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THE    MONIST 


QUARTERLY   MAGAZINE 


VOL.  IV 


CHICAGO 

THE  OPEN  COURT  PUBLISHING  CO. 
1893-94. 


\ 

m 


COPYRIGHT  BY 

THE  OPEN  COURT  PUBLISHING  Co 
1894. 


CONTENTS  OF  VOLUME  IV. 

ARTICLES. 


PAGE 


Agnosticism.     A  Posthumous  Essay.     By  William  Maccall 31 

Are  the  Dimensions  of  the  Physical  World  Absolute  ?     By  J.  Delbceuf 248 

Arithmetic,  Monism  in.     By  Hermann  Schubert 561 

Automatism  and  Spontaneity.     By  Edmund  Montgomery 44 

Buddhism,  The  Fundamental  Teachings  of.     By  Zitsuzen  Ashitsu 163 

Coleoptera,  The  Nervous  Centre  of  Flight  in.     By  Alfred- Binet 65 

Correlation  of  Mental  and  Physical  Powers.     By  J.  Venn 5 

Ethics  and  the  Cosmic  Order.     Editor 403 

Evolution,  Heredity  versus.     By  Theodore  Oilman 80 

Geometry,  The  Non-Euclidean,  Inevitable.     By  George  Bruce  Halsted 483 

German  Universities  at  the  World's  Fair,  i  The.     Editor 106 

Harnack,  Prof.  Adolf,  on  the  Religion  of  Science.     Editor 494 

Henism,  Monism  and.     Editor 228 

Heredity  and  Progress,  Dr.  Weismann  on.     By  C.  Lloyd  Morgan 20 

Heredity  versus  Evolution.     By  Theodore  Gilman 80 

Indian  Philosophy,   Outlines  of  a  History  of.     By  Richard  Garbe 580 

Industrial  Life,  Philosophy  and.     By  J.  Clark  Murray 533 

Kant's  Doctrine  of  the  Schemata.     By  H.  H.  Williams 375 

Karma  and  Nirvana.     Editor 417 

Leonardo  da  Vinci  as  a  Pioneer  in  Science.     By  William  R.  Thayer 507 

Mathematics,  The  Present  State  of.     By  Felix  Klein i 

Mental  and  Physical  Powers,  Correlation  of.     By  J.  Venn 5 

Message  of  Monism  to  the  World,  The.     Editor 545 

Mind,  A  Monistic  Theory  of.     By  Lester  F.  Ward 194 

Modern  Physiology.     By  Max  Verworn 355 

Monism  and  Henism.     Editor 228 

Monism  to  the  World,  The  Message  of.    Editor 545 

Monism  in  Arithmetic.     By  Hermann  Schubert 561 

Monism,  Three  Aspects  of.    By  C.  Lloyd  Morgan 321 

Monistic  Theory  of  Mind,  A.     By  Lester  F.  Ward 194 


iv  THE  MONIST. 

PAGE 

Nervous  Centre  of  Flight  in  Coleoptera,  The.     By  Alfred  Binet 65 

Nirvana,  Karma  and.     Editor >. . .   417 

Non-Euclidean  Geometry  Inevitable,  The.     By  George  Bruce  Halsted 483 

Number,  Notion  and  Definition  of.     By  Hermann  Schubert 396 

Parliament  of  Religions,  The.     By  M.  M.  Trumbull 333 

Philosophy,  On  the  Connexion  Between  Indian  and  Greek.    By  Richard  Garbe  176 

Philosophy  and  Industrial  Life.     By  J.  Clark  Murray 533 

Philosophy,  Outlines  of  a  History  of  Indian.     By  Richard  Garbe 580 

Physiology,  Modern.     By  Max  Verworn 355 

Religious  Toleration,  Sebastien  Castellion  and.     By  Theodore  Stanton 98 

Religions,  The  Parliament  of.     By  M.  M.  Trumbull 333 

Religion  of  Science,  Prof.  Adolf  Harnack  on.     Editor 494 

Romanes,  George  John.     In  Memoriam.     Editor 482 

Schemata,  Kant's  Doctrine  of  the.     By  H.  H.  Williams 375 

Subjective  and  Objective  Relation,  The.     By  G.  M.  McCrie 211 

Thing,  The  Unity  of  Thought  and.     By  R.  Lewins 208 

Thought  and  Thing,  The  Unity  of.     By  R.  Lewins 208 

Three  Aspects  of  Monism.     By  C.  Lloyd  Morgan 321 

Toleration,  Sebastien  Castellion  and  Religious.     By  Theodore  Stanton 98 

Truth,  The  Universality  of.     By  Shaku  Soyen 161 

Universality  of  Truth,  The.     By  Shaku  Soyen 161 

Universities  at  the  World's  Fair,  The  German.     Editor 106 

Weismann,  Dr.,  on  Heredity  and  Progress.     By  C.  Lloyd  Morgan 20 

Woman,   The  Problem  of,   From   a  Bio-Sociological  Point  of  View.     By  G. 

Ferrero 261 

Women  from  Labor,  The  Exemption  of.     By  Lester  F.  Ward 385 

LITERARY  CORRESPONDENCE. 

France.     By  Lucien  Arreat. 121,  273,  440,  599 

Japan  and  China.     By  Keijiro  Nakamura 607 

The  Paris  International  Book  Exhibition.     By  Theodore  Stanton 605 

POETRY. 
The  Immortality  That  Is  Now.     George  John  Romanes 481 

CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS. 

James's  Psychology,  Observations  on  Some  Points  in.     By  W.  L.  Worcester  .    129 
Logic  as  Relation  Lore.  Reply  to  Mr.  Francis  C.  Russell.    By  George  Mouret  282 

Logic  as  Relation  Lore.     Rejoinder  to  M.  Mouret.     By  F.  C.  Russell 448 

J.  S.  Skilton  and  Theo.  Gilman  on  the  word  "  Heredity  " 637 

BOOK  REVIEWS. 
Azam,  Dr.     Hypnotisme  et  double  conscience,  origine  de  leur  etude  et  divers  tra- 

vaux  sur  des  sujets  analogues 280 


CONTENTS  OF  VOLUME  IV.  V 

PAGE 

Bahr,  A.      Der  Verbrecher  in  anthropologischer  Beziehung 476 

Barry .  Alfred.      Some  Lights  of  Science  on  the  Faith 473 

Bianchi,  A.  G.     //  romanzo  di  tin  delinqiiente  nato 476 

Binet,  Alfred.     Introduction  a  la  pscyJiologie  experimental 632 

Blondel,  Maurice.     L  ''action,  Essai  d^une  critique  de  la  vie  et  d'une  science  de 

la  pratique 445 

Bonar,  James.     Philosophy  and  Political  Economy  in  Some  of  Their  Historical 

Relations 316 

Bosanquet,  Bernard.      The  Civilisation  of  Christendom  and  Other  Studies 633 

Bridel,  Louis.     Le  droit  des  femmcs  dans  le  mariage,  etudes  critiques  de  legisla- 
tion comparee 446 

Brown,  James  Baldwin.      Stoics  and  Saints 634 

Cappie,  James.      The  Intra-Cranial  Circulation  and  Its  Relation  to  the  Physi- 
ology of  the  Brain 625 

Carneri,  B.     Der  moderne  JMensch 476 

Carneri,  B.     Empjindung  und  Bewusstsein 631 

Carus,  Paul.     Le problkme  de  la  conscience  du  moi 443 

Claparede,  J.,  and  Th.  Flournoy.     Phenomenes  de  synopsie 604 

Delbos,  Victor.     Le  problem e  moral  dans  la  philosophic  de  Spinoza  et  dans  I'his- 

toire  du  Spinozisme 446 

Durand,  Dr.  (De  Gros.)     Le  merveilleux  scientifique 601 

Durkheim,  Kmile.     De  la  division  du  travail  social , 279 

Fere,  Ch.     La  famille  nevropatJiique 604 

Flournoy,  Th.,  and  J.  Claparede.     Phenomenes  de  synopsie 604 

Fouillee,  M.     Psychologie  des  idees-forces 440 

Greef,  Guillaume  de.     Les  lois  sociologiques 446 

Griveau,  Maurice.     Elements  du  beau,  analyse  et  synthese  des  faits  esthetiques 

{Fapres  les  documents  du  langage 127 

Giittler,  C.      Wissen  und  Glauben 634 

Harnack,  Adolf.      Otitlines  of  the  History  of  Dogma 295 

Harris,  William  T.,  and   F.   B.   Sanborn.     A.  Branson  Alcott,  His  Lift-  and 

Philosophy 144 

Heydebreck,  A.  von.      Ucber  die  Gewissheit  des  Allgemeinen 475 

Hirth,  Georges.     La  vue  plastiques  fonction  de  ricorce  cerebrale 154 

Kidd,  Benjamin.     Social  Evolution V 628 

Klein,  Felix.      The  Evans  ton  Colloquium.     Lectures  on  Mathematics . 469 

Knight,  William.     Aspects  of  Theism 466 

Krafft-Ebing,  R.  von.      Ueber  hypnotische  Experimente 156 

Krause,  Ernst.     Die  Trojaburgen  Nordeuropa? s 3°6 

Kurella,  H.     Naturgeschichte  des  Verbrechers i56 

Mace,  Jean.     Philosophic  de  poclie 444 

Mach,  Ernst.      The  Science  of  Mechanics I52 


vi  THE  MONIST. 

PAGE 

Marshall,  Henry  Rutgers.     Pain,  Pleasure,  and  ^Esthetics 630 

Molinari,  G.  de.     Religion 636 

Nicholson,  J.  Shield.     Principles  of  Political  Economy 474 

Nordau,  Max.     Entartung 313 

Nordau,  Max.     Degeneration 604 

Novaro,  Mario.     Die  Philosophie  des  Nicolaus  Malebranche 633 

Novicow,  J.     Les  luttes  entre  societes  humaines  et  lews  phases  successive* 121 

Oldenberg,  H.     Buddha 604 

Paulhan,  Fr.     Joseph  de  Maistre  et  sa  philosopJde 124 

Paulhan,  Fr.     Les  caracteres 599 

Pavot,  Jules.     L1  education  de  la  volonte 446 

Perez,  Bernard.     Le  caractere.     Les  trois  premieres  annees  de  V enfant.     L } en- 
fant de  trois  a  sept  ans 599 

Ritchie,  David  G.     Darwin  and  Hegel 304 

Roberty,  E.  de.     La  recherche  de  Punite 149,  275 

Sanborn,  F.  B.,    and  William  T.   Harris.     A.  Bronson  Alcott,  His  Life  and 

Philosophy 144 

Scripture,  E.  W.      Studies  from  the  Yale  Psychological  Laboratory 473 

Segall-Socoliu,  I.     Zur  Verjilngung  der  Philosophie 635 

Sewall,  Frank.      The  Ethics  of  Service 635 

Sigwart,  Christoph.     Logik 614 

Souriau,  Paul.     La  suggestion  dans  r art 125 

Sterrett,  J.  Macbride.      The  Ethics  of  Hegel 313 

Stokes,  G.  G.     Natural  Theology 464 

Ward,  Lester  F.      The  Psychic  Factors  of  Civilisation 621 

Wilde,  Norman.     Friedrich  Heinrich  Jacobi,  A  Sttidy  in  the  Origin  of  German 

Realism 636 

Windelband,  W.     A  History  of  Philosophy 471 

Wreschner,  Arthur.     Ernst  Plainer  und  Kant's  Krifik   der  reinen  Vernunft, 

mit  besonderer  Beriicksichtigung  von  Tetens  und  Aenesidemus 315 

Wundt,  Wilhelm.     Logik 154 

Wundt,  Wilhelm.      Grundziige  der  physiologischen  Psychologie 472 

Wundt,  Wilhelm.     Logik 614 

Ziegler,  Theobald.     Das  Gefiihl 156 

Ziegler,  Th.     La  question  sociale  est  une  question  morale 447 

Ziehen,  Th.     Leitfaden  der  physiologischen  Psychologiein  funfzehnVorlesungen.  154 

PERIODICALS 159-160  ;  318-320  ;  478-480  ;  638-640 

APPENDIX. 

The  Dawn  of  a  New  Religious  Era.     Reprinted  from  The  Forum  of  November 
1893.     Editor.     (In  No.  3  of  this  volume.) 


VOL.  4.     No.  4.  JULY,   1894. 

THE  MONIST 


A  QUARTERLY  MAGAZINE. 

Editor:  DR.  PAUL  CARUS  Associates:  \  ^DWAR°  C    HEGELE* 

MARY  CARUS. 


CONTENTS: 

THE  IMMORTALITY  THAT  Is  Now.  PAGE 

THE  LATE  PROF.   GEORGE  JOHN  ROMANES    -  -    481 

GEORGE  JOHN  ROMANES.     IN  MEMORIAM. 

EDITOR     -  482 

THE  NON-EUCLIDEAN  GEOMETRY  INEVITABLE. 

PROF.   GEORGE  BRUCE  HALSTED       -  -    483 

PROF.  ADOLF  HARNACK  ON  THE  RELIGION  OF  SCIENCE. 

EDITOR     -  -         494 

LEONARDO  DA  VINCI  AS  A  PIONEER  IN  SCIENCE. 

WILLIAM  R.   THAYER 507 

PHILOSOPHY  AND  INDUSTRIAL  LIFE. 

PROF.  J.  CLARK  MURRAY 533 

THE  MESSAGE  OF  MONISM  TO  THE  WORLD. 

EDITOR  -    545 

MONISM  IN  ARITHMETIC. 

PROF.   HERMANN  SCHUBERT 561 

OUTLINES  OF  A  HISTORY  OF  INDIAN  PHILOSOPHY. 

PROF.  RICHARD  GARBE -.580 

LITERARY  CORRESPONDENCE. 

France.     Lucien  Arreat 599 

The  Paris  International  Book  Exhibition.     Theodore  Stanton  -         -         -    605 
Japan  and  China.     Keijiro  Nakamura  -  -  607 

BOOK  REVIEWS         - -    614 

Logik.  Die  Methodenlehre.  By  Dr.  Christoph  Sigwart,  p.  614.— Logik.  Die  Erkennt- 
nisslehre.  By  Wilhelm  Wundt,  p.  614  —The  Psychic  Factors  of  Civilisation.  By 
Lester  F.  Ward,  p.  621. — The  Intra-Cranial  Circulation  and  Its  Relation  to  the  Physi- 
ology of  the  Brain.  By  James  Cappie,  M.A.,  p.  625. — Social  Evolution.  By  Ben- 
jamin Kidd,  p.  628. — Pain,  Pleasure,  and  ^Esthetics.  By  Henry  Rutgers  Mar- 
shall, M.A.,  p.  630. — Empfindung  und  Bewusstsein.  By  B.  Carneri,  p.  631.— Intro- 
duction a  la  psychologic  experimentale.  By  Alfred  Binet,  p.  632. — The  Civilisation 
of  Christendom  and  Other  Studies.  By  Bernard  Bosanquet,  p.  633  — Die  Philosophic 
des  Nicolaus  Malebranche.  By  Dr.  Mario  Novaro,  p.  633.— Stoics  and  Saints.  By 
James  Bald-win  Brown,  p.  634. — Wissen  und  Glauben.  By  Dr.  C.  Giittler,  p.  634. — 
Zur  Verjungung  der  Philosophie.  By  /.  Segall-Socoliu,  p.  635.— The  Ethics  of  Ser- 
vice. By  Frank  Sewall,  M.A.,  p.  635. — Religion.  By  G.  de  Molinari,  p.  636. — Friedrich 
Heinrich  Jacobi,  A  Study  in  the  Origin  of  German  Realism.  By  Norman  Wilde, 
Ph.  D.,  p.  636. 

DISCUSSIONS.     J.  S.  Skilton.     Theo.  Gilman.       -         -  -        637 

PERIODICALS •    638-640 


CHICAGO: 

THE  OPEN  COURT  PUBLISHING  COMPANY. 

1894. 


COPYRIGHT  BY 

THE  OPEN  COURT  PUBLISHING  Co. 
1894. 


VOL.  4.     No.  i. 


OCTOBER,   1893. 


THE  MONIST 


A  QUARTERLY  MAGAZINE. 


Editor :  DR.  PAUL  CARUS, 


Associates  : 


EDWARD  C.  HEGELER. 
MARY  CARUS. 


CONTENTS: 


THE  PRESENT  STATE  OF  MATHEMATICS. 

PROF.   FELIX  KLEIN         -         - 

CORRELATION  OF  MENTAL  AND  PHYSICAL  POWERS. 

J.  VENN    -  

DR.  WEISMANN  ON  HEREDITY  AND  PROGRESS. 

PROF.   C.   LLOYD  MORGAN -.        - 

AGNOSTICISM.     A  Posthumous  Essay. 

WILLIAM  MACCALL      - 

AUTOMATISM  AND  SPONTANEITY. 

DR.  EDMUND  MONTGOMERY 
THE  NERVOUS  CENTRE  OF  FLIGHT  IN  COLEOPTERA. 

DR.   ALFRED  BINET - 

HEREDITY  VERSUS  EVOLUTION. 

THEODORE  GILMAN 

SEBASTIEN  CASTELLION  AND  RELIGIOUS  TOLERATION 

THEODORE  STANTON 
THE  GERMAN  UNIVERSITIES  AT  THE  WORLD'S  FAIR. 

EDITOR 

LITERARY  CORRESPONDENCE. 

France.     Lucien  Arreat 

CRITICISMS.      Observations  on  some  points  in  James's  Psychology 

Dr.  W.  L.  Worcester 

BOOK  REVIEWS    -  

A.  Bronson  Alcott,  His  Life  and  Philosophy.  By  F.  B.  Sanborn  and  William  T.  Harris, 
p.  144.— La  recherche  de  1'unite.  By  E.  de  Roberty,  p.  149. — The  Science  of  Mechan- 
ics. By  Dr.  Ernst  Mach,  p.  152.—  Leitfaden  der  physiologischen  Psychologie  in  fiinf- 
zehn  Vorlesungen.  By  Prof.  Dr.  Th.  Ziehen,  p.  154.— Logik.  By  Wilhelm  IVundt, 
p.  154.— La  vue  plastique  fonction  de  1'ecorce  cerebrale.  By  Georges  Hirth,  p.  154.— 
Ueber  hypnotische  Experimente.  By  Prof.  R.  -von  Krafft-Ebine:.  Naturgeschichte 
des  Verbrechers.  By  H.  Kurella.  Das  Gefiihl.  Eine  psychologische  Untersuchung. 
By  Prof.  Theobald  Ziegler,  p.  156. 

PERIODICALS -- 

Zeitschrift  fur  Psychologie  und  Physiologic  der  Sinnesorgane,  p.  159. — Vierteljahrs- 
schrift  fur  wissenschaftliche  Philosophie,  p.  159 — The  American  Journal  of  Psychol- 
ogy, p.  159. — The  Philosophical  Review,  p.  159. — Philosophische  Monatshefte,  p.  159.— 
Zeitschrift  fur  Philosophie  und  philosophische  Kritik,  p.  160. — Mind,  p.  160. — Inter- 
national Journal  of  Ethics,  p.  160. — The  New  World,  p,  160. — Revue  Philosophiqtie, 
p.  160, 


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CHICAGO  : 

THE  OPEN  COURT  PUBLISHING  COMPANY. 

1893. 


159 


COPYRIGHT  BY 

THE  OPEN  COURT  PUBLISHING  Co. 
1893. 


VOL.  IV.  OCTOBER,   1893.  No.   i. 


THE  MONIST. 


THE  PRESENT  STATE  OF  MATHEMATICS.* 

rT"vHE  German  Government  has  commissioned  me  to  communicate 
-*•  to  this  Congress  the  assurances  of  its  good  will,  and  to  par- 
ticipate in  your  transactions.  In  this  official  capacity,  allow  me  to 
repeat  here  the  invitation  given  already  in  the  general  session,  to 
visit  at  some  convenient  time  the  German  University  exhibit  in  the 
Liberal  Arts  Building. 

I  have  also  the  honor  to  lay  before  you  a  considerable  number 
of  mathematical  papers,  which  give  collectively  a  fairly  complete 
account  of  contemporaneous  mathematical  activity  in  Germany. 
Reserving  for  the  mathematical  section  a  detailed  summary  of  these 
papers,  I  mention  here  only  certain  points  of  more  general  interest. 

When  we  contemplate  the  development  of  mathematics  in  this 
nineteenth  century,  we  find  something  similar  to  what  has  taken 
place  in  other  sciences.  The  famous  investigators  of  the  preceding 
period,  Lagrange,  Laplace,  Gauss,  were  each  great  enough  to  em- 
brace all  branches  of  mathematics  and  its  applications.  In  partic- 
ular, astronomy  and  mathematics  were  in  their  time  regarded  as  in- 
separable. 

With  the  succeeding  generation,  however,  the  tendency  to  spe- 
cialisation manifests  itself.  Not  unworthy  are  the  names  of  its  early 
representatives  :  Abel,  Jacobi,  Galois  and  the  great  geometers  from 

*  Remarks  given  at  the  opening  of  the  Mathematical  and  Astronomical  Con- 
gress, at  Chicago,  111. 


2  THE  MONIST. 

Poncelet  on,  and  not  inconsiderable  are  their  individual  achieve- 
ments. But  the  developing  science  departs  at  the  same  time  more 
and  more  from  its  original  scope  and  purpose  and  threatens  to 
sacrifice  its  earlier  unity  and  to  split  into  diverse  branches.  In  the 
same  proportion  the  attention  bestowed  upon  it  by  the  general  scien- 
tific public  diminishes.  It  became  almost  the  custom  to  regard 
modern  mathematical  speculation  as  something  having  no  general 
interest  or  importance,  and  the  proposal  has  often  been  made  that, 
at  least  for  purpose  of  instruction,  all  results  be  formulated  from  the 
same  standpoints  as  in  the  earlier  period.  Such  conditions  were 
unquestionably  to  be  regretted. 

This  is  a  picture  of  the  past.  I  wish  on  the  present  occasion  to 
state  and  to  emphasise  that  in  the  last  two  decades  a  marked  im- 
provement from  within  has  asserted  itself  in  our  science,  with  con- 
stantly increasing  success. 

The  matter  has  been  found  simpler  than  was  at  first  believed. 
It  appears  indeed  that  the  different  branches  of  mathematics  have 
actually  developed  not  in  opposite,  but  in  parallel  directions,  that  it 
is  possible  to  combine  their  results  into  certain  general  conceptions. 
Such  a  general  conception  is  that  of  fae  function,  in  particular  that 
of  the  analytical  function  of  the  complex  variable.  Another  concep- 
tion of  perhaps  the  same  range  is  that  of  the  Group,  which  just  now 
stands  in  the  foreground  of  mathematical  progress.  Proceeding 
from  this  idea  of  groups,  we  learn  more  and  more  to  coordinate 
different  mathematical  sciences.  So,  for  example,  geometry  and 
the  theory  of  numbers,  which  long  seemed  to  represent  antagonistic 
tendencies,  no  longer  form  an  antithesis,  but  have  come  in  many 
ways  to  appear  as  different  aspects  of  one  and  the  same  theory. 

This  unifying  tendency,  originally  purely  theoretical,  comes  in- 
evitably  to  extend  to  the  applications  of  mathematics  in  other  sci- 
ences, and  on  the  other  hand  is  sustained  and  reinforced  in  the  de- 
velopment and  extension  of  these  latter.  I  assume  that  detailed 
examples  of  this  interchange  of  influence  may  be  not  without  various 
interest  for  the  members  of  this  general  session,  and  on  this  account 
have  selected  for  brief  preliminary  mention  two  of  the  papers  which 
I  have  later  to  present  to  the  mathematical  Section. 


THE  PRESENT  STATE  OF  MATHEMATICS.  3 

The  first  of  these  papers  (from  Dr.  Schonflies)  presents  a  review 
of  the  progress  of  mathematical  crystallography.  Sohncke,  about 
1877,  treated  crystals  as  aggregates  of  congruent  molecules  of  any 
shape  whatever,  regularly  arranged  in  space.  In  1884  Fedorow 
made  further  progress  by  admitting  the  hypothesis  that  the  molecules 
might  be  in  part  inversely  instead  of  directly  congruent.  In  the 
light  of  our  modern  mathematical  developments  this  problem  is  one 
of  the  theory  of  groups,  and  we  have  thus  a  convenient  starting- 
point  for  the  solution  of  the  entire  question.  It  is  simply  necessary 
to  enumerate  all  discontinuous  groups  which  are  contained  in  the 
so-called  chief  group  of  space-transformations.  Dr.  Schonflies  has 
thus  treated  the  subject  in  a  text-book  (1891)  while  in  the  present 
paper  he  discusses  the  details  of  the  historical  development. 

In  the  second  place,  I  will  mention  a  paper  which  has  more  im- 
mediate interest  for  astronomers,  namely,  a  resume  by  Dr.  Burkhardt 
of  "The  Relations  Between  Astronomical  Problems  and  the  Theory 
of  Linear  Differential  Equations."  This  deals  with  those  new 
methods  of  computing  perturbations,  which  were  brought  out  first 
in  your  country  by  Newcomb  and  Hill ;  in  Europe,  by  Gylden  and 
others.  Here  the  mathematician  can  be  of  use,  since  he  is  already 
familiar  with  linear  differential  equations  and  is  trained  in  the  de- 
duction of  strict  proofs ;  but  even  the  professional  mathematician 
finds  here  much  to  be  learned.  Hill's  researches  involve  indeed, — 
a  fact  not  yet  sufficiently  recognised, — a  distinct  advance  upon  the 
current  theory  of  linear  differential  equations.  To  be  more  precise, 
the  interest  centres  in  the  representation  of  the  integrals  of  a  differ- 
ential equation  in  the  vicinity  of  an  essentially  singular  point.  Hill 
furnishes  a  practical  solution  of  this  problem  by  the  aid  of  an  instru- 
ment new  to  mathematical  analysis, — the  admissibility  of  which  is, 
however,  confirmed  by  subsequent  writers, — the  infinitely  extended, 
but  still  convergent,  determinant. 

Speaking,  as  I  do,  under  the  influence  of  our  Gottingen  tradi- 
tions, and  dominated  somewhat,  perhaps,  by  the  great  name  of 
Gauss,  I  may  be  pardoned  if  I  characterise  the  tendency  that  has 
been  outlined  in  these  remarks  as  a  return  to  tiic  general  Gaussian 
programme.  A  distinction  between  the  present  and  the  earlier  period 


4  THE  M ONI  ST. 

lies  evidently  in  this  :  that  what  was  formerly  begun  by  a  single 
master-mind,  we  now  must  seek  to  accomplish  by  united  efforts  and 
cooperation.  A  movement  in  this  direction  was  started  in  France 
some  time  since  by  the  powerful  influence  of  Poincare".  For  similar 
purposes  we  three  years  ago  founded  in  Germany  a  mathematical 
society,  and  I  greet  the  young  society  in  New  York  and  its  Bul- 
letin as  being  in  harmony  with  our  aspirations.  But  our  mathema- 
ticians must  go  further  still.  They  must  form  international  unions, 
and  I  trust  that  this  present  World's  Congress  at  Chicago  will  be 
a  step  in  that  direction.  r 

FELIX  KLEIN. 


CORRELATION  OF  MENTAL  AND  PHYSICAL 

POWERS. 


^T^HE  popular  judgment  as  to  the  compatibility,  or  otherwise,  of 
-*-  mental  and  physical  superiority,  tends,  broadly  speaking,  to- 
wards one  or  other  of  two  diametrically  opposed  conclusions.  The 
old-fashioned  view  was  that  excellence  in  one  of  these  directions 
almost  certainly  implied  deficiency  in  the  other.  The  successful 
hard-reading  student  was,  it  was  taken  for  granted,  a  poor  thing  in 
respect  of  his  body.  His  running  was  good  for  little,  his  jumping 
was  worth  nothing.  He  had  chosen  a  career,  which,  whatever  it 
might  promise  in  the  way  of  future  or  posthumous  fame,  was  sure 
to  give  him,  for  his  portion  in  this  life,  weak  eye-sight,  a  narrow 
chest,  and  feeble  muscles.  Against  this  view,  another  and  quite 
opposite  one  found  considerable  acceptance  in  many  quarters.  The 
"muscular  Christian,"  as  he  came  to  be  called,  after  Kingsley  had 
represented  him  to  us,  combined  a  very  superior  mind  in  a  very 
sound  body.  There  was  nothing  new  in  such  a  view,  and  those  who 
like  broad  generalisations  may  declare  that  it  was  the  reassertion  of 
the  Greek  way  of  looking  at  man,  in  opposition  to  the  clerical  or 
mediaeval  way.  Anyhow,  it  was  assumed  that  the  large-limbed  hero 
was  sure  to  be  found  high  up  in  university  class  lists  ;  and  that  if 
any  youth  left  college,  after  three  years'  residence,  running  and 
jumping  no  better  than  when  he  came,  it  was  only  too  likely  that 
his  tutor  would  be  found  to  be  as  dissatisfied  with  his  career  as  his 
trainer  could  have  been,  had  he  been  provided  with  one. 

,So  long  as  we  confine   ourselves  to  advancing  individual  in- 
stances, or  to  proving  our  generalisations  by  portraying  characters 


6  THE  MONIST. 

in  works  of  fiction,  both  of  these  views  have  plenty  to  say  for  them- 
selves, and  against  each  other.  Quite  recently,  however,  some 
statistics  have  been  collected  upon  the  subject,  which,  whatever 
their  deficiencies,  have  at  least  the  merit  of  attacking  the  problem 
in  the  only  way  in  which  anything  resembling  a  solution  can  be 
hoped  for.  Some  years  ago  Mr.  F.  Galton,  to  whose  ingenuity  and 
industry  so  many  branches  of  statistics  are  much  indebted,  started 
an  Anthropometric  Laboratory  at  South  Kensington,  London,  dur- 
ing one  of  the  large  exhibitions  held  there.  In  the  course  of  the 
year  many  thousand  sets  of  measurements  were  obtained  ;  but  they 
had  the  drawback,  which  every  statistician  will  recognise,  that  they 
were  drawn  from  rather  heterogeneous  data.  Men  and  women  were 
alike  dealt  with,  and  these  differed  widely  in  age,  social  position, 
and  previous  bodily  development  ;  whilst  the  application  of  any 
mental  test  was  quite  out  of  the  question.  Another  laboratory, 
therefore,  of  the  same  kind  was  started  at  Cambridge,  where,  as  we 
shall  soon  see,  most  of  these  drawbacks  were  either  absent  or  much 
reduced  in  importance. 

As  regards  the  physical  tests,  little  need  be  said  here,  as  they 
are  mostly  of  a  familiar  kind.  They  dealt  with  the  seven  following 
particulars:  (i)  Eye-sight,  i.  e.,  the  distance  at  which  small  "dia- 
mond type"  print  could  be  read  with  each  eye  separately.  (2) 
Strength  of  pull,  as  in  the  action  of  drawing  a  bow  ;  this  was  meas- 
ured in  pounds.  (3)  Strength  of  squeeze,  with  each  hand  separately. 
The  instrument  here  had  two  handles  at  a  few  inches'  distance 
apart,  which  were  squeezed  together  against  the  action  of  a  spring. 
The  pressure  exerted  was  measured  in  pounds.  (4)  The  height 
(without  shoes)  measured  in  feet  and  inches.  (5)  The  breathing 
capacity,  measured  by  a  spirometer.  The  number  of  cubic  inches 
which  could  be  exhaled,  after  taking  a  deep  breath,  was  thus  re- 
corded. (6)  The  weight,  in  pounds,  taken  in  ordinary  in-door 
costume.  (7)  To  this  was  added  the  measurement  of  the  head  in 
three  directions  at  right  angles  to  each  other.  The  product  of  these 
three  elements  gave,  on  the  average,  a  number  proportional  to  the 
volume  of  the  head.  For  brevity,  this  product  has  been  here  termed 
the  "head  volume." 


CORRELATION  OF  MENTAL  AND  PHYSICAL  POWERS.  7 

As  regards  these  physical  tests,  little  explanation  is  needed,  as 
they  are  familiar  to  most  students  of  statistics,  and  some  of  them 
have  been  applied  on  a  vastly  more  extensive  scale  than  anything 
now' to  be  described.  The  only  points  that  need  present  notice  is 
the  homogeneous  character  of  our  data.  The  students  at  the  English 
universities  are  mainly  drawn, — as  they  have  been  since  the  time  of 
the  Reformation  at  any  rate, — from  what  are  commonly  called  the 
upper  classes.  That  is,  nine  out  of  ten  of  them  are  the  sons  of 
country  gentry,  professional  men,  and  well-to-do  tradesmen.  Physi- 
cally speaking, 'they  have  generally  been  made  the  most  of;  since 
they,  and  their  fathers  before  them,  have  been  duly  fed  and  clothed 
and  exercised.  There  is,  consequently,  none  of  the  irregularity  of 
result  which  may  be  observed  sometimes  in  statistics  dealing  with 
army  recruits,  when  immature  youths  are  suddenly  put,  for  the  first 
time  in  their  lives,  into  a  position  really  favorable  to  physical 
growth.  As  regards  the  homogeneous  character  of  the  human 
materials  here  dealt  with,  every  statistician  will  realise  its  impor- 
tance. A  comparatively  small  number  of  accurate  observations,  ap- 
plied to  a  well-defined  class,  will  often  outweigh  in  value  a  vastly 
greater  number  which  have  been  drawn  from  a  medley  of  various 
classes. 

So  much  for  the  merely  physical  tests.  Such  novelty,  how- 
ever, as  there  is  in  our  present  results  lies  mainly  in  the  attempt  to 
bring  some  kind  of  mental  test  into  correlation  with  the  physical. 
I  need  hardly  insist  upon  the  difficulty  of  such  a  task.  Many  people 
think  they  understand  as  clearly  what  they  mean  by  an  "able" 
man,  as  by  a  strong  or  a  tall  man.  Perhaps  they  do  ;  but  they  soon 
find  that  every  one  else  understands  it  just  as  clearly  as  they  do 
themselves,  and  with  a  totally  different  result.  The  first-class  ora- 
tor, preacher,  or  poet  in  one  judgment  is  plucked  without  question 
in  another.  In  an  elaborate  indictment  of  the  Cambridge  Mathemat- 
ical Tripos,  made  some  years  ago,  the  critic  asserted,  amongst  other 
objections,  "that  the  best  man  invariably  came  out  second."  This 
was  not  quite  true  ;  but  if  it  had  been,  did  it  cross  the  writer's  mind 
what  sort  of  an  upheaval  of  the  foundations  of  society  would  result 


8  THE  MONIST. 

from   a  determined   attempt  to   hoist  the  best  man  in  each  depart- 
ment of  life  as  near  the  top  as  that? 

In  a  much  examined  university, — and  perhaps  nowhere  else, — 
it  does  become  possible  to  arrange  and  classify  men  with  regard  to 
their  mental  powers.  There  is,  of  course,  no  question  here  of  taking 
an  arithmetic  mean,  and  it  was  not  even  attempted  to  arrange  the 
men  in  order  of  merit.  All  that  was  done  was  to  group  them  into 
three  classes,  respectively  denoted  here  as  A,  B,  and  C.  In  A  are 
included  all  those  who  attain  a  first  class  in  any  honor  examination, 
or  who  secure  a  college  scholarship.  B  comprises  all  the  rest  of 
the  men  who  pass  in  honors,  that  is,  the  second  and  third-class  men 
in  their  various  examinations.  C  comprises  all  who  merely  pass  for 
their  degree,  or  try  to  do  so  and  fail.  What  with  the  multitude  and 
varied  scope  of  modern  examinations,  and  the  intimate  knowledge 
of  the  capacities  and  attainments  of  their  pupils  possessed  by  most 
of  the  tutors,  there  was  no  great  difficulty  found  in  grouping  the 
students  in  this  way.  I  am  well  aware  of  the  objections  which  may 
be  raised.  It  is  not  for  a  moment  claimed  that  such  a  classification 
is  perfect,  even  within  the  modest  limits  at  which  it  aims.  Able  men 
may  fail  in  the  class  lists  through  indolence  or  ill-health,  as  inferior 
ones  may  succeed  through  luck  or  drudgery.  But  it  must  be  re- 
membered that  we  only  profess  to  deal  with  averages,  not  with  in- 
dividuals, and  on  averages  such  influences  have  little  power  of  dis- 
turbance. There  are  probably  few  cricket  or  foot-ball  clubs  in  which 
one  or  more  men  in  the  second  eleven  or  fifteen  may  not  be  really 
better  than  some  in  the  first ;  but  what  chance  would  the  second 
team  have  of  beating  the  first?  If  we  were  selecting  an  individual  as 
a  tutor  or  secretary,  it  would  be  folly  to  prefer  an  A  to  a  B,  without 
further  inquiry ;  but  to  weigh  groups  against  each  other  is  a  very 
different  matter.  All  that  is  here  maintained  is  that  our  A,  B,  C 
classes,  as  classes,  stand  out  indisputably  distanced  from  each  other 
in  respect  of  their  intellectual  capacity.  Not  only  is  the  average 
superiority  of  one  group  over  the  next  patent  to  all  who  know  the 
men,  but  we  may  safely  say  of  them,  what  could  perhaps  be  said 
nowhere  else,  that  if  the  men  had  to  vote  themselves  into  three  such 


CORRELATION  OF  MENTAL  AND  PHYSICAL  POWERS.  9 

classes,  the  results  would  not  be  very  different  from  what  were  ob- 
tained by  the  tests  actually  employed. 

Before  proceeding  to  our  main  subject  of  comparison,  there  is 
one  remark  which  I  should  like  to  make  in  reference  to  the  physical 
tests.  These  were  made  in  six  specified  particulars,  the  choice  of 
these  particulars  being  partly  decided  by  the  facility  of  prompt  and 
accurate  determination.  It  may  fairly  be  inquired  whether  these 
are  isolated  characteristics,  in  the  sense  that  preeminence  in  one  of 
them  carries  no  superiority  in  the  others.  If  this  were  so,  their 
significance  would  be  much  diminished,  for  the  testimony  of  one  of 
them  would  not  corroborate  that  of  the  others.  The  tall  men  might 
tend  to  be  stringy,  the  heavy  ones  to  be  puffy,  and  the  man  with 
great  capacity  for  expiration  might,  so  to  say,  have  sacrificed  the 
muscles  of  his  sword-arm  in  order  fo  devote  himself  to  the  peculiar 
duties  of  a  trumpeter.  The  exact  extent  to  which  decisive  superior- 
ity in  one  physical  characteristic  is  thus  associated  with  compara- 
tive superiority,  or  otherwise,  in  respect  of  other  characteristics,  has 
not,  as  far  as  I  know,  been  previously  investigated,  and  it  is  there- 
fore worth  while  to  give  some  statistics  on  the  subject.  The  general 
conclusion  we  find  to  be  that  the  man  who  is  very  good  in  any  one 
direction  physically,  is  distinctly  above  the  average  in  all  the  other 
directions.  The  most  striking  proof  of  this  fact  is  arrived  at  as 
follows  :  Conceive  a  selection  made  of  "the  best  in  ten."  If  there 
are  a  thousand,  select  the  hundred  best ;  if,  as  in  the  Cambridge 
statistics,  there  are  about  three  thousand,  select  the  three  hundred 
best.  This  is,  of  course,  to  make  a  high  demand.  It  was  found, 
for  instance,  that  this  bodily  "first-class  man"  was,  in  respect  of 
height,  six  feet  or  upwards  ;  in  respect  of  breathing  he  could  expire 
three  hundred  and  five  cubic  inches ;  his  minimum  pulling  strength 
was  one  hundred  pounds  ;  his  "squeeze,"  with  his  strongest  hand, 
was  also  about  one  hundred  pounds.  The^test  for  his  eye-sight  re- 
quired that,  with  each  eye  separately,  he  could  read  the  small  print 
employed  at  a  distance  of  at  least  thirty-four  inches.  The  following 
table  gives  a  summary  view  of  the  results  of  comparing  the  various 
classes  ;  each  of  these  being  selected,  of  course,  for  eminence  in  one 
quality  only. 


10  THE  MON1ST. 

FIRST  CLASS.  EYES.  PULL.   •      SQUEEZE.    BREATHING.       HEIGHT.         WEIGHT. 

Eyes 34-7  §7-5  84-3  265.3  69.41  157.1 

Pull 25.6  112.3  94-1    "         282.9  69.98  167.7 

Squeeze 24.5  95.7  102.3  279.8  7Q-41  169.2 

Breathing '.      24.8  93.8  91.4  321.0  71. 34  168.1 

Height 24.6  88.3  89.2  291.0  73-31  170.8 

Average  student  ..      23.6  83.0  83.4  255.4  68.91  153-3 

The  meaning  of  this  will  be  readily  understood.  Thus  the  men 
comprising  our  first  class  in  respect  of  their  pulling  power  (the  mini- 
mum requirement  being  one  hundred  pounds)  can,  on  an  average, 
read  at  a  distance  of  25.6  inches;  can,  on  an  average,  pull  112.3 
pounds,  and  so  on.  The  result  is,  I  think,  rather  remarkable,  for  it 
is  seen  that  great  superiority  in  any  one  direction  implies  decided 
superiority  in  every  other  direction.  That  some  of  these  capacities 
should  be  thus  correlated  is  only  what  we  should  expect ;  it  would 
be  thought  strange,  for  instance,  if  pulling  and  squeezing  power  did 
not  go  together,  or  height  and  weight.  But  one  could  not  with 
equal  confidence  have  anticipated  that  the  taller  men  should  have 
distinctly  better  eye-sight ;  or  that  the  men  selected  solely  for  their 
superior  eye-sight  should  have  decidedly  better  muscles  for  pulling 
purposes,  and  stand  half  an  inch  taller  than  the  average.  The  reader 
must  not  underrate  the  significance  of  the  apparently  small  differ- 
ences with  which  we  are  concerned.  We  are  dealing  with  the  ave- 
rages of  large  numbers;  large  enough  to  make  a  difference  of  half 
an  inch  of  stature  utterly  unaccountable  as  a  mere  coincidence. 

This  extent  of  correlation  of  physical  powers  seems  to  me  to  add 
considerably  to  the  value  of  our  tests.  It  meets  the  objection  that 
we  have  no  right  to  assume  that  the  tall  man,  or  the  man  with  mus- 
cular arms,  is  in  the  widest  sense  of  the  term  a  physically  robust  or 
strong  man.  If  we  find  that  four  or  five  perfectly  independent  tests 
all  point  in  the  same  general  direction,  we  have  some  ground  for 
supposing  that  the  qualities  thus  tested  are  not  independent,  but 
that  they  are  integral  components  in  the  building  up  of  the  generally 
healthy  and  powerful  man. 

As  regards  the  comparison  of  the  intellectual  and  the  physical 
arrangements  of  our  men,  the  simplest  plan  is  to  give  at  once  a 
summary  table  of  the  results. 


CORRELATION  OF  MENTAL  AND  PHYSICAL  POWERS.  II 


NUMBER 

BREATH- 

TESTED. 

EYES. 

PULL. 

SQUEEZE. 

HEAD. 

ING. 

HEIGHT. 

WEIGHT. 

A  .... 

674 

22.9 

81.8 

834 

243.82 

256.5 

68.81 

153-0 

B  .... 

1370 

23-7 

82.8 

83.2 

238.34 

255-7 

68.98 

152  5 

C  .... 

1138 

23  9 

84.1 

83.6 

236.44 

254-5 

68.88 

154.2 

Such  a  table  as  this  may  be  examined  with  two  different  de- 
grees of  minuteness  in  respect  of  the  appreciation  of  differences  ; 
which  would  commonly  be  called  the  practical  and  the  theoretical  way 
of  regarding  them.  By  the  former,  speaking  in  the  more  accurate 
language  of  statistics,  we  may  understand  a  degree  of  precision 
which  does  not  recognise  distinctions  of  less  than  about  four  or  five 
per  cent,  of  the  totals  involved.  Looked  at  with  this  degree  of 
nicety,  the  main  fact  that  the  tables  yield  is  that  there  is  really,rio 
difference  between  the  physical  characteristics  of  the  different  intel- 
lectual grades.  Whether  in  respect  of  height,  weight,  power  of 
squeeze,  eye-sight,  breathing  capacity,  or  head-dimensions,  one  class 
is  just  about  as  good  as  another.  The  trifling  existent  differences 
tell  sometimes  one  way  and  sometimes  the  other,  and  appear,  to  the 
eye  of  the  plain  man,  well  within  the  scope  of  accident.  There  are, 
indeed,  three  points  about  which  some  doubt  might  be  felt,  viz., 
the  size  of  the  head,  the  pulling  power,  and  the  eye-sight.  The 
first  of  these  is  of  sufficient  importance  to  be  reserved  for  special 
examination,  and  will  be  subjected  presently  to  a  severer  test.  The 
two  latter  are  just  the  sort  of  differences  as  to  the  significance  of 
which  the  untrained  mind  is  troubled  with  a  doubt.  The  high- 
honor  men  show  a  trifling  inferiority  of  eye-sight,  it  is  true  ;  but  the 
diminution  does  not,  so  to  say,  step  on  uniformly  through  the  three 
classes,  A,  B,  C.  On  the  other  hand,  the  falling  off  in  strength  of 
pull,  though  no  larger  in  amount,  does  seem  to  keep  step  somewhat 
better. 

The  matter  is  worth  looking  at  a  little  closer  from  a  slightly  dif- 
ferent point  of  view.  Revert  to  the  physical  distribution  of  the  men, 
described  already,  in  accordance  with  which  they  were  grouped  into 
ten  classes;  and  select  the  top  class,  which  comprises  "the  best  in 
ten."  They  are,  in  each  separate  department,  about  three  hundred 
in  number.  We  may  then  inquire,  in  respect  of  these  exceptionally 


12  THE  MONIST. 

vigorous  men,  How  are  they  distributed  as  regards  A,  JE>,  C?  We 
know  in  what  proportions  they  ought  to  be  distributed,  by  mere 
chance,  or  if  their  bodies  and  their  minds  had,  so  to  say,  nothing  to 
do  with  each  other  :  are  the  proportions  actually  found  to  prevail, 
very  different  from  this  ?  The  answer  is  that,  as  regards  eye-sight, 
any  doubt  which  we  felt  at  first  may  now  be  considered  as  much 
weakened,  if  not  set  aside.  The  most  perfect  powers  of  vision  which 
our  test  can  furnish  are  very  nearly  as  likely  to  be  found  amongst 
the  hard-reading  and  high-honor  men  as  amongst  the  idlest.  The 
total  number  of  this  first  class  in  respect  of  sight  was  302.  The  dis- 
tribution of  them  into  A,  B,  and  C  that  would  have  been  expected 
if  the  qualities  were  quite  independent  is  64,  130,  and  108  :  the  ac- 
tual distribution  is  61,  140,  and  100,  a  very  trifling  difference.  It  is 
quite  clear  that,  taken  as  a  whole,  our  studious  men  do  not  over- 
strain their  eyes.  As  regards  the  pulling  power,  the  decision  yielded 
by  this  method  tells  the  other  way  ;  and  suggests  that,  for  one  rea- 
son or  another,  hard  reading  and  hard  pulling  are  slightly,  though 
only  very  slightly,  incompatible.  The  figures  are  these.  Our  first 
class  here  contains  289  men.  If  these  had  been  drawn  at  random 
out  of  the  A,  £,  C  classes,  we  should  have  expected  these  three 
classes  to  furnish  respectively  61,  124,  and  104.  As  a  matter  of  fact 
they  furnish,  41,  119,  and  129.  Such  a  difference  as  this,  then,  in- 
dicated by  one  kind  of  evidence  and  confirmed  by  a  slightly  different 
kind,  cannot  be  regarded  as  accidental.  Why  is  it  that  the  hard- 
reading  men,  who  are  just  as  well  developed  in  general  respects,— 
who  stand  as  high,  weigh  as  heavy,  and  have  equally  clear  eyes  and 
sound  lungs,  and  can  even  squeeze  as  hard  with  the  muscles  of  the 
hands, — why  is  it  that  they  show  a  small  but  distinctly  marked  de- 
ficiency in  the  particular  action  of  pulling  at  a  bow?  The  only  rea- 
son which  seems  at  all  plausible  is  that  though  these  men  take 
abundantly  sufficient  out-door  exercise  to  develop  their  general  ca- 
pacities, they,  or  a  considerable  minority  of  them,  do  not  so  largely 
practice  certain  athletic  exercises  which  strengthen  the  muscles  in 
question.  In  other  words,  they  are  presumably  less  addicted  on  the 
whole  to  rowing,  cricket,  and  tennis.  One  would  not  have  thought 
it  was  so,  speaking  from  a  general  knowledge  of  their  habits  ;  but 


CORRELATION  OF  MENTAL  AND  PHYSICAL  POWERS.  13 

it  certainly  seems  as  if  this  was  the  only  probable  explanation  of  the 
undoubted  facts  of  experience. 

The  foregoing  conclusions  are,  I  think,  the  most  important 
which  could  safely  be  drawn  by  the  practical  man  who  judges  the 
statistics  as  they  stand  ;  that  is,  without  resort  to  any  of  the  tests 
which  theory  can  offer  for  our  help.  When  we  resort  to  this  aid  we 
are  able  to  give  a  satisfactory  answer  to  the  question  whether  the 
reading  men,  as  a  rule,  have  bigger  heads.  On  the  face  of  the  matter 
it  is  clear  that  they  do,  so  far  as  these  statistics  extend.  Moreover 
there  is  a  successive  advance  of  size  from  C  to  B,  and  from  B  to  A  ; 
and  also,  what  does  not  appear  from  the  only  tables  we  can  find  space 
for  here,  the  same  progressive  advance  is  exhibited  in  each  of  the 
three  separate  batches  of  about  one  thousand  each,  of  which  the 
total  before  us  is  made  up.  Still  the  resultant  difference  is  numer- 
ically small  :  it  only  amounts  to  somewhat  less  than  three  per  cent, 
of  the  totals.  Can  any  reliance  be  placed  upon  such  a  small  differ- 
ence? 

The  answer  is  that  the  difference  is  significant,  past  all  bounds 
of  reasonable  coincidence  or  accident.  The  way  in  which  the  sta- 
tistician treats  the  question  is  well  recognised.  He  first  inquires 
what  is  the  amount  of  fluctuation  or  variation  amongst  the  detailed 
measurements  ;  this  gives  him  a  measure  of  the  degree  of  uncer- 
tainty attaching  to  the  individual  observation.  He  then  asks  what 
is  the  total  number  thrown  together  into  one  class  in  order  to  fur- 
nish an  average.  A  great  deal  turns  upon  the  magnitude  of  the  num- 
bers with  which  we  are  thus  dealing.  If,  for  instance,  we  had  based 
our  conclusion  upon  the  averages  drawn  from  classes  consisting  of 
only  ten  each,  nothing  worth  a  moment's  notice  would  have  been 
obtained.  If  based  upon  a  hundred,  the  conclusion  would  still  have 
been  worth  but  very  little.  But  in  the  case  before  us  we  have, 
roughly  speaking,  about  a  thousand  separate  instances  in  each  of  the 
three  classes  under  comparison.  It  admits  of  proof  that  a  difference 
amounting  to  three  per  cent,  has  chances  measured  by  thousands 
to  one  against  its  having  been  of  accidental  origin.  We  need  feel 
no  manner  of  doubt  that  if  we  were  to  take  a  fresh  batch  of  three 
thousand  measurements  of  the  same  kind,  and  subject  them  to  the 


14  THE  MONIST. 

same  sort  of  examination  we  should  have  a  recurrence  of  the  same 
results.  This  is,  in  fact,  what  we  mean  by  a  non-accidental  phe- 
nomenon.* 

The  set  of  statistics  from  which  the  above  conclusion  was  drawn 
were  also  employed  to  decide  another,  and  very  different  question. 
It  has,  unless  I  am  mistaken,  been  held  that  the  growth  of  the  head 
ceases  at  about  19.  Our  statistics,  when  the  A,  B,  C  classes  are  all 
thrown  into  one,  and  these  are  arranged  in  order  of  age  instead  of 
any  kind  of  intellectual  order,  furnish  a  fairly  satisfactory  answer  to 
this  inquiry.  What,  of  course,  in  full  strictness  we  ought  to  do,  is 
to  get  hold  of  the  same  men  and  measure  them  each  year  from  18 
to  24,  say,  and  then,  by  comparison  of  a  number  of  such  sets  of  ob- 
servations, decide  if  there  is  any  growth  in  the  dimensions.  This 
we  could  not  do,  for  the  men  who  appeared  were  all  volunteers  who 
could  not  be  summoned  for  re-measurement,  and  indeed  very  few 
of  them  could  have  been  found  who  would  be  resident  for  a  suffi- 
ciently long  period.  But  one  of  the  many  conveniences  of  the  sta- 
tistical handling  of  large  numbers  is  that,  for  certain  purposes,  the 
examination  of  different  men  at  the  same  time  will  be  practically 
equivalent  to  the  examination  of  the  same  men  at  different  times. 
So  here.  Take  400  or  500  different  men  at  each  successive  age  from 
18  to  24,  and  the  results  for  statistical  purposes  will  be  just  the  same 
as  if  we  took  the  same  batch  of  men  and  measured  them  year  after 
year.  We  feel  confident  in  doing  this,  because  we  know  that  the 


*  The  figures  given  in  the  table  were  obtained  as  follows  :  Three  measurements 
of  the  head  of  each  man  were  taken  :  the  width,  from  side  to  side  ;  the  depth,  from 
front  to  back  ;  and  the  height,  above  a  plane  passing  through  the  ears  and  eye-balls. 
These  three  multiplied  together,  yield  what  we  may  call  a  "head-volume,"  viz.,  a 
number  proportional,  on  an  average,  to  the  size  of  the  head.  What  in  strictness  we 
ought  to  have  taken  for  subsequent  examination  would  then  be  the  mean,of  these 
products.  But,  as  this  would  have  taken  very  great  labor,  I  have  taken  instead  the 
product  of  the  means  of  each  of  the  three  separate  measurements.  The  difference 
thus  involved  is  very  small,  and  for  the  purposes  of  our  inquiry  is  quite  unimpor- 
tant. The  average  of  these  products  is  about  240  ;  the  "probable  error"  of  the  in- 
dividual products  is  about  17.  The  usual  formula  for  the  ' '  probable  error  "  between 
the  means  of  two  batches,  each  containing  1000,  would  be  17  X  ]/  i  -1-500,  viz.  less 
than  i.  The  actual  difference  amounts  to  7,  which  is  enormously  improbable  as  a 
chance  result. 


CORRELATION  OF  MENTAL  AND  PHYSICAL  POWERS.  15 

men  who   come  up  year  after  year  all  belong  to  the  same  homo- 
geneous class. 

AGE  18          19          20          21          22          23          24          25 

HEAD...    236.4     236.7     237.6     238.3     239.8     240.6     243.5     243.5 

These  represent  a  total  of  3192  men.  The  last  compartment 
comprises  those  of  all  ages  from  25  upwards,  though  those  who  are 
beyond  this  last  age  are  extremely  few  in  number.  The  figures  in- 
dicate a  slow  but  unmistakable  growth  in  the  size  of  the  head  during 
the  whole  of  the  college  career.  It  may  be  remarked  that  there  is 
no  growth  of  stature  perceptible  during  this  period. 

There  is  one  very  important  conclusion  which  may  be  drawn 
from  the  results  of  these  anthropometrical  observations.  It  concerns 
what — if  this  is  not  too  pedantical  an  expression  to  use — may  be 
called  the  theory  of  examination.  In  England,  and  elsewhere,  a 
large  number  of  posts  in  the  Civil  Service  and  other  branches  of  the 
state  employment  are  awarded  by  the  results  of  examination.  There 
is,  of  course,  in  most  or  all  of  these  some  preliminary  physical  test 
demanded  ;  but  this  is  merely  a  requirement  which  every  candidate 
must  pass;  it  forms  no  part  of  the  real  examination  itself.  No  marks 
are  awarded  for  distinction  in  this  respect,  and  no  further  attention 
is  paid  to  it  in  case  the  candidate  succeeds  in  satisfying  the  medical 
man  that  the  minimum  requirement  has  been  attained. 

It  has  been  suggested,  however,  that  something  far  beyond  this 
might  conveniently  be  introduced.  As  the  grounds  on  which  such 
a  suggestion  is  based  are  not  generally  understood,  a  few  words  of 
explanation  may  be  advisable.  In  most  of  the  examinations  of  any 
magnitude  with  which  the  state  is  concerned,  it  may  be  taken  as  a 
fact  of  experience  that  the  number  of  candidates  bears  some  mod- 
erate ratio  to  the  number  of  those  who  compete.  If,  for  instance, 
there  are  30  posts  to  be  given  away,  we  should  expect  perhaps  60 
or  100  to  apply  for  them  :  it  would  be  a  rare  thing  to  find  these 
numbers  as  low  on  the  one  hand  as,  say,  35,  or  as  high  on  the  other 
as  300  or  400.  From  this  an  important  consequence  follows.  It  is 
well  known  that  whenever  a  considerable  number  of  objects  are  ar- 
ranged in  order  of  magnitude  or  intensity  in  respect  of  any  quality, 
the  differences  between  them  are  very  much  greater  towards  the  two 


I  6  THE   MON1ST. 

ends  than  towards  the  middle.  This  is  only  a  case  of  the  so-called 
Law  of  Large  Numbers.  If  it  was  a  case  of  measurement  of  stature, 
for  instance,  of  one  thousand  men,  we  shall  probably  find  that  at 
the  top  and  bottom  of  our  list, — amongst  the  giants  and  the  dwarfs, — 
two  successive  men  might  differ  by  as  much  as  several  entire  inches  ; 
whilst  towards  the  middle  we  might  range  over  one  hundred  without 
finding  a  total  difference  of  a  single  inch.  The  same  fact  is  no- 
toriously true  in  examinations,  wherever  marks  can  be  assigned  with 
any  accuracy.  In  mathematics,  for  example,  the  first  few  men  will 
differ  widely  from  each  other  in  merit ;  and,  if  the  same  does  not 
hold  good  of  the  men  who  come  last,  this  is  partly  because  the  really 
bottom  men  know  better  than  to  go  in  for  such  an  examination. 
They  have  been  otherwise  provided  for. 

It  follows  from  these  two  facts, — the  law  of  grouping  about 
the  mean,  and  the  empirical  observation  as  to  the  proportional  num- 
bers of  candidates, — that  the  men  who  are  only  just  excluded  are 
practically  quite  as  worthy  as  those  who  are  only  just  admitted. 
Accident  rather  than  merit  has  determined  their  fate,  the  differences 
amongst  them  being  too  small  for  accurate  determination.  Suppose, 
to  put  a  fictitious  case,  that  three  hundred  men  had  applied  for  one 
hundred  posts  in  the  army  or  in  the  civil  service.  The  examiners 
do  their  work,  and  give  us  a  list  of  the  one  hundred  who  come  out 
first.  But  if  they  have  any  experience  they  are  well  aware  that  if 
they  were  to  go  through  the  same  process  a  second  time,  or  the  task 
were  assigned  to  another  set  of  equally  competent  examiners,  the 
result  would  be  different.  All  the  men  who  were  high  up  in  the  list 
would  invariably  be  again  secured,  but  it  is  not  at  all  unlikely  that 
some  ten  or  fifteen  of  those  at  the  bottom  would  find  that  their  places 
had  been  taken  by  others. 

We  know,  then,  that  in  respect  of  the  subject-matter  of  that  ex- 
amination it  really  matters  very  little  which  particular  set  of  men  we 
select,  provided  that  we  are  speaking  of  those  who  are  some  con- 
siderable way  down  the  list.  We  adhere  to  the  examiners'  order, 
not  because  we  have  any  firm  faith  in  its  accuracy,  but  because  there 
would  otherwise  be  suspicion  of  unfairness.  But  it  becomes  a  per- 
tinent inquiry  whether  some  other  test,  of  a  physical  kind,  might 


CORRELATION   OF  MENTAL  AND  PHYSICAL  POWERS.  lj 

not  be  introduced  in  order  to  distinguish  between  them.  In  the 
above  example  ;  if  we  take  the  ten  who  just  get  in  and  the  twenty 
who  just  fail,  we  know  that  they  are  all,  so  far  as  the  intellectual 
character  under  examination  is  concerned,  practically  on  a  par.  But, 
so  far  as  their  physical  character  is  concerned  they  are  by  no  means 
on  a  par,  but  will  differ  as  widely  as  any  random  selection  of  thirty 
might  be  expected  to  do.  We  might  therefore  gain  much  as  regards 
the  body,  and  lose  very  little  as  regards  the  mind,  by  subjecting 
these  thirty  to  a  purely  physical  test,  and  selecting  the  ten  best,  on 
this  ground  alone.  So  long  as  it  was  doubtful  whether  bodily  and 
mental  excellence  were  not  to  some  extent  antagonistic,  there  might 
have  been  considerable  risk  in  adopting  such  a  course.  But  now 
that  we  know  that  there  is  decided  evidence  in  support  of  the  view 
that  these  qualities  are  independent  of  each  other,  it  is  otherwise. 
Amongst  the  thirty  men  between  whom  no  ordinary  examiner  could 
rationally  and  confidently  discriminate,  the  physical  examiner  will 
probably  find  a  very  wide  difference. 

If  it  ever  were  found  desirable  thus  to  introduce  physical  tests 
into  our  examination  procedure,  the  physiologist  and  medical  man 
would  have  to  be  consulted  as  to  the  particular  form  of  test  to  be 
selected.  So  far  as  our  special  results  are  concerned,  I  should  have 
been  inclined  to  think  that  the  best  single  test  is  that  of  the  breath- 
ing power.  The  general  law  that  excellence  in  one  department  is 
correlated  with  decided  superiority  in  all  others  seems  to  be  more 
than  usually  applicable  here.  Experience  shows  that  our  physical 
first  class,  when  selected  on  this  ground,  yields  a  slightly  higher 
level  all  round  than  when  selected  on  any  other  ground,  though  the 
difference  is  not  great.  I  was  also  inclined  to  think,  at  first,  that 
there  might  be  a  further  advantage  in  the  fact  that  this  characteris- 
tic was,  so  to  say,  somewhat  more  deeply  seated  in  our  frame  ;  that 
it  might  not,  therefore,  be  so  readily  "crammed"  for  the  special 
purpose  of  examination.  But  an  expert  in  such  matters  informs  me 
that  this  is  not  so,  and  that  an  ingenious  "coach"  can,  with  a  little 
training,  soon  produce  a  large  relative  increase  in  the  measured 
capacity  of  inspiration  and  expiration.  The  fact  is,  unfortunately, 
that  whenever  we  resort  to  examination  of  any  kind  we  shall  sooner 


1 8  '     THE  MONIST. 

or  later  find  that  we  have  to  reckon  with  the  crammer.  His  ways 
are  past  finding  out,  at  any  rate  by  devices  to  which  the  examiner 
can  fairly  resort.  Many  a  little  scheme,  which  in  itself  would  have 
baen  excellent  as  a  test,  has  been  ruined  in  this  way.  Could  the 
men  have  been  brought  forward  in  uniform  ignorance  of  what  they 
were  going  to  be  subjected  to,  we  might  have  secured  an  excellent 
means  of  discrimination  amongst  them.  But  the  crammer's  fore- 
sight has  anticipated  us  ;  and  we  soon  find  that  what  we  are  really 
testing  is,  not  the  natural  capacity  of  the  men,  nor  even  their  ac- 
quired capacity,  but  rather  the  ingenuity  of  their  temporary  teacher 
and  the  length  of  time  they  have  been  under  his  charge. 

Whilst  on  this  subject,  there  is  one  illustration  of  too  important 
a  nature  to  be  omitted.  It  has  been  already  pointed  out  that,  so 
long  as  we  deal  with  any  large  homogeneous  class,  we  may  safely 
assume  the  independence  of  the  physical  and  mental  qualities.  We 
feel  sure  that  by  raising  our  demands  in  the  latter  respect  we  shall 
not  be  obliged  to  lower  them  in  the  former.  But  when  the  class  is 
not  homogeneous  this  postulate  is  no  longer  sound,  and  we  may 
fall  into  very  serious  error.  Broadly  speaking,  the  Cambridge  stu- 
dents, as  already  remarked,  are  a  very  homogeneous  body.  But 
there  is  found  amongst  them,  at  the  present  day,  a  sub-class  of  a 
very  different  origin.  The  Indian  students,  though  not  a  numerous 
body,  have  furnished  a  sufficient  number  of  data  for  us  to  be  able 
to  draw  some  conclusions  as  to  their  general  average  characteristics. 
These  men,  it  need  hardly  be  said,  do  not  come  from  the  fighting 
races  of  the  Northwest  of  the  British  Indian  Empire,  but  almost 
exclusively  consist  of  highly  educated  Bengalees.  Intellectually 
they  show  no  deficiency.  They  are,  in  fact,  the  sort  of  men  who 
rise  to  the  top  in  any  examinations  in  which  they  are  pitted  against 
other  natives.  Some  of  them  have  already,  by  their  success  in  the 
Indian  Civil  Service  Examination,  earned  posts  in  which  they  as- 
sist in  governing  the  British  Empire.  So  long  as  their  numbers  are 
relatively  small,  probably  nothing  but  good  comes  of  this  ;  but  we 
may  fairly  ask  what  would  come  to  pass  if,  in  course  of  time, 
whether  owing  to  their  real  capacity,  their  disposition  to  the  career, 


CORRELATION  OF  MENTAL  AND  PHYSICAL  POWERS.  1 9 

or  their  relative  population,  the   number  of  selected  candidates  of 
these  nationalities  were  to  become  preponderant. 

Those  who  regard  consistent  adherence  to  the  course  in  which 
we  have  once  started  as  a  prime  duty,  will  doubtless  say  that  this  is 
all  as  it  should  be ;  for  that  the  men  who  rise  to  the  top  of  the  list 
have  thereby  proved  their  fitness  for  the  work  to  which  that  exami- 
nation was  the  portal.  I  am  not  going  to  argue  this  question,  but 
will  just  offer  one  small  contribution  to  its  solution.  These  clever 
Asiatics,  who,  as  we  find,  can  often  hold  their  own  against  their 
European  competitors  in  the  examination-room,  how  do  they  com- 
pare with  them  physically?  Reverting  to  our  scheme  of  arranging 
the  men  into  ten  successive  physical  classes,  what  we  find  is  briefly 
this  :  The  Indian  students,  on  an  average,  stand  in  respect  of  their 
"pull"  in  the  eighth  class;  in  their  "squeeze"  and  height,  in  the 
ninth  ;  in  their  breathing  power,  in  the  tenth.  They  are  nearly  half 
a  stone  less  in  weight,  and  their  eye-sight  is  similarly  below  the 
average.  Those  who  admit  that  physical  vigor  has  something  to  do 
with  the  foundation  and  retention  of  empires  will  allow  that  such 
facts  as  these  may  some  day  stand  in  need  of  careful  revision  and 
discussion. 

J.  VENN. 


DR.  WEISMANN  ON  HEREDITY  AND  PROGRESS. 

I  PROPOSE  to  consider  Professor  Weismann's  views  on  heredity 
and  progress  as  set  forth  in  his  recently  published  volume  on 
the  "Germ-Plasm  "  and  elsewhere.  But  I  must  consider  them  here 
rather  in  their  broad  and  philosophical  aspect  than  in  minute  bio- 
logical detail.  Those  who  are  endeavoring  to  frame  a  monistic  in- 
terpretation of  nature  cannot  afford  to  pass  by  the  matured  conclu- 
sions of  a  thinker  distinguished  alike  by  his  mastery  of  facts  and  his 
power  of  bold,  keen,  and  fearless  speculation.  But  what  they  want 
is  the  net  result  of  his  observation  and  thought,  that  they  may  ap- 
preciate its  bearing  on  philosophy  in  general  and  monism  in  partic- 
ular. And  if  I  find  cause  to  criticise  some  of  Dr.  Weismann's  con- 
clusions I  shall  here  base  my  criticism  not  on  specifically  biological 
or  histological  grounds,  but  on  general  or  a  priori  considerations  ; 
for  though  it  is  folly  to  reject  a  carefully  observed  fact  on  a  priori 
grounds,  it  is  in  accordance  with  sound  method  to  submit  a  theory 
or  hypothesis  to  a  priori  criticism,  which  is  indeed  the  testing  of  the 
congruky  of  the  hypothesis  in  question  to  the  whole  body  of  philo- 
sophical knowledge  which  constitutes  the  interpretation  of  nature 
which  the  critic  has  been  led  to  accept. 

Taking  the  question  of  heredity  first,  let  us  select  three  well- 
known  facts  of  organic  life  and  see  how  Dr.  Weismann  explains 
them — always  remembering  that  he  puts  forward  his  explanation  no- 
wise dogmatically  but  with  due  modesty  and  reserve.  The  three 
facts  I  speak  of  are,  first,  the  development  of  the  higher  animal  or 
plant  from  a  fertilised  egg- cell ;  secondly,  the  development  of  cer- 
tain animals  or  plants  from  buds ;  and  thirdly,  the  regeneration  of 


DR.    WEISMANN  ON  HEREDITY  AND  PROGRESS.  21 

lost  parts.  This  regeneration,  to  take  that  first,  is  seen  both  in  the 
unicellular  and  in  the  multicellular  organisms.  If  the  oral  or  mouth  - 
end  of  one  of  the  infusorians  be  excised,  this  portion  will  be  repro- 
duced and  the  perfect  infusorian  reconstituted.  It  would  seem  to  be 
essential  that  the  part  in  which  the  missing  parts  are  thus  regener- 
ated should  contain  a  fragment  at  least  of  the  nucleus  of  the  cell 
which  constitutes  the  protozoan  animalcule.  So  that  we  may  say 
that  in  this  case  a  mutilated  fragment  of  an  infusorian  cell  possesses 
the  potentiality  of  reconstituting  by  assimilation  and  growth  the  per- 
fect unicellular  organism.  If  a  fresh-water  hydra  be  cut  in  two  and 
the  two  parts  carefully  watched,  that  which  contains  the  base  of  at- 
tachment will  be  seen  to  regenerate  a  new  mouth  and  tentacles, 
while  that  which  contains  the  mouth  and  tentacles  acquires  a  new 
base  of  attachment.  Or,  if  the  hinder  "horn"  of  a  snail — that  at 
the  end  of  which  is  the  eye — be  snipped  off,  a  new  horn,  with  a  new 
eye  perfect  in  all  its  parts,  will  be  regenerated  in  a  few  weeks,  the 
exact  time  varying  with  the  temperature  and  the  age  of  the  snail. 
And  this  will  occur  not  once  only,  but  many  times  in  succession. 
The  group  of  cells  which  remain  to  a  mutilated  hydra  or  snail  pos- 
sess the  potentiality  of  reproducing  by  assimilation  and  git>wth  the 
perfect  multicellular  organism. 

The  same  animal,  the  fresh- water  hydra,  will  afford  us  a  suffi- 
cient example  of  reproduction  by  budding.  Under  favorable  condi- 
tions of  temperature,  with  abundant  nutrition,  a  little  protuberance 
makes  its  appearance  in  the  tubular  body  of  the  polype.  This  grows 
rapidly,  and  gradually  assumes  the  form  of  a  smaller  hydra  attached 
to  the  parental  organism.  After  a  while  it  becomes  detached  as  an 
independent  individual.  The  body-wall  of  the  hydra  consists  in  the 
main  of  two  layers,  an  outer  layer  composed  of  large  conical  cells 
with  small  interstitial  cells  between  the  points  of  the  cones,  and  an 
inner  layer  of  nutritive  cells,  the  two  layers  being  separated  by  a 
thin  supporting  lamella.  And  it  would  seem  that  the  bud  takes  its 
origin  from  the  interstitial  cells  of  the  outer  layer.  Dr.  Weismann 
indeed  assumes  that  it  takes  its  origin  from  a  single  cell  of  the  inter 
stitial  series  ;  and  it  is  somewhat  characteristic  of  his  method  that 
the  assumption  once  made  rapidly  takes  the  form  of  a  statement  of 


22  THE  MONIST. 

fact.  "Each  bud,"  we  read,  "must  originally  arise  from  one  cell 
only,  although  the  fact  has  not  yet  been  actually  proved  "  ;  and  then, 
half  a  dozen  lines  further  down,  we  have:  "In  the  Hydromedusce, 
then,  each  bud  originates  in  a  single  cell."  The  admittedly  unproved 
assumption  already  poses  as  a  fact.  The  assumption  itself,  how- 
ever, is  not  an  improbable  one  ;  and  if  we  grant  its  validity  we  may 
say  that  in  the  hydra  a  single  interstitial  cell  has  the  potentiality  of 
producing  under  appropriate  conditions  an  organism  similar  to  the 
parent. 

Passing  to  the  sexual  method  of  reproduction  we  find  the  essence 
of  the  process  to  lie  in  this,  that  a  single  egg-cell  produced  by  an 
organism  unites  and  coalesces  with  a  single  sperm  cell  produced 
generally  but  not  invariably  by  another  organism  of  the  same  spe- 
cies, and  that  the  fertilised  ovum  thus  produced  has  the  potentiality 
of  producing  under  appropriate  conditions  an  organism  resembling 
the  parents.  In  certain  rare  cases,  where  parthenogenesis  obtains, 
fertilisation  does  not  occur,  but  the  ovum  alone  possesses  the  po- 
tentiality of  reproducing  an  organism  like  the  parent. 

Now  the  problem  is,  in  all  these  cases,  to  give  something  like  a 
scientific  explanation  of  what  I  have  termed  potentiality — the  po- 
tentiality in  the  divided  protozoan  cell  of  reconstituting  the  perfect 
unicellular  organism  ;  the  potentiality  in  the  mutilated  snail  of  re- 
generating a  lost  tentacle  ;  the  potentiality  in  certain  interstitial 
cells  of  the  hydra  of  giving  rise,  by  cell-multiplication  and  differen- 
tiation, to  young  hydras  ;  the  potentiality  in  the  fertilised  egg  of  re- 
producing an  organism  like  the  parent.  What  is  this  potentiality? 
What  is  there  actually  present  in  the  cell  or  cells  concerned  which 
may  afford  an  embryonic  basis  for  the  changes  which  under  appro- 
priate conditions,  follow  in  orderly  sequence  ? 

In  presenting  the  answer  which  Professor  Weismann  gives,  let 
us  take  first  the  case  of  the  unicellular  organism.  This  consists  of 
a  central  nucleus,  and  of  a  cell-body.  The  latter  exhibits  observable 
differentiations  of  structure ;  but  it  is  by  the  former,  the  nucleus, 
that  these  differentiations  are  controlled.  The  nucleus,  therefore, 
contains,  according  to  Professor  Weismann,  a  store  of  specialised 
particles  which  are  the  bearers  of  the  peculiar  morphological  qual- 


DR.    WEISMANN  ON  HEREDITY  AND  PROGRESS.  23 

ities  of  the  cell-body.  These  particles  he  terms  biophors.  The  bio- 
phors  are  to  molecules  what  molecules  are  to  atoms.  Just  as  the 
molecule  is  due  to  the  combination  and  grouping  of  atoms  to  form 
a  higher  physical  unit,  so  is  the  biophor  due  to  the  combination  and 
grouping  of  molecules  to  form  a  higher  biological  unit.  They  are  the 
smallest  units  which  exhibit  the  primary  vital  forces,  assimilation 
and  metabolism,  growth,  and  multiplication  by  fission.  With  such 
biophors,  then,  the  nucleus  of  the  protozoa  is  stored.  "  In  the  uni- 
cellular forms  heredity  will  therefore  depend,  firstly,  on  the  fact  that 
all  the  different  kinds  of  biophors  which  are  required  for  the  con- 
struction of  the  body  are  present  in  the  nucleus  in  a  latent  condition 
and  in  definite  proportions — very  probably  they  have  also  a  definite 
style  of  architecture  ;  and  secondly,  on  the  periodical  or  occasional 
migration  of  these  biophors  into  the  cell-body,  where  they  multiply 
and  become  arranged  in  obedience  to  the  forces  acting  within  them. 
The  difficulty  of  ascertaining  the  actual  mode  of  arrangement  is  no- 
where greater  than  in  the  case  of  the  higher  unicellular  forms.  How 
it  is  possible  that  the  nucleus  should  allow  only  those  kinds  of  bio- 
phors to  migrate  which  are  required  to  replace  those  structures  lost 
by  division?  And  why  do  these  biophors  always  move  either  in  the 
direction  of  the  missing  oral  region,  or  towards  the  posterior  end  of 
the  body,  according  to  which  parts  are  wanting  in  the  two  daughter- 
animals?  For  the  present  these  questions  are  unanswerable  ;  and  in 
the  meantime  we  must  be  content  with  having  shown  how  the  ma- 
terials for  the  construction  of  the  cell-substance  are  transmitted  from 
mother  to  daughter,  and  in  what  way  they  are  placed  at  the  disposal 
of  the  forces  acting  in  the  cell-body." 

We  may  say,  then,  that  in  the  reconstruction  of  a  divided  pro- 
tozoon  the  potentiality  is  due  to  the  assumed  presence  in  the  nucleus 
of  hypothetical  biophors.  Of  the  nature  of  the  forces  which  act 
upon  the  biophors  and  render  reconstruction  possible  we  know  little 
or  nothing.  It  is  clear  that  we  have  not  got  much  beyond  our  po- 
tentiality. Nevertheless,  the  conception  of  biophors  is  likely  to  be 
helpful. 

In  the  multicellular  organisms  we  have  an  assemblage  of  inde- 
pendently and  hereditarily  variable  parts  ;  but  the  number  of  these 


24  THE   MONIST. 

independently  variable  parts,  though  great,  falls  very  far  short  of 
the  vast  number  of  individual  cells  of  which  the  organism  is  com- 
posed, for,  in  the  first  place,  there  are  the  multitudes  of  practically 
identical  cells,  such,  for  example,  as  the  blood-corpuscles,  and,  in 
the  second  place,  many  of  these  parts  consist  of  groups  of  cells, 
such,  for  example,  as  the  spots  on  some  butterflies'  wings.  Dr. 
Weismann  assumes  that  for  each  independently  variable  type  of 
cells,  or  groups  of  cells,  there  exists  in  the  fertilised  ovum  a  deter- 
minant, that  is,  a  vital  unit  of  a  higher  order  than  the  biophor,  con- 
sisting of  a  group  of  biophors,  and  possessed  of  special  qualities. 
As  cell-division  proceeds,  these  determinants  are  distributed,  and 
when  they  reach  their  final  destination  in  the  course  of  development, 
they  break  up  or  disintegrate  into  their  constituent  biophors  and 
thus  determine  the  structure  of  the  ultimate  cells.  These  determi- 
nants are  capable  of  multiplication  by  fission  ;  and  hence  a  rela- 
tively limited  number  of  these  units  suffice  for  the  determination  of 
the  relatively  limitless  number  of  cells  in  the  completed  organism. 

Here  again,  without  undervaluing  the  suggestiveness  of  the 
hypothesis,  we  have  to  notice  that  what  is  really  the  essential  prob- 
lem— the  distribution  of  the  determinants  during  cell-division — re- 
mains untouched.  In  place  of  the  vague  potentiality  of  the  fertilised 
ovum  we  have  certain  hypothetical  structural  units,  the  determi- 
nants. How  the  potentiality  is  distributed,  and  how  the  determi- 
nants are  distributed,  are  alike  unknown.  It  is  clear  that  we  have 
not  got  much  beyond  our  potentiality.  Nevertheless,  the  concep- 
tion of  determinants,  as  an  attempt  to  think  along  physical  lines,  is 
to  be  welcomed. 

With  regard  to  the  budding  of  such  an  organism  as  the  Hydra, 
Professor  Weismann  has  not  much  to  offer  that  is  helpful  towards 
the  solution  of  the  problem.  What  he  does  offer  practically  comes 
to  this  :  Since  an  interstitial  cell  has  the  potentiality  of  giving  rise 
to  a  new  Hydra,  such  cell  must  have,  in  an  inactive  form,  all  the 
necessary  determinants.  Voila  tout !  So,  too,  with  regard  to  the  re- 
generation of  lost  parts.  The  cells  which  remain  are  assumed  to 
possess  supplementary  determinants  for  the  reconstruction  of  the 


DR.    WEISMANN  ON  HEREDITY  AND  PROGRESS.  25 

parts  which  are  lost.      There  is  but  little  advance  here  on  the  old- 
fashioned  potentiality. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  we  are  regarding  the  matter  from 
a  standpoint  which  only  permits  a  very  broad  and  general  view. 
There  is  in  Dr.  Weismann's  work  a  great  deal  of  accurate  and  sug- 
gestive biological  detail,  which  gives  to  his  whole  treatment  of  a 
difficult  subject  a  value  which  is  well  worthy  of  the  generous  wel- 
come which  it  has  received.  And  if  in  endeavoring  to  pierce  to  the 
hidden  cause  of  hereditary  transmission  he  has  failed  to  do  more 
than  suggest  that  the  transmitted  potentiality  is  due  to  transmitted 
biophors  and  determinants,  this  does  but  show  how  far  even  our 
leading  biologists  still  are  from  being  able  to  give  a  detailed  explana- 
tion of  the  mysteries  of  organic  development.  As  was  to  be  ex- 
pected from  a  student  of  morphology,  the  suggested  explanation  is 
mainly  structural,  though  references  to  the  unknown  forces  at  work 
are  not  omitted.  And  this,  no  doubt,  in  the  present  state  of  scien- 
tific knowledge,  is  the  wiser  course.  There  can  be  little  doubt  that 
structure  is  merely  the  visible  expression  of  the  subtle  play  of  in- 
visible forces  ;  but  we  are  wise  to  focus  our  attention  first  on  the 
structure  and  then  endeavor  to  pierce  to  its  hidden  cause.  Still  there 
is  perhaps  too  great  a  tendency  on  Dr.  Weismann's  part  to  lay  too 
much  stress  on  the  transmission  of  material  particles,  too  little  stress 
on  the  transference  of  subtle  modes  of  energy.  He  assumes  that 
each  vital  unit,  from  the  lowest  to  the  highest,  can  only  arise  by 
division  from  another  like  itself,  and  is,  therefore,  forced  to  attribute 
the  regeneration  of  lost  parts  in  the  unicellular  organism  to  migra- 
tion of  biophors  from  the  nucleus,  saying  that  such  regeneration 
cannot  be  the  result  of  the  emitted  influence  of  the  nuclear  sub- 
stance. This  is  so,  on  the  assumption  adopted  ;  and  it  may  be  so 
in  nature.  But  it  is  possible  that  the  reconstitution  is  due  to  the- 
play  of  molecular  forces  and  is  analogous  on  the  biological  plane,  to 
the  reconstitution  of  a  chipped  crystal  on  the  physical  plane. 

I  must  now  pass  to  the  second  division  of  my  subject,  namely, 
a  consideration  of  Professor  Weismann's  latest  views  on  progress  ; 
and  here  it  will  be  well  to  confine  our  attention  to  those  higher  ani- 
mals which  multiply  by  the  sexual  process,  each  individual  taking 


26  •  THE  MONIST. 

origin  in  a  fertilised  ovum.  The  ovum  and  the  sperm  by  which  it 
is  fertilised  alike  contain  germ-plasm  ;  and  this  germ-plasm  is  stored 
with  determinants  of  common  derivation  by  multiplication  with 
those,  the  distribution  and  disintegration  of  which  gave  rise  in  de- 
velopment to  the  parental  organisms.  We  may  put  the  matter  dia- 
grammatically  thus  :  The  compound  nucleus  of  the  fertilised  ovum 
is  divided  into  two  parts  of  similar  potentiality.  Of  these,  one, 
through  the  distribution  and  disintegration  of  the  contained  deter- 
minants, gives  rise  to  the  developing  organism.  The  other,  in- 
creased in  volume  through  nutrition  and  growth  and  subdivided  into 
ova  and  sperms,  is  retained  by  that  organism  in  the  undistributed 
condition,  to  subserve  the  purposes  of  further  reproduction.  Now 
progress  depends  on  variation  ;  and  the  question  here  is  : — how  do 
effective  variations  arise?  By  effective  variations  I  mean  those  in 
virtue  of  which  the  offspring  is  raised,  in  any  particular  respect,  be- 
yond the  maximum  in  either  parent  or  in  any  ancestor.  We  may 
distinguish  two  kinds  or  phases  of  progress.  First,  progress  through 
the  selection  of  existing  maxima  ;  secondly,  progress  beyond  the 
existing  maxima.  The  latter  involves  variations  of  the  kind  which 
I  have  here  termed  effective.  It  is  obvious  that  in  the  evolution  of 
the  existing  forms  of  life  such  variations  must  again  and  again  have 
occurred.  How  do  they  originate?  To  what  are  they  due? 

Let  us  first  note  that  no  process  of  selection  of  maxima  or 
elimination  of  minima  can  of  itself  give  rise  to  effective  variation. 
All  it  can  do  is  to  lead  to  breeding  from  maxima  only.  But,  of 
course,  if  the  maxima  are  raised  through  effective  variation,  then 
selection  or  elimination  may  conduce  to  interbreeding  between  these 
new  maxima  and  thus  lead  to  effective  progress.  Secondly,  let  us 
notice  that  no  getting  rid  of  determinants,  through  differential  divi- 
sion, either  in  the  process  of  the  multiplication  of  the  cells  which 
contain  the  germ-plasm,  or  in  the  process  known  as  the  "extrusion 
of  the  polar  cell,"  or  in  any  analogous  process  in  the  division  of 
sperms,  can  of  itself  contribute  to  effective  variation.  Such  effective 
variation  must  depend,  according  to  Professor  Weismann's  princi- 
ples, on  the  production  of  new  and  more  highly  evolved  determi- 
nants. Again  we  must  note  that  no  mingling  of  determinants  from 


DR.    WEISMANN  ON  HEREDITY  AND  PROGRESS.  2J 

different  sources  can  lead  to  effective  variation,  or  the  genesis  of 
more  highly  evolved  determinants.  At  one  time  Dr.  Weismann  was 
inclined  to  attribute  effective  progress  to  that  mingling  of  the  nuclear 
matter  of  ovum  and  sperm  in  sexual  reproduction  to  which  he  has 
applied  the  term  amphimixis.  Some  three  years  ago  the  present 
writer  drew  attention  to  the  fact  that  what  he  now  terms  effective 
progress  could  not  be  so  accounted  for.  Other  writers  have  insisted 
on  the  same  fact.  And  now  Dr.  Weismann  himself  says  that  "the 
origin  of  a  variation  is  equally  independent  of  selection  and  of 
amphimixis." 

To  what  then  does  Dr.  Weismann  attribute  effective  variation? 
"It  is  due,"  he  says,  "to  the  constant  recurrence  of  slight  inequal- 
ities of  nutrition  (the  term  'nutrition  '  being  used  in  its  widest  sense, 
so  as  to  include  differences  in  temperature,  etc.)  in  the  germ-plasm 
which  effect  every  determinant  in  one  way  or  another,  and  differ 
even  in  the  same  germ-plasm, — not  only  in  different  individuals  but 
also  in  different  regions."  "We  cannot  possibly  attribute,"  he  fur- 
ther says,  "the  immense  number  of  adaptations  to  rare,  fortuitous 
variations,  occurring  only  once.  The  necessary  variations  from  which 
transformations  arise  by  means  of  selection,  must  in  all  cases  be  ex- 
hibited over  and  over  again  by  many  individuals."  They  seem  to 
be  due  to  "the  permanent  action  of  uniform  changes  in  nutrition." 
"We  are  therefore  undoubtedly  justified  in  attributing  the  cause  of 
variation  (in  varieties  of  plants  which  have  originated  from  seeds) 
to  the  influence  of  changed  external  surroundings." 

How  changes  of  nutrition  produce  particular  variations  in  the 
determinants  of  the  germ-plasm  Dr.  Wei-smann  has  not  pretended 
to  say. 

Dr.  Weismann  remains  as  firmly  convinced  as  ever  that  char- 
acters acquired  by  the  individual  are  not,  and  on  his  interpretation 
cannot  be,  transmitted  to  that  individual's  offspring.  All  variations 
arise  endogenously  within  the  germ-plasm  ;  there  is  no  transference 
to  the  germ-plasm  of  exogenous  somatic  variations  impressed  upon 
or  evoked  in  the  muscular,  nervous,  epithelial,  or  other  tissues  of 
the  body.  In  this  he  is  quite  logical  and  consistent.  And  he  is  in 
my  opinion  right  in  maintaining  that  there  is  at  present  no  conclu- 


28  THE  MONIST. 

sive  evidence  in  favor  of  such  transmission  of  acquired  characters. 
Facts  or  groups  of  facts  with  a  general  tendency  in  that  direction 
there  may  be  ;  but  definite  proof,  in  my  judgment,  at  present  there 
is  not.  If  such  proof  should  eventually  be  forthcoming,  it  will  be 
difficult  to  resist  the  conclusion  that  the  determinants  of  the  germ- 
plasm,  if  such  exist,  are  subject  to  the  influence  of  the  complex 
transformations  of  energy  which  take  place  in  the  somatic  tissues. 
It  is  more  readily  conceivable  that  the  determinants  are  modifiable 
by  the  functional  activity  of  parts  which  originate  by  the  distribu- 
tion and  disintegration  of  similar  determinants,  than  that  they  are 
modifiable  by  material  particles,  biophors  or  other,  transmitted  to 
the  germ-plasm  from  the  varying  somatic  parts.  All  such  specula- 
tions are,  however,  at  present,  premature. 

We  may  now  sum  up  in  a  few  words  the  salient  features  of  Dr. 
Weismann's  views  on  development,  heredity,  and  progress,  in  so 
far  as  they  apply  to  the  higher  animals,  (i)  The  development  of 
the  individual  from  a  fertilised  ovum  is  essentially  germinal  •  that  is 
to  say  the  compound  nucleus  already  contains  in  the  form  of  deter- 
minants the  germs  of  all  the  varied  parts  of  the  complex  organism 
into  which  it  will  develop.  (2)  Heredity  is  provided  for  by  the  con- 
stant holding  in  reserve  of  some  of  the  germinal  matter  which  in- 
creases by  growth  and  cell  division,  portions  thereof  being  period- 
ically detached  in  the  form  of  ova  and  sperms.  (3)  Effective  varia- 
tion, on  which  progress  through  natural  selection  depends,  is  pro- 
vided for  by  the  influence  of  "nutrition"  upon  the  determinants 
contained  in  this  reserve  germ-plasm. 

The  first  of  these  propositions  is  a  modern  restatement  of  the 
old  hypothesis  of  "  evolution  " — this  word  being  here  used  in  a  sense 
different  from  that  which  is  to-day  in  every  one's  mouth.  "Evolu- 
tion "  here  means  unfolding  ;  and  is  applied  to  the  view  that  the  po- 
tentiality of  development  of  the  fertilised  ovum  is  due  to  the  exist- 
ence therein  of  miniature  parts  exactly  resembling  those  of  the  adult. 
It  is  opposed  to  "  epigenesis  "  concerning  which  Professor  Weis- 
mann  says  :  "I  tried  in  several  ways  to  arrive  at  a  satisfactory  epi- 
genetic  theory,  which,  starting  from  a  germ-substance  of  compara- 
tively simple  structure,  should  exhibit  the  various  differentiations  of 


DR.    WEISMANN  ON   HEREDITY  AND  PROGRESS.  2Q 

the  organism  as  due  to  regular  changes  brought  about  by  the  divi- 
sion of  this  primary  structure.  But  the  more  I  considered  the  prob- 
lem as  time  went  on,  the  more  I  was  convinced  that  such  a  solution 
was  impossible."  This  I  take  it  is  a  distinct  and  total  rejection  of 
epigenesis.  And  in  the  light  of  this  complete  rejection  of  epigenesis 
we  may  infer  what  a  determinant  is.  It  is,  in  the  first  place,  a  par- 
ticle of  germ-plasm  which  corresponds  to  and  determines  the  cells 
or  groups  of  cells  which  are  independently  variable.  Let  us  suppose 
that  my  finger-nail  is  an  independently  variable  part,  the  product  of 
a  single  determinant.  Then  if  the  nail  was  formed  by  "evolution  " 
and  nowise  epigenetically,  its  determinant  contained  in  miniature 
all  the  minute  details  of  its  structure,  only  enfolded  and  not  yet  un- 
folded. So  that,  in  the  second  place,  the  determinant  though  it  is 
not  a  miniature  of  the  fully  formed  part,  contains  enfolded  minia- 
ture germs  of  all  the  details  of  that  part.  Every  detail  is  already 
present,  *but  the  details  are  not  yet  marshalled  and  ordered.  And 
in  general  all  the  details  of  the  adult  (with  the  exception  of  those 
which  are  due  to  repetition  and  could  thus  arise  by  multiplication) 
are  represented  in  the  nucleus  of  the  fertilised  ovum. 

It  is  questionable  whether  this  structural  thesis  can  be  main- 
tained either  biologically  or  physically.  But  it  is  when  we  come  to 
consider  the  energy  rather  than  the  matter,  that  the  conception  of 
"  evolution  "  (unfolding)  seems  to  me  completely  to  break  down.  It 
is  inconceivable  that  in  the  compound  nucleus  of  the  fertilised  ovum 
there  exist  in  miniature  all  the  varied  modes  of  energy  that  charac- 
terise the  life  of  the  adult  organism.  We  are  forced  to  believe  that 
this  complex  energy  arises  epigenetically  from  the  simpler  energy  of 
the  ovum.  And  if  there  is  this  epigenetic  development  of  energy, 
it  is  reasonable  to  infer  that  there  is  an  epigenetic  development  of 
the  structure  which  manifests  this  energy.  I  believe  therefore  that 
the  first  of  the  three  propositions  is  unsound  at  the  core  and  should 
be  rejected. 

The  second  proposition,  if  it  be  held  to  involve  an  absolute  dis- 
tinction between  germ-plasm  and  body-plasm,  is  of  doubtful  valid- 
ity. But  if  it  be  taken  broadly  as  a  statement  of  the  view  that  cer- 


30  THE  MONIST. 

tain  cells  remain  comparatively  undifferentiated  and   retain  the  po- 
tentiality of  reproduction,  it  may  be  accepted. 

The  third  proposition,  that  effective  variation  is  due  to  the  in- 
fluence of  nutrition  upon  the  determinants  contained  in  the  reserve 
germ-plasm,  seems  to  throw  too  much  stress  on  the  nutrition  and 
environment,  too  little  on  the  inherent  activities  of  living  matter. 
But  if  it  be  regarded  as  an  expression  of  the  fact  that  all  effective 
variation  is  a  joint  product  of  the  inherent  activities  of  germinal 
cells  and  the  conditioning  effects  of  their  environment,  it  is  a  self- 
evident  proposition  which  may  be  cheerfully  accepted. 

t 

C.   LLOYD  MORGAN. 


AGNOSTICISM. 

A  POSTHUMOUS  ESSAY.* 

\  S  the  Greek  word  Gnostikos  means  capable  of  knowledge,  we  may 
-£**  conclude  that  an  Agnostikos  is,  according  to  the  name  he  him- 
self assumes,  a  man  incapable  of  knowledge.  And,  because  he  is  in- 
capable of  knowledge,  he  concludes  that  no  knowledge  is  obtain- 
able. This  may  be  admirable  logic,  but  it  is  a  sorry  foundation  for 
a  philosophy  of  enormous  pretensions. 

It  is  only  because  the  higher — or,  perhaps,  it  would  be  more 
correct  to  say,  the  deeper — philosophy  is  so  little  studied  in  Eng- 
land that  so,  shallow  a  thing  as  Agnosticism  has  been  so  extensively 
accepted  among  us.  The  chief  champion  of  Agnosticism  has  been 


*  The  life  of  William  Maccall  was  uneventful.  He  was  born  at  Largs  (Scot- 
land), and  was  educated  for  the  ministry.  For  many  years  he  was  prominent  in  the 
Unitarian  pulpit,  and,  rinding  this  too  narrow,  accepted  the  Rationalist  press  and 
platform  as  opportunities  for  propaganda.  His  literary  friendships  were  notable — 
Professor  Wilson,  J.  S.  Mill,  and  Carlyle  among  the  illustrious  list.  He  com- 
menced his  autobiography  in  the  pages  of  The  Agnostic  Jotirnal,  but  only  reached 
his  college  days  ;  he  died,  disappointed  to  the  last,  but  with  rugged  independence 
unimpaired.  His  principal  works  were  :  The  Elements  of  Individualism  ;  National 
Missions  ;  Foreign  Biographies  (two  volumes) ;  Bygone  Days  (three  volumes  from 
the  German);  The  Man  of  Birth  and  the  Woman  of  the  People  (three  volumes  from 
the  Swedish);  Agents  of  Civilisation,  etc.  In  a  brilliant  volume  on  The  A Vr.v.sV 
Materialism  he  assailed  Spencer  memorably.  Moods  and  Memories  was  published 
shortly  before  his  death,  four  or  five  years  ago,  and  preserved  some  of  his  best 
poetry.  He  consistently  refused  a  Civil  Service  pension  Mr.  Gladstone  was  in- 
fluenced to  offer — no  man  despised  money  more  than  he,  even  in  gaunt  adversity. 
The  essay  here  published  for  the  first  time  was  written  shortly  before  his  death 
and  presented  to  Mr.  Charles  A.  Watts,  to  whom  we  are  indebted  for  the  manu- 
script. The  reader  will  find  further  information  on  William  Maccall  in  an  attrac- 
tive article  by  Amos  Waters,  which  has  appeared  in  No.  313  of  The  Open  Coitrf. 


32  THE  MONIST. 

proclaimed  by  his  enthusiastic  admirers  the  greatest  of  all  philoso- 
phers in  language — ludicrous  from  its  exaggeration,  and  pitiable 
from  its  imbecility.  Verily,  the  god  and  the  adorers  of  the  god  are 
worthy  of  each  other.  This  profound  thinker  made  the  astounding 
discovery  that  the  universe  is  unknowable,  is  inscrutable.  With 
the  recognition  of  the  sublime  discovery  the  whole  range  of  mental 
speculation  is  to  be  revolutionised ;  all  the  sciences  are  to  receive 
new  life  and  grand  transformation  ;  politically,  socially,  morally, 
religiously,  the  whole  world  is  to  undergo  the  divinest  metamor- 
phosis. But  suppose  that  there  has  really  been  no  discovery  ;  sup- 
pose that  from  the  remotest  times  men  have  viewed  the  seen  as  the 
image  of  the  unseen,  earth  as  the  vestibule  of  the  skies  ;  suppose 
that  every  religion  has  mystery  as  foundation  and  as  essence  ;  sup- 
pose that  every  religion  claiming  to  be  revealed  declares  that  the 
revelation  simply  deepens  the  mystery — must  not  Agnosticism,  in 
reference  to  its  leading  principle,  be  spurned  as  an  egregious  quack- 
ery ? 

Agnosticism  confounds  things  that  have  no  relation  to  each 
other.  While  vindicating  science,  it  makes  a  show  of  patronising 
religion  and  of  reconciling  religion  with  science.  With  the  Unknown 
and  the  Unknowable  science  has  nothing  whatever  to  do.  The  Un- 
known and  the  Unknowable  are,  for  science,  the  non-existent.  As 
its  name  implies,  science  deals  with  the  Known  and  the  Knowable. 
When  it  prates  of  the  Unknown  and  the  Unknowable,  it  uses  a 
meaningless  jargon.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  in  the  Unknown  and 
the  Unknowable  that  religion  lives,  moves,  and  has  its  being.  Re- 
ligion is  impelled  towards  mysticism,  just  as  science  is  impelled  to- 
wards rationalism.  It  is  a  blunder  as  monstrous  to  introduce  mys- 
ticism into  science  as  to  introduce  rationalism  into  religion.  A 
mystical  science  is  a  contradiction  in  terms.  A  rational  religion  is 
a  contradiction  in  terms.  Hence  Protestant  churches,  to  the  ex- 
tent that  they  are  rationalistic,  are  not  religious.  It  is  in  phantasy 
and  emotion  that  religion  has  its  life,  and  it  is  in  symbol  and  rite 
that  it  has  its  expression.  In  Protestantism  phantasy  and  emotion 
have  slender  sway,  and  symbol  and  rite  are  subordinated  to  dogma. 
The  religious  penury  of  Protestantism  is  as  flagrant  as  its  foe,  Ro- 


AGNOSTICISM.  33 

manism,  represents  it.  Dogma  had  no  place  in  the  ancient  religions, 
has  none  in  the  deepest  Oriental  religions  ;  and  if  that  phantom 
called  the  Religion  of  trie  Future  ever  takes  solid  shape,  it  is  by 
the  rejection  of  dogma  that  it  must  begin,  and  by  the  adoration  of 
mysticism  as  the  sole  source  of  spiritual  sympathy  and  vitality.  The 
persons  called  Liberals  prophesy  the  reign  of  reason,  in  which  God 
is  to  be  tolerated  if  content  with  the  fragments  that  fall  from  the 
altar  of  the  goddess  Reason.  But  why  should  we  expect  them  to 
be  more  reasonable  than  the  universe  itself,  in  which  nothing  is  dis- 
cernible but  the  action  of  instinctive  force?  It  is  to  this  instinctive 
force,  the  supreme  creative  energy,  that  the  mystical  element  in  the 
individual  must  draw  near.  In  opposition  to  Rome,  Protestantism 
vindicated  the  right  of  private  judgment,  as  if  religion  were  wholly 
the  affair  of  the  cold  and  barren  understanding.  Private  judgment 
very  soon  finds  that  it  can  dispense  with  religion  altogether.  But, 
if  the  individual  is  convinced  that  the  whole  past  has  significance, 
and  the  whole  seen  and  unseen  universe  has  suggestiveness  entirely 
in  reference  to  the  instinctive  and  the  mysterious  in  himself,  he 
plunges  further  and  further  into  the  ecstatic  abyss  of  Intuition. 
The  Panontist,  the  believer  in  Instinct  as  the  greater  and  in  Reason 
as  the  lesser,  is  the  harbinger  of  an  enfranchisement  which  may  be 
yet  far  off,  but  which  is  sure  at  last  to  arrive. 

It  is  as  a  genteeler,  and  at  the  same  time  more  cowardly,  kind 
of  Atheism  that  Agnosticism  is  attractive  to  many  silly  and  super- 
ficial mortals.  A  frank,  fanatical  Atheist  justly  demands  from  us 
the  esteem  due  to  earnestness.  But  the  man  who,  purely  as  a 
dilettante,  debates  the  question  of  God's  existence,  must  receive 
from  us  the  dilettante's  reward. 

Often  it  is  said  that  the  present  age  is  a  sceptical  age.  But  no 
age  is  sceptical,  though  one  age  may  be  more  influenced  than 
another  by  the  sceptical  spirit.  Men  in  the  mass  are  always  be- 
lievers, and  are  the  more  superstitious  the  more  there  is  of  apparent 
incredulity.  Skepsis  means  deliberation  and  the  discussion  which  is 
the  result  of  deliberation.  Intellectually  it  is  an  instrument,  morally 
it  is  a  mood  ;  but  it  can  never  be  a  system.  It  does  not  of  necessity 
imply  doubt,  and  it  is  never  identical  with  negation.  A  true  seep- 


34 


THE  M  ONI  ST. 


tic  is  a  true  thinker ;  and  it  is  ridiculous  to  dignify  rabid  negation- 
ism  with  the  name  of  scepticism. 

In  human  communities  all  real  growth  is  moral  growth  ;  all  real 
decay  is  moral  decay.  And  there  is  peril  to  every  community  in 
which  intellectual  progress  is  not  simply  the  minister  of  moral  de- 
velopment, the  food  of  the  moral  life.  Now,  a  chief  characteristic 
of  our  own  age  is  superficial  intellectual  excitement,  which  allies 
itself  with  other  causes  in  producing  moral  languor  and  debility. 
The  salvation,  the  greatness  of  nations  must  be  sought  in  the  com- 
bined action  of  holiness  and  heroism  ;  and  if  heroism  perishes,  holi- 
ness must  perish  too.  What  depth  of  meaning  there  is  in  the  grand 
Greek  saying,  that  war  is  the  father  of  all  things  !  How  the  point 
and  pith  of  that  saying  mock  the  idolatry  of  comfort,  which  is  the 
only  religion  of  the  present  generation  !  Religion  of  a  higher,  a  di- 
viner kind  has  wholly  lost  its  empire,  and  has  dwindled  into  a  draw- 
ing-room entertainment,  diversified  by  a  subscription  to  a  local 
charity.  The  Church  of  England  has  immense  social  power,  but  not 
one  feeblest  throb  of  spiritual  vitality  ;  and  the  dissenting  sects 
waste  their  small  remaining  stock  of  strength  on  crotchets  and  cants. 
Romanism  alone  has  the  feeling  and  the  idea  of  what  religion  should 
be,  though,  instead  of  marching  valiantly  and  working  fruitfully  as 
in  the  Middle  Ages  it  marched  and  worked,  it  cravenly  seeks  refuge 
in  obscurantism  as  a  stronghold.  The  significance  of  conflict  in  the 
economy  of  the  universe  men  must  again  see  if  again  they  are  them- 
selves to  be  holy  and  heroic. 

A  man  of  eminent  genius  discoursed  eloquently  on  hero  wor- 
ship, and  spent  much  of  his  time  in  denouncing  shams.  But  no  one 
was  ever  made  more  heroic  by  his  eloquence,  more  honest  by  his 
denunciations.  The  splendid  pictorial  phrases  of  the  illustrious 
writer  were  fervently  admired  and  speedily  forgotten.  In  truth,  if 
we  adore  heroes,  the  less  disposition  have  we  to  be  ourselves  heroic, 
for  we  are  led  to  contrast  their  bravery  and  achievements  with  our 
own  feebleness.  In  echoing  also  him  who  anathematises  shams, 
what  shams  we  ourselves  inevitably  become  !  No,  heroism  must  be 
inspiration,  discipline,  action  ;  and,  to  vanquish  semblances,  we 
must  ourselves  be  realities. 


AGNOSTICISM.  35 

But  when  we  behold  all  around  us  moral  lassitude,  moral  as- 
thenia, moral  Aftspannung,  how  are  we  to  heal  our  own  moral  atony? 
How  are  we  to  grow  resolute  and  bold  in  the  midst  of  such  tragical 
moral  declension?  Even  our  very  despairs,  however,  may  be  mirac- 
ulous springs  of  vigor  and  courage,  for  they  may  lead  us  to  count 
our  own  life  as  nothing,  and  enable  us,  in  sublime  self-annihilation, 
to  do  marvellous  deeds.  But  the  force  of  will  must  be  equal  to  the 
loftiness  of  the  ideal,  and  the  fire  of  the  enthusiasm,  otherwise 
meagre  enough,  must  be  the  result.  And  meagre  enough  it  may  be 
after  even  our  most  strenuous  efforts,  for  the  time  of  the  world's  re- 
demption may  not  yet  be  come. 

We  are  not,  however,  sent  by  the  supernal  powers  to  be  he- 
roes, saints,  martyrs,  prophets,  but  men.  Only  when  we  are  hin- 
dered, only  because  we  are  obstructed,  in  our  free,  spontaneous 
career  are  we  compelled  to  be,  and  are  we  justified  in  being,  re- 
deemers of  our  race.  Novalis,  a  profound  thinker,  but  often  more 
subtle  than  profound,  has  said  that  we  are  on  a  mission — are  called 
to  the  culture  of  the  earth.  But  it  is  as  absurd  to  talk  of  natural 
duties  as  of  natural  rights,  about  which  Socialists  make  such  a  fuss. 
Both  natural  duties  and  natural  rights  are  figments.  All  that  is  re- 
quired of  man  is  to  be  man  :  in  order  to  be  man,  he  must  be  in- 
domitably valiant  ;  and  thus  the  English  manliness  corresponds  to 
the  Latin  virtus  and  the  Greek  andreia.  From  courage  idealised 
flow  all  human  goodness  and  all  human  greatness.  Civilisation  has 
worth,  and  brings  blessing  just  so  far  as  it  idealises  courage.  This 
the  Greeks  at  their  noblest  time  and  the  Romans  in  their  best  days 
clearly  saw.  And  the  doctrine  had  a  sublime  vindication  both  in 
the  principles  and  the  practices  of  the  Stoics.  Idealised  manliness 
is  idealised  order  and  idealised  freedom.  For  the  individual  who  is 
armed  with  true  manliness  seeks  freedom  only  as  the  condition  or 
preliminary  of  order. 

When  does  the  mystery  of  the  Invisible  begin  to  overwhelm  his 
soul?  From  the  first  moment  of  his  existence.  The  child  brings 
into  the  world  the  plenitude  of  the  inner  infinite,  to  which  all  knowl- 
edge and  all  feeling  can  never  be  more  than  correspondences.  It 
is  only  by  slow  degrees  that  the  child  can  seize  the  finite :  for  a 


36  THE   MONIST. 

long  time  external  things  are  to  the  inner  infinite  nothing  but  vague- 
ness. The  fundamental  fallacy  misleading  and  vitiating  all  philo- 
sophical speculation  is  the  belief  that  sense  is  the  primary  apoca- 
lypse to  poor  mortals.  But  sense  merely  seizes  something  analogous 
to,  or  symbolical  of,  what  already  exists  in  the  heart — existed  there, 
indeed,  even  when  the  child  was  in  the  mother's  womb.  Hence 
education  ought  exclusively  to  be  the  cultivation  of  the  instinctive 
element,  which,  however,  is  always  disregarded,  because  it  is  in- 
variably confounded  with  brutal  appetite. 

But  if  the  inner  infinite,  disclosing  and  unfolding  itself  through 
the  instinctive  element,  is  more  than  the  chief  part  of  the  individ- 
ual, is  verily  the  individual  himself,  must  not  the  animating  principle 
of  universal  nature  be  recognised  as  wholly  an  instinctive  energy? 
Without  doubt.  But  what  is  lost  by  the  admission  ?  Yea,  in  sooth, 
is  not  much  gained  ?  When  God  is  depicted  as  an  Omniscient 
Being,  as  an  Omnipotent  Creator,  as  Supreme  Reason,  as  a  Loving 
Father,  we  are  driven  to  ask  why  there  are  so  many  miseries  and 
monstrosities,  why  the  history  of  the  world  is  nothing  but  a  chron- 
icle of  cruelty  and  crime.  It  is  the  Ideologists,  the  scribblers  of 
Theodicaeas,  who  are  the  real  Atheists,  not  the  Panontists — not 
they  who  frankly  and  gladly  avow  that  there  is  a  God,  but  deny  that 
there  is  any  proof  of  omniscience,  of  omnipotence,  of  reason,  of  love, 
in  the  sense  in  which  these  words  are  by  theologians  accepted. 

You  say  that  to  speak  thus  is  blasphemy  ;  but  the  charge  of 
blasphemy  is  so  often  and  so  easily  brought  that  small  heed  must 
be  given  to  it.  It  is  gross  presumption  in  man  to  attempt  the  vin- 
dication of  God's  ways  :  it  is  wiser  and  better  to  ascertain  what  those 
ways  are,  and  to  walk  in  them  so  far  as  our  strength  permits.  Com- 
pared with  the  inner  infinite  and  the  God  there  and  the  outward  in- 
finite and  the  God  there,  how  worthless  are  human  traditions  !  Yet 
what  but  human  traditions  are  all  theologies?  They  are,  therefere, 
interesting  no  further  than  they  harmonise  with  our  spiritual  aspira- 
tions and  needs.  What  is  good  in  them  we  appropriate  and  assim- 
ilate ;  what  we  deem  bad  in  them  we  reject,  without,  however,  blam- 
ing our  neighbor  for  taking  as  spiritual  nutriment  that  which  we 
condemn. 


AGNOSTICISM.  37 

In  a  country  where,  according  to  the  French  jest,  there  are  a 
hundred  religions  and  only  one  sauce,  what  a  wearisome  and  profit- 
less task  it  would  be  to  assail  that  which  is  intellectually  absurd  in 
those  hundred  religions!  If  in  ignorance,  stupidity,  bigotry  they 
impede  our  march  to  perfection,  we  thrust  them  aside  without  cere- 
mony :  that  is  all.  Woe  to  him  who  is  dominated  by  the  prosely- 
tising temper  !  His  craze  irritates  the  whole  host  of  other  crazes, 
and  intensifies  the  contagion  and  the  curse  of  religious  lunacy.  A 
fresh  convert  is  an  additional  lunatic.  When,  in  defiance  of  his- 
torical testimony,  multitudes  can  be  fascinated  by  the  crass  notion 
that  the  English  are  descended  from  the  ten  tribes  of  Israel,  what 
hope  can  there  be  of  the  emancipation  of  the  whole  people  from 
theological  thraldom  ? 

Life  creates  life,  and  a  divine  life  is  the  only  infallible  evangel  : 
the  heroic  achievements  of  the  divine  life  are  the  only  fecund  ideas. 
Suppose  that  the  entire  past  were  to  be  effaced  from  human  memory, 
we  should  still  stand  in  the  presence  of  the  universe,  and  be  ready 
for  new  and  noble  action  ;  and  from  our  deeds  would  spring  thoughts 
which  themselves  would  be  deeds.  It  is  from  this  grander  Gnosti- 
cism, not  from  a  rickety  and  ranting  Agnosticism,  that  earth  must 
seek  moral  impulse  and  moral  sustenance.  Doubtless  are  widely 
spread  in  the  world,  and  especially  in  the  English  world,  the  gross- 
est delusions.  It  is  not  these,  however,  which  discourage  the  earnest 
reformer,  but  the  indifference,  the  apathy,  the  coarse  materialism, 
the  tyranny  of  fashion  and  custom,  the  insatiable  selfishness,  the 
unscrupulous  avarice,  the  social  hollowness,  the  conscious — and, 
still  worse,  the  unconscious — hypocrisy. 

Every  earnest  reformer  in  a  country  whose  political  might  and 
commercial  expansion  contrast  with  its  moral  degradation,  and,  what 
is  sadder  far,  its  moral  debility,  labors  and  combats  as  a  soldier  in 
a  forlorn  hope.  He  is  at  last  driven  to  feel  that  his  silence  may  be 
more  potent  than  his  speech,  and  that  he  can  best  be  a  reformer  by 
ceasing  to  take  the  reformer's  attitude,  and  by  being  as  natural  as 
the  bird  in  its  song  and  flight  and  as  the  flower  in  its  bloom. 

It  is  the  easiest,  and  yet  the  hardest,  of  all  things  to  be  per- 
fectly natural ;  and  this  is  the  earnest  reformer's  perplexity.  What 


38  THE   MONIST. 

he  has  chiefly  to  aim  at  is  not  to  learn,  but  to  unlearn  ;  and,  when 
unlearning,  he  may  wander  into  the  region  of  eccentricity.  The 
earnest  reformer  may  become  eccentric  in  the  effort  to  shun  eccen- 
tricity, and  paradoxical  in  the  endeavor  to  eschew  paradox.  To  be 
a  man,  a  natural  man,  he  must  be  once  more  a  child.  We  might 
almost  say,  with  a  divine  teacher  who  was  a  son  of  the  people,  that 
he  must  be  born  again.  After  being  born  again,  after  living  for  the 
second  time  a,  childlike  life,  he  can  live  anew  a  manlike  life,  but 
with  more  effulgence  and  plentitude  than  of  old. 

There  is  a  cant  in  these ,  days  about  solving  problems.  With 
solving  problems  the  earnest  reformer,  in  his  regenerate  existence, 
has  nothing  to  do.  In  the  universe  there  are  no  problems  to  be 
solved.  But  from  the  great  deep  of  the  immensities  there  are  afflu- 
ences evermore,  and  it  is  by  bathing  in  these  that  the  earnest  re- 
former wins  new  life  for  himself  and  his  brethren. 

We  are  compelled  to  regard  the  earnest  reformer  as  the  most 
victorious  refutation  of  the  Agnostics  and  their  pretentious  and  pre- 
posterous gospel.  It  was  said  of  Malebranche  that,  while  he  pre- 
tended to  see,  in  accordance  with  his  system,  all  things  in  God, 
curiously  enough  he  did  not  see  that  he  himself  was  mad.  And,  as 
becometh  sciolists,  the  Agnostics  mistake  skepsis  with  an  eta  for 
skepsis  with  an  epsilon.  There  are  many  besides  the  Agnostics  who 
make  the  like  blunder.  As  a  timid,  trimming,  twaddling,  negation- 
ism,  as  a  deification  of  the  privative  alpha,  can  Agnosticism  honestly 
demand  from  us  any  serious  consideration? 

Over  and  over  again  in  the  world's  history  the  only  argument 
against  sophistry  has  been  moral  revolt,  though  often  this  moral  re- 
volt has  been  limited  to  the  solitary  voice  of  the  prophet.  Even  for 
the  most  fervent  prophet,  however,  the  most  earnest  moral  reformer, 
battling  with  Agnosticism,  can  seldom  be  more  than  a  skiamachia, 
a  fighting  in  the  shade,  a  fighting  with  shadows. 

Positivism,  as  its  very  name  implies,  has  positive  principles. 
The  originality,  as  well  as  the  verity,  of  these  has  been  questioned 
by  Saisset  and  others.  But  they  offer  points  of  assault :  we  have 
something  to  assail,  and  we  know  what  we  are  assailing.  With  the 
privative  alpha  of  Agnosticism,  however,  how  can  we  grapple? 


AGNOSTICISM.  39 

When  the  tiny  cherubim,  with  wings  and  head,  but  no  body, 
were  asked  to  take  a  seat,  they  replied  that  they  had  no  wherewith. 
Now,  it  is  the  lack  of  a  wherewith  which  makes  Agnosticism  invul- 
nerable. We  cannot  smite  its  head,  for  it  has  none  ;  we  cannot 
seize  its  wings,  for  it  has  none  ;  we  cannot  kick  a  more  solid  part, 
for  it  has  none.  Our  good  friend,  therefore,  the  prophet — the  earn- 
est reformer — has  a  tough  job  of  it  when  striving  to  vanquish,  by 
sheer  moral  eminence,  beautiful  moral  effulgence,  the  dreary  drivel- 
lers who  glorify  themselves  with  the  name  of  Agnostics,  though  Ag- 
noetists  would  be  a  more  suitable  designation. 

Yet,  though  they  knew  it  not,  the  instinctive  element  seems  to 
have  inspired  them  in  the  choice  of  a  name  for  their  supreme  cretin- 
ism. The  Greek  verb  Agnoeo  means  to  be  ignorant  of,  not  to  notice 
or  to  know.  Agnoema  means  error,  ^.gitoia  means  ignorance.  Ag- 
nosia has  the  same  meaning.  Agnomoneo  means  to  be  ungrateful, 
to  be  or  to  act  without  sense  or  consideration.  The  second  part  of 
this  definition  is  explicit  enough  ;  by  the  first  we  learn  that  Agnos- 
ticism steals  ideas,  but  does  all  it  can  to  conceal  the  theft.  Ag- 
nomonos  means  foolishly  ;  Agnomosune,  ignorance,  inhumanity,  un- 
skilfulness,  imprudence,  perverseness.  He  who  is  Agnomon  is  not 
merely  without  judgment,  unjust,  but  possibly  without  the  teeth, 
Gnomones,  by  which  the  age  of  animals  is  ascertained.  But  the  Ag- 
nostic, though  destitute  of  the  teeth  of  wisdom,  may  deem  the 
tongue  of  unwisdom  a  compensation.  To  the  Greek  Agnostos  the 
Latin  Ignotus  corresponds.  Both  words  mean  ignorant  as  well  as 
unknown. 

But,  gentlemen,  if  you  know  nothing,  why  should  you  worry 
and  weary  us  by  your  idiotic  cackling  ?  Newton  and  other  great 
men  have,  in  beautiful  modesty,  made  light  of  the  knowledge  which 
they  have  gained  by  the  toil  and  the  thought  of  long  years.  You, 
the  Agnostics,  obstreperously  declare  that  you  know  nothing,  yet 
talk  and  act  as  if  you  knew  everything.  If  you  had  the  faintest  per- 
ception of  the  comical,  you  could  not  fail  to  see  that  the  man  who 
says  that  nothing  can  be  known,  and  yet  parades  his  own  omni- 
science, is  only  fit  to  figure  in"  a  comedy. 

Agnosticism  is  saved  from  being  the  most  contemptible  of  frauds 


4.0  THE   MONIST. 

by  being  the  most  ridiculous  of  farces.  And  it  is  not  the  less  both 
a  farce  and  a  fraud  because  some  men  of  undoubted  scientific  ability 
have  given  it  their  countenance.  They  have  been  induced  to  do  so 
chiefly  from  the  desire  of  tripping  up  Orthodoxy,  instead  of  smiting 
it  frankly  in  the  face.  Besides,  Orthodoxy,  so  far  as  it  meddles  with 
science,  is  itself  a  species  of  Agnosticism  :  the  less  it  is  acquainted 
with  science  and  scientific  evidence,  the  more  authoritatively,  orac- 
ularly it  speaks  on  scientific  subjects.  This  also  has  its  comic  aspect. 
When  a  famous,  but  eternally  blundering,  statesman,  not  satisfied 
with  ruining  his  country,  went  back  to  the  dawn  of  creation  to  show 
of  what  impudent  feats,  of  what  silly  freaks,  his  sophistry,  sciolism, 
arrogance  combined  could  be  guilty,  the  more  there  was  the  pre- 
tence of  instruction  and  edification  the  more  the  laughter  of  the  be- 
holder abounded.  But  the  famous  statesman,  lacking  humor  and 
blinded  by  self-idolatry,  was  at  a  loss  to  discover  what  the  essence 
of  the  joke  was.  It  is  an  axiom  of  Orthodoxy  that  the  less  a  man 
knows  the  more  competent  he  is  to  pronounce  on  points  of  evidence 
and  faith.  Thus  a  great  scholar  like  Gesenius,  who  devotes  his 
whole  time  to  the  Oriental  languages,  and  especially  Hebrew,  is  not 
worth  listening  to  when  he  tells  us  when  and  in  what  circumstances 
the  various  books  of  the  Old  Testament  were  written  :  the  only  man 
deserving  heed  is  the  young  Anglican  curate  who  is  ignorant  of  He- 
brew, and  whose  chief  training  has  been  in  the  cricket-field  ! 

Agnosticism  could  not  have  been  accepted  in  science  unless  it 
had  been  already  accepted  in  theology.  Bruno  Bauer,  in  his  valiant 
book  on  "Christ  and  the  Caesars,"  has  demonstrated  that  what  are 
deemed  conflicting  currents  are  really  portions  of  one  mighty  stream, 
and  that  Roman  Stoicism  and  Apostolical  Christianity  had  essen- 
tially the  same  aims.  And,  as  if  destined  to  be  not  enemies,  but 
cooperators,  Jesus  and  Seneca  were  in  the  strictest  sense  contempo- 
raries, Seneca  having  been  born  in  the  second  year  of  the  first  Chris- 
tian century.  We  find  that  in  every  age  there  is  one  primordial 
oceanic  rush.  The  leading  characteristic  of  the  eighteenth  century 
was  Illuminism.  At  the  close  of  the  century  the  light  grew  lurid 
and  broke  into  maddest  lightnings.  Except  in  regard  to  its  Illumi- 
nism, never  can  the  eighteenth  century  be  properly  studied.  All 


AGNOSTICISM.  41 

were  Illuminists  :  the  Freemasons,  the  members  of  secret  societies, 
the  founders  of  sects,  the  Encyclopaedists,  the  charlatans  so  numerous, 
the  scoffing  Deists,  the  rabid  Atheists.  John  Wesley  was  an  Illumi- 
nist  no  less  than  Cagliostro,  Voltaire  no  less  than  Swedenborg,  who, 
absurdly  enough,  has  by  Emerson  and  others  been  called  a  mystic, 
whereas,  as  a  visionary,  he  was  the  strenuous  foe  of  mysticism. 
Illuminists  were  the  cynical  Frederick  of  Prussia  and  the  filthy 
Catherine  of  Russia.  Its  Illuminism  was,  in  the  main,  generously 
placed  at  the  service  of  humanity  ;  and  ever  should  humanity  be 
grateful  for  the  aspirations  and  achievements  of  the  greatly  decried 
and  greatly  misrepresented  eighteenth  century.  Everything  was 
thorough  and  vast  in  the  eighteenth  century,  its  crime  and  its  black- 
guardism not  excepted.  Fearless  was  falsehood,  and  fearless  was 
also  the  hostility  to  falsehood. 

'  As  if  exhausted  by  the  Napoleonic  wars,  the  nineteenth  century 
has  had  no  life  apart  from  science  and  its  colossal  and  manifold  and 
miraculous  applications.  But  the  impulse  to  scientific  development 
has  come  from  the  pressure  of  mechanical  necessity,  whereas  the 
Illuminism  of  the  eighteenth  century  sprang  from  the  instinctive 
element.  It  is  the  absence  of  this  instinctive  element  that  marks 
the  nineteenth  century,  which  might  fitly  be  named  the  century  of 
Externalism.  But  it  is  the  language  of  Internalism  which  Exter- 
nalism  deems  it  befitting  to  employ ;  hence  boundless  confusion  in 
action  and  in  speech,  and  hence  the  stamp  of  mediocrity  on  every- 
thing. 

The  true,  the  divine  community  is  a  congregation  of  instinctive 
individualities.  But  these  exist  not  ;  therefore,  the  true,  the  divine 
community  is  a  thing  of  the  future,  or,  perchance,  simply  an  unrealisa- 
ble  dream.  In  these  days  the  only  art  which  has  been  perfected  is 
the  art  of  association.  Not,  however,  by  the  elevation,  but  by  the 
annihilation,  of  the  individual  has  the  perfection  been  gained — the 
sluggish,  slavish  surrender  of  the  individual  to  a  gregarious  tendency. 
A  Socialist  sect  is  founded  and  a  joint  stock  company  is  formed 
from  the  same  motives  and  in  the  same  manner.  One  of  the  most 
lucrative  occupations  is  that  of  a  conspirator,  and,  so  far  from  in- 
volving any  danger,  it  is  the  surest  and  swiftest  road  to  influence 


4-2  THE    MON1ST. 

and  fame.  The  conspirator  enters  as  calmly  on  his  work  as  if  he 
were  taking  a  share  in  a  cooperative  store.  A  nice,  genteel  pro- 
fession is  that  of  a  conspirator  ;  and,  even  if  his  schemes  fail,  how 
must  the  vanity  of  a  conspirator  be  gratified  by  seeing  a  prime  min- 
ister crawling  at  his  feet !  If  the  trade  of  a  conspirator  does  not  suit 
you,  try  your  hand  as  the  leader  of  a  strike.  As  effectually  as  a 
conspiracy,  a  strike  effaces,  slays  the  individual,  and  exalts,  deifies 
Externalism.  From  the  time  when  Robert  Owen  first  proclaimed 
his  doctrines,  cooperation  has  marched  with  gigantic  steps,  but 
alwrays  in  the  direction  of  anarchy.  In  pleading  zealously  for  co- 
operation and  possessing  himself  in  a  high  degree  the  genius  of 
organisation,  Owen  contended  no  less  earnestly  for  the  doctrine  of 
circumstances — that  is  to  say,  for  fatalism  in  its  very  worst  form  ; 
forasmuch  as  man,  so  far  from  being  the  creature,  is  the  creator  of 
circumstances.  As  cooperation  has  gained  sway,  just  in  tjie  same 
measure  has  fatalism  extended,  and  from  fatalism  hath  come  an- 
archy, and  from  anarchy  hath  come  death.  Anarchies  neutralise 
anarchies,  and  the  neutralisation  is  called  government. 

Religion  should  here  be  the  main  vitalising  and  harmonious 
force  ;  but  it  was  with  religion  itself  that  the  anarchy  began.  The 
anarchy,  however,  religion  strove  to  conceal  by  multiplying  coopera- 
tive agencies.  The  more  also  the  fables  of  theology  were  thrown  to 
the  lumber  of  the  past,  the  readier  theology  was  with  new  fictions  and 
new  phrases.  When  religion  has  degenerated  into  the  tradition  of 
a  tradition,  it  is  bewildered  what  to  do  to  prolong  its  empire.  As 
the  forerunner  of  Agnosticism,  the  religion  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury said  that  we  must  admit  mysteries,  but  not  regard  them  as  in- 
trinsically unreasonable.  As,  however,  the  mysteries  of  theology 
are  traditional  mysteries,  they  are  not  properly  mysteries.  Mys- 
tery is  that  only  which  presents  itself  spontaneously  to  the  inner- 
most soul  of  the  individual.  And  every  man's  mysteries  are  incom- 
municable to  every  other  man.  If  it  is  foolish  to  talk  of  traditional 
mysteries,  it  is  fatuous  to  speak  of  natural  law  in  the  spiritual  world. 
There  is  no  law  in  nature ;  and  the  slang  about  law  in  nature  is  on 
a  level  with  certain  doctrines  and  sayings  of  the  mediaeval  school- 
men that  have  long  been  discarded.  The  crazes  and  phrases  of  the 


AGNOSTICISM.  43 

mediaeval  schoolmen  went  far  in  the  direction  of  bathos;  but  they 
are  preferable  to  the  crazes  and  phrases  of  theological  and  scientific 
Agnosticism  in  our  own  day.  When  we  listen,  for  example,  to  dis- 
course about  the  survival  of  the  fittest,  we  ask  whether  this  means 
anything  except  that  what  has  survived  has  survived.  For,  other- 
wise, it  is  exactly  the  unfittest  things  which  survive  ;  the  noblest, 
most  beautiful  things  which  perish: 

At  the  close  of  a  Panontistic  homily,  or  Panontistic  rhapsody, 
or  whatsoever  the  reader  may  choose  to  call  it,  we  leave  the  reader 
to  draw  his  own  deductions,  make  his  own  applications.  What  the 
reader  might  deem  the  protest,  the  proclamation  of  a  solitary  man, 
is  really  the  confession  of  a  life's  experiences.  It  is  questionable 
whether  literature  in  these  days,  unless  it  takes  the  shape  of  con- 
fession, has  any  value.  The  confession  of  a  man  who  from  his 
earliest  years,  from  his  very  earliest  remembrances,  has  gone  deeper 
and  deeper  into  the  inner  infinite  of  his  own  breast,  and  who  has 
nothing  to  offer  but  the  treasures  gathered  in  his  interior  journeys, 
may  lead  some  lonely  brother  to  make  the  life  within  the  divine  life 
for  himself  and  a  redeeming  power  for  others.  Recently  Theosophy 
and  Mysticism  have  found  exponents ;  but  in  the  exposition  it  is 
always  assumed  that,  if  any  progress  is  to  be  made  in  the  mystical 
life,  Jacob  Boehme  and  many  kindred  writers  must  be  diligently 
consulted,  assiduously  studied.  It  is  our  ambition  to  show  a  better 
way.  Far  less  is  it  our  desire  to  make  war  on  Agnosticism  than  to 
lead  earnest  and  devout  souls  to  a  realm  remote  from  sects  and  sys- 
tems— the  realm  of  sweetest,  most  sacred  feeling,  and  of  richest 
phantasy;  the  realm  of  ecstatic  instinct,  in  which  he  whom  we  call 
God  himself  dwells. 

WILLIAM  MACCALL. 


AUTOMATISM  AND  SPONTANEITY. 

TN  the  mediaeval  world  man's  longing  for  close  communion  with 
^  the  powers  that  underlie  creation  was  readily  satisfied.  His 
terrestrial  dwelling-place  with  its  starlit  vault  he  believed  to  be  the 
universe  ;  and  himself,  as  immortal  soul,  the  supreme  concern  of 
God  and  the  Devil,  of  all  the  hosts  of  heaven  and  all  the  imps  of 
hell. 

What  humiliating  shock  to  this  fondly  nurtured  self-importance, 
when — at  last  convinced  by  science — modern  man  found  himself 
standing  amid  infinity  on  the  thin  crust  of  an  inferior  orb,  whirling 
at  a  tremendous  speed  round  and  round  one  of  the  myriad  suns  that 
people  unlimited  space. 

Worse  still,  he  had  to  learn  that  all  the  wondrous  happenings 
of  nature,  hitherto  attributed  to  the  volitional  fiat  of  creating  agents, 
and  held  to  be  taking  place  solely  for  his  own  sake,  were  in  reality 
the  rigorously  necessitated  outcome  of  mechanical  laws  that  had 
been  in  operation  since  the  beginning  of  things. 

Under  such  mechanical  dispensation,  extending  into  abysmal 
space  and  over  ages  upon  ages  of  time,  what  then  was  he,  diminu- 
tive earthling,  with  his  little  span  of  life? 

As  corporeal  being  the  constituent  particles  of  his  organism 
were  thus  fated  to  obey  the  same  undeviating  laws  that  govern  the 
figurations  and  motions  of  inorganic  bodies.  And  this  necessarily 
implies,  that  all  vital  activities,  so-called  voluntary  movements  in- 
cluded, result — beyond  his  volitional  control— from  the  strictly  de- 
termined play  of  mechanical  impact. 

As  a  percipient  being  he  was  merely  passively  mirroring  what 


AUTOMATISM   AND   SPONTANEITY.  45 

in  reality  was  occurring  outside  of  him  on  this  planet  or  in  the 
boundless  universe.  Mind  and  body,  he  was  but  a  tuneful  instru- 
ment constructed  and  played  upon  by  external  powers. 

And  though  Leibnitz,  whose  teachings  gained  the  ascendancy 
in  some  quarters,  conceived  the  percipient  soul  as  an  entelechy  or 
self-acting  entity,  yet  as  such  it  was  likewise  only  reproducing  within 
itself  in  a  representative  way  either  innate  ideas,  or  the  orderly 
events  of  an  independent  outside  world. 

Despite  a  life  of  growing  experience,  filled  with  thrilling  emo- 
tions, self-determined  volitions,  and  vaunted  deeds,  we  were  shown 
in  the  light  of  science  to  be  only  so  many  conscious  automata,  only 
marvellously  intricate  appendages  to  nature's  all-comprehending 
mechanism. 

It  is  true,  under  the  sway  of  the  mechanical  philosophy,  and 
mainly  in  reaction  against  its  materialistic  tendencies,  our  sensations 
were  proved  to  be  the  veritable  elements  out  of  which  the  world  we 
perceive  is  actually  formed.  And  it  is  now  commonplace  of  phi- 
losophy, that  what  we  call  the  sweetness  of  a  thing  is  only  the  qual- 
ity of  sweetness  belonging  to  our  own  sensation  ;  and  what  we  call 
the  thing  itself  only  a  compound  of  our  own  visual  and  tactile  im- 
pressions. 

Berkeley,  as  we  all  know,  on  the  strength  of  such  reasoning, 
and  to  the  inexhaustible  merriment  of  his  contemporaries,  denied 
altogether  the  existence  of  an  outside  material  universe.  For  if  the 
world  we  actually  perceive  is  out  and  out  composed  of  mental  ele 
ments,  what  need  of  another  second  world  materially  subsisting  be- 
yond such  perception?  Consequently,  according  to  this  view,  per- 
cepts are  the  only  constituents  of  the  world,  and  its  so-called  objects 
are  mental  phenomena  and  nothing  else. 

Yet,  even  then,  these  percepts  of  ours,  constituting  a  world  of 
purely  ideal  consistency,  were  not  believed  to  be  products  of  our 
own  making,  but  only  flashed  upon  our  mind  by  a  corresponding 
volitional  fiat  of  the  Deity.  Man,  consisting  thus  simply  of  a  per- 
cipient mind,  soul,  or  spirit,  was  here  again  only  passively  and  rep- 
resentatively mirroring  that  which  was  being  fashioned  and  actuated 
outside  and  independently  of  himself. 


4.6  THE   MONIST. 

In  the  light  of  Berkeley's  idealistic  interpretation,  man  has  to 
be  conceived  as  a  mere  receptive  tabula  rasa  \  as  a  kind  of  potential 
camera  obscura  ;  in  fact,  as  an  invisible  perceiver,  whose  visible 
embodiment  is  being  continually  composed  of  divinely  emanated 
ideas,  and  who  is  disporting  himself  in  a  perceptual  world  composed 
of  the  same  immaterial  stuff. 

It  has  been  asserted  by  eminent  authorities  that  Berkeley's  rea- 
soning is  flawless.  But  is  it  not  a  sufficient  reductio  ad  absurdum 
when  such  reasoning  necessarily  leads  to  the  conclusion,  that  our 
persistent  seeming  body  consists  in  reality  of  divine  ideas  flashed  in 
fitful  gleams  upon  our  percipient  mind,  and  belonging  therewith  no 
more  intimately  to  ourselves,  than  to  any  other  being  who  may  like- 
wise happen  to  perceive  it? 

This  wildly  speculative  conception  would  seem  to  unsophisti- 
cated minds  all  too  fantastic  to  be  seriously  entertained.  But  as 
thoroughgoing  Idealists  do  not  shrink  from  accepting  even  this  ex- 
travagant outcome  of  their  theory,  the  exact  flaw  in  Berkeley's,  as 
indeed  in  all  purely  idealistic  reasoning,  shall  be  definitely  pointed 
out  in  the  course  of  this  discussion. 

The  sensation-philosophy,  this  psychological  counterpart  of  the 
mechanical  theory,  with  its  pseudo-mechanical  grouping  of  sensorial 
elements,  consistently  and  unflinchingly  expounded  by  Hume, 
stranded  him  inextricably,  and  to  the  great  scandal  of  an  illogical 
world,  amid  a  matterless,  soulless,  godless,  meaningless  phantas- 
magoria of  nothing  but  actual  and  remembered  sensations. 

No  wonder  that,  under  such  complete  ratiocinative  volatilisa- 
tion of  our  inner  and  outer  being,  and  of  everything  besides,  fervent 
souls  were  more*  than  ever  driven  to  seek  communion  with  the  per- 
petual powers  through  the  ancient  channels  of  direct  emotional 
blending  or  of  intuitive  apperception. 

Science,  however,  overrules  mere  emotional  or  intuitive  yearn- 
ing. With  its  logically  consistent  interpretation  of  carefully  verified 
facts  it  carries  intellectual  conviction  to  all  willing  and  capable  of 
following  the  light  of  reason  in  its  application  to  natural  phenomena. 
Stimulated  by  the  marvellous  progress  made  in  the  interpretation  of 
such  phenomena  under  the  sway  of  the  mechanical  theory,  science 


AUTOMATISM  AND  SPONTANEITY.  47 

has  been   persistently  striving   to  extend   its   mechanical  dominion 
over  all  natural  occurrences  whatever. 

The  truth,  that  is,  the  full  objective  validity,  of  the  mechanical 
theory  once  admitted,  sound  logical  reasoning  feels  irresistibly  com- 
pelled to  look  upon  the  course  of  nature  in  its  entirety  and  in  its 
minutest  particulars  as  inexorably  foreordained.  Such  course  is 
then  unalterably  resulting  from  the  primordial  cast,  from  the  initial 
positions  and  velocities  of  the  elements  that  are  obeying  the  mechan- 
ical laws.  Or,  otherwise  expressed,  all  formations  and  activities  in 
nature  are  then,  and  have  ever  been,  the  product  of  a  definite  amount 
of  indestructible  mechanical  energy  at  work  among  the  definite- 
number  of  inert  and  indestructible  elements  that  compose  the  sub- 
stance of  the  things  of  this  world,  our  own  body  among  the  rest. 

All  consciousness,  all  our  sensations,  thoughts,  emotions,  and 
volitions  have,  consequently,  to  be  considered  as  a  mere  ineffective 
by-play  to  this  purely  mechanical  actuation. 

In  vain  do  our  philosophers  seek  to  avoid  this  unavoidable  con- 
clusion. If  the  mechanical  theory  is — as  generally  scientifically  be- 
lieved— a  correct  interpretation  of  the  actual  state  of  things,  then, 
inevitably,  we  ourselves  are  but  conscious  automata,  with  no  power 
whatever  to  influence  the  course  of  nature,  our  own  movements  not 
excepted.* 


*  That  out-and-out  Automatism  is  the  final  verdict  of  a  consistent  interpreta- 
tion, in  accordance  with  our  present  mechanical  science,  has  again  and  again  been 
conceded  by  foremost  scientific  thinkers,  from  Descartes,  Leibnitz,  and  Huygens  to 
DuBois-Reymond,  Helmholtz,  and  Wundt.  Quite  recently  Haeckel,  in  The  Monist, 
(Vol.  II,  No.  4,  p.  484),  does  not  hesitate  to  declare  :  "The  so-called  'freedom  of 
the  will '  is  apparent  only  as  each  single  volitional  action  is  determined  by  a  chain 
of  precedent  actions,  which  ultimately  rest  either  upon  heredity  (propagation)  or 
upon  adaptation  (nutrition).  As  these  last  are  ('mechanically')  reducible  to  molec- 
ular motions,  the  same  holds  true  of  the  former." 

More  explicitly  still  :  "  The  general  science  of  nature  assumes  that  in  the  whole 
world  the  same  great,  unitary,  uninterrupted,  and  eternal  course  of  development 
takes  place,  and  that  all  natural  phenomena  without  exception,  from  the  motion  of 
heavenly  bodies  and  the  fall  of  a  rolling  stone  to  the  growth  of  plants  and  the  con- 
sciousness of  man,  are  governed  by  one  and  the  same  great  Law  of  Causation  ; — 
and  that  all  are  ultimately  reducible  to  atomic  mechanics."  (IVissenschaft  uu.i 
freies  Leben.) 

That  even  "the  consciousness  of  man"  is  reducible  to  atomic  mechanics,  is 
more  than  most  believers  in  the  mechanical  theory  would  admit.  Haeckel,  how- 


48  THE   MONIST. 

If,  on  the  other  hand,  we  are — as  we  all  practically  believe — 
capable  of  directing  our  movements  at  will,  and  of  thereby  influ- 
encing the  course  of  nature,  then,  most  certainly,  the  mechanical 
theory  is  not  a  correct  interpretation  of  the  actual  state  of  things. 

There  is  no  escape  from  this  alternative.  It  has  been  the  great 
standing  dilemma  ever  since  Gassendi  revived  the  atomic  theory  and 
Descartes  enunciated  thereupon  his  dualistic  world-conception : 
within  us  a  mind  filled  with  ideal  phenomena  ;  outside  of  us  a  realm 
of  mechanically  actuated  matter ;  and  no  rationally  conceivable  in- 
teraction between  the  two. 

Our  own  scientific  thinkers  are  far,  as  yet,  from  having  reached 
a  sound  monistic  solution  of  this  central  problem.  In  fact,  Du  Bois- 
Reymond,  with  a  full  understanding  of  the  import  of  mechanical 
necessity  and  a  belief  in  its  validity,  has  pronounced  it  insoluble. 
Professor  Huxley,  as  a  consistent  scientist,  is  driven  to  admit  that 

ever,  does  not  take  the  consciousness  of  man  to  be  altogether  an  outcome  of  mechan- 
ical motion.  Indeed,  in  his  view  it  is  hard  to  discover  any  connexion  whatever 
between  consciousness  and  atomic  mechanics.  For  he  endows  the  mechanically 
moved  atoms  or  molecules  with  mental  qualities.  And  this  involves  among  other 
incongruities  an  utmost  Dualism  in  nature.  In  fact,  the  same  irreconcilable  Dual- 
ism that  has  confronted  thinkers  since  Descartes's  time  :  Two  parallel-running 
worlds,  the  one  material,  the  other  mental,  and  no  possible  efficient  interaction  be- 
tween the  two. 

To  call  this  thoroughly  dualistic  conception,  nevertheless,  "  Monism,"  simply 
because  no  supernatural  agencies  are  invoked,  is  surely  to  mistake  its  essential 
philosophical  character  When  Haeckel,  moreover,  declares  that  he  regards  all 
matter  not  merely  as  "  besouled,  that  is  to  say,  endowed  with  feeling,"  but  endowed 
also  "with  motion,  or,  better,  with  the  power  of  motion,"  he  fundamentally  upsets 
the  entire  mechanical  world-conception  he  professes  to  uphold.  For  it  is  of  the 
essence  of  the  mechanical  view  that  all  motion  be  imparted  from  outside  to  inert 
matter.  As  Leibnitz  already  knew  :  in  the  mechanical  order  "  un  corps  n'est  ja- 
mais  /nil  naturellenient  que  par  un  a  litre  corps  qui  le  pressd  en  It'  touchant."  Any- 
thing endowed  with  intrinsic  power  of  motion  would  antagonise  the  mechanical 
order  by  introducing  into  it  an  incalculable,  newly  and  spontaneously  arising  amount 
of  energy. 

Besides,  by  identifying  "mind"  with  "force,"  by  taking  mind,  as  well  as  mo- 
tion, to  be  a  force-emanation,  Haeckel' s  Principles  of  a  Consistent  Unitary  World- 
View  lead  to  further  confusion.  Mental  states,  as  such,  are  utterly  forceless, 
wholly  devoid  of  mechanical  momentum,  and  cannot,  therefore,  be  a  manifestation 
of  force.  They  do  not  enter  into  the  concatenation  of  mechanical  activities.  They 
are  incapable  of  moving  matter.  They  have  no  place  in  the  mechanical  theory. 

These  remarks  are  advanced  to  show  what  profound  inconsistencies  have  yet 
to  be  cleared  away  in  order  to  arrive  at  a  "  consistent  unitary  world-view." 


AUTOMATISM  AND  SPONTANEITY.  49 

the  conscious-automaton- theory  is  indeed  the  necessary  outcome 
of  the  mechanical  view.  As  a  philosopher  >  however,  he  reso- 
lutely shakes  off  the  mechanical  shackles  and  alights  by  means  of  a 
miraculous  salto  mortale  a  full-fledged  Idealist  into  the  opposite  do- 
main of  inwardness.  And  Mr.  Spencer,  with  his  wonted  many- 
sidedness,  essays  in  vain  sundry  contradictory  modes  of  overcoming 
this  same  dilemma.* 

We  desire  to  find  explained,  how  in  a  world  in  which  all  change 
of  position  is  held  to  be  the  strictly  conditioned  outcome  of  pre- 
viously disposed  and  externally  acting  forces  ; — how  in  such  a  world 
it  is  possible  for  us  to  direct  our  movements  by  dint  of  intrinsically 
originated  volition,  becoming  thereby  enabled  purposively  to  in- 
fluence the  otherwise  rigorously  necessitated  course  of  a  nature  not 
forming  part  of  our  own  being. 

In  the  presence  of  the  multifarious  results  of  our  nature-influ- 
encing capacity,  it  is  nothing  short  of  scientific  fanaticism  to  pro- 
fess disbelief  in  this  power  of  ours  over  nature.  For  the  sake  of 


*  If  Mr.  Spencer's  reasoning  were  throughout  logically  consistent,  instead  of 
eclectically  latitudinarian,  it  would  compel  him,  as  well  as  Professor  Huxley,  to 
accept  without  compromise  the  mechanical  view.  The  material  universe  with  its 
"physical  modes  of  force"  preceded  in  the  course  of  evolution  its  mental  realisa- 
tion. Mr.  Spencer  admits  that  the  mechanical  interpretation  is  the  correct  inter- 
pretation of  physical  phenomena.  And  with  an  adequate  understanding  of  its-im- 
plications he  further  admits  that  matter  itself  is  inert,  and  that  its  ultimate  units 
are  devoid  of  any  qualitative  distinctions.  All  qualitative  distinctions  in  nature 
must,  consequently,  be  due  to  mere  difference  of  arrangement.  Mr.  Spencer  him- 
self asserts  :  ' '  The  properties  of  the  different  elements  result  from  differences  of 
arrangement,  arising  by  the  composition  and  recomposition  of  ultimate  homogeneous 
units."  This  is,  as  Mr.  'Fiske  emphatically  corroborates,  the  Spencerian  view  of 
material  phenomena,  when  these  many-sided  savants  are  speaking  from  the  side  of 
the  physicist.  And  it  is  undoubtedly  the  mechanically  correct  view. 

Wundt,  in  his  Theory  of  Matter,  emphasises  likewise  the  same  well-founded 
mechanical  principles.  He  says  :  "  The  entire  development  of  physical  atomism 
points  to  the  derivation  of  all  qualitative  properties  of  matter  from  the  forms  of 
motion  assumed  by  the  atoms.  The  atoms  themselves  are  thus  necessarily  com- 
pletely devoid  of  quality." 

Inert,  absolutely  rigid,  qualitatively  and  quantitatively  undistinguishable  ele- 
ments, driven  into  sundry  changeful  arrangements  by  externally  impelled  modes  of 
motion  ;  this,  and  no  other,  is  the  veritable  mechanical  world-material.  And 
thinkers  who  accept  the  mechanical  theory  are  logically  debarred  from  the  dr\uv 
of  endowing  their  atoms  with  any  sort  of  qualitative  property,  or  with  any  in-dwell- 
ing "  power  of  motion." 


50  THE  MONIST. 

intellectual  integrity  it  will  be  well  to  keep  this  most  essential  phil- 
osophical problem  clearly  in  sight  until  rationally  solved. 

The  thought  of  the  eighteenth  century — swayed  partly  by  me- 
chanical materialism,  partly  by  the  sensation-philosophy,  or  in  Ger- 
many by  the  Leibnitz-Wolffian  compromise — was  in  all  its  phases 
essentially  fatalistic,  making  of  man  an  utterly  powerless  vehicle  or 
plaything  of  strictly  predetermined  conditions. 

Those  among  us,  whose  philosophising  is  running  riot  in  the 
sphere  of  unimpeded  idealistic  licence,  or  who  amid  an  overwhelm- 
ing flood  of  contradictory  philosophical  opinions  have  lost  the  moral 
hold  on  logical  consistency,  can  hardly  imagine  how  helplessly  fet- 
tered human  consciousness  felt  by  those  rigid  automatic  theories  of 
existence.  Under  such  paralysing  influences  the  transcendental 
idealism  of  Kant,  however  soberly  guarded  it  may  now  appear  to 
us,  was  hailed  as  an  awakening  from  a  profound  lethargic  slumber, 
as  a  joyous  deliverance  from  the  mechanical  and  dogmatic  incubus 
that  had  so  long  oppressed  human  self-confidence.* 

Kant  convincingly  taught  that  we  are  not  merely  perceptive 
mirrors,  passively  reflecting  the  marvels  of  an  outside  nature.  But 
that,  by  dint  of  formative  and  constructive  powers  inherent  in  our 
own  being,  we  ourselves  fashion  out  of  incoherent,  sense-given  data 
the  entire  world  we  are  conscious  of.  And  he  taught,  moreover, 
that,  however  much  we  may  bodily  and  mentally  be  involved  in  the 
purely  mechanical  course  of  nature,  our  innermost  being  possesses, 
notwithstanding,  the  power  of  freely  bending  this  otherwise  rigor- 
ously necessitated  course  in  conformity  with  the  dictates  of  our 
moral  ideal. 

Ethical  freedom,  manifesting  itself  in  intrinsic  spontaneity  of 
action — held  however  to  be  derived  from  a  supernatural  source — is 
what  constitutes  the  central  principle  of  the  Kantian  philosophy. 

*  This  is  what,  among  many  other  kindred  expressions  from  contemporaries, 
the  celebrated  physician  and  philosopher  Erhard  has  to  say  about  the  impression 
made  upon  him  at  the  time  by  Kant's  teaching  :  "  Reading  his  works  I  shed  tears  of 
utmost  joy.  They  made  me  realise  myself  as  a  rational  being.  I  am  who  I  am.  No 
other  person  keeps  control  of  my  duties,  or  can  do  my  thinking  for  me.  The  world 
I  perceive  is  the  problem  for  my  knowledge  ;  my  inner  feeling  of  freedom  alone  the 
judge  of  my  worth.  And  this  I  owe  to  thee,  my  master,  my  spiritual  father." 


AUTOMATISM  AND  SPONTANEITY.  51 

And  it  is  the  principle  that  has  mainly  inspired  the  speculative  sys- 
tems which  since  that  time  have  followed  one  another  in  such  pro- 
fuse succession. 

It  is  this  same  nature-transcending  principle  of  intellectual  and 
ethical  spontaneity,  admitting  on  its  inward  side  to  close  communion 
with  a  supreme  Intelligence,  and  on  its  outward  side  empowering 

human  beings  rationally  to  transform  the  sense-apparent  world  ; 

it  is  this  same  principle  of  spiritual  freedom  that  with  its  thought- 
woven  mirage  is  delusively  alluring  to  the  desert  wastes  of  pure 
Idealism  our  numerous  Neo-Kantians  and  Neo-Hegelians,  our 
Transcendentalists  and  Theosophists. 

It  may  be  now  fully  admitted,  without  fear  of  serious  contra- 
diction, that  whatever  we  are  conscious  of  must,  as  such,  necessa- 
rily be  wholly  a  product  of  powers  inherent  in  ourselves,  and  can 
by  no  means  be  a  passively  mirrored  image  of  something  existing 
outside  of  us. 

Percepts  arise  in  us  in  a  compulsory  manner.  We  generally 
attribute  their  origin  to  the  things  or  objects  we  perceive  as  exist- 
ing outside  of  us.  But  it  is  clear  that  the  things  or  objects  we  are 
thus  actually  perceiving  are  products  of  our  own  perceptive  faculty, 
are  indeed  the  percepts  themselves,  and,  as  such,  constituents  of 
our  own  consciousness.  Such  percepts  can  therefore  not  possibly 
be — as  generally  believed — products,  effects,  or  copies  of  the  things 
or  objects  perceived  ;  for  they  are  themselves  these  very  things  or 
objects  perceived. 

The  entire  wealth  of  our  conscious  world  is  wealth  inherent  in 
ourselves,  constituting  thus — as  may  be  in  a  certain  sense  admitted 
— a  gradually  accruing  self-revelation  of  that  inmost  nature  of  ours, 
which  abides  beyond  the  play  of  conscious  states. 

We  have  no  immediate  knowledge  of  this  innermost  being. 
That  which  we  are  immediately  cognisant  of  is  the  product  of  its 
activity,  the  outcome  of  its  shaping  faculty,  a  becoming  conscious 
of  so  much  of  its  present  manifestations. 

In  this  light,  all  things  or  objects  dissolve  into  fluent  products 
of  unremitting  activity.  And  if  the  things  or  objects  we  thus  per- 
ceive are — as  maintained  by  Idealism — the  real  things  or  objects  of 


52  THE  MONIST. 

this  world,  then  things  or  objects  have  no  substantial,  self-contained 
existence,  but  are  altogether  rainbow-like  phenomena,  produced 
and  sustained  from  moment  to  moment. 

It  is  incontestable  that  we  are  immediately  conscious  of  nothing 
but  a  succession  of  most  complex,  ever-changing,  ever-dwindling 
mental  states,  arising  from  the  depths  of  our  hidden  nature.  Or,  if 
pure  phenomenalism  deems  it  an  as  yet  unwarranted  assumption  to 
assert  that  the  conscious  phantasmagoria  arises  from  our  own  hid- 
den nature,  we  are  left  with  nothing  for  philosophical  contempla- 
tion but  the  conscious  content  itself,  or  that  which  is  directly  re- 
vealed as  conscious  phenomenon. 

The  correct  analysis,  the  rational  interpretation  of  this  con- 
scious content  will  yield  the  true  world-conception.  All  divergence 
of  philosophical  opinion  is  due  to  divergence  in  the  interpretation 
of  this  single  fact  of  world-awareness,  of  that,  namely,  which  is 
consciously  present.  Into  conscious  presence  is  re-collected  all  past 
experience,  is  re-membered  the  totality  of  world-realisation. 

The  ever-changing  conscious  content  reveals  itself  as  the  pro- 
duct of  some  kind  of  activity.    And  as,  on  account  of  its  evanescent, 
ever-renewed  existence,  it  cannot  be  conceived  as  self-actuated  and . 
self-created,  it  has  to  be  conceived  as  an  outcome  of  the  activity  of 
some  agency  not  forming  part  of  its  own  transient  states. 

Kant  assumed  that  the  producing  agent  of  the  conscious  dis- 
play is  intelligence.  And  it  is  this  purely  idealistic  position  that 
has  been  so  vigorously  defended  by  Fichte  and  Hegel,  and  by  their 
followers  to  the  present  day.  According  to  this  view,  intelligence, 
and  intelligence  alone,  is  the  creator  of  all  world-phenomena,  such 
phenomena  having  their  existence  solely  in  the  conscious  activity 
of  this  intelligence. 

Kant,  it  is  true,  had  taken  for  granted  the  existence  of  a  world 
of  things-in-themselves,  affecting  our  sensibility,  and  filling  it  with 
the  material  made  use  of  by  intelligence  in  its  world-construction. 
But  it  is  clear  that  nothing  can  possibly  enter  the  conscious  content 
from  an  outer  world.  Its  sensorial  and  perceptual,  as  well  as  its 
conceptual  phenomena,  are  all  in  all  constructed  by  whatever  pro- 
duces and  sustains  it  from  within.  Therefore,  if  intelligence  is 


AUTOMATISM   AND  SPONTANEITY.  53 

really  the  producer  and  sustainer,  then  intelligence  is  the  only  ef- 
ficient power  in  world-construction,  and  the  assumption  of  a  realm 
of  things-in-themselves  is  wholly  gratuitous. 

From  the  idealistic  standpoint  it  is  a  mere  delusion  to  believe 
that  our  senses  are  affected  by  anything  existing  outside  the  con- 
scious content  ;  for  in  verity  there  is  no  outside  to  it.  All  that  con- 
sciously takes  place  in  the  world  has  its  being  in  one  and  the  same 
conscious  content.  This  statement,  when  its  meaning  is  fully  real- 
ised, is  indeed  self-evident,  admitting  of  no  appeal. 

But  here  the  contrast  involved  in  the  idealistic  view  and  in  that 
of  common  sense,  as  seemingly  revealed  by  perception,  becomes 
strikingly  apparent.  Our  individual  being  is  generally  held  to  be 
contained  in  what  we  call  our  body.  And,  moreover,  it  appears 
pretty  evident  that  our  entire  consciousness  is  in  some  way  an  out- 
come of  the  activity  of  that  particular  part  of  the  body  we  call  our 
brain. 

Now,  when  our  body  is  consciously  realised  it  often  forms  only 
a  circumscribed  and  minute  part  of  the  entire  world  then  consciously 
present.  For  instance,  I  at  present  perceive  my  body  as  a  minute 
object  within  a  vast  landscape,  consisting  of  a  multiplicity  of  ob- 
jects, and  among  them  beings  like  myself.  If  the  idealistic  view  is 
correct,  if  the  percepts  themselves  are  the  reat  existents  of  this 
world,  then  our  body — usually  believed  to  be  the  bearer  of  the  entire 
conscious  content — forms,  in  fact,  only  an  insignificant  part  of  it. 
Consequently,  instead  of  the  conscious  content  originating  within  us 
individually,  we,  on  the  contrary,  originate  body  and  mind  within 
the  conscious  content  ; — indeed,  originate  therein  only  as  a  com- 
paratively insignificant  part  of  it.  It  would  follow  therefrom  that 
the  conscious  world  we  realise  is  the  product  of  powers  not  forming 
part  of  ourselves.  For  our  body,  being  only  a  circumscribed  phe- 
nomenon among  many  others  in  the  conscious  content,  this  all-con- 
taining conscious  content  cannot  possibly  be  a  product  of  this  or 
any  other  part  of  itself. 

For  the  same  reason,  the  conscious  content,  idealistically  con- 
ceived, can  neither  be  individual  self-realisation,  as  Fichte  had 
maintained,  nor  can  it  be  an  auto-cosmos,  as  the  hylo-idealists  will 


54  THE  MONIST. 

have  it.  In  fact,  no  sort  of  Solipsism  is  admittible  under  the  ideal- 
istic assertion,  that  the  conscious  content  is  self-significant  reality. 
The  legitimate  outcome  of  the  idealistic  position  is  objective  Phe- 
nomenism. 

The  idealistic  view  in  one  form  or  another  has  got  such  firm 
hold  on  many  of  our  foremost  thinkers  that  it  is  by  no  means  a 
waste  of  words  to  point  out  its  unavoidable  implications. 

The  conscious  content,  of  which  we  ourselves  bodily  and  men- 
tally, together  with  all  other  things  of  this  world,  are  integrant  parts, 
arises  as  a  fluent  phenomenon  interruptedly  and  in  fragments.  It 
emanates  as  an  ever-renewed,  transient  creation  from  a  hidden 
matrix.  This  evident  fact  has  led  eminent  thinkers,  like  Plotinus, 
Boehme,  Spinoza,  Schelling,  and  others,  to  declare  that  the  source 
of  existence  is  in  its  inmost  nature  unconscious.* 

The  phenomena  of  consciousness  arise  from  a  matrix  not  itself 
revealed  in  the  conscious  content  among  its  constituent  parts  or 
states.  Kant's  " intelligible  ego,"  which,  as  he  maintains,  never 
becomes  an  object  either  for  the  inner  or  for  the  outer  sense,  is  an 
acknowledgment  on  his  part  of  the  existence  of  such  an  unconscious, 
or  rather  imperceivable,  matrix.  '  "Intelligence"  or  "Reason"  are 
clearly  only  generic  names  given  to  the  conscious  activity  of  this  hid- 
den matrix.  But  such  activity  is  not  itself  the  matrix,  as  our  Neo- 
Kantians  and  Neo-Hegelians  are  anxious  to  establish,  in  order — as 
Professor  Caird  asserts — to  assimilate  "man  as  spiritual  with  an 
absolute  spirit." 

Philosophy  has  thrown  as  yet  no  genuine,  steadfast  light  on 
this  obscure  problem.  Thus  far  we  cannot  say  that  the  analysis  of 
the  conscious  content  has  revealed  the  nature  of  the  matrix  whence 
it  emanates.  For  it  emanates  just  as  little  from  any  peculiar  group- 
ing of  mechanically  driven  material  particles,  as  from  a  purely  spir- 
itual activity. 


*  "The  eternally  Unconscious — that  which  constitutes  the  eternal  sun  in  the 
realm  of  spirits  is  hidden  by  its  own  exceeding  light ;  and  though  it  never  itself  be- 
comes an  object,  yet  impresses  its  identity  on  all  free  actions  ; — this  eternally  Un- 
conscious is  at  the  same  time  the  same  for  all  Intelligences,  the  invisible  root  of 
which  all  Intelligences  are  mere  factors."  Schelling  (Werke,  Ab.  /,  B.  j>,  S.  600). 


AUTOMATISM  AND  SPONTANEITY.  55 

Let  us,  then,  once  more  attempt  to  discover  given  data,  that  may 
help  us  to  more  positive  conclusions  concerning  this  inmost  nature 
of  our  being.  Such  critical  examination  may  perhaps  at  the  same 
time  enable  us  to  overcome  to  some  extent  the  central  dilemma  of 
matter  and  spirit,  of  automatism  and  spontaneity,  of  mechanical 
necessity  and  non-mechanical  or  so-called  free  causation. 

No  thinker,  save  an  absolute  Solipsist,  will  deny  the  existence 
of  beings  like  himself.  We  have,  however,  seen  why  the  solipsistic 
standpoint  is  logically  untenable.  There  is,  therefore,  logically 
nothing  to  debar  us  from  admitting  the  existence  of  beings  like  our- 
selves. We  ask,  then,  how  do  we,  and  the  Idealist  among  us,  get 
to  realise  such  existence?  The  latter  cannot  rightly  maintain  that 
he  realises,  for  instance,  the  existence  of  his  friend,  as  a  purely  ideal 
existence.  He  has  absolutely  no  direct  knowledge  of  the  ideal  na- 
ture of  his  friend.  He  is  not  in  the  least  directly  cognisant  of  his 
friend's  sensations,  thoughts,  emotions,  and  volitions.  These  form 
in  no  way  part  of  his  own  conscious  content.  What  he  is  directly 
cognisant  of,  is  the  percept  he  calls  the  body  of  his  friend.  And  it 
is  solely  by  dint  of  perceptual  or  bodily  signs  that  he  indirectly  in- 
fers that  his  friend  is  also  a  conscious  being  like  himself. 

It  is  undeniable,  then,  that  his  friend's  ideal  nature  has  no 
power  whatever  to  affect  the  Idealist's  perceptibility,  so  as  to  make 
itself  directly  known  to  him.  It  is  incontestable,  on  the  other  hand, 
that  his  friend's  non-ideal,  non-conscious  self  has  power  to  affect  his 
perceptibility  in  most  specific  and  distinct  ways,  so  as  to  become 
directly  known  to  him  as  the  group  of  definite  percepts  he  calls  his 
friend's  body. 

Let  us  keep  clearly  in  mind  that  nothing  mental  has  power  to 
affect  the  perceptibility  of  beholders,  and  that  what  is  called  our 
body  is  only  a  group  of  percepts  in  the  conscious  content  of  such 
beholders.  It  follows  that  our  veritable  self,  the  hidden  matrix 
whence  our  consciousness  arises,  is  of  a  nature  altogether  differing 
from  anything  manifest  as  mental  or  material.  It  cannot  be  like 
any  of  the  mental  phenomena  casually  found  in  our  conscious  con- 
tent, not  even  like  reasoning,  or  willing,  or  any  activity  we  are  di- 
rectly conscious -of.  Neither  can  it  be  like  the  group  of  percepts 


56  THE   MONIST. 

arising  in  the  consciousness  of  him  who  perceives  us,  and  which  we 
call  our  body.  It  is  consequently  neither  of  the  nature  of  mind  nor 
of  that  of  body. 

It  is,  however,  unmistakably,  an  existent  that  has  power  to 
arouse  distinct  perceptual  realisations  of  itself  in  the  consciousness 
of  beholders.  And  it  is  an  existent  that  is  also  the  'bearer  of  its  own 
conscious  content.  It  therefore  has  a  nature  incommensurably 
transcending  in  efficiency  and  import  the  group  of  percepts  we  call 
our  body,  as  well  as  the  group  of  other  conscious  states  we  more 
particularly  call  our  mind. 

Should  the  interpretation  here  given,  despite  its  denial  of  the 
substantial  existence  of  matter  as  a  perceived  entity,  be  nevertheless 
decried  as  "materialistic,"  there  will  be  no  objection  raised  to  the 
use  of  this  much-maligned  term.  The  view  here  advocated  is,  in- 
deed, essentially  materialistic.  Only  matter  must  then  be  defined 
as  that  which  affects  our  sensibility,  awakening  thereby  definite  per- 
cepts in  our  conscious  content.  And  the  usual  mistake  of  looking 
upon  the  awakened  percepts  themselves  as  material  objects  must  be 
avoided.  For  these  are  mere  transient  symbolical  representations 
of  the  actual  power-emanating  existents.  As  such  they  form  mar- 
vellously distinct  and  specific,  yet  wholly  inadequate  mental  pictures. 
Looking  at  a  brain,  for  example,  how  can  the  transient  percept  mo- 
mentarily awakened  in  our  consciousness,  and  consisting  of  nothing 
but  differently  colored  surfaces,  how  can  such  a  mere  symbolical 
picture  adequately  represent  the  real  existent,  which  science  proves 
to  have  been  most  toilsomely  elaborated  during  untold  ages,  and 
which  contains  all  the  gathered  results  of  such  elaboration? 

And,  as  regards  the  functional  activity  of  this  highest  achieve- 
ment of  material  elaboration,  how  can  its  true  import  be  at  all  real- 
ised merely  by  means  of  molecular  agitation  perceptible  within  its 
mental  image?  We  know,  however,  that  this  same  activity,  which 
manifests  itself  to  an  outside  observer  as  mere  molecular  agitation 
within  his  own  percept,  means  incommensurably  more  to  him  whose 
brain  is  thus  functionally  active.  Through  such  functional  activity 
his  world-revealing  conscious  content  emanates  from  the  inscrutable 
depths  of  his  all-comprising  being. 


AUTOMATISM   AND  SPONTANEITY.  57 

This  being,  though  not  itself  of  the  nature  of  mental  or  con- 
scious states,  has  such  states  as  a  functional  outcome  of  some  of  its 
specific  activities  ;  and  though  not  itself  of  the  nature  of  perceived 
matter,  has  power  to  awaken  material  percepts  by  affecting  in  spe- 
cific ways  the  sensibility  of  beholders. 

The  realistic  implications  involved  in  this  unmistakable  state 
of  things  are  almost  universally  shunned  and  dreaded.  But  are  not 
the  true  facts  of  existence  more  profoundly  marvellous  than  any 
fanciful  conception  of  ours? 

Our  transient  and  forceless  conscious  content  being  but  a  func- 
tional outcome  of  the  activity — not  of  what  is  perceptually  known 
as  our  body  and  its  brain — but  of  that  hidden  self  of  ours  which 
awakens  these  definite  percepts  in  beholders  ;  it  follows  that  this 
hidden  self  is  more  fundamental,  permanent  and  essential  than  any 
of  its  own  mental  states,  or  any  set  of  percepts  it  may  awaken  in 
beholders. 

In  the  light  of  what  has  been  stated,  it  will  not  be  difficult  to 
realise,  that,  when  I  move  my  arm  I  cannot  rightly  say  that  the 
mental  state  I  am  conscious  of  as  my  volition  has  moved  my  arm. 
Nor  can  I  say  that  the  percept  in  him  who  witnesses  the  perform- 
ance, and  which  he  calls  my  body,  has  moved  my  arm.  Both  these 
modes  of  realisation:  my  own  inner  consciousness  of  the  act,  and 
the  beholder's  outer  consciousness  of  it,  are  but  mental  symbols  of 
the  activity  of  my  veritable  being,  my  being  which  steadfastly  abides 
beyond  all  conscious  realisation. 

Having  thus  but  a  symbolically  inferential  knowledge  of  activity, 
and  but  a  symbolically  inferential  knowledge  of  that  which  is  active, 
it  is  no  wonder  that  the  actuation  of  volitional  movements,  and, 
analogically,  that  of  all  other  motion  in  nature,  is  so  strangely  enig- 
matical. 

That  much,  however,  may  be  clearly  ascertained  ;  namely,  that 
no  kind  of  activity  is  purely  mechanical.  What  Newton  called  vis 
insita  in  contradistinction  to  vis  impressa  plays  a  part  of  its  own,  in- 
deed by  far  the  most  important  part  in  nature. 

The  peculiar  modes  of  reaction,  of  active  resistance  or  intrinsic 
response,  opposed  by  different  kinds  of  matter  to  external  impul- 


58  THE  MONIST. 

sions,  evinces  the  existence  of  specific  indwelling  powers.  And  it 
is  these  powers  that  underlie  the  perceptually  realised  qualitative 
properties  of  material  compounds. 

A  wonderful  amount  of  mathematical  and  physical  ingenuity 
has  been  vainly  expended  by  eminent  scientists  in  order  to  bring 
reactive  modes  of  motion  under  strictly  mechanical  laws.  Elasticity, 
cohesion,  chemical  activity  and  union,  gravitation,  magnetic  phe- 
nomena, muscular  contraction,  one  and  all  have  been  tortured  upon 
the  mechanical  rack  without  yielding  the  secret  of  their  specific 
modes  of  activity. 

To  choose  an  extreme  example  of  non-mechanical  actuation, 
who  can  soberly  contend,  (though  there  have  been  mechanical  en- 
thusiasts that  have  gone  even  that  far,)  that  the  development  of  the 
chick  in  the  egg  is  caused  by  the  heat-motion  imparted  to  it  from 
outside.  Is  not  the  rigorously  preconcerted  rearrangement  of  the 
constituting  material,  which  results  in  the  formation  of  the  chick, 
governed  by  most  specific  affinities  inwoven  in  the  reproductive 
germ  ? 

During  vital  activity  material  elements  are  forced  by  compelling 
influences,  emanating  from  the  functioning  substance  itself,  to  fall 
into  definite  molecular  arrangements.  They  are  not  forced  to  fall 
into  such  arrangements  by  dint  of  motion  imparted  from  without. 
The  functional  agitation  of  the  living  substance  is  therefore  not  of 
the  mechanical  order. 

In  closely  observing  the  functional  activity  of  living  substance 
it  becomes  visibly  and  unmistakably  manifest  that  such  activity  is 
not  of  the  mechanical  order.  It  is  not  caused  by  the  transfer  of 
energy  through  mechanical  impact.  The  constituent  elements  of 
the  functioning  substance  are  not  driven  together  or  asunder  by  ex- 
ternally imparted  impulsion.  What  takes  place  on  stimulation  is, 
first,  a  chemical  rupture,  a  so-called  explosion,  under  which  a 
definite  organic  molecule  is  severed  from  the  original  chemical  total- 
ity of  the  substance  acted  upon.  In  consequence  of  this  encroach- 
ment from  outside  a  reaction  sets  in,  spreading  over  a  more  or  less 
extensive  portion  of  the  living  substance,  and  resulting  in  a  com- 
plete reintegration  of  its  disrupted  chemical  totality.  The  living 


AUTOMATISM  AND  SPONTANEITY.  59 

substance  restores  its  integrity  by  force  of  those  most  specific  chemi- 
cal affinities  through  which  it  is  itself  constituted.  These  enable  it 
to  fill  the  chemical  or  functional  gap  with  complemental  material 
assimilated  from  outside.* 

The  peculiar  chemical  or  molecular  constitution  of  the  living 
substance  is  that  which  distinguishes  it  from  other  substances.  And 
it  is  only  through  strict  maintenance  of  this  most  definitely  specific 
constitution  that  one  kind  of  living  substance  is  distinguished  from 
another.  Their  reproductive  germs,  though  microscopical  and  ap- 
parently all  but  homogeneous,  contain  evidently  already  with  utmost 
faithfulness  the  distinguishing  molecular  traits. 

Science  has  conclusively  proved,  that  such  marvellously  specific 
and  high- wrought  chemical  or  molecular  constitution  is  the  result  of 
endless  elaboration.  How  then  can  the  functional  agitation  of  the 
living  substance  which  aims  at  specific  reintegration  upon  outside 
encroachment  be  of  a  mechanical  nature?  How  can  we  feel  justified 
in  looking  upon  a  molecular  agitation  which  is  directed  with  most 
punctilious  selection  by  specifically  ingrained  chemical  affinities  as 
belonging  to  the  mechanical  order?  Because  we  have  experience 
of  mechanical  modes  of  motion,  or  rather  because  by  excluding  from 
consideration  the  specific  constitution  of  bodies,  and  taking  into  ac- 
count only  their  masses,  we  can  'reduce  the  motions  imparted  to 
them  from  outside  to  mechanical  laws,  it  is  vaguely  hoped  that  these 

*  For  calling  this  vital  reaction  and  more  especially  that  occurring  during  func- 
tional activity  in  the  brain  of  higher  organisms  "hyper-mechanical,"  as  I  have 
done  on  former  occasions,  I  have  been  censured  by  the  Editor.  This  occurred  prob- 
ably under  the  impression  that  I  meant  by  "  hyper-mechanical  "  some  super-natural 
agency  here  at  work,  while  I  only  meant  specific  modes  of  motion  originating  from 
within,  and  transcending  in  efficiency  any  possible  kind  of  mechanical  display.  The 
Editor  himself  is  inclined  to  believe  in  activity  originated  from  within.  Such  ac- 
tivity he  will  surely  not  call  "  mechanical."  For  it  is  of  the  essence  of  mechanical 
activity,  that  the  acting  substance  as  such  be  inert,  and  that  all  activity  be  imparted 
to  it  ab  extra. 

The  arguments  in  this  discussion  do  not  apply  to  physicists  who  employ  a  work- 
ing-hypothesis other  than  the  mechanical.  Such,  for  instance,  as  attribute  to  the 
material  elements  whatever  attracting  or  repelling  energies  their  calculation  re- 
quires. Or  such  as  discard  all  realistic  assumption  of  matter  and  force,  and  confine 
themselves  simply  to  the  perceptual  phenomena  of  interdependent  motions,  or  such 
again  as  adopt  the  vortex-hypothesis,  or  assume  some  kind  or  other  of  ether-con- 
densation, etc.,  etc. 


60  THE  MONIST. 

same  laws  may  be  analogically  applied  even  to  such  molecular  modes 
of  motion  as  are  due  to  those  specific  relations  between  the  consti- 
tuent elements  of  bodies  that  impart  to  them  their  distinguishing 
characteristics. 

Under  the  mechanical  aspect  "  evolution  "  can  mean  only  what 
its  name  literally  implies  ;  namely,  the  necessary  unfolding  of  what 
is  already  potentially  pre-determined  in  the  initial  disposition  of  that 
which  is  being  evolved.  There  is  no  room  here  for  any  accession 
of  power,  for  any  specific  modes  of  energy,  for 'any  genuine  epigen- 
esis,  for  any  creative  play  or  spontaneity  of  action.  Everything  the 
absolutely  fatalistic  outcome  of  mechanically  moved  matter. 

This  mechanical  view  of  things  cancels  inexorably  the  signifi- 
cance and  efficiency  we  so  fondly  attribute  to  that  inner  life  of  ours 
which  we  find  revealed  as  the  most  intimate  manifestation  oi  our 
being.  Our  thoughts,  emotions,  and  volitions  are  then  a  mere  use- 
less, foreign  by-play  to  the  mechanical  evolutions  of  insentient 
matter. 

This  is  the  sorry  predicament  in  which  mechanical  science  seeks 
to  place  our  unitary  being,  this  world-revealing  self  of  ours,  that 
constitutes  in  all  reality  the  memorial  and  epitome  of  the  ceaseless 
travail  of  time-evolved  creation.  To  find  a  scientifically  consistent 
way  out  of  the  entanglements  of  such  a  monstrously  inadequate  in- 
terpretation of  natural  occurrences  should  constitute  the  foremost 
endeavor  of  philosophical  contemplation. 

Our  foundation  has  evidently  to  be  laid  deeper  than  either  what 
is  usually  called  materialism,  or  what  is  called  idealism.  For  ma- 
terialism of  the  atomic  and  mechanical  kind  fails  to  establish  any 
legitimate  interaction  between  bodily  activities  and  the  correspond- 
ing mental  states.  And  it  moreover  fails  to  leave  a  way  open  for 
the  endowment  of  sense-affecting  existents  with  intrinsic  properties 
and  forces,  such  as  give  rise  to  the  specific  qualities  and  spontaneous 
activities  we  perceive.  Idealism  of  the  genuine  kind,  on  the  other 
hand,  is  erected  on  an  essentially  erroneous'pre-supposition,  on  the 
postulate,  namely,  that  mind  as  such  can  affect  mind,  or  rather  that 
the  mental  states  of  one  being  can  enter  into  direct  intercommuni- 
cation with  the  mental  states  of  another  being.  And  it  further  fails 


AUTOMATISM   AND  SPONTANEITY-  6l 

to  afford  any  sort  of  explanation  for  the  sense- derived  percepts  by 
which  that  other  being  is  consciously  realised  ;  realised  thereby 
solely  as  a  bodily  and  not  as  a  mental  or  ideal  existent. 

In  the  course  of  this  discussion  it  has  been  shown  that  the  per- 
ceptual realisation  of  matter  in  motion  does  only  symbolically  and 
remotely  disclose  the  nature  of  that  which  is  seen  to  move,  hiding 
from  view  the  veritable  source  of  the  activity  thus  perceived  as  mo- 
tion. There  has  been  found  ample  reason  to  conclude  that  the  ac- 
tivity displayed  by  living  beings,  and  symbolically  perceived  as 
their  bodily  movements,  is  a  functional  activity  emanating  from  the 
non-mental  nature  of  those  beings  ;  from  that  nature  of  theirs 
namely,  which  has  power  to  arouse  representative  percepts  in  be- 
holders. And  ample  reason  has  further  been  found  to  justify  the 
conclusion,  that  the  molecular  motion  visible  during  such  activity 
in  the  mental  image  or  perceptual  realisation  is  of  a  nature  altogether 
transcending  any  possible  kind  of  mechanical  motion. 

Analogically  we  may  rightly  conclude,  that  all  existents  that 
haye  power  to  awaken  representative  percepts  in  beholders,  and 
this  means  all  perceptible  things  of  this  world,  are  likewise  poten- 
tially endowed  with  specific  modes  of  activity,  of  which  the  phe- 
nomena of  elasticity,  cohesion,  chemical  selection  and  union,  and 
so  on,  are  manifest  displays. 

Nay,  the  very  power  of  arousing  definite  percepts  in  beholders 
is  itself  the  most  striking  proof  of  specific,  never- flagging  activity 
on  the  part  of  the  perceived  existents  ;  an  activity  which  constitutes 
their  very  nature,  and  on  account  of  which  these  sense-stimulating 
existents  may  well  be  called  specific  power-complexes. 

The  incalculable  factor  of  newly  arising  modes  of  specific  activ- 
ity, which  gives  to  "evolution"  its  true  significance,  is  evidently 
introduced  into  nature  by  a  more  or  less  incidentally  occurring  com- 
bination of  material  elements.  These  combinations  acquire  thereby 
as  newly  formed  compounds  also  newly  arising  specific  properties 
of  their  own.  And  this  means  that  they  react  in  new  and  specific 
ways  on  being  influenced  or  acted  upon  by  surrounding  existents. 

Reaction  by  dint  of  specific,  indwelling  efficiency  plays,  as 
already  stated,  a  far  more  important  part  in  nature,  than  causation 


62  THE  MONIST. 

understood  as  an  external  producer  of  effects.  Material  compounds, 
as  they  become  more  and  more  highly  elaborated,  oppose  more  and 
more  specific  modes  of  reaction  to  outside  influences.  And  when 
in  the  living  substance  specific  modes  of  reaction  have  become  func- 
tionally attuned  to  specific  -modes  of  stimulation,  then  that  signifi- 
cant play  of  interaction  between  organism  and  environment  super- 
venes, which  gives  us  rightly  the  impression  of  being  purposive  or 
teleological. 

Considering  what  ceaseless  vital  toil,  what  slowly  moulding  in- 
teraction with  a  specific  environment,  carried  on  unremittingly  dur- 
ing untold  ages,  was  actually  required  to  elaborate  higher  forms  of 
conscious  beings  ;  how  can  we  well  conceive  the  consciousness  of 
these  beings,  thus  gradually  evolved,  and  obviously  only  the  out- 
come of  functional  activity  ;  how  can  we  feel  justified  in  conceiving 
it  as  a  separate  and  finally  independent  entity  ? 

The  activity  of  our  being  which  gives  rise  to  tbe  emergence  of 
an  idea,  say  the  idea  of  some  definite  movement  to  be  executed, 
would  in  an  outside  observer  awaken  the  perception  of  an  infinites- 
imal molecular  stir  originated  in  some  minute  cerebral  structure. 
And  this  molecular  stir  would  be  seen  by  the  observer  to  spread 
along  definite  nerve-tracts  until  it  reached  the  motor  organs  inner- 
vated by  them.  Here  a  voluminous  molecular  agitation  would  be 
incited,  accompanied  by  contraction  of  the  entire  muscular  sub- 
stance. This  motor  function  would  by  the  outside  observer  be  per- 
ceived as  purposive  movement,  while  it  was  being  felt  by  the  per- 
former himself  as  voluntary  activity. 

The  same  activity  incited,  not  by  the  performer's  own  initiative, 
but  by  some  external  influence,  would  not  be  felt  as  voluntary,  but 
merely  realised  as  automatic.  This  kind  of  automatism  would  be, 
however,  by  no  means  of  a  mechanical,  but  strictly  of  an  organic, 
nature.  It  would  be  produced  by  intrinsic  and  specific  modes  of 
activity. 

The  difference  between  voluntary  and  automatic  activity  of  the 
organic  kind  can  be  distinctly  realised  by  watching,  for  example, 
our  breathing  movements.  These  are  generally  carried  on  auto- 
matically and  unconsciously.  By  directing  our  attention  to  them 


AUTOMATISM  AND   SPONTANEITY.  63 

we,  however,  become  conscious  of  the  automatic  activity.  This  is 
a  genuine  instance  of  conscious  automatism  ;  for  there  is  no  effective 
intercommunication  between  the  movements  and  the  awareness  of 
them.  The  activity  that  underlies  the  conscious  state,  and  the 
activity  that  underlies  the  perceived  movements,  are  only  concomi- 
tant and  not  interdependent.  But  we  are,  moreover,  able  to  assume 
voluntary  control  of  the  movements.  We  can,  at  will,  breathe 
quicker  or  slower,  deeper  or  less  deep,  or  entirely  inhibit  the  move- 
ments for  a  time.  The  consciousness  of  this  voluntary  performance 
compared  with  the  consciousness  of  the  mere  automatic  action  will 
clearly  indicate  the  difference  between  spontaneous  and  automatic 
activity.  Here  the  two  activities  have  entered  into  effective  inter- 
communication. The  activity  that  underlies  the  movements  has 
become  dependent  on  the  activity  that  underlies  the  conscious  voli- 
tion. 

The  complete  volitional  control  we  have  over  the  movements  of 
those  muscular  apparatuses  that  minister  to  our  life  of  outside  rela- 
tions constitutes  in  the  executive  department  of  our  being  that  free- 
dom of  activity,  which  enables  us  to  transform  the  given  oppor- 
tunities of  nature  in  compliance  with  our  ideal  purposes. 

We  may,  then,  finally  and  legitimately  conjecture,  that  an  ex- 
istent, which  under  functional  excitation  becomes  conscious,  though 
it  cannot  itself  be  of  the  nature  of  any  of  its  conscious  states,  must 
nevertheless  as  their  all-containing  potential  matrix  be  considered 
as  mentally  endowed  ;  must,  in  fact,  be  the  bearer  of  the  organ  of 
mental  awareness.  And  we  may  further  legitimately  conjecture 
that,  what  by  means  of  inadequate  symbolical  representation  is  re- 
vealed to  perception  as  our  bodily  organisation,  is  in  all  reality  the 
existent  that  under  functional  excitation  of  its  central  organs  be- 
comes conscious. 

The  activity  felt  by  us  as  voluntary  is  in  verity  the  outcome  of 
a  spontaneous  exertion  on  the  part  of  our  symbolically  revealed,  but 
otherwise  hidden  being.  We  hold  spontaneous  sway  over  the  move- 
ments of  the  organs  that  minister  to  our  life  of  outside  relations. 
We  control  the  use  of  our  limbs,  moving  at  will  and  manipulating 
with  purpose  the  existents  of  the  outside  world.  We  voluntarily 


64  THE  MON1ST. 

incite  or  inhibit  the  movements  of  our  sensory  organs,  thereby  fore- 
seeing the  revelations  or  attesting  the  validity  of  our  tactile  impres- 
sions. And  we  intentionally  innervate  the  movements  of  our  vocal 
organs,  communicating  thus  to  our  fellow-beings  the  experience  these 
same  articulated  movements  have  enabled  us  to  rationalise. 

It  is  by  force  of  such  motive  control  that  we  are  free  and  not 
automatic  agents.* 

EDMUND  MONTGOMERY. 


*  After  having  for  years  in  my  deficient  way  urged  the  task  of  scientifically 
overcoming  the  mechanical  or  necessitarian  theory,  in  order  to  arrive  at  a  monistic 
conception  of  our  own  nature  and  the  world  at  large,  it  is  highly  gratifying  to  find 
that  so  eminent  a  scientific  thinker  as  Professor  Peirce  has,  on  entirely  different 
and  far  more  precise  grounds,  reached  the  same  all-important  conclusion. 


THE  NERVOUS  CENTRE  OF  FLIGHT  IN 
COLEOPTERA. 

TS  IT  possible  to  know  the  physiology  of  an  organ,  that  is  to  say, 
*•  its  functions,  signification,  and  purpose,  from  a  simple  study  of 
its  anatomy  ?  Eminent  authors  have  said  no  to  this  question.  Claude 
Bernard,  the  greatest  physiologist  of  the  century,  especially,  has 
contemned  the  assistance  of  anatomy  in  the  understanding  of  the 
phenomena  of  life,  and  his  ideas  are  generally  accepted,  having 
passed  as  authoritative  into  the  standard  works  on  the  subject.  To 
a  great  extent,  this  position  is  the  correct  one.  It  is  incontestable 
that  the  majority  of  physiological  discoveries  have  been  made  by 
physiology.  I  propose,  however,  to  show  that  this  rule  admits  of 
exceptions,  and  that  we  can,  in  certain  circumstances,  where  it  is 
impossible  to  resort  to  vivisection,  apply  the  method  of  comparative 
anatomy  to  the  solution  of  very  nice  problems  of  nervous  physi- 
ology. 

The  philosophical  interest  of  this  method  will  make  ample 
recompense  for  the  dryness  of  details  which  the  study  of  the  ner- 
vous centre  of  flight  in  Coleoptera  presents  ;  for  this  is  the  investiga- 
tion of  which  we  are  now  about  to  give  a  sketch.  We  announced 
some  time  ago  our  intention  to  do  this,  in  an  article  published  in 
Vol.  Ill,  No.  i,  of  The  Monist,  where  we  sought  to  sketch  the  out- 
lines of  the  normal  structure  of  the  ganglion. 

It  will  be  well,  perhaps,  briefly  to  recall  at  the  outset  the  gen- 
eral disposition  of  the  wings  and  the  nervous  system  of  Coleoptera. 
We  know  that  these  insects  possess  two  pairs  of  wings,  which  are 
inserted  in  the  dorsal  face  of  the  thorax.  The  posterior  pair  alone 


66 


THE  MONIST. 


>phngeal  ganglion 


First  thoracic  ganglion 


thoracic  ganglion 


Third  thoracic  ganglion 


First  Abdominal  gangli 


serve  for  flight.  They  are  composed  of  a  fine,  transparent  mem- 
brane, supported  by  delicate  nervures.  The  anterior  wings,  which 

are  called  "elytra,"  are  sheaths  of 
greater  or  less  powers  of  resistance, 
sometimes  speckled  with  bright  colors, 
covering  the  wings  when  at  rest  and 
protecting  them  after  the  manner  of  a 
buckler.  When  the  animal  takes  to 
flight  the  elytra  spread,  so  as  to  permit 
the  membranous  wings  to  unfold. 

Each  of  these  two  organs  is  joined 
by  a  rather  large  nerve  with  the  ner- 
vous system  of  the  insect.  This  ner- 
vous system,  which  is  of  a  quite  com- 
plex character,  is  composed  of  a  brain 
situated  in  the  head,  whence  a  nervous 
ring,  encompassing  the  digestive  tract, 
proceeds.  This  nerve-ring  connects  the 
brain  with  a  chain  of  nerves  that  ex- 
tends beneath  the  digestive  tract  the 
entire  length  of  the  ventral  face  of  the 
insect  and  widens  into  a  series  of  gan- 
glia. This  chain  of  nerves  forms  what 
is  called  the  sub-intestinal  nervous  sys- 
tem. We  may  obtain  some  sort  of  an 
idea  of  this  system  of  organs  by  cast- 
ing a  glance  at  Fig.  i,  which  repre- 
sents the  nervous  system  of  the  larva 
of  a  dipteran. 

The  first  ganglion  of  the  sub-in- 
testinal chain  is  called  the  sub-ceso- 

Fig.  i. — Schematic  longitudinal  sec- 
tion of  the  nervous  system  of  a  larva  of      phagean  ;  it  innervates  the  buccal  parts 

and  is  usually  located  in  the  head  of 

the  animal.  The  second,  third,  and  fourth  ganglia,  in  the  adult  in- 
sect, are  usually  situated  in  the  thorax  ;  they  are  called  the  thoracic 
ganglia.  These  ganglia  send  out  the  nerves  to  the  three  pairs  of 


THE  NERVOUS  CENTRE  OF  FLIGHT  IN  COLEOPTERA. 


67 


feet ;  they  are  consequently  the  locomotor  ganglia.  Next  comes  the 
abdominal  chain  of  ganglia,  which  furnishes  nerves  to  the  cells  of 
the  abdomen  and  to  the  genital  regions. 

At  present,  the  thoracic  ganglia  chiefly  interest  us,  as  these 
furnish  the  nerves  of  the  wings  and  elytra.  These  ganglia  are  three 
in  number.  The  first  is  not  connected  with  the  apparatus  of  flight, 
and,  consequently,  does  not  interest  us  ;  the  second  supplies  the 
nerves  of  the  elytra  ;  and  the  third,  the  nerves  of  the  wings. 


Sub-oesophageal  ganglion 


Nerve  of  first  foot  _ 


Nerve  of  the  elytrum 

Nerve  of  second  foot 

Nerve  of  the  wing 

Nerve  of  the  third  toot 

Abdominal  nerve 


First  thoracic  ganglion 


Second  thoracic  ganglion 


Third  thoracic  ganglion 


Abdominal  ganglia 


Fig.  2. — Schematic  horizontal  section  of  the  sub-intestinal  nervous  system  of  Rhizotrogus. 

The  appended  cut,  which  represents  a  horizontal  section  of  the 
sub-intestinal  nervous  system  of  a  coleopter  (Rhizotrogus},  shows  the 
series  of  ganglia  which  we  have  just  described,  with  the  nerves  that 
proceed  from  it.  It  will  be  noted  that  the  second  and  third  thoracic 
ganglia  give  out,  respectively,  the  nerves  of  the  elytra  and  of  the 
wings. 

This  is  a  synopsis  of  the  knowledge  which  the  dissection  of  an 
insect  with  the  scalpel  furnishes  us  ;  to  obtain  any  knowledge  of 


68 


THE  M  ON  I  ST. 


the  internal  structure  of  a  ganglion,  we  are  obliged  to  resort  to  the 
method  of  sections,  which  consists  in  cutting  up  an  organ  in  slices 
sufficiently  thin  to  allow  of  their  being  studied  in  a  transparent  form 
under  the  microscope.  In  any  section  of  a  ganglion,  taken  in  any 
plane,  it  will  be  seen  by  such  an  examination  that  the  small  mass  of 
nervous  substance  constituting  the  ganglion  is  always  composed  of 
the  two  following  parts :  a  central  part,  of  considerable  size,  com- 
posing three-fourths  of  the  ganglion  and  made  up  of  fibrillar  sub- 


Fibrillar  substance 


Fig.  3- 


stance  ;  and  about  it  a  second  part,  formed  of  nerve-cells,  the  num- 
ber and  size  of  which  vary  with  the  place.  These  cells  give  out 
prolongations,  which  lose  themselves  in  the  fibrillar  substance.  It 
is  a  conclusion  to  which  precise  researches  directly  point,  that  the 


Sensory  nerve 


Fig.  4. 

nerves  which  lead  to  a  ganglion  do  not  end  directly  in  the  cells,  but 
in  the  fibrillar  substance ;  and  similarly  the  axial  prolongations  of 
the  cells  do  not  directly  continue  into  the  nerves,  but  are  also  lost 
in  the  fibrillar  substance.  This  is  schematically  represented  in 
Fig.  3.  It  will  be  at  once  seen  that  this  histological  arrangement 
greatly  differs  from  the  plan  of  the  reflex  arc  (Fig.  4),  which  is  now 
everywhere  described,  but  is  probably  very  inexact.  According  to 
the  plan  usually  given,  the  sensory  nerve  ends  directly  in  the  ner- 
vous cell,  which  reflects  the  excitation  to  the  motor  nerve.  The 


THE  NERVOUS  CENTRE  OF  FLIGHT  IN  COLEOPTERA.         69 

nervous  excitation  follows  a  path  presenting  no  solution  of  continu- 
it3^.  But,  as  a  fact,  in  insects  there  is  a  something  interposed  be- 
tween the  nerve  and  the  nervous  cellule,  and  this  something  is  the 
fibrillar  substance,  which  is  made  up  of  a  skein  of  fibres  so  compli- 
cated in  structure,  that  it  is  hopeless  to  attempt  to  disentangle  it. 
Consequently,  we  are  in  total  ignorance  as  to  whether  a  continuity 
exists  between  the  nerve  and  the  cell,  or  whether  the  excitation  is 
not  otherwise  propagated  between  the  two  points. 

Leaving  aside  this  important  question  of  nervous  histology 
which  is  now  occupying  the  attention  of  a  host  of  observers,  let  us 
follow  the  alary  nerve  into  the  interior  of  the  ganglion  and  see  how 
it  acts  towards  the  organs  which  the  ganglion  contains.  We  shall 
now  be  obliged*,  in  the  interest  of  clearness,  to  say  a  few  words  con- 
cerning the  internal  organisation  of  a  thoracic  ganglion,  but  we  shall 


Crural  nerve 
Ventral  column 

Fig.  5. — Schematic  transverse  section  of  a  thoracic  ganglion  of  an  Insect. 

restrict  ourselves  in  this  to  what  is  absolutely  necessary  to  an  under- 
standing of  the  plan  of  the  alary  nerve,  and  shall  accordingly  repro- 
duce, very  briefly,  the  substance  of  our  preceding  article.  A  thoracic 
ganglion  may  be  regarded  as  made  up  of  the  following  three  distinct 
parts  (in  this  description  we  shall  only  occupy  ourselves  with  the 
fibrillar  substance)  :  a  ventral  lobe,  a  dorsal  lobe,  and,  laterally,  of 
two  crural  lobes.  The  crural  lobes  are  connected  with  the  nerves 
of  the  feet ;  these  we  shall  not  discuss.  A  difference  of  the  dorsal 
and  ventral  lobes  is  seen  at  once  by  a  glance  at  their  fibrillar  sub- 
stances. This  substance  is  quite  tenuous  in  the  dorsal  lobe  ;  while  in 
the  ventral  lobe  it  is  very  dense,  clearly  outlining  a  special  organ  to 
which  we  have  given  the  name  of  ventral  column.  In  Fig.  5,  which 
is  a  transverse  section,  we  see,  at  the  sides,  the  two  crural  lobes 
(marked  /.  cr.\  in  which  the  nerves  of  the  feet  end  ;  higher  up  the 
dorsal  lobe  ;  and,  beneath,  the  ventral  lobe,  which  displays  a  cir- 


7O  THE  MONIST. 

cular  section  of  the  two  ventral  columns.  And  in  the  longitudinal 
section  (Fig.  6),  that  is  to  say,  in  a  section  parallel  to  the  flanks  of 
the  animal,  the  ventral  column  appears  in  its  characteristic  form  of 
a  column  elongated  along  the  ventral  region  of  the  ganglion  ;  and 
above  it  in  the  dorsal  lobe  will  be  seen  the  connective  filaments 
which  traverse  the  ganglion  longitudinally,  and  extend  throughout 
the  whole  subintestinal  nervous  chain.  Finally,  a  horizontal  sec- 


Dorsal  lobe,  traversed  by  dorsal 

connective  fibres 


Ventral  column 


Fig.  6. — Schematic  longitudinal  section  of  a  thoracic  ganglion  of  an  Insect. 

tion,  made  parallel  to  the  ventral  face  of  the  insect,  shows  that  the 
ventral  column  is  double  and  symmetrical.  There  exist,  in  fact, 
two  ventral  columns,  situated  one  on  each  side  of  the  median  line  ; 


Anterior  ventral  commissure 


Ventral  connective  fibres 


Fig.  7. — Schematic  horizontal  section  of  a  thoracic  ganglion  of  an  Insect,  showing  the  two 
ventral  columns. 

and  this  duality  is  evidently  in  some  way  connected  with  the  primi- 
tive duality  of  the  ganglion,  which  is  developed  in  two  distinct  parts 
(Fig.  7)- 

The  path  of  the  alary  nerve  into  the  interior  of  the  ganglion  is 
sufficiently  defined  by  these  details.  This  nerve,  considered  for  ex- 
ample in  the-  cockchafer,  penetrates  the  lateral  regions  of  the  upper 
face  of  the  ganglion  ;  then,  after  having  passed  the  conjunctive 
envelope  of  the  ganglion,  it  emits  its  extremely  slender  first  root 


THE  NERVOUS  CENTRE  OF  FLIGHT  IN  COLEOPTERA. 


which  enters  the  upper  parts  of  the  dorsal  lobe  where  it  is  accom- 
panied throughout  its  entire  course  by  a  great  number  of  trachese, 
amid  which  it  is  scarcely  discernible  ;  this  is  the  upper  dorsal  root  of 
the  alary  nerve.  Then  the  trunk  of  the  nerve  continues  its  oblique 
course  and  descends ;  it  traverses  the  bed  of  nerve-cells  which 
surrounds  in  this  region  the  fibrillar  substance,  and  penetrates  that 
substance.  At  this  point  it  is  subdivided  into  two  roots,  both  much 
larger  than  that  which  we  above  described.  The  first  of  these  roots 


Lower  dorsal  root  of  the 
alary  nerve 

Ventral  column 


'Upper  dorsal  root  of  the 

alary  nerve 


Ventral  root  of  the  alary 
nerve 


Fig.  8. —Schematic  transverse  section  of  a  thoracic  ganglion  of  a  coleopter,  showing  the  three 
roots  of  the  alary  nerve. 

describes  the  small  arc  of  a  circle  curved  concavely  upwards  and 
rises  again  towards  the  dorsal  lobe  of  the  ganglion.  This  is  the 
lower  dorsal  root  of  the  alary  nerve.  The  other  makes  directly  to- 
wards the  ventral  column,  which  is  its  ultimate  destination.  This 


Ventral  root  of 
the  alary 
nerve 


Fig.  9.— Schematic  longitudinal  section  of  a  thoracic  ganglion  of  a  coleopter  showing  two 
roots  of  the  alary  nerve. 

is  the  ventral  root  of  the  alary  nerve.  The  disposition  of  these  three 
roots  is  distinctly  seen  in  a  suitably  taken  transverse  section  like 
that  of  Fig.  8. 

In  some  types  of  Coleoptera,  for  example,  in  the  horn-beetle,  it 
has  been  found  that  the  ventral  root  is  double.  To  determine  the 
course  of  the  lower  dorsal  root,  which  we  have  good  reasons — to  be 
mentioned  later — for  regarding  as  the  characteristic  root  of  the  alary 
nerve,  we  must  follow  its  path  in  an  appropriate  longitudinal  sec- 
tion, i.  e.,  in  one  which  is  slightly  oblique  (Fig.  9).  In  such  a  sec- 


72  THE  MONIST. 

tion  we  find  that  this  root  crosses  the  ganglion  from  the  front  to  the 
rear  and  enters  the  succeeding  ganglion,  which  is  the  third  thoracic 
ganglion.  Here,  all  knowledge  which  microscopic  anatomy  furnishes 
us  concerning  the  roots  of  the  alary  nerve  ceases.  Can  we  go  any 
further,  can  we  learn  anything  concerning  the  function  of  these 
roots  ? 

We  already  possess  some  interesting  facts  concerning  the  physi- 
ology of  the  thoracic  ganglia  of  insects.  These  facts  are  due  to  the 
fine  and  precise  researches  of  Faivre,  a  naturalist  as  eminent  as  he 
is  modest,  who  has,  perhaps,  not  yet  acquired  the  full  reputation 
which  is  his  due.  Faivre  has  long  studied,  with  a  sort  of  predilec- 
tion, the  genus  Dytiscus — the  coleopter  of  marshes  and  swamps,  the 
water-beetle,  which  owing  to  the  facility  with  which  it  may  be  pro- 
cured at  all  seasons,  and  also  owing  to  its  large  size,  seems  almost 
predestined  for  vivisection,  and  may  be  almost  regarded  as  the  frog 
of  the  invertebrates.  Faivre  has  minutely  studied  the  properties  of 
all  the  nervous  ganglia,  of  the  connective  filaments,  of  the  nerves, 
and  even  of  the  stomato-gastric  system  of  this  animal.  He  is  igno- 
rant of  the  internal  structure  of  the  parts  on  which  he  experimented. 
The  method  of  sections  was  not  practised  at  that  period.  He  simply 
connected  the  effect  of  the  irritations,  punctures,  and  experimental 
lesions  which  he  made  with  the  exact  point  that  had  been  injured. 
He  has  traced,  thus,  a  topographical  physiology,  the  precision  of  which 
in  my  judgment  is  admirable,  as  every  time  that  I  have  repeated  his 
experiments  I  have  arrived  at  exactly  the  same  results.  We  shall 
not  speak  here  of  his  researches  on  the  stomato-gastric  system,  nor 
of  those  on  the  brain,  in  which  he  defined  the  boundaries  of  the 
motor  centre  of  the  antennae  at  a  time  when  men  were  still  ignorant 
of  the  existence  of  the  deuto-cerebrum.  We  shall  simply  restrict 
ourselves  to  a  recapitulation  of  the  results  obtained  by  him  in  his 
experiments  on  the  thoracic  ganglia. 

Guided  doubtless  by  the  idea  of  an  analogy  between  the  func- 
tions of  the  sub-intestinal  nerve-ganglia  of  insects  and  the  functions 
of  the  spinal  marrow  of  vertebrates,  Faivre  sought  to  discover 
whether  the  outermost  peripheral  face  of  the  ganglion  of  an  insect 
was  not  endowed  with  especially  sensitive  properties,  and  the  face 


THE  NERVOUS  CENTRE  OF  FLIGHT  IN  COLEOPTERA.          73 

farthest  inwards  with  especially  motory  properties.  We  need  scarcely 
recall  to  the  reader's  attention  the  well-known  fact  that  in  insects, 
viewed  in  the  natural  position  of  locomotion,  the  nervous  system  of 
the  thorax  and  the  abdomen  is  sub-intestinal,  while  in  vertebrates 
•the  nervous  system  is  situated  wholly  above  the  digestive  tract,  and 
that,  consequently,  the  face  of  this  system  which  is  nearest  the 
periphery  of  the  body  is  ventral  in  insects  and  dorsal  in  vertebrates  ; 
in  other  words,  the  development  of  the  nervous  system  which  is 
effected  in  parallel  lines  in  the  two  types  of  animals  at  the  expense 
of  the  ectodermal  layer,  takes  place  for  the  sub-intestinal  ganglia  of 
insects  in  the  ectoderm  of  the  ventral  regions,  and  for  the  vertebrates 
in  the. ectoderm  of  the  dorsal  region.  The  result  of  this  disposition  is, 
that  the  ventral  face  of  the  ganglion  of  an  insect  is  the  homologue  of 
the  dorsal  face  of  the  spinal  marrow;  and  Faivre  has  effectively  shown 
that  these  two  laces  are  possessed  of  the  same  sensitive  properties. 

The  experiments  of  Faivre  bear  especially  on  the  movements  of 
the  feet,  which  are  quite  easy  to  observe,  and  which  are  much  more 
varied  than  the  movements  of  the  wings  or  the  elytra.  The  experi- 
menter first  established  that  the  sensibility  of  a  foot  and  its  powers 
of  motion  can  be  destroyed  separately.  Lesions  or  simple  irrita- 
tions may  be  made,  so  localised  that  the  same  foot  when  excited 
directly  will  remain  at  rest,  but  when  the  irritation  is  made  else- 
where, on  another  foot,  or  on  an  antenna,  or  on  the  pegidium,  will  move 
with  vivacity.  The  interpretation  of  this  case  is  that  the  foot,  not 
responding  to  direct  excitations,  has  lost  its  sensibility,  but  conserved 
its  powers  of  motion.  Conversely,  the , lesions  may  be  so  localised 
that  a  foot  will  remain  absolutely  motionless  and  inert  in  all  cases, 
as  well  during  direct  excitations  of  itself  or  other  feet  as  during 
spontaneous  movements  of  the  animal,  yet  the  localisation  be  such 
that  by  irritating  this  foot  a  motor  effect  is  produced  in  other  parts 
of  the  body.  In  this  case  sensibility  is  preserved  but  the  power  of 
motion  lost. 

It  is  possible,  thus,  notwithstanding  the  opposite  opinion  of  a 
number  of  modern  physiologists,  to  destroy  separately  each  of  the 
two  functions  sensibility  and  motion,  which  are  not  so  indissolubly 
connected  as  is  generally  supposed. 


74  THE  MONIST. 

To  produce  these  two  inverse  effects  Faivre  found,  after  many 
attempts,  a  precise  place  for  the  lesion.  The  best  means  appeared 
to  him  to  be  a  slight  pressure  with  a  flat  lancet  on  one  of  the  faces 
of  the  ganglion.  The  compression  of  the  dorsal  face,  or  a  very  su- 
perficial puncture  of  that  face,  or  the  insertion  of  the  blade  under 
the  perineurium  produces  simple  motor  paralysis  without  anaesthe- 
sia ;  the  compression  of  the  ventral  face  produces  anaesthesia  with- 
out loss  of  the  power  of  motion.  The  last  symptom,  it  seems,  is 
more  difficult  to  provoke,  and  it  is  necessary  to  take  great  pains  in 
not  overdoing  the  compression  if  we  wish  to  obtain  an  anaesthesia 
wholly  free  from  movement.  Let  us  add  that  these  phenomena  of 
paralysis  are  frequently  transitory  and  disappear  in  a  few  hours  ;  but 
their  duration  is  sufficient  to  admit  of  exact  observations,  which  gain 
the  conviction  of  the  experimenter.  We  have  continued  the  experi- 
ments of  Faivre  by  a  new  method,  which  we  shall  not  enter  into 
here,  and  have  found  results  which  are  absolutely  exact. 

We  now  propose  to  show  that  we  can  arrive  at  the  same  con- 
clusion by  comparative  anatomy.  To  discover  whether  this  organ  is 
motory,  and  that  sensory,  we  may  dispense  with  physiological  ex- 
periments and  replace  the  scalpel  by  the  microscope.  Without 
making  a  lesion,  which  destroys  the  natural  disposition  of  the  or- 
gans, we  can,  by  simply  describing  the  microscopic  section,  read  in 
that  section  the  physiological  significance  of  certain  structures.  This 
method  of  comparative  anatomy  goes  much  further,  it  seems  to  me, 
than  that  of  Faivre.  In  the  first  place,  it  is  more  precise,  as  it  re- 
places an  experiment,  that  is  to  say,  a  transitory  phenomenon,  of 
which  soon  afterwards  only  the  memory  is  left,  by  the  observation 
of  a  permanent  preparation.  Further,  the  vivisections  of  Faivre 
referred  only  to  a  part  or  region  and  not  to  an  organ.  To  establish 
that  the  ventral  face  of  a  ganglion  is  sensory  is  only  an  approximate 
result.  What  internal  organs  of  a  ganglion  does  this  face  comprise? 
Where  does  it  stop?  And  as  many  more  questions,  to  which  no 
answer  can  be  given  by  the  scalpel.  But  comparative  anatomy,  as 
we  shall  see,  is  not  content  with  pointing  out  the  sensory  region  ;  it 
also  determines  the  organ  and  the  nerve. 

Let  us  see,  now,  how  this  anatomical  demonstration  can  be  ef- 


THE  NERVOUS  CENTRE  OF  FLIGHT  IN  COLEOPTERA.          75 

fected.  We  have  directed  our  attention  to  certain  coleopters  which 
present  the  interesting  characteristic  of  possessing  wings  and  of  not 
making  use  of  these  for  flight  or  for  any  other  movement.  An  ap- 
pellation is  wanting  for  these  coleopters,  and  we  have  accordingly 
supplied  them  with  one  :  Aptesids,  from  a,  privative,  and  ptesis, 
flight,  to  point  out  their  chief  deficiency,  which  is  not  the  lack  of 
an  organ,  but  of  a  function.  Our  examination  is  restricted  to  three 
of  these  coleopters  of  quite  different  families,  namely  :  Blaps  morti- 
saga,  Timarcha  tenebricosa,  and  Carabus  auratus. 

In  these  three  species  the  membranous  wings  are  wanting. 
The  elytra  exist,  but  are  immobile  and  generally  soldered  together 
at  the  median  line.  These  organs  conserve  their  office  of  affording 
protection  for  the  abdomen.  There  is  a  curious  instance  of  dis- 
association  here  between  sensibility  and  motion  ;  the  elytrum  has 
remained  sensory,  but  has  lost  the  power  of  motion. 


Upper  dorsal  root  of  the 
alary  nerve 


Ventral  root  of  the  alary 


Fig.  10. — Schematic  transverse  section  of  the  second  thoracic  ganglion  of    Timarcha,  tene- 
bricosa, 

It  is  natural,  then,  that  we  should  seek  the  extent  to  which  this 
physiological  modification  has  affected  the  internal  structures  of  the 
ganglion.  The  idea  of  such  an  investigation  would  never  occur  to 
us,  if  we  did  not  know  that  insects  of  the  same  order  are  compara- 
ble one  with  another,  and  if  our  studies  had  not  already  informed 
us  that  a  thoracic  ganglion,  for  example,  has  much  the  same  or- 
ganisation in  all  coleopters.  We  can,  then,  legitimately  suppose 
that  the  roots  of  the  alary  nerve  present  the  same  disposition  in  a 
coleopter  that  flies  and  in  a  coleopter  that  does  not,  and  that  the 
differences  which  may  exist  between  the  two  cases  should  be  attri- 
buted to  the  physiological  modification  referred  to. 

Let  us  now  cast  a  glance  at  a  transverse  section,  seen  in  Fig. 
10,  of  the  second  thoracic  ganglion  of  Timarcha.  We  see  that  the 


76  THE    MON1ST. 

roots  of  the  alary  nerve  have  suffered  considerable  reduction.  The 
upper  dorsal  root  subsists.  The  ventral  root  also  subsists,  with  im- 
portant diminutions,  which  we  already  know  about.  The  suppres- 
sion continues  to  the  intermedial  root  and  to  the  lower  dorsal  root, 
whose  strange  course  we  have  described  above. 

We  have  not  traced  this  root  on  the  drawing,  because  we  have 
not  been  able  to  find  it  in  our  preparations.  Has  it  wholly  disap- 
peared? We  shall  not  answer  this  question  in  the  affirmative.  It  is 
sufficient  to  cast  a  glance  at  the  tangled  mass  of  fibres  of  one  of 
these  preparations, — which  our  drawings  always  simplify  and  sche- 
matise,—to  understand  how  dangerous  it  would  be  to  deny  the  ex- 
istence of  fibres  which  could  escape  the  most  practised  eye.  Still, 
a  negative  result  should,  with  reservations,  always  be  admissible. 
The  only  conclusion  to  be  insisted  upon  is — and  this  conclusion  is 
quite  sufficient  to  serve  as  the  basis' of  our  physiological  deductions — 
that  if  there  exist  in  the  ganglion  of  an  aptesic  coleopter  fibres 
representing  the  lower  dorsal  root  of  the  alary  nerve,  these  fibres 
must  be  greatly  reduced  in  number  and  in  importance,  for  while  a 
lower  dorsal  root  is  discovered  with  great  facility  in  a  ganglion 
which  possesses  the  power  of  flight,  here  these  fibres  are  not  at  all 
distinctly  discernible.  If,  at  some  future  day,  by  means  of  more  per- 
fect technical  methods,  we  succeed  in  clearly  distinguishing  these 
fibres,  it  will  yet  always  be  exact  to  say  that  the  loss  of  the  power  of 
flight  in  TimarcJia,  Blaps,  and  Carabus  is  especially  indicated  in  the 
lower  dorsal  root,  and  that  consequently  this  root  should  be  consid- 
ered as  motory  in  character. 

This  is  the  main  conclusion  which  we  are  now  in  possession  of, 
and  one  which  will  serve  us  as  a  point  of  departure  for  a  whole  se- 
ries of  deductions.  But,  before  accepting  it,  it  will  be  best  to  seek 
the  criticisms  which  can  be  advanced  in  connexion  with  it. 

If  the  lower  dorsal  root  is  motory,  the  ventral  root  is  sensory  ; 
these  two  conclusions  are  inseparably  connected.  We  may  ask,  in 
this  connexion,  what  can  be  the  nature  of  the  slender  root  which 
goes  to  the  upper  dorsal  region  of  the  ganglion,  and  which  exists  in 
Timarcha.  It  is  too  far  removed  from  the  ventral  root  to  be  en- 
dowed with  sensory  properties.  Should  it  be  considered  motor)7? 


THE  NERVOUS  CENTRE  OF  FLIGHT  IN  COLEOPTERA.          77 

This  supposition  appears  to  be  contradicted  by  the  fact  that  the 
elytrum  is  immobile  and  has  no  need  of  a  motor  nerve. 

This  slight  difficulty  of  interpretation  appears  to  us  to  find  its 
solution  in  a  remark  which  must  be  made  concerning  the  constitu- 
tion of  the  alary  nerve.  This  nerve  is  not  wholly  composed  of  fibres 
which  go  to  the  wing  ;  branches  proceed  from  the  alary  nerve,  which 
distribute  themselves  in  the  walls  of  the  body.  The  alary  nerve  is 
thus  a  nerve  at  once  alary  and  parietal ;  and  it  is  probable,  therefore, 
that  the  upper  dorsal  root  belongs  to  the  parietal  fibres. 

It  now  remains  to  be  known  how  the  alary  nerve  is  represented 
in  the  third  thoracic  ganglion  of  the  aptesic  coleopter.  The  third 
thoracic  ganglion  supplies  the  nerves  of  the  membranous  wings. 
These  latter,  we  have  said,  are  wanting  in  Ti7narcha,  as  also  in  two 
other  aptesic  coleopters.  Fig.  n  represents  a  transverse  section  of 


Fig.  11. — Schematic   transverse   section   of  the  third    thoracic    ganglion    of    Tiinarcha   tcne- 
bricosa. 

the  third  thoracic  ganglion  of  Timarcha.  It  will  be  seen  that  the 
alary  nerve  is  represented  here  by  two  roots,  exactly  as  in  the  second 
ganglion  ;  only, — and  the  difference  is  one  of  great  importance,— 
that  while  in  the  second  thoracic  ganglion  the  ventral  root  of  the 
alary  nerve  is  very  voluminous,  here,  in  the  third  ganglion,  it  is 
much  attenuated. 

Now,  keeping  this  feature  in  mind,  it  appears  that  we  may 
compare  this  nerve  in  its  attenuated  form  to  one  of  the  parietal 
nerves  which  we  found  in  the  series  of  the  abdominal  ganglia.  The 
abdominal  nerves  are  apparently  composed  of  two  slender  roots  of 
which  one  extends  into  the  upper  parts  of  the  dorsal  lobe,  while  the 
other  terminates  in  the  dorsal  column.  The  resemblance  is  indeed 
so  perfect  that  Fig.  n  might  represent  indifferently  a  section  of  the 
anterior  region  of  the  third  thoracic  ganglion  and  a  section  of  the 
abdominal  ganglion. 


78  THE  MON1ST. 

This  permits  us  to  make,  in  passing,  an  instructive  comparison 
between  an  abdominal  (or  parietal)  nerve  and  the  alary  nerve. 
These  two  types  of  nerves  have  a  common  root,  the  upper  dorsal 
root.  They  also  have  a  quite  analogous  second  root,  the  ventral 
root,  which  is  thin  in  an  abdominal  nerve,  but  quite  voluminous  in 
an  alary  nerve.  What  characterises  the  latter,  is  the  presence  of 
the  lower  dorsal  root,  which  is  not  represented  at  all  in  an  abdomi- 
nal nerve.  We  may  say — neglecting  slight  differences — that  the 
alary  nerve  is  an  abdominal  or  parietal  nerve,  to  which  a  lower  dor- 
sal root  is  added. 

This  resemblance  seems  to  us  confirmed  in  a  very  distinct  man- 
ner by  an  observation  which  we  have  made  on  the  thoracic  ganglia 
of  the  larvae  of  Coleoptera.  We  were  curious  to  know  in  what  form  an 
alary  nerve  appeared  in  the  larvae,  which,  as  is  well  known,  possess 
no  wings.  Fig.  n  could  also  represent,  just  as  faithfully,  a  section 
of  a  larval  thoracic  ganglion  taken  at  the  level  of  the  anterior  re- 
gion ;  that  is  to  say,  the  alary  nerve  is  represented  in  the  larvae  by 
a  parietal  nerve.  Again,  embryogeny  supplies  a  further  confirma- 
tion of  these  deductions,  by  showing  us  that  the  wing  is  not,  like 
the  leg,  a  real  appendage,  but  is  produced  from  the  wall  of  the  zo- 
onite,  which  at  the  points  where  this  development  does  not  take 
place  is  innervated  by  a  parietal  nerve.  But  let  us  leave  these  in- 
cidental considerations  and  return  to  our  main  subject. 

We  may  consider  it  for  the  present  an  established  fact  that  the 
alary  nerve  has  a  sensory  root,  namely,  the  ventral  root,  and  a  mo- 
tor root,  namely,  the  lower  dorsal  root.  This  conclusion,  we  see,  is 
in  perfect  accord  with  the  experiments  of  Faivre,  who  has  estab- 
lished that  the  ventral  face  of  the  ganglion  is  endowed  with  sensi- 
tive properties,  and  the  opposite  face  with  motor  properties.  Our 
conclusion  goes  much  further,  for  instead  of  referring  us  to  a  pro- 
vince that  is  undefined,  it  points  out  to  us  with  absolute  precision 
a  tangible  bundle  of  nerve-fibres. 

Knowing  the  nature  of  these  fibres,  we  can,  by  examining  the 
lobes  in  which  they  terminate,  learn  by  inference  the  physiological 
properties  of  the  lobes.  It  is  thus  that  the  ventral  column  receiving 
the  sensory  fibres  must  be  considered  as  an  organ  of  sensation,  while 


THE  NERVOUS  CENTRE  OF  FLIGHT  IN  COLEOPTERA.  79 

the  dorsal  lobe  which  receives  the  motor  fibres  is  certainly  a  centre 
of  motion. 

This  is  not  all.  Observation  shows  that  the  fibres  that  traverse 
the  ventral  column  from  the  front  to  the  rear  do  not  fuse  in  the  con- 
nective filaments  with  the  fibres  that  traverse  the  dorsal  lobe  of  the 
ganglion.  The  inference  from  this  is  that  the  dorsal  region  of  the 
connective  filaments  is  motory,  and  the  ventral  region  sensory. 

Continuing  our  deductions,  if  we  examine  the  brain  of  the  in- 
sect, we  shall -observe  that  it  includes  a  region,  the  fibrillar  sub- 
stance of  which  has  the  same  loose  texture  as  the  dorsal  lobe  of  a 
sub-intestinal  ganglion,  and  also  a  second  region  where  the  fibrillar 
substance  is  as  dense  as  in  the  ventral  column.  Owing  to  the  cepha- 
lic curvature,  these  regions  present  a  substantially  different  disposi- 
tion, and  the  ventral  region  of  the  sub-intestinal  ganglion  is  repre- 
sented in  the  brain  by  the  anterior  region  ;  similarly,  the  dorsal  re- 
gion of  the  sub-intestinal  ganglion  becomes  the  posterior  region  in 
the  case  of  the  brain.  These  homologues,  vague  as  they  at  first 
may  appear,  possess  at  least  the  interest  of  showing  that  in  the 
most  complex  ganglia  of  the  nervous  system  of  insects,  in  those 
ganglia  that  are  incontestably  the  seat  of  high  psychical  functions, 
we  find  the  same  divisions  of  sensory  and  motory  centres. 

We  shall  close  by  remarking  that  there  exists  in  the  brain  of 
insects  a  very  large  body  on  which  anatomists  have  bestowed  the 
name  of  pedunculate  body,  but  whose  functions,  despite  some 
curious  observations,  have  hitherto  remained  an  enigma.  It  is  re- 
garded as  incontestable  that  the  pedunculate  body  is  an  organ  of 
psychical  functions,  as  it  only  exists  in  the  first  brain  and  is  not  in 
connection  with  the  nerves  of  special  senses ;  and  also  because,  as 
the  beautiful  researches  of  M.  Forel  on  ants  have  shown,  the  devel- 
opment of  this  body  seems  to  be  greater  in  proportion  as  the  insect 
is  more  intelligent.  Our  studies  of  the  alary  nerve  make  an  im- 
portant addition  to  the  ideas  hitherto  held  on  this  subject.  In  view 
of  the  fact  that  the  pedunculate  body  belongs  almost  entirely  to  that 
region  of  the  brain  which  we  may  consider  sensory  and  which  is  the 
homologue  of  the  ventral  column,  we  believe  it  can  be  maintained 
that  the  pedunculate  body  is  a  sensory  organ.  ALFRED  BINET. 


HEREDITY  VERSUS  EVOLUTION.* 

AN  INVESTIGATION. 

WHEN  Dr.  Prosper  Lucas  published  his  work  on  "  L'he"redite 
naturelle,"  in  1847,  which  was  the  first  attempt  to  create  the 
science  of  heredity,  he  established  his  theories  on  the  metaphysical 
basis  of  two  laws,  one  of  spontaneity,  by  which  nature  tends  freely 
to  create  and  invent,  and  the  other  the  law  of  heredity,  by  which 
nature  tends  subordinately  to  imitate  and  repeat  her  creations.  He 
pursues  this  philosophical  discussion  through  fifteen  hundred  pages, 
but  his  facts  are  so  largely  given  on  hearsay  evidence  that  his  book 
has  little  scientific  value.  He  gravely  cites  the  case  of  a  Jew  who 
could  read  the  contents  of  a  book  through  its  covers  without  open- 
ing it,  and  says  his  son  inherited  this  remarkable  power.  Yet  Dr. 
Lucas's  work  no  doubt  gave  the  name  to  the  study  which  has  in 
the  last  few  years  become  so  important.  Galton,  in  England,  fol- 
lowed Lucas,  but  on  a  much  higher  level,  in  his  "Hereditary  Ge- 
nius," 1865.  Ribot,  in  France,  made  a  considerable  advance  in  his 
book  on  "Heredite"."  Such  works  form  a  class  by  themselves.  They 
constitute  the  necessary  stage  of  theory  and  assumption  through 
which  the  study  has  passed  to  its  present  more  scientific  period. 

The   word    "heredity"   had  not   been   anglicised   in   Darwin's 
time,    and   consequently  he  discussed  the  subject,  as  did   Galton, 


*  This  paper  was  read  recently  before  the  Anthropological  Society  of  Yonkers, 
New  York.  For  the  purpose  of  exactness,  the  writer  has  made  free  use  of  his  authori- 
ties, and  the  claim  to  originality,  if  any,  rests  on  the  grouping  of  the  subject,  the 
point  of  view  from  which  it  is  considered,  and  the  application  of  the  principles  ad- 
vanced. 


HEREDITY  VERSUS   EVOLUTION.  8 1 

under  the  more  correct  word  "inheritance."  The  transfer  of 
the  word  to  English  is,  it  would  appear,  due  to  its  use  by  Herbert 
Spencer,  who  either  adopted  it  from  some  less  known  writer  or  took 
it  direct  from  the  French.  In  either  case,  he  began  its  use  without 
referring  to  the  source  to  which  he  was  indebted  for  it,  or  explain- 
ing critically  its  meaning. 

Thus  formally  introduced  as  a  scientific  word,  first,  in  the 
French  by  Lucas,  and  then  in  the  English  by  Spencer,  it  gained  an 
immediate  and  wide-spread  acceptance,  under  the  rule  that  it  is 
legitimate  to  take  a  word  out  of  its  ordinary  and  familiar  use  and 
give  it  a  special  meaning  in  scientific  discussions. 

The  definitions  now  given  by  various  writers  are  in  part  as  fol- 
lows : 

Weismann  says  :  "The  word  heredity,  in  its  common  accepta- 
tion, means  that  property  of  an  organism  by  which  its  peculiar  na- 
ture is  transmitted  to  its  descendants."  Again,  "  Heredity  is  the 
process  which  renders  possible  the  persistence  of  organic  beings 
throughout  successive  generations. "  Ribot  defines  its  meaning  as 
"that  biological  law  by  which  all  beings  endowed  with  life  tend  to 
repeat  themselves  in  their  descendants.  It  is  for  the  species,  what 
personal  identity  is  for  the  individual."  Herbert  Spencer,  carefully 
following  Ribot,  defines  it  as  "the  law  that  each  plant  or  animal 
produces  others  of  a  like  kind  with  itself."  Romanes  says  more 
accurately,  "  The  great  principle  pervading  organic  nature,  which  is 
seen  so  mysteriously  to  bind  the  whole  creation  together,  as  in  a 
nexus  oi  organic  affinity,  is  now  understood  as  nothing  more  or  less 
than  the  principle  of  heredity."  Again,  "We  know  that  the  charac- 
ters of  parents  are  transmitted  to  their  progeny  by  means  of  hered- 
ity." He  also  speaks  of  "the  large  class  of  known  facts  and  un- 
known causes  which  are  conveniently  summarised  under  the  terms 
heredity  and  variability." 

While  these  definitions  show  us  its  meaning,  they  also  reveal 
how  closely  allied  heredity  is  to  evolution,  and  an  examination  of 
the  definitions  of  the  latter  indicates  that  the  two  words  are  almost 
interchangeable.  Evolution  is  defined  by  Romanes  as  the  "theory 
of  a  continuous  transmutation  of  species";  by  another  writer  as  "an 


82  THE  MONIST. 

explanation  how  all  existing  species  may  have  descended  from  one 
or  a  very  few  low  forms  of  life,"  or  how  "  existing  forms  of  life  have 
descended  by  true  generation  from  preexisting  forms,"  or  as  Professor 
Huxley  gives  it,  "the  hypothesis  which  supposes  the  species  living 
at  any  time  to  be  the  result  of  the  gradual  modification  of  preexist- 
ing species."  Evolution,  in  short,  is  a  theory  of  descent.  Heredity 
also  has  as  its  only  topic  "descent,"  and  it  inevitably  leads  us  to  a 
discussion  of  similar  investigations,  theories,  and  lines  of  thought. 
Though  they  treat  of  the  same  subjects,  there  are  differences  to  be 
noted  in  the  methods  of  treatment  adopted. 

Evolution  maybe  said,  in  the  words  of  Weismann,  to  be  "a. 
merely  formal  explanation  of  the  origin  of  species,  while  heredity  is 
an  attempt  to  discover  the  real  and  genuine  explanation."  He  adds 
that  investigation  "brings  out  clearly  the  speculative  character  of 
the  whole  hypothesis  of  evolution.  Darwin  only  asked  what  was 
necessary  to  assume  in  order  to  explain  this  or  that  fact  in  heredit}^ 
without  troubling  himself  to  consider  whether  the  assumption  were 
borne  out  by  facts  or  not."  This  is  a  fair  deduction  from  the  words 
of  Darwin,  where  he  writes.  "  the  principle  of  natural  selection  may 
be  looked  upon  as  a  mere  hypothesis."  Also,  when  he  pointed  out 
that  his  hypothesis  of  pangenesis  was  "  merely  provisional  "  and 
"an  expression  of  immediate  and  by  no  means  satisfactory  knowl- 
edge of  these  phenomena."  "  Ideal  theories,"  says  Weismann,  com- 
menting on  this  frank  acknowledgment,  "  are  by  no  means  use- 
less. They  are  the  first  and  often  indispensable  steps  which  we 
must  take  on  our  way  to  the  understanding  of  complex  phenomena." 

Evolution  is  a  theory,  an  hypothesis,  an  inspiration,  and  as  with 
all  the  revelations  which  have  come  to  mankind,  the  statement  pre- 
cedes the  practical  proof,  which  is  taken  up  afterwards  when  the 
exhilaration,  the  divine  afflatus,  of  the  original  conception  has  sub- 
sided. Then  cold  common  sense  takes  the  place  of  enthusiasm  and 
the  dissecting  table,  and  the  microscope  the  place  of  the  pleasures 
of  composition. 

The  comparison  may  be  summed  up  in  the  antithesis  that  evo- 
lution is  a  theory  of  descent,  and  heredity  the  science  of  descent. 

As  we  have  found  that  the   definitions  and  scope  of  evolution 


HEREDITY  VERSUS  EVOLUTION.     ,  83 

and  heredity  are  similar,  so  we  may  notice  that  the  discussion  of 
their  fundamental  propositions  run  parallel,  and  they  both  begin 
with  the  affirmation  and  denial  of  the  same  proposition.  Evolution 
in  its  modern  development  is  held  to  have  taken  its  rise  from  the 
hypothesis  of  Lamarck,  that  the  effects  of  use  and  disuse  are  in- 
herited. Heredity  may  be  said  to  have  become  a  science  when 
Weismann  in  his  famous  lecture  denied  that  acquired  characteristics 
are  transmitted. 

The  transmission  of  the' effects  of  use  and  disuse  is  the  funda- 
mental proposition  of  Lamarck.  Existing  forms  of  life,  says  La- 
marck, have  descended  by  true  generation  from  pre-existing  forms. 
Use  and  disuse  produce  development  and  atrophy  of  organs,  and 
on  this  principle  he  based  his  theory  of  the  transformation  of  spe- 
cies. Darwin  also  made  prominent  use  of  this  theory,  though  he 
greatly  amplified  it  by  his  hypothesis  of  natural  selection.  Spencer 
distinctly  returned  to  it.  He  rested  his  whole  system  of  biology, 
and  in  a  conspicuous  manner  his  "  Data  of  Ethics,"  on  the  Lamarck- 
ian  hypothesis  of  the  transmission  of  the  effects  of  use  and  disuse. 
His  revival  of  this  theory  gave  rise  to  the  term  Neo-Lamarckian. 
These  hypotheses  were  only  a  development  of  the  .teachings  of  La- 
marck and  rested  on  his  fundamental  doctrine. 

If  the  conclusion  of  Weismann  be  true,  evolution  is  only  the 
outgrowth  of  inherent  and  not  added  or  acquired  faculties,  and  the 
relation  between  one  generation  and  another  that  of  a  trustee  and 
not  of  a  parent  or  creator. 

If  it  can  be  proved  that  "the  heredity  tendencies  "  as  claimed 
by  Weismann  "are  transferred  from  generation  to  generation,  at 
first  unchanged  and  always  uninfluenced  in  any  corresponding  man- 
ner by  that  which  happens  during  the  life  of  the  individual  which 
bears  it,  then  all  our  ideas  on  the  transformation  of  species  require 
thorough  modification,  for  the  whole  principle  of  evolution  as  pro- 
posed by  Lamarck  and  accepted  by  Darwin,  entirely  collapses." 
Professor  Osborne,  of  Princeton,  has  said,  "if  from  the  evident  ne- 
cessity of  a  working  theory  of  heredity  the  onus  probandi  falls  upon 
the  Lamarckian — if  it  be  demonstrated  that  the  transmission  of  ac- 
quired characteristics  does  not  take  place,  then  we  are  driven  to  the 


84  THE  MONIST. 

I 

necessity  of  postulating  some  as  yet  unknown  factor  in  evolution  to  ex- 
plain the  purposive  or  directive  laws  in  variation . "  Weismann  prefaces 
his  < '  Lecture  on  Heredity  "  with  the  explanation  that  in  it  he  "  treats 
only  of  the  transmission  of  acquired  characteristics  which  has  hith- 
erto been  assumed  to  occur,"  and  adds  that  "the  inheritance  of 
acquired  characters  has  never  been  proved  either  by  means  of  direct 
observation  or  experiment."  Pfliiger  also,  in  reference  to  the  argu- 
ments in  favor  of  Lamarck's  theory,  says,  "Not  one  of  these  facts 
can  be  accepted  as  proof  of  the  transmission  of  acquired  characters." 

These  are  broad  statements,  for  Spencer  had  adduced  these 
facts,  in  support  of  transmission  :  the  diminished  biting-muscles  of 
lap  dogs,  diminution  of  jaws,  crowded  teeth,  blind  cave-crabs,  the 
neck  of  the  giraffe,  the  development  of  the  aesthetic  faculties,  inher- 
ited epilepsy  in  guinea-pigs  ;  and  Darwin  had  rested  his  argument 
on  a  learned  mass  of  scientific  facts,  such  as  the  reduced  wings  of 
birds  of  Oceanic  Islands,  drooping  ears  and  deteriorated  instincts, 
wings  and  legs  of  ducks  and  fowls-,  pigeon  wings,  shortened  breast 
bone  in  pigeons,  shortened  legs  of  rabbits,  blind  cave- animals,  in- 
herited habits,  tameness  of  rabbits,  short-sight  in  watchmakers  and 
engravers,  larger  hands  in  laborers'  infants,  and  inherited  mutila- 
tions. 

All  these  questions  are  discussed  and  ably  treated  by  William 
Platt  Ball,  in  his  book  "Are  the  Effects  of  Use  and  Disuse  Inher- 
ited? " — in  which  he  takes  the  negative.  He  finds  in  natural  selec- 
tion and  panmixia  a  sufficient  explanation  of  these  phenomena.  In 
reference  to  the  giraffe,  he  quotes  Darwin  as  saying,  natural  selec- 
tion alone  "would  have  sufficed  for  the  production  of  this  remark- 
able quadruped." 

It  was  a  great  work  for  any  man  to  undertake  single-handed  to 
reverse  the  received  opinions  of  the  scientific  world  on  so  funda- 
mental a  proposition  as  the  transmission  of  acquired  characteristics, 
and  yet  the  opinion  is  now  gaining  general  acceptance  that  this 
work  Weismann  accomplished,  so  that  now  the  position  he  an- 
nounced first  in  his  "  Essay  on  Heredity,"  which  appeared  June  21, 
1883,  has  been  received  and  accepted  by  the  leaders  of  the  evolu- 
tionary school.  A.  R.  Wallace,  who  shares  with  Darwin  the  dis- 


HEREDITY  VERSUS 'EVOLUTION.  85 

tinction  of  the  first  promulgation  of  evolution  and  natural  selection, 
expresses  his  acceptance  of  Weismann's  dogma  of  the  non-inheri- 
tance of  acquired  characteristics  in  these  words.  "  We  cannot  there- 
fore accept  any  arguments  against  the  agency  of  natural  selection 
which  are  based  upon  the  opposite  and  equally  unproved  theory  that 
acquired  characteristics  are  inherited,  and  as  this  applies  to  the 
whole  school  of  Neo-Lamarckians,  their  speculations  cease  to  have 
any  weight."  Prof.  Ray  Lankester  writes,  "  It  has  never  yet  been 
shown  experimentally  that  anything  acquired  by  one  generation  is 
transmitted  to  the  next." 

Mutilations  have  been  inflicted  upon  men  and  animals  for  cen- 
turies, such  as  flattening  the  head,  boring  the  ear,  tattooing  the 
flesh,  mutilations  for  ornament  and  as  religious  ceremonies,  and  yet 
not  the  slightest  effect  is  thereby  produced  upon  new  generations  of 
men  and  animals.  The  feet  of  Chinese  women  are  normal,  the 
bandaging  for  generations  has  not  produced  the  slightest  diminu- 
tion in  their  size.  Experiments  have  been  made  upon  mice  extend- 
ing over  a  thousand  specimens  by  cutting  off  their  tails,  without 
changing  the  form  of  that  member  in  succeeding  individuals.  No 
child  was  ever  born  who  knew  how  to  read  or  talk  or  play  on  the 
piano.  The  instances  which  are  narrated  of  the  transmission  of  ac- 
quired characteristics  are  found  upon  examination  to  be  idle  tales, 
chiefly  provocative  of  mirth,  as  when  Weismann  remarked  on  being 
told  of  the  transmission  of  the  marks  of  a  broken  leg,  that  it  was 
strange  the  scar  did  not  arrange  itself  in  the  form  of  an  inscription 
11  to  the  memory  of  the  fractured  leg  of  my  dear  mother." 

To  understand  the  scope  of  the  dogma  of  Weismann  we  must 
distinguish  clearly  what  is  meant  by  an  "  acquired  characteristic." 
Some  diseases  are  transmitted,  for  instance,  tuberculosis  and  small- 
pox ;  but  a  microbe  which  is  supposed  to  be  the  foundation  of  these 
and  other  hereditary  diseases,  is  not  an  acquired  character.  It  is 
simply  a  parasite.  Weismann  defines  an  acquired  characteristic  as 
"a  local  and  sometimes  a  general  variation  which  arises  under  the 
stimulus  of  external  influences."  He  gives  the  name  of  "somato- 
genic  "  to  the  characters  which  take  their  rise  in  the  "soma"  or 


86  THE  MONIST. 

body,  and  "  blastogenic  "  to  characters  which  belong  to  the  germ 
or  type. 

The  doctrine  is  that  no  changes  of  the  characteristics  relating 
to  the  body  and  no  mental  acquirements  which  are  not  inherent  in 
the  type  of  the  parent  can  be  transmitted.  As  Burns  sang — "  A 
man  's  a  man  for  a'  that,"  and  the  disadvantages  as  well  as  the  ad- 
vantages of  surroundings,  the  polish,  refinements,  and  acquirements 
of  wealth  and  education,  as  well  as  the  rudeness  and  ignorance  of 
poverty  are  not  transmitted.  This  doctrine  only  can  explain  the 
facts  of  life.  From  the  common  people  and  from  the  aristocracy 
alike,  spring  leaders  of  thought  and  men  of  action.  There  is  no 
warning  or  intimation  given  of  the  advent  of  genius,  and  where  we 
look  for  it,  it  is  not  found.  The  question  then  arises,  what  is  the 
cause  of  the  preservation  of  the  type  unchanged  not  only  from  gen- 
eration to  generation,  but  from  one  geological  period  to  another  ? 
Why  do  offspring  resemble  their  parents  in  not  only  general,  but 
particular  features?  To  account  for  these  phenomena,  the  various 
theories  have  arisen  regarding  the  germ  as  the  sole  bearer  of  life. 

Weisner  remarks  that  theories  of  heredity  have  always  adopted 
units  invented  for  that  purpose,  so  that  the  composition  of  living 
matter  out  of  very  small  units  has  become  one  of  the  fundamental 
points  of  such  a  theory. 

That  the  world  and  all  that  it  contains  is  composed  of  minute 
particles  is  a  theory  as  old  as  Democritus  who  first  propounded  the 
atomic  theory  four  hundred  years  before  Christ.  The  discussion 
which  began  in  his  time  against  his  theory  and  in  favor  of  that  of 
Anaxagoras  who  believed  in  the  continuity  of  bodies  and  that  all 
matter  which  had  extension  was  likewise  susceptible  of  division,  has 
continued  even  down  to  modern  times.  Descartes  denied  the  atomic 
theory.  Leibnitz,  on  the  other  hand,  regarded  his  monad  as  the 
ultimate  element  of  everything. 

When  the  microscope  became  developed  into  a  serviceable  in- 
strument, in  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  century,  the  Dutch  phi- 
losopher Leeuwenhoek  first  discovered  the  corpuscles  in  the  blood. 
But  the  imperfections  of  microscopes  caused  their  use  to  be  almost 
entirely  neglected,  until  in  1832,  when  owing  to  the  great  improve- 


HEREDITY  VERSUS  EVOLUTION.  87 

ments  in  their  construction,  minute  structural  anatomy  has  been  if 
not  created  anew,  at  least  thoroughly  revised.  John  Goodsir  laid 
great  stress  on  the  office  of  the  nucleus  in  the  growth  and  reproduc- 
tion of  cells.  Virchow  still  further  developed  the  idea  of  the  cellular 
structure  of  the  animal  organism.  Hugo  Van  Mohl,  and  after  him, 
Max  Schultze  designated  the  contents  of  the  cells  of  vegetable  and 
animal  organism  as  protoplasm. 

Ernst  Brucke  (1861)  was  the  first  to  maintain  the  existence  of 
small  vital  particles.  He  did  not  give  them  a  name,  but  he  opposed 
the  old  theory  of  cells  and  showed  that  their  bodies  must  possess 
organisations  quite  distinct  from  the  molecular  structures  of  organic 
compounds. 

Herbert  Spencer  considered  that  the  whole  organism  is  com- 
posed of  what  he  called  "physiological  units,"  in  all  of  which  he 
says  there  dwells  the  intrinsic  aptitude  to  aggregate  into  the  form 
of  that  species. 

Darwin  followed  with  the  theory  that  each  cell  of  a  living  body 
possesses  the  power  of  giving  off  invisible  gemmules  or  atoms,  and 
these  "gemmules  are  conveyed  into  the  blood  and  thus  circulate 
through  the  body." 

Galton  then  wrote  denying  the  circulation  of  the  gemmules  and 
substantiating  his  denial  by  satisfactory  proof. 

Elsberg  introduces  (1874)  the  term  "  plastidule  "  to  designate 
the  hypothetical  ultimate  particles  of  which  protoplasm  is  composed. 

Weismann  began  in  1883  to  introduce  his  idea  of  germ-plasm, 
maintaining  that  the  body  which  nourishes  the  germ-cells  is  only  an 
outgrowth  of  one  of  them. 

Nageli  in  1884  attempted  a  mechanico-physiological  explana- 
tion of  the  theory  of  descent.  He  calls  his  ultimate  particle  a 
"  micella,"  which  he  defines  as  a  minute  crystal,  microscopically 
invisible.  In  1889  a  writer  named  De  Vries  developed  a  theory  of 
heredity  in  a  paper  on  "  Intracellular  pangenesis,"  in  which  he  sub- 
stituted for  Darwin's  gemmules  the  ultimate  vital  particles  which 
he  called  "  pangenes  "  which  are  the  bearers  of  the  constituent  qual- 
ities of  the  species. 

But  it  is  left  to  Weismann   to   develop  a  theory  of  germ-plasm 


88  THE  MONIST. 

and  continuity  of  life  which  carries  the  minuteness  of  organisms  to 
a  point  beyond  which  it  would  seem  impossible  to  go.  Weismann 
is  a  microscopist,  and  he  shows  his  reliance  upon  the  microscope  in 
the  study  of  questions  of  heredity  when  he  says,  "  I  have  not  been 
able  to  make  out  by  my  own  observations  the  correctness  of  these 
views  as  to  the  ancestral  units,  my  impaired  eyesight,  which  has  so 
often  put  a  stop  to  microscopical  investigations,  has  again  rendered 
the  continuation  of  these  researches  impossible." 

The  most  important  of  Weismann's  doctrines,  the  non-trans- 
mission of  acquired  faculties,  we  have  already  alluded  to;  we  now 
approach  a  second,  the  continuity  of  life.  His  researches  in  con- 
nection with  these  two  discoveries  elevate  him  to  the  highest  rank 
among  biologists,  and  a  word  may  not  be  out  of  place  regarding  his 
style.  He  is  a  most  satisfactory  writer,  for  he  never  hesitates  to 
express  his  belief  as  it  is  at  the  time  of  writing.  The  scientific  cau- 
tion of  Darwin  is  entirely  lacking  in  him.  His  constant  and  em- 
phatic use  of  the  words,  "  I  believe,"  is  a  rebuke  to  the  wishy-washy 
indifferentism  which  agnosticism  has  made  popular,  and  sets  a  fine 
example  of  sincerity  and  independence  to  all  who  discuss  scientific 
subjects.  He  is  not  writing  for  effect  or  to  establish  a  theory,  but 
to  discover  the  truth.  He  has  no  weak  pride  of  self-consistency, 
and  chronicles  his  change  of  belief  with  unaffected  simplicity  and 
freedom.  He  abounds  in  trenchant  epigrammatic  statements,  which 
carry  conviction  of  their  sincerity,  if  not  always  as  to  their  truth. 

In  a  word,  his  theory  of  germ-plasm  is  three-fold.  By  a  long 
process  of  reasoning  and  investigation,  he  arrives  at  the  conclusion 
that  there  is,  first,  a  comprehensive  physiological  unit,  which  rep- 
resents the  ideal  of  the  individual,  whether  a  plant  or  animal.  This 
he  calls  the  "  id,"  the  first  syllable  of  ideoplasm.  It  is  the  archi- 
tectural thought  of  the  individual.  There  is,  second,  the  determi- 
nant, a  unit  which  controls  the  method  and  direction  of  the  develop- 
ment of  the  individual,  which  might  be  called  the  will  if  metaphysics 
had  not  gone  out  of  fashion.  Each  "id"  in  the  germ-plasm  is  built 
up  of  thousands  or  hundreds  of  thousands  of  determinants.  Lastly, 
there  is  the  biophor,  the  life-bearer,  the  smallest  and  most  multi- 
tudinous of  all  the  units.  The  number  of  possible  kinds  of  biophors 


HEREDITY  VERSUS   EVOLUTION.  89 

is  unlimited.  These  three  units,  somewhat  similar  in  characteris- 
tics to  body,  soul,  and  spirit,  constitute  the  historic,  architectural, 
ancestral  germ-plasm,  or  model  from  which  the  individual  is  formed. 
By  means  of  a  microscope  the  eye  can  see  one  of  four  thousand  lines 
in  four-tenths  of  an  inch  ;  but  in  size  these  biophors  are  inconceiv- 
ably beyond  the  power  of  the  microscope.  In  a  human  blood  cor- 
puscle squared  there  might  be  703,000,000  biophors.  Professor 
Mivart  says,  "  I  confess  I  do  not  believe  such  a  collocation  is  pos- 
sible." But  these  multitudinous  aggregations  allow  the  supposition 
towards  which  Darwin,  Spencer,  Weismann,  and  others  have  in- 
clined that  there  are  just  as  many  independent  and  variable  parts  in 
the  germ-plasm  as  exist  in  the  fully  formed  organism.  Under  the 
power  of  the  determinant,  a  single  biophor  might  be  developed  into 
the  skin  of  half  the  face,  for  instance,  and  as  there  are  thousands  of 
millions  of  biophors  in  each  individual,  the  combinations  of  devel- 
oped characteristics  become  infinite,  and  it  is  practically  impossible 
for  any  two  individuals  to  be  alike.  The  circumstances,  forces,  con- 
ditions, accidents,  as  we  call  them,  of  life,  or,  as  some  say,  the  en- 
vironment, compel  development  or  restrain  it,  and  produce  an  end- 
less variety.  But  this  variety  is  one  limited  by  historic  and  inherent 
blastogenic  characters.  The  multitude  of  biophors  seems  required 
not  only  by  the  individual,  but  by  his  descent.  The  characteristics 
of  the  immediate  parents,  as  developed  in  the  offspring,  are  incon- 
ceivably numerous  ;  but  if,  as  we  believe,  there  has  been  an  upward 
development  from  lower  to  higher  orders,  the  characteristics  pos- 
sessed by  a  long  ancestry  of  all  these  forms  of  life  must  be  repre- 
sented. An  explanation  of  reversion  and  atavism  is  thus  offered. 
Sickness,  health,  accidents,  favorable  or  unfavorable  surroundings 
will  control  the  development  of  the  biophors,  and  thousands  of  mil- 
lions will  never  be  called  into  activity,  while  those  which  are  devel- 
oped will  determine  the  character  of  the  personality  which  will  re- 
sult. 

Thus  the  biophors  representative  of  near  or  remote  ancestors 
may  be  developed  in  any  individual.  Camoens,  the  epic  poet  of 
Portugal  of  the  sixteenth  century,  not  only  fascinated  his  country- 
men with  the  charm  of  his  poetry,  but  also  by  his  dazzling  beauty 


go  THE  MONIST. 

as  a  pure  blonde,  descended  from  and  surrounded  by  a  swarthy  race. 
A  single  biophor  might  have  floated  down  to  him  from  some  unre- 
corded ancestor,  or  even  more  remotely  still  from  some  yellow- 
haired  animal,  and,  by  an  occult  cause,  have  been  so  developed  in 
him  as  to  control  his  whole  personality. 

Shakespeare  expresses  and  exhausts  the  thought  when  he  puts 
into  the  mouth  of  a  slave  of  Cressid  this  description  of  Ajax  : 

"  This  man,  lady,  hath  robbed  many  beasts  of  their  particular  additions  ;*  he 
is  as  valiant  as  the  lion,  churlish  as  the  bear,  slow  as  the  elephant ;  a  man  into 
whom  nature  hath  so  crowded  humors  that  his  valor  is  crushed  into  folly,  his  folly 
sauced  with  discretion.  There  is  no  man  hath  a  virtue  that  he  hath  not  a  glimpse 
of, .nor  any  man  an  attaint,  but  he  carries  some  stain  of  it." 

This  is  the  whole  science  of  heredity  anticipated  by  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty  years. 

But  this  variety  is  limited  by  historic  and  inherent  blastogenic 
characters,  and  consequently  development  takes  place  within  a  pre- 
scribed range.  Outside  of  this  range  is  infertility.  Each  species  is 
therefore  sharply  circumscribed  on  all  sides  by  the  doctrine  of  non- 
transmission  and  the  continuity  of  life.  Yet  the  evolutionist  as- 
sumes to  account  not  only  for  one  species,  but  for  all,  and  for  all 
the  changes  by  which  the  unicellular  organism  is  differentiated  into 
the  multicellular. 

Evolutionists  of  the  extreme  Neo-Lamarckian  school,  of  whom 
Herbert  Spencer  is  an  example,  if  not  the  leader,  account  even  for 
the  existence  of  well  developed  moral  sentiment  and  the  feeling  of 
obligation,  the  oughtness,  by  the  Lamarckian  principle.  In  his  let- 
ter to  John  Stuart  Mill,  Spencer  writes:  "Moral  intuitions  are  the 
results  of  the  accumulated  experiences  of  utility."  He  speaks  in 
his  "Data  of  Ethics  "  of  "the  inheritance  of  the  effects  of  the  pleas- 
urable and  painful  experience  in  progenitors,"  which  is  the  basis  on 
which  his  whole  psychological  view  rests.  If  there  is  no  transmis- 
sion, then,  as  Wallace  said,  "his  speculations  on  the  subject  cease 
to  have  any  weight,"  and  the  source  of  the  feeling  of  oughtness  can- 


*  Shakespeare  here  and  elsewhere  uses  the  word   "  additions  "  in  the  sense  of 
characteristics. 


HEREDITY  VERSUS   EVOLUTION.  QI 

not  be  utilitarian,  empirical,  and  evolutionary,  but  must  be  inher- 
ent, intuitional,  and  blastogenic.  The  existence  of  native  moral 
sentiments  is  confirmed  by  the  earliest  known  writers,  by  the  ten- 
derness of  Buddha  towards  human  suffering,  by  the  provision  of  the 
Jewish  law,  "  thou  shalt  not  seethe  the  kid  in  its  mother's  milk, " 
by  the  writings  of  Catullus  in  Rome's  most  cruel  era,  and  in  modern 
times  by  the  aptitude  of  savages  to  become  civilised. 

Let  us  ask,  what  effect  has  the  theory  of  the  continuity  of  the 
germ-plasm  on  the  other  theories  we  have  been  considering.  Evi- 
dently it  corroborates  and  confirms  the  non-transmission  of  acquired 
characteristics,  for  it  proves  that  the  germ  is  ancestral  and  historic, 
and  it  builds  up  an  individual  well  furnished  with  capacity  for  de- 
velopment, as  we  used  to  say,  or  with  biophors,  which  may  be 
called  into  activity  or  lie  dormant' as  the  determinants  may  elect  or 
circumstances  require.  Incidentally  it  excludes  stirpiculture,  and  it 
shows  the  necessity  of  the  education  and  amelioration  of  every  suc- 
cessive generation  and  of  every  member  of  each  generation,  as  the 
only  means  of  race  improvement.  It  shows  that  the  parent  is  a 
trustee  and  not  a  creator,  in  which  it  follows  the  teaching  of  the 
highest  scientific  authorities.  And  finally,  it  shows  that  if  evolution 
is  to  stand,  some  new  principle  must  be  adduced  in  its  support,  as 
was  said  by  Professor  Osborne  ;  for  the  trend  of  non-transmission 
and  continuity  only  teaches  that  all  things  must  have  continued  from 
the  beginning  of  their  creation  as  they  are. 

There  are  two  rival  hypotheses  to  account  for  the  differentia- 
tion we  see  in  the  organic  world.  Evolution,  in  the  various  forms 
in  which  it  is  held,  and  special  creation  in  its  varying  shades  of  ac- 
ceptance. The  evolution  of  Lamarck  and  Spencer  need  not  be 
referred  to  as  that  has  already  been  sufficiently  considered. 

Evolution  by  natural  selection  is  the  solution  advanced  by  Dar- 
win and  his  school  to  account  for  variation,  the  origin  of  species, 
and  the  upward  progress  visible  in  the  organic  world  :  while  the 
vast  conservative  majority,  which  learns  slowly  and  moves  cau- 
tiously, replies,  on  the  authority  of  the  consentient  opinion  of  man- 
kind, it  is  rather  development  by  special  creation. 

Let  us,  then,  get  an  understanding  of  these  two  theories  from 


Q2  THE  MONIST. 

definitions  given  by  those  who  are  authorised  to  speak.  Weismann 
says  :  "Charles  Darwin  and  Alfred  Russell  Wallace  have  taught  us 
to  understand  by  natural  selection  that  process  of  elimination  ef- 
fected by  nature  itself,  without  the  aid  of  man."  Darwin  himself 
says  :  "The  term  natural  selection  is  in  some  respects  a  bad  one, 
as  it  seems  to  imply  conscious  choice."  Again:  "  For  brevity,  I 
sometimes  speak  of  natural  selection  as  an  intelligent  power.  I  have 
also  often  personified  this  power,  for  I  have  found  it  difficult  to  avpid 
this  ambiguity."  Again:  "The  principle  of  natural  selection  may 
be  looked  upon  as  a  mere  hypothesis."  These  definitions  were 
enunciated  when  natural  selection  was  first  advanced  to  complete 
the  theory  of  evolution.  Professor  Romanes,  of  Oxford,  claims  to 
have  been  a  student  of  evolution  for  thirty  years,  and  we  may  there- 
fore learn  from  him  the  views  held  by  the  generation  of  Darwin's 
adherents  who  have  followed  him.  He  says  :  "Nature,  so  to  speak, 
selects  the  best  individuals  out  of  each  generation  to  live.  As  men 
by  selection  slowly  but  continuously  improve  their  stock,  so  nature, 
by  a  similar  process  of  selection,  slowly  but  continuously  makes  the 
various  species  of  plants  and  animals  better  and  better  suited  to  the 
condition  of  their  life."  Weismann,  on  the  other  hand,  says  :  "Such 
a  view  is  not  strictly  correct,  for  retrogression  and  degenerate  forms 
play  an  important  part  in  evolution. "  <  'There  is  no  reason, "  continues 
Professor  Romanes,  "why  we  should  set  any  limits  to  which  this 
process  is  able  to  go." 

He  then  condenses  the  arguments  in  favor  of  natural  selection 
into  four  "facts,"  as  he  calls  them.  It  must  appear  from  the  read- 
ing of  these  so-called  "facts  "  that  to  so  designate  them  is  a  peculiar 
use  of  language.  They  are  theories,  not  facts.  The  first  "fact  "  is 
the  necessity  for  selection,  because  any  one  form  of  life  would  domi- 
nate the  world  if  all  its  descendants  were  allowed  to  live.  Does 
this  theory  not  rather  prove  the  necessity  for  the  limitation  of  in- 
crease by  destruction,  the  use  of  animals  as  food,  and  infertility? 
For  food  purposes  the  best  specimens  are  selected,  and  this  process 
would  tend  to  deterioration.  The  second  "fact"  is  this  :  "Nature 
is  therefore  always  picking  out  or  selecting  the  individuals  best  fit- 
ted to  live."  This  theoretical  process  is  therefore  done  by  nature, 


HEREDITY  VERSUS   EVOLUTION.  93 

and  not  by  the  individuals  themselves.  The  third  "fact"  is  :  "  In- 
dividuals so  selected  transmit  their  favorable  qualities' to  their  de- 
scendants." If  transmission  is  accepted,  which  theory  is  contrary 
to  the  teaching  of  Weismann's  school  as  far  as  it  applies  to  quali- 
ties acquired  during  the  life  of  the  individual,  it  must  be  allowed 
that  unfavorable  as  well  as  favorable  qualities  may  be  handed  down. 
The  fourth  and  last  "fact"  is  plainly  on  its  face  a  theory.  Pro- 
fessor Romanes  says  :  "Our  common  mother,  Nature  (personified 
by  a  capital  N),  is  able  to  distinguish  between  all  her  children. 
When  an  individual  variation  gives  to  that  individual  a  better  chance 
in  the  struggle  for  life,  Nature  (again  with  a  capital  N}  chooses 
that  individual  to  survive,  and  so  to  perpetuate  the  improvement  in 
his  or  her  progeny."  Weismann  has  given  the  name  Panmixia  to 
the  freedom  all  organisms  possess  to  survive  and  commingle  their 
variations.  Panmixia  intervenes  therefore  as  a  disturbing  element, 
to  prevent  any  orderly  carrying  out  of  the  upward  progress  of  nat- 
ural selection,  and  to  restore  all  variations  to  the  architectural  an- 
cestral type. 

In  the  next  sentence  Professor  Romanes  writes  :  "  Now,  I  say 
that  all  these  several  component  parts  of  Darwinian  doctrine  are 
not  matters  of  theory,  but  matters  of  fact."  Let  us  see  where  these 
facts  lead  him  to,  for  it  is  probably  in  a  different  direction  from 
that  in  which  he  desires  to  go.  He  personifies  nature  as  an  active, 
intelligent  agent,  ruling  over  organic  life  with  a  definite  purpose, 
acting  as  a  man  does  in  cultivating  his  herds.  He  describes  the 
individuals  as  selected  without  the  exercise  of  their  own  volition  for 
a  purpose,  and  that  is  to  make  the  various  species  better.  On  page 
after  page  he  contrasts  what  he  calls  "the  two  rival  theories  of  evo- 
lution and  special  creation,"  and  in  fact  this  comparison  may  be 
said  to  be  the  subject-matter  of  his  book.  Yet,  when  he  comes  to 
discuss  the  subject  of  natural  selection,  he  is  obliged  to  take  refuge 
in  a  form  of  expression,  which  is  only  to  be  explained  by  the  accep- 
tance of  the  rival  theory  of  special  creation,  which  he  is  endeavor- 
ing to  overthrow.  Who  is  our  common  mother  Nature?  Why  did 
he  not  give  us  a  scientific  definition  of  her?  Where  is  her  abode? 
How  does  she  exercise  her  discriminating  powers  over  her  children? 


94  THE   MONIST. 

He  evidently  has  faith  in  mother  Nature,  in  her  wisdom  and  power 
and  justice  and  goodness  and  truth.  She  must  be,  from  his  descrip- 
tion, infinite  and  eternal  and  unchangeable. 

After  this,  we  read  with  a  smile  the  last  pages  of  his  book, 
where  he  claims  that  "evolution  has  rendered  the  mechanical  inter- 
pretation of  nature  universal,"  and  where  he  thinks  "the  religious 
mind  has  suddenly  awakened  to  a  new  and  terrible  force  in  the 
words  of  its  traditional  enemy,  'Where  is  now  thy  God?'  '  Pro- 
fessor Romanes  will  have  to  rewrite  his  anthropomorphic  pages  on 
natural  selection,  if  he  wishes  the  ordinary  reader  not  to  take  his 
closing  words  as  a  non  sequitur. 

We  can  add  to  these  explanations  of  Darwin  and  Romanes 
other  meanings  which  are  attached  to  the  word  Nature  : — thus  to 
the  fortuitist  it  means  chance,  to  the  materialist  it  means  the  chem- 
ical and  physical  properties  of  matter,  to  the  agnostic  it  means  sim- 
ply the  play  of  forces  in  the  organic  and  inorganic  world,  and  to  the 
theist  it  means  a  personal  Creator.  It  becomes,  therefore,  a  very 
convenient  word,  a  symbol  to  which  each  one  may  attach  his  own 
particular  meaning,  and  use  it  without  compromising  his  views. 
It  enables  us  to  avoid  Professor  Lankester's  sneer  at  American  evo- 
lutionists, in  that  they  have  conspicuously  abandoned  the  scientific 
method. 

Having  considered  the  views  of  Darwin  and  Romanes  on  nat- 
ural selection,  it  remains  to  consider  those  of  Weismann. 

Professor  Weismann  does  not  disguise  the  difficulty  he  meets 
in  attempting  to  incorporate  the  doctrine  of  natural  selection  into 
his  theory  of  heredity.  He  walked  upon  firm  ground  when  he  was 
laying  the  foundation  of  his  theory  of  the  non-transmission  of  ac- 
quired characteristics.  He  has  proved  that  doctrine  beyond  his 
power  to  recall  it.  But  the  task  he  has  set  before  himself  is  to  pro- 
duce a  complete  system  to  account  for  the  origin  of  species,  and, 
like  Darwin,  he  turns  to  natural  selection,  and  says  that  the  indi- 
vidual differences,  caused  by  the  various  development  of  biophors, 
form  the  material  out  of  which  natural  selection  produces  new 
species. 


HEREDITY  VERSUS  EVOLUTION.  95 

All  his  readers  will  assent  to  his  remarks  which  follow  this 
statement.  He  says  : 

1 '  At  first  sight  this  conclusion  appears  to  be  very  startling  and  almost  incredi- 
ble, because  we  are  inclined  to  believe  that  the  continued  combination  of  existing 
difference  cannot  lead  to  their  intensification,  but  rather  to  their  diminution  and 
gradual  obliteration.  Indeed,  the  opinion  has  already  been  expressed  that  devia- 
tions from  the  specific  type  are  rapidly  destroyed  by  the  operation  of  reproduction." 

This  willingness  to  argue  against  his  established  convictions 
smacks  of  the  pleader  and  not  of  the  judge,  and  exposes  Weismann 
to  the  criticism  which  he  passed  upon  Darwin,  and  suggests  the 
suspicion  that  he  is  only  seeking  what  is  necessary  to  assume  in 
order  to  complete  a  system  of  heredity.  Thus  we  see  that  Darwin, 
Romanes,  arid  Weismann  all  progress  bravely  with  their  theories 
until  they  reach  the  crucial  point  of  accounting  for  the  origin  of  spe- 
cies. Then  Darwin  falters,  and  says  natural  selection  is  a  bad  term, 
that  is,  that  it  expresses  on  its  surface  the  thought  he  wishes  were 

true,  but  his  scientific  knowledge  requires  him  to  give  it  a  meaning 

/  __  » 

under  which  the  thought  breaks  down.  So  Romanes,  who  is  a  faith- 
ful follower  of  Darwin,  makes  a  break  which  is  far  more  conspicu- 
ous. And  then  Weismann,  returning  to  the  same  attack,  and  ani- 
mated by  the  same  purpose,  actually  surrenders  the  fruits  of  his 
greatest  victory  rather  than  acknowledge  that  there  is  conscious  ac- 
tion in  nature. 

We  see,  from  this  difficulty  which  besets  the  path  of  these  great 
thinkers,  the  true  source  of  the  strength  of  the  theory  of  special 
creation.  It  accepts  all  that  science  has  to  say  as  to  methods  and 
chronology  and  development  and  evolution  as  a  process,  and  when 
the  point  is  reached  where  other  theories  break  down,  it  offers  the 
simple  solution  of  the  existence  of  a  personal  creator. 

I  must  confess  to  much  surprise  when,  to  learn  the  most  recent 
position  of  those  who  favor  evolution,  I  took  up  Professor  Romanes's 
book  last  summer  and  read  his  confession  that  there  are  but  two 
rival  hypotheses  to  account  for  the  origin  of  species,  evolution  and 
special  creation.  For  confession  it  must  be  called  after  all  the  argu- 
ments, scientific  proofs,  raillery  and  sarcasm,  which  have  been  ex- 


96  THE  MONIST. 

pended  in  its  overthrow.      Spencer  closes  his  chapter  on  the  special 
creation  hypothesis  in  these  words  : 

"  Thus,  however  regarded,  the  hypothesis  of  special  creations  turns  out  to  be 
worthless — worthless  by  its  derivation  ;  worthless  in  its  intrinsic  incoherence,  worth- 
less as  absolutely  without  evidence  ;  worthless  as  not  supplying  an  intellectual 
need  ;  worthless  as  not  satisfying  a  moral  want.  We  must  therefore  consider  it  as 
coun'ting  for  nothing  in  opposition  to  any  other  hypothesis  respecting  the  origin  of 
organic  beings." 

Remembering  this  attitude,  which  was  originally  taken  by  Spen- 
cer in  1852  and  reaffirmed  in  1864,  and  expecting  rather  to  read  in 
Romanes's  book  his  belief  that  now  all  the  thinking  world  was  of 
one  mind  and  that  special  creation  was  a  forgotten  myth,  I  say  I 
was  surprised  instead  of  that  to  read  that  it  was  the  one  rival  theory 
of  evolution,  and  I  said  to  myself,  What,  not  dead  yet,  and  after  so 
many  funeral  orations  ?  Surely  this  theory  has  a  wonderful  vitality. 

A  word  must  therefore  be  said  of  the  present  position  of  the 
doctrine  of  special  creation. 

It  is  the  old  belief  contained  in  the  words  of  Cicero — Deus  viuji- 
dum  aedificavit, — God  built  the  world.  The  fundamental  idea  of  the 
special  creationist  is  that  of  a  conscious  power  working  in  and  over 
nature.  It  is  not  against  evolution  or  epigenesis,  but  against  for- 
tuity, chance,  or  spontaneous  generation,  or  materialism,  or  the 
chemical  theory.  It  is  well  described  by  Weismann  in  writing  of 
Lamarckianism  :  "An  ideal  theory,  an  indispensable  step  which  wre 
must  take  on  our  way  to  the  understanding  of  complex  phenomena." 
It  is  a  theory  which  personifies  nature  as  Professor  Romanes  has 
done  for  us,  and  accepts  natural  selection  in  the  sense  Darwin  and 
Wallace  have  taught  us  to  receive  it,  as  the  selection  by  nature.  It 
is  held  by  educated  men,  not  in  the  form  satirised  by  Spencer,  in 
that  essay  of  his  which  Darwin  so  heartily  applauded,  but  as  a  the- 
ory which  answers  more  questions,  solves  more  doubts,  and  raises 
more  veils  than  any  other  which  has  ever  been  propounded  by  man. 
Though  heavily  weighted  with  the  accumulated  ignorance  and  su- 
perstition of  all  the  ages,  it  is  still  the  rival  theory,  because  of  such 
admissions  as  the  following  of  Weismann  :  "I  admit  that  spontane- 
ous generation,  in  spite  of  all  vain  efforts  to  demonstrate  it,  remains 


HEREDITY  VERSUS  EVOLUTION.  97 

for  me  a  logical  necessity."  And  "I  hardly  think  we  shall  ever 
reach  the  point  of  explaining  vital  processes  by  means  of  the  well- 
known  chemical  and  physical  properties  of  matter,  but  until  the  ex- 
planation is  proved  to  be  impossible,  it  will  in  my  opinion  be  un- 
justifiable for  science  to  relinquish  the  attempt."  Special  creation 
therefore  stands  on  the  same  footing  as  any  scientific  theory,  as  spon- 
taneous generation,  or  materialism,  an  unprovable  hypothesis,  and 
yet  to  the  vast  majority  of  mankind  a  logical  necessity. 

We  have  now  considered  in  rapid  survey  the  theory  of  the  non- 
transmission  of  acquired  characteristics,  of  the  germ-plasm  and  the 
continuity  of  life,  of  natural  selection  and  the  rival  theories  of  evo- 
lution and  special  creation. 

It  remains  to  be  asked  what  are  the  relations  of  these  theories 
to  each  other,  when  brought  together  in  the  science  of  heredity,  and 
it  must  be  seen  that  if  non-transmission  and  the  continuity  of  life  be 
accepted,  then  selection  by  nature  and  special  creation  coalesce 
under  the  definitions  given  them,  and  evolution  becomes  merely  a 
description  of  the  process  and  not  of  the  power  which  accounts  for 
the  origin  and  variation  of  species. 

A  collateral  result  of  the  conclusions  of  heredity  may  be  to 
shorten  the  world-chronology  which  it  has  been  the  fashion  to 
lengthen  indefinitely,  and  to  modify  but  not  supplant  the  funda- 
mental biological  and  psychological  beliefs  of  the  ages. 

THEODORE  OILMAN. 


SEBASTIEN  CASTELLION  AND  RELIGIOUS 
TOLERATION. 

ONE  of  the  last  Frenchmen  whom  I  met  before  starting  from 
Paris  in  April  was  M.  Ferdinand  Buisson,  Director  of  Primary 
Education  in  the  Ministry  of  Public  Instruction,  a  leading  authority 
in  France  on  all  pedagogical  questions  and  one  of  the  founders  of 
the  public  school  system  of  that  country.  On  leaving  him,  he  pre- 
sented me  with  two  magnificent  volumes  *  devoted  to  the  humble 
life  and  lofty  labors  of  S6bastien  Castellion,  the  Franco-Swiss  teacher, 
author,  theologian,  and  reformer,  one  of  the  earliest  and  most  fear- 
less apostles  of  religious  toleration  ;  and  he  suggested  that  I  give 
wider  publicity  to  this  work  in  the  English-speaking  world.  This 
biography  deserves  indeed  to  be  better  known  among  us,  both  on 
account  of  the. author  and  the  subject ;  and  hence  the  writing  of  this 
article,  which  is  based  mainly  on  a  review  of  the  work  from  the  pen 
of  Prof.  Alfred  Rambaud.f 

In  his  Preface,  M.  Buisson  says  :  "Ten  times  interrupted  and 
each  time  for  a  long  interval,  the  book  was  never  entirely  abandoned 
even  when  the  author  might  have  despaired  of  ever  finishing  it." 
Begun  in  1865,  the  labor  was  not  completed  till  last  year.  It  was  a 
heavy  task.  The  study  of  the  materials  was  in  itself  Herculean. 
Countless  printed  or  manuscript  documents  which  had  to  be  exam- 
ined were  scattered  through  the  libraries  of  cities,  universities,  and 

*  Sebastien  Castellion,  sa  -vie  et  son  atwre  (1515-1563),  etude  sur  les  origines  du 
protestantisme  liberal  fran$ais,  2  vols.  in-8°.  Paris,  Hachette.  A  copy  of  this  work 
will  be  found  in  the  library  of  Cornell  University. 

f  See  Revue  Bleite,  Tome  50,  No.  6. 


SEBASTIEN  CASTELLION  AND  RELIGIOUS  TOLERATION.  gg 

churches  in  France,  Germany,  Holland,  and  Switzerland.  The 
bibliography  of  Castellion's  writings,  giving  their  various  editions 
from  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century  down  to  our  own  day,  and 
embracing  their  translations  into  all  the  tongues  of  Europe — this 
alone  was  an  undertaking  of  no  ordinary  kind.  In  a  word,  as  one 
of  the  reviewers  truly  says,  "this  book  is  a  veritable  encyclopaedia 
of  the  Renaissance  and  the  Reformation." 

Who  was  Se"bastien  Castellion  ?  M.  Rambaud  answers  the 
question  as  follows  on  the  authority  of  M.  Buisson.  We  are  told 
that  he  was  one  of  the  most  learned  humanists  and  professors  of  the 
sixteenth  century.  A  Latin  school  book  which  he  compiled  had 
much  the  same  success  in  Europe  in  those  days  as  Webster's  spell- 
ing-book has  had  in  our  own  country  during  the  present  century.  I 
refer  to  his  "  Dialogi  Sacri  "  of  which  M.  Buisson  has  unearthed  not 
less  than  one  hundred  and  thirty  editions  issued  between  1543  and 
i7gi,  and  to  be  found  in  all  the  important  cities  of  Switzerland, 
Germany,  and  the  Low  Countries,  in  London,  Edinburgh,  and  Dub- 
lin, and  even  in  Spain  and  Hungary.  His  Greek  and  Latin  poems, 
his  translations  from  the  Hebrew,  Greek,  and  Latin,  delighted  the 
humanists  of  his  time,  while  his  translations  of  the  Bible  into  Latin 
and  French  were  events  in  the  religious  and  literary  worlds  of  that 
age.  But  the  originality  of  Castellion  lies  in  the  private  evolution 
of  his  religious  mind,  the  affirmation  of  two  or  three  great  truths 
which  he  was  among  the  first  to  proclaim,  which  he  was  among  the 
most  determined  in  supporting,  and  which  mark  him  as  one  of  the 
founders  of  several  great  Protestant  sects  and  one  of  the  earliest 
precursors  of  liberty  of  conscience. 

Se"bastien  Castellion  was  born  in  1515  in  France  near  the  Swiss 
frontier  and  studied  at  Lyons,  then  a  famous  seat  of  learning.  When 
the  Reformation  burst  upon  the  world,  the  little  group  of  Lyonese 
humanists,  who  counted  Castellion  among  their  number,  was  imme- 
diately split  in  twain.  One  division  submitted  to  Rome,  but  the 
second,  to  which  Castellion  belonged,  revolted.  What  finally  de- 
cided him  to  break  with  the  old  church  was  the  terrible  spectacle  of 
the  execution  of  heretics.  In  1536,  Jean  Cormon,  a  peasant  of 
Bresse  near  the  birthplace  of  Castellion,  perished  in  the  flames 


IOO  THE   M  ON  I  ST. 

simply  because  he  had  colported  the  Bible.  In  1538  Castellion 
learned  that  a  book-seller,  Jean  de  Lagarde,  and  a  Toulouse  stu- 
dent, had  met  a  similar  fate  in  Paris.  Martin  Gorain  was  drowned 
at  Grenoble  in  1536,  while  the  following  year  witnessed  the  burning 
of  several  heretics  in  various  parts  of  France.  Finally,  in  Lyons  it- 
self, the  very  alma  mater  of  Castellion,  Cardinal  de  Tournon  gave 
to  the  flames  four  poor  souls  in  January,  1540.  These  cruel  butch- 
eries pierced  the  very  heart  of  Castellion. 

Up  to  this  time  the  exact  doctrine  and  meaning  of  the  Refor- 
mation was  not  absolutely  clear  to  Castellion  nor  to  many  others 
who  were  wavering  like  himself.  But  when,  in  March  1536,  Cal- 
vin's "Institution  Chretienne  "  appeared,  the  Reformation  became 
more  definite  in  Castellion's  mind.  From  that  moment  he  may  be 
said  to  have  become  a  Calvinist.  This  book  and  the  autos-da-fe 
decided  his  vocation.  In  the  spring  of  1540  he  went  to  Strassburg 
and  lived  under  the  same  roof  with  Calvin,  paying  his  share  of  the 
expenses,  it  should  be  noted,  and  becoming  one  of  Calvin's  most 
devoted  disciples.  Calvin  was  then  thirty-one  years  old  and  Castellion 
was  his  senior  by  three  or  four  years.  When  the  former  was  recalled 
to  Geneva,  the  latter  followed  him  and  became,  in  1541,  the  head 
of  a  college  there.  Then  it  was  that  Castellion  published  his  "  Dia- 
logi  Sacri "  and  began  his  translations  of  the  Bible.  He  now  desired 
to  become  a  minister,  but  as  he  would  not  accept  Calvin's  interpre- 
tation of  certain  portions  of  the  Bible,  the  latter  refused  to  allow 
him  to  take  holy  orders.  Castellion  thereupon  decided  to  break  with 
Calvin  and  quitted  Geneva.  Thus  began  the  struggle  which  is  still 
going  on  between  Liberalism  and  Orthodoxy. 

When  Castellion  left  Geneva  he  of  course  had  to  give  up  his 
college  professorship  which  furnished  himself  and  family  with  bread, 
and  was  consequently  plunged  into  the  deepest  poverty.  He  ap- 
plied for  a  position  in  the  college  of  Lausanne.  But  there  was  no 
vacancy  there.  He  moved  on  to  Bale  where  he  became  proof-reader 
in  a  printing-office  belonging  to  one  Oporin.  His  salary  was  so 
small,  however,  that,  in  order  to  have  any  fire  at  home,  he  had  to 
fish  out  the  wood  found  floating  down  the  Rhine.  But  this  terrible 
struggle  for  material  existence  was  not  the  only  burden  he  had  to 


SEBASTIEN  CASTELLION  AND  RELIGIOUS  TOLERATION.  101 

bear.  Calvin's  hatred  followed  him  everywhere.  The  public  letters 
of  the  Genevese  autocrat  were  widely  circulated  and  all  of  them  con- 
tained extravagant  denunciations  of  Castellion.  Finally,  in  1552, 
this  martyr  to  -freethought  found  a  momentary  respite  and  became 
Reader  in  Greek  at  the  Bale  university.  Though  he  still  lived  in  the 
most  frugal  manner,  the  wolf  was  no  longer  at  the  door.  But  this 
bitter  experience  did  not  weaken  Castellion's  moral  courage.  At 
that  very  moment  he  was  girding  his  loins  for  a  still  fiercer  struggle 
with  his  enemies  in  the  church. 

When  Calvin  put  to  death  Servetus,  only  two  men  in  all  Hel- 
vetia dared  lift  up  their  voices  in  public  protest.  One  of  these  was, 
of  course,  Castellion,  who,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  Calvin  had 
many  and  powerful  friends  in  Bale  and  that  he  endangered  his 
newly-acquired  position  at  the  University,  came  out  in  a  bold  mani- 
festo. It  was  indeed  published  under  an  assumed  name — Martin 
Bellie — but  everybody  knew  who  the  real  author  was.  In  order 
that  his  pamphlet  should  obtain  the  widest  possible  publicity,  he 
issued  it  in  both  Latin  and  French,  dedicating  the  first  to  the  Count 
of  Hesse  and  the  second  to  the  Duke  of  Wurtemberg,  whose  do- 
minions had  accepted  the  Lutheran  Reformation.  This  act  brought 
down  upon  him  a  new  storm. 

When  Castellion  gave  to  the  world  his  "  De  Haereticis  "  and 
his  "Traite"  des  H  critiques" — the  pamphlets  just  referred  to — his  ene- 
mies had  not  yet  forgotten  the  two  prefaces  which  he  had  placed  at 
the  head  of  his  Latin  and  French  editions  of  the  Bible.  These  were 
the  first  manifestos  published  in  favor  of  liberty  of  conscience  ;  the 
"De  Haereticis"  and  its  French  version  were  the  second.  This 
latter  work  went  through  many  editions  at  Magdeburg,  Strassburg, 
and  other  European  cities.  It  was  also  known  as  the  "Farrago 
Bellii,"  because  of  the  mass  of  texts  which  it  contained,  borrowed 
from  the  early  fathers,  the  chief  reformers,  from  Luther  himself, 
and  all  of  which  advocated  toleration.  Even  Calvin  was  represented 
by  one  text,  rather  equivocal  however,  in  which  he  preaches  the 
employment  of  "science  and  not  force,"  and  in  which  he  speaks  of 
"the  celestial  melody  of  the  Holy  Ghost."  Beze,  the  alter  ego  of 
Calvin,  answered  Castellion  in  a  pamphlet,  which  declares  that  it  is 


102  THE  MONIST. 

the  right  and  duty  of  the  Church  to  put  heretics  to  death.  This  was 
the  old  doctrine  of  Rome  and  the  Spanish  Inquisition.  All  this 
made  Castellion's  pseudonym  so  famous  that  Bellianism  and  Belli- 
anist  became  common  terms  in  the  religious  discussions  of  that  age, 
and  continued  to  be  such  for  years  afterwards. 

Apropos  of  this  pamphlet,  Professor  Rambaud  says  :  "  It  should 
be  noted  that  Castellion  is  not  a  sceptic  like  Rabelais  and  Mon- 
tesquieu, not  a  politician  like  the  author  of  the  '  Satire  Me'nippe'e.' 
He  is  as  firm  in  the  faith  as  the  early  martyrs  of  the  Reformation, 
as  sturdy  a  theologian  as  Calvin  or  Theodore  de  Beze.  His  taking 
up  the  principle  of  toleration  was  not  brought  about  by  feelings  of 
French  patriotism,  of  political  wisdom,  of  humanity,  nor  even  of 
pure  Christian  charity.  No,  it  was  from  a  scrupulous  study  of  texts 
that  he  was  led  to  accept  this  doctrine.  It  was  his  conviction  that 
toleration  was  the  veritable  spirit  of  Christianity  and  the  Reforma- 
tion. It  was  from  theology  itself  that  he  drew  his  arguments  against 
the  excesses  of  theologians." 

In  the  "De  Hsereticis"  no  mention  is  made  of  the  destruction 
of  Servetus,  which  really  called  forth  the  pamphlet ;  or  at  least  it 
contains  only  very  vague  allusions  to  this  crime.  But  this  act  of 
momentary  abstention  was  not  to  be  taken  to  mean  that  Castellion 
feared  to  attack  his  powerful  foe  in  this  vulnerable  spot.  Scarcely 
was  the  ink  dry  on  the  other  pamphlet  when  he  finished  the  manu- 
script of  "  Contra  Libellum  Calvini,"  in  which  he  turns  his  attention 
to  Calvin  himself  and  his  recent  reprehensible  act.  He  says  :  "  To- 
day John  Calvin  enjoys  great  power,  and  I  would  wish  it  still  greater 
if  he  were  only  animated  by  more  kindly  sentiments.  But  his  latest 
action  is  a  bloody  murder,  and  his  latest  publication  is  a  direct 
menace  to  the  lives  of  many  pious  men."  Then  the  brave  author 

gives  the  details  of  the  execution  and  refutes  point  by  point  Calvin's 

*     , 

theories.  But  neither  this  work,  nor  the  ''Annotation  sur  1'Epitre 
aux  Romains, "  which  was  written  in  the  same  spirit,  could  be 
printed.  Castellion's  former  publications  had  created  too  great  a 
sensation  and  had  worked  too  much  harm  to  the  Calvinists,  to  per- 
mit him  to  continue  to  print  ad  libitum.  So  the  censor  was  called 
upon  to  act,  and  even  in  the  free  city  of  Bale  he  was  strong  enough 


SEBASTIEN  CASTELLION  AND  RELIGIOUS  TOLERATION.  103 

to  suppress  Castellion.  The  tractate  circulated  only  in  manuscript 
copies. 

Castellion  was  always  on  the  side  of  humanity  and  gentleness, 
as  opposed  to  the  cruelty  and  barbarism  of  his  age.  Torture,  as  a 
means  of  forcing  confessions  from  accused  persons,  was  then  coun- 
tenanced by  all  the  jurists  of  Europe,  and  religious  innovators  might 
be  pardoned,  perhaps,  if  they  accepted  the  practice.  But  at  least 
one  voice  was  raised  against  it,  and  it  spoke  exactly  as  did  Mon- 
tesquieu and  Voltaire  two  centuries  later.  Here,  as  everywhere, 
Castellion  was  to  be  found  opposed  to  Calvin.  Somebody  objected  : 
"But  many  guilty  persons  will  escape  if  torture  is  abolished." 
Castellion  answered  :  "No  law  calls  for  the  punishment  of  unknown 
crimes  ;  be  contented  to  punish  those  that  are  known." 

Calvin,  as  everybody  knows,  believed  in  predestination.  Cas- 
tellion took  up  the  other  view.  Thereupon  the  former  attacked  him 
again  and  directed  Beze  to  do  the  same.  "  How  long  will  you  suffer 
to  dwell  in  your  midst  this  shameful  fellow,  this  clot  of  mud,  this 
pest?"  wrote  Beze  to  the  magistrates  of  Bale.  Castellion,  in  his 
turn,  called  upon  the  magistrates  of  Geneva,  but  mark  the  difference 
of  tone  and  purpose.  He  said  to  these  recreants,  while  he  urged 
them  to  become  men  and  put  an  end  to  this  intolerance  :  "  For  the 
love  of  Christ,  I  beg  of  you,  I  conjure  you,  to  leave  me  in  peace  and 
to  cease  persecuting  me.  Grant  me  the  freedom  of  my  faith  and  the 
freedom  to  profess  it,  just  as  I  do  in  respect  to  you  and  yours.  If 
there  are  those  who  separate  themselves  from  you,  do  not  declare 
forthwith  that  they  turn  their  backs  on  the  truth,  do  not  fall  upon 
them  as  though  they  were  blasphemers.  Taking  religion  as  a  whole, 
I  am  not  in  disaccord  with  you.  It  is  the  same  Christian  religion 
which  I,  like  you,  delight  to  serve.  On  certain  points  of  interpreta- 
tion only,  I,  with  several  others,  hold  different  views  from  you.  Let 
the  most  learned,  then,  be  also  the  most  charitable  !  "  These  words 
sound  as  if  they  were  written  to-day,  instead  of  over  three  centuries 
ago.  One  might  think  them  to  have  fallen  from  the  pen  of  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Briggs  !  This  shows  how  far  in  advance  of  his  time  was  Se"bas- 
tien  Castellion,  or  rather  how  far  behind  the  times  is  modern  Pro- 
testantism. 


104  THE  MON1ST. 

Castellion  was  not  simply  a  musty  theologian  ;  he  looked  upon 
religion  with  the  mind  of  a  practical  statesman.  At  the  time  when 
the  civil  and  religious  wars  were  raging  in  France,  he  wrote,  in  1562: 
"  Keep  up  the  two  forms  of  religion — the  Roman  Catholic  and  the 
Protestant ;  let  both  be  free,  so  that  everybody  may  choose,  without 
constraint,  the  one  he  prefers."  This  was  the  view  Henry  IV.  took 
of  the  matter  in  1598,  when  he  promulgated  the  edict  of  Nantes  ; 
and  this  is  the  view  liberal  France  has  been  striving  to  maintain 
ever  since,  even  down  to  the  present  year  of  grace. 

''With  Castellion  on  the  one  hand,"  says  Professor  Rambaud, 
"and  Calvin,  backed  by  Theodore  de  Beze,  on  the  other,  the  con- 
ditions of  this  theological  duel  were  not  equal.  The  latter  were  sup- 
ported by  the  State,  by  the  public  authorities,  by  the  courts,  and  by 
the  public  executioner.  They  had  with  them  the  presses  ;  and, 
more  than  this,  by  the  aid  of  the  Geneva  censor  and  the  information 
which  was  furnished  them  through  the  censorships  in  the  other  Hel- 
vetian states,  they  could  prevent  the  publication  and  circulation  of 
the  replies  and  attacks  of  their  opponents.  Several  of  Castellion's 
most  powerful  tractates  never  saw  the  light  in  book-form.  He  was 
not  even  secure  from  bodily  harm  even  at  Bale.  In  1563  an  attempt 
was  made  to  get  him  implicated  in  a  trial  brought  against  a  family 
of  Anabaptists  which  ended  with  the  disinterring  and  the  burning  of 
the  bones  of  one  David  Joris.  At  Bale  at  least,  the  autos-da-fe  were 
made  only  with  dead  bodies." 

Insulted  by  men  who  were  once  his  friends  and  teachers,  railed 
at  by  the  multitude,  continually  in  danger  of  finding  himself  and 
family  deprived  of  their  daily  bread,  his  very  life  threatened,  Cas- 
tellion, worn  out  by  bodily  deprivation,  mental  strain,  and  moral 
disappointment,  died  in  1563  at  the  early  age  of  48,  just  as  he  was 
on  the  point  of  losing  his  university  chair  and  of  being  banished 
from  Helvetia.  His  enemies  eagerly  took  upon  themselves  to  preach 
his  funeral  oration.  Theodore  de  Beze  recalled  how  he  had  prophe- 
sied to  him  that  "the  Saviour  would  soon  punish  him  for  his  blas- 
phemies." Bullinger  wrote  :  "Castellion  is  dead.  Good  !  "  Gwalter 
remarked  that  in  order  not  to  have  to  plead  his  cause  before  the 
Bale  Senate,  Castellion  had  "appealed  to  Rhadamanthus." 


SEBASTIEN  CASTELLION  AND  RELIGIOUS  TOLERATION. 


105 


For  a  century  and  a  half  after  his  death  Castellion's  writings 
were  known  to  the  learned  and  the  theologians.  His  books  and 
manuscripts  were  read  by  the  pious.  In  the  sixteenth  and  seven- 
teenth centuries  two  of  the  greatest  Protestant  sects — the  Socian- 
ists  and  the  Arminians- — claimed  him  as  one  of  theirs.  The  liberal 
wing  of  French  Protestantism  is  a  son  of  his  doctrine,  while  here  in 
the  United  States  many  of  our  churches  may  look  upon  him  as  one  of 
their  founders.  In  M.  Buisson's  final  chapter  entitled  ''Posthumous 
Influences,"  attention  is  called  to  the  close  union  between  Castellion's 
doctrines  and  those  held  by  Roger  Williams  and  Anne  Hutchinson. 
Of  him  then  it  may  be  truly  said  that  though  the  body  be  dead  the 
spirit  still  liveth. 

M.  Buisson's  first  volume  contains  a  portrait  of  Castellion  drawn 
by  the  distinguished  French  artist  Jean  Paul  Laurens  after  the  por- 
trait engraved  for  Castellion's  Latin  Bible,  edition  of  1729.  This 
is  the  only  portrait  of  him  known  to  exist.  "To  this  cold  and  dry 
engraving,"  says  M.  Buisson,  "M.  Jean  Paul  Laurens  has  been 
able  to  give  life  without  detracting  from  its  austerity."  We  are  fur- 
ther told  that  the  artist  undertook  the  work  out  of  "sympathy,  awak- 
ened after  reading  several  chapters,  for  the  humble  hero  of  this 
book." 

THEODORE  STANTON. 


THE  GERMAN  UNIVERSITIES  AT  THE  WORLD'S 

FAIR. 

HOW  much  has  been  said  and  sung  of  the  academic  liberty  of 
German  universities  !  Academic  liberty  means  freedom  of 
research.  It  implies  the  independence  both  of  professors  and  stu- 
dents. The  professor  is  not  controlled  in  his  work  ;  he  is  not  com- 
manded what  to  do  or  to  teach;  he  is  thoroughly  independent  and,  he 
cannot  be  removed  from  his  place.  He  investigates  as  he  pleases 
and  he  lectures  to  his  auditors  as  he  sees  fit.  Nor  does  the  pro- 
fessor in  turn  exercise  any  control  over  his  students.  They  study 
if  they  choose  to  do  so,  and,  if  they  prefer  it,  they  may  neglect  their 
studies.  And  the  students  do  not  hesitate  to  make  use  of  their  liberty. 
Many  talented  youths  who  do  not  possess  sufficient  self-discipline  go 
to  the  wall,  under  this  system.  This  is  a  pity,  but  so  long  as  the 
principle  of  academic  liberty  prevails,  it  cannot  be  helped,  and,  for 
that  reason,  no  one  in  Germany  proposes  a  change  in  the  principles 
according  to  which  the  universities  are  administered. 

Academic  liberty  has  left  an  indelible  imprint  upon  the  German 
university  ;  it  has  shaped  its  life,  institutions,  and  by-laws ;  yet  the 
most  important  result  it  has  produced  is  what  may  be  called  ''the 
scientific  spirit  of  the  German  university.  While  the  French  and 
English  universities  are  advanced  schools,  whose  business  it  is  to 
educate  or  to  teach,  the  German  university  is  above  all  other  things 
a  temple  of  science.  The  appointment  and  advancement  of  a  Ger- 
man professor  does  not  depend  upon  his  ability  to  teach  but  almost 
exclusively  upon  his  accomplishments  as  an  investigator.  Had  Dar- 
win lived  in  Germany  he  would  most  likely  have  been  found  among 


THE  GERMAN   UNIVERSITIES  AT  THE  WORLD'S   FAIR.  107 

the  university  professors,  for  Germany's  greatest  thinkers,  with  few 
exceptions,  have  lived  and  completed  their  lives  in  academic  circles. 
The  German  professor  is  first  an  investigator  and  then  a  teacher. 
German  universities  are  institutions  devoted  to  the  search  for  truth, 
and  the  scientist,  the  philosopher,  the  searchers  for  truth  serve  at 
the  same  time  as  instructors  of  the  German  youth. 

The  German  university  consolidates  scientific  research  in  a  great 
cooperative  body  of  scholars.  Thus  it  is  adapted  to  give  specialised 
instruction  in  all  the  various  branches  of  science  and  yet  it  keeps 
every  student  in  close  communion  with  all  other  studies,  so  that  the 
unity  of  knowledge  is  not  lost  from  sight.  In  this  way  a  scientific 
atmosphere  is  created  which  makes  the  labors  of  every  one  that 
breathes  it  more  efficient.  An  isolated  thinker,  even  if  he  had  all 
the  books  and  instruments  of  his  specialty  and  of  collateral  sciences 
as  convenient  as  he  finds  them  at  the  university,  cannot  accomplish  as 
much  as  the  man  who  receives,  almost  without  his  being  conscious 
of  it,  innumerable  suggestions  and  helps  from  his  colleagues  in  other 
branches,  and  is,  as  it  were,  carried  on  the  wings  of  their  common 
aspirations. 

The  German  university  system  has  of  ten  been  criticised,  but  criti- 
cism has  only  given  it  strength  and  shown  its  great  advantages.  The 
question  has  been  raised,  Would  not  teachers  be  better  as  educators 
than  savants  ?  Many  professors  are  incompetent  as  instructors  and 
even  as  lecturers  !  Nevertheless,  the  direct  contact  of  the  students 
with  the  great  representatives  of  scientific  inquiry  outweighs  all  dis- 
advantages. The  German  youth  receives  the  most  powerful  stimuli 
and  invaluable  suggestions  from  his  personal  intercourse  with  the 
thinkers  of  his  time. 

All  the  members  of  the  German  universities  jealously  guard 
their  academic  liberty  and  look  upon  it  as  one  of  the  most  sacred 
heirlooms  of  the  German  nation.  And  rightly  so,  for  it  creates  bold- 
ness of  research,  it  promotes  progress,  and  has  in  times  of  need 
proved  the  last  redoubt  even  of  political  freedom. 

Academic  liberty  makes  the  German  university  of  kin  to  the 
constitution  of  our  country.  No  wonder  that  between  the  German 
university  and  the  United  States  a  deep  sympathy  obtains.  We 


IO8  THE  MON1ST. 

Americans  at  least  have,  on  our  part,  always  regarded  the  German 
university"  system  as  the  best  realisation  of  the  noblest  ideal  of  all 
higher  education.  We  have  not  tried  slavishly  to  copy  it,  but  we 
imitate  it,  and  attempt  to  adapt  its  methods  to  our  special  wants. 
There  are  no  doubt  features  that  cannot  be  recommended,  but  cer- 
tainly the  spirit  that  animates  the  German  university  must  and  will 
find  and  to  some  extent  has  already  found  a  home  on  this  side  of  the 
Atlantic,  in  the  country  of  political  liberty  and  humanitarian  aspira- 
tions. 

* 
*  * 

Considering  the  importance  of  the  German  universities  to  our 
country,  we  joyfully  greet  their  well-planned  and  excellently  arranged 
exhibit  at  the  World's  Fair  in  Chicago,  and  here  offer  to  our  readers 
a  brief  review  of  this  unique  display  of  the  ways,  the  means,  and  the 
summarised  results  of  German  science. 

Where  that  grand  bronze  statue  *  of  Germania  on  horseback, 
accompanied  on  her  right  hand  by  Strength,  on  her  left  by  Renown, 
towers  above  the  German  exhibit  in  the  Liberal  Arts  and  Manufac- 
tures Building,  a  double  stair-case  leads  the  visitor  directly  to  the 
heart  of  the  place  allotted  to  the  German  universities.  Here  we 
stand  upon  their  court  of  honor.  We  find  no  exhibit  in  the  proper 
sense  of  the  word.  There  are,  however,  some  portraits  and  statues 
chastely  ornamented  with  a  few  gilt  acorn,  myrtle,  and  laurel  wreaths. 
Alexander  von  Humboldt's  portrait  in  large  proportions  stands  promi- 
nently before  us.  Very  attractive  are  the  oil  pictures  of  Von  Ranke, 
the  historian,  Wilhelm  Weber,  Kekule",  and  A.  v.  Hofmann,  the 
chemist.  There  is  a  bronze  statue  of  Kant  in  full  figure  and  a  num- 
ber of  busts,  among  which  we  note  in  the  centre  the  young  Emperor  ; 
around  him  and  along  the  aisle,  Helmholtz,  Kirchhoff,  Luther, 
Schleiermacher,  Leibnitz,  Liebig,  Gauss,  and  others. 

A  glass  case  contains  autographs  of  the  very  greatest  Ger- 
mans. There  are  two  documents,  the  one  signed  by  a  flourish  of 
Charlemagne,  the  other  sealed  by  Otto  the  Great  with  his  own  hand  ; 
letters  of  Luther,  Frederick  the  Great,  William  the  First,  Goethe, 

*  The  statue  is  destined  to  adorn  the  Reichstag  building  in  Berlin. 


THE  GERMAN   UNIVERSITIES  AT  THE  WORLD'S   FAIR.  109 

Schiller,  Kant,  Lessing,  Grimm,  Schleiermacher,  and  Winckel- 
mann.*  Plans,  elevations,  and  photographs  of  the  various  university 
buildings  in  big  folios  bound  in  leather  are  exhibited  on  desks. 
Near  by  are  the  libraries,  showing  their  methods  of  shelving  and 
cataloguing  books  ;f  to  the  left  we  have  the  physical  and  math- 
ematical, to  the  right  the  bacteriological  and  physiological  sections. 

There  are  several  monumental  works  of  German  patience  and 
industry,  such  as  Grimm's  "  Worterbuch"  and  the  various  "Corpora 
Inscriptionum."  We  find  among  them  Wenker's  "  Sprachatlas,"  a 
new  enterprise  which  shows  in  a  simple  and  systematic  manner  the 
linguistic  boundaries  of  Europe.  Three  hundred  characteristic  words 
have  been  selected  and  their  pronunciation  in  the  various  villages 
carefully  noted  down  by  the  schoolmasters,  according  to  the  direc- 
tions of  a  circular  letter.  The  result  is  easily  surveyed  in  the  maps. 
The  work  is  as  yet  incomplete,  and  it  is  estimated  that  it  will  com- 
prise about  nine  hundred  folio  charts. 

The  mathematical  section  surprises  us  with  its  wealth  of  math- 
ematical models.  French  mathematicians  in  the  Fifties,  still  under 
the  influence  of  Monge,  were  the  first  to  understand  the  great  value 
of  embodying  in  visible  form  their  abstract  space-constructions. 
Not  he  who  computes  with  arithmetical  methods  but  he  who  has  an 
intuitive  conception  of  spatial  relations  is  the  true  mathematician, 
and  how  can  the  latter  quality  be  better  developed  than  by  models 
that  show  at  a  glance  all  the  complexities  which  it  is  sometimes  so 
difficult  to  realise  by  abstract  imagination.  German  mathematicians 
have  learned  from  the  French,  and  it  appears  that  they  now  excel 
their  masters.  It  is  astonishing  how  much  has  been  accomplished 
in  this  branch  of  education  in  the  last  twenty  years. 

There  are  several  cases  of  Brill's  models,  many  of  which  owe 
their  origin  to  the  exercises  which  were  held  at  Munich  by  Pro- 

*  It  is  not  our  purpose  to  enter  into  details,  but  we  may  mention  incidentally 
that  some  of  the  letters  admirably  characterise  the  men  and  the  nation  to  which 
they  belong,  in  their  noblest  sentiments ;  especially  the  letter  of  Frederick  the 
Great  ;  while  others,  for  instance  Kant's  letter,  thanking  a  friend  for  a  gift  of 
Teltauer  turnips,  are  of  a  trivial  nature. 

f  For  the  details  of  German  Library  institutions  consult  Dr.  Dziatzko's  Dcnk- 
sc/irift,  and  P.  Schwenke's  Addresslnuh,  both  on  exhibit. 


IIO  THE   MONIST. 

fessors  Brill  and  Klein  in  1877-1885,  showing  surfaces  of  the  second, 
third,  and  fourth  degrees,  "  Kummer  "-surfaces,  cyclides,  surfaces  of 
constant  curvature,  geodetic  lines,  asymptotic  curves  to  surfaces, 
and  other  mathematical  forms.  The  thread  models  (made  by  Wie- 
ner of  Karlsruhe  and  Karl  Rohn  of  Dresden)  present  a  beautiful 
appearance  and  are  especially  calculated  to  excite  the  curiosity  of 
the  uninitiated.  Professor  Schwarz  of  Berlin  shows  us  a  few  Rie- 
mann-surfaces  in  bodily  realisation.  Dr.  Sievert  (teacher  at  the 
Gymnasium  at  Nurnberg)  materialises  surfaces  of  positive  curvature. 
The  wire  models  of  Dr.  Victor  Schlegel  (of  the  Gymnasium  at  Ha- 
gen)  represent  projections  of  four-dimensional  bodies  in  three- 
dimensional  space.  There  are  also  crystal  models  and  graphical 
diagrams  of  various  descriptions. 

The  practical  importance  of  a  vivid  mathematical  imagination, 
to  educate  which  these  models  are  excellently  adapted,  lies  mainly 
in  the  fields  of  mechanics  and  physics. 

The  energies  of  the  mathematician,  formerly  so  much  occupied 
by  computations,  are  now  more  employed  in  the  properly  mathemati- 
cal fields,  while  comptometers  will  alleviate  his  work  by  calculating 
his  examples  with  less  trouble  and  with  unfailing  mechanical  accuracy. 

We  find  the  Meyer  addition  machine,  and  a  number  of  comp- 
tometers, among  them  Grimme's,  the  Russo-German  Brunswiga,  and 
a  very  interesting  instrument  called  the  Selling  Re chenmas chine .  The 
latter  is  built  on  the  principle  of  the  lazy  tongs,  or,  as  the  Germans 
call  it,  the  "Nurnberg  shears."  It  is  known  that  if  the  axis  in  the 
first  link  be  moved  one  unit,  the  second  will  move  two,  the  third 
three,  the  fourth  four,  and  so  on.  The  Selling  machine  contains  ten 
seven-linked  lazy  tongs  with  wheels  for  the  decimal  transfer  and  can 
execute  in  a  purely  mechanical  way  multiplications  and  divisions  of 
any  number  of  nine  figures  with  any  number  of  seven  figures.  The 
result  appears  typewritten  on  paper  up  to  thirteen  places,  which  for 
common  use  will  be  sufficient.  A  few  numbers  of  frequent  occur- 
rence, such  as  TT,  can  be  called  up  by  pressing  a  certain  button. 

The  machine  will  have  a  great  fascination  for  Americans.  Its 
principle  is  simple  enough,  but  its  application  is  still  very  complex, 
so  that  its  practicability  must  remain  doubtful.  At  least,  it  seems 


THE  GERMAN  UNIVERSITIES  AT  THE  WORLD'S  FAIR.  I  I  I 

to  us,  that  such  American  machines  as  the  Felt  comptometer  are 
better  for  practical  purposes.* 

The  physical  section  contains  many  historical  curiosities,  such 
as  Guericke's  air-pump  and  the  Magdeburg  hemispheres,  part  of  the 
wire  of  the  very  first  telegraph,  invented  by  Gauss  and  for  practical 
purposes  improved  by  Morse,  and,  in  addition,  many  original  in- 
struments of  Weber,  Gauss,  Kirchhoff,  and  Helmholtz. 

At  the  time  when  Gauss  made  his  telegraphic  experiments  he 
wrote  under  his  picture  these  English  words  : 

"  Thou,  Nature,  art  my  goddess  ! 
To  thy  laws  my  services  are  bound." 

The  psychological  department  contains  instruments  invented 
and  used  by  Helmholtz,  C.  Stumpf  (Munich),  W.  Wundt  (Leipsic), 
Goldscheider  (Berlin),  Ewald  Hering  (Prague),  and  Ebbinghaus 
(Berlin). 

At  the  other  end  of  the  University  exhibition  we  find  the  ana- 
tomical section.  There  are  microtomes  of  different  make,  and  sev- 
eral good  preparations.  The  anatomical  models  are  good,  but  do 
not  reach  the  neatness  and  accuracy  of  detail  which  we  admire  in 
Dr.  Auzoux's  "clastic  anatomy"  at  Paris. 

Professor  Flechsig's  hand-made  diagram  of  the  nervous  paths 
in  the  nervous  system  deserves  particular  attention,  embodying,  as 
it  does,  the  very  latest  results,  most  of  which  were  made,  by  Flechsig 
himself.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  this  chart,  with  its  manuscript  ex- 
planations covering  no  more  than  twenty  or  thirty  manuscript  pages, 
will  soon  be  published,  so  that  it  may  be  accessible  to  all  interested 
in  the  anatomy  of  the  brain. 

One  staircase  higher  leads  us  to  the  Botany  exhibit,  which  ap- 
pears in  the  shape  of  large-sized  flower  models  ;  to  the  Zoology 
exhibit,  showing  hand-made  wall  pictures  of  apes,  while  Derma- 
tology wisely  covers  the  most  important  part  of  its  demonstrations. 

*  The  Brunswiga  works  by  a  crank  ;  it  adds  and  subtracts,  multiplies  and  di- 
vides. In  the  Felt  comptometer  the  keys  perform  the  work  automatically  ;  in  ad- 
dition, this  machine  finds  the  square  and  cube  roots  of  numbers.  It  seems  to  be 
much  used  in  business.  Cornell  University,  I  am  informed,  employs  three  Felt 
comptometers  in  its  various  departments,  while  a  fourth  one  serves  for  purely  edu- 
cational purposes. 


112  THE  MONIST. 

We  must  resist  the  temptation  to  describe  at  length  the  exhibits 
of  other  sciences,  such  as  astronomy,  with  its  various  branches,  chem- 
istry, mineralogy,  hygiene,  surgery,  ophthalmology,  and  others, 
and  will  merely  state  that  the  bacteriological  department  exercises  a 
great  attraction  for  physicians  and  laymen.  There  are  the  vials, 
tubes,  and  hatching-stoves  of  Koch  and  his  colleagues  ;  there  are 
the  nests  and  colonies  of  the  various  pure  cultures  in  bodily  pres- 
ence ;  there  are  the  photographs  of  these  criminals  a  thousand  times 
magnified  ;  and  the  white  powder  exhibited  in  tubes  and  displayed 
in  one  of  the  cases  contains  the  very  poisons  with  which  they  bring 
about  their  nefarious  results.  A  small  case  in  the  corner  of  the  room 
shows  us  the  antidotes,  which,  according  to  experiments  made  on 
animals,  will  neutralise  the  effects  of  the  tetanus  and  some  other 

bacilli. 

* 
*  * 

In  addition  to  these  exhibits,  the  German  universities  have  given 
to  the  world  a  two-volume  digest  of  large  octavo  size  which  in  a  few 
more  than  a  thousand  pages  briefly  reviews  the  work  accomplished 
in  the  various  branches  of  science.  "These  accounts,"  so  we  read 
in  the  preface,  "  are  not  intended  to  recapitulate  the  progress  of  sci- 
ence generally,  but  only  to  indicate  how  far  the  German  universities 
have  contributed  to  it.  That,  accordingly,  the  merits  and  accom- 
plishments of  foreign  science  were  excluded  from  detailed  recogni- 
tion and  appreciation  must  of  course  not  be  interpreted  as  the  result 
of  a  desire  to  make  the  work  of  the  German  universities  unduly 
prominent.  On  the  contrary,  the  German  universities  will  remain 
fully  conscious  of  how  much  they  owe  in  their  scientific  aspirations 
to  the  labors  of  other  nations." 

The  editor  of  the  work  is  Prof.  W.  Lexis,  the  prominent  Econ- 
omist of  Gottingen.  The  fifst  volume  begins  with  an  essay  on  the 
German  university  by  F.  Paulsen  of  Berlin  ;  it  is  a  fascinating  de- 
scription of  its  history  and  present  conditions  (pp.  i-m)  supple- 
mented with  statistical  tables  by  J.  Conrad,  of  Halle  (pp.  111-168). 
The  special  sciences  are  arranged  according  to  the  faculties  and  are 
reviewed  as  follows  : 

Theology  is  divided  into  two  parts.      The  Evangelical  faith  is 


THE   GERMAN  UNIVERSITIES  AT  THE  WORLD'S   FAIR.  113 

represented  by  E.  Haupt,  E.  Kautzsch,  F.  Loofs,  M.  Kahler,  and  H. 
Hering,  while  the   Catholic   doctrine   is  treated   by  G.  Hoberg,  J. 
Felten,  B.  Fechtrup,  P.  Schanz,  F.  X.  Reiner,  and  H.  Keller. 
Professor  Haupt  says  (p.  180)  : 

' '  The  theological  faculties,  though  in  point  of  form  completely  free,  are  yet  a 
real  coadjutor  of  the  practical  work  of  the  Evangelical  Church.  If  conflicts  arise — 
and  in  our  day  they  frequently  do  arise — between  their  work  and  that  of  practical 
ecclesiastical  circles  ;  if  it  is  complained  that  intellectual  critique  now  almost  exclu- 
sively occupies  the  time  of  students  and  that  the  young  people  are  unfitted  for  ser- 
vice to  the  congregations  of  the  church  :  the  academical  theologians  will  certainly 
not  deny  that  many  imperfections  still  adhere  to  their  work.  But  they  are  convinced 
that  any  one-sidedness  that  is  thus  produced  will  be  overcome  by  the  further  scien- 
tific and  religious  education  of  the  students  and  especially  by  their  work  in  pastoral 
fields.  In  fine,  we  must  have  patience,  and  must  look  for  reconciliation  between 
faith  and  science,  in  the  individual  as  well  as  in  the  whole  church,  from  a  steady 
cooperation  of  these  two  factors,  and  see  that  such  a  reconciliation  can  only  be 
slowly  and  gradually  effected.  Theological  science  is  an  integral  part  of  the  totality 
of  science,  an  integral  aspect  of  church-life  generally,  and  finally,  a  means  of  creat- 
ing in  the  holders  of  practical  church-offices  independence  of  judgment  and  sure- 
ness  of  action." 

The  position  of  Roman  Catholic  theology  is  greatly  simplified. 
Professor  Hoberg  regards  Franz  Kaulen's  treatment  of  exegesis  as 
epoch-making.  "Kaulen,"  he  says,  "defines  biblical  isagogics  as 
a  justification  of  the  ecclesiastical  doctrine  anent  inspiration  and  the 
canonical  character  of  the  Scriptures,  therefore,  subsuming  it  under 
apologetics."  "Thus,"  he  adds,  "it  acquires  a  strictly  scientific 
character,  so  that  this  form  of  treatment  will  forever  serve  the  Catholic 
Isagogist  as  a  model." 

The  problem  which  perplexes  Evangelical  theology  does  not 
exist  to  Hoberg.  As  if  intending  a  reply  to  the  above-quoted  pas- 
sage of  his  evangelical  colleague,  he  says  (p.  240)  : 

"If  the  works  of  Catholic  exegetists  in  the  Old  Testament  field  fall  short  in  num- 
ber of  those  of  non-Catholic  scholars,  this  fact  is  chiefly  due  to  the  circumstance 
that  biblical  research  in  the  Catholic  sense  rejects  as  a  matter  of  principle  many 
theories  of  non-Catholic  research,  and,  consequently,  has  no  reason  to  treat  these 
theories  scientifically." 

It  is  encouraging  to  see  that  Professor  Haupt  does  not  despair 
of  a  final  satisfactory  solution  of  the  theological  problem. 


114  THE  MON1ST. 

Prof.  O.  Fischer,  of  Breslau,  has  written  as  an  introduction  to 
the  section  of  jurisprudence  an  essay  on  the  general  study  of  law. 
Ernst  Eck,  of  Berlin,  treats  of  Roman  law,  which,  we  ought  to  add, 
is  unduly  neglected  in  England  as  well  as  in  America.  The  other 
juridical  branches  are  represented  by  H.  Brunner,  of  Berlin  ;  E. 
Strohal,  of  Gottingen ;  K.  Kossack,  of  Freiburg  i.  B. ;  O.  Fischer, 
of  Breslau  ;  F.  E.  von  Liszt,  of  Halle  ;  G.  Meyer,  of  Heidelberg ; 
F.  Von  Martitz,  of  Tubingen  ;  L.  von  Bar,  of  Gottingen  ;  R.  Sohm, 
of  Leipsic  ;  J.  Kohler,  of  Berlin  ;  and  A.  Merkel,  of  Strassburg. 
The  statistical  appendix  is  by  Guttstadt,  of  Berlin. 

The  philosophical  faculty,  which  in  almost  all  German  uni- 
versities comprises  everything  that  does  not  belong  to  the  three 
others,  is  divided  into  two  groups,  the  humaniora,  and  mathematics 
and  the  natural  sciences.  J.  Baumann  of  Gottingen  offers  an  ad- 
mirably condensed  synopsis  of  the  evolution  of  German  philosophy 
since  Leibnitz.  Wundt  describes  the  psychophysical  institutes  and 
their  work.  Philology,  including  history  and  archaeology,  is  repre- 
sented by  N.  v.  Wilamowitz-Mollendorff  (Classics),  K.  Weinhold 
(German),  A.  Brandl  (English),  A.  Tobler  (Romance),  E.  Sachau 
(Oriental),  F.  Kielhorn  (Sanskrit),  K.  Brugmann  (Comparative),  H. 
Zimmer  (Celtic).  Modern  History  is  treated  by  Th.  Lindner,  History 
of  Art  by  Hermann  Grimm,  and  Political  Science  by  H.  Dietzel 
(economy  and  finance),  E.  Gothein  (the  evolution  of  the  science  of 
economy),  and  W.  Lexis  (statistics). 

Mathematics  and  Natural  Science  constitute  a  faculty  of  their 
own  only  in  Tubingen,  Strassburg,  and  Heidelberg.  Professor  Lexis, 
the  editor  of  the  present  work,  found  it  convenient  to  treat  them  in 
a  special  section  which  appears  as  the  first  part  of  the  second  volume. 

Prof.  F.  Klein  sketches  the  tendencies  of  mathematical  inves- 
tigation during  the  last  two  centuries.  Gauss  inherited  all  the  tra- 
ditions of  Leibnitz,  Bernoulli,  Euler,  Lambert,  Lagrange,  D'Alem- 
bert,  and  Maupertuis.  Unsurpassed  in  exactness  of  proof,  he  intro- 
duced new  views  and  new  methods  and  he  again  imparted  his  spirit 
to  a  number  of  disciples  whose  mission  it  is  to  develop  in  harmoni- 
ous cooperation  the  various  branches  of  mathematics.  In  addition  to 
him  we  find  such  men  as  Jacobi,  Clebsch,  and  Dirichlet.  Jacobi's 


THE  GERMAN  UNIVERSITIES  AT  THE  WORLD'S  FAIR.  115 

maturest  work  is  his  theory  of  elliptical  functions  ;  Clebsch  received 
the  most  fruitful  suggestions  for  his  algebraic  conceptions  from 
the  English  mathematicians  Cayley  and  Sylvester.  Of  Dirichlet, 
whose  labors  were  closely  allied  with  French  thought,  may  be  men- 
tioned his  theory  of  numbers  and  his  mathematical  physics.  Grass- 
mann  stood  outside  the  academical  circles,  which  was  the  cause  of 
his  tardy  recognition.  Steiner,  a  more  isolated  thinker,  was  powerful 
through  his  original  one-sidedness.  Riemann  proceeds  from  Gauss 
and  Dirichlet,  whose  conceptions  he  combined  with  Cauchy's  ideas 
of  the  application  of  complex  variables  ;  Clebsch  forms  a  contrast ; 
he  is  complementary,  as  it  were,  to  Riemann ;  and  his  tireless 
energy  was  not  satisfied  with  his  academic  work.  He  founded  with 
C.  Neumann  the  Mathematische  Annalen,  a  magazine  which  still  ex- 
ists and  has  now  reached  its  forty-second  volume. 

In  addition  to  the  Gottingen  School  we  have  the  Berlin  School 
represented  by  Kummer,  Kronecker,  Weierstrass,  and  also  the  Poly- 
technica  which  are  the  main  home  of  those  mathematicians  who, 
according  to  the  French  ideal,  apply  mathematics  to  technical  in- 
dustry. Representative  of  this  latter  class  are  Redtenbacher  of 
Carlsruhe  and  Culmann  of  Zurich. 

We  pass  over  the  accounts  of  (II)  Astronomy  by  H.  Seeliger, 
(III)  Physics  by  A  Kundt,  (IV)  Chemistry  and  Chemical  Technol- 
ogy by  O.  Wallach,  (V)  Physical  Chemistry  by  W.  Ostwald,  (VI) 
Mineralogy  and  Crystallography  by  Liebisch,  (VII)  Geology  and 
Palaeontology  by  K.  v.  Zittel,  (VIII)  Botany  by  E.  Strasburger, 
(IX)  Zoology  and  Comparative  Anatomy  by  R.  Hertwig,  (X)  An- 
thropology by  J.  Ranke  and  Ethnology  by  E.  Grosse,  (XI)  Geo- 
graphy by  H.  Wagner,  (XII)  Meteorology  by  W.  v.  Bezold,  (XIII) 
Farming  by  J.  Kuhn,  (XIV)  and  Forestry  by  Professor  Lehr, — all 
of  which  contain  much  interesting  detail.  We  quote  one  passage  in 
full  because  we  trust  that  the  subject  commands  a  general  interest. 
Professor  Hertwig  concludes  his  article  as  follows  (pp.  109-111) : 

' '  We  should  acquire  a  very  imperfect  notion  of  the  course  of  development 
which  zoology  has  taken  in  this  century  in  German  universities,  if  we  were  not  to 
take  into  account  the  tremendous  influence  which  the  Darwinian  theory  has  exer- 
cised. In  no  country  did  this  theory  find  such  quick  acceptance,  in  no  country  has 


Il6  THE  MONIST.  ^ 

it  so  completely  dominated  scientific  life,  as  in  Germany.  It  may  be  said  that  to- 
day all  teachers  of  zoology  and  comparative  anatomy  are  more  or  less  pronounced 
adherents  of  the  idea  of  evolution.  Among  the  men  to  whom  this  rapid  introduction 
of  Darwinism  in  Germany  is  to  be  attributed,  is  to  be  mentioned,  above  all,  Ernst 
Haeckel,  who  in  many  treatises  and  especially  in  his  General  Morphology,  which  has 
deepened  the  spiritual  contents  of  zoology  in  many  directions,  has  done  more  for  the 
methodical  development  of  the  theory  than  any  other  inquirer.  Next  to  Haeckel, 
O.  Schmidt,  Weismann,  and  M.  Wagner  (of  Miinchen)  have  taken  a  prominent 
part  in  the  controversies  of  this  question. 

"  If  we  go  more  minutely  into  the  manner  in  which  Darwin  has  acted  on  German 
zoology,  two  elements  of  Darwinism  must  be  sharply  distinguished  :  (i)  the  theory 
of  descent,  which  it  has  in  common  with  earlier  theories  of  evolution  ;  and  (2)  the 
causal  establishment  of  descent  by  means  of  the  struggle  for  existence,  by  which  it 
is  distinguished  from  the  other  theories.  The  doctrine  of  the  struggle  for  life  has 
met  with  quite  unequal  assent  in  Germany.  One  energetic  champion  of  the  theory 
has  arisen  in  Weismann,  who  explains  the  transformation  of  species  wholly  by  this 
method,  rejecting  other  causes,  such  as  the  influence  of  environment  and  the  use 
and  non-use  of  organs  which  Lamarck  emphasises,  for  the  reason  that  acquired 
characters  are  not  hereditary.  On  the  other  hand,  there  have  been  no  lack  of  voices 
which  have  disclaimed  for  the  struggle  for  existence  all  influence  whatever  in  the 
development  of  species.  M.  Wagner  especially  has  opposed  the  Darwinian  theory, 
enunciating  and  defending  with  great  acuteness  the  doctrine  of  migration,  by  which 
new  species  can  have  arisen  only  through  geographical  isolation. 

"It  may  be  said  generally,  that  the  disputes  indicated  have  not  been  pursued 
with  the  same  ardor  by  German  zoologists  as  they  have,  for  instance,  in  England. 
For  German  zoology,  Darwinism  in  its  narrower  sense  stood  less  in  the  foreground 
than  the  theory  of  evolution  which  received  new  life  through  him.  Besides,  evolu- 
tion has  assumed  a  distinct  stamp  in  Germany,  and  one  which  is  deeply  grounded 
in  the  character  of  German  zoology. 

"The  train  of  thought  which  led  Darwin  to  the  enunciation  of  his  theory  was 
preeminently  the  train  of  thought  of  the  systematician,  who  sought  to  acquire  a  clear 
conception  of  the  value  of  the  notions  species  and  variety.  In  Germany,  however, 
it  is  the  morphological  side  of  the  theory  of  descent  that  is  especially  cultivated.  It 
is  here  sought,  by  comparative  anatomical  and  developmental  studies,  to  establish 
the  natural  relationship  of  living  animals,  in  order  to  clear  up  in  this  way  and  to 
demonstrate  the  historical  development  of  the  animal  kingdom — its  "phylogeny" 
as  Haeckel  calls  it.  The  endeavour  is  made  to  derive  the  more  complicated  organs 
of  higher  animals  from  the  simpler  states  of  embryos  and  lower  organisms,  with  a 
view  of  obtaining  an  insight  into  the  laws  of  formation  of  organs  and  of  revealing  the 
connexion  between  the  facts  of  anatomy  and  developmental  history — a  connexion 
for  which  Haeckel  gave  the  explanatory  formula  in  his  biogenetic  law.  By  these 
tendencies  comparative  anatomical  and  developmental  research  necessarily  received 


THE   GERMAN   UNIVERSITIES  AT  THE  WORLD'S   FAIR.  I  17 

fresh  impulses,  and  the  zoology  of  Germany  thus  affords  us  the  interesting  spectacle 
of  the  successful  cooperation  of  two  great  intellectual  movements.  The  development 
of  the  theory  of  descent  in  German  universities  was  prefigured  by  the  morphological 
tendency  of  German  research,  and  in  its  turn  this  theory  also  exercised  a  determina- 
tive and  fruitful  influence  on  morphology.  Morphology  and  the  theory  of  descent 
are  thus  the  two  factors  that  now  dominate  the  zoological  research  of  the  German 
universities  and  that  probably  will  dominate  it  for  some  time  to  come." 

The  report  of  the  medical  faculty  opens  with  a  careful  survey 
of  the  present  state  of  anatomy  (pp.  187-233)  by  W.  Waldeyer  of 
Berlin.  Physiology  is  sketched  by  L.  Hermann,  the  editor  of  the 
six-volume  Handbuch.  The  constantly  increasing  import  of  patho- 
logical anatomy  is  forcibly  set  forth  by  R.  Virchow  (pp.  241-261) 
who  believes  that  pathological  chemistry  will  in  the  future  become 
more  and  more  indispensable.  The  revolution  that  took  place  in 
the  treatment  of  internal  diseases  through  and  since  Virchow  is  re- 
ported by  H.  v.  Ziemssen.  The  progress  made  in  surgery  is  re- 
viewed by  J.  Mikulicz.  Since  Lister's  innovation,  surgical  operators 
became  bolder  than  ever  ;  German  surgeons  have  slowly  changed 
the  antiseptic  method  into  a  purely  aseptic  one.  Names  such  as 
Bruns,  Billroth,  Volkmann,  Langenbeck,  Bergmann,  and  others  are 
famous,  and  their  successful  operations  have  astonished  the  world. 
Gynaecology  is  summarised  by  H.  Fritsch,  the  Treatment  of  Chil- 
dren's Diseases  by  A.  Baginsky,  Ophthalmology  by  A.  v.  Hippel, 
Psychiatry  by  Ludwig  Meyer,  Dermatology  by  A.  Neisser,  Diseases 
of  the  Throat  and  Nose  by  B.  Frankel,  Otology  by  H.  Walb,  Den- 
tistry by  F.  Busch,  Pharmacology  by  C.  Binz,  Hygiene,  which 
since  Pettenkofer  has  become  an  independent  and  indeed  an  impor- 
tant branch  of  medicine,  by  C.  Fliigge,  and  Forensic  Medicine  by 
Skrzeczka. 

It  would  be  unfair  to  expect  the  report  of  the  German  uni- 
versities to  be  complete  ;  it  is  at  best  a  fairly  approximate  sum- 
mary which  is  to  some  extent  influenced  by  the  preferences  of  the 
various  contributors.  It  is  but  natural  that  Gottingen  and  Berlin 
are  noticeably  prominent,  Berlin  as  the  capital  of  Modern  Germany 
and  Gottingen  as  the  university  at  which  Anglo-American  traditions 
are  still  prevalent.  To  criticise  omissions,  where,  according  to  the 


Il8  THE    MONIST. 

reviewer's  taste,  more  should  have  been  said,  would  be  unfair. 
Some  subjects  have  been  neglected,  modern  logic,  for  instance,  has 
been  entirely  dropped.  But  we  must  bear  in  mind,  first,  that  it 
would  be  all  but  impossible  to  satisfy  all  desiderata,  secondly,  that 
the  whole  work  had  to  be  completed  in  three  months,  and,  thirdly, 
that  it  is  a  courteous  gift  which  does  honor  not  only  to  the  giver, 
that  magnificent  body  of  German  savants  who  constitute  the  German 
universities,  but  also  to  the  American  nation  whose  respect  and  good 
opinion  our  brethern  beyond  the  Atlantic  solicit  in  such  a  kind  and 

amiable  way. 

* 
*  * 

America  is  often  ridiculed  as  the  land  of  the  almighty  dollar. 
Germans  especially  are  disposed  to  believe  that  our  people  are  ma- 
terialistic and  devoid  of  all  ideals.  This  is  a  misconception.  America 
is  perhaps  the  most  idealistic  country  in  the  world.  Americans, 
it  is  true,  are  practical,  and  mean  to  be  that,  but  they  are  not  ma- 
terialistic. We  can  unhesitatingly  say,  that  should  a  million  dol- 
lars, or  several  millions,  be  wanted  in  any  one  of  our  great  cities, 
New  York  or  Chicago  or  San  Francisco,  for  some  enterprise  of  urgent 
communal  interest,  be  it  a  hospital,  a  school,  a  life-saving  station,  or 
what  not,  the  money  would  be  pledged  within  a  day,  if  but  the  men 
who  undertook  the  work  were  a  guarantee  that  the  plans  would  be 
properly  executed  and  the  institution  serve  its  purpose.  If  we  meas- 
ure the  idealism  of  a  country  in  foot-pounds  of  energy  that  people 
expend  in  its  service,  if  we  measure  it  by  the  sacrifices  voluntarily 
made  for  ideals,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  America  ranks  first 
among  all  the  nations  of  the  world. 

The  World's  Fair  at  Chicago  is  indeed  characteristic  of  the 
spirit  that  animates  American  character.  There  has  never  before 
been  an  exhibition  in  which  the  purely  commercial  interests  were 
so  much  overshadowed  by  the  higher  and  nobler  purposes  of  national 
education.  The  managers  of  the  World's  Fair  have  made  everything 
subservient  to  the  one  thing  needed,  that  is  to  raise  the  civilisation 
of  the  people  and  to  improve  their  minds  by  instructing  and  by  en- 
tertaining them.  The  World's  Fair  imparts  information,  it  edu- 
cates, and  it  teaches  a  great  object-lesson.  The  administration  is 


THE   GERMAN  UNIVERSITIES  AT  THE  WORLD'S  FAIR.  1 19 

certainly  not  without  faults,  yet  upon  the  whole  it  has  been  con- 
ducted, according  to  the  intention  of  the  shareholders,  so  as  to  ensure 
an  ideal  rather  than  a  financial  success.  Gain  or  loss  was  regarded 
as  a  matter  of  subordinate  consideration. 

The  exhibit  of  the  German  universities  accords  most  harmoni- 
ously with  the  general  plan  of  the  World's  Fair  at  Chicago.  It  is 
very  welcome  and  we  are  grateful  to  the  men  to  whose  labors  we  owe 
the  instructive  and  successful  execution  of  such  a  valuable  work. 

We  do  not  wish  to  glorify  our  country  in  any  vain  spirit,  for  we 
are  by  no  means  blind  to  its  many  imperfections.  We  know  that 
there  are  many  drawbacks  to  our  political  and  social  conditions, 
but  we  are  at  the  same  time  confident  of  national  improvement.  The 
spirit  of  a  practical  idealism  will  conquer  in  the  end,  and  those  ele- 
ments which  expect  to  prosper  by  corruption  will  perish. 

We  believe  in  liberty  ;  we  enjoy  its  benefits  and  accept  the  con- 
sequences of  an  ill-employed  liberty,  also.  Our  people  have  them- 
selves to  blame  if  they  surfer  from  the  vices  and  errors  of  their 
magistrates  and  legislators.  They  must  learn  by  experience.  Many 
of  our  political  institutions,  especially  our  civil  service,  need  reform. 
As  they  are  at  present,  we  observe  that  rectitude  and  a  faithful  at- 
tention to  duty  are  not  always  rewarded,  while  dishonesty  is  often 
actually  at  a  premium. 

Considering  the  vicious  system  of  our  civil  service,  we  must 
be  lenient  in  judging  the  corruption  that  prevails  in  many  of  its 
branches.  We  should  rather  say  it  is,  after  all,  marvellous  that 
conditions  are  not  worse.  It  is  comparatively  easy  for  the  employees 
of  the  German  Government  to  be  and  to  remain  honest,  for  so  long 
as  they  attend  to  their  duty,  they  are  safe  in  their  positions,  and  no 
emperor  or  governor  or  superintendent  can  remove  them.  A  change 
of  policy  in  the  government  only  implies  a  change  of  the  chiefs  of 
the  various  departments.  Would  European  officers  maintain  their 
well-deserved  reputation  for  honesty  and  efficiency,  if  they  were 
suddenly  transplanted  into  such  conditions  as  prevail  under  our 
faulty  system? 

The  evils  that  appear  in  our  national  and  social  life  are  bad 
enough  ;  they  lie  on  the  surface  and  obtrude  at  once  on  every  one 


I2O  THE    MONIST. 

who  visits  our  country.  But  they  are  not  irredeemable  ;  they  are  set 
off  by  great  and  solid  virtues.  He  only  who  feels  in  his  own  heart 
the  pulse  of  the  most  sacred  aspirations  and  hopes  of  this  nation, 
can  appreciate  the  grandeur  of  its  rare  possibilities. 

Moreover,  the  evils  that  accrue  from  a  wrongly  applied  liberty 
are  educational ;  they  will  impel  us  to  advance  on  the  road  of  pro- 
gress. They  will  force  us  to  raise  the  general  standard  of  civilisa- 
tion. They  impose  a  great  duty  upon  us,  which,  we  grant,  is  very 
difficult  to  perform  ;  but  the  performance  of  this  duty  will  create  a 
nobler  and  higher  type  of  humanity.  Those  who  have  no  faith  in 
ideals  and  the  power  of  ideals,  who  have  no  confidence  in  progress 
and  the  higher  possibilities  of  mankind,  naturally  regard  the  task 
as  impracticable.  While  we  are  fully  aware  of  all  the  difficulties,  we 
yet  do  not  despair  of  the  situation.  There  is  a  divinity  in  the  world 
that  aspires  to  incarnation  ;  and  this  divinity  is  still  alive  in  mankind. 
Through  errors  and  true  knowledge,  through  adversities  and  pros- 
perity, through  misery  and  happiness,  through  good  and  evil  times, 
through  despair  and  hope,  through  sin  and  saintliness,  folly  and 
wisdom,  the  God  in  man  struggles  onward.  The  mass  of  mankind 
may  be  ever  so  wretched,  the  ideal  will  sprout  and  develop  like  a' 
mustard-seed,  and  its  growth  will  astonish  the  faint-hearted. 

We  shall  have  to  pass  through  many  sad  experiences,  but  it  is 
certain  that  in  the  bracing  air  of  freedom  the  fittest  will  survive,  and 
fitness  is  inseparably  bound  up  with  morality. 

Freedom,  be  it  academical  or  political,  is  not  favorable  to  the 
weak ;  it  proves  destructive  to  those  who  lack  independence  or  self- 
control  ;  the  unfit  must  fail.  Yet  the  results  are  not  to  be  deplored. 

Recognising  the  kinship  between  the  German  university  system 
and  the  institutions  of  our  own  country,  we  say,  the  greatness  and  the 
glory  of  German  science  are  due  above  all  to  its  academic  liberty, 
and  the  promising  future  of  our  national  hope  depends  mainly  upon 
the  right  use  we  shall  make  of  our  ideal  of  freedom. 

EDITOR. 


LITERARY  CORRESPONDENCE. 

FRANCE. 

THE  recent  work  of  M.  J.  Novicow,  Les  luttes  entre  sodetes  hu- 
maines  et  leurs  phases  successives,  forms  an  interesting  contribu- 
tion to  social  science.  The  author,  by  birth  a  Russian,  has  already 
published  a  book  in  our  language,  La  politique  Internationale,  which 
has  been  the  subject  of  much  comment.  Works  of  this  kind,  once 
said  a  distinguished  German  to  me,  labor  under  the  misfortune  that 
they  are  not  read  by  statesmen,  and  that  the  scholars  and  students 
who  read  them  are  unable  to  apply  their  teachings.  This  objection 
does  not  absolutely  hold,  for  the  general  thought  of  mankind,  which 
in  the  end  always  impresses  itself  on  governments,  is  continuously 
modified  by  the  secret  infiltrations  of  books,  and,  as  M.  Novicow 
himself  writes,  "it  is  only  by  acting  on  public  opinion  that  we  can 
hope  ever  to  control  the  world." 

This  large  work — it  contains  not  less  than  seven  hundred  and 
fifty  pages — would  have  gained  much  by  being  abridged  and  more 
thoroughly  systematised.  Filled  with  indifferent  facts,  a  severe  re- 
vision would  greatly  increase  its  worth.  But  I  do  not  wish  to  cavil  : 
more  important  criticisms  claim  our  attention. 

In  reviewing  the  general  arguments  by  which  M.  Novicow  con- 
nects his  conception  of  human  society  with  the  leading  ideas  of  bi- 
ology and  astronomy,  we  discover  at  once  that,  with  all  the  sociolo- 
gists of  our  time,  he  has  absorbed  the  powerful  influence  of  Comte. 
But  he  has  also  acquired  from  the  English  school  the  faculty  of 
painstaking  care  and  the  laborious  consideration  of  details.  "It  is 
owing  to  the  neglect,"  he  writes,,  "which  has  prevailed  till  the  pres- 


122  THE  MONIST. 

ent  time,  of  a  careful  examination  of  almost  imperceptible  facts  that 
sociology  is  still  so  far  behind  the  other  sciences."  For  the  foun- 
dations of  his  work,  he  directly  borrows  from  Darwinism  the  princi- 
ples, now  so  widely  diffused,  which  the  simple  phrases  "struggle 
for  life,"  "survival  of  the  fittest,"  "adaptation,"  etc.,  will  suffice  to 
evoke  in  all  minds.  He  is  not,  indeed,  the  first  to  apply  the  ideas 
of  evolution  and  competition  to  social  phenomena.  But  his  work 
is  precisely  executed  ;  and  if  the  conclusions  which  he  presents  do 
not  all  clearly  and  indubitably  proceed  from  his  biological  premises, 
it  must  yet  be  acknowledged  that  he  reaches  results  to  which  these 
premises  give  greater  solidity  and  which  have,  thus,  infinitely  more 
chance  of  being  exact.  Sociology,  in  the  present  state  of  affairs, 
cannot  give  us  more. 

The  fundamental  thesis  of  M.  Novicow  is  accordingly  this  : 
that  the  struggle  between  the  component  groups  of  human  society  is 
a  prolongation  of  the  great  struggle  for  life  which  rules  the  whole  ani- 
mate world  ;  that  it  is  continued  here  in  many  different  forms  pecu- 
liar to  social  phenomena,  and  that  all  our  efforts  should  be  to  bring 
it  about  that  this  struggle  produces  progress  and  justice,  that  is  to 
say,  "an  acceleration  of  adaptation."  And  to  establish  the  equiva- 
lence of  these  factors,  the  biological  and  the  moral,  so  often  sup- 
posed contradictory,  is  the  task  on  which  M.  Novicow  concentrates 
all  hfs  powers. 

According  to  him,  the  biological  law  is  constantly  transforming 
itself  into  moral  law  ;  a  contention  which  he  proves  by  a  contrast 
of  the  struggle  for  life  as  it  was  in  the  past  with  what  it  has  become 
in  the  present  and  probably  will  become  in  the  future.  In  propor- 
tion as  the  social  aggregations  of  humanity  have  become  more  and 
more  perfected,  the  competition  of  life  has  taken  higher  forms  :  the 
purely  physiological,  or  animal,  struggle  has  been  followed  by  eco- 
nomical and  political  struggles,  and  finally,  by  intellectual  struggles, 
and  in  each  of  these  successions  of  facts  we  have  beheld  processes 
more  rational  and  rapid  take  the  place  of  the  old  faulty  and  tedious 
ones.  I  must  refer  the  reader  to  the  book  itself  for  the  full  develop- 
ment of  all  these  points,  and  restrict  myself  here  to  pointing  out  in  a 
few  lines  the  general  solutions  of  the  author  :  in  the  economical 


LITERARY  CORRESPONDENCE.  123 

order  are  opposed,  the  vices  of  protectionism,  which  is  at  bottom 
nothing  else  than  "the  spoliation  of  the  capable  at  the  expense  of 
the  incapable,  "and  the  salutary  practice  of  free  trade;  in  the  po- 
litical order  the  free  association  of  social  groups  takes  the  place  of 
the  illusion  of  great  states,  the  state  of  peace  succeeding  the  state 
of  war,  which  can  be  nothing  more  than  a  simple  pathological  acci- 
dent ;  in  the  intellectual  order,  religious  persecution,  constraint 
under  all  its  forms  gives  way  to  spiritual  activity,  to  the  free  com- 
munication of  minds  through  space  ;  in  fine,  the  suppression  of  the 
idle  and  factotum  state,  and  of  the  frightful  fiscal  tendencies  which 
are  its  expression  ;  the  liberty  for  ever}7  individual  of  living  where 
he  thinks  best,  and  also  for  each  group  of  associating  itself  with  the 
nationality  which  it  may  select  ;  the  voluntary  federation  of  states 
instead  of  the  so-called  equilibrium  of  powers  ;  "an  intense  upward 
movement,  the  ardent  struggle  and  victory  of  the  better,  realised 
with  the  greatest  possible  rapidity." 

Some  will  reproach  M.  Novicow  with  having  set  up  here  a  the- 
ory of  individualism — even  to  the  extent  of  establishing  an  idivid- 
ualism  of  collective  groups — at  the  very  moment  when  this  doctrine 
has  produced  its  last  excesses.  To  which  our  author  might  reply 
that  these  excesses  are  such  only  in  appearance,  and  that  it  is  now 
time  to  stop  in  the  movement  of  reaction  which  is  carrying  us  head- 
long into  the  abyss  of  state-socialism,  the  most  ruinous  of  tyrannies. 
Others  will  accuse  him  of  attempting  to  build  in  the  air  an  imaginary 
republic.  But  he  knows  the  difficulties  with  which  he  has  to  deal, 
he  does  not  reckon  without  the  factor  of  time,  and  it  is  the  briefness 
alone  in  which  I  have  here  expressed  his  doctrines  that  makes  them 
appear  so  extreme. 

No,  M.  Novicow  does  not  dream  of  an  idyllic  society.  He  is 
bold  without  being  adventurous,  and  free  from  prejudices  without 
being  revolutionary.  It  is  primarily  in  the  interests  of  real  gain, 
understood  in  its  best  sense,  that  he  protests  against  the  erroneous 
doctrines  of  the  old  society,  and  it  indeed  seems  at  times  as  if  he 
were  "beating  down  open  dx)ors."  But  it  often  happens  that  open 
doors  close  behind  us,  and,  besides,  we  have  within  us,  almost  with- 
out exception,  a  double  nature,  that  of  our  scientific  instruction  and 


124  THE    MONIST. 

that  of  our  prejudices.  Our  conduct  is  a  perpetual  compromise  be- 
tween the  men  which  we  were  yesterday  and  that  which  we  shall  be 
to-morrow.  In  the  eyes  of  the  child  there  is  no  reason  that  the  de- 
sign of  society  should  change  any  more  than  should  the  profile  of 
the  mountains  on  the  horizon.  The  majority  of  men  preserve  this 
infantine  illusion  and  cry  ever  for  an  Utopia.  Meanwhile,  the  world 
changes  without  cessation,  and  in  the  end  all  is  accomplished — even 

that  which  is  reasonable. 

* 
*  * 

M.  F.  R.  PAULHAN'S  new  book,  Joseph  de  Maistre  et  sa  philoso- 
phic, carries  us  a  good  ways  from  M.  Novicow,  far  behind  him,  and 
also  far  in  advance  of  him.  To  Joseph  de  Maistre,  and  in  the  point 
of  view  from  which  he  is  usually  regarded,  the  future  is  only  the 
mirage  of  the  Catholic  past,  or  that  past  the  rough  outline  of  the 
future.  It  is  this  idea  which  M.  Paulhan  has  so  well  placed  in  re- 
lief. The  personality  of  Joseph  de  Maistre,  so  interesting  to  French 
thought,  should  not  be  less  so  to  American  thought.  Certainly 
every  reader  will  derive  benefit  from  the  book  of  which  I  am  now 
speaking,  a  brief,  excellent  and  precise  study,  the  best  which  we  yet 
possess  on  this  rare  writer  and  original  thinker. 

Here  we  may  see  what  secret  bonds  unite  the  most  dissimilar 
minds  ;  how  much,  different  philosophies  modify  the  same  facts  ; 
and  how  greatly,  also,  the  force  of  facts  can  reduce  the  divergencies 
of  different  philosophies  !  I  extract  from  a  page  of  De  Maistre  these 
passages:  "In  the  vast  domain  of  animate  nature  open  violence 
reigns,  a  species  of  foreordained  anger  that  arms  all  creatures  in 
mutua  funera  :  the  moment  you  pass  from  the  kingdom  of  insensible 
matter  you  find  the  decree  of  violent  death  written  on  the  very 
boundaries  of  life  ....  a  philosopher  can  even  discover  how  this 
eternal  carnage  is  foreseen  and  ordered  in  the  great  All.  .  .  .  The 
entire  earth,  constantly  saturated  with  blood,  is  but  an  immense 
altar,  on  which  all  that  lives  is  immolated,  endlessly,  immeasurably, 
without  relaxation,  till  the  consummation  of  things,  till  the  extinction 
of  evil,  till  the  death  of  death."  Here  is  the  law  of  the  struggle  for 
existence,  formulated  with  sombre  energy  a  half  a  century  before 
Darwin.  But  it  does  not  assume  in  the  doctrine  of  Maistre  its 


LITERARY  CORRESPONDENCE.  125 

"natural  "  purport.  For  him,  pain  and  war  are  the  expiation  of  the 
evil  of  the  world.  Men  are  one  with  each  other  ;  each  is  satisfied 
through  the  other.  War,  moreover,  involves  an  advancement  to- 
wards what  has  always  been  our  dream,  unity.  It  is  of  no  conse- 
quence here  that  Joseph  de  Maistre  wished  to  realise  temporal  unity 
by  means  of  a  "king,"  and  spiritual  unity  by  the  Pope.  His  con- 
ception of  unity  and  his  view  of  the  enigma  of  pain  make  him  turn 
his  eyes  to  the  future.  For  this  Catholic  and  Christian  thinker,  re- 
ligion does  not  possess  its  supreme  value  so  much  in  virtue  of  its 
dogmas  as  in  virtue  of  the  unity  of  beliefs  and  habits  that  it  realises, 
i.  e.  by  the  quantity  of  common  feeling  which  it  creates.  War,  if 
an  expiation,  is  the  indicator  of  our  progress  towards  that  unity, 
that  "  accord,"  the  ultimate  sign  of  which  will  be  the  disappearance 
of  evil.  "Evil,"  writes  Maistre,  "is  the  schism  of  life,  it  is  un- 
truth." 

If  we  put  these  things  in  other  words,  and  picture  to  ourselves 
other  political  processes  arid  other  details  of  operation,  we  shall  not 
be  so  far  from  Maistre  as  we  think.  M.  Paulhan  is  right.  "  If  we 
will  but  transpose,  so  to  speak,  the  thought  of  Joseph  de  Maistre, 
and  interpret  it  in  a  slightly  different  manner  from  what  it  has  been, 
we  shall  not  only  enjoy  the  beauty,  but  shall  also  apprehend  the 
truth  of  his  ideas,  and,  to  a  great  extent  also,  of  his  general  theo- 
ries." 

M.  PAUL  SOURIAU  has  recently  published  a  book  entitled  La 
suggestion  dans  I' art.  There  is,  in  this  interesting  work,  no  lack  of 
facts  or  of  subtle  expositions.  But  I  have  some  objections  to  its 
thesis — that  art  is  a  matter  of  suggestion.  If  we  simply  compare  the 
effect  produced  on  us  by  a  work  of  art  to  the  effects  of  hypnotism, 
the  comparison  is  admissible  and  offers  striking  hints.  But  if  we 
identify  aesthetic  pleasure  with  hypnosis,  we  commit,  in  my  judg- 
ment, a  singular  abuse  of  language.  And  if,  finally,  we  advise  the 
student,  in  order  to  augment  the  effect  of  art,  to  have  recourse  to 
hypnotic  methods,  the  artist  will  soon  have  a  public  formed  only  of 
"suggestible"  individuals  par  excellence,  that  is,  of  hysterical  and 
degenerate  subjects.  M.  Souriau,  unfortunately,  does  not  fully  ad- 
here to  his  comparison.  He  seeks  to  explain  the  enjoyment  of  art 


126  THE   MON1ST. 

as  a  species  of  hypnosis,  and  he  would  go  perhaps  to  the  extent  of 
accepting  a  theory  of  hallucinatory  dreams  produced  by  the  com- 
bined seductions  of  smell,  sight,  hearing,  and  touch.  A  chaste  hal- 
lucination, of  course,  in  which  the  artist  would  not  address  the 
senses,  but  would  acquire  a  mastery  of  souls  and  cause  the  beauti- 
ful dreams  of  his  own  mind  to  pass  into  those  of  others  ! 

I  oppose  theses  of  this  sort  always,  in  whatsoever  form  they 
appear. 

When  we  make  the  charm  of  art  consist  of  hypnosis,  we  neglect 
too  much  the  importance  of  the  specific  sensation  without  which 
there  is  no  true  art.  And  this  is  exactly  what  M.  Souriau  does,  de- 
spite his  delicate  artistic  sense.  He  sets  too  little  value  on  the 
pleasure  attached  to  the  simple  sensorial  perception,  and  he  does 
not  perceive  that  by  following  that  inclination  he  arrives  at  an  aes- 
thetics of  Ruskin,  and  enrols  himself  among  the  Pre-Raphaelites, 
or  in  the  neuropathic  school  of  art.  If  the  sensation  of  hearing  or  of 
sight  plays  in  music  or  in  painting  so  slight  a  part,  it  will  no  longer 
be  worth  one's  while  to  become  a  Rembrandt  or  a  Beethoven.  A 
colored  scarf  that  blinds  the  eyes,  a  tom-tom  that  deafens  the  ears, 
will  fulfil  equally  well  our  purpose.  If  hypnosis  is  the  perfect  state 
of  emotion,  there  is  no  need  of  great  effort  to  put  us  to  sleep,  nor 
even  to  procure  for  us  agreeable  dreams.  As  to  the  means  of  put- 
ting the  hallucinations  into  our  poor  little  brains,  if  the  artist  could 
ever  become  the  magician  that  M.  Souriau  pictures  him,  he  would 
not  be  slow,  alas,  to  abuse  his  power  and  would  soon  be  banished 
from  all  free  states. 

But  things  really  come  to  pass  in  a  more  simple  manner,  both 
in  the  artist  who  creates,  and  in  the  hearer,  the  spectator,  who  ad- 
mires. M.  Souriau  knows  this  well,  and  he  is  too  good  a  psycholo- 
gist to  be  given  a  lesson  on  this  point.  But  he  has  yielded  to  the 
temptation  of  pushing  a  seductive  analogy  to  extremes  ;  he  has  for- 
gotten that  "comparison  is  not  reason,"  that  analogy  is  fraught 
with  dangers,  and  that  one  should  be  careful  in  the  reduction  of  all 
phenomena  of  a  class  to  a  single  principle,  lest  we  lose  track  of  the 
whole. 

It  would  be  easy  for  me  to  add  to  these   criticisms,  in   con- 


LITERARY  CORRESPONDENCE.  127 

nexion  with  a  work  of  Wundt's  which  has  just  been  published  in 
French,  under  the  title  of  Hypnotismc  et  suggestion.  Wundt  vigor- 
ously combats  here  Schmidkunz's  theory,  which  I  also  contested 
in  the  Revue  philosophique,  that  all  psychical  facts,  from  simple  per- 
ception to  the  noblest  drtistic  and  social  creations,  are  nothing  but 
"suggestions."  But  I  shall  not  insist  here  on  these  points,  as  I 
have  also  a  few  words  to  say  of  another  attempt,  quite  different, 

but  equally  adventurous,  in  the  field  of  aesthetics. 

* 

*  sk 

M.  MAURICE  GRIVEAU,  in  his.  Elements  du  beau,  analyse  et  syn- 
these  des  faits  esthetiques  d'apres  les  documents  du  langage,  has  set  him- 
self the  task  of  making  an  inventory  of  language,  with  the  view  of 
discovering  in  such  an  inventory  the  elements  of  the  beautiful,  or, 
more  exactly,  the  reason  and  the  value  of  aesthetic  judgment  in  all 
fields.  One  of  our  best-known  poets,  M.  Sully  Prudhomme,  at- 
tempted a  similar  task  ;  but  he  did  not  aim  at  the  same  end  as  Gri- 
veau,  whose  object  is  none  other  than  to  establish  a  numerical 
aesthetics,  that  is  to  say,  to  refer  our  judgments  of  taste  to  opera- 
tions of  "unconscious  mathematics." 

What  kind  of  relation,  the  reader  will  ask,  can  possibly  exist 
between  such  a  mathematics  and  the  adjectives  of  the  languages  we 
speak?  Picture  to  yourself  a  vast  lexicological  table  where  all  quali- 
ficative  words  are  arranged  in  two  crossed  directions,  first,  in  a 
vertical  direction,  according  to  their  qualitative  value  (in  the  hier- 
archical order  of  the  sensations,  from  the  most  elementary  to  the 
most  complex),  second,  in  a  horizontal  direction,  according  to  their 
quantitative  value,  (forming  a  scale  indicating  the  increase  of  in- 
tensity of  sensations).  This  table  arranged,  he  deduces  from  it — I 
cannot  enter  into  details — two  principal  facts.  The  vertical  arrange- 
ment of  epithets  shows  us  that  language  always  passes  from  the 
symbolism  of  "reflexes"  to  the  expression  of  "states  of  conscious- 
ness"; for  example,  from  a  subjective  point  of  view,  allechant,  ra- 
fraichissant,  agreable  ;  from  an  objective  point  of  view,  sucre,  doux, 
bon.  The  horizontal  order  reveals  a  curious  fact,  that  the  extreme 
terms  of  every  lexicological  gamut  are  pejoratives,  (thus,  glacial  2J\& 
brulant,  fade  and  dcre,  imperceptible  and  assourdissanf],  the  interme- 


128  THE  MONIST. 

diary  terms  generally  remaining  favorable  for  starting  from  a  middle 
point,  or  rather  from  a  mean  zone  of  indifference. 

Now,  these  various  zones  of  a  gamut  have  their  exact  physio- 
logical expression.  The  table  of  qualificative  words  can  be  trans- 
lated by  a  "gradual  contrast,"  passing,  through  different  states, 
from  increasing  inhibition  to  the  left  to  increasing  dynamogeny  to 
the  right.  The  mediocre  answers  to  the  just  mean  ;  at  the  inter- 
mediary points  the  feeling  becomes  aesthetic  ;  at  the  extremes  the 
organic  sensation  alone  dominates,  and  we  reach  the  limits  where 
impression  becomes  painful.  "Imagination  completes  its  role  of 
appreciation  when  sensibility  begins  its  role." 

But  are  not  our  internal  states,  thus  placed  in  relief  by  lan- 
guage, correlated  with  the  exterior  rhythm  of  things?  Does  there 
not  exist  an  objective  ideal,  the  positive  sum  of  harmonies  and  dis- 
sonances, to  which  our  different  states  of  physiological  ease  and 
disease  attach  themselves?  In  fine,  can  there  not  be  disengaged 
from  some  such  scheme  of  human  speech  a  graphic  system  whose 
chief  lines  blend  with  that  of  the  oscillation  of  some  correspondent  real- 
ity"* These  are  the  questions  that  have  led  M.  Griveau  to  the  theory 
of  numerical  aesthetics,  and  in  this  domain  he  has  found  a  coadjutor 
in  M.  Charles  Henry,  whose  patient  and  difficult  researches  I  shall 
some  day  discuss. 

In  the  want  of  other  positive  results,  the  inquiry  of  M.  Griveau 
will  furnish  at  least  a  confirmation,  quite  unexpected,  of  the  theory 
of  Spencer  and  Grant  Allen,  according  to  which  "an  aesthetic  feel- 
ing is  at  bottom  only  a  weakened  physiological  sensation."1 

LUCIEN  ARREAT. 
*  All  these  works  are  published  by  Alcan. 


CRITICISMS. 


OBSERVATIONS  ON  SOME  POINTS  IN  JAMES'S  PSYCHOLOGY. 

III.     WILL. 

Although  I  have  already  quoted  the  remarks  with  which  Professor  James  opens 
his  chapter  on  this  subject,  they  are  of  sufficient  importance  to  warrant  repetition  : 

"Desire,  wish,  will,  are  states  of  mind  which  every  one  knows,  and  which  no 
definition  can  make  plainer.  We  desire  to  feel,  to  have,  to  do,  all  sorts  of  things 
which  at  the  moment  are  not  felt,  had,  or  done.  If  with  the  desire  there  goes  a 
sense  that  attainment  is  not  possible,  we  simply  wish  ;  but  if  we  believe  that  the 
end  is  in  our  power,  we  will  that  the  desired  feeling,  having,  or  doing  shall  be  real ; 
and  real  it  presently  becomes,  either  immediately  upon  the  willing  or  after  certain 
preliminaries  have  been  fulfilled." 

With  this  statement  of  the  case  I  am  in  entire  agreement.  With  two  slight 
qualifications,  it  seems  to  me  to  include  all  that  is  essential  in  volition.  I  should 
supplement  it  by  saying  that  the  desire  for  the  thing  in  question  must  be  stronger 
than  for  anything  that  is  perceived  to  be  incompatible  with  it,  and  that  it  must  be 
thought  of  as  attainable  by  our  own  exertions.  Although  we  may  wish  for  the  sun- 
rise, and  believe  that  our  wish  can  be  realised,  we  do  not  will  it. 

Professor  James,  on  the  contrary,  unless  I  entirely  misapprehend  his  meaning, 
devotes  the  greater  part  of  his  chapter  of  more  than  a  hundred  pages  to  an  elabo- 
rate attempt  to  show  that  this  statement  is,  if  not  incorrect,  at  least  very  incom- 
plete ;  that  the  fundamental,  essential  thing  in  will  is  not  desire,  but  attention.  De- 
sire, according  to  his  view,  is  one  of  the  principle  things  which  may  fix  our  atten- 
tion on  an  object,  and  thus  excite  voluntary  action,  but  it  is  only  one  among  many 
causes  which  may  bring  about  the  same  result. 

It  will  perhaps  tend  to  simplify  the  discussion  if  I  state  f.t  once  that,  so  far  as 
this  point  is  concerned,  the  difference  between  us  is,  at  bottom,  one  of  definition. 
The  question  is  whether  certain  acts,  taking  place  under  conditions  described  by 
him,  are  properly  called  voluntary.  With  his  statement  of  the  facts  I  have  little 
fault  to  find,  but  it  seems  to  me  that  the  inferences  which  he  draws  are  calculated 
to  introduce  confusion  in  regard  to  matters  which  are,  for  practical  purposes,  clear 


130  THE  MONIST. 

in  the  minds  of  plain  people.  To  save  space,  I  must  pass  over  many  things  with 
which  I  agree,  and  which  are  admirably  put,  to  come  to  the  essential  point  of  dif- 
ference. I  must,  however,  call  attention  to  his  able,  and,  to  my  mind,  convincing 
argument  against  the  existence  of  what  Wundt  and  his  followers  call  the  "feeling 
of  innervation."  It  seems  to  me  that  he  shows,  beyond  reasonable  doubt,  that,  so 
far  as  this  feeling  has  any  existence,  it  is  due  to  the  sensations  arising  in  the  parts 
concerned  in  the  movement,  of  which  it  is  thus  a  result. 

The  starting-point  of  the  argument  is  the  unquestionable  truth  that  voluntary 
movements,  being  intended  beforehand,  must  be  movements  of  which  we  have  pre- 
vious knowledge  from  their  having  been  involuntarily  performed. 

".  .  .  .  if,  in  voluntary  action  properly  so  called,  the  act  must  be  foreseen,  it 
follows  that  no  creature  not  endowed  with  divinatory  power  can  perform  an  act 
voluntarily  for  the  first  time.  Well,  we  are  no  more  endowed  with  prophetic  vision 
of  what  movements  lie  in  our  power,  than  we  are  endowed  with  prophetic  vision  of 
what  sensations  we  are  capable  of  receiving.  As  we  must  wait  for  the  sensations 
to  be  given  us,  so  we  must  wait  for  the  movements  to  be  performed  involuntarily, 
before  we  can  frame  ideas  of  what  either  of  these  things  are.  We  learn  all  our  pos- 
sibilities by  way  of  experience.  When  a  particular  movement,  having  once  occurred 
in  a  random,  reflex,  or  involuntary  way,  has  left  an  image  of  itself  in  the  memory, 
then  the  movement  can  be  desired  again,  proposed  as  an  end,  and  deliberately 
willed.  But  it  is  impossible  to  see  "how  it  could  be  willed  before  "  (p.  487). 

"  If  I  will  to  utter  the  word  Paul  rather  than  Peter,  it  is  the  thought  of  my 
voice  falling  on  my  ear,  and  of  certain  muscular  feelings  in  my  tongue,  lips,  and 
larynx,  which  guide  the  utterance.  All  these  are  incoming  feelings,  and  between 
the  thought  of  them,  by  which  the  act  is  mentally  specified  with  all  possible  com- 
pleteness, and  the  act  itself,  there  is  no  room  for  any  third  order  of  mental  phenom- 
enon. There  is  indeed  they?«^,  the  element  of  consent,  or  resolve  that  the  act  shall 
ensue.  This,  doubtless,  to  the  reader's  mind,  as  to  my  own,  constitutes  the  essence 
of  the  voluntariness  of  the  act.  Thisyfo/  will  be  treated  of  in  detail  further  on.  It 
may  be  entirely  neglected  here,  for  it  is  a  constant  coefficient,  affecting  all  voluntary 
acts  alike,  and  incapable  of  serving  to  distinguish  them.  No  one  will  pretend  that 
its  quality  varies  according  as  the  right  arm,  for  example,  or  the  left  is  used. 

"An  anticipatory  image,  then,  of  the  sensorial  conseqtiences  of  a  movement,  plus, 
(on  certain  occasions;  the  fiat  that  these  consequences  shall  become  actual,  is  the  only 
psychic  state  which  introspection  lets  us  discern  as  the  forerunner  of  our  voluntary 
acts'1'1  (p.  501). 

Coming,  now,  to  the  point  upon  which  the  whole  discussion  hinges — the  rela- 
tions of  "  ideo-motor  "  action  to  voluntary  action,  he  says  : 

"  The  question  is  this  :  Is  the  bare  idea  of  a  movement' 's  sensible  effects  its  suffi- 
cient mental  cue,  or  must  there  be  an  additional  mental  antecedent,  in  the  sJiape  of  a 
fiat,  decision,  consent,  volitional  mandate,  or  other  synonymous  phenomenon  of  con- 
sciousness, before  the  movement  can  follow  ? 

' '  I  answer  :  Sometimes  the  bare  idea  is  sufficient,  but  sometimes  an  additional 
conscious  element,  in  the  shape  of  a  fiat,  mandate,  or  express  consent,  has  to  inter- 
vene and  precede  the  movement.  The  cases  without  a  fiat  constitute  the  more  fun- 
damental, because  the  more  simple,  variety.  The  others  involve  a  special  compli- 


CRITICISMS.  131 

cation,  which  must  be  fully  discussed  at  the  proper  time.  For  the  present  let  us 
turn  to  ideo-motor  action,  as  it  has  been  termed,  or  the  sequence  of  movement  upon 
the  mere  thought  of  it,  as  the  type  of  the  process  of  volition." 

[We  have  seen,  above,  that  our  author  speaks  of  the  fiat  as  "  the  essence  of  the 
voluntariness  of  the  act  ....  a  constant  coefficient,  affecting  all  voluntary  acts 
alike."  If  this  be  true.  I  admit  that  I  am  unable  to  understand  how  acts  from  which 
it  is  absent  can  be  taken  as  "  the  type  of  the  process  of  volition."  Let  us  see  what 
sort  of  facts  are  to  be  considered  under  this  head] : 

"Wherever  movement  follows  unhesitatingly  and  immediately  the  notion  of  it 
in  the  mind,  we  have  ideo-motor  action.  We  are  then  aware  of  nothing  between 
the  conception  and  the  execution.  All  sorts  of  neuro-muscular  processes  come  be- 
tween, of  course,  but  we  know  absolutely  nothing  of  them.  We  think  the  act,  and 
is  done  ;  and  that  is  all  that  introspection  tells  us  of  the  matter.  Dr.  Carpenter, 
who  first  used,  I  believe,  the  name  of  ideo-motor  action,  placed  it,  if  I  mistake  not, 
among  the  curiosities  of  our  mental  life.  The  truth  is  that  it  is  no  curiosity,  but 
simply  the  normal  process  stripped  of  disguise.  While  talking,  I  become  conscious 
of  a  pin  on  the  floor,  or  of  some  dust  on  my  sleeve.  Without  interrupting  the  con- 
versation, I  brush  away  the  dust,  or  pick  up  the  pin.  I  make  no  express  resolve, 
but  the  mere  perception  of  the  object,  and  the  fleeting  notion  of  the  act,  seem  of 
themselves  to  bring  the  latter  about.  Similarly,  I  sit  at  table  after  dinner,  and  find 
myself  from  time  to  time  taking  nuts  or  raisins  out  of  the  dish  and  eating  them. 
My  dinner  properly  is  over,  and  in  the  heat  of  the  conversation  I  am  hardly  aware 
of  what  I  do,  but  the  perception  of  the  fruit  and  the  fleeting  notion  that  I  may  eat 
it,  seem  fatally  to  bring  the  act  about.  There  is  certainly  no  express  fiat  here,  any 
more  than  there  is  in  all  those  habitual  goings  and  comings  and  rearrangements  of 
ourselves,  which  fill  every  hour  of  the  day,  and  which  incoming  sensations  insti- 
gate so  immediately  that  it  is  often  difficult  to  decide  whether  not  to  call  them 
reflex  rather  than  voluntary  acts  We  have  seen  in  Chapter  IV  that  the  interme- 
diate terms  of  an  habitual  series  of  acts  leading  to  an  end  are  apt  to  be  of  this  quasi- 
automatic  sort.  .  .  . 

' '  In  all  this  the  determining  condition  of  the  unhesitating  and  resistless  se- 
quence of  the  act  seems  to  be  the  absence  of  any  conflicting  notion  in  the  mind. 
Either  there  is  nothing  else  at  all  in  the  mind,  or  what  there  is  does  not  conflict. 
The  hypnotic  subject  realises  the  former  condition.  Ask  him  what  he  is  thinking 
about,  and  ten  to  one  he  will  reply  'nothing.'  The  consequence  is  that  he  both 
believes  everything  he  is  told,  and  performs  every  act  that  is  suggested."  (Pp. 
522-523.) 

I  have  no  fault  to  find  with  the  above  statement  of  the  facts,  nor  do  I  think 
that  Professor  James  at  all  exaggerates  the  importance  of  the  part  played  by  ideo- 
motor  action  in  our  conduct.  Its  relations  to  voluntary  action,  however,  require  a 
little  further  examination. 

It  is  probably  true,  in  a  sense,  that  ideo-motor  action  is,  psychologically,  a 
more  simple  process  than  action  with  a  conscious  motive,  but  it  does  not  follow  that 
it  is  more  fundamental.  When  the  skilful  pianist  plays  a  difficult  piece  of  music 
at  sight,  his  attention  is  fixed  on  the  notes  before  him,  and  his  fingers  go  instinc- 
tively to  the  right  keys,  without  any  more  of  a  conscious  "fiat"  than  the  general 


J  32  THE  MONIST. 

purpose  to  play  the  piece  as  it  is  written.  So  far  as  the  movements  are  concerned 
the  psychological  process  is  infinitely  simpler  than  when,  as  a  beginner,  he  prac- 
tised his  exercises  with  his  mind  fixed  on  the  position  and  movements  of  his  fingers, 
but  I  think  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  latter  is  the  fundamental  thing.  Now, 
this  is  a  type  of  the  origin  of  ideo-motor  action.  It  is,  I  think,  invariably  developed 
out  of  voluntary  action.  We  learn  to  walk,  to  talk,  to  write,  with  close  attention 
and  infinite  labor,  but  by  repetition  the  channels  in  our  nervous  systems  get  so 
worn  that  less  and  less  of  effort  is  required  in  forcing  the  passage,  until,  finally,  any 
sensation  or  -thought  habitually  associated  with  the  act  is  sufficient,  in  the  absence 
of  some  inhibitory  force,  to  instigate  the  movement.  If  this  be  true,  voluntary,  not 
ideo-motor  action,  must  be  considered  the  fundamental  thing.  I  cannot  think  of 
any  exception  to  this,  unless  primarily  instinctive  acts  should  be  classed  as  ideo- 
motor.  Much  might  be  said  in  favor  of  this  view,  but  this  hardly  seems  the  place 
for  such  a  discussion.  It  will  be  sufficient  to  admit  that,  in  such  cases,  acts  which 
were  originally  performed  from  an  unreasoning  impulse  may  come  to  be  done  with 
a  view  to  their  consequences. 

The  involuntary  character  of  ideo-motor  acts  is  recognised,  elsewhere,  by  Pro- 
fessor James  himself  : 

"A  man  says  to  himself,  'I  must  change  my  shirt,'  and  involuntarily  he  has 
taken  off  his  coat,  and  his  fingers  are  at  work  in  their  accustomed  manner  on  his 
waistcoat  buttons."  (P.  519.) 

Our  so-called  absent-minded  acts  are  ideo-motor.  I  have  lately  taken  to  carry- 
ing the  key  to  a  room,  where  I  have  frequent  occasion  to  go,  in  my  pocket,  and  for 
some  time  after  I  began  doing  so  I  invariably  went  to  the  drawer  where  I  had 
formerly  kept  it,  when  I  had  occasion  to  go  to  the  room,  not  because  I  supposed 
the  key  to  be  there,  but  because  that  action  had  become,  in  my  mind,  an  integral 
part  of  the  process  of  visiting  the  room. 

IE  there  remains,  in  any  one's  mind,  a  doubt  of  the  involuntary  character  of 
such  acts  as  we  have  been  considering,  it  should,  I  think,  be  dissipated  by  the  con- 
sideration of  the  notorious  fact  that  they  are  often  performed,  not  only  without  our 
will,  but  against  our  will.  Every  one  who  has  undertaken  to  break  himself  of  bad 
habits  must  be  familiar  with  this.  We  commit  the  faults  we  are  trying  to  correct 
during  the  practice  of  exercises  undertaken  for  that  express  purpose  Ideo-motor 
and  voluntary  action  are  most  intimately  associated  and  shade  off  imperceptibly 
into  each  other,  but  they  are  not  the  same,  and,  instead  of  the  former  being  the 
type  of  the  latter,  I  think  it  is  evident  that  pure  ideo-motor  action  is  not  voluntary 
at  all. 

The  simplest  type  of  voluntary  action  seems  to  be  when  it  follows  a  desire  that 
is  not  opposed  by  any  contradictory  feeling.  Of  this  sort,  and  not,  strictly,  ideo- 
motor,  seems  to  me  to  be  the  action  described  in  the  following  passage  by  Pro- 
fessor James : 


CRITICISMS. 


133 


' '  We  all  know  what  it  is  to  get  out  of  bed  on  a  freezing  morning,  in  a  room 
without  a  fire,  and  how  the  very  vital  principle  within  us  protests  against  the  ordeal. 
Probably  most  persons  have  lain  on  certain  mornings  for  an  hour  at  a  time  unable 
to  brace  themselves  to  the  resolve.  We  think  how  late  we  shall  be,  how  the  duties 
of  the  day  will  suffer  ;  we  say,  '  I  must  get  up  ;  this  is  ignominious,"  etc.;  but  still 
the  warm  couch  feels  too  delicious,  the  cold  outside  too  cruel,  and  resolution  faints 
away  and  postpones  itself  again  and  again,  just  as  it  seemed  on  the  verge  of  burst- 
ing the  resistance  and  passing  over  into  the  decisive  act.  Now,  how  do  we  ever  get 
up  under  such  circumstances?  If  I  may  generalise  from  my  own  experience,  we 
more  often  than  not  get  up  without  any  struggle  or  decision  at  all.  We  suddenly 
find  that  we  have  got  up.  A  fortunate  lapse  of  consciousness  occurs  ;  we  forget 
both  the  warmth  and  the  cold  ;  we  fall  into  some  reverie  connected  with  the  day's 
life,  in  the  course  of  which  the  idea  flashes  across  us,  '  Hollo,  I  must  lie  here  no 
longer' — ;an  idea,  which  at  that  lucky  instant  awakens  no  contrary  or  paralysing 
suggestions,  and  consequently  produces  immediately  its  appropriate  motor  effects. 
It  was  our  acute  consciousness  of  both  the  warmth  and  the  cold  during  the  period 
of  struggle,  which  paralysed  our  activity  then  and  kept  our  idea  of  rising  in  the 
condition  of  wish  and  not  of  will.  The  moment  these  inhibitory  ideas  ceased,  the 
original  idea  exerted  its  effects. 

"This  case  seems  to  me  to  contain,  in  miniature  form,  the  data  for  an  entire 
psychology  of  volition.  It  was,  in  fact,  through  meditating  on  this  phenomenon  in 
my  own  person  that  I  first  became  convinced  of  the  truth  of  the  doctrine  which 
these  pages  present,  and  which  I  need  here  illustrate  by  no  further  examples."  (P. 
524-) 

Judging  by  Professor  James's  statement  of  the  case,  and  comparing  it  with  my 
own  experience  in  similar  circumstances,  I  should  say  that  what  he  had  in  mind  at 
the  critical  moment  was  not  merely  the  thought  of  the  act  of  getting  up,  but  the 
thought  that  he  ought  to  get  up.  The  act,  accordingly,  is  done  with  a  motive, 
which,  for  the  moment,  meets  with  no  opposition.  To  class  it,  as  I  understand 
Professor  James  to  do,  with  acts  done  automatically,  without  motive  or  purpose, 
seems  to  me  to  be  losing  sight  of  a  very  important  distinction. 

I  have  quoted  the  greater  part  of  what  Professor  James  has  to  say  on  this  head, 
partly  on  account  of  its  importance  in  his  argument  and  partly  to  enable  my  readers 
to  decide  for  themselves  what  his  opinion  really  is  as  to  the  relations  of  ideo-motor 
and  voluntary  action — a  point  on  which  I  am  not  clear  in  my  own  mind.  On  the 
one  hand,  as  we  have  seen,  he  speaks  of  the  former  as  the  type  of  the  latter  ;  on  the 
other,  he  calls  some  ideo-motor  acts  involuntary. 

My  own  opinion  is,  that  those  acts,  and  no  others,  are  properly  called  volun- 
tary, which  are  done  purposely,  intentionally,  by  choice.  When  this  is  the  case,  no 
matter  how  simple  or  how  unhesitating  the  action,  it  is  voluntary  ;  when  it  is  not 
the  case,  no  matter  how  complicated  the  act  or  what  its  results,  it  is  involuntary. 

Passing  to  the  subject  of  action  after  deliberation,  I  will  not  attempt  to  follow 
Professor  James's  discussion  in  detail,  but,  before  taking  up  the  points  in  which  I 
differ  from  him,  will  call  attention  to  some  points  which  he  passes  over,  in  regard 
to  the  grounds  of  deliberation. 


134  THE  MONIST. 

Deliberation  may  be  in  regard  to  the  means  by  which  we  may  attain  an  end 
already  desired,  or  in  regard  to  the  ends  themselves.  In  the  former  case,  we  may 
be  in  doubt  whether  the  thing  desired  is  attainable,  or,  which  amounts,  practically, 
to  much  the  same  thing,  whether  it  is  attainable  without  the  sacrifice  of  something 
which  we  value  more  highly,  as  when  an  honest  man  doubts  whether  he  can  obtain 
an  office  which  he  would  like  by  honorable  means.  Or,  it  may  be  a  question  of  the 
best  means  of  securing  an  object  thought  of  as  attainable  in  various  ways,  as  when 
a  man  hesitates  as  to  the  route  he  will  take  in  a  journey  on  which  he  has  deter- 
mined. In  cases  like  these,  in  which  the  hesitation  is  merely  on  intellectual 
grounds,  the  decision,  when  our  doubts  are  resolved,  is  made  without  effort.  Even 
in  cases  in  which  we  are  obliged  to  act  in  important  matters  on  insufficient  knowl- 
edge, although  there  may  be  a  feeling  of  reluctance  to  commit  ourselves  to  what 
may  turn  out  to  be  a  wrong  course  of  action,  there  is  none  of  the  sense  of  renuncia- 
tion of  which  we  are  often  conscious  in  the  other  class  of  choices. 

When  two  desirable  objects  are  clearly  perceived  to  be  incompatible,  we  only 
hesitate  when  the  opposing  motives  are,  for  the  time  being,  of  equal  weight  in  our 
minds.  If  the  choice  is  between  matters  that  we  feel  to  be  of  little  importance,  we 
may  be  willing,  without  any  decided  preference,  to  let  the  matter  be  decided  by 
chance.  A  change  in  the  way  in  which  the  motives  are  presented  to  the  mind,  or 
in  our  mood,  may  give  such  a  preponderance  to  one  set  of  motives,  that  a  decision, 
which,  a  short  time  before,  seemed  impossible,  shall  be  made  without  misgiving. 
The  opposing  motives,  for  the  time,  sink  into  insignificance,  and  we  are  conscious 
of  no  effort  in  renouncing  the  one  good  for  the  other. 

When,  on  the  other  hand,  at  the  moment  of  decision,  two  incompatible  goods 
are  strongly  desired,  and  the  inclination  to  one  only  gains  a  slight  preponderance 
over  the  other,  the  renunciation  of  one  for  the  other  is  only  made  with  a  feeling  of 
effort.  It  is  in  regard  to  the  circumstances  under  which  this  feeling  arises  that  I 
must  next  take  issue  with  Professor  James. 

The  view  of  the  matter  which  seems  to   me  unsatisfactory  is  stated  as  follows  : 

"  The  states  of  mind  which  normally  possess  the  most  impulsive  quality  are 
•either  those  which  represent  objects  of  passion,  appetite,  or  emotion, — objects  of 
instinctive  reaction,  in  short ;  or  they  are  feelings  and  ideas  of  pleasure  or  of  pain  ; 
or  ideas  which  for  any  reason  we  have  grown  accustomed  to  obey,  so  that  the  habit 
of  reacting  on  them  is  ingrained  ;  or,  finally,  in  comparison  with  ideas  of  remoter 
objects,  they  are  ideas  of  objects  present  or  near  in  space  or  time.  Compared  with 
these  various  objects,  all  far-off  considerations,  all  highly  abstract  conceptions,  un- 
accustomed reasons,  and  motives  foreign  to  the  instinctive  history  of  the  race,  have 
little  or  no  impulsive  power.  They  prevail,  when  they  ever  do  prevail,  with  <-ffort, 
and  the  normal,  as  distinguished  from  the  pathological,  sphere  of  effort  is  thus  found 
•whenever  non-ins  tine  five  motives  to  behavior  are  to  rule  the  day.'1''  (P.  536.) 

Of  course,  if  we  proceed  a  priori  and  define  the  line  of  least  resistance  as  the 
line  that  is  followed,  the  physical  law  must  hold  good  in  the  mental  sphere.  But 
we  feel,  in  all  hard  cases  of  volition,  as  if  the  line  taken  when  the  rarer  and  more 
ideal  motives  prevail  were  the  line  of  greater  resistance,  and  as  if  the  line  of  coarser 


CRITICISMS.  135 

motivation  were  the  more  pervious  and  easy  one,  even  at  the  very  moment  when  we 
refuse  to  follow  it.  He  who  under  the  surgeon's  knife  represses  cries  of  pain,  or  he 
who  exposes  himself  to  social  obloquy  for  duty's  sake,  feels  as  if  he  were  following 
the  line  of  greatest  temporary  resistance.  He  speaks  of  conquering  and  overcom- 
ing his  impulses  and  temptations. 

1 '  But  the  sluggard,  the  drunkard,  the  coward,  never  talk  of  their  conduct  in 
that  way  or  say  they  resist  their  energy,  overcome  their  sobriety,  conquer  their 
courage,  and  so  forth.  If  in  general  we  class  all  springs  of  action  as  propensities 
on  the  one  hand  and  ideals  on  the  other,  the  sensualist  never  says  of  his  behavior 
that  it  results  from  a  victory  over  his  ideals,  but  the  moralist  always  speaks  of  his 
as  a  victory  over  his  propensities.  The  sensualist  uses  terms  of  inactivity,  says  he 
forgets  his  ideals,  is  deaf  to  duty,  and  so  forth  ;  which  terms  seem  to  imply  that  the 
ideal  motives  per  se  can  be  annulled  without  energy  or  effort,  and  that  the  strongest 
mere  traction  lies  in  the  line  of  the  propensities.  The  ideal  impulse  appears,  in 
comparison  with  this,  a  still  small  voice  which  must  be  reinforced  to  prevail.  Effort 
is  what  reinforces  it,  making  things  seem  as  if,  while  the  force  of  propensity  were 
essentially  a  fixed  quantity,  the  ideal  force  might  be  of  various  amount.  But  what 
determines  the  amount  of  the  effort  when  by  its  aid  an  ideal  motive  becomes  victor- 
ious over  a  great  sensual  resistance  ?  The  very  greatness  of  the  resistance  itself. 
If  the  sensual  propensity  is  small,  the  effort  is  small.  The  latter  is  made  great  by 
the  presence  of  a  great  antagonist  to  overcome.  And  if  a  brief  definition  of  ideal  or 
moral  action  were  required,  none  could  be  given  which  would  better  fit  the  appear- 
ances than  this  :  It  is  action  in  the  line  of  the  greatest  resistance''''  (pp.  548-549). 

It  seems  to  be  plainly  implied  in  the  foregoing  passages  that  the  feeling  of 
effort,  in  the  sense  in  which  the  term  is  used  here,  only  arises  in  the  case  of  a  con- 
flict between  "ideals"  and  "propensities,"  in  which  the  former  prevail.  This  does 
not  strike  me  as  in  accordance  with  the  facts.  So  far  as  I  can  see,  all  that  is  neces- 
sary is  that  the  alternative  which  is  renounced  should  still  be  strongly  desired.  In 
fact,  in  another  passage,  Prof essor  James  seems  to  admit  that  such  may  be  the  case-  : 

' '  Whether  it  be  the  dreary  resignation  for  the  sake  of  austere  and  naked  duty 
of  all  sorts  of  rich  mundane  delights,  or  whether  it  be  the  heavy  resolve  that  of  two 
mutually  exclusive  trains  of  future  fact,  both  sweet  and  good,  and  with  no  strictly 
objective  or  imperative  principle  of  choice  between  them,  one  shall  forevermore  be- 
come impossible,  while  the  other  shall  become  reality,  it  is  a  desolate  and  arid  sort 
of  act,  an  excursion  into  a  lonesome  moral  wilderness"  (p.  534). 

The  second  of  these  supposed  cases  does  not  seem  to  involve  a  choice  between 
more  and  less  ideal  motives,  and  I  think  the  experience  of  every  one  will  supply  him 
with  instances  enough  in  which  we  are  called  upon  to  decide  how  we  shall  use  our 
time  or  our  money  between  things  which  seem  equally  legitimate  objects  of  desire, 
neither  of  which  can  be  easily  given  up.  Shall  a  man  devote  his  leisure  time  to 
literature,  science,  travel,  or  social  intercourse  ;  his  limited  means  to  the  purchase 
of  books  or  works  of  art ;  shall  he  get  the  good  of  the  present  hour,  at  the  risk  of 
future  destitution,  or  spend  his  time  and  hoard  his  means  for  provision  against  a 
future  day  which  he  may  never  see  ?  In  such  cases  as  these,  one  set  of  motives  need 
be  no  more  instinctive  than  the  other,  but  I  fancy  that  there  are  few  who  have  not 
experienced  a  feeling  of  effort  in  making  such  decisions. 


136  THE  MON1ST. 

But  even  in  choices  between  "ideals"  and  "propensities,"  I  do  not  think  it  is 
true  that  the  feeling  of  effort  is  confined  to  the  cases  in  which  the  former  prevail. 
Nothing  is  more  instinctive  than  the  love  of  life  ;  nothing  more  ideal  than  the  love 
of  truth  ;  yet  I  do  not  believe  that  it  was  without  an  effort  that  Galileo  repudiated 
his  deepest  convictions,  nor  do  I  doubt  that  those  martyrs  who  were  made  of  sterner 
stuff  found  it  easier  to  die  for  the  truth  than  to  deny  it.  I  do  not  even  believe  that 
non-instinctive  motives  always  prevail  with  effort.  An  honest  man  need  not  be  con- 
scious of  an  effort  in  refraining  from  pocketing  his  neighbor's  spoons  when  he  has 
the  opportunity.  Patriotism,  benevolence,  a  sense  of  honor,  religious  principle  may 
take  such  possession  of  the  mind  of  a  man  who  is  by  no  means  destitute  of  feelings 
of  self-interest  that  there  will  not  be  a  moment's  hesitation  if  they  conflict.  Benja- 
min Franklin  had  a  very  keen  eye  for  the  main  chance,  but  I  do  not  believe  that  he 
would  have  felt  a  pecuniary  bribe  to  betray  his  country  as  very  much  of  a  tempta- 
tion. I  have  no  doubt  that  at  the  present  time  there  are  among  Professor  James's 
pupil's  men  who  "scorn  delights,  and  live  laborious  days,"  joyfully  and  enthusias- 
tically, for  the  love  of  knowledge  or  the  hope  of  fame,  for  intellectual  or  physical 
preeminence.  What  would  a  member  of  the  Harvard  foot-ball  team  say  to  the  prop- 
osition that  his  resolution  to  give  up  his  wine  and  cigars  rather  than  that  the  athletic 
glory  of  his  alma  mater  should  be  dimmed  was  "  a  desolate  and  arid  act  "  ?  This 
is  a  hard  enough  world  as  it  is,  but  it  would  be  much  harder  if  the  pursuit  of  the 
ideal  were  always  such  dreary  business  as  seems  to  be  implied  in  the  passages  quoted 
above. 

I  think,  then,  it  is  sufficiently  clear  that  the  feeling  of  effort  in  making  a  deci- 
sion does  not  either  uniformly  or  exclusively  accompany  those  decisions  in  which 
the  less  instinctive,  more  ideal  motive  carries  the  day.  Nevertheless,  it  certainly  is 
true  that  in  cases  in  which  what  we  feel  to  be  the  higher  motive  prevails,  we  do  say 
and  feel  that  we  have  been  victorious  ;  that  our  efforts  have  overcome  the  tempta- 
tion. The  reason  of  this,  it  seems  to  me,  is  that  we  feel  that  we  are  more  truly  our- 
selves in  our  calm,  dispassionate  moments,  than  in  the  presence  of  a  powerful  temp- 
tation. Even  in  the  struggle,  we  feel  that  if  we  do  what  we  have  condemned  before- 
hand, we  shall  regret  it  afterward. 

I  do  not,  accordingly,  believe  that  "action  in  the  line  of  greatest  resistance' 
has  any  more  place  in  the  moral  than  the  physical  world.  If  a  man,  at  the  moment 
of  decision,  loves  ease  more  than  fame,  or  fears  death  more  than  dishonor,  he  will 
follow  the  prompting  of  the  stronger  feeling  as  surely  as  the  stone  falls  to  the  ground 
or  the  sparks  fly  upward.  The  whole  aim  of  moral  education  is  to  render  the  line 
of  our  ideals  that  of  least  resistance — to  make  it  easy  to  do  right,  and  hard  to  do 
wrong.  It  is  not  completely  successful  until  right  action  is  a  delight.  I  suspect  it 
may  have  occurred  to  some  of  my  readers,  after  having  successfully  resisted  the 
temptation  to  do  some  discreditable  act,  to  feel,  not  proud  of  the  victory,  but  ashamed 
that  it  should  have  cost  a  struggle. 

Of  the  section  on  "  Pleasure  and  Pain  as  Springs  of  Action  "   I  will  only  say 


CRITICISMS.  137 

that  it  does  not  seem  to  me  to  be  pertinent  to  the  subject  under  discussion.  To 
show,  as  Professor  James  does,  that  reflex,  instinctive,  and  emotional  acts  are  not 
excited  by  the  thought  of  the  pleasure  or  pain  that  is  to  result  from  them,  throws 
no  light  on  the  phenomena  of  will,  if  we  follow  him  in  considering  them  all  primary 
performances,  as  contrasted  with  voluntary  movements,  which  are  secondary  func-  ' 
tions  of  our  organism  (p.  487).  Whether  we  are  to  call  all  the  incentives  to  volun- 
tary action  pleasures  and  pains  or  not,  does  not  seem  to  me  very  important.  Pro- 
fessor James  seems  to  think,  for  example,  that  sympathy,  as  a  motive,  is  an  instance 
to  the  contrary.  I  should  say  that,  in  my  own  case,  sympathy  is  a  pleasure  in  the 
happiness  and  pain  in  the  suffering  of  others,  but  if  he  does  not  find  it  so,  and  thinks 
I  am  mistaken  in  so  thinking,  I  will  not  quarrel  with  him.  But  it  is  important  that 
we  should  not  lose  sight  of  the  distinction  between  voluntary  and  involuntary  ac- 
tions. When  we  wish,  desire,  choose,  prefer,  to  do  an  act,  rather  than  to  abstain 
from  acting  or  to  do  something  else,  then,  and  only  then,  in  my  view  of  the  matter, 
is  it  voluntary. 

I  have  already  discussed  the  matter  of  ideo-motor  action  in  this  relation.  In 
the  case  of  morbid  impulsion,  which  he  instances,  the  condition  seems  to  be  much 
the  same  as  in  many  cases  of  instinctive  or  habitual  action.  If  there  is  no  opposing 
motive,  the  impulse  produces  its  appropriate  muscular  actions.  I  had  once  under 
my  observation  an  insane  girl  who  had  an  uncontrollable  impulse  to  tear  her  cloth- 
ing into  strips,  tie  knots  in  the  ends  of  the  strips  and  bite  them  off.  She  realised 
perfectly  well  what  she  was  doing,  and  talked  very  sensibly  about  it.  She  would 
say  she  didn't  know  why  she  did  it  ;  it  was  a  great  pity  ;  her  mother  could  not  afford 
to  have  the  clothing  destroyed,  but  she  couldn't  help  it,  all  the  time  going  on  with 
the  work  of  destruction.  She  was  not  by  any  means  destitute  of  feelings  of  delicacy, 
but  that  did  not  deter  her  from  destroying  her  clothing  to  the  last  rag  if  it  was  not 
sooner  replaced.  Although  she  did  not  appear  to  take  any  pleasure  in  the  work  of 
destruction,  I  do  not  doubt  that  it  would  have  been  intolerably  painful  for  her  to 
refrain  from  it  for  any  length  of  time.  A  person  contending  against  such  an  im- 
pulse is  like  one  hanging  by  his  hands  over  a  precipice.  He  does  not  expect  any 
pleasure  in  letting  go,  but  the  effort  of  holding  on  becomes  intolerable,  and  he  very 
likely  lets  go  when  he  is  not  physically  incapable  of  holding  on  a  little  longer. 

We  may  now  proceed  to  consider  the  author's  views  on  the  subject  of  the  rela- 
tion of  Attention  to  Will. 

"In  closing  in,  therefore,  after  all  these  preliminaries,  upon  the  more  intimate 
nature  of  the  volitional  process,  we  find  ourselves  driven  more  and  more  exclusively 
to  consider  the  conditions  which  make  ideas  prevail  in  the  mind.  With  the  preva- 
lence, once  there  as  a  fact,  of  the  motive  idea,  the  psychology  of  volition  properly 
stops.  The  movements  which  ensue  are  exclusively  physiological  phenomena,  fol- 
lowing according  to  physiological  laws  upon  the  neural  events  to  which  the  idea 
corresponds"  (pp.  559-560). 

"  We  have  now  brought  things  to  a  point  at  which  we  see  that  attention  with 
effort  is  all  that  any  case  of  volition  implies.  The  essential  achievement  of  the  7i-/7/, 


138  THE  MONIST. 

in  short,  when  it  is  most  '  voluntary, '  is  to  attend  to  a  difficult  object  and  hold  if  fast 
before  the  mind.  The  so-doing  is  the  fiat ;  and  it  is  a  mere  physiological  incident 
that  when  the  object  is  thus  attended  to,  immediate  motor  consequences  should 
ensue"  (p.  561). 

"Effort  of  attention  is  thus  the  essential  phenomenon  of  will.  Every  reader 
must  know  by  his  experience  that  this  is  so,  for  every  reader  must  have  felt  some 
fiery  passion's  grasp.  What  constitutes  the  difficulty  for  a  man  laboring  under 
an  unwise  passion  of  acting  as  if  the  passion  were  unwise  ?  Certainly  there  is  no 
physical  difficulty.  It  is  as  easy,  physically,  to  avoid  a  fight,  as  to  begin  one  ;  to 
pocket  one's  money,  as  to  squander  it  on  one's  cupidities  ;  to  walk  away  from,  as 
towards  a  coquette's  door.  The  difficulty  is  mental ;  it  is  that  of  getting  the  idea  of 
the  wise  action  to  stay  before  the  mind  at  all."  (Pp.  562-563.) 

Now,  nothing  can  be  clearer  to  my  mind  than  that  in  such  a  case  as  this,  it  is 
nothing  but  the  presence  of  the  idea  of  the  wise  action  in  the  mind  that  causes  us 
to  hesitate.  Without  it,  we  should  follow  the  dictates  of  passion  immediately, 
without  hesitation  or  misgiving.  So  far  is  it  from  being  universally  true,  as  argued 
by  Professor  James  in  the  following  sentences,  too  long  for  quotation,  that  reason- 
able ideas  will  always  prevail  if  they  can  get  a  fair  hearing,  that  it  has  passed  into 
a  proverb  that  "  the  woman  who  deliberates  is  lost."  When  we  have  decided  be- 
forehand how  we  ought  to  act  in  the  presence  of  a  temptation,  everybody  knows 
that  the  only  safe  course,  when  the  emergency  arises,  is  to  act  first,  as  we  had  re- 
solved, and  reflect  afterwards.  That  is  not  the  time  for  a  quiet  hearing  of  the 
arguments  which  oppose  our  passion.  Reason  may,  it  is  true,  come  out  victorious 
in  such  a  contest,  but  the  advantage  of  position  is  with  the  enemy. 

But  what  is  the  process  in  case  that,  after  deliberation,  we  follow  our  propen- 
sity rather  than  our  ideal  ?  It  seems  to  me  that  it  is  the  rarest  thing  in  the  world 
for  us  to  drop  the  motive  to  the  contrary  course  out  of  sight.  Usually,  one  of  two 
things  happens  :  either  we  persuade  ourselves  for  the  time  that  we  may  escape  the 
consequences  of  our  folly,  or  passion  gets  such  a  mastery  that  we  determine  to 
brave  them.  The  difficulty  is  not  at  all  in  getting  the  reasonable  course  of  action 
to  stay  before  the  mind ;  it  is  that,  in  comparison  with  the  opposing  motive,  it  does 
not  seem  desirable,  as  when  we  consider  both  dispassionately. 

Granting,  for  the  sake  of  the  argument,  that  we  may,  by  an  effort  of  attention, 
exclude  one  or  the  other  of  two  sets  of  motives,  between  which  we  are  undecided, 
from  the  mind,  the  question  still  remains,  how  we  come  to  make  this  effort  of  atten- 
tion. According  to  Professor  James  :  "  We  never  make  an  effort  to  attend  to  an 
object,  except  for  the  sake  of  some  remote  interest  which  the  effort  will  serve." 
(Vol.  I,  p  416.)  That  is,  if  I  understand  him,  voluntary  effort  is  effort  prompted 
by  desire.  The  schoolboy,  studying  a  dull  lesson,  recalls  his  wandering  thoughts 
to  the  book  before  him  again  and  again,  because,  for  one  reason  or  another,  he 
wishes  to  learn  his  lesson.  His  father,  in  his  shop  or  his  office,  takes  pains  to  fix 
in  his  mind  a  multitude  of  uninteresting  details — the  prices  of  various  commodities, 
the  names,  residences,  occupations,  and  tastes  of  a  multitude  of  persons  in  them- 


CRITICISMS.  139 

selves  indifferent  to  him,  because  he  expects  and  wishes  to  turn  the  knowledge  to 
pecuniary  profit.  Many  unwelcome  things  force  themselves  on  our  attention,  but 
my  readers  must  have  differently  constituted  minds  from  mine  if  they  can  imagine 
themselves  making  an  effort  to  attend  to  a  thing  which  at  the  same  time  they  wish 
to  banish  from  the  mind. 

The  relation  of  attention  to  will,  therefore,  seems  to  me  precisely  the  reverse 
of  that  asserted  by  Professor  James.  Voluntary  attention,  like  voluntary  muscular 
action,  is  the  result  of  will.  If  we  desire  to  make  a  movement,  and  nothing  hin- 
ders, the  movement  comes  to  pass.  If  we  desire  to  attend  to  something,  we  attend 
to  it,  for  the  moment,  at  least,  and  the  relation  of  the  desire  to  its  accomplishment 
seems  to  me  strictly  analogous  in  the  two  cases.  In  the  one  case,  the  muscular 
movement,  in  the  other,  the  attention,  is  thought  of  as  the  means  of  securing  the 
desired  end.  If  either  comes  to  pass  in  any  other  way  than  as  a  means  to  a  desired 
end,  I  deny  its  voluntary  character. 

When  Professor  James  says,  as  already  quoted,  that  "the  essential  achieve- 
ment of  the  will  ...  is  to  attend  to.  a  difficult  object  and  hold  it  fast  before  the 
mind,"  it  is  evident  that  the  object  to  which  he  refers  is  not  the  action  itself,  but  its 
consequences.  When  I  hesitate,  for  instance,  whether  or  not  to  make  a  purchase, 
which  I  feel  I  can  ill  afford,  it  is  not  the  action  of  taking  the  money  out  of  my 
pocket  and  handing  it  over  that  occupies  my  thoughts,  but  the  idea,  on  the  one 
hand,  of  the  pleasure  of  possessing  the  desired  object,  and,  on  the  other,  of  the  in- 
convenience of  not  having  the  money  it  would  cost.  Now,  whether  fixing  our  atten- 
tion on  the  consequences  of  an  act  shall  have  any  tendency  to  excite  movements  or 
not,  and  if  so,  what  the  movements  shall  be,  depends  on  the  state  of  our  feelings  in 
regard  to  them.  The  thought  that  if  I  put  a  paper  in  the  fire  it  will  be  burned,  or 
that  if  I  throw  a  stone  through  my  window  it  will  break  the  glass,  excites  no  move- 
ment, because  I  have  no  desire  for  either  result.  If  a  young  lady  has  an  offer  of 
marriage,  the  movements  which  it  will  excite  will  not  depend  on  the  amount  of  at- 
tention she  gives  it,  but  on  her  disposition  in  regard  to  the  person  making  it.  That 
is,  while  in  ideo-motor  action  the  mere  thought  of  the  movement  is  sufficient  to  set 
off  the  nervous  mechanism  in  such  a  way  as  to  produce  it,  in  such  a  case  as  this, 
the  movements  are  determined,  not  by  the  thought  of  the  words  of  acceptance  or 
refusal,  but  by  the  subject's  feeling  in  regard  to  the  results  which  will  follow  their 
utterance — an  essentially  different  state  of  affairs. 

Professor  James  qualifies  the  statements  made  in  the  passages  quoted  above,  as 
follows  : 

"  Itvis  unqualifiedly  true  that  if  any  thought  do  fill  the  mind  exclusively,  such 
filling  is  consent.  The  thought,  for  that  time,  at  any  rate,  carries  the  man  and  his 
will  with  it.  But  it  is  not  true  that  the  thought  need  to  fill  the  mind  exclusively  for 
consent  to  be  there  ;  for  we  often  consent  to  things,  while  thinking  of  other  things, 
even  of  hostile  things  ;  and  we  saw  in  fact  that  precisely  what  distinguishes  our 
'  fifth  type'  of  decision  frcm  other  types  (see  p.  534)  is  just  this  existence  with  the 


140  THE   MON1ST. 

triumphant   thought  of  other   thoughts  which   would  inhibit  it  but  for  the  effort 

which  makes  it  prevail So  that  although  attention  is  the  first  and  fudamental 

thing  in  volition,  express  consent  to  tJie  reality  of  the  thing  attended  to  is  often    an 
additional  and  quite  distinct  phenomenon  involved. 

"  The  reader's  own  consciousness  tells  him,  of  course,  just  what  these  words  of 
mine  denote.  And  I  freely  confess  that  I  am  impotent  to  carry  the  analysis  of  the 
matter  any  farther,  or  to  explain  in  other  terms  of  what  this  consent  consists.  It 
seems  a  subjective  experience  sui  generis,  which  we  can  designate,  but  not  define." 
(P.  568.) 

I  have,  perhaps,  already  said  as  much  as  is  necessary  in  regard  to  the  feeling 
of  effort.  We  have  it  whenever  we  renounce  what,  at  the  time,  we  strongly  desire. 
Professor  James  makes  a  mystery  here  of  what  seems  to  me  a  very  plain  and  simple 
matter.  I  should  use  a  stronger  word  than  "  consent  "  to  express  my  state  of  mind 
in  such  a  case  as  he  is  considering.  So  far  as  my  consciousness  informs  me,  when 
I  come  to  a  difficult  decision,  it  is  always  by  a  choice  or  preference  of  one  alterna- 
tive over  the  other.  Both  may  be,  in  themselves,  undesirable ;  but  in  comparison, 
one  must  be  more  desirable  than  the  other.  I  do  not  wish  to  lose  my  money,  but  I 
would  rather  lose  my  money  than  my  life.  The  preference  of  one  thing  to  another 
may  be  an  experience  sui  generis  and  incapable  of  further  analysis,  but  it  is  as  in- 
telligible as  anything  in  the  working  of  our  minds. 

In  what  does  the  "  fiat,"  of  which  so  much  is  said,  consist?  I  presume  I  shall 
not  carry  the  assent  of  all,  perhaps  not  of  many,  of  my  readers  in  what  I  am  about 
to  say,  but  I  am  unable,  in  my  own  case,  to  find  anything  more  or  less  in  it  than 
the  combination  of  desire  with  the  feeling  of  power  that  the  contemplated  act  may 
take  place  now.  It  seems  to  me  that  the  line  of  argument  by  which  Professor  James 
disposes  of  the  feeling  of  innervation  is  equally  applicable  here.  When  we  have 
this  combination  of  feelings  we  have  volition,  and  under  no  other  circumstances. 
If  we  suppose  the  "fiat"  to  be  something  distinct,  how  can  we  distinguish  it  from 
that  without  which  we  never  experience  it,  and  which  we  never  experience  without 
it  ?  We  are  so  made  that  when  we  wish  and  feel  able  to  act  we  act,  and  the  inser- 
tion of  any  additional  factor  is  an  entire  superfluity. 

To  recapitulate :  Professor  James's  argument,  as  I  understand  it,  is  that,  inas- 
much as  we  perform  a  multitude  of  acts  which  are  incited  merely  by  the  thought  of 
the  movement,  without  respect  to  its  consequences,  and  when  the  idea  of  an  act 
takes  entire  possession  of  the  mind,  the  act  is  inevitably  performed,  it  follows  that 
attention  to  the  act  itself — that  is,  the  bodily  movements — is  the  only  essential  con- 
stituent of  its  voluntary  nature,  and  that  desire  or  aversion,  in  respect  to  its  conse- 
quences, is,  in  this  regard,  only  an  accidental  and-  superfluous  accompaniment, 
which,  so  far  as  it  can  be  considered  operative  at  all,  acts  only  by  directing  our  at- 
tention. 

I  hold,  on  the  other  hand,  that,  by  the  well-established  use  of  language,  only 
those  acts  are  termed  voluntary  which  are  performed  intentionally,  purposely,  by 
preference  or  choice.  This  choice  may  be  between  two  or  more  courses  of  action, 


CRITICISMS.  141 

or  between  action  and  inaction,  but  in  either  case  it  is  determined,  not  by  the 
thought  of  the  action  itself,  but  by  our  desire  or  preference  of  its  anticipated  re- 
sults. The  amount  of  attention  directed  to  the  act  itself  may  be  reduced  to  a  mini- 
mum without  impairing  its  voluntary  character,  provided  it  is  done  with  a  conscious 
purpose. 

This  brings  us  back  to  the  statement  of  the  case  by  Professor  James,  with  which 
we  started  out.  Our  choices  or  preferences  are  merely  the  predominances  of  our 
desires,  or.  what  is  the  same  thing  looked  at  from  the  other  side,  our  aversions. 
Desire  of  the  result,  not  attention  to  the  means  of  securing  it,  is,  to  my  mind,  the 
fundamental  thing  in  voluntary  action. 

Professor  James  does  not  attempt  any  exhaustive  discussion  of  the  question  of 
"  Free  Will."  He  considers  the  question  insoluble  on  logical  grounds,  and  after  a 
very  clear  and  fair  statement  of  the  scientific  argument  for  determinism  from  the 
unity  and  continuity  of  nature,  decides  in  favor  of  the  hypothesis  of  freedom  on 
ethical  grounds,  the  nature  of  which  is  indicated  in  the  following  passages  : 

"  The  most  that  any  argument  can  do  for  determinism  is  to  make  it  a  clear  and 
seductive  conception,  which  a  man  is  foolish  not  to  espouse,  so  long  as  he  stands  by 
the  great  scientific  postulate  that  the  world  must  be  one  unbroken  fact,  and  that 
prediction  of  all  things  without  exception  must  be  ideally,  if  not  actually,  possible. 
It  is  a  moral  postulate  about  the  Universe,  the  postulate  that  ivhat  ought  to  be  can 
be,  and  that  bad  acts  cannot  be  fated,  but  tJiat  good  ones  must  be  possible  in  their  place, 
which  would  lead  one  to  espouse  the  contrary  view.  But  when  scientific  and  moral 
postulates  war  thus  with  each  other  and  objective  proof  is  not  to  be  had,  the  only 
course  is  voluntary  choice,  for  scepticism  itself,  if  systematic,  is  also  voluntary 
choice.  If,  meanwhile,  the  will  be  undetermined,  it  would  seem  only  fitting  that 
the  belief  in  its  indetermination  should  be  voluntarily  chosen  from  amongst  other 
possible  beliefs  "  (p.  573). 

"  TJie  question  of  fact  in  tJie  free-will  controversy  is  thus  extremely  simple.  It 
relates  solely  to  the  amount  of  effort  of  attention  or  consent  which  we  can  at  any 
time  put  forth.  Are  the  duration  and  intensity  of  this  effort  fixed  functions  of  the 
object,  or  are  they  not  ?  Now,  as  I  just  said,  it  seems  as  if  the  effort  were  an  inde- 
pendent variable,  as  if  we  might  exert  more  or  less  of  it  in  a  given  case.  When  a 
man  has  let  his  thoughts  go  for  days  and  weeks  until  they  culminate  at  last  in  some 
particularly  dirty  or  cowardly  or  cruel  act,  it  is  hard  to  persuade  him,  in  the  midst 
of  his  remorse,  that  he  might  not  have  reined  them  in  ;  hard  to  make  him  believe 
that  this  whole  goodly  universe  (which  his  act  so  jars  upon)  required  and  exacted  it 
of  him  at  that  fatal  moment,  and  from  eternity  made  aught  else  impossible.  But, 
on  the  other  hand,  there  is  the  certainty  that  all  his  effortless  volitions  are  resultants 
of  interests  and  associations,  whose  strength  and  sequence  are  mechanically  deter- 
mined by  the  structure  of  that  physical  mass,  his  brain  :  and  the  general  continuity 
of  things  and  the  monistic  conception  of  the  world  may  lead  one  irresistibly  to  pos- 
tulate that  a  little  fact  like  effort  can  form  no  real  exception  to  the  overwhelming 
reign  of  deterministic  law.  Even  in  effortless  volition  we  have  the  consciousness  of 
the  alternative  being  also  possible.  This  is  surely  a  delusion  here  ;  why  is  it  not  a 
delusion  everywhere?  "  (Pp.  571-572). 


142  THE   MONIST. 

If  I  were  seeking  nothing  more  than  a  dialectical  victory,  it  would  be  sufficient 
to  say  that  Professor  James,  on  his  own  premises,  concedes  the  whole  question  in 
the  closing  sentences  above  quoted.  As  we  have  already  seen,  he  insists,  repeatedly 
and  emphatically,  that  effort  of  will  is  only  put  forth  on  the  side  of  our  ideals, 
against  our  instincts  and  propensities  ;  that  we  never  resist  our  energy,  overcome 
our  courage,  or  conquer  our  sobriety.  If  we  accept  this  as  the  fact,  it  must,  of 
course,  follow  that  all  our  bad  decisions  are  decisions  without  effort,  as  it  certainly 
is  the  fact  that  most  of  them  are,  and  we  are  thus,  at  one  stroke,  deprived  of  the 
only  reason,  according  to  our  author,  for  questioning  the  doctrine  of  determinism. 

Taking  the  ground  that  I  do,  that  Will  is  nothing  but  the  combination  of  feel- 
ings of  desire  and  ability,  it  evidently  follows  that  the  question  is  merely  in  regard 
to  the  freedom  of  desire.  That  is,  are  our  likings  and  dislikings,  either  absolutely 
or  relatively  to  each  other,  under  our  control  ?  Of  course  we  are  free  from  external 
coercion  in  such  matters.  No  one  can  compel  us  to  like  the  taste  of  castor  oil  better 
than  that  of  honey,  the  odor  of  onions  than  that  of  violets,  the  braying  of  an  ass 
than  the  touch  of  a  master  hand  on  the  keys  of  the  organ,  but  can  we  compel  our- 
selves to  do  it  ?  I  do  not  of  course  deny  that  we  can,  by  habit  and  association,  work 
great  changes  in  our  tastes.  The  question  is  as  to  our  ability  to  change  them  ab- 
ruptly, by  an  effort  of  attention,  or  of  consent,  or  what  not.  There  is  no  doubt  that 
it  would  be  very  convenient  if  we  could  gain  such  control  of  our  feelings  that  the 
.old  saying  might  be  made  to  read,  even  at  the  expense  of  rhyme,  "  What  can't  be 
cured  must  be  enjoyed"  but  I  presume  few  will  maintain  that  their  will  can  accom- 
plish so  much  as  that.  Yet  such  is  the  only  meaning  which,  to  my  mind,  the  asser- 
tion can  have  that  we  can,  by  such  effort,  give  the  preponderance  to  what  is,  in  it- 
self, the  weaker  motive.  What  we  call  motives  are  nothing  but  our  likings  and 
dislikings.  It  may  be  thought  by  some  a  confession  of  weakness  of  will,  but  I  am 
unable  to  imagine  myself  voluntarily  doing  an  act  which  I  expected  would  have  un- 
pleasant consequences  to  myself,  unless  I  felt,  at  the  time,  that  the  results  of  not 
doing  it  would  be  still  more  unpleasant.  And,  although  I  have  abundant  reason  to 
wish  for  a  clearer  perception  of  what  is  good,  I  have  no  desire  for  such  freedom  as 
will  enable  me  to  choose  what  seems  to  me  the  worse. 

This  is  all  I  have  to  say  at  present  in  criticism  of  the  position  of  Professor 
James  in  regard  to  this  subject.  Before  closing,  however,  I  will  briefly  call  atten- 
tion to  an  aspect  of  the  matter  which  does  not  seem  to  me  to  have  attracted  the  at- 
tention it  deserves. 

We  have  seen  that  an  essential  constituent  of  every  volition  is  a  desire  for  a 
state  of  consciousness  different  from  the  present.  But  we  cannot  desire  that  of  which 
we  have  no  conception,  consequently  it  follows  that  imagination  must  play  a  part  in 
every  motive  to  action. 

Unless  I  am  much  mistaken,  what  we  call  strength  of  will  depends  very  largely 
on  imaginative  power.  It  is  not  altogether  easy  to  distinguish  this  quality  from  ob- 
stinacy—the disposition  to  persist  in  a  course  once  undertaken,  independently  of  its 


CRITICISMS.  143 

wisdom.  But  when  we  find  a  man  who,  having  once  settled  upon  a  reasonable 
course  of  action,  pursues  it  to  the  end,  in  spite  of  difficulties  and  discouragements, 
it  will  be  found,  I  think,  that  the  distinguishing  quality  of  his  mind,  as  contrasted 
with  the  fickle  and  vacillating,  consists  in  the  power  of  realising,  at  all  times,  the 
remote,  as  well  as  the  immediate  consequences  of  his  acts.  This  deters  him  from 
hastily  entering  on  courses  of  action  which  he  will  not  be  able  to  carry  though,  and 
when  temptations  to  turn  aside  assail  him,  tjhis  enables  him  to  see  that  they  are  not 
worthy  of  attention  in  comparison  with  the  motives  for  persistence. 

We  have  a  natural  propensity  to  be  more  affected  by  objects  that  are  present 
to  our  senses  than  by  those  that  are  absent,  by  what  we  expect  to  occur  immediately 
than  what  is  in  the  distant  future.  The  child  who  idles  away  the  time  in  which  he 
should  perform  an  allotted  task,  the  savage  who  spends  a  time  of  plenty  in  sloth  and 
gluttony,  both  know  that  the  time  is  coming  when  they  will  have  occasion  to  regret 
their  negligence,  but  they  are  incapable  of  realising  how  they  will  feel  when  it  comes. 
Many  a  soldier,  who  enlisted  with  a  heart  overflowing  with  valor,  has  felt  a  change 
which  he  could  hardly  justifiy  by  logic  come  over  his  estimate  of  the  comparative 
value  of  military  glory  and  a  whole  skin,  when  he  came  under  fire. 

Kinglake,  in  his  "  Eothen,"  relates  that  on  one  occasion  he  engaged  some  of  the 
wandering  Arabs  of  the  desert,  who  have  an  invincible  repugnance  to  cities,  to 
transport  him  and  his  baggage  to  Damascus.  The  bargain  was  explicit,  and  they 
fully  understood  what  was  expected  of  them.  As  they  came  in  sight  of  the  city, 
however,  they  grew  uneasy,  and  began  to  beg  to  be  released  from  their  agreement. 
The  nearer  they  approached,  the  more  their  distress  increased,  till  they  finally  left 
their  camels  and  fled  into  the  desert,  choosing  rather  to  lose  not  only  their  wages 
but  their  property  than  to  enter  the  hated  walls.  He  remarks  that  he  has  no  doubt 
of  their  sincerity  at  the  time  the  bargain  was  made,  but  believes  they  were  incap- 
able of  imagining,  what  would  be  their  feelings  when  they  came  to  carry  it  out. 

St.  Paul  speaks  of  enduring  "  as  seeing  him  who  is  invisible."  The  psychology 
of  strength  of  will  is  condensed  into  that  sentence.  The  man  who  fully  realises  the 
unseen  and  remote  is  not  at  the  mercy  of  every  fresh  impression  on  his  senses.  He 
may  have  little  obstinacy,  and  be  always  ready  to  recede  from  an  opinion  or  a  course 
of  action  that  turns  out  to  have  been  ill-advised.  The  objects  of  his  aspiration  may 
be  worthy  or  unworthy,  real  or  illusory.  But  when  he  has  counted  the  cost,  and 
decided  what  is  most  to  be  desired,  he  moves  on,  steadfastly  and  unswervingly,  to 
the  consummation  of  his  purpose.  Sloth  does  not  enchain  him  ;  passion  does  not 
seduce  him  ;  difficulty  and  danger  do  not  daunt  him. 

"Sifractus  illabatur  or  bis 
Impaviduntferient  ruinae." 

W.  L.  WORCESTER. 


BOOK  REVIEWS. 


A.  BRONSON  ALCOTT,  His  LIFE  AND  PHILOSOPHY.  By  F.  B.  Sanborn  and  William 
T.  Harris.  Boston  :  Roberts  Bros.  1893. 

This  is  one  of  the  most  noteworthy  biographies  of  this  biographical  year.  Mr. 
Alcott  was  a  unique  man,  and  during  his  long  life  of  nearly  ninety  years,  while 
always  retaining  his  intense  personality,  he  was  yet  the  representative  of  much 
that  was  highest  and  holiest  in  thought,  and  noblest  in  action  in  his  times. 

Perhaps  nowhere  but  in  New  England  could  the  same  varied  influences  have 
been  found  and  blended  into  a  character  so  unique  and  so  harmonious  in  itself. 
The  intense  religious  life  of  New  England  was  not  so  much  emotional  as  moral  and 
philosophical.  The  delight  in  the  perfect  logical  sequence  of  the  "  plan  of  salva- 
tion" developed  a  certain  metaphysical  ability  even  in  the  plainest  folk.  It  has 
well  been  said  that  the  Calvinist  was  at  once  an  aristocrat  and  a  democrat.  He  who 
was  ' '  elected  before  the  foundations  of  the  world  "  to  the  highest  honors  of  Heaven, 
could  not  feel  abased  before  any  earthly  dignity,  and  this  gave  a  sense  of  self- 
respect  and  conscious  dignity  which  suited  with  the  equality  of  all  men  before  the 
law.  So  that  not  alone  from  his  English  ancestry,  but  from  the  high  thinking  of 
his  companionship,  Mr.  Alcott  gained  the  fine  manners  which  distinguished  him. 
He  resembled  the  Scotch  pedlar  who,  as  King  James  said,  ' '  could  put  his  pedigree 
in  his  chest,  when  engaged  in  his  calling,  but  bring  it  out  when  a  higher  occasion 
required." 

Mr.  Sanborn  has  shown  the  development  of  Mr.  Alcott1  s  thought  and  charac- 
ter as  even  those  who  have  long  known  him  hardly  understood  it.  He  passed 
through  many  phases  of  life  and  thought,  and  distilled  from  all  the  fine  spirit  of 
life,  which,  if  at  times  a  little  intoxicating,  had  much  of  ripe,  sweet  wisdom,  which 
he  concentrated  into  the  Orphic  sayings,  which  remain  unexhausted  after  many 
years  of  study. 

Belonging  to  his  age,  and  yet  a  perpetual  protest  against  many  of  its  tendencies, 
it  is  difficult  to  estimate  his  influence  rightly,  and  to  strike  the  true  balance  between 
the  ardent  faith  of  his  admirers  on  the  one  hand,  and,  on  the  other,  the  indifference, 
not  to  say  contempt,  not  of  his  enemies,  for  his  nature  was  not  prone  to  warfare, 
but  of  those  who  could  not  see  the  real  man.  But  when  we  remember  that  among 


BOOK  REVIEWS.  145 

those  admirers  were  such  men  as  Emerson,  Thoreau,  Channing,  Hedge,  Harris,  and 
others  of  the  highest  thinkers  of  his  day,  with  such  women  as  Margaret  Fuller  and 
Elizabeth  Peabody,  certainly  nobody  can  pass  by  this  life  carelessly,  without  seek- 
ing to  understand  how  the  pedlar-boy  of  Connecticut  became  the  Philosopher  of 
Concord. 

Fortunately,  Mr.  Alcott  believed  in  records  of  life  and  thought,  and  held  his 
own  to  be  of  value,  and  hence  his  biographers  have  ample  material  from  which  to 
draw  his  protrait.  It  is  good  that  his  features  have  been  painted  by  friendly,  yet 
critical  pens,  for  it  is  not  cold  dissection,  but  loving  insight  which  reveals  the  mys- 
teries of  human  life. 

Born  in  Connecticut,  in  a  farmer's  home,  but  evidently  inheriting  the  constitu- 
tion and  fine  brains  of  an  old  English  ancestry,  Bronson  Alcott  passed  his  early  life 
in  the  country,  and  then  started  on  his  career  as  a  pedlar.  But  his  journeyings  in 
this  humble  capacity  were  made  to  minister  to  his  mental  development,  for  he  ob- 
served men  and  society,  he  read  all  the  books  he  could  lay  his  hand  on,  and  still 
more,  he  was  thrown  into  temptation  and  learned  to  know  his  own  strength  and 
weakness.  He  confesses  to  have  committed,  on  one  of  these  journeys,  the  only 
serious  transgression  of  moral  law  of  which  probably  he  was  ever  guilty  in  his  long 
and  innocent  life.  Tempted  by  the  desire  of  seeing  the  cities  and  of  appearing  in 
fine  clothes,  for  he  always  had  a  great  love  of-*handsomeness,  he  used  the  money, 
which  should  have  paid  for  his  stock,  to  gratify  his  taste,  and  then,  repentant  and 
ashamed,  went  home  to  grieve  his  mother's  heart.  The  sense  of  this  error  remained 
with  him  for  long  years  and  may  have  influenced  him  in  his  working  out  of  the 
problem  of  evil,  which,  Mr  Harris  shows,  was  the  basis  of  his  philosophy. 

His  next  pursuit  was  that  of  teaching,  equally  characteristic  of  New  England 
life,  and  here  he  found  his  true  calling.  At  first,  while  his  diaries  are  full  of  earnest 
thought,  they  do  not  reveal  the  strong  peculiarities  and  extreme  following  out  of 
new  ideas  which  appeared  later.  His  style  of  writing  is  clear  and  reasonable,  and 
his  methods  of  teaching  appear  to  have  met  with  acceptance.  He  had  already  to 
some  extent  anticipated  the  work  of  Theodore  Parker  in  Theology,  and  his  views  of 
education  were  akin  to  those  of  Pestalozzi  and  Froebel,  as  yet  unknown  to  him. 

He  believed  in  attraction  for  the  child,  rather  than  coercion,  and  strove  to  edu- 
cate the  whole  nature,  rather  than  merely  to  instruct  the  intellect.  The  influence 
of  the  "  Friends,"  with  whom  he  had  passed  some  time,  led  him  to  the  doctrine  of  the 
"  Inner  Light,"  which  was  strongly  in  harmony  with  his  own  nature. 

As  he  went  on  developing  his  own  plans  of  education,  he  became  still  more 
separated  from  the  common  traditions,  and  when  he  attempted  to  carry  out  his  ideas 
fully  in  the  Temple  School  in  Boston,  his  extreme  methods  in  discipline  and  instruc- 
tion failed  to  win  the  approval  of  the  parents,  or  to  influence  the  children  as  deeply 
as  he  expected.  It  would  be  very  interesting  if  some  of  his  pupils,  now  having  full 
experience  of  life,  would  tell  us  how  much  of  value  remained  to  them  from  his  les- 
sons. In  addition  to  the  peculiarities  of  his  method,  he  ran  counter  to  the  despic- 


146  THE  MONIST. 

able  prejudices  of  the  day,  by  admitting  colored  children  to  the  school,  and  he  was 
assailed  in  the  newspapers  with  wholly  unpardonable  virulence.  He  was  warmly 
defended  by  Mr.  Emerson,  who  always  believed  in  him,  loved  him,  and  was  his 
good  providence  in  every  emergency. 

The  story  of  Mr.  Alcott's  marriage  to  one  who  comprehended  his  high  thought 
and  loved  him  devotedly  through  all  trials,  brightens  the  somewhat  sad  history  of 
his  failures  ;  and  the  sonnets,  written  in  old  age,  in  which  he  recalls  those  days  of 
early  love,  are  clear  and  sweet  as  the  song  of  the  oriole  amid  the  blossoming  of 
May. 

It  was  during  his  early  married  life  that  he  seemed  to  lose  the  >just  estimate  of 
practical  affairs  and  not  to  hold  an  even  balance  between  theory  and  practice.  To 
this  period  belong  the  anecdotes  of  his  odd  sayings  and  doings.  He  afterwards 
could  look  back  on  these  extravagances  with  a  smile,  remembering  the  chill  of  a 
voyage  on  a  Hingham  steamboat  when  he  was  "clothed  all"  in  linen,  because  he 
would  not  deprive  the  sheep  of  their  covering,  and  lending  money  to  unknown 
people  without  even  asking  their  names,  his  faith  in  its  return  in  some  cases  being 
fully  justified. 

The  most  serious  of  these  experiments,  which  came  near  to  wrecking  his  sanity 
and  life,  was  the  attempted  colony  at  Fruitlands,  of  which  his  gifted  daughter  has 
told  the  story  with  all  possible  humor  and  pathos  in  her  sketch,  called  "  Transcen- 
dental Wild  Oats." 

But,  during  all  this  time  he  was  fully  interested  in  the  great  moral  crusade 
against  slavery,  seeing,  as  clearly  as  Garrison  and  Parker,  that  it  was  a  burden  of 
sin  that  must  be  cast  off  before  the  nation  could  be  led  to  righteousness.  He  took 
a  brave  part  in  the  efforts  to  redeem  the  victims  of  the  Fugitive  Slave  Law. 

He  heartily  accepted  the  movement  for  the  intellectual  advancement  of  women 
and  their  admission  to  the  exercise  of  the  right  of  suffrage,  for  his  pure  and  spiritual 
nature  made  him  understand  women  as  fully  as  they  believed  in  him.  There  was 
always  a  good  proportion  of  women  in  his  classes  for  conversation,  and  to  the  last, 
young  women  found  in  his  utterances  at  the  Concord  School  the  same  sense  of  a 
fresh,  reviving  spiritual  atmosphere  that  their  elders  had  found  from  his  words, 
(and  they  were  the  same  words,)  thirty  years  before. 

Beautiful  is  the  story  of  the  family-life,  with  the  generous,  warm-hearted 
mother,  who  always  kept  close  to  her  children's  hearts,  and  of  the  work  of  the  de- 
voted daughter,  which  at  last  brought  prosperity  to  all  the  family  and  gave  the  phi- 
losopher a  serene  and  comfortable  old  age. 

Mr.  Alcott  has  been  called  vain  and  egotistic,  but  I  think  he  never  felt  a  keener 
thrill  of  pride  than  when  he  was  welcomed  in  Western  schools  as  the  "Grandfather 
of  Little  Women." 

In  his  quiet  retreat  he  reviewed  the  old  traditions  from  which  he  had  separated 
in  his  youth,  and  found  meaning  and  sweetness  in  much  that  he  had  then  cast  aside. 
This  broad  catholicity  was  misunderstood,  and  it  was  often  reported  that  he  had 


BOOK  REVIEWS.  147 

changed  his  views  and  joined  some  exclusive  church.  But  he  took  no  backward 
step  !  It  was  remarkable  that  with  his  high  standard  of  thought,  his  elevation  of 
feeling,  his  love  for  order  and  beauty  and  handsomeness,  which  sometimes  gave  a 
touch  of  high  breeding,  which  some  would  call  aristocratic  to  his  manners  and 
surroundings,  he  never  fell  into  a  reactionary  spirit,  he  never  lost  faith  in  the  heart 
of  mankind.  If  he  believed  in  a  government  of  the  best,  he  judged  of  the  best  by 
no  conventional  standards.  If  his  heart  yearned  for  communion  with  his  fellows, 
he  did  not  purchase  the  delight  by  any  sacrifice  of  his  own  allegiance  to  truth.  But 
he  did  love  a  recipient  soul  to  whom  he  could  express  his  own  thought.  And  he 
gained  from  a  sympathy,  which  was  not  always  accompanied  by  intellectual  com- 
prehension. 

The  charm  of  his  manners,  the  sweetness  of  his  disposition,  the  tenderness  of 
his  feelings,  and  the  warmth  of  his  friendships  are  well  portrayed  by  Mr.  Sanborn, 
who  touches  his  little  foibles  lightly,  only  making  them  serve  to  bring  out  his  indi- 
viduality. He  also  presents  a  great  deal  of  collateral  information  about  persons 
and  contemporary  events,  which  will  have  value  for  lovers  of  curiosities  in  litera- 
terature,  but  which  sometimes  impedes  the  flow  and  clearness  of  the  narrative. 

To  Mr.  Harris  was  committed  the  task,  which  no  other  could  do  so  well,  of 
presenting  his  philosophic  ideas  in  logical  order  and  showing  their  relation  to  the 
systems  of  preceding  thinkers. 

Mr.  Harris  finds  Mr.  Alcott  to  be  an  original  thinker  of  great  power,  who  by 
his  own  inward  perception  of  spiritual  truths  reached  the  same  doctrines  which 
were  held  by  the  Neo-Platonists.  He  was  not  learned  by  the  scholastic  standard, 
but  he  absorbed  the  thought  of  the  writers  to  whom  he  was  attracted  and  blended 
it  with  his  own  spiritual  life.  Mr.  Harris  reveals  a  sequence  and  consistenby  in 
his  philosophy,  which  a  less  acute  reader  might  not  easily  find. 

All  Mr.  Alcott's  theories  cluster  about  the  lapse  or  fall  of  man  from  a  state  of 
original  purity,  and  he  finds  the  meaning  of  human  life  in  an  effort  to  return  to 
primitive  holiness. 

While  his  expression  of  this  thought  is  peculiar  to  himself,  one  cannot  but  see 
how  the  influence  of  the  Calvinistic  theology  all  about  him,  (although  his  imme- 
diate connection  was  with  the  Episcopal  church,)  must  have  prepared  his  mind  to 
accept  this  solution  of  the  great  problem  of  Evil. 

I  well  remember  an  ardent  discussion  between  him  and  William  H.  Channing 
(who  was,  of  course,  brought  up  under  Unitarian  influences,  and  who  ardently 
accepted  his  uncle's  views  of  the  dignity  of  Human  Nature),  on  the  expression  of 
Mr.  Alcott  that  Jesus  did  not  descend  into  the  ordinary  relations  of  humanity.  "  I 
"protest  that  there  is  no  descent,"  said  Mr.  Channing.  With  the  doctrine  of  lapse 
naturally  belonged  the  assertion  of  pre-existence  and  his  views  of  Temperament 
and  Fate.  But  Alcott  does  not  narrow  his  doctrine  of  the  Lapse  to  a  historic  sin 
of  one  individual,  but  strives  to  present  it  as  a  necessary  basis  to  creation.  He  re- 
gards the  whole  series  of  the  lower  animals  as  produced  by  .nan  and  becoming 


148  THE  MONIST. 

representatives  of  his  good  or  evil  desires  and  passions.  His  vegetarianism  is  based 
on  his  philosophy,  more  than  on  hygiene. 

Mr.  Harris  says  that  at  times  Mr.  Alcott  seems  to  accept  the  theory  of  Evolu- 
tion, but  that  he  repudiates  it  as  the  first  stage  of  creation  and  accepts  it  only  as  a 
moral  struggle  of  conscious  beings  towards  purity  and  a  recovery  of  lost  holiness. 

In  thus  groping  after  a  solution  of  the  central  question  of  the  passage  of  the  one 
into  the  many,  he  necessarily  takes  up  many  forms  of  thought  and  seems  at  times 
inconsistent,  but  it  is  noteworthy  that  he  never  becomes  pessimistic  in  his  views  and 
never  loses  the  wholesomeness  and  sweetness  of  feeling,  which  make  life  serene  and 
beautiful. 

The  dark  shadow  of  Calvinism  is  not  able  to  shut  out  the  light  of  Hope  If 
man  is  fallen,  his  face  is  again  set  heavenward,  and  Eternity  of  Life  shuts  out  the 
possibility  of  Eternity  of  Hell. 

It  is  useless  to  attempt  to  condense  Mr.  Harris's  exposition  of  Mr.  Alcott's 
thought,  for  he  has  done  his  work  with  such  thoroughness  and  skill,  that  no  one  in- 
terested in  the  subject  will  be  content  without  studying  his  own  words.  Differing, 
as  he  does,  from  Mr.  Alcott's  views,  he  gives  them  their  full  value  and  shows  the 
part  which  his  theory  has  played  in  the  development  of  human  thought. 

"The  Orphic  Sayings,"  ridiculed  by  many  and  understood  by  few,  readily 
yield  up  their  meaning  to  Mr.  Harris's  analysis,  and  the  peculiar  use  of  language 
having  become  familiar  to  us,  we  read  them  with  a  perception  of  the  extent  of 
thought  comprised  in  these  few  lines,  and  of  their  relation  to  each  other. 

The  careful  arrangement  of  his  scales  of  mental  powers  is  shown  to  be  strictly 
logical  and  consistent  with  his  theory. 

While  Mr.  Alcott's  want  of  literary  skill  has  often  prevented  him  from  giving 
adequate  expression  to  his  theory,  we  recognise-  a  commanding  control  of  language 
in  short  passages,  which  are  pregnant  with  meaning,  like  the  text  of  unpreached 
sermons.  Mr.  Lowell's  witticism  is  false,  as  satire  usually  is,  when  he  says  :  * 

"A  lamb  among  men, 
"  He  goes  to  sure  death  when  he  goei  to  his  pen." 

This  whole  work  is  an  extremely  valuable  representation  of  that  important 
phase  of  the  spiritual  life  of  New  England  called  Transcendentalism.  Mr.  Alcott 
may  never  be  the  teacher  of  the  many  directly,  but  he  will  be  the  source  from 
which  a  few  will  draw  wisdom  which  will  pass  into  the  common  life.  However 
succeeding  times  may  regard  him,  he  has  had  a  powerful  influence  on  many  of  the 
best  minds  of  two  generations. 

Mr.  Alcott  himself  would  not  be  indifferent  to  the  fact  that  the  book  is  a  hand- 
some set  of  two  volumes,  well  printed,  with  good  reproductions  of  two  different 
portraits  of  the  philosopher,  and  a  view  of  the  Concord  School  of  Philosophy. 

* 

Since  writing  the  above,  the  last  of  Mr.  Alcott's  immediate  family  has  passed 
away.  Mrs.  Anna  B.  Pratt,  the  oldest  and  last  of  his  daughters,  had  just  returned 


BOOK   REVIEWS.  149 

to  Concord  to  make  her  home  there  for  the  rest  of  her  days.  She  was  soon  after 
laid  in  Sleepy  Hollow  beside  her  parents  and  sisters. 

She  was  the  Meg  of  the  famous  "  Little  Women  "  and  possessed  in  reality  all 
those  amiable  and  excellent  qualities  which  are  there  attributed  to  her.  Calm  in 
temper,  retiring  in  disposition,  affectionate  and  sweet  in  character,  she  resembled  her 
father  more  than  the  other  children.  Justice  has  hardly  been  done  to  her  intellec- 
tual abilities,  which  were  thrown  in  the  shade  by  the  brilliant  achievements  of  her 
sister.  But  she  possessed  the  same  vivid  dramatic  talent,  and  was  a  charming  story 
teUer,  and  sometimes  her  stories  were  mistaken  for  her  sister's.  She  had  not  the 
ambition  and  intense  energy  which  Louisa  possessed,  or  circumstances  did  not  bring 
them  out.  Marrying  early — she  was  protected  for  a  time  from  the  terrible  pressure 
of  need  which  weighed  upon  the  family,  and  when  left  a  widow  her  heart  and  mind 
were  engrossed  with  the  care  and  education  of  her  children. 

The  sad  infirmity  of  deafness  prevented  her  from  enjoying  fully  the  social  life 
for  which  she  was  otherwise  fitted.  But  she  has  left  behind  her  a  fragrant  memory 
of  loving  affection  and  kind  deeds  in  the  hearts  of  all  who  knew  her,  and  who  will 
always  remember  her  as  one  of  that  unique  family  who  have  done  so  much  to  bless 
our  New  Kngland  homes,  and  hold  them  to  "  Plain  living  and  high  thinking." 

Two  sons  survive  her,  who  are  both  connected  with  the  enterprising  firm  of 
Roberts  Brothers,  to  whom  the  public  are  indebted  for  recognising  the  worth  of 
Louisa  Alcott  s  work,  and  publishing  it  in  fitting  form.  E.  D.  C. 

LA  RECHERCHE  BE  L'UNITE.      By  E.  de  Roberty.     Paris  :  Felix  Alcan.      1893. 

M.  Roberty  s  "  Recherche  de  1'Unite  "  is  a  strange  and  baffling  book  which  few 
readers  will  have  the  patience  to  appreciate  at  its  true  value.  The  essay  is  essen- 
tially a  critique  of  the  abuse  of  scholastic  abstractions  in  contemporary  philosophis- 
ing. But  the  protest  against  abstractions  is  couched  in  so  severely  abstract  a  style 
that  it  is  difficult  to  seize  the  author's  thought  and  still  more  difficult  to  restate  it 
fairly  in  simpler  and  more  concrete  language. 

Rational  or  experimental  monism  is  the  label  which  M.  Roberty  affixes  to  his 
own  doctrine.  He  opposes  it,  first,  to  all  forms  of  confessed  dualism,  and,  second, 
to  the  latent  dualism  which  he  finds  lurking  in  neo-Kantianism,  in  Spencer's  trans- 
figured realism  and  in  other  contemporary  forms  of  transcendental  monism. 

In  his  plea  for  monism  he  is  traversing  familiar  ground  and  offers  the  reader 
little  that  is  positively  new.  The  monistic  thesis  can  never  be  proved  in  the  strict 
sense  of  the  word.  The  dualist  may  always  affirm,  if  he  will,  that  for  him  the  uni- 
verse of  experience  is  a  product  of  two  or  more  ultimate  and  irreducible  factors  that 
have  no  common  divisor.  And  this  view  has  been  maintained  by  many  great 
thinkers  as  the  only  doctrine  which  affords  satisfaction  to  certain  imperious  demands 
of  the  human  heart.  -  However  that  may  be,  there  are  certain  equally  imperious 
instincts  of  the  analytic  intelligence  which  it  leaves  unsatisfied.  "  La  raison  sans 
cesse  raisonne,"  and  refuses  to  pause  at  any  arbitrary  barrier.  The  philosophising 


150  THE   MONIST. 

intellect  chafes  at  limits  even  though  they  be  set'  far  beyond  the  bonds  of  any  prob- 
able advance  of  the  science  of  our  day.  Where  science  proves  unable  to  exhibit  the 
iinity,  that  is  the  causal  interrelations,  of  two  sets  of  phenomena,  the  philosopher 
postulates  this  unity  by  subsuming  them  both  under  a  common  logical  category. 
And  this  postulated  logical  unity  he  submits  to  the  investigator  as  a  problem  to  be 
worked  out  in  the  symbols  of  mathematical  physics.  Nothing  less  than  the  sub- 
sumption  of  all  experience  under  a  single  unifying  category  will  satisfy  him.  And 
this  instinct  dualism  baffles  and  disappoints.  So  that  to  this  type  of  mind  dualism 
presents  itself  not  as  one  erroneous  system  of  philosophy,  but  as  an  utter  negation 
of  all  philosophy. 

I  do  not  know  whether  M.  Roberty  would  formally  assent  to  this  statement  of 
the  monistic  position,  but  he  seems  to  say  very  much  the  same  thing  himself  in  his 
final  resume  :  ' '  The  rational  monism  of  science  and  philosophy  thus  presents  itself 
"  as  a  psychical  or  even  psycho-physical  necessity,  an  imperious  want  which  our 
' '  faculties  are  impelled  to  appease  precisely  because  they  feel  themselves  lost  in  the 
"  chaos  of  our  sensations  at  first  and  afterwards  of  our  knowledge.  We  are  unceas- 
"  ingly  preoccupied  by  the  desire  to  arrest  or  dominate  the  dispersion  of  our  intelli- 
"  gence  in  the  surrounding  medium.  This  end  is  subserved  by  the  ideal  integra- 
tion, "  etc.,  etc.,  p.  205. 

The  reader  will  find  more  that  is  new  in  the  author's  polemic  against  the  latent 
dualism  of  what  he  calls  transcendental  monism.  Under  this  name  M.  Roberty 
comprehends  all  systems  which  assume  an  antithesis  between  phenomena  as  a  whole 
and  a  dark  background  or  source  of  phenomena,  variously  denominated  as  the 
noumenon,  the  thing  in  itself,  or  the  Unknowable.  His  argument  is  in  substance  a 
restatement  of  the  familiar  dilemma,  as  old  as  Plato.  If  it  is  really  unknowable 
how  can  one  even  speak  of  it  without  self-contradiction  ?  But  in  his  ingenious  de- 
velopment of  this  argument,  M.  Roberty  brings  into  due  prominence  and  provides 
with  a  convenient  technical  name  a  valuable  logical  truth, — his  so-called  law  of  the 
"  identity  of  hyperabstract  contraries."  The  name  suggests  unfortunate  associa- 
tions. But  M.  Roberty 's  law  has  nothing  but  the  name  in  common  with  its  Hegel- 
ian namesake.  The  Hegelian  identity  of  contraries  is  in  the  main  a  barefaced  log- 
ical equivocation  arising  out  of  the  elementary  psychological  fact  of  the  tendency  of 
our  minds  to  associate  opposites.  But  the  law  here  considered  applies  only  to  the 
widest  and  hence  emptiest  abstractions,  the  sum  ma  genera  of  abstraction  and  gene- 
ralisation. As  we  proceed  upward  by  successive  inclusions  from  the  lowest  species 
to  the  highest  genus,  we  assume  at  each  stage  in  the  process  a  negative  idea  corre- 
sponding to  each  positive  class-notion.  The  ideas  "  not-man  "  and  "not-animal" 
have  as  real  if  not,  as  expressly  defined,  a  content  as  the  positive  ideas  man  and  ani- 
mal. This  is  as  old  as  Plato.  But  our  author  points  out  further  that  when  pro- 
ceeding upward  along  any  line  of  generalisation  the  mind  attains  to  the  highest  con- 
ceivable abstraction  (the  term  of  maximum  extension  and  minimum  intension)  then 
this  formal  antithesis  of  positive  and  negative  loses  all  its  real  content.  The  nega- 


BOOK  REVIEWS.  151 

tive  term  answering  to  such  a  stimnnim  gemis  is  a  merefa/us  vocis  devoid  of  all  real 
significance.  Plato  long  ago  showed  this  in  the  case  of  the  idea  of  (absolute)  "  not- 
being"  which  he  dismisses  in  the  Sophist  as  a  futile  and  self-contradictory  expres- 
sion. But  M.  Roberty  affirms  that  any  abstract  term  which  symbolises  the  totality 
of  experience  or  phenomena  is  identical  with  any  other  abstraction  that  has  the  same 
extension  even  though  the  one  may  be  in  form  the  contradictory  opposite  of  the 
other.  Thus  the  ideas  of  matter,  and  of  space  void  of  matter,  are  summa  genera,  in 
terms  of  either  of  which  the  relations  of  all  phenomena  may  be  stated.  The  differ- 
ence is  merely  in  the  point  of  view  as  appears  from  the  Cartesian  identification  of 
matter  with  extension.  We  fall  into  illusion  if  we  posit  both  concepts  as  coexisting 
realities  and  so  double  the  phenomena.  And  the  same  holds  true  of  the  correlated 
concepts  mind  and  matter,  and  subject  and  object.  Hence  arises  the  sm/una  delusio, 
as  our  author  calls  it,  of  the  three  representative  schools  of  contemporary  thought, 
the  Kantian  criticism,  the  agnostic  positivism  and  the  Spencerian  evolutionism. 
Differing  superficially,  they  are  one  in  this  fundamental  error,  that  they  set  up 
as  a  real  antithesis  the  purely  verbal  opposition  between  the  world  and  its  cause  or 
ground,  between  phenomena  and  that  which  manifests  itself  in  phenomena,  between 
the  knowable  and  the  unknowable.  These  terms  are  all  ultimate,  universal,  all- 
embracing  abstractions,  and  therefore  exactly  identical  in  respect  of  their  real  con- 
tent. The  world  and  its  cause  are  the  same  indefinite  totality  of  experiences  viewed 
from  different  angles  of  observation.  The  natura  natitrata,  to  borrow  Spinoza's 
phrase,  and  the  natitra  naturans  are  not  numerically  distinct.  The  noumenon  is 
merely  the  phenomenon  thought  of  in  a  different  way.  The  sum  total  of  now  un- 
knowable things  is  identical  with  the  sum  of  things  potentially  knowable.  "•Snni/nn 
(a men  omnia  constant.'1''  We  add  nothing  to  reality  by  erecting  altars  to  our  own 
personified  ignorance. 

Such  in  substance  is  M.  Roberty's  argument,  and  I  have  nothing  to  object  to 
it  here.  I  can  only  wonder  at  the  significance  he  attributes  to  the  entire  question. 
His  doctrine,  though  he  may  repudiate  the  label,  is  essentially  pure  phenomenalism 
or  positivism.  His  monism  is  less  a  positive  conception  than  a  negation  of  the  dual- 
ism that  would  seem  to  oppose  arbitrary  barriers  to  human  inquiry.  His  position 
is  really  that  of  the  sceptic  who  through  metaphysic  has  become  dead  to  meta- 
physic.  By  the  whole  tenor  of  his  psychology  he  is  bound  to  regard  abstractions 
as  merely  so  many  counters  for  the  more  convenient  reckoning  of  the  concrete  values 
of  life.  Why  should  he  attach  so  much  importance  to  right  or  wrong  manipulation 
of  those  counters  on  the  metaphysical  chess-board  in  matters  which  at  present  do 
not  touch  those  realities  very  nearly  ?  Like  George  Henry  Lewes,  he  began  with  the 
credo  of  positivism.  And,  as  happened  with  Lewes,  his  maturer  thought  is  impa- 
tient of  the  seeming  implication  in  all  the  divers  forms  of  positivist  agnosticism  of 
an  unknowable  absolute  beyond  the  knowable  relative.  The  hint  of  a  mystery,  the 
dogmatic  affirmation  of  a  limit  to  human  knowledge  irritates  and  is  distasteful  to 
him.  And  I  grant  him  that  the  doctrine,  whether  in  its  Spencerian  or  Kantian  form 


152  THE  MONIST. 

is  as  self-contradictory  as  the  old  neo-Platonist  Damascius  found  it  1400  years  ago. 
But  what  difference  does  it  make  to  a  philosopher  who  has  transcended  it  ?  Is  the 
religion  of  the  Unknowable  a  serious  danger  to  the  moral  life  of  modern  man  ?  Is 
the  slight  survival  of  this  mysticism  in  the  philosophies  of  a  Wundt,  a  Spencer,  or 
a  Riehl  a  hindrance  to  concrete  scientific  progress  ?  Many  of  the  most  vigorous 
leaders  of  modern  thought  answer  these  questions  in  the  affirmative,  and  they  may 
be  right,  que  scais-jel 

In  thus  endeavoring  to  expound  the  author's  central  thought,  I  have  been  forced 
to  pass  by  the  many  interesting  psychological  aper^its  which  his  book  contains. 

Especially  noteworthy  is  the  suggestion  that  the  images  or  mental  representa- 
tions which  the  traditional  psychology  places  between  sensations  and  concepts  arise 
fre  }uently,  if  not  normally,  from  a  fusion  of  several  elementary  concepts  and  are 
not  to  be  thought  of  always  as  direct  copies  of  sensation.  It  was  doubtless  a  feeling 
of  this  that  led  Plato  in  the  Philebus  to  describe  the  imagination  under  the  figure  of 
an  artist  who  paints  the  ideas  which  first  arise  in  our  minds  as  discourses  of  reason 
(/,6-yoi).  PAUL  SHOREY. 

THE  SCIENCE  OF  MECHANICS.  By  Dr.  Ernst  Mach,  Professor  of  Physics  in  the 
University  of  Prague.  Translated  from  the  Second  German  Edition  by 
Thomas  J.  McCormack.  Chicago  :  The  Open  Court  Publishing  Company. 
1893.  Pages,  534.  Price,  $2.50. 

"The  present  volume  is  not  a  treatise  upon  the  application  of  the  principles  of 
"  mechanics.  Its  aim  is  to  clear  up  ideas,  expose  the  real  significance  of  the  mat- 
' '  ter,  and  get  rid  of  metaphysical  obscurities.  The  little  mathematics  it  contains 
"  is  merely  secondary  to  this  purpose." 

These  are  the  opening  words  of  the  Preface  of  this  work,  which  is  essentially  a 
treatise  on  the  evolution  of  mechanics,  and  not  a  text-book  of  its  principles,  all  the 
problems  that  have  arisen  in  the  science's  development  being  dealt  with  historically 
and  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  theory  of  knowledge.  In  this  sense  it  is  as  much  a 
contribution  to  philosophy  as  to  science,  and  will  thus  be  of  much  more  value  to 
the  student  and  inquirer  than  a  simple  statement  of  technical  principles  could  be. 
In  Professor  Mach's  analysis  the  reader  sees  how  the  principles  of  mechanics  have 
in  fact  been  ascertained,  from  what  sources  they  take  their  origin,  and  what  their 
positive  and  physical  essence  is,  as  distinguished  from  the  technical  guise  they  have 
historically  assumed  and  which  students  now  so  often  regard  as  their  real  substance. 

The  gist  and  kernel  of  mechanical  ideas  has,  in  almost  every  case,  grown  up  in 
the  investigation  of  very  simple  and  special  cases  of  mechanical  processes.  It  is 
these  cases  with  which  Professor  Mach  deals.  Here  we  see  the  science  in  its  gen- 
esis, and  feel  the  steps  by  which  it  has  been  created.  We  accompany  the  great 
investigators  in  their  deepest  quests,  meet  the  same  obstacles,  and  experience  the 
same  doubts  as  they  ;  learning  that  they,  too,  were  mortal  men,  who  had  to  hew  their 


BOOK   REVIEWS.  153 

way  through  the  same  difficulties  as  we,  in  the  solution  of  our  problems  In  this 
way,  we  follow  the  trains  of  thought  of  Archimedes,  Stevinus,  Galileo,  Huygens, 
Newton,  and  Lagrange,  and  participate  in  the  making  of  their  great  discoveries. 
Thus,  we  live  over  in  our  souls  their  intellectual  lives. 

The  confidence  and  strength  which  we  gain  for  our  own  labors  in  such  work 
cannot  be  overestimated.  No  one  can  come  away  from  the  perusal  of  this  book 
without  being  intellectually  and  spiritually  bettered,  or  without  having  won  a  taste 
for  employment  with  high  thought  and  classical  knowledge  which  will  always  profit 
him. 

The  parts  of  the  work  of  greatest  import  to  those  interested  in  physics  are,  the 
sections  on  the  development  of  statics  and  dynamics,  the  discussions  of  the  founda- 
tions of  dynamics,  the  criticism  of  Newton's  views,  the  substitution  of  newly  formu- 
lated and  more  logical  principles  for  the  Newtonian  axioms  and  definitions,  and 
the  chapter  on  the  "Formal  Development  of  Mechanics."  To  the  philosopher  all 
is  of  equal  interest,  as  he  may  here  see  the  way  in  which  a  complete  and  perfected 
science  has  actually  been  developed,  and  thus  have  the  opportunity,  in  constructing 
his  theory  of  knowledge  of  adhering  to  facts. 

The  general  reader's  interest  will  probably  be  fastened  with  the  two  sections  in 
Chapter  V:  "  Theological,  Animistic,  and  Mystical  Points  of  View  in  Mechanics," 
and  "  The  Economy  of  Science."  In  the  first  we  read  of  the  religious  opinions  of 
the  great  inquirers,  of  their  struggles  with  their  inborn  theological  ideas,  (or  rather 
of  the  struggles  of  these  ideas  with  new  and  irreconcilable  opponent-ideas,)  and  of 
the  way  in  which  science  has  always  been  tinged  with  religious,  spiritualistic,  and 
mythological  conceptions. 

In  the  section  on  "  The  Economy  of  Science  "  is  contained,  in  succinctest  form, 
the  groundwork  of  Professor  Mach's  philosophy.  In  his  view,  all  science  is  economy 
of  thought.  Economy  of  thought — the  saving  of  mental  time  and  labor — is  the  ob- 
ject of  language,  arithmetic,  algebra,  of  all  concepts,  and  of  science  generally.  All 
this  is  illustrated  by  a  brief  discussion  of  arithmetical  and  algebraical  rules,  the 
theory  of  determinants,  calculating  machines,  the  laws  of  physics,  and  space  of 
many  dimensions.  By  the  light  of  this  theory  the  reader  will  understand  many 
problems  of  abstract  physics  which  were  before  obscure  to  him. 

No  pains  have  been  spared  in  the  mechanical  execution  of  the  work,  or  in  in- 
suring correctness  of  translation.  The  proofs  of  the  translation  were  read  by  Pro- 
fessor Mach  himself,  and  also  by  Mr.  C.  S.  Peirce,  who  edited  the  division  "Me- 
chanics "  in  the  Century  Dictionary.  Mr.  Peirce  has  also  independently  supplied  a 
few  paragraphs  on  the  measures  and  weights  of  this  country  and  Great  Britain. 
The  book  is  exhaustively  indexed,  and  at  the  sides  of  the  pages  marginal  analyses 
of  the  paragraphs  are  printed.  Of  the  two  hundred  and  fifty  cuts  and  illustrations 
which  the  work  contains,  all  have  been  redrawn  with  the  exception  of  the  fac-similes 
of  old  originals,  of  which  there  are  a  number.  KK. 


154  THE  MONIST. 

LEITFADEN  DER  PHYSIOLOGISCHEN  PSYCHOLOGIE  IN  FUNFZEHN  VORLESUNGEN.     By 

Prof.  Dr.  Th.  Ziehen.     Jena  :  Gustav  Fischer.      1893. 

The  second  edition  of  Professor  Ziehen's  Leitfaden  contains  some  additions 
and  emendations,  and,  we  are  glad  to  say,  an  index  ;  but,  upon  the  whole,  the  text 
has  remained  unaltered.  We  have  reviewed  this  book  in  a  former  issue  of  77;<? 
Monist,  Vol.  II,  No.  3,  page  461.  Ziehen  is  an  antagonist  of  Wundt's,  but  it  is  to  be 
regretted  that  his  criticisms  are  based  upon  a  misconception  of  Wundt's  theory  of 
apperception.  /cpf. 

LOGIK.  Eine  Untersuchung  der  Principien  der  Erkenntniss  und  der  Methoden 
wissenschaftlicher  Forschung.  By  Wilhelin  Wimdt.  Erster  Band.  Er- 
kentnisslehre.  Zweite  umgearbeitete  Auflage.  Stuttgart  :  Ferdinand  Enke. 
1893. 

The  first  edition  of  this  work  of  the  well-known  Leipsic  professor  appeared  in 
1883  in  two  volumes,  entitled,  respectively,  JZrkenntnisslehre  and  Methodenlehre. 
Of  the  present  edition  only  this,  the  first  volume,  has  as  yet  appeared.  The  volume 
is  a  large  one,  containing  six  hundred  and  fifty-one  pages  ;  its  great  size  being  due 
to  the  fact  that  Professor  Wundt  has  a  very  comprehensive  conception  of  logic  — 
one  coextensive,  almost,  with  the  entire  field  of  general  philosophy.  We  shall  re- 
view this  work  exhaustively  in  a  later  number  and  will  only  mention  here  that  Pro- 
fessor Wundt's  point  of  view  is  not  that  of  the  traditional  school,  but,  in  contradis- 
tinction to  the  Aristotelian  methods,  professes  to  supply  rules  for  the  conduct  of 
real  research  and  means  for  the  acquisition  .of  new  truth. 


LA  VUE  PLASTIQUE  FONCTiON  DE  L'ECORCE  CEREBRALS.  Par  Georges  Hirth.  Traduit 
de  1'allemand  par  Lucien  Arreat.  Paris  :  Felix  Alcan.  1893. 

A  review  of  the  predecessor  of  this  work,  La  physiologic  de  Part,  appeared  in 
Volume  III,  No.  i,  page  143,  of  The  Monist,  to  which  we  must  refer  the  reader  for 
the  foundations  of  the  theory  of  the  present  work.  Its  translator  is  M.  Lucien 
Arreat,  the  accomplished  correspondent  of  The  Monist,  who  has  performed  his  task 
with  correctness  and  felicity. 

It  is  a  well-known  fact  that  our  judgment  of  the  extension,  and  especially  of 
the  depth,  of  bodies  is  an  interpretation  of  planar  figures.  We  do  not  see  things 
stereometrically  ;  that  is,  we  do  not  see  solid  objects  as  solid  ;  but  we  see  '  '  plas- 
tically ";  that  is,  we  see  things  by  means  of  fictitious  or  shapen  images  of  them. 

This  problem  of  plastic  vision  has  occupied  investigators  from  the  very  begin- 
ning of  science,  and  countless  theories  have  been  set  up  to  explain  it.  The  most 
recent  ones  are,  that  which  regards  the  connexion  of  impressions  with  exterior  ob- 
jects as  the  effect  of  our  innate  concept  of  causality  (Schopenhauer)  ;  that  of  pro- 
jection (the  mathematico-optical  theory)  ;  that  by  which  plastic  vision  is  explained 
as  due  to  the  collateral  confirmation  of  the  other  senses  ;  that  which,  like  the  for- 
mer, claims  that  the  corporeality  of  things  is  the  product  of  constructive  imagina- 


BOOK    REVIEWS.  155 

tion  ;  and,  finally,  that  which  defines  sensory  experience  in  this  respect  as  a  motor 
memory,  making  our  faculty  of  measuring  with  the  eyes  the  result  of  innumerable 
movements  of  the  eye,  which  movements  have  gradually  endowed  the  organism 
with  such  a  delicate  sense  of  muscular  innervation,  that  even  without  executing 
these  movements  we  obtain,  by  simple  presentiment,  images  more  or  less  distinct 
of  depth,  and  so  forth. 

As  opposed  to  all  these  various  hypotheses,  the  theory  of  the  author  is,  that 
plastic  vision  is  a  function  of  the  cerebral  cortex.  And,  in  contrast  also  to  the  for- 
mer methods,  which  were  chiefly  mathematical  and  metaphysical,  his  is  physio- 
logical. 

In  a  sense,  his  results  are  a  modification  of  the  nativistic  theory.  In  the 
original  formation  of  the  faculty  of  plastic  vision,  indeed,  the  effect  of  experience 
is  not  denied,  but  this  influence,  it  is  contended,  is  one  which  must  be  sought  rather 
in  the  primitive  experience  of  the  race  than  in  the  individual. 

Plastic  luminous  sensations,  he  claims,  cannot  by  any  possibility  be  effected 
without  an  innate  nervous  organisation  adapted  to  such  production.  Plastic  vision, 
in  one  of  its  aspects,  is  a  cerebral  necessity  ;  it  is  not  effected  directly  by  the  real 
figures  of  objects,  or  by  their  actual  position  in  space,  or  by  their  binocular  pro- 
jection and  perspective  on  the  retina,  but  by  the  independent  action  of  central 
luminous  excitations,  which  owe  their  origin  to  certain  properties  of  the  surfaces  of 
bodies,  and  which  constitute,  thus,  a  central  constraint.  The  result  of  this  is,  (as 
is  also  the  fact,)  that  we  are  subject  to  necessary  plastic  representations,  even  when 
experience  tells  us  that  we  have  not  before  us  bodies  possessed  of  actual  properties 
of  relief,  as  in  the  stereoscope,  and  so  forth.  Our  organ  is  thus  constrained  to 
acquiesce  in  many  illusions  concerning  the  corporeality  of  nature. 

Plastic  vision,  in  fine,  is  not  a  linear-perspective  vision  endowed  with  stereo- 
metric projections  ;  it  does  not  measure  angles  or  parallaxes  ;  but  simply  has  sensa- 
tions more  or  less  strong  for  the  qualities  of  remoteness  and  for  the  relative  extent 
of  lights  projected  from  the  two  retinas  into  the  visual  spheres  and  there  fused. 

Lights,  which  are  both  correspondent  by  their  position  on  the  two  retinas  and 
homologous  with  respect  to  energy  of  specific  color,  fuse  in  the  elements  of  percep- 
tion of  the  visual  spheres,  not  by  reason  of  a  common  fixation  or  the  intuitive  activ- 
ities of  the  understanding,  but  in  virtue  of  a  dynamical  constraint.  Binocular  fixa- 
tion, clear  vision,  the  convergence  of  the  eyes,  and  so  forth,  are  simply  concomitant 
phenomena  and  more  or  less  indispensable  means  of  this  "confluence";  they  are 
not  its  original  cause. 

The  central  constraint  which  is  due  to  this  "confluence"  of  homologous  lights 
explains  many  of  the  mooted  points  of  vision.  All  phenomena  accompanied  by 
adaptation  of  the  visual  organ,  claims  the  author,  are  explainable  from  our  simple 
feelings  of  the  qualities  of  remoteness  of  light,  which  alone  is  sufficient  to  set  in 
motion  the  mechanism  of  adaptation. 

Plastic  vision,  in  its  origin,  before  the  influence  of  collateral  memory-images 


156  THE   MONIST. 

and  their  associations,  is  the  simple  evolutionary  product  of  haminous  excitations, 
which  contain  imp li cite  the  elements  for  the  judgment  of  distance  ;  as  a  developed 
faculty,  it  is  a  central  innervation,  the  active  expression  of  our  feeling  for  the  quali- 
ties of  remoteness  of  light.  This  is  the  core  of  the  theory.  finpx.. 

UEBER  HYPNOTISCHE  EXPERIMENTS.     By  Professor  J\.   von  Krafft-Ebing.     Stutt- 
gart :  Ferdinand  Enke.      1893. 
NATURGESCHICHTE  DES  VERBRECHERS.      By  H.    Kurella.      Stuttgart :    Ferdinand 

Enke.      1893. 

DAS  GEFUHL.     EINE   PSYCHOLOGISCHE   UNTERSUCHUNG.     By  Prof.  Theobald  Zieg- 
ter.      Stuttgart  :  Goschen.      1893. 

The  putative  discovery  of  Krafft-Ebing  that  persons  exist  who  by  hypnotism 
can  be  put  back  into  early  periods  of  their  life,  so  that,  for  example,  a  person  thirty 
years  old  may  be  suddenly  made  to  feel  and  to  conduct  himself  as  he  did  in  his  sev- 
enth year,  is  one  fraught  with  great  consequences,  and  has  been  much  discussed  of 
late  in  the  press  of  Germany.  As  was  to  be  expected,  it  met  with  much  critical  oppo- 
sition, and  among  its  foremost  assailants,  of  scientific  reputation,  were  Professors 
Ganster  and  Benedikt,  the  Vienna  colleagues  of  Professor  Krafft-Ebing.  Benedikt 
went  so  far  as  to  pronounce  the  whole  matter  a  stupid  humbug,  and  declared  that 
Krafft-Ebing  had  been  made  the  victim  of  his  own  credulity  and  been  basely  imposed 
upon  by  a  designing  hysterical  person.  It  was  to  be  expected  that  the  celebrated 
Vienna  psychiatrist,  who  thus  saw  his  reputation  endangered,  would  soon  put  forth 
an  answer  to  these  attacks,  and  the  present  tract  is  the  result.  It  bears  the  motto, 
"  Unlimited  doubt  as  much  the  offspring  of  mental  impotence  as  unlimited  credu- 
lity," and  contains  in  addition  to  its  accurate  presentation  of  the  subject  under  dis- 
cussion a  sharp  criticism  of  the  strictures  of  his  opponents,  and  especially  of  the 
animadversions  of  Benedikt.  In  keen  psychological  analysis  it  surpasses  other 
books  of  its  class,  and  may  be  cordially  recommended  to  the  readers  of  The  Monist 
— a  recommendation  which  the  high  reputation  of  its  author  almost  makes  super- 
fluous. 

* 

The  second  of  the  books  listed  at  the  head  of  this  review  is  by  H.  Kurella,  the 
author  of  the  pamphlet  on  Lombroso,  mentioned  at  page  640  of  the  last  Monist. 
The  present  work  of  Kurella  is  quite  extensive  and  supplies  all  the  data  necessary 
for  a  general  study  of  the  modern  doctrines  of  criminology.  It  is  an  elaboration  of 
all  the  previous  literature  of  this  subject,  together  with  the  author's  original  re- 
searches. After  an  introduction,  Kurella  treats  of  the  abnormal  anatomical  fea- 
tures of  the  criminal,  the  biology  and  biological  factors  of  the  criminal,  the  psychol- 
ogy of  the  criminal,  and  finally  of  theories  and  applications. 

In  the  chapter  on  the  psychology  of  the  criminal  Kurella  first  portrays  for  us 
symptomatically  the  features  of  the  criminal  mind  as  this  latter  has  been  observed 


BOOK   REVIEWS.  157 

by  Lombroso  and  his  school,  and  then  proceeds  to  his  elucidation,  the  chief  result 
of  which  is  the  opinion  that  the  main  defect  of  the  habitual  criminal  is  his  lack  of 
moral  sense.  Of  course,  this  is  not  a  very  remarkable  conclusion,  for  what  is  in 
real  need  of  explanation  is  the  foundation  and  origin  of  this  lack  of  ethical  sense. 
Lombroso,  following  the  precedent  of  Prichard,  assumes  in  the  normal  man  a  moral 
faculty,  an  organ,  as  it  were,  of  morality,  which  in  the  criminal  is  supposed  to  be 
wanting.  This  theory  is,  of  course,  untenable,  for  many  reasons  ;  and  is  also  re- 
jected by  Kurella,  without  his  substituting,  however,  any  competent  explanation  in 
*ts  place.  Kurella  seeks  the  key  to  the  mysteries  of  criminal  psychology  in  the 
study  of  the  emotions,  which  in  its  present  imperfect  form  is,  nevertheless,  not 
quite  capable  of  supplying  an  explanation  of  criminal  traits.  In  Kurella's  opinion, 
the  doctrine  of  emotions  in  recent  years  has  been  unduly  forced  into  the  back- 
ground. He  remarks  in  this  connexion  :  ' '  Unfortunately,  it  cannot  be  said  that 
"  the  theory  of  the  emotions  and  of  the  pathological  phenomena  of  the  emotional 
"sphere  stands  in  the  foreground  of  modern  research.  The  analysis  of  the  sensa- 
"  tions  and  of  perceptive  images  and  movements  dominates  so  completely  the  ener- 
' '  gies  of  modern  psychology,  and  the  localisation  studies  of  cerebral  pathology  so 
"completely  absorb  the  interests  of  psychiatry,  that  the  emotions  are  hardly  treated 
"  at  all,  and  investigators  are  even  inclined  to  smother  the  voices  of  these  trouble- 
"  some  disturbers  of  the  nicely  ordered  relations  of  localised  ideas." 

So  far  as  we  can  see,  the  complaint  of  Kurella  is  justified,  although  very  re- 
cently a  work  has  appeared  in  France  which,  despite  its  many  failings  in  psycho- 
logical respects,  will  contribute  much  to  the  advancement  of  the  theory  of  emotions, 
— namely  Fere's  Patnology  of  the  Emotions.  The  reason  the  investigation  of  the 
nature  of  the  emotions  especially,  and,  we  may  add,  of  affective  life  generally,  has 
been  so  neglected  in  our  day  is  to  be  sought  in  the  preponderantly  experimental 
character  which  psychology  has  recently  taken  on,  and  which  is  not  adapted  to  the 
conquest  of  this  domain.  But  it  is  also  to  be  sought,  as  Professor  Theobald  Ziegler 
remarks,  (in  the  third  book  mentioned  at  the  head  of  this  review,)  in  the philos oph- 
ical  tendency  of  the  present  day. 

With  Kant,  the  interest  of  reason  is  predominant ;  in  the  veins  of  the  cognising 
subject,  as  he  constructed  it,  says  Dilthey,  not  real  blood,  but  the  impoverished 
fluid  of  reason,  as  pure  intellectual  activity,  courses.  The  panlogism  of  Hegel,  de- 
spite its  fine  sense  for  religious  and  aesthetic  questions,  was  never  quite  able  to  do 
full  justice  to  the  emotional  side  of  psychic  life.  The  philosophy  of  Herbart,  on 
the  other  hand,  whose  chief  forte  was  psychology,  also  was  unable,  with  its  mechan-, 
ism  of  representation  in  which  it  dissolved  all  mental  life,  to  supply  a  competent 
explanation  of  the  emotions;  despite  the  valuable  treatises  of •  Robert  Zimmmer- 
mann  and  Joseph  von  Nahlowsky.  In  Schopenhauer's  metaphysics  of  the  will, 
emotional  life  met  with  scarcely  any  treatment,  despite  the  strongly  emotional  back- 
ground of  this  philosopher's  pessimism.  And  in  the  case  of  Wundt  it  is  to  be  seen 
how,  owing  to  the  influence  of  a  metaphysical  doctrine  of  the  will,  precisely  the 


158  THE  MONIST. 

emotions  were  curtailed  in  treatment,  although  here  there  was  present  the  counter- 
poise of  keen  and  careful  psychological  presentation. 

We  cannot,  however,  ascribe  to  Ziegler's  book  a  place  among  the  more  im- 
portant works  on  this  subject.  In  point  of  fact,  it  is  not  the  author's  intention  to 
offer  anything  new,  but  rather  to  give  a  summary  of  the  old,  and  contrast  it  with 
modern  tendencies  of  research.  It  cannot  be  said  that  this  has  been  well  done,  though 
the  book  possesses  withal  a  high  value  in  the  general  survey  which  it  gives  of  the 
subject.  It  might  have  been  made  more  useful  by  greater  uniformity  of  treatment ; 
the  author  alternately  talking  in  a  popular  and  rigorously  scientific  tone,  and  indulg- 
ing in  many  digressions. 

Very  exact  knowledge  of  the  nature  of  the  emotions  will  exert  a  great  influence 
on  pedagogy,  especially  on  that  branch  of  it  which  takes  up  with  the  results  of  psy- 
chology ;  and  wherever  pathological  phenomena  in  this  field  are  treated,  pedagogic 
pathology  may  hope  to  derive  advantage  from  it.  In  this  connexion  it  will  not  be 
out  of  place  to  refer  to  two  tracts  recently  published  by  W.  Bertelsmann  of  Guters- 
loh — one  by  W.  Triiper,  of  Jena,  on  the  pedagogical  application  of  Koch's  doctrine 
of  the  psychopathical  minor  factors,  entitled  Ueber  die  Erziehting  psychopathischer 
Minderwerthigkeiten  ;  and  the  other  by  G.  Kozle,  entitled  Die  pddagogische  Patho- 
logic im  neunzehnten  Jahrhundert,  which  is  a  synopsis  of  all  that  has  appeared  in 
Germany  on  pedagogical  pathology  since  the  beginning  of  the  century,  though  not 
including  the  medical  side  of  the  science.  c.  u. 


We  have  received  from  M.  George  Mouret  a  reply  to  the  criticisms  of  Mr.  F. 
C.  Russell,  published  in  Vol.  Ill,  No.  2,  of  The  Monist  in  the  article  "Logic  as  Re- 
lation Lore."  To  our  regret,  M.  Mouret's  article  has  been  crowded  out  of  the  pres- 
ent number  of  The  Monist,  but  will  be  published  in  a  subsequent  one.  We  also 
wish  to  state  that  the  author  of  the  article  "  Meaning  and  Metaphor"  in  the  last 
number  of  The  Monist  is  "The  Hon.  Lady  Welby,"  not  "Lady  Victoria  Welby." 


PERIODICALS. 


ZEITSCHRIFT  FUR  PSYCHOLOGIE  UND  PHYSIOLOGIE  DER  SINNES- 

ORGANE.     Vol.  V.     Nos.  5. 
ZUR  THEORIE  DER  CEREBRALEN  SCHREIB-  UND  LESESTORUNGEN.  By  R.  Sommer. 

DlE  GiJLTIGKEIT  DES  NEWTONSCHEN    FARBENMISCHUNGSGESETZES    BEI  DEM 

SOG.     GRUNBLINDEN     FARBENSYSTEM.         By     Ellgeil     Brodhun. LlTTERATUR- 

BERICHT.     (Hamburg  and  Leipsic  :    Leopold  Voss..) 

VIERTELJAHRSSCHRIFT  FUR  WISSENSCHAFTLICHE  PHILOSOPHIE. 

Vol.  XVII.     No.  3. 

DIE  PHILOSOPHISCHE  BfiDEUTUNG  DER  ETHNOLOGiE.  By  Th,  Achelis. — DER 
BLINDE  UND  DIE  KUNST.  By  Fr.  Hitsclnnann. — WERTHTHEORIE  UND  ETHIK. 
By  Chr.  Ehrenfels. — DIE  BESTATIGUNG  DES  NAIVEN  REALISMUS.  Offener 
Brief  an  Herrn  Prof.  Dr.  Richard  Avenarius.  By  W.  Scfmppe.  (Leipsic  : 
O.  R.  Reisland.) 

THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  PSYCHOLOGY.     Vol.  VI.     No.  i. 

SYLLABUS  OF  LECTURES  ON  THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  PAIN  AND  PLEASURE.  By 
Benjamin  Ives  Oilman, — THE  NEW  LIFE:  A  STUDY  OF  REGENERATION.  By 
Arthur H.  Daniels,  B  D. — PSYCHOLOGICAL  LITERATURE.  (Worcester,  Mass.: 
J.  H.  Orpha.) 

THE  PHILOSOPHICAL  REVIEW.     Vol.  II.     Nos.  4  and  5 

INTERNAL  SPEECH  AND  SONG.  By  Prof,  f.  Mark  Baldwin. — THE  MEANING  OF 
TRUTH  AND  ERROR.  By  Dickinson  S.  Miller. — GERMAN  KANTIAN  BIBLI- 
OGRAPHY. By  Dr.  Erich  Adickes. — DISCUSSIONS  :  MODERN  PSYCHOLOGY.  By 
Prof.  E.  B.  Titchener. 

METAPHYSIC  AND  PSYCHOLOGY.  By  Prof.  John  Watson. — THE  ETHICAL  IM- 
PLICATIONS OF  DETERMINISM.  By  Dr.  Eliza  Ritchie. — THE  TRUTH  OF  EM- 
PIRICISM. By  Prof.  James  Seth. — GERMAN  KANTIAN  BIBLIOGRAPHY.  By 
Dr.  Erich  Adickes. — BOOK  REVIEWS.  (Boston,  New  York,  Chicago  :  Ginn 

a  Co.) 

PHILOSOPHISCHE  MONATSHEFTE.     Vol.  XXIX.     Nos.  5  and  6. 

DIE  RELIGION  DER  WISSENSCHAFT.  Eine  Skizze  aus  dem  philosophischen  Le- 
ben  Nordamerikas.  By  Paul  Cams. — EIN  UNAUFGEKLARTES  MOMENT  IN  DER 
KANTISCHEN  PHILOSOPHIE.  By  Robert  Hoar. — WERKE  ZUR  PHILOSOPHIE  DER 
GESCHICHTE  UND  DES  SOCIALEN  LEBENS.  (Vierter  Artikel  :  Gabriel  Tar  tie, 
Leslois  de  1'imitation.)  By  F.  Tonnies. — LITTERATURBERICHT.  (Berlin:  Dr. 
R.  Salinger.) 


l6o  THE  MONIST. 

ZEITSCHRIFT  FUR   PHILOSOPHIE  UND  PHILOSOPHISCHE  KRITIK. 
Vol.  CII.      Nos.  i  and  2. 

ERNST  PLATNER'S  UND  KANT'S  ERKENNTNISSTHEORIE  MIT  BESONDERER  BERUCK- 
SICHTIGUNG  VON  TETENS  UND  AENESiDEMUs.  (Concluded.)  By  Dr.  Arthur 
Wreschner. — PSYCHOLOGISCHE  STREITFRAGEN.  III.  Paul  Natorp's  Einleitung 
in  die  Psychologic.  By  Johannes  Volkelt. — Zu  KANT'S  LEHRE  VOM  DING  AN 
SIGH.  I.  By  Ludwig  Busse. — RUDOLF  SEYDEL. 

Zu  KANT'S  LEHRE  VOM  DING  AN  SICH.  II.  By  Ludwig  Busse. — SALOMON  MAI- 
MONS  VERSUCH  UBER  DIE  TRANSCENDENTALPHILOSOPHIE  IN  SEINEM  VERHALT- 
NIS  zu  KANT'S  TRANSCENDENTALER  AESTHETIK  UND  ANALYTIK.  By  Liidwig 
Rosenthal. — GEISTIGE  UND  MATERIELLE  KRAFT.  By  Dr.  Eiigen  Dreher. — 
RECENSIONEN.  (Leipsic  :  C.  E.  M.  Pfeffer.) 

MIND.     NEW  SERIES,  No.  7. 

IDEALISM  AND  EPISTEMOLOGY.  By  Prof.  Jones, — ARISTOTLE'S  THEORY  OF 
REASON.  By-  F.  Granger. — METHODS  OF  INDUCTIVE  INQUIRY.  By  Henry 
Laurie. — ON  THE  DISTINCTION  BETWEEN  REAL  AND  VERBAL  PROPOSITIONS. 
By  E.  T.  Dixon. — ASSIMILATION  AND  ASSOCIATION.  (I  )  By  Dr.  James  Ward. 
— DISCUSSIONS,  ETC.  (London  and  Edinburgh  :  Williams  &  Norgate.) 

INTERNATIONAL  JOURNAL  OF  ETHICS.     Vol.  III.     No.   4. 

ON  CERTAIN  PSYCHOLOGICAL  ASPECTS  OF  MORAL  TRAINING.  By  Josiah  Royce. 
— THE  PLACE  OF  INDUSTRY  IN  THE  SOCIAL  ORGANISM.  By  William  Smart. — 
ON  HUMAN  MARRIAGE.  By  C.  N.  Star  eke. — CHARACTER  AND  CONDUCT.  By 
S.  Alexander. — MORAL  DEFICIENCIES  AS  DETERMINING  INTELLECTUAL  FUNC- 
TIONS. By  Georg  Simmel. — DISCUSSIONS. — BOOK  REVIEWS.  (Philadelphia  : 
International  Journal  of  Ethics,  118  S.  Twelfth  Street.) 

THE  NEW  WORLD.     Vol.  II,  No.  7. 

ERNEST  RENAN.  By  James  Darmesteter. — A  WAY  OUT  OF  THE  TRINITARIAN 
CONTROVERSY.  By  James  M.  Whiton. — THE  RELATIONS  OF  RELIGION  AND 
MORALITY.  By  Wilhelm  Bender. — THE  BOSTON  PULPIT  :  CHANNING,  TAY- 
LOR, EMERSON,  BROOKS.  By  C.  A.  Barlol. — JESUS'S  SELF-DESIGNATION  IN 
THE  SYNOPTIC  GOSPELS.  By  Orello  Cone. — THE  ROLE  OF  THE  DEMON  IN  THE 
ANCIENT  COPTIC  RELIGION.  By  E.  Amelineau. — THE  NEW  UNITARIANISM. 
By  Edward  H.  Hall. — BOOK  REVIEWS.  (Boston  :  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co.) 

REVUE  PHILOSOPHIQUE.     Vol.  XVIII.     Nos.  8  and  9. 

LE  RIRE  ET  LA  LiBERTE.  By  A.  Penjon. — LE  PROBLEMS  DE  L'INFINI.  I.  LA 
RELATIVITE.  (Concluded.)  By  G.  Mouret. — JUGEMENT  ET  RESSEMBLANCE. 
(Concluded.)  By  V.  Egger. — ANALYSES  ET  COMPTES  RENDUS. 

LA  SENSATION  DE  PLAisiR.     By  Bourdon. — THEORIE  VIBRATOIRE  ET  LOIS  ORGA- 

NIQUES    DE    LA    SENSIBILITE.       By  Dr.   Pioger. LA  REPETITION  ET    LE  TEMPS. 

By  L.   Weber.       (Paris  :  Felix  Alcan.) 


VOL.   IV. 


JANUARY,    1894. 


No.  2. 


THE  MONIST. 


THE  UNIVERSALITY  OF  TRUTH. 


WE  present  to  our  readers  the  following  poetical  contribution 
from    the    Right    Reverend    Shaku   Soyen,    who   holds   the 
highest   ecclesiastical  position   of  the   Zen   sect,    one  of   the   most 
prominent  Buddhist  churches  of  Japan  : 


t 


*  * 


?.**.* 

7U 


The  poem  is  written  in  Chinese,  according  to  the  literary  cus- 
tom of  Japanese  scholars.  Metrically  considered  it  consists  of  four 
lines,  each  containing  seven  words,  to  be  read  from  the  top  down- 
wards, beginning  at  the  right.  The  second  and  fourth  lines  rhyme. 


l62  THE    MONIST. 

The  lines  marked  with  stars  are  the  poem  proper  ;  the  charac- 
ters at  the  right  are  the  dedication,  containing  a  transcription  of 
the  name  of  the  Editor  of  this  magazine,  while  the  three  lines  at 
the  left  read  : 

"  In  I  time  I  (of)  Western  |  calendar,  |  the  one  ||  thousand  ||  eight  |  hundred  ||  nine-|| 
-ty  I  third  (first  line)||  year  ;  |  the  ninth  |  month  ||  (on  the)  twen-|  -ty  ||  and  third  |{  day, 
(second  line);  Great|Ja-|-pan|country,*||  Kama-||  Kura,  ||Shaku||  So-||-yen  (third  line). 

The  translation  is  as  follows  : 

' '  Men  I  are  |  red  ||  yellow  ||  also  ||  black  |  (and)  white. 

But  the  path  (of  righteousness)  |  (has)  not  |  south  |j  north  ||  west  ||  (or)  east. 

(If  any  one)  does  not  |  believe  (this)  ||  (let  him)  look  |  (in  the)  heavens  |  above  |  (at 

the)  moon. 
(Her)  clear  ||  light  |  fills   entirely  ||  (and)    penetrates  ||  (the)   grand  |  vault  ||  (of    the) 

firmament. 

When  recited  the  poem  is  read  in  a  language  which  is  a  mix- 
ture of  Chinese  and  Japanese,  the  delivery  being  made  in  a  singing 
tone  with  long-drawn  accents  and  vibratory  modulations.  "j~ 

EDITOR. 


*The  expression,  "  Great  Japan  country,"  must  not  be  taken  as  self-praise.  It 
is  the  official  title  of  the  country,  used  exactly  as  is  the  phrase  "Great  Britain." 

f  The  Chinese  script,  as  is  well  known,  expresses  only  one  idea  by  one  sign  ; 
there  are  no  endings,  no  conjugations  or  declensions,  and  all  words  are  mono- 
syllables. The  pronunciation  is  different  in  different  provinces,  but  it  is  possible  to 
study  Chinese  literature  without  knowing  any  one  of  the  various  dialects. 

The  Japanese  have  adopted  to  a  great  extent  the  Chinese  script,  although  their 
language  differs  from  the  Chinese.  The  Japanese  possesses  inflexions  as  do  the 
European  languages.  Thus  not  only  does  it  take  a  scholar  to  write  such  poetry  as 
here  presented,  but  also  considerable  skill  is  required  to  read  the  verses. 

The  words  of  the  translation  are  so  divided  by  parallels  that  those  interested 
in  the  script  will  easily  be  able  to  make  out  the  characters.  They  will  find,  for  in- 
stance, the  same  word  "West"  in  line  6  from  the  right,  place  3  from  above,  and 
in  line  3  (viz.,  the  second  one  of  the  poem)  place  6  from  above.  The  character 
' '  grand  "  shows  a  slight  modification  of  ' '  great. "  If  the  sign  ' '  above  "  (which  appears 
in  line  4,  place  6)  were  inverted,  it  would  mean  "  below."  The  Chinese  system  of 
writing  numbers  is  still  very  primitive.  A  careful  reader  will  notice  that  in  the  last 
line  of  the  poem  "fills  entirely"  and  "penetrates"  are  two  words  expressing  the 
same  idea.  This  is  frequently  done  in  Chinese,  as  a  matter  of  form  whenever  the 
pronunciation  is  equivocal.  It  would  be  the  same  in  English  if  we  added  to  a  word, 
the  pronunciation  of  which  has  different  meanings,  some  of  its  synonyms,  for  in- 
stance, to  distinguish  "knight"  from  "  night  "  by  adding  "  chevalier,"  or  to  dis- 
tinguish "rite"  from  "right"  by  adding  "ceremony." 


THE  FUNDAMENTAL  TEACHINGS  OF 
BUDDHISM.* 

OUR  Lord,  the  Buddha,  was  born  in  the  twenty-sixth  year  of  the 
reign  of  King  Shan  of  the  Chow  dynasty  of  China,  and  entered 
the  state  of  Nirvana  in  the  fifty-third  year  of  the  reign  of  King  Boku, 
of  the  same  dynasty.  He  appeared  in  the  world  to  open  in  men  the 
wisdom  and  perception  of  Buddahood.  And  as  the  dispositions  of 
men  are  various,  so  His  teachings  are  various  ;  such  as,  lesser  and 
greater,  partial  and  complete,  temporal  and  eternal. 

The  Lord  Buddha  had  no  greater  object  in  view  than  to  bring 
before  men  the  highest  teaching,  which  is  that  of  the  sure  and  speedy 
means  of  the  One  Vehicle  of  salvation,  and  to  cause  them  to  see 
and  to  enter  into  His  wisdom  and  perception.  Thus  it  came  to  pass, 
that  in  the  third  week  of  His  own  enlightenment,  He  preached  the 
Avatamsaka  Sutra,  which  is  the  chief  wheel  of  His  law,  and  to  which 
His  other  teachings  point. 

In  one  scripture  He  says  :  "How  wondrous  !  All  men  can  have 
the  wisdom  and  virtues  of  Tathagata."  And  in  another  He  says  : 
"  When  a  Bodhisatvaf  attains  to  enlightenment,  and  sees  the  true 


*  Translated  by  K.  Ohara  and  revised  by  Philangi  Dasa.  The  author,  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Ashitsu,  of  Hieisan,  Omi,  Japan,  a  priest  of  the  Tendai  sect,  attended 
the  Parliament  of  Religions  at  Chicago  during  the  World's  Fair.  He  returned  to 
Japan  shortly  afterwards,  leaving  the  manuscript  of  this  article  in  our  possession. 
We  have  deemed  it  best  to  preserve  the  translator's  spelling  of  names  and  to  tamper 
with  the  text  as  little  as  possible.  We  have  omitted  only  two  or  three  unimportant 
lines  which  were  unintelligible  or  at  least  doubtful,  and  added  a  few  footnotes  which 
are  intended  for  those  not  familiar  with  Buddhistic  terms. — EDITOR. 

f  Bodhisatva  is  one  who  will  soon  become  a  Buddha. — ED. 


164  .THE  MONIST. 

state  of  all  things,  He  finds  that  even  herbs,  trees,  lands,  and  the 
earth  itself,  have  attained  to  the  state  of  Buddahood. " 

The  Buddha  opened  the  Avatamsaka  Sutra,  which  is  the  doc- 
trine of  the  sure  and  speedy  means  by  which  all  men  may  attain  to 
Tathagata's  wisdom  and  virtues,  which  are  latent  in  themselves. 
But  this  deep  doctrine  was  understood  only  by  the  Bodhisatvas  of 
the  highest  degree  :  the  rest  of  the  Buddhist  Brotherhood  (Sravakas  * 
and  Pacceka-Buddhasf)  did  not,  any  more  than  deaf-mutes,  under- 
stand it.  Hence  He  turned  the  Wheel  of  the  Law  of  the  Four  No- 
ble TruthsJ  (which  contain  elementary  teachings),  of  the  Twelve 
Chains  of  Causation§,  and  of  the  Six  Perfections.  ||  And  these  con- 
stitute the  Three  Vehicles,  or  means  of  salvation.  But  they  are  im- 
perfect, and  their  aims  and  works  slight,  when  compared  with  the 
One  Vehicle.  Hence  it  is  that  the  Buddha  preached  the  doctrine 
Vaipulya^f  :  in  which  He  criticised  and  rejected  their  aims  and 
works,  and  in  which  He  signally  worsted  them  ;  comparing  them 
with  lepers. 

It  was  the  Buddha's  earnest  purpose  to  enable  the  students  of 


*Sravaka  is  "he  who  heard  the  voice  "(of  Buddha).  The  Sravakas  are  the 
tyros,  constituting  the  lowest  degree  of  saintship. — ED. 

f  A  Pacceka-Buddha  is  a  Buddha  for  himself  only  ;  it  is  contrasted  with  a  Sam- 
masam-Buddha,  who  is  universal  and  a  teacher  of  the  world. — ED. 

\  The  four  noble  truths  are  (i)  the  existence  of  suffering,  (2)  the  recognition  of 
ignorance  as  the  cause  of  suffering,  (3)  the  extinction  of  suffering  by  the  cessation  of 
lust,  and  (4)  the  eight  paths  that  lead  to  the  cessation  of  lust.  The  eight  paths  that 
lead  to  the  cessation  of  lust  are  :  (i)  right  understanding,  (2)  right  resolutions,  (3) 
right  speech,  (4)  right  acts,  (5)  the  right  way  of  earning  a  livelihood,  (6)  right  efforts, 
(7)  right  meditation,  and  (8)  the  right  state  of  mind. — ED. 

§  The  twelve  chains  of  causation  (the  twelve  nidanas)  are  a  formula  which  de- 
scribes the  concatenation  of  ignorance,  suffering,  and  the  extinction  of  suffering. — ED. 

I  Mr.  Ashitsu  here  refers  to  the  six  kinds  of  Abhinna  or  supernatural  talents  of 
Buddha  which  he  acquired  under  the  Bodhi  tree  shortly  before  he  attained  enlighten- 
ment. These  are,  (i)  The  celestial  eye  which  perceives  everything.  (2)  The  celes- 
tial ear  which  comprehends  every  sound.  (3)  The  ability  of  transformation  so  as  to 
be  everything  for  everybody.  (4)  The  knowledge  of  previous  states  of  existence. 
(5)  The  faculty  of  understanding  the  minds  of  others.  (6)  The  knowledge  of  the 
ends  of  all  things. — ED. 

•[[The  Vaipulya  or  Mahavaipulya  sutras,  lit.  "  sutras  of  unlimited  meaning," 
contain  Mahayana  doctrines. — ED. 


THE   FUNDAMENTAL  TEACHINGS  OF  BUDDHISM.  165 

the  Tripitakas  *  to  follow  the  One  Vehicle,  by  purging  their  mind  of 
imperfection  and  by  looking  higher  and  ever  higher  for  ideals. 

Therefore,  we  find  in  Buddhism  a  chief  doctrine,  that  of  the 
Mahayanaf  school,  which  is  not  understood  by  ordinary  men,  but  only 
by  Bodhisatvas,  or  aspirants  for  Buddhahood. 

We  read  in  the  Vimalakirttinirdesa  Sutra  :  "All  Sravakas  that 
hear  this  mysterious  law  of  MokshaJ  (Deliverance),  will  spontane- 
ously cry  out  aloud,  so  as  to  cause  the  world  to  tremble.  But  the 
Bodhisatvas  will  greatly  rejoice  and  gladly  accept  it." 

In  this  He  has  mixed  the  twofold  and  the  threefold  doctrine  ; 
has  confounded  the  lower  and  the  higher  teaching  ;  and  has  explained 
the  laws  anent  annihilation.  He  has  taken  annihilation  in  a  lower 
sense  and  elevated  it  into  a  higher  ;  has  rejected  its  partial  sense 
for  its  full  sense  ;  has  destroyed  its  temporal  sense  for  its  eternal 
sense. 

For  years  our  Lord,  the  Buddha,  worked  at  this  ;  and  when  the 
hour  came  that  His  work  was  perfected,  He  put  before  the  world 
the  sure  and  speedy  means  of  salvation  (the  "  True  State  of  Things"). 
Hence  it  is,  that  men  of  every  kind  of  disposition  (those  of  the 
Three  Vehicles:  Sravakas,  Bodhisatvas,  and  Pacceka-Buddhas,  and 
Tchandhi)  are  here  led  into  the  One  Vehicle,  the  Saddharmapunda- 
rika  Sutra,  (the  Lotus-of-the  Good-Law  Scripture).  In  short,  the 
Buddha's  object  was,  according  to  the  Saddharmapundarika  Sutra, 
to  cause  all  men  to  enter  into  the  deep  secret  of  "opening  and  en- 
tering into  the  wisdom  and  perception  of  the  Buddha "  ;  and  to 


*  Tripitaka,  literally  translated,  "three  baskets,"  i.  e.,  three  collections  of 
books,  a  name  of  the  Buddhist  canon. — ED. 

f  The  Mahayana  or  great  doctrine  teaches  that  the  attainment  of  Nirvana  is  the 
complete  understanding  of  truth,  while  the  Hinayana  or  small  doctrine  regards  Nir- 
vana as  extinction.  The  conception  of  the  Mahayana  in  Western  Buddhism  (in  the 
Lamaism  of  Thibet)  is  fantastical  and  full  of  apocryphal  traditions,  while  the  Bud- 
dhism of  Japan  is,  upon  the  whole,  sober. — ED. 

|  Moksha  is  an  attitude  of  mind  which  is  attained  by  reflexion  and  concentra- 
tion of  thought.  We  read  in  the  Outlines  of  tJie  Mah&yAna  by  S.  Kuroda,  Superin- 
tendent of  Education  of  the  Jodo-sect,  Tokyo,  Japan,  1893,  p.  6:  "Rising  above 
love  and  hatred,  not  seeing  friend  or  enemy,  right  or  wrong,  and  abiding  in  the  truth 
even  among  worldly  relations,  passing  the  time  peacefully  and  thus  attaining  to  per- 
fect freedom  from  all  restraints  ;  this  is  the  state  of  the  true  Moksha." — ED. 


1 66  THE  MONIST. 

cause  them  to  attain  to  the  unspeakable  state  of  Mahaparinirvana  *; 
and  this,  by  setting  before  them,  first,  the  temporal  teaching,  and 
then,  the  eternal. 

Let  it  be  understood  that  the  Law  which  the  Buddha  perceived 
innermost,  is  not  communicable  by  words  or  signs,  but  only  by 
thought.  And  this  communication  is  termed,  the  "impression  of 
the  Buddha's  spirit."  When  a  man  gets  this  impression  he  attains, 
among  other  things,  to  great  powers,  and  becomes  active  and  free. 
As  this  thought-transference  is  common  within  the  Buddhist  Bro- 
therhood, whereby  the  Buddha's  spirit  is  transmitted  from  teacher 
to  teacher,  it  has  come  to  pass,  that  the  Buddha-doctrine  is  exceed- 
ingly prosperous  among  men  ;  that  its  future  is  bright  ;  and  that  it 
promises  to  become  universal  in  influence. 

The  Tripitakas  were  compiled  after  the  Master's  death.  But 
the  Tripitaka  of  the  Lesser  School  is  not  the  same  as  that  of  the 
Greater  School.  Concerning  the  compilation  of  the  Scriptures  of 
the  Greater  School,  a  work  entitled  "  Gi-rin-sho,"  gives  two  ver- 
sions :  (i)  that  the  Hindus  compiled  them  at  the  same  time  as  they 
compiled  those  of  the  Lesser  School,  from  thought-traditions  ;  and 
(2)  that  the  Bodhisatva  Maitreya  and  Ananda  went  together  into  a 
valley  of  Mount  Tchakravala,  and,  according  to  Chito-sastra,  com- 
piled them  there. 

At  this  day  the  Buddhist  Brotherhood  may  be  distinguished 
into  three  schools  :  (i)  the  Southern,  which  abides  in  Siam,  Burmah, 
and  Ceylon  ;  (2)  the  Northern,  which  abides  in  Tibet,  China,  Mon- 
golia, and  Mantchuria  ;  and  (3)  the  Eastern,  which  abides"  in  Japan. 
The  Southern  school  follows  the  Lesser  Doctrine ;  the  Northern  is 
Lamaistic  ;  both  exoteric  and  esoteric  ;  and  the  Eastern  follows  the 
Greater  Doctrine. 

In  the  seventh  year  of  the  Eirei  period,  in  the  reign  of  the  Em- 
peror Ming,  of  the  later  Hang  dynasty  of  China  (67  A.  D.),  Bud- 
dhism was  introduced  into  China  ;  and  thence,  in  the  thirteenth 
year  of  the  reign  of  the  Emperor  Kimmei  (552  A.  D.),  it  came  into 


—En. 


-  Nir\ana,  parinirvana,  end  mahaparinirvana  have  become  synonymous  terms 


THE   FUNDAMENTAL  TEACHINGS   OF  BUDDHISM.  167 

Japan.  The  King  Sing-Ming  of  Kurara  (in  Ancient  Korea)  presented 
an  image  of  the  Buddha,  and  some  of  the  sacred  books,  to  the 
Japanese  Court. 

In  India,  far  back  in  time,  the  Buddha-teaching  was  diligently 
propagated  by  King  Asoka,  and  flourished  throughout  that  Peninsula. 
About  six  hundred  years  after  the  Buddha,  the  Bodhisatva  Asva- 
ghosha  wrote  the  Mahayana  Sraddhatpada  Shastra  (the  "Book  on 
Faith  in  the  Mahayana  ")  ;  and  many  great  ascetics,  like  Nagarjuna,* 
Deva,f  Asamga,  J  and  Vasubandhu,  §  arose,  and  the  Mahayana  school 
flourished  amain.  But  centuries  later,  the  students  of  this  school 
were  greatly  persecuted  by  the  Brahmans  ;  and,  later  still,  the  Mo- 
hammedans invaded  India  and  rooted  out  the  whole  Brotherhood. 
After  the  sixteenth  century,  the  teachings  of  the  Greater  and  Lesser 
Schools  were  found  only  in  Bhootan,  Kashmir,  and  Nepal,  in  the 
North,  and  in  Ceylon,  in  the  South. 

In  China  the  Good  Law  spread  quickest  after  the  later  Han 
dynasty,  and  became  most  powerful  in  the  time  of  the  Tang  and 
Sung  dynasties.  But  its  influence  lessened  considerably  in  the  time 

of  the  Yuen  and  Ming  dynasties. 

* 
*  * 

I  will  now  give  my  readers  an  outline  of  Japanese  Buddhism, 
and  especially  of  the  spirit  of  the  Mahayana  School  in  Japan.  The 
special  doctrines  of  the  Tendai,  Jodo,  Zen,  Shin,  Nichiren,  Holy 
Path,  and  pure  Land  Schools,  I  omit,  as  they  may  be  found  in  the 
respective  scriptures  of  these  schools. 

*  Nagarjuna,  the  fourteenth  patriarch  and  author  of  fifty  books,  famous  for  his 
dialectic  abilities ;  he  is  said  to  be  the  greatest  philosopher  and  subtlest  thinker  of 
Buddhism.  He  taught  that  the  soul  is  neither  existent  nor  non-existent,  neither 
eternal  nor  non-eternal,  neither  annihilated  by  death  nor  non-annihilated.  His 
death  is  given  in  B.  C.  212  or  A.  D.  194. — ED. 

f  Deva,  the  nineteenth  patriarch,  is  the  author  of  nine  books  and  a  prominent 
antagonist  of  Brahmanism. — ED. 

\  Asangha  lived,  about  ^50  A  D.,  in  Oude.  Strongly  influenced  by  Brahman- 
ism  and  Sivaism,  he  became  the  founder  of  a  new  school,  called  the  Yogatcharga  or 
Tantia  school.  His  works  were  translated  into  Chinese  590-616  A.  D. — ED. 

§  Vasubandhu,  a  native  of  Rajagrika  and  a  disciple  of  Nagarjuna,  is  counted  as 
the  twenty-first  or  twenty-second  patriarch  Like  his  master,  he  taught  the  Ami- 
tabha  doctrine.  Amitabha  means  "  boundless  light.'1 — ED. 


1 68  THE  MONIST. 

When  the  Buddhist  Scriptures  were  brought  from  India  to  China 
by  scholars  who  were  deeply  versed  both  in  doctrine  and  in  linguis- 
tic science,  they  were  faithfully  translated  into  the  Chinese  language; 
and  the  emperors  of  those  times  encouraged  the  work  by  liberal  con- 
tributions. The  translation  of  the  Saddharmapundarika  *  Sutra  by 
Kumaragivaf  in  the  Tsing  dynasty  of  the  Yo  family,  and  of  the  Ma- 
hapragnaparamita  Sutra  by  Hiouen  Tsang,  in  the  Tang  dynasty  of 
the  Li  family,  were  made  by  imperial  orders  ;  and  many  of  the  fore- 
most scholars  were  commissioned  to  assist  in  the  work.  Thus  the 
emperors  reverenced  the  Sacred  Doctrines ;  and  the  translations 
were  scholarly  and  perfect,  in  harmony  with  the  spirit  of  the  Buddha  ; 
and  shone  like  bright  jewels  in  the  literary  sky. 

But,  who  threw  a  new  light  upon  the  Saddharmapundarika 
Sutra  ;  who  wrote  the  great  commentary  and  doctrinal  exposition  of 
it,  and  brought  before  the  world  its  profound  secrets?  The  great 
teacher  Chi-sha  of  the  Tendai  school  !  He  fathomed  the  deep  teach- 
ings of  the  Buddha,  and  gathered  them  together :  a  work  as  great 
as  any  ever  done.  Thus  the  fulfilment  of  the  Law  took  place  in  the 
Tendai  school. 

When  the  Buddha-doctrine  began  to  spread  in  Japan,  the  phi- 
losopher Den-gio,  the  founder  of  the  Tendai  school  on  Mount  Hiei, 
began  to  promulgate  the  special  doctrine  of  the  Tendai  (805  A.  D.), 
and  thus  made  known  the  teachings  of  the  Saddharmapundarika 
Sutra.  Thus  he  made  manifest  the  sure  and  quick  path  of  Salva- 
tion, and  established  the  Mahayana  School  in  Japan. 

Besides  this,  he  concentrated  in  the  Tendai  school  the  "Three 
Laws  of  Secrecy"  (of  the  True  Word),  "Contemplation"  (of  the 
Bodhidharma),  and  the  "Moral  Precepts"  (of  the  Mahayana);  and 
caused  the  principles  of  his  school  to  be  widely  circulated.  Hence 
it  is,  that  the  Tendai  school  teaches  the  profoundest  truths. 

The  Buddha-doctrine,  ever  powerful  for  good  throughout  Asia, 


*  Saddharma  means  literally  "the  wonderful  law";  pundarika  means  "the 
white  lotus." — ED. 

f  Kumarajiva,  a  native  of  Kharachar,  was  a  great  expositor  of  the  Mahayana. 
He  was  carried  a  prisoner  to  China  (A  D.  383),  where  he  translated  many  of  the 
sacred  books.  He  is  "  one  of  the  four  suns  of  Buddhism." — ED. 


THE  FUNDAMENTAL  TEACHINGS  OF  BUDDHISM.  169 

has  now  its  chief  centre  on  Mount  Hiei,  the  starting-point  of  Jap- 
anese Buddhism  :  and  any  commentary  or  summary  of  Buddhist 
doctrine  and  meditation  would  be  imperfect  unless  measured  by  the 
standard  of  the  school  of  Mount  Hiei.  Hence  I  will  set  before  the 
reader  the  Buddha-doctrine  according  to  this  school  ;  interspersed 
with  a  few  remarks  of  my  own.  I  shall  do  as  the  weaver,  who  mixes 
warp  and  woof  into  one  cloth.  I  shall  use  the  Buddha  Sakyamuni's 
teaching  as  the  warp,  and  the  Tendai's  doctrine  as  the  woof,  and  so 
produce  a  beautiful  sample  of  the  sacred  teachings  of  the  Buddha. 
My  aim  shall  be  to  point  out  the  Buddha's  wisdom  and  perception 
as  the  secret  heritage  of  all  men. 

As  the  first  gate  of  initiation  into  the  genuine  Buddha-doctrine, 
and  the  degrees  of  progress  therein,  are  plainly  and  fully  stated  in 
the  Tendai  scriptures,  and  in  the  works  on  "Secrecy,"  "Contem- 
plation," and  "  Moral  Precepts,"  I  shall  omit  them  here,  and  confine 
myself  to  the  general  spirit  of  it. 

The  Law  of  our  Lord,  the  Buddha,  is  not  a  natural  science  or 
a  religion  but  a  doctrine  of  enlightenment  :  and  the  object  of  it  is  to 
give  rest  to  the  restless  ;  to  point  out  the  Master  (the  Inmost  Man) 
to  those  that  are  blind  and  do  not  perceive  their  Original  State. 

Without  deep  meditation  and  a  full  understanding  of  the  Doc- 
trine of  Enlightenment,  no  one  can  attain  to  onement  with  the 
Master  within.  He  that  would  know  the  spirit  of  the  Good  Law 
should  not  idle  away  his  time  in  books  and  scriptures,  nor  fatten 
upon  the  thoughts  of  others,  but  should  meditate  upon  his  own  state 
of  life  and  conduct  :  closely  guard  his  mind  and  senses ;  and  learn 
who,  in  himself,  it  is  that  thinks  and  feels  :  this  being  the  key  that 
opens  the  gate  which  leads  into  the  Path  of  Buddha.  For  he  who 
does  not  suffer  his  mind  to  wander,  but  closely  and  incessantly 
watches  himself  can,  as  it  were,  discover  the  great  Path  in  his  own 
right  hand.  He  can  fathom  the  nature  of  true  peace  of  mind,  and 
the  very  inmost  spirit  of  the  Buddha's  teaching. 

It  is  then,  the  first  duty  of  him  who  would  become  a  Buddhist, 
to  know  and  perceive  the  root  of  the  daily  phenomena  of  the  senses  ; 
and  then  to  compare  this  knowledge  and  perception  with  the  teach- 
ings of  the  Sacred  Scriptures,  the  mirrors  which  reflect  his  thoughts, 


170  THE  MON1ST. 

so  as  to  learn  the   right  and  wrong.      The   scriptures  will   indicate 
whether  the  thoughts  and  phenomena  are  right  or  wrong. 

O  brethren  !     Open  your  eyes   and  look  !     Why  are  we  here? 
With  the  sky  above  and  the  earth  beneath  us?     Why  do  we  behold' 
about  us  the  innumerable  phenomena  of  Nature  ?    Are  they  not  the 
reflex  images  of  our  thoughts  ?     Are  not  we  the  creators  of  these 
things  ;  of  the  whole?     Where  is  the  God-Creator,  if  not  within  us? 

The  six  roots  (eye,  ear,  nose,  tongue,  body,  and  thought)  meet 
the  six  objects  (form,  sound,  smell,  taste,  touch,  and  things),  and, 
behold,  creation  !  The  eye  meets  form,  and  knowledge  or  percep- 
tion results  :  the  eye  has  no  self  or  another  principle  ;  the  form  has 
nothing  that  can  be  taken  or  rejected  ;  and  the  knowledge  or  per- 
ception has  no  birth  nor  death.  Dear  reader,  think  deeply. 

O  brethren,  hearken  unto  me  !  These  are  the  voices  of  the 
images  of  our  thoughts  :  sounds  of  every  description  :  inanimate, 
animal,  human.  They  are  all  heard  by  the  action  of  our  Innermost 
Mind.  They  are  not  the  work  of  any  extra-human,  extra-cosmic 
god.  The  ear  cannot  hear  ;  sound  is  not  harmonious  or  inharmoni- 
ous ;  knowledge  or  perception  is  not  learned  or  unlearned.  Dear 
reader,  think  deeply. 

O  brethren,  inhale  the  air  about  you  !  Is  it  fragrant  or  foul? 
Then,  it  is  your  mind  that  makes  it  so.  No  creator,  no  god  makes 
it  so  ;  but  your  mind.  The  nose  meets  an  odor,  and  knowledge  or 
perception  results.  The  nose  is  neither  fragrant  nor  foul  ;  the  odor 
is  neither  this  nor  that ;  the  knowledge  or  perception  is  neither 
transmigration,  nor  Nirvana.  Dear  reader,  think  deeply. 

O  brethren,  consider  your  tongue.  Why  does  it  taste  and  speak? 
Does  a  god  make  it  taste  and  speak?  Are  not  the  taste  and  the 
speech  the  results  of  the  mind  ?  The  tongue  meets  the  object,  and 
knowledge  or  perception  is  the  result.  Naturally  there  is  nothing 
good  or  bad  in  the  tongue  ;  the  object  of  taste  is  neither  knowledge 
nor  ignorance  ;  and  knowledge  or  perception  is  neither  existence 
nor  non-existence.  Dear  reader,  think  deeply. 

O  brethren,  look  at  your  body  !  Why  does  it  feel?  Why  does 
it  work?  Is  it  of  a  god  or  of  the  mind?  The  body  meets  an  object, 
and  the  sense  of  touch  arises.  The  sense  of  touch  arises  when  the 


THE   FUNDAMENTAL  TEACHINGS  OF  BUDDHISM.  171 

mind  is  with  the  body.  The  body  is  neither  past  nor  present ;  the 
object  of  touch  is  neither  present  nor  future ;  and  there  are  no  tem- 
poral names  of  men  and  Buddhas.  Dear  reader,  think  deeply. 

O  brethren,  consider  your  thought  !  Why  are  there  thoughts, 
imaginings,  guessings,  and  considerings?  Are  they  of  a  god,  or  of 
your  mind?  When  the  light  of  the  mind  joins  the  thought,  we  call 
that  "thinking."  When  the  thought  joins  external  objects,  the 
knowledge  of  thought  or  mind  arises.  Naturally,  the  thought-root 
itself  does  not  move  nor  rest ;  the  external  objects  are  neither  good 
nor  bad  ;  and  the  knowledge  of  the  thought- root  is  neither  just  nor 
unjust.  Dear  reader,  think  deeply. 

We  should  not  say  that  the  objects  about  us,  be  they  small  or 
large,  are  within  or  without  our  mind.  All  living  beings  about  us 
are  equal  from  eternity,  let  them  differ  ever  so  much  in  sex,  station, 
and  knowledge  :  not  one  should  be  loved  or  hated  above  another  ; 
and  no  distinction  should  be  made  between  self  and  neighbor.  To 
grasp  the  fact  that  the  six  roots  (the  five  organs  of  sense  and  the 
thought)  are  at  onement  with  the  One  Mind,  and  are,  therefore,, 
naught  but  the  One  Self-conscious  Mind,  is  the  surest  way  to  attain 
unto  the  state  of  Buddhahood. 

The  actions  apparent  in  the  Six  Roots  are  the  various  lights 
from  the  One  Mind,  and  the  objects  of  the  Six  Roots  are  Its  images. 
He  who  is  free  from  every  outside  state  and  bond,  such  as  supersti- 
tion, priest,  church,  saviour,  and  god,  and  who,  therefore,  enjoys 
real  freedom  of  mind,  is  a  Great  Man,  for  he  has  attained  unto  the 
wisdom  and  perception  of  Buddhahood ;  he  has,  to  use  the  words 
of  the  Swedish  mystic,  Swedenborg,  "  inwardly  in  himself  seen  his 
Divine  Being,"  which  is  the  Buddha  in  man.  And  he  that  aims  at 
the  attainment  of  this  onement  with  that  Inmost  Mind  is  called  a 
disciple  of  the  Buddha.  But  he  whose  thoughts  are  not  centered  for 
this  aim  is  ignorant.  The  chief  end  in  view  of  the  Buddha-teach- 
ing is  the  dispersion  of  the  darkness  of  ignorance  and  the  attain- 
ment of  enlightenment. 

To  know  the  Mind  as  it  is  in  itself,  is  to  know  and  understand 
the  secrets  of  Nature.  Ignorance  of  what  the  Mind  is  in  itself  causes 
confusion,  so  that  the  objects  of  sense  seem  to  be  independent  of 


172  THE  MONIST. 

the  Mind  ;  and  in  this  way  is  the  understanding  of  their  real  nature 
frustrated.  And  the  attainment  of  enlightenment,  through  the  dis- 
persion of  the  darkness  of  ignorance,  is  at  the  same  time  the  knowl- 
edge and  perception  of  the  Mind  as  it  is  :  the  attainment  of  univer- 
sal wisdom. 

The  Saddharmapundarika  Sutra  teaches  us  how  to  obtain  that 
desirable  knowledge  of  the  Mind  as  it  is  in  itself.  Many  other  scrip- 
tures teach  the  same  ;  but  as  they  are  interspersed  with  various 
teachings,  temporal  and  eternal,  lesser  and  greater,  partial  and  full, 
they  create  confusion,  and  so  fail  in  the  main.  The  sutras  preached 
before  the  Saddharmapundarika  contain  more  of  the  nature  of  the 
temporal  than  of  the  eternal  law.  Hence  it  is  said,  in  the  Amitartha 
Sutra,  that  the  Truth  is  not  yet  made  manifest  during  the  past  forty 
years.  But  in  the  study  of  the  Saddharmapundarika  Sutra,  the  scholar 
has  to  rise  above  the  mere  literal  or  exoteric  sense,  the  yellow  or 
red  pages;  otherwise  its  spirit  will  elude  him,  and  he  will  remain  a 
stranger  to  its  secrets. 

All  scriptures  are  images  of  the  One  Mind :  so  that  if  we  take 
these  images  for  the  realities  which  they  represent,  we  remain  for- 
ever in  the  dark  ;  and  no  matter  how  soul-stirring  and  blessing  they 
may  be  in  themselves,  they  are  to  us  practically  inert  and  unbless- 
ing ;  and  not  only  so,  but  also  positive  fetters  that  impede  spiritual 
progress. 

In  view  of  this,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  a  wise  man  of 
old  said  :  "A  sage  set  turning  the  wheel  of  the  Saddharmapundarika 
Sutra,  but  every  sciolist  that  touches  it  is  turned  by  it." 

Mind  is  the  One  Reality,  and  all  scriptures  are  the  micrographic 
photographs  of  its  images.  He  that  fully  grasps  the  Divine  Body 
of  Sakyamuni,  holds  ever,  even  without  the  written  Sutra,  the  inner 
Saddharmapundarika  in  his  hand.  He  ever  reads  it  mentally,  even 
though  he  would  never  read  it  orally.  He  is  unified  with  it,  though 
he  has  no  thought  about  it.  He  is  the  true  keeper  of  the  Sutra. 

Let  me  here  give  a  brief  account  of  the  spirit  of  the  Noble  Doc- 
trine, according  to  the  Mahayana  scriptures,  which  the  Buddha 
Sakyamuni,  the  Nirmanakaya,  or  Glorified  Body,  of  the  incarnate 


THE  FUNDAMENTAL  TEACHINGS  OF  BUDDHISM.  173 

Buddha,  that  is,  the  historical,  not  the  doctrinal,  Buddha,  had  in 
view. 

The  Buddha  Sakyamuni  gave  us  the  great  Pitaka,  which  con- 
sists of  some  odd  five  thousand  volumes,  and  which  was  given  in 
the  course  of  about  fifty  years.  In  this  His  teaching  varies  greatly  : 
here  it  is  thus,  and  there  it  is  thus.  "  I  have,"  said  He,  "  preached, 
I  now  preach,  and  I  shall  preach  to  you  the  Supreme  Doctrine  of 
the  Lotus  of  the  Good  Law."  But,  in  His  last  hours,  when  about 
to  pass  into  the  full  Nirvana,  he  said  :  "From  the  dawn  of  my  in- 
itiation to  the  sunset  of  my  Nirvana,  I  have  not  preached  a  word." 
And  why  did  He  say  this  ?  If  we  look  at  the  matter  from  a  mental 
point  of  view,  oral  preaching  is  not  real  preaching  ;  the  sermon  of 
a  whole  day  equals  silence,  but  a  sermon  of  good  deeds  may  be 
effective.  The  Law  of  Mind  is  indeed  unutterable  ;  it  cannot  be 
described  by  words,  try  we  ever  so  hard.  It  eludes  our  best  and 
strongest  efforts.  It  lacks  a  mundane  name.  Our  Lord,  the  Bud- 
dha, said:  "I  have  not  preached  it."  And,  "It  is  beyond  the 
sphere  of  human  word,  thought,  and  imagination."  To  speak  of 
the  Law  of  Mind  is  like  trying  to  paint  the  air  :  as  in  itself  the  air 
is  free  and  void  of  every  obstacle,  so  is  also  the  Mind.  The  Mind 
is  free  from  every  hindrance  :  it  is  not  graspable.  And  as  this  is  its 
nature,  it  naturally  is  not  to  be  fully  expressed. 

Now,  he  that  understands  the  Law  of  Mind,  inexpressible  in 
human  language,  is  styled  a  Buddha.  Nirvana,  the  Middle  Path, 
and  the  True  State,  are  other  terms  that  describe  his  state.  He  is 
free,  pure,  and  incomprehensible  to  the  carnal  man.  He  is  the  Lo- 
tus of  the  Good  Law. 

The  Saddharmapundarika  Sutra  is  the  Body  of  all  the  Buddhas. 
Those  who  abide,  walk,  and  confide  in  the  spirit  of  this  Sutra,  who 
pray  the  Original  Prayer,  that  is,  attain  unto  enlightenment  and  de- 
liver others  by  means  of  it,  are  true  Saviours.  The  founders  of  the 
various  Buddhist  schools  have  been  such  ;  and  we  must  follow  their 
virtuous  example. 

Our  true  Master,  the  Lord  Buddha,  who  appeared  in  this  world 
as  a  venerable  monk,  who  lived  and  preached  for  eighty  years,  who 
consumed  the  dross  of  this  earthly  life,  and  who  entered  Nirvana, 


174  THE  MONIST. 

has  no  passion-flame  in  Him.      And  he  that  reveres  and  obeys  this 
Master  and  lives  in   the  spirit  of  the  Saddharmapundarika  Sutra 
preached  by  Him,  is  a  true  follower  of  the  Doctrine  of  Enlighten 
ment. 

The  Buddha-life  esteems  highly  both  meditation  and  intelli- 
gence, as  means  of  dispersion  of  confusion  and  of  attainment  of  en- 
lightenment ;  but  there  is  no  profit  in  either ;  peace  of  mind  and 
onement  with  life  are  out  of  the  question,  unless  we  open  our  Mind 
and  free  it  from  confusion,  and  perceive  in  us  the  Divinity. 

As  the  scriptures  were  preached  by  the  Buddha  in  a  state  of 
enlightenment,  they  contain  many  degrees  of  teaching,  high  and 
low,  deep  and  superficial,  adapted  to  the  reader's  state  of  intelli- 
gence, or  his  degree  of  meditation  and  comprehension.  If  a  man's 
mind  is  in  the  Path  and  in  harmony  with  the  Buddha's  mind,  the 
scriptures  seem  to  be  preached  by  himself,  rather  than  by  the  Bud- 
dha. And  though  there  are  many  scriptures  that  represent  the 
minds  of  men,  yet  the  Saddharmapundarika  is  the  most  important. 

Many  scriptures  contain  the  mental  and  primary  doctrines  con- 
cerning the  attainment  of  Buddhahood  by  all  men  ;  but  none  so 
clearly  and  perfectly  as  the  Saddharmapundarika  :  for  it  points  out 
the  way  to  that  attainment  in  a  most  concise  and  sure  manner. 
Now,  what  is  this  Sutra  ?  Does  it  contain  merely  letters,  words, 
pages,  leaves,  and  covers?  Indeed,  no  !  It  contains  our  mind  itself. 
The  material  sutra  of  eight  volumes  is  of  no  earthly  use  if  detached 
from  our  mind.  Although  much  esteemed  by  Buddhists,  as  con- 
taining the  seal  of  the  Buddha's  mind,  still,  since  fire  can  consume 
it,  it  is  not  more  so  than  any  other  scripture.  In  reading  the  true 
Sutra,  which  bears  in  itself  marks  of  the  Buddha's  mind,  we  may  be 
in  the  state  of  the  "Lotus  of  the  Good  Law,"  and  so  in  onement 
with  the  Buddha  Sakyamuni.  If  we  attain  to  onement  with  this 
Buddha,  our  hope  is  then  perfected  and  fulfilled.  This  is  our  only 
hope,  and  we  need  no  other.  Therefore,  it  is  just  to  say,  that  when 
we  open  and  unfold  our  mind,  and  become  enlightened,  and  attain 
to  the  state  of  the  Buddha  Sakyamuni,  the  scriptures  are  of  very 
little  use  to  us. 

If  we  cling  to  the  literal  scriptures,  we  are  evidently  in  a  state 


THK   FUNDAMENTAL  TEACHINGS   OF  BUDDHISM. 


175 


in  which  the  true  meaning  of  the  Sutra  is  foreign  to  us,  and  in  which 
confusion  and  passion  fetter  us.  The  sage  regards  the  scriptures  as 
guide-posts  toward  the  Path  of  Mind  ;  when  he  has  found  and  en- 
tered that  Path,  he  needs  them  no  longer. 

It  was  said  of  old  :  "All  the  Sutras  are  nothing  but  fingers  that 
point  out  the  shining  moon."  When  once  we  see  the  moon,  point- 
ers are  no  longer  necessary.  If  we  adhere  to  the  literal  sense  of 
sutras,  and  their  commentaries,  and  interpretations,  we  miss  the 
spiritual  sense,  and  we  grow  old  and  die  in  darkness.  We  are  then 
exoteric  disciples  of  the  Buddha,  instead  of  esoteric.  Without  the 
spiritual  sense  we  can  never  understand  the  Good  Law. 

It  is  laudable  to  count  the  rosary,  wear  the  yellow  robes,  and 
read  sutras  before  images  of  the  Buddha  ;  but  this  is  formal,  not 
essential,  discipleship.  Essential  discipleship  requires  a  perception 
of  the  divine  meaning  of  the  Buddha,  and  thought,  speech,  and 
action  in  accordance  with  it.  The  disciple  must  not,  in  any  atti- 
tude, be  it  walking,  sitting,  or  lying  down,  take  his  mind  from  the 
divine  sense  of  the  Buddha.  An  unswerving  adherence  to  this  sense 
makes  him  a  follower  of  the  Mahayana  doctrine  and  a  true  Buddhist. 

The  Good  Law,  in  its  essence,  is  indeed  not  easy  of  compre- 
hension ;  but  earnest  aspiration  and  deep  thought  lead  to  the  truth. 


ZlTSUZEN  ASHITSU. 


HIEISAN,  OMI,  JAPAN. 


ON  THE  CONNEXION  BETWEEN  INDIAN  AND 
GREEK  PHILOSOPHY.* 

BEFORE  I  enter  upon  the  discussion  of  the  questions  for  which 
I  have  the  honor  of  asking  your  kind  attention,  I  think  it  neces- 
sary to  sketch  briefly  the   two  philosophical  doctrines  of  Ancient 
India  which  principally  come  into  consideration  for  my  purpose. 

In  the  earliest  philosophical  works  of  India,  in  the  oldest  Upani- 
shads,  we  meet  with  an  idealistic  monism  which  later  acquires  the 
name  of  Vedanta.  It  is  true,  those  works  abound  in  reflexions  on 
theological,  ritualistic,  and  other  matters,  but  all  these  reflexions 
are  utterly  eclipsed  by  the  doctrine  of  the  Eternal-  One,  the  Atman 
or  Brahman.  The  word  Atman  originally  meant  /'breathing," 
then  "the  vital  principle,"  "the  Self";  but  soon  it  was  used  to 
signify  the  Intransient  ONE  which  is  without  any  attribute  or  quality — 
the  All-Soul,  the  Soul  of  the  World,  the  Thing-in-Itself,  or  whatever 
you  like  to  translate  it.  Brahman  on  the  other  hand,  originally  "the 
prayer,"  became  a  term  for  the  power  which  is  inherent  in  every 
prayer  and  holy  action,  and  at  last  for  the  eternal,  boundless  power 
which  is  the  basis  of  everything  existing.  Having  attained  this  stage 
of  development,  the  word  Brahman  became  completely  synonymous 
with  Atman.  The  objective  Brahman  and  the  subjective  Atman 
amalgamated  into  one,  the  highest  metaphysical  idea  ;  and  this 
amalgamation  comprises  the  doctrine  of  the  unity  of  the  subject  and 
the  object.  In  numerous  parables  the  Upanishads  try  to  describe 


*  An  address  delivered  before   the   Philological  Congress  of  the  World's  Fair 
Auxiliary  at  Chicago,  July  12,  1893. 


THE  CONNEXION  BETWEEN   INDIAN  AND  GREEK  PHILOSOPHY.         177 

the  nature  of  Brahman,  but  all  their  reflexions  culminate  in  one 
point  :  the  inmost  Self  of  the  individual  being  is  one  with  that  all- 
pervading  power  (tat  tvam  asi,  "thou  art  That"). 

This  spiritual  monism  challenged  the  contradiction  of  Kapila, 
the  founder  of  the  Sawkhya  philosophy,  who,  in  a  rationalistic  way, 
saw  only  the  diversity,  but  not  the  unity  of  the  universe.  The  Saw- 
khya  doctrine — the  oldest  real  system  of  Indian  philosophy — is  en- 
tirely dualistic.'  Two  things  are  admitted,  both  eternal  and  ever- 
lasting, but  in  their  innermost  character  totally  different ;  namely, 
matter  and  soul,  or  better  a  boundless  plurality  of  individual  souls. 
The  existence  of  the  creator  and  ruler  of  the  universe  is  denied. 
The  world  develops  according  to  certain  laws  out  of  primitive  matter, 
which  first  produces  those  subtile  substances  of  which  the  internal 
organs  of  all  creatures  are  formed,  and  after  that  brings  forth  the 
gross  matter.  At  the  end  of  a  period  of  the  universe  the  products 
dissolve  by  retrogradation  into  primitive  matter  ;  and  this  continual 
cycle  of  evolution,  existence,  and  dissolution  has  neither  beginning 
nor  end.  The  psychology  of  this  interesting  system  is  of  special  im- 
portance. All  the  functions  which  ordinarily  we  denote  as  psychic, 
i.  e.,  perception,  sensation,  thinking,  willing,  etc.,  according  to  the 
Sawkhya  doctrine,  are  merely  mechanical  processes  of  the  internal 
organs,  that  is,  of  matter.  These  would  remain  unconscious,  if 
it  were  not  for  the  soul  which  "illuminates"  them,  i.  e.,  makes  them 
conscious.  No  other  object  is  accomplished  by  soul.  Soul  is  per- 
fectly indifferent  and,  therefore,  also,  not  the  vehicle  of  moral  re- 
sponsibility. This  office  is  assumed  by  the  subtile  or  internal  body, 
which  is  chiefly  formed  of  the  inner  organs  and  the  senses,  and  which 
surrounds  the  soul.  This  internal  body  accompanies  soul  from  one 
existence  into  another,  and  is,  therefore,  the  real  principle  of  metem- 
psychosis. It  is  the  object  of  the  Sa;//khya  philosophy  to  teach 
people  to  know  the  absolute  distinction  between  soul  and  matter  in 
its  most  subtile  modifications,  as  it  appears  in  the  inner  organs.  A 
man  has  attained  the  highest  aim  of  human  exertion,  if  this  distinc- 
tion is  perfectly  clear  to  him  :  discriminative  knowledge  delivers 
soul  from  the  misery  of  the  endless  flow  of  existence  and  abolishes 
the  necessity  of  being  born  again.  The  Sawkhya  philosophy  is  al- 


178  THE   M  ONI  ST. 

ready  saturated  with   that  pessimism   which  has  put  its  stamp  on 
Buddhism,  the  outcome  of  this  system. 

For  the  following  reflexions  it  is  necessary  to  bear  in  mind  that 
the  Vedanta  of  the  Upanishads  and  the  Sawkhya  philosophy  had 
both  spread  through  Northern  India  before  the  middle  of  the  sixth 
century  before  Christ. 

The  coincidences  between  Indian  and  Greek  philosophy  are  so 
numerous  that  some  of  them  were  noticed  immediately  after  the  In- 
dian systems  became  known  to  Europeans. 

The  most  striking  resemblance — I  am  almost  tempted  to  say 
sameness — is  that  between  the  doctrine  of  the  All-One  in  the  Upani- 
shads and  the  philosophy  of  the  Eleatics.  Xenophanes  teaches  that 
God  and  the  Universe  are  one,  eternal,  and  unchangeable  ;  and  Par- 
menides  holds  that  reality  is  due  alone  to  this  universal  being,  neither 
created  nor  to  be  destroyed,  and  omnipresent ;  further,  that  every- 
thing which  exists  in  multiplicity  and  is  subject  to  mutability  is  not 
real ;  that  thinking  and  being  are  identical.  All  these  doctrines  are 
congruent  with  the  chief  contents  of  the  Upanishads  and  of  the  Ve- 
danta system,  founded  upon  the  latter.  It  is  true,  the  ideas  about 
the  illusive  character  of  the  empirical  world  and  about  the  identity 
between  existence  and  thought  are  not  yet  framed  into  doctrines  in 
the  older  Upanishads  ;  we  only  find  them  in  works  which  doubtlessly 
are  later  than  the  time  of  Xenophanes  and  Parmenides.  But  ideas 
from  which  those  doctrines  must  ultimately  have  developed,  are  met 
with  in  the  oldest  Upanishads ;  for  it  is  there  that  we  find  particular 
stress  laid  upon  the  singleness  and  immutability  of  Brahman  and 
upon  the  identity  of  thought  (vijndna]  and  Brahman.  I  therefore  do 
not  consider  it  an  anachronism  to  trace  the  philosophy  of  the  Eleatics 
to  India. 

But  even  earlier  than  this  can  analogies  between  the  Greek  and 
Indian  Worlds  of  thought  be  traced.  Thales,  the  father  of  the  Gre- 
cian philosophy,  imagines  everything  to  have  sprung  from  water. 
This  certainly  reminds  us  of  a  mythological  idea  which  was  very 
familiar  to  the  Indians  of  the  Vedic  time  ;  namely,  the  idea  of  the 
primeval  water  out  of  which  the  universe  was  evolved.  Even  in 
the  oldest  works  of  the  Vedic  literature  there  are  numerous  passages 


THE  CONNEXION   BETWEEN   INDIAN  AND  GREEK  PHILOSOPHY.         179 

in  which  this  primeval  water  is  mentioned,  either  producing  itself 
all  things  or  being  the  matter  out  of  which  the  Creator  produces 
them. 

Fundamental  ideas  of  the  Sawkhya  philosophy,  too,  are  found 
among  the  Greek  physiologers.  Anaximander  assumes,  as  the 
foundation  (apxrj)  oi  all  things,  a  primitive  matter,  eternal,  un- 
fathomable and  indefinite,  the  anzipov,  from  which  the  definite  sub- 
stances arise  and  into  which  they  return  again.  If  you  now  advert 
to  the  Sawkhya  doctrine,  that  the  material  world  is  produced  by 
Prakr/ti,  the  primitive  matter,  and,  when  the  time  has  come,  sinks 
back  into  it,  the  analogy  is  evident.  Let  us  proceed  to  another  ex- 
ample. There  is  Heraclitus,  the  "dark  Ephesian,"  whose  doctrine, 
it  is  true,  touches  Iranian  ideas  in  its  main  points.  Nevertheless  it 
offers  several  parallels  with  the  views  of  the  Sawkhya  philosophy. 
The  Ttdvra  pel  of  Heraclitus  is  a  suitable  expression  for  the  in- 
cessant change  of  the  empirical  world,  set  down  by  the  Sawkhya, 
and  his  doctrine  of  the  innumerable  annihilations  and  re-formations 
of  the  Universe  is  one  of  the  best  known  theories  of  the  Sawkhya 
system.* 

But  let  us  turn  to  the  physiologers  of  later  times.  The  first 
with  whom  we  have  to  deal  is  Empedocles,  whose  theories  of 
metempsychosis  and  evolution  may  well  be  compared  with  the  corre- 
sponding ideas  of  the  Sawkhya  philosophy.  But  most  striking  is 
the  agreement  between  the  following  doctrine  of  his,  "Nothing  can 
arise  which  has  not  existed  before,  and  nothing  existing  can  be  an- 
nihilated," and  that  most  characteristic  one  of  the  Sawkhya  system 
about  the  beginningless  and  endless  reality  of  all  products  (sat-kdrya- 
vdda],  or — as  we  should  put  it — about  the  eternity  and  indestructi- 
bility of  matter. 

In  a  similar  way,  a  connexion  may  be  traced  between  the  dual- 
ism of  Anaxagoras  and  that  of  the  Sa///khya  philosophy'.  And  not- 
withstanding his  atomism,  which  is  certainly  not  derived  from  India, f 

*  Colebrooke,  Miscellaneous  Essays,  second  edition,  Vol.  I,  p.  437,  discovers 
other  analogies  between  the  philosophy  of  Heraclitus  and  the  Sawkhya  doctrine. 

f  For  it  is  beyond  doubt  that  the  Indian  atomistical  systems,  Vaiceshika'  and 
Nyaya,  were  conceived  a  long  time  after  Leucippus  and  Democritus. 


l8o  THE  MONIST. 

even  Democritus  in  the  principles  of  his  metaphysics,  which  prob- 
ably are  rooted  in  the  doctrines  of  Empedocles,  reminds  us  of  a 
Sawkhya  tenet,  which  is  in  almost  literal  agreement  with  the  fol- 
lowing :  "Nothing  can  rise  from  nothing."  *  The  same  is  true  of 
his  conception  of  the  gods.  To  Democritus  they  are  not  immortal, 
but  only  happier  than  men  and  longer-lived  ;  and  this  is  in  perfect 
harmony  with  the  position  the  gods  occupy  not  only  in  the  Sa;;/khya 
but  in  all  Indian  systems.  According  to  Indian  ideas,  the  gods  are 
subject  to  metempsychosis  like  human  beings,  and  they  also  must 
step  down,  when  their  store  of  merit,  formerly  acquired,  is  ex- 
hausted. Says  (^a;;/kara,  the  renowned  Vedantist,  in  his  commen- 
tary on  the  Brahmasutra  (I.  3.  28):  "Words  like  '  Indra  '  mean  only 
the  holding  of  a  certain  office,  as  the  word  (  general '  for  instance  ; 
he  who  at  the  time  occupies  this  post  is  called  '  Indra.' ' 

The  same  ideas  are  met  with  in  Epicurus,  whose  dependency 
upon  Democritus  must  needs  have  brought  about  a  resemblance.  But 
also  on  matters  of  other  kinds  Epicurus  has  laid  down  principles 
which  in  themselves  as  well  as  in  their  arguments  bear  a  remarkable 
resemblance  to  Sawkhya  doctrines.  Epicurus,  in  denying  that  the 
world  is  ruled  by  God,  because  this  hypothesis  would  necessitate  our 
investing  the  deity  with  attributes  and  functions  that  are  incongruous 
with  the  idea  of  the  divine  nature,  gives  voice  to  a  doctrine  that  is 
repeated  by  the  Sa;//khya  teachers  with  unfatiguing  impressiveness. 
We  also  occasionally  meet,  in  the  systematic  works  of  the  Sawkhya 
philosophy,  a  favorite  argumentative  formula  of  Epicurus,  "Every- 
thing could  rise  from  everything  then." 

It  is  a  question  requiring  the  most  careful  treatment  to  deter- 
mine, whether  the  doctrines  of  the  Greek  philosophers,  both  those 
here  mentioned  and  others,  were  really  first  derived  from  the  Indian 
world  of  thought,  or  whether  they  were  constructed  independently 
of  each  other  in  both  India  and  Greece,  their  resemblance  being 
caused  by  the  natural  sameness  of  human  thought.  For  my  part,  I 
confess  I  am  inclined  towards  the  first  opinion,  without  intending  to 
pass  an  apodictic  decision.  The  book  of  Ed.  Roth  ("Geschichte 

*  Comp.  Sdi/ikhyasfttra,  I.  78. 


THE  CONNEXION  BETWEEN  INDIAN  AND  GREEK  PHILOSOPHY.         l8l 

unsrer  abendlandischen  Philosophic,"  first  edition  1846,  second  edi- 
tion 1862),  the  numerous  works  of  Aug.  Gladisch,  and  the  tract  of 
C.  B.  Schliiter  ("  Aristoteles'  Metaphysik  eine  Tochter  der  Sawkhya- 
Lehre  des  Kapila,"  1874) — all  go  too  far  in  their  estimation  of  Orien- 
tal influence  and  in  the  presentment  of  fantastical  combinations  ; 
moreover,  they  are  all  founded  upon  a  totally  insufficient  knowledge 
of  the  Oriental  sources.*  Nevertheless,  I  consider  them  to  contain 
a  kernel  of  truth,  although  it  can  hardly  be  hoped  that  this  kernel 
will  ever  be  laid  bare  with  scientific  accuracy.  The  historical  possi- 
bility of  the  Grecian  world  of  thought  being  influenced  by  India 
through  the  medium  of  Persia,  must  unquestionably  be  granted,  and 
with  it  the  possibility  of  the  above-mentioned  ideas  being  transferred 
from  India  to  Greece.  The  connexions  between  the  Ionic  inhabitants 
of  Asia  Minor  and  those  of  the  countries  to  the  east  of  it  were  so 
various  and  numerous  during  the  time  in  question,  that  abundant 
occasion  must  have  offered  itself  for  the  exchange  of  ideas  between 
the  Greeks  and  the  Indians,  then  living  in  Persia. f 


*  Compare  also  the  treatise  of  Baron  v.  Eckstein  "  Ueber  die  Grundlagen  der 
Indischen  Philosophic  und  deren  Zusammenhang  mit  den  Philosophemen  der  west- 
lichen  Volker,"  Indische  Stndien,  II.  369-388.  Even  earlier  than  this,  such  questions 
were  treated  with  astounding  boldness.  With  a  facility  of  conception  peculiar  to 
him,  Sir  William  Jones  (Works,  quarto  ed.,  1799,  I.  360,  36i)perceived  the  following 
analogies  :  "Of  the  philosophical  schools  it  will  be  sufficient,  here,  to  remark  that 
the  first  Nyaya  seems  analogous  to  the  Peripatetic ;  the  second,  sometimes  called 
Vai$eshika,  to  the  Ionic  ;  the  two  Mi'mansas,  of  which  the  second  is  often  distin- 
guished by  the  name  of  Vedanta,  to  the  Platonic  ;  the  first  Sankhya,  to  the  Italic  ; 
and  the  second  or  Patanjala,  to  the  Stoic  philosophy  :  so  that  Gautama  corresponds 
with  Aristotle  ;  Kanada,  with  Thales  ;  Jaimini,  with  Socrates;  Vyasa,  with  Plato  ; 
Kapila,  with  Pythagoras  ;  and  Patanjali,  with  Zeno.  But  an  accurate  comparison 
between  the  Grecian  and  Indian  schools  would  require  a  considerable  volume." 

f  In  Ueberweg's  Grundriss  der  Geschichte  der  Philosophic,  revised  and  edited  by 
Heinze,  sixth  edition,  I.  36,  I  am  happy  to  find  the  following  passage  :  "  With  much 
better  reason  we  could  suppose  a  considerable  Oriental  influence  in  the  form  of  a 
direct  communication  of  the  older  Grecian  philosophers  with  Oriental  nations."  But 
I  am  sorry  to  say,  I  cannot  concur  with  the  opinion  of  the  author,  expressed  on  the 
same  page,  that  a  perfect  and  decisive  solution  of  this  problem  might  be  expected 
from  the  progress  of  Oriental  studies.  For  even  the  closest  acquaintance  with  the 
Oriental  systems  and  religions  cannot  do  away  with  the  alternative,  before  men- 
tioned on  page  180  ;  and,  with  one  single  exception,  which  I  shall  presently  consider, 
the  means  for  fixing  the  limits  of  these  foreign  influences  upon  the  older  Grecian 
philosophy  are  utterly  wanting. 


I  82  THE  MONIST. 

Add  to  this  the  Greek  tradition  that  the  greater  part  of  the 
philosophers  with  whom  we  have  dealt,  Thales,  Empedocles,  Anax- 
agoras,  Democritus,  and  others,  undertook  journeys,  sometimes  of 
considerable  duration,  into  Oriental  countries  for  the  sake  of  making 
philosophical  studies,  and  the  probability  of  our  supposition  that 
these  Grecian  philosophers  acquired  Indian  ideas  on  Persian  ground 
will  be  increased.  But  it  cannot  be  denied  that,  if  they  really  did 
borrow  foreign  ideas,  they  well  understood  the  art  of  impressing  on 
them  the  stamp  of  the  Grecian  intellect. 

Hitherto,  I  have  purposely  omitted  a  name  which  is  much  more 
intimately  connected  with  this  question,  than  the  others  I  have  men- 
tioned. While,  for  the  derivation  of  Indian  ideas  in  the  case  of  the 
Grecian  physiologefs,  the  Eleatics  and  Epicurus,  I  could  only 
assume  a  certain  probability  in  favor  of  my  hypothesis,  there  seems 
to  be  no  doubt  about  the  dependence  of  Pythagoras  upon  Indian 
philosophy  and  science  ;  and  all  the  more  so,  as  the  Greeks  them- 
selves considered  his  doctrines  as  foreign.  It  was  Sir  William 
Jones  (Works,  8vo  ed.,  Ill,  236)*  who  first  pointed  out  the  analo- 
gies between  the  Sawkhya  system  and  the  Pythagorean  philosophy, 
starting  from  the  name  of  the  Indian  system,  which  is  derived  from 
the  word  samkhyd  "number,"  and  from  the  fundamental  importance 
attached  to  number  by  Pythagoras.  After  Jones,  Colebrooke  (Misc. 
Ess.,  2d  ed.,  I.  436,  437)  expressed  with  even  more  emphasis  the  idea 
that  the  doctrines  of  Pythagoras  might  be  rooted  in  India.  He  says  : 
"  .  .  .  .  Adverting  to  what  has  come  to  us  of  the  history  of  Pythagoras, 
I  shall  not  hesitate  to  acknowledge  an  inclination  to  consider  the 
Grecian  to  have  been  ....  indebted  to  Indian  instructors."  Cole- 
brooke gives  the  reasons  for  his  opinion  (1.  c.,  441  et  seq.)  in  the 
following  passage,  which  seems  to  me  to  be  sufficiently  important 
to  quote  in  full  : 

"It  may  be  here  remarked  by  the  way,  that  the  Pythagoreans,  and  Ocellus  in 
particular,  distinguish  as  parts  of  the  world,  the  heaven,  the  earth,  and  the  interval 
between  them,  which  they  term  lofty  and  aerial.  .  .  .  Here  we  have  precisely  the 
heaven,  earth,  and  (transpicuous)  intermediate  region  of  the  Hindus. 

*  See  Colebrooke,  Miscellaneous  Essays,  second  edition,  I.  241. 


THE  CONNEXION  BETWEEN  INDIAN   AND  GREEK  PHILOSOPHY.         183 

"Pythagoras,  as  after  him  Ocellus,  peoples  the  middle  or  aerial  region  with 
demons,  as  heaven  with  gods,  and  the  earth  with  men.  Here  again  they  agree  pre- 
cisely with  the  Hindus,  who  place  the  gods  above,  man  beneath,  and  spiritual  crea- 
tures, flitting  unseen,  in  the  intermediate  region. 

' '  Nobody  needs  to  be  reminded,  that  Pythagoras  and  his  successors  held  the 
doctrine  of  metempsychosis,  as  the  Hindus  universally  do  the  same  tenet  of  trans- 
migration of  souls. 

"They  agree  likewise  generally  in  distinguishing  the  sensitive,  material  organ 
(tnanas\  from  the  rational  and  conscious  living  soul  (jtvdttnan)  :  dv/Lioc;  and  (ppf/v  of 
Pythagoras  ;  one  perishing  with  the  body,  the  other  immortal. 

"Like  the  Hindus,  Pythagoras,  with  other  Greek  philosophers,  assigned  a 
subtle  etherial  clothing  to  the  soul  apart  from  the  corporeal  part,  and  a  grosser 
clothing  to  it  when  united  with  body  ;  the  sukshma  (or  lingo)  farira  and  sthula 
farira  of  the  Sankhyas  and  the  rest.  ...  I  should  be  disposed  to  conclude  that  the 
Indians  were  in  this  instance  teachers  rather  than  learners." 

Wilson  {Quarterly  Oriental  Magazine,  IV,  u,  12,  and  Sdnkhya 
Kdrikd,  p.  XI)  only  incidentally  touches  on  the  analogies  pointed 
out  by  Jones  and  Colebrooke. 

Barthelemy  Saint-Hilaire  goes  a  little  more  into  detail  regard- 
ing one  point.  He  treats,  in  his  "  Premier  Me"moire  sur  le  Sankhya  " 
(Paris,  1852,  pp.  512,  513,  521,  522),  of  Pythagoras's  theory  of 
metempsychosis,  and  he  is  right  in  observing  that  the  greater  prob- 
ability is  on  the  side  of  its  Indian  origin,  and  not  on  its  Egyptian 
one.  Further,  Barthelemy  finds  Sawkhya  ideas  in  Plato,  in  the 
"Phaedon,"  "Phaedrus,"  "Timaeus,"  and  in  the  "  Republic": 
"  Les  analogies  sont  assez  nombreuses  et  assez  profondes  pour  qu'il 
soit  impossible  de  les  regarder  comme  accidentelles"  (p.  514).  He 
points  out  that  the  ideas  of  redemption  and  bondage  are  doctrines 
both  of  Plato  and  of  the  Saswkhya  philosophy,  inasmuch  as  they 
denote  the  liberation  of  soul  from  matter  and  the  confinement  of 
soul  by  matter  ;  and  that  the  idea  of  metempsychosis  is  common  to 
both,  together  with  that  of  the  beginningless  and  endless  existence 
of  the  soul.  On  p.  521  Barthe'lemy  then  says  that  Plato,  the  great 
admirer  of  the  Pythagorean  school,  took  these  doctrines  from  Pytha- 
goras ;  but  if  we  ask  where  Pythagoras  obtained  them,  all  the  ap- 
pearances are,  in  his  opinion,  in  favor  of  India. 

The  supposition  that  Pythagoras  derived  his  theory  of  transmi- 


184  THE  MONIST. 

gration  from   India,  was  several  times  broached  in  older  works  be- 
sides.* 

In  a  much  more  exhaustive  and  comprehensive  manner,  but 
evidently  without  knowledge  of  his  predecessors,  Leopold  von  Schroe- 
der  has  also  treated  this  subject  in  an  essay  "Pythagoras  imd  die 
Inder"  (Leipsic,  1884),  which,  notwithstanding  the  contrary  opinion 
of  Professor  Weber,  f  seems  to  me  to  be  perfectly  correct  in  its 
main  points.  From  Schroeder's  theories  it  follows,  that  almost  all 
the  doctrines  ascribed  to  Pythagoras,  both  religio-philosophical  and 
mathematical,  were  current  in  India  as  early  as  the  sixth  century 
before  Christ,  and  even  previously.  As  the  most  important  of  these 
doctrines  appear  in  Pythagoras  without  connexion  or  explanatory 
background,  whilst  in  India  they  are  rendered  comprehensible  by  the 
intellectual  life  of  the  times,  Schroeder  conclusively  pronounces  In- 
dia to  be  the  birthplace  of  the  Pythagorean  ideas.  Of  course,  no 
power  of  conviction  would  rest  in  single  traits  of  agreement ; — and 
for  that  reason  I  did  not  venture  to  give  any  definite  opinion  with 
regard  to  the  dependence  of  the  other  philosophers  mentioned  on  In- 
dia ; — but  with  Pythagoras,  it  is  the  quantity  of  coincidences  that 
enforces  conviction  ;  and  the  more  so,  as  the  concordance  is  also  to 
be  noticed  in  insignificant  and  arbitrary  matters  which  cannot  well 
be  expected  to  appear  independently  in  two  different  places.  Here 
I  must  refer  to  Schroeder's  detailed  argumentation  and  can  only 
indicate  the  chief  features  which  Pythagoras  and  the  ancient  In- 
dians have  in  common  :  the  theory  of  the  transmigration  of  souls, 
in  which  there  is  harmony,  here  and  there  even  in  noticeable  details, 
and  which  Pythagoras  cannot  have  taken  from  Egypt  for  the  simple 
reason  that  modern  Egyptology  teaches  us,  that — in  spite  of  the 
well-known  passage  in  Herodotus — the  ancient  Egyptians  were  not 
familiar  with  the  doctrine  of  metempsychosis  ;  further,  the  curious 
prohibition  of  eating  beans,  the  rtpos  jj\iov  Terpam}A£vor  //;/ 


*  See  Lucian  Scherman,  Materialien  zur  GescJiichte  der  Indischen  Visionslitera- 
tur,  p.  26,  note  i. 

•j-  Literarisches  Centralblatt,  1884,  p.  1563-1565.  Compare  also  "Die  Griechen 
in  Indien,"  Sitzungsberichte  der  Kgl.  Preitssischen  Akademie  der  WissenscJiaften  zn 
Berlin,  XXXVII,  pp.  923-926. 


THE  CONNEXION  BETWEEN   INDIAN  AND  GREEK  PHILOSOPHY.         185 

the  doctrine  of  the  five  elements,  i.  e.  the  assumption  of  ether  as  the 
fifth  element,  which  obtains  in  the  Pythagorean  school  as  well  as 
everywhere  in  India  ;  above  all  the  so-called  Pythagorean  theorem, 
developed  in  the  Culvasutras  *;  the  irrational  number  |  2  ;  then  the 
whole  character  of  the  religio-philosophical  fraternity,  founded  by 
Pythagoras,  which  is  analogous  to  the  Indian  orders  of  the  time  ; 
and  at  last  the  mystical  speculation,  peculiar  to  the  Pythagorean 
school,  which  bears  a  striking  resemblance  to  the  fantastical  notions 
greatly  in  favor  with  the  so-called  Brahma;?a  literature. 

Schroeder  proceeds  with  a  few  more  analogies  of  lesser  value 
and  of  doubtful  nature,  and  finally  he  is  certainly  mistaken  in  the 
two  following  points.  Namely,  he  holds  that  Pythagoras  acquired 
his  knowledge  in  India  itself,  —  an  idea  excluded  at  once  by  reference 
to  the  history  of  ancient  traffic,  f  The  only  country  in  which  Pytha- 
goras could  possibly  have  met  his  Indian  teachers,  is  Persia,  to 
which  place  I  above  found  myself  obliged  to  ascribe  the  eventual 
mediation  between  Indian  ideas  and  the  Greek  physiologers  and 
Eleatics.  The  other  point  is  that  of  the  connexion  between  the  Pyth- 
agorean doctrine  and  the  Sawkhya  philosophy,  supposed  by  Schroe- 
der. It  may  be  that  Pythagoras  acquired  his  knowledge  of  the  the- 
ories of  metempsychosis  and  of  the  five  elements  from  adherents  of 
the  Sawkhya  system  ;  but  further  relations  are  not  to  be  discov- 
ered. SchroederJ  tries,  on  pp.  72-76,  to  bring  the  fundamental  idea 
of  the  Pythagorean  philosophy,  that  number  is  the  essence  of  all 
things,  into  connexion  with  a  fictitious,  older  form  of  the  Sa/wkhya 
philosophy.  He  says  p.  74  :  "To  me  it  appears  to  be  evident  from 
the  name  Sawkhya,  that  number  (samkliyct}  originally  had  a  deciding, 


*  Weber's  polemic  against  Schroeder's  treatise  is  chiefly  based  on  the  fact  that 
he  underestimates  the  age  of  the  (Culvasutras  which  describe  the  mensurations  of 
the  sacrificial  compound  that  led  to  the  discovery  of  the  renowned  tenet.  The 
Culvasutras  are  not  appendages  to  the  (^rautasutras,  but  integrant  parts  of  the  great 
ritual  complexes,  each  of  which  has  been  composed  by  one  author.  The  material, 
offered  to  us  in  the  (Culvasutras,  is  of  course  still  much  older  than  these  compen- 
diums  themselves. 

f  The  Grecian  tradition  of  Pythagoras  having  visited  India  did  not  arise  before 
the  Alexandrine  time. 

\  As  before  him  Sir  William  Jones  ;  comp.  p.  182  above. 


1 86  THE   MONIST. 

fundamental  importance  in  this  system,  although  the  later  system, 
the  books  of  which  appeared  more  than  a  thousand  years  after  the 
pre-Buddhistic  Sa;;/khya  doctrine  of  Kapila,  has  effaced  this  charac- 
teristic trait  and  entirely  lost  it."  In  stating  this,  Schroeder  has 
overlooked  the  fact  that  those  Upanishads  which  are  full  of  Sa;;/khya 
doctrines  and  which  must  be  dated  only  a  few  hundred  years  later 
than  Buddha,  are,  in  the  passages  in  question,  also  wanting  in  what 
he  calls  the  "original"  characteristic  trait,  and  that  they  are  in 
harmony  with  that  system  which  he  calls  the  "later  one."  He 
himself  declares  this  theory  to  be  a  very  bold  one,  but  in  reality  it 
is  perfectly  baseless.  There  is  not  the  smallest  particle  of  evidence 
for  the  hypothesis  that  there  ever  existed  a  Sawkhya  system  dif- 
ferent from  that  of  our  sources,  which  acquired  its  name  from  the 
mania  for  enumeration  peculiar  to  it.  On  the  contrary,  weighty 
reasons  speak  against  the  supposition  that  our  system  has  undergone 
noticeable  changes  in  the  course  of  time.  If  ever  we  should  try  to 
fabricate  some  historical  link  between  the  Sa/;/khya  system  and  the 
Pythagorean  numeral  philosophy,  the  following  idea  only  could 
occur  to  us.  The  doctrines  of  Pythagoras  :  Number  is  the  essence 
of  things,  the  elements  of  numbers  are  to  be  considered  as  the  ele- 
ments of  everything  existing,  the  whole  universe  is  harmony  and 
number — these  doctrines  are  unique  in  the  history  of  human  thought, 
and,  if  their  meaning  should  be  something  else  than  "everything  ex- 
isting is  ruled  by  the  mathematical  law,"  they  might  be  regarded  as 
unphilosophical.  It  therefore  does  not  appear  to  me  as  a  thing 
utterly  beyond  possibility,  that  those  ideas  took  root  in  a  misunder- 
standing of  Pythagoras.  It  is  possible  that  he  misinterpreted  the 
words  of  his  Indian  teacher  :  "The  Sa;;/khya  philosophy  is  named 
after  the  enumeration  of  the  material  principles  "  into  :  "  Number  is 
considered  the  essence  of  the  material  principles  in  the  Sawkhya  sys- 
tem." But  this  surely  is  nothing  but  a  supposition. 

It  is  Lassen  who  in  his  "  Indische  Alterthumskunde "  denies 
every  Indian  influence  upon  Grecian  philosophy  in  ante-Christian 
times,  but  adopts  it  (III.  p.  379  et  seq.)  for  the  Christian  Gnosti- 
cism and  Neo-Platonism.  As  lively  relations  between  Alexandria 
and  India  are  sufficiently  attested  for  this  time,  it  is  indeed  impos- 


THE  CONNEXION  BETWEEN  INDIAN  AND  GREEK  PHILOSOPHY.         187 

sible  to  doubt  Indian  influence  upon   the  doctrines  of  the  Gnostics 
and  Neo-Platonists. 

Let  us  first  dwell  upon  Gnosticism.  Lassen  holds  that  the 
Indian  elements  in  the  Gnostic  systems  were  derived  from  Buddhism 
which  (in  the  secondary,  modified  form  it  had  assumed  at  that  time) 
undoubtedly  exercised  a  considerable  influence  upon  the  intellec- 
tual life  of  Alexandria.  This  influence  is  most  clearly  perceptible 
in  the  ideas  formed  by  the  Gnostics  about  the  many  spiritual  worlds 
and  the  numerous  heavens.  These  ideas  are  certainly  derived  from 
the  fantastical  cosmogony  of  later  Buddhism.  But  I  do  not  admit  the 
great  importance  which  Lassen  attributes  to  Buddhism  in  the  forma- 
tion of  the  Gnostic  systems.  It  is  my  opinion  that,  in  Lassen's  expo- 
sitions the  Sa/;/khya  philosophy  does  not  get  all  that  is  due  to  it.  If 
we  keep  it  in  mind  that  the  centuries  in  which  Gnosticism  was  devel- 
oped—  that  is,  the  second  and  third  century  after  Christ — are  coinci- 
dent with  the  period  during  which  the  Sawkhya  philosophy  flourished 
in  India,  many  things  will  appear  in  a  different  light  to  us,  than  was 
the  case  with  Lassen.  *  On  p.  385  he  establishes  a  connexion  between 
the  doctrines  of  Buddhism  and  the  Gnostic  contrast  of  soul  and  mat- 
ter. But  is  it  not  more  natural  to  remember  here  the  ideas  which 
form  the  foundation  of  the  Sawkhya  philosophy  ?  Another  point 
with  which  we  have  to  deal  is  the  identification  of  soul  and  light, 
met  with  among  almost  all  Gnostics.  Lassen  has  brought  forward 
some  remote  and  singular  speculations  from  the  misty  and  imagina- 
tive realm  of  later  Buddhism,  to  make  plausible  the  Buddhistic  in- 
fluence upon  this  Gnostic  doctrine.  I  cannot  say  that  this  endeavor 
has  been  a  successful  one.  How  very  simple  and  natural  the  idea 
appears  with  which  a  mere  glance  at  the  Sawkhya  philosophy  fur- 
nishes us  !  For  there  we  are  taught  something  which  was  evidently 
not  known  to  Lassen,  viz.,  that  the  soul  is  light  {prakdca},^  which 

*  On  the  other  hand,  I  must  confess  that  I  am  unable  to  trace  that  resemblance 
between  the  Sawkhya  philosophy  and  the  doctrine  of  the  Valentinians  on  the  origin 
of  matter,  which  is  stated  by  Lassen  on  pp.  400,  401.  The  agreements  of  the  Sa;;/- 
khya  system  with  that  of  the  Ophites,  collected  by  Lassen  in  the  following  pages, 
likewise  appear  to  me  open  to  doubt. 

f  Comp.  Sdmkhyastttra,  I.  145:  "[Soul  is]  light,  because  the  non-intellectual 
and  light  do  not  belong  together,"  and  VI,  50  :  "Being  distinct  from  the  non-intel- 


I  88  THE  MONIST. 

means,  that  the  mechanical  processes  of  the  internal  organs  are  il- 
luminated or  made  conscious  by  the  soul.  This  idea  of  the  Saw- 
khyas,  that  soul  and  light  are  the  same,  or — to  put  it  otherwise — 
that  the  soul  consists  of  light,  we  undoubtedly  have  to  regard  as 
the  source  of  the  similar  idea  of  the  Gnostics. 

In  regard  to  another  point,  Lassen  (on  pp.  384,  398  et  seq.) 
has  rightly  acknowledged  the  influence  of  the  Sawkhya  philosophy 
upon  Gnosticism.  It  was  Ferd.  Chr.  Baur  who  even  before  him 
(in  his  work,  "Die  christliche  Gnosis,"  pp.  54,  158  et  seq.)  had 
noticed  the  remarkable  agreement  of  the  classification  of  men  into 
the  three  classes  of  nvsv^aTiHoi.,  fyv^iKoi  and  vXiuoi,  peculiar  to 
several  Gnostics,  with  the  Sa;;/khya  doctrine  of  the  three  Gu^/as. 
As  I  have  entered  in  detail  upon  this  theory  in  my  forthcoming 
book  on  the  Sawkhya  philosophy,  I  only  wish  to  state  here  that  in 
this  system  every  individual  is  considered  as  appertaining  to  the 
sphere  of  one  of  the  three  powers,  according  as  the  luminous,  se- 
rene, and  joyful,  or  the  passionate,  fickle,  and  painful,  or  again  the 
dark,  motionless,  and  dull  character  predominates.  There  is  also 
another  interesting  parallel  to  be  found.*  It  is  that  between  the 
Sawkhya  doctrine  according  to  which  the  Buddhi,  Aharakara,  and 
Manas,  i.  e.,  the  substrata  of  the  psychic  processes,  have  an  inde- 
pendent existence  during  the  first  stages  of  the  evolution  of  the 
universe,  and  the  Gnostic  tenet  which  allots  personal  existence  to 
intellect,  will,  and  so  on.  I  am  sure  that  those  who  are  better  ac- 
quainted with  the  Gnostic  systems  than  I  am,  would  be  successful  in 
finding  some  more  points  of  contact,  upon  studying  the  doctrines  of 
the  Sa/;zkhya  philosophy  in  detail. 

In  passing  to  Neo-Platonism,  we  find  that  here  also  Lassen  has 
valued  the  influence  of  the  Sa/x/khya  doctrines  to  its  full  extent. 
The  views  of  Plotinus  (204-269  A.  D.),  the  chief  of  the  Neo-Platon- 


lectual,  [soul]  which  has  the  nature  of  thought  illuminates  the  non-intellectual." 
The  commentator  Vijnanabhikshu  makes  the  following  remark  on  the  first  passage  : 
"  The  soul  is  in  its  essence  light  like  the  sun,"  etc. 

*  Mentioned  by  Fitz-Edward  Hall  in  his  translation  of  Nehemiah  Nilakantha 
S  astri  Gore's  A  Rational  Refutation  of  the  Hindu  PhilosopJiical  Systems,  Calcutta, 
1862,  p.  84. 


THE  CONNEXION  BETWEEN  INDIAN  AND  GREEK  PHILOSOPHY.         189 

ists,  are  in  part  in  perfect  agreement  with  those  of  the  Sawkhya  sys- 
tem. The  following  sentences  must  be  placed  here  :  the  soul  is 
free  from  sorrows  and  passions,  untouched  by  all  affections  ;  for  the 
sufferings  of  the  world  belong  to  matter.  By  his  philosophy  Plotinus 
promises  to  deliver  the  world  from  misery,  and  this  is  the  same  pur- 
pose as  that  of  the  Sawkhya  system  which  strives  to  lead  men  to  dis- 
criminative knowledge  and  with  it  to  redemption,  that  is  to  say,  to 
absolute  painlessness.  Though  all  Brahman  systems  have  made  it 
their  task  to  liberate  mankind  from  the  miseries  of  mundane  exis- 
tence by  means  of  some  special  knowledge,  yet  none  of  them  have 
so  much  emphasised  the  principle  of  this  life  being  a  life  full  of 
misery,  as  the  Sawkhya  system  ;  none  of  them  have  defined  the  word 
"redemption"  with  the  same  precision  as  "the  absolute  cessation 
of  pain." 

On  page  428  Lassen  establishes  a  connexion  between  a  Vedantic 
notion  and  the  sentence  of  Plotinus,  that  one  may  also  be  happy 
when  sleeping,  because  the  soul  does  not  sleep.  But  there  is  no  ne- 
cessity for  it.  The  same  doctrine  appertains  to  the  Sawkhya  system.  * 
Deep  dreamless  sleep  is  there,  too,  stated  to  be  homogeneous  with 
redemption,  insomuch  as  in  these  two  states  the  affections  and  func- 
tions of  the  inner  organs  have  stopped,  and  pain  with  them.  Consid- 
ering the  many  cases  in  which  the  dependence  of  Plotinus  upon  the 
Sawkhya  system  is  established,  we  need  not  hesitate  to  derive  this 
idea  from  the  Sawkhya  system  as  well.  These  numerous  agreements 
must,  however,  make  us  doubly  careful  not  to  expand  too  much  the 
limits  of  this  dependence  ;  and  for  that  reason  I  am  bound  to  say 
that  the  parallels  which  Lassen  has  drawn  (p.  418  et  seq.)  between 
the  theory  of  emanation,  set  up  by  Plotinus,  and  the  doctrine  of  de- 
velopment in  the  Sa;;/khya  system  appear  to  me  out  of  place  in  the 
series  of  coincidences  here  treated. 

Though  there  is  a  good  evidence  of  harmony  between  the  pure 
Sawkhya  doctrine  and  the  Neo-Platonism  of  Plotinus,  there  exists 
even  a  closer  connexion  between  the  latter  one  and  that  branch  of 
the  Sa;;/khya  philosophy  which  has  assumed  a  theistical  and  asceti- 

*  See  SdmkhyasMra,  V,  116. 


I  go  THE  MONIST. 

cal  character,  and  has,  under  the  name  of  the  Yoga  philosophy,  ac- 
quired an  independent  place  among  the  Brahman  systems.  The 
morality  of  Plotinus  is  altogether  of  an  ascetic  nature.  This  feature 
might  be  explained,  it  is  true,  by  an  inclination  towards  Stoicism ; 
but  on  account  of  its  agreement  with  the  Yoga  system  in  the  fol- 
lowing points,  this  ascetic  coloring  has,  most  probably,  its  founda- 
tion in  the  influence  of  this  system.  Plotinus  pronounces  all  worldly 
things  to  be  vain  and  void  of  value,  and  he  therefore  calls  upon  us 
to  throw  off  the  influence  of  the  phenomenal  world.  If  we  keep  off 
all  external  impressions  and  by  way  of  concentration  of  thinking 
overcome  the  multiplicity  of  ideas,  resulting  from  these  impressions, 
the  highest  knowledge  will  fill  our  mind,  in  the  form  of  a  sudden 
ecstatic  perception  of  God.  There  is  not  the  slightest  difference 
between  this  theory  and  the  doctrines  of  the  Yoga  philosophy.  The 
SKGraGts  of  Plotinus  or  the  ax\&ffiS  ("the  union  with  the  deity") 
is  the  pratibhd  or  the  prdtibham  jndnam  of  the  Yoga  system  ("the 
immediate,  universal  knowledge  of  truth,  which,  after  methodically 
exercising  the  ascetic  Yoga-praxis,  comes  upon  us  unexpectedly").* 
Besides  Plotinus,  we  principally  have  to  consider  his  most  dis- 
tinguished disciple  Porphyry  (from  232-304)^  who,  even  more  than 
his  master,  has  followed  the  Sawkhya  philosophy.  With  him  the 
Indian  influence  can  be  proved  directly ;  for  he  has  made  use  of  the 
treatise  of  Bardesanes,  from  which  he  copied  an  important  passage 
about  the  Brahmans.  And  Bardesanes  had  acquired  authentic  infor- 
mation about  India  from  the  Indian  ambassadors  who  were  sent  to 
the  Emperor  Antoninus  Pius.  In  all  principal  points,  Porphyry 
agrees  with  Plotinus,  as,  for  instance,  in  his  demand  to  give  up 
the  external  world  and  to  seek  truth  by  contemplation  ;  but  Por- 
phyry records  in  a  purer  way  than  his  master  the  Sawkhya  doctrine 
of  the  contrast  between  the  spiritual  and  the  material  world.  His 
dependency  upon  the  Sawkhya  philosophy  is  also  to  be  noticed  in 
his  doctrines  of  the  reign  of  the  spiritual  over  the  material,  of  the 
omnipresence  of  the  soul  when  liberated  from  matter,  and  of  the 


*See  Yogastitra,  III,  33. 

f  Comp.  Lassen,  p.  430  et  seq. 


THE  CONNEXION  BETWEEN  INDIAN  AND  GREEK  PHILOSOPH 

beginninglessness  of  the  world.*  Here  we  must  also  note  the  inter- 
diction to  kill  animals,  made  by  Porphyry,  and  his  rejection  of  sacri- 
fices. To  be  sure,  Lassen  says,  on  page  432,  that  Porphyry  here 
followed  the  Buddhistic  law;  but  as  we  are  dealing  with  things 
which  Buddha  adopted  from  the  Sa;;/khya  system,  f  there  is  no  rea- 
son why  we  should  not  derive  them  from  the  primary,  instead  of  the 
secondary,  source. 

I  think  we  need  not  enter  upon  the  resemblances  which  Lassen 
discovers  (p.  434  et  seq.)  between  Indian  ideas  and  the  later  Neo- 
Platonist  Abammon  (about  300);  for  this  fantastical  and  superstitious 
teacher,  and  the  ideas  peculiar  to  him,  do  not  offer  any  but  doubtful 
points  of  contact  with  Indian  models.  Only  one  opinion  of  Abammon 
comes  into  consideration,  and  that  even  was  already  suggested  by  his 
predecessors.  It  is  the  idea,  that  people  who  are  filled  with  a  holy 
enthusiasm  attain  miraculous  powers.  J  Here  we  clearly  perceive 
the  coincidence  with  the  conviction,  universal  in  India,  that  miracu- 
lous powers  are  to  be  acquired  by  the  methodical  exercise  of  the 
Yoga-praxis.  The  Yoga  philosophy  promises,  as  the  fruit  of  such 
exercise,  the  acquisition  of  the  faculty  of  making  one's  self  invisible, 
infinitely  large,  or  infinitely  light,  of  assuming  other  bodies,  of  chang- 
ing the  course  of  nature,  and  the  attainment  of  other  supernatural 
powers. 

I  cannot  take  leave  of  Neo-Platonism  without  mentioning  a 
highly  important  point  of  agreement  with  the  Indian  world  of  thought, 
which,  it  is  true,  neither  concerns  the  Sawkhya  philosophy  nor  Bud- 
dhism, but  which  nevertheless  impressively  supports  our  arguments, 
as  it  is  a  most  significant  link  in  the  series  of  Grecian  loans  from 
India.  In  a  little  essay  by  Professor  Weber,  "Vach  und  hoyos,  In- 
dische  Studien,"  Vol.  IX,  the  author,  with  great  caution — "without 
intending  in  the  least  to  settle  this  question  " — has  put  forward  the 
supposition  that  the  Indian  conception  of  the  vdch  (a  feminine  noun, 
meaning  voice,  speech,  word)  may  have  had  some  influence  upon  the 

*  This  last  point  is  not  mentioned  by  Lassen. 

f  Compare  the  preface  to  my  translation  of  Aniruddha's  Commentary  on  the 
Sawkhyasutras,  etc.,  Calcutta,  1892. 
\  See  Lassen,  p.  438. 


I  Q2  THE  MONIST. 

idea  of  the  XoyoS  which  appears  in  Neo-Platonism  and  passed  from 
there  into  the  Gospel  of  St.  John.  Weber  starts  from  the  hymn  Rig- 
veda  X,  125,  in  which  the  Vach  already  appears  as  an  active  power, 
and  he  refers  to  the  personification  of  the  "divine  Vach  "  or  language, 
as  the  vehicle  of  priestly  eloquence  and  wisdom.  He  then  traces  the 
development  of  this  idea  through  the  Brahma^a  literature,  where  the 
Vach  becomes  more  and  more  similar  to  the  hoyos  in  the  beginning 
of  the  Gospel  of  St.  John.  In  the  numerous  passages  quoted  by 
Weber,  the  Vach  appears  as  the  consort  of  Prajapati,  the  creator, 
"in  union  with  whom  and  by  whom  he  accomplishes  his  creation  ; 
yea,  the  Vach  is  even  ultimately  the  most  spiritual  begetter,  and  now 
and  then  she  is  placed  absolutely  at  the  beginning  of  all  things,  even 
above  the  personal  bearer  of  her  own  self."  Weber  concludes  this 
pithy  article  with  the  following  words:  "There  are  certainly  no 
difficulties  in  understanding  the  cosmogonical  position  of  the  Vach 
which  is  simply  to  be  conceived  as  the  culmination  of  glorifying 
priestly  meditation  and  knowledge,  while  the  same  position  of  the 
XoyoS,  on  the  other  hand,  appears  without  any  suggestion  as  to  its 
origin  or  development."  This  idea  of  Weber's  I  hold  to  be  an  ex- 
ceedingly happy  one,  and,  in  my  opinion,  it  deserves  another  name 
than  that  of  a  mere  supposition.  Only  I  may  be  allowed,  in  this 
connexion,  to  set  one  point  aright.  It  is  not  Neo-Platonism  in  which 
the  idea  of  the  Xoyos  first  appears,  but  it  is  derived  there  from  the 
doctrines  of  Philo,  which  to  a  great  extent  are  the  basis  of  Neo-Pla- 
tonism. Philo  again  adopted  the  XoyoS  doctrine  from  the  Stoics,  and 
they  took  it  from  Heraclitus,  to  whom  the  Xoyos  already  was  the  eter- 
nal law  of  the  course  of  the  world.  *  My  opinion,  mentioned  above,  of 
Heraclitus  being  influenced  by  Indian  thought,  meets,  accordingly, 
with  a  welcome  confirmation.  If  the  whole  theory  is  right — and  I 
think  it  is — the  derivation  of  the  Xoyos  theory  from  India  must  be 
put  more  than  five  hundred  years  earlier  than  would  appear  from 
Weber's  statement. 

Among  the  Indian  doctrines  which  we  believed  we  could  trace  in 


*  Compare  Max   Heinze,  Die  Lehre  vom  Logos  in  der  griechischen  PJiilosophie, 
Oldenburg,  1872. 


THE  CONNEXION  BETWEEN  INDIAN  AND  GREEK  PHILOSOPHY.         193 

Greek  philosophy,  those  of  the  Sawkhya  system  occupy  the  first  place; 
agreeably  to  their  character,  they  presented  the  smallest  difficulties, 
when  transplanted  to  a  foreign  ground  and  embodied  into  a  new 
world  of  thought.  This  influence  of  the  Sawkhya  and  Indian  phi- 
losophy in  general  upon  Occidental  philosophy  does  not  extend 
beyond  Neo-Platonism.  And — except  the  Buddhistic  coloring  of 
Schopenhauer's  and  Hartmann's  philosophy — even  in  our  modern 
time  we  cannot  notice  any  real  influence  exercised  by  Indian  ideas. 
Even  in  the  compendiums  of  the  general  history  of  philosophy 
the  Indian  systems  are  usually  entirely  omitted.  It  now  need  not 
be  proved,  that  this  is  a  mistake.  An  explanation  of  this  indifference 
may  be  found  in  the  fact  that  the  Indian  systems  became  known 
in  Europe  and  America  only  in  their  roughest  outlines  in  this  cen- 
tury, and  that — with  the  exception  of  Deussen's  excellent  description 
of  the  Vedanta  philosophy  (Leipsic,  1883) — they  have  not  been  laid 
open  to  study  by  detailed  works.  I  hope  to  contribute  a  little  to  fill 
up  this  gap  in  our  knowledge  of  Indian  philosophy,  by  my  exposi- 
tion of  the  Sawkhya  system  which  will  appear  in  a  few  months. 

I  have  confined  myself  here  to  seeking  out,  and  so  far  as  pos- 
sible, to  proving  the  historical  connexion  between  Indian  and  Greek 
philosophy.  But  to  follow  up  the  internal  relations  of  the  Indian 
doctrines  to  the  whole  Occidental  philosophy  and  to  trace  the  occa- 
sional agreements  in  detail,  that  would  have  been  a  task,  the  per- 
formance of  which  surpasses  the  limits  of  this  paper. 

RICHARD  GARBE 

KONIGSBERG,    PRUSSIA. 


A  MONISTIC  THEORY  OF  MIND. 

T  DO  not  understand  the  term  monistic  to  imply  a  single  process, 
•*•  but  only  a  single  principle.  While  mind  may  be  explained  as 
the  result  of  one  universal  law  there  are  several  ways  or  modes  in 
which  that  law  operates.  The  unitary  principle  through  which  mind 
has  been  brought  about  maybe  comprehended  under  the  general  term 
organisation,  but  there  are  two  very  distinct  modes  or  forms  of  organi- 
sation. One  of  these  is  the  organisation  of  molecules  to  secure  a 
greater  effect  from  their  combined  activities,  and  may  be  called  chem- 
ical organisation.  The  other  is  the  organisation  of  biological  units 
or  cells  into  living  organisms  of  higher  orders,  and  may  be  called 
biotic  organisation. 

CHEMICAL   ORGANISATION. 

If  the  existence  of  matter  be  admitted  it  is  scarcely  more  than  an 
observed  fact-that  all  matter  is  at  all  times  in  a  state  of  motion,  while 
the  law  of  the  conservation  of  energy  is  nothing  more  than  the  in- 
ductive proof  that  the  rate  of  motion  of  matter  is  fixed  and  unalter- 
able, so  that  all  attempts  to  constrain  it  merely  alter  the  mode  of  its 
manifestation.  Matter  is  only  known  by  its  effects  which  are  due  to 
its  motions,  and  all  differences  in  these  effects  are  the  result  of  such 
different  modes  of  its  motion,  due  in  turn  to  some  constraining  in- 
fluence. It  is  a  known  fact  that  under  certain  conditions,  such,  for 
example,  as  generally  prevail  on  the  earth,  this  power  of  matter  to 
make  itself  known  is  increased  in  a  great  variety  of  ways  through 
chemical  organisation.  This  takes  place  through  some  form  of  union 
among  its  elements,  concentrating  and  directing  their  activities  in 


A  MONISTIC  THEORY  OF  MIND.  195 

such  a  manner  as  to  render  them  effective  in  producing  results,  espe- 
cially in  appealing  to  the  senses  of  sentient  beings. 

The  products  of  such  unions  of  the  elements  of  matter  are  what 
are  known  as  substances,  and  the  modes  by  which  different  substances 
produce  effects  constitute  their  properties.  The  monistic  theory  of 
mind  contemplates  it  as  a  property  of  a  substance,  not  as  itself  a 
substance.  For  the  law  that  the  properties  of  substances  are  due  to 
their  molecular  constitution  holds  for  all  substances  whatever,  no 
matter  how  low  or  how  high  in  the  degree  of  organisation,  or  whether 
the  organisation  be  chiefly  chemical  or  largely  biotic.  It  holds  there- 
fore for  organised  beings,  and  the  properties  these  possess,  including 
life  and  sense,  are  as  much  due  to  the  way  in  which  the  material  ele- 
ments composing  them  are  combined  as  are  those  of  the  simplest 
mineral  substances.  The  phenomena  of  mind  stand  in  the  same  re- 
lation to  the  brain  and  nervous  system  that  all  other  phenomena 
stand  to  the  substances  that  manifest  them — in  a  word,  mind  is  a 
property  of  the  organised  body.  The  body,  organised  as  it  is,  with 
its  nervous  system  and  great  central  ganglion, manifests  the  properties 
which  it  possesses  by  virtue  of  its  constitution  in  precisely  the  same 
way  that  all  other  substances  manifest  the  properties  resulting  from 
their  inherent  constitution. 

If  we  exclude  the  universal  ether  all  known  substances  fall  under 
three  general  heads,  viz.,  chemical  elements,  inorganic  compounds, 
and  organic  compounds.  For  these  I  have,  on  a  former  occasion,* 
proposed  the  following  cosmical  definitions. 

"Chemical  Elements. — Substances  whose  molecules  are  composed 
either  of  those  of  other  chemical  elements  of  less  atomic  weight,  or 
of  such  as  are  too  low  to  be  capable  of  molar  aggregation,  and  there- 
fore imperceptible  to  sense ;  formed  during  the  progress  of  develop- 
ment of  star-systems  at  temperatures  higher  than  can  be  artificially 
produced,  and  hence  too  stable  to  be  artificially  dissociated. 

" Inorganic  Compounds. — Substances  whose  molecules  are  com- 
posed of  those  of  chemical  elements  or  of  other  inorganic  compounds 
of  lower  degrees  of  aggregation  ;  formed  in  the  later  stages  of  the 

*  Popular  Science  Monthly,  Vol.  XVIII,  New  York,  February,  1881,  p.  539. 


196  THE  MONIST. 

development  of  planets  at  high  but  artificially  producible  tempera- 
tures, and  therefore  capable  of  artificial  decomposition,  and  con- 
stituting the  greater  part  of  the  solid  crust  of  cooled-off  bodies,  their 
liquid,  and  a  portion  of  their  gaseous  envelope. 

" Organic  Compounds. — Substances  whose  highly  complex  and 
very  unstable  molecules  are  composed  of  those  of  chemical  elements, 
inorganic  compounds,  or  organic  compounds  of  lower  organisation; 
formed  on  the  cooled  surfaces  of  fully  developed  planets  at  life-sup- 
porting temperatures." 

Every  substance  differs  from  every  other  in  both  its  constitution 
and  its  properties,  and  no  chemist  doubts  that  the  properties  of  any 
substance  are  due  to  its  peculiar  nature  or  constitution.  That  is  to 
say,  the  molecular  constitution  of  a  substance  is  the  cause  of  the 
properties  it  manifests. 

Now  there  is  an  important  law,  to  which  I  long  ago  called  atten- 
tion,* governing  the  properties  of  substances.  According  to  this  law 
the  properties  of  substances  are  more  active  in  proportion  as  their  mole- 
cular constitution  is  more  complex.  In  our  limited  knowledge  of  what 
constitutes  degrees  of  activity  this  is  obvious  only  in  the  long  run 
and  many  apparent  exceptions  may  be  pointed  out.  The  properties 
of  the  simpler  chemical  elements  are  very  inert,  those  of  inorganic 
compounds  are  usually  much  less  so,  their  activities  increasing 
roughly  with  the  degree  of  composition,  and  when  the  organic  com- 
pounds^are  reached  we  find  that  many  of  them  have  very  active  prop- 
erties. The  law  holds  for  the  various  grades  of  organic  compounds 
as  we  pass  from*  the  less  to  the  more  complex.  The  vegetable  al- 
kaloids and  organic  bases  that  furnish  most  of  the  febrifuges,  nar- 
cotics, and  toxics,  such  as  quinine,  narcotine,  strychnine,  etc.,  are 
very  complex  substances  and  possess  relatively  large  molecules  into 
which  carbon,  hydrogen,  nitrogen,  and  oxygen  all  enter. 

Another  important  law  of  chemical  organisation  is  that  increase 
in  complexity  is  accompanied  by  decrease  in  stability.  It  is  now  generally 
believed  that  the  chief  distinction  between  what  are  called  the  chem- 


*  "  The  Organic  Compounds  in  their  Relations  to  Life."    American  Naturalist, 
Vol.  XVI,  Philadelphia,  December,  1882,  pp.  968-979. 


A  MONISTIC  THEORY  OF  MIND.  1 97 

ical  elements,  which  were  once  supposed  to  be  the  ultimate  units  of 
matter,  and  the  inorganic  compounds,  is  that  the  former  are  so  much 
more  stable  that  it  has  been  found  impossible,  by  any  means  thus 
far  devised,  to  separate  them  into  any  simpler  components.  Again, 
the  distinction  between  organic  and  inorganic  compounds  has  broken 
down  all  along  the  line  through  the  artificial  production  of  so  many 
of  the  latter,  formerly  supposed  to  be  formed  only  in  the  alembic  of 
organic  life.  But  it  is  here  that  we  find  the  greatest  instability. 

Not  only  is  it  difficult  to  judge  of  degrees  of  activity  among  the 
properties  of  substances,  but  it  is  certain  that  these  differ  widely  in 
kind.  The  power  to  affect  the  senses  and  living  tissues  with  greater 
or  less  violence  is  only  one  of  the  ways  in  which  the  properties  of 
substances  manifest  themselves.  There  are  other  ways  in  which 
bodies,  though  wanting  in  this  class  of  qualities,  nevertheless  give 
evidence  of  possessing  much  higher  degrees  of  organisation.  When 
we  rise  above  the  organic  bases  in  the  degree  of  chemical  complex- 
ity, we  encounter  a  group  of  which  the  molecules  are  relatively 
enormous,  so  large  and  complex,  indeed,  that  it  often  becomes  im- 
possible to  write  their  chemical  formulas  with  any  degree  of  cer- 
tainty. These  are  the  albuminous*  compounds,  and  albumen  itself 
has  been  estimated  to  contain  no  less  than  679  equivalents,  which, 
reduced  to  the  standard  of  the  hydrogen  atom,  would  make  each  mole- 
cule contain  4870  of  these  smallest-known  chemical  units.  And  now, 
agreeably  to  the  law  stated,  we  find  that  the  substances  of  this  group 
are  characterised  by  correspondingly  great  instability.  As  a  conse- 
quence of  their  exalted  structure  their  molecular  activities  are  far 
more  extensive  and  varied  than  those  of  simpler  bodies.  One  of  the 
principal  modes  in  which  they  manifest  their  activities  is  that  which 
is  called  isomerism,  whereby  a  substance,  without  any  change  in  the 
nature  or  number  of  its  molecules,  but  by  some  little-understood 
rearrangement  of  them,  assumes  a  different  aspect  and  becomes  to 
all  intents  and  purposes  another  substance. 

There  is  still  another  important  principle  of  chemical  organisa- 
tion which  greatly  aids  us  in  comprehending  these  phenomena.  It 
may  be  called  the  law  of  rtcompounding.  It  consists  simply  in  using 
the  simpler  compounds  in  the  formation  of  the  more  complex  ones. 


ig8  THE   MONIST. 

That  is,  these  are  not,  or  at  least  not  necessarily,  first  decomposed 
into  their  simpler  elements  and  afterwards  combined  to  form  the 
higher  unit,  but  the  units  of  lower  orders  enter  bodily  into  the  com- 
position of  the  molecules  of  the  higher  ones.  Without  delaying  to 
give  examples  at  the  earlier  stages  of  development,  we  may  pass  at 
once  to  the  albuminous  compounds  and  suppose  that  albumen,  with 
molecules  five  thousand  times  as  large  as  those  of  hydrogen,  is  a 
compound  of  various  forms  of  proteine,  whose  molecules  are  some 
four  hundred  times  as  large  as  the  hydrogen  atom,  and  that  these 
proteine  molecules  remain  undecomposed  and  combine  to  give  to 
albumen  the  properties  it  possesses.  In  this  way  the  progress  in 
organisation  gained  in  the  development  of  the  proteine  molecule  is 
not  lost,  but  remains  in  full  force  as  a  factor  in  the  properties  of  al- 
bumen. But  we  have  reason  to  believe  that  from  the  hydrogen 
atom  to  the  molecule  of  albumen  the  process  of  evolution  has  been 
uniformly  the  same,  viz.,  that  of  compounding  and  recompounding, 
of  doubly  and  multiply  compounding  ;  in  short,  it  has  been  the  pro- 
cess of  molecular  aggregation. 

With  still  higher  states  of  aggregation,  therefore,  we  should 
naturally  expect  still  higher  foYms  of  activity,  still  more  marked 
properties.  What  properties  ought  we  to  expect  in  a  substance 
formed  by  the  recompounding  of  the  albuminoids?  No  one  could 
predict  their  nature.  While  it  is  safe  to  predict  higher  properties 
from  higher  degrees  of  aggregation,  there  is  no  basis  whatever  upon 
which  to  predict  the  character  of  these  properties.  We  cannot  even 
say  which  of  the  three  states  of  matter,  the  gaseous,  the  liquid,  or 
the  solid,  the  new  compound  will  exhibit  at  ordinary  temperatures. 
The  invincible  solid,  carbon,  when  joined  with  oxygen,  becomes  a 
gas  ;  the  type  of  gases,  hydrogen,  when  combined  with  another  gas, 
oxygen,  results  in  water,  which  is  a  solid  at  32°  Fahr. ;  the  inert  gas, 
chlorine,  combined  with  the  equally  inert  liquid,  mercury,  forms 
corrosive  sublimate,  which  has  very  active  properties  and  in  no  way 
resembles  either  of  its  components.  And  so  we  might  go  through 
the  entire  list.  The  general  truth  is  that  chemical  union  results  in  a 
new  substance  with  new  properties,  different  from  and  of  a  higher 
order  than  those  of  any  that  have  united  to  produce  it. 


A  MONISTIC  THEORY  OF  MIND.  1 99 

When,  therefore,  the  highest  known  chemical  compounds  still 
further  combine,  we  ought  to  look  for  something  new  and  important. 
When  the  largest  molecules  whose  constitution  can  be  determined 
in  the  laboratory  form  themselves  into  higher  molecular  systems,  we 
should  not  be  surprised  if  the  resultant  substance  should  be  an  ex- 
ceedingly remarkable  one.  The  activities  of  all  substances  up  to 
this  point  are  molecular,  but  it  might  well  be  that  the  new  com- 
pound should  possess  molar  activities.  At  all  antecedent  stages  of 
chemical  organisation  the  spontaneous  activity  is  confined  to  mole- 
cules ;  at  this  new  and  higher  stage  these  spontaneous  activities 
may  be  able  to  break  over  these  bounds  and  manifest  themselves  in 
the  mass. 

Now  we  have  a  substance — its  name  is  protoplasm — suspected 
of  having  the  origin  indicated,  which  is  capable  of  such  spontaneous 
movement  as  a  mass.  This  wonderful  property,  confined  exclusively 
to  this  substance,  has  been  given  the  briefer  name  motility.  This 
astonishing  substance,  protoplasm,  whose  existence  was  not  sus- 
pected at  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century,  is  now  known  to 
be  an  abundant  product  of  nature,  to  be  present  in  every  living 
thing  and  in  every  part  of  all  organic  beings,  if  such  part  is  really 
alive.  It  is  this  which  makes  it  alive.  Professor  Huxley  has  hap- 
pily called  it  "the  physical  basis  of  life."  Not  animals  alone,  but 
plants  as  well,  have  protoplasm  in  every  living  cell,  and  it  is  as 
active  in  the  one  as  in  the  other. 

But  bound  up  with  this  principle  of  life,  and  almost  as  a  part  of 
it,  protoplasm  possesses  another,  and,  if  possible,  still  higher  prop- 
erty. This  property  may  be  fittingly  called  awareness.  The  activi- 
ties of  protoplasm  are  not  sporadic  and  meaningless,  but  systematic 
and  purposeful.  Protoplasmic  bodies  recognise  differences  in  their 
environment.  As  Major  Powell,  in  his  new  psychologic  terminology, 
would  probably  say,  they  have  a  "knowledge  of  good  and  evil." 
In  a  word,  they  feel.  The  misnamed  "pseudopodia,"  which  they 
send  out  are  really  improvised  antennae  or  "feelers,"  which  they 
employ  in  exploring  their  surroundings.  Protoplasm  is  therefore 
not  merely  the  physical  basis  of  life,  it  is  the  physical  basis  of  mind 
as  well,  and  all  nerve  tissue  that  is  essentially  such  consists  of  pro- 


200  THE  MONIST. 

toplasm  in  some  of  its  myriad  forms.  From  the  strictly  material 
side,  protoplasm  is  the  essential  thing  in  life,  and  it  is  also  the  es- 
sential thing  in  mind.  There  is  no  other  element  controlling  either 
vital  or  psychic  phenomena.  When  this  stage  of  chemical  organi- 
sation was  reached,  evolution  ceased  along  this  line.  The  new  line 
of  subsequent  development  has  been  that  of  biotic  organisation,  and 
plants  and  animals  may  be  regarded  simply  as  mechanisms  for  the 
concentration,  focalisation,  and  intensification  of  the  inherent  powers 
and  properties  of  protoplasm. 

BIOTIC    ORGANISATION. 

Molecular  aggregation  or  chemical  organisation  could  not  in 
the  nature  of  things  go  farther  than  the  production  of  protoplasm. 
This  substance  already  oversteps  the  limits  of  molecular  activity  and 
trenches  on  the  domain  of  molar  motion.  If  matter  is  to  produce 
any  wider  effects  it  must  be  through  the  organisation  of  protoplas- 
mic bodies.  Biology  teaches  us  how  it  does  this.  The  biological 
unit  is  the  cell  whose  activities  are  determined  by  the  protoplasm  it 
contains.  There  are  organisms  consisting  of  a  single  cell — unicellu- 
lar organisms.  Then,  as  a  first  step,  a  group  or  company  of  these 
become  feebly  bound  together  so  that  nutrition  passes  from  the  one 
to  the  other.  Such  a  group  is  called  a  ccenobium.  These  exhibit 
various  gradations,  and  at  length  there  are  formed  permanent  colo- 
nies, such  as  polyps  and  sponges  exhibit.  Plants  may  be  placed  in 
this  class,  a  tree  consisting  of  a  vast  assemblage  of  permanently 
associated  individuals.  By  an  indefinite  number  of  further  steps 
this  process  of  integration  is  carried  up  until  the  true  Metazoa  are 
reached. 

But,  as  we  saw  that  even  protoplasm  acquired  the  quality  of 
awareness,  so  the  organised  states  of  protoplasm  acquired  corre- 
spondingly increased  degrees  of  this  sentient  property,  and  part 
passu  with  the  development  of  life,  there  went  on  a  development  of 
mind.  To  this  end  a  nervous  system  was  acquired  by  all  the  higher 
animals,  and  from  a  series  of  coordinate  ganglia  with  feeble  con- 
nexions there  grew  up  a  supreme  ganglion  with  all  the  subordinate 
ganglia  completely  under  its  control.  And  with  still  higher  organi- 


A  MONISTIC  THEORY  OF  MIND. 


201 


sation  there  took  place  a  process  of  cephalisation,  whereby,  with 
increase  of  brain,  there  was  constant  increase  in  the  mind-element 


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or  psychic  property.      When  at  length  mammalian  life  was  reached 
a  highly  developed  brain  had  been  evolved. 


202        .  THE  MONIST. 

Progress  in  the  discovery  of  the  true  nature  of  the  brain  and 
nervous  system  has  been  very  slow  and  is  almost  exclusively  con- 
fined to  the  last  half  of  the  present  century.  This  was  chiefly  due 
to  the  want  of  effective  methods  of  study.  As  such  methods  were 
gradually  invented  and  introduced  by  Stilling,  Deiters,  Remak, 
Clarke,  Miiller,  Gerlach,  Waldeyer,  Schulze,  Golgi,  and  others, 
fresh  light  was  thrown  upon  the  whole  subject,  but  it  is  only  within 
the  last  few  years  and  chiefly  through  the  labors  of  His,  Lenhossek, 
Obersteiner,  Gehuchten,  and  Ramon  y  Cajal  that  those  important 
advances  have  been  made  which  place  it  upon  a  firm  scientific  foot- 
ing. To  Dr.  Frank  Baker,  Curator  of  Comparative  Anatomy  in  the 
United  States  National  Museum  and  Manager  of  the  National  Zo- 
ological Park,  is  due  the  great  credit  of  having  laid  before  the  read- 
ers of  English  an.  able  and  exhaustive  review  of  the  history  of  this 
important  field  of  investigation.  This  paper,  which  cannot  be  too 
highly  commended  and  which  all  should  read,  appeared  in  the  New 
York  Medical  Journal for  June  17  and  24,  1893.  The  accompanying 
figure  (Fig.  i),  which  Dr.  Baker  has  reproduced  with  slight  modifi- 
cations from  an  important  memoir  by  Ramon  y  Cajal,*  exhibits  a 
section  through  the  cortex  of  the  cerebrum,  regarded  by  most  physi- 
ologists as  the  principal  organ  of  consciousness  and  of  mind  in  gen- 
eral. The  little  knots  with  irregularly  radiating  fibres  proceeding 
from  them  in  various  directions,  are  the  corpuscles  of  the  brain,  or 
brain-cells,  which  are  scattered,  not  wholly  without  order,  through 
the  general  mass  from  the  surface  of  the  convolutions  above  to  the 
white  matter  below.  The  existence  of  these  cells  has  long  been 
known,  but  the  nature  of  the  thread-like  processes  which  proceed 
from  them  has  only  recently  been  discovered.  Not  being  an  anato- 
mist myself,  and  yet  wishing  to  be  altogether  correct  on  such  an 
important  point,  I  shall  here  make  use  of  Dr.  Baker's  own  lan- 
guage :  f 


*  Sur  la  Structure  de  P  Ecorce  Cerebrale  de  quelques  Mammiferes^  par  S.  Ramon 
y  Cajal.      La  Cellule,  Vol.  VII,  Bruxelles,  1893,  pp.  123-176,  3  plates  ;  pi.  ii,  fig.  7. 

f  See  the  article   mentioned   above,   New  York  Medical  Journal,  Vol,   LVII, 
June  24,  1893,  p.  685. 


A  MONISTIC  THEORY  OF  MIND.  203 

"  It  has  long  been  known  that  a  considerable  portion  of  the  cortex  is  occupied 
by  large  cells  of  a  triangular  outline,  presenting  a  pointed  extremity  toward  the 
exterior.  These,  the  pyramidal  cells  of  authors,  are  of  great  size  in  the  so-called 
motor  regions  of  the  cortex — that  is  to  say,  in  the  central  convolutions.  .  .  .  These 
structures  have  wide-reaching  connexions,  and  Ramon  y  Cajal  and  Van  Gehuchten 
have  much  extended  our  knowledge.  ...  It  has  been  noted  that  there  appears  to  be 
a  direct  proportion  between  the  size  of  a  nerve  cell  and  the  number  and  length  of 
its  processes.  This  is  justified  in  the  present  instance,  for  there  proceed  from 
these  cells  highly  complicated  processes,  some  of  them  of  great  length.  From  the 
apex  of  the  cell  a  protoplasmic  stem  passes  up  through  the  superficial  layers  of  the 
cortex  and  terminates  in  an  arched  arborescent  panicle,  each  composed  of  plume- 
like  expansions  barbed  with  secondary  spines.  These  panicles  interlace  with  each 
other  throughout  the  superficial  layer  of  the  cortex  in  the  most  intricate  manner, 
forming  a  perfect  forest  of  branches  which,  however,  never  anastomose  with  each 
other.  .  .  .  Besides  the  extraordinary  appearance  and  peculiar  situation  of  these 
cells  there  are  reasons  drawn  from  embryology  and  from  comparative  anatomy  that 
indicate  the  probability  that  they  are  the  chief  agents  in  the  psychic  activity  of  the 
cortex.  As  we  ascend  the  scale  from  the  lower  vertebrates  to  man,  an  increasing 
complexity  of  structure  is  found  in  these  cells,  and  there  is  also  seen  a  similar  pro- 
gressive development  when  the  different  stages  of  their  growth  in  the  embryo  are 
observed.  Ramon  y  Cajal  has  therefore  given  to  these  structures  the  name  of 
psychic  cells."  * 

As  Dr.  Baker  intimates,  the  Spanish  investigator  lays  it  down 
as  a  general  principle  that  the  farther  back  we  go  in  the  ontogeny 
of  the  brain  of  mammals,  that  is,  the  younger  the  specimen  is  that 
is  being  studied,  the  fewer  and  shorter  become  the  protoplasmic  ex- 
pansions, and  that  the  same  is  true  of  their  phylogeny,  that  is,  as 
we  descend  in  the  scale  of  organisation.  The  following  additional 
figure  (Fig.  2)from  the  same  sources  will  make  this  clear : 

It  is  probable  that  the  failure  to  make  these  important  discov- 
eries before  is  largely  due  to  the  fact  that  early  investigators  confined 
their  attention  chiefly  to  the  brain  of  man  or  of  the  most  highly  de- 

*  "Tal  es  la  disposicion  de  la  celula  piramidal  de  los  mamiferos,  de  la  que  po- 
driamos  llamar,  invocando  su  especial  morfologi'a  y  su  exclusive  yacimiento  en  la 
corteza  cerebral,  siibstractntn  de  los  mas  elevados  actividades  nerviosas,  celula 
psiquica." — Nuevo  Concepto  de  la  Histologia  de  los  Centres  Nerviosos.  Por  el  Dr. 
D.  Santiago  Ramon  y  Cajal.  Conferencias  pronunciadas  en  la  Academia  y  Labora- 
torio  de  Ciencias  Medicas  de  Cataluna  en  los  dias  14,  18,  y  19  de  Marzo  de  1892. 
Publicadas  en  la  Revista  de  Ciencias  Mddicas  de  Barcelona,  nums.  16,  20,  22,  y  23, 
de  1892.  Tomo  XVIII,  Barcelona,  1893,  p.  27. 


204 


THE  MONIST. 


veloped  animals  and  these  at  adult  stages,  in  which  the  processes 
were  much  too  long  to  be  either  successfully  traced  to  their  ultimate 
terminations  or  brought  within  the  field  of  the  microscope.  And  I 
may  say  that  Fig.  i  represents  a  portion  of  the  brain  of  a  mouse  at 
the  age  of  one  month.  If  it  requires  such  a  complicated  brain  struc- 
ture to  conduct  the  simple  psychic  activities  of  so  humble  a  crea- 
ture, what  must  be  the  structure  required  to  conduct  the  psychic 
activities  of  a  Newton  or  a  Spencer  ! 


Fig.  2. — Phylogeny  and  ontogeny  of  the  psychic  cells  (Ram6n  y  Cajal).  The  upper  series  of 
cells  shows  the  psychic  cells  shows  the  psychic  cell  in  different  vertebrates.  A.  Frog.  B.  Newt. 
C.  Mouse.  D.  Man.  The  lower  series  shows  the  stages  of  growth  that  a  single  cell  passes  through. 
a,  neuroblast  with  axis-cylinder  process  just  commencing;  b,  panicle  commencing;  c,  panicle 
and  axis-cylinder  process  more  advanced  ;  d,  collaterals  of  axis-cylinder  appearing ;  e,  collaterals 
of  the  cell  body  appearing. 

Says  Ramon  y  Cajal : 

"  As  a  final  synthesis  it  may  be  affirmed  that  the  human  brain  owes  in  great 
part  the  superiority  of  its  activity,  not  only  to  the  considerable  number  of  its  ele- 
ments, but  especially  to  the  extraordinary  richness  of  its  means  of  association,  that 
is,  to  the  collateral  branches  of  the  axis-cylinders,  the  protoplasmic  ramifications 

etc."  * 

It  will  thus  be  perceived  that  in  all  this  we  are  dealing  alto- 
gether and  essentially  with  protoplasm   and  the  mechanical  means 


*  La  Cellule,  Vol.  VII,  Bruxelles,  1893,  p.  172. 


A  MONISTIC  THEORY  OF  MIND.  2O5 

of  enabling  it  to  do  the  maximum  work.  Pyramidal  cells,  ascending 
processes,  plumose  panicles,  axis-cylinders,  and  collaterals,  all  con- 
sist chiefly  or  wholly  of  protoplasm.  Just  as  the  essential  thing  in 
life  is  spontaneous  movement,  or  motility,  so  the  essential  thing  in 
mind  is  conscious  sensibility,  or  awareness.  These  are  the  proper- 
ties that  distinguish  protoplasm  from  all  other  substances,  and  upon 
these  as  foundations  the  body  and  mind,  respectively,  of  all  living 
things,  including  man,  have  been  built  up  by  the  organising  powers 
of  nature. 

COROLLARIES. 

Two  important  corollaries  flow  from  this  monistic,  and,  as  I 
must  claim,  only  scientific  theory  of  mind  : 

i.  Conceived  as  a  property,  mind  can  present  no  greater  "  mys- 
tery "  than  that  which  is  presented  by  any  other  property.  If  sensi- 
bility is,  as  it  seems  to  be,  only  the  necessary  correlate  or  obverse 
side  of  motility,  then  the  chief  distinction  between  sentient  and  non- 
sentient  bodies  is  that  the  activities  of  the  former  are  partly  molar 
instead  of  wholly  molecular.  No  one  can  logically  argue  that  spon- 
taneous molar  motion  is  essentially  more  mysterious  than  spon- 
taneous molecular  motion,  yet  no  physicist  or  chemist  any  longer 
doubts  that  every  atom  and  molecule  of  every  substance,  whether 
solid,  liquid,  gaseous,  or  ethereal,  is  in  a  state  of  ceaseless  activity 
from  an  inherent  motion  of  its  own.  This,  however,  though  a  known 
fact,  is  not  regarded  as  a  mystery.  If  the  progress  of  development 
has  been  anything  analogous  to  what  I  have  outlined,  if  mind  is  a 
property  of  organised  protoplasm,  or  if  any  such  relation  subsists 
between  body  and  mind  as  subsists  between  other  substances  and 
their  properties,  then  the  question  at  once  arises  :  Why  not  locate  the 
"mystery"  farther  down  in  the  scale,  and  cease  to  confine  it  to  this 
one  highest  stage  ?  For  we  are  obliged  to  confess  that  the  simplest 
qualities  of  matter  are  utterly  inexplicable.  We  know  just  as  much 
about  why  nerves  feel  and  brain  thinks  as  we  do  about  why  sugar  is 
sweet  or  lead  heavy.  Even  the  simplest  of  all  physical  phenomena, 
those  of  gravitation,  are  utterly  unknown  to  man  except  as  observed 
facts  and  formulated  laws.  He  is  still  as  ignorant  of  why  an  apple 


2O6  THE  MONIST. 

falls  to  the  ground  as  he  is  of  why  and  how  he  is  able  to  see  it  do 
so.  The  attitude  of  awe  and  wonder  before  any  of  the  phenomena 
of  nature  belongs  to  the  childhood  of  the  intellect  and  will  be  out- 
grown with  its  growth. 

2.  If  mind  is  a  property  of  body  it  is  as  inseparable  from  it  as 
other  properties  are  from  the  substances  that  possess  them.  It  has  no 
independent  existence.  In  and  of  itself  it  is  nothing.  Like  all  at- 
tributes, it  belongs  to  the  category  of  relations,  not  to  that  of  es- 
sences. The  supreme  fallacy  of  all  philosophy  has  been  that  of 
treating  mind  as  an  entity. 

It  is,  to  say  the  least,  curious,  that  it  should  fall  to  science  to 
defend  the  immateriality  of  mind.  It  is  still  more  paradoxical  that 
it  is  this  Relational  view  of  mind  that  is  popularly  looked  upon  as 
materialistic.  If  to  posit  a  material  basis  for  the  phenomena  of  mind 
be  materialism  it  were  useless  to  attempt  to  evade  the  charge.  But 
if  the  term  materialism  be  employed  in  its  only  proper  and  legiti- 
mate sense  as  postulating  the  material  nature  of  mind  itself,  the 
scientific  conception  of  mind  is  the  farthest  remove  possible  from  a 
materialistic  conception.  The  antithesis  between  matter  and  prop- 
erty is  absolute.  Mere  attributes  are,  in  the  clearest  sense  of  the 
word,  immaterial,  and  mind  is  simply  an  attribute.  It  would  be  as 
reasonable  to  insist  that  love,  honesty,  virtue,  and  liberty  were  ma- 
terial things  as  to  say  that  feeling  and  thought  are  such. 

If,  on  the  other  hand,  we  glance  at  the  theory  of  mind  that 
stands  opposed  to  the  scientific  view,  it  is  difficult  to  see  how  the 
charge  of  materialism  can  be  escaped.  If  there  is  an  element,  call 
it  mind,  thought,  soul,  spirit,  or  'what  not,  that  can  detach  itself 
from  the  personality  to  which  it  normally  belongs,  and  pass  into  an- 
other body,  or  remain  in  space  performing  mechanical  operations 
upon  material  objects,  it  matters  not  whether  it  be  visible  or  invis- 
ible, or  whether  it  can  appeal  in  any  way  directly  to  sense  or  not, 
such  a  thing  possesses  the  nature  of  a  material  body,  as  much  so  as 
the  invisible  atmosphere,  the  rarer  gases,  or  the  vastly  more  tenuous 
ether  that  vibrates  to  so  great  purpose  against  the  retina  of  the  eye. 
Turn  it  as  you  will,  twist  it  as  you  may,  matter  can  only  be  affected 
by  matter,  and  the  impact  of  moving  matter  against  other  matter  is, 


A   MONISTIC  THEORY  OF  MIND.  2OJ 

in  the  last  analysis,  the  essence  of  force.  And  this  is  true  of  the 
method  which  mind  itself  employs.  Thought  and  feeling,  in  and  of 
themselves,  are  powerless,  nay,  they  are  nil.  They  can  only  act 
through  a  motor  system  which  uniformly  and  necessarily  accom- 
panies the  sensor  system,  which  transfers  molecular  nerve-vibrations 
to  the  muscles,  transforms  them  into  muscular  movements,  and  com- 
municates them  mechanically  to  the  world  without.  It  is  this  that 
we  mean  by  the  term  expression,  whether  it  be  of  emotions  or  of 
ideas. 

This  view  of  mind  has  all  the  promise  of  a  true  science.  Mind 
is  a  great  power  in  the  world.  It  has  wrought  mighty  changes  in 
the  past  and  is  destined  to  work  still  mightier  ones  in  the  future. 
An  experimental  psychology  will  place  the  laws  of  mind  more  and 
more  within  the  grasp  of  man,  even  as  experimental  physics  and 
chemistry  have  placed  the  laws  of  matter  within  his  power.  The 
opposite  or  ontological  view,  which  I  have  shown  to  be  essentially 
materialistic,  merely  represents  the  alchemy  of  mind.  The  self- 
styled  ''psychical  researchers  "  are  simply  searching  for  the  phi- 
losopher's stone.  The  same  class  have  always  been  seeking  it,  and 
until  late  in  the  present  century  the  whole  domain  of  mind  was  in 
the  pre-Baconian  and  mediaeval  stage.  The  baser  metals  of  mind 
will  be  transformed  into  gold  by  the  new  science  of  psychology  in 
the  same  way  that  those  of  matter  were  transformed  by  chemistry, 
and  if  the  race  of  psychic  alchemists,  who  imagine  that  gold  alone 
has  value,  are  disappointed  with  the  result,  the  rest  of  the  world 
will  rejoice  as  it  always  rejoices  when  science  triumphs  over  magic. 

LESTER  F.  WARD. 
WASHINGTON,  D.  C. 


THE  UNITY  OF  THOUGHT  AND  THING. 

"Philosophy  tells  us  that  the  world  is  a  picture  which  we  ourselves  make. 
There  is  nothing  in  the  world,  [including  that  object  itself,]  which  we  do  not  put 
there.  Our  whole  life,  then,  is  one  creative  process." 

The  above  affirmation  of  monism  and  denial  of  dual  subject  and 
object  is  taken  from  T.  Bailey  Saunders's,  M.  A.  (Oxon.},  profound 
article  on  the  "Origin  of  Reason,"  in  No.  160  of  The  Open  Court* 
It  seems  completely  to  bear  out  the  scientific  veridity  of  my  title,  and 
of  Hylo-idealism,  that  on  the  apparitional,  phenomenal,  or  relative 
theory  of  the  universe,  to  which  we  have  alone  access,  self  is  to  self, 
further  than  which  research  is  vain,  the  Be  all  and  End  all  of  sentient 
existence.  Hence  religion  is  seen  to  have  run  its  baneful  course  and 
to  be  superseded  by  reason,  on  which  Mr.  Saunders  so  lucidly  dis- 
courses. For  if  self  be  all  in  all  there  can  be  no  room,  in  such  a 
pleroma,  for  any  Latria  or  worship,  in  the  religious  sense  of  the 
word,  except  Narcissus-like  self-worship. 

We  are  thus  thrown  back  on,  and  face  to  face  with,  mere  physi- 
cal conditions,  out  of  which  ideal  concepts  proceed,  while  rigidly 
excluding  all  those  misnamed  "spiritual"  ones,  which  hitherto  have 
played  so  momentous  a  role  in  the  destiny  of  humanity.  We  thus 
make  hygiene,  as  defined  by  Dr.  Parkes  in  the  solemn  introduction 
to  his  manual  of  that  last  (and  first)  of  the  sciences,  as  not  merely 
bodily  sanitation,  though  that  is  already  much,  but  as  supreme  cul- 
ture of  mind  and  body,  (or  to  be  more  scientifically  precise,  of  body 
merely,  including  brain,)  the  all-sufficing  surrogate  of  Divine  wor- 
ship. The  old  adage,  mens  sana  in  corpore  sano,  should  thus  read 

*See  also  a  lengthy  and  serious  review  of  that  able  thinker's  Translations  Jrom 
Schopenhauer  in  the  London  Athen&um  for  October  4,  1890. 


THE  UNITY  OF  THOUGHT  AND  THING.  2OQ 

corpus  sanum=mens  sana,  merely.  This  Volte  face  turns  every  extant 
ethical  and  mental  view  topsy-turvy.  As  it  must  do  by  exploding 
"thing"  altogether,  and  by  substituting  our  own  thoughts  for  ob- 
jects of  all  kinds.  It  is  true,  or  it  may  be  granted,  that  there  is  an 
objective  or  distal  aspect  of  subjective  thought.  But  that  fact,  or 
admission,  in  no  degree  invalidates  the  position  that  the  only  ob- 
jects cognisable  are  those  incorporated  with,  and  by,  the  subject 
self,  from  which  all  "things"  proceed.  This  interpretation  of  the 
universe  is,  inter  alia  mult  a,  that  of  the  emancipated  Baccalaureus 
in  the  second  part  of  Goethe's  "Faust,"  as  enunciated  in  the  lines  : 

"  I  tell  you  this  is  Youth's  [Man's]  supreme  vocation  ! 
Before  me  was  no  world- — "'tis  my  creation: 
'Twas  I  who  raised  the  Sun  from  out  the  sea ; 
The  Moon  began  her  changeful  course  with  me. 
I  gave  the  signal  on  that  primal  night 
When  all  the  host  of  heaven  burst  forth  in  light. 
Who  but  MYSELF  saves  Man  from  the  dominion 
Of  dogmas  cramping,  crushing,  Philistinean  ?  " 

Indeed  it  is  the  very  first  and  last  principle  of  common  sense 
and  common  place  that  before  a  "thing"  is  perceptible  it  must  be 
made  sensible,  and  where  can  sensibility  lie  except  in  the  sensorium 
which  manifests  that  property?  On  the  ground  alone  of  conscious- 
ness or  sensation  being  a  somatic  office  or  function  it  can  only  be, 
like  all  other  organic  functions,  an  emanation  of  the  self,  and  hence 
we  are  coerced  into  the  conclusion  that  all  things  are  but  forms  of 
the  Ego  itself  at  once  both  Creator  and  Creation. 

This  non-animism  thus  makes  each  unit  of  humanity  all  that 
has,  in  pre-scientific  minds  where  absolutism  and  dualism  is  the 
watchword  of  the  intellect,  been  predicated  as  Divine.  Where 
reason,  based  on  positive  science,  comes  into  play,  or,  in  other 
words,  when  man  ceases  to  be  an  infant,  religion  or  theism  disappears 
as  a  childish  illusion  utterly  incompatible  with  right  reason  and  ra- 
tional ethics.  All  religious  ideals  and  systems — none  more  than  the 
Christian — are  based  on  hideous  immorality.  For  what  can  be  more 
iniquitous  than  the  doctrine  of  the  Atonement,  i.  e.,  of  the  vicarious 
sacrifice  of  a  sinless  victim  for  a  sinful  criminal  ?  But  preceding 
this  ethical  crux  is  the  logical  fiction.  For  how  can  the  Partheno- 
genetic  birth  of  Christ  redeem  him  from  the  primeval  "curse"  en- 


210  THE   MONIST. 

tailed  on  all  mankind  by  the  mythical  "disobedience"  of  our  federal 
head  and  representative?  From  this  "curse"  virgins  are  no  more 
exempt  than  their  grandmothers,  and  thus,  on  its  own  data,  Chris- 
tianity is  "hoist  with  its  own  petard."  Indeed,  a  replica  of  Adam's 
abiogenetic  "  creation  "  would  not  serve,  since  earth  and  air  partook 
of  the  "curse  "  entailed  on  our  "first  parents."  No  God  is  needed 
since  man  is  seen  to  be  an  Autochthon  and,  as  such,  an  Anteus,  who 
derives  all  the  faculties  required  for  existence  out  of  the  telluric 
matrix  or  humus  (living  earth)  from  which  he  sprang. 

As  long  as  the  absolute  doctrine  of  dual  existence  vitiated  phi- 
losophy— a  dual  factor,  in  the  guise  of  an  animating  principle  was, 
or  seemed,  a  desideratum.  But  since  the  inductive  biological  theory, 
which  defines  life  as  the  sum  of  the  organic  functions  and  a  physio- 
logical state,  was  established,  man  can  quite  rest  content  in  the 
satisfactory  creed  that  he  himself — each  for  each — is  his  own  law, 
standard,  criterion,  and  final  court  of  appeal.  Clericals  of  all  de- 
nominations are  then  seen  to  be  self-evidently  "kicking  against  the 
pricks,"  when,  in  our  fin  de  siecle  age,  they  attempt  to  bolster  up 
the  obsolete  anachronism  of  animism  (dualism) — a  quite  impossible 
task,  as  I  have  before  shown — from  the  incompatibility  of  two  such 
factors  as  matter  and  what  they  are  pleased  to  call  "spirit"  react- 
ing on  each  other. 

It  is,  I  repeat,  a  case  of  pure  fetichism  or  ghostism — the  same 
in  essence  that  induced  the  ancients  to  formulate  their  Lares  and 
Penates,  Dryads,  etc.,  and  in  short,  to  feign  a  god,  or  goddess,  for 
every  phenomenon  from  Jove,  launcher  of  the  thunderbolts,  to  Clo- 
acina  of  the  sewers. 

Pope,  even,  in  his  "Essay  on  Man,"  written  many  years  after 
the  appearance  of  Newton's  "Principia,"  could  not  rid  himself  of 
the  notion  that  "ruling  angels"  were  required  to  regulate  the 
spheres.  And,  long  after  Pope,  poets  invoked  their  muse  as  a 
source  of  inspiration  separate  from  themselves  !  But,  in  our  age, 
all  such  confusion  of  thought  is  a  really  inexcusable  blunder  which 
must,  sooner  or  later,  prove  a  Nemesis  to  that  vicious  civilisation 
which  fosters  so  palpable  a  delusion. 

LONDON,  ENGLAND.  R.  LEWINS,  M.  D. 


I 


THE  SUBJECTIVE  AND  OBJECTIVE  RELATION. 

A  FOUR-FOLD  CONSPECTUS. 

"  The  relation  between  subject  and  object  should 
properly  be  called  the  subjective  and  objective  re- 
lation."— Reliques  of  Constance  Naden. 

I.     DUALISM. 

N  the  course  of  my  reading,  some  years  ago,  I  remember  being 
struck  with  an  admission  on  the  part  of  a  confessed  dualist,  the 
present  occupant  of  the  chair  of  logic  in  the  University  of  Glasgow. 
The  passage,  which  is  as  follows,  occurs  in  a  criticism  of  the  views 
of  the  late  Prof.  J.  H.  Green,  of  Oxford. 

"  It  may  be  said, — it  seems  to  be  assumed, — that  the  existence  of  a  distinguish- 
ing self -consciousness  is  needed  for  the  subsistence  of  the  object  perceived — for  ex- 
ample, force  in  space.  Now,  I  do  not  say  that  the  mode  of  the  subsistence  of  force 
that  passes  out  of  my  perception  is  easily  explicable,  or  explicable  at  all.  Here, 
possibly,  we  may  be  face  to  face  with  the  mystery — the  insoluble  mystery — of  being. " 
("Knowing  and  Being,"  by  Professor  Veitch,  LL.D.  Blackwoods,  1889,  p.  221.) 

It  seems  to  me  that  this  admission  involves  much  more  than  at 
first  sight  appears.  Taken  in  connexion  with  the  qualifications  which 
immediately  follow,  it  is  the  very  key-note  of  modern  dualism — a 
notable  advance  indeed  upon  the  old-fashioned  doctrine,  though 
dualism  still. 

"But  I  may  have  evidence,"  continues  the  writer,  "from  experience — inferen- 
tial proof — that  the  force  or  object  does  exist  in  some  way  or  other,  in  a  sphere 
transcending  my  perception.  This,  in  fact,  is  the  lesson  of  science  in  its  simplest 
form."  (Ibid.) 

These  are  not  the  only  passages  of  the  same  work  in  which  such 
arguments  are  to  be  found.  Besides  "the  insensible  constituents 


212  THE  MONIST. 

of  the  world  in  the  form  of  atom,  ether,  corpuscle,  along  with,  and 
involved  in,  the  sensible,"  which,  we  are  told,  "are  not  and  never 
can  become  objects  of  perception,  that  is,  phenomena  in  the  proper 
sense  of  the  term,"  there  are  the  varied  relationships  into  which  per- 
ceived objects  may  enter  from  time  to  time,  there  is  (p.  72)  "  a  nerve- 
current  preceding  actual  or  conscious  sensation  and  perception  by 
us,  of  which,  at  the  moment,  we  are  wholly  unconscious,"  and  still 
further,  and,  "beyond  the  organism  or  bodily  sphere  there  are 
agencies  in  space  which  precede,  condition,  so  far  determine,  our 
actual  sensation  or  perception,  of  which,  however,  we  have  neither 
sensation  nor  perception." 

And  because  all  this  cumulative  evidence  goes,  apparently,  to 
prove  that,  beyond  the  individual  organism,  or  at  least  on  its  outer- 
most confines,  there  exists  a  group  of  facts  which  cannot  be  regarded 
as  egoistically  "constituted,"  the  conclusion  is  sought  to  be  reached 
that  the  order  of  nature  is  dualistic.  Yet,  as  we  have  seen,  the  argu- 
ment halts  a  little  at  one  stage.  "  I  do  not  say,"  is  the  expression 
of  Professor  Veitch  regarding  one  portion  of  its  basis,  that  it  is 
" easily  explicable  or  explicable  at  all."  Ethereal  vibrations  and 
undulations  preceding  perception — anticipating  the  percipient  as  it 
were,  and  therefore  surely  independent  of  him,  are  plain  enough 
from  the  standpoint  of  dualism.  What  is  about  to  pass  into  perception 
is  granted,  but  the  subsistence  of  that  which  passes  out  of  perception 
is  perhaps  inexplicable  !  Upon  what  principle  is  this  theory  based? 
Surely  upon  one  itself  inexplicable,  were  it  not  that  a  further  quota- 
tion shows  confusion  of  thought  to  be  at  the  root  of  the  matter. 
The  words  italicised  point  clearly  enough  to  oscillation  in  the  view- 
point. 

"We  distinguish  ourselves  from  the  object  or  percept.  .  .  .  Are  we  entitled 
on  this  ground  to  say  that  its  whole  reality  is  identical  with  its  perceived  reality  ? 
That  it  may  not  subsist  apart  from  the  time  of  our  perception,  either  as  it  is,  or  in 
some  form  capable  again  of  appearing  to  us  as  an  object,  even  an  object  similar  to  what 
we  now  perceive  /*"  (Ibid.  p.  200.) 

Professor  Veitch  combats  the  Oxford  Professor's  contention 
that  the  ego  of  consciousness  "constitutes"  nature,  or  the  external 
world.  But  he  seems  reluctantly  to  admit  that  once  anything  ex- 


THE   SUBJECTIVE  AND  OBJECTIVE  RELATION.  213 

ternal  has  passed  through  consciousness,  e.  g.  experienced  force, 
the  said  force  is  never  the  same  again  as  it  was  before.  ABC.  .  . 
successively  passing  through  the  point  of  consciousness  are  normal 
and  intelligible  up  to  that  point,  but  once  they  have  emerged  from 
it  their  subsistence  becomes  "not  easily  explicable  if  explicable  at 
all,"  hints,  in  fact,  of  "the  mystery — the  insoluble  mystery  of 
being." 

Now,  the  ego  is  either  (in  Professor  Green's  sense)  constitutive 
or  it  is  not  constitutive.  It  matters  little,  at  this  stage,  in  what  spe- 
cial sense  the  ego  is  regarded.  Either  the  former  or  the  latter  al- 
ternative must,  however,  be  true  of  it.  If  the  former — if  it  is  con- 
stitutive— then  it  is  surely  capable,  if  not  of  accounting  for  succeed- 
ing phenomena,  in  which  case  the  dualistic  argument  fails.  If  the 
latter — if  the  ego  is  not  constitutive, — then  it  influences  neither  pre- 
ceding nor  succeeding  entities,  and  there  is  nothing  "inexplicable  " 
at  all  ! 

This  advanced  view  on  the  part  of  the  author  of  "  Knowing  and 
Being "  does  not.  however,  characterise  him  throughout.  Along 
with  it,  he  professes  thorough-paced  dualism  of  the  older  type — and 
answers  the  question  "  Wh}^  does  the  intelligence  make  different  re- 
lations ?"  with  the  characteristic  statement:  "On  no  reasonable 
ground  but  on  that  of  a  known  order,  which  it  does  not  create,  but 
which  informs  and  illumines  it"  (p.  141).  With  him,  the  perceived 
object  in  the  moment  of  perception  is,  of  course,  related  to  the  sub- 
ject, but  he  insists  repeatedly  that  this  relationship  may  be  but  tem- 
porary and  accidental,  and,  above  all,  that  even  to  admit  that  an 
object  is  so  "constituted"  is  not  to  dogmatise  as  to  the  sole  being  of 
that  object.  Significant  indeed,  are  expressions  such  as  the  follow- 
ing :  "a  conscious  or  spiritual  subject,  continuous  in  time,  exercis- 
ing a  synthesis  on  an  order  of  facts,  for  purposes  of  knowledge," 
and  this  again,  "the  singular,  indivisible  unity  of  the  subject,  one 
in  the  midst  of  the  passing  terms"  (p.  235-236). 

The  principal  point,  however,  to  be  noted  here  is,  that,  at  the 
same  stage  of  the  argument  does  the  selfsame  difficulty  present  it- 
self to  dualist  (as  represented  by  Professor  Veitch)  and  to  monist 
(as  represented  by  Professor  Green)  alike.  What  the  resource  of 


214  THE  MONIST. 

transcendental  monism  is,  we  have  yet  to  consider.  But  the  modern 
dualist  finds  himself  landed  in  difficulties  at  precisely  the  same 
point.  To  the  dualist  it  is,  of  course,  of  no  moment — it  is  rather  a 
distinct  advantage — that  the  subject  should  be  shown  to  rise  superior 
to  the  series  of  contemplated  objects — though  the  same  admission  is 
really  fatal  to  monism.  But — and  here  lies  the  crux  of  dualism — 
although  it  is  not  only  permissible,  but  essential  to  this  view  to  re- 
gard objective  facts  as,  somehow,  existent  prior  to  the  instant  of 
perception,  it  is  no  less  fatal  to  it  to  be  compelled  to  define,  either 
(a)  the  exact  mode  of  their  subsistence  (e.  g.,  in  the  case  of  force) 
when  the  selfsame  time  has  passed,  and  the  object,  once  in  the 
field  of  perception,  has  quitted  it,  or,  (b)  the  qualifying  effect  of  the 
subject  (for  it  must  surely  amount  to  something)  upon  such  an  ob- 
ject. If  as  stimulus  such  an  object  existed  prior  to  perception,  must 
it  not  as  stimulus  subsist  afterwards?  which  would  be  an  awkward 
conclusion.  The  explanation  of  all  this  probably  is  that  modern 
dualism,  being  plain  dualism  no  longer,  is  compelled  to  "  hedge  " 
and  finds  itself  in  difficulties  accordingly.  After  all,  the  main  diffi- 
culty is  not  wholly  novel.  "Teacher,"  inquired  a  latter-day  pupil, 
watching  his  preceptor  setting  a  sum  on  the  blackboard,  "Teacher, 
where  do  the  figures  go  to  when  you  rub  them  out?" 

It  is  all  very  well  to  appeal  to  "science  "  for  an  argument  against 
Professor  Green's  position,  and  to  point  out  that,  say,  water,  cannot 
be  said  to  be  "constituted" — at  least,  in  its  totality — in  the  moment 
of  perception,  seeing  that  the  "surface  properties"  of  clearness, 
fluidity,  etc.,  which  alone  are  then  patent,  do  not  "make  up"  the 
object  in  its  entirety — the  insensible  constituents — oxygen  and  hydro- 
gen (which,  as  dualism  triumphantly  asserts,  go  to  make  the  water 
what  it  is,  and  without  which  it  would  not  have  been  at  all) — being 
altogether  omitted.  This  is  so  far  telling,  though  the  weak  point  of 
the  argument  is  not  difficult  of  discovery.  But,  when  it  is  sought 
to  be  impressed  upon  us  that  the  "stimulus"  of  light  and  sound 
sensation  similarly  precedes,  necessarily,  the  sensation  itself,  and 
dualistic  capital  is  sought  to  be  made  out  of  the  statement,  the 
ground  is  not  so  certain.  The  field  is  shifted  from  that  of  "gath- 
ered knowledge  "  to  that  of  purely  subjective  hypothesis.  It  must 


THE  SUBJECTIVE  AND  OBJECTIVE  RELATION.  215 

be  remembered  that  the  cue  of  dualism  does  not  consist  in  showing 
that  perception  is  a  complicated  process.  No  one  denies  that.  Its 
very  foundation,  an  the  other  hand,  is  shaken  if  it  cannot  be  dem- 
onstrated that  throughout  the  cosmos  a  boundary  line  exists,  capable 
of  verification  everywhere  and  at  all  times.  Otherwise  dualism 
perishes.  This  separation  must  be  drawn  throughout  the  realm  of 
facts,  verifiable  facts  only.  And  that  is  an  impossibility,  if  for  this 
reason  alone,  that,  on  the  ground  of  physics,  a  subjective-objective 
separation  throughout  would  lead  to  atomic  divisibility,  and  the  re- 
gion of  hypothesis  is  invaded,  where  your  dividing-line  is  drawn  ac- 
cording to  the  dictates  of  fancy  alone. 

Here  is  a  subject-object  relation  admittedly  fortuitous  and  tem- 
porary. 

II.     TRANSCENDENTAL  MONISM. 

This  section  need  not  be  a  lengthy  one,  if  for  this  reason  alone, 
that  the  chief  difficulty  of  advanced  dualism  upon  which  we  have 
just  dwelt,  is  the  opportunity  of  the  first  stage  of  monism. 

Since  the  time  of  Hume,  when  the  permanent  conscious  sub- 
ject was  dispensed  with,  in  favor  of  a  "string  of  impressions  ille- 
gitimately bound  together  in  a  series,"  the  apparent  need  of  philos- 
ophy was  a  "something,"  in  which  the  series  of  impressions,  as  a 
series,  might  inhere.  That  this  "something"  could  not  well  be  the 
individual  consciousness,  as  a  subject,  was  sufficiently  evident  to 
the  monists.  For,  once  place  the  individual  consciousness  in  the 
needed  position  of  superiority  over,  or  aloofness  from,  the  impres- 
sional  series,  in  order  that  it  may  not  only  reflect, — mirror-like, — 
the  terms  of  the  passing  series,  but,  at  the  same  time,  synthesise 
them  into  a  connected  whole,  and  you  at  the  same  time  admit  a 
dualism. 

There  was,  indeed,  a  twofold  difficulty,  arising  from  timal  ex- 
igencies. There  was  (i)  the  objection,  urged  by  dualism,  that/r/or 
to  the  conscious  impression  there  was  a  natural  process — certainly 
not  subjective — say  of  undulation  or  vibration  of  ether,  without 
which  sensation  could  not  possibly  happen.  Time  being  a  factor  in 
the  situation,  how  could  the  conclusion  be  avoided  that  here  was  an 


2l6  THE  MONIST. 

apparently  unconnected  entity,  separate  from  consciousness  ?  And 
then  (2)  there  was  the  added  difficulty,  that  no  passage  of  the  sev- 
eral impressions  a,  b,  c  .  .  .  .  through  the  point  of  consciousness, 
could  give  more  than  what  the  several  impressions  individually  were 
— a  record  of  each  successive  impression,  but  no  record  of  the  gath- 
ered synthesis.  The  twenty-four  hours  might  pass  over  the  dial, 
but  the  faculty  was  wanting  to  sum  up  the  result  into  the  total  of 
one  day. 

This  pure  thinking  subject,  "other  than  the  events,  and  not 
passing  with  them,"  must  evidently,  if  it  is  to  be  equal  to  the  occa- 
sion, be  itself  timeless,  —  "imposing,  but  not  submitting  to,  the  con- 
ditions of  time  and  space."  Hence  the  origination  of  the  Eternal 
Consciousness  of  the  late  Professor  Green.  "  The  analogy  of  the 
perceiving  consciousness  is  transferred  to  the  universe  or  universe- 
consciousness,  and,  as  perceived,  reality  is  simply  relation  in  time 
by  a  subject  out  of  time  ;  so  is  all  the  reality  of  the  universe.  There 
is  a  (or  one)  consciousness,  or  self-distinguishing  subject,  for  which 
the  relations  or  facts  that  form  the  object  of  our  gradually  attained 
knowledge  already  and  eternally  exist.  .  .  .  This  is  the  eternally 
complete  consciousness." 

This  is  what  has  been  called  the  method  of  transcendental  ab- 
stractionalism,  for  besides  the  importation  into  the  matter  of  a  trans- 
cendental ego — subject  and  object  in  itself,  as  holding  the  universe 
fact  in  solution — the  operation  has  been  facilitated  by  what  may  be 
called  the  abstractionalist  view  of  the  individual  self.  In  a  word, 
thought,  and  not  the  thinker,  is  dwelt  upon, — consciousness,  and 
not  the  conscious  subject.  In  this  way  it  is  easy  to  pass  to  the  posi- 
tion of  holding  this  transcendental  self  to  be  real — in  fact,  the  only 
reality — instead  of,  as  with  Kant,  a  logical  abstraction,  and,  finally, 
to  its  elevation  to  a  theistic  level  as  a  substitute  for  the  God  of  pop- 
ular theology.  As  Professor  Veitch  puts  Green's  position  ("  Know- 
ing and  Being,"  p.  30). 

"  It  is  as  we  relate,  according  to  the  relations  of  the  eternal  consciousness,  that 
we  reach  the  truth  of  things.  This  is  an  infinite  fount,  or,  better,  reservoir,  of  time- 
less relations,  which  pours  life  into  the  human  consciousness  in  time.  It  is  the  con- 
dition, not  only  of  knowledge,  but  the  creator  of  reality." 


THE   SUBJECTIVE  AND  OBJECTIVE   RELATION.  2IJ 

This  Neo-Kantian  theory,  as  it  has  been  called,  differs  from  the 
ordinary  subject-object  presentation  of  dualism  most  markedly  in 
the  following  respect.  It  seeks  to  blend  percepts  with  concepts — 
or,  rather,  to  recognise  nothing  in  the  former  which  is  not  in  the  latter. 
It  seeks  to  include  all  outward,  or  so-called  external,  reality  within 
the  domain  of  thought.  Thought  being  thus  supreme  over  the  ob- 
jective, the  thinking  subject  disappears  in-  the  same  mist,  and  the 
abstraction  of  the  infinite  consciousness  alone  remains.  This  is  mo- 
nism, indeed, — of  a  kind. 

/;/  this  aspect,  the  subject-object  relation  altogether  disappears  by 
fusion  in  a  transcendental  entity,  which,  so  far  from  preserving  the  re- 
lation within  itself,  is  only  a  means  of  its  obliteration. 

III.     MONISTIC  POSITIVISM. 

This  view  is  ably  expounded  by  Dr.  Paul  Carus  in  his  works 
"Fundamental  Problems,"  "The  Soul  of  Man,"  etc.,  (The  Open 
Court  Publishing  Co.),  and  in  the  pages  of  The  Open  Court  and  The 
Monist.  In  it  we  find  a  presentation  of  the  subject- object  relation 
radically  different  from  either  of  the  foregoing.  But  Dr.  Carus  can 
best  describe  his  own  method. 

"  Positive  philosophy  rejects  all  kinds  of  postulates,  and  starts  from  the  posi- 
tive data  of  experience.  The  data  of  experience  are  the  several  states  of  our  con- 
sciousness. The  elements  of  our  states  of  consciousness  are  sensory  impressions. 
A  sensory  impression,  fully  realised  in  consciousness,  is  a  sensation.  Sensations  be- 
come percepts  ;  many  percepts  of  the  same  kind  become  concepts.  Thus  all  the 
objects  of  our  surroundings  are  mirrored  in  their  relation  toward  us,  and  among 
themselves,  in  the  living  substance  of  our  brain"  ("  Soul  of  Man,"  pp.  374-375). 

Now,  with  a  reservation  to  be  afterwards  noted,  this  is  much 
more  than  an  initial  step  in  the  right  direction.  The  dualism  which 
we  have  examined  professed  much  the  same  intentions  to  start  with, 
but  did  not  keep  its  promise — its  system  of  research  being  vitiated, 
at  the  very  outset,  by  a  foregone  conclusion — the  separation,  namely, 
of  subject  from  object.  This  separation  is  implicit,  if  not  explicit 
in  its  proposal  ("Knowing  and  Being,"  Intro,  p.  i)  to  begin  with 
the  twofold  questions  to  which  its  philosophy  is  to  supply  the  an- 
swers— viz.  "What  do  I  know?"  and  "What  is?  "  In  the  shaping 
of  these  queries  a  separation  is  taken  for  granted,  at  the  very  thres- 


2l8  THE  MONIST. 

hold  of  inquiry,  between  knowing  and  being.  How  has  it  been  as- 
certained, at  this  stage,  that  knowing  and  being  are  different  spheres? 
Why,  at  the  outset,  is  it  assumed  that  that  which  exists  so  divides 
itself  ?  But  we  turn  to  Dr.  Carus.  Take  the  following  extracts  as 
samples  : 

1)  ' '  All  elements  of  objective  reality  are  inseparably  united  with  the  correspond- 
ing elements  of  subjective  reality,  and  the  latter  are  those  facts  which  under  special 
conditions,  and  in  special  combinations,  unite  into  feelings  "  ("  Soul  of  Man,"  p.  7). 

2)  "Feelings  must  be  considered  as  a  complex  of  certain  elements  which  we 
call  'the  elements  of  feeling'  "  (Ibid.,  p.  6). 

3)  "The  world  is  as  it  is,  one  indivisible  whole.     All  its  objective  reality  is 
throughout  combined  with  subjective  reality.     The  objective  reality  we  call  matter, 
and  its  activity,  motions.     The  subjective  reality  we  call  elements  of  feeling  ;  and 
the  compounds  resulting  therefrom  are  actual  feelings  and  consciousness"  (Ibid., 
p.  10). 

4)  "If  neither  matter  nor  motion  is  to  be  considered  the  one  as  the  basis  of  the 
other,  reality,  as  it  exists  in  itself,  may  be  conceived  as  a  great  interacting  some- 
thing, in  which  the  effects  of  all  the  surrounding  parts  upon  one  special  part,  an 
atom  or  a  monad,  in  so  far  as  this  part  is  concerned,  appear  as  what  we  have  defined 
as  an  element  of  feeling  ;  while  the  effects  of  this  special  part,  of  every  atom  or 
monad,  upon  the  rest,  in  so  far  as  the  totality  is  concerned,  appear  as  motion" 
(Ibid.,  p.  14). 

5)  "The  whole  domain  of  mind-activity  (i.  e.  of  the  representativeness  of  feel- 
ings) is  called  subjective  ;  while  the  totality  of  all  facts  that  are  represented  in  the 
mind  is  called  objective.  .  .  .  Subjective  existence  constantly  draws  upon  objective 
existence.  .  .  .  We  distinguish  between  our  body  and  external  facts  ;  but  the  boundary 
between  both  provinces  is  not  distinct.     There  is  constantly  an  exchange  of  sub- 
stance taking  place,  proving  that  our  body  is  in  kind  not  different  from  the  substance 
of  which  external  facts  consist.    It  must  be  regarded  as  a  group  of  the  same  kind  as 
external  facts,  existing  in  a  constant  interaction  with,  and  among,  the  external  facts. 
In  other  words,  the  body  of  the  thinking  subject  is  an  object  in  the  objective  world  " 
(Ibid.,  p.  25). 

6)  "The  data  of  knowledge  are  not  mere  subjective  states,  they  are  relations 
between  subject  and  object.     Neither  the  subject  is  given,  nor  the  object ;  but  an 
interaction  between  subject  and  object.     From  this  interaction  we  derive  by  a  very 
complicated  process  of  abstraction  both  concepts,  the  subject  as  well  as  the  object. 
It  is  true  that  the  subjective  world  of  feelings,  and  of  representative  feeling,  is  very 
different  from  the  objective  world  of  things.     Nevertheless  they  are  one.    The  sub- 
ject, together  with  all  objects,  forms  one  inseparable  whole  of  subject-object-ness  " 
(Ibid.,  p.  36). 


THE   SUBJECTIVE  AND  OBJECTIVE  RELATION.  2 19 

Should  the  above  brief  conspectus  of  quotation  fail  fairly  to  pre- 
sent Dr.  Carus's  philosophical  view-point,  it  must  be  remembered 
that  this  paper  is  only  concerned  with  the  subject-object  relation, 
and  only  with  such  part  of  each  reviewed  system  as  if  concerned 
with  the  said  relation.  Of  course,  as  a  vital  point  in  every  philo- 
sophical system  the  treatment  of  this  portion  fairly  indicates  the 
drift  of  the  whole.  Only  it  must  not — this  partial  survey — be  mis- 
taken for  a  complete  exposition.  Considerations  of  space  alone 
would  prevent  any  such  attempt. 

Monistic  positivism  shows  no  lack  of  logical  thoroughness.  It 
is  distinguished  by  much  acumen,  and,  from  its  constant  consulta- 
tion of  physical  data,  is  readily  verifiable,  from  time  to  time,  by  the 
student.  Whether  or  not  it  is  a  completely  successful  rationale  of 
the  subject-object  relation,  within  the  limits  of  a  consistent  monism, 
is  another  matter.  Probably  its  author  would  be  the  first  to  depre- 
cate its  being  classed  as  final,  or  as  not  amenable  to  correction.  This 
correction,  however,  it  is  not  always  easy  to  make,  or  even  to  sug- 
gest. It  is  proverbially  difficult  to  alter  successfully  another  person's 
work,  and  the  difficulty  is  greater  when  the  theme  involved  is  one 
of  the  vexed  problems  of  philosophy.  There  is  the  risk,  again,  of 
misunderstanding  the  terminology  employed,  even  by  a  writer  so 
precise  and  accurate  as  Dr.  Carus.  But  it  may  be  allowable  to  state 
briefly  some  of  the  points  in  respect  of  which  monistic  positivism, 
in  regard  to  the  matter  now  at  issue,  seems  to  fall  short  of  a  true 
unification. 

Let  us  look  again  at  the  above  quotation  (p.  36),  "  Neither  the 
subject  is  given,  nor  the  object ;  but  an  interaction  between  subject 
and  object."  If  by  this  is  meant  that  the  sensation,  say  of  color,  is 
the  result  of  an  interaction  between  vibratory  ether  and  the  optic 
nerve,  the  statement  is  correct.  But  how  about  the  "projection" 
of  this  into  the  objective  world,  concerning  which  Dr.  Carus  treats 
("Soul  of  Man,"  p.  30).  The  projection  in  question  is  comprehen- 
sible enough  in  the  case  of  the  illustration  there  given — a  printed 
page,  which,  as  a  given  fact,  is  the  sense-impression  of  a  white  rect- 
angle covered  with  little  black  characters,  and,  as  the  corresponding 
inferred  fact,  a  sheet  of  paper.  Is  a  colored  surface,  then,  the  cor- 


220  THE    MONIST. 

responding  inferred  fact  of  the  simple  color  which  is  the  given  fact? 
Be  this  as  it  may,  the  same  objection,  urged  by  dualism  against 
Professor  Green,  will  avail  against  monistic  positivism.  For  "the 
interaction  "  is  not  everything.  There  is  something  which  precedes 
it  in  time.  There  is  the  ethereal  vibration  which  anticipates  con- 
sciousness, sensation,  perception, — which  necessarily  precedes  -all 
this.  Now,  what  precisely  is  this  vibration?  Subjective?  Then,  to 
quote  Dr.  Carus  ("Soul  of  Man,  p.  27),  "The  elements  of  the  sub- 
jective world  are  features  that  we  must  suppose  to  be  inseparably 
united  with  the  elements  of  the  objective  world,  which  are  repre- 
sented in  our  mind  as  motions."  But  this  vibration,  prior  to  sensa- 
tion, is  not  represented  in  any  mind.  Is  it  objective?  Then,  again, 
"All  elements  of  objective  reality  are  inseparably  united  with  the 
corresponding  elements  of  subjective  reality"  ("Soul  of  Man,"  p. 
7).  But  the  vibration  in  question  is  not  yet  united  with  any  sub- 
jective reality,  or  element  of  such,  therefore  it  cannot  be  itself  ob- 
jective, or  an  element  of  objective  reality.  And,  as  it  cannot  be  an 
"interaction"  between  subject  and  object,  seeing  that  no  interaction 
has  yet  taken  place,  what  can  it  be  ? 

And  the  question  goes  deeper  still. 

"  The  presence  of  the  elements  of  feeling  must  be  supposed  to 
be  an  intrinsic  property  of  the  objective  world  "  ("Soul  of  Man,"  p. 
27).  But  at  what  stage?  For  we  read  (p.  26),  that  the  subjective 
world  is  "transient";  the  objective,  "  eternal,  indestructible."  Thus 
the  conclusion  is  irresistible  that,  until  such  time  as  the  conditions 
of  development  of  subjective  feelings  arise — until  potentiality  de- 
velops into  actuality,  the  objective  exists  without  any  subjective 
counterpart.  As  the  objective  cannot  be  said  to  form  an  interaction 
with  its  own  potentialities,  or  "intrinsic  properties,"  how  can  we 
say,  again,  that  neither  the  subject  is  given,  nor  the  object,  but  an 
interaction  between  them? 

Further,  it  is  not  plain  what  rationale  Dr.  Carus  gives  regard- 
ing the  mode  of  the  subsistence  of  force,  passing  out  of  perception. 
All  is  clear  so  long  as  a  subject  is  ready  to  form  an  "interaction" 
with  the  objective,  but  nothing  seems  to  be  provided  for  the  contin- 


THE  SUBJECTIVE  AND  OBJECTIVE  RELATION.  221 

gency  of  an  entity — objective  or  otherwise — either  preceding  or  suc- 
ceeding the  subjective  in  time. 

Let  us  examine  another  passage  —  italicising  some  notable 
words  : 

"Truth  in  one  sense  is  objective;  it  represents  objects,  or  their  relations,  con- 
ceived in  their  objectivity,  in  their  independence,  of  the  subject.  This  means  that 
the  representation  of  certain  objective  states  will,  under  like  conditions,  agree  with 
the  experiences  of  all  subjects,  i.  e.  of  all  feeling  beings  having  the  same  channels  of 
information."  ("Soul  of  Man,"  pp.  41-42.) 

How  are  "the  experiences  of  all  subjects,  i.  e.  of  all  feeling  be- 
ings," to  be  arrived  at  ?  Are  not  all  feeling  beings — other  than  self — 
upon  the  same  objective  level  to  me  as  other  objects  ?  If  so,  how 
can  such  "ejects,"  as  are  here  referred  to,  compare  with  my  own 
proper  subject-object  experiences? 

Perhaps  it  is  owing  to  an  imperfect  understanding  on  the  pres- 
ent writer's  part,  of  the  system  of  monistic  positivism,  but  the  fol- 
lowing is  surely  irreconcilable  with  the  severity  of  monism. 

"  Mind,  or  the  representation  of  facts  in  feeling  substance,  is  the  creation  of  a 
new  and  a  spiritual  realm,  above  the  facts  of  material  existence.  By  spiritual  we 
understand  feelings  that  are  representative  ;  and  we  say  that  it  is  a  new  creation, 
because  it  does  not  exist  in  the  isolated  facts  of  the  world.  It  is  formed  under  cer- 
tain conditions.  It  rises  from  certain  combinations  of  facts  ;  being  built  upon  those 
facts  which  produce,  in  their  cooperation,  the  subjective  state  of  feeling."  ("  Soul 
of  Man,"  p.  42.) 

If  there  exist  isolated  facts,  their  existence  plus  a  new  and  spir- 
itual realm,  or  new  creation,  contradicts  the  statement,  already 
quoted,  that  "the  world  is.  ...  one  indivisible  whole."  No  com- 
bination of  already  existing  facts  can  make  anything  properly  "new." 
Nothing  can  issue,  from  thus  ringing  the  changes,  which  was  not 
there  before  at  least  potentially,  and  the  development  of  potentiality 
into  actuality,  though  it  may  involve  the  novel,  does  not,  in  a  philo- 
sophical sense,  imply  the  new. 

All  this,  as  it  seems  to  the  present  writer,  is  the  result  of  an 
erroneous  method  of  inquiry.  A  philosophical  inquiry  into  the  pre- 
cise nature  of  the  subject-object  relation  should  start  from  the  indi- 
vidual, personal  consciousness,  tracing,  step  by  step,  how  much 


222  THE  MONIST. 

this  includes,  and,  only  when  this  has  been  ascertained,  should  the 
search  be  prolonged, — if  it  is  to  be  prolonged, — into  other  fields. 
It  seems,  in  monistic  positivism,  as  if  this  rule  were  not  adhered  to ; 
the  testimony  of  the  individual,  personal  consciousness  is  indeed 
appealed  to,  but  only  incidentally,  and  the  line  of  research  is  di- 
verted without  notice,  and,  as  if  the  two  methods  were  one  and  the 
same,  into  the  region  of  experimental  physics.  A  subjective  in- 
quiry, which  alone  can  inform  of  the  subject-object  relation,  is 
shifted  for  purely  objective  exploration.  Now,  it  is  idle  to  search 
for  the  subjective  where  it  does  not  reside,  and  in  the  exploration  of 
nerve  and  tissue  for  the  rationale  of  subject-object  relation  the  ex- 
perimenter is  dealing  with  the  object  alone,  plus,  of  course,  his  own 
subjectivity,  which,  in  this  instance,  is  beside  the  mark.  In  other 
words,  objectivity  (not  ejectivity  or  inferred  thoughts  of  "other 
thinking  beings,"  all  of  whose  thoughts  are  on  an  entirely  distinct 
level),  coupled  with  my  own,  proper  subjectivity,  gives  the  relation 
sought.  But  in  objectivity  alone,  or  coupled  with  inferred  thoughts 
of  "  other  thinking  beings," — that  is  ejectivity, — the  junction,  say 
in  brain  localisation  and  nerve  differentiation,  is  nowhere  to  be 
found.  The  desired  relation,  the  only  true  subject-object  relation — 
must  be  found  at  first  hand. 

In  monistic  positivism  the  subject-object  relation  is  presented  in  a 
clearer  and  more  consistent  light  than  by  either  of  the  former  systems. 
But  as,  to  a  certain  extent,  the  relation  is  represented  as  obtaining  in  a 
potential  form,  the  basis,  to  that  extent,  is  insufficient. 

IV.     AUTO-MONISM. 

Now,  does  it  not  seem  after  our  brief  review  of  the  foregoing 
systems,  as  if,  in  connexion  with  the  subject-object  relation,  some- 
thing curiously  similar  is  lacking  in  all  ?  Dualism  halts  at  the  stage 
when  force,  passing  out  of  perception,  has  nothing  "easily  explica- 
ble, if  explicable  at  all,"  wherein  to  subsist.  This  difficulty  is  at- 
tempted to  be  met,  in  transcendental  monism,  by  the  expedient  of 
handing  over  the  force  in  question  to  a  consciousness,  which  turns 
out  to  be  not  properly  egoistic  at  all,  but  common  to  all  the  indi- 
viduals of  the  human  race — thus  slurring  over  the  individual  subject 


THE  SUBJECTIVE  AND  OBJECTIVE  RELATION.  223 

altogether.  Monistic  positivism  again  has  need  of  something  wherein 
more  than  the  mere  potentiality  of  subject- object  interaction  may 
reside ;  wherein,  again,  to  unite  the,  apparently  varying,  individual 
"  centres  of  representations  "  into  a  veritable  cosmical  ego,  account- 
ing, in  itself,  for  all,  apparent,  timal  discrepancies. 

These  lacuna  are  filled  by  auto-monism.  But  I  use  words  far 
clearer  than  my  own  to  express  this  truth  of  truths. 

1 '  What  we  know  as  the  external  world  is  composed  of  colors,  sounds,  tastes, 
touches,  and  odors  ;  and  since  these  can  have  no  existence  prior  to  their  birth  in  the 
sensory  ganglia,  we  see  clearly  that  every  man  is  the  maker  of  his  own  cosmos  It 
comes  into  embryonic  existence  with  his  very  first  gleam  of  conscious  life,  and  de- 
velops with  his  development,  as  he  gradually  learns  to  combine  its  lights  and  shades 
into  symbols  of  form,  size,  and  distance,  and  to  indue  its  varying  tones  with  relation 
and  significance  ;  it  becomes  less  vivid  with  his  decline,  and,  at  last,  dies  forever 
with  his  death.  As  soon  as  the  perceptive  organs  have  laid  a  foundation  for  memory 
and  comparison,  the  present  is  supplemented  and  explained  by,  the  past ;  and  the 
union  of  the  two  renders  possible  a  new  cosmos  of  emotion  and  intellect,  which 
obeys  the  same  organic  laws  of  growth  and  decay."  ("Further  Reliques  of  Con- 
stance Naden,"  London,  Bickers,  pp.  120-121.) 

This  is  the  one  side  of  the  binomy  ;  take  this  in  connexion  with 
the  other  side  as  follows,  and  the  rationale  of  auto-monism  (Hylo- 
Idealism)  is  evident  at  once. 

In  answer  to  the  question  "What  is  the  true  starting-point  of 
philosophy,"  Miss  Naden  writes  : 

"This  question  need  not  detain  us  long.  .  .  .  For,  if  subject  and  object  be  in- 
dissolubly  one,  the  simplest  unit  from  which  we  can  start  must  be  the  ego  in  its 
entirety;  that  is,  the  universe  as  felt  and  known."  ("  Reliques, "  p.  152.) 

And  again  : 

1 '  For  the  philosopher  who  deals  with  the  universe  as  a  synthesis,  the  self,  or 
ego,  is  that  same  synthesis,  including  all  the  various  relationships  of  self  and  not-self 
which  can  be  set  up  in  thought."  (Ibid.,  p.  154.) 

In  a  notice  of  the  essays  of  Miss  Naden,  from  which  the  above 
extracts  are  taken,  contained  in  The  Open  Court  (Feb.  u,  1892,  No. 
233,  p.  3142)  the  following  passage  occurs  : 

".  .  .  .  to  argue  from  the  identity  of  the  cosmos  to  the  identification  of  the  cos- 
mos with  the  ego,  as  Miss  Naden  does  ....  appears  to  us  unreasonable." 

Well,  the  argument  is  simply  a  prolongation  of  the  assurance 


224  THE  MON1ST. 

of  self-consciousness  through  the  limits  of  the  universe.  The  divid- 
ing line,  upon  which  monistic  positivism  so  strongly  insists — say 
between  given  and  inferred  facts — does  not  militate  against  the  con- 
clusion arrived  at,  when  it  is  considered  that  this  line,  so  far  from 
implying  virtual  separation,  only  gives  us  units  isolated  in  thought. 

The  synthesis  is  the  true  unit — being  the  only  unit  which  does  not 

* 

imply  anything  else,  which  every  fractional  unit  of  the  universe-syn- 
thesis does. 

Observe  how  auto-monism  supplies  the  gaps  of  the  systems  al- 
ready treated  of : 

1)  The  need  of  "something"   in  which   a  percept,  say  force, 
may  subsist  when  passing  out  of   consciousness,  is  a  mere  begging 
of  the  question  in  favor  of  the  separation  of  subject  and  object.    How 
do  I  know  that  the  force  in  question  is  a  thing  "outside"  myself 
proper?     Dualism  indeed  tells  me  regarding  it,  "This  force  is  op- 
posed to  me   in  every  way,  to  my  will,  to  my  muscular  effort,  to  all 
my  power.      It  is  beyond  me  in  space — in  opposition  to  my  person- 
ality.    It  is  as  distinctly  something  not  belonging  to  me  as  anything 
that  can  be  conceived."     But  the  self  here — the/ — is   that  of  the 
limited  bodily  organism,  part  and  parcel,  however,  all  the  same  of 
that  which  it  experiences.      Otherwise  how  is  it  that  dualism  itself 
finds  its  mind  clouded  with  a  doubt?     As  we  have  seen,  it  cannot 
trust  this  force,  though  "not  belonging  to  me"  out  of  sight  for  an 
instant  after  passing  out  of  its  perception. 

2)  Similarly  transcendental   monism  is  puzzled  because  it  can- 
not find  something  "other  than  the  events  and  not  passing  with 
them,"  unless  it  is  permitted  to  erect  a  timeless  consciousness  to 
hold  the  events  in  solution.    Well,  the  required  consciousness  need 
not  be  sought  for  far  away — since  an  egoistic,  cosmical  synthesis  in- 
cludes both  it  and  the  events.     The  dividing  line  is  only  set  up  in 
thought. 

3)  The   supplementing   of  monistic  positivism  is  more  compli- 
cated, but  may  be  expressed  thus  :   (a)  As  we  understand  Dr.  Cams, 
the  elements  of  feeling,  being  at  least  potentially  present  in  the  ob- 
jective world,  such  may  at  anytime  develop  into  the  subject.   There 
is  a  timal  difficulty  here  again.      Inasmuch  as,  at  all  events,  the  be- 


THE   SUBJECTIVE  AND  OBJECTIVE  RELATION.  225 

fore  and  after  of  this  development  of  potentiality  have  to  be  reckoned 
with.  A  time  when  developed  subjectivity  faces  objectivity  has  to 
be  defined  apart  from  a  time  when  it  did  not.  Here  again  is  an 
impasse.  What  factor  introduced  causes  this  change  ?  Auto-monism, 
identifying  subject  and  object  by  including  them  in  a  synthesis, 
whereby  the  relation  between  them  is  only  set  up  in  thought,  has  no 
such  difficulties  to  face.  Subject  and  object  are  coterminous,  neither 
before  nor  after  the  other,  now  and  always.  Further,  (<£)  the  auto- 
monistic  synthesis  is  the  only  universal  one,  as  no  outside  world  of 
things  can  possibly  differ  from  the  inside  representation — there  being 
no  outside  possible  for  the  auto-monistic  consciousness.  Other  selves 
are  not  outside;  they,  with  their  respective  "ejects,"  are  part  of 
my  individual  self.  No  appulse,  or  outside  stimulus,  is  really  think- 
able, as  external.  It  is  part  of  the  cosmos  which,  spider-like,  I  spin 
from  my  internal  self.  And,  when  I  image  such  externality,  I  but 
create  it. 

To  put  the  foregoing  in  a  nut-shell.  The  inexpugnable  /  of 
consciousness,  guaranteed  to  us  by  the  necessity  of  thought,  is,  in 
the  systems  of  dualism  and  transcendental  monism,  to  be  found  in 
part  only  of  the  universe  ;  with  the  monistic  positivist  this  /  (the 
creation  of  circumstance  and  groupings)  is  anywhere  in  the  universe. 
Auto-monism  reveals  the  self-same  /  as  everywhere  in  the  universe. 

The  theories  and  concepts  of  modern  physics  are  a  budget  of 
paradoxes  minus  a  something  in  which  they  may  consistently  inhere. 
Hume's  need  of  an  individual  and  simple  something,  as  a  link  be- 
tween isolated  impressions,  is  also  a  latter-day  need.  An  atomic 
theory,  with  the  subject  contra  object  theory  prolonged  into  it,  is  a 
tissue  of  contradictions.  The  push  and  pull  of  particles  flatly  con- 
tradicts the  axiom  that  nothing  can  move,  except  in  the  place  where 
it  is.  The  stimulus  theory  of  vibration  needs  a  similar  stimulus  be- 
hind, and  stimuli  behind  that  again,  in  endless  regress,  if  it  is  to 
advance  a  step  beyond  the  purely  hypothetical — "a  convenient 
representation  of  the  unknown."  All  this  resolves  at  once  on  the 
"open  sesame!"  of  auto-monism.  Atom,  vibration,  undulation, 
mutual  attraction — all  these  are  not,  save  as  I  shape  them,  and,  in 
the  last  recess  of  philosophy,  as  in  the  extreme  limit  of  physics,  / 


226  THE  MONIST. 

am,  and  there  is  none  else.     "The  cosmic  systole  and  diastole  are  one 
with  the  pulsing  throb  of  my  own  egoity. " 

But,  apart  from  the  hypothetical  bases  of  physics,  there  is  to  be 
found  in  its  elementary  text-books,  a  group  of  what  may  be  termed 
sub-surface  facts — totally  irreconcilable  with  any  other  rationale  than 
an  auto-monistic  one.  As  they  are  perfectly  familiar  to  the  ordi- 
nary student,  to  mention  them  will  suffice.  There  is  the  inversion 
of  the  retinal  image,  which,  notwithstanding  Kepler's  rationale,  and 
some  more  recent  explanations,  would  be  perfectly  inexplicable — 
as  much  so  as  a  thing  being  and  not  being  at  the  same  time — did 
we  not  recognise  that  the  thing  seen  is  as  it  is  seen,  and  not  other- 
wise, and  that  any  subsequent  positing  of  it,  as  existing  differently, 
is  only  a  secondary,  not  a  primary,  process.  That  the  one  is  object, 
the  other,  as  it  were,  "eject,"  or,  to  put  it  still  more  plainly,  that 
the  contradictory  image  stands  in  the  same  category  as  the  imagined 
"difficulty."  Then  there  is  the  "projection,"  as  it  is  called,  of  sub- 
jective facts  into  the  so-called  "  external"  world.  Were  this  pro- 
jection an  actual  primary  fact,  and  not  a  secondary  inference,  no 
ingenuity  could  prevent  the  conclusion,  that  the  thing,  wherever  or 
whatever  it  is,  exists  doubly  ;  first,  as  it  exists  internally,  and,  sec- 
ond, as  it  is  projected  externally — nor  could  the  difficulty  be  got 
over  by  the  use  of  such  metaphors  as  the  substance  and  its  shadow 
or  reflexion.  In  a  philosophical  sense,  the  shadow  is  as  veritable 
an  existence  as  the  substance,  both  being  real.  But  "  internal  "  and 
"external"  signifying  the  same  in  auto-monism,  no  difficulty  exists. 
The  use  of  these  terms  should  be  carefully  defined.  In  the  crude 
sense  of  dualism,  "internal  and  external "  are  fictions  responsible 
for  most,  if  not  all,  of  the  "blind  alleys"  of  modern  physics.  Their 
existence  as  stumbling  blocks  should,  and  doubtless  will,  pave  the 
way-for  a  theory  which  disposes  of  them  by  reduction  of  all  such 
ideas  to  their  rational  level.  If  the  "outside,"  or  objective,  world 
of  things  really  existed,  fronting  the  percipient,  would  not  the  rods 
and  cones  of  the  bacillary  layer  of  the  retina — those  prime  factors  of 
vision — be  directed,  like  a  series  of  telescopes,  towards  this  supposed 
object?  As  a  matter  of  fact,  they  point  quite  the  other  way,  viz., 
downwards  and  backwards!  All  retinal  impressions  are  "referred  " 


THE   SUBJECTIVE  AND  OBJECTIVE   RELATION.  227 

to  a  position  vertically  opposite  to  the  point  of  irritation — vertically 
opposite,  and  outside  the  body.  Why  is  this?  Is  it  because  they 
really  exist  there,  externally?  Scarcely,  except  in  thought, — other- 
wise the  phosphene,  a  luminous  image  produced  by  pressure  on  the 
eyeball,  and  similarly  referred  to  an  outside  position,  exists  there 
also.  And  if  not  in  the  latter  case,  why  not  ?  The  very  hornbooks 
of  physical  science  abound  in  these  puzzles,  born  of  the  subject  con- 
tra object  delusion,  and  to  be  solved  only  by  means  of  auto-monistic 
reasoning. 

In  this  system,  in  contrast  with  all  of  the  foregoing  aspects,  the 
subject- object  relation  is  neither  accidental  nor  temporary,  but  is 
permanent  and  universal.  The  proper  aspect  of  relational  terms  is 
preserved,  not  obliterated.  The  aspect  is  always  that  of  actuality — 
never  of  mere  potentiality — each  term  of  the  relation  being  cotermi- 
nous. The  unity  of  the  terms  is  guaranteed  by  their  interdepen- 
dence upon  each  other,  the  object  implying  the  subject,  and  vice 
versa.  And  the  relational  unity,  being  internal,  is  complete,  any 
external  relationship  of  the  auto-cosm  being  impossible  in  thought. 

G.  M.  McCRiE. 


MONISM  AND  HENISM 

WITH  SPECIAL  REFERENCE  TO  DR.  R.  LEWINS'S  AND 
MR.  LESTER  F.  WARD'S  MONISTIC  THEORIES. 

THE  terms  monism  and  dualism  are  not  yet  two  centuries  old  ; 
the  former  was  invented  by  Christian  Wolff  as  a  contrast  to 
the  latter,  which,  according  to  Eucken,  appears  first  in  Thomas 
Hyde's  book  "Historia  Religionis  Veterum  Persarum,"  1700,  as  a 
designation  of  Zoroaster's  religion.  In  the  same  sense,  dualism  is 
used  by  Bayle  and  Leibnitz.  But  Wolff  applies  the  term  generally  to 
any  theory  that  reduces  existence  to  two  independent  substances, 
while  monism  to  him  is  that  doctrine  which  takes  the  unity  of  ex- 
istence for  granted.  Wolff  rejects  monism  and  classes  himself  among 
the  dualists. 

The  word  monism  dropped  out  of  use  until  Hegel  adopted  the 
term  to  characterise  his  system.  It  was  again  forgotten  when  Hegel's 
influence  subsided,  only  to  be  reintroduced  by  Darwinians  like 
Haeckel  and  a  constantly  increasing  class  of  philosophers,  who  be- 
lieve in  the  unity  of  being  and  reject  supernaturalism  of  every  form. 

In  the  meantime  we  have  discovered  that  monism  is  a  very  old 
theory,  that,  for  instance,  Spinoza  is  a  very  strong  monist,  and  that 
monism,  indeed,  is  the  aim  and  ideal  of  all  philosophising.  At  pres- 
ent almost  every  philosopher  claims  to  be  a  monist :  spiritualists 
like  Carl  Du  Prell,  materialists  like  Ludwig  Biichner,  and  agnostics 
like  Herbert  Spencer.  Professor  Veitch  of  Glasgow  is  one  of  the 
few  exceptions  who  openly  confess  themselves  dualists.  Even  the- 
ologians yield  to  the  need  of  unity  in  thought,  which  so  powerfully 
asserts  itself  ;  and  it  is  becoming  more  and  more  apparent  that  all 


MONISM  AND  HENISM. 

the  old  orthodox  ecclesiastical  philosophers,  such  as  Augustine  and 
Thomas  Aquinas,  were  monists,  in  the  sense  that  they  really  endeav- 
ored to  view  the  world  as  a  unity.  The  dualistic  schoolmen  were  al- 
ways among  the  opposition,  and  their  systems  found  little  favor  with 
the  official  representatives  of  church-traditions.  The  sway  of  monism 
is  so  strong  that  we  might  almost  say.  the  issue  is  no  longer  between 
dualism  and  monism,  but  between  the  various  forms  of  monism. 
Our  philosophers  have,  upon  the  whole,  acquiesced  in  the  convic- 
tion that  a  unitary  view  of  existence  must  be  reached  ;  the  question 
alone  remains  how  we  are  to  realise  oneness  and  where  we  shall  place 
the  centre  that  is  to  give  character  to  our  philosophical  systems. 

What  is  monism? 

Webster  defines  monism  very  inadequately  as  : 

"That  doctrine  which  refers  all  phenomena  to  a  single  ultimate  constituent  or 
agent." 

The  definition  of  the  Century  Dictionary  is  more  involved  but 
not  better  : 

' '  Any  system  of  thought  which  seeks  to  deduce  all  the  varied  phenomena  of 
both  the  physical  and  spiritual  worlds  from  a  single  principle  ;  specifically,  the 
metaphysical  doctrine  that  there  is  but  one  substance,  either  mind  (idealism)  or 
matter  (materialism),  or  a  substance  that  is  neither  mind  nor  matter,  but  is  the  sub- 
stantial ground  of  both." 

There  are,  accordingly,  two  kinds  of  monism.  Some  understand 
by  it  a  one-substance  theory  ;  again,  others,  like  Mr.  Lester  F.  Ward, 
say  that  "the  term  monistic  implies  a  single  principle."  Not  satis- 
fied with  any  of  these  formulations  we  propose  the  following  defini- 
tion, which  will  probably  be  acceptable  to  all  monists  : 

"Monism  is  a  unitary  world-conception." 

Whether  or  not  the  world-substance  is  one  and  the  same  through- 
out, is  not  a  philosophical,  but  a  physico-chemical,  problem.  We  be- 
lieve that  it  is  one  and  the  same,  but  should  not  recommend  a  state- 
ment, the  truth  of  which  must  be  decided  by  the  investigations  of  the 
special  sciences,  as  a  basis  upon  which  to  found  a  philosophical  sys- 
tem. Whether  or  not  there  are  agents  or  ultimate  constituents  of 
reality  which  have  to  be  regarded  as  distinct  from  their  actions,  is  a 
metaphysical  question  into  which  we  cannot  enter  here.  Suffice  it  to 


230  THE  MONIST. 

say  that  their  assumption  is  of  no  use,  and  far  from  constituting  a 
monistic  view  would  imply  an  irredeemable  duality  in  the  system  of 
the  world.  Whether  or  not  everything  can  be  reduced  to  a  single 
principle  is,  to  say  the  least,  very  doubtful. 

If  monism  were  not  a  more  comprehensive  term  than  its  defini- 
tions as  a  one-substance  theory,  a  one-principle  doctrine,  or  a  one- 
agent  hypothesis  imply,  it  would  scarcely  exercise  so  great  a  fascina- 
tion upon  minds  of  such  various  dispositions  and  contradictory 
convictions  as  it  has. 

In  defining  monism  as  a  unitary  world-conception,  our  intention 
is  to  make  prominent  that  feature  of  it  which  appeals  so  powerfully 
to  all  thinkers.  Monism,  or  a  unitary  system  of  thought,  is  the  uni- 
versal ideal  of  philosophy.  Monism,  in  a  word,  means  consistency. 

It  is  incompatible  with  the  nature  of  thought  to  accept  at  the  same 
time  two  contradictory  ideas  as  true.  There  is  a  oneness  about  truth 
which  admits  of  no  equivocation.  There  may  be  two  or  more  truths 
which  differ  from  one  another,  but  there  cannot  be  two  truths  which 
contradict  each  other.  When  confronted  with  two  well-ascertained 
statements  that  do  not,  on  their  face,  agree,  we  stand  before  a  prob- 
lem, which  is  solved  only  when  we  effect  an  agreement.  It  may  be, 
that  either  the  one  or  the  other,  or  both,  represents  only  a  partial 
truth.  Although  not  wrong,  each  statement,  by  itself,  may  be  imper- 
fect, and  the  complete  truth  may  appear  only  in  their  combination. 

A  thinker  cannot  help  searching  for  unity  of  thought,  and  this, 
we  should  say,  is  the  subjective  condition  of  monism.  Moreover, 
man's  yearning  for  a  unitary  world-conception  is  fully  justified  ;  for 
science  itself  is  nothing  but  the  endeavor  of  unifying  knowledge. 
The  very  nature  of  scientific  problems,  in  fact,  may  be  characterised 
as  an  inability  of  ours  to  comprehend  two  different  facts  under  a 
single  formula.  Every  solution  of  a  problem  represents  a  triumph  of 
monism.  Our  ability  of  viewing  two  apparently  heterogeneous  sets 
of  phenomena  as  actuated  by  the  same  law  under  different  conditions 
is  an  evidence  in  favor  of  the  hypothesis  that  the  actions  which  take 
place  in  the  world  of  objective  existence  exhibit  the  same  consistency 
which  our  mind  naturally  expects  them  to  possess. 

Monism,  in  this  sense,  is  the  ideal  of  all  philosophies,  and  dual- 


MONISM  AND  HENISM.  23! 

ism  is  nothing  but  a  frankly  acknowledged  despair  of  ever  estab- 
lishing a  unitary  view  of  existence.  Dualism  is  always,  or  in  the 
end  must  lead  to,  either  agnosticism  or  mysticism,  for  dualism  is 
equivalent  to  a  confession  that  we  are,  and  shall  always  remain,  in- 
competent to  reach  a  consistent  conception  of  ourselves  and  of  the 
world  in  which  we  live.  Problems  are  considered  as  unsolvable  or 
inexplicable. 

The  monistic  ideal  of  a  unitary  conception  of  the  world  has 
been  constantly  corroborated  by  the  progress  of  science.  We  are 
far  from  maintaining  that  all  problems  have  been  solved,  but  we  de- 
clare that  wherever  science  has  made  indubitable  progress,  such 
progress  has  consisted  in  some  further  realisation  of  monism  ;  and 
we  cannot  even  conceive  of  an  advancement  of  science  that  should 
be  of  a  different  nature.  Whenever  a  scientific  discovery  seems  to 
point  towards  a  dualistic  world-conception,  it  must  be  regarded  as 
an  unsolved  problem,  until  the  dualism  is  overcome.  Monism  is 
different  from  other  philosophical  views  in  so  far  as  it  is  not  so  much 
a  finished  system,  as  a  systematic  plan  constantly  admitting  of  im- 
provement, of  corrections,  additions,  and  perfections.  It  is  the  so- 
lution of  certain  fundamental  problems  of  a  general  character  em- 
ployed as  a  method  for  further  inquiry  into  questions  of  detail. 

Dualism  has  been,  and  is  still,  very  strong  ;  for  it  has  a  natural 
basis  :  It  rests  upon  the  observation  of  the  difference  that  undoubt- 
edly obtains  between  mind  and  matter,  soul  and  body,  spirituality 
and  sense- experience.  But  the  mere  recognition  of  these  differ- 
ences, in  itself,  does  not  constitute  dualism.  If  it  did,  our  own  view 
would  have  to  be  classed  as  dualism.  On  the  contrary,  dualism,  as 
we  understand  it,  is  the  surrender,  as  hopeless,  of  all  attempts  to 
conceive  body  and  soul  as  an  intrinsic  unity.  Recognising  the 
heterogeneity  of  spirit  and  matter,  dualism  jumps  at  the  conclusion 
that  they  must  be  regarded  as  distinct  entities,  which  by  combina- 
tion produce  our  existence,  such  as  it  is. 

Dualists  are  rash,  but  there  are  monists  who  outdo  them  in  the 
acceptance  of  unwarranted  conclusions.  Many  monistic  thinkers,  in 
their  eagerness  to  reach  a  unitary  conception,  simply  drop  either 
body  or  soul,  matter  or  mind,  spirituality  or  sense-experience  and 


232  THE   MONIST. 

deny  its  reality.  They  are  satisfied  with  a  one-sided  unity  reached  by 
shutting  their  eyes  to  everything  that  threatens  to  introduce  duality. 

Yet,  whatever  their  claims,  doctrines  whose  unity  of  conception 
is  due  to  a  limitation  of  thought  to  a  single  aspect  of  the  world,  can- 
not be  classed  as  monism  ;  they  are  pseudo-monistic,  and  to  distin- 
guish them  from  true  monism,  we  propose  to  call  them  henisms,  or 
single-concept  theories. 

There  are  mainly  two  kinds  of  henism  ;  the  one  which  eliminates 
the  reality  of  mind  is  called  materialism,  and  the  other  which  elim- 
inates the  reality  of  matter  is  called  spiritualism.  Yet  as  there  are 
many  dualisms,  so  there  are  many  henisms,  which  approach  with 
varying  degrees  the  common  ideal  of  a  true  monism. 

The  unity  of  henism  is  not  genuine,  but  artificial ;  and  it  is  ob- 
tained by  wrong  methods.  The  monistic  ideal  of  henists  is  concep- 
tual, not  real.  They  take  one  idea,  be  it  spirit  or  matter  or  the  un- 
knowable, and  make  it  embrace  everything  that  exists,  or  reduce  all 
events  to  mere  properties  or  functions  of  this  all-sufficient  substance. 

The  present  number  of  The  Monist  contains  three  articles  by 
prominent  thinkers  with  whom  we  agree  in  the  rejection  of  dualism 
without  being  able  to  adopt  their  formulation  of  monism.  I  will  not 
positively  say  that  their  views  should  be  called  henism  and  branded 
as  pseudo-monism,  but  I  find  great  difficulty  in  tracing  in  their 
terms  and  views  the  consistency  that  is  needed  to  establish  a  truly 
monistic  philosophy.  Their  monism,  if  it  be  monism,  is  not  unequi- 
vocally expressed,  and  a  reader  *is  apt  to  misconstrue  their  inten- 
tions. 

It  is  natural  that  the  following  remarks,  which  present  our  rea- 
sons for  disagreeing  with  Mr.  Lester  F.  Ward's  and  Dr.  Robert 
Lewins's  monistic  views,  will  appear  in  the  shape  of  criticisms. 
They  are,  however,  written  in  the  hope  that  the  intentions  of  these 
authors  agree  better  with  my  propositions  than  their  words.  Nor  is 
it  necessary  to  add  that  a  difference  of  opinion  does  not  prevent  us 

from  recognising  the  great  abilities  of  our  esteemed  contributors. 

* 
*  * 

Mr.  Lester  F.  Ward  promises  in  the  title  of  his  article  "  a  mo- 
nistic theory  of  the  mind";  he  comes  to  the  conclusion  that  "  mind 


MONISM  AND  HENISM.  233 

is  a  property  of  body,"  and  claims  that  this  is  "the  only  scientific 
theory  of  mind."  With  all  deference  to  the  scholarly  accomplish- 
ments of  Mr.  Ward,  I  cannot  discover  that  he  has  either  redeemed 
his  promise  and  proved  his  conclusion,  or  made  good  his  claim. 
Indeed,  the  subject  of  his  title  is  scarcely  touched  upon.  Mr.  Ward 
speaks  of  matter  and  its  functions,  of  organisation,  of  protoplasm 
and  its  qualities.  He  quotes  some  interesting  passages  on  recent 
physiological  discoveries  and  shows  us  two  diagrams  of  Ramon  y 
Cajal ;  but  nowhere  does  he  give  us  an  explanation  or  description  of 
mind,  and  we  remain  quite  ignorant  of  how  it  is  possible  that  matter 
can  have  such  a  wonderful  property  as  mind. 

Mr.  Ward's  method  is  not  scientific,  but  dogmatic.  He  does 
not  start  from  the  facts  given  us  in  experience,  but  constructs  a 
theory.  He  begins  with  an  assumption,  saying,  "If  the  existence 
of  matter  be  granted";  he  then  declares  that  "matter  is  only  known 
by  its  effects,  which  are  due  to  its  motions";  he  defines  "sub- 
stances" as  "the  products  of  unions  of  the  elements  of  matter," 
and  calls  their  modes  of  producing  effects  "properties."  He  then 
proceeds  to  maintain  that  "the  phenomena  of  mind  stand  in  the 
same  relation  to  the  brain  and  nervous  system  that  all  other  phe- 
nomena stand  to  the  substances  that  manifest  them — in  a  word, 
mind  is  a  property  of  the  organised  body."  Mr.  Ward  furthermore 
states  a  number  of  laws  which  are  bald  assertions,  not  only  devoid 
of  proof,  but  even,  at  least  so  it  appears  to  us,  very  doubtful.  He 
says : 

"  The  properties  of  substances  are  more  active  in  proportion  as  their  molecu- 
lar constitution  is  more  complex," 

and 

"  Increase  in  complexity  is  accompanied  by  decrease  in  stability." 
These  laws,  if  laws  they  can  be  called,  are  correct  within  certain 
limits  ;  but  they  are  serviceable  for  important  deductions  only,  if 
they  can  be  proved  to  hold  good  without  exception.  This,  unfor- 
tunately, is  not  the  case  ;  for  chemists  know  of  very  complex  sub- 
stances which  are  extremely  inert,  while  some  of  the  simplest  com- 
binations are  wonderfully  active.  Is  not  the  element  oxygen  one  of 
the  most  active  substances  known  ? 


234  THE 

Prof.  Lothar  Meyer,  in  his  well-known  work,  "The  Modern 
Theories  of  Chemistry,"  while  speaking  in  the  last  chapter  but  one 
of  the  stability  of  chemical  combinations,  incidentally  mentions  the 
instability  of  complex  combinations.  He  adds  : 

' '  But  it  often  happens  that  a  simpler  degree  of  combination,  which  is  more 
stable  than  a  higher  with  respect  to  one  agent,  as  heat,  is  less  stable  than  the  higher 
with  respect  to  some  other  agent.  Thus,  for  example,  tungsten  pentachloride  is  less 
stable  when  exposed  to  moist  air  than  the  hexachloride  ;  the  nitrites  which  are  pro- 
duced by  heat  from  nitrates  with  loss  of  oxygen  are  less  stable  with  respect  to 
chemical  reagents  than  the  nitrates  are.  The  same  is  true  of  sulphites  in  relation  to 
sulphates,"  etc. — Translated  from  the  eighth  edition  (1884),  p.  609. 

However  probable  these  laws  appear  a  priori,  they  are  a  pos- 
teriori, at  least  in  the  shape  presented  by  Mr.  Ward,  and  for  his  pur- 
pose, untenable.  But  suppose  they  were  true,  of  what  avail  would 
they  be  for  an  explanation  of  mind  ?  Can  mind  be  explained  from 
the  instability  of  highly  complex  chemicals? 

Mr.  Lester  F.  Ward's  laws  remind  us  of  Mr.  Spencer's  formula 
of  progress.  He  says  : 

"Progress  is  a  passage  from  a  homogeneous  to  a  heterogeneous  state.  It  is  a 
continually  increasing  disintegration  of  the  whole  mass,  accompanied  by  an  integra- 
tion, a  differentiation,  and  a  mutual,  perpetually-increasing  dependence  of  parts  as 
well  as  of  functions,  and  by  a  tendency  to  equilibrium  in  the  functions  of  the  parts 
integrated." 

Complexity  may  frequently  be  an  accompaniment  of  progress, 
but  it  most  certainly  does  not  constitute  progress.  There  are  even 
instances  in  which  a  passage  to  greater  simplicity  is  an  infallible 
symptom  of  progress.  Would  not  an  inventor  feel  sure  of  having 
made  great  progress  in  the  construction  of  a  piece  of  machinery,  if 
he  should  find  a  contrivance  for  simplifying  one  of  its  parts,  so  that 
he  could  accomplish  the  same  result  with  fewer  wheels  and  cranks  ? 
Progress  can,  as  little  as  spontaneous  activity  and  awareness,  be  ex- 
plained by  an  increase  of  complexity,  for,  indeed,  there  are  or  may  be 
infinitely  more  complex  processes  than  brain-motions  which  do  not 
produce  mind,  and  I  cannot  understand  how  Mr.  Ward  can  so  con- 
fidently "predict  higher  properties  from  higher  degrees  of  aggrega- 
tion." 

All  these  so-called  "laws"  of  Mr.  Spencer's  and  Mr.  Ward's  in- 


MONISM  AND   HENISM.  235 

vention  labor  under  the  error  of  attempting  to  explain  mind  from 
matter  and  motion.  We  might  as  well  attempt  to  explain  the  na- 
ture of  logarithms  from  the  rags  that  were  manufactured  into  the 
paper  upon  which  Vega's  tables  are  printed  !  * 

The  complexity  of  molecular  aggregation,  according  to  Mr. 
Ward,  is  limited ;  he  says  : 

' '  Molecular  aggregation  or  chemical  organisation  could  not  in  the  nature  of 
things  go  farther  than  the  production  of  protoplasm.  This  substance  already  over- 
steps the  limits  of  molecular  activity  and  trenches  on  the  domain  of  molar  motion. 
If  matter  is  to  produce  any  wider  effects  it  must  be  through  the  organisation  of  pro- 
toplasmic bodies." 

Granted  that  it  does,  we  cannot  see  that  "it  must";  Mr.  Ward 
certainly  does  not  prove  it,  but  is  satisfied  with  the  mere  assertion. 

He  further  declares  that  "with  increase  of  brain  there  is  a  con- 
stant increase  in  the  mind-element  or  psychic  property."  If  that 
were  so,  why  is  the  elephant  not  cleverer  than  man?  The  theory 
that  a  greater  mass  of  brain  indicates  a  superior  mind  has  long  since 
been  given  up  by  physiology. 

We  do  not  deny  Ramon  y  CajaPs  statement,  that  "the  human 
brain  owes  in  a  great  measure  the  superiority  of  its  activity,  not  only 
to  the  considerable  number  of  its  elements,  but  especially  to  the  ex- 
traordinary richness  of  its  means  of  association. "  Indeed,  it  is  an  old 
truism  which  has  been  repeated  these  last  fifty  or  even  one  hundred 
years  in  almost  every  text-book,  but  it  does  not  explain  either  mind 
or  the  origin  of  mind.  If  that  were  the  gist  of  our  latest  discoveries 
in  physiology,  we  might  as  well  abandon  all  further  study  of  its  pro- 
gress. 

After  his  excursion  into  the  field  of  physiology,  Mr.  Ward  comes 
back  to  the  assertion  from  which  he  started,  that  mind  is  a  property 
of  matter. 

This  is  not  monism,  but  henism  ;  and,  as  in  all  henistic  concep- 

*  Having  discussed  the  problem  of  mind  and  also  of  progress  on  other  occa- 
sions, I  need  not  enter  here  into  further  details.  See  "The  Origin  of  Mind,"  in 
The  Soul  of  Man  ;  The  Monist,  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  89-90  and  p.  236  ;  "The  Test  of  Pro- 
gress," in  Homilies  of  Science,  pp.  36-42.  Compare  also  the  chapter  "  Signification 
des  etats  de  conscience  et  telepathic  de  1'ame, "  in  the  author's  Le probleme  de  la  con- 
science de  moi.  Paris :  Felix  Alcan,  1893.  The  latter  is  not  yet  published  in  English. 


236  THE  MONIST. 

tions,  so  here  also  a  palpable  dualism  lurks.  Mr.  Ward  declares 
that  "the  antithesis  between  matter  and  property  is  absolute."  He 
concludes  his  article  with  a  puzzle ;  he  says  : 

' '  Turn  it  as  you  will,  twist  it  as  you  may,  matter  can  only  be  affected  by  mat- 
ter, and  the  impact  of  moving  matter  against  other  matter  is,  in  the  last  analysis, 
the  essence  of  force.  And  this  is  true  of  the  method  which  mind  itself  employs. 
Thought  and  feeling,  in  and  of  themselves,  are  powerless,  nay,  they  are  nil." 

If  mind  is  a  property  of  matter,  and  if  properties  of  matter  are 
modes  of  motion,  as  Mr.  Ward  stated  in  the  beginning  of  his  article, 
thought  and  feeling  must,  according  to  Barbara,  which  is  the  most 
conclusive  figure  of  logical  syllogisms,  also  be  regarded  as  modes  of 
motion.  How  can  he  call  them  " powerless ", and  "nil"?  Can  mo- 
tions be  powerless? 

Mr.  Lester  F.  Ward  continues  : 

"They  [i.  e.  thought  and  feeling]  can  only  act  through  a  motor  system  which 
uniformly  and  necessarily  accompanies  the  sensor  system,  which  transfers  molecu- 
lar nerve-vibrations  to  the  muscles,  transforms  them  into  muscular  movements,  and 
communicates  them  mechanically  to  the  world  without." 

I  must  be  much  mistaken  in  Mr.  Lester  F.  Ward's  view,  but 
the  tendency  of  the  whole  article  seems  to  me  to  convey  the  idea  that 
mind  is  an  extremely  complex  mode  of  motion  of  matter.  The  last 
quoted  passage  seems  to  indicate  that  thought  and  feeling  are  some- 
thing that  is  neither  matter  nor  motion.  Mind,  we  are  told,  cannot 
act  on  matter,  because,  being  a  property,  it  is  immaterial.  Yet  mo- 
tion, although  also  a  property,  and,  as  such,  also  immaterial,  is  said 
to  affect  matter,  and  at  the  same  time,  we  are  informed,  motion  is 
affected  by  mind.  The  nervous  motor  system,  accordingly,  would 
have  to  be  regarded  as  a  mediator  between  mind  and  the  material 
world. 

We  confess  our  inability  to  understand  this  so-called  monistic 

theory. 

* 

>J<  ^ 

Dr.  Robert  Lewins  is  the  founder  of  a  system  called  hylo  ideal- 
ism, or  auto-monism,  which  has  found  enthusiastic  supporters  in  the 
late  and  much-lamented  Miss  Constance  Naden,  and  in  Mr.  George 
M.  McCrie.  Hylo-idealism  carries  idealism  and  materialism  to  their 


MONISM  AND  HENISM.  237 

utmost  extremes  and  places  them  side  by  side  ;  yet  its  upholders 
have  not  succeeded  in  showing  to  the  world  how  the  contradictions 
of  these  two  systems  should  be  reconciled.  Dr.  Lewins  maintains 
in  the  present  number  the  unity  of  thought  and  thing ;  and  auto- 
monism,  which  is  but  another  name  for  hylo-idealism,  is  repre- 
sented by  Mr.  McCrie,  in  the  article,  "The  Subjective  and  Objective 
Relation." 

We  agree  with  Dr.  Lewins's  position,  if  he  means  that  the  soul 
is  coextensive  with  its  conception  of  the  world  ;  that  it  is  creator 
and  creation  ;  and  we  call  attention  to  the  curious  coincidence  that 
a  Buddhist  priest  expresses  the  same  view  in  an  article  that  also 
appears  in  the  present  number  of  The  Monist  (see  pp.  163-174). 
This  identity  of  the  soul  with  its  own  representations,  seems  to  be 
the  auto-monism  which  Miss  Naden  held.  She  says  : 

' '  What  we  know  as  the  external  world  is  composed  of  colors,  sounds,  tastes, 
touches,  and  odors  ;  and  since  there  can  have  been  no  existence  prior  to  their  birth 
in  the  sensory  ganglia,  we  see  clearly  that  every  man  is  the  maker  of  his  own 
cosmos." 

This  cosmos,  viz.,  everybody's  own  cosmos,  Miss  Naden  says, 
in  the  quotation  adduced  by  Mr.  McCrie,  originates,  grows,  decays, 
and  dies.  Now  we  ask,  what  is  that  from  which  it  grows  and  into 
which  it  dissolves?  Dr.  Lewins  boldly  declares  that  there  is  nothing 
beyond  our  self.  We  freely  grant  that  there  cannot  be  anything  in 
self,  except  it  be  a  part  of  self ;  but  who  will  for  that  reason  deny 
the  existence  of  the  world  as  parts  of  which  we,  all  of  us,  including 
Dr.  Lewins  and  Mr.  McCrie,  in  spite  of  their  theories,  feel  our- 
selves. Mr.  McCrie  is  very  explicit  in  stating  that  the  ego,  our  in- 
dividual self,  is  coextensive  with  the  outside  world.  He  says  : 

"  Subject  and  object  are  coterminous,  neither  before  nor  after  the  other,  now 
and  always. 

"Other  selves  are  not  outside  ;  they,  with  their  respective  'ejects,'  are  part  of 
my  individual  self.  No  appulse,  or  outside  stimulus,  is  really  thinkable,  as  external. 
It  is  part  of  the  cosmos,  which,  spider-like,  I  spin  from  my  internal  self.  And, 
when  I  image  such  externality,  I  but  create  it. 

Whether  I  misapprehend  Dr.  Lewins's  meaning  is  difficult  to 
say.  There  may  be  a  difference  in  our  definitions  of  self  and  world. 


238  THE  MONIST. 

At  any  rate,  it  is  strange  that  my  monism  does  not  surrender  the 
cosmos  for  the  sake  of  self,  but  on  the  contrary,  self  for  the  sake  of 
the  cosmos.  I  agree  with  our  Buddhist  friends  that  the  great  All, 
the  world,  or  God,  alone  exists  :  our  individual  self  is  an  illusion.  My 
religion,  accordingly,  would  not  be  "a  Narcissus-like  self- worship," 
but  a  self -extinction,  so  that  the  truth  alone  should  prevail.  I  have 
given  a  condensed  statement  of  this  view,  which  may  appear  to 
many  as  a  modernised  conception  of  Nirvana,  in  the  November 
Forum,  from  which  I  quote  : 

"  The  human  soul  consists  of  two  elements,  self  and  truth.  Self  is  the  egotist- 
ical desire  of  being  some  independent  little  deity,  and  truth  is  the  religious  longing 
for  making  our  soul  a  dwelling-place  of  God.  The  existence  of  self  is  an  illusion  ; 
and  there  is  no  wrong  in  this  world,  no  vice,  no  sin  except  what  flows  from  the  as- 
sertion of  self.  There  is  but  one  religion,  the  religion  of  truth.  There  is  but  one 
piety,  it  is  the  love  of  truth.  There  is  but  one  morality,  it  is  the  earnest  desire  of 
leading  a  life  of  truth.  And  the  religion  of  the  future  can  be  only  the  Religion  of 
Truth." 

It  is  not  impossible  that  Mr.  McCrie's  words  "  /  is  everywhere 
in  the  universe  "  must  be  construed  to  mean  essentially  the  same  as 
when  I  say  that  self  must  be  recognised  as  an  illusion.  But,  grant- 
ing that  there  is  an  agreement  in  meaning,  we  are  justified,  we  think, 
in  complaining  of  the  inappropriate  and  misleading  terminology  of 
auto-monism. 

In  order  to  attain  to  a  true  monism,  i.  e. ,  a  unitary  and  con- 
sistent world-conception,  we  should  bear  in  mind  the  following 
maxims  : 

(i)  Knowledge  is  a  description  of  facts  which  in  their  oneness 
are  called  reality  ;  (2)  ideas  are  abstracts  describing  certain  features 
of  reality,  omitting  all  others;  and  (3)  the  reality  from  which  we 
derive  our  notions  is  one  inseparable  whole. 

The  facts  from  which  we  start  are  the  sensations  of  our  experi- 
ence. All  the  knowledge  possessed  by  human  beings  is  due  to  anal- 
ysis and  renewed  synthesis  of  our  sensations.  Every  one,  as  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Ashitsu  and  with  him  Dr.  Lewins,  Miss  Naden,  and  Mr.  McCrie 
say,  creates  the  world  in  which  he  lives.  The  objects  which  we  see, 
the  things  which  we  think  are  parts  of  our  own  being,  for  our  soul 


MONISM  AND  HENISM.  239 

consists  of  these  images  and  representations.  What  Schopenhauer 
calls  "die  Welt  als  Vorstellung"  is  not  a  possession  of  our  soul  but 
an  actual  part  of  our  soul.  Our  soul  is  the  product  of  a  develop- 
ment rising  out  of  reactive  sentiency.  The  reactions  change  into  im- 
pulses, the  feelings  into  images  ;  and  when  the  images  develop  into 
ideas,  under  their  guiding  influence  the  impulses  become  conscious 
will.  Thus  a  spiritual  world  naturally  springs  up  above  the  material 
world,  and  there  would  be  no  objection  to  calling  it  supernatural,  if 
we  could  but  exclude  the  old  dualistic  notion  that  the  supernatural 
is  imported  into  the  natural  world  from  without,  and  that  man  is  a 
combination  of  both,  so  that  the  supernatural  could  exist  independ- 
ently of  its  natural  basis. 

Idealism,  in  teaching  that  every  soul  creates  its  own  world,  is 
perfectly  legitimate,  but  it  shoots  beyond  the  mark  when  it  requests 
us  to  believe  that  our  subjective  existence  is  all  there  is,  that  the  ob- 
jects of  our  experience,  i.  e.,  the  things  indicated  in  our  ideas,  are 
merely  parts  of  our  ego  and  that  there  is  nothing  beyond. 

Suppose  we  could  systematise  our  knowledge  and  attain  to  a 
unitary  world- conception  that  would  be  satisfactory  and  free  from 
contradiction  without  belief  in  an  objective  world,  we  should  not 
hesitate  to  recommend  auto-monism  as  the  simplest  world-concep- 
tion. But  in  fact  we  cannot  think  of  ourselves  without  construing 
our  own  sensations  as  objective  things.  We  project  automatically 
the  images  on  our  retina  into  space  and  our  daily  experience  justi- 
fies our  methods  of  conceiving  objects  as  external  and  independent, 
and  of  treating  them  as  such. 

When  we  analyse  our  sensations  we  find  (i)  that  they  are  states 
of  awareness  :  they  consist  of  feelings.  (2)  That  these  feelings  are 
various  in  kind  :  they  are  feelings  of  pleasure  and  pain,  they  are 
sensations  of  the  various  senses,  and  also  conscious  states  of  abstract 
thought.  (-3)  That  the  various  forms  of  feeling  possess  various  mean- 
ings :  they  are  indicators,  each  kind  of  feeling  possessing  a  special 
significance. 

We  do  not  say,  the  world  consists  of  sensations,  but  the  facts 
immediately  given  in  our  experience  are  sensations.  Now,  when  we 
speak  of  objects  we  mean  that,  the  presence  of  which  is  indicated  by 


240  THE  MONIST. 

the  various  kinds  of  feeling.  For  instance,  the  sensation  red  is  as 
much  a  subjective  process  as  an  illusion,  but  it  indicates  the  presence 
of  a  certain  event  which  in  its  contact  with  the  retina  of  the  eye  pro- 
duces the  sensation  red.  The  sensation  hardness  indicates  the  pres- 
ence of  a  strong  resistance,  and  other  sensations  indicate  other 
presences.  Naive  realism  regards  redness  as  an  object,  while  auto- 
monism  denies  the  existence  of  any  outside  object  of  which  the  sen- 
sation redness  would  be  an  indicator.  Our  scientists  have  come  to 
the  conclusion  that  the  objective  event  which  on  the  retina  produces 
a  red  sensation  is  a  peculiar  ether-vibration. 

Mr.  McCrie  finds  a  difficulty  in  my  position.  In  his  argument 
maintaining  the  oneness  of  subject  and  object,  he  approvingly 
quotes  from  me  that  "neither  the  subject  is  given  nor  the  object, 
but  an  interaction  between  subject  and  object,"  and  adds  : 

11  The  interaction  is  not  everything.  There  is  something  which  precedes  it  in 
time.  There  is  the  ethereal  vibration. 

"  The  vibration  prior  to  sensation  is  not  represented  in  any  mind.  Is  it  objec- 
tive ?  " 

In  reply  I  have  to  state  that  the  ethereal  vibration  is  an  abstract 
notion  of  high  complexity.  It  is  a  scientific  theory  invented  to  ex- 
plain the  nature  of  light  in  agreement  with  other  facts  of  experience, 
i.  e.,  to  think  light  as  actuated  by  the  same  laws  as  other  phenomena, 
and  to  enable  us  to  predict  its  actions  under  changed  conditions. 
That  objective  process  which  we  call  by  the  word  ether-vibration, 
existed,  undoubtedly,  before  it  reached  our  eyes.  Every  reality  ex- 
ercises some  effect  upon  other  realities.  The  nature  of  reality  con- 
sists in  producing  effects  ;  and  this  producing  effects,  the  quality  of 
affecting  other  existences,  is  what  we  call  objectivity.  The  apple 
that  falls  to  the  ground  is  to  the  earth,  when  it  touches  it,  an  object, 
and  vice  versa.  Now  monism  believes  that  all  objectivity  is  at  the 
same  time,  from  its  own  standpoint,  subjectivity.  There  is  no  ob- 
ject but  in  itself  is  a  subject.  Our  subjectivity  consists  in  feeling 
and  thinking.  But  subjectivity  is  not  always  feeling,  still  less  is  it 
thinking.  It  appears  to  be  blind  and  feelingless  in  the  realm  of  in- 
organic existence,  but  it  develops  in  organised  life  awareness  and 
through  awareness  the  faculty  of  representation. 


MONISM  AND  HENISM.  24! 

Without  entering  into  the  details  of  physical  and  physiological 
investigations  concerning  light,  or  judging  of  the  reliability  of  such 
an  assumption  as  the  existence  of  ether,  we  simply  state  that  our 
method  of  describing  the  objective  world  consists  in  naming  the 
same  event,  the  same  quality,  or  the  same  relation,  met  with  in  our 
sense- experience,  with  the  same  word  ;  and  the  various  words  serve 
as  keys  which  at  once  call  up  the  various  kinds  of  memories  they 
represent. 

All  that  science  does  and  can  do  is  to  present  a  description  of 
our  experiences  in  systematic  form,  so  as  to  enable  us  to  find  our 
bearings  in  the  world  in  which  we  live.  The  world-picture  that  we 
carry  in  our  souls  is  painted  in  the  living  glow  of  sensations,  but  our 
method  of  describing  things  consists  in  representing  them  as  matter 
moving  in  a  special  way  through  space. 

It  is  a  peculiarity  of  objective  existence  that  it  cannot  be  rep- 
resented otherwise  than  as  matter  moving  in  space  ;  and  again  it  is 
a  peculiarity  of  subjective  existence  that  it  has  no  other  means  of 
representing  objects  than  as  matter  moving  in  space.  Hence  the 
materiality  of  the  world  as  it  appears  to  us,  and  hence,  also,  the  ap- 
parent materialism  of  science,  which  has  no  other  means  of  tracing 
the  processes  of  nature  than  by  representing  them  as  matter  moving 
in  space  !  But  science  only  appears  to  be  materialistic  ;  it  is  not  ma- 
terialistic, for  all  scientific  formulas  describing  the  motions  of  ma- 
terial particles  in  space  are  but  the  objective  phase  of  being  and 
have  to  be  interpreted  from  the  facts  of  our  own  subjective  existence. 
Our  soul  is  part  and  parcel  of  the  world,  and  our  spirituality  proves 
that  the  tree  whose  efflorescence  we  are,  contains  in  its  juices  all  the 
elements  of  our  nature. 

We  say  :  There  is  no  object  which  is  not  at  the  same  time  a 
subject,  but  we  do  not  say  with  Dr.  Lewins  that  our  "thought  is 
the  thing."  Monism  (as  we  understand  it)  cannot  accept  the  iden- 
tity of  thinking  and  being.  The  origin  and  growth  of  the  subjective 
world  of  thought  which  every  one  has  to  create  for  himself,  is  ex- 
plicable only  on  the  supposition  that  there  is  a  greater  and  everlast- 
ing reality  from  which  it  develops. 

There  is  one  reality  only,  part  of  which  is  given  to  every  living 


242  THE  MONIST. 

creature  in  the  experiences  of  his  world-sensation  and  world-concep- 
tion ;  and  this  one  reality,  so  far  as  it  is  in  us,  or  rather,  so  far  as 
we  are  it,  is  a  world  of  feelings.  Yet  the  objects  which  we  observe, 
as  they  affect  us  and  other  objects,  appear  to  us  as  a  world  of  bodies 
moving  about  in  space. 

It  is  apparent  that  subjectivity  and  objectivity  are  abstract  no- 
tions only.  My  soul  is  my  existence,  as  I  feel  it ;  my  body  is  my 
existence,  as  it  affects  other  existences.  I  know  of  my  body  as  a 
body  through  the  same  channels  of  sense-experience  which  give  me 
information  concerning  other  bodies.  One  hand  is  to  the  other  hand 
an  object ;  it  is  felt,  and  thus  we  may  say,  I  have  an  idea  of  its  shape. 
I  can  see  the  color  of  my  eye  through  the  looking-glass  only,  and  the 
bodily  forms  of  those  organs,  such  as  the  brain,  which  cannot,  either 
directly,  by  touch,  or  indirectly,  by  reflecting  them  in  mirrors,  be- 
come objects  of  our  sensation,  remain  to  our  reproductive  and  repre- 
sentative faculties  entirely  inaccessible.  Our  retina  consists  of  sen- 
tient structures ;  these  feel  the  forms  and  colors  of  objects  before 
them,  but  they  do  not  feel  the  forms  of  their  own  objective  being. 

In  such  or  similar  considerations  of  our  own  existence,  the  ex- 
pression "I"  is  misleading  and  must  be  avoided.  When  we  say, 
"I  have  a  representation  of  my  body,"  we  mean,  that  some  limbs 
of  the  body  have  been  perceived  by  other  limbs  or  organs,  and 
all  these  items  of  purely  objective  sense-experience,  registered 
somewhere  in  the  brain  in  ganglionic  structures  that  are  intercon- 
nected, combine  into  a  representative  image  called  "my  body." 

Physiology  assumes  that  every  idea  that  is  thought  vibrates 
through  the  brain  as  a  peculiar  form  of  motion.  If  we  could  peep 
into  the  heads  of  others  we  might  see  the  mechanism  of  their 
thoughts  at  work ;'  but  we  ourselves  do  not  feel  the  bodily  forms  of 
our  cerebral  structures  or  their  motions.  Our  subjectivity  consists 
of  feelings,  and  appears  as  matter  in  motion  to  other  subjects,  to  out- 
side observers,  only  ;  we  appear  to  ourselves  as  bodily  objects  simply 
because  and  to  the  extent  that  some  parts  of  us  are  objects  to  other 
parts  of  us. 

Monism  does  not  say  that  the  soul  is  the  body,  but  that  body 
and  soul  form  a  unity.  Neither  is  the  soul  a  function  or  property 


MONISM  AND  HENISM.  243 

of  the  body.  We  might  just  as  well  and  with  the  same  plausibility 
say  the  body  is  a  function  of  the  soul.  Body  and  soul  are  both  ab- 
stractions ;  they  are,  although  radically  different  in  their  content, 
of  the  same  degree,  and  to  regard  the  one  as  substance  and  the 
other  as  its  property,  as  Mr.  Lester  F.  Ward  proposes,  must  lead 
to  confusion. 

The  simplest  way  of  viewing  the  world  monistically  is  to  regard 
all  objectivity  as  animated  with  subjectivity ;  all  matter  is,  as  Clif- 
ford calls  it,  "mind-stuff."  There  is  no  reason  for  assuming  that 
the  subjectivities  of  inorganic  events  are  full-fledged  feelings,  such 
as  we  experience ;  but  they  are  something  analogous  on  a  lower 
scale  ;  they  are  elements  of  feeling,  and  will  become  actual  feelings 
in  such  combinations  as  make  a  continuous  interaction  possible  with 
a  preservation  of  form.  Not  the  complexity  of  protoplasm  consti- 
tutes its  virtues,  but  its  peculiar  plasticity,  which  is  so  constituted 
that  the  forms  of  former  impressions  are  preserved  in  the  continuous 
whirl  of  its  life  and  admit  of  resuscitation.  Memory  is  the  basis 
of  mind.  One  feeling  can  be  felt  by  another,  and  thus  the  one  will 
intensify  and  give  import  to  the  other.  Impressions  of  a  special 
kind,  in  reviving  the  memories  of  former  impressions  of  the  same 
kind,  are  felt  by  these  sentient  structures  to  be  of  the  same  kind, 
and  thus  they  become  indicators  of  the  presence  of  the  same  objec- 
tive event.  Feelings  of  various  kinds  are  the  elements  of  mind,  and 
the  meanings  which  these  feelings  naturally  acquire  in  the  course  of 
their  development  constitutes  the  nature  of  mind. 

It  is  a  very  strange  fact  that  innumerable  volumes  have  been 
written  about  mind  and  mentality,  but  that  we  find  in  few  of  them, 
if  in  any,  a  serious  investigation  or  plain  definition  of  the  nature  of 
mind.  Dualistic  thinkers  of  past  ages  were  in  the  habit  of  treating 
mind  as  a  substance  ;  mind  is  to  them  a  material  thing,  only  very 
much  more  refined  and  sublimated  than  the  matter  of  objective  ex- 
istence. Their  expressions  should  not  be  taken  too  seriously,  how- 
ever, for  they  are  intended,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  to  be  figurative 
and  allegorical.  As  soon  as  they  attempt  to  explain  the  nature  of 
the  soul  without  allegories,  they  drop  either  into  mysticism  or  limit 
themselves  to  mere  negations. 


244  THE  MONIST. 

Mysticism  and  negativism  are  of  no  avail.  Mere  negations  ex- 
plain nothing,  and  exclamations  of  awe  and  surprise  only  betray 
lack  of  understanding  and  ignorance.  A  world-conception  in  which 
mind  appears  as  a  mystery  must  surely  be  defective,  for  a  philosophy 
is  good  for  nothing,  if  it  does  not  give  a  satisfactory  account  of  the 
nature  of  our  own  being. 

Granted  that  the  whole  world  consists  of  mind-stuff,  that  all 
objective  being  is  in  itself  subjective,  we  can  very  well  understand 
that  soul  arises  in  the  world  ;  that  organised  substance  develops  ir- 
ritability and  even  sentiency,  and  that  meaning  originates  in  sentient 
substance.  From  the  monistic  standpoint,  mind  ceases  to  be  a  mys- 
tery.' Mind  is  a  wonderful  thing,  but  it  is  not  mysterious.  There 
are  still  many  problems  connected  with  mind,  but  the  main  problem 
is  solved. 

Mr.  McCrie  rebukes  me  for  saying  that  mind  is  "a  new  crea- 
tion," and  that,  rising  from  certain  combinations  of  facts,  it  builds 
an  empire  of  spirituality  above  material  existence.  He  says  : 

"No  combination  of  already  existing  facts  can  make  anything  properly  'new, 
....  The  development  of  potentiality  into  actuality,  though  it  may  involve  the 
novel,  does  not,  in  a  philosophical  sense,  imply  the  new." 

"Potentiality"  is  a  good  word  in  its  place,  but  it  can  be  mis- 
understood. An  egg  may  be  called  a  potential  rooster,  and  a  lump 
of  iron  a  potential  ploughshare,  a  potential  cannon-ball,  and  a  poten- 
tial statue,  all  at  once.  Indeed,  anything  is,  potentially  considered, 
any  other  thing.  In  this  sense,  there  is  nothing  new  in  the  world, 
and  we  might  as  well  strike  out  the  word  in  our  dictionaries  as 
meaningless. 

Mr.  McCrie's  distinction  between  novel  and  new  is  not  sanc- 
tioned by  usage.  When  Gauss  for  the  first  time  employed  electric 
currents  for  the  transmission  of  intelligence  to  a  distant  place,  he 
had  invented  the  telegraph  ;  and  the  telegraph  was  something  new 
to  mankind  ;  it  had  never  as  yet  been  known,  or  heard  of,  had 
never  existed  upon  the  face  of  the  earth.  No  one  can  deny  that  new 
forms  are  new  things  :  a  certain  combination  of  springs,  with  wheels 
and  other  contrivances,  makes  a  watch,  and  if  a  chemist  melts  a 
watch  in  his  crucible,  the  watch  is  gone,  for  the  watch  is  not  the 


MONISM  AND   HENISM.  245 

material  of  which  it  consists,  but  the  form  into  which  the  material 
is  wrought. 

We  need  not  be  too  much  concerned  about  Mr.  McCrie's  stric- 
ture, for  he  approvingly  quotes  the  very  same  idea  from  the  writings 
of  Miss  Naden,  who  says  of  "memory  and  comparison,"  that  "the 
union  of  the  two  renders  possible  a  new  cosmos  of  emotion  and  in- 
tellect." 

In  a  certain  phase  of  man's  mental  development  the  theory  of 
regarding  matter  and  the  combinations  of  matter  as  "  substances, " 
while  its  various  modes  of  motion  are  treated  as  the  "properties" 
of  substances,  seems  quite  helpful.  But  it  is  not.  As  soon  as  we 
try  to  take  this  antithesis  seriously,  we  fall  into  the  same  mistake 
which  Kant  made,  when  postulating  his  "things  in  themselves." 
Mr.  Lester  F.  Ward  says  that  matter  is  known  through  its  proper- 
ties only.  Matter  in  that  case  becomes  as  mysterious  as  Kant's 
"thing  in  itself. "  Both  are  unknown  and  unknowable  magnitudes  ; 
and  whenever  ideas  become  unknowable,  we  may  rest  assured  that 
there  is  something  wrong  about  them. 

How  can  mind,  as  Mr.  Lester  F.  Ward  proposes,  be  a  property 
of  the  body?  Thought  is  so  radically  different  from  anything  ma- 
terial, that  we  cannot  explain  the  former  from  the  latter,  or  regard 
it  as  a  property  of  it.  We  might  rather  say  that  fire  is  a  property 
of  wood,  or  the  work  performed  by  a  steam-engine  the  property  of 
coal.  Mr.  Lester  F.  Ward's  monistic  theory  of  mind  is  no  better 
nor  worse  than  an  attempt  to  explain  a  pensive  verse  or  sentence  as 
a  property  of  the  poet's  ink-stand. 

Mr.  Lester  F.  Ward  might  obviate  my  criticism  by  saying  that 
he  understands  by  matter  not  only  those  properties  of  objective  ex- 
istence which  our  physicists  define  as  matter,  but  also  its  subjec- 
tivity which  will,  in  a  higher  development,  blaze  forth  into  feelings 
and  thought.  This  would  not  agree  with  our  usage  of  the  word 
"matter"  ;  but  even  if  it  did,  we  could  not  approve  of  saying  that 
mind  is  a  property  of  the  body ;  for  in  that  case,  mind  would  be  a 
part  of  the  body  and,  indeed,  the  most  important  part ;  not  a  prop- 
erty of  the  rest,  but  its  master. 

The  terminology  of  Mr.  Lester  F.  Ward's  monism  lowers  the 


246  THE  MONIST. 

nature  of  mind.  Mind  being  the  property  of  matter,  matter  would 
have  to  be  regarded  as  the  all-important  reality  of  the  world,  and  mind 
merely  as  a  display  of  its  forces.  And  this  implies  a  grave  miscon- 
ception of  the  world  and  of  life.  Mind  is  the  ruler,  and  matter  is  the 
slave.  The  more  mind  grows  and  the  higher  it  develops,  the  more 
powerfully  and  determinedly  will  mind  subdue  the  unwieldy  masses 
of  matter  and  claim  them  unconditionally  as  will-less  and  right-less 
property.  Mind  rules,  and  moves,  and  shapes  matter  at  will  to  its 
own  purposes. 

So  long  as  we  regard  our  bodies  as  our  true  existence,  and 
mind  as  a  mere  function  of  the  body,  we  cannot  reach  a  satisfactory 
view  of  the  world  and  shall  remain  unable  to  explain  our  deepest 
and  holiest  aspirations. 

Our  body  is  transient ;  it  is  doomed  to  die  ;  indeed,  its  very  life 
is  a  continuous  death,  a  constant  decay,  and  an  incessant  burning 
away.  The  matter  of  which  we  consist  at  a  given  time,  the  sub- 
stance of  which,  according  to  Mr.  Lester  F.  Ward's  terminology, 
our  mind  is  a  function,  is  no  substance  in  the  proper  sense  of  the 
word.  It  is  nothing  permanent,  fundamental,  or  abiding.  On  the 
contrary,  it  is  constantly  changing  ;  it  is  incessantly  pouring  in  and 
pouring  out.  Yet  the  soul,  the  so-called  function,  is  permanent. 
As  we  inherited  our  soul  from  the  past,  so  we  shall  transmit  it  to  the 
future.  The  sacred  torch  of  mental  life  is  handed  down  from  gen- 
eration to  generation,  and  the  spiritual  treasures  increase  more  and 
more  with  the  immortalised  results  of  our  labors. 

Our  body  is  individual  and  limited  ;  our  soul  is  universal  and 
infinite.  My  bodily  existence  is  different  from  the  bodily  existence  of 
every  one  else.  But  the  same  idea  may  ensoul  many  men,  and  in 
our  spiritual  life  we  can  be  of  one  mind  with  others. 

The  ethics  of  the  body  is  selfishness  ;  it  is  formulated  as  he- 
donism and  proclaims  the  maxim  that  "right  "  means  the  pursuit  of 
the  greatest  possible  amount  of  pleasure.  The  ethics  of  the  mind  is 
mental  growth ;  it  demands  the  development  of  the  soul  in  self  and 
in  others,  and  finds  morality  in  the  love  of  truth,  without  taking  into 
account  the  sacrifices  it  may  cost. 


MONISM  AND  HENISM.  247 

Far  from  regarding  ourselves  as  bodies  possessing  the  property 
of  mind,  we  say,  our  inmost  nature  is  mental ;  we  are  mind. 

Mind  is  the  consummation  of  nature.  If  the  forces  of  nature 
were  throughout  a  mere  blind  display  of  purposeless  motions,  the 
world  would  be  without  meaning.  If  there  were  no  souls  that  could 
decipher  their  luminous  language  and  discover  the  divinity  that  per- 
vades their  being,  the  beauty  of  the  starry  heavens  would  shrivel 
up  into  nothingness  and  be  comparable  to  a  senseless  heap  of  rub- 
bish. Existence  has  meaning  only  because  it  begets  meaning,  and 
the  meaning  of  rational  minds  is  a  revelation  of  the  spirituality  of  the 
universe  ;  it  is  the  reflexion  of  its  rationality  describable  in  eternal 
laws ;  it  is  an  incarnation  of  the  Deity  that  pervades  all  being. 

Our  monism  is  akin  to  Goethe's  unitary  world-conception,  who 
expresses  it  in  the  following  stanza,  which  we  have  translated  for 
the  present  occasion  : 

"  When  in  the  infinite  appeareth 

The  same  eternal  repetition  : 

When  in  harmonious  coalition 
A  mighty  dome  its  structure  reareth  : 
A  rapture  thrills  throughout  existence, 

All  stars,  or  great,  or  small,  are  blessed. 
Yet  all  the  strife  and  all  resistance 

In  God,  the  Lord,  's  eternal  rest." 

EDITOR. 


ARE  THE  DIMENSIONS  OF  THE  PHYSICAL 
WORLD  ABSOLUTE? 

SPACE,  GEOMETRIC  AND  ACTUAL. 


IT  is  a  fact  of  daily  experience,  that  a  body  can  change  its  position 
in  the  space  which  we  inhabit,  without  undergoing  any  visible 
alteration  of  form.  Its  displacement  is  apparently  a  simple  change 
of  place,  nothing  more.  Places,  accordingly,  are  regarded  by  us  as 
all  alike,  as  indifferent  ;  and  we  infer  from  this  fact  that  space  is 
everywhere  the  same,  that  is,  has  everywhere  the  same  constitu- 
tion— the  same  capacity  of  receiving  bodies.  This  is  the  quality 
which  is  improperly  called  its  homogeneity,  but  which  we  shall  call 
its  isogeneity. 

It  follows  from  this  that  we  conceive  of  space  as  limitless.  If 
it  were  circumscribed,  if,  for  example,  the  vault  of  heaven  were  its 
boundary,  space  would  cease  to  be  everywhere  the  same  ;  once  ar- 
rived at  the  furthermost  bounds,  the  advance  of  bodies  would  be 
impeded,  they  would  flatten  themselves  against  the  barriers  and 
necessarily  change  their  form.  We  must  then  conceive  of  space  as 
infinite  and  boundless. 

And  yet  closer  observation  will  show  us  that  the  isogeneity  of 
space  is  rather  theoretical  than  real.  Liquids  assume  the  shape  of 
the  vessel  into  which  they  are  poured  ;  the  vapor  of  water  rising  in 
the  air,  the  floating  clouds,  change  their  form  constantly.  Further, 
science,  working  with  instruments  which  are  becoming  daily  more 
accurate,  proves  ocularly  that  even  solids  vary  their  shapes  in  this 


ARE  THE  DIMENSIONS  OF  THE  PHYSICAL  WORLD  ABSOLUTE?          249 

manner  and  assume  different  forms,  according  to  the  mediums  in 
which  they  are.  In  the  same  way  as  a  balloon,  to  use  a  rough  com- 
parison, in  the  course  of  its  aerial  journey,  becomes  elongated, 
flattened,  puffed  out,  or  folds  over  upon  itself  continually. 

Thus,  solid  bodies,  by  simply  having  their  position  changed  on 
the  globe,  following  either  a  vertical,  a  meridian,  or  a  parallel,  un- 
dergo, by  virtue  of  this  change  of  position,  numerous  constitutional 
modifications,  which  are  followed  by  both  interior  and  exterior  al- 
terations of  form.  Inalterability  of  form  is  assured  only  on  the  sup- 
position that  the  properties  of  space  are  everywhere  invariable.  This 
would  imply  that  temperature,  pressure,  magnetism,  gravity,  light 
are  always  invariable,  a  fact  which  is  not,  and  never  can  be  true. 
But  this  is  equivalent  to  the  declaration  that  isogenous  space  is  a 
hypothetical  and  imaginary  space,  quite  different  from  actual  space, 
and  inaccessible  to  experiments,  since  experiments  can  only  be  prac- 
tised in  the  sphere  of  actuality. 

Such  space  may  be  called  geometric  space.  It  is  distinguished 
from  actual  space  by  this  theoretical  property,  that  a  body  can  change 
its  position  in  it,  without  changing  its  form.  There  may  be  terres- 
trial or  even  local  physics,  chemistry,  and  mineralogy,  but  there  is 
no  terrestrial  or  local  geometry.  There  is  but  one  geometry,  which 
is  a  universal  geometry — universal  in  the  sense  that  every  intelli- 
gent being,  no  matter  who  or  where  he  is,  who  has  this  conception 
of  space  will  arrive  at  the  same  geometrical  propositions.* 

But  this  is  not  all.  Not  only  is  geometrical  space  isogenous, 
as  we  first  believed  real  space  was,  but  it  is  also  homogeneous  in 
the  true  sense  of  the  word  ;  that  is  to  say,  it  has  the  capacity  of  re- 
ceiving similar  bodies,  or  bodies  of  the  same  form  but  different  di- 
mensions. 


*  I  cannot,  accordingly,  accept  the  view  of  M.  Poincare  (Revue  generate  des 
sciences,  Dec.  15,  1891,  p.  774),  that  hypothetical  "beings,  whose  minds  and  senses 
should  be  formed  like  ours,  but  who  lacked  all  previous  education,  could  receive  im- 
pressions from  some  properly  chosen  outside  world  such  as  would  lead  them  to 
frame  a  totally  different  geometry  from  Euclid's,  and  to  localise  the  phenomena  of 
such  a  world  in  a  non-Euclidean  space,  or  even  in  one  of  four  dimensions."  This 
assertion  of  M.  Poincare's  is  a  strange  one,  to  say  the  least,  and  he  himself  calls  it 
"slightly  paradoxical." 


250  THE  MONIST. 

In  order  clearly  to  explain  the  difference  between  isogeneity 
and  homogeneity,  we  may  compare  a  plane  with  the  surface  of  a 
sphere.  The  plane  is  homogeneous,  the  surface  of  a  sphere  isogen- 
ous.  On  the  sphere  as  on  a  plane,  a  figure,  a  triangle  for  example, 
can  be  displaced  in  any  way,  yet  will  still  remain  the  same.  But 
while  on  a  plane  one  can  draw  similar  figures,  that  is,  such  as  are 
the  exact  counterparts  of  each  other  and  only  differ  in  size,  it  is  im- 
possible to  proceed  thus  on  the  sphere.  Thus,  two  equilateral  spher- 
ical triangles,  belonging  to  the  same  sphere,  if  not  of  the  same  size, 
are  not  similar,  because  the  angles  of  the  one  are  not  equal  to  those 
of  the  other ;  whilst  all  equilateral  plane  triangles  are  similar  and 
have  the  same  angles.  Spherical  triangles  which  are  similar  belong 
to  spheres  of  different  radii.  We  may  also  call  attention  to  the  fact, 
that  on  the  plane,  straight  parallel  lines  can  be  drawn,  but  not  on 
the  sphere. 

Geometric  space  appears  to  us  thus  as  capable  of  indefinite  ex- 
tension or  indefinite  contraction.  A  geometric  figure  is  one  that  can 
be  enlarged  or  reduced  at  will,  can  be  viewed  from  the  large  or  the 
small  end  of  a  telescope  without  change  of  form,  or  the  gain  or  loss 
of  any  of  its  properties. 

n. 

But  the  mathematician  works  in  physical  space  ;  the  figures 
which  he  fancies  he  traces  in  his  own  space,  he  really  traces  in 
actual  space.  Are  we  not,  then,  endeavoring  to  establish  a  useless 
distinction  founded  on  a  wrong  interpretation  of  our  experiences? 
Just  as  we  believe  by  instinct,  almost,  that  actual  space  is  isogen- 
ous  and  that  bodies,  especially  solids,  can  be  displaced  in  it  at  will 
without  alteration  of  form,  might  bodies  also  not  possibly  be  en- 
larged or  contracted  without  varying  their  form?  The  question  re- 
solves itself  into  this  :  are  the  dimensions  of  the  world  in  which  we 
live,  constant,  and,  consequently,  are  they  absolute  ? 

We  will  now  proceed  to  demonstrate  that  these  dimensions  are 
absolute  and  constant,  and  that  consequently  actual  and  geometric 
space  are  different.  But  before  entering  upon  this  question,  it  will 


ARE  THE  DIMENSIONS  OF  THE  PHYSICAL  WORLD  ABSOLUTE?         251 

be  best  clearly  to  observe  its  nature  and  bearing.  To  this  end  let 
us  simplify  the  problem. 

Here  is  the  earth,  upon  whose  surface,  men,  intelligent  beings, 
live  and  move.  They  have  measured  the  length  of  a  meridian,  they 
have  taken  a  quarter  of  it  and  divided  it  into  ten  million  equal  parts, 
which  they  have  named  a  metre  ;  from  this  metre  they  have  derived 
the  hectare,  the  litre,  the  kilogramme  ;  with  these  they  have  meas- 
ured everything,  even  themselves  and  have  established,  for  example, 
the  fact  that  their  average  height  is  i  -60  metres. 

Near  the  earth,  and  resembling  it,  though  of  smaller  size,  is 
another  globe.  To  fix  our  ideas,  we  will  suppose  this  globe  is  half 
the  size  of  ours  ;  that  intelligent  beings  inhabit  it ;  that  they  are  half 
as  small  again  as  we,  though  of  exactly  the  same  form  ;  that  these 
too  have  obtained  a  metre  by  measuring  their  meridian  and  divid- 
ing its  quadrant  into  ten  million  parts — a  metre  which  compared  with 
ours  is,  say,  only  50  centimetres.  From  this  metre,  they  have  derived 
their  hectare,  litre,  etc. 

We  will  now  suppose  that  an  inhabitant  of  our  globe  finds  him- 
self suddenly  transported  to  this  other  one,  and  that  he  also  expe- 
riences a  proportional  diminution  of  size  ;  will  he  be  aware  of  his 
change  of  habitat  ?  If  actual  space  were  identical  with  geometric 
space,  if  it  were  homogeneous,  we  should  be  tempted  to  answer  at 
once  no  ;  because  in  geometric  space  the  size  of  a  figure  is  not  ab- 
solute ;  it  increases  or  diminishes  according  to  the  size  of  the  unit 
adopted.* 

*  This  proposition  is  demonstrated  in  mechanics  :  Laplace  formulates  it  thus 
(Exposition  du  systeme  du  monde,  Liv.  V,  Chap.  V,  ad fineui]  :  ' '  The  law  of  inverse 
attraction  according  to  the  square  of  the  distance  is  that  of  all  emanations  proceeding 
from  a  centre.  It  appears  to  be  the  law  of  all  forces  whose  action  is  felt  at  appre- 
ciable distances,  as  in  the  case  of  electricity  and  magnetism.  Thus,  this  law,  being 
found  applicable  to  all  phenomena,  must  be  regarded,  by  reason  of  its  simplicity  and 
its  generality,  as  absolute.  One  of  its  most  remarkable  properties  is,  that  if  the 
dimensions  of  all  the  bodies  in  the  universe,  their  distances  and  their  velocities 
were  proportionately  increased  or  diminished,  they  would  still  describe  exactly  the 
same  curves  as  they  now  do,  so  that  were  the  universe  reduced  to  the  smallest  space 
imaginable,  they  would  still  appear  the  same  to  our  eyes.  Consequently  these  ap- 
pearances are  independent  of  the  dimensions  of  space :  as  by  virtue  of  the  law  of 
the  proportionality  of  force  to  velocity,  they  are  also  independent  of  any  motion 
that  may  take  place  in  space.  The  simplicity  of  the  laws  of  nature,  accordingly,  per- 


252  THE  MONIST. 

The  question  here  put  is  not  wholly  one  of  geometry,  nor  one 
of  physics.  A  psychological  element  has  been  introduced  ;  for  a 
comparison  has  been  instituted  between  two  states  of  consciousness, 
one  present  and  one  past,  presupposing  memory  and  a  sense  of  meas- 
urement. This  sense  is  neither  sight  nor  touch.  Sight  enables  us  to 
judge  only  of  the  relative  dimensions  of  objects,  the  only  things  not 
affected  by  distance.  The  inhabitant  of  the  globe  we  are  speaking 
about,  can  derive  no  help  from  the  sense  of  touch  :  for  his  limbs, 
his  hands  particularly,  will  be  reduced  to  a  size  proportioned  to  the 
objects  he  has  to  take  hold  of.  Let  us  pass  over  taste  and  smell. 
Let  us  also  admit  that  his  acuteness  of  hearing,  that  is  to  say,  his 
faculty  of  judging  distances  by  the  loudness  or  faintness  of  sounds, 
will  also  be  adapted  to  his  new  abode. 

These  senses,  then,  will  be  of  no  practical  use  to  him.  But 
there  is  one  of  which  we  must  make  an  exception,  unless  we  mean 
to  regard  him  as  a  being  deprived  of  intelligence  ;  and  that  is  mo- 
tility,  or  the  sense  of  motion,  the  faculty  of  moving  and  of  feeling 
that  one  does  move.  In  a  word,  he  retains  the  sensation  of  effort 
and  fatigue.  He  will  experience  this  each  time  he  displaces  any 
heavy  object  or  even  moves  his  own  body.* 

Having  premised  this,  let  us  now  go  on  and  suppose  the  planet 
Mars  to  be  reduced  to  half  the  size  of  the  earth.  In  supposing  this, 
we  do  not  depart  much  from  the  truth,  seeing  its  density  is  about 
0-95  of  the  earth's,  and  its  radius  about  0-517. 

We  will  regard  this  as  exact  in  all  points  and  assume  that  Mars 
has  its  old  and  new  continents  and  possesses  cities  like  New  York 
and  Paris,  on  a  small  scale.  Of  course,  we  must  give  it  a  sun,  as 
small  again  as  our  own  and  half  as  far  away.  We  will  suppose  a 
Parisian  is  transported  during  his  sleep  to  the  Paris  in  Mars,  where 
he  finds  himself  on  awakening  by  all  the  objects  familiar  to  him,  in- 


mits  us  only  to  observe  and  know  relations."     This  proposition  can  be  absolutely 
true,  only  if  psychical  phenomena  also  depend  on  the  law  of  attraction. 

*  In  all  my  writings  on  philosophy,  and  particularly  in  my  Psychologic  comme 
science  naturelle  and  in  Le  sommeil  et  les  reves,  I  have  emphasised  the  importance  of 
this  sense,  which  though  not  muscular,  partakes  of  that  nature,  and  shown  how  in- 
dispensable it  is  for  the  operation  of  the  mind. 


ARE  THE  DIMENSIONS  OF  THE  PHYSICAL  WORLD  ABSOLUTE?         253 

eluding  his  wife  and  children,  his  furniture  and  tools,  his  neighbors, 
the  shops,  theatres,  and  boulevards.  He  opens  his  eyes,  beholds 
each  thing  in  its  accustomed  place,  and  feels  no  surprise.  But  as 
soon  as  he  has  risen,  washed  and  dressed  himself,  gone  down  stairs 
and  come  up  again,  everything  seems  different.  The  common 
characteristic  of  all  these  acts  is  the  raising  and  lowering  of  weights. 
Thus,  the  moment  he  steps  out  of  bed,  or  descends  the  stairs,  he 
lowers  his  body;  when  he  lifts  the  water-pitcher,  picks  up  his 
clothes,  when  he  reascends  to  his  apartment,  he  raises  his  body. 
The  sensation  of  effort  here  comes  into  play.  Let  us  see  what  will 
happen. 

in. 

The  radii  of  Mars  and  the  earth  being  as  one  to  two,  their  vol- 
umes are  as  one  to  eight  ;  and  as  their  densities  are  the  same,  their 
masses  also  are  in  this  proportion.  It  follows  thence  that  the  weight 
of  any  object  on  the  surface  of  Mars  is  one-half  what  it  is  on  the 
surface  of  the  earth.  With  respect  to  mass  alone,  it  would  be  one- 
eighth  ;  but  as  bodies  on  the  surface  of  Mars  are  one-half  nearer  the 
centre  of  mass  than  bodies  on  the  surface  of  the  earth,  and  as  the 
force  of  gravity  is  inversely  as  the  square  of  the  distance,  the  weight 
of  bodies  on  Mars,  being  the  combined  result  of  the  mass  and  the 
distance,  is  only  one-half  as  great  as  it  is  on  the  earth. 

Our  Parisian  there  will  be  reduced  in  height,  from,  say,  i  -60  me- 
tres to  80  centimetres.  From  this  it  will  follow  that  he  will  have 
lost  seven-eighths  of  his  mass,  and,  moreover,  as  he  is  living  in 
Mars,  where  the  attraction  of  gravity  is  only  one-half  as  great  as  it 
is  on  the  earth,  his  weight  will  be  only  one-sixteenth  of  what  it  was, 
so  that,  if  on  the  earth  he  weighed  80  kilogrammes,  in  Mars  he  will 
weigh  but  5.  When  on  the  earth,  he  was  obliged  to  make  a  vigorous 
effort  to  raise  his  body  to  a  given  height.  We  will  suppose  he  could 
jump  half  as  high  as  himself,  say  about  0-80  metre  by  terrestrial 
computation.  If  he  retain  the  same  muscular  energy  when  on  Mars, 
where  his  weight  is  only  one-sixteenth  of  what  it  was,  he  could 
jump,  with  the  same  effort,  sixteen  times  as  high  in  terrestrial  meas- 
ure. But  it  is  reasonable  to  suppose  that  his  energy  has  suffered  the 


254  •  THE    MON1ST. 

same  diminution  as  his  mass,  consequently  he  will  only  be  able  to 
jump  twice  as  high,  that  is,  i  -60  metres  in  terrestrial  measure,  or 
3-20  metres  in  that  of  Mars.  , 

On  the  earth,  with  a  given  effort,  his  jump  was  equal  to  one- 
half  of  his  height ;  on  Mars,  with  the  same  effort,  it  will  be  twice  as 
great, — that  is,  proportionately,  four  times  greater.  When  our  Pari- 
sian gets  out  of  bed,  when  he  descends  the  stairs,  and,  more  par- 
ticularly, when  he  reascends  them,  he  will  feel  four  times  lighter. 
He  will  go  upstairs  four  steps  at  a  time.  His  water-pitcher,  his 
clothes,  will  seem  four  times  lighter.  In  reality,  in  proportion  to 
his  strength,  these  objects  are  only  half  as  heavy  as  they  were,  but 
as  he  only  lifts  them  half  the  distance  to  obtain  the  same  result,  his 
efforts  are  additionally  lessened  in  the  same  ratio.  If  it  took  him 
one  hour  to  make  the  ascent  of  the  Eiffel  Tower,  it  will  only  take 
him  a  quarter  of  an  hour  to  accomplish  the  same  journey  in  the 
Martian  Paris.  Probably  he  will  not  attribute  this  peculiarity  to  its 
real  cause,  but  he  will  at  least  be  aware  of  it. 

It  is  hardly  worth  while  to  consider  the  contrary  effect  upon  an 
inhabitant  of  Mars  who  would  be  transported  to  our  earth.  To 
him,  everything,  including  his  own  body,  will  appear  four  times  heav- 
ier ;  the  steps  by  which  he  ascends  to  his  room,  three  times  higher. 
If  he  wishes  to  make  the  ascent  of  the  Eiffel  Tower,  before  he  has 
gone  a  quarter  of  the  distance,  he  will  be  out  of  breath,  and  will  prob- 
ably wonder  what  can  be  the  cause. 

We  have  taken  for  granted  that  the  density  of  Mars  was  the 
same  as  that  of  the  earth.  This  is  the  most  rational  supposition. 
But  let  us  go  still  farther.  Let  us  suppose  Mars  to  be  the  earth  in 
a  condensed  state  and  that,  in  consequence  of  this,  its  mass  is  ex- 
actly the  same.*  The  force  of  gravity  on  its  surface  would  then  be 
four  times  greater  than  that  on  the  earth,  the  distance  from  its  cen- 
tre being  only  half  as  great.  Our  Parisian  would  then  weigh  four 
times  as  much  on  Mars  as  he  did  on  the  earth.  True,  he  will  have 


*  Such  a  supposition  is  incompatible  with  Newton's  theorem,  just  mentioned 
in  the  words  of  Laplace.  That  theorem  assumes  that  in  the  reduced  scale,  the 
density  remains  the  same  at  every  homologous  point.  I  only  touch  this  hypothesis 
to  forestall  any  objection  that  may  possibly  arise  in  the  mind  of  the  reader. 


ARE  THE  DIMENSIONS  OF  THE  PHYSICAL  WORLD  ABSOLUTE?         255 

retained  the  same  mass,  and,  consequently,  the  same  muscular 
strength.  But  the  height  of  his  jump  will  be  none  the  less  di- 
minished in  the  proportion  of  four  to  one,  that  is  to  say,  he  will  only 
jump  20  centimetres  (terrestrial  measure),  equal  to  40  centimetres 
(Martian  measure).  And  all  objects  will  appear  to  him  twice  as 
heavy.  In  reality,  they  will  be  four  times  as  heavy;  only,  as  by  rea- 
son of  his  height,  he  need  not  lift  them  more  than  half  as  high,  he 
gains  the  difference. 

There  is  only  one  way  to  dupe  our  man,  and  that  is  to  suppose 
that  as  soon  as  he  is  transported  to  Mars  (the  Mars  of  our  first  sup- 
position*), instead  of  shrinking  to  half  his  former  size,  his  former 
size  is  doubled.  Then,  his  volume  and  mass  will  be  increased  in 
the  proportion  of  8  to  i,  as  will  be  his  strength.  On  the  earth,  he 
will  continue  to  jump  to  the  height  of  80  centimetres,  one-fourth  of 
his  new  height,  while  on  Mars,  where  the  force  of  gravity  is  one- 
half,  he  will  jump  twice  as  high,  that  is,  i  -60  metres  terrestrial  meas- 
ure, or  3-20  metres  Martian  measure,  which  is  just  half  as  high  as 
his  increased  stature.  Thus  he  will  be  cognisant  of  no  change. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  we  see  that  Mars  will  have  ceased  to 
be  a  geometrically  reduced  counterpart  of  the  earth.  The  houses 
of  this  Martian  Paris,  too,  will  have  to  be  twice  as  high,  and  deep, 
and  broad  ;  and  this  imaginary  city  will  occupy  four  times  the  actual 
space  covered  by  the  original  one,  and  sixteen  times  as  much,  if  we 
remember  the  relative  measures  of  Mars.  In  a  word,  the  new  sup- 
position is  a  direct  contradiction  of  the  conditions  of  our  problem. 

IV. 

Nevertheless,  nature  shows  us  tigers  and  cats,  crocodiles  and 
lizards,  pythons  and  eels,  rats  and  mice,  lobsters  and  crabs.  More- 
over, we  have  been  able  to  breed  large  and  small  dogs,  large  and 
small  hens.  Many  living  creatures,  fish,  for  instance,  grow  all  their 
lives  and  yet  retain  the  same  form.  We  have  ourselves  invented  the 
art  of  drawing,  which  is  based  upon  the  principle  of  similitude.  Thus, 
writers  of  fairy  stories  and  humorous  authors,  like  Swift,  have  fami- 

*  Radius,  one-half  ;  density,  unity  ;  weight  at  surface,  one-half. 


256  THE  MONIST. 

liarised  us  with  the  idea  that  there  may  exist  cities  of  dwarfs  and  of 
giants,  the  exact  counterparts  of  ourselves,  though  of  different  di- 
mensions. If  Gulliver,  on  coming  to  Lilliput,  or  Brobdignag,  had 
been  increased  or  diminished  in  size,  so  that  his  stature  harmonised 
with  the  stature  of  the  inhabitants  of  these  countries  he  would  not 
have  noticed  any  abnormality  in  their  appearance. 

To  imagine  this,  is,  nevertheless,  wholly  incompatible  with  the 
known  results  of  science.  The  cat  is  not  a  tiger  in  petto,  nor  is  the 
Lilliputian  a  reduced  image  of  a  Brobdignagian,  nor  a  tiny  crsytal  of 
alum  the  precise  copy  of  a  large  one.  If  this  were  so,  we  should 
no  longer  be  in  need  of  atoms,  molecules,  or  cells.  Mathematically 
speaking,  the  cell,  molecule,  or  atom,  are  worlds  capable  of  assum- 
ing within  their  limits  all  kinds  of  shapes  ;  but  from  a  chemical  or 
physiological  point  of  view  they  are  absolute  quantities  not  suscep- 
tible of  change. 

This  consideration  refutes  at  once  an  objection  which  here  pre- 
sents itself :  namely,  that  we  commit  an  error  in  not  applying  the 
reduction  of  dimensions  to  atoms  and  their  distances,  and,  conse- 
quently, to  the  molecule,  the  cell,  and  the  other  natural  units.  It 
would  result  from  this,  such  objectors  say,  that  the  combustion  of  a 
reduced  molecule  of  carbon,  that  is  to  say,  its  precipitation  on  oxy- 
gen, would  produce  only  a  reduced  living  power,  reduced,  namely, 
in  the  proportion  of  the  square,  (equivalent  in  our  hypothesis  to  a 
reduction  of  one-fourth,)  and  that  thus  under  the  same  volume  the 
Martian  would  possess  a  muscular  energy  only  one-fourth  of  that  of 
an  inhabitant  of  the  earth. 

.But  this  objection  is  only  specious.  It  involves  (i)  an  error  of 
fact,  and  (2)  an  error  of  doctrine. 

An  error  of  fact :  for  observation  discloses  that  carbon,  hydro- 
gen, and  all  chemical  substances  manifest  the  same  properties  at  the 
most  distant  points  of  space.  An  error  of  doctrine  :  for  the  bodies 
which  we  call  carbon,  hydrogen,  and  so  forth,  are  defined  by  their 
atomic  weights ;  and  a  pretended  molecule  of  carbon,  composed  of 
four  atoms  having  a  volume  and  a  weight  eight  times  less,  and  placed 
at  distances  half  as  great*  would  not  be  a  molecule  of  carbon.  In 
fact  in  the  enunciation  of  his  theorem,  Laplace  formally  excluded 


ARE  THE  DIMENSIONS   OF  THE   PHYSICAL  WORLD  ABSOLUTE?         257 

phenomena  whose  actions  were  manifested  only  at  inappreciable 
distances. 

Consequently,  if  there  is  water  on  Mars,  that  water  is  exactly 
like  the  water  of  the  earth,  and  its  molecule  has  the  same  form. 
Consequently,  also,  on  our  fictitious  Mars,  iron  is  iron,  wood  is 
wood  ;  and  it  must  be  admitted  that  their  resistance  is  the  same  as 
the  iron  and  wood  of  the  earth. 

Geometrical  units,  properly  so  called,  can  be  reduced  without 
the  reduction  affecting  other  units,  such  as  the  second,  the  atomic 
weights,  densities,  cells. 

One  thing  more.  The  brain  of  the  Martian  is,  both  in  volume 
and  weight,  one-eighth  of  that  of  an  inhabitant  of  the  earth  ;  should 
we  say,  therefore,  that  the  ideas  of  the  people  of  Mars  are  only  one- 
eighth  of  the  ideas  of  the  people  of  the  earth,  and  that  their  -judg- 
ments and  conclusions  possess  only  one-eighth  the  validity  of  ours. 

But  I  must  abandon  these  transcendental  observations,  to  re- 
gain the  terra  firma  of  our  argument.  Let  us  see  whether  our  in- 
habitant of  Mars,  who  is  like  us,  could  have  houses  like  ours,  that 
is  to  say,  having  the  same  proportions  in  all  its  parts.  We  will  pro- 
ceed by  reducing  the  problem  to  its  simplest  form  :  A  board  resting 
on  two  supports  capable  of  sustaining  the  weight  of  a  man. 

Let  P  be  the  weight,  /,  b,  and  h  the  length,  width,  and  thick- 
ness of  the  board,  and  R  the  resistance  of  the  material  employed. 
According  to  a  well-known  formula  we  shall  have  : 


. 

On  Mars  /,  b,  and  h  become  1/2,  b/2,  and  h/2,  so  that  this  struc- 
ture, reduced  one-half,  will  be  capable  of  supporting  a  weight 


that  is  to  say,  a  weight  four  times  less  than  P.  But,  as  we  have 
already  seen,  the  weight  of  a  man  on  Mars  is  P/i6  ;  hence,  this 
structure  will  be  four  times  as  strong  as  it  need  be.  We  should, 
accordingly,  have  to  employ  materials  of  four  times  less  resistance, 
or  push  the  supports  four  times  further  apart,  or  let  the  board  be 
four  times  lighter  or  else  half  as  thick.  In  a  word,  the  structure  re- 


258  THE  MONIST. 

quired  on  Mars  must  be  four  times  lighter  than  that  which  pure 
geometry  would  call  for. 

Further  back  we  noticed  that  in  Mars  the  steps  ought  to  be 
relatively  four  times  higher  than  they  are  on  the  earth.  Besides, 
their  burglars  and  thieves  must  be  so  much  more  agile  than  ours. 
Their  fences,  accordingly,  must  be  four  times  higher,  and  their  win- 
dows barricaded  up  to  the  second  and  third  stories. 

Let  us  now  see  how  a  workman  of  Mars  proceeds  to  put  up  a 
scaffolding.  He  has  a  hammer,  a  nail,  and  a  plank.  If  our  reason- 
ing is  to  be  governed  by  geometry,  the  volume  of  his  hammer  must 
be  eight  times  less  than  one  of  ours,  while  its  weight  will  be  sixteen 
times  less ;  and  to  sum  up,  since  he  only  swings  it  half  as  far  as  a 
workman  here  does,  the  energy  of  its  action  must  also  be  thirty-two 
times  less.  What  can  he  do  with  such  a  tiny  tool?  What  must  be 
the  resistance  offered  by  the  timber?  What  the  force  of  penetration 
of  the  nails,  lessened  as  they  are  in  size  in  the  ratio  of  4  to  i  ?  What 
kind  of  rivets  will  they  use  ? 

These  few  observations  clearly  show  us  that  the  inhabitants  of 
Mars  do  not  resemble  us  in  all  respects,  and  also  that  their  industry 
is  not  a  miniature  of  ours.  In  their  Stone  Age  they  could  have 
made  no  possible  use  of  flints,  which  were  one  thirty-second  as 
powerful  as  those  which  our  ancestors  used,  unless  indeed  every- 
thing else,  tools  and  material,  were  proportionately  weaker.  But 
we  have  departed  widely  in  this  from  the  geometrical  condition  of 
similarity. 

Suppose  they  have  to  build  a  pyramid,  erect  a  cathedral  or  any 
other  edifice  ;  they  will  work  four  times  as  fast  as  we  do  ;  the  ma- 
terials which  they  use  being  sixteen  times  lighter  and  easier  to  move 
and  it  only  being  necessary  to  lift  them  one-half  the  distance.  This 
reduces  the  work  to  be  done  in  the  proportion  of  32  to  i,  while  the 
strength  is  only  reduced  in  the  ratio  of  8  to  i. 


Let  us  now  consider  another  aspect  of  the  question.  We  have 
seen  that  the  Martian  measures  are  reduced  models  of  our  own. 
The  reductions  vary,  according  as  one,  two,  three,  or  four  factors 


ARE  THE  DIMENSIONS  OF  THE  PHYSICAL  WORLD  ABSOLUTE?         259 

are  used,  or  as  a  mathematician  would  say,  according  as  they  have 
one,  two,  three,  or  four  dimensions.  Thus,  as  we  have  already  seen, 
their  metre  is  but  one-half  of  ours  ;  consequently,  their  hectare  is 
but  one-fourth  ;  their  litre,  one-eighth  ;  and  their  kilogramme  one- 
sixteenth  :  the  reason  of  this  last  being,  that  a  litre  of  distilled  water 
on  Mars,  besides  being  one-eighth  of  the  volume  of  ours  is  attracted 
only  one-half  as  much. 

At  first  glance  there  would  seem  to  be  in  this  nothing  that  would 
affect  a  Martian's  life.  But  that  is  not  the  case,  as  we  shall  see. 

First  let  us  take  linear  and  square  measures.  If  an  inhabitant 
of  the  earth  requires  six  square  metres  of  cloth  to  make  a  complete 
costume,  it  will  take  the  same  amount  for  the  Martian,  since  the 
surface  of  the  body  he  must  cover  is  reduced  in  the  same  ratio  as 
the  square  metre.  But,  insomuch  as  his  sun  does  not  emit  any  more 
heat  than  ours,  the  warmth  and  consequently  the  thickness  of  the 
garments  he  wears,  must  be  at  least  equal  to  that  of  ours.  Conse- 
quently, if  he  makes  up  the  cloth  himself,  or  if  his  wife  knits  his 
shirts  and  socks,  they  will  doubtless  be  astonished  at  the  quantity 
of  material  used  and  the  amount  of  work  necessary. 

We  have  said,  at  least  as  warm  and  thick  as  what  we  use  on  the 
earth  ;  for  our  supposititious  inhabitants  of  Mars  will  soon  become 
aware  that  bodies  are  heated  and  cooled  much  more  quickly  than 
formerly,  and  this  for  a  reason  which  they  will  not  be  able  to  under- 
stand, namely,  because  there  has  been  a  greater  reduction  of  volume 
than  diminution  of  surface.  If  they  put  their  hands  upon  a  cold 
object,  they  will  be  more  rapidly  chilled  ;  if  on  a  warm  one  they  will 
be  more  rapidly  warmed.  Changes  of  temperature  being  more  sud- 
den, they  will  have  to  introduce  changes  into  their  manner  of  living, 
of  cooking,  and  of  clothing  themselves.  We  concede,  of  course,  in 
order  not  to  complicate  the  problem  and  to  keep  within  the  strict 
lines  of  geometrical  reduction,  that  water  continues  to  boil  at  ioo°C. , 
and  that  the  degrees  of  temperature  have  not  varied. 

Consequently,  their  hectare  of  land,  sown  with  hemp  or  flax, 
will  not  produce  as  much  linen  as  before.  If  they  use  the  same 
piece  of  land  as  a  sheep  pasture,  they  will  be  obliged  to  reduce  the 
number  of  animals.  They  will  also  have  to  alter  the  number  and 


260  THE  MONIST. 

the  quality  of  their  meals.  The  food  provided  will  have  to  be  such 
as  will  repair  the  waste  of  the  muscles  and  keep  up  the  heat  of  the 
body. 

For,  on  Mars,  be  it  remembered,  heat  is  quickly  dissipated,  the 
surface  to  be  cooled  being  larger  in  proportion  to  the  mass.  On 
this  account  the  inhabitants  will  eat  more.  But  there  is  another 
reason  for  this.  The  surface  of  their  lungs  being  larger  in  propor- 
tion to  the  quantity  of  blood  and  the  combustion  more  active,  one 
kilogramme  of  meat  or  of  peas  will  not  satisfy  hunger  there  as  it 
would  on  the  earth. 

Their  pastures  also  have  become  insufficient.  If,  for  example, 
they  have  heretofore  lived  on  the  product  of  one  cow,  the  hectare 
now  will  be  inadequate  for  her  support  and,  as  we  have  just  said,  it 
will  be  too  scanty  for  the  same  number  of  sheep. 

This  applies  to  liquids  as  well.  Evaporation  is  more  active.  A 
litre  of  any  fluid  on  Mars  will  not  allay  thirst,  as  a  litre  will  on  the 
earth. 

Thus,  all  measures,  the  metre,  the  hectare,  the  litre,  and  the 
kilogramme,  though  they  will  have  remained  alike,  that  is  similar, 
from  a  geometrical  point  of  view,  from  a  practical  standpoint  will 
have  become  very  different ;  and  will  be  almost  always  totally  in- 
adequate for  their  similar  Martian  requirements. 

Of  luminous  and  acoustic  waves  we  will  not  speak  ;  it  would  be 
difficult  to  reduce  them  geometrically.  We  will  stop  our  compari- 
sons here. 

VI. 

The  fact  is  thus  established,  that  actual  and  geometric  space 
bear  no  resemblance  to  each  other  ;  that  the  former  is  not  susceptible 
of  geometrical  reduction  as  is  the  latter;  that  it  is  not  homogeneous  ; 
and  that  it  does  not  admit  of  similar  figures  undistinguishable  by  the 
mind. 

Homogeneity  remains  thus  the  exclusive  and  characteristic  prop- 
erty of  geometric  space,  although  this  property  is  incompatible  with 
reality,  and  cannot  even  be  conceived  as  realised. 

LIEGE.  J.   DELBCEUF. 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  WOMAN,  FROM  A  BIO-SOCIO- 
LOGICAL POINT  OF  VIEW. 

TN  a  book  which  will  shortly  appear  before  the  public,  M.  Lom- 
-*-  broso  and  I  have  carefully  considered  the  problem  of  woman, 
from  a  psychological  and  biological  aspect.  It  is  perhaps  the  first 
study  of  the  kind  which  has  been  made,  based  on  scientific  princi- 
ples, for  if  woman  has  been  the  subject  of  the  highest  aspirations, 
desires,  and  thoughtful  care,  she  has  also  been  up  to  the  present 
day  scientifically  ignored. 

This  being  the  first  study  of  the  question,  it  follows  that  it  can- 
not be  entirely  free  from  the  defects  common  to  all  pioneer  efforts 
of  the  kind,  and  above  all  from  the  defect  of  not  having  given  a 
complete  development  to  the  laws  and  principles  set  forth  in  it. 
Our  essay  has  been  preeminently  biological  and  psychological,  but 
the  laws  of  feminine  psychology  and  biology  are  capable  of  many 
sociological  applications  which  have  been  entirely  neglected  in  the 
book.  In  this  article,  I  shall  attempt  to  supply  these  omissions  by 
setting  forth  some  sociological  conclusions  belonging  to  the  problem 
of  woman.  I  shall  strive  to  determine  what  are,  according  to  our 

theory,  the  natural  conditions  of  woman's  life. 

* 
*  * 

The  life  of  all  creatures  is  influenced  by  certain  conditions  of 
environment ;  if  these  conditions  are  wanting,  the  creature  will 
perish  ;  if  these  conditions  only  partially  exist  the  creature  will  live 
with  difficulty  and  in  a  state  of  suffering,  if  it  be  a  creature  endowed 
with  sensation. 

Oxygen  is  necessary  to  life  in  the  vegetable  and  animal  world. 


262  THE  MON1ST. 

If  it  is  wanting,  death  ensues.      If  oxygen  is   present  in  insufficient 
quantities,  the  respiratory  and  other  functions  become  painful. 

This  law  of  correspondence  between  the  living  being  and  its 
environment,  so  evident  from  a  biological  standpoint,  is  identically 
the  same  from  the  sociological ;  only,  in  the  latter  case  it  is  more 
complex,  for  the  life  and  happiness  of  the  individual  should  not  be 
a  hindrance  to  the  life  and  happiness  of  society,  nor  vice  versa.  This 
principle  might  be  expressed  thus  :  the  individual  ought  to  live  un- 
der the  right  conditions,  ought  to  play  in  society  the  part  best  suited 
to  it,  to  exist  in  the  environment  best  adapted  to  it :  and  this  role 
and  this  environment  should  both  be  such  as  would  best  profit  so- 
ciety at  large.  In  human  societies,  this  double  condition  of  a  happy 
individual  and  a  happy  social  existence  is  lacking  in  a  vast  number 
of  cases  ;  for  the  deadly  strife  of  human  egotisms  and  even  the  pain- 
ful necessities  of  life  often  prevent  its  growth. 

Science,  then,  should  endeavor,  by  studying  the  peculiar  char- 
acteristics of  the  individual,  to  find  out  what  is,  so  to  speak,  the 
ideal  role  that  the  human  being  ought  to  play  in  the  progress  of 
civilisation  ;  she  should  seek  the  essential  conditions  required  by 
them  for  their  life  and  happiness — conditions  sometimes  destroyed 
by  the  exigencies  of  life,  but  the  realisation  of  which  is  the  aim  and 
object  of  progress.  All  applied  sciences  which  have  as  their  end 
the  practical  and  useful,  such  as  medicine,  pedagogy,  psychology, 
and  ethics,  labor  to  search  out  and  discover  those  natural  conditions 
of  life  and  happiness  from  a  physiological,  psychical,  and  sociolog- 
ical standpoint ;  in  doing  this,  they  trace  out  an  ideal  plan  of  con- 
duct, they  offer  rules,  absolutely  true,  but  which  can  only  be  ap- 
proximately observed.  The  ever  advancing  and  complete  obedience 
yielded  to  these  rules  is  the  measure  of  the  ascending  march  of  civil- 
isation. 

The  essential  condition  of  feminine  existence,  which  I  desire  to 
analyse  in  this  paper,  is  that  which  I  shall  name  the  Law  of  Non- 
Labor.  As  it  is  a  natural  law  that  the  man  must  labor  and  struggle 
to  live,  so  is  it  a  natural  law  that  the  woman  should  neither  labor 
nor  struggle  for  her  existence. 

Biology  clearly  shows  us,  that  the  physiological   prosperity  of 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  WOMAN.  263 

V> 

species  depends  on  the  division  of  labor  between  the  sexes,  for  in 
exact  ratio  to  this  is  the  duration  of  life.  This  is  the  result  of  nat- 
ural selection.  When  the  female  is  not  helped  and  sustained  by  the 
male  in  the  struggle  for  life,  it  is  important,  in  fact  almost  necessary, 
for  the  species,  that  the  female  shall  accomplish  her  work  of  repro- 
duction with  the  greatest  possible  speed  and  immediately  thereafter 
become  extinct.  For  example,  it  is  evident,  that  while  the  female 
insect  is  busy  laying  her  eggs,  she  cannot  defend  herself  from  the 
attacks  of  enemies  nor  can  she  procure  for  herself  the  requisite 
nourishment.  If,  thus,  unassisted  by  the  male,  she  accomplishes 
the  work  of  reproduction  in  the  shortest  possible  space  of  time,  her 
species  will  have  greater  chances  of  survival,  for  the  shorter  the 
normal  duration  of  life,  the  fewer  the  probabilities  are  that  an  enemy 
or  any  other  unfortunate  accident  will  destroy  the  female  before  she 
has  fulfilled  her  duty  towards  the  species. 

It  is  thus  that  in  the  lower  orders  of  creation,  where  the  divi- 
sion of  labor  and  mutual  aid  of  the  sexes  does  not  exist,  the  dura- 
tion of  life  tends  to  be  reduced  to  a  minimum  ;  for  individuals  that 
develop  quickly,  and  quickly  die,  are  more  likely  to  leave  descend- 
ants than  such  as  do  not. 

Facts  bear  out  this  assertion.  Insects  among  whom  this  divi- 
sion of  labor  and  association  of  the  sexes  is  only  exceptionally  met 
with,  are  short  lived.  Most  diurnal  butterflies  live  but  a  month, 
and  of  nocturnal  insects  of  this  class  there  are  several,  for  example, 
certain  Psychidce,  who  live  only  a  few  days,  and  some  that  live  only 
twenty-four  hours.  The  females  of  Gryllotalpa  only  live  a  month, 
those  of  Locusta  viridissima  only  four  weeks  after  maturity  ;  and  those 
of  Lycaena  violacea,  according  to  Edwards,  three  or  four  weeks  at 
the  longest.  As  for  the  parthenogenetic  females  of  Selenobia  trique- 
trella,  the  duration  of  their  lives  barely  exceeds  one  day.  So  it  is 
with  many  other  species  of  Selenobia,  The  female  of  Melolontha 
vulgaris  does  not  appear  to  live  longer  than  forty  days.  It  is  also 
true  of  the  Ephemeridae,  so  called  because  they  are  born,  love,  and 
die  in  a  day,  ''whose  flight,"  says  Rossel,  in  speaking  of  Ephemera 
vulgata,  "  begins  with  the  setting  sun  and  terminates  before  mid- 
night, the  moment  the  dew  falls." 


264  THE  MON1ST. 

Sometimes  this  brief  life  is  preceded  by  a  very  long  preexistence 
in  the  larva.  Thus,  the  larva  of  the  cockchafer  feeds  four  years  on 
the  roots  of  trees,  before  it  passes  into  the  beetle  stage  of  its  exist- 
ence. And  this  state,  lived  under  such  restrictions,  this  complicated 
body,  when  it  attains  complete  maturity,  has  a  very  fleeting  exist- 
ence. The  beetle  dies  a  month  after  having  quitted  its  chrysalis. 
Here,  therefore,  as  we  perceive,  i's  an  immense  vital  effort,  culminat- 
ing in  a  very  short  after-existence,  due  to  the  fact  that  the  female 
not  being  sustained  by  the  male  and  being  obliged  to  shield  her- 
self from  all  the  dangers  of  the  struggle  for  existence,  must  ex- 
pedite her  specific  work — the  reproduction  of  her  species. 

We  find,  however,  among  insects  one  exception,  which  strongly 
corroborates  our  theory.  Among  bees,  wasps,  ants,  and  termites, 
the  females  live  a  long  time.  Thus,  the  queen-bee,  the  only  perfect 
female  in  the  swarm,  often  lives  for  two,  three,  and  even  five  years. 
With  regard  to  ants,  Sir  John  Lubbock  has  succeeded  in  keeping 
females  and  workers  alive  for  seven  years — a  remarkable  exception 
of  insect  life. 

But  among  these  species  we  have  a  division  of  labor,  not  be- 
tween the  sexes,  but  between  the  females  and  the  workers,  the  latter 
being  neuters,  male-females,  so  to  speak.  These  attend  to  the 
nourishment  and  safety  of  the  queen  or  perfect  female  bee,  and  con- 
sequently any  great  rapidity  of  reproduction  and  development  is 
unnecessary.  The  life  of  the  species  is  thus  prolonged,  and  its 
physiological  prosperity  increased.  If  we  are  still  in  doubt  as  to 
whether  this  prolongation  of  life  is  due  to  a  division  of  labor  be- 
tween the  sexes,  we  have  other  conclusive  evidence  of  it  in  the  fol- 
lowing fact :  that  the  probable  ancestors  of  bees  and  ants,  the 
Tenthredo,  who,  like  the  other  insects,  possess  no  division  of  labor, 
enjoy  but  a  very  brief  existence. 

Up  to  this  point  we  have  spoken  only  of  the  short  life  duration 
of  the  female.  We  will  now  go  a  step  further  and  remark  that  the 
absence  of  this  division  of  labor  is  not  only  prejudicial  to  the  female, 
but  also  to  the  male,  who,  in  the  greater  number  of  cases  lives  a 
still  shorter  life.  The  males  of  the  singular  little  parasites  of  the 
bee,  called  Strepdiptera,  live  but  two  or  three  hours ;  whilst  their 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  WOMAN.  265 

wingless  females  live  about  eight  days.  The  latter,  therefore,  live 
about  sixty-four  times  as  long.  The  males  of  Phylloxera  vastatrix 
are  much  shorter-lived  than  the  females.  This  same  phenomenon 
has  also  been  observed  in  an  order  of  life  still  lower  than  insects. 
The  males  of  all  rotifers  possess  neither  mouth,  stomach,  nor  diges- 
tive canal,  and,  consequently,  not  being  able  to  feed  themselves, 
must  doubtless  live  a  much  shorter'  time  than  the  females,  who  are 
furnished  with  a  complete  digestive  apparatus.  The  same  is  true  of 
the  males  of  many  Crustacea  and  marine  worms. 

The  explanation  of  this  is  easily  given.  When  the  male  is  not 
the  defender  of  the  female,  when  his  existence  is  merely  necessary 
for  the  conservation  of  the  species,  once  this  duty  is  accomplished, 
a  prolongation  of  his  life  is  of  no  practical  use ;  whereas  the  female, 
having  to  lay  her  eggs  and  often  to  watch  over  them  until  they  at- 
tain maturity,  still  retains  her  usefulness  to  the  species,  and  must 
necessarily  live  a  longer  space  of  time.  But  when  the  male  has  to 
fight  the  battle  of  life  in  defence  of  the  female,  her  existence  being 
thus  prolonged,  that  of  the  male,  by  virtue  of  the  law  of  natural  se- 
lection, must  also  be  prolonged,  for  it  is  necessary  to  the  preserva- 
tion of  the  species  that  he  should  live  as  long  as  she  does,  in  order 
to  protect  her.  Thus  we  have  noticed  that  the  workers  among  bees 
%and  ants  live  as  long  a  time  as  the  queen-bee 

It  is,  thus,  division  of  labor   between  the  sexes  that  prolongs 

life  in  the  lower  animal  world. 

* 
*  * 

I  have  described  in  great  detail  the  relations  between  the  sexes 
of  the  lower  animal  orders,  for  we  can  there  observe  in  a  clearer  and 
simpler  manner  the  principle  which  I  wish  to  set  forth  for  the 
higher,  that  the  prosperity  of  a  species  increases,  in  exact  propor- 
tion to  the  degree  in  which  the  male  frees  the  female  from  the  bur- 
dens and  anxieties  of  life.  But  this  law  also  exists  among  the  higher 
orders  of  animals,  although  by  reason  of  the  complex  and  innumer- 
able factors  which  govern  the  latter's  existence  its  action  is  here  not 
so  easy  of  analysis. 

Among  the  birds  we  find  marriage,  which  is  a  perfected  form  of 
the  division  of  labor  and  mutual  cooperation  of  the  sexes.  A  pair 


266  THE    MONIST. 

live  together  for  years,  sometimes  for  life.  During  their  nesting- 
time  the  male  bird  provides  food  for  and  defends  the  female  while 
she  hatches  her  brood.  At  other  seasons,  the  female  helps  the  male 
in  the  search  for  food,  but  the  guidance  of  this  struggle  for  life,  so 
to  speak,  falls  always  to  the  lot  of  the  male.  The  male  and  fe- 
male eagle  hunt  in  pairs,  but  her  duties  are  merely  auxiliary.  She 
spies  out  the  victim  and  announces  its  presence  to  her  mate.  It  is 
owing  to  this  division  of  labor  that  birds  multiply  so  fast  and  are  so 
numerous  all  over  the  world,  in  spite  of  so  many  destructive  ene- 
mies. And  among  species  where  this  cooperation  is  less  observable, 
we  note  a  remarkable  diminution  of  number.  So,  among  swallows, 
if  the  hatching-time  lasts  very  long,  the  males  often  abandon  the 
females,  who  are  forced  thus  to  seek  their  own  food,  and  this  is  the 
occasion  in  certain  years,  says  Brehm,  of  a  wholesale  destruction  of 
their  eggs. 

The  lion  and  the  hyena,  during  mating-time,  hunt  only  in  order 
to  provide  food  for  the  female,  who  remains  passive  :  sometimes  the 
lion,  with  true  chivalry,  will  not  begin  his  meal  until  the  lioness  has 
satisfied  her  hunger  on  the  prey  he  has  provided. 

In  the  monogamic  and  polygamic  families  of  monkeys  it  is  al- 
ways the  male  or  chief  who  guides  the  troop,  who  watches  for  the 
enemy,  who  opens  the  march,  who  advances  courageously  upon  the, 
adversary  that  threatens  his  family,  while  the  female  climbs  the 
trees.  Here,  both  male  and  female  seek  the  food,  for  subsisting  as 
they  do,  on  the  fruits  and  foliage  of  the  forests  in  which  they  live, 
they  have  only  to  stretch  out  their  hands  to  gather  without  effort 
their  daily  food. 

Among  savages  we  find  that  the  struggle  for  life,  that  is  to  say, 
war,  falls  to  the  lot  of  the  man  ;  but  labor,  and  that  of  the  most 
painful  kind,  is  the  portion  of  woman.  Woman  builds  the  dwelling 
or  hut ;  she  it  is  who  ploughs  the  fields,  carries  the  burdens,  and 
among  tribes  that  dwell  on  the  borders  of  the  sea,  lakes,  or  rivers, 
sometimes  rows  or  fishes.  She  is  the  slave,  the  beast  of  burden,  on 
whose  back  is  cast  the  weight  of  the  heaviest  and  most  fatiguing 
labors.  But  this  is  merely  a  passing  phase,  a  very  dangerous  aber- 
ration, produced  by  the  excessive  selfishness  of  man,  which  does  not 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  WOMAN.  267 

and  cannot  last  long.  When  M.  Letourneau  said  that  the  degree 
of  civilisation  of  a  nation  could  be  estimated  by  the  condition  of  its 
women,  he  enunciated  a  profound  truth ;  but  there  is  yet  another 
and  more  important  side  to  the  question.  Those  natives  among 
whom  this  most  abnormal  and  unnatural  condition  of  things  still 
prevails  have  remained  in  a  savage  state  and  have  made  scarcely 
any  progress  whatever.  In  fact,  many  travellers  and  ethnographers 
have  remarked  that  among  certain  savage  tribes  whose  mental 
endowments  were  above  the  average,  a  very  strong  obstacle  to  pro- 
gress was  exactly  this  excessive  labor  of  the  women  and  the  idleness 
of  the  men.  The  men  attending  only  to  the  duties  of  the  chase 
and  of  war,  nothing  was  brought  to  a  state  of  perfection  except  the 
weapons  of  war ;  for  the  women,  constrained  to  plough  the  earth, 
to  make  pottery,  etc.,  neither  could  nor  would  work  for  the  amel- 
ioration of  the  products,  this  not  falling  into  their  domain.  If  labor 
effects  anything  in  savage  woman,  it  is  to  increase  the  maternal  sen- 
timent. Obliged  as  she  is,  to  undertake  heavy  and  arduous  labors, 
and  full  of  love  for  her  offspring,  the  savage-mother  invents  an  in- 
finity of  artifices,  whereby  she  may  make  her  toil  lighter  and  fulfil 
her  duties  towards  her  children.  Who  has  not  seen  in  some  ethno- 
logical book  the  picture  of  a  negress,  ploughing  the  fields,  while  she 
carries  her  infant  'in  a  kind  of  sling  on  her  back?  We  find  many 
such  inventions  among  savages  ;  sometimes  we  even  meet  with  phys- 
iological and  morphological  modifications — among  the  Hottentots, 
for  instance.  This  proves  that  by  relegating  to  women  the  work  of 
agriculture  and  so  forth,  we  do  not  contribute  to  the  perfection  of 
agriculture  or  of  any  industry,  but  simply  to  that  of  the  maternal 
sentiments  and  what  pertains  thereto. 

It  is  a  more  difficult  matter  to  prove  that  the  labor  of  women 
among  civilised  nations  is  unnatural ;  for  it  is  so  recent  a  phenome- 
non that  the  harmful  results  which  all  unnatural  conditions  of  life 
produce  are  in  its  case  still  difficult  to  demonstrate.  We  will  ob- 
serve first,  that  female  labor  is  not  at  all  necessary  for  the  production 
of  sufficient  wealth  to  supply  the  wants  of  humanity — men,  women, 
children,  the  old,  and  the  sick.  Man  alone  could  do  this.  Woman- 
labor  is  not  required  by  the  necessity  of  an  increased  production.  It 


268  THE  MOM  1ST. 

only  tends  to  lower  the  marketable  value  of  male  labor  ;  for,  while 
woman  is  working  in  the  factories,  there  are  everywhere,  and  espe- 
cially in  Europe,  crowds  of  men  vainly  seeking  employment,  to  whom 
the  cessation  of  work  is  an  oft  recurrent  and  terrible  evil.  This 
shows  that  even  from  a  sociological  point  of  view,  female  labor  is  a 
pathological  phenomenon  ;  for  it  does  not  result  in  the  common  la- 
bor of  the  two  sexes,  in  itself  a  bearable  evil,  but  it  leads  to  the 
enforced  idleness  of  men  and  the  merciless  toil  of  women,  entirely 
overthrowing  the  relation  that  nature  has  established  in  all  orders  of 
life  below  us. 

Perhaps,  on  physiological  grounds  alone  this  principle  could  be 
enunciated.  Statistics  show  us  an  increase  of  mortality  among  wo- 
men and  children  in  countries  where  industrial  life  has  pressed 
mothers  into  its  ranks.  In  Italy,  where  women  are  employed  in 
the  rivers,  the  mortality  is  often  startling,  particularly  so  among  the 
children.  I  do  not  wish  to  encumber  this  article  with  tables  of  sta- 
tistics, so  I  shall  refer  the  reader  to  the  works  of  hygienists.  But  all 
must  know  that  the  life  of  a  factory-hand  is  the  most  dreadful  imag- 
inable, above  all  when  she  has  young  children.  Maternity  is  a  labor 
of  love  for  women,  yet  a  very  exhausting  one ;  add  to  this  the  strain 
of  factory  life,  the  moral  anguish  of  a  maternal  love  which  can  be 
satisfied  only  for  a  few  brief  moments  each  day,  and  the  family  cares 
which  press  more  heavily  on  a  woman  on  account  of  her  enforced 
absence  from  home,  and  we  shall  have  a  sum  of  suffering  and  misery 
sufficient  to  break  down  the  constitution  of  the  strongest  woman. 

Another  reason  why  woman  should  not  work  is  the  fact,  that 
we  wish  her  to  be  to  us  beautiful  and  attractive,  her  whole  person, 
her  dress,  manners,  her  ideas  and  her  words  filled  with  exquisite 
grace.  Grace,  said  Guyau,  is  the  feminine  side  of  life,  as  strength 
is  the  masculine.  A  perfect  woman  should  be  a  chef  d'oeuvre  of 
grace  and  refinement,  and  to  this  end  she  must  be  exempt  from  toil. 
As  the  human  form,  and  above  all  the  expression  of  the  face,  are 
only  the  product  of  the  emotions  which  an  individual  oftenest  expe- 
riences, a  woman  can  only  be  beautiful  and  graceful  in  person  in  so 
far  as  the  greater  proportion  of  her  emotional  experiences  are  sweet, 
tender,  and  peaceful.  This  is  a  theory  that  Mr.  Bain  has  developed 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  WOMAN.  269 

with  great  fulness  and  clearness.  But  the  emotions  which  toil  en- 
tails, in  the  struggle  for  life,  are  violent  and  strong  ;  anger,  hatred, 
enthusiasm,  boldness,  courage,  these  may  impart  strength  and  gran- 
deur to  the  individual,  but  they  can  never  endow  her  with  the  at- 
tractiveness of  grace.  The  workingwoman  grows  ugly  and  loses  her 
feminine  characteristics,  she  loses  what  is  most  exquisite  and  aes- 
thetic in  woman. 

I  foresee  here  many  objections.  It  is  man,  you  say,  who  de- 
sires grace  in  woman  ;  it  is  but  another  proof  of  masculine  egotism, 
thus  to  foster  idleness  in  woman,  in  order  that  she  may  become  that 
which  he  specially  desires  ;  do  not  let  us  dignify  as  a  natural  law, 
what  is  but  the  outcome  of  masculine  psychical  tastes  and  habits. 

I  believe  this  to  be  a  mistake;  grace,  in  woman,  is  not  merely 
the  product  of  caprice  and  selfishness  in  the  man  who  chooses  the 
prettiest  woman  because  she  touches  his  sense  of  the  beautiful. 
Grace  plays  a  far  higher  role  in  the  social  and  psychical  evolution 
of  humanity,  it  is  an  ever  active  and  moral  force,  always  beneficent, 
the  fruits  of  which  are  far  greater,  than  could  be  produced  by  any 
labor  by  woman.  Womanly  grace  and  the  love  which  men  bear  a 
beautiful  woman,  have  perhaps  been  the  origin  of  paternal  love  and 
of  all  the  other  sweet  and  tender  feelings  of  which  the  male  is  cap- 
able. 

Grace  is  the  aesthetic  side  of  weakness,  and  since  man  seeks 
this  quality  in  woman,  it  follows  by  the  well  known  psychological 
law  of  association,  that  the  perception  of  grace  and  the  sweet  emo- 
tions of  love  become  more  closely  connected  the  more  psychical  pro- 
gress increases.  Once  this  combination  is  fairly  established,  all 
graceful  and  pretty  things,  by  reason  of  this  law,  awaken  the  emo- 
tion of  love,  feebly,  yet  in  a  sufficient  degree  that  all  pretty  things, 
be  they  human  beings,  natural  objects,  or  artistic  productions — give 
us  pleasure  ;  and  this  pleasure  is  only  in  a  lesser  degree  a  reproduc- 
tion of  the  pleasures  of  love.  But  grace,  as  we  have  just  said,  is 
the  aesthetic  side  of  weakness.  Hence,  the  association  between  the 
emotions  of  love  and  the  perception  of  grace,  becomes  stronger,  it 
extends  itself  from  graceful  things  to  weak  things,  for  at  certain 
times,  almost  all  weak  things  present  themselves  to\us  under  the 


270  THE  MONIST. 

aesthetic  aspect  of  grace  ;  so  that  as  the  association  between  these 
two  sensations  widens,  it  becomes  an  association  between  love  and 
weakness.  Weaker  creatures,  for  example,  young  children,  who  are 
par  excellence,  the  weakest  of  all  beings,  awaken  in  us  a  profound 
sympathy,  which  is  but  a  rush-light  in  comparison  with  the  intensity 
of  the  flame  of  sympathy  which  unites  us  to  woman.  We  find  then 
that  physical  grace  in  woman  is  a  beneficent  sunshine,  calling  into 
bloom  the  softer  emotions  of  man.  It  would  be  a  great  misfortune 
were  this  sunshine  to  be  overclouded. 

It  may  here  be  objected  that  if  woman  be  prevented  from  tak- 
ing a  share  in  the  struggle  for  daily  existence  she  will  be  destined  to 
remain  forevermore  the  slave  of  the  sterner  sex,  and  will  not  bene- 
fit by  the  fruits  of  that  civilisation  which  has  been  more  particularly 
the  result  of  man's  work.  This  is  not  so.  The  truth  of  the  state- 
ment, that  toil  is  not  woman's  natural  condition,  is  proved  by  the 
fact  that  she  does  actually  now  reap  the  very  benefits,  in  the  pro- 
duction of  which  she  has  not  cooperated.  If  she  attains  that  supreme 
end,  the  bettering  of  her  condition,  without  having  to  labor  for  it,  it 
is  unnatural  to  suppose  she  should  spend  her  substance,  physical 
and  mental,  in  laboring  for  what  she  may  gain  without  any  effort  on 
her  part. 

We  hear  a  great  deal  about  the  slavery  of  woman  ;  that  she  is 
always  the  victim  of  a  despotic  master,  who  makes  her  submissive 
and  obedient  to  his  will.  These  statements  are  but  so  many  exag- 
gerations, true  only  in  the  remote  and  barbarous  ages  of  humanity. 
Woman,  more  than  man,  enjoys  all  the  benefits  of  civilisation, 
which  nevertheless  have  been  in  great  part  acquired  by  him  alone. 

Glance  for  a  moment  at  the  condition  of  woman  as  it  used  to  be 
among  savage  tribes  and  among  the  barbarous  ancestors  of  civilised 
nations ;  compare  it  with  her  condition  now  in  the  highest  centres 
of  the  world.  What  an  advance  !  What  a  marvellous  transforma- 
tion !  Among  savage  tribes  woman  works  harder  than  the  beast, 
performs  the  most  sordid  drudgery,  she  is  ill-fed,  relegated  to  the 
most  uncomfortable  and  ugliest  parts  of  the  dwelling,  is  beaten, 
roughly  treated,  killed,  and  even  eaten,  according  to  the  whim  of 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  WOMAN.  271 

her  master.  She  is  in  very  deed  a  slave,  having  neither  the  right  to 
live,  nor  to  be  happy. 

Among  civilised  nations,  though  we  do  not  deny  that  she  is  still 
the  victim  of  certain  oppressions  and  injustices,  yet  woman  is  not 
obliged  to  toil,  except  in  those  countries  where  large  manufacturing 
interests  have  produced  a  transitory  regression  among  the  working 
classes.  She  is  respected  and  ardently  beloved  by  man,  who  often 
works  with  dogged  resolution  to  win  a  wife  and  the  supreme  joys  of 
family  affection  ;  she  finds  in  man  a  protector,  who  is  glad  to  pro- 
cure for  her  aesthetic  enjoyments,  elegance  in  her  person  and  sur- 
roundings, mental  gratifications  and  rural  pleasures,  making  her  life 
sweeter  and  brighter,  more  charming  and  happier.  Of  course,  all 
these  luxuries  with  which  man  surrounds  woman  are  to  be  found  to- 
day only  among  the  wealthier  classes.  But  if  the  poorer  classes  are 
not  able  to  do  as  much,  it  is  merely  from  inability,  and  not  from 
want  of  will ;  for  it  is  the  height  of  ambition  .in  every  normal  man 
to  better  the  condition  of  his  wife  and  children,  to  spare  them  fa- 
tigue and  suffering,  and  the  daily  scars  that  are  gained  in  the  deadly 
struggle  for  life.  Though  despotic  husbands  still  exist,  it  does  not 
prevent  woman  from  being  in  very  many  cases  the  little  queen  of  a 
more  or  less  extended  empire,  surrounded  by  homage,  veneration, 
and  love. 

Now,  can  it  be  said  that  man's  condition  has  improved  as  much 
as  woman's?  I  think  the  reader,  if  he  will  consider  it  for  a  moment, 
will  answer  this  question,  which  no  one  yet  has  thought  of  asking, 
in  the  negative.  Once  woman  had  to  toil  like  the  beast  of  the  field  ; 
she  was  a  victim  at  the  mercy  of  a  tyrant  master  :  to-day  she  is  ex- 
empt from  labor  just  as  soon  as  the  financial  condition  of  the  family 
allows  of  it.  She  is  generally  surrounded  by  care  and  affection. 
Man  labors  and  toils  to-day,  just  as  he  did  of  old,  and  there  is  noth- 
ing abnormal  in  this  fact,  for  it  is  his  positive  duty.  But  the  progress 
of  civilisation  should  at  least  have  rendered  his  labors  lighter  and 
easier,  and  he  should  have  earned  a  certain  amount  of  leisure,  which 
he  might  devote  to  superior  and  intellectual  work,  such  as  would 
ennoble  and  elevate  him.  Can  we  say  that  either  mechanics  or  sci- 
ence has  yet  accomplished  this  miracle?  To-day,  in  all  classes  of 


272 


THE  MONIST. 


society,  man  has  to  work  more  energetically  than  ever  before  ;  the 
struggle  for  existence  has  become  fiercer;  the  effort  he  has  to  make 
in  order  to  conquer,  or,  at  least,  not  be  conquered,  in  the  race,  is 
infinitely  greater  than  that  which  sufficed  a  hundred  years  ago.  We 
see  this  every  day  more  and  more,  by  the  ever-increasing  numbers 
of  the  defeated,  suicides  and  lunatics,  and  by  the  maimed  and 
wounded,  those  broken  down  in  body  and  mind,  nervous  patients, 
etc.,  etc.  Truly  woman  is  happier  in  her  present  state  than  she  was 
in  her  past,  while  man  is  preparing  for  himself  innumerable  other 
sufferings,  the  elements  perhaps  of  some  overwhelming  future. 

If,  therefore,  the  natural  outcome  of  facts  proves  that  woman, 
though  working  in  a  far  lesser  degree  than  man,  still  benefits  more 
than  he  from  the  effects  of  civilisation,  this  should  alone  suffice  to 
demonstrate  the  unreasonableness  of  labor.  Nature's  great  aim  is 
the  economy  of  forces.  How  absurd  it  is,  then,  that  a  human  be- 
ing should  expend  painful  energy  in  attaining  a  certain  point,  when 
he  can  get  to  precisely  the  same  point  without  any  expenditure  of 
labor  at  all. 

This  curious  phenomenon,  which  up  to  the  present  day  has 
neither  been  noticed  nor  analysed,  proves  that  political  questions 
are  not  of  the  slightest  value  to  women.  I  cannot  understand  why 
the  question  of  woman  suffrage  should  so  excite  public  opinion.  It 
is  entirely  profitless  to  her  ;  it  is  a  weapon  for  which  she  has  not  the 
least  need.  At  the  outset  of  civilisation  the  political  organisation 
was  but  a  superstructure  of  the  military  organisation.  As  Mr. 
Spencer  has  so  aptly  shown,  the  chief  or  head  was  at  once  military, 
judicial,  and  political.  His  generals  were  his  ministers  as  well  as 
his  judges  ;  the  political  and  judicial  council,  when  it  existed,  was 
composed  of  warriors.  The  duty  of  government  was  to  increase  the 
military  strength.  It  is  evident  that  in  this  period  of  social  evolu- 
tion, woman,  who  is  not  in  any  way  concerned  with  the  defence  of 
the  nation,  had  no  political  interests  to  defend.  State  affairs  did 
not  concern  her,  or  at  least  very  indirectly,  for  politics  are  mainly 
connected  with  the  means  of  conquest  and  defence.  To-day,  in 
this  half-mercantile  community,  politics  are  an  adjunct  of  finance 
and  political  economy,  in  which  the  antagonistic  interests  of  the 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  WOMAN.  273 

various  classes  thrive  together ;  here,  women  have  little  or  no  inter- 
est. Does  the  wife  of  a  manufacturer  have  much  interest  in  the 
election  of  delegates,  or  in  defending  the  interests  of  the  class  to 
which  her  husband  belongs  ?  If  her  husband  strains  every  nerve 
already  to  provide  her  with  all  the  luxuries  of  life,  he  will  certainly 
not  be  lax  in  defending  those  interests  which  are  identical  with 
those  of  his  family. 

We  could  more  easily  understand  the  necessity  for  woman  suf- 
frage, if  the  sex  had  particular  rights  of  their  own  to  uphold,  if  wo- 
men were  a  separate  class ;  but  as  the  rights  of  every  woman  are 
riveted,  so  to  speak,  to  those  of  her  family,  and  as  those  interests 
are  already  protected  by  men,  there  is  no  sense  in  involving  women 
in  these  bitter  and  fierce  polemics,  where  so  much  good  blood  is 
spilled  ;  they,  who  should  lead  a  sweet  and  calm  existence. 

But,  it  is  said,  women  do  have  their  own  particular  and  sep- 
arate rights,  rights  which  the  excessive  egotism  of  men — the  law- 
makers— entirely  neglect.  The  legislators,  themselves  elected  by 
men,  frame  laws  with  reference  simply  to  their  own  advantage.  We 
hold  that  it  is  mere  delusion  to  say  that  woman's  social  conditions 
are  dependent  solely  upon  the  laws  ;  they  are  the  outcome  of  the 
habits  and  customs  of  nations,  of  which  laws  are  merely  the  ratifi- 
cation. No  matter  how  excellent  a  law  may  be,  it  goes  for  naught, 
if  it  is  in  direct  contradiction  to  the  habits  and  customs  of  a  country. 

Let  us  suppose,  for  instance,  that  among  a  savage  tribe,  where 
women  are  treated  like  slaves,  a  great-hearted  and  wise  king  should 
promulgate  a  decree,  commanding  an  equality  of  sex  ;  do  you  sup- 
pose it  would  alter  the  existing  state  of  affairs  ?  In  no  wise.  It 
would  remain  null  and  void  ;  it  would  have  no  more  effect,  than  an 
edict  commanding  the  cessation  of  a  storm  would  have,  upon  the 
atmosphere. 

But  I  have  already  pointed  out,  when  a  nation  progresses  in 
civilisation,  its  habits  and  customs  react  quickly  and  favorably  on 
women;  and  man  himself  ameliorates  the  conditions  of  his  com- 
panion, endows  her  with  all  the  benefits  which  have  accrued  there- 
from, without  her  having  to  put  forth  any  exertion.  What  advan- 
tage, then,  can  be  gained  by  participating  in  man's  struggle  for  ex- 


274  THE  MONIST. 

istence,  when  woman  has  only  to  wait  until  he  places  these  benefits 

at  her  feet? 

* 
*  * 

Gifted  women  of  genius,  possessing  unusual  intellectual  quali- 
ties, have  the  right  to  labor  like  men.  It  is  both  a  cruel  and  absurd 
prejudice  which  would  deny  the  right  to  such  a  one,  of  crowning 
her  noble  efforts  with  glory,  simply  because  she  is  a  woman.  But 
our  laws  like  all  other  laws,  are  framed  for  the  guidance  of  the  or- 
dinary, normal  woman,  in  whose  case  labor  is  as  much  of  an  ab- 
surdity, as  in  the  case  of  the  ordinary,  normal  man  it  is  a  positive 
duty. 

All  toil  is  painful ;  civilisation  is  a  heroic  effort  on  the  part  of 
man  to  free  himself  from  this  yoke,  or  at  least  to  make  its  weight 
lighter.  It  is  a  natural  law,  that  mankind  should  strive  to  attain 
his  ends  by  means  which  involve  the  least  possible  expenditure  of 
energy.  Is  it  not,  then,  in  direct  violation  of  this  to  say,  that  a  being 
who  can  attain  happiness  without  labor  and  enjoy  a  pleasanter  so- 
cial existence,  should  wear  herself  out  in  a  life  of  unremitting  toil 
which  works  injury  to  herself,  to  those  around  her,  and  to  the  whole 
social  economy  at  large? 

G.  FERRERO. 
TURIN,  ITALY. 


LITERARY  CORRESPONDENCE. 

FRANCE. 

/ 

M.  DE  ROBERTY  has  been  mentioned  already  in  The  MoniSt  as 
an  original  thinker,  capable  of  exercising  an  influence  on  the  direc- 
tion of  modern  thought.  This  eulogy  does  not  appear  to  me  exces- 
sive. I  experience  some  embarrassment,  however,  in  speaking  of  his 
latest  work,  La  Recherche  de  /'  Unite  (The  Pursuit  of  Unity),  or  rather 
I  feel  the  difficulty  of  giving  in  a  few  lines  a  sufficiently  just  idea  of 
it.  The  subject  treated  has  so  many  sides  that  the  fundamental 
conception  runs  an  easy  risk  of  appearing  scattered  and  uncertain. 

I  will  pose  a  few  questions  which  embrace  very  nearly  the  sub- 
stance of  the  work.  In  the  first  place,  "Why  is  the  human  mind 
constantly  seeking  unity,  that  is  to  say,  the  one  unique  formula  of 
the  world  and  the  spirit  ?  "  The  most  profound  reason  that  can  be 
alleged  for  it  is  drawn  from  our  mental  constitution  itself.  We  al- 
ways tend,  by  virtue  of  our  logic,  to  pass  from  fragmentary  knowledge 
to  comprehensive  knowledge,  to  bring  the  facts  that  we  know  more 
or  less  well  into  relation  with  a  single  fact  which  explains  them  or 
is  considered  to  explain  them.  Our  intellectual — I  was  about  to  say 
volitional — indolence  becomes  here  the  accomplice  of  our  logical 
activity  :  we  wish  to  economise  labor,  and  we  hope  to  find  repose 
and  satisfaction  at  the  particular  point  where  we  bring  our  route  to 
a  close.  A  general  explanation,  however  imaginary  it  may  be,  puts 
in  a  manner  the  world  in  our  hand,  and  it  seems  to  us  then  that  we 
hold  it  in  our  power,  in  place  of  feeling  ourselves  drowned  in  the 
weltering  chaos  of  things. 

What  have  been  the  great  stages  of  the  monistic  research?    At 


276  THE  MONIST. 

what  positions  has  the  human  mind  stopped  in  this  effort  which 
characterises  all  true  philosophy?  To  the  theological  discipline  suc- 
ceeded metaphysical  investigations,  which  gave  birth  to  the  three 
great  syntheses  of  materialism,  idealism,  and  sensationalism.  These, 
moreover,  almost  immediately  began  to  transform  themselves,  in 
proportion  as  the  sciences  yielded  new  elements  of  analysis ;  and 
M.  de  Roberty  has  shown  us,  in  his  preceding  works,  how  posi- 
tivism succeeded  to  materialism,  improving  upon  it,  criticism  to 
idealism,  and  the  philosophy  of  evolution  to  the  great  sensationalist 
tradition.  He  has  also  been  able  to  show  that  these  last  types,  and 
that  is  a  remarkable  sign,  interpenetrate  each  other  intellectually  in 
all  directions.  They  tend  equally,  in  fact,  to  the  identity  of  thought 
and  the  world.  The  unity  that  they  realise  bears,  however,  accord- 
ing to  him,  the  indelible  imprint  of  a  supposition  that  goes  beyond 
phenomena.  Some  bring  up  at  the  idea  of  a  principle  which  vivifies 
and  animates  the  world;  others,  at  the  phantom  of  an  "Unknow- 
able," which  they  relegate  beyond  the  bounds  of  experience. 

There  remains,  then,  at  the  bottom  of  these  systems  a  more  or 
less  explicit  dualism.  What  is  the  precise  signification  of  dualism? 
It  corresponds,  M.  de  Roberty  tells  us,  to  naive  experience,  and  is 
perpetuated  by  the  ambition  of  differentiating  the  reason  from  the 
"  object  thought  of."  A  singular  fact  has,  he  supposes,  contributed 
to  produce  it,  namely,  the  fiction  of  "limit"  created  by  geometers 
for  their  own  use. 

In  reasoning  on  quantity,  a  universal  attribute  of  things,  the 
geometers  arrived  at  the  notion  of  confines  between  the  different 
parts  of  space  ;  they  created,  by  analysis,  the  surface,  the  line,  the 
point.  These  imaginations,  which  were  indispensable  to  analytic 
reasoning,  in  no  way  trammelled  the  flight  of  synthetic  thought ;  and 
the  mathematicians,  moreover,  corrected  the  idea  of  limit  by  the  ne- 
gation of  that  idea,  the  concept  of  the  infinite.  Now  it  happens  that 
in  philosophy  the  limitative  notions — God,  matter,  spirit,  essence, 
etc., — give  equal  aid  to  the  thinker  in  constructing  his  ideal  figures; 
concept-limits  place  the  mind,  in  this  case  also,  in  immediate  contact 
with  their  negation,  the  infinite  or  unlimited.  Unfortunately,  what 
is  simple  in  the  mathematical  order  becomes  an  obscurity  in  the 


LITERARY  CORRESPONDENCE.  277 

brains  of  philosophers.  The  opposition  of  the  finite  to  the  infinite 
has  taken  among  them  the  sense  of  a  real  antinomy,  or  even  one  pre- 
existent  to  the  mind  which  had  generated  it.  The  noumenon,  for 
example,  opposed  to  the  phenomenon,  is  a  negative  concept,  that 
of  facts  which  enter  into  no  possible  generalisation  ;  but  the  very 
property  is  ascribed  to  it  that  it  served  to  deny.  The  Unknowable 
reproduced  in  its  turn  the  noumenon  decried  by  the  Agnostics,  and 
we  find  thus  everywhere  a  survival  of  the  old  dualism  in  this  mo- 
nistic research  which  does  not  attain  its  end. 

What  escape  is  there,  in  a  logical  point  of  view,  from  this  diffi- 
culty created  by  our  reasoning  ?  M.  de  Roberty  appeals  from  it 
to  what  he  calls  "the  identity  of  contraries."  There  exists  such 
an  association  among  our  states  of  consciousness  that  mental  coher- 
ence obliges  us  to  think  that  the  Universe,  considered  in  its  totality, 
cannot  simultaneously  "  not  be  "  this  same  indivisible  universe  :  and 
all  that  we  oppose  to  nature  as  its  contrary  or  its  negation — God, 
Supernatural,  Unknowable — finally  resolves  itself  then  into  this  same 
nature,  unified,  in  default  of  our  knowledge,  by  our  ignorance. 

But  logical  monism  should  to  the  end  remain  in  accord  with 
scientific  monism.  Experience,  it  is  true,  meets  everywhere  only  plu- 
rality, more  or  less  veiled  by  the  abstractive  processes  of  the  mind. 
Unity  and  multiplicity  are  defined,  however,  in  virtue  of  the  psycho- 
logical law  of  contraries,  as  two  fluctuating  forms,  transposable  one 
into  the  other,  of  one  single  and  the  same  act  of  consciousness. 
"The  rational  monism  of  science  and  philosophy  announces  itself 
as  a  psychical  or  even  a  psycho-physical  necessity,  an  imperious 
need  that  our  faculties  appease,  precisely  because  they  feel  them- 
selves astray,  in  the  chaos  of  our  sensations,  and,  later  on,  of  our 
cognitions." 

Man,  I  recently  wrote,  is  an  instrument  attuned  to  the  diapason 
of  things.  We  must  understand,  writes  also  M.  de  Roberty,  that 
quantity  flows  in  the  mind,  at  the  same  time  that  the  mind  parti- 
cipates in  quantity  and  remains  extended.  A  truly  scientific  psycho- 
logy will  carry  back  our  "  intellectual  forms  "  to  form,  to  quantity. 
Our  ideas  sum  up  and  synthetise  our  conditioned  sensations  ;  "men- 
tal unity  is  experienced  as  a  biological  and  physico-chemical  bond." 


278  THE  MONIST. 

Where  the  terminology  of  M.  de  Roberty  does  not  satisfy  me 
entirely,  is  when  he  speaks  to  us  of  the  deductive  integration  which 
must  replace  in  philosophy  inductive  differentiation.  If  philosophy 
limits  itself  to  redescending  the  path  of  scientific  inductions,  to  re- 
capitulating them  in  its  own  language,  it  then  truly  employs  syl- 
logistic deduction,  and  formulates  what  logicians  call  an  identical 
proposition.  If,  on  the  contrary,  assuming  an  original  function,  it 
draws  conclusions  conformably  to  the  general  principles  of  particular 
sciences,  and  supports  itself  upon  them  in  order  to  set  in  relief  new 
principles  concerning  the  order  and  law  of  the  world,  the  formula 
that  philosophy  delivers  to  us  always  implies  a  verification  to  be 
made,  and  its  logical  procedure  remains  that  kind  of  induction  which 
is  called  a  "provisional  deduction."'  "We  deduce  always  by  hy- 
pothesis," Claude  Bernard  has  very  well  said,  "when  we  make  an 
induction."  Metaphysicians,  in  fact,  have  always  wished  to  engage 
in  deduction,  that  is  to  say,  to  pass  from  principles  to  facts  by  the 
path  of  pure  reasoning.  The  essential  question  is,  then,  always  to 
know  what  the  principles  are  worth  from  which  one  sets  out,  and 
whether  the  basis  of  the  inductions  which  furnished  them  is  suffi- 
ciently broad  and  solid. 

M.  de  Roberty  himself  declares  that  it  is  necessary  to  satisfy 
ourselves  with  a  "purely  logical  "  monism.  Or,  if  not,  he  says,  one 
would  run  the  risk  of  drifting  either  into  the  transcendental  monism 
of  the  conceptions  of  the  past,  or  into  the  experimental  pluralism  in 
such  great  favor  to-day. 

But  how  can  it  then  be  denied  that  "provisional  deduction" 
remains  the  true  operation  of  all  philosophy,  and  that,  starting  out 
from  induction,  hypothesis  becomes  at  last  positive  and  scientific  ? 


Of  a  surety,  a  striking  character  of  modern  research  is  the 
increasing  specialisation  of  studies,  pushed  even  to  the  point  of  blind- 
ing the  eyes  and  contracting  the  mind. 

But  it  soon  finds  its  corrective  in  the  juster  perception  of  the 
close  subordination  of  facts  which  appears  to  us  conspicuous  in  pro- 
portion as  we  penetrate  into  the  detail  of  phenomena,  considered 


LITERARY  CORRESPONDENCE.  279 

hitherto  a  little  too  much  in  the  large.  Patient  analyses  always  end 
in  leading  to  syntheses. 

We  have  a  remarkable  example  of  this  in  the  physical  sciences, 
where  delicate  experiments  have  resulted  in  giving  an  intimation  of 
the  laws  of  chemical  equilibrium,  thanks  to  which  the  too  profound 
distinction,  so  long  accepted,  between  the  phenomena  called  "non- 
reversible,"  of  physics  properly  so  called,  and  the  phenomena  called 
"reversible,"  of  chemistry,  is  being  effaced. 

In  the  social  sciences  it  may  be  said  in  the  same  manner  that 
moralists  and  economists,  by  dint  of  working  each  from  their  own 
side,  have  thus  come,  nevertheless,  to  meet  each  other.  Man,  it  is 
scarcely  any  more  contested,  is  a  moral  animal  because  he  is  a 
social  animal,  and  it  finally  appears  no  longer  possible  to  abstract 
moral  facts  from  social  and  economic  facts. 

The  work  of  M.  EMILE  DURKHEIM,  De  la  division  du  travail  so- 
cial (On  the  Division  of  Social  Labor),  is  conceived  in  this  spirit, 
and  the  author  has  thence  reached  the  point  of  considering  the  great 
economic  fact,  division  of  labor,  as  the  instrument  of  the  new  moral- 
ity, or,  to  say  better,  as  the  henceforth  preponderating  factor  in  the 
moral  evolution  of  humanity,  in  the  production  of  the  moral  phe- 
nomena which  are  to  distinguish  the  societies  of  the  future. 

We  see  continually,  he  writes,  that  changes  have  taken  place 
in  the  structure  of  society  which  have  rendered  necessary  changes 
in  morals.  "  Morality  then  forms  itself,  transforms  itself,  and  main- 
tains itself,  for  reasons  of  the  experimental  order  ;  it  is  these  reasons 
only  that  the  science  of  morality  undertakes  to  determine." 

1  wish  indeed,  and  it  would  certainly  be  a  great  service  to  us, 
that  he  would  indicate  the  sense  in  which  these  changes  of  structure 
take  place,  specify  the  reasons  of  an  experimental  order  which  cause 
morality,  more  precisely  the  law  of  right,  to  undergo  a  continuous 
transformation. 

M.  Novicow,  of  whom  I  have  spoken  here  recently,  has  put  in 
evidence  evolution,  in  the  various  forms  of  the  great  struggle  for 
existence  ;  he  has  found,  in  the  transition  from  the  purely  physiologi- 
cal or  animal  struggle  to  that  which  is  economic  and  political,  and 
finally  intellectual,  the  reason  of  the  more  rational  proceedings  which 


280  THE  MONIST. 

tend  to  regulate  the  life  of  men  in  society.  What  is  most  apparent 
to  him  is  rather  the  political  and  economic  aspects  of  social  changes. 
M.  Durkheim,  on  the  other  hand,  is  especially  preoccupied  with  the 
moral  condition  of  the  individual,  the  penal  law,  and  the  phenomena 
of  conscious  solidarity.  But  he  has  taken  the  same  trouble  to  discover 
a  fact  in  virtue  of  which  it  varies,  and  this  he  supposes  himself  to 
have  found  in  the  division  of  economic  labor.  The  transition  from 
a  solidarity  which  is  "  mechanical"  or  by  "similitudes,"  to  "organic 
solidarity,"  due  to  the  division  of  labor,  appears  to  him  to  furnish 
the  explanation  of  the  two  movements,  contradictory  in  appearance, 
which  are  taking  place  under  our  eyes,  and  by  which  the  individual 
becomes  at  once  more  autonomous,  and  more  closely  dependent  upon 
society, — at  the  same  time  more  personal,  and  more  united  with 
others  in  a  common  interest. 

This  is  perhaps  but  one  way  among  many  others  of  looking  at 
things.  But  it -is  interesting,  and  every  reader  will  know  how  to 
appreciate,  in  the  excellent  pages  of  M.  Durkheim,  what  he  says, 
.for  example,  of  the  characteristics  of  crime  and  penalty,*  of  the  in- 
verse relations  of  repressive  and  cooperative  law,  etc. 

The  tone  of  his  book  is  indeed  a  little  easy  and  dogmatic  ;  but 
one  feels  in  it  a  sound  logic  and  elevated  tendencies,  and  it  will  not 
be  work  lost  for  the  sociologists  of  the  future. 

DR.  AZAM  publishes,  under  the  title  of  Hypnotisme  et  double 
conscience,  origine  de  leur  etude  et  divers  travaux  sur  des  sujets  ana- 
logues, ("  Hypnotism  and  Double  Consciousness,  the  Origin  of  their 
Study  and  Various  Works  on  Analogous  Subjects,")  several  writings 
which  had  remained  scattered  in  different  collections.  They  are  too 
well  known  for  me  to  need  speak  of  them,  and  the  principal  observa- 
tions of  Dr.  Azam  have  been  since  republished  in  special  works.  But 
I  wish  to  take  occasion  from  this  publication  to  recall  the  works  and 
the  name  of  an  eminent  physician  of  whom  a  new  generation  is  in 
truth  much  too  forgetful.  I  speak  here  of  J.  M.  Durand  (de  Gros) 
better  known  by  some  under  the  pseudonym  of  Philips.  Dr.  Durand 

*  Crime  consists  essentially,  for  him,  in  an  act  contrary  to  the  strong  and  defi- 
nite states  of  the  common  consciousness,  and  he  shows  that  all  the  characteristics 
of  punishment  are,  in  fact,  derived  from  this  nature  of  crime. 


LITERARY  CORRESPONDENCE.  28 1 

de  Gros  had  made  known  in  France  ten  years  before  Dr.  Lie"bault 
the  forms  and  applications  of  suggestion.  His  Electrodynamisme  vital, 
etc.,  dates  from  1855  ;  his  Cours  theorique  et  pratique  de  Braidisme, 
etc.,  from  1860.  And  not  only  did  he  treat  of  suggestion  in  his  works 
on  physiology,  psychology,  and  pathology,  but  he  had  perceived  also, 
and  expressed  in  a  very  clear  manner,  the  principle  of  the  plurality 
of  consciousness,  or  of  psychic  centres,  illustrated  since  by  Messrs. 
Pierre  Janet  and  Binet,  among  several  others. 

In  some  Essais  de  physiologic  philosophique  (1866)  did  not  M. 
Durand  de  Gros  employ  already  these  significant  terms  '  'Unconscious 
acts  of  the  relational  life,  the  product  of  the  activity  of  spinal  souls; 
cephalic  souls,  spinal  souls,  ganglionic  souls  ;  automatism  of  the 
soul ;  instinct  or  automatism  of  the  congenital  soul,"  etc.  ?  In  a  very 
spirited  brochure,  written  in  response  to  a  honeyed  and  rather  per- 
fidious report  of  Dr.  Chauffard  on  the  ensemble  of  his  theories  (La 
Philosophic  physiologique  et  medic  ale  a  r  Academic  de  medecine,  Paris,  G. 
Bailliere,  1868),  he  declared  forcibly  that  the  doctrine  of  an  irre- 
ducible soul  could  no  longer  satisfy  us,  "that  the  human  being  is  in 
reality  a  collection  of  organisms,  a  collection  of  distinct  lives  and 
egos,  and  that  its  apparent  unity  lies  altogether  in  the  harmony  of  a 
hierarchic  whole  whose  elements,  approximated  by  an  intimate  co- 
ordination and  subordination,  bear  nevertheless,  each  in  itself,  all  the 
essential  attributes,  all  the  primitive  characters  of  an  individual 
animal." 

Let  us  do  justice  to  the  initiators,  to  the  combatants  of  the  first 
hour.  They  carry  in  them  the  scientific  posterity  which  does  itself 
sometimes  the  grave  wrong  of  neglecting  them,  .of  passing  over  the 
name  while  entering  into  the  inheritance. 

I  will  only  stop  to  call  attention,  in  conclusion,  to  the  third 
volume  of  F Ann&e philosophique,  published  under  the  direction  of  M. 
F.  Pillon.  It  contains  a  study  by  M.  Renouvier  on  Schopenhauer, 
an  article  by  M.  Douriac  on  the  nature  of  emotion,  another  by  M. 
Pillon  on  the  historical  evolution  of  idealism,  and  finally,  the  French 

bibliography  for  1892.* 

LUCIEN  ARREAT. 

*The  books  mentioned  belong  to  the  Librairie  F.  Alcan. 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS. 

LOGIC  AS  RELATION-LORE. 
REPLY  TO  MR.    FRANCIS  C.    RUSSELL. 

Mr.  Francis  C.  Russell  has  devoted  several  pages  in  The  Alonisf,  Vol.  Ill,  No. 
2,  to  discussing  with  evident  sympathy  the  reflexions  which  in  1891  I  presented  to 
the  readers  of  the  French  Revue  Philosophique,  concerning  the  theory  of  relations 
and  its  application  to  the  concept  of  mathematical  equality. 

While  approving  the  spirit  that  has  inspired  me,  Mr.  Russell  has  nevertheless 
formulated  a  large  number  of  criticisms.  Indeed,  he  accepts  scarcely  any  of  the 
data  of  my  work,  and  he  wholly  rejects  the  results  thereof.  If  these  criticisms 
found  their  origin  in  a  point  of  view  different  from  mine,  I  should  certainly  abstain 
from  making  any  reply  thereto.  Any  controversy  upon  any  special  subject,  when 
the  parties  thereto  differ  already  as  to  the  manner  of  treating  every  subject,  is  wholly 
lacking  in  interest.  In  virtue,  perhaps,  of  the  principle  of  contradiction,  it  is  only 
apt  to  confirm  each  one  of  the  contestants  as  to  the  merits  of  his  own  theory.  But 
such  is  not  here  the  case.  It  appears  to  me  that  between  Mr.  Russell  and  myself 
there  exists  a  certain  community  of  view,  which  makes  discussion  possible  and  even 
profitable.  Besides  this,  the  observations  of  Mr.  Russell  have,  I  believe,  their  main 
occasion  in  certain  misunderstandings,  arising  in  part  from  my  honorable  opponent 
not  having  perhaps  gained  a  sufficiently  intimate  acquaintance  with  my  article 
(which  would  be  very  natural,  since  a  review  article  is  not  one  of  those  productions 
one  is  apt  to  look  into  very  deeply),  and,  doubtless,  also  in  part  from  a  lack  of  pre- 
cision and  lucidity  in  the  explanation  that  I  have  given  of  my  ideas.  I  am  thus 
justified,  I  think,  in  continuing  the  debate. 

Without  wishing,  however,  to  enter  into  a  complete  discussion,  one  that  would 
go  to  the  bottom  of  the  subject,  and  in  order  also  not  to  abuse  the  hospitality  which 
the  good-will  of  Dr.  Carus  has  accorded  to  me,  I  will  content  myself  with  correct- 
ing the  misunderstandings,  which  I  consider  the  results  of  erroneous  interpretations 
of  certain  points  of  my  article.  This  will  be  for  me,  moreover,  an  occasion  for  put- 
ting more  in  relief  what  I  hold  as  fundamental  in  the  theory  of  cognition,  but  in  so 


CRITICISMS   AND  DISCUSSIONS.  283 

far  only  as  it  relates  to  the  cognition  of  the  relations  between  things  and  to  the  ex- 
clusion of  the  theory  of  the  cognition  of  the  things  themselves. 

I.        THE  AXIOM   OF  SYMMETRY. 

And  in  the  very  first  place  I  ought  to  separate  from  the  theory  of  cognition  the 
questions  relative  to  the  validity  of  the  Axiom  of  Symmetry. 

After  having  remarked  that  every  philosophic  theory  is  founded  upon  some 
very  general  supposition,  taken  as  established,  Mr.  Russell  declares  that  the  general 
supposition  upon  which  the  theory  which  I  maintain  is  founded  is  that  axiom  rela- 
tive to  symmetric  relations  (I  mean  those  having  no  determinate  sense,  or  convertible 
without  alteration),  which  I  have  enounced  as  follows  : 

"Two  things  which  have  the  same  symmetric  relation  to  a  third  thing,  have 
between  them  that  same  relation." 

This  understanding  of  Mr.  Russell  is  most  certainly  unfounded,  and  I  must 
disavow  it.  I  have  undoubtedly  tendered  the  axiom  in  question  as  a  fundamental 
one,  that  is  to  say,  in  respect  of  placing  myself  at  the  scientific  point  of  view,  at  the 
point  of  view  not  of  conceivability,  but  of  reality.  In  this  sense,  the  axiom  is  cer- 
tainly one  of  the  most  general  laws  of  exterior  phenomena,  but  it  does  not  follow 
that  in  logic  its  part  is  an  essential  one  ;  it  is  merely  a  rule  of  simplification.  For 
instance,  the  axiom  permits  us  to  reduce  certain  complexes  of  relations  that  are 
known  primarily  as  having  three  or  more  determinate  terms  to  two  determinate 
terms  ;  but  should  the  axiom  be  in  fault,  the  complexes  of  three  terms  or  more  would 
none  the  less  preserve  its  conceptual  value. 

If,  then,  the  axiom  of  symmetry  is  one  of  the  objective  laws  that  permits  of  ab- 
straction, that  is  to  say,  that  enables  us  to  simplify  our  cognitions  in  so  far  as  the 
same  consist  in  the  classification  of  exterior  objects,  it  is  in  no  manner  or  form  one 
of  the  principles  that  govern  the  development  of  our  cognitions.  So  well  able  would 
I  have  been  to  suppress  all  mention  of  it  without  doing  any  violence  to  the  theory 
which  I  maintain,  that  it  would  have  been  sufficient  for  me  in  the  concrete  exam- 
ples to  substitute  for  the  axiom  of  symmetry  the  special  laws  of  each  science  ;  laws 
which  are  denied  by  no  one,  no  matter  what  rank  is  accorded  them  ;  laws  of  which 
the  axiom  itself  is  only  an  abstract  enunciation,  common  to  all,  but  unable  to  over- 
step them. 

After  having  thus  wrongfully  imputed  to  the  axiom  of  symmetry  a  fundamental 
role  in  my  theory,  Mr.  Russell  contests  its  generality,  from  whence  follows  the  nat- 
ural conclusion,  one,  however,  which  he  has  not  brought  forward,  that  my  theory  is 
unsound. 

It  is  plain  that  we  cannot  consider  the  generality  of  the  axiom  as  established, 
so  long  as  it  has  not  been  verified  in  every  case  of  that  generality.  I  am  too  much 
the  adversary  of  a  priori  certitude  and  "  natural  verities"  to  dream  of  imputing  to 
the  axiom  any  transcendental  virtue. 

Still  the  examples  that  Mr.  Russell  has  cited  as  impugning  it,  do  not  appear  to 


284  THE  MONIST. 

me  to  be  of  a  nature  fit  to  confirm  his  opinion.  I  beg  leave  to  discuss  them  briefly, 
in  virtue  besides  of  the  purely  scientific  interest  that  attaches  to  the  question 

One  of  these  examples  is  borrowed  from  the  solar  system.  Mr.  Russell  holds 
that  the  planets  ought  to  be  considered  as  being  in  equilibrium  with  the  sun,  with- 
out, (as  the  axiom  would  have  it  and  since  equilibrium  is  a  symmetric  relation,) 
being  in  equilibrium  with  each  other. 

It  is  certainly  a  scientific  error  from  the  dynamic  point  of  view,  abstraction  be- 
ing made  of  the  initial  velocities,  to  consider  the  role  played  by  the  sun  in  the  sys- 
tem composed  of  the  sun  and  the  planets  to  be  different  from  the  role  played  by  the 
planets,  the  single  distinctive  peculiarity  of  the  sun  in  the  case  being  its  relatively 
enormous  mass,  and,  in  consequence  thereof,  the  closer  proximity  of  its  centre  of 
gravity  to  the  centre  of  gravity  of  the  entire  system. 

But  that  is  only  a  difference  of  degree,  not  of  nature.  In  reality,  the  only  sym- 
metric relation  which  I  perceive  between  the  planets  and  the  sun  is  not  the  relation 
of  equilibrium,  it  is  the  relation  of  mutual  attraction,  such  as  was  discovered  and 
defined  by  Newton.  So  far  from  the  planets  being  in  equilibrium  with  the  sun, 
they  fall  towards  the  sun  each  instant,  abstraction  being  made  of  their  initial  ve- 
locities, and  at  each  instant  the  sun  falls  towards  the  planets.  But  the  same  can  be 
said  of  two  planets,  as  related  each  to  the  other.  There  exists  a  mutual  attraction 
between  them,  like  that  between  each  one  of  them  and  the  sun.  The  example  of 
the  solar  system  does  not  impugn  the  axiom  of  symmetry,  it  is,  on  the  contrary,  a 
confirmation  thereof  ;  perhaps  the  clearest  and  simplest. 

The  same  may  be  said  of  the  geometric  example  invoked  by  Mr.  Russell,  who 
convinced  a  priori  of  the  futility  of  the  axiom,  has  not  taken  good  care  to  weigh  all 
his  objections.  "The  distance  of  points  from  each  other,"  says  Mr.  Russell,  "  is  a 
"  symmetrical  relation,  and  yet  point  A  may  be  from  point  C  the  very  same  distance 
"  that  point  B  is  from  C,  but  the  distance  of  points  A  and  B  from  one  another  may 
"vary  from  coincidence  to  double  the  distance  AC — BC." 

It  is  easy  to  reply  to  this  objection,  which  can  be  interpreted  in  two  ways.  If 
the  nature  of  the  symmetric  relation  that  Mr.  Russell  contemplates  is  the  equality 
of  lengths,  the  axiom  of  symmetry  is  alien  to  the  question,  since  it  supposes  two 
symmetric  relations  as  given,  while  in  the  case  made  only  a  single  relation  of  that 
kind  is  given. 

If  he  refers  simply  to  the  relations  of  relative  position,  or  to  the  coexistence  of 
two  points  in  space,  the  axiom  is  satisfied,  because  two  points  which  coexist  with  a 
third,  coexist  with  each  other. 

If,  lastly,  the  two  points  A  and  B  coincide,  we  are  no  longer  in  condition  to 
apply  the  axiom,  since  the  same  requires  three  distinct  terms. 

There  remains  a  third  example,  drawn  from  the  ethical  domain  ;  namely,  ' '  mu- 
' '  tual  friendship  is  certainly  a  symmetrical  relation,  but  A  and  C  may  be  mutual 
' '  friends,  and  B  and  C  mutual  friends  also,  but  it  in  no  wise  follows  that  A  and  B 
"  are  friends." 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  285 

This  objection,  at  first  blush,  appears  embarrassing.  It  will  evidently  not  suf- 
fice to  answer  in  the  words  of  the  proverb,  that  ' '  the  friends  of  our  friends  are  our 
friends,"  for  a  proverb  is  not  an  axiom.  Since  all  the  embarrassment  here  is  due  to 
the  complication  of  the  relations  considered,  I  am  going,  as  a  preliminary,  to  exam- 
ine two  cases,  which  have  some  resemblance  to  the  present  case,  but  which,  being 
borrowed  from  geometry,  offer  more  simplicity. 

There  is,  to  begin  with,  this  case.  Let  there  be  three  polygons,  P,  P' ,  P" . 
The  side  a  of  the  polygon  P  is  supposed  equal  to  the  side  a'  of  the  polygon  P' ',  and 
the  side  /?  of  the  polygon  P  is  equal  to  the  side  /3  "  of  the  polygon  P".  It  is  evident 
that  the  two  polygons  P  and  P',  being  such  as  might  have  a  side  in  common,  are  in 
virtue  thereof  connected  by  a  symmetric  relation,  and  that  the  same  kind  of  a  rela- 
tion exists  also  between  the  polygons  P  and  P".  If  the  axiom  of  symmetry  is  true, 
Mr.  Russell  would  say  similar  relations  ought  to  exist  between  the  polygons  P'  and 
P",  and  since  we  know  that  such  is  not  the  case  and  that  these  polygons  are  by  no 
necessity  such  as  must  have  any  side  in  common,  it  would  seem  that  the  axiom  of 
symmetry  is  here  at  fault.  The  truth  is,  that  it  is  not  applicable.  The  axiom  sup- 
poses only  three  terms  or  two  conjoint  relations,  and  in  the  ease  considered,  there  are 
four  terms,  a,  a',  /?,  /3',  and  two  disjoint  relations,  a  =  a'  and  /3  ==/?'.  In  order  for 
the  axiom  to  be  applicable,  it  would  be  necessary  that  the  two  relations  should  have 
a  common  term,  which  can  only  obtain  if,  say,  a  =  (3,  and  then  we  would  find  our- 
selves brought  back  to  an  application  of  the  axiom  of  Euclid  with  regard  to  equality. 

We  see,  therefore,  that  before  we  can  apply  the  axiom  of  symmetry  to  the  re- 
lations subsisting  between  a  set  of  component  terms,  it  is  necessary,  in  the  first 
place,  to  ascertain  that  one  of  the  several  terms,  which  enter  directly  into  those  rela- 
tions as  essential,  should  be  identically  the  same  for  one  and  another  of  the  relations 
given.  In  any  other  case  we  would  be  in  error  in  considering  the  relations  as  con- 
joint. We  can  only  say  that  the  axiom  is  true  of  simple  determinate  terms  which 
cannot  be  decomposed  without  disturbing  the  relations  that  connect  them. 

The  second  case  is  also  borrowed  from  geometry.  Two  symmetric  figitres  in 
virtue  of  that  very  symmetry,  are  certainly  connected  by  a  symmetric  relation,  and 
yet  we  know  that  two  figures  that  are  symmetric  with  a  third  figure  are  not  sym- 
metric with  each  other. 

If  the  axiom  of  symmetry  still  appears  faulty,  it  is  not  because  the  relations 
considered  are  disjoint ;  it  is  because  it  is  applicable  only  to  simple  relations  that 
subsist  between  two  determinate  terms,  while  geometric  symmetry  is  a  relation  in- 
volving three  determinate  terms,  namely,  the  two  figures  considered  and  the  point, 
axis,  or  plane,  of  symmetry. 

We  can  now,  by  way  of  analogy,  attack  the  complex  case  cited  by  Mr.  Russell, 
and  show  why  it  is  that  the  axiom  of  symmetry  is  not  applicable.  And  in  the  first 
place,  a  person,  a  being,  is  not  a  unity,  objectively  considered,  and  as  for  moral 
personality,  it  is  a  very  complex  whole  of  various  manifestations ;  subjectively,  no 
more  is  the  unity  realised,  and  the  researches  upon  hysteria  have  conclusively  proved 


286  THE   MONIST. 

the  theory  of  Hume  that  every  mind  is  a  loose  or  a  more  or  less  compact  tissue  of 
sensations,  ideas,  and  emotions,  sometimes  even  broken  up  and  dispersed,  if  not 
even  a  tissue  of  sensations  and  simple  relations  between  sensations.  So  from  two 
points  of  view  we  may  compare  beings  to  sorts  of  moral  polyhedrons,  situated  in  a 
space  of  an  indefinite  number  of  dimensions,  and  formed  of  a  quasi-indefinite  number 
of  faces  in  process  of  perpetual  deformation. 

Thus,  relations  of  mutual  friendship  correspond  to  the  possible  fact  that  in  the 
midst  of  these  incessant  transformations  there  is  frequently  between  the  two  moral 
polyhedrons  considered  certain  determinate  faces  in  common.  We  can  well  under- 
stand by  this  figure  that  a  mutual  friendship  does  not  directly  connect  two  beings, 
but  only  certain  of  their  manifestations,  or  certain  of  their  hypothetical  states  of 
consciousness.  Friendship  connects  persons  in  this  only,  that  their  manifestations 
or  their  states  of  consciousness  make  up  an  integral  part  of  their  personality.  Fre- 
quently the  manifestations  a,  under  which  appeared  in  C  the  friendship  which 
connected  him  to  A,  are  different  from  the  manifestations  ft,  which  connected  him  to 
B.  The  faces  common  to  the  moral  polyhedrons  A  and  C  are  not,  then,  the  same 
as  the  faces  which  are  common  to  the  polyhedrons  B  and  C,  and  hence  the  polyhe- 
drons A  and  B.  have  not  of  necessity  any  faces  in  common,  and  the  beings  A  and 
B  are  not  of  necessity  mutual  friends.  But,  as  I  desire  to  show,  this  does  not  im- 
pugn the  axiom  of  symmetry.  The  conditions  that  it  supposes  are  not  fulfilled. 

In  the  second  place,  in  order  to  make  definite  any  special  relation  of  mutual 
friendship,  it  will  not  suffice  merely  to  point  out  the  two  determinate  persons  con- 
nected by  it,  it  is  necessary  also  to  show  its  determinate  foundation,  which  is  almost 
always  a  community  of  tastes,  some  common  passions,  some  moral  trait.  In  short, 
mutual  friendship  is  a  relation  of  three  or  more  determinate  terms.  It  is  a  sort  of 
geometric  symmetry,  the  quality  in  common  here  playing  the  role  of  an  axis  of 
symmetry.  There  exists  also  an  infinity  of  kinds  of  relations  of  friendship,  and  the 
axiom  of  symmetry  cannot  rationally  be  applied  to  a  case  where  the  two  relations 
given  are  of  different  sorts.  For  example,  William,  who  is  fond  of  hunting  and  fish- 
ing, has  for  friends,  John,  who  is  fond  only  of  hunting,  and  James,  who  is  fond  only 
of  fishing  ;  but  John,  who  is  afraid  of  rheumatism,  and  James,  who  dreads  the  fatigue 
of  walking,  have  not  by  reason  of  these  connexions  with  William  any  cause  to  con- 
nect themselves  with  one  another. 

In  the  third  place  (and  really  I  find  myself  led  nearly  to  the  making  of  a  scien- 
tific course  of  ethics)  in  the  relations  of  moral  and  social  order  large  account  is  to  be 
taken  of  the  complications  which  oppose  the  realisation  of  the  possible  relations. 

We  know  that  in  mechanics,  in  chemistry,  in  physics,  such  complications  inter- 
vene in  a  great  number  of  cases  and  falsify  the  results  that  we  would  have  the  right 
to  infer  if  the  bodies  were  always  able  to  obey  the  mechanical,  thermal,  elastic,  or 
electric  forces  that  influence  them.  In  the  dynamics  of  persons  the  same  is  the 
case,  but  the  complications  are  besides  frequent,  complex,  and  extended.  Liberty, 
that  is  to  say  considering  merely  the  mental  complications  that  restrain  activity,  is 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  2  8 

as  little  to  be  realised  as  is  the  absolute  zero  of  temperature  or  of  electric  tension. 
Tyranny  and  the  immorality  of  governments,  the  conflicting  appetences  of  individ- 
uals, the  contradictory  passions  of  the  individual  himself  are  so  many  complications 
which  conspire  to  restrain  the  human  activity.  It  is  only  upon  rare  and  transient 
occasions  that  the  manifestations  of  any  person  are  conditioned  and  governed  by  his 
own  proper  activity  independently  of  the  excitations  or  the  restraints  due  to  alien 
activities.  We  can  sometimes  observe  such  occasions  but  we  can  never  produce 
them  in  their  full  estate,  and  thus  many  of  the  particular  relations  that  are  possible 
escape  our  notice. 

All  which  being  duly  considered,  that  which  we  observe,  that  we  call  a  relation 
between  persons,  is  not  the  relation  itself,  it  is  its  realisation,  that  is  to  say,  the 
effective  repetition  of  the  facts  upon  which  it  is  founded.  Or  a  true  relation,  or  at  least 
the  true  notion  of  a  relation,  does  not  consist  in  the  facts  but  in  the  prevision  of  the 
facts,  those  facts  which  emerge  if  A  and  B  are  brought  together  under  certain  de- 
terminate conditions,  which  conditions  are,  however,  seldom  realisable.  Hence  this 
conclusion  follows,  that  in  the  study  of  the  laws  of  moral  science  and  of  sociology 
that  which  is  necessary  to  be  considered  if  we  wish  to  discover  the  actual  laws  we 
are  seeking,  are  not  the  too  complex  facts  of  habitual  observation  but  the  simple 
facts  which  emerge  if  the  conditions  of  solidarity  are  satisfied,  and  if  the  interior 
complications  of  the  system  considered  are  neglected.  It  is  in  this  sense  that  we  must 
understand  the  observation  of  Stuart  Mill,  that  the  sciences  in  question  can  be 
treated  only  by  means  of  deduction.  It  is  in  this  way  that  we  are  able  and  that  we 
ought  to  regard  those  relations  that  while  inaccessible  to  observation  are,  however, 
the  real  elements  of  the  relations  that  are  actually  perceived. 

For  example,  the  community  of  tastes,  the  foundation  of  their  mutual  friend- 
ship is  the  same  between  William  and  John  as  between  William  and  James,  still  if 
the  circumstances  are  such  that  John  and  James  do  not  happen  to  meet,  or  if  there 
exists  between  the  two  an  enmity  arising  from  the  opposition  of  their  interests,  it  is 
evident  that  John  and  James  may  never  become  friends,  or,  in  the  latter  case,  may 
continue  to  dislike  one  another  cordially,  while  at  the  same  time  loving  William  the 
common  friend  none  the  less.  Nevertheless,  we  should  by  application  of  the  axiom 
of  symmetry  infer  a  relation  in  the  logical  sense  of  the  word  between  John  and 
James.  That  axiom  signifies,  indeed,  simply  that  certain  manifestations  occur  if  such 
and  such  conditions  are  satisfied.  It  does  not  signify  that  those  manifestations 
actually  occur. 

To  resume,  I  think  I  have  shown  that  the  axiom  of  symmetry,  which  I  am  not 
alone  in  enouncing,  but  which  has  often  been  invoked  under  various  forms  notably 
by  DeMorgan  ("  Memoir,"  IV),  is  not  undermined  by  the  examples  that  Mr.  Russell 
offers  to  me.  But  in  order  for  it  to  be  applicable  it  is  necessary  that  the  following 
conditions  should  be  fulfilled. 

The  relations  given  must  be  two  in  number,  neither  of  which  has  more  than 
two  entirely  determinate  terms  opposed  in  sense  to  each  other.  The  relations  must 


288  THE   MONIST. 

be  symmetric  and  possess  a  common  term.  If  this  common  term  is  complex  the 
two  relations  must  refer  essentially  and  exclusively  to  the  same  determinate  common 
element. 

All  this  can  be  summed  up  briefly  by  saying  that  the  terms  of  the  axiom  are 
distinct,  irreducible,  and  three  in  number,  oppositely  arranged  in  pairs  by  the  same 
sort  of  relations  independent  of  sense. 

I  may  as  well  add  that  the  axiom  of  symmetry  is  only  a  particular  case  of  an 
axiom  still  more  general  which  I  have  called  the  "axiom  of  the  three  senses,"  and 
which  I  have  specially  examined  in  a  paper  upon  the  "  Le  sens  de  1'inegalite  "  (Revue 
Philosophique,  No.  197). 

As  regards  this  paper  Mr.  Benj.  Ives  Oilman  has,  with  a  luxury  of  symbols  to 
my  mind  perfectly  useless,  taken  the  question  up  again  in  an  article  (Mind,  New 
Series,  No.  4)  of  which  The  Monist  of  January,  1893,  contains  a  brief  analysis.  I 
am  glad  on  this  occasion  to  join  in  testifying  that  the  fundamental  principles  which 
enable  us  to  simplify  and  unite  our  objective  cognitions  are  beginning  to  win  for 
themselves  a  recognised  place  in  the  sphere  of  the  philosophic  studies. 

ii.    SPENCER'S  PRINCIPLE. 

It  is  an  error,  in  my  judgment,  for  Mr.  Russell  to  give  the  name  of  Mr.  Spencer 
to  the  axiom  of  symmetry.  Mr.  Spencer  has  enounced  a  principle  which  is  as  fol- 
lows: "Two  things  which  have  a  definite  relation  to  a  third  thing,  have  a  definite 
relation  to  one  another."  But  this  principle  of  Mr.  Spencer  is  distinct  from  the 
axiom  of  symmetry.  It  is  completely  separated  therefrom  by  its  more  general  ob- 
ject, by  the  nature  of  its  conclusion,  and  by  its  subjective  origin. 

By  its  object. — The  principle  of  Mr.  Spencer  refers  to  any  two  conjoint  rela- 
tions ;  the  axiom  of  symmetry  refers  to  two  symmetric  relations  exclusively.  The 
principle  of  Mr.  Spencer  is  unqualifiedly  general ;  the  axiom  of  symmetry  touches 
only  a  particular  case. 

By  the  nature  of  its  conclusion. — It  follows  from  this  first  point  of  distinction 
that  before  applying  the  axiom  of  symmetry  to  any  particular  case,  it  will  be  advis- 
able to  apply  to  it  the  principle  of  Mr.  Spencer.  This  principle  then  makes  known  to 
us  that  between  two  things  connected  to  a  third  thing  by  a  symmetric  relation  there 
exists  a  certain  definite  relation,  but  it  makes  known  nothing  further.  It  does  not 
make  known  the  nature  of  that  relation,  which  is  completely  definite  the  moment 
that  its  relational  elements  are  given.  The  axiom  of  symmetry  adds  another  con- 
clusion to  this  first  one  because  it  tells  us  that  between  the  two  things  under  con- 
sideration there  exists,  beyond  the  new  relation  that  has  just  been  spoken  of  and 
defined,  a  symmetric  relation  which  is  of  the  same  natiire  as  are  the  symmetric  rela- 
tions given.  The  first  relation  inferred  is  made  definite  by  these,  but  the  second 
relation  is  certified  as  the  same  as  these.  In  practice  these  two  kinds  of  relations 
become  confused  together  or  rather  the  first  one  escapes  notice  so  that  the  same  has 
not  received  any  special  name. 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  289 

By  its  subjective  origin. — The  axiom  of  symmetry  expresses  a  fact  of  experience, 
a  conclusion  that  is  not  contained  in  the  premises,  and  of  which  the  negation  can 
without  difficulty  be  conceived.  The  proof  of  this  is  the  very  objection  of  Mr. 
Russell,  who  not  only  conceives  this  negation  but  affirms  the  reality  of  it.  The 
principle  of  Mr.  Spencer  is,  on  the  contrary,  a  condition  of  conception.  We  cannot 
even  conceive  that  it  may.  be  not  true.  In  the  language  of  Kant  we  might  say  that 
the  principle  of  Mr.  Spencer  is  analytic  and  that  the  axiom  of  symmetry  is  synthetic  : 
I  prefer,  however,  to  say  that  the  former  is  a  law  of  thought  and  that  the  latter  is  a 
law  of  nature.* 

As  a  corollary  the  principle  of  Mr.  Spencer  borrows  nothing  from  the  axiom  of 
symmetry  and  that  axiom  may  be  found  defective  without  compromising  the  exacti- 
tude of  the  principle. 

III.      MY  THEORY  OF  RELATIONS. 

The  true  point  of  departure  of  the  theory  that  I  have  given  of  the  nature  of 
concepts  is  not  and  cannot  be  the  axiom  of  symmetry,  since  that  is  a  simple  objec- 
tive verity  which  does  not  directly  concern  the  mode  of  the  development  of  cogni- 
tion. This  point  of  departure  is  the  principle  of  Mr.  Spencer  or  rather  its  reciprocal 
about  which  Mr.  Spencer  has  not  spoken. 

Generalising  his  principle,  to  begin  with,  we  may  say  that  every  complex  of 
relations  constitutes  a  new  concept.  Then  I  go  still  further  and  reversing  the  con- 
clusion I  have  given  this  first  and  fundamental  principle. 

Every  concept,  every  relation  is  made  tip  of  a  complex-  of  relations. 

This  principle  in  practice  scarcely  advances  us  to  the  point  of  view  of  the  anal- 
ysis of  ideas.  If  the  relations  which  enter  into  a  concept  resolve  only  in  functions 
of  the  concept  itself,  if  in  analysing  any  given  notion  we  must  after  a  course  more 
or  less  extensive  return  again  to  the  same  notion  we  will  thus  only  go  round  and 
round  in  a  circle.  But  I  have  added  the  second  fundamental  principle  which  over- 
comes the  difficulty. 

The  series  of  concepts  established  by  the  first  principle  is  a  continuous  one  and  it 
has  a  double  SENSE — unique  and  determinate. 

There  is  in  point  of  fact  an  ascending  sense  from  the  particular  to  the  general 
and  a  descending  sense  from  the  general  to  the  particular,  and  in  each  sense  the 
same  concept  is  once  only  to  be  encountered.  Every  concept  occupies  in  the  general 
series  a  unique  and  determinate  position.  We  are  thus  able  to  say  that  every  con- 
cept is  derived  from  concepts  that  are  more  simple  and  more  directly  known,  and 
itself  gives  birth  to  concepts  that  are  less  simple  and  less  directly  known.  As  a 
corollary  we  must  take  notice  that  every  concept  is  subject  to  a  single,  logical  defi- 


*  Between  the  principle  and  the  axiom  there  is  the  same  kind  of  an  opposition  as  there  is  be- 
tween a  notion  and  a  law,  an  opposition  upon  which  I  have  insisted  in  referring  to  the  article  of 
Mr.  Hobhouse,  noticed  by  Mr.  Russell  (Mind,  New  Series,  No.  II). 


2QO  THE    MONIST. 

nition,  a  truth  too  often  overlooked,  thanks  to  the  perpetual  metaphysical  confusion 
between  notions  and  things,  between  cognition  and  its  objects. 

I  have  ended  by  this  third  principle,  not  less  fundamental,  which  has  been 
known  ever  since  the  time  of  Aristotle,  and  which  DeMorgan  was  one  of  the  first  to 
restate  in  a  scientific  form,  that  is  the  principle  of  relativity,  namely  : 

Every  concept  supposes  another  one  which  is  opposite  fin  nature)  and  single;  each 
one  of  the  two  contrary  concepts  being  defined  by  the  negation  of  the  other  in  the  rela- 
tional complex  constitutive  of  a  more  general  concept,  one  relation  being  affirmed  by 
the  opposite  concept,  and  inversely.  That  is  to  say,  to  borrow  a  common  image,  that 
the  tree  which  represents  the  development  of  cognition  and  whose  roots  are  our 
states  of  consciousness,  does  not  ramify  in  whorls,  but  only  in  dichotomies. 

These  three  principles  of  logic  or  fundamental  laws  of  thought  (entirely  distinct 
from  the  scholastic  tautologies  known  under  the  same  name)  the  principle  of  con- 
structivity,  the  principle  of  logical  evolution,  and  the  principle  of  relativity  *  cover 
the  entire  subject. 

It  is  convenient  to  separate  them  from  the  subsidiary  conditions,  those  of  co- 
existence and  of  solidarity,  whose  role  is  simply  to  define  what  is  to  be  understood 
by  a  complex  of  relations.  In  regard  to  what  I  have  called  the  condition  of  abstrac- 
tion (or  the  principle  of  indetermination)  which  appears  to  frighten  Mr.  Russell,  it 
is  only  a  way  of  expressing  the  fact  that  in  each  concept  there  is  a  determinate  de- 
gree of  generality,  a  degree  which  conditions  the  indispensable  connexion  between 
the  concept  and  the  reality  of  the  facts  that  the  concept  supposes.  This  condition 
of  abstraction  is  the  conceptual  counterpart  of  the  law  abstractly  enounced  by 
Stuart  Mill  under  the  name  of  the  law  of  the  uniformity  of  nature.  It  is  needless 
to  stumble  over  the  meaning  of  this  condition.  It  simply  means  that  in  order  to  be 
general,  every  cognition  must  be  somewhat  indeterminate,  which  indetermination 
does  not,  as  Mr.  Russell  thinks,  reside  in  the  relational  elements,  those  being  per- 
fectly determinate,  but  resides  in  some  of  the  terms,  in  the  last  analysis  in  some  of 
the  things  or  states  of  consciousness  apart  from  the  concepts.  The  concrete  exam- 
ples which  I  have  given  forbid  any  mistake  in  that  respect. 

I  come  now  to  the  most  important  of  the  observations  which  Mr.  Russell  has 
formulated.  At  the  very  beginning  of  my  paper  I  stated  this  preliminary  question, 
What  is  a  relation  and  what  is  a  concept  ?  Mr.  Russell  objects  that  it  is  not  suffi- 
cient to  show  that  a  relation  is  a  composite  of  other  relations  more  directly  known, 
that  such  is  not  a  satisfactory  answer  to  the  question. 

To  answer  the  question  there  are  two  points  of  view  at  which  one  can  place 
himself,  the  logical  point  of  view  and  that  of  pure  psychology. 

The  second  point  of  view  is  that  of  Mr.  Russell.  The  question  is  then  to  ascer- 
tain not  what  is  a  relation  but  what  is  relation,  what  may  be  that  which  constitutes 


*  This  would  be  better  named  the  principle  of  duality,  the  word  relativity  having  been  put  to 
so  many  uses  that  it  has  finished  by  losing  all  precise  meaning. 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  2QI 

the  subjective  element,  directly  apparent,  which  causes  a  determinate  assemblage 
of  states  of  consciousness  to  have  a  relative  character. 

This  question  I  have  certainly  not  answered,  and  I  have  not  answered  it  be- 
cause I  have  nothing  to  do  with  it.  I  took  good  care  from  the  very  beginning  of 
my  papers,*  even  before  stating  any  question  whatever,  to  mark  out  my  range  and 
to  reduce  it  to  that  of  pure  logic,  merely. 

I  took  as  data  all  cognitions  that  were  established  and  indisputable,  all  the 
principles  and  all  the  notions  that  we  study  in  psychology,  all  those  of  the  exterior 
world,  those  of  matter,  of  time,  of  space,  and  even  the  notion  of  relation  itself.  In- 
fine  to  avoid  every  encroachment  upon  psychology  I  even  forbade  myself  from 
choosing  any  of  my  concrete  examples  of  quantity  from  geometry  or  kinematics. 
I  thus  placed  myself  at  the  logical  point  of  view  exclusively,  and  I  hold  it  for  cer- 
tain that  I  have  satisfied  the  exigences  of  that  science  by  showing  that  the  concepts 
of  scientific  order  are  composed  of  less  complex  elements  which  are  reducible  to 
differences  of  the  divers  states  of  consciousness,  by  pointing  out  the  order  and  the 
conditions  of  the  derivation  of  concepts,  in  a  word,  by  describing  all  the  conditions 
for  the  passage  from  the  known  to  the  unknown  independently  of  the  question  of 
the  primary  origin  of  the  known. 

There  is,  it  is  true,  in  the  theory  which  I  maintain,  an  important,  though  volun- 
tary gap,  a  gap,  alas  !  that  certain  logicians  would  find  regrettable.  I  have  not  studied 
concepts  under  their  verbal  forms  of  expression,  in  their  relations  with  language. 
This  is  because  in  accordance  with  the  great  philosopher,  Mr.  Spencer,  of  whose 
labors  I  avail  myself,  I  consider  that  all  questions  that  relate  merely  to  the  ways  of 
expressing  thought  are  foreign  to  the  domain  of  pure  logic.  Language,  even  philo- 
sophic language,  is  an-affair  of  the  grammar  and  the  dictionary.  The  questions  as 
to  the  distinguishing  of  all  the  significations  of  the  copula  "is,"  as  to  all  the  forms 
of  the  syllogism,  as  to  all  the  "quantifications"  of  propositions,  belong  only  indi- 
rectly to  logic.  Besides,  this  mode  of  dealing  with  reasoning,  the  triumph  of  scho- 
lasticism, has  been  completely  treated  by  a  very  great  number  of  authors.  They 
have  said  all  that  there  is  to  be  said  upon  the  subject,  and  peevish  minds  might  per- 
haps add  that  they  have  said  much  more  than  there  was  to  be  said.  Our  usual 
language  formed  by  the  necessities  of  life  has  been  adjudged  insufficient  and  sym- 
bols have  been  substituted  for  it  "  Reasoning  machines"  have  even  been  invented. 
As  for  myself,  without  going  so  far  as  to  regard  as  certain  that  these  ' '  improve- 
ments" have  been  rather  of  a  nature  to  discredit  logic  than  to  put  it  upon  a  scientific 
basis,  I  nevertheless  hold  that  they  ought  to  be  excluded  from  the  region  of  pure 
logic.  I  believe  that  no  progress  in  the  laws  of  the  latter  can  be  attained  by  any 
combination  of  symbols  however  learned  they  may  be,  but  only  by  a  study  perhaps 
arduous  but  necessary,  of  the  laws  and  notions  that  the  sciences  offer  to  us. 


*  See  especially  pages  65  and  66  of  No.  181  of  the  RevutPrtihsopM/ut,  also  note  2  on  page  117 
and  pages  132  and  133  of  No.  188. 


2Q2  THE  MONIST. 

Rightly  understood,  however,  I  do  not  dream  of  excluding  from  logic,  as  I  regard 
it,  the  questions  relating  to  its  proper  nomenclature.  It  is  plain  that  it  would  be  useful 
to  unify  this,  which  would  be  only  to  avoid  divergences  of  language  analogous  to  those 
that  have  arisen  between  Mr.  Russell  and  myself. 

"  Relations,"  observes  Mr.  Russell,  "are  attributive  predicates  of  terms."  For 
instance,  between  father  and  son  Mr.  Russell  sees  two  distinct  relations,  that  of  the 
father  to  the  son  and  that  of  the  son  to  the  father.  Conforming  myself,  I  believe  to 
the  ordinary  language  as  well  as  to  the  language  of  philosophy,  I  see  only  in  that  case 
a  single  relation,  and  what  Mr.  Russell  calls  a  simple  relation  is  only  the  sense  in 
which  one  regards  a  relation,  or  if  one  pleases  the  relative  place  of  a  term  in  a  rela- 
tion or  in  a  complex  of  relations,  that  is  to  say  that  which  is  ordinarily  called  an 
attribute  of  a  term.  "Dual  relations  "  are  what  I  call  a  relation  and  "  relationship," 
what  I  call  the  foundation.  Very  certainly  it  would  be  preferable  to  have  a  com- 
mon terminology,  but  it  is  not,  however,  necessary  to  infer  from  the  divergence  of 
language  as  my  honorable  opponent  tends  to  do,  a  difference  of  doctrine. 

There  is,  nevertheless,  a  matter  in  which  I  am  not  able  to  follow  Mr.  Russell 
in  his  reflexions  upon  the  theory  of  relations,  because  this  divergence  of  language 
then  involves  not  merely  a  matter  of  words,  but  a  matter  of  ideas.  After  having 
chosen  as  an  example  of  relations,  a  complex  of  three  determinate  terms,  that  of  the 
donation  of  a  determinate  thing,  Mr.  Russell  passes  to  the  consideration  of  the  rela- 
tion of  the  mutual  attraction  between  bodies  and  would  there  find  still  three  deter- 
minate terms  comprising  besides  the  two  bodies  between  which  the  attractions  exist 
a  certain  "  mediating"  term  which  he  calls  the  attraction  of  gravitation.  It  is  sure 
that  this  way  of  regarding  relations  has  no  correspondence  with  the  theory  which  I 
maintain  and  of  which  the  very  foundation  is  the  exclusion  of  every  metaphysical 
entity,  an  exclusion  made  by  George  Berkeley  and  by  David  Hume,  and  for  which 
there  exists  no  reason  whatever  to  return. 

IV.      MATHEMATICAL  EQUALITY. 

Mr.  Russell  is  mistaken  as  to  the  object  of  the  second  part  of  my  paper,  which 
treats  of  mathematical  equality,  and  his  mistake  appears  to  me  scarcely  explicable 
when  I  consider  the  care  I  took  to  multiply  the  concrete  examples. 

"  There  is,"  says  Mr.  Russell,  "  numerical  equality  upon  which  the  equality  in 
service  in  numeric  algebra  is  founded,  and  there  is  geometric  equality,  the  equality 
of  vectors,  etc.,"  all  "different  from  one  another.  M.  Mouret  seems  to  have  numeric 
equality  only,  in  view."  Now,  in  order  to  give  an  exact  account  of  my  doctrine, 
this  assertion  should  be  just  turned  about.  Of  all  the  conceivable  kinds  of  equality, 
the  single  one  that  I  did  not  meddle  with  was  precisely  numeric  equality.  The 
particular  equalities  which  I  analysed  in  detail  were  the  equality  of  mass,  of  stress, 
of  temperature,  of  quantity  of  heat,  etc.,  independently  of  all  questions  of  measure, 
because  as  I  have  said  and  as  I  am  going  to  repeat,  measurement  supposes  equality. 
Indeed  my  paper  might  better  have  borne  the  title  "  Mathematical  Equivalence," 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  293 

and  if  I  had  recourse  to  the  word  "  equality  "  it  was  only  to  conform  myself  to  the 
ordinary  language,  the  word  equivalence  being  reserved  for  very  special  cases. 

There  exists  at  least  in  France  a  numerous  class  of  authors,  mostly  composed 
of  mathematicians,  who  consider  mathematics  as  the  science  of  combinations,  having 
for  points  of  departure  certain  conventions  made  with  numbers,  independent  of 
reality  in  general  and  of  the  physical  magnitudes  in  particular. * 

It  is  partly  by  way  of  protest  against  these  superficial  doctrines,  against  these 
philosophical  paupers  that  I  have  occupied  myself  in  analysing  the  fundamental 
notions  of  mathematics,  and  my  design  on  this  behalf  has  been  to  bring  into  view 
the  truth  that  under  the  symbols  and  notions  of  mathematics  there  are  notions  rela- 
tively concrete.  If  geometry,  mechanics,  or  the  physical  sciences  had  not  existed 
there  would  have  been  no  mathematics  possible.  As  I  have  said  elsewhere,  a  sym- 
bol is  such  only  on  condition  of  symbolising  something  ;  otherwise  it  is  nonsense. 
Numerical  equality  is  only  an  abstraction  symbolised.  I  had  to  show  that  which  is 
concealed  underneath  the  equivalence  of  masses,  of  forces,  of  vectors,  etc.  This  I 
believe  I  have  done,  but  I  have  not  preoccupied  myself  with  numerical  equality  it- 
self. That  is  a  matter  I  have  left  entirely  aside. 

On  the  subject  of  the  role  played  by  equality,  numerical  or  not,  in  mathematics, 
Mr.  Russell  has  made  a  remark,  which  I  must  examine,  because  it  tends  to  noth- 
ing less  than  to  suppress  the  mathematical  relativity.  I  have  stated  as  a  principle, 
that  the  relation  of  equality  is  fundamental  and  that  the  very  existence  of  mathe- 
matics is  bound  up  in  the  existence  of  that  relation.  Mr.  Russell  observes  that 
there  exists,  or  that  there  might  exist,  a  branch  of  algebraic  or  numeric  analysis 
having  for  its  sole  avail  the  relation  of  inequality.  He  adds  that  the  relation  of 
equality  is  itself  a  composite  of  the  two  relations  "not  less  than  "  and  "not  more 
than,"  that  is  to  say,  derived  from  inequality.  He  concludes  that  a  mathematics 
can  be  formed  without  the  use  of  the  relation  of  equality. 

All  these  assertions  are  entirely  correct,  but  they  do  not  infringe  upon  my  theory. 
I  said,  and  I  give  again  my  own  expressions,  "mathematics  would  not  exist,  if  we 
"  did  not  have  the  notion  of  mathematical  equality.  All  the  functions  (mathemat- 
ical relations)  involve  this  relation."  I  did  not  say  that  every  mathematical  relation 
necessarily  comprises  this  relation.  That  would  not  be  exact.  What  I  persist  in 
maintaining  is  that  mathematics  essentially  supposes  equality  ;  in  precise  terms, 
that  we  cannot  conceive  of  any  mathematical  relation  without  being  constrained,  as 
a  preliminary,  to  conceive  relation  of  equality.  The  reason  which  I  invoke  is  the 
mathematical  relativity. 

My  opponent  remarks  with  truth,  that  the  relation  of  equality  may  be  consid- 
ered as  the  negation  of  two  relations  of  inequality  of  opposite  senses,  —  this  is  pre- 


*  Not  all  the  mathematicians,  however,  partake  of  this  opinion.  Among  others,  Dr.  Paul 
Du  Bois-Reymond,  in  Germany,  M.  M.  Sorel,  Couturat,  etc.,  in  France.  See  especially  on  this 
subject  the  excellent  remarks  of  M.  Couturat  in  the  first  number  of  the  new  Revue  de  Metaphysique 
et  de  Morale,  p.  79. 


2Q4  THE  MONIST. 

cisely  what  I  explained  with  detail  in  my  paper  upon  "  Le  sens  de  1'inegalite," — but 
it  ought  to  be  added  that  inequality  itself  can  also  be  considered  as  the  negation  of 
equality.  At  bottom,  equality  and  inequality  are  two  correlative  notions  logically 
equivalent  to  one  another.  It  is  as  easy  to  dispense  with  the  one  as  with  the  other, 
nor  can  we  think  of  the  one  without  thinking  also  of  the  other.  The  thought,  or  rather 
the  cognition,  of  these  two  relations  is  unique,  but  it  has  two  faces,  two  contraries, 
as  Hegel  said  ;  two  contraries  that  mutually  support  and  determine  one  another  in 
the  same  manner  and  for  the  same  reason  that  the  idea  of  one  half  of  an  apple  im- 
plies the  idea  of  the  other,  half,  even  though  that  other  half  may  be  swallowed  and 
digested. 

It  appears  to  me,  then,  not  rash  at  all  to  maintain  that  without  the  notion  of 
equality  there  would  be  no  mathematics,  and  this  for  exactly  the  same  reason  that 
the  same  would  not  exist  without  the  notion  of  inequality. 

I  must  now  excus.e  myself  for  having  been  so  lengthy,  but  truly  the  occasion 
was  a  tempting  one,  for  Mr.  Russell  presented  his  objections  with  such  clearness 
and  sincerity  as  to  give  me  solid  ground  for  some,  perhaps  indispensable,  elucida- 
tions. 

GEORGE  MOURET. 


BOOK  REVIEWS. 


OUTLINES  OF  THE  HISTORY  OF  DOGMA.  By  Dr,  Adolf  Harnack,  Professor  of  Church 
History  in  the  University  at  Berlin.  Translated  by  Edwin  Knox  Mitchell, 
M.  A.,  Professor  of  Graeco-Roman  and  Eastern  Church  History  in  Hartford 
Theological  Seminary.  New  York  :  Funk  &  Wagnalls  Company,  1893. 

This  is  one  of  the  most  important  books  of  the  day,  inasmuch  as  it  represents 
the  latest  results  of  modern  historic  criticism  in  the  field  of  Christian  dogma.  There 
was  much  need  for  such  a  book,  written  from  the  standpoint  of  impartial  scholar- 
ship, to  offset  the  extravagancies  of  sectarians  of  every  stripe  who  seek  to  measure 
all  history  by  the  false  plummet  of  their  own  partisan  interest. 

Strange  to  say,  Dr.  Harnack' s  volume  exactly  reverses  the  pretensions  and 
merits  of  most  other  works  on  religious  history  ;  they  profess  to  be  impartial  though 
they  are  really  ex  parte,  while  this,  the  spirit  of  which  is  in  reality  perfectly  fair 
and  judicial,  is  characterised  by  an  obtrusive  affectation  of  partisanship.  This 
phenomenon  is  to  be  accounted  for  by  the  fact  that  its  author  belongs  to  a  faculty 
of  theology  the  members  of  which  are  obliged  to  promise  at  the  outset  to  defend  and 
teach  the  Lutheran  religion.  As  the  tenure  of  office  is  nominally  dependent  upon 
this  profession,  it  is  a  natural  consequence  that  the  free  conclusions  of  a  serious  and 
unbiassed  Quellenforschung  should  be  lavishly  decked  out  with  the  tinsel  chains  of 
orthodox  asseveration,  as  we  see  in  the  present  case. 

The  book  is  not  meant  to  be  a  history  of  Christian  doctrine  in  general,  but  of 
dogma  alone.  Dogma  is  understood  in  the  sense  of  doctrines  formally  defined  and 
promulgated  by  ecclesiastical  authority,  and  its  history  is  supposed  to  have  com- 
menced with  the  Council  of  Nicaea  and  to  have  closed  with  the  Councils  of  Trent 
and  the  Vatican.  In  these  two  Councils  "the  Catholic  Church  has  abandoned  the 
original  motive  of  dogmatic  Christianity,  and  has  placed  a  wholly  new  motive  in  its 
stead,  retaining  the  mere  semblance  of  the  old  "  ;  while  the  evangelical  churches 
"questioned  the  significance  of  the  empirical  church  as  regards  the  dogma,  and 
above  all  they  tried  to  put  forward  a  formulation  of  the  Christian  religion  which 
goes  directly  back  to  the  '  true  understanding  of  the  word  of  God.'  Thus  in  prin- 
ciple the  ancient  dogmatic  conception  of  Christianity  was  set  aside  ^p.  4)." 


296  THE  MONIST. 

There  is  a  degree  of  arbitrariness  in  the  entire  exclusion  of  the  utterances  of 
the  Protestant  synods  and  convocations,  which  suggests  the  suspicion  that  the  his- 
tory of  dogma  in  the  churches  of  the  Reformation  is  excluded  because  it  is  too  deli- 
cate a  subject  to  be  handled  with  safety  under  the  auspices  of  the  state  church  of 
Germany. 

The  History  of  Dogma  now  before  us  casts  aside  the  distinction  often  made  be- 
tween the  special  history  of  dogma  and  the  general  history  of  dogma,  or  rather  aims 
to  be  a  compendium  of  both. 

The  primitive  Judeo-Christian  religious  conceptions  centered  around  the  person- 
ality of  Christ.  "  The  Gospel  is  the  good  news  of  the  reign  of  the  Almighty  and 
Holy  God,  the  Father  and  Judge  of  the  world  and  of  each  individual  soul"  (p.  15). 
Men  are  placed  under  the  law  of  love  to  God  and  to  one's  neighbor,  which  is  to  be 
attained  by  "self-denial  and  humility  before  God  and  a  heartfelt  trust  in  him." 
The  Old  Testament  was  recognised  as  a  primitive  revelation,  the"  New  Testament 
books  were  not  yet  known,  and  a  strong  spiritual  monotheism  was  maintained,  there 
was  a  ' '  consciousness  of  a  direct  and  living  fellowship  with  God  through  the  gift  of 
the  Spirit,"  and  the  end  of  the  world  was  believed  to  be  near  at  hand. 

In  the  congregations  of  the  diaspora,  and  among  the  Gentile  proselytes,  this 
simple  faith  came  in  contact  with  the  Graeco-Roman  philosophies,  and  especially 
with  the  Platonised  and  Stoicised  Mosaisni  of  Philo.  Therefore  the  Gentile  Chris- 
tianity manifested  two  opposite  tendencies  from  the  beginning.  Justin,  Athenagoras, 
Minutius  Felix,  and  the  other  apologists,  carried  on  the  Stoic-rationalistic  side  of 
the  work  of  Philo,  and  the  Gnostics  its  Platonic  and  religious  side.  The  former 
were  the  more  conservative,  having  no  disposition  to  investigate  the  traditions  of 
the  Church  or  to  explain  their  content.  "  The  Gnostics  sought  in  the  Gospel  a  new 
religion,  the  apologists  by  means  of  the  Gospel  were  confirmed  in  their  religious  moral 
sense"  (p.  119). 

Irenaeus  occupied  an  intermediate  conciliatory  position,  thus  becoming  the 
father  of  the  subsequent  ecclesiastical  Christianity  ;  and  his  syncretic  work  was  per- 
fected in  later  generations,  especially  by  Origen,  whose  system  "was  intended  to  be 
strongly  monistic,"  and  by  Methodius,  who  led  a  reaction  against  the  exaggeration 
of  the  Catholic  gnosis. 

The  naive  naturalism  of  the  early  Christian  communities  was  superseded  by  a 
gradual  development  of  doctrine  in  correspondence  with  the  contemporary  Graeco- 
Roman  philosophy  of  religion  ;  the  pneumatic  Christology  triumphed  over  the  adop- 
tion Christology  and  was  succeeded  by  the  Logos  Christology. 

' '  The  four  stages  of  the  development  of  dogma  (Apologists,  early  Catholic 
Fathers,  Alexandrines,  Methodius  together  with  his  followers)  correspond  to  the 
progressive  religious  and  philosophic  development  of  paganism  during  that  time  : 
philosophical  theory  of  morals,  idea  of  salvation  (theology  and  practice  of  mys- 
teries), Neo-Platonism,  and  reactionary  syncretism  "  (p.  84).  The  crystallisation  of 
the  scattered  Christian  communities  into  a  Christian  Church  began  at  Rome,  and 


BOOK    REVIEWS.  2Q7 

the  local  profession  of  faith  of  the  Roman  Church,  which  had  already  been  formu- 
lated prior  to  the  year  140,  was  imposed  upon  the  whole  Church  with  such  authority 
that  it  is  to  this  day  designated  as  the  Apostles'  Creed.  But  the  construction  of  a 
scientific  theology  was  the  work  not  of  the  Romans,  but  of  the  Greeks  and  the  Egyp- 
tians. The  naivetes  and  enthusiasms  of  the  primitive  Christians,  and  notably  their 
eschatological  interpretations,  survived  in  Rome  long  after  they  had  been  discredited 
in  the  Orient.  Jewish  Christianity  ceased  at  an  early  period  to  be  a  factor  in  Chris- 
tian thought,  and  was  represented  only  by  a  few  obscure  outlying  sects  in  the  ex- 
treme East,  whose  succession  has  been  preserved  in  Islam,  which  is  fundamentally 
a  Jewish-Christian  system. 

The  primitive  naturalism,  as  opposed  to  the  supernaturalism  and  metaphysicism 
of  orthodox  theologians,  was  perpetuated  to  a  certain  degree  in  the  Syrian  Church. 
After  the  deposition  of  Paul  of  Samosata,  the  metropolitan  of  Antioch,  in  268,  Lu- 
cian  and  his  school  still  preserved  his  spirit,  Arianism  burst  forth  from  his  ashes, 
and  even  within  the  limits  of  Nicene  orthodoxy  Antioch  furnished  the  most  sober 
and  critical  theologians  and  exegetists  (e.  g.,  Diodorus  of  Tarsus,  John  Chrysostom, 
and  Theodore  of  Mopsuestia). 

In  the  ultra-philosophic  gnosticising  theology  of  Origen  and  his  successors,  espe- 
cially that  of  Gregory  Thaumaturgus,  the  primitive  Christian  elements  were  reduced 
to  a  minimum,  and  a  refined  polytheism  was  introduced  which  threatened  to  engulf 
the  whole  Church  ;  a  reaction  took  place  under  Peter  of  Alexandria  and  Methodius, 
and  the  victory  of  practical  religious  faith  over  speculative  theology  seemed  to  be 
sealed  by  the  adoption  of  the  Athanasian  formula  at  the  Council  of  Nicaea,  and  its 
final  recognition  as  an  ecumenical  dogma  by  the  Roman  State.  Apollinaris  of 
Laodicea  and  the  Cappadocian  theologians  (Basil,  the  two  Gregories,  etc.) however 
succeeded  in  saving  the  Neo-Platonic  theology  and  endeavored  to  reconcile  the  re- 
ligious and  theological  interests  ;  Rome,  with  its  stubborn  monotheism  (modalism) 
and  Antioch  with  its  critical  rationalism  (adoptionist  tendencies)  being  carried  along 
quite  unwillingly  by  the  subtle  Greek  metaphysicians,  whose  nice  distinctions  and 
recondite  interpretations  they  were  unable  to  thoroughly  understand  or  efficiently 
combat. 

The  Antiochian  adoptionism  burst  out  again  in  the  Nestorian  heresy,  and  in  the 
contest  against  this  the  Roman  modalism  crystallised  into  Eutychianism,  which  sur- 
vived as  Monophysitism  after  its  final  condemnation  at  Chalcedon,  and  lingered  on 
in  the  form  of  Monergism  and  Monotheletism  until  the  eighth  century. 

The  doctrine  of  the  Trinity,  which  had  appeared  with  Tertullian  and  Origen, 
in  the  form  of  a  successive  subordination,  i.  e.,  the  Son  subordinated  to  the  Father 
and  the  Holy  Spirit  to  the  Son,  took  final  shape  in  the  latter  part  of  the  fourth  cen- 
tury as  a  result  of  the  practical  exigencies  of  the  Arian  controversy.  The  Holy 
Spirit  had  never  received  any  special  theological  attention  ;  Nicasa  left  its  position 
still  undecided,  but  when  the  Arians  used  the  subordination  of  the  Spirit  as  an  argu- 
ment to  prove  that  of  the  Son,  the  orthodox  theologians,  especially  the  syncretic 


298  THE   MONIST. 

Cappadocian  school,  with  their  new  Roman  jealousy  for  the  unity  of  the  Godhead, 
and  their  equal  zeal  for  the  integrity  of  the  old  Alexandrian  speculative  orthodoxy, 
formulated  a  doctrine  which  would  reconcile  the  two. 

The  Logos  and  the  Spirit  had  been  more  or  less  of  the  nature  of  y£ons,  and  in 
the  opposition  between  the  world  and  Deity  were  sometimes  credited  to  the  former 
rather  than  the  latter.  But  as  the  practical  interest  gained  upon  the  speculative,  it 
was  found  necessary,  in  order  to  avert  polytheism  and  secure  the  Christian  tradi- 
tions, to  throw  back  these  divine  emanations  into  the  irrefragable  unity  of  the  unique 
Godhead,  a  process  which  was  only  officially  completed  in  the  ninth  and  tenth  cen- 
turies, when  the  Augustinian-Spanish  Filioqite  addition  to  the  Cyrillo-Jerusalemic 
creed  (hitherto  called  the  Nicaeno-Constantinopolitan),  was  gradually  accepted  by 
the  Latin  Christians  generally,  and  at  last  by  the  Roman  Church  itself.  The  so- 
called  Athanasian  creed,  which  grew  up  in  the  eighth  and  ninth  centuries,  gives  it 
its  final  theological  form,  in  which  the  complete  unity  of  the  Godhead  is  perfectly 
assured.  In  the  Orient,  where  the  Filioqne  and  the  Athanasian  symbol  have  never 
won  their  way,  there  to  this  day  prevails  a  tacit  subordinationism  which  veers  be- 
tween a  speculative  tritheism  and  the  gnostic  conception  of  a  trine  of  adorable  ^Eons 
emanating  from  an  attributeless,  impersonal,  actionless  deity. 

Just  as  the  moral  interest  had  given  place  to  the  speculative  in  the  second  and 
third  centuries,  so  the  cultic  and  mystical  succeeded  to  the  speculative  in  the  fifth 
and  sixth.  Two  streams  of  "  mysteriosophy  "  had  come  down  from  the  earliest  days 
of  the  Gentile  Church,  developing  side  by  side,  but  in  opposite  directions,  through- 
out the  period  of  theological  construction  ;  the  Antiochian,  already  strongly  marked 
in  Ignatius,  which  attaches  itself  to  the  cultus  and  the  hierarchy  ;  and  the  Alexan- 
drian, which  is  bound  up  with  spiritual  discipline  and  monkhood.  In  the  first,  the 
layman  is  viewed  as  entirely  passive  ;  while  "  the  second  desires  to  form  virtuosos 
of  religion "  (p.  309).  To  the  former,  historic  Christianity  was  all-important;  the 
latter  tended  to' dissolve  the  historic  in  the  symbolic,  and  the  personal  and  local  in 
the  cosmic.  The  outcome  of  the  speculative  theological  development,  was  the 
recognition  of  deification  as  the  object  of  religion  and  the  very  essence  of  redemp- 
tion. "Instead  of  a  religion  of  pure  reason  and  severest  morality,  such  as  the 
apologists  had  once  represented  Christianity  to  be,  the  latter  became  the  religion  of 
the  most  powerful  consecrations,  of  the  most  mysterious  media,  and  of  a  sensuous 
sanctity."  Already  in  the  third  and  fourth  centuries  "the  tendency  toward  the 
intervention  of  mechanically-atoning  consecrations  (sacraments)  offended  even  vigor- 
ously thinking  heathen  "  (p.  195).  In  the  sixth  century  the  ritual  and  sacramental 
elements  came  to  the  front  as  the  centres  of  interest.  The  end  having  been  already 
clearly  established,  it  was  now  the  means  to  the  longed-for  apotheosis  which  at- 
tracted theological  attention ;  and  hence  the  great  development  of  ritualism  accom- 
panied with  traditionalism.  The  pseudo-Dionysius  developed  the  Catholic  gnosis 
and  brought  together  the  Egyptian  and  Syrian  mysticisms.  John  of  Damascus 
summed  up  and  systematised,  but  already  in  an  artificial  and  formal  way,  the  old 


BOOK   REVIEWS.  2Q9 

orthodoxy,  and  with  it  the  new  mystagogy.  The  Platonic  interest,  which  during 
the  construction  epoch  had  triumphed  over  the  Aristotelian  and  Old  Stoic  tenden- 
cies of  the  early  theology,  now  gave  place  again  to  the  latter,  as  the  traditional  and 
practical  spirit  came  to  the  front ;  but  Platonism  had,  since  the  third  century,  been 
so  thoroughly  welded  with  Christian  doctrine,  or,  rather,  had  entered  so  deeply 
into  the  fundamental  structure  of  theology,  that  it  could  never  again  be  eliminated 
until  the  dogmatic  system  itself  should  be  wholly  disintegrated. 

New  controversies  arose  on  questions  of  cultus  and  discipline  ;  in  the  image 
controversy,  the  Roman  bishop,  supported  by  piety  and  living  tradition,  as  well  as 
the  culture,  art,  and  science  of  the  day,  triumphed  over  an  iconoclasm  which  had 
its  mainspring  in  the  imperial  politics. 

The  practical  spirit  reached  its  culmination  in  Augustine,  whose  extraordinary 
genius  summed  up  the  preceding  history  of  doctine  and  practice,  and  nourished  the 
germs  of  all  future  developments.  He  represented  the  Cappadocian  succession, 
through  Ambrose  and  Victorinus,  and  was,  therefore,  Platonising ;  but  the  meta- 
physical interest  was  in  him  wholly  subordinated  to  the  religious,  the  cosmic  to  the 
personal,  and  the  mystical  to  the  legal. 

The  Roman  jurisprudence  had  given  rise  to  a  strong  legalising  tendency,  which 
first  became  apparent  in  Tertullian,  was  perpetuated  by  Minutius,  Lactantius,  and 
Cyprian,  and  now  wholly  dominated  the  thought  of  Augustine,  through  whose  in- 
fluence it  was  enabled  to  subject  the  orthodox  theology,  which  had  lost  the  brilliant 
constructiveness  and  vigorous  independence  that  had  characterised  the  Alexandrian 
and  even  the  Cappadocian  schools.  The  atonement  wrought  by  the  death  of  Christ 
the  Bible  as  the  law  of  God,  the  heinousness  of  sin,  the  fearful  consequences  of  the 
fall,  the  view  of  God  chiefly  as  the  Supreme  Judge,  for  the  first  time  found  a  place 
in  theology.  He  "  separated  nature  and  grace,"  and  "  discarded  the  intellectualism 
and  optimism  of  antiquity  "  (p.  336).  He  put  guilty  man  on  the  one  hand,  and  the 
living  God  on  the  other.  Human  responsibility  threatened  to  disappear  in  the  em- 
phasis of  divine  sovereignty. 

Augustine  was  the  first  great  theologian  to  strongly  anthropomorphise  God  and 
attribute  to  Him  a  personality  analogous  to  our  own  ;  the  first  to  consider  man 
chiefly  as  a  sinner  ;  the  first  to  lay  prime  stress  upon  an  inward  experience  of  for- 
giveness as  an  important  element  in  spiritual  life.  In  these  particulars,  and  in  the 
formal  recognition  of  the  authority  of  the  Scriptures,  he  was  the  forerunner  of 
Evangelical  Protestantism  ;  and  yet  withal  he  emphasised  more  than  ever  before 
the  authority  of  the  visible  Church,  identified  with  the  kingdom  of  the  Holy  Spirit, 
brought  out  clearly  the  doctrine  of  purgatory,  and  not  only  approved  the  sacra- 
mental system,  but  developed  its  theology  in  its  relation  to  sin  and  grace,  and  thus 
became  the  father  of  mediaeval  and  modern  Catholicism.  He  had  to  combat,  on 
the  one  hand,  the  pietistic  extreme  represented  by  the  Donatists,  to  whom  fell  the 
Montanist  succession ;  and  on  the  other,  the  Antiochian  rationalism  (Stoic  and 
Aristotelian)  which  reappeared  in  the  new  field  of  morality  under  the  name  of  Pe- 


300  THE  MONIST. 

lagianism.  Augustine,  without  questioning  any  of  the  accepted  formulae,  completely 
transformed  theology,  and  introduced  an  entirely  novel  philosophy  of  religion.  The 
old  theology,  in  spite  of  its  moribund  condition,  still  had  vitality  enough  to  throw 
off  some  of  the  Augustinian  extremes,  and  a  semi-Pelagianism,  in  which  the  coope- 
ration of  the  human  will  counted  for  something  in  the  process  of  salvation,  prevailed 
under  the  color  of  Augustinian  phraseology.  This  modified  Augustinianism  not 
only  came  after  a  time  into  almost  universal  acceptance,  but  has  never  since  ceased 
to  exert  a  dominating  influence  in  dogmatic  Christianity,  Catholic  and  Protestant. 

Pope  Gregory  the  Great  (590-604)  mingled  with  it  the  whole  miraculous  appa- 
ratus of  popular  Catholicism,  and  "for  nearly  half  a  millennium  he  dominated 
without  a  rival  the  history  of  dogma  in  the  Occident."  He  emphasised  the  death 
of  Christ  even  more  than  did  Augustine,  and  developed  the  doctrines  of  the  mass, 
of  angel  and  saint  worship,  of  purgatory  and  of  penance,  introducing  them  securely 
into  Catholic  theology. 

In  the  eighth  and  ninth  centuries  there  was  a  revival  of  adoptionism  in  Spain 
(Elipandus),  and  Scotus  Erigena  developed  a  mystic  pantheism  on  Dionysian  and 
Augustinian  premises  ;  and  the  contest  between  the  ecclesiastical  semi-Pelagianism 
and  pure  Augustinianism  was  still  waged  among  the  Franconian  theologians.  But 
the  general  aspect  of  doctrine  and  practice  remained  unchanged  until  the  pietistic 
movement  which  took  place  between  the  tenth  and  thirteenth  centuries.  Under  the 
influence  of  the  "Ecce  Homo,"  brought  back  from  the  Crusades,  "  the  man  Jesus 
came  again  to  the  front,  and  negative  asceticism  received  a  positive  form  and  a 
new,  fixed  aim.  The  chords  of  Christie-mysticism  which  Augustine  had  struck  only 
with  uncertainty,  grew  into  a  rapturous  melody.  By  the  side  of  the  sacramental 
Christ  stepped — penance  formed  the  medium — the  image  of  the  historical  Christ 
sublime  in  his  humility,  innocent,  suffering  punishment,  life  in  death"  (p.  409). 
St.  Bernard  was  the  great  apostle  of  the  new  piety,  and  in  him,  more  than  in  any 
preceding  theologian  love,  is  the  essence  of  Christianity.  ' '  Like  Origen,  Bernard  also 
taught  that  it  was  necessary  to  rise  from  the  Christ  in  the  flesh  to  the  Christ  Kara 
Trvev/j,a,  that  the  historical  is  a  step.  This  trait  has  clung  to  all  mysticism  since  his 
time ;  mysticism  has  learned  from  Bernard,  whom  men  reverenced  as  a  prophet  and 
apostle,  the  Christ-contemplation ;  but  at  the  same  time  it  has  adopted  his  panthe- 
istic trend.  The  excedere  et  cum  Christo  esse  means,  that  in  the  arms  of  the  Bride- 
groom the  soul  ceases  to  be  an  individual  self.  But  where  the  soul  is  merged  in  the 
Divinity,  the  Divinity  is  dissolved  into  the  All-in-One  "  (p.  411). 

The  Bernardine  piety,  together  with  the  Roman  juristic  habit  of  thought,  ruled 
the  mediaeval  Church  and  gave  rise  to  its  startling  contrasts.  The  scholasticism  and 
mysticism  which  flourished  so  prolifically  after  Bernard's  time,  both  had  their  root 
in  piety. 

The  Mediaeval  revival  of  science  brought  about  "(i)  A  deeper  insight  into  the 
Neo-Platonic-Augustinian  principles  of  theology  as  a  whole  ;  (2)  A  higher  virtuosity 


BOOK   REVIEWS.  3<DI 

in  the  art  of  dialectic  analysis  and  rational  demonstration  ;  (3)  An  increasing  occu- 
pation with  the  Church  fathers  and  the  ancient  philosophers"  (p.  418). 

Abelard  gave  the  initiative  to  this  advance  movement.  Bernard  and  the  pietists 
could  not  understand  him,  and  opposed  him  with  all  their  power,  and  yet  his  Aris- 
totelianised  Neo-Platonism  ' '  laid  the  foundation  for  the  classical  expression  of 
medieval  conservative  theology  "  (p.  420).  The  death  of  Christ  was  an  act  of  love 
to  inflame  our  cold  hearts,  and  Christ's  merit  was  the  "  fullness  of  the  love  of  God 
dwelling  in  him." 

Anselm,  on  the  contrary,  developed  Augustinianism  still  further  in  the  direc- 
tion of  modern  Protestant  soteriology,  laying  renewed  emphasis  upon  the  guilt  of 
sin,  the  necessity  of  vicarious  atonement,  and  the  "merits"  of  Christ. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  thirteenth  century,  "  the  Bernardine  piety  of  immers- 
ing one's  self  entirely  in  the  sufferings  of  Christ,  was  developed  by  St.  Francis,  into 
a  piety  of  the  imitation  of  Christ  in  'humilitate,  caritate,  obedientia.'  "  Francis 
"  held  before  men  an  inexhaustibly  rich  and  high  ideal  of  Christianity,  capable  of 
the  most  widely  different  individual  phases,  and  breaking  its  way  through,  because 
first  in  it  did  Catholic  piety  receive  its  classical  expression  "  (p.  434). 

The  religious  awakening  brought  about  by  the  mendicant  orders  was  charac- 
terised by  a  special  consideration  given  to  the  laity,  and  a  popularisation  of  the 
most  exalted  spiritual  ideas.  It  was  dominated  by  mysticism,  which  "  is  a  conscious, 
reflecting  Catholic  piety  "  (p.  437).  It  taught  that  religion  is  life  and  love,  and 
urged  an  "entire  immersing  in  love"  (p.  439),  whose  end  was  substantial  union 
with  God,  the  "Abysmal  Substance,"  the  "Peaceful  Passivity,"  etc. 

The  Thomistic  mysticism  taught  men  to  rise  to  God  through  knowledge,  the 
Scotistic  through  the  will.  The  German  mysticism,  especially,  manifested  itself  as 
active  brotherly  love. 

Concurrently  with  the  pietistic  movement,  and  parallel  to  the  development  of 
scholasticism  and  mysticism,  there  went  on  a  continual  consolidation  and  strength- 
ening of  ecclesiastical  organisation,  and  of  the  power  of  the  Papacy,  first  developed 
within  dogmatics  by  St.  Thomas  Aquinas,  but  principally  indebted  to  jurisprudence 
rather  than  theology.  The  shocks  which  it  received  in  the  Great  Schism  of  the 
West  had,  at  the  end  of  the  fifteenth  century,  been  largely  recovered  from. 

St.  Thomas  marked  another  step  in  the  series  of  syncretic  labors  in  which  stand 
the  great  names  of  Origen,  Methodius,  Dionysius,  the  Cappadocians,  and  St.  Augus- 
tine. His  contribution  was  the  reconciliation  of  Augustine  and  Aristotle.  Scotism 
was  still  more  Aristotelian,  and  through  its  means  causality  took  the  place  of  imma- 
nence in  the  conception  of  God  and  the  world.  Under  the  Aristotelian  influence,  the 
Roman  moralism  was  reinstated  at  the  expense  of  Augustinianism,  and  still  holds 
sway,  especially  in  the  Society  of  Jesus.  In  the  sixteenth  century  there  set  in  a 
powerful  Augustinian  reaction  in  favor  of  Plato. 

Although  St.  Thomas  completed  the  separation  of  God  from  the  world,  his  con- 
ception of  Deity  still  contained  pantheistic  elements  ;  but  the  Scotists  separated 


302  THE  MONIST. 

•God  sharply  from  creatures.  The  Thomists  had  a  modalistic  tendency,  while  the 
Scotistic  school  kept  the  Persons  sharply  separated,  tending  to  polytheism,  or  sub- 
ordinationism.  The  Thomists  insisted  upon  predestination  and  necessity  ;  the  Scotists 
upon  free-will  and  arbitrariness. 

The  doctrine  of  the  sacraments  was  carried  furthest  in  the  physico-magical 
direction  by  the  opponents  of  Berengarius  and  the  Bernardine-Franciscan  mystics ; 
it  was  modified  by  their  immediate  successors,  still  further  so  by  the  Thomists,  and 
with  the  Scotists  evaporated  into  a  purely  arbitrary  association  of  the  sacramental 
rite  and  the  action  of  divine  grace. 

The  pure  Augustinian  doctrine  of  sin  and  grace  was  finally  set  aside  by  the  suc- 
cessive labors  of  Halesius,  Aquinas,  and  Scotus. 

Nominalism  represented  a  wearying  of  the  mind,  a  despair  of  rationally  prov- 
ing or  justifying  the  revealed  doctrine,  and,  resolving  everything  into  the  arbitrary 
will  of  God,  which  could  only  be  known  through  revelation,  came  to  the  conviction 
of  the  irrationality  of  the  revealed  doctrine,  and  ' '  gave  out  the  watchword  that  one 
must  blindly  submit  to  the  authority  of  the  Church"  (p.  503). 

This  favored  curialism,  whose  pretensions  were  the  real  aggravation  of  the 
Reformation  period.  Curialism  is  the  system  which  elevates  the  Roman  Curia  to 
the  chief  place  in  religion,  looks  upon  the  usages  of  the  Roman  Church  as  having  a 
divine  sanction,  teaches  that  theories  implicita  (blind  submission  to  the  authority  of 
the  Church)  will  secure  blessedness,  and  subordinates  the  dogmatic  interest  to  the 
religio-political,  so  as  to  approve  of  the  ecclesiastical  politics  which  lays  first  stress 
upon  the  maintenance  and  advancement  of  the  power  of  the  Church  rather  than  the 
exact  interpretation  of  dogmatic  symbols. 

The  anti-curialism  and  revived  Augustinianism  of  the  sixteenth  century  worked 
together  to  bring  about  the  overthrow  of  the  ecclesiastical  system  which  nominalism 
had  already  emptied  and  undermined. 

The  outcome  of  this  crisis  was  three-fold  :  (i)  Tridentine  Catholicism,  domi- 
nated by  curialism,  but  insisting  upon  a  quasi-Augustinianism  and  having  large 
Franciscan  and  humanistic  elements  ;  (2)  Socinianism,  critical  and  Pelagian,  repre- 
senting nominalism  and  humanism  ;  and  (3)  Evangelical  Protestantism,  which  in 
principle  set  aside  the  organisation  of  the  Church  and  its  infallible  doctrinal  tradi- 
tions and  canon  of  Scripture,  in  favor  of  the  Augustinian  legalistic  individualism. 

Catholicism  has  since  undergone  a  further  development  by  the  strengthening  of 
curialism,  which  has  reached  its  culmination  in  the  Vatican  Council,  and  by  the  cast- 
ing off  of  Augustinianism  in  successive  steps  represented  by  the  repudiation  of  the 
articles  of  Bajus  (1567),  the  acquittal  of  the  Jesuit  Molina  (1607),  and  the  condemna- 
tion of  the  Jansenists  (1706,  1713). 

Socinianism  was  divided  from  the  outset  into  three  groups.  The  first  was  Pla- 
tonising,  allying  itself  "  with  the  pantheistic  mysticism  and  the  new  creation  of  the 
Renaissance  "  (p.  530).  Among  its  representatives  were  Schwenkfeld,  V.  Weigel, 
Bruno,  and  especially  Sebastian  Franck  and  Theobald  Thamer. 


BOOK   REVIEWS. 


303 


The  second  was  apocalyptic,  chiliastic,  and  anabaptist,  opposing  to  political 
and  sacramental  Catholicism  "a  new  social-political  world  and  church  system"  (p. 
531).  To  this  group  the  separated  Minorites  and  Waldensians  belonged. 

In  the  third  the  humanistic  spirit  prevailed.  Michael  Servetus  was  its  typical 
representative  and  modern  Unitarianism  and  the  Aitfkldrungsphilosophie  its  progeny. 

Protestantism  almost  immediately  returned  in  practice  to  Biblicism,  sacramen- 
talism,  and  dogmatism,  exaggerating  the  first,  introducing  new  absurdities  into  the 
second,  ' '  and  making  the  dogmatico-rational  scheme  which  the  Greeks,  Augustine, 
and  the  scholastics  created,  for  the  first  time  wholly  irrational  "  (p.  561). 

"  The  very  man  who  freed  the  Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ  from  ecclesiasticism  and 
moralism  strengthened  the  force  of  the  latter  under  the  forms  of  the  old  Catholic 
theology,  yes,  he  gave  to  these  forms,  which  for  centuries  had  lain  dormant,  once 
again  a  value  and  a  meaning.  He  was  the  restorer  of  the  old  dogmas  and  he  gave 
them  back  to  faith.  One  must  credit  it  to  him  that  these  formulas  are  even  until 
to-day  a  living  power  in  the  faith  of  Protestantism,  while  in  the  Catholic  churches 
they  are  a  dead  weight.  Luther  turned  his  contemporaries  aside  from  the  path  of 
the  humanistic  Franciscan  and  political  Christianity  and  compelled  them  to  interest 
themselves  in  that  which  was  most  foreign  to  them — the  Gospel  and  the  old  theol- 
ogy "  (pp.  542-543)- 

Dr.  Harnack  saves  his  own  Protestantism  by  professing  his  adhesion  to  "  Lu- 
ther's Christianity,"  (as  distinguished  from  the  theological  traditions  maintained  or 
resuscitated  by  Luther,)  by  which  he  means  "living  faith  in  the  living  God  who 
has  revealed  Himself  in  Jesus  Christ  and  laid  bare  his  heart — nothing  else.  Objec- 
tively it  is  Jesus  Christ,  subjectively  it  is  faith  ;  its  band,  however,  is  the  gracious 
God,  and  therefore  the  forgiveness  of  sin  which  includes  sonship  and  blessedness  " 
(p.  546).  All  the  scholasticism,  dogmatism,  and  sacramentalism  which  Protestant- 
ism retains,  Dr.  Harnack  considers  a  survival  of  Catholic  elements. 

Most  thinking  men  will  not  partake  of  the  Augustinian  and  "Evangelical" 
sympathies  strongly  and  openly  expressed  by  him  in  many  places  throughout  his 
book  ;  and  it  is  more  than  questionable  whether  the  Harnack  of  the  closet  is  in  ac- 
cord with  the  Harnack  of  the  rostrum. 

Augustinian  as  distinguished  from  pre- Augustinian  Christianity,  was  a  retrogres- 
sion in  so  far  as  it  degraded  man  by  its  emphasis  of  guilt  and  the  fall ;  degraded  God 
by  its  humanisation  of  Him  ;  and  degraded  both  by  its  unconditional  predestinarian- 
ism,  and  its  substitution  of  a  legal  and  extrinsic  atonement  for  a  process  of  real  in- 
terior development. 

The  independent  scientific  theology  of  the  Alexandrian  school  represented  the 
greatest  philosophic  freedom  and  the  profoundest  speculative  insight  which  can  be 
credited  to  any  school  of  Christian  theologians  in  any  period  ;  and  it  arrived  at  a 
system  which  was  morally  and  metaphysically,  if  not  physically,  monistic,  as  op- 
posed to  the  naive  dualism  of  the  apologists,  the  speculative,  moral,  and  physical 
dualism  of  the  heretical  gnostics,  and  the  practical,  moral,  and  metaphysical  dualism 


304  THE  MONIST. 

of  the  Augustinians  ;  a  system  to  which  we  are  indebted  for  whatever  is  best  in 
Augustine  and  Aquinas,  and  which,  whatever  may  have  been  its  errors,  was  in  such 
fundamental  correspondence  with  the  facts  of  nature  and  of  man  that  its  formulae 
are  to-day  found  to  be  the  most  suitable  embodiment  of  the  religion  of  science. 

If  we  find  the  philosophic  insight  of  the  Alexandrians  too  much  alloyed  with  an 
unacceptable  mysticism,  it  is  not  to  Augustinianism,  which  dissolves  philosophy  in 
a  far  less  noble  if  less  thaumaturgic  mysticism,  that  we  should  turn,  but  rather  to 
the  sober  criticism  of  the  Antiochian  school.  But  the  nominalism  in  which  the 
latter  abuts  has  consequences  more  fantastic  than  even  the  mysteriosophy  of  Neo- 
Platonism. 

It  is  to  be  regretted  that  so  important  a  work  should  not  have  been  edited  with 
more  care.  Not  only  are  there  instances  of  untranslated  references,  mistranslations, 
and  flagrant  Teutonisms,  but  occasionally  proper  names  and  titles  of  books  which 
have  an  accepted  English  form  are  allowed  to  remain  in  one  that  is  wholly  strange 
to  the  English  reader.  Another  defect  is  the  absence  of  an  index  or  of  chronological 
notes.  As  the  arrangement  of  the  matter  is  necessarily  far  from  being  chronologi- 
cal it  is  not  easy  to  find  passages  sought  for.  But  in  spite  of  these  superficial  im- 
perfections, the  scholarly  portion  of  the  American  public  cannot  be  too  grateful  to 
Professor  Mitchell  for  placing  before  it  this  invaluable  and  almost  epoch-making 
work.  MERWIN-MARIE  SNELL. 

DARWIN  AND  HEGEL.  With  Other  Philosophical  Studies.  By  David  G.  Ritchie, 
M.  A.  London  :  Swan  Sonnenschein  &  Co.  New  York  :  Macmillan  &  Co. 
1893. 

The  reader  of  the  philosophical  periodicals  is  already  well  acquainted  with  the 
essays  of  Mr.  Ritchie  here  collected.  Nine  in  number,  they  appeared  in  Mind,  The 
Proceedings  of  the  Aristotelian  Society,  The  Philosophical  Review,  etc.  Their  titles 
are:  "  Origin  and  Validity  ";  "  Darwin  and  Hegel  ";  "  What  is  Reality  ?";  "On 
Plato's  Phaedo  "  ;  "What  are  Economic  Laws  ?  "  ;  "  Locke's  Theory  of  Property  '  ; 
"  Contributions  to  the  History  of  the  Social  Contract  Theory  "  ;  "  On  the  Concep- 
tion of  Sovereignty  ";  and  "The  Rights  of  Minorities."  Though  apparently  iso- 
lated discussions  of  philosophical  and  other  topics,  selected  at  random,  they  are  yet 
presented  under  a  common  point  of  view  and  form  a  coherent  set  of  illustrations  of 
Mr.  Ritchie's  philosophy,  which  subsequently,  perhaps,  will  be  more  fully  devel- 
oped. The  title  of  the  book  is  that  of  the  second  essay,  "  Darwin  and  Hegel  "; 
because  this  antithesis  best  emphasises  Mr.  Ritchie's  point  of  view — an  attempted 
reconciliation  of  the  idealist  principles  of  Hegel,  as  based  on  Kantian  criticism,  and 
the  evolutionary  theory  of  Darwin,  as  it  is  now  generally  expressed  in  the  so-called 
"historical  "  method  of  studying  ideas  and  institutions.  This  point  of  view  is  well 
sketched  in  the  opening  essay  "Origin  and  Validity,"  where  Mr.  Ritchie  analyses 
the  contents  of  knowledge,  places  the  true  emphasis  on  the  Kantian  doctrine  of  the 
a  priori,  defines  the  limits  of  metaphysics,  and  shows  us  the  important  difference 


BOOK  REVIEWS.  305 

which  exists  between  an  historical  and  a  philosophical  analysis  of  ideas  and  insti- 
tutions. 

This  last  distinction  is  the  key-note  of  the  book.  We  have  not  solved  the 
problem  of  a  thing  or  an  idea  when  we  have  shown  how  it  has  come  about  (i.  e., 
disclosed  its  origin,  its  material  cause,  Aristotle's  ££  oi>).  There  still  remains  the  im- 
portant task  of  critically  studying  and  testing  its  validity,  its  function,  aim,  or  pur- 
pose (-£/..of),  the  complete  state  as  it  now  exists,  which  is  the  task  of  philosophy  or 
of  metaphysics  (in  its  good  sense).  Metaphysics,  or  the  study  of  the  conditions  which 
make  knowledge,  conduct,  and  nature  possible,  cannot  be  dispensed  with.  The 
recognition  of  this  is  Kant's  immortal  merit.  Without  the  so-called  a  priori  elements 
of  cognition,  science  is  impossible  ;  and  what  is  called  a  priori  in  the  theory  of 
knowledge  has  its  formal  correspondents  in  the  "ideals"  of  logic,  ethics,  and  aes- 
thetics. In  the  theory  of  knowledge,  the  elements  which  are  not  dependent  upon 
sense-experience  for  their  validity  are  usually  termed  "categories,"  and  are  such  as 
"identity,"  "cause,"  "time,"  "space,"  and  so  forth.  These  notions  are  not  intui- 
tive, not  innate,  not  mystical  ;  they  are  not  without  a  psychological  history  ;  neither 
are  they  limited  in  number  ;  but — and  this  is  the  point  of  importance — without  them, 
knowledge,  conduct,  nature,  are  impossible,  and  this  is  -cvhat  is  meant  by  a  priori. 

Philosophies  all  now  tend  to  recognise  this  distinction  of  the  a  priori,  properly 
understood,  from  the  sensational  element.  Only  within  this  domain,  when  once 
established,  as  an  instance  from  Mr.  Ritchie's  own  realm  of  ideas  well  illustrates, 
there  is  much  room  for  differences  that  wholly  outweigh  the  agreements  of  the  indi- 
vidual philosophies  in  the  acceptance  of  the  distinction.  Take,  for  instance,  Mr. 
Ritchie's  category  of  "  self -consciousness. "  Following  Professor  Green  Mr.  Ritchie 
says,  that  to  make  knowledge  possible  there  must  be  "  a  comparing  and  distinguish- 
ing Self."  It  matters  not  that  this  Self  has  a  psychological  history;  to  render  it 
a  priori  it  is  sufficient  that  it  is  a  necessary  presiip position  of  knowledge.  But  since 
time  "  though  relatively  a  form,  may  also  be  a  content  of  knowledge,  this  self  must 
be  independent  of  time  ;  I  know  I  am  a  series  of  experiences  in  time,  therefore  in 
some  way  I  am  not  in  time — but  an  eternal  (that  is,  timeless)  self-consciousness." 
Further,  ' '  that  there  is  an  eternal  self-consciousness  we  are  logically  compelled  to 
believe,  and  that  it  is  in  some  way  present  in  our  individual  selves  ;  but  in  what  way 
is  a  matter  of  speculation."  Again,  "  and  it  is  still  quite  competent,  to  any  one  who 
accepts  the  main  result  of  the  critical  examination  of  knowledge,  to  maintain  that 
this  latter  problem  is  altogether  insoluble ;  although  it  is  a  problem  which  we  can- 
not leave  alone  because  we  are  met  by  it  at  every  step  in  our  ordinary  experience." 

Call  time,  space,  substance,  cause,  what  we  will,  all  must  agree  that  these  no- 
tions or  categories  are  abstractions  of  fundamental  features  of  existence  ;  they  ex- 
press the  connexions,  the  interdependences  of  existence.  If  a  thing  exists,  it  must 
partake  of  the  nature  of  existence.  It  must  be  in  some  way  connected  with  the  uni- 
verse or  with  reality,  so  that  it  can  affect  it ;  and  it  can  only  affect  it  through  the 
means,  connexions,  or  activities  which  we  have  formulated  as  time,  space,  cause, 


306  THE  MONIST. 

motion,  and  so  forth.  Consequently,  anything  which  is  beyond,  above,  without,  or 
independent  of,  the  criteria  of  existence,  cannot  exist  ;  as  must  certainly  be  the  case 
with  Mr.  Ritchie's  idea  of  Self,  if  it  is  independent  of  everything.  To  say  that 
"  Self"  is  a  presupposition  of  knowledge  is  no  more  true  than  to  say  that  the  world 
is  a  presupposition  of  knowledge,  and  that  (by  the  same  process  of  reasoning)  this 
also  is  independent  of  time,  etc.,  etc.,  that  is,  of  itself.  But  this  may  not  be  the 
Idealist's  view.  At  any  rate  the  psychological  analysis  of  the  soul  can  teach  us  one 
thing  :  that  the  notion  of  Self  is  a  very  complex  notion,  and  that  if  we  place  it  on 
the  same  level  with  "cause,"  "  time,"  and  so  forth,  we  shall  be  able  to  derive  from 
it  whatever  we  want.  The  idea,  as  a  "  category,"  seems  to  be  an  anthropomorphic 
expression  for  the  psychical  aspect  of  the  universe,  which  if  it  is,  could  be  stated  in 
a  much  simpler  way  than  the  followers  of  Professor  Green  state  it. 

In  Mr.  Ritchie's  hands,  however,  the  idea  of  "Self"  serves  a  good  purpose.  It 
bridges  over  the  chasm  between  elemental  feelings  (origin]  and  the  present,  devel- 
oped state  of  human  self-consciousness,  which  now  exhibits  itself  as  a  fact  whose 
•validity  must  be  analysed.  It  is  only  from  the  latter,  elevated  point  of  view  that 
knowledge  is  possible,  and  that  the  universe  can  be  judged  ;  that  is,  from  the  point 
of  view  of  the  thing  as  it  is  or  can  be,  not  as  it  was.  Thus,  also,  are  we  led  to  ethics 
and  its  related  sciences.  For  this  eternal,  independent  Self,  as  it  is  never  completely 
realised  in  any  one  of  us,  always  remains  the  ideal  which  perpetually  urges  us  on- 
ward. 

These  distinctions  of  the  formal  and  historical  character  of  ideas  and  institu- 
tions are  well  worked  out  in  the  succeeding  essays,  as  practically  applied  to  the  no- 
tions of  the  state  and  society.  In  conformity  with  the  fundamental  distinction  of 
his  work,  Mr.  Ritchie  calls  his  philosophy  "idealist  evolutionism." 

The  essays  are  written  in  excellent  style,  and  though  they  are  more  like  chats 
on  philosophical  subjects,  which  make  us  cherish  the  hope  of  a  subsequent,  more 
systematic  treatment,  they  yet  constitute  a  real  and  interesting  elucidation  of  the 
theory  of  idealistic  monism.  Mr.  Ritchie  need  have  no  fear  about  the  "  infliction  " 
•of  his  "big  treatise  "  on  the  public. 


DIE  TROJABURGEN  NORDEUROPA'S.  Ihr  Zusammenhang  mit  der  indogermanischen 
Trojasage  von  der  entfiihrten  und  gefangenen  Sonnenfrau  (Syrith,  Brunhild, 
Ariadne,  Helena),  den  Trojaspielen,  Schwert-  und  Labyrinthtanzen.  Zur 
Feier  ihrer  Lenzbefreiung.  Nebst  einem  Vorwort  iiber  den  deutschen  Ge- 
lehrtendiinkel.  By  Dr.  Ernst  Kraitse  (Cams  Sterne}.  Glogau  :  Carl  Flem- 
ming.  1893.  Pp.  300. 

In  The  Monistior  July,  1891,  a  review  appeared  of  the  predecessor  of  this  work, 
•which  was  entitled  Tuiskoland.  In  this  book  Dr.  Krause  sought  to  prove  that  the 
legend  of  Troy  originated  in  an  old  Indo-Germanic  race-saga,  which  was  best 
and  most  faithfully  preserved  in  its  northern  forms,  and  not  in  its  perverted  but 
more  famous  classical  versions.  The  theories  of  the  author  met  with  much  opposi- 


BOOK  REVIEWS.  307 

tion  in  linguistic  and  classical  circles,  and  Dr.  Krause  felt  it  incumbent  on  him  to 
present  a  supplementary  defence,  or  rather  corroboration,  of  his  position.  The  re- 
sult is  the  present  series  of  researches  on  a  class  of  prehistorical  names  and  myths 
hitherto  much  neglected — the  Troy-towns  and  labyrinths,  Troy-games,  and  sword 
and  labyrinth  dances  (e.  g.  Morris  dances)  of  the  Indo-Germanic  races. 

Dr.  Krause  writes  eminently  readable  books  ;  his  style  is  always  pleasant  and 
his  conclusions  carefully  put.  He  unites  with  industry  great  ingeniousness,  and 
possessing  an  extraordinary  command  of  the  literature  and  history  of  his  subjects, 
is  wonderfully  successful  in  the  accumulating  and  digesting  of  pertinent  material. 
We  could  only  wish  that  in  the  great  mass  of  matter  which  he  thus  marshals  there 
were  more  methodical  arrangement,  that  the  reader  might  see  at  once  the  point  at 
which  he  aims,  and  enjoy  the  full  advantage  of  the  wealth  of  argument  which  he 
adduces.  The  book  is,  according  to  the  tradition  of  German  book-making,  not  in- 
dexed ;  in  the  contents  only  the  titles  of  the  chapters  are  mentioned,  and  the  sole 
clue  to  the  subjects  discussed  is  the  analytical  headings  at  the  tops  of  the  pages. 
But  these  defects  are  in  some  measure  compensated  for  by  a  rare  picturesqueness 
and  gracefulness  of  diction,  the  charm  of  which  no  one  can  escape,  and  which  will 
sustain  all  in  their  progress  through  this  wonderful  labyrinth  of  facts.  It  remains  to 
be  said  that  there  is  much  delightful  polemic  in  this  book,  which  will  be  manna  to 
scholars  who,  like  Dr.  Krause,  have  felt  the  stings  of  academic  contumely. 

But  now  to  the  work.  And,  first,  to  the  facts  which  have  suggested  Dr.  Krause's 
explanation. 

*  * 

It  frequently  happens  in  history  that  one  eminent  name  gathers  to  itself  all  the 
great  and  characteristic  features  of  its  age.  And  this  is  true  not  only  of  persons, 
but  also  of  places.  Venetians  are  found  in  many  parts  of  the  ancient  world,  but 
Venice  alone  is  the  historical  heir  of  the  name.  The  same  is  true  of  Rome  ;  but 
more  especially  is  it  true  of  Troy.  Nearly  all  the  European  nations  claim  to  be 
descendants  of  the  Trojans  ;  as  the  name  of  a  place  it  is  universal  in  Europe,  and 
innumerable  are  the  legends  connected  with  it. 

But  in  addition  to  the  prevalency  of  the  name  as  the  designation  of  a  city  an- 
other fact  is  remarkable.  "  Troy-town,"  (Scandinavian,  Trojian,  Trojeborg,  Tro- 
jenborg,  Troborg;  Welsh,  Caer  Droidd]  is  a  term  employed  since  time  immemorial 
in  northern  Europe  to  designate  certain  curious  labyrinths  of  paths,  formed  by  cir- 
cular rows  of  stones,  or  labyrinths  of  circular  furrows  cut  in  grassy  places.  These 
Troytowns  are  found,  designated  by  this  name,  in  England,  Denmark,  Sweden, 
Norway,  and  Finland,  the  most  famous  being  the  stone  Troytown  at  Wisby  in  Goth- 
land, which  is  about  eighteen  metres  in  diameter.  They  are  found  in  great  numbers 
in  the  coast-lands  of  Russia,  where,  for  reasons  which  will  hereafter  appear,  they 
are  called  Babylons.  Symbols  of  them,  in  the  shape  of  concentric  circles,  are 
sculptured  on  the  sand-stone  rocks  of  parts  of  England,  and  are  referred  to  in  the 
Druid  Songs.  And  on  the  coins  of  Knossos,  of  Crete,  and  of  other  Mediterranean 


308  THE  MONIST. 

nations,  labyrinthine  mazes,  strongly  resembling  the  Troytown  of  Wisby,  are  en- 
graved. Quite  independently,  also,  similar  tracings  are  found  in  the  books  and 
manuscripts  of  the  mediaeval  Northern  Christian  nations  ;  while  the  outlines  of  these 
Troytown  labyrinths  form  the  patterns  of  the  mosaic  floors  of  many  mediaeval  ca- 
thedrals. 

With  all  these  labyrinthine  structures,  plans,  and  tracings,  or  Troytowns,  cer- 
tain ceremonial  or  festal  practices,  especially  dances,  performed  or  celebrated  in 
the  spring,  are  connected  ;  and  with  these  ceremonies  are  associated  certain  legends 
and  myths,  which  have  a  common  basis. 

Let  us  first  consider  the  etymology  of  the  word  "Troy."  According  to  Dr. 
Krause  the  term  is  unquestionably  of  Germanic  origin.  In  Swedish,  Troy,  or  Traeg- 
gia,  denotes  a  stronghold  ;  trygger,  secure  and  proof  against  attack  ;  Trojin  and 
Trojenborg,  a  strongly  fortified  citadel ;  Troija  and  harnisk  troja,  an  iron  breast- 
plate ;  and  troja  a  kind  of  jerkin.  Also  in  Old  German  and  Danish  this  second 
meaning  is  common  :  here  various  forms  of  true  and  Troy  denote  doublets.  And, 
finally,  in  Old  German  forms  a  third  meaning,  that  of  dancing,  is  found.  These  three 
meanings  are  all  probably  derived  from  a  common  root  denoting  to  circumvallate,  to 
enclose,  to  circle  about — the  root  tro,  troi,  tru  ;  a  conclusion  which  is  suggested  by 
the  shape  and  use  of  the  Troytowns.  But  they  may  also  all  be  derived  from  some 
old  word,  still  preserved  in  the  Sanskrit  dhruwa,  denoting  what  is  secure,  reliable, 
and  durable.  In  collateral  meanings,  they  approach  the  sense  of  "  to  exorcise, " 
"to  bewitch." 

The  sagas  which  are  connected  with  these  labyrinths  and  their  associate  cus- 
toms, all  refer,  in  some  way,  to  the  liberation  of  a  maiden  of  divine  birth  from  the 
Troytown  or  labyrinth.  The  maiden  is  the  sun-goddess  ;  the  labyrinth  is  the  win- 
ter ;  the  liberation,  the  reappearance  of  the  sun  in  the  springtime  after  its  long 
captivity.  This,  it  will  be  seen,  is  a  distinctively  Northern  idea. 

The  best  known  of  the  Northern  legends  embodying  this  fact  is  the  story  of  the 
Smithking  of  the  older,  or  prose,  Edda.  The  Smithking  goes  to  the  Ases  and  prom- 
ises to  build  for  them  a  strong  castle  in  which  they  will  be  protected  against  all  at- 
tacks if  they  will  give  him  as  his  reward  the  goddess  Freyja,  with  the  sun  and  moon. 
The  Ases  accept  the  offer,  but  make  the  condition  that  the  Smith  shall  build  the 
castle  in  a  single  winter,  while  if  he  fail  but  by  one  day  he  shall  be  deprived  of  his 
reward.  By  a  deceitful  strategy,  on  the  last  winter  day,  the  Ases  render  it  impos- 
sible for  the  Smith  to  complete  his  work.  The  Smith  falls  into  a  tremendous  rage, 
is  recognised  by  this  exhibition  of  anger  as  one  of  the  giants  of  the  mountain,  and 
is  slain  forthwith  by  his  hereditary  enemy,  the  god  Thor,  who,  it  happens,  has  been 
long  away,  but  is  sent  for  by  the  Ases. 

In  the  corresponding  legends  of  India  it  is  also  a  builder  or  smith  who  keeps 
imprisoned  the  maiden  ;  he,  too,  is  the  constructor  of  the  stronghold,  palace,  or 
labyrinthine  trap  in  which  the  sun-goddess  is  kept.  Thus,  in  the  Indian  tale  Rama- 
yana,  Varuna,  or  rather  Tvaschtar  (who  is  none  other  than  Varuna  himself)  builds 


BOOK  REVIEWS.  309 

a  large,  strongly  fortified  palace  with  hundreds  of  rooms,  for  the  imprisonment  of  the 
sun-goddess  Surya. 

In  Southern  Europe  Daedalus  builds  the  Cretan  labyrinth  ;  Hephaestus  that  on 
the  island  Lemnos  ;  and  Valand  or  Voldr  that  in  the  North.  With  the  Icelandic 
saga  of  Wieland,  or  Valand,  the  labyrinths,  which  were  there  called  Wieland's 
houses,  are  distinctly  associated.  In  this  saga,  to  win  a  princess's  hand,  a  wild  ani- 
mal is  caught  in  a  trap  (the  labyrinth)  by  Egeas.  But  Egeas  is  identical  both  with 
Wieland,  or  Valand,  and  with  the  Greek  Aegeus,  (father  of  Theseus,  the  rescuer  of 
Ariadne  from  the  Cretan  labyrinth,)  who  was  also  called  Phalantos  (=Valand). 

If  we  observe  the  sun,  as  after  the  longest  day  in  the  year  it  begins  daily  to  de- 
scribe a  deeper  arc  in  the  heavens,  its  path  will  appear  to  us  as  a  labyrinthine  line  that 
ever  leads  it  nearer  to  the  prison  in  which  in  the  far  North  it  is  hidden  for  several 
months.  The  giant  Evening  Red,  or  Tjugari,  now  holds  her*  in  his  nets  ;  and  in 
the  spring  she  is  again  let  out  of  the  labyrinth  by  the  same  winding  paths.  But  as 
the  moon  and  the  other  stars  describe  similar  paths,  the  idea  easily  suggests  itself 
that  the  entire  world-structure  is  such  a  labyrinth  built  by  a  crafty  smith  or  master 
builder,  who  can  trap  at  will  the  sun  in  his  mazes,  and  may  possess  her  when  he 
will,  leaving  the  world  in  wintry  sleep.  Plainly  such  a  conception  could  only  have 
had  its  origin  in  the  North. 

From  the  names  which  the  Smithking,  or  builder,  has,  in  the  different  forms  of 
the  Northern  saga  (for  example,  Vind  and  Vedr),  it  is  conclusive  that  the  builder  or 
smith  is  a  personification  of  winter,  and  that  we  are  confronted  in  these  tales  with  a 
myth  of  the  seasons.  Thbr  is  the  god  of  summer.  He  slays  the  winter-giant,  or 
smith,  and  wrests  from  him  his  prize,  Freyja  ;  and  the  rescue  is  celebrated  in  all 
Northern  Europe,  as  it  was  in  the  South,  by  games  and  practices  in  which  this  idea 
was,  more  or  less,  the  central  motive.  The  smith-story,  in  fact,  is  actually  identical 
with  the  old  Roman  festival  of  Mamurius  Veturius — "the  old  smith" — although 
the  basis  of  the  practice  was  here  forgotten.  The  Grecian  story  of  the  building  of 
the  walls  of  Troy  by  Poseidon  and  the  cheating  of  the  latter  of  his  promised  reward, 
Hesione,  the  daughter  of  the  king,  is  also  a  blundering  reproduction  of  the  old  Aryan 
northern  saga. 

In  the  legend  of  Siegfried  and  Brunhilde,  and  in  its  offshoot,  Dornroschen,  we 
also  have  a  season  myth.  But  this  myth  is  not  so  distinct  as  the  legend  of  Iduna 
and  Thiassi,  in  which  we  have  a  complete  parallel  of  the  Freyja  saga.  Saxo  Gram- 
maticus  tells  a  Danish  story  of  a  virtuous  and  wonderfully  beautiful  princess  Syrith, 
whose  father  had  promised  her  to  whomsoever  she  should  condescend  to  bestow  a 
glance  upon.  She  was  abducted  by  a  giant  who  took  her  to  the  mountains,  where 
afterwards  Othar  rescued  her,  on  whom  she  "condescended  to  look."  Here  Othar 
is  Odhr,  and  Syrith  is  Freyja  or  Syr.  From  the  variant  forms  of  this  myth  which 


*  The  old  Aryans,  unlike  the  classical  nations,  did  not  conceive  the  sun  as  a  male  deity  and 
the  moon  as  a  female  one,  but  vice  versa. 


310  THE  MONIST. 

at  times  approach  the  Dornroschen  and  Brunhilde  legends,  it  appears  that  we  must 
replace  the  old  interpretation  of  these  legends,  in  which  the  sun-god  kisses  and 
awakens  Nature,  by  a  new  one,  in  which  the  summer-god  kisses  or  liberates  the  sun. 
Thus  Dornroschen  is  the  sun  not  Nature,  and  Thor  the  summer-god,  not  sun-god, 
who  liberates  her  in  the  spring  from  the  power  of  the  winter-giant  or  winter-builder. 
Etymologically,  also,  Syr,  or  Syrith,  is  connected  with  the  Indo-Germanic  names 
for  the  sun. 

Continuing,  Dr.  Krause  shows  that  many  of  these  myths  are  found  in  even  a 
simpler  form  than  the  Teutonic  in  the  Slavic  and  Lithuanian  races,  these  being 
much  nearer  the  simpler  stage  of  national  childhood  than  their  more  civilised  broth- 
ers. This  is  essentially  the  case  with  the  legend  of  the  maiden  that  is  stolen  and 
put  in  a  tower  by  a  grim  old  man,  and  afterwards  freed  by  a  youth  with  a  magic 
horse  that  flies  unhindered  over  mountains  and  seas.  In  most  of  these  cases  the 
youth  slays  the  dragon,  and  is  carried  by  his  horse  over  nine  winding  walls.  These 
winding  walls  are  significant.  They  are  connected  with  the  nine  winding  walls  of 
the  legendary  tales  of  Babylon  (whence  the  Russian  name),  and  with  the  spiral  fur- 
rows of  the  worm-hill  of  the  English  story  of  the  Worm  of  Lambton,  which  were 
supposed  to  have  been  made  by  the  coils  of  the  dragon,  as  he  lay  about  his  charge. 
In  all  these  stories  of  the  abduction  and  liberation  of  the  sun-maiden  there  is  either 
a  stronghold  or  a  dragon,  and,  as  we  see,  in  both  there  is  the  idea  of  the  labyrinth 
or  trap, 

Coming  to  the  classical  South,  we  also  have,  in  the  Medea  and  Ariadne  legends, 
princesses  with  heroes  who  slay  dragons  and  monsters.  In  both  cases  we  also  un- 
doubtedly have  a  season  myth,  though  in  less  primitive  a  form.  Always,  the  sun- 
goddesses  are  left  by  the  sun-heroes.  Jason  forsakes  Medea,  Theseus  forsakes  Ari- 
adne, as  Siegfried  did  Brunhilde,  and  Othar,  Syrith.  The  reason  of  this  is  evident. 
The  sun  must  belong  alternately  to  the  summer  and  the  winter.  Each  conqueror 
can  keep  the  goddess  but  for  a  while.  Each  in  turn  must  surrender  her  to  another  : 
Jason  to  Eageas,  Theseus  to  Dionysos,  and  Siegfried  to  King  Gunther.  This  is 
also  the  significance  of  the  myth  of  Perseus  and  Andromeda. 


*  * 


The  deliverance  of  the  sun-goddess  from  the  power  of  the  winter -god  was  cele- 
brated among  all  Indo-Germanic  nations  by  dances  and  games,  such  as  the  Easter 
games.  Now,  all  these  games  partake  of  a  martial  character  ;  they  are  indicative 
of  struggle.  And  the  scenes  of  these  games  are  the  worm-hills,  the  Troy-towns,  the 
labyrinths,  the  miniature,  many-walled  strongholds. 

Tacitus  speaks  of  the  weapon-dances  of  the  Germanic  nations.  In  fact,  there 
are  many  records  of  the  sword-dances  of  the  old  Germans,  survivals  of  which  exist 
to-day.  All  symbolise  the  expulsion  of  winter  by  force,  and  the  greeting  of  spring. 
In  the  English  morris-dances  Robin  Hood  rescues  Maid  Marian  from  the  power  of 
the  demon  of  winter.  In  some  of  the  English  May-games,  even  the  dragon  and 
his  conqueror  appear  (Snap-dragon). 


BOOK  REVIEWS.  3!  I 

But  most  interesting  is  the  history  of  the  Troy-games  and  Salian  dances  of  an- 
cient Rome.  Virgil,  under  the  influence  of  the  Caesars,  makes  ^Eneas,  the  mythi- 
cal forefather  of  the  imperial  rulers,  the  founder  of  the  Troy  games.  ^Eneas  is 
said  to  have  founded  a  temple  to  his  mother,  Venus,  in  Latium,  where  the  Castra 
Trojana  were  located,  and  to  have  dedicated  these  games  to  her.  Venus  here  bore 
the  name  of  Frutis,  which,  with  Olaf  Rudbeck,  Dr.  Krause  connects  with  Fru  Disa 
or  Freyja.  This  Troy  game,  ludus  vel  litdicrum  trojic,  which  the  Julian  tribe  sup- 
ported in  remembrance  of  their  noble  origin,  was  found  to  be  an  exact  counterpart, 
almost,  of  an  ancient  religious  dance,  labyrinthine  in  character,  of  the  original  in- 
habitants of  the  land,  which  had  degenerated  into  a  child's  game,  but  bore  the  same 
name  as  the  other.  Subsequently,  research  revealed  that  the  Troy  games  were 
only  artificially  connected  with  the  story  of  the  Homeric  Troy  ;  that  the  name  and 
game  were  Old-Italian  and  could  be  traced  back  to  the  weapon-dances  of  the  Salian 
priests  held  as  a  greeting  of  spring.  This  dance  was  a  labyrinthine  dance.  But 
more  remarkable  still  is  the  fact  that  the  Salii  were  smith-priests,  or  priests  of  a 
smith  or  builder  religion,  which  only  afterwards  became  the  cult  of  Zeus  and  Apollo. 
Moreover,  in  the  Latin  words  expressive  of  the  movements  of  the  dance,  namely,  in 
antroare  and  redantruare,  the  root  tro  is  found,  which  is  also  the  root  of  the  north- 
ern words,  and  signifies  to  turn,  or  turn  about.  The  conclusion  is  thus  plain,  that 
this  Troy  dance,  or  dance  Troa,  was  a  labyrinthine  dance,  danced,  since  time  im- 
memorial, by  all  nations  from  the  shores  of  the  northern  oceans  to  those  of  the 
Mediterranean  Ssa,  in  celebration  of  the  deliverance  of  the  sun-goddess  from  the 
abyrinth  of  the  winter-god. 

The  whole  myth  has  its  plainest  form,  not  in  Troy,  but  in  Crete,  whose  inhabi- 
tants unquestionably  migrated  from  the  North.  The  labyrinthine  dance  of  Crete 
was  admittedly  in  honor  of  the  sun.  Ariadne,  the  imprisoned  maiden  of  the  Cretan 
labyrinth,  is  the  shining  goddess.  Of  the  origin  of  the  Cretan  dance  which  was 
called  Geranos,  or  the  dance  of  the  storks,  there  are  many  variations.  .According  to 
Plutarch,  the  dance  originated  with  Theseus  and  is  connected  with  the  cult  of  Ve- 
nus, as  was  the  Troy  dance  of  the  Romans.  Theseus  is  said  to  have  forsaken 
Ariadne  on  Naxos,  which  agrees  with  the  separations  of  Othar  and  Syrith,  Siegfried 
and  Brunhilde,  Jason  and  Medea.  According  to  other  stories,  Athene  appears  as  a 
mediatrix  and  persuades  Theseus  to  give  up  Ariadne  again  to  Dionysos.  Here 
again  is  the  conflict  of  summer  and  winter  for  the  goddess  of  the  sun.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  Athene  was  herself  originally  Ariadne,  the  sun-maiden  to  be  liberated,  and 
she  appears  on  all  statues  as  the  protectress  of  Theseus  whilst  he  slays  the  Mino- 
taur, who  is  none  other  than  Dionysos.  According  to  old  versions,  also,  Athene  is 
said  to  have  first  instituted  the  weapon-dances.  She  was  also  the  goddess  of  horses 
(A.  Hippia)  and  well  corresponds  with  Frutis  or  Venus  Equestrius,  to  whom  ^Eneas 
or  Ascanias  is  said  to  have  dedicated  the  Troy  game.  But  Ariadne  stepped  into 
her  place,  and  the  labyrinthine  dance  was  accredited  to  her. 

Again,  according  to  the  still  older  version  of  Homer,  this  dance,  as  it  was  por- 


312  THE  MONIST. 

trayed  on  Achilles's  shield,  was  invented  by  Dadaelus,  the  constructor  of  the  laby- 
rinth. Besides,  this  version  is  in  fuller  accord  with  the  Germanic  and  Icelandic 
saga,  according  to  which  the  labyrinths  are  called  Wieland's  houses.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  the  agreement  in  point  ot  detail  of  the  German  Wieland  and  Wittich  sagas 
with  the  Grecian  Dadaelus  and  Theseus  legends  is  startling. 

But  it  is  the  belief  of  historians  that  the  labyrinth,  as  such,  never  existed,  but 
was  originally  a  labyrinthine  dancing-plat,  where  dances  were  performed  in  cele- 
bration of  the  events  on  which  the  myth  was  founded,  the  myth  afterwards  assum- 
ing its  historical  form.  Evidence  of  this  is  the  fact  that  the  coins  of  Knossos  in 
Crete  bear  the  impression  of  a  Troytown  that  is  almost  an  exact  reproduction  of 
the  Scandinavian  Troytowns,  which  were  notably  dancing-plats.  Again,  the  legends 
of  the  island  Delos,  on  which  Theseus  is  first  said  to  have  performed  the  Geranos- 
dance,  are  associated  with  legends  that  almost  exactly  correspond  with  the  legends 
of  Gothland.  But  the  features  of  the  Delos  legends  have  a  foreign  and  strange 
coloring,  while  the  sagas  of  Gothland  are  natural  and  consistent.  In  Gothland 
there  still  exist  four  stone  labyrinths  called  Troytowns,  in  which  labyrinthine 
dances  were  very  probably  performed  in  honor  of  the  springtime  return  of  the  sum- 
mer-god of  thunder,  and  of  the  liberation  of  the  sun-goddess.  Whether  such  stone 
labyrinths  existed  in  Delos  is  not  known,  although  it  is  possible  that  the  tropai  //<•- 
lioio  of  Homer  were  such. 

Subsequently,  as  with  other  religious  ceremonies,  not  excepting  even  the  Chris- 
tian sacraments,  these  dances  were  transformed  into  species  of  magic  conjurations 
for  the  control  of  the  weather,  a  fact  which  explains  the  appearance  of  the  laby- 
rinthine Troytowns  on  island  coasts  which  were  uninhabited  ;  the  theory  being  that 
they  were  erected  here  by  becalmed  sailors,  for  conjuration  of  the  weather. 

* 

•x-  * 

The  classical  legend  of  Troy  has  two  forms.  The  oldest  is  that  of  the  pledging 
of  Hesione  to  the  builder  of  the  stronghold  and  her  deliverance  from  the  power  of 
a  monster  by  Heracles.  This  agrees  with  the  Edda  myth  of  the  pledging  and  de- 
liverance of  Freyja  from  the  Smithking.  But  even  in  its  late  Homeric  form,  of  the 
captivity  of  Helen  in  Troy,  the  same  features  are  discernible  ;  Helen's  very  name 
betraying  her  as  the  sun-goddess,  from  Helios,  the  sun.  In  the  Iliad  form,  the 
true  features  of  the  Northern  legend  are  lost ;  even  the  Bulgarian  St.  George's  myth 
has  better  preserved  the  ancient  features.  It  is  also  assumable  that  the  very  name 
of  Troy  in  Homer  is  derived  from  the  ancient  Aryan  saga  ;  for  Troy,  as  such,  prob- 
ably never  existed  ;  the  town  which  is  now  believed  to  be  its  site  having  probably 
been  afterwards  connected  with  the  myth.  In  its  first  permanent  form  among  the 
lonians  and  Greeks  there  were  three  accounts  of  the  maiden  liberated  from  the 
Troytown  (Athene,  Hesione,  and  Helen);  but  there  is  nothing  here  of  a  castle,  or  a 
labyrinth,  or  of  a  ceremonial  labyrinthine  dance.  The  Romans,  on  the  other  hand, 
did  have  a  labyrinthine  Trojan  dance ;  but  here  the  liberation  of  the  maiden  was 
forgotten,  and  the  stone  labyrinth  does  not  appear.  In  the  Cretan  labyrinthine 


BOOK  REVIEWS.  313 

dance  the  ideas  of  the  liberation  of  the  maiden  and  of  the  stone  labyrinth  are 
united,  although  the  name  Troy  is  wanting.  The  same  disconnectedness  is  found 
in  the  Hindu  and  Persian  versions.  Only  in  the  North  is  the  key  of  this  broken 
web  of  fiction  to  be  found.  For,  fragmentary  as  the  Northern  traditions  are,  their 
connexion  is  plain,  and  their  explanation  evident.  All  point,  indubitably,  to  a  single 
basic  spring-myth,  which  we  now  all  know,  and  which  has  meaning  only  as  applied 
to  Northern  conditions.*  THOMAS  J.  McCoRMACK. 

THE  ETHICS  OF  HEGEL.  Translated  Selections  from  His  "  Rechtsphilosophie." 
With  an  Introduction  by  /.  Macbride  Sterrett,  D.  D.  Boston  :  Ginn  &  Co. 
1893.  Pp.,  216.  Price,  $1.00. 

The  Ethical  Series  of  the  Messrs.  Ginn  &  Company  of  Boston,  (Prof.  E.  Her- 
shey  Sneath,  editor,)  is  projected  as  an  improved  means  of  undergraduate  instruc- 
tion and  study  in  ethics,  the  idea  of  which  is  to  substitute  for  lectures  and  books 
about  ethical  systems,  those  systems  themselves,  or,  at  least,  representative  parts  of 
them,  in  the  original  words  of  the  authors.  The  first  volume  of  this  series,  "The 
Ethics  of  Hume,"  (reviewed  in  The  Open  Court  of  April  last,  No.  295,)  was  edited 
by  Dr.  J.  H.  Hyslop.  The  present,  the  second,  volume,  on  Hegel,  is  edited  by  Dr. 
J.  M.  Sterrett,  well  known  in  this  department  of  philosophical  literature  as  the  author 
of  "Studies  in  Hegel's  Philosophy  of  Religion."  The  great  Hegelian  erudition, 
displayed  in  that  work,  must  have  stood  Dr.  Sterrett  in  good  stead  in  the  preparation 
of  the  present  volume,  for  the  latter  task,  necessitating,  as  it  did,  the  translation 
into  English  of  a  number  of  pages  of  one  of  the  most  profound  and  technical  of  the 
German  philosophers,  was  undoubtedly  a  very  difficult  one.  Consequently,  there 
is  much  necessary  "  introduction"  and  "  exposition"  in  the  book.  There  is  a  bibli- 
ography of  the  ethical  works  of  Hegel  and  of  treatises  in  the  spirit  of  Hegel  ;  a 
biographical  sketch  and  exposition  of  his  philosophy  ;  a  few  pages  on  Hegel's  Ger- 
man terminology  ;  and  an  abstract  of  Hegel's  Introduction.  The  selections  trans- 
lated are  chiefly  from  the  Rechtsphilosophie,  although  there  are  some  supplementary 
extracts  from  the  Phcinomenologie  des  Geistes,  the  Philosophie  des  Geistes^  and  the 
Philosophy  of  History.  It  only  remains  to  be  added  that  Dr.  Sterrett's  translation 
of  the  passages  selected  is  very  literal  ;  in  fact,  as  he  himself  expresses  it,  '  '  too 
literal  for  intelligibility,  unless  accompanied  with  careful  study."  The  idea  of  this 
series  is  very  good. 


ENTARTUNG.     Vol.  II.     By  Max  Nordan.     Berlin  :   C.  Duncker. 

The  first  volume  of  this  interesting  work  was  discussed  in  our  Monist  corre- 
spondence for  July,  1893.     Simultaneously  with  the  appearance  of  the  second  edi- 

*  Just  recently  Dr.  Krause  has  published,  in  the  form  of  a  supplement  to  this  work,  a  pam- 
phlet of  forty-eight  pages,  entitled  Die  nordische  Herkunft  der  Trojasage,  bezeugt  durch  den  Krtip 
•von  Tragliatella,  (Same  publisher.)  This  pamphlet  possesses  the  advantage  of  being  a  short 
resume  of  the  larger  work  and  may  be  profitably  read  by  readers  who  have  not  the  requisite  time 
to  spare  for  a  perusal  of  the  Trojaburgen  itself. 


314  THE  MONIST. 

tion  of  the  first  volume  and  with  various  translations  of  it  into  foreign  languages 
the  second  volume  appears.  By  far  the  largest  part  of  this  volume  is  concerned 
with  the  pathology  of  egotism,  or  Ichsucht,  the  nature  of  which  is  psychologically 
analysed  and  copiously  illustrated  by  examples  from  modern  literature.  The  author's 
point  of  view  which  is  found  in  the  main  chapter  of  the  work,  "  The  Psychology  of 
Egotism,"  is  somewhat  as  follows  : 

Consciousness  is  a  fundamental  property  of  living  matter.  The  highest  organ- 
isms are  colonies  only  of  very  simple  organisms  (cells),  which,  by  complex  differen- 
tiations, bring  it  about  that  the  colony  as  a  whole  can  perform  higher  functions  than 
the  cells  individually  can.  The  compound  or  ego-consciousness  of  the  colony  is 
made  up  of  the  individual  consciousnesses  of  the  parts.  The  ego-consciousness  is 
composed  of  an  obscure,  neglected  portion  which  superintends  the  vital  activities  of 
the  cells,  the  coanaesthesia,  and  a  luminous,  preferred  portion  which  observes  and 
watches  the  work  of  the  sensor  nerves  and  the  voluntary  muscular  life.  This  lumi- 
nous consciousness  makes  the  discovery  that  acts  of  will  precede  voluntary  motions: 
it  arrives  at  the  assumption  of  causality.  It  remarks  that  the  incitations.  of  the 
senses  do  not  have  a  cause  inherent  in  itself.  It  is  constrained,  therefore,  to  dis- 
place the  cause  whose  assumption  it  cannot  dispense  with,  to  some  other  place,  and  is 
thus  necessarily  first  led  to  the  conception  of  the  non-ego  and  then  to  the  development 
of  this  non-ego  into  the  general  phenomenon  of  the  world.  In  men  of  normal  ner- 
vous constitutions,  in  this  development,  the  ego  falls  back  of  the  non-ego,  and  pic- 
tures of  the  outer  world  occupy  the  greatest  part  of  consciousness.  In  degenerate 
or  abnormal  persons,  on  the  contrary,  the  sensor  nerves  are  imperfect  conductors 
and  the  centres  of  perception  in  the  brain  are  heavy  and  obtuse ;  these,  with  weak- 
ness of  will  and  the  incapacity  thus  conditioned  of  attention,  added  to  nervous,  ir- 
regular, and  violent  physiological  processes  in  the  cells,  are  the  organic  foundations 
on  which  Ichsucht  or  egotism  rises. 

As  the  result  of  organic  defects,  the  egotist  does  not  know,  does  not  compre- 
hend, the  world-phenomenon.  The  consequence  is,  lack  of  interest  and  sympathy 
and  an  incapacity  to  adapt  himself  to  nature  and  humanity.  Lack  of  feeling  and 
incapacity  of  adaptation,  frequently  accompanied  by  aberrations  of  the  natural  in- 
stincts and  by  fixed  ideas,  make  the  egotist  a  foe  of  society.  He  is  a  moral  lunatic, 
a  criminal,  a  pessimist,  an  anarchist,  a  hater  of  humanity,  either  in  his  thought  and 
emotions,  or  in  his  deeds.  The  battle  against  the  misanthropic  egotist,  his  elimina- 
tion from  the  body  of  society,  is  a  necessary  function  of  the  social  organisation,  and 
if  society  is  incapable  of  accomplishing  its  duty  in  this  respect,  it  is  a  sign  of  de- 
creasing vital  power  or  of  a  diseased  condition.  Toleration,  or  what  is  worse,  ad- 
miration, of  the  theorising  or  acting  egotist,  indicates  that  the  kidneys  of  the  social 
organism  are  not  performing  their  functions,  that  society  itself  is  afflicted  with  a 
kind  of  social  Bright's  disease.  (Pp.  1-42.) 

Nordau  is  most  successful  in  his  psychiatrical  analysis  of  the  French  Parnas- 
sians and  Diabolists  (pp,  43-86),  the  Decadents  and  ^Estheticists  (pp.  87-152)  ;  less 


BOOK  REVIEWS.  315 

successful  is  he  in  his  treatment  of  the  poet  and  the  philosopher  of  egotism,  Ibsen 
and  Frederick  Nietzsche  (pp.  153-357),  although  even  here  his  criticisms  are  worthy 
of  attention.  Owing  to  the  extent  of  his  discussions,  it  is  impossible  to  give  in  a  brief 
space  anything  like  an  exact  idea  of  the  results  of  Nordau's  analysis.  But  a  few 
words  with  regard  to  Ibsen  will  indicate  his  chief  conclusions. 

According  to  Nordau,  Ibsen  is  not  a  full-fledged  specimen  of  psychosis,  but 
only  an  inhabitant  of  the  border-lands,  a  mattoid,  who  as  a  poet  possesses  no  other 
genius  than  the  technical  virtuosity  of  fitting  his  productions  to  the  stage.  In  addi- 
tion to  the  stigmata  of  egotism  are  also  to  be  found  in  this  man,  marks  of  a  patho- 
logical mysticism  ;  but  upon  the  whole  he  must  be  classed  among  the  egotists  and 
not  among  the  mysticists. 

In  the  first  place,  owing  to  his  defective  nervous  constitution,  Ibsen  has  only 
very  imperfectly  comprehended  the  external  world,  and  deserves,  therefore,  by  no 
means  the  title  of  realist.  Nor  can  anything  like  a  scientific  foundation  for  his 
dramas  be  admitted,  although  superficial  critics  have  asserted  such.  Furthermore, 
the  material  which  he  derives  from  the  outer  order  of  things  is  not  properly  digested  ; 
he  is  wanting  in  clearness  concerning  his  own  feelings  and  thought,  and  lacks  cor- 
rect judgments  of  the  external  world.  Comparison  of  his  various  works  discloses  a 
striking  poverty  of  thought.  The  flow  of  his  thoughts  often  halts,  and  in  such  ex- 
tremities obscure,  apparently  profound,  but  in  reality  nonsensical  circumlocutions 
are  resorted  to.  The  religious  impressions  of  his  youth  are  retained,  but  are  not 
harmonised  with  his  new  sphere  of  thought.  Although  he  puts  himself  up  as  a  free- 
thinker, three  religious  notions  constantly  enter  his  thoughts  and  act  like  fixed  ideas  : 
heredity,  sin,  confession,  and  self-sacrifice  or  redemption.  He  is  also  often  guilty 
of  a  nonsensical  symbolism.  As  he  has  not  correctly  comprehended  and  judged  the 
world,  but  is  a  strongly  emotional  and  impulsive  nature,  he  is  in  a  constant  state  of 
revolt  against  everything  that  exists.  He  does  not  undertake  any  rational  criticism 
of  the  existing  order  of  things  ;  he  does  not  show,  for  instance,  what  is  bad  or  what 
might  be  made  better  :  no,  he  simply  casts  upon  it  the  one  reproach  that  it  exists. 
He  is  a  theorising  anarchist  whose  teachings  teem  with  self-contradictions  —  "a 
malignant,  misanthropic  Faselhans."  C.  U. 

ERNST  PLATNER  UNO  KANT'S  KRITIK  DER  REINEN  VERNUNFT,  MIT  BESONDERER  BE- 
RUCKSICHTIGUNG  VON  TETENS  UNO  AfiNESiDEMUs.  By  Dr.  Arthur  Wreschner. 
Leipsic:  C.  E.  M.  Pfeffer.  1893.  Price,  aM.,  50  Pf. 

In  1889  the  philosophical  faculty  of  the  University  of  Berlin  proposed  the  ques- 
tion of  Ernst  Platner's  scientific  relation  to  Kant  as  the  subject  for  a  prize  disserta- 
tion. The  present  treatise  of  Dr.  Wreschner  was  one  of  those  which  this  offer 
called  forth.  It  includes  also  a  special  consideration  of  Tetens  and  Aenesidemus. 
Platner,  says  Dr.  Wreschner,  was  not  an  original  thinker,  and,  by  his  own  confes- 
sion, made  no  pretension  to  originality.  He  is  rather  to  be  regarded  as  an  eclectic, 
something  after  the  style  of  Leibnitz.  He  brought  together  from  all  quarters  what 


316  THE  MONIST. 

he  deemed  best  and  most  serviceable  for  the  construction  of  an  independent  system. 
Only  in  his  case  Leibnitz's  genius  was  lacking.  Of  the  three  dominant  schools  at 
Platner's  time  —  the  rationalistic,  the  empirical,  and  sceptical  —  Leibnitz  and  Kant 
were  the  representatives  of  the  first,  Gottlob  Ernst  Schulze  (Aenesidemus)  of  the 
third,  and'  Tetens  of  the  second.  After  that  of  Leibnitz  and  Kant,  Tetens's  in- 
fluence on  Platner  is  greatest.  A  consideration  of  the  philosophies  of  all  these  men, 
therefore,  is  incorporated  by  Dr.  Wreschner  in  his  book. 

Platner  being  admittedly  an  unoriginal  thinker,  and  one  who  has  not  contrib- 
uted any  prominent  feature  to  the  physiognomy  of  the  world's  thought,  it  might  be 
remarked  that  learned  and  laborious  discussions  of  his  relations  to  contemporary 
philosophers  are  a  waste  of  time  and  mental  energy,  But  this  is  not  Dr.  Wresch- 
ner's  opinion.  According  to  him,  it  is  only  by  a  study  of  the  average  minds  of  an 
age  that  its  true  character  and  tendencies  can  be  .determined  ;  in  fact,  without  this 
help,  even  its  foremost  minds  cannot  be  justly  estimated. 


PHILOSOPHY  AND  POLITICAL  ECONOMY  IN  SOME  OF  THEIR  HISTORICAL  RELATIONS. 
By  James  Bonar,  M.  A.,  LL.  D.  London  :  Swan  Sonnenschein  &  Co.  New 
York  :  Macmillan  &  Co.  1893. 

The  work  of  the  Library  of  Philosophy  is  rapidly  pushing  forward.  Besides 
Erdmann's  general  work  on  the  "History  of  Philosophy"  three  other  historical 
treatises  have  now  been  published,  dealing  respectively  with  ethics,  theology,  and 
(the  present  work)  economics.  Along  list  is  marked  as  "in  preparation,"  among 
them,  on  this  subject,  being  "The  History  of  Political  Philosophy,"  by  Mr.  D.  G. 
Ritchie,  whose  work,  "  Darwin  and  Hegel,"  is  reviewed  in  this  Monist. 

Dr.  Bonar's  work,  a  contribution  to  the  second  series  of  the  library,  or  the  de- 
partment which  treats  of  the  history  of  particular  theories,  is  a  portly,  'well-indexed 
volume  of  four  hundred  and  ten  pages,  the  publishers'  work  of  which  is  excellent, 
and  which  the  author  has  much  increased  in  value  by  adding  an  introduction,  a 
summary,  and  a  good  table  of  contents.  Dr.  Bonar's  work  in  the  proportions  in 
which  it  is  here  undertaken,  is  a  new  and  unattempted  one,  only  monographs,  lim- 
ited to  special  periods,  having  hitherto  been  written  on  this  subject.  The  idea  of 
the  book  —  that  of  tracing  the  connexions  of  economical  and  philosophical  ideas 
throughout  the  whole  of  their  history  —  was  suggested  to  Dr.  Bonar  by  a  remark  of 
Prof.  Adolph  Wagner  of  Berlin. 

The  author  first  takes  up  Ancient  Philosophy,  and  deals  with  Plato,  Aristotle, 
the  Stoics  and  Epicureans,  and  Christianity,  treating  of  the  idea  of  wealth,  produc- 
tion and  distribution,  and  civil  society  in  these  systems.  The  characteristic  of  An- 
cient Philosophy  in  this  respect  is  that  the  ancient  philosophers  treated  more  fully 
of  economical  topics  than  modern  philosophers  do,  the  reason  being  that  the  two 
disciplines,  philosophy  and  economics,  were  originally  not  separated.  But  although 
subsequently  direct  economic  discussion  occupies  a  proportionately  smaller  space  in 
philosophical  works,  on  the  other  hand  the  consideration  of  the  philosophical  roots 


BOOK  REVIEWS.  317 

of  economical  ideas  is  much  more  thoroughly  treated.  This  is  the  characteristic  of 
the  later  period.  With  Book  II,  on  Natural  Law,  the  discussions  of  modern  philos- 
ophy begin.  Here  Machiavelli,  More,  Bodin,  Grotius,  Hobbes,  Harrington,  Locke, 
Hume,  the  Physiocrats,  and  Adam  Smith  are  treated.  In  Book  III  the  doctrines  of 
Malthus,  Bentham,  the  two  Mills  (the  Utilitarian  Economists)  ;  in  Book  IV,  those 
of  Kant,  Fichte,  Krause,  Hegel  (the  Idealistic  Economists);  in  Book  V,  those  of 
Karl  Marx,  Engels,  Lassalle  (the  Materialistic  Economists),  and  the  Evolutionists, 
are  discussed.  In  modern  times,  \ve  find,  political  economy  grows  out  of  political 
philosophy.  The  mercantile  theory  was  essentially  political  ;  so  were  Hobbes' s 
and  Locke's  theories  of  property.  Even  afterwards,  when  economical  subjects  were 
ethically  discussed  by  Mandeville,  Hutcheson,  and  Hume,  the  systems  of  Smith  and 
the  French  economists  were  the  outgrowth  of  political  considerations.  The  philo- 
sophical, or  rather  metaphysical,  notion  of  natural  law,  and  its  later  offspring,  the 
rights  of  man,  persists  even  in  the  economical  works  of  to-day.  Finally,  in  modern 
socialism,  philosophical  and  economical  problems,  before  only  tacitly  connected, 
are  now  openly  combined.  With  respect  to  the  psychological  element  in  economics, 
it  may  be  mentioned  that  this  has  only  recently  been  emphasised,  although  begin- 
nings of  it  are  noticeable  in  ancient  philosophy,  and  are  well  marked,  for  instance, 
in  Hume. 

One  word  with  regard  to  the  influence  of  Darwinism,  and  we  close.  Dr.  Bonar 
believes  that  the  effect  of  the  doctrine  of  natural  selection  is  not  especially  to  favor 
socialism,  or,  for  that  matter,  any  particular  plan  of  social  reform.  The  develop- 
ment of  the  individual  members  of  society  is  the  chief  end  of  society  and  the  state  ; 
as  long  as  human  nature  remains  what  it  is,  the  state  must  exist.  But  as  each  indi- 
vidual must  use  the  opportunities  assured  by  the  State  in  his  own  way,  also  great 
individual  liberty  must  be  secured  ;  whatever  change  may  be  made  in  the  statute 
laws  of  property,  room  must  yet  be  left  for  personal  and  moral  freedom,  for  origin- 
ality, for  individual  variation  :  if  it  is  not,  mankind  will  be  the  losers. 


PERIODICALS. 


ZEITSCHRIFT  FUR  PSYCHOLOGIE  UND  PHYSIOLOGIE  DER  SINNES- 

ORGANE.     Vol.  V.     No.  6.     Vol.  VI.     Nos.  i,  2,  and  3. 
ZUR  THEORIE  DER    "  FLATTERNDEN   HERZEN."     By  A.   Schapringer. — NOCH- 
MALIGE  ABLEHNUNG  DER  CEREBRALEN  ENTSTEHUNG  VON  SCHWEBUNGEN.     By 
Karl  L.  Schaefer. 

ZUR  LEHRE  VON  DEN  OPTISCHEN  TAUSCHUNGEN.  By  Franz  Brentano. — DIE 
BEDEUTUNG  DER  APHASIE  FUR  DIE  MUSIKVORSTELLUNG.  By  Richard  Wal- 
laschek. — BEMERKUNGEN  UBER  ZWEI  AKUSTISCHE  APPARATE.  By  C.  Stumpf. 

EXPERIMENTELLE    BEITRAGE    ZUR     UNTERSUCHUNG    DBS    GfiDACHTNISSES.       By 

G.  E.  Mtiller  and/'.  Schumann. — UEBER  DIE  GEISTIGEERMUDUNG  VONSCHUL- 
KINDERN.  By  L.  Hopfner. — UEBER  EINE  DEPRESSIONSFORM  DER  INTELLIGENZ 
IN  SPRACHLICHER  BEZiEHUNG.  By  M.  O.  Fraenkel. — EINE  SELBSTBEOBACH- 
TUNG  UBER  GEFUHLSTON.  By  M.  O.  Fraenkel. — UEBER  EINE  SUBJEKTIVE 
ERSCHEINUNG  IM  AUGE.  By  P.  Zeeman. — LITTERATURBERICHT.  (Hamburg 
and  Leipsic  :  Leopold  Voss.) 

REVUE  PHILOSOPHIQUE.     Vol.  XVIII.     Nos.  10  and  u. 

L'ABUS  DE  L'INCONNAISSABLE  ET  LA  REACTION  CONTRE  LA  SCIENCE.  By  A. 
Fouillee. — Du  ROLE  DE  LA  PATHOLOGIE  MENTALE  DANS  LES  RECHERCHES  PSY- 
CHOLOGIQUES.  By  L.  Marillier. — L'ARRET  IDEO-EMOTIONNEL  :  ETUDE  SUR 

UNE  LOI  PSYCHOLOGIQUE. 
L'ANCIENNE  ET  LES  NOUVELLES  GEOMETRIES.    I.    L/ESPACE  REEL  EST-IL  L'ESPACE 

EUCLIDIEN  ?    By  /.  Delbauf. — SUR  LES  PARAMNESIES.     By  Andre  Lalande. — 

LA  CLASSIFICATION  DBS  TYPES  MORAUX  ET  LA  PSYCHOLOGIE  GENERALE.      By  F. 

Paulhan. — SUR  LA  DEFINITION  DU  SOCIALISMS.  By  E.  Durkheim. — LA  DEFI- 
NITION DU  SOCIALISMS.  By  H.  Mazel.  (Paris  :  Felix  Alcan.) 

A.  Fouillee  discovers  a  reaction  in  the  philosophical  world  against  the  doctrine 
of  the  Unknowable.  He  reviews  the  opinions  (i)  of  those  who  hold  that  we  do  not 
know  whether  the  Unknowable  exists,  and  whether  or  not  it  is  possible  at  all,  (2)  of 
those  who  deny  its  existence,  and  (3)  of  those  who  regard  it  not  only  as  objectively 
possible,  but  even  as  real.  M.  Fouillee  concludes  his  article  with  the  statement 
that  ' '  the  quite  problematic  idea  of  the  Unknowable  can  and  must  again  and  again 
raise  the  question  concerning  the  entire  Knowable,  but  it  cannot  reach  the  domain 
of  science.  Neither  can  the  Unknowable  diminish,  nor  can  it  destroy,  our  knowl- 
edge where  it  exists.  Under  these  conditions  science  need  not  trouble  itself  about 


PERIODICALS.  319 

the  transcendent  Unknowable,  which  in  itself  is  just  as  inactive  as  the  gods  of  Epi- 
curus. The  scientist  has  to  think  and  act  in  the  presence  of  known  or  unknown 
objects,  according  to  the  laws  which  are  eminent  in  the  Knowable.  In  order  to 
humiliate  the  pride  of  man's  scientific  accomplishments,  lest  he  fall  into  the  exag- 
gerated dogma  of  Hegel,  it  is  sufficient  to  think  of  the  Unknown,  which  still  beclouds 
our  science." 

Concerning  the  religious  aspect  of  the  Unknowable,  Fouillee  adds  :  "  The  Un- 
knowable and  the  unconscious  can  as  much  and  as  little  be  the  abyss  of  darkness  as 
the  abyss  of  light,  whether  represented  as  the  illogical  "  will  "  placed  by  Schopen- 
hauer at  the  origin  of  the  worst  of  all  worlds,  or  the  inscrutable,  but  adorable,  Father 
of  the  mystics.  In  fact,  one  does  not  adore  that  which  is  absolutely  unintelligible. 
One  bends  one's  knee  before  something  which  can  be  conceived  and  is,  at  least  in 
part,  knowable.  One  does  not  deify  that  which  in  some  respects  is  human." 

M.  L.  Marillier  discusses  the  import  of  mental  pathology  in  psychological  re- 
searches. The  article  is  a  very  diligent  review  of  M.  V.  Magnan's  publications  on 
"Alcoholism,"  paying  special  attention  to  the  hallucinations  of  alcoholic  delirium. 

Prof.  J.  Delboeuf's  article  on  "  The  Old  and  New  Geometries,"  is  the  first  of  a 
series,  which,  as  we  expect,  will,  after  its  publication  in  the  Revue  Philosophique, 
appear  in  book  form.  The  present  article  discusses  the  problem  whether  real  space 
is  Euclidean.  The  answer  which  Professor  Delboeuf  will  give  to  this  question,  in  his 
further  development  of  the  problem  of  space,  may  be  gathered  from  the  same  author's 
article  in  the  present  number  of  77/6'  Monist,  which  presents  his  views  on  the  subject 
with  great  conciseness  and  precision. 

M.  Andre  Lalande,  in  discussing  the  maladies  of  memory,  believes  in  the  pos- 
sibility of  an  abnormal  perception,  which  he  calls  telepathy,  without  explaining  its 
cause. 

M.  Paulhan  defines  a  character  as  an  arrangement  of  biological  phenomena 
considered  in  their  social  import,  and  makes  some  suggestions  concerning  the  classi- 
fication of  the  various  moral  types. 

VIERTELJAHRSSCHRIFT  FUR  WISSENSCHAFTLICHE  PHILOSOPHIE. 

Vol.  XVII,     No.  4. 

WERTHTHEORIE  UND  ETHIK.  By  C/ir.  Ekrenfels. — ZUR  FRAGE  UBER  DIE  FREI- 
HEIT  DES  WILLENS.  N.  Swereff. — ZUR  KRITIK  DER  HISTORISCHEN  METHODE. 
E.  Wackier. — DIE  GRAPHISCHE  DARSTELLUNG  DER  SCHWANKUNG  DES  SYS- 
TEMS C.  By  R.  Avenarius.  (Leipsic  :  O.  R.  Reisland.) 

Prof.  Christian  Ehrenfels  reviews  in  the  present  article,  which  is  the  fourth 
one  in  his  series,  "  the  theory  of  worth  in  ethics,  the  results  of  ethical  estimation." 
He  finds  that  the  recognition  of  the  moral  character  of  an  individual  will  bring  an 
increase  directly  of  love  and  confidence,  and  indirectly  of  renown  and  power,  while 
on  the  contrary,  he  who  is  ethically  despised  will  lose  in  the  same  measure.  There 
is  a  tendency  to  promote  those  whose  worth  is  appreciated,  and  to  check  those  who 
are  deemed  unworthy. 

N.  Swereff,  of  Moscow,  Russia,  criticises  the  traditional  view  of  a  free  will 
which  is  generally  defined  to  be  such  as  is  not  subject  to  the  law  of  causation. 

Prof.  E.  Wachler  quotes  from  the  famous  historian  Ranke  that  "  the  ultimate 
aim  of  the  historian  must  always  be  to  present  facts  that  are  true."  The  same 
author  says  in  another  passage  (in  his  "Introduction  to  the  History  of  the  Roman 
and  the  German  Nations")  :  "It  has  been  said  that  history  has  to  judge  the  past 


320  THE  MONIST. 

for  the  benefit  of  the  present  generation  and  the  generations  to  come, "but  the  pres- 
ent enterprise  does  not  undertake  this  high  office.  It  attempts  only  to  state  that 
which  has  happened.  Wachler  criticises  this  position  and  shows  that  an  uninter- 
ested standpoint  is  actually  impossible. 

MIND.     NEW  SERIES,  No.  8. 

A  CRITICISM  OF  CURRENT  IDEALISTIC  THEORIES.  By  Arthur  James  Balfour. — 
ON  THE  NATURE  OF  LOGICAL  JUDGMENT.  By  E.  E.  C.  Jones. — IDEALISM 
AND  EPISTEMOLOGY.  II.  By  Prof.  H.  Jones. — ON  THEORIES  OF  LIGHT- 
SENSATION.  By  C.  L.  Franklin. — TIME  AND  THE  HEGELIAN  DIALECTIC.  I. 
By  J.  Ellis  McTaggart. — DISCUSSIONS,  ETC.  (London  and  Edinburgh  :  Wil- 
liams &  Norgate.) 

THE  PHILOSOPHICAL  REVIEW.     Vol.  II.     No.  6. 

OLD  AND  NEW  IN  PHILOSOPHIC  METHOD.  By  Prof.  Henry  Calderwood. — SELF- 
REALISATION  AS  THE  MORAL  IDEAL.  By  Prof.  John  Dewey. — CERTITUDE. 
By  Prof.  Walter  Smith. — PSYCHOLOGICAL  MEASUREMENTS.  By  Dr.  E.  W. 
Scripture. — GERMAN  KANTIAN  BIBLIOGRAPHY.  By  Dr.  Erich  Adickes. — BOOK 
REVIEWS.  (Boston,  New  York,  Chicago:  Ginn  &  Co.) 

INTERNATIONAL  JOURNAL  OF  ETHICS.     Vol.  IV.     No.   i. 

MY  STATION  AND  ITS  DUTIES.  By  Henry  Sidgtvick. — WHAT  JUSTIFIES  PRIVATE 
PROPERTY  ?  By  W.  L.  Sheldon. — THE  EFFECTS  OF  His  OCCUPATION  UPON 
THE  PHYSICIAN.  By  John  S.  Billings. — THE  KNOWLEDGE  OF  GOOD  AND  EVIL. 
By  Josiah  Royce. — A  PHASE  OF  MODERN  EPICUREANISM.  By  C.  M.  Williams. 
DISCUSSIONS. — BOOK  REVIEWS.  (Philadelphia  :  International  Journal  of  Eth- 
ics, 118  S.  Twelfth  Street.) 


VOL.   IV.  APRIL,    1894.  No.  3. 


THE  MONIST. 


THREE  ASPECTS  OF  MONISM. 

IN  the  manuscript  draft  *   of  the  Preface  of  my  forthcoming  work 
in  the  Contemporary  Science  Series  entitled  "An  Introduction  to 
Comparative  Psychology  "  I  have  written  as  follows  : 

"  In  a  treatise  on  human  psychology  it  may  be  possible  and  ad- 
visable to  proceed  on  purely  empirical  lines  and  to  keep  in  the  back- 
ground the  philosophy  of  the  subject.  But  in  a  consideration  of 
comparative  psychology  such  a  procedure  seems  to  be  neither  pos- 
sible nor  advisable.  It  will  conduce  to  clearness  and  prevent  mis- 
conception, therefore,  if  I  state  at  once  that  the  interpretation  of 
nature  which  I  accept  is  a  monistic  interpretation.  Now  what  do  I 
mean  by  a  monistic  interpretation?  What  form  of  monism  is  it  that 
I  accept? 

"First  of  all  I  accept  a  monistic  theory  of  knowledge.  The 
dualist  starts  with  the  conception  of  a  subject  introduced  into  the 
midst  of  a  separately  and  independently  existent  objective  world. 
For  him  the  problem  of  knowledge  is  how  these  independent  exist- 
ences, subject  and  object,  can  be  brought  into  relation.  In  the  mo- 
nistic theory  of  knowledge  it  is  maintained  that  to  start  with  the 
conception  of  subject  and  object  as  independent  existences  is  false 
method,  and  that  the  assumed  independence  and  separateness  is  no- 


*  This  is  only  a  first  draft  and  will  undergo  modification,  amplification,  and 
revision.  I  quote  it  here  as  it  stands  in  my  manuscript.  I  propose  to  incorporate 
some  of  the  matter  in  the  latter  part  of  this  article. 


322  THE    MON1ST. 

wise  axiomatic.  Starting  then  from  the  common  ground  of  naive 
experience  it  contends  that,  prior  to  philosophising,  there  is  neither 
subject  nor  object  but  just  a  bit  of  common  practical  experience. 
When  a  child  sees  a  sweet  or  when  a  dog  sees  a  cat,  there  is  a 
piece  of  naive  and  eminently  real  experience  upon  which  more  or 
less  energetic  action  may  follow.  It  is  only  when  we  seek  to  explain 
the  experience  that  we  polarise  it  in  our  thought  into  subject  and 
object.  But  what  logical  right  have  we  to  say  that  the  subject  and 
object  which  we  thus  distinguish  in  thought  are  separate  in  exist- 
ence? No  doubt  it  is  a  not  uncommon  and  a  not  unnatural  fallacy 
to  endow  with  independent  existence  the  distinguishable  products 
of  our  abstract  and  analytic  thought.  The  distinguishable  redness 
and  scent  of  a  rose  may  thus  come  to  be  regarded  as  not  only  dis- 
tinguishable in  thought  but  also  separable  in  existence.  But  until 
it  shall  be  shown  that  '  distinguishable  in  thought'  and  'separate 
in  existence '  are  interchangeable  expressions,  or  that  whatever  is 
distinguishable  is  also  separable,  the  conclusion  is  obviously  falla- 
cious. And  it  is  this  fallacy  which  the  monist  regards  as  the  fun- 
damental error  of  the  dualistic  theory  of  knowledge.  While  dualism, 
then,  starts  with  what  I  deem  the  illegitimate  assumption  of  the  in- 
dependence of  subject  and  object,  the  monist,  starting  from  the  com- 
mon ground  of  experience,  looks  upon  subject  and  object  as  dis- 
tinguishable aspects  of  that  which  in  experience  is  one  and  indivis- 
ible. It  need  only  be  added  that  this  is  a  theory  of  knowledge  and 
of  the  experience  of  which  knowledge  is  the  outcome.  Of  that  which 
is  not  known  and  not  experienced  it  neither  asserts  nor  denies  any- 
thing. But  accepting  as  it  does  the  reality  of  experience  it  does 
assert  that  the  aspect  which  we  polarise  as  objective  is  just  as  real, 
and  real  in  the  same  sense,  as  the  aspect  we  polarise  as  subjective. 
The  reality  of  object  and  subject  is  strictly  co-ordinate.  And  those 
who  hold  this  view  regard  as  little  better  than  nonsense  the  assertion 
that  whereas  the  reality  of  the  subject  is  unquestionable  the  reality 
of  the  object  is  a  matter  that  is  open  to  discussion. 

"Secondly,  I  accept  a  monistic  interpretation  of  nature  and  of 
man  as  a  product  of  natural  development.  The  essence  of  this  view 
is  that  man  as  an  organism  is  one  and  indivisible  (though  variously 


THREE  ASPECTS  OF  MONISM.  323 

maimable),  no  matter  how  many  aspects  he  may  present  objectively 
and  subjectively.  That  the  inorganic  and  organic  world  have  reached 
their  present  condition  through  process  of  evolution  is  now  widely 
accepted.  But  the  dualist  contends  that  mind  is  a  separable  exist- 
ence, sui  generis,  and  forming  no  part  of  the  natural  world  into  which 
it  is  temporarily  introduced.  Here  the  monist  joins  issue  and  con- 
tends that  alike  in  its  biological  and  its  psychological  aspect  the  or- 
ganism is  the  product  of  evolution ;  that  mind  is  not  extra-natural 
nor  supra-natural  but  one  of  the  aspects  of  natural  existence. 

"Thirdly,  I  accept  and  have  attempted  to  develop  a  form  of 
analytic  monism.  Assuming  a  concomitance  between  the  nervous 
changes  in  some  part  of  the  brain  and  the  psychical  states  expe- 
rienced by  the  individual  whose  brain  it  is,  and  assuming  further 
that  the  nervous  changes  are  transformations  of  energy,  it  is  sug- 
gested that  what  is  under  its  objective  aspect  a  complex  series  of 
transformations  of  energy  in  the  nervous  tissue  is  under  its  subjec- 
tive aspect  a  complex  series  of  psychical  states.  It  is  also  suggested 
that  something  allied  to  consciousness,  that  is  to  say  of  the  same 
aspect  in  nature  (let  us  call  it  infra-consciousness),  may  be  similarly 
associated  with  all  manifestations  of  energy.  One  of  my  critics, 
Dr.  A.  R.  Wallace,  has  objected  that  this  suggestion  is  only  an 
awkward  restatement  of  that  which  Schopenhauer  formulated  with 
much  greater  clearness.  I  venture  to  think  that  this  criticism  shows 
a  misapprehension  of  my  view  or  of  that  of  Schopenhauer.  The 
essence  of  Schopenhauer's  conception,  as  I  understand  it,  is  that  the 
underlying  activity  in  the  objective  world,  namely,  that  force  of  which 
energy  is  a  manifestation,  though  not  the  only  manifestation,  is  but 
the  objective  aspect  of  that  which  is  the  underlying  activity  in  sub- 
jective experience,  namely,  will.  This  is  a  monistic  conception  which 
I  accept ;  but  my  modification  of  Clifford's  mind-stuff  hypothesis, 
though  an  allied  conception,  is  not  the  same  as  that  of  Schopen- 
hauer. 

"Now  analytic  monism  by  itself  is  insufficient  and  partial.  It 
is  open  to  the  criticism  that  while  professedly  monistic  it  postulates 
a  dual  aspect  and  is  therefore  merely  dualism  in  disguise.  But  this 
criticism  falls  to  the  ground  when  this  analytic  monism  is  taken  in 


324  THE  MONIST. 

association  with  the  monistic  theory  of  knowledge  and  the  monistic 
interpretation  of  nature  and  of  man.  My  monism  must  be  judged 
as  a  whole  or  not  at  all.  Hence  I  have  taken  this  opportunity  of 
presenting  a  brief  outline  of  the  form  of  monism  which  I  accept." 

On  reading  the  exceptionally  interesting  number  of  The  Monist 
for  January,  it  occurred  to  me  that  it  might  be  of  interest  to  those 
who  have  read  these  articles  to  read  also  what  I  had  written  and  have 
above  quoted  ;  and  that  I  might  be  allowed  here  to  add  somewhat 
to  what  I  have  above  so  briefly  and  baldly  set  forth  concerning  the 
three  aspects  of  monism. 

THE  MONISTIC  THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 

I  believe  that  as  a  theory  of  knowledge  my  own  view  is  not  very 
different  from  that  of  Dr.  Lewins  and  Mr.  McCrie,  but  both  these 
writers  appear  to  me  to  assume  that  what  is  adequate  as  a  theory 
of  knowledge  suffices  as  an  interpretation  of  nature.  Even  as  a  the- 
ory of  knowledge  these  are  expressions  which  appear  to  be  awkward 
or  misleading.  Dr.  Lewins  speaks  of  "exploding  'thing'  alto- 
gether "  and  "substituting  our  own  thoughts  for  objects  of  all  kinds." 
He  says  : 

"It  is  true,  or  it  may  be  granted,  that  there  is  an  objective  or  distal  aspect  of 
subjective  thought.  But  that  fact,  or  admission,  in  no  degree  invalidates  the  posi- 
tion that  the  only  objects  cognisable  are  those  incorporated  with,  and  by,  the  sub- 
ject self,  from  which  all  'things'  proceed." 

Now  if,  as  I  contend,  subject  and  object  are  of  co-ordinate  real- 
ity, through  the  polarising  action  of  our  thought,  I  see  no  reason 
why  "thing"  any  more  than  "think"  should  be  exploded  ;  nor  do 
I  see  why  our  own  thoughts  should  be  substituted  for  objects  of  all 
kinds  rather  than  objects  of  all  kinds  be  substituted  for  our  thoughts. 
If  there  is  an  objective  or  distal  aspect  of  subjective  thought,  this 
aspect  has  a  reality  strictly  co-ordinate  with  the  proximal  or  sub- 
jective aspect  of  things.  I  profess  that  I  am  unable  to  see  why  we 
should  speak  of  a  self  from  which  all  things  proceed  rather  than 
of  things  from  which  the  self  proceeds.  And  when  that  clear  thinker 
and  elegant  writer,  Miss  Constance  Naden,  says  that  "every  man 
is  the  maker  of  his  own  cosmos,"  she  would  have  done  well  to  add 


THREE  ASPECTS  OF  MONISM.  325 

four  monosyllables  and  to  write  :  Every  man  is  the  maker  of  and  is 
made  by  his  own  cosmos.  Mr.  McCrie  uses  similar  expressions. 
He  says  : 

"No  appulse,  or  outside  stimulus,  is  really  thinkable,  as  external.  It  is  part 
of  the  cosmos  which,  spider-like,  I  spin  from  my  internal  self.  And,  when  I  image 
such  externality,  I  but  create  it." 

I  am  not  sure  that  I  quite  understand  what  Mr.  McCrie  means 
by  the  first  part  of  this  passage.  It  appears  to  me  that  the  outside 
stimulus  is  thinkable  as  external,  and  that  Mr.  McCrie  must  think  it 
as  external  in  the  very  act  of  trying  to  explain  it  away.  To  say  that 
spider-like  I  spin  the  cosmos  from  my  internal  self  is  unadulterated 
idealism,  just  as  Mr.  Ward's  doctrine,  that  mind  is  a  property  of 
the  substance  protoplasm,  is  unadulterated  materialism.  As  a  theory 
of  knowledge  I  should  prefer  to  say:  The  self  and  the  cosmos  are 
the  co-ordinate  products  of  our  abstract  and  generalising  thought  on 
the  common  matter  of  experience  as  polarised  into  object  and  sub- 
ject; or,  more  briefly,  self  and  cosmos  are  the  polarised  aspects  of 
experience  as  explained  through  reason. 

I  do  not  think,  however,  that  there  is  at  bottom  much  difference 
between  Dr.  Lewins  or  Mr.  McCrie  and  myself  on  the  monistic 
theory  of  knowledge,  and  Dr.  Carus  is,  I  feel  sure,  with  me  or — let 
me  say  more  modestly — I  with  him.  It  would  seem,  however,  from 
his  article,  that  Mr.  McCrie  would  make  what  is  a  theory  of  knowl- 
edge into  an  interpretation  of  nature.  He  starts  with  quotations 
from  Professor  Veitch  which  deal  with  "the  subsistence  of  force 
that  passes  out  of  my  perception,"  and  then  proceeds  to  give  this 
further  quotation  : 

"We  distinguish  ourselves  from  the  object  or  percept.  .  .  .  Are  we  entftled  on 
this  ground  to  say  that  its  whole  reality  is  identical  with  its  perceived  reality?  That 
it  may  not  subsist  apart  from  the  time  of  our  perception,  either  as  it  is,  or  in  some 
form  capable  again  of  appearing  to  us  as  an  object,  even  an  object  similar  to  what 
we  now  perceive?  " 

Professor  Veitch,  without  professing  to  explain  the  mode  of  its 
existence — nay,  further  suggesting  that  we  may  here  be  face  to  face 
with  the  "insoluble  mystery  of  being  " — assumes  that  it  may  so  sub- 


326  THE  MONIST. 

sist.     And   Mr.  McCrie,  after  some  discussion,    closes   the  section 
with  these  words  : 

'•'•Here  is  a  subject-object  relation  admittedly  fortuitous  and  temporary ." 

Further  on  he  gives  us  what  he  terms  the  "Open  sesame  !  "  of 
auto-monism. 

"Atom,  vibration,  undulation,  mutual  attraction,  all  these  are  not,  save  as  I 
shape  them,  and,  in  the  last  recess  of  philosophy,  as  in  the  extreme  limit  of  physics, 
/  am,  and  there  is  none  else.  '  The  cosmic  systole  and  diastole  are  one  with  the 
pulsing  throb  of  my  own  egoity.'  " 

Now,  the  criticism  I  would  make  on  all  this  is  that  what  is  quite 
satisfactory  as  a  theory  of  knowledge  is,  if  I  understand  Mr.  McCrie 
aright,  assumed  to  be  also  a  satisfactory  interpretation  of  nature.  I 
presume  we  may  take  the  italicised  words  "are  not"  as  meaning 
"are  non-existent."  I  ask  Mr.  McCrie  on  what  logical  grounds  he 
makes  this  somewhat  bold  assertion.  The  theory  of  knowledge 
deals  with  experience,  polarises  it  into  subject  and  object,  and  so 
forth.  Well  and  good.  But  what  of  that  which  is,  or  may  be,  or 
may  not  be,  prior  to  experience  and  posterior  to  experience?  The 
theory  of  knowledge  that  is  modest  and  knows  its  business  replies, 
"  I  do  not  know.  I  deal  with  experience.  I  can  tell  you  nothing 
concerning  that  which  is  not  yet  experience  or  no  longer  experience. 
That  is  a  matter  of  the  interpretation  of  nature."  I  contend  that 
Mr.  McCrie  has  no  logical  right  to  assert  or  deny  anything  concern- 
ing atom,  vibration,  and  the  rest  "save  as  he  shapes  them  "  in  his 
experience.  He  has  no  logical  right  to  say,  "/  am,  and  there  is  none 
else."  He  should  sound  a  more  modest  note  and  say  :  "I  am,  and 
what  is  outside  my  knowledge  I  do  not  know." 

The  gist  of  my  criticism  of  Mr.  McCrie  and  those  whose  views 
he  represents  is  that  though  their  theory  of  knowledge  is  substan- 
tially correct,  it  is  by  itself  insufficient  and  cannot  be  regarded  as  an 
interpretation  of  nature  or  an  explanation  of  that  experience  with 
the  two  aspects  of  which  it  deals. 

THE  MONISTIC  INTERPRETATION  OF  NATURE. 

There  are  some  excellent  folk  who  believe  that  philosophy  is 
possible  without  assumptions.  I  am  not  among  their  number.  Hy- 


THREE  ASPECTS  OF  MONISM.  327 

potheses,  or  assumptions,  are  as  necessary  in  philosophy  as  they  are 
in  science. 

Mr.  McCrie  appears  to  regard  as  necessarily  dualistic  the  as- 
sumption that  the  world,  or,  to  take  a  concrete  example,  a  stone  on 
a  lonely  mountain  height,  may,  when  no  one  is  perceiving  it,  exist 
"either  as  it  is  or  in  some  form  capable  again  of  appearing  to  us  as 
object."  The  reason  is  obvious.  For  him  knowledge  is  coextensive 
with  existence.  The  stone  under  the  given  circumstances  is  not  the 
objective  aspect  of  a  bit  of  experience;  therefore,  it  is  either  non- 
existent or  his  monism  falls  to  the  ground ;  hence  he  proclaims  it 
non-existent.  1  prefer  the  other  alternative  and  contend  that  his 
monism  is  insufficient.  But  I  deny  that  the  assumption  is  neces- 
sarily dualistic  in  the  sense  that  it  is  necessarily  incompatible  with 
a  monistic  interpretation  of  nature.  For  nature  is  wider  than  knowl- 
edge. 

I  assume  that  the  stone  on  that  lonely  mountain-top  exists 
"  either  as  it  is  or  in  some  form  capable  again  of  appearing  to  us  as 
object,"  whether  any  one  is  there  to  perceive  it  or  not.  I  cannot 
possibly  prove  this.  I  suppose  I  accept  it  for  this  reason  ;  that  of 
the  two  hypotheses,  (a]  that  it  continues  to  exist  in  some  form  or 
other,  whether  an  object  of  experience  or  not,  and  (<£)  that  it  dodges 
in  and  out  of  existence  according  as  it  is  perceived  or  not  perceived, 
(a]  satisfies  me,  while  (^)  satisfies  Mr.  McCrie.  Anyhow,  if  I  can- 
not prove  (a),  neither  can  Mr.  McCrie  prove  (£).  I  assume,  then, 
that  the  world  which  forms  the  objective  aspect  of  knowledge  con- 
tinues somehow  to  exist  quite  independently  of  its  being  perceived. 
How  it  exists,  I  do  not  know,  and  (I  make  this  confession  with 
bated  breath)  after  mumbling  the  problem  a  good  deal  in  my  philo- 
sophic teething  days  I  have  ceased  to  care. 

That  there  is  a  nature  to  interpret  is  thus  an  hypothesis  or  as- 
sumption, the  sole  justification  of  which  is  that  the  hypothesis, 
though  it  can  never  be  proved,  accords  more  satisfactorily  with  the 
facts  of  experience  than  any  other  assumption.  It  does  not  conflict 
with  the  monistic  theory  of  knowledge;  it  merely  fills  in  the  gaps  of 
actual  experience  with  "permanent  possibilities"  of  experience. 
And  now  we  have  got  our  world,  the  question  is  how  we  are  to  in- 


328  THE  MONIST. 

terpret  it.     Here  I  am  quite  content  to  accept  Dr.  Carus's  definition 
of  this  aspect  of  monism. 

"  Monism  is  a  unitary  world-conception." 

Here  again  I  am  sure  that  we  ought  not  to  be  ashamed  of  stat- 
ing frankly  the  hypothetical  nature  of  our  view.  We  assume  that 
what  we  call  nature  is  coextensive  with  knowable  existence.  We 
assume  that  far,  very  far,  as  we  may  be  at  present  from  anything 
like  a  complete  or  adequate  explanation  of  nature,  it  is  explicable, 
and  that  by  one  method,  the  method  of  scientific  procedure.  Herein 
lies  the  essence  of  our  monism  under  this  aspect.  If  in  the  wide 
region  of  the  known  and  the  knowable  (we  leave  the  unknowable 
for  those  whom  it  may  concern)  there  be  any  modes  of  existence 
which  not  only  are  not  explicable,  but  from  their  very  nature  can 
never  be  explicable  as  parts  of  one  self-consistent  whole,  our  mo- 
nism falls  to  the  ground.  We  contend  that  it  is  this  to  which  the 
science,  the  philosophy,  the  poetry,  aye  and  the  religion,  too,  when 
purged  of  superstitious  accretions,  has  been  tending  throughout  the 
centuries  of  human  progress. 

A  monistic  interpretation  of  nature,  so  long  as  it  holds  true  to 
the  main  principle  of  being  throughout  self-consistent,  allows  any 
amount  of  individual  freedom  in  the  treatment  of  details.  It  is 
characterised  not  by  the  possession  of  a  common  scientific  or  philo- 
sophic creed,  but  by  a  common  aim.  It  appears  to  me,  for  exam- 
ple, that  in  the  evolution  which  sweeps  through  nature  the  under- 
lying activity  is  throughout  characterised  by  the  following  traits  : 
(i)  it  is  selective;  (2)  it  is  synthetic;  (3)  it  tends  from  chaos  to 
cosmos.  And  these  traits  seem  to  me  characteristic  alike  of  inor- 
ganic, organic,  and  mental  evolution.  Now  I  dare  say  there  are 
not  half  a  dozen  independent  monists  who  will  agree  with  me  in 
singling  out  these  three  traits  for  especial  prominence.  But  what 
does  that  matter?  My  aim  is  monistic  as  is  also  theirs.  And  there 
is  plenty  of  room  for  many  differences  and  even  divergencies  of 
opinion  among  those  who  are  in  search  of  a  self-consistent  theory 
of  thought  and  things. 


THREE  ASPECTS  OF  MONISM.  329 


ANALYTIC  MONISM. 

I  have  already  indicated  how,  in  my  opinion,  a  monistic  theory 
of  knowledge  must  be  supplemented  by  a  monistic  interpretation  of 
nature.  Either  without  the  other  is  incomplete. 

I  now  turn  to  what  may  be  termed  analytic  monism.  This  con- 
sists in  an  analysis  of  the  object  of  knowledge,  or,  in  other  words, 
of  nature,  as  known  and  knowable.  Now  here  it  is  essential  quite 
clearly  to  grasp  the  fact  that  all  that  we  know  must,  in  the  act  of 
becoming  known,  be  an  object  of  knowledge.  The  object  of  knowl- 
edge is  not  merely  the  object  of  sense,  but  includes  also  the  object 
of  thought.  All  that  we  know  of  the  subject,  all  that  we  attribute 
to  the  self,  must,  in  becoming  known,  be  the  object  of  thought.  It 
is  only  in  reflexion  or  introspection,  which  is  also  retrospection,  that 
this  is  possible.  You  cannot  analyse  any  bit  of  experience  at  the 
moment  when  it  is  being  experienced,  you  can  only  look  back  upon 
it  in  a  subsequent  moment  of  reflexion.  In  that  subsequent  moment 
it  may  be  polarised  into  object  and  subject,  and  either  the  objective 
aspect  or  the  subjective  aspect  may  then  be  the  object  of  thought. 
In  this  way  the  subjective  aspect  of  experience  in  moment  (V)  may 
be  object  of  thought-experience  in  any  subsequent  moment  (^).  But 
never  can  the  subject  of  experience  in  any  moment  be  the  object  of 
knowledge  in  the  same  moment.  Hence  it  follows  that  without  re- 
flexion there  can  be  no  knowledge  of  the  subjective  aspect  of  expe- 
rience. And  hence  it  follows  also  that  our  knowledge  is  always 
dealing  with  the  self  of  a  moment  ago.  It  is  an  assumption  which 
can  never  be  proved,  but  one  on  the  validity  of  which  we  all  place 
complete  reliance,  that  the  subject  is  continuous  and  that  the  sub- 
ject of  the  present  moment  is  practically  identical  with  the  subject 
of  a  moment  ago  of  which  we  have  knowledge  through  reflective 
thought. 

Let  us  take  that  natural  object  which  we  call  a  man,  and  let  us 
assume  that  he  is  constituted  in  all  essential  respects  as  we  are. 
We  analyse  him  in  thought ;  and  we  may  carry  our  analysis  but 
a  short  distance  or  as  far  as  ever  we  can.  Analyse  him  a  little  way 


330 


THE  MONIST. 


down  and  we  reach  the  conception  of  body  and  mind.  It  is  clear 
that  the  concepts  of  this  analysis  are  closely  connected  in  origin 
with  the  concepts  reached  by  the  analysis  of  experience,  and  that 
body  and  mind  are  analogous  to  object  and  subject.  Now  the  fact 
to  which  analytic  monism  should,  as  it  seems  to  me,  stick  close  is, 
that  body  and  mind  are  the  products  of  analysis.  What  is  prac- 
tically given  is  the  man  ;  and  this  man  is  one  and  indivisible,  though 
he  may  be  polarised  in  analysis  into  a  bodily  aspect  and  a  conscious 
aspect.  It  may  be  said  that  this  is  an  assumption.  Granted.  It  is 
part  of  the  fundamental  assumption  of  the  monistic  interpretation 
of  nature.  According  to  that  assumption  or  hypothesis  the  organism 
in  all  its  aspects  is  a  product  of  natural  evolution.  We  proceed  to 
study  that  product.  We  analyse  these  aspects.  We  find  that  a  cer- 
tain group  of  them  hang  together  in  a  special  way,  and  we  call  them 
bodily  aspects;  and  we  find  that  a  quite  different  group  of  them 
hang  together  in  their  special  way,  and  we  call  them  mental  aspects. 
There  is  no  getting  on  without  an  hypothesis  of  some  kind,  and  this 
is  the  one  which  the  monist  adopts.  The  dualist  says  that  the 
organism  in  its  bodily  aspect  is  a  product  of  evolution  or  of  some 
other  process  of  genesis,  and  that  the  mind  is  implanted  therein  by 
some  extra-natural  process.  That  is  his  assumption.  The  future 
must  decide  which  assumption  is  the  more  reasonable. 

According  to  the  monistic  assumption,  then,  the  organism  is  one 
and  indivisible,  but  is  polarisable  in  analytic  thought  into  a  bodily 
and  a  mental  or  conscious  aspect.  Body  and  mind,  like  object  and 
subject,  are  distinguishable,  but  not  separable.  And  now  we  pro- 
ceed to  carry  the  analysis  deeper ;  we  reach  the  brain  or  some  part 
of  it ;  and  here  our  analysis  discloses  as  one  aspect  certain  forms  of 
nervous  change  or  transformations  of  energy,  and  as  the  other  as- 
pect certain  phases  of  consciousness.  Note  clearly  that  this  is  merely 
through  carrying  further  the  same  process  of  analysis,  and  that,  of 
the  products  of  analysis,  neither  can  claim  priority  or  superior  va- 
lidity over  the  other.  They  are  strictly  co-ordinate  :  each  is  as  real 
as  the  other.  The  true  reality  is  the  man  with  which  the  analysis 
starts  :  no  valid  product  of  the  analysis  of  that  man  through  the 
application  of  rational  thought  can  be  more  real  than  another. 


THREE  ASPECTS  OF  MONISM.  331 

The  question  then  arises  :  Given  an  organism  in  which  analysis 
gives  two  aspects,  complex  energy  and  complex  consciousness,  from 
what  have  these  been  evolved  by  an  evolution  which  is  selective, 
synthetic,  and  cosmic  or  determinate  ?  From  the  nature  of  the  case 
the  evolution  of  the  bodily  aspect  is  that  of  which  alone  we  can  have 
objective  knowledge.  We  trace  the  evolution  backwards  and  find, 
in  our  interpretation  thereof,  simpler  and  simpler  organisms  until 
the  organic  passes  into  the  inorganic.  We  find  the  energy  less  and 
less  complex  as  we  look  back  through  the  vista  of  the  past.  And 
what  about  the  other  aspect  ?  Does  it  not  seem  reasonable  to  sup- 
pose that,  no  matter  what  stage  we  select,  analysis  would  still  dis- 
close the  two  aspects?  That  with  simpler  modes  of  nerve-energy 
there  would  go  simpler  modes  of  consciousness,  and  that  with  infra- 
neural  modes  of  energy  there  would  be  infra- consciousness  or  that 
from  which  consciousness,  as  we  know  it,  has  arisen  in  process  of 
evolution?  This  is  admittedly  speculative.  But  is  it  illogical? 

Let  us  return,  however,  from  this  speculative  excursion  to  em- 
phasise again  the  fact  that  for  monism  the  organism  in  practical  ex- 
perience is  the  starting-point ;  that  it  is  one  and  indivisible  though 
it  has  different  aspects  which  may  be  distinguished  in  analytic 
thought ;  and  that  these  aspects  are  strictly  co-ordinate  ;  neither  is 
before  nor  after  the  other. 

Now,  opposed  to  such  a  view  are  (i)  the  hypothesis  of  material- 
ism according  to  which  the  body  is  the  real  substance,  the  mind 
being  one  of  its  properties,  and  (2)  the  hypothesis  of  what  may  be 
termed  psychism,  which  is,  in  the  words  of  Charles  Kingsley,  "that 
your  soul  makes  your  body,  just  as  a  snail  makes  its  shell,"  that 
mind  is  the  reality  of  which  the  body  is  merely  the  phenomenal  as- 
pect. I  welcome  Dr.  Carus's  definition  of  such  theories  : 

' '  They  are  pseudo-monistic,  and  to  distinguish  them  from  true  monism,  we 
propose  to  call  them  henisms,  or  single-concept  theories." 

They  are  opposed  to  monism,  as  I  interpret  it,  in  that  they  depart 
from  the  cardinal  principle  of  monism,  which  is  that  practical 
experience  is  the  fountain-head  of  reality.  They  give  to  one  pro- 
duct of  the  analysis  of  this  experience  a  validity  superior  to  that  of 
another  product  of  this  analysis.  No  doubt  such  a  procedure  is  ad- 


332  THE  MONIST. 

missible.  The  henist  has  a  perfect  right  to  say  this  is  my  hypothesis 
or  assumption.  You  must  not  reject  it  simply  because  it  is  a  differ- 
ent assumption  from  that  which  you  make  yourself.  Quite  so.  It 
is  because  I  regard  it  as  a  different  assumption  that  I  welcome  Dr. 
Carus's  term  henism.  Henism  must  be  judged  on  its  merits. 

I  cannot  attempt  to  discuss  Mr.  Lester  F.  Ward's  henistic  the- 
ory of  mind.  It  appears  to  me  to  be  a  restatement  of  materialism. 
I  have  myself  passed  through  a  phase  of  materialistic  thought  ;  but 
I  have  since  then  weighed  it  with  due  care  and  found  it  wanting. 

In  conclusion  I  must  repeat  that,  in  my  judgment,  the  full 
strength  of  monism  is  not  apparent  until  we  view  it  in  its  three 
phases  as  a  theory  of  knowledge,  an  interpretation  of  nature,  and  an 
hypothesis  which  correlates  energy  and  consciousness.  Monism 
must  be  judged  as  a  whole  or  not  at  all.  Its  cardinal  tenets  are  : 
that  nature  is  one  and  indivisible  and  is  explicable  on  one  method, 
the  method  of  reason  ;  that  experience  is  one  and  indivisible,  though 
we  may  distinguish  its  subjective  and  objective  aspects  ;  that  man 
is  one  and  indivisible,  though  our  analysis  may  disclose  two  strongly 
contrasted  aspects,  body  and  mind.  It  contends  that  man  in  both 
aspects,  biological  and  psychological,  is  the  product  of  an  evolution 
that  is  one  and  continuous  ;  and,  combining  the  results  of  its  theory 
of  knowledge  with  those  of  its  analysis  of  man,  it  identifies  the  mind, 
as  a  product  of  evolution,  with  the  subject,  as  given  in  experience. 


C.   LLOYD  MORGAN. 
BRISTOL,  ENGLAND. 


THE  PARLIAMENT  OF  RELIGIONS. 

r  I  AHE  Parliament  of  Religions  was  the  name  of  a  drama,  played, 
-1-  not  in  a  church,  but  in  a  "  Palace  of  Art,"  with  pagan  gods  in 
marble  watching  the  performance  and  wondering  what  the  lesson  of 
it  was.  This  Parliament  was  a  genial  transmutation  of  religious  ani- 
mosities into  social  friendships,  but  it  was  neither  Pentecost  nor 
Babel,  although  it  had  resemblances  to  both.  It  was  discords  look- 
ing for  concord  among  the  very  same  brambles  where  their  enmities 
grew ;  a  congregation  of  wanderers  in  the  desert  of  dead  creeds, 
searching  the  skies  for  another  pillar  of  fire  and  a  miraculous  pilot- 
cloud.  It  was  like  the  old  monks  praying  in  gloomy  cells  for  light, 
and  refusing  to  go  outside  the  cloisters  into  the  wholesome  world 
where  the  blessed  sunshine  was. 

The  advertised  object  of  the  Parliament  was  : 

' '  To  unite  all  religion  against  all  irreligion  ;  to  make  the  golden  rule  the  basis 
of  this  union  ;  to  present  to  the  world  the  substantial  unity  of  many  religions  in 
the  good  deeds  of  the  religious  life." 

This  call,  while  rather  indefinite,  was  construed  liberally,  as  it 
should  have  been,  because  "all  religion"  may  mean  a  syndicate  of 
all  the  sects,  or  it  may  signify  all  the  virtues  in  their  abstract  form, 
for  the  meaning  of  the  word  "religion"  has  been  much  improved 
in  these  latter  days.  "All  irreligion,"  in  its  new  interpretation,  may 
refer  to  every  vice  and  error,  or  it  may  apply,  as  in  the  days  of  re- 
ligious persecution,  to  the  characters  of  nonconformists,  heretics, 
unbelievers,  malignants,  and  all  who  are  outside  the  pale  of  church, 
or  mosque,  or  synagogue.  Therefore,  the  value  of  the  purpose  must 
be  measured  not  by  the  rhetoric  of  the  call  but  by  its  actual  mean- 


334  THE  MONIST. 

ing.  If  it  means  a  closer  union  of  all  men  in  the  bonds  of  mutual 
affection,  it  is  good  ;  but  if  it  means  a  union  of  those  who  practise 
forms  of  worship  against  those  who  do  not,  it  is  bad.  The  more 
the  sects  divided,  the  safer  it  was  for  men  ;  and  schism  is  better  than 
union  wherever  the  churches  are  strong.  The  less  unity  there  is  in 
the  creeds,  the  better  it  is  for  the  religion  of  knowledge  and  good 
works. 

As  a  rule,  the  appeals  for  unity  were  made  in  a  broad  and  lib- 
eral spirit,  that  said  "brotherhood  of  man,"  and  meant  it  ;  but  oc- 
casionally was  heard  the  old,  familiar  denial  of  unity,  except  upon 
such  terms  as  the  churches  may  prescribe ;  for  instance,  the  Rev. 
Thomas  Richey,  of  the  General  Theological  Seminary  of  New  York, 
treating  the  aspiration  for  unity  as  a  sentimental  chimera,  said  : 
"Let  men  dream  as  they  will,  it  is  the  power  of  religion  that  is  the 

only  one  unifying  bond  that  can  ever  bind  together  the  sum  of  the 

• 

human  family."  It  was  the  old  formula,  the  hoary  commandment, 
coupled  with  a  threat,  that  has  carried  strife  and  moral  desolation 
round  the  world,  "You  must  be  brothers  in  the  church,  or  you  shall 
not  be  brothers  at  all."  For  thousands  of  years  theological  religion 
has  been  dividing  the  "human  family"  into  hostile  tribes  ;  and  now 
Doctors  of  Divinity  tell  us  that  nothing  but  religion  can  reunite  that 
separated  family  in  the  bonds  of  Nature's  brotherhood. 

There  were  some  wise  men  in  the  Parliament  who  saw  the  value 
of  dividing  religion  into  religions,  and  religions  into  sects,  and  on 
this  part  of  the  subject  the  Rev.  Dr.  Philip  Schaff,  of  New  York, 
said  :  "  Before  we  discuss  reunion,  we  should  acknowledge  the  hand 
of  Providence  in  the  present  divisions  of  Christendom.  Sects  are  a 
sign  of  life  and  interest  in  religion."  The  Rev.  George  T.  Candlin 
thought  otherwise,  for  in  agony  of  soul  he  cried  aloud,  "Our  divi- 
sions are  strangling  us. " 

This  cosmopolitan  assembly  was  not  strictly  a  parliament,  be- 
cause extemporaneous  debate  was  absent.  It  was  rather  a  World's 
Fair  of  theological  exhibits  with  a  sort  of  Midway  Plaisance  attach- 
ment for  the  brie  a  brae  of  creeds.  It  was  a  conventicle  where  dele- 
gates on  the  platform  representing  different  and  opposing  liturgies 
delivered  essays  on  theoretical  religion  to  a  miscellaneous  laity  on 


THE  PARLIAMENT  OF  RELIGIONS.  335 

the  floor.  It  was  an  recumenical  council  to  compare  theologies, 
although  the  spirit  of  non-theological  religion  found  expression  in 
the  contributions  of  the  editor  of  this  magazine  and  some  other  dele- 
gates, who  saw  the  dawn  of  a  new  religious  era  containing  less  myth 
and  more  truth,  less  creed  and  more  deed,  less  dogma  and  more 
proof. 

Toward  one  another,  with  few  exceptions,  the  delegates  were 
tolerant,  sympathetic,  and  kind,  but  there  was  discord  among  the 
creeds.  In  daily  repetitions  the  orators  expanded  a  sentiment  into  a 
religion,  and  they  proclaimed  it  in  a  multitude  of  echoes  as  "The 
Fatherhood  of  God,  and  the  Brotherhood  of  Man."  What. they  really 
wanted  was  a  "  revised  version  "  of  this  newer  testament.  They  had 
been  spiritually  fed  for  years  on  Fatherhood  and  Brotherhood,  but 
there  was  not  enough  of  that  manna  and  quail  for  the  wants  of  the 
world.  They  were  afraid  to  say  so,  but  their  aspiration  was  for  more 
Fatherhood  in  God,  and  more  Brotherhood  in  Man.  While  there 
was  in  the  harmonies  of  the  Parliament  a  strain  of  TeDeum  Laudamus, 
there  was  also  in  the  minor  keys  a  wail  of  De  Profundis,  "  Out  of  the 
depths  I  have  cried  to  thee,  O,  Lord  ;  O,  Lord,  hear  my  voice. "  It 
was  the  plaintive  cry  of  disappointed  souls  for  a  new  God. 

If  the  intention  of  the  congress  was  to  show  to  heathens,  Jews, 
and  pagans,  the  superiority  of  Christianity  to  their  benighted  faiths, 
its  purpose  failed.  Long  before  the  end  of  the  Parliament  our  hymns 
of  self-glory  were  sung  in  a  penitential  key.  In  the  presence  of  the 
heathens  and  the  pagans,  Christian  Doctors  of  Divinity  came  to  the 
mourner's  bench  and  made  confession  that  Christianity  had  imposed 
itself  upon  mankind  by  force,  fear,  deception,  dogmatism,  and  cere- 
monials. In  sorrow  they  said  that  it  showed  no  sanctity  of  man- 
ners for  the  imitation  of  other  creeds  ;  that  as  a  theory  of  heaven 
it  was  well  enough,  but  that  as  a  rule  of  righteousness  for  practical 
uses  on  this  earth  it  had  not  set  a  good  example  ;  and  that  the  time 
had  come  for  "christianising  Christendom." 

One  day,  a  visitor  impressed  by  the  occasion,  said  to  a  friend, 
"Are  the  old  religions  worn  out?"  The  answer  was,  "No,  they 
are  found  out."  Some  of  the  proceedings  justified  the  sarcasm,  for 
listening  to  the  testimony  as  it  was  occasionally  given  from  the  plat- 


336  THE   MONIST. 

form,  the  impartial  observer  wondered  whether  the  old  religions 
were  on  exhibition  for  censure  or  for  praise ;  and  whether  the  Par- 
liament was  convened  in  order  to  repeal  them  or  merely  to  repair 
them  and  adapt  them  to  the  twentieth  century.  Many  of  the  Chris- 
tian exhibitors  advertised  their  faith  and  exalted  it  above  all  the 
others  as  the  moral  and  spiritual  essence  of  Divinity  itself,  the  only 
power  to  save  souls  and  give  them  life  everlasting  ;  and  yet  Chris- 
tianity was  the  only  religion  there  that  was  accused  and  condemned 
by  some  of  its  own  teachers  consecrated  and  ordained  for  its  evan- 
gelical and  sacramental  work  ;  a  phenomenon  that  puzzled  all  the 
foreigners  from  Greenland's  icy  mountains  to  India's  coral  strand. 
At  the  World's  Fair  proper,  more  awards  for  excellence  were 
given  to  the  heathens  than  it  was  thought  possible  they  could  win  \ 
and  so  it  was  at  the  Parliament.  In  the  competition  of  religions  the 
heathens  carried  away  the  prizes  of  most  value,  while  the  agnostics; 
and  the  unbelievers  cheered.  Christianity  received  "honorable 
mention  "  here  and  there  for  its  material  achievements,  but  its  ex- 
hibits of  moral  and  religious  work  were  not  of  a  high  order.  Its 
mottoes  and  precepts,  its  amulets  and  charms  were  much  admired, 
but  it  got  no  gold  medals  for  its  national  or  international  morality. 
For  these  reasons  there  is  a  suspicion  in  many  pulpits  that  it  was 
unwise  to  call  the  Parliament,  and  that  it  has  weakened  the  churches 
in  America.  The  Rev.  Dr.  Morgan  Dix  of  New  York,  in  a  sermon 
preached  on  Sunday  November  12,  said  : 

"We  have  recently  been  treated  to  the  sight  of  what  was  called  the  Parliament 
of  Religions.  I  do  not  believe  that  those  who  projected  the  scheme  were  animated 
by  any  feeling  of  antagonism  to  Christianity.  I  impugn  no  one's  motive.  I  do  say, 
however,  that  the  Christians  who  were  there  were  attacking  the  cross  of  Christ.  I 
do  not  forget,  but  thank  God  for  it,  that  some  strong  utterances  were  heard  from 
Christian  men  who  stood  up  for  Christ  in  that  odd  company  with  as  much  strength 
as  could  be  exhibited  with  courtesy  to  the  other  guests.  I  doubt,  however,  that  if 
the  prime  movers  of  that  Parliament  had  wanted  to  spread  agnosticism  they  could 
have  made  a  better  move.  It  was  a  masterpiece.  Through  the  rose-colored  haze 
of  that  atmosphere  one  seems  to  discern  above  the  heads  of  the  Jewish  rabbi,  the 
Indian  priest,  the  Greek  patriarch,  and  the  learned  advocates  of  Shintoism,  Brah- 
manism,  and  Romanism,  a  banner  bearing  this  inscription,  '  To  the  Unknown  God.'  " 

It  was  not  so  much  a  sacrifice  to  the  Unknown  God,  as  it  was 


THE  PARLIAMENT  OF  RELIGIONS.  337 

the  anticipatory  worship  of  the  new  God  coming  with  a  better  dis- 
pensation ;  a  prayer  for  the  blending  of  all  souls  into  one  universal 
soul.  As  expressed  by  the  Rev.  P.  C.  Mozoomdar,  a  Hindu  priest. 
"  This  unity  of  man  with  man  is  the  unity  of  man  with  God,  and  the 
unity  of  man  with  man  in  God  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 

There  was  nothing  said  against  Christianity  in  the  Parliament 
that  had  not  been  said  by  scoffers  and  sceptics  long  ago,  and  from 
them  it  might  easily  be  endured,  but  it  grieved  the  soul  of  Dr.  Dix 
that  "  Christians  who  were  there  were  attacking  the  cross  of  Christ." 
Perhaps  they  were  only  thrown  in  for  emphasis  to  give  pungency  to 
the  scolding,  but  some  of  the  invectives  hurled  at  Christianity  by 
Christian  clergymen  were  somewhat  exaggerated,  as  will  appear 
from  the  following  specimen  taken  from  the  address  made  by  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Alger  of  New  York  :  "  The  great  Anti-Christ  of  the  world 
is  the  unchristian  character  and  conduct  of  Christendom.  We  put 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  in  the  background  and  work  like  incarnate 
devils  for  every  form  of  self-gratification." 

On  the  other  hand,  some  of  the  Christian  divines  who  "  stood  up 
for  Christ  in  that  odd  company, "  in  their  exaggerated  praise  of  Chris- 
tianity made  it  so  aristocratic,  arrogant,  exclusive,  and  self-righteous, 
that  its  portrait  as  painted  by  Dr.  Alger  was  not  much  improved. 
A  very  fair  quality  of  dogmatic  and  rather  uncivil  Christianity  was 
presented  by  Professor  Wilkinson,  a  theologist  of  Chicago,  who 
"stood  up  for  Christ"  and  nobody  else  ;  and  who  thought  it  neces- 
sary in  doing  so  to  tear  away  from  Christianity  all  humility  and  tol- 
eration as  blemishes  on  its  character.  Generously  assuming  that  all 
our  souls  are  "lost,"  he  maintained  that  they  could  be  "saved" 
only  in  the  Christian  church,  and  he  said  : 

' '  The  only  religion  that  can  be  accounted  true  is  the  religion  that  is  trustworthy 
to  save.  .  .  .  Christianity  leaves  no  loophole  of  escape  for  the  judged  and  reprobate 
Anti-Christian  religions  with  which  it  comes  in  contact.  It  shows  instead  only  indis- 
criminate damnation  leaping  like  forked  lightning  from  the  presence  of  the  Lord. 
The  attitude  of  Christianity  towards  all  other  religions  is  one  of  universal,  absolute, 
eternal,  and  unappeasable  hostility." 

The  above  certificate  of  character  ought  to  be  accepted,  because 
it  comes,  not  from  an  untaught  superstitious  peasant,  or  a  monk  of 


338  THE  MONIST. 

the  dark  ages,  but  from  a  professor  of  the  University  of  Chicago,  in 
the  latter  part  of  the  overrated  nineteenth  century  ;  not  the  ninth, 
but  the  nineteenth,  in  fact,  almost  the  twentieth  century.  Professor 
Wilkinson  fortified  his  position  with  many  "  forked  lightning  "  texts 
from  the  Scriptures  of  the  New  Testament ;  but  the  difficulty  with 
him  is  that  his  argument  is  obsolete. 

Professor  Wilkinson  treated  with  contempt  the  "mysteries"  of 
heathen  religions;  as  if  there  were  no  "mysteries  "  in  his  own.  He 
was  immediately  followed  by  the  Rev.  John  Devine  of  New  York,  who 
glorified  Christianity  for  giving  to  other  religions  a  message  of 
Fatherhood,  Brotherhood,  Redemption,  Atonement,  Character,  and 
Service.  Like  a  magician  conjuring  with  his  abracadabra,  he  over- 
awed reason  by  presenting  Christianity  to  the  people  as  a  "mighty 
mystery."  Speaking  of  its  founder,  Mr.  Devine  explained  that  "in 
taking  the  form  of  man  he  did  not  seek  the  permission  of  ordinary 
laws,  but  he  came  in  his  own  spiritual  chariot  in  the  glory  of  the 
supernatural."  That  is  very  much  like  the  African  theology  that 
prevailed  among  the  negroes  in  the  days  of  slavery.  They  could 
not  imagine  any  person  going  into  heaven,  or  coming  out  of  it, 
except  in  a  "chariot."  As  hope  was  forbidden  them  in  this  world, 
they  found  some  consolation  in  believing  that  some  day  they  would 
be  riding  over  the  golden  pavements  of  the  new  Jerusalem  in  a 
"chariot."  They  thought  that  when  the  sorrows  of  this  life  were 
over  they  would  be  carried  up  to  heaven  in  a  "chariot,"  and  they 
lightened  their  bondage  a  little  by  singing  "Swing  low,  sweet  char- 
iot, coming  for  to  carry  me  home."  If  the  Christian  religion  is  a 
"mighty  mystery,"  then  revelation  reveals  nothing,  but  conceals 
everything,  and  instead  of  solving  religious  puzzles,  it  creates  them. 

The  belief  was  present  in  some  of  the  divines  that  if  the  Roman 
Catholic  Church  could  be  excluded  from  it,  Christianity  would  get 
along  very  well,  while  some  others  thought  that  the  only  religious 
unity  possible  was  in  the  Church  of  Rome.  The  Rev.  Mr.  Maury,  a 
French  Protestant  said,  "The  French  people  hold  in  abhorrence 
intolerance  and  hypocrisy,  so  that  they  could  never  endure  the  spirit 
of  Jesuits  and  Pharisees."  The  Rev.  Mr.  Gmeiner,  a  Catholic,  was 
of  a  different  opinion,  for  he  said:  "The  religion  of  Christ  will 


THE  PARLIAMENT  OF  RELIGIONS.  339 

ultimately  reunite  the  entire  human  family  in  the  bonds  of  truth,  love, 
and  happiness."  In  his  enthusiastic  imagination,  he  conjured  up  an 
impossible  future,  and  beheld,  as  in  a  vision,  science  again  the  bond- 
maid of  religion  in  the  service  of  Rome  ;  the  restoration  of  those 
benighted  centuries,  when  men  had  the  minds  of  asses,  without  the 
asinine  bravery  to  kick  ;  when  the  king  owned  the  bodies  of  the 
people,  and  the  bishop  owned  their  souls  ;  for,  said  this  hopeful 
prophet,  "the  true  home  for  all  under  God  is  the  Holy  Catholic 
Church."  The  science  of  his  religion  had  convinced  this  learned 
ecclesiastic  that  man  had  not  lived  upon  this  planet  longer  than  ten 
thousand  years.  The  limit  allowed  by  theology  was  formerly  six 
thousand  years,  but  he  was  willing  now  to  grant  four  thousand 
additional  years. 

To  the  possible  dismay  of  that  reverend  father,  Mr.  M.  T.  Elder, 
a  Roman  Catholic  from  New  Orleans,  came  into  court,  gave  himself 
up,  and  turned  state's  evidence  against  his  church.  He  complained 
that  it  was  losing  strength  and  reputation,  and  that  it  was  not  great 
either  in  achievements  or  in  men.  He  seemed  to  think  that  it  was 
deficient  in  moral  genius  and  intellectual  vitality.  With  some  bit- 
terness of  sorrow,  he  said  : 

"The  great  men  of  this  nation  are  and  will  continue  to  be  Protestant.  I  speak 
not  of  wealth,  but  of  brain,  of  energy,  of  action,  of  heart.  The  great  philanthro- 
pists, the  great  orators,  the  great  writers,  thinkers,  leaders,  scientists,  inventors, 
teachers  of  our  land  have  been  Protestant.  What  does  surprise  me  is  the  way  we 
have  of  eulogising  ourselves,  of  talking  buncombe  and  sprea*d-eagle,  and  giving 
taffy  all  round.  But,  truly,  I  cannot.  When  I  see  how  largely  Catholicity  is  repre- 
sented among  our  hoodlum  element,  I  feel  in  no  spread-eagle  mood." 

Although  the  style  of  Mr.  Elder  was  not  a  model  of  elegance, 
many  of  the  addresses  delivered  by  Christian  delegates  displayed 
eloquence  of  good  literary  quality  ;  but  much  of  it  was  pulpit  elo- 
quence, asserting,  declaring,  and  proclaiming,  without  condescend- 
ing to  anything  so  rudely  secular  as  proof,  or  even  evidence  ;  for  in- 
stance, the  Rev.  Dr.  Burrell,  of  New  York,  in  a  gush  of  scriptural 
metaphor  and  psalm,  poured  out  his  rejoicings  thus  : 

"  God  be  praised  for  this  congress  of  religions.  Never  before  has  Christianity 
— the  one  true  religion — been  brought  into  such  open  and  decisive  contrast  with 


340  THE  MONIST. 

the  other  religions  of  the  world.  This  is  indeed  the  Lord's  controversy.  The  altars 
are  built,  the  bullocks  slain,  the  prayers  are  offered,  and  the  nations  stand  behold- 
ing. Now,  then,  the  God  that  answered  by  fire,  let  him  be  God." 

This  was  a  dangerous  challenge,  the  language  musical  enough 
but  it  was  gong-music,  emotional  declamation,  and  defiance.  The 
Oriental  Gentiles  on  the  platform,  guests  of  the  Christian  theolo- 
gians, listened  with  heathen  courtesy,  while  their  entertainer  gave 
them  to  understand  that  his  particular  special  theology  was  the  "one 
true  religion";  and  they  looked  at  him  with  polite  wonder  when  he 
challenged  them  to  test  it  by  the  ordeal  of  fire,  a  plan  of  judgment 
that  never  was  very  truthful,  and  one  that  has  long  been  abandoned 
by  civilised  law.  Had  the  heathens  and  the  pagans  accepted  the 
challenge,  Dr.  Burrell  would  certainly  have  lost,  for  God  no  longer 
decides  by  fire  the  vainglorious  wagers  of  men.  It  is  true,  according 
to  the  Scriptures,  that  God  answered  by  fire  the  appeal  of  Elijah, 
and  thus  enabled  the  Hebrew  prophet  to  win  the  wager  he  had  made 
with  the  prophets  of  Baal,  but  that  was  under  the  old  dispensation, 
and  such  a  miracle  will  never  be  done  again.  It  is  also  true,  ac- 
cording to  the  same  authority,  that  Elijah  took  the  losers  down  to 
the  brook  Kishon  and  "  slew  them  there."  A  religion  that  stakes 
its  character  or  its  truth  on  the  fiery  ordeal  by  which  Elijah  won 
his  victory  at  Mount  Carmel,  is  rash  when  it  invites  a  contrast  be- 
tween itself  and  other  faiths  ;  and  it  is  doubly  rash  when  it  presents 
the  tragedy  of  I^ishon  as  a  specimen  of  its  toleration  and  its  mercy. 

Forgetting  the  work  of  their  own  missionaries,  the  Christians 
in  the  Parliament  thought  that  the  heathens  there  would  bow  down 
reverently  before  the  spiritual  splendors  of  Christianity,  but  the 
Mohammedans  and  the  Buddhists  and  the  Brahmans  told  them 
that  the  heathens  knew  Christianity  well.  They  were  sorry  they 
could  not  give  it  a  good  character,  because  it  had  corrupted  the 
manners  of  their  people,  broken  the  faith  of  treaties,  fomented  sedi- 
tion, prevailed  by  violence,  and  had  made  the  cross  a  menace  to 
their  freedom  and  the  symbol  of  their  subjugation.  Satsumchyra,  a 
Brahman  priest,  comparing  the  hypothetical  Christianity  of  England 
and  America  with  the  "applied"  Christianity  of  his  own  country, 
said  : 


THE  PARLIAMENT  OF  RELIGIONS.  34! 

"Our  friends  here  have  been  picturing  to  you  Christianity  standing  with  the 
Bible  in  one  hand  and  the  wizard's  wand  of  civilisation  in  the  other,  but  there  is 
another  side,  and  that  is  the  goddess  of  civilisation  with  a  bottle  of  rum  in  her 
hand.  Oh,  that  the  English  had  never  set  foot  in  India !  Oh,  that  we  had  never 
seen  a  Western  face  !  Oh,  that  we  had  never  tasted  the  bitter  sweets  of  your  civili- 
sation, rather  than  that  she  make  us  a  nation  of  drunkards  and  brutes." 

And  Horin  Toki,  after  enumerating  the  blessings  conferred  by 
Buddhism  upon  Japan,  said  :  "  It  is  a  pity  that  we  see  some  false 
and  obstinate  religionists  have  been  so  carelessly  trying  to  introduce 
some  false  religions  into  our  country." 

One  day  the  Parliament  was  violently  shaken  by  the  speech  of 
Kinza  Ringa  M.  Hirai,  a  Buddhist  from  Japan.  This  address  was 
very  nearly  Christian  in  its  combative  accusations  and  replies.  With 
spiritual  and  ideal  Christianity  M.  Hirai  had  no  quarrel ;  in  fact,  he 
expressed  great  admiration  for  it ;  but  he  condemned  the  actual  and 
material  Christianity  that  had  invaded  the  empire  of  Japan,  and  he 
sarcastically  resented  the  inhospitable  welcome  given  to  the  Japanese 
by  the  Christians  of  California.  In  his  complaint,  he  said  :  "Among 
the  innumerable  unfair  judgments,  the  religious  thought  of  my  coun- 
trymen is  especially  misrepresented,  and  the  whole  nation  is  con- 
demned as  heathen."  He  declared  that  the  Japanese  were  not 
sectarian  ;  that  the  wise  and  virtuous  thoughts  of  all  religions  were 
adopted  in  Japan,  and  that  from  the  beginning  of  her  history,  Japan 
"has  received  all  teachings  with  open  mind." 

Having  asserted  that  the  religion  of  Japan  was  not  at  all  jealous 
of  other  faiths,  M.  Hirai  spoke  freely  of  the  injustice  practised  on 
his  people  by  the  Christians,  and  he  said  that  among  the  vices 
brought  into  Japan  by  Western  civilisation  there  were  some  "which 
were  utterly  unknown  before  and  entirely  new  to  us — heathen,  none 
of  whom  would  dare  to  speak  of  them  even  in  private  conversation." 
M.  Hirai  showed  also  that  in  the  religion  of  diplomacy  the  Bud- 
dhists were  as  infants  in  the  hands  of  the  Christians.  He  proved 
that  in  the  making  of  commercial  and  political  treaties  between  his 
countrymen  and  the  Western  powers,  the  Japanese  had  been  cheated 
in  a  systematic  and  highly  civilised  way.  Further,  that  all  efforts  to 
revise  and  amend  those  treaties,  so  as  to  put  them  on  the  plane  of 


342  THE  MONIST. 

justice,  had  been  consistently  and  persistently  defeated  by  the  Chris- 
tians. It  is  not  surprising  that,  smarting  under  experimental  Chris- 
tianity, M.  Hirai  should  look  with  suspicion  upon  the  emotional 
goodness  and  metaphysical  benevolence  of  the  Christian  religion. 

Under  the  meek  and  gentle  exterior  of  the  Orientals  there  was 
a  stratum  of  what  goes  by  the  name  of  manly  spirit.  They  were 
slow  to  anger,  but  they  resented  insult,  for  when  the  Rev.  Dr.  Pen- 
tecost of  London,  after  advertising  his  own  exhibit  in  a  very  boast- 
ful way,  and  contemptuously  diminishing  the  Hindu  gods,  as  not  at 
all  to  be  put  in  comparison  with  Christ,  reflected  with  some  coarse- 
ness on  the  chastity  of  those  women  who  serve  in  the  temples  of  In- 
dia, a  Hindu  delegate,  Mr.  Gandhi,  repelled  the  sneer  as  a  calumny, 
and  rebuked  the  self-righteousness  of  the  critic  by  pouring  pity  on 
his  head  in  this  way  ;  he  said : 

' '  This  platform  is  not  a  place  for  mutual  recrimination,  and  I  am  heartily 
sorry  that  from  time  to  time  a  most  un-Christian  spirit  is  allowed  free  scope  here, 
but  I  know  how  to  take  these  recriminations  at  their  proper  value.  .  .  .  Some  men 
in  their  ambition  think  that  they  are  Pauls.  These  new  Pauls  go  to  vent  their 
platitudes  upon  India.  They  go  to  India  to  convert  the  heathens  in  a  mass,  but 
when  they  find  their  dreams  melting  away  they  return  to  pass  a  whole  life  in  abus- 
ing the  Hindu.  Abuse  is  not  argument  against  any  religion,  nor  self-adulation  a 
proof  of  the  truth  of  one's  own." 

This  was  dignified  and  severe,  but  lest  the  rebuke  might  fall 
upon  other  Christians,  innocent  of  offence,  Mr.  Gandhi,  with  refined 
courtesy,  spoke  of  the  unfriendly  censure  cast  upon  the  faiths  of 
India,  as  proceeding  from  an  "  un-Christian  spirit. "  There  is  an 
invisible,  intangible  ideal  that  appeals  to  the  generous  imagination 
as  the  "  Christian  spirit,"  but  we  must  confess  that  often  in  its  actual 
visible  form,  and  in  all  theological  comparisons,  it  is  the  spirit  shown 
by  Mr.  Pentecost.  It  is  incurable,  because  the  opinion  of  many 
Christians  is  that  Christ  is  gratified  by  flattery,  and  those  who  thus 
exalt  him,  think  they  escape  the  condemnation  and  come  within  the 
blessing  of  the  promise,  "Whosoever,  therefore,  shall  confess  me 
before  men,  him  will  I  also  confess  before  my  Father  which  is  in 
heaven.  But  whosoever  shall  deny  me  before  men,  him  will  I  also 
deny  before  my  Father  which  is  in  heaven."  Professor  Wilkinson 


THE  PARLIAMENT  OF  RELIGIONS.  343 

was  frank  and  honest  when  he  declared  that  the  attitude  of  his  own 
religion  toward  every  other  is  one  of  "universal,  absolute,  eternal, 
and  unappeasable  hostility."  That  is  not  merely  a  sentiment ;  it  is 
history,  and  the  explanation  of  it  given  by  some  people  is  that  Chris- 
tianity in  the  Wilkinson  form  is  not  the  religion  of  Christ. 

Several  of  the  delegates  presented  essays  on  "The  Personality 
of  God,"  and  in  this  discussion  the  Christians  had  the  best  of  it, 
because  they  exhibited  God  as  an  exaggerated  man,  a  concrete  per- 
sonality, a  giant  omnipotent,  easy  to  comprehend  even  by  the  men 
who  lived  in  the  lower  Silurian  age  of  learning.  Professor  Valen- 
tine, a  Lutheran,  said  : 

"In  Christian  teaching,  God  is  a  personal  being,  with  all  the  attributes  or 
predicates  that  enter  into  the  concept  of  such  a  being.  In  the  Christian  Scriptures 
of  the  Old  and  New  Testaments  this  conception  is  never  for  a  moment  lowered  or 
obscured.  God,  though  immanent  in  nature,  filling  it  with  his  presence  and  power, 
is  yet  its  Creator  and  Preserver,  keeping  it  subject  to  his  will  and  purposes,  never 
confounded  or  identified  with  it.  He  is  the  infinite,  absolute  personality." 

It  may  be,  that  in  the  Scriptures  "this  conception  of  God  is 
never  lowered,"  for  it  is  not  easy  to  lower  it,  unless  we  make  a  "con- 
cept "  of  God  lower  in  rank  than  man.  Even  in  the  Scriptures  this 
conception  of  God,  though  never  lowered,  is  very  often  raised ;  and 
outside  the  Scriptures,  too,  it  is  raised  by  all  enlightened  men  to 
moral  and  philosophical  heights  where  idolatries  never  fly.  Even 
the  Hindu  conception  of  God  raises  the  Deity  to  a  higher  plane 
than  the  convenient  shelf  within  easy  reach  where  Professor  Valen- 
tine puts  his  image.  Manital  Ni  Dvivedi,  of  Bombay,  said : 

' '  This  word  God  is  one  of  those  which  have  been  a  stumbling-block  to  philos- 
ophy. God,  in  the  sense  of  a  personal  creator  of  the  universe,  is  not  known  in  the 
Veda,  and  the  highest  effort  of  rationalistic  thought  in  India  has  been  to  see  God  in 
the  totality  of  all  that  is." 

The  childish  conception  of  Deity  which  prevailed  when  men 
first  became  afraid  of  God  is  thus  compassionately  treated  by  the 
Hindu. 

"  I  humbly  beg  to  differ  from  those  who  see  in  monotheism,  in  the  recognition 
of  a  personal  God  apart  from  nature,  the  acme  of  intellectual  development.  I  be- 
lieve that  is  only  a  kind  of  anthropomorphism  which  the  human  mind  stumbles 


344  THE  MONIST. 

upon  in  its  first  efforts  to  understand  the  unknown.  The  ultimate  satisfaction  of 
human  reason  and  emotion  lies  in  the  realisation  of  that  universal  essence  which  is 
the  all." 

As  might  have  been  expected  in  a  parliament  of  religions,  nearly 
all  the  delegates  who  spoke  on  that  subject  proclaimed  the  person- 
ality of  God,  although  the  form  and  quality  of  that  personality 
changed  like  the  shape  of  a  cloud.  It  varied  according  to  the  faith 
and  fancy  of  its  advocates.  Sometimes  it  was  a  sentiment,  a  hope, 
an  intuition,  and  at  other  times  a  demonstrated  fact.  It  appeared 
as  a  natural  instinct,  and  also  as  a  supernatural  revelation.  In  one 
address  it  was  a  spiritual  perception,  and  in  another  an  intellectual 
result.  Some  thought  that  God  was  omnipotent,  while  others  be- 
lieved that  he  was  bound  by  the  impossible,  like  any  mortal  man. 
Amid  the  differences,  there  was  a  strong  opinion  that  reason  was 
not  at  all  to  be  trusted  in  the  search  for  God.  The  Rev.  A.  F. 
Hewitt,  of  the  Paulist  Fathers,  made  a  very  learned,  eloquent,  and 
ingenious  attempt  to  place  the  personality  of  God  on  a  scientific  and 
logical  foundation,  and  at  the  end  of  it  confessed  his  own  failure  by 
calling,  for  assistance,  on  the  supernatural.  He  said  : 

"It  is  the  highest  achievement  of  human  reason  to  bring  the  intellect  to  a 
knowledge  of  God  as  the  first  and  final  cause  of  the  world.  The  denial  of  this 
philosophy  throws  all  things  into  night  and  chaos,  ruled  over  by  blind  chance  or 
fate.  Philosophy,  however,  by  itself  does  not  suffice  to  give  to  mankind  that  reli- 
gion, the  excellence  and  necessity  of  which  it  so  brilliantly  manifests.  Its  last  les- 
son is  the  need  of  a  divine  revelation,  a  divine  religion,  to  lead  men  to  a  knowledge 
and  love  of  God." 

Supporting  the  argument  of  Father  Hewitt,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Mo- 
merie  rejected  the  "accident"  theory  and  asserted  that,  "if  the 
world  is  not  due  to  purpose,  it  must  be  the  result  of  chance";  but 
he  soon  broke  away  from  his  theology  into  the  open  fields  of  nature, 
where,  according  to  Dr.  Momerie,  even  God  must  obey  the  law. 
He  said  : 

1 '  When  we  say  that  God  cannot  do  wrong,  we  virtually  admit  that  he  is  under 
a  moral  obligation  or  necessity,  and  reflexion  will  show  that  there  is  another  kind 
of  necessity,  viz.,  mathematical,  by  which  even  the  infinite  is  bound." 

All  these  bewildering  guesses  bring  to  mind  the  despair  of  the 
prophet  when,  lost  in  the  labyrinths  of  the  puzzle,  he  exclaimed  : 


THE  PARLIAMENT  OF  RELIGIONS.  345 

"Who  by  searching  can  find  out  God?"  Hard  as  the  problem  is, 
there  are  men  who  think  they  have  discovered  him  in  the  infallible 
almanac,  where  it  foretells,  with  scientific  faith,  the  time  of  the 
eclipses,  the  rising  and  the  setting  of  the  sun,  and  the  ebbing  and 
flowing  of  the  tides ;  while  others  think  they  have  discovered  him  in 
supernatural  revelations,  although  no  two  of  their  conceptions  are 
alike.  Jinanji  Jamshedji  Modi,  a  disciple  of  Zoroaster,  said  :  "  Evi- 
dence from  nature  is  the  surest  evidence  that  leads  a  Parsee  to  a 
belief  in  the  existence  of  the  Deity.  From  Nature  he  is  led  to  Na- 
ture's God";  but  Dr.  Isaac  M.  Wise,  a  Jewish  rabbi,  said:  "All 
knowledge  of  God  and  his  attributes  comes  to  man  by  successive 
revelations,  of  the  indirect  kind  first,  which  we  call  natural  revela- 
tion, and  the  direct  kind  afterwards,  which  we  call  transcendental 
revelation."  He  did  not  explain  the  necessity  for  two  revelations, 
and  Horin  Toki,  a  Buddhist  bishop,  denied  them  both.  He  looked 
upon  the  natural  and  the  transcendental  revelations  of  God  as  alike 
the  creations  of  spiritual  hasheesh,  and  he  said  :  "We  trust  in  the 
unity  of  truth  and  do  not  believe  in  the  Creator  fancied  out  by  the 
imperfect  brain  of  human  beings."  This  was  a  discord  in  the  Par- 
liament, but  it  was  neither  harsh  nor  loud,  and  it  was  rather  a  con- 
cession to  the  doctrine  that  the  "imperfect  brain"  of  man  is  not  at 
all  to  be  trusted  as  a  theological  guide.  With  a  different  purpose 
the  same  thought  was  used  by  the  Rev.  S.  J.  Niccolls,  of  St.  Louis, 
who  believed  that  the  Creator  could  not  be  "fancied  out"  by  any 
human  brain,  but  was  manifested  through  the  power  of  religious 
feeling ;  and  as  to  the  question  of  God's  personality,  he  said  : 

"We  cannot  bring  to  its  contemplation  the  exercise  of  our  reasoning  faculties 
in  the  same  way  that  we  would  consider  some  phenomenon  or  fact  of  history.  He 
who  is  greater  than  all  hides  himself  from  the  proud  and  self-sufficient  ;  he  reveals 
himself  to  the  meek,  lowly,  and  humble  of  heart.  It  is  rather  with  the  heart  that 
we  shall  find  him,  than  by  pursuing  him  merely  with  our  feeble  intellects.  To-day, 
as  always,  the  heart  will  make  the  theologian." 

This  was  the  key-note  of  despair,  the  knell  of  the  debate,  for 
ecclesiastics  of  high  rank  had  been  trying  for  many  days  to  convince 
the  "reasoning  faculties"  that  God  is  a  personality  ;  and  then  comes 
a  Presbyterian  Doctor  of  Divinity,  and  tells  them  that  it  is  useless 


346 


THE  MONIST. 


to  address  the  reason,  for  "to-day,  as  always,  the  heart  will  make 
the  theologian."  The  brain  is  dangerous,  for  logic  lies  there,  and 
thinking-machines  in  the  front  of  it  make  heretics,  while  the  heart 
makes  theologians.  The  argument  is  that  men  who  exercise  their 
minds,  and  make  themselves  intelligent,  thereby  become  "proud  and 
self-sufficient,  "and  that  God  "hides  himself"  from  them.  But  why 
should  God  hide  himself  at  all?  And  why  should  the  "reasoning 
faculties"  of  men  be  a  terror  to  theologians? 

The  dual  theology  of  old  was  practically  abandoned  by  the  Par- 
liament, for  the  Devil  was  treated  as  a  myth  vanishing  away.  This 
was  evidence  of  a  radical  change,  for  it  is  not  long  since  men  be- 
lieved in  a  personal  Devil  as  religiously  as  they  now  believe  in  a 
personal  God,  and  in  England,  the  Devil,  was  a  personality  "estab- 
lished by  law."  In  all  indictments  it  was  charged  that  the  defend- 
ant, "not  having  the  fear  of  God  before  his  eyes,  but  being  moved 
and  instigated  by  the  Devil,"  did  commit  the  crime  of  which  he  was 
accused  ;  and  he  who  doubted  the  existence  of  the  Devil  was  anath- 
ema. True,  as  the  "evil  principle"  or  something  of  that  sort,  the 
arch-fiend  occasionally  walked  across  the  platform  like  the  ghost  of 
Hamlet's  father,  but  he  received  scant  welcome,  and  soon  faded  into 
chaos.  In  fact  he  is  Chaos  now,  according  to  the  "revised  version  " 
as  it  was  expressed  by  Mr.  W.  T.  Harris,  United  States  Commissioner 
of  Education,  who  said  :  "God  only  is  an  absolute  person.  His 
pure  not-me  is  chaos,  but  not  a  personal  Devil."  This  made  it  neces- 
sary for  Mr.  Harris  to  revise  the  venerable  dogma  that  the  atonement 
was  the  payment  of  a  debt  due  the  Devil,  and  he  presented  what  he 
called  "a  new  theory  of  the  death  of  Christ  as  a  satisfaction,  not  of 
the  claims  of  the  Devil,  but  as  a  satisfaction  of  the  claims  of  God's 
justice  for  sin."  The  revision  presented  by  the  Commissioner  of 
Education  was  well  received,  and  one  of  the  delegates  remarked  that 
the  new  theory  was  "more  rational"  than  the  old  one.  Although 
the  existence  of  the  Devil  was  denied,  a  suspicion  prevailed  that  he 
was  yet  alive,  and  that  he  was  not  in  the  ranks  of  the  "unemployed," 
for  Jinanji  Jamshedji  Modi,  the  Parsee,  said  :  ' '  The  Zoroastrian  idea 
of  the  Devil  and  of  the  infernal  kingdom  coincides  entirely  with  the 
Christian  doctrine.  The  Devil  is  a  murderer  and  the  father  of  lies, 


THE  PARLIAMENT  OF  RELIGIONS.  347 

according  to  both  the  Bible  and  the  Zend  Avesta. "  The  conclusion 
is  that  so  long  as  murder  and  lies  remain  the  Devil  is  alive  and  well. 

Satan,  as  a  personality,  having  been  dismissed  from  the  service, 
there  was  no  longer  any  religious  use  for  "the  infernal  kingdom," 
and  so  that  lurid  bit  of  ancient  orthodoxy  passed  from  the  real  to  the 
imaginary,  and  became  a  harmless  figure  of  speech,  a  metaphysical 
corner  of  the  conscience  where  lies  the  torment  of  the  soul.  Accord- 
ing to  the  Rev.  Charles  H.  Eaton  of  New  York,  "Hell  is  a  spiritual 
and  personal  fact  but  has  no  objective  existence";  and,  indeed,  some- 
thing like  that  was  the  explanation  of  Heaven.  It  was  purely  a  sub- 
jective revelation  and  a  spiritual  dream  ;  "  not  a  locality,"  they  said, 
"but  a  state  of  mind." 

The  Rev.  Joseph  Cook  of  Boston,  a  very  athletic  Doctor  of  Di- 
vinity, having  used  up  all  the  superlative  adjectives  of  excellence  to 
describe  the  Bible,  hurled  a  sneer  at  the  enlightened  Greeks,  and 
said  : 

1 '  I  take  up  the  books  of  Plato,  which  I  think  are  nearest  to  those  of  the  Bible 
and  press  those  clusters  of  grapes  and  there  is  an  odious  stench  of  polygamy  and 
slavery  in  the  resulting  juices." 

This  clamorous  comparison  blown  into  the  amphitheatre  as 
from  a  brass  trumpet,  like  the  challenge  of  Brian  De  Bois  Guilbert 
in  the  tournament  at  Ashby,  was  bold  in  its  defiance  of  the  Bible 
evidence,  but  it  retreats  into  silence  before  the  sorrowful  cry  of  a 
woman.  Mrs.  Fannie  Williams,  a  colored  woman,  and  therefore  an 
expert  witness,  said  : 

"Religion,  like  every  other  force  in  America,  was  first  used  as  an  instrument 
and  servant  of  slavery.  «A11  attempts  to  Christianise  the  negro  were  limited  by  the 
important  fact  that  he  was  property  of  a  valuable  and  peculiar  sort,  and  that  the 
property  value  must  not  be  disturbed,  even  if  his  soul  were  lost.  If  Christianity 
could  make  the  negro  docile,  domestic,  and  less  an  independent  and  fighting  savage, 
let  it  be  preached  to  that  extent  and  no  further." 

That  mournful  accusation  uttered  in  a  gentle  voice  rang  out  as 
when  the  cuirass  of  the  haughty  templar  was  hit  by  the  spear  of  the 
Disinherited  Knight,  and  a  sympathetic  vibration  came  back  to  the 
little  woman  from  the  heart  of  every  man  in  the  hall.  Further,  she 
said  : 


348  THE  MONIST. 

' '  Such  was  the  false,  pernicious,  and  demoralising  gospel  preached  to  the  Amer- 
can  slave  for  two  hundred  years.  But  bad  as  this  teaching  was  it  was  scarcely  so 
demoralising  as  the  Christian  ideals  held  up  for  the  negro's  emulation.  When  moth- 
ers saw  their  babes  sold  by  Christians  on  the  auction  block  in  order  to  raise  money 
to  send  missionaries  to  foreign  lands ;  when  black  Christians  saw  white  Christians 
openly  do  everything  forbidden  in  the  decalogue  ;  is  it  not  remarkable  if  such  peo- 
ple have  any  religious  sense  of  the  purities  of  Christianity  ?  '  Servants  obey  your 
masters '  was  preached  and  enforced  by  all  the  cruel  instrumentalities  of  slavery, 
and  by  its  influence  the  colored  people  were  made  the  most  valued  slaves  in  the 
world.  The  people  who  in  Africa  resisted  with  terrible  courage  all  invasions  of  the 
white  races,  became  through  Christianity  the  most  docile  and  defenseless  of  servants. " 

The  spirit,  broken  by  what  she  called  "the  slave  Bible,"  ap- 
pears to  have  been  inherited  by  Mrs.  Williams,  for  she  still  walks 
among  the  churches,  wondering  where  the  seats  for  the  colored 
Christians  are;  groping  in  the  Christian  temples  behind  the  "color 
line,"  in  search  of  that  "holy  communion  "  which  is  not  for  her,  nor 
for  her  people.  Her  soul,  scarred  by  the  lash  of  the  slave  driver, 
seeks  for  healing  and  recompense  at  the  altars  of  the  men  who  plied 
the  lash.  She  still  believes  in  the  "slave  Bible,"  and  worships  a 
Christian  ideality.  In  her  own  eloquent  way,  she  said  :  "  The  hope 
of  the  negro  and  other  dark  races  in  America  depends  upon  how  far 
the  white  Christians  can  assimilate  their  own  religion."  There  is 
pathos  in  that  hope,  for  at  the  bottom  of  it  is  despair.  If  the  white 
Christians  have  never  yet  been  able  to  assimilate  their  own  religion, 
what  reasonable  prospect  is  there  that  they  will  do  it  now? 

It  may  be  that  the  censure  of  Christianity  by  Christians  is  an 
argument  in  its  favor,  proving  that  it  is  able  to  stand  fire,  and  that 
it  has  within  itself  the  spirit  of  toleration  and  reform.  This  may 
explain  the  good-natured  mocking  and  scoffing  at  the  canonical  mys- 
teries by  some  "open  and  avowed"  Christians.  Here  is  a  specimen 
from  the  genial  humor  of  Dr.  Momerie  of  London  : 

"  Christ  taught  no  dogmas,  Christ  laid  down  no  system  of  ceremonialism.  And 
yet,  what  do  we  find  in  Christendom  ?  For  centuries  his  disciples  engaged  in  the 
fiercest  controversy  over  the  question,  'Whether  his  substance' — (whatever  that 
may  be — you  may  know,  I  don't)  — '  was  the  same  substance  of  the  Father  or  only 
similar.'  They  fought  like  tigers  over  the  definition  of  the  very  Prince  of  Peace. 
Later  on  Christendom  was  literally  rent  asunder  over  the  question  of  '  whether  the 
Holy  Ghost  proceeded  from  the  Father  to  the  Son '  (whatever  that  may  mean).  And 


THE  PARLIAMENT  OF  RELIGIONS.  34Q 

my  own  church,  the  Church  of  England,  has  been,  and  still  is  in  danger  of  disrup- 
tion from  the  question  of  vestments — and  clothes." 

That  sarcasm  is  comical  enough  but  in  all  religions  that  appeal 
to  the  imagination  and  the  emotions,  vestments  and  clothes  perform 
an  impressive  and  awe-inspiring  part.  In  Ireland  the  peasants  think 
they  give  additional  solemnity  to  their  statements  when  they  swear 
"by  the  holy  vestments,"  and  this  proves  that  the  emblematic  mean- 
ings of  surplice  and  gown,  cope  and  stole,  mitre  and  cowl,  are  essen- 
tial parts  of  ceremonial  religions  ;  they  ornament  the  ritual  itself  ; 
they  hypnotise  the  congregations  by  tinselled  robes  embroidered 
with  cabalistic  signs,  and  they  make  adoration  fervent  through  spir- 
itual fear.  Dr.  Momerie  may  not  know  it,  but  it  is  not  impossible 
that  their  secret  spell  is  part  of  the  fascination  that  keeps  him  in 
the  Church  of  England. 

Dr.  Brodbeck,  of  Hannover,  Germany,  had  a  new  religion  fresh 
from  the  mint  of  his  own  imagination,  and  he  called  it  "  Idealism." 
After  it  had  been  explained  by  the  help  of  many  negations,  it  proved 
to  be  a  bright  and  airy  nothing,  as  easy  to  grasp  as  a  rainbow.  It 
was  not  a  religion,  but  a  retreat  from  fill  religions,  a  flight  in  a  bal- 
loon to  the  clouds.  It  was  even  sceptical  of  science,  and  had  some 
doubts  about  the  canons  of  geometry.  In  comprehensive  denials 
Dr.  Brodbeck  said  : 

"  The  new  religion  is  not  a  philosophical  system  of  any  kind.  It  is  not  atheism, 
not  pantheism,  not  theism,  not  deism,  not  materialism,  not  spiritualism,  not  natu- 
ralism, not  realism,  not  mysticism,  not  freemasonry  ;  nor  is  it  any  form  of  so-called 
philosophical  idealism.  It  is  not  rationalism,  and  not  supernaturalism  ;  also  not 
scepticism,  or  agnosticism.  It  is  not  optimism,  and  not  pessimism  ;  also  not  stoic- 
ism, nor  epicureanism  ;  nor  is  it  any  combination  of  these  philosophical  doctrines. 
It  is  also  not  positivism,  and  not  Darwinism  or  evolutionism.  It  is  also  not  moral- 
ism,  and  is  also  not  synonymous  with  philanthropism  or  humanitarianism." 

From  all  those  denials  it  maybe  assumed  that  the  new  religion 
of  Dr.  Brodbeck  is  not  a  mountain,  or  a  valley,  or  a  lake,  or  a 
house,  or  a  ship,  or  a  load  of  hay.  It  is  the  ghost  of  the  indefinable 
"What  is  it,"  that  Mr.  Barnum  used  to  show,  and  it  is  harder  to 
catch  than  the  sea-serpent  of  delirium  tremens.  All  good  people 
are  eligible  for  membership  in  Dr.  Brodbeck's  church,  but  they  must 


350  THE  MONIST. 

not  be  too  good,  for  he  says  :  "We  are  not  in  favor  of  extremes  ; 
in  most  cases  virtue  is  the  middle  between  extremes."  This  religion 
ought  to  be  popular  as  a  sort  of  half-way  "split  the  difference" 
compromise  between  the  principles  of  good  and  evil,  between  the 
canons  of  right  and  wrong. 

The  original  founder  of  agnosticism  was  not  Professor  Huxley, 
but  poor  Jo,  the  crossing-sweeper,  who  "  never  knowed  nothink," 
and  although  Dr.  Brodbeck  repudiates  agnosticism,  he  must  belong 
to  the  sect  of  Jo,  for  he  says  :  "We  do  not  know  how  things  orig- 
inated, or  if  they  did  originate  at  all ;  so  we  do  not  know  what  will 
be  the  last  end  and  aim  of  everything  existing,  if  there  is  anything 
like  last  end  and  aim  at  all";  and  so  he  patronisingly  leaves  these 
and  kindred  problems,  especially  the  hard  ones,  to  "science."  "We 
do  not  know,"  says  Dr.  Brodbeck,  "  where  we  come  from  nor  where 
we  go.  We  do  not  believe  in  the  resurrection,  nor  in  the  immor- 
tality of  individuals,  and  so  we  leave  it  to  science  to  decide  how  far 
there  can  be  any  existence  after  death."  Dr.  Brodbeck  and  his  dis- 
ciples do  not  believe  in  heaven,  "because  astronomy  is  against  such 
a  belief  ";  nor  in  hell,  probably  for  geological  reasons ;  but,  he  says, 
"we  acknowledge  willingly  the  relative  truth  of  those  and  similar 
dogmas."  This  admission  at  once  invalidates  Dr.  Brodbeck's  patent 
on  a  new  religion.  Belief  in  the  absolute  error  and  the  relative  truth 
of  certain  dogmas  is  not  a  new  religion,  but  an  old  one.  The  new 
religion  that  is  coming  will  not  believe  in  the  relative  truth  of  any 
doctrine,  article,  code,  or  sacrament  that  is  positively  false. 

One  pleasant  feature  of  the  Parliament  was  the  high  character 
of  the  delegates,  their  learning,  their  eloquence,  their  hope  for  more 
truthful  creeds,  and  the  spirit  of  toleration  that  actuated  most  of 
them.  Their  courtesies  were  intentional,  and  as  the  essays  were  in- 
dependently written,  and  not  in  contradiction  of  one  another,  their 
disagreements  were  accidental,  resulting  from  differences  of  race, 
language,  education,  customs,  and  mental  constitution  ;  but  the  dis- 
cords were  inevitable,  because  the  religions  of  mankind  are,  from 
the  nature  of  their  separate  claims,  irreconcilable.  It  was  a  promise 
full  of  hope  to  all  mankind  when  priests,  presbyters,  and  bishops 
of  opposing  creeds  declared  that  they  would  never  again  be  so  in- 


THE  PARLIAMENT  OF  RELIGIONS.  351 

tensely  religious  as  to  hate  one  another  ;  and  the  personal  good  na- 
ture of  the  delegates,  excepting  two  or  three,  justified  the  boasting 
of  Dr.  Momerie  when  he  said:  "  And  here  on  this  platform  have 
sat  as  brethren  the  representatives  of  churches  and  sects  which  dur- 
ing by- gone  centuries  hated  and  cursed  one  another  ;  and  scarcely  a 
word  has  fallen  from  any  of  us  which  could  possibly  give  offence." 

Human  sympathy  is  catching  ;  it  is  liable  also  to  take  the  form 
of  an  epidemic  and  spread  far  beyond  the  boundaries  we  have  set 
for  its  operation.  When  the  representatives  of  churches  and  sects 
cease  to  hate  and  to  curse  one  another,  they  will  very  likely  cease 
to  hate  and  to  curse  poor  sinners,  and  that  unbelieving  multitude 
whose  "reasoning  faculties"  have  tempted  them  to  go  outside  of  all 
the  churches  and  all  the  sects  in  search  not  of  everlasting  life,  but 
of  eternal  truth,  without  which  all  religions  are  idolatries  and  ever- 
lasting life  itself  is  worthless.  If  the  Parliament  shall  make  love 
instead  of  hate  the  stimulus  of  religious  controversy,  its  influence 
for  good  will  far  exceed  the  educational  benefit  of  the  great  Fair  ; 
for  if  the  representatives  of  churches  and  sects  display  toleration 
and  charity,  the  congregations  will  catch  the  benevolence,  for  as  Dr. 
Momerie  himself  said  :  "  It  is  the  clergy  who  are  responsible  for  the 
bigotry  of  the  laity." 

The  climax,  or  anti-climax,  of  the  debate  appeared  on  the  last 
day  of  the  Parliament  in  the  speech  and  person  of  Christopher  Ji- 
barra,  "  Archimandite  of  the  Apostolic  and  Patriarchal  Throne  of 
the  Orthodox  Church  in  Syria  and  the  Whole  East."  The  religion 
of  the  Archimandite  was  as  broad  and  comprehensive  as  his  name 
and  title,  for  he  had  the  magnanimity  to  say,  "I  believe  that  God 
has  preserved  the  Koran,  and  also  preserved  Islam,  because  it  has 
come  to  correct  the  doctrines  and  dogmas  of  the  Christians."  This 
opinion  coming  from  a  Christian  prelate  of  high  rank  made  a  great 
sensation,  for  it  was  a  confession  that  Islam  instead  of  corrupting 
Christianity  had  reformed  it ;  but  the  right  reverend  confessor  went 
farther  than  that,  and  made  a  greater  sensation  when  he  proposed 
that  both  of  them  be  superseded  by  something  better  than  either, 
and  he  was  generously  willing  to  leave  the  making  of  this  new  reli- 
gion to  the  inventive  genius  of  the  Americans.  He  said  :  "As  Co- 


352  THE  MONIST. 

lumbus  discovered  America,  so  must  Americans  find  a  true  religion 
for  the  whole  world,  and  show  the  people  of  all  nations  a  new  reli- 
gion in  which  all  hearts  may  find  rest." 

The  greatest  sensation  of  all  was  in  reserve,  and  it  came  like 
sudden  thunder  when  the  Archimandite,  imitating  American  cus- 
toms, began  to  talk,  not  like  a  cloistered  abbot,  but  like  a  free  and 
enlightened  fellow-citizen.  As  if  he  had  been  trained  all  his  life  in 
American  politics  and  was  merely  taking  part  in  a  national  conven- 
tion, he  proposed  that  all  their  conflicting  theologies  be  referred  to 
a  committee  on  resolutions  with  instructions  to  report  a  platform  of 
principles  for  the  new  religion.  He  said  : 

' '  All  the  religions  now  in  this  general  and  religious  congress  are  parallel  to 
each  other  in  the  sight  of  the  world.  .  .  .  From  such  discussions  a  change  may  come, 
perhaps  even  doubts  about  all  religions.  .  .  .  Therefore,  I  think  that  a  committee 
should  be  selected  from  the  great  religions  to  investigate  the  dogmas  and  to  make  a 
full  and  certain  comparison  and  approving  the  true  one  and  announcing  it  to  the 
people." 

There  was  nothing  visionary  or  theoretical  in  that  proposal ;  it 
was  eminently  practical ;  but  unfortunately,  the  committee  was  not 
appointed,  the  great  opportunity  was  lost,  and  the  phantom  of  unity 
which  the  Parliament  had  been  chasing  for  three  weeks  disappeared. 

Although  the  unity  of  God  was  the  prevailing  sentiment  of  the 
Parliament,  the  dual  character  of  Holy  Writ  was  confidently  de- 
clared by  some  individual  delegates,  who  asserted  that  while  it  might 
be  scientifically  false  in  certain  places,  it  was  even  in  those  very 
errors  religiously  true.  Its  theological  accuracy  was  not  at  all  im- 
paired by  its  philosophical  mistakes,  and  the  Rev.  Dr.  Briggs,  fresh 
from  his  heresy  trial,  said  : 

"We  are  obliged  to  admit  that  there  are  scientific  errors  in  the  Bible,  errors 

of  astronomy,  geology,  zoology,  botany,   and  anthropology There  are  such 

errors  as  we  are  apt  to  find  in  modern  history.  .  .  .  But  none  of  the  nistakes  which 
have  been  discovered  disturb  the  religious  lessons  of  the  biblical  history." 

This  is  true  only  when  the  so-called  errors  are  in  parables,  or 
in  language  obviously  figurative  or  allegorical.  When  they  appear 
as  realities,  revealed  by  divinely  inspired  prophets  and  apostles, 
their  mistakes  do  seriously  "disturb  the  religious  lessons  "  they  pre- 


THE  PARLIAMENT  OF  RELIGIONS.  353 

tend  to  teach.  A  statement  which  is  historically  false  cannot  be 
divinely  inspired,  nor  can  it  be  religiously  true.  Do  those  doctors 
of  divinity,  who  so  devoutly  worship  God,  believe  that  he  ever  in- 
spired his  prophets  to  make  mistakes  in  astronomy,  in  geology,  in 
history,  or  in  anything?  And  do  they  believe  that  he  needs  any  such 
mistakes  to  aid  him  in  the  moral  government  of  the  world,  or  in  the 
religious  instruction  of  mankind?  Do  they  think  that  a  falsehood, 
as  soon  as  they  make  it  "scriptural,"  becomes  true?  There  never 
was  a  book  so  sacred  that  it  could  sanctify  a  lie.  All  truth  is  holy, 
whether  it  be  written  in  books,  or  stones,  or  stars ;  and  all  error  is 
unholy,  no  matter  in  what  scriptures  it  may  be. 

Dr.  Briggs  made  this  confession  from  the  platform  of  the  Par- 
liament:  "We  cannot  defend  the  morals  of  the  Old  Testament  at 
all  points."  If  so,  the  Testament  ought  to  be  revised,  and  all  those 
points  excluded  from  it  that  cannot  be  defended  ;  for  so  long  as 
they  remain  in  it  they  teach  false  theories  of  morals  to  multitudes 
of  men,  women,  and  children,  who  are  not  so  learned  as  Dr.  Briggs, 
who  accept  the  whole  of  the  Testament  as  true,  and  who  believe  it 
"at  all  points"  and  at  every  point  as  the  infallible  word  of  God. 
Morals  that  cannot  be  defended  ought  to  be  condemned.  It  is  not 
within  the  power  of- the  Sanhedrim,  or  the  Synod,  or  the  (Ecumenical 
Council  to  convert  bad  morals  into  good  religion,  or  to  make  Holy 
Scriptures  out  of  errors  in  astronomy,  geology,  zoology,  botany, 
history,  and  anthropology.  Whether  the  delegates  intended  it  or 
not,  that  was  the  lesson  of  the  Parliament. 

Some  of  the  delegates  gave  a  new  definition  to  the  word  "reli- 
gion," making  it  a  system  of  work  instead  of  worship,  of  practice 
instead  of  prayer.  Amid  signs  of  general  approval,  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Hirsch,  a  Jewish  Rabbi,  said,  "Character  and  conduct,  not  creed, 
will  be  the  keynote  of  the  gospel  in  the  church  universal."  Others 
expanded  the  word  until  it  became  large  enough  to  include  the  sci- 
ence of  mathematics  as  well  as  the  moral  code,  and  they  made  every 
truth  eligible  for  membership  in  the  new  communion,  and  every 
error  "cursed  and  excommunicate." 

The  Parliament  provided  a  sort  of  intellectual  crucible  in  which 
all  the  creeds  will  be  tested  and  purified  as  by  fire.  That  sectarians 


354  THE  MONIST. 

of  a  hundred  theologies  have  brought  them  to  the  furnace  is  a  sign 
of  social  progress,  and  a  promise  of  larger  toleration.  He  who  fears 
the  fire  has  no  faith,  for  whatsoever  is  true  in  his  religion  will  come 
out  of  the  furnace  as  pure  metal,  leaving  the  dross  to  be  thrown 
away. 

M.  M.  TRUMBULL. 
CHICAGO. 


MODERN  PHYSIOLOGY. 

TF  we  define  physiology  in  broad  terms  as  the  science  of  the  phe- 
*~  nomena  of  life,  and  characterise  as  its  object  the  investigation 
of  the  phenomena  of  life,  physiology  is  a  very  old  science  ;  as 
old,  indeed,  as  human  reflexion  on  any  of  the  processes  of  nature. 
But  the  character  of  physiological  thought  has  undergone  in  the 
course  of  the  development  of  the  human  mind  such  manifold  and 
profound  changes  that  physiology  has  exhibited  in  different  periods 
quite  different  aspects.  So  that  for  a  critical  judgment  of  the  pres- 
ent state  of  the  science  a  retrospect  of  certain  phases  of  its  past  his- 
tory, is  very  important. 

THE  EARLY  VITALISM. 

In  the  sixteenth  century,  after  the  long  intellectual  night  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  a  sweet,  refreshing  zephyr  proclaimed  the  dawn  of  a 
new  era  for  all  fields  of  human  thought, — for  art  and  philosophy, 
for  science  and  medicine.  Physiology  did  not  lag  behind  in  the 
new  development.  The  exact  method  of  natural  inquiry,  founded 
by  men  like  Copernicus,  Kepler,  Galileo,  Bacon,  and  Descartes, 
was,  by  Harvey's  classical  investigations  on  the  circulation  of  the 
blood,  also  introduced  into  physiology,  which  at  that  time  was  still 
based  on  the  old  system  of  Galen.  How  greatly  the  rise  of  the  ex- 
act critical  method  of  inquiry  promoted  and  stimulated  the  further 
development  of  physiology  is  best  seen  by  the  powerful  growth  of  the 
two  great  schools  of  the  seventeenth  century,  the  iatro  mechanical 
(iatro-physical,  iatro- mathematical)  and  the  iatro-chemical,  the  first 
of  which,  founded  by  the  brilliant  Borelli,  sought  to  explain  the  phe- 


356  THE  MONIST. 

nomena  of  life  by  the  principles  of  physics,  while  the  latter,  founded 
by  Sylvius,  more  especially  employed  the  laws  of  chemistry  for  the 
explanation  of  the  vital  processes.  Physiology  was  thus  transformed 
into  a  physics  and  chemistry  of  the  human  body,  an  enormous  num- 
ber of  physiological  facts  were  disclosed,  numerous  theories  were 
promulgated,  and  in  the  year  1757  Haller  was  able,  on  the  basis  of 
a  stupendous  mass  of  material,  to  give  to  the  scientific  world  for  the 
first  time,  in  his  "  Elementa  Physiologiae  Corporis  Humani,"  a  large 
compendium  of  physiology. 

But  the  hopes  of  the  iatro-mechanical  and  iatro-chemical  schools 
to  explain  all  phenomena  of  life  by  the  principles  of  physics  and 
chemistry  fell  far  short  of  realisation.  Since  the  establishment  and 
development  by  Glisson,  Haller,  John  Brown,  and  others,  of  the  doc- 
trine of  irritability,  this  latter  property  was  recognised  as  a  quite 
universal  attribute  of  living  organisms,  as  distinguished  from  inor- 
ganic bodies  ;  physicians  thought  beyond  a  doubt  that  they  saw  in 
irritability  the  essence  of  life.  But  what  was  irritability  ?  Here 
was  something  that  did  not  admit  of  immediate  physical  or  chemical 
explanation. 

Perhaps  it  was  lingering  traces  of  the  animism  of  Stahl,  still  fresh 
in  the  minds  of  scientists,  or  perhaps  reminiscences  of  the  mediaeval 
notions  of  nvsv^a,  dvrctfAis,  spiritus,  and  so  forth,  outgrowths  of  the 
doctrines  of  the  ancient  pneumatic  physicians,  that  in  the  face  of 
the  difficulties  of  explaining  mechanically  the  nature  of  the  phenom- 
ena of  life  matured  a  doctrine  which  was  subsequently  to  be  of  far- 
reaching  consequence  in  physiology.  Namely,  the  theory  of  vitalism. 

The  argument  which  forms  the  basis  and  gist  of  the  theory  of 
vitalism  is  as  follows  :  since  the  processes  of  life  do  not  admit  of  ex- 
planation by  physical  and  chemical  forces,  there  must  be  active  in 
living  organisms  some  other  force  which  produces  the  phenomena 
of  life,  a  force  of  a  different  kind  from  that  which  physics  and  chem- 
istry take  cognisance  of,  a  vital  force,  vis  vitalis,  Lebenskraft,  force 
hypermechanique. 

The  defect  of  this  reasoning  is  manifest.  All  proof  of  the  cor- 
rectness of  the  minor  premise  is  wanting.  For,  if  hitherto  and  with 
methods  which  now  exist,  certain  vital  processes  have  not  been  re- 


MODERN  PHYSIOLOGY.  357 

duced  to  physical  and  chemical  causes,  it  follows  by  no  means  from 
this  fact  that  in  a  last  analysis  they  may  not  be  conditioned  by  chem- 
ical and  physical  causes,  or  that  in  the  future  they  will  not  be  reduced 
to  such.  Vitalism,  therefore,  is  simply  a  dogma  of  convenience. 

Vitalistic  ideas  first  appeared  in  the  French  schools  of  medicine, 
especially  at  Montpellier.  In  the  track  of  the  latter  followed  the 
German  school  of  vitalism,  whose  founder  was  Reil.  With  most  of 
the  vitalists  the  vital  force  was  thoroughly  mystical,  and  never  re- 
ceived a  precise  definition.  In  this  fact  its  great  convenience  lay. 
Men  spoke  of  a  nisus  formativus  when  they  wished  to  explain  why 
from  the  egg  of  a  snake  always  a  snake  was  developed,  and  from 
the  egg  of  a  bird  always  a  bird.  In  some  few  exceptional  cases 
though,  by  clear-headed  thinkers,  who  would  not  rest  satisfied  with 
a  hazy  word,  the  idea  actually  was  more  precisely  defined,  but  in 
such  cases  it  almost  always  turned  out  that  the  essential  principle  of 
vitalism  was  sacrificed. 

Johannes  Miiller,  the  greatest  physiologist  that  the  history  of 
our  science  has  produced,  was  a  vitalist.  He  reckoned  with  a  vital 
force.  But  in  so  clear  a  mind  as  Johannes  Miiller's,  the  idea  of  vital 
force  could  not  preserve  the  slightest  tinge  of  mysticism.  To  him, 
vital  force  was  simply  a  peculiar,  characteristic  complex  of  the  spe- 
cial factors  which  are  realised  in  living  bodies  and  form  the  basis 
of  their  expressions  of  life,  but  not  an  entity  that  worked  in  a  man- 
ner opposed  to  chemical  and  physical  laws.  Subsequently,  indeed, 
the  term  vital  force  was  used  in  different  senses,  and  even  in  Jo- 
hannes Miiller's  time  it  no  longer  possessed  a  uniform  significance, 
although  it  was  then  deeply  rooted  in  physiological  thought.  Still, 
the  unclear  notion  of  a  vital  force  was  not  definitively  dispelled  until 
the  epoch  of  the  great  achievements  of  modern  natural  research,  of 
comparative  anatomy  and  of  evolution,  of  the  theory  of  descent  and 
natural  selection,  of  the  investigations  of  chemical  physiology,  and 
above  all,  of  the  discovery  of  the  law  of  the  conservation  of  energy  ; 
and  with  the  dissipation  of  this  notion,  the  theory  of  vitalism  was 
overcome. 


358  THE  MONIST. 


THE  PRESENT  STATE  OF  PHYSIOLOGICAL  RESEARCH. 

Psychologically,  it  is  a  highly  interesting  phenomenon,  and  one 
of  moment  in  the  history  of  science,  that  now,  almost  immediately 
after  the  final  suppression  of  the  old  vitalism  by  the  new  develop- 
ment of  the  natural  sciences,  we  have  again  arrived  at  a  point  which 
corresponds  in  the  minutest  details  to  the  reversion  to  mystical  vital- 
ism which  took  place  after  the  clear  and  successful  research  of  the 
preceding  century.  As  a  fact,  the  parallel  between  the  conditions 
of  the  eighteenth  century  and  those  of  to-day  is  unmistakable.  Now, 
as  then,  the  physico-chemical  method  of  explaining  phenomena 
of  life  looks  back  on  a  brilliant,  almost  dazzling  sequence  of  suc- 
cesses ;  now,  as  then,  the  tracing  of  vital  processes  to  physical  and 
chemical  laws  has  reached  a  point  at  which,  for  many  years,  with 
the  methods  now  at  our  command,  no  essential  progress  has  been 
made,  where,  on  the  paths  hitherto  trodden,  a  boundary  line  is 
everywhere  distinctly  marked  ;  and  now,  as  then,  on  the  horizon  of 
science  the  ghost  of  a  vital  force  looms  up.  It  has  already  taken 
possession  of  the  minds  of  serious  thinkers  in  Germany,  with  the 
dire  prospect  of  more  extensive  conquests ;  and  in  France,  too,  it 
would  seem,  science  is  slowly  opening  its  door  to  this  invasion  of 
genuine  mysticism. 

To  understand  this  phenomenon  psychologically,  and  to  ac- 
quaint ourselves  with  the  means  of  staving  off  a  general  reaction  into 
vitalism,  it  is  desirable  to  examine  more  carefully  the  present  state 
of  physiology.  A  review  of  the  productions  which  appear  in  our 
different  physiological  journals,  which  will  best  exhibit  the  pres- 
ent state  and  tendency  of  the  science,  furnishes  an  extremely  re- 
markable spectacle.  Leaving  aside  the  science  of  physiological 
chemistry,  which  is  independently  developing  with  great  success, 
we  find,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  good  contributions  to  the  phys- 
iology of  the  central  nervous  system,  as  a  rule,  only  extremely  spe- 
cial performances  of  very  limited  scope  and  import,  wholly  without 
significance  for  the  greater  problems  of  physiology,  whether  practi- 


MODERN  PHYSIOLOGY.  359 

cal  or  theoretical,  and  exhibiting  no  connexion  whatever  with  any 
well-defined  general  problem  of  physiology.  In  fact,  what  is  called 
physiology  is  beginning  here  and  there  to  degenerate  into  mere 
technical  child's  play.  With  every  new  number  of  our  physiolog- 
ical magazines,  the  unprejudiced  observer  is  gradually  gaining  the 
conviction  that  general  problems  of  physiology  no  longer  exist,  but 
that  inquirers,  driven  to  desperation  in  the  struggle  for  material, 
have  no  choice  but  to  hunt  up  the  old  dry  bones  of  science,  on  which 
they  fall  with  the  nervous  rapacity  of  hungry  dogs.  And  in  the  case 
of  most  of  the  productions,  this  impression  is  strengthened  by  the 
fact  that  the  results,  when  once  found,  are  wholly  disproportionate 
to  the  tremendous  expenditure  of  labor  and  time  which  it  might  be 
seen  beforehand  they  would  require.  And  yet  all  the  time  the  great 
problems  of  physiology  everywhere  stare  us  in  the  face  and  seek 
solution.  For,  if  we  regard  the  problem  of  physiology  as  the  in- 
vestigation of  the  phenomena  of  life,  we  are  certainly  yet  very  far 
from  the  solution  of  even  its  most  important  and  most  general  prob- 
lems. We  need  not  go  to  the  extreme  that  Bunge  does  in  his  ex- 
cellent text-book  of  physiological  chemistry,  of  maintaining  that  the 
phenomena  of  our  organism  which  we  have  explained  mechanically 
are  not  genuine  vital  processes  at  all,  no  more  than  is  ''the  motion 
of  the  leaves  and  branches  of  a  tree  shaken  by  a  storm,  or  the  mo- 
tion of  the  pollen  which  the  wind  wafts  from  the  male  to  the  female 
poplar."  But  it  is  certainly  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  what  the 
splendidly- conceived  methods  of  the  great  masters  of  physiology 
since  Johannes  Muller  have  explained,  are  not  elementary  processes 
of  life,  but  almost  exclusively  the  crude  physical  and  chemical  ac- 
tions of  the  human  body. 

For  what  have  we  attained?  We  have  measured  and  registered 
the  motions  of  respiration,  the  mechanics  of  the  gaseous  exchange  in 
the  lungs  in  their  minutest  details.  We  know  the  motions  of  the 
heart,  the  circulation  of  the  blood  in  the  vascular  system,  nay,  even 
the  slightest  variations  of  the  pressure  of  the  blood,  as  produced  by 
the  most  diverse  causes,  as  accurately  as  we  do  the  phenomena  of 
hydrodynamics  in  physics.  We  know  that  respiration  and  the  mo- 
tion of  the  heart  are  conditioned  by  the  automatic  activity  of  ner- 


360  THE  MONIST. 

vous  centres  in  the  brain.  But  no  spirometer,  no  kymograph,  no 
measuring  or  registering  apparatus  can  give  us  the  slightest  idea  of 
what  takes  place  in  the  nerve-cells  of  the  brain  that  condition  the 
beating  of  the  heart  and  respiration. 

Further,  we  have  investigated  the  motions  of  the  muscles,  their 
dependence  on  the  most  diverse  factors,  their  mechanical  powers, 
their  production  of  heat  and  electricity,  as  exhaustively  as  only  the 
phenomena  of  the  special  departments  of  mechanical  physics  have 
hitherto  been  treated.  But  of  what  goes  forward  in  the  minute 
muscle-cells  during  simple  muscular  contraction,  no  myograph,  no 
galvanometer  has  as  yet  given  us  the  slightest  hint. 

We  know  also  the  laws  of  the  excitability  of  the  nervous  fibres, 
of  the  propagation  of  irritations,  of  the  direction  and  velocity  of 
nervous  transmission,  thanks  to  the  ingenious  methods  of  recent  phys- 
iology, in  all  their  details.  But  of  what  is  enacted  during  these  pro- 
cesses in  the  nerve-fibres  and  in  the  ganglion-cell  from  which  it 
ramifies,  no  induction-apparatus  or  multiplicator  can  give  us  the 
least  information. 

We  know  besides,  that  the  heat  and  electricity  produced  by  the 
body,  and  the  mechanical  energy  of  muscular  work,  are  the  conse- 
quence of  the  transformation  of  the  chemical  energy  which  we  have 
taken  into  our  bodies  with  our  food.  But  by  means  of  what  chem- 
ical processes  the  cells  of  the  individual  structures  take  part  in  these 
achievements,  the  most  sensitive  thermometer  or  calorimeter  will 
not  disclose,  and  no  thermal  pile  or  graphical  apparatus  will  indi- 
cate. 

We  might  give  any  number  of  examples  of  this  kind  but  those 
adduced  exhibit  distinctly  enough  the  point  to  be  signalised.  What 
we  have  hitherto  attained  is  this :  we  have  measured,  weighed,  de- 
scribed, and  registered  the  gross  mechanical  actions  of  the  human 
body,  for  the  most  part  with  a  degree  of  precision  that  would  excite 
the  astonishment  of  the  uninitiated ;  we  have  also  acquired  a  con- 
siderable knowledge  of  the  rough  mechanical  interactions  of  the  in- 
dividual organs  of  the  body,  the  mode  of  operation,  so  to  speak,  of 
the  machinery  of  organisms.  But  all  that  has  been  done,  has  been 
done  only  up  to  a  certain  point ;  and  this  point,  at  which  we  are 


MODERN  PHYSIOLOGY.  361 

brought  to  a  halt,  is  the  cell.  We  have  traced  all  phenomena  of 
change  in  matter,  form,  and  force  back  to  the  point  where  they  dis- 
appear in  the  cell.  But  of  what  takes  place  in  the  muscle  cell,  the 
ganglion-cell,  the  lymph-cell,  the  gland-cell,  the  egg-cell,  the  sense- 
cell,  and  so  forth,  we  have  not  the  slightest  conception.  Moreover, 
we  discover  here,  that  even  the  minutest  cell  exhibits  all  the  elemen- 
tary phenomena  of  life  ;  that  it  breathes  and  takes  nourishment ; 
that  it  grows  and  propagates  itself  ;  that  it  moves  and  reacts  against 
stimuli.  The  elementary  riddles  of  life,  accordingly,  have  so  far  de- 
fied all  research. 

A  balance  thus  cast  of  the  results  of  past  physiological  research 
does  not,  it  must  be  admitted,  exhibit  a  very  encouraging  outlook. 

But  the  resignation  of  physiology  has  been  strengthened  by  an- 
other prominent  factor.  This  is  the  attitude  of  physiological  re- 
search to  psychical  phenomena.  This  attitude  is  at  the  present 
moment  a  varying  one.  On  the  one  hand,  we  still  find  secretly  cher- 
ished the  vain  hope  of  a  chemical  and  physical  explanation  of  psy- 
chical processes,  that  is  to  say,  of  a  reduction  of  them  to  the  mo- 
tions of  atoms,  even  though  Du  Bois-Reymond,  in  his  famous  address 
on  "The  Limits  of  Our  Knowledge  of  Nature,"*  characterised  such 
an  undertaking  as  utterly  futile  ;  while  on  the  other  hand  we  meet 
with  an  absolute  resignation  in  the  face  of  this  question — an  attitude 
which  is  simply  a  frank  acceptation  of  the  conclusion  of  Du  Bois- 
Reymond's  address.  Owing  to  the  authority  of  its  author,  the  "  Ig- 
norabimus  "  of  Du  Bois-Reymond  has  influenced  great  numbers  of 
inquirers  and  produced  in  physiology  a  real  paralysis  of  research,  so 
that  the  abandonment  thus  effected  of  the  solution  of  the  old  prob- 
lem of  explaining  psychical  phenomena  mechanically  has  caused 
physiology  for  the  most  part  anxiously  and  reverently  to  avoid  any 
intrusion  whatever  of  psychological  questions.  On  the  one  side, 
then,  is  the  idle  hope  of  solving  a  problem  which  despite  its  being 
as  old  as  human  thought  itself,  research  has  not  yet  even  touched  ; 
and  on  the  other,  an  absolute  renunciation  of  any  treatment  of  the 
problem  whatsoever. 

*  Ueber  die  Grenzen  des  Natitrerkennens.    Reden.    Erste  Folge.     Leipsic.     1886. 


362  THE  MONIST. 


THE  NEW  VITALISM. 

Exactly  as  happened  in  the  preceding  century,  we  have  again 
arrived,  after  a  long  period  of  the  most  successful  conquests  in  sci- 
ence, at  a  point  where  a  barrier  is  placed  to  the  methods  hitherto 
pursued,  and  at  which  research  has  for  a  long  time  stood  still  with- 
out overleaping  it.  Again,  as  in  the  preceding  century,  we  have 
psychologically  the  same  constellation,  and  already  the  first  signs 
are  beginning  to  show  themselves  of  a  tendency  of  science  to  seek  a 
second  time  its  salvation  in  a  theory  of  vitalism.  Already  voices  are 
multiplying  which  proclaim  that  the  phenomena  of  life  will  never  be 
fully  explained,  while  a  few  decades  ago  the  confidence  of  success- 
fully investigating  all  vital  processes  was  without  exception  a  uni- 
versal one.  As  a  fact,  the  same  vitalistic  ideas  have  already  been 
promulgated  by  eminent  natural  inquirers,  as  were  set  forth  by  the 
vitalists  of  the  early  period. 

The  botanist  Hanstein*  has  given  unequivocal  utterance  to 
such  ideas.  Starting  from  the  fact  that  the  organs  of  animals  and 
plants  show  a  definite. conformation  according  to  the  species  from 
which  they  are  descended,  Hanstein  arrives  at  the  conclusion  that 
there  is  inherent  in  living  organisms  some  special  formative  power 
(Eigengestaltungskraff),  which  has  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the 
forces  of  inorganic  nature.  "  As  long  as  it  is  a  correct  principle  of 
science,"  says  Hanstein,  "  that  there  must  be  different  causes  where 
there  are  different  effects,  it  cannot  be  legitimately  maintained  that 
the  formative  processes  of  organisms  which  are  seen  constantly 
to  strive  towards  some  predetermined  end  are  nothing  but  the  com- 
bined effects  of  forces  inherent  in  atoms  and  active  as  rays  or  vi- 
brations." In  this  "special  formative  power"  of  Hanstein  we  recog- 
nise at  once,  and  in  unmodified  form,  the  nisus  formativus  of  the  vital- 
ists. True,  Hanstein  admits  that  physical  and  chemical  forces,  such 
as  act  in  lifeless  bodies,  also  come  into  play  by  way  of  supplement  to 

*  Hanstein.      Das    Protoplasma    als    Trdger   der  pflanzlichen    und   thierischen 
LebensverricJitungen.      Heidelberg.      1880. 


MODERN  PHYSIOLOGY.  363 

the  special  formative  forces  of  living  organisms,  but  specific  phenom- 
ena of  life  he  refers  exclusively  to  special  formative  powers.  Also 
he  sees  the  activity  of  these  forces  in  the  phenomena  of  the  helio- 
tropism  of  plants,  of  the  geotropism  of  the  roots  and  trunks  of  trees, 
of  the  chemotropism  of  zoospores,  and  generally  in  all  phenomena 
of  irritation,  while  the  same  force  is  also  discerned  by  him  in  what 
the  zoology  of  earlier  times  called  instinct.  Indeed  it  is  a  remarkable 
sign  that  Hanstein  at  this  late  day  conceives  instinct  as  a  force  in 
the  same  sense  as  physical  forces  are  conceived,  that  is,  as  the  cause 
of  motions.  Yet  Hanstein  regards  this  assumption  not  only  as  neces- 
sary but  also  as  highly  useful.  "It  must  be  maintained  in  the 
face  of  all  objections,  that  this  hypothesis  is  for  the  time  being 
the  simplest ;  that  if  it  does  not  exactly  explain  the  majority  of  the 
observed  phenomena  of  life  it  yet  puts  them  under  a  monistic  (!) 
point  of  view  ;  that  it  is  not  in  contradiction  with  other  phenomena, 
and  does  not  make  out  of  a  small  miracle  a  greater  one,  but  while 
it  solves  (!)  many  riddles,  reduces  most  others  to  a  single  simpler 
one."  These  are  the  words  of  a  serious  naturalist  at  the  end  of  the 
nineteenth  century  !  The  same  views  on  this  point,  though  not  so 
clearly  expressed,  are  also  maintained  by  the  well-known  botanist 
Kerner  von  Marilaun  and  the  pathologist  Rindfleisch.  Indeed,  from 
many  quarters  a  frank  and  unmistakable  demand  is  made  for  the 
recognition  of  a  "  neo-vitalism." 

Quite  different  from  this  pronounced  reaction  towards  mysticism 
is  the  vitalism  which  the  physiologist  Bunge  professes.  Bunge  is 
a  man  of  sound  philosophical  and  critical  ability;  and  if  he  openly 
sets  himself  up  for  a  vitalist  he  produces  by  so  doing  a  false  impres- 
sion, for  his  vitalism,  if  closely  examined,  will  be  found  to  be  some- 
thing quite  different  from  the  vitalism  of  the  old  school. 

True,  Bunge  openly  takes  his  stand  on  the  ground  of  vitalism, 
when  he  says,*  "  If  you  assert  in  refutation  of  vitalism  that  there 
are  no  other  factors  active  in  living  beings  save  the  forces  and  ma- 
terials of  unanimated  nature  alone,  I  must  dispute  your  assertion." 


*  Lehrbuch   der  physiologischen  und  pathologischen    Chemie.      Second  Edition. 
Leipsic.      1889. 


364  THE  MONIST. 

Yet  we  shall  observe  if  we  follow  Bunge  a  little  further  that  his  vital- 
ism is  purely  a  subjective  idealism,  which  has  sprung  from  the  per- 
ception that  it  is  reversing  the  true  order  of  things  to  attempt  to 
explain  psychical  processes  by  a  mechanics  of  atoms.  Bunge  says  : 
"The  essence  of  vitalism  consists  simply  in  taking  the  only  right 
course  of  knowledge,  that  is,  in  starting  from  the  known,  or  the  inner 
world,  in  attempting  to  explain  the  unknown,  or  outer  world."  We 
see  thus  that  Bunge  is  on  the  right  path  by  his  so-called  vitalism  for 
avoiding  the  one  cause  of  reaction  towards  the  old  mysticism — namely, 
the  impossibility  of  resolving  psychical  processes  by  the  physics  and 
chemistry  of  matter.  But  unfortunately  at  this  point  Bunge  comes  to 
a  halt.  Instead  of  drawing  from  this  perception  that  the  whole  phys- 
ical world  consists  simply  of  compounds  of  sensations  or  of  percepts, 
as  its  ultimate  and  unavoidable  consequence  a  demand  for  a  monistic 
conception  of  the  world,  Bunge  still  lingers  in  the  old  dualistic  no- 
tion of  a  contrariety  between  a  living  and  a  lifeless,  a  dead  and  an 
ensouled  nature,  to  which  he  gives  expression  in  the  above-cited 
words,  and  sees  no  other  way  out  of  the  difficulty  at  present  than  to 
go  on  resignedly  working  away  in  the  old  mechanical  direction,  which 
by  his  own  confession  is  a  reversion  of  the  true  method. 

THE  MONISTIC  POINT  OF  VIEW. 

They  who  have  fought  their  way  through  to  a  monistic  point  of 
view  will  have  little  difficulty  in  finding  a  complete  and  satisfactory 
solution  of  this  dilemma.  If"  the  world  of  bodies  consists  solely  of 
compounds  of  sensations,  then  the  whole  world  is  a  unitary  existence, 
for  the  supposed  and  otherwise  irreconcilable  contrariety  of  a  physical 
world  and  a  psychical  world  is  dissipated.  When,  therefore,  we  in- 
vestigate the  physical  world  in  a  scientific  or  physical  manner,  we 
really  investigate,  in  so  doing,  the  laws  according  to  which  our  per- 
cepts or  notions  of  the  physical  world  arrange  themselves  and  com- 
bine to  form  higher  compounds,  that  is,  we  are  really  pursuing  a 
psychological  inquiry.  All  natural  science  consists  of  such  work, 
and  the  so-called  "mechanical"  method  of  research  which  has 
hitherto  universally  obtained,  and  by  its  great  successes  proved  it- 


MODERN  PHYSIOLOGY.  365 

self  so  wonderfully  productive,  is  not  only  fraught  with  no  danger 
for  him  who  is  conscious  that  mechanism  is  not  a  thing  which  is 
opposed  to  and  exists  beyond  the  soul,  but  even  finds  its  full  justifica- 
tion. From  a  monistic  point  of  view,  therefore,  the  mechanical 
method  of  inquiry  is  noJt  only,  as  Bunge  believes,  a  provisional  ex- 
pediency, but  actually  an  absolute  necessity. 

But  in  this  case  the  mechanical  method  of  inquiry  must  also  be 
able  to  explain  the  phenomena  of  living  as  well  as  of  lifeless  bodies  ; 
in  both  cases  we  have  to  deal  with  bodies,  and  for  both,  the  laws  of 
those  complexes  of  sensations  which  we  call  bodies  must  possess 
validity.  But  it  is  altogether  a  different  undertaking  to  attempt  to 
explain  by  phenomena  of  the  physical  world  simple  sensations,  which 
unlike  our  conceptions  of  bodies  are  not  complexes.  An  endeavor 
of  this  kind,  such  as  the  materialists  are  constantly  but  vainly  un- 
dertaking, is  like  the  absurd  attempt  to  divide  the  series  of  whole 
numbers  by  a  number  which  is  not  numerical  unity.  In  the  one  case 
as  in  the  other,  of  course,  the  computation  cannot  be  performed. 

The  main  obstacle  that  has  stood  in  the  way  of  the  establish- 
ment of  monistic  conceptions  is  the  supposed  contrariety  of  body 
and  soul,  an  idea  familiar  to  human  thought  since  the  earliest  times. 
In  fact,  it  would  seem  at  first  blush  a  wonderful  thing  that  this  an- 
cient idea  of  the  ensoulment  of  physical  things  could  have  main- 
tained itself  with  such  tenacity  till  so  late  a  day.  If  the  physical 
world  is  in  reality  only  conception,  it  seems  at  first  almost  absurd  to 
think  of  a  conception  as  being  ensouled.  Yet  no  one  doubts  for  a 
moment  that  other  human  beings  are  ensouled,  and  only  a  few, 
that  animals  are  ensouled.  It  is  worth  while  to  look  more  closely 
into  this  paradox.  When  we  do  so,  it  will  be  found  that  exactly  in 
a  monistic  point  of  view  is  the  corroboration,  nay,  the  necessity,  of 
this  interesting  phenomenon  to  be  found.  The  idea  of  the  ensoul- 
ment of  physical  objects  or  bodies  is  the  first  beginning  of  a  psycho- 
logical analysis  of  our  conceptions  of  bodies.  By  thinking  of  a  body 
as  ensouled,  man  makes  the  first  step  in  the  analysis  of  his  own  con- 
ception of  that  body. 

A  little  reflexion  will  at  once  make  this  clear.  We  need  only 
look  somewhat  closely  at  our  conception  of  our  own  body.  The  his- 


366  THE  MONIST. 

tory  of  the  development  of  the  soul,  as  Wundt*  and  Preyerf  have 
followed  it  in  the  history  of  the  development  of  the  mind  of  man 
and  especially  of  the  child,  shows  us  in  outline  how  our  conception 
of  our  own  individual  body  has  arisen.  The  formation  of  this  ap- 
parently compact  ego  is  an  inductive  process.  The  first  beginnings 
are  made  unconsciously,  by  primitive  sensations  being  brought  into 
mutual  connexion.  These  are  the  original,  as  yet  unconscious,  in- 
dividual egos  of  the  different  parts  of  the  body,  which  subsequently 
we  consciously  distinguish.  But,  owing  to  the  fact  that  these  indi- 
vidual egos,  in  the  course  of  a  rather  long  development,  are  grad- 
ually referred  to  the  egos  of  individual  sense-organs,  particularly  to 
that  of  the  sense  of  sight,  as  to  something  constant,  the  single,  uni- 
fied conception  of  a  whole  bodily  ego  is  slowly  developed,  which,  by 
the  constant  acquisition  of  new  elements  gradually  reaches  higher 
and  higher  stages  of  consciousness  ;  for  what  we  call  consciousness 
is  a  fact  of  enormous  comprehension  and  intricacy,  which  we  can 
reverse,  so  to  speak,  and  by  the  gradual  elimination  of  single  com- 
ponent parts,  such  as  takes  place,  for  example,  in  partial  and  total 
hypnosis,  dreams,  narcosis,  and  so  forth,  actually  analyse  into 
unconscious  sensations.  While  the  conscious  ego  by  the  intus- 
susception of  new  elements  is  thus  constantly  widening,  the  notion 
of  the  ego  is  slowly  formed  which  every  normal  man  possesses,  and 
which  subsequently  also  he  constantly  extends.  These  are,  of  course, 
only  the  first  beginnings  of  our  investigations  in  psychogenesis,  and 
many  essential  elements  of  our  knowledge  in  this  domain  are  still 
wanting.  But  these  facts  are  now  quite  settled,  that  the  formation 
of  our  notion  of  our  own  body  is  nothing  more  or  less  than  the 
outgrowth  and  combination  of  certain  simple  sensations,  images, 
thoughts,  judgments,  and  so  forth,  which  constantly  increase  in 
complexity  and  ultimately  yield  a  product  of  extremest  intricacy, 
namely,  our  notion  of  our  bodily  ego,  so  simple  to  superficial  in- 
spection. 

Here,  in  any  event,  we  have  a  first  equation  :   What  appears  to 

*  Wundt,   Vorlesungen  iiber  Menschen-  und  Thierseele.     Leipsic,  1863. 
f  Preyer,  Die  Seele  des  Kindes.    Beobachtungen  iiber  die  geistige  Entwiektitng  in 
den  ersten  Lebensjahren.     Leipsic,  1881. 


MODERN  PHYSIOLOGY.  367 

us  as  so  compact  and  single  an  object  as  our  body,  is  in  reality  an 
extremely  complex  synthesis  of  our  own  mind,  the  individual  ele- 
ments of  which  psychogenetic  inquiry  has  only  revealed  with  great 
difficulty,  and  that  only  to  a  very  limited  extent.  But  just  as  our 
notion  of  our  own  body  is  only  a  simple  expression,  a  symbol,  for 
an  extremely  complex  psychical  synthesis,  such  also  are  our  notions 
of  all  other  bodies,  in  the  first  instance  of  all  other  men,  but  then 
also  of  all  animals  and  plants  down  to  unicellular  organisms,  nay, 
even  into  the  dark  province  of  molecules  and  atoms  which  make  up 
the  lifeless  bodies  of  nature.  The  formation  of  our  notion  of  the 
world  of  bodies  is  nothing  else  than  an  extension  of  our  own  Psyche. 

When,  therefore,  we  picture  to  ourselves  a  body  as  ensouled  in 
the  same  way  that  we  conceive  our  own  body  ensouled,  with  these  or 
those  sensations  or  groups  of  sensations,  in  doing  this  we  only  ana- 
lyse our  apparently  single  and  compact  notion  of  the  body,  be  it  of  a 
man  or  of  an  animal  or  what  not,  according  to  the  standard  of  our 
present  knowledge,  into  the  simpler  component  elements  out  of  which 
it  has  been  psychogenetically  constructed.  Proceeding  rigorously 
and  logically  from  our  first  equation  we  obtain  thus  by  conceiving 
bodies  as  ensouled  a  multitude  of  new  equations,  from  many  of  which 
we  can  eliminate  and  isolate  certain  factors  more  easily  and  distinctly 
than  from  the  first.  But  we  have  no  right,  if  we  are  determined  to 
be  logical  and  consistent,  to  stop  with  the  conception  of  ensoulment 
at  man,  as  early  times  did,  or  at  animals,  as  is  now  usually  done,  or, 
for  that  matter,  at  organisms  at  all :  it  is  an  inexorable  consequence 
which,  foreshadowed  by  ancient  philosophers,  has  been  more  dis- 
tinctly expressed  in  modern  philosophy,  and  in  natural  science  espe- 
cially set  forth  and  expounded  with  great  lucidity  by  Haeckel,  that 
all  bodies  must  be  regarded  as  ensouled,  though  ensouled  it  may  be 
in  different  ways. 

Thus  from  the  monistic  point  of  view  the  apparent  dualism  of 
the  world  of  body  and  the  world  of  soul  finds  its  just  appreciation. 
Monism  alone  disposes  in  a  simple  and  satisfactory  manner  of  the 
old,  old  problem  of  the  relations  of  the  body  to  the  soul,  of  the  ma- 
terial to  the  spiritual  world, —  a  problem  whose  insolubility  from  the 
point  of  view  of  dualism  again  threatens  to  drive  us  into  the  arms 


368  THE  MONIST. 

of  vitalism.  While  at  the  same  time  monism  also  tears  down  the  last 
barrier  which  Bunge  is  disposed  to  see  between  living  and  lifeless 
nature — namely,  ensoulment. 

CELLULAR  PHYSIOLOGY. 

If  on  the  one  hand  we  can  justly  cherish  the  hope  that  the  in- 
creasing extension  of  the  monistic  world-view  in  natural  science  will 
ward  off  the  dangers  of  a  reaction  to  the  old  vitalism,  the  fact 
nevertheless  remains  that  in  treading  the  beaten  paths  we  are  mak- 
ing no  progress  whatever  in  physiology,  and  that  we  have  stood  still 
for  years  on  the  same  spot  and  not  approached  a  single  step  nearer 
our  goal  of  explaining  the  elementary  phenomena  of  life. 

We  have  reached  a  turning-point  in  physiological  research  which 
could  scarcely  be  made  more  prominent.  The  reappearance  of  vital 
force  is  a  token  of  it.  As  before  all  great  crises  of  history  porten- 
tous spirits  appear  to  clairvoyant  people,  so  in  our  days  the  ghost 
of  the  old  vital  force  has  loomed  up  in  the  minds  of  some  of  our  nat- 
ural inquirers. 

But  striking  and  obvious  as  the  fact  is  that  we  can  no  longer 
approach  by  the  old  paths  of  research  an  explanation  of  the  elemen- 
tary phenomena  of  life,  still,  it  is  exactly  as  obvious  and  striking  in 
what  direction  there  is  the  only  chance  or  hope  of  our  approaching 
our  goal. 

We  have  traced  the  vital  processes  of  man  in  physiology  back 
to  the  point  where  they  are  lost  in  the  cell.  Now,  what  is  more  rea- 
sonable than  that  we  should  seek  them  out  in  the  cell?  In  the  muscle- 
cell  is  hidden  the  riddle  of  muscle-movement,  in  the  lymph-cell  is 
hidden  the  causes  of  secretion,  in  the  epithelial  cell  is  buried  the 
problem  of  resorption,  and  so  on.  The  theory  of  the  cell  has  long 
since  disclosed  that  the  cell  is  the  elementary  foundation-stone  of 
the  living  body,  the  "elementary  organism"  itself,  that  in  which 
the  processes  of  life  have  their  seat ;  anatomy  and  evolution,  zoology 
and  botany,  have  long  since  realised  the  significance  of  this  fact, 
and  the  wonderful  development  of  these  sciences  has  furnished  a 
brilliant  proof  of  the  fruitfulness  of  this  branch  of  inquiry.  Only  in 
physiology  was  the  simple,  obvious,  and  logical  consequence  over- 


MODERN  PHYSIOLOGY.  369 

looked,  and  until  very  recently  not  practically  applied,  that  if  physi- 
ology regards  it  at  all  as  her  task  to  inquire  into  the  phenomena  of 
life,  she  must  seek  these  phenomena  at  the  spot  where  they  have 
their  origin,  at  the  focus  of  life-processes,  in  the  cell.  If  physiology, 
therefore,  is  not  simply  content  with  confirming  the  knowledge  which 
is  already  gained  of  the  crude  mechanical  actions  of  the  human 
body,  but  makes  it  its  object  to  explain  clearly  elementary  and  gen- 
eral phenomena  of  life,  it  can  accomplish  this  object  only  as  cellular 
physiology. 

It  may  appear  paradoxical,  that  although  nearly  half  a  century 
has  elapsed  since  Rudolf  Virchow  first  enunciated  in  several  classical 
works  the  cellular  principle  as  the  basis  of  all  organic  inquiry,  a 
basis  on  which  to-day,  indeed,  all  our  ideas  in  pathology  are  con- 
structed, physiology  still  is  only  just  beginning  to  develop  out  of  a 
physiology  of  organs  into  a  physiology  of  cells.  Yet  this  is  the  true 
and  normal  course  of  development  of  science  which  always  advances 
from  the  crude  to  the  delicate.  And  it  would,  therefore,  be  impar- 
donable  ingratitude  and  a  mistaking  of  the  mode  of  development  of 
human  knowledge  if  we  should  seek  in  the  least  to  underrate  the 
high  importance  of  the  physiological  research  of  the  past  epoch,  on 
whose  shoulders  in  fact  we  stand,  and  with  whose  results  we  more  or 
less  consciously  continue  our  work.  Further,  in  our  judgment  of 
the  course  of  development  of  physiological  research,  a  factor  must 
not  be  overlooked  which  controls  the  development  of  every  science, 
namely,  the  psychological  factor  of  fashion.  The  development  of 
every  science  depends  on  the  stupendous  influence  of  great  discov- 
eries. Wherever  we  cast  our  eye  in  the  history  of  inquiry,  we  find 
that  great  discoveries  such  as,  to  take  the  case  of  physiology,  are 
represented  in  the  works  of  Ludwig,  Claude  Bernard,  Du  Bois-Rey- 
mond,  and  Liebig,  deflect  interest  from  other  fields  and  induce  a 
great  multitude  of  inquirers  to  pursue  research  in  the  same  direction 
with  the  same  methods,  especially  when  these  methods  have  proved 
themselves  so  wonderfully  fruitful  as  in  the  cases  adduced.  Thus, 
certain  departments  of  inquiry  become,  in  connexion  with  epoch- 
making  performances,  fashionable,  and  the  interest  of  thinkers  in 
others  subsides.  But  an  equalisation  in  the  course  of  time  is  always 


370  THE  MON1ST. 

re-effected,  for  every  field  of  inquiry,  every  method  of  inquiry  is  finite 
and  exhausts  itself  in  time.  We  have  now  reached  just  such  a  point 
in  physiology  :  the  physiology  of  organs  is  in  its  period  of  exhaus- 
tion. Also  the  method  of  cellular  physiology  will  exhaust  itself  in 
the  course  of  time,  and  its  place  will  be  taken  by  other  methods 
which  the  present  state  of  the  problem  do  not  yet  require. 

But  for  the  present  the  future  belongs  to  cellular  physiology. 
There  are,  it  is  true,  inquirers  who,  although  they  are  convinced  of 
the  present  necessity  of  a  cellular  physiology,  and  see  perfectly  well 
that  the  cell  as  the  focus  of  the  processes  of  life  must  now  constitute 
the  real  object  of  research,  yet  doubt  for  technical  reasons  whether 
it  is  possible  to  get  at  the  riddles  of  life  as  they  exist  in  the  cell.  It 
may,  therefore,  be  justly  demanded  that  some  way,  some  methods 
be  shown  with  which  a  cellular  physiology  can  be  founded.  The 
doubt  of  the  feasibility  of  this  undertaking  is  in  great  part  the  out- 
come of  a  phenomenon,  which,  unfortunately  we  must  say,  has 
characterised  physiology  ever  since  the  death  of  Johannes  Miiller, 
namely,  the  total  lack  of  a  comparative  physiology.  Physiology 
has  not  yet  entered  on  this  rich  inheritance  of  the  great  master. 
How  many  among  the  physiologists  of  the  day  are  acquainted  with 
other  objects  of  experiment  than  the  dog,  the  rabbit,  the  guinea-pig, 
the  frog,  and  a  few  other  higher  animals  !  To  how  many  are  the 
numerous  and  beautiful  objects  of  experiment  known  which  the 
wonderful  luxuriance  of  the  lower  animal  world  offers  !  And  yet  just 
among  these  objects  are  to  be  found  the  forms  which  are  best 
adapted  to  a  cellular-physiological  solution  of  physiological  prob- 
lems. 

Naturally,  if  we  believe  we  are  limited,  in  our  cellular-physio- 
logical treatment  of  the  riddles  of  motion,  digestion,  and  resorp- 
tion,  solely  to  man  and  the  higher  animals,  we  shall  encounter  in 
our  investigation  of  the  living  muscle-cell,  lymph-cell,  epithelial 
cell,  and  so  forth,  more  or  less  insuperable  technical  difficulties. 
And  yet  the  splendid  researches  of  Heidenhain  on  secretion,  diges- 
tion, lymph-formation,  and  so  forth,  have  shown  what  good  results 
the  cellular-physiological  method  can  achieve  even  here.  Well- 
planned  histological  experiments,  such  as  those  which  put  the  liv- 


MODERN  PHYSIOLOGY.  371 

ing  cell  in  its  intact  connexion  with  the  remaining  woof  of  the  body 
under  given  conditions,  and  then  investigate  the  results  in  the  sud- 
denly slaughtered  animal,  to  get  from  such  experiments  light  on 
the  processes  peculiar  to  the  condition  of  life,  undoubtedly  furnish 
the  germ  of  much  valuable  knowledge.  But  it  is  of  the  very  nature 
of  these  experiments  that  they  must  always  remain  difficult  and  re- 
stricted, for  the  living  object,  the  tissue-cell,  is  accessible  to  micro- 
scopic investigation  only  with  the  greatest  difficulty.  Comparatively 
small  difficulties  in  this  respect  are  offered  only  by  the  free-living 
cells  of  the  organism,  as,  for  example,  by  the  leucocytes  or  blood- 
corpuscles.  And  as  a  fact,  by  the  researches  of  Metschnikoff,  Mas- 
sart,  Buchner,  Gabritchevsky,  and  many  others,  we  have  recently 
acquired  some  important  and  wide-reaching  experimental  knowl- 
edge concerning  the  vital  phenomena  of  these  very  objects. 

But  if  we  place  ourselves  at  the  point  of  view  of  comparative 
physiology  which  Johannes  Miiller  represented  throughout  his  whole 
life  with  such  success  and  energy,  an  infinitely  broad  perspective 
opens  itself  up  for  cellular  investigations.  A  comparative  view 
shows  one  fact  of  fundamental  importance,  namely,  that  elementary 
life-phenomena  are  inherent  in  every  cell,  whether  it  be  a  cell  from 
the  tissues  of  higher  animals  or  from  the  tissues  of  lower  animals, 
whether  it  be  a  cell  of  a  plant,  or,  lastly,  a  free  cell,  an  independent 
unicellular  organism.  Every  one  of  these  cells  shows  the  general 
phenomena  of  life,  as  they  lie  at  the  basis  of  all  life,  in  their  indi- 
vidual form.  With  this  knowledge,  all  that  it  is  necessary  for  the 
inquirer  to  do  is  to  select  for  every  special  object  of  experiment  the 
fittest  objects  from  the  wealth  of  forms  presented,  and  with  a  little 
knowledge  of  the  animal  and  plant  world,  such  forms  really  obtrude 
themselves  on  the  attention  of  the  experimenter.  Accordingly,  it  is 
no  longer  necessary  to  cleave  so  timorously  to  the  tissue-cells  of  the 
higher  vertebrate  animals,  which,  while  alive  and  in  normal  environ- 
ment, we  can  only  use  for  microscopic  experiments  in  the  rarest  and 
most  exceptional  cases ;  which  further,  the  moment  they  are  iso- 
lated from  their  tissues,  are  no  longer  in  normal  conditions  and 
quickly  die  or  give  reactions  that  may  easily  lead  to  wrong  conclu- 
sions and  to  errors.  Much  more  favorable  are  the  tissue-cells  of 


372  THE  MONIST. 

many  invertebrate,  cold-blooded  animals  or  plants  which  can  be 
more  easily  investigated  in  approximately  normal  conditions  of  life  ; 
yet  even  these,  as  a  rule,  will  not  outlast  protracted  experiments. 
But  here  appear  as  the  fittest  imaginable  objects,  for  cellular-physi- 
ological purposes,  free-living  unicellular  organisms — namely,  pro- 
tists.  They  seem  to  be  created  by  nature  expressly  for  the  physi- 
ologist, for  they  possess,  besides  great  powers  of  resistance,  the  in- 
calculable advantage  of  existing  in  a  limitless  variety  of  form,  and 
of  exhibiting,  as  the  lowest  organisms  that  exist,  all  phenomena  of 
life  in  their  simplest  conditions,  such  as  are  not  to  be  found  among 
cells  which  are  united  to  form  tissues,  on  account  of  their  one-sided 
adaptation  to  the  common  life  of  the  cellular  colony. 

Concerning  the  application  of  experimental  physiological  meth- 
ods to  the  cell,  we  need  be  in  no  perplexity  as  to  which  we  shall 
choose.  In  the  luxuriant  multiplicity  of  form  which  this  world  pre- 
sents, there  can  always  be  found  for  every  purpose  a  great  number 
of  suitable  objects  to  which  the  most  different  special  methods  can 
be  capitally  applied. 

We  can,  to  begin  with  the  simplest  method,  apply  in  the  easi- 
est manner  imaginable  to  the  free-living  cell  the  method  of  simple 
microscopic  observation  of  vital  processes.  In  this  manner  mere 
observation  has  furnished  us  knowledge  of  the  individual  life-phe- 
nomena of  cells  in  many  details  and  also  of  their  mutual  connexion. 
Among  the  most  recent  achievements  of  this  simple  method  may 
be  mentioned  only  the  extremely  valuable  knowledge  concerning 
the  more  delicate  and  extremely  minute  circumstances  of  fecunda- 
tion and  propagation  which  Flemming,  Van  Beneden,  the  Hertwigs, 
Strasburger,  Boveri,  and  many  others  have  gained  in  recent  years, 
partly  from  living  cells  and  partly  from  cells  fixed  in  definite  condi- 
tions of  life. 

Moreover,  we  can  also  conduct  under  the  microscope  vivisec- 
tional  operations  on  unicellular  organisms  in  exactly  the  same  scope 
and  with  greater  methodical  precision  than  can  be  done  on  the 
higher  animals.  Several  inquirers,  as  Gruber,  Balbiani,  and  Hofer, 
have  already  trodden  this  path  with  great  success,  and  a  consider- 
able group  of  researches  has  shown  distinctly  enough  the  fruitful- 


MODERN   PHYSIOLOGY.  373 

ness  which  this  cellular  vivisectional  method  of  operation  promises 
for  the  treatment  of  general  physiological  problems.  With  this 
vivisectional  method  also  Roux,  the  Hertwigs,  and  others  con- 
ducted their  splendid  investigations  on  the  "  mechanics  of  animal 
evolution,"  by  showing  what  functions  in  the  development  of  ani- 
mals fall  to  the  lot  of  the  different  parts  of  the  egg-cell  or  to  the  first 
filial  cells  that  proceed  from  their  division. 

We  can  also  apply  here,  in  its  whole  extent,  that  powerful 
physiological  method  known  as  the  method  of  irritation,  and  inves- 
tigate the  effects  of  different  kinds  of  irritation  on  the  life-phenom- 
ena of  the  cell  or  of  different  cell-forms.  The  vegetable  physiologists 
have  already  collected  a  great  mass  of  material  in  this  field.  But 
also  in  the  department  of  animal  physiology  a  great  number  of  re- 
cent works  have  endeavored  to  prove  that  the  phenomenon  of  irri- 
tation which  takes  place  on  the  application  of  chemical,  mechanical, 
thermal,  galvanic,  and  luminous  stimuli  to  unicellular  organisms  are 
of  the  greatest  importance  for  the  phenomena  of  life  generally. 

Finally,  we  can  approach  the  life-phenomena  of  the  cell  chem- 
ically, although  in  this  direction  only  the  very  first  beginnings  have 
been  made,  seeing  that  the  microchemical  methods  have  been  hith- 
erto little  developed.  Nevertheless,  the  labors  of  Miescher,  Kossel, 
Altmann,  Zacharias,  Lowitt,  and  others  have  already  shown  that 
the  microchemical  investigation  of  the  cell  has  a  future  of  great 
promise. 

In  the  meantime,  it  is  a  gratuitous  task  to  enumerate  the  indi- 
vidual methods  that  are  capable  of  application  in  the  domain  of 
physiology.  All  methods  may  be  used  which  the  special  experimen- 
tal object  of  the  moment  requires. 

Ever  and  anon  in  physiology  must  we  revert  to  the  point  of 
view  which  formerly  so  fruitfully  shaped  the  research  of  our  great 
master,  Johannes  Mtiller.  Johannes  Miiller,  during  his  whole  life, 
practically  and  theoretically  represented  the  view  that  there  is  no 
one  physiological  method,  but  that  every  method  is  admissible 
which  leads  to  the  goal.  He  always  chose  his  method  to  fit  his 
problem  and  never,  as  is  now  so  often  done,  the  problem  to  fit  his 
method.  Not  the  method,  but  the  problem  of  physiology  is  single 


374  THE  MONIST. 

and  unique.  In  the  solution  of  this  problem  physiology  employs 
chemical  and  physical,  anatomical  and  developmental,  zoological 
and  botanical,  mathematical  and  philosophical  methods  of  inquiry, 
according  to  what  the  special  object  in  view  requires.  But  all  meth- 
ods shall  lead  to  one  goal  only,  the  solution  of  the  question,  What 
is  Life? 

MAX  VERWORN. 
JENA. 


KANT'S  DOCTRINE  OF  THE  SCHEMATA. 

WITH    ONE   accord   the   exegetists   find   in   this  subject  of  the 
"  Kritik  "  no  positive  contribution  to  our  knowledge.      Pro- 
fessor Green  (Vol.  II,  p.  39)  says  : 

"And  since  the~categories  themselves  are  nothing  else  than  the  forms  of  this 
unity,  as  so  exercised,  nothing  is  needed  to  mediate  between  them  and  the  objects. 
The  'Transcendental  Analytic'  would  have  been  much  simpler  if  the  account  of 
the  categories  prior  to  the  '  Deduction '  had  been  omitted.  The  categories  then 
would  have  appeared  in  that  separate  form  in  which  they  are  made  to  correspond 
to  the  classification  of  logical  judgments  (a  classification  which  is  only  of  value  in 
relation  to  the  syllogism,  and  which  represents  as  little  as  the  syllogism  the  process 
by  which  intelligent  experience  is  formed).  We  should  have  had  (i)  what  is  fanci-4 
fully  called  the  '  Deduction  of  the  Categories,'  exhibiting  the  unity  of  apperception, 
derived  from  the  presence  of  the  '  transcendental  ego '  to  all  feelings,  as  the  condi- 
tion of  the  possibility  of  all  experience,  and  then  (2)  without  surplusage  of  distinc- 
tion between  '  categories '  and  '  schemata,'  an  account  of  the  principles  of  pure  un- 
derstanding (as  given  in  the  third  section  of  the  '  System  of  Principles '),  i.  e..  of 
'the  general  rules  of  unity  in  the  synthesis  of  phenomena,'  as  arising  out  of  the 
application  of  the  thinking  unit  to  the  'manifold  of  sense,'  and  thus  involving 
'  determination  of  time.'  " 

I  understand  Professor  Green  to  say  that  the  schema  is  un- 
necessary and  that  it  is  unnecessary  because  the  category  and  the 
object  to  which  the  category  is  applied  have  a  common  source  in 
the  transcendental  unity.  Since  the  object  arud  the  category  are 
alike  forms  of  the  unity  of  consciousness,  the  category  does  not  need 
any  schema  in  order  to  apply  to  the  object.  Hence  he  speaks  of 
the  division  into  categories  and  schemata  as  a  "surplusage  of  dis- 
tinction." 


376  THE  MONIST. 

Prof.  Edward  Caird  says  (Vol.  I,  p.  435,  "The  Critical  Phi- 
losophy of  Kant"): 

"It  is  important  here  to  observe  that  the  schematism  is  made  necessary  simply 
and  solely  by  Kant's  view  of  self -consciousness." 

Again  (p.  437)  : 

'  "if  we  thus  work  out  the  idea  of  the  universal  and  the  particular,  of  conception 
and  perception,  in  the  judgment,  we  see  that  Kant's  mediation  of  each  moment  by 
the  others  must  necessarily  reduce  them  to  relative  elements  which  exist  only  in 
this  unity.  The  reciprocity  of  determination  between  the  two  terms,  which  is  thus 
disclosed,  reduces  their  difference  into  a  difference  of  correlative  elements  ;  and  at 
the  same  time,  it  makes  unnecessary  the  interposition  of  any  middle  term  to  con- 
nect them." 

Again  (p.  439)  : 

"We  can,  indeed,  vindicate  Kant  to  some  extent  by  referring  to  what  he  else- 
where says,  to  the  effect  (i)  that  the  synthesis  of  imagination,  by  which  perception 
is  brought  about,  is  conformable  to  the  categories,  and  (2)  that  the  consciousness  of 
self  in  inner  experience  is  possible  only  in  relation  to  outer  experience.  But  when 
we  make  the  correction  necessitated  by  these  two  admissions,  there  is  no  longer  any 
need  to  schematise  the  conception,  with  reference  to  its  use  as  a  predicate  for  per- 
ceptions given  independently." 

I  understand  Professor  Caird  to  teach  that  the  schemata  are 
unnecessary  and  to  go  to  the  point  of  vindicating  Kant  for  this  con- 
fusion into  which  he  fell.  Dr.  Adickes  in  his  edition  of  the  "  Kritik  " 
(p.  171,  note)  says  : 

"Das  dunkelste  Stiick  der  '  Kritik'  haben  wir  hier  vor  uns,  von  Manchen  des- 
halb  fur  das  tiefsinnigste  gehalten.  Verschiedenartige  Losungen  des  Rathsels  sind 
versucht,  oft  ausserst  verwickelte.  Ich  biete  eine  neue,  sehr  einfache,  die  freilich 
den  Kantglaubigen  sehr  gewagt,  wenn  nicht  sogar  gottlos  oder  frivol  diinken  wird. 
Nach  meiner  Ansicht  ist  dem  Abschnitt  iiber  den  Schematismus  gar  kein  wissen- 
schaftlicher  Werth  beizumessen,  da  er  nur  aus  systematischen  Griinden  spater  in 
den  '  kurzen  Abriss  '  eingefiigt  ist." 

Dr.  Adickes  thinks  there  is  no  difficulty  to  be  met.  The  cate- 
gories are  at  work  upon  the  objects  and  do  not  need  any  tertium 
quid  to  mediate.  In  the  second  place,  if  there  were  any  such  diffi- 
culty, it  would  be  insurmountable.  Kant  creates  the  difficulty  by 
following  formal  logic. 

We  have  given  the  interpretations  of  three  leading   students  of 


KANT'S  DOCTRINE  OF  THE  SCHEMATA.  377 

Kant.  They  insist  that  Kant's  doctrine  of  the  schemata  is  not  an 
addition  to  the  thought-movement  of  the  "  Kritik. "  While  the 
weight  of  this  authority  is  alarming  to  any  student,  it  is  evident  that 
the  probabilities  are  against  them.  A  great  thinker  does  not  err  in 
his  doctrine.  He  may  fool  himself,  even  as  a  child  would,  in  setting 
forth  the  ultimate  significance  of  his  doctrine  ;  but  the  doctrine  it- 
self cannot  be  vain.  It  is  the  expression  of  a  thought-movement. 
It  is  like  the  arm  of  a  man's  body.  The  only  possible  mistake  is 
one  of  use. 

What  is  Kant's  doctrine  of  the  schemata?  It  is  a  section  in  the 
analysis  of  the  third  subject  in  the  "  Kritik."  First  comes  the  ^Es- 
thetic, occupied  with  a  study  of  space  and  time.  Then  comes  the 
Deduction  of  the  Categories.  Then  comes  a  deduction  of  the  judg- 
ing-power  (Urtheilskraff).  The  judging-power  Kant  considers  from 
two  points  of  view.  First,  there  are  conditions  in  the  subject.  Sec- 
ond, there  are  conditions  in  the  object.  That  is,  in  order  to  put  a 
category  to  work,  there  are  necessary  these  conditions.  The  condi- 
tions in  the  subject  are  called  schemata  ;  the  conditions  in  the  ob- 
ject are  called  principles  (Grundsatze).  I  understand  Kant  to  con- 
sider in  the  section  called,  Von  dem  Schematismus  der  reinen  Ver- 
standesbegriffe,  the  conditions  of  the  judging  process,  viewed  sub- 
jectively ;  and  in  the  section,  System  aller  Grundsatze  des  reinen  Ver- 
standes,  the  conditions  of  the  judging  process,  viewed  objectively. 
These  two  considerations  form  the  doctrine  which  he  calls,  Von  der 
transcendentalen  Urtheilskraft  iiberhaupt.  We  are  concerned  with 
the  first  section,  his  doctrine  of  the  schemata,  that  is,  his  doctrine 
of  the  subjective  conditions  of  the  judging  process.  Let  us  repro- 
duce his  analysis. 

In  the  introduction  (p.  168,  Adickes's  edition),  Kant  distin- 
guishes between  the  Verstand  and  the  Urtheilskraft*  The  Verstand 
is  the  legislating  activity — laying  down  rules  ;  the  Urtheilskraft  is 
the  administrating  activity — bringing  an  object  under  a  rule.  The 
first  activity  has  been  analysed  in  the  Deduction.  We  are  now  oc- 
cupied with  the  Urtheilskraft,  This  consideration  belongs  entirely 
to  transcendental  logic.  It  is  a  study  of  the  power  of  judging,  not 
of  the  form  of  anything, — hence  formal  logic  has  nothing  to  say  here. 


THE  MON1ST. 

This  transcendental  doctrine  of  the  power  to  judge  falls  into 
two  divisions.  I  give  Kant's  words  (p.  170)  : 

"  Das  erste,  welches  von  der  sinnlichen  Bedingung  handelt,  unter  welcher  reine 
Verstandesbegriffe  allein  gebraucht  werden  konnen,  d.  i.  von  dem  Schematismus 
des  reinen  Verstandes  ;  das  zweite  aber  von  denen  synthetischen  Urtheilen,  welche 
aus  reinen  Verstandesbegriffen  unter  diesen  Bedingungen  a  priori  herfliessen,  und 
alien  iibrigen  Erkenntnissen  a  priori  zum  Grunde  liegen,  d.  i.  von  den  Grundsatzen 
des  reinen  Verstandes." 

I  understand  that  the  first  considers  the  judging  power  as  it  is 
in  the  subject ;  the  second,  the  judging  power  as  it  is  in  the  object. 
Kant  proceeds  with  his  doctrine  (p.  171)  : 

"  i.  Whenever  an  object  is  brought  under  a  concept,  the  representation  of  the 
object  must  be  like-in-kind  (gleichartig)  to  the  concept — that  is,  the  concept  must 
contain  that  which  is  represented  in  the  object. 

"  2.  .The  pure  concept  of  the  understanding  is  not  like-in-kind  to  the  empirical 
intuition,  and  can  never  be  met  in  it. 

"3.  How,  then,  can  the  empirical  intuition  be  subsumed  under  the  pure  con- 
cept ?  This  is  the  problem  to  be  solved. 

"4.  The  meeting-ground  must  be  that  which  is  like-in-kind  to  the  intuition 
and  the  concept. 

"  5.  This  mediator — on  the  one  hand,  like-in-kind  to  the  concept,  on  the  other, 
to  the  intuition — is  the  transcendental  Schema. 

"6.  Time  is  a  Schema.  It  is  like-in-kind  to  the'concept  in  two  respects, — it 
is  universal  and  rests  upon  a  rule.  It  is  like-in-kind  to  the  phenomenon  in  so  far  as 
it  is  contained  in  every  empirical  representation  of  the  manifold. 

"7.  The  necessity  for  the  Schema  cannot  be  escaped  by  supposing  the  catego- 
ries to  apply  to  thought-objects,  or  to  things-in-themselves.  The  category  must 
apply  to  the  object  given  in  intuition.  In  the  pure  concepts  there  are,  in  addition  to 
the  categorising  activity,  form-conditions  of  the  intuiting  activity.  And  in  these  form- 
conditions  are  contained  the  conditions  that  let  the  category  work  in  the  object. 
This  condition  of  a  category  is  the  Schema  of  this  category. 

"  8.  The  Schema  is  a  product  of  the  power  to  synthetise  into  forms.  It  is  to 
be  distinguished  from  the  image.  The  image  (Bild]  is  the  form  for  objects  ;  the 
Schema  is  the  form  for  concepts. 

' '  9.  The  Schema  is  the  condition  of  the  image.  The  word  '  dog, '  and  the 
words,  '  my  dog,  Jack,'  stand  for  different  processes.  The  one  is  general,  the  other 
particular.  The  power  in  the  general  process  regulates  the  power  in  the  particular 
process.  The  Schema  is  a  transcendental  product  of  the  power  to  synthetise  into 
forms  ;  the  image  is  an  empirical  product.  The  relation  of  a  Schema  to  an  image 
is  much  as  the  relation  of  a  category  to  an  object." 


KANT'S  DOCTRINE  OF  THE  SCHEMATA.  379 


i 


Here  the  doctrine  ends  and  then  follows  a  description  of  the 
schemata  as  related  to  the  categories. 

"a.  Quantity. 

"The  pure  Schema  of  all  quantities  is  number. 
"6.  Reality. 

"  Reality  is  the  quantity  of  something  as  filling  time.  It  is  the  finished 
synthesis.  The  Schema  of  this  finished  synthesis  is  the  synthetising  activity. 
"  c.  Substance. 

"The  Schema  of  substance  is  permanence. 
"  d.   Causation. 

"  The  Schema  of  causation  is  law.  [This  seems  what  Kant  wished  to  say.] 
' '  e.  Reciprocal  Interaction. 

' '  The  Schema  of  the  reciprocal  interaction  of  two  substances  manifest  in 
their  accidents  is  that  the  determination  of  the  accident  be  at  the  same  time 
and  according  to  a  law. 
"f.   Possibility. 

"The  Schema  of  that   which   is  possible  is  that  the  synthesis  of  different 
representations  must  accord  with  the  time-conditions.     [Does  he  not  mean  that 
the  Schema  of  the  possible  is  the  principle  of  contradiction  ?] 
' '  g.   Actuality  ( Wirklichkeit] . 

"  The  Schema  of  the  actual  is  existence  in  a  definite  time. 
"  h.  Necessity. 

"  The  Schema  of  necessity  is  the  existence  of  an  object  continuously." 

Kant  interprets  his  doctrine  in  the  following  way.  The  Schema 
of  the  category,  Quantity,  is  the  synthesis  of  time  itself  in  the  suc- 
cession apprehending  an  object.  The  Schema  of  the  category, 
Quality,  is  the  synthesis  of  the  sensation  with  the  representation  of 
time.  The  Schema  of  the  category,  Relation,  is  the  continuous 
chain  of  perceptions  according  to  a  time-rule.  The  Schema  of  the 
category,  Modality,  is  time  itself.  The  Schemata  are  thus  a  priori 
time-determinations  according  to  a  rule.  They  follow  the  catego- 
ries and  relate  to  the  time-series,  the  time-content,  the  time-order, 
and  the  time-totality.  From  this  it  is  clear  that  the  schematism  of 
the  understanding,  through  the  transcendental  synthesis  of  the 
imagining  power,  is  no  more  than  the  unity  of  all  the  manifold  of 
intuition  in  the  inner  sense.  It  comes  thus  indirectly  to  the  apper- 
ceiving  unity. 

I  wish  to  consider  the  question  of  the  schemata  from  two  points 


380  THE    MONIST. 

of  view.  First,  Is  there  any  such  reality  in  the  world  of  the  mental 
process  as  Kant  indicates?  Second,  Is  his  doctrine  an  adequate 
analysis  of  this  reality? 

In  the  first  place,  Is  there  any  part  of  the  mental  process  we 
may  call  a  Schema?  Professor  Green  says,  No.  The  doctrine  is  a 
"surplusage  of  distinction." 

' '  The  peculiarity  in  Kant's  view  of  the  '  schemata, '  as  a  tertium  quid  between 
the  categories  and  sensible  intuitions,  arises  from  the  separation  which  he  makes 
between  these  as  constituting  severally  the  form  and  the  matter  of  knowledge.' 
(Vol.  II,  p.  35-) 

This  sentence  explains  the  peculiarity  in  Professor  Green's  in- 
terpretation. The  schema  is  not  the  kind  of  tertium  quid  that  Pro- 
fessor Green  imagines.  The  effort  of  Professor  Green  is  to  show 
that  the  category  takes  hold  of  the  material  immediately.  This  is 
Kant's  doctrine  also.  The  schema  is  not  a  bridge  ;  it  is  a  third 
party  that  brings  two  other  people  together.  The  marriage  of  the 
two  people  may  have  been  planned  from  the  foundation  of  the 
world,  but  it  was  also  planned  that -a  third  person  should  bring  them 
together.  Kant  will  admit  the  contention  of  Professor  Green  and 
still  set  forth  his  doctrine  of  the  schematism. 

What  is  a  Schema? 

How  shall  we  explain  the  fact  that  Professor  Green  misses  the 
doctrine  of  Kant?  It  is  due  to  his  point  of  view.  Why  should  a 
point  of  view  play  such  havoc?  What  is  it?  a  category?  an  intui- 
tion? Do  we  not  rather  understand  by  it  the  way  in  which  catego- 
ries are  applied  to  facts?  We  ask  a  man  to  be  careful  of  his  view- 
point. He  does  not  change  his  categories.  He  does  not  get  a  new7 
set  of  facts.  It  is  the  view-point  that  explains  the  new  conclusion. 
I  know  of  no  surer  way  to  the  discovery  of  the  reality  Kant  saw  in 
his  schema,  than  an  attempt  to  explain  the  power  of  the  view-point. 

We  are  told  that  Saul  started  from  Jerusalem  to  Damascus 
upon  a  definite  mission.  He  reached  Damascus  and  did  a  work  the 
exact  opposite  of  that  he  intended.  This  change  is  explained  in 
terms  of  an  experience  along  the  way.  The  change  was  so  profound 
that  the  man  took  a  new  name,  Paul.  The  facts  did  not  change. 
The  categories  did  not  change.  We  say  his  way  of  looking  at  facts 


KANT'S  DOCTRINE  OF  THE  SCHEMATA.  381 

changed.  That  is,  there  was  a  new  condition  for  the  application  of 
the  categories.  This  new  condition  stands  above  the  fact  and  the 
category,  and  determines  the  application.  We  say  it  is  an  experience 
that  determines  a  man's  theology.  There  are  types  of  experience. 
And  a  type  of  experience  is  a  schema. 

Professor  Newton  and  a  wild  pagan  stand  on  a  hill  and  see  the 
eclipse  of  the  sun.  To  the  pagan  the  event  is  the  beginning  of  a 
series  of  horrible  calamities  to  himself  and  his  tribe  ;  to  Professor 
Newton  the  event  brings  the  most  longed-for  experience  of  the  year. 
Are  we  to  explain  the  difference  in  terms  of  a  change  of  facts,  or  of 
categories.  It  will  not  do  to  say  that  one  uses  the  category  of 
causation.  Causation  is  not  a  category,  unless  both  men  use  it. 
The  difference  can  be  explained  only  by  a  series  of  schemata.  Again, 
nature  to  Aristotle  is  not  the  nature  that  Helmholtz  knows.  Aris- 
totle could  see  no  truth  in  the  atomistic  view  of  things.  The  doc- 
trine of  atoms  was  to  him  unnecessary  and  contradictory.  Why 
was  there  no  place  for  an  atom  in  the  thought  of  Aristotle?  Aristotle 
had  no  place  for  change.  It  was  nothing  real.  Ft  was  simply  an 
incident  in  the  transition  from  the  possible  to  the  actual.  When  we 
see  these  two  facts,  we  may  understand  why  it  was  that  physics,  as 
a  science,  was  impossible  until  thought  had  cast  the  forms  of  Aris- 
totle ;  but  this  is  after  all  an  explanation  of  nothing.  This  break 
from  the  control  of  Aristotle,  Lasswitz  has  called  "  der  grosste 
Kampf,  der  auf  dem  Gebiete  der  Erkenntniss  ausgefochten  wurde, 
welcher  im  17.  Jahrhundert  die  aristotelische  Physik  sturzte."  ("Ge- 
schichte  der  Atomistik,"  p.  85.) 

What  were  the  weapons  in  this  royal  battle  of  the  seventeenth 
century?  They  were  neither  facts  nor  categories.  The  question  was, 
how  to  apply  categories  to  facts.  And  the  victory  was  the  victory 
of  one  way  of  categorising  the  facts.  It  was  a  battle  between  the 
schemata, — causality  and  substantiality.  Lasswitz  in  his  great 
work,  "  Geschichte  der  Atomistik,"  p.  78,  says: 

"Die  Entwickelung  der  Physik  als  selbstandiger  Wissenschaft  ist  der  Kampf 
gegen  den  aristotelischen  Begriff  vom  Korper,  die  Emancipation  von  der  Theorie 
der  substanziellen  Formen.  Aber  wissenschaftliche  Begriffe  werden  nicht  plotz- 
lich  durch  die  That  des  Genius  geschaffen  ;  sie  entstehen  durch  allmahliche  Um- 


382  THE  MONIST. 

bildung   der   vorhandenen   Erkenntnissmittel,    durch    Bewusstwerden    bisher    der 
Menschheit  verborgener  Denkmittel." 

Again,  p.  44  : 

"Das  Denkmittel  der  Substantiality  beherrscht  die  gesammte  Metaphysik,  in- 
soweit  sie  vom  Gedankenkreise  Platons  abhangig  ist ;  das  Denkmittel  der  Causalitat 
hat  in  der  modernen  Wissenschaft  seine  Triumphe  gefeiert." 

The  power  of  Aristotle  was  the  power  of  the  schema,  Substan- 
tiality. The  substitution  of  causality,  as  a  schema,  for  substan- 
tiality, was  the  condition  of  the  birth  of  physics. 

Examples  like  this  one,  in  which  a  revolution  is  made,  can  be 
multiplied.  Lasswitz  explains  these  revolutions  as  above  pointed 
out.  One  Denkmittel  is  substituted  for  another.  In  the  study  of 
nature  he  finds  the  Denkmitteln,  Substantiality,  Causalitdt,  Varia- 
bilitdt.  These  Denkmitteln  of  Lasswitz  I  call  schema.  And  a  revo- 
lution in  any  science,  for  example,  the  transition  from  alchemy  to 
chemistry,  is  at  bottom  the  substitution  of  one  schema  for  another. 
If  still  further  evidence  is  needed  to  prove  that  there  is  such  a  reality 
as  Kant  is  analysing,  let  the  reader  consider  this  set  of  facts.  His- 
tory tells  us  that  human  life  grows  by  becoming  more  complex.  At 
one  time  it  is  simple.  One  fact  occupies  its  interest;  the  fact  of 
the  absolute.  Then  the  fact  of  law  is  seen.  Conduct  becomes 
moral,  and  nature  is  orderly.  Men  are  united  and  held  firmly  to- 
gether by  a  creed.  Then  a  state  or  a  church  holds  them.  Nature 
is  first  orderly,  then  mathematical,  then  chemical,  then  geological. 
Human  life  is  static,  corrupt,  progressive.  Let  these  great  facts 
be  explained. 

Let  the  reader  reflect  upon  these  transitions  until  he  gets  the 
cause  of  them.  Human  life  is  moral,  this  moral  life  is  religious, 
this  religious  moral  life  is  first  institutional,  then  individual.  We  see 
in  nature  caprice  ;  then  we  see  mathematics  everywhere.  Is  math- 
emathics,  as  a  method  of  seeing  things,  to  be  explained  in  terms  of 
the  categories?  Is  the  transition  from  the  mathematical  to  the  dy- 
namical way  of  seeing  things  to  be  explained  in  terms  of  the  facts, 
or  the  categories?  It  seems,  then,  that  consciousness  in  its  move- 
ment into  the  complex,  at  every  point  of  its  enlargement,  manifests 
a  reality  not  considered  in  the  analysis  of  Professor  Green.  It  is 


KANT'S  DOCTRINE  OF  THE  SCHEMATA.  383 

not  a  fact,  it  is  not  a  category,  it  is  that  which  determines  the  way 
we  see  things — the  manner  in  which  the  facts  are  categorised.  It  is 
called  a  view-point.  It  is  called  an  experience.  It  is  called  reli- 
gion. It  is  also  called  materialism.  The  name  is  legion  \  the  re- 
ality is  something  that  makes  us  see  things  in  a  given  way.  It  is 
infallible,  but  it  is  not  universal.  The  only  deliverance  is  to  sub- 
stitute a  like  ruler. 

Our  second  point  is  to  ask  if  Kant's  doctrine  is  adequate  to  the 
reality.  There  is  a  schema.  Is  Kant's  analysis  of  it  satisfactory? 
What  is  a  schema?  It  is  that  which  renders  possible  the  applica- 
tion of  a  category  to  a  phenomenon.  Does  the  category  need  any 
such  mediator?  Professor  Green  says,  No.  In  a  general  way,  we 
have  shown  that  there  is  such  a  reality ;  but  let  us  see  it  work  in  a 
mental  process.  The  schema  of  substance,  says  Kant,  is  perma- 
nence. What  does  this  mean? 

Substance,  says  Aristotle,  is  "whatever  may  be  the  cause  of 
being," — "  'the  what'  a  certain  thing  is,  on  the  removal  of  which 
the  whole  is  taken  away"  ("  Metaphysik,"  Bk.  IV,  Ch.  8).  Sub- 
stance for  the  atomist  is  that  which  remains  after  the  last  possible 
division.  (See  "Lasswitz,"  p.  68.) 

Substance  in  the  human  life  is  that  which  persists  forever.  Sub- 
stance in  the  universal  sense  is  that  source  of  all  things — absolutely 
self-contained — in  which  there  is  not  even  "the  shadow  of  a  turn- 
ing." Now  I  understand  Kant  to  say  that  the  condition  of  such  a 
proposition  is  the  schema,  permanence.  That  is,  permanence  is 
that  without  which  substance  cannot  be  thought.  Substance  is,  so 
to  say,  a  definite  permanence.  But  what  is  permanence?  Is  it  any- 
thing else  than  a  concept  ?  Yes,  a  vast  deal  else.  It  is  a  reality 
seen  for  the  first  time  by  the  Hindu.  It  was  Brahma.  It  was  the 
schema  of  the  ascetic  life.  It  was  one  of  the  schemata  of  the  Buddhist 
doctrine  of  Karma.  It  was  one  of  the  schemata  of  law  in  nature. 
It  is  also  a  power  in  the  doctrine  of  institutions.  The  schema  is  the 
seed  that  introduces  the  tree  into  the  earth.  This  is  a  condition  of 
life.  The  mind  declines  to  affirm  that  substance  changes.  It  is  the 
power  of  the  schema.  Its  only  means  of  release  is  to  substitute  evo- 
lution for  permanence.  This  I  understand  to  be  the  point  of  Kant. 


384  THE  MONIST. 

But  does  Kant  appreciate  the  reality  he  saw?  He  begins  by 
saying  that  time  is  a  schema.  Then  comes  a  caution.  He  next  re- 
reminds  us  that  a  schema  is  not  an  image.  Then  he  will  deliver  us 
from  the  dry  and  tedious  analysis  which  the  doctrine  demands, — and 
will  give  a  list  of  schemata,  following  the  table  of  the  categories. 
His  conclusion  is  that  : 

"  Die  Schemata  sind  daher  nichts  als  Zeitbestimmungen  a  priori  nach  Regeln, 
und  diese  gehen  nach  der  Ordnung  der  Kategorien,  auf  die  Zeitreihe,  den  Zeit- 
inhalt,  die  Zeitordnung,  endlich  den  Zeitinbegriff  in  Ansehung  aller  moglichen 
Gegenstande. " 

I  see  nothing  in  this  conclusion  at  all  adequate  to  the  wealth  of 
meaning  in  the  schemata.  Kant  could  not  see  Fichte  and  Hegel 
and  Schopenhauer  in  himself.  He  insisted  that  they  were  not  there. 
History  has  overruled  him.  Kant  did  not  have  the  history  of  thought 
before  him — and  hence  he  could  not  give  his  "dry  and  tedious  anal- 
ysis that  the  doctrine  of  the  schemata  demanded."  The  time  had 
not  come  for  an  Entwickelungsgeschichte  of  the  special  sciences. 
Hence  Kant  could  not  see  the  power  of  the  schema.  But  he  saw 
the  reality.  He  seized  the  fact ;  he  lacked  the  schemata  for  an  ap- 
preciation of  his  discovery.  He  did  not  develop  his  mine.  And 
this  is  our  last  word. 

H.  H.  WILLIAMS. 
UNIVERSITY  OF  NORTH  CAROLINA. 


THE  EXEMPTION  OF  WOMEN  FROM  LABOR. 

THE  very  original  and  somewhat  startling  plea  of  M.  G.  Ferrero 
in  the  January  Monist,  for  the  complete  exemption  of  women 
from  bread-winning  labor  is  worthy  of  the  author's  chivalrous  na- 
ture, and  demands  thoughtful  consideration.  One  naturally  feels 
impelled  to  accept  his  view,  but  such  a  crowd  of  practical  objections 
at  once  arise  that  it  becomes  impossible  to  do  so  except  in  a  very 
restricted  sense.  If  he  only  means  that  women  who  actually  bear 
children  should  be  relieved  from  laborious  physical  activities  during 
their  productive  period,  nobody  certainly  ought  to  dissent,  and  it  is 
to  be  hoped  that  the  world  has  already  got  a  long  distance  on  the 
road  toward  such  a  result.  But  if  he  means  that  one-half  of  the 
human  race  should  be  and  remain,  from  the  standpoint  of  econom- 
ics, non-producers,  except  in  so  far  as  the  rearing  of  children  is  to 
be  considered  productive,  the  position  cannot  be  maintained  with- 
out important  qualification. 

So  far  as  can  be  discovered  from  the  article,  its  author  proceeds 
upon  the  popular  but  erroneous  assumption  that  every  adult  female 
in  society  is  provided  with  a  husband  who  is  both  able  and  willing 
to  supply  all  her  needs.  To  show  how  false  this  assumption  is,  let 
us  glance  for  a  moment  at  the  conjugal  statistics  of  the  United 
States,  which  have  been  compiled  for  the  first  time  in  the  history  of 
the  country  for  the  census  of  1890,  but  not  yet  published.*  These 
statistics  show  that  at  that  date  the  number  of  female  persons  of  all 


*I  am  indebted  for  these  figures  to  Mr.  Henry  Gannett  of  the  Census  Office, 
and  to  the  Hon.  Carroll  D.  Wright,  Superintendent  of  Census,  for  permission  to 
use  them  in  advance  of  official  publication. 


386  THE  MONIST. 

ages  in  the  United  States  was  30,554,370,  of  whom  17,183,988,  or 
56-24  per  cent.,  were  single.  The  important  fact  for  our  present 
purpose  is  the  number  or  percentage  of  marriageable  women  who 
are  in  fact  not  married.  It  is  found  that  about  ten  per  cent,  marry 
before  the  age  of  twenty,  and  a  very  few  before  the  age  of  fifteen. 
As  the  statistics  are  compiled  in  five-year  periods,  it  is  impossible 
to  obtain  figures  for  any  age  between  fifteen  and  twenty,  although 
proper  marriageability  begins  at  about  seventeen  or  eighteen.  If 
we  take  twenty  as  the  basis,  it  appears  that  there  were  16,293,326 
female  persons  of  twenty  years  of  age  and  upward  of  whom  3,228,- 
338  were  unmarried,  which  is  nearly  20  per  cent.  If  we  take  fifteen 
as  the  basis,  the  number  of  that  age  and  upwards  was  19,602,178, 
of  whom  6,233,207  were  unmarried,  or  nearly  32  per  cent.  The 
true  mean  is  somewhere  between  these  and  may  perhaps  be  safely 
put  at  25  per  cent.  The  unmarried  are  made  up  of  maids,  widows, 
and  divorced  persons,  the  last  of  which  classes  is  so  small  that  it 
need  scarcely  be  considered  for  the  present  purpose.  Omitting  the 
actual  numbers  and  using  percentages  only,  the  returns  show  that 
between  the  ages  of  twenty  and  twenty-five  about  53  per  cent,  were 
without  husbands,  between  twenty-five  and  thirty  about  28  per  cent., 
between  thirty  and  forty-five  about  20  per  cent.  After  this  the  num- 
ber of  widows  increases  so  rapidly  that  from  forty-five  to  fifty-five 
the  unmarried  amount  to  26  per  cent.,  and  of  women  over  sixty-five 
years  of  age  only  a  little  over  35  per  cent,  have  husbands.  Nearly 
six  per  cent,  of  all  women  never  marry;  about  ten  per  cent,  of  those 
between  the  ages  of  thirty-five  and  forty-five  had  not  yet  married, 
and  more  than  one-fourth  of  those  between  the  ages  of  twenty-five 
and  thirty  were  still  unmarried.  Further  details  are  unnecessary, 
enough  having  been  said  to  show  how  large  a  proportion  of  mar- 
riageable women  are  for  one  cause  or  another  without  that  male 
protection  and  support  that  M.  Ferrero's  argument  assumes. 

Many  of  these  unattached  women  are  doubtless  cared  for  in 
varying  degrees  by  other  male  relatives,  but  it  is  clear  that  this 
ought  not  to  be,  since  the  men,  on  his  theory,  should  have  wives 
and  families  of  their  own.  Ignoring,  for  the  sake  of  the  argument, 
the  large  number  of  cases  in  which  the  husband  proves  incompetent 


THE   EXEMPTION  OF  WOMEN  FROM  LABOR.  387 

to  support  his  family,  and  admitting  that  the  75  per  cent,  who  have 
husbands  are  adequately  provided  with  occupation  in  rearing  their 
children,  or,  if  childless,  as  a  large  proportion  always  are,  in  merely 
attending  to  the  wants  of  their  husbands,  what  shall  be  said  of  the 
25  per  cent,  who  have  no  husbands  and  are  therefore  deprived  of 
this  occupation  ?  A  considerable  number  of  the  younger  widows,  it 
is  true,  have  families  on  their  hands,  but  these  soon  grow  up  and 
no  longer  require  their  attention.  But  if  the  wife  is  incapable  of 
any  form  of  productive  labor,  when  she  becomes  a  widow,  and  the 
support  of  her  family  devolves  upon  her  alone,  she  is  in  an  unfor- 
tunate position.  Something  more  must  be  done  than  merely  to 
nurse  and  protect  her  children.  They  must  be  fed,  clothed,  and 
housed. 

M.  Ferrero  quotes,  and  quotes  correctly,  the  economic  law,  or 
"paradox,"*  as  I  have  called  it,  that  female  labor  "tends  to  lower 
the  marketable  value  of  male  labor."  It  has  been  proved  that  a 
man  and  his  wife  working  in  a  factory  only  earn  the  same  that  the 
man  would  earn  working  alone.  This  gives  rise  to  one  of  those 
economic  fallacies  which  it  is  found  so  hard  to  dislodge.  It  is  akin 
to  the  fallacy  that  machinery  should  be  discouraged  because  it 
throws  the  laborer  out  of  employment.  It  overlooks  the  broader 
truth  that  two  laborers  must  produce  more  than  one.  It  proceeds 
from  the  pessimistic  point  of  view  that  economic  conditions  must 
always  be  such  that  some  one  besides  the  laborer  will  take  all  the 
product  except  just  enough  to  keep  him  alive.  I  am  far  from  ad- 
vocating the  increase  of  female  factory  labor,  but  such  labor  with 
prompt  and  certain  wages  is  often  preferred  by  women  to  the  cease- 
less toil  of  farm  and  dairy  life,  with  the  uncertainty  of  crops  and 
markets.  The  whole  economic  argument  of  Ferrero  applies  as  well 
to  men  as  to  women.  The  real  need  is  a  great  reduction  in  both  the 
amount  and  the  irksomeness  of  all  labor,  a  greater  resort  to  natural 
forces  through  invention  and  labor-saving  machinery,  accompanied, 
as  it  will  be  if  the  embargo  upon  distribution  can  ever  be  removed, 
by  a  greatly  increased  production,  so  that  both  sexes  may  perform 

*  The  Psychic  Factors  of  Civilisation,  p.  279. 


388  THE  MONIST. 

only  agreeable  labor,  may  enjoy  ample  leisure,  and  at  the  same 
time  may  possess  most  of  those  material  blessings  which  are  requi- 
site to  the  highest  physical  and  spiritual  well-being. 

It  could  be  successfully  contended  that  a  certain  amount  of 
productive  labor,  or,  at  least,  of  both  physical  and  mental  activity 
associated  with  the  satisfaction  of  natural  wants,  is  necessary,  not 
only  to  health,  but  also  to  happiness,  and  this  quite  irrespective  of 
sex.  It  might  also  be  satisfactorily  proved  that  in  the  present  state 
of  society,  for  all  except  the  very  poor,  it  would  be  better  to  equal- 
ise to  some  extent  the  nature  of  the  activities  of  the  two  sexes, 
rather  than  still  farther  to  divorce  them.  While  there  is  no  doubt 
that  the  sterner  sex  should  perform  the  sterner  duties,  the  prevailing 
notion  that  woman  is  made  to  remain  forever  indoors  and  inactive 
is,  to  say  the  least,  extremely  irrational  and  unhygienic. 

Finally,  what  shall  be  said  of  the  large  and  constantly  increas- 
ing class  of  productive  businesses  which  only  involve  manual  exer- 
tion to  a  limited  extent  and  largely  consist  in  the  exercise  of  various 
mental  aptitudes?  Take  teaching  as  an  example.  Shall  women  be 
excluded  from  such  fields?  Shall  society  lose  the  benefits  which  the 
peculiarities  of  the  female  mind  enable  women  to  confer  in  many  of 
these  employments,  where  men  are  less  efficient  ?  No  doubt  there 
should  be  a  considerable  readjustment  of  the  duties  of  the  two  sexes, 
and  this  seems  to  be  in  process  of  accomplishment  in  the  natural 
course  of  things.  The  division  of  labor  of  which  M.  Ferrero  speaks 
must  go  much  farther  than  he  intimates.  He  would  confine  it  to 
one  class  of  female  labor,  that  of  rearing  families  and  gracing  homes. 
While,  so  long  as  nature  remains  what  it  is,  the  majority  of  women 
will  continue  to  perform  that  chief  function,  there  is  and  always  will 
be  a  minority  more  or  less  large  and  respectable  who  must  perform 
other  functions  to  which  the  sex  shall  prove  itself  adapted.  And 
the  question  will  even  arise  whether  the  domestic  function  is  always 
to  be  considered  sufficient  to  fill  the  whole  life  of  woman.  Wives 
and  mothers  are  often  endowed  not  only  with  aspirations  beyond  it 
but  with  powers  and  talents  that  demand  an  opportunity  for  their 
exercise.  Such  cases  are  destined  to  multiply  with  the  upward  ten- 
dency of  society.  Indeed,  a  division  of  labor  is  beginning  to  be 


THE  EXEMPTION  OF  WOMEN  FROM  LABOR.  389 

called  for  just  here.  It  is  found  that  without  diminishing  the  effi- 
ciency of  the  domestic  function  or  detracting  from  the  emotional 
side  of  maternal  life,  much  of  the  arduous  part  of  home  duty  can  be 
delegated  by  intelligent  mothers  to  those  who  can  do  nothing  higher, 
thus  relieving  the  former  from  harassing  occupations  which  lower 
rather  than  elevate  their  nature,  and  enabling  them  to  attend  to  a 
nobler  class  of  duties,  such  as  education,  charity  work,  social  accom- 
plishment, self-culture,  or  even  authorship. 

M.  Ferrero  does  not  say  whether  he  would  educate  women  or 
whether,  like  Rousseau,  he  would  leave  them  to  grow  up  under  the 
influence  of  nature,  but  as  education  involves  work  on  the  part  of 
the  learner  as  well  as  of  the  teacher,  it  is  to  be  inferred  that  he 
favors  the  latter  regime.  He  speaks  of  beauty  and  grace  as  the  chief 
charms  of  the  sex,  and  hence  the  principal  ends  to  be  secured  by 
exemption  from  work.  He  seems  to  refer  to  mere  physical  beauty 
and  to  ignore  that  higher  beauty  which  beams  from  the  intelligent 
eye  and  makes  one  quite  forget  that  it  may  be  set  in  a  plain  face: 
While  it  cannot  be  denied,  as  he  points  out,  that  ease  and  freedom 
from  care  produce  symmetry  and  conserve  beauty  and  grace,  there 
will  nevertheless  always  be  plain  women,  and  unless  these  possess 
something  besides  their  "looks"  to  recommend  them  their  chances 
of  securing  partners  in  life  will  be  small.  Moreover,  that  form  of 
beauty  which  is  purely  physical  is  of  short  duration.  It  fades  early, 
and  the  comeliest  girl  becomes  a  plain  woman,  or,  when  old,  it  may 
be,  altogether  ugly.  But  that  form  of  beauty  which  is  based  on  in- 
telligence not  only  does  not  fade,  but  even  increases  with  maturity. 
The  first  wrinkles  only  serve  to  give  it  strength,  and  it  is  at  its  high- 
est when  the  radiant  countenance  shines  forth  under  silvery  hairs. 
The  female  child  of  nature  is  a  wax  doll,  pretty  to  play  with  for  a 
time  and  then  ,put  aside.  The  enlightened  woman  becomes  the 
equal  and  companion  of  man,  of  whose  society  he  can  never  tire. 
As  man  rises  in  the  intellectual  scale  he  demands  more  and  more 
this  substantial  companionship  of  a  wife.  There  will  be  a  few  cases, 
as  our  author  states  in  a  previous  article,*  "  of  a  savant  marrying  a 

*  The  Monist  for  January,  1893,  p.  232. 


39°  THE  MONIST. 

stupid,  unintelligent  wife,"  but  these  will  grow  rarer,  and  unless 
something  is  done  to  even  up  the  sexes  on  the  score  of  attainment, 
the  number  of  unmarried  is  likely  to  increase.  It  was  strongly  main- 
tained for  a  time  that  there  was  an  antagonism  between  mental  and 
physical  development  in  women,  and  serious  opposition  was  raised 
to  giving  girls  a  higher  education,  but  at  length  statistics  were  ap- 
pealed to  and  the  objection  was  found  to  be  a  purely  theoretical 
one.* 

The  article  of  M.  Ferrero  would  have  interested  me  very  little 
had  he  not  professed  to  support  his  views  with  quite  an  array  of 
facts  from  biology,  which  is  the  standpoint  from  which  I  have  been 
in  the  habit  of  looking  at  such  questions.  Nothing  is  clearer  than 
that  man  should  be  primarily  studied  as  an  animal,  and  every  at- 
tempt to  treat  anthropological  questions  from  a  biological  stand- 
point should  be  encouraged.  But  unfortunately  thus  far  nearly  every 
such  attempt  has  resulted  in  a  complete  failure  to  make  the  proper 
application  of  the  facts  which  biology  furnishes.  The  fundamental 
fallacy,  which  I  have  written  an  entire  volume  to  point  out,  is  that 
of  ignoring  the  psychic  factor  in  man,  i.  e.,  of  treating  man  only  as 
an  animal.  Ferrero  has  not  escaped  this  fallacy,  and  his  undisci- 
plined race  of  idle  women  would  be  little  else  than  so  many  half- 
tamed  animals  let  loose  in  society.  But  there  are  other  fallacies 
which  he,  in  common  with  most  others  who  have  approached  the 
subject  from  that  side,  has  been  led  into.  The  most  important  of 
these  is  his  failure  to  understand  the  full  meaning  of  sexual  selection 
and  the  consequent  sexual  history  of  the  animal  kingdom.  I  have 
on  several  former  occasionsf  endeavored  to  set  forth  this  history  in 
its  broader  outlines,  and  I  need  not  re-elaborate  it  here.  It  will  be 


*"  Health  Statistics  of  Female  College  Graduates,"  being  Part  V  (pp.  471- 
532)  of  the  Sixteenth  Annual  Report  of  the  Bureau  of  Statistics  of  Labor  of  Mass a- 
chusetts,  August,  1885,  by  Carroll  D.  Wright,  Chief  of  Bureau,  Boston,  1885.  I 
am  indebted  to  the  Hon.  Carroll  D.  Wright,  U.  S.  Commissioner  of  Labor  and 
Superintendent  of  Census,  for  kindly  calling  my  attention  to  this  important  report 
and  placing  the  volume  in  my  hands. 

f  The  Forum,  Vol.  VI,  New  York,  November,  1888,  pp.  266-275  ;  Proceedings 
of  the  Biological  Society  of  Washington,  Vol.  V,  Washington,  1890,  pp.  40,  41  ;  The 
Psychic  Factors  of  Civilisation,  Boston,  1893,  pp.  86-89. 


THE   EXEMPTION  OF  WOMEN  FROM  LABOR.  391 

more  profitable  to  consider  certain  of  Ferrero's  illustrations  in  the 
light  of  it.  He  maintains  that  throughout  the  higher  forms  of  animal 
life  there  is  a  division  of  labor  between  the  sexes  whereby  the  male 
•assists  in  the  maintenance  of  the  female,  and  argues  that  this  is  the 
secret  of  the  greater  longevity  of  such  animals,  while  the  often  brief 
existence  of  lower  forms  is  due  to  the  lack  of  such  a  division  of  labor. 
He  shows  that  in  some  birds  there  is  a  form  of  marriage  and  true 
co-operation  of  the  sexes,  and  says  that  "the  lion  and  the  hyena, 
during  mating-time,  hunt  only  to  provide  food  for  the  female,  who 
remains  passive,"  and  that  "in  the  monogamic  and  polygamic  fam- 
ilies of  monkeys  it  is  always  the  male  or  chief  who  guides  the  troop, 
who  watches  for  the  enemy,  who  opens  the  march,  who  advances 
courageously  upon  the  adversary  that  threatens  his  family,  while  the 
female  climbs  the  trees."  It  would  be  strange  if  a  few  such  cases 
did  not  exist  where  the  very  survival  of  the  species  depends  upon 
the  development  of  this  instinct,  but,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  they  are 
rare  even  among  the  higher  types.  In  the  great  majority  of  cases 
the  female,  in  addition  to  her  maternal  sacrifices,  not  only  provides 
for  the  nourishment  of  herself  and  offspring  but  also  fights  in  their 
defence,  while  the  male  remains  passive  except  when  he  is  fighting 
his  rivals  for  her  attentions.  I  doubt  the  statement  respecting  the 
lion,  for  lion  hunters  learn  by  experience  that  the  male  is  little  to 
be  feared,  and  even  assert  that  he  is  a  coward,  while  they  equally 
learn  to  beware  of  the  lioness,  especially  when  her  whelps  are 
with  her.  Even  Tartarin  de  Tarascon  had  learned  this  before  he 
started  on  his  grande  chasse,  and  his  only  dread  was  lest  he  should 
encounter  la  femelle.  It  is  the  same  with  bears  and  most  wild  beasts. 
The  males  direct  their  prowess  and  confine  their  exertions  chiefly 
to  fighting  off  rival  males  of  their  own  species,  which  contributes 
nothing  to  the  support  or  protection  of  the  "family."  The  barn- 
yard cock  is  often  seen  to  call  the  hens  to  a  store  of  food,  but  these 
chivalrous  attentions,  like  many  human  ones,  are  only  paid  to  those 
that  are  least  in  need  of  them,  and  always  have  reference  to  a  quid 
pro  quo.  He  is  never  found  following  the  old  mother  with  her  brood. 
She  must  scratch  for  herself  and  her  chickens  too.  Many  ungulates 
are  highly  polygamous  owing  to  the  fierce  warfare  of  the  males  for 


3Q2  THE  M  ONI  ST. 

the  possession  of  the  females.  "  In  our  own  country,"  says  Dr.  C. 
Hart  Merriam  in  an  unpublished  report,  "the  elk  and  the  buffalo 
are  notorious  examples  of  polygamous  animals,  single  bulls  possess- 
ing large  harems  which  they  defend  with  most  jealous  vigilance  at 
the  cost  of  many  bloody  battles."  It  is  also  well  known  that  among 
the  latter  of  these  animals  at  least  there  are  to  be  found  separate 
herds  or  groups  of  vanquished  "bachelor"  bulls  that  are  not  allowed 
to  remain  with  the  cows.  This  is  certainly  a  poor  way  for  the  males 
to  care  for  the  females.  One  of  the  charges  against  polygamy  among 
human  beings  is  that  it  necessarily  forces  the  women  to  perform  ex- 
cessive labor  and  drudgery,  and  if  animals  are  capable  of  doing  any- 
thing for  one  another  it  must  be  the  same  with  them.  A  still  more 
extreme  case  is  that  of  the  fur  seals.  "The  male,"  says  Krasche- 
ninikow,*  "has  from  eight  to  fifteen,  and  even  sometimes  fifty  fe- 
males, whom  he  guards  with  such  jealousy  that  he  does  not  allow 
any  other  to  come  near  his  mistresses  :  and  though  many  thousands 
of  them  lie  upon  the  same  shore,  yet  every  family  keeps  apart ;  that 
is,  the  male  with  his  wives,  young  ones,  and  those  of  a  year  old, 
which  have  not  yet  attached  themselves  to  any  male  ;  so  that  some- 
times the  family  consists  of  one  hundred  and  twenty."  This  state- 
ment made  a  century  and  more  ago  has  been  abundantly  confirmed 
by  later  observations  as  recorded  in  Dr.  Allen's  work  and  still  more 
fully  by  Dr.  Merriam,  who,  as  Bering  Sea  Commissioner,  has  re- 
cently enjoyed  exceptional  opportunities  for  studying  the  habits  of 
these  animals.  Here  also  the  bachelors,  or  "  holluschukies  "  live 
apart,  sometimes  occupying  separate  islands,  f 

Any  required  number  of  facts  might  be  adduced  to  show  that 
nature  makes  scarcely  any  provision  for  the  care  and  sustenance  of 
the  female  and  young  even  of  the  higher  animals,  and  that  male  su- 
periority here  is  simply  the  result  of  sexual  selection,  by  which  those 
qualities  are  developed  in  the  male  sex  which  are  most  admired  by 
the  females,  among  which,  as  to  so  large  an  extent  in  the  human 

*  Quoted  by  Dr.  J.  A.  Allen  in  his  History  of  North  American  Pinnipeds,  Wash- 
ington, 1880,  p.  341-342. 

f  Report  of  Dr.  C.  Hart  Merriam  in  the  Fur-Seal  Arbitration  Case  of  the 
United  States,  1892. 


THE   EXEMPTION  OF  WOMEN  FROM  LABOR.  393 

race,  what  may  be  called  moral  qualities,  those  that  would  most 
benefit  the  species,  play  an  exceedingly  restricted  role. 

Ferrero's  examples  among  the  lower,  invertebrate  types  are  un- 
fortunate for  his  position.  In  bees  and  the  like  the  male  is  literally 
a  "drone  "  and  devotes  his  brief  existence  wholly  to  the  Minnedienst; 
and  while  in  other  insects  that  he  enumerates  the  female  psyche  has 
a  sufficiently  brief  career,  that  of  the  male  is  still  further  curtailed, 
many  male  insects  taking  no  nourishment  at  all  and  even  lacking 
the  organs  for  this  purpose.  It  is  a  strained  argument  to  attempt 
to  show  that  this  brevity  of  the  imago  state  in  insects  is  due  to  a 
lack  of  division  of  labor  between  the  sexes.  It  proves  a  great  deal 
too  much,  since  many  fishes  are  equally  without  provision  of  sexual 
co-operation,  and  yet  they  have  somewhat  extended  lives.  But 
most  insects  pass  the  greater  part  of  their  lives  in  the  larval  state 
which  is  often  much  prolonged  as,  for  example,  in  the  seventeen-year 
locust  or  cicada.  Weismann  has  offered  the  only  satisfactory  ex- 
planation of  the  apparent  anomalies  in  the  duration  of  life  in  ani- 
mals, and  Ferrero  would  do  well  to  consider  this  more  carefully  than 
he  seems  to  have  done.  All  the  facts  that  he  advances,  while  they 
have  no  bearing  on  the  theory  he  is  defending,  go  to  support  the 
law  of  normal  female  supremacy  in  nature  as  it  prevails  in  the  lower 
types  and  the  subsequent  reversal  of  that  law  by  the  stronger  one 
of  sexual  selection  operating  in  the  higher  types  in  which  the  psychic 
element  has  gained  prominence. 

On  Ferrero's  theory  the  bad  treatment  of  women  by  savages 
constitutes  an  anomaly  in  the  general  course  of  development.  If 
the  higher  male  animals  all  worked  for  their  females  and  offspring, 
supplying  them  with  food  and  shelter  and  defending  them  from  their 
enemies,  while  the  females  did  nothing  but  bear  and  suckle  their 
young,  there  certainly  would  be  a  marked  contrast  between  their 
case  and  that  of  the  savages,  among  whom,  in  most  cases,  it  is  the 
women  who  do  all  the  drudgery  work  and  in  many  cases  supply  the 
tribe  with  most  of  the  necessaries  of  life,  while  the  men  fight  one 
another  and  other  tribes,  or  hunt  as  much  for  pleasure  as  for  meat, 
or  lounge  around  the  camp  eating  the  food  prepared  by  the  women 
whom  they  do  not  allow  to  eat  with  them.  But,  properly  viewed, 


394  THE  MONIST. 

there  is  no  anomaly  in  savage  life.  Among  animals  there  is  very 
little  provision  in  the  proper  sense.  Many,  it  is  true,  have  acquired 
through  natural  selection  the  instinct  of  storing  food,  which  is  usually 
done  by  both  sexes.  Indeed,  the  most  remarkable  cases  of  this  are 
among  insects  such  as  bees,  where  a  specialised  race  of  "workers" 
has  been  developed.  Still  more  remarkable  and  opposed  to  Fer- 
rero's  theory,  these  workers  are  females  that  have  lost  their  repro- 
ductive powers,  though,  as  pointed  out  by  Herbert  Spencer  in  his 
last  rejoinder  to  Weismann,*  there  are  not  only  intermediate  forms 
to  some  extent  even  now,  but  as  this  condition  has  been  the  result 
of  slow  development,  there  must  have  once  been  all  possible  grada- 
tions. That  is  to  say,  queens  are  transformed  into  neuters,  and  it 
is  the  females  that  do  the  work.  In  the  higher  forms,  as  I  have 
shown,  in  so  far  as  there  is  work  to  do,  the  females  do  their  full 
share,  usually  much  more  than  their  share.  The  transition  from  the 
animal  to  the  savage  state  in  this  respect  is  very  slight,  and  the 
savage  only  represents  a  prolongation  of  the  animal  state.  The 
anomaly  is  not  here.  It  is  located  farther  back.  The  whole  upper 
part  of  the  animal  series  may  be  regarded  as  anomalous,  and  the 
anomaly  is  a  radical  one,  since  it  represents  a  change  from  normal 
female  superiority  to  abnormal  male  superiority,  a  change  brought 
about  by  the  females  themselves  through  sexual  selection,  whereby 
they  have  surrendered  their  sceptre  and  bartered  their  empire  for  an 
aesthetic  gratification.  To  some  this  may  seem  a  degeneracy,  but 
few  would  wish  wholly  to  restore  the  Amazonian  regime. 

The  effort  of  a  fully  self-conscious  intelligence  as  it  exists  in  the 
most  enlightened  types  of  mankind  is  to  preserve  all  that  is  best  in 
woman,  to  heighten  to  the  utmost  that  aesthetic  attribute  through 
which  she  has  ennobled  man  and  made  him  what  he  is.  It  is  no 
longer  woman  who  selects.  From  the  earliest  historic  period  at 
least  man  too  has  been  exercising  choice,  and  female  beauty  as  it 
now  expresses  itself  in  woman  is  the  result.  But  the  progress  of 
civilisation  has  wrought  a  change  in  the  aesthetic  tastes  of  mankind, 
and  while  physical  beauty  has  lost  none  of  its  charm,  moral  and  in- 

*  Contemporary  Review  for  January,  1894. 


THE  EXEMPTION   OF  WOMEN  FROM  LABOR.  395 

tellectual  beauty  have  come  to  hold  the  first  place,  and  true  com- 
panionship can  only  be  found  in  the  harmonious  union  of  these 
three.  Such  a  combination  in  woman  can  only  be  secured  through 
a  life  of  interested  activity  which  unites  the  exercise  of  all  the  facul- 
ties with  the  acquirement  of  both  knowledge  and  the  good  things  of 
this  world.  Agreeable  productive  labor  is  the  highest  and  only  true 
source  of  happiness  and  worth,  whether  for  man  or  woman. 

LESTER  F.  WARD. 
WASHINGTON,  D.  C. 


NOTION  AND  DEFINITION  OF  NUMBER. 

IV  yfANY  essays  have  been  written  on  the  definition  of  number. 
-LVJ.  But  most  of  them  contain  too  many  technical  expressions, 
philosophical  and  mathematical,  to  meet  the  taste  of  the  non-mathe- 
matician. The  clearest  idea  of  what  counting  and  numbers  mean  may 
be  gained  from  the  observation  of  children  and  of  nations  in  the 
childhood  of  civilisation.  When  children  count  or  add,  they  use 
either  their  fingers,  or  small  sticks  of  wood,  or  pebbles,  or  similar 
things,  which  they  separately  adjoin  to  the  things  to  be  counted  or 
otherwise  ordinally  associate  with  them.  As  we  know  from  history, 
the  Romans  and  Greeks  employed  their  fingers  when  they  counted 
or  added.  And  even  to-day  we  frequently  meet  with  people  to  whom 
the  use  of  the  fingers  is  absolutely  indispensable  for  computation. 

Still  better  proof  that  the  accurate  association  of  such  "other" 
things  with  the  things  to  be  counted  is  the  essential  element  of  nu- 
meration are  the  tales  of  travellers  in  Africa,  telling  us  how  African 
tribes  sometimes  inform  friendly  nations  of  the  number  of  the  enemies 
who  have  invaded  their  domain.  The  conveyance  of  the  informa- 
tion is  effected  not  by  messengers,  but  simply  by  placing  at  spots 
selected  for  the  purpose  a  number  of  stones  exactly  equal  to  the 
number  of  the  invaders.  No  one  will  deny  that  the  number  of  the 
tribe's  foes  is  thus  communicated,  even  though  no  name  exists  for 
this  number  in  the  languages  of  the  tribes.  The  reason  why  the 
fingers  are  so  universally  employed  as  a  means  of  numeration  is, 
that  every  one  possesses  a  definite  number  of  fingers,  sufficiently 
large  for  purposes  of  computation  and  that  they  are  always  at  hand. 

Besides  this  first  and  chief  element  of  numeration  which,  as  we 


NOTION  AND  DEFINITION  OF  NUMBER.  397 

have  seen,  is  the  exact,  individual  conjunction  or  association  of  other 
things  with  the  things  to  be  counted,  is  to  be  mentioned  a  second 
important  element,  which  in  some  respects  perhaps  is  not  so  abso- 
lutely essential,  namely,  that  the  things  to  be  counted  shall  be  re- 
garded as  of  the  same  kind  ;  thus,  any  one  who  subjects  apples  and 
nuts  collectively  to  a  process  of  numeration  will  regard  them  for  the 
time  being  as  objects  of  the  same  kind,  perhaps,  by  subsuming  them 
under  the  common  notion  of  fruit.  We  may  therefore  lay  down  pro- 
visionally the  following  as  a  definition  of  counting  :  to  count  a  group 
of  things  is  to  regard  the  things  as  the  same  in  kind  and  to  associate 
ordinally,  accurately,  and  singly  with  them  other  things.  In  writing, 
we  associate  with  the  things  to  be  counted  simple  signs,  like  points, 
strokes,  or  circles.  The  form  of  the  symbols  we  use  is  indifferent. 
Neither  need  they  be  uniform.  It  is  also  indifferent  what  the  spa- 
tial relations  or  dispositions  of  these  symbols  are.  Although,  of 
course,  it  is  much  more  convenient  and  simpler  to  fashion  symbols 
growing  out  of  operations  of  counting  on  principles  of  uniformity 
and  to  place  them  spatially  near  each  other.  In  this  manner  are 
produced  what  I  have  called  *  natural  number-pictures  ;  for  ex- 
ample, 


etc. 


Now-a-days  such  natural  number-pictures  are  rarely  employed,  and 
are  to  be  seen  only  on  dominoes,  dice,  and  sometimes,  also,  on  play- 
ing-cards. 

It  can  be  shown  by  archaeological  evidence  that  originally  nu- 
meral writing  was  made  up  wholly  of  natural  number-pictures.  For 
example,  the  Romans  in  early  times  represented  all  numbers,  which 
were  written  at  all,  by  assemblages  of  strokes.  We  have  remnants 
of  this  writing  in  the  first  three  numerals  of  the  modern  Roman  sys- 
tem. If  we  needed  additional  evidence  that  the  Romans  originally 
employed  natural  number-signs,  we  might  cite  the  passage  in  Livy 
VII,  3,  where  we  are  told,  that,  in  accordance  with  a  very  ancient 
law,  a  nail  was  annually  driven  into  a  certain  spot  in  the  sanctuary  of 

*  System  tier  Arithmetik.     (Potsdam  :   Aug.  Stein.      1885.) 


398  THE  MONIST. 

Minerva,  the  "inventrix"  of  counting,  for  the  purpose  of  showing  the 
number  of  years  which  had  elapsed  since  the  building  of  the  edifice. 
We  learn  from  the  same  source  that  also  in  the  temple  at  Volsinii 
nails  were  shown  which  the  Etruscans  had  placed  there  as  marks  for 
the  number  of  years. 

Also  recent  researches  in  the  civilisation  of  ancient  Mexico  show 
that  natural  number-pictures  were  the  first  stage  of  numeral  nota- 
tion. Whosoever  has  carefully  studied  in  any  large  ethnographical 
collection  the  monuments  of  ancient  Mexico,  will  surely  have  re- 
marked that  the  nations  which  inhabited  Mexico  before  its  conquest 
by  the  Spaniards,  possessed  natural  number-signs  for  all  numbers 
from  one  to  nineteen,  which  they  formed  by  combinations  of  circles. 
If  in  our  studies  of  the  past  of  modern  civilised  peoples,  we  meet 
with  natural  number-pictures  only  among  the  Greeks  or  Romans, 
and  some  Oriental  nations,  the  reason  is  that  the  other  nations,  as  the 
Germans,  before  they  came  into  contact  with  the  Romans  and  adopted 
the  more  highly  developed  notation  of  the  latter,  were  not  yet  suffi- 
ciently advanced  in  civilisation  to  feel  any  need  of  expressing  num- 
bers symbolically.  But  since  the  most  perfect  of  all  systems  of  nu- 
meration, the  Hindu  system  of  "local  value,"  was  introduced  and 
adopted  in  Europe  in  the  twelfth  century,  the  Roman  numeral  sys- 
tem gradually  disappeared,  at  least  from  practical  computation,  and 
at  present  we  are  only  reminded  by  the  Roman  characters  of  inscrip- 
tions of  the  first  and  primitive  stage  of  all  numeral  notation.  To- 
day we  see  natural  number-pictures,  except  in  the  above-mentioned 
games,  only  very  rarely,  as  where  the  tally-men  of  wharves  or  ware- 
houses make  single  strokes  with  a  pencil  or  a  piece  of  chalk,  one  for 
each  bale  or  sack  which  is  counted. 

As  in  writing  it  is  of  consequence  to  associate  with  each  of  the 
things  to  be  counted  some  simple  sign,  so  in  speaking  it  is  of  con- 
sequence to  utter  for  each  single  thing  counted  some  short  sound. 
It  is  quite  indifferent  here  what  this  sound  is  called,  also,  whether 
the  sounds  which  are  associated  with  the  things  to  be  counted  are 
the  same  in  kind  or  not,  and  finally,  whether  they  are  uttered  at 
equal  or  unequal  intervals  of  time.  Yet  it  is  more  convenient  and 
simpler  to  employ  the  same  sound  and  to  observe  equal  intervals  in 


NOTION  AND  DEFINITION  OF  NUMBER.  399 

their  utterance.    We  arrive  thus  at  natural  number-words.     For  ex- 
ample, utterances  like, 

oh,  oh-oh,  oh-oh-oh,  oh-oh-oh-oh,  oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, 
are  natural  number-words  for  the  numbers  from  one  to  five.  Num- 
ber-words of  this  description  are  not  now  to  be  found  in  any  known 
language.  And  yet  we  hear  such  natural  number-words  constantly, 
every  day  and  night  of  our  lives ;  the  only  difference  being  that  the 
speakers  are  not  human  beings  but  machines — namely,  the  striking- 
apparatus  of  our  clocks. 

Word-forms  of  the  kind  described  are  too  inconvenient,  how- 
ever, for  use  in  language,  not  only  for  the  speaker,  on  account  of 
their  ultimate  length,  but  also  for  the  hearer,  who  must  be  constantly 
on  the  qui  vive  lest  he  misunderstand  a  numeral  word  so  formed.  It 
has  thus  come  about  that  the  languages  of  men  from  time  imme- 
morial have  possessed  numeral  words  which  exhibit  no  trace  of  the 
original  idea  of  single  association.  But  if  we  should  always  select 
for  every  new  numeral  word  some  new  and  special  verbal  root,  we 
should  find  ourselves  in  possession  of  an  inordinately  large  number 
of  roots,  and  too  severely  tax  our  powers  of  memory.  Accordingly, 
the  languages  of  both  civilised  and  uncivilised  peoples  always  con- 
struct their  words  for  larger  numbers  from  words  for  smaller  num- 
bers. What  number  we  shall  begin  with  in  the  formation  of  com- 
pound numeral  words  is  quite  indifferent,  so  far  as  the  idea  of  num- 
ber itself  is  concerned.  Yet  we  find,  nevertheless,  in  nearly  all 
languages  one  and  the  same  number  taken  as  the  first  station  in  the 
formation  of  compound  numeral  words,  and  this  number  is  ten. 
Chinese  and  Latins,  Fins  and  Malays,  that  is,  peoples  who  have  no 
linguistic  relationship,  all  exhibit  in  the  formation  of  numeral  words 
the  similarity  of  beginning  with  the  number  ten  the  formation  of 
compound  numerals.  No  other  reason  can  be  found  for  this  striking 
agreement  than  the  fact  that  all  the  forefathers  of  these  nations  pos- 
sessed ten  fingers. 

Granting  it  were  impossible  to  prove  in  any  other  way  that 
people  originally  used  their  fingers  in  reckoning,  the  conclusion 
could  be  inferred  with  sufficient  certainty  solely  from  this  agreement 
with  regard  to  the  first  resting-point  in  the  formation  of  compound 


400  THE  MONIST. 

numerals  among  the  most  various  races.  In  the  Indo-Germanic 
tongues  the  numeral  words  from  ten  to  ninety-nine  are  formed  by 
composition  from  smaller  numeral  words.  Two  methods  remain 
for  continuing  the  formation  of  the  numerals  :  either  we  take  a  new 
root  as  our  basis  of  composition  (hundred)  or  we  go  on  counting 
from  ninety-nine,  saying  tenty,  eleventy,  etc.  If  we  were  logically 
to  follow  out  this  second  method  we  should  get  tenty-ty  for  a  thou- 
sand, tenty-ty-ty  for  ten  thousand,  etc.  But  in  the  utterance  of  such 
words,  the  syllable  ty  would  be  so  frequently  repeated  that  the  same 
inconvenience  would  be  produced  as  above  in  our  individual  num- 
ber-pictures. For  this  reason  the  genius  which  controls  the  for- 
mation of  speech  took  the  first  course. 

But  this  course  is  only  logically  carried  out  in  the  old  Indian 
numeral  words.  In  Sanskrit  we  not  only  have  for  ten,  hundred, 
and  thousand  a  new  root,  but  new  bases  of  composition  also  exist 
for  ten  thousand,  one  hundred  thousand,  ten  millions,  etc.,  which 
are  in  no  wise  related  with  the  words  for  smaller  numbers.  Such 
roots  exist  among  the  Hindus  for  all  numerals  up  to  the  number  ex- 
pressed by  a  one  and  fifty-four  appended  naughts.  In  no  other  lan- 
guage do  we  find  this  principle  carried  so  far.  In  most  languages  the 
numeral  words  for  the  number  consisting  of  a  one  with  four  and 
five  appended  naughts  are  compounded,  and  in  further  formations 
use  is  made  of  the  words  million,  billion,  trillion,  etc.,  which  really 
exhibit  only  one  root,  before  which  numeral  words  of  the  Latin 
tongue  are  placed. 

Besides  numeral  word-systems  based  on  the  number  ten,  logical 
systems  are  only  found  based  on  the  number  five  and  on  the  number 
twenty.  Systems  of  numeral  words  which  have  the  basis  five  occur 
in  equatorial  Africa.  (See  the  language-tables  of  Stanley's  books 
on  Africa.)  The  Aztecs  and  Mayas  of  ancient  Mexico  had  the  base 
twenty.  In  Europe  it  was  mainly  the  Celts  who  reckoned  with 
twenty  as  base.  The  French  language  still  shows  some  few  traces 
of  the  Celtic  vicenary  system,  as  in  its  word  for  eighty,  quatre-vingt. 
The  choice  of  five  and  twenty  as  bases  is  explained  simply  enough 
by  the  fact  that  each  hand  has  five  fingers,  and  that  hands  and  feet 
together  have  twenty  fingers  and  toes. 


NOTION  AND  DEFINITION  OF  NUMBER.  40! 

As  we  see,  the  languages  of  humanity  now  no  longer  possess 
natural  number-signs  and  number-words,  but  employ  names  and 
systems  of  notation  adopted  subsequently  to  this  first  stage.  Ac- 
cordingly, we  must  add  to  the  definition  of  counting  above  given  a 
third  factor  or  element  which,  though  not  absolutely  necessary,  is 
yet  important,  namely,  that  we  must  be  able  to  express  the  results 
of  the  above-defined  associating  of  certain  other  things  with  the 
things  to  be  counted,  by  some  conventional  sign  or  numeral  word. 

Having  thus  established  what  counting  or  numbering  means, 
we  are  in  a  position  to  define  also  the  notion  of  number,  which  we 
do  by  simply  saying  that  by  number  we  understand  the  results  of 
counting  or  numeration,  which  are  naturally  composed  of  two  ele- 
ments. First,  of  the  ordinary  number-word  or  number-sign  ;  and 
secondly,  of  the  word  standing  for  the  specific  things  counted.  For 
example,  eight  men,  seven  trees,  five  cities.  When,  now,  we  have 
counted  one  group  of  things,  and  subsequently  also  counted  another 
group  of  things  of  the  same  kind,  and  thereupon  we  conceive  the 
two  groups  of  things  combined  into  a  single  group,  we  can  save 
ourselves  the  labor  of  counting  the  things  a  third  time  by  blending 
the  number-pictures  belonging  to  the  two  groups  into  a  single  num- 
ber-picture belonging  to  the  whole.  In  this  way  we  arrive  on  the 
one  hand  at  the  idea  of  addition,  and  on  the  other,  at  the  notion  of 
"unnamed"  number.  Since  we  have  no  means  of  telling  from  the 
two  original  number-pictures  and  the  third  one  which  is  produced 
from  these,  the  kind  or  character  of  the  things  counted,  we  are  ulti- 
mately led  in  our  conception  of  number  to  abstract  wholly  from  the 
nature  of  the  things  counted,  and  to  form  the  definition  of  unnamed 
number. 

We  thus  see  that  to  ascend  from  the  notion  of  named  number 
to  the  notion  of  unnamed  number,  the  notion  of  addition  is  neces- 
sary, joined  to  a  high  power  of  abstraction.  Here  again  our  theory 
is  best  verified  by  observations  of  children  learning  to  count  and 
add.  A  child,  in  beginning  arithmetic,  can  well  understand  what 
five  pens  or  five  chairs  are,  but  he  cannot  be  made  to  understand 
from  this  alone  what  five  abstractly  is.  But  if  we  put  beside  the 
first  five  pens  three  other  pens,  or  beside  the  five  chairs  three  other 


4.O2  THE  MONIST. 

chairs,  we  can  usually  bring  the  child  to  see  that  five  things  plus 
three  things  are  always  eight  things,  no  matter  of  what  nature  the 
things  are,  and  that  accordingly  we  need  not  always  specify  in 
counting  what  kind  of  things  we  mean.  At  first  we  always  make 
the  answer  to  our  question  of  what  five  plus  three  is,  easy  for  the 
child,  by  relieving  him  of  the  process  of  abstraction,  which  is  neces- 
sary to  ascend  from  the  named  to  the  unnamed  number,  an  end 
which  we  accomplish  by  not  asking  first  what  five  plus  three  is,  but 
by  associating  with  the  numbers  words  designating  things  within 
the  sphere  of  the  child's  experience,  for  example,  by  asking  how 
many  five  pens  plus  three  pens  are. 

The  preceding  reflexions  have  led  us  to  the  notion  of  unnamed 
or  abstract  numbers.  The  arithmetician  calls  these  numbers  posi- 
tive whole  numbers,  or  positive  integers,  as  he  knows  of  other  kinds 
of  numbers,  for  example,  negative  numbers,  irrational  numbers,  etc. 
Still,  observation  of  the  world  of  actual  facts,  as  revealed  to  us  by  our 
senses,  can  naturally  lead  us  only  to  positive  whole  numbers,  such 
only,  and  no  others,  being  results  of  actual  counting.  All  other  kinds 
of  numbers  are  nothing  but  artificial  inventions  of  mathematicians 
created  for  the  purpose  of  giving  to  the  chief  tool  of  the  mathema- 
tician, namely,  arithmetical  notation,  a  more  convenient  and  more 
practical  form,  so  that  the  solution  of  the  problems  which  arise  in 
mathematics  may  be  simplified.  All  numbers,  excepting  the  results 
of  counting  above  defined,  are  and  remain  mere  symbols,  which, 
although  they  are  of  incalculable  value  in  mathematics,  and,  there- 
fore, can  scarcely  be  dispensed  with,  yet  could,  if  it  were  a  ques- 
tion of  principle,  be  avoided.  Kronecker  has  shown  that  any  prob- 
lem in  which  positive  whole  numbers  are  given,  and  only  such  are 
sought,  always  admits  of  solution  without  the  help  of  other  kinds  of 
numbers,  although  the  -employment  of  the  latter  wonderfully  sim- 
plifies the  solution. 

How  these  derived  species  of  numbers,  by  the  logical  applica- 
tion of  a  single  principle,  naturally  flow  from  the  notion  of  number 
and  of  addition  above  deduced,  I  shall  show  in  a  subsequent  article 
entitled  "Monism  in  Arithmetic." 

HAMBURG.  HERMANN  SCHUBERT. 


ETHICS  AND  THE  COSMIC  ORDER. 

A  CRITICISM    OF   PROFESSOR   THOMAS    H.    HUXLEY'S 

POSITION. 

T^VER  since  the  doctrine  of  evolution  has  been  accepted  by  the 
J— J  thinkers  of  mankind,  the  people  have  shown  an  extraordinary 
interest  in  its  ethical  and  religious  corollaries.  And  who  can  blame 
them?  For  in  fact  these  apparently  side  issues  are  after  all  the  main 
problems,  in  comparison  with  which  all  other  inferences  and  appli- 
cations sink  into  insignificance.  No  wonder  that  people  listen  with 
bated  breath  when  a  man  of  science  who  is  thoroughly  familiar  with 
all  the  results  of  modern  investigations,  in  their  relative  certainty 
and  uncertainty,  frankly  sets  forth  his  views  of  man's  relation  to  the 
cosmos.  Mankind  is  yearning  for  truth,  for  we  need  truth.  Truth 
is  the  daily  bread  of  our  spiritual  life,  and  if  the  sciences  are  what 
they  pretend  to  be,  if  they  present  to  us,  each  in  its  own  domain,  exact 
statements  of  truth,  religion  cannot  unheedingly  pass  them  by. 

Prof.  Thomas  H.  Huxley's  lecture  on  "Evolution  and  Ethics," 
(London:  Macmillan  &  Co.,  1893,)  appears  to  be  the  most  impor- 
tant publication  of  this  kind  made  of  late.  The  view  of  the  great 
scientist  on  ethics  would  have  produced  a  sensation,  if  he  had  not 
prepared  the  public  for  its  reception  by  former  occasional  utterances. 
His  standpoint  is  radical  in  the  extreme.  A  Schopenhauer  redivivus, 
he  denounces  in  most  vigorous  terms  the  world  as  a  whole,  and 
scorns  theodicies  not  less  than  cosmodicies  of  all  kinds.  He  boldly 
declares  "that  cosmic  nature  is  no  school  of  virtue,  but  the  head- 
quarters of  the  enemy  of  ethical  nature,"  and  is  firmly  convinced  by 
the  logic  of  facts  "that  the  cosmos  works  through  the  lower  nature 


4°4 


THE  MON1ST. 


of  man,  not  for  righteousness,  but  against  it."  Ethics  has  no  home 
here  on  earth,  for  according  to  his  drastic  comparison,  it  is  like  Jack's 
ascent  into  fairy-land  on  the  bean-stalk ;  he  says : 

"  The  hero  of  our  story  descended  the  bean-stalk,  and  came  back  to  the  com- 
mon world,  where  fare  and  work  were  alike  hard  ;  where  ugly  competitors  were 
much  commoner  than  beautiful  princesses  ;  and  where  the  everlasting  battle  with 
self  was  much  less  sure  to  be  crowned  with  victory  than  a  turn-to  with  a  giant. 
We  have  done  the  like.  Thousands  upon  thousands  of  our  fellows,  thousands  of 
years  ago,  have  preceded  us  in  finding  themselves  face  to  face  with  the  same  dread 
problem  of  evil.  They  also  have  seen  that  the  cosmic  process  is  evolution  ;  that  it 
is  full  of  wonder,  full  of  beauty,  and,  at  the  same  time,  full  of  pain.  They  have 
sought  to  discover  the  bearing  of  these  great  facts  on  ethics  ;  to  find  out  whether 
there  is,  or  is  not,  a  sanction  for  morality  in  the  ways  of  the  cosmos." 

Professor  Huxley  leaves  no  doubt  as  to  his  reply  to  this  prob- 
lem. He  sums  up  the  case,  saying  : 

"Thus,  brought  before  the  tribunal  of  ethics,  the  cosmos  might  well  seem  to 
stand  condemned.  .  .  .  But  few,  or  none,  ventured  to  record  that  verdict." 

With  special  seventy  the  great  scientist  criticises  "the  falla- 
cies "  which  pervade  the  so-called  "ethics  of  evolution."  He  says  : 

"As  the  immoral  sentiments  have  no  less  been  evolved,  there  is,  so  far,  as  much 
natural  sanction  for  the  one  as  the  other.  The  thief  and  the  murderer  follow  na- 
ture just  as  much  as  the  philanthropist.  Cosmic  evolution  may  teach  us  how  the 
good  and  the  evil  tendencies  of  man  may  have  come  about ;  but,  in  itself,  it  is  in- 
competent to  furnish  any  better  reason  why  what  we  call  good  is  preferable  to  what 
we  call  evil  than  we  had  before." 

Concerning  the  fallacy  which  identifies  "the  fittest"  and  "the. 
best "  he  says  : 

"  I  suspect  that  this  fallacy  has  arisen  out  of  the  unfortunate  ambiguity  of  the- 
phrase  '  survival  of  the  fittest.'  'Fittest'  has  a  connotation  of  'best';  and  about 
'  best '  there  hangs  a  moral  flavor.  In  cosmic  nature,  however,  what  is  '  fittest "" 
depends  upon  the  conditions.  Long  since,  I  ventured  to  point  out  that  if  our  hemi- 
sphere were  to  cool  again,  the  survival  of  the  fittest  might  bring  about,  in  the  vege- 
table kingdom,  a  population  of  more  and  more  stunted  and  humbler  and  humbler 
organisms,  until  the  '  fittest '  that  survived  might  be  nothing  but  lichens,  diatoms, 
and  such  microscopic  organisms  as  those  which  give  red  snow  its  color  ;  while,  if 
it  became  hotter,  the  pleasant  valleys  of  the  Thames  and  Isis  might  be  uninhabita- 
ble by  any  animated  beings  save  those  that  flourish  in  a  tropical  jungle.  They,  as 
the  fittest,  the  best  adapted  to  the  changed  conditions,  would  survive." 


ETHICS  AND  THE  COSMIC  ORDER.  405 

Professor  Huxley  goes  farther  still  in  his  denial  of  "any  ethical 
element  in  the  order  of  nature.  He  says  : 

"  For  his  successful  progress,  as  far  as  the  savage  state,  man  has  been  largely 
indebted  to  those  qualities  which  he  shares  with  the  ape  and  the  tiger  ;  his  excep- 
tional physical  organisation  ;  his  cunning,  his  sociability,  his  curiosity,  and  his  imi- 
tativeness  ;  his  ruthless  and  ferocious  destructiveness,  when  his  anger  is  roused  by 
opposition. 

"But  .  .  .  these  deeply  ingrained  serviceable  qualities  have  become  defects. 
Civilised  man  would  gladly  kick  down  the  ladder  by  which  he  has  climbed.  ...  In 
fact,  civilised  man  brands  all  these  ape  and  tiger  promptings  with  the  name  of  sins  ; 
he  punishes  many  of  the  acts  which  flow  from  them  as  crimes  ;  and,  in  extreme 
cases,  he  does  his  best  to  put  an  end  to  the  survival  of  the  fittest  of  former  days  by 
axe  and  rope. 

"  The  science  of  ethics  professes  to  furnish  us  with  a  reasoned  rule  of  life  ;  to 
tell  us  what  is  right  action  and  why  it  is  so.  Whatever  difference  of  opinion  may 
exist  among  experts,  there  is  a  general  consensus  that  the  ape  and  tiger  methods  of 
the  struggle  for  existence  are  not  reconcilable  with  sound  ethical  principles." 

A  great  part  of  Professor  Huxley's  lecture  is  filled  with  an  ap- 
preciative account  of  Buddha's  doctrines.  "It  is  a  remarkable  in- 
dication of  the  subtlety  of  Indian  speculation,"  he  says,  "that  Gau- 
tama should  have  seen  deeper  than  the  greatest  of  modern  idealists. 
....  Gautama  proceeded  to  eliminate  substance  altogether ;  and 
to  reduce  the  cosmos  to  a  mere  flow  of  sensations,  emotions,  voli- 
tions, and  thoughts,  devoid  of  any  substratum. "  But  the  salient  point 
is,  "to  the  early  philosophers  of  Hindostan,  no  less  than  to  those 
of  Ionia,  it  was  plain  that  suffering  is  the  badge  of  all  the  tribe  of 
sentient  beings  ";  and  suffering  "  is  no  accidental  accompaniment, 
but  an  essential  constituent  of  the  cosmic  process."  Professor  Hux- 
ley sketches  the  philosophical  evolution  of  India  and  Greece  as  fol- 
lows : 

"In  Hindostan,  as  in  Ionia,  a  period  of  relatively  high  and  tolerably  stable 
civilisation  had  succeeded  long  ages  of  semi-barbarism  and  struggle.  Out  of  wealth 
and  security  had  come  leisure  and  refinement,  and,  close  at  their  heels,  had  followed 
the  malady  of  thought." 

Quietism,  we  are  told,  was  the  final  outcome  of  Indian  and  of 
Graeco-Roman  thought ;  for,  says  Professor  Huxley,  the  Apatheia  of 
Stoic  philosophy  and  the  Nirvana  of  Buddhism  are  very  similar. 


406  THE    MONIST. 

"The  Vedas  and  the  Homeric  epos  set  before  us  a  world  of  rich  and  vigorous 
life.  ...  A  few  centuries  pass  away  and,  under  the  influence  of  civilisation,  the  de- 
scendants of  these  men  are  '  sicklied  o'er  with  the  pale  cast  of  thought ' — frank  pes- 
simists, or  at  best,  make-believe  optimists.  The  courage  of  the  warlike  stock  may 
be  as  hardly  tried  as  before,  perhaps  more  hardly,  but  the  enemy  is  self.  The  hero 
has  become  a  monk.  The  man  of  action  is  replaced  by  the  quietist,  whose  highest 
aspiration  is  to  be  the  passive  instrument  of  the  divine  Reason.  By  the  Tiber,  as 
by  the  Ganges,  ethical  man  admits  that  the  cosmos  is  too  strong  for  him  ;  and,  de- 
stroying every  bond  which  ties  him  to  it  by  ascetic  discipline,  he  seeks  salvation  in 
absolute  renunciation." 

This  view  of  life  apparently  leaves  us  in  utter  desolation  ;  but 
Professor  Huxley  is  not  quite  so  pessimistic  as  he  appears  in  these 
quotations.  He  does  not  recommend  quietism,  but  proposes  that  we 
should  fight  the  cosmos  : 

"Let  us  understand,  once  for  all,  that  the  ethical  progress  of  society  depends, 
not  on  imitating  the  cosmic  process,  still  less  in  running  away  from  it,  but  in  com- 
bating it." 

The  risk  of  combating  the  cosmic  process  is  great,  but  Professor 
Huxley  relies  on  man's  intelligence.  He  continues  : 

"It  may  seem  an  audacious  proposal  thus  to  pit  the  microcosm  against  the 
macrocosm  and  to  set  man  to  subdue  nature  to  his  higher  ends  ;  but,  I  venture  to 
think  that  the  great  intellectual  difference  between  the  ancient  times  with  which  we 
have  been  occupied  and  our  day,  lies  in  the  solid  foundation  we  have  acquired  for 
the  hope  that  such  an  enterprise  may  meet  with  a  certain  measure  of  success. 

"  The  history  of  civilisation  details  the  steps  by  which  men  have  succeeded  in 
building  up  an  artificial  world  within  the  cosmos." 

Accordingly,  in  Professor  Huxley's  mind,  artificiality  built  upon 
intelligence,  is  the  saving  power!  All  his  denunciations  of  "the 
injustice  of  the  nature  of  things,  of  the  unethical  character  of  the 
cosmic  order,  and  of  the  moral  indifference  of  the  selective  factors 
of  evolution  "  serve  simply  as  a  foil  to  this  idea.  But  Professor  Hux- 
ley does  not  appear  to  see,  that  there  is  no  choice  left  us.  If  our  rules 
of  conduct  do  not  ultimately  rest  upon  the  order  of  nature,  they  must 
be  of  supernatural  origin.  That  kind  of  art,  of  intelligence,  and  of 
theory,  which  is  artificial  in  the  sense  that  it  neither  grows  out  of  na- 
ture nor  remains  in  agreement  with  the  laws  of  nature,  but  combats 
the  cosmic  order,  is  nothing  but  a  dream,  an  impossibility  ;  and  thus 


ETHICS  AND  THE  COSMIC  ORDER.  407 

the  final  outcome  of  the  whole  lecture  would  be  highly  disappoint- 
ing, if  the  five  concluding  paragraphs  did  not  contain  a  few  sen- 
tences which  stand  in  striking  contrast  to  the  rest.  Considering  the 
fact  that  "the  organised  and  highly  developed  sciences  and  arts  of 
the  present  day  have  endowed  man  with  a  command  over  the  course 
of  non-human  nature  greater  than  that  attributed  to  the  magicians," 
Professor  Huxley  sees  "no  limit  to  the  extent  to  which  intelligence 
and  will,  guided  by  sound  principles  of  investigation,  and  organised 
in  common  effort,  may  modify  the  conditions  of  existence,  for  a 
period  longer  than  that  now  covered  by  history."  But  he  adds  : 

"  I  deem  it  an  essential  condition  of  the  realisation  of  that  hope  that  we  should 
cast  aside  the  notion  that  the  escape  from  pain  and  sorrow  is  the  proper  object  of 
life." 

If  escape  from  pain  and  sorrow  is  not  the  proper  object  of 
life,  Professor  Huxley  need  not  be  so  impatient  at  the  existence  of 
pain  and  suffering.  Intelligence  and  will,  he  says,  must  be  "guided 
by  sound  principles  of  investigation";  but  what  are  "sound  prin- 
ciples of  investigation  "  if  not  those  by  which  we  succeed  in  solving 
the  problems  of  existence  ;  sound  are  such  principles  only  as  are  en- 
dorsed by  the  cosmos.  Trust  in  science  is  incompatible  with  de- 
nunciations of  the  cosmic  order.  To  show  the  full  significance  of 
this  idea  we  shall  now  review  Professor  Huxley's  propositions  and 

call  attention  to  what  we  consider  the  defects  of  his  argument. 

* 

*  * 

We  miss  in  Professor  Huxley's  writings  any  definite  and  clear 
meaning  of  the  term  ethics.  Ethics  is  the  science  of  moral  conduct. 
But  what  .do  we  mean  by  "moral  goodness."  Will  Professor  Huxley 
be  satisfied  to  accept  without  criticism  the  traditional  meaning  of 
morality?  Is  he  good  who  keeps  the  ten  Mosaic  commandments,  or 
he  who  loves  his  enemies  and  resists  not  evil?  Must  we  consider  as 
moral  the  Christian  injunction  to  turn  the  left  cheek  to  him  who 
smites  us  on  our  right  cheek?  Or  must  we  regard  him  as  good  who 
follows  the  Homeric  principle  of  excelling  all  others?*  Shall  we 
adopt  the  hedonistic  view  and  define  good  as  that  which  produces 

*  alev  apinTEveiv  KOI  virtpfjievov  e/j-fievai  a/Ckuv. 


408 


THE  MONIST. 


the  greatest  amount  of  pleasurable  feelings?  Who  shall  decide 
whether  your  conception  of  good  and  evil,  or  mine,  or  that  of  the 
Christian,  or  that  of  the  Greek,  or  that  of  the  Buddhist,  or  that  of 
the  Confucian  is  to  be  regarded  as  the  standard? 

Judging  from  one  passage  of  the  present  lecture,  Professor  Hux- 
ley may  have  adopted  the  intuitionalist  view,  which  claims  that  good 
cannot  be  defined  and  that  in  our  judgment  of  it  we  must  rely  upon 
our  intuition.*  Intuitionalism,  however,  will  render  ethics,  as  a 
science,  impossible,  and  relegate  it  to  the  realm  of  unsettled  opin- 
ions. The  proposition  that  all  intuitions  are  equally  justified,  each 
one  in  its  own  subjective  sphere,  practically  amounts  to  a  most  radi- 
cal denial  of  ethics,  as  much  so  as  agnosticism,  when  declaring  that 
the  fundamental  problems  of  philosophy  are  insolvable,  is  tantamount 
to  a  denial  of  philosophy  as  a  science. 

Is  there  any  other  criterion  than  experience,  and  what  is  the  test 
of  experience  but  an  appeal  to  the  cosmic  order  of  nature?  Indeed, 
we  have  no  choice  left  us,  but  must  investigate  all  the  different  ethi- 
cal systems  to  determine  which  one  is  the  strongest,  which  one  will 
produce  the  type  of  mankind  that  is  fittest  to  survive  ;  which  one  is 
best  adapted  to  the  cosmic  order  of  the  world. 

The  cosmos  and  the  constitution  of  the  cosmos  must  after  all 
furnish  us  the  necessary  data  from  which  we  have  to  construct  our 
criterion  of  ethics.  Ethics  is  not  a  Jack's  ascent  to  fairy-land  on 
a  bean-stalk,  but  a  systematic  presentation  of  the  rules  of  conduct 
for  practical  life.  Professor  Huxley  rightly  urges  that  the  survival 
of  the  fittest  among  plants  depends  upon  surrounding  conditions  ; 
under  unfavorable  conditions,  such  as  prevail  in  the  arctic  zones  and 
on  the  Alpine  ridges,  mosses  and  lichens  only  will  survive,  while  the 
Sahara  is  uninhabitable  for  civilised  mankind.  In  the  same  way  we 
urge  that  in  the  survival  of  the  fittest  in  society  and  also  in  the  sur- 
vival of  the  fittest  among  the  different  systems  of  society,  those  will 
survive  that  adapt  themselves  most  closely  to  the  conditions  which 


*He  says  :  "  Some  day,  I  doubt  not,  we  shall  arrive  at  an  understanding  of  the 
evolution  of  the  aesthetic  faculty  ;  but  all  the  understanding  in  the  world  will  neither 
increase  nor  diminish  the  force  of  the  intuition  that  this  is  beautiful  and  that  is 
ugly." 


ETHICS  AND  THE  COSMIC  ORDER.  409 

social  life  necessarily  exhibits  according  to  the' constitution  of  the 
cosmos.* 

Professor  Huxley  says  that  "man  has  been  largely  indebted  for 
his  successful  progress  to  those  qualities  which  he  shares  with  the 
ape  and  tiger  .  .  .  and  he  now  kicks  down  the  ladder  by  which  he  has 
climbed."  This  is  a  misstatement  of  the  case.  If  by  "those  quali- 
ties "  Professor  Huxley  means,  as  he  explicitly  says,  "those  ape  and 
tiger  promptings"  which  "civilised  man  brands  with  the  name  of 
sins, "  he  is  obviously  mistaken.  If  that  were  so,  why  have  neither  the 
tiger  nor  the  ape  attained  to  the  power  of  man?  We  cannot  consider 
the  rise  of  man's  power  a  mere  accident,  for  it  is  plain  enough  that 
ape  and  tiger  have  failed  to  adapt  themselves  to  the  conditions  of  a 
higher  life,  while  man  has  climbed  the  ladder,  because  of  his  rational 
insight,  which  reveals  to  him  a  truer  knowledge  of  things  and  enables 
him  to  adapt  his  methods  more  perfectly  to  the  cosmic  order  of  ex- 
istence. However,  if  Professor  Huxley  means  those  nobler  qualities 
of  ape  and  tiger  which  these  animals  share  with  man,  viz.,  sociabil- 
ity, imitativeness,  or  a  talent  of  adaptation  to  circumstances  in  the 
ape,  and  indomitable  energy  in  the  tiger,  we  should  say  that  civilised 
man  has  no  reason  "to  kick  down  the  ladder  by  which  he  has 
climbed."  On  the  contrary,  the  stronger  these  qualities  are  in  him, 
the  more  rapidly  will  he  advance  in  the  future. 

Says  Professor  Huxley  : 

"  Social  progress  means  a  checking  of  the  cosmic  process  at  every  step  and  the 
substitution  for  it  of  another,  which  may  be  called  the  ethical  process  ;  the  end  of 
which  is  not  the  survival  of  those  who  may  happen  to  be  the  fittest,  in  respect  of 
the  whole  of  the  conditions  which  exist,  but  of  those  who  are  ethically  the  best." 

We  say  :  Social  progress  becomes  possible  only  through  a  more 
comprehensive  and  deeper  understanding  of  the  cosmic  order  of  the 
world,  and  it  consists  in  a  more  and  more  perfect  adaptation  to  the 

*  That  ' '  the  best  "  societies  are  in  the  long  run  ' '  the  fittest  to  survive, "  does  not 
exclude  the  fact  that  what  in  social  life  appears  as  a  "defect"  is  often  actually 
favorable  for  the  preservation  of  animals  and  plants  and  also  of  single  individuals. 
The  terms  "best  "  and  "  fittest  to  survive  "  must  therefore  not  be  regarded  as  iden- 
tical. As  it  would  lead  us  too  far  here  to  discuss  the  problem  in  detail,  we  refer  the 
reader  to  the  articles,  "The  Test  of  Progress"  and  "The  Ethics  of  Evolution,"  in 
Homilies  of  Science,  pp.  36-47. 


410 


THE  MONIST. 


ethical  rules  derived  from  our  better  insight  into  the  laws  of  our 
being. 

While  speaking  disparagingly  of  theodicies,  Professor  Huxley 

says  they  are,  so  far  as  he  knows,  "all  variations  of  the  theme  set 

forth  in  those  famous  six  lines  of  Pope,"  which  end  with  the  words  : 

"And  spite  of  pride,  in  erring  reason's  spite, 

One  truth  is  clear  :  whatever  is,  is  right." 

Professor  Huxley  justly  criticises  this  sentiment  which  stifles 
every  aspiration  and  paralyses  every  effort,  saying  :  "Why  try  to 
set  right  what  is  right  already?  Why  strive  to  improve  the  best  of 
all  possible  worlds?  Let  us  eat  and  drink,  for  as  to-day  all  is  right, 
so  to-morrow  all  will  be." 

Here  we  would  suggest  to  Professor  Huxley  that  he  make  a  dis- 
tinction between  the  facts  of  nature  and  the  cosmic  constitution  of 
the  world.  The  world  as  it  now  surrounds  us,  the  present  state  of 
things  is  such  as  it  is  in  consequence  of  innumerable  events,  which, 
according  to  the  law  of  cause  and  effect,  have  produced  us  and  our 
surrounding  conditions.  One  of  the  most  obtrusive  features  of  ex- 
istence is  that  the  present  state  of  things  and  the  conditions  which 
surround  us  are  always  imperfect.  There  is  always  room  for  im- 
provement ;  the  path  of  progress  is  infinite,  and  whatever  is,  is  al- 
ways somehow  faulty.  The  cosmic  order  of  the  world,  however,  is 
immutable  and  above  all  attempts  at  improvement.  The  constitu- 
tion of  the  universe  consists  in  those  features  of  reality  which  the 
scientist  describes  in  what  we  commonly  call  the  laws  of  nature.  It 
is,  for  instance,  a  constitutional  feature  of  the  universe  that  lies  have 
injurious  effects  upon  those  who  accept  them  as  truths,  and  also  upon 
those  who  promulgate  them,  as  soon  as  they  are  found  out.  We  call 
such  consequences  of  evil  deeds  their  curses.  Now,  we  should  say 
that  such  evil  conditions  as  are  the  consequences  of  sin,  are  in  them- 
selves evils,  but  the  law,  that  makes  curses  the  wages  of  sin,  is  no 
evil. 

We  do  not  intend  to  write  either  a  Theodicy  or  a  Cosmodicy, 
because  neither  God  nor  the  cosmos  needs  it ;  they  justify  them- 
selves. Just  as  much  as  they  are  above  all  criticism,  they  need  no 
defence  from  the  poor  pen  of  a  mortal  scribbler.  There  is  no  use 


ETHICS  AND  THE  COSMIC  ORDER.  411 

either  for  an  indictment  of  the  cosmic  order,  or  for  a  condemnation 
of  it,  or  for  a  justification  of  it,  since  we  can  neither  convict  it,  nor 
punish  it,  nor  educate  it  to  our  peculiar  views  of  moral  goodness. 

All  indictments  of  the  cosmic  order,  such  as  those  made  by  John 
Stuart  Mill  and  Professor  Huxley,  are  mere  misstatements  of  the 
case.  That  the  world  is  full  of  misery  cannot  be  denied  ;  it  is  also 
true  that  the  evil-doer  involves  in  the  curse  of  his  sin  a  great  num- 
ber of  other  persons,  and  that  pain  and  suffering  are  necessary  ac- 
companiments and  essential  constituents  of  life  ;  but  those,  who 
like  Mill,  solemnly  arraign  nature  for  "deliberate"  murder  be- 
cause every  living  being  that  is  born  must  die,  and  those  who  like 
Huxley,  when  speaking  of  pleasures  and  pains,  make  the  objection 
that  "it  is  admittedly  impossible  for  the  lower  orders  of  sentient 
beings  to  deserve  (sic  !)  either  the  one  or  the  other,"  are  guilty  of 
anthropomorphism. 

We  may  speak  of  "the  unfathomable  injustice  of  the  nature  of 
things"  only  when  we  look  upon  the  world  as  a  whole,  as  a  personal 
being,  and  upon  every  single  man  as  an  individual  soul-entity,  who, 
from  some  unknown  sphere  is,  like  Hamlet,  "a  no  less  blameless 
dreamer,  dragged,  in  spite  of  himself,  into  a  world  out  of  joint.  "* 
This  view  adopts  the  old,  mythological  theory,  which  individualises 
God  and  man,  yet  drops  at  the  same  time  those  other  allegorical  no- 
tions of  immortality  and  a  transcendental  heaven  above  the  world 
which  are  its  indispensable  complements.  It  is  natural  that  when 
we  remain  with  one  foot  in  the  old  domain  of  thought  and  simply 
lift  the  other  without  yet  stepping  into  the  next  higher  sphere  of 
progress,  we  have  assumed  no  firm  position.  He  who  takes  such 
an  attitude  should  not,  because  of  the  inconsistency  of  his  own  po- 
sition, blame  the  world.  If  a  man  looks  through  spectacles  which 
contain  lenses  of  greatly  different  strength,  he  must  not  complain 
that  things  are  out  of  shape,  but  must  seek  the  fault  in  the  medium 
through  which  he  looks  at  his  surroundings. f 

*  These  are  Huxley's  own  words,  Evolution  and  Ethics,  p.  13. 

f  John  Stuart  Mill's  denunciation  of  Nature  which  anticipates  some  of  the  most 
vigorous  expressions  of  Professor  Huxley,  is  found  in  his  essay  on  Nature.  For  a 
criticism  of  Mill's  position  see  the  writer's  article  "  Nature  and  Morality  "  (  The  Open 
Court,  Nos.  239,  241,  and  242). 


412  THE  MONIST. 

The  attitude  of  both  Mr.  Mill  and  Professor  Huxley  is  the  more 
singular  as  both  must  be  perfectly  conscious  of  the  erroneousness 
of  their  position.  Professor  Huxley  indeed  recognises  the  fact  that, 
"strictly  speaking,  social  life  and  the  ethical  process  are  part  and 
parcel  of  the  general  process  of  evolution  ";  but  this  statement  ap- 
pears only  in  a  forlorn  passage  among  the  notes  of  his  appendix.  He 
makes  no  use  of  it  and  bases  the  main  propositions  of  his  lecture  upon 
statements  that  are  only  loosely  speaking  correct. 

Professor  Huxley  might  have  found  a  cosmodicy  in  the  Bud- 
dhist doctrine  of  Karma  which  he  admirably  epitomises  as  follows  : 

"Everyday  experience  familiarises  us  with  the  facts  which  are  grouped  under 
the  name  of  heredity.  Every  one  of  us  bears  upon  him  obvious  marks  of  his  par- 
entage, perhaps  of  remoter  relationships.  More  particularly,  the  sum  of  tendencies 
to  act  in  a  certain  way,  which  we  call  '  character, '  is  often  to  be  traced  through  a 
long  series  of  progenitors  and  collaterals.  So  we  may  justly  say  that  this  '  Charac- 
ter ' — this  moral  and  intellectual  essence  of  a  man — does  veritably  pass  over  from 
one  fleshly  tabernacle  to  another  and  does  really  transmigrate  from  generation  to 
generation.  In  the  new-born  infant,  the  character  of  the  stock  lies  latent  and  the 
Ego  is  little  more  than  a  bundle  of  potentialities.  But,  very  early,  these  become 
actualities  ;  from  childhood  to  age  they  manifest  themselves  in  dullness  or  bright- 
ness, weakness  or  strength,  viciousness  or  uprightness  ;  and  with  each  feature  mod- 
ified by  confluence  with  another  character,  if  by  nothing  else,  the  character  passes 
on  to  its  incarnation  in  new  bodies. 

"The  Indian  philosophers  called  character,  as  thus  defined,  'karma.'  It  is  this 
karma  which  passed  from  life  to  life  and  linked  them  in  the  chain  of  transmigra- 
tions ;  and  they  held  that  it  is  modified  in  each  life,  not  merely  by  confluence  of 
parentage,  but  by  its  own  acts." 

Professor  Huxley  adds  in  his  notes  : 

"  In  the  theory  of  evolution,  the  tendency  of  a  germ  to  develop  according  to  a 
certain  specific  type,  e.  g. ,  of  the  kidney  bean  seed  to  grow  into  a  plant  having  all 
the  characters  of  Phaseolns  vulgaris  is  its  '  Karma.'  It  is  the  '  last  inheritor  and  the 
last  result '  of  all  the  conditions  that  have  affected  a  line  of  ancestry  which  goes  back 
for  many  millions  of  years  to  the  time  when  life  first  appeared  on  the  earth.  .  .  . 
As  Prof.  Rhys  Davids  aptly  says,  the  snowdrop  '  is  a  snowdrop  and  not  an  oak,  and 
just  that  kind  of  a  snowdrop,  because  it  is  the  outcome  of  the  Karma  of  an  endless 
series  of  past  existences.'  ('  Hibbert  Lectures,'  p.  114.)" 

If  this  Buddhistic  view  of  Karma  is  correct,  the  present  state 
of  existence  on  earth  is  the  exact  product  of  the  actions  that  have 


ETHICS  AND  THE  COSMIC  ORDER.  413 

taken  place  here  upon  our  planet  since  its  formation  as  an  inde- 
pendent body  in  the  solar  system.  The  constitution  of  the  universe 
is  such  that  we  reap  as  we  have  sown.  When  we  say  "we,"  it  is 
understood  that  it  means  not  our  present  individualised  existence 
only,  but  our  entire  Karma,  past,  present,  and  future.  It  includes 
all  the  causes  of  our  being  ;  even  the  bad  company  from  whose  vices 
we  surfer  are,  in  this  sense,  a  part  of  our  own  making.  Thus  it  be- 
comes apparent  that  not  God  is  guilty  of  the  evil  conditions  of  our 
state  of  being,  but  we  ourselves  ;  we  have  not  been  "dragged  into 
a  world  out  of  joint,"  but  we  ourselves  are  the  creators,  not  only  of 
our  character,  but  also  of  the  plight  in  which  we  are.  There  is  no 
fault  to  be  found  with  the  constitutional  order  of  being  which  pun- 
ishes those  who  go  astray ;  we  alone  are  the  sinners,  and  if  we  ex- 
pect delivery  from  evil,  we  must  be  our  own  saviours. 

It  appears  to  be  Professor  Huxley's  opinion  that  Buddha  and 
all  those  moral  teachers  whose  final  goal  of  moral  conduct  he  char- 
acterises as  quietism,  have  condemned  the  cosmos  ;  but  this  propo- 
sition is  more  plausible  than  correct.  We  think  that  Buddha's  po- 
sition was  slightly  different  from  what  Professor  Huxley  represents 
it.  Buddha  taught  a  suppression  of  all  sinful  desires,  of  selfishness, 
covetousness,  and  lusts,  but  at  the  same  time  did  not  tire  in  his 
exhortations  of  rousing  oneself  from  indifference  to  energetic  activ- 
ity, and  of  working  out  one's  own  salvation  with  diligence.  What- 
ever Buddha  may  have  taught,  we  should  say  that  energetic  work 
and  intense  activity  is  one  of  the  most  urgent  demands  which  the 
constitution  of  the  cosmos  makes  on  all  its  children.  And  we  trust 
that  no  great  moral  teacher,  Buddha  not  excepted,  was  a  quietist  in 
the  usual  sense  of  the  term. 

Professor  Huxley  says  (on  page  33)  : 

"  The  practice  of  that  which  is  ethically  best — what  we  call  goodness  or  vir- 
tue— involves  a  course  of  conduct  which,  in  all  respects,  is  opposed  to  that  which 
leads  to  success  in  the  cosmic  struggle  for  existence.  In  place  of  ruthless  self- 
assertion  it  demands  self-restraint." 

It  is  true  enough,  that  goodness  or  virtue  requires  not  "self- 
assertion,"  but  "self-restraint";  or  as  Professor  Huxley  says  on 
page  29,  "the  enemy  is  self."  But  it  is  not  true  that  self-restraint 


414  THE  MONIST. 

is  "a.  course  of  conduct  which  in  all  respects  is  opposed  to  that 
which  leads  to  success  in  the  cosmic  struggle  for  existence."  Even 
tigers  succeed  in  the  struggle  for  existence  only  because  their  self- 
assertion  is  tempered  with  self-restraint ;  and  man  succeeds  better 
than  tigers  and  apes,  in  exactly  the  degree  in  which  he  is  more  per- 
fectly familiar  with  the  conditions  that  lead  to  success  in  that  strug- 
gle. Man  uses  his  knowledge  with  greater  energy,  not  of  muscle, 
but  of  mental  concentration,  and  with  more  complete  self-possession. 
Buddha's  quietism  (if  I  interpret  his  Dharma  rightly)  consists  in  the 
recognition  of  the  truth  that  "self  is  the  enemy,"  but  while  we  must 
replace  self-assertion  by  self-restraint,  we  must  not  sink  into  the 
indolence  of  quietism.  On  the  contrary,  all  the  energy  which  human 
tigers  waste  in  the  service  of  selfishness  should  be  employed  to  pro- 
mote those  duties  which  the  cosmic  order  prescribes. 

If  Professor  Huxley  had  recognised  the  difference  which  ob- 
tains between  the  laws  of  nature  and  the  temporary  state  of  things, 
he  would  scarcely  have  filed  his  indictment  against  the  cosmic  order. 
The  laws  of  nature  are  a  constitutional  feature  of  the  universe  ;  they 
are  irrefragable,  immutable,  eternal,  and  admit  of  no  exception.  It 
makes  no  difference  whether  we  praise  the  cosmic  order  or  denounce 
it,  whether  we  like  it  or  dislike  it.  It  is  the  voice  of  God ;  nay,  it  is 
God  himself  in  all  his  omnipotence  and  sternness.  It  is  the  Jahveh 
who  was,  is,  and  will  be.  We  may,  with  Professor  Huxley,  bring  it 
before  the  tribunal  of  ethics  and  boldly  declare  that  it  stands  con- 
demned ;  but  we  cannot  set  up  a  rule  of  life  against  it.  Nothing 
will  stand  that  contradicts  it,  and  no  definition  of  moral  goodness 
goes  to  the  bottom  of  truth,  unless  it  casts  its  anchor  in  this  bed- 
rock of  facts. 

Professor  Huxley  believes  in  the  efficacy  of  "intelligence  and 
will  guided  by  sound  principles  of  investigation  ";  in  a  word,  he  be- 
lieves in  science.  And  here  we  find  ourselves  in  perfect  agreement 
with  him.  We  only  wish  him  to  know  that  if  he  adopts  this  belief 
in  science  as  a  living  faith  applicable  to  practical  life  and  uses  it  for 
the  elaboration  of  an  ethical  system,  it  will,  if  consistently  thought 
out  in  all  its  consequences,  lead  him  to  that  world-conception  which 
we  call  the  Religion  of  Science. 


ETHICS  AND  THE  COSMIC  ORDER.  415 

Belief  in  science  means  that  truth  can  be  investigated,  found, 
and  clearly  stated;  and  truth  clearly  stated  jreveals  to  us  the  rules  of 
right  conduct. 

Are  science,  and  truth,  and  also  the  higher  life  of  civilisation, 
as  it  becomes  possible  by  a  better  understanding  of  truth, — are  they 
indeed  artificial  worlds  within  the  cosmos ;  do  they  really  stand  in 
such  contradictory  opposition  to  the  cosmic  order  of  nature  as  Pro- 
fessor Huxley  would  fain  make  us  believe?  Is  the  animal  nearer 
than  man  to  nature,  and  is  ploughing,  as  Mr.  Mill  states,  an  in- 
fringement upon  the  natural  order  of  things  ?  Certainly  not.  For 
what  are  the  results  of  science,  but  a  knowledge  of  the  world  ?  They 
furnish  us  with  a  revelation  of  the  constitution  of  the  universe  !  And 
what  is  truth  but  a  perfect  description  of  the  facts  of  nature  summed 
up  in  their  essential  and  permanent  features?  Will  Professor  Hux- 
ley glorify  science  and  condemn  that  reality  which  science  reveals  ? 
Will  he  exalt  truth  and  scorn  the  original  whose  copy  and  portrait 
truth  is  ?  Will  he  boast  of  man's  intelligence  and  the  scientist's 
"  sound  principles  of  investigation,"  while  he  laughs  to  scorn  the 
order  of  the  cosmos,  which  is  the  prototype  of  man's  reason  and 
the  God  in  whose  image  rational  beings  have  been  created? 

The  epiphany  of  truth  in  science  and  the  religious  trust  in  the 
ethical  worth  of  truth  proves  that  God — not  the  personal  God  of 
supernaturalism,  but  the  superpersonal  God  of  a  scientific  concep- 
tion, the  life  that  beats  in  our  hearts  and  quickens  every  atom  of  the 
universe — is  a  living  power  still.  We  confess  that  we  have  aban- 
doned the  old,  narrow  dogmatism  of  the  traditional  religions,  which 
Professor  Huxley  has  frequently  taken  occasion  to  criticise  with 
caustic  humor  and  severe  ridicule.  But  our  attitude  differs  from 
his  in  one  respect :  we  reject  the  mythology  of  religion  only,  but 
not  its  essential  meaning.  The  Religion  of  Science  preserves  all  that 
is  worth  preserving.  It  preserves  the  holy  zeal  for  the  ideals  of 
righteousness  and  justice  ;  it  cherishes  a  personal  relation  to  the 
source  of  our  being  and  the  authority  of  moral  conduct ;  it  stimu- 
lates the  fervid  aspiration  onward  through  toil,  disappointments, 
and  sacrifices  to  victory;  through  doubt  and  darkness  to  light ;  and 
through  hours  of  tribulation  and  anxiety  to  a  bright  fulfilment  of 


416  THE  MONIST. 

our  hopes.  "He  that  sat  upon  the  throne  said  :  Behold  I  make  all 
things  new.  And  he  sayl  unto  me,  Write  :  for  these  words  are  true 
and  faithful." 

EDITOR, 


KARMA  AND  NIRVANA. 

ARE  THE  BUDDHIST  DOCTRINES  NIHILISTIC? 

T)UDDHISM  is  generally  characterised  as  a  religion  without  a 
U  belief  in  God  and  the  human  soul,  without  the  hope  of  a  future 
existence,  pessimistic  and  desolate,  looking  upon  life  as  an  ocean  of 
suffering,  quietistic  in  ethics,  and  finding  comfort  only  in  the  expec- 
tation of  a  final  extinction  in  nothingness.  Now,  it  is  true  that 
Buddhists,  with  the  exception  of  some  less  important  heretical  sects, 
do  not  believe  in  a  personal  God  ;  but,  while  on  the  one  hand,  there 
are  many  faithful  Christians  who  look  upon  the  theistic  dogma  merely 
as  the  symbolical  expression  of  a  deeper  truth,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
Buddhists  believe  not  only  in  the  Sambhoga  Kaya  which  is  an  equiv- 
alent of  the  Christian  God-idea,  but  even  in  a  trinity  of  Sambhoga 
Kaya,  Nirmana  Kaya,  and  Dharma  Kaya,  bearing  a  close  resemblance 
to  the  Christian  conception  of  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost.  Further, 
it  is  undeniable  that  Buddhists  do  not  believe  in  the  atman  or  Self 
which  is  the  Brahman  philosophers'  definition  of  soul,  but  they  do 
not  deny  the  existence  of  mind  and  the  continuance  of  man's  spiritual 
existence  after  death.  Men  trained  in  Western  modes  of  thought, 
however,  are  so  accustomed  to  their  own  terminology  that  Eastern 
thinkers,  when  using  expressions  denying  the  allegoric  terms  of 
Christian  thought,  are  suspected  of  negativism.  Even  Western 
thinkers  who  have  ceased  to  be  believers  in  Christianity  fail  to  see 
the  positive  aspect  of  the  Buddhist  world-conception,  and  we  are 
again  and  again  confronted  with  the  refrain  :  If  Buddha's  doctrine  is 
not  nihilism,  it  practically  amounts  to  nihilism. 


418  THE  MONIST. 

Benfey  says  in  the  preface  to  his  translation  of  the  "  Pantscha 
Tantra": 

"The  very  bloom  of  the  intellectual  life  of  India  (whether  it  found  expression 
in  Brahmanical  or  Buddhist  works)  proceeded  substantially  from  Buddhism,  and  is 
contemporaneous  with  the  epoch  in  which  Buddhism  flourished  ; — that  is  to  say, 
from  the  third  century  before  Christ  to  the  sixth  century  after  Christ.  Taking  its 
stand  upon  that  principle,  said  to  have  been  proclaimed  by  Buddhism  in  its  earliest 
years,  '  that  only  that  teaching  of  the  Buddha's  is  true  which  contraveneth  not  sound 
reason,'*  the  autonomy  of  man's  Intellect  was,  we  may  fairly  say,  effectively  ac- 
knowledged ;  the  whole  relation  between  the  realms  of  the  knowable  and  of  the  un- 
knowable was  subjected  to  its  control ;  and  notwithstanding  that  the  actual  reason- 
ing powers,  to  which  the  ultimate  appeal  was  thus  given,  were  in  fact  then  not 
altogether  sound,  yet  the  way  was  pointed  out  by  which  Reason  could,  under  more 
favorable  circumstances,  begin  to  liberate  itself  from  its  failings.  We  are  already 
learning  to  value,  in  the  philosophical  endeavors  of  Buddhism,  the  labors,  some- 
times indeed  quaint,  but  aiming  at  thoroughness  and  worthy  of  the  highest  respect, 
of  its  severe  earnestness  in  inquiry.  From  the  prevailing  tone  of  our  work,  and  still 
more  so  from  the  probable  Buddhist  origin  of  those  other  Indian  story-books  which 
have  hitherto  become  known  to  us,  it  is  clear  that,  side  by  side  with  Buddhistic 
earnestness,  the  merry  jests  of  light,  and  even  frivolous  poetry  and  conversation, 
preserved  the  cheerfulness  of  life." 

This  description  does  not  show  Buddhism  in  a  gloomy  light,  and 
it  is  different  from  what  people  usually  imagine  it  to  be. 

In  spite  of  the  innumerable  exuberances  of  modern  Buddhism, 
its  power  and  possibilities  are  still  great  mainly  because  it  enjoins  on 
its  devotees  the  free  exercise  of  their  reasoning  powers.  Among  all 
religious  men  Buddhists  more  than  others  appear  to  be  at  the  same 
time  full  of  religious  zeal  and  also  open  to  conviction.  We  read 
in  Charles  D.  B.  Mill's  book  "Buddha  and  Buddhism,"  p.  76  : 

' '  The  Regent  of  Lhassa  declared  perpetually  to  the  Catholic  missionaries  Hue 
and  Gabet,  as  they  tell  us,  '  Your  religion  is  like  our  own,  the  truths  are  the  same  ; 
we  differ  only  in  the  explanation  [exposition] .  Amid  all  that  you  have  seen  and 
heard  in  Tartary  and  Thibet  you  must  have  found  much  to  condemn  ;  but  you  are 
to  remember  that  many  errors  and  superstitions  that  you  may  have  observed,  have 
been  introduced  by  ignorant  Lamas,  but  are  rejected  by  intelligent  Buddhists.'  '  He 
admitted  between  us  and  himself  only  two  points  where  there  was  disagreement — 
the  origin  of  the  world  and  the  transmigration  of  souls.'  '  Let  us  examine  them  both 

*Wassiliew,  Der  Buddhismus,  etc.,  p.  68. 


KARMA  AND  NIRVANA.  419 

together,'  said  he  to  them  again,  'with  care  and  sincerity;  if  yours  is  the  best,  we 
will  accept  it ;  how  could  we  refuse  you  ?  If,  on  the  other  hand,  ours  is  best,  I 
doubt  not  you  will  be  alike  reasonable,  and  follow  that.'  " 

Now  it  is  strange  that  in  those  two  points  which  constitute  the 
main  differences  between  Buddhism  and  Christianity,  viz.  creation 
and  the  nature  of  the  soul,  modern  science,  represented  exclusively 
by  scientists  educated  in  Christian  schools  and  with  a  Christian 
tradition  of  two  millenniums,  will  certainly  side  with  Buddhism. 
There  is  scarcely  any  one  among  our  scientists  who  would  be  wil- 
jing  to  endorse  a  creation  out  of  nothing,  and  among  our  prominent 
psychologists  few  only  will  be  found  who  adhere  to  the  dualistic 
soul-conception  which  assumes  the  existence  of  a  psychic  agent  be- 
hind the  facts  of  soul-life.  Nevertheless  our  popular  conception  of 
a  Creator-God  and  an  ego-soul  are  so  deeply  rooted  in  the  minds  of 
our  people  that,  as  a  rule,  they  still  consider  these  two  ideas  as  the 
indispensable  foundations  of  all  religion. 

We  intend  here  briefly  to  review  the  fundamental  conceptions 
of  Buddhism,  and  hope  to  prove  that  although  its  doctrines  of  the 
soul  and  of  Nirvana  may  to  Western  minds  appear  to  be  the  equiva- 
lent of  nihilism,  they  certainly  are  not  nihilism  if  we  take  the  trouble 
to  look  at  them  from  the  Buddhist  standpoint.  And  far  from  being 
pessimistic  in  the  Western  sense  of  pessimism,  the  Buddhist  pos- 
sesses a  cheerful  disposition  which  in  this  world  of  tribulation  lifts 
him  above  pain  and  suffering. 

THE  BUDDHIST  CONCEPTION  OF  THE  SOUL. 

SOUL  was  identified  by  Brahmanical  philosophers  with  the  at- 
man,  the  self,  the  ego,  or  the  ego-consciousness,  viz.,  that  something 
in  man  which  says  "I."  This  atman  was  conceived  as  a  metaphys- 
ical entity  behind  man's  sensations,  thoughts,  and  other  activities. 
Not  the  eye  sees,  they  said,  but  the  seer  in  the  eye  ;  not  the  ear 
hears,  but  the  hearer  in  the  ear  ;  not  the  tongue  tastes,  but  the  taster 
fn  the  tongue  ;  not  the  nose  smells,  but  the  smeller  in  the  nose  ;  not 
the  mind  thinks,  but  the  thinker  in  the  mind  ;  not  the  feet  walk  and 
the  hands  act,  but  the  actor  in  the  hands  and  the  feet.  The  mys- 
terious being  in  man  which  says  "  I  am  this  person,  I  possess  eyes, 


420  THE  MONIST. 

ears,  nose,  tongue,  hands  and  feet,  I  see,  hear,  smell,  taste,  feel  the 
contact  of  bodies,  walk  and  act,"  is  said  to  be  the  agent  of  man's 
activity.  This  "  I  "  or  the  ego  of  the  soul,  the  agent  of  man's  activ- 
ity, is  called  the  atman  or  self ;  and  in  so  far  as  the  existence  of  the 
atman  is  denied  by  Buddha,  Buddhism  teaches  that  there  is  no  soul. 

When  Buddhists  speak  of  the  soul,  they  mean  the  Brahmanical 
atman.  When  they  mean  what  we  would  call  soul,  they  speak  of 
mind  ;  and  Buddhism,  far  from  denying  the  existence  of  mind,  only 
replaces  the  dualistic  conception  of  Brahmanical  philosophy  by  a 
monistic  soul-theory,  which  in  the  course  of  time  naturally  developed 
the  doctrine  that  there  is  nothing  but  mind. 

The  phrase  " there  is  nothing  but  mind,"  reminds  us  of  Clif- 
ford's dictum  :  Everything  that  exists  is  mind-stuff ;  and  it  may  be 
explained  as  follows  :  All  outside  things  appear  to  us  as  matter  mov- 
ing in  space  ;  so  we  appear  to  other  beings  as  matter  moving  in 
space ;  we  appear  to  be  body  to  our  own  and  to  other  people's 
senses  ;  but  in  ourselves  we  feel  our  existence  as  that  which  we  call 
mind  or  soul.  Body  is  that  as  which  mind  or  soul  appears.  Our  body 
consisting  of  the  same  material  as  the  things  of  the  surrounding 
world  and  having  originated  therefrom,  we  conclude  that  all  the 
world  consists  of  the  same  material.  All  that  which  appears  to  us 
as  matter  can,  if  it  but  assume  the  proper  form,  become  such  minds 
as  we  are  ;  in  a  word  :  all  existence  is  spiritual,  or  more  exactly 
speaking,  psychical.* 

The  psychology  of  Buddhism  is  briefly  laid  down  in  the  first 
verse  of  the  Dhammapada  : 


*  In  a  partial  accommodation  to  the  Buddhist  usage  of  terms,  who,  as  a  rule, 
translate  dtman  with  "soul"  and  that  which  we  would  call  "soul,"  i.  e.,  the  totality 
of  our  thoughts,  sensations,  and  aspirations  with  "mind,"  we  speak  here  of  "soul 
or  mind."  Otherwise,  and  according  to  a  stricter  usage  of  terms  we  propose  to  make 
a  distinction.  When  speaking  of  "soul,"  we  mean  mainly  the  feeling  or  sentient 
element  of  man's  existence  ;  when  of  mind,  we  think  mainly  of  the  intellectual  and 
rational  features  with  which  the  various  feelings  are  endowed.  Thus  it  would  have 
been  more  proper  for  Clifford  to  say  "soul-stuff"  instead  of  "mind-stuff";  and 
the  Buddhist  doctrine,  "everything  is  mind,"  should  be  expressed  in  the  sentence  : 
"  Every  reality  which  appears  to  sentient  beings  as  objective,  is  in  itself  subjective  ; 
we  call  it  matter,  but  it  is  in  itself  potential  feeling  ;  it  can  become  sentient,  it  is 
soul,  or  better,  soul-stuff."  For  details  of  definitions  see  Primer  of  Philosophy. 


KARMA  AND  NIRVANA.  421 

"All  that  we  are,  is  the  result  of  what  we  have  thought :  it  is  founded  on  our 
thoughts,  it  is  made  up  of  our  thoughts." 

This  shows  that  Buddhism  does  not  deny  the  existence  of  the 
soul,  if  by  soul  is  meant  man's  ideas,  aspirations,  and  mental  activi- 
ties. Buddhists  declare  that  man's  soul  is  not  an  indissoluble  unit, 
not  a  transcendental  self,  but  a  compound.  His  physical  and  spiritual 
being  consists  of  sangskaras,*  i.  e.,  of  certain  forms  and  formative 
faculties  which,  according  to  the  law  of  Karma,  preserve  his  exist- 
ence in  the  whirl  of  constant  changes.  Oldenberg  translates  the  word 
sangskara  by  Gestaltung,  and  says  in  explanation  of  the  term  (p.  242, 
Engl.  Transl.): 

' '  We  might  translate  Sawkhara  directly  by  '  actions  '  if  we  understand  this  word 
in  the  wide  sense  in  which  it  includes  also,  at  the  same  time,  the  internal  actions, 
the  will  and  the  wish." 

It  is  the  formative  element  which  shapes  our  existence  and  des- 
tiny. Oldenberg  continues  : 

"  Buddhism  teaches  :  '  My  action  is  my  possession,  my  action  is  my  inheritance, 
my  action  is  the  womb  which  bears  me,  my  action  is  the  race  to  which  I  am  akin, 
my  action  is  my  refuge.'  (Anguttara  Nikaya,  Pancaka  Nipata.)  What  appears  to 
man  to  be  his  body  is  in  truth  '  the  action  of  his  past  state  which  then  assuming  a 
form,  realised  through  his  endeavor,  has  become  endowed  with  a  tangible  existence.'  " 

The  Jewish-Christian  world-conception  represents  us  as  the 
creatures  of  God.  We  are  like  vessels  in  the  potter's  hand  ;  some 
of  us  are  made  for  noble  purposes,  others  as  vessels  of  impurity. 
Buddhists  look  upon  our  character  and  fate  as  the  result  of  our  own 
doings  in  our  present  and  innumerable  past  existences.  In  this 
sense  the  Dhammapadaf  says  : 

' '  By  oneself  the  evil  is  done  ;  by  oneself  one  suffers. 
By  oneself  evil  is  left  undone  ;  by  oneself  one  is  purified. 
Purity  and  impurity  belong  to  oneself,  no  one  can  purify  another. 
You  yourself  must  make  an  effort.     The  Buddhas  are  only  preachers. 
The  way  was  preached  by  me  when  I  understood  the  removal  of  the  thorns  in 
the  flesh." 

*The  customary  transcription  of  this  term  is  "  Samskara "  in  Sanskrit  and 
"  Sahkhara  "  in  Pali ;  the  dots  over  the  "  m  "  and  "  n  "  indicate  that  they  are  to  be 
pronounced  as  "ng"  in  English. 

•j-  Sacred  Books  of  the  East,  Vol.  X,  pp.  46  and  67. 


422  THE  MONIST. 

According  to  Buddhist  doctrines,  the  souls  of  men  continue  to 
exist  as  they  are  impressed  upon  other  generations  by  heredity  and 
education.  A  man  remains  the  same  from  yesterday  until  to-day,  and 
from  to-day  until  to-morrow,  in  so  far  as  he  consists  of  the  same  sangs- 
karas ;  his  character  remains  the  same,  exactly  as  a  light  burning 
several  hours  remains  the  same  light,  although  the  flame  is  always 
fed  by  other  particles  of  oil.*  The  man  of  the  same  character  as 
you,  is  the  same  as  you,  in  somewhat  the  same  sense  as  two  triangles 
of  equal  angles  and  sides  are  congruent.  This  is  tersely  expressed  in 
the  saying  Tat  twam  asi,  "That  art  thou,"  which  Schopenhauer  makes 
the  cornerstone  of  ethics,  for  this  view  of  the  soul,  recognising  one- 
self in  others,  removes  all  motives  of  selfishness. 

There  are  two  isolated  passages  in  the  Dhammapada  which 
apparently  are  a  contradiction  of  Buddha's  doctrine  of  the  illusion 
of  self.  We  read  in  verse  160  :  "Self  is  the  lord  of  self.  Who  else 
could  be  the  lord";  and  in  verse  323  :  "A  man  who  controls  him- 
self enters  the  untrodden  land  through'his  own  self-controlled  self." 
Prof.  Max  Miiller,  who  is  himself  a  champion  of  the  atman  doctrine, 
makes  the  most  of  these  passages,  in  proving  that  Buddha  might 
have  taught  the  existence  of  self.  But  his  proposition  is  improbable 
in  the  face  of  so  many  other  unequivocal  statements.  Moreover, 
the  general  meaning  of  the  quoted  sentences  is  unmistakable.  There 
is  no  reference  to  the  existence  of  a  self  in  the  sense  of  the  Brah- 
manical  atman.  The  author  of  these  passages— whether  Buddha 
himself,  or  a  Buddhist,  or,  what  is  not  improbable,  some  thinker 
older  than  Buddha — simply  means  that  "by  self-control  alone  man 
can  attain  salvation,"  but  we  have  no  right  to  interpret  the  words  in 
a  sense  which  would  antagonise  one  of  the  cardinal  doctrines  of 
Buddhism.  We  must  bear  in  mind  that  Buddha  does  not  deny  the 
existence  of  the  idea  of  self  in  man.  He  only  denies  the  existence 
of  a  soul-substratum  such  as  was  assumed  under  the  name  of  self 
by  the  most  prominent  philosophers  of  his  time.  Buddha  does  not 
deny  that  there  is  an  ego-consciousness  in  the  soul.  He  only  rejects 
the  assumption  that  our  ego-consciousness  is  the  doer  of  our  acts, 

*  This  simile  is  used  in  The  Questions  of  Milinda. 


KARMA  AND  NIRVANA.  423 

and  the  thinker  of  our  thoughts,  or  a  kind  of  thing-in-itself  behind 
our  existence. 

There  are  many  words  which  are  used  in  various  applications, 
implying  radically  different  or  even  contradictory  meanings,  and 
the  word  "  self  "  is  in  this  respect  no  exception.  Generally  speak- 
ing, self  is  that  idea  in  a  man's  mind  which  represents  the  totality 
of  his  existence,  his  bodily  form,  his  senses  and  their  activities,  his 
thoughts,  his  emotions,  his  likes  and  dislikes,  his  aspirations  and 
hopes.  Far  from  proposing  to  exterminate  self  in  this  sense,  Bud- 
dha's religion  preaches  the  elevation  and  sanctification  of  every  one's 
self,  so  much  so  that  Oldenberg  characterises  the  ethics  of  Bud- 
dhism as  self-culture  and  self-discipline  ("sittliche  Arbeit  an  sich 
selbst "),  as  expressed  in  verse  239  of  the  Dhammapada : 

"Let  a  wise  man  blow  off  the  impurities  of  his  self  as  a  smith  blows  off  the 
impurities  of  silver,  one  by  one,  little  by  little,  and  from  time  to  time." 

When  Buddhists  speak  of  the  illusion  of  self,  denouncing  the 
idea  of  self  as  the  main  cause  of  all  evil,  they  mean  that  erroneous 
notion  which  not  only  hypostatises  the  idea  of  self  into  an  indepen- 
dent being,  but  even  makes  of  it  the  metaphysical  agent  of  all  our 
activities.  The  adoption  of  this  metaphysical  self-conception  is 
said  to  warp  all  our  thoughts  and  to  dim  our  spiritual  vision ;  it 
makes  us  neglect  the  true  substance  of  our  soui  for  a  mere  shadow. 

Buddha,  while  denying  the  Brahmanical  theory  of  the  atman, 
offered  a  new  solution  of  the  problem  of  the  soul.  Says  Rhys  Davids 
in  his  "  Hibbert  Lectures,"  p.  29  : 

"The  distinguishing  characteristic  of  Buddhism  was  that  it  started  a  new  line, 
that  it  looked  upon  the  deepest  questions  men  have  to  solve  from  an  entirely  differ- 
ent standpoint.  It  swept  away  from  the  field  of  its  vision  the  whole  of  the  great 
soul-theory  which  had  hitherto  so  completely  filled  and  dominated  the  minds  of  the 
superstitious  and  the  thoughtful  alike.  For  the  first  time  in  the  history  of  the  world, 
it  proclaimed  a  salvation  which  each  man  could  gain  for  himself  and  by  himself,  in 
this  world,  during  this  life,  without  any  the  least  reference  to  God,  or  to  gods, 
either  great  or  small.  Like  the  Upanishads,  it  placed  the  first  importance  on  knowl- 
edge ;  but  it  was  no  longer  a  knowledge  of  God,  it  was  a  clear  perception  of  the  real 
nature,  as  they  supposed  it  to  be,  of  men  and  things.  And  it  added  to  the  necessity 
of  knowledge,  the  necessity  of  purity,  of  courtesy,  of  uprightness,  of  peace,  and  of 
a  universal  love  far-reaching,  grown  great  and  beyond  measure." 


424  THE  MONIST. 

While  Self,  thus,  that  hypothetical  agent  behind  the  soul,  disap- 
pears in  the  teachings  of  Buddhism,  the  conception  soul  or  mind  is 
not  abolished  and  the  idea  of  soul-transmigration  gains  a  new  im- 
portance. The  pre-Buddhistic  notion  of  a  soul  flitting  about  and 
seeking  a  new  abode  in  another  body  was  given  up  by  Sakyamuni 
for  the  more  correct  idea  of  a  transfer  of  the  Sangskaras  according  to 
the  law  of  Karma.  Buddhism  recognises  the  law  of  Karma  as  irre- 
fragable and  bases  upon  it  the  unfailing  justice  of  the  moral  law. 

Concerning  the  migration  of  souls  underlying  the  moral  of  the 
Jataka-tales  in  the  "Buddhist  Birth  Stories,"  Prof.  Rhys  Davids 
says  in  the  preface  to  his  translation,  p.  Ixxv : 

"The  reader  must  of  course  avoid  the  mistake  of  importing  Christian  ideas 
into  this  Conclusion  by  supposing  that  the  identity  of  the  persons  in  the  two  stories 
is  owing  to  the  passage  of  a  'soul'  from  the  one  to  the  other.  Buddhism  does  not 
teach  the  Transmigration  of  Souls.*  Its  doctrine  would  be  better  summarised  as  the 
Transmigration  of  Character  ;  for  it  is  entirely  independent  of  the  early  and  widely- 
prevalent  notion  of  the  existence  within  each  human  body  of  a  distinct  soul,  or 
ghost,  or  spirit." 

The  same  author  says  in  his  manual  of  "  Buddhism."  p.  104  : 

"As  one  generation  dies  and  gives  way  to  another — the  heir  of  the  consequences 
of  all  its  virtues  and  all  its  vices,  the  exact  result  of  pre-existing  causes  ;  so  each  in- 
dividual in  the  long  chain  of  life  inherits  all,  of  good  or  evil,  which  all  its  prede- 
cessors have  done  or  been ;  and  takes  up  the  struggle  towards  enlightenment  pre- 
cisely there,  where  they  have  left  it." 

Speaking  of  Karma,  Professor  Davids  explains  the  nature  of 
Buddhism  as  follows  : 

"  Most  forms  of  Paganism,  past  and  present,  teach  men  to  seek  for  some  sort  of 
happiness  here.  Most  other  forms  of  belief  say  that  this  is  folly,  but  the  faithful 
and  the  holy  shall  find  happiness  hereafter,  in  a  better  world  beyond.  Buddhism 
maintains  that  the  one  hope  is  as  hollow  as  the  other ;  that  the  consciousness  of  self 
is  a  delusion  ;  that  the  organised  being,  sentient  existence,  since  it  is  not  infinite, 
is  bound  up  inextricably  with  ignorance,  and  therefore  with  sin,  and  therefore  with 
sorrow.  'Drop  then  this  petty  foolish  longing  for  personal  happiness,'  Buddhism 
would  say!  'Here  it  comes  of  ignorance,  and  leads  to  sin,  which  leads  to  sorrow; 
and  there  the  conditions  of  existence  are  the  same,  and  each  new  birth  will  leave 
you  ignorant  and  finite  still.  There  is  nothing  eternal ;  the  very  cosmos  itself  is 

*  I.  e.,  of  atmans. 


KARMA  AND  NIRVANA.  425 

passing  away;  nothing  is,  everything  becomes  ;  and  all  that  you  see  and  feel,  bodily 
or  mentally,  of  yourself  will  pass  away  like  everything  else  ;  there  will  only  remain 
the  accumulated  result  of  all  your  actions,  words,  and  thoughts.*  Be  pure  then,  and 
kind,  not  lazy  in  thought.  Be  awake,  shake  off  your  delusions,  and  enter  resolutely 
on  the  "  Path"  which  will  lead  you  away  from  these  restless,  tossing  waves  of  the 
ocean  of  life  ; — the  Path  to  the  Joy  and  Rest  of  the  Nirvana  of  Wisdom  and  Good- 
ness and  Peace  ! '  " 

Rhys  Davids  says  :  "There  will  only  remain  the  accumulated 
result  of  all  your  actions,  words,  and  thoughts."  True;  but  why 
does  he  say  "only"?  The  accumulated  result  of  your  actions  (viz., 
your  sangskara)  are  your  own  being.  They  constitute  your  mind  so 
long  as  you  live,  and  there  is  no  self  behind  them,  no  ego,  no  atman, 
no  metaphysical  soul-monad.  Thus  it  appears  that,  according  to 
Buddhist  notions,  we  ourselves  continue  in  the  accumulated  results 
of  our  actions.  Since  Prof.  Rhys  Davids  fails  to  bear  in  mind  that 
our  Sangskaras  are  we  ourselves,  it  is  perhaps  natural  that  he,  al- 
though one  of  the  profoundest  of  Buddhist  scholars,  does  not,  in  spite 
of  his  perfect  knowledge  of  facts,  appreciate  the  importance  of  the 
Buddhistic  conception  of  Karma  and  the  migration  of  soul.  I  do 
not  say  that  he  misunderstands  this  part  of  the  Buddhist  doctrine  ; 
but  I  say  that  he  does  not  appreciate  it.  He  continues  the  passage 
just  quoted : 

"  Strange  is  it  and  instructive  that  all  this  should  have  seemed  not  unattractive 
these  2,300  years  and  more  to  many  despairing  and  earnest  hearts — that  they  should 
have  trusted  themselves  to  the  so  seeming  stately  bridge  which  Buddhism  has  tried 
to  build  over  the  river  of  the  mysteries  and  sorrows  of  life.  They  have  been  charmed 
and  awed  perhaps  by  the  delicate  or  noble  beauty  of  some  of  the  several  stones  of 
which  the  arch  is  built ;  they  have  seen  that  the  whole  rests  on  a  more  or  less  solid 
foundation  of  fact ;  that  on  one  side  of  the  keystone  is  the  necessity  of  justice,  on 
the  other  the  law  of  causality." 

Then,  he  adds  : 

"  But  they  have  failed  to  see  that  the  very  keystone  itself,  the  link  between  one 
life  and  another,  is  a  mere  word — this  wonderful  hypothesis,  this  airy  nothing,  this 
imaginary  cause  beyond  the  reach  of  reason — the  individualised  and  individualising 
force  of  Karma. 


*  Italics  are  ours. 


426  THE  MONIST. 

Prof.  Rhys  Davids  adds  in  a  foot-note  : 

' '  Individualised,  in  so  far  as  the  result  of  a  man's  actions  is  concentrated  in  the 
formation  of  a  second  sentient  being  ;  individualising,  in  so  far  as  it  is  the  force  by 
which  different  beings  become  one  individual.  In  other  respects  the  force  of  Karma 
is  real  enough." 

Modern  science  teaches  that  it  is  function  which  creates  the 
organ,  and,  vice  versa,  the  organ  is  but  the  visible  result  of  innumer- 
able former  functions.  This  may  be  considered  as  a  modern  restate- 
ment of  the  Buddhist  doctrine  of  the  Sangkharas.  All  the  seeings  of 
ancestral  eyes  continue  to  live  in  our  eyes.  Our  ancestors  are  not 
dead  ;  they  are  still  here  in  us  ;  and  by  ancestors  the  Buddhist  un- 
derstands not  only  progenitors,  but  also  those  who  formed  our  soul. 
Sakyamuni  says  to  his  father,  that  not  he  and  his  fathers,  the  Kings 
of  the  Sakya,  but  the  Buddhas  of  former  ages  were  his  ancestry. 

In  the  name  of  Buddhism,  I  venture  to  make  a  reply  to  Prof. 
Rhys  Davids  :  Buddhism  has  torn  down  the  imaginary  fence  which 
separates  man's  self  from  other  selves.  He  who  fails  to  see  the  link 
between  one  life  and  another,  or  speaks  of  it  as  an  "airy  nothing," 
still  holds  to  the  illusion  of  self.  He  who  abandons  the  idea  of  self 
must  recognise  the  sameness  of  two  souls  consisting  of  the  same 
Sangskaras.  Otherwise  we  ought  to  deny  also  the  sameness  of  the 
"  I  "  of  to-day  and  of  yesterday.  That  which  constitutes  the  identity 
of  person  in  one  and  the  same  individual  is  only  the  continuity  and 
the  sameness  of  his  character.  The  "  I  "  of  to-day  has  to  take  all  the 
consequences  of  the  actions  which  the  "  I  "  of  yesterday  performed. 
Thus  the  individualised  Karma  of  future  times  will  reap  all  that  which 
the  individualising  Karma  of  the  present  time  sows.* 

And,  strange  enough,  this  Buddhistic  conception  of  the  soul  is 
quite  in  harmony  with  the  views  of  the  most  prominent  psycholo- 
gists of  Europe. 

The  objection  may  be  urged  against  the  Buddhist  conception 
that  we  do  not  choose  to  look  upon  the  men  who  in  future  times  will 
represent  the  incarnation  of  our  Karma  as  identical  with  ourselves  ; 

*  For  an  excellent  restatement  of  the  Buddhist  conception  of  Karma  from  the 
pen  of  a  famous  naturalist,  see  the  quotation  from  Professor  Huxley's  lecture  on 
"Evolution  and  Ethics,"  on  page  412  of  the  present  number  of  The  Monist. 


KARMA  AND  NIRVANA. 


427 


we  prefer  to  look  upon  them  as  altogether  different  beings.  But 
here  the  Buddhists  will  have  the  advantage.  The  identity  obtains 
whether  it  be  recognised  or  not.  It  is  real,  for  the  laws  of  nature 
recognise  it ;  it  is  an  established  fact.  These  future  incarnations  of 
our  Karma  inherit  our  character,  together  with  all  its  blessings  and 
its  curses,  in  the  same  way  as  "I "  of  to-day  am  benefited  or  ham- 
pered by  my  actions  from  the  days  of  my  childhood,  it  matters  little 
whether  I  choose  to  recognise  the  identity  of  myself  or  not. 

We  can  have  no  proper  conception  of  the  action  of  the  moral 
law  until  we  understand  the  intercoherence  of  soul-life.  So  long  as 
we  cut  it  up  into  selves,  we  shall  never  cease  to  be  puzzled  with 
psychical,  philosophical,  and  moral  problems  which  appear  insolva- 
ble  and  incomprehensible. 

The  great  majority  of  people  who  consider  themselves  as  ortho- 
dox Christians  are  no  doubt  believers  in  the  atman  theory  of  the 
soul,  postulating  a  self  as  the  agent  behind  soul-life  and  looking 
upon  it  as  the  soul  proper  ;  yet  the  great  representative  authorities 
of  Christian  orthodoxy,  such  men  as  the  Apostle  St.  Paul,  Thomas 
Aquinas,  Eckhart,  Tauler,  Ignatius  Loyola,  and  many  others  show 
strong  tendencies  to  the  doctrine  of  anatman,  or  the  surrender  of 
the  self  as  the  soul  proper.  We  are  shocked  at  the  nihilism  of  the 
Buddhist  whose  highest  aspiration  it  is  to  root  out  his  soul,  viz.,  his 
atman  or  self,  in  order  to  attain  Nirvana  and  become  a  Buddha,  but 
we  take  no  offence  when  St.  Paul  says  :  "I  am  crucified  with  Christ, 
yet  not  I  but  Christ  liveth  in  me." 

THE  MEANING  OF  NIRViNA. 

We  have  learned  that  it  is  as  natural  as  it  is  erroneous  for  men 
exclusively  trained  in  Western  modes  of  thought,  to  look  upon  the 
principal  doctrine  of  Buddhist  psychology  as  a  bare  and  flat  denial 
of  the  soul.  In  the  same  way  and  for  similar  reasons  it  is  as  natural 
as  it  is  erroneous  for  Western  minds  educated  in  Christian  schools 
to  look  upon  the  Nirvana  of  Buddhism  as  an  annihilation,  and  to 
characterise  Buddhist  ethics  as  quietism. 

Nirvana,  the  ideal  goal  of  the  fully  enlightened  disciple  of  Bud- 
dha, is  the  most  important  term  in  the  religious  system  of  Buddhism  ; 


428  THE  MONIST. 

it  Is  the  corner-stone  of  the  whole  structure,  and  yet,  judging  from 
the  various  interpretations  of  the  word  and  the  controversies  that 
have  been  waged  about  its  meaning,  its  application  must  be  either 
very  ambiguous,  or  it  contains  great  difficulties  for  Western  minds. 

The  common  definition  of  "Nirvana"  among  all  Buddhists  is 
"deliverance,"  viz.,  deliverance  from  evil,  or  salvation.  The  ques- 
tion is,  what  is  the  nature  of  this  deliverance? 

The  etymology  of  the  word  is  obvious  enough.  Nirvana  means 
"extinction,"  viz.,  the  "extinction  of  self,"  which  is  generally  sup- 
posed to  be  the  definition  of  the  term  given  by  the  Hinayana  school 
of  the  old  southern  Buddhism.*  Those  representatives  of  the  Maha- 
yana  school  of  Japan,  however,  who  visited  the  World's  Parliament 
of  Religions,  are  wont  to  describe  Nirvana  as  "the  complete  attain- 
ment of  truth."  In  their  conception,  Nirvana  is  attained  by  the  ex- 
tinction of  the  illusion  of  self,  with  all  it  implies,  covetousness,  lust, 
and  all  sinful  desires. 

The  main  issue  of  all  the  discussions  concerning  the  term  Nir- 
vana is  the  problem  whether  it  must  be  conceived  as  a  positive  or  a 
negative  state  of  existence,  as  an  eternal  rest  or  a  life  in  paradise, 
as  a  complete  annihilation  or  the  bliss  of  absolute  perfection.  In 
order  to  settle  this  much  mooted  question,  not  by  an  a  priori  off- 
hand method,  but  by  systematically  consulting  the  old  Buddhist 
authorities,  the  Professors  F.  Max  Muller  and  Chil'ders  have  col- 
lected and  compared  great  numbers  of  passages  in  which  the  word 
Nirvana  occurs,  and  the  result  is  that  "there  is  not  one  passage 
which  would  require  that  its  meaning  should  be  annihilation,"  while 
"most,  if  not  all,"  would  thereby  "become  perfectly  unintelligible." 


*  Northern  Buddhists  make  a  distinction  between  Hinayana  or  ' '  small  vehicle  " 
(viz.,  of  salvation)  and  Mahayana  or  "great  vehicle";  the  former  is  the  Southern, 
the  latter  the  Northern  school  of  Buddhist  thought ;  the  former  prefers  to  some  ex- 
tent negative  and  philosophically  strict  definitions,  while  the  latter  aims  at  positive 
and  religious  expressions ;  the  former  represents  upon  the  whole  more  faithfully 
the  historical  traditions  of  Buddha,  while  the  latter,  in  their  aspiration  to  extend 
salvation  to  the  broad  masses  of  mankind,  have  admitted  many  fantastical  elements. 
We  must  add,  however,  that  these  contrasts  are  in  reality  not  so  sweeping  as  they 
appear  in  a  general  formula,  and  the  distinction  of  the  Hinayana  and  the  Maha- 
yana, although  very  convenient  for  certain  purposes,  is  admissible  only  within  cer- 
tain limits. 


KARMA  AND  NIRVANA.  429 

The  proposition  has  been  made  that  there  are  several  kinds  of 
Nirvana,  but  Professor  Childers  regards  this  theory  as  a  complete 
failure  ;  he  says  : 

"An  extraordinary  error,  originating,  I  think,  with  Burnouf,  and  repeated  un- 
suspectingly by  several  eminent  European  scholars,  has  done  much  to  involve  the 
question  of  Nirvana  in  needless  doubt  and  obscurity.  It  is  the  belief  that  there  are 
three  degrees  of  Nirvana,  viz.,  Nibbana,  Parinibbana,  and  Mahaparinibbana  (ordi- 
nary Nirvana,  complete  Nirvana,  and  the  great  complete  Nirvana).  This  idea  is 
strangely  wide  of  the  truth,  for  Parinibbana  means  merely  Nirvana,  or  the  attain- 
ment of  Nirvana,  and  Mahaparinibbana  means  nothing  more  than  the  death  of 
Buddha." 

Professor  Oldenberg  states  the  problem  of  Nirvana  in  the  fol- 
lowing passage  : 

"  Some  have  thought  to  find  the  answer  to  this  question  contained  in  the  word 
Nirvana  itself,  i.e.,  'Extinction.'  It  seemed  the  most  obvious  construction  that 
extinction  is  an  extinction  of  being  in  the  Nothing.  But  doubts  were  soon  expressed 
as  to  the  propriety  of  so  summary  a  disposal  of  this  question.  It  was  quite  allow- 
able to  speak  of  an  extinction  in  the  case — and  the  term  was  most  incontrovertibly 
used  by  the  Indians  in  the  case — where  being  was  not  annihilated,  but  where  it, 
freed  from  the  glowing  heat  of  suffering,  had  found  the  path  to  the  cool  repose  of 
painless  happiness.  Max  Miiller  has  above  all  others  maintained  with  warm  elo- 
quence the  notion  of  Nirvana  as  the  completion  but  not  as  an  extinction  of  being. 
His  position  is,  that  although  later  Buddhist  metaphysicians  have  undoubtedly  re- 
garded the  Nothing  as  the  supreme  object  of  all  effort,  yet  the  original  teaching  of 
Buddha  and  the  ancient  order  of  his  disciples  was  different  :  for  them  the  Nirvana 
was  nothing  more  than  the  entry  of  the  spirit  upon  its  rest,  an  eternal  beatitude, 
which  is  as  highly  exalted  above  the  joys,  as  it  is  above  the  sorrow,  of  the  transitory 
world.  Would  not,  asks  Max  Muller,  a  religion,  which  lands  us  at  last  in  the  Noth- 
ing, cease  to  be  a  religion  ?  It  would  no  longer  be  what  every  religion  ought  to  be 
and  purports  to  be,  a  bridge  from  the  temporal  to  the  eternal,  but  it  would  be  a  de- 
lusive gangway,  which  suddenly  breaks  off  and  shoots  a  man,  just  when  he  fancies 
he  has  reached  the  goal  of  the  eternal,  into  the  abyss  of  annihilation." 

Professor  Rhys  Davids  sums  up  his  discussion  of  the  meaning 
of  Nirvana  in  the  following  words : 

"  It  is  the  extinction  of  that  sinful,  grasping  condition  of  mind  and  heart,  which 
would  otherwise,  according  to  the  great  mystery  of  Karma,  be  the  cause  of  renewed 
individual  existence.  That  extinction  is  to  be  brought  about  by,  and  runs  parallel 
with,  the  growth  of  the  opposite  condition  of  mind  and  heart ;  and  it  is  complete 
when  that  opposite  condition  is  reached.  Nirvana  is  therefore  the  same  thing  as 


430  THE  MOM  1ST. 

a  sinless,  calm  state  of  mind ;  and  if  translated  at  all,  may  best,  perhaps,  be  ren- 
dered 'holiness' — holiness,  that  is,  in  the  Buddhist  sense,  perfect  peace,  goodness, 
and  wisdom." 

Professor  Childers  presents  us  with  a  careful  exposition  of  the 
problem  in  his  "Pali  Dictionary,"  sub  voce  Nibbana,  the  Pali  word 
for  Nirvana.  He  says  : 

"The  difficulty  is  this.  It  is  true  that  many  expressions  are  used  of  Nirvana 
which  seem  to  imply  annihilation,  but  on  the  other  hand,  other  equally  numerous 
and  equally  forcible  expressions  are  used  which  clearly  point  to  blissful  existence. 
Thus  Nirvana  is  called  Freedom  from  Human  Passion,  Purity,  Holiness,  Bliss, 
Happiness,  the  End  of  Suffering,  the  Cessation  of  Desire,  Peace,  Calm,  Tranquil- 
lity, and  so  on.  How  is  this  discrepancy  to  be  reconciled  ?  I  reply,  the  word  nib- 
bdna  is  applied  to  two  different  things,  first  that  annihilation  of  being  which  is  the 
goal  of  Buddhism,  and  secondly,  the  state  of  blissful  sanctification  called  arahatta, 
or  Arhatship,  which  terminates  in  annihilation.  This  fact  at  once  explains  the 
apparent  contradiction. 

'  'At  first  sight  it  may  appear  inexplicable  that  the  same  term  should  be  applied  to 
two  things  so  different  as  annihilation  and  blissful  existence  ;  but  I  think  I  am  able 
to  show  that  after  all  the  phenomenon  may  be  easily  accounted  for.  .  .  .  Thus,  if  we 
say  'Nirvana  is  the  reward  of  a  virtuous  life,1  this  may,  strictly  speaking,  mean  that 
annihilation  is  the  reward  of  a  virtuous  life  ;  but  since  annihilation  cannot  be  ob- 
tained without  Arhatship,  the  idea  that  Arhatship  is  the  reward  of  a  virtuous  life, 
inevitably  presents  itself  to  the  mind  at  the  same  time. 

"Although  expressions  like  'extinction  is  bliss'  may  sound  strange  or  even 
ridiculous  to  us,  who  have  from  our  earliest  infancy  been  taught  that  bliss  consists 
in  eternal  life,  to  a  Buddhist,  who  has  always  been  taught  that  existence  is  an  evil, 
they  appear  perfectly  natural  and  familiar  :  this  is  a  mere  question  of  education 
and  association  ;  the  words  '  extinction  is  bliss  '  convey  to  the  mind  of  a  Buddhist 
the  same  feeling  of  enthusiastic  longing,  the  same  consciousness  of  sublime  truth, 
that  the  words  'eternal  life  is  bliss'  convey  to  a  Christian." 

Thus  we  have  according  to  Professor  Childers  the  bliss  of  Ar- 
hatship and  the  complete  extinction  of  being,  one  as  the  cause  of 
the  other.  The  Arhat,  on  reaching  the  goal  of  Nirvana,  ceases  to 
exist  as  an  individual  person.  He  says  : 

"The  doctrine  of  Buddha  on  this  subject  is  perfectly  explicit ;  he  even  pre- 
dicted his  own  death.  Now,  to  be  the  ultimate  goal  of  Buddhism,  Arhatship  must 
be  an  eternal  state,  for  if  it  be  not  eternal,  it  must  sooner  or  later  terminate,  either 
in  annihilation,  or  in  a  state  which  is  not  blissful,  in  either  case  it  is  not  the  goal  of 
Buddhism.  But  since  Arhats  die  Arhatship  is  not  an  eternal  state,  and  therefore  it 


KARMA  AND  NIRVANA.  43! 

is  not  the  goal  of  Buddhism.  It  is  almost  superfluous  to  add  that  not  only  is  there 
no  trace  in  the  Buddhist  scriptures  of  the  Arhats  continuing  to  exist  after  death, 
but  it  is  deliberately  stated  in  innumerable  passages,  with  all  the  clearness  and 
emphasis  of  which  language  is  capable,  that  the  Arhat  does  not  live  again  after 
death,  but  ceases  to  exist.  There  is  probably  no  doctrine  more  distinctive  of  £akya- 
muni's  original  teaching  than  that  of  the  annihilation  of  being." 

This  solution  appears  to  be  nihilistic  ;  but  it  seems  to  me  that 
the  complete  annihilation  of  Gautama  Siddhartha  does  not  imply 
the  complete  annihilation  of  Buddha.  Buddha  is  said  to  have  en- 
tered Nirvana  when  he  died.  Yet  at  the  same  time  we  are  told  that 
Buddha  had  attained  Nirvana  already  during  his  life.  Indeed,  en- 
lightenment and  Nirvana  are,  among  all  Buddhists  of  the  Hinayana 
as  well  as  the  Mahayana  exact  synonyms.  Nirvana,  the  extinction 
of  the  illusion  of  self,  is  the  condition  of  enlightenment,  or  perfect 
understanding  of  truth.  A  Buddha  is  an  ideal  construction  of  a  man 
in  whom  all  error  and  the  consequences  of  error,  desires,  and  sin, 
have  been  abrogated  ;  his  will  is  purified,  his  thoughts  are  undimmed 
by  illusions,  and  his  mind  consists  of  a  perfect  knowledge  of  truth. 

There  is  among  orthodox  Buddhists  no  doubt  at  all  that  when 
a  Buddha  dies  his  physical  existence  is  dissolved  into  its  elements  ; 
and  this  dissolution  is  regarded  as  a  final  deliverance  of  that  part  of 
man's  nature  which  is  the  cause  of  pain  and  suffering  ;  but  the  truth, 
being  that  element  which  constitutes  his  Buddhahood,  remains. 
The  life  in  the  flesh  is  ended,  but  the  life  in  Nirvana  continues. 
Now,  as  Buddhahood  is  considered  the  aim  of  all  evolution  of  life, 
while  the  by-paths  of  sin  and  error,  which  consist  in  circles  of  use- 
less migrations,  lead  us  away  from  our  goal,  Buddha  is  praised  for 
having  escaped  the  painful  repetition  of  the  course  of  migrations. 
A  Buddha  has  reached  the  goal  and  has  attained  eternity.  He  is  re- 
born into  the  world  of  error,  only  to  appear  as  a  teacher  to  point  out 
to  others  the  escape  from  illusion,  sin,  and  death. 

According  to  the  orthodox  Buddhist  conception  there  is  no 
doubt  about  it  that  the  incarnation  of  Buddha  in  the  person  of  Gau- 
tama Siddhartha  has  passed  away.  Gautama  has  died  and  his  body 
will  not  be  resurrected.  But  Buddha  continues  to  live  in  the  body 
of  the  Dharma,  i.  e.,  the  law  or  religion  of  Buddha;  and,  in  so  far 


432  THE  MONIST. 

as  he  is  the  truth,  he  is  immortal  and  eternal.  The  whole  world  may 
break  to  pieces,  but  Buddha  will  not  die.  The  words  of  Buddha  are 
imperishable.  We  read  in  the  "Buddhist  Birth  Stories"  the  follow- 
ing remarkable  passage  which  strongly  reminds  us  of  Matthew  xxiv, 
35.*  One  of  the  Bodhisattvas,  taking  the  resolution  of  becoming  a 
Buddha,  says  : 

"  The  Buddhas  speak  not  doubtful  words,  the  Conquerors  speak  not  vain  words, 

There  is  no  falsehood  in  the  Buddhas, — verily  I  shall  become  a  Buddha. 

As  a  clod  cast  into  the  air  doth  surely  fall  to  the  ground, 

So  the  word  of  the  glorious  Buddhas  is  sure  and  everlasting. 

As  the  death  of  all  mortals  is  sure  and  constant, 

So  the  word  of  the  glorious  Buddhas  is  sure  and  everlasting, 

As  the  rising  of  the  sun  is  certain  when  night  has  faded, 

So  the  word  of  the  glorious  Buddhas  is  sure  and  everlasting. 

As  the  roaring  of  a  lion  who  has  left  his  den  is  certain, 

So  the  word  of  the  glorious  Buddhas  is  sure  and  everlasting. 

As  the  delivery  of  women  with  child  is  certain, 

So  the  word  of  the  glorious  Buddhas  is  sure  and  everlasting." 

Christ,  when  taking  leave  of  his  disciples,  comforts  them,  say- 
ing, "  Lo  I  am  with  you  alway  even  unto  the  end  of  the  world,"  and 
Buddha  expresses  the  same  idea  when  in  the  hour  of  his  death  the 
Mallas  are  anxious  to  behold  the  Blessed  One.  Buddha  says  : 

"  Seeking  the  way,  you  must  exert  yourselves  and  strive  with  diligence — it  is 
not  enough  to  have  seen  me  !  Walk,  as  I  have  commanded  you  ;  get  rid  of  all  the 
tangled  net  of  sorrow  ; 

"Walk  in  the  way  with  steadfast  aim.  ...  A  sick  man  depending  on  the  heal- 
ing power  of  medicine, 

"  Gets  rid  of  all  his  ailments  easily  without  beholding  the  physician.  He  who 
does  not  do  what  I  command  sees  me  in  vain,  this  brings  no  profit ; 

' '  Whilst  he  who  lives  far  off  from  where  I  am,  and  yet  walks  righteously,  is 
ever  near  me  !  A  man  may  dwell  beside  me,  and  yet,  being  disobedient,  be  far 
away  from  me."  {Sacred  Books  of  the  East,  XIX,  pp.  289-290.) 

He  who  knows  the  truth  and  leads  a  life  of  truth,  walking  in 
the  eightfold  path  of  righteousness,  has  attained  to  Nirvana  and  is 
with  Buddha.  And  this  view  can  only  be  called  nihilism  if  Truth 
is  an  unmeaning  word,  and  if  moral  aspirations  are  destructive  of 
life. 

*  Cf.  also  Mark  xiii,  31  ;  Luke  xvi,  17  ;  Luke  xxi,  33. 


KARMA  AND  NIRVANA.  433 

There  are  many  synonyms  and  explanatory  epithets  of  Nirvana, 
among  which  are  such  expressions  as  the  Imperishable,  the  Infinite, 
the  Eternal,  the  Everlasting,  the  Supreme,  the  Transcendent,  the 
Formless,  the  Void,  the  Unconditioned,  the  Goal,  the  Other  Shore, 
Rest,  the  True  or  the  Truth.  Nirvana  is  compared  to  "an  island 
which  no  flood  can  overwhelm,"  to  a  "  city  of  peace,"  the  "jewelled 
realm  of  happiness,"  "an  escape  from  the  dominion  of  Mara,"  the 
tempter,  or  the  evil  one  ;  and  the  disciple  of  Buddha,  we  are  told, 
will  overcome  "the  world,  the  world  of  Yama,*  and  the  world  of 
gods."  The  Siamese  always  refer  to  it  as  in  the  phrases  "Nirvana 
is  a  place  of  comfort  where  there  is  no  care  ;  lovely  is  the  glorious 
realm  of  Nirvana."  In  Chapter  XXVI  of  the  Dhammapada  we  read  : 

' '  When  you  have  understood  the  destruction  of  all  that  was  made,  you  will 
understand  that  which  was  not  made." 

The  most  negative  term  of  all  the  synonyms  of  Nirvana  is  the 
word  "  the  Void,"  and  its  mere  existence  in  Buddhist  books  appears 
to  favor  the  nihilistic  conception  of  Buddhism.  But  what,  in  that 
case,  shall  we  make  of  such  expressions  as  "the  voidness  alone  is 
self-existent  and  perfect"?  The  "abstract"  may  be  a  more  appro- 
priate translation  than  "the  void,"  at  least  it  would  be  less  objec- 
tionable to  those  who  have  devoted  themselves  to  the  study  of  the 
philosophers  of  abstract  thought. 

It  is  sometimes  difficult  to  understand  the  reason  why  an  idea 
such  as  hollowness  or  emptiness  or  voidness,  which  to  us  denotes 
the  absence  of  existence,  has  become  pregnant  with  meaning  in  other 
languages  ;  and  we  must  be  careful  not  to  impute  the  negativism  of 
our  speech  to  the  thought  of  others.  Thus  we  find,  on  an  old  palm- 
leaf  manuscript  written  in  Sanskrit  and  preserved  since  609  A.  D. 
in  the  Buddhist  monastery  of  Horiuzi,  Japan,  "emptiness"  identi- 
fied with  "form  "; f  and  that  most  remarkable  philosopher  of  China, 
Laou-tze,  gives  us  the  key  to  the  probable  solution  of  the  problem 
when  he  says  in  "Tao-Teh-King,"  XI  : 

*  The  god  of  Death 

f  See  page  48  in  The  Ancient  Palmleaves,  edited  by  F.  Max  Miiller  and  Bunyin 
Nanjio.     Appendix  by  G.  Biihler.      (Oxford,  1884.) 


434  THE  MONIST. 

"  The  thirty  spokes  unite  in  the  one  nave  ;  but  it  is  on  the  empty  space  (for  the 
axle),  that  the  use  of  the  wheel  depends.  Clay  is  fashioned  into  vessels  ;  but  it  is 
on  their  empty  hollowness  that  their  use  depends.  The  door  and  windows  are  cut 
out  (from  the  walls)  to  form  an  apartment  ;  but  it  is  on  the  empty  space  (within), 
that  its  use  depends.  Therefore,  what  has  a  (positive)  existence  serves  for  profitable 
adaptation,  and  what  has  not  that  for  (actual)  usefulness." 

Buddha  himself  abstained  from  making  any  positive  statements 
as  to  the  nature  of  Nirvana.  Whether  we  call  it  by  positive  or  nega- 
tive names  is  a  matter  of  indifference  and  does  not  conduce  to  holi- 
ness. In  this  sense  Buddha  answers  the  question  of  Malukya : 
"Does  the  Tathagata  live  on  beyond  death  or  does  he  not  live  on 
beyond  death  ?  "  Buddha  says  : 

"  If  a  man  were  struck  by  a  poisoned  arrow,  and  his  friends  and  relatives  called 
in  a  skilful  physician,  what  if  the  wounded  man  said,  '  I  shall  not  allow  my  wound 
treated  until  I  know  who  the  man  is  by  whom  I  have  been  wounded,  whether  he  is 
a  noble,  a  Brahman,  a  Vai9ya,  or  Cudra,' — or  if  he  said,  'I  shall  not  allow  my 
wound  to  be  treated  until  I  know  what  they  call  the  man  who  has  wounded  me, 
and  of  what  family  he  is,  whether  he  is  tall,  or  small,  or  of  middle  stature,  and  how 
his  weapon  was  made  with  which  he  has  struck  me.'  " 

This  much  is  certain,  that  Buddha,  while  speaking  of  the  bliss 
of  Nirvana,  denied  the  continued  existence  of  man's  individualised 
body.  Arhatship  was  eternal  to  him,  but  the  Arhat  dies. 

Surrounded  by  these  difficulties  and  contradictory  opinions,  let 
us  bear  in  mind  how  close  the  resemblance  is  between  the  Buddhist 
idea  of  Nirvana  and  the  Christian  hope  of  Heaven.  It  has  often 
been  remarked  that  many  passages  of  the  sacred  writings  of  Bud- 
dhism would  remain  perfectly  intelligible  if  we  replace  the  word 
Nirvana  by  Heaven.  This  would,  in  one  respect,  be  very  mislead- 
ing ;  Christians  cling  to  the  idea  that  in  heaven  the  personality  of 
the  soul  is  preserved  as  a  separate  and  discrete  entity.  The  Chris- 
tian hope  of  resurrection  longs  for  a  preservation  of  the  ego,  not 
of  the  mind.  And  on  this  point  Buddhism  is  very  unequivocal. 
Buddha  denies  the  existence  of  any  soul-substratum,  or  ego- entity; 
he  rejects  the  old  Brahmanical  doctrine  of  the  atman,  or  self,  which 
is  said  to  be  the  transcendental  subject  of  man's  sensations,  thoughts, 
and  volitions.  But  while  there  is  an  obvious  difference  between 
Nirvana  and  Heaven,  there  is  also  a  close  resemblance  not  only  of 


KARMA  AND  NIRVANA.  435 

allegorical  expressions  and  in  descriptions  of  mystics,  but  also  in 
the  attempt  at  defining  its  nature  in  exact  terms.  There  are  some 
remarkable  passages  in  the  New  Testament,  one  of  which  indicates 
not  less  clearly  that  the  final  aim  of  Christ's  mission  is  the  oblitera- 
tion of  personality  by  saying,  "that  God  may  be  all  in  all,"  (I  Cor. 
xv,  28)  and  this  final  aim  is  characterised  in  the  words  :  "There 
remaineth  therefore  a  rest  for  the  people  of  God  "  (Hebr.  iv,  9). 
Comparing  this  rest  to  a  great  Sabbath  the  Apostle  says  :  "He  that 
is  entered  into  his  rest,  he  also  has  ceased  from  his  own  works  as 
God  did  from  his.  Let  us  labor  therefore  to  enter  into  that  rest." 
And  Jesus  himself  says,  "Take  my  yoke  upon  you  .  .  .  and  ye  shall 
find  rest  unto  your  souls."  In  the  face  of  these  passages  we  can 
scarcely  say  that  Christianity  regards  Heaven  as  a  locality,  and  when 
we  try  to  define  positively  what  the  orthodox  Christian  position  is, 
or  ought  to  be,  we  shall  find  ourselves  implicated  in  no  less  intricate 
historico-philological  problems  than  our  Pali  scholars  are  in  their 
investigations  of  Nirvana.  When  Christian  missionaries  discovered 
some  Christian  color-prints  of  Jesus  and  biblical  stories  in  Thibet, 
the  Lama  (as  we  read  in  Schlagintweit's  "Buddhism  in  Thibet,"  p. 
99)  presented  to  them  his  view  of  the  Christian  salvation,  as  follows  : 

"  Christianity  does  not  afford  final  emancipation.  According  to  the  principles 
of  their  religion,  he  said,  the  pious  are  rewarded  with  a  re-birth  amongst  the  ser- 
vants of  the  supreme  God,  when  they  are  obliged  to  pass  an  eternity  in  reciting 
hymns,  psalms,  and  prayers  in  his  glory.  Such  beings,  he  argued,  are  consequently 
not  yet  freed  from  metempsychosis,  for  who  can  assert  that  in  the  event  of  their  re- 
laxing in  the  duty  assigned  them,  they  shall  not  be  expelled  from  the  world  where 
God  resides  and  in  punishment  be  re-born  in  the  habitation  of  the  wretched." 

Schlagintweit  adds  : 
"  He  must  have  heard  of  the  expulsion  of  the  bad  angels  from  Heaven." 

The  Lamaistic  misconception  of  the  Christian  Heaven  seems  to 
be  analogous  to  the  Christian  misconception  of  the  Buddhist  Nir- 
vana. One  is  quite  as  excusable  as  the  other. 

Schlagintweit  says,  that  "  genuine  Buddhism  rejects  the  idea  of 
a  particular  locality  being  appropriated  to  Nirvana,"  and  Nagasena 
says  to  King  Milinda,  "Nirvana  is  wherever  the  precepts  can  be 
observed  ...  it  may  be  anywhere."  When  these  passages  are  com- 


436  THE  MONIST. 

pared  with  the  doctrine  of  Jesus,  who  says:  "  The  kingdom  of  God  is 
within  you,"  we  should  not  be  astonished  to  find  some  mystic  La- 
mas of  Thibet  declare  that  since  the  Christian  doctrine  of  Heaven, 
according  to  Christ's  own  teaching,  does  not  imply  the  positive  ex- 
istence of  a  domain  somewhere  in  space,  it  implies  an  utter  and 
desolate  nihilism. 

Schlagintweit  *  says  :  "  The  sacred  Buddhist  books  declare  at 
every  occasion  that  it  is  impossible  positively  to  define  the  attributes 
and  properties  of  Nirvana. "  A  Thibetan  Buddhist  scholar  might 
say  the  same  thing  to  his  countrymen  in  explanation  of  the  Chris- 
tian conception  of  Heaven. 

If  we  were  to  hunt  for  Christian  expressions  of  Heaven  which 
are  similar  to  the  Buddhist  similes  of  Nirvana,  we  could  find  plenty 
of  them,  especially  in  the  sermons  of  the  mystics.  Those  who  are  in- 
clined to  philosophical  speculation  present  the  closest  approach  to 
a  so-called  negative  formulation  :  Heaven,  not  otherwise  than  Nir- 
vana, is  praised  as  an  utter  extermination  of  self ;  self  disappears  in 
the  omnipresence  of  God,  and  reappears  only  as  the  transfigured 
standard-bearer  of  the  cause  of  righteousness. 

Whether  or  not  this  view  is  to  be  regarded  as  nihilism  should  be 
judged  from  the  course  of  ethics  which  is  derived  from  it.  If  Bud- 
dhistic ethics  are  correctly  characterised  as  quietism,  we  can  justly 
classify  its  doctrines  as  nihilism.  Now  we  find  that  the  same  objections 
made  by  Western  people  must  have  been  made  in  Buddha's  time  by 
men  trained  in  the  schools  of  Brahmanism  ;  there  is  a  passage  in  the 
Mahavagga  in  which  Buddha  very  plainly  expounds  his  view  of  ac- 
tion and  non-action.  He  admits  that  he  teaches  a  certain  kind  of 
quietism,  but  he  vigorously  rejects  the  quietism  of  indolence  and  in- 
activity. We  read  in  VI,  31,  4  : 

"  Siha,  the  general,  said  to  the  Blessed  One  :  'I  have  heard,  Lord,  that  the 
Samawa  Gotama  denies  the  result  of  actions  ;  he  teaches  the  doctrine  of  non-action, 
and  in  this  doctrine  he  trains  his  disciples.  Now,  Lord,  those  who  speak  thus,  .  .  . 
do  they  say  the  truth  or  do  they  bear  false  witness  against  the  Blessed  One,  and  pass 
off  a  spurious  Dhamma  as  your  Dhamma  ? '  " 

*Z.  f.,  p.  99. 


KARMA  AND  NIRVANA.  437 

The  answer  given  by  Buddha  is  as  follows  : 

"  There  is  a  way,  Siha,  in  which  one  speaking  truly  could  say  of  me:  'The 
Samara  Gotama  denies  action  ;  he  teaches  the  doctrine  of  non-action  ;  and  in  this 
doctrine  he  trains  his  disciples.' 

'  'And  again,  Siha,  there  is  a  way  in  which  one  speaking  truly  could  say  of  me  : 
'  The  Samawa  Gotama  maintains  action  ;  he  teaches  the  doctrine  of  action  ;  and  in 
this  doctrine  he  trains  his  disciples.' 

'  'And  in  which  way  is  it,  Siha,  that  one  speaking  truly  could  say  of  me  :  '  The 
Sa.ma.na.  Gotama  denies  action  ;  he  teaches  the  doctrine  of  non-action  ;  and  in  this 
doctrine  he  trains  his  disciples  ?'  I  teach,  Siha,  the  not-doing  of  such  actions  as  are 
unrighteous,  either  by  deed,  or  by  word,  or  by  thought ;  I  teach  the  not  bringing 
about  of  the  manifold  conditions  (of  heart)  which  are  evil  and  not  good.  In  this 
way,  Siha,  one  speaking  truly  could  say  of  me  :  'The  Samara  Gotama,  etc.' 

'  'And  in  which  way  is  it,  Siha,  that  one  speaking  truly  could  say  of  me  :  '  The 
Sa.ma.na  Gotama  maintains  action  ;  he  teaches  the  doctrine  of  action  ;  and  in  this 
doctrine  he  trains  his  disciples  ? '  I  teach,  Siha,  the  doing  of  such  actions  as  are 
righteous,  by  deed,  by  word,  and  by  thought :  I  teach  the  bringing  about  of  the 
manifold  conditions  (of  heart)  which  are  good  and  not  evil.  In  this  way,  etc." 

In  the  same  strain  Buddha  explains  his  doctrine  of  annihilation 
and  contemptibleness,  not  as  an  absolute  annihilation,  but  as  an 
annihilation  of  sin  and  man's  hankering  after  sin.  He  says  : 

"I  proclaim,  Siha,  the  annihilation  of  lust,  of  ill-will,  of  delusion.  .  .  . 

"  I  deem,  Siha,  unrighteous  actions  contemptible.  .  .  . 

"  He  who  has  freed  himself,  Siha,  from  all  conditions  (of  heart)  which  are  evil 
and  not  good,  which  ought  to  be  burned  away,  who  has  rooted  them  out,  and  has 
done  away  with  them  as  a  palm  tree  is  rooted  out,  so  that  they  are  destroyed  and 
cannot  grow  up  again — such  a  person  do  I  call  accomplished  in  Tapas."  *  (Sacrea 
Books  of  the  East,  Vol.  XVII,  pp.  no,  114.) 

Far  from  preaching  quietism,  Buddha's  sermons,  parables,  and 
sentences  abound  in  exhortations  to  indefatigable  and  energetic  ac- 
tivity. We  read  in  the  Dhammapada  : 

"  He  who  does  not  rouse  himself  when  it  is  time  to  rise,  who  though  young  and 
strong,  is  full  of  sloth,  whose  will  and  thought  are  weak,  that  lazy  and  idle  man  will 
never  find  the  way  to  knowledge  [enlightenment] . 

"  If  anything  is  to  be  done,  let  a  man  do  it,  let  him  attack  it  vigorously."  f 

*The  literal  meaning  of  Tapas  is  "burning";  it  means  self -mortification. 
Buddha  rejects  self-  mortification  and  substitutes  for  it  the  eradication  of  all  sinfu 
desire. 

\Ibid..  pp.  .68  and  75. 


438  THE  MONIST. 

The  difficulty  to  a  Western  mind  in  the  comprehension  of  the 
term  Nirvana  lies  mainly  in  our  habit  of  conceiving  the  nature  of 
the  soul  in  the  old  Brahmanical  sense  of  an  ego-entity  as  the  doer 
of  our  acts,  the  perceiver  of  our  sensations,  and  the  thinker  of  our 
thoughts.  In  ninety-nine  cases  out  of  a  hundred,  he  who  denies  the 
existence  of  that  metaphysical  being  is  understood  by  people  edu- 
cated in  our  present  modes  of  thought  as  denying  the  existence  of 
our  soul  itself. 

Buddha  taught  the  non-existence  of  the  self,  and  understood  by 
self  the  atman  of  the  philosophers  of  his  time.  Again  and  again  he 
inculcates  the  emphatic  injunction  that  the  illusion  of  self  must  be 
overcome.  The  illusion  of  self  is  the  secret  cause  of  all  selfishness ; 
it  begets  all  those  evil  desires  (covetousness,  greed  of  power,  and 
lust)  of  which  man  must  free  himself.  As  soon  as  the  illusion  of 
self  is  overcome,  we  cease  to  think  of  injuring  others  for  the  benefit 
of  ourselves. 

The  Buddhist  conception  of  Nirvana  is  most  assuredly  not  the 
annihilation  of  thought,  but  its  completion  and  perfection.  We  read 
in  the  Dhammapada,  verse  2T  : 

' '  Earnestness  is  the  path  of  immortality  (Nirvana),  thoughtlessness  the  path  of 
death.  Those  who  are  in  earnest  do  not  die  ;  those  who  are  thoughtless  are  as  if 
dead  already." 

This  does  not  savor  of  nihilism. 

Buddhism  is  commonly  classified  as  pessimism.  This  is  true 
in  so  far  as  the  Buddhist  recognises  the  existence  of  suffering,  but 
it  is  not  true  if  by  pessimism  is  to  be  understood  that  world-pain 
which  gives  up  life  and  the  duties  of  life  in  despair.  Says  Olden- 
berg,  speaking  of  the  Buddhist  canon  : 

' '  Some  writers  have  often  represented  the  tone  prevailing  in  it,  as  if  it  were 
peculiarly  characterised  by  a  feeling  of  melancholy  which  bewails  in  endless  grief 
the  unreality  of  being.  In  this  they  have  altogether  misunderstood  Buddhism.  The 
true  Buddhist  certainly  sees  in  this  world  a  state  of  continuous  sorrow,  but  this  sor- 
row only  awakes  in  him  a  feeling  of  compassion  for  those  who  are  yet  in  the  world; 
for  himself  he  feels  no  sorrow  or  compassion,  for  he  knows  he  is  near  his  goal  which 
stands  awaiting  him,  noble  beyond  all  else." 

The  good  tidings  of  Buddha's  religion  are  not  so  much  the 


KARMA  AND  NIRVANA. 


439 


recognition  of  the  existence  of  pain  and  care  as  the  conquest  of  evil 
and  the  escape  from  suffering.  The  following  verses  from  the 
Dhammapada  have  no  pessimistic  ring  : 

' '  Let  us  live  happily  then,  not  hating  those  who  hate  us  !  Among  men  who 
hate  us,  let  us  dwell  free  from  hatred  ! 

' '  Let  us  live  happily  then,  free  from  ailments  among  the  ailing  !  Among  men 
who  are  ailing,  let  us  dwell  free  from  ailments  ! 

' '  Let  us  live  happily  then,  free  from  greed  among  the  greedy  !  Among  men 
who  are  greedy,  let  us  dwell  free  from  greed  !  " 

The  Buddhist  Nirvana,  accordingly,  can  only  be  conceived  as  a 
negative  condition  by  those  who  are  still  entangled  in  the  illusion  of 
self.  Nirvana  is  not  death  but  eternal  life,  not  annihilation  but  im- 
mortality, not  destruction  but  indestructibility.  Were  truth  and 
morality  negative,  Nirvana  would  be  negative  also  ;  as  they  are  posi- 
tive, Nirvana  is  positive.  The  soul  of  every  man  continues  in  what 
Buddhists  call  his  Karma,  and  he  who  attains  Buddhahood  becomes 
thereby  identical  with  truth  itself,  which  is  everlasting  and  omnipres- 
ent, pervading  not  only  this  world  system,  but  all  other  worlds  that 
are  to  be  in  the  future.  For  truth  is  the  same  to-day  as  it  will  be 
to-morrow.  Truth  is  the  water  of  life,  it  is  the  ambrosia  of  the  soul. 
The  more  our  mind  rids  itself  of  selfishness  and  partakes  of  the 
truth,  the  higher  shall  we  rise  into  that  domain  where  all  tribula- 
tions and  anxieties  have  disappeared,  for  there  sin  is  blotted  out  and 
death  conquered. 

EDITOR. 


LITERARY  CORRESPONDENCE. 

FRANCE. 

THE  Psychologic  des  idees-forces  will  undoubtedly  remain  M. 
FOUILL£E'S  definitive  work.  We  meet  here  again  the  quali- 
ties of  the  vigorous  dialectician,  of  the  eloquent  and  incisive  writer, 
so  prominently  displayed  in  M.  Fouille'e's  previous  works,  and  we 
remark  again  the  author's  intellectual  subtlety,  his  marvellous  skill 
in  eluding  the  objections  which  apparently  he  meets,  and  his  great 
familiarity  with  the  dangerous  art  of  interchanging  problems.  He 
has  undertaken^  however,  a  work  of  import  and  magnitude,  which 
cannot  fail  to  instruct  the  minds  of  his  opponents  on  many  points. 
Whether  it  is  absolutely  new,  whether  it  marks  the  outbreak  of  a 
revolution  in  this  department  of  thought,  are  questions  of  a  different 
cast.  Let  us  look  more  closely  into  the  matter,  keeping  in  mind  its 
principal  idea. 

The  great  object  of  M.  Fouill£e  (I  have  spoken  of  it  before  in 
The Monist}  is  to  substitute  for  the  psychology  of  "representations" 
a  psychology  of  "actions  and  reactions."  "In  every  state  of  con- 
sciousness," he  says,  "there  exists  always  a  volition  opposed  to  or 
in  favor  of  some  action,  and  not  simply  a  form  of  passive  represen- 
tation." At  the  bottom  of  all  is  "  appetition,"  a  dynamical  element 
distinct  from  the  qualitative  element,  which  is  the  reason  that  ideas 
are  forces.  "  The  fundamental  element,  germinal  in  all  living  cells, 
is  appetite,  accompanied  by  more  or  less  agreeable  or  painful  emo- 
tions, concomitant  with  this  or  that  motion,  and  provoking  this  or 
that  motor  reaction." 

It  is  easy  to  interpret  on  these  principles  the  facts  of  reflex  mo- 


LITERARY  CORRESPONDENCE.  44! 

tion,  pleasure,  pain,  memory,  etc.  I  can  only  point  out  here  the 
ultimate  conclusions  to  which  M.  Fouille"e  leads  us,  and  for  the  rest 
we  may  say  that  the  most  interesting  feature  of  M.  FouilleVs  work 
is  not  his  psychology,  but  his  metaphysics,  taking  that  word  in  its 
best  sense. 

"A  science  more  advanced  than  ours,"  he  writes,  "will  find 
life  everywhere,  and  with  life  also  mentality  to  a  certain  extent, 
sensation,  and  appetite ;  but  to  reach  this  stage  thinkers  must  exor- 
cise the  ghost  of  the  unconscious."  Rather  than  accept  materialism 
with  the  dualism  which  it  implies,  "it  is  more  logical,"  he  main- 
tains, "to  assume  that  the  thinking  and  willing  subject  has  a  mode 
of  action  that  blends,  or  is  identical,  with  the  fundamental  mode  of 
action  of  objects,  and  that  ideas  are  the  true  realities,  which  in  the 
brain  have  simply  reached  a  higher  state  of  consciousness.  .  .  .  Will, 
being  diffused  everywhere  in  the  universe,  need  only  reflect  itself 
progressively  upon  itself,  thereby  acquiring  greater  intensity  of  con- 
sciousness, to  become  in  us  sentiment  and  thought."  And  again, 
"the  principle  destined  to  dominate  psychology  will  be  ubiquity  of 
consciousness  and  of  will  under  forms  more  or  less  rudimentary,  but 
all  of  which  envelop  a  germ  of  discernment,  a  germ  of  well-being  or 
ill-being,  in  fine,  a  germ  of  preference,  and  consequently  that  fun- 
damental process  of  which  the  idee-force  is  the  highest  form." 

In  fine,  appetite  is  at  the  bottom  of  all  and  is  accompanied 
from  the  outset  with  pleasure  and  pain,  with  consciousness.  These 
are  the  two  facts,  or  the  two  hypotheses,  about  which  M.  Fouillee 
masses  all  his  psychological  conceptions,  combating  the  idealists  in 
the  name  of  the  first,  the  evolutionists  in  the  name  of  the  second, 
finally  to  arrive  at  a  reconciliation  of  all  idealism  and  naturalism  in 
the  conception  of  the  idee-force,  the  idee-activite,  which  will  refer 
to  the  same  physiological  unit,  will,  appetite,  and  consciousness. 

But  is  it  not  just  as  true  to  say  that  our  representations — our 
images,  that  is,  the  world  of  perception — mask  actions  and  reactions 
in  the  eyes  of  psychologists?  Does  not  psychology,  in  fine,  when  it 
treats  of  emotions,  pleasure  and  pain,  attention  and  character,  really 
ascend  to  this  very  same  primitive  fact,  here  baptised  appetite,  de- 
sire, tendency,  and  so  forth?  To  say,  with  M.  Fouille'e,  a  reflex  ac- 


442  THE  MONIST. 

tion  is  appetitive  and  not  exclusively  mechanical,  is  to  insist  upon 
a  quality  of  the  phenomenon  which  is  supposed  in  the  mechanism 
itself.  If  pleasure  and  pain  become  "states  of  consciousness"  it  is 
owing  to  a  property  of  living  matter.  And  as  for  memory,  the  sole 
fact  of  the  diversity  of  memories,  the  foundation  of  aptitudes,  seems 
to  me  to  imply  particular  states  of  that  sensibility,  or  appetite,  which 
M.  Fouille"e  tells  us  is  its  principal  element.  It  would  seem,  then, 
that  we  only  say  what  he  does  when  we  present  states  of  conscious- 
ness as  the  psychological  expression  of  physiological  states,  which 
we  declare  equivalent.  But  M.  Fouille"e's  endeavors  are  directed 
beyond  this  point,  namely,  to  reducing  the  physiological  to  the  psy- 
chological, the  physical  to  the  mental. 

With  respect  to  recognising  "life  everywhere  and  with  life 
mentality  to  a  certain  extent,  sensation,  and  appetite,"  this  is  a 
mode  of  conception  which  does  not  detract  in  the  least  from  the 
validity  of  previous  psychological  researches.  For  even  though 
consciousness  exist  from  the  beginning,  it  is  yet  necessary  to  point 
out  the  stages  of  development  at  which  it  becomes  pronounced 
and  apparent.  There  is  nothing  in  esse,  we  might  say,  which  was 
not  in  the  beginning  in  potentia.  The  interest  of  science  is  satisfied 
with  nothing  short  of  a  real  understanding  of  the  modes  by  which 
things  pass  from  potentiality  to  being,  and  of  a  clear  exhibition  of 
the  genesis  and  evolution  of  that  "consciousness,"  whose  different 
states  of  being  are  so  characteristic.  When  M.  Fouillee  speaks  of 
"the  permanence  and  the  transformation  of  the  modes  of  psychical 
energy,"  we  agree  with  him.  From  nothing  we  can  extract  nothing. 
But  this  surely  does  not  stand  in  the  way  of  our  attempting  to  dis- 
cover how  a  thing  originates  from  something  and  transforms  itself 
into  something,  for  there  is  always  some  additional  thing  interjected 
which  is  an  epiphenomenon,  or  which  at  least  is  extraneously  dis- 
played and  comes  to  enrich  the  primitive  phenomenon,  whatever 
our  central  hypothesis  may  be.  . 

Now,  in  so  far  as  the  hypothesis  of  M.  Fouillee  consists  of  the 
statement  that  the  thinking  and  willing  subject  has  a  mode  of  action 
which  blends  with  the  fundamental  mode  of  action  'of  the  object 
(Fobjet  pens&e))  I  do  not  dispute  it,  and  perhaps  up  to  this  point  our 


LITERARY  CORRESPONDENCE.  443 

whole  difference  is  restricted  to  a  somewhat  different  method  of 
grouping  known  facts  and  of  displaying  our  results.  But  if  we  go 
further  and  proclaim  that  ideas  and  will  are  -the  sole  realities,  the 
hypothesis  assumes  a  less  positive  character.  It  is  either  Plato  or 
it  is  Schopenhauer,  and  this  does  not  exactly  satisfy  us.  We  have 
not  a  very  extensive  knowledge  of  ideas  or  of  will ;  and  we  shall 
abide  by  our  knowledge  of  our  representations  and  by  the  feeling  of 
our  personal  emotions. 

The  work  of  M.  Fouille'e,  however,  will  not  have  been  in  vain. 
It  will  save  us  from  reaction  to  materialistic  metaphysics  and  a  great 
many  are  still  in  need  of  this  assistance.  That  which  is  true  and 
which  must  be  retained  is  that  we  do  not  explain  consciousness. 
As  soon  as  we  attempt  to  do  it  without  expressly  assuming  it,  we 
arrive  in  some  form  or  other  at  a  noumenon.  Herbert  Spencer  has 
not  avoided  this  rock,  and  howsoever  more  coherent  the  metaphys- 
ics of  the  idee-force  is,  it  also  does  not  deliver  us  from  this  difficulty. 

* 
*  * 

M.  PAUL  CARUS  gives  us  a  French  edition  wholly  recast  of  his 
book  The  Soul  of  Man,  under  the  new  title  of  Le  probleme  de  la  con- 
science du  moi.  The  work  is  too  well  known  to  the  readers  of  The 
Monist  for  me  to  speak  of  it  in  this  place.  I  hope  that  it  will  not  be 
without  wide  influence  in  our  country,  and  I  should  be  greatly  sur- 
prised if  the  spirit  of  high  moral  and  religious  organisation,  which 
inspires  all  the  writings  of  M.  Carus,  did  not  soon  attract  the  atten- 
tion of  many  persons  in  France.  For  our  situation  in  this  respect 
is  a  very  singular  one.  With  us,  psychological  research  has,  espe- 
cially during  the  last  two  decades,  constituted  nearly  all  of  philos- 
ophy. Our  reserve  on  the  subject  of  vast  intellectual  constructions 
is  extreme,  and  we  have  come  to  a  standstill  before  the  barriers  of 
positivism  established  by  August  Comte.  With  regard  to  the  reli- 
gious problem  this  reserve  amounts  almost  to  indifference.  In  fact, 
on  this  subject  we  are  plunged  in  an  almost  incurable  scepticism, 
which  has  its  most  pronounced  representatives  in  our  real  philoso- 
phers. The  generation  of  1848,  or  at  least  a  small  group  of  that 
generation,  attempted  a  restoration  of  liberal  Christianism  ;  but  that 
was  too  much,  or,  rather,  too  little.  To-day,  if  religiosity  seems  to 


444  THE  MONIST. 

be  renascent,  it  is  only  in  the  decadent  literature  and  only  under  the 
color  of  mysticism.  And  we  cannot  expect  any  efficacious  results 
from  troubled  spirits  and  feeble  hearts.  Our  decadents,  in  fact, 
only  cultivate  their  egos ;  they  are  incapable  of  broad  views,  and 
for  the  most  part  are  diseased.  The  men  of  1848,  on  the  other  hand, 
started  from  a  just  feeling  of  the  social  office  of  philosophy ;  unfor- 
tunately, they  were  not  able  to  reconstruct  it,  or  to  base  the  reli- 
gious sentiment,  which  they  imperfectly  understood,  on  a  sufficient 
knowledge  of  the  human  soul. 

Now,  it  is  precisely  with  the  study  of  the  soul  that  M.  Carus 
begins,  whilst  it  is  only  upon  psychology,  as  we  have  just  seen,  that 
M.  Fouill^e  bases  his  efforts.  They  both  meet  in  the  affirmation  of 
consciousness  as  a  first  reality.  We  should  say,  accurately,  with 
M.  Carus,  the  state  of  consciousness,  the  feeling  of  living  substance. 
Whatsoever  we  do,  we  always  grasp  things  under  this  point  of  view, 
and  this  is  why  the  monism  based  on  psychology,  on  the  knowl- 
edge of  the  relations  of  our  thought  with  the  external  world,  with 
that  of  which  we  have  images,  will  ultimately  be  a  unitary  concep- 
tion of  the  world,  while  the  old  monistic  systems,  so  called,  (a  dis- 
tinction, which  M.  Carus  well  makes,)  are  in  fact  only  single-concept 
philosophies.  The  philosophies  of  times  gone  by  bent  all  their 
efforts  on  finding  some  single  fact  of  explanation, — movement,  mat- 
ter, intelligence,  etc., — and  they  give  us  thus  only  logical  metaphys- 
ics. On  the  other  hand  it  is  necessary  that  a  real  general  explana- 
tion should  throw  no  shadow  on  any  of  the  primordial  facts  ;  it 
should  never  consist  of  an  arbitrary  reduction  of  the  elements  of  the 

world  to  any  individual  one  of  these  elements. 

* 
*  * 

And  now,  while  I  am  on  this  subject  of  depicting  the  public 
mind  of  France,  I  must  mention  an  amiable  little  book  which  sends 
forth  a  clear  angelus-note  into  the  twilight  of  our  beliefs.  This  little 
book  bears  the  simple  title  Philosophic  de poche  (Pocket  Philosophy).* 
Its  author  is  M.  JEAN  MAC£,  the  founder  of  the  "  Ligue  de  1'enseigne- 
ment "  which  is  preparing  the  way  for  a  reformation  of  our  schools, 

*  Published  by  Hetzel.     The  other  works  are  published  by  Felix  Alcan. 


LITERARY  CORRESPONDENCE.  445 

at  present  a  senator,  but  by  taste  still  an  educator,*  one  of  those  rare 
men  who  unite  with  intellectual  acuteness  common-sense  and  kindli- 
ness, and  who  take  their  years  without  growing  old.  M.  Mace"  is  not 
the  champion  of  dangerous  or  fragile  novelties.  He  declares  himself 
religious,  without  definition.  He  finds  God  in  the  order  of  the  world, 
and  morality  in  the  consciousness  which  we  have  of  the  order  of  the 
world.  He  does  not  make  fine  distinctions,  and  when  he  strolls  into 
the  domain  of  science,  does  so,  as  it  were,  purely  for  recreation.  Man, 
he  tells  us  in  his  summing  up,  should  seek  his  happiness  in  the  sphere 
in  which  his  grandeur  lies,  ' '  in  the  sentiment  of  his  dignity,  in  the  love 
of  the  true  which  puts  him  at  peace  with  his  reason,  and  in  the  love  of 
the  good  which  puts  him  at  peace  with  his  conscience."  His  God 
is  "that  for  which  mothers  have  found  the  name,  the  naive  personi- 
fication of  the  idea  of  the  good,  that  sweet  and  simple  rule  of  life 
which  we  obey  with  confidence,  which  dispenses  with  all  theology." 
And  he  adds  :  "  The  good  God  of  the  little  children  is  still  the  most 
philosophical  of  all,  the  only  one  which  is  not  an  x.  He  goes  straight 
to  the  heart  without  troubling  the  mind,  in  Him  is  our  refuge.  If 
you  are  not  as  one  of  these  little  children,  says  the  Gospel,  you  shall 
not  enter  into  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven." 

Surely  there  is  nothing  here  which  will  cause  violent  revolutions 
in  the  world,  and  M.  Mace"  gently  gives  us  perfect  freedom  without 
demolishing  any  traditional  barriers.  But  these  simple  lessons, 
these  prescriptions  of  a  salutary  regime,  are  worth  much  more  to  us 
in  preparing  the  way  for  the  future  than  all  the  negative  decrees  of 

vain  ignorance. 

* 
*  * 

I  experience  a  feeling  which  amounts  almost  to  painfulness 
when  I  pass  from  the  book  of  M.  Mac6  to  that  of  M.  MAURICE  BLON- 
DEL,  U  action,  Essai  cfune  critique  de  la  vie  et  d'une  science  de  la  pra- 
tique. Far  from  being  so  facile  and  fluent,  it  is,  on  the  contrary, 
difficult,  and  smacks  of  the  school.  And  all  the  more  pity  it  is,  as 
its  aim  is  high,  and  M.  Bondel  is  one  of  those  who  could  have  got 


*  I  would  recommend  to  educators  his   Contes  du  Petit-Chateau,  real  master- 
pieces, and  in  a  literary  point  of  view  superior  to  most  romances. 


446  THE  MONIST. 

much  useful  instruction  from  the  Congress  of  Religions — that  signifi- 
cant feature  of  your  World's  Fair. 

His  thesis  consists  in  justifying  the  necessity  of  action  and  in 
showing  that  this  conforms  to  the  deepest  aspiration  of  man.  "  Not 
being  able  hitherto,"  he  writes,  "to  unite  action  perfectly  with 
thought,  nor  conscience  with  science,  we  have  all,  both  the  boor  and 
the  philosopher,  been  obliged  to  remain  like  infants,  naively  docile, 
in  the  empiricism  of  duty."  Suppose  we  follow  this  road  ;  we  shall 
soon  see  whether  we  shall  have  to  regret  it.  But  let  us  also  make 
ourselves,  by^strict  method,  participants  of  the  contrary  course.  For 
the  matter  of  great  importance  to  us  is  to  know  "whether  beyond 
the  obscurities  through  which  we  must  march  ....  whether,  amidst 
all  the  aberrations  of  the  mind  and  of  the  heart,  there  exist,  despite 
all,  the  germs  of  a  science  and  the  principles  of  a  profound  revela- 
tion such  that  nothing  shall  appear  arbitrary  or  unexplained  in  the 
destinies  of  each."  It  is  necessary  for  us  to  bring  face  to  face  with 
errors,  negations,  and  weaknesses  of  all  sorts,  the  latent  truth  on 
which  souls  live  and  of  which,  perhaps,  they  die,  for  all  eternity." 
That  latent  verity  is  the  supposition  of  the  supernatural,  the  uncon- 
querable desire  for  a  "saviour/'  the  profound  feeling  of  co-operating 
with  God.  And  in  the  thought  of  M.  Blondel  the  supernatural  is 
given  by  Christian  "revelation."  I  am  very  careful  when  skirting 
the  precipices  of  dialectics.  But  the  reader  may  judge  for  himself. 
I  shall  leave  him  in  the  vestibule  of  this  work.  Criticism  can  get 

no  hold  of  matters  of  faith. 

* 

*  * 

I  find  myself  restricted  to  a  mere  mention  of  the  rather  large  vol- 
ume of  M.  VICTOR  DELBOS,  Le  probleme  moral  dans  la  philosophic  de 
Spinoza  et  dans  rhistoire  du  Spinozisme,  a  conscientious  study,  but 
somewhat  heavy  ;  the  excellent  book  of  M.  JULES  PAYOT,  L1  education 
de  la  volonte  ;  and  Les  lois  sociologiques,  by  M.  GUILLAUME  DE  GREEF, 
a  Belgian  author,  known  for  several  other  works  ;  Le  droit  des  femmes 
dans  le  mariage,  etudes  critiques  de  legislation  comparee,  by  M.  Louis 
BRIDEL  of  Geneva,  where  the  question  of  the  rights  of  women  is 
seriously  discussed. 

I  must  also  refer,  with  much  regret  at  not  being  able  to  speak 


LITERARY  CORRESPONDENCE.  447 

at  length  of  it,  to  the  French  translation  of  a  work  of  M.  TH.  ZIEGLER 
which  has  already  reached  its  fourth  edition  in  Germany,  entitled 
La  question  sociale  est  une  question  morale.  This  book  is  a  remarkable 
one,  and  we  read  here  with  interest  of  what  concerns  the  difficult 
problems  of  socialism,  of  the  perfecting  of  the  social  condition  of 
State  and  Church,  of  the  family,  of  woman,  and  so  forth.  M.  Ziegler 
discovers  in  this  book  a  clear  mind  and  one  which  is  neither  retro- 
gressive nor  Utopian. 

LUCIEN  ARREAT. 
PARIS. 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS. 

LOGIC  AS  RELATION-LORE. 

REJOINDER  TO  M.   MOURET  BY  MR.   RUSSELL. 

The  strong  and  tolerant  reply  of  M.  Mouret  to  my  criticisms  demands  from  me 
my  best  consideration,  not  only  on  account  of  the  ability  and  courtesy  he  has  shown 
but  also  on  account  of  the  very  important  matters  that  are  thus  agitated. 

I  must  trespass  upon  his  patience  still  further,  for  so  far  am  I  from  being  more 
at  one  with  him  than  before,  that  I  fear  that  that  community  of  view  which  he  be- 
lieved to  exist  between  us,  and  which  I  certainly  took  to  be  the  case,  is  in  fact  much 
less  than  either  of  us  have  been  anticipating. 

I.      THE  NATURE  OF  MATHEMATICS. 

M.  Mouret,  if  I  judge  him  aright,  is  fully  persuaded  in  his  own  mind  that  the 
mathematicians  are  lacking  in  philosophical  competency,  and  are  doing  little  if  any- 
thing towards  the  right  settlement  of  the  fundamental  principles  and  data  of  even 
their  own  branch  of  science.  I,  on  the  contrary,  see  in  the  works  of  the  mathema- 
ticians, that  which  leads  me  to  expect  from  them,  or  at  least  to  expect  in  consequence 
of  what  they  have  accomplished  and  are  going  on  to  accomplish,  a  new  and  most 
illustrious  phase  in  the  history  of  philosophy. 

M.  Mouret  tells  us  explicitly,  that  he  has  occupied  himself  in  analysing  the 
fundamental  notions  of  mathematics,  in  part,  by  way  of  protest  against  certain  doc- 
trines that  have  the  countenance  of  at  least  many  of  the  French  mathematicians. 
If  I  may  judge  from  what  I  confess  to  be  an  altogether  inadequate  acquaintance 
with  the  writings  to  which  M.  Mouret  refers,  I  should  be  inclined  to  say  that  he  fails 
to  do  the  men  in  question  the  complete  justice  that  the  dignity  and  worth  of  their 
work  merits.  They  are,  however,  men  of  distinguished  ability,  and  any  attempt  by 
me  on  their  behalf  would  be  both  officious  and  presumptuous. 

I  feel  moved,  nevertheless,  to  offer  a  few  words  in  regard  to  the  question  as  to 
the  meaning  and  scope  of  mathematics.  The  time  is  long  past  when  mathematics 
can  with  any  propriety  be  defined  as  the  science  of  quantity.  Such  is  the  old 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  449 

stock  definition  and  no  doubt  the  impression  is  very  generally  prevalent  tha  math- 
ematics is  naturally  confined  within  the  range  where  quantity  is  a  prominent  fea- 
ture of  the  things  to  be  dealt  with.  But  if  nothing  else  than  projective  geometry 
and  the  theories  of  substitutions  and  of  groups  were  extant,  there  would  be  enough 
to  show  that  no  pent-up  region  like  the  region  of  quantity  can  confine  the  powers  of 
mathematics.  When,  however,  we  take  notice  of  algebras  like  "  Peirce's  Linear 
Associative  Algebra,"  the  various  logical  algebras,  and  other  very  possible  algebras 
that  these  suggest,  and  especially  when  we  consult  the  splendid  "Theory  of  Math- 
ematical Form  "  of  Mr.  A.  B.  Kempe  we  begin  to  suspect  what  I  dare  say  is  really 
the  truth  that  mathematics  is  the  imperial  science,  whose  prime  data  and  original 
principles  must  govern  the  entire  range  of  intellectual  exercise. 

What  then  is  mathematics  ?  How  is  it  to  be  defined  ?  No  competent  answer 
can  be  given  to  these  questions  until  we  recognise  that  the  soul  of  mathematics 
dwells  not  so  much  in  the  terms  or  things  with  which  it  deals,  or  even  in  the  static 
relations,  that  may  obtain  in  respect  thereto  as  in  the  operations  by  which  these  terms 
or  things  may  be  put  together  or  separated  and  by  which  the  same  and  said  static 
relations  may  be  altered.  Pure  mathematics  does  not  even  require  that  all  its  data 
and  results  shall  be  conceivable,  that  is,  that  they  shall  be  of  such  a  nature  as  to 
excite  in  us  those  mental  phenomena  that  we  usually  mean  when  we  speak  of  sensa- 
tions, notions,  concepts,  or  perceptions.  The  square  root  of  negative  unity,  and  in- 
finity, the  curved,  and  four  or  more  dimensioned  spaces,  are  mathematical  things  that 
we  ought  not  to  expect  to  render  (readily  at  least)  into  terms  of  ordinary  mentality. 
Much  familiarity  with  them  may  in  time  evoke  corresponding  mental  sensations, 
perceptions,  etc.,  but  until  these  naturally  emerge  so  as  to  accredit  themselves  ac- 
cording to  their  proper  significance,  we  ought  to  regard  these  supra-conceptual 
things  as  obtaining  in  notation  merely.  Indeed  it  may  be  more  than  a  fanciful 
manner  of  speech  to  say  that  in  mathematical  notation  there  is  being  evolved  a  new 
supra-intellectual  faculty  for  man. 

Mathematics  is  not,  however,  by  any  means  lawless,  nor  is  it  metaphysical  in 
any  bad  sense  of  that  term.  Variable,  indeterminate,  and  incommensurable  are  in- 
deed many  of  its  things  and  functions  respectively,  but  vague  or  inexact  not  at  all. 
Kven  the  supra-conceptual  things  above  mentioned  are  as  rigidly  ruled  by  the  math- 
ematical constitutions  as  are  all  the  rest.  Nor  are  the  same  in  any  proper  sense 
abstractions  or  compounded  of  abstractions.  They  are  the  suggestions  and  the  re- 
sults that  have  ensued  in  consequence  of  the  nature  of  the  mathematical  operations. 
These  have  pleaded  for  what  was  needed  in  order  to  enable  mathematics  to  fill  itself 
out  so  as  to  occupy  its  own  proper  sphere,  and  hence  the  supra-conceptuals  have 
been  recognised  and  installed. 

In  this  filling-out  of  the  mathematical  sphere  as  well  as  everywhere  else  in 
mathematics  one  supreme  rule  obtains,  viz.,  the  rule  of  consistency.  No  contradic- 
tions must  be  involved,  but  however  the  data  and  functions  of  mathematics  are 
interworked,  all  must  harmoniously  co-operate  and  issue.  In  point  of  fact  they  not 


450  THE  MONIST. 

merely  do  this  but  they  relate  and  operate  together  so  as  to  form  one  harmonious 
and  mutually  illuminating  whole,  in  sum  and  by  every  detail.  It  is  this  that  makes 
mathematics  the  beau  ideal  and  great  exemplar  for  all  science  and  all  philosophy. 

Mathematics  is  based  upon  one  original  tenet,  theorem,  faith,  or  supposition, 
viz.,  that  this  universe  of  matter,  energy,  and  mind  is  throughout  consistent  and 
reasonable  or  rather  consistent  (which  is  reasonable)  or  reasonable  (which  is  con- 
sistent). 

Another  article  of  the  mathematical  creed,  and  one  scarcely  secondary,  is  this, 
There  is  one  absolutely  unique  system  of  principles  consisting  of  divers  operations, 
relations,  notions,  and  recognitions,  which  system  is  necessary  and  sufficient  for  the 
general  organisation  and  explanation  of  the  consistent  and  reasonable  All:  besides 
which  system,  and  besides  each  element  and  detail  of  which  system,  there  is  naught 
else  either  sufficient  or  necessary  for  such  organisation  or  explanation ;  and  lacking 
which  system  or  lacking  in  certain  elements  or  details  of  which  system,  or  lacking 
in  some  element  or  detail  of  which  system,  such  organisation  and  explanation  must 
proportionately  fail.  For  brevity  I  will  call  this  system  of  principles  the  organonic 
system,  and  the  principles  thereof  the  organonic  principles. 

Now  mathematics  is  that  model  science  or  that  commonwealth  of  model  sci- 
ences, that  observes,  certifies,  and  applies  the  organonic  principles,  for  the  improve- 
ment of  knowledge  and  belief. 

While  the  question  of  the  genesis  of  our  knowledge  of  the  organonic  principles 
has  a  decided  interest  of  its  own  it  has  little  if  any  relation  to  their  justification. 
Not  how  we  came  by  them  but  what  they  really  are,  is  the  important  question.  Be- 
side the  questions  as  to  what  numerical  unity  really  is,  or  as  to  w/iat  a  straight  line 
is,  all  questions  as  to  how  we  acquired  the  notions  of  these  prime  data  respectively 
fall  into  insignificance.  We  should  not  discard  them  even  though  it  should  turn 
out  that  we  acquired  them  by  questionable  means.  Our  title  to  them  is  our  percep- 
tion that  they  naturally  belong  to  us.  Just  such,  too,  is  our  title  to  the  supra-con- 
ceptual recognitions.  The  imaginary  unit  is  known  to  belong  to  us  not  alone  by 
right  of  adoption,  but  principally  because  it  exactly  fits  and  fills  out  the  numeric 
sphere,  the  other  part  of  which  has  long  been  ours.  While  a  knowledge  of  the 
genesis  of  the  organonic  principles  may  yield  divers  suggestions  as  to  the  nature 
thereof,  it  is  nevertheless  a  knowledge  of  that  nature  that  we  principally  need,  and 
this  is  mainly  a  matter  of  observation  and  criticism. 

The  recognition  and  adoption  by  mathematics  of  the  supra-conceptual  entities 
and  the  coincident,  necessarily  implicit  transition  of  the  mathematical  sovereignty 
from  the  passive  things  with  which  it  deals  to  its  operations,  marks,  in  my  judgment, 
an  absolutely  new  era  in  mathematics,  and  through  mathematics  an  absolutely  new 
era  in  science  and  philosophy.  It  stands  as  a  kind  of  scientific  and  philosophical 
Peak  of  Darien  from  which  we  look  out  on  a  new  ocean  for  science  and  philosophy, 
an  ocean  palpable  and  differing  in  no  essential  respect  from  the  regions  with  which 
we  are  familiar,  but  swelling  with  surges  that  signify  a  vastness  until  now  undreamed 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  451 

of,  and  yet  an  ocean  for  the  exploration  of  which  we  are,  at  least  in  embryo,  already 
furnished. 

Here  several  reflexions  push  forward.  The  first  is  the  sovereignty  and  exigency 
of  the  demand  for  consistency,  completeness,  unity.  Monism  is  inevitable  because 
nothing  less  is  competent  to  effect  any  settlement  that  will  actually  settle.  Hitherto 
it  has  been  taken  as  a  prime  supposition,  and  one  taken  to  be  so  obvious  and  insupera- 
able  that  it  has  never  even  occurred  to  any  one  to  challenge  the  same,  that  the 
manifold  of  conceivable  things  exhausted  the  data  of  science  and  philosophy,  and 
would,  could  only  its  hidden  organic  scheme  be  once  discovered,  stand  revealed  as 
the  all  in  all.  In  demand,  however,  for  a  unity,  a  consistency,  a  wholeness,  that 
could  not,  nor  would,  otherwise  emerge,  and  being  moreover,  as  if  in  duty  bound, 
in  obedience  to  principles  long  approved  as  valid  and  in  the  highest  degree  fruitful, 
to  appropriate,  in  some  way,  in  its  scheme  certain  somewhats  that  could  not  be  ban- 
ished, but  were  ever  thrusting  themselves  forward  in  it's  very  face  and  eyes,  math- 
ematics at  last  broke  over  the  charmed  circle  of  conceivable  things,  recognised  and 
adopted  as  its  own  property  the  so-called  imaginary  data,  and  instead  of  finding 
itself  put  to  absurdity  and  confusion,  found  itself,  on  the  contrary,  unshackled  merely 
within  a  renewed,  but  immensely  expanded,  world  of  rigidly  consistent  verities,  that 
contains  the  old  world  as  a  fragment. 

This  epoch  in  the  history  of  mathematics,  when  its  nature  is  duly  appreciated, 
gives  a  most  momentous  lesson  to  science  and  philosophy.  In  philosophy  especially 
we  can  no  longer  account  the  manifold  of  conceivable  things  as  the  all  in  all,  and 
confine  the  exercise  of  our  philosophical  propensities  within  its  range.  We  can  no 
longer  entertain  any  rational  expectation  of  finding  therein  that  consistency,  com- 
pleteness, and  unity  of  which  we  are  in  search.  We  can  now  no  more  do  this  than 
could  the  old  world,  after  the  successful  voyages  of  Columbus  and  his  followers, 
account  the  mere  eastern  continent  to  be  the  entire  earth,  and  expect  to  gain  a  full 
and  competent  knowledge  of  the  earth  by  studying  the  geography  of  that  continent 
only. 

The  second  reflexion  that  pushes  forward  is  that  the  true  justifications  of  any 
sort  of  dialectic  are  to  be  found  not  so  much  as  we  have  been  wont  to  think,  in  the 
conceivability  of  things  or  even  in  the  agreement  of  thought  with  things,  unless  that 
criterion  is  better  understood  and  applied  than  it  usually  is.  True  thought  does  and 
must  agree  with  things  because  true  thought  is  only  the  expression,  total  or  par- 
tial, of  the  organonic  principles  which  pervade  thought  and  things  alike.  Things, 
•when  truly  and  adequately  interpreted,  exemplify  the  organonic  principles  and  suggest 
them  to  thought.  But  things  may  be  badly  or  inadequately  interpreted,  and  yet, 
owing  to  their  fragmentary  nature,  there  may  be  a  thought,  or  system  of  thought, 
partial  or  untrue,  that  will  accord  with  such  interpretation.  In  short,  while  incon- 
ceivability may  possibly  be  an  argument  against  a  certain  thought  or  quasi-thought, 
and  while  the  agreement  of  any  assigned  thought  with  things  is  certainly  an  argu- 
ment in  favor  of  the  truth  of  that  thought,  this  inconceivability  and  this  agreement 


452  THE  MONIST. 

are  both  of  them  uncertain  in  their  significance.  There  is  nowhere  any  other  test 
of  universal  application  and  discriminating  authority  but  that  of  general  mutual  con- 

* 

sistency.  This  is  at  once  necessary  and  sufficient  to  accredit  and  justify  any  thought, 
however  inconceivable  it  may  be.  If  it  is  said  that  a  thought  may,  at  some  one  time 
fully  satisfy  this  criterion  so  far  as  can  be  ascertained,  and  yet,  upon  better  infor- 
mation, fail  therein,  I  reply,  verily  such  may  be  the  case,  but  in  such  a  case,  how- 
ever much  that  thought  may  swerve  from  the  truth,  it  will  nevertheless  mark  out 
and  revolve  around  a  verity  whose  subsequent  more  exact  delimitation  it  is  that  re- 
veals the  untrue  aspect.  The  criterion  laid  down  by  Mr.  Spencer,  the  inconceiva- 
bility of  the  contrary,  is  only  one  way  of  stating  the  criterion  of  general  mutual  con- 
sistency, and  is  itself  subject  to  the  same  qualification  that  has  just  been  stated.  The 
defect  of  Mr.  Spencer's  formula  dwells  in  this,  that  in  all  that  class  of  cases,  by  no 
means  rare,  in  which  we  can  conceive  a  contrary,  we  are  left  without  a  criterion, 
unless  we  say  that  those  ideas  are  untrue  whose  contraries  are  conceivable,  a  con- 
clusion that  is  obviously  unjustified. 

M.  Mouret  says  that  the  mathematicians  with  whom  he  disagrees  and  whose 
doctrines  served  in  part  as  the  exciting  cause  of  his  essays,  ' '  consider  mathematics 
as  the  science  of  combinations  having  for  points  of  departure  certain  conventions 
made  with  numbers  independent  of  reality  in  general  and  of  the  physical  magni- 
tudes in  particular."  If  they  really  do  this,  they  are  certainly  very  loose  in  their 
habits  of  thought.  But  mathematicians  are  usually  not  thus  given  to  looseness  of 
thinking,  however  much  they  may  scatter  in  their  forms  of  expression.  In  such 
recondite  regions  of  discourse  as  are  those  in  view,  there  is  great  need  of  taking  one 
not  exactly  and  literally  as  he  says,  but  according  to  his  true  intent  and  meaning, 
as  gathered  from  his  entire  context.  Says  Challis  : 

"  In  a  passage  full  of  acuteness  and  good  sense,  Berkeley  [ '  Theory  of  Vision, ' 
§  cxx]  remarks  how  ill  common  language  is  adapted  to  be  the  vehicle  of  uncommon 
thought,  and  demands  most  reasonably  that  the  reader  shall  strive  to  follow  the 
thread  of  his  ideas,  rather  than  carp  at  his  language  and  catch  at  hitches  which  the 
circumstances  make  inevitable." 

I  have  before  me  an  article  by  that  illustrious  French  mathematician,  M.  Poin- 
care,  whom,  I  take  it,  is  a  typical  representative  of  the  school  of  mathematicians 
that  M.  Mouret  finds  so  poor  in  philosophy.  In  this  article,  M.  Poincare  discourses 
of  the  Non-Euclidean  Geometry  and  of  axioms,  and  he  does  indeed  speak  of  the 
axioms  of  geometry  as  conventions,  or  as  definitions  in  disguise. 

The  truth  is,  as  it  appears  to  me,  somewhat  like  this  :  There  are  real  things 
which  may  be  corporeal  things,  or  relations,  or  operations  ;  and  there  are  meanings, 
or  notions,  or  ideas  ;  a  part  of  which,  at  least,  may  represent  real  things,  and  are 
indeed  themselves  in  a  certain  sense  real ;  and  there  are  terms  which  are  intended 
to  represent,  firstly  meanings  and  then,  in  some  cases,  through  meanings,  various  real 
things  that  are  not  in  themselves  meanings  merely. 

Now,  besides  the  various  infirmities  of  terms  in  themselves,  they  may  be  put 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  453 

together  in  any  way  that  the  mere  rules  of  language  permit,  and  when  they  are  so 
put  together  as  to  form  an  assertion,  there  are  in  any  case,  two  questions  that  may 
always  arise ;  first,  Is  there  any  meaning  expressed  ?  and  then,  Is  this  meaning,  if 
any,  true  or  otherwise  ?  In  case  any  assertion  is  a  definition  or  an  attempted  defini- 
tion, it  may  express,  or  attempt  to  express,  a  status  or  an  operation,  or  it  may  sup- 
pose or  quasi-suppose  such  a  status  or  operation.  In  such  a  case  the  further  very 
important  question  may  arise.  Is  this  status  or  this  operation  one  that  is  possible 
or  compassablel  If  not,  then  the  assertion,  supposition,  or  quasi-supposition  has 
really  no  proper  meaning,  although  unfortunately  in  too  many  cases  a  lack  of  infor- 
mation or  a  vague  unmathematical  habit  of  mind  lures  many  into  the  belief  that  a 
meaning  is  contained  therein. 

But  definitions  depend  upon  terms,  and  by  no  device  of  man  can  they  free 
meaning  from  the  trammels  and  limitations  thus  entailed,  so  long  as  we  insist  on 
confining  ourselves  to  the  express  import  of  those  terms.  So  insisting,  try  how  we 
may,  we  must  always  at  last  resolve  on  some  term  or  terms  that  shall  be  taken  as 
known  without  more  ado.  Are  we,  then,  tied  down  to  the  express  import  of  terms  ? 
By  no  means,  else  poet  and  seer  must  always  have  gone  to  their  graves  undelivered 
of  their  burdens  so  precious  to  man  in  all  generations.  Signs  and  sign-systems  of 
all  sorts  have,  besides  their  express  import,  a  suggestive  power  and  function,  and  no 
signs  or  sign-systems  have,  for  this  behalf,  so  efficient  a  power  and  function,  as  have 
terms  and  language.  How  often  even  in  the  daily  intercourse  of  man  does  he  impart 
his  meaning  surely  and  exactly,  nay,  even  more  efficiently,  by  language  that  by  its 
express  import  does  not  mean  as  he  means,  but  which  frequently,  in  its  literal  im- 
port, expresses  the  precise  opposite  of  his  real  meaning.  So  in  science,  even  in 
mathematics.  There  was  never  so  bald  a  paradox,  according  to  the  express  import 
of  the  terms  used,  as  to  say,  "  a  point  is  a  place  without  any  size  whatever,"  yet  it 
tells  the  true  intent  and  meaning  without  any  reasonable  cause  for  exception.  It  is 
meanings,  then,  that  we  are  after,  and  terms  and  language  are  only  so  many  con- 
venient means  towards  that  end.  So  far  as  the  axioms  and  the  mathematical  points 
of  departure  relate  to  terms  and  language,  they  are  and  must  be  conventional. 

Now,  meanings  are  primarily  matters  of  mental  status,  and,  if  as  to  any  por- 
tions of  discourse  those  who  discourse  together  have  the  same  meanings  in  the 
same  connexions,  or  experience  mental  states  that  obtain  the  same  in  each,  in  a 
one-to-one  correspondence  as  to  the  articulated  parts,  and  in  a  general  correspon- 
dence, as  to  the  wholes,  then  to  cavil  at  calling  this  a  matter  of  convention,  seems  to 
me  rather  an  exercise  of  logomachy  than  otherwise. 

The  truth  really  is  that  many  of  those  propositions  that  are  called  axioms  and 
many  of  the  mathematical  points  of  departure,  are  not  axiomatical  at  all.  Some  of 
them  admit  of  proof  when  once  the  real  axioms  are  ascertained  and  once  the  requi- 
site definitions  are  duly  certified.  Taking  equality  as  the  conjunction  of  "  not  more 
than"  and  "not  less  than,"  the  so-called  axiom  :  "Things  that  are  equal  to  the 
same  thing  are  equal  to  one  another,"  may  be  proved  thus. 


454  THE  MONIST. 

Put  A  and  B  both  equal  to  C.  Then  A  and  B  are  also  equal.  For  A  is  "  not 
more  than"  C,  and  hence  C  is  "not  less  than"  A.  A  is  also  "not  less  than"  C, 
and  hence  C  is  "  not  more  than  "  A.  By  precisely  parallel  reasoning,  C  may  be 
proved  to  be  both  "  no't  more  than  "  and  "  not  less  than"  B.  Then  A  is  "  not  more 
than"  C,  which  is  "not  more  than  "B  ;  hence  A  is  "not  more  than"  B.  So,  too, 
A  is  "not  less  than"  C,  which  is  "not  less  than  "  B,  and  hence,  again,  A  is  "not 
less  than  "  B.  A  is  thus  shown  to  be  at  once  "not  more  than  "  and  "not  less  than  " 
B.  But  to  be  these  is  to  be  equal  to  B.  Q.  E.  D. 

There  are  other  so-called  axioms  that  are,  as  M.  Poincare  says,  merely  defini- 
tions in  disguise.  Such  is  this  one,  "  The  whole  is  more  than  any  part."  Another 
one  that  may  easily  be  taken  to  be  very  like  the  last  one  but  which  in  reality  is  quite 
different,  is  this,  "  The  whole  is  equal  to  the  sum  of  all  its  parts."  This  is  a  propo- 
sition admitting  of  a  proof  that  is  somewhat  lengthy,  and  that  depends  upon  the 
definition  of  "equality,"  the  definitions  of  "whole"  and  "part"  and  the  definition 
of  "sum,"  which  definition  depends  itself  upon  the  prior  definition  of  the  operation 
of  addition,  the  definition  of  which  operation  depends  again  upon  the  knowledge 
derived  from  the  actual  performance  of  a  problem  ;  that  is,  from  experience. 

As  above  stated  the  possibility  or  compassability  of  certain  states  or  operations 
may  be  brought  into  question.  In  many  cases  this  can  be  determined  affirmatively 
by  actually  effecting  the  state  or  operation  in  question.  Then  we  have  a  problem 
solved  and  the  corresponding  knowledge  gained  by  observation  or  experiment  or 
whatever  it  may  be  called.  At  any  rate  by  experience. 

In  other  cases  divers  conditions  and  circumstances  may  prevent  us  from  actu- 
ally effecting  the  state  or  operation  in  question.  We  cannot  go  to  infinity  to  try  the 
experiment  and  see  whether  we  can  draw  a  line  that  will  at  once  meet  another  line 
there  and  also  at  some  finite  point.  In  another  class  of  cases  we  have  no  means  of 
certifying  what  is  the  real  state  of  the  case.  We  cannot  travel  all  over  space  so 
as  to  test  it,  and  see  if  it  is  everywhere  all  alike.  In  still  another  class  of  cases  we 
have  no  means  of  certifying  what  may  be  the  real  effect  of  certain  of  our  opera- 
tions. We  cannot  tell  for  certain  whether  the  mere  moving  of  a  body  around  in 
space  does  or  does  not  alter  it  in  size  or  in  shape.  In  all  these  cases  of  uncertainty 
our  only  resource  is  to  resolve  on  what  we  will  take  to  be  true,  and  for  the  sake  of 
the  great  convenience  this  course  affords,  abide  by  our  resolutions  ;  at  least  so  long 
as  they  entail  no  inconsistency,  or  contradiction.  In  order,  however,  for  this  course 
to  prove  convenient  we  must  agree  together  expressly  or  tacitly  as  to  the  meanings 
the  propositions  shall  bear  that  formulate  our  resolutions.  Such  propositions  are 
the  only  real  axioms.  All  others  rest  at  last  upon  experience  or  definitions. 

If  any  one  says  that  such  conventions  as  these  are  ' '  independent  of  reality  in 
general,"  or,  if  they  relate  to  the  physical  magnitudes,  that  they  are  independent 
thereof,  then  if  by  "independent"  is  meant  independence  in  any  other  sense  than 
that  that  reality  or  that  the  physical  magnitudes,  are  silent  in  respect  to  the  validity 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  455 

of  such  conventions,  such  persons  are  surely,  unqualifiedly;  and  totally  mistaken  and 
deserve  even  more  than  the  reproaches  that  M.  Mouret  has  heaped  upon  them. 

II.      THE  NATURE  OF  RELATIONS. 

After  all  this  long  dissertation  M.  Mouret  will  surely  have  excuse  to  ask  how 
the  same  is  any  rejoinder  to  his  reply.  I  must  maintain,  however,  that  it  is  a  re- 
joinder to  the  most  serious  parts  of  his  reply,  though  made  by  general  rather  than 
by  particular  remarks. 

I  cannot  admit  that  I  failed  to  understand  him  in  the  main.  The  root  of  our 
disagreement  lies  in  our  different  views  of  the  nature  of  relations.  As  long  as  this 
difference  remains  I  do  not  see  how  we  can  arrive  at  any  community  of  view  that 
would  be  worth  any  pains  to  effect.  I  said  in  my  paper  : 

1 '  Now  besides  the  error  of  confounding  relations  with  relationship  it  is  a  very 
common  fault  to  think  and  speak  of  relations  as  being  between  two  or  more  terms. 
This  imports  into  thought  the  thoroughly  misleading  idea  of  an  intervening  inde- 
pendent existence  for  relations.  Relations  are  attributive  predicates  of  terms,  and 
each  one  of  them  pertains  strictly  to  its  proper  term  or  combination  of  terms,  in  the 
same  sense  for  this  turn  (pro  hac  vice}  that  qualities  are  held  to  pertain  to  their  so- 
called  substances,"  etc. 

This  conception  of  relations  together  with  my  protest  against  the  common  view 
is  almost  ignored  by  M.  Mouret.  I  grant  that  he  conforms  himself  to  the  ordinary 
language  as  well  as  to  that  use  of  the  same  that  is  current  in  the  so-called  philoso- 
phy ;  but  as  a  student  for  a  scientific  logic,  it  was  on  the  very  account  like  to  that, 
that  I  had  occasion  to  make  the  caution  above  quoted,  and  I  am  not  a  little  non- 
plussed to  find  M.  Mouret  treating  the  matter  in  the  way  he  does.  If  I  were  the 
first  to  discern  and  employ  this  notion  of  a  relation,  I  should,  in  face  of  the  conduct 
of  M.  Mouret,  feel  great  doubt  lest  I  had  gone  wrong.  But  since  this  way  of  con- 
ceiving relations  appears  to  me  entirely  plain  as  well  as  absolutely  requisite  to  a 
scientific  treatment  thereof,  and  since,  moreover,  in  this  I  only  follow  the  example 
of  DeMorgan  and  Peirce,  and  in  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  with  the  single  exception  of 
M.  Mouret,  all  the  rest  of  those  who  in  modern  times  have  given  any  considerable 
attention  to  the  subject  of  relations,  I  naturally  feel  entirely  sure  of  my  ground. 

This  matter  is  so  fundamental  that  it  calls  for  defence.  Relations,  of  course, 
may  like  other  things  be  of  divers  sorts ;  but  in  so  far  as  they  are  relations  merely, 
they  must  be  essentially  alike.  Hence  the  nature  and  characteristics  that  pertain 
to  relations  in  their  most  naked  estate  must  continue  to  pertain  thereto  in  their 
every  form. 

I  have  to  say  in  this  connexion  that  my  interest  in  the  views  of  M.  Mouret  was 
mainly  enlisted  by  his  conception  of  logic.  I  either  found  in  or  read  into  his  lan- 
guage a  statement  of  certain  somewhat  inchoate  ideas  about  fundamentals  that  had 
for  a  long  time  been  ever  and  anon  flitting  athwart  my  mental  horizon. 

The  title  "logic"  as  it  is  usually  employed  is  made  to  comprise  several  very  sep- 


456  THE   MONIST. 

arable  fields  of  discourse.  If  such  a  separation  were  made  and  I  had  the  choice  on 
that  behalf,  I  should,  for  reasons  not  relevant  here,  incline  to  give  the  old  title 
"logic"  to  that  division  that  deals  with  the  phenomena  of  erroneous  thinking  and  its 
correction,  that  is,  to  the  doctrine  of  fallacies.  But  in  that  case  logic  could  have  no 
claim  to  the  dignity  of  being  the  sdentia  scientarum.  Before  reasoning,  good  or  bad, 
can  have  any  occasion  to  be,  the  terms  and  relations  upon  which  it  operates  must 
already  obtain,  and  the  operations  that  marshal  the  same  into  various  arrays  and  that 
modify  those  terms,  relations,  and  arrays  in  various  ways  must  become  extant.  Hence 
the  need  of  an  "  abstract  and  objective  science  that  has  for  its  domain  the  sum  total  of 
the  exterior  objects  of  knowledge  considered  independent  of  their  particular  nature." 
I  took  M.  Mouret  to  mean  by  "exterior  objects"  not  merely  corporeal  objects,  but 
everything  that  bears  the  insignia  of  reality,  every  fact,  no  matter  what  its  nature 
maybe.  These,  when  "considered  independent  of  their  particular  nature,"  are 
stripped  of  every  vestige  of  determination  and  stand  nakedly  as  so  many  mere  some- 
things all  exactly  alike,  different  indeed  as  instances  but  indifferent  in  all  other 
respects.  Corporeal  objects,  time  and  all  its  events,  space  and  all  its  configurations, 
numbers,  orders,  arrays,  motions,  forces,  institutions,  etc.,  etc.,  and  all  their  evolu- 
tions and  involutions,  etc.,  etc.,  remain  as  a  plurality  of  indifferent  instances  only. 

Now,  "can  these  dry  bones  move  ?  "  Yea,  verily.  Let  but  that  moving  spirit 
that  takes  on  so  many  phases,  viz.,  distinction,  sundering,  denial,  etc.,  etc.,  and  in 
virtue  of  which  these  things  "  independent  of  their  particiilar  nature  "  obtain  as  dis- 
tinct instances,  and  also  the  antithesis  of  that  moving  spirit,  which  antithesis  also 
takes  on  the  corresponding  antithetical  phases,  viz.,  sameness,  gathering,  affirmation, 
etc. ,  etc. ,  in  virtue  of  which  the  said  things  ' '  independent  of  their  particular  nature  " 
obtain  as  copies  of  one  another  ;  let  but  these  continue  to  operate  and  subsist,  and 
"  form  "  will  evolve  in  endless  luxuriance.  Those  apparently  dependent  but  really 
fundamental  things  that  are  relations,  will  at  every  stage  appear  as  if  newly  born, 
and  out  of  this  fourfold  root,  to  wit  :  the  original  of  distinction,  etc.,  the  original  of 
sameness,  etc.,  the  sense  of  relation,  and  the  sense  of  "form  "  will  grow  sufficient 
reasons  whereby  to  explain  all  experience. 

This  ' '  form  ' '  and  its  components  generate  in  us  certain  psychological  effects 
which  are  not  merely  full  of  interest  on  their  own  account,  but  with  their  suggestions 
form  the  very  occasions  for  us  to  perceive  "  form  "  and  its  components. 

But  these  psychological  effects,  except  for  the  form  that  may  pervade  those  of 
them  that  are  complex,  are  of  no  moment  for  science  or  philosophy.  They  are  ul- 
timate irresolvable  facts,  and  as  such  only  so  many  "things"  to  be  taken  "inde- 
pendent of  their  particiilar  nature"  like  all  the  rest.  Mere  psychology,  that  is  to 
say,  psychology  less  the  "form"  that  it  exemplifies,  has  no  instruction  to  impart 
that  is  of  any  benefit  to  science  or  philosophy.'  These  very  psychological  effects  in 
their  turn  have  been  created  by  and  depend  upon  "form."  They  depend  upon  that 
which  we  call  "mind,"  or  rather  that  which  we  call  "  mind  "  is  the  organised  (that 
is  "formed  ")  aggregate  of  these  psychological  effects.  Mind  in  its  turn  depends 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  457 

upon  the  organised  (that  is  "formed")  aggregation  of  brain-stuff,  and  the  study  of 
this  as  well  as  the  study  of  mind  is  and  can  be  no  other  than  the  study  of  the 
"form"  exemplified  therein,  and  no  other  or  different  in  its  essential  nature  from 
the  study  of  "  form  "  in  general. 

In  short,  whatever  may  be  the  true  nature  of  the  universe,  whether  taken  in 
its  corporeal  aspect  or  in  its  aspects  dynamical  or  mental,  and  whatever  may  be  our 
efforts  to  comprehend  the  same  in  detail  or  in  general,  it  is  amenable  to  our  efforts 
only  as  a  manifold  of  "things,"  mere  "things" — some  undistinguished  and  some 
distinguished  from  some  others.  This  absence  of  distinction  or  presence  of  dis- 
tinction is  throughout  governed  by  relations,  and  the  distribution  of  these  undis- 
tinguished and  distinguished  things  and  arrays  of  things  throughout  the  manifold  is 
modulated  by  those  things  we  call  "laws,"  giving  occasion  for  us  to  perceive,  study 
and  organise  the  "  forms  "  that  variously  obtain. 

But  the  universe,  in  spite  of  its  segregate  nature,  is  also  a  unitary  whole.  This 
obtains  in  very  virtue  that  it  is  throughout  pervaded  by  relations  and  that  it  belongs 
to  the  very  nature  of  relations  thus  to  connect  things  together.  This  is  insuperably 
the  case,  because,  to  point  out  a  truth  by  a  paradox,  (since  such  is  the  only  way  by 
which  it  can  be  expressed,)  the  very  absence  of  a  relation  is  itself  a  relation.  There 
is  nothing,  nor  can  there  be  anything  "absolute."  Each  "thing"  is  related  (usu- 
ally in  many  ways)  to  each  other  thing  in  the  universe.  This  is  not  in  virtue  of  any 
office  that  knowing  beings  fulfil,  but  because  such  is  the  nature  of  the  universe. 
These  relations  obtain  whether  any  one  perceives  them  or  not,  and  so  it  is  error  to 
think  or  speak  as  if  the  existence  or  non-existence,  in  fact,  of  certain  relations  were 
conditioned  by  what  we  may  do  or  omit,  whether  our  conduct  be  physical  or  men- 
tal. In  short,  and  ignoring  for  this  turn  the  deeper  truth  that  for  the  behests  of 
science  or  philosophy  relations  are  the  very  "  stuff  "  of  objects,  we  may  say  that  by 
relations  the  universe  of  things  is  knit  and  re-knit,  again  and  again,  in  all  sorts  of 
ways  into  a  unitary  whole,  of  which  the  details  mutually  explain  and  illustrate  each 
other. 

I  have  said  enough,  I  think,  to  inform  M.  Mouret  that  the  logic,  science,  and 
philosophy  that  I  favor  is  throughout  "objective"  in  its  nature.  M.  Mouret  will, 
I  trust,  pardon  me,  but  it  appears  to  me  that  he  is  biassed  by  a  certain  phobia  he 
has  towards  things  metaphysical,  subjective,  introspective,  and  a  priori.  I  am  as 
much  the  adversary  of  these  when  they  are  uncomprehended  or  miscomprehended 
and  hence  ill  employed,  as  he  can  possibly  be,  but  I  conceive  the  fault  to  be  not  so 
much  those  things  themselves  as  a  certain  spirit,  attitude,  and  method  that  goes  along 
with  the  lack  of  orientation  with  regard  to  them.  Not  so  much  metaphysics  as 
metaphysicism  is  the  bane  of  science  and  philosophy.  While  we  are  denouncing  all 
tolerance  of  "metaphysical  entities"  some  one  may  ask  us  what  kind  of  entities  are 
numbers,  orders,  forces,  and  the  whole  brood  of  entities,  complex  and  less  complex, 
among  which  mathematics  makes  its  home. 

As  for  a  priori  certitude,  the  mathematician  should  be  the  very  last  one  to  dis- 


THE  MONIST. 

parage  its  validity  or  value.  It  is  simple  enough  in  its  nature  and  it  results  from 
the  truth  that  the  universe  is  interknit  together  by  a  network  of  relations  that  taken 
by  certain  details  are  "formal,"  that  is,  are  "  forms,"  which  forms  and  their  respec- 
tive components  are  in  general  susceptible  of  various  definitions.  We  know  that 
one  and  one  make  two  for  the  simple  reason  that  two  is  no  other  than  what  one  and 
one  make.  We  know  that  two  and  two  make  four  of  absolute  necessity  at  all  times, 
in  all  places,  and  under  all  circumstances,  because  that  which  we  call  four  has  and 
can  have  no  other  existence  than  as  a  member  of  a  certain  scale  of  numbers,  formed 
according  to  the  rule  we  use  in  forming  the  same,  and  that,  according  to  that  rule, 
which  is  a  rule  of  operation,  four  is  no  other  than  the  result  which  ensues  from 
taking  one  and  one  and  one  and  one  together,  that  is,  this  operation,  or  compound 
of  operations,  has  a  certain  result  as  related  to  the  formation  of  the  scale  of  num- 
bers, and  that  result  is  identical  with  the  result  that  ensues  from  the  doubly  com- 
pound operation  of  forming  first  one  two,  and  then  another  two,  and  then  lastly 
taking  these  two  single  twos  together,  and  reading  the  result  and  giving  it  its  name, 
according  to  the  names  we  have  before  given  to  our  primary  scale. 

When  we  make  such  an  affirmation  as  that  two  and  two  make  four,  we  at  bot- 
tom asseverate,  not  with  respect  to  objects,  but  with  respect  to  our  own  mental 
operations  ;  in  the  case  stated  with  respect  to  the  equivalence  of  the  results  of  cer- 
tain complexes  of  our  own  mental  operations.  Now,  to  say,  or,  with  Stuart  Mill,  to 
propound,  that  at  some  epoch  of  time,  or  at  some  region  of  space,  two  and  two 
might  make  three  or  five,  is  not  merely  to  say  or  propound  that  at  such  time  or 
place  mental  operation  might  work  otherwise  than  it  now  does,  for  that  might  be, 
and  still  consistent  results  ensue.  It  is  no  less  than  to  say  or  propound  that  then 
and  there  mental  operation  might  exist  that  would  be  inconsistent  in  its  results,  that 
is,  that  would  be  confounding,  which  is  again  only  to  say,  that  such  mental  opera- 
tion would  give  no  mental  result  at  all. 

A  priori  certainty,  rightly  regarded,  only  involves  the  faith  that  the  universe  is 
a  consistent  one,  a  reasonable  one  ;  that  while,  as  our  experience,  or  our  insight,  or 
our  presumptions,  may  influence  us,  we  may  accept  or  reject,  without  any  logical 
sin,  divers  single  doctrines,  our  liberty  in  general  is  limited,  and  we  may  not  accept 
or  reject  them  by  pairs  and  in  other  arrays,  but  must  often,  out  of  such  arrays,  hold 
some  doctrines  as  true  and  others  as  false,  if  we  hold  any  as  true  or  any  as  false. 
We  cannot,  say,  hold  a  triangle  to  be  both  scalene  and  equiangular,  nor  the  circum- 
ference of  a  circle  to  be  just  triple  its  diameter.  When,  being  unsound  as  to  our 
fundamental  notions  and  doctrines,  we  yet  insist  on  their  truth  by  authority  of  that 
na'ive  intuition  that  is  so  unreliable,  or  by  the  authority  of  an  incompetent  logical 
faculty,  or  slovenly  logical  habits,  it  is  not  any  a  priori  assurance  that  we  manifest, 
it  is  only  that  false  conceit  that  metaphysicism  so  generally  fosters. 

M.  Mouret,  in  spite  of  his  strong  lucidity  as  to  some  very  important  points,  and 
in  spite  of  his  frequent  protests,  has  not,  as  it  seems  to  me,  wholly  escaped  from 
the  meshes  of  metaphysicism.  Not  to  mention  other  signs  of  this,  his  frequent  use  of 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  459 

the  notion  ' '  attribute  "  calls  for  notice.  '  'Attribute  "  is  the  correlative  of  ' '  substance  " 
and  has  no  proper  sense  apart  from  its  correlative.  It  was  the  chief  intent  and  im- 
port of  the  work  of  Berkeley  and  Hume,  on  whom  M.  Mouret  so  well  relies,  to 
abolish  this  notion  of  substance.  We  do  not  use  either  of  these  correlatives,  unless 
it  may  be  by  inadvertence  or  in  cases  where  there  is  no  special  call  for  precision, 
out  of  a  desire  to  conform  to  the  language  understood  by  those  whom  we  address. 
In  our  fashion  of  philosophising,  one  "thing"  stands  on  just  the  same  footing  as 
another.  They  are  all  just  so  many  mere  "  things"  of  equal  original  rank. 

That  "objective  and  abstract  science"  of  "the  sum  total  of  the  exterior  ob- 
jects of  knowledge  considered  independent  of  their  particular  nature  "  is  Relation- 
Lore,  and  because  it  was  this  science  that  I  supposed  M.  Mouret  at  bottom  to  in- 
tend as  his  ideal  of  logic,  I  entitled  my  paper  "  Logic  as  Relation-Lore." 

Since  things,  merely  as  so  many  somethings  and  nothing  more,  are  the  ultimate 
products  of  analysis,  the  science  thereof,  being  the  science  of  everything,  (in  virtue 
that  everything  must  be  at  least  a  thing,)  must  be  the  true  scientia  scientarum,  ap- 
plying in  its  proper  scope,  without  exception,  to  everything  that  has  been,  or  is  now, 
or  may  possibly  be. 

It  is,  in  the  first  place,  to  be  observed  that  this  science  is  mathematical.  It  not 
merely  contains  the  sciences  of  number  and  order.  The  sciences  of  number  and 
then  of  order  lie  at  its  roots.  Pythagoras  is  said  to  have  laid  it  down  that  ' '  number 
was  the  first  principle  of  all  things."  We  should  be  glad  to  ascertain  that  that  great 
master  had  in  mind  the  science  that  M.  Mouret  forecasts  as  his  ideal  of  logic.  Or- 
der may  be  "heaven's  first  law,"  but  in  science  number  is  prior  to  order.  Such 
science  of  order  as  is  extant  takes  its  very  nomenclature  from  the  designations  of 
number. 

But,  contemporaneous  with  number  and  order,  relation-lore  obtains,  and  all 
the  essential  characteristics  of  relations  are  here  to  be  observed.  If  in  such  funda- 
mental branches  of  science  as  those  of  number  and  order  that  notion  of  a  relation 
that  knows  the  same  as  appurtenant  to  a  particular  term  and  not  as  a  betweenness, 
is  imperatively  required,  then  we  may  be  sure  that  that  same  notion  must  univer- 
sally obtain.  This  question  is  easily  settled.  Take  the  numerical  relation  of  A  to 
B ;  say  that  relation  is  two.  What  is  it  that  is  two  ?  Is  it  anything  else  than  A  ? 
Is  it  anything  between  A  and  B  ?  In  the  same  case  B  is  in  relation  to  A,  that  is,  it 
is  one-half  (not  two)  of  A.  What  is  it  that  is  one  half,  if  not  B,  and  B  alone  with- 
out any  betweenness  ?  What  is  it  that  is  one-half  but  B,  and  what  is  it  that  is  two 
but  At 

Say  again,  that  the  relation  of  A  to  B  is  a  relation  of  order,  that  is,  say  that  B 
is  third  in  order  to  A.  So  stated,  the  relation  is  not  quite  determinate,  for  A  is  also 
in  the  relation  third  in  order  to  B,  and  each  is  in  the  relation  from  the  other.  Yet 
it  is  quite  plain  that  A  stands  to  B  otherwise  than  B  stands  to  A.  We  mark  our 
feeling  of  this  difference  by  saying  that  B  is  third  in  order  after  A,  and  that  A  is 
third  in  order  before  B.  Now,  what  is  it  that  is  after  A  but  B,  and  what  is  it  that  is 


460  THE  MONIST. 

before  B  but  A  ?  Caution  is  requisite  here,  because,  though  not  involved,  or,  at 
least,  involved  only  in  an  incidental  way,  there  is  in  reality  a  betweenness,  viz. :  the 
thing  that  occupies  the  order  second.  Then,  too,  if  we  were  dealing  with  the  or- 
ders first  and  second,  instead  of  the  orders  first  and  third,  our  natural  associations 
would  tend  to  drag  in  the  interval  or  quasi-interval  that  is  usually  present  in  any 
concrete  instance  of  order.  We  can  escape  this  error  by  reflecting  that  in  the  latter 
case  the  order,  in  the  abstract  consideration,  is  in  no  wise  dependent  upon  this  in- 
terval or  quasi-interval.  We  could  just  as  well  take  this  interval  or  quasi-interval 
as  itself  one  of  the  terms  of  the  order.  The  relations  would  be  the  same  in  either 
case. 

If  that  which  is  named  after  is  between  A  and  B,  then  by  that  same  token 
that  which  is  named  before  is  there  also,  in  which  case  there  is  this  dilemma  :  Either 
the  relation  "between"  A  and  B  is  compounded  of  contraries,  or  there  are  the  two 
relations,  after  and  before,  one  pertaining  to  B  and  the  other  to  A. 

I  respectfully  submit  that  when  M.  Mouret  on  proceeding  to  study  the  relation 
of  inequality  finds  himself  compelled  to  give  two  senses  to  his  betweennesses,  he 
virtually  yields  the  whole  matter  now  in  issue.  Since  a  sense,  in  the  meaning  of  M. 
Mouret,  is  the  result  of  a  more  ultimate  analysis  than  is  a  relation,  (as  he  under- 
stands the  same,)  and  since  all  relations,  (as  he  conceives  them,)  may  be  regarded 
either  as  senses,  or  as  compounded  of  senses,  it  is  hard  to  see  any  good  reason  for 
his  habitudes  in  respect  to  the  nature  of  those  important  entities. 

in.     M.  MOURET'S  THEORY  OF  RELATIONS. 

If  I  have  justified  the  doctrine  that  I  hold  with  respect  to  the  nature  of  rela- 
tions, it  follows  as  a  matter  of  course  that  M.  Mouret  labors  under  disadvantage  in 
framing  his  theory  thereof. 

He  tells  us  that  his  theory  takes  its  true  prompting  and  instruction,  not  from 
the  axiom  of  symmetry,  as  I  had  supposed,  but  from  the  principle  of  Spencer.  I 
can  urge  this  in  excuse,  that  of  all  the  several  maxims  akin  to  it,  the  axiom  of  sym- 
metry is  the  only  one  that  bears  any  fruitful  meaning.  M.  Mouret,  very  properly, 
as  I  think,  insists  on  the  constant  recognition  of  the  necessary  relativity  that  must 
obtain  as  to  all  the  objects  of  knowledge.  He  will  have  already  seen  by  the  fore- 
going that  no  one  ought  more  strenuously  to  insist  on  such  recognition  than  myself. 
Indeed,  both  he  and  myself  are,  by  our  fundamental  doctrines,  committed  to  the 
recognition  that  all  the  objects  of  knowledge  are  and  must  be  interrelated  ;  that  any 
such  case  as  that  of  any  object  of  knowledge  unrelated  is  wholly  inadmissible,  and 
this  naturally,  insuperably,  and  unconditionally.  We  do  not  evoke  the  relations  by 
our  conduct ;  they  are  there  pro  re  nata.  Now,  I  hardly  know  what  to  understand 
by  an  indefinite  or  by  a  constant  relation.  I  can  easily  read  into  the  maxims  of 
Mr.  Spencer  and  George  Eliot,  in  each  case,  more  than  one  intent,  but  for  no  in- 
tent that  occurs  to  me  can  I  perceive  that  either  of  these  maxims  are  made  of  any 
considerable  avail.  Any  two  things  have  by  the  general  case  that  allows  of  rela- 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  461 

tivity  at  all  a  definite  relation,  in  this,  that  they  either  coexist  or  they  non-coexist, 
(one  case  of  which  non-coexistence  is  sequence).  Just  what  role  the  definiteness  or 
indefiniteness  of  the  relations  of  either  or  both  of  them  to  a  third  thing  may  fulfil, 
either  in  supporting  or  in  ascertaining  either  one  of  these  definite  relations,  it  is  diffi- 
cult for  me  to  see.  With  regard  to  constancy  ;  among  all  the  relations  that  two  things 
might  bear  to  each  other,  it  would  be  a  singular  case  that  would  find  them  without  any 
constant  relation  at  all,  so  that  again  the  role  that  the  constancy  or  the  inconstancy 
of  the  relations  of  either  or  both  of  them  to  a  third  thing  might  fulfil,  either  in  sup- 
porting or  in  ascertaining  the  existence  of  an  unassigned  constant  relation,  is  be- 
yond my  ability  to  state.  Hence,  to  lay  it  down  with  gravity  that  "  things  that 
have  a  definite  relation  to  the  same  thing  have  a  definite  relation  to  one  another,'' 
or  that  "things  that  have  a  constant  relation  to  the  same  thing  have  a  constant  re- 
lation to  one  another,"  is  only  to  imply  a  dependence  upon  or  a  contingency  upon 
that  which  in  reality  is  altogether  lacking,  so  far  as  we  can  see,  in  governing  or  in 
instructive  efficacy. 

The  truth  is,  that  after  we  have  recognised  the  subsistence  of  universal  rela- 
tivity, it  is  precisely  the  ascertaining  of  the  different  kinds  of  relations  and  the  as- 
certaining of  the  connexions  of  these  different  kinds  of  relations  with  one  another 
that  can  alone  benefit  us  to  any  considerable  extent.  This  is  not,  as  M.  Mouret 
supposes,  a  matter  of  psychology,  an  ascertaining  of  that  which  constitutes  "the 
subjective  element, "  but  an  "objective  and  abstract "  study  of  "  the  sum  total  of 
the  exterior  objects  of  knowledge,"  and  at  least  in  the  earlier  stages  of  this  study  it 
is  very  much  facilitated  by  considering  them  "independent  of  their  particular  na- 
ture." Hence  I  must  decidedly  disapprove  of  the  method  of  M.  Mouret,  in  select- 
ing a  lot  of  concrete  examples  for  study.  It  seems  to  me  a  useless  and  needless 
invitation  to  error. 

I  have  no  special  fault  to  find  with  the  three  leading  principles  laid  down  by 
M.  Mouret  with  respect  to  concepts,  save,  perhaps,  in  so  far  as  he  claims  that  the 
negative  of  a  concept  is  by  any  necessity  single.  I  must  protest,  however,  that  I  can- 
not agree  with  him  that  these  three  leading  principles  "cover  the  entire  subject." 
I  do  not  even  see  that  they  are,  in  essence,  new.  He  may  have  shown  what  is  un- 
doubtedly true,  that  many  of  the  concepts  of  scientific  order  are  composed  of  less 
complex  elements,  but  I  cannot  assent  to  the  proposition  that  these  less  complex 
elements,  or  even  that  the  most  simple  thereof,  are  reducible  to  "  states  of  con- 
sciousness "  until  I  know  better  what  is  to  be  understood  by  the  phrase  "states  of 
consciousness";  a  phrase,  I  may  add,  that  is  very  much  overworked.  A  "state  of 
consciousness"  may  be  taken  to  mean  the  " form  "  expressed  therein,  or  it  may 
mean  the  various  psychological  effects,  which,  as  I  have  before  stated,  I  consider 
in  themselves  as  both  irreducible  and  valueless  for  the  behests  of  both  science  and 
philosophy.  In  either  case  the  solution  claimed  by  M.  Mouret  is  obnoxious  to  the 
criticism  that  consciousness  grades  off  continuously  into  unconsciousness,  and,  al- 
though we  may  lay  it  down  that  every  notion  or  relation  ought  under  analysis  of 


462  THE  MONIST. 

adequate  power  to  resolve  without  limit  into  other  notions  or  relations,  we  may  not 
say  of  any  status  that  just  emerges  over  the  threshold  of  consciousness  that  its  ele- 
ments are  primordial.  Contrariwise  we  should  expect  and  hold  that  our  most  simple 
notions  and  relations  depend  upon  components  that  are  not  perceptible  or  that 
are  sub-perceptible  only.  All  this,  however,  is  the  instruction  that  the  introspec- 
tive method  yields.  The  "objective  and  abstract"  science  above  mentioned  in- 
volves no  such  problems.  I  must  also  record  my  respectful  dissent  from  the  claim 
of  M.  Mouret  that  he  has  pointed  out  the  order  and  conditions  of  the  derivation  of 
concepts,  and  that  he  has  described  all  the  conditions  for  the  passage  from  the  known 
to  the  unknown. 

IV.  MATHEMATICAL  EQUALITY. 

M.  Mouret  says  in  his  foot-note  to  section  (2)  of  the  paper  I  criticised  :  "In  the 
present  essay  I  use  the  word  mathematics  to  signify  exclusively  the  science  of  num- 
bers and  of  quantities,  in  technical  terms  the  theory  of  numbers  and  of  mathematical 
analysis,"  and  his  context  shows  that  he  expressly  excluded  geometry,  mechanics, 
physics,  chemistry,  etc.  Hence  I  took  him  to  mean  by  "  mathematical  equality  " 
numerical  equality,  at  least  in  the  main.  The  gist  of  what  he  says  upon  this  branch 
of  our  subject  in  his  reply  may  be  comprised  in  his  remark,  that  equality  and  in- 
equality are  correlative  relations,  which  is  entirely  true,  and  in  his  claim  that  equality 
is  logically  prior  to  inequality,  inequality  being  denned  by  equality.  In  my  own  paper 
I  advanced  an  argument  designed  expressly  to  show  that  this  was  not  the  case,  equal- 
ity being  denned  by  two  correlative  inequalities.  I  can  only  reiterate  my  former  argu- 
ment, which  as  yet  remains  unanswered.  I  may  say  here  that  I  believe  I  am  in  accord 
with  many  digtinguished  logicians  in  holding  that  the  only  propositions  that  are  un- 
conditional in  their  signification  are  and  must  be  negative  in  their  form.  The  re- 
mark of  Hegel  that  all  determination  is  by  negation  is,  I  believe,  well  approved  as 
a  logical  principle. 

V.  THE  AXIOM  OF  SYMMETRY. 

I  cannot  see  that  M.  Mouret  has  justified  the  axiom  of  symmetry  or  in  any  wise 
parried  the  thrusts  I  gave  it.  Most  of  his  arguments  depend  upon  the  validity  of 
his  view  of  the  nature  of  relations.  That  axiom  is  stated  in  an  unqualified  way, 
and  it  asserts  no  less  than  that  whenever  or  wherever,  no  matter  how  brief  the  in- 
stant or  how  contracted  the  region,  any  two  things  have  the  same  symmetrical  re- 
lation to  a  third  thing,  that  then  and  there  that  same  symmetrical  relation  exists 
between  the  first  two  things.  Clearly,  then,  as  it  seems  to  me,  it  was  only  open  to 
M.  Mouret  to  show  as  to  the  instances  that  I  cited,  either  that  the  axiom  was  ful- 
filled or  that  my  instances  were  not  cases  of  the  conjoint  existence  of  a  like  sym- 
metrical relation  between  each  of  two  things  to  a  third  thing.  Now,  what  kind  of  an 
axiom  is  that,  that  when  the  case  that  it  contemplates  exists,  is  sometimes  true  and 
sometimes  not  true  ?  The  case  of  mutual  friendship  supposes  that  A  and  C  are  mu- 
tual friends,  coincidently  that  B  and  C  are  also  mutual  friends.  Suppose  that  this 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  463 

state  of  affairs  endures  for  an  instant  only,  then  if  mutual  friendship  is  a  symmetrical 
relation,  and  if  the  axiom  is  valid,  A  and  B  must  be  mutual  friends.  I  appealed  to 
experience  that  such  was  often  not  the  result,  and  while  much  that  M.  Mouret  says 
in  avoidance  is  very  true,  it  does  not  as  it  seems  to  me  at  all  meet  the  exigency  of 
the  case  which  is  very  simple,  viz. :  Does  mutual  friendship  exist  between  A  and  B 
if  it  exists  between  A  and  C  and  at  the  same  time  between  B  and  Cl  or  on  the  other 
hand,  Is  mutual  friendship  a  symmetrical  relation  ? 

The  case  of  the  distance  of  two  points  from  a  third  is  made  totally  irrelevant 
owing  to  the  different  views  held  by  M.  Mouret  and  myself  as  to  the  nature  of  rela- 
tions. He  looks  upon  a  relation  as  a  betweenness,  and  consequently  a  distance  is 
to  him  only  a  single  relation,  while  I  regard  the  same  as  the  conjunction  of  two 
convertible  relations. 

The  case  of  the  sun  and  two  planets  is  avoided  by  M.  Mouret  by  the  denial  that 
there  is  in  that  case  any  conjunction  of  relations  of  mutual  equilibrium.  He  sees 
in  that  case  only  relations  of  mutual  attraction.  I  cannot  stop  to  dispute  over  the 
question  of  equilibrium.  It  is  a  relation  that  would  require  much  time  and  space 
to  demonstrate  as  existing  in  the  case  in  question  in  every  scientific  sense.  Instead 
of  that  I  will  take  the  case  of  a  similar  kind  to  that  admitted  by  M.  Mouret ;  viz., 
a  case  of  mutual  attraction.  A  and  B  are  bodies  charged  with  positive  electricity, 
and  C  is  a  body  charged  with  negative  electricity.  Hence  between  A  and  C  there 
is  a  mutual  attraction,  and  so  is  there  also  between  B  and  C,  but  instead  of  A  and  B 
attracting  one  another  as  by  the  axiom  of  symmetry  they  should,  they  on  the  very 
contrary  repel  one  another.  The  simple  objective  verity  does  not  hold. 

In  order  that  M.  Mouret  may  not  think  that  I  have  disregarded  his  "  axiom  of 
the  three  senses"  and  what  he  has  to  say  on  its  behalf,  I  make  this  mention.  I 
must  protest  that  this  new  axiom  is  in  just  as  bad  a  plight  as  is  the  axiom  of  sym- 
metry, but  the  already  too  great  length  of  this  paper  forbids  me  to  enter  upon  any 
discussion  of  the  same. 

In  conclusion  I  wish  to  thank  M.  Mouret  for  his  notice  of  my  criticisms.  If  in 
the  ardor  of  advocacy  I  have  been  betrayed  into  any  remark  that  seems  to  him  un- 
gracious, I  wish  to  blot  it  out  and  to  assure  him  not  formally  but  really  of  my  dis- 
tinguished regard. 

FRANCIS  C.  RUSSELL. 


BOOK  REVIEWS. 


NATURAL  THEOLOGY.  The  Gifford  Lectures  Delivered  Before  the  University  of 
Edinburgh  in  1893.  By  Prof.  Sir  G.  G.  Stokes,  Bart.  London  :  Adam  and 
Charles  Black.  Chicago  :  A.  C.  McClurg  &  Co.  1893.  Pp.  272.  Price, 
$1.50. 

The  object  of  Lord  Gifford  in  founding  the  course  of  lectures  which  goes  by 
his  name  and  which  is  now  so  widely  known,  was  to  promote,  advance,  teach,  and 
diffuse  the  study  of  natural  theology  in  the  widest  sense  of  that  term,  in  other  words, 
"The  Knowledge  of  God,  the  Infinite,  the  All,  the  First  and  Only  Cause,  the  One 
"and  the  Sole  Substance,  the  Sole  Being,  the  Sole  Reality,  and  the  Sole  Existence, 
"  the  Knowledge  of  His  Nature  and  Attributes,  the  Knowledge  of  the  Relations 
"  which  men  and  the  whole  universe  bear  to  Him,  the  Knowledge  of  the  Nature  and 
"Foundation  of  Ethics  or  Morals,  and  of  all  Obligations  and  Duties  thence  arising.1 
Our  readers  are  probably  already  acquainted  with  some  of  these  lectures,  all  of 
which  we  believe  have  appeared  in  book-form,  and  especially  with  those  of  Prof. 
Max  Miiller,  reports  of  which  were  published  in  The  Open  Court  several  years  ago. 
The  last  course  was  delivered  by  Prof.  SirG.  G.  Stokes,  a  physical  scientist  of  great 
ability,  whose  work,  especially  in  optics,  is  celebrated.  Unquestionably  the  views 
which  an  eminent  practical  scientist  holds  upon  the  question  of  Natural  Theology 
should  be  of  great  interest,  as  characteristic  of  the  thought  of  our  time  ;  and  in  Pro- 
fessor Stokes's  case  this  interest  is  unusually  heightened  since  his  views  seem  to  run 
counter  to  the  drift  of  speculation  now  generally  prevailing  among  physicists. 

Professor  Stokes's  lectures  (this  is  the  second  course)  are  divided  into  two  parts  : 
the  six  lectures  which  form  the  first  part  deal  with  scientific  subjects,  in  so  far  as 
these  support  the  original  thesis  of  Lord  Gifford  to  which  the  lecturer  is  limited  ; 
the  remaining  four  lectures  refer  to  distinctively  Christian  doctrines,  in  so  far  as 
these  agree  with  the  scheme  of  natural  theology.  In  the  first  lecture,  Professor 
Stokes  takes  up  the  history  of  the  undulatory  theory  of  light.  He  shows  how  we 
were  led  to  this  theory  by  other  natural  analogies  familiar  to  us,  and  how  we  were 
gradually  obliged  to  change  the  suppositions  which  we  originally  made  and  ulti- 
mately to  assume  the  existence  of  certain  properties  of  the  ether  which  we  do  not 
meet  with  in  the  ordinary  course  of  our  experience  of  things,  and  which  are  in  some 


BOOK   REVIEWS.  465 

respects  even  mysterious  ;  in  other  words,  the  properties  of  the  luminiferous  ether 
turned  out  to  be  greatly  different  from  what  we  first  thought  they  were.  The  con- 
clusion from  this  is,  that  if  in  this  physical  investigation  we  had  displayed  the  same 
stubbornness  which  we  now  exhibit  in  theological  [and  spiritualistic]  investigations, 
we  should  have  missed  great  discoveries — discoveries  which  are  now  accepted  as 
facts  of  actual,  legitimate  science  ;  and  consequently  that  we  are  much  more  likely 
to  make  mistakes  and  miss  things  highly  important  to  our  welfare  if,  relying  upon 
our  knowledge  of  the  laws  of  nature,  we  summarily  dismiss  the  evidence  of  asserted 
facts,  which,  if  true,  are  of  a  character  to  lie  altogether  outside  of  the  ordinary 
course  of  nature.  This  point  excellently  characterises  the  expositions  of  the  lecturer. 
It  leads  him  to  a  notion  of  the  supernatural  or  of  events  which  do  not  belong  to  the 
ordinary  familiar  course  of  nature  (although  the  argument  really  involves  only  the 
assumption  of  things  unknown);  and  to  the  belief  that  the  instantaneous  communi- 
cation of  intelligence  from  one  part  of  the  universe  to  another  is  possible  (Lecture 
II).  It  is  not  necessary  to  say  that  Professor  Stokes  also  accepts  as  evidence  of  de- 
sign the  adaptedness  of  organs  to  their  purposes  (Lectures  III  and  IV),  and  that 
though  he  accepts  evolutionary  processes  (Lecture  V)  he  yet  contends  that  there  is 
no  incompatibility  between  evolutionary  processes  and  the  superposition  thereto  of 
occasional  creative  acts  for  special  purposes  (Lecture  VI).  With  respect  to  the  last 
four  lectures  we  need  only  mention  that  the  deficiencies  which  natural  theology 
leaves  in  the  scheme  of  divine  moral  government  are,  in  the  lecturer's  view,  in  great 
part  supplied  by  Christianity.  It  is  Professor  Stokes' s  belief  that  any  divorce  be- 
tween natural  theology  and  revealed  religion  is,  in  whichever  aspect  we  look  at  it, 
to  be  deprecated. 

The  point  which  will  claim  most  the  attention  of  the  philosopher  or  rather 
epistemologist  in  Professor  Stokes's  position  is  that  expounded  in  the  first  lecture, 
namely,  to  what  extent  our  holding  fast  to  the  received  truths  and  ideas  of  science 
and  to  the  facts  with  which  we  are  familiar,  will  impede  the  further  investigation 
of  nature.  His  example  from  the  theory  of  light  is  a  good  one,  and  might  be  sup- 
plemented by  a  score  of  others  from  all  branches  of  science  and  art.  But  is  Pro- 
fessor Stokes's  analysis  of  this  example  correct? 

The  mysterious  properties  to  which  Professor  Stokes  refers  are  the  facts  that 
if  the  luminiferous  ether  exists  it  must  at  the  same  time  behave  like  an  elastic  solid 
in  resisting  the  gliding  of  one  portion  over  another,  and  yet  like  a  fluid  in  letting 
bodies  pass  freely  through  it.  That  it  exists,  Professor  Stokes  has  no  doubt.  But 
the  existence  of  nondescript  things  and  their  explanation  are  different  matters.  Cer- 
tainly, the  discovery  of  strange  things  is  allowable,  but  their  explanation  is  some- 
thing which  must  be  effected  with  reference  to  known,  familiar  things.  This  is  the 
case  with  the  above-mentioned  property  of  the  ether.  It  is  strange  and  unfamiliar 
because  it  contradicts  our  ordinary  experience,  and  it  will  remain  such  until  it  is 
reconciled  with  the  latter.  Of  course,  in  this  argument  it  is  assumed  that  this  prop- 
erty of  the  ether  is  a  fact.  But  epistemologically  it  is  not  a  fact,  but  the  logical  out- 


466  THE  MONIST. 

come  of  an  hypothesis  which  we  have  formed  to  facilitate  our  view  of  facts.  Such 
hypotheses,  if  truly  scientific  and  definitive,  must  follow  what  is  called  the  principle 
of  continuity;  that  is,  they  must  attribute  to  the  hypothetical  entities  they  assume, 
such  properties,  and  such  only,  as  are  not  contradicted  by  our  experience  of 
' '  large ' '  bodies.  Perhaps  this  theory  of  research  is  wrong  ;  but  it  is  at  least  the  one 
which  has  led  to  the  greatest  discoveries — even  to  the  wave-theory  of  light.  The  con- 
clusion of  it  is,  not  that  the  nondescript  property  of  the  ether  referred  to  is  a  "  great 
discovery,"  but  rather  that  there  is  a  very  important  problem  presented  here  in  con- 
nexion with  the  wave- theory  of  light,  which  if  it  cannot  be  explained  by  reference  to 
familiar  established  facts,  will  ultimately  render  necessary  a  revision  of  the  undula- 
tory  theory  of  light,  in  some  such  sense  as  took  place  when  transverse  vibrations 
were  substituted  for  longitudinal. 

But  whether  the  author's  analysis  of  the  point  in  question  is  correct  or  not,  the 
principle  which  it  is  used  to  establish,  could  be  independently  affirmed.  If  it  is 
valid,  then  the  whole  history  of  science  has  been  in  vain.  After  all  our  struggles 
we  have  not  really  attained  a  scientific  criterion  of  truth,  and  scientific  criticism  is 
stultified.  Professor  Stokes's  solution  of  the  problem,  How  shall  research  be  con- 
ducted, gives  free  scope  to  the  wildest  vagaries  of  the  spiritualist,  and  to  the  ignorant 
and  incompetent  of  all  classes,  while  it  discredits  the  judgment  of  the  trained  crit- 
ical inquirer  and  gives  to  every  one,  under  the  pretext  of  prejudice,  the  right  to  im- 
pugn the  validity  of  scientific  results.  T.  J.  McCoRMACK. 

ASPECTS  OF  THEISM.  By  William  Knight,  LL.  D.,  Professor  of  Moral  Philosophy 
in  the  University  of  St.  Andrews.  London  and  New  York  :  Macmillan  & 
Co.  1893.  Price,  $2.25. 

The  twelve  lectures  which  constitute  this  work  were  delivered  at  Dundee  in 
1870,  at  Salisbury  in  1890,  and  at  London  in  1891.  Its  main  conclusions  were  pub- 
lished in  1879  in  Professor  Knight's  "  Studies  in  Philosophy  and  Literature."  The 
feature  of  the  book  is  its  statement  that  Theism  must  be  treated  as  a  problem  of 
philosophy.  No  theory  of  things,  the  author  justly  argues,  whether  theological, 
scientific,  or  historical,  which  dispenses  with  philosophy,  can  have  either  an  ade- 
quate basis  or  a  root  of  endurance.  The  style  of  Professor  Knight's  work  is  re- 
markably clear  and  elegant — an  excellence  which  is  surpassed  only  by  the  outspoken- 
ness of  its  opinions. 

In  Professor  Knight's  view,  though  the  ontological,  cosmological,  and  teleo- 
logical  arguments  all  possess  a  germ  of  truth,  each  in  itself  is  insufficient.  His  own 
argument  or  solution  combines  the  points  of  view  of  all  thought  on  this  subject ;  it 
represents  ' '  the  theistic  view  of  the  Universe  as  a  focus  at  which  the  conclusions  of 
"Speculative  Philosophy,  Science,  Poetry,  Art,  History,  and  Religion  meet — a 
"  focus  at  which  the  personal  and  the  impersonal  view  of  the  ultimate  mystery  com- 
"  bine."  His  argument  is  full  of  beauty  and  charm.  But  it  is  more  a  feeling  than 
an  argument,  and  to  appreciate  fully  its  strength  one  must  have  personal  experience 


BOOK  REVIEWS.  467 

of  the  moods  and  sentiments  out  of  which  it  has  grown.  That  is  to  say,  one  might 
convince  oneself  by  it  after  one  had  reached  the  conviction,  but  hardly  another, 
who  was  without  it. 

Remarking  that  Professor  Knight's  favorite  term  for  God  is  "  The  Infinite," 
his  argument  might  be  briefly,  but  brokenly,  restated  as  follows.  The  proofs  of 
Theism  are  not  philosophically  recondite.  They  do  not  require  any  great  or  orig- 
inal speculative  power  to  comprehend  them.  They  are  as  patent  to  the  "  hewer  of 
wood  and  the  drawer  of  water"  as  to  the  philosopher  ;  so  much  so  in  fact  that  in- 
tuitive evidence,  above  and  beyond  all  other  kinds  of  evidence,  is  "the  impregnable 
fortress  of  Theism."  He  is  best  fitted  for  knowledge  of  God  who  brings  to  his  task 
a  heart  that  "watches  and  receives."  There  is  going  on  in  Nature  an  incessant 
apocalypse  of  the  Infinite,  which  is  a  real  disclosure  of  God  as  constant  as  the  sun- 
rise, in  the  apprehension  of  which  the  basis  of  Theism  is  laid.  We  might  call  this 
means  of  knowledge  intellectual  and  moral  second-sight.  Poets  [and,  we  might  add, 
mystics]  possess  it  in  the  highest  degree.  Instead  of  a  conclusion,  and  this  is  the 
very  core  of  Professor  Knight's  argument,  Theism  is  a  premise  which  has  other 
proof  than  the  evidence  of  ratiocination,  and  on  which  the  human  race  carries  about 
with  it  a  vast  and  many-sided  conviction,  of  which  it  knows  not  the  evidence,  but 
which  is  the  outcome  of  momentary  illuminations.  The  Ontologist  and  the  Tele- 
ologist,  in  their  pictures  of  God,  unconsciously  draw  their  own  portraits ;  but  the 
Intuitionalist,  in  his  picture  of  God,  only  draws  the  image  which  he  sees  and  which 
is  revealed  to  him  not  as  a  "form  of  his  mind's  own  throwing,"  nor  as  one  due  to 
the  penetration  of  his  Finite  Spirit,  but  as  an  act  of  "gracious  condescension  "  on 
the  part  of  the  Infinite.  Further,  and  supplementarily,  the  evidence  on  which  our 
conviction  rests  is  cumulative.  No  one  individual  sees  all  of  God  ;  each  sees  only 
a  part.  Our  idea  of  God  is  a  heritage  of  the  human  race,  to  which  all  nations  and 
all  philosophies  have  contributed  their  quota.  It  may  be  added,  also  supplementa- 
rily, that  although  no  limitations  are  admissible  to  circumscribe  this  idea,  yet  any 
epithet  may  be  applied  to  the  Infinite  which  helps  us  to  understand  it,  and  though 
we  may  now  describe  it  as  "It"  and  again  as  "Thou,"  yet,  since  we  cannot  wor- 
ship an  Impersonal  or  Absolute  Being,  we  must  put  ourselves  in  intelligible  relation 
with  the  Infinite  and  regard  it  not  as  an.  abstract  essence,  but  as  a  real  thing,  which 
is  best  done  by  conjoining  with  it  the  notion  of  personality;  in  other  words,  ' '  Thou  " 
or  "He"  is  preferable  to  "It." 

Philosophically,  the  Infinite  or  God  of  Professor  Knight  assumes  many  forms, 
is  in  fact  everything  but  the  Finite,  forming  a  kind  of  enlightened  Pantheism.  In 
so  far  as  it  exhibits  itself  as  a  result  of  the  analysis  of  physical  ideas  it  is  a  supreme 
Principle,  Force,  Essence,  Energy,  Being,  the  One  beyond  the  Many,  the  Essence 
beneath  Appearance,  Substance  within  Phenomena,  the  Absolute  beyond  the  rela- 
tive. And  as  the  supreme  idea  of  force  is  will,  this  principle  is  a  self-conscious 
Mind  and  Will.  In  this  climax  of  research  Metaphysics  and  Theism  unite,  and  the 
result  is  God. 


468  THE  MONIST. 

Professor  Knight's  idea  seems  to  be  that  the  Infinite  or  God  is  everything  which 
exists,  which  is  not  the  Finite,  and,  we  may  add,  since  he  is  a  professed  Dualist,  it 
is  also  a  few  things  which  do  not  exist.  The  idea  of  the  Infinite  in  his  presentation, 
regarded  as  the  correlative  of  the  Finite,  is  the  outcome  of  the  doctrine  of  the  rela- 
tivity of  knowledge.  From  this  relation  it  follows,  according  to  Professor  Knight's 
thinking,  that  our  notion  of  the  Infinite  is  just  as  positive  as  our  notion  of  the  Fin- 
ite ;  though  it  is  not  given  us  with  the  luminous  clearness  that  its  correlative  is, 
nevertheless  it  is  a  real  term  and  a  real  relation. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  metaphysics.  The  one  which  imports  its  abstract  no- 
tions into  reality,  and  the  other  which  derives  its  abstract  notions  from  reality. 
Professor  Knight's  reasoning  is  an  instance  of  the  former.  He  says,  the  Finite  im- 
plies the  Infinite,  as  the  centre  does  a  circumference,  etc.,  etc.  This  is  true  as  a 
term  of  thought,  but  it  is  not  true  as  a  term  of  reality.  The  Infinite  as  a  positive 
existence  follows  no  more  from  its  correlative  "Finite,"  than  the  truth  of  the  con- 
verse of  a  logical  or  geometrical  proposition  follows  from  the  truth  of  the  proposi- 
tion. The  idea  of  our  real  space  of  three  dimensions  implies  the  idea  of  a  space  of 
four  or  n  dimensions,  but  not  its  existence.  Again  we  may  form  some  notion  of 
what  is  meant  when  we  speak  of  infinite  magnitude,  but  what  is  infinite  qtialityl 
As  a  fact,  we  derive  our  notion  of  the  Infinite  from  finite  things  ;  we  have  formed 
it  as  a  help  of  thought ;  it  is  absolutely  a  negative  notion.  The  fact  of  its  being  a 
correlative  of  the  notion  of  Finite  proves  nothing  ;  its  nature  cannot  be  deduced 
from  a  metaphysical  relation,  but  must  be  deduced  from  the  facts  on  the  basis  of 
which  it  was  constructed.  What  "hewer  of  wood  or  drawer  of  water  "  has  a  clear 
notion  of  the  Infinite  as  a  necessity  of  thought !  It  is  essentially  a  philosophical, 
theological,  and  mathematical  idea.  In  the  first  two  branches  it  may  mean  almost 
anything.  In  the  last  only  has  it  been  accurately  defined  and  made  use  of  as  a  real 
and  serviceable  idea. 

The  dualism  of  man  and  nature  which  Professor  Knight  upholds,  when  ana- 
lysed, really  indicates  the  separation  of  the  notions  of  Finite  and  Infinite.  Suppose, 
for  instance,  and  the  supposition  is  as  allowable  as  the  allegory  of  personality,  that 
nature,  including  man,  were  a  great  machine  in  which  the  motion  of  one  part  de- 
termined the  motions  of  all  the  other  parts,  so  that  the  motion  of  a  part  of  my  brain 
determined  the  universe.  Would  there  then  be  an  Infinite  ?  /  would  be  God,  man, 
and  universe  in  one.  This  is  an  "idealistic"  view.  But  the  difficulty  is,  that  the 
motions  of  my  brain,  materially,  or  spiritually  my  ideas,  my  volitions,  do  not  deter- 
mine the  other  parts  of  the  universe.  They  only  determine  the  parts  of  it  which 
are  included  within  the  circumscription  of  what  is  termed  my  self  or  ego.  Beyond 
it  rises  the  non-ego,  the  (by  me)  undetermined  part,  the  universe,  the  world,  God. 
This  undetermined  part,  compared  with  "  my  "  determinable  part,  really  is  infinite. 
But  why  should  we  view  it  under  the  notions  of  personality,  will,  etc.  One  remark- 
able part  of  this  phase  of  existence,  mind,  nature,  or  whatever  it  may  be  called,  is, 
that  its  conduct  is  remarkably  stubborn  and  uniform.  Stones  fall  to  the  ground 


BOOK  REVIEWS.  469 

fluids  seek  their  level,  bodies  grow  cold,  never  hot,  of  themselves.  If  /determined 
these  events,  they  would  often  take  place  differently.  Consequently,  if  there  is  a 
mind  or  will  which  directs  the  universe,  it  is  a  remarkably  single-minded  one,  and 
a  rigid  one,  and  so  much  higher  than  our  feeble  and  wavering  will  that  it  would  be 
much  better  if  we  should  compare  ourselves  to  it  rather  than  make  it  an  image  of 
ourselves. 

It  only  remains  to  be  said  that  Professor  Knight's  solution  of  the  problem  of 
the  universe  is  also  a  henistic  one,  in  the  sense  in  which  that  word  was  explained 
in  the  last  Monist.  The  Infinite  or  God  is  a  great  sea  of  imperishable,  invisible 
essence,  in  which  man  and  nature,  "all  the  choir  of  heaven  and  the  furniture  of 
the  earth,"  float.  ///cp/c. 

THE  EVANSTON  COLLOQUIUM.  LECTURES  ON  MATHEMATICS.  ~B>yProf.  Felix  Klein. 
Reported  by  Alexander  Ziwet.  New  York  and  London  :  Macmillan  &  Co. 
1894.  Pp.  109.  Price,  $1.50. 

One  of  the  most  prominent  mathematicians  who  attended  the  recent  Congress 
of  Mathematics  at  Chicago  was  Prof.  Felix  Klein,  of  the  University  of  Gottingen, 
Commissioner  of  the  German  University  Exhibit  at  the  Columbian  Exposition. 
After  the  adjournment  of  the  Congress,  Professor  Klein,  by  special  request,  held  a 
colloquium  on  mathematics  in  the  Northwestern  University,  at  Evanston,  Illinois. 
The  meetings  lasted  from  August  28  until  September  9,  during  which  interval  Pro- 
fessor Klein  delivered  twelve  lectures.  As  the  lectures  were  delivered  to  members 
of  the  Mathematical  Congress,  they  are  somewhat  in  the  nature  of  a  supplement  to 
the  proceedings  of  the  Congress,  which  will  explain  the  incompleteness  of  their 
character.  At  the  end  of  the  lectures  a  translation  is  printed  of  the  historical 
sketch,  "  Mathematics  at  the  German  Universities,"  contributed  by  Professor  Klein 
to  the  great  two-volume  work  of  the  German  Exhibit,  Die  deutschen  Universitaten, 
mention  of  which  is  made  in  The  Monist  of  October,  1893.  This  sketch  brings  the 
subject  down  to  1870  ;  it  is  the  object  of  the  Colloquium,  therefore,  to  pass  in  review 
some  of  the  principal  phases  of  the  most  recent  development  of  mathematical  thought 
in  Germany. 

The  first  six  lectures  are  largely  geometrical  in  character.  Lecture  I  is  de- 
voted to  Clebsch,  whose  most  valuable  work  is  said  to  be  his  generalisation  of  the 
whole  theory  of  Abelian  integrals  to  a  theory  of  algebraic  functions  with  several 
variables  ;  Lectures  II  and  III,  to  Sophus  Lie,  whose  forte  is  said  to-be  the  appli- 
cation of  geometrical  intuition  to  questions  of  analysis,  best  expressed  in  his  earliest 
memoirs.  Lecture  IV  is  devoted  to  ' '  The  Real  Shape  of  Algebraic  Curves  and 
Surfaces."  Professor  Klein  sets  up  three  chief  types  of  mathematicians,  namely  : 
logicians,  formalists,  and  intuitionalists.  He  classes  himself  among  the  third  and 
first.  The  intuitionalist  feature  of  his  mind  is  exhibited  in  the  present  lecture,  to 
the  subject  of  which  he  has  personally  contributed  much.  The  characteristics  of 
the  geometrical  method  as  discussed  in  this  lecture  are  that  they  give  an  actual 


470 


THE  MONIST. 


mental  image  of  the  configuration  under  discussion,  a  feature  which  Professor  Klein 
considers  the  most  essential  in  all  true  geometry.  Lecture  V  is  on  "  The  Theory 
of  Functions  and  Geometry,"  where  an  example  is  given  of  the  general  discussion 
of  complex  functions  by  means  of  geometry. 

Lecture  VI,  "  On  the  Mathematical  Character  of  Space-Intuition,  and  the  Re- 
lation of  Pure  Mathematics  to  the  Applied  Sciences,"  is  that  of  greatest  interest  to 
the  philosopher  and  teacher.  Professor  Klein  refers  here  to  his  distinction  of  na'ive 
and  refined  geometrical  intuition,  the  first  of  which  is  active  in  all  periods  of  gene- 
sis, and  the  latter  in  all  periods  of  criticism.  For  example,  the  period  of  Euclid 
was  that  of  the  refined  intuition  ;  for  his  methods  are  not  methods  of  discovery,  but 
simply  methods  of  confirmation.  He  applies  this  distinction  to  modern  mathematical 
disciplines,  and  also  gives  us  some  excellent  remarks  on  the  theory  of  knowledge 
and  on  methods  of  mathematical  instruction.  The  problem,  also,  whether  the 
study  of  mathematics  should  have  wholly  utilitarian  ends  in  view  is  here  touched 
upon,  as  it  is  also  in  Lecture  XII.  Professor  Klein  is  conscious  "  of  a  growing 
danger  in  the  higher  educational  system  of  Germany, — the  danger  of  a  separation 
between  abstract  mathematical  science  and  its  scientific  and  technical  applications." 
He  says,  such  a  separation  is  only  to  be  deplored  ;  ' '  for  it  would  necessarily  be 
followed  by  shallowness  on  the  side  of  the  applied  sciences,  and  by  isolation  on  the 
part  of  pure  mathematics."  A  comparison  of  the  relative  fruitfulness  of  the  mathe- 
matics of  the  eighteenth  century,  which  was  developed  almost  wholly  in  connexion 
with  practical  problems,  with  that  of  the  nineteenth,  will  strengthen  this  view. 
Still,  Professor  Klein  requests  that  his  remarks  be  not  interpreted  as  in  any  way 
prejudicial  to  the  cultivation  of  mathematics  as  a  purely  disciplinary,  abstract  sci- 
ence having  ends  in  itself.  It  may  be  interesting  to  our  readers  to  know  that  Pro- 
fessor Klein  recommends  Kiepert's  new  edition  (the  sixth)  of  Stegemann's  text-book 
of  the  Differential  and  Integral  Calculus  *  as  the  best  work  for  beginners  ;  and  that 
he  regards  the  second  edition  of  Jordan's  Cottrs  d"1  analyse  as  marked  by  too  much 
refinement  in  the  laying  of  the  foundations  of  the  calculus  to  be  placed  in  the  hands 
of  a  beginner,  although  for  professional  mathematicians  works  like  Jordan's  are  in- 
dispensable. 

Lecture  VII  treats  of  "The  Transcendency  of  the  numbers  e  and  TT,"  of  Her- 
mite  and  Lindemann's  investigations,  with  which  the  readers  of  The  Monist  are 
familiar  (See  The  Monist,  Vol.  I,  No.  2,  p.  227).  Lecture  VIII  treats  of  "Ideal 
Numbers,"  where  elementary  geometrical  interpretations  of  binary  algebraical  forms 
by  means  of  line-lattices,  point-lattices,  etc.,  are  given.  Lecture  IX  treats  of  "The 
Solution  of  Higher  Algebraic  Equations  ";  Lecture  X  of  "  Some  Recent  Advances 
in  Hyperelliptic  and  Abelian  Functions";  Lecture  XI  of  "  The  Most  Recent  Re- 
searches in  Non-Euclidean  Geometry."  Lecture  XII  is  entitled  "The  Study  of 
Mathematics  at  Gottingen  ";  and  as  Professor  Klein's  Gottingen  lectures  are  of  spe- 

*  Grundriss  der  Differential-  und  Integral-Rechnung,  Hannover  :  Helwing.     1892. 


BOOK  REVIEWS.  471 

cial  interest  to  American  students  we  shall  quote  here  a  statement  in  connexion  with 
American  students  to  which  Professor  Klein  wishes  the  widest  publicity  to  be  given  : 

"  It  frequently  happens  at  Gottingen,  and  probably  at  other  German  universi- 
' '  ties  as  well,  that  American  students  desire  to  take  the  higher  courses  when  their 
"preparation  is  entirely  inadequate  for  such  work.  A  student  having  nothing  but 
' '  an  elementary  knowledge  of  the  differential  and  integral  calculus,  usually  coupled 
"with  hardly  a  moderate  familiarity  with  the  German  language,  makes  a  decided 
"  mistake  in  attempting  to  attend  my  advanced  lectures.  If  he  comes  to  Gottingen 
"with  such  a  preparation  (or,  rather,  the  lack  of  it),  he  may,  of  course,  enter  the 
"  more  elementary  courses  offered  at  our  university;  but  this  is  generally  not  the 
"  object  of  his  coming.  Would  he  not  do  better  to  spend  first  a  year  or  two  in  one 
"of  the  larger  American  universities  ?  Here  he  would  find  more  readily  the  tran- 
"  sition  to  specialised  studies,  and  might,  at  the  same  time,  arrive  at  a  clearer  judg- 
"  ment  of  his  own  mathematical  ability;  this  would  save  him  from  the  severe  dis- 
" appointment  that  might  result  from  his  going  to  Germany." 

The  spirit  of  these  colloquia  make  up  somewhat  for  their  incompleteness.  It 
would  seem  as  if  most  of  the  hearers  were  quondam  students  of  Professor  Klein,  as 
his  attitude  and  tone  is  that  of  an  old  teacher.  T.  J.  McC. 

A  HISTORY  OF  PHILOSOPHY,  With  Especial  Reference  to  the  Formation  and  De- 
velopment of  Its  Problems  and  Conceptions.  By  Dr.  W.  Windelband.  Au- 
thorised translation  by  James  H.  Tttfts,  Ph.  D.  New  York  and  London  : 
Macmillan  &  Co.  1893.  Pp.  640.  Price  $5.00. 

There  could  be  no  question  of  the  necessity  of  a  translation  of  Dr.  Windelband's 
"History  of  Philosophy."  The  work,  which  appeared  as  recently  as  1891,  met  with 
a  very  favorable  reception  in  Europe,  and  possesses  many  excellences  by  which  it 
may  be  favorably  compared  with  the  other  standard  text-books  upon  this  subject. 
It  is  not  a  mechanical  re-elaboration  of  the  subject-matter  of  the  history  of  philosophy, 
but  is  based  upon  many  new  commendable  points  of  view,  both  of  form  and  concep- 
tion. As  distinguished  from  most  other  manuals  of  this  subject,  it  gives  little  space  to 
biographical  and  bibliographical  details,  but  devotes  the  main  part  of  its  expositions  to 
the  presentation  of  the  motives  under  which  our  notions  of  the  universe  and  of  life 
have  been  developed.  This  excellence  of  form  has  been  enhanced  by  the  typograph- 
ical execution  of  the  translated  work,  where  the  matter  is  so  arranged  that  the  stu- 
dent has  every  advantage  that  mechanical  means  can  supply,  among  which  we  must 
not  omit  to  notice  a  good  index. 

If  the  reader  of  this  volume  is  disappointed  in  some  respects,  (though  there  are 
as  many  counter-aspects  in  which  he  will  be  pleased,)  his  disappointment  will  spring 
from  reasons  which  the  author  well  defends.  Little  emphasis  has  been  placed  upon 
the  individuality  of  thinkers,  and  we  miss  that  inspiration  which  always  attaches 
itself  to  the  activities  of  persons.  It  is  what  the  Germans  call  a  "scientific"  expo- 
sition, and  we  may  also  say  it  is  an  academical  one.  This  characteristic  point  of 


472 


THE  MONIST. 


view  of  the  work  will  explain  the  severe  criticism  which  Dr.  Windelband  makes  of 
books  like  Lewes's  "  History  of  Philosophy,  "  and  also  of  works  of  the  stripe  of 
Diihring's.*  All  is  presented  under  the  point  of  view  of  development,  and  not  under 
that  of  the  individual  thinkers.  A  quotation  will  suffice  to  characterise  Dr.  Windel- 
band's  idea. 

"Before  all  else  the  decisive  question  is  :  what  has  yielded  a  contribution  to 
"  the  development  of  man's  conception  of  the  universe  and  estimate  of  life  ?  In  the 
"history  of  philosophy  those  structures  of  thought  are  the  objects  of  study  which 
"  have  maintained  themselves  permanent  and  living  as  forms  of  apprehension  and 
"norms  of  judgment,  and  in  which  the  abiding  inner  structure  of  the  human  mind 
"  has  thus  come  to  clear  recognition.  This  is  then  the  standard,  according  to  which 
'  '  alone  we  can  then  decide  also  which  among  the  doctrines  of  the  philosophers  — 
'  '  concerning,  as  they  often  do,  so  many  various  things  —  are  to  be  regarded  as  prop- 
"erly  philosophical,  and  which,  on  the  other  hand,  are  to  be  excluded  from  thehis- 
"  tory  of  philosophy.  Investigation  of  the  sources  has  of  course  the  duty  of  gather- 
'  '  ing  carefully  and  completely  all  the  doctrines  of  philosophers,  and  so  of  affording 
"  all  the  material  for  explaining  their  genesis,  whether  from  their  logical  content,  or 
"from  the  history  of  civilisation,  or  from  psychological  grounds  ;  but  the  purpose 
"of  this  laborious  work  is  yet  only  this,  that  the  philosophically  indifferent  may  be 
"ultimately  recognised  as  such,  and  the  ballast  then  thrown  overboard.  It  is  espe- 
"  cially  true  that  this  point  of  view  must  essentially  determine  selection  and  presen- 
'  '  tation  of  material  in  a  text-book,  which  is  not  to  give  the  investigation  itself,  but 
"  to  gather  up  its  results." 

Little  need  be  said  upon  this  excellent  conception  of  the  History  of  Philosophy 
which  entirely  harmonises  with  the  spirit  of  modern  methods  of  instruction.  The 
translation  appears  to  be  in  every  respect  a  faithful  and  painstaking  one.  No  one  who 
has  not  done  such  work  can  be  aware  of  the  difficulties  which  it  presents.  As  the  trans- 
lator confesses,  his  success  has  been  an  unequal  one.  And  whilst  there  are  some- 
passages  which  are  very  idiomatically  and  smoothly  rendered,  there  are  others  which 
bear  the  marks  of  a  too  close  and  stilted  adherence  to  the  original,  especially  in  the 
rendering  of  technical  terms  which  the  Germans  multiply  beyond  all  reasonable 
limit  in  their  works.  The  translator  has  added  to  the  bibliographical  lists  some 
English  and  American  works  which  will  be  of  help  to  the  student,  who  upon  the 
whole,  we  think,  will  find  Dr.  Windelband's  work  very  serviceable. 


GRUNDZUGE  DER  PHYSIOLOGISCHEN  PSYCHOLOGIE.  By  Wilhelm  Wundt.  Vol  II.  Leip- 

sic  :  Wilhelm  Engelmann.      1893.     Pp.  684. 

Shortly  after  the  appearance  of  the  first  volume  of  the  fourth  edition  of  Wundt's 
"Grundziige  der  physiologischen  Psychologic,"  we  receive  the  second.     This  book 

*  By  the  way,  on  page  17,  foot-note,  Duhring's  Christian  name  is  given  as  "  Ed."  but  should  be 
Eugen.  This  instructive  and  versatile  philosopher,  we  regret  to  say,  is  also  classified  on  page 
630  as  a  "side  phenomenon"  along  with  Hermes,  Bolzano,  Guenther,  and  Rosenkrantz. 


BOOK  REVIEWS.  473 

has  acquired  the  rank  of  a  standard  work  of  reference  on  this  subject,  and  is  too 
well  known  to  need  here  a  detailed  statement  of  its  methods  and  character.  Like  all 
Wundt's  works,  it  is  encyclopaedic  in  character,  and  treats  fully  of  the  various  exten- 
sions of  psychological  science.  Since  the  appearance  of  the  first  edition  of  the  work 
in  1874,  wonderful  progress  has  been  made  in  psychology,  and  even  during  the  in- 
terval which  has  elapsed  between  the  third  and  the  fourth  editions,  many  changes 
have  been  wrought  and  many  new  investigations  undertaken.  Consequently,  the 
present  edition  is  much  enlarged,  and  to  give  the  reader  some  idea  of  how  great  the 
augmentations  have  been  we  will  state  that  while  the  second  volume  of  the  second 
edition  contained  but  464  pages,  this,  the  second  volume  of  the  fourth  edition,  con- 
tains 684  pages.  This  increase  in  size  is  greatly  due  to  the  fact  that  since  that  time 
psychology  has  developed  methods  of  its  own,  and  perfected  technical  means  of  in- 
vestigation which  needed  to  be  explained.  Readers  will  find  in  Wundt's  work  full 
descriptions  of  all  these  new  methods  and  instruments,  and  in  this  respect  may 
safely  rely  upon  the  treatise  as  the  best  Gesammttractat  which  exists.  //K/O/C. 

STUDIES   FROM   THE  YALE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  LABORATORY.     Edited  by  Edward  W. 

Scripture,  Ph.  D.,  Instructor  in  Experimental  Psychology.   1892-1893.   New 

Haven,  Conn. :  Yale  University. 

These  studies  comprise  the  fruits  of  the  first  year's  activity  of  the  Yale  College 
Psychological  Laboratory.  The  monographs  which  the  publication  contains  are  : 
"Investigations  in  reaction-time  and  attention,"  by  C.  B.  Bliss,  Ph.  D.  ;  "On 
monocular  accommodation-time,"  by  C.  E.  Seashore  ;  "  On  the  relation  of  the  re- 
action-time to  variations  in  intensity  and  pitch  of  the  stimulus,"  by  M.  D.  Slattery, 
M.  D.;  "Experiments  on  the  musical  sensitiveness  of  school-children,"  by  J.  A. 
Gilbert;  "A  new  reaction-key  and  the  time  of  voluntary  movement,"  by  E.  W. 
Scripture  and  John  M.  Moore  :  "  Drawing  a  straight  line  ;  a  study  in  experimental 
didactics,"  by  E.  W.  Scripture  and  C.  S.  Lyman ;  "Some  new  psychological  ap- 
paratus," by  E.  W.  Scripture.  The  experiments  bear  the  marks  of  very  careful 
work  and  are  elaborately  executed.  Descriptions  of  new  psychological  apparatus 
are  also  included  in  the  volume.  pcp/c. 

SOME  LIGHTS  OF  SCIENCE  ON  THE  FAITH.  Eight  Lectures  Preached  Before  the 
University  of  Oxford  in  the  Year  1892,  on  the  Foundation  of  the  late  Rev. 
John  Bampton,  M.A.,  Canon  of  Salisbury.  By  Alfred  Barry,  D.D.,  D.C.L., 
Canon  of  Windsor,  Late  Primate  of  Australia.  London  and  New  York : 
Longmans,  Green,  &  Co.  1892. 

The  character  of  this  work  may  be  collected  from  the  restrictions  set  forth  in 
the  following  excerpt  from  Canon  Bampton's  will,  made  to  provide  for  the  endow- 
ment of  eight  Divinity  Lecture  Sermons  to  be  given  yearly  at  St.  Mary's  in  Oxford 
' '  I  direct  and  appoint  that  the  eight  Divinity  Lecture  Sermons  shall  be  preached 
"upon  either  of  the  following  Subjects — to  confirm  and  establish  the  Christian 
"Faith,  and  to  confute  all  heretics  and  schismatics — upon  the  divine  authority  of 


474      '  THE  MONIST. 

'  '  the  holy  Scriptures  —  upon  the  authority  of  the  writings  of  the  primitive  Fathers, 
"as  to  the  faith  and  practice  of  the  primitive  Church  —  upon  the  Divinity  of  our 
"  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ  —  upon  the  Divinity  of  the  Holy  Ghost  —  upon  the 
'  articles  of  the  Christian  Faith,  as  comprehended  in  the  Apostles'  and  Nicene  Creed." 

The  lectures  embody  an  attempt  '  '  to  take  some  general  view  of  the  present  re- 
lation of  Science  in  its  largest  sense  to  the  Christian  Faith  ;  as  illustrated  by  exam- 
ples of  its  bearing,  confirmatory,  elucidatory,  or  critical,  on  the  substance  of  the 
Creed  of  Christendom."  The  author  is  inclined  to  a  broad  optimism  on  the  subject 
of  the  reconciliation  of  science  and  religion,  which,  though  seeing  difficulties,  yet 
sees,  or  trusts  to  see,  through  them.  Science,  Dr.  Barry  thinks,  is  growing  more 
and  more  alive  to  the  need  of  correlating  its  special  developments  in  some  large 
philosophy  of  Being,  and  is  showing  an  inclination  to  acknowledge  that  the  moral 
insight  of  the  soul  is  a  co-ordinate  function  with  purely  intellectual  research  in  dis- 
covering the  inner  secret  of  that  philosophy  ;  while  it  is  also  deeply  sensible  that 
the  search  necessarily  brings  us  into  the  presence  of  mystery,  and  forces  upon  us 
the  alternative  of  Agnosticism  or  Faith.  The  latter  alternative  is  the  one  for  which 
Dr.  Barry  contends.  The  author  sets  up  a  "  Christian  theory  of  knowledge."  The 
function  of  science  is  the  discovery  of  law.  And  law  (this  must  be  pondered)  is  that 
which  leads  to  Christ.  "The  law  was  our  school-master  to  bring  us  to  Christ,  that 
we  may  be  justified  by  faith."  (Gal.  iii,  24.)  Why  the  discovery  of  law  (science) 
should  lead  to  Christ  is  stated  in  some  such  sentences  as  this  :  '  '  We  believe  that  the 
'  '  Living  God,  who  is  Power,  Wisdom,  Righteousness,  Love,  has  revealed  Himself 
"to  His  creatures,  and  that  this  Revelation  is  perfected  [italics  are  ours]  in  the 
"Lord  Jesus  Christ." 

The  purpose  of  all  knowledge,  or  science,  thus,  is  theology,  which,  unquestion- 
ably, is  a  true  doctrine,  and  philosophically  sound,  provided  we  accept  the  theology 
which  science  leads  to  and  do  not  lead  science  to  the  theology  which  we  accept.  In 
this  latter  sense  Dr.  Barry's  work  is  strictly  scientific,  as  may  be  gathered  from  the 
fact  that  he  accepts  literally  the  miracles  of  the  New  Testament,  in  the  very  teeth 
of  what  science,  i.  e.  theology,  says. 

Christian  thinkers  who  are  inclined  to  literalism,  will  find  a  variety  of  new 
forms  of  argument,  well  supporting  their  position,  in  this  work,  which,  if  we  except 
the  technical  meanings,  with  which  words  of  ordinary  signification  are  endowed  —  a 
characteristic  of  theologians  —  is  written  in  a  clear  and  forcible  style  and  in  a  pro- 
foundly religious  spirit.  In  a  mechanical  and  typographical  point  of  view  the  work 
is  irreproachable. 


PRINCIPLES  OF  POLITICAL  ECONOMY.     By  J.  Shield  Nicholson,  M.  A.,  Professor  of 
Political  Economy  in  the  University  of  Edinburgh.     New  York  :  Macmillan 
&  Co.     1893.     Pp.  434.     Price  $3.00. 
This  is  a  new  book,  and  therein  lies  much  of  its  value.     The  author  of  it  had 

for  his  instruction  all  the  authorities  that  preceded  him,  their  precepts,  maxims, 


BOOK  REVIEWS.  475 

reasons,  and  conclusions.  In  addition  to  that,  he  had  before  him  all  the  latest  ex- 
periments and  facts  that  contradict  the  "  theories"  or  prove  them.  As  a  teacher  of 
political  economy  in  a  great  university  he  has  been  compelled  to  study  the  science 
well.  Those  who  agree  with  him  will  find  in  this  book  additional  reasons  for  their 
faith,  and  those  who  differ  from  him  in  opinion  will  find  good  mental  exercise  in 
refuting  his  argument.  As  he  remarks  in  his  Introduction,  "  the  attention  which 
has  recently  been  bestowed  upon  economic  history,  as  will  be  shown  by  numerous 
examples  in  this  work,  has  led  to  important  modifications  of  previously  accepted 
theories." 

In  this  work  Professor  Nicholson  explains  the  principles  of  political  economy  in 
their  application  to  Land,  Labor,  Wages,  Capital,  Rent,  and  all  the  other  subdivi- 
sions of  the  science  in  language  easy  to  understand,  and  this  is  a  great  merit  in  a 
treatise  on  political  economy.  The  comparison  of  principles  is  admirably  made, 
and  the  illustrations  of  their  practical  results  drawn  from  centuries  of  history  are 
full  of  information.  How  far  those  principles  are  sound,  or  in  harmony  with  one 
another  it  is  for  the  reader  to  say.  Enough  that  the  principles  are  there. 

The  principles  of  physical  science  and  of  moral  science  are  absolute,  but  not 
so  the  political  or  economic  sciences  except  when  they  come  within  the  domain  of 
ethics  or  mathematics.  The  "laws"  of  political  economy  are  full  of  implied  pro- 
visos and  exceptions  growing  out  of  artificial  and  accidental  conditions.  For  instance, 
Professor  Nicholson  confidently  says,  ' '  To  assert  that  successive  issues  of  incon- 
vertible paper,  other  things  remaining  the  same,  will  lead  to  an  inflation  of  prices, 
is  as  true  as  to  say  that  successive  applications  of  heat  will  expand  metals."  In  that 
form  the  statement  is  true,  but  many  qualifications  lie  concealed  in  the  proviso 
"other  things  remaining  the  same."  It  all  depends  upon  the  control  the  seller  has 
over  wares.  The  merchant  can  raise  his  prices  according  to  the  expansion  of  the 
currency,  but  the  man  who  sells  his  labor  must  wait  a  long  time  before  his  wages 
will  rise  in  proportion  to  the  inflation  of  the  currency  in  which  they  are  paid.  Pro- 
fessor Nicholson's  book  is  valuable,  not  only  for  the  manner  in  which  it  explains 
the  principles  of  political  economy,  but  also  for  the  historical  information  it  con- 
tains. M.  M.  T. 

UEBER  DIE  GEWISSHEIT  DES  ALLGEMEINEN.  Vortrag  gehalten  in  der  Philosophi- 
schen  Gesellschaft  zu  Berlin.  By  Dr.  A.  Von  Heydebreck.  Leipsic  :  C.  E 
M.  Pfeffer.  1893. 

The  author  bases  the  certainty  of  formal  truth,  such  as  that  contained  in  the 
formula  twice  two  is  four,  on  the  impossibility  of  really  thinking  this  process  differ- 
ently. All  different  thinking  of  this  process,  for  example,  twice  two  is  five,  is  not  a 
real  thinking  of  the  process,  but  an  arbitrary  statement  of  a  different  process  which 
we  do  not  think  but  only  postulate.  The  universality  of  this  truth,  that  is,  its  ne- 
cessity in  the  minds  of  all  thinking  subjects,  is  founded  on  a  similar  argument 
namely,  that  any  thinking  of  this  process,  by  other  individuals,  which  yields  a  dif- 


47^  THE  MONIST. 

ferent  result,  is  not  a  thinking  of  the  process  in  question  but  of  a  different  process. 
The  author  contends  that  the  facts  of  consciousness  are  the  sole  ultimate  data  for  in- 
vestigations of  formal  truth,  and  that  the  help  of  empiricism  in  the  solution  of  these 
problems  is,  as  a  matter  of  principle,  to  be  rejected. 


DER  MODERNE  MENSCH.     Versuche  iiber  Lebensfiihrung.     By  B.  Carneri.     Third 

Edition.     Bonn  :  Emil  Strauss.      1893. 

Our  readers  will  find  a  somewhat  detailed  review  of  this  little  book  of  Mr. 
Carneri's  in  Vol.  I,  No.  4,  of  The  Monist,  page  607.  It  has  now  reached  its  third 
edition,  and  has  assumed  a  dress  which  is  in  perfect  keeping  with  the  beauty  and 
simplicity  of  its  precepts.  We  know  of  few  works  which  offer  so  much  ethical  food, 
in  so  sound  and  palatable  a  form. 


IL  ROMANZO  DI  UN  DELINQUENTS  NATO.  By  A.  G.  Bianchi.  German  Translation. 
Berlin  :  Alfred  Fried's  Company. 

This  "  Romance  of  a  Born  Criminal,"  a  German  translation  of  which  has  just 
appeared,  is  a  practical  exemplification  of  Lombroso's  theory  of  criminology,  writ- 
ten not  by  Bianchi,  whose  name  appears  on  the  title-page,  but  by  a  real  criminal, 
Antonio  M  .....  now  serving  a  term  of  sixteen  years  in  an  Italian  prison  for  at- 
tempted murder.  The  criminal's  real  name  is  withheld  out  of  regard  for  his  family. 

It  is  a  remarkable  work  ;  and  as  Antonio  M's  list  of  crimes  is  a  long  one,  his 
autobiography  may  be  fairly  said  to  be  the  product  of  the  pen  of  one  who  is  a  per- 
fect embodiment  of  Lombroso's  theories.  Despite  a  very  defective  education,  the 
author  frequently  discovers  high  poetical  and  literary  endowments,  so  that  Bianchi 
could  well  write  of  him  :  "If  he  had  had  the  opportunities  of  an  education  he 
would  certainly  take  a  place  by  the  side  of  many  of  our  contemporary  writers."  The 
impression  of  the  work  is  augmented  when  we  find  in  this  "  document  hurnain,"  as 
Bianchi  calls  it,  or  rather  in  this  criminal  soul,  traces  of  a  genuine  trust  in  God  and 
a  clearly  marked  mysticism.  Here  we  find  well  portrayed  that  want  of  capacity  of 
adaptation  which  Nordau  speaks  of,  and  also  the  same  "descants  on  virtue  and 
honor,  patience  and  humility,"  that  Nordau  indicates.  This  criminal  himself  is 
not  to  blame  for  the  "misfortunes"  that  have  overtaken  him,  but  the  external 
world  ;  his  crimes  are  his  fate  ;  personally,  he  always  remains  in  the  path  of  virtue. 
He  sets  himself  up  —  this  is  the  purpose  of  his  biography  —  as  a  model  for  his  little 
son  Francesco.  "Learn  from  me  how  to  be  a  man  ;  learn  how  to  suffer  without 
complaining,  and  to  direct  thy  steps  toward  the  good,  the  beautiful,  and  the  noble." 

T/c. 

DER  VERBRECHER  IN  ANTHROPOLOGISCHER  BEZIEHUNG.     By  Dr.  A.  Bdhr.     Leip- 

sic  :  Georg  Thieme.      1893. 

Although  the  work  just  above  reviewed  is  intended  as  a  practical  corroboration 
of  Lombroso's  doctrines  and  is  regarded  by  many  as  an  important  confirmation  of 
the  correctness  of  his  ideas,  it  must  be  acknowledged  that  the  general  tendency  of 


BOOK  REVIEWS.  477 

present  scientific  thought  is  not  to  accept  unqualifiedly  Lombroso's  main  thesis. 
First,  in  his  work  "Crime  and  Its  Causes,"  and  recently  in  an  essay  in  Mind,  Mor- 
rison has  strenuously  combated  Lombroso's  doctrines.  The  writings  of  Kurella, 
which  have  been  mentioned  in  the  German  correspondence  of  previous  numbers  of 
The  Monist,  are  also  on  the  side  of  the  opposition.  So,  also,  V.  Magnan,  whose 
lectures  on  psychiatry  have  been  recently  reproduced  in  German  by  P.  F.  Mobius, 
(Leipsic  :  Georg  Thieme,)  is  inclined  to  qualify  Lombroso's  position,  attributing  to 
the  so-called  signs  of  degeneracy  only  a  subordinate  importance  and  maintaining 
that  they  are  inadequate  for  the  establishment  of  a  type.  Finally,  it  is  the  expressed 
purpose  of  the  author  of  the  present  voluminous  work,  Dr.  A.  Bahr,  Chief  Physician 
at  the  Penitentiary  at  Plotzensee,  to  controvert  in  toto  the  theories  of  Lombroso. 

In  the  first  part  of  his  book,  Bahr  treats  of  the  physical,  and  in  the  second  part, 
of  the  mental  constitution  of  the  criminal,  basing  his  discussions  on  a  long  and 
varied  experience,  and  exhibiting  a  very  extensive  knowledge  of  the  literature  of 
the  subject.  In  fact,  the  reader  is  placed  in  this  book  au  courant  with  all  that  relates 
to  the  history  and  present  state  of  this  question.  Bahr  has  only  words  of  praise  for 
Lombroso's  great  zeal  and  for  the  stimulus  which  has  proceeded  from  his  work ; 
but  to  the  positive  results  of  his  activities  he  is  absolutely  opposed.  For  example, 
he  says  at  the  close  of  the  chapter  on  tattooing  :  ' '  Tattooing  stands  in  no  causal 
connexion  whatsoever  with  atavism,  and  in  much  less  a  degree  with  criminality. 
For  it  appears  among  criminals  solely  in  consequence  of  the  peculiar  character  of 
their  conditions  of  life  and  their  social  environment.  It  cannot  be  regarded  as  a 
sign  of  criminal  tendencies,  so  long  as  countless  good  and  honest  men  exist  who  are 
also  tattooed."  In  the  third  part  of  the  book,  which  treats  of  the  "born  criminal," 
we  read :  "We  certainly  do  not  go  too  far  when  we  deny  absolutely  the  existence 
of  a  criminal  type  in  an  anthropological  sense  ;  such  a  hypothesis  lacks  every  foun- 
dation of  scientific  proof."  Bahr  goes  greatly  into  details  in  his  discussion  of  Lom- 
broso's pet  idea  that  both  in  physical  and  in  mental  respects  atavism  is  the  key  to  the 
mind  of  the  habitual  criminal.  There  is  no  question  but  that  Bahr's  work,  which  is 
not  only  intended  for  physicians,  psychologists,  and  scientists,  but  also  for  the  educated 
lay  public,  will  give  rise  to  much  discussion.  But  it  is  a  question  of  doubt  whether 
the  prophecy  of  Dr.  Derenburg  recently  made  in  the  Berlin  Tageblatt  will  be  real- 
ised, that  Lombroso  and  his  school  will  find  in  the  communications  and  discussions 
of  A.  Bahr  rather  a  confirmation  than  a  refutation  of  their  doctrines.  TK. 


PERIODICALS. 


THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  REVIEW.     VOL.  I.     NO.  i  and  2. 

PRESIDENT'S  ADDRESS  BEFORE  THE  NEW  YORK  MEETING  OF  THE  AMERICAN 
PSYCHOLOGICAL  ASSOCIATION.     By  George  Trumbull  Ladd. — THE  CASE  OF 
JOHN  BUNYAN.  I.    By  Josiah  Royce. — STUDIES  FROM  THE  HARVARD  PSYCHO- 
LOGICAL LABORATORY.  I.  By  Hugo  Miinsterberg. — SHORTER  CONTRIBUTIONS. 
THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  STANDPOINT.  By  George  Stuart  Fullerton. — THE  CASE  OF 
JOHN  BUNYAN    II.     By  Josiah  Royce. — COMMUNITY    AND    ASSOCIATION  OF 
IDEAS  :  A  STATISTICAL  STUDY.     By  Joseph  Jastrow. — REACTION-TIMES  AND 
THE  VELOCITY  OF  THE  NERVOUS  IMPULSE.    Charles  S.  Dolley  and  /.  McKeen 
Cattell.     DISCUSSIONS,  ETC. — (New  York  and  London  :  Macmillan  &  Co.) 
We  are   glad  to  welcome  into  the  field  of  technical  literature  so  promising  a 
periodical  as  The  Psychological  Review.     The  Review  is  edited  by  Prof.  J.  McKeen 
Cattell  of  Columbia  College  and  Prof.  J.  Mark  Baldwin  of  Princeton  University, 
both  of  whom  are  well-known  workers  in  the  psychological  field.     Such  eminent 
writers  as  Alfred  Binet,  John  Dewey,  H.  H.  Donaldson,  G.  S.  Fullerton,  William 
James,  G.  T.  Ladd,  Hugo  Miinsterberg,  M.  Allen  Starr,  Carl  Stumpf,  and  James 
Sully  have  promised  to  contribute,  and  there  is  every  reason  to  suppose  that  the 
new  Review  will  be  thoroughly  representative.     Its  external  dress  is  highly  tasteful. 
We  wish  it  all  success  and  hope  it  will  be  patronised  by  readers  of  The  Monist  who 
are  interested  in  the  more  special  questions  of  psychology. 

MIND.     NEW  SERIES,  No.  9. 

HEGELIANISM  AND  ITS  CRITICS.  By  Prof.  A.  Seth. — IMITATION  :  A  CHAPTER 
IN  THE  NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS.  By  Prof.  J.  Mark  Baldwin. — 
REFLEXIONS  SUGGESTED  BY  PSYCHO-PHYSICAL  MATERIALISM.  By  Prof.  H. 
Laurie. — PROF.  JAMES'S  THEORY  OF  EMOTION.  By  D.  Irons. — DISCUSSIONS, 
ETC.  (London  and  Edinburgh  :  Williams  &  Norgate.) 

Prof.  Andrew  Seth  replies  to  the  articles  of  Professor  Jones,  published  in  pre- 
vious numbers,  in  criticism  of  Professor  Seth's  articles  in  The  Philosophical  RevieTv. 
The  article  contains  some  excellent  comments  on  epistemology. 

Prof.  J.  Mark  Baldwin  gives  us  in  the  same  number  a  good  summary  of  his 
work  Mental  Development  in  the  Child  and  the  Race,  soon  to  be  published  by  Mac- 
millan £  Company.  This  work  will  embody  the  results  of  Professor  Baldwin's  re- 
searches into  child-psychology,  recently  conducted  with  his  own  children,  notes  of 
which  have  been  published  in  the  various  periodicals. 


PERIODICALS.  479 

THE  PHILOSOPHICAL  REVIEW.     Vol.  III.     No.  i. 

KANT'S  THIRD  ANTINOMY.  By  Dr.  W.  T.  Harris. — THE  RELATION  OF  META- 
PHYSICS TO  EPISTEMOLOGY.  By  D.  G.  Ritchie. — GERMAN  KANTIAN  BIBLIOG- 
RAPHY. By  Dr.  Erich  Adickes. — BOOK  REVIEWS.  (Boston,  New  York,  Chi- 
cago :  Ginn  &  Co.) 

In  The  Philosophical  Review,  also  Mr.  D.  G.  Ritchie  criticises  the  positions  of 
Professor  Seth,  who  as  it  is  well  known  argues  for  the  separation  of  the  disciplines 
of  epistemology,  psychology,  logic,  and  so  forth.  Mr.  Ritchie  says  that  epistemol- 
ogy  is  nothing  but  a  part  of  logic,  and  that  it  is  only  because  of  the  wretchedly  lim- 
ited sense  in  which  the  term  "  logic  "  has  come  to  be  used  that  there  is  any  excuse 
for  a  separate  term  for  the  philosophical  investigation  of  the  conditions  of  knowl- 
edge. Every  phase  of  this  discussion  is  interesting. 

THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  PSYCHOLOGY.     Vol.  VI.     No.  2. 

RHYTHM.  By  Thaddeus  L.  Bolton. — MINOR  STUDIES  FROM  THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL 
LABORATORY  OF  CORNELL  UNIVERSITY.  By  E.  B.  Titchener. — AN  EXPERIMEN- 
TAL STUDY  OF  SOME  OF  THE  CONDITIONS  OF  MENTAL  ACTIVITY.  By  John  A. 
Bergstrom. — A  NEW  ILLUSION  FOR  TOUCH  AND  AN  EXPLANATION  FOR  THE 
ILLUSION  OF  DISPLACEMENT  OF  CERTAIN  CROSS  LINES  IN  VISION.  By  F.  B. 
Dresslar. — PSYCHIC  EFFECTS  OF  THE  WEATHER.  By  J.  S.  Lemon. — A  NEW 
AND  SIMPLE  METHOD  FOR  COMPARING  THE  PERCEPTION  OF  RATE  OF  MOVE- 
MENTS IN  THE  DIRECT  AND  INDIRECT  FIELD  OF  VISION.  By  F.  B.  Dresslar 
— PSYCHOLOGICAL  LITERATURE.  (Worcester,  Mass.:  J.  H.  Orpha.) 

THE  NEW  WORLD.    Vol.  II,  No.  8. 

THE  BABYLONIAN  EXILE.  By  Julius  Wellhausen. — THE  PECULIARITIES  OF 
JOHN'S  THEOLOGY.  By  George  B.  Stevens. — PLATO'S  CONCEPTION  OF  THE 
GOOD  LIFE.  By  Bernard  Bosanqtiet. — THE  NEW  SOCIALISM  AND  ECONOMICS. 
By  William  B.  Weeden. — THE  RELIGION  OF  THE  CHINESE  PEOPLE.  By  C. 
De  Harlez. — THE  ETHICS  OF  CREEDS.  By  Alfred  Momerie. — HERESY  IN 
ATHENS  IN  THE  TIME  OF  PLATO.  By  F.  B.  TarbelL — THE  ETHICAL  AND 
RELIGIOUS  IMPORT  OF  IDEALISM.  By  May  Sinclair. — THOROUGHNESS  IN 
THEOLOGY.  By  Richard  A.  Armstrong. — THE  PARLIAMENT  OF  RELIGIONS. 
By  C.  H.  Toy. — BOOK  REVIEWS.  (Boston  :  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co.) 

INTERNATIONAL  JOURNAL  OF  ETHICS.     Vol.  IV.     No.   2. 

THE  RELATION  OF  ETHICS  TO  JURISPRUDENCE.  By  John  Grier  Hibben. — MORAL 
SCIENCE  AND  THE  MORAL  LIFE.  By  /.  S.  Mackenzie. — THE  SOCIAL  MINIS- 
TRY OF  WEALTH.  By  Henry  C.  Adams. — AN  ASPECT  OF  OLD  AGE  PENSIONS. 
By  M.  J.  Farrelly. — ITALY  AND  THE  PAPACY.  By  Raffaele  Mariano. — DIS- 
CUSSIONS.— BOOK  REVIEWS.  (Philadelphia  :  International  Journal  of  Ethics, 
118  S.  Twelfth  Street.) 

VIERTELJAHRSSCHRIFT  FUR  WISSENSCHAFTLICHE  PHILOSOPHIE. 
Vol.  XVIII.     No.  i. 

DAS  ERKENNTNISSTHEORETISCHE  ICH  UNO  DER    NATURLICHE  WfiLTBEGRIFF.       By 

R.  Willy. — ANMERKUNG  zu  DER  VORSTEHENDEN  ABHANDLUNG.     Ay  R.  Ave- 
narius. — EINIGES  ZUR  GRUNDLEGUNG  DER  SITTENLEHRE.     (Second  Article.) 


480  THE    MONIST. 

By  /.  Petzoldt. — WERTHTHEORIE  UND  ETHIK.  (Fifth  Article.)  By  Chr. 
Ehrenfels. — ZUR  FRAGE  UBER  DIE  FREIHEIT  DBS  WILLENS.  (Concluded.) 
By  F.  Swereff.  (Leipsic  :  O.  R.  Reisland.) 

ZEITSCHRIFT  FUR  PSYCHOLOGIE  UND  PHYSIOLOGIE  DER  SINNES- 
ORGANE.     Vol.  VI.     Nos.  4,  5,  and  6. 

EXPERIMENTELLE  BEITRAGE    ZUR  UNTERSUCHUNG    DBS    GEDACHTNISSES.       (Con- 

cluded.)  By  G.  E.  Miiller  and  F.  Schumann. — BEITRAGE  ZUR  THEORIE  DER 
PSYCHISCHEN  ANALYSE.  By  A.  Meinong. 

BEITRAGE  ZUR  THEORIE  DER  PSYCHISCHEN  ANALYSE.  (Concluded.)  By  A. 
Meinong. — DIE  MONOCHROMATISCHEN  ABERRATIONEN  DBS  MENSCHLICHEN 
AUGES.  By  M.  Tscherning — LITTERATURBERICHT.  (Hamburg  and  Leipsic  : 
Leopold  Voss.) 

ZEITSCHRIFT  FUR  PHILOSOPHIE  UND  PHILOSOPHISCHE  KRITIKj 

Vol.  CIII.     Nos.  i  and  2. 
UEBER  DIE  LETZTEN  FRAGEN  DER  ERKENNTNISTHEORIE  UND  DEN  GEGENSATZ 

DBS   TRANSCENDENTALEN    IDEALISMUS    UND  REALISMUS.       (First  Article.)      By 

Dr.  Edm.  Koenig. — DIE  PHILOSOPHISCHEN  SCHRIFTEN  DBS  NIKOLAUS  CUSANUS. 
By  Dr.  Joh.  Uebinger. — UEBER  DEN  BEGRIFF  DER  ERFAHRUNG,  MIT  RUCK- 
SICHT  AUF  HUME  UND  KANT.  By  Robert  Schelhvien, 

FR.  JODL'S  VORTRAG  UBER  DAS  NATURRECHT.  By  Ed.  Holder. — RELIGIONS- 
PHILOSOPHISCHES.  By  Theobald  Ziegler. — ZUR  AESTHETIK  DER  METAPHER. 
By  G.  Kohfeldt. — ZUR  ERINNERUNG  AN  HERMANN  ULRICI.  By  E.  Gruneisen 
(Halle). — RECENSIONEN.  (Leipsic:  C.  E.  M.  Pfeffer.) 

REVUE  PHILOSOPHIQUE.     Vol.  XVIII.     No.  12.     Vol.  XIX.     Nos.  i  and  2. 
LA  LOGIQUE  SOCIALE  DBS  SENTIMENTS.     By  G.  Tarde. — SUR  L'INDETERMINATION 

GEOMETRIQUE  DE  L'UNIVERS.  By  CaltHOn. LfiS  LABORATOIRES  DE  PSYCHOLO- 
GIE EXPERIMENTALE  EN  ALLEMAGNE.  By  V.  Henri. 

L'ABUS  DE  L'INCONNAISSABLE  ET  LA  REACTION  CONTRE  LA  SCIENCE. — II.  LA  PHI- 
LOSOPHIE DE  LA  CONTINGENCE.  By  A.  Fouillee. — OBSERVATIONS  SUR  LA  FAUSSE 
MEMOIRE.  By  Dugas. — JACOBI  ET  LE  SPINOSISME.  By  Levy-Bruhl. 

HISTOIRE  D'UNE  ID£E  FIXE.  By  Janet  (Pierre). — L'INERTIE  MENTALS  ET  LA  LOI 
DU  MOINDRE  EFFORT.  By  G.  Ferrer o.  (Paris  :  Felix  Alcan.) 

Professor  Delboeuf's  articles  on  physical  and  geometric  space,  raising  the  prob- 
lem of  similar  worlds,  (see  the  previous  numbers  of  the  Revue  Philosophiqiie  and 
also  the  last  number  of  The  Monist, )  seem  to  have  attracted  considerable  attention 
among  the  savants  of  Europe.  M.  Delbceuf  received  numerous  private  criticisms 
of  his  position.  Remarks  in  refutation  of  it  appeared  in  Nature  ;  and  in  the  January 
(1894)  number  of  the  Revue  Philosophique  a  rather  lengthy  examination  of  his  thesis 
by  M.  Lechalas  appears,  appended  to  which  is  the  answer  of  Professor  Delboeuf. 
Other  criticisms  may  be  expected  in  subsequent  numbers. 

It  would  seem  from  M.  Henri's  article  on  the  "Laboratories  of  Experimental 
Psychology  in  Germany  "  in  the  December  (1893)  number  of  the  Revue  Philosophique 
that  of  the  thirty  laboratories  of  this  science  which  exist  in  the  world,  sixteen,  or 
more  than  half,  are  American. 


VOL.   IV.  JULY,    1894.  No.  4. 


THE  MONIST. 


THE  IMMORTALITY  THAT  IS  NOW. 

1r  I  MS  said  that  memory  is  life, 

J-    And  that,  though  dead,  men  are  alive  : 
Removed  from  sorrow,  care,  and  strife, 
They  live  because  their  works  survive. 
And  some  find  sweetness  in  the  thought 
That  immortality  is  now  ; 
That  though  our  earthly  parts  are  brought 
To  re-unite  with  all  below, 
The  spirit  and  the  life  yet  live 
In  future  lives  of  all  our  kind, 
And,  acting  still  in  them,  can  give 
Eternal  life  to  every  mind. 

The  web  of  things  on  every  side 

Is  joined  by  lines  we  may  not  see  ; 

And,  great  or  narrow,  small  or  wide, 

What  has  been  governs  what  shall  be. 

No  change  in  childhood's  early  day, 

No  storm  that  raged,  no  thought  that  ran, 

But  leaves  a  track  upon  the  clay 

Which  slowly  hardens  into  man  ; 

And  so,  amid  the  race  of  men, 

No  change  is  lost,  seen  or  unseen  ; 

And  of  the  earth  no  denizen 

Shall  be  as  though  he  had  not  been. 

GEORGE  JOHN  ROMANES. 


GEORGE  JOHN  ROMANES. 

IN  MEMORIAM. 

EORGE  JOHN  ROMANES,  the  great  English  naturalist,  upon 
whom,  it  was  said,  the  mantle  of  Darwin  fell,  died  on  May  23, 
in  the  prime  of  manhood.  We  are  deeply  moved  at  the  sad  news, 
and  feel  his  death  as  our  personal  loss,  for  he  was  not  only  closely 
connected  with  us  but  had  also  repeatedly  expressed  a  strong  sym- 
pathy with  the  aims  of  our  publications.  He  contributed  articles  to 
both  The  Open  Court  and  The  Monist,  partly  in  reply  to  distinguished 
critics  of  his  works,  as  F.  Max  Miiller  and  Alfred  Binet,  partly  as 
the  spirit  prompted  him  to  write.  Also  the  American  editions  of  his 
works  "Darwin  and  After  Darwin"  and  "  Weismannism "  were 
brought  out  by  The  Open  Court  Publishing  Co.  He  cordially  re- 
sponded to  our  call  when  we  asked  his  aid  in  bringing  out  The  Monist, 
and  the  opening  article  of  the  first  number  was  from  his  pen. 

Professor  Romanes  was  one  of  those  rare  combinations  in  whose 
minds  a  deep  religious  sentiment  and  poetical  genius  are  combined 
with  a  powerful  scientific  comprehension.  His  conviction  of  "the 
immortality  that  is  now,"  is  beautifully  expressed  in  the  lines  pub- 
lished on  the  first  page  of  this  number.*  His  faith  was  of  a  peculiar 
compass,  for  his  mind  was  broad  enough  to  harbor,  along  with  a 
purified  Christianity,  a  philosophy  based  upon  a  rigorous  investiga- 
tion of  the  facts  of  nature. 

EDITOR. 

*  They  have  been  selected  from  a  memorial  poem  addressed  to  Charles  Darwin, 
embodied  in  a  volume  printed  for  private  circulation  among  his  friends. 

The  frontispiece  of  the  present  number  is  made  from  a  reduction  of  a  large 
picture  whick  was  added  in  1892  to  the  National  Portrait  Gallery  of  the  British 
Museum. 


THE  NON-EUCLIDEAN  GEOMETRY  INEVITABLE. 

IN  saying  that,  at  a  certain  stage  of  civilisation  or  general  mental 
enlightenment,  the  doctrine  of  the  conservation  of  matter  ap- 
pears of  necessity,  nothing  need  be  maintained  about  the  finality  of 
that  doctrine. 

So  also  in  regard  to  the  conservation  of  energy.  When  general 
science  and  precision  of  measurement  had  reached  a  certain  stage 
of  development,  a  certain  perfection,  this  question  of  the  seeming 
disappearance  of  accurately  estimated  energy  could  no  longer  be 
overlooked.  The  amount  of  conscious  or  unconscious  dodging  re- 
quired to  avoid  this  consideration  becomes  too  laborious,  and  Mayer, 
Colding,  Grove,  Helmholtz,  Joule,  and  a  host  of  others  find  the  doc- 
trine of  the  conservation  of  energy  forced  upon  them. 

Again,  without  considering  as  irreducible  this  foundation-stone 
of  science,  we  can  see  that  it  makes  untenable  the  realistic  material- 
ism for  which  the  brain  secretes  thought  as  the  liver  secretes  bile  ; 
and  equally  untenable  the  Scotch  realistic  dualism  of  an  immaterial 
soul  using  the  brain. 

For  suppose  all  the  natural  forces  of  the  universe  so  constituted 
and  connected  that  one  may  pass  into  another  in  accordance  with 
certain  definite  ratios  of  equivalence,  such  as  Joule's  mechanical 
equivalent  of  heat,  but  that,  so  reckoned,  they  can  neither  be  in- 
creased nor  diminished  as  a  whole,  any  more  than  can  the  finite 
amount  of  matter. 

If,  now,  mind  is  a  piece  of  the  material  world  ;  if  what  we  call 
mental  energy,  while  mental,  is  yet  a  part  of  the  sum  of  physical 
energy,  then  some  of  this  invariable  quantity  of  energy  exists  from 
time  to  time  as  mental  energy,  and  so  we  would  expect  to  be  able  to 


4.84  THE  MONIST. 

say  that  a  certain  amount  of  chemical  energy  disappears,  but  reap- 
pears as  mental  energy,  or  perhaps  disappears  as  mental  energy  but 
reappears  as  mechanical  energy  or  heat.  But  the  absolute  tests  of 
science  would  demonstrate  that  such  is  never  the  case.  No  bit  of 
physical  energy  ever  disappeared  as  physical  energy  to  become  even 
for  an  instant  mental  energy.  There  is  not  a  single  point  in  the 
series  of  changes  which  take  place  in  the  brain  at  which  all  the 
energy  is  not  in  actual  existence  as  physical  energy.  There  is  not 
a  point  where  anything  of  the  nature  of  thought  could  be  inserted 
as  a  possible  link  in  the  chain  of  transformations  of  energy.  Ma- 
terialism and  dualism  are  equally  impossible.  Idealistic  monism 
becomes  inevitable.  Thinking  mathematicians  have  long  known 
that  number  is  wholly  of  human  make,  and  agree  that  the  idea  of 
time  has  no  essential  connexion  with  it.  The  question  of  the  sub- 
jectivity of  space  is  as  natural  as  the  question  of  the  actual  existence 
of  boundaries.  I  was  an  interested  listener  to  a  debate,  between  a 
chemist  and  a  metaphysician,  as  to  the  existence  of  a  boundary  be 
tween  the  black  and  the  white  half  of  a  surface  which  was  before 
them.  The  chemist  said  he  thought  of  the  white  part,  and  then  of 
the  black  part,  but  never  of  anything  between  them.  To  him  the 
idea  of  a  boundary  absolutely  without  any  breadth,  and  belonging 
as  much  to  the  white  as  to  the  black,  appeared  highly  artificial,  and 
utterly  uncalled  for.  To  the  metaphysician  the  common  boundary, 
the  line  between  the  white  and  black,  appeared  more  real  than  the 
colors  it  bounded.  The  line  without  width  was  just  what  his  mind 
took  hold  of,  and  dwelt  upon. 

Is  geometry  then  as  wholly  subjective  as  is  arithmetic  ?  It  has 
been  a  product  of  pure  logic  applied  to  certain  fundamental  proper- 
ties attributed  primarily  to  the  straight  line,  secondarily  to  the  plane, 
circle,  and  sphere.  But  whence  these  properties,  these  lines,  these 
surfaces?  If  we  can  agree  upon  these  will  all  be  settled  ? 

Can  any  one  give  a  descriptive  definition  of  a  straight  line  or  a 
plane?  Euclid's  fourth  definition  is  "A  line  which  lies  evenly  be- 
tween the  points  in  itself  is  a  straight  line."  His  seventh  is  "A 
surface  which  lies  evenly  between  the  straight  lines  in  itself  is  a 
plane." 


THE  NON-EUCLIDEAN  GEOMETRY  INEVITABLE.  485 

I  would  paraphrase  this  :  A  straight  is  a  line  which  looks  the 
same  from  every  point  not  in  it.  A  plane  is  a  surface  which  looks 
the  same  from  every  point  not  in  it.  But  for  the  work  of  demon- 
stration, Euclid  substitutes  for  his  pseudo-description  a  theorem 
"Two  straight  lines  cannot  enclose  a  space."  We  paraphrase  this 
by  saying,  A  straight  is  a  line  determined  by  any  two  points  in  it. 
But  just  here  an  interesting  question  has  suggested  itself  to  my 
mind:  "Does  not  this  modern  paraphrase  fail  to  touch  one  tre- 
mendously important  matter  covered  by  Euclid's  Sixth  Postulate? 
[P.  Tannery  gives  as  Postulate  6  :  "JEt  que  deux  droites  ne  com- 
prennent  pas  d'espace"  (Axiom  12  in  Gregory;  Axiom  9  in  Hei- 
berg).] 

Space  may  be  homogeneous  and  boundless  (though  not  infin- 
itely great),  and  straights  may  be  homogeneous  and  boundless,  and 
look  the  same  from  every  point  not  in  them,  and  each  be  determined 
by  any  two  points  in  it ;  and  yet  each  may  be  finite  and  all  may  be 
equal  in  size.  But  Euclid's  Sixth  Postulate  assumes  in  addition  that 
straights  are  not  finite,  since  if  finite  and  boundless  two  must  recur 
to  any  crossing-point,  and  so  would  "enclose  a  space"  in  Euclid's 
sense.  Did  Euclid  build  so  much  better  than  he  knew  ?  Or  was 
he  conscious  of  that  truth  which  in  modern  times  waited  for  Rie- 
mann,  that  space  may  be  boundless,  yet  finite  in  size  ? 

When  the  French  Revolution  had  beheaded  all  adherence  to 
authority,  when  even  the  years  and  the  months  were  renamed,  in 
the  seance  de  fecole  normale  du  26  pluviose  an  III,  the  celebrated 
Fourier  proposed  new  definitions  of  the  sphere,  plane,  circle,  straight, 
as  foundation  for  a  new  treatment  of  the  beautiful  science  of  space. 

Take  any  two  points  on  any  solid.  Let  one  remain  at  rest  while 
the  solid  moves.  The  other  describes  a  sphere.  Two  spheres  in- 
tersect in  a  circle.  If  the  spheres  are  equal  and  grow,  this  circle 
describes  a  plane.  If  the  spheres  touch  and  one  decreases  as  the 
other  grows,  their  point  of  contact  describes  a  straight. 

Monge,  that  delicate  spirit,  founder  of  the  idea  of  elegance  in 
demonstration,  was  present,  and  suggested  certain  objections  to  the 
views  of  Fourier,  but  neither  seemed  to  suspect  that  these  defini- 


486  THE  MONIST. 

tions,  however  perfect,  conduct  not  to  Euclidean  geometry,  but  to 
pangeometry. 

How  had  Euclid  managed  not  only  to  bury  this  immortal  double- 
ghost  of  his  space,  but  to  conceal  the  grave  for  two  thousand  years? 
Euclid  did  not  try  to  hide  the  non-Euclidean  geometry.  That  was 
done  by  the  superstitious  night  of  the  fanatic  dark  ages,  from  which 
night  we  have  finally  emerged,  to  find  again  what  Euclid  knew. 

I  believe  the  Euclid  of  twenty  centuries  before  the  birth  of 
Gauss  could  still  have  taught  the  Gauss  of  1799.  Let  us  see.  At 
the  end  of  that  year  Gauss  from  Braunschweig  writes  to  Bolyai  in 
Klausenburg  as  follows  : 

' '  I  very  much  regret  that  I  did  not  make  use  of  our  former  proximity  to  find 
out  more  of  your  investigations  in  regard  to  the  first  grounds  of  geometry  ;  I  should 
certainly  thereby  have  spared  myself  much  vain  labor,  and  would  have  become 
more  restful  than  any  one  such  as  I  can  be,  so  long  as,  on  such  a  subject,  there  yet 
remains  so  much  to  be  wished  for.  In  my  own  work  thereon  I  myself  have  ad- 
vanced far  (though  my  other  wholly  heterogeneous  employments  leave  me  little  time 
therefor),  but  the  way,  which  I  have  hit  upon,  leads  not  so  much  to  the  goal  which 
one  wishes,  as  much  more  to  making  doubtful  the  truth  of  geometry.  I  have  hit 
upon  much  which,  with  most,  would  pass  for  a  proof,  but  which  in  my  eyes  proves 
as  good  as  nothing.  For  example,  if  one  could  prove  that  a  rectilineal  triangle  is 
possible  whose  content  may  be  greater  than  any  given  surface,  then  am  I  in  condi- 
tion to  prove  with  perfect  rigor  all  geometry.  Most  would  indeed  let  that  pass  as 
an  axiom  ;  I  not ;  it  might  well  be  possible,  that,  how  far  apart  soever  one  took  the 
three  vertices  of  the  triangle  in  space,  yet  the  content  was  always  under  a  given 
limit.  I  have  more  such  theorems,  but  in  none  do  I  find  anything  satisfying." 

From  this  letter  we  see  that  in  1799  Gauss  was  still  trying  to 
prove  that  Euclid's  is  the  only  non-contradictory  system  of  geom- 
etry, and  that  it  is  the  system  regnant  in  the  external  space  of  our 
physical  experience.  The  first  is  false  ;  the  second  can  never  be 
proven.  For,  strangely  enough,  though  nothing  renders  it  impos- 
sible that  the  space  of  our  physical  experience  may  be  this  very  year 
satisfactorily  shown  to  belong  to  Lobatschewsky  or  to  Riemann,  yet 
the  same  is  not  true  for  Euclid.  To  decide  our  space  is  Loba- 
tschewsky's,  one  need  only  show  a  single  rectilineal  triangle  whose 
angle-sum  measures  less  than  a  straight  angle.  A  single  rectilineal 
triangle  with  angle-sum  greater  than  a  straight  angle  would  give  all 


THE   NON-EUCLIDEAN   GEOMETRY  INEVITABLE.  487 

our  space  to  Riemann.  And  either  of  these  could  be  shown  to  exist 
by  imperfect  measurements,  such  as  human  measurements  must 
always  be.  For  example,  if  our  instruments  for  angular  measure- 
ment could  be  brought  to  measure  an  angle  to  within  one  millionth 
of  a  second,  then  if  the  lack  or  excess  in  the  angle-sum  were  as  great 
as  two  millionths  of  a  second,  we  could  make  certain  its  existence. 

But  to  prove  Euclid's  system,  we  must  show  that  this  angle- 
sum  is  exactly  a  straight  angle,  which  nothing  human  can  ever  do. 
Euclid  himself  tried  his  own  calm,  immortal  genius,  and  the  genius 
of  his  race  for  perfection,  against  this  angle-sum.  The  benign  in- 
tellectual pride  of  the  founder  of  the  mathematical  school  of  the 
greatest  of  universities,  Alexandria,  would  not  let  the  question  cloak 
itself  in  the  obscurities  of  the  infinitely  great  or  the  infinitely  small. 
He  said  to  himself:  "Can  I  prove  this  plain,  straightforward,  sim- 
ple, if  somewhat  inelegant  theorem  :  If  a  straight  line  meeting  two 
straight  lines,  make  those  angles,  which  are  inward  and  upon  the 
same  side  of  it,  less  than  two  right  angles,  the  two  straight  lines 
being  produced  indefinitely  will  meet  each  other  on  the  side  where 
the  angles  are  less  than  two  right  angles."  [Williamson's  transla- 
tion; Postulate  5,  P.  Tannery  and  Heiberg,  Axiom  u  in  Gregory.] 

And  let  not  the  twentieth-century-American,  in  the  insolence  of 
his  newness,  underestimate  the  subtle  power  of  that  old  Greek  mind. 
The  Chicago  Fair  produced  no  Venus  of  Milo.  Euclid's  own  treat- 
ment of  proportion  is  found  as  flawless  in  the  chapter  which  Stolz 
devotes  to  it  in  1885  as  when  through  Newton  it  first  gave  us  our 
present  continuous  number-system. 

But  what  fortune  had  this  genius  in  the  fight  with  its  self-chosen 
simple  theorem  ?  Was  it  found  to  be  deducible  from  all  the  defini- 
tions, and  the  nine  "Common  Notions"  and  the  five  other  Postu- 
lates of  the  immortal  Elements?  Not  so.  But  meantime  Euclid 
'went  ahead  without  it  through  twenty-eight  propositions,  more  than 
half  his  first  book.  But  at  last  came  the  practical  pinch,  then  as 
now  the  triangle's  angle-sum.  He  gets  it  by  his  twenty-ninth  the- 
orem :  "A  straight  falling  upon  two  parallel  straights  makes  the 
alternate  angles  equal."  But  for  the  proof  of  this  he  wants  that 
recalcitrant  proposition  which  has  so  long  been  keeping  him  awake 


488  THE  MONIST. 

nights  and  waking  him  up  mornings.  One  last  struggle,  and  then, 
true  man  of  science,  he  acknowledges  it  indemonstrable,  and  spreads 
it  in  all  its  ugly  length  among  his  postulates. 

But  just  here  the  modern  translators  miss  a  most  charming 
point.  With  inartistic  dullness,  (see,  e.  g.  Todhunter's),  they  cite 
in  proposition  twenty-nine  the  whole  repulsive  Postulate  5.  But 
Euclid's  delicate  genius  revolted  at  the  very  moment  of  transcrip- 
tion, and  what  he  actually  wrote  down  was  something  entirely  dif- 
ferent and  much  more  elegant,  rendered  thus  by  Williamson,  1781  : 
"  those  [straights]  which  are  produced  indefinitely  from  less  than 
two  right  angles  meet." 

The  Greek  who  dared  answer  to  great  King  Ptolemy,  "There 
is  no  royal  road  to  geometry,"  dared  carry  out  for  himself  the  beau- 
tiful system  of  geometry  which  comes  from  the  contradiction  of  his 
indemonstrable  postulate  ;  which  exists  if  there  be  straights  pro- 
duced indefinitely  from  less  than  two  right  angles  yet  nowhere  meet- 
ing. Moreover,  since  Schiaparelli  has  restored  the  astronomical 
system  of  Eudoxus,  and  Hultsch  has  published  the  writings  of  Au- 
tolycus,  we  see  that  Euclid  knew  surface-spherics,  was  familiar  with 
triangles  whose  angle-sum  is  more  than  a  straight  angle. 

Of  how  inevitably  the  three  systems  of  geometry  flow  from  just 
exactly  the  attempt  Euclid  made,  the  attempt  to  demonstrate  his 
postulate  fifth,  we  have  a  most  romantic  example  in  the  work  of  an 
Italian  priest,  Saccheri,  who  died  the  fifth  of  October,  1733.  He 
was  a  Jesuit  of  San  Remo,  who  commenced  to  teach  at  Pavia  in 
1697,  and  died  at  Milan,  where  he  directed  the  Collegio  di  Brera. 
He  studied  Euclid  in  the  edition  of  Clavius,  where  the  fifth  postu- 
late is  given  as  Axiom  13.  Saccheri  says  it  should  not  be  called 
an  axiom,  but  ought  to  be  demonstrated.  He  tries  this  seemingly 
simple  task  ;  but  his  work  on  it  swells  to  a  quarto  book  of  101  pages, 
four  pages  of  index,  and  forty-eight  figures ;  and  with  all  that,  he 
finds  not  a  demonstration  of  the  postulate,  but,  instead,  three  differ- 
ent systems  of  geometry. 

His  first  proposition  is  :  "I.  In  a  quadrilateral  A  B  CD,  right- 
angled  at  A  and  B,  and  with  opposite  sides  A  C,  B  D  equal,  the 
angles  at  C  and  D  are  equal."  Then,  after  three  more  propositions 


THE  NON-EUCLIDEAN  GEOMETRY  INEVITABLE.  489 

and  three  corollaries,  he  says  :  "Definitions.  There  are  three  hy- 
potheses to  distinguish,  according  to  the  nature  of  the  angles  C  and 
D  in  proposition  I  :  hypothesis  anguli  recti,  hypothesis  anguli  obttisi, 
hypothesis  anguli  acuti.'" 

His  propositions  V,  VI,  VII  are,  that  if  either  hypothesis  is 
true  in  a  single  case,  it  is  so  always. 

VIII-IX.  In  a  right-angled  triangle  the  sum  of  the  oblique 
angles  is  equal  to,  greater  than,  or  less  than,  a  right  angle,  accord- 
ing as  the  hypothesis  is  anguli  recti,  anguli  obtusi,  anguli  acuti. 

XI— XII.  In  the  first  two  hypotheses  a  perpendicular  and  an 
oblique  to  the  same  straight  will  meet. 

XIII.      In  these  two  hypotheses   Euclid's  Postulate  5  is  true. 

XV-XVI.  According  as  a  triangle's  angle-sum  is  equal  to, 
greater  than,  or  less  than,  a  straight  angle,  we  have  hypothesis  an- 
guli recti,  obtusi,  acuti. 

XVII.  With  hypothesis  anguli  acuti  we  can  draw  a  perpen- 
dicular and  an  oblique  to  the  same  straight  which  nowhere  meet. 
(Two  solutions  given.) 

Let  this  suffice  as  a  specimen  of  Saccheri's  marvellous  quarto. 
Clifford  loved  the  hypothesis  anguli  obtusi.  That  great  astronomer 
and  geometer  Sir  Robert  Ball  actually  believes  in  it.  But  Saccheri, 
like  our  profound  American  mathematician,  Professor  Oliver  of 
Cornell,  was  powerfully  drawn  to  the  hypothesis  anguli  acuti.  He 
fully  realised  the  momentous  consequences  involved ;  nothing  less 
than  a  new  conception  of  nature,  less  mechanical  than  Newton's, 
and  for  a  Catholic  priest  beyond  question  unorthodox.  "He  con- 
fessed to  a  distracting  heretical  tendency  on  his  part  in  favor  of  the 
hypothesis  anguli  acuti,  a  tendency  against  which,  however,  he  kept 
up  a  perpetual  struggle  {diiiturnum  proeliuni}" 

The  Inquisitor-general  and  the  Archbishop  of  Milan  saw  Sac- 
cheri's book  on  July  13,  1733;  the  Provincial  of  the  Company  of 
Jesus  on  August  16,  1733.  Within  less  than  two  months  Saccheri 
was  dead  and  buried.  Not  so  his  book.  It  was  reviewed  in  the 
"Acta  Eruditorum  "  in  1736.  It  was  probably  in  the  library  at  Got- 
tingen  about  1790-1800,  for  it  is  marked  with  an  asterisk  in  the 
"  Bibliotheca  Mathematica"  of  Murhard.  In  this  work  it  is  signal- 


490 


THE  MONIST. 


ised  (T.  II,  p.  43)  among  the  writings  consecrated  to  the  explica- 
tion, to  the  criticism,  or  to  the  defence  of  Euclid  ("Einleitungs-  und 
Erlauterungsschriften,  auch  Angriffe  und  Vertheidigungen  des  Eukli- 
des").  It  therefore  attained  a  certain  notoriety.  Did  it  escape  the 
notice  of  Gauss?  Jacobi,  writing  to  Legendre,  accuses  Gauss  of 
spreading  a  veil  of  mystery  over  his  work. 

Now,  in  the  generation  just  preceding  Gauss  there  worked  a 
person  so  extraordinary  that  even  Kant  calls  him  "der  unvergleich- 
liche  Mann," — John  Henry  Lambert.  He  was  the  originator  of 
Symbolic  Logic.  He  fully  recognised  that  the  four  algebraic  opera- 
tions, addition,  subtraction,  multiplication,  division,  have  each  an 
analogue  in  logic,  namely,  Zusammensetzung,  Absondcrung,  Bestim- 
mung,  Abstraction,  which  may  be  symbolised  by  -)-,  — ,  X»  -*-*  He 
also  perceived  the  inverse  nature  of  the  second  and  fourth  as  com- 
pared with  the  first  and  third.  He  enunciates  with  perfect  clearness 
the  principal  logical  laws,  such  as  the  commutative  and  the  distrib- 
utive. He  develops  simple  logical  expressions  precisely  as  Boole 
did  later.  He  interpreted  and  represented  hypothetical  propositions 
precisely  as  Boole  did.  In  one  passage  at  least  he  recognised  that 
the  inverse  process,  marked  by  division,  is  an  indeterminate  one. 
Venn  says  :  "To  my  thinking  he  and  Boole  stand  quite  supreme  in 
this  subject  in  the  way  of  originality." 

The  problem  of  the  arithmetical  quadrature  of  the  circle  is  as 
old  as  mathematics.  Lambert  it  was  who  first  proved  the  task  of 
the  TT-computers  endless  by  demonstrating  that  n  is  irrational.  This 
alone  would  have  made  him  immortal.  He  developed  De  Moivre's 
theorems  on  the  trigonometry  of  complex  variables,  and  introduced 
the  hyperbolic  sine  and  cosine,  denoted  by  the  symbols  sink  x,  cosh  x. 
Now,  the  development  of  the  theory  of  complex  variables  is  one  of 
the  chief  claims  of  Gauss. 

In  the  very  short  and  imperfect  sketch  of  Lambert  by  F.  W. 
Cornish  of  Eton  College  inserted  in  the  "Encyclopaedia  Britannica  " 
in  1882  we  read  : 

"In  Bernoulli!  and  Hindenburg's  Magazin  (1787-1788)  he  treats  of  the  roots 
of  equations  and  of  parallel  lines.''1 


THE  NON-EUCLIDEAN  GEOMETRY  INEVITABLE.  4QI 

From  the  deepest  analytical  mind  of  his  generation  that  could 
only  mean  the  non-Euclidean  Geometry.  The  essay,  "Zur  Theo- 
rie  der  Parallellinien,"  was  written  in  September,  1766,  but  first 
published  in  1786  by  F.  Bernouilli  (a  kinsman  of  John  Bernouilli) 
from  the  papers  left  by  Lambert,  and  appears  in  the  Leipziger  Ma- 
gazin  fur  reine  und  angewandte  Mathematik,  herausgegeben  von  J. 
Bernouilli  und  C.  F.  Hindenburg,  erster  Jahrgang,  1786,  Seite  137  ff. 
It  is  so  important  that  the  Leipziger  Gesellschaft  der  Wissenschaf- 
ten  are  about  to  issue  a  reprint  of  it  in  their  Abhandlungen. 

In  this  remarkable  work  Lambert  maintains  : 

1)  The  Parallel-Axiom  needs  a  proof  since  it  does  not  hold  for 
the  geometry  on  a  sphere. 

2)  In  order  to  bring  before  the  perceptive  intuition  a  geometry 
in  which  the  triangle's  angle-sum   is  less  than  two  right  angles,  we 
need  the  help  of  an  " imaginary  sphere." 

3)  In  a  space  in  which  the  triangle's  angle-sum  is  different  from 
two  right  angles,  there  is  an   absolute  measure  [a  natural  unit  for 
length]. 

The  rare  copies  which  exist  of  W.  Bolyai's  "Tentamen  Juven- 
tutem,"  such  as  that  sold  by  Friedlander  in  1884  at  120  marks,  are 
dated  1832-1833.  But  W.  Bolyai,  in  his  "  Kurzer  Grundriss " 
(1851)  speaks  of  it  as  "  einem  lateinischen  Werke  von  1829."  In 
this  "  Latin  work"  he  gives,  attributing  it  to  his  son  John,  the  ex- 
pression for  a  circle  in  terms  of  its  radius  by  means  of  TT,  e,  and  this 
natural  unit. 

In  July,  1831,  Gauss,  in  a  letter  to  Schumacher,  gives  precisely 
this  formula. 

In  1829  Lobatschewsky  published  the  elements  of  his  non- 
Euclidean  geometry  in  the  Kasan  Messenger. 

In  1831  we  see  Schumacher  using  the  hypothesis  "if  the  geom- 
etry of  Euclid  be  not  true,"  and  Gauss  tells  him  later  that  "a  cer- 
tain Schweikardt  has  given  to  this  geometry  the  name  of  astrai 
geometry. " 

In  1846  Gauss  writes  that  he  had  reread  Lobatschewsky's 
"  Geometrische  Untersuchungen,"  and  that  "the  exposition  is  to- 
tally different  from  that  which  I  had  projected." 


492 


THE   MONIST. 


In  this  very  year  Philip  Kelland  began  to  teach  the  non-Euclid 
ean  geometry  to  classes  in  the  University  of  Edinburgh.  In  his 
paper  on  the  subject,  read  December  21,  1863,  before  the  Royal 
Society  of  Edinburgh,  he  says:  "For  the  last  seventeen  years  I 
have  made  it  the  repeated  subject  of  lectures  and  essays  in  my 
class."  Further  on  he  says  : 

"  Some  years  ago  there  appeared  in  Crelle's  Journal  a  notice  of  a  work,  en- 
titled 'Imaginary  or  Impossible  Geometry,'  viz.,  a  discussion  of  the  conclusions 
which  would  follow  from  the  assumption  as  an  axiom  of  the  hypothesis  that  '  the 
three  angles  of  a  triangle  are  together  less  than  two  right  angles.'  I  have  never 
met  with  any  statement  of  the  propositions  which  the  author  deduced  from  this 
hypothesis." 

I  take  these  "some  years  ago"  to  be  less  than  "seventeen 
years,"  and  Kelland  to  be  an  independent  discoverer  of  the  inevi- 
table non-Euclidean  geometry. 

Even  the  newness  of  America  did  not  prevent  our  having  an 
independent  discoverer  of  the  inevitable,  namely,  Prof.  G.  P. 
Young,  the  title  of  whose  paper  is  :  "  The  Relation  Which  Can  Be 
Proved  to  Subsist  Between  the  Area  of  a  Plane  Triangle  and  the 
Sum  of  the  Angles,  on  the  Hypothesis  that  Euclid's  Twelfth  Axiom 
Is  False."  Read  before  the  Canadian  Institute,  February  25,  1860. 
Published  in  the  Canadian  Journal  of  Industry,  Science,  and  Art,  New 
Series,  Vol.  V,  1860,  pp.  341-356.  He  says: 

"  I  propose  to  prove  in  the  present  paper  that  if  Euclid's  Twelfth  Axiom  be 
supposed  to  fail  in  any  case,  a  relation  subsists  between  the  area  of  a  plane  triangle 
and  the  sum  of  the  angles.  Call  the  area  A  and  the  sum  of  the  angles  s  ;  a  right 
angle  being  taken  as  the  unit  of  measure.  Then  A  =  k  (2  — s) ;  k  being  a  constant 
finite  quantity,  that  is,  a  finite  quantity  that  remains  the  same  for  all  triangles. 
This  formula  may  be  considered  as  holding  good,  even  when  Euclid's  Twelfth 
Axiom  is  assumed  to  be  true;  only  k  is,  in  that  case,  infinite." 

J.  C.  Glashan  of  Ottawa,  Canada,  assures  us  that  "this  paper 
was  drawn  up  without  the  slightest  knowledge  whatsoever  that  any- 
thing had  ever  before  been  written  or  spoken  on  the  subject." 

The  proof,  which  is  in  the  style  of  Euclid,  is  thoroughly  ele- 
mentary, even  more  so  perhaps  than  Bolyai's,  and,  like  his,  is  ap- 
plied to  but  two  of  the  three  geometries  of  space  of  constant  curva- 


THE  NON-EUCLIDEAN  GEOMETRY  INEVITABLE.  493 

ture  ;  the  assumption  of  Euclid's  Sixth   Postulate  in  the  very  first 
proposition,  shutting  out  elliptic  geometry.      Omitting  this  proposi 
tion,  the  proof  is  easily  extended  to  pangeometry. 

In  1877  Grassmann  pointed  out  that  his  "Ausdehnungslehre  " 
of  1844  contained  a  complete  foundation  for  an  analytical  develop- 
ment of  non-Euclidean  spaces.  He  gives  as  an  example  the  ' '  spheri- 
cal space  of  Helmholtz."  He  mentions  also  Riemann's  "  Probe- 
vorlesung"  of  1854,  °f  which  Dedekind  thus  describes  the  effect  on 
Gauss  : 

' '  Nun  setzte  ihn  die  Vorlesung,  welche  alle  seine  Erwartungen  iibertraf ,  in  das 
grosste  Erstaunen,  und  auf  dem  Riickwege  aus  der  Facultats-Sitzung  sprach  er  sich 
gegen  Wilhelm  Weber  mit  hochster  Anerkennung  und  mit  einer  bei  ihm  seltenen 
Erregung  iiber  die  Tiefe  der  von  Riemann  vorgetragenen  Gedanken  aus." 

Here  let  us  pause.  Our  thesis  is  more  than  established.  But 
of  the  many  who  have  shown  the  non-Euclidean  geometry  mechani- 
cally inevitable,  let  me  mention  just  one,  that  great  astronomer  and 
geometer,  Sir  Robert  Stawell  Ball,  who  wrote  of  late  : 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you  as  to  the  importance  and  the  interest  of  the  subject. 
The  developments  which  it  suggests  are  truly  astonishing.  It  is  also  noteworthy 
how  many  mathematicians,  approaching  the  subject  from  very  varied  sides,  have 
been  led  to  the  study  of  what  mathematics  would  be  like  without  the  eleventh 
axiom." 

And  now  what  is  the  final  outcome,  judged  from  the  highest 
standpoint,  that  of  a  pure,  fearless  philosophy?  It  is  nothing  less 
than  a  new  freedom  to  explain  and  understand  our  universe  and 
ourselves. 

GEORGE  BRUCE  HALSTED. 
AUSTIN,  TEXAS. 


PROF.  ADOLF  HARNACK  ON  THE  RELIGION  OF 

SCIENCE. 


/^TVHE  Outlook  of  April  28,  1894,  contains  an  article  by  Prof.  Adolf 
-*-  Harnack,  entitled  "Pro  Domo,"  in  which  he  replies  to  a  re- 
view of  his  "Outlines  of  the  History  of  Dogma,"  which  appeared 
under  the  signature  of  Merwin-Marie  Snell  in  The  Monist  for  Jan- 
uary, 1894.  The  Professor  states  that  "the  criticism  in  The  Monist 
gives  a  fairly  detailed  account  of  the  contents  of  the  book,"  but  he 
resents  bitterly  a  few  comments  which  he  understands  to  involve  a 
charge  of  duplicity.  The  reviewer  remarks  that  Professor  Harnack 
reverses  the  pretensions  and  merits  of  most  other  books  on  religious 
history.  They  profess  to  be  impartial,  though  they  are  really  ex 
parte,  while  Professor  Harnack's  work  is  characterised  by  an  obtru- 
sive affectation  of  partisanship  though  in  reality  it  is  perfectly  fair  and 
judicial.  This,  in  Professor  Harnack's  interpretation,  means  "the 
book  is  honest,  the  author  is  dishonest."  Lest  any  injustice  be  done 
to  Professor  Harnack  in  the  columns  of  The  Monist,  I  have  taken  the 
pains  to  investigate  the  case.  As  it  is  natural  that  a  fearless  investi- 
gator of  ecclesiastical  history  who  professes  to  be  a  Christian,  will 
always  by  his  orthodox  brethren  be  accused  of  equivocation  because 
a  faithful  believer  must,  in  their  opinion,  bring  into  captivity  every 
thought,  I  can  understand  the  sensitiveness  of  the  Professor  on  this 
delicate  point,  the  more  so  as  we  learn  from  an  editorial  note  of  the 
same  number  of  the  Outlook  (pp.  737-738)  that  he  is  of  a  "nervous 
temperament,"  but  I  can  assure  him  that  the  reviewer,  whom  I  have 
personally  questioned  on  the  subject,  had  not  the  slightest  intention 
of  throwing  the  least  shadow  of  doubt  upon  his  honesty. 


PROF.    ADOLF  HARNACK  ON  THE   RELIGION   OF  SCIENCE.  495 

Professor  Harnack,  however,  does  not  merely  speak  pro  domo, 
but  also  makes  an  assault  on  the  position  of  The  Monist :  he  not  only 
repudiates  the  supposed  charge  of  hypocrisy  but  retorts  at  the  same 
time  with  an  unwarranted  attack  upon  the  Religion  of  Science.  I 
shall  discuss  his  reply  not  for  the  purpose  of  offsetting  his  pro  domo 
by  a  pro  domo  of  mine,  but  in  order  to  elucidate  the  problem  which 
is  the  common  object  of  our  investigations.  I  should  be  glad  to  drop 
all  personal  matters  and  confine  myself  to  a  brief  exposition  of  Pro- 
fessor Harnack's  theology  in  the  light  of  the  Religion  of  Science,  but 
I  trust  that  a  few  words  of  explanation  will  convince  Professor  Har- 
nack that  the  arguments  which  he  supposes  to  have  determined  the 
judgment  of  his  reviewer  are  inapplicable.  Professor  Harnack  solves 
the  problem  which  presents  itself  to  his  mind,  "  How  did  the  critic 
reach  the  slanderous  accusation?  "  in  the  following  way.  He  says  : 

"  Simply  because  he  is  unable  to  imagine  that  a  man  who  candidly  examines 
history  can  believe  in  the  living  God,  and  find  and  recognise  him  in  Jesus  Christ. 
To  him  such  faith  is  absurd,  and,  hence,  it  appears  inconsistent  with  sound  learn- 
ing. If,  now,  he  finds  in  a  book  sound  learning  and  this  faith,  he  is  obliged  to  con- 
clude that  the  author,  either  in  the  one  respect  or  the  other,  is  a  hypocrite.  But 
since  one  cannot  feign  sound  learning,  it  must  be  that  the  faith  is  feigned.  Tertium 
non  datur." 

Before  I  enter  into  a  discussion  of  the  main  subject,  which  is  a 
comparison  of  Professor  Harnack's  theology  and  the  Religion  of 
Science,  I  wish  to  make  a  few  personal  remarks.  The  reviewer, 
Mr.  Merwin-Marie  Snell,  must  not  be  identified  with  the  editorial 
management  of  The  Monist.  Our  contributors  and  reviewers  are  by 
no  means  (as  Professor  Harnack  apparently  assumes)  expected  to 
represent  the  standpoint  of  the  magazine  ;  they  are  free  men  and  ex- 
press their  private  opinions  under  their  own  signature,  making  the 
editor,  however,  in  so  far  coresponsible  for  what  they  say,  as  he  ac- 
cepts their  articles  for  publication.  Whether  or  not  Mr.  Snell  pro- 
fesses the  Religion  of  Science  is  not  for  me  to  say,  but  judging  from 
a  late  article  of  his  in  the  Non-Sectarian,  I  am  inclined  to  think  that 
however  much  he  may  be  in  sympathy  with  it,  he  does  not  make  it 
his  own  faith.  Mr.  Snell's  position  is  quite  peculiar.  Son  of  a 
Protestant  clergyman,  he  became  a  convert  to  Catholicism  and  was 


40,6  THE  MONIST. 

for  several  years  secretary  to  Bishop  Keane  of  Washington.  He  left 
the  church  about  two  years  ago  and  has  of  late  allied  himself  with  the 
Unitarians  ;  but  while,  in  agreement  with  the  Religion  of  Science,  he 
adopts  the  principle  of  free  investigation,  he  still  cherishes  in  his 
heart  a  peculiar  love  of  Romanism  on  account  of  its  rites  and  institu- 
tions. Professor  Harnack  will  understand  the  review  better  if  he 
considers  the  character  of  his  reviewer.  The  very  passages  of  which 
Professor  Harnack  complains  show  traces  of  Mr.  Snell's  Catholicism 
— not  of  rationalism. 

Mr.  Snell,  like  many  Catholics,  has  a  grudge  against  St.  Augus- 
tine whose  theology  he  regards  as  a  retrogression  and  as  the  basis 
of  obscurantism.  He  believes  that  the  Roman  Church  allows  more 
freedom  than  the  Lutheran  Church  and  attributes  the  narrowness  of 
the  latter  to  the  influence  of  St.  Augustine.  Thus  the  more  he  ad- 
mires the  progressive  spirit  of  Professor  Harnack,  the  more  is  he 
pained  to  find  Professor  Harnack  constantly  singing  the  praises  of 
the  Latin  father.  In  this  sense  Mr.  Snell  says  : 

"  Most  thinking  men  will  not  partake  of  the  Augustinian  and  Evangelical  sym- 
pathies strongly  and  openly  expressed  by  Dr.  Harnack  in  many  places  throughout 
his  book  ;  and  it  is  more  than  questionable  whether  the  Harnack  of  the  closet  is  in 
.accord  with  the  Harnack  of  the  rostrum." 

Mr.  Snell  means  that  Professor  Harnack's  modes  of  thought  are 
anti-Augustinian  while  his  utterances  exhibit  an  undue  overestima- 
tion  of  Augustine.  We  do  not  care  to  decide  between  Mr.  Snell's 
"Catholic"  underestimation  of  St.  Augustine  and  Professor  Har- 
nack's '  <  Evangelical  "  overestimation  ;  we  simply  state  that  (as  the 
context  shows  in  which  this  paragraph  appears)  Professor  Harnack 
has  misinterpreted  the  passage. 

There  is  another  misunderstanding  which  rises  from  the  same 
source.  Professor  Harnack  says  : 

"Luther  did  away  with  the  old  dogmatic  Christianity  and  put  a  new  evangel- 
ical conception  in  its  place.  The  Reformation  is  in  reality  an  exit  of  the  history  of 
dogma."  (P.  556,  Engl.  tr.) 

There  are  few  Lutherans  even  now  who  would  assent  to  Pro- 
fessor Harnack's  conception  of  Lutheranism,  and  I  myself  can  only 
agree  with  Professor  Harnack,  if  he  modifies  this  statement  so  as 


PROF.    ADOLF  HARNACK  ON  THE   RELIGION  OF  SCIENCE.  497 

to  say  that  the  Reformation  introduced  into  the  history  of  the  Church 
an  element  which  in  its  further  evolution  could  not  but  bring  about 
an  abolition  of  dogma.  But  he  must  not  be  blind  to  the  fact  that 
there  is  plenty  of  dogmatism  in  all  the  Lutheran  churches.  That 
Mr.  Snell  resents  Professor  Harnack's  proposition  to  lay  all  the  evils 
of  dogmatism  at  the  door  of  the  Roman  Church  and  claim  an  in- 
demnity for  the  Lutheran  Church,  is  but  natural,  although  he  had 
better  suppressed  the  remark  as  to  his  "suspicion  that  the  history 
of  dogma  in  the  churches  of  the  Reformation  is  excluded  because  it 
is  too  delicate  a  subject  to  be  handled  with  safety  under  the  auspices 
of  the  State  Church  of  Germany."*  The  administration  of  the  State 
Church  of  Prussia  exercises  upon  the  theological  faculties  an  indirect 
but  strong  influence  which  by  no  means  favors  the  spirit  of  free  in- 
quiry. That  under  such  conditions  German  professors  are  careful 
in  their  expressions  to  avoid  all  unnecessary  offence  is  but  a  matter 
of  course.  Professor  Harnack  urges  that  he  personally  is  untram- 
melled, "for,"  says  he,  "no  promise  [to  defend  and  teach  the  Lu- 
theran religion]  was  exacted  from  me  when  I  entered  the  faculty;"f 
and  he  adds,  that  the  provision  of  the  Prussian  State  law  is  "Sci- 
ence and  instruction  in  science  shall  be  unfettered."  As  to  the  latter 
we  know  the  law  and  also  its  execution.  It  is  true  that  the  life,  liv- 
ing, and  personal  liberty  of  a  professor  are  not  endangered,  but  his 
activity  can  be  rendered  uneffective,  he  can  be  spiritually  killed,  he 
can  even  be  urged  to  quit  the  theological  faculty.  I  need  not  men- 
tion instances  for  Professor  Harnack  will  know  them  better  than  I 
do  ;  but  I  know  whereof  I  speak.  There  is  no  use  in  denying  the 
annoyances  to  which  Bible  criticism  is  exposed  in  Germany.  Pro- 
fessor Harnack  himself  had  his  full  share  of  them.  Nor  is  there  any 
reason  for  German  theologians  to  resent  a  public  mention  of  this 

*  Mr.  Snell  should  have  said  either  the  several  "State  Church^  of  Germany," 
or  "  the  State  Church  of  Prussia."  There  is  no  "  State  Church  of  Germany." 

f  (i)  I  understand  this  sentence  to  mean  that  "no  vow  was  ever  exacted  from 
Professor  Harnack."  (2)  We  omit  to  mention  Professor  Harnack's  remark — that 
"the  faculty  is  not  Lutheran,  but  a  Union  of  Lutheran  and  Reformed," — firstly 
because  we  are  at  present  not  concerned  with  the  difference  between  Lutherans  and 
Reformed,  and  secondly  because  the  Union  was  made  under  the  explicit  stipulation 
that  the  confessions  of  both  denominations  should  remain  unaffected. 


498  THE   MONIST. 

calamity,  for  they  cannot  be  blamed  for  the  misapplied  paternalism 
of  the  ecclesiastical  authorities  of-  their  country.  On  the  contrary, 
they  must  the  more  be  honored.  Any  one  familiar  with  the  situation 
will  join  me  in  expressing  my  unreserved  admiration  for  the  man- 
hood of  German  theologians  who,  as  a  fact,  are  unrivalled  in  the 
wide  world  for  their  thoroughness  and  fearlessness.  The  flourishing 
condition  of  German  criticism  under  externally  most  unfavorable  con- 
ditions reminds  one  of  the  palm-tree  which,  when  under  the  pressure 
of  a  heavy  burden,  only  grows  the  statelier  and  nobler.  There  is 
plenty  of  piety  in  England  and  America,  but  where  more  than  in 
Germany  is  piety  closely  allied  with  that  love  of  truth  which  shows 
itself  in  an  undaunted  criticism  even  of  the  venerable  and  dearly 
beloved  sacred  writings  ? 

In  giving  these  explanations,  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  I  should 
have  used  Mr.  Snell's  expressions  or  that  I  make  them  my  own  ;  I 
only  elucidate  their  meaning  and  the  sense  in  which  I  want  them 
to  be  understood.  In  glancing  over  his  remarks  I  find  several  things 
to  which  I  would  take  exception. 

But  now  I  have  to  turn  the  tables  and  ask  Professor  Harnack 
on  what  ground  he  imputes  to  a  man  whose  faith  is  the  Religion  of 
Science  the  narrowness  of  regarding  all  thinkers  of  a  different  stamp 
as  "  fools  or  hypocrites"?  Professor  Harnack  demands  of  a  critic 
"to  make  an  attempt  to  understand  the  author's  meaning  before  he 
tears  him  in  twain."  This  is  good  ethics,  but  does  he  practise  what 
he  preaches?  Confusing  the  reviewer  of  his  book  with  the  editor  of 
The  Monist,  Professor  Harnack  makes  a  sally  at  the  Religion  of  Sci- 
ence. He  says  : 

"I  will  help  my  critic  a  little.  According  to  his  idea — and,  alas!  he  is  sup- 
ported in  this  by  some  Christians,  as  we  shall  see  in  our  second  section — the  Chris- 
tian faith  appeals  to  a  collection  of  ancient  writings,  which  are  held  as  sacred  and 
inerrant,  to  a  mass  of  miracle-narrations,  and  to  a  childish  conception  of  the  uni- 
verse and  of  man.  If,  now,  it  is  proved  that  these  writings  contain  errors,  that  the 
miracle-narrations  are  not  wholly  credible,  and  that  the  universe  is  not  such  as  it 
was  at  one  time  regarded,  then  faith  falls  to  the  ground.  Further,  the  critic  is  of 
the  opinion  that  there  is  a  '  Religion  of  Science, '  which  can  be  deduced  from  an 
observation  of  the  system  of  the  universe  and  of  the  laws  of  motion  ;  and  that  this 
is  the  only  religion.  Finally — and  this  is  his  chief  thought — he  believes  that  all  the 


PROF.    ADOLF  HARNACK  ON  THE   RELIGION  OF  SCIENCE.  499 

phenomena  of  nature  and  of  history  are  to  be.  explained  through  the  '  Evolution  des 
Einen'  (Evolution  of  the  Monad).  I  should  rejoice  if  I  were  mistaken,  but  I  pre- 
sume that  I  am  not. 

"Now,  as  regards  all  these  doctrines,  I  hold  other  views.  I  believe  that  the 
Christian  religion  still  shines  just  as  brightly  as  formerly,  although  its  books  no 
longer  appear  inerrant,  its  miracle-narrations  fall,  and  its  old  cosmology  is  de- 
stroyed. For  the  Gospel — that  is,  the  Christian  religion — has  only  one  aim  :  that 
the  soul  may  find  its  God,  and  cleave  to  him  in  humility  and  love  ;  and  it  promises 
to  those  who  love  Jesus  Christ,  and  follow  him,  that  they  shall find  God.  Further, 
a  "  Religion  of  Science  "  is  to  me  a  wholly  indistinct  conception,  with  which  I  do 
not  know  what  to  do.  I  know  only  of  a  religion  which  gives  a  peace  higher  than 
all  reason,  therefore  also  higher  than  all  science  ;  and  I  know  only  of  a  religion 
which  is  mystically  experienced  by  us,  and  which  receives  its  confirmation,  not  from 
the  course  of  nature,  but  from  conscience  and  history.  Finally,  of  an  'evolution' 
I  also  can  speak  ;  but  I  do  not  pretend  to  have  found  the  unity  of  nature  and  of 
spirit,  of  the  realm  of  gravitation  and  the  realm  of  moral  worth.  I  believe  that 
they  also  have  their  unity  ;  not,  however,  in  an  Unknown,  but  in  the  living  God. 
However,  I  can  make  little  use  of  this  faith  in  the  scientific  investigation  of  nature 
and  history.  Each  of  these  realms  has  its  peculiar  laws.  They  are  deeply  involved 
each  in  the  others  ;  but  of  what  assistance  can  the  science  of  nature  be  to  me,  if  I 
wish  to  find  out  to  what  persons  our  present  humanity  is  most  indebted  for  those 
powers  of  faith  and  conscientiousness,  of  love  and  sacrifice,  of  courage  and  industry, 
and  when  I  reflect  upon  the  question  as  to  how  these  powers  are  constantly  sus- 
tained for  us  ?  The  principle  of  evolution  I  also  seek  to  apply  wherever  its  applica- 
tion seems  to  me  possible  ;  but  1  am  not  able  to  include  personality  and  ethics 
therein,  and  I  am  sure  that  the  mysterious  Being  who  rules  heaven  and  earth  re- 
veals himself  to  us  in  humanity.  Here  he  has  not  left  himself  without  a  witness  ; 
and  from  this  starting-point  I  also  seek  to  understand  Jesus  Christ — the  Son  of  God 
among  the  children  of  God.  By  my  critic  this  is  regarded  as  an  exploded  theory  of 
the  world,  I  believe,  however,  that  it  more  nearly  corresponds  to  the  facts  which 
we  see  about  us  than  does  his.  In  any  case,  his  theory  imposes  a  heavy  penalty 
upon  him — he  is  obliged  to  regard  all  who  believe  in  the  living  God,  and  find  him 
in  history,  as  either  fools  or  hypocrites.  I  am  in  a  more  favorable  position  ;  I 
hold  my  opponent  to  be  neither  a  fool  nor  a  hypocrite,  but  a  misguided  man." 

Professor  Harnack  has  been  bitterly  accused  in  German  theo- 
logical magazines  on  account  of  his  opinion  on  the  Apostolicum. 
He  was  denied  the  right  of  calling  himself  a  Christian,*  so  that  I 

*  It  is  usually  held  that  a  clergyman  whose  world-conception  has  broadened 
under  the  influence  of  science  must  leave  the  church.  We  contend  that  it  is  his 
duty  to  stay.  The  question  is  ventilated  in  an  editorial  of  The  Monist  (Vol.  II.  No. 


5°° 


THE  MON1ST. 


wished  at  the  time  I  could  jump  to  his  assistance  ;  and  now  I  find 
him,  in  whom  I  had  hoped  to  find  an  ally,  in  full  armor  against  me. 

We,  the  editors  of  The  Monist,  are  in  a  similar  predicament  to 
Professor  Harnack.  The  believer  in  the  letter  on  the  one  side  de- 
cries us  as  atheistic,  while  the  iconoclast  on  the  other  side  calls  us 
time-servers,  because  we  continue  to  use  the  words  God  and  reli- 
gion, although  in  a  purified  sense  and  with  a  deeper  meaning. 

I  am  at  a  loss  to  account  for  the  sources  of  Professor  Harnack's 
information  concerning  the  Religion  of  Science.  Mr.  Snell's  review 
contains  no  trace  of  it.  He  mentions  the  Religion  of  Science  once 
in  connexion  with  the  Alexandrian  school,  but  in  an  indifferent  man- 
ner. Professor  Harnack  apparently  opens  a  broadside  fire  upon  the 
idea  of  a  Religion  of  Science  in  general.  But  why  and  for  what 
purpose  ?  He  fights  in  the  dark.  Where  can  he  find  in  any  one  of 
our  publications  such  views  on  Christianity  as  he  here  imputes  to  the 
Religion  of  Science  ?  Let  him  quote  the  passage  in  which  the  Chris- 
tian faith  has  been  said  to  appeal  to  a  childish  conception  of  the  uni- 
verse and  of  man.  The  readers  of  The  Monist  will  know  how  wide 
of  the  mark  Professor  Harnack's  comments  are ;  I  do  not  think  it 
necessary  to  refute  them.*  Be  it  sufficient  here  to  say  that  Religion 
of  Science  is  not  the  name  of  a  sect ;  it  does  not  denote  a  visible 
but  the  invisible  church.  It  characterises  a  certain  religious  atti- 
tude which  may  be  found  among  men  of  various  denominations. 
"Religion  of  Science"  means  Religion  of  Truth,  Truth  being  ascer- 
tainable  according  to  the  methods  of  scientific  inquiry.  Truth  be- 
ing a  much  misapplied  term,  the  word  "science"  has  been  chosen 
to  point  out  without  equivocation  the  path  that  leads  to  truth. 

The  foundation  of  the  Religion  of  Science  is  the  principle  that 
it  is  a  sacred  duty  to  investigate  the  truth  with  the  best  means  at 
our  disposal,  and  when  it  is  ascertained,  to  regulate  our  conduct 

2,  pp.  278-285)  entitled  "The  Clergy's  Duty  of  Allegiance  to  Dogma  and  the  Strug- 
gle Between  World-Conceptions." 

*  The  words  ' '  Evolution  of  the  Monad  ' '  are  apparently  inserted  by  the  trans- 
lator and  must  not  be  charged  to  Professor  Harnack's  account.  I  do  not  know 
where  he  has  found  the  expression  "  Evolution  des  Einen,"  of  which  he  says  "  and 
this  is  his  chief  thought  ";  nor  do  I  know  what  is  objectionable  in  the  phrase.  All 
depends  upon  the  meaning  of  the  word  "  des  Einen." 


PROF.    ADOLF  HARNACK  ON  THE  RELIGION  OF  SCIENCE.  50! 

accordingly.  Truth  is  briefly  a  concise  and  exhaustive  description 
of  fact ;  a  scientific  description  of  facts  is  what  is  commonly  called 
"natural  law,"  and  natural  laws  formulate  the  permanent  in  the 
transient,  the  everlasting  in  the  change,  the  abiding  in  that  which 
passes  away.  An  investigation  into  the  nature  of  natural  laws  shows 
that  they  must  be  all  consistent  with  one  another.  There  is  but  one 
truth,  and  all  various  truths  are  but  so  many  aspects  of  that  one 
truth.  It  has  been  claimed  that  religious  truth  can  stand  in  con- 
tradiction to  scientific  truth,  and  that  religious  truth  is  superra- 
tional.  He  who  ex  principio  uses  a  contradiction  as  the  corner- 
stone of  his  world  conception,  builds  upon  sand.  People  who  can- 
not gain  clearness  of  understanding  naturally  resort  to  such  ideas, 
but  they  ought  to  be  conscious  of  the  fact  that  it  means  a  bank- 
ruptcy of  both  their  religion  and  their  philosophy.  There  is  no 
duality  in  truth.  All  truth  is  sacred,  all  truth  is  divine,  all  truth  is  a 
religious  revelation.  Or,  in  other  words,  science  is  revelation. 

We  do  not  deny  that  the  sacred  canon  of  Christianity  is  a  reve- 
lation ;  we  only  deny  that  it  is  the  only  revelation  or  the  standard  by 
which  all  other  revelations  must  be  measured.  We  reverse  the  old 
order  of  argument ;  we  do  not  say  "Love  thine  enemy"  is  a  bind- 
ing injunction  because  we  read  it  in  the  Gospel,  but  we  say  the 
spirit  of  the  Gospel  is  divine  because  and  to  the  extent  that  it.  contains 
moral  truths  which  are  based  upon  a  broad  sympathy  and  a  profound 
comprehension.  We  must  learn  to  trust  in  truth,  and  we  must  have 
faith  in  truth,  for  faith  in  truth  is  the  only  true  religion  in  the  world. 
If  God  is  not  in  truth,  we  had  better  let  God  go.  If  truth  does  not 
teach  morality,  then  there  is  no  morality.  If  truth  is  unreal,  then 
the  world  ought  not  to  exist  and  life  would  not  be  worth  living. 

What  shall  we  say  of  an  inquirer  into  truth  who  declares  : 

"  I  can  make  little  use  of  this  faith  in  the  scientific  investigation  of  nature  and 
history." 

I  am  grieved  to  say  that  the  sentence  comes  from  the  pen  of 
Professor  Harnack.  Professor  Harnack,  a  leader  among  the  most 
competent,  who  has  so  vigorously  and  boldly  applied  "his  faith  in 
the  scientific  investigation  of  history,"  comes  and  says  he  can  make 
little  use  of  it.  I  fear  to  repeat  Mr.  Snell's  words,  that  it  is  "more 


502  THE    MONIST. 

than  questionable  whether  the  Harnack  of  the  closet  is  in  accord 
with  the  Harnack  of  the  rostrum, "  lest  Professor  Harnack  might  again 
misunderstand  the  meaning  of  the  words.  But  it  seems  to  me  clear 
'  that  Professor  Harnack  in  his  study  follows  the  injunctions  of  the 
Religion  of  Science,  but  when  he  appears  before  the  public  he  de- 
nounces it  as  useless. 

This  is  no  charge  of  hypocrisy,  but  of  inconsistency,  and  I  am 
open  to  conviction.  Truly  Professor  Harnack's  "  sound  learning  is 
not  feigned,"  but  it  is,  by  some  inadvertence,  just  a  little  twisted. 
Professor  Harnack  is  not  clear  concerning  the  philosophical  basis 
of  his  religious  conceptions ;  therefore,  "  the  idea  of  a  Religion  of 
Science  is  to  him  a  wholly  indistinct  conception."  He  lives  up  to 
the  ethics  of  a  religion  of  science  in  the  sanctum  of  his  study,  where 
he  moves  within  the  boundary  lines  of  his  specialty,  but  as  soon  as 
he  enters  the  sanctissimum  of  his  heart  his  faith  in  truth  fails  him, 
and  he  surrenders  every  attempt  to  throw  the  light  of  science  into 
the  wondrous  depths  of  trie  human  soul.  He  says  :  "I  know  only 
of  a  religion  which  is  mystically  experienced  by  us. "  If  Professor 
Harnack  would  but  be  consistent,  he  would  apply  right  here  the 
principle  of  investigation,  and  all  the  clouds  of  his  mysticism  would 
disappear. 

It  is  the  office  of  science,  i.  e.,  of  clearly  presented  truth,  to 
dispel  mysticism  ;  but  understand  me  rightly:  In  saying  this,  I  do 
not  advocate  the  eradication  of  mysticism,  or  mean  to  denounce  it 
as  obscurantism.  Mysticism  is  a  very  important  element  in  the 
structure  of  the  human  soul ;  and  it  is  the  path  to  truth  upon  which 
religion  travels — indeed,  it  is,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  the  only  path  upon 
which  the  religious  evolution  of  mankind  can  take  place.  When 
comparing  science  with  religion,  we  are,  in  consideration  of  the  con- 
servative attitude  of  our  theologians,  inclined  to  say  that  science  is 
in  advance  of  religion.  This  is  true  in  many  respects,  but  not  con- 
cerning the  main  issues  of  religion.  In  the  recognition  of  moral 
truths,  religion  has  anticipated  the  results  of  scientific  inquiry.  The 
great  religious  teachers  of  mankind  have,  with  a  prophetic  insight 
into  the  nature  of  things,  so  to  say,  by  a  religious  instinct,  pro- 
claimed truths  which  the  sages  of  their  times  were  unable  to  resolve 


PROF.    ADOLF  HARNACK  ON  THE  RELIGION  OF  SCIENCE.  503 

or  account  for.  Science  must  catch  up  with  religion  and  must  learn 
to  decipher  the  grand  utterances  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  and  to  do 
this  is  the  sole  object  of  all  theological  scholarship  and  of  the  phi- 
losophy of  religion.  Many  are  diffident  and  say  it  cannot  be  done, 
but  we  say  it  must  be  done  ;  man's  rational  nature  impels  him  to  do 
it  ;  and  it  is  his  highest  duty  to  understand  the  nature  of  his  reli- 
gious ideals. 

The  great  facts  of  history  are  repeated  in  our  daily  experience. 
Who  of  us  has  not,  long  before  his  intelligence  developed  into  full 
maturity,  on  various  occasions  dimly  felt  the  correct  solution  of 
moral  problems?  As  there  is  a  life-preserving  instinct  in  the  world 
of  lower  animals,  so  there  is  a  soul-quickening  moral  instinct  in  man 
which  is  mystically  experienced.  Professor  Harnack  seems  to  be- 
lieve that  our  mystical  experiences  cannot  or  should  not  be  sub- 
jected to  scientific  analysis.  If  this  is  his  position,  we  differ  from 
him  ;  if  not,  how  can  he  arraign  the  Religion  of  Science  as  profit- 
less? 

Professor  Harnack  may  regard  the  Religion  of  Science  as  ration- 
alism ;  and  in  a  certain  sense  it  is  rationalism,  but  in  another  sense  it  is 
not.  It  all  depends  whether  we  mean  by  rationalism  simply  a  free  ex- 
ercise of  man's  reason,  or  that  historical  movement  which  attempted 
in  a  most  prosy  way  to  rationalise  the  religious  traditions  of  Christian- 
ity. On  the  one  hand,  we  do  not  say  that  man  can  be  saved  by  reason 
and  by  reason  alone,  for  man  must  work  out  his  salvation  with  dili- 
gence; he  must  be  active  and  energetic,  and  in  order  to  continue  in 
his  work  he  must  have  the  enthusiasm  of  faith  and  a  holy  zeal  for 
the  cause  of  truth.  Reason  is  only  one  side  of  man's  being,  and  we 
are  not  blind  to  the  existence  and  importance  of  other  sides.  But 
on  the  other  hand  we  say,  Give  unto  reason  what  is  reason's ;  hand 
over  to  rational  inquiry  the  whole  field  of  your  experiences,  external 
as  well  as  internal,  and  investigate  the  bottom  facts  from  which  de- 
velop such  religious  ideas  as  God,  soul,  and  immortality.  There  is 

•* 

truth  in  all  of  them,  and  you  will  find  that  a  real,  thorough  compre- 
hension of  your  religious  notions  will  always  tend  to  deepen  them, 
and  will  show  truth  in  a  higher  significance  and  a  nobler  sublimity. 
For  truth  is  greater  than  all  mythologies. 


504  THE  MONIST. 

Professor  Harnack  has  not  as  yet  found  the  unity  of  nature  and 
spirit,  but  he  believes  in  it;  he  trusts  to  find  it  "not  in  the  Un- 
known, but  in  the  living  God."  Very  good  !  search  for  unity  and 
you  will  find  it — not  in  the  Unknown,*  but  in  the  knowable  realities 
of  life.  The  first  condition,  however,  of  finding  a  unity  of  nature 
and  spirit  is  to  drop  the  antithesis  between  both,  for  spirit  is  natural; 
spirit  is  a  part  of  nature  as  much  as  a  man's  thoughts  are  part  of  the 
man.  Nature  is  the  whole,  and  spirit  is  the  crown  of  nature  ;  it  is 
nature's  divinity,  without  which  the  whole  creation  would  be  a  mean- 
ingless jungle. 

It  is  not  my  intention  to  criticise  Professor  Harnack's  confes- 
sion of  faith,  which  he  calls  "a.  living  faith  in  the  living  God"  (see, 
for  instance,  p.  546).  But  I  cannot  help  criticising  the  form  in 
which  he  states  it.  A  God  who  is  not  a  living  God  is  no  God,  and 
a  faith  that  is  not  a  living  faith,  that  is  to  say,  an  actual  power  in 
man's  soul,  is  no  faith.  What  is  the  use  of  heaping  up  words,  which 
in  their  unnecessary  iteration  make  the  impression  of  contentious 
protestation?  Professor  Harnack  contrasts  the  living  God  with  "the 
philosophical  or  mystical  abstraction  "  (p.  546),  and  calls  the  former 
"  the  revealed,  the  assured,  the  gracious  God,  apprehensible  to  every 
Christian." 

Had  Professor  Harnack  borne  in  mind  the  nature  of  knowledge 
and  the  methods  of  representing  realities  in  thought,  he  would  not 
have  ventured  upon  these  amplifications.  What  is  his  idea  of  man's 
soul  but  an  abstract,  while  the  object  which  the  word  soul  repre- 
sents is  a  living  reality?  All  our  notions  are  abstracts  and  the  idea 
of  God  is  as  much  an  abstract  as  the  terms  matter  and  energy.  Death 
will  lose  most  of  its  horrors  in  the  mind  of  a  thinking  man,  espe- 
cially if  he  is  an  experienced  physician  ;  is  for  that  reason  a  more 
scientific  conception  of  death  less  real  than  the  fright  of  a  panic- 
stricken  crowd?  The  physicist's  definition  of  force  is  not  of  a  paler 
cast  of  thought  than  that  of  the  farmer,  and  the  philosopher's  idea 


*  Professor  Harnack  probably  regards  The  Monist  as  an  agnostic  publication. 
He  is  mistaken.  Professor  Harnack  is  probably  more  agnostic  than  The  Monist, 
for  his  "living  God,"  who  is  not  the  Unknown,  is  later  on  called  "the  mysterious 
Being," 


PROF.    ADOLF   HARNACK  ON   THE  RELIGION  OF  SCIENCE.  505 

of  God  does  not  grow  lifeless  in  the  degree  that  it  becomes  more 
exact.  Professor  Harnack's  expressions  would  pass  unchallenged  in 
a  prayer-meeting  but  are  out  of  place  in  a  scientific  elucidation  where 
they  are  not  only  liable  to  be  misunderstood  as  orthodox  assevera- 
tions, but  are  also  actually  erroneous,  bringing  about  an  antagonism 
between  religious  sentiment  and  the  philosophical  comprehension  of 
religious  ideas  which  does  not  exist.  That  God,  who  in  order  to  be 
and  remain  alive,  must  not  become  philosophical,  is  doomed  before 
the  tribunal  of  scientific  critique. 

The  science  of  nature,  as  a  whole,  and  also  the  various  branches 
of  science,  especially  psychology  and  ethics,  are  of  greater  impor- 
tance to  theology  than  Professor  Harnack  is  aware  of.  He  says  : 

"Of  what  assistance  can  the  science  of  nature  be  to  me,  if  I  wish  to  find  out 
to  what  persons  our  present  humanity  is  most  indebted  for  those  powers  of  faith  and 
conscientiousness  of  love  and  sacrifice,  of  courage  and  industry." 

He  lays  great  stress  upon  the  fact  that  the  Gospel  is  Jesus  Christ 
— a  person.  He  says  in  his  "History  of  Dogma"  (Engl.  tr.  p.  10)  : 

"  It  can  be  shown,  that  everything  that  is  'lofty  and  spiritual '  in  the  Psalms 
and  Prophets,  and  everything  that  had  been  gained  through  the  development  of 
Grecian  ethics,  is  reaffirmed  in  the  plain  and  simple  Gospel ;  but  it  obtained  its 
power  there,  because  it  became  life  and  deed  in  a  Person,  whose  greatness  consists 
also  in  this,  that  he  did  not  remould  his  earthly  environment,  nor  encounter  any 
subsequent  rebuff, — in  other  words,  that  he  did  not  become  entangled  in  his  times." 

Setting  aside  the  question  as  to  the  nature  of  Christ's  greatness, 
we  wish  to  say  that  any  one  who  lays  so  much  stress  upon  the  in- 
carnation of  the  Gospel  in  a  person  should  first  of  all  concentrate  all 
his  attention  upon  finding  out  what  is  the  nature  of  personality. 
Much  has  been  done  of  late  in  this  line.  I  only  remind  the  reader 
in  this  connexion  of  Prof.  Th.  Ribot's  excellent  memoirs  on  psycho- 
logical problems.  As  soon  as  we  understand  the  nature  of  a  person- 
ality we  shall  overcome  the  mysticism  that  is  still  attached  to  the 
theological  conceptions  of  the  soul  and  the  soul's  immortality.  We 
shall  also  learn  to  understand  why  God  cannot  be  personal  but  must 
be  superpersonal.  Professor  Harnack  is  at  liberty  to  denounce  the 
idea  of  a  superpersonal  God  as  atheism.  We  shall  patiently  bear 
the  opprobrium,  in  the  hope  that  he  will  himself  by  and  by  come 


506  THE   MONIST. 

to  the  conclusion  that  the  attribute  of  personality  can  only  belittle 
God  and  that  the  belief  in  a  personal  God  is  after  all  only  a  higher 
type  of  paganism. 

Having,  in  his  way,  characterised  the  Religion  of  Science,  Pro- 
fessor Harnack  says,  "  I  should  rejoice  if  I  were  mistaken."  Very 
well  then,  there  is  cause  enough  to  rejoice  ;  and  let  me  add,  that  I 
have  always  regarded  Professor  Harnack  as  one  of  the  chief  pioneers 
of  the  Religion  of  Science.  I  am  sorry  to  see  that  he  has  not  as  yet 
freed  himself  from  the  bondage  of  mysticism  ;  but  since  in  his  work 
he  adopts  the  ethics  of  the  Religion  of  Science,  we  must  feel  confi- 
dent that  his  path  will  lead  him  at  last  into  the  full  light  of  the  new 
dispensation  which  is  the  fulfilment  of  all  the  old  prophecies,  the 
only  orthodox  and  the  only  catholic  religion. 

EDITOR. 


LEONARDO  DA  VINCI  AS  A  PIONEER  IN  SCIENCE. 

IT  WERE  easier  for  the  mature  intellect  to  recover  that  belief  in 
fairy-tales  which  is  the  privilege  and  joy  of  childhood,  than  for 
any  of  us  to  return  to  a  point  of  view  which  enlightened  men  have 
long  since  left  behind.  If  our  imagination  be  keen  and  our  sym- 
pathy quick,  we  can  perhaps  understand  what  it  was  that  our  fore- 
runners believed,  but  we  shall  never  feel  towards  it  as  they  felt. 
There  are  no  dryads  in  the  woods,  no  naiads  in  the  streams,  for  us ; 
the  rudely  hewn  block  of  wood  is  no  fetish  to  which  we  bow ;  the 
story  of  griffin  or  vampire  does  not  affright  ;  the  naive  mediaeval 
miracle  wrought  by  some  pious  relic  has  no  power  to  confirm  our 
faith  :  in  these  things  we  detect  at  the  most  an  allegory  or  a  hallu- 
cination. The  race  makes  certain  advances,  as  a  traveller  journeys 
through  a  strange  country  by  night,  without  being  able  to  map  out 
its  course.  Not  only  are  the  gates  of  birth  and  death  wrapped  in 
the  mists  of  lethe,  but  so  too  are  the  thresholds  of  progress.  Only 
in  the  realm  of  reason,  and  of  morals  derived  from  reason,  do  all 
men  walk  as  equals  and  contemporaries.  The  mirage  of  fancy,  the 
fog  of  superstition,  vanish  as  the  sun  of  reason  prevails  ;  once  men 
regarded  them  as  permanent  realities  ;  now  we  know  that  they  were 
evanescent ;  herein  lies  the  difference  between  us  and  our  ances- 
tors,— a  difference  absolute  and  unalterable. 

As  we  are  more  learned  so  are  we  more  sophisticated  than  our 
fathers.  We  hesitate  to  say  of  any  truth  "This  is  final,"  because 
finality  implies  a  world  bound  in  adamantine  unchangeableness, 
whereas  we  perceive  that  ours  is  a  fluent  and  unfolding  world.  This 
perception,  which  is  coming  to  be  the  common  property  of  cultivated 


508  THE  M  ONI  ST. 

men,  even  of  those  who  strive  most  earnestly  against  it,  distinguishes 
the  Modern  from  the  Middle  Age.  To  us,  all  things  are  in  process 
of  development ;  to  the  mediaeval,  all  things — religion,  science,  gov- 
vernment — were  fixed.  The  earth  itself  was  to  him  the  centre  of 
the  universe,  a  fixed  point  round  which  the  planets,  sun,  and  stars 
revolved  ;  his  religion,  formulated  long  before  according  to  super- 
natural dictation,  might  be  neither  amended,  nor  put  in  question. 
Philosophy  was  not  the  exploration  of  the  infinite  by  finite  man,  but 
the  exercise  of  his  mind  along  a  clearly  defined  path  which  always 
curved  back  to  the  starting-point.  Science  was  a  mixture  of  half- 
truths  and  absurdities  :  the  dictum  of  Aristotle,  Ptolemy,  or  Galen 
being  accepted  as  infallible,  even  when  plainly  contradicted  by  the 
experience  of  every  day.  Government,  in  theory  at  least,  was  a 
rigid  scheme  foreordained  from  the  beginning. 

I  am  not  concerned  to  point  out  what  benefit  the  race  derived 
from  that  age  of  formulas  ;  benefits  there  were,  if  only  in  the  knowl- 
edge gained  that  the  soul  cannot  prosper  in  bondage  ;  my  purpose 
is  to  call  fresh  attention  to  the  contrast  between  that  age  and  our 
own,  in  order  that  we  may  measure  the  magnitude  of  the  achieve- 
ment of  such  men  as  Leonardo  da  Vinci  who  broke  away  from  me- 
diaevalism,  and  who,  though  surrounded  by  conditions  utterly  un- 
like ours,  nevertheless  belongs  in  spirit  to  our  time  rather  than  to 
his  own.  That  spirit  was  the  spirit  of  inquiry,  the  modern  spirit  ;  the 
mediaeval  did  not  inquire,  he  took  for  granted.  Not  only  in  all  those 
considerations  which  haunt  serious  minds — the  nature  of  God,  im- 
mortality, conscience — did  he  accept  without  demur  the  statements 
handed  down  to  him,  but  also  in  purely  physical  affairs  was  he  un- 
critical. Read  the  manual  of  the  medical  school  of  Salerno,  and  see 
how  hearsay  and  superstition  took  the  place  of  observation  in  the 
treatment  of  the  simplest  form  of  disease.  Read  Brunetto  Latini's 
"Natural  History"  and  see  what  fantasies  were  spread  concerning 
the  animal  kingdom.  One  example  will  illustrate  the  general  atti- 
tude of  mediaevals  towards  demonstrating  facts  :  There  was  an  old 
fable  that  salamanders  can  live  in  the  hottest  flame.  A  modern 
would  have  put  a  salamander  in  the  fire  and  watched  the  effect ;  the 
mediaeval,  on  the  contrary,  never  thought  of  applying  so  simple  a 


LEONARDO  DA  VINCI  A  PIONEER  IN   SCIENCE.  509 

test, — he  believed  the  fable,  and  gravely  repeated  it.      His  habitual 
attitude  was  one  of  credulity. 

We  need  not  wonder  at  this.  Inquiry  presupposes  ignorance, 
a  worthy  desire  to  clear  away  doubts.  We  do  not  dispute  over  the 
multiplication-table.  But  to  the  mediaeval  the  ultimate  mysteries 
of  human  destiny  were  wholly  removed  from  the  pale  of  inquiry;  he 
might  not  understand  the  strange  scheme  of  the  incarnation,  of  vi- 
carious atonement,  of  the  resurrection,  but  he  believed  it,  and  be- 
lieving, he  ceased  to  inquire.  He  did  not  doubt  the  reality  of  heaven 
or  of  purgatory  :  he  was  more  certain  of  the  existence  of  hell  than 
of  the  countries  beyond  his  native  mountains.  This  certainty  could 
not  but  discourage  investigation  into  the  primal  mysteries. 

Moreover,  his  creed  tended  to  make  him  despise  the  material 
world  in  which  he  lived.  The  Christianity  which  he  professed  was 
a  composite  of  Hebrew,  Persian,  and  pagan  beliefs,  which  had  been 
fitted  together  at  different  times.  That  they  were  mutually  contra- 
dictory did  not  trouble  him,  because  he  gave  a  proof  of  his  faith 
when  he  believed  impossible  doctrines  ;  that  they  conflicted  with 
the  simple,  authentic  teaching  of  Christ  did  not  trouble  him,  because 
that  teaching  came  to  him  after  councils,  doctors,  and  a  hundred 
popes  had  stamped  their  several  interpretations  upon  it.  Among 
the  strange  doctrines  which  had  wound  itself  round  early  Christian- 
ity was  the  Manichaean  doctrine  that  matter  is  the  product  of  an 
evil  principle,  a  Devil,  who  wars  perpetually  against  God,  the  creator 
of  spirit.  This  being  accepted  as  true,  the  part  of  the  devout  me- 
diaeval was  plain  :  he  strove  to  eschew  the  material  world  as  the 
Devil's  kingdom.  This  world  included,  of  course,  his  own  body, 
which  he  mortified  to  the  glory  of  God  and  the  discomfiture  of  Sa- 
tan. To  have  allowed  his  attention  to  wander  to  the  processes  of 
nature  and  to  have  examined  into  their  causes  would  have  been  un- 
holy and  perilous  :  unholy,  because  in  so  doing  he  would  have  given 
to  the  works  of  God's  adversary  interest  which  he  ought  to  conse- 
crate to  God  alone  ;  perilous,  because  the  Devil  had  cunningly  sown 
the  world  of  matter  with  lures  to  ensnare  the  souls  of  men.  And 
after  all  what  could  it  profit  him  to  learn  all  possible  knowledge 
concerning  the  material  world?  In  God's  world,  in  heaven,  which 


510  THE  MONIST. 

he  hoped  to  enter  after  a  brief  exile  here  below,  such  knowledge 
would  be  irrelevant,  useless,  impious.  His  body,  therefore,  was  not 
merely  an  inert  clog  to  salvation,  it  was  the  active  ally  of  the  Fiend, 
who  spread  before  every  one  of  the  bodily  senses  attractions  to  en- 
tice the  soul  away  from  the  contemplation  of  God.  Pleasure  became 
synonymous  with  sin  ;  beauty  was  the  mask  of  temptation.  Only 
by  a  strenuous  asceticism,  a  mortification  of  the  senses,  and  a  starving 
of  all  mundane  desires,  could  the  mediaeval  devotee  cheat  the  Devil. 
No  wonder  that  he  walked  on  tiptoe,  as  over  young  ice,  when  one 
misstep  would  plunge  him  into  the  abyss  forever  !  No  wonder  that 
he  gave  the  least  possible  heed  to  the  properties  of  laws  of  matter  ! 

But  in  the  thirteenth  century  Christendom  began  to  awake,  be- 
gan to  suspect  that  it  had  been  the  victim  of  a  hideous  nightmare. 
Dante,  the  first  modern  man,  embodying  the  theology  of  the  Middle 
Age  and  foreshadowing  the  realism  of  the  new  age,  made  an  alle- 
gory of  the  actual  moral  condition  of  men  on  earth.  The  epic  poets 
of  antiquity  had  sung  the  adventures  of  gods  and  heroes  ;  Dante 
wove  an  epic  out  of  the  experiences  of  the  human  soul  on  its  pas- 
sage from  the  depths  of  imperfection  to  the  heights  of  righteousness. 
Hitherto,  an  unbridgeable  chasm  had  yawned  between  pagan  and 
Christian  times  ;  Dante,  feeling  profoundly  the  continuity  of  the  life 
of  the  race,  introduced  into  his  vision  the  chief  personages  of  pagan 
history  and  mythology,  together  with  the  saints  and  heroes  of  Chris- 
tianity, and  his  own  contemporaries,  in  order  to  complete  his  por- 
trayal of  human  character.  This  was  a  long  step  gained  ;  it  was  an 
admission  that  whatever  might  be  the  destiny  of  men  in  the  world  to 
come,  they  could  all,  whether  born  before  or  after  the  birth  of  Christ, 
be  measured  by  the  same  moral  scale  in  this  world. 

Close  upon  Dante  followed  Petrarch,  Boccaccio,  and  the  swarm 
of  Humanists.  Learning  ceased  to  be  the  exclusive  privilege  of 
ecclesiastics.  The  conviction  deepened  that  man's  life  on  earth  is 
most  interesting  for  its  own  sake,  irrespective  of  its  being,  or  not 
being,  the  preparation  for  eternal  life  hereafter.  Across  a  thousand 
years  the  civilisation  of  Greece  and  Rome  loomed  up  in  fascinating 
grandeur.  Over  the  barrenness  of  ages  the  fresh  vital  air  of  Athens 
blew  straight  upon  Italy,  as  a  pollen-bearing  wind  in  spring-time ; 


LEONARDO  DA  VINCI  A  PIONEER  IN   SCIENCE.  511 

and  the  Humanists  breathed  its  freedom  and  joyousness  as  eagerly 
as  a  bedridden  patient  would  welcome  health,  or  an  old  man  his 
vanished  youth.  How  futile  now  seemed  the  quibbles  of  the  school- 
men !  How  mistaken  the  crabbed  precepts  of  mediaeval  theologians! 
How  repulsive,  narrow,  and  unnatural  the  life  that  they  had  led  ! 
The  Greeks,  the  Romans,  with  no  Christian  teaching  to  guide  them, 
with  no  ascetic  fanaticism,  had  lifted  their  commonwealth  to  a  plane 
of  grandeur  far  above  that  of  any  subsequent  State ;  and  in  virtues, 
civic  or  private,  in  poetry,  in  commerce,  in  the  arts,  they  had  sur- 
passed their  Christian  successors.  To  recover  all  that  could  be  re- 
covered of  that  classic  civilisation,  its  ideals  and  achievements,  be- 
came therefore  the  passion  of  the  Humanists  ;  they  searched  each 
ancient  manuscript  as  if  it  were  a  lost  will  in  which  they  might  find 
that  some  forgotten  ancestor  had  bequeathed  to  them  an  incalcula- 
ble fortune.  That  must  ever  be  regarded  as  one  of  the  noblest 
epochs  in  the  history  of  the  race  when  the  best  men  joined  the  pur- 
suit of  things  spiritual  and  intellectual  with  all  the  fervor  and  perti- 
nacity with  which  their  descendants  a  century  later  set  out  in  quest 
of  Eldorados  in  America  and  to  conquer  the  material  wealth  of  the 
Indies.  The  immediate  result  of  this  enthusiasm  was  to  bring  to 
the  Humanists  a  sufficient  knowledge  of  the  ancient  civilisation  to 

* 

enable  them  to  compare  this  with  the  mediaeval  Christian  standard 
which  had  hitherto  reigned  alone.  From  this  comparison  sprang 
criticism,  the  handmaid  of  truth. 

Little  enough  did  the  early  explorers  suspect  whither  their 
quest  would  lead  them.  They  could  not  guess  that  a  search  for 
classic  manuscripts  would  end,  as  Michelet  has  it,  in  the  discovery 
of  man  and  of  the  world.  Yet  so  it  was.  The  spirit  of  inquiry, 
refused  from  its  millennial  torpor,  hungrily  investigated  all  things. 
The  old  answer  to  the  riddle  of  existence  was  cast  aside  as  unsatis- 
factory; a  new  answer  must  be  wrested  from  the  dumb,  inscrutable 
universe.  In  their  first  passion  for  discovery,  men  did  not  dream 
that  the  solution  might  elude  them.  Wherever  they  looked  they 
saw  untrodden  avenues  leading  into  the  heart  of  the  mystery.  Dis- 
carding mediaeval  preconceptions,  they  began  to  study  human  na- 
ture. They  looked  upon  the  earth  and  saw  that  it  was  fair,  and  its 


512  THE  MONIST. 

beauty  no  longer  seemed  to  them  a  Satanic  lure.  They  began  to 
see  in  the  world  of  matter  orderly  processes,  the  coursing  to  and  fro 
of  vivifying  laws,  like  blood  in  the  arteries  of  man.  They  looked 
upon  the  heaven,s,  and  their  souls  were  awed  by  a  premonition  of  vast- 
ness  only  consonant  with  the  belief  that  God,  and  not  the  Devil,  was 
their  author.  In  the  presence  of  the  sublime  immensity  of  the 
stellar  spaces,  the  cramped  view  of  human  destiny  as  expressed  by 
mediaeval  dogma,  must  seem  impious  and  absurd.  By  the  close  of 
the  fifteenth  century  men  were  beginning  to  rise  to  the  conception 
of  a  cosmos,  of  a  world  forever  becoming,  alive  and  interrelated  in  all 
its  parts.  The  old  notion  of  fixity, — of  one  unchanging  religion,  of 
one  foreordained  and  immutable  ideal  of  government,  of  earth  an- 
chored in  space,  and  of  man  the  crown  and  centre  of  creation, — was 
doomed.  The  discovery  that  this  is  a  living  and  unfolding  universe 
was  the  most  important  event  in  human  history  since  the  birth  of 
Christ. 

I  would  not  paint  the  achievements  of  the  Renaissance  in  colors 
too  gorgeous,  nor  imply  that  the  men  of  that  epoch  understood  the 
bearing  of  the  movement  they  originated.  Many  of  the  deductions 
drawn  from  their  tentative  investigations  have  been  drawn  very  re- 
cently. Many  of  the  paths  they  opened  and  explored  diverged  into 
the  wilderness  where  the  footsteps  of  man  flounder  perilously  and 
the  soul  of  man  finds  no  cheer.  I  have  elsewhere  stated  *  some  of 
the  deficiencies,  the  appalling,  cardinal  deficiencies,  which,  in  Italy, 
at  least,  caused  the  Renaissance  to  be  partial  and  temporary.  But 
after  deducting  from  it  what  we  must,  it  remains  a  period  of  inesti- 
mable significance.  If  its  very  doubts  were  pregnant,  how  shall  we 
define  the  truths  it  revealed,  truths  typified  by  the  discoveries  of 
Columbus  and  Copernicus,  and  by  the  invention  of  Gutenberg?  The 
mission  of  the  Renaissance  was  to  establish  reason  as  the  final  guide 
and  judge  of  mankind.  With  the  enthronement  of  reason,  the  Ger- 
man Reformation,  the  American  commonwealth,  the  French  Revo- 
lution, and  every  other  advance  which  the  race  has  made,  became 
intelligible. 

*See  The  Dawn  of  Italian  Independence,  Vol.  I,  Chap.  6. 


LEONARDO  DA  VINCI  A  PIONEER  IN   SCIENCE.  513 

To  rationalise  nature,  to  discover,  that  is,  reason  in  her  mani- 
fold operations,  to  substitute  for  the  mediaeval  scheme  of  ignorance 
and  miracle  the  idea  of  cosmic  order,  has  been  the  particular  busi- 
ness of  science  for  more  than  four  centuries.  We  who  inherit  the 
knowledge  accumulated  by  the  patience  of  countless  investigators 
and  co-ordinated  and  classified  by  a  few  master  thinkers,  cannot  put 
ourselves  back  into  that  state  of  mind  in  which  the  earliest  explorers 
set  out.  Immemorial  traditions,  habits  of  thought,  lack  of  instru- 
ments, theological  prejudice,  were  all  against  them.  Nature  lay 
under  a  ban.  The  world  was  an  inert  mass.  To  overcome  these 
obstacles  required  the  development  of  other  organs,  the  implanting 
of  the  spirit  of  inquiry.  The  wisest  men  had  hitherto  been  as  babes 
in  the  presence  of  the  majestic  forces  of  the  material  universe.  The 
laws  of  gravitation,  of  expansion,  of  heat  and  cold,  worked  in  and 
through  them,  yet  they  heeded  them  not.  Electricity  sped  on  its  er- 
rands from  zenith  to  nadir,  invisible,  swift  as  an  archangel,  yet  were 
they  unaware  of  its  passing.  They  were  blind  to  nature's  beauty 
and  power,  deaf  to  her  innumerable  voices.  In  what  mysterious 
manner  a  few  men  began  to  see  and  hear,  let  those  explain  who 
know  how  the  acorn  enfolds  the  far-spreading  oak  in  its  shell,  and 
how  in  an  embryo  lie  dormant  the  intellect  and  soul  of  a  possible 
Caesar  or  Shakespeare. 

What  we  do  know,  however,  is  that  in  the  fifteenth  century  a 
few  men  began  to  scrutinise  nature,  very  tentatively  at  first,  and 
with  no  premonition  of  the  results  which  such  scrutiny  would  reach. 
Foremost  among  them  was  Leonardo  da  Vinci.  Other  investiga- 
tors of  that  century,  Copernicus  the  most  conspicuous,  have  ranked 
higher  than  he  in  the  annals  of  science  ;  but  none,  as  I  hope  to 
show,  equalled  him  in  scientific  endowment.  He  was  disenthralled 
from  mediaeval  preconceptions,  for  he  possessed  a  temperament  so 
purged  of  theories  that  in  approaching  a  new  fact  his  sole  aim  was 
to  discover  the  true  nature  of  that  fact,  unbiassed  by  what  others 
had  found  in  it.  His  curiosity  was  insatiable  ;  his  methods  were  ob- 
servation and  experiment ;  his  advance  was  from  the  known  to  the 
unknown,  whereas  the  mediaeval,  as  we  have  seen,  took  the  unknown 
for  granted,  and  ceased  to  inquire.  That  Leonardo's  achievements 


5*4 


THE  MONIST. 


in  science  and  invention  should  never  have  had  due  recognition,  is 
to  be  attributed  in  part  to  their  great  range — the  world  remembers 
longer  him  who  travels  farthest  in  a  single  direction,  than  him  who 
travels  far  in  many;  and  in  part  to  an  accident  which  buried  them 
for  three  centuries.  Even  now  we  have  but  an  imperfect  record  of 
them.  Not  as  a  candidate  for  belated  fame — Leonardo's  fame  is 
secure — but  as  a  pioneer  of  the  modern  spirit,  and  as  a  favorite 
whom  Nature  took  into  her  confidence,  let  us  consider  him  here. 

The  important  facts  in  Leonardo  da  Vinci's  life  can  be  briefly 
told.  The  natural  son  of  a  Florentine  notary,  he  was  born  at  the 
castle  of  Vinci,  on  the  Arno,  between  Florence  and  Pisa,  in  1452. 
Vasari  relates  stories  of  his  youthful  precocity,  which  often  aston- 
ished his  instructors,  and  of  his  fondness  for  music.  Being  admit- 
ted early  into  the  studio  of  Verrocchio,  he  learned  not  only  painting 
and  sculpture,  but  also  the  goldsmith's  art,  which,  we  may  remark, 
had  an  influence  not  easily  to  be  computed  in  giving  to  the  Floren- 
tine School  of  Painting  that  precision,  that  loyalty  to  the  line,  which 
distinguish  it  from  the  Venetian  School.  How  the  young  Leonardo 
painted  into  one  of  his  master's  pictures  an  angel  far  beyond  Ver- 
rocchio's  skill,  and  how  he  drew  a  Gorgon's  head  so  life-like  that  it 
frightened  persons  who  came  upon  it  unawares,  need  not  here  be 
repeated.  In  1472  he  was  already  an  independent  artist,  and  dur- 
ing the  next  eight  or  nine  years  he  worked  in  Florence,  but  to  what 
purpose  we  can  only  guess,  as  almost  all  the  fruits  of  this  period 
have  been  lost.  In  1480  he  addressed  a  remarkable  letter  to  Lodo- 
vico  Sforza,  tyrant  of  Milan,  asking  for  employment  and  laying 
chief  stress  on  his  ability  as  a  military  engineer.  The  letter  brought 
him  an  invitation  to  go  to  Milan,  where  he  was  engaged  in  mechan- 
ical and  engineering  enterprises,  in  the  direction  of  ducal  festivities, 
and  in  the  construction  of  a  colossal  monument  to  Francesco  Sforza, 
Lodovico's  father.  The  fresco,  "The  Last  Supper,"  is  one  of  the  few 
remaining  authentic  works  of  Leonardo's  brush  during  his  long  resi- 
dence in  Lombardy,  and  no  one  now  can  say  that  a  single  patch  of 
color  in  that  ruined  masterpiece  was  laid  on  by  him.  Indeed,  fate, 
which  showered  upon  Leonardo  innumerable  gifts,  seems  to  have  de- 
creed that  posterity  should  know  his  genius  by  hearsay  only,  so  per- 


LEONARDO  DA  VINCI  A  PIONEER  IN  SCIENCE.  515 

versely  has  fate  allowed  his  works  to  be  lost  or  mutilated.  That  co- 
lossal statue  of  Sforza  was  not  yet  completed  when  Louis  XII.  in- 
vaded the  Milanese  and  put  an  end  to  the  sculptor's  work  there;  the 
great  fresco  has  suffered  irreparably  from  neglect,  violence,  and 
restoration ;  and  of  the  half-score  paintings  which  remain  scarcely 
one  gives  us  a  hint  of  the  beauty  of  its  original  coloring. 

In  1500  Leonardo  visited  Venice  and  Florence.  Two  years 
later  he  was  appointed  engineer  by  Caesar  Borgia,  who  was  engaged 
in  a  military  expedition  against  those  States  south  of  the  Po  that  had 
not  already  submitted  to  his  tyranny.  During  this  summer  we  have 
glimpses  of  Leonardo  at  Urbino,  Pesaro,  Rimini,  Cesena,  and  Ce- 
senatico,  along  the  Adriatic  ;  at  Siena,  Chiusi,  and  Orvieto  in  the 
Centre  ;  and  at  Piombino  near  the  Tuscan  Sea.  In  the  following 
spring  he  settled  at  Florence  and  painted  "The  Battle  of  Anghiari  " 
on  one  wall  of  the  council  hall  of  the  Palace  of  the  Signory,  while 
on  another  wall  his  young  rival,  Michael  Angelo,  painted  avast  group 
of  "Soldiers  Bathing."  Not  a  trace  of  either  fresco  survives.  But 
Leonardo,  never  at  his  ease  in  Florence,  returned  to  Milan  in  1506. 
Thenceforward,  until  1515,  he  seldom  stayed  long  in  anyplace  ;  till 
Francis  I.  came  into  Italy  and  induced  him  to  go  back  to  France, 
where  he  was  assigned  a  residence  at  the  Chateau  Cloux,  near  Am- 
boise  on  the  Loire,  1516.  There  he  died  May  2,  1519,  and  was 
buried  in  the  Royal  Chapel  at  Amboise. 

In  person,  as  in  mind,  Leonardo  lacked  no  gifts.  He  excelled 
in  dancing,  in  fencing,  in  horsemanship,  in  lute-playing.  Well- 
known  anecdotes,  chiefly  drawn  from  Vasari's  precious  and  inex- 
haustible quarry,  illustrate  alike  his  unusual  physical  strength  and 
his  wonderful  dexterity.  He  was  genial  in  temper  and  kind  in  heart, 
and  he  possessed  the  rare  combination  of  humor  and  wit.  His  in- 
terest in  man  and  in  nature  was  many-sided  and  unflagging  ;  noth- 
ing being  too  vast  or  too  minute  for  his  attentive  curiosity.  He  had 
the  patient  inquisitiveness  of  the  specialist  who  pores  over  details ; 
he  had  also  the  generalising  faculty  of  the  philosopher  who  deduces 
laws  and  discovers  wider  relations.  His  attitude  towards  life  was, 
in  a  word,  thoroughly  modern  and  scientific.  As  little  as  possible 
did  the  past,  with  its  traditions  and  dogmas,  hamper  him  :  to  search 


THE  MONIST. 

out  all  things,  to  experiment  and  verify,  to  let  his  own  eyes  test  and 
reason  be  the  judge — this  was  Leonardo's  method. 

That  letter  which  Leonardo  wrote  to  Lodovico  Sforza  is  still 
extant,  and  it  throws  so  much  light  upon  his  genius  and  his  self- 
knowledge  that  it  is  worth  quoting  almost  entire  :— 

"  Having,  most  illustrious  lord,  seen  and  considered  the  experiments  of  all  those 
who  repute  themselves  masters  and  inventors  of  warlike  instruments,  and  having 
observed  that  their  said  instruments  are  nowise  different  from  those  in  common  use, 
I  will  attempt,  without  disparaging  any  one  else,  to  explain  myself  to  your  Excel- 
lency; opening  for  this  purpose  my  secrets.  .  .  . 

"  i.  I  have  a  way  of  making  bridges,  very  light  and  adapted  to  be  carried  very 
easily,  by  which  to  pursue  or  escape  from  an  enemy;  and  others  more  secure,  and 
indestructible  by  fire  and  battle,  easy  and  convenient  to  set  in  position  and  to  re- 
move. And  means  for  burning  and  destroying  those  of  the  enemy. 

"2.  In  investing  a  place,  I  know  how  to  remove  water  from  fosses,  and  to  make 
various  scaling-ladders,  and  other  instruments  pertinent  to  such  an  expedition. 

"  3.  Item,  if,  on  account  of  the  bank  or  strength  of  place  and  site,  in  the  siege 
of  a  city  cannon  cannot  be  used,  I  have  means  of  undermining  every  fortress,  pro- 
vided it  be  not  founded  on  stone. 

"4.  I  can  make  cannon  easy  and  convenient  to  transport,  by  which  burning 
stuff  can  be  discharged,  whose  smoke  will  cause  great  fear  to  the  enemy,  to  his  seri- 
ous harm  and  confusion. 

"5.  Item,  lean  make  mines  and  narrow  and  winding  ways  to  reach  without 
noise  a  given  [point] ;  and,  if  need  be,  I  can  make  them  pass  under  trenches  or  a 
river. 

' '  6.  Item,  I  can  make  covered  carts,  secure  and  indestructible,  which,  with 
their  artillery,  entering  among  the  enemy,  will  break  the  strongest  body  of  men  ; 
and  behind  these  carts  infantry  can  follow  unwounded  and  without  any  hindrance. 

"  7.  Item,  if  necessary,  I  will  make  cannon, -mortars,  and  fire-arms  of  most  use- 
ful and  beautiful  forms,  different  from  those  in  common  use. 

"8.  When  cannon  are  impracticable,  I  will  devise  catapults,  mangonels,  mor- 
tars (trabuchi),  and  other  instruments  of  wonderful  efficacy  and  novelty  ;  and,  in 
short,  according  to  the  variety  of  needs,  I  will  invent  divers  and  many  engines  of 
offence 

' '  9.  And  if  by  sea,  I  have  a  lot  of  instruments  most  suitable  for  attack  and  de- 
fence ;  and  vessels  that  will  resist  the  fire  of  the  heaviest  cannon  ;  and  powders  and 
fire-stuffs. 

"10.  In  time  of  peace,  I  believe  I  can  give  good  satisfaction — in  comparison 
with  any  other — in  architecture,  in  constructing  edifices,  both  public  and  private, 
and  in  conducting  water  from  one  place  to  another. 

"Item,  I  can  do  in  sculpture  of  marble,  bronze,  or  clay,  likewise  in  painting, 


LEONARDO  DA  VINCI  A  PIONEER  IN  SCIENCE.  517 

equally  as  well  as  any  other,  be  he  who  he  may.  Further,  the  work  might  be  ex- 
ecuted on  the  bronze  horse,  which  will  be  the  immortal  glory  and  eternal  honor  of 
the  happy  memory  of  your  father,  and  of  the  illustrious  House  of  Sforza.  And  if 
to  anybody  any  of  the  above-mentioned  things  seem  impossible  and  unachievable,  I 
offer  myself  most  ready  to  make  trial  of  them  in  your  park,  or  in  whatever  place 
shall  please  your  Excellency,  to  whom  in  all  humility  I  commend  myself." 

In  this  letter,  written  when  he  was  only  twenty-seven  or  twenty- 
eight,  Leonardo  magnifies  his  ability  as  an  engineer  and  speaks  but 
briefly  of  his  skill  as  an  artist — briefly,  but  haughtily,  as  that  phrase 
" equally  as  well  as  any  other,  be  he  who  he  may,"  bears  witness. 
In  a  little  man  such  an  inventory  of  talents  would  sound  presump- 
tuous, but  Leonardo  can  do  all  that  he  announces.  He  is  seeking 
employment  from  a  military  tyrant  who  needs  engines  for  conquer- 
ing his  foes  more  than  he  needs  paintings  or  statues  ;  and  therefore 
Leonardo  insists  on  his  own  pre-eminence  as  an  engineer.  But  there 
shall  be  frescoes,  too,  and  monuments,  and  rare  products  of  the  arts 
of  peace,  if  only  Louis  "the  Moor"  will  listen  to  him. 

Let  us  now  survey  the  circle  of  his  achievements. 

Leonardo  flourished  in  a  period  of  transition  when  mediaeval 
weapons  were  being  replaced  by  modern  fire-arms.  The  tremendous 
military  value  of  gunpowder,  after  its.  discovery  by  Roger  Bacon  in 
the  middle  of  the  thirteenth  century,  had  not  quickly  been  perceived. 
Cannon  were  used,  it  is  true,  at  the  battle  of  Crecy,  in  1 346  ;  but 
their  general  adoption  can  hardly  be  dated  earlier  than  the  last 
quarter  of  the  fifteenth  century,  when  they  were  used  by  the  Span- 
iards in  the  conquest  of  Granada,  by  Louis  XL  in  his  wars  with  the 
great  French  feudatories,  and  by  the  Italian  mercenaries  in  their 
sordid,  dilatory  campaigns.  So  among  Leonardo's  inventions  we 
find  some  which  were  improvements  on  the  pikes,  cross-bows,  and 
catapults  of  the  earlier  system,  and  others  which,  adapted  to  the 
use  of  gunpowder,  extended  the  scope  of  the  new  system.  He  de- 
signed a  huge  machine,  to  be  worked  by  ten  men  in  treadmill  fash- 
ion, from  which  a  large  and  almost  simultaneous  volley  of  shafts 
could  be  discharged — a  forerunner  of  the  Gatling  gun  and  the  mi- 
trailleuse. He  also  planned  great  catapults,  and  an  enormous  copper 
cannon,  which  he  called  Architonitros,  to  be  exploded  by  steam.  He 


518  THE  M  ON  I  ST. 

ascertained  that  cannon-balls  have  a  velocity  of  one  hundred  and 
ten  metres  per  second,  and  that  it  is  useless  to  increase  the  charge 
of  powder,  unless  the  size  of  the  grain  be  increased.  He  experi- 
mented with  fusees  ;  he  devised  methods  for  strengthening  fortifica- 
tions by  artillery,  and  for  making  ravelins,  mines,  and  storming- 
machines.  Just  how  far  he  advanced  the  art  of  fortification  cannot 
be  determined,  for  we  cannot  tell  how  much  Vauban  invented  him- 
self, and  how  much  he  borrowed  from  the  Italian  military  engineers 
who  preceded  him,  among  whom  Leonardo  stands  foremost.  The 
very  important  principle  of  clearance  fire,  often  credited  to  the 
Frenchman,  appears  to  have  been  understood  by  his  Florentine 
predecessor.  Certainly,  Leonardo  made  drawings  of  what  are  ap- 
parently breech-loading  guns.  He  computed  the  relative  speed  and 
efficacy  of  stone  and  lead  balls,  and  suggested  that  they  be  conical 
instead  of  round.  In  marine  warfare  and  in  navigation  he  designed 
improvements.  He  mentions  the  log  for  showing  a  ship's  progress 
at  sea  ;  hitherto,  the  earliest  reference  to  the  log  was  made  by  Ma- 
gellan in  1521.  He  invented  swimming-belts,  and,  more  important 
still,  paddle-wheels  by  which  boats  might  be  propelled  against  wind 
or  current. 

A  century  before  Stevinus,  Leonardo  pointed  out  the  need  of  a 
rational  treatment  of  mechanical  problems ;  possibly  he  suspected 
the  uniformity  of  mechanical  laws.  He  found  the  centre  of  gravity 
of  a  pyramid  ;  he  explained  the  theory  of  the  inclined  plane  ;  he 
studied  the  phenomena  of  concussion,  of  friction,  of  the  resistance 
of  springs.  He  invented  a  dynamometer.  Some  of  his  axioms  de- 
serve to  be  cited,  for  comparison  with  those  now  held  to  be  true  : 
"  Percussion,"  he  says,  "is  power  reduced  into  a  little  time,"  and 
"exceeds,  in  equal  time,  every  other  natural  force";  "An  object 
which  falls  freely,  acquires  in  every  degree  of  its  descent  degrees  of 
velocity;"  "A  man  walking  goes  faster  with  his  head  than  with  his 
feet ;"  "That  body  will  become  lighter  which  occupies  more  air  ;" 
"No  dead  object  moves  by  itself,  but  by  another  is  its  motion 
caused  ;"  "  No  moving  object  will  ever  move  faster  than  the  force 
which  moves  it ;"  "Every  action  is  the  result  of  motion."  In  his 
experiments  he  used  elastic  balls  suspended  by  threads,  a  device 


LEONARDO  DA  VINCI  A  PIONEER  IN   SCIENCE.  519 

adopted  by  Borelli  and  later  physicists.  He  was  aware  that  a  body 
can  be  under  the  influence  of  more  than  one  motive  force  at  the 
same  time.  In  his  researches  in  attrition  and  friction  he  antici- 
pated L'Amoutons  (1699),  Biilfinger  (1727),  and  Desaguliers  (1832). 

Although  his  notes  on  this  subject  are  scanty  we  infer  that  he 
gave  attention  to  electricity.  According  to  Libri,*  he  first  remarked 
the  regular  movement  of  dust  placed  on  elastic  surfaces  in  vibra- 
tion. Like  the  inventors  of  our  own  times,  he  aimed  at  substituting 
a  machine  for  a  man,  wherever  this  substitution  would  save  labor. 
That  he  was  the  first  to  employ  the  plus  and  minus  symbols,  is  an 
assertion  I  am  unable  to  verify,  f 

Coming  next  to  botany  we  find  that  Leonardo's  priority  in  sev- 
eral important  discoveries  has  been  recently  established.  G.  UzielliJ 
traces  the  advance  he  made  in  three  directions,  as  follows  : 

First,  Leonardo  discovered  the  laws  of  phyllotaxis,  or  the  ar- 
rangement of  leaves  on  their  stem.  He  was  the  first  to  observe  that 
the  order  of  growth  in  plants  and  trees  of  the  same  species  is  uni- 
form, and  that  their  leaves  have  three  different  modes  of  distribu- 
tion :  they  may  be  placed  opposite  to  each  other ;  they  may  be 
whorled,  or  verticillate  ;  they  may  be  alternate,  or  spiral.  He  demon- 
strated that  when  leaves  grow  in  pairs  they  have  generally  a  decus- 
sate arrangement,  that  is,  each  pair  is  at  right  angles  to  the  pair  di- 
rectly above  or  below  it  ;  and  he  also  showed  that  when  leaves  are 
verticillate,  those  in  one  whorl  are  seldom  in  a  direct  line  with  the 
whorls  above  and  below.  He  noted  that  the  quincuncial  form  is 
common  in  the  spiral  arrangement,  the  cycle  being  completed  by 
five  leaves,  and  the  sixth  leaf  being  in  a  direct  line  with  the  corre- 
sponding leaf  above  and  beneath.  "  Since  branches  grow  from  buds 
generated  in  the  axils  of  leaves,"  he  said,  "the  arrangement  of 
branches  on  the  trunk  necessarily  corresponds  to  that  of  the  leaves 
on  the  stem."  To  Sir  Thomas  Browne,  whose  book,  "The  Garden 


*  Libri  :  Histoire  des  Sciences  Mathematiques  en  Italic.     Paris,  1840. 

f  Richter,   in  his  work  on  Leonardo  da  Vinci  (London,  1880),   regards  this  as 
not  proved. 

\  II  Nuovo  Giornale  Bo tanico  Italiano,  Vol.  I,  No.  I,  1869;  quoted  in  Nature, 
Vol.  II,   p.  42. 


520 


THE  MONIST. 


Cyrus,  or  the  Quincuncial  Lozenge,"  was  printed  in  1658,  the  merit 
of  this  observation  has  been  hitherto  attributed/ 

Second,  Leonardo  discovered  that  the  age  of  exogenous  trees 
can  be  determined  from  the  structure  of  their  trunks.  He  writes  : 
"The  southern  part  of  the  plant  shows  more  vigor  and  youth  than 
the  northern.  The  rings  of  the  branches  of  trees  show  how  many 
years  they  have  lived,  and  their  greater  or  smaller  size  whether  they 
were  damper  or  drier.  They  also  show  the  direction  in  which  they 
were  turned,  because  they  afe  larger  on  the  north  side  than  on  the 
south,  and  for  this  reason  the  centre  of  the  tree  is  nearer  the  bark 
on  the  south  than  on  the  north  side."  Malpighi  and  Grew  (whose 
works  appeared  in  1675  and  1682  respectively)  have  heretofore  en- 
joyed the  honor  of  this  discovery.  But  Montaigne  mentions  (in  his 
"Journey  into  Italy,"  July  8,  1581)  that  at  Pisa  he  bought  several 
curiosities,  and  that  "the  person  of  whom  I  bought  these  things,  a 
man  of  great  note  as  a  mathematical  instrument  maker,  told  me  that 
trees  have  all  within  them  as  many  rings  and  circles  as  they  number 
years.  He  showed  me  examples  of  this  in  every  kind  of  wood  in 
his  shop,  for  he  is  a  turner  by  trade.  Those  trees  in  a  forest  which 
look  northwards  have  these  rings  closer  and  thicker  than  the  trees 
which  stand  in  other  directions ;  and  this  person  told  me  that  this 
was  so  invariably  the  case  that  by  looking  at  a  piece  of  timber,  he 
could  tell  how  old  the  tree  was,  whence  it  came,  and  in  what  direc- 
tion it  had  stood."  Montaigne's  "Journal"  was  recovered  only  to- 
wards the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century,  so  that  Malpighi  and  Grew 
could  not  have  borrowed  from  it,  but  it  seems  probable  that  the 
facts  he  mentions  as  having  been  disclosed  to  him  by  the  Pisan 
turner,  may  have  been  generally  known  in  the  seventeenth  century. 

Third,  Leonardo  investigated  the  process  of  growth  in  exoge- 
nous stems  by  the  formation  of  new  wood  on  the  bark,  a  process  he 
describes  thus:  "The  growth  in  the  size  of  plants  is  produced  by 
the  sap,  which  is  generated  in  the  month  of  April  between  the  out- 
side coating  (camisid)  and  the  wood  of  the  tree.  At  the  same  time 
this  outside  coating  becomes  converted  into  bark,  and  the  bark  ac- 
quires new  crevices  of  the  depth  of  ordinary  crevices."  This  ex- 
planation is,  I  believe,  no  longer  accepted  by  botanists  ;  but,  though 


LEONARDO  DA  VINCI  A   PIONEER  IN   SCIENCE.  521 

Leonardo's  conclusion  was  inaccurate,  his  researches  must  have 
contributed  to  the  discovery  of  the  truth.  He  made  many  drawings 
of  leaves,  which  for  exactness  and  beauty  have  never  been  surpassed.  * 
He  also  pursued  other,  more  fanciful,  experiments,  as,  for  instance, 
one  for  testing  the  effects  of  poison  on  trees,  by  boring  a  hole  in  the 
trunk  and  injecting  arsenic,  or  sublimate,  in  alcohol.  And  he  de- 
scribed how  an  impression  of  leaves  may  be  had  by  smearing  them 
with  white  lead,  oil,  and  lamp-black — as  ink  is  spread  on  the  types 
— and  stamping  them  on  paper :  a  process  which,  somewhat  modi- 
fied, has  recently  been  used  with  success  by  Hauer  and  others. 

That  he  was  a  close  observer  of  outward  nature,  his  paintings 
and  drawings  of  landscape  abundantly  testify;  but  he  went  deeper 
than  the  surface,  and  foresaw  more  than  one  vital  fact  which  geolo- 
gists have  since  established.  Fossils,  he  maintained,  are  the  re- 
mains of  plants  and  animals  of  a  bygone  age,  and  not,  as  was  com- 
monly asserted  by  his  contemporaries,  mere  "freaks  of  nature." 
When  fossil  shells  were  still  in  the  sea,  he  affirmed,  river-mud  near 
the  coast  had  penetrated  into  them.  "They  tell  us  that  these  shells 
were  formed  in  the  hills  by  the  influence  of  the  stars ;  but  I  ask, 
where  in  the  hills  are  the  stars  now  forming  shells  of  distinct  ages  and 
species?  and  how  can  the  stars  explain  the  origin  of  gravel,  occurring 
at  different  heights  and  composed  of  pebbles  rounded  as  if  by  the 
motion  of  running  water ;  or  in  what  manner  can  such  a  cause  ac- 
count for  the  petrifaction  in  the  same  place  of  various  leaves,  sea- 
weeds, and  marine  crabs  ?"f  In  thus  proclaiming  the  continuity  of 
geological  causes,  Leonardo  proves  his  kinship  with  the  masters  of 
modern  science.  He  attributed  the  denudation  of  mountain-peaks 
to  the  gradual  subsidence  of  water,  and  saw  that  the  direction  of  a 
falling  body  must  be  affected  by  the  rotation  of  the  earth — an  obser- 


*"I  might  refer  in  detail  to  four  studies  of  bramble  branches,  leaves,  and 
flowers,  and  fruit,  in  the  Royal  Collection  at  Windsor,  most  wonderful  for  patient 
accuracy  and  delicate  execution  ;  also  to  drawings  of  oak-leaves,  wild  guelder-roses, 
broom,  columbine,  asphodel,  bull-rush,  and  wood-spurge  in  the  same  collection. 
These  careful  studies  are  as  valuable  for  the  botanist  as  for  the  artist.  To  render 
the  specific  character  of  each  plant  with  greater  precision  would  be  impossible." 
J.  A.  Symonds,  The  Renaissance  in  Italy :  The  Fine  Arts,  p.  320. 

f  Quoted  by  Lyell,  Principles  of  Geology,  p.  19  (edit.  1862). 


522  THE   MONIST. 

vation  which  probably  explains  the  following  memorandum  :  "Write 
to  Bartholomew  the  Turk  about  the  ebb  and  flow  of  the  Pontic  Sea, 
and  to  find  out  whether  a  similar  phenomenon  exits  in  the  Hyrcan, 
or  Caspian  Sea."  He  held  that  valleys  are  the  beds  of  former 
rivers. 

His  observations  of  the  moon  are  even  more  interesting.  He  it 
was  who,  long  before  Kepler  and  Galileo,  demonstrated  that  the 
faint  light  which  we  see  on  the  new  moon  is  reflected  from  the 
earth.*  Kepler,  in  1596,  and  Galileo,  a  few  years  previous,  pub- 
lished their  explanation  of  this  phenomenon.  Leonardo  believed 
that  the  solar  light  is  radiated  to  the  moon  from  those  parts  of  the 
earth  where  there  is  most  water  :  "The  water  which  clothes  a  large 
portion  of  the  earth  receives  on  its  surface  the  image  of  the  sun,  and 
with  this  shines  upon  the  universe  and  becomes  a  star  with  the  same 
splendor  which  makes  us  see  the  other  stars."  He  also  stated  that 
"  the  moon  has  each  month  a  winter  and  a  summer,  and  has  greater 
heat  and  cold,  and  her  equinoxes  are  colder  than  ours."  To  a  lunar 
inhabitant,  he  said,  the  earth  performs  an  office  like  that  which  the 
moon  performs  for  us  by  night.  Although  the  Ptolemaic  system 
still  commonly  obtained — the  terrestrial  explorations  of  Columbus, 
and  the  celestial  explorations  of  Copernicus  having  as  yet  aroused 
the  suspicion  in  only  a  few  alert  minds  that  Ptolemy's  doctrine  rested 
on  a  fallacy — Leonardo  maintained  that  the  earth  is  round,  and 
showed  that  at  a  distance  of  fourteen  miles  at  sea,  a  man's  body  is 
hidden,  owing  to  the  earth's  curving  surface  ;  the  distance  is  incor- 
rect, but  the  fact  of  sphericity  has  long  been  undisputed.  Still  more 
daring  appears  his  assertion  that  "the  earth  is  not  situated  in  the 
middle  of  the  sun's  orbit,  still  less  at  the  centre  of  the  universe," 
when  we  remember  that  the  Church  persecuted  more  than  one  man 
of  science  for  hazarding  this  assertion,  and  that  even  to-day,  the  ma- 
jority of  otherwise  intelligent  persons,  are  unwilling  to  relinquish  the 
flattering  tradition  which  ascribes  pre-eminent  importance  to  our 
planet,  and  to  ourselves  as  its  inhabitants. 

Several  maps  designed  by  Leonardo,  and  preserved  in  his  "  Co- 

% 

*  Hdmboldt,  Cosmos,  IV,  483. 


LEONARDO  DA  VINCI  A  PIONEER  IN   SCIENCE.  523 

dice  Atlantico,"  illustrate  his  geographical  range  :  to  them  we  may 
add  topographical  plans  of  many  parts  of  Italy  where  he  was  en- 
gaged in  engineering.  During  his  life-time  he  was  best  known  as 
an  engineer — always  excepting  his  renown  as  an  artist — and  as  an 
engineer  his  name  is  still  familiar  to  many  who  have  no  definite  no- 
tion of  the  versatility  of  his  genius.  All  travellers  have  seen  speci- 
mens at  Milan  of  his  mechanical  drawings,  and  have  been  told  that 
the  canal  system  perfected  by  him  still  supplies  Lombardy  with 
water.  The  Martesana  canal  had  already  been  partly  excavated 
when  he  took  charge  of  it  ;  but  he  invented  the  locks  which  are  still 
in  use,  and  which  superseded  the  clumsier  Saracenic  gates  previ- 
ously employed.  He  proposed  a  method  for  draining  the  marshes 
of  Piombino  ;  he  drew  a  plan  for  changing  the  course  of  the  Arno 
by  means  of  a  canal,  which  has  subsequently  been  carried  out ;  he 
made  sketches,  when  in  France,  for  the  so-called  Romorontin  canal ; 
he  devised  a  big  auger  for  boring  artesian  wells  ;  he  proposed  to 
fertilise  the  sterile  plains  of  Prato  and  Pistoja  by  collecting  vegetable 
slime  or  muck  in  reservoirs,  and  applying  it  to  the  soil.  When  but 
yet  a  youth,  he  offered  to  raise  the  Baptistery  at  Florence,  in  order 
that  its  foundations  might  be  strengthened  and  heightened  :  his  pro- 
ject, then  laughed  at  as  well-nigh  crazy,  has  been  commonly  adopted 
in  our  American  cities  during  the  past  twenty  years,  and  the  raising 
or  removing  of  huge  buildings  no  longer  excites  our  wonder.  He 
understood  also  the  art  of  tunnelling.  Among  his  drawings  we  find 
a  device  "by  which  a  stream  not  navigable,  either  by  reason  of  too 
little  depth,  or  from  liability  to  failure  in  time  of  drought,  may  be 
made  useful,  by  dividing  it  into  sections  by  diagonal  dams  provided 
at  the  small  angle  with  locks."  Derricks,  furnished  with  automatic 
dumping-hods,  like  those  now  used,  for  excavating  canals,  are  drawn 
and  described  by  him,  as  well  as  a  machine  for  raising  water  from  a 
stream  to  the  top  of  a  tower  by  means  of  Archimedean  screws. 

"  Mechanics,"  said  Leonardo,  "  is  the  paradise  of  mathematical 
sciences."  He  invented  more  than  thirty  kinds  of  mills.  He  made 
files  by  machinery,  and  made  machines  for  sawing  marble,  for  spin- 
ning, for  shearing  the  nap  of  cloth,  for  planing  iron,  for  making 
vises,  saws,  and  planes,  and  for  erecting  marble  columns — according 


524 


THE  MONIST. 


to  a  principle  recently  followed  in  setting  up  Cleopatra's  Needle  on 
the  Thames  Embankment.  Suction  and  force-pumps,  water-wheels, 
and  hydraulic  presses  were  also  constructed  by  him.  He  experi- 
mented in  the  distillation  of  oils  and  poisonous  vapors  to  be  used  in 
warfare.  In  some  of  his  sketches  boats  furnished  with  paddle-wheels 
are  seen  ;  in  others,  we  find  a  diver's  apparatus,  with  glass  eyes  and 
a  tube  for  air,  but  no  air-pump.  Among  his  other  inventions  may 
be  mentioned  a  proportional  compass,  similar  to  that  invented  by 
Burgi  in  1603,  and  still  known  to  engineers;  a  surgical  probe,  hav- 
ing longitudinal  sections,  and  a  screw  for  expanding  the  mouth  of 
the  wound  ;  a  gold-beater's  hammer  ;  a  machine  for  tilling  the  earth 
by  the  wind's  agency;  cranes,  windlasses,  and  plummets.  But  the 
most  important  of  all,  if  we  judge  by  the  labor  it  has  saved  and  by 
its  universal  adoption  in  Europe  and  America,  is  the  wheelbarrow, 
which  the  French  long  attributed  to  Pascal.  It  would  be  tedious 
to  ennumerate  all  the  suggestions  and  contrivances  which  have  al- 
ready been  discovered  from  Leonardo's  only  partially  edited  manu- 
scripts, but  a  few  more  must  be  recorded,  in  order  to  show  that  his 
incessant  ingenuity  busied  itself  not  less  with  the  smallest  than  with 
the  largest  inventions.  Among  devices  directly  applicable  to  the 
commonplace  needs  of  life  are  an  automatic  turn-spit,  or  roasting- 
jack  ;  a  door-latch  ;  a  three-legged  stool  for  artists  ;  a  color-grinder, 
and  a  hood  for  chimneys. 

In  the  fifteenth  century  even  the  best-informed  men  had  but  the 
meagrest  knowledge  of  hydrostatics,  a  science  to  which  Leonardo 
devoted  himself,  and  of  which  he  deduced  many  of  the  principles 
from  his  personal  observations.  "  The  gravity  of  liquids, "he  wrote, 
"  is  twofold  :  that,  namely  by  which  the  whole  mass  tends  towards 
the  centre  of  the  elements,  and  that  which,  tending  towards  the  cen- 
tre of  the  mass,  creates  the  sphericity  of  water  :  but  of  this  latter 
quality  I  see  no  method  by  human  intellect  to  give  a  clear  explana- 
tion, other  than  by  saying  that,  even  as  the  loadstone  attracts  the 
iron,  so  this  virtue  is  a  hidden  property,  of  which  infinite  numbers 
exist  in  nature."  He  studied  the  evaporation  of  water  at  different 
altitudes  ;  he  studied  also  the  motion  of  eddies.  He  anticipated 
Newton  in  explaining  the  motion  of  waves,  which  he  compared  to 


LEONARDO  DA  VINCI  A  PIONEER  IN   SCIENCE.  525 

that  of  wind  in  a  cornfield  ;  as  the  corn  bends,  but  does  not  leave 
its  place,  so  waves  pass  over  the  surface,  but  the  water  remains.  He 
threw  into  the  water  a  straw  tied  to  a  stone,  by  which  it  was  quickly 
seen  how  the  straw  rose  and  fell.  He  pointed  out  that  waves  recede 
in  a  circle  from  the  centre  of  agitation.  Perceiving  that  drops  of 
water  are  mutually  attracted  and  coalesce  into  larger  drops,  he  ar- 
gued that  rain-drops  are  largest  when  they  reach  the  ground.  His 
numerous  experiments  with  siphons  taught  him,  among  other  things, 
the  specific  gravity  of  liquids  ;  and  having  observed  that  cotton  ab- 
sorbs moisture,  he  constructed  a  balance  with  cotton  on  one  side 
and  wax  on  the  other,  in  order  to  know  when  stormy  weather  threat- 
ened :  this  was  the  first  hygrometer. 

From  the  study  of  the  exterior  of  the  human  body,  Leonardo 
was  naturally  led  to  the  study  of  its  anatomy;  and  in  this  he  soon 
advanced  beyond  the  scanty  knowledge  of  his  time,  and  explored 
new  regions  so  thoroughly  that  subsequent  investigators  have  been 
able  but  to  confirm  his  discoveries.  Anatomy  was  then  a  budding 
science.  The  little  which  European  physicians  knew  about  it  dur- 
ing the  Middle  Age,  they  derived  from  the  Arabs  ;  but  these  were 
forbidden  by  their  religion  to  dissect  bodies,  so  that  a  true  under- 
standing of  anatomical  laws  could  not  be  reached.  About  the  be- 
ginning of  the  fourteenth  century  Mondino  de'  Luzzi  (died  in  1326) 
dissected  three  bodies  ;  but  he  and  his  immediate  followers,  Zerbi, 
Achilli,  Sylvius,  Massa,  and  others,  sought  merely  to  confirm  the 
dogmas  of  Galen,  and  not  to  establish  truth  by  an  unprejudiced 
reference  to  nature ;  so  that  when  their  experiments  failed  to  con- 
firm Galen,  they  set  it  aside  as  fallacious  and  worthless.  But  when 
the  authority  of  the  Greek  physician  began  to  wane,  the  first  prin- 
ciples of  modern  anatomy  were  arrived  at.  Foremost  among  the 
pioneers  was  Leonardo,  who  deserves  the  title  of  founder  of  the 
science  of  comparative  anatomy.  According  to  Vasari,  he  studied 
with  Marcantonio  della  Torre,  the  director  of  an  anatomical  school 
at  Pavia.  He  made  the  famous  division  of  animals  into  two  classes 
—those  which  have  their  skeleton  inside,  and  those  which  have  it 
outside.  He  scrutinised  minutely  the  movements  of  living  bodies, 
and  distinguished  the  voluntary  from  the  involuntary  muscles,  watch- 


526  THE  MONIST. 

ing  the  action  of  the  former  in  lifting,  drawing,  pushing,  swinging, 
throwing,  and  other  acts.  He  advised  his  rmpils,  if  they  would  ob- 
serve the  natural  working  of  the  involuntary  muscles,  to  go  among 
the  common  people,  whose  emotions — whether  of  joy  or  pain,  of 
anger  or  hate — paint  themselves  clearly  on  the  features  and  are  not 
hidden  behind  a  mask  of  propriety  or  restraint.  He  used  to  invite 
peasants  to  dine  with  him,  in  order  that  he  might  study  their  ex- 
pression, and,  according  to  a  well-known  anecdote,  he  sometimes 
followed  for  many  hours  a  stranger  whom  he  casually  met  in  the 
streets,  and  whose  countenance  interested  him.  Leonardo's  note- 
books abound  in  caricatures,  which  it  would  be  impossible  to  match  ; 
they  show  how  quick  he  was  to  detect  the  humorous  and  the  mon- 
strous hints  in  human  lineaments,  and  how  adept  he  was  in  giving 
them  that  prominence  which  is  the  basis  of  caricature.  While  work- 
ing on  the  statue  of  Sforza,  he  studied  the  anatomy  of  the  horse, 
and  in  his  experiments  for  flying-machines  he  dissected  birds  in  or- 
der to  discover  the  secret  of  flight.  In  1538,  Vesale  published  a 
work  on  anatomy  illustrated  by  many  drawings  which  resemble 
closely  those  found  at  Kensington  in  the  eighteenth  century;  for  a 
long  time  Titian  was  supposed  to  be  the  author  of  the  drawings  in 
Vesale's  book,  but  they  are  now  attributed  to  Leonardo,  and  prove 
beyond  dispute  the  breadth,  profundity,  and  accuracy  of  his  ana- 
tomical knowledge.*  Knox  declares  that  from  Leonardo's  design 
of  the  half-moon  shaped  traps  of  the  aorta  he  must  have  understood 
their  functions  and  thus  antedated  Harvey  by  a  century  in  tracing 
the  circulation  of  the  blood.  Hunter  says  :  "I  hold  Leonardo  as 
the  best  anatomist  and  physiologist  of  his  time  ;  he  and  his  pupils 
first  knew  how  to  awake  the  spirit  of  anatomical  studies."  The 
following  passage,  in  which  Leonardo  describes  his  method  of  pro- 
cedure, is  interesting  enough  to  be  quoted  :  "I  wish  to  demonstrate 
the  difference  among  a  man,  a  horse,  and  other  animals.  I  begin 
with  the  bones,  and  let  follow  next  all  those  muscles  which  are 
joined  without  tendons  to  two  bones ;  then  those  which  at  each  end 
or  at  one  end  are  provided  with  a  tendon.  I  place  the  anatomy  of 

*  The  Kensington  collection  comprises  235  folios  and  779  drawings. 


LEONARDO  DA  VINCI  A  PIONEER  IN  SCIENCE.  527 

the  bones  as  far  as  the  hip  for  this  purpose  and  show  the  different 
muscle-layers,  veins,  arteries,  nerves,  tendons,  and  bones ;  after- 
wards, however,  one  must  saw  through  them,  in  order  to  learn  their 
thickness." 

From  painting  and  anatomy  to  the  investigation  of  the  structure 
of  the  eye  and  to  optics  was  a  natural  step.  Optics  and  perspective 
were  interchangeable  terms  in  Leonardo's  time,  and  we  know  that 
he  intended  to  publish  a  separate  treatise  on  this  subject.  Some  of 
the  results  of  his  experiments  are  included  in  his  "Treatise  on 
Painting,"  but  by  far  the  greater  part  are  scattered  among  those 
thick  note-books  of  his,  from  which  an  encyclopaedia  might  almost 
be  compiled.  He  preceded  Cardanus  (1530)  and  Delia  Porta  (1558) 
in  the  discovery  of  the  camera  oscura,  and  Kircher  and  others  in  that 
of  the  megascope.  "Perspective,"  he  said,  "is  the  rudder  of 
painting,"  and  he  laid  down  the  rule  for  getting  correct  images  of 
bodies  seen  in  perspective  by  outlining  them  upon  an  intervening 
glass  plate,  whereby  he  anticipated  Albert  Diirer.  From  his  knowl- 
edge of  the  laws  of  vision  he  formulated  the  axiom  that  "a  painting 
can  never  be  as  clear  as  a  natural  scene,  for  in  nature  we  behold 
everything  with  two  eyes,  each  of  which  gets  a  little  different  view 
from  that  of  its  mate  " — a  fact  which  may  be  recommended  to  those 
painters  who  believe  that  the  aim  of  art  is  to  reproduce  nature  with 
servile  and  finical  minuteness.  To  Leonardo  has  also  been  attrib- 
uted the  invention  of  the  stereoscope — he  was  familiar,  at  least,  with 
its  principles — and  of  the  telescope.  He  knew  that  a  crystalline 
lens  produces  ocular  images.  "  I  assert,"  he  wrote,  "  that  the  crys- 
talline sphere  is  sufficient  to  convey  appearances  [or  images]  to  be 
received  into  man's  mind  ;  but  for  this  purpose  a  dark  place  is  nec- 
essary"— that  is,  a  camera  oscura.  He  showed  how  rays  of  light 
enter  the  eye  upside  down,  and  he  noted  that  the  pupil  of  the  eye 
dilates  in  the  dark  and  contracts  in  the  light,  and  that  nocturnal 
animals  are  peculiarly  sensitive  in  this  respect.  He  was  mistaken 
in  supposing  that  the  scintillation  of  the  stars  is  due  to  our  eye- 
lashes and  lids,  but  he  was  correct  in  stating  that  "images  are  re- 
tained in  the  eye  for  a  length  of  time  proportionate  to  the  luminosity 
of  the  body  by  which  they  are  caused."  He  mentioned  that  effect 


528  THE  MONIST. 

of  radiation  by  which  dark  bodies  on  a  light  ground,  and  light  bodies 
on  a  dark  ground,  appear  respectively  larger  and  smaller.  Libri 
claims  that  Leonardo  discovered  the  law  of  diffraction,  but  Black 
gives  the  credit  of  this  discovery  to  Grimaldi  (1665).  It  is  not  dis- 
puted, however,  that  Leonardo  preceded  Francesco  Maurolico  in 
observing  that  light,  in  passing  through  a  hole,  assumes  the  form  of 
the  object  from  which  it  is  radiated,  and  not  that  of  the  hole.  More- 
over, he  suggested  the  means  (first  applied  by  Bouguer  in  1729)  of 
measuring  the  intensity  of  light,  stating  the  problem  thus  :  "  Given 
two  opposite  shadows  produced  upon  a  single  object  between  two 
lights  of  double  power,  these  lights  being  of  equal  density;  to  dis- 
cover what  is  the  proportion  of  distances  between  the  lights  and  the 
object."  We  have  his  designs  for  convex,  concave,  spherical,  and 
parabolic  mirrors,  and  it  is  supposed  that  he  employed  concave 
glasses  in  chemical  analysis.  He  observed  the  bluish  shadows  pro- 
jected by  the  yellow  light  from  the  north  in  a  clear  sky  behind  vari- 
ous objects  ;  also,  that  an  object  in  front  of  an  opening  through 
which  we  look  with  both  eyes  may  be  invisible.  It  seems  almost 
certain  that  he  regarded  light  and  sound  as  being  produced  in  a 
similar  manner,  that  is,  by  a  series  of  waves. 

In  acoustics  his  researches  were  profitable.  By  studying  echoes 
he  concluded  that  sound  requires  a  constant  time  to  traverse  a  given 
distance.  "It  is  possible  to  know  by  the  ear  the  distance  of  thun- 
der," he  said,  "if  we  have  first  seen  the  lightning,  by  analogy  with 
the  echo."  He  recognised  that  the  action  of  wind  interferes  with 
the  velocity  of  sound.  Here  is  one  of  his  experiments  :  "A  blow 
given  to  a  bell  corresponds  with  and  will  communicate  motion  to  an- 
other and  similar  bell ;  the  string  of  a  lute  being  struck  will  reply  and 
give  motion  to  a  string  of  similar  tone  in  another  lute  ;  and  this  can 
be  rendered  visible  by  placing  a  straw  upon  the  string  of  the  second 
lute."  Of  another  acoustical  problem  he  said  :  "Is  the  sound  in  the 
hammer  or  in  the  anvil  ?  I  say  :  seeing  that  the  anvil  is  not  sus- 
pended it  cannot  resound  ;  but  the  hammer  resounds  from  the  leap 
it  makes  just  after  the  blow;  and  were  the  anvil  to  resound  ....  just 
as  a  bell,  no  matter  by  what  material  it  be  struck,  yields  the  same 
depth  of  tone,  so  would  the  anvil,  struck  by  no  matter  what  hammer. 


LEONARDO  DA  VINCI  A  PIONEER  IN   SCIENCE.  529 

If,  therefore,  you  hear  various  sounds  from  hammers  of  various  sizes, 
the  sound  proceeds  from  the  hammer  and  not  from  the  anvil." 

Among  what  we  may  call  the  vagaries  of  Leonardo's  scientific 
and  inventive  curiosity,  we  may  mention  designs » for  flying-ships, 
flying-men,  and  aerial  chairs  :  but,  should  the  secret  of  flight  ever 
be  discovered,  and  adapted  to  general  use,  it  may  turn  out  that  his 
experiments  were  not  so  fantastic  as  they  now  appear.  So,  too,  of 
his  proposition  to  walk  with  wooden  shoes  on  the  water.  In  his 
youth  he  was  fascinated  by  that  chimera — perpetual  motion — which 
still  had  a  potent  charm  for  investigators.  But  experience  taught 
him  wisdom  and  he  called  "sophistical"  the  arguments  of  those 
who  were  deluded  as  he  had  been.  "It  is  impossible,"  he  said,  "to 
create  by  any  instrument  a  movement  of  water  from  below  to  above, 
by  means  of  the  descent  of  which  it  shall  be  possible  to  raise  a  sim- 
ilar weight  of  water  to  the  height  from  which  this  descended." 

When  we  remember  that  four  hundred  years  ago  alchemy  had 
not  developed  into  the  science  of  chernistry,  nor  astrology  into  as- 
tronomy, and  that  fact  and  superstition  had  parted  company  in  but 
few  minds,  we  shall  realise  more  adequately  the  vigorous  independ- 
ence of  Leonardo,  who  boldly  cast  off  authority,  and  chose  reason 
and  nature  as  his  guides.  He  not  only  called  "sophistical"  the  at- 
tempt to  demonstrate  perpetual  motion,  and  ridiculed  those  who 
wasted  their  time  in  trying  to  square  the  circle,  but  he  also  de- 
nounced alchemists  as  "liars."  He,  too,  turned  his  insatiable  curi- 
osity to  fantastic  experiments,  in  order  to  make  sure  that  he  had 
overlooked  no  possible  entrance  into  the  mystery  of  the  universe  ; 
but  here,  as  elsewhere,  he  was  deceived  by  no  hallucinations,  and 
accepted  or  rejected  the  products  of  his  researches  according  to  the 
sole  standard  of  reason.  He  insists,  in  his  "Treatise  on  Painting," 
on  the  infallibility  of  nature,  "the  mistress  of  masters."  "A  pain- 
ter," he  says,  "ought  never  to  imitate  the  manner  of  any  other  ;  be- 
cause in  that  case  he  cannot  be  called  the  child,  but  the  grandchild, 
of  nature.  It  is  always  better  to  have  recourse  to  nature,  who  is  re- 
plete with  just  abundance  of  objects,  than  to  the  productions  of 
other  masters,  who  learnt  everything  from  her."  To  her,  therefore, 
he  went  in  quest  of  scientific  truth.  He  practised,  a  century  before 


530  THE   MONIST. 

Bacon,  that  inductive  method  which  now  obtains  among  all  men  of 
science.  He  preached  the  need  of  experiments.  "Experience  [or 
experiment]  never  deceives,  but  our  judgments  are  deceived,"  is  one 
of  his  maxims.  "If  then  you  ask  me,"  he  says,  "  'What  fruit  do 
your  rules  yield,  or  for  what  are  they  good?  '  I  reply  that  they  bridle 
investigators,  and  prevent  them  from  promising  impossibilities  to 
themselves  and  others,  and  from  being  rated  as  fools  or  cheats." 
Four  hundred  years  ago  Leonardo  rebuked  spiritualistic  frauds  in 
this  calm  fashion  :  "  There  cannot  be  a  voice  where  there  is  not  mo- 
tion and  percussion  of  air  :  there  cannot  be  a  percussion  of  this  air 
where  there  is  no  instrument ;  there  can  be  no  incorporeal  instru- 
ment. This  being  so,  a  spirit  can  have  neither  voice,  nor  form,  nor 
force,  and  if  it  takes  body,  it  cannot  penetrate  nor  .enter  where  the 
doors  are  locked.  And  if  any  one  should  say  through  air  collected 
and  packed  together  spirit  takes  bodies  of  various  forms,  and  through 
that  means  speaks  and  moves  forcibly,  to  him  I  reply  that  where 
there  are  not  nerves  and  borjes  force  cannot  be  exercised  in  any  mo- 
tion caused  by  the  pretended  spirits." 

Such  is  the  epitome  of  Leonardo's  discoveries — an  epitome  com- 
piled almost  wholly  from  the  reports  of  those  who  have  edited  one 
volume  alone  of  his  autograph  memoranda.  A  strange  fatality  has 
followed  those  manuscripts  of  his.  At  his  death,  he  bequeathed 
them  to  his  pupil  Francesco  Melzi,  who  took  them  back  from  France 
to  Milan.  There  they  were  soon  scattered,  and  no  one  could  deci- 
pher them  ;  for  Leonardo  wrote  backwards,  from  right  to  left.  It 
was  supposed  that  he  used  a  secret  script,  and  for  three  hundred 
years  nobody  succeeded  in  reading  it.  When  Napoleon  invaded 
Italy  he  carried  fourteen  of  these  folio  volumes  to  Paris,  where  they 
still  remain.  Others,  including  many  drawings,  are  in  England. 
One  volume,  the  so-called  "  Codice  Atlantico,"  is  preserved  at  Mi- 
lan ;  it  alone  has  been  carefully  studied,  and  in  part  transcribed  and 
photographed.  What  rich  ore  lies  buried  in  the  thousands  of  pages 
still  unedited,  may  be  inferred  from  what  has  already  been  brought 
to  light. 

To  the  accident  of  handwriting  is  due  the  long  ignorance  of  the 
world  of  Leonardo's  attainments  in  science  and  discovery.  Gen- 


LEONARDO  DA  VINCI  A  PIONEER  IN  SCIENCE.  53! 

erations  of  investigators,  unaware  of  his  work,  gradually  explored 
the  fields  which  he  had  traversed,  and  when  at  length  his  memor- 
anda were  deciphered,  science  had  in  many  directions  passed  beyond 
him.  Later  men  had  the  credit  of  his  forgotten  discoveries.  But 
the  inventory  of  those  discoveries  suffices  to  establish  his  claim  to 
rank  among  the  supreme  men  of  science  of  all  time.  Whatever  may 
be  the  relative  worth  of  any  one  of  his  investigations,  there  can  be 
no  dispute  as  to  the  absolute  quality  of  his  mind.  His  methods  are 
the  methods  of  experiment  and  observation  by  which  man  advances 
victoriously  into  the  mystery  which  wraps  him  round. 

Leonardo's  contemporaries  were  unprepared  to  appreciate  his 
scientific  accomplishment.  Even  recent  critics  have  deplored  that 
one  who  had  only  four  or  five  peers  in  art  should  waste  his  time  in 
scientific  inquiries.  He  lived  so  near  to  the  mediaeval  superstition 
that  his  insight  was  mistaken  for  wizardry,  and  his  researches  into 
the  properties  of  matter  seemed  whimsical  or  perverse.  Doubtless, 
the  incompleteness  and  multitude  of  his  investigations  hindered 
other  men  from  understanding  their  importance.  He  did  not  pub- 
lish his  discoveries  ;  he  did  not  even  arrange  them  in  formal  order  for 
demonstration.  Those  many  thick  volumes  are  but  note-books  in 
which  he  jotted  down  day  by  day  the  experiments  he  was  making, 
or  the  conclusions  and  axioms  he  had  reached,  in  many  subjects.  At 
the  outset,  he  probably  intended  to  collect  and  classify  these  vari- 
ous memoranda  in  separate  treatises,  but  the  revelations  came  so 
fast  that  he  had  barely  time  to  record  them. 

Had  Adam  been  created  at  night,  imagine  with  what  astonish- 
ment he  must  have  beheld  the  first  faint  dappling  of  dawn  !  How 
his  wonder  must  have  grown  as  the  East  became  rosy,  and  the  sun 
rolled  above  the  horizon,  and  from  some  unseen  source  light  was 
poured  through  the  heavens  and  flooded  the  earth  !  Forms  and  then- 
colors  emerged  from  the  darkness  ;  sounds — of  birds,  of  lisping  foli- 
age, the  hum  of  insects,  the  ripple  of  brook,  or  quieter  lapping  of 
stream — emerged  from  the  silence.  With  what  delight,  with  what 
unworn  curiosity  must  Adam  have  wandered  amid  this  pageant  and 
listened  to  this  music  :  everything  a  miracle,  untarnished  by  the 


532 


THE  MONIST. 


touch  of  any  yesterdays  ;  himself  unconscious  of  time  or  bound,  the 
personification  of  instant  and  immeasurable  wonder. 

To  Leonardo  the  world  unfolded  itself  in  almost  equal  fresh- 
ness, as  it  would  to  all  of  us  if  custom  did  not  dull  our  perception. 
It  was,  indeed,  a  new  world  !  The  mediaeval  has  looked  and  seen 
only  the  handiwork  of  Satan, — a  chaos  from  which  issued  spasmodic 
miracles  and  caprice — a  prison,  in  which  the  soul  was  detained  for 
a  few  mortal  years  before  it  flew  heavenwards.  Leonardo  looked 
upon  this  world  and  saw  in  it  a  divine  creation,  a  cosmos  of  law,  a 
home  every  nook  of  which  had  revelations  for  the  soul.  Like  the 
Scandinavian  god  who  could  hear  the  grass  grow,  his  senses  were 
preternaturally  keen.  He  penetrated  the  cuticle  of  things  ;  nature 
lay  transparent  to  his  gaze.  He  saw  the  ebb-and-flow  of  cause  and 
effect.  In  the  least  phenomenon  he  discerned  the  principle  linking 
it  to  a  class  ;  in  every  object,  in  every  creature  he  beheld  the  end  of 
a  clew  which  led  back  and  up  to  the  infinite.  Thus  almost  at  the 
beginning  of  the  new  age,  he  was  the  man  whom  Nature  took  into 
her  confidence.  To  him  she  granted  an  apocalyptic  vision  of  her 
secrets. 

Subsequent  investigators  have  gone  farther.  Every  acre  of  the 
domain  of  science  whose  hither  boundaries  he  explored,  is  now  oc- 
cupied by  a  specialist.  But  none  has  surpassed  him  in  the  highest 
qualities  of  a  man  of  science — patience  to  analyse  special  facts  with- 
out prejudice,  and  power  to  deduce  general  laws  after  having  accu- 
mulated sufficient  information.  His  were  the  qualities  and  the  meth- 
ods by  which  alone  mankind  are  slowly  rationalising  the  world  in 
which  we  live.  Less  than  any  other  man  who  died  before  our  century 
would  he  be  surprised  at  the  advance  in  science  and  at  the  mechanical 
inventions  of  which  we  boast ;  for  he  had,  what  many  men  think  they 
have,  but  have  not,  a  vivid  sense  of  the  infinitude  of  the  natural 
world  and  of  the  incalculable  possibilities  of  human  achievement. 
"What  is  that,"  he  asks,  "which  does  not  give  itself  to  human 
comprehension,  and  which,  if  it  did,  would  not  exist?  It  is  the  in- 
finite, which,  if  it  could  so  give  itself,  would  be  done  and  ended." 

CAMBRIDGE,  MASS.  WILLIAM  R.  THAYER. 


PHILOSOPHY  AND  INDUSTRIAL  LIFE. 

A  MONG  the  varied  activities  of  men  there  are  two  which  are 
-^~*-  often  brought  into  contrast  with  one  another.  These  are,  on 
the  one  hand,  the  practical  work,  which  is  embodied  mainly  in  in- 
dustrial products,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  such  purely  intellectual 
labor  as  is  represented  by  speculative  philosophy.  The  two  appear 
at  times  as  if  they  came  into  contact,  but  are  more  commonly  re- 
garded as  so  divergent  that  they  can  scarcely  have  any  interest  in 
common.  It  is,  therefore,  for  the  sake  of  both,  an  important  inquiry 
which  seeks  to  determine  the  real  relation  in  which  they  stand  to 
each  other.  That  relation  may  be  conceived  either  in  its  empirical 
aspect  as  a  matter  of  historical  fact,  or  in  its  logical  aspect  as  neces- 
sitated by  rational  law.  In  the  former  aspect  there  is  one  fact  which 
it  is  mainly  important  to  notice,  as  it  counteracts  a  common  preju- 
dice on  the  subject.  There  is  a  wide-spread  impression  that  indus- 
trial work  is  so  incompatible  with  philosophical  speculation,  that  the 
two  appear  almost  in  inverse  proportion  to  one  another.  But  the 
impression  is  founded  on  a  very  superficial  reading  of  history.  It  is 
to  a  large  extent  a  misinterpretation  of  facts  which  have  their  famil- 
iar origin  in  the  essential  limitations  of  human  power.  One  obvious 
result  of  this  limitation  is  found  in  the  fact,  that,  if  human  energy 
is  largely  discharged  in  one  direction,  it  must  to  a  corresponding 
extent  be  withdrawn  from  others.  But  beyond  this  inevitable  effect 
of  human  limitation,  there  is  nothing  in  national  history  to  counte- 
nance the  impression  that  industrial  activity  has,  in  the  experience 
of  any  community,  been  found  to  be  incompatible  with  the  philo- 
sophical spirit.  So  far  is  this  from  being  the  case,  the  real  fact  is 


534  THE  MONIST. 

that  philosophy  has  found  a  home  mainly  among  those  communi- 
ties and  those  sections  of  a  community,  in  which  industrial  enter- 
prise has  to  some  extent  expelled  the  spirit  and  the  ideals  of  a  purely 
militant  society. 

It  is  not  difficult  to  explain  this  fact.  In  the  relation  of  phi- 
losophy to  industrial  life,  as  in  the  relations  of  social  phenomena  in 
general,  each  may  be  viewed  as  alternately  cause  and  effect  :  in 
other  words,  the  dominating  category  is  that  of  reciprocal  action. 
Taking  philosophy,  in  the  first  instance,  as  an  effect,  it  is  obvious 
that  industrial  activity,  and  industrial  activity  alone,  provides  the 
external  conditions  that  are  necessary  for  the  development  of  the 
philosophical  spirit.  A  militant  society,  almost  of  necessity,  absorbs 
the  entire  energy  of  its  members  in  the  struggle  for  existence.  For 
either  it  must  depend  on  the  precarious  supply  to  be  obtained  by 
plundering  its  neighbors,  or  it  must  wring  from  nature  the  means  of 
subsistence  by  such  primitive  industries  as  the  militant  condition 
allows,  and  then  protect  these  from  the  rapacity  of  neighbors  that 
live  by  plunder.  In  either  case  the  mere  maintenance  of  society  will 
be  its  supreme — its  almost  exclusive — concern.  On  the  other  hand, 
an  industrial  society,  to  the  extent  to  which  industrialism  supplants 
military  enterprise,  tends  to  create  that  accumulated  wealth,  which 
relieves  it  from  the  incessant  pressure  of  the  struggle  for  existence, 
and  enables  it  to  set  apart  some  of  its  members  for  that  leisurely 
reflexion  on  the  meaning  of  life,  of  which  the  products  are  philos- 
ophy and  science  and  art.  It  may  be  added  that  the  industrial  spirit 
encourages  also  those  internal  conditions  of  thought  and  sentiment, 
which  are  favorable  to  philosophical  activity. 

If,  on  the  other  hand,  philosophy  is  viewed  as  a  cause,  then  it 
is  obvious  that,  not  only  in  its  general  influence  upon  the  human 
mind,  but  also  by  the  special  character  of  that  influence,  it  is  as 
favorable  to  the  industrial  spirit  as  this  is  to  it.  For  not  only  does 
the  general  habit  of  reflexion  tend  to  cultivate  those  peaceful  sen- 
timents which  are  essential  to  the  success  and  the  continuance  of 
industrial  activity,  but  this  activity  is  rendered  all  the  more  success- 
ful especially  by  reflecting  on  the  ultimate  significance  and  end  of 
existence,  inasmuch  as  the  conception  of  that  end  must  give  a  clearer 


PHILOSOPHY  AND  INDUSTRIAL  LIFE.  535 

direction   to  all  the  aims  of  human  exertion,  and  therefore  to  the 
special  aims  of  industrial  life. 

We  are  thus,  however,  already  carried  beyond  a  purely  empirical 
view  of  the  relation  between  philosophy  and  industrial  work  :  for  not 
only  do  we  thus  see  how  industrialism  is  not  inimical  to  philosophy, 
but  we  see  philosophy  repaying  industrialism  for  its  friendly  ser- 
vices by  opening  wider  and  clearer  views  of  its  aims,  giving  to  these 
something  better  than  the  mere  impulses  of  the  instinctive  struggle 
for  existence,  directing  them  to  their  proper  end  by  the  guidance  of 
reason.  Accordingly  we  are  led  to  inquire,  what  is  the  result  of 
turning  the  light  of  philosophical  reflexion  upon  the  aims  of  indus- 
trial life,  or,  in  other  words,  what  is  the  view  of  those  aims,  which 
such  reflexion  suggests.  Philosophy,  being  necessarily  occupied 
with  the  ultimate  meaning  and  purpose  of  existence,  must,  when 
reflected  upon  industrial  life,  endeavor  to  grasp  the  supreme  end  to 
which  the  particular  aims  of  industrialism  are  subservient,  as  well 
as  the  means  by  which  industrialism  endeavors  to  reach  that  end. 


The  end  of  industrial  life.  It  ought  to  go  without  saying,  that 
the  supreme  end  of  industrial  activity,  must  be  identical  with  that 
of  all  activity  :  and  yet  the  fact  is  one  that  is  but  imperfectly  recog- 
nised, or  its  significance  is  but  imperfectly  understood.  The  fact 
is,  indeed,  strikingly  indicated  by  the  common  language  of  indus- 
trial life,  which  has  been  adopted  by  economical  science.  Prevalent 
phraseology  describes  industrial  life  as  occupied  with  the  production 
and  distribution  of  wealth,  and  this  accordingly  is  said  to  form  the 
subject  of  scientific  economics :  but  even  scientific  explanations  of 
this  language  are  often  extremely  imperfect,  when  they  are  not  mis- 
leading. The  term  wealth,  by  its  very  etymology,  indicates  that  it 
properly  denotes  the  condition  of  weal,  of  well-being.  It  is  true 
that,  in  its  ordinary  use  it  is  applied  rather  to  external  things  than 
to  an  internal  state,  and  we  must  of  course  continue  to  accept  es- 
tablished usage  as  the  criterion  of  propriety  in  the  application  of 
the  term.  But  if  the  term  is  not  to  be  abused  by  a  vagueness  which 


536  THE  MONIST. 

empties  it  of  all  serviceable  significance,  it  must  be  applied  to  those 
phenomena  which  form  the  external  conditions  of  human  weal. 

This  is  more  or  less  clearly  implied  in  all  the  scientific  defini- 
tions of  wealth.  For  in  every  such  definition  it  is  recognised  with 
but  slight  variation  of  language,  that,  in  order  to  make  any  article 
a  factor  of  wealth,  it  must  possess  the  attribute  which  is  technically 
known  as  utility  :  and  utility  is  always  explained  to  mean  the  adap- 
tation of  the  article  to  satisfy  some  human  want.  The  very  terminol- 
ogy thus  adopted,  however,  shows  that  the  industrial  aspect  of 
wealth  inevitably  runs  over  into  the  ethical,  and  that  nothing  but  an 
incomplete  analysis  can  countenance  the  practice,  which  has  been 
common  in  the  political  economy  of  the  earlier  part  of  this  century, 
— the  practice  of  drawing  an  absolute  line  of  demarcation  between 
economical  and  ethical  problems.  Again  and  again  we  are  told  in 
the  literature  of  this  period,  that  the  science  of  economics  can  view 
things  merely  on  the  side  of  their  utility,  and  that  their  utility  means 
merely  that  they  can  satisfy  any  of  the  wants  of  men.  Many  ar- 
ticles, it  is  admitted,  are  applied  to  the  gratification  of  petty  vani- 
ties or  even  gross  animal  passions.  It  is  regretted  that  men  should 
indulge  degrading  wants.  Economical  science  does  not  deny  the 
moral  aspect  of  things,  or  under-estimate  its  importance.  It  simply 
asserts  that  the  economical  is  not  the  moral  aspect.  It  maintains 
that,  as  long  as  men  cultivate  degrading  wants,  they  will  seek  the 
objects  by  which  these  are  gratified,  they  will  give  their  labor  and 
other  valuable  things  in  exchange  for  those  objects,  and  such  ob- 
jects will  thus,  by  their  utility,  possess  economical  value. 

All  this  reasoning,  it  required  no  very  stoical  morality  to  avoid. 
The  moralists  of  the  utilitarian  school  were  sufficient  to  have  taught 
the  utilitarian  economists  a  nobler,  as  well  as  a  more  philosophical, 
conception  of  utility.  For  the  utilitarian  moralists,  while  giving  to 
utility  a  definition  essentially  identical  with  that  of  the  economists, 
interpret  the  definition  with  a  truer,  because  a  far  wider,  view  of  its 
implications.  To  the  moralist,  as  to  the  economist,  utility  is  the 
power  of  affording  gratification  :  but  in  general  the  moralist  refuses 
to  admit  that  the  meaning  of  this  definition  can  be  fully  understood 
without  taking  into  view  the  nature  of  the  gratifications  that  are 


PHILOSOPHY  AND   INDUSTRIAL  LIFE.  537 

sought.  Even  for  the  individual  an  action  cannot  be  said  to  have 
real  utility  merely  because  it  gives  gratification  for  the  moment. 
The  real  gratification  of  any  human  being  must  be  the  gratification 
derived  from  life  as  a  whole  :  and  the  utility,  that  is,  the  goodness, 
of  an  action,  even  for  the  individual  agent,  can  therefore  never  be 
calculated  without  reference  to  its  motives  and  consequences.  Ac- 
cordingly, nearly  all  utilitarian  moralists,  from  Epicurus  down  to 
John  Stuart  Mill,  have  maintained  that  our  happiness  is  derived, 
not  so  much  from  the  feelings  of  the  moment,  as  from  the  fact  that 

"  We  look  before  and  after, 
And  pine  for  what  is  not." 

But  if  this  is  the  case  even  when  the  question  is  limited  to  the  indi- 
vidual, it  must  be  much  more  obvious  when  the  view  is  extended  to 
society.  Not  only  is  it  absurd  to  seek  the  happiness  of  certain  mem- 
bers or  classes  without  regard  to  the  rest,  but  the  genuine  happiness 
of  every  community  must  imply  some  security  for  -its  permanence. 
In  general  also  utilitarian  moralists  have  endeavored  to  show, — 
with  what  success,  need  not  be  discussed, — that  the  happiness  of 
the  individual,  when  completely  analysed,  must  be  identical  with 
that  of  society. 

These  considerations  have  not  indeed  been  overlooked  wholly 
by  economical  writers,  or  overlooked  by  them  all  :  but  it  is  rare  to 
find,  among  the  predominant  school  of  economists  in  the  earlier  half 
of  this  century,  a  clear  and  steady  recognition  of  the  scientific  truth, 
that  the  utility,  upon  which  the  economical  value  of  a  commodity 
depends,  must  involve  implications  essentially  similar  to  those  which 
characterise  the  utility  that  is  supposed  to  determine  the  moral  value 
of  an  action.  If  the  utility,  which  makes  an  action  morally  good, 
must  calculate  the  happiness  of  an  individual's  whole  life,  and  even 
the  happiness  of  the  whole  community  to  which  he  belongs,  then, 
by  parity  of  reasoning,  the  utility,  which  ranks  a  commodity  among 
the  economical  goods  of  mankind,  which  makes  a  commodity  a  real 
constituent  of  wealth,  must  point  to  a  happiness  of  the  same  wide 
range.  It  is  the  oversight  of  this  reasoning  that  originates  many 
shallow  popular  illusions  with  regard  to  the  economical  value  of 
reckless  extravagance  and  vicious  indulgences,  which  stimulate  the 


538 


THE   MONIST. 


production  of  certain  commodities,  and  thus  enable  the  producers 
to  obtain  from  the  wages  of  their  labor  the  means  of  subsistence.  It 
is  true  that  it  has  become  a  common-place  among  economical  wri- 
ters to  distinguish  productive  and  unproductive  consumption  :  but 
the  familiarity  of  this  distinction  has  not  prevented  even  economists 
from  overlooking  at  times  its  full  significance.  Consumption  very 
often  gets  the  credit  of  being  productive  if  it  results  in  any  material 
product  which  is  exchangeable  in  the  markets  of  the  world,  even 
though  the  product  may  be  adapted,  while  giving  momentary  pleas- 
ure, to  impair  the  general  happiness  and  productive  power  of  its 
consumers,  or  even  though  it  may  be  adapted,  like  the  instruments 
of  warfare,  to  destroy  wealth.  Thus  the  impression  is  gathered  from 
some  economical  treatises,  that  a  million  gallons  of  whisky  may  be 
entered  upon  the  inventory  of  a  nation's  wealth  equally  with  a  mil- 
lion barrels  of  flour,  or  that  a  million  rifles  make  up  the  genuine 
wealth  of  the  world  equally  with  a  million  reaping  machines.  Unless 
this  distinction  is  maintained  in  all  its  purport,  not  only  is  a  color 
given  to  the  illusions  of  vulgar  thought,  but  there  is  no  escape  from 
the  extravagant  theory  of  the  "Fable  of  the  Bees."  The  very  ex- 
travagance of  this  famous  book  has  led  some  critics — I  think,  with- 
out reason — to  look  upon  it  as  a  bit  of  irony  :  but  the  essentially 
comical  character  of  its  extravagance  makes  it,  whether  intention- 
ally or  not,  an  ironical  reductio  ad  absurdum  of  the  idea  that  real 
wealth  can  be  made  up  of  articles  which  are  inimical  to  the  real, 
that  is,  the  moral,  well  being  of  a  community. 

These  remarks  have  been  based  designedly  on  the  utilitarian 
interpretation  of  the  moral  life,  not  from  any  desire  to  estimate  the 
value  of  that  interpretation,  but  simply  because  the  language  of 
utilitarian  ethics  is  so  naturally  suggested  by  that  of  economical 
writers.  The  whole  reasoning  of  these  remarks,  however,  is  inde- 
pendent on  any  peculiar  ethical  theory  :  and  probably  most  think- 
ers would  acknowledge  that  the  reasoning  gains  force  by  the  aban- 
donment of  utilitarianism.  It  thus  appears  that,  on  any  ethical 
theory,  philosophy  will  not  allow  an  absolute  separation  of  the  in- 
dustrial from  the  moral  life  of  man,  and  that  the  wealth,  which  in- 
dustry is  occupied  in  producing,  -can,  if  genuine,  be  merely  the  sum 


PHILOSOPHY  AND  INDUSTRIAL  LIFE.  539 

of  those  external  or  material  conditions  which  are  essential  and  favorable 
to  morality. 

n. 

The  method  or  means  of  attaining  the  end  of  industrial  life.  Wealth 
can  be  accumulated  only  in  proportion  as  it  is  produced  at  the  least 
possible  cost,  and  distributed  with  the  least  possible  waste  :  that  is 
to  say,  the  economical  production  and  distribution  of  wealth  form 
the  method  or  means  of  attaining  the  end  of  industrial  life.  Accord- 
ingly the  production  and  distribution  of  wealth  form  also  the  main 
subjects  of  economical  science.  Here  again,  however,  as  in  the 
definition  of  wealth  itself,  the  spirit  of  philosophy  may  fairly  be 
called  in  to  enlarge  the  conceptions  with  which  the  science  of  econ- 
omy deals. 

Thus,  to  begin  with,  production  and  distribution  are  very  often 
separated  with  that  sharpness  of  discrimination  which  is  engen- 
dered and  sometimes  even  enforced  by  the  limitation  of  view  char- 
acteristic of  scientific  specialism,  but  which  is  apt  to  be  blurred,  if 
not  obliterated,  in  the  vaster  sweep  of  the  philosophical  mind,  seek- 
ing the  unification  of  all  knowledge.  It  is  impossible  to  explain 
production  satisfactorily,  as  wholly  independent  of  distribution. 
For,  apart  from  other  considerations,  if  an  undue  proportion  of  the 
wealth  produced  in  any  community  finds  its  way  into  the  hands  of 
unproductive  consumers,  then  the  productive  power  of  the  com- 
munity is  crippled,  not  only  by  the  want  of  capital,  but  also  by  the 
fact  that  a  large  proportion  of  the  productive  laborers  are  poorly 
fed,  poorly  clad,  poorly  housed,  poorly  provided  with  the  means  of 
moral  and  intellectual  training,  so  that  their  energy  as  producers  is 
seriously  impaired.  This  has  always  been  in  the  past,  and  con- 
tinues to  be  at  present,  the  chronic  condition  even  of  the  most  ad- 
vanced industrial  nations,  and  it  forms  one  of  the  principal  causes 
which  prevent  the  world  from  producing  the  wealth  that  it  might 
otherwise  enjoy.  Even,  therefore,  for  the  production  of  wealth,  a 
community  cannot  be  indifferent  to  its  distribution  ;  and,  as  a  mat- 
ter of  fact,  the  undefined  usages,  as  well  as  the  definite  laws,  of  all 
countries,  have  been  largely  concerned  with  the  distribution  of  their 
wealth. 


54° 


THE  MONIST. 


It  will  probably  be  allowed  that  the  general  thought,  of  which 
such  social  regulations  are  an  outgrowth,  is  the  idea  of  a  right  which 
a  man  acquires  over  any  product  of  nature,  when  by  his  labor  he 
communicates  to  it  a  utility  which  without  his  labor  it  would  not 
have  possessed.  Even  in  communities  of  the  rudest  militant  type, 
regulated  mainly  by 

"  The  simple  plan, 

That  they  should  take  who  have  the  power, 
And  they  should  keep  who  can," 

there  appears  at  times  a  dim  conception  of  the  right  which  a  man 
acquires  to  the  fruits  of  his  labor,  though  the  conception  is  per- 
versely applied  to  labor  which  deprives  another  of  the  same  right. 
At  all  events  it  is  this  right  which  civilised  jurisprudence  has  en- 
deavored to  bring  into  ever  clearer  recognition  :  and  what  philoso- 
phy has  to  demand  of  economics  is,  that  it  shall  not  inculcate  any 
industrial  arrangement  of  society  which  is  incompatible  with  the  full 
recognition  of  this  right.  For  philosophy,  as  the  unification  of  all 
knowledge,  the  harmony  of  all  the  sciences,  cannot  admit  that  to  be 
true  in  one  science  which  is  untrue  in  another.  Accordingly  the 
economical  aims  of  society  cannot  be  philosophically  represented  as 
out  of  harmony  with  the  aims  which  are  posited  by  jurisprudence 
and  ethics  :  in  other  words,  the  production  of  the  aggregate  wealth 
of  any  community  cannot  be  conceived  to  be  independent  on  its 
equitable  distribution  among  the  individual  members. 

Accordingly  it  becomes  an  economical  problem  to  devise  a 
method  by  which  the  aggregate  wealth  produced  in  a  community 
shall  be  equitably  distributed  among  the  producers,  even  though 
economical  science  may  state  the  problem  as  seeking  a  method  by 
which  the  aggregate  wealth  produced  may  be  so  distributed  as  most 
efficiently  to  promote  further  production.  In  the  solution  of  the 
problem  the  economical  theories  predominant  in  the  early  part  of 
this  century,  went  almost  exclusively  in  the  direction  of  abolishing 
all  restrictions  upon  individual  freedom  :  and  the  function  of  the 
State  in  relation  to  industrial  life  was  confined  to  restraining  indi- 
viduals from  interfering  with  the  freedom  of  each  other.  It  is  not 
difficult  to  trace  the  origin  of  this  movement.  It  was  but  a  ripple 


PHILOSOPHY  AND  INDUSTRIAL  LIFE.  54! 

on  a  great  wave  of  thought  and  life,  which  was  already  flowing  in 
.full  tide  towards  the  middle  of  last  century,  and  before  the  century 
closed  had,  in  the  irresistible  sweep  of  the  American  and  European 
revolutions,  borne  down  the  barriers  erected  to  stem  its  progress. 
The  fundamental  idea  of  this  movement  was  an  interpretation  of 
the  old  Stoical  concept  of  the  state  of  nature.  According  to  this  in- 
terpretation man,  as  well  as  every  other  being,  is  conceived  as 
adapted,  by  the  very  constitution  of  his  nature,  to  promote  his  own 
welfare  ;  so  that  to  secure  that  welfare  nothing  is  required  but  to 
allow  his  nature  free  play  by  emancipating  it  from  the  artificial  re- 
strictions by  which  its  full  development  is  impeded.  It  is  not  neces- 
sary to  illustrate  the  application  of  this  concept,  for  example,  to  the 
education  of  the  individual  in  the  startling  novelties  of  Rousseau's 
"Emile,"  and  to  the  constitution  of  society  in  the  equally  startling 
paradoxes  of  his  essay  on  the  origin  of  inequalities  among  men. 
The  great  literary  enthusiasm,  which  emancipated  literature  from 
the  fetters  of  a  rigid  and  often  frigid  classicism  by  the  outburst  of  a 
fervid  and  sometimes  eccentric  romanticism,  was  an  inspiration  of 
the  same  movement. 

It  was  the  ideas  of  this  movement  applied  to  industrial  life  that 
originated  the  demand  for  freedom  of  trade ;  and  in  view  of  the  in- 
dustrial condition  of  the  world  at  the  time  such  a  demand  was  not 
only  intelligible,  but  irresistible  by  any  rational  thought.  In  some 
countries,  such  as  France,  it  is  difficult  to  understand  how  industry 
of  any  kind  continued  to  survive  under  the  innumerable  oppressions 
of  a  mediaeval  thraldom  which  seem  as  if  they  had  been  designed  to 
crush  it  out  of  existence.  But  even  in  Great  Britain,  though  its 
comparative  political  freedom  made  it  the  admiration  of  the  conti- 
nental liberals,  industrial  life  was  fettered  by  restrictions  which  not 
only  checked  the  manufacturing  and  mercantile  enterprise  of  its  own 
people,  but  originated  the  calamitous  differences  with  its  colonies, 
and  much  of  the  calamitous  discontent  of  Ireland. 

But  Rousseau's  conception  of  a  state  of  nature,  which  logically 
leads  to  the  abolition  of  all  restrictions  upon  the  industrial  freedom 
of  the  individual,  is  philosophically  as  untenable  as  the  opposite 
conception  of  Hobbes,  which,  by  a  characteristic  logic,  associated 


542 


THE  M  ON  I  ST. 


itself  with  the  most  extreme  absolutism  in  ecclesiastical  as  well  as 
in  political  organisation.  The  truth  is,  as  has  been  shown  in  many 
a  literary  phenomenon  from  Proudhon  to  Count  Tolstoi,  the  theory 
of  Rousseau  cannot  stop  short  of  an  absolute  nihilism  or  anarchism, 
which  denies  the  right  of  any  social  authority  to  restrict  the  action 
of  individuals.  Consequently,  in  its  application  to  industrial  life, 
demanding,  as  it  does,  an  unlimited  industrial  freedom,  the  theory 
becomes  unthinkable,  that  is,  self-contradictory,  under  a  complete 
analysis.  For,  while  assuming  that,  if  men  are  left  to  their  natural 
impulses  unchecked  by  any  artificial  restrictions  of  society,  they  will 
certainly  seek  and  find  their  true  welfare,  it  stands  face  to  face  with 
the  fact,  that  unrestricted  liberty  of  industrial  competition,  instead 
of  bringing  about  an  effective,  peaceful  co-operation  among  indus- 
trial workers,  has  actually  realised  a  bellum  omnium  contra  omnes, 
which  seems  to  illustrate  the  theory  of  Hobbes  rather  than  that  of 
Rousseau  with  regard  to  the  natural  state  of  man.  Now,  without 
attempting  even  to  hint  at  the  manifold  problems  which  this  sub- 
ject suggests,  it  is  obvious  that,  under  all  its  aspects,  the  individual 
must  be  treated,  not  as  a  solitary,  but  as  essentially  a  member  of 
society,  forced  into  innumerable  relations  with  his  fellow-men.  This 
is  peculiarly  evident  in  industrial  life.  Here  we  see  in  its  most 
striking  forms  that  division  of  labor  which,  from  the  time  of  Plato, 
has  been  recognised  as  the  essential  factor  of  political  organisation. 
But  the  result  of  dividing  industrial  labor  among  the  different  mem- 
bers of  the  community  is,  that,  as  a  rule,  no  individual  produces  all 
the  necessaries  even  of  his  own  existence,  and  that  therefore  he 
would  be  left  in  partial  destitution  if  he  could  not  supply  his  wants 
from  the  surplus  products  of  the  labor  of  others  in  exchange  for  the 
surplus  products  of  his  own.  The  complications  of  this  industrial 
exchange,  with  the  complications  of  divided  labor  from  which  they 
arise,  form  a  familiar  commonplace  in  social  science,  but  a  common- 
place which  it  is  extremely  difficult  to  realise  fully  in  imagination. 
Now,  the  theory  of  unrestricted  individualism  contends  that  all  these 
complicated  processes,  in  which  the  members  of  a  community  co- 
operate for  the  production  and  distribution  of  their  wealth,  can  be 
most  effectively  carried  on  if  each  individual  is  left  to  act  unfettered 


PHILOSOPHY  AND  INDUSTRIAL  LIFE.  543 

by  any  restrictions  of  social  authority.  But  the  whole  movement 
of  industrial  life  contradicts  this  contention.  It  is  true,  as  already 
remarked,  that  industrial  success  demanded  the  emancipation  of 
industry  from  burdensome  regulations  and  taxes  which  were  never 
calculated  to  encourage  productive  enterprise.  But  restrictions  of 
this  nature  must  be  distinguished  from  those  which  are  simply  the 
requirements  of  such  concerted  action  as  is  necessary  for  efficiency 
in  the  production,  and  equity  in  the  distribution,  of  wealth.  For 
the  progress  of  industrial  life,  with  its  ever-increasing  complications, 
is  rendering  it  more  and  more  evidently  impossible  either  for  pro- 
ducers or  for  distributers  to  fulfil  their  social  functions  effectively 
without  some  mutual  understanding  of  a  more  or  less  explicit  kind. 
The  disappearance  of  the  small  master-workman,  the  displacement 
of  small  industries  carried  on  with  the  limited  capital  of  individuals 
by  vast  enterprises  requiring  the  united  capital  of  joint-stock  com- 
panies, the  aggregation  even  of  such  companies  in  combinations 
vaster  still : — these  are  perhaps  the  most  striking  features  of  the  in- 
dustrial era  in  which  we  live  ;  and  they  are  evidence  of  the  growing 
conviction  among  the  industrial  workers  of  the  world,  that  their 
work  can  no  longer  be  carried  on  effectively  except  by  concerted 
action  taking  the  place  of  unrestricted  competition. 

The  extent  to  which  concert  in  individual  activity  may  be  effec- 
tively carried  forms  of  course  an  extremely  complicated  problem  ; 
and  many  are  deterred  from  facing  the  problem  as  they  see  lower- 
ing behind  it  the  bugbear  of  Socialism.  This  name,  with  the  offen- 
sive suggestions  which  it  conveys  to  many  minds,  is  at  the  same 
time  so  vague  that  it  may  well  be  avoided  in  the  present  discussion. 
It  may  be  acknowledged  that  the  name  is  sometimes  unfortunately 
used  to  imply  an  extension  of  social  interference  with  individual 
freedom,  from  which  those  do  well  to  shrink  who  feel  that  the 
tyranny  of  society  is  already  sufficiently  galling,  who  feel  that  the 
hopes  of  humanity  essentially  depend  on  the  development  of  indi- 
vidual responsibility  and  on  the  social  order  securing  the  free  play 
of  individual  genius.  But  the  establishment  and  enforcement  of 
regulations  to  secure  co-operation  among  industrial  workers,  and  to 
avoid  the  enormous  waste  created  by  their  present  antagonisms, 


544 


THE  MONIST. 


would  not  in  any  way  interfere  with  the  real  freedom  of  individuals. 
On  the  contrary,  by  guaranteeing,  in  a  manner  at  present  impossi- 
ble, to  every  honest  worker  the  fruit  of  his  labors  by  providing  him 
with  the  necessaries  and  even  the  reasonable  comforts  and  luxuries 
of  our  material  civilisation,  it  may  fairly  be  assumed  that  the  great 
body  of  the  industrial  army  would  be  delivered  from  the  cruel  op- 
pression of  the  incessant  anxieties  connected  with  the  present  strug- 
gle for  existence,  and  would  thus  win  the  required  leisure  for  enter- 
ing into  the  spiritual  inheritance  which  humanity  has  already  at- 
tained, while  many  an  individual,  whose  genius  would  be  crushed 
amid  the  struggles  of  industrial  competition,  might  enjoy  oppor- 
tunities of  a  development  that  would  enrich  the  intellectual  and 
moral  civilisation  of  the  world. 

Nor  is  it  necessary  to  assume  that,  if  concerted  action  take  the 
place  of  competition,  individual  or  private  property  should  dis- 
appear from  industrial  life.  So  many  of  the  social  virtues  are  in- 
dissolubly  connected  with  the  use  of  property,  that  it  remains  ex- 
tremely doubtful  whether  the  moral  evolution  of  the  human  race, 
even  when  it  has  touched  its  culminating  point,  will  eliminate  the 
institution  from  society.  In  the  pleasant  academical  circle  which 
Epicurus  gathered  about  him  in  his  garden  in  Athens,  a  proposal 
was  made  to  introduce  community  of  property  among  the  members, 
but  it  seems  to  have  been  at  once  negatived  by  the  master,  as  out 
of  harmony  with  the  highest  social  virtue,  implying,  as  it  would, 
distrust  among  friends  in  the  friendly  generosity  of  each  other.  It 
may  be,  therefore,  that  the  evolution  of  society,  instead  of  introduc- 
ing a  forcible,  external,  legal  communism,  will  rather  inspire  the 
old  concept  of  property  with  a  new  ideal,  and  that  the  feverish 
eagerness  with  which  property  is  sought  under  the  present  system 
will  disappear  when  larger  property,  like  every  superiority  over 
others,  will  obtrude  upon  the  moral  consciousness  of  its  owner,  not 
so  much  the  idea  of  a  right,  as  rather  that  of  an  obligation, — not  so 
much  a  claim  to  be  ministered  unto,  but  an  obligation  to  minister,— 
an  obligation  to  place  his  property  and  even  his  life,  if  necessary,  at 
the  service  of  his  fellow-men.  J.  CLARK  MURRAY. 

McGiLL  COLLEGE,  MONTREAL,  CANADA. 


THE  MESSAGE  OF  MONISM  TO  THE  WORLD. 

"TT7E  LIVE  in  an  age  of  the  intensest  mental  growth.  Science 
*  *  penetrates  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  secrets  of  being,  teach- 
ing us  at  the  same  time  the  conditions  of  improvement  and  progress; 
while  the  results  of  our  more  complete  insight  into  the  nature  of 
things  have  matured  our  whole  trend  of  thought  and  rendered  our 
world-conception  more  sober,  more  positive,  and  clearer.  The  new 
philosophy  which  is  dawning  upon  mankind  has  been  briefly  called 
Monism,  or  the  theory  of  oneness,  which  indicates  that  the  world, 
we  ourselves  included,  must  be  conceived  as  one  great  whole.  All 
generalisations,  such  as  matter,  mind,  and  motion,  are  abstractions 
representing  aspects  of  reality,  but  not  entities  or  things-in-them- 
selves  by  a  combination  of  which  the  universe  has  been  pieced  to- 
gether ;  and  all  our  notions  of  nature  can  be  formulated  in  exact 
statements,  which,  when  properly  understood,  form  one  harmonious 
system  of  natural  laws.  Monism  is  the  product  of  the  scientific  ten- 
dencies of  our  age  ;  it  is  the  principle  that  pervades  them  ;  it  is  their 
consummation,  and  in  it  the  spirit  of  modern  science  is  concentrated, 
as  it  were,  in  its  quintessence.  As  such,  Monism  not  only  forms  a 
centre  for  the  various  specialties  of  scientific  research,  throwing  light 
upon  their  interrelations  and  their  aims,  but  is  also  destined  to  pen- 
etrate the  public  mind,  to  rally,  to  render  judicious,  and  to  direct 
all  efforts  at  reform,  and  to  regenerate  our  entire  spiritual  life  in  all 
its  various  fields.  We  ask,  therefore,  what  is  the  message  of  Monism 
to  the  world,  and  how  can  it  quicken  the  main-springs  of  our  social, 
ethical,  artistic,  and  religious  aspirations  ? 

Philosophy  is  not  mere  theory;  it  is  not  an  elaboration  of  ideas 


THE   MONIST. 

without  practical  consequences  ;  philosophy  shapes  our  world-con- 
ception, and  our  world-conception  gives  color  to  our  whole  frame  of 
mind  and  powerfully  influences  all  our  actions.  Thus,  it  is  the  basis 
of  all  our  thoughts  and  inclinations.  It  is  the  vital  centre  of  our 
entire  being,  and  only  those  ideas  which  touch  it  are  of  a  sweeping 
importance.  No  progress  is  stable  unless  it  begins  here,  and  no  re- 
form is  thoroughgoing  unless  it  plunges  its  roots  into  these  deepest 
convictions  of  our  soul. 

Monism  has  to  struggle  for  existence,  and  must  overcome  the 
powers  which  still  sway  the  mass  of  mankind.  And  these  powers 
are  very  strong, — not  because  they  possess  much  vitality,  for  they 
are  dying  off,  and  present  the  sad  spectacle  of  stagnant  indifference, 
but  because  they  hang  like  a  dead  weight  on  the  minds  of  men  ; 
their  strength  is  the  inertia  of  massive  mountains,  the  organised  life 
of  which  has  been  ossified  in  palaeontological  fossils.  The  era  of 
transition,  having  given  rise  to  many  abortive  endeavors  to  find  a 
way  of  escape  from  the  pharisaical  dogmatism  of  the  old  super- 
naturalism,  has  ended  in  the  intellectual  death  of  philosophy,  which 
has  become  satisfied  with  the  negations  of  an  indolent  Agnosticism. 

In  discoursing  upon  Monism,  I  do  not  speak  pro  domo,  I  do 
not  refer  to  my  own  philosophy,  but  mean  that  whole  great  move- 
ment in  the  realm  of  human  thought  which  endeavors  to  work  out  a 
systematic  world-conception  upon  the  basis  of  a  methodical  obser- 
vation of  facts.  On  the  other  hand,  when  I  speak  of  Agnosticism  as 
being  indolent,  I  here  deliberately  exclude  both  the  inventor  of  the 
term  and  its  chief  representative.  Far  be  it  from  me  to  brand  their 
personal  endeavors  as  indolent  or  to  be  blind  to  the  great  merits  of 
their  life-work.  I  cannot  help,  however,  saying  that  their  philosoph- 
ical doctrines  exercise  a  pernicious  influence,  which  is  obviously  pro- 
ductive of  indolence  and  indifference.  Thus  be  it  understood  that 
when  I  speak  of  Agnosticism  I  mean  the  attitude  of  surrender  which 
writes  upon  its  colors  the  desperate  motto  ignorabimus,  and  maintains 
that  the  fundamental  problems  of  life  are  unanswerable  riddles. 

Monism  does  not  deny  that  there  are  and  always  will  be  unsolved 
problems  ;  it  is  not  the  proclamation  of  a  dogmatic  omniscience ;  it 
simply  maintains  that  knowledge  is  possible,  and  that  the  problems 


THE   MESSAGE   OF  MONISM  TO  THE  WORLD.  547 

which  confront  us,  among  them  the  very  important  practical  problems 
of  the  principles  of  ethics,  the  ultimate  authority  of  moral  conduct, 
the  nature  of  the  soul  and  the  destiny  of  the  soul  after  death,  are  by 
no  means  unsolvable.  Agnosticism,  in  rejecting  the  dogmas  of  our 
religious  traditions,  denies  that  we  can  know  anything  at  all  about 
God,  soul,  and  immortality.  Thus  it  discredits  investigation,  and, 
leading  us  into  a  blind  alley,  arrests  intellectual  progress.  And  so 
convenient  is  this  attitude  concerning  the  most  important  problems, 
the  solutions  of  which,  if  boldly  pronounced,  are  apt  to  give  offence 
in  some  way  or  other,  that  the  indolent  and  indifferent  of  all  parties 
assume  it ;  above  all,  the  representatives  of  reaction  parade  it  with 
an  ostentatious  pretence  of  breadth  and  liberalism.  The  natural 
consequence  of  it  is  that  the  children  of  our  time  have  become  shal- 
low and  exhibit  a  lamentable  lack  of  character,  which  appears  in  the 
methods  of  education,  in  the  productions  of  art,  in  the  religion  of  our 
churches,  and  in  the  principles  of  moral  conduct.  Monism  has  a 
word  to  say  on  all  these  subjects.  Monism  does  not  overthrow  the 
old  traditions  ;  it  does  not  begin  the  world  ab  ovo ;  it  does  not  de- 
stroy the  harvest  of  millenniums.  On  the  contrary,  it  embodies  in 
itself  the  rich  experience  of  past  ages  ;  it  gathers  the  golden  sheaves 
in  its  garners  ;  it  only  winnows  the  wheat  from  the  chaff,  rejecting 
the  false,  the  irrational,  the  hypocritical,  the  dead  letter,  and  preserv- 
ing the  good,  the  true,  and  the  truly  religious.  It  prunes  the  future 
growth,  it  systematises,  purifies,  and  elevates.  It  renovates  the  old 
faith;  it  transforms  childlike  dreams  into  distinct  conceptions,  and 
changes  the  fairy-tales  of  our  religious  hopes  into  scientific  truths, 
pregnant  with  manly  resolutions  and  fixed  determinations.  Thus,  Mo- 
nism brings  into  the  world  a  new  faith,  which  undertakes  to  move  the 
mountains  of  agnostic  incompetence  and  fashionable  indifference.* 


*  My  agnostic  friends  say  that  I  am  prejudiced  against  agnosticism,  and  that  I 
do  not  understand  its  proper  meaning.  I  repeat  here  what  I  have  said  on  former 
occasions,  that  I  am  an  adherent  of  the  agnosticism  o'f  modesty,  which  remains 
conscious  of  how  little  we  know,  but  I  object  to  the  agnosticism  of  arrogance,  whose 
devotees  dogmatically  declare,  "We  do  not  know,  and  thus  no  one  can  know."  It 
is  true  enough  that  the  world  as  a  whole  and  in  all  its  details  is  wonderful  ;  here 
we  are,  and  here  is  the  world  in  which  we  have  developed ;  and  we  say  with 
Goethe:  " Zum  Erstaunen  bin  ich  da!"  If  that  be  the  meaning  of  agnosticism,  I 


548  THE  MONIST. 

The  message  of  Monism  appeals  to  every  man  who  is  serious 
in  the  investigation  of  truth,  and  its  applications  to  practical  life 
are  important.  Laborers  are  wanted  in  all  the  various  fields  of  hu- 
man exertion. 

Permit  me  here  to  sketch  the  suggestions  of  this  message  in 
three  great  fields  :  first,  in  the  domain  of  practical  psychology  touch- 
ing questions  of  education,  the  judiciary,  and  the  treatment  of  crimi- 
nals ;  secondly,  in  the  domain  of  public  life,  choosing  for  special  con- 
sideration the  much  neglected  topic  of  art;  and  lastly,  in  the  religious 
field  of  our  church  institutions. 

I. 

The  central  problem  of  psychology  is  concerned  with  the  nature 
of  the  ego-conception.  There  are  the  ideas,  "/  think;  /feel  pain; 
/feel  pleasure  ;  /desire  to  do  this,  and  it  is  /who  do  it."  And  by 
/  we  understand  this  whole  personality  of  ours.  The  old  psychology 
assumes  the  existence  of  a  mysterious  soul-entity  which  acts  the 
part  of  the  ego  and  is  supposed  to  be  the  agent  of  our  psychical 
activity.  We  need  not  enter  here  into  a  detailed  explanation  of  all 
the  difficulties  into  which  this  view  implicates  us,  for  they  are  in- 
numerable and  insurmountable,  so  that  the  last  refuge  of  those  who 
hold  it  is  the  agnostic  position  that  the  problem  of  the  soul  is  too 

am  an  agnostic.  But  our  agnostic  philosophers  do  not  dwell  on  this  feature  of  ex- 
istence ;  in  fact,  I  do  not  know  that  they  mention  it.  Their  explanation  of  agnos- 
ticism is  different.  An  event,  or  a  natural  law,  or  any  phenomenon,  such  as  a  rain- 
bow, may  be  wonderful,  glorious,  astonishing,  dazzling,  or  strangely  surprising, 
and  yet  perfectly  intelligible  and  comprehensible.  This,  in  my  opinion,  is  actually 
the  case  with  existence.  The  world  as  a  whole,  the  cosmic  order  and  every  detail 
of  reality,  is  wonderful  yet  at  the  same  time  perfectly  intelligible,  and  here  I  differ 
from  the  agnostic  position.  Agnosticism  declares  that  existence  is  incomprehensible, 
and  that  the  fundamental  problems  of  existence,  such  as  the  existence  of  God,  the 
nature  of  the  mind,  the  origin  of  consciousness,  the  relation  between  soul  and  body, 
are  absolutely  unsolvable.  This  produces  a  comfortable  but  vain  self-sufficiency  in 
the  minds  of  those  who  are  either  unwilling  or  unable  to  think  a  problem  to  the 
end  ;  it  acts  as  a  check  on  progress  and  surrounds  confusion  of  thought  with  a  halo 
of  apparent  philosophical  sublimity.  See  Homilies  of  Science,  "The  Questions  of 
Agnosticism";  Fundamental  Problems,  "The  Stronghold  of  Mysticism,"  pp.  213- 
220  and  passim.  See  also  the  controversy  on  agnosticism  in  No.  212  of  The  Open 
Court.  Concerning  such  questions  as  the  squaring  of  the  circle  see  Fundamental 
Problems,  Second  Edition,  p.  283,  "The  Unsolvable  Problem,"  and  p.  291,  "The 
Unanswerable  Riddle." 


THE  MESSAGE  OF  MONISM  TO  THE  WORLD.  549 

deep  for  solution.  A  monistic  psychology  has  no  room  for  a  meta- 
physical ego-entity  ;  it  shows  with  good  arguments  and  proves  by 
experiments,  of  which  the  most  striking  ones  have  been  collected  by 
Monsieur  Ribot  in  his  excellent  psychological  memoirs,  that  the 
idea  of  an  ego-entity  is  an  illusion.  The  thought  "I  "  is  one  idea 
among  many  others,  having  grown  into  prominence  by  its  frequent 
occurrence.  The  soul  of  man  is  comparable  to  a  society  or  an  or- 
ganised state,  the  citizens  of  which  are  so  many  ideas,  impulses,  and 
volitions.  At  first  sight  this  new  soul-conception  appears  appalling, 
for  it  seems  to  be  a  negation  of  the  existence  of  the  soul,  and  it  has  ac- 
tually become  customary  to  characterise  it  as  the  psychology  without 
a  soul.  This,  however,  is  not  so.  The  new  psychology  denies  only  an 
unwarranted  assumption  which,  if  it  were  true,  would  not  add  an  iota 
to  the  dignity  of  the  human  soul ;  it  only  rejects  an  error,  it  protests 
against  a  superstitious,  and,  what  is  more,  an  injurious,  misconcep- 
tion. The  change  which  it  brings  about  is  similar  to  the  advance  of 
astronomy  from  the  old  Ptolemaic  view,  which  mistook  the  earth  for 
the  centre  of  the  world,  to  the  Copernican  system  which  regards  it 
as  one  of  the  planets  revolving  around  the  sun.  The  illusion  of  the 
stability  of  the  ego  at  the  centre  of  our  psychic  activity  is  dispelled, 
but  the  reality  of  our  soul  remains  the  same  as  before.  On  the  con- 
trary, the  world  of  mental  life  is  extended  not  less  than  the  new  con- 
ception of  the  astronomical  heavens  ;  and  the  traditional  dogma  of 
immortality  appears  in  a  new  light  more  glorious,  more  comforting, 
more  elevating  than  the  fantastic  notion  of  a  continued  ego-existence 
in  a  heaven  beyond  the  clouds. 

The  negation  of  the  existence  of  the  ego-entity,  which  many 
psychologists  identify  with  the  soul,  is  as  old  as  Buddha  and  per- 
haps older  ;  yet  the  application  of  this  truth  in  the  domain  of  reli- 
gion is  little  appreciated  and  even  misunderstood.  Its  representa- 
tives, as  a  rule,  press  only  the  negative  side  of  this  view,  probably 
because  they  do  not  see  the  positive  side  and  its  great  importance. 
It  is  as  if  some  myth-poet  had  personified  the  day  and  spoke  about 
it  as  the  bearer  of  the  sunlight,  or  the  " subject"  of  which  all  the 
phases  of  solar  radiance,  from  morning  to  night,  were  phenomenal 
aspects.  Should,  now,  a  philosopher  come  and  explain  the  nature 


550 


THE   MONIST. 


of  the  day,  declaring  that  day  is  not  a  subject  of  phenomenal  events, 
not  a  bearer  or  metaphysical  entity  but  only  a  name  for  a  series  of 
events,  he  might  be  denounced  for  nihilism  and  suspected  of  believ- 
ing in  the  non-existence  of  light.  Those  who  believe  that  day  is  an 
entity,  regard  sunset  as  the  death  of  day.  But  in  the  soul-conception 
of  monism  death  disappears  as  much  as  sunset  ceases  to  be  an  event 
that  touches  the  sun. 

The  practical  applications  of  the  new  psychology  demand,  and 
have  even  partly  brought  about,  a  revision  of  our  entire  system 
of  education  from  infancy  to  the  psychical  dietetics  of  the  adult. 
We  want  poets  who  will  give  us  in  the  place  of  the  old  silly  dog- 
gerels new  nursery  rhymes,  pictures  and  simple  stories  conveying 
instruction  as  well  as  moral  truths  in  a  telling  way.  No  doubt  im- 
provements have  been  made,  but  we  still  look  in  vain  for  a  model 
picture-book,  perfectly  adapted  for  babes  just  beginning  to  speak. 
Grimm's  and  other  fairy-tales  for  children  will  have  to  be  revised, 
but  the  revision  must  be  made  with  an  artist's  hand  ;  their  beau- 
ties will  have  to  be  retained  while  their  monstrosities  must  be  re- 
moved or  at  least  toned  down.  New  tales  must  be  added.  The 
child  of  to-day  who  is  accustomed  to  railway  travelling  and  to  the 
sight  of  machinery  will  be  interested  to  hear,  for  example,  that  there 
was  a  time  when  no  engines  existed,  and  that  the  little  boy  who 
once  watched  the  steam  of  the  tea-kettle  lift  its  lid,  when  he  be- 
came a  man  invented  the  boiler  and  the  cylinder  in  which  the  con- 
fined steam  drives  the  piston  and  makes  it  perform  work.  It  is  not 
easy  to  reduce  the  experiences  which  most  of  us  have  had  in  later 
life  to  simple  expressions  fitted  for  the  comprehension  of  children, 
but  it  is  possible  and  necessary. 

The  methods  of  school  instruction  must  be  improved.  When 
our  educators  consider  the  nature  of  mind  and  its  growth  from  sense- 
impressions,  they  will,  as  much  as  possible,  confront  the  pupil 
with  facts.  The  principle  of  teaching  by  object-lessons  must  be 
carried  up  to  the  highest  branches  of  physics  and  mathematics, 
not  omitting  languages.  Train  not  only  the  mind  by  theories,  but 
impart  sensations.  Have  plenty  of  illustrations.  Use  to  advantage 
wherever  feasible  the  magic  lantern  in  geography,  in  history,  in 


THE  MESSAGE  OF  MONISM  TO  THE  WORLD.  551 

literature,  and  art.  Teach  Latin  and  Greek  syntax  in  little  stories 
which  when  learned  by  heart  will  naturally  and  without  effort  make 
the  pupil  apply  grammatical  rules  correctly.  It  is  possible  to  teach 
any  language,  Latin,  Greek,  or  Hebrew,  to  a  youth  of  average  in- 
telligence within  a  year  so  that  he  shall  be  able  to  understand  it 
when  spoken,  and  to  read  and  write  it.  To  train  the  ear  by  listen- 
ing to  the  spoken  language,  the  eye  by  the  sight  of  printed  words, 
the  hand  by  writing  them,  and  the  mind  by  the  abstract  comprehen- 
sion of  rules,  all  at  once,  is  in  the  long  run  not  more  difficult,  but 
easier — namely,  easier  to  the  pupil — than  a  one-sided  instruction.  In 
the  same  way  a  long  sentence  of  about  three  lines  is  more  easily  re- 
membered than  three  disconnected  words.  The  home  work  of  our 
children  can  be  greatly  reduced  if  knowledge  is  imparted  in  a  syste- 
matic and  more  impressive  way.  The  problem  is  simply  a  matter 
of  improved  method,  of  building  everything  upon  the  strong  foun- 
dation of  a  vivid  sense-experience,  of  invoking  the  mutual  assistance 
of  the  senses,  and  of  concentrating  all  efforts  upon  points  of  practical 
importance.  While  we  should  expect  more  intensified  work  of  our 
teachers  we  must  at  the  same  give  them  more  leisure  for  prepara- 
tion and  study. 

Splendid  beginnings  have  been  made  with  gymnastics  and 
manual  training,  but  they  ought  to  be  generally  applied  and  need 
not  be  confined  to  manual  training-schools  and  technical  institutes. 

Let  us  have  less  work  and  fewer  lessons  but  more  clearness  in 
the  presentation  of  the  subjects  of  instruction  in  our  schools.  Drop 
what  is  redundant  and  introduce  what  is  indispensable.  Mathe- 
matics as  a  rule  is  too  much  neglected  and  where  it  is  taught  should 
receive  more  life  and  fervor.  Mathematics  need  not  be  so  dry  and 
tedious  as  it  is  commonly  regarded.  A  mathematical  teacher  should 
awaken  in  his  scholars  a  holy  enthusiasm  for  this  most  beautiful  and 
divinest  of  sciences. 

We  must  also  change  our  attitude  towards  errors,  mistakes, 
vices,  and  crimes.  The  old  idea  of  retaliatory  justice  has  been  re- 
placed by  the  two  greatest  religious  teachers  of  the  world,  by  Buddha 
and  by  Christ,  who  put  in  its  stead  an  all-embracing  compassion  for 
the  suffering.  They  taught  a  doctrine  which  has  but  lately  been  under- ' 


552 


THE  MONIST. 


stood.  The  monistic  philosophy,  it  can  truly  be  said,  has  discovered 
the  scientific  basis  of  Christian  ethics.  The  principle  of  egotism  has 
commonly  been  regarded  as  the  natural  law  of  moral  conduct,  and 
the  higher  view  of  superindividual  maxims,  it  was  claimed,  could  not 
have  been  naturally  developed  ;  it  must  have  been  proclaimed  by  a 
supernatural  revelation.  Monism,  by  dispelling  the  illusion  of  the 
ego,  points  out  the  way  to  a  nobler  system  of  ethics,  not  based  upon 
supernatural  revelations  that  stand  in  contradiction  to  the  facts  of  na- 
ture but  upon  the  higher  evolution  of  nature  in  her  best  children  who 
understand  their  mother  better  than  do  the  lower  and  less  perfected 
creatures,  who  thus  in  fact  stand  nearer  to  nature,  and  in  this  sense 
are  more  natural  than  they.  Our  modern  world-conception  considers 
that  the  criminal  is  the  product  of  conditions.  It  may  be  necessary 
to  shoot  a  tiger  that  is  at  large,  but  there  is  no  sense  in  punishing 
him  because  he  killed  a  man.  Criminals  have  been  classed  with  the 
insane,  and  treated  as  morally  diseased.  The  amputation  of  an  ul- 
cerated or  cancerous  limb  is  no  punishment  of  the  limb,  but  a  cure 
to  protect  the  other  limbs  and  save  the  life  of  the  man.  It  must  be 
remembered  that  we  do  not  advocate  a  humane  treatment  of  crim- 
inals from  sentimental  reasons  which  in  their  application  often  lead 
to  a  gross  injustice  toward  those  who  surfer  from  the  folly  and  bru- 
tality of  criminals.  We  simply  take  the  ground  of  treating  men  as 
we  treat  things,  viz.,  according  to  their  nature  without  any  ill-will 
or  hatred.  I  remember  the  lesson  which  I  received  while  living  in 
Europe  from  an  old  French  landlady  who  in  anger  smashed  a  Chi- 
nese vase  because  she  could  not  remove  a  stain  as  quickly  as  she 
wanted  to.  How  often  does  the  retaliatory  justice  of  a  barbarous 
past  still  lingering  with  us,  destroy  human  souls  from  mere  impa- 
tience. 

Punishment  is  only  justified  as  an  educational  or  protective 
means,  and  as  such,  it  ceases  to  be  punishment  in  the  original  sense 
of  the  word.  We  have  learned  with  Christ  to  hate  sin  while  not 
hating  the  sinner,  and  to  treat  him  with  all  the  regard  that  his  hu- 
manity demands 


THE   MESSAGE  OF   MONISM   TO  THE  WORLD.  553 


Monism  has  not  yet  been  able  to  exert  its  wholesome  influence 
upon  the  public  life  of  society  and  politics.  We  should  always  be.ar 
in  mind  that  in  the  end  all  our  institutions  must  serve  to  develop  a 
higher  humanity  in  man,  more  manliness,  a  prouder  self-reliance, 
independence  of  character,  better  information,  and  nobler  ideals. 
It  is  good  for  us  Americans  that  we  surfer  from  the  ignorance  of  our 
voters,  but  we  must  not  be  satisfied  with  the  present  conditions. 
On  the  one  hand,  let  us  remove  from  our  public  life  the  temptations 
of  the  spoils- system,  which  often  actually  places  a  premium  upon 
dishonesty,  and  favors  the  unscrupulous  party-politician.  On  the 
other  hand,  let  us  consider  that  our  republican  institutions  can  be 
preserved  only  on  the  condition  of  a  general  progress  of  the  intelli- 
gence and  moral  firmness  of  the  average  man. 

Among  many  other  reforms  we  demand  a  regeneration  of  the 
spirit  of  art.  Art  at  present  is  degraded  ;  it  has  become  mere  fashion 
and  the  representation  of  empty  elegance.  Technicalities  have  be- 
come the  standard  of  artistic  beauty,  while  philosophical  depth  and 
religious  earnestness  are  omitted  and  almost  discredited. 

In  former  times  the  world-conception  of  the  age  sought  em- 
bodiment in  lofty  creations  of  art.  Every  piece  of  art  was  the  ex- 
pression of  the  spirit  of  the  times.  Art  was  holy  to  the  Egyptians, 
to  the  Greeks,  to  a  Michael  Angelo,  a  Holbein,  a  Diirer.  The  reli- 
gion of  the  ancient  artists  speaks  to  us  from  the  wonderful  works 
of  their  hands.  What  is  the  art  of  to-day?  It  consists  in  the  pro- 
duction of  beautiful  forms  wrought  out  with  refined  skill  by  able 
artificers,  but  it  is  void  of  ideas,  possesses  no  holy  zeal,  and  is  ut- 
terly lacking  in  meaning  and  purport.  Why  is  there  no  Shake- 
speare living  among  us  now,  no  Goethe,  no  Schiller?  It  is  not  be 
cause  the  necessary  talent  is  absent  in  our  young  men,  but  because 
there  is  no  demand  for  a  poetry  that  will  undertake  to  teach  man- 
kind and  reflect  the  deepest  philosophy  of  the  day  in  a  form  in 
which  it  would  be  directly  and  intuitively  understood.  We  cannot 
say  that  the  people  at  large  are  averse  to  a  treatment  of  the  deepest 


554 


THE  MONIST. 


problems,  for  even  comparatively  weak  novels  on  religious,  philo- 
sophical, and  social  problems  have  proved  a  great  temporary,  al- 
though on  account  of  their  shortcomings,  not  a  lasting  success. 
The  truth  is,  that  our  leaders  in  literature,  our  critics,  our  promi- 
nent artists,  are  infected  with  the  Agnosticism  of  our  age.  As  Ag- 
nosticism has  pooh-poohed  the  manliness  of  having  a  definite  con- 
viction, the  characteristic  feature  of  the  art  of  our  age  is  to  be  void 
of  character. 

The  first  step  toward  this  sorry  condition  of  art  was  taken  by  a 
great  man  in  a  mistaken  zeal  for  the  liberation  of  art  from  the  dog- 
matic world-conception  of  an  antiquated  and  narrow-minded  theol- 
ogy. Lessing  pronounced  in  his  great  work  on  Laokoon  the  prin- 
ciple that  art  should  be  devoted  to  the  representation  of  the  beautiful 
and  must  not  be  subjected  to  the  censorship  of  the  moralist,  who 
would  only  use  it  for  the  exposition  of  a  bigoted  Sunday-school 
morality.  Lessing  branded  all  creations  of  art  that  sought  to  be 
inspired  by  philosophical  or  religious  ideals  as  tendency-  or  purpose- 
productions.  With  apparent  justice  he  claimed  art  for  art,  dedicat 
ing  the  beautiful  to  the  beautiful,  and  leaving  the  elaboration  of 
truth  to  science  and  philosophy,  or  to  religion.  He  was  actuated 
in  the  enunciation  of  his  erroneous  principle  by  his  zeal  against  the 
ruling  dogmatism  of  his  age,  which  actually  choked  all  true  art.  Les- 
sing did  not  consider  that  the  beautiful  cannot  be  separated  from 
the  true  ;  that  while  the  unreal  may  be  sublime  and  noble,  nay,  even 
true,  the  untrue  is  always  ugly  ;  and  that  if  art,  by  showing  us  the 
world  or  some  part  of  the  world,  the  inanimate  nature  of  landscapes 
or  the  psychic  nature  of  our  souls,  in  the  transfiguration  of  beauty, 
did  not  teach  and  instruct  us,  if  it  did  not  purify  and  elevate  our 
minds,  it  would  be  like  a  sounding  brass  or  a  tinkling  cymbal.  Art 
ceases  to  be  art  and  is  mere  artificiality  as  soon  as  it  is  nothing  but 
beauty  without  truth,  form  without  idea,  pleasing  creations  without 
meaning. 

The  best  refutation  of  Lessing's  principle  is  given  by  himself  ; 
for  as  a  poet  he  disregarded  his  own  rules ;  and  his  best  works,  if 
not  all,  would  have  to  be  condemned  as  purpose-dramas.  What 
are  "Nathan  the  Wise,"  "Minna  of  Barnhelm,"  "The  Jews,"  but 


THE  MESSAGE  OF  MONISM  TO  THE  WORLD.  555 

works  of  art  that  have  a  very  obvious  purpose  ;  they  teach  moral 
lessons  and  are  unmistakable  expressions  of  his  world-conception. 
The  same  is  true  of  all  other  great  dramas,  such  as  "Antigone," 
' '  Hamlet, "  * '  Faust  ";  which  were  not  written  merely  to  make  a  dis- 
play of  literary  beauty,  but  to  incorporate  the  deepest  religious  and 
philosophical  convictions  of  their  poets.  They  please  and  teach  at 
the  same  time  ;  and  concerning  Lessing's  dramas  we  know  for  cer- 
tain that  he  actually  intended  them  not  so  much  to  please  as  to  teach. 
According  to  his  own  confession  he  used  the  stage  as  his  pulpit. 

It  is  a  shame  and  a  testimonial  of  our  intellectual  poverty  that 
such  senseless  pieces  as  "  The  Babes  in  the  Wood,"  and  even  worse 
productions,  have  been  played  to  crowded  houses,  that  they  were 
praised  by  the  press,  and  could  be  repeated  in  all  our  great  cities 
more  than  a  hundred  times.  Would  that  some  wealthy  man  might 
found  a  theatre  devoted  to  true  art !  The  stage  could  be  made  a 
source  of  spiritual  blessings  more  influential  than  the  church.  It 
would  be  a  powerful  factor  in  the  regeneration  of  our  age. 

The  most  prominent  philosopher  of  Agnosticism  declares  the 
origin  and  nature  of  art  to  consist  in  "the  useless  and  superfluous 
exercise  of  human  faculties."  He  identifies  art  with  sport,  from  the 
practices  of  which  he  selects  his  explanatory  examples,  and  finds  the 
standard  of  its  evolution-begotten  perfection  in  its  increasing  com- 
plexity. From  this  conception  of  art  the  soul  is  gone  ;  the  only 
thing  left  is  the  skill  of  physical  and  mental  acrobats.  An  organ 
solo  would  be  superior  to  the  playing  of  a  piano,  because  the  former 
is  more  complex,  for  while  the  pianist  uses  his  hands  only,  the  or- 
ganist has  to  use  also  his  feet ;  and  the  clown  who  plays  the  fiddle 
on  horseback  would  rank  higher  than  Paganini.  Such  is  the  agnos- 
tic idea  of  art !  Since  Agnosticism  renders  a  positive  conviction  as 
to  the  nature  of  existence  impossible,  it  is  consistent  with  its  main 
principle  to  take  away  from  art  its  innermost  meaning,  its  very  soul 
and  sacred  purpose,  which  consists  in  being  the  expression  of  a  world- 
conception.  We  children  of  a  transitional  age  of  indefiniteness  are 
so  imbued  with  this  lack  of  character  that  the  emptiness  of  our  art- 
productions  does  no  longer  surprise  us.  The  present  generation,  it 
seems,  has  lost  the  proper  understanding  for  true  art,  because  the 


556  THE  MON1ST. 

world-conception  of  the  masses  has  become  an  empty  blank  ;  and 
there  is  no  hope  of  reform  until  we  regain  for  our  convictions  the 
religious  earnestness  and  ardor  which  distinguishes  all  the  great 
artists  of  former  ages. 

in. 

If  Monism  is  true,  our  entire  religious  life  will  have  to  undergo 
a  radical  change.  The  dual  system  of  religious  truth  and  scientific 
truth  must  go.  We  must  face  the  fact  that  there  is  but  one  truth 
and  that  all  different  truths  are  but  aspects  of  that  one  truth.  Sci- 
ence is  a  religious  revelation  equally  as  grand  as  the  Psalms  of  Da- 
vid and  assuredly  not  less  reliable  than  the  visions  of  St.  John. 

Our  religious  leaders  must  recognise  the  principle  of  scientific 
investigation  as  the  proper  method  of  ascertaining  religious  truth. 
The  churches  must  abandon  the  imposition  of  pledging  the  clergy 
to  special  dogmas  ;  they  might  at  their  ordination  pledge  them  to  a 
reverence  of  the  traditions  of  their  special  creeds,  but  should  de- 
mand no  higher  vow  than  an  allegiance  to  truth. 

The  present  system  of  many  great  ecclesiastical  institutions  de- 
liberately makes  hypocrites  of  the  teachers  of  the  people,  for  it 
enjoins  upon  their  consciences  in  a  most  solemn  way  some  old- 
fashioned  and  indeed  ridiculous  tenets  which  it  is  impossible  for  any 
sane  person  of  the  present  century  to  countenance.  Not  even  the 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury  can  be  suspected  of  believing  all  the 
thirty-nine  articles  of  his  church,  and  if  he  does,  he  has  either  to 
interpret  their  original  meaning  away,  or  to  stretch  his  conscience. 

The  churches  have  to  be  broadened,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  our 
secular  aspirations  after  progress  have  to  be  impressed  with  a  reli- 
gious spirit.  The  liberalism  of  our  times,  good  as  it  is  in  its  prin- 
ciples, often  pursues  wrong  aims.  Thus,  in  the  interest  of  a  strict 
impartiality  toward  all  religions,  ordinances  are  in  force  in  some  of 
the  United  States,  which  forbid  the  reading  of  the  Bible  in  public 
schools.  Can  the  interdiction  of  the  most  important  collection  of 
sacred  literature  that  exists  be  called  liberty?  True,  the  idea  is,  not 
to  let  the  children  be  impressed  with  any  one  of  the  various  sectarian 
interpretations  of  the  Scriptures,  but  shall  our  young  men  and  wo- 


THE   MESSAGE  OF  MONISM  TO  THE  WORLD.  557 

men  for  that  reason  remain  entirely  ignorant  of  the  contents  of  the 
Bible?  The  consequence  is,  that  in  this  country  where  the  mass  of 
the  people  are  unchurched,  more  than  fifty  per  cent  have  never 
read  the  Bible  ;  and  truly,  we  might  rather  omit  Homer  or  banish 
Shakespeare  than  the  History  of  Israel,  the  Psalms,  and  the  Gos- 
pels. I  know  the  difficulty  lies  in  the  sectarian  spirit  in  which  our 
various  sects  want  the  Bible  read,  and  its  miracles  literally  believed, 
but  why  not  let  the  churches  give  their  own  interpretation  in  their 
Sunday-schools  while  the  public  educational  institutions  give  simply 
an  exposition  of  facts. 

We  suggest  going  further  still  :  not  only  from  the  Bible  but  also 
from  the  sacred  literature  of  other  religions  should  selections  be  read. 
There  are  some  beautiful  passages  in  the  Koran,  there  is  the  magnifi- 
cent Bhagavadgita  of  the  Hindus,  there  is  the  Tao  Teh  King  of  Lao- 
tsze,  full  of  Christian  ethics,  although  written  six  hundred  years  before 
Christ ;  there  is  the  Buddhist  Dhammapada,  the  sentiments  of  which 
are  throughout  as  lofty  as  the  most  glorious  passages  of  the  New 
Testament.  All  these  sacred  writings  should  be  household  books 
in  our  homes,  schools,  and  universities.  Together  with  the  Bible 
they  should  all  be  read,  reread,  and  studied  with  diligence,  for  they 
offer  us  the  spiritual  bread  that  is  needed  so  much  in  our  public  and 
private  life. 

It  has  been  claimed  that  it  is  impossible  to  study  religious  sub- 
jects with  impartiality,  but  why  should  it  be  so?  If  it  is  impossible 
now,  we  must  make  it  possible.  What  has  not  been  said  to  be  impos- 
sible that  afterwards  has  become  an  actual  fact  ?  We  have  had  in 
this  city  that  memorable  gathering  of  the  World's  Parliament  of  Re- 
ligions, which  is  a  most  wonderful  event  in  history,  the  lesson  of 
which  has  not  as  yet  been  generally  learned  or  even  appreciated. 
If  our  people  understand  its  lessons  they  will  not  hesitate  to  teach 
religion  in  our  public  schools  with  all  the  impartiality  that  the  love 
of  truth  demands. 

It  is  quite  possible  to  write  a  text-book  adapted  to  the  capacity 
of  our  children  in  the  public  schools  which  in  large  outlines  would 
characterise  the  great  religious  systems  of  the  world  so  that  no  one 
of  their  adherents  would  have  cause  to  find  fault  with  the  statement, 


558  THE  MONIST. 

and  which  at  the  same  time  would  contain  selections  from  the  vari- 
ous sacred  literatures.  Shall  we  forbid  the  eating  of  bread  because 
it  is  liable  to  become  mouldy  and  poisonous?  No,  let  us  show  our 
impartiality  not  by  suppressing  the  most  important  discipline  but  by 
teaching  the  facts,  so  far  as  they  are  undeniable,  in  a  way  adapted 
to  the  age  of  the  pupils  and  with  due  discretion  so  as  to  avoid  un- 
necessary offence.  But  under  all  circumstances  let  truth  be  the 
ultimate  tribunal  of  appeal. 

Monism  does  not  advocate  a  revolution  in  religion  but  a  re- 
form ;  yet  the  reform  must  be  radical ;  it  must  dispose  of  all  false- 
hood at  the  roots  of  our  religious  life. 

Let  me  here  express  my  conviction  that  the  intellectual  life  of 
our  ecclesiastical  institutions  is  not  as  dead  as  it  frequently  appears 
to  outsiders.  The  churches  still  contain  powerful  potentialities.  Any 
one  who  cares  to  investigate  matters  will  observe  the  thriving  and 
sprouting  of  promising  germs  that  are  developing  higher  forms  of 
religious  life.  There  exist  religious  thinkers  who  take  their  stand 
upon  the  properly  religious  maxims  of  religion,  who  rigorously  follow 
the  truth,  not  only  in  judging  themselves,  but  also  their  religious 
ideas,  and  in  investigating  the  records  of  the  Bible ;  who  discrim- 
inate between  the  essential  and  accidental,  and  find  the  orthodox  so- 
lution of  difficulties  not  in  the  literal  acceptance  of  the  letter  but  in 
the  spiritual  meaning  of  the  sacred  traditions.  They  must  in  the  end 
find  the  right  solution  of  the  religious  problem,  and  will  then  be  able 
to  meet  the  demands  of  the  so-called  infidel  world,  which  is  slowly 
but  surely  learning  to  recognise  the  subtle  but  very  real  truths  of 
spiritual  and  moral  laws  that  obtain  in  nature. 

While  there  are  unmistakable  symptoms  of  progress  in  many  of 
our  old  established  institutions,  it  is  strange  that  the  most  liberal 
churches  sometimes  appear  the  most  timid.  They  halt  in  their  ad- 
vance as  though  they  were  afraid  of  falling  a  prey  to  negativism. 
This  is  perhaps  the  reason  why  the  Unitarianism  of  to-day  shows 
less  vitality  than  in  the  days  of  Channing  and  Parker.  Our  Unita- 
rians and  the  other  liberal  churches  must  learn  how  to  be  conserva- 
tive and  progressive  at  the  same  time.  Nor  must  they  be  afraid  of 
struggle.  Those  movements  only  which  have  an  aim,  which  are 


THE  MESSAGE  OF  MONISM  TO  THE  WORLD.  559 

inaugurated  to  do  some  work,  which  struggle  for  a  cause  and  pur- 
sue an  ideal,  can  be  said  to  be  living  powers  in  the  world. 

There  is  a  widely  spread  preconception  on  the  subject  of  reli- 
gious reform  which  is  that  if  we  begin  at  all  it  will  finally  lead  to 
the  utter  extinction  of  religion.  But  we  beg  to  differ  from  this  view. 
We  consider  it  as  a  necessity  to  carry  reform,  as  demanded  by  sci- 
ence, to  its  most  radical  extreme.  Religion  will  not  surfer,  but,  on 
the  contrary,  be  purified.  The  essence  of  all  religion  lies  in  the 
practical  application  of  truth  ;  the  sole  purpose  of  religion  is  to  teach 
man  ethics,  to  make  him  a  moral  enthusiast,  to  point  out  to  him  the 
way  to  salvation.  And  there  is  no  other  saviour  but  truth.  Now  there 
is  no  religion,  be  its  dogmas  ever  so  crude  and  irrational,  but  has  in  it 
the  potentiality  of  developing  into  a  religion  of  truth.  There  is  no 
religion,  be  it  ever  so  low,  that  does  not  purport  to  be,  and  can  be- 
come, an  ethical  religion.  Let  but  Christianity  be  true  to  the  spirit 
of  reform  which  Christ's  injunctions  breathe,  and  it  will  be  found  to 
be  true.  Many  of  those  Christians  who  call  themselves  orthodox, 
spurn  the  search  for  truth  undertaken  by  science  for  the  sake  of  dog- 
mas founded  upon  the  views  of  well-intentioned  but  narrow-minded 
and  ignorant  men.  They  have  nothing  of  the  spirit  of  Christ.  Verily, 
he  who  trusting  in  truth  and  believing  in  the  oneness  of  truth  embraces 
the  simple  faith  in  a  religion  of  truth,  is  a  better  Christian  than  all  the 
Christians  in  name.  He  is  truly  orthodox,  that  is,  of  right  faith  ;  he 
may  discard  the  letter  of  Christianity,  yet  he  preserves  the  spirit ;  he 
may  protest  against  the  literal  interpretation  of  its  mythology,  yet  he 
possesses  its  meaning  ;  he  may  not  be  baptised,  yet  Christ's  ideal  of 
a  superindividual  life  lives  in  his  heart  ;  the  ethical  faith  of  the  reli- 
gion of  truth  alone — of  scientifically  provable  truth  is — catholic,  for 
no  truth  is  catholic  except  it  be  demonstrated  by  science. 

Monism  bids  the  religious  thinker  be  bold  and  use  fearlessly  his 
natural  right,  or  rather  obey  his  duty,  of  free  investigation.  The 
meaning  of  the  old  religions  is  true  enough.  What  renders  them 
objectionable  is  a  clinging  to  the  allegories  of  their  faith  and  an  un- 
thinking acceptance  of  the  symbol  as  if  it  were  the  truth  itself.  As 
soon  as  our  churches  begin  to  take  the  spirit  of  their  religion  seri- 
ously and  to  throw  off  the  paganism  of  a  worship  of  the  letter,  they 


560  THE    MONIST. 

will  develop  a  higher  orthodoxy,  which  can  never  come  in  conflict 
with  science  and  will  exhibit  an  unexpected  agreement  with  the  con- 
clusions of  a  most  radical  and  fearless  Monism. 

* 
*  * 

The  new  world-conception  grounded  upon  the  facts  of  expe- 
rience as  stated  with  the  scrupulous  methods  of  exact  science  and 
systematised  by  a  positive  and  monistic  philosophy,  throws  light 
upon  all  the  provinces  of  human  exertion.  It  brings  into  full  con- 
sciousness many  aspirations  which  have  so  far  only  been  the  expres- 
sion of  instinctive  promptings.  It  helps  us  to  understand  the  nature 
of  our  own  self,  the  destiny  of  our  life,  and  the  aim  of  our  holiest 
ideals.  It  gives  direction  to  all  our  yearnings  and  fulfils  all  legiti- 
mate hopes  ;  it  gathers  the  harvest  of  the  past,  and  brings  everything 
to  a  consummation,  which,  however,  will  only  be  the  starting-point 
of  a  higher  development  with  broader  outlooks  and  infinitely  greater 
possibilities  in  all  the  domains  of  human  exertion. 

EDITOR. 


MONISM  IN  ARITHMETIC. 

IN  HIS  "Primer  of  Philosophy,"  Dr.  Paul  Carus,  the  able  editor 
of  this  magazine,  defines  monism  as  a  "unitary  conception  of 
the  world."  Similarly,  we  shall  understand  by  monism  in  a  science 
the  unitary  conception  of  that  science.  The  more  a  science  advances 
the  more  does  monism  dominate  it.  An  example  of  this  is  furnished 
by  physics.  Whereas  formerly  physics  was  made  up  of  wholly  iso- 
lated branches,  like  Mechanics,  Heat,  Optics,  Electricity,  and  so 
forth,  each  of  which  received  independent  explanations,  physics  has 
now  donned  an  almost  absolute  monistic  form,  by  the  reduction  of 
all  phenomena  to  the  motions  of  molecules.  For  example,  optical 
and  electrical  phenomena,  we  now  know,  are  caused  by  the  undu- 
latory  movements  of  the  ether,  and  the  length  of  the  ether-waves 
constitutes  the  sole  difference  between  light  and  electricity. 

Still  more  distinctly  than  in  physics  is  the  monistic  element 
displayed  in  pure  arithmetic,  by  which  we  understand  the  theory  of 
the  combination  of  two  numbers  into  a  third  by  addition  and  the 
direct  and  indirect  operations  springing  out  of  addition.  Pure  arith- 
metic is  a  science  which  has  completely  attained  its  goal,  and  which 
can  prove  that  it  has,  exclusively  by  internal  evidence.  For  it  may 
be  shown  on  the  one  hand  that  besides  the  seven  familiar  operations 
of  addition,  subtraction,  multiplication,  division,  involution,  evolu- 
tion, and  the  finding  of  logarithms,  no  other  operations  are  defin- 
able which  present  anything  essentially  new;  and  on  the  other  hand 
that  fresh  extensions  of  the  domain  of  numbers  beyond  irrational, 
imaginary,  and  complex  numbers  are  arithmetically  impossible. 
Arithmetic  may  be  compared  to  a  tree  that  has  completed  its  growth, 


562 


THE  MONIST. 


the  boughs  and  branches  of  which  may  still  increase  in  size  or  even 
give  forth  fresh  sprouts,  but  whose  main  trunk  has  attained  its  full- 
est development. 

Since  arithmetic  has  arrived  at  its  maturity,  the  more  profound 
investigation  of  the  nature  of  numbers  and  their  combinations  shows 
that  a  unitary  conception  of  arithmetic  is  not  only  possible  but  also 
necessary.  If  we  logically  abide  by  this  unitary  conception,  we  ar- 
rive, starting  from  the  notion  of  counting  and  the  allied  notion  of 
addition,  at  all  conceivable  operations  and  at  all  possible  extensions  of 
the  notion  of  number.  Although  previously  expressed  by  Grassmann, 
Hankel,  E.  Schroder,  and  Kronecker,  the  author  of  the  present  ar- 
ticle, in  his  "System  of  Arithmetic,"  Potsdam,  1885,  was  the  first 
to  work  out  the  idea  referred  to,  fully  and  logically  and  in  a  form 
comprehensible  for  beginners.  This  book,  which  Kronecker  in  his 
"Notion  of  Number,"  an  essay  published  in  Zeller's  jubilee  work, 
makes  special  mention  of,  is  intended  for  persons  proposing  to  learn 
arithmetic.  As  that  cannot  be  the  object  of  the  readers  of  this  maga- 
zine, whose  purpose  will  rather  be  the  study  of  the  logical  construc- 
tion of  the  science  from  some  single  fundamental  principle,  the  fol- 
lowing pages  will  simply  give  of  the  notions  and  laws  of  arithmetic 
what  is  absolutely  necessary  for  an  understanding  of  its  develop- 
ment. 

The  starting-point  of  arithmetic  is  the  idea  of  counting  and  of 
number  as  the  result  of  counting.  On  this  subject,  the  reader  is  re- 
quested to  read  the  author's  article  in  the  last  number  of  The  Monist 
(p.  396).  It  is  there  shown  that  the  idea  of  addition  springs  imme- 
diately from  the  idea  of  counting.  As  in  counting  it  is  indifferent 
in  what  order  we  count,  so  in  addition  it  is  indifferent,  for  the  sum, 
or  the  result  of  the  addition,  whether  we  add  the  first  number  to  the 
second  or  the  second  to  the  first.  This  law,  which  in  the  symbolic 
language  of  arithmetic,  is  expressed  by  the  formula 

a  -f  b  =  b  +  a, 

is  called  the  commutative  law  of  addition.  Notwithstanding  this  law, 
however,  it  is  evidently  desirable  to  distinguish  the  two  quantities 
which  are  to  be  summed,  and  out  of  which  the  sum  is  produced,  by 
special  names.  As  a  fact,  the  two  summands  usually  are  distin- 


MONISM   IN  ARITHMETIC.  563 

guished  in  some  way,  for  example,  by  saying  a  is  to  be  increased  by 
b,  or  b  is  to  be  added  to  a,  and  so  forth.  Here,  it  is  plain,  a  is  al- 
ways something  that  is  to  be  increased,  b  the  increase.  Accordingly 
it  has  been  proposed  to  call  the  number  which  is  regarded  in  addi- 
tion as  the  passive  number  or  the  one  to  be  changed,  the  augend, 
and  the  other  which  plays  the  active  part,  which  accomplishes  the 
change,  so  to  speak,  the  increment.  Both  words  are  derived  from 
the  Latin  and  are  appropriately  chosen.  Augend  is  derived  from 
augere,  to  increase,  and  signifies  that  which  is  to  be  increased  ;  in- 
crement comes  from  increscrere,  to  grow,  and  signifies  as  in  its  ordi- 
nary meaning  what  is  added. 

Besides  the  commutative  law  one  other  follows  from  the  idea  of 
counting — the  associative  law  of  addition.  This  law,  which  has  ref- 
erence not  to  two  but  to  three  numbers,  states  that  having  a  certain 
sum,  a  -|-  b,  it  is  indifferent  for  the  result  whether  we  increase  the 
increment  b  of  that  sum  by  a  number,  or  whether  we  increase  the 
sum  itself  by  the  same  number.  Expressed  in  the  symbolic  lan\ 
guage  of  arithmetic  this  law  reads, 

*+(*+,):=,{«+*)+.* 

To  obtain  now  all  the  rules  of  addition  we  have  only  to  apply  the 
two  laws  of  commutation  and  association  above  stated,  though  fre- 
quently, in  the  deduction  of  the  same  rule,  each  must  be  applied 
many  times.  I  may  pass  over  here  both  the  rules  and  their  estab- 
lishment. 

In  addition,  two  numbers,  the  augend  a  and  the  increment  b 
are  combined  into  a  third  number  c,  the  sum.  From  this  operation 
spring  necessarily  two  inverse  operations,  the  common  feature  of 
which  is,  that  the  sum  sought  in  addition  is  regarded  in  both  as 
known,  andfhe  difference  that  in  the  one  the  augend  also  is  regarded 
as  known,  and  in  the  other  the  increment.  If  we  ask  what  number 
added  to  a  gives  c,  we  seek  the  increment.  If  we  ask  what  number 
increased  by  b  gives  c,  we  seek  the  augend.  As  a  matter  of  reckon- 
ing, the  solution  of  the  two  questions  is  the  same,  since  by  the  com- 
mutative law  of  addition  a-\-#  =  t-\-  a.  Consequently,  only  one 
common  name  is  in  use  for  the  two  inverses  of  addition,  namely, 
subtraction.  But  with  respect  to  the  notions  involved,  the  two  oper- 


564 


THE  MONIST. 


ations  do  differ,  and  it  is  accordingly  desirable  in  a  logical  investi- 
gation of  the  structure  of  arithmetic,  to  distinguish  the  two  by  dif- 
ferent names.  As  in  all  probability  no  terms  have  yet  been  sug- 
gested for  these  two  kinds  of  subtraction,  I  propose  here  for  the 
first  time  the  following  words  for  the  two  operations,  namely,  de- 
traction to  denote  the  finding  of  the  increment,  and  subtertraction  to 
denote  the  finding  of  the  augend.  We  obtain  these  terms  simply 
enough  by  thinking  of  the  augmentation  of  some  object  already  ex- 
isting. For  example,  the  cathedral  at  Cologne  had  in  its  tower  an 
augend  that  waited  centuries  for  its  increment,  which  was  only 
supplied  a  few  decades  ago.  As  the  cathedral  had  originally  a 
height  of  one  hundred  and  thirty  metres,  but  after  completion  was 
increased  in  height  twenty-six  metres,  of  the  total  height  of  one 
hundred  and  fifty-six  metres  one  hundred  and  thirty  metres  is  clearly 
the  augend  and  twenty-six  metres  the  increment.  If,  now,  we  wished 
to  recover  the  augend  we  should  have  to  pull  down  (Latin,  detrahere} 
the  upper  part  along  the  whole  height.  Accordingly,  the  finding  of 
the  augend  is  called  detraction.  If  we  sought  the  increment,  we 
should  have  to  pull  out  the  original  part  from  beneath  (Latin,  subter- 
trahere}.  For  this  reason,  the  finding  of  the  increment  is  called  sub- 
tertraction. Owing  to  the  commutative  law,  the  two  inverse  opera- 
tions, as  matters  of  computation,  fall  into  one,  which  bears  the  name 
of  subtraction.  The  sign  of  this  operation  is  the  minus  sign,  a  hori- 
zontal stroke.  The  number  which  originally  was  sum,  is  called  in 
subtraction  minuend  ;  the  number  which  in  addition  was  increment 
is  now  called  detractor ;  the  number  which  in  addition  was  augend 
is  now  called  subtertractor.  Comprising  the  two  conceptually  dif- 
ferent operations  in  one  single  operation,  subtraction,  we  employ 
for  the  number  which  before  was  increment  or  augend,  the  term  sub- 
trahend, a  word  which  on  account  of  its  passive  ending  is  not  very 
good,  and  for  which,  accordingly,  E.  Schroder  proposes  to  substi- 
tute the  word  subtrahent,  having  an  active  ending.  The  result  of 
subtraction,  or  what  is  the  same  thing,  the  number  sought,  is  called 
the  difference.  The  definition  formula  of  subtraction  reads 

a  —  b  -f-  b  =  a, 
that  is,  a  minus  b  is  the  number  which  increased  by  b  gives  a,  or 


MONISM  IN  ARITHMETIC.  565 

the  number  which  added  to  b  gives  a,  according  as  the  one  or  the 
other  of  the  two  operations  inverse  to  addition  is  meant.  From  the 
formula  for  substraction,  and  from  the  rules  which  hold  for  addition, 
follow  now  at  once  the  rules  which  refer  to  both  addition  and  sub- 
traction. These  rules  we  here  omit. 

From  the  foregoing  it  is  plain  that  the  minuend  is  necessarily 
larger  than  the  subtrahent.  For  in  the  process  of  addition  the  minu- 
end was  the  sum,  and  the  sum  grew  out  of  the  union  of  two  natural 
number-pictures.*  Thus  5  minus  9,  or  n  minus  12,  or  8  minus  8, 
are  combinations  of  numbers  wholly  destitute  of  meaning]  for  no 
number,  that  is,  no  result  of  counting,  exists  that  added  to  9  gives 
the  sum  5,  or  added  to  12  gives  the  sum  n,  or  added  to  8  gives  8. 
What,  then,  is  to  be  done?  Shall  we  banish  entirely  from  arith- 
metic such  meaningless  unions  of  numbers  ;  or,  since  they  have  no 
meaning,  shall  we  rather  invest  them  with  one?  If  we  do  the  first, 
arithmetic  will  still  stick  in  the  strait-jacket  in  which  it  is  forced  by 
the  original  definition  of  number  as  the  result  of  counting.  If  we 
adopt  the  latter  alternative  we  are  forced  to  extend  our  notion  of 
number.  But  in  doing  this,  we  sow  the  first  seeds  of  the  science  of 
pure  arithmetic,  an  organic  body  of  knowledge  which  fructifies  all 
other  provinces  of  science. 

What  significance,  then,  shall  we  impart  to  the  symbol 

5-9? 

Since  5  minus  9  possesses  no  significance  whatever,  we  may,  of 
course,  impart  to  it  any  significance  we  may  wish.  But  as  a  mat- 
ter of  practical  convenience  it  should  be  invested  with  no  meaning 
that  is  likely  to  render  it  subject  to  exceptions.  As  the  form  of  the 
symbol  5  —  9  is  the  form  of  a  difference,  it  will  be  obviously  con- 
venient to  give  it  a  meaning  which  will  allow  us  to  reckon  with  it  as 
we  reckon  with  every  other  real  difference,  that  is,  with  a  difference 
in  which  the  minuend  is  larger  than  the  subtrahent.  This  being 
agreed  upon,  it  follows  at  once  that  all  such  symbols  in  which  the 
number  before  the  minus  sign  is  less  than  the  number  behind  it  by 
the  same  amount  may  be  put  equal  to  one  another.  It  is  practical, 

*  See  the  article  "  Notion  and  Definition  of  Number  "  in  the  last  Monist. 


566  THE  MONIST. 

therefore,  to  comprise  all  these  symbols  under  some  one  single  sym- 
bol, and  to  construct  this  latter  symbol  so  that  it  will  appear  un- 
equivocally from  it  by  how  much  the  number  before  the  minus  sign 
is  less  than  the  number  behind  it.  This  difference,  accordingly,  is 
written  down  and  the  minus  sign  placed  before  it. 

If  the  two  numbers  of  such  a  differential /<?rw  are  equal,  a  totally 
new  sign  must  be  invented  for  the  expression  of  the  fact,  having 
no  relation  to  the  signs  which  state  results  of  counting.  This  in- 
vention was  not  made  by  the  ancient  Greeks,  as  one  might  naturally 
suppose  from  the  high  mathematical  attainments  of  that  people,  but 
by  Hindu  Brahman  priests  at  the  end  of  the  fourth  century  after 
Christ.  The  symbol  which  they  invented  they  called  tsiphra,  empty, 
whence  is  derived  the  English  cipher.  The  form  of  this  sign  has  been 
different  in  different  times  and  with  different  peoples.  But  for  the 
last  two  or  three  centuries,  since  the  symbolic  language  of  arith- 
metic has  become  thoroughly  established  as  an  international  char- 
acter, the  form  of  the  sign  has  been  0  (French  zero,  German  null). 

In  calling  this  symbol  and  the  symbols  formed  of  a  minus  sign 
followed  by  a  result  of  counting,  numbers,  we  widen  the  province  of 
numbers,  which  before  was  wholly  limited  to  results  of  counting. 
In  no  other  way  can  zero  and  the  negative  numbers  be  introduced 
into  arithmetic.  No  man  can  prove  that  7  minus  u  is  equal  to  i 
minus  5.  Originally,  both  are  meaningless  symbols.  And  not  until 
we  agree  to  impart  to  them  a  significance  which  allows  us  to  reckon 
with  them  as  we  reckon  with  real  differences  are  we  led  to  a  state- 
ment of  identity  between  7  minus  u  and  i  minus  5.  It  was  a  long 
time  before  the  negative  numbers  mentioned  acquired  the  full  rights 
of  citizenship  in  arithmetic.  Cardan  called  them,  in  his  Ars  Magna, 
1545,  numeri  ficti  (imaginary  numbers),  as  distinguished  from  numert 
veri  (real  numbers).  Not  until  Descartes,  in  the  first  half  of  the 
seventeenth  century,  was  any  one  bold  enough  to  substitute  numert 
ficti  and  numeri  veri  indiscriminately  for  the  same  letter  of  algebraic 
expressions. 

We  have  invested  thus  combinations  of  signs  originally  mean- 
ingless, in  which  a  smaller  number  stood  before  than  after  a  minus 
sign,  with  a  meaning  which  enables  us  to  reckon  with  such  apparent 


MONISM   IN  ARITHMETIC.  567 

differences  exactly  as  we  do  with  ordinary  differences.  Now  it  is 
just  this  practical  shift  of  imparting  meanings  to  combinations,  which 
logically  applied  deduces  naturally  the  whole  system  of  arithmetic 
from  the  idea  of  counting  and  of  addition,  and  which  we  may  char- 
acterise, therefore,  as  the  foundation-principle  of  its  whole  construc- 
tion. This  principle,  which  Hankel  once  called  the  principle  of  per- 
manence,, but  which  I  prefer  to  call  the  PRINCIPLE  OF  NO  EXCEPTION, 
may  be  stated  in  general  terms  as  follows  : 

In  the  construction  of  arithmetic  every  combination  of  two  previously 
defined  numbers  by  a  sign  for  a  previously  defined  operation  (plus,  minus, 
times,  etc, )  shall  be  invested  with  meaning,  even  where  the  original  defi- 
nition of  the  operation  used  excludes  such  a  combination;  and  the  mean- 
ing imparted  is  to  be  such  that  the  combination  considered  shall  obey  the 
same  formula  of  definition  as  a  combination  having  from  the  outset  a  sig- 
nification, so  that  the  old  laws  of  reckoning  shall  still  hold  good  and  may 
still  be  applied  to  it. 

A  person  who  is  competent  to  apply  this  principle  rigorously 
and  logically  will  arrive  at  combinations  of  numbers  whose  results 
are  termed  irrational  or  imaginary  with  the  same  necessity  and  fa- 
cility as  at  the  combinations  above  discussed,  whose  results  are 
termed  negative  numbers  and  zero.  To  think  of  such  combinations 
as  results  and  to  call  the  products  reached  also  "  numbers  "  is  a  mis- 
use of  language.  It  were  better  if  we  used  the  phrase  forms  of  num- 
bers for  all  numbers  that  are  not  the  results  of  counting.  But  usus 
tyrannus! 

It  will  now  be  my  task  to  show  how  all  numbers  at  which  arith- 
metic ever  has  arrived  or  ever  can  arrive  naturally  flow  from  the 
simple  application  of  the  principle  of  no  exception. 

Owing  to  the  commutative  and  associative  laws  for  addition  it 
is  wholly  indifferent  for  the  result  of  a  series  of  additive  processes 
in  what  order  the  numbers  to  be  summed  are  added.  For  example, 

a  +  (b  +  c  +  </)  +  (e  +/)  =  (a  +  b  +  c)  +  (d  +  e)  +  / 
The  necessary  consequence  of  this  is  that  we  may  neglect  the  con- 
sideration of  the  order  of  the  numbers  and   give  heed  only  to  what 
the  quantities  are  that  are  to  be  summed,  and,  when  they  are  equal, 
take  note  of  only  two  things,  namely,  of  what  the  quantity  which  is 


568  THE  MONIST. 

to  be  repeatedly  summed  is  called  and  how  often  it  occurs.  We 
thus  reach  the  notion  of  multiplication.  To  multiply  a  by  b  means 
to  form  the  sum  of  b  numbers  each  of  which  is  called  a.  The  num- 
ber conceived  summed  is  called  the  multiplicand,  the  number  which 
indicates  or  counts  how  often  the  first  is  conceived  summed  is  called 
the  multiplier. 

It  appears  hence,  that  the  multiplier  must  be  a  result  of  count- 
ing, or  a  number  in  the  original  sense  of  the  word,  but  that  the  mul- 
tiplicand may  be  any  number  hitherto  defined,  that  is,  may  also  be 
zero  or  negative.  It  also  follows  from  this  definition  that  though 
the  multiplicand  may  be  a  concrete  number  the  multiplier  cannot. 
Therefore,  the  commutative  law  of  multiplication  does  not  hold 
when  the  multiplicand  is  concrete.  For,  to  take  an  example,  though 
there  is  sense  in  requiring  four  trees  to  be  summed  three  times, 
there  is  no  sense  in  conceiving  the  number  three  summed  "four 
trees  times."  When,  however,  multiplicand  and  multiplier  are  un- 
named results  of  counting,  (abstract  numbers,)  two  fundamental 
laws  hold  in  multiplication,  exactly  analogous  to  the  fundamental 
laws  of  addition,  namely,  the  law  of  commutation  and  the  law  of 
association.  Thus, 

a  times  b  •=.  b  times  a, 

and,  a  times  (b  times  t)  =  (a  times  ^)  times  c. 

The  truth  and  correctness  of  these  laws  will  be  evident,  if  keeping 
to  the  definition  of  multiplication  as  an  abbreviated  addition  of  equal 
summands,  we  go  back  to  the  laws  of  addition.  Owing  to  the  com- 
mutative law  it  is  unnecessary,  for  purposes  of  practical  reckoning, 
to  distinguish  multiplicand  and  multiplier.  Both  have,  therefore,  a 
common  name  :  factor.  The  result  of  the  multiplication  is  called  the 
product;  the  symbol  of  multiplication  is  a  dot  (.)  or  a  cross  (X), 
which  is  read  "  times."  Joined  with  the  fundamental  formula  above 
written  are  a  group  of  subsidiary  formulae  which  give  directions  how 
a  sum  or  difference  is  multiplied  and  how  multiplication  is  performed 
with  a  sum  or  difference.  I  need  not  enter,  however,  into  any  dis- 
cussion of  these  rules  here. 

As  the  combination  of  two  numbers  by  a  sign  of  multiplication 
has  no  significance  according  to  our  definition  of  multiplication, 


MONISM  IN  ARITHMETIC.  569 

when  the  multiplier  is  zero  or  a  negative  number,  it  will  be  seen 
that  we  are  again  in  a  position  where  it  is  necessary  to  apply  the 
above  explained  principle  of  no  exception.  We  revert,  therefore,  to 
what  we  above  established,  that  zero  and  negative  numbers  are  sym- 
bols which  have  the  form  of  differences,  and  lay  down  the  rule  that 
multiplications  with  zero  and  negative  numbers  shall  be  performed 
exactly  as  with  real  differences.  Why,  then,  is  minus  one  times 
minus  one,  for  example,  equal  to  plus  one?  For  no  other  reason 
than  that  minus  one  can  be  multiplied  with  an-  ordinary  difference, 
as,  for  example,  8  minus  5,  by  first  multiplying  by  8,  then  multiply- 
jng  by  5,  and  subtracting  the  differences  obtained,  and  because 
agreeably  to  the  principle  of  no  exception  we  must  say  that  the  mul- 
tiplication must  be  performed  according  to  exactly  the  same  rule 
with  a  symbol  which  has  the  form  of  a  difference  whose  minuend  is 
less  by  one  than  its  subtrahent. 

As  from  addition  two  inverse  operations,  detraction  and  subter 
traction,  spring,  so  also  from  multiplication  two  inverse  operations 
must  proceed  which  differ  from  each  other  simply  in  the  respect  that 
in  the  one  the  multiplicand  is  sought  and  in  the  other  the  multiplier. 
As  matters  of  computation,  these  two  inverse  operations  again  meet 
in  a  single  operation,  namely,  division,  owing  to  the  validity  of  the 
commutative  law  in  multiplication.  But  in  so  far  as  they  are  differ- 
ent ideas,  they  must  be  distinguished.  As  most  civilised  languages 
distinguish  the  two  inverse  processes  of  multiplication  in  the  case 
in  which  the  multiplicand  is  a  line,  we  will  adopt  for  arithmetic  a 
name  which  is  used  in  this  exception.  Let  us  take  this  example, 

4  yards  X  3  =  1 2  yards. 

If  twelve  yards  and  four  yards  are  given,  and  the  multiplier  3  is 
sought,  I  ask,  how  many  summands,  each  equal  to  four  yards,  give 
twelve  yards,  or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  how  often  I  can  lay  a 
length  of  four  yards  on  a  length  of  twelve  yards.  But  this  is  tneasur- 
ing.  Secondly,  if  twelve  yards  and  the  number  3  are  given,  and  the 
multiplicand  four  yards  is  sought,  I  ask  what  summand  it  is  which 
taken  three  times  gives  twelve  yards,  or,  what  is  the  same  thing, 
what  part  I  shall  obtain  if  I  cut  up  twelve  yards  into  three  equal 
parts.  But  this  is  partition,  or  parting.  If,  therefore,  the  multi- 


570  THE  MONIST. 

plier  is  sought  we  call  the  division  measuring,  and  if  the  multipli- 
cand is  sought,  we  call  it  parting.  In  both  cases  the  number  which 
was  originally  the  product  is  called  the  dividend,  and  the  result  the 
quotient.  The  number  which  originally  was  multiplicand  is  called 
the  measure ;  the  number  which  originally  was  multiplier  is  called 
the  parter.  The  common  name  for  measure  and  parter  is  divisor. 
The  common  symbol  for  both  kinds  of  division  is  a  colon,  a  hori- 
zontal stroke,  or  a  combination  of  both.  Its  definitional  formula 
reads, 

(a  -j-  b)  .  b  =  a,  or,  —  .  b  =  a. 

Accordingly,  dividing  a  by  b  means,  to  find  the  number  which  mul- 
tiplied by  b  gives  a,  or  to  find  the  number  with  which  b  must  be 
multiplied  to  produce  a.  From  this  formula,  together  with  the 
formulae  relative  to  multiplication,  the  well-known  rules  of  division 
are  derived,  which  I  here  pass  over. 

In  the  dividend  of  a  quotient  only  such  numbers  can  have  a 
place  which  are  the  product  of  the  divisor  with  some  previously  de- 
fined number.  For  example,  if  the  divisor  is  5  the  dividend  can 
only  be  5,  10,  15,  and  so  forth,  and  o,  — 5,  — 10  and  so  forth.  Ac- 
cordingly, a  stroke  of  division  having  underneath  it  5  and  above  it 
a  number  different  from  the  numbers  just  named  is  a  combination 
of  symbols  having  no  meaning.  For  example,  |  or  J^2-  are  meaning- 
less symbols.  Now,  conformably  to  the  principle  of  no  exception 
we  must  invest  such  symbols  which  have  the  form  of  a  quotient 
without  their  dividend  being  the  product  of  the  divisor  with  any 
number  yet  defined,  with  a  meaning  such  that  we  shall  be  able  to 
reckon  with  such  apparent  quotients  as  with  ordinary  quotients. 
This  is  done  by  our  agreeing  always  to  put  the  product  of  such  a 
quotient  form  with  its  divisor  equal  to  its  dividend.  In  this  way  we 
reach*  the  definition  of  broken  numbers  or  fractions,  which  by  the 
application  of  the  principle  of  no  exception  spring  from  division  ex- 
actly as  zero  and  negative  numbers  sprang  from  subtraction.  The 
latter  had  their  origin  in  the  impossibility  of  the  subtraction  ;  the 
former  have  their  origin  in  the  impossibility  of  the  division.  Putting 


MONISM   IN  ARITHMETIC.  571 

together  now  both  these  extensions  of  the  domain  of  numbers,  we 
arrive  at  negative  fractional  numbers. 

We  pass  over  the  easily  deduced  rules  of  computation  for  frac- 
tions and  shall  only  direct  the  reader's  attention  to  the  connexion 
which  exists  between  fractional  and  non-fractional  or,  as  we  usually 
say,  whole  numbers.  Since  the  number  12  lies  between  the  num- 
bers 10  and  15,  or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  io<;i2<;i5,  and  since 
10  -.5  =  2,  15:5  =  3,  we  say  also  that  12:5  lies  between  2  and  3,  or 
that 

2<-V2-<3- 

In  itself,  the  notion  of  "less  than  "  has  significance  only  for  results 
of  counting.  Consequently,  it  must  first  be  stated  what  is  meant 
when  it  is  said  that  2  is  less  than  -^2-.  Plainly,  nothing  is  meant  by 
this  except  that  2  times  5  is  less  than  12.  We  thus  see  that  every 
broken  number  can  be  so  interpolated  between  two  whole  numbers 
differing  from  each  other  only  by  i  that  the  one  shall  be  smaller 
and  the  other  greater,  where  smaller  and  greater  have  the  meaning 
above  given. 

From  the  above  definitions  and  the  laws  of  commutation  and 
association  all  possible  rules  of  computation  follow,  which  in  virtue 
of  the  principle  of  no  exception  now  hold  indiscriminately  for  all 
numbers  hitherto  defined.  It  is  a  consequence  of  these  rules,  again, 
that  the  combination  of  two  such  numbers  by  means  of  any  of  the 
operations  defined  must  in  every  case  lead  to  a  number  which  has 
been  already  defined,  that  is,  to  a  positive  or  negative  whole  or  frac- 
tional number,  or  to  zero.  The  sole  exception  is  the  case  where 
such  a  number  is  to  be  divided  by  zero.  If  the  dividend  also  is 
zero,  that  is,  if  we  have  the  combination  $,  the  expression  is  one 
which  stands  for  any  number  whatsoever,  because  any  number  what- 
soever, no  matter  what  it  is,  if  multiplied  by  zero  gives  zero.  But 
if  the  dividend  is  not  zero  but  some  other  number  a,  be  it  what  it 
will,  we  get  a  quotient  form  to  which  no  number  hitherto  defined 
can  be  equated.  But  we  discover  that  if  we  apply  the  ordinary  arith- 
metical rules  to  a  -r-  0  all  such  forms  may  be  equated  to  one  another 
both  when  a  is  positive  and  also  when  a  is  negative.  We  may  there- 
fore invent  two  new  signs  for  such  quotient  forms,  namely  -f-  oo  and 


572  THE    MON1ST. 

—  oo.  We  find,  further,  that  in  transferring  the  notions  greater  and 
less  to  these  symbols,  -f-  oo  is  greater  than  any  positive  number, 
however  great,  and  — oo  is  smaller  than  any  negative  number,  how- 
ever small.  We  read  these  new  signs,  accordingly,  "plus  infinitely 
great"  and  "minus  infinitely  great." 

But  even  here  arithmetic  has  not  reached  its  completion,  al- 
though the  combination  of  as  many  previously  defined  numbers  as 
we  please  by  as  many  previously  defined  operations  as  we  please 
will  still  lead  necessarily  to  some  previously  defined  number.  Every 
science  must  make  every  possible  advance,  and  still  one  step  in  ad- 
vance is  possible  in  arithmetic.  For  in  virtue  of  the  laws  of  com- 
mutation and  association,  which  also  fortunately  obtain  in  multipli- 
cation, just  as  we  advance  from  addition  to  multiplication,  so  here 
again  we  may  ascend  from  multiplication  to  an  operation  of  the  third 
degree.  For,  just  as  for  a  -\-  a  -f-  a-{-  a  we  read  4.0,  so  with  the  same 
reason  we  may  introduce  some  more  abbreviated  designation  for 
a. a. a. a.  The  introduction  of  this  new  operation  is  in  itself  simply 
a  matter  of  convenience  and  not  an  extension  of  the  ideas  of  arith- 
metic. But  if  after  having  introduced  this  operation  we  repeatedly 
apply  the  monistic  principle  of  arithmetic,  the  principle  of  no  ex- 
ception, we  reach  new  means  of  computation  which  have  led  to  un- 
dreamt of  advances  not  only  in  the  hands  of  mathematicians  but 
also  in  the  hands  of  natural  scientists.  The  abbreviated  designation 
mentioned,  which,  fructified  by  the  principle  of  no  exception,  can 
render  science  such  incalculable  services,  is  simply  that  of  writing 
for  a  product  of  b  factors  of  which  each  is  called  a,  ab,  which  we 
read  a  to  the  bth  power.  Here  a  new  direct  operation,  that  of  invo- 
lution, is  defined,  and  from  now  on  we  are  justified  in  distinguishing 
operations  which  are  not  inverses  of  others,  as  addition,  multiplica- 
tion, and  involution,  by  numbers  of  degree.  Addition  is  the  direct 
operation  of  the  first  degree,  multiplication  that  of  the  second  de- 
gree, and  involution  that  of  the  third  degree.  In  the  expression 
ab  the  passive  number  a  is  called  the  base,  the  active  number  b  the 
exponent,  the  result,  the  power. 

But  whilst  in  the  direct  operations  of  the  first  and  second  de- 
gree, the  laws  of  commutation  and  association  hold,  here  in  involu- 


MONISM  IN  ARITHMETIC.  573 

tion,  the  operation  of  third  degree,  the  two  laws  are  inapplicable, 
and  the  result  of  their  inapplicability  is  that  operations  of  a  still 
higher  degree  than  the  third  form  no  possible  advancement  of  pure 
arithmetic.  The  product  of  b  factors  a  is  not  equal  to  the  product 
of  a  factors  b\  that  is,  the  law  of  commutation  does  not  hold.  The 
only  two  different  integers  for  which  a  to  the  bth  power  is  equal  to  b 
to  the  ath  power  are  2  and  4,  for  2  to  the  ^th  power  is  16,  and  4  to 
the  second  power  also  is  16.  So,  too,  the  law  of  association  as  a 
general  rule  does  not  hold.  For  it  is  hardly  the  same  thing  whether 
we  take  the  (bcyh  power  of  a  or  the  cth  power  of  ab. 

From  the  definition  of  involution  follow  the  usual  rules  for  reck- 
oning with  powers,  of  which  we  shall  only  mention  one,  namely, 
that  the  (b  —  c]th  power  of  a  is  equal  to  the  result  of  the  division  of 
a  to  the  bth  power  by  a  to  the  cth  power.  If  we  put  here  c  equal  to 
b,  we  are  obliged,  by  the  principle  of  no  exception,  to  put  a  to  the 
0M  power  equal  to  i;  a  new  result  not  contained  in  the  original  no- 
tion of  involution,  for  that  implied  necessarily  that  the  exponent 
should  be  a  result  of  counting.  Again,  if  we  make  b  smaller  than  c 
we  obtain  a  negative  exponent,  which  we  should  not  know  how  to 
dispose  of  if  we  did  not  follow  our  monistic  law  of  arithmetic.  Ac- 
cording to  the  latter,  a  to  the  (b  —  c)th  power  must  still  remain  equal 
to  ab  divided  by  af  even  when  b  is  smaller  than  c.  Whence  follows 
that  a  to  the  minus  dth  power  is  equal  to  i  divided  by  a  to  the 
dth  power,  or  to  take  specific  numbers,  that  3  to  the  minus  2"^  power 
is  equal  to  J-. 

At  this  point,  perhaps,  the  reader  will  inquire  what  a  raised  to  a 
fractional  power  is.  But  this  can  be  explained  only  when  we  have 
discussed  the  inverse  processes  of  involution,  to  which  we  now  pass. 

If  a*  =  c,  we  may  ask  two  questions  :  first,  what  the  base  is 
which  raised  to  the  bth  power  gives  c\  the  second,  what  the  exponent 
of  the  power  is  to  which  a  must  be  raised  to  produce  c.  In  the  first 
case  we  seek  the  base,  and  term  the  operation  which  yields  this  re- 
sult evolution;  in  the  second  case  we  seek  the  exponent  and  call  the 
operation  which  yields  this  exponent,  the  finding  of  the  logarithm. 
In  the  first  case,  we  write  ]/  c  =  a  (which  we  read,  the  bth  root  of  c  is 
equal  to  a),  and  call  c  the  radicand,  b  the  exponent  of  the  root,  and  a 


574  THE  MONIST. 

the  root.  In  the  second  case,  we  write  \Q%ac  —  b  (which  we  read,  the 
logarithm  of  c  to  the  base  a  is  equal  to  £),  and  call  c  the  logarithmana 
or  number,  a  the  base  of  the  logarithm,  and  b  the  logarithm. 

While,  owing  to  the  validity  of  the  law  of  commutation  in  addi- 
tion and  multiplication,  the  two  inverse  processes  of  those  opera- 
tions are  identical  so  far  as  computation  is  concerned,  here  in  the 
case  of  involution  the  two  inverse  operations  are  in  this  regard  es- 
sentially different,  for  in  this  case  the  law  of  commutation  does  not 
hold. 

From  the  definitional  formulae  for  evolution  and  the  finding  of 
logarithms,  namely, 

(l/7y  —  c,  and  (a]  l°8*c  =  c, 

follow,  by  the  application  of  the  laws  of  involution,  the  rules  for 
computation  with  roots  and  logarithms.  These  rules  we  pass  over 
here,  only  remarking,  first,  that  for  the  present  ~\/ ' c  has  meaning 
only  when  c  is  the  bth  power  of  some  number  already  defined  ;  and, 
secondly,  that  for  the  present  also  log^r  has  meaning  only  "when  c 
can  be  produced  by  raising  the  number  a  to  some  power  which  is  a 
number  already  defined.  In  the  phrase  "has  only  meaning  for  the 
present"  is  contained  a  possibility  of  new  extensions  of  the  domain 
of  number.  But  before  we  pass  to  those  extensions  we  shall  first 
make  use  of  the  idea  of  evolution  just  defined  to  extend  the  notion 
of  power  also  to  cases  in  which  the  exponent  is  a  fractional  number. 

According  to  the  original  definition  of  involution,  ab  was  mean- 
ingless except  where  b  was  a  result  of  counting.  But  afterwards, 
even  powers  which  had  for  their  exponents  zero  or  a  negative  integer 
could  be  invested  with  meaning.  Now  we  have  to  consider  the 
arithmetical  combination  "a  raised  to  the  fractional  power  ~. "  The 
principle  of  no  exception  compels  us  to  give  to  the  arithmetical  com- 
bination "a  to  the  £**  power"  a  significance  such  that  all  the  rules 
of  computation  will  hold  with  respect  to  it.  Now,  one  rule  that 
holds  is,  that  the  mth  power  of  the  nth  power  of  a  is  equal  to  the 
(a»X#yA  power  of  a.  Consequently,  the  qth  power  of  a  raised  to  the 
~h  power  must  be  equal  to  a  raised  to  a  power  whose  exponent  is 
equal  to  •£  times  q.  But  the  last-mentioned  product  gives,  according 
to  the  definition  of  division,  the  number  p.  Consequently  the  sym- 


MONISM  IN  ARITHMETIC.  575 

bol  a  to  the  p  th  power  is  so  constituted  that  its  qth  power  is  equal  to 
a  to  the  pth  power,  that  is,  is  equal  to  the  qth  root  of  ap.  Similarly, 
we  find  that  the  symbol  "a  to  the  minus  ^  th  power"  must  be  put 
equal  to  i  divided  by  the  qt/l  root  of  a  to  the  pth  power,  if  we  are  to 
reckon  with  this  symbol  as  we  do  with  real  powers.  Again,  just  as 
a  to  the  bt!l  power  is  invested  with  meaning  when  b  is  a  fractional 
number,  so  some  meaning  harmonious  with  the  principle  of  no  ex- 
ception must  be  imparted  to  the  bth  root  of  c  where  b  is  a  positive  or 
negative  fractional  number.  For  example,  the  three-fourths^  root 
of  8  is  equal  to  8  to  the  |  power,  that  is,  to  the  cube  root  of  8  to  the 
4'*  power,  or  16. 

The  principle  underlying  arithmetic  now  also  compels  us  to 
give  to  the  symbol  the  "bth  root  of  <r"  a  meaning  when  c  is  not  the 
bth  power  of  any  number  yet  defined.  First,  let  c  be  any  positive 
integer  or  fraction.  Then  always  to  be  able  to  reckon  with  the 
bth  root  of  c  in  the  same  way  that  we  do  with  extractible  roots,  we 
must  agree  always  to  put  the  bth  power  of  the  bth  root  of  c  equal  to 
c — for  example,  (fx  3)2  always  exactly  equal  to  3.  A  careful  inspec- 
tion of  the  new  symbols,  which  we  will  also  call  numbers,  shows,  that 
though  no  one  of  them  is  exactly  equal  to  a  number  hitherto  defined, 
yet  by  a  certain  extension  of  the  notions  greater  and  less,  two  num- 
bers of  the  character  of  numbers  already  defined  may  be  found  for 
each  such  new  number,  such  that  the  new  number  is  greater  than  the 
one  and  less  than  the  other  of  the  two,  and  that  further,  these  two 
numbers  may  be  made  to  differ  from  each  other  by  as  small  a  quan- 
tity as  we  please.  For  example, 

(f)3  =.«*  =  -VA  <  3  <  3f  =  -Y-  =  (f  y. 

The  number  3,  as  we  see,  is  here  included  between  two  limits  which 
are  the  third  powers  of  two  numbers  J  and  f  whose  difference  is  -^. 
We  could  also  have  arranged  it  so  that  the  difference  should  be 
equal  to  Ti^,  or  to  any  specified  number,  however  small.  Now,  in- 
stead of  putting  the  symbol  "less  than"  between  (J)3  and  3,  and 
between  3  and  (f  )3,  let  us  put  it  between  their  third  roots ;  for  ex- 
ample, let  us  say  : 

f  <  ^3  <  f ,  meaning  by  this  that  (J)3  <  3  <  (|)3. 
In  this  sense  we  may  say  that  the  new  numbers   always  lie  between 


576  THE  MONIST. 

two  old  numbers  whose  difference  may  be  made  as  small  as  we 
please.  Numbers  possessing  this  property  are  called  irrational  num- 
bers, in  contradistinction  to  the  numbers  hitherto  defined,  which  are 
termed  rational.  The  considerations  which  before  led  us  to  negative 
rational  numbers,  now  also  lead  us  to  negative  irrational  numbers. 
The  repeated  application  of  addition  and  multiplication  as  of  their 
inverse  processes  to  irrational  numbers,  (numbers  which  though  not 
exactly  equal  to  previously  defined  rational  numbers  may  yet  be 
brought  as  near  to  them  as  we  please,)  again  simply  leads  to  num- 
bers of  the  same  class. 

A  totally  new  domain  of  numbers  is  reached,  however,  when  we 
attempt  to  impart  meaning  to  the  square  roots  of  negative  numbers. 
The  square  root  of  minus  9  is  neither  equal  to  plus  3  nor  to  minus 
3,  since  each  multiplied  by  itself  gives  plus  9,  nor  is  it  equal  to  any 
other  number  hitherto  defined.  Accordingly,  the  square  root  of  minus 
9  is  a  new  number-form,  to  which,  harmoniously  with  the  principle 
of  no  exception,  we  may  give  the  definition  that  (|/ — 9)2  shall  al- 
ways be  put  equal  to  minus  9.*  Keeping  to  this  definition  we  see 
at  once  that  ]/ — a,  where  a  is  any  positive  rational  or  irrational 
number,  is  a  symbol  which  can  be  put  equal  to  the  product  of  y  '*-  a 
with  l/ —  i.  In  extending  to  these  new  numbers  the  rights  of  arith- 
metical citizenship,  in  calling  them  also  "numbers,"  and  so  shaping 
their  definition  that  we  can  reckon  with  them  by  the  same  rules  as 
with  already  defined  numbers,  we  obtain  a  fourth  extension  of  the 
domain  of  numbers  which  has  become  of  the  greatest  importance 
for  the  progress  of  all  branches  of  mathematics.  The  newly  defined 
numbers  are  called  imaginary,  in  contradistinction  to  all  heretofore 
defined,  which  are  called  real.  Since  all  imaginary  numbers  can  be 
represented  as  products  of  real  numbers  with  the  square  root  of 
minus  one,  it  is  convenient  to  introduce  for  this  one  imaginary  num 
ber  some  concise  symbol.  This  symbol  is  the  first  letter  of  the  word 
imaginary,  namely,  /;  so  that  we  can  always  put  for  such  an  ex- 
pression as  V —  9,  3 .  /. 

If  we  combine  real  and  imaginary  numbers  by  operations  of  the 

*  Henceforward  we  shall  use  the  simpler  sign  )/  for  f . 


MONISM  IN  ARITHMETIC.  577 

first  and  second  degree,  always  supposing  that  we  follow  in  our 
reckoning  with  imaginary  numbers  the  same  rules  that  we  do  in 
reckoning  with  real  numbers,  we  always  arrive  again  at  real  or 
imaginary  numbers,  excepting  when  we  join  together  a  real  and  an 
imaginary  number  by  addition  or  its  inverse  operations.  In  this 
case  we  reach  the  symbol  a  -j-  i -  b,  where  a  and  b  stand  for  real  num- 
bers. Agreeably  to  the  principle  of  no  exception  we  are  permitted 
to  reckon  with  a  -f-  ib  according  to  the  same  rules  of  computation  as 
with  symbols  previously  defined,  if  for  the  second  power  of  /  we 
always  substitute  minus  i. 

In  the  numerical  combination  a-\-  ib,  which  we  also  call  num- 
ber, we  have  found  the  most  general  numerical  form  to  which  the 
laws  of  arithmetic  can  lead,  even  though  we  wished  to  extend  the 
limits  of  arithmetic  still  further.  Of  course,  we  must  represent  to 
ourselves  here  by  a  and  b  either  zero  or  positive  or  negative  rational 
or  irrational  numbers.  If  b  is  zero,  a  -j-  ib  represents  all  real  num- 
bers ;  if  a  is  zero,  it  stands  for  all  purely  imaginary  numbers.  This 
general  number  a  -\-  ib  is  called  a  complex  number,  so  that  the  com- 
plex number  includes  in  itself  as  special  cases  all  numbers  hereto- 
fore defined.  By  the  introduction  of  irrational,  purely  imaginary, 
and  the  still  more  general  complex  numbers,  all  combinations  be- 
come invested  with  meaning  which  the  operations  of  the  third  de- 
gree can  produce.  For  example,  the  fifth  root  of  5  is  an  irrational 
number,  the  logarithm  of  2  to  the  base  10  is  an  irrational  number. 
The  logarithm  of  minus  i  to  the  base  2  is  a  purely  imaginary  num- 
ber ;  the  fourth  root  of  minus  i  is  a  complex  number.  Indeed,  we 
may  recognise,  proceeding  still  further,  that  every  combination  of  two 
complex  numbers,  by  means  of  any  of  the  operations  of  the  first,  second, 
or  third  degree  will  lead  in  turn  to  a  complex  number,  that  is  to  say, 
never  furnishes  occasion,  by  application  of  the  principle  of  no  ex- 
ception, for  inventing  new  forms  of  numbers. 

A  certain  limit  is  thus  reached  in  the  construction  of  arithmetic. 
But  such  a  limit  was  also  twice  previously  reached.  After  the  in- 
vestigation of  addition  and  its  inverse  operations,  we  reached  no 
other  numbers  except  zero  and  positive  and  negative  whole  num- 
bers, and  every  combination  of  such  numbers  by  operations  of  the 


578  THE    MONIST. 

first  degree  led  to  no  new  numbers.  After  the  investigation  of  mul- 
tiplication and  its  inverse  operations,  the  positive  or  negative  frac- 
tional numbers  and  "infinitely  great"  were  added,  and  again  we 
could  say  that  the  combination  of  two  already  defined  numbers 
by  operations  of  the  first  and  second  degree  in  turn  also  always 
led  to  numbers  already  defined.  Now  we  have  reached  a  point  at 
which  we  can  say  that  the  combination  of  two  complex  numbers  by 
all  operations  of  the  first,  second,  and  third  degree  must  again 
always  lead  to  complex  numbers  ;  only  that  now  such  a  combina- 
tion does  not  necessarily  always  lead  to  a  single  number,  but  may 
lead  to  many  regularly  arranged  numbers.  For  example,  the  com- 
bination "logarithm  of  minus  one  to  a  positive  base"  furnishes  a 
countless  number  of  results  which  form  an  arithmetical  series  of 
purely  imaginary  numbers.  Still,  in  no  case  now  do  we  arrive  at  new 
classes  of  numbers.  But  just  as  before  the  ascent  from  multiplication 
to  involution  brought  in  its  train  the  definition  of  new  numbers,  so 
it  is  also  possible  that  some  new  operation  springing  out  of  involution 
as  involution  sprang  from  multiplication  might  furnish  the  germ  of  other 
new  numbers  which  are  not  reducible  to  a  -j-  ib.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
mathematicians  have  asked  themselves  this  question  and  investi- 
gated the  direct  operation  of  the  fourth  degree,  together  with  its 
inverse  processes.  The  result  of  their  investigations  was,  that  an 
operation  which  springs  from  involution  as  involution  sprang  from 
multiplication  is  incapable  of  performing  any  real  mathematical  ser- 
vice;  the  reason  of  which  is,  that  in  involution  the  laws  of  commu- 
tation and  association  do  not  hold.  It  also  further  appeared  that 
the  operations  of  the  fourth  degree  could  not  give  rise  to  new  num- 
bers. No  more  so  can  operations  of  still  higher  degrees.  With 
respect  to  quaternions,  which  many  might  be  disposed  to  regard  as 
new  numbers,  it  will  be  evident  that  though  quaternions  are  valu- 
able means  of  investigation  in  geometry  and  mechanics  they  are  not 
numbers  of  arithmetic,  because  the  rules  of  arithmetic  are  not  un- 
conditionally applicable  to  them. 

The  building  up  of  arithmetic  is  thus  completed.  The  exten- 
sions of  the  domain  of  number  are  ended.  It  only  remains  to  be 
asked  why  the  science  of  arithmetic  appears  in  its  structure  so  logi- 


MONISM  IN  ARITHMETIC.  579 

cal,  natural,  and  unarbitrary ;  why  zero,  negative,  and  fractional 
numbers  appear  as  much  derived  and  as  little  original  as  irrational, 
imaginary,  and  complex  numbers?  We  answer,  wholly  and  alone  in 
virtue  of  the  logical  application  of  the  monistic  principle  of  arith- 
metic, the  principle  of  no  exception. 

HERMANN  SCHUBERT. 
HAMBURG. 


OUTLINES  OF  A  HISTORY  OF  INDIAN 
PHILOSOPHY. 

A  DISTINCTIVE  leaning  to  metaphysical  speculation  is  notice- 
-^~*-  able  among  the  Indians  from  the  earliest  times.  Old  hymns 
of  the  Rigveda,  which  in  other  aspects  are  still  deeply  rooted  in  the 
soil  of  polytheism,  show  already  the  inclination  to  comprehend  mul- 
tifarious phenomena  as  a  unity,  and  may  therefore  be  regarded  as 
the  first  steps  in  the  path  which  led  the  old  Indian  people  to  pan- 
theism. Monotheistic  ideas  also  occur  in  the  later  Vedic  hymns,  but 
are  not  developed  with  sufficient  logic  to  displace  the  multiform 
world  of  gods  from  the  consciousness  of  the  people. 

The  properly  philosophical  hymns,  of  which  there  are  few  in 
the  Rigveda,  and  not  many  more  in  the  Atharvaveda,  belong  to  the 
latest  products  of  the  Vedic  poetry.  They  concern  themselves  with 
the  problem  of  the  origin  of  the  world,  and  with  the  eternal  principle 
that  creates  and  maintains  the  world,  in  obscure  phraseology,  and  in 
unclear,  self-contradictory  trains  of  thought,  as  might  be  expected  of 
the  early  beginnings  of  speculation.  The  Yajurvedas,  also,  contain 
remarkable  and  highly  fantastic  cosmogonic  legends,  in  which  the 
world-creator  produces  things  by  the  all-powerful  sacrifice.  It  is 
worthy  of  notice  that  the  ideas  of  these  portions  of  the  Veda  are  in- 
timately related  with  those  of  the  earlier  Upanishads,  in  fact  in 
many  respects  are  identical ;  *  their  connexion  is  also  further  evinced 
by  the  fact  that  both  in  these  Upanishads  and  in  the  cosmogonic 
hymns  and  legends  of  the  Veda  the  subjects  discussed  make  their 

*  Compare  on  this  point  Lucian  Scherman,  Philosophische  Hymnen  aus  der 
Rig-  und  Atharva-Veda-Sanhitd  verglichen  mit  den  Philosophemen  der  dlteren  Upa- 
nishads, Strassburg-London,  1887. 


OUTLINES  OF  A  HISTORY  OF  INDIAN  PHILOSOPHY.  581 

appearance  absolutely  without  order.  Still,  the  pre-Buddhistic  Upan- 
ishads, and,  in  part,  also  their  precursors,  the  Brahmanas,  which 
dealt  essentially  with  ritualistic  questions,  and  the  more  speculative 
Aranyakas,  are  of  the  greatest  importance  for  our  studies ;  for  they 
represent  a  time  (that  extending  from  the  eighth  to  the  sixth  cen- 
tury about)  in  which  the  ideas  were  developed  that  became  deter- 
minative of  the  whole  subsequent  direction  of  Indian  thought :  * 
first  and  above  all,  the  doctrine  of  the  transmigration  of  souls,  and 
the  theory  intimately  connected  therewith  of  the  subsequent  effects 
of  actions  (karmari}.  The  belief  that  every  individual  unceasingly 
moves  forward  after  death  towards  new  existences  in  which  it  will 
enjoy  the  fruits  of  formerly  won  merits,  and  will  surfer  the  conse- 
quences of  formerly  committed  wrongs — whether  in  the  bodies  of 
men,  animals,  or  plants,  or  in  heavens  and  hells — has  dominated  the 
Indian  people  from  that  early  period  down  to  the  present  day.  The 
idea  was  never  made  the  subject  of  philosophical  demonstration,  but 
was  regarded  as  something  self-evident,  which,  with  the  exception  of 
the  Charvakas,  or  Materialists,  no  philosophical  school  or  religious 
sect  of  India  ever  doubted. 

The  origin  of  the  Indian  belief  in  metempsychosis  is  unfortu- 
nately still  much  shrouded  in  obscurity.  In  the  old  Vedic  time  a 
joyful  view  of  life  prevailed  in  India  in  which  we  discover  no  germs 
whatever  of  the  conception  which  subsequently  dominated  and  op- 
pressed the  thought  of  the  whole  nation  ;  as  yet  the  nation  did  not 
feel  life  as  a  burden  but  as  the  supreme  good,  and  its  eternal  con- 
tinuance after  death  was  longed  for  as  the  reward  of  a  pious  life.  In 
the  place  of  this  innocent  joy  of  life  suddenly  enters,  without  notice- 
able evidences  of  transition,  the  conviction  that  the  existence  of  the 
individual  is  a  journey  full  of  torments  from  death  to  death.  It  is 
natural  enough,  therefore,  to  suspect  foreign  influence  in  this  sudden 
revolution  of  thought. 

*  Compare  A.  E.  Gough,  The  Philosophy  of  the  Upanishads  and  Ancient  Meta- 
physics, London,  1882.  The  singular  unfavorable  judgment  of  the  whole  philo- 
sophy of  the  Upanishads  which  Gough  pronounces  in  the  opening  of  his  otherwise 
valuable  book,  may  perhaps  be  explained  by  the  morbid  aversion  to  all  things  In- 
dian, which  difficult  and  absorbing  work  so  very  frequently  produces  in  Europeans 
dwelling  any  length  of  time  in  India. 


582  THE  MONIST. 

I  do  not  believe  that  Voltaire's  rationalistic  explanation  of  the 
origin  of  the  Indian  doctrine  of  the  transmigration  of  souls  now 
counts  any  adherents  in  professional  circles  ;  but  it  is  remarkable 
enough  to  merit  a  passing  notice.  According  to  the  theory  of  the 
ingenious  Frenchman  the  knowledge  that  the  use  of  meat  was  upon 
the  whole  injurious  to  health  in  the  climate  of  India  was  the  ground 
of  the  prohibition  to  kill  animals.  This  originally  purely  hygienic 
prescript  was  clothed  in  religious  trappings  and  the  people  thus 
gradually  grew  accustomed  to  reverence  and  to  worship  animals. 
The  consequence  of  the  further  extension  of  this  animal  cult  then 
was,  that  the  whole  animal  kingdom  was  felt  as  a  sort  of  appurte- 
nance to  the  human  species  and  was  gradually  assimilated  to  man 
in  the  imagination  of  the  people  ;  from  there  it  was  simply  a  step 
to  accept  the  continuance  of  human  life  in  the  bodies  of  animals. 
This  whole  hypothesis  has  long  since  been  rejected,  and  also  several 
subsequent  attempts  at  explanation  must  be  regarded  as  unsuc- 
cessful. 

A  suggestion  of  Gough  ("  The  Philosophy  of  the  Upanishads," 
pp.  24-25)  alone  demands  more  serious  consideration.  It  is  well 
known  that  the  belief  that  the  human  soul  passes  after  death  into 
the  trunks  of  trees  and  the  bodies  of  animals  is  extremely  wide- 
spread among  half-savage  tribes.*  On  the  basis  of  this  fact,  Gough 
assumes  that  the  Aryans,  on  their  amalgamation  with  the  original 
indigenous  inhabitants  of  India,  received  from  these  the  idea  of  the 
continuance  of  life  in  animals  and  trees.  Although  this  assumption 
can  never  be  made  the  subject  of  proof,  f  the  idea,  in  my  opinion,  is 

*  ' '  The  Sonthals  are  said  to  believe  the  souls  of  the  good  to  enter  into  fruit- 
bearing  trees.  The  Powhattans  believed  the  souls  of  their  chiefs  to  pass  into  par- 
ticular wood-birds,  which  they  therefore  spared.  The  Tlascalans  of  Mexico  thought 
that  the  souls  of  their  nobles  migrated  after  death  into  beautiful  singing-birds,  and 
the  spirits  of  plebeians  into  beetles,  weasels,  and  other  insignificant  creatures.  The 
Zulus  of  South  Africa  are  said  to  believe  the  passage  of  the  dead  into  snakes,  or 
into  wasps  and  lizards.  The  Dayaks  of  Borneo  imagine  themselves  to  find  the 
souls  of  the  dead,  damp  and  bloodlike,  in  the  trunks  of  trees."  Gough,  following 
Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  Vol.  II,  p.  6  et  seq. 

f  One  noteworthy  passage  bearing  on  this  point  may  be  found  in  Baudh^yana's 
Dharma§astra  II.  8.  14.  9,  10,  where  it  is  prescribed  that  dumplings  of  flour  should 
be  thrown  to  the  birds,  just  as  they  are  offered  in  the  usual  ancestral  sacrifices,  ' '  for 
it  is  said  that  our  ancestors  hover  about  in  the  shape  of  birds." 


OUTLINES  OF  A  HISTORY   OF  INDIAN  PHILOSOPHY.  583 

very  probable,  because  it  explains  what  no  other  combinations  do 
sufficiently  explain.  But  we  must  be  on  our  guard  lest  we  overrate 
the  influence  of  the  crude  conceptions  of  the  aborigines.  With  all 
tribes  low  in  the  scale  of  civilisation  the  idea  implied  in  such  beliefs 
is  not  that  of  a  transmigration  of  souls  in  the  Indian  sense,  but  sim- 
ply the  notion  of  a  continuance  of  human  existence  in  animals  and 
trees  ;  with  this,  reflexion  on  the  subject  reaches  its  goal ;  further 
consequences  are  not  drawn  from  the  idea.  Under  all  circumstances, 
therefore,  the  Aryan  Indians  can  have  received  only  the  first  impetus 
to  the  development  of  the  theory  of  transmigration  from  the  aborig- 
inal inhabitants ;  the  elaboration  of  the  idea  they  borrowed — the 
assumption  of  a  constant,  changing  continuance  of  life,  and  its  con- 
nexion with  the  doctrine  of  the  power  of  deeds,  having  in  view  the 
satisfaction  of  the  moral  consciousness — must  always  be  regarded  as 
their  own  peculiar  achievement.  The  dominating  idea  of  this  doc- 
trine is  the  firm  conviction  that  unmerited  misfortune  can  befall  no 
one.  On  the  ground  of  this  conviction  an  explanation  was  sought 
for  the  fact  of  daily  observation  that  the  bad  fare  well,  and  the  good 
fare  ill ;  that  animals,  and  often  even  the  new-born  child,  who  have 
had  no  opportunity  to  incur  guilt,  must  suffer  the  greatest  agonies ; 
and  no  other  explanation  was  found  than  the  assumption  that  in  this 
life  are  expiated  the  good  and  bad  deeds  of  a  former  existence.  But 
what  held  true  of  that  existence  must  also  have  held  true  of  the  one 
which  preceded  it ;  again  the  reason  of  formerly  experienced  happi- 
ness and  misery  could  only  be  found  in  a  preceding  life.  And  thus 
there  was  no  limit  whatever  to  the  existence  of  the  individual  in  the 
past.  The  Samsara,  the  cycle  of  life,  has,  therefore,  no  beginning ;  for 
"the  work  (that  is,  the  conduct  or  actions)  of  beings  is  beginning- 
less."  But  what  has  no  beginning  has  by  a  universally  admitted 
law  also  no  end.  The  Samsara,  therefore,  never  ceases,  no  more 
than  it  never  began.  When  the  individual  receives  the  rewards  for 
his  good  and  his  bad  deeds,  a  residuum  of  merit  and  guilt  is  always 
left  which  is  not  consumed  and  which  demands  its  recompense  or 
its  punishment,  and,  therefore,  still  acts  as  the  germ  of  a  new  ex- 
istence. Unexpiated  or  unrewarded  no  deed  remains;  for  "as 
among  a  thousand  cows  a  calf  finds  its  mother,  so  the  previously 


584 


THE   MONIST. 


done  deed  follows  after  the  doer,"  says  the  Mahabharata,  giving  in 
words  the  view  which  had  long  since  become  in  India  the  universal 
belief.  Now,  as  the  cause  of  all  action  is  desire,  desire  was  declared 
to  be  the  motive  power  of  the  eternal  continuance  of  life.  Again, 
as  desire  was  conceived  by  the  Indian  mind  to  have  its  root  in  a  sort 
of  ignorance,  in  a  mistaking  of  the  true  nature  and  value  of  things, 
in  ignorance,  it  was  thought,  the  last  cause  of  Samsara  was  hidden. 
Equally  as  old  is  the  conviction  that  the  law  which  fetters  living 
beings  to  the  existence  of  the  world  can  be  broken.  There  is  salva- 
tion from  the  Samsara;  and  the  means  thereto  is  the  saving  knowl- 
edge, which  is  found  by  every  philosophical  school  of  India  in  some 
special  form  of  cognition. 

The  dogmas  here  developed  are  summarised  by  Deussen,  "  Sys- 
tem des  Vedanta, "  pp.  381-382,  in  the  following  appropriate  words  : 
"The  idea  is  this,  that  life,  in  quality  as  well  as  in  quantity,  is  the 
precisely  meted,  absolutely  appropriate  expiation  of  the  deeds  of 
the  previous  existence.  This  expiation  is  accomplished  by  bhoktri- 
tvam  and  kartritvam  (enjoying  and  acting),  where  the  latter  again 
is  converted  into  works  which  must  be  expiated  afresh  in  a  subse- 
quent existence,  so  that  the  clock-work  of  atonement  in  running 
down  always  winds  itself  up  again  ;  and  this  unto  all  eternity  — un- 
less the  universal  knowledge  appears  which  ....  does  not  rest  on 
merit  but  breaks  into  life  without  connexion  with  it,  to  dissolve  it  in 
its  innermost  elements,  to  burn  up  the  seeds  of  works,  and  thus  to 
make  impossible  for  all  future  time  a  continuance  of  the  transmigra- 
tion." 

What  Deussen  here  expounds  as  a  doctrine  of  the  Vedanta  sys- 
tem is  a  body  of  ideas  which  belongs  alike  to  all  systems  of  Brahman 
philosophy  and  to  Buddhism  and  Jinism.  But  the  power  which  in- 
heres in  the  actions  of  beings  extends,  according  to  the  Indian  idea, 
still  farther  than  was  stated  in  the  preceding  exposition.  This  sub- 
sequent effectiveness  of  guilt  and  of  merit,  usually  called  adrishta 
"the  invisible,"  also  often  simply  karman,  "deed,  work,"  not  only 
determines  the  measure  of  happiness  and  suffering  which  falls  to  the 
lot  of  each  individual,  but  also  determines  the  origin  and  evolution 
of  all  things  in  the  universe.  At  bottom  this  last  thought  is  only  a 


OUTLINES  OF  A   HISTORY  OF  INDIAN  PHILOSOPHY.  585 

necessary  consequence  of  the  theory  that  every  being  is  the  architect 
of  its  own  fate  and  fortunes  into  the  minutest  details  ;  for  whatever 
comes  to  pass  in  the  world,  some  creature  is  inevitably  affected  by 
it,  and  must,  therefore,  by  the  law  of  atonement  have  brought  about 
the  event  by  his  previous  acts.  The  operations  of  nature,  there- 
fore, are  the  effects  of  the  good  and  bad  actions  of  living  beings. 
When  trees  bear  fruits,  or  the  grain  of  the  fields  ripens,  the  power 
which  is  the  cause  of  this,  according  to  the  Indian,  is  human  merit. 

Even  in  the  systems  which  accept  a  God,  the  sole  office  of  the 
Deity  is  to  guide  the  world  and  the  fates  of  creatures  in  strict  agree- 
ment with  the  law  of  retribution,  which  even  he  cannot  break.  For 
the  many  powers  to  which  the  rest  of  the  world,  orthodox  and  un- 
orthodox, ascribe  a  determinative  influence  on  the  lot  of  individuals 
and  nations  as  also  on  the  control  of  the  forces  of  nature, — divine 
grace  and  punishment,  the  order  of  the  world,  foresight,  fate,  acci- 
dent,— in  India  there  is  no  place  by  the  side  of  the  power  of  the 
work  or  deed  which  rules  all  with  iron  necessity.  On  these  assump- 
tions all  Indian  philosophy,  with  the  exception  of  materialism,  is 
founded. 

The  most  important  theme  of  the  early  Upanishads,  which  stand 
at  the  head  of  the  real  philosophical  literature  of  India,  is,  as  we 
know,  the  question  of  the  Eternally-One.  The  treatment  of  this 
question  forces  all  other  considerations  into  the  background  and 
culminates  in  the  principle  that  the  Atman,  the  innermost  self,  the 
soul  of  the  individual  is  one  with  the  Brahman,  the  eternal,  infinite 
power  which  is  the  ground  of  all  existence.  In  opposition  to  this 
idealistic  monism  of  the  Upanishads,  Kapila  founded  the  oldest  real 
philosophical  system  of  India  in  the  atheistic  Samkhya  philosophy, 
which  bears  a  strictly  dualistic  character  and  sees  in  the  knowledge 
of  the  absolute  difference  between  mind  and  matter  the  only  means 
of  attaining  the  highest  salvation,  that  is,  the  eternal  rest  of  con- 
sciousless  existence.  The  contents  of  this  system  have  already  been 
sketched  in  the  current  volume  of  The  Monist,  page  177;  an  ex- 
haustive exposition  of  its  principles  is  given  by  the  author  in  his  work 
on  the  "Samkhya  Philosophy,"  Leipsic,  H.  Haessel. 

In   all   main  outlines  the  Samkhya  system  supplied  the  founda- 


586 


THE  MON1ST. 


tions  of  Buddhism  and  Jinism,  two  philosophically  embellished  reli- 
gions, which  start  from  the  idea  that  this  life  is  nothing  but  suffering, 
and  always  revert  to  that  thought.  According  to  them,  the  cause  of 
suffering  is  the  desire  to  live  and  to  enjoy  the  delights  of  the  world, 
and  in  the  last  instance  the  "  ignorance  "  from  which  this  desire  pro- 
ceeds ;  the  means  of  the  abolition  of  this  ignorance,  and  therewith  of 
suffering,  is  the  annihilation  of  that  desire,  renunciation  of  the  world, 
and  a  most  boundless  exercise  of  practical  love  towards  all  creatures. 
In  the  subsequent  time,  it  is  true,  Buddhism  and  Jinism  so  devel- 
oped that  some  of  their  teachings  were  stoutly  contested  in  the 
Samkhya  writings.*  These  two  pessimistic  religions  are  so  extraor- 
dinarily alike,  that  the  Jaina,  that  is,  the  adherents  of  Jina,  were  for 
a  long  time  regarded  as  a  Buddhistic  sect,  until  it  was  discovered 
that  the  founders  of  the  two  religions  were  contemporaries,  who 
in  turn  are  simply  to  be  regarded  as  the  most  eminent  of  the  numer- 
ous teachers  who  in  the  sixth  century  before  Christ  in  North  Cen- 
tral India  opposed  the  ceremonial  doctrines  and  the  caste-system 
of  the  Brahmans.  The  true  significance  of  these  religions  lies  in 
their  high  development  of  ethics,  which  in  the  scholastic  Indian  phi- 
losophy was  almost  wholly  neglected.  Buddhism  and  Jinism  agree, 
however,  with  the  latter,  in  the  promise,  made  by  all  real  systems  of 
India,  to  redeem  man  from  the  torments  of  continued  mundane  life, 
and  in  their  perception  of  a  definite  ignorance  as  the  root  of  all  mun- 
dane evil  ;  but  in  the  philosophical  establishment  of  their  principles, 
both  method  and  clearness  of  thought  are  wanting,  t 

It  must  also  be  mentioned   in  this  connexion  that  the  religions 


*  One  question  here  was  of  the  doctrine  of  the  Jaina,  that  the  soul  has  the  same 
extension  as  the  body — a  thought  which  is  refuted  by  the  argument  that  everything 
bounded  is  perishable,  and  that  this  would  hold  good  with  all  the  more  force  of  the 
soul,  as  this  in  its  transmigration  through  different  bodies  must  be  assimilated  to  the 
bodies  that  receive  it,  that  is,  must  expand  and  contract,  a  feat  achievable  only  by  a 
thing  made  up  of  parts.  But  the  main  points  attacked  are  the  following  views  of 
Buddhism.  The  Samkhyas  principally  impugn  the  Buddhistic  denial  of  the  soul  as 
a  compact,  persistent  principle,  further  the  doctrine  that  all  things  possess  only  a 
momentary  existence,  and  that  salvation  is  the  annihilation  of  self.  From  this  it  is 
plain,  that  the  Samkhyas  of  the  later  epoch  saw  in  Buddhism,  which  nevertheless 
was  essentially  an  outgrowth  of  its  system,  one  of  its  principal  opponents. 

\  Compare  especially  the  Buddhistic  formula  of  the  causal  nexus  in  Oldenberg's 
Buddha,  Part  II,  Chapter  2. 


OUTLINES  OF  A  HISTORY  OF  INDIAN  PHILOSOPHY.  587 

of  Buddha  and  Jina  have  as  little  broken  with  the  mythological 
views  of  the  people  as  the  Brahmanic  philosophical  systems.  The 
existence  of  gods,  demigods,  and  demons  is  not  doubted,  but  is  of 
little  importance.  It  is  true,  the  gods  are  more  highly  organised 
and  more  fortunate  beings  than  men,  but  like  these  they  also  stand 
within  the  Samsara,  and  if  they  do  not  acquire  the  saving  knowl- 
edge and  thus  withdraw  from  mundane  existence,  must  also  change 
their  bodies  as  soon  as  the  power  of  their  formerly  won  merit  is 
exhausted.  They,  too,  have  not  escaped  the  power  of  death,  and 
they  therefore  stand  lower  than  the  man  who  has  attained  the  high- 
est goal.*  Much  easier  than  the  attainment  of  this  goal  is  it  to  lift 
oneself  by  virtue  and  good  works  to  the  divine  plane,  and  to  be  born 
again  after  death  on  the  moon  or  in  the  world  of  Indra  or  of  Brah- 
man, etc.,  even  in  the  person  of  one  of  these  gods;  but  only  foolish 
men  yearn  after  such  transitory  happiness. 

In  the  second  century  before  Christ  the  Yoga  philosophy  was 
founded  by  Patanjali.  In  part,  this  event  is  simply  the  literary  fixa- 
tion of  the  views  which  were  held  on  asceticism  and  on  the  mysterious 
powers  which  it  was  assumed  could  be  acquired  by  asceticism.  The 
Yoga,  that  is,  the  turning  away  of  the  senses  from  the  external  world, 
and  the  concentration  of  the  mind  within,  was  known  and  practised 
many  centuries  previously  in  India.  In  the  Buddhistic  communion, 
for  example,  the  state  of  ecstatic  abstraction  was  always  a  highly 
esteemed  condition.  Patanjali,  now,  elaborated  the  doctrine  of  con- 
centration into  a  system  and  described  at  length  the  means  of  attain- 
ing that  condition,  and  of  carrying  it  to  its  highest  pitch.  The 
methodical  performance  of  the  Yoga  practice,  according  to  Patanjali, 
leads  not  only  to  the  possession  of  the  supernatural  powers,  but  is 
also  the  most  effective  means  of  attaining  the  saving  knowledge. 

The  metaphysical  basis  of  the  Yoga  system  is  the  Samkhya  phi- 
losophy, whose  doctrines  Patanjali  so  completely  incorporated  into 
his  system  that  that  philosophy  is  with  justice  uniformly  regarded 


*  This  belief  in  developed,  ephemeral  gods  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  question 
of  the  eternal  God  accepted  in  some  systems.  The  use  of  a  special  word  (tfvara, 
"the  powerful  ")  in  the  Indian  philosophy  plainly  grew  out  of  the  endeavor  to  dis- 
tinguish verbally  between  this  god  and  the  popular  gods  ((leva}. 


588  THE  MONIST. 

in  Indian  literature  as  a  branch  of  the  Samkhya.  At  bottom,  all 
that  Patanjali  did  was  to  embellish  the  Samkhya  system  with  the 
Yoga  practice,  the  mysterious  powers,  and  the  personal  god  ;  his 
chief  aim  had,  no  doubt,  been  to  render  this  system  acceptable  to 
his  fellow-countrymen  by  the  eradication  of  its  atheism.  But  the 
insertion  of  the  personal  god,  which  subsequently  decisively  deter- 
mined the  character  of  the  Yoga  system,  was,  to  judge  from  the 
Yogasutras,  the  text-book  of  Patanjali,  at  first  accomplished  in  a 
very  loose  and  superficial  manner,  so  that  the  contents  and  purpose 
of  the  system  were  not  at  all  affected  by  it.  We  can  even  say  that 
the  Yogasutras  I.  23-27,  II.  i,  45,  which  treat  of  the  person  of  God, 
are  unconnected  with  the  other  parts  of  the  text-book,  nay,  even 
contradict  the  foundations  of  the  system.  The  ultimate  goal  of 
human  aspiration  according  to  that  text-book  is  not  union  with  or 
absorption  in  God,  but  exactly  what  it  is  in  the  Samkhya  philoso- 
phy, the  absolute  isolation  (kaivalya)  of  the  soul  from  matter.  When 
L.  von  Schroeder  ("Indiens  Literatur  und  Kultur,"  p.  687)  says: 
"  The  Yoga  bears  throughout  a  theistic  character;  it  assumes  a  prim- 
itive soul  from  which  the  individual  souls  proceed,"  his  statement 
is  incorrect,  for  the  individual  souls  are  just  as  much  beginningless 
as  the  "special  soul"  (J>urusha-vi$eshat  Yogasutra,  I.  24)  that  is 
called  God. 

In  contrast  to  these  two  closely  related  systems,  Samkhya  and 
Yoga,  the  ancient,  genuine  Brahmanic  elements,  the  ritual  and 
the  idealistic  speculation  of  the  Upanishads,  are  developed  in  a  me- 
thodical manner  in  the  two  following  intimately  connected  systems 
whose  origin  we  can  place  approximately  at  the^beginning  of  the 
Christian  era. 

The  Purva-(or  Karma-)mimamsa,  "the  first  inquiry,"  or  "the 
inquiry  concerning  works,"  usually  briefly  called  Mimamsa,  founded 
by  Jaimini,  is  probably  counted  among  the  philosophical  systems 
only  because  of  its  form  and  its  connexion  with  the  Vedanta  doc- 
trine ;  for  it  is  concerned  with  the  interpretation  of  the  Veda,  which 
it  holds  to  be  uncreated  and  existent  from  all  eternity  :  classifying 
its  component  parts,  and  treating  of  the  rules  for  the  performance 
of  the  ceremonies,  as  of  the  rewards  which  singly  follow  upon  the 


OUTLINES  OF  A  HISTORY  OF  INDIAN   PHILOSOPHY.  589 

latter.  This  last  is  the  main  theme  of  this  system,  in  which  the  true 
scriptural  scholarship  of  the  Brahmans  is  condensed.  Questions 
of  general  significance  are  only  incidentally  discussed  in  the  Mi- 
mamsa.  Especial  prominence  belongs  here  to  the  proposition  that 
the  articulate  sounds  are  eternal,  and  to  the  theory  based  upon  it, 
that  the  connexion  of  a  word  with  its  significance  is  independent  of 
human  agreement,  and,  consequently,  that  the  significance  of  a  word 
is  inherent  in  -the  word  itself,  by  nature.  Hitherto,  the  Mimamsa 
has  little  occupied  the  attention  of  European  indologists ;  the  best 
description  of  its  principal  contents  will  be  found  in  the  "Introduc- 
tory Remarks  "  of  G.  Thibaut's  edition  of  the  Arthasamgraha  (Be- 
nares Sanskrit  Series,  1882). 

The  Uttara-(or  Brahma-)mimamsa,  "the  second  inquiry,"  or 
"the  inquiry  into  the  Brahman,"  most  commonly  called  Vedanta, 
bears  some  such  relation  to  the  earlier  Upanishads  as,  to  use  an 
expression  of  Deussen's,  Christian  dogmatics  bear  to  the  New 
Testament.  Its  founder,  Badarayana,  accepted  and  further  devel- 
oped the  above-discussed  doctrines  of  the  Brahman-Atman,  into  the 
system  which  to  the  present  day  determines  the  world-view  of  the 
Indian  thinkers.  This  system  has  received  excellent  and  exhaus- 
tive treatment  in  the  above-cited  work  of  Deussen,  which  is  to  be 
emphatically  recommended  to  all  interested  in  Indian  philosophy. 
The  basis  of  the  Vedanta  is  the  principle  of  the  identity  of  our  Self 
with  the  Brahman.  Since,  now,  the  eternal,  infinite  Brahman  is 
not  made  up  of  parts,  and  cannot  be  subject  to  change,  consequently 
our  self  is  not  a  part  or  emanation  of  it,  but  is  the  whole,  indivisible 
Brahman.  Other  being  besides  this  there  is  not,  and,  accordingly, 
the  contents  of  the  Vedanta  system  are  comprehended  in  the 
expression  advaita  vdda,  "the  doctrine  of  non-duality."  The  ob- 
jection which  experience  and  the  traditional  belief  in  the  transmi- 
gration of  souls  and  in  retribution  raise  against  this  principle, 
has  no  weight  with  Badarayana  ;  experience  and  the  doctrine  of  re- 
tribution are  explained  by  the  ignorance  (avidyd},  inborn  in  man, 
which  prevents  the  soul  from  discriminating  between  itself,  its  body 
and  organs,  and  from  recognising  the  empirical  world  as  an  illusion 
(mdyd}.  The  Vedanta  philosophy  does  not  inquire  into  the  reason 


590  THE   MONIST. 

and  origin  of  this  ignorance  ;  it  simply  teaches  us  that  it  exists  and 
that  it  is  annihilated  by  knowledge  (vidyd}t  that  is,  by  the  universal 
knowledge  which  grasps  the  illusory  nature  of  all  that  is  not  soul, 
and  the  absolute  identity  of  the  soul  with  the  Brahman.  With  this 
knowledge,  the  conditions  of  the  continuance  of  the  mundane  ex- 
istence of  the  soul  are  removed — for  this  in  truth  is  only  semblance 
and  illusion — and  salvation  is  attained. 

In  this  way  are  the  Brahmasutras,  the  text-book  of  Badarayana, 
expounded  by  the  famous  exegetist  (^amkara  (towards  800  after 
Christ)  upon  whose  commentary  Deussen's  exposition  is  based. 
Now,  as  this  text-book,  like  the  chief  works  of  the  other  schools, 
is  clothed  in  the  form  of  aphorisms  not  intelligible  per  se,  we  are 
unable  to  prove  from  its  simple  verbal  tenor  that  ^amkara  was 
always  right  in  his  exegesis  ;  but  intrinsic  reasons  render  it  in  the 
highest  degree  probable  that  the  expositions  of  (^amkara  agree 
in  all  essential  points  with  the  system  which  was  laid  down  in  the 
Brahmasutras.  The  subsequent  periods  produced  a  long  succession 
of  other  commentaries  on  the  Brahmasutras,  which  in  part  give  ex- 
pression to  the  religio-philosophical  point  of  view  of  definite  sects. 
The  most  important  of  these  commentaries  is  that  of  Ramanuja, 
which  dates  from  the  first  half  of  the  twelfth  century.  Ramanuja  be- 
longed to  one  of  the  oldest  sects  of  India,  the  Bhagavatas  or  Pancha- 
ratras,  who  professed  an  originally  un-Brahmanic,  popular  monothe- 
ism, and  saw  salvation  solely  in  the  love  of  God  (bhakti).  Upon  the 
Brahmanisation  of  this  sect,  their  God  (usually  called  Bhagavant  or 
Vasudeva)  was  identified  with  Vishnu,  and  from  that  time  on  the 
Bhagavatas  are  considered  as  a  Vishnuitic  sect.  Its  doctrine,  which 
is  closely  related  to  Christian  ideas,  but,  in  my  opinion,  was  not 
constructed  under  Christian  influences,  is  chiefly  expounded  in  the 
Bhagavadgita,  in  the  Qandilyasutras,  in  the  Bhagavata  Purana,  and 
in  the  text-books  proper  of  the  sect,  among  which  we  may  also  reckon 
Ramanuja's  commentary  on  the  Brahmasutras.  According  to  the 
tenet  of  the  Bhagavatas,  the  individual  souls  are  not  identical  with 
the  highest  soul  or  God,  and  are  also  not  implicated  by  a  kind  of 
"ignorance"  in  mundane  existence,  but  by  unbelief.  Devout  love 
of  God  is  the  means  of  salvation,  that  is,  of  union  with  the  Highest. 


OUTLINES  OF  A  HISTORY  OF  INDIAN  PHILOSOPHY,,  5QI 

The  best  exposition  of  the  system  which  Ramanuja  imported  into  the 
Brahmasutras  will  be  found  in  R.  G.  Bhandarkar's  "Report  on  the 
Search  for  Sanskrit  Manuscripts  during  the  Year  1883-1884,"  Bom- 
bay, 1887,  p.  68  et  seq. 

As  of  the  systems  thus  far  considered  always  two  are  found  in- 
timately connected,  the  Samkhya-Yoga  on  the  one  hand,  and  the 
Mimamsa-Vedanta  on  the  other,  so  also  in  a  subsequent  period  the 
two  remaining  systems  which  passed  as  orthodox,  the  Vai9eshika 
and  the  Nyaya,  were  amalgamated.  The  reason  of  this  was  mani- 
festly the  circumstance  that  both  inculcated  the  origin  of  the  world 
from  atoms  and  were  signalised  by  a  sharp  classification  of  ideas  ; 
yet  the  Vaiceshika  system  is  certainly  of  much  greater  antiquity 
than  the  Nyaya.  The  former  is  already  attacked  in  the  Brahma- 
sutras 11.2.12-17,  where  at  the  conclusion  the  interesting  remark  is 
found  that  it  is  unworthy  of  consideration  because  no  one  embraced 
it.  But  in  a  subsequent  period  the  system,  far  from  being  despised, 
became  very  popular. 

Kanada  (Kanabhuj  or  Kanabhaksha)  is  considered  the  founder 
of  the  Vaiceshika  system ;  but  this  name,  which  signifies  etymologi- 
cally  "atom-eater,"  appears  to  have  been  originally  a  nickname 
suggested  by  the  character  of  the  system  ;  but  which  ultimately 
supplanted  the  true  name  of  the  founder. 

The  strength  of  the  system  is  contained  in  its  enunciation  of 
the  categories,  under  which,  as  Kanada  thought,  everything  that 
existed  might  be  subsumed  :  substance,  quality,  motion  (or  ac- 
tion), generality,  particularity,  and  inherence.  These  notions  are 
very  sharply  defined  and  broken  up  into  subdivisions.  Of  especial 
interest  to  us  is  the  category  of  inherence  or  inseparability  (sama- 
vdya).  This  relation,  which  is  rigorously  distinguished  from  acci- 
dental, soluble  connexion  (samyoga),  exists  between  the  thing  and 
its  properties,  between  the  whole  and  its  parts,  between  motion  and 
the  object  in  motion,  between  species  and  genus. 

Later  adherents  of  the  Vai9eshika  system  added  to  the  six  cate- 
gories a  seventh,  which  has  exercised  a  momentous  influence  on  the 
development  of  logical  inquiries :  non-existence  (abhdva).  With 
Indian  subtlety  this  category  also  is  divided  into  subspecies,  namely, 


592 


THE  MONIST. 


into  prior  and  posterior,  mutual  and  absolute  non  existence.  Put- 
ting it  positively,  we  should  say,  instead  of  "prior  non-existence,'* 
"future  existence, "instead  of  "posterior  non-existence,"  "past  ex- 
istence." "Mutual"  or  "reciprocal  non-existence"  is  that  relation 
which  obtains  between  two  non-identical  things,  (for  example,  the 
fact  that  a  jug  is  not  a  cloth  and  vice  versa] ;  ' '  absolute  non-existence  " 
is  illustrated  by  the  example  of  the  impossibility  of  fire  in  water. 

Now  Kanada  by  no  means  limited  himself  to  the  enunciation 
and  specialisation  of-the  categories.  He  takes  pains,  in  his  discus- 
sion of  them,  to  solve  the  most  various  problems  of  existence  and 
of  thought,  and  thus  to  reach  a  comprehensive  philosophical  view 
of  the  world.  The  category  substance,  under  which  notion,  accord- 
ing to  him,  earth,  water,  light,  air,  ether,  time,  space,  soul,  and  the 
organ  of  thought  fall,  affords  him  the  occasion  of  developing  his 
theory  of  the  origin  of  the  world  from  atoms  ;  the  category  quality, 
in  which  are  embraced  besides  the  properties  of  matter  also  the 
mental  properties  :  cognition,  joy,  pain,  desire,  aversion,  energy, 
merit,  guilt,  and  disposition,  leads  him  to  the  development  of  his 
psychology  and  to  the  exposition  of  his  theory  of  the  sources  of 
knowledge. 

The  psychological  side  of  this  system  is  very  remarkable  and 
exhibits  some  analogies  with  the  corresponding  views  of  the  Sam- 
khya  philosophy.  The  soul,  according  to  Kanada,  is  beginningless, 
eternal,  and  all-pervading,  that  is,  limited  neither  by  time  nor  space. 
If,  now,  the  soul  could  come  into  immediate  connexion  with  the  ob- 
jects of  knowledge,  all  objects  would  reach  consciousness  simulta- 
neously. That  this  is  not  the  case,  Kanada  explains  by  the  assump- 
tion of  the  organ  of  thought  or  inner  sense  (manas),  with  which  the 
soul  stands  in  the  most  intimate  connexion.  The  soul  knows  by 
means  of  this  manas  alone,  and  it  perceives  through  it  not  only  the 
external  things,  but  also  its  own  qualities.  The  manas,  as  contra- 
distinguished from  the  soul,  is  an  atom,  and  as  such  only  competent 
to  comprehend  one  object  in  each  given  instant. 

The  last  of  the  six  Brahmanic  systems,  the  Nyaya  philosophy 
of  Gotama,  is  a  development  and  complement  of  the  doctrines  of 
Kanada.  Its  special  significance  rests  in  its  extraordinarily  exhaus- 


OUTLINES  OF  A  HISTORY  OF  INDIAN   PHILOSOPHY.  593 

tive  and  acute  exposition  of  formal  logic,  which  has  remained  un- 
touched in  India  down  to  the  present  day,  and  serves  as  the  basis 
of  all  philosophical  studies.  The  doctrine  of  the  means  of  knowl- 
edge (perception,  inference,  analogy,  and  trustworthy  evidence),  of 
syllogisms,  fallacies,  and  the  like,  is  treated  with  the  greatest  ful- 
ness. The  importance  which  is  attributed  to  logic  in  the  Nyaya 
system  appears  from  the  very  first  Sutra  of  Gotama's  text  book  in 
which  sixteen  logical  notions  are  enumerated  with  the  remark  that 
the  attainment  of  the  highest  salvation  depends  upon  a  correct 
knowledge  of  their  nature.  The  psychology  of  the  Nyaya  agrees 
fully  with  that  of  the  Vai9eshika  system.  The  metaphysical  foun- 
dations, too,  are  the  same  here  as  in  that  system  ;  in  both,  the  world 
is  conceived  as  an  agglomeration  of  eternal,  unalterable,  and  cause- 
less atoms.  The  fundamental  text-books  of  the  two  schools,  the 
Vaiceshika  and  Nyaya  Sutras,  originally  did  not  accept  the  exist- 
ence of  God  ;  it  was  not  till  a  subsequent  period  that  the  two  sys- 
tems changed  to  theism,  although  neither  ever  went  so  far  as  to  as- 
sume a  creator  of  matter.  Their  theology  is  first  developed  in  Uda- 
yanacharya's  Kusumafijali  (towards  1300  after  Christ),  as  also  in  the 
works  which  treat  jointly  of  the  Nyaya  and  Vaiceshika  doctrines. 
According  to  them,  God  is  a  special  soul,  like  all  other  individual 
and  similarly  eternal  souls,  only  with  the  difference  that  to  him  those 
qualities  are  wanting  that  condition  the  transmigration  of  the  other 
souls,  or  that  are  conditioned  by  that  transmigration  (merit,  guilt, 
aversion,  joy,  pain),  and  that  he  alone  possesses  the  special  attributes 
of  omnipotence  and  omniscience,  by  which  he  is  made  competent  to 
be  the  guide  and  regulator  of  the  universe. 

In  the  first  centuries  after  Christ  an  eclectic  movement,  which 
was  chiefly  occupied  with  the  combination  of  the  Samkhya,  Yoga,  and 
Vedanta  theories,  was  started  in  India.  The  oldest  literary  produc- 
tion of  this  movement  is  the  (^veta^vatara  Upanishad,  composed  by 
a  Civite,  the  supreme  being  in  this  Upanishad  being  invested  with 
the  name  of  (yliva.  More  celebrated  than  this  Upanishad  is  the 
Bhagavadgita,  admired  equally  in  India  and  in  the  Occident  for  its 
loftiness  of  thought  and  expression — an  episode  of  the  Mahabharata. 
In  the  Bhagavadgita,  the  supreme  being  appears  incarnated  in  the 


594  THE  MONIST. 

person  of  Krishna,  who  stands  at  the  side  of  the  famous  bowman, 
Arjuna,  as  his  charioteer,  expounding  to  this  personage  shortly  be- 
fore the  beginning  of  a  battle  his  doctrines.  Nowhere  in  the  phil- 
osophical and  religious  literature  of  India  are  the  behests  of  duty  so 
beautifully  and  strongly  emphasised  as  here.  Ever  and  anon  does 
Krishna  revert  to  the  doctrine,  that  for  every  man,  no  matter  to 
what  caste  he  may  belong,  the  zealous  performance  of  his  duty  and 
the  discharge  of  his  obligations  is  his  most  important  work. 

The  six  systems  Mimamsa,  Vedanta,  Samkhya,  Yoga,  Vaice- 
shika,  and  Nyaya,  are  accepted  as  orthodox  (dstika)  by  the  Brah- 
mans ;  but  the  reader  will  notice,  that  in  India  this  term  has  a  dif- 
ferent significance  from  what  it  has  with  us.  In  that  country,  not 
only  has  the  most  absolute  freedom  of  thought  always  prevailed,  but 
also  philosophical  speculation,  even  in  its  boldest  forms,  has  placed 
itself  in  accord  with  the  popular  religion  to  an  extent  never  again 
realised  on  earth  between  these  two  hostile  powers.  One  concession 
only  the  Brahman  caste  demanded  ;  the  recognition  of  its  class- 
prerogatives  and  of  the  infallibility  of  the  Veda.  Whoever  agreed 
to  this  passed  as  orthodox,  and  by  having  done  so  assured  for  his 
teachings  much  greater  success  than  if  he  had  openly  proclaimed 
himself  a  heretic  (ndstika)  by  a  refusal  of  such  recognition.  The 
concession  demanded  by  the  Brahmans,  so  far  as  it  referred  to  Scrip- 
ture, needed  only  be  a  nominal  one  ;  it  compelled  neither  full  agree- 
ment with  the  doctrines  of  the  Veda,  nor  the  confession  of  any  belief 
in  the  existence  of  God. 

By  the  side  of  the  Brahmanic  and  non-Brahmanic  systems  men- 
tioned in  this  survey,  we  find  also  in  India  that  view  of  the  world 
which  is  "as  old  as  philosophy  itself,  but  not  older  ":  *  materialism. 
The  Sanskrit  word  for  "materialism"  is  lokdyata  ("directed  to  the 
world  of  sense  "),  and  the  materialists  are  called  lokdyatika  or  laukd- 
yatika,  but  are  usually  named,  after  the  founder  of  their  theory, 
Charvakas.  Several  vestiges  show,  that  even  in  pre  Buddhistic 
India,  proclaimers  of  purely  materialistic  doctrines  appeared  ;  and 
there  is  no  doubt  that  those  doctrines  had  ever  afterwards,  as  they 

*  The  first  words  of  Lange's  History  of  Materialism. 


OUTLINES  OF  A  HISTORY  OF  INDIAN  PHILOSOPHY.  595 

have  to-day,  numerous  secret  followers.  Although  one  source  (Bha- 
skaracharya  on  the  Brahmasutra  III.  3.  53)  attests  the  quondam  ex- 
istence of  a  text-book  of  materialism,  the  Sutras  of  Brihaspati  (the 
mythical  founder),  yet  in  all  India  materialism  found  no  other  liter- 
ary expression.  We  are  referred,  therefore,  for  an  understanding  of 
that  philosophy,  principally  to  the  polemics  which  were  directed 
against  it  in  the  text-books  of  the  other  philosophical  schools,  and 
to  the  first  chapter  of  the  Sarva-darcana-samgraha,  a  compendium 
of  all  philosophical  systems,  compiled  in  the  fourteenth  century  by 
the  well-known  Vedantic  teacher  Madhavacharya  (translated  into 
English  by  Cowell  and  Gough,  London,  1882),  in  which  the  system 
is  expounded.  Madhavacharya  begins  his  exposition  with  an  expres- 
sion of  regret  that  the  majority  of  mankind  espouse  the  materialism 
represented  by  Charvaka. 

Another  Vedantic  teacher,  Sadananda,  speaks  in  his  Vedantasara, 
§§  148-151,  of  four  materialistic  schools,  which  are  distinguished 
from  one  another  by  their  conception  of  the  soul ;  according  to  the 
first,  the  soul  is  identical  with  the  gross  body,  according  to  the  sec- 
ond, with  the  senses,  according  to  the  third,  with  the  breath,  and 
according  to  the  fourth,  with  the  organ  of  thought  or  the  internal 
sense  (manas*).  No  difference  in  point  of  principle  exists  between 
these  four  views ;  for  the  senses,  the  breath,  and  the  internal  organ 
are  really  only  attributes  or  parts  of  the  body.  Different  phases  of 
Indian  materialism  are,  accordingly,  not  to  be  thought  of. 

The  Charvakas  admit  perception  only  as  a  means  of  knowledge, 
and  reject  inference.  As  the  sole  reality  they  consider  the  four  ele- 
ments ;  that  is,  matter.  When  through  the  combination  of  the  ele- 
ments, the  body  is  formed,  then  by  their  doctrine  the  soul  also  is 
created  exactly  as  is  the  power  of  intoxication  from  the  mixture  of 
certain  ingredients.  With  the  annihilation  of  the  body,  the  soul 
also  is  annihilated.  The  soul,  accordingly,  is  nothing  but  the  body 
with  the  attribute  of  intelligence,  since  soul  different  from  the  body 
cannot  be  established  by  sense-perception.  Naturally,  all  other 
supra-sensual  things  also  are  denied,  and  in  part  treated  with  irony. 
Hell  is  earthly  pain  produced  by  earthly  causes.  The  highest  being 
is  the  king  of  the  land,  whose  existence  is  proved  by  the  perception 


596 


THE  MONIST. 


of  the  whole  world  ;  salvation  is  the  dissolution  of  the  body.  The 
after  effects  of  merit  and  of  guilt,  which  by  the  belief  of  all  other 
schools  determine  the  fate  of  every  individual  in  its  minutest  details, 
do  not  exist  for  the  Charvaka,  because  this  idea  is  reached  only  by 
inference.  To  the  animadversion  of  an  orthodox  philosopher  that  the 
varied  phenomena  of  this  world  have  no  cause  for  him  who  denies 
this  all-powerful  factor,  the  Charvaka  retorts,  that  the  true  nature  of 
things  is  the  cause  from  which  the  phenomena  proceed. 

The  practical  side  of  this  system  is  eudaemonism  of  the  crudest 
sort;  for  sensuous  delight  is  set  up  as  the  only  good  worth  striving 
for.  The  objection  that  sensuous  pleasures  cannot  be  the  highest 
goal  of  man  because  a  certain  measure  of  pain  is  always  mingled  with 
them,  is  repudiated  with  the  remark  that  it  is  the  business  of  our  in- 
telligence to  enjoy  pleasures  in  the  purest  form  possible,  and  to  with- 
draw ourselves  as  much  as  possible  from  the  pain  inseparably  con- 
nected with  them.  The  man  who  wishes  fish  takes  their  scales  and 
bones  into  the  bargain,  and  he  who  wishes  rice  takes  its  stalks.  It 
is  absurd,  therefore,  for  fear  of  pain,  to  give  up  pleasure,  which  we 
instinctively  feel  appeals  to  our  nature. 

The  Vedas  are  stigmatised  as  the  gossip  of  knaves,  infected 
with  the  three  faults  of  falsehood,  self-contradiction,  and  useless 
tautology,  and  the  advocates  of  Vedic  science  are  denounced  as 
cheats  whose  doctrines  annul  one  another*  For  the  Charvakas,  the 
Brahmanic  ritual  is  a  swindle,  and  the  costly  and  laborious  sacri- 
fices serve  only  the  purpose  of  procuring  for  the  rogues  who  perform 
them  a  subsistence.  "If  an  animal  sacrificed  gets  into  heaven,  why 
does  not  the  sacrificer  rather  slay  his  own  father?  "  No  wonder  that 
for  the  orthodox  Indian  the  doctrine  of  the  Charvakas  is  the  worst  of 
all  heresies.  The  text-books  of  the  orthodox  schools  seek,  as  was 
said  above,  to  refute  this  dangerous  materialism.  As  an  example, 
we  may  cite  the  refutation  of  the  doctrine  that  there  is  no  means  of 
knowledge  except  perception,  given  in  the  Samkhya-tattva-kaumudi, 
§  5,  where  we  read  :  "When  the  materialist  affirms  that  'inference  is 
"not  a  means  of  knowledge,'  how  is  it  that  he  can  know  that  a  man 
"is  ignorant,  or  in  doubt,  or  in  error?  For  truly,  ignorance,  doubt, 
"and  error  cannot  possibly  be  discovered  in  other  men  by  sense- 


OUTLINES  OF  A  HISTORY  OF  INDIAN  PHILOSOPHY.  597 

"perception.  Accordingly,  even  by  the  materialist,  ignorance,  etc., 
"in  other  men  must  be  inferred  from  conduct  and  from  speech,  and, 
"therefore,  inference  recognised  as  a  means  of  knowledge  even 
"against  the  materialist's  will." 

Besides  the  systems  here  briefly  reviewed,  the  above-mentioned 
Sarva-dar9ana-samgraha  enumerates  six  more  schools,  which  on  ac- 
count of  their  subordinate  importance  and  their  not  purely  philo- 
sophical character  may  be  passed  over  in  this  survey.  There  is 
question  first  of  a  Vishnuitic  sect  founded  by  Anandatirtha  (or  Pur- 
naprajna),  and  secondly  of  four  Qivite  sects,  the  names  of  whose 
systems  are  Nakuli9a-Pa9upata,  Qaiva,  Pratyabhijna,  and  Rase9vara. 
The  doctrines  of  these  five  sects  are  strongly  impregnated  with  Ve- 
dantic  and  Samkhya  tenets.  The  sixth  system  is  that  of  Panini,  that 
is  grammatical  science,  which  is  ranked  in  Madhava's  Compendium 
among  the  philosophies,  because  the  Indian  grammarians  accepted 
the  dogma  of  the  eternity  of  sound  taught  in  the  Mimamsa,  and  be- 
cause they  developed  in  a  philosophical  fashion  a  theory  of  the  Yoga 
system,  namely  the  theory  of  the  Sphota,  or  the  indivisible,  unitary 
factor  latent  in  every  word  as  the  vehicle  of  its  significance. 

If  we  pass  in  review  the  plenitude  of  the  attempts  made  in  India 
to  explain  the  enigmas  of  the  world  and  of  our  existence,  the  Sam- 
khya philosophy  claims  our  first  and  chief  attention,  because  it  alone 
attempts  to  solve  its  problems  solely  with  the  means  of  reason.  The 
genuinely  philosophical  spirit  in  which  its  method  is  manipulated 
of  rising  from  the  known  factors  of  experience  to  the  unknown  by 
the  path  of  logical  demonstration,  thus  to  reach  a  knowledge  of  the 
final  cause,  is  acknowledged  with  admiration  by  all  inquirers  who  have 
seriously  occupied  themselves  with  this  system.  In  Kapila's  doc- 
trine, for  the  first  time  in  the  history  of  the  world,  the  complete  in- 
dependence and  freedom  of  the  human  mind,  its  full  confidence  in 
its  own  powers  were  exhibited.  Although  John  Davies  (Sankhya  Ka- 
rika,  p.  V)  slightly  exaggerates  matters  when  he  says  "The  system 
of  Kapila  ....  contains  nearly  all  that  India  has  produced  in  the  de- 
partment of  pure  philosophy,"  yet  Kapila's  system  may  claim,  more 
than  any  other  product  of  the  fertile  Indian  mind,  the  interest  of 


598  THE  MONIST. 

those  contemporaries  whose  view  of  the  world  is  founded  on  the  re- 
sults of  modern  physical  science. 

As  for  those  who  feel  they  are  justified  from  a  monistic  point 
of  view  in  looking  down  slightingly  upon  a  dualistic  conception 
of  the  world,  the  words  of  E.  Roer  in  the  Introduction  of  the 
Bhashapariccheda,  p.  XVI,  may  be  quoted  :  "Though  a  higher  de- 
velopment of  philosophy  may  destroy  the  distinctions  between 
"soul  and  matter,  that  is,  may  recognise  matter,  or  what  is  per- 
"ceived  as  matter,  as  the  same  with  the  soul  (as  for  instance,  Leib- 
niz did),  it  is  nevertheless  certain,  that  no  true  knowledge  of  the 
"soul  is  possible,  without  first  drawing  a  most  decided  line  of  de- 
"marcation  between  the  phenomena  of  matter  and  of  the  soul." 
This  sharp  line  of  demarcation  between  the  two  domains  was  first 
drawn  by  Kapila.  The  knowledge  of  the  difference  between  body 
and  soul  is  one  condition,  as  it  is  also  an  indispensable  condition, 
of  arriving  at  a  true  monism.  Every  view  of  the  world  which  con- 
founds this  difference  can  supply  at  best  a  one-sided  henism,  be  it 
a  spiritualism  or  an  equally  one-sided  materialism. 

R.  GARBE. 

KONIGSBERG,    PRUSSIA. 


LITERARY  CORRESPONDENCE. 

FRANCE. 

M.  FR.  PAULHAN  offers  us  in  his  new  work,  Les  caracteres,  a 
study  of  concrete  psychology,  which  he  connects  with  the  general 
system  of  psychology  already  known  to  your  readers.  Two  classi- 
fications of  characters  have  been  recently  proposed  :  one  by  M.  Ber- 
nard Perez,*  in  a  work  of  which  I  have  already  spoken  in  this  place  ; 
the  other  by  M.  Ribot  in  his  course  at  the  College  de  France  (see 
the  article  in  the  Revue philosophique  for  November,  1892).  M.  Pe"- 
rez  establishes  his  types  by  the  nature  of  the  movements  which  in 
his  judgment  are  the  revelations  of  the  character.  Rapidity,  slow- 
ness, and  energy  of  movements  give  him  les  vifs,  les  lents,  les  ardents, 
or,  as  we  might  translate  them,  the  quick,  the  sluggish,  and  the  ar- 
dent, and  by  combination  the  quick-ardent,  the  slow-ardent,  and  the 
balanced.  This,  if  I  may  be  allowed  the  expression,  is  a  classifica- 
tion of  the  ground-floor.  That  of  M.  Ribot  is  one  of  two  or  three 
stories.  This  author  finds  the  dominant  traits  of  character  in  feel- 
ing and  action;  these  furnish  him  with  three  classes  or  generic 
types,  the  sensitive  or  emotional,  the  active  or  energetic,  and  the 
apathetic.  Each  one  of  these  genera  is  in  turn  subdivided  into  spe- 
cific types,  based  (I  omit  all  details)  on  the  variable  proportions  in 
which  the  intellect,  taken  for  character  of  the  second  stage,  is  min- 
gled with  sensibility  and  activity.  The  last  types,  called  composite 


*  Le  caractere.  The  fifth  revised  edition  of  M.  Perez's  Les  trois  premieres  an- 
ndes  de  I  'enfant,  and  the  third  edition  of  his  L? enfant  de  trois  a  sept  ans,  have  just 
been  published  by  Alcan.  These  works  have  become  classical. 


600  THE  MONIST. 

and  partial,  represent,  after  a  fashion,  the  crossings,  and  answer  to 
the  species.  I  may  add  that  by  relegation  to  a  class  of  armor phous, 
or  unstable,  M.  Ribot  rejects  in  a  lump  a  multitude  of  individuals 
possessed  of  no  true  character  or  personality. 

With  M.  Paulhan  the  case  is  otherwise.  The  different  catego- 
ries of  psychic  types  established  by  him  are  presented  to  us  as  the 
incarnations  of  abstract  laws  of  general  psychology,  and  it  is  here 
that  we  must  seek  "the  examples  of  that  grand  universal  law  that 
brings  to  pass  all  that  develops  from  plurality  to  unity,  from  in- 
coherence to  systematisation,  and  from  chance  to  finality."  If,  then, 
character  signifies,  in  the  end,  the  system  of  association  of  the  ele- 
ments of  personality,  a  classification  of  characters  ought  to  reproduce 
the  modes  of  the  possible  systems,  the  psychic  compounds  which 
are  actually  realised,  and  to  follow  up  the  varieties  of  combination, 
by  proceeding  from  systems  relatively  broad  to  systems  more  re- 
stricted. The  object  of  all  classing  is  ultimately  to  reach  the  indi- 
vidual by  gradually  detaching  it  from  less  and  less  general  groups. 
But  what  principle  is  to  guide  us  in  the  hierarchic  composition  of 
our  groups  of  character? 

M.  Paulhan  indicates  two  classes  of  primary  qualities  capable 
of  forming  by  their  predominance  psychological  types.  And  these 
are  the  classes  of  qualities  comprising  (i)  forms  of  mental  activity, 
and  (2)  the  concrete  elements  which  guide  that  activity.  We  get,  thus, 
first,  (^),  the  types  produced  by  the  predominance  of  a  particular 
form  of  mental  activity,  and  here  M.  Paulhan  considers  the  types 
proceeding  (a)  from  different  forms  of  psychological  association,  (b) 
from  the  different  qualities  of  the  tendencies  and  the  mind  ;  and,  sec- 
ondly, (.#),  the  types  formed  by  the  predominance  or  the  absence  of  a 
tendency,  and  here  the  author  distinguishes  the  types  determined,  (a) 
by  the  vital  tendencies,  (£)  by  the  social  tendencies,  and  (^  by  the 
supra-social  tendencies.  We  obtain,  thus,  two  degrees  of  determi- 
nation. Nothing  remains  to  be  done  except  to  connect  the  indi- 
vidual with  one  of  the  types  of  the  first  class,  and  to  seek  the  modi- 
fications which  he  surfers  in  passing  into  the  second.  Two  ques- 
tions now  arise.  What  are  these  directive  principles  worth,  and 
what  is  the  practical  value  of  this  classification? 


LITERARY  CORRESPONDENCE.  6oi 

The  forms  of  general  activity  in  which  M.  Paulhan  finds  his 
initial  principle,  call  to  mind  the  differential  character  which  M. 
Perez  has  given  in  citing  movements  as  the  indexes  of  character 
and  which  M.  Ribot  sees  in  suffering  and  in  action.  As  to  the  sec- 
ond principle  of  M.  Paulhan,  we  do  not  have  its  equivalent  in  the 
system  of  M.  Perez,  but  in  that  of  M.  Ribot  we  meet  with  one  at 
least  of  the  invoked  tendencies,  I  mean  the  intellect,  and  it  is  the 
combination  of  the  "form"  and  of  the  "tendency"  which  gives  us 
in  the  two  classifications  the  determinations  of  the  second  degree. 

Here,  however,  the  difference  is  clearly  seen.  M.  Ribot  has 
simply  accepted  dominant  and  averred  traits  of  character — sensibil- 
ity, activity,  and  intelligence.  M.  Paulhan  starts  from  a  personal 
theory;  he  is  guided  by  the  idea  of  "abstract  systematisations," 
realised  in  the  individual.  His  point  of  view  is  of  incontestable 
value,  but  it  runs  the  risk  of  losing  altogether  the  real  unity  of  the 
ego  in  seeking  to  seize  its  diversity.  Does  not  his  classification,  by 
its  comminution  of  types,  lose  part  of  its  practical  value?  I  fear  it 
does,  and  I  observe  here  in  fact  numerous  qualifications  put  under 
headings  which  do  not  express  a  mode  of  being  or  acting  at  all  pre- 
cise and  limited. 

But  will  it  not  necessarily  complicate  our  classification  to  define 
unities  so  highly  complex  as  social  individuals?  I  do  not  think  so, 
and,  although  it  may  appear  at  first  sight  contradictory,  I  think  a 
classification  should  offer  outlines  of  greater  extent  and  simplicity 
according  as  its  ultimate  distinctions  are  more  difficult  of  apprecia- 
tion. The  principal  merit  of  M.  Paulhan,  in  my  opinion,  therefore, 
is  that  of  having  marked  out  a  plan  of  study.  Yet  these  very  reser- 
vations throw  upon  me  the  duty  of  a  just  laudation  of  the  high  quali- 
ties of  his  work,  which  is  highly  interesting  and  filled  with  fine  and 
profound  aper^us.  In  reading  the  works  of  an  author  like  M.  Paul- 
hin  one  is  always  fully  recompensed. 


M.  LE  DR.  DURAND  (DE  GROS),  of  whom  1  have  recently  spoken 
in  this  place,  has  just  published  a  new  work,  Le  merveilleux  scienti- 
,  where  he  takes  up  anew  the  question  of  hypnotism.   We  meet 


6O2  THE  M  ONI  ST. 

in  these  pages  with  the  vigor,  sometimes  rude,  of  the  combatant  of 
the  first  hour,  with  a  carefulness  of  method  and  of  generalisation 
which  is  too  much  lacking  in  our  day.  Perhaps  he  will  be  re- 
proached with  having  slightly  sacrificed  experience  to  speculation. 
He  expounds  with  lucidity  in  the  historical  part  of  his  book  the  dif- 
ferent methods  of  hypnotism  and  suggestion  practised  by  Mesmer, 
Braid,  Faria,  and  Grimes.  Leaving  with  those  to  whom  it  is  due 
the  honor  of  the  discoveries,  he  justly  claims  for  himself  the  priority 
of  the  theoretical  views  since  largely  exploited  by  recent  writers. 
What  are  they?  I  shall  endeavor  to  answer  the  question  in  a  few 
words. 

The  theory  of  M.  Durand  implies  two  fundamental  hypotheses. 
The  one  is,  that  the  passes  of  hypnotism,  by  the  inertia  of  thought 
which  they  bring  on,  determine  an  afflux  of  "nervous  force"  to  the 
brain,  in  consequence  of  which  the  subject  is  rendered  fit  to  receive 
the  action  of  suggestion.  Now  the  condition  of  that  afflux  is  be- 
yond doubt  to  be  sought  in  a  different  distribution  of  the  supply  of 
blood,  and  that  condition  at  least  is  not  absolutely  unverifiable.  In 
any  case,  the  phrase  "nervous  force"  does  not,  in  my  judgment, 
necessarily  imply  an  ultra-physical  meaning ;  and,  whether  in 
gravitation,  affinity,  electricity,  or  what  not,  the  notion  of  force  is 
always  reduced  to  a  notion  of  equilibrium  between  material  particles. 
If,  finally,  as  M.  Durand  is  inclined  to  think,  there  exists  some  state 
of  matter  which  we  do  not  know  of,  the  existence,  even  if  verified, 
of  that  new  state,  is  still  insufficient  to  justify  at  the  very  outset  the 
miracles  of  occultism  and  of  telepathy.  But  I  shall  not  enter  into 
this  debate,  and  shall  not  object  in  advance  to  the  possible  discov- 
eries of  to-morrow,  since  we  are  not  at  the  end  of  our  science. 

The  other  hypothesis  consists  in  regarding  the  nervous  centres 
and  ganglia  as  real  souls  or  physiological  individualities  possessing 
sensibility,  memory,  consciousness,  will.  There  has  been  a  general 
disinclination  to  accept  the  "spinal"  and  " ganglionary "  souls  of 
M.  Durand  ;  but  several  authors,  such  as  Mr.  Myers  and  M.  Pierre 
Janet,  speak  to  us  of  a  "subliminal  consciousness"  and  of  a  "sub- 
consciousness,"  which  is  almost  the  same  thing.  And  on  the  other 
hand,  authors  who,  like  M.  Beaunis,  reduce  the  role  of  the  "sub- 


LITERARY  CORRESPONDENCE.  603 

egos "  to  mechanisms  do  not,  according  to  M.  Durand,  extricate 
themselves  from  the  contradiction  which  consists  in  qualifying  as 
unconscious,  acts  which  are  intelligent.  They  escape  here,  he  says, 
by  maintaining  that  automatic,  mechanical  acts  arrive  at  the  con- 
sciousness of  special  centres  which  preside  over  them,  but  never 
reach  the  synthetic  consciousness  of  the  principal  ego.  Further,  it 
will  be  necessary  to  come  to  some  understanding  about  the  relations 
of  these  souls  with  the  higher  ego,  about  their  physiological  charac- 
ter, their  anatomical  positions — no  slight  matters!  But  the  hypothe- 
sis is  not  arbitrary;  it  remains  a  positive  hypothesis,  and  may  be 
justified  from  the  general  point  of  view  of  evolution. 

It  would  take  up  too  much  space  to  show  how  the  author  util- 
ises these  two  principles.  But  I  must  state  that  he  was  one  of  the 
first  to  show  a  distinct  intelligence  of  the  problems  which  the  stu- 
pendous role  of  automatism  creates  in  our  psychic  life,  under  the 
different  names  of  habitude,  technical  memory,  and  revived  impres- 
sion, dreams,  unconscious  cerebration,  etc.  We  have,  in  fine,  in 
his  book  a  psychology  and  a  philosophy.  We  will  read  with  interest 
some  pages  of  his  last  chapter  on  the  evolution  of  the  ideas  of  God 
and  of  the  soul.  He  has  reached  a  monistic  theory  alike  opposed 
to  materialistic  monism  and  spiritualistic  dualism.  He  does  not  as- 
sume that  matter  is  of  a  different  essence  from  spirit  ;  it  is  naught 
but  its  objective  manifestation.  The  prime  mover  of  the  universe 
is  conscious  force. 

M.  Durand  is  a  pronounced  adversary  of  positivism.  Comte 
made  the  grave  mistake,  we  must  admit,  of  confounding  totally  dif- 
ferent intellectual  problems  under  the  one  ill-defined  head  of  meta- 
physics, and  the  literal  application  of  his  method  will  lead  to  the 
restricting  of  science  to  the  work  of  the  ant.  Still,  attenuating  cir- 
cumstances can  be  pleaded  for  him,  as  for  the  school  of  Magendie. 
No  synthesis  is  possible  without  preliminary  analysis,  and  positiv- 
ism has  sought  to  bring  us  back  to  facts  by  a  reaction  against  phil- 
osophical fantasies,  and  to  shut  off  the  easy  flights  of  the  mind 
through  the  fissures  of  mysticism.  It  is  necessary  to  put  men  back 
into  their  proper  times  to  judge  of  them  justly.  The  fault  of  rigid 
disciples  is  that  they  forget  that  the  master  they  restrict  themselves 


604  THE  MONIST. 

to  paraphrasing  would  have  taught  quite  different  lessons  if  he  had 
come  into  the  world  a  half  century  later. 


M.  TH.  FLOURNOY,  of  Geneva,  has  just  supplied  us  with  an  ex- 
cellent contribution — the  result  of  a  joint  inquiry  with  M.  J.  Cla- 
parede — to  the  study  of  the  Phenomenes  de  synopsie  (colored  audition]. 
The  faculty,  now  apparently  common,  of  connecting  visual  images 
(sometimes  hallucinatory)  with  auditory  perceptions,  largely  occu- 
pies at  present  the  attention  of  psychologists.  Galton,  Binet,  and 
some  others,  have  furnished  good  observations.  In  Germany  Pro- 
fessor Gruber  has  applied  himself  to  this  new  study,  to  which  he 
attaches  an  excessive  importance,  and  from  which  he  expects  re- 
sults which  in  my  judgment  will  never  be  forthcoming.  M.  Flournoy 
is  more  reserved  than  Professor  Gruber.  As  the  explanatory  prin- 
ciples of  synaesthesia  he  invokes  in  default  of  better  ones,  affective 
association,  habitual  association,  and  privileged  association.  These 
principles  certainly  suffice  to  explain  a  number  of  facts.  But  I  think 
that  the  majority  of  cases,  at  least,  always  point  to  an  anomaly,  a 
psychic  trouble,  unimpaired  though  the  subject  may  be  in  other  re- 
spects. In  short,  I  recommend  the  book  of  M.  Flournoy  to  the 
curious.  It  is  written  with  spirit,  sagacity,  and  good  judgment. 

* 
*  * 

I  have  still  to  point  out  a  book  of  M.  CH.  F£R£,  La  famille 
nevropathique,  a  teratological  theory  of  morbid  heredity  and  disposi- 
tion ;  the  hereditary  elements,  says  M.  Fere",  are  disorders  of  nutri- 
tion in  the  embryonic  period,  troubles  which  bring  in  their  train 
different  effects  according  to  the  epoch  at  which  they  are  produced. 
Finally,  there  have  appeared  translations  from  the  German  of  Ol- 
denberg's  Buddha,  and  of  Max  Nordau's  beautiful  work  Degenera- 
tion. This  last  work  is  of  great  value,  and  I  should  have  gladly  re- 
produced the  praises  which  I  bestowed  upon  it  in  the  Revue  phi- 
losophique  if  The  Monist  had  not  already  announced  it  to  its  readers 
under  its  German  title  Entartung.  It  is  very  desirable  for  the  good 
of  French  literature  that  foreigners  should  not  add  to  the  success  of 
certain  of  our  writers,  with  whose  merits  the  press  is  surcharged. 


LITERARY  CORRESPONDENCE.  •        605 

The  help  which  the  so-called  experimental  or  psychological  novel 
renders  to  the  true  understanding  of  human  nature  is  very  feeble 
when  we  look  over  the  real  and  serious  contributions  of  works  such 
as  those  I  have  just  mentioned.* 

LUCIEN  ARREAT. 
PARIS. 


THE  PARIS  INTERNATIONAL  BOOK-EXHIBITION. 

Every  summer,  after  the  close  of  the  salon,  an  exhibition  of 
some  sort  is  opened  in  the  Palais  de  1'Industrie  and  continued  till 
winter  sets  in.  These  exhibitions  are  generally  of  rather  a  trivial 
nature.  The  chief  attraction  for  most  of  the  visitors,  especially  dur- 
ing the  summer  months,  is  the  band  which  plays  twice  a  day  in  the 
large  covered  garden  given  up  to  the  sculpture  during  the  salon. 
But  this  year's  exhibition  promises  to  be  a  notable  exception  to  the 
rule,  for  it  is  to  be  devoted  to  a  large  and  complete  display  of  every- 
thing connected  with  books. 

The  approaching  "Exposition  Internationale  du  Livre  et  des 
Industries  du  Papier,"  which  begins  this  July  and  continues  till 
December,  will  be  held  under  the  patronage  of  the  Ministers  of  In- 
dustry, Public  Instruction,  Fine  Arts,  and  Public  Works,  and  under 
the  immediate  direction  of  the  Paris  Publisriers'  Club  (Cercle  de  la 
Librairie).  The  committee  of  patrons  includes  the  names  of  the 
leading  French  publishers,  of  several  members  of  the  Academy,  of 
well-known  journalists  and  men-of-letters,  of  the  directors  of  three 
of  the  great  public  libraries  and  of  members  of  both  Houses  of  Par- 
liament. The  Director-General  is  M.  Georges  Se"ne"chal,  an  ex-officer 
of  the  French  navy,  who  has  had  wide  experience  in  exhibitions. 

The  exhibits  will  be  divided  into  fourteen  groups,  subdivided 
into  thirty-seven  classes,  and  will  embrace  the  whole  circle  of  knowl- 
edge, industry,  and  science  which  enters  into  the  production  of  books 
and  its  kindred  branches,  newspapers,  periodicals,  etc.  Thus, 
Group  I  will  have  to  do  with  everything  out  of  which  paper  can  be 

*A11  published  by  F.  Alcan. 


6o6         •  THE   MONIST. 

made  and,  at  the  same  time,  will  offer  specimens  of  the  cheapest 
and  most  costly  papers, — hand-made,  China,  Japan,  vellum  and 
parchments.  Group  II  is  confined  to  the  materials  used  in  print- 
ing, Group  III  to  the  machinery,  and  Group  IV  to  the  products, 
such  as  playing-cards,  postage-stamps,  exlibris,  and  the  finest  kinds 
of  lithography,  etc.  Photography  forms  Group  V. 

But  the  centre  of  interest  of  the  exhibition  will  be  found  in 
Group  VI  devoted  especially  to  books,  where  will  be  seen  examples 
of  every  sort  of  volume  issued  from  the  French  and  many  foreign 
presses.  A  fine  series  of  maps  will  be  hung  about  the  walls  and  the 
whole  science  of  bookmaking  will  be  displayed  and  exemplified. 
The  fact  that  M.  Gruel,  President  of  the  Bookbinding  Trade,  whose 
contributions  to  the  French  book  section  at  Chicago  will  be  remem- 
bered by  many  of  The  Monisfs  readers,  has  lent  his  name  to  the  en- 
terprise, tells  what  may  be  expected  in  the  department  of  bibliopegy. 
All  fine  art  publications  will  be  brought  together  under  Group  IX, 
while  Group  X — a  retrospective  exhibition — will  contain  many  rare 
curiosities  loaned  by  public  and  private  collections,  such  as  papyri, 
manuscript  Bibles,  autographs,  ancient  exlibris,  etc.,  and  speci- 
mens of  old  processes  employed  in  the  manufacturing  of  books. 

Group  XI  will  embrace  the  exhibits  of  societies,  benevolent  or- 
ganisations and  co-operative  printing  offices  which  are  in  any  way 
connected  with  the  book  business.  Everything  pertaining  to  book- 
cases and  libraries,  even  to  their  heating  and  lighting,  will  be  grouped 
by  itself — Group  XII — while  Groups  XIII  and  XIV  will  be  of  a 
miscellaneous  nature  and  will  include  writing-machines,  pens,  pen- 
cils, new  inventions,  etc. 

There  will  be  a  double  jury — the  "section  jury"  and  the  "su- 
perior jury."  Half  of  the  members  of  the  section  jury  will  be  chosen 
by  the  exhibitors  themselves  and  half  by  the  Commissioner-General. 
The  superior  jury  will  be  made  up  of  the  officers  of  the  section  ju- 
ries. These  juries  will  award  diplomas  of  honor  and  medals  of  gold, 
vermilion,  silver,  and  bronze,  honorable  mentions  and  "diplomas 
of  collaboration,"  the  last  to  be  given  to  the  best  workmen  of  the 
houses  which  exhibit. 

The  special  commissioner  for  the  American   and  English  sec- 


LITERARY  CORRESPONDENCE.  607 

tions  is  M.  Gaston  Rebours,  the  representative  in  France  of  Scrib- 
ner's  Magazine.  He  has  formed  an  American  and  an  English  com- 
mittee in  Paris.  At  the  head  of  the  latter  stands  the  British  Am- 
bassador, while  the  United  States  Ambassador  has  accepted  the 
presidency  of  the  American  committee,  one  of  whose  members  is 
Mr.  Henry  Vignaud,  First  Secretary  of  the  United  States  Embassy, 
and  an  ardent  bibliophile  as  well  as  a  laborious  diplomat. 

THEODORE  STANTON. 
PARIS. 

JAPAN  AND  CHINA. 

The  Japanese  monthly  Richgozasshi,  of  January,  1893,  contains 
an  article  by  Professor  Inowye  in  which  he  compares  Sosi's  philoso- 
phy with  Christianity,  Spencerianism,  Confucianism,  and  German 
pessimism.  As  Professor  Inowye's  article  is  inaccessible  to  those 
not  familiar  with  the  Japanese  language,  we  here  present  a  re'sume' 
of  Sosi's  philosophy,  which  is  too  little  known  among  Western 
scholars.* 

Sosi  was  born  in  the  country  of  So,  China,  400  years  B.C.  He 
was  known  as  an  eloquent  orator,  energetic  writer,  and  learned  phi- 
losopher. He  left  his  noble  work  entitled  with  his  own  name,  and 
it  is  read  by  all  scholars  in  the  literary  line  and  admired  by  modern 
philosophers.  By  virtue  of  his  doctrine,  which  partly  coincides  with 
Buddha's  "Nirvana"  and  partly  with  Schopenhauer's  pessimism, 
he  duly  belongs  to  the  modern  idealistic  school. 

Sosi  was  no  less  a  great  thinker  than  Plato  or  Socrates,  who 
lived  in  the  same  age.  If  his  doctrine  could  be  carefully  tested  by 

*We  present  here  a  table  of  the  names  referred  to  in  this  article,  in  Japanese 
and  Chinese,  as  the  spoken  sounds  of  the  same  literal  characters  differ  in  the  two 
languages. 

JAPANESE  CHINESE  JAPANESE  CHINESE 

Sosi Chwang-Tsz  Sika Tsz'-Kwa 

S6 Sung  Shusi Chti-Tsz' 

So Su  Chosokdsi Chang-Sang-Kung-Tsz' 

I,  (Eh) W£i  Kan-insi Kwan  Yin  Tsz' 

Bokusui P'oh-Shwui  Rosi Lao-Tsz' or  Lau-Tsze 

Gi Wei  Tokakusi Tau-Kwo-Tsz' 

Kautaishi  or  Kantaishi .  Kwan-T'ui-T  sz'  Keisi K'ing-Tsz' 

Densiho. . . ." T  ien-Tsz'  Fang  Ressi ; .  Lieh-Tsz' 


608  THE  MONIST. 

the  Western  philosophers,  assuredly  it  would  command  their  admira- 
tion and  very  likely  give  some  light  to  philosophical  controversies : 
it  is  for  this  purpose  that  I  bring  this  doctrine  before  you. 

Sosi.was  born  of  a  very  poor  family  and  lived  under  a  constant 
pressure  of  poverty,  by  which,  however,  he  was  never  depressed. 
Numerous  opportunities  for  high  positions  were  uncared  for ;  he 
had  no  regard  for  money.  We  are  told  that  King  I,  of  So,  sent  a 
magnificent  present  to  Sosi  and  offered  him  the  office  of  prime  min- 
ister. Sosi  answered  the  king's  messenger  thus  :  "The  thousand 
pieces  of  gold  is  a  good  income  ;  the  position  of  prime  minister  is 
high  and  honorable  ;  but  dost  thou  not  know  the  fate  of  the  pig 
that  is  fattened  for  the  feast?  It  is  carefully  fed,  daintily  dressed, 
and  finally  guided  into  the  temple  where  it  is  to  be  sacrificed.  At 
this  time  it  might  desire  to  be  a  common  pig,  but  how  can  it  escape? 
Go  thou  away  promptly;  I  would  rather  stay  in  a  lowly  home  and 
enjoy  its  poverty,  than  to  be  held  in  bondage  by  the  king." 

The  king  was  still  anxious  to  secure  him  and  sent  two  high 
officers,  and  repeated  his  demand  by  saying  :  ''Please  come  and 
take  the  government  in  your  hands."  Sosi,  who  was  fishing  in  the 
river  Bokusui,  answered  without  giving  them  any  sign  of  respect : 
"I  have  heard  there  was  a  strange  turtle  which  lived  three  thousand 
years  ago  in  thy  country,  the  skeleton  of  which  the  king  carefully 
wraps  up  and  keeps  in  his  palace.  Would  this  turtle  rather  die  to 
be  thus  glorified  by  the  king,  or  would  it  live  to  crawl  in  a  muddy 
pond?"  Then  the  two  officers  said:  "  We  should  think  that  the 
turtle  would  rather  like  to  live  in  the  muddy  pond."  Sosi  replied  : 
"  Go  thou  away;  I  also  would  rather  live  in  the  muddy  pond." 

Sosi,  wearing  old  shoes  and  soiled  clothing,  met  with  the  king 
of  Gi,  who,  having  sympathy  for  the  philosopher  in  his  poverty, 
said  to  him  :  "How  depressed  thou  art !  "  Sosi  answered :  "I  am 
poor,  but  not  depressed.  If  one  has  moral  principles,  yet  cannot 
practise  them,  then  he  would  be  depressed  ;  those  who  have  tat- 
tered clothes  and  old  shoes  may  be  poor,  but  not  depressed." 

From  the  foregoing  stories  we  learn  for  what  he  cared  and  for 
what  he  did  not.  His  indifference  to  fortune  is  due  to  his  doctrine. 

How    was    he    educated?    and    whose    doctrine    did    he    fol- 


LITERARY  CORRESPONDENCE.  609 

low?  are  important  questions  ;  there  are  two  traditions  about  his 
early  education.  According  to  Kantaisi,  Sosi  was  taught  by  Den- 
siho,  whose  name  is  given  in  Sosi's  book.  Densiho  was  taught  by 
Sika,  who  was  one  of  the  principal  disciples  of  Confucius,  and  in 
this  respect  Sosi  may  be  called  a  follower  of  Confucius.  But  Shusi 
said  Sosi  was  taught  by  Chosokosi,  who  was  a  pupil  of  Kan-insi, 
who  was  a  disciple  of  Rosi ;  *  therefore  Sosi  must  be  a  follower  of 
Rosi,  the  great  rival  philosopher  of  Confucius.  By  examining  Sosi's 
doctrine  we  may  judge  that  he  belonged  to  Rosi's  school  rather  than 
to  Confucius's,  yet  it  seems  that  he  first  studied  the  latter,  then  the 
former,  and  finally  built  up  his  own  system,  which  in  its  ethical  ap- 
plication coincides  with  that  of  Rosi. 

Sosi's  principle  is  based  upon  Rosi's,  but  he  discusses  the  sub- 
ject more  freely  than  his  predecessor.  However,  his  discussion  is 
rather  conversational  than  argumentative  ;  consequently,  his  noble 
phrases  are  disjointly  placed,  and  the  treatise,  as  a  whole,  sinks  into 
confusion. 

Sosi  recognises  two  kinds  of  existence  :  the  one  is  distinguish- 
able, and  the  other  undistinguishable ;  the  one  is  relative  and  finite, 
and  the  other  is  absolute  and  infinite  ;  the  one  is  the  world  of  de- 
pendence and  mutual  maintenance,  the  other  is  independent  and 
self-existing ;  finally,  the  one  is  a  false,  temporal,  and  changing 
world,  the  other  is  a  true,  eternal,  and  fixed  world. 

All  these  notions  are  derived  from  the  first  couple  of  antitheses 
— distinguishable  and  undistinguishable.  The  same  conclusion  may 
be  arrived  at  from  a  psychological  point  of  view.  Let  me  briefly 
discuss  it. 

When  the  state  of  things  is  distinguishable  its  various  aspects 
reflect  upon  the  mind  and  arouse  the  waves  of  thought,  producing 
emotion,  passion,  and  temptation.  But  where  there  is  no  distinc- 
tion in  the  state  of  things,  and  all  are  equal  like  the  perfect  equilib- 
rium of  scales,  there  are  no  vibrations  arising  in  our  consciousness. 
The  one  is  a  state  of  perfect  equilibrium,  therefore  its  condition  is 


*  Rosi  is  the  Japanese  spoken  sound  of  Lao-tsze.     See  table  on  page  607,  foot- 
note. 


6lO  THE   MON1ST. 

fixed  and  peaceful ;  the  other  is  out  of  balance,  therefore  its  condi- 
tion is  changeable  and  struggling.  Hence  Sosi  thought  this  real 
world  not  a  very  happy  world.  He  said  the  distinguishable  world 
is  a  temporary  world  of  short  lodging,  and  the  undistinguishable 
world  is  the  one  which  we  should  seek  to  attain. 

Sosi  derived  this  idea  of  two  sorts  of  worlds  from  Rosi,  who 
said  in  the  first  chapter  of  his  book  :  "Non-name  is  the  beginning 
of  the  world,  and  name  is  mother  of  the  universe." 

Here,  by  "non-name,"  Rosi  means  the  undistinguishable  world, 
and  by  "name"  the  distinguishable.  Sosi  divides  Rosi's  non  name 
into  two,  in  order  to  make  a  clear  separation  of  the  distinguishable 
from  the  undistinguishable,  and  said  in  the  chapter  of  "Heaven  and 
Earth  ":  "There  was  in  the  beginning  of  the  world  nothing-nothing, 
then  non-name,  and  then  name."  Here  by  "nothing-nothing"  he 
does  not  mean  the  world  was  originated  out  of  nothing,  but  that 
there  was  such  a  thing  that  could  never  have  properly  been  termed 
anything  else  than  "nothing-nothing,"  which,  in  his  view,  is  still 
existing  and  forming  the  true  world.*  Here  a  question  will  natur- 
ally arise.  If  this  real  world  of  transiency  was  made  from  "  nothing- 
nothing,"  why  does  it  differ  from  the  true  world  of  "nothing-noth- 
ing"? This  maybe  answered  by  saying,  "nothing- nothing"  is  cre- 
ative while  the  real  world  is  created  ;  being  modified,  it  retains  no 
longer  the  first  quality.  "Nothing-nothing "  may  contain  Rosi's 
"non-name"  and  Ressi's  "invisible,"  and  it  well  coincides  with 
Spencer's  "Unknowable." 

According  to  Spencer,  "the  Unknowable"  is  beyond  reach   of 


*The  ideas  "  nothing"  and  "emptiness,"  as  is  well  known,  play  an  important 
part  in  L£o-tsze's  philosophy.  The  Chinese  conception  of  nothing,  however,  is 
different  from  that  which  is  common  among  the  Western  nations.  Nothing,  in 
Chinese  philosophy,  is  the  absence  of  distinguishing  features  and  the  presence  of 
all  that  which  permeates  with  equal  reality  all  existence.  It  is  comparable  to  He- 
gel's Absolute,  who  also  puzzled  the  world  with  his  famous  dictum  that  absolute 
nothing  and  absolute  being  are  identical.  Now  Sosi's  term  "nothing-nothing" 
must  not  be  construed  to  mean  a  negation  of  nothing,  so  as  to  denote  something 
that  is  "not  nothing,"  but,  according  to  the  Chinese  idiom,  it  conveys  the  idea  of 
a  higher  kind  of  nothing  ;  it  is,  as  it  were,  and  to  use  the  mathematician's  slang, 
O2,  viz.,  nothing  to  the  second  power,  and  we  might  translate  it  by  "absolute 
nothing." — ED. 


LITERARY  CORRESPONDENCE.  6ll 

human  knowledge,  yet  underlies  everything.  So  it  is  with  "nothing- 
nothing."  It  is  beyond  human  reach  yet  we  are  originated  out  of  it ; 
and  we  cannot  be  independent  of  it  but  it  includes  us  all ;  as  it  is 
infinite  and  we  finite,  we  are  simply  its  parts.  This  idea  becomes 
clear  when  he  claims  his  truth  of  "nothing-nothing"  to  be  omni- 
present. Tokakusi  asked  Sosi,  "Where  is  the  Truth?  "  Sosi  said, 
"  The  Truth  is  in  ants."  Tokakusi,  being  surprised  with  the  an- 
swer, repeated  his  question.  Sosi  said,  "It  is  in  wheat,  in  brick 
and  in  wall."  Thus  he  evidently  claims  the  truth  of  "nothing- 
nothing"  to  be  in  either  organic  or  inorganic  matter,  and  in  every 
space  and  time.  The  universe,  whether  known  or  not,  has  a  know- 
able  character.  We  are  like  a  frog  in  the  bottom  of  a  well,  ignorant 
about  the  universe.  But  when  we  come  up  to  the  top  we  shall  know 
more.  Hence  Sosi  divided  his  distinguishable  world  or  knowable 
universe  into  two,  by  calling  them  "name"  and  "non-name"  ac- 
cording to  whether  they  are  conceived  by  human  thought  or  not. 
Unknowable  or  undistinguishable  is  not  that  which  is  not  known, 
but  that  which  cannot  be  known.  We  may  be  with  it  when  we 
reach  that  highest  stage.  To  be  with  it  is  not  to  know  it  :  to  know 
it  is  to  describe  it  relatively.  But  how  can  we  speak  relatively  when 
there  is  nothing  to  compare? 

Thus  Sosi's  classification  was  a  great  success  ;  it  made  the  dis- 
tinction between  knowable  and  unknowable  very  clear — the  task  in 
which  Spencer  failed  utterly. 

Sosi  applied  this  same  classification  to  humanity  and  said,  "I 
have  reached  as  high  as  "  nothing  "  but  not  "nothing-nothing  "  yet. 
Thus  the  essence  of  Sosi's  doctrine  is  "nothing-nothing"  and  he 
regards  it  as  the  highest  stage  which  we  must  strive  to  attain. 

"  How  can  we  attain  this  stage?  "  is  the  most  important  ques- 
tion on  which  his  doctrine  is  based.  Sosi  answers  this  question  with 
four  words,  Kio  mu  ten  tan,  which  may  be  translated  :  "Sweep  off 
all  the  impurity  from  thy  heart,  and  store  only  the  truth,  which  is 
' nothing-nothing.'  Therefore,  in  short,  keep  thy  heart  empty." 
To  do  this  is  to  cast  aside  all  worldly  desire  and  to  animate  our- 
selves with  the  divine  spirit.  Is  this  not  near  the  Christian  teach- 
ing? Yet  a  spy  of  the  enemy  lies  in  the  pleasing  spot.  Spirit  is 


6l2  THE  MONIST. 

immortal,  yet  life  is  mortal.  Spiritual  life  must  be  distinguished 
from  physical  life.  The  first  is  not  a  continuation  of  the  second. 
Spirit  simply  rests  in  a  living  body  and  it  does  not  give  life  to  dead 
matter.  This  distinction  is  not  clear  in  Christianity,  yet  it  is  very 
clear  in  Sosi's  doctrine.  He  said,  ''Life  is  combination  or  arrange- 
ment of  elements  ;  when  the  elements  assemble,  there  is  life  ;  and 
when  they  scatter,  there  is  death.  Consequently  the  life  is  that 
which  we  borrow  and  is  therefore  the  dust."  In  the  chapter  of  "Ab- 
solute Happiness  "  of  his  book,  he  gives  us  an  interesting  story,  re- 
lating to  his  own  conduct,  which  may  astonish  my  reader.  Sosi  lost 
his  wife.  His  friend  Keisi  came  to  mourn  her  death,  but  seeing 
Sosi  lying  down  and  singing,  he  was  quite  surprised  and  blamed 
him  :  "Thy  wife  was  a  faithful  companion  ;  she  nourished  thy  chil- 
dren, became  aged  and  now  is  dead  ;  but  thou  art  not  only  indif- 
ferent to  her  death  but  lie  here  and  sing.  What  is  the  matter?  Is 
this  conduct  not  abominable?"  Sosi  answered,  "No,  since  I  lost 
my  wife  why  should  I  give  utterance  to  my  sorrow  ?  Think  of  her 
origin ;  she  had  no  life,  no  shape,  no  spirit,  before  she  was  born. 
Some  things  which  were  floating  in  infinite  space  were  assembled, 
modified  and  formed  elements  :  the  elements  modified  and  formed 
shape,  and  the  shape  modified  and  formed  the  living  being  of  hu- 
manity. Now  her  body  has  taken  a  reverse  order,  modified  itself 
and  sunk  into  death.  This  is  quite  analogous  with  the  passing  of 
spring  and  autumn,  winter  and  summer.  O  !  my  wife  has  gone  into 
this  'Great  Room,'  the  universe.  If  I  cry  and  regret,  I  show  my 
ignorance  of  'Decree';  therefore,  I  do  not  cry."  If  he  had  been 
Schopenhauer  he  would  very  likely  have  requested  congratulations 
upon  her  death,  for,  according  to  his  pessimism,  the  birth  of  any 
one  is  to  be  regretted,  because  he  must  fall  under  the  burden  of  bit- 
terness of  this  melancholy  world.  Sosi  did  not  go  to  such  an  ex- 
treme as  Schopenhauer,  but  his  dislike  of  the  world  was  clear  when 
he  said  :  "  The  life-time  in  the  world  is  not  better  than  the  time  be- 
fore his  birth."  Then  he  continues,  "death  is  better  than  birth." 

This  idea  may  be  illustrated  by  an  interesting  story  told  of  him. 

"Sosi  went  to  So  and  saw  a  skull  lying  on  the  ground.  He 
struck  it  and  said  :  "Hast  thou  been  covetous  of  life,  but  finally  art 


LITERARY  CORRESPONDENCE.  613 

overcome  by  death?  Hast  thou  been  killed  when  thy  country  wast 
destroyed?  Having  committed  some  crime,  hast  thou  killed  thy- 
self, fearing  punishment  and  disgrace  to  thy  family  ?  Hast  thou 
died  from  hunger  or  cold  ?  Hast  thou  been  wearied  by  thy  great 
age  ?  "  Speaking  thus,  Sosi  went  to  sleep,  taking  the  skull  as  a 
pillow.  At  midnight  Sosi  dreamed  of  the  skull  who  said  to  him  : 
"All  that  thou  hast  suggested  are  distresses  of  mankind,  but  when 
one  dies  one  has  no  trouble  at  all.  Wouldst  thou  like  to  know  what 
death  is?"  Sosi  answered  "Yes."  The  skull  said  :  "  If  a  man  is 
dead  he  has  no  king,  no  subject,  no  change  of  climate,  but  freely 
floats  in  heaven  ;  no  king  can  enjoy  such  profound  happiness."  Sosi 
not  without  distrust  asked  the  skull :  "Wouldst  thou  like  to  be  cov- 
ered up  with  flesh  and  skin  and  sent  back  to  thy  home  ?  "  The  skull 
clouded  his  brow,  and  said:  "Why  should  I  desire  to  leave  this 
happiness  and  return  to  the  world  and  resume  human  distress?" 

Such  being  Sosi's  doctrine,  its  essential  point  is  to  leave  or 
forget  this  toilsome  world  and  embody  ourselves  with  "nothing- 
nothing."  But  such  an  effort  and  passive  nature  can  never  be  ex- 
pected of  man.  For  this  reason  Sosi's  doctrine  could  neither  pro- 
gress nor  be  practised.  And  this  is  the  main  difference  between 
Sosi's  doctrine  and  Confucianism. 

KEIJIRO  NAKAMURA. 
JAPAN. 


BOOK  REVIEWS. 

LOGIK.  By  Dr.  Christoph  Sigtvart.  Zweiter  Band.  Die  Methodenlehre.  Zweite 
durchgesehene  und  erweiterte  Auflage.  Freiburg  i.  B.  and  Leipsic  :  J.  C. 
B.  Mohr.  1893.  Pp.  761.  Price,  10  marks. 

LOGIK.  EINE  UNTERSUCHUNG  DER  PRINCIPIEN  DER  ERKENNTNISS  UND  DER  ME- 
THODEN  WISSENSCHAFTLICHER  FoRSCHUNG.  By  Wilhelni  Wundt.  Erster 
Band.  Erkenntnisslehre.  Zweite  umgearbeitete  Auflage.  Stuttgart  :  Fer- 
dinand Enke.  1893.  Pp.  651.  Price,  14  marks. 

"  If  one  were  to  inspect, "  says  Professor  Adamson,  "  a  fair  proportion  of  the 
"more  extensive  recent  works  on  logic,  the  conclusion  drawn  would  be  probably 
'  the  same, — that,  while  the  matters  treated  show  a  slight  similarity,  no  more  than 
"would  naturally  result  from  the  fact  that  thought  is  the  subject  analysed,  the  di- 
"  versity  in  mode  of  treatment  is  so  great  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  select  by 
' '  comparison  and  criticism  a  certain  body  of  theorems  and  methods,  and  assign  to 
"  them  the  title  of  logic.  ...  In  tone,  in  method,  in  aim,  in  fundamental  principles, 
"  in  extent  of  field,  they  diverge  so  widely  as  to  appear,  not  so  many  different  exposi- 
"  tions  of  the  same  science,  but  so  many  different  sciences.  In  short,  looking  to  the 
"  chaotic  state  of  logical  text-books  at  the  present  time,  one  would  be  inclined  to  say 
"  that  there  does  not  exist  anywhere  a  recognised,  currently  received  body  of  specu- 
"  lations  to  which  the  title  logic  can  be  unambiguously  assigned,  and  that  we  must 
' '  therefore  resign  the  hope  of  attaining  by  any  empirical  consideration  of  the  re- 
"  ceived  doctrine  a  precise  determination  of  the  nature  and  limits  of  logical  theory." 
In  its  modern  form  as  theory  of  knowledge  and  methodology,  logic  embraces 
parts  of  nearly  every  philosophical  discipline.  In  each  investigator's  hands  it  has 
assumed  a  form  which  accords  with  the  author's  predilections,  being  predominantly 
metaphysical,  epistemological,  psychological,  mathematical,  or  linguistic,  according 
as  the  processes  of  thought,  in  the  aspects  in  which  they  are  treated,  are  deemed  to 
be  better  typified  or  illustrated  by  the  one  or  the  other  of  these  points  of  view. 
While  some  treatises  have  laid  special  stress  upon  only  one  of  these  sides  of  mental 
activity,  others,  in  the  aspiration  to  be  a  complete  compendium  of  the  science,  have 
sought  to  do  justice  to  all,  so  that  most  of  the  works  of  this  latter  class  have  become 


BOOK   REVIEWS.  615 

rather  epitomes  of  the  results  of  the  investigations  of  the  special  sciences  than  a 
study  of  the  laws  of  thought  and  inquiry.  Especially  have  these  treatises  neglected 
the  discussion  of  the  philosophical  foundation  of  the  laws  of  thought  and  inquiry, 
having  restricted  themselves  almost  exclusively  to  the  exposition  of  the  methods  of 
science,  as  justified  by  results  ;  although  such  a  discussion  is  absolutely  indispensa- 
ble to  the  determination  of  the  scope  and  character  of  logic. 

Two  noteworthy  exceptions  to  this  error  are  the  works  of  Sigwart  and  Wundt, 
although  each  has  accomplished  its  task  in  a  different  measure  and  in  a  different 
manner,  showing  differences  of  point  of  view  and  of  scientific  training.  Sigwart's 
treatment  of  the  fundamental  philosophical  question  is  predominantly  formal  and 
metaphysical  ;  Wundt's  predominantly  psychological.  This  difference  is  also  no- 
ticeable in  the  second  volumes  of  their  works,  which  treat  of  methodology,  where 
the  investigations  of  Wundt  are  richly  embellished  by  illustrations  from  all  the  posi- 
tive sciences,  while  Sigwart  is  very  meagre  in  historical  illustrations.  Both  agree 
in  their  independence  of  tradition. 

Professor  Sigwart,  to  take  his  book  first,  was  one  of  the  first  laborers  in  the 
field  of  modern  logic,  and  of  all  the  larger  treatises  on  the  subject  his  is  perhaps  the 
most  economically  and  concisely  worked  out.  We  do  not  meet  in  his  work  with 
resumes  of  the  special  sciences  nor  with  profuse  criticisms  of  opposed  opinions,  but 
have  simply  an  exposition  of  methods  in  a  clear  and  general  form  permeated  by 
unity  of  treatment  and  distinguished  by  perspicuity.  Still  the  work  is  large  enough. 
It  consists  of  two  indexed  volumes,  containing  respectively  four  hundred  and  eighty- 
five  and  seven  hundred  and  seventy-eight  pages,  published  in  1873  and  1878.  The 
first  volume  of  the  present  edition,  reviewed  in  The  Open  Court  of  1889,  No.  107, 
appeared  in  1888  ;  the  second  in  1893.  It  was  thus,  we  see,  one  of  the  first  of  that 
great  series  of  works  beginning  with  Trendelenburg,  Ueberweg,  and  Mill  whose 
object  was  to  new-model  logic,  and  to  bring  it  into  living  relation  with  the  scientific 
wants  of  the  time.  We  shall  review  here  Professor  Sigwart's  conception  of  the 
scope  and  purpose  of  logic  and  then  present  a  resume  of  his  idea  of  methodology. 

One  of  the  chief  and  most  imperative  prerequisites  of  successful  conduct  in  life 
is  the  possession  of  principles  that  are  certain  and  universal.  Hence  the  need  of 
reflexion  upon  the  conditions  under  which  this  object  can  be  attained,  and  conse- 
quently of  determining  the  rules  by  following  which  it  can  be  attained.  This  is  the 
problem  of  logic  ;  if  it  were  solved  we  should  have  a  true  art  of  thought. 

The  nature  of  thought  is  primarily  a  subject  of  psychology.  But  the  founda- 
tions, here,  are  mooted  questions.  Language  affords  us  the  best  foothold.  In  this, 
thought  is  essentially  presentative  activity  :  either  involuntary,  such  as  that  which 
makes  up  the  ordinary  routine  of  life,  or  voluntary,  willed,  presentative  activity, 
the  purpose  of  which  is  the  pursuit  and  satisfaction  of  the  needs  of  life,  in  the  widest 
sense  of  that  expression.  Here  we  are.  We  find  ourselves  surrounded  by  facts, 
circumstances,  laws,  with  definite  purposes  to  be  realised.  How  are  we  to  determine 
whether  the  thought  which  guides  our  conduct  will,  when  executed,  accomplish  our 


6l6  THE  MONIST. 

purposes  ?  Solely  by  our  awareness  of  the  necessity  of  our  thought,  or  in  other 
words  by  its  logical  structure. 

Necessity  of  thought  here,  is  not  to  be  interpreted  as  psychological  necessity, 
but  is  to  be  conceived  as  a  necessity  which  is  rooted  in  the  contents  and  object  of 
thought  itself,  in  the  nature  of  the  objects  that  are  thought  :  this  is  what  we  mean 
when  we  speak  of  the  objectivity  of  thought. 

Again,  in  the  connexion  of  logic  with  ontology,  it  is  exactly  the  same  attributes 
which  express  the  object  of  thought  when  this  serves  the  purpose  of  reaching  a 
knowledge  of  existence.  Here,  too,  the  aim  at  which  purposive  thought  strives  must 
be  stated  as  a  consciousness  of  its  necessity  and  universality.  Ordinarily  we  assume 
the  existence  of  an  independent  objective  world  by  a  kind  of  psychological  con- 
straint, the  knowledge  of  which  is  the  object  of  thought.  But  this  conclusion  is  al- 
ways found  on  analysis  to  be  an  act  of  inference  resting  in  the  necessity  of  our 
thought ;  outside  of  thought  there  is  no  means  of  knowing  whether  we  have  reached 
this  object ;  agreement  of  thought  with  fact  is  therefore  necessity  of  thought ;  and 
necessity  of  thought  in  all  minds,  with  respect  to  the  same  object,  is  universal 
thought.  If  the  possibility  of  a  knowledge  of  the  world  as  it  is  in  itself  be  denied, 
if  being  is  only  one  of  the  thoughts  that  we  produce,  the  fact  yet  remains  undisputed 
that  we  attribute  objectivity  to  the  ideas  which  we  produce  with  the  consciousness 
of  necessity,  and  that  as  soon  as  we  posit  a  thing  as  existing  we  declare  by  implica- 
tion that  all  other  thinking  beings  of  the  same  nature  must  produce  it  with  the  same 
necessity.  This  means  that  if  we  produce  only  necessary  and  universal  thought, 
the  knowledge  of  existence  is  implied  in  that  thought.  This  conception  exhausts  the 
nature  of  "  truth."  Whether  we  speak  of  mathematical,  objective,  or  moral  truths, 
the  common  character  of  that  which  we  denominate  is,  that  it  is  a  necessary  and 
universal  product  of  thought.  We  thus  avoid  the  difficulties  involved  in  the  assump- 
tion of  any  special  theory  of  knowledge  as  a  foundation  of  logic. 

Now,  all  thought  which  seeks  to  become  conscious  of  its  necessity  and  univer- 
sality is  accomplished  in  judgments  expressed  as  statements  or  sentences  ;  judg- 
ments are  the  goal  of  all  practical  reflexion,  of  all  knowledge,  the  final  form  of  all 
conviction  ;  all  else  are  conditions  and  preliminaries  of  judgment.  But  error  and 
contention  show  that  our  practical  thought  often  fails  of  its  purpose,  the  judgments 
in  which  it  is  stated  being  in  part  rejected  by  ourselves  and  in  part  by  others. 
Hence  the  necessity  of  a  discipline  which  will  teach  us  how  to  avoid  error  and  con- 
troversy, and  to  execute  our  operations  of  thought  so  that  the  judgments  which  pro- 
ceed therefrom  shall  be  true,  that  is,  necessary  and  certain,  and  that  is,  again, 
accompanied  by  a  consciousness  of  their  necessity,  and,  therefore,  universal.  Here, 
the  logical  and  psychological  consideration  of  thought  are  distinguished.  Psychol- 
ogy seeks  to  exhibit  to  us  the  natural  history  of  thought ;  the  opposition  of  true  and 
false  has  no  place  in  it.  But  logic  presupposes  the  purposive  thinking  of  truth. 
In  this  aim  it  sets  up  the  criteria  of  the  thinking  of  truth,  and  on  the  other  hand 
supplies  instructions  for  so  conducting  thought  that  the  truth  shall  be  reached. 


BOOK  REVIEWS.  617 

Logic  is  thus  in  one  aspect  a  critical  discipline  of  completed  thought,  and  in  the 
other  aspect  an  art  of  thought.  But  again,  as  all  criticism  is  of  value  only  in  so  far 
as  it  is  a  means  to  attain  an  end,  the  highest  and  most  important  task  of  logic,  and 
that  which  constitutes  its  real  nature  is  its  office  as  an  art. 

With  respect  to  the  scope  of  logic  it  is  to  be  stated  that  this  science  assures  us 
only  of  the  formal  correctness  of  the  processes  of  thought  and  not  of  their  material 
truth.  With  respect  to  the  postulate  of  logic,  the  possibility  of  setting  up  criteria  and 
rules  of  necessary  and  universal  mental  progress,  rests  upon  the  ability  of  distin- 
guishing objectively  necessary  thought  from  non-necessary  thought,  and  this  ability 
is  manifested  in  the  immediate  consciousness  of  the  evidence  which  accompanies 
necessary  thought  ;  the  experience  of  this  consciousness  and  the  belief  in  its  trust- 
worthiness is  a  postulate  behind  which  we  cannot  go.  The  criterion  which  distin- 
guishes necessary  and  universal  judgment  from  false  individual  judgment  is  in  the 
end  our  subjective  feeling  of  necessity,  our  consciousness  that  with  the  given  as- 
sumptions we  cannot  think  differently  from  what  we  do. 

These  considerations  determine  Professor  Sigwart's  method  of  treatment. 
First,  the  nature  of  the  function  must  be  investigated  for  which  the  rules  are  to  be 
sought  ;  secondly,  the  conditions  and  laws  of  its- normal  operation  must  be  deter- 
mined ;  and  finally,  the  rules  of  procedure  are  to  be  discovered  by  means  of  which 
from  the  incomplete  condition  of  natural  thought  on  the  basis  of  given  assumptions 
and  means  the  perfect  condition  can  be  reached.  The  investigation  is,  therefore, 
divided  into  an  analytical  part,  a  normative  part,  and  a  technical  part.  The  first 
two  parts  make  up  Volume  One.  Volume  Two,  of  considerably  greater  extent,  con- 
stitutes the  technical  part,  being  methodology. 

The  office  of  methodology  is  to  supply  the  directions  according  to  which  from  a 
given  state  of  mind  and  knowledge  by  the  use  of  the  mental  powers  at  our  control, 
the  object  can  be  fully  reached  which  human  thought  has  set  itself,  and  when  we  say 
fully  we  mean,  by  fully  determined  concepts  and  fully  established  judgments.  Ab- 
solute certitude  of  notions  and  conscious  verification  of  judgments  are  the  two  essen- 
tial features  of  the  ideal  condition  at  which  our  thought  aims.  The  question,  how 
this  ideal  state  can  be  reached  with  the  means  at  our  command  is  the  object  of  the 
doctrine  of  methods. 

In  the  second,  the  normative  part  of  the  work,  the  necessity  was  emphasised  of 
searching  for  the  simple  elements  of  concepts  and  of  determining  the  forms  of  their 
synthesis,  so  that  we  could  have  the  conviction  that  the  simplest  elements  of  con- 
cepts were  thought  by  all  in  the  same  manner,  and  that  they  were  competent  to 
determine  fully  every  object  of  thought  by  unequivocal  mental  attributes.  In  the 
second  place,  in  laying  the  foundations  of  judgments,  it  was  found  necessary  to 
have  full  consciousness  of  those  judgments  which  carry  their  justification  in  them- 
selves; which  necessitated  the  search  for  axioms.  Hence  result  the  following  two 
inquiries,  as  determinative  of  the  form  of  methodology,  namely:  (if  the  procedure 
by  which  it  is  possible  so  to  fix  the  collective  simple  elements  of  all  the  contents  of 


618  THE   MONIST. 

the  mind  that  we  can  be  sure  of  their  agreement  in  all  thinking  persons,  and  can 
determine  the  forms  of  their  synthesis  so  that  they  can  be  combined  in  a  concord- 
ant manner  into  composite  concepts  by  all  rational  beings;  (2)  the  procedure  by 
which  it  is  possible  to  acquire  a  clear  consciousness  of  the  ultimate  assumptions  of 
all  judgment,  upon  which  all  justification  of  judgments  not  immediately  evident  de- 
pends, and  by  which  we  can  establish  the  justification  of  every  single  judgment  in 
a  universally  cogent  manner. 

More  especially,  the  form  of  methodology  is  dependent  on  the  nature  of  the 
conditions  of  fact  in  which  the  thought  stands  that  it  proposes  to  regulate,  and  on 
the  other  hand  on  the  contents  of  the  purpose  which  our  purposive  thought  sets 
itself.  This  purpose  is  in  part  the  knowledge  of  the  world,  as  accessible  to  percep- 
tion, and  in  part  the  establishment  of  the  ultimate  aims  of  practical  volition.  The 
ideal  knowledge  of  the  world  involves  a  complete  picture  of  the  world  in  space  and 
time,  a  classification  of  the  facts  of  reality,  an  insight  into  the  necessity  of  the  facts 
of  reality  in  the  form  of  absolute  causal  connexion.  Reflexion  on  the  aims  of  prac- 
tical volition  finds  its  consummation  in  the  setting  up  of  a  highest  purpose  which 
embraces  all  individual  acts,  and  in  the  insight  that  that  purpose  must  be  uncondi- 
tionally willed. 

It  will  be  readily  seen  that  the  inquiries  set  involve  a  consideration  of  the  his- 
tory of  science,  and  as  the  first  and  most  essential  foundation  the  analysis  of  all  our 
notions  into  the  simplest  elements,  with  their  resultant  manifold  syntheses  con- 
structed according  to  fixed  rigid  rules.  How  these  two  principles  lead  to  the  exam- 
ination of  the  fundamental  notions  of  mathematics,  psychology,  etc.,  is  evident,  as 
is  also  the  manner  in  which  they  must  be  grouped  in  such  a  consideration. 

A  very  interesting  addition  to  the  second  edition  is  a  discussion  of  the  notion  of 
effect  appended  to  the  section  of  that  name,  treating  of  causality,  where  Wundt's 
notions  of  substantial  and  actual  causality  are  very  clearly  criticised.  A  feature  of 
the  second  part,  also,  is  Sigwart's  special  discussion  of  the  methodological  premises 
of  psychology. 


Coming  to  Wundt,  some  idea  of  this  author's  conception  of  the  scope  and  pur- 
pose of  logic  will  be  given,  as  best  characterising  the  work.  Although  we  should  not 
accept  to-day,  says  Wundt,  Kant's  dictum  of  the  stability  of  logic,  nor  ascribe  any 
real  value  to  the  artifices  of  the  scholastic  syllogistics,  much  less  regard  thought  as 
a  simple  mechanism  of  subsumption,  it  is  yet  customary  with  most  authors,  despite 
this  belief,  to  start  from  the  old  traditions.  By  their  adherence  to  these  old  forms, 
however,  they  unwittingly  hamper  themselves,  for  the  Aristotelian  logic,  though  it 
is  useless  as  an  organon  of  truth,  is  still  not  incorrect.  Wundt,  therefore,  in  his  in- 
vestigation begins  anew  and  draws  his  material,  not  from  tradition,  but  from  the 
living  testimolfies  of  thought  in  language,  and  from  those  assured  and  successful 
methods  of  acquiring  knowledge  actually  used  in  scientific  research.  Only  in  so 


BOOK  REVIEWS. 

far  as  historical  elucidation  is  necessary  is  the  traditional  side  of  logic  regarded  in 
his  treatment. 

Logic,  according  to  Wundt,  must  give  account  of  the  laws  of  thought  which  are 
active  in  the  quest  of  truth.  Logic  is  made  thus  to  assume  a  place  between  psy- 
chology, the  general  science  of  mind,  and  the  remaining  theoretical  sciences.  Psy- 
chology teaches  us  how  the  course  of  thought  is  actually  accomplished  ;  logic 
determines  how  the  course  of  thought  must  be  accomplished  in  order  to  lead  to 
correct  results.  Whilst  the  individual  sciences  seek  to  ascertain  the  facts  of  their 
respective  provinces,  logic  seeks  out  the  universal  rules  for  the  methods  of  thought 
applied  in  those  researches  ;  it  is  thus  a  normative  science.  The  problems  of  logic 
refer  us  back  on  the  one  hand  to  psychological  inquiries,  and  on  the  other  they 
carry  us  forward  to  the  universal  principles  of  knowledge  and  the  modes  of  pro- 
cedure of  scientific  inquiry.  If  the  laws  of  logical  thought  are  not  to  be  accepted 
as  inexplicable  facts,  their  origin  must  be  sought  for  in  our  subjective  experience. 
Further,  if  these  laws  are  to  subserve  the  purposes  of  the  quest  of  truth,  the  ground 
of  their  evidence  must  be  examined  and  the  conditions  ascertained  under  which 
their  application  leads  to  actual  knowledge.  Finally,  if  logic  is  to  assist  the  theo- 
retical sciences,  it  must  trace  out  the  complicated  forms  which  the  logical  laws  take 
on  in  the  actual  methods  of  scientific  research.  Besides  the  expression  of  the  logi- 
cal norms  Wundt,  therefore,  demands  of  scientific  logic  three  things  :  a  history  of 
the  psychological  genesis  of  thought ;  an  investigation  of  the  foundations  and  con- 
ditions of  knowledge  ;  and  an  analysis  of  the  logical  methods  of  scientific  research. 
To  sum  up,  logic  requires  epistemology  for  its  foundation  and  methodology  for  its 
completion. 

After  his  short  review  of  the  forms  which  logic  assumes  in  the  hands  of  the  great 
philosophers,  which  may  be  classified  under  the  general  heads  of  formal  logic  and 
metaphysical  or  dialectic  logic,  Wundt  discusses  the  relations  of  logic  to  philosophy 
in  somewhat  the  following  terms.  Formal  logic  is  declared  by  its  representatives 
to  be  the  universal  propaedeutic  of  philosophy,  and  to  be  exempt  from  the  dispute 
which  hovers  over  all  philosophical  questions.  But  this  advantage  is  obtained  at 
the  cost  of  its  scientific  character.  Hven  if  that  were  the  main  office  of  logic  it 
would  still  fail  of  its  purpose,  for  sceptics  and  dogmatists  have  frequently  enough 
disputed  the  certainty  of  the  logical  norms  as  being  simply  empirical  rules,  and 
rationalists  and  empiricists  have  not  infrequently  accorded  in  the  statement  that 
those  logical  norms  were  worthless,  as  at  best  they  simply  taught  how  existing 
knowledge  was  to  be  ordered,  and  not  how  it  was  to  be  acquired.  On  the  other 
hand,  whilst  formal  logic  placed  itself  outside  of  philosophy,  the  metaphysical  logic 
pretended  to  be  philosophy  itself.  It  was  an  organon  of  thought  in  the  fullest  sense 
of  the  word,  for  its  instrument  created  its  subject-matter.  By  the  principle  of  the 
identity  of  thought  and  being,  logical  thought  developed  by  its  own  spontaneous 
movement  the  connexion  of  ideas :  logic  became  metaphysics,  which  in  its  turn 
embraces  all  other  philosophical  disciplines  as  dependent  provinces.  Scientific 


62O  THE  MONIST. 

logic  finally  regards  itself  as  a  branch  of  philosophy,  for  philosophy  seeks  to  resolve 
the  problems  which  are  common  to  the  individual  sciences.  And  these  problems 
are  of  two  kinds.  They  refer  partly  to  the  general  content  of  knowledge,  partly  to 
its  foundations  and  to  the  norms  of  its  development.  With  the  content  of  knowl- 
edge metaphysics  busies  itself.  She  expounds  this  content  in  general  notions  about 
being  and  in  laws  concerning  its  relations.  Such  notions  and  laws  are,  it  is  true, 
developed  by  the  experimental  sciences,  and  only  subsequently  handed  over  by 
them  to  philosophy,  which  subjects  them  to  a  final  elaboration  in  order  to  bring  the 
single  facts  and  hypotheses  in  harmony  with  one  another  and  with  the  general  prin- 
ciples of  cognition,  and  to  complete  them  finally  by  means  of  further  suppositions 
which  are  demanded  by  the  connexion  of  the  different  provinces  of  experience. 
The  aim  of  metaphysics,  thus,  is  the  creation  of  a  consistent  view  of  the  world 
which  will  put  all  isolated  knowledge  into  solid  interconnexion. 

As  it  is  the  office  of  metaphysics  to  present  developed  knowledge,  so  it  is  the 
office  of  logic  to  present  developing  knowledge,  with  the  methods  that  lead  to  it  and 
the  means  which  human  thought  employs.  The  theory  of  knowledge  might  be  given 
an  independent  middle  place  between  logic  and  metaphysics  as  that  discipline  which 
is  to  investigate  the  content  and  not  the  methods  of  knowledge  or  its  foundations 
and  its  limits.  But  with  the  establishment  of  this  task  the  theory  of  knowledge  is 
put  into  the  most  intimate  relation  with  logic.  For  one  of  its  principal  tasks  must 
be  to  examine  with  respect  to  their  origin  and  certainty  the  logical  norms  and  meth- 
ods themselves.  Logic,  therefore,  cannot  dispense  with  the  aid  of  epistemological 
inquiries.  Similarly  the  fundamental  notions  and  laws  of  scientific  cognition  stand 
in  close  relation  to  the  general  laws  of  thought,  and  here  again  the  more  compli- 
cated logical  methods  presuppose  throughout  principles  which,  like  the  notion  of 
substance  or  the  laws  of  causality,  for  example,  are  proper  subjects  of  epistemolo- 
gical investigation.  On  these  grounds  it  appears  impracticable  to  separate  from 
each  other  in  an  exposition  of  this  subject  the  provinces  of  epistemology  and  scien- 
tific logic. 

Assigning  to  logic,  therefore,  this  more  general  significance,  logic  and  meta- 
physics are  the  two  halves  of  theoretic  philosophy.  But  logic  is  that  half  which 
stands  in  more  intimate  relation  with  the  single  sciences.  With  metaphysics  this 
relation  is  a  one-sided  one.  She  is  compelled  to  learn  from  empirical  research, 
whilst  the  latter  in  its  collection  of  facts  and  in  the  development  of  provisional  hy- 
potheses need  take  no  account  of  metaphysical  requirements.  With  logic,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  relation  is  throughout  a  reciprocal  one.  From  the  modes  of  mental 
procedure  and  of  research  as  actually  practised,  logic  abstracts  its  general  re- 
sults ;  afterwards,  however,  it  hands  over  these  general  results  to  the  individual 
sciences  as  binding  norms,  to  which  at  the  same  time  it  adds  rigorous  conclusions 
with  respect  to  the  certainty  and  the  limits  of  cognition  which,  if  it  neglect,  special 
research  will  be  easily  led  away  from  its  assured  foundations  to  end  up  in  ground- 
less doubts  or  in  crude  metaphysics. 


BOOK  REVIEWS.  621 

With  this  the  substance  and  the  differences  of  the  two  systems  are  sufficiently 
emphasised,  to  admit  of  comparisons,  which  the  reader  may  draw  for  himself. 

T.  J.  McC. 

THE  PSYCHIC  FACTORS  OF  CIVILISATION.     By  Lester  F.   Ward.     Boston  :  Ginn  & 
Co.      1893.     Price,  $2.00.      Pages,  369. 

This  work  is  intended  as  a  contribution  to  both  psychology  and  sociology,  and 
attempts  to  place  "over  against  the  purely  physiological  economy  "  a  psychological 
economy.  "For,"  says  the  author,  "human  society  which  is  the  highest  product 
"of  evolution,  naturally  depends  upon  mind  which  is  the  highest  property  of  mat- 
"ter"  (p.  3). 

Mind  is  possessed  of  two  sides,  viz.,  of  feelings  and  emotions,  or  the  subjective 
side,  and  of  the  intellect,  or  the  objective  side.  Thus  the  work  naturally  divides 
itself  into  three  parts  :  (i)  the  subjective  factors,  (2)  the  objective  factors,  and  (3) 
the  social  synthesis  of  the  factors.  The  first  part  undertakes  to  show  that  the  true 
forces  of  society  are  psychic  ;  the  second  part  explains  the  directive  agent  control- 
ling the  social  forces,  which  is  also  psychic,  being  the  objective  side  of  mind  or 
thought.  The  third  part  points  out  how  the  social  forces,  under  the  control  of  the 
directive  agent,  have  established  society. 

This  in  great  outlines  is  the  plan  of  the  work,  which  is  clear  and  recommend- 
able  ;  but  the  reader  is  confronted  with  difficulties  as  soon  as  he  enters  into  the  de- 
tails of  the  exposition,  and  we  must  confess  that  in  glancing  through  this  book  we 
are  more  than  ever  impressed  with  the  desirability  of  having  in  psychology  definite 
and  commonly  accepted  terms.  The  terms  "psychic"  and  "mental"  may  mean 
the  same,  or  they  may  not.  Emotions  and  feelings  on  the  one  side,  and  intellect 
on  the  other,  are  represented  as  "  the  obverse  and  reverse  of  the  same  coin."  Yet 
is  intellect  said  to  "  embrace  the  entire  thinking  part  of  the  mind,  all  of  mind  that 
"is  not  feeling"  (p.  225).  That  which  constitutes  the  nature  of  thought  is  not  the 
feeling  element  of  thought  ;  nevertheless,  there  can  be  no  thought  which  is  not  at 
the  same  time  feeling.  Mr.  Ward  says,  "The  common  expression,  unconscious, 
feeling,'  is  a  "  contradiction  of  terms";  yet  he  classifies  sensations  into  (i)  "pleasur- 
able and  painful,"  (2)  "conscious  and  unconscious"  (p.  125).  Are  not  "sensa- 
tions" included  under  the  head  of  "feelings,"  and  if  there  are  no  unconscious 
feelings,  how  can  there  be  unconscious  sensations?  We  should  say  that  "con- 
sciousness "  is  a  peculiarly  intensified  state  of  feeling  and  have  no  objection  to 
speaking  of  subconscious  or  dim  and  even  unconscious  feelings. 

Emotions  are  characterised  as  "secondary  sensations";  they  are  "reflected 
"from  the  brain  along  special  nerve-fibres  to  certain  specialised  emotional  ganglia 
"  within  the  organism,"  and  are  said  to  have  their  seat  in  the  sympathetic  system — 
a  theory  that  is  scarcely  tenable  on  physiological  grounds.  Schopenhauer,  who  in 
spite  of  his  genius  was  not  free  from  certain  metaphysical  and  telepathic  supersti- 


622  THE  MONIST. 

tions,  was  inveigled  into  holding  a  similar  belief  because  somnambulists  place  books, 
which  they  pretend  to  read  with  closed  eyes,  upon  their  stomachs. 

The  most  serious  deficiency  in  the  treatment  of  terms  is  Mr.  Ward's  omission 
of  a  description  of  the  nature  of  mind.  A  definition  of  mind  would,  in  our  opinion, 
be  most  indispensable  in  a  psychological  sociology,  but  we  can  find  no  allusion  to 
the  subject,  except  that  mind  is  said  to  be  the  highest  property  of  matter.  And  it 
appears  that  Mr.  Ward  regards  mind  as  incapable  of  explanation,  for  he  adds,  when 
speaking  of  intellect  on  page  225,  "  that  any  property  involves  mystery."  It  is  true 
that  we  do  not  know  why  quinine  is  bitter,  but  suppose  we  knew  the  molecular  con- 
stitution of  the  papillae  on  the  tongue,  and  the  chemical  action  of  quinine,  sugar, 
vinegar,  and  other  substances  upon  the  papillae,  would  it  not  be  probable  that  we 
should  come  to  understand  why  sugar  has  a  sweet  and  quinine  a  bitter  taste,  in  the 
same  way  as  we  know  why  the  seventh  in  a  melody  produces  the  sentiment  of  ex- 
pectation and  unrest,  while  a  return  to  the  keynote  is  accompanied  with  a  feeling  of 
satisfaction.  Certainly  we  do  not  as  yet  know  the  molecular  form  which  produces 
sentiency,  but  we  do  know  that  it  depends  on  a  peculiar  kind  of  interaction,  such  as 
can  be  observed  in  protoplasm.  Certainly,  we  cannot  say  that  it  is  mysterious  be- 
cause all  the  properties  are  mysterious.  Mysterious  though  it  is  at  present,  the 
time  may  come  when  we  shall  understand  the  conditions  of  sentiency,  as  well  as 
those  of  many  other  properties,  for  instance,  the  transparency  of  glass,  which  pre- 
supposes a  molecular  arrangement  permitting  the  transmission  of  ether-waves  with- 
out disturbance.  Now,  the  nature  of  mind  is  by  no  means  mysterious  or  unknown, 
nor  are  we  justified  in  regarding  it  as  a  mere  "accident"  (see  p.  89).  Mind  is  the 
natural  and  necessary  outcome  of  sentiency.  Suppose  the  world,  which  in  its  ob- 
jective aspect  appears  as  matter  moving  in  space,  to  be  throughout  possessed  of 
subjectivity  exactly  proportionate  to  the  form  of  its  objectivity:  will  it  not  necessa- 
rily cause  mind  and  intellect  to  appear  in  the  subjectivity  of  those  combinations 
which  preserve  in  the  flux  of  their  activity  the  forms  of  former  impressions  so  as  to 
admit  of  their  revivification.  Memory  in  sentient  structures  is  the  condition  of 
mind,  and  memory  is  not  a  mysterious  quality  :  it  is  the  preservation  of  sentient 
forms.  Mind  originates  as  soon  as  various  revived  feelings  acquire  meaning  repre- 
senting the  causes  which  excited  them  as  external  objects.*  It  is  a  great  pity  that 
Mr.  Ward  has  neglected  memory  and  the  paramount  importance  of  the  role  it  plays 
in  the  production  of  mind  and  intellect. 

While  Mr.  L.  F.  Ward  upon  the  whole  shows  many  influences  of  Schopenhauer, 
we  cannot  say  that  he  is  just  toward  his  pessimism.  Schopenhauer's  pessimism  is 
one  of  the  most  powerful  philosophies  of  all  ages,  and  is  not  merely  "  the  negation  of 
pleasure "  (p.  64).  We  should  prefer  to  characterise  it  as  the  doctrine  which 
teaches,  on  the  one  hand,  the  vanity  of  pleasure,  and  on  the  other  hand,  the  inevi- 
tableness  of  pain,  thus  coming  to  the  conclusion  that  life  is  not  worth  living.  Mr. 

*  See  my  Soul  of  Man,  Chap.  I. 


BOOK  REVIEWS.  623 

L.  F.  Ward  says  :  "The  answer  to  pessimism  comes  from  psychometry.  .  .  If  the 
' '  act  of  gratifying  a  desire  were  absolutely  instantaneous,  there  would  be  no  answer 
"to  the  pessimist"  (p.  65).  But  "in  psychics  as  in  physics  no  phenomenon  can 
"take  place  except  in  time,  .  .  .  and  the  act  of  satisfying  a  desire  may  be  consider- 
ably prolonged,  or  in  certain  cases  almost  indefinitely  continued.  ...  In  the  pri- 
"  mary  physical  form  of  satisfying  love  it  is  only  momentary,  in  the  secondary 
"spiritual  form  it  seems  to  be  indefinite  in  time"  (p.  68).  "What  is  true  of  love  is 
"  true  also  of  other  permanent  pleasures  and  enjoyments.  They  are  real  at  least  to 
"  the  subjects  of  them,  and  there  is  every  reason  to  consider  them  objectively  real. 
"And  this  is  the  refutation  of  pessimism  "  It  is  to  be  feared  that  this  refutation 
will  convert  no  adherent  of  Schopenhauer.  The  reality  and  relative  permanence 
of  happiness  does  not  remove  pain,  sickness,  old  age,  and  death  ;  nor  does  it  dis- 
pose of  the  vanity  of  pleasure.  The  truth  of  pessimism  lies  too  deep  to  be  over- 
come by  Mr.  Ward's  arguments  ! 

We  agree  with  Mr.  Ward  that  both  pessimism  and  optimism  must  be  abandoned 
and  that  meliorism  is  to  be  accepted ;  but  the  meliorism  which  we  propose  is  dif- 
ferent in  one  important  point  from  his.  James  Sully  describes  George  Eliot's  mel- 
iorism as  "  a  faith  which  affirms  not  only  our  power  of  lessening  evil — this  nobody 
questions — but  also  our  ability  to  increase  the  amount  of  positive  good."  And  Mr. 
L.  F.  Ward's  meliorism  is  not  an  ethical  but  a  dynamic  principle.  In  our  opinion 
a  belief  in  the  increase  of  the  amount  of  good — which  can  as  little  be  doubted  as 
the  lessening  of  evil — cannot  overcome  pessimism  ;  for  the  happiness  of  the  world 
is  thereby  not  considerably,  perhaps  not  at  all,  increased.  While  some  evils 
are  lessened,  others  are  increased,  and  still  others  originated  that  did  not«exist. 
Happiness  depends  upon  the  satisfaction  of  wants  and  as  every  satisfaction  begets 
new  wants,  the  progress  of  evolution  will  naturally  increase  the  sensibility  to  pain  at 
least  in  the  same  degree  as  the  pleasures  of  satisfying  our  wants.  Progress  intensifies 
everything,  our  happiness  and  also  our  misery,  and  we  cannot  help  considering  the 
belief  in  a  millennium  upon  earth  as  an  empty  dream.  We  believe  that  pessimism 
is  irrefutable  to  him,  who,  like  Mr.  L.  F.  Ward,  regards  happiness  as  the  aim  of 
man's  life  (Chap.  XIII),  and  "  pain  in  and  of  itself  as  an  evil — the  only  evil  "  (p.  40). 
Consider  but  two  of  the  quotations  prefixed  to  Chap.  XI,  one  by  the  old  Goethe  whose 
life  had  been  one  of  the  happiest  on  earth,  who  says,  "ic/t  kann  woJil  sagen  dass  ich 
in  meinen  fiinfundsiebzig  fahren  keine  vier  Wochen  eigentliches  Beliagen  gehabt,"  and 
another  from  Humboldt's  memoirs,  "das  grosste  Gliick  ist  nock  das,  als  Flachkopj 
geboren  zu  sein." 

There  is  in  our  opinion  but  one  escape  from  pessimism  which  is  Buddha's  time- 
worn  and  ever  new  solution  of  the  problem,  whose  doctrine  may  briefly  be  summed 
up  in  the  injunction  "  to  surrender  all  thought  of  self  and  to  walk  in  the  noble  path 
of  righteousness."  Mr.  L.  F.  Ward's  meliorism  is  only  a  new  formulation  of  op- 
timism, and  the  truth  of  it  is,  to  say  the  least,  very  doubtful.  The  ethical  melior- 
ism, however,  fully  recognises  the  truth  of  pessimism  and  overcomes  pessimism  by 


624 


THE  MONIST. 


surrendering  from  the  beginning  all  those  illusions  the  impermanences  of  which  are 
complained  of.  The  improvements  of  a  "  dynamical  meliorism"  are  good  and  wel- 
come, but  they  are  of  no  avail  to  him  who  has  not  as  yet  understood  the  vanity  of 
pleasure  and  the  emptiness  of  a  life  devoted  to  the  interests  of  self. 

Mr.  L.  F.  Ward  makes  some  good  remarks  on  the  function  of  pain  but  his  in- 
ferences go  too  far.  He  speaks  of  ' '  the  purpose  [sic!]  for  which  feeling  was  created, " 
which  he  supposes  "to  consist  of  pleasure  and  pain"  (p.  39),  repeating  the  word 
"purpose"  not  only  on  the  same  and  on  the  following  page,  but  in  other  passages. 
He  maintains  that  pleasure  and  pain  are  the  products  of  natural  selection  or  of  the 
survival  of  the  fittest,  saying  : 

"Pleasure  and  pain  are  the  conditions  to  the  existence  of  plastic  organisms, 
"pleasure  leading  to  those  acts  which  insure  nutrition  and  reproduction,  and  pain 
"to  those  which  will  insure  safety." 

Pleasure  and  pain  are  undoubtedly  important  factors  in  the  evolution  of  the 
animal  world,  but  the  kingdom  of  plants  demonstrates  that  the  existence  of  plastic 
organisms  with  complex  systems  of  nutrition  and  reproduction  and  also  devices  for 
safety  is  possible  without  pleasure  and  pain.  Pleasure  and  pain  have  not  been 
created  for  any  purpose  or  because  life  would  not  be  possible  without  them  ;  must 
we  not  rather  assume  that  the  world  consists  of  potential  feeling  and  that  it  actually 
appears  in  animal  plasma? 

Mr.  L.  F.  Ward  speaks  much  of  an  omitted  factor  which,  for  lack  of  a  better 
name,  he  calls  "intuition."  Intuition  is  characterised  as  an  undecomposable  men- 
tal act,  absolutely  simple  and  undifferentiated.  He  likens  primary  intuition  to  pro- 
toplasm or  the  simplest  protozoans  (p.  274).  It  is  apparently  the  same  as  Kant's 
Anschauung,  and  is  by  no  means  an  omitted  factor  in  psychology,  notwithstanding 
Mr.  L.  F.  Ward's  disclaimer,  who  says,  "lam  not  aware  that  Kant  has  ever  ap- 
plied it  to  the  primary  and  practical  quality  of  mind  here  described  ....  it  is  with 
him  a  purely  metaphysical  conception  "  (p.  146).  Any  one  who  finds  in  Kant's  term 
Anschatiung  any  metaphysical  meaning  will  be  sure  to  misunderstand  the  funda- 
mental doctrines  of  his  "Critique."* 

In  the  third  part  Mr.  L.  F.  Ward  contrasts  what  he  calls  the  economics  of  nature 
and  of  mind,  the  former  being  based  upon  the  actions  of  the  human  animal  and  the 
latter  upon  the  actions  of  the  rational  man.  ' '  The  former  is  the  system  of  the  physio- 
crats, Adam  Smith,  Ricardo,  Malthus,  Herbert  Spencer,  and  the  modern  individual- 
ists. The  latter  was  foreshadowed  by  Auguste  Comte  but  has  never  taken  any  sys- 
tematic shape  except  in  '  Dynamic  Sociology,'  "  a  former  work  of  Mr.  L.  F.  Ward's. 
Mr.  Ward  here  understands  by  nature  "  all  classes  of  phenomena,  whether  physical, 
"vital,  or  even  psychic,  into  which  the  intellectual  or  rational  element  does  not 
"  enter,  while  the  word  mind  will,  for  the  sake  of  brevity,  be  employed  in  the  some- 
"  what  popular  or  conventional  sense  of  rational  or  intellectual,  the  two  terms  thus 

*  See  the  article  "  What  does  Anschauung  Mean?  in  The  Monist,  Vol.  II.  No.  4,  pp.  527-532. 


BOOK  REVIEWS.  625 

"  mutually  excluding  each  other,  and  taken  together  covering  all  possible  phenom- 
"ena."  We  have  our  doubts  whether  the  economists  of  nature,  so  called,  deserve 
Mr.  L.  F.  Ward's  criticism.  They  were  neither  blind  to  the  wastefulness  of  nature 
in  comparison  with  human  foresight  nor  did  they  ignore  in  their  systems  that  social 
states  are  constituted  by  sentient  and  rational  beings.  What  Mr.  Ward  does  not 
seem  to  appreciate  is  that  nature,  even  in  the  narrow  sense  in  which  he  defines  it, 
and  mind  do  not  exclude  one  another,  and  that  natural  laws  govern  even  our  mental 
acts,  our  desires  and  purposes  together  with  the  entire  growth  of  social  organisms. 
The  members  of  a  society  are  all  conscious  and  rational  beings  ;  they  pursue  their  aim 
and  make  their  plans,  but  they  cannot  with  impunity  replace  the  natural  laws  gov- 
erning the  social  relations  by  artificial  schemes.  There  is  no  such  contrast  between 
nature  and  mind  as  Mr.  L.  F.  Ward  seems  to  assume  in  his  definition  ;  nor  are  the 
teleological  aspirations  of  man  in  any  sense  a  reversal  of  the  natural  processes  but 
only  a  higher  and  more  perfect  stage  of  nature.  We  cannot  artificially  devise  them 
but  must  invent  them,  for  unless  they  agree  with  and  are  based  upon  the  natural 
laws  of  the  social  growth,  they  will  be  unavailable. 

Mr.  L.  F.  Ward  proposes  to  replace  the  old  systems  of  society,  "autocracy, 
aristocracy  or  democracy  or  even  plutocracy,"  by  sociocracy.  Democracy  is  the 
last  phase  through  which  all  must  pass  to  reach  sociocracy.  By  sociocracy  the 
author  understands  a  government  purely  in  the  interests  of  society.  "All  demo- 
cratic governments  are  largely  party  governments  ";  sociocracy  will  do  away  with 
parties  and  attend  to  the  business  of  the  people  in  a  business-like  way.  This,  how- 
ever, does  not  mean  socialism,  which  Mr.  L.  F.  Ward  regards  as  being  based  "  upon 
pure  theory  and  a  priori  deductions."  He  says  : 

"It  is  the  special  characteristic  of  the  form  of  government  that  I  have  called 
1 '  sociocracy,  resting,  as  it  does,  directly  upon  the  science  of  sociology,  to  investigate 
"the  facts  bearing  on  every  subject,  not  for  the  purpose  of  depriving  any  class  of 
"citizens  of  the  opportunity  to  benefit  themselves,  but  purely  and  solely  for  the 
"  purpose  of  ascertaining  what  is  for  the  best  interests  of  society  at  large." 

Mr.  L.  F  Ward  is  an  author  whose  literary  and  personal  accomplishments 
have  given  him  a  well  deserved  prominence  all  over  the  States  and  especially  at  his 
home,  Washington.  His  book  treats  a  subject  of  great  importance  ;  and  although 
we  cannot  agree  with  many  of  its  most  fundamental  tenets  we  recommend  its  study 
and  cannot  but  say  that  it  is  full  of  valuable  and  suggestive  thought.  P.  C. 

THE  INTRA-CRANIAL  CIRCULATION  AND  ITS  RELATION  TO  THE  PHYSIOLOGY  OF  THE 
BRAIN.  By  James  Cappie,  M.D.  Edinburgh:  James  Thin,  54  and  55  South 
Bridge.  1890.  Pp.  188. 

"  My  aim  in  the  following  pages,"  says  the  author,  "  has  been  to  give  a  contri- 
bution, on  the  one  hand,  to  intra-cranial  physics,  and  on  the  other  to  mental 
"physiology."  His  method  might  be  called  the  philosophical  method,  which  fore- 
stalls, but  does  not  preclude  experiment.  "  I  shall  not  despair  to  show,"  he  says, 


626  THE  MONIST. 

"that  by  the  method  I  intend  to  pursue,  more  light  may  be  thrown  on  the  physiol- 
' '  ogy  of  the  brain  than  can  in  the  meantime  be  expected  from  any  analysis  of  its 
"structures,  however  minute  and  accurate  that  may  be.  .  .  .  The  revelations  of 
"minute  anatomy  are  too  frequently  only  isolated  links.  They  furnish  interesting 
' '  facts,  rather  than  the  explanation  of  wider  phenomena.  They  show  us  instru- 
"ments,  but  not  action.  .  .  .  No  analysis  of  sea-water  would  ever  explain  the  flow 
"and  ebb  of  the  tide  ;  nor  will  the  microscope  or  test-tube  ever  explain  the  flow 
"  and  ebb  of  consciousness.  Possibly,  however,  some  measure  of  success  may  be  gainea 
"if  we  hold  the  brain,  as  it  were,  at  ami's  length,  and  take  a  bird"1  s-eye  view  of  its 
1 '  more  palpable  relations. ' ' 

With  respect  to  subject,  the  author's  contention  is,  that  the  physiological  bearing 
of  the  brain1  s  surroundings  has  not  received  in  late  years  the  attention  it  deserves. 
The  cranium  has  hitherto  been  regarded  simply  as  an  organ  of  protection.  "  It  is 
"more  than  likely,  however,  that,  as  I  shall  afterwards  attempt  to  show,  the  prop- 
' '  erties  of  the  skull  exert  a  positive  influence  on  the  physiological  action  of  the  brain 
"  itself.  Then,  what  indeed  appears  not  a  little  surprising,  is  the  circumstance  that 
"  the  peculiarities  of  the  encephalic  circulation — so  numerous  and  so  striking — now 
"receive  less  attention  than  they  did  in  the  early  years  of  the  century.  It  is  with 
"some  hope  of  reviving  interest  in  these  peculiarities,  and  to  point  out  certain 
"modes  in  which  they  can  exert  an  influence  on  the  brain's  activity,  that  I  now 
"venture  to  submit  the  following  essays." 

Dr.  Cappie  prefaces  his  investigation  with  a  few  pages  upon  the  philosophy  of 
physical  causation,  which  he  considers  simply  in  the  physical  point  of  view.  In  the 
main  he  takes  the  modern  scientific  view  of  cause,  holding  that  in  the  investigation 
of  physical  phenomena  we  must  not  substitute  a  general  term  for  facts.  For  ex- 
ample, the  true  scientist  does  not  attempt  to  grapple  with  an  entity  life  but  with  the 
conditions  which  go  to  constitute  something  living.  An  example  analogous  to  this 
which  bears  upon  the  chief  points  of  his  investigation  is  that  of  "  sleep."  It  is  fre- 
quently stated  by  physiologists  that  sleep  must  be  regarded  as  the  cause  rather  than 
as  the  consequence  of  the  so-called  cerebral  anaemia  which  obtains  in  the  substance 
of  the  brain  during  repose.  But  to  speak  of  sleep  as  a  cause  is  substituting  a  gen- 
eral term  for  conditions  of  fact.  Also,  "  no  law,  however  universal,  is  the  cause  of 
any  event."  With  respect  to  these  points  Dr.  Cappie  is  very  clear,  and  no  philo- 
sophical psychologist  will  withhold  his  assent  to  this  position.  But  if  "life," 
"sleep,"  etc.,  cannot  be  causes,  can  "energy  "  be  a  cause  ?  Dr.  Cappie  seems  to 
think  so,  for  he  says,  ' '  energy  itself  is  alone  privileged  to  exercise  actual  power, 
and,  therefore,  sole  efficient  cause."  The  objection  to  this  cannot  be  made  too 
strenuous.  Energy  is  an  abstract  physical  concept,  as  life  is  an  abstract  biological 
concept.  The  realities  it  represents  are  masses  in  actual  or  possible  motion,  mathe- 
matically expressed.  It,  with  matter,  is  no  more  the  fundamental  objective  reality 
(despite  Professor  Tait's  assertion)  than  is  the  theological  notion  of  God.  If  this 
were  seen,  Dr.  Cappie  would  not  say  that  energy  is  mysterious,  nor  that  motion  is 


BOOK   REVIEWS.  627 

something  apart  from  energy.  The  mystery  is  the  hypostatisation  of  an  abstract 
idea — viz.,  energy. 

On  the  question  of  the  correlation  of  mind  and  brain  also  Dr.  Cappie  is  clear, 
holding,  not  that  the  two  are  identical,  but  simply  that  every  form  of  mental  activ- 
ity must  have  its  somatic  side.  It  is,  as  we  have  seen,  the  special  question  of  this 
book  to  give  prominence  to  the  circulation  as  one  of  the  essential  factors  in  condi- 
tioning the  brain's  activity.  "  The  blood  is  to  the  grey  matter  of  the  brain  what 
atmospheric  air  is  to  fuel  in  ordinary  combustion."  A  consideration  of  the  laws  of 
this  circulation,  says  the  author,  is  of  first  importance  in  any  attempt  to  take  a  com- 
prehensive view  of  the  brain's  physiology.  But  on  this  subject  there  is  a  gap  in 
physiological  and  psychological  works.  However,  the  circulation  within  the  skull 
contrasts  so  remarkably  with  that  of  other  parts  of  the  body  that  the  peculiarities 
presented  cannot  help  possessing  some  definite  physiological  significance.  Dr.  Cap- 
pie  then  devotes  a  number  of  pages,  adorned  by  three  beautiful  plates,  to  a  lucid  ex- 
position of  intra-cranial  circulation,  the  results  of  which  are  that  in  the  brain  the  quan- 
tity of  blood  is  larger  in  proportion  to  the  size  of  the  organ  nourished  than  in  other 
parts  of  the  body;  that  the  larger  arteries  communicate  with  one  another  more 
freely  here  than  in  other  parts  ;  that  the  circulation  of  the  brain  mass  is  practically 
capillary;  that  the  larger  veins  and  arteries  lie  apart  from  one  another  ;  and  that 
the  venous  blood  is  transmitted  through  channels  with  tough,  inelastic  walls. 

After  showing  that  the  circulation  of  the  brain  is  in  part  capillary,  and  that  its 
rapidity  varies  with  the  requirements  of  nutrition,  that  the  mass  of  blood  within 
the  cranium  is  practically  uniform,  and  that  the  pressure  of  the  atmosphere  upon 
the  contents  of  the  cranium  is  an  important  factor,  the  author  comes  to  the  causa- 
tion of  sleep.  This  is  the  chief  theme  of  the  book.  We  shall  state  his  hypothesis  in 
his  own  words.  He  says  :  ' '  We  have  not  one  or  two,  but  a  combination  and  suc- 
"  cession  of  conditions  inseparably  linked  together.  The  first  change  is  a  modi- 
"  fied — a  less  energetic — movement  in  the  molecules  of  the  brain  tissue  ;  the  last  is 
"compression  of  the  whole  organ.  From  lessened  activity  of  the  molecules  spring 
' '  a  less  active  state  of  the  capillary  circulation  and  diminished  stress  through  the 
' '  cranial  cavity.  Next,  we  have  a  change  in  the  balance  of  the  encephalic  circula- 
"  tion,  in  producing  which  the  weight  of  the  atmosphere,  causing  backward  pressure 
"in  the  cerebral  veins,  is  an  essential  agent.  The  circulation  in  the  brain  itself  is 
' '  diminished  ;  its  vessels  become  comparatively  empty,  and  to  a  corresponding  ex- 
' '  tent  the  proportion  of  blood  in  the  veins  is  increased.  With  the  altered  balance 
"of  the  circulation  there  is  a  change  in  the  balance  of  active  pressure;  it  is  less 
' '  from  within  and  more  on  the  surface  ;  it  is  less  expansive  and  more  compressing. 
"  With  a  certain  amount  of  compression  consciousness  is  suspended."  For  the  full 
details  we  must  refer  the  reader  to  the  work  itself. 

In  the  eighth  section  of  the  book  the  author  considers  "  how  the  peculiarities 
"of  the  encephalic  circulation  may  affect  the  mode  or  outcome  of  functional  activ- 
ity in  the  brain  itself."  The  immediate  seat  of  any  activity  must  have  its  vascu- 


628  THE  MONIST. 

larity  increased,  and  as  a  consequence  some  other  portion  of  the  brain  must  become 
less  vascular.  Secondly,  a  certain  amount  of  pressure  must  be  exerted  on  the  sur- 
rounding tissues  which  will  produce  a  more  rapid  movement  of  the  blood  current. 
Take  attention.  In  the  state  of  indifference  the  encephalic  circulation  will  have  a 
certain  balance.  If  an  impression  is  made  on  some  sensory  surface  of  sufficient 
strength  to  secure  attention,  the  vascular  activity  of  the  part  receiving  the  impres- 
sion will  be  increased.  So  with  attention.  Its  cerebral  correlation  is  the  focussing 
of  the  encephalic  circulation  in  the  direction  of  the  activity,  the  increased  activity 
of  the  circulation  reacting  on  the  energy  of  the  tissue,  thus  making  the  mental  effect 
produced  stronger.  "The  momentum  of  the  circulation  is  now  directed  towards 
"the  centres  of  ideation  and  voluntary  motion,  and  that  implies  derivation  from 
"and  consequent  weakening  of  functional  vigor  in  the  sensory  ganglia." 

Similar  applications  are  made  to  explain  other  familiar  phenomena  of  mental 
physiology,  including  hypnotism.  His  principles,  the  author  states,  may  also  be 
applied  to  hysteria  and  other  forms  of  insanity. 

It  is  not  within  the  province  of  The  Monist  to  pass  judgment  upon  special  re- 
searches of  this  character.  In  the  formulation  of  his  problems,  and  in  the  clear  em- 
phasis of  the  points  at  issue,  Dr.  Cappie's  method  reminds  us  of  Ribot.  Also,  with 
respect  to  the  influence  of  anatomical  characters  on  physiological  and  correlatively 
on  psychical  action,  the  idea  of  the  author  is  related  to  the  remarks  of  M.  Binet,  on 
a  different  subject,  presented  in  Vol.  Ill,  No.  i,  and  Vol.  IV,  No.  i,  of  The  Monist. 
But  whatever  their  ultimate  worth — which  experience,  if  not  experiment,  will  some- 
time determine — the  reader  of  Dr.  Cappie's  work  will  find  his  conclusions  clearly 
and  undogmatically  put,  and  will  not  regret  the  time  spent  upon  its  perusal. 

THOMAS  J.  McCoRMACK. 

SOCIAL  EVOLUTION.  By  Benjamin  Kidd.  New  York  and  London  :  Macmillan  & 
Co.  1894.  Pp.  348.  Price,  $2.50. 

It  is  one  of  the  chief  results  of  Mr.  Kidd's  meditations  that  the  evolution  which 
is  slowly  proceeding  in  human  society  is  not  primarily  intellectual  but  religious  in 
character.  "It  would  appear,"  he  says,  "that  when  man  became  a  social  creature 
' '  his  progress  ceased  to  be  primarily  in  the  direction  of  the  development  of  his  in- 
' '  tellect.  Thenceforward,  in  the  conditions  under  which  natural  selection  has  ope- 
"  rated,  his  interests  as  an  individual  were  no  longer  paramount  ;  they  became  sub- 
' '  ordinate  to  the  distinct  and  widely  different  interests  of  the  longer-lived  social 
"organism  to  which  he  for  the  time  being  belonged.  The  intellect,  of  course,  con- 
"  tinues  to  be  a  most  important  factor  in  enabling  the  system  to  which  the  individ- 
' '  ual  belongs  to  maintain  its  place  in  the  rivalry  of  life  ;  but  it  is  no  longer  the 
"prime  factor.  .  .  .  The  race  would,  in  fact,  appear  to  be  growing  more  and  more 
"religious,  the  winning  sections  being  those  in  which,  cateris paribus,  this  type  of 
"  character  is  most  fully  developed." 

In  speaking  of  the  Utilitarian  conception  of  ethics,  which  he  rejects  as  incon- 


BOOK  REVIEWS.  629 

sistent  with  the  teachings  of  evolutionary  science,  Mr.  Kidd  well  says  that  "  The 
"greatest  good  which  the  evolutionary  forces,  operating  in  society,  are  working  out, 
"is  the  good  of  the  social  organism  as  a  whole.  [But  that]  the  greatest  number  in 
"  tJiis  sense  is  comprised  of  the  members  of  generations  yet  tinhorn  or  iinthought  of,  to 
"  whose  interests  the  existing  individuals  are  absolutely  indifferent."  His  own  idea 
of  the  teaching  of  evolutionary  science  as  applied  to  society  is  "  that  there  is  only 
"  one  way  in  which  trie  rationalistic  factor  in  human  evolution  can  be  controlled  ; 
"namely,  through  the  instrumentality  of  religious  systems.  These  systems  consti- 
' '  tute  the  absolutely  characteristic  feature  of  our  evolution,  the  necessary  and  in- 
' '  evitable  complement  of  our  reason.  It  is  under  the  influence  of  these  systems 
' '  that  the  evolution  of  the  race  is  proceeding  ;  it  is  in  connexion  with  these  systems 
"that  we  must  study  the  laws  which  regulate  the  character,  growth,  and  decay  of 
"  societies  and  civilisations." 

The  author  disclaims  any  pretension  to  treat  the  subject  of  the  evolution  of  so- 
ciety "  in  its  relations  to  that  wider  field  of  philosophical  inquiry  of  which  it  forms 
a  province."  This  may,  perhaps,  explain  Mr.  Kidd's  contention  that  those  who 
aspire  after  a  rational  basis  for  individual  conduct  in  society  are  in  pursuit  of  some- 
thing which  can  never  exist.  "  There  can  never  be,"  he  says,  "  such  a  thing  as  a 
"rational  religion.  The  essential  element  in  all  religious  beliefs  must  apparently 
' '  be  the  w//rrz-rational  sanction  which  they  must  provide  for  social  conduct.  .  .  . 
"  No  form  of  belief  is  capable  of  functioning  as  a  religion  in  the  evolution  of  society 
"  whieh  does  not  provide  an  ultra-rational  sanction  for  social  conduct  in  the  individ- 
"ua/-.  In  other  words:  A  rational  religion  is  a  scientific  impossibility  representing 
"from  the  nature  of  the  case  an  inherent  contradiction  of  terms." 

Mr.  Kidd  holds  this  view  because  of  his  definition  of  religion  which  is  :  "A  re- 
' '  ligion  is  a  form  of  belief,  providing  an  ultra-rational  sanction  for  that  large  class 
' '  of  conduct  in  the  individual  ivhere  his  interests  and  the  interests  of  the  social  organ- 
"  ism  are  antagonistic,  and  by  which  the  former  are  rendered  subordinate  to  tJie  latter 
"in  the  general  interests  of  the  evolution  which  the  race  is  undergoing." 

If  you  say  to  him,  "  Here  is  a  religion,  scientifically  deduced,  with  no  supra- 
rational  sanction,"  he  will  answer,  'That  religion  is  not  a  religion  because  it  is  not 
'  a  social  phenomenon.  It  has  not  proved  itself  to  be  a  religion.  It  has  not  in- 
'  fluenced  and  moved  large  masses  of  men  in  the  manner  of  a  religion.  If  you  wish 
'  to  accept  this  system  as  a  religion  you  may,  but  you  do  so  merely  on  the  ipse  dixit 
'of  a  small  group  of  persons  who  chance  so  to  describe  it.' 

In  a  sense  this  is  true.  Not  every  wild  scheme  of  conduct  or  view  of  the  world 
is  a  religion.  To  be  such,  it  must  be  proved.  But  admitting  that  the  proof  must 
be  more  than  individual,  it  does  not  necessarily  follow  that  it  must  be  historical. 
When  Buddha  reached  his  solution  of  the  religious  question,  was  it  or  was  it  not  a  re- 
ligion ?  According  to  Mr.  Kidd,  it  was  not ;  but  the  fact  is,  it  was.  Buddha's  proof 
was  deduced  from  the  logic  of  facts,  just  as  the  proofs  of  the  scientific  schemes  of 
religion,  which  Mr.  Kidd  repudiates,  claim  to  be  deduced.  Whether  the  deduction 


630  THE  MONIST. 

is  correct  is  another  question  ;  but  at  any  rate  it  is  a  subject  of  reason.  Says  Bud- 
dha ( "  Mahatanhasakhamya  Sutta,  Majjhima  Nikaya,"  Vol.  I.  p.  265)  :  "If  ye  now 
know  thus,  and  see  thus,  O  disciples,  will  ye  then  say  :  We  respect  the  Master,  and 
out  of  reverence  for  the  Master  do  we  thus  speak?" — "That  we  shall  not,  O  sire." 
—  .  .  .  .  "  What  ye  speak,  O  disciples,  is  it  not  even  that  which  ye  have  yourselves 
known,  yourselves  seen,  yourselves  realised?" — "It  is,  sire."  Here  is  a  religion 
without  a  supra-rational  sanction  for  conduct.  And  the  fact  goes  to  disprove  Mr. 
Kidd's  whole  theory.*  T.  J.  McC. 

PAIN,  PLEASURE,  AND  ^ESTHETICS.  An  Essay  Concerning  the  Psychology  of  Pain 
and  Pleasure,  with  Special  Reference  to  ^Esthetics.  By  Henry  Rutgers 
Marshall,  M.A.  London  and  New  York  :  Macmillan  &  Co.  1894.  Pp.  359. 
Price  $3.00. 

The  main  idea  of  this  book  is  to  treat  aesthetics  as  a  branch  of  hedonics ;  art  is 
viewed  as  a  species  of  pleasure,  and  artistic  enjoyment  is  defined  as  that  kind  of 
pleasure  which  is  relatively  permanent  in  revival  (Chap.  III).  This  classification, 
simple  though  it  is  as  stated  in  its  generality,  is  defended  by  the  author  with 
elaborate  circumlocution  by  investigations  into  the  psychology  of  the  phenomena  of 
pleasure  and  pain,  for  which  he  coins  the  new  word  algedonic\  (derived  from  akyoq 
and  ifiovr]}.  The  first  chapter  (pp.  1-62)  contains  a  discussion  of  feeling,  emotion, 
Gefiihl,  Empfindung,  sensibilite  in  their  relation  to  algedonic  phenomena ;  the 
heory  that  "pleasure  and  pain  are  qualities  of  a  most  general  nature,  either  one  of 
which  may,  and  one  of  which  must,  belong  to  each  psychic  element  which  is  differen- 
tiable"  (p.  61)  being  proposed  as  a  working  hypothesis.  The  fourth  and  fifth  chap- 
ters discuss  the  much  mooted  problem  of  the  physical  basis  of  pleasure  and  pain. 
We  read  on  page  169  (repeated  on  p.  194),  "  The  activity  of  the  organ  of  any  content 
if  efficient  is  pleasurable,  if  inefficient  is  painful."  Efficiency  or  inefficiency  are  de- 
scribed as  "functions  of  the  relation  between  activity  and  nutrition,  pleasure  being 
dependent  upon  the  use  of  surplus  stored  force  and  pain  upon  conditions  under  which 
the  outcome  of  the  organ's  activity  is  less  than  should  be  expected  in  consideration  of 
the  energy  involved  in  the  stimulus."  This  view  seems  to  us  wholly  inadequate  to 
cover  the  facts  to  be  explained,  but  the  author  not  only  finds  some  corroboration  of  it, 
but  also  trusts  it  "to  be  in  line  with  the  important  position  maintained  in  Chapter  I, 
namely  that  pleasure  and  pain  are  general  qualities"  as  stated  above.  In  the  second 
chapter  the  author  protests  against  identifying  the  emotions  with  pleasure  and  pain 
phenomena  (p.  90  and  94-95),  calling  the  former  "representative  pleasures  and 
pains"  and  defining  them  as  "the  psychic  coincidents  of  relatively  fixed  co-ordinated 


*  Mr.  Kidd  says  the  notion  of  Karman  is  the  ultra-rational  sanction  of  Buddhism,  and  with 
this  dismisses  this  religion  as  fitting  in  with  his  theory.  But  the  kernel  of  the  idea  of  Karman 
is  certainly  not  ultra-rational,  unless  the  theory  of  heredity  and  evolution  are  so. 

t  Alghedonic  (to  be  pronounced  "  alg-he-do'nic,"  not  "  al-je-donic  ")  would  have  been  more 
appropriate. 


BOOK   REVIEWS.  63! 

instinctive  activities  arising  upon  the  appearance  of  definite  objects."  The  sixth 
chapter  applies  the  author's  theories  to  what  he  calls  "algedonic  aesthetics."  Mr, 
Marshall  is  aware  that  "  the  evidence  presented  is  not  crucial,"  but  he  is  satisfied 
that  "in  pushing  the  theory  to  its  conclusions  serious  oppositions  have  not  been 
developed."  Nor  is  it  probable  that  any  opposition  ever  will  develop  to  Mr.  Mar- 
shall's theories,  but  we  doubt  their  helpfulness  and  practical  use  in  the  domains  of 
science  and  art,  to  the  reconciliation  of  which  the  work  is  laudably  dedicated,  /c. 

EMPFINDUNG  UNO  BEWUSSTSEIN.     Monistische  Bedenken  von  B.  Carneri.     Bonn  : 
Emil  Strauss.      1893. 

It  is  Mr.  Carneri's  purpose  in  this  pamphlet  to  present  to  the  philosophical 
world  the  objections  which  have  arisen  in  his  mind  affecting  the  purity  of  the  mod- 
ern monistic  view  of  the  world.  Monism,  he  claims,  is  scientifically  established ; 
the  only  problem  left  is  what  kind  of  monism  must  be  accepted.  Mr  Carneri's 
"objections"  are  chiefly  levelled  against  the  doctrines  which  claim  that  mind  is 
simply  a  side  or  aspect  of  matter,  and  not  a  function  of  it  ;  these  doctrines  logically 
imply,  he  thinks,  the  existence  of  a  nervous  system  or  organisation  in  all  matter, 
and  also  a  complete  unity  of  nervous  and  conscious  activity,  which  is  absurd.  Mind 
is  not,  however,  an  achievement  of  matter  per  se,  but  of  matter  as  a  human  organism. 

His  position  apparently  implies  (i)  materialism  and  (2)  agnosticism.  But  the 
first  is  refuted  by  the  fact  that  in  the  idealistic  view  all  matter  is  a  simple  notion  of 
the  mind  ;  and  with  respect  to  the  second  (we  quote  from  a  private  letter  on  this 
subject  from  the  author  to  the  editor  of  The  Monist],  Mr.  Carneri  says  he  will  not 
accept  the  appellation  of  "Agnostic,"  unless  he  is  forced  to  do  so.  He  does  not  re- 
gard himself  as  one.  He  has  a  very  exalted  conception  of  knowledge,  which  to  him 
is  paramount  to  all,  and  he  says  with  Kant  that  it  is  absolutely  incalculable  how  far 
man  can  still  penetrate  into  the  secrets  of  nature.  What  Mr.  Carneri,  with  Kant, 
does  not  regard  as  belonging  in  the  sphere  of  human  knowledge,  because  surpassing 
experience,  is  the  "  thing-in-itself  "  in  all  its  protean  aspects.  True,  he  does  not 
use  the  term  "  thing-in-itself,"  and  regards  it  as  unfortunate  that  Kant  brought  the 
term  into  circulation,  because  it  can  be,  and  is,  very  easily  understood,  for  example 
by  Schopenhauer,  as  something  which  has  a  peculiar  essence  of  its  own.  Mr.  Car- 
neri admits  that  if  he  used  the  expression  in  this  sense  one  would  have  every  reason 
for  charging  him  with  dualism.  But  Kant  did  not  understand  the  expression  in 
this  sense,  and  even  characterised  this  idea  of  it  as  a  bugbear  of  the  intellect. 
Things,  Mr.  Carneri  maintains,  are  simply  complexes  of  sensations.  What  he  calls 
the  "  in-itself-existence"  of  things  is  that  which  the  things  would  be  if  we  con- 
ceived them  severed  from  our  sensations.  But  of  what  this  is  we  can  acquire  no 
knowledge  since  it  transcends  all  possible  experience,  in  so  far  as  our  experience 
and  with  it  our  knowledge  in  the  last  instance  leads  us  back  to  our  sense-activity  as 
to  our  own  sensation.  With  Kant,  Mr.  Carneri  invests  things  with  materiality  as  a 
fundamental  attribute,  while  he  also  classes  himself  (his  feeling)  among  things.  He 


632 


THE  MONIST. 


ascribes  to  matter  those  qualities  which  all  things  have  in  common  and  which  he 
feels  they  have.  He  must  assume  matter,  since  otherwise  all  things,  including  him- 
self, would  be  naught,  or  at  best  mere  ideas,  such  as  Berkeley  constructed.  What 
he  knows  of  matter,  he  knows  only  through  his  sensation,  and  for  that  very  reason 
he  cannot  know  what  matter  in  itself  can  be,  that  is,  matter  severed  from  sensation. 
If  this  is  a  subject  of  knowledge — which  he  cannot  grant,  then,  and  then  only,  is  he 
an  agnostic. 

With  respect  to  the  religious  outcome  of  his  doctrines,  we  may  say  that  though 
Mr.  Carneri  recognises  the  Religion  of  Science  as  a  product  of  perfect  correctness 
of  thought,  and  as  the  only  religion  that  does  not  conflict  with  the  present  state  of 
our  knowledge,  yet  he  thinks  that  for  that  very  reason  the  religious  element  in  it  is  a 
so  exalted  one  that  the  religious  minds  who  are  satisfied  with  it  must  be  in  the 
highest  sense  of  the  word  elite  human  beings.  Mr.  Carneri  admits  the  statement 
that  man  consists  of  his  ideas,  his  influences,  and  his  aspirations.  It  depends,  there- 
fore, upon  the  idea  of  immortality  which  one  possesses  whether  one  can  be  satisfied 
with  the  idea  of  immortality  of  this  religion.  Personally,  Mr.  Carneri  has  no  need 
of  religion  or  immortality  whatsoever,  and  is  so  reconciled  to  the  belief  that  his 
personality  will  wholly  cease  with  death  that  it  is  to  him  a  blissful  certainty.  It  is 
a  source  of  real  delight  to  him,  he  says,  and  an  encouragement  to  good  deeds,  to  be 
able  to  think  that  some  of  his  achievements  will  continue  after  his  death  to  have  a 
beneficent  influence  on  others,  in  no  matter  how  insignificant  a  way.  But  his  per- 
sonality, which  will  then  no  longer  exist,  will  have  as  little  share  of  these  as  he 
should  have,  in  his  present  life,  of  freedom  or  property,  if  he  should  be  robbed  of 
these  and  others  should  enjoy  them  in  his  place. 

These  remarks  will  indicate  the  general  drift  of  Mr.  Carneri's  doctrines.      //. 

INTRODUCTION  A  LA  PSYCHOLOGIE  EXPERIMENTALE.     By  Alfred  Bine  .     Paris:  Felix 

Alcan.     1894.     Pp.,  146.     Price,  fr.  2.50. 

There  has  long  been  a  lack  in  English  of  a  practical  treatise  of  experimental 
psychology,  and  although  we  notice  that  two  are  in  preparation — one  from  the  pen 
of  Professor  Cattell, — the  student,  until  the  appearance  of  these,  may  be  referred 
to  the  present  easily-read  French  work  of  M.  Binet  as  the  best  accessible  manual 
of  the  subject.  The  volume  is  a  collaboration  in  a  certain  measure,  parts  of  it 
having  been  written  by  M.  Phillippe,  M.  Courtier,  and  M.  Victor  Henri.  Its  de- 
scriptions refer  chiefly  to  the  psychological  laboratory  of  Paris,  which  is  attached 
to  the  Ecole  des  Hautes-Etudes,  and  to  the  psychological  laboratories  of  Germany. 
M.  Binet  does  not  profess  to  know  much  about  the  organisation  of  the  numerous 
laboratories  of  America,  but  his  ignorance  does  not  diminish  the  worth  of  his  in- 
structions, as  the  methods  of  this  study  must  be  essentially  the  same  in  all  parts  of 
the  world.  M.  Binet  mentions  the  existence  of  psychological  laboratories  at  two 
American  cities,  Medissona  and  Chompen,*  of  which  we  have  never  heard.  Chapter 

1  Probably  Madison,  Wis.,  and  Champaign,  111. 


BOOK   REVIEWS.  633 

I  is  devoted  to  the  laboratories  of  psychology  ;  Chapter  II  treats  of  Psychological 
Methods  ;  Chapter  III  of  Sensations,  Perceptions,  and  Attention  ;  Chapter  IV  of 
Movements  and  Will  ;  Chapter  V  of  Memory ;  Chapter  VI  of  Ideation  ;  Chapter 
VII  of  Psychometry  ;  Chapter  VIII  of  Methods  of  Observation  and  of  Interroga- 
tories. There  is  a  description  in  the  book  of  Hipp's  chronoscope,  which  even 
Kiilpe's  work  lacks,  as  also  of  the  common  methods  of  registration  and  of  the  other 
stereotyped  procedures.  "Experimental  psychology,"  M.  Binet  says,  "  is  autono- 
"  mous  and  has  been  definitively  organised  into  a  distinct  and  independent  science. 
"  It  is  independent  of  metaphysics,  but  it  does  not  exclude  all  metaphysical  results. 
"  It  supposes  no  particular  solution  of  the  great  problems  of  life  and  of  the  soul.  It 
"has  no  special  drift,  spiritualistic,  materialistic,  monistic,  or  otherwise;  it  is  a 
"natural  science,  and  nothing  more."  u. 

THE  CIVILISATION  OF  CHRISTENDOM  AND  OTHER  STUDIES.     By  Bernard  Bosanquet. 

London  :   Swan  Sonnenschein  &  Co.      1893.     Pp.,  383.     Price,  $1.50. 
The  Ethical  Library,  of  which  this  book  is  the  first  number  "is  not,"  its  editor 
says,  "  a  new  '  Science  Series.'  It  will  not  contain  books  on  moral  science  properly 

.v,  called.     The  chief  results  of  the  modern  study  of  mind  and  morals  will  for  the 
-  •  f'^H'  • 

r  ?n  one  volum-unitf!  w^tnout  scientific  demonstration.  The  guarantee  to  the  public 
that  the  i/rju.  ., Jying  prracip.es  are  not  mere  assumption  or  isolated  aperfus  must  be 
the  names  of  the  WirJtp^rs.  -her^v  gives,  who,  it  is  hoped,  will  be  recognised  as  special- 
ists in  particular  departments  of  mental  and  moral  philosophy."  Other  volumes  in 
this  library  have  been  promised  by  Prof.  Henry  Sidgwick,  Mr.  Leslie  Stephen,  Mr. 
D.  G.  Ritchie,  Mrs.  Sophie  Bryant,  and  the  Editor,  J.  H.  Muirhead.  Mr.  Bosan- 
quet's  book  is  a  collection  of  addresses  delivered  by  him  before  various  English  so- 
cieties, and  'of  essays  recently  published  in  ethical  periodicals.  Their  titles  are  as 
follows  :  "  Future  of  Religious  Observance  "  ;  "Some  Thoughts  on  the  Transition 
from  Paganism  to  Christianity  "  ;  "  The  Civilisation  of  Christendom  "  ;  "  Old  Prob- 
lems under  New  Names  ";  "Are  we  Agnostics?  ";  "  The  Communication  of  Moral 
Ideas  as  a  Function  of  an  Ethical  Society";  "Right  and  Wrong  in  Feeling"; 
"Training  in  Enjoyment";  "Luxury  and  Refinement  ";  "  The  Antithesis  Between 
Individualism  and  Socialism  Philosophically  Considered  ";  "Liberty  and  Legisla- 
tion." Our  readers  will  derive  pleasure  and  profit  from  the  perusal  of  these  essays 
of  Mr.  Bosanquet,  who  has  here  expressed  his  opinions  upon  some  important  ethical 
and  social  topics  with  much  grace  and  art.  //. 

DIE  PHILOSOPHIE  DES  NICOLAUS  MALEBRANCHE.     By  Dr.  Mario  Novaro.   Berlin  : 

Mayer  &  Muller.      1893. 

This  little  book  (107  pages)  is  a  clear  and  enthusiastic  presentation  of  the  phi- 
losophy of  Malebranche,  a  subject  on  which  Dr.  Novaro  has  also  written  in  Italian. 
Bruno,  not  Bacon,  nor  Descartes,  claims  Dr.  Novaro,  is  the  father  of  modern  phi- 
losophy ;  it  is  he  who  pointed  out  the  true  paths  which  modern  philosophy,  and  in 


634  THE    MONIST. 

fact  all  philosophy,  must  follow.  But  Bruno's  position  is  an  ideal  one.  He  found 
no  worthy  son,  either  at  home  or  abroad.  Bacon  exercised  little  influence  either 
on  continental  or  on  English  philosophy,  and  his  position  in  the  world  of  thought 
is  much  overestimated.  Neither  Locke,  Berkeley,  nor  Hume,  are  followers  of  Ba- 
con, but  rather  of  Hobbes,  Descartes,  and  Malebranche.  The  greatest  influence  on 
Continental  and  English  philosophy  before  Kant  was  unquestionably  exercised  by 
Descartes  and  Malebranche.  But  Descartes  never  fully  elaborated  or  systematised 
his  philosophy.  It  was  left  to  Malebranche  to  construct  from  the  Cartesian  frag- 
ments a  universal  and  harmonious  system.  Before  Kant  there  are  but  three  sys- 
tems of  modern  philosophy  :  that  of  Hobbes,  that  of  Bruno  and  Spinoza,  and  that 
of  Malebranche. 

This  is  Dr.  Novaro's  view  of  the  trend  of  modern  philosophy.  The  book  is 
written  in  a  very  pleasant  style  ;  its  author  shows  a  wide  acquaintance  with  the  phil- 
osophical literature  of  all  European  nations  and  puts  both  the  character  and  thought 
of  Malebranche  in  a  very  clear  light,  correcting  many  errors  which  are  current  with 
respect  to  this  philosopher,  and  not  omitting  to  present  just  criticisms  of  his  views. 
The  philosophy  of  Malebranche,  says  Dr.  Novaro,  is  a  magnificent  and  consistent 
system  if  we  admit  its  fundamental  premise — the  identity  of  thought  and  being. 
But  this  premise  is  contested.  ---  jood  deeds,  to 

rTr       \          de~  ' 

STOICS  AND  SAINTS.  Lectures  on  the  Later  Heathen  Moralists,  a-nd  on  some  of  the 
Aspects  of  the  Life  of  the  Medieval  Church.  By  the  late  James  Baldwin 
Broivn,  B.  A  ,  Minister  of  Brixton  Independent  Church.  London  and  New 
York  :  Macmillan  &  Co.  1893.  Pp.  296.  Price,  $2.50. 

The  subjects  of  the  ten  lectures  which  constitute  this  volume  are  as  follows  : 
"The  Later  Age  of  Greek  Philosophy  and  the  Epicurean  and  Stoic  Schools "; 
"  Epictetus  and  the  Last  Effort  of  the  Heathen  Philosophy";  "  Marcus  Aurelius, 
and  the  Approximation  of  the  Heathen  to  the  Christian  Schools";  "Why  Could 
not  the  Stoic  Regenerate  Society?";  "The  Monastic  System,  and  Its  Relation  to 
the  Life  of  the  Church";  "St.  Bernard,  the  Monastic  Saint";  "St.  Thomas  of 
Canterbury, — the  Saint  as  Ecclesiastical  Statesman";  "St.  Francis  of  Assisi,  and 
the  Rise  of  the  Mendicant  Orders"  ;  "St.  Louis  of  France, — the  Saint  in  Secular 
Life";  "John  Wyclif,  and  the  Dawn  of  the  Reformation."  The  lectures  were 
delivered  at  various  times  and  at  various  places  during  the  later  years  of  Mr.  Bald- 
win Brown's  life,  and  are  now  published  at  the  desire  of  many  who  heard  them, 
with  but  slight  alteration.  They  make  no  pretensions  to  systematic  historical  expo- 
sition, fj,, 

WISSEN  UND  GLAUBEN.     By  Dr.  C.  Guttler.     Munich  :  C.  H.  Beck.      1893. 

The  point  of  view  of  this  work  is  the  point  of  view  of  faith.  The  author,  a 
Privatdocent  in  the  University  of  Munich,  characterises  his  position  as  comparative 
eirenics.  With  regard  to  knowledge,  in  so  far  as  it  is  human  scientific  knowledge, 


BOOK    REVIEWS.  635 

Dr.  Guttler  seems  to  be  slightly  agnostic.  Also,  he  believes  that  the  biblical 
account  of  creation  is  reconcilable  in  its  main  outlines  with  the  Darwinian  theory 
of  evolution,  and  his  idea  of  immortality,  although  it  rejects  the  notion  of  heaven 
as  an  idealistic  earth  is  still  that  of  a  "  linear  continuation  of  personality,"  in  which 
the  animal  soul  does  not  share,  because  the  animal  does  not  possess  ideals,  does  not 
exhibit  mental  progress  or  uninterrupted  causal  connexion  of  mind,  in  other  words, 
does  not  possess  civilisation.  This  argument  seems  to  support  the  idea  of  immortal- 
ity in  the  race  only.  But  the  author  does  not  stop  at  his  philosophical  conclusion 
but  continues  and  claims  with  St.  John,  xi,  25,  "I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life," 
and  so  forth. 


ZUR  VERJUNGUNG  DER  PHILOSOPHIE.  Psychologisch-kritische  Untersuchungen  auf 
dem  Gebiet  des  menschlichen  Wissens.  By  /.  Segall-Socoliu.  Erste  Reihe  : 
Das  Wissen  vom  spezifisch  Menschlichen.  Berlin  :  Carl  Duncker.  1893. 
So  far  as  we  can  infer  from  a  production  which  lacks  a  preface  and  introduc- 
tion, this  book  is  the  Prolegomena  of  the  first  of  a  series  of  philosophical  works, 
planned  to  appear  in  three  groups.  The  first  series  or  group  treats  of  the  knowledge 
"of  the  specifically  human";  it  will  be  concluded  by  a  volume,  perhaps  by  more 
than  one  volume,  on  the  "  Psychology  of  Philosophising,"  which  is  the  relative  final 
aim  of  the  past  evolution  of  the  world  :  Tantuni  scinms,  quantum  sunius  ;  qiiantuni 
sci/nus,  tantum  sumus.  The  second  series  will  treat  of  the  psychology  of  social  de- 
velopment ;  the  third,  of  our  knowledge  of  "the  universally  physical."  The  Pro- 
legomena are  a  collection  of  critical  remarks  on  the  chief  questions  of  philosophy. 
Both  in  the  psychical  and  physical  domain  the  author  arrives  at  a  so-called  principle 
of  "  unity  in  diversity,"  or  rather  of  "  unity  in  separateness  ";  mother  and  child  are 
one,  sun  and  earth  are  one,  earth  and  moon  are  one  ;  unity  in  separateness  is  the 
basis  of  all  action  ;  this  is  given  off  from,  or  emanates  from,  that  :  the  aim  and  pur- 
pose, therefore,  of  action  in  life  is  that  this  unity  shall  be  reattained  ;  things  and 
action  have  thus  an  affinity  with  their  origin,  which  affinity  bears  within  it  an  aim,  — 
the  aim  of  re-unification.  Those  who  read  this  work  will  at  least  be  stimulated  to 
hard  thought  on  the  subjects  of  which  it  treats  ;  but  the  form  in  which  its  ideas  are 
put  is  a  rigid  and  not  inviting  one.  The  author  is  a  Roumanian.  ///cp/c. 

THE  ETHICS  OF   SERVICE.     By  Frank  Sewalt,  M.  A.     London  :   James  Speirs,  36 

Bloomsbury  Street.      1888.      Pp.  32. 

This  clearly  written  and  elegantly  got  up  pamphlet  was  read  as  an  essay  before 
the  Ruskin  "Society  of  the  Rose"  in  Glasgow,  1888.  The  power  of  the  universe 
which  compels  conformity  with  natural  law  on  penalty  of  misery  and  death,  variously 
termed  God,  Nature,  etc.,  looked  at  in  the  universal  aspect  of  a  law  of  good,  is  de- 
fined by  the  author  as  the  law  of  Use,  the  divine  end  of  the  universe  put  into  effect, 
the  law  of  Service,  but  of  mutual  service  and  not  of  the  service  of  self.  Ethics  is 
the  development  of  the  will  into  harmony  with  the  moral  environment  which  is  an 


636  THE  MONIST. 

actual  objective  force  operating  in  the  universe  by  virtue  of  a  Creator  and  this  Cre- 
ator's purpose,  which  is  the  living  for  other  than  self,  and  hence  for  mutual  service. 
The  moral  law  of  use  or  service  is  thus  of  divine  origin.  The  theory  of  the  author 
is  that  of  nearly  all  logical  religions  and  philosophies,  only  expressed  under  different 
similes  and  with  especial  reference  to  Ruskin.  ///c^/c. 

RELIGION.  By  G.  de  Molinari.  Translated  from  the  second  (enlarged)  edition, 
with  the  author's  sanction,  by  Walter  K.  Firminger.  London  :  Swan  Son- 
nenschein  &  Co.  New  York  :  Macmillan  &  Co.  1894.  Price  2s.  6d.  Pp.  195. 
Under  the  attractive  title  of  the  "Philosophy  at  Home  Series"  the  Messrs. 
Swan  Sonnenschein  &  Co.  have  recently  published  some  essays  of  Schopenhauer's, 
Lotze's  "  Outlines  of  the  Philosophy  of  Religion,"  E.  B.  Bax's  "  The  Problem  of 
Reality,"  Mr.  Salter's  "First  Steps  in  Philosophy,"  and  A.  Lillie's  "  The  Influence 
of  Buddhism  on  Primitive  Christianity."  The  last  number  of  the  series  is  the  pres- 
ent volume  of  G.  de  Molinari,  who  is  editor-in-chief  of  the  Journal  des  Economistes, 
and  is  well  known  for  his  studies  of  economics.  This  book  is  substantially  '  '  a  plea 
in  favor  of  the  independence  and  liberty  of  creeds."  M.  Molinari,  believing  that 
moral  forces  are  the  necessary  conditions  of  the  prosperity  and  existence  of  nations, 
thinks  that  religious  culture  should  be  freed  from  material  obstacles  of  all  kinds, 
especially  state-conferred  privileges  and  subsidies.  The  point  of  view  of  the  work 
is  mainly  economical  and  applies  more  to  the  state  of  things  in  Europe,  where  Es- 
tablished Churches  exist,  than  to  America. 


FRIEDRICH  HEINRICH  JACOBI,  A  STUDY  IN  THE  ORIGIN  OF  GERMAN  REALISM.  By 
Norman  Wilde,  Ph.  D.  Department  of  Philosophy  and  Education,  Colum- 
bia College,  New  York.  May,  1894.  Pp.,  77.  Price,  60  cents. 
Mr.  Wilde's  little  book  is  welcome,  as  few  studies  of  Jacobi  exist  in  English. 
Mr.  Wilde  finds,  that  although  the  influence  which  Jacobi  indirectly  exercised  over 
Fries,  Schleiermacher,  and  Beneke  was  great,  yet  it  is  rather  in  the  impulse  which 
he  gave  to  the  study  of  psychology  that  his  lasting  worth  must  be  recognised.  '  '  It 
"is  Jacobi's  merit  to  have  recalled  philosophy  to  the  study  of  the  inner  life.  By 
"  insisting  on  the  value  of  primary  beliefs  as  the  ultimate  criteria  of  truth,  he  makes 
'  '  necessary  the  minute  study  of  these  facts,  and  the  consequent  analysis  of  con- 
"  sciousness.  "  The  pamphlet  is  the  first  of  the  "Columbia  College  Contributions 
to  Philosophy,  Psychology,  and  Education,"  which  are  to  appear  under  the  editor- 
ship of  Professors  Butler  and  Cattell  and  Doctors  Hyslop  and  Farrand.  The  series 
will  contain  important  dissertations  submitted  for  the  attainment  of  the  degree  of 
Doctor  of  Philosophy,  technical  studies  by  the  professors  and  instructors,  and  re- 
prints of  contributions  made  by  Columbia  men  to  other  journals.  The  series  de- 
serves the  consideration  and  support  of  philosophical  specialists.  /LI. 


BOOK  REVIEWS.  637 


DISCUSSIONS. 

To  the  Editor  of  The  Monist: 

In  the  October  number  of  The  Monist,  in  an  article  on  ' '  Heredity  versus  Evo- 
lution," by  Mr.  Theodore  Oilman,  there  occur  the  following  sentences  : 

"  Ribot  defines  its  meaning  [that  is,  of  heredity]  as  '  that  biological  law  by 
"  which  all  beings  endowed  with  life  tend  to  repeat  themselves  in  their  descendants. 
"It  is  for  the  species,  what  personal  identity  is  for  the  individual.'  Herbert  Spen- 
"cer,  carefully  following  Ribot,  defines  it  as  'the  law  that  each  plant  or  animal 
"  produces  others  of  a  like  kind  with  itself.'  " 

The  facts  are  that  the  definition  of  heredity  above  quoted  from  Mr.  Spencer 
occurs  in  the  first  volume  of  his  "  Principles  of  Biology,"  §  80,  published  in  1864. 
The  volume  of  M.  Ribot  quoted  from,  —  "L'Heredite" — was  not  published  until 
1873.  Obviously,  therefore,  if  there  is  any  indebtedness  shown,  it  cannot  be  due 
to  the  careful  "following"  of  Ribot  by  Mr.  Spencer. 

I  respectfully  send  you  this  note  for  the  next  number  of  The  Monist  in  the  in- 
terest of  the  commendable  exactness  referred  to  by  Mr.  Gilman  in  the  note  printed 
with  his  article. 

JAMES  A.  SKILTON. 
Corresponding  Secretary  Brooklyn  Ethical  Association. 


To  the  Rditor  of  The  Monist  : 

Mr.  James  A.  Skilton,  Corresponding  Secretary  of  the  Brooklyn  Ethical  Asso- 
ciation, calls  attention  to  a  mistake  in  my  article  on  "  Heredity  versus  Evolution," 
in  The  Monist  of  October,  1893,  where  I  say  that  Herbert  Spencer  carefully  follows 
Ribot  in  his  definition  of  heredity,  whereas  Ribot  wrote  after  and  quoted  from 
Spencer. 

I  had  in  mind  the  derivation  of  the  word  from  the  French.  My  complaint  was 
that  Spencer  should  have  been  the  first  to  transfer  into  the  English  language  an 
important  word  from  the  French,  where  it  had  been  used  since  the  eleventh  century, 
with  no  comment  or  explanation,  and  with  a  tacit  assumption  of  its  acceptance. 
Since  he  is  silent  on  the  subject  of  its  derivation,  he  leaves  it  to  others  to  speculate 
regarding  it. 

That  Spencer  borrowed  the  word  from  the  French  must  be  accepted  as  certain. 
That  it  came  from  Lucas  (1847)  would  appear  equally  so,  both  because  he  was  the 
first  writer  on  this  special  subject,  and  from  his  definition  "  natural  heredity,  in  the 
"spirit  of  our  definition,  embraces  the  propagation  of  the  forms  and  elements  of 
"the  existence  of  living  beings."  This  is  elaborated  in  numerous  other  passages 
throughout  his  work. 

We  may  make  the  same  excuse  for  Mr.  Spencer  that  Professor  Weismann  does 
on  page  53,  Vol.  II,  of  his  "Essays  on  Heredity,"  where  he  says  :  "This  hypoth- 
"  esis  must  have  been  forgotten  later  on,  or  Herbert  Spencer  would  never  have 
"  enunciated  it  and  supported  it  without  reference  to  his  predecessors."  There  is  a 
poetic  justice  in  the  fact  that  the  word  heredity,  which  he  introduced  in  this  sur- 
reptitious manner,  should  prove  a  petard,  and  develop  such  explosive  qualities  in 
connexion  with  the  corner-stone- of  his  entire  system. 

THEODORE  GILMAN. 


PERIODICALS. 

THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  REVIEW.     VOL.  I.     NO.  3. 

FREEDOM  AND  PSYCHO-GENESIS.  By  Alexander  T.  Ormoncf.—TuE  CASE  OF 
JOHN  BUNYAN  (III).  By  Josiah  Royce. — A  STUDY  OF  FEAR  AS  PRIMITIVE 
EMOTION.  By  Hiram  M.  Stanley. — EXPERIMENTS  IN  SPACE  PERCEPTION  (I). 
By  James  //.  Hyslop. — PERSONALITY-SUGGESTION.  By  J.  Mark  Baldwin. — 
SHORTER  CONTRIBUTIONS,  DISCUSSION,  ETC. — (New  York  and  London: 
Macmillan  &  Co.) 

The  book  notices  and  resumes  of  tedhnical  articles  in  The  Psychological  Review 
are  good  and  discriminate.  Professor  Ormond's  article  is  quite  forcible  :  freedom 
is  teleologically  construed,  but  freedom  and  self-activity  are  identified.  The  result 
of  Professor  Stanley's  investigation  is,  "that  fear,  as  indeed  every  emotion,  does 
not  consist  of  pain  or  cognition- revivals  in  any  form,  but  is  a  feeling  reaction  from 
the  representation  of  the  feeling  potency  of  the  object."  Dr.  Hyslop's  experiments 
are  not  yet  concluded. 

THE  PHILOSOPHICAL  REVIEW.     Vol.  III.     Nos.  2  and  3. 

SOME  ANOMALIES  IN  LOGIC.  By  Dr.  James  H.  Hyslop. — THE  THEISTIC  ARGU- 
MENT OF  SAINT  THOMAS.  By  Brother  Chrysostom. — GREEN  AND  His  CRITICS. 
By  Prof.  H.  Haldar. — GERMAN  KANTIAN  BIBLIOGRAPHY.  By  Dr.  Erich 
Adickes. 

THE  TEST  OF  BELIEF.  By  Prof.  J.  P.  Gordy. — ARE  WE  "CONSCIOUS  AUTO- 
MATA"? By  Prof.  James  Seth. — KANT'S  RELATION  TO  UTILITARIANISM.  By 
Norman  Wilde. — GERMAN  KANTIAN  BIBLIOGRAPHY.  By  Dr.  Erich  Adickes. 
DISCUSSION  :  THE  EGO  AS  CAUSE.  By  Prof.  John  Dewey. — BOOK  REVIEWS. 
(Boston,  New  York,  Chicago  :  Ginn  &  Co.) 

MIND.     NEW  SERIES,  No.  10. 

ON  THE  NATURE  OF  ESTHETIC  EMOTION.  By  Bernard  Bosanquet. — FREEDOM, 
RESPONSIBILITY,  AND  PUNISHMENT.  By  James  H.  Hyslop. — TIME  AND  THE 
HEGELIAN  DIALECTIC.  By  /.  Ellis  McTaggart. — REFLECTIVE  CONSCIOUS- 
NESS. By  Shadworth  H.  Hodgson. — DISCUSSIONS,  ETC.  (London  and  Edin- 
burgh :  Williams  &  Norgate.) 

INTERNATIONAL  JOURNAL  OF  ETHICS.     Vol.  IV.     No.   3. 

SOME  REMARKS  ON  PUNISHMENT.  By  F.  H.  Bradley. — OCCULT  COMPENSATION. 
By  Henry  C.  Lea. — THE  REALITY  OF  THE  GENERAL  WILL.  By  Bernard  Bo- 
sanquet.— THE  COMBINATION  OF  CAPITAL.  By  E.  Benj.  Andrews. — RELA- 


PERIODICALS.  639 

TION  OF  ETHICAL  CULTURE  TO  RELIGION  AND  PHILOSOPHY.  By  Frederic  Har- 
rison and  Felix  Adler. — "  ITALY  AND  THE  PAPACY."  By  Francis  Archb.  Sa- 
tolli. — DISCUSSIONS. — BOOK  REVIEWS.  (Philadelphia  :  International  Journal 
of  Ethics,  118  S.  Twelfth  Street.) 

Professor  Adler  attempts  to  reply  in  this  number  to  the  strictures  of  Mr.  Fred- 
eric Harrison  made  in  the  paper  which  was  read  from  the  great  Positivist  at  the 
Ethical  Congress  at  Chicago.  Mr.  Harrison's  position,  which  is  well  known,  is  that 
"the  religious  and  the  philosophical  problems  are  really  antecedent — must  come 
first  ;  these  problems  are  truly  the  basis  :  they  govern  and  determine  the  ethical 
problem  ";  while  Professor  Adler,  whose  position  is  also  well  known,  contends  that 
no  previous  agreement  with  respect  to  religion  and  philosophy  is  necessary  for  mem- 
bers of  the  ethical  societies  beyond  the  desire  to  increase  the  knowledge  of  the 
right,  and  that  on  the  simpler,  every-day  questions  of  morality  a  substantial  agree- 
ment has  been  reached  among  good  people  generally— statements  which  are  very 
doubtful. 

THE  JOURNAL  OF  SPECULATIVE  PHILOSOPHY.     Vol.  XXII.     No.4. 

BAUMGART'S  INTERPRETATION  OF  GOETHE'S  MARCHEN.      By  Isaac  N.  Judson. — 
THE  SECRET  OF  KANT.    By  Gordon  Clark. — MYSTIC  THEOLOGY  BY  DIONYSIUS 
AREOPAGITA.   By  Thomas  Davidson. — FRIENDSHIP.   By  Lenora  B.  Halsted. — 
ARISTOTLE'S  DOCTRINE  OF  REASON.     By  W.  T.  Harris. — A  GLIMPSE  INTO 
PLATO.    By  Florence  James  Williams. — KNOWLEDGE  AND  BELIEF  REGARDING 
IMMORTALITY.     By  W.  Lutoslawski.     (New  York  :  D.  Appleton  &  Co.) 
This  is  the  first  number  of  the  Journal  of  Speculative  Philosophy  which  has  ap- 
peared since  September,  1892. 

VIERTELJAHRSSCHRIFT  FUR  WISSENSCHAFTLICHE  PHILOSOPHIE. 

Vol.  XVIII.     No.  2. 

BEMERKUNGEN  ZUM  BEGRIFF  DBS  GEGENSTANDES  DER  PSYCHOLOGIE.  (First 
Article.)  By  R.  Avenarius. — GLAUBE  UNO  URTHEIL.  By  W.  Jerusalem. — 
EINIGES  ZUR  GRUNDLEGUNG  DER  SITTENLEHRE.  (Third  Article.  Concluded.) 
By/.  Petzoldt.  (Leipsic  :  O.  R.  Reisland.) 

PHILOSOPHISCHE  MONATSHEFTE.     Vol.  XXX.     Nos.  i  and  2. 

DIE  NATURLICHE  WELTANSicHT.  By  W.  Schtippe. —  THEORIE  DER  TYPEN- 
EINTHEILUNGEN.  By  B.  Erdmann. — IN  SACHEN  DER  TRIEBLEHRE.  By  J. 

Duboc. ElN  BISHER  NOCH  UNENTDECKTER  ZuSAMMENHANG  KANTS  MIT  ScHIL- 

LER.  By  A'.  Vorldnder. — RECENSIONEN.  (Berlin:  Georg  Reimer.) 
After  October  i,  the  Philosophische  Monatshefte,  then  ending  their  thirtieth 
year,  will  be  amalgamated  with  the  Archiv  fiir  GeschicJite  der  Philosophic,  to  form 
a  composite  magazine  that  will  treat  collectively  of  systematic  and  historical  phi- 
losophy, and  will  bear  the  title  of  Archiv  fiir  Philosophie.  The  Archiv  fiir  Ge- 
schichte  der  Philosophie  will  be  conducted  as  before  and  bear  the  same  name.  The 
Philosophische  Monatshefte,  which  will  cover  the  systematic  department,  will  have 
the  title  Archiv  fiir  systematische  Philosophie.  A  noteworthy  feature  of  this  branch 
of  the  new  magazine  will  be  the  annual  reports  of  the  philosophical  literature  of  all 
countries  written  in  the  languages  of  those  countries.  Also  contributions  in  Eng- 
lish, French,  and  Italian  will  be  received.  The  reports  will  be  furnished  by  Prof. 
Paul  Natorp  for  epistemology,  Prof.  Rudolph  Eucken  for  metaphysics,  Prof.  Benno 


640  THE  MONIST. 

Erdmann  for  psychology,  Prof.  Aloys  Riehl  for  logic,  Prof.  Friedrich  Jodl  for 
ethics,  Prof.  Ferdinand  Tonnies  for  sociology,  Prof.  Rudolf  Stammler  for  philoso- 
phy of  law,  Prof.  Theodor  Lipps  for  aesthetics,  Prof.  August  Baur  for  the  phi- 
losophy of  religion,  and  Prof.  Dr.  Theobald  Ziegler  for  pedagogics.  The  editors 
are  :  Hermann  Diels,  Wilhelm  Dilthey,  Benno  Erdmann,  Paul  Natorp,  Christoph 
Sigwart,  Ludwig  Stein,  and  Eduard  Zeller. 

ZEITSCHRIFT  FUR  PSYCHOLOGIE  UND  PHYSIOLOGIE  DER  SINNES- 
ORGANE.     Vol.  VII.     Nos.  i. 

FUNKTION     UND     FUNKTIONSENTWICKELUNG     DER     BOGENGANGE.       By     Karl    L. 

Schaefer. — DER  UMFANG  DES  GEHORS  IN  DEN  VERSCHIEDENEN  LEBENSJAHREN. 
By  Dr.  H.  Zwaardeinaker. — STUDIE  ZUR  ERKLARUNG  GEWISSER  SCHEINBE- 
WEGUNGEN.  By  Dr.  Julius  Hoppe. — LITTERATURBERICHT.  (Hamburg  and 
Leipsic  :  Leopold  Voss.) 

ZEITSCHRIFT  FUR   PHILOSOPHIE  UND  PHILOSOPHISCHE  KRITIK 

Vol.  CIV.     No.  i. 
UEBER  DIE  LETZTEN  FRAGEN  DER  ERKENNTNISTHEORIE  UND  DEN  GEGENSATZ 

DES  TRANSCENDENTALEN  IDEALISMUS  UND  RfiALISMUS.       (Second  Article.)     By 

Dr.  Edni.  Koenig. — DIE  PHILOSOPHIE  IN  RUSSLAND.  By  Jakob  Kolubo%vsky. 
— JAHRESBERICHT  UBER  ERSCHEINUNGEN  DER  ANGLO-AMERIKANISCHEN  LIT- 
TERATUR  AUS  DER  ZEIT  VON  i8gi-c892.  By  Friedrich  Jodl. — RECENSIONEN. 
(Leipsic:  C.  E.  M.  Pfeffer.) 

REVUE  PHILOSOPHIQUE.     Vol.  XIX.     Nos.  3,  4,  and  5. 

RECHERCHES  SUR  LES  RAPPORTS  DE  LA  SENSIBILITE  ET  DE  L'EMOTION.     By  P. 
Sollier. — LA  SANCTION    MORALE.     By  F.    Paulhan. — DEUX    NOUVEAUX    HIS- 
TORIENS  DE  DESCARTES.     By  F.  Bouillier. 
L'ANCIENNE  ET  LES  NOUVELLES  GEOMETRIES.     II.  LES  NOUVELLES  GEOMETRIES 

ONT  LEUR  POINT  D'ATTACHE  DANS  LA  GEOMETRIE  EUCLIDIENNE.  By  J.  Delbccuf. 
— LE  PROBLEMS  DU  MONISME  DANS  LA  PHILOSOPHIE  DU  TEMPS  PRESENT.  By 

E.  lie  Roberly. — LA  SANCTION  MORALE.      (Concluded.)     By  /".  Paul/inn. 
LES  REGLES  DE  LA  METHODE  SOCIOLOGIQUE.      (First  Article. )     ByDurkheim. — 

LE  SENTIMENT  ET  L*ANALYSE.       By  Rauk. SUR  DIVERSES  ACCEPTIONS  DU  MOT 

LOI  DANS  LES  SCIENCES  ET  EN  METAPHYSIQUE.       By  L.    Weber. — DESCARTES  ET 

LES  DOCTRINES  CONTEMPORAINES  By  A.  Fouillee.  (Paris:  Felix  Alcan.) 
In  the  March  number,  M.  Paulhan  gives  us  an  interesting  review  of  M.  Du- 
rand's  work  Le  merveilleux  scientifique,  and  M.  Bouillier  subjects  to  a  critical  ex- 
amination the  views  of  two  new  historians  of  Descartes,  M.  Brunetiere  and  M. 
Fouillee.  In  the  April  number  M.  Delboeuf  continues  the  interesting  series  on  the 
New  and  Old  Geometries.  His  essays  are  deserving  of  special  attention  at  the  hands 
of  philosophers. 

REVUE  DE  METAPHYSIQUE  ET  DE  MORALE.     Vol.  II.     No.  2 

LA  DIVISIBILITY  DANS  LA  GRANDEUR  :    GRANDEUR  ET  NOMBRE.     By  /'.   Evellin. 

LA  VALEUR  POSITIVE  DE  LA  PSYCHOLOGIE.  By  G.  Remade. — DEUXIEME  DIA- 
LOGUE PHILOSOPHIQUE  ENTRE  EUDOXE  ET  ARISTE.  By  Criton. DISCUSSIONS. 

(Paris  :  Librairie  Hachette  &  Co. ) 


APPENDIX  TO   "THE  MONIST,"  VOL.  4,  NO.  3. 


THE 


DAWN  OF  A  NEW  RELIGIOUS  ERA 


DR.  PAUL  CARUS 


CHICAGO 
THE  OPEN  COURT  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 


[This  article,  written  immediately  upon  the  close  of  the  Parliament  of 
Religions  in  September  '93,  at  the  solicitation  of  Mr.  Walter  H.  Page,  editor 
of  The  Forum,  appeared  in  the  November  number  of  that  magazine.  It  is 
here  republished  with  the  courteous  permission  of  the  Forum  Publishing 
Company  as  representing  the  editorial  views  of  The  Mom'st.] 


THE    DAWN    OF   A   NEW   RELIGIOUS 
ERA. 

r  I  AHE  Parliament  of  Religions,  which  sat  in  Chicago 
JL  from  September  n  to  September  27,  was  a  great 
surprise  to  the  world.  When  the  men  who  inaugurated 
it  invited  representatives  of  all  the  great  religions  of 
the  earth  to  meet  in  conference,  their  plan  was  looked 
upon  with  misgiving,  if  not  with  ridicule.  The  feasi- 
bility and  the  advisability  of  their  undertaking  were 
doubted.  The  greatest  and  most  powerful  churches, 
it  was  said,  would  not  be  represented.  The  Vatican, 
for  instance,  regards  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  as 
the  only  soul-saving  power,  with  exclusive  authority 
to  loose  or  bind.  To  allow  a  comparison  between  it 
and  other  churches  on  a  footing  of  equality,  to  appeal 
to  reason,  to  provoke  and  favor  such  an  appeal,  or  to 
submit  to  a  decision  after  argument,  would  be  tanta- 
mount to  the  recognition  of  reason,  or  logic,  or  science, 
as  a  higher  and  the  highest  test  of  truth.  Like  reasons, 
it  was  thought,  would  more  or  less  influence  other  de- 
nominations, for  almost  all  of  them  claim  to  be  based 
upon  a  special  divine  revelation  which  is  above  argu- 
ment, so  as  to  render  the  mere  doubt  of  it  sin. 

In  spite  of  all  these  doubts  and  fears,  the  Parlia- 
ment of  Religions  was  convened,  and  it  proved  an  ex- 


2  THE  DAWN   OF  A  NEW  RELIGIOUS   ERA. 

traordinary  success.  The  work  grew  rapidly  under  the 
hands  of  its  promoters,  so  that  the  time  originally  al- 
loted  to  it  had  to  be  increased  until  it  extended  over 
seventeen  days.  Although  discussion  had  been  ex- 
cluded from  the  programme  so  as  to  avoid  friction,  it 
could  not  be  entirely  controlled.  Nevertheless  a  good 
spirit  presided  over  all  the  sessions,  so  that  criticism 
promoted  a  closer  agreement  and  united  men  of  differ- 
ent faiths  more  strongly  in  bonds  of  mutual  respect 
and  toleration.  The  multitudes  that  filled  the  halls  at 
the  closing  session  were  animated  with  a  feeling  that 
the  Parliament  had  not  lasted  long  enough,  that  a 
movement  had  been  inaugurated  which  was  as  yet  only 
a  beginning  that  needed  further  development,  and  that 
we  should  stay  and  continue  the  work,  until  the  mus- 
tard-seed we  were  planting  should  become  a  tree  under 
whose  branches  the  birds  of  the  heavens  might  find  a 
dwelling-place. 

The  idea  of  holding  a  parliament  of  religions  is  not 
new.  It  was  proposed  and  attempted  on  a  smaller 
basis  in  former  times  by  Asiatic  rulers.  It  has  been 
predicted  and  longed  for  by  men  of  different  races  and 
various  religions.  Of  European  authors  we  may  men- 
tion Volney  who  in  his  "Ruins"  describes  minutely 
how  ' '  men  of  every  race  and  every  region,  the  European 
in  his  short  coat,  the  Asiatic  in  his  flowing  robes,  the 
African  with  ebony  skin,  the  Chinese  dressed  in  silk, 
assemble  in  an  allotted  place  to  form  a  great  religious 
congress." 

It  is  certain  that  similar  ideas  have  stirred  the 
hearts  of  many.  The  Shinto  High  Priest  of  the  Japa- 
nese State  Church,  the  Rt.  Rev.  Reuchi  Shibata  in  one 
of  his  speeches  said  :  "  Fourteen  years  ago  I  expressed 
in  my  own  country  the  hope  that  there  would  be  a 


THE  DAWN  OF  A  NEW  RELIGIOUS   ERA.  3 

friendly  meeting  of  the  world's  religionists,  and  now  I 
realise  my  hope  with  great  joy  in  being  able  to  attend 
this  phenomenal  congress." 

It  is  but  natural  that  this  sentiment  should  prevail 
in  Japan  where  three  religions,  which  closely  consid- 
ered are  by  no  means  compatible,  exist  peacefully  side 
by  side.  The  ancient  nature  worship  of  Shinto  was 
not  exterminated  when  the  doctrines  of  Confucius  were 
preached  and  accepted,  and  the  Buddhists  wage  no 
war  on  either.  Many  families  of  Japan  conform  to  the 
official  ceremonies  of  Shinto  ;  they  even  respect  its 
popular  superstitions,  and  have  their  children  taught 
the  precepts  of  the  great  Chinese  sage  as  set  forth  in 
the  book  of  rites  and  other  sacred  writings,  while  they 
themselves  seek  consolation  for  the  deeper  yearnings 
of  their  souls  in  the  wisdom  of  Buddha.  There  are 
for  these  three  religions  shrines  side  by  side  in  their 
homes  and  in  their  hearts. 

All  uncertainty  as  to  the  feasibility  of  the  gathering 
vanished  when  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  most  cor- 
dially accepted  the  invitation  to  take  part.  "We,  as 
the  mother  of  all  Christian  churches,"  said  Bishop 
Keane,  in  his  extemporaneous  and  unpublished  fare- 
well address,  "have  a  good  right  to  be  represented. 
Why  should  we  not  come?  "  And  nearly  all  the  other 
denominational  representatives  thought  as  he  did. 
Whether  or  not  it  was  consistent  with  traditional  ortho 
doxy,  they  came  none  the  less.  So  powerful  was  the 
desire  for  a  religious  union,  representatives  of  the 
broadest  as  well  as  of  the  narrowest  views  met  in  fra- 
ternal co-operation  on  the  same  platform.  You  could 
see  such  an  evangelist  as  Joseph  Cook  sitting  by  the 
side  of  liberal  clergymen,  such  as  Jenkin  Lloyd  Jones, 
of  Chicago,  and  E.  L.  Rexford,  of  Boston.  And  these 


4  THE  DAWN  OF  A  NEW  RELIGIOUS  ERA. 

Christians  again  exchanged  cordial  greetings  with  the 
pagan  Hindus  and  the  atheistic  Buddhists  ;  an  unpre- 
cedented spectacle  ! 

And  it  was  a  spectacle  in  the  literal  sense  of  the 
word.  In  accord  with  American  simplicity,  the  men 
of  this  country  appeared  in  their  every-day  attire  and 
our  European  guests  wisely  followed  their  example. 
Nevertheless,  the  sight  was  often  picturesque.  Car- 
dinal Gibbons,  when  he  delivered  the  prayer  at  the 
opening  of  the  first  public  session,  wore  his  official 
crimson  robes.  The  prelates  of  the  Greek  Church, 
foremost  among  them  the  Most  Rev.  Dionysios  Latas, 
Archbishop  of  Zante,  looked  very  venerable  in  their 
sombre  vestments  and  Greek  cylindrical  hats.  The 
Shinto  High  Priest  Shibata  was  dressed  in  a  flowing 
garment  of  white,  decorated  with  curious  emblems, 
and  on  his  head  was  a  strangely-shaped  cap  wrought 
apparently  of  black  jet,  from  the  top  of  which  nodded 
mysteriously  a  feather-like  ornament  of  unknown  sig- 
nificance. Pung  Quang  Yu,  a  tall  and  stout  man,  an 
adherent  of  Confucius,  and  the  authorised  representa- 
tive of  the  Celestial  Empire,  appeared  in  Chinese 
dress.  There  were  present  several  Buddhist  bishops 
of  Japan,  in  dress  which  varied  from  violet  to  black. 
The  turbaned  Hindu  monk,  Swami  Vivekananda,  in  a 
long,  orange  gown,  who,  as  we  were  informed,  lived  in 
voluntary  poverty  so  that  as  a  rule  he  did  not  know 
where  he  would  receive  his  next  day's  meal ;  Dharma- 
pala,  the  Ceylonese  Buddhist,  in  his  robe  of  white  ; — 
these  and  many  more  were  the  exceedingly  interesting 
men  who  appeared  upon  the  stage  and  spoke  their 
minds  freely  on  subjects  over  which  in  former  ages 
cruel  wars  were  waged.  Differences  not  only  of  reli- 
gious opinions  but  also  of  races  were  represented  in 


THE  DAWN  OF  A  NEW  RELIGIOUS  ERA.  5 

the  Congress.  Bishop  B.  W.  Arnet,  of  the  African 
Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  confessed  that  the  broth- 
erhood of  man  had  for  the  first  time  been  taken  seri- 
ously. When  introduced,  he  said,  "I  am  to  represent 
the  African,  and  have  been  invited  to  give  color  to  the 
Parliament  of  Religions."  Interrupted  by  a  storm  of 
merriment,  he  continued,  "  But  I  think  the  Parliament 
is  already  very  well  colored,  and  if  I  have  eyes,  I  think 
the  color  is  this  time  in  the  majority." 

The  Parliament  of  Religion  was,  I  repeat,  a  great 
spectacle  ;  but  it  was  more  than  that.  There  was  a 
purport  in  it.  It  powerfully  manifested  the  various  re- 
ligious yearnings  of  the  human  heart,  and  all  these 
yearnings  exhibited  a  longing  for  unity  and  mutual 
good  understanding.  How  greatly  they  mistake  who 
declare  that  mankind  is  drifting  toward  an  irreligious 
future  !  It  is  true  that  people  have  become  indifferent 
about  theological  subtleties,  but  they  still  remain  and 
will  remain  under  the  sway  of  religion;  and  the  churches 
are  becoming  more  truly  religious,  as  they  are  becom- 
ing less  sectarian. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  Christianity.  One  is  love 
and  charity;  it  wants  the  truth  brought  out  and  desires 
to  see  it  practically  applied  in  daily  life.  It  is  animated 
by  the  spirit  of  Jesus  and  tends  to  broaden  the  minds 
of  men.  The  other  is  pervaded  with  exclusiveness  and 
bigotry;  it  does  not  aspire  through  Christ  to  the  truth  ; 
but  takes  Christ,  as  tradition  has  shaped  his  life  and  doc- 
trines, to  be  the  truth  itself.  It  naturally  lacks  charity 
and  hinders  the  spiritual  growth  of  men.  The  latter 
kind  of  Christianity  has  always  been  looked  upon  as 
the  orthodox  and  the  only  true  Christianity.  It  has 
been  fortified  by  Bible  passages,  formulated  in  Qui- 
cunques,  indorsed  by  decisions  of  oecumenical  councils 


6  THE  DAWN  OF  A  NEW  RELIGIOUS  ERA. 

and  by  papal  bulls.  Tracts  privately  distributed  among 
the  visitors  to  the  Congress  contained  quotations  such 
as,  "Though  we  or  an  angel  from  heaven  preach  any 
other  Gospel  unto  you  than  that  we  have  preached 
unto  you,  let  him  be  accursed";  and  "He  that  be- 
lieveth  not  shall  be  condemned."  Without  using  the 
same  harsh  terms,  Saint  Peter  expressed  himself  not 
less  strongly,  in  a  speech  before  the  Jews  concerning 
Jesus  of  Nazareth,  saying  :  "  Neither  is  there  salvation 
in  any  other  :  for  there  is  none  other  name  under  the 
heaven  given  among  men  whereby  we  must  be  saved." 
There  were  a  few  voices  heard  at  the  Parliament  of 
Religions  which  breathed  this  narrow  and  so-called 
orthodox  Christianity,  but  they  could  hardly  be  re- 
garded as  characterising  the  spirit  of  the  whole  enter- 
prise. They  really  served  as  a  contrast  by  which  the 
tolerant  principles  of  our  Oriental  guests  shone  the 
more  brightly.  "The  Hindu  fanatic,"  said  Viveka- 
nanda,  "  burns  himself  on  the  pyre,  but  he  never  lights 
the  fagots  of  an  Inquisition";  and  we  were  told  that 
Buddha  said  to  his  disciples,  "  I  forbid  you  to  believe 
anything  simply  because  I  said  it."  Even  Moham- 
medanism, generally  supposed  to  be  the  most  authori- 
tative of  all  religions,  appeared  mild  and  rational  as 
explained  by  Mohammed  Alexander  Russell  Webb. 
Mr.  Webb  said  :  "The  day  of  blind  belief  has  passed 
away.  Intelligent  humanity  wants  a  reason  for  every 
belief,  and  I  say  that  that  spirit  is  commendable  and 
should  be  encouraged,  and  it  is  one  of  the  prominent 
features  of  the  spirit  of  Islam."  At  one  of  the  meetings 
a  prayer  was  offered  for  those  blind  heathen  who  at- 
tended the  Congress,  that  God  might  have  mercy  on 
them  and  open  their  eyes,  so  that  they  would  see  their 
own  errors  and  accept  the  truth  of  Christianity ;  but 


THE  DAWN  OF  A  NEW  RELIGIOUS   ERA.  7 

the  prayer,  made  in  the  spirit  of  the  old  bigoted  Chris- 
tianity which  believes  in  the  letter  and  loses  the  spirit, 
found  an  echo  neither  in  the  hearts  of  our  foreign 
guests  nor  among  the  men  who  had  convened  the  Con- 
gress nor  among  the  audience  who  listened  to  the 
prayer.  Far  from  being  converted,  the  heathen  dele- 
gates took  the  opportunity  of  denouncing  Christian 
missionaries  for  their  supercilious  attitude  and  for  mak- 
ing unessential  things  essential.  For  instance,  the  mis- 
sionaries, they  said,  demand  that  the  Hindus  abolish 
caste,  and  treat  the  refusal  to  eat  meat  as  a  pagan  pre- 
judice, so  that  in  the  Hindu  mind  "Christian"  has 
come  to  mean  "carnivorous."  One  of  the  delegates,  a 
Brahman  layman,  said:  "With  the  conqueror's  pride 
they  cannot  bring  themselves  down,  or  rather  cannot 
bring  themselves  up  to  practise  the  humility  which 
they  preach."  B.  B.  Nagarkar,  of  Bombay,  expressed 
himself  more  guardedly.  Said  he  : 

"Sad  will  be  the  day  for  India  when  Christian  missionaries 
cease  to  come  ;  for  we  have  much  to  learn  about  Christ  and  Chris- 
tian civilisation.  They  do  some  good  work.  But  if  converts  are 
the  measures  of  their  success,  we  .have  to  say  that  their  work  is  a 
failure.  Little  do  you  dream  that  your  money  is  expended  in 
spreading  abroad  nothing  but  Christian  dogmatism,  Christian  big- 
otry, Christian  pride,  and  Christian  exclusiveness.  I  entreat  you 
to  expend  one-tenth  only  of  your  vast  sacrifices  in  sending  out  to 
our  country  unsectarian,  broad  missionaries  who  will  devote  their 
energy  to  educating  our  men  and  women.  Educated  men  will  un- 
derstand Christ  better  than  those  whom  you  convert  to  the  narrow 
creed  of  some  cant  Christianity." 

The  severest  rebuke  came  from  the  lips  of  the  rep- 
resentative of  Jainism,  and  from  the  monk  Viveka- 
nanda.  The  latter  denounced  Christian  missionaries 
for  offering  stones  instead  of  bread.  They  build 
churches,  he  said,  and  preach  sectarian  creeds  which 


8  THE  DAWN  OF  A  NEW  RELIGIOUS  ERA. 

benefit  no  one.  They  despise  the  sacred  traditions  of 
the  Hindu,  the  profundity  of  which  they  are  unable  to 
fathom;  and,  he  added,  "What  shall  we  think  of  a 
religion  whose  missionaries  distribute  food  in  a  famine 
to  the  starving  people  on  the  condition  of  conversion?" 
These  were  hard  reproaches,  yet  they  were  accepted 
by  the  Christians  with  good  grace.*  The  Rev.  R.  G. 
Hume  of  India  said,  "  We  are  willing  to  have  our  Bud- 

*This  passage  was  much  commented  upon  in  various  newspapers  and  re- 
ligious journals,  and  it  appears  that  the  writer's  attitude  has  been  misunder- 
stood. 

That  several  hard  reproaches  "  were  accepted  by  the  Christians  with  good 
grace  "  is  not  a  slight,  not  a  rebuke,  but  a  praise.  It  is  very  doubtful  whether 
a  Mohammedan  or  any  other  but  a  Chi  istian  audience  would  have  been  so 
patient  as  to  listen  good-nature'dly  to  similar  censures.  Forbearance  is  always 
a  symptom  of  strength.  None  but  the  strong  can  afford  to  be  generous  and 
tolerant.  Compare  p.  18,  lines  13-18  of  this  article. 

Among  the  comments  that  came  to  our  notice  the  National  Baptist  of  No- 
vember 23  discusses  Vivekananda's  statement  under  the  capt:on,  ''A  False 
Accusation."  Dr.  S.  W.  Duncan  writes :  "I  hope  Bishop  Keane's  denuncia- 
tion was  honest  and  not  a  covert  fling  at  Protestants. ...  I  suspect  if  the  Hindu 
monk  had  told  the  whole  truth,  all  he  knew,  he  would  have  been  compelled  to 
mention  by  name  Roman  Catholics.  Dr.  Bunker  .has  recently  given  me  in- 
stances of  his  being  frustrated  in  his  work  by  Catholic  priests  preceding  him 
in  heathen  villages,  and  buying  up  the  chiefs,  giving  them  money  and  other 
considerations  of  weight  with  heathen,  for  their  acceptance  of  crucifixes  and 
Romish  rites  and  enrollment  as  Catholics.  I  have  made  inquiry,  and  there  is 
not  on  record  a  single  intimation  that  any  one  of  our  missionaries  has  ever 
thus  abused  his  holy  calling." 

We  have  a  good  opinion  of  Baptist  missions,  and  know  at  the  same  time 
that  Roman  Catholic  nvssionaries,  among  them  the  much-reviled  Jesuits,  have 
shown  an  admirable  devotion  to  the  cause  of  their  religion. 

Supposing  Vivekananda's  accusation  to  be  true  of  some  Christian  mis- 
sionaries, we  do  not  take  it  to  mean  a  wholesale  condemnation  of  all.  Nor  do 
we  wish  to  pour  cold  water  upon  the  missionary  zeal.  The  missionary  spirit 
is  the  index  of  the  spiritual  life  of  a  religion,  and  we  are  glad  to  see  it  in  Bud- 
dhists not  less  than  in  Christians.  But  we  are  sorry  that  the  broad  religious 
spirit  which  pervaded  the  Parliament  and  is  present  among  the  Unitarians 
and  other  liberal  institutions,  is  tco  weak  to  undertake  any  great  propaganda 
for  their  cause.  How  much  more  effective  would  Christian  missionaries  be  if 
they  taught  religion  instead  of  dogmas,  and  love  of  truth  instead  of  blind  faith. 

The  Louisville  Record  of  November  30  calls  Vivekananda's  statement  slan- 
der, and  adds  :  "  When  will  we  get  over  the  harm  done  by  the  World's  Parlia- 
ment of  Religions?"  This  reminds  us  of  the  parable  of  the  sower,  where 
Christ  says  :  "  Some  [seeds]  fell  upon  stony  ground." 


THE  DAWN  OF  A  NEW  RELIGIOUS  ERA.  Q 

dhistic  and  Brahman  friends  tell  us  how  we  can  do 
better.  Any  one  who  will  help  us  to  be  more  humble 
and  more  wise  will  do  us  good  and  we  will  thank  him 
whoever  he  be."  And  Bishop  Keane,  Rector  of  the 
Roman  Catholic  University  at  Washington,  was  not 
lacking  in  this  broad  religious  spirit.  "  I  indorse,"  said 
the  Bishop,  impressively,  "the  denunciation  hurled 
against  the  system  of  pretended  charity  that  offered 
food  to  the  hungry  Hindus  at  the  cost  of  their  con- 
science and  their  faith.  It  is  a  shame  and  disgrace  to 
all  who  call  themselves  Christians.  And  if  Vivekananda 
by  his  criticism  can  only  stir  us  and  sting  us  into  better 
teachings  and  better  doings  in  the  great  work  of  Christ, 
I  for  one  shall  be  profoundly  grateful  to  our  friend  the 
great  Hindu  monk." 

This  is  the  true  catholicity  of  the  religion  of  man- 
kind, and  coming  from  the  lips  of  a  Roman  Catholic 
bishop,  it  did  not  fail  to  find  a  joyous  and  powerful  re- 
sponse in  the  audience.  To  the  honor  of  our  Hindu 
friends  we  have  to  add  that  the  fairness  and  impartial 
love  of  justice  with  which  their  remarks  were  accepted 
by  a  Christian  audience,  as  well  as  by  their  Christian 
brethren  on  the  platform,  were  unhesitatingly  recog- 
nised. Said  one  of  them,  "The  tolerance,  the  kind- 
liness, nay,  the  patience  with  which  you  listen  to  the 
enumeration  of  your  faults,  this  sympathy  with  the 
wrong  done  to  heathendom  by  Christianity,  makes  me 
believe  that  we  have  all  advanced  and  are  advancing 
wonderfully." 

Heretofore,  the  broad  Christianity  has  always  been 
regarded  as  heretical ;  but  as  this  Parliament  proves, 
times  have  changed.  Judging  from  what  we  witnessed 
at  Chicago,  the  official  representatives  of  almost  all  re- 
ligions speak  a  new  language.  The  narrowness  of  past 


10  THE  DAWN  OF  A  NEW  RELIGIOUS  ERA. 

ages  is  now  felt  to  be  due  to  imperfect  views  of  the 
truth,  and  we  recognise  the  duty  to  pass  beyond  it  to 
a  higher  and  grander  conception.  There  are  still  rep- 
resentatives of  the  narrow  spirit  left,  but  their  position 
becomes  more  and  more  untenable.  What  does  it 
matter  that  previous  oecumenical  councils  did  not  stand 
upon  a  broad  platform?  Does  not  religion  grow?  Was 
the  present  Parliament  of  Religions  not  oecumenical? 
And  has  the  holy  spirit  of  religious  progress  ceased  to 
be  a  presence  in  mankind?  If  ever  any  council  was 
oecumenical,  it  was  this  gathering  at  Chicago  ;  and  al- 
though no  resolutions  were  passed,  there  were  a  cer- 
tain harmony  in  matters  of  faith  and  a  consciousness 
of  that  which  is  essential,  such  as  were  never  mani- 
fested before. 

The  narrow  Christianity  will  disappear,  for  its  er- 
rors have  become  palpable.  There  are  still  remaining 
some  prophets  of  the  trust  in  a  blind  faith,  but  their 
influence  is  on  the  wane.  Liberals  are  inclined  to  sus- 
pect the  motives  of  the  believers  in  the  letter,  but  they 
judge  without  charity.  The  narrow-minded  Christian 
dogmatists  are  neither  false  nor  hypocritical,  for  we 
have  ample  evidence  of  their  earnestness  and  their 
simple-minded  piety.  Yet  they  are  mistaken.  They 
are  deficient  in  insight  and  they  lack  in  understanding. 
We  shall  have  to  educate  them  and  teach  them  that 
the  gentle  spirit  of  Christ  is  not  with  them,  but  marches 
on  with  the  progressive  part  of  mankind  to  the  planes 
of  a  higher  evolution. 

We  all  of  us  have  learned  much  during  these  con- 
gresses. Our  foreign  guests  have  learned  to  know 
Christianity  better  than  it  appeared  to  them  in  the  con- 
duct of  Christians  and  in  sermons  and  Sunday-schools, 
and  we  in  turn  have  learned  to  respect  not  only  the 


THE  DAWN  OF  A  NEW  RELIGIOUS  ERA.  II 

love  of  truth  and  earnestness  of  pagans,  but  also  their 
philosophical  capacity. 

The  narrow  Christianity  was  represented  by  a  few 
speakers  and  the  audience  endured  them  with  great 
patience  ;  but  we  can  fairly  ignore  them  here  ;  for  there 
is  no  need  of  reviewing  or  recapitulating  sermons  which 
every  one  who  desires  can  enjoy  in  our  various  ortho- 
dox churches.  Dr.  Briggs  represented  progressive 
theology  and  insisted  that  religion  must  face  the  criti- 
cism of  science.  The  Rev.  Mr.  Mozoomdar  is  the 
leader  of  a  similar  movement  in  India.  The  Brahmo 
Somaj,  which  he  and  the  able  Secretary  of  the  Asso- 
ciation, Mr.  B.  B.  Nagarkar  of  Bombay,  represented, 
may  be  characterised  as  Hindu  Unitarianism.  Max 
Miiller  and  Henry  Drummond  sent  brief  papers  which 
showed  the  warm  sympathy  of  the  authors  and  their 
substantial  agreement  with  the  spirit  of  the  Parliament 
of  Religions. 

It  is  impossible  to  analyse  the  details  of  the  various 
views  presented ;  but  a  few  quotations  from  the 
speeches  of  our  heathen  friends  whom  we  had  not  the 
pleasure  of  meeting  before,  will  not  be  out  of  place. 

Vivekananda  explained  the  central  idea  of  the  Ve- 
das  as  follows  : 

"  I  humbly  beg  to  differ  from  those  who  see  in  monotheism,  in 
the  recognition  of  a  personal  God  apart  from  nature,  the  acme  of 
intellectual  development.  I  believe  it  is  only  a  kind  of  anthropo- 
morphism which  the  human  mind  stumbles  upon  in  its  first  efforts 
to  understand  the  unknown.  The  ultimate  satisfaction  of  human 
reason  and  emotion  lies  in  the  realisation  of  that  universal  essence 
which  is  the  All.  And  I  hold  an  irrefragable  evidence  that  this 
idea  is  present  in  the  Veda,  the  numerous  gods  and  their  invoca- 
tions notwithstanding.  This  idea  of  the  formless  All,  the  Sat,  i.  e., 
esse,  or  Being  called  Atman  and  Brahman  in  the  Upanishads,  and 
further  explained  in  the  Darsanas,  is  the  central  idea  of  the  Veda, 
nay,  the  root  idea  of  the  Hindu  religion  in  general." 


12  THE  DAWN  OF  A  NEW  RELIGIOUS  ERA. 

On  another  occasion  the  same  speaker  dwelt  on  the 
idea  of  this  panentheism  with  reference  to  the  soul. 
Though  recognising  law  in  the  world,  he  repudiated 
materialism.  The  soul  has  tendencies,  he  said,  and 
these  tendencies  have  been  caused  by  past  actions  in 
former  incarnations.  Science  explains  everything  by 
habits,  and  habits  are  acquired  by  repetition.  That 
we  do  not  remember  the  acts  done  in  our  previous 
states  of  existence  is  due  to  the  fact  that  consciousness 
is  the  surface  only  of  the  mental  ocean,  and  our  past 
experiences  are  stored  in  its  depths.  The  wheel  of 
causation  rushes  on,  crushing  everything  in  its  way, 
and  waits  not  for  the  widow's  tear  or  the  orphan's  cry. 
Yet  there  is  consolation  and  hope  in  the  idea  that  the 
soul  is  immortal  and  we  are  children  of  eternal  bliss. 
The  Hindu  refuses  to  call  men  sinners  ;  he  calls  them 
"children  of  immortal  bliss."  Death  means  only  a 
change  of  centre  from  one  body  to  another.  He  con- 
tinued : 

"The  Vedas  proclaim,  not  a  dreadful  combination  of  unfor- 
giving laws,  not  an  endless  prison  of  cause  and  effect,  but  that,  at 
the  head  of  all  these  laws,  in  and  through  every  particle  of  matter 
and  force,  stands  One  through  whose  command  the  wind  blows, 
the  fire  burns,  the  clouds  rain,  and  death  stalks  upon  the  earth. 
And  what  is  his  nature  ?  He  is  everywhere,  the  pure  and  formless 
one,  the  Almighty  and  the  All-merciful.  '  Thou  art  our  Father, 
thou  art  our  mother,  thou  art  our  beloved  friend,  thou  art  the 
source  of  all  strength.  Thou  art  He  that  beareth  the  burdens  of 
the  universe;  help  me  bear  the  little  burden  of  this  life.'  Thus 
sang  the  Rishis  of  the  Veda.  And  how  to  worship  him  ?  Through 
love.  '  He  is  to  be  worshipped  as  the  one  beloved,  dearer  than 
everything  in  this  and  in  the  next  life.'  " 

The  breadth  of  Vivekananda's  religious  views  ap- 
peared when  he  said : 

"  The  same  light  shines  through  all  colors,  and  in  the  heart  of 
everything  the  same  truth  reigns.  The  Lord  has  declared  to  the 


THE  DAWN  OF  A  NEW  RELIGIOUS  ERA.  13 

Hindu  in  his  incarnation  as  Krishna,  '  I  am  in  every  religion,  as 
the  thread  through  a  string  of  pearls,  and  wherever  thou  seest  ex- 
traordinary holiness  and  extraordinary  power  raising  and  purifying 
humanity  know  ye  that  I  am  there." 

Parseeism,  the  noble  religion  of  Zarathustra,  re- 
ceived scholarly  treatment  by  Jinanji  Jamshedji  Modi 
who  repudiated  its  dualism  and  represented  it  as  pure 
monotheism,  while  he  satisfactorily  explained  the  sym- 
bolism of  the  sacred  fire.  In  this  way  almost  every 
religion  was  raised  to  a  higher  standpoint,  than  it  is 
usually  understood  to  have,  by  its  representatives,  and 
even  idolatry  found  adroit  champions  in  the  Congress. 

Said  Vivekananda : 

"  It  may  be  said  without  the  least  fear  of  contradiction  that  no 
Indian  idolater,  as  such,  believes  the  piece  of  stone,  metal,  or  wood 
before  his  eyes  to  be  his  god  in  any  sense  of  the  word.  He  takes 
it  only  as  a  symbol  of  the  all-pervading  Godhood,  and  uses  it  as  a 
convenient  object  for  purposes  of  concentration,  which  being  ac- 
complished, he  does  not  hesitate  to  throw  it  away." 

Prince  Momolu  Massaquoi,  son  of  a  native  king 
from  the  Wey  Territory  of  the  West  Coast  of  Africa,  a 
fine-looking  youth  of  good  education,  which  he  had 
received  in  an  American  college  after  his  conversion 
to  Christianity,  spoke  in  the  same  way  with  Viveka- 
nanda concerning  the  idolatry  of  African  natives. 

Mohammedanism,  in  addition  to  its  representation 
by  Moslems,  was  critically  reviewed  by  the  Rev.  George 
Washburn,  President  of  Robert  College,  Constantino- 
ple, who  showed  its  points  of  contact  and  disagree- 
ment with  Christianity.  He  quoted  passages  from  the 
Koran  which,  in  contrast  to  Mr.  Webb's  exposition, 
prove  the  exclusiveness  of  Mohammed's  religion.  The 
third  sura,  for  instance,  declares  : 

"Whoever  followeth  any  other  religion  than  Islam,  shall  not 
be  accepted,  and  at  the  last  day  he  shall  be  of  those  that  perish  !  " 


14  THE  DAWN  OF  A  NEW  RELIGIOUS  ERA. 

Dr.  Washburn's  quotation  from  the  Koran  reminds 
us  of  similar  passages  in  the  New  Testament ;  the  old 
orthodoxy  of  the  Moslems,  however,  is  giving  way  to 
broader  views.  Tout  comme  chez  nous!  Dr.  Washburn 
quoted  the  following  Mohammedan  hymn,  composed 
by  Shereef  Hanoom,  a  Turkish  lady  of  Constantinople, 
and  translated  by  the  Rev.  H.  O.  Dwight,  which  re- 
minds us  strongly  of  our  best  modern  Christian  poetry: 

"  O  source  of  kindness  and  of  love, 
O  give  us  aid  or  hopes  above, 
'Mid  grief  and  guilt  although  I  grope, 
From  thee  I'll  ne'er  cut  off  my  hope, 
My  Lord,  O  my  Lord  ! 

' '  Thou  King  of  Kings,  dost  know  my  need, 

Thy  pardoning  grace,  no  bars  can  heed  ; 

Thou  lov'st  to  help  the  helpless  one 

And  bid'st  his  cries  of  fear  be  gone, 

My  Lord,  O  my  Lord  ! 

' '  Shouldst  thou  refuse  to  still  my  fears, 
Who  else  will  stop  to  dry  my  tears  ? 

For  I  am  guilty,  guilty  still, 

No  other  one  has  done  so  ill, 
My  Lord,  O  my  Lord  ! 

"  The  lost  in  torment  stand  aghast, 
To  see  this  rebel's  sins  so  vast ; 

What  wonder,  then,  that  Shereef  cries 

For  mercy,  mercy,  ere  she  dies, 
My  Lord,  O  my  Lord  !  " 

Prof.  Minas  Tche"raz,  an  Armenian  Christian,  when 
sketching  the  history  of  the  Armenian  Church,  said 
sarcastically  that  real  Mohammedanism  was  quite  dif- 
ferent from  the  Islam  represented  by  Mr.  Webb.  This 
may  be  true,  but  Mr.  Webb  might  return  the  compli- 
ment and  say  that  true  Christianity  as  it  showed  itself 
in  deeds  such  as  the  Crusades,  is  quite  different  from 


THE  DAWN  OF  A  NEW  RELIGIOUS  ERA.  15 

that  ideal  which  its  admirers  claim  it  to  be.  Similar 
objections,  that  the  policy  of  Christian  nations  showed 
very  little  the  love  and  meekness  of  Jesus,  were  indeed 
made  by  Mr.  Hirai,  a  Buddhist  of  Japan.  We  Chris- 
tians have  reason  enough  to  be  charitable  in  judging 
others. 

Buddhism  was  strongly  represented  by  delegates 
from  Ceylon,  Siam,  and  Japan.  H.  R.  H.  Chandradat 
Chudhadharn,  Prince  of  Siam,  sent  a  paper  which 
contained  a  brief  exposition  of  Buddhistic  principles. 
There  are  four  noble  truths  according  to  Buddha. 
These  are  (i)  the  existence  of  suffering  ;  (2)  the  rec- 
ognition of  ignorance  as  the  cause  of  suffering  ;  (3) 
the  extinction  of  suffering  by  the  cessation  of  the  three 
kinds  of  lust  arising  from  ignorance ;  and  (4)  the  eight 
paths  that  lead  to  the  cessation  of  lust.  These  eight 
paths  constitute  the  way  of  salvation  and  are  (i) 
right  understanding ;  (2)  right  resolutions  ;  (3)  right 
speech  ;  (4)  right  acts  ;  (5)  the  right  way  of  earning  a 
livelihood  ;  (6)  right  efforts  ;  (7)  right  meditation  ;  and 
(8)  the  right  state  of  the  mind.  The  Japanese  Bud- 
dhists are  men  of  philosophical  depth  and  genius,  and 
might  have  made  a  deeper  impression  than  they  did  if 
they  had  been  more  familiar  with  Western  thought. 
They  left,  however,  behind  them  a  number  of  pam- 
phlets for  free  distribution  by  the  Bukkyo  Gakkuwai, 
a  society  at  Tokio  whose  sole  purpose  is  the  propaga- 
tion of  Buddhism.*  The  missionary  zeal  of  the  Japa- 

*  These  are  the  titles  of  the  Japanese  missionary  tracts  in  my  possession  : 
Outlines  of  the  Mah&ydna  as  taught  by  Buddha,  by  S.  Kuroda,  Superintendent 
of  Education  of  the  Jodo-Sect ;  The  Sutra  of  Forty-two  Sections  and  Two  Other 
Short  Sutras,  translated  from  the  Chinese  originals  (The  Buddhist  Propaga- 
tion Society:  Kyoto,  Japan,  1892) ;  A  Shin-Shiu  Catechism,  by  S.  Kato  of  the 
Hongwanjiha  of  the  Shin-Shiu  sect  of  Japan  (The  Buddhist  Propagation  So- 
ciety, Kyoto,  Japan,  1893);  The  Skeleton  of  a  Philosophy  of  Religion,  by  the  Rev. 
Prof.  M.  Tokunaga,  translated  by  Zenshiro  Noguchi  (Tokio,  Kawai  Bunkodo 


l6  THE  DAWN  OF  A  NEW  RELIGIOUS   ERA. 

nese  Buddhists  shows  that  there  is  life  in  Buddhism. 
The  Rt.  Rev.  Ashitsu  concluded  his  article  on  the 
teachings  of  Buddha  with  the  following  words  : 

"You  know  very  well  that  our  sunrise  island  of  Japan  is  noted 
for  its  beautiful  cherry-tree  flowers.  But  you  do  not  know  that 
our  country  is  also  the  kingdom  where  the  flowers  of  truth  are 
blooming  in  great  beauty  and  profusion  at  all  seasons.  Visit  Ja- 
pan, and  do  not  forget  to  take  home  with  you  the  truth  of  Bud- 
dhism. All  hail  the  glorious  spiritual  spring-day,  when  the  song 
and  odor  of  truth  invite  you  all  out  to  our  country  for  the  search 
of  holy  paradise!" 

One  quotation  from  the  Japanese  missionary  tracts 
will  suffice  to  prove  that  the  ancient  teachings  of  Gau- 
tama are  still  preserved  among  his  adherents  of  the 
present  generation  of  Japan.  In  "The  Sutra  of  Forty- 
two  Sections  "  we  read  on  page  3  : 

"Buddha  said  :  If  a  man  foolishly  does  me  wrong,  I  will  re- 
turn to  him  the  protection  of  my  ungrudging  love.  The  more  evil 
comes  from  him,  the  more  good  shall  go  from  me.  The  fragrance 
of  goodness  always  comes  to  me,  and  the  harmful  air  of  evil  goes  to 
him.  .  .  . 

' '  Buddha  said  :  A  wicked  man  who  reproaches  a  virtuous  one 
is  like  one  who  looks  up  and  spits  at  heaven  ;  the  spittle  soils  not 
the  heaven,  but  comes  back  and  defiles  his  own  person.  So  again, 
he  is  like  one  who  flings  dust  at  another  when  the  wind  is  contrary, 
the  dust  will  return  to  him  who  threw  it.  The  virtuous  man  can- 
not be  hurt,  and  the  misery  that  the  other  would  inflict  falls  back 
on  himself." 

The  Parliament  of  Religions  is  undoubtedly  the 
most  noteworthy  event  of  this  decade.  What  are  the 
World's  Fair  and  its  magnificent  splendor  in  compari- 
son with  it?  Or  what  the  German  Army  Bill,  the  Irish 

&  Co.,  1893);  Outlines  of  the  Doctrine  of  the  Nichiren  Sect,  by  Nissatsu  Arai, 
the  lately  lamented  Dai-s6j6.  With  the  life  of  Nichiren,  the  founder  of  the 
Nichiren  Sect,  edited  by  the  Central  Office  of  the  Nichiren  Sect,  Tokio,  Ja- 
pan, A.  D.  1893. 


THE  DAWN  OF  A  NEW  RELIGIOUS   ERA.  Ij 

Home  Rule  Bill  in  England  and  its  drastic  episodes  in 
the  House  of  Parliament,  or  a  change  of  party  in  the 
United  States?  It  is  evident  that  from  its  date  we  shall 
have  to  begin  a  new  era  in  the  evolution  of  man's  reli- 
gious life. 

It  is  difficult  to  understand  the  pentecost  of  Chris- 
tianity which  took  place  after  the  departure  of  Christ 
from  his  disciples.  But  this  Parliament  of  Religions 
was  analogous  in  many  respects,  and  it  may  give  us  an 
idea  of  what  happened  at  Jerusalem  nearly  two  thou- 
sand years  ago.  A  holy  intoxication  overcame  the 
speakers  as  well  as  the  audience ;  and  no  one  can  con- 
ceive how  impressive  the  whole  proceeding  was,  unless 
he  himself  saw  the  eager  faces  of  the  people  and  im- 
bibed the  enthusiasm  that  enraptured  the  multitudes. 

Any  one  who  attended  these  congresses  must  have 
felt  the  thrill  of  the  divine  spirit  that  was  moving 
through  the  minds  of  the  congregation.  We  may  rest 
assured  that  the  event  is  greater  than  its  promoters 
ever  dreamed  of.  They  builded  better  than  they  knew. 
How  small  are  we  mortal  men  who  took  an  active  part 
in  the  Parliament  in  comparison  with  the  movement 
which  it  inaugurated  !  And  this  movement  indicates 
the  extinction  of  the  old  narrowness  and  the  beginning 
of  a  new  era  of  broader  and  higher  religious  life. 

It  is  proposed  that  another  Parliament  of  Religions 
be  convened  in  the  year  1900  at  the  ancient  city  of 
Bombay,  where  we  may  find  a  spiritual  contrast  be- 
tween the  youngest  city  and  the  oldest,  and  pay  a  trib- 
ute from  the  daughter  to  the  mother.  Other  appro- 
priate places  for  Religious  Parliaments  would  be  Jeru- 
salem, the  Holy  City  of  three  great  religions,  or  some 
port  of  Japan  where  Shintoism,  Confucianism,  Bud- 
dhism, and  Christianity  peacefully  develop  side  by 


1 8  THE  DAWN  OF  A  NEW  RELIGIOUS  ERA. 

side,  exhibiting  conditions  which  invite  a  comparison 
fair  to  all? 

Whether  or  not  the  Parliament  of  Religions  be  re- 
peated, whether  or  not  its  work  will  be  continued,* 
the  fact  remains  that  this  congress  at  Chicago  will 
exert  a  lasting  influence  upon  the  religious  intelli- 
gence of  mankind.  It  has  stirred  the  spirits,  stimu- 
lated mental  growth,  and  given  direction  to  man's  fur- 
ther evolution.  It  is  by  no  means  an  agnostic  move- 
ment, for  it  is  carried  on  the  wings  of  a  religious  faith 
and  positive  certainty.  It  is  decidedly  a  child  of  the 
old  religions,  and  Christianity  is  undoubtedly  still  the 
leading  star.  That  the  faults  of  Christianity  have  been 
more  severely  rebuked  than  those  of  any  other  religion 
should  not  be  interpreted  to  mean  that  the  others  are 
in  every  respect  better,  for  the  censure  is  but  a  sign 
that  points  to  the  purification  of  Christianity.  The 
dross  is  discarded,  but  the  gold  will  remain. 

The  religion  of  the  future,  as  the  opinions  presented 
indicate,  will  be  that  religion  which  can  rid  itself  of 
all  narrowness,  of  all  demand  for  blind  subordination, 
of  the  sectarian  spirit,  and  of  the  Phariseeism  which 
takes  it  for  granted  that  its  own  devotees  alone  are 
good  and  holy,  while  the  virtues  of  others  are  but  pol- 
ished vices.  The  religion  of  the  future  cannot  be  a 
creed  upon  which  the  scientist  must  turn  his  back,  be- 
cause it  is  irreconcilable  with  the  principles  of  science. 
Religion  must  be  in  perfect  accord  with  science  ;  for 

*  It  may  be  well  to  add,  and  those  who  are  interested  in  the  religious  de- 
velopment of  mankind  may  be  glad  to  know,  that  the  work  of  the  Parliament 
of  Religions  may  be  continued.  Under  Mr.  Bonney's  direction  a  local  com- 
mittee has  been  formed  among  the  members  of  which  are  Dr.  Thomas,  Dr. 
Gilbert,  Dr.  Dellano,  Mr.  M.  M.  Snell,  Mrs.  Harbert,  and  the  writer  of  this 
article.  The  committee  is  in  connexion  with  advisory  councils  all  over  the 
world,  and  it  has  been  decided  to  name  the  new  movement  "  The  Wofld's 
Religious  Parliament  Extension." 


THE  DAWN  OF  A  NEW  RELIGIOUS  ERA.  IQ 

science — and  I  mean  here  not  the  private  opinions  and 
hypotheses  of  single  scientists— is  not  an  enterprise  of 
human  frailty.  Science  is  divine,  and  the  truth  of 
science  is  a  revelation  of  God.  Through  science  God 
speaks  to  us  ;  by  science  he  shows  us  the  glory  of  his 
works  ;  and  in  science  he  teaches  us  his  will.* 

"We  love  science,"  said  a  Catholic  priest,  of  Paris, 
at  one  of  the  sessions  in  the  scientific  section,  when  pro- 
testing against  a  thoughtless  remark  of  a  speaker  who 
broadly  accused  the  clergy  of  being  opposed  to  science. 
"We  love  science,"  Father  D'Arby  said,  emphatically; 
"the  office  of  science  in  religion  is  to  prune  it  of  fan- 
tastic outgrowths.  Without  science  religion  would 
become  superstition." 

The  human  soul  consists  of  two  elements,  self  and 
truth.  Self  is  the  egotistical  desire  of  being  some  in- 
dependent little  deity,  and  truth  is  the  religious  long- 
ing for  making  our  soul  a  dwelling-place  of  God.  The 
existence  of  self  is  an  illusion  ;  and  there  is  no  wrong 
in  this  world,  no  vice,  no  sin  except  what  flows  from 
the  assertion  of  self.  Truth  has  a  wonderful  peculiar- 
ity: it  is  inexhaustible,  and  it,  likewise,  demands  a 
constantly  renewed  application.  An  increase  of  knowl- 
edge involves  always  an  increase  of  problems  that  en- 
tice the  inquiring  mind  to  penetrate  deeper  and  deeper 
into  the  mysteries  of  being,  and  however  serious  and 
truth-loving  we  may  have  been, -there  is  always  occa- 
sion to  be  more  faithful  in  the  attendance  to  our  obli- 
gations and  daily  duties.  Self  shrivels  our  hearts  ; 
truth  makes  them  expand  ;  and  the  ultimate  aim  of  re- 

*This  view  of  a  religion  of  science  was  presented  by  the  writer  before  the 
Parliament  in  an  address  entitled  Science  a  Religious  Revelation  (published  in 
pamphlet  form  by  the  Open  Court  Publishing  Co.) 


2O  THE  DAWN  OF  A  NEW  RELIGIOUS  ERA. 

ligion  is  to  eliminate  self  and  let  man  become  an  em- 
bodiment of  truth,  an  incarnation  of  God. 

We  must  welcome  the  light  from  whatever  source 
it  comes,  and  we  must  hail  the  truth  wherever  we  find 
it.  There  is  but  one  religion,  the  religion  of  truth. 
There  is  but  one  piety,  it  is  the  love  of  truth.  There  is 
but  one  morality,  it  is  the  earnest  desire  of  leading  a 
life  of  truth.  And  the  religion  of  the  future  can  only 
be  the  Religion  of  Truth. 


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