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Full text of "The Monist"

THE MONIST. 



QUARTERLY MAGAZINE 



VOLUME VII. 



CHICAGO 

THE OPEN COURT PUBLISHING CO. 
1896-97 



COPYRIGHT BY 

THE OPEN COURT PUBLISHING Co. 
1896-7 



CONTENTS OF VOLUME VII. 

ARTICLES AND AUTHORS. 

Animal Automatism and Consciousness. By C. Lloyd Morgan x 

Baldwin, J. Mark. The Genesis of Social ' ' Interests " 340 

Berkeley to Hegel, From. By Edward Douglas Fawcett 41 

Buddhism, The Mythology of. Illustrated. By the Editor 415 

Buddhism, The Philosophy of. By the Editor 255 

Cappie, James. Some Points in Intracranial Physics 358 

Carus, Paul. Panlogism, 82 ; The Philosophy of Buddhism, 255 ; The Myth- 
ology of Buddhism, 415; Lau-Tsze's Tau-Teh-King, translated, 571. 

Conflict, The, of Races, Classes, and Societies. By G. Fiamingo 380 

Egg-Structure and the Heredity of Instincts, On. By Jacques Loeb 481 

Eucken, Rudolf. Hegel To-day 321 

Fawcett, Edward Douglas. From Berkeley to Hegel 41 

Fiamingo, G. The Conflict of Races, Classes, and Societies 380 

Halsted, George Bruce. Subconscious Pangeometry 100 

Hegel To-day. By Rudolf Eucken 321 

Hutchinson, Woods. The Value of Pain 494 

Intracranial Physics, Some Points in. By James Cappie 358 

Lau-Tsze's Tau-Teh-King. The Old Philosopher's Classic on Reason and 

Virtue Translated. By the Editor 571 

Loeb, Jacques. On Egg-Structure and the Heredity of Instincts 481 

Logic of Relatives, The. By Charles S. Peirce 161 

Logic, The Regenerated. By Charles S. Peirce 19 

Lum, Dyer D. The Basis of Morals. A Posthumous Paper of an Anarchist 

Philosopher 554 

Man as a Member of Society, Introduction to (Continued). Science and Faith. 

II. By P. Topinard 218 

Man as a Member of Society. Science and Faith. III. By P. Topinard 505 

Morals, The Basis of. A Posthumous Paper of an Anarchist Philosopher. By 

Dyer D. Lum 554 

Morgan, C. Lloyd. Animal Automatism and Consciousness i 



iv THE MONIST. 

PAGE 

Pain, The Value of. By Woods Hutchinson 494 

Pangeometry, Subconscious. By George Bruce Halsted 100 

Panlogism. By the Editor 82 

Peirce, Charles S. The Regenerated Logic, 19 ; The Logic of Relatives, 161. 
Science and Faith. By P. Topinard. II. Introduction to Man as a Member 

of Society (Continued) 218. III. Man as a Member of Society, 505. 

Social "Interests," The Genesis of. By J. Mark Baldwin 340 

Topinard, P. Science and Faith. II. Introduction to Man as a Member of 

Society (Continued) 218. Science and Faith. III. Man as a Member 

of Society, 505. 

LITERARY CORRESPONDENCE. 
France. By Lucien Arreat, 107, 287, 446, 602. 

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 

Animal Automatism and Consciousness. By Arthur Harington 611 

Conflict, The, of Races : A Reply to Criticisms. By J. S. Stuart-Glennie 608 

Hegel's Monism and Christianity. By Emilia Digby 114 

India Religious, Political, Social of 1895. B y Virchand R. Gandhi 119 

Mathematical Form, The Theory of. By A. B. Kempe 453 

Panlogism. By E. Douglas Fawcett. (With Editorial Comments.) 295 

Scientific Catalogue, The International, and the Decimal System of Classifica- 
tion. By Thomas J. McCormack 298 

BOOK REVIEWS. 

Bancroft, Wilder D. The Phase Rule 634 

Baraduc, Dr. Communication to the Munich Congress 290 

Bergemann, Paul. Adam Smith's Pddagogische Theorien im Rahmen sei- 
nes Systems der praktischen Philosophic 480 

Bergson, H. Matiere et memoire, essai sur la relation dti corps h I' esprit. 604 

Biological Lectures Delivered at Wood's Holl, Summer of 180,5 637 

Bon, Fred. Grundziige der -wissenschaftlichen und technischen Ethik .... 135 

Bougie, C. Les sciences sociales en Allemagne 113 

Bourgeois, Leon. Solidarite 448 

Broglie, L'Abbe de. Religion et critique 607 

Bucherer, Alfred H. Grundziige einer thermodynamischen Theorie elektro- 

chemischer Krdfte 635 

Caldwell, William. Schopenhauer's System in Its Philosophical Signifi- 
cance 152 

Cantor, Moritz. Vorlesungen iiber Geschichte der Mathematik 314 

Charbonnel, L'Abbe V. Le Congres universel des religions en iqoo, His- 

toire d'une idee 607 



CONTENTS OF VOLUME VII. V 

PAGE 

Christiansen, C. Elements of Theoretical Physics 633 

Cope, E. D. The Primary Factors of Organic Evolution 301 

Couturat, Louis. De Platonicis My this, 156; I. '/;//// matht'matiqnc, 291. 
Dannemann, Friedrich. Grnndriss cincr Geschichte dcr Naturivisscn- 

schaften 1^5 

Dantec, F. Le. Thcorie nouvelle de la vie, 288 ; Le detcrminisme biologique 

et la personnalite conscience, 447. 
Duhem, P. Traite Elementaire de Mecanique Chimique fondle sur la 

Thermodynamique 467 

Duproix, Paul. Kant et Fichte et le probleme de r education 607 

Edinger, L. Die Entzvickelung der Gehirnbahnen in der Tierreihe 476 

Eucken, Rudolf. Der Kampf um eincn geistigcn Lebensinhalt 132 

Fairbanks, Arthur. Introduction to Sociology 148 

Ferrero, G. La Femme criminelle et la prostituee 603 

Ferriere, Emile. La Cause premiere d'apres les donnees experimentales, 

607 ; La Matter e et I'energie, 607 ; La Vie et rftme, 607. 
Fouillee, A. Le mouvement positiviste et la conception sociologique du 

monde, and Le mouvement idealiste et la reaction contre la science 

positive 446 

Fraser, Alexander Campbell. Philosophy of Theism, Gifford Lectures 622 

Freycinet, C. De. Essais sur la philosophic des sciences 319 

Garnett, Lucy M. J. and J. S. Stuart-Glennie. Greek Folk Poesy 624 

Gaup, Otto. Herbert Spencer 640 

Giddings, Franklin Henry. The Principles of Sociology 148 

Gory, Gedeon. L 'immanence de la raison dans la connaissance sensible . . 451 

Griesbach, H. Physikalisch-Chemische Propddeutik 317 

Haeckel, Ernst. Systematische Phylogenie der Wirbellosen Thiere (Inver- 

tebrata) 473 

Halevy, Elie. La Theorie platonicienne des sciences 113 

Halleux, Jean. Expose critique des principes du positivisme contemporain. 113 

Helmholtz, H. von. Vorlcsungen iiber theoretische Physik 630 

Henry, Victor. Antinomies linguistiques 606 

Hobhouse, L. T. The Theory of Knowledge 475 

Hoffding, Harald. Soren Kierkegaard als Philosoph 136 

Hoffding, Harald. Rousseau und seine Philosophic 637 

Holtzmann, Heinrich Julius. Lehrbtich der netitestamentlichen Theologie. . 123 

Janet, Paul. Principes de metaphysique et de psychologic 607 

Jodl, Friedrich. Lehrbuch der Psychologic 459 

Keller, H. Ueber den Urstoff und seine Energie 633 

Lachelier, J. Dufondement de I 'induction 113 

Lanessan, J. De. Ethics of the Chinese Philosophers 1 13 

Lang, Andrew. Mythes, cidtes et religions 109 



Vi THE MONIST. 

PAGE 

Langley, Alfred Gideon. Leibnitz's Nezv Essays Concerning Human Un- 
derstanding 47 2 

Lasswitz, Kurd. Gustav Theodor Fechner 136 

Laviosa, Giacomo. La Filosophia Scientifica del Diritto in Inghiltcrra .... 640 
Leibnitz, Wilhelm Gottfried. New Essays Concerning Human Under- 
standing 47 2 

Lombroso, M. L 'homme de genie, 452; 602; Femme criminelle et la pro- 

stituee, 602. 
Lutoslawski, W. Sur une nouvelle methode pour determiner la chronologic 

des dialogues de Platon 156 

Mabilleau, L. Histoire de la philosophic atomistique 113 

Mach, Ernst. Die Principien der Wdrmelehre 463 

Marillier, L. Mythes, cultus et religions 109 

Mead, G. R. S. Pistis Sophia. A Gnostic Gospel 617 

Morgan, C. Lloyd. Habit and Instinct 628 

Miiller, F. Max. Contributions to the Science of Mythology 625 

Nordau, Max. Paradoxes 113 

Novicow, J. Conscience et volonte sociales 449 

Ostivald ' 's Klassiker der exakten Wissenschaften 307, 632 

Paulhan, Fr. Les types intellectuels, Esprits logiques et esprits faux 107 

Payot, Jules. De la croyance in 

Perez, Bernard. L ''education intellectuelle des le berceau 451 

Pistis Sophia. A Gnostic Gospel. G. R. S. Mead 617 

Prudhomme, Sully. Que sais-je ? Examen de conscience 1 1 1 

Queyrat, F. Les caracteres de V education nouvelle 113 

Radel, M. Thought- Photography 290 

Ratio, Lorenzo. Sociologia e filosofia del Diritto, 473; Stato e Liber le: 
Saggio di Scienza Politico.-, 473. 

Recejac, E. Essai sur les fondements de la connaissance mystique 605 

Rehmke, Johannes. Grundriss der Geschichte der Philosophic 154 

Ribot, Th. La Psychologie des Sentiments 287 

Richard, Gaston. Le socialisme et la science sociale 451 

Roberty, M. De. Ethique, Le Bien et le Mai 290 

Rochas, A. De. L ^ exterior isation de la sensibilite and Lexteriorisation de 

la motricite 289 

Roisel, M. L'idee spiritualiste 451 

Sabatier, A. Essai sur Vimmortalitt au point de vue du naturalisme evo- 

lutioniste 288 

Schlegel, V. Die Grassmanri sche Ausdehnungslehre 148 

Schwartzkopff, Paul. Die prophetische Offenbarung nach Wesen, Inhalt 
und Grenzen, 129 ; Die Irrthumslosigkeit Jesu Christi und der christ- 
liche Glaube, 621. 



CONTENTS OF VOLUME VII. yii 

Strada, J. Jesus ct fere de la science, la veritable histoire de Jesus, 292; 

L> Epopee humainc, 292 ; Ultimum Organum, 292. 

Stuart-Glennie, J. S. Greek Folk Poesy 624 

Thilly, Frank. Lcibnitzens Strcit gegcn Locke in Anschung dcr angcbore- 

nen Jdccn 468 

Thouverez, E. Lc rcalismc mttaphysique 112 

Tonnies, Ferdinand. Hobbes Leben und Lehre 136 

Toulouse, Dr. Enquetc mtdico-psychologique. 1. Introduction generate. 

E. Zola 602 

Tuttle, Herbert. History of Prussia under Frederick the Great. 1756-1757 140 
Volkmann, P. Erkenntnisthcoretische Grundzilgc der Naturwissenschaftcn 

und Hire Beziehungen zutn Geistesleben der Gegenivart 142 

Ward, Lester F. Dynamic Sociology or Applied Social Science 639 

Weber, Alfred. History of Philosophy 468 

Weill, Georges. L'Ecole Saint- Simoniennc 113 

Wernicke, Alex. Kutiur und Schule 480 

Worms, Rene. Organismc et societe 452 

Wundt, Wilhelm . Outlines of Psychology 636 

NOTES. 

A Machine for Solving Numerical Equations. By T. J. McCormack 156 

Prize of the Vierteljahrsschrift fur wissenschaftliche Philosophic 480 

Thomas J. McCormack, Assistant Editor 480 

PERIODICALS ., 158 






VOL. VII. OCTOBER, 1896. No. i 



THE MONIST. 



ANIMAL AUTOMATISM AND CONSCIOUSNESS. 

IN ONE of those forcible essays which have done so much to 
stimulate modern thought, and to evoke that criticism which gives 
to thought new life and interest, Professor Huxley discussed, with 
all the fine subtlety tempered by strong common sense which char- 
acterises his writings, the hypothesis that animals are automata. 1 
The conclusion to which Professor Huxley was led is well known. 
The hypothesis which in the time of Descartes could be at best but a 
bold guess based on scanty and insufficient data, was interpreted in 
the light of modern physiology by an accredited master in that 
branch of science, and was accepted, not only for animals but for 
man himself, with the proviso that automatism is not to be regarded 
as necessarily exclusive of consciousness in any of its phases or in 
any degree of its development. This essay, at the time of its pub- 
lication, came in for its full share of criticism. And it is not improb- 
able that the plain man who reads it to-day, desirous of reaching. a 
rational and straight-forward interpretation of the phenomena of an- 
imal life, will be inclined to suspect that in contending that animals 
are conscious automata Professor Huxley allowed his subtlety to 
outrun his common sense. Such a one will not readily admit that 
his favorite dog is an automatic machine, conscious or unconscious ; 
nor will he allow to pass unchallenged the statement that this view 
of the matter " is that which is implicitly, or explicitly, adopted by 

1 Collected Essays, Vol. I., Essay V., p. 199. 



2 THE MONIST. 

most persons. " And even when he is assured that he, too, is a con- 
scious automaton no less than his four-footed companion, he will, I 
imagine, hesitate to accept this conclusion as the last word of that 
science which Professor Huxley himself tells him is trained and or- 
ganised common sense. 

In order that we may be in a position to consider how far such 
rejection of Professor Huxley's carefully reasoned conclusion is jus- 
tifiable, it will be necessary to quote two or three salient paragraphs 
in which his view is set forth with his usual lucidity of expression. 
The following extracts, from the essay in question, will serve to de- 
fine Huxley's position : 

"When we speak of the actions of the lower animals being guided by in- 
stinct and not by reason, what we really mean is that, though they feel as we do, 
yet their actions are the results of their physical organization. We believe, in short, 
that they are machines, one part of which (the nervous system) not only sets the 
rest in motion, and coordinates its movements in relation with changes in surround- 
ing bodies, but is provided with special apparatus, the function of which is the call- 
ing into existence of those states of consciousness which are termed sensations, 
emotions, and ideas. I believe that this generally accepted view is the best expres- 
sion of the facts at present known." 1 

' ' The consciousness of brutes would appear to be related to the mechanism 
of their body simply as a collateral product of its working, and to be as completely 
without any power of modifying that working as the steam whistle which accompa- 
nies the work of a locomotive engine is without influence upon its machinery. Their 
volition, if they have any, is an emotion indicative of physical changes, not a cause 
of such changes." 1 

' ' Much ingenious argument has at various times been bestowed upon the ques- 
tion : How is it possible to imagine that volition, which is a state of conscious- 
ness, and, as such, has not the slightest community of nature with matter in mo- 
tion, can act upon the moving matter of which the body is composed, as it is as- 
sumed to do in voluntary acts? But if, as is here suggested, the voluntary acts of 
brutes or, in other words, the acts which they desire to perform are as purely 
mechanical as the rest of their actions, and are simply accompanied by the state of 
consciousness called volition, the inquiry, so far as they are concerned, becomes 
superfluous. Their volitions do not enter into the chain of causation of their ac- 
tions at all. 

"It is quite true that, to the best of my judgment, the argumentation which 
applies to brutes holds equally good of men ; and, therefore, that all states of con- 

1 p. 238. 2 p. 240. 



ANIMAL AUTOMATISM AND CONSCIOUSNESS. 3 

sciousness in us, as in them, are immediately caused by molecular changes of the 
brain substance. It seems to me that in men, as in brutes, there is no proof that 
any state of consciousness is the cause of change in the motion of the matter of the 
organism. If these positions are well based, it follows that our mental conditions 
are simply the symbols in consciousness of the changes which take place automat- 
ically in the organism ; and that, to take an extreme illustration, the feeling we call 
volition, is not the cause of a voluntary act, but the symbol of that state of the 
brain which is the immediate cause of that act. We are conscious automata, en- 
dowed with free will in the only intelligible sense of that much-abused term inas- 
much as in many respects we are able to do as we like but none the less parts of 
the great series of causes and effects which, in unbroken continuity, composes that 
which is, and has been, and shall be the sum of existence." 1 

I take it that Professor Huxley's position, as set forth in the es- 
say from which these passages are quoted, may be summed up in 
the following propositions : 

1. Every movement or molecular change, in the animal body, 
regarded as a physical occurrence, has a physical antecedent or 
cause. 

2. Certain movements or molecular changes, in the brain or 
elsewhere, are accompanied by states of consciousness. 

3. Such states of consciousness are collateral products which, 
even if under given conditions they always accompany these 
changes, serve merely to signify their presence. 

4. The term "automaton" is applicable to any piece of mech- 
anism, no matter how complex, all the workings of which at any 
given time are explicable in terms of physical causation. 

5. An animal is such a piece of mechanism some of the phy- 
sical occurrences in which are accompanied by consciousness as an 
adjunct. 

6. Therefore animals are automata, as above defined. 

The first of these propositions may claim, I take it, our unhes- 
itating assent. That every physical occurrence has a physical cause 
or antecedent, is the fundamental assumption upon which physical 
science carries on its investigations. So, too, with regard to the 
second proposition, that certain molecular changes in the brain or 
elsewhere are accompanied by consciousness. This expresses, in 



4 THE MONIST. 

general terms, the conclusion which physiological psychology tends 
more and more confidently to endorse. But the third proposition, 
that consciousness is a collateral product of brain action, introduces 
a bit of theory which appears to me neither satisfactory nor neces- 
sary. I, for one, find as much difficulty in imagining or conceiv- 
ing how matter in motion can produce consciousness, which, "as 
such, has not the slightest community of nature with matter in mo- 
tion," as in conceiving how "volition, which is a state of conscious- 
ness, can act upon the moving matter of which the body is com- 
posed." The difficulty in each case appears to me to be precisely 
the same. Moreover, it would seem that each one of us has at least 
as good reason for believing that one state of consciousness directly 
suggests another in a chain of psychical causation, as that these 
conscious states are merely collateral products which symbolise oc- 
currences in a chain of physical causation. Furthermore, the intro- 
duction of this piece of theory is unnecessary so far as the present 
discussion is concerned. The facts, or what we believe to be the 
facts, are just as well expressed by saying that, from one point of 
view, certain physical occurrences have conscious concomitants, 
and that, from another point of view, certain conscious occurrences 
have physical concomitants ; and that, from either point of view, 
these occurrences are links in a causation chain. This leaves Hux- 
ley's main contention exactly where it was. It merely strikes out a 
redundant hypothesis. 

We come now to the fourth proposition. Professor Huxley 
does not, indeed, anywhere define the terms "automaton" and 
"automatism" ; but the definition above given, that the term "au- 
tomaton" is applicable to any piece of mechanism all the workings 
of which at any given time are explicable in terms of physical caus- 
ation, may, I think, be fairly inferred from what is explicitly or im- 
plicitly contained in the essay. And this is no doubt in accord with 
such a definition as that given in the Encyclopaedia Britannica, 
where an automaton is described as " a self-moving machine, or one 
in which the principle of motion is contained within the mechanism 
itself." It is true that we are told that "the word is generally ap- 
plied to contrivances which simulate for a time the motions of ani- 



ANIMAL AUTOMATISM AND CONSCIOUSNESS. 5 

mal life." But if we apply it to any of the motions of animal life, 
there would appear to be no logical grounds for rejecting its appli- 
cation to all these motions. And if we accept these definitions as 
they stand, Huxley's position, as summarised in propositions 5 and 
6, follow in logical sequence, and we must hold with him that in the 
life of animals and man automatism reigns supreme. 

We may fairly ask, however, first, whether the definition, so 
applied, is in accordance with general usage ; secondly, whether it 
is helpful in the study of animal life ; and, thirdly, whether it pre- 
serves the spirit of the teaching of that acute thinker, Ren6 Des- 
cartes, whose thought Professor Huxley interpreted in terms of 
modern science. 

It certainly does not appear to be in accordance with common 
usage. When I receive a telegram from a friend, who has recently 
returned to England, begging me to come and see him, and delib- 
erate whether, in view of certain engagements into which I have en- 
tered, I can accede to his request, it would seem to be scarcely in 
accordance with established usage to say that I fill in the reply-tel- 
egram automatically. Nor would most persons, I imagine, describe 
my action as instinctive, as they should do if Huxley's view be ac- 
cepted in its entirety, and if, "when we speak of the actions of the 
lower animals being guided by instinct, . . . what we really mean 
is that, though they feel as we do, yet their actions are the results 
of their physical organisation." For the words which Professor 
Huxley inserts after instinct "are guided by instinct and not by 
reason " may be omitted if reason, too, like volition, be no less 
than reflex action, "one of the results of our physical organisation." 
Nor, again, is it in accordance with established usage to call a be- 
ing which profits by experience and which is susceptible of progres- 
sive education an automaton. 

To the second question, as to the first, I am disposed to give a 
negative answer. Distinctive terms are of service just in so far as 
they help us to draw the distinctions which are necessary for clear- 
ness of thought and expression. If we universalise the term autom- 
atism so as to comprise the whole active life of man and animals, 
it loses all its distinctive value. The term as applied to animal life 



6 THE MONIST. 

is useful just in so far as it serves to distinguish actions which are 
automatic from others which are not automatic. On these grounds, 
I am prepared to advocate a more restricted definition, according 
to which an automatic action is one that we have reason to suppose 
is not performed under the immediate guidance of consciousness, 
this phrase being understood to be a shortened expression for "with 
the intervention of certain controlling physical occurrences which 
are accompanied by states of consciousness." Of the exact nature 
and sequence of these physical occurrences, we are at present pro- 
foundly ignorant; but of the nature and sequence of the states of 
consciousness as they occur in ourselves, we do, at any rate, know 
something. And we may fairly infer the existence of somewhat 
similar states from the observable behavior of animals. 

But does Professor Huxley's position preserve the spirit of the 
teaching of Descartes ? I venture to think not. Huxley himself, 
in an earlier essay that on " Descartes's Discourse on Method "- 
thus briefly indicates the Cartesian conception of the role of con- 
sciousness : 

"According to Descartes all the functions which are common to man and an- 
imals are performed by the body as a mere mechanism, and he looks upon con- 
sciousness as the peculiar distinction of the ' chose pensante,' of the 'rational soul,' 
which in man (and in man only in Descartes's opinion) is superadded to the body. 
This rational soul he conceived to be lodged in the pineal gland as in a sort of cen- 
tral office ; and here, by the intermediation of the animal spirits, it became aware 
of what was going on in the body, or influenced the operations of the body. Mod- 
ern physiologists do not ascribe so exalted a function to the little pineal gland, but, 
in a vague sort of way, they adopt Descartes's principle, and suppose that the soul 
is lodged in the cortical part of the brain at least this is commonly regarded as the 
seat and instrument of consciousness." 1 

Now what is the essential feature of Descartes's conception of 
the part played by consciousness ? Is it not that that which con- 
trols, stands apart from the automatic mechanism over which its 
control is exercised ? It is true that his enthronement of conscious- 
ness in the pineal body was about as wide of the mark as was his 

1 Collected Essays, Vol. I., Essay IV., pp. 188-189. 



ANIMAL AUTOMATISM AND CONSCIOUSNESS. 7 

conception of the nerves as conduit pipes through which the ani- 
mal spirits, pumped from the heart to the brain, are emptied into 
the muscles. But if in the latter case his principles were sound, 
though his facts were conjectural, so, too, in the former case, his 
conception was valid in essence though his pineal gland took no 
share in its elaboration. And one may be permitted to wonder in 
what manner, "unwearied dissector and observer" as he was, Des- 
cartes regarded the pineal body in the animals he dissected and ob- 
served. Was it an empty throne awaiting its royal occupant ? This, 
however, by the way. The essential feature of his teaching, as I 
understand it, is that when, as in the actions of man, we have evi- 
dence of guidance and control, in view of certain data afforded 
to consciousness, that which guides and controls stands apart 
from the bodily mechanism concerned in merely automatic re- 
sponse. Descartes himself believed that the soul, enthroned in the 
pineal gland, performed this function. Later thinkers have be- 
lieved that the soul used the cerebral cortex as the instrument 
through which its control was exercised. Professor Huxley, wield- 
ing the sword of logic, forces the soul to abdicate its throne, and 
by his extended hypothesis of automatism does away altogether 
with the conception of guidance and control. But if we dethrone 
the soul, and deny its divine right to rule our actions, that is no 
reason why we should leave the body politic without any form of 
government. The truer inference is that the cerebral cortex is the 
organ of control not as the instrument of the soul, (which may or 
may not exist, 1 so far as the matters we are discussing are con- 
cerned,) but in its own right. For the cortex itself stands apart 
from the lower brain-centres which are concerned in automatism in 
the more restricted sense. 2 The cortex is not the instrument of that 
which controls, but />, from the physical point of view, that which 
controls. The molecular changes therein, evoked by bodily condi- 
tions, are such as to augment, or inhibit (and by augmenting here 

1 This I conceive to be the rigidly agnostic position. 

2 "The cerebral hemispheres, as we have more than once insisted, seem to 
stand apart from the rest of the brain." Professor M. Foster, Text-book of Physi- 
ology, 5th Edition, Part III., p. 999. 



8 THE MONIST. 

and inhibiting there to modify 1 ) the action of the lower automatic 
centres; and these molecular changes are accompanied by con- 
sciousness. The physiology of the future may be able to indicate 
the physical conditions under which control is effected ; but as mat- 
ters now stand, we know far more about the accompaniments in 
consciousness than we do about the concomitant molecular changes. 
In describing therefore what we believe to occur, we may say, if 
we desire to be somewhat pedantically accurate, that the actions 
which we term voluntary are the effects of those molecular changes 
in the cortex which are accompanied by consciousness ; or we may 
say in brief and to avoid circumlocution, that they are the results 
of conscious guidance and control. Thus we preserve the essence 
of Descartes's teaching but interpret it in terms of modern scientific 
thought. 

On all grounds, then, a more restricted definition of the term 
" automaton" than that which Professor Huxley adopted in his 
later Essay 2 seems advisable ; on the ground of general usage, on 
the ground of scientific utility, and on the ground of historical pre- 
cedent. And our consideration of Descartes's teaching helps us to 
reach a further definition of animal automatism, in the more re- 
stricted sense. Automatic action is that which is performed with- 
out the immediate and effective intervention of those molecular 
changes in the cerebral cortex which are accompanied by conscious- 
ness (such intervention being rendered possible by association); 
or, in brief, automatic action is that which is performed without 
conscious guidance and control. Consciousness as an adjunct there 
may be; but it takes no share in the direction of active response. 

Professor Huxley returns to the subject of animal automatism 
in a subsequent essay that on The Connection of the Biological Sci- 



1 Descartes used similar expressions when he likened the rational soul to the 
engineer amidst the automatic figures of a grotto "when he wishes to increase, or 
to slacken, or in some way to alter their movements." Quoted by Huxley, Collected 
Essays, Vol. I., Essay IV., p. 183. 

2 In his earlier essay on Descartes's Discourse he seems to accept the more re- 
stricted usage. See his remarks on the effects of education by which acts become 
mechanical. Loc. cit., p. 188. See also the sentences at the top of p. 187. 



ANIMAL AUTOMATISM AND CONSCIOUSNESS. 9 

ences with Medicine^- (1881) and indicates certain modifications of 
Descartes's views which more recent biological conceptions had 
seemingly rendered necessary. He says: 2 

"But though, as I think, there is no doubt that Descartes was the first to pro- 
pound the fundamental conception of the living body as a physical mechanism, 
which is the distinctive feature of modern, as contrasted with ancient physiology, 
he was misled by the natural temptation to carry out, in all its details, a parallel 
between the machines with which he was familiar, such as clocks and pieces of 
hydraulic apparatus, and the living machine. In all such machines there is a cen- 
tral source of power, and the parts of the machine are merely passive distributors 
of that power. The Cartesian school conceived of the living body as a machine of 
that kind." 

Professor Huxley then leads up to the modern conception of 
the animal body as constituted by a multitude of cell-units, together 
with certain of their products ; and quotes from Bichat the follow- 
ing intermediate conception : 

"All animals," says Bichat, "are assemblages of different organs, each of 
which performs its function and concurs, after its fashion, in the preservation of 
the whole. They are so many special machines in the general machine which con- 
stitutes the individual. But each of these special machines is itself compounded of 
many tissues of very different natures, which in truth constitute the elements of 
these organs." 3 

In view of this conception of the body as a complex structure 
composed of special organs and tissues, supplemented by the more 
recent conception of the tissues themselves as constituted of cellu- 
lar units, Descartes's views stand in need of restatement, and Hux- 
ley thus indicates the nature of the modification required : 

"The proposition of Descartes that the body of a living man is a machine, the 
actions of which are explicable by the known laws of matter and motion, is," he 
says, "unquestionably largely true. But it is also true, that the living body is a 
synthesis of innumerable physiological elements [the cell-units] , each of which 
[is] susceptible of structural metamorphosis and functional metabolism : and that 
the only machinery, in the precise sense in which the Cartesian school understood 
mechanism, is that which co-ordinates and regulates these physiological units into 
an organic whole." 4 

^Collected Essays, Vol. III., pp. 350 et. seq. *Loc. cit., pp. 362-363. 

s Loc. cit., p. 367. *Loc. cit., pp. 368-369. 



10 THE MONIST. 

Huxley then proceeds to show that, with regard to the action 
of the living protoplasm of the cell unit, physiologists fall into two 
schools. First, those "who look with as little favor as Bichat did 
upon any attempt to apply the principles and the methods of phys- 
ics and chemistry to the investigation of the vital processes of 
growth, metabolism, and contractility ; " and secondly, those who 
"look to molecular physics to achieve the analysis of living proto- 
plasm itself into a molecular mechanism." And he himself accepts 
the latter alternative. "Living matter," he says, "differs from 
other matter in degree and not in kind ; the microcosm repeats the 
macrocosm ; and one chain of causation connects the nebulous orig- 
inal of suns and planetary systems with the protoplasmic founda- 
tion of life and organisation." 1 

So far good. Professor Huxley, however, does not proceed, 
with his accustomed thoroughness, to exhibit the connexion of this 
conception of cellular automatism with the modified Cartesian view, 
according to which, he says, the only machinery is that which co- 
ordinates and regulates these physiological units into an organic 
whole. I may perhaps be permitted to do so in terms of that re- 
stricted automatism which I am here advocating. 

Every cell may be regarded as a minute machine specially fitted 
to produce certain chemical products or to undergo certain physical 
changes under the conditions which obtain in the living body. 
Groups of these minute cellular machines constitute tissues and or- 
gans in which their joint and related activities are effectively com- 
bined. The organ thus forms a composite machine ; and its pro- 
ducts or its physical changes are the net result of the mechanical 
transactions in the cell units of which it is constituted. And the 
machine is an automatic one in the sense that every physical change 
which occurs therein has physical antecedents or causes. But it 
also presents this peculiarity ; that the structure of the machine is 
modified by its functional activity; that it is to some extent a plastic 
machine which is moulded to its work by the performance of that 
work. So that if we speak of it as a piece of automatic mechanism 



. cit., pp. 370-371. 



ANIMAL AUTOMATISM AND CONSCIOUSNESS. I I 

we must remember that its automatism is, within certain limits, 
capable of adaptive modification ; that there is in addition to auto- 
matic performance and automatic adjustment something more, 
namely adaptation to new conditions. Whether it is well to apply 
the term " automatic " to such adaptation is a matter that is open 
to discussion. The conception of automatism carries with it, for 
me, an idea of relative fixity and invariability with which the idea 
of plasticity and adaptation is incongruous ; and I should myself 
prefer to say that organic adaptation to environing conditions is 
something beyond and superadded to automatism. 

We must in any case distinguish between the multifarious mo- 
lecular processes which occur in muscular and glandular tissues 
and the co-ordinating processes which occur in nervous centres, 
and which serve to give unity to the working of the compound 
mechanism of the body at large. It is here that we find that ma- 
chinery, "in the precise sense in which the Cartesian school under- 
stood mechanism," which regulates the activities of the physiolo- 
gical units and co-ordinates them into an organic whole. But there 
are two distinct types of the regulative process involved in this co- 
ordination ; the one characterised by relative fixity and invariabil- 
ity ; the other characterised by relative plasticity and adaptation. 
It is to the former that the term animal automatism is, I conceive, 
properly applicable. It comprises that co-ordination which is seen 
in reflex action and in instinctive response. It involves no inter- 
vention of conscious guidance and control. In so far as it is sub- 
ject to modification it ceases to be automatic in character. Strongly 
contrasted with this type of regulative co-ordination is that which 
gives plasticity to the organism as a whole. It comprises that co- 
ordination which is seen in voluntary action and renders acquisition 
possible. It exercises a more or less modifying influence on instinc- 
tive responses and thus lifts them above the level of automatism. 
It involves the direct intervention of those molecular cortical pro- 
cesses which have for their conscious concomitants what we term 
choice, based on previous individual experience and dependent 
upon the association of impressions and ideas. 

On this view an intelligent (and still more a rational) automa- 



12 THE MONIST. 

ton is a contradiction in terms. Intelligence takes in hand the au- 
tomatism presented through heredity, modifies it, and, in the early 
days of life drills the activities and reorganises them into habits. 

When a drill-sergeant takes in hand a number of raw recruits 
he has to keep a vigilant eye on all their actions, checking useless, 
misguided, or mistaken activity in this direction, eliciting more 
prompt and more vigorous response to his commands in that direc- 
tion ; making his men act not as isolated units but as constituent 
members of a corporate body, and aiming throughout at that co- 
ordinated action on which their future efficiency will depend ; so 
that, when they take their places in the ranks, each may be ready 
to perform his own part, in due subordination to the combined ac- 
tion of the whole, without faltering and without hesitation. The 
men are duly organised into squads, companies, battalions, and so 
on ; and thus we have a disciplined army with its brigades, divi- 
sions, and army corps ; with its artillery, engineers, cavalry, and 
infantry ; with its staff divided into intelligence, commissariat, and 
medical departments, each with distinctive responsibilities and un- 
der its own especial commanding officers ; the whole capable of the 
most varied and yet most orderly evolutions at the will of the com- 
mander-in-chief. 

It is the function of consciousness, represented in the flesh by 
the cerebral cortex, to drill and organise the active forces of the 
animal body in a somewhat analogous manner. But when it enters 
upon its duties consciousness finds that a considerable amount of 
the drilling has already been done for it. There is no need to teach 
the organic mechanism how certain activities are to be performed. 
They are already carried out automatically. The intelligence de- 
partment, with its special senses and so forth, is already organised 
so far as the supply of information is concerned. The commissariat 
department, digestive organs, heart, lungs, and the rest, is in pretty 
good working order and eagerly on the look-out for supplies. Many 
complex activities, adaptive actions of the reflex kind and of the 
type termed instinctive, are at once performed without the guid- 
ance of consciousness under appropriate conditions. Consciousness 
merely looks on and makes a memorandum of what is going for- 



ANIMAL AUTOMATISM AND CONSCIOUSNESS. 13 

ward. The number and the complexity of those instinctive activi- 
ties that consciousness thus finds ready to its hand varies in the 
different grades of animal life ; being at a maximum in such forms 
as insects and spiders ; being more marked in birds than in mam- 
mals ; and being inconspicuous or difficult to trace in man. There 
are, however, also many more or less isolated activities, with very 
little initial adaptive value, which resemble raw recruits. Such are 
the comparatively aimless and random limb-movements of the hu- 
man infant, as he lies helpless on his mother's lap. Consciousness 
has to lick these into shape ; to combine and organise their vague 
efforts in directions that are useful for the purposes of animal life, 
and adapted to the conditions under which the forces of that life 
are employed ; gradually to bring the effective work done by the 
several companies, represented by groups of muscles, into due re- 
lation to each other ; and to assume the supreme command of all 
the forces and thus to carry on the battle of life at the best advan- 
tage. 

Such an analogy as this must not be pressed too far. It is ad- 
duced merely for the purposes of illustration. The drill-sergeant, 
for example, is dealing with intelligent beings themselves capable 
of directing and controlling their own actions. But consciousness 
as a drill-sergeant is dealing with automatic movements or activi- 
ties, instinctive or random as the case may be, themselves incapa- 
ble of self-guidance. What the analogy here serves to illustrate is 
this, that neither the drill-sergeant, on the one hand, nor conscious- 
ness, on the other hand, can directly produce the activities which 
are dealt with. The activities must be given. The utmost that can 
be done is to stimulate some to increased energy of action and to 
check or repress others. The activities cannot be created or pro- 
duced : they can only be educed or reduced. Secondly, just as the 
drill-sergeant must vigilantly watch his men, since he is dependent 
on such observation for information as to the correct performance 
of their actions ; so, too, is consciousness entirely dependent on the 
information received through the incoming channels or afferent 
nerves for the data upon which its guidance, through the exercise 
of its power of augmentation, and inhibition, is based. Thirdly, 



14 THE MONIST. 

just as the superior officer has to bring into due relation the evolu- 
tions which are carried out under the control of his subordinates, so 
does consciousness correlate the data received through many groups 
of different nerves and co-ordinate a number of varied activities into 
a more or less definite course of behavior. It is true that the anal- 
ogy here again, to some extent, fails us, since the drill-sergeant and 
his superior officer are separate individuals, while consciousness is 
continuous and is drill-sergeant and superior officer rolled into one. 
But, though this continuity of consciousness remains unbroken, we 
have abundant evidence, in the course of our own experience, of 
the fact that, during the gradual establishment of the supreme con- 
scious control of the bodily activities, the regulation of details of ac- 
tive response is, step by step, relegated to subconscious guidance, 
which, though constantly in touch with, requires but little attention 
from, the supreme centres of voluntary control. The horseman, the 
cyclist, the pianist, knows well that, when once skill has been at- 
tained, such further guidance as is required under the special con- 
ditions of any particular performance of the act of skill may be safely 
left to subconsciousness, scarcely troubling the attention at all. 
Habit has, in large degree, rendered these actions part of the ac- 
quired automatism. But consciousness, like a wise superior officer, 
still keeps vigilant watch. So long as the performance is satisfac- 
tory and accurate the superior officer sees as if he saw not ; but 
when anything goes wrong, consciousness, as superior officer, steps 
in more or less smartly and decisively. 

Few are likely to question the importance in animal life of the 
acquisition of habits, including, as we must, under this term, nearly 
all the varied forms of animal skill. For even when the skill is 
founded upon a congenital and instinctive basis, it is (except, per- 
haps, in some instinctive activities of insects and other inverte- 
brates) improved and guided to finer and more delicate issues in 
the course of individual experience. So that we may regard the 
function of consciousness as twofold ; first, it is concerned in the 
establishment of habits ; and, secondly, it is concerned in the utili- 
sation of all the active powers, including the habits so established, 
in meeting the varied requirements of daily life. 



ANIMAL AUTOMATISM AND CONSCIOUSNESS. 15 

How, then, we may proceed to ask, is the guidance of con- 
sciousness effected? Upon what principles are the acquisition of 
skill and the utilisation of skill to be explained ? 

There can be no question that, from the psychological point of 
view, the association of impressions and ideas is of fundamental im- 
portance. Whatever may be the position assigned to so-called " as- 
sociation by contiguity " in human psychology, there can be no 
question as to its essential importance in the more primitive psy- 
chology of such animals as young birds and young mammals. When 
chicks learn rapidly to distinguish between the caterpillars of the 
cinnabar moth and those of the cabbage moth, so that they gobble 
up the one without hesitation and avoid the other without fail, they 
give us the plainest intimation which can be conveyed by objective 
signs that an association has been formed in either case between 
appearance and taste. Professor Preyer notes that his chicks rap- 
idly learnt to associate the sound of tapping with the presence of 
food. I have elsewhere described how one of my chicks which had 
but recently learnt to drink standing in its tin, subsequently stopped 
as it ran through the water in such a way as to lead one to infer that 
the wet feet had become associated with the satisfaction of thirst. 
Young pheasants seemed to associate water with the sight of a 
toothpick on which I gave them drops. Ducklings so thoroughly 
associated water with the sight of their tin that they tried to drink 
from it and wash in it, though it was empty, nor did they desist for 
some minutes. A young moor-hen, for whose benefit we had dug up 
worms with a spade, and which, standing by, jumped on the just- 
turned sod and seized every wriggling speck which caught his keen 
eye, would soon run from some distance to me so soon as I took 
hold of the spade. There is no need to multiply instances of this 
kind. The study of these young birds is an impressive lesson in as- 
sociation psychology, and one daily grows more convinced of the 
importance of association in the acquisition of experience of this 
homely elementary but essentially practical kind. 

But it may be said that though association is unquestiona- 
bly important, yet its efficiency in the guidance of action depends 
upon something deeper still. Granted that, in a chick which has 



l6 THE MONIST. 

first seen and then tasted a nasty morsal, an association is formed 
between sight and taste, so that on a subsequent occasion its pecu- 
liar appearance suggests its peculiar nastiness. What is the con- 
nexion between the nastiness of a cinnabar caterpillar and the 
checking of the tendency to eat it, or between the niceness of a 
cabbage moth caterpillar and the added energy with which it is 
seized ? Why do taste-stimuli of one kind have the one effect and 
taste-stimuli of a different kind have just the opposite effect ? What 
are the physiological concomitants of the augmentation of response 
in the one case and of the inhibition of response in the other case ? 
I conceive that there is but one honest answer to these questions. 
We do not know. This and much beside must be left for the physi- 
ology of the future to explain. This much may be said : Certain 
stimuli call forth cortical disturbances, the result of which is the 
inhibition of activities leading to the repetition of these stimuli ; 
certain others call forth cortical disturbances the result of which is 
the augmentation of the activities which lead to their repetition. 
The accompaniments in consciousness of the latter we call pleasur- 
able ; the accompaniments in consciousness of the former we call un- 
pleasant, distasteful, or painful. That appears to be a plain state- 
ment of the facts as we at present understand them. 

Now there can be no question as to the strongly-marked hered- 
itary element in such augmentation of response when the cortical 
disturbances have pleasurable concomitants and the inhibition of 
response when the cortical disturbances have unpleasant concom- 
itants. This is, in fact, grounded on the innate powers or faculties 
which the organism derives from its parents or more distant ances- 
tors. But if the cortical augmentation and inhibition form the basis 
upon which all acquisition and all control are based, what becomes 
of the distinction between instinctive and acquired activities? What 
of that between automatic and controlled behavior? Do we not 
come back, after all, to the universal automatism advocated by Pro- 
fessor Huxley? 

Let us look again at the facts. A chick sees for the first time 
in its life a cinnabar caterpillar, instinctively pecks at it under the 
influence of the visual stimulus ; seizes it, and instinctively shrinks 



ANIMAL AUTOMATISM AND CONSCIOUSNESS. 17 

under the influence of the taste stimulus. So far we have instinct 
and automatism. Presently we throw to it another similar caterpil- 
lar. Instinct and automatism alone would lead to a repetition of the 
previous series of events seeing, seizing, tasting, shrinking. The 
oftener the experiment was performed the more smoothly would the 
organic mechanism work, the more definitely would the same se- 
quence be repeated seeing, seizing, tasting, shrinking. Is this 
what we actually observe ? Not at all. On the second occasion the 
chick acts differently as the result of the previous experience. 
Though he sees, he does not seize, but shrinks without seizing. 
We believe that there is a revival in memory of the nasty taste. 
And in this we seem justified, since we may observe that sometimes 
the chick, on such occasions, wipes its bill on the ground as he does 
when he experiences an unpleasant taste, though he has not touched 
the larva. The chick, then, does not continue to act merely from 
instinct and like an automaton. His behavior is modified in the 
light of previous experience. What, then, has taken place in and 
through which this modification, born of experience, is introduced? 
In answering this question we seem to put our finger upon that in 
virtue of which the distinction now regarded as of so much biolog- 
ical significance that between congenital and acquired activities 
has a valid existence. The answer may be given in two words 
Association and the Suggestion that arises therefrom. The chick's 
first experience of the cinnabar caterpillar leads to an association 
between the appearance of the larva and its taste ; or, from the 
physiological point of view, a direct connexion between the sev- 
eral cortical disturbances. On the second occasion the taste is sug- 
gested by the sight of the cinnabar larva ; or, physiologically, the 
disturbance associated with taste is directly called forth by the dis- 
turbance associated with sight. It is through association and sug- 
gestion that an organism is able to profit by experience and that its 
behavior ceases to be merely instinctive and automatic. And such 
association would seem to be a purely individual matter founded, 
no doubt, on an innate basis, linking activities of the congenital 
type, but none the less wholly dependent upon the immediate touch 
of individual experience. 



1 8 THE MONIST. 

In watching, then, the behavior of young birds or other ani- 
mals, we observe a development which we interpret as the result of 
conscious choice and selection. For the chick, to which a handful 
of mixed caterpillars is thrown, chooses out the nice ones and leaves 
the nasty ones untouched. The selection is dependent upon an in- 
nate power of association which needs the quickening touch of indi- 
vidual experience to give it activity and definition, without which it 
lies dormant as a mere potentiality. On this conscious selection 
and choice depends throughout its entire range this development of 
those habits which are acquired as opposed to those which are con- 
genital; and on it depends the whole of mental as contrasted with 
merely biological evolution. On it, too, depends the distinction be- 
tween animal automatism, in the restricted sense here advocated, 
and those higher powers which, though founded thereon, constitute 
a new field of evolutionary progress. 

C. LLOYD MORGAN. 



THE REGENERATED LOGIC. 

/ T A HE appearance of Schroeder's Exact Logic 1 has afforded much 
*- gratification to all those homely thinkers who deem the com- 
mon practice of designating propositions as "unquestionable," 
"undoubtedly true," " beyond dispute," etc., which are known to 
the writer who so designates them to be doubted, or perhaps even 
to be disputed, by persons who with good mental capacities have 
spent ten or more years of earnest endeavor in fitting themselves 
to judge of matters such as those to which the propositions in ques- 
tion relate, to be no less heinous an act than a trifling with veracity, 
and who opine that questions of logic ought not to be decided upon 
philosophical principles, but on the contrary, that questions of phi- 
losophy ought to be decided upon logical principles, these having 
been themselves settled upon principles derived from the only sci- 
ence in which there has never been a prolonged dispute relating to 
the proper objects of that science. Among those homely thinkers 
the writer of this review is content to be classed. 

Why should we be so much gratified by the appearance of a 
single book? Do we anticipate that this work is to convince the 
philosophical world ? By no means ; because we well know that 
prevalent philosophical opinions are not formed upon the above 
principles, nor upon any approach to them. A recent little paper 
by an eminent psychologist concludes with the remark that the ver- 



1 Vorlesungen ilber die Algebra der Logik (Exakte Logik). Von Dr. Ernst SchrS- 
der, Ord. Professor der Mathematik an der technischen Hochschule zu Karlsruhe 
in Baden. Dritter Band. Algebra und Logik der Relative. Leipsic : B. G. Teub- 
ner. 1895. Price, 16 M. 



20 THE MONIST. 

diet of a majority of four of a jury, provided the individual members 
would form their judgments independently, would have greater prob- 
ability of being true than the unanimous verdict now is. Certainly, 
this may be assented to ; for the present verdict is not so much an 
opinion as a resultant of psychical and physical forces. But the 
remark seemed to me a pretty large concession from a man imbued 
with the idea of the value of modern opinion about philosophical 
questions formed according to that scientific method which the 
Germans and their admirers regard as the method of modern sci- 
ence, I mean, that method which puts great stress upon co-opera- 
tion and solidarity of research even in the early stages of a branch 
of science, when independence of thought is the wholesome attitude, 
and gregarious thought is really sure to be wrong. For, as regards 
the verdict of German university professors, which, excepting at 
epochs of transition, has always presented a tolerable approach to 
unanimity upon the greater part of fundamental questions, it has 
always been made up as nearly as possible in the same way that the 
verdict of a jury is made up. Psychical forces, such as the spirit of 
the age, early inculcations, the spirit of loyal discipline in the gen- 
eral body, and that power by virtue of which one man bears down 
another in a negotiation, together with such physical forces as those 
of hunger and cold, are the forces which are mainly operative in 
bringing these philosophers into line ; and none of these forces have 
any direct relation to reason. Now, these men write the larger num- 
ber of those books which are so thorough and solid that every serious 
inquirer feels that he is obliged to read them ; and his time is so en- 
grossed by their perusal that his mind has not the leisure to digest 
their ideas and to reject them. Besides, he is somewhat overawed 
by their learning and thoroughness. This is the way in which cer- 
tain opinions or rather a certain verdict becomes prevalent among 
philosophical thinkers everywhere ; and reason takes hardly the 
leading part in the performance. It is true, that from time to time, 
this prevalent verdict becomes altered, in consequence of its being 
in too violent opposition with the changed spirit of the age; and the 
logic of history will usually cause such a change to be an advance 
toward truth in some respect. But this process is so slow, that it 



THE REGENERATED LOGIC. 21 

is not to be expected that any rational opinion about logic will be- 
come prevalent among philosophers within a generation, at least. 

Nevertheless, hereafter, the man who sets up to be a logician 
without having gone carefully through Schroeder's Logic will be 
tormented by the burning brand of false pretender in his conscience, 
until he has performed that task; and that task he cannot perform 
without acquiring habits of exact thinking which shall render the 
most of the absurdities which have hitherto been scattered over even 
the best of the German treatises upon logic impossible for him. 
Some amelioration of future treatises, therefore, though it will leave 
enough that is absurd, is to be expected ; but it is not to be expected 
that those who form their opinions about logic or philosophy ration- 
ally, and therefore not gregariously, will ever comprise the majority 
even of philosophers. But opinions thus formed, and among such 
those formed by thoroughly informed and educated minds, are the 
only ones which need cause the homely thinker any misgiving con- 
cerning his own. 

It is a remarkable historical fact that there is a branch of sci- 
ence in which there has never been a prolonged dispute concerning 
the proper objects of that science. It is the mathematics. Mistakes 
in mathematics occur not infrequently, and not being detected give 
rise to false doctrine, which may continue a long time. Thus, a 
mistake in the evaluation of a definite integral by Laplace, in his 
Mecanique celeste, led to an erroneous doctrine about the motion of 
the moon which remained undetected for nearly half a century. But 
after the question had once been raised, all dispute was brought to 
a close within a year. So, several demonstrations in the first book 
of Euclid, notably that of the i6th proposition, are vitiated by the 
erroneous assumption that a part is necessarily less than its whole. 
These remained undetected until after the theory of the non-Euclid- 
ean geometry had been completely worked out ; but since that time, 
no mathematician has defended them ; nor could any competent 
mathematician do so, in view of Georg Cantor's, or even of Cau- 
chy's discoveries. Incessant disputations have, indeed, been kept 
up by a horde of undisciplined minds about quadratures, cyclotomy, 
the theory of parallels, rotation, attraction, etc. But the disputants 



22 THE MONIST. 

are one and all men who cannot discuss any mathematical problem 
without betraying their want of mathematical power and their gross 
ignorance of mathematics at every step. Again, there have been 
prolonged disputes among real mathematicians concerning ques- 
tions which were not mathematical or which had not been put into 
mathematical form. Instances of the former class are the old dis- 
pute about the measure of force, and that lately active concerning 
the number of constants of an elastic body ; and there have been 
sundry such disputes about mathematical physics and probabilities. 
Instances of the latter class are the disputes about the validity of rea- 
sonings concerning divergent series, imaginaries, and infinitesimals. 
But the fact remains that concerning strictly mathematical ques- 
tions, and among mathematicians who could be considered at all 
competent, there has never been a single prolonged dispute. 

It does not seem worth while to run through the history of sci- 
ence for the sake of the easy demonstration that there is no other 
extensive branch of knowledge of which the same can be said. 

Nor is the reason for this immunity of mathematics far to seek. 
It arises from the fact that the objects which the mathematician ob- 
serves and to which his conclusions relate are objects of his mind's 
own creation. Hence, although his proceeding is not infallible, 
which is shown by the comparative frequency with which mistakes 
are committed and allowed, yet it is so easy to repeat the inductions 
upon new instances, which can be created at pleasure, and extreme 
cases can so readily be found by which to test the accuracy of the 
processes, that when attention has once been directed to a process 
of reasoning suspected of being faulty, it is soon put beyond all 
dispute either as correct or as incorrect. 

Hence, we homely thinkers believe that, considering the im- 
mense amount of disputation there has always been concerning the 
doctrines of logic, and especially concerning those which would 
otherwise be applicable to settle disputes concerning the accuracy 
of reasonings in metaphysics, the safest way is to appeal for our 
logical principles to the science of mathematics, where error can 
only long go unexploded on condition of its not being suspected. 
This double assertion, first, that logic ought to draw upon 



THE REGENERATED LOGIC. 23 

mathematics for control of disputed principles, and second that on- 
tological philosophy ought in like manner to draw upon logic, is a 
case under a general assertion which was made by Auguste Comte, 
namely, that the sciences may be arranged in a series with reference 
to the abstractness of their objects ; and that each science draws 
regulating principles from those superior to it in abstractness, while 
drawing data for its inductions from the sciences inferior to it in ab- 
stractness. So far as the sciences can be arranged in such a scale, 
these relationships must hold good. For if anything is true of a 
whole genus of objects, this truth may be adopted as a principle in 
studying every species of that genus. While whatever is true of a 
species will form a datum for the discovery of the wider truth which 
holds of the whole genus. Substantially the following scheme of 
the sciences is given in the Century Dictionary : 

MATHEMATICS 



Philosophy 



Science of Time 



Nomological Psychics 



Classificatory Psychics 



Descriptive Psychics 



Geometry 



Molar 



Nomological Physics < Molecular 
( Ethereal 

(Chemistry 
c 



Descriptive Physics 



[ protoplasms 



PRACTICAL SCIENCE. 

Perhaps each psychical branch ought to be placed above the corre- 
sponding physical branch. However, only the first three branches 
concern us here. 

Mathematics is the most abstract of all the sciences. For it 
makes no external observations, nor asserts anything as a real fact. 
When the mathematician deals with facts, they become for him 
mere "hypotheses "; for with their truth he refuses to concern him- 
self. The whole science of mathematics is a science of hypotheses ; 
so that nothing could be more completely abstracted from concrete 
reality. Philosophy is not quite so abstract. For though it makes 
no special observations, as every other positive science does, yet it 
does deal with reality. It confines itself, however, to the universal 



24 THE MONIST. 

phenomena of experience ; and these are, generally speaking, suf- 
ficiently revealed in the ordinary observations of every-day life. 
I would even grant that philosophy, in the strictest sense, confines 
itself to such observations as must be open to every intelligence 
which can learn from experience. Here and there, however, meta- 
physics avails itself of one of the grander generalisations of physics, 
or more often of psychics, not as a governing principle, but as a 
mere datum for a still more sweeping generalisation. But logic is 
much more abstract even than metaphysics. For it does not con- 
cern itself with any facts not implied in the supposition of an un- 
limited applicability of language. 

Mathematics is not a positive science ; for the mathematician 
holds himself free to say that A is B or that A is not , the only 
obligation upon him being, that as long as he says A is B, he is to 
hold to it, consistently. But logic begins to be a positive science ; 
since there are some things in regard to which the logician is not 
free to suppose that they are or are not ; but acknowledges a com- 
pulsion upon him to assert the one and deny the other. Thus, the 
logician is forced by positive observation to admit that there is such 
a thing as doubt, that some propositions are false, etc. But with 
this compulsion comes a corresponding responsibility upon him not 
to admit anything which he is not forced to admit. 

Logic may be defined as the science of the laws of the stable 
establishment of beliefs. Then, exact logic will be that doctrine of 
the conditions of establishment of stable belief which rests upon per- 
fectly undoubted observations and upon mathematical, that is, upon 
diagrammatical, or, iconic, thought. We, who are sectaries of " ex- 
act " logic, and of " exact" philosophy, in general, maintain that 
those who follow such methods will, so far as they follow them, es- 
cape all error except such as will be speedily corrected after it is 
once suspected. For example, the opinions of Professor Schroder 
and of the present writer diverge as much as those of two " exact " 
logicians well can ; and yet, I think, either of us would acknowl- 
edge that, however serious he may hold the errors of the other to 
be, those errors are, in the first place, trifling in comparison with 
the original and definite advance which their author has, by the 



THE REGENERATED LOGIC. 25 

" exact" method, been able to make in logic, that in the second 
place, they are trifling as compared with the errors, obscurities, and 
negative faults of any of those who do not follow that method, and 
in the third place, that they are chiefly, if not wholly, due to their 
author not having found a way to the application of diagrammatical 
thought to the particular department of logic in which they occur. 

"Exact" logic, in its widest sense, will (as I apprehend) con- 
sist of three parts. For it will be necessary, first of all, to study 
those properties of beliefs which belong to them as beliefs, irrespec- 
tive of their stability. This will amount to what Duns Scotus called 
speculative grammar. For it must analyse an assertion into its es- 
sential elements, independently of the structure of the language in 
which it may happen to be expressed. It will also divide asser- 
tions into categories according to their essential differences. The 
second part will consider to what conditions an assertion must con- 
form in order that it may correspond to the "reality," that is, in 
order that the belief it expresses may be stable. This is what is 
more particularly understood by the word logic. It must consider, 
first, necessary, and second, probable reasoning. Thirdly, the gen- 
eral doctrine must embrace the study of those general conditions 
under which a problem presents itself for solution and those under 
which one question leads on to another. As this completes a triad 
of studies, or trivium, we might, not inappropriately, term the last 
study Speculative rhetoric. This division was proposed in 1867 by 
me, but I have often designated this third part as objective logic. 

Dr. Schroder's Logic is not intended to cover all this ground. 
It is not, indeed, as yet complete; and over five hundred pages 
may be expected yet to appear. But of the seventeen hundred and 
sixty-six pages which are now before the public, only an introduc- 
tion of one hundred and twenty-five pages rapidly examines the 
speculative grammar, while all the rest, together with all that is 
promised, is restricted to the deductive branch of logic proper. 
By the phrase "exact logic" upon his title-page, he means logic 
treated algebraically. Although such treatment is an aid to exact 
logic, as defined on the last page, it is certainly not synonymous 
with it. The principal utility of the algebraic treatment is stated 



26 THE MONIST. 

by him with admirable terseness: it is "to set this discipline free 
from the fetters in which language, by force of custom, has bound 
the human mind." Upon the algebra may, however, be based a 
calculus, by the aid of which we may in certain difficult problems 
facilitate the drawing of accurate conclusions. A number of such 
applications have already been made ; and mathematics has thus 
been enriched with new theorems. But the applications are not so 
frequent as to make the elaboration of a facile calculus one of the 
most pressing desiderata of the study. Professor Schroder has 
done a great deal in this direction ; and of course his results are 
most welcome, even if they be not precisely what we should most 
have preferred to gain. 

The introduction, which relates to first principles, while con- 
taining many excellent observations, is somewhat fragmentary and 
wanting in a unifying idea ; and it makes logic too much a matter 
of feeling. It cannot be said to belong to exact logic in any sense. 
Thus, under /? (Vol. I., p. 2) the reader is told that the sciences 
have to suppose, not only that their objects really exist, but also 
that they are knowable and that for every question there is a true 
answer and but one. But, in the first place, it seems more exact 
to say that in the discussion of one question nothing at all concern- 
ing a wholly unrelated question can be implied. And, in the sec- 
ond place, as to an inquiry presupposing that there is some one 
truth, what can this possibly mean except it be that there is one 
destined upshot to inquiry with reference to the question in hand, 
one result, which when reached will never be overthrown ? Un- 
doubtedly, we hope that this, or something approximating to this, is 
so, or we should not trouble ourselves to make the inquiry. But 
we do not necessarily have much confidence that it is so. Still less 
need we think it is so about the majority of the questions with which 
we concern ourselves. But in so exaggerating the presupposition, 
both in regard to its universality, its precision, and the amount of 
belief there need be in it, Schroder merely falls into an error com- 
mon to almost all philosophers about all sorts of "presuppositions." 
Schroder (under e, p. 5) undertakes to define a contradiction in 
terms without having first made an ultimate analysis of the propo- 



THE REGENERATED LOGIC. 2J 

sition. The result is a definition of the usual peripatetic type ; that 
is, it affords no analysis of the conception whatever. It amounts 
to making the contradiction in terms an ultimate unanalysable re- 
lation between two propositions, a sort of blind reaction between 
them. He goes on (under , p. 9) to define, after Sigwart, logical 
consequentiality, as a compulsion of thought. Of course, ,he at once 
endeavors to avoid the dangerous consequences of this theory, by 
various qualifications. But all that is to no purpose. Exact logic 
will say that C's following logically from A is a state of things which 
no impotence of thought can alone bring about, unless there is also 
an impotence of existence for A to be a fact without C being a fact. 
Indeed, as long as this latter impotence exists and can be ascer- 
tained, it makes little or no odds whether the former impotence 
exists or not. And the last anchor-hold of logic he makes (under z) 
to lie in the correctness of a feeling ! If the reader asks why so 
subjective a view of logic is adopted, the answer seems to be (under 
/?, p. 2), that in this way Sigwart escapes the necessity of found- 
ing logic upon the theory of cognition. By the theory of cognition 
is usually meant an explanation of the possibility of knowledge 
drawn from principles of psychology. Now, the only sound psy- 
chology being a special science, which ought itself to be based upon 
a well-grounded logic, it is indeed a vicious circle to make logic 
rest upon a theory of cognition so understood. But there is a much 
more general doctrine to which the name theory of cognition might 
be applied. Namely, it is that speculative grammar, or analysis 
of the nature of assertion, which rests upon observations, indeed, 
but upon observations of the rudest kind, open to the eye of every 
attentive person who is familiar with the use of language, and 
which, we may be sure, no rational being, able to converse at all 
with his fellows, and so to express a doubt of anything, will ever 
have any doubt. Now, proof does not consist in giving superfluous 
and superpossible certainty to that which nobody ever did or ever 
will doubt, but in removing doubts which do, or at least might at 
some time, arise. A man first comes to the study of logic with an 
immense multitude of opinions upon a vast variety of topics ; and 
they are held with a degree of confidence, upon which, after he has 



28 THE MONIST. 

studied logic, he comes to look back with no little amusement. 
There remains, however, a small minority of opinions that logic 
never shakes ; and among these are certain observations about as- 
sertions. The student would never have had a desire to learn logic 
if he had not paid some little attention to assertion, so as at least 
to attach a definite signification to assertion. So that, if he has not 
thought more accurately about assertions, he must at least be con- 
scious, in some out-of-focus fashion, of certain properties of asser- 
tion. When he comes to the study, if he has a good teacher, these 
already dimly recognised facts will be placed before him in accurate 
formulation, and will be accepted as soon as he can clearly appre- 
hend their statements. 

Let us see what some of these are. When an assertion is 
made, there really is some speaker, writer, or other sign-maker 
who delivers it ; and he supposes there is, or will be, some hearer, 
reader, or other interpreter who will receive it. It may be a stran- 
ger upon a different planet, an aeon later ; or it may be that very 
same man as he will be a second after. In any case, the deliverer 
makes signals to the receiver. Some of these signs (or at least one 
of them) are supposed to excite in the mind of the receiver familiar 
images, pictures, or, we might almost say, dreams, that is, remi- 
niscences of sights, sounds, feelings, tastes, smells, or other sensa- 
tions, now quite detached from the original circumstances of their 
first occurrence, so that they are free to be attached to new occa- 
sions. The deliverer is able to call up these images at will (with 
more or less effort) in his own mind ; and he supposes the receiver 
can do the same. For instance, tramps have the habit of carrying 
bits of chalk and making marks on the fences to indicate the habits 
of the people that live there for the benefit of other tramps who 
may come on later. If in this way a tramp leaves an assertion that 
the people are stingy, he supposes the reader of the signal will have 
met stingy people before, and will be able to call up an image of 
such a person attachable to a person whose acquaintance he has 
not yet made. Not only is the outward significant word or mark a 
sign, but the image which it is expected to excite in the mind of the 
receiver will likewise be a sign, a sign by resemblance, or, as we 



THE REGENERATED LOGIC. 2Q 

say, an icon, of the similar image in the mind of the deliverer, and 
through that also a sign of the real quality of the thing. This icon 
is called the predicate of the assertion. But instead of a single icon, 
or sign by resemblance of a familiar image or "dream," evocable 
at will, there may be a complexus of such icons, forming a compo- 
site image of which the whole is not familiar. But though the 
whole is not familiar, yet not only are the parts familiar images, 
but there will also be a familiar image of its mode of composition. 
In fact, two types of complication will be sufficient. For example, 
one may be conjunctive and the other disjunctive combination. 
Conjunctive combination is when two images are both to be used 
at once ; and disjunctive when one or other is to be used. (This 
is not the most scientific selection of types ; but it will answer the 
present purpose.) The sort of idea which an icon embodies, if it 
be such that it can convey any positive information, being applic- 
able to some things but not to others, is called a first intention. The 
idea embodied by an icon which cannot of itself convey any infor- 
mation, being applicable to everything or to nothing, but which 
may, nevertheless, be useful in modifying other icons, is called a 
second intention. 

The assertion which the deliverer seeks to convey to the mind 
of the receiver relates to some object or objects which have forced 
themselves upon his attention ; and he will miss his mark altogether 
unless he can succeed in forcing those very same objects upon the 
attention of the receiver. No icon can accomplish this, because 
an icon does not relate to any particular thing ; nor does its idea 
strenuously force itself upon the mind, but often requires an effort 
to call it up. Some such sign as the word this, or that, or hullo, or 
hi, which awakens and directs attention must be employed. A sign 
which denotes a thing by forcing it upon the attention is called an 
index. An index does not describe the qualities of its object. An 
object, in so far as it is denoted by an index, having thisness, and 
distinguishing itself from other things by its continuous identity and 
forcefulness, but not by any distinguishing characters, may be called 
a hecceity. A hecceity in its relation to the assertion is a subiect 



30 THE MONIST. 

thereof. An assertion may have a multitude of subjects ; but to 
that we shall return presently. 

Neither the predicate, nor the subjects, nor both together, can 
make an assertion. The assertion represents a compulsion which 
experience, meaning the course of life, brings upon the deliverer to 
attach the predicate to the subjects as a sign of them taken in a 
particular way. This compulsion strikes him at a certain instant ; 
and he remains under it forever after. It is, therefore, different 
from the temporary force which the hecceities exert upon his atten- 
tion. This new compulsion may pass out of mind for the time 
being ; but it continues just the same, and will act whenever the 
occasion arises, that is, whenever those particular hecceities and 
that first intention are called to mind together. It is, therefore, a 
permanent conditional force, or law. The deliverer thus requires a 
kind of sign which shall signify a law that to objects of indices an 
icon appertains as sign of them in a given way. Such a sign has 
been called a symbol. It is the copula of the assertion. 

Returning to the subjects, it is to be remarked that the asser- 
tion may contain the suggestion, or request, that the receiver do 
something with them. For instance, it may be that he is first to 
take any one, no matter what, and apply it in a certain way to the 
icon, that he is then to take another, perhaps this time a suitably 
chosen one, and apply that to the icon, etc. For example, suppose 
the assertion is : "Some woman is adored by all catholics." The 
constituent icons are, in the probable understanding of this asser- 
tion, three, that of a woman, that of a person, A, adoring another, 
J3, and that of a non-catholic. We combine the two last disjunc- 
tively, identifying the non-catholic with A ; and then we combine 
this compound with the first icon conjunctively, identifying the 
woman with B. The result is the icon expressed by, " B is a wo- 
man, and moreover, either A adores B or else A is a non-catholic." 
The subjects are all the things in the real world past and pres- 
ent. From these the receiver of the assertion is suitably to choose 
one to occupy the place of B ; and then it matters not what one he 
takes for A. A suitably chosen object is a woman, and any object, 
no matter what, adores her, unless that object be a non-catholic. 



THE REGENERATED LOGIC. 31 

This is forced upon the deliverer by experience ; and it is by no 
idiosyncrasy of his ; so that it will be forced equally upon the re- 
ceiver. 

Such is the meaning of one typical assertion. An assertion of 
logical necessity is simply one in which the subjects are the objects 
of any collection, no matter what. The consequence is, that the 
icon, which can be called up at will, need only to be called up, and 
the receiver need only ascertain by experiment whether he can dis- 
tribute any set of indices in the assigned way so as to make the as- 
sertion false, in order to put the truth of the assertion to the test. For 
example, suppose the assertion of logical necessity is the assertion 
that from the proposition, "Some woman is adored by all catho- 
lics," it logically follows that "Every catholic adores some woman." 
That is as much as to say that, for every imaginable set of subjects, 
either it is false that some woman is adored by all catholics or it is 
true that every catholic adores some woman. We try the experi- 
ment. In order to avoid making it false that some woman is adored 
by all catholics, we must choose our set of indices so that there 
shall be one of them, J3, such that, taking any one, A, no matter 
what, B is a woman, and moreover either A adores B or else A is 
a non-catholic. But that being the case, no matter what index, A, 
we may take, either A is a non-catholic or else an index can be 
found, namely, >, such that B is a woman, and A adores B. We 
see, then, by this experiment, that it is impossible so to take the set 
of indices that the proposition of consecution shall be false. The 
experiment may, it is true, have involved some blunder ; but it is 
so easy to repeat it indefinitely, that we readily acquire any desired 
degree of certitude for the result. 

It will be observed that this explanation of logical certitude de- 
pends upon the fact of speculative grammar that the predicate of a 
proposition, being essentially of an ideal nature, can be called into 
the only kind of existence of which it is capable, at will. 

A not unimportant dispute has raged for many years as to 
whether hypothetical propositions (by which, according to the tra- 
ditional terminology, I mean any compound propositions, and not 
merely those conditional propositions to which, since Kant, the term 



32 THE MONIST. 

has often been restricted) and categorical propositions are one in 
essence. Roughly speaking, English logicians maintain the affirma- 
tive, Germans the negative. Professor Schroder is in the camp of 
the latter, I in that of the former. 

I have maintained since 1867 that there is but one primary and 
fundamental logical relation, that of illation, expressed by ergo. A 
proposition, for me, is but an argumentation divested of the asser- 
toriness of its premise and conclusion. This makes every proposi- 
tion a conditional proposition at bottom. In like manner a " term," 
or class-name, is for me nothing but a proposition with its indices 
or subjects left blank, or indefinite. The common noun happens to 
have a very distinctive character in the Indo-European languages. 
In most other tongues it is not sharply discriminated from a verb 
or participle. " Man," if it can be said to mean anything by itself, 
means " what I am thinking of is a man." This doctrine, which is 
in harmony with the above theory of signs, gives a great unity to 
logic ; but Professor Schroder holds it to be very erroneous. 

Cicero and other ancient writers mention a great dispute be- 
tween two logicians, Diodorus and Philo, in regard to the signifi- 
cance of conditional propositions. This dispute has continued to 
our own day. The Diodoran view seems to be the one which is 
natural to the minds of those, at least, who speak the European 
languages. How it may be with other languages has not been re- 
ported. The difficulty with this view is that nobody seems to have 
succeeded in making any clear statement of it that is not open to 
doubt as to its justice, and that is not pretty complicated. The 
Philonian view has been preferred by the greatest logicians. Its 
advantage is that it is perfectly intelligible and simple. Its disad- 
vantage is that it produces results which seem offensive to common 
sense. 

In order to explain these positions, it is best to mention that 
possibility may be understood in many senses ; but they may all be 
embraced under the definition that that is possible which, in a cer- 
tain state of information, is not known to be false. By varying the 
supposed state of information all the varieties of possibility are ob- 
tained. Thus, essential possibility is that which supposes nothing 



THE REGENERATED LOGIC. 33 

to be known except logical rules. Substantive possibility, on the 
other hand, supposes a state of omniscience. Now the Philonian 
logicians have always insisted upon beginning the study of condi- 
tional propositions by considering what such a proposition means 
in a state of omniscience ; and the Diodorans have, perhaps not 
very adroitly, commonly assented to this order of procedure. Duns 
Scotus terms such a conditional proposition a " consequentia sim- 
plex de tnesse." According to the Philonians, " If it is now lighten- 
ing it will thunder," understood as a consequence de infsse, means 
" It is either not now lightening or it will soon thunder." Accord- 
ing to Diodorus, and most of his followers (who seem here to fall 
into a logical trap), it means it is now lightening and it will soon 
thunder. 

Although the Philonian views lead to such inconveniences as 
that it is true, as a consequence de inesse, that if the Devil were 
elected president of the United States, it would prove highly con- 
ducive to the spiritual welfare of the people (because he will not be 
elected), yet both Professor Schroder and I prefer to build the 
algebra of relatives upon this conception of the conditional propo- 
sition. The inconvenience, after all, ceases to seem important, 
when we reflect that, no matter what the conditional proposition be 
understood to mean, it can always be expressed by a complexus of 
Philonian conditionals and denials of conditionals. It may, how- 
ever, be suspected that the Diodoran view has suffered from incom- 
petent advocacy, and that if it were modified somewhat, it might 
prove the preferable one. 

The consequence de inesse, " if A is true, then B is true," is ex- 
pressed by letting * denote the actual state of things, A,- mean that 
in the actual state of things A is true, and B t mean that in the ac- 
tual state of things B is true, and then saying " If A { is true then 
B t is true," or, what is the same thing, "Either A { is not true or 
Bi is true." But an ordinary Philonian conditional is expressed by 
saying, "In any possible state of things, /, either A,- is not true, 
or BI is true." 

Now let us express the categorical proposition, "Every man is 
wise." Here, we let m t - mean that the individual object i is a man, 



34 THE MONIST. 

and Wi mean that the individual object / is wise. Then, we assert 
that, " taking any individual of the universe, /', no matter what, 
either that object, /, is not a man or that object, /', is wise"; that 
is, whatever is a man is wise. That is, " whatever /can indicate, 
either m; is not true or w { is true. The conditional and categorical 
propositions are expressed in precisely the same form ; and there is 
absolutely no difference, to my mind, between them. The form of 
relationship is the same. 

I find it difficult to state Professor Schroder's objection to this, 
because I cannot find any clear-cut, unitary conception governing 
his opinion. More than once in his first volume promises are held 
out that 28, the opening section of the second volume, shall make 
the matter plain. But when the second volume was published, all 
we found in that section was, as far as repeated examination has 
enabled me to see, as follows. First, hypothetical propositions, 
unlike categoricals, essentially involve the idea of time. When 
this is eliminated from the assertion, they relate only to two possi- 
bilities, what always is and what never is. Second, a categorical 
is always either true or false ; but a hypothetical is either true, false, 
or meaningless. Thus, "this proposition is false " is meaningless ; 
and another example is, "the weather will clear as soon as there is 
enough sky to cut a pair of trousers." Third, the supposition of 
negation is forced upon us in the study of hypotheticals, never in 
that of categoricals. Such are Schroder's arguments, to which I 
proceed to reply. 

As to the idea of time, it may be introduced ; but to say that 
the range of possibility in hypotheticals is always a unidimensional 
continuum is incorrect. "If you alone trump a trick in whist, you 
take it." The possibilities are that each of the four players plays 
any one of the four suits. There are 2 l6 different possibilities. Cer- 
tainly, the universe in hypotheticals is far more frequently finite 
than in categoricals. Besides, it is an ignoratio elenchi to drag in 
time, when no logician of the English camp has ever alleged any- 
thing about propositions involving time. That is not the question. 

Every proposition is either true or false, and something not a 
proposition, when considered as a proposition, is, from the Philo- 



THE REGENERATED LOGIC. 35 

nian point of view, true. To be objectionable, a proposition must 
assert something ; if it is merely neutral, it is not positively objec- 
tionable, that is, it is not false. "This proposition is false," far 
from being meaningless, is self-contradictory. That is, it means 
two irreconcilable things. That it involves contradiction (that is, 
leads to contradiction if supposed true), is easily proved. For if 
it be true, it is true ; while if it be true, it is false. Every proposi- 
tion besides what it explicitly asserts, tacitly implies its own truth. 
The proposition is not true unless both, what it explicitly asserts 
and what it tacitly implies, are true. This proposition, being self- 
contradictory, is false ; and hence, what it explicitly asserts is true. 
But what it tacitly implies (its own truth) is false. The difficulty 
about the proposition concerning the piece of blue sky is not a 
logical one, at all. It is no more senseless than any proposition 
about a "red odor" which might be a term of a categorical. 

The fact stated about negation is only true of the sorts of prop- 
ositions which are commonly put into categorical and hypothetical 
shapes, and has nothing to do with the essence of the propositions. 
In a paper "On the Validity of the Laws of Logic" in the Journal 
of Speculative Philosophy, Vol, II., I have given a sophistical argu- 
ment that black is white, which shows in the domain of categori- 
cals the phenomena to which Professor Schroder refers as peculiar 
to hypotheticals. 

The consequentia de inesse is, of course, the extreme case where 
the conditional proposition loses all its proper signification, owing 
to the absence of any range of possibilities. The conditional pro- 
per is, "In any possible case, /, either A,- is not true, or B f is true.-" 
In the consequence de inesse the meaning sinks to, "In the true 
state of things, /', either A f is not true or B t is true." 

My general algebra of logic (which is not that algebra of dual 
relations, likewise mine, which Professor Schroder prefers, although 
in his last volume he often uses this general algebra) consists in 
simply attaching indices to the letters of an expression in the Boolian 
algebra, making what I term a Boolian, and prefixing to this a series 
of "quantifiers," which are the letters II and 2, each with an index 
attached to it. Such a quantifier signifies that every individual of 



36 THE MONIST. 

the universe is to be substituted for the index the 77 or 2 carries, 
and that the non-relative product or aggregate of the results is to 
be taken. 

Properly to express an ordinary conditional proposition the 
quantifier 77 is required. In 1880, three years before I developed 
that general algebra, I published a paper containing a chapter on 
the algebra of the copula (a subject I have since worked out com- 
pletely in manuscript). I there noticed the necessity of such quan- 
tifiers properly to express conditional propositions ; but the algebra 
of quantifiers not being at hand, I contented myself with consider- 
ing consequences dc.inesse. Some apparently paradoxical results 
were obtained. Now Professor Schroder seems to accept these 
results as holding good in the general theory of hypotheticals ; and 
then, since such results are in strong contrast with the doctrine of 
categoricals, he infers, in 45 of his Vol. II., a great difference 
between hypotheticals and categoricals. But the truth simply is 
that such hypotheticals want the characteristic feature of condition- 
als, that of a range of possibilities. 

In connexion with this point, I must call attention to a mere 
algebraical difference between Schroder and me. I retain Boole's 
idea that there are but two values in the system of logical quantity. 
This harmonises with my use of the general algebra. Any two 
numbers may be selected to represent those values. I prefer and 
a positive logarithmic oo. To express that something is A and 
something is not A, I write : 

oo = 2 Z - A{ oo ~2j Aj 

or, what is the same thing : 

2 Ai > 2j AJ > 0. 

I have no objection to writing, as a mere abbreviation, which may, 
however, lead to difficulties, if not interpreted-. 



But Professor Schroder understands these formulae literally, and 
accordingly rejects Boole's conception of two values. He does not 
seem to understand my mode of apprehending the matter; and 



THE REGENERATED LOGIC. 37 

hence considers it a great limitation of my system that I restrict 
myself to two values. In fact, it is a mere difference of algebraical 
form of conception. I very much prefer the Boolian idea as more 
simple, and more in harmony with the general algebra of logic. 

Somewhat intimately connected with the question of the rela- 
tion between categoricals and hypotheticals is that of the quantifica- 
tion of the predicate. This is the doctrine that identity, or equality, 
is the fundamental relation involved in the copula. Holding as I 
do that the fundamental relation of logic is the illative relation, and 
that only in special cases does the premise follow from the conclu- 
sion, I have in a consistent and thoroughgoing manner opposed the 
doctrine of the quantification of the predicate. Schroder seems to 
admit some of my arguments ; but still he has a very strong penchant 
for the equation. 

Were I not opposed to the quantification of the predicate, I 
should agree with Venn that it was a mistake to replace Boole's 
operation of addition by the operation of aggregation, as most Boo- 
lians now do. I should consider the "principle of duality" rather 
an argument against than for our modern practice. The algebra of 
dual relatives would be almost identical with the theory of matrices 
were addition retained ; and this would be a great advantage. 

It is Schroder's predilection for equations which motives his 
preference for the algebra of dual relatives, namely, the fact that in 
that algebra, even a simple undetermined inequality can be ex- 
pressed as an equation. I think, too, that that algebra has merits ; 
it certainly has uses to which Schroder seldom puts it. Yet, after 
all, it has too much formalism to greatly delight me, too many 
bushels of chaff per grain of wheat. I think Professor Schroder 
likes algebraic formalism better, or dislikes it less, than I. 

He looks at the problems of logic through the spectacles of 
equations, and he formulates them, from that point of view, as he 
thinks, with great generality ; but, as I think, in a narrow spirit. 
The great thing, with him, is to solve a proposition, and get a value 
of x, that is, an equation of which x forms one member without oc- 
curring in the other. How far such equation is iconic, that is, has 
a meaning, or exhibits the constitution of x, he hardly seems to 



38 THE MONIST. 

care. He prefers general values to particular roots. Why ? I should 
think the particular root alone of service, for most purposes, unless 
the general expressions were such that particular roots could be 
deduced from it, particular instances, I mean, showing the consti- 
tution of x. In most instances, a profitable solution of a mathe- 
matical problem must consist, in my opinion, of an exhaustive ex- 
amination of special cases ; and quite exceptional are those fortu- 
nate problems which mathematicians naturally prefer to study, 
where the enumeration of special cases, together with the pertinent 
truths about them, flow so naturally from the general statement as 
not to require separate examination. 

I am very far from denying the interest and value of the prob- 
lems to which Professor Schroder has applied himself; though 
there are others to which I turn by preference. Certainly, he has 
treated his problems with admirable power and clearness. I cannot 
in this place enter into the elementary explanations which would 
be necessary to illustrate this for more than a score of readers. 

In respect to individuals, both non-relative and pairs, he has 
added some fundamental propositions to those which had been 
published. But he is very much mistaken in supposing that I have 
expressed contrary views. He simply mistakes my meaning. 

In regard to algebraical signs, I cannot accept any of Professor 
Schroder's proposals except this one. While it would be a serious 
hindrance to the promulgation of the new doctrine to insist on new 
types being cut, and while I, therefore, think my own course in 
using the dagger as the sign of relative addition must be continued, 
yet I have always given that sign in its cursive form a scorpion-tail 
curve to the left ; and it would be finical to insist on one form of 
curve rather than another. In almost all other cases, in my judg- 
ment, Professor Schroder's signs can never be generally received, 
because they are at war with a principle, the general character of 
which is such that Professor Schroder would be the last of all men 
to wish to violate it, a principle which the biologists have been led 
to adopt in regard to their systematic nomenclature. It is that pri- 
ority must be respected, or all will fall into chaos. I will not enter 
further into this matter in this article. 



THE REGENERATED LOGIC. 39 

Of what use does this new logical doctrine promise to be ? The 
first service it may be expected to render is that of correcting a 
considerable number of hasty assumptions about logic which have 
been allowed to affect philosophy. In the next place, if Kant has 
shown that metaphysical conceptions spring from formal logic, this 
great generalisation upon formal logic must lead to a new appre- 
hension of the metaphysical conceptions which shall render them 
more adequate to the needs of science. In short, "exact " logic 
will prove a stepping-stone to "exact" metaphysics. In the next 
place, it must immensely widen our logical notions. For example, 
a class consisting of a lot of things jumbled higgledy-piggledy must 
now be seen to be but a degenerate form of the more general idea 
of a system. Generalisation, which has hitherto meant passing to a 
larger class, must mean taking in the conception of the whole system 
of which we see but a fragment, etc., etc. In the next place, it is 
already evident to those who know what has already been made out, 
that that speculative rhetoric, or objective logic, mentioned at the 
beginning of this article, is destined to grow into a colossal doctrine 
which may be expected to lead to most important philosophical 
conclusions. Finally, the calculus of the new logic, which is ap- 
plicable to everything, will certainly be applied to settle certain 
logical questions of extreme difficulty relating to the foundations of 
mathematics. Whether or not it can lead to any method of discov- 
ering methods in mathematics it is difficult to say. Such a thing is 
conceivable. 

It is now more than thirty years since my first published con- 
tribution to " exact " logic. Among other serious studies, this has 
received a part of my attention ever since. I have contemplated it 
in all sorts of perspectives and have often reviewed my reasons for 
believing in its importance. My confidence that the key of philos- 
ophy is here, is stronger than ever after reading Schroder's last vol- 
ume. One thing which helps to make me feel that we are develop- 
ing a living science, and not a dead doctrine, is the healthy mental 
independence it fosters, as evidenced, for example, in the divergence 
between Professor Schroder's opinions and mine. There is no bo- 
vine nor ovine gregariousness here. But Professor Schroder and 



40 THE M ON I ST. 

I have a common method which we shall ultimately succeed in ap- 
plying to our differences, and we shall settle them to our common 
satisfaction ; and when that method is pouring in upon us new and 
incontrovertible positively valuable results, it will be as nothing to 
either of us to confess that where he had not yet been able to apply 
that method he has fallen into error. 

C. S. PEIRCE. 
NEW YORK CITY. 



FROM BERKELEY TO HEGEL 

A CHAPTER OF THE HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY EM- 

BODYING A CRITIQUE OF THE PANLOGIST 

PHASE OF IDEALISM. 

TO 6' av~6 eoriv // /far' kvipyetav eTriari/fitj r^~ 
TT pay pan. Aristotle. 

\ CCORDING to Schopenhauer, Berkeley is to be viewed as the 
* "father of Idealism which is the foundation of all true pbi- 
losoph}''," a tribute which probably voices the opinion of a very 
large number of persons. In sober truth, however, this tribute is 
misleading. Plato, Aristotle (whose idealistic leanings Berkeley 
himself noted with approval 1 ), and Plotinus among the ancients ; 
Descartes, Malebranche, etc., etc., among modern philosophers all 
had a share in the making of Idealism, and their claims to notice 
cannot be summarily dismissed in the fashion favored by Schopen- 
hauer. Indeed, modern Idealism is a river with numerous sources. 
And Idealism as a whole is not only of great antiquity, but the 
forms which it has assumed are most varied. It cannot be traced 
back to any one originator. None the less, however, is the value 
of Berkeley's work to be emphasised. We may well honor him as 
the first of modern thinkers who gave the ground-principle of Ideal- 
ism its full due, asserting as he did without show of reservation that 
empirical Reality, as well " physical " as "mental, "is simply a 
presentment for consciousness. It is in championing this truth and 
exposing at the same time the fallacies of vulgar realism that his 



>. 304-329- 



42 THE MONIST. 

permanent contribution to philosophy consists. Some luminous 
psychological work apart, his other achievements are of scant value 
and show poorly alongside the more thorough thinking of the Ger- 
mans. His positive metaphysic inspired, it would appear, by his 
study of the Greeks and designed to proffer a merely improved ren- 
dering of the particular form of Theism current in his time, pos- 
sesses no more than a historic interest. To-day even Idealistic 
Theists look for light not to Berkeley, but rather to the leaders of 
the Hegelian " Right." However, the obsoleteness of the form of 
Theism, which he upheld, should in no way diminish our admira- 
tion of the beauty and force of his criticism of vulgar realism. If 
I may be allowed to cite what I have urged elsewhere, " He showed 
in sun-clear language that perception and its objects are insepar- 
able ; that the world is as truly suspended in consciousness as is 
the most subtle of thoughts or emotions. It is this emphatic preach- 
ing of Idealism which ennobles him. Others before him had been 
Idealists, but none gave so luminous a defence of their faith." 1 
Idealism is, of course, a term of wide import embracing strangely 
opposed schools of thought, but it may be confidently averred that 
"subjective," "sceptical," "critical," "psychological," " panlo- 
gist," etc., etc., idealists will all alike, when pressed, concede their 
indebtedness to the stimulus given by Berkeley. Sometimes, it is 
true, we note a tendency to patronise the Bishop, and Kant him- 
self is not altogether innocent in this regard, but the attempts de- 
ceive nobody. Well has it been said that but for Berkeley there 
would have been no Hume and but for Hume no Kant. Aye, and 
but for Kant, Fichte, Schelling, Hegel, Schopenhauer, and many 
of the leading idealists of to-day might never have caught the sparks 
that kindled their genius. 

Z/zsr Hal Tpls TO Ka\ov. In studying Berkeley one is apt to 
think him a "padder," a thinker who beats out a few grains of gold 
so as to cover acres. The answer is, of course, that he spoke as a 
pioneer ; as an innovator who had to win adhesion to first principles 
before venturing to construct an elaborate system. Owing to the 

1 Riddle of the Universe, p. 51. 



FROM BERKELEY TO HEGEL. 43 

stupidity of his critics he had to waste time over the A B C of Ideal- 
ism and to keep on restating one or two main points almost ad 
nauseam. That he felt desirous of completing a regular system we 
may fairly argue from the Sin's, which certainly is an ambitious ad- 
vance on the earlier works. But not even that advance, notable 
as in many ways it is, redeems his philosophy from sketchiness. 
"Without is within, says Berkeley. Let it be so, says Hegel, and 
philosophy has still to begin. The same things that were called 
without or noumenal are now called within or phenomenal, but, call 
them as you may, it is their systematic explanation that is wanted. 
Such systematic explanation, embracing man and the entire round 
of his experiences ... is alone philosophy, and to that no repeti- 
tion of without is within, or matter is phenomenal, will ever prove 
adequate." 1 Berkeley of course really says more than this, but it 
will scarcely be disputed that it is his " without is within " rather 
than his metaphysical constructions, few and faulty as they are, 
that gives him his influence in philosophy. His standpoint, owing 
to the sketchiness above noted is one of a class the antithesis of 
that including Hegel it admits of presentation in a short space. 
He is a Nominalist, and disciple of Locke who starts from the 
" given" from experience yet with a wish as Churchman to get 
somehow satisfactorily beyond this " given." No word- jugglery, 
however, for him ; the discipline of Empiricism has pruned that 
bias, he must think in the presence of the object, not of mere phan- 
toms of verbal thought. The start, then, is from experience, viewed 
at first from a quite Humean standpoint, 2 but latterly from that of 
an individualistic idealism. "The world is my presentment," mat- 
ter a general name connoting phases of objects which are them- 
selves only "ideas" or modes of consciousness this contention is 
driven home persistently. The doubt that the seemingly individual 
" Ego " may possibly have to be resolved into a Universal Ego does 

1 Hutchison Stirling Notes to Schwegler's History of Philosophy, p. 419, 8th 
edition. 

2 The Mind (Ego) is described in the Commonplace Book as a " congeries of per- 
ceptions" only in a later stage as that which has the perceptions. It is, of course, 
this phase of Berkeley that Hume subsequently developed. 



44 THE MONIST. 

not trouble him. So far, then, so good. Seeing, however, that ob- 
jects are ideas, modes of consciousness, why are they presented in 
the fashion in which we experience them? They appear, is the reply, 
not as mere modes of self-unfolding Egos, but as results of the 
working on these egos of a Divine Mind of an intellect, an actus 
tiurus, in which the archetypes of all ideas of sense hang realiter. 
There is a multiplicity of subordinate individual Egos which know 
multiple worlds, all resolvable into shadowy ectypal phases of these 
luminous Archetypal Ideas. Berkeley tells us in the Sin's that 
"sense implies an impression from some other being and denotes a 
dependence in the soul which hath it. Sense is a passion ; and pas- 
sions imply imperfection. God knoweth all things as pure mind 
or intellect ; but nothing by sense nor through a Sensory " (Siris, 
289). Proceeding on these lines, he approximates to a system 
of Platonic Ideas upheld in a Supreme Idea, and transformed by it 
in part and obscurely to us individuals. Still there is a very not- 
able contrast to be indicated. Berkeley's IDEAS are in no way 
the empty abstractions re-ified by Plato ; indeed, the worship of 
" Universals " (those makeshifts of our weak intellects striving to 
extend their empire by way of symbols and words} would have been 
inconsistent with his sturdy Nominalism. Such preposterous fig- 
ments as "Likeness," "Greatness," "Smallness," and like hypos- 
tatised attributes have no interest for him. Not shadowy Univer- 
sals, but concrete, stable, unitary archetypes of the concrete but 
transient objects present in our numerically different worlds consti- 
tute his quarry. Thus the many Vesuvii present in the conscious- 
ness of human percipients are for him ectypes only of the complete 
archetype Vesuvius which obtains in the Divine Mind, and in which 
we share only in a most confused and imperfect manner. The so- 
lution is certainly compatible with Nominalism. The Berkeleyan 
Archetype is not a vague Platonic abstraction, such as "volcanicity" 
or "magnitude," but a particular, though an exceedingly complex, 
object in the consciousness of God. And unlike Plato's idle Uni- 
versals, it is conceived as energising freely on us, thereby calling 
into reality the phenomenal or ectypal object we know. 

The history of Idealism necessarily comprises that controversy 



FROM BERKELEY TO HEGEL. 45 

as to "Relations," latterly so emphasised, and, I must add, ab- 
surdly complicated and confused by German Epistemologists. 
Berkeley's attitude in this regard is instructive. At the outset of 
his thinking he was obviously too absorbed in his analysis of "Mat- 
ter" and "visual space" to notice the as yet unexposed blemishes 
in Locke's Theory of Experience. He was content to view the de- 
velopment of perception out of space and time-ordered sensations 
much as did Locke, save that he laid more stress on what would 
be now called " Association " as interpreter of sense, and distin- 
guished most ably between the space of our mature, and the space 
of our dawning, consciousness. Locke's obscurities touching " Ideas 
of Relation" in general seem to have at first quite escaped his no- 
tice. It is interesting, therefore, to detect in his later work, the 
Sin's, gleams of what may almost be termed Kantian thinking, 
and the obvious weakening of his old sensationalist bias ; a bias 
which in his case, as in many others, in no way impaired his loyalty 
to idealism. "Strictly the Sense knows nothing" ( 253). "As 
Understanding perceiveth not, so Sense knoweth not" ( 305). 
And how suggestively he alludes to the tabula rasa doctrine. "Some 
perhaps may think the truth to be this : that there are properly 
no ideas or passive objects in the mind but what were derived from 
sense, but that there are also besides those her own acts or opera- 
tions ; such as notions" ( 308). One is here within measurable dis- 
tance of the Kantian Categories. I say measurable only because 
these notions are still present in the vaguest possible way and in- 
deed grew wholly out of Berkeley's studies of Platonism (so mark- 
edly apparent in the Sin's}, not out of the so notably novel episte- 
mological way of viewing things which yielded Kant's Critique. Still 
Berkeley evinces a distinct tendency to substitute intelligi for per dpi 
as the support even of our ectypal imperfect worlds. 

Idealism is the only possible form of a competent metaphysic, 
this view, if left somewhat indeterminate, it is Berkeley's signal 
merit to have emphasised. But his Theological rendering of Ideal- 
ism is faulty. The Berkeleyan Deity is advanced as a theologian's 
substitute for the "stupid, thoughtless somewhat" which Locke 
posited as the substance of objects and cause of our sensations. 



46 THE MONIST. 

And the positing of this Deity as cause of the said sensations in- 
volves an assumption, nowhere adequately vindicated by Berkeley, 
to wit., that of the transcendent validity of Causality, i. e. the be- 
lief that the notion of cause and effect can be used, not only within 
the confines of experience, but also to explain experience itself as 
caused by an agency or agencies beyond its pale. A consistent em- 
piricism cannot accommodate this truly portentous assumption. 
That our sensations must have a cause beyond ourselves who have 
them is a view requiring close criticism. And that the cause is a 
Personal Deity, himself no sensating Ego but a purely intellectual be- 
ing, who somehow affects us across a void, is a further development 
of hypothesis, open to still more exacting criticism. 

In mooting his theory of Sensations Berkeley observes that 
their cause must be sought in spirit, " since of that we are conscious 
as active, yet not in the spirit of which we are conscious, since 
there would be then no difference between real and imaginary ideas; 
therefore in a Divine Spirit." But it is not at all necessary to seek 
for the cause in the conscious segments of our Egos or "spirits," for 
nobody believes that we consciously originate our sensations. It 
may well be urged that the said Egos or "spirits," like Leibnitz- 
ian monads, evolve both their sensations and ideas out of them- 
selves, only attaining self-awareness or consciousness as result of their 
self -activity. Berkeley himself admits that the Ego is not an "idea," 
but rather that which has ideas. Why, then, should not this veiled 
Ego produce sensations for itself and fusing with, and opposing to, 
these the requisite "imaginary " ideas, suspend a perfectly satis- 
factory microcosm within itself? Such a view would at least allow 
him to dispense with an uncritical assumption of the transcendent 
validity of Causality. He would not then depart from the closed 
circle of the individual Ego, for which the Experience, which has 
to be interpreted, obtains. 

This Theological Idealism is, therefore, improperly established 
at the outset. Nor, while thus improperly established, does it con- 
stitute even a good working explanation of Reality. Exposition of 
a coherent, slowly -unfolding world-whole, in some way common to, and 
the nursery of, all percipients is denied us. The actual world, the 



FROM BERKELEY TO HEGEL. 47 

world known to science and "common sense," is for Berkeley only 
a series of transient perceptions in us and animals, an aggregate of 
phenomena that come and go in the consciousness of numerically 
different "spirits." Nature is a tangle of broken, one-sided, and 
very limited experiences in us and like dependent individuals ; the 
history of the solar system, aeons of which, as science and common 
sense hold, preceded the evolution of our consciousness, is demol- 
ished at a stroke. It may, indeed, be urged that Berkeley has pos- 
ited an archetypal Nature in the Divine Mind ; a Nature, the tsse 
of which is not dependent on percipi, so far at any rate as men, an- 
imals, etc., are concerned ; and that this Nature is competent to 
furnish a full explanation of the standing of the "ectypal" worlds 
we know. The difficulty, however, is to show how this timeless 
unitary and complete Nature is dovetailed with the time-conditioned^ 
numerically- different, and miserably fragmentary Natures which are 
suspended in the consciousness of human and lower egos. We have 
here a problem which was never solved, or, to the best of my knowl- 
edge, even confronted by Berkeley. 

We may here indicate a further difficulty, one, however, by no 
means peculiar to the theological idealism of Berkeley. What is 
the ultimate ground of the egos or "spirits" on which the Deity is 
said to imprint sensations? Is this ground God himself? Berkeley 
and some influential moderns are of this opinion. But surely it is 
absurd to posit any individual, however exalted, as the ground of 
individuals who in respect of their bare individuality are necessarily 
other than himself ? One centre of consciousness may affect other 
centres of consciousness, but how is it that the latter are in situ to 
be affected at all? If, on the other hand, God is not the ultimate 
ground of the Egos we seem driven to accept Pluralism, or to posit 
a deeper principle of which Deity and the Egos are alike mere 
aspects, a principle not in itself conscious as prius, but withal the 
source of consciousness. And this last consideration opens up a 
theme of momentous importance with bearings not only on a pass- 
ing system such as Berkeleyanism, but on the interpretation of 
Idealism for all time. It has been voiced in varied phases by many 



48 THE MONIST. 

writers ; for the present let us consider its purport in the regard of 
Berkeley. 

That my or Smith's consciousness has had a history, that we 
as self-cognitive beings arose in time, is certain. Or to put the 
matter otherwise, at the present moment our Egos, in Berkeleyan 
phraseology, have " ideas/' that is to say feel, think, and perceive. 
But feelings, thoughts, and perceptions are ever coming and going 
and if we trace their sequences back far enough we shall reach by 
inference a point when our Egos had no conscious experience at all. 
What, then, of these Egos posited as devoid of a consciously known 
content as unprovided by Deity with sensations? Obviously we 
reach consciousless centres ; hence, if we wish to retain multiple 
Berkeleyan Egos, we must retain them not as conscious spirits, but 
rather as Leibnitzian monads, potentially but not necessarily always 
actually conscious. But this is not all. One of the great objections 
that wars against the Theism of Leibnitz wars against that of 
Berkeley. On what grounds is a conscious " Mind " posited as prius 
of the Reality imparted to these multiple Egos ? If Berkeley requires 
an "active power," not inherent in the Egos themselves, to ac- 
count for sensations, why must that Power be assumed as conscious 
rather than METACONSCIOUS ? If Experience is to be his guide, he 
ought not, of course, to overstep it by means of a notion (causality) 
borrowed uncritically from it. But even had his use of this Notion 
been vindicated, he ought to have borne in mind that Experience 
reveals every known conscious individual or "empirical ego" as 
arising in time, the actual as always a mere oasis in the potential, 
that our very perceptions of objects are replete with ideas of sen- 
sations which may be, but are not, realised, that the area of con- 
sciousness even in the case of a Titan of knowledge is always at any 
given moment most narrow. Experience in fact is all in favor of 
the Metaconscious as prius of the conscious, not, therefore, in favor 
of a Theistic Idealism. I am aware, however, that many neo- 
Hegelians view consciousness as the "form of eternity," and that 
Berkeley is on this count in very good modern company. By these 
thinkers, as by Berkeley, Reality, grasped in inadequate and incon- 
sistent pieces by us, is viewed as all-together in a conscious God, a 



FROM BERKELEY TO HKCKI.. 49 

self-thinking " Idea " for which potentiality is not. And the " Idea " 
thus championed is regarded as the fast's of advanced religion^ of that 
religion which has been defined as "philosophy speaking naively." 
It appears to me that this position is not only untenable on philo- 
sophic grounds, but of no service to sentiment, to advanced religion, 
" natural" or other. On the lines of idealistic Theism, the " Idea" 
must be the fountain-head of all, note it well, all cosmic activities. 
And surely we cannot soberly and honestly worship an "Idea" 
supposed to ideate cruelties, diseases, obscenities, and all the grim 
defects of this planet as phases of its complete reality ! Is not the 
sneer of Schopenhauer relevant here? Is the " Idea " that "thinks" 
the drama of the snake and the squirrel, when something else might 
be thought, a fit object of reverence ? Of a surety Dualism, not an 
idealistic-Theistic Monism, is the prop of the ordinary religionist. 
Had Berkeley I note one glimpse only in Sir is, 257 sus- 
pected that consciousness is only a flower on a stem fed by roots in 
the METACONSCIOUS, he might have achieved a notable advance on his 
earlier theory of Matter. After all it is only against vulgar Realism 
with its re-ified Abstraction "Matter" that his idealist polemic 
holds good. As against " unperceived objects" alleged to be re- 
sisting extensions inhering in a surd "substance," it is decisive 
enough. But as against such objects viewed as potential modes of 
consciousness, as metaconscious spiritual activities, it is irrelevant. 
For instance a Nature-philosophy such as that of Schelling may 
well posit objects that have never yet been, and indeed may never 
be, mirrored in the consciousness of percipients, and nevertheless 
maintain its idealism intact. Aristotle (who verges on Absolute 
Idealism) identifies, it is true, actual knowledge with what is known, 
but he does not for all that make my teapot's whole standing depend- 
ent on my passing perceptions. He backs the actual with the poten- 
tial. 1 Berkeley's error here was to place all movement solely within 



1 If Aristotle's standpoint is to be attained, the distinction between potential 
existence (h 8wdfii} and actual existence (h tvrehexeia, i~v ivepyttg) must always be 
borne in mind. Actual knowledge for him coincides with the thing known, but, 
nevertheless, the thing when unknown may possess a potential existence quite in- 
dependent of our consciousness. It is to be noted, however, that Aristotle does not 



50 THE MONIST. 

consciousness in the actual ignoring the alternative that the well- 
springs of consciousness may be traced to the Metaconscious, (whether 
logically symbolised or otherwise). Hence his belief that his Ideal- 
ism was to sound the death-knell of Atheism and Scepticism. He 
destroyed and rightly destroyed the philosophers' "Matter," and 
showed that an extra-experiential ground of objects, if we are to 
conceive or even discuss one at all, must be posited as spiritual. What 
he overlooked was the consideration that spiritual activities the 
only admissible ground may be not only conscious but meta or 
super-conscious. This oversight is sharply rebuked by the subse- 
quent history of philosophy. Thus Schopenhauer is an admirer of 
Berkeley, is strictly idealist, but a votary to all intents and purposes 
of that very Atheism which the Bishop so strenuously sought to 
overthrow ! 

So much, then, for the positive metaphysic of Berkeley. Ideal- 
ism changes its garb with Hume. He is Berkeley minus the Divine 
Mind and the subordinate Egos, professes to view Experience, 
inner and outer, as a stream of atomistic "perceptions" or states. 
Locke's old theory of "Relations" is worked out to the bitter end 
the current empiricism exploited to the full a general "loosen- 
ing'' of Reality effected. We may term him an Agnostic Idealist, 
and note with interest his influence on Kant, which, by the way, 
extended to other issues than the Causality-problem mentioned by 
the Konigsberg philosopher. The Dryasdusts of university chairs 
are apt to dwell too exclusively on the more academic phases of 
Hume's thinking. His contributions to philosophy in general have 
proved of great value to later writers, including agnostics and meta- 
physicians alike, classes of thinkers who do not usually drink at the 
same fountain. 

The next step in Idealism we find in Kant. What, in brief, is 
his standpoint? It is a novel subjective idealism (qualified by a 
sometimes hesitating acceptance of "things-in-themselves"), allied 
with a Thought- Theory of Experience, vaguely, very vaguely antici- 



carry this doctrine of potentiality as far as he might have done, for his Ultimate 
Creative Intellect or Deity is actus purus, completely actual or conscious. 



FROM BERKELEY TO HEGEL. 5! 

pated by Berkeley (vide supra). On Kant's showing, Sensations 
unified in Space and Time are subsumed under a priori Notions or 
Categories and forthwith emerge as Experience, as that very Real 
World, back to which the psychologists had traced the sources of 
knowledge. Empirical realism is taught, for are not objects imme- 
diate facts, transcendental idealism, for these facts again are but 
modes of a knowing consciousness. Experience is constituted by 
necessary relations, but cannot be transcended. Touching soul, 
rational cosmic lore and Deity, we must, as speculative reasoners, 
be agnostic. Still, despite Kant's speculative agnosticism, the 
germs of a Hegel are here Categories or Concepts, though not yet 
worked up into a system, appear as prius of Nature and the inner 
psychological order or "Mind." Kant is puzzled, it is true, when 
he deals with the crux of the rise of sensations, failing which he 
says, Categories are empty; but the resort to occult Things-in- 
themselves to account for them is obviously erroneous. On his own 
showing Causality must not be used transcendently his Idealism 
is debarred from flying to surds of this kind. Has he not also pro- 
claimed the need of deducing all reality from a single principle ? 
Eager to demolish the belief in Things-in-themselves and to deduce 
Reality from the required single principle, uprises Fichte and spins 
Reality, sensations, space, time, and the categories alike out of 
Kant's pure Ego now exalted to the rank of an Absolute Reason 
or I as Universal, as the ground of all modes of empirical con- 
sciousness. The Absolute Ego posits a non-Ego within itself re- 
flects itself into itself makes itself its own object that it may real- 
ise its freedom in concreto hence a world and individuals driven 
by the moral law to abolish this world. Fichte's doctrine of per- 
ception is not subjective idealism proper; he places Reality only 
in the Absolute common Ego. The Things-in-themselves are repu- 
diated, hence Epistemology and Ontology kiss one another. Nature 
is ideally real, reflects only obstructed activities of this Ego, posses- 
ses in fact no show of independent standing. To empirical indi- 
viduals this Nature necessarily seems foreign, yet, after all, it is 
but a self-limitation of the Universal Reason revealed in and bot- 
toming them. This solution, plausible in many ways, will not, 



52 THE MONIST. 

however, enable us to rethink science satisfactorily. Ideal-Realism 
requires an amendment, and Schelling comes forward as propotmder 
of one. Mind and nature, ideal and real, are by him treated as 
having equal claims to recognition, as sides of an underlying Unity 
we have the system of Absolute Identity. Schelling's Absolute, 
however, is no Spinozist indeterminate Substance, but rather 
Fichte's Absolute Ego or Reason, and of this mind and nature are 
revelations of coequal standing. One of Schelling's signal merits 
is his development of the doctrine of " unconscious intelligence" 
(first prominently espoused by Leibnitz among moderns), which 
enables him to assert a world-order prior to consciousness and to 
give Nature generally a free swing without prejudice to idealism. 
The thing-in-itself as surd is no more present here than with Fichte ; 
but besides objects presented in actuality as lit up by consciousness 
there are to be admitted objects in potentiality as "unripe intelli- 
gence." This objective "Real-Idealism" admits that the object 
may be in itself far richer than the object as mirrored in conscious- 
ness, and further views consciousness itself with its ideal and real 
aspects as emergent in a time-process from Nature. It is in the 
human brain that Nature first returns fully on herself, "whence it 
is clear that Nature is primarily identical with that which is realised 
as consciousness and intelligence." On the side of the latter the 
"ideal," on that of Nature the "real," aspect of the Absolute Rea- 
son is dominant. On these positions hinges that part of Schelling's 
theory of Perception which has materially influenced his successors. 
Details and later developments must be omitted. Passing on to 
Hegel, we note the complete exploitation of the Category-theory of 
Experience broached by Kant and absorption and amendment of 
previous idealist standpoints generally, which invite close atten- 
tion. No one now, I presume, regards either Fichte or Schelling 
in the light of infallible Masters, however illuminative they may 
prove, but on the contrary many of our most acute modern think- 
ers are practically disciples of Hegel. Indeed, Panlogism is viewed 
by many critics as destined to stand or fall with his system. It 
may, therefore, prove of interest to dwell at some length on his 
standpoint and subsequently to indicate in what directions success- 



FROM BERKELEY TO HEGEL. 



53 



ful amendments of it have been made, or are likely to be made in 
the future. The first requisite, however, of any advance is full re- 
alisation of the stage one has to leave behind. Let me endeavor, 
therefore, to trace briefly according to my lights the leading causes 
which seem to have mediated the imposing structure of Hegel. 
This structure embodies, to my thinking, one of the greatest de- 
lusions of philosophy that of the Concept viewed as prius a the- 
ory which has led countless inquirers astray, and justifies in great 
measure the bitter polemic of a Schopenhauer. Nevertheless, the 
delusion colors much of ancient, and more still of mediaeval and mod- 
ern speculation. To assail it effectively, one must confront it in its 
most definite and pronounced form. Hence Hegel's importance for 
critics. He is nothing, if not a Panlogist, and in assailing him we 
assail Panlogism in its most ambitious form ; in Hegel, in fact, we 
confront the protagonist of exploiters of the Concept, of that 
standpoint which upholds Reason as prius of reality. We are all 
familiar with his amazing grasp of Method and unflinching cham- 
pionship of Reason as "sovereign of the world." And most of us 
would probably admit that, if Reason is really sovereign, his sys- 
tem must on all fundamental counts be right. Reason will prob- 
ably never find a more interesting and methodic champion than 
Hegel, indeed most philosophic advocates of the sovereignty of 
Reason view his Logic, Nature-philosopliy, and Philosophy of Spirit 
as in general outlines valid, though they may need, and notably the 
Nature-philosophy, extensive alterations in the matter of details. 
Hegel, therefore, is the special objective of those who, like myself, 
reject reason as Prius. 

I do not propose here to summarise Hegelianism. The articu- 
lation of that system is such as scarcely to admit of a summary. 
Assuming my readers' conversance with the system, I shall first 
note very briefly the source of its germinal ideas and then indicate 
various leading points touching which the Metaphysic of the future 
must, in my opinion, oppose it. 

" Kant's Categories form really the Substance of Hegel" ob- 
serves Dr. Stirling. And obviously the system would be meaning- 
less to all who have ignored Kant. Categories viewed as logical 



54 THE MONIST. 

articulation of the Idea as timeless prius in the " Logic "; categories 
viewed as externalised in the contingent particularity of Nature 
(that ratio mersa et confusd}, categories viewed as realised in the 
at-one-ment of the Idea with itself as Mind or Spirit surely these 
universal thought-forms or notions are indeed the " substance " 
of Hegel. But the " substance " thus accurately indicated has 
"modes" which a mere reference to Kant will not, of course, ac- 
count for. Hegelianism as avowedly a synthesis, the " truth "of 
a series of varied world-historic standpoints, had to include much 
more than Kant. And it is here that an illuminative fact crops out. 
While nominally inclusive of all the standpoints, Hegelianism ab- 
sorbs some with peculiar relish. Prominent among these are those 
of Plato and Aristotle. Plato's Universal or Idea is no doubt so 
formal as to be only attained at the cost of sacrificing and really 
leaving unexplained the concrete spheres of "world" and "mind" 
we know. But for all that it is a bold, if in many ways, halting 
attempt to exhibit the concept as prius, and on that account spe- 
cially stimulating to an avid student of Kant such as was Hegel. 
Here in Plato was the inadequately realised but most suggestive 
endeavor to identify reality with Thought ; there in Kant's category- 
doctrine (when amplified and dialectically developed) lay the secret 
of how the identification was to be effected. The stimulus once 
given, rationalisation of the entire range of Reality as we have it 
to the exclusion of all the old surds became the ambition of the Ger- 
man thinker. "It may be admitted," writes Dr. Stirling, "that 
there are in Plato partial efforts towards a single plastic element or 
energy, a single all of thought, whose distinctions were constitutive 
pairs of fluent notions." And we shall further recall that belief in 
a relationship of notions or concepts, which admits of logical passage 
from one to the other without reference to crass fact, is an undeniable 
position of Plato. Dialectic as treating of the relations of these 
notions is also his ontology. The standing of the flux of nature and 
mind as explained by Hegel was also in part probably suggested by 
Plato. Categories, the unitary universal notions "realising them- 
selves in multiplicity," as projected into the sphere of crass contin- 
gent phenomena, recall the Platonic notions which appear as if 



FROM BERKELEY TO HEGEL. 55 

broken into a manifold in their shadowy copies in the sense-world. 
Much else offers itself for mention, but enough has been said to en- 
able us to enter a preliminary caution. If the headquarters of 
Hegel lie in Plato, and if, as we know, Plato is the philosopher of 
abstractionism, suspicions must arise that the contaminated head- 
waters have carried their infection far down stream. And these 
suspicions are to my thinking validated by facts. Great as Plato 
has been as a stimulus to thought, he is avowedly an abstractionist 
of the most daring kind, and the abuse of notions traceable to him 
has, I believe, fouled the whole history of philosophy, but most 
notably that part claiming Hegel and the Hegelians. Let us con- 
sider for a moment the genesis of the notion-controversy and realise 
out of what really trivial antecedents this exaggerated respect for 
the " labor of the notion *' arose. Let us go back to Socrates. In 
quest of the clarification of men's thoughts with a mainly ethical 
end, clear knowledge implying for him virtue, what did he effect? 
He did nothing (his personal influence apart) but teach men by 
way of rigid definition and the "irony "that their verbal thinking 
was confused and that the attainment and use of names with clearly 
thought applications and implications was imperative. The clari- 
fied concepts which he ushered into use came however insensibly 
and by a natural illusion to seem more real than the particulars to 
which they referred they were the wheat of reality, the rest was 
chaff. Hence Plato (with an eye also to reconciling current sys- 
tems or rather patches of thought) hypostatised, and extended them, 
and finally set up a Dialectic or Ontology touching their "in- 
telligible " relations. Hence again arose the modifications intro- 
duced by Aristotle, endless mediaeval disputations and the later 
notion-philosophies, the upshot of which has been the darkening of 
the problems treated in a manner that has tended to make all meta- 
physic seem ridiculous, a "splendid folly" as a famous agnostic 
would put it. There can be little doubt that on the fatal hypostasis 
of the concept and the preposterous importance attached to con- 
cepts generally an importance which their abstractness should 
never allow us to overrate rests the responsibility for most of the 
existing disgust with metaphysic. In view of the known inadequacy 



56 THE MONIST. 

of content of concepts considered in relation to their concrete ob- 
jects, we ought to require very strong evidence before invoking con- 
cepts of any kind m plumbing the source of Reality. The danger of 
mistaking the shadow for the substance is obvious. Concepts of 
the empirical kind are only of value in so far as they facilitate our 
grasp of presented or re-presented Reality ; they are a delusion and 
a snare if made ends in themselves and give rise to the word-juggler 
and schoolman. The " Universals " of the metaphysician must, 
therefore, be viewed with suspicion at the outset. 

The hints gleaned by Hegel from Aristotle were numerous. 
The timeless Creative Intellect, the "eternally complete" active 
Reason which is ground, support, and presupposition of thoughts 
and things, the doctrines of form and matter and drift towards Ab- 
solute Idealism, the immanence of Universals in things explanatory 
of the world-stir (from which Plato's inert Ideas, like epicurean 
gods, had been clumsily held aloof), the soul as realising essence 
and "truth" of body, the allocation of a domain to "chance," (as 
opposed to rational productivity) in the world-order ; the view that 
the higher manifestation may include the lower, and that the last 
in time may be the metaphysical first, and many other points de- 
serve mention. The Aristotelian doctrine that Universals indwell 
and energise in things, amending the Platonic view, curiously re- 
calls the post-Kantian treatment of the categories amending the 
view of Kant categories being made immanent in, instead of be- 
ing superimposed on, phenomena. This, however, by the way. 

To be aware of the inspiring ideas of any given system, is to 
have in large part explained it. Any thinker with a long life and 
ordinary industry is capable of developing his standpoint in the 
detail, but he does not ordinarily add much to the stock of germ- 
inal ideas with which he sets out. Hence the fundamental impor- 
tance of tracing the pedigree of these ideas. In the case of Hegel- 
ianism, the germinal ideas bearing on Panlogism seem to proceed 
almost wholly out of Plato, Aristotle, Kant, Fichte, and Schelling. 
And of these masters the two former, at any rate, are both tainted 
with formalism. Not unreasonably, then, should we anticipate that 
"misleading stress on the abstract universal," with which even Dr. 



FROM BERKELEY TO HEGEL. 57 

Stirling charges the Hegelian Logic. The most influential teach- 
ers of Greece, more reliable guides in the view of Hegel's contem- 
poraries than they are for us, must have inoculated him effectually 
with the bias. 

Originality, it has been well said, consists in first absorbing 
other people's thoughts. 1 Hegel's indebtedness to Kant's "Ana- 
lytic" and "Dialectic," to Fichte's Transcendental deduction and 
transformation of the categories into conditions of experience pos- 
ited by Absolute Thinking, to Schelling's objective idealism, po- 
tence-scheme, and view of the world-history as revelation of the 
Absolute, etc., etc., and to Jacob Bohme, is notorious. If he de- 
veloped much, he received much. His rehabilitation of Reason as 
against the later mysticism of Schelling, his improvements and 
striking use of the Dialectical Method, and his attempt to rethink, 
(and to exhibit the sovereignty of Reason in) all the main depart- 
ments of Human Experience constitute his striking work. I shall 
now briefly consider some of the leading objections which bear 
upon his positions, more especially as interpreted by the conserva- 
tives of the Right wing of his school. Space will not allow me to 
exhaust these objections, but I trust that the defects of treatment 
which may be observable, will be accompanied by suggestions of 
compensatory value. 

THE PROBLEM OF THEISM. 

As interpreted by the Hegelian Right, the Idea is a conscious 
Prius, an intelligible unitary actuality as opposed to a mere poten- 
tiality or "initselfness" of subjectivity. We arrive thus at Green's 
"eternally complete" consciousness; only time-severed patches of 
the rational whole constituting its content being revealed to us em- 
pirical individuals, each of whom, however, reproduces aspects of 
the rational whole in his mind and comes in time to recognise ex- 
plicitly as rational what was ever implicitly this. In the course of 
this reproduction it "uses the sentient life of the soul as its or- 
gan" (Green, Proleg. to Ethics}. A thinker of this school would, 

1 Professor Nicholson. 



58 THE MONIST. 

no doubt, agree heartily with Schopenhauer's remark, "An imper- 
sonal God is no God at all but a misapplied word." And it must, 
I think, be conceded that a Hegelian who professes a religious con- 
servatism, but declines withal to admit that the Idea as prius is 
conscious, is in an awkward quandary. If one thing is more cer- 
tain than another, it is the fact that conservative religionists in 
Europe, rightly or wrongly, require the retention of a conscious per- 
sonal God as the author and sustainer of Reality. An impersonal 
fontal Reason may do duty as the basis of an Idealistic Atheism, 
but proffered as the philosophical rendering of the Christian's God 
it is absurd. 

There are, however, so-called Hegelian Theists who, while 
accepting an Impersonal IDEA or REASON as prius, profess to find 
God in the "Absolute Idea," that is to say in the Idea or Reason 
as realised or made explicit in philosophy, art, science, and history 
as a whole, an unfoldment which is realised in its turn through 
"finite spirits," such as we. I fail, however, to see in what man- 
ner a God of this kind can be regarded as constituting the ideal of 
the religionist, the man who attends churches, and believes in the 
efficacy of prayer, and the variety of dogmas embraced under the 
name of Christianity. But let this pass. I have now merely to 
point out that such a God cannot be regarded as either infinite or 
necessarily eternal. Not infinitude but (if I may use the term) in- 
definitude "foams from the goblet" of a "spirit-empire" realised 
through individuals. As the "finite spirits" come and go, advance 
and decline, so, too, must this God wax and wane. He is subject 
to so low a category as Quantity. However numerous and advanced 
the "finite spirits" may be, they could always be conceived as more 
numerous and more advanced, and the "spirit-empire" conse- 
quently as susceptible of fuller development. God would, there- 
fore, never exhaust, never fully realise in Himself the infinite po- 
tentialities of manifestation latent in the Impersonal Reason, would, 
therefore, be only indefinite, not infinite. And His eternity would 
be assured only on the supposition that the eternity of the world- 
process also is assured. A Maha-pralaya, such as that of which 
Hindu mystics dream, would extinguish Him. For clearly a God 



FROM BERKELEY TO HEGEL. 59 

who is real only through mediation of " finite spirits" must lose 
consciousness when the latter lose consciousness. 

The theory of a conscious fontal Reason is attended with diffi- 
culties of another kind. At the outset we must observe that there 
is no scope for dogmatic assertion in this controversy. Hegelians 
profess only to explain experience and a Theistic Idealism is merely 
one among various hypotheses which may serve to explain it. We 
only know directly our own states of consciousness. The problem 
is, Does the reality of this consciousness force us to infer a crea- 
tive god-consciousness as its ground, or is there a more effective 
hypothesis forthcoming ? 

Now I must urge here, as I have already urged elsewhere, that 
no one individual however exalted serves to explain the origin of 
other individuals. A conscious God is in virtue of His very self- 
awareness or consciousness cut off from the spheres embraced by 
the consciousness of other individuals. Even were He conscious 
of all that of which these other individuals are conscious, He would 
still remain only the leading monad in a hierarchy of monads. All 
selves in respect of their bare self-hood are discrete impervious 
ultimates : We can speak in Hegelian language of a known object 
as " an other which is not another," but not so of an alien knower. 
All Selves are selves "in their own right," though they may greatly 
further or hinder one another's activities. We must posit, in fact, 
a principle other than a God-consciousness as ground of ourselves, 
that is if it is necessary to posit a ground at all. 

The Ultimate ground of Reality, it would seem, has to be 
found in what I have elsewhere termed the Metaconscious, a spir- 
itual activity vnkpaocpos VTtfpZoos best discussed as the basis of a 
monadology. All available clues seem to indicate that conscious- 
ness (i. e., spiritual activity under the form of self-awareness) is a 
posterius, never a prius, that, in fact, the actual is only a star-point 
visible against the dark background of the potential. Conscious- 
ness has a very limited range ; its content streams ever out of po- 
tentiality into actuality ; only the veriest fragment of our experi- 
ences, perceptual and mental, is present to us at any given moment, 
while perception itself is possible only in virtue of associated ideas 



60 THE MONIST. 

of unrealised sensations. In fact, reflexion on the features of our 
individual experience the datum on which metaphysic necessarily 
founds makes for the theory of the Metaconscious. Consciousness, 
the actual, is the flower, not the root. 

One would like, on the Theistic assumption, to have one more 
riddle answered. If God is held to be source of my consciousness, 
how can it be urged that He was complete before my rise ? It 
would be absurd to hold that my consciousness was suspended in his 
"eternally complete " consciousness without my being aware of the 
fact. Here at least, then, potentiality would seem to eclipse actu- 
ality, here a conscious God is eternal along with a somewhat that 
was once not conscious at all. I at least became conscious in time. 
Did I then spring from a metaconscious ground of which God knew 
naught? 

It is hard that Conservatism should reap no harvest. But the 
uselessness even to Theology of this Hegelian Theism is well pointed 
out by Mr. Balfour, "Neither the combining Principle alone, nor 
the combining principle considered in its union with the multiplicity 
which it combines, can satisfy the requirements of an effectual The- 
ology. Not the first, because it is a barren abstraction, not the 
second, because in its all-inclusive universality it holds in suspen- 
sion, without preference and without repulsion, every element alike 
of the knowable world. Of these none, whatever be its nature, be 
it good or bad, base or noble, can be considered as alien to the Ab- 
solute ; all are necessary and all are characteristic." The worth- 
lessness of this Theism to the average worshipper will be, perhaps, 
still more vividly realised when it is remembered that Hegel viewed 
religion as God's self-consciousness, 1 and that such atrocious cults 
as the religions of the Syrians and Phoenicians, the so-called "reli- 
gions of pain," figure as moments of the dialectic of religions (cul- 
minating in the absolute religion or Christianity). Can we wonder 
that some writers have used angry words in discussing Hegelian- 
ism? Can we be seriously asked to worship a Being who unfolds 



1 Religion =" the knowledge which the Divine Spirit has of himself through 
the mediation of the finite spirit." (Hegel.) 



FROM BERKELEY TO HEGEL. 6l 

His "eternal essence" in a time-process which yields the abomina- 
tions of Moloch and Adonis, to ignore more primitive and in some 
cases even more cruel cults? Can the clerics of the "Absolute 
Religion" honestly inculcate a "philosophical Theism" which em- 
braces this monstrous view ? We may, however, press the point 
further and contend that all idealistic Theisms alike are unsatisfactory. 
On the shoulders of a Deity, who is sole prius, rests the responsibil- 
ity for every event which our moral judgment deplores. Every in- 
iquity of man, for instance, must in consistency be traced back to 
this Deity, for what for such a Theism are individuals but His 
manifestations? We cannot see in a Nero anything but a phase of 
his activity. " Un etre qui a tout recu, ne peut agir que par ce que 
lui a et donne", et toute la puissance divine qui est infinie, ne sau- 
rait le rendre independant," runs a passage culled by Schopenhauer 
from Vauvenarques and the passage is singularly relevant. The 
advance of ethical ideals must render such a Theism unwelcome, if 
not objectionable. The philosophy which professes to "rethink" 
Christianity on conservative lines such as these will one day be 
viewed as an imposture. 

THE PROBLEM OF THE RATIONALITY OF THE PRIUS. 

Whether the prius is or is not conscious is after all a matter of 
debate even among Hegelians. All, however, of these latter who 
have any real claim to their title contend for its rationality, and no 
student of Hegel can doubt his view for a moment. Now this exal- 
tation of Reason stands for the culmination of the formalist Platonic 
movement already noticed. A unity of intelligible categories is dis-- 
cussed as timeless prius, the logical articulation of its moments 
being painfully demonstrated. In this dialectical process we con- 
front, so it is said, the "pure reason" God in his eternal essence 
as ground of reality. And in these categories we have to note the 
Idea-determinations which underlie nature and the individual mind, 
viewing them in a dry light abstracted from the multiplicity and 
confusion in which they appear in actual experience. A masterly 
ambition, this Logic ; a masterly Method, too, it would seem, this 
method of the "self-explicating Idea," carrying us from category 



62 THE MONIST. 

to category with an oily, if painful, sureness. But now that we 
have plumbed the riddle of the Idea as prius let us away to the con- 
crete of Nature and mind. And what do we find? That the Rea- 
son into whose very movement we had seemed to enter, now often 
plainly avails us nothing. We cite pessimists galore who point to 
the interminable failures, abominations, and torments of this world, 
and are told in reply that these evils are mostly necessary to bring 
out the full glory of the godhead of the Idea. But some evils at 
least are utterly indefensible on any such teleologic lines ; so Hegel- 
ians call in an ally and eke out Reason by aid of the sound "con- 
tingency." No one, however, is able to say how Reason, the all- 
sufficient prius , founded a world of "contingent " particularity which 
so often suggests unreason, but that for Hegelians is a trifle. Suf- 
fice it, they urge, that we are able to detect the presence of Reason 
here and there in the turmoil. We are to trust to the wisdom of 
the Idea that the pother will make eventually for good the good 
of the Idea. Of a truth Nature on the showing even of advocates of 
the IDEA is a very bad exemplification of Reason. To cite Schweg- 
ler's description of the Hegelian Nature, that amazing output of 
Rationality: "Nature is a Bacchantic God, uncontrolled by, and 
unconscious of, himself. It offers, then, no example of an intelligibly 
articulated, continuously ascendant gradation. On the contrary, it 
everywhere mingles and confounds the essential limits by inter- 
mediate and spurious products which perpetually furnish instances 
in contradiction of every fixed classification. In consequence of 
this impotence on the part of nature to hold fast the moments of 
the notion, the philosophy of nature is constantly compelled, as it 
were, to capitulate between the world of the concrete individual 
products and the regulative of the speculative idea" {History of 
Philosophy, translated by Hutchison Stirling. Eighth edition. Page 
332). Seeing that the Idea as prius is viewed as pure reason and 
nothing else, and further as in no way exhausted by its manifestation 
as Nature, we must be at a loss to account for the above extra- 
ordinary output. And our perplexity is increased when we reach 
the sphere of "Philosophy of Mind" or Spirit the very inquiry 
which, treating of the regress of the Idea into itself, might be ex- 



FROM BERKELEY TO HEGEL. 63 

pected to shatter scepticism. It would puzzle even a sophist to 
exhibit the domains of (what Hegel discusses under) "Anthropol- 
ogy," "Phenomenology," and "Psychology" as of purely rational 
import. So-called " Objective Reason," again, as realised in the 
State, etc., would be often much more appropriately dubbed un- 
reason. At its best it is only an imperfect result of innumerable 
faulty tentatives. And even in the vaunted history of philosophy 
itself the Categories of Reason show but poorly. There are apparent 
"distortions in time," big gaps, etc., on the admission of Hegel 
and of his own supporters, the deftest manipulations of data not- 
withstanding. Here again phenomenal "contingency" destroys 
all hope of any concrete vindication of what logic rightly held the 
"realm of shadows" has established. Yet Logic pretends to dis- 
cuss the Prius of that very contingency and believes itself to have 
done so satisfactorily ! We can appreciate now the indignation of 
Schopenhauer, and the sneers of Schelling and von Hartmann. 
When unravelling the real ongoings of the real world and of the 
minds of those conceived as in it, the so-called labor of the "No- 
tion" or "Concept" only fools us. It is simply inadequate to the 
mere facts is a product of the study suitable for stuffy class-rooms 
but unable to thrive under the open sky of concrete reality. It no 
more displays the workshop of this reality than do printed words 
in a geography-primer the actual geologic origin of the countries 
discussed. Truth to tell, the assumption that the source of reality 
must be Intellect ("Idea"), the articulation of which can be shown 
in a book, is an absurd relic of Platonic dialectics and Scholasticism 
which but for the dexterity of one or two German writers would 
long since have been discarded. 

But if Categories, Notions, or Concepts of the Metaphysical 
kind make so strange a show, why in the name of common sense, it 
will be asked, were they ever assumed at all ? How are they seized 
in the first instance the problems of relating them in a Logic, etc., 
apart ? Here we come to an important issue, an issue which en- 
ables us to clear the ground grandly. The answer, of course, of 
Hegelians would be no such categories, no experience, inner and 
outer, mental and perceptual, such as we actually have. This be- 



64 THE MONIST. 

ing so, I will first take the case of Objects, of "outer" experience 
and contend that the objectivation of this latter in no way requires 
us to assume such categories. In other words, Categories, as devices 
invented to help us to explain the riddle of External Perception, 
are superfluous. We can explain that portion of the riddle, which 
they seem to explain, otherwise. 

Take the alleged Category Being is it requisite as most simple 
of the thought-determinations said to "constitute" the object ? I 
reply, it is wholly superfluous ; Being in the object is not a thought 
but a sensation, not a category, pure concept or universal, but 
a name for the feeling of self-opposition (Behmen's contrariety), 
whereby the subject becomes conscious. 1 

The idea of this sensation abstracted from the ideas of the other 
sensations along with which it is had, and fixed by a name becomes 
in the process a concept. The Subject does not "think" its states as 
existent under a metaphysical or "transcendental" concept and so 
constitute a rudimentarily objective world, but it derives the empiri- 
cal concept "Being" from a felt world, with the production of which 
concepts had nothing to do, the production being due to a super- 
rational activity in no way resembling intellect. The new Monad- 
ism, the quarter in which I believe the true explanation of External 
Perception to lie, has no need to invent transcendental concepts to 
account for knowledge. It declares that there are no concepts what- 
ever in things until by "taking together" (con-ceiving) the agree- 
ing phases of the things, we generate them and then place them at 
our leisure in the selfsame things. 

There is, in fact, a native objectivity in sensation arising from 
its mode of production, the rushing of the Ego or Subject into 
manifestation. I am glad to find myself partly in agreement with 
Mr. Belfort Bax on this count. He, too, though a Categorist, dis- 
misses Being as "alogical," but he does not, I venture to think, 
yet realise what this important rejection means. It means the con- 
cession to the presentation-continuum of that precious objectivity 

1 Jacob Behmen's "doctrine of contrariety" as essential to consciousness, and 
Fichte's view of the Non-Ego as an output of the Ego, which thereby determines 
or makes definite itself, may be usefully studied in this connexion. 



FROM BERKELEY TO HEGEL. 65 

which is the one element requisite for the success of Associa- 
tionism in this quarter. Mr. Bax says: "The universal and 
necessary element which all reality involves is clearly thought into 
the object. Yet although thought into the object, it is clearly not 
thought into it by the individual mind, since the latter finds it 
already given in the object" (Problem of Reality, p. 17), and preserves 
categories, such as Causality and Substance, despite his objection 
to Being. But surely, Being once conceded to the enemy, the case 
for the other categories is lost. Association will suffice to round off 
a crudely into a fully objective world, and that the more easily as 
inherited ancestral experiences facilitate its task. As I have urged 
elsewhere : "Not categories, but cerebral monads mediate the fuller 
objectivation of sensation into the ripe world we know ; their activ- 
ities being passively duplicated in the Subject [central monad] as 
the infant consciousness dawns. Nerves and brain wirepull the adjust- 
ments of organism to surroundings, and the reflex of this adjustive mech- 
anism in the subject is the very process of the fuller objectivation itself." 1 
Seeing that for Mr. Bax consciousness viewed from the physical 
standpoint is "cerebral matter in motion" and arises with the or- 
ganism in time, he might find the above view not wholly valueless, 
friendly though it is to Monadism. It is satisfactory, however, to be 
in a position to assert that my particular form of Monadism admits of 
inductive proof, a proof which can be readily adduced if required. 
Indeed, saving certain effective supplementary arguments yet to be 
inserted, this proof has been already submitted to the critics. 

It is well that I should ward off misrepresentation in thus treat- 
ing of the categories. I was recently taken to task by a careless and 
I fear not too conscientious critic for insisting in one part of 
my Riddle on psychical atomism and in other parts attacking it. 
"You cannot," urged this worthy, "get universal connexion out of 
particulars in which it was not, but, as Mr. Fawcett shows, there are 
no such particulars in experience (p. 90), and all that science can 
do is to clear and make systematic a connexion present from the 
first in every associative conjunction. If therefore (p. 182) the 

1 Riddle of the Universe, p. 337. 



66 THE M ONI ST. 

author accepts Mr. Bradley's rejection of atomism he can hardly 
have understood it. Particulars out of connexion are psychical 
atoms." The critic has not cared to think out the standpoint he so 
glibly assails. I reject, of course, as a Monadist, all show of psy- 
chical atomism proffered as explanatory of my own consciousness, 
but I equally reject what seem to me those phantoms of the study, 
those modernised verbal Universals known as "categories." What 
I posit is a presentation-continuum, the "wholeness" of which re- 
veals the unity of the monad that evolves it. From this whole I 
maintain that we can derive universals and particulars alike ; inte- 
gration and differentiation of its aspects by way of their mutual fur- 
therance and hindrance furnishing the clue. Physiological psy- 
chology taken over and made adequate by Monadism enables us to 
dispense with the category. It should be evident that this view ex- 
cludes belief in primitive unrelated particulars. All modes of ex- 
perience are related as modes of a unitary self-revelatory monad. 
The error of Hegelians is their view of " relations " as the realisa- 
tion of "Universals" somehow different in kind from the "related 
terms." I will return to this matter anon. 

Let me now glance briefly at the well-known Category of 
Causality as impugned and set aside by the new Monadism. 

What is the pre-Hegelian history of this Category? It is this. 
Hume in the first place resolved experience into primitively unre- 
lated particulars shook the whole fabric loose. A causal sequence 
for him was a time-sequence, the terms of which seem to hang 
necessarily together owing to association. Causality is derivative 
from our experience of "constant conjunctions" and then thrust, 
as it were, illusively on some special conjunction. But Kant 
changes all this. He argues in effect no causality latent as pure 
concept, no experience of the conjunctions in question at all. It is 
by way of subsumption under the Category (or rather its schema) 
that determinations of phenomena, i. e., space and time ordered 
sensations, become objective, universally, and necessarily exter- 
nalised phases of a real perceptual world. The category minus 
the phenomena is empty, but the phenomena minus the category 
are blind. This is the Thought-Theory of Experience, and at first 



FROM BERKELEY TO HEGEL. 67 

sight it certainly does seem attractive. But analysis reveals a 
grave blemish. It was supposed that the Category carried with 
it a necessity that recemented the fragments into which Expe- 
rience had fallen for Hume. But see Kant posits " phenomena " 
as material for the work of the category. How comes this material 
into the shape it bears ere it is "subsumed" under the Category. 
Aye, there's the rub. A is followed by B, and into this given sequence 
the category reads Necessity. 1 But what of the origination of the 
terms of the sequence thus treated? Why was A presented along 
with B in this order ? Kant cannot tell us. To say that sensations 
or " representations" are intuited in a Time-Form is in no way to 
account for the detailed order in which they appear. To explain 
that order we must surely fall back on the activity conceded to the 
"transcendental " objects or things-in-themselves. And may not a 
contingency of at any rate considerable import obtain here? May 
not the "transcendental objects " or causa tpaivojueroov produce our 
sensations at random now and then ? If so, what is to prevent 
" Causality " from bestowing a necessary relation on terms arbi- 
trarily, and, maybe, contingently originated? Superimposed neces- 
sity is a farce. Kant, in short, has on this count failed to confute 
Hume. Hume's Causality is of Empirical origin, the child of "Asso- 
ciation"; Kant's is an a priori condition of experience, but both these 
kinds of Causality alike presuppose relatable terms, in the origina- 
tion of which contingency may well obtain. The net of the Category 
is only thrown over two or more terms that happen to have bobbed 
up in a certain order. 

Hegel and others seem to have recognised this as well as other- 
defects of Kant's theory of Categories. Hence Causality is again 
revised. It is now made immanent or implicit in phenomena (tardily 
though we empirical individuals may come to detect it). But in 
this novel scheme Kant's standpoint is practically abandoned. Kant 
had clearly started with a wish to exhibit multiple phenomena as 
somehow thrown at the Ego and then rallied into order by sub- 



1 This inreading is, also, most notably prominent in the case of the so-called 
categories of Quantity and Quality. 



68 THE MONIST. 

sumption under a unitary pure concept. 1 But when Causality is 
viewed as immanent in the phenomena at the start, it loses its Kant- 
ian standing, being transmuted into the extraordinary fiction of a 
Concept as multiple and impure as there are phenomena " realising " 
it! Kant's mere function of the " Transcendental Judgment," 
designed simply to account for the way in which we "think" 
given phenomena, is superseded by a Logical Realism which has 
to account for the phenomena themselves. The Concept in the 
Critique idly related what was brought to it now it energises and 
manifests in things. Is this alleged advance on Kant worth pen- 
ning ? The Category in the form in which Kant championed 
it will not pass muster has it profited by taking on a new form? 
Is it easier to understand how B follows A, always and uncon- 
ditionally, just because a mere Concept is held to relate them 
immanently? The supposition may be impeached on two main 
counts : (i) Concepts of the empirical kind which are alone gen- 
erally admitted are not dynamic ; why, then, is a transcendental 
concept to be gratuitously supposed dynamic? Surely if Reason is 
found incompetent to account for the movement of Reality, as a 
whole, specially incompetent is this wretched concept Causality to 
account for the nisus behind the myriads of caused events in this 
world. The dynamics of Reality were doubtless incorrectly fathered 
by Schopenhauer upon "Will" an abstraction as empty as is 
Reason but his indictment of Hegelian rationalism holds none 
the less valid for that. (2) The seething complexity and multiplicity, 
the wealth of qualitative variety, which mark Nature raise further 
difficulties. On the Hegelian supposition that the prius is pure 
Reason, articulated as in the Logic, the only way of accounting for 
Nature is to view it as the categories of this pure Reason made con- 
crete, "realising themselves in multiplicity" as the phrase goes. I 
would as lief try to create a flesh-and-blood man out of a shadow as 
spin Nature out of such figments. Causality, of course, is made to 



1 The categories, observes Kant, are ' ' nothing but the conditions of thinking 
in possible experience" in the same way as space and time are conditions of the 
phenomena which get " subsumed" under these categories. 



FROM BERKELEY TO HEGEL. 69 

play its part, the IDEA ''thinking" innumerable cases of sequence 
as causal. It is forgotten that the important thing after all is not 
that events are, or may be, related " causally" in the "thought" of the 
"Idea," or of you and me, but that they occur. The bare occurrence is 
the point of moment and this occurrence could be effected as well 
by a jz^r-rational Prius as by a rational one such as Hegel's. 

This problem of the bare occurrence is, of course, of a piece 
with that touching the source of " sensation " (the alogical so called) 
as a whole. To squeeze "sensation" out of Concepts is as imprac- 
ticable as to derive Nature from Plato's bloodless Universals. I 
may, however, be asked : " have you, then, any satisfactory theory 
to proffer?" It is not, however, my business here to construct, but 
to criticise. I will therefore simply say that in my humble opinion 
the solution of the riddle of sensations must be sought by way of 
study of the dynamics of Monads ; Monadism incorporating, while 
interpreting, whatever physiological psychology has to say. 

Some way back I was contending that psychical atomism has 
no necessary connexion with repudiation of Hegelian Universals. 
And now I must add that "Relations" where truly primitive need in 
no way be specially exalted as ' ' Thought. " There are, in fact, sen- 
sations of relation "transitive parts" of the stream of conscious- 
ness to adopt Professor James's phrase as well as the ordinary 
recognised sensations or "substantive parts"; both transitive and 
substantive parts being aspects only of a Monad. The Relations 
puzzling the Categorist and treated by him in such absurdly heroic 
fashion are no "Intelligible" orderers of the manifold, but "sensi- 
ble " phases of the latter on an equal footing with other phases. As 
such they are particular themselves that is when we dig them 
out of their context and come to consider them abstractly. And 
all particulars (as universals) are products of this later abstraction. 

Categories, then, in one domain are superfluous, are relics of 
Logical Realism. If we could not explain External Perception 
without them, reconsideration of the group would be requisite but 
we can. So far so good. But the Dialectic is a chain which can- 
not afford to have one weak link. Along with rejection of categories 
in the realm of Nature and Sense must go rejection of those cate- 



70 THE MONIST. 

gories supposed to interpret Nature and Sense. Dialectic can- 
not begin abruptly where we think about the world we perceive. 
No longer, for instance, need we view physical science as the " dis- 
covery by the human mind of thoughts that are objective in sensible 
things" provided that "thoughts" here mean Concepts made concrete. 
The so-called "laws" of nature present no difficulty. They are 
verbal generalities, and of some, e. g., the first law of Motion, it 
cannot be said that phenomena exemplify them sensibly at all. 
Science, indeed, as a whole does not mirror concrete aspects of the 
concrete given Real, but stands for a conceptual transformation of 
this Real, wherein names and symbols predominate. Its Generali- 
ties only indicate the likenesses and unlikenesses of minor generali- 
ties, "outer" facts or "inner" ideas and feelings viewed in aspects 
mostly relative to our interests, practical, and other. They leave 
the problem of the power behind the facts untouched. They are 
necessarily inadequate even to the facts and apt to cheat the book- 
lover with the merest shadow of knowledge. 

Touching the rise and growth of intellect, Monadism must 
again be invoked. But nothing useful can be done unless physio- 
logical psychology and evolutionist biology are first called in. It 
seems clear that the opinion of Schopenhauer is justified by the ad- 
vance of science. Intellect uprose primarily as servant to the or- 
ganism, and was conditioned wholly by its needs. Knowledge pur- 
sued as end-in-itself is now familiar, but stands for a late stage in 
the self-assertion of the central monads. Interests, too, rule here, 
and we note the absence of uniform logical order in the modes of self- 
realisation of these monads. The bearing of Monadism on the 
standing and development of "Reason" (or rather of those modes 
of co-ordination of states of consciousness embraced under this gen- 
eral name), is necessarily of high interest and all conclusions of or- 
dinary research, biologic and other, must be overhauled by it pre- 
vious to adoption. Ordinary science, where really a study of 
" phenomena," and not, as is so very often the case, an unconscious 
and blundering Metaphysic as well, deals with surfaces ; monad- 
ism with the veiled activities which seethe beneath these surfaces. 
How penetration below these latter is possible I have shown at 



FROM BERKELEY TO HEGEL. 71 

length elsewhere ; l here I must simply reiterate my conviction that 
the inquiry is both feasible and of leading significance. 

A word more on Dialectic, the supposed " method of the self- 
explicating Idea" as echoed in human thinking at its maturity. 
The self-diremption and self-movement of the concept is its pre- 
supposition. Let us place our fingers on the fallacy underlying it. 
Dr. Stirling has a doubt as to the validity even of the Logic. " If 
the start be but an artifice and a convenience, is it at all ascertained 
that the means of progress, the dialectic, is any respect better? " 
Now we may at once vindicate this timely doubt. The truth is 
that the contradictory moments discerned within concepts "the 
knowledge of opposites is one " are not products of their self- 
diremption at all. Contrariwise the moments were otherwise posited 
and merely suspended together by us in and as the concepts. In 
other words, the alleged self-movement or " labor of the Notion" 
is an illusion ; the true movement is ascribable to the primitive 
non-conceptual phenomena, "outer" and "inner," aspects of which 
concepts merely indicate. // is just this flux, stir, and life in phe- 
nomena that constitute the real CRUX of Metaphysic. And here, again, 
I would suggest that recourse to Monadism is imperative. The 
seemingly energising concept is an impostor credited with the energy 
of the phenomena it grew from. 

The two-sidedness at least of cognitions is generally admitted. 
It is no special privilege of Dialectic to maintain that A is only A 
in virtue of not being B, etc. Thus even empiricists may agree 
with Bain when he urges that the two sides of consciousness " mu- 
tually constitute each other." Such views do not further adop- 
tion of conceptual dialectic as the world-secret ; they have other 
uses also. A is certainly B in so far as B makes it A. Any 
given mode of consciousness is differently realised in different rela- 
tions. But between this contention, and the contention that con- 
cepts by self-negation, etc., run a universe, yawns a gulf hard to 
cross. 



. Riddle of the Universe, Part II., Chapter IV. and V., and elsewhere. 



72 THE MONIST. 

And now there must be noted another leading objection to cer- 
tain current statements of idealism, including panlogism to their 
swamping of the individual subject or monad in the interests of a 
supposed unitary subject of consciousness "in general." With 
Hegel the Idea as prius is a Unitary pure reason ; with others who 
sympathise with him in a manner the prius is equally a unitary sub- 
ject of consciousness in which numerical differences, such as em- 
pirical subjectivities exhibit, are lost. Thus Mr. Bax urges that 
"we instinctively feel that the that in us which distinguishes be- 
tween the object self [mental order] and the object not-self is the 
subject of consciousness-/>*-*7zmz/ of which self and not-self are the 
determinations." 1 I am afraid that this alleged instinct is an en- 
dowment of certain philosophers misled by the worship of Univer- 
sals. Doctors, however, disagreeing, we must fall back on Expe- 
rience. And Experience acquaints us with states only of our own 
consciousness, i. e., ourselves. 'It is doubtless convenient to "de- 
duce" individuals from a Subject (logical, superlogical, etc.) in 
which multiplicity is not ; but the deduction, like other feats of the 
Speculative Method, smells of the study. Say what one will, the 
fact remains that "selves" or monads as partially revealed in our 
experiences are "impervious," that the I-glow, the individuality of 
the individual is self-posited and recognised by men, with no sys- 
tem to uphold, as such. The name subject-in-general may indicate 
a genuine potentiality or background, but whether we admit the 
latter or not, we must at any rate admit multiple selves. "If the 
words 'self, 5 'ego,' I, are to be used intelligibly at all they must 
mean whatever else they do or do not mean a ' somewhat ' which is 
self-distinguished not only from every other knowable object, but 
also from every other possible self" (A. J. Balfour). Here the 
multiplicity or monad-view stands to its adversary as does fact to 
problematical inference. Of a merely monistic ground we know and 
can know nothing ; but in our individual monads we the conscious 
thinkers are rooted. I have argued, however, elsewhere, that the 



1 Problem of Reality, p. 87. 



FROM BERKELEY TO HEGEL. 73 

truth lies in a monistic monadism wherein both sides of the con- 
troversy receive recognition. On these lines the ultimate ground 
of consciousness is not a mere Unity t but a Unity-Plurality in which 
all possible numerical diversity is latent or implicit. The individ- 
ual, in respect of his bare individuality, at any rate, is an educt not 
a product. To say that number obtains explicitly only in the sphere 
of the empirical is correct, and were Mr. Bax and his sympathisers 
to confine themselves to upholding this view, no one need quarrel 
with them. But the diversity that we know as explicit presupposes 
a ground in which it was implicit ; otherwise it could not appear at 
all. It is a prominent Hegelian contention that there is no "ap- 
pearance" without an "essence" and no "essence" that cannot 
become "appearance." The admission, while valid, is embarrass- 
ing. The "appearance" of numerical diversity in individuals must 
in consistency be viewed as explication or revelation of numerical 
diversity in the "essence" the Universal Subject or Spirit. A 
merely Unitary Subject could not unfold itself into a diversity that it 
never possessed ! 

To those who dread the unreality of the "labor of the notion," 
a labor that yields chronic diseases of language, the very name of 
Metaphysic is apt to prove obnoxious. But to condemn Metaphysic 
on account of the vagaries of some of its exponents is unwise. And 
after all, most of us, man of science and votary of common sense 
alike, are metaphysicians in practice and it remains, therefore, only 
to determine the best way of organising and testing seemingly in- 
evitable thoughts. The "complete" Inductive Method of Mill may 
be heartily commended as an instrument for effecting this latter 
end ; the superstition that it is only suitable for ordinary physical 
and psychological research being dispelled by the results to which 
it may be shown to lead us. But, be our method what it may, we 
must at least take care not to misstate the riddle of the Experience we 
have to solve. Experience, let me repeat, is silent as to the Subject 
"in general"; it reveals "selves" as discrete, the individuality of 
the individual as self-posited. This supreme fact must not be ig- 
nored. Als HOI rpiS TO naXov I am the reality I am aware of, the 
world is my presentment in even a stricter sense than that intended 



74 THE MONIST. 

by Schopenhauer. 1 Of course the idealistic solution of External 
Perception the reply to the question how and why is my sense- 
consciousness produced as I have it involves inquiries into the 
ongoings of other monads, but of these ongoings our knowledge 
must be indirect. 

Such, then, are some of the objections which bear, or seem to 
bear, severely on Hegelianism. All could without doubt be exten- 
sively elaborated, and more especially the pessimist indictment of 
panlogism could be drawn up with far greater effect. The force of 
this latter in the sphere of " Nature-philosophy " and in that of 
Hegel's " Objective Reason" in " Philosophy of Mind " is indeed 
overwhelming. The systems of Schopenhauer and von Hartmann, 
if too one-sided, are themselves witnesses to the incompetence of 
panlogism when it descends from the Olympus of Logic into the 
Hades of actual fact. Much embodied in these systems is un- 
answerable on current idealist lines and calls for the radical recon- 
stitution of metaphysic. That reconstitution, I believe, and else- 
where I have endeavored to make good my assertion, can only be 
achieved by abjuring Reason as prius, and resorting to a super- 
logical, consciousless, but spiritual, spontaneity to a monistic mon- 
adology. It seems probable that in this event many of the riddles 
of this world, pessimism, the ethical problem, the import of the in- 
dividual, and so forth, might ultimately come to wear a far more 
encouraging aspect than they do now. 

* 
* * 

Having dealt with the Hegelian panlogism, I take this oppor- 
tunity of passing some remarks on the "form of panlogism" es- 
poused by the editor of this magazine, and expounded in its gen- 
eral outlines in his lucid and compact Primer of Philosophy. Space 



1 Schopenhauer, despite his Inductive standpoint, tends to cling to a " Uni- 
versal " better suited to abstractionists and notion-philosophers tends to strip his 
WILL of all inner multiplicity. Yet he very strangely says, ' ' all proper and true 
existence obtains only in the individual . . . this immeasurable outer world has its 
existence only in the consciousness of knowing beings and is consequently bound 
up -with the existence of individuals -which are its bearers." Selected Essays, E. B 
Bax, p. 177. Why, then, ground these individuals in a mere unitary Will ? 



FROM BERKELEY TO HEGEL. 75 

will compel me to consider only its broadest features, and also to 
ignore many of the points, touching which I am in hearty accord 
with its author. 

Dr. Carus combines a bold empiricism with a quite Hegelian 
recognition of a World-Reason as the prius of mere human perceiv- 
ing, feeling, and reasoning. Indeed, he strives after "a critical 
reconciliation of rival philosophies of the type of Kantian apriorism 
and John Stuart Mill's empiricism." All our knowledge flows from 
experience, but Reason an " objective" or World- Reason, not 
"subjective" innate concepts or the like is the source of this ex- 
perience and the universality and necessity detected in the rela- 
tional or formal aspects even of sensations are to be cited, he 
thinks, in proof of this view. Needless to say that Mill's associa- 
tionism is a bar to the reconciliation favored by Dr. Carus ; hence 
the latter's treatment of the question of "formal thought" is not- 
ably antagonistic to the standpoint of the famous British empiricist. 
But there is no reason whatever why a thoroughgoing Empiricism 
should not, with certain modifications, be made perfectly consonant 
with an Absolute Idealism or Rationalism. Aristotle, who, if not 
an Absolute Idealist, was well-nigh one, 1 was at the same time an 
empiricist in so far as the problem of the origin of human knowledge 
in time was concerned. 

But though Dr. Carus agrees with Hegel in the belief that 
Reason is sole prius, he is in no way inclined to favor the artificial- 
ity of that thinker and his repudiation of the Dialectical Method is 
obvious from the remark that "the inmost nature of reason is con- 
sistency, and thus the simplest statement of rational thought is the 
maxim of sameness formulated in logic in the sentence A = A" 
(p. 109). Rejecting the Dialectical Method, he rejects apparently 
with it all hope of articulating the rationality immanent in the 
world-order, the leading ambition, without question, of Hegel. In- 
deed, failing some such method, I do not see how the attempt 
would be feasible. Even if, as Dr. Carus urges, "human reason is 



1 " Well-nigh ;" because his v~h] or "matter" remains in the last analysis a 
surd, never wholly resolved into the IDEA or " form." 



76 THE MONIST. 

only the reflexion of the world-reason" (p. 117), we are still at a 
loss to understand how immanent necessity and connexion obtain be- 
tween the moments of this World-Reason, and why it should actu- 
ally unfold itself just as it does. We must take the unfolding, it 
appears, as an ultimate fact and abandon all attempts to pen a 
Logic which shall be one with Ontology. 

But here I must advance a criticism which seems to me to pos- 
sess much force. How does Dr. Carus, lacking a Dialectical 
Method, know that the World-Spirit which reflects itself in us is 
really rational at all ? The Universality and necessity alleged to 
pervade experience may surely be witnesses not to the mere ration- 
ality of the world, but to the workings of a supra-rational, spiritual 
Power? Remember " reflexions" are often of a very faint and mis- 
leading character. And it will scarcely be urged that we men, who 
are not so very far removed from the animals, furnish a reflecting 
surface in any way adequate to the activities of an alleged World- 
Spirit ? May not the processes we term "reason" be merely a 
transient phase of our becoming a wretchedly faint reflexion of 
spiritual activities such as altogether transcend reason? The moon- 
light reflected at midnight by a murky pool is no worthy represen- 
tative of the splendor of the sun which is the original source of the 
light. And poor human reason, I take it, is no worthy representa- 
tive of the splendor of that supra-rational spiritual sun which I have 
elsewhere termed the Metaconscious. Anyhow the supposition is 
worth considering. 

Dr. Carus terms his standpoint a "monistic positivism/' and 
very properly contrasts it with the mere agnostic positivism of 
Comte and Littre*. He also justly assails the pernicious ignorabimus 
of modern agnostics in general. " The philosophy of these latter 
days is indeed like a ship run aground. Her helmsmen themselves 
have declared that further headway is impossible ; that philosoph- 
ical problems in their very nature are insoluble." For "philo- 
sophical" I should prefer to write "metaphysical" or "fundamen- 
tal" problems. Philosophy is flourishing well enough in these lat- 
ter days, but metaphysic until recently has certainly been at a dis- 
count. Still we have a stalwart, if small, crew of metaphysicians 



FROM BERKELEY TO HEGEL. 77 

to man the ship even as things stand, are not the followers of the 
Germans from Fichte down to Von Hartmann of some account ? 
The Oriental metaphysicians, also, have their followers. But un- 
doubtedly the agnostics and indifferentists poll by far the biggest 
vote, and I agree with Dr. Carus that the fact is in almost every 
way to be deplored. 

The New Positivism represents the excellent principle "that 
all knowledge, scientific, philosophical, and religious, is a descrip- 
tion of facts." "Laws" and concepts merely refer us to aspects 
qualitative, quantitative, etc. of the concrete real. "The natural 
processes themselves are reality." Exactly. Monism, it is urged, 
is the unitary conception of the world, explaining all facts as phases 
only of one principle, and opposed to the Henism which tries to 
explain facts by way of some one-sided agency, "matter," etc., 
borrowed from them. The true explanation must include all facts 
and not give undue preference to any abstractly viewed set of them. 
With this I am in hearty accord. But the question arises whether 
such a Monism is adequate to the situation. The world exhibits 
not only unity but diversity and we must surely not allow the di- 
versity to be ignored when we discuss the Prius. Indeed, the all 
but universal struggle for existence suggests discreteness as well as 
unity as present in the all-evolving World-Spirit, and it is a monistic 
monadology that I would venture, accordingly, to proffer as the ex- 
planation most adequate to the situation. A mere unitary Principle 
is by implication without the germs whence sprout the Many. And 
let me add that the Experience on which Dr. Carus lays such stress 
invariably exhibits us to ourselves as impervious, self-contained cen- 
tres of consciousness. However, I have dealt with this point pre- 
viously. 

Dr. Carus holds that the truth of a philosophy may be vindi- 
cated by its ethics ; by the fact " that people can live according to 
the maxims derived therefrom." Surely this view validates the 
most conflicting standpoints of Asiatic and European philosophy, 
all of which cannot be true since on the author's own showing, the 
"inmost nature" of reason is consistency \ But waiving this point, 
I pass on to the ethical ideal which Dr. Carus derives from "svs- 



78 THE MONIST. 

tematised facts" to-wit Meliorism. Now Meliorism, of course, is 
not pessimism ; nor again is it a modified optimism. In fact we are 
told, "That life has no value in itself \ life is an opportunity for 
creating values. Life gains in value the more we fill it with worthy 
actions." Meliorism says that it is only prosecution of a moral end 
that makes life "worth living" (p. 6). This devotion to duty is 
exactly the ideal which inspired the ethics of Fichte, nay, which 
caused him to represent God as the "moral end " of the universe, 
as the Absolute Ego triumphant over the non-Ego of its own mak- 
ing. But let us consider this ideal in the present regard. 

Turning to page 22 I read, "Errors are children of the mind. 
There is neither good nor bad, neither right nor wrong, neither truth 
nor falsehood except in mentality." For what then ought the Mel- 
iorist to sacrifice himself when he undertakes, let us say, to advo- 
cate some great reform which will advance the civilisation of the 
future, a lofty ideal if ever there was one? For his fellows? Cer- 
tainly not. Dr. Carus assures us that "progress is accompanied 
with increased sensibility to pain, so that the average happiness is 
not increased even by the greatest advance of civilisation " (p. 6). 
For what then? For the "moral end" of the universe as Fichte 
would have said? Certainly not, for right and wrong, good and 
bad, only exist in our mentality. It appears, then, that the Meliorist 
is sacrificing himself merely to a figment of his own imagination, a 
barren thankless ideal of his own making. Self-sacrifice for the 
humanity of the future when that humanity cannot benefit by the act 
and there is no moral ideal beyond our own minds to take account 
of, is surely a huge mistake? Why labor to no purpose? For my 
part, were I a meliorist in theory, I am afraid that I should prove 
a very sorry decadent in practice ! 

Meliorism is said to found on " systematised facts," but where, 
I ask, are the facts? Is it true that life has no value in itself, are 
there no enjoyments which merit the name, no intellectual pursuits 
which are attractive enough to be ends-in-themselvest Again, life is 
said to be merely a chance for creating values? But values for 
whom ? For ourselves and fellows? No : for meliorism does not 
find the value of life in reaping pleasures. Nevertheless, a "value" 



FROM BERKELEY TO HEGEL. 79 

that does not relieve pain or produce, or tend to produce, pleasure 
is a thing which I for one confess myself at a loss to understand. 
The term, in fact, seems meaningless. And similarly the expres- 
sion "worthy actions" puzzles me. If there is no right outside 
human minds, and if the giving of pleasures and removal of pains 
are not the test of worth, what is the meaning of the expression at 
all? What is the standard of comparison by which all men alike 
will be content to measure "worth"? To me the only available 
standard seems utility and this consideration imports, of course, 
calculations touching the assessment of pleasures and pains. 

Very serious in its bearing on morality is Dr. Carus's attitude 
touching the soul. He views soul and body as inseparable, as ab- 
stracts from the same reality. That is to say the activities which 
to other sentient beings appear as certain cerebral functions are for 
me my own conscious life ; neurosis and psychosis are two sides of 
one and the same process. Well : this view implies the extinction 
of my consciousness at death ; for the neurosis is then at an end 
and there is no psychosis separable from a neurosis. Now, I hold 
with Renan that the loss of the belief in immortality must enervate 
the morality of, at any rate, the ordinary man. Unless we are to 
persist consciously after death and that too with a prospect of hap- 
piness, it really does seem absurd to worry ourselves with arduous 
moral efforts here and now. Unless the higher phases of self-cul- 
ture and altruism are to bear rich fruit for ourselves AND OTHERS in 
another life or lives, I fail entirely to see why we should vex our- 
selves here with ceaseless strivings and strugglings, when the cozy 
nooks of degeneration lie open to us. I am aware that Dr. Carus 
holds that "true religion is based upon the immortality of the 
soul" (p. 189), but what is the immortality in which he believes? 
A mockery in all seriousness ! It cannot be that he refers to our 
conscious existence after death, because the body is destined to per- 
ish, and body and soul, he asserts, are inseparable. "Christ is 
actually a living presence in [European] humanity," he urges, pp. 
188-189. No, no, not so fast. The Nazarene's body has long ago 
mouldered into dust, assuming that he ever lived. His soul, there- 
fore, on the lines of monistic positivism has been extinguished. 



80 THE MONIST. 

What is " present in humanity" is not Christ, but ideas about Christ, 
which is a very different matter. For myself, I would not give two- 
pence for an immortality of this kind, and I have no doubt that the 
average man in the street will heartily echo my sentiments. What 
is wanted is not a metaphorical existence in somebody's mind, when 
that somebody happens to think of you, or somebody's character 
has to be moulded, but a real conscious perpetuity in one's own 
right. Anything less than this is of no account to its possessor. 

To turn to the subject of Idealism, I note with interest that 
Dr. Carus views "all objective existence" as in itself subjective, 
"that which appears to us as a motion is in itself either a feeling 
or something analogous to feeling." Exactly; this is the point on 
which I have laid such stress in working out my theory of the Meta- 
conscious and the new Monadism. The truth is that Subjectivity 
has many grades, of which what we term reflective self-conscious- 
ness and the ordinary direct consciousness are merely two of spe- 
cial interest to us owing to our position in the universe. As ob- 
served by our author, "let us observe and study natural phenom- 
ena, and we shall learn something of the souls of other creatures 
and things" (p. 22). Yes, but it is just in observing these domains 
that I found my lower monads, the very "souls" of creatures and 
things, which Dr. Carus himself is here on the verge of admitting ! 
Our author is, as I know, no friend to Monadology, but he has very 
nearly stumbled on it here. 

I am quite in accord with the author in condemning the 
"sham" or Maya theory of perception held by so many Hindu 
thinkers. Nature as we perceive it is a revelation, though the ac- 
tivities in our consciousness need not be viewed as more than sym- 
bols of the spiritual activities in that wider Nature which lies be- 
yond our consciousness. In my Riddle of the Universe I have dealt 
with this and like points at length. 

I think that Dr. Carus unduly narrows the meaning of Idealism 
when he regards it as the school that questions the "objectivity of 
our representations." Idealists are of many schools ; agnostic, ni- 
hilistic, subjective, objective, absolute idealists, etc., are to be met 
with. The only idea common to these schools is the belief that in 



FROM BERKELEY TO HEGEL. 8l 

consciousness or in activities akin in nature to consciousness must 
be sought the entire explanation of the universe. Theories of per- 
ception, termed idealistic, differ widely. 

There is much in Dr. Carus's tersely written Primer on which 
I should like to dwell, but I must perforce at this point bring my 
already too lengthy remarks to a close. 

EDWARD DOUGLAS FAWCETT. 
TORQUAY, ENGLAND. 



PANLOGISM. 

IN REPLY TO E. DOUGLAS FAWCETT. 

INTRODUCTORY. 

EDWARD DOUGLAS FAWCETT has earned a well-deserved 
reputation in two fields belles lettres and philosophy. He is 
a novelist of great force, and at the same time a philosopher who 
has become widely known through his book, The Riddle of the Uni- 
verse. In the latter he combines the elegance of a novelist with the 
keenness of a thinker, and shows himself excellently well versed in 
the history of philosophy. His results differ greatly from mine, but 
that does not prevent me from recognising his unusual abilities, 
which manifest themselves again in his present article, "From 
Berkeley to Hegel" (pp. 41-81 of this number), and I am specially 
indebted to him for honoring me at the close of his expositions with 
a critical consideration of my own views. A man of his compass de- 
serves a hearing. I have, therefore, weighed his objections, and 
propose to make a few comments in reply. 

Mr. Fawcett has read my Primer of Philosophy and various Mo- 
nist articles of mine, but, interpreting them in the terms of his 
monadology, which is his scheme of thinking the world, he miscon- 
strues the import of my propositions concerning the moral aim of 
life and the immortality of the soul. The main point of contact, it 
appears, lies in the principle, which we both recognise, that (as he 
expresses it) "in consciousness, or in activities akin in nature to 
consciousness, must be sought the explanation of the universe." 
But our roads separate at once, for, taking this premise, Mr. Faw- 
cett jumps at the conclusion that the nature of soul-life indicates 



PANLOGISM. 83 

the existence of soul-monads, who then are made responsible for 
the continuity of soul-evolution and the relative stability of the 
spiritual phenomena of life. I may misunderstand Mr. Fawcett's 
theory, but when I hear the word monad, I think of a unit-centre, 
either of matter or of force, and there seems no doubt about it that 
Mr. Fawcett means to convey some such idea, for he speaks of souls 
as "impervious self-contained centres." Of what use the idea of a 
monad, of an impervious, self-contained centre, can be in the ex- 
planation of soul or consciousness is more than I can say. What 
has imperviousness to do with thought? Imperviousness is a qual- 
ity of material objects, but not of soul, or spirituality, or mind. 
Monads and minds, centres and souls, have as little in common as 
atoms and ideas. 

In order to reply to Mr. Fawcett's criticism, we must go over 
a good deal of ground, for he touches the most important problems 
of philosophy. We must ask : (i) What is soul, or spirit, or mind ? 
(2) What is reason ? (3) Does the unity of consciousness and the 
identity of personality prove the existence of monads? (4) What 
does immortality mean ? and (5) What is the purpose of life ? 



WHAT IS SOUL ? 

Mind, soul, and spirit, are synonyms; they are abstractions 
from the same reality with slight variations of meaning. We speak 
of soul when we think of the sentiments of a man ; we speak of 
mind when we refer mainly to his rational powers and the interac- 
tion that takes place among his ideas ; we speak of spirit when em- 
phasising the significance and character of thoughts without refer- 
ence to bodily conditions. We speak of the spirit of a book to 
denote its tendency and import, but we should not say that the 
book is ensouled, for it has no feelings. Should the expression be 
used, '* there is soul in the book," we could only mean that it 
had been written by a man of sentiment, that the soul of the book 
is the enthusiasm which it is liable to rouse. While a book may 
bear the stamp of intellectuality, we cannot speak of the mind of 
a book, because the book is not active. It may contain thoughts; 



84 THE MONIST. 

but it does not think ; it may present arguments, but it does not 
argue ; it may be rational, but it does not reason. It cannot reply 
to objections which a reader may happen to make. 

Assuming that the chemical elements are various forms of the 
same substance (which, according to the law expressed in Mendel- 
jeff's series, is more than simply probable), and observing that the 
materials of which human bodies consist are not different from ma- 
terials found in the air, the water, and the earth, and also in the 
stars, we come to the conclusion that the conditions of sentiency 
from which the soul takes its origin are a feature that is an inherent 
quality of all existence. The sentiency of a man is not inserted into 
his body, but is the inner aspect of his bodily organisation. It is 
the subjectivity of his objective existence. 

"Soul" is used in two senses. In a general and loose way it 
means the entire subjectivity of man, as which it is a synonym of 
spirit and mind. In a special sense the word is distinguished from, 
and sometimes even contrasted with, mind and spirit. By "soul " in 
a general sense we understand the system and sum-total of all the 
different kinds of feeling that animate a sentient organism ; and every 
feeling is conceived as the exact analogue of some nervous activity. 
The peculiarity of feelings, such as we know them from our own 
experience, and their practical importance, consist in this, that they 
represent, symbolise, or denote the various things, relations, and 
actions with which they are severally associated. The forms of the 
various feelings depend upon the forms of the conditions under 
which they were experienced, and thus they appear as images of 
the surrounding world. They are subjective states of awareness 
and at the same time pictures of objective reality, and their memo- 
ries, being aglow with life, make up the fabric of personality. 

Sensations and memories remain in constant communication 
among themselves. By a combination of two or more images new 
ideas can be produced ; the process of procreating new images be- 
ing called imagination. The interaction that takes place among the 
various images or representations is called thought. When thought 
remains consistent with itself and in agreement with the possibili- 
ties of actual existence, it is called rational, when it begins to con- 



PANLOGISM. 85 

tradict itself, irrational. 1 Thus reason is in the province of thought 
that same intrinsic necessity and harmony which in objective exist- 
ence is the condition of the cosmic order as it appears in the regu- 
larities which can be formulated in so-called laws of nature. 

When we speak of soul as contrasted with spirit or mind, we 
mainly to the sentiency of representative images ; when we 
speak of spirit, we think mainly of their significance, and when we 
speak of mind we emphasise their rationality. That which pertains 
to sentiment is called psychical ; that which has meaning is called 
spiritual ; that which characterises the rules of the interaction that 
takes place among soul-forms is called mental. 

WHAT IS REASON ? 

We do not now intend to explain the origin of soul, mind, and 
spirit, for we have done so over and over and again ; 2 our purpose 
here must be to elucidate those points which are misrepresented by 
Mr. Fawcett. Suffice it, then, to repeat the definition that man's 
spirituality (his soul, his mind, his spirit) is a system of sentient 
symbols. Wherever feelings (that is to say, states of awareness) 
acquire meaning which is different according to the various forms 
of feeling corresponding to various forms of objective realities, there 
soul originates. Soul, or spirit, or mind, is neither an unknowable 
essence nor a mystical monad-entity, but a definite condition of 
being which depends upon definite forms of organisation, the char- 
acteristic feature of which is representativeness. A definite form of 
feeling is representative if it depicts, if it stands for, and denotes a 
certain reality to which it has become related and associated by re- 
peated experience. The paramount importance of representative- 
ness is obvious, for it is the representative value of feelings which 
renders adaptation to the surrounding world possible. In other 
words, while things devoid of mentality are at the mercy of circum- 

J The problems of the a priori and Pure Reason are discussed in Fundamental 
Problems, pp. 26-60 (Chapter "Form and Formal Thought") and in the Primer of 
Philosophy, pp. 51-117. See also The Monist, Vol. II., No. I, pp. 111-120 ("The 
Origin of Thought-forms"). 

2 Especially in the first chapters of The Soul of Man. 



86 THE MONIST. 

stances, mind acquires the ability of directing and marshalling the 
forces of nature and of making them subservient to certain purposes. 

There are various degrees of mentality, the highest of which 
is the rational comprehension of man. This leads us to the next 
question. 

Reason is, in its last and most practical aspect, the agreement 
of mental actions with the universal conditions of reality. 

The most important feature of reality is its form. Existence in 
the abstract is a mere generalisation, and as such it is that feature 
which all existences have in common ; accordingly, it is the same 
throughout. But the forms of things are that feature of reality 
which determines the suchness of actual existence in every case. 
Yet, while forms vary, the laws of form are invariable and universal. 
The idea of a thing-in-itself is pure fiction, but the conception of 
form in itself (of pure form or absolute form) is not only correct, 
but it is also a truth of great importance. 

The most abstract forms of thought are logical and arithmet- 
ical relations, which can be developed by purely mental experi- 
ment. The simplest instance is afforded in pure numbers, as 
follows : 

We posit a unit (by taking a step or marking it as a dot, or a 
dash, or a stroke, or whatever you like) and call it "one"; we 
posit another unit (taking a second step or making a second mark) 
and call it "two"; another, we call it "three"; again another, we 
call it "four." So long as we keep the same name for exactly the 
same operation, referring it to the same starting point, we shall, 
with the same operations, always arrive at the same results. The 
statement "2+2 = 4" holds good for all operations in which twice 
two units are added, whether it be a planet that makes twice two 
revolutions, or whether a boy plucks twice two apples off an apple- 
tree ; under all circumstances the result will be the same ; it will 
always be four. 

Statements that hold good everywhere are called universal, and 
universality is the characteristic feature of reason. All the laws of 
reason are intrinsically necessary. If we speak of necessity in con- 
nexion with reason, we do not mean compulsion or coercion. The 



PANLOGISM. 87 

immanent necessity of mathematics and logic means nothing more 
nor less than that its application is without exception ; necessity in 
this sense is a synonym of universality. Universality is the most 
characteristic feature of reason, He who denies the universal appli- 
cation of logical thought-operations denies the existence of reason. 
A denial of Panlogism is a denial of the applicability of reason. 

Reason applies not to any particular thing alone ; it refers not 
to here or there only, nor does it describe the yesterday nor the to- 
morrow alone ; it applies everywhere and at all times. Its nature is 
ubiquity and eternity. Reason consists of rules that formulate 
those features of the world which could under no circumstances be 
different those which were the same from the beginning, those 
which would be the same for any imaginable world ; it reflects the 
eternality of being ; it even describes that which does not and need 
not evolve in the cosmic development ; it reduces to exact terms 
what may fittingly be called the supernatural, for it mirrors that 
which applies not only to nature as it actually is, but to any other, 
to any imaginable kind of nature ; it states those laws which would 
remain the same even though the whole world of actual existence 
were broken to pieces. 

Kant is surprised to find reality in agreement with pure reason, 
and seems to take reason as the prior that is to say, "as the prior 
to us," not TTporspov (pvcrsi but Trporepor rffA.iv. But the truth is 
that reality is first ; reality is represented in sensation, and when 
analysed by abstract thought, it is found to possess a certain ina- 
lienable feature which conditions the cosmic order of the world 
and renders the formulation of its regularities possible, and rea- 
son i. e. human reason is nothing but a reflexion of this inalien- 
able feature of reality in consciousness, and originates with the 
apperception of the universality of the law of sameness. 

The world-order is the most important feature of existence ; it 
is that which constitutes the divinity of the cosmos ; it is the Logos 
of the Neoplatonist and the fourth gospel. It is supernatural be- 
cause it is the condition of all possible order. It is what Mr. Fawcett 
calls the Prius, not a prius in time, but in dignity ; not an ante- 
cedent, but the supreme condition of all things. It is that through 



88 THE MONIST. 

which all events can be classified in laws of nature. Being in its 
ultimate analysis the consistency of sameness, it is the condition of 
rationality in the individual reason of human beings. It is that 
which makes mind and purpose-regulated action possible, and is 
the ultimate ground on which all moral conduct rests. 

Fichte's definition of God as the moral world-order is not only 
intelligible but also sensible, but his proposition that God is the 
absolute ego is neither a practical idea nor is it tenable on logical 
grounds; it has no sense. The man who can tell us what "abso- 
ute ego" means has not as yet been found, although it is well 
known how Fichte arrived at his notion of the absolute ego. He 
started from an exaggerated idealism according to which the sole 
reality was his own ego ; a proposition at which his students began 
to make their jokes, saying that Professor Fichte and Mrs. Fichte 
were the only two true realities in the world. And when Fichte 
surrendered his idealism he did not say there was no ego-entity, 
but that all the various egos of human consciousness were phenom- 
ena of the absolute ego, which is God. But the individual history 
of Fichte's philosophical evolution does not justify us in retaining 
a term which testifies to the previous errors of its inventor. 

Mr. Fawcett would probably not regard the cosmic order as 
real unless it were a world-spirit, or ego-monad. But is his theory 
justified ? 

As it was difficult to understand that air exists, so it is the 
more difficult to prove that this immaterial presence of the world- 
Logos is an actual reality, omnipresent and eternal. 

People who are accustomed to imagine that only that exists 
which is material are inclined to regard it as a non-entity ; but it is 
more real than the gravity of stones and the resistance of solid 
bodies. It is not nowhere, but everywhere ; not never, but ever. It 
is the most inalienable quality of being ; it is the most real feature 
of reality, and if we do not appreciate its paramount importance it 
is on account of its very omnipresence and unalterable permanence. 
The attempt to conceive that which in its very nature is superper- 
sonal, as an individual being, as a world-spirit or a world-monad, 
or as an absolute ego, is a misconception of its most important feat- 



PANLOGISM. 89 

ure, of that feature which constitutes its supermateriality, super- 
naturality, and divinity. 

UNITY AND VARIETY. 

The unitary principle that is involved in the universality of law 
does not exclude variety. On the contrary, it involves it. As there 
are not two points in the universe which, in their actual relations to 
the whole, are exactly equivalent, so space, time, and materiality 
are "the germs whence sprout the many," not by haphazard but 
according to the law that, under different conditions, the same com- 
bination will be different according to the conditions. 

Sentient beings become rational by comprehending the univer- 
sal features of existence such as are expressed with precision in the 
formal sciences, logic, arithmetic, and mathematics. While there 
is no unfolding of the Prius, the Logos, the prototype of reason, 
there is an evolution of rationality in sentient beings ; and this 
evolution follows definite laws which, however, are not yet fully 
understood. 

Hegel regards the theory that every thesis begets an antithesis, 
and that the struggle between thesis and antithesis will lead to a 
synthesis, as the highest law of the evolution of thought, the doc- 
trine of which he calls dialectics. He uses the theory of his dia- 
lectics as a Procrustean bed in the history of civilisation and philos- 
ophy, leading to many artificial conceptions and vagaries. But 
while Hegel's dialectical method has its faults, we are not prepared 
to say that any and all dialectics are to be rejected. 

Mr. Fawcett seems to think that all panlogism must be Hegel- 
ianism, and that with the overthrow of Hegelianism panlogism of 
any kind and conception is doomed. 1 Panlogism is an old theory. 
It has practically been the consciously or unconsciously avowed 
tenet of all religion and philosophy. It is the soul of Platonism ; 
it lurks in the fantastic theosophy of Neo-Platonism ; it is beauti- 



1 The same idea prevails among the Hegelians who imagine that Hegelianism 
alone is a consistent philosophy of rational thinking. Of this the article by E. 
Digby in this number is good evidence. While Hegelianism has almost entirely 
disappeared in Germany, it seems still on the increase in England and America. 






90 THE MONIST. 

fully expressed in the Logos theory of the Fourth Gospel ; it is 
not absent in St. Augustine and St. Thomas ; among the school- 
men it is the philosophical background of realism, and finally it is 
the corner-stone of the spirit of modern science ; it is the underlying 
keynote of monism, for arguments of any kind presuppose its truth. 
Without panlogism the universe would be a chaos of innumerable 
particulars, be they monads, or atoms, or what not. But if pan- 
logism be true, the universe is necessarily and intrinsically a unity. 
The unity of the universe is neither local, nor temporal, nor 
material ; it is not comparable either to the center of a circle, or to 
the capital of a country. The unity of the universe is a unitariness 
of its constitution, and not the dominion of a central monad over 
other monads of less importance. It is not a definite unit, but a 
sameness of the laws of existence, a oneness of the cosmic order. 
God is not one in number, but one in kind. He is unique. To 
believe in one God, as opposed to several Gods, is a pagan view 
which is more advanced than polytheism but remains upon the 
same level. 

THE UNITY OF CONSCIOUSNESS. 

The fact upon which Mr. Fawcett builds his monadology is the 
unity of consciousness. The monadologists know very well that 
the mind consists of many images and exhibits a very complicated 
thought-mechanism, but they regard all thoughts as mere tools in 
the possession of the soul-monad. The fact that there is always one 
idea uppermost in a normal consciousness is explained by the as- 
sumption that the soul-monad selects one thought or another as an 
object of its attention. But the unity of consciousness is no more 
a reason for believing that man's soul consists of a monad, than the 
unity of a watch would be for supposing that there is in every watch 
an indivisible watch-monad which causes its hands to denote by 
their position one definite moment of time. The fact that one idea 
is the strongest and monopolises consciousness is no more wonder- 
ful than that a man can at a time walk in one direction only, and 
not in two, three, or four, or that his eyes can focus one object 
only and not two, or three, or more. If every unitary action de- 



PANLOGISM. gi 

manded the presence of a monad, we would be in need of elec- 
tricity-monads for electric currents, engine-monads for every ma- 
chine, and national monads for every nation that has a distinct in- 
dividuality and history of its own. The unity of consciousness does 
not imply that there is a definite and impervious centre in the con- 
scious being but is conditioned by the object of attention, which 
may be a thing outside that is watched, or an idea, a purely mental 
representation that is considered. 

But Mr. Fawcett will say that every man is in possession of an 
ego-consciousness which attests his identity throughout all the 
changes of his life. Yet what is that ego-consciousness but the habit 
of calling oneself by the same name, John Brown or Tom Smith, 
or whatever it be a name which can be replaced by the pronoun 
" I." The word ''I" denotes a man's personality, and his person- 
ality represents certain soul-forms in continuous development. A 
certain stock of thoughts and impulses remains permanent while 
others change and still others are added. Whatever view we take 
of a soul-monad, whether it be conceived as the ever-shifting atten- 
tion that determines the unity of consciousness, or as the notion of 
one's own self, subsumed under the collective word-structure "I," 
or the continuity of our life-history, it can never be conceived as a 
centre. There are various ways of conceiving the unity of man's 
mental organisation, but this unity is not one of place or substance, 
and a monad-conception is perfectly redundant. 

THE IDENTITY OF PERSONALITY A PRESERVATION OF FORM. 

The immortality of the soul depends according to Mr. Fawcett 
upon the preservation of the monad of a man, a very precarious 
immortality, indeed, for this monad is a very hypothetical creature. 
But so enthusiastic is he about the preference of his monadology 
that he fails to understand the monistic conception of immortality. 
He says, "If body and soul are inseparable, the soul must die with 
the body." Thus, he concludes, the monistic conception of immor- 
tality is "a mockery in all seriousness." 

Now it is true that monism insists in a certain sense upon the 
inseparableness of body and soul ; we cannot cut the soul out of 



92 THE MONIST. 

the body and say, here is my soul and there is my body. There 
are not souls in themselves. Wherever a soul exists, it is incar- 
nated in a body. Mr. Fawcett might, in his imagination, pride 
himself on being able to remove the monad from the bodily system. 
It would be interesting to witness the experiment and to see what 
a monad looks like, how it is benefited by the mental acquisitions 
registered in the brain, and whither it migrates after its separation 
from the body ; but other mortals like myself, who are less imagina- 
tive, will, so long as nothing is known about monads, find no com- 
fort in his hypothesis. 

But if there is no soul-monad, must we not accept the dreary 
theory that the soul dies with the body ? 

Mr. Fawcett forgets that while the soul is always inseparably 
connected with materiality, it is not identical with the body. We 
repeat : soul is the form of feelings, and the form of feelings de- 
pends upon the form of the nerve-activity of an organised system ; 
and every organised system consists of definitely arranged groups 
of material combinations. The soul is preserved wherever the form 
is preserved ; but the preservation of soul-forms does not depend 
upon the retention of those material particles which at a given mo- 
ment constitute the body. The fact is familiar that the material 
particles of living beings are constantly changing. Life, physio- 
logically considered, is Stoffwechsel, a constant flux of materials. 
There is no sameness of substance whatever. The identity of a 
living being involving the sentiments of consciousness is not main- 
tained through the presence of a monad, but through the preserva- 
tion of its form. All the many subconscious and conscious memo- 
ries which form the elements of our mentality are definite traces 
of former sense-impressions, reacting upon sense-impressions, and 
embodying sentiments, and thoughts, the forms of which are pre- 
served in the cerebral system, the substance of which is constantly 
changing. Am I for that reason another person because I cannot 
think the same thought twice with the same molecules ? Does the 
thought change because the oxygen engaged in the first act of 
thinking has now entered new combinations and is soon to be dis- 
carded from the system as waste material ? We might as well de- 



PANLOGISM. 93 

clare that the significance of a word changes when it is written once 
in pencil and once in ink. Man's personal identity consists not in 
any way in an identity of material particles, but in the sameness of 
form which is preserved by the continuity of his existence. 

IMMORTALITY. 

The continuity of life appears to be broken in death ; but we 
must emphasise that it is not broken, it only appears to be broken. 
Every action in which a man manifests himself is a preservation of 
his peculiar personality, it preserves his individual life-forms and 
immortalises him. The spheres of influence vary greatly, but no 
man can fail within the range of his circle to impress his soul upon 
the future evolution of the race. The evolution of life on earth is 
as continuous as the life of every individual being ; and every in- 
dividual being is such as he is only because the soul-treasures of 
former life are hoarded up in him ; he is not a beginning from noth- 
ing but represents the continuation of the soul-forms of which he 
consists at the start of his life. He is the product of evolution. He 
adds something of his own, be it little or much as the case may be, 
and impresses his soul into the new life that grows up around him. 

These considerations are not fancies, but descriptions of the 
facts of life. This immortality is a truth and, indeed, an indubitable 
truth, which no one can deny. The same continuity of soul that 
takes place in every individual life, can be traced in the develop- 
ment of the whole of mankind. Mr. Fawcett has not offered a refu- 
tation. All he can say against it is that he is not pleased with it. 
He says : 

1 ' For myself I would not give two pence for an immortality of this kind, and 
I have no doubt that the average man in the street will heartily echo my senti- 
ments." 

We may fairly grant that the average man in the street does 
not care for preserving his soul in the further evolution of mankind, 
but Mr. Fawcett will scarcely pride himself on the applause of the 
vulgar, should his monadology be unfortunate enough to receive it. 
We might as well revive the Inquisition as an ultimate authority of 
orthodoxy as enthrone the man of the street upon the tribunal of 



94 THE MONIST. 

truth for deciding what shall be or shall not be acceptable. What- 
ever the man of the street may think, the fact remains that there 
is a preservation of soul-forms, and evolution would be a very mys- 
terious process if this kind of soul-immortality through the continu- 
ous preservation of soul-forms were not true. 

Quoting from me the sentence that "Christ is actually a living 
presence in humanity," Mr. Fawcett says : 

"No, no, not so fast. The Nazarene's body has long ago mouldered into dust, 
assuming that he ever lived. His soul therefore, on the lines of monistic positiv- 
ism has been extinguished. What is ' present in humanity ' is not Christ, but ideas 
about Christ, which is a very different matter." 

Now we concede that ideas about Christ are not Christ him- 
self ; but the ideas #/ Christ are Christ. The soul of Jesus did not 
depend upon that heap of atoms which constituted his body ; the 
soul of a man consists in the thought-forms and word-forms which 
dominate his entire being and determine his conduct. The soul of 
Jesus consists in his teachings, and his teachings are preserved in 
words which have now been translated into all languages of the 
world. The words of Jesus are his soul, and his soul is immortal, 
and this is good Christian teaching too ; it is not a church-dogma 
but it is the doctrine of the Christ of the Fourth Gospel. 

We read in John vi. , 63, and to indicate the importance of the 
quotation I quote it in pica : 

" It is the spirit that quickeneth ; the flesh profiteth 
u nothing. The words that I speak unto you, they are 
" spirit and they are life." 

This is no figure of speech, but literal truth. Spirit is not 
a substance ; spirit is the significance of words ; and what is more 
significant than words that are true. Words are spirit, and it is the 
spirit that quickeneth. Christ lives where the word of Christ is re- 
ceived and where it becomes the motive of conduct. The materiality 
of man's life, the human body, is in its way important enough, but 
it is important only as the vessel of spirit. The body is not the man ; 
the atoms are not his soul ; the corporeal is not the highest and 
the immortal part of our being ; and, in spite of the temporary in- 



PANLOG1SM. 



95 



separableness of soul and body, there is no truth in the identifica- 
tion of soul and body. 

The soul of a man is inseparable from his body ; and yet the 
soul is a distinct and disparate reality which can be preserved while 
the body is dissolved. In the same way matter and energy are in- 
separable. There can be no energy without matter and no matter 
without energy. Yet energy is a distinct and disparate reality. It 
can be transferred from the burning coal to the water in the boiler, 
and from the water in the boiler through the steam to the wheels of 
the engine. 1 

THE IMMORTALITY OF BOOKS. 

Take an illustration. Here is the Bible. It consists, as all 
books, of many sheets of paper covered with little characters in 
black. Is the Bible destroyed if this copy of the Bible be burned? 
No, not at all. That which constitutes the Bible is not the ma- 
terial ; it consists of those subtle forms which convey the spirit of 
the Bible. The spirit of the Bible, as it is embodied in the forms 
of printed words, is impressed upon the paper in printer's ink, but 
this spirit of the Bible does not consist of paper and printer's ink. 
Thoughts cannot be burned, and soul cannot be crushed by de- 
stroying the forms in which it resides. The inquisitors proposed 
to extirpate heresy and burned many thousands of heretics, yet 
they could not quench the spirit, and the heretics have now become 
the leading nations of the earth. 



l l limit myself in my reply to Mr. Fawcett to refuting those points regarding 
which a difference of opinion obtains. It would lead me too far to explain the 
various misconceptions of which I find him sometimes guilty. Suffice it to mention 
that by monism I understand a unitary world-conception, but not a system of 
thought which explains all facts as phases of one principle. (See Mr. Fawcett's 
article, p. 77, lines 12 and 13.) Matter and mind, body and soul, that which is 
perceptible by the senses, and spirit, are quite disparate realities. They cannot be 
conceived as mere phases of one and the same underlying principle. They are 
radically different abstracts, but they are abstracts made from one and the same 
reality. The view which subsumes the various qualities of existence under one 
head, regarding material phenomena as phases of mind, or mental phenomena as 
phases of matter, is a pseudo-monism which I propose to call henism. I insist that 
the unity of the whole of existence and the consistency of all truth do not involve 
the ultimate identity of the various qualities of existence. 



96 THE M ON I ST. 

THE SIMILE OF THE SEAL. 

Another instance of the preservation of form is the imprint of 
a seal. And indeed the simile is good because it shows, in a better 
way than the printing of a book, the immateriality of form. The 
paper receives the form of the letters which constitute the book in 
printer's ink. There is a transfer of matter and thus the allegory 
is apt to be misunderstood ; but the imprint of a seal is no material 
transfer whatever. In making a seal-imprint we distribute a certain 
amount of sealing-wax on paper and stamp the seal on it. The 
amount of sealing-wax is the same before and after ; but before the 
stamping there is no seal ; the seal originates through the im- 
pression. 

The seal may break or be destroyed, but it can be reproduced, 
and, whenever the selfsame form is again imprinted into wax, there 
the seal will reappear. True, there is no seal without sealing-wax 
or whatever other material be used, but the seal is not the mate- 
rial ; the seal is the form which is impressed upon the material. 

MIND AND MORALITY. 

Taking the facts of experience as the ultimate test of truth, 
and accepting scientifically elucidated statements of fact as the 
guide of conduct, we arrive at the conclusion that spirit is para- 
mount in importance, and body is of no account whatever save in 
the service of the spirit. The value of anything material and also 
the value of our bodily make-up must be measured by its usefulness 
in the support and growth of the soul. In itself the flesh profiteth 
nothing. Inorganic nature is indifferent ; the storm, the sunlight, 
the ocean, are neither moral nor immoral ; they are neither good 
nor bad ; they become good or bad simply through mind. If in the 
starry heavens two celestial bodies should meet in collision, their 
conflagration would be of significance only if somewhere living souls 
were affected ; otherwise it is more indifferent than a child's sneeze. 

I do not say that good and evil are mere illusions. Good and 
evil are actual facts ; but in saying that good and bad, right and 



PANLOGISM. 97 

wrong, moral and immoral, virtue and vice, are features of the 
mind, it is the use of mind that produces these contrasts by its at- 
titude when confronted with the duties that life imposes. 

Mr. Fawcett has a very low opinion of mind. He says : 

"If right and wrong, good and bad, only exist in our mentality, it appears 
that the meliorist is sacrificing himself merely for a figment of his own imagina- 
tion, a barren, thankless ideal of his own making." 

This is both a misconception of what I said and an undervalu- 
ation of man's mental activity. I say Facts in the objective word 
are neither right nor wrong ; facts are real ; they are neither true 
nor false. If a geometer measures the height of a mountain, his cal- 
culation may be right or wrong ; but the height of the mountain is 
not wrong when it turns out to be different from what we expected. 
In a word : Facts are real, but ideas representing facts are either 
right or wrong. Error and truth belong to the realm of mentality. 
Unmental things are neither vicious nor virtuous ; virtue and vice 
rise into being together with mind, for they are attitudes of mental 
aspiration. 

THE PURPOSE OF LIFE. 

He who cannot comprehend the essentiality of form will never 
free himself from materialism in philosophy, psychology, and ethics. 
He will not appreciate that the most important realities are imma- 
terial. He will try to think God and soul as substances or entities 
and seek the purpose of life in pleasure. 

Mr. Fawcett's monads are entities. They are, closely consid- 
ered, substances which, for the sake of ridding them of gross mate- 
riality, have been reduced to atomic size ; and, as to the ethical 
aspect of life, Mr. Fawcett finds no value in soul-growth, in the ac- 
quisition of truth ; in the comprehension of life and of its meaning, 
in the self-realisation of the soul apart from pleasures that may or 
may not accompany our mental evolution. There is no value in 
these or other accomplishments except they produce happiness. I 
said somewhere that evolution consists in the expanse of the soul 
and in a growth of mind, but that there is no perceptible increase of 
happiness. The ratio between our wants and their satisfaction re- 



98 THE MON1ST. 

mains about the same, and, while it is true that many pains are 
alleviated, there is at the same time an increase of sensibility to 
pain. Thus there is rather a decrease of happiness in evolution, 
for children enjoy life better than adult people, and, in comparison 
with the lower races; who in their ignorance and simplicity are as 
happy as children, the most civilised people appear morose and 
gloomy. A wise man is not happier than a fool ; on the contrary, 
the fool is mostly merrier than a wise man, who foregoes many 
joys because of his deeper wisdom. Of course there are intellectual 
and moral pleasures, which, if not greater, are nobler, than the 
greatest merriment of fools. But it is not (as Mr. Fawcett thinks) 
the pleasure which gives value to moral aspirations. He says : 

' ' Meliorism does not find the value of life in reaping pleasures. Neverthe- 
less, a value that does not relieve pain or produce, or tend to produce, pleasure, is a 
thing which I, for one, confess myself at a loss to understand. The term, in fact, seems 
meaningless. I fail entirely to see why we should vex ourselves here with cease- 
less strivings and strugglings, when the cosy nooks of degeneration lie open to us." 

Certainly we need not strive and struggle. We have our choice. 
We can prefer the cosy nooks of degeneration, and if we prefer 
them we shall have them. There are countries which are governed 
upon the principle that progress is an evil, and there life is, in many 
respects, much pleasanter and quieter. Life in England, and espe- 
cially in North America, makes great demands upon the people, 
and urges them to exert themselves to the utmost of their abilities. 
He who measures the values of life by the amount of pain relieved 
and the greatness of pleasures realised will pity them and regard 
their lives as failures. How different (and I, for one, say how much 
truer) is the standard of value given by the psalmist when he says : 

' ' The days of our years are threescore years and ten ; 
" and if, by reason of strength, they be fourscore years, 
yet is their strength labor and sorrow.' 1 ' 1 (xc., 10.) 



(. < 



I have surrendered the Apostolic creed in its literal acceptance, 
but I have never ceased to appreciate this sentence of the psalmist 
on account of its deep truth. In my mental evolution I have been 
alienated from the Christianity of my childhood ; I have abandoned 



PANLOGISM. 99 

the dogmatism of church-doctrines ; and I have surrendered the 
paganism of believing in the letter that killeth. I have dared to 
seek the direct revelation of God in the facts of life and, in taking 
the consequences of my radicalism, I became more and more con- 
vinced that God spoke to the prophets and to Christ in no different 
language from what he speaks to us ; to you, to me, or to any one who 
is willing to listen. However much the spirit of Bible teachings is 
misunderstood ; nay, whatever errors the authors of the Bible may 
have been subject to, this much seems sure that they hit upon sev- 
eral very important moral truths which are by no means antiquated. 
From the standpoint of positive monism, I find them verified, and 
considering the errors of hedonistic ethics which cannot but lead 
people astray on the most important questions of life, I find that 
there is more truth in the two Bible passages quoted in this article 
than can be found in all the average irreligious literature of to-day. 
The doctrines of the old religions are in many respects misleading, 
but in so far as they teach right ethics, I do not hesitate to say 
that they reveal the truth. He who imagines that the purpose of 
life is enjoyment will, when he tries to realise the hedonistic prin- 
ciple, be unfailingly and sorely disappointed. 

The evolution of mind is not important for itself alone ; it is 
important also and mainly as a revelation of the eternal in exist- 
ence. Mind is an appearance of truth ; it is an incarnation of God. 
The purpose of mind, accordingly, is its own self-realisation, it is 
a higher and higher development of truth. The purpose of life is 
mental growth and mental evolution. Mind hungers for truth ; and 
truth is not only intellectual comprehension but also religious de- 
votion ; it is not mere theory but a motive for action. Thoughts 
are not pure conceits, but motor impulses of a definite character, 
and, therefore, it is not simply a notion but a power. The more 
man acquires of truth, the more is he ensouled by God. 

Priests have built temples and cathedrals, they have carved 
dols and images of God, they have worshipped all kinds of sym- 
bols and regarded them as holy but there is nothing holy except 
truth, and the highest aim a man can have is leading a life of truth. 

EDITOR. 



SUBCONSCIOUS PANGEOMETRY. 

FROM the press of Teubner in Leipsic has just appeared a work 
which perhaps can best be described as a book on "The 
Non-Euclidean Geometry Inevitable." This book, The Theory of 
Parallels? by Paul Staeckel, in conjunction with Friedrich Engel, 
is a marvel of German accuracy, depth, and withal enterprise. 2 

It confers an inestimable boon on thinkers by giving them the 
actual documents which are the slow, groping awakening of the 
world-mind at the gradual dawning of what has now become the 
full day of self-conscious non-Euclidean geometry. 

To one who appreciates the judicial weight of German scholar- 
ship, it must be highly gratifying to recognise its sanction of the 
position first put forth in The Monist, beginning, loc. cit. p. 486 : 
"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/' etc. 

Says Staeckel, p. 3 : "Es ist kein Zufall, dass die ersten acht- 
undzwanzig Satze von der fiinften Forderung, dem sogenannten 
Parallelenaxiom, durchaus unabhangig sind, und dass dieses erst 
beim Beweise des neunundzwanzigsten Satzes eintritt ; es ist kein 
Zufall, dass der Aussenwinkel des Dreiecks an zwei Stellen be- 
handelt wird : zuerst, in Satz 16, wird nur gezeigt, dass er grosser 

1 See The Monist, July, 1894, pp. 483-493. 

2 The full title of the book runs : Die 7 heorie der Parallellinien von Euklid bis 
auf Gauss, Eine Urkundensammlung zur Vorgeschichte der nichteuklidischen Geo- 
metrie. In Gemeinschaft mit Friedrich Engel herausgegeben von Paul Stackel. 
Mit 145 Figuren im Text und der Nachbildung eines Briefes von Gauss. Leipsic : 
B. G. Teubner. 1895. Pages, 325. Price, 9 Mks. 



SUBCONSCIOUS PANGEOMETKV. IOI 

ist als jeder der beiden ihm gegenuberliegenden inneren Winkel, 
und erst spater, in Satz 32, stellt sich heraus, dass der Aussenwinkel 
der Summe jener beiden inneren Winkel genau gleich ist. 

" Diese Anordnung berechtigt zu dem Schlusse, dass Euklid die 
in der Parallelentheorie verborgene Schwierigkeit sehr wohl durch- 
schaut hat." 

The very pretty point made 1 against all the modern English 
translations and editions in reference to the different and more ele- 
gant form given by Euclid in Proposition 29 to his celebrated Par- 
allel-postulate is confirmed by Staeckel's re-translation of the origi- 
nal Greek, " wie er in Heiberg's neuer ausgezeichneter Ausgabe 
vorliegt." 

Saccheri discussed the contribution made by Wallis to the 
theory of parallels, and Staeckel, after his re-translation of Euclid's 
Book I., through Prop. 32, gives this passage from Wallis, and 
then proceeds to Saccheri himself. 

In The Monist, p. 489, a sentence was quoted from Dr. Emory 
McClintock 2 in regard to Saccheri, with grave doubts. It reads : 
"He confessed to a distracting heretical tendency on his part in 
favor of the hypothesis anguli acuti, a tendency against which, how- 
ever, he kept up a perpetual struggle (diuturnum proeliuni)" 

Translating Saccheri's book into English strengthened these 
doubts into the conviction that the whole was an error based on a 
mistranslation of the passage pointed out by the two Latin words 
retained in parenthesis. A letter embodying this conviction was 
written to Dr. McClintock, who thereupon made a special trip to 
the Astor Library to read again Beltrami's article on Saccheri, en.- 
titled : Un precursors italiano di Legendre et di Lobatschewsky. He 
thereupon answered : 

"I have just read Beltrami in the Astor Library, also my own 
paper. Saccheri was always fighting against the heretical results 
of his own logic on behalf of what he obviously considered God's 
truth. 



Monist. p. 488. 
^Bulletin of the New York Mathematical Society, Vol. II., p. 145. 



102 THE MONIST. 

"I did not speak of him as yielding; but one who is battling 
manfully against the productions of his mind may fairly be de- 
scribed, I think, in the words you dispute, though Saccheri's 'con- 
fession ' is implicit and not explicit. 

"I should have done better to use the words 'suffered from' 
for 'confessed to,' though there is sufficient confession in the 'pro- 
elium.' 

"Beltrami is disgusted by the unexpected triumph of faith over 
logic. 

" 'Or qui crederebbe che subito dopo la proposizione test citata 
il lettore dovesse vedersi comparire innonzi quest' altra. [Prop. 33.] 
Eppure e proprio cosi. L'Autore fa un lunghissimo discorso per 
conestare piuttosto che dimostrare cotesto suo asserto. . . . Si di- 
rebbe quasi che I'Autore, piu che a convincere altrui, si adoperi a per- 
suadere se stesso. . . .'" 

But still the conviction remained that there was no adequate 
ground in Saccheri for this interpretation of the "diuturnum pro- 
elium" passage. 

A transcript of a considerable portion of the only copy of Sac- 
cheri's book then on this continent was made and sent to Dr. 
McClintock. He at once replied : 

"I thank you for the manuscript, which I shall take care of 
and return. Now I need to consult Beltrami' s article again. 

"The original context of the 'diuturnum proelium' gives me a 
wholly novel view of it, instantly. It was a reference to a 'running 
fight ' on paper, part of a mere summary of the book. 

"I had supposed it to be a bit of mental autobiography. 

"I do not doubt that Beltrami's mention of it is not inconsis- 
tent with the meaning Saccheri intended, yet it failed, even the 
other day after your question, to suggest to me the true meaning. 
I will write again after I can get to the Library. 

"You can blame me and the lack of context, not Beltrami, 
unless his suggestion that Saccheri was trying to persuade himself, 
may have helped." 

The article in The Monist continues as follows: "The Inquisi- 
tor-general and the Archbishop of Milan saw Saccheri's book on 



SUBCONSCIOUS PANGEOMETRY. 103 

July 13, 1733; the Provincial of the Company of Jesus on August 
J 6, 1733- Within less than two months Saccheri was dead and 
buried. Not so his book. It was reviewed in the Ada Eruditorum 
in 1736. It was probably in the library at Gottingen about 1790- 
1800, for it is marked with an asterisk in the Bibliotheca Mathematica 
of Murhard. In this work it is signalised (I. II., p. 43) among the 
writings consecrated to the explication, to the criticism, or to the 
defence of Euclid (Einleitungs- und Erlauterungsschriften, auch An- 
griff e und Vertheidigungen des Euklides}. It therefore attained a cer- 
tain notoriety. Did it escape the notice of Gauss ? " 

This suggestion has now been verified by Engel and Staeckel 
(p. 38) with truly German minuteness. "Der Euclides ab omni 
naevo vindicatus scheint ein ziemlich verbreitetes Buch gewesen 
zu sein. In Deutschland haben wir sein Vorhandensein auf den 
Koniglichen Bibliotheken zu Berlin und Dresden und auf den Uni- 
versitatsbibliotheken in Gottingen (seit 1770), Halle, Rostock und 
Tubingen festgestellt. " 

In the very brief sketch of Lambert by F. W. Cornish of Eton 
College, inserted in the Encyclopaedia Britannica in 1882, how did it 
happen that from the mass of Lambert's papers one of the few 
mentioned should be that on parallel lines ? If any hint of its known 
or possible interest was meant, it bore fruit; for only in 1893 and 
by accident did Staeckel discover in Lambert a precursor of Bolyai 
and Lobachewski. In the present book seventy-two pages are de- 
voted to this treatise of Lambert. It is a developed consistent 
non-Euclidean geometry. 

In some points it falls short of Saccheri ; for instance, in not 
reaching Lobachewski's highly interesting ' ' boundary-lines. " 

But in other respects it goes beyond Saccheri. Its examina- 
tion, as compared to the writings on which the claims for Gauss are 
made, shows some startling coincidences. 

That it was familiar to Gauss is clear from the letter of Bessel 
to Gauss, Feb. 10, 1829, where it is referred to as something well- 
known in the following paragraph : 

" Durch das, was Lambert gesagt hat und was Schweikardt 
mundlich ausserte, ist mir klar geworden, dass unsere Geometric 



104 THE MONIST. 

unvollstandig ist und eine Korrektion erhalten sollte, welche hypo- 
thetisch ist, und wenn die Summe der Winkel des ebenen Dreiecks 
= 1 80 ist, verschwindet. 

"Das ware die wahre Geometric, die Euklidische aber die prak- 
tische, wenigstens fur die Figuren auf der Erde. " 

Says Lambert, 79: "Ich habe aber vornehmlich bey der drit- 
ten Hypothese [angle-sum < 180] solche Folgsatze aufgesucht, 
um zu sehen, ob sich nicht Widerspruche aussern wiirden. Aus 
Allem sah ich, dass sich diese Hypothese gar nicht leicht umstossen 
lasst. 

"Die erheblichste von solchen Folgen ist, dass, wenn die dritte 
Hypothese statt hdtte, wir absolutes Maass der Ldnge haben wiirden." 

Says Gauss in his letter to Taurinus, 1824: "Die Annahme, 
dass die Summe der 3 Winkel kleiner sei als 180, fiihrt auf eine 
eigne von der unsrigen (Euklidischen) ganz verschiedene Geo- 
metric. . . . Alle meine Bemiihungen, einen Widerspruch, eine In- 
consequenz in dieser Nicht- Euklidischen Geometric zu finden, sind 
fruchtlos gewesen, und das Einzige was unserm Verstande darin 
widersteht, ist, dass es, ware sic wahr, im Raum eine an sich be- 
stimmte (obwohl uns unbekannte) Lineargrosse geben miisste." 

Says Lambert, p. 200: "Diese Folge hat etwas Reizendes, 
welches leicht den Wunsch abdringt, die dritte Hypothese mochte 
doch wahr seyn ! ' ' 

Says Gauss, p. 250 : " Ich habe daher wohl zuweilen im Scherz 
den Wunsch geaussert, dass die Euklidische Geometric nicht die 
Wahre ware, weil wir dann ein absolutes Maass a priori haben 
wiirden." 

Again Lambert shows that the formulas of this non-Euclidean 
geometry are simply those of spherics on an imaginary sphere. 
Now what Dr. McClintock {Bulletin, Vol. II., p. 146), calls "the 
important formula for the circumference of a circle published later 
by the younger Bolyai," given in 1831 by Gauss in a letter to Schu- 
macher, is nothing but the elementary expression for the circum- 
ference of a circle on a sphere where the radius r has been replaced 
by rV i. Moreover it is now known that Bolyai Janos discovered 
his system of Pangeometry in 1823. 



SUBCONSCIOUS PANGEOMETRY. 105 

In a letter of May 17, 1831, Gauss says: "Von meinen eignen 
Meditationen, . . . wovon ich aber nie etwas aufgeschrieben habe, 
. . . habe ich vor einigen Wochen doch einiges aufzuschreiben an- 
gefangen. Ich wunschte doch, dass es nicht mit mir unterginge." 

It is mentioned in The Monist that in a letter to Schumacher, 
Gauss tells him that "a certain Schvveikardt has given to this 
geometry the name of Astralgeometrie," and Gauss added in regard 
to him the brief note: " Friiher in Marburg, jetzt Professor der 
Jurisprudenz in Konigsberg." On p. 9, of the English translation 
of Vasiliev's Address on Lobachewski is the sentence : Taurinus in 
his Theorie der Parallellinien (1825) says : " The idea of a geometry 
in which the sum of the angles of a triangle is less than two right 
angles was already communicated to me four years ago (by my 
uncle, Prof. S., in K., then still in M.)." 

Ferdinand Karl Schweikart (1780-1857) studied from 1796 to 
1798 in Marburg, attending there the mathematical lectures of 
J. K. F. Hauff, who since 1793 had published different writings on 
the question of parallels. From 1812 he was professor in Charkov ; 
from 1816 in Marburg ; from 1820 in Konigsberg. Entirely by him- 
self, without the slightest suggestion from any man, he developed 
and taught a non-Euclidean geometry. 

Engel and Staeckel seem to delight in the perfect proof of his 
independence from even the remotest connexion with Gauss. 

Gerling (1788-1864) from 1817 professor of astronomy at Mar- 
burg, wrote to Bolyai Farkas : "We had here about this time [1819] 
a law professor, Schweikart, who had previously been in Charkov, 
and had attained similar ideas, since, without aid of the Euclidean 
axiom he developed in its elements a geometry, which he called 
astralgeometry. What he communicated to me in regard to it, I 
sent Gauss, who then communicated how much farther had already 
been advanced on this way [wie viel weiter man schon auf diesem 
Wege gekommen]." Can this refer to Saccheri or Lambert? Our 
authors say, p. 252: " Schweikart 's achievement consists in this, 
that independently he clearly recognised and declared the possibil- 
ity and the justification of a non-Euclidean geometry." 

It is satisfactory to give every one the place justly due in what 



106 THE MONIST. 

will perhaps be eventually looked upon as the profoundest achieve- 
ment of modern thought, but it is really comforting to have re- 
affirmed as the mature outcome of this splendid work what has 
already long been the world's judgment, that Bolyai and Loba- 
chewski must be looked upon as the real founders of the non- 
Euclidean geometry. 

GEORGE BRUCE HALSTED. 
AUSTIN, TEXAS. 



LITERARY CORRESPONDENCE. 

FRANCE. 

The new book of M. FR. PAULHAN, Les types intellectuels, 
Esprits logiques et espr its faux, is a continuation and amplification of 
its predecessor, Les caracteres. M. Paulhan attempts a searching 
examination of the human mind, with a view to indicating such of 
its qualities as can be arranged in a definitely graduated scale, the 
model of which is a perfected psychological scheme defined a priori. 
The author discovers the required psychological model in system- 
atic association or in "finality," and I shall not attack his doctrine 
upon this point, but shall restrict my remarks to his mode of arran- 
ging intellectual types. 

The author is guided by a distinction, antecedently made, be- 
tween the form of mind, or its modes of operation, and its matter, 
or the thoughts and images characteristic of men as members of 
classes. Is this distinction a legitimate one ? It doubtless is so, 
for the rational or irrational character of the mind (I should have 
preferred the antithesis Esprits justes et esprits faux} may manifest 
itself alike in two totally different persons, say a musician and a 
jurist, who do not work upon the same materials, and who make 
use of different thoughts and images. There are reasoning and un- 
reasoning types of poetical imagination, as I myself pointed out 
not long ago. Nevertheless, I believe there are difficulties in the 
path on which M. Paulhan has ventured. 

No one will think of disputing his right to establish, first, a 
primary series of intellectual characteristics, resting, as he would 
formulate it, (i) upon the degree of independence asserted by the 



108 THE MONIST. 

intellect over the emotions and (2) upon the form of the mind's as- 
sociations, and then subsequently to set up a secondary series 
founded upon the thoughts and images with which the mind oper- 
ates. But have we not here two principles of classification absolutely 
independent rather than a set of characters naturally subordinated 
to one another ? Do not categories oiform and categories of mat- 
ter apply to two facts alike general and alike important accord- 
ing to the view which we take of them ? The method pursued by 
M. Paulhan consists, therefore, in discovering in single individu- 
als, viewed apart, such and such marks, all of which have been pre- 
viously denned by abstract analysis. It offers thus a means of giv- 
ing excellent descriptions and highly finished portraits. But if we 
attempt to assort individuals by the rigid categories here marked 
out we shall run the risk of dissipating the total personality of the 
individual, and of losing it altogether. The method culminates 
rather in a reasoned set of interrogatories than in a real classifi- 
cation. 

"Between abstract laws and individuals," writes M. Paulhan r 
"there are no mental groups no intellectual species having inter- 
est for general psychology." By this declaration he seems to have 
definitely circumscribed his plan and to deny all psychological 
value to the natural history of societies founded upon such spon- 
taneously engendered groups as race, classes, and professions. Yet 
is it not undeniable that the choice of a profession presupposes 
some profound resemblances between individuals who may in other 
respects be unlike ? This is an open question. But the creation 
of professional types encounters difficulties and is susceptible of 
criticism, the justness of which I can all the more appreciate from 
having once personally attempted the task. I am by no means 
pleading pro domo med, but am concerned only with discovering 
the truth. In fine, then, I understand perfectly well how M. Paul- 
han can produce good portraits by his method, but am at a loss 
to perceive how his individuals are to be classified in relation to 
one another ; and I particularly doubt if the groups obtained by 
his methods will ever exhibit anything approaching to lifelike objec- 
tivity or reality. 



LITERARY CORRESPONDENCE. IOQ 

In the meantime it will be well to await the appearance of the 
second volume, which M. Paulhan has announced, when we can 
judge of the entire work with perfect knowledge. A high value it 
will always possess, both by its wealth of details and by the place 
which it occupies in the philosophical thought of the master. I 
should offer some apology for having devoted so few lines to the 
commendation of the book if that were not superfluous in the case 

of a writer of the author's standing. 

* 

* * 

M. L. MARILLIER offers us a French translation of the learned 
work of ANDREW LANG, Mythes, cultes et religions. As there is no 
necessity of speaking of the work itself here, I shall apply myself to 
the remarkable introduction which the translator has prefixed to it. 
M. Marillier first refers to the new direction which the study of re- 
ligion has taken, in consequence of which the anthropological and 
psychological school has dethroned the philological school followed 
by Max Miiller. The comparative study of religions will enable us, 
he says, to disclose this truth that there exists a religion common 
to all humanity, or at least a mythology based upon ideas and 
modes of knowing and feeling, which are the same for all human 
beings, no matter what their race or nationality may be. In the 
presence of the phenomena of nature men have everywhere put the 
same questions and given approximately the same answers. The 
myths are innumerable, but may be reduced to a small number of 
types. Mythologies, in fine, lie at the foundations of all religious 
edifices ; they represent a common aggregate of ideas and of senti- 
ments, and at the beginning took the place of theology, science, 
and ethics. 

Are myths things of the past ? Must we accept with Comte 
that the different forms of thought in succeeding each other replace 
each other ? M. Marillier is not of this opinion. He does not be- 
lieve that science will eliminate metaphysics. All depends upon 
the significance in which the word is used, for the answer will be 
different according as we consider the lower or the higher forms of 
speculation. Sound knowledge will never exclude broad and com- 
prehensive inductions ; but it is incompatible, in one and the same 



HO THE MONIST. 

mind, with arbitrary and infantile fancies which have not the char- 
acter of positive hypotheses. Comte made an unfortunate applica- 
tion of the vague word metaphysics, and one which has consider- 
ably injured his doctrine. It is advisable to extend his conception 
instead of narrowing it, and then the incontestable truth which it 
expresses will appear in its full light. 

M. Marillier also apparently reproaches Comte with having 
failed to recognise the existence of a special religious emotion. But 
what can such a religious emotion mean, separated from all "dog- 
matic affirmation" and from all "moral precepts"? Is it sufficient 
to assure the existence of religion, that "assemblage of emotional 
states, of sentiments and desires," to which M. Marillier attributes 
distinct originality, although comparing it to sesthetical emotions ? 
The religious emotion, in my eyes, is intimately connected with 
the mental state of the individual and the race, and it is dependent 
at all times upon the beliefs actually living in the minds of men. It 
is the echo, in the emotional life, of our conception of the world, 
whether the same be derived from tradition or from science, whether 
it be formed of faith or of scientific hypothesis. And this religious 
emotion actually offers widely diverging characteristics, even in 
men like Francis de Assisi and a Vincent de Paul, in Herbert 
Spencer and Guyau, not to speak of the savage who has his head 
full of superstitions and terrors. It does not wear with all of us 
the same dress ; it is continually modifying, according to the state 
of our general beliefs ; it is a reflected product of the psychological 
state, or if you wish, a particular aspect of our fundamental emo- 
tions, but not a spontaneous and primordial fact. Every attempt 
at constructing a religion ought therefore to aim at producing a 
new knowledge, a new view of the world, which would thereupon 
engender a corresponding emotion. Thus it is I conceive the con- 
tinuity and evolution of religious life, upon a basis common to the 
whole human species. Otherwise, if religion were not the work of 
man himself and a product of his culture, we should be forced to 
revert to supernatural revelations and to the mysteries of an in- 
explicable psychology. 



LITERARY CORRESPONDENCE. Ill 

M. SULLY PRUDHOMME, in his Que sais-je ? Examen de conscience, 1 
has taken up the fundamental problems of philosophy. He " re- 
thinks" them after his own fashion, but does not succeed in eluci- 
dating them. Neither the notions of existence and of substance, 
nor the doctrines of free will and determinism receive new light 
from his complicated analyses. The fact is that, worn out at last 
by the effort he has put forth, the poet takes refuge in " sentiment"; 
and by sentiment he understands a genuine inward revelation, the 
connecting bond of which with any sort of metaphysical existence 
escapes us. He has borrowed from his excursion into the domain 
of modern science a prudence that discomposes him and runs coun- 
ter to his true philosophical nature, which tends to ancient idealism. 
He is precise neither as to the meaning of soul nor as to that of 
ideals. His vision is stationary and without support, and his criti- 
cisms are nowhere striking. But it is surprising that he has re- 
tained the phantom of the unknowable after having properly enough 
declared that he regards it merely as a synonym of what will always 
remain unknown to man in the phenomena of the universe, 

Dialectic subtlety, inability to throw a vivid light on the great 
problems, recourse to sentiment and to the mysterious endowment 
of the poet and the artist, such are the characteristics of the work 
of M. Sully Prudhomme. But his effort is of altogether too noble 
a character and of too great rareness among the poets of our day 
not to command our appreciation and sympathy. The faults of his 
work have not prevented its having many lofty and eloquent pages. 
M. Sully Prudhomme has a soul of delicate fibre and a mind of 
frankness, and these are qualities which render him in our eyes -a 

man of superior worth. 

* 
* * 

M. JULES PAYOT has taken up similar problems in his book De 
la croyance. I shall not discuss the psychological theory upon which 
he has based his work, and which regards belief as a genus of which 
certitude is merely a species, belief itself being declared identical 



J P. Lemerre, publisher. The other works mentioned are published by F. 
Alcan. 



112 THE MONIST. 

with will. The state of relativism and subjectivism to which we 
are subject leads M. Payot to declare that reality is without our 
reach, and conducts him to an "irremediable intellectual scepti- 
cism." He opines, however, that it will not do to allow scepti- 
cism to enter the domain of ethics, and that it is imperative to cre- 
ate in the consciousness of nations a system of moral beliefs of 
absolute universality. We can become, he says, masters of our own 
beliefs and almost entirely so of the beliefs of others, particularly 
those of children, which he seeks to show in the part of his work 
devoted to the "mechanism" of belief, after having studied its ob- 
ject and nature. 

The project is an excellent one, although its realisation may 
be effected by different methods. Nevertheless, M. Payot appears 
to me to be laboring under an illusion when he speaks of "edu- 
cating universal suffrage." This last institution possibly has not 
the solidity which he attributes to it, and many reasons make for 
the presumption that the progress of social organisation will mod- 
ify it profoundly. Another point also affords me difficulty. M. 
Payot demands a faith "living and always ready for action and 
self-sacrifice," which he opposes to the "theoretical and abstract" 
faith. But is this opposition really so radical ? And how are we 
to interpret it when he adds himself with eloquence and aptness 
that the triumphant idealism of to-day teaches us to comprehend 
"that what constitutes our worth is the fact of our being the tran- 
sitory expression of the essence of things, and that our whole des- 
tiny and more so our duty is to labor to become the most perfect 

expression possible of the laws of this essence?" 

* 
* * 

I regret not being able to discuss the solid thesis of M. E. 
THOUVEREZ, Le realisme metaphysique, from which I shall merely cite 
the author's belief "in the unity of all the principles, in the harmony 
of the world and of the mind, in the regular constancy of all rational 
laws, and in their existence in God who guarantees and directs 
them," and also his affirmation that the "reality of this God is the 
great miracle in the world which the world cannot comprehend." 

I also regret being only able to mention the following works : 



LITERARY CORRESPONDENCE. 113 

Histoire de la philosophic atomistique, by L. MABILLEAU, which is quite 
important ; La Theorie platonicienne des sciences, by ELIE HALEVY ; 
LEcole Saint -Simonienne, by GEORGES WEILL, a very instructive 
book ; and among the less voluminous productions a thesis of M. J. 
LACHELIER, which was widely noticed on its original appearance, 
entitled Du fondement de I* induction, and which is supplemented in 
its present new edition by the article Psychologie et metaphysique, to 
which perhaps we may refer later ; an Expose critique des principes 
du positivisme contemporain, by M. JEAN HALLEUX, in which the 
author seems to be bent especially on demonstrating that human 
knowledge, while having its root in sensuous experience, yet ulti- 
mately goes far beyond the data of experience ; a French trans- 
lation of the Paradoxes of Nordau ; the new study of applied psy- 
chology to which M. F. QUEYRAT gives the title Les caracteres de 
^education nouvelle ; and finally, the extracts from the ethics of the 
Chinese philosophers, which M. J. DE LANESSAN has conveyed to 
us from India and China. 

I had almost forgotten, in a different order of studies, the 
learned and interesting work of M. C. BOUGLE, Les sciences sociales 
en Allemagne, arranged with a view of exhibiting to us, after the 
manner of Lazarus, the plan of a psychology of nations; after Sim- 
mel that of a science of morals ; after Wagner that of a political 
economy ; and after Ihering that of a philosophy of law. 

LUCIEN ARREAT. 
PARIS. 



DIVERSE TOPICS. 

HEGEL'S MONISM AND CHRISTIANITY. 

Looking back upon the history of ideas in the past and noting the ever-chan- 
ging waves of opinion, the different systems of philosophy, the rise and fall of re- 
ligions, we are moved by a strong desire to find out if there is not a single principle 
the truth of which has been demonstrated by its capacity of endurance and by the 
endurance of all that has been its logical outcome. There has been a universal 
belief that such a principle exists holding good in philosophy, religion, and ethics 
which would form the foundation for an enduring and world- wide system. Amongst 
the Greeks this belief first found expression in the teaching of the Ionic philosoph- 
ers, for them this mysterious fundamental principle was a material one Water, 
Air, Fire. The Pythagoreans had Form for this principle; following upon the 
Pythagoreans came the Eleatics, their principle was Pure Being ; the system of the 
Eleatics was the first attempt at Monism, but an unsuccessful one withal, because 
it ignored the world of sense instead of absorbing it. From the very earliest time 
every system of philosophy has been vitiated by a persistently recurring dualism, 
in all there was an endless antagonism between the material and the spiritual, be- 
tween the world of sense and the world of ideas. Could the Eleatics have found 
a ground of union between Pure Being and the sensible world, or Plato between 
his ideas and the world of sense, a monistic philosophy would have been the result. 
About the year 400 B. C. we have Xenophanes the Eleatic propounding the propo- 
sition that "all is one," and his follower Zeno teaching the doctrine "of the one 
sole, simple, and immutable being" ; but they could not retain the monistic idea, 
nor build it up into a definite philosophical system ;. Pure Being and Phenomenal 
Being were unreconciled, and until a reconciliation was brought about their phi- 
losophy could be only a badly concealed dualism. Even the master mind of Soc- 
rates could not discover the necessary connexion between the different branches 
of philosophy, so he was content to devote his whole time to problems of ethics 
and the social life of man. 

The life of the Greek people as a whole owed its temporary joyousness to its 
complete unconsciousness of the inherent difference between the material and the 
spiritual. Their gods, their state, and their national life were all so closely bound 



DIVERSE TOPICS. 115 

together that the people were rendered incapable of looking, as it were, at things 
as outside of, or as separate from, themselves. When their self-consciousness did 
develop sufficiently to enable them to distinguish between things spiritual and ma- 
terial, their light-hearted joyousness disappeared, not having had any better foun- 
dation than a child's delight in things bright and beautiful. In Neo-Platonism 
we see the last attempt of the Greek philosophers to establish monism ; to the 
Neo-Platonists the antagonism between spirit and matter was distinctly apparent, 
and the method by which they sought to unite these two opposites showed a marked 
advance in their intellectual power ; they conceived that the ground of union lay 
behind this dualism. Plotinus was the most celebrated exponent of this school, 
and under his guidance dualism was explained away by mystical references to a 
Pure Being, One and Indivisible, which was at once the beginning and the end of 
all things. Neo-Platonism was not a perfect monism, because Plotinus and his 
followers were at war with the body. The expression of the perfect monistic idea 
with respect to the connexion between body and soul is to be found in a verse from 
R. Browning's "Rabbi Ben Eyra": 

" . . . . Let us not always say 
Spite of this flesh to-day 

I strove, made head, gained ground upon the whole ! 
As the bird wings and sings 
Let us cry, 'All good things 
Are ours, nor soul helps flesh more, now, than flesh helps soul ! ' " 

The hope that by the mortification of the flesh the soul would advance in holi- 
ness, has been from all times one of the extremes into which thoughtful men seek- 
ing peace have fallen. With the dawn of Christianity Greek philosophy languished 
and died, though Christianity did not fight with philosophy but with prejudice in 
the earliest days of its life. This new religion was held to be a special and direct 
revelation from God, yet in its cardinal doctrine we find the very thought that men 
had been for so long striving after, namely, the reconciliation between spirit and 
matter, between man and that God who had always seemed so very far away. It 
was not as if Christ was a leader of men simply by reason of a superiority in His 
manhood alone, but because He claimed to be divine, in the same sense that God 
is divine, and because of this claim, because of the astonishing greatness of this 
claim, Christianity has been especially open to endless attacks and to severe ad- 
verse criticism. If we hold that the intellect of man is his most godlike attribute, 
we will be very ready to believe that by his unaided intellect he would naturally 
attain to certain truths, which, when a direct revelation should come from God, 
would be seen to be the foundations upon which that revelation would be built ; 
this would not come as a strange and foreign idea thrust upon man from without. 
Christianity came, taking hold of and making real that shadowy idea of a unity in 
opposites which had been so dimly apprehended by man. True, it introduced a 
greater amount of mysticism than the generality of men could grasp ; but to coun- 



Il6 THE MONIST. 

terbalance this, there was the manhood of Christ, His very practical life, and His 
care of all things pertaining to the bodies of men. If this wonderful mode of rec- 
onciling the material and the spiritual could only have been appreciated by the 
followers of Christ, religion would never have lost its philosophical side, and the 
unfortunate antagonism between the two would not have occurred : but almost im- 
mediately upon the death of Christ we find His disciples condemning the knowledge 
and wisdom of men. If Christ's religion is to spread and increase amongst all na- 
tions, as prophesied by its founder, its position must be strengthened on all sides. 
It must be the religion of the literary and the learned as well as of the simple and 
ignorant ; it must have its roots in ethics, in philosophy, in art, and in science. 
The best proof that it underlies all things intellectual, physical, and moral is found 
in the fact that its truths can be reached by other than the beaten paths of revela- 
tion. St. Paul, when preaching to the Athenians, desired that they should under- 
stand the close relation existing between men and God ; he could find no better 
way of expressing himself than by quoting to them the words of their own poet 
Cleanthes, "We, too, His offspring are." Bishop Lightfoot writes: "We might 
' ' imagine ourselves listening to a Christian divine when we read in the pages of 
1 ' Seneca that ' God made the world because He is good, ' and that ' as the good 
"never grudges anything good, He therefore made everything the best possible,'" 
and sayings very similar to those we find in the writings of Plato. We are even 
reminded of the words of Christ : "For whosoever shall do the will of my Father 
" which is in Heaven, he is my brother, and sister, and mother," when we read in 
Seneca, "Between good men and the gods there exists a friendship, a friendship 
do I say? Nay, rather a relationship and a resemblance." Scores of passages 
could be cited from the writings of Seneca and others of the sages teaching pre- 
cisely the same ethical doctrine, and having the same mystical meaning as the 
teachings of the disciples of Christ. Heaven and Hell were not first made known 
to man by the revealed word, there is the Olympus and Hades of the Ancients, 
materialistic in conception, it is true, but not more so than the Heaven and Hell of 
Dante. The immortality of the soul is not an essentially Christian doctrine, it was 
held by the Egyptians and the Assyrians at a very early date. Of course, it is not 
contended that all these doctrines and ideas were presented in as pure a form as 
Christ presented them, but the minds of men had been travelling towards them 
naturally, and philosophy had long been conscious of the idea which showed itself 
as the core, the very essence of Christianity. It remained for Hegel, that great 
monistic philosopher, to unite the Christianity of the spiritualists with that of the 
philosophers. 

It may be said that thought at the present day has been so saturated by Chris- 
tian spiritualism that it is impossible for Christian truths to be reached by indepen- 
dent means, but this cannot be maintained with regard to such a philosopher as 
Hegel ; it must have been clear to him that only by emptying his mind of all pre- 
conceived ideas could pure philosophical truth be attained to. If the preconceived 



DIVERSE TOPICS. 117 

ideas were true ones, then the mind would be guided back to them by the light of 
reason. It was not from clinging remnants of revelation that Hegel built up a mo- 
nistic philosophy and a religion which in its last analysis was Christian truth. 
Kant, Jacobi, Fichte, and Schelling were Hegel's immediate predecessors in phi- 
losophy ; their aims were similar to his, but their systems were not so successful : 
they stumbled and fell into the pitfalls of dualism. 

There is one important thought in Fichte's philosophy, however, which is 
worthy of note here; Schwegler explains it in the following words: "It is reason - 
" able to expect on the part of God, as moral regent of the universe, the communi- 
" cation to men of pure moral principles through the medium of the senses, or the 
" revelation of Himself as lawgiver to them by means of a special and appropriate 
"manifestation in the world of sense. An actual revelation would be here, then, a 
"postulate of practical reason." Both Fichte and Schelling occasionally drew very 
near to the monistic goal which Hegel so triumphantly reached. Fichte, when he 
speaks of the necessary union between God and man, and of the important part 
played by Renunciation in the life of man, and Schelling when he teaches that 
"unless there be a dark ground, a nature, a negative principle in God, there can 
"be no talk of a consciousness in God." Again, "Naturalism would think God as 
".ground [immanent], theism as cause of the world [transcendent], the truth is 
"the union of both characters. God is at once cause and ground." But they only 
touched on those thoughts, rose to them, as it were, by intuition ; it remained for 
Hegel to incorporate them into a definite system of philosophy. It was by pro- 
found study and much painful thought that Hegel reached the fundamental axiom 
of his philosophy. He saw clearly that it was on the rock of dualism that all pre- 
vious philosophical systems had been wrecked : Christianity itself was in some 
danger from the same cause. 

All along the line philosophers had fallen either into materialism or idealism, 
and earnest thinkers into dogmatism or atheism. Idealism was no cure for mate- 
rialism, nor blind, unreasoning faith for scepticism. The unity of opposites then 
was the foundation upon which Hegel determined to build up his philosophy ; he 
set himself "to show that the kingdom of nature and spirit are one in spite of all 
antagonism," nay more, "that this antagonism itself is the manifestation of their 
unity." 

Touching the success of this theory in the province of metaphysics, we find 
Hegel's system of logic quite able to make good the position which he took up. 
The old difficulty between a priori and a posteriori knowledge disappears before 
the magic of this logic. There had been an attempt to reconcile the theories of 
Leibnitz and Locke by a compromise, viz., that we receive facts from without but 
that the corresponding ideas are within ; Hegel saw the inadequacy of the compro- 
mise, he was of course aware of the opposition, but behind this opposition he dis- 
covered a unity, a priori and a posteriori knowledge was one and the same thing 
only viewed from different standpoints. The relation of the object thought to the 



Il8 THE MONIST. 

subject thinking is found in the evolution of the mind, for the subject thinking 
receives a posteriori knowledge by virtue of a process of evolution and so transcends 
the opposition between fact and ideas. Hegel asserted that all other metaphysical 
difficulties would be solved by the same monistic principle, as also could the difficul- 
ties in science ; but with regard to these latter he realised that there was a very 
"hard husk" to break through, yet he was quite sure of the principle. He writes: 
"The nature of the universe, hidden and shut up in itself as it is at first, has no 
"power which can permanently resist the courageous efforts of the intelligence, 
"the world is intelligible, as it were, and is in union with our intelligence." Now 
when we come to view this fundamental doctrine of Hegel's, namely, the Union of 
Opposites, from a religious standpoint, for any truth seeking to be universal must 
sooner or later justify itself to religion, we find it in full concord with the purest 
and best religion that the world has ever seen, the religion of Christ. The unity of 
God and man is the kernel of Christian truth, Christ in His person being at once 
God and man, the two opposites, the Divine and Human closely connected, merged 
in Him. If that is the central truth of Christianity, and no Christian can deny it, 
the central truth of Hegel's philosophy is identical with it. He did not arrive at 
this perfect reconciliation by the study of Revelation, he did not seek to force the 
connexion, but steadily followed the glimmering light of truth till it broke into a 
glorious day. Moreover, when Hegel brings his fundamental doctrine into the 
realm of man's ethical and spiritual life, it meets with the same signal success. 
He, with logical reason for his guide, reached the same conditions as do the theo- 
logians who believe themselves led by the spirit of God in an especial and peculiar 
way. In company with the mystics and the divines, Hegel saw a very lucid and 
real meaning in the words which form the centre of Christian truth: " For who- 
soever would save his life shall lose, and whosoever shall lose his life for My sake, 
shall find it." Is this not the essential point, the innermost meaning of his philos- 
ophy ? In man's life there is the positive and the negative, the self and the not- 
self, the two opposites with their ground of union God. If we die to what is par- 
ticular, to what is individual, we shall be born again to what is universal, to what 
is God-like; this, then, is the meaning of "dying to live." It is not the denying of 
one part of ourselves in order to fully realise the other part ; but it is a dying to 
everything that is divided, partial, or contradictory, in order to live in unity and 
in God. Here, then, we have the essential doctrine of Christianity proved by a 
logical and philosophical method. Men are every day becoming more and more 
intellectual, more logical, more reasoning ; man's intellect has discovered for him 
thousands of the wonderful secrets belonging to nature ; to his intellect he owes his 
exalted life, art, literature, and science. Can he throw away this trusty staff on the 
threshold of his religious life and say he has no further need of it ? No, he cannot. 
Christianity must be grasped not only by the emotional, spiritual side of man's 
nature, but by his reason and his intellect. Hegel has shown us how this can be 
done, his philosophy is all-embracing, monistic, true ; he not only can find room 



DIVERSE TOPICS. IIQ 

for the beautiful and the good in art, nature, and conduct, but he has a place for 
the evil and the ugly, behind all things there is the Eternal One. His religion does 
not admit into it the idea of an everlasting fight between God and Satan, nor his 
philosophy, the idea of a war between matter and spirit. If it required the gift of 
inspiration to write the Gospels and Epistles, no less does it require the same gift 
to understand the dark sayings in the Old Testament. Hegel, then, must have re- 
ceived that gift, for those strange words in Isaiah are philosophical truths to him : 
"I am the Lord, and there is none else. I form the light, and create darkness; I 
make peace and create evil ; I, the Lord, do all those things." 

EMILIA DIGBY. 
TICEHURST, SUSSEX. 



INDIA RELIGIOUS, POLITICAL, SOCIAL OF 1895. 



The White City has disappeared. The show of industry and art has vanished 
from sight. The august gathering of the Parliament of Religions lasted for a few 
days and ultimately dissolved. But the practical results of these -movements live 
and are felt by us in whatever direction we turn our attention. The year 1893 gave 
to America congresses on politics, religion, science, and what not, all of them 
within a short space of six months. India is slowly passing through a similar condi- 
tion, and the year 1895 will live in the memory of her people as being full of mem- 
orable events, religious, political, and social. 

The growth of a nation, in order to be healthy, must include all phases of its 
life. The abnormal growth in one direction brings on diseases which are difficult 
to cure. Undue attention paid in India for centuries to the formal side of religion 
brought on subjection, incapacity to cohere as a nation, and many social evils. 
Happily, under the British Government, the study of history and politics has 
brought a large portion of the educated people of India to their senses, and the re- 
sult is that India, at the beginning of 1896, is totally different from the India 
of 1857. 

The great religious event of the last year is the Dharma-Mahotsava the Reli- 
gious Assemblage held at Ajmere, in Rajputana, on the 26th, 27th, and 28th of 
September. Religious gatherings have taken place in India in the past on different 
lines. The Council of Ashoka, held in the third century before Christ, was an as- 
semblage of Buddhist priests only. Neither the Jains, nor the Brahmins, nor other 
sects prominent in those times were invited to attend. The religious gathering of 
Akbar, the enlightened Mohammedan emperor of the sixteenth century was more 
cosmopolitan, indeed, but the number of religions represented was a small one, and, 



120 THE MONIST. 

besides, the emperor's object was to found a new religion, in which, of course, 
he did not succeed. It was reserved for America, for the enlightened people of the 
United States, and for the liberal workers in all religions of the union to inaugu- 
rate a movement in which representatives of all the great ethnic religions of the 
world were invited to meet in brotherly friendship on a common platform to ad- 
mire and to love all that was best in the different faiths and creeds. In the words 
of Prof. Max MUller, " I repeat once more, without fear of contradiction, that the 
"Parliament of Religions at Chicago stands unique, stands unprecedented in the 
"whole history of the world." 

But long before the Columbian Exposition was held and the World's Con- 
gresses Auxiliary was planned, a noble son of India, the great Kayastha reformer, 
now an ascetic, Swami Shivgan Chandji, had conceived the idea of convening a 
gathering of the leading religionists of India and asking them to present before a 
suitable audience the tenets of different faiths in connexion with vital problems of 
life in a popular form. But India, while it is the most tolerant of all tolerant coun- 
tries, and the most conservative of all conservative countries, a new idea takes time 
to meet with the approbation of the people. And so it was with this. It was only 
in the latter part of September, last year, that it was actually carried out. 

The objects of this religious movement were : 

1. To promote the true religious spirit among men of all faiths. 

2. To afford a common platform for the advocates of different religions where 
each can show to the best advantage the vital principles of his faith without in the 
least entering into controversy with or hostility to any other faith. 

3. To place within easy reach of enlightened and educated men trustworthy 
information about every form of religion and leave them to judge of the merits of 
the same. 

The idea was met with responsive co-operation from all parts of the country, 
and soon a reception committee was formed in Ajmere to organise means for re- 
ceiving and accommodating delegates of different faiths, with Pandit Saligram 
Shastri, Sanskrit professor of the Ajmere Government College, as president. The 
programme and other matters were settled in a short time. Provision for the ac- 
commodation of delegates was adequately made. The north and the south, the east 
and the west sent their representatives. 

At half-past eleven on the morning of September 26, representatives of eight- 
een different faiths met in the gardens of the Maharaja of Kishengad, where a spe- 
cial pavilion, with a platform, was erected. To this pavilion they repaired in the 
form of a procession, Pandit Saligram leading. The place was filled with an ap- 
preciative audience. A large gathering of all classes of people ready and willing to 
hear representatives of different faiths expound their respective tenets in all ear- 
nestness proved that the first object of the assemblage that of promoting a reli- 
gious spirit among men of all faiths was fulfilled by the speakers as well as the 
audience. 



DIVERSE TOPICS. 121 

With solemn prayer and invocation, the proceedings of the conference were 
opened by Pandit Saligram, who, in his able address of welcome explaining the ob- 
jects of the gathering, offered the most hearty reception to the delegates, Prelimi- 
nary formalities being over, R. B. Shyam Sundar Lai, Prime minister of the Kish- 
angarh State, was appointed the moderator to preside over the deliberations of the 
congress. His inaugural address was pervaded by a spirit of large-heartedness and 
tolerance. He referred to the fact that religious reform and tolerance were the 
prime factors of a nation's civilisation, and that, leaving out of consideration the 
mere formalities and externals of a religion, the fundamentals, the essential princi- 
ples of all the religions the wide world over were the same ; that peculiar circum- 
stances, local to a particular country, add formalities which are inessential to a 
country with different circumstances ; that gatherings like this were sure to pro- 
mote the religious spirit among all classes of people and would create and continue 
feelings of tolerance and respect for the different religions and faiths. 

For three successive days addresses were delivered by the representatives of 
eighteen different faiths, Mohammedanism and Christianity included. On the last 
two days, in the absence of Mr. Shyam Sundar Lai, Mr. Fateh Chand Khabia, a 
Jain barrister and judge in Ajmere, presided. Hindus and Mohammedans, Jains 
and Sikhs, Arya Samaj and Brahmo Somaj, Vedantins and Vaishnavas, orthodox 
and heterodox , were all heard with the most perfect cordiality and friendliest at- 
tention. The second object of the religious conference that of affording a com- 
mon platform for the advocates of different religions, where each can show to the 
best advantage the vital principles of his faith without in the least entering into 
controversy with or hostility to any other faith was literally and satisfactorily 
fulfilled. 

The questions dealt with in the Conference of Ajmere are, indeed, very impor- 
tant, and any light thrown on them is sure to be of great good to the religious in- 
terests of India aye, of the whole world. The restrictions of time and distance are 
removed in this nineteenth century by the steam engine and the electric telegraph, 
and the questions that now relate to the religious interests of India are as impor- 
tant to her as to the rest of the world. It is not hinted that the discussion or con- 
sideration of those questions now would throw more light than was done when the 
philosophers of the Orient grappled with the most knotty problems of life on the 
banks of the Ganges thousands of years ago, whose profound penetration and deep 
insight made Max Muller say : " If I were asked under what sky the human mind 
"has most fully developed some of its choicest gifts, has most deeply pondered on 
' ' the greatest problems of life, and has found solutions of some of them which well 
' ' deserve the attention even of those who have studied Plato and Kant, I should 
"point to India." But in an age in which the spiritual standard must be raised, 
the consideration of the mighty problems of life becomes an efficient means of lead- 
ing us to the real or imaginary goal that is set before us by all the great religions of 
the world. The question of God, soul, transmigration, sin, bodily health, family 



122 THE MONIST. 

life, social life, revelation, mediator, saviour, incarnation, and salvation, are very 
momentous, and the discourses on these various subjects gave to the audience at 
Ajmere a unique opportunity of comparing the views of one faith with those of 
others. Comparisons made in private are generally tinted with prejudice unless the 
comparer is pre-eminently open to reason, But in a gathering like that in Ajmere 
points are urged on the minds of the audience which are generally ignored when one 
reads books simply to emphasise his preconceived views. Considerations which 
seemed trivial to him formerly are now placed before him in a new light and per- 
haps with a different interpretation. What formerly seemed essential may now ap- 
pear formal and even unnecessary nay, irrelevant. In this way the third object 
of the Mahotsava is fulfilled that of placing within easy reach of enlightened and 
educated men trustworthy information about every form of religion, leaving them 
to judge of the merits of the same. 

The closing addresses of the moderator and delegates were touching indeed. 
They met for a solemn purpose, for a holy purpose, for God's purpose, and it was 
in God's way, in a peaceful and loving way that they departed. They met to hear 
the words of wisdom from one another, and all addressed and were heard in a spirit 
of gentleness and tolerance. This was the universal worship, the tribute of our 
hearts that we made in spontaneous gratitude and devotion to the Infinite. Our 
worship in this sense had no voice, had no particular ceremony, no outward ex- 
pression of the sense, but, it was the prostration of the soul before the supreme in 
adoration of that which is holy and pure, uuchangeable and eternal. We testified 
to the fact that religion, not a religion, is the very life and soul of man, and, when 
rightly understood, is answerable for our destiny here and hereafter. In India this 
fact has been known from earliest times, which has justly given to her the name of 
the Mother of Religions. It has answered the wide world over, I should say, for 
our spiritual regeneration and moralities of life, and has evolved among all the na- 
tions of the earth devoted lives, spotless characters, tireless regenerators about 
whose names the white light of immortality ceaselessly shines. This was the grand 
lesson that we learned at the Dharma-Mahotsava in Ajmere as much as at the Par- 
liament of Religions in Chicago. 

But the people of India, say our opponents, are merely speculative, visionary, 
unpractical. If one tries to reach the ancient literature of India and dive deep into 
it, he shall know what the great sages in the past have said about politics, law, 
war, and polity in general. True it is, and the Hindu has to confess most lament- 
ably that priestly innovation and exclusiveness put India into dire distress and sub- 
jection ; selfishness kept the masses in ignorance and dried up the source of mate- 
rial advancement. This, added to foreign rule, disintegrated the Indian peoples 
and made them politically valueless. Happily, under the British rule, in spite of 
many shortcomings of Anglo-Indian officials, India has taken a step in the right di- 
rection, and her political advancement is as wonderful as the religious. 

VIRCHAND R. GANDHI. 



BOOK REVIEWS. 

LEHRBUCH DER NEUTESTAMENTLICHEN THEOLOGIE. Von Heinrich Julius Holtz- 
mann, Dr. und Ord. Professor der Theologie in Strassburg. Freiburg, i. B. 
and Leipsic : J. C. B. Mohr. 1896. Lieferungen 1-4. Price, M. 1.50 per 
Lieferung. 

New Testament theology has only recently been developed into a science. 
Formerly the dogmatic interest of the various denominations was too strong, and 
the New Testament was used simply for the purpose of procuring evidence of the 
truth of their particular doctrines. The name of Biblical theology as an independent 
discipline was used first in 1708 by Haymann, but it was not till 1787 that Gabler 
spoke of it as an independent science. His colleagues Lorenz and Bauer made a 
distinction between Old and New Testament theology from 1800 on, and they also 
suggested to Politz, Cludius, and Schwartz the idea of a scientific reconstruction of 
original Christianity. The more dogmatic interests disappeared, the more historico- 
critical investigations gained the upper hand. In connexion with this independent 
development of New Testament theology, grew up also the New Testament exegesis 
which from the direct bearing of a historically correct conception of original 
Christianity upon the present doctrines of the church proved to be of all-absorbing 
interest. Here must be mentioned such great historians as Neander with his com- 
pendiary knowledge of all ecclesiastical literature. He was followed by Reuss, 
the first theologian who viewed the New Testament under the aspect of an evolut 
tionary process, claiming that there was first Jewish Christianity, then Paulinism 
and other attempts at reconciling Hellenism and Judaism, and lastly the theology 
of St. John. Upon this foundation the school of Tubingen represented by Schweg- 
ler and Baur took its stand. The latter places the doctrine of Jesus and of the 
Apostles at the beginning, and contrasts in the first period of the development of 
the church the doctrines of Paul and Saint John of the Revelation, which are fol- 
lowed by conciliatory attempts represented in Mark, Luke, and the Paul's Epistles 
to the Hebrews, Ephesians, Colossians and others. The latter are a transition to 
the formation of the dogmas of the Catholic Church, best represented in the pas- 
toral letters and in St. John. Hilgenfeld sides with Baur, while a reaction against 
the Tubingen School is represented in the names of Ewald and Ritschl. In more 



124 1HE 

modern days we have the works of Weizsacker, Hausrath, Oosterzee, Kostlin, 
Weiss, Beyschlag, and especially Pfleiderer. 

Holtzmann is one of the most prominent investigators and interpreters of the 
New Testament, and there is no one better informed in this line of work than he is. 
His Lehrbuch and his Handcommentar to the New Testament are the best that can 
be had, and are recognised as such. The author is the man to give us also a Lehr- 
buch of New Testament theology. 

Professor Holtzmann's present work, which has now reached four instalments 
and will be perfected in twelve, is, like all his other books, a concise and impartial 
summary of the present state of investigation. He condenses the work of his prede- 
cessors and presents rather the general advance made by them as a whole than an 
investigation of his own. 

The four instalments before us contain two parts : first, Jesus and the Evan- 
gelists ; and secondly, Paul and the Post- Apostolic literature. Neither is complete 
in the copy before us, the former breaking off abruptly at page 144, the second at 
page 240. 

After a review of the literature of New Testament theology and a sketch of its 
development as an independent discipline, Holtzmann characterises the period of 
Nomism in the history of the later Judaism. He describes, according to the vari- 
ous views advanced, the contrast between Phariseeism and Sadduceeism, the modes 
of Jewish tradition, the method of interpreting the law, the development of the 
Apocalyptic literature, which is a product of the disappointments and sufferings of 
the Jews who fulfilled the law punctiliously while God did not seem to make good 
his promises. But the end was not yet ; God can be relied upon. Therefore they 
hoped for a Messiah who would take a terrible revenge on the heathens, restore 
Israel to its political independence, or even make it the ruler of all nations. Thus 
the Messianic idea assumed definite shape and led to various conceptions of the 
nature of the Saviour who, however, was always regarded as a political restorer of 
Israel. Some thought that he would be a scion of David's house, while others, 
especially the priestly aristocracy, expected him of the tribe of Levi. The former 
gained the upper hand, but such were the views common among the people, that a 
sister-in-law of Herod the Great could think of finding the Messiah either in her 
husband or in one of her sons. Moral qualities of the Messiah and superhuman 
features were not expected of him. The people pictured him in their minds rather 
like Judas-Maccabee than like any one of the Prophets. 

Since Alexander the Great the Jews had spread among the nations of the Ro- 
man Empire without surrendering their religion and Jewish customs. They became 
mediators of the monotheistic idea and helped to prepare the world for the accep- 
tance of Christianity. The translation of the Old Testament into Greek, commonly 
called the Septuagint, was a condition of the pleroma, the fulfilment of the times. 
Without the Greek Bible we might have had the provincial literature of an Aramaic 
religion, but no New Testament theology. All Greek sages became greatly inter- 



BOOK REVIEWS. 



I2 5 



ested in Judaism on account of its stern monotheism, and many joined the Jewish 
faith, without, however, accepting either circumcision or the Mosaic law. They 
remained mere guests in the synagogues of Israel and a few only became proselytes. 

While thus the Greeks were prepared for receiving a religious revelation that 
would come from the Jews, the Jews of the diaspora themselves became acquainted 
with Greek philosophy. And they were astonished at the purity and precision of 
Aristotle and the grandeur of Plato. The doctrine of the immortality of the soul 
so plainly set forth in the Phaedo made a deep impression on them, and the result 
was a peculiar literature in which Greek and Jewish thought were blended, leading 
on the one hand to such Apocrypha as the Book of Wisdom and on the other hand 
to the philosophical conceptions of Philo, who developed the idea of the divine 
Logos. 

By the side of the conservative Pharisees and the Hellenising Sadducees, a 
sect arose, apparently of foreign growth, the members of which called themselves 
Essenes. Their ascetic tendencies are un-Jewish ; their reverence for the light and 
the sun point to Parseeism ; their condemnation of the oath and of slavery reminds 
one of Neo-Pythagorism, and yet they are older than the Neo-Pythagorean school, 
for we have evidences of their existence in the second century before Christ. Thus 
they may be regarded as an independent but parallel development of the tendencies 
which prevailed in the whole Roman Empire and produced such philosophies as 
Neo Pythagorism and Platonism. The underlying theory in both Alexandrianism 
and Essenism appears to be an endeavor to get rid of all that is sensual and to come 
into close contact with God who is conceived as pure spirit. 

The main problem of the New Testament theology is apparently the personality 
of Jesus himself. Holtzmann does npt believe that the character of Jesus can be 
explained as a myth. The mysterious power which Jesus manifests is so original, so 
peculiar, so individual that it could not be the product of speculative thought. We 
are confronted here with a reality, and everything we read in the synoptic Gospels 
about Jesus tends to corroborate the genuineness of the picture. The religion of Jesus 
is not the product of school doctrines. He who would try to explain his appearance 
as a combination of the conflicting theologies of his time will miss the most char- 
acteristic feature of his life. Jesus apparently nourished his soul at a well of living 
waters and did not draw his inspirations from books. Thus nature is mirrored 
in crystal-clear reflexion in his speeches. His imagination does not suffer from 
Oriental exaggeration. His mind is not distorted by Rabbinical wit or subtleties, 
and there can be no question about it that he is the child of Galilee, of the country 
which is described as a continuous garden where palms and figs and flowers grow. 
If he had grown up in a city like Jerusalem he would not have introduced similes 
and invented parables of provincial life as he did. His native country is the back- 
ground of all his speeches and only a Galileean could expect to find figs at Easter- 
time in Jerusalem. There is nothing gloomy in his views of nature. He speaks of 
God's sun and its radiance, of the birds under the sky, and the flowers in the fields, 



126 THE MON1ST. 

of the rain that pours down on the just and the unjust. Any one who uses such 
language is in no danger of the theologian stifling the man. 

The life of nature apparently made a deep impression upon Jesus, but he con- 
centrated his attention even more upon the life of man ; and here again we find the 
social conditions of Galilee, not the city-life of Jerusalem, nor views which might 
be uttered in the schoolroom. Jesus was familiar with the joys and sufferings of 
the country and the people, and thus he was enabled to voice the deepest religious 
sentiments. God was to him like the house-father, and there are many pictures of 
family-life in his parables. He speaks of the children sitting round the table with 
their parents, the dogs waiting for the crumbs that are thrown down to them, and 
when it is dark, of the light that is put on a candlestick, which gives light to all 
that are in the house. Neighbors and friends are mentioned who are invited on 
festive occasions (Luke xv., 69). The children sleep in the chamber together with 
their father (Luke xi., 7); and he does not tire of speaking of children as being 
nearest and dearest to his heart. 

By the side of these friendly pictures of family life Jesus also mentions the op- 
pressive social conditions of the laborers, servants, or slaves, and of the hired work- 
man in the vineyards. He frequently mentions the good man of the house who is 
the head slave, the overseer of the other servants, either proving himself to be re- 
liable or being a tyrant oppressing his companions. The slave girls are alluded to 
who work the hand-mill and who must sleep two in a bed. All of them are subject 
to the cruel laws of the times and depend upon the will of their master. When 
they have tired themselves in the fields they are still kept busy in the house (Luke 
xvii., 7-9). They serve at table, and it is a distinction if they are entrusted by their 
master with money affairs. Jesus repeatedly introduces the master of the house in 
his attitude of going over their accounts and computing the returns of the entrusted 
money. When the master travels the servants wait for his return, and remain awake 
during the night. 

But the hardships of slavery which are introduced without further reflexion in 
the sermons of Jesus, are not the worst features of the social conditions of those 
days. The greatest misery is represented in the cripples and the beggars on the 
streets, the tramps on the highroads, the thieves in the cities, the robbers in the 
woods, the malefactors who carry their own cross, imprisoned debtors, etc. We 
learn of the transactions of usury, bills of indebtedness, the severity of creditors, 
the contentions between parties on the way to the judge, punishments by the court, 
etc., etc. 

Yet while Jesus describes scenes from life such as he must have witnessed in 
his childhood and early youth, he was at the same time not unfamiliar with the 
Scriptures. His speeches show a special familiarity with Deutero-Isaiah and also 
several of the Apocryphal and Apocalyptic writings. In Luke xi., 49, he quotes 
from a Book of Wisdom which is no longer extant, and there are passages in Mat- 
thew and Luke which contain echoes of Jesus Sirach. 



BOOK REVIEWS. 127 

Jesus must have learned reading and writing, for we are informed that he 
read chapters from the Prophets in the synagogue and addressed the Pharisees re- 
peatedly with the words : " Have you not read ?" He quotes from the history of 
his people and is full of Biblical reminiscences. It is true that he makes mistakes 
in his exegesis, but he proves himself a genuine prophet by the freedom with which 
he introduces his interpretations. The Scriptures are to him only incidental and 
accessory corroborations of the religious experiences which he had had himself, 
and thus he shows an assurance and superiority, which, although he never places 
himself above the Scriptures, makes it possible that he speaks with authority. The 
Scriptures are to him like a glass in which he sees his own face and behind it the 
face of God. 

The influence of Essenism on Jesus has been a matter of dispute. His con- 
demnation of the oath, his celibacy, and the communism involved in the idea of 
the surrender of property, the redundancy of temple service and bloody sacrifices 
indicate some connexion between Jesus and Essenism ; but Holtzmann is inclined 
to regard these coincidences as being due to the moral ideals of the times, for Jesus 
was very different from the Essenes, as he did not place his light under a bushel 
as they did in their retirement. They represented a separatistic sect while he 
lived in the world and communicated with all the people, scribes and Pharisees, 
publicans and sinners. 

The Pharisees were apparently that party with whom Jesus in the beginning 
of his career was most closely connected. He appears as a guest in the synagogues. 
He knows their methods of teaching, he uses their modes of argument and proves 
his case on the authority of Scriptures, in exactly the same style which they were 
wont to use. He discusses problems such as that proposed to Hillel, Which is the 
first and the greatest commandment? (Mark xii., 28; Matth. xxii., 36.) He in- 
troduces the term " righteousness " as frequently as did the Pharisees, only that he 
deepened the meaning of the word : It is still the dominant theme in the Sermon 
on the Mount. Where he combats the Pharisees, he does so with their own weap- 
ons. He discusses the worth of almsgiving and the reward in heaven. He agrees 
with the Pharisees on the doctrine of resurrection against the Sadducees, and it is 
not mere chance that Paul the great apostle who completed the mission of Jesus- 
came also from the school of the Pharisees. 

But the main difference between Jesus and the Pharisees is his more natural 
and more human conception of the righteousness of the law. In his explanation of 
the law, his own genius asserts itself. Imbued with the experiences of real life he 
applies his religious views to the conditions that surround him, and is free from all 
scholasticism and scholarly prejudices. He is not a professional scribe but a self- 
taught man who bears the prototype of his religious ideals in himself, and this 
gives him a self-reliance which cannot be acquired by book-learning. His belief 
in God is not born in the storms of despair, but it appears like sunshine upon the 
quiet sea of Galilee. 



128 THE MONIST. 

Considering the character of Jesus, such as is here described, it is natural that 
he possesses no special method of teaching. He does not use the abstract defini- 
tions of the schools. He shows no doctrinary reflexion, nor any dogmatic system. 
He is a man of the people and not, as St. Paul and St. John, a theologian. He 
never cares to solve problems of science. He even neglects the order and consis- 
tency of his thoughts. He is always bent on solving practical questions which he 
does by his faith in a world of divine truth. He never aspires for lucidity, but 
always for a popularly impressive expression of his thoughts which are communi- 
cated as directly as possible. We must understand every single word from the mo- 
tives which prompt it, and in order to judge of his personality we ought first to be 
able to translate his speeches back into Aramaic, for they have suffered greatly by 
being transcribed into a Greek garment. This is a work which has only recently 
been begun by Arnold Meyer. 

The originality of Jesus appears mainly in his application of religion to prac- 
tical life. As the roots of his view of nature and of man are taken directly from 
life, so he applies them directly to the needs which he sees about them. He is 
more a child of nature than the theologians of later centuries would have it. 

While Jesus has a deep reverence for the sacred traditions of his nation, and 
Avhile he is willing to fulfil the law, he sees no need of obeying all the various in- 
junctions which the Pharisees and scribes prescribe. The law as it was understood 
in Jesus' time was a heavy burden upon the people. It presupposed a study, for 
who could know all the rules about prayer, about washings, about the tithes, sacri- 
fices, and ceremonials ? The law of the Jews had become a religion for the rich. 
It was utterly impracticable for poor people. The parents of Jesus themselves were 
unable to comply with all the demands of the law, for we know that only once they 
travelled to Jerusalem, a journey which, according to the law, had to be made three 
times a year by a good Jew. We have the express statement that Jesus himself 
did not observe the fasts and that he did not hesitate to break the Sabbath. The 
mass of the people lived in utter ignorance of the details of the law, and consider- 
ing the burden of the law, we can now appreciate that Jesus praises the unlearned 
and uneducated by saying "Blessed are the poor in spirit." He comes with a 
Gospel for the poor. He addresses not the pious Jews only, but the sinners, those 
who by the pressure of circumstances no longer continued to observe the law and 
formed a class by themselves upon whom the orthodox Pharisee looked down with 
contempt. The parents of Jesus themselves probably sat down to dinner without 
washing their hands according to the Levitic injunctions, and it was a matter of 
course to him that they did not thereby defile themselves. It must sometimes have 
been difficult for a carpenter when at work to obey the circumstantial commands 
of eating his meal in the orthodox fashion. Jesus knew that the law could mean 
purity of heart and not of hands, and he understood that not the food that enters 
the mouth but the words that come out of the mouth can defile the character of a 
man. 



BOOK REVIEWS I2Q 

It is the directness of his experiences which conditions his superiority and the 
breadth of his mind shown in his communion with the pious Jews as well as with the 
publicans and sinners ; and this is not the product of study, and of consideration, 
but natural instinct, which becomes more and more a conscious opposition to the 
narrowness of Phariseeism. Thus the gist of his doctrine is contained in the words, 
'The poor have the Gospel preached to them," and St. Luke says : "The Son of 
Man is come to seek and to save that which was lost." But his salvation does not 
consist in urging the severity of Phariseeism, but in preaching the Kingdom of 
Heaven, which since those who are invited do not come, will be inherited by the 
crippled, the lame, and the beggars from the street. 

So much for the first part, and the most important problem of New Testament 
theology. We hope to recur to Professor Holtzmann's work as soon as the re- 
mainder is published. P. C. 

DlE PROPHETISCHE OPFENBARUNG NACH WfiSEN, INHALT UNO GRENZEN. UntCf 

dem Gesichtspunkte der alttestamentlichen Weissagung geschichtlich und 
psychologisch untersucht von Dr. Paul Schwarlzkopff, Professor in Wer- 
nigerode. Giessen : J. Ricker'sche Buchhandlung. 1896. Pages, 169. 
A new theology is being built up, not in the quarters of the old rationalism, 
which in Germany are gathered in the Protestantenverein, but in those circles 
where the orthodox traditions prevail; and among modern theologians Paul 
Schwartzkopff has offered to the world in these latter days most valuable contribu- 
tions which are distinguished by philosophical method and critical ability. Men 
like Kuenen, Wellhausen, Cornill, Harnack, Holtzmann are historical scholars of 
first degree ; Schwartzkopff's specialty lies in another field ; he is sufficiently versed 
in the works of these great pathfinders to be perfectly at home in Biblical theology, 
but he concentrates his investigations upon the fundamental questions which are to 
be decided as a matter of principle rather than as a historical fact. For this pur- 
pose he wrote his treatise on the fallibility of Jesus. 1 Here the historical prob- 
lems are brought under a philosophical aspect, in which, in the spirit of the present 
age, psychological considerations are most prominent. The present treatise on 
" Prophetic Revelation " is quite similar in kind and forms an important part of 
the whole system, promising to be very acceptable to theologians as the best solu- 
tion of the various difficulties into which the traditional interpretation of religion, 
through the rapid progress of all the sciences, has been drifting. 

Schwartzkopff approaches the problems of exegesis, text-criticism, and inter- 
pretation not by expounding the sundry individual passages, but by selecting salient 
instances and developing the characteristic features of all of them. In the book be- 
fore us, he undertakes to determine the nature of the prophetic revelation in both 

1 Konnte Jesus irren ? Unter dem geschichtlichen, dogmatischen und psychologischen Ge- 
sichtspunkte principiell beantwortet. Reviewed in The Monfst, Vol. VI., No. 3. 



130 THE MONIST. 

its form and its substance ; he seeks to show how the purity of the substance of 
the revelation (der Inhalt) is dependent upon its form, and that thus in its form 
it must find its natural limits. The prophet has a mission that appears in his ser- 
mons, which are partly threats of punishment, proclaiming God's wrath on account 
of the sins of the people, and partly promises of restoration on the condition of 
penitence and obedience. In prophecy the national conscience finds its utter- 
ance, and thus the prophet is a politician. To be sure, he does not make himself 
the head of a faction, nor does he organise a party for political ends, but he voices 
the people's indignation at social wrongs or political errors committed by those in 
power. He is the guardian of the souls, the Seelsorger and pastor of the people 
and there is in the prophet a subjective assurance that what is of God will stand, 
but what is ungodly will fall. This in fact is the burden of all prophecy, which 
accordingly is defined as "the expression of the moral-religious sense applied to 
the destiny of God's people and the realisation of God's kingdom on earth " (p. 167). 
But in recognising the divinity of the substance of prophecy we should not over- 
look that it is poured into vessels of clay ; the form of prophecy is individually and 
historically conditioned, and every prophet in portraying the consequences of God's 
wrath and the promises of his mercy, colors his picture with the paints that he 
finds in the paint-pots of his home (p. 101). Thus the human element is introduced 
as a matter of necessity, and with it come error and fallibility. In order to be a 
prophet in whom the perfection of truth is reached, the prophet must have attained 
to the perfection of the God-man, which can be said of none of them. Their vision 
is more or less dimmed; they see the externality of things and have not as yet un- 
derstood that the external forms of worship and of the kingdom of Israel are tran- 
sient and indifferent in comparison with the foundation of a kingdom of God on 
earth that would be of a spiritual nature without any theocratical forms. Thus the 
prophets are subject to error in proportion to their inclination to see the exter- 
nal and to mistake the external for the spiritual. The letter of prophecy is not 
the thing to be minded, but the burden and spirit. There is a nucleus of truth, 
however, even where error prevails, and this nucleus of truth (Wahrheitskern, p. 
102) consists in the proclamation of the message of the coming of the kingdom. 

The most orthodox theologians freely concede the errors of prophecy. Schultz 
(in his Alttestamentliche Tkeologie, fourth edition, 1889, page 267) says : 

"Tyre was not, as Isaiah prophesied, conquered by the Assyrians in order to 
' ' rise after seven years to its former prestige and to donate the fruits of its rich com- 
"merce to Zion (Isaiah, xxiii, i, 15 et seq.; Ezekiel, xxvi, 1-28 x; see also Smend, 
"p. 174). Babel did not fall under the assault of Koresh, and was not doomed to 
"destruction as was prophesied by the prophets of Israel (B. J. xiii, 14 ; xxi, 40-66). 
"Damascus is still standing even to-day and has not been taken off the earth. The 
"Egyptians were neither conducted to Assur nor to Babel into exile (Isaiah, xvii, 
"i; ix ; Jer., xlvi ; Ezekiel, xxix). Egypt and Assur were not united together 
"with Judah into a triple kingdom of God (Isaiah, xix, 23 et seq.). Jerusalem was 



BOOK REVIEWS. I 31 

"not restored on the return from the exile, as the prophets had hoped (B. J., xxxv, 
"xlii, xlviii, liv, Ix, Ixii). A victory of the tribe of Judah over Phoenicia never 
"came true (Joel, iv, 4). Thus almost every prophecy exhibits to him who ex- 
"amines it closely a vista into the future which remains unfulfilled. And yet all 
"that these men of God hoped was in connexion with times which are now passed 
"andean never return, and thus it can never be fulfilled in the future. What 
"Isaiah of the exile prophesied can never be fulfilled, for all the conditions in 
' ' which he expects his people to develop are gone once and forever, and the same 
1 ' is true of all the prophetic descriptions of the blessed times to come. ... If all 
"the particular traits of his prophecies are left out or interpreted in another sense, 
"one should be honest enough no longer to speak of a fulfilment of the prophecies 
"in the proper sense of the term." 

The same author who thus rejects the idea of a literal fulfilment of Old Testa- 
ment prophecy adds : "But Jesus has given another and a higher fulfilment of the 
"Messiah ideal in which a national Israel has no longer a place. In this sense he 
"had fulfilled the prophecies in the deepest meaning of the word, but at the same 
"time he has destroyed them in their temporal form and interpretation." (See also 
Smend, p. 171). 

In the same way Ewald emphasises the importance, not of the form, but of 
the religious substance of the prophecy, and in this sense Franz Delitzsch, too, 
recognised the limits of prophecy. He says in his Kommentar, p. 256 : 

1 ' The submission of the Ethiopian warrior was the beginning of what Isaiah 
"had prophesied, but the land of the Nile was subjected under Asarhaddon and 
"Asurbanipal, his son, the conqueror of Thebes (Nahum, iii, 8-10). Judah's ex- 
pectation of Egypt became fatal to Judah as Isaiah had prophesied, but the ca- 
"tastrophy of Jerusalem was not the end of Assur ; and the expeditions of Sargon 
"and Sanharib were not as yet the end of Egypt. The triumphs of Jahveh and of 
"prophecy concerning Assur did not lead to the conversion of Egypt. In all this 
"the fulfilment of prophecy leaves an element of the human, drawing the distant 
1 ' that is hoped for into the nearer future. All fulfilment is divine, prophecy, how- 
"ever, is both divine and human." 

These theologians and others of equal prominence concede the presence of 
error in prophecy, and yet endeavor to remove the objection of fallibility from 
genuine prophets. It is on this ground that Smend would not recognise Nahum 
and Habakkuk as genuine prophets, because their prophecies remained unfulfilled. 
Kuenen in the first part of his work De Profeeten en de Profesie (Chap. 5, 6 and 7, 
pp. 114-320) devotes several chapters to an investigation of prophetic errors, and 
shows extraordinary depth and precision in his terms; and Schwartzkopff finds 
himself in sympathy with him on the basis of an independent investigation of the 
same field. 

In agreement with the healthy atmosphere of Schwartzkopff s thoughts we find 
the theory that regards prophecy as a second sight rejected. Schwartzkopff says 



132 THE MONIST. 

(p. 164) that there are only an evanescent number of passages both in the Old and 
the New Testament which seem to allow an interpretation of prophecy as second 
sight. But in all these exceptions the reliability of the tradition is subject to justi- 
fiable doubts. Visions, it is true, appear not only in the beginnings of prophecy, 
but exceptionally, though more seldom, in its higher development. Nevertheless, 
it is not the typical form of prophecy, and where visions are introduced, it is not the 
form of the second sight which makes them prophetic, but the religious purport of 
the vision. 

The main purpose of the present pamphlet, which shows its close connexion 
with other investigations of the same author, points beyond the prophets of Israel. 
That purpose is to find a clue to the fundamental problem of Christianity, which 
consists in a definite and truly philosophical comprehension of the significance of 
him who is the ideal prophet Jesus of Nazareth. p. c. 

DER KAMPF UM EINEN GEISTIGEN LEBENSINHALT. NEUE GRUNDLEGUNG EINER 
WELTANSCHAUUNG. Von Rudolf Eucken, Prof essor in Jena. Leipsic : Veit 
& Co. 1896. Pages, 400. Price, M. 7,50. 

The aspiration of The Monist is the establishment of a new world-conception 
and the gathering of all the forces in the philosophical and scientific world that 
tend in this direction. We have repeatedly called attention to the importance and 
indispensability of a definite world-conception, insisting that on the character of 
our world-conception depends the character of our religion, our ethics, and of our 
main conduct in life. The detail-work of the sciences is not the aim and end 
of the scientific tendencies of the present age. The specialisation of the sciences 
must lead back to a unification that bears within it a higher and deeper conception 
of the purpose of life. Professor Eucken has similar aims, and several passages 
of his book are closely allied to the spirit of editorials that appeared some time ago 
in The Monist, especially "The Clergy's Duty of Allegiance to Dogma and the 
Struggle Between World-Conceptions " (Vol. II., pp. 278 et seq.), "The Message 
of Monism to the World" (Vol. IV., No. 4), and others. 

Professor Eucken fails to find in the present offerings of philosophical labor 
a definite spiritual content of life. He sorely feels the need of the independence, 
the character, and the omnipotence of spiritual life, and he proposes to purify and 
deepen the life-process so as to make room for greater experiences. In this sense 
he has written all his previous works, and the present book is devoted to the same 
task. He is conscious of preaching to a minority, for the tendencies of the present 
age are predominantly under the influence either of naturalism or of exclusive spe- 
cialisation. By naturalism he understands a philosophy which endeavors to resolve 
all events into physical processes, while to the specialist a consistent world-concep- 
tion appears an empty Utopia. Thus naturalism would be identical with material- 
ism or mechanicalism, and specialism with agnosticism. 

Professor Eucken endeavors to avoid the Scylla of physicalism and the Charyb- 



BOOK REVIEWS. 133 

dis of agnosticism, and to get beyond the negations with which they embarrass 
philosophical aspirations. He proposes to emphasise again the importance of the 
whole, of that which is a matter of principle, and in this sense he re-establishes the 
notion of an independent spiritual world. 

In the first chapter he shows that man grows beyond and above nature. Na- 
ture, that is to say, the physical play of forces, is conquered by man the more he 
understands it, and thus the supernatural rises into existence. The natural is a life 
of "pure sensation and affection," but beyond the natural lies the higher empire 
of the spiritual, and the spiritual is not a mere appendix to the physical. It is a 
new creation, constituting a movement that comes from the whole and tends towards 
the whole. 

The naturalist would exorcise from nature all psychical magnitudes, and would 
reduce reality to a soulless mass of motions. He looks upon the world as a com- 
plex of small and smallest elements, and regarding all happenings as a purely me- 
chanical interaction of these elements with the exclusion of all internality, he de- 
nies all valuations ( Werthschatzungeri) and every purpose as mere phantoms. But 
the spiritual world is a new creation above the physical world, the wealth of which 
is unlimitable. 

We observe three periods in the evolution of man. First, the origin of an in- 
dependent spirituality, which, however, finds itself embarrassed by its surround- 
ings, by sensuality, and by the grossness of the lower spheres of the physical. This 
manifests itself as a resistance against the development of the spiritual, which leads 
secondly, to a transfiguration of its surroundings and to the foundation of a new 
reality. The third period is characterised. by the victory of spirituality over the 
complications to b.e overcome. 

Man's soul-life is in one respect a mere continuation of the natural process, 
but in another respect it represents a new beginning. It cannot, however, cut it- 
self loose from its surroundings, but must utilise the data of external nature. It 
must not attempt to fly from the objective world, but must subdue it and appropri- 
ate it. The spiritual world is not a perfected existence. It is not a world beyond, 
as it was formerly conceived, but it is a going beyond the physical. It is its trans- 
figuration and consecration, yet it is not the mere product of a peculiar condition. 
It is not the private affair of mankind, but it is the revelation of the inner move- 
ment of the All. It opens before our mental vision the depths of the significance 
of existence. It is an evidence and manifestation of the spiritual nature of being, 
and leads to an emancipation of the spirit of man. It is a deliverance from the 
merely human or the puny human, and points towards the solution of the deepest 
mystery of the world. 

A similar solution of the problem has been proposed by Plato in his doctrine 
of ideas. There we learn that there is a spiritual world which is not rooted in the 
human alone, but which has an absolute existence. The true, the good, and the 
beautiful are ideals that have existence in themselves. Spirit is the measure of all 



134 THE MONIST. 

things, and not man. The Sophistic philosophy is a huge error, and this same 
Sophistic philosophy is very powerful to-day. It endeavors to make man the meas- 
ure of all things, and this view remains purely Sophistical, even though the single 
individual may be replaced by society, or a great number of individuals by the 
average man, or the Zeitgeist. All these theories of the day represent the purely 
human and overlook the importance of the deeper reality from which the human 
has developed. To be sure, the peculiar form of Platonism has become unten- 
able in the course of further experiences and considerations, but the substance of 
it remains, and may be called the existence of an independent world of spirit. 

The spiritual world forms a contrast to the physical or material world from 
which it arises. But if the former tries to ignore the latter, it cannot escape pun- 
ishment. The spiritual life is dependent upon the surroundings of reality and can- 
not dispense with it. It must struggle with it and conquer it, and through its con- 
quest rise to greater heights. If the surrounding reality be neglected, our experi- 
ence in the history of philosophy from Plotinus to Hegel proves that the spiritual 
life grows abstract and dry. It degenerates into soulless formalities unless it be 
separated by experience. The contrast that obtains must not be denied but must 
be conquered, not by a compromise but by the appropriation of the material 
through the spiritual. 

The contrast between the spiritual and the real shows itself in all departments 
of life, and appears in science as the eternally renewed struggle between empiri- 
cism and rationalism, which are disparate life-processes that exclude one another 
and not merely two sides to one and the same reality. The problems offered by 
the contrast in which the spiritual finds itself with the sensual and material, find 
their solution in various propositions. Some try to deny the existence of evil. Such 
is the philosophy of optimism as represented by Leibnitz. He thinks of denying 
the reality of evil by inducing man to change his position and view his life from 
the standpoint of the All. Philosophy, he claims, will recognise the harmony of 
the world as soon as "the eye is placed in the sun." This is the way in which 
optimism endeavors to free the world from irrationality. Suffering is regarded as 
a means of education, and even the moral evil or guilt is justified in the scheme of 
salvation. But we cannot regard evil as a mere accidental phenomenon, and the 
more the dialectic of optimism is accepted the more artificial appears its position. 

Another solution is proposed by those who fly from the world of misery into 
the realm of the beautiful. Finding it impossible to deny the existence of evil, 
they seek a harmonious world in the empire of art, but even this is futile for art 
cannot avoid the abysses of misery, doubt, and sufferings, for wherever it does so, 
it becomes shallow and trivial. 

A third solution is offered by naturalism which regards an independent world 
of spirit as an illusion. But naturalism, too, is untenable, because it chokes all joy 
of work, and is a resignation and suppression of all spiritual life. It leads to an- 
other solution which is called pessimism. 



BOOK REVIEWS. 135 

Pessimism is the resignation of all happiness and leads through a contempla- 
tion of the vanity of the world to a contempt for the world, which sometimes ap- 
pears as a conquest of the world. Pessimism has many advantages over optimism, 
but its practical consequences are impossible. Whenever pessimism attempts 
to end in absolute negativism, it will quickly come into contradiction with the 
real nature of ourselves. By adhering to the principle of negation it surren- 
ders reason, the norm of the spiritual, and the impossibility of such resignation 
becomes soon enough apparent. A man may resign for himself, but he cannot 
resign for the totality of mankind and for the whole of the spiritual world. He 
can resign his subjective happiness. He cannot give up the ideality of his 
nature. The endeavor to live and to work is not merely physical ; it is also meta- 
physical. We have not only to maintain our individual, and, as it were, "point- 
like " existence, but also the spiritual process which ensouls us, for we are co- 
workers in the design of a spiritual world, and we wage a battle for our soul. 
The whole life of man, from this standpoint, appears as a duty, which is not a cre- 
ation of our own arbitrary will, but depends upon the inner necessity of our spir- 
itual existence and upon our relations to the invisible order of all things. Misery 
and suffering are indispensable in the struggle for a spiritual existence, the aim of 
which does not lead to nothing, but to the construction of a new world. The old 
ego may be destroyed, but life is resurrected in a new and spiritual self. The lower 
impulses of life may be rooted out, but the higher aspirations will persist, and their 
reality becomes the more apparent. The deepest tendency of life is not identical 
with the yearning for selfish pleasure, and the energetic struggle for life is possible 
in full contrast to the lower hunger for life, because man in such cases does not 
stand up for his own individual cause alone. Thus, the reality of evil does not dis- 
appear, but loses in its predominance and supremacy in life. 

Thus, it is not mere existence which we aspire for, but we must give to exist- 
ence a content which is the creation of a spiritual world with spiritual significance. 
Upon this basis a new world-conception must be created which will renew the old 
ideals that are found in religion, which is not a mere sentiment but endeavors to 
build up the life of the spirit. Eucken would not confine himself to the forms of 
our traditional religion, but declares that philosophy should take a view of the 
whole from a more general standpoint. Yet he feels himself in agreement with the 
spirit of religion, which is expressed in its ethical aspirations. P. c. 

GRUNDZOGE DER WISSENSCHAFTLICHEN UNO TECHNISCHEN ETHIK. VON Dr. Fred 

Bon. Leipsic : Wilhelm Engelmann. 1896. Pages, 166. Price, 4 Marks. 

Dr. Fred Bon's position is perhaps most clearly characterised on pp. 14-15 of 

his pamphlet where he declares that every individual of a species must on the one 

hand compete with all other individuals of the same species who have the same 

wants and need the same means for the satisfaction of their wants, and on the other 

hand struggle against individuals of other species, who are either utilised for his 



136 THE MOM I ST. 

benefit or destroyed to provide him with food. The former condition produces 
a tendency to hostility or isolation, the other a tendency to mutual approach and 
combination. Thus all life is dominated by "isolation and conclusion," and our 
author finds "the ethical maxim in conclusion" as against "isolation which is the 
maxim of egotism." Thus he formulates the definition of ethics, which is the main 
result of his considerations in the preface (p. 4), as "a superordination of the con- 
clutory interests." The term "conclutory" is original with the author and cannot 
(from a philological standpoint) be regarded as a happy formation. Since the author 
intends to elevate ethics, which so far has been a mere science, to an art that should 
be "the most powerful branch of social politics" (p. n), he proposes to lay down 
the outlines also of the "technic ethics," which is "the noble task of the ethics of 
the future." 

The contents of the booklet are subsumed under the headings of " the law of 
moral evolution " and "the raising of mankind" (Mcnschheitszucht}, the latter con- 
taining some indifferent discussions of sexual love and various other moral consider- 
ations regarding the place of the individual and its individuality in society, moral 
commandments and an appeal to voluntary complaisance, the influence of moral 
ideals, etc. On the last page of the book we are told that ethical conflicts will be 
decided not by arguments or logical deductions but by action and energy. The 
strongest will conquer. 

The author quotes Nietzsche, Wundt, Ihering, Hegel, and Schopenhauer in- 
discriminately and remains always on the surface. He scarcely touches the real 
problems of ethics, which is not a "super-ordination of the conclutory interests," 
not a mere submission to the common will of society (Gesammtwillen). Is it not 
possible, nay, even a frequent occurrence, that one individual is morally right in 
opposition to all others ? It is true that the strongest will conquer, but the question 
is who is the strongest ? Is the tiger stronger than man, and is there no strength 
whatever in logical argument or in truth ? p. c. 

SOREN KIERKEGAARD ALS PHILOSOPH. By Harald Hoffding, Professor der Phi- 
losophic an der Universitat Kopenhagen. Mit einem Vorwort von Christoph 
Schrempf, Lie. Theol. Stuttgart ; Fr. Frommanns Verlag (E. Hauff). 1896. 
Pages, 170. Price M. 1.50. 

GUSTAV THEODOR FECHNER. By Kurd Lassivitz. Stuttgart : Fr. Frommanns Ver- 
lag (E. Hauff). 1896. Pages, 204. Price, M. 1.75. 
HOBBES LEBEN UND LEHRE. By Ferdinand Tonnies. Stuttgart : Fr. Frommanns 

Verlag (E. Hauff). 1896. Pages, 232. Price, M. 2.00. 

Imitating a practice which has been extensively developed in America and Eng- 
land, a German publishing house has begun the publication of a series of Philo- 
sophical Classics, being monographs on the life and work of the leading philoso- 
phers of all times. The series, which is edited by Prof. Richard Falckenberg, of 
Erlangen, begins with the three volumes before us, and will be supplemented by the 



BOOK REVIEWS. 137 

following: "Galileo," by Dr. Natorp, of Marburg; "Bayle," by Dr. Eucken, of 
Jena; "Hume," by Dr. Riehl, of Kiel; "Kant," by Dr. Paulsen, of Berlin; 
"Rousseau," by Dr. Hoffding, of Copenhagen; "Feuerbach," by Dr. Jodl, of 
Vienna; " AugusteComte," by Dr. Windelband, of Strassburg ; and "Spinoza," 
"Hegel," "Schleiermacher," "Herbart," " D. F. Strauss," " Herbert Spencer, " 
and "Fr. Nietzsche," by other competent writers. It is intended to publish from 
three to four volumes yearly. From its cheapness and promised solidity the series 
will doubtless be a valuable acquisition to the popular literature of the history of 
philosophy, and although some of the subjects have been much overworked, there 
are several concerning which it would be difficult to find the same information in 
other places. This is notably the case with the three initial volumes of the series 
"Fechner," "Hobbes."and "Kierkegaard." These three philosophers receive here 
excellent treatment at the hands of recognised authorities, who have, in addition, 
suggestive material of their own to offer. 

The personality of S. Kierkegaard, although a commanding figure in Danish 
life and thought, is little known outside the boundaries of his native country, and, 
if we except the accidental acquaintanceship made by superficial students of Dan- 
ish literature, even this knowledge is shared only by men of kindred spirit, whose 
aspirations run in the same channel. Of that great movement which has now for 
a quarter of a century been slowly gathering irresistible force, and whose aim is to 
reach a juster and more practical conception of the laws regulating human conduct, 
and particularly to harmonise the traditions touching this matter with the reasoned 
thought of the present, Kierkegaard was one of the greatest forerunners and most 
powerful exponents. The importance and power of Kierkegaard, like that of Socra- 
tes (he was the Socrates of Copenhagen), lies mainly in his personality. The main- 
spring of his entire thought and action was his colossal hypochondria, his distinct- 
est patrimony, stamping every lineament of his life. His subjectivism in philoso- 
phy, his individualism in ethics and in religion are its logical issues, and in it, too, we 
find the full psychological explanation of the scheme of philosophy which he elabo- 
rated. His works are numerous and bear mainly upon the burning ethical prob- 
lems of existence. They have all an intensely practical bearing, and, in style, the 
incisive forcefulness which comes from straightforward and honest effort. His 
prose, direct, homely, and vivid, joined to great persuasive power, wealth of meta- 
phor, satire, and invective, stands unrivalled in Danish literature. If he is not 
more widely known it is mainly because of his singular excellence in this regard. 
For although some of his work has been translated into German, like Carlyle and 
Emerson, he must be read in his native language to be adequately appreciated and 
students of Danish are few. 

As to his philosophy, its fundamental features are determined by the predomi- 
nantly religious cast and effort of his thought, which studied psychology and ethics 
merely as the propaedeutics of a mode of life. His interests were never purely the- 
oretical or scientific, but ethical, educational, and salvational. It is the main and 






138 THE MONIST. 

only proper aim of thought, he contends, to discover the methods by which man is 
best fitted to lead a moral life in this world. He attempted this by first seeking a 
method of life for himself and afterwards establishing its validity for others. He 
regarded it as his duty "to raise difficulties" in the world of thought, which has, 
by the way, always been the philosophical method, and to exhibit the breaches be- 
tween the logical consequences of ideas and the practical compromises which the 
world, by the exigencies of historical evolution, has been forced to make. He was 
bent upon unmasking the illusions and deceptions which man had thus imposed 
upon himself. His criterion of truth was absolute subjective clearness on all points 
a view which had its roots in his intense and supersaturated egoism and, this 
clearness reached, the courageous and honest adoption of the alternative presented 
as the upshot of such investigations. Either-Or, was his motto, the title of one of 
his most important works, and the name by which his unique figure was known 
even to the gamins in the streets of Copenhagen. 

This same feature leads to an important characteristic of his general scheme of 
thought, which he has termed the leap or saltus the cold plunge of resolution, the 
mental acrobatic feat which precedes all momentous decisions and which, in his 
view, marked even the growing action of nature. He knew nothing of evolution, 
and did not even permit its most natural and primitive intimations to affect his 
system. There was no continuity for him either in the natural or in the mental 
world all went by breaches, ruptures, solutions of unity. He had absolutely no 
sense for the organic, nor even for the determinative aspects, of existence. Things 
leapt into existence, they became not. By such magic somersaults the world grew ; 
by such its institutions were born, and by them man, too, was destined to carve out 
his salvation. In the same indeterministic fashion Christianity was catapulted into 
existence, and, having existed, illogically enough was foreordained to continue ever 
after as it originally was, unmodified by history or circumstances, and admitting of 
no compromise with the world or worldliness. 

Kierkegaard's battle for the rehabilitation of primitive Christianity in its pur- 
est, rigidest, and most unadulterated form, was the crowning achievement of his 
life. It brought him into conflict with the ruling church, which he repudiated as a 
dishonest and hypocritical compromise with the worldly spirit of the times, and 
subjected him to not a little annoyance in the way of petty persecutions, which 
were rendered more easy by sundry grotesque features of his thought and person- 
ality. He was a standing figure in the comic journals of Copenhagen, a distinc- 
tion which he resented bitterly, and having been once maliciously accused of a 
discrepancy in the longitude of his trousers' legs, gravely refuted the charge in his 
diary. But these were mere wrinkles on the anatomy of his greatness. His ideal- 
ity, moral earnestness, his great literary power and puissant manliness, render him 
a gigantic figure in Denmark, and certainly one of uncommon stature in the race. 
For as a religious thinker, even by the world's standard, he will stand high, al- 
though as a philosopher his position is not so lofty ; and it is not the least of Prof. 



BOOK REVIEWS. 139 

Harald Hoffding's merits in this appreciation of his life to have pointed out frankly 
the obvious inconsistencies of his doctrines. 

* * 

Prof. Kurd Lasswitz, in his sketch of the life and work of Gustav Theodore 
Fechner, has attempted a critical resume of the achievements of modern science in 
their bearing upon the ontological and cosmological problems of the world. He 
treats of motion and consciousness by the light of the new epistemological re- 
searches, and resolves the antinomies which they offer in an ingenious and mas- 
terly manner. His discussion of the significance of the threshold of perception as 
the criterion and distinctive characteristic separating the psychical from the phy- 
sical is a skilful and creditable piece of analysis, but as it has been presented at 
considerable length in a recent number of The Monist, by the author himself, there 
is no need of our reverting to it here. The in pages of the work which are de- 
voted to the delineation of Fechner's life show us the great psychologist as a stu- 
dent of medicine and disciple of the Naturphilosophie, a physicist who makes im- 
portant researches in electricity and optics, and as a literary hack who is forced to 
earn his means of existing and of prosecuting his scientific researches by toilsome 
drudgery. They also tell us of his humorous writings, his ventures generally into 
literature, and of his four years of illness in middle life, when he was obliged to 
cease absolutely from all intellectual labor and from the least social intercourse 
with his family and the world. This period seems to have determined his bent for 
philosophy, which on his recovery he zealously pursued, giving to the world the 
works which contained the germs of all his views on the empsychosis of the uni- 
verse and of so-called inorganic matter, and also of his doctrine of the parallelism 
of feeling and motion. His great work on Psychophysics appeared in 1860, in his 
fifty-ninth year, and the rest of his long life was devoted to the development and 
defence of the principles it established. Here falls his important work in analytic 
and experimental aesthetics, and finally we have the book in which he casts up his 
views of the world and of human destiny. His was a deeply religious nature, with 
a slight strain of mysticism, accounted for by his early philosophical environment, 
gentle, unassuming, and noble. He died in 1887 at the age of eighty-six, after hav- 
ing seen the science of which he was the principal founder attain undreamt-of 
breadth of development. 

* * * 

The life of Thomas Hobbes, of Malmesbury, by Dr. Tonnies, remains to be 
noticed. It has been a work of love for its author, who has achieved an honorable 
reputation for his researches in the life and work of this great English thinker, and 
who has done as much as any contemporary writer to reinstate Hobbes in his true 
importance and fame. We have first a sketch of the life of the philosopher and of 
the genesis of his works, and then a discussion of his doctrines, his metaphysics, his 
logic, his mechanics, physics, anthropology and politics. In most of these depart- 
ments Hobbes wrought permanent acquisitions to science which have been system- 



140 THE MONIST. 

atically obscured by posterity, although it can hardly be said that eminent vouchers 
of his philosophical importance have ever been wanting. Nevertheless, it will be 
well if interest in his work can be heightened and if we can trace to their true source 
there the beginnings of critical ideas which have dominated the two succeeding 
centuries. And to this effect Dr. Tonnies's little book will contribute much. McC. 

HISTORY OF PRUSSIA UNDER FREDERIC THE GREAT. 1756-1757. By Herbert Tuttle, 
Late Professor in Cornell University. With a Biographical Sketch of the 
Author. By Herbert B. Adams. Boston and New York : Houghton, Mifflin, 
and Co. 1896. Pages, 159. 

Prof. Herbert Tuttle, the greatest authority in Prussian history in the United 
States, and Professor at Cornell University, died in 1894, leaving his great work 
the History of Prussia Under Frederic the Grtat unfinished. Two volumes had ap- 
peared (1740-1745 and 1745-1756) and another was ready for publication (1756- 
1757), while the remainder was still in the shape of notes and references. Professor 
Tuttle's colleague and friend, Herbert B. Adams, was entrusted with the honor of 
editing the third volume, which now lies before us prepared with a biographical 
sketch of the lamented author. 

Professor Tuttle was a born historian. He tells history by confining himself to 
the essential and introducing the incidental only where it is needed for a comple- 
tion of the picture. He shows a keen appreciation of characters and is always just 
and fair in his judgment. He is more concise and at the same time less prejudiced 
than Carlyle, and his merits have been freely recognised by German scholars. 
Erdmanndorffer, the historian, and Gneist, the jurist, were full of praise when speak- 
ing of Professor Tuttle, who had become to the American nation a noble interpreter 
of German thought, and was equal in worth to Bayard Taylor, the famous trans- 
lator of Goethe's Faust. The latter worked on different lines and in a different 
field, which was the literary Germany ; yet the domain which Herbert Tuttle had 
selected as his life-work was not of less but rather of more importance. Tuttle 
stood in the midst of practical life. As the Berlin correspondent for the London 
Daily News and the Ne%v York Tribune he enjoyed great advantages, and his 
pleasant home in the Hohenzollernstrasse was a cosmopolitan centre of attraction 
for many prominent men of politics and science. Among the distinguished guests 
whom he received were Moltke, Helmholtz, the young Bismark, and others of sim- 
ilar prominence. His most noted American friends are President Angell of Ann 
Arbor and Andrew D. White of Ithaca. The former was his first teacher of history, 
and his spirit had deeply influenced and formed the methods of Herbert Tuttle ; 
but it was the latter who encouraged him to follow the natural bent of his inclina- 
tions and suggested to him the project of aspiring for a university career. 

Tuttle. met, in Berlin, Miss Mary McArthur Thompson, a student of art and 
an occasional correspondent on art to the International Gazette. She was the 
daughter of Judge Thompson, of Hillsboro, Highland County, Ohio, and he mar- 



BOOK REVIEWS. 14! 

ried her at her father's home July 6, 1875. She remained his faithful companion 
and coworker until his untimely death. 

In speaking of Tuttle, the best expounder of the Prussian spirit, of Prussian 
heroism, and Prussian sense of duty, we ought to explain the greatness of this re- 
markable people and the dynasty that at last succeeded in resuscitating the old 
German empire and making the German name respected not only in the realm of 
literature and science but also in the world of politics. But we could not do it 
better than it has been done by Professor Tuttle himself, and since the subject is 
not only of interest but also of importance, we shall not begrudge him the space 
for it in this review of his posthumous work but quote it in full. It is a lesson that 
our American youths should well remember. It was at a banquet given by Amer- 
icans on a Fourth of July at Berlin that Mr. Tuttle was called upon to respond to 
a toast "Americans in Europe," where among other striking remarks he spoke the 
following noteworthy words : 

"We are content to learn without teaching, to observe without reforming ; and 
" in this sense I shall ask leave to address for a moment that class of students, old 
"and young, who earnestly seek to profit by the study of the social and political 
"institutions of Europe. Holding myself the most needy of them all, what I have 
" to say will be only in the form of suggestion. The first valuable lesson which 
" the thoughtful American learns here in Berlin, for instance, is, in my opinion, to 
"take off his hat when the Emperor drives along the street. I say this with all 
' ' earnestness, for beneath the practice lies one of the profoundest moral truths in 
"the economy of social life. To say that it is a mere act of servility to a reigning 
"prince, or a recognition of the monarchical principle, is as unjust as it would be 
"to accuse me of reading this company a paltry lesson in etiquette. No, in this 
"act of respect to the head of the State we simply recognise the majesty of the 
" State itself. We do homage to that long series of brave monarchs, to that com- 
"bination of valor, sagacity, and patience which expanded the little mark of Bran- 
" denburg, almost hiding in the swamps from the savage Wends, into the fair pro- 
portions of the Prussian State and the mighty system of the German Empire. 
"We are really in the presence of the immortal heroes of Fehrbellin, of Rosbach, 
" of Sadowa, of Gravelotte, and of a hundred other victorious battlefields. We are 
"uncovered before the Protestant Reformation, to which Prussia and Germany 
"owe so much. And, sir, when we cross the ocean and confront a different form 
"of government, this eternal truth still asserts itself, or ought to assert itself, 
"through all the violence and passion of party conflicts. It is not simply the spirit 
"of this day, it is not the publicity of this occasion, but obedience to an earnest 
' ' conviction of political duty, which leads me not only to echo your own eulogies 
"upon the first magistrate of the Republic, but to endow him in fancy with all the 
' ' virtues of Washington, and Jefferson, and Adams, and Lincoln. By this means 
"we exalt our conception of the office, we exalt the office itself. But the base par- 
tisan spirit of detraction, the impudent and obtrusive familiarity, the utter want 



142 THE MON1ST. 

"of courtesy to the man for the sake of the high office, from which not even the 
"American President is spared, is more than bad taste, more than a display of ill- 
" breeding, it is demoralising and dangerous. And the man who, in the press, 
"or on the platform, or anywhere, fails in that delicate and noble consideration, 
" seems to me to want one of the first qualities of the perfect citizen. He is false 
" to his own better nature, and disrespectful to the long series of names which have 
"rendered illustrious the annals of that great office. Presidents come and go, 
" some of them come too soon and go too late, but they are all links in that glori- 
"ous succession which for a century makes up the historical harmony of the State. 
"Therefore I plead, Mr. Chairman, for all those trifling courtesies, for all those 
"delicate social observances, which lend dignity to any political system, and exalt 
' ' the conditions of all public life. 

' ' If time permitted, I might call the attention of American students to other ob- 
" jects worthy their careful notice in Europe. I might mention that recognition of 
"the omnipotence of law which, even among so orderly a people as ours, is not 
"invariably felt in a broad, general, abstract sense. I might set over against the 
"energy and restlessness of American life the element of aesthetic repose, which is 
"an important condition of all great achievements in science, or art, or literature. 
' ' But these can only be suggested, and others must be wholly omitted. 

"In conclusion, Mr. Chairman, you will permit me, almost a veteran as it 
"were of our little colony here, to pay a slight tribute to the young men whom 
1 ' during a term of four years I have seen come and go. I have known them and 
"watched them carefully. I have observed their lofty scholastic zeal; I have 
"learned to know their high conscientious purpose ; and as their countryman I can 
"say from the bottom of my heart that I am proud of them. They are not indif- 
ferent students; they are not superficial observers ; and I am convinced that in 
"their chosen professions, whether medicine, law, theology, or political science, 
"they will carry back the best results of foreign study, and a broader equipment 
" for the duties of the American citizen." 

This is the spirit in which our young men should go abroad, and if they apply 
Professor Tuttle's lesson, they will on their return to America be a blessing to their 
own country and serve as channels through which the greatness of the Old World 
may flow over into the national life of the New World without adding here to the 
cramping conditions which there form a hindrance to a freer and higher develop- 
ment, p. c. 

ERKENNTNISTHEORETISCHE GRUNDZUGE DER NATURWISSENSCHAFTEN UND IHRE BE- 

ZIEHUNGEN ZUM GfiisxESLEBEN DER GEGENWART. Allgemein Wissenschaft- 

liche Vortrage. By Dr. P. Volkmann, Professor an der Universit'at Konigs- 

bergi. Pr. Leipsic : B. G. Teubner. 1896. Pages, 181. Price, 6 Marks. 

Professor Volkmann is a physicist by profession whom the waxing interest now 

centring about the philosophical problems of science, has moved to a daring plunge 



BOOK REVIEWS. 143 

into the "rude imperious surge" of epistemology. There is much in his book to 
commend, particularly its humanistic and popular spirit, as also the exalted educa- 
tional objects which it sets. On this, and related excellences, there can be but one 
opinion. The interest of the philosophical student, however, lies in a different di- 
rection, narrower, and in a measure more ungenerous, but technically of para- 
mount importance, an interest that concerns the independent and original con- 
tribution which the book ostensibly makes to science ; and on this point there is 
ground for difference. 

Perhaps owing to the popular form in which his thoughts are cast, Professor 
Volkmann's expositions have not the rigor and impressiveness which intrinsically 
belong to them ; but antecedently we should be inclined to think to the contrary. 
The simple forms of the mathematical and physical sciences best lend themselves 
to the considerations with which epistemology is concerned, and it is precisely 
the simplest of these simple forms in connexion with which the elements of this 
discipline ought to be most satisfactorily developed. The success which the scien- 
tific predecessors of Professor Volkmann have achieved in this department is al- 
most exclusively due to the fact that they have set out from just these branches of 
inquiry. 

The volume is made up partly of a number of popular articles which orig- 
inally appeared in Himmcl und Erdc, and partly of a series of popular lectures de- 
livered in Konigsberg. They discuss broadly the relations of the sciences and 
philosophy, the historical attitudes of mankind to knowledge, the characteristic 
features and tendencies of the main branches of scientific and humanistic research, 
the distinctive methods of scientific investigation, the wonderful acquisitions which 
have been its upshot, and lastly but not least, the bearings of all this momentous 
work upon methods of research in sociology and upon practical educational and 
intellectual problems. All this, as a matter of reproductive exposition, has been 
done clearly and intelligibly, in a manner commensurate with the author's accred- 
ited competency, and not infrequently with the added ornament of really elucidat- 
ing the points at issue. What criticisms we have to make, apply solely to the 
principles which the author has advanced with polite but evident pretensions to 
power and novelty as epistemological aids, and which he regards as his unique 
and valuable contribution to the subject. These are the principles of Isolation and 
Superposition, which we may now briefly examine. 

Nature bears, to all appearances, a predominantly composite character, which 
in cognition must be resolved into its constituent or determinative elements. These 
elements are then again combined to reobtain the phenomena of nature according 
to the varied exigencies of life and thought. Ordinarily these processes are styled 
abstraction and combination, analysis and synthesis, separation and composition, 
but Professor Volkmann prefers to call them isolation and superposition designa- 
tions which in his judgment carry meanings not conveyed by the traditional terms. 



144 THE MONIST - 

Superposition has a well-defined signification in elementary geometry, as a 
method of demonstrating congruency, and in physics as the method of adding vec- 
tors. It is only in this last meaning that it has any analogy with the proposed 
usage of Professor Volkmann, saving, perhaps, its etymology. It is possible that 
being "foreign words" in German, both these terms have a more technical clang 
in that language, and offer a seemingly richer field of prospective association than 
they do in English, where their use is common. This is an important considera- 
tion in the choice of new designations, as is evidenced by the formation of scientific 
terminology, and by the sorry figure which sometimes quite excellent appellations 
of new principles in one language cut when translated into another. Or again, they 
may be viewed as catch-words. Catch -words, even where they do not embody 
new ideas, may greatly elucidate the mechanism of research, if they are at all 
happy or even passably rich in associations, since this last attribute, as involving 
the principle of comparison, is really at the root of explanation. But either of 
these implied criteria a new term must satisfy. It must either have a rich conno- 
tation or admit of such being supplied. And neither of these demands do Professor 
Volkmann's innovations seem to satisfy, at least in a sufficient manner to justify 
the ousting of the old terms. 

Do they offer then anything new on the side of their contents ? We think not. 
Professor Volkmann's isolation is simply abstraction, and we gain nothing by say- 
ing we isolate the qualities and effects of nature rather than abstract them, any 
more than we should by saying that we separate or extricate them. The legitimate 
function of these terms is that of synonyms or helps in defining a fundamental 
operation. Similarly, we gain nothing by saying the superposition of forces rather 
than the composition of forces, nor by speaking of the superposition of effects gen- 
erally rather than of their apparent complexity or mingled action, which in nature 
itself and objectively is one and only requires analysis because of the needs of our 
comprehension. Thus, a given force may be always viewed as the resultant of an 
indefinite number of other forces, indefinitely directed. But in the system of nature 
itself such a superposition of forces can scarcely be said to have actual significance, 
be its intellectual and practical justification what it may. 

Professor Volkmann lays no stress on superposition as a principle of nature, 
however, but emphasises it solely as a principle of epistemology, having its proto- 
type in the composition of forces. Yet what it elucidates here more than the pres- 
ent conception of the phenomena elucidates is also difficult to see. That the forces 
act independently of one another, or as if they produced their effects successively 
and separately, must be discovered and stated in both cases ; and when that has 
been done there is nothing left. It is then just as clear to say that they are com- 
pounded as that they are superposed. The same is true of the other examples ad- 
duced (p. 76 et seq.) ; their character is apparent from their mere statement. And 
as to the extended application of the principles, to the concepts of abstract and 
concrete, theory and practice, school and life, being and thinking, etc., these too 



BOOK REVIEWS. 



'45 



must be pronounced unfortunate, since they can only be regarded as metaphorical 
extensions of the same idea, obvious enough, but withal considerably strained. 

For example, since abstract and concrete are synonymous respectively with 
centre of isolation and superpositum, and forasmuch as a natural law is an abstrac- 
tum, centre of isolation, or isolatum, therefore we can never logically expect that 
there should exist a law comprehending and explaining the entirety of nature, for 
the reason that nature is a concretum or, novo termino, a superpositum where- 
with a dangerous but popular metaphysical error is refuted. 

The conclusion is undeniable. Yet it might be just as well to risk the chances 
of being misunderstood by merely saying that a thing which is a knowledge of a 
part cannot logically be a knowledge of a rvkole consisting of dissimilar parts. As 
an instance of the power of the new view the example is not felicitous. 

There is no gainsaying but Professor Volkmann by long dwelling upon his 
ideas of isolation and superposition through the associations naturally formed 
has found them of inestimable value in his personal efforts at orientation ; but we 
opine that their natural sphere of usefulness ceases at this point. In denying to 
them absolute validity, we must bear in mind his prefatory disavowal of such a 
qualification for all epistemological norms, and his position that we are in search 
here of advantageous points of view only. But have they a wide validity even as 
such ? Are they not an encumberment of our epistemological machinery, which is 
pretty heavy as it is ? A supererogation ? In our judgment they merely elaborate 
the fact that the processes of analysis and synthesis have always been, and are still, 
widely used in thinking. 

We have no occasion to remark upon Professor Volkmann' s strictures of Mo- 
nism, as he identifies its doctrine 'absolutely with the principles advanced by 
Haeckel ; their falling wide of the mark here is not our concern. Nor are our own 
animadversions to be conceived as derogatory to the general merits of Professor 
Volkmann's book, merits which we believe are solid and which we have suffi- 
ciently emphasised above. T. J. McC. 

GRUNDRISS EINER GESCHICHTE DER NATURWISSENSCHAFTEN, ZUGLEICH EINE EIN-. 

FOHRUNG IN DAS STUDIUM DER NATURWISSENSCHAFTLICHEN LlTTERATUR. 

Von Dr. Friedrich Dannemann. I. Band : erlauterte Abschnitte aus den 
Werken hervorragender Naturforscher. Mit 44 Abbildungen in Wiedergabe 
nach den Original werken. Leipsic : Wilhelm Engelmann. 1896. Pages, 
375. Price, M. 6. 

The closing years of the nineteenth century have been pre-eminently years of 
reflexion and retrospect. In the fever and haste of acquisition which followed 
upon the astounding revelations of the two first and classical centuries of scientific 
inquiry, ours had little time or composure for reverting to the works of the masters 
either for criticism or for stimulus. For the first the need did not as yet exist, and 
as for the second, perhaps, the quelling sources had not yet run dry. But with the 



146 THE MONIST. 

increase of the body of knowledge and the infinitely ramifying extension of its de- 
tails, the necessity of keeping handbooks and treatises up to date, all of which led 
to reproductions of reproductions in untold measure, humanity got farther and 
farther away from its original inspiration in certain departments much to the det- 
riment of critical inquiry, but more so to that of instruction. Thus, even in the 
first decade of this century we find an eminent mathematician complaining that 
Newton, the Bernoullis, and even Euler were not read, and ascribing certain grave 
aberrations in his science to their neglect. Thomson & Tail's effort to re-establish 
the hegemony of Newton's dynamical ideas is known to all. 

The reaction first and naturally set in in connexion with the historical sciences, 
philosophy, Biblical research, literature, etc., and although it was long before its 
quickening effect was felt in science, the vigor with which it is now taking posses- 
sion of this field, has made amends for its tardiness. Its visible expression is the 
vast number of recent books by scientists on the theory of knowledge, histories of 
special sciences and groups of sciences, the humanistic and organic character which 
instruction is taking on, and lastly but most important of all, and having an intim- 
ate connexion with the foregoing, the publication of series of Scientific Classics, 
from which students may draw their inspiration undefiled. The best known of 
these are the series of Dr. Ostwald, published by W. Engelmann of Leipsic, and 
the fac-simile reprints of epoch-making works issued by Mayer & Miiller of Berlin. 
We may have occasion to mention these in detail later. 

The most recent testimony of the power, beauty, and utility of the new idea, 
as a means of quickening instruction, is the book by Dr. Dannemann now under 
notice. Dr. Dannemann's work is designed to be an elementary history of the 
natural sciences, wherein the accounts of the great monumental discoveries of sci- 
ence shall be given in the original words of their first promulgators. The powerful 
stimulus which such a book offers cannot be overrated. It is intended primarily 
for students in high schools, poly technical schools, colleges, etc., but is so delight- 
ful and unique in character, and supplies so gaping a want in the literature of in- 
struction and of autodidactic reading that there is no lover of scientific culture, nor 
even of genuine classical culture, but could wish its pages might be ardently dwelt 
upon and absorbed by every man and woman. It is no exaggeration to place upon 
it a religious valuation. The day is not many centuries distant when such a book, 
compiled perhaps on slightly different lines, will take its place in our home-libraries 
by the side of The Imitation or the Mahaparinibbdna Sutta. 

The idea of using for purposes of instruction classical researches of the great 
masters of science is not a new one, having been proposed a long time ago by Pro- 
fessor Mach of Vienna as being psychologically and aesthetically far better qualified 
for imparting the genius of science than the systematic but dry study of skeleton 
compendiums. Professor Mach's plan aimed at positive, typical instruction in sci- 
ence for students not intending to pursue a professional scientific career, and would 
have embraced only a few but relatively complete researches. Dr. Dannemann's 



BOOK REVIEWS. 147 

idea is slightly different. His selections comprehend nearly all departments of in- 
quiry and constitute, so to speak, an anthology of science. The book may be com- 
pared to the Quellenkunde of historical students, although it is both more and less 
than a book of sources in giving specimen passages and in not giving full bibliogra- 
phies. 1 We can convey no more vivid idea of the beautiful and useful character 
of the work, nor bestow upon it higher praise than by enumerating a list of the 
passages reproduced, each of which is preceded by a brief biography and character- 
isation of its author. 

There are 62 in all. The first four are from the Zoology of Aristotle, from the 
mechanical and mathematical works of Archimedes, and from Pliny's risumt of 
the scientific knowledge of antiquity. The fifth is from Copernicus, enunciating 
the heliocentric system. The sixth, seventh, and eighth are from Galileo: (i)on 
the Copernican doctrine, (2) on falling bodies, and (3) on the discovery of the 
moons of Jupiter and the rings of Saturn. The ninth is Gilbert on the magnet, the 
tenth Kepler on comets. The eleventh is on Bacon as the promulgator of the in- 
ductive method of inquiry. 

Next come Pascal and PeYier on barometer-heights, Guericke on the air-pump, 
Newton on sunlight and the law of gravitation, Huyghens on the undulatory charac- 
ter of light, Mariotte on the atmosphere, Swammefdam on bees, Hales on the phy- 
siology of plants, Celsius on the thermometer, Kant and Laplace on the origin of 
the universe, Chladni on meteors, Euler on the undulatory theory, Aepinus on elec- 
tricity, and Franklin on the lightning-rod Scheele's discovery of nitrogen, Lavoi- 
sier and Laplace on combustion and on heat, Galvani on electricity, and selections 
from Goethe's Meta jnorphosis of Plants, follow. Then we have Sprengel on the 
fertilisation of flowers, Saussure's chemical researches on vegetation, Blumenbacb 
on anthropology, Cuvier's enunciation of his "natural system," Dalton's atomic hy- 
pothesis, Berzelius on the fixed proportions of atoms, Gay-Lussac on the law of vol- 
volumes, and on iodine, Davy on potassium and sodium, Cuvier on catastrophes, 
Lyell on geology, Wohler on aluminium, and Oersted on the magnetic needle as af- 
fected by the electric current. Afterwards come extracts from Faraday's Experi- 
mental Researches, Talbot's invention of photography, Johannes Mttller on the sense 
of sight, Schwann on the cells of organisms, and Schleiden's refutation of the as- 
sumption of vital force. The last are Liebig on vegetable nutrition, Unger on the 
transition from the vegetable to the animal world, Darwin on the formation of coral 
islands, Bessel's first measurement of the distance of a fixed star, Carnot on the 
theory of the steam engine, Mayer on the conservation of energy, Schonbein on 
ozone, Schrotter on red phosphorus, Pasteur on micro-organisms, Kirchhoff and 
Bunsen on spectrum analysis, and, lastly, Alexander von Humboldt's resume of the 
state of natural knowledge in the year 1845. 



1 A second volume is promised, portraying the connexions of the sciences whose results are 
here exhibited. 



148 THE MONIST. 

From this list no one can withhold his admiration. Additional selections might 
be suggested, but none could well be omitted. 

In commending the book of Dr. Dannemann, we could do the student no greater 
service than to recommend for his collateral perusal Carus Sterne's Allgemeine 
Weltanschauung in ihrer historichen Entwickehing (Stuttgart : Otto Weisert), which 
depicts in rapid and brilliant strokes the connected development of that body of 
knowledge of which Dr. Dannemann offers the living documents. 

T. J. McCORMACK 

DIE GRASSMANN'SCHE AUSDEHNUNGSLEHRE. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Mathe- 
matik in den letzten fiinfzig Jahren. Von Dr. V. Schlegel, Professor an der 
Gewerbeschule in Hagen. Leipsic : B. G. Teubner. 1896. Pages, 44. 
Grassmann's ideas have been widely studied in America, and much non-pro- 
fessional curiosity has been aroused with regard to them. The present contribution 
by Dr. V. Schlegel to the history of the great work embodying them will therefore 
be a welcome help to all who desire a closer knowledge of the externalities of the 
subject, to mathematicians as a bibliographical survey, and to laymen as char- 
acterising the significance of the movement. Dr. Schlegel was a teacher at Stettin 
and a younger colleague of Grassmann during the latter years of the great mathe- 
matician's life, and has since devoted most of the time which he could spare from 
his professional labors to the enthusiastic research of Grassmann's achievements. 
The present brochure, which has been wisely printed in separate form, so as to be 
accessible to students, is a brief and accurate history of the Ausdehnungslehre and 
of its broadly ramified relationships with other branches of mathematics. The 
useful bibliography which is appended contains more than one hundred and eighty 
titles, while that indispensable adjunct, an index of names, is not missing. //. 

INTRODUCTION TO SOCIOLOGY. By Arthur Fairbanks. New York : Imported by 

Charles Scribner's Sons. 1896. Pages, xv, 274. Price, $2.00. 
THE PRINCIPLES OF SOCIOLOGY. An Analysis of the Phenomena of Association and 
of Social Organisation. By Franklin Henry Giddings, M. A. Professor of 
Sociology in Columbia University in the City of New York. New York : 
Macmillan and Co. 1896. Pages, xvi, 476. Price, $3.00. 
There are so many minds now engaged in studying the laws which govern the 
problems presented by society, it is not surprising that these two works should ap- 
pear about the same time, although that of Professor Giddings had a short pre- 
cedence. Necessarily they go over much the same ground, and for this reason, as 
well as owing to certain contrasts they present, they may with propriety be reviewed 
together. It is true that Professor Fairbanks does not claim to have given even a 
systematic outline of the principles of Sociology. He admits, moreover, his obliga- 
tions to Professor Giddings's earlier writings, although the Principles of Sociology 
reached him only after his own work was in type. But it is for others to judge of 



BOOK REVIEWS. 149 

the merits of his contribution to the science of which he treats, and they cannot be 
pointed out better than by a comparison of his views with those enounced in Pro- 
fessor Giddings's more ambitious work. This claims to have placed sociology on a 
true basis, by referring association and social organisation to the ' ' consciousness 
of kind " which marks off the animate from the inanimate, and by treating it con- 
sequently as a psychological instead of a biological science. 

In a few paragraphs, on nearly the last page of his book, Professor Giddings 
puts and answers the question whether society is an organism. He regards this as 
the final question for the student, and thus unconsciously provides a test by which 
to judge of the merits of his book, if not of its theory. His conclusion is that a 
society is "as much higher and more complex than an organism as an organism is 
higher and more complex than inorganic matter." It is an organisation the func- 
tion of which is "the evolution of personality through ever higher stages until it 
attains to the ideal that we name humanity." This function must be always active, 
and thus we are told, that "at every step the sociological task is the double one, 
to know how social relations are evolved, and how they react on the development of 
personality." But how can the task be properly performed unless we have a gen- 
eral idea of the nature of the existence under consideration ? In reality this is as- 
sumed, and as the whole question is as to the character of the laws which govern 
its activity and the results of their operation, it is advisable, if not essential, to 
begin the study of society by obtaining as clear an idea as possible of its general 
nature. 

The importance of this point is recognised by Professor Fairbanks, who begins 
the first chapter of his book by the statement, that "the first work of the student 
of sociology is to form a general conception of the nature of a society or social 
group, that object which he proposes to study." The question here implied is an- 
swered by allowing to society the organic character, without admitting it to be 
actually an organism. The organic character of a society is denoted by its unity, 
combined with remarkable complexity of structure, which unity and the develop- 
ment of the society are determined from within. The real unity is dynamic, and 
therefore consists, "not in the structure, but in the one process in which all the. 
parts depend intimately on each other." Professor Giddings, on the other hand, 
speaks of society as an organisation, by which he means ' ' a complex of psychical 
relations," having a physical basis. Thus, it evidently possesses an organic char- 
acter, and like an organism, " it may exhibit every phase of evolution of differen- 
tiation with increasing cohesion or unity." Though Professor Giddings concludes 
that a society is much higher and more complex than an organism, yet he affirms 
that the analogy sought to be established by Mr. Spencer between the social consti- 
tution and the constitution of a " biotic organism " is real, while at the same time 
the former possesses features that are distinctive. 

Thus, although the individual is the simplest unit of society, he is naturally a 
social being. It is true that, as Professor Fairbanks suggests, man was not orig- 



150 THE MONIST. 

inally a gregarious animal "of choice." But he had no volition in the matter. His 
nature required him to be social. The feeling in which the " attractive forces " of 
society are based is an essential feature of human character. It exhibited its action 
in the first union of man and woman, and it was intensified when the enlarged unit 
of society, the family, was completed by the birth of the first child. In the funda- 
mental position assigned by Professor Fairbanks to the attractive forces in the 
formation of society we have one of the most important features of his work. Pro- 
fessor Giddings refers to the development of sympathies, but these are due, accord- 
ing to his theory, to the educational influence of association, which results in " a 
feeling of pleasure in the mere presence of a fellow creature. " It is evident that 
this feeling is different from the consciousness of kind which he postulates as ' ' the 
original and elementary subjective fact in society," and which he explains as "a 
state of consciousness in which any being, whether low or high in the scale of life, 
recognises another conscious being as of like kind with itself." Consciousness of 
ikind he believes to be "co-extensive with potential society and with nothing else," 
and therefore fulfils the sociological requirement. But mere consciousness of kind 
may exist under conditions which preclude the formation of social groups, and it 
would be useless for this purpose in the absence of the feeling of pleasure in the 
mere presence of a fellow creature, which Professor Giddings refers to as one of 
4he creations of association, but which, rather than simple consciousness of kind, 
we should consider to be the fundamental fact. 

Conflict occupies an important position in Professor Giddings's theory, and 
fie regards it as unnecessary to prove that "social intercourse is a mode of con- 
flict." And yet, although a clash of atoms or of thoughts may be necessary to pro- 
gress, without some other process there would be no positive results. Attraction 
as well as repulsion is necessary to a perfect vibration, and if social intercourse is 
nothing but a mode of conflict society proper would never have existed. Society 
is an organic unity, and that which forms its actual basis, the family, is an expres- 
sion, not of conflict, but of the attractive forces which Professor Fairbanks properly 
regards as part of the psychical character of individuals, and which constitute the 
real social bonds. The family is thus naturally regarded as a social unit, and to 
Professor Giddings it is, indeed, the social unit, although, according to him, the 
family is not properly a society unless it includes adopted members. But we would 
suggest, that if the actual primordial family consisted, as there are reasons for be- 
lieving, of a woman and her children, that is, the simplest group of blood-relations, 
then the father of the children may be considered as an adopted member of the 
family, which, as thus augmented, becomes a true social group. 

The actual value of the association of man and woman in primitive communi- 
ties is not developed in either of the works under review. It is recognised, although 
not fully, by Professor Fairbanks when treating of the beginning of separate eco- 
nomic functions. He gives the first place, as a source of separation, to the differ- 
ence between the strong and the skilled, and the second place to the difference be- 



BOOK REVIEWS. 151 

tween the sexes. In relation to the latter, he says, " the general line of division 
was between the outer world, and the inner world of the family which began to be 
formed. To the man fell the duties of protection from attacks of man and beast, 
and the procuring of game for food. The work of the home, such as the prepara- 
tion of food, the manufacture of garments, care for the children, the provision of 
whatever man may need or desire, this was commonly the woman's lot. This 
source of differentiation was no less important than the preceding, in providing the 
basis for a higher type of social organisation." It was more so, as society is the 
co-ordinated expression of the internal and external activities represented by the 
two sexes. Woman stands for the attractive forces which form the cement of so- 
ciety in all stages of its development, and man for the repelling forces which govern 
the external relations of primitive societies, and which are referred to by the term 
"conflict." The former are represented by the gens, which originally consisted 
of the descendants of a common female ancestor, and the latter by the tribe. Pro- 
fessor Fairbanks says little as to the origin of these social groups, but the subject 
is dealt with fully by Professor Giddings, who follows in the lines of his predeces- 
sors. A little more originality would have been advisable, as the views of Dr. J. 
F. M'Lennan and other early writers are open to considerable criticism, as the 
present writer has shown in his work on The Development of Marriage and Kin- 
ship. The hordes about which Professor Giddings has much to say, are probably 
only portions of disintegrated tribes. The existing cases he refers to are of no value 
for the purposes of his argument, especially as he has fallen into an error in class- 
ing among them the aboriginal Australian social groups. As shown by Mr. A. W. 
Howitt, the native Australians have a perfect tribal organisation, and what Pro- 
fessor Giddings treats as a horde is really a tribe consisting of several totemic 
groups. Otherwise his explanation of the historical evolution of society is very 
good. It is considered under the heads of Zoogenic Association, Anthropogenic 
Association, Ethnogenic Association, and Demogenic Association. Professor Fair- 
banks deals with the subject of association much less fully. His mode of treatment, 
however, requires him to give special prominence to particular topics, and hence 
he has separate chapters on " The Industrial Organisation of Society" and "The 
State as an Organ of Social Activity." In the latter he refers to the tendencies of 
the modern state to interfere with economic activities and to become the employer 
of labor in numerous forms of industry, without passing any judgment on this de- 
batable subject. 

We are pleased to see that in both the works under review the " Social Mind," 
which is the General Mind of G. H. Lewes under another name, is considered de- 
serving of treatment in a separate chapter. Both writers regard it as existing only 
in individual minds, although it is more than any individual mind. Professor Fair- 
banks is particularly happy in his dealing with the relations of the individual to so- 
ciety. He speaks of the person as "the concrete expression of the group life," 
though progress proceeds from individuals, whose personality is the ' ' true and ad- 



152 THE M ON 1ST. 

equate expression " of the psychical life of the past and of the present ; which 
agrees with Professor Giddings's conclusion that the function of social organisation 
is the evolution of personality. The work of Professor Fairbanks has two chapters 
on the influence of natural selection in human society, where it insures the survival 
of the fittest individuals, the fittest groups, and the fittest institutions. Struggle is 
raised to the psychical plane, and its aim is supremacy instead of destruction. To 
Professor Giddings also society is a psychical phenomenon, but physical energy is 
the source of all its activity and equilibration of energy the cause of all its changes, 
social progress being thus a phase of physical evolution under the influence of the 
psychical factor. The relation of psychology to sociology is a practical question of 
great moment, and Professor Giddings's view of it is seen in the statement, that 
' ' psychology is the science of the association of ideas. Sociology is the science of 
the association of minds." But as psychology is concerned with "the genesis and 
with the combinations of the elements of mind," it is rather the science of the asso- 
ciation of states of consciousness than of ideas. Professor Fairchild's opinion is 
that the individual mind does not exist until it is developed in society. So that psy- 
chology has to deal with man in society, and sociology with ' ' the psychical life 
which arises when men enter into organic union." Thus, " the subject of the two 
sciences is the same, and the difference between them is simply a difference of 
standpoint." We would suggest that the principles are the same in each, but that 
one is concerned with the individual mind and the other with the general or so- 
cial mind. 

There are various other matters dealt with by these two works which might be 
referred to, but we will content ourselves with saying generally that, notwithstand- 
ing the criticisms we have felt bound to make, they are both deserving of much com- 
mendation. In a sense they may be regarded as complementary to one another 
each supplying the other's deficiencies. If the student reads first Professor Fair- 
banks's "Introduction to Sociology " and then the "Principles" of Professor Gid- 
dings, which we should state has an excellent index, he will obtain a very fair 
knowledge of the nature, scope, and aim of sociology. C. STANILAND WAKE. 

SCHOPENHAUER'S SYSTEM IN ITS PHILOSOPHICAL SIGNIFICANCE. By William Cald- 
well, M. A., D. Sc. New York: Imported by Charles Scribner's Sons. 
1896. Pages, 538. Price, $3.00 net. 

That the interest in the philosophy and personality of Schopenhauer continues 
unabated is evidenced by the respectable number of contributions which yearly 
make their appearance, expounding, criticising, or developing his views. One of 
the latest of these is by William Caldwell, Professor of Moral and Social Philoso- 
phy in the Northwestern University at Evanston, and formerly of the universities 
of Edinburgh and St. Andrews. Professor Caldwell's book, which is rather a 
portly volume, but bears withal the marks of profound scholarship and thorough 
philosophical culture, is not a didactic exposition of Schopenhauer's philosophy de- 



BOOK REVIEWS. 153 

signed to initiate the reader into the primary elements of the latter's system, but an 
attempt "to suggest the significance of Schopenhauer's thought as an organic 
work." The author has tried to connect Schopenhauer " with some few broad lines 
of philosophical and general thought with some few broad principles of human 
nature." The selection of Schopenhauer as the theme most distinctly adapted to- 
exhibiting the bent and upshot of modern thought, is explained by the fact that 
Professor Caldwell regards him, with Von Hartmann, as representing together one- 
half of modern philosophy. Von Hartmann Professor Caldwell hopes to be able to 
treat in a subsequent volume. 

The present work is divided into ten chapters. The first considers Schopen- 
hauer's significance. The second and third, which treat of his idealism and his 
theory of knowledge, attempt to dig down to the theoretical roots of his philosophy. 
The fourth chapter is concerned with the " bondage of life," from which art and 
ethics and religion are supposed to set us free. Chapters V., VI., VII., and VIII. 
present Schopenhauer's philosophy of art, his moral philosophy, and his philosophy- 
of religion, by which he is mainly known to the general public of to-day. Chapter 
IX. treats of his " Metaphysic," and is designed to exhibit the fundamental char- 
acter of his thought as a whole. The last chapter essays a positive statement of his 
system. In this and the " Epilogue " the author suggests points " which might form 
the material for further study and exposition." 

Having stated the contents, we shall now notice some of the conclusions which 
Professor Caldwell has reached, omitting critical comment. 

" It is the service of Schopenhauer," says Professor Caldwell, "to have re- 
' ' versed the whole process of German philosophy, and to have looked at man from 
"the side of irrational action and passion, things to which Kant's ethics and He- 
" gel's system had done scant justice. He really wrote about the 'natural man ' for 
" 'all time/ saying, perhaps, the last word on that subject in philosophy." 

We should naturally be tempted to regard this reversion as a degeneration, but 
far from being a retrograde philosopher, Schopenhauer is a direct successor of Kant, 
"although, perhaps, on an opposite line to that of Hegel." Practically, Schopen- 
hauer took his stand upon science, but he placed limitations upon its potency as a 
speculative instrument. Besides his unsystematic methods slightly offset his advan- 
tage in this respect ; as Goethe was a Gelegenheitsdichter, so Schopenhauer was a 
Gelegenheitsphilosoph, making "little serious attempt to correlate his own thought 
with any other system in existence save, perhaps the Kantian philosophy." 

Though " Schopenhauer's system has a strong materialistic coloring, it is not 
" materialism. It is rather animalism or panpsychism. His theory of life is essen- 
" tially metaphysical ; living beings are individuations of the will to live, the prin- 
" ciples of individuations being space and time." He accepted the Berkeley-Kant- 
ian analysis of reality, which, of course, excluded the slightest suspicion of 
materialistic leanings. Virtually he contends " for a new kind of idealism about re- 
ality, a dynamic idealism in which the reality of all things is determined by the 



154 THE MONIST - 

function and purpose they discharge in the cosmic process. " He maintained that 
the world is will, and will means for him force or impulse ; "but," says Professor 
Caldwell, " he still conceives of will in primarily a negative way. He comes in the 
end to tell us what the world is not, and what the end of life is not." We may de- 
tect here the germ of his Buddhistic and pessimistic predilections. 

The result is a sort of illusionism, which Schopenhauer essays to escape from 
by his peculiar treatment of the religious problem. " In its highest reaches," says 
Professor Caldwell, "Schopenhauer's philosophy becomes virtually a metaphysic 
' ' of the redemption of the individual from his own misery and from that of the 
41 world. . . . His treatment of religion is important. It is essentially different from 
41 that of Kant and from rationalism generally, laying far more stress on the pecu- 
liarly religious feelings as elements in the solution of the religious problem." 

It is no adequate characterisation of Schopenhauer's philosophy, Professor 
Caldwell thinks, to call it pessimism. "Schopenhauer himself attached quite as 
much importance to the positive aspects of his system as to the negative." His suc- 
cess among the degenerates is owing to the circumstance that "it is naturally com- 
"forting at times to be able to put one's self in the hands of a man who had the 
"strength to assault all intellectual presuppositions and theories about life whatso- 
' ' ever, and, in particular, to help to overturn a philosophy whose proudest boast 
"it was to exhibit the intellect or the idea as actually victorious over both nature 
"and history." His success generally is due to the fact that his philosophy chron- 
ilces "the effort a century has had to make to reconcile its ideal theories about life 
with the facts that science has disclosed or thinks it has discovered." 

Lastly, Professor Caldwell emphasises Schopenhauer's contempt for dogma 
and history, which incapacitated him from understanding and justly appreciating 
even his own mission, which was to "correlate idealism and realism, Platonism 
and life." Therein, according to Professor Caldwell, lay his real work, of which, 
however, strange to say, he was absolutely unconscious. As to his influence, ' ' he 
41 appealed to those who were without any gospel, to those who felt that the will 
"was at the bottom of everything, but who yet could not feel that they had been 
"wrong in believing something else to be at the bottom of everything. The re- 
" deeming thing about him and those who began to listen to his teaching was that 
' ' both he and they had got hold of a fact greater, perhaps, than they could reckon 
"with, but still a fact." 

From the preceding statements we may, perhaps, also gather some inkling of 
Professor Caldwell's own views. T. J. McC. 

GRUNDRISS DER GESCHICHTE DER PHILOSOPHIE, ZUM SELBSTSTUDIUM UND FUR VOR- 
LESUNGEN. Von Dr. Johannes Rehmke, o. o. Professor der Philosophie zu 
Greifswald. Berlin : Carl Duncker. 1896. Pages, 308. 
The literature of Germany is extraordinarily rich in histories of philosophy, and 

their number seems to be steadily on the increase. The last to enter the field is 



BOOK REVIEWS. 155 

Dr. Johannes Rehmke, Professor of Philosophy in Greifswald, who has now en- 
riched the growing cycle of his works by the present business-like and concise Ru- 
diments, designed for autodidactic purposes or for collateral use with lectures. Its 
succinct form, utterly eschewing comments and discussions, its banishment of all 
biographical details, the omission of unnecessary prefaces and introductions, are 
all qualities which unite in making it unique and valuable and deserving of recom- 
mendation for students whose interest is not in need of being aroused. So far as 
we have been able to examine it, it is a faithful miniature reproduction of its mate- 
rial, devoting to each thinker adequate space, measured by his relative importance 
in the development of philosophy. 

Professor Rehmke characterises the object of philosophy to be the denning of 
reality, full and entire, in terms of its general controlling factors; hence its desig- 
nation of universal or fundamental science. Its expressed function is the answer- 
ing of all general questions touching the world or reality in its largest sense. 

Excluding India and all tentative and groping speculation (we cannot infer 
from the author's statements whether he places the philosophy of India on the same 
level with primitive and unsystematic attempts at solving the problems of existence), 
he makes philosophy begin with the Greeks. The development of philosophy is 
divided into two main parts the history of ancient, and the history of modern phi- 
losophy : the first comprising the time from 600 B. C. to 1600 A. D. ; the latter em- 
bracing the period from 1600 A. D. to the present. To the ancient period 101 pages 
are devoted, and to the modern 203. The entire era of the rise of Grecian philos- 
ophy, extending from the Ionic physiologers through the Pythagoreans, Heraclite- 
ans, Eleatics, Empedocles, Anaxagoras, and the Atomicians to the Sophists, re- 
ceives but 23 pages. The commanding figures of ancient philosophy, Socrates, 
Plato, and Aristotle, receive 38. The decline of ancient philosophy, which is made 
to extend from the Peripatetics, Epicureans, Stoics, etc. to Scholasticism, Western 
Mysticism, and the philosophical Humanists of the sixteenth century, receives 39 
pages. Modern philosophy is divided into three periods, the Pre-Kantian, the 
Kantian, and the Post-Kantian. In the first, Bacon (3 pages), Hobbes (8 pages), 
Descartes (14 pages), Geulinx, Malebranche, Spinoza (18 pages), Locke (n pages), 
Berkeley (7 pages), Hume (16 pages), the Scottish School, the philosophers of the 
French Illumination, Leibnitz (17 pages), Wolff, and the philosophers of the Ger- 
man Aufklarung, receive consideration. To Kant, forty-six pages are devoted. 
After Kant are treated Fichte (n pages), Schelling (3 pages), Hegel (5 pages), 
Schleiermacher, Schopenhauer (8 pages), Herbart (6 pages), and Lotze (3 pages). 
Lotze concludes the work. A glance at the preceding list and the figures showing 
the space devoted to the respective philosophers, will indicate the scope and predi- 
lections of Professor Rehmke's treatment. Its economic qualities alone might jus- 
tify its translation into English, provided this could be fluently and not woodenly 
done. . 



156 THE MONIST. 

DE PLATONICIS MYTHIS. Thesim Facultati Litterarum Parisiensi. Proponebat 
Ludovicus Couturat. Paris : Felix Alcan. 1896. Pages, 119. 

SUR UNE NOUVELLE METHODS POUR DETERMINER LA CHRONOLOGIE DBS DIALOGUES 

DE PLATON. Memoire lu le 16 Mai, 1896, a 1'Institut de France, devant 
L' Academic des Sciences Morales et Politiques. By W. Lutoslaivski. Paris : 
H. Welter. 1896. Pages, 34. Price, 2 Fr. 

The work of M. Louis Couturat forms a thesis presented to the Faculty of 
Letters at Paris. In examining the contradictions of the traditional conception of 
the Platonic doctrines, which students of the subject have left unexplained, the 
author has noted that the majority of the difficulties spring from the comparison of 
texts embodying mythical views with purely didactic passages of the Dialogues, 
and that consequently a criticism of the Platonic myths should precede every ex- 
pressed interpretation of Plato's doctrines. Thus he has remarked that many pas- 
sages which interpreters have taken as the dogmatic expression of Plato's thought, 
are obviously expressions of irony or allegory on the philosopher's part. To dis- 
tinguish between the two species of expression, therefore, he has first subjected to 
scrutiny the actual myths of Plato, and with the criteria thus gathered has pro- 
ceeded to the investigation of all anomalous passages, hoping to prove by his tests 
that the same are allegorical utterances. He has thus constructed from the actual 
myths a working allegorical vocabulary for the interpretation of Plato's veiled 
myths, and has found that God, the idea of divinity, the idea of reminiscence, the 
pre-existence and survival of the soul, all belong to this category. The circulation 
and perusal of M. Couturat's thesis will not be enhanced by its being written in 
Latin. 

While upon this subject attention should be called to a little brochure by W. 
Lutoslawski, Professor at the University of Kazan, on a new method of determining 
the chronology of the Dialogues of Plato, being a memoir read in May last before 
the Institute of France. Professor Lutoslawski gives here a brief outline of his 
comprehensive labors in this field, which to the special student will be of undoubted 
interest. As Professor Lutoslawski is at work upon an English volume, to be pub- 
lished by Longmans, and containing the full elaboration of his views, it is unneces- 
sary for us to say anything more than that his researches are based upon the 
stylistic differences of the Platonic Dialogues as corroborated by the method of 
" logical comparisons" treated in this memoir. /z/cp/c. 



A MACHINE FOR SOLVING NUMERICAL EQUATIONS. 

A curious machine for the mechanical solution of equations, invented by Mr. 
George B. Grant of Boston, Mass., is described in the American Machinist for 
Sept. 3, 1896 (New York : 256 Broadway), which is of considerable theoretical in- 
terest, and if the delicacy of its construction bears out its author's claims, is not 
without practical importance. Five scale-beams, pivoted on parallel sliding car- 



BOOK REVIEWS. 157 

riages vertically arranged and carrying negative and positive pans, have their right 
{positive) arms, A N t so jointed at variable points B as to act successively on one 
another. The ratio of the distances A N/B N=x is kept uniform by means of a 
gearing, from the wheels of which through the carriage and guiding them run 
screws. This ratio is indicated on a graduated scale, having values from i to ex, 
by a pointer attached to the fulcrum of the lower beam. Compounding the ratios 
of the jointed (positive) lever-arms we obtain the condition of equilibrium, and as 
the corresponding expression therefor, from the multiplication of four binomial 
factors, the typical equation of the fourth degree a x* + ** + cx*dxe = o, 
the coefficients of which represent the weights to be placed in the respective posi- 
tive and negative pans. The ratio of distances, or the root x of the equation, is 
then readily determined by turning a crank, being reached and indicated when the 
machine assumes equilibrium. 

Since for x to be zero the distance B N would have to be infinitely great 
(AX/B N=x), the machine will not find roots approximating to zero ; but this 
difficulty may be obviated by transformation. Also large roots cannot be deter- 
mined with precision, for UN will have long passed below the limits of mechanical 
manipulation before x has attained very large values ; in fact the distance between 
the values i and 2 on the scale is eight or nine times that between 16 and oo. This 
also may be partly remedied by transformation. On the other hand, the machine 
does not require the multiple roots to be thrown out, nor that the co-efficient of the 
highest term should be either positive or unity. Also, since any beam may be left 
unweighted and hence the coefficient of the corresponding term reduced to zero, 
the machine will solve partial equations and consequently extract the roots of num- 
bers representable in the common -binomial form. The inventor claims it to be 
practicable to construct a machine delicate enough to find roots to two or three 
decimal places, so that the instrument might be used as a partial practical substi- 
tute for Sturm's theorem. 

The free end of any beam, furnished with a pencil point, would trace a curve 
representing the equation. But the true equational curve must be indirectly pro- 
duced. It is possible that with the appropriate mechanism, conquering the limita- 
tions of the machine, this curve might be directly traced ; and it would then, at 
least for purposes of instruction, furnish a more powerful and certainly more 
graphic means of elucidating the equation than the scale. At the points of equi- 
librium the curve would cross the line of the abscissas and so indicate the roots 
measured on that line, we could see at a glance the character of the roots, etc. 
This geometrical method of investigating equations has a wide practical application 
and was beautifully presented a century ago by Lagrange, who even suggested an 
instrument for resolving upon this basis numerical equations of all degrees, without 
limitation of the positive or negative character, or magnitude, of the roots. It would 
be interesting to know if Lagrange's idea has ever been developed. (See the Seances 
des Ecoles Normales for 1794-1795.) T. J. McC. 



PERIODICALS. 



REVUE DE METAPHYSIQUE ET DE MORALE. Vol. IV. No. 4. 

LA " GlJOMfiTRIE " DE DESCARTES AU POINT DE VUE DE SA METHODS. By B. 

Gibson. LA METHODS DE DESCARTES AVANT LE DISCOURS. By /. Berthet. 

LE DEVELOPPEMENT DE LA PENS^E DE DESCARTES DEPUIS LES " RfiGUL^E " 

JUSQU'AUX "MEDITATIONS." By P. Natorp. LA PREUVE ONTOLOGIQUE 

CARTfiSIENNE DE>ENDUE CONTRE LEIBNITZ. By A. Hannequin. LES RE- 
CHERCHES DE DESCARTES SUR LA CONNAISSANCE DU MONDE EXTERIEUR. By 

H. Schwarz. DESCARTES PHYSICIEN. By P. Tannery. DESCARTES ET 
SNELLIUS, D'APRES QUELQUES DOCUMENTS NOUVEAUX. By D. J. Korteiveg. 

DU RAPPORT DE LA MORALE A LA SCIENCE DANS LA PHILOSOPHIE DE DESCARTES. 

By E. Boutroux. LE TRAIT DBS PASSIONS DE DESCARTES ET L'ETHIQUE DE 
SPINOZA. By V. Brochard. L'INFLUENCE DE LA PHILOSOPHIE CARTSIENNE 

SUR LA LITTERATURE FRAN9AISE. By G. LanSOn. LE CHRISTIAN1SME DE 

DESCARTES. By M. Blondel. DESCARTES JUGE PAR Vico. By F. Tocco. 
CORRESPONDANCE DE DESCARTES (Autographes et copies manuscrites). By 
Ch. Adam. (Paris: Armand Colin & Cie.) 

The editors of the Revue de M&taphysique et de Morale have paid a fitting trib- 
ute to the memory of Descartes in this stately number of their journal. Descartes 
was born in 1596, and in commemoration of the third centenary of his birth, they 
have devoted a whole special number to the consideration of his life, work, and in- 
fluence. The number has been made international in character, and all the prin- 
cipal countries of Europe have been represented. Descartes is treated under five 
aspects : (i) of his method ; (2) of his metaphysics ; (3) of his physics ; (4) of his 
ethics ; and (5) of his influence and personality. The wealth of matter offered by 
the Revue will be apparent from a glance at the contents, which are given above. 

It may not be inopportune to mention on this occasion the project of a com- 
plete edition of the works of Descartes which the editors of the Revue have in hand, 
the cost of which is to be defrayed by international subscription. The edition will 
take up ten volumes of from seven hundred to seven hundred and fifty pages each, 
two of which are to be published yearly. Each volume will cost twenty-five francs, 
but may be had by subscribers to the Revue for fifteen francs. (Editor, M. Xavier 
Leon, 39 rue des Mathurins, Paris, France ; Publishers, Armand Colin & Cie, 5 
rue de Mezieres. Yearly subscription, 15 francs.) 

PROCEEDINGS OF THE ARISTOTELIAN SOCIETY FOR THE SYSTE- 
MATIC STUDY OF PHILOSOPHY. Vol. III. No. 2. 
PRESIDENTIAL ADDRESS. Time and the Absolute. By B. Bosanquet, M. A., 
LL. D. WHAT is MEANT BY THE A Priori ELEMENT IN KNOWLEDGE ? By 



PERIODICALS. 159 

E. C. Benecke. ANSELM'S ONTOLOGICAL ARGUMENT FOR THE EXISTENCE OF 
GOD. By C. C. J. Webb, M. A. PHILOSOPHY AND NATURALISM. By //. 
W. Blunt, B. A. PROFESSOR JAMES ON THE EMOTIONS. By S. Bryant, 
D. Sc. KANT'S TELEOLOGY. By C. L. Davies, M. A. SYMPOSIUM. In 
what Sense, if any, is it true that Psychical States are Extended ? I. G. F. 
Stout, M. A. ; II. S. Bryant, D. Sc.; III. /. //. Midrhead, M. A. The 
A Priori IN GEOMETRY. By Hon. B. Russell. SYMPOSIUM. Are Character 
and Circumstances Co-ordinate Factors in Human Life, or is Either Sub- 
ordinate to the Other? I. B. Bosanquet, M. A., LL. D.; II. E. E. C. Jones.; 
III. W. L. Gildea, D. D. ; IV. A. F. Shand, M. ,4. APPENDIX. (London : 
Williams and Norgate. Price, two shillings.) 

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

THE RELATION OF INTUITIONISM TO THE DOCTRINE OF SELF-REALISATION. By 
Prof. Henry Calderwood. THE FOURTH DIMENSION OF SPACE. By Prof. 
J. //. Hyslop. MORALITY THE LAST OF DOGMAS. By Antonio Llano. 
DISCUSSIONS : I. Self-Consciousness, Social Consciousness, and Nature. By 
Prof. J. E. Russell ; II. Mr. Balfour and Transcendental Idealism. By 
Prof. K. B. Johnson ; III. The Intensive Statement of Particular and Nega- 
tive Propositions. By Prof. Margaret Washburn. 

Is MORALITY WITHOUT RELIGION POSSIBLE AND DESIRABLE ? By Prof. Otto 
Pjleiderer. THE IDEALISM OF SPINOZA. By Prof. J. Clark Afttrray. ON 
THE RELATIONS OF PSYCHOLOGY TO OTHER SCIENCES. By Dr. Harold Grif- 
fing. THE CAUSE AND FUNCTION OF CONSCIENCE. By Prof, S. E. Mezes. 
BOOK REVIEWS, ETC. (Boston, New York, Chicago: Ginn &Co.) 

In the most notable and timely article of the September number of the Philo- 
sophical Review, Professor Pfleiderer sums up his reflexion on the relations of mo- 
rality and religion as follows : ' ' One must strive for the reformation of the church 
"in the name of the eternal religio-ethical idea. This can only be done from 
"within, along the line of historical development. Hence it can only be accom- 
" plished with the help of a scientific theology. Societies for Ethical Culture, which 
" despise these methods, are as helpless and impotent against the church as a band 
1 ' of robbers before a strongly defended fortress. The only result of their efforts 
" will be that the religious sentiment of the community will suffer. Either there 
' ' will be a loss of religious and ethical convictions, and a consequent ethical retro- 
" gression, or their efforts will indirectly contribute to promote a reaction, having 
"as its consequence a relapse into dogmatism and ecclesiasticism. In both cases 
"the effect will be contrary to what they really desire. It is evident, therefore, 
1 ' that those who are in earnest in demanding a truly ideal morality and a truly eth- 
" ical community must labor, not for a morality outside of the church, but for a 
"reformation within the church." 

THE AMERICAN JOURNAL OF PSYCHOLOGY. Vol. VII. No. 4. 

ON MUSCULAR MEMORY, By Theodate L. Smith. A PRELIMINARY STUDY OF 
SOME OF THE MOTOR PHENOMENA OF MENTAL EFFORT. By Ernest If. Lind- 
ley. LIGHT INTENSITY AND DEPTH PERCEPTION. By T. B. Robinson, A. B. 
ATTENTION, EXPERIMENTAL AND CRITICAL. By Frank Drew. PSYCHOLO- 
GICAL LITERATURE. NOTES. (Worcester, Mass.: J. H. Orpha.) 



l6o THE MONIST. 

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW. VOL. III. No. 5. 

STUDIES FROM THE PSYCHOLOGICAL LABORATORY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF IOWA : 
On the Effects of Loss of Sleep : G. T. W. Patrick, and /. Allen Gilbert. 
STUDIES FROM THE PSYCHOLOGICAL LABORATORY OF HARVARD UNIVERSITY : 
I. The Relations of Intensity to Duration of Stimulation in Our Sensations 
of Light : James E. Lough. II. Normal Motor Automatism : Leon M. Solo- 
mons and Gertrude Stein. ON THE CONDITIONS OF FATIGUE IN READING. 
By Harold Grijfing and Shepherd Ivory Franz. THE ACCURACY OF OBSER- 
VATION AND OF RECOLLECTION IN SCHOOL-CHILDREN. By Shepherd Ivory 
Franz and Henry F. Houston. DISCUSSION, ETC. (New York : Macmillan 
& Co., 66 Fifth Avenue.) 

ARCHIV FUR SYSTEMATISCHE PHILOSOPHIE. Vol. II. No. 3. 

DER BEGRIFF DES DASEINS UNO DAS ICH-BEWUSSTSEIN. (II.) By J. Berg- 
mann. GRUNDLINIEN EINER THEORIE DER WILLENSBILDUNG. (III.) By/*. 
Natorp. DIE PSYCHOLOGISCHEN GRUNDLAGEN DER BEZIEHUNGEN ZWISCHEN 
SPRECHEN UNO DENKEN. (I.) By Benno Erdmann. JAHRESBERICHT UBER 
ERSCHEINUNGEN DER SOCIOLOGIE AUS DEN JAHREN 1893-1894, NEBST VOR- 
BERICHT. By Ferdinand Tb'nnies. (Berlin : Georg Reimer.) 

ZEITSCHRIFT FUR PSYCHOLOGIE UND PHYSIOLOGIE DER SINNES- 
ORGANE. Vol. XI. Nos. 3, 4, 5 and 6. Vol. XII. No. i. 

UEBER KOMBINATIONSTONE UND EINIGE HIERZU IN BEZIEHUNG STEHENDE AKUS- 
TISCHE ERSCHEINUNGEN. By Max Meyer. UEBER DIE BEDEUTUNG DES 
WEBERSCHEN GESETZES. (II.) By A. Meinong. DAS EINFACHSEHEN UND 
SEINE ANALOGIEN. By Sigmund Reichard. 

VERSUCHE UBER DAS VERGLEICHEN VON WINKELVERSCHIEDENHEITEN. By Dr. 
St. Witasek. AESTHETISCHE UNTERSUCHUNGEN IM ANSCHLUSS AN DIE LIPPS- 
SCHE THEORIE DES KOMISCHEN. (II.) By G. Heymans. UEBER DIE BE- 
DEUTUNG DES WEBERSCHEN GESETZES. (III. Concluded.) By^f. Meinong. 
ZUR GESCHICHTE DER DREIFARBENLEHRE. By W. Preyer. UEBER DEN 

SCHEINBAREN GROSSENWECHSEL DER NACHBILDER IM AUGE. By W. Scharivin 

and A. Novizki. DIE AUFMERKSAMKEIT UND DIE FUNKTION DER SINNES- 
ORGANE. Zweiter Beitrag. By W. Heinrich. ERWIDERUNG. By G. Hey- 
mans. 

UEBER DEN EINFLUSS VON LICHTSTARKE UND ADAPTATION AUF DAS SEHEN DES 
DICHROMATEN (GRUNBLiNDEN). By J. v. Kries and W. Nagel. DIE GEO- 
METRISCH-OPTISCHEN TAUSCHUNGEN. (Vorlaufige Mitteilung.) By Th. Lipps. 
: NEUE METHODE ZUR HERSTELLUNG HOMOGENER GRAUER FLACHEN VON 
VERSCHIEDENER HELLIGKEIT. By Karl Marbe. LITTERATURBERICHT. 
(Hamburg and Leipsic : Leopold Voss.) 



VOL. VII. JANUARY, 1897. No. 2. 



THE MONIST. 



THE LOGIC OF RELATIVES. 

i. Three Grades of Clearness. The third volume of Professor 
Schroder's Exact Logic ^ which volume bears separately the title I 
have chosen for this paper, is exciting some interest even in this 
country. There are in America a few inquirers into logic, sincere 
and diligent, who are not of the genus that buries its head in the 
sand, men who devote their thoughts to the study with a view to 
learning something that they do not yet know, and not for the sake 
of upholding orthodoxy, or any other foregone conclusion. For them 
this article is written as a kind of popular exposition of the work 
that is now being done in the field of logic. To them I desire to 
convey some idea of what the new logic is, how two " algebras," 
that is, systems of diagrammatical representation by means of let- 
ters and other characters, more or less analogous to those of the 
algebra of arithmetic, have been invented for the study of the logic 
of relatives, and how Schroder uses one of these (with some aid 
from the other and from other notations) to solve some interest- 
ing problems of reasoning. I also wish to illustrate one other of 
several important uses to which the new logic may be put. To this 
end I must first clearly show what a relation is. 

Now there are three grades of clearness in our apprehensions 
of the meanings of words. The first consists in the connexion of 



1 Algebra und Logik der Relative. Leipsic : B. G. Teubner. 1895. Price, 
i6M. 



1 62 THE MONIST. 

the word with familiar experience. In that sense, we all have a 
clear idea of what reality is and what force is, even those who talk 
so glibly of mental force being correlated with the physical forces. 
The second grade consists in the abstract definition, depending 
upon an analysis of just what it is that makes the word applicable. 
An example of defective apprehension in this grade is Professor 
Tait's holding (in an appendix to the reprint of his Britannica 
article, Mechanics} that energy is " objective" (meaning it is a sub- 
stance), because it is permanent, or "persistent." For independ- 
ence of time does not of itself suffice to make a substance ; it is 
also requisite that the aggregant parts should always preserve their 
identity, which is not the case in the transformations of energy. 
The third grade of clearness consists in such a representation of 
the idea that fruitful reasoning can be made to turn upon it, and 
that it can be applied to the resolution of difficult practical prob- 
lems. 

2. Of the term Relation in its first Grade of Clearness. An es- 
sential part of speech, the Preposition, exists for the purpose of 
expressing relations. Essential it is, in that no language can exist 
without prepositions, either as separate words placed before or 
after their objects, as case-declensions, as syntactical arrangements 
of words, or some equivalent forms. Such words as "brother," 
"slayer," "at the time," "alongside," "not," "characteristic 
property " are relational words, or relatives, in this sense, that each 
of them becomes a general name when another general name is af- 
fixed to it as object. In the Indo-European languages, in Greek, 
for example, the so-called genitive case (an inapt phrase like most 
of the terminology of grammar) is, very roughly speaking, the form 
most proper to the attached name. By such attachments, we get 
such names as "brother of Napoleon," "slayer of giants," " exi 
'EXXiffffaiov, at the time of Elias," "napa a\\rjK(*)V, alongside of 
each other," "not guilty," "a characteristic property of gallium." 
Not is a relative because it means "other than "; scarcely, though a 
relational word of highly complex meaning, is not a relative. It has, 
however, to be treated in the logic of relatives. Other relatives do 
not become general names until two or more names have been thus 



THE LOGIC OF RELATIVES. 163 

affixed. Thus, "giver to the city "is just such a relative as the 
preceding ; for " giver to the city of a statue of himself" is a com- 
plete general name (that is, there might be several such humble ad- 
mirers of themselves, though there be but one, as yet) ; but "giver" 
requires two names to be attached to it, before it becomes a com- 
plete name. The dative case is a somewhat usual form for the sec- 
ond object. The archaic instrumental and locative cases were ser- 
viceable for third and fourth objects. 

Our European languages are peculiar in their marked differen- 
tiation of common nouns from verbs. Proper nouns must exist in 
all languages ; and so must such "pronouns," or indicative words, 
as this, that, something, anything. But it is probably true that in 
the great majority of the tongues of men, distinctive common nouns 
either do not exist or are exceptional formations. In their meaning 
as they stand in sentences, and in many comparatively widely- 
studied languages, common nouns are akin to participles, as being 
mere inflexions of verbs. If a language has a verb meaning " is a 
man," a noun "man" becomes a superfluity. For all men are 
mortals is perfectly expressed by "Anything either is-a-man not or 
is-a-mortal." Some man is a miser is expressed by "Something 
both is-a-man and is-a-miser." The best treatment of the logic of 
relatives, as I contend, will dispense altogether with class names 
and only use such verbs. A verb requiring an object or objects to 
complete the sense may be called a complete relative. 

A verb by itself signifies a mere dream, an imagination unat- 
tached to any particular occasion. It calls up in the mind an icon. 
A relative is just that, an icon, or image, without attachments to 
experience, without "a local habitation and a name," but with in- 
dications of the need of such attachments. 

An indexical word, such as a proper noun or demonstrative or 
selective pronoun, has force to draw the attention of the listener to 
some hecceity common to the experience of speaker and listener. 
By a hecceity, I mean, some element of existence which, not 
merely by the likeness between its different apparitions, but by 
an inward force of identity, manifesting itself in the continuity of 
its apparition throughout time and in space, is distinct from every- 



164 THE MONIST. 

thing else, and is thus fit (as it can in no other way be) to receive a 
proper name or to be indicated as this or that. Contrast this with 
the signification of the verb, which is sometimes in my thought, 
sometimes in yours, and which has no other identity than the agree- 
ment between its several manifestations. That is what we call an 
abstraction or idea. The nominalists say it is a mere name. Strike 
out the "mere," and this opinion is approximately true. The real- 
ists say it is real. Substitute for "is," may be, that is, is provided 
experience and reason shall, as their final upshot, uphold the truth 
of the particular predicate, and the natural existence of the law it 
expresses, and this is likewise true. It is certainly a great mistake 
to look upon an idea, merely because it has not the mode of exist- 
ence of a hecceity, as a lifeless thing. 

The proposition, or sentence, signifies that an eternal fitness, 
or truth, a permanent conditional force, or law, attaches certain 
hecceities to certain parts of an idea. Thus, take the idea of 
" buying by of from in exchange for ." This has four places 
where hecceities, denoted by indexical words, may be attached. 
The proposition "A buys B from C at the price D," signifies an 
eternal, irrefragable, conditional force gradually compelling those 
attachments in the opinions of inquiring minds. 

Whether or not there be in the reality any definite separation 
between the hecceity-element and the idea-element is a question of 
metaphysics, not of logic. But it is certain that in the expression 
of a fact we have a considerable range of choice as to how much 
we will denote by the indexical and how much signify by iconic 
words. Thus, we have stated "all men are mortal" in such a form 
that there is but one index. But we may also state it thus : "Tak- 
ing anything, either it possesses not humanity or it possesses mor- 
tality." Here "humanity" and "mortality" are really proper 
names, or purely denotative signs, of familiar ideas. Accordingly, 
as here stated, there are three indices. Mathematical reasoning 
largely depends on this treatment of ideas as things ; for it aids in 
the iconic representation of the whole fact. Yet for some purposes 
it is disadvantageous. These truths will find illustration in 13 
below. 



THE LOGIC OF RELATIVES. 165 

Any portion of a proposition expressing ideas but requiring 
something to be attached to it in order to complete the sense, is in 
a general way relational. But it is only a relative in case the at- 
tachment of indexical signs will suffice to make it a proposition, or, 
at least, a complete general name. Such a word as exceedingly or 
previously is relational, but is not a relative, because significant 
words require to be added to it to make complete sense. 

3. Of Relation in the Second Grade of Clearness. Is relation 
anything more than a connexion between two things? For exam- 
ple, can we not state that A gives B to C without using any other 
relational phrase than that one thing is connected with another ? 
Let us try. We have the general idea of giving. Connected with 
it are the general ideas of giver, gift, and "donee." We have also 
a particular transaction connected with no general idea except 
through that of giving. We have a first party connected with this 
transaction and also with the general idea of giver. We have a 
second party connected with that transaction, and also with the 
general idea of "donee." We have a subject connected with that 
transaction and also with the general idea of gift. A is the only 
hecceity directly connected with the first party ; C is the only hec- 
ceity directly connected with the second party, B is the only hec- 
ceity directly connected with the subject. Does not this long state- 
ment amount to this, that A gives B to C? 

In order to have a distinct conception of Relation, it is neces- 
sary not merely to answer this question but to comprehend the 
reason of the answer. I shall answer it in the negative. For, in 
the first place, if relation were nothing but connexion of two things; 
all things would be connected. For certainly, if we say that A is 
unconnected with B, that non-connexion is a relation between A 
and B. Besides, it is evident that an}' two things whatever make a 
pair. Everything, then, is equally related to everything else, if 
mere connexion be all there is in relation. But that which is 
equally and necessarily true of everything is no positive fact, at all. 
This would reduce relation, considered as simple connexion between 
two things, to nothing, unless we take refuge in saying that rela- 
tion in general is indeed nothing, but that modes of relation are some- 



1 66 THE MONIST. 

thing. If, however, these different modes of relation are different 
modes of connexion, relation ceases to be simple bare connexion. 
Going back, however, to the example of the last paragraph, it will 
be pointed out that the peculiarity of the mode of connexion of A 
with the transaction consists in A's being in connexion with an ele- 
ment connected with the transaction, which element is connected 
with the peculiar general idea of a giver. It will, therefore, be said, 
by those who attempt to defend an affirmative answer to our ques- 
tion, that the peculiarity of a mode of connexion consists in this, 
that that connexion is indirect and takes place through something 
which is connected with a peculiar general idea. But I say that is 
no answer at all ; for if all things are equally connected, nothing 
can be more connected with one idea than with another. This is 
unanswerable. Still, the affirmative side may modify their posi- 
tion somewhat. They may say, we grant that it is necessary to 
recognise that relation is something more than connexion ; it is 
positive connexion. Granting that all things are connected, still all 
are not positively connected. The various modes of relationship 
are, then, explained as above. But to this I reply : you propose 
to make the peculiarity of the connexion of A with the transaction 
depend (no matter by what machinery) upon that connexion hav- 
ing a positive connexion with the idea of a giver. But " positive 
connexion" is not enough ; the relation of the general idea is quite 
peculiar. In order that it may be characterised, it must, on your 
principles, be made indirect, taking place through something which 
is itself connected with a general idea. But this last connexion is 
again more than a mere general positive connexion. The same 
device must be resorted to, and so on ad infinitum. In short, you 
are guilty of a circulus in definiendo. You make the relation of any 
two things consist in their connexion being connected with a gen- 
eral idea. But that last connexion is, on your own principles, itself 
a relation, and you are thus defining relation by relation ; and if for 
the second occurrence you substitute the definition, you have to 
repeat the substitution ad infinitum. 

The affirmative position has consequently again to be modified. 
But, instead of further tracing possible tergiversations, let us di- 



THE LOGIC OF RELATIVES. 167 

rectly establish one or two positive positions. In the first place, I 
say that every relationship concerns some definite number of cor- 
relates. Some relations have such properties that this fact is con- 
cealed. Thus, any number of men may be brothers. Still, brother- 
hood is a relation between pairs. If A, B, and C are all brothers, 
this is merely the consequence of the three relations, A is brother 
of B, B is brother of C, C is brother of A. Try to construct a re- 
lation which shall exist either between two or between three things 
such as " is either a brother or betrayer of to ." You can only 
make sense of it by somehow interpreting the dual relation as a 
triple one. We may express this as saying that every relation has 
a definite number of blanks to be filled by indices, or otherwise. 
In the case of the majority of relatives, these blanks are qualita- 
tively different from one another. These qualities are thereby 
communicated to the connexions. 

In a complete proposition there are no blanks. It may be 
called a medad, or medadic relative, from jtr/dajAOS, none, and -ad a 
the accusative ending of such words as //oVasr, dvas, rpias, rerpas, 
etc. 1 A non-relative name with a substantive verb, as " is a 
man," or "man that is ," or " 's manhood" has one blank; it is 
a monad, or monadic relative. An ordinary relative with an active 
verb as " is a lover of " or "the loving by of " has two blanks ; 
it is a dyad, or dyadic relative. A higher relative similarly treated 
has a plurality of blanks. It may be called a polyad. The rank of a 
relative among these may be called its adinity, that is, the peculiar 
quality of the number it embodies. 

A relative, then, may be defined as the equivalent of a word or 
phrase which, either as it is (when I term it a complete relative), or 
else when the verb "is" is attached to it (and if it wants such at- 
tachment, I term it a nominal relative), becomes a sentence with 
some number of proper names left blank. A relationship, or funda- 
mentum relationis, is a fact relative to a number of objects, consid- 



1 The Pythagoreans, who seem first to have used these words, probably at- 
tached a patronymic signification to the termination. A triad was derivative of 
three, etc. 



l68 THE MONIST. 

ered apart from those objects, as if, after the statement of the fact, 
the designations of those objects had been erased. A relation is a 
relationship considered as something that may be said to be true 
of one of the objects, the others being separated from the relation- 
ship yet kept in view. Thus, for each relationship there are as 
many relations as there are blanks. For example, corresponding 
to the relationship which consists in one thing loving another there 
are two relations, that of loving and that of being loved by. There 
is a nominal relative for each of these relations, as "lover of ," 
and "loved by ." These nominal relatives belonging to one re- 
lationship, are in their relation to one another termed correlatives. 
In the case of a dyad, the two correlatives, and the corresponding 
relations are said, each to be the converse of the other. The objects 
whose designations fill the blanks of a complete relative are called 
the correlates. The correlate to which a nominal relative is attrib- 
uted is called the relate. 

In the statement of a relationship, the designations of the cor- 
relates ought to be considered as so many logical subjects and the 
relative itself as the predicate. The entire set of logical subjects 
may also be considered as a collective subject, of which the statement 
of the relationship is predicate. 

4. Of Relation in the third Grade of Clearness. Mr. A. B. 
Kempe has published in the Philosophical Transactions a pro- 
found and masterly "Memoir on the Theory of Mathematical 
Form," which treats of the representation of relationships by 
"Graphs," which is Clifford's name for a diagram, consisting of 
spots and lines, in imitation of the chemical diagrams showing the 
constitution of compounds. Mr. Kempe seems to consider a re- 
lationship to be nothing but a complex of bare connexions of pairs 
of objects, the opinion refuted in the last section. Accordingly, 
while I have learned much from the study of his memoir, I am 
obliged to modify what I have found there so much that it will not 
be convenient to cite it ; because long explanations of the relation 
of my views to his would become necessary if I did so. 

A chemical atom is quite like a relative in having a definite 
number of loose ends or "unsaturated bonds," corresponding to 



THE LOGIC OF RELATIVES. 1 69 

the blanks of the relative. In a chemical molecule, each loose end 
of one atom is joined to a loose end, which it is assumed must be- 
long to some other atom, although in the vapor of mercury, in ar- 
gon, etc., two loose ends of the same atom would seem to be joined; 
and why pronounce such hermaphrodism impossible ? Thus the 
chemical molecule is a medad, like a complete proposition. Regard- 
ing proper names and other indices, after an "is" has been attached 
to them, as monads, they, together with other monads, correspond 
to the two series of chemical elements, H, Li, Na, K, Rb, Cs, etc., 
and Fl, Cl, Br, I. The dyadic relatives correspond to the two se- 
ries, Mg, Ca, Sr, Ba, etc., and O, S, Se, Te, etc. The triadic rel- 
atives correspond to the two series B, Al, Zn, In, Tl, etc., and N, 
P, As, Sb, Bi, etc. Tetradic relatives are, as we shall see, a su- 
perfluity ; they correspond to the series C, Si, Ti, Sn, Ta, etc. The 
proposition "John gives John to John" corresponds in 

H 
H N H 

Fig. 2. 

its constitution, as Figs, i and 2 show, precisely to ammonia. 

But beyond this point the analogy ceases to be striking. In 
fact, the analogy with the ruling theory of chemical compounds 
quite breaks down. Yet I cannot resist the temptation to pursue it. 
After all, any analogy, however fanciful, which serves to focus at- 
tention upon matters which might otherwise escape observation is 
valuable. A chemical compound might be expected to be quite as 
much like a proposition as like an algebraical invariant ; and the 
brooding upon chemical graphs has hatched out an important the- 
ory in invariants. Fifty years ago, when I was first studying chem- 
istry, the theory was that every compound consisted of two oppo- 
sitely electrified atoms or radicles ; and in like manner every com- 
pound radicle consisted of two opposite atoms or radicles. The 
argument to this effect was that chemical attraction is evidently 
between things unlike one another and evidently has a saturation 
point ; and further that we observe that it is the elements the most 




170 THE MONIST. 

extremely unlike which attract one another. Lothar Meyer's curve 
having for its ordinates the atomic volumes of the elements and 
for its abscissas their atomic weights tends to support the opinion 
that elements strongly to attract one another must have opposite 
characters ; for we see that it is the elements on the steepest down- 
ward slopes of that curve which have the strongest attractions for 
the elements on the steepest upward inclines. But when chemists 
became convinced of the doctrine of valency, that is, that every 
element has a fixed number of loose ends, and when they conse- 
quently began to write graphs for compounds, it seems to have 
been assumed that this necessitated an abandonment of the posi- 
tion that atoms and radicles combine by opposition of characters, 
which had further been weakened by the refutation of some mis- 
taken arguments in its favor. But if chemistry is of no aid to logic, 
logic here comes in to enlighten chemistry. For in logic, the medad 
must always be composed of one part having a negative, or antece- 
dental, character, and another part of a positive, or consequental, 
character ; and if either of these parts is compound its constituents 
are similarly related to one another. Yet this does not, at all, in- 
terfere with the doctrine that each relative has a definite number 
of blanks or loose ends. We shall find that, in logic, the negative 
character is a character of reversion in this sense, that if the nega- 
tive part of a medad is compound, its negative part has, on the 
whole, a positive character. We shall also find, that if the nega- 
tive part of a medad is compound, the bond joining its positive and 
negative parts has its character reversed, just as those relatives 
themselves have. 

Several propositions are in this last paragraph stated about 
logical medads which now must be shown to be true. In the first 
place, although it be granted that every relative has a definite num- 
ber of blanks, or loose ends, yet it would seem, at first sight, that 
there is no need of each of these joining no more than one other. 
For instance, taking the triad " kills to gratify ," why may not 
the three loose ends all join in one node and then be connected 
with the loose end of the monad " John is " as in Fig. 3 making 
the proposition "John it is that kills what is John to gratify what 



THE LOGIC OF RELATIVES. 171 

is John "? The answer is, that a little exercise of generalising power 
will show that such a four-way node is really a tetradic relative, 



to gratify- 




I John it is that 
Fig. 3. 

which may be expressed in words thus, " is identical with and 
with and with "; so that the medad is really equivalent to that 

I John it is that -I l-is identical with-^ and with->. and with-j-^ 



v dllU Wllll N 

v L kills J 



]- kills -J to gratify-)-^ 
Fig. 4- 

of Fig. 4, which corresponds to prussic acid as shown in Fig. 5. 

H C 



Fig. 5- 

Thus, it becomes plain that every node of bonds is equivalent to a 
relative ; and the doctrine of valency is established for us in logic. 
We have next to inquire into the proposition that in every 
combination of relatives there is a negative and a positive constit- 
uent. This is a corollary from the general logical doctrine of the 
illative character of the copula, a doctrine precisely opposed to the 
opinion of the quantification of the predicate. A satisfactory dis- 
cussion of this fundamental question would require a whole article. 
I will only say in outline that it can be positively demonstrated in 
several ways that a proposition of the form "man = rational ani- 
mal," is a compound of propositions each of a form which may be 
stated thus : "Every man (if there be any) is a rational animal " or 
"Men are exclusively (if anything) rational animals.'* Moreover, 
it must be acknowledged that the illative relation (that expressed 
by "therefore") is the most important of logical relations, the 
be-all and the end-all of the rest. It can be demonstrated that 
formal logic needs no other elementary logical relation than this ; 



172 THE MONIST. 

but that with a symbol for this and symbols of relatives, including 
monads, and with a mode of representing the attachments of them, 
all syllogistic may be developed, far more perfectly than any advo- 
cate of the quantified predicate ever developed it, and in short in a 
way which leaves nothing to be desired. This in fact will be vir- 
tually shown in the present paper. It can further be shown that 
no other copula will of itself suffice for all purposes. Consequently, 
the copula of equality ought to be regarded as merely derivative. 

Now, in studying the logic of relatives we must sedulously avoid 
the error of regarding it as a highly specialised doctrine. It is, on 
the contrary, nothing but formal logic generalised to the very tip- 
top. In accordance with this view, or rather with this theorem (for 
it is susceptible of positive demonstration), we must regard the rela- 
tive copula, which is the bond between two blanks of relatives, as 
only a generalisation of the ordinary copula, and thus of the " ergo" 
When we say that from the proposition A the proposition B neces- 
sarily follows, we say that "the truth of A in every way in which it 
can exist at all is the truth of B," or otherwise stated " A is true 
only in so far as B is true." This is the very same relation which 
we express when we say that " every man is mortal," or " men are 
exclusively mortals." For this is the same as to say, "Take any- 
thing whatever, M ; then, if M is a man, it follows necessarily that 
M is mortal." This mode of junction is essentially the same as 
that between the relatives in the compound relative "lover, in 
every way in which it may be a lover at all, of a servant," or, other- 
wise expressed, "lover (if at all) exclusively of servants." For to 
say that "Tom is a lover (if at all) only of servants of Dick," is 
the same as to say "Take anything whatever, M; then, if M is 
loved by Tom, M is a servant of Dick," or "everything there may 
be that is loved by Tom is a servant of Dick." 

Now it is to be observed that the illative relation is not simply 
convertible; that is to say, that "from A necessarily follows B" 
does not necessarily imply that "from B necessarily follows A." 
Among the vagaries of some German logicians of some of the in- 
exact schools, the convertibility of illation (like almost every other 
imaginable absurdity) has been maintained ; but all the other in- 



THE LOGIC OF RELATIVES. 173 

exact schools deny it, and exact logic condemns it, at once. Con- 
sequently, the copula of inclusion, which is but the ergo freed from 
the accident of asserting the truth of its antecedent, is equally in- 
convertible. For though "men include only mortals," it does not 
follow that "mortals include only men," but, on the contrary, what 
follows is "mortals include all men." Consequently, again, the 
fundamental relative copula is inconvertible. That is, because 
"Tom loves (if anybody) only a servant (or servants) of Dick/' it 
does not follow that "Dick is served (if at all) only by somebody 
loved by Tom," but, on the contrary, what follows is "Dick is 
master of every person (there may be) who is loved by Tom." We 
thus see clearly, first, that, as the fundamental relative copula, we 
must take that particular mode of junction ; secondly, that that 
mode is at bottom the mode of junction of the ergo, and so joins a 
relative of antecedental character to a relative of consequental char- 
acter; and, thirdly, that that copula is inconvertible, so that the 
two kinds of constituents are of opposite characters. There are, 
no doubt, convertible modes of junction of relatives, as in "lover 
of a servant ; J but it will be shown below that these are complex 
and indirect in their constitution. 



1 Professor Schroder proposes to substitute the word "symmetry" for conver- 
tibility, and to speak of simply convertible modes of junction as "symmetrical." 
Such an example of wanton disregard of the admirable traditional terminology of 
logic, were it widely followed, would result in utter uncertainty as to what any 



Adolphus is \ his identical with what-* and whatH j-is servant of what 



is lover of what 






| Eugenia is -[-{-is identical with what ' and with what-] 

Fig. 6. 

writer on logic might mean to say, and would thus be utterly fatal to all our efforts 
to render logic exact. Professor Schroder denies that the mode of junction in 
"lover of a servant" is "symmetrical," which word in practice he makes synonym- 
ous with "commutative," applying it only to such junctions as that between 
"lover" and "servant" in "Adolphus is at once lover and servant of Eugenia." 
Commutativity depends on one or more polyadic relatives having two like blanks 
as shown in Fig. 6. 



174 THE MONIST - 

It remains to be shown that the antecedent part of a medad 
has a negative, or reversed, character, and how this, in case it be 
compound, affects both its relatives and their bonds. But since 
this matter is best studied in examples, I will first explain how I 
propose to draw the logical graphs. 

It is necessary to use, as the sign of the relative copula, some 
symbol which shall distinguish the antecedent from the consequent ; 
and since, if the antecedent is compound (owing to the very char- 
acter which I am about to demonstrate, namely, its reversing the 
characters of the relatives and the bonds it contains), it is very im- 
portant to know just how much is included in that antecedent, 
while it is a matter of comparative indifference how much is in 
eluded in the consequent (though it is simply everything not in the 
antecedent), and since further (for the same reason) it is important 
to know how many antecedents, each after the first a part of an- 
other, contain a given relative or copula, I find it best to make the 
line which joins antecedent and consequent encircle the whole of 
the former. Letters of the alphabet may be used as abbreviations 
of complete relatives ; and the proper number of bonds may be 
attached to each. If one of these is encircled, that circle must have 
a bond corresponding to each bond of the encircled letter. Chem- 
ists sometimes write above atoms Roman numerals to indicate their 
adinities ; but I do not think this necessary. Fig. 7 shows, in a com- 




vir- * 

Fig. 7- 

plete medad, my sign of the relative copula. Here, h is the monad 
" is a man," and d is the monad " is mortal." The antecedent is 
completely enclosed, and the meaning is "Anything whatever, if it 
be a man, is mortal." If the circle encloses a dyadic or polyadic rel- 
ative, it must, of course, have a tail for every bond of that relative. 
Thus, in Fig. 8, / is the dyad " loves," and it is important to re- 
mark that the bond to the left is the lover and that to the right is the 
loved. Monads are the only relatives for which we need not be at- 
tentive to the positions of attachment of the bonds. In this figure, 



THE LOGIC OF RELATIVES. 175 

w is the monad " is wise," and v is the monad " is virtuous." 
The / and v are enclosed in a large common circle. Had this not 
been done, the medad could not be read (as far as any rules yet 
given show), because it would not consist of antecedent and con- 
sequent. As it is, we begin the reading of the medad at the bond 
connecting antecedent and consequent. Every bond of a logical 
graph denotes a hecceity ; and every unencircled bond (as this one 
is) stands for any hecceity the reader may choose from the universe. 
This medad evidently refers to the universe of men. Hence the 
interpretation begins: "Let M be any man you please." We pro- 
ceed along this bond in the direction of the antecedent, and on en- 
tering the circle of the antecedent we say : "If M be." We then 
enter the inner circle. Now, entering a circle means a relation to 
every. Accordingly we add "whatever." Traversing / from left to 
right, we say "lover." (Had it been from right to left we should 
have read it "loved.") Leaving the circle is the mark of a relation 
"only to," which words we add. Coming to v we say "what is 
virtuous." Thus our antecedent reads: "Let M be any man you 
please. If M be whatever it may that is lover only to the virtu- 
ous." We now return to the consequent and read, "M is wise." 
Thus the whole means, "Whoever loves only the virtuous is wise." 
As another example, take the graph of Fig. 9, where / has the 



Fig. 9- 

same meaning as before and m is the dyad " is mother of ." 
Suppose we start with the left hand bond. We begin with saying 
"Whatever." Since cutting this bond does not sever the medad, 
we proceed at once to read the whole as an unconditional statement 
and we add to our "whatever" "there is." We can now move 
round the ring of the medad either clockwise or counter-clockwise. 
Taking the last way, we come to / from the left hand and therefore 
add "is a lover." Moving on, we enter the circle round m; and 
entering a circle is a sign that we must say "of every thing that." 
Since we pass through m backwards we do not read "is mother" 
but " is mothered " or " has for mother." Then, since we pass out 



176 THE MONIST. 

of the circle we should have to add "only"; but coming back, as 
we do, to the starting point, we need only say "that same thing." 
Thus, the interpretation is "Whatever there is, is lover of every- 
thing that has for mother that same thing," or "Every woman loves 
everything of which she is mother." Starting at the same point 
and going round the other way, the reading would be "Everybody 
is mother (if at all) only of what is loved by herself." Starting on 
the right and proceeding clockwise, " Everything is loved by every 
mother of itself." Proceeding counter-clockwise, " Everything has 
for mothers only lovers of itself." 

Triple relatives afford no particular difficulty. Thus, in Fig. 
10, w and v have the same significations as before ; r is the monad, 
" is a reward," and g is the triad " gives y to ." It can be 
read either 



Fig. 10. 

"Whatever is wise gives every reward to every virtuous person," 
or < ' Every virtuous person has every reward given to him by every- 
body that is wise," or "Every reward is given by everybody who 
is wise to every virtuous person." 

A few more examples will be instructive. Fig. n, where A is 
the proper name Alexander means "Alexander loves only the vir- 
tuous," i. e., "Take anybody you please ; then, if he be Alexander 
and if he loves anybody, this latter is virtuous. " 



Fig. ii. Fig. 12. Fig. 13. 

If you attempt, in reading this medad, to start to the right of 
/, you fall into difficulty, because your antecedent does not then 
consist of an antecedent and consequent, but of two circles joined 
by a bond, a combination to be considered below. But Fig. 12 may 
be read with equal ease on whichever side of / you begin, whether 
as "whoever is wise loves everybody that is virtuous," or "who- 
ever is virtuous is loved by everybody that is wise." If in Fig. 13 



THE LOGIC OF RELATIVES. 177 

-b- be the dyad " is a benefactor of ," the medad reads, "Alex- 
ander stands only to virtuous persons in the relation of loving only 
their benefactors." 

Fig. 14, where -s- is the dyad " is a servant of " may be 
read, according to the above principles, in the several ways fol- 
lowing : 

"Whoever stands to any person in the relation of lover to none 
but his servants benefits him." 

" Every person stands only to a person benefited by him in 
the relation of a lover only of a servant of that person." 





Fig. 14. Fig. 15. 

"Every person, M, is benefactor of everybody who stands to 
M in the relation of being served by everybody loved by him." 

"Every person, N, is benefited by everybody who stands to N 
in the relation of loving only servants of him." 

"Every person, N, stands only to a benefactor of N in the re- 
lation of being served by everybody loved by him." 

"Take any two persons, M and N. If, then, N is served by 
every lover of M, N is benefited by M." 

Fig. 15 represents a medad which means, " Every servant of 
any person, is a benefactor of whomever may be loved by that per- 
son." Equivalent statements easily read off from the graphs are 
as follows : 

"Anybody, M, no matter who, is servant (if at all) only of some : 
body who loves (if at all) only persons benefited by M." 

"Anybody, no matter who, stands to every master of him in 
the relation of benefactor of whatever person may be loved by him." 

"Anybody, no matter who, stands to whoever loves him in the 
relation of being benefited by whatever servant he may have." 

"Anybody, N, is loved (if at all) only by a person who is served 
(if at all) only by benefactors of N." 

"Anybody, no matter who, loves (if at all) only persons bene- 
fited by all servants of his." 






178 THE MONIST. 

"Anybody, no matter who, is served (if at all) only by bene- 
factors of everybody loved by him." 

I will now give an example containing triadic relatives, but no 
monads. Let / be " prevents from communicating with ," 
the second blank being represented by a bond from the right of / 
and the third by a bond from below/. Let ft mean " would be- 
tray to ," the arrangement of bonds being the same as with/. 
Then, Fig. 1 6 means that "whoever loves only persons who pre- 




Fig. 16. 

vent every servant of any person, A, from communicating with any 
person, B, would betray B to A. " I will only notice one equivalent 
statement, viz.: " Take any three persons, A, B, C, no matter who. 
Then, either C betrays B to A, or else two persons, M and N, can 
be found, such that M does not prevent N from communicating 
with B, although M is loved by C and N is a servant of A." 

This last interpretation is an example of the method which is, 
by far, the plainest and most unmistakable of any in complicated 
cases. The rule for producing it is as follows : 

1. Assign a letter of the alphabet to denote the hecceity repre- 
sented by each bond. 1 

2. Begin by saying : "Take any things you please, namely," 
and name the letters representing bonds not encircled ; then add, 
"Then suitably select objects, namely," and name the letters rep- 
resenting bonds each once encircled; then add, "Then take any 
things you please, namely," and name the letters representing 
bonds each twice encircled. Proceed in this way until all the letters 



1 In my method of graphs, the spots represent the relatives, their bonds the 
hecceities ; while in Mr. Kempe's method, the spots represent the objects, whether 
individuals or abstract ideas, while their bonds represent the relations. Hence, 
my own exclusive employment of bonds between pairs of spots does not, in the 
least, conflict with my argument that in Mr. Kempe's method such bonds are in- 
sufficient. 



THE LOGIC OF RELATIVES. 179 

representing bonds have been named, no letter being named until 
all those encircled fewer times have been named ; and each hecce- 
ity corresponding to a letter encircled odd times is to be suitably 
chosen according to the intent of the assertor of the medad propo- 
sition, while each hecceity corresponding to a bond encircled even 
times is to be taken as the interpreter or the opponent of the prop- 
osition pleases. 

3. Declare that you are about to make statements concerning 
certain propositions, to which, for the sake of convenience, you 
will assign numbers in advance of enunciating them or stating 
their relations to one another. These numbers are to be formed in 
the following way. There is to be a number for each letter of the 
medad (that is for those which form spots of the graph, not for the 
letters assigned by clause i of this rule to the bonds), and also a 
number for each circle round more than one letter ; and the first 
figure of that number is to be a i or a 2, according as the letter or 
the circle is in the principal antecedent or the principal consequent ; 
the second figure is to be i or 2, according as the letter or the circle 
belongs to the antecedent or the consequent of the principal ante- 
cedent or consequent, and so on. 

Declare that one or other of those propositions whose numbers 
contain no i before the last figure is true. Declare that each of 
those propositions whose numbers contain an odd number of I's 
before the last figure consists in the assertion that some one or an- 
other of the propositions whose numbers commence with its num- 
ber is true. For example, 1 1 consists in the assertion that either 
in or 1 1 21 or 1 1 22 is true, supposing that these are the only prop- 
ositions whose numbers commence with u. Declare that each of 
those propositions whose numbers contain an even number of I's 
(or none) before the last figure consists in the assertion that every 
one of the propositions whose numbers commence with its number 
is true. Thus, 12 consists in the assertion that 121, 1221, 1222 
are all true, provided those are the only propositions whose numbers 
commence with 12. The process described in this clause will be 
abridged except in excessively complicated cases. 

4. Finally, you are to enunciate all those numbered proposi- 



l8o THE MONIST. 

tions which correspond to single letters. Namely, each proposition 
whose number contains an even number of I's, will consist in affirm- 
ing the relative of the spot-letter to which that number corresponds 
after filling each blank with that bond-letter which by clause i of this 
rule was assigned to the bond at that blank. But if the number of 
the proposition contains an odd number of I's, the relative, with 
its blanks filled in the same way, is to be denied. 

In order to illustrate this rule, I will restate the meanings of 
the medads of Figs. 7-16, in all the formality of the rule ; although 
such formality is uncalled for and awkward, except in far more 
complicated cases. 

Fig. 7. Let A be anything you please. There are two prop- 
ositions, i and 2, one of which is true. Proposition i is, that A is 
not a man. Proposition 2 is, that A is mortal. More simply, 
Whatever A may be, either A is not a man or A is mortal. 

Fig. 8. Let A be anybody you please. Then, I will find a 
person, B, so that either proposition i or proposition 2 shall be 
true. Proposition i asserts that both propositions n and 12 are 
true. Proposition n is that A loves B. Proposition 12 is that B 
is not virtuous. Proposition 2 is that A is wise. More simply, 
Take anybody, A, you please. Then, either A is wise, or else a 
person, B, can be found such that B is not virtuous and A loves B. 

Fig. 9. Let A and B be any persons you please. Then, 
either proposition i or proposition 2 is true. Proposition i is that 
A is not a mother of B. Proposition 2 is that A loves B. More 
simply, whatever two persons A and B may be, either A is not a 
mother of B or A loves B. 

Fig. 10. Let A, B, C be any three things you please. Then, 
one of the propositions numbered, i, 21, 221, 222 is true. Propo- 
sition i is that A is not wise. Proposition 21 is that B is not a 
reward. Proposition 221 is that C is not virtuous. Proposition 
222 is that A gives B to C. More simply, take any three things, 
A, B, C, you please. Then, either A is not wise, or B is not a re- 
ward, or C is not virtuous, or A gives B to C. 

Fig. ii. Take any two persons, A and B, you please. Then, 
one of the propositions i, 21, 22 is true, i is that A is not Alex- 



THE LOGIC OF RELATIVES. l8l 

ander. 21 is that A does not love B. Proposition 3 is that B is 
virtuous. 

Fig. 12. Take any two persons, A and B. Then, one of the 
propositions i, 21, 22 is true, i is that A is not wise. 21 is that 
B is not virtuous. 22 is that A loves B. 

Fig. 13. Take any two persons, A and C. Then a person, 
B can be found such that one of the propositions i, 21, 22 is true. 
Proposition 21 asserts that both 211 and 212 are true. Proposition 
i that A is not Alexander. Proposition 211 is that A loves B. Prop- 
osition 212 is that B does not benefit C. Proposition 22 is that C 
is virtuous. More simply, taking any two persons, A and C, either 
A is not Alexander, or C is virtuous, or there is some person, B, 
who is loved by A without benefiting C. 

Fig. 14. Take any two persons, A and B, and I will then se- 
lect a person C. Either proposition i or proposition 2 is true. 
Proposition i is that both n and 12 are true. Proposition n is 
that A loves C. Proposition 12 is that C is not a servant of B. 
Proposition 2 is that A benefits B. More simply, of any two per- 
sons, A and B, either A benefits the other, B, or else there is a 
person, C, who is loved by A but is not a servant of B. 

Fig. 15. Take any three persons, A, B, C. Then one of the 
propositions i, 21, 22 is true, i is that A is not a servant of B ; 
21 is that B is not a lover of C ; 22 is that A benefits C. 

Fig. 1 6. Take any three persons, A, B, C. Then I can so se- 
lect D and E, that one of the propositions i or 2 is true, i is that 
ii and 121 and 122 are all true, n is that A loves D, 121 is that 
E is a servant of C, 122 is that D does not prevent E from com- 
municating with B. 2 is that A betrays B to C. 

I have preferred to give these examples rather than fill my 
pages with a dry abstract demonstration of the correctness of the 
rule. If the reader requires such a proof, he can easily construct it. 
This rule makes evident the reversing effect of the encirclements, 
not only upon the " quality " of the relatives as affirmative or nega- 
tive, but also upon the selection of the hecceities as performable 
by advocate or opponent of the proposition, as well as upon the 
conjunctions of the propositions as disjunctive or conjunctive, or 



l82 THE MONIST. 

(to avoid this absurd grammatical terminology) as alternative or 
simultaneous. 

It is a curious example of the degree to which the thoughts of 
logicians have been tied down to the accidents of the particular 
language they happened to write (mostly Latin), that while they 
hold it for an axiom that two nots annul one another, it was left for 
me to say as late as 1867* that some in formal logic ought to be un- 
derstood, and could be understood, so that some-some should mean 
any. I suppose that were ordinary speech of any authority as to 
the forms of logic, in the overwhelming majority of human tongues 
two negatives intensify one another. And it is plain that if "not" 
be conceived as less than anything, what is less than that is a fortiori 
not. On the other hand, although some is conceived in our lan- 
guages as more than none t so that two "somes " intensify one another, 
yet what it ought to signify for the purposes of syllogistic is that, 
instead of the selection of the instance being left, as it is, when 
we say "any man is not good," to the opponent of the proposi- 
tion, when we say "some man is not good," this selection is trans- 
ferred to the opponent's opponent, that is to the defender of the 
proposition. Repeat the some, and the selection goes to the op- 
ponent's opponent's opponent, that is, to the opponent again, and 
it becomes equivalent to any. In more formal statement, to say 
"Everyman is mortal," or "Any man is mortal," is to say, "A 
man, as suitable as any to prove the proposition false, is mortal," 
while "Some man is mortal" is equivalent to "A man, as suitable 
as any to prove the proposition not false, is mortal." "Some-some 
man is mortal" is accordingly "A man, as suitable as any to prove 
the proposition not not-i alse, is mortal. " 

In like manner, encircled 2N-f- i times, a disjunctive conjunc- 
tion of propositions becomes a copulative conjunction. Here, the 
case is altogether similar. Encircled even times, the statement is 
that some one (or more) of the propositions is true ; encircled odd 
times, the statement is that any one of the propositions is true. 



1 " On the Natural Classification of Arguments. " Proceedings of the American 
Academy of Arts and Sciences. 



THE LOGIC OF RELATIVES. 183 

The negative of "lover of every servant " is "non-lover of some 
servant." The negative of "lover every way (that it is a lover) of 
a servant" is "lover some way of a non-servant." 

The general nature of a relative and of a medad has now been 
made clear. At any rate, it will become so, if the reader carefully 
goes through with the explanations. We have not, however, as 
yet shown how every kind of proposition can be graphically ex- 
pressed, nor under what conditions a medad is necessarily true. 
For that purpose it will be necessary to study certain special logical 
relatives. 

5. Triads the primitive relatives. That out of triads all poly- 
ads can be constructed is made plain by Fig. 17. 



Fig. 17. 

Fig. 18 shows that from two triads a dyad can be made. Fig. 
19 shows that from one triad a monad can be made. Fig. 20 shows 





that from any even number of triads a medad can be made. In 
general, the union of a jw-ad and a f-ad gives a Ow-}-* 2A)-ad, 
where A is the number of bonds of union. This formula shows that 
artiads, or even-ads, can produce only artiads. But any perissid, 
or odd-ad (except a monad), can by repetition produce a relative pf 
any adinity. 

Since the principal object of a notation for relatives is not to 
produce a handy calculus for the solution of special logical prob- 
lems, but to help the study of logical principles, the study of log- 
ical graphs from that point of view must be postponed to a future 
occasion. For present purposes that notation is best which car- 
ries analysis the furthest, and presents the smallest number of 
unanalyzed forms. It will be best, then, to use single letters for 
relatives of some one definite and odd number of blanks. We 



184 THE MONIST. 

naturally choose three as the smallest number which will answer 
the purpose. 

We shall, therefore, substitute for such a dyad as " is lover 
of some such triad as " is coexistent with i and a lover of ." 
If, then, we make w to signify " is coexistent with | and with 
," that which we have hitherto written as in Fig. 12 will be writ- 
ten as in Fig. 21. But having once recognised that such a mode 




of writing is possible, we can continue to use our former methods, 
provided we now consider them as abbreviations. 

The logical doctrine of this section, must, we may remark, find 
its application in metaphysics, if we are to accept the Kantian 
principle that metaphysical conceptions mirror those of formal 
logic. 

6. Relatives of Second Intention. The general method of graph- 
ical representation of propositions has now been given in all its es- 
sential elements, except, of course, that we have not, as yet, stud- 
ied any truths concerning special relatives ; for to do so would 
seem, at first, to be "extralogical." Logic in this stage of its de- 
velopment may be called paradisaical logic, because it represents 
the state of Man's cognition before the Fall. For although, with 
this apparatus, it is easy to write propositions necessarily true, it 
is absolutely impossible to write any which is necessarily false, or, 
in any way which that stage of logic affords, to find out that any- 
thing is false. The mind has not as yet eaten of the fruit of the 
Tree of Knowledge of Truth and Falsity. Probably it will not be 
doubted that every child in its mental development necessarily 
passes through a stage in which he has some ideas, but yet has 
never recognised that an idea may be erroneous ; and a stage that 
every child necessarily passes through must have been formerly 
passed through by the race in its adult development. It may be 
doubted whether many of the lower animals have any clear and 



THE LOGIC OF RELATIVES. 185 

steady conception of falsehood ; for their instincts work so un- 
erringly that there is little to force it upon their attention. Yet 
plainly without a knowledge of falsehood no development of dis- 
cursive reason can take place. 

This paradisaical logic appears in the study of non-relative 
formal logic. But there no possible avenue appears by which the 
knowledge of falsehood could be brought into this Garden of Eden 
except by the arbitrary and inexplicable introduction of the Serpent 
in the guise of a proposition necessarily false. The logic of rela- 
tives, affords such an avenue, and that, the very avenue by which 
in actual development, this stage of logic supervenes. It is the 
avenue of experience and logical reflexion. 

By logical reflexion, I mean the observation of thoughts in 
their expressions. Aquinas remarked that this sort of reflexion is 
requisite to furnish us with those ideas which, from lack of con- 
trast, ordinary external experience fails to bring into prominence. 
He called such ideas second intentions. It is by means of relatives 
of second intention that the general method of logical representation 
is to find completion. 

Let K< signify that is -j JJ^f r ~~~. " Then Fig. 22 means 




Fig. 22. Fig. 23. Fig. 24. 

that taking any two things whatever, either the one is neither itself 
nor the other (putting it out of the question as an absurdity), o'r 
the other is a non-giver of something to that thing. That is, noth- 
ing gives all things, each to itself. Thus, the existence of any gen- 




Fig. 25. 

eral description of thing can be denied. Either medad of Fig. 23 
means no wise men are virtuous. Fig. 24 is equivalent to Fig. 7. 
Fig. 25 means " each wise man is a lover of something virtuous." 



1 86 



THE MONIST. 



Thus we see that this mode of junction, lover of some virtuous, 
which seems so simple, is really complex. Fig. 26 means "some 




Fig. 26. 



one thing is loved by all wise men." Fig. 27 means that every 
man is either wise or virtuous. Fig. 28 means that every man is 
both wise and virtuous. 





Fig. 27. 



Fig. 28. 



These explanations need not be carried further to show that 
we have here a perfectly efficient and highly analytical method of 
representing relations. 

7. The Algebra of Dyadic Relatives. Although the primitive 
relatives are triadic, yet they may be represented with but little 
violence by means of dyadic relatives, provided we allow several 
attachments to one blank. For instance, A gives B to C, may be 
represented by saying A is the first party in the transaction D, B is 
subject of D, C is second party of D, D is a giving by the first party 
of the subject to the second party. Triadic relatives cannot con- 
veniently be represented on one line of writing. These considera- 
tions led me to invent the algebra of dyadic relatives as a tolerably 
convenient substitute in many cases for the graphical method of 
representation. In place of the one "operation," or mode of con- 
junction of graphical method, there are in this algebra four opera- 
tions. 

For the purpose of this algebra, I entirely discard the idea 
that every compound relative consists of an antecedent and a con- 
sequent part. I consider the circle round the antecedent as a mere 
sign of negation, for which in the algebra I substitute an obelus over 
that antecedent. The line between antecedent and consequent, I 



THE LOGIC OF RELATIVES. 187 

treat as a sign of an " operation" by itself. It signifies that any- 
thing whatever being taken as correlate of the first written mem- 
ber, antecedent or consequent, and as first relate of the second 
written member, either the one or the other is to be accepted. Thus 
in place of the relative of Fig. 29 signifying that " taking anything 
whatever, M, either is not a lover of M, or M is a benefactor of 
," that is " is a lover only of a benefactor of ," I write 

r$*. 

Or if it happens to be read the other way, putting a short mark 
over any letters to signify that relate and correlate are interchanged, 
I write the same thing 

M/. 

This operation, which may, at need, be denoted by a dagger 
in print, to which I give a scorpion-tail curve in its cursive form, I 
call relative addition. 

The relative " stands to everything which is a benefactor of 
in the relation of servant of every lover of his/' shows, 





as written in Fig. 30, an unencircled bond between s and /. The 
junction of the / and the b may therefore be regarded as direct. 
Stating the relative so as to make this direct junction prominent, it 
is " is servant of everything that is a lover of a benefactor of ." 
In the algebra, as far as already explained, "lover of a benefac- 
tor" would be written 



that is, not a non-lover of every benefactor, or not a lover only of 
non-benefactors. This mode of junction, I call, in the algebra, 
the operation of relative multiplication, and write it 

Ib. 
We have, then, the purely formal, or meaningless, equation 

ib-T$S. 

And in like manner, as a consequence of this, 






1 88 THE MONIST. 

That is to say, "To say that A is a lover of everything but bene- 
factors of B," or "A is a non-lover only of benefactors of B," is the 
same as to say that A is not a non-lover of a non-benefactor of B. 
To express in the algebra the relative of Fig. 31 



Fig. 31- 

or " is both a lover and a benefactor of ," I write 

I'b, 

calling this "the operation of non-relative multiplication" To ex- 
press " is either a lover or a benefactor of ," which might be 
written 

rr, 

I write 



calling this the operation of non-relative addition, or more accurately, 
of aggregation. These last two operations belong to the Boolian 
algebra of non-relative logic. They are De Morgan's operations 
of composition and aggregation. Boole himself did not use the 
last, but in place of it an operation more properly termed addition 
which gives no interpretable result when the aggregants have any 
common aggregant. Mr. Venn still holds out for Boole's operation, 
and there are weighty considerations in its favor. In my opinion, 
the decision between the two operations should depend upon 
whether the quantified predicate is rejected (when aggregation 
should be used), or accepted (when Boole's strict addition should 
be used). 

The use of these four operations necessitates continual resort 
to parentheses, brackets, and braces to show how far the different 
compound relatives extend. It also becomes desirable to have a 
"copula of inclusion," or the sign of "is exclusively (if anything)." 
For this purpose I have since 1870 employed the sign < (intended 
for an improved <). It is easily made in the composing room 
from a dash followed by < , and in its cursive form is struck off in 



THE LOGIC OF RELATIVES. 1 89 

two rapid strokes, thus^. Its meaning is exemplified in the for- 

mula 

w*<v 

"anybody who is wise (if any there be) is exclusively found among 
the virtuous." We also require in this algebra the signs of relatives 
of second intention 

0, " is inconsistent with ," P , " is coexistent with ," 

T, " is other than ," I, " is identical with." 

The algebra has a moderate amount of power in skilful hands ; 
but its great defect is the vast multitude of purely formal proposi- 
tions which it brings along. The most significant of these are 



and 



That is, whatever is a servant of something which is a lover of 
everything but benefactors is a servant-of-a-lover to everything but 
benefactors, etc. 

Professor Schroder attaches, as it seems to me, too high a value 
to this algebra. That which is in his eyes the greatest recommenda- 
tion of it is to me scarcely a merit, namely that it enables us to ex- 
press in the outward guise of an equation propositions whose real 
meaning is much simpler than that of an equation. 

8. General algebra of logic. Besides the algebra just de- 
scribed, I have invented another which seems to me much more 
valuable. It expresses with the utmost facility everything which 
can be expressed by a graph, and frequently much more clearly 
than the unabridged graphs described above. The method of using 
it in the solution of special problems has also been fully developed 
by me. 

In this algebra every proposition consists of two parts, its 
quantifiers and its Boolian. The Boolian consists of a number of 
relatives united by a non-relative multiplication and aggregation. 
No relative operations are required (though they can be introduced 
if desired). Each elementary relative is represented by a letter on 
the line of writing with subjacent indices to denote the hecceities 



igo THE MONIST. 

which fill its blanks. An obelus is drawn over such a relative to 
deny it. 

To the left of the Boolian are written the quantifiers. Each of 
these is a n or a 2 with one of the indices written subjacent to it, 
to signify that in the Boolian every object in the universe is to be 
imaged substituted successively for that index and the non-relative 
product (if the quantifier is II ) or the aggregate (if the quantifier 
is 2) of the results taken. The order of the quantifiers is, of course, 
material. Thus 



will mean anything loves something. But 



etc. ^ etc. 

will mean something is loved by all things. 

This algebra, which has but two operations, and those easily 
manageable, is, in my opinion, the most convenient apparatus for 
the study of difficult logical problems, although the graphical 
method is capable of such modification as to render it substan- 
tially as convenient on the average. Nor would I refuse to avail 
myself of the algebra of dyadic relatives in the simpler cases in 
which it is easily handled. 

9. Method of Calculating with the General Algebra. My rules 
for working this algebra, the fruit of long experience with applying 
it to a great variety of genuine inquiries, have never been pub- 
lished. Nor can I here do more than state such as the beginner 
will be likely to require. 

A number of premises being given, it is required to know the 
most important conclusions of a certain description which can be 
drawn from them. The first step will be to express the premises 
by means of the general algebra, taking care to use entirely differ- 
ent letters as indices in the different premises. 

These premises are then to be copulated (or, in Whewell's 
phrase, colligated), i. e., non-relatively multiplied together, by 
multiplying their Boolians and writing before the product all the 
quantifiers. The relative order of the quantifiers of each premise 



THE LOGIC OF RELATIVES. IQI 

must (in general) be undisturbed ; but the relative order of quanti- 
fiers of different premises is arbitrary. The student ought to place 
S's as far to the left and II 's as far to the right as possible. Dif- 
ferent arrangements of the quantifiers will lead to different conclu- 
sions from the premises. It sometimes happens that each of sev- 
eral arrangements leads to a conclusion which could not easily be 
reached from any other arrangement. 

The premises, being so copulated, become one copulated prem- 
ise. This copulated premise is next to be logically multiplied into 
itself any number of times, the indices being different in all the dif- 
ferent factors. For there will be certain conclusions which I call 
conclusions of the first order, which can be drawn from the copu- 
lated premise without such involution, certain others, which I call 
inferences of the second order, which can be drawn from its square, 
etc. But after involution has been carried to a certain point, higher 
powers will only lead to inferences of subsidiary importance. The 
student will get a just idea of this matter by considering the rise 
and decline of interest in the theorems of any mathematical theory, 
such as geometry or the theory of numbers, as the fundamental 
hypotheses are applied more and more times in the demonstra- 
tions. The number of factors in the copulated premise, which 
embraces all the hypotheses that either theory assumes, is not great. 
Yet from this premise many thousand conclusions have already 
been drawn in the case of geometry and hundreds in the case of the 
theory of numbers. New conclusions are now coming in faster than 
ever before. From the nature of logic they can never be ex- 
hausted. But as time goes on the conclusions become more special 
and less important. It is true that mathematics, as a whole, does 
not become more special nor its late discoveries less important, be- 
cause there is a growth of the hypotheses. Up to a certain degree, 
the importance of the conclusions increases with their "order." 
Thus, in geometry, there is nothing worth mention of the first or- 
der, and hardly of the second. But there is a great falling off in 
the importance of conclusions in the theories mentioned long be- 
fore the fiftieth order has been reached. 

This involution having been performed, the next step will be 



IQ2 THE MONIST. 

the identification (occasionally the diversification) of certain in- 
dices. The rule is, that any index quantified with a II can be trans- 
mitted, throughout the Boolian, into any other index whose quan- 
tifier stands to the left of its own, which now becomes useless, since 
it refers to nothing in the Boolian. For example, in 

s/ n, i fj 

which in the Algebra of Dyadic Relatives would be written ^(/^ 0), 
we can identify ^ with * and write 

S/ 4- 
which in the other algebra becomes <*>(/ !)<*>. 

That done, the Boolian is to be manipulated according to any 
of the methods of non-relative Boolian algebra, and the conclusion 
is read off. 

But it is only in the simplest cases that the above operations 
suffice. Relatives of second intention will often have to be intro- 
duced ; and their peculiar properties must be attended to. Those 
of and <*> are covered by the rules of non-relative Boolian alge- 
bra ; but it is not so with I and T. We have, for example, to ob- 
serve that 



Exceedingly important are the relatives signifying " is a qual- 
ity of " and " is a relation of to ." It may be said that 
mathematical reasoning (which is the only deductive reasoning, if 
not absolutely, at least eminently) almost entirely turns on the con- 
sideration of abstractions as if they were objects. The protest of 
nominalism against such hypostatisation, although, if it knew how 
to formulate itself, it would be justified as against much of the 
empty disputation of the medieval Dunces, yet, as it was and is 
formulated, is simply a protest against the only kind of thinking 
that has ever advanced human culture. Nobody will work long 
with the logic of relatives, unless he restricts the problems of his 
studies very much, without seeing that this is true. 

10. Schroder's Conception of Logical Problems.. Of my own 
labors in the logic of relatives since my last publication in 1884, I 
intend to give a slight hint in 13. But I desire to give some idea 



THE LOGIC OF RELATIVES. IQ3 

of a part of the contents of Schroder's last volume. In doing so, I 
shall adhere to my own notation ; for I cannot accept Professor 
Schroder's proposed innovations. I shall give my reasons in detail 
for this dissent in the Bulletin of the American Mathematical Society. 
I will here only indicate their general nature. I have no objection 
whatever to the creation of a new system of signs ab ovo, if any- 
body can propose such a system sufficiently recommending itself. 
But that Professor Schroder does not attempt. He wishes his no- 
tation to have the support of existing habits and conventions, while 
proposing a measure of reform in the present usage. For that he 
must obtain general consent. Now it seems to me quite certain that 
no such general agreement can be obtained without the strictest 
deference to the principle of priority. Without that, new notations 
can only lead to confusion thrice confounded. The experience of 
biologists in regard to the nomenclature of their genera and other 
groups shows that this is so. I believe that their experience shows 
that the only way to secure uniformity in regard to conventions of this 
sort, is to accept for each operation and relative the sign definitively 
recommended by the person who introduced that operation or rela- 
tive into the Boolian algebra, unless there are the most substantial 
reasons for dissatisfaction with the meaning of the sign. Objections 
of lesser magnitude may justify slight modifications of signs ; as 
I modify Jevons's -|- to 4*, by uniting the two dots by a connect- 
ing line, and as I so far yield to Schroder's objections to using ex 
for the sign of whatever is, as to resort to the similarly shaped sign 
of Aries P (especially as a notation of some power is obtained by 
using all the signs of the Zodiac in the same sense, as I shall show 
elsewhere). In my opinion, Professor Schroder alleges no sufficient 
reason for a single one of his innovations ; and I further consider 
them as positively objectionable. 

The volume consists of thirty-one long sections filling six hun- 
dred and fifty pages. I can, therefore, not attempt to do more 
than to exemplify its contents by specimens of the work selected as 
particularly interesting. Professor Schroder chiefly occupies him- 
self with what he calls "solution-problems," in which it is required 
to deduce from a given proposition an equation of which one mem- 



194 THE 

ber consists in a certain relative determined in advance, while the 
other member shall not contain that relative. He rightly remarks 
that such problems often involve problems of elimination. 

While I am not at all disposed to deny that the so-called "so- 
lution-problems," consisting in the ascertainment of the general 
forms of relatives which satisfy given conditions, are often of con- 
siderable importance, I cannot admit that the interest of logical 
study centres in them. I hold that it is usually much more to the 
purpose to express in the simplest way what a given premise dis- 
closes in regard to the constitution of a relative, whether that sim- 
plest expression is of the nature of an equation or not. Thus, one 
of Schroder's problems is, "Given x^a, required x," for in- 
stance, knowing that an opossum is a marsupial, give a description 
of the opossum. The so-called solution is ^ = xu-a, or opossums 
embrace precisely what is common to marsupials and to some other 
class. In my judgment x<*<a might with great propriety be called 
the solution of 2, = xu'a. When the information contained in a 

u 

proposition is not of the nature of an equation, why should we, by 
circumlocutions, insist upon expressing it in the form of an equa- 
tion ? 

Professor Schroder attaches great importance to the generality 
of solutions. In my opinion, this is a mistake. It is not merely 
that he insists that solutions shall be complete, as for example when 
we require every root of a numerical equation, but further that they 
shall all be embraced under one algebraical expression. Upon that 
he insists and with that he is satisfied. Whether or not the "so- 
lution" is such as to exhibit anything of the real constitution of the 
relative which forms the first member of the equation he does not 
seem to care ; at least, there is no apparent consideration of the 
question of how such a result can be secured. 

Pure mathematics always selects for the subjects of its studies 
manifolds of perfect homogeneity; and thence it comes that for the 
problems which first present themselves general solutions are pos- 
sible, which notwithstanding their generality, guide us at once to 
all the particular solutions. But even in pure mathematics the 
class of problems which are capable of solutions at once general 



THE LOGIC OF RELATIVES. 1 95 

and useful is an exceedingly limited one. All others have to be 
treated by subdivision of cases. That is what meets us everywhere 
in higher algebra. As for general solutions, they are for the most 
part trivial, like the well-known and obvious test for a prime 
number that the continued product of all lesser numbers increased 
by i shall be divisible by that number. Only in those cases in 
which a general solution points the way to the particular solutions 
is it valuable ; for it is only the particular solutions which picture 
to the mind the solution of a problem ; and a form of words which 
fails to produce a definite picture in the mind is meaningless. 

Professor Schroder endeavors to give the most general formula 
of a logical problem. It is in dealing with such very general and 
fundamental matters that the exact logician is most in danger of 
violating his own principles of exactitude. To seek a formula for 
all logical problems is to ask what it is, in general terms, that men 
inquire. To answer that question, my own logical proceeding would 
be to note that it asks what the essence of a question, in general, 
is. Now a question is a rational contrivance or device, and in order 
to understand any rational contrivance, experience shows that the 
best way is to begin by considering what circumstances of need 
prompted the contrivance, and then upon what general principle 
its action is designed to fill that need. Applying this general ex- 
perience to the case before us, we remark that every question is 
prompted by some need, that is, by some unsatisfactory condition 
of things, and that the object of asking the question is to fill that 
need by bringing reason to bear upon it and to do this by a hypnot- 
ically suggestive indication of that to which the mind has to apply 
itself. I do not know that I have ever, before this minute, consid- 
ered the question what is the most general formulation- of a prob- 
lem in general ; for I do not find much virtue in general formulae. 
Nor do I think my answer to this question affords any particularly 
precious suggestion. But its ordinary character makes it all the 
better an illustration of the manner or one of the manners in 
which an exact logician may attack, off-hand, a suddenly sprung 
question. A question, I say, is an indication suggestive (in the 
hypnotic sense) of what has to be thought about in order to satisfy 



196 THE MONIST. 

some more or less pressing want. Ideas like those of this state- 
ment, and not talk about (px, and " roots," and the like, must, in my 
opinion, form the staple of a logical analysis and useful description 
of a problem, in general. I am none the less a mathematical logi- 
cian for that. If of two students of the theory of numbers one 
should insist upon considering numbers as expressed in a system 
of notation like the Arabic (though using now one number as base 
of the numeration, and now another), while the other student should 
maintain that all that was foreign to the theory of numbers, which 
ought not to consider upon what system the numbers with which it 
deals are expressed, those two students would, to my apprehen- 
sion, occupy positions analogous to that of Schroder and mine in 
regard to this matter of the formulation of the problems of logic ; 
and supposing the student who wished to consider the forms of ex- 
pression of numbers were to accuse the other of being wanting in 
the spirit of an arithmetician, that charge would be unjust in quite 
the same way in which it would be unjust to charge me with defi- 
ciency in the mathematical spirit on account of my regarding the 
conceptions of " values," and " roots," and all that as very special 
ideas, which can only lumber up the field of consciousness with 
such hindrances as it is the very end and aim of that diagrammatic 
method of thinking that characterises the mathematician to get 
rid of. 

But different questions are so very unlike that the only way to 
get much idea of the nature of a problem is to consider the differ- 
ent cases separately. There are in the first place questions about 
needs and their fulfillment which are not directly affected by the 
asking of the questions. A very good example is a chess problem. 
You have only to experiment in the imagination just as you would 
do on the board if it were permitted to touch the men, and if your 
experiments are intelligently conducted and are carried far enough, 
the solution required must be discovered. In other cases, the need 
to which the question relates is nothing but the intellectual need of 
having that question answered. It may happen that questions of 
this kind can likewise be answered by imaginary experimentation ; 
but the more usual case requires real experimentation. The need 



THE LOGIC OF RELATIVES. 1 97 

is of one or other of two kinds. In the one class of cases we ex- 
perience on several occasions to which our own deliberate action 
gave a common character, an excitation of one and the same novel 
idea or sensation, and the need is that a large number of proposi- 
tions having the same novel consequent but different antecedents, 
should be replaced by one proposition which brings in the novel 
element, so that the others shall appear as mere consequences of 
every day facts with a single novel one. We may express this in- 
tellectual need in a brief phrase as the need of synthetising a multi- 
tude of subjects. It is the need of generalisation. In another class of 
cases, we find in some new thing, or new situation, a great number 
of characters, the same as would naturally present themselves as 
consequences of a hypothetical state of things, and the need is that 
the large number of novel propositions with one subject or ante- 
cedent should be replaced by a single novel proposition, namely 
that the new thing or new occasion belongs to the hypothetical 
class, from which all those other novelties shall follow as mere 
consequences of matters of course. This intellectual need, briefly 
stated, is the need of synthetising a multitude of predicates. It is 
the need of theory. Every problem, then, is either a problem of 
consequences, a problem of generalisation, or a problem of theory. 
This statement illustrates how special solutions are the only ones 
which directly mean anything or embody any knowledge ; and gen- 
eral solutions are only useful when they happen to suggest what 
the special solutions will be. 

Professor Schroder entertains very different ideas upon these 
matters. The general problem, according to him, is, " Given the 
proposition F# = 0, required the 'value' of # ," that is, an ex- 
pression not containing x which can be equated to x. This 'value' 
must be the "general root," that is, it must, under one general de- 
scription, cover every possible object which fulfils a given condi- 
tion. This, by the way, is the simplest explanation of what Schro- 
der means by a "solution-problem"; it is the problem to find that 
form of relative which necessarily fulfils a given condition and in 
which every relative that fulfils that condition can be expressed. 
Schroder shows that the solution of such a problem can be put into 



198 THE MONIST. 

the form 2 t [x=fu~\, which means that a suitable logical function 

u 

(/) of any relative, u, no matter what, will satisfy the condition 
F# = 0; and that nothing which is not equivalent to such a func- 
tion will satisfy that condition. He further shows, what is very 
significant, that the solution maybe required to satisfy the "ad- 
ventitious condition" fx = x. This fact about the adventitious 
condition is all that prevents me from rating the value of the whole 
discussion as far from high. 

Professor Schroder next produces what he calls "the rigorous 
solution" of the general question. This promises something very 
fine, the rigorously correct resolution of everything that ever could 
(but for this knowledge) puzzle the human mind. It is true that it 
supposes that a particular relative has been found which shall sa- 
tisfy the condition F.# = 0. But that is seldom difficult to find. 
Either 0, or <*>, O r some other trivial solution commonly offers itself. 
Supposing, then, that a be this particular solution, that is, that 
F0 = 0, the "rigorous solution" is 



That is, it is such a function of // that when u satisfies the condition 
'Fu = Q,fu = u; but when u does not satisfy this condition fu = a. 
Now Fa = 0. 

Since Professor Schroder carries his algebraicity so very far, 
and talks of "roots," "values," "solutions," etc., when, even in 
my opinion, with my bias towards algebra, such phrases are out of 
place, let us see how this "rigorous solution" would stand the cli- 
mate of numerical algebra. What should we say of a man who pro- 
fessed to give rigorous general solutions of algebraic equations of 
every degree (a problem included, of course, under Professor Schro- 
der's general problem)? Take the equation #* -f- A #* -f B .s 8 -f C # 2 + 
D^-f-E = 0. Multiplying by x a we get 
* 6 H-(A 0)#5 + (B A)#*-f (C tfB)*3-f(D aC)x 2 -\-(E 0D) 

X 0E=:0 

The roots of this equation are precisely the same as those of the 
proposed quintic together with the additional root x = a. Hence, 
if we solve the sectic we thereby solve the quintic. Now, our 



THE LOGIC OF RELATIVES. 1 99 

Schroderian solver would say, "There is a certain function, fu, 
every value of which, no matter what be the value of the variable, 
is a root of the sextic. And this function is formed by a direct 
operation. Namely, for all values of u which satisfy the equation 



fu = u, while for all other values, fu a. 

Then, x=/u is the expression of every root of the sextic and 
of nothing else. It is safe to say that Professor Schroder would 
pronounce a pretender to algebraical power who should talk in that 
fashion to be a proper subject for surveillance if not for confinement 
in an asylum. Yet he would only be applying Professor Schro- 
der's "rigorous solution," neither more nor less. It is true that 
Schroder considers this solution as somewhat unsatisfactory; but 
he fails to state any principle according to which it should be so. 
Nor does he hold it too unsatisfactory to be frequently resorted to 
in the course of the volume. The invention of this solution exhibits 
in a high degree that very effective ingenuity which the solution itself 
so utterly lacks, owing to its resting on no correct conception of 
the nature of problems in general and of their solutions and of the 
meaning of a proposition. 

11. Professor Schroder 1 s Pent a grammatical Notation. Profes- 
sor Schroder's greatest success in the logic of relatives, is due pre- 
cisely to his having, in regard to certain questions, proceeded by 
the separation of cases, quite abandoning the glittering generalities 
of the algebra of dyadic relatives. As his greatest success, I reckon 
his solutions of "inverse row and column problems'' in 16, rest- 
ing upon an investigation in 15 of the relations of various com- 
pound relatives which end in 0, , I, and T. The investigations of 
15 might perfectly well have been carried through without any 
other instrument than the algebra of dyadic relatives. This course 
would have had certain advantages, such as that of exhibiting the 
principles on which the formulae rest. But directness of proof would 
not have been of the number of those advantages ; this is on the 
contrary decidedly with the notation invented and used by Profes- 
sor Schroder. This notation may be called pentagrammattc, since it 



200 THE MONIST. 

denotes a relative by a row of 5 characters. Imagine a list to be 
made of all the objects in the universe. Second, imagine a switch- 
board, consisting of a horizontal strip of brass for each object 
(these strips being fastened on a wall at a little distance one over 
another according to the order of the objects in the list) together 
with a vertical strip of brass for each object (these strips being fas- 
tened a little forward of the others, and being arranged in the same 
order), with holes at all the intersections, so that when a brass plug 
is inserted in any hole, the object corresponding to the horizontal 
brass strip can act in some way upon the object corresponding to 
the vertical brass strip. In order then, by means of this switch- 
board, to get an analogue of any dyadic relative, a lover of ," we 
insert plugs so that A and B, being any two objects, A can act on 
B, if and only if A is a lover of B. Now in Professor Schroder's 
pentagrammatic notation, the first of the five characters denoting 
any logical function of a primitive relative, a, refers to those hori- 
zontal strips, all whose holes are plugged in the representation of a 
(or, as we may say for short, "in #"), the second refers to those 
horizontal strips, each of which has in a every hole plugged but 
one. This one, not necessarily the same for all such strips, may be 
denoted by A. The third character refers to those horizontal strips 
which in a have several holes plugged, and several empty. The 
full holes (different, it may be, in the different horizontal strips) 
may be denoted by ft. The fourth character refers to those hori- 
zontal strips which in a have, each of them, but one hole plugged, 
generally a different hole in each. This one plugged hole may be 
denoted by F. The fifth character will refer to those rows each of 
which in a has all its holes empty. Then, a will be denoted by 
CP A/?TO; and a by AytfF <*>; for in a, aH the holes must be filled 
that are void in a, and vice versa. Consequently <z T = A <*> P <*> . 
This shall be shown as soon as we have first examined the penta- 
grammatic symbol for a. This symbol divides a into four aggre- 
gants, viz : 



In order to prove, by the algebra itself that this equation holds, we 
remark that a = a b 4^ a ' b, whatever b may be. For b, substitute 



THE LOGIC OF RELATIVES. 2OI 



O^O). Then, tf^O^rt^T; but aJ = a. Hence, a- l> = a$ 0. 
a-6 = a-a c v= a -a(\*+'~T) = a'(a\+'aT). Buta\ = a, and a - = 0. 
Hence a-b = a -T. Thus a = a^Q^a -#T. Now, in d = a c*\* 
a'c, substitute for c, a\. This gives a = (a I)- d^dT'a ; and 
thus, a a^Q^a [(a^l)'^] T4*0-(T -tf)T. Finally, = 0- 
. But 



And 

[ (by distribution) 



(since - = 0) 
( b > r distribution) 
= ( vj I ) (a ^0) (if more than 2 things 

exist) 

= '(il)'(A l ' T ) ( since 0=I-T) 

= a ' (a 6 ' ( 6 1 ) ' ( 6 T ) (by distribution) 
= '(6l)'(sSO (since ^^T^^) 

= a (a ' a ^ I ) (by distribution) 

= a-(0 s jl) (since a- = 0) 

:= (if more than i object exists) 

= 0. 

So that a-(a$\) = a-(a$\)'(aT ')T and thus 



This is the meaning of the symbol 

We, now, at length, return, as promised to the examination of 
0T. First, ^^O^JT^O. For aT = a^\ and 0^1^ = ^^(1 ^0)= 
a ^ 0, Hence the first character in the pentagrammatic symbol for 
TmustbeO. Second a-[(a$\)'a]T^a~l '[(^T^l)- JT]T. For 
it is plain that a- [(a $\} ' a]~f *< [(a\)-a]T**aT. Also a*<a P *< 

^(TyJO^^Tvi 1 - Hence [(^iO'flT^K^iO'CSTi 1 )]" 1 "' But 
a^l = 5T. Hence, a [(il)-a]T^T [(5T,5I)-5T]T. Hence, 
the second character in the pentagrammatic sign for T, is the 
same as that of a. Thirdly a-a~Y'(aT'a)T*aT Q. For 
. Hence (5 5T)T^[(0T V SI)-(5T3T)] 

)T^aT v JOT^T^O. Consequently, the 
third character of the pentagrammatic symbol of <zT must be <*>. 



202 THE MONIST. 



Fourthly, a-(a$\ )^^T^O. For we have just seen that 
Hence ^ I N # T ^ I ^ I . But 1^1 = if there is more than one object 
in the universe. Hence #^1^07^0. Consequently, the fourth char- 
acter of the pentagrammatic formula for aT is C P. Finally, a 
T$ 0. For ^O^^O^^I 'T$0^(a$ I 
^ N# T ^ 0. Hence the fifth character of the pentagram of a T is <*> . 
In fine, that pentagram is OA^ * 3 ^. Professor Schroder obtains 
this result more directly by means of a special calculus of the penta- 
grammatic notation. In that way, he obtains, in 15, a vast num- 
ber of formulae, which in 16 are applied in the first place with 
great success to the solution of such problems as this : Required a 
form of relation in which everything stands to something but noth- 
ing to everything. The author finds instantaneously that every 
relative signifying such a relation must be reducible to the form 
u qp u^\ - (u 04^^ 0). In fact, the first term of this expression 
u qp u, for which u P u <*> might as well be written, embraces all 
the relatives in question. For let u be any such relative. Then, 
U = UP-U. The second term is added, curiously enough, merely 
to exclude other relations. For if u is such a relative that something 
is u to everything or to nothing, then that something would be in 
the relation u P ' u to nothing. To give it a correlate the second 
term is added ; and since all the relatives are already included, it 
matters not what that correlate be, so long as the second term does 
not exclude any of the required relatives which are included under 
the first term. Let v be any relative of the kind required, then 
v ' (. u vj ^ u vS 0) will answer for the second term. If we had no 
letter expressing a relation known to be of the required kind, the 
problem would be impossible. Fortunately, both I and T are of 
that kind. Of course, the negative of such a relative is itself such 
a relative ; so that 

OvS u $ 0) (v^u P -u ^ 

would be an equivalent form, equally with 



1 6 concludes with some examples of eliminations of great 
apparent complexity. In the first of these we have given x = 



THE LOGIC OF RELATIVES. 203 

(u \) P ^ u ; and it is required to eliminate u. We have, however, 
instantly 



Whence, immediately, 



or 



The next example, the most complicated, requires u to be 
eliminated from the equation 



He performs the elimination by means of the pentagrammatic no- 
tation very easily as follows : Putting u= 



=OAOOO 
= OAOOO 
= OOOTO 



sum 

Thus, x is of the form <*> -/JFO, which has been found in 
former problems to imply x ^ I N^^. 

Without the pentagrammatical notation this elimination would 
prove troublesome, although with that as a guide it could easily be 
obtained by the algebra alone. 

12. Professor Schroder's Iconic Solution of x**<(px. 

Another valuable result obtained by Professor Schroder is the 
solutions of the problem 



Namely, he shows that 

x=f^u 
where 

fu = u ' cpu 

[Of course, by contraposition, this gives for the solution of 
x=/<*>u where fu = u^cpu.~\ The correctness of this solution 
will appear upon a moment's reflexion ; and nearly all the useful 
solutions in the volume are cases under this. 



204 THE MONIST. 

It happens very frequently that the iteration of the functional 
operation is unnecessary, because it has no effect. 

Suppose, for example, that we desire the general form of a 
" transitive" relative, that is, such a one, x, that 



In this case, since l^/^/ whatever / may be, we have 

or 

If, then, 

fu = u-(u$ 
we have 

x=/ co u. 
Here, 

so that 
Also, 



Now 



Thus fu =/ u ; and 






This is a truly iconic result ; that is, it shows us what the constitu- 
tion of a transitive relative really is. It shows us that transitive- 
ness always depends upon inclusion ; for to say that A is /^ / of B 
is to say that the things loved by B are included among those loved 
by A. The factor u^u is transitive by itself; for 



The effect of the other factor, u, of the form for the general transi- 
tive is merely in certain cases to exclude universal identity, and 



THE LOGIC OF RELATIVES. 205 

thus to extend the class of relatives represented by uu so as to 
include those of which it is not true that l^jv. Here we have an 
instance of restriction having the effect of extension, that is, restric- 
tion of special relatives extends the class of relatives represented. 
This does not take place in all cases, but only where certain rela- 
tives can be represented in more than one way. 

Indicating, for a moment, the copula by a dash, the typical 
and fundamental syllogism is 

A B B C 

.-.A C. 

That is to say, the principle of this syllogism enters into every syl- 
logism. But to say that this is a valid syllogism is merely to say 
that the copula expresses a transitive relation. Hence, when we 
now find that transitiveness always depends upon inclusion, the 
initial analysis by which the copula of inclusion was taken as the 
general one is fully confirmed. For the chief end of formal logic 
is the representation of the syllogism. 

13. Introduction to the Logic of Quantity. The great impor- 
tance of the idea of quantity in demonstrative reasoning seems to 
me not yet sufficiently explained. It appears, however, to be con- 
nected with the circumstance that the relations of being greater 
than and of being at least as great as are transitive relations. Still, 
a satisfactory evolutionary logic of mathematics remains a desidera- 
tum. I intend to take up that problem in a future paper. Mean- 
time the development of projective geometry and of geometrical 
topics has shown that there are at least two large mathematical 
theories of continuity into which the idea of continuous quantity, 
in the usual sense of that word, does not enter at all. For project- 
ive geometry Schubert has developed an algebraical calculus which 
has a most remarkable affinity to the Boolian algebra of logic. It 
is, however, imperfect, in that it only gives imaginary points, rays, 
and planes, without deciding whether they are real or not. This de- 
fect cannot be remedied until topology or, as I prefer to call it, 
mathematical topics has been further developed and its logic ac- 
curately analysed. To do this ought to be one of the first tasks of 
exact logicians. But before that can be accomplished, a perfectly 



206 THE MONIST. 

satisfactory logical account of the conception of continuity is re- 
quired. This involves the definition of a certain kind of infinity ; 
and in order to make that quite clear, it is requisite to begin by 
developing the logical doctrine of infinite multitude. This doctrine 
still remains, after the works of Cantor, Dedekind, and others, in 
an inchoate condition. For example, such a question remains un- 
answered as the following : Is it, or is it not, logically possible for 
two collections to be so multitudinous that neither can be put into 
a one-to-one correspondence with a part or the whole of the other ? 
To resolve this problem demands, not a mere application of logic, 
but a further development of the conception of logical possibility. 

I formerly defined the possible as that which in a given state 
of information (real or feigned) we do not know not to be true. 
But this definition to-day seems to me only a twisted phrase which, 
by means of two negatives, conceals an anacoluthon. We know 
in advance of experience that certain things are not true, because 
we see they are impossible. Thus, if a chemist tests- the contents 
of a hundred bottles for fluorine, and finds it present in the major- 
ity, and if another chemist tests them for oxygen and finds it in the 
majority, and if each of them reports his result to me, it will be 
useless for them to come to me together and say that they know 
infallibly that fluorine and oxygen cannot be present in the same 
bottle ; for I see that such infallibility is impossible. I know it is 
not true, because I satisfy myself that there is no room for it even 
in that ideal world of which the real world is but a fragment. I 
need no sensible experimentation, because ideal experimentation 
establishes a much broader answer to the question than sensible 
experimentation could give. It has come about through the agen- 
cies of development that man is endowed with intelligence of such 
a nature that he can by ideal experiments ascertain that in a cer- 
tain universe of logical possibility certain combinations occur while 
others do not occur. Of those which occur in the ideal world some 
do and some do not occur in the real world ; but all that occur in 
the real world occur also in the ideal world. For the real world is 
the world of sensible experience, and it is a part of the process of 
sensible experience to locate its facts in the world of ideas. This 



THE LOGIC OF RELATIVES. 207 

is what I mean by saying that the sensible world is but a fragment 
of the ideal world. In respect to the ideal world we are virtually 
omniscient ; that is to say, there is nothing but lack of time, of per- 
severance, and of activity of mind to prevent our making the requi- 
site experiments to ascertain positively whether a given combina- 
tion occurs or not. Thus, every proposition about the ideal world 
can be ascertained to be either true or false. A description of thing 
which occurs in that world is possible, in the substantive logical sense. 
Very many writers assert that everything is logically possible which 
involves no contradiction. Let us call that sort of logical possi- 
bility, essential, or formal, logical possibility. It is not the only 
logical possibility ; for in this sense, two propositions contradictory 
of one another may both be severally possible, although their com- 
bination is not possible. But in the substantive sense, the contra- 
dictory of a possible proposition is impossible, because we are vir- 
tually omniscient in regard to the ideal world. For example, there 
is no contradiction in supposing that only four, or any other num- 
ber, of independent atoms exist. But it is made clear to us by ideal 
experimentation, that five atoms are to be found in the ideal world. 
Whether all five are to be found in the sensible world or not, to say 
that there are only four in the ideal world is a proposition abso- 
lutely to be rejected, notwithstanding its involving no contradic- 
tion. 

It would be a great mistake to suppose that ideal experimen- 
tation can be performed without danger of error ; but by the exer- 
cise of care and industry this danger may be reduced indefinitely. 
In sensible experimentation, no care can always avoid error. The 
results of induction from sensible experimentation are to afford 
some ratio of frequency with which a given consequence follows 
given conditions in the existing order of experience. In induction 
from ideal experimentation, no particular order of experience is 
forced upon us ; and consequently no such numerical ratio is de- 
ducible. We are confined to a dichotomy : the result either is that 
some description of thing occurs or that it does not occur. For 
example, we cannot say that one number in every three is divisible 
by three and one in every five is divisible by five. This is, indeed, 



208 THE MOM 1ST. 

so if we choose to arrange the numbers in the order of counting ; 
but if we arrange them with reference to their prime factors, just 
as many are divisible by one prime as by another. I mean, for in- 
stance, when they are arranged as follows : 



I, 2, 


4. 8, 


etc. 


5. 


10, 


20, 


40, 


etc. 


7, 14, 28, 


56, etc. 


35. 


70, etc. 


3. 6, 


12, 24, 


etc. 


15. 


30, 


60, 


120, 


etc. 


21, 42, 84, 


168, etc. 


105, 


210, etc. 


g, 18, 


36. 72, 


etc. 


45. 


90, 


180, 


360, 


etc. 


etc. 






etc. 


27. 54. 


108, 16, 


etc. 


135. 


270, 


540. 


I080, 


etc. 












etc. 








etc. 















Thus, dichotomy rules the ideal world. Plato, therefore, for 
whom that world alone was real, showed that insight into concepts 
but dimly apprehended that has always characterised philosophers 
of the first order, in holding dichotomy to be the only truthful mode 
of division. Lofty moral sense consists in regarding, not indeed 
the, but yet an, ideal world as in some sense the only real one ; and 
hence it is that stern moralists are always inclined to dual distinc- 
tions. 

Ideal experimentation has one or other of two forms of results. 
It either proves that S w,-, a particular proposition true of the ideal 
world, and going on, finds Sy Wij also true ; that is, that m and Wi 
are both possible, or it succeeds in its induction and shows the uni- 
versal proposition TL t - m z - to be true of the ideal world ; that is that 
m is necessary and m impossible. 

Every result of an ideal induction clothes itself, in our modes 
of thinking, in the dress of a contradiction. It is an anacoluthon to 
say that a proposition is impossible because it is selfcontradictory. 
It rather is thought so as to appear selfcontradictory, because the 
ideal induction has shown it to be impossible. But the result is 
that in the absence of any interfering contradiction every particular 
proposition is possible in the substantive logical sense, and its con- 
tradictory universal proposition is impossible. But where contra- 
diction interferes this is reversed. 

In former publications I have given the appellation of universal 
or particular to a proposition according as its first quantifier is II 
or 2,. But the study of substantive logical possibility has led me 
to substitute the appellations negative and affirmative in this sense, 



THE LOGIC OF RELATIVES. 2OQ 

and to call a proposition universal or particular according as its last 
quantifier is II or 2,. For letting / be any relative, one or other of 
the two propositions 

n/ % iij a/ n, > 

and one or other of the two propositions 

fly X" Iij Sy n,- / /y 

are true, while the other one of each pair is false. Now, in the ab- 
sence of any peculiar property of the special relative /, the two 
similar forms S/ H/ 7$ and 2y II 2 - ly must be equally possible in the 
substantive logical sense. But these two propositions cannot both 
be true. Hence, both must be false in the ideal world, in the ab- 
sence of any constraining contradiction. Accordingly, these ought 
to be regarded as universal propositions, and their contradictions, 
n f - Sy Iij and Ily S y, as particular propositions. 

There are two opposite points of view, each having its logical 
value, from one of which, of two quantifiers of the same proposition, 
the preceding is more important than the following, while from the 
other point of view the reverse is the case. Accordingly, we may 
say that an affirmative proposition is particular in a secondary way, 
and that a particular proposition is affirmative in a secondary way. 

If an index is not quantified at all, the proposition is, with ref- 
erence to that index, singular. To ascertain whether or not such a 
proposition is true of the ideal world, it must be shown to depend 
upon some universal or particular proposition. 

If some of the quantifiers refer not to hecceities, having in 
themselves no general characters except the logical characters of 
identity, diversity, etc. , but refer to characters, whether non-relative 
or relative, these alone are to be considered in determining the 
"quantity" of an ideal proposition as universal or particular. For 
anything whatever is true of some character, unless that proposition 
be downright absurd ; while nothing is true of all characters except 
what is formally necessary. Consider, for example, a dyadic rela- 
tion. This is nothing but an aggregation of pairs. Now any two 
hecceities may in either order form a pair ; and any aggregate what- 
ever of such pairs will form some dyadic relation. Hence, we may 
totally disregard the manner in which the hecceities are connected 



210 THE MONIST. 

in determining the possibility of a hypothesis about some dyadic 
relation. 

Characters have themselves characters, such as importance, 
obviousness, complexity, and the like. If some of the quantified 
indices denote such characters of characters, they will, in reference 
to a purely ideal world be paramount in determining the quantity 
of the proposition as universal or particular. 

All quantitative comparison depends upon a correspondence. A 
correspondence is a relation which every subject 1 of one collection 
bears to a subject of another collection, to which no other is in the 
same relation. That is to say, the relative "corresponds to" has 



not merely as its form, but as its definition. This relative is transi 
tive ; for its relative product into itself is 



But it is to be observed that if the P's, the Q's, and the R's are 
three collections, it does not follow because every P corresponds 
to an R, and every Q corresponds to an R that every object of the 
aggregate collection P'+'Q corresponds to an R. The dictum de 
omni in external appearance fails here. For P may be \u ( I ^ #)] R 
and Q may be [^'(lv5^)]R; but the aggregate of these is not 

[(^zO-O^^F^OlR, which e <i uals [(K^yO^wy 

The aggregate of the two first is \ (u^v)- \v - (\$v) 
\u ( I ^ u} 4* I ^ G { R> which is obviously too broad to be necessarily 
included under the other expression. Correspondence is, therefore, 
not a relation between the subjects of one collection and those of 
another, but between the collections themselves. Let q ai mean that 
/ is a subject of the collection, a, and let r ftj - k mean that j stands in 
the relation ft to k. Then, to say that the collection P corresponds 
to the collection Q, or, as it is sometimes expressed, that "for every 



1 1 prefer to speak of a member of a collection as a subject of it rather than as 
an object of it ; for in this way I bring to mind the fact that the collection is virtu- 
ally a quality or class-character. 



THE LOGIC OF RELATIVES. 211 

subject of Q there is a subject of P," is to make the assertion ex- 
pressed by 

20 II, % DU q?i 4* r^j ( I tk^rpkj) ' ?QJ- 
In the algebra of dual relatives this may be written 



The transitivity is evident ; for 



Not only is the relative of correspondence transitive, but it also 
possesses what may be called antithetic transitivity. Namely, if c 
be the relative, not only is cc^c but also c^zc^c. To demonstrate 
this very important proposition is, however, far from easy. The 
quantifiers of the assertion that for every subject of one character 
there is a subject of another are Sp H/ 2y 11^. Hence, the proposi- 
tion is particular and will be true in the ideal world, except in case 
a positive contradiction is involved. 

Let us see how such contradiction can arise. The assertion 
that for every subject of P there is a subject of Q is 
30 II 2 % 11* fr,.*!* r ftl y ( I ik + r^ ) ?gy . 

This cannot vanish if the first aggregant term does not vanish, that 
is, if II/ qpi or there is no subject of P. It cannot vanish if every- 
thing is a subject of Q. For in that case, the last factor of the latter 
aggregant disappears, and substituting I for r$ the second aggre- 
gant becomes <*>. The expression cannot vanish if every subject 
of P is a subject of Q. For when I is substituted for r^, we get 



If P has but a single individual subject and Q has a subject, for 
every P there is a Q. For in this case we have only to take for ft 

*It must be remembered that to a person familiar with the algebra all such 
series of steps become evident at first glance. 



212 THE MONIST. 



the relation of the subject of P to any one of the subjects of Q. But 
if P has more than one subject, and Q has but one, the expression 
above vanishes. For let 1 and 2 be the two subjects of P. Substi- 
tuting 1 for /, we get 



Substituting 2 for / we get 

Multiplying these 
n* EU r 
Substituting 2 for k and 1 for k\ this gives 



which involves two contradictions. 

It is to be remarked that although if every subject of P is a 
subject of Q, then for every subject of P there is a subject of Q, 
yet it does not follow that if the subjects of P are a part only of 
the subjects of Q, that there is then not a subject of P for every 
subject of Q. For example, numbering 2, 4, 6, etc., as the I st , 
2 nd , 3 rd , etc., of the even numbers, there is an even number for 
every whole number, although the even numbers form but a part 
of the whole numbers. 

It is now requisite, in order to prove that c*c c, to draw three 
propositions from the doctrine of substantive logical possibility. 
The first is that given any relation, there is a possible relation 
which differs from the given relation only in excluding any of the 
pairs we may choose to exclude. Suppose, for instance, that for 
every subject of P there is a subject of Q, that is that 



The f actor ( I ^ ?p ) here has the effect of allowing each correlate 
but one relate. Each relate is, however, allowed any number of cor- 
relates. If we exclude all but one of these, the one retained being, 
if possible, a subject of Q, we have a possible relation, /?', such that 



The second proposition of substantive logical possibility is that 
whatever is true of some of a class is true of the whole of some class. 
That is, if we accept a proposition of the form 2/ a, /, we can write 



THE LOGIC OF RELATIVES. 213 

though this will generally fail positively to assert, in itself, what is 
implied, that the collection j excludes whatever is a but not b y and 
includes something in common with a. There are, however, cases 
in which this implication is easily made plain. 

Applying these two principles to the relation of correspond- 
ence, we get a new statement of the assertion that for every P 
there is a Q. Namely, if we write a^ to signify that i is a relate of 
the relative r a to some correlate, that is if a at -=(t^^r a P), if we 
write b aj to signify that ^ is a correlate of the relative r a to some 
relate, that is if & aj -=(j*<r a c f>), and if we write p ca to signify that 
r a is an aggregate of the relative r c , that is, if A = (/'^^r tf ), then 
the proposition that for every subject of P there is a subject of Q 
may be put in the form, 

X 2 Y u x n, 2 5 2 n a s/ 2, lip n* n,, 



ft*^* ' A ) ' (?Q, ***?, ^ * V ' Ae ). 

This states that there is a collection of pairs, <:, any single pair of 
which, a, has for its sole first subject a subject of P, and for its 
sole second subject a subject of Q which is at the same time a sub- 
ject of a collection, /, and that no two pairs of the collection, c, 
have the same first subject or the same second subject, and that 
every subject of P is a first subject of some pair of this collection, 
c, and every subject of Q which is at the same time a subject of y 
is a second subject of some pair of the same collection, c. 

The third proposition of the doctrine of substantive logical 
possibility of which we have need is that all hecceities are alike in 
respect to their capacity for entering into possible pairs. Conse- 
quently, all the objects of any collection whatever may be severally 
and distinctly paired with all the objects of a collection which shall 
either be wholly contained in, or else shall entirely contain, any 
other collection whatever. Consequently, 

n p n Q x 2 n* 2* II, 2 5 n a s/ 2, u n n v n^ n, n 

aj ' q*j (a*u 4* l) (, 4 

'AS ) ' (toy+hy 'Ac ) ' (ft 



214 THE MONIST - 

Although the above three propositions belong to a system of 
doctrine not universally recognised, yet I believe their truth is un- 
questionable. Suppose, now, that it is not true that for every sub- 
ject of P there is a subject of Q. Then, in the last formula, U M 
gim^* <lQm*<Q' This leaves for the last factor IL M g Qn 4* ^, and 
then the formula expresses that for every subject of Q there is a 
subject of P. In other words, we have demonstrated the impor- 
tant proposition that two collections cannot be disparate in respect to 
correspondence, but that for every subject of the one there must be a 
subject of the other. 

The theorem c^<c ^c is now established ; for since of any two 
collections one corresponds to the other, we have ^^^.c^c or 
(non-relatively multiplying by c) c^^c. Hence, c**\c*z(c$c) 
c^c^cc^c^cc', and, by the transitive principle cc"^c, we finally 
obtain c^^c ^ c. 

Thus is established the conception of multitude. Namely, if 
for every subject of P there is a subject of Q, while there is not for 
every subject of Q a subject of P, the multitude of Q is said to 
be greater than that of P. But if for every subject of each col- 
lection there is a subject of the other, the multitudes of the two 
collections are said to be equal the one to the other. We may cre- 
ate a scale of objects, one for every group of equal collections. 
Calling these objects arithms, the first arithm will belong to con- 
sidered as a collection, the second to individuals, etc. Calling a 
collection the counting of which can be completed an enumerable 
collection, the multitude of any enumerable collection equals that 
of the arithms that precede its arithm. Calling a collection whose 
multitude equals that of all the arithms of enumerable collection a 
denumerable collection (because its subjects can all be distinguished 
by ordinal numbers, though the counting of it cannot be com- 
pleted), the arithms preceding the arithm of denumerable collec- 
tions form a denumerable collection. More multitudinous collec- 
tions are greater than the collections of arithms which precede 
their arithm. 

Let there be a denumerable collection, say the cardinal num- 
bers ; and let there be two houses. Let there be a collection of 



THE LOGIC OF RELATIVES. 215 

children, each of whom wishes to have those numbers placed in 
some way into those houses, no two children wishing for the same 
distribution, but every distribution being wished for by some child. 
Then, as Dr. George Cantor has proved, the collection of children 
is greater in multitude than the collection of numbers. Let a col- 
lection equal in multitude to that collection of children be called 
an abnumeral collection of the first dignity. The real numbers (surd 
and rational) constitute such a collection. 

I now ask, suppose that for every way of placing the subjects 
of one collection in two houses, there is a way of placing the subjects 
of another collection in two houses, does it follow that for every 
subject of the former collection there is a subject of the latter? In 
order to answer this, I first ask whether the multitude of possible 
ways of placing the subjects of a collection in two houses can equal 
the multitude of those subjects. If so, let there be such a multi- 
tude of children. Then, each having but one wish, they can among 
them wish for every possible distribution of themselves among two 
houses. Then, however they may actually be distributed, some 
child will be perfectly contented. But ask each child which house 
he wishes himself to be in, and put every child in the house where 
he does not want to be. Then, no child would be content. Conse- 
quently, it is absurd to suppose that any collection can equal in 
multitude the possible ways of distributing its subjects in two 
houses. 

Accordingly, the multitude of ways of placing a collection of 
objects abnumeral of the first dignity into two houses is still greater 
in multitude than that multitude, and may be called abnumeral of 
the second dignity. There will be a denumerable succession of 
such dignities. But there cannot be any multitude of an infinite 
dignity ; for if there were, the multitude of ways of distributing it 
into two houses would be no greater than itself. 1 



1 Inasmuch as the above theorem is, as I believe, quite opposed to the opinion 
prevalent among students of Cantor, and they may suspect that some fallacy lurks 
in the reasoning about wishes, I shall here give a second proof of a part of the 
theorem, namely that there is an endless succession of infinite multitudes related 
to one another as above stated, a relation entirely different, by the way, from those 
of the orders of infinity used in the calculus. I shall not be able to prove by this 



2l6 THE MONIST. 

We thus not only answer the question proposed, and show that 
of two unequal multitudes the multitude of ways of distributing the 
greater is the greater ; but we obtain the entire scale of collectional 

second method, as is proved in the text, that there are no higher multitudes, and in 
particular no maximum multitude. 

The ways of distributing a collection into two houses are equal to the possible 
combinations of members of that collection (including zero) ; for these combina- 
tions are simply the aggregates of individuals put into either one of the houses in 
the different modes of distribution. Hence, the proposition is that the combina- 
tions of whole numbers are more multitudinous than the whole numbers, that the 
combinations of combinations of whole numbers are still more multitudinous, the 
combinations of combinations of combinations again more multitudinous, and so 
on without end. 

I assume the previously proved proposition that of any two collections there is 
one which can be placed in one-to-one correspondence with a part or the whole of 
the other. This obviously amounts to saying that the members of any collection 
can be arranged in a linear series such that of any two different members one comes 
later in the series than the other. 

A part may be equal to the whole ; as the even numbers are equal in multitude 
to all the numbers (since every number has a double distinct from the doubles of 
all other numbers, and that double is an even number). Hence, it does not follow 
that because one collection can be placed in one-to-one correspondence to a part of 
another, it is less than that other, that is, that it cannot also, by a rearrangement, 
be placed in one-to-one correspondence with the whole. This makes an incon- 
venience in reasoning which can be overcome in a manner I proceed to describe. 

Let a collection be arranged in a linear series. Then, let us speak of a section 
of that series, meaning the aggregate of all the members which are later than (or as 
late as) one assignable member and at the same time earlier than (or as early as) a 
second assignable member. Let us call a series simple if it cannot be severed into 
sections each equal in multitude to the whole. A series not simple itself may be 
conceivably severed into simple sections, or it may be so arranged that it cannot be 
so severed (for example the series of rational fractions arranged in the order of 
their magnitudes). But suppose two collections to be each ranged in a linear series, 
and suppose one of them, A, is in one-to-one correspondence with a part of the 
other B. If now the latter series, B, can be severed into simple sections, in each 
of which it is possible to find a member at least as early in the series as any mem- 
ber of that section that is in correspondence with a member of the other collection 
A, and also a member at least as late in the series as any member of that section 
that is in correspondence with any member of the other collection, and if it is also 
possible to find a section of the series, B, equal to the whole series, B, in which it 
is possible to find a member later than any member that is in correspondence with 
any member of the collection, A, then I say that the collection, B, is greater than 
the collection, A. This is so obvious that I think the demonstration may be omitted. 

Now, imagine two infinite collections, the a's and the ft's, of which the ft's are 
the more multitudinous. I propose to prove that the possible combinations of /3's 
are more multitudinous than the possible combinations of a's. For let the pairs of 
conjugate combinations (meaning by conjugate combinations a pair each of which 
includes every member of the whole collection which the other excludes) of the (3's 
be arranged in a linear series ; and those of the a's in another linear series. Let 
the order of the pairs in each of the two series be subject to the rule that if of two 
pairs one contains a combination composed of fewer members than either combina- 
tion of the other pair, it shall precede the latter in the series. Let the order of the 
pairs in the series of pairs of combinations of (3's be further determined by the rule 
that where the first rule does not decide, one of two pairs shall precede the other 
whose smaller combination (this rule not applying where one combinations are 
equal) contains fewer (3's which are in correspondence with a's in one fixed corre- 
spondence of all the a's with a part of the (3's. 

In this fixed correspondence each a has its ft, while there is an infinitely greater 
multitude of /3's without a's than with. Let the two series of pairs of combinations 



THE LOGIC OF RELATIVES. 217 

quantity, which we find to consist of two equal parts (that is two 
parts whose multitudes of grades are equal), the one finite, the 
other infinite. Corresponding to the multitude of on the finite 
scale is the abnumeral of dignity, which is the denumerable, on 
the infinite scale, etc. 

So much of the general logical doctrine of quantity has been 
here given, in order to illustrate the power of the logic of relatives 
in enabling us to treat with unerring confidence the most difficult 
conceptions, before which mathematicians have heretofore shrunk 
appalled. 

I had been desirous of examining Professor Schroder's devel- 
opments concerning individuals and individual pairs ; but owing to 
the length this paper has already reached, I must remit that to 
some future occasion. 

CHARLES S. PEIRCE. 
NEW YORK. 

be so placed in correspondence that every pair of unequal combinations of a's is 
placed in correspondence with that pair of combinations of p's of which the smaller 
contains only the /3's corresponding in the fixed correspondence to the smaller com- 
bination of a's ; and let every pair of equal combinations of a's be put into corre- 
spondence with a pair of /3's of which the smaller contains only the fi's belonging 
in the fixed correspondence to one of the combinations of a's. 

Then it is evident that each series will generally consist of an infinite multi- 
tude of simple sections. In none of these will the combinations be more multitu- 
dinous than those of the /3's. In some, the combinations of a's will be equal to 
those of the /3's ; but in an infinitely greater multitude of such simple sections and 
each of these infinitely more multitudinous, the combinations of #'s will be infinitely 
more multitudinous than those of the a's. Hence it is evident that the combina- 
tions of the fi's will on the whole be infinitely more multitudinous than those of 
the a's. 

That is if the multitude of finite numbers be a, and 2 fl = , 2 * = ^ , z c = d, etc 
0<*O<</< etc. ad infinitum. 

It may be remarked that the finite combinations of finite whole numbers form 
no larger a multitude than the finite whole numbers themselves. But there are 
nfinite collections of finite whole numbers ; and it is these which are infinitely 
more numerous than those numbers themselves. 



SCIENCE AND FAITH. 1 

II. INTRODUCTION TO MAN AS A MEMBER OF 
SOCIETY. (CONTINUED.) 

III. ANIMAL SOCIETIES. 

T T 7E HAVE seen that the principal agent employed by evolution 
* * in the creation of organisms of increasing complexity is as- 
sociation. Individuals join together in aggregates, preserve their 
independence for a greater or less period of time, gradually adapt 
themselves to one another, and end by becoming amalgamated in 
a single organism. Where there were many individuals there is 
now but one. Cohesion has given rise to continuity among all the 
parts, that is to say, to morphological unity. 

The kind of association which we are now about to consider is 
entirely different. Here, the individuals, although still parts of 
aggregates, are unrestrained and distinct ; they come and go ; their 
egos are preserved intact ; the bond which unites them is virtual 
not material. Nevertheless, a large body of philosophers regard 
the two sorts of association as essentially the same ; others, but 
slightly differing from them, restrict themselves to simple compari- 
son. Some writers have gone so far as to contend that their prin- 
ciples and organisations, rudimentary in animals but as real there 
as in man, as well as the laws that govern them, are identical. We 
shall see what this amounts to. 

We have already learned that morphology and physiology both 
tend to reduce the causes which lead animals generally, and the 

1 Translated from Dr. Topinard's MS. by Thomas J. McCormack. For the 
two preceding articles of this series see Vol. VI., No. i and No. 4. 



SCIENCE AND FAITH. 2IQ 

highest particularly, to form temporary or continued associations, 
to two : the necessity of satisfying the wants of the organism, the 
upshot of which is egoism, as a matter of imperative duty ; and the 
need of relations with one's fellows, which culminates in altruism, 
a product of development from egoism by differentiation. 

Struggle for existence, emulation, and competition, three 
things which hang together, are the logical consequences of ego- 
ism. The best endowed, those which know best how to take ad- 
vantage of the opportunities offered, survive and increase. The 
acutest form of this antagonism is where one animal, to stay his 
hunger, is forced to devour another. A second widely-spread form 
is parasitism, in which the animal takes up his abode upon or within 
another and partakes gradually of the latter, according to his needs. 
Next comes commensalism, in which the animal still selects its abode 
on the surface or in the interior of another, but confines its opera- 
tions to taking advantage of its situation without doing harm to its 
host. Example, the little red crab of our common oyster. The 
following cases are of an allied order : the case of Amphibena, a 
bird which inhabits ant-hills under sufferance of their proprietors ; 
that of Elaphis esculapis, which shares its nook in the thicket with a 
swarm of hornets ; and that of the pilot, fish and the remora who 
keep company with the shark. 

Next comes the state of unilateral mutualism, in which one spe- 
cies is made use of by another and performs services for the latter 
but without receiving anything in exchange. The instance of the 
crocodile and of the bird Trochilus, on the banks of the Nile, is 
well known. This bird performs two services for the crocodile. It 
enters its mouth and dispatches there the worms and leeches which 
trouble the crocodile ; it flies rapidly away, giving vent to a peculiar 
cry when the ichneumon, the enemy of the crocodile, approaches, 
thus apprising its companion of the ichneumon's presence. In re- 
turn the crocodile shakes its tail whenever it wishes to close its 
mouth, thus giving the bird warning. The crocodile in no wise 
recompenses, but contents itself simply with respecting the person 
of the little animal. The service rendered is unilateral. But it is 
easy to understand that by the exercise of extremely little intelli- 



220 THE MONIST. 

gence, if not unconsciously, the crocodile may be led to defend its 
Trochilus. The same remarks are applicable to birds which asso- 
ciate with certain Ungulata as Hyas and Ardea with the hippopot- 
amus, Textor with the buffalo of Kaffraria, Buphaga with the ele- 
phant of Asia, Ardeola with the elephant of Africa and which 
follow them and devour the insects lodged in their thick skins. 
Interest is the sole impulse of these birds, and in all likelihood it 
would also be that of the Ungulata in defending them. 

The domestication of one species by another is a further in- 
stance of unilateral mutualism. A good example of this is that of 
certain ants who reduce other species to slavery and allow them- 
selves to be fed by them. When man causes domesticated animals 
to administer to his wants, his pleasures, or his caprice, he sup- 
ports them in return for their pains, but it is also true that he 
cruelly slays them when they have ceased to be useful or pleasing 
to him. 

As an example of bilateral mutualism we shall cite the case of 
certain aphids and ants. The aphids secrete an abdominal fluid 
which distends them ; the ants are passionately fond of this secre- 
tion, suck the same from the aphids, and finally, in order to keep 
this precious source of nutrition always at hand, provide them with 
food ; the result being that the aphids are converted into genuine 
milch cows which are kept and watched in stables. Another exam- 
ple is that of the indicator-bird or honey-guide, and man. The 
former arrests the latter by his cries and points out to him the loca- 
tion of beehives, by which both then profit. If this partnership 
were not formed, the one could not obtain the chrysalids of which 
it is fond, nor the other the honey. Continuing thus, we come to 
the cases where one animal borrows the services of another tem- 
porarily, as is the case with the serpent, who is ferried across a river 
by a duck, or to the cases where several animals assist one another 
in crossing streams of water, in lifting a large stone, in moving the 
trunk of a tree, in constructing a dam, in hunting, or in mutual de- 
fence. 

The second cause which induces animals to associate together 
is possibly more powerful the need of company. The struggle for 



SCIENCE AND FAITH. 221 

existence is not so general nor merciless as some extreme disciples 
of Darwin would maintain. There are frequent lulls. Many spe- 
cies do not have antagonistic wants ; the animal is not always pos- 
sessed of blind hunger ; he does not always covet the place of his 
neighbor ; his motives for quarrelling are sometimes extremely 
slight. The Carnivora are the born enemies of the species that 
constitute their food, but the Herbivora have only a desire for 
plants, fruits, roots, barks, etc. Both the one and the other have 
their moments of necessary repose. Rest is as imperious a want 
as activity. The Carnivora give most of their time to activity, 
but the Herbivora spend the greater part in rest. Buffon goes 
too far, but is in a measure right, when he says : "The animals 
that live on the fruits of the earth are the only ones that form so- 
cieties. Abundance is the foundation of social instinct, of that 
gentleness of manner and peacefulness of life which characterise 
only those who have no grounds for quarrelling." In fact, a danger 
which keeps one constantly on the alert, a gloomy climate, a desert 
country, the necessity of always thinking of the prey which one 
stands in need of, lead to agitation, to defiance, and to egoism. On 
the other hand, security, the absence of anxiety, beauty of environ- 
ment, abundance of food, and rumination, lead to far niente, to 
sympathy, and to love. The animal has no aversion for those who 
intend him no harm ; he approaches, regards his observers with 
curiosity, and even seems to solicit their caresses. Darwin has de- 
scribed the tameness of wild birds towards man. The latter is 
shunned only by animals who have learned at their cost to fear 
him. Man is the greatest enemy of animal societies. Prior to his 
time, they were unquestionably very numerous. The pastures of 
Pikermi in the Miocene epoch, the innumerable and multifarious 
herds of mixed species which the first travellers in Central Africa 
encountered, are a confirmation of this fact. The societies of buf- 
faloes, of beavers, of chamois, and of numerous other mammals, 
all dwindled and melted away on his coming. Extensive societies 
of birds are encountered only in regions sparsely settled by man, 
as in the northern countries which Dr. Labonne visited. Where 
man does not slay, he domesticates. The natural troops of the 



222 THE MONIST. 

Andes and of the Himalayas have been replaced by more or less 
domesticated troops. We assist in the destruction of animal so- 
cieties. 

Whatever be the physiological mechanism by which it is en- 
gendered, whether that which I have set forth in a preceding ar- 
ticle or some other, it is an undeniable fact that the social sentiment 
does exist in varying degrees in the majority of animals. All, from 
the reptiles up, but particularly the birds and the higher mammals, 
possess the emotional sensibility from which it is derived or which 
is the consequence of it. Animals associate individually with their 
fellows or with different species ; they exhibit sympathy, and they 
love, sometimes intensely, sometimes unto death. Every one has 
witnessed the surprising friendships which frequently spring up be- 
tween two animals of contradictory characters, even among Carniv- 
ora, friendships which sometimes neutralise the most antagonistic 
instincts. This sensibility is differentiated in a multitude of ways. 
Mr. Romanes has followed it up under the heading of " Emotions" 
in his work on Animal Intelligence. It is an admitted fact that in 
domestication man has only developed qualities which pre-existed 
in the species. No one will deny but altruism has attained its 

highest development in the dog, to mention but a single instance. 

* 
* * 

In the Fishes we meet with five or six kinds of associations or 
assemblages, to wit : (i) assemblages between species or between 
individuals of the same species which should be styled indifferent. 
These are numerous even throughout the entire range of inverte- 
brates, as among the sponges, corals, mollusks, and insects, and de- 
pend on conditions of nutrition, of temperature, or shelter, of sandy 
or rocky bottoms, of calm or agitated environments, according as 
these conditions suit with the same needs of different species. All 
that is necessary is that such contiguous species should have little 
ground for quarelling. (2) Assemblages of the same species, the 
object of which is hunting in company. Such are the shark and 
the dog-fish who form shoals in the Channel and pursue the her- 
ring ; or the carps, who also "live together," we are told, and hunt 
in company. (3) Associations of the same species for distant voy- 



SCIENCE AND FAITH. 223 

ages. The simple fact that we have to deal here with one species 
only, like the herring or the sardine, proves that such assemblages 
are less indifferent than the others. At certain times of the year 
bands of fishes assemble and travel off either for a change of climate 
by passing from a cold to a warm region, or in order to find certain 
kinds of food which abound elsewhere. These bands or shoals 
frequently comprise a countless number of individuals. Fishes 
enjoy exceptional facilities for such migrations ; they are rapid and 
easy swimmers, and the currents, too, help them much. (4) Migra- 
tory associations, having in view the special end of spawning in 
remote but favorable localities, to which it is their custom to resort 
for this purpose. (5) Still another sort of this last kind of associa- 
tion, the object of which is less definite. The salmon is an example 
of it. Born near the sources of rivers, the salmon descends to the 
sea, sojourns there seven or eight months, and then again ascends 
in shoals of from thirty or forty to the place whence he came to 
perform there the functions of reproduction. Are the fish acquainted 
with one another under such circumstances ? We do not know. 
At any rate, in certain species they play together. 

In the Batrachia and Reptiles one of the conditions of assem- 
blages is greatly weakened. These animals have not the same fa- 
cility for moving about that fishes have ; they creep around on the 
earth and are frequently very clumsy. Among the terrestrial Rep- 
tilia certain crocodiles undertake migrations, but only for short dis- 
tances, along the banks of rivers. Among the marine Reptilia may 
be cited the turtles who journey annually to deposit their spawn on 
distant shores. Indifferent assemblages are frequent, for example, 
among lizards upon a surface exposed to the sun, or among croco- 
diles upon the shores of a lake or of a river. Does any durable 
bond actuate them ? Crocodiles thus associating are totally indif- 
ferent to one another ; no tie whatever results from their union. 
The lizards, on the other hand, live in perfect harmony and play 
together ; some wander about in little bands, like the Varunus 
and the Gecko. The blind worm (Anguis}, the rattlesnake, and 
Tropidonotus viperinus also associate in bands. Marine turtles re- 
main together even after spawning, but seem to take no interest in 






224 THE MONIST. 

one another ; they neither engage in mutual attack nor make mu- 
tual defence, but swim along together from force of habit. Was it 
this sort of companionship which led to migration for spawning, or 
was the contrary the case ? A special cause of assemblages, entirely 
passive in character, may be observed in reptiles. I refer to their 
hibernation, or periodical torpor, during the long months of winter, 
where great advantage results from keeping each other warm in 
holes. Snakes and blind worms (Anguida) are thus frequently found 
twined together in solid masses. In 1876, in the forest of Fontaine- 
bleau, opposite Thomery, while blasting rock, the workmen came 
upon a cavity containing three hundred and twelve vipers who had 
taken up their abode there for the winter. 

Birds. These present all kinds of assemblages save that of hi- 
bernation, to-wit, indifferent assemblages ; assemblages by pure so- 
ciability ; assemblages for migratory purposes ; assemblages between 
different species ; assemblages for nesting together ; and family as- 
semblages. 

The kind which gives rise to the largest assemblages is migra- 
tion. The birds are in this regard even more favorably situated 
than the fishes ; they cut the air with almost vertiginous velocity, 
changing their climate at will. Some in Europe, for example, de- 
scend from the northern countries, as is the case with the duck ; 
others, starting from central regions, fly to the shores of the Med- 
iterranean and Africa. The life of a migratory bird is passed as fol- 
lows : In the winter in the South it lives according to its habits, 
either alone, or in groups, or, in exceptional cases, in pairs, dating 
from the preceding season. In the spring it departs. Reaching its 
destination, it devotes several months to reproduction, and during 
the time which is left to it it resumes its usual habits. In autumn, 
or later, it takes its flight again to the South. Sometimes it departs 
alone and remains alone during the whole passage, as does the 
woodcock. Sometimes it departs alone but falls in with compan- 
ions on its way, which is the case with the quail, who ultimately ar- 
rives in flocks of some size, part of which stop in Provence, but the 
majority of which reach Africa. In some cases the two sexes form 
distinct groups, which do not join each other until after their ar- 



SCIENCE AND FAITH. 225 

rival, the males being in one flock and the females and their young 
in another, as is the case with the turkey and the fighting sand- 
piper (Philomachus). Most frequently a signal is given, all the in- 
dividuals of the same species within a certain region assemble, turn, 
soar upwards, and depart in a body. Of this kind are the passen- 
ger-pigeon {Ectopistes}, the swallow, the stork, the crane, the crow, 
the goose and the rook. Some journey only by day, others by night. 
These flocks vary in number from a few individuals to hundreds, to 
thousands, and, in one instance of the passenger-pigeon, estimated 
by Audubon, to 1,100,000. Sometimes isolated individuals or whole 
flocks of other species join them. In the majority of these societies 
harmony reigns ; in others quarrels and serious combats arise. Save 
in the turkey, there is no noticeable head or chief of the flock, 
but frequently, as is the case with the crane and wild duck, there 
are leaders who take the head of the column and relieve each other 
by turns. Their flight is confused, in the shape of a triangle, whose 
vertex cuts the air, or in columns, or in groups. Sometimes the 
aged males, or the females with their young, or even the young 
males will fly separately. The few couples which are observed are 
those which had not separated on departure, or who, on returning, 
had just begun to mate for the coming season. On their arrival the 
assemblage or flock may remain intact for some weeks, or for one 
or two months, but in most cases it breaks up and is dispersed. In 
sum, they all obey collective habits which have been insensibly 
formed, consolidated, and converted into a periodical instinct, which 
the bird obeys. A quail, for example, kept in a warm cage, well 
fed, and ignorant of everything about him, experiences lively agita-. 
tion at the time of annual migration, seeks to escape, dashes him- 
self against the bars of his cage, and, as the upshot of his desper- 
ate attempts, may drop down dead. It would be useless to add that 
sedentary societies are transformed most readily of all into migra- 
tory societies, and that the spirit of sociability which is habitual 
with them has also its effects upon the latter. 

Sedentary assemblages present many gradations from the in- 
different or interested form to that which I have styled assemblages 
by pure sociability. It is not a temporary and intermittent neces- 



226 THE MONIST. 

sity that is in action here, but commonly a quite pronounced need of 
playing together, of singing together, of making responses, of aban- 
doning oneself to all manner of pranks and crochets in other 
words, of thorough enjoyment through companionship. They are 
permanent, but during intervals either of rut or of the whole series 
of reproductive phases. They are made up, according to the sea- 
son and the species, now entirely of males who have completely 
or partially abandoned their females, now of males and females fol- 
lowed by their young, who have grown up and are continuing their 
education under the supervision of both parents or of the mother 
alone, and again of males, of females, and of offspring who are 
totally emancipated, the former either paying no regard whatever 
to each other or still continuing united. 

Contrasted with the sociable birds of the preceding category, 
are the unsociable birds. The following are a few types leading 
from the latter to the former. 

The first type is that of birds who are perfectly egotistical, who 
live entirely alone or indifferently with others without bestowing on 
them the least concern or paying them the least attention. Exam- 
ples are the woodcock, the pheasant, the thrush (Turdus), the king- 
fisher, the cuckoo, and the albatross. The second type is of birds 
who in general life are egotistical, but possess some traces of fam- 
ily sentiment, and occasionally associate with a few of their fellows 
for purposes of hunting. The eagle, the vulture, and the falcon are 
varieties of this type. The third type is of birds who assemble in 
vast numbers without manifesting any interest at all for one an- 
other, but who understand on occasions how to combine their move- 
ments for common defence. Examples of this type are several ma- 
rine birds like the sea-swallows and many stilt-birds. The fourth 
type is composed of birds which are egotistical, but which form 
closed and exclusive societies into which no strangers are admitted. 
An example of this type is the swan, who prefers to live alone rather 
than to join other groups even when it could be admitted. The fifth 
type is of birds who form open associations where harmony and 
happiness reign supreme. These are the immense majority. Such 
are the passenger-birds, the swallows, the Corvidae, a large number 



SCIENCE AND FAITH. 227 

of stilt-birds and palmipeds, and the creepers. The parrot is the 
most advanced representative of this type. Parrots make expedi- 
tions like those of the cercopithecoid monkeys, which we shall speak 
of later, form organisations and station sentinels. 

One of the most striking proofs of the spirit of sociability among 
birds is found in the facility with which many of them associate 
with individuals of different species but slightly distant from them 
zoologically. Here again a gradation appears, running from abso- 
lutely indifferent assemblages to the most complicated and har- 
monious societies. The following are the degrees : (i) unsociable 
species which chance temporarily holds together but who take no 
interest in one another ; examples of which are the eagle, the buz- 
zard, the vulture, and the kite. (2) Species whose mutual company 
is agreeable but who do not seek one another, who contract no 
unions with one another, and derive no advantage from their mu- 
tual society ; examples of these are the nut-hatch (Stita), the tomtit 
(Parus), the finch (Fringilld}, the kinglet (Regulus), and the creeper 
(Certhia). (3) Species which are egoistic and solitary by nature 
but which possess qualities that lead other species to gather around 
them in order to take advantage thereof, and who neither avoid 
these species nor take any notice of them. Examples are the green- 
shank and the curlew, who by a peculiar warning cry give the dan- 
ger-signal to all the inhabitants of a locality. (4) Species which 
associate together pleasantly, the one having qualities by which the 
other profits. Examples, the godwit (Ltmosa), a genus of stilt-birds 
(Hypsibates), and the avocet ; the first, which is more intelligent and 
more vigilant, ultimately acquires through these unions a consider- 
able authority over the others. Another example are the unions in 
the marshes of Hungary between the heron, the ibis, the cormorant, 
the tern, the goose, and the pelican. (5) Sociable species in all 
their relations with their own fellows and with stranger species, 
without there appearing to be any interest on either side, the mo- 
tive being absolutely the instinct of sociability. These are almost 
the same as those of the preceding fifth type : the passenger birds, 
the parrots, the Corvidae, etc. 

The last form of assemblages is for nesting in common. Fe- 



228 THE MON1ST. 

males abandoned by their males immediately after rut sometimes 
lay their eggs all in one nest, not with a view of sharing the com- 
mon burden but for the better defence of their eggs. The turkey 
is an example of this type, the male being the sworn enemy of its 
eggs. The polygamous females of the ostrich do the same, but for 
a different purpose. We can recall no example of females abandoned 
by their males actually nesting in common. On the other hand this 
practice is frequent in the second and third periods when the father 
participates in it. Examples are the gannet, the cormorant, the 
petrel, the swift, the chimney-swallow, the rook, the heron, the 
weaver-bird, the bee-eater, etc. At times a single species, and 
again different species, associate thus together. 

Let us stop and consider a few cases. The gannets, one of 
those species which in other latitudes help to produce guano, have 
been described among others by Audubon as they live at the mouth 
of the St. Lawrence. They arrive from the South in successive 
flocks of from fifteen to one hundred and take up their abode on the 
islands there. Here they copulate and construct their nests, two 
feet apart in parallel rows. If one of the females steals the twigs 
of its neighbors, the others will all combine against her. When 
they brood the males hunt for them in the surrounding regions and 
on occasions will even sit themselves. Later, when the young are 
able to run about, or fraternise with one another, the nests are 
trampled upon and the lines effaced. At the end of four months 
about, all is finished, the young quit the rocks, emigrate, and do 
not return until the following year. Audubon also describes the 
nesting places of chimney-swallows, which are the same as tree- 
swallows, at least prior to the transformation of their instincts. 
These, too, are migratory birds, and form in their nesting places 
veritable societies. Audubon has counted fifty nests in the cavity 
of a sycamore tree and has seen as many as eleven thousand swal- 
lows repair nightly to this place in search of shelter. He saw as 
many as one thousand enter a chimney one evening. 

The communal nesting-places of the heron {Ardcd) of our coun- 
try are extraordinary from another point of view. A more or less 
extended group of trees is chosen by them in a swampy country. 



SCIENCE AND FAITH. 22Q 

Thousands of couples repair thither, each tree supporting from fif- 
teen to one hundred nests, together and at different heights with 
the nests of other species such as Nycticorax, Ardetta, Phalocro- 
corax, and Herodias. Nothing is more deafening than the hubbub 
which these various united species make. The most curious case 
is that of the weaver-bird (Ploceus) and particularly that of Phile- 
taerus. Levaillant, the South- African traveller, has counted as many 
as three hundred and twenty nests or couples on the same tree, 
and in this instance all of the same species. The nests touch and 
are covered by a sort of umbrella-like tent fastened in the branches. 
In these cases the subsequent life of the bird is not prejudiced. 
The Philetaerus when its family is broken up returns to its old life 
with other and different species. In its social intercourse with these 
no trace survives of the families which temporarily existed in the 
previous state. 

This leads us to close our remarks on birds by insisting on the 
facts relative to the varied influence which the family instinct exer- 
cises on the social instinct. It is certain that in a general way the 
species which are most sociable are also the most highly endowed 
with family qualities. And as examples we might cite the passen- 
ger birds, the Corvidae, and the creepers. But a large number of 
species with a family turn are quite refractory to any kind of social 
alliances, as is the case with the Raptores. On the other hand the 
Gallinaceae, who are considerably averse to family unions are 
strongly inclined to sociability whether with their fellow-birds or 
with other species. I need only recall the case of the wild duck 
who abandons his females and does not return until the young have 
grown up, but is yet extremely sociable. Of particular cases I may 
mention the water-hen, who has a strong family turn but forms 
neither sedentary nor migratory societies, and particularly the Molo- 
thrus, which lives a social life but has so little of the family senti- 
ment as to be given to polygamy and polyandry, which, further, 
does not form couples, and whose female lays its eggs in the nests 
of others. 

In another point of view, while the sexual instinct forcibly 
brings the sexes together, and the family instinct brings them to- 



230 THE MONIST. 

gether as a matter of option, on the other hand the sexes are fre- 
quently observed to separate in general life and to form distinct 
groups within the flock or apart therefrom. The young males them- 
selves separate from the young females, who stay a much longer 
time with their mother. Thus in the pheasant, the young males 
quit their mother in the autumn, whereas the young females do not 
leave her until the spring. As to the natural duration of the family, 
which is fixed by the ability of the young to take care of themselves, 
we have already seen that it is sometimes abbreviated by the return 
of the sexual desire in the parents, who drive away their young 
nolens volens. Nevertheless, when there is but one brood a year, or 
where only the young of the last brood are concerned, there is a 
distinct tendency on the part of the young to remain Iqnger in the 
society of their mother, who is then not opposed to their staying, 
or may be even desirous of it. Such is the origin of the coveys of 
partridges which pass with us the winter and do not break up until 
springtime, when rut returns. Coveys of this kind even join others 
and form multifamiliary societies. In the American ostrich {Rhea) 
this occurs ; but the society has here little coherency ; the members 
wander oft or pass from one flock to another. In the great bustard 
several families join and form flocks amounting to several hundred 
individuals ; but in the spring during the period of rut the society 
breaks up. The only case among birds favorable to the theory that 
the family is the nucleus of society, is that of the guinea fowl. It 
has from fifteen to twenty young for which both parents care. At 
the end of the season six or eight families are joined together, har- 
mony reigns in the bosom of this little society, an old male governs 
it ; and yet they do not know how to render each other mutual as- 
sistance in times of danger, but all flee in different directions. We 
shall conclude on this subject later. 

Mammals. These enlist our whole attention. They present 
all the forms of assemblages, of a more or less social character, 
which we have as yet encountered : indifferent, accidental, and 
temporary, for purposes of migration, for purposes of reproduction, 
sedentary, between different species, and for purposes of hiberna- 
tion. Marine mammals, who have the same facilities for speedy 



SCIENCE AND FAITH. 231 

locomotion as fishes, bats which fly like birds, and certain Rodentia 
and Ungulata, offer examples of association for distant voyages. 
In the same order of facts, we may recall the short journeys which 
the marmots and chamois undertake in the winter from regions of 
snow to the valleys. The seals and the Chiroptera afford examples 
of distant journeys for reproductive purposes. We shall next say 
a word regarding assemblages for purposes of hibernation. 

We have spoken of snakes and slow-worms (Anguida) who en- 
ter a state of torpidity during the winter, and who are found en- 
twined in large masses in cavities and holes. Birds fly from the 
cold with too much facility to have any need of hibernation, and be- 
sides they are warm-blooded. In the lower mammals hibernation 
is pretty common, but only in individuals of solitary habits like 
the hedgehog, the shrew (Sorex]^ the dormouse (Myoxus), the ham- 
ster (Cricetus), and the harvest-mouse. Hibernation in common is 
rare, but occurs, for example, in the mole, who has a disposition to 
burrow in common, in the squirrel where the whole family burrow 
by the side of one another, but it is notably the case with the mar- 
mot. In the higher mammals a trace of hibernation, relating not 
to society but to family life, is observed in the white polar bear 
during the period of gestation. The female of the white polar bear 
digs a hole and, getting into it, causes herself to be covered by 
snow, staying so covered until spring. In short, hibernation points 
to nothing as regards the disposition of mammals to form societies. 

In the lower mammals, such as the Monotremata, the Edentata, 
and the Insectivora, social troops are not formed at all. The ma- 
jority, if not all, live solitary lives, and some are entirely wanting 
in the family spirit, as is the case with the porcupine ant-eater, the 
Armadillo, the ant-bear, the pangolin, the sloth, the tanrec, and 
the shrew, while others are less refractory in this respect, like 
the duckbill and the hedgehog. The aardvark (Orycteropus} is the 
only one of the Edentata that is met in twos or threes. The mole 
is the only one of the Insectivora who possesses any social instinct ; 
each has its special burrow, but common corridors exist in which 
as many as fifteen to twenty individuals dwell. 

In the Marsupials the progress is scarcely perceptible. The 



232 THE MONIST. 

majority live alone. Still, in the kangaroo-rat several congregate 
in a common burrow. In the common kangaroo we meet with in- 
different assemblages ; these animals graze together in bands num- 
bering as high as eighty individuals, the same ones returning on the 
morrow either as before or with others as chance decides. Some- 
times three or four evince a preference for one another, but no mu- 
tual interest. On the slightest occasion each one flees in his own 
direction without any attempt to join the troop again. And yet the 
kangaroo exhibits some susceptibility to education in the hands of 
man. All have heard of the kangaroo boxers. 

In the Rodentia the progress is apparent. Some live solitary 
lives like the dormouse, the hamster, the porcupine, the jerboa, 
the hare, and the squirrel. The jumping-hare, it is said, lives in 
large families comprising several couples. In the South American 
rodent Lagostomus, a dozen families occupy the same burrow, over 
which a male watches and gives the signal in case of danger. The 
vole or meadow-mouse is very sociable and sometimes lives in large 
colonies, the burrows of which communicate with one another and 
are dug side by side in the same field. The voles, and particularly 
the lemmings, are celebrated furthermore in northern countries for 
their enormous emigrations. Their excessive fecundity enables 
them rapidly to exhaust a country, whereupon they set out in quest 
of new feeding grounds, in obedience to habits which have persisted 
for ages and frequently survived their reason for being. Mice and 
rats, as we know, gather in considerable numbers in localities fa- 
vorable to their wants. Rats sometimes sleep in a sort of common 
nest, embracing to keep warm. At night they travel in troops, 
either in quest of new localities, or to make excursions in the open, 
all the while observing strict rules of prudence. Rabbits are di- 
vided into tribes occupying separate fields ; each couple has its 
own burrow, connected with the others. They go out together in 
the morning and at night are watched over by an old male who ap- 
prises them of danger and urges on the stragglers. The marmots 
live together and have two kinds of dwellings, one in summer on 
elevations, the other in winter in lower places, where they hiber- 
nate in common from seven to nine months. The prairie-dogs have 



SCIENCE AND FAITH. 233 

what the Indians call villages. Each has its burrow with well-kept 
winding pathways between ; the lookouts show here and there their 
heads ; they pay one another visits and play together ; the habita- 
tion of some important personage being the main point about which 
their wanderings centre. If one of them is wounded or killed, an- 
other will quickly drag its body into the nearest burrow while the 
hunter is reloading his piece. Other and not less celebrated vil- 
lages were those of the musk-rat and the beaver. The huts of the 
latter are grouped about a pond ; all the members of the commu- 
nity join in cutting and hauling trees, in the constructing or repair- 
ing of dams, in digging canals, and in storing provisions. Their 
works are maintained from generation to generation, and from time 
to time the excess of the population move off and settle farther 
away. 

The question may be asked with regard to the beaver, whether 
mutual assistance is the original motive of their living in societies, 
or whether this mutual assistance is a secondary outgrowth. In the 
prairie dog everything points to the conclusion that the desire for 
company is the sole motive. In the multitudinous swarms of lem- 
mings necessity and imitation may account for everything. 

The Chiroptera are allies of the Insectivora. They all live in 
bands which hibernate together and sometimes migrate from one 
distant isle to another. In France there are famous caves which 
bats have inhabited from time immemorial and where they have ac- 
cordingly deposited a thick layer of guano. The interesting point 
in the history of Chiroptera is this : The females, having been aban- 
doned by the males after rut, gather together in groups of a dozen 
each in some hole of the cave, where they give birth to their young 
and rear them in common. 

The marine mammals present a similar case, which recalls the 
practice of communal nesting in birds, and which is complete, com- 
plex, and prolonged. We shall speak of them now, although in 
some respects they are allied to the Ungulata. 

The marine mammals are all polygamus, with the exception of 
the walrus and the dugong, which are monogamous. They all live 
in herds. The whale is less social, often living a solitary life, yet 



234 THE MONIST. 

sometimes forming herds for the purpose of voyaging or of rut. 
Some assemblages, the main object of which is play and com- 
panionship, are also met with, as among the dolphins. There are 
also sedentary societies. Thus M. Trouessart speaks of a colony of 
seals who had taken up their abode in the Bay of the Somme. The 
five hundred sea-lions at the Golden Gate, near San Francisco, 
which are protected and fed, form also a sedentary colony. But the 
interesting groups, although difficult of explanation, are those which 
have the triple object of voyaging, companionship, and reproduc- 
tion. Let us essay a sketch of them. These assemblages are com- 
posed, according to the season, of complete polygamous families, 
with a male swimming at their head, of groups of so-called solitary 
males, of groups of pregnant females, of groups of variously aged 
young, and of scattered bachelor males. Under what circumstances 
do these elements separate or come together ? Let us abridge the 
description given of one of these species, the Arctocephalus or sea- 
bear of the Falkland Islands, by Steller and others. 

In November, we are told, the old males arrive at these islands 
and scatter out on the beach in long files. In December the females 
arrive, and immediately violent combats are fought for their pos- 
session. The young males arrive several months later. At the end 
of April they all put to sea ; in the middle of June the beach is de- 
serted. So far, as I should judge, their conduct has reference solely 
to rut. The female has one to two young and carries them from 
eight to ten months, which brings us to the following season. The 
following, then, is the picture which is drawn for us. Each male 
has from three to fifteen, thirty, and even as many as forty females, 
and his entire family may amount to as many as one hundred and 
twenty individuals, which includes, surely, the young of one 
year. The beach is divided off into sections ten metres square, 
each occupied by a different family. The females pass their time 
in sleeping ; the young play together like little dogs ; the male is 
near at hand, and looks on ; if the young ones come to blows he 
comes growling upon the scene, separates them, embraces them, 
and continues with them their game. If the females behave badly 
he chastises them ; they crawl at his feet, seem to beg his pardon, 



SCIENCE AND FAITH. 235 

and shed copious tears. At times males and females weep together. 
At a period which is not mentioned the old males separate and go 
away. A little later all of them quit the beach, each family swim- 
ming together. What happens afterwards ? Do these families and 
the various other straggling groups unite and form assemblages 
comparable to herds or societies ? 

Among the mammals the Carnivora are the counterpart of the 
Raptores among birds. They live on flesh, spread terror about 
them, are ferocious, and reap none but the fruits of egoism. In 
hard times they devour one another, and, when forced, to it, even 
eat their females and their young. Nevertheless, some associations 
are formed among them having in view useful ends. At the head 
stand the Felidae. These live alone or in couples, chance alone oc- 
casionally inducing some of them to unite for the purposes of chase. 
The leopard is met in troops of from six to eight. The Canidae 
vary. The Colsun of Deccan hunts in packs of from fifty to sixty 
individuals, the dingo in families. The wild dogs of Constantino- 
ple and of Egypt are divided into tribes, each having its headquar- 
ters and admitting no stranger. The jackal sometimes hunts alone, 
sometimes in company. Wolves lead solitary lives in summer and 
combine in winter into large packs. The blue fox of the poles lives 
in packs, stations sentinels, but are not less unsympathetic for this 
reason ; they quarrel incessantly and engage in bloody combats. 
The Viverridae live solitary lives. A species of the mongoose (Her- 
pestes} and the daman (Hyraoc), of Abyssinia, are often found to- 
gether, and give an instance of association between different spe- 
cies. The Mustelidae also live solitary lives ; of these the badger is 
the most egoistic specimen. There is one exception, however, the 
weasel, which has a developed social instinct. Two or three stories 
have been told about it in this connexion. A man once carelessly 
attacked a weasel, who, driven to bay, uttered a war-cry to which 
twenty weasels responded ; these, issuing forth in all directions from 
their burrows, charged the hunter and forced him to flee covered 
with wounds. This is solidarity. The Ursidae live partly solitary 
lives and partly in small troops. The coatis (Nasud) in this respect 
are of two kinds. One lives a solitary life when not in rut, and the 



236 THE MONIST. 

other lives in troops of from fifteen to twenty individuals, conducted 
by the oldest. But the harmony in these groups is far from per- 
fect. The otters (Lutra), finally, live solitary lives, although in one 
marine species family life is, as we have already remarked, consid- 
erably developed. 

The Ungulata are quite differently situated from the Carnivora. 
They are herbiverous, their food is obtained with a minimal effort 
and without strife. They pass a part of their time in ruminating 
with that serenity which every one has noticed. Their life has all 
the quietness and peace which Buffon regarded as the fundamental 
condition for developing the social spirit. They all live in small 
or in large herds, at times temporary but generally permanent, with 
regard to which the sole problem for us is to discriminate between 
what is accessory to the family and what is social. Some of them 
emigrate and their societies are then combined in greater or lesser 
numbers. Among the latter we will cite the reindeer who annually 
migrates from regions near the pole and returns there to obtain his 
favorite lichen in herds which have been known to reach one hun- 
dred thousand heads ; the antelopes of Central Africa who go in 
quest of fresh pastures in herds numbering as many as fifty thou- 
sand heads ; the buffalo who was formerly seen in incalculable num- 
bers. A pioneer's wagon once took eight days to cross an unbroken 
column of buffaloes. 

In the Solidungula all three kinds of herds occur : family, so- 
cial, and migratory. The first is simply the permanent polygamous 
family, such as we have described among the wild ass (Asinus hemi- 
onus} and the onager, and which, as we have seen, was created as 
much by the desire of the male to have about him a herd as by the 
sexual impulse. The second is a union of a larger or smaller number 
of such families ; the number of individuals here amounts to hun- 
dreds in the so-called turpans or wild horses of Mongolia, and to 
thousands among the cimarones of La Plata. In the latter there is 
no observable leader. In the turpans there is also none ; the com- 
mand is collective and is lodged in the heads of the families. When 
the herd is attacked, they all form in a circle with the mares and the 
foals in the centre ; their style of defence is methodical. The herd 



SCIENCE AND FAITH. 237 

is not a closed one ; if a domesticated horse takes refuge with them 
he is cordially received. Nevertheless, stallions without females 
and young males likely to give umbrage to the old males are re- 
quired to follow on one side. The third kind of herd is formed for 
purposes of migration, and may be either the one or the other of 
the two preceding kinds, but particularly the second, created or 
augmented as the circumstances demand. A fourth kind is also met 
with among some Solidungula and resembles that which we have 
so frequently encountered between different species of birds. The 
zebra is an example of this class. It comprises two species, the 
dauw and the quagga, of which rival herds, numbering from ten to 
one hundred individuals, do not mingle. One of these, the quagga, 
receives into its herds other species, such as the gazelle, the ante- 
lope, the gnu, and the ostrich. Is it need of company or utility 
which gives rise to these associations ? As in the birds the most 
vigilant of this species act as guides, particularly the ostrich who is 
highly esteemed for his prudence and sharpness of sight. 

The ruminants have the same kinds of associations. In the 
guanacos and vicugnas of the Cordilleras the herd resembles that 
of the wild ass. It is polygamous during the three periods of rut, 
gestation, and family life. The male is a chief of a herd, is jealous 
of the young males as they approach puberty, and is followed by 
his females and their young with devotion if not servility. In the 
mouflon two species behave differently. In the Tragelaphus of 
Africa all live solitary lives ; when capable of reproduction the 
males approach the females in the season of rut, form with them a 
temporary polygamous herd and then abandon them, each resuming 
his old habits and the females being left alone with their young. 
In the musimon of Europe, permanent herds exist in which all ages 
and sexes are mingled. In the season of rut, the males form po- 
lygamous herds, with which they retire aside, whilst the remaining 
young males and females and the males without females select the 
oldest among them as their leader. When the season of rut is over, 
all rejoin the herd and pick out a general leader, the strongest and 
most esteemed among them. The females are merged in the gen- 
eral body, each having sole charge of her offspring. The males 



238 THE MONIST. 

evince no solicitude for the young, but assume their share of the 
collective responsibility and interfere in a body in times of danger. 

Among the Cervidae the monogamous reindeer is a type apart. 
There is a general herd in which all ages and sexes are mingled. 
Rut arrives ; couples are formed which go aside on the approach 
of parturition, afterwards wander around with their little one until 
the latter has waxed strong, and then rejoin the troop where the 
family appears to be prolonged. There is a period, thus, at which 
the herd is represented solely by the young of both sexes. Out- 
side, a few solitary individuals are found, old males which have 
been driven from the herd. There are several leaders who relieve 
each other ; for example, in the nightly watch. In the stag (Cervus) 
the old solitary males are found isolated ; the adult males are most 
frequently found forming a little herd apart ; and the females with 
the fawns and the brockets are found united. In the season of rut 
the males capable of reproduction and the females come together 
and form a temporary herd whilst the celibates and other abandoned 
individuals gather in a second distinct herd over which they appoint 
a temporary chief. After rut, the solitary individuals return to their 
old ways of life ; the most sociable of the males remain with their 
females for a longer or shorter period of time. In Capreolus this 
union is intimate and protracted. In the Capridae the whole breaks 
up into polygamy at the period of rut. The herd is formed by the 
females and their young of all ages. As is the general rule, the 
grouty and ill-natured aged solitaries are expelled from the herd. 
In the Bovidae the herd is formed upon the model of the European 
musimon. The male performs the sexual functions, deserts the fe- 
male who joins her companions, and then assumes the post of chief 
of the herd in partnership with the other males, one of them being 
selected to discharge the principal role. 

In the antelopes differences are observed. There is the herd 
of the gazelles numbering from forty to fifty individuals and formed 
of monogamous families ; there is the polygamous troop of the 
capricorns (Cervicapra) in which the old females are utilised as sen- 
tinels ; there is the temporary troop, during times of rut, of the 
chamois, and the migratory troops, numbering from ten to fifty 



SCIENCE AND FAITH. 239 

thousand heads, of the springbok. We even meet here with asso- 
ciations among different species. 

The Pachyderms are the oldest of the Ungulata. Several are 
on the eve of disappearing, not only by the hand of man but by the 
law of evolution which requires that species which no longer con- 
form to present conditions of life shall disappear. There is reason 
for believing that certain of these species formed anciently numerous 
societies of which we now possess barely the remnants. They all 
live in troops of from three to more in the tapir, of from four to 
twenty in the wild boar (Sus scrofa) and Phacochoerus, of from four 
to ten in the rhinoceros, of from three to four or from fifty to sixty 
in the hippopotamus, and from four or five to fifty and anciently to 
two hundred in the elephant. The three individuals to which ref- 
erence was made in the tapirs appear to bear to one another no 
family relationship, but are rather an indifferent assemblage, such 
as we meet with in the kangaroo. In the hippopotamus the groups 
of three or four may constitute families, but the groups of fifty or 
sixty are certainly assemblages of families. Among the Suidae, the 
twenty individuals which I once counted in the hog (Sus) corre- 
spond without doubt to a maternal family with the young of sev- 
eral farrows and not to a polygamous family, for the male is not at 
all sociable nor even disposed to make himself the chief of a herd. 
Assemblages of several polygamous families are met with among 
the peccaries of South America, concerning which we read : "they 
come in numerous herds, the male marching at the head and the 
females following, with the young in the rear." 

The elephant may be seen in herds ranging from five to ten, to 
fifty, to one hundred and fifty, and formerly in one case, to two 
hundred. Each herd is a family into which no stranger is admitted. 
The unfortunate individual who has lost his herd or who has escaped 
from domestication is taken up by none of them. He is obliged to 
lead a solitary life. They allow him to approach and drink at the 
same spring, but they never permit him to mingle in the herd at 
large ; thus he becomes ill-natured. The most prudent and most 
vigilant is chosen as the chief. Generally it if a male but some- 
times it is a female ; the chief is deposed when his capacities wane. 



240 THE MONIST. 

He has extensive authority and is always obeyed. He has been 
seen to station as many as five outposts around the herd to whom 
he gives his orders and whom he changes. Harmony reigns in this 
society. The cardinal point is that this herd is really a family, I 
might add, a large family composed of relatives of all degrees. My 
reasons for so believing is Tennent's statement that each of these 
herds can be recognised by special physical characters which are 
common to all. This is a certain proof of consanguinity. 

These lines were already written when my friend M. Louis 
Rousselet, the author of L'Inde des Rajahs, informed me that the 
males were often found separately in small bands. This would in- 
dicate a resemblance to many ruminants like the deer and the big- 
horn. The males always show a tendency to assemble apart, as do 
the females with the young. This last division would be the re- 
pository so to speak, the centre of the community, its constant 
fraction. 

The Monkeys, from whom we still exclude the anthropoids, 
offer us numerous examples of the fusion of family and social ele- 
ments, as well as instances of polygamous troops in which the male 
is master, and also some cases of solitary monogamous life. Sev- 
eral of them undertake journeys, but they do not form special mi- 
gratory bands. 

The Lemurs may be seen according to circumstances in coup- 
les, in small families, or in troops. Thus the Maki by day sleeps 
rolled up in couples, and by night roams about in troops of thirty 
or more. 

The Monkeys of the New World present all forms. The Nycti- 
pithecus, as we have said, is monogamous, but does not form bands. 
The Mycetes lives in polygamous families of from three to ten 
members and has been seen in groups of forty, which points to the 
association of several families. The Ateles lives in small bands in 
which besides the young and the females are several males. The 
Cebus lives in large troops comprising both sexes which other kinds 
of monkeys sometimes voluntarily join. The Saki, the Callithrix, 
and the Arctopithpcus also live in troops of varying magnitude, 
some forming but one family and others composed of several. In 



SCIENCE AND FAITH. 24! 

both cases there is a chief who in the one is the father and in the 
other the male in highest esteem. The line of demarcation be- 
tween the isolated polygamous family and the society is difficult to 
assign with the defective data now at our command. 

As to the monkeys of the Old World no doubt prevails. All 
live in troops formed of banded families. Examples are the Semno- 
pithecus, the Macacus, the Cercopithecus, and the Cynocephalus. 
The expeditions of Cercopithecus are well known. The strongest 
male is the chieftain and directs the movements of the troop, sta- 
tions sentinels, is the first to advance, climbs trees to reconnoitre, 
accelerates the movements of the tardy, restrains the precipitate, 
exacts silence, and by divers grunts and growls issues orders which 
are both understood and obeyed. They all help one another, 
cleanse one another, and mutually extract thorns and slivers. 

The Cynocephalus is more remarkable still. Brehm, who 
gained his experience of them in Abyssinia, describes their life in 
considerable detail. Their troops vary from fifteen to one hundred 
and fifty individuals, quartered in districts of from a mile to a mile 
and a half wide not far from a spring. We find together, for ex- 
ample, from twelve to fifteen old males and from twenty to thirty 
females, the rest being the young of different ages. In the morn- 
ing, or if it rains, they may be seen in the highest galleries and 
cavities of the rocks massed together in a body, with the young 
supporting themselves by preference on their mothers, and the older 
ones on their fathers. Later, or if the morning is clear, they go in 
search of their breakfast, lifting the stones, tearing up roots, and 
gathering fruits. After breakfast they climb up again to the rocks, 
the males take their seats upon the flat slabs and silently contem- 
plate the landscape while the females watch their infants play and 
quarrel. Towards evening they repair to the spring, seek their 
evening meal and then pass the night in an old or in some newly 
found lodging-place. Brehm describes their offensive and defensive 
tactics under the direction of a commander-in-chief, their habit of 
prolonged observation before making a decision, the daring of some 
of them in their bold dashes to extricate a comrade from danger, 
and their overawing by attitude and look the dogs of their pursuers 



242 THE MONIST. 

who flee forthwith and take refuge behind their masters. He speaks 
of their collecting stones at a given point to throw at their enemies, 
of their even carrying these missiles up trees, and of their aiding 
one another in rolling the largest of these. Harmony reigns in the 
bosom of these societies, but between different species as the Ge- 
lada and Hamadryas old scores are sometimes settled in free and 
open-handed combat. M. Mizon has encountered in the neighbor- 
hood of the Benue, bands of Cynocephali numbering as many as 
one thousand who would allow no other monkeys such as the Cerco- 
pithecus and Colobus in their domains. The most remarkable 
instances of co-operation which I know of in the Cynocephali is 
that which Romanes has reproduced of a regular combat delivered 
at the Cape against English soldiers. There was a perfect hail of 
stones. An old grey-headed male directed the operations of the 
various squads according to the strategic needs. The English were 
forced to retreat. 

In the Anthropoids our knowledge is far from what we should 
wish. Like the hippopotamus, rhinoceros, and so many other an- 
imals, they are gradually becoming extinct, and their present state 
gives us no indication of what they anciently were. If they live at 
this day little in social groups, it is likely because they are not nu- 
merous. The following is a summary of our knowledge of them. 
The gibbon and the chimpanzee love to play and frequently unite 
and render actual concerts by striking with clubs the branches of 
hollow trees. The gibbon has been seen in troops of from one 
hundred to one hundred and fifty. The orang-outang has little 
social instinct ; he lives a solitary life when old, or as a member of 
a family. Wallace has seen a male or female accompanied with 
semi-adult young, or three or four infants together, but never two 
males together. The gorilla has been met by Duchaillu twice in 
bands of from eight to ten individuals. As to the chimpanzee 
there is the statement of Schweinfurth based on the accounts of 
natives that the young associate in small troops. But particularly 
valuable is the exact affirmation of Livingstone which we have 
already quoted, that one of these species, the Soko, lives in troops 
composed of monogamous families. 



SCIENCE AND FAITH. 243 

Conclusions. The mammals, in the matter of society, do not 
offer the picture which as the successors of the birds we should na 
turally have expected. The sentiment which engenders the paternal 
maternal and monogamous family in the birds is weakened and has 
been diverted in the mammals, where in most cases it gives rise to 
the paternal and polygamous family. Also the social sentiment, 
which most commonly engenders societies in birds, has been weak- 
ened and diverted in the majority of the mammals. As a rule the 
bird is more altruistic, the mammal more egoistic. In the birds 
the two sentiments of family and society are quite irregularly dis- 
tributed in the different orders ; in the mammals they form a scale 
running from zero in the lower orders to a high point in the mon- 
keys. The natural linkage of the orders will perhaps explain these 
differences : they radiate in the birds, they proceed by steps in the 
mammals. 

The lower mammals, such as the Monotremata, the Edentata, 
and the Insectivora, are hardly better endowed with regard to fam- 
ily than the reptiles. In the Marsupialia, the Carnivora lead a sol- 
itary life while the few herbiverous species that graze together are 
still in the indifferent period. The Chiroptera form a special group. 
They seem to crowd into caves, not from any social instinct but 
because they find there conditions suiting their individual tastes. 
In the Carnivora, though high up in the scale and in intelligence, 
there are no societies, properly speaking, but simply temporary 
assemblages, having as their object attack in common, in which 
ferocity takes the place of cordiality. In some Rodentia two forms 
of association are highly developed, the one for migrations on a 
large scale, and the other sedentary for mutual help and companion- 
ship. In the marine mammals association is developed with the 
twofold end in view of migration and reproduction, in the latter 
case in the form of polygamous families. In the Ungulata associa- 
tion is generalised under the triple form of isolated polygamous 
families, of banded polygamous families, or of associated monoga- 
mous families, the first being under the direction of a chief who is 
necessarily the common father, the two others under the conduct 
of a single chief chosen from among the fittest, or under that of all 



244 THE MONIST. 

the old males, acting as a single person. In the monkeys the asso- 
ciated polygamous form is general but mingled with less spirit of 
domination and with more altruism in the male. 

Among the birds we have noted (i) associations among differ- 
ent species both for companionship and for mutual service, as fre- 
quent here as they are rare among the mammals ; (2) large tempo- 
rary associations for migrations, general as a rule, but rare among 
the mammals ; (3) sedentary and permanent associations, of a cor- 
dial, gentle, and ingenuous character, quite different from those 
ordinarily presented by the mammals. A few orders here and there 
may be made the subject of parallels. The Raptores among the 
birds and the Carnivora among the mammals are quite analogous. 
Egoism, monogamy, family spirit, and no social instinct are their 
common traits. The owl and the weasel are exceptions ; both are 
sociable. The parrots and the monkeys likewise are counterparts. 
Clamorous, easily teased, high family spirit and sociability, con- 
certed expeditions, such are their characters. In certain societies 
of birds, as the rooks, the swallows, and the crows, there are indi- 
cations of the formation of a species of tribunals for judging and 
punishing crimes and misdemeanors committed either within the 
flock or by strangers. In some mammals and notably in the mon- 
keys, sentinels are said to have been punished for neglect of duty 
in permitting the troop to be surprised. It is certain that some 
mammals, like the domestic dog, the cat, and the elephant, have a 
confused but trustworthy notion of good and bad, of what is per- 
mitted and what is forbidden, and of what is just and what is un- 
just. 

* 
* * 

Let us summarise now some of our general conclusions. 

i. All assemblages of animals, whatever may be the social 
form in which they have culminated, began as indifferent assem- 
blages. Vague habits were unconsciously established between a 
few individuals ; these habits were extended to others and even be- 
tween different species. Pleasure resulted. The habits were con- 
firmed, the pleasure grew. The social spirit was the result, it in- 
creased and led to organisations of life in common, often in the 



SCIENCE AND FAITH. 245 

roughest and crudest form, but furnishing the framework within 
which were developed the customs and characters leading up to 
those which may be observed in the society of man. 

2. At their origin these assemblages, whether they were tem- 
porary or prolonged, had no object. Each obeyed his own caprice, 
the impulses and wants of the moment. Some individuals endowed 
with the spirit of observation, vigilance, and initiative ventured 
upon some act which the others imitated. Imitation is a powerful 
factor in all social and individual phenomena ; one must be a phy- 
sician to appreciate its full potency. M. Tarde has assigned to it 
an exceptional role in the life of man ; M. Lebon has described its 
irresistibleness in the case of crowds. It intervenes incessantly and 
with more efficacy in animals where routine takes the place of rea- 
son. I shall always remember on the eve of the siege of Paris in 
1870, the concourse of cattle which were gathered in the Bois de 
Boulogne. They wandered about dumbfounded. If one should 
start by any chance in one direction, a second, a third, then ten, a 
hundred, a thousand would blindly follow. The first pushed on by 
those behind seemed to be the chief, leading, although uncon- 
sciously, the entire troop. Hornaday has given a like description 
of the buffalo on the prairies. In this manner may be compre- 
hended those astonishing migrations of immense bands of fishes, 
birds, and of some mammals. Chance crowned by success actu- 
ated the first, imitation drew after him the others. The habit once 
acquired the band was formed over again each year. There are 
migrations which have persisted for ages, although their original 
motive has ceased to exist. The instincts acquired are modified, 
transformed, and adapted to new conditions but with difficulty. 

3. The causes of the formations of animal societies are numer- 
ous. The first is habit following upon indifference. The second 
is imitation. What shall we put third ? We were prepared, we 
must avow, after our biological review of the conditions of the prob- 
lem, to find always in the front rank of the facts, individual interest, 
egoism, that " categorical imperative " which forces the ego to 
comply forthwith with the physical exigencies of the organism which 
it represents. It is not so, and why? Because it is not logic that 



246 THE MONIST. 

determines most of the acts of an animal, but spontaneity. With- 
out doubt, the first impulse of the animal touches his conservation ; 
he flees by reflex action when a danger is presented ; he throws 
himself upon his prey when he is hungry ; he gives tooth for 
tooth when attacked. He avoids the traps which are set for him. 
But when that first impulse is past, under ordinary conditions, the 
other natural tendencies quickly regain the upper hand. He gives 
way to his sensibility, he does not reflect, he does not forestall. 
Between utility and what is pleasing, between the possible pain of 
to-morrow and the pleasure of to-day he is not long in hesitating. 
The true cause of the formation of more or less sedentary and 
of permanent societies is that altruism which we have seen to be 
simply the love of self through others and which subsequently be- 
comes a native sentiment as imperious under certain circumstances 
as egoism. It is the desire, the pleasure, the need of not being alone, 
of having companions, of exchanging with them one's impressions, 
of loving and being loved. There are two kinds of animals, those 
who in daily satisfying their alimentary needs are obliged to be 
constantly on the alert, defiant, and ready for combat ; and those 
who having no ordinary ground for conflict give themselves up to 
the enjoyment of living and are naturally inclined to an existence 
of peacefulness and pleasure. The first are refractory to the social 
instinct, their egoism interferes. If they join in assemblages it is 
from necessity, accidentally and temporarily to hunt their prey. 
What they form is assemblages and not societies. The second 
kind, when once on the way, rapidly acquire social habits and 
progressively gain in altruism what they lost in egoism, coming 
finally into the possession of a social instinct which in many spe- 
cies is quite powerful. Our meaning is not that individual interest 
is not manifested in their societies, but that it is secondary there. 
They live together, they are exposed to the same difficulties of ex- 
istence, and it is necessary that their action should be mutual and 
concerted. In the social weaver-bird as it is called (Philetartts 
socius), they have combined for the building of nests and for the 
rearing of the young side by side with one another ; they have ar- 
rived, without a thought of the ulterior end, at the construction of 



SCIENCE AND FAITH. 247 

a common umbrella-shaped roof for their nests. The beavers most 
likely gathered together in social assemblages before they undertook 
the construction of their great works. The leaders which the ma- 
jority of constituted societies appoint, the expeditions which parrots 
and monkeys organise, are the outcome of a common interest ; but 
the societies in question were formed beforehand to satisfy the need 
of living in company. 

In a word, sedentary societies, according to the theory which 
we present, took their rise in and were developed by the altruistic 
spirit. Individual interest by itself would never lead to anything 
consistent. Animals, contrary to certain appearances, as well as to 
the preconceptions of physiology and to ideas quite widely spread, 
are more sociable than egoistic. We judge them from our point of 
view. In this light, they are fierce and brutal ; when their imme- 
diate material needs speak strongly in them, when their legitimate 
nervosity intervenes, they are violent, much to be dreaded, and 
quick in defence. But when these needs are subdued or are easily 
satisfied they are gentle, kind, and affectionate. The numerous 
species which man has succeeded in domesticating, from the lizard 
and the snake up to the elephant, are proofs of this. One must not 
be guided by particular cases, but must look at the facts in their 
general bearing. The animal is perhaps superior to man in point 
of altruism ! Animal societies are less polished, but perhaps more 
humane, all things being equal, than our own. 

4. We shall not dwell on the subsidiary causes which concur 
in the foundation of societies and which we have already discussed 
or touched upon incidentally, the need of play and of outwardly 
venting one's surplus of vitality, the impulse to sing, to be noisy, 
or to be heard, the need of exercising authority, of being feared 
and admired, and conversely the need of being assisted, protected, 
petted, and loved. (See The Monist, 1896, p. 551.) We shall con- 
fine ourselves to our general conclusion regarding the influence of 
phenomena of reproduction on societies. 

5. In the first period of reproduction everything is opposed to 
the social spirit. The male and the female flee from their fellows, 
retire aside, and recognise only themselves. The instinct which 



248 THE MONIST. 

presides at this period is egoistic to excess : the male must possess 
his female. Before reproduction he beats her when she does not 
yield with alacrity to his desires ; afterwards he continues to beat her 
to assure himself of her being absolutely his. The solitaries are every- 
where the most unsociable and the farthest removed from the family 
spirit even in those species where the adult males remain with their 
females. Nevertheless, they are the most ardent in the period of 
rut. In the second period, of brooding or gestation, when the male 
and the female have separated, both may enter the group of which 
they form parts ; in the mammals the female never misses doing 
so. But when they remain together, the preceding situation is pro- 
tracted, although it is less animal in form ; they form a couple by 
themselves, have common joys, and experience no desire for com- 
rades. In the third period two cases again are presented. When 
the family deprived of the male is maternal, at times the mother 
takes refuge in the general social group, seeking its protection, and 
at times she remains apart with her young who fill her whole ex- 
istence. When the family, on the other hand, is paternal-maternal, 
the mother, satisfied with having a protector for herself and her 
young, has no other desire, while the father also is happy in the 
task which he fulfils. The happiness and egoism of two, which we 
observe in the preceding periods, have become the happiness and 
egoism of three. They are indifferent to everything which is not 
themselves. Nothing could be more contrary to the social spirit. 
Towards the end, however, the male gets surfeited with his task, 
wanders away more and more, and finally rejoins his companions, 
when his social instinct carries the day over his family instinct. At 
other times, when the young are definitively emancipated, he keeps 
on with the habits which he has acquired with his consort : family 
love disappears, conjugal love is left. They remain together, and 
the year following, throughbut their whole life, they begin over 
again their romance of love and of family life. It is still the egoism 
of two individuals. The gain of this egoism is the loss of the social 
spirit. 

So much for the monogamous family. Is it the same with the 
polygamous family ? Let us explain first what is meant by the 



SCIENCE AND FAITH. 249 

word polygamy. It is applied vaguely to the three periods of re- 
production and differs from promiscuity, which is sometimes im- 
properly used. Promiscuity is free copulation, each one of the two 
sexes indulging in the function with equal rights and according to 
its caprice. It is divided into polygamy for the male and polyandry 
for the female. Polyandry is rare among animals ; the infidelities 
committed by the female are less rare, but they are not uncommon. 
Generally the female gives herself absolutely for a whole season, 
and as a rule gives herself to one only. The male in polygamy does 
not give himself, he takes the females, and considers himself, so 
long as he is not satiated, as their master. If he remains polygamous 
in the second period, it is because he maintains his rights of pro- 
prietorship, and if he remains polygamous in the third, it is because 
he still maintains them by including the infants which "are the issues 
of his females. But polygamy in the first period by no means de- 
termines his conduct in the second and third. A male may have an 
entire harem in the first and yet subsequently attach himself to but 
one female, discharging the duties of a father only with the infants 
of the latter, in a word, may be monogamous. Example, the little 
bustaid or Tetrax. The opposite case is presented by the great 
bustard or Otis. The male has but one female, but as soon as this 
one has laid and has begun to brood, he goes in search of another 
and thus founds several families. In short, the polygamy whose 
influence we are here examining is not that of the first period, which 
is mere licentiousness, functional incontinence, as in the turkey 
and the goat, but that of the third period as in the seal or the 
elephant. 

The conjugal and family ties are looser and consequently, as 
we have seen, less egotistical and less anti-social, according as they 
are more removed from monogamy. The more females and infants 
a family comprises, the more the total store of affection, attention, 
and protection of which the male is capable is weakened and dis- 
persed. The more this family resembles a harem or a herd of which 
the male is sultan or chief, the more is it comparable to a little so- 
ciety under the conduct of a single leader. It is very difficult in 
the accounts of travellers to distinguish the simple numerous family 



250 THE MONIST. 

from the troop or herd of small dimensions. In the Ungulata, the 
polygamous family often comprises the young of two or three years, 
although a little later when they have become capable of reproduc- 
tion their parents usually drive them away. But in other cases, as 
in the elephant, the young remain in the troop, procreate there, or 
more probably abandon the troop temporarily to return to it again 
with their young, with the result that in the end the herd is con- 
sanguineous and formerly often embraced as many as a hundred or 
two hundred members. It is certain that some societies of monkeys 
are simply augmented families of this kind. 

Are polygamous families more capable than monogamous fam- 
ilies of forming what Espinas calls peuplades, and which we regard 
as societies par excellence ? This is the important point to know. 
Reason answers in the affirmative. Polygamy disperses the senti- 
ment of sympathy, monogamy concentrates it. Polygamy is the 
egoism frequently of from fifteen to twenty individuals ; monogamy 
is the egoism of three. We have seen numerous instances of po- 
lygamous families associating, as in the Tarpan and the buffalo ; 
we have also seen monogamous families, as in the reindeer. But 
it is my opinion that the former are the most frequent. 

We shall take it for granted, then, that polygamy tends more 
strongly to the formation of animal societies, than monogamy, 
although it is a lower form of family than the latter. A last reason 
tells us so. The family of three is a narrowed individuality, inter- 
mediary between the individual proper and social collectivity. The 
family of ten or twenty is a large and diffuse individuality, also in- 
termediary but approaching to collectivity. 

It remains to be seen whether, viewing the instrumentality of 
the young alone, the family favors the formation of society. We 
have seen, and only the fear of being too prolix has prevented us 
from dwelling upon it, that the young are invariably controlled by 
a single dominating tendency the desire of getting out of their 
nests as soon as possible, of giving free vent to their activity, and 
of emancipating themselves, while braving unknown dangers and 
forgetting their parents. But we have also seen that they are pos- 
sessed of a powerful impulse to play and to tease one another, to 



SCIENCE AND FAITH. 25! 

cry out and to compete in song, even meeting from time to time in 
some common place for this purpose. To have comrades is a neces- 
sity with them. There exist, thus, two contradictory tendencies. 
The result in the young varies with the species, but in general the 
more the family state is prolonged the stronger does the habit of 
living together grow ; the more they are conscious of their weak- 
ness, the more easily is their food obtained, as in the Herbivora, 
and the more they yield to the desire of being together ; whilst 
under opposite conditions they abandon themselves readily to their 
instinct of liberty and of egoism. Nevertheless, small groups of 
young are formed for hunting in concert among the Carnivora ; but 
occasionally more extensive groups, afterwards rallying to a general 
flock, are found among the Ungulata. 

However a third factor is bound to intervene some day in the 
case of the young, which puts an end to their inclinations either for 
independence or for life in common the arrival of puberty. Birds 
or mammals, all surrender themselves to the sexual instinct ; the 
solidest ties are broken and the accomplishment of the first act of 
reproduction takes precedence over everything. 

It is certain, however, that the spirit of sociability is most de- 
veloped in the young who have not yet attained puberty, that it is 
maintained fairly well after trie first rut and even after the first 
family state, and that it then wanes and quickly drops to zero in the 
aged n^ales. "Solitaries" are met with in the most sociable spe- 
cies. They are the old males who have spontaneously abandoned 
life in common or have been expelled from the troop because they 
were grouty and ill-natured. Age is a factor which must be taken 
into account, both as regards family and as regards society, when 
a given species is to be judged. So for the rest there is sometimes 
wide variations of character, manners, and conduct within the same 
species. Two travellers may have expressed different opinions and 
yet both have made correct observations. In many cases it is the 

mean that has to be sought. 

* 
* * 

To adhere faithfully to the plan which we sketched at the out- 
set, whether it be right or wrong, it remains for us to compare 



252 THE MONIST. 

rapidly, not all the forms of association which the vertebrates have 
presented, but the highest among them, those which best merit the 
name of societies, with the associations 1 or colonies of lower and 
intermediary invertebrates. 

1. Colonies form a whole, morphologically continuous in all 
their parts and at all the epochs of their evolution. Societies form 
diffuse wholes, having a virtual tie only. 

2. Colonies tend towards a perfectly definite end, that of mul- 
tiplying animal forms in time and on the surface of our planet, that 
of creating new organisms, more and more complex, at the expense 
of prior simple organisms. This end is wanting entirely in socie- 
ties. However far solidarity may be carried it is impossible to con- 
ceive of a society becoming a new organism or being of any kind. 
What other end of evolution does it pursue? 

As I take it, evolution has no end. It proceeds at random, es- 
says and realises everything that it can, as we have before said, and 
scoffs at our teleological speculations. Nevertheless, it cannot be 
denied that among its various operations, regressive, indifferent, and 
progressive, we are most vividly struck by those which best suc- 
ceed, by those which engender that admirable harmony revealed 
by philosophers and lauded by poets. Progressive evolution fol- 
lows one direction the best by comparison with what has preceded, 
the best for the species, considering the conditions in which its lot 
is cast. One of these best, as physics and economics have^taught 
us, is the maximum output with a given instrument or organism. 
We have seen that for the functions of reproduction, progress, 
amidst attempts of all kinds, has always tended in this direction. 
Among the fishes we had quantity, but the majority perished ; in 
the higher mammals we had quality, that is, a less number with 
survival assured. As to the functions of outward life, the same end 
has been set. Creatures were multiplied in superabundance ; what 
was required was that they should become perfected, that the spe- 
cies should individually yield the maximum output, that is to say, 

1 Evolution has other ways of forming or developing metazoans of increasing 
degrees of complexity. But the method by organic association is the most widely 
diffused and the only one which relates to our subject. 



SCIENCE AND FAITH. 253 

that they should exhibit the maximum of activity, of enjoyment, of 
prosperity, and of well-being. Hence resulted the process of virtual 
association among demes which evolution follows by habit, and 
which leads to the strengthening of the ties between the individuals 
of a species, to their living better, and to the bestowal upon them 
of more power. By the family, evolution ended in better progeny; 
by society, it ended in a greater amplitude of life for the species. 

The two first differences, in fine, create an abyss between col- 
onies and societies. Comparison seems impossible. But let us 
continue. 

3. In colonies aggregation at first acts by adhesion between 
individuals which have come from without or are the issue of a 
common mother; growth is effected by gemmation; total repro- 
duction by the separation of one part, the rest perishing. 

In societies aggregation acts by exterior adhesions or by con- 
sanguinity ; growth by a sort of hypergenesis ; reproduction by the 
separation of a part or swarm, the remainder continuing to live. 
The parallel is difficult. 

4. In colonies division and specialisation of labor are promptly 
established and more and more accentuated. The individuals form 
groups which become organs, each concurring within the limits of 
its specialty in the fulfilment of the general wants. In societies it 
is the same, each individual is specialised, groups are formed, that 
is to say, categories ; some are favored, others are sacrificed ; a 
hierarchy is established. This is the feature of formal resemblance 
and one which should be emphasised. 

5. In colonies the individuals preserve their independence only 
for a short time. They almost immediately make concessions to 
their neighbors, then to groups, and finally to the colony entire ; so 
much so that their individuality becomes entirely absorbed, and 
they retain no other functions than that of cog-wheels in a great 
machine. In societies a certain sacrifice of individual independence 
is also required. The social state is an exchange of concessions ; 
we give in order to receive. But there is a limit ; one always pre- 
serves the greatest part of one's individuality ; one is not bound to 



254 THE MONIST. 

suffer oneself to be absorbed, whatever be the degree of solidarity. 
This difference is profound. 

6. Colonies are presented in the invertebrates in all periods 
from simple assemblages of individuals with scarcely any adhesion 
up to complete and absolute solidarisation. We may reduce them 
hypothetically to three periods. In the first, the individuals still 
remain their own masters, they lead their own life, and the colonial 
whole is but their numerical sum. In the second, they have lost 
half of their individuality, and the colonial whole possesses the 
other half. In the third, the individuals no longer count as such ; 
they are subordinated to the colonial whole, which wields all the 
power and all the initiative. In which of these three periods would 
animal societies fall, on the supposition that we are obliged to class 
them with colonies, and that we admit they will develop like them 
in the course of time and in the ascending mammalian scale ? In 
the first, with traces of a tendency here and there towards the 
second. 

In fine, the classing of colonies with societies, which the pos- 
itivists hold as proper, is a pure fiction, although in some points 
resemblances exist. If certain laws are applicable to like phenom- 
ena in the two orders of association, it is because the grand laws of 
nature are universal in character and relate as well to sociological 
or biological facts as to physical, chemical, or astronomical. The 
plain truth is this : the variously graded associations called colon- 
ies are morphological ; the associations between demes are virtual. 
The first create new species, the second perfect them, extend and 
develop all that they can produce. Will this evolution culminate 
in the greatest intrinsic good of this or of that species, or in its 
complete annihilation by very excess of vitality ? That is the secret 
of time. It remains to be learned whether man is situated in this 
regard the same as the other animals, whether his peculiar attri- 
butes do not transform the situation, and whether consequently he 
will not suggest some modifications of the outlooks gained in the 
present study. 

P. TOPINARD. 

PARTS. 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF BUDDHISM. 

ORIGINAL DUALISM. 

Buddhism originated, as all religions do, from the desire to 
escape the transiency of life with its incidental vicissitudes and to 
attain the permanent and enduring bliss of an undisturbed exist- 
ence where there is no pain, no disease, no death, no incertitudes of 
any kind. As soon as the prevalence of suffering was recognised as 
an inalienable condition of bodily existence the first attempt at ob- 
taining deliverance from evil was naturally made by a mortification 
of the body for the sake of benefiting the soul. The body was looked 
upon as the source of all misery, and a purely spiritual existence was 
the ideal in which religious men set their hope of salvation. The 
body is doomed to die, and was therefore considered as an animated 
corpse. Our material existence is a body of death of which man 
must rid himself before he can obtain the deathless state. Thus 
we read in the story of Sumedha, which serves as an introduction 
to the Jatakas: 

" Even as a man might rid him of 
A horrid corpse bound to his neck, 
And then upon his way proceed, 
Joyous, and free, and unconstrained ; 

" So must I likewise rid me of 
This body foul, this charnel-house, 
And go my way without a care, 
Or least regret for things behind. 

11 As men and women rid them of 
Their dung upon the refuse heap, 



256 THE MONIST. 

And go their ways without a care, 
Or least regret for what they leave ; 

' ' So will I likewise rid me of 
This body foul, this charnel-house, 
And go my way as if I had 
Cast out my filth into the draught." 1 

Sumedha says : 

" What misery to be born again ! 
And have the flesh dissolve at death ! 

" Subject to birth, old age, disease, 
Extinction will I seek to find, 
Where no decay is ever known, 
Nor death, but all security." 2 

The ideal of Buddhahood, accordingly, was in its original shape 
the attainment of a purely spiritual condition which it was hoped 
would afford a perfect emancipation from suffering. It was the same 
yearning as that of the early Christians, expressed in St. Paul's 
words : 

1 ' O wretched man that I am ! who shall deliver me from the body of this 
death ? " 

Even Luther, with whom the monistic era of Christianity be- 
gins, speaks of his body with the utmost contempt. The term 
Madensack, i. e., a bag full of food for grubs, is a favorite expres- 
sion of his. 

The religious problem, as it presented itself to the ascetic Gau- 
tama before he had attained to Buddhahood, was formulated on 
dualistic principles, but his final solution rested upon a monistic 
basis. We know little of his philosophical evolution and the phases 
through which he passed ; but the outcome is unequivocal in all 
important questions that form decisive test-issues as to the char- 
acter of his system. He was tolerant and showed extreme pa- 
tience with all kinds of mythologies, even utilising the supersti- 

1 H. C. Warren, in his Buddhism in Translations, pp. 7-8. See also the pas- 
sage quoted from Chapter VI. of the Visuddhi-Magga, p. 300. 
*J6id., p. 6. 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF BUDDHISM. 257 

tions of his age to the enhancement of his religion, but he was mer- 
ciless in his rejection of metaphysicism and dualism. 

ANTI-METAPHYSICAL. 

After Buddha had surrendered the old dualism, the traditional 
formulation of philosophical problems lost their meaning ; they 
became what we now call illegitimate questions ; and whenever 
Buddha was confronted with such illegitimate questions, he either 
refused to answer them or declared openly : "The question is not 
rightly put." 1 , His refusal to answer such questions, which on his 
plane of thought had become unmeaning and irrelevant, nay, 
even misleading, can be interpreted as agnosticism, or as a dodge 
and attempt at straddling, only by those who utterly misconceive 
the spirit of Buddha's doctrines. When bored with questions by 
a wandering ascetic, one of those frivolous wranglers who dispute 
merely for the sake of discussion, Buddha refuses to answer, but 
when afterwards Ananda accosts his master he explains why the 
wandering ascetic received no reply. The reason is here again 
the error involved in the wrong formulation of the question. Thus 
if he had replied in the negative, saying that the atman does not sur- 
vive death, the wandering ascetic would have said "the Buddha 
teaches that there is no after-life" ; and if he had replied in the af- 
firmative, saying that the atman survives death, the implication 
would have been that Buddha believed with the Vedanta philoso- 
phers in the existence of an atman. 

Buddha's monism is not materialism ; he does not identify soul 
and body, he only denies the separate existence of soul-entities. 
There is soul and there is body. There are consciousness-forms 
and bodily-forms, and both are changing and developing, both are 
subject to growth and decay. The body is dissolved, and con- 
sciousness passes away, yet their forms reappear in new incarna- 
tions. There is death and rebirth, and there is continuity of life 
with its special and individual types. If the soul were identical 
with the body, it would perish with it ; if it were a distinct entity 
and an immutable atman, it would not be affected by conduct and 

1 See, for instance, Warren, Buddhism in Translations, pp. 167 and 312. 



258 THE MONIST. 

there would be no use in leading a holy life. In either case there 
is no need of seeking religion. Buddha's solution is, that there are 
not two things (i) an atman and (2) the deeds performed by the 
atman, but there is one thing a soul-activity (karma), which 
operates by a continuous preservation of its deed-forms or sam- 
skaras, which are the dispositions produced by the various func- 
tions of karma. There is not a being that is born, acts, enjoys 
itself, suffers and dies and is reborn to die again ; but simply birth, 
action, enjoyment, suffering, and death take place. The life-activ- 
ity, the deeds, the karma, the modes of motion in aW their peculiar 
forms, alone are real : they are preserved and nothing else. Man's 
soul consists of the memory-forms, or dispositions, produced by 
former karmas. There is no self in itself, no separate atman ; the 
self consists in the deed-forms, and every creature is the result of 
deeds. 

The disciples propose to the Blessed One in the Samyutta- 
Nikdya this question : 

1 ' Reverend Sir, what are old age and death ? and what is it has old age and 
death?" 

The Blessed One replies : 

"The question is not rightly put. O priest, to say : 'What are old age and 
death ? and what is it has old age and death ? ' and to say : ' Old age and death are 
one thing, but it is another thing which has old age and death,' is to say the same 
thing in different ways. 

"If, O priest, the dogma obtain that the soul and the body are identical, then 
there is no religious life ; or if, O priest, the dogma obtain that the soul is one 
thing and the body another, then also there is no religious life. Both these ex- 
tremes, O priest, have been avoided by the Tathagata, and it is a middle doctrine 
he teaches : 'On birth depend old age and death.'" (Buddhism in Translations, 
p. 167.) 

PERSONALITY. 

But considering the practical importance of personal effort in 
moral endeavor, how can the denial of the existence of a separate 
self as the condition of personality be useful in religion ? 

The answer is, that the denial of the existence of a separate 
self, an atman, is not a denial of the real self such as it actually ex- 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF BUDDHISM. 259 

ists in man's personality. There is no chariot in itself, but there 
are chariots ; there are no persons in themselves, but there are per- 
sons. Buddha does not intend to wipe out the personalities of man, 
but only the false notion of the metaphysical character of person- 
ality. Not only did Buddha always endeavor to adapt his teachings 
to different personalities, but we find generally in Buddhism as 
much stress laid upon the personal relation of a disciple to the 
master, as by Luther, who used to say that "it is not enough for 
a Christian to know that Jesus Christ is the Saviour, he must expe- 
rience the fact in his heart and must be able to say, 'Jesus Christ 
has come to save me individually.' "* 

There is a similar aspiration in Buddhism, which Buddha- 
gosha, in his comments on the Dhammapada, expresses as follows: 

"Now when a Supreme Buddha teaches the Doctrine, those in front and those 
behind, and those beyond a hundred or a thousand worlds, and those even who in- 
habit the abode of the Sublime Gods, exclaim : ' The Teacher is looking at me; 
The Teacher is teaching the Doctrine to me.' To each one it seems as if the 
Teacher were beholding and addressing him alone. The Buddhas, they say, re- 
semble the moon : as the moon in the midst of the heavens appears to every living 
being as if over his head, so the Buddhas appear to every one as if standing in 
front of him." {Buddhism in Translations, p. 470.) 

Far from being an obliteration of individuality, the denial 
of the atman actually involves a liberation of individuality from 
an error that is liable to stunt all mental growth and hinder man's 
free development. Buddha takes out of life the vanity of self, which 
is based upon the dualism of atman and karma as separate realities. 
There is no need of bothering about an atman, but it is important 
to be mindful, thoughtful, and energetic in all that a man under- 
takes and does, for the karma is the stuff of which a man is made. 
One's own personal endeavor and achievements constitute one's 
; personality, and this personality is preserved beyond death, as we 

read : 

"But every deed a man performs 

With body, or with voice, or mind, 

"Darum ist's nicht genug, dass einer glaubt, es sei Gott, Christus habe ge- 
litten., u. dergl., sondern er muss festiglich glauben, dass Gott ihm zur Seligkeit 
ein Gott sei, dass Christus fur ihn gelitten habe, etc." (Quoted by Kostlin in his 
Luther's Theologie.} Similar passages are frequent in Luther's writings. 



260 THE MONIST. 

'Tis this that he can call his own, 
This with him take as he goes hence. 
This is what follows after him 
And like a shadow ne'er departs." 1 

These lines have reference to the parable of the man whom 
his family, his friends, and his property leave when he is cited be- 
fore the judge, while his good deeds alone follow him through 
the gate of death and plead for him. Speaking without allegory, 
we ought to say that the deeds, or rather the deed-forms, are the 
man himself. 

There is no duality of a doer and his doings, a thinker and his 
thoughts, an enjoyer and his enjoyments, a sufferer and his suffer- 
ings, an aspirer and his aspirations. There is not an atman that 
performs karma; but there is karma which, wherever incarnated 
in an individual group, appears as an atman. The words doer, 
agent, enjoyer, etc., are mere modes of speech. The realities of soul- 
life consist in doings, thoughts, sufferings, enjoyments, and aspira- 
tions. Actions take place, and the peculiar form of every action is 
preserved as an analogous disposition to repeat that same action in 
the shape of memory-structures ; and all living beings start life as 
the summed-up memory of their deeds in former existences. 

THE DEATHLESS. 

There is no atman-soul ; accordingly there is no transmigration 
of an atman-soul ; yet there is rebirth : there is a reincarnation of 
the ancestral karma by a preservation and reproduction of the soul- 
forms transmitted from generation to generation. 

Here we must make a distinction between pure forms and ma- 
terialised forms. By the pure form of a right-angled triangle we 
mean the mathematical conception in its abstract and absolute dis- 
tinctness. The relations of the angles and sides are definite condi- 
tions of unalterable rigidity. They can be formulated in theories 
which are readily recognised as eternal verities. The materialist 
who believes that material bodies alone are real, would say that 
pure forms are non-existent, but the mathematician knows that a 

1 Buddhism in Translations, p. 228. 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF BUDDHISM. 261 

right-angled triangle is a definite actuality which, whenever an 
occasion arises, will manifest itself with unfailing exactness. Mani- 
festations of right-angled triangles take place in materialised forms, 
by which we mean some single drawing made in ink, pencil, or 
chalk, or a relation obtaining somehow among three points repre- 
sented by the centres of stars or indicated by rays of light. The 
actualisation of a pure form may be more or less perfect, but it 
always exemplifies the laws of pure form and is, so to speak, its 
incarnation. In this sense Plato speaks of ideas as being above 
time and space, and Schiller sings of the higher realm of pure 
forms : 

' ' In den hoheren Regionen 
Wo die reinen Formen wohnen." 

For ethical considerations man must learn to identify himself, 
not with the materialisation of his thought and aspirations, but 
with their forms ; for the former are transient, the latter eternal. 
He must let go all attachment to the special and particular embodi- 
ment in which his soul appears. He must find his anchorage in 
that which cannot be destroyed but will last for ever and aye. The 
pure forms of his soul-being must be understood as possessing him, 
they shape his brain, the nervous structures of his thoughts, the 
i materialised forms of his sentiments and aspirations; they domi- 
nate his life, his energies, his everything, but not vice versa: his 
bodily incarnation does not lord it over the eternal type which in 
him becomes manifest. The material elements do not possess the 
directing faculty, for direction is a formal principle. 

In this sense Christ existed since eternity as the divine Logos 
and became flesh in Jesus ; and Buddha descended from the Tusita 
Heaven to earth for the purpose of being incarnated in the son of 
Maya. In this same sense Buddhists speak of attaining to the 
Bodhi, i. e. enlightenment or Buddhahood, which implies that the 
Bodhi existed before Gautama found it. In the same sense, the 
right-angled triangle and its law existed before Pythagoras; he did 
not invent the theorem that bears his name : he discovered it. The 
idea of a right-angled triangle with all its essential relations dawned 
upon him, became incarnated in him, manifested itself in him. 



202 THE MONIST. 

But here we must pause a moment, for here lies a difficulty 
which has greatly embarrassed the translators of Buddhist scrip- 
tures. The Pali word rupa means "form," but it is frequently 
used in the sense of materialised iorm (rupa kayo}, not only in the 
sense of pure form ; indeed, it must sometimes be translated by 
body. Thus that which Plato and Schiller would call pure form is 
in Pali called ar&po? "that which is without rupa, the bodiless," 
commonly translated "the formless." 

We read in the Buddhist scriptures that the attainment of Nir- 
vana is not possible unless we comprehend "the formless," which 
is the unmaterial, the eternal, the deathless. This deathless, this 
immaterial, this " formless," or rather this eternal realm of pure 
form the arupaloco is not an essence, not an entity, not an individ- 
ual being or a personal deity ; it has no special dwelling, nor is it 
a locality, or a heavenly abode ; and yet it is the most important 
truth to be known. 

"There is, O disciples, something not-born, not-originated, not-made, not- 
formed. If, O disciples, there were not this not-born, not-originated, not-made, 
not-formed, there would be no escape for the born, the originated, the made, the 
formed." Uddna, VIII., 3. 

The deathless is a mere nothing, if "nothing" means absence 
of materiality, and yet it is the most important factor of life, for it 
makes enlightenment possible and is the condition of salvation. In 
the Majjhima Nik&ya (Sutta 26), in which Buddha declares that 
"the deathless has been gained," the theory is set forth that the 
"Nothing" is not a nonentity, but that it exists; and "of the 
priest who dwells in the realm of nothingness" it is said that "he 
has blinded Mara, made useless the eye of Mara, gone out of sight 
of the Wicked One." 

He who clings to bodily form, i. e., the materialised incarna- 
tion of pure form, and identifies his self with this compound of 
atoms, this aggregation of material elements, is not free from the 
illusion of selfhood ; he has not found the eternal resting place of 



1 Also spelt aruppo and arftpe. The neuter of arupo (arupam) is used as a syn- 
onym of Nirvana. 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF BUDDHISM. 263 

life ; the bliss of Nirvana, the peace of his soul ; he is driven round 
in a whirl of eternal turmoil, in the samsara of worldly interests, in 
aspirations for transient goods. 

He who has attained arupam, the formless, surrenders with it 
all petulancy of self, for jealousy, spite, hatred, pride, envy, con- 
cupiscence, vainglory all these and kindred ambitions have lost 
their sense. He is energetic, but without passion ; he aspires, but 
does not cling; he administers, but does not regard himself an 
owner ; he acquires, but does not covet. This is expressed in the 
Milindapanha^ where we read : 

" Said the king, ' Bhante Nagasena, what is the difference between one who 
has passion and one who is free from passion ? ' 

" ' Your majesty, the one clings, the other does not cling. 1 
" ' Bhante, what do you mean by " clings " and " does not cling " ? ' 
" 'Your majesty, the one covets, the other does not covet. 1 
1 ' ' Bhante, this is the way I look at the matter : both he who has passion and 
he who is free from passion have the same wish, that his food, whether hard or soft, 
should be good ; neither wishes for what is bad.' 

11 'Your majesty, he that is not free from passion experiences both the taste of 
that food, and also passion due to that taste, while he who is free from passion ex- 
periences the taste of that food, but no passion due to that taste.' " 

THE MIDDLE DOCTRINE. 

Buddha calls his solution of the psychological problem the 
middle doctrine, because it avoids both extremes of what, in the 
terms of the schoolmen, may be called extreme Realism and ex- 
treme Nominalism. Buddha denies that there are things in them- 
selves of any kind. Compounds have no existence outside their 
parts, and man, like other things, animals, plants, chariots, worlds, 
etc., is a compound. There is no self in man as a separate entity. 
Self denotes the whole man. He who says compounds are things 
in themselves is mistaken, but he who denies the existence of com- 
pounds, he who proclaims the doctrine of non-existence is mistaken 
also. Compounds are real enough, the relation among things and 
their interaction are not mere illusions. While there are no things 

1 Quoted from Henry Clarke Warren, Buddhism in Translations, p. 421. See 
also Sacred Books of the East, XXXV., p. 119. 



264 THE MONIST. 

in themselves, there are forms in themselves. Buddhagosha ar- 


gues in the Visudhi-Magga, Chap. XVIII. : 

"Just as the word 'chariot' is but a mode of expression for axle, wheels, 
chariot-body, pole, and other constituent members, placed in a certain relation to 
each other, but when we come to examine the members one by one, we discover 
that in the absolute sense there is no chariot ; and just as the word ' house ' is but 
a mode of expression for wood and other constituents of a house, surrounding space 
in a certain relation, but in the absolute sense there is no house ; and just as the 
word ' fist ' is but a mode of expression for the fingers, the thumb, etc. , in a certain 
relation ; and the word ' lute ' for the body of the lute, strings, etc., ' army ' for ele- 
phants, horses, etc. ; ' city' for fortifications, houses, gates, etc. ; 'tree' for trunk, 
branches, foliage, etc., in a certain relation, but when we come to examine the 
parts one by one, we discover that in the absolute sense there is no tree ; in exactly 
the same way the words ' living entity ' and ' atman ' are but a mode of expression 
for the presence of the five attachment groups, but when we come to examine the 
elements of being one by one, we discover that in the absolute sense there is no liv- 
ing entity there to form a basis for such figments as ' I am 'or ' I ' ; in other words, 
that in the absolute sense there is onlv name and form. The insight of him who per- 
ceives this is called knowledge of the truth." {Ibid., p. 133.) 

As soon as we abandon the middle doctrine and assume the 
existence of a self which is supposed to be an entity that is in pos- 
session of all the parts of a compound, we must either assume that 
this entity after the dissolution of its parts will persist or that it 
will perish ; and both views are erroneous because they start from 
a wrong premise. He who imagines that his self is immortal is 
mistaken and will cherish foolish ideas as to the mode and place of 
its future residence. But he who thinks that his self will perish is 
not less mistaken ; he is unnecessarily afraid of death, for there is 
no self that can perish. Both propositions are senseless, because 
based on the illusions of either an extreme realism or an extreme 
nominalism. 

He who sees things as they really are ceases to cleave to ex- 
istence ; he does not think that sensation or thought or any one of 
the aggregates is the atman, but for that reason his personality is 
not wiped out. 

" He ceases to attach himself to anything in the world, and being free from 
attachment, he is never agitated, and being never agitated, he attains to Nirvana 
in his own person." (L. c., p. 137.) 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF BUDDHISM. 265 



NOT A DOCTRINE OF ANNIHILATION. 

If man is "name and form" and no self in itself, the proposi- 
tion seems to suggest itself that death ends all ; but the doctrine of 
annihilation is not countenanced by any of the orthodox Buddhists. 
We read in the Samyutta Nikaya (XXII., 85) : 

"Now at that time the following wicked heresy had sprung up in the mind of 
a priest named Yamaka : ' Thus do I understand the doctrine taught by the Blessed 
One, that on the dissolution of the body the priest who has lost all depravity is an- 
nihilated, perishes, and does not exist after death.' " (L. c., p. 138.) 

And a number of priests who had heard the report drew near 
and said : 

"Say not so, brother Yamaka. Do not traduce the Blessed One ; for it is not 
well to traduce the Blessed One. The Blessed One would never say that on the 
dissolution of the body the saint who has lost all depravity is annihilated, perishes, 
and does not exist after death." (Ibid.) 

Then Shariputra instructs Yamaka by teaching him that there 
is no such a being as a saint or a man in himself, for all his con- 
stituents are transitory and cannot be regarded as his atman or 
enduring self ; the saint is not bodily form, not sensation, not per- 
ception, not any of the predispositions, not consciousness. How 
then can the saint be annihilated in death? All the constituents of 
the saint depend upon causation, but holiness and enlightenment 
are the deathless state which is not touched by death. The Visud- 
dhi-Magga comprises this doctrine in these four lines, which sound 
almost paradoxical : 

1 ' Misery only doth exist, none miserable. 
No doer is there ; naught save the deed is found. 
Nirvana is, but not the man who seeks it. 
The Path exists, but not the traveller on it." 1 

And is Nirvana non-existence? Not at all. It is the attain- 
ment of the deathless state, of immateriality, of pure form, of 
eternal verity, of the immutable and enduring, where there is neither 

1 L. c., p. 146. 



266 THE MONIST. 

birth nor death, neither disease nor old age, neither affliction nor 
misery, neither temptation nor sin. 

"'Wherein does Nirvdna consist?' And to him, whose mind was already 
averse to passion, the answer came : ' When the fire of lust is extinct, that is Nir- 
veina ; when the fires of hatred and infatuation are extinct, that is Nirvana ; when 
pride, false belief, and all other passions and torments are extinct, that is Nirvana." 
(L. c., p. 59.) 

He who attains Nirvana continues to exist in his personal iden- 
tity as pure form of a definite character, but he is without any trace 
of clinging to a particular incarnation. Thus he is no more re- 
incarnated in any special individual, and this is the sense in which 
Buddha has passed away and yet continues to exist in his bodiless 
personality, as we read in the Milindapanha 1 : 

" The king said : ' Is there such a person as the Buddha, Nagasena ? ' 

"'Yes.' 

1 ' ' Can he then, Nagasena, be pointed out as being here and there ? ' 

" ' The Blessed One, O king, has passed away by that kind of passing away in 
which nothing remains which could tend to the formation of another individual. 
It is not possible to point out the Blessed One as being here or there.' " 

THE CONQUEST OF DEATH. 

The surrender of the self-illusion with its pretensions brings us 
practically to the same maxim of life which St. Paul sets forth in 
i Cor., vii., 29-30 : 

"But this I say, brethren, the time is short : it remaineth, that both they that 
have wives be as though they had none. 

" And they that weep, as though they wept not ; and they that rejoice, as 
though they rejoiced not ; and they that buy, as though they possessed not." 

This view does not lead to the neglect of the body, but to its 
being subservient to higher ends and a nobler cause. The Buddha 
compares the body to a wound which we nurse although we do not 
love it. Nagasena says : 

1 ' They who have retired from the world take care of their bodies as though 
they were wounds, without thereby becoming attached to them. (Buddhism in 
Translations, p. 423. Compare Sacred Books of the East, XXXV., p. 115.) 

1 See Sacred Books of the East, XXXV., pp. 113-114. 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF BUDDHISM. 267 

All vicissitudes and afflictions affect the bodily incarnation, not 
the eternal soul, the pure form or the arupam, or bodiless, i. e., that 
which is without rupa ; and thus the Samyutta Nikaya declares that 
the saint may be "wretched of body" but can never be "wretched 
of mind." The actuality of the world, the material reality of exist- 
ence, the samsara is absolutely void of permanency. All is tran- 
sient and nothing endures. Therefore he who sets his heart on 
anything of the world or its various realisations of form, is sure to 
suffer ; while he who has understood the emptiness of all mate- 
rial existence seeks refuge in the eternal Nirvana, the domain of 
eternal verities which, in comparison to bodily realisations, consti- 
tute the Void, the Nothing, the existence-less. The eternal veri- 
ties are immanent in all reality and condition its evolution ; they 
are the aim and purpose of life ; they are, to use Goethe's words, 
"the unattainable of which all actual things are but symbols." 
They are the nothingness of which we read in the Majjhima Nikdya 
(Sutta 26), that he who dwells in it is "out of the reach of Mara," 
the Evil One. 

"He has blinded Mara, made useless the eye of Mara, gone out of sight of the 
Wicked One." (Il>., p. 348.) 

An ancient Pali verse (preserved in the Udana, IV., 4) char- 
acterises this condition as follows : 

"The man whose mind, like to a rock, 
Unmoved stands, and shaketh not ; 
Which no delights can e'er inflame, 
Or provocations rouse to wrath 
O, whence can trouble come to him, 
Who thus hath nobly trained his mind P" 1 

The belief in self, a separate soul-entity or atman, is the most 
serious obstacle to the attainment of the eternal and deathless, be- 
cause the thought of self infuses all creatures with fear of dissolu- 
tion as well as a desire for this particular and special copy of its 
own eternal being. The Visudhi-Magga (the Book on the Path of 
Purity) dwells on the subject in Chapter XXL, where we read : 

* Buddhism in Translations, p. 315. 



268 THE MON1ST. 

" To one who considers them [the constituents of being] in the light of their 
transitoriness, the constituents of being seem perishable. To one who considers 
them in the light of their misery, they seem frightful. To one who considers 
them in the light of their want of an Ego, they seem empty. 

"He who considers them [the constituents of being] in the light of their 
transitoriness abounds in faith and obtains the tinconditioned deliverance ; he who 
considers them in the light of their misery, abounds in tranquillity and obtains the 
desireless deliverance ; he who considers them in the light of their want of an Ego, 
abounds in knowledge and obtains the empty deliverance." (Ib., p. 379.) 

This is said to explain the stanza : 

"Behold how empty is the world, 
Mogharaja ! In though tfulness 
Let one remove belief in self 
And pass beyond the realm of death. 
The king of death can never find 
The man who thus the world beholds." 1 

MODERN PSYCHOLOGY. 

The world has been greatly astonished in these latter years by 
the results reached by modern psychologists, Herbart, Fechner, 
Weber, Wundt, Ribot, etc., who have arrived at the conclusion 
that there is no soul-being, a theory which received the paradoxical 
name of "a psychology without a soul." The name is misleading, 
for the truth is that modern psychology discards the metaphysical 
conception of the soul only, not the soul itself. The unity of the 
soul has ceased to be a monad, an atomistic unity, and is recognised 
as a unification. The personality of a man is a peculiar idiosyncrasy 
of psychic forms, a system of sensations, impulses, and motor ideas, 
but it is not a monad, not a distinct entity, not a separate unit. In 
a word, there is no soul-entity, or soul-substance, or soul-substra- 
tum, that is possessed of sensations, impulses, and motor ideas ; 
but all the sensations, impulses, and motor ideas of a man are them- 
selves part and parcel of his soul. Mr. Hegeler expresses it by 
saying: "I have not ideas, but I am ideas." 

The modern theory of the soul is not quite new, for it was 
clearly outlined by Kant, who counted the notion of a distinct ego- 
soul as a contradiction, or, as he termed it, one of the paralogisms 

l lb., p. 376. 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF BUDDHISM. 269 

of pure reason. He did not exactly deny the separate existence of 
an ego, by which he understands apperception as a unit, viz., self- 
consciousness, but he proved the inconsistency of the assumption 
and retained the notion only on practical grounds, because he ar- 
gued that the ego-conception is an idea without which ethics would 
fall to the ground. Theoretically he rejected the existence of an 
ego-soul, but for the sake of morality he retained it as a postulate 
of practical reason. 

The ego-soul is nothing but the ancient and famed thing-in- 
itself in the province of psychology. Metaphysicians of the old 
school believe that philosophy consists in the search for the thing- 
in-itself, while the new positivist abandons the idea that there is a 
separate entity behind or within the parts of things. There is no 
watch-in-itself ; but a peculiar combination of wheels and other me- 
chanical contrivances, together with a dial and the movable hands 
on the dial, is called a watch. This is as little a denial of the exist- 
ence of watches as the new psychology is a psychology without a 
soul. Yet the enemies of the new positivism will still insist that the 
denial of things-in-themselves implies a philosophical nihilism. 

But the new psychology is older still than Kant. As the doc- 
trine of a separate soul prevailed in India among the Brahmans, so 
the denial of the existence of a separate soul was pronounced more 
than two thousand years ago by that school of thought which under 
the leadership of the great Shakyamuni grew up in opposition 
to Brahmanism and became known by the name of Buddhism. 
Not only are the similarities that obtain between modern psychol- 
ogy and Buddhism striking, but we meet also with the same mis- 
conceptions and objections. The denial of the existence of a soul- 
entity is supposed to be a denial of the soul and also of its immor- 
tality or its reincarnation. 

PROFESSOR OLDENBERG'S VIEW. 

Among the expounders of Buddhism Professor Oldenberg of 
Kiel ranks high. There are others that are his equal, but there is 
perhaps none who is his superior in scholarship. But with all 
his philological knowledge, the learned Professor is sadly deficient 



270 THE MONIST. 

in philosophical comprehension. He appears absolutely unable to 
grasp the significance of the Buddhistic soul-conception, and since 
his book on Buddha has become a great authority, in Germany 
almost the sole authority, from which our reading public take their 
opinions on Buddhism ready-made, his misconceptions have be- 
come instilled into the minds of European and American thinkers, 
and it will be worth while to point out the deficiencies of his propo- 
sitions. 

H. Dharmapala, the secretary of the Maha-Bodhi Society and 
editor of the MahaBhodi Journal, the official delegate of Ceylonese 
Buddhism to the Chicago Parliament of Religions, wrote sorrow- 
fully to me two years ago : 

" Professor Oldenberg, the erudite scholar, has not grasped the spirit of the 
Dharma. He has translated carefully the Pali words, and that is all. A philolo- 
gist may dissect the root of a Pali word, but it does not make him know the spirit 
of Buddhism." 

I have greatly profited by Professor Oldenberg's researches, 
which, considered as philological lucubrations, are very valuable, 
but I have, after all, felt constrained to adopt Mr. Dharmapala's 
opinion. I have done so, however, not without hesitation, and 
not without having previously tried to reach a satisfactory explana- 
tion of his position. I shall here briefly call attention to his pre- 
sentation of the Buddhist soul-conception and then point out the 
fallacies of his views. Professor Oldenberg says in the chapter en- 
titled "The Soul": 

" It is not incorrect to say that Buddhism denies the existence of soul, but this 
must not be understood in a sense which would in any way give this thought a mate- 
rialistic stamp. It might be said with equal propriety that Buddhism denies the ex- 
istence of the body. The body, and in the same sense the soul also, does not exist 
as distinct and self-sustaining substances, but only as a complex of manifold inter- 
connected processes of origination and decease. Sensations, perceptions, and all 
those processes which make up the inner life, crowd upon one another in motley 
variety ; in the centre of this changing plurality stands consciousness (vififiana), 
which, if the body be compared to a state, may be spoken of as the ruler of this 
state." 1 But consciousness is not essentially different from perceptions and sensa- 

1<( The following passage is often repeated in the sacred texts (e. g., in the 
1 Samanfiaphala Sutta ' ) : ' This is my body, the material, framed out of the four 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF BUDDHISM. 271 

tions, the comings and goings of which it at the same time superintends and regu- 
lates : it is also a Sankhara, and like all other Sankharas, it is changeable and 
without substance." 

Professor Oldenberg adds : 

"We must here divest ourselves wholly of all customary modes of thinking. 
We are accustomed to realise our inner life as a comprehensible factor, only when 
we are allowed to refer its changing ingredients, every individual feeling, every dis- 
tinct act of the will, to one and the same identical ego, but this mode of thinking is 
fundamentally opposed to Buddhism. Here as everywhere it condemns that fixity 
which we are prone to give to the current of incidents that come and go by con- 
ceiving a substance, to or in which they might happen. A seeing, a hearing, a con- 
ceiving, above all a suffering, takes place : but an existence, which may be regarded 
as the seer, the hearer, the sufferer, is not recognised in Buddhist teaching." 
(Buddha. By Dr. Hermann Oldenberg. English Translation, p. 253.) 

This is exactly the same as in modern psychology. The as- 
sumption of a soul-substance has been found to be a perfectly re- 
dundant hypothesis. The soul of man with all its various struct- 
ures, or, as Buddhists would say, "samskaras," is now conceived 
as a product of evolution. Life develops the various sense-organs 
in response to the stimuli of the surrounding world. The function 
of seeing which is a reaction taking place in response to the im- 
pact of the ether-waves of light, results in the appearance of eyes, 
the function of hearing being a reaction in response to the impact 
of the air-waves of sound, produces the ear, and the interaction 
among the senses begets thoughts. The translator of Oldenberg's 
book, Mr. William Hoey, is not happy in his selection of words, 
for he says in the passage quoted : 

' ' Sensations, perceptions, and all the processes which make up the inner life", 
crowd upon one another in motley variety." 

Where Oldenberg speaks of ineinanderstromen (streaming one 
into the other), the expression " motley variety" is a redundant ad- 
dition, and conveys the idea that Buddhistic philosophy regards 

elements, begotten by my father and mother .... but that is my conscious- 
ness, which clings firmly thereto, is joined to it. Like a precious stone, beautiful 
and valuable, octahedral, well polished, clear and pure, adorned with all perfec- 
tion, to which a string is attached, blue or yellow, red or white, or a yellowish 
band." 



272 THE MONIST. 

the soul as a motley crowd of processes. Oldenberg perused the 
manuscript before it went to press, and it is probable that he took 
no offence at the expression ; indeed the context appears to justify 
the translator. We would not hold Oldenberg responsible for mis- 
translations, but English readers know him through the translation 
only, and for their benefit we feel urged to add a few words in ex- 
planation. 

Far from regarding the inter-relations of thoughts and sensa- 
tions as a chance conglomeration, Nagasena, the famous expositor 
of Buddhistic philosophy, makes the very opposite statement 
which in spite of its importance, is nowhere mentioned in Professor 
Oldenberg's work on Buddha. 

We read in the Milindapanha : 

"It is by a process of evolution that the soul-structures (sankharas) come 
to be." 

And this statement is inculcated again and again, not less than 
seven times a strange anticipation of the evolution theory ! And 
then we read that these soul-faculties that originate through evolu- 
tion "are not combined indiscriminately" (I. 6, Sacred Books of the 
East, XXXV., p. 87). "First is sight and then thought/' for "all 
that happens happens through natural slope" (p. 90") "because of 
habit " (pp. 89 and 91) and "on account of an association " (p. 89). 
In the same sense modern psychologists speak of the "path of 
least resistance," and the principle of association is so highly ap- 
preciated that the English , school calls its doctrine the "psy- 
chology of association." There is certainly no justification for such 
a term as " motley variety " in characterising Buddhist psychology. 
On the contrary, we should be astonished at the anticipations of 
the most modern ideas. 

Those who are accustomed to refer all psychic activity to one 
and the same identical ego, must, as Professor Oldenberg says, 
divest themselves of their customary modes of thinking ; and he 
tries hard to do so himself, but he does not succeed. 

The new psychology is, in fact, as much simpler than the old 
one as the Copernican system is simpler than the Ptolemaic sys- 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF BUDDHISM. 273 

tern, but in order to appreciate this truth we must be acquainted 
with the facts. The geocentric astronomy appears natural to him 
who believes that there is an upside and a down, not only on earth, 
but also in the heavens ; and the egocentric psychology is that 
childlike soul-conception which knows nothing of evolution, but as- 
sumes that a stork or other messenger brings into the world at the 
moment of birth a soul, we do not know whence, which soul is 
made the lord of the new-born baby with all his inherited tenden- 
cies. A certain amount of knowledge is necessary to comprehend 
the new views in both sciences, but he who has outgrown his mental 
swaddling clothes will not fail to abandon both the geocentric view 
in astronomy and the egocentric view in psychology. 

VACCHAGOTTA'S QUESTION. 

Professor Oldenberg believes that not only the negation of the 
ego but also the negation of an eternal future must be regarded as 
the correct solution of the Buddhistic dialectic, and he claims that 
this was not openly pronounced by the Buddha because he feared 
to shock the hearts that quailed before the nothing. And yet 
Oldenberg quotes at the same time the passage of the Samyuttaka 
Nik&ya in which the doctrine of annihilation is squarely denounced 
as a heresy. We read : 

" ' At this time a monk named Yamaka had adopted the following heretical no- 
tion : "I understand the doctrine taught by the Exalted One to be this, that a 
monk who is free from sin, when his body dissolves, is subject to annihilation, that 
he passes away, that he does not exist beyond death." ' (Oldenberg, Buddha, 
Engl. ed., p. 281.) 

When Sariputta convinces Yamaka that he does not even in 
this world appreciate the Perfect One, the monk confesses his error 
and he says : 

"'Such, indeed, was hitherto, friend Sariputta, the heretical view which I 
ignorantly entertained. But now when I hear the venerable Sariputta expound the 
doctrine, the heretical view has lost its hold of me, and I have learned the doc- 
trine.' " (/., p. 282.) 

In spite of innumerable passages which prove that Nirvana is 
not annihilation, Oldenberg declares that "the doctrine that there 



274 THE MONIST. 

is no ego is equivalent to the proposition : The Nirvana is anni- 
hilation." Professor Oldenberg adds: 

' ' But we can well understand why these thinkers, who were in a position to 
realise this ultimate consequence and to bear it, abandoned the erection of it as an 
official dogma of the Buddhist order. There were enough, and more than enough 
of hopes and wishes, from which he who desired to follow the Sakya's son, had to 
sever his heart. Why present to the weak the keen edge of the truth : the victor's 
prize of the delivered is the Nothing ? True, it is not permissible to put falsehood 
in the place of truth, but it is allowable to draw a well-meant veil over the picture 
of the truth, the sight of which threatens the destruction of the unprepared. What 
harm did it do ? That which was alone of intrinsic worth and essential to excite 
the struggle for deliverance was maintained in unimpaired force, the certainty that 
deliverance is to be found only where joys and sorrows of this world have ceased. 
Was the emancipation of him, who knew how to free himself from everything tran- 
sitory, not perfect enough ? Would it become more perfect if he were driven to 
acknowledge that beside the transitory there is only the Nothing?" (Ib. , 273, 274.) 

Buddha, it is true, limited himself to that which conduces to 
deliverance, holiness, peace, and enlightenment, and gave no an- 
swer to questioners who were not prepared to understand his doc- 
trine. Thus Oldenberg quotes the following passage from the Sam- 
\uttaka Nikdya : 

" 'Then the wandering monk 1 Vacchagotta went to where the Exalted One 
was staying. When he had come near him he saluted him. When, saluting him, 
he had interchanged friendly words with him, he sat down beside him. Sitting be- 
side him the wandering monk Vacchagotta spake to the Exalted One, saying : 
" How does the matter stand, venerable Gotama, is there the ego (atta) ? " ' 

" When he said this, the Exalted One was silent. 

" ' How, then, venerable Gotama, is there not the ego ? ' 

" And still the Exalted One maintained silence. Then the wandering monk 
Vacchagotta rose from his seat and went away. 

' ' But the venerable Ananda, when the wandering monk Vacchagotta had gone 
to a distance, soon said to the Exalted One : ' Wherefore, sire, has the Exalted One 
not given an answer to the questions put by the wandering monk Vacchagotta ? ' 

" ' If I, Ananda, when the wandering monk Vacchagotta asked me : "Is there 
the ego ? " had answered : "The ego is," then that, Ananda, would have confirmed 
the doctrine of the Samanas and Brahmanas who believe in permanence. If I, 



" l A monk of a non-Buddhistic sect. The dialogue here translated is to be 
found in the Samyuttaka Nikdya, Vol. II., fol. tan. 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF BUDDHISM. 275 

Ananda, when the wandering monk Vacchagotta asked me: "Is there not the 
ego ? " had answered : "The ego is not," then that, Ananda, would have confirmed 
the doctrine of the Samanas and Brahmanas, who believe in annihilation. If I, 
Ananda, when the wandering monk Vacchagotta asked me : "Is there the ego ? " 
had answered : " The ego is," would that have served my end, Ananda, by pro- 
ducing in him the knowledge : all existences (dhamma) are non-ego ? ' 

" ' That it would not, sire.' 

" ' But if I, Ananda, when the wandering monk Vacchagotta asked me : "Is 
there not the ego ? " had answered : "The ego is not," then that, Ananda, would 
only have caused the wandering monk Vacchagotta to be thrown from one bewil- 
derment into another: " My ego, did it not exist before? but now it exists no 
longer." ' 

Oldenberg's interpretation of this passage is as follows : 

' ' We see : the person who has framed this dialogue has in his thought very 
nearly approached the consequence which leads to the negation of the ego. It may 
almost be said that, though probably he did not wish to express this consequence 
with overt consciousness, yet he has in fact expressed it. If Buddha avoids the ne- 
gation of the existence of the ego, he does so in order not to shock a weak-minded 
hearer." (/., 272, 273.) 

Any one who understands the doctrine of modern psychology 
will appreciate Buddha's silence, which is amply explained by 
Buddha's words. Buddha refuses to answer the questions of 
Vacchagotta, but he gives a satisfactory explanation to Ananda. 

It appears that Vacchagotta was a man who exhibited a hope- 
less confusion concerning the fundamental notions of the Buddhist 
psychology. Buddha, it is true, denied the existence of an ego- 
soul ; he denied that that something in man which says "I" can 
be regarded as a metaphysical soul-principle lording it over all the 
faculties of man ; but Buddha does not deny the reality of man's 
actual soul, his sensations and motor ideas ; he does not deny the 
presence of consciousness, nor that there is a psychic structure in 
him that says "I." On the other hand, he does not teach that the 
soul of man (his sankharas) will be annihilated in death. He 
teaches reincarnation, man's soul-structures will reappear, or rather 
they continue to exist after death. They are impressed upon others, 
and there is no annihilation ; they are preserved exactly in the way 
in which they manifested themselves. Thus Vacchagotta's question 



276 THE MON1ST. 

could not be answered with a straightforward Yes or No. A simple 
Yes or No would under all conditions simply have increased the 
questioner's confusion. The question could be answered only after 
a discussion and complete explanation of the meaning of the term 
ego, which for reasons not mentioned in the dialogue the Buddha 
did not see fit to make. Probably he deemed it a waste of time to 
have a controversy with a professional controversialist and there- 
fore refused to accept his challenge. 

Suppose a carpenter's apprentice without education who under- 
stood nothing of mathematics, had approached the late Professor 
Gauss of Gottingen and asked him : "I understand that the Pro- 
fessor denies the reality of circles and lines, that he declares they 
are purely mental, ideal products of imagination, and quite un- 
substantial? Will not the learned Professor answer my question 
squarely and in a straightforward manner, without reserve and with- 
out shirking the issue, Is mathematics substantial or is it not 
substantial?" What would Professor Gauss have said? Had he 
said, "mathematical figures are substantial," the apprentice would 
have acquired an erroneous notion regarding the nature of math- 
ematics ; but had the Professor said "Mathematics are unsub- 
stantial and purely ideal," the young fellow would have thought 
that mathematical constructions were arbitrary and imaginary like 
dreams. Professor Gauss would probably not have answered the 
question at all, for whatever he might have said, it would have been 
bewildering to the questioner. Now, should we say, on reading 
the report of such an interview, that Professor Gauss had practically 
taught the non-existence of mathematics ? And could we presume 
that we understood why he avoided to draw the last conclusion of 
his doctrine ; namely, for the reason that he did not want to shock 
the weak-minded hearer who still clung to the idea that there is 
a substance of mathematics? 

Professor Oldenberg's interpretation of the passage quoted 
from the Samyuttaka Nikdya would make of the Buddha a hypocrite 
or a coward, for it represents him as not willing to concede the 
last consequence of his doctrine and without directly telling a lie 
as trying to make a false impression upon his interviewer. If Vac- 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF BUDDHISM. 277 

chagotta had been one of Buddha's followers, there might have been 
a reason for Buddha's not shocking his religious faith, but Vaccha- 
gotta belonged to a non-Buddhistic sect, and his question was not 
made in anxiety or with quivering lips. The context of the passage 
refutes Professor Oldenberg's interpretation. 

Why not understand' the passage as it reads? Had the Bud- 
dha said "the ego is not," Vacchagotta would imagine that the 
Buddha believed in annihilation, a doctrine which is unequivocally 
condemned in the Buddhist canon as a heresy. According to Pro- 
fessor Oldenberg, however, this would be the true import of the 
Buddhist religion. Vacchagotta, relying on the fact that his ego- 
consciousness was real, would say : "Did not my ego exist before? 
and now I am told that there is no ego." In the same way the 
hypothetical carpenter's apprentice in his interview with Professor 
Gauss would have said: "The lines which I use in measuring 
beams and boards are real ; and yet this man who is supposed to 
be a great authority in mathematics tells me that mathematical 
lines are purely ideal ! " We cannot help thinking that if Pro- 
fessor Oldenberg had asked the Buddha whether or not he taught 
the immortality of the ego, the Buddha would have given him the 
same answer as he did Vacchagotta : he would have remained 
silent. 

Professor Oldenberg takes a denial of the existence of the ego- 
soul as a denial of the existence of the soul itself, in the same way 
that the carpenter's apprentice might have understood that Profes- 
sor Gauss, not believing in a mathematical substance, denied the 
existence of mathematics altogether. Truly, to understand Bud- 
dhism, we must have an inkling of the fundamental notions of 
philosophy, and with all due respect for Professor Oldenberg's 
philological erudition, we cannot help saying that philosophical 
comprehension is a weakness of his which renders him unable to 
grasp the meaning of Buddhism. 

The soul, according to Buddhism, does not consist of substance 
but consists of sankharas, which are sentient structures or forms 
produced by deeds, by karma, or function. A man's personality is 
name and form. The name may be preserved and the form may 



278 THE MONIST. 

reappear in new generations. The individual dies, but its form 
continues by rebirth. There is no individuality in the sense of the 
Brahmanical atman theory, but the individuality of a man, his name 
and form are for that reason real enough ; and name and form are 
either singly, or sometimes together, preserved and reindividualised. 
There is a continuity in life in which the same form is preserved, 
and this continuous preservation of form is all that is and can be 
meant by sameness of personality. This is the secret (if there be 
any secret about it) of the Buddhist psychology. 

IS NIRVANA ANNIHILATION ? 

Professor Oldenberg's conception of Buddhism differs from 
mine ; he says in a letter to me : 

"Buddhism, in my opinion, suffers from the contradiction, historically quite 
conceivable, that on the one hand, it retains the old, concrete, and popular concep- 
tion of a transmigration of the soul, on the other hand dissolves in its philosophy 
the idea of a soul as a substratum, an ego-being. This is a contradiction which 
will never be overcome by your attempt at sublimating the category of karma. 
Had Buddha not believed in a transmigration of the soul, suicide should have ap- 
peared to him as the quickest and best adapted means of making an end of suf- 
fering. A few drops of prussic acid would be a better, and at any rate a more 
rapid remedy than the holy eightfold path." 

If this opinion of the learned Pali Professor be tenable, the 
Buddha, who is generally regarded as one of the keenest thinkers 
that ever lived on earth, would have both denied the existence of a 
thing and at the same time have taught that it migrated from place 
to place. And we are requested to believe that the Buddha should 
have been guilty of such a gross contradiction ! No, I would 
rather run the risk of doubting the infallibility of a German pro- 
fessor ! 

While Professor Oldenberg's summary solution is prima facie 
improbable, it is at the same time based upon incorrectly-stated 
facts. Buddhism teaches reincarnation, but it does not teach the 
migration of the soul. Professor Oldenberg's book, although good 
in many respects, is very deficient in its exposition of the Buddhist 
psychology, which is just the most important part of Buddhism. 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF BUDDHISM. 279 

Oldenberg must have overlooked the passages in which the theory 
of soul-migration, in the sense of an ego-soul migrating from one 
body into another, is rejected. Buddhism denies that the soul is a 
substance, and in spite of Professor Oldenberg's statement to the 
contrary, it denies also most emphatically and unequivocally that 
there can be any transmigration or transportation of soul-substance. 
Yet Buddhism asserts the reappearance of the same soul-forms. 
We read in the Questions of King Milinda, III., 5, (Sacred Books of 
the East, XXXV., p. in): 

"Where there is no transmigration, Nagasena, can there be rebirth ?" 

" Yes, there can." 

" But how can that be ? Give me an illustration." 

"Suppose a man, O king, were to light a lamp from another lamp, can it be 
said that the one transmigrates from, or to, the other ? " 

" Certainly not." 

"Just so, great king, is rebirth without transmigration." 

" Give me a further illustration." 

" Do you recollect, great king, having learnt, when you were a boy, some verse 
or other from your teacher ? " 

"Yes, I recollect that." 

"Well, then, did that verse transmigrate from your teacher? " 

" Certainly not." 

"Just so, great king, is rebirth without transmigration." 

" Very good, Nagasena ! " 

In the Jataka tales and other popular legends expressions are 
frequently retained which suggest the old Brahmanical conception 
of a transmigration of soul, but philosophical expositions of the 
problem leave no doubt about the meaning of the Buddhistic idea 
of rebirth. At any rate, here is a plain statement in one of the most 
famous and authoritative Buddhist scriptures, which denies that 
there is any transmigration of a soul-entity ; and thus Professor 
Oldenberg's charge of inconsistency falls to the ground, as it rests 
on a misstatement of the Buddhist faith. 

Here is another example, adduced by Nagasena in the Milinda- 
panha : 

The mango that is planted rots away in the ground, but it is 
reborn in the mangoes of the tree that grows from its seed. He 



28O THE MONIST. 

who steals the fruit steals the property of him who sowed the 
mango. There is no transmigration of a mango-soul from the seed 
to the fruit, but there is a reconstruction of its form. Thus (as 
said he who came from Nazareth) the body of a man can be broken 
down like a temple that is destroyed, but it can and will be built 
up again. The life of a man does not end with death, for his soul 
is reincarnated again and again. 

And how does this transfer of soul take place ? Partly by 
heredity as is explained by Nagasena in the illustration of the 
mango seed, partly by communication. A particular man is not a 
discrete individual, but a trysting-place of soul-activities, of san- 
kharas, which are impressed into him by example and education. 
Thus, a boy in school learns a verse by heart ; there is no transfer 
of soul-substance migrating from the teacher to the pupil, but there 
is a reincarnation of a certain soul-form. The teacher's words are 
impressed into the boy; and this is called by Nagasena "rebirth 
without transmigration." 

Similar passages and similes in explanation of the same idea 
are found in the Visudhi-Magga, where the transfer of soul is illus- 
trated by the reappearance of the form of a face in the mirror, of a 
voice in its echo, of a seal in its imprint, etc. 

Professor Oldenberg knows very well that Nirvana in the Bud- 
dhist texts is not annihilation, but deliverance from evil ; and there 
are innumerable passages which characterise it as the state of 
highest bliss. Professor Oldenberg quotes several passages from 
various sources, which corroborate the positive conception of Nir- 
vana, He says : 

" Buddhist proverbs attribute in innumerable passages the possession of Nir- 
vina to the saint, who still treads the earth : 

" 'The disciple who has put off lust and desire, rich in wisdom, has here on 
earth attained the deliverance from death, the rest, the Nirvana, the eternal state.' 
Suttasangaha, fol. cfi., a Brahmanical ascetic addresses to Sariputta this question : 
'Nirvana, Nirvana, so they say, friend Sariputta. But what is the Nirvana, friend ?' 
' The subjugation of desire, the subjugation of hatred, the subjugation of perplex- 
ity ; this, O friend, is called Nirvana.' " (L. c., p. 264.) 

But Nirvana may be the summum bonum, because it involves the 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF BUDDHISM. 281 

cutting off of the cause of existence, and the state of Nirvana may 
become an actual annihilation at the moment of death. Yet even 
the final goal of saintship is not characterised as an absolute ex- 
tinction. Professor Oldenberg quotes the following passages from 
the Uddna (fol. ghau) : 

1 ' ' There is, O disciples, a state, where there is neither earth nor water, neither 
light nor air, neither infinity of space, nor infinity of reason, nor absolute void, nor 
the co-extinction of perception and non-perception, neither this world nor that world, 
both sun and moon. That, O disciples, I term neither coming nor going nor stand- 
ing, neither death nor birth. It is without basis, without procession, without ces- 
sation : that is the end of sorrow. 

" 'There is, O disciples, an unborn, unoriginated, uncreated, unformed. Were 
there not, O disciples, this unborn, unoriginated, uncreated, unformed, there would 
be no possible exit from the world of the born, originated, created, formed."' 

Professor Oldenberg adds the following comments : 

"These words seem to sound as if we heard Brahmanical philosophers talking 
of the Brahma, the unborn, intransient which is neither great nor small, the name 
of which is 'No, No,' for no word can exhaust its being. Yet these expressions, 
when viewed in the connexion of Buddhist thought, convey something wholly dif- 
ferent. To the Brahman the uncreated is so veritable a reality, that the reality 
of the created pales before it ; the created derives its being and life solely from the 
uncreated. For the Buddhist the words ' there is an uncreated ' merely signify 
that the created can free himself from the curse of being created (in the ' Dhamma- 
pada ' it is said, v. 383) : ' If thou hast learned the destruction of the sankhara, 
thou knowest the uncreated ' there is a path from the world of the created out 
into dark endlessness. Does the path lead into a new existence ? Does it lead into 
the Nothing ? The Buddhist creed rests in delicate equipoise between the two. 
The longing of the heart that craves the eternal has not nothing, and yet the 
thought has not a something, which it might firmly grasp. Farther off the idea of 
the endless, the eternal could not withdraw itself from belief than it has done here, 
where, like a gentle flutter on the point of merging in the Nothing, it threatens to 
evade the gaze." (lb. t p. 283, 284.) 

Is there no other interpretation of the quoted passages than 
the one offered by Professor Oldenberg, viz., that the Buddhist 
faith is equivocal, and that it leaves the question undecided, either 
as an " unfathomable mystery," or as "resting in a delicate equi- 
poise between the idea of a new existence and nothing" ? 

It would be difficult here for any man to speak authoritatively, 



282 THE MONIST. 

but it appears to me the solution is not far to seek. The attain- 
ment of Nirvana consists in enlightenment, that is to say, in a re- 
cognition of the fundamental truths of religion, which in their 
practical application are expressed in the noble eightfold path of 
righteousness. All individual craving has disappeared in the saint ; 
he has become an incarnation of truth, not of theoretical or purely 
scientific notions concerning the nature of things, but of practical 
truth which manifests itself in a moral life. Thus Nirvana is actu- 
ally an utter annihilation of the thought of self and an embodiment 
of universal love and righteousness. Those eternal conditions 
which constitute righteousness are realised in a human heart. 

If we translate Buddhist thought into Christian terms, we 
would say that the attainment of Nirvana means God-incarnation, 
and the Buddha is the God-man. Shall we say that the eternal 
conditions of righteousness are a mere nothing, because they are 
unsubstantial ? Are they non-existent because they are not con- 
crete things, not material objects ? That would certainly lead to a 
serious misconception of the most important facts of existence ! 

Further, must God be considered as a non-entity when we 
learn to understand that God is not an individual being ? Dwindles 
the Christian idea of Heaven away, because astronomy finds no 
place for it in the stars ? There are things spiritual the existence 
of which does not depend upon a definite locality. The Pythago- 
rean theorem is true, and would remain true, even if the world ex- 
isted no longer. It is an eternal verity and not a mere nothing. 
This is illustrated in the "Questions of King Milinda" as follows: 

" The king said : 'Venerable Nagasena, where does wisdom dwell ?' 

" 'Nowhere, O king.' 

" 'Then, sir, there is no such thing as wisdom.' 

" ' Where does the wind dwell, O king ? ' 

" 'Not anywhere, sir.' 

" ' So there is no such thing as wind.' 

" 'Well answered, Nagasena.'" 

It may be difficult to the untrained to understand the para- 
mount importance of eternal verities, but no one can deny their 
actual presence in life. What other meaning can there be in the 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF BUDDHISM. 283 

words of Christ when he says : "Heaven and earth may pass away, 
but my words shall not pass away." The Buddha utters the same 
sentiment. He says : 

' ' The Buddhas are beings whose word cannot fail ; there is no deviation from 
truth in their speech," etc. (Buddhist Birth Stories, p. 18.) 

The words of Buddha are not merely the sankharas of his in- 
dividual existence, but the eternal verities which shall not pass 
away, and he who realises them in his soul has attained Nirvana. 

Now, I can see Professor Oldenberg smile, and hear him say, 
"That is what I mean; Nirvana is, according to Buddha, the at- 
tainment of the eternal verities, and nothing else ; accordingly it is 
tantamount to extinction. Nirvana is not a place, and the Buddha 
after his death is no longer a definite individuality that can be 
pointed out to be here or there. Ergo he is dissolved into nothing." 
To be identical with verities that are eternal but have no dwelling 
place in space is, in the opinion of many, an annihilation ; for 
ubiquity and nullibility are to their minds two expressions of one 
and the same thing. Kepler's soul has become the recognition of 
the three famous laws that bear his name ; Ludolf is identified with 
the calculation of n ; Newton with the formulation of the law of 
gravitation. They attained, each one in his own way, some special 
aspect of the uncreated, the eternal, the unborn. In the same way 
the Buddha (in the Buddhistic conception) has become the moral 
law which is, ever was, and shall remain forever the path of deliv- 
ery from evil. Immortality is claimed for the Keplers, the Lu- 
dolfs, and Newtons, not for their names alone, because their names 
might be forgotten, but for their souls, for their ideas, for the ver- 
ities with which they have become identical ; and in the same 
sense, only in the broader field of religious truth, Buddhists believe 
in the eternal omnipresence of the Buddha. If that be nothing, 
then "Nothing" stands for the highest and noblest that can be 
thought of, and Nothing would be the divinest thing in the uni- 
verse. Indeed, those invisible realities which, when recognised, are 
called truths, are of greater importance than concrete things and 
individual beings. 



284 THE MONIST. 

This is plain to every one who understands that truths are real, 
even though they are not substances or entities. And the same is 
true of the soul. To deny that volition, cognition and other mental 
activities are substances, or entities, or that they need a substratum 
or metaphysical subject in order to be real, is not a denial of their 
existence it is simply the consistent consequence of the commonly 
acknowledged truth that they are not material. 

Here lies the main difficulty in understanding Buddhism, which, 
whether we praise it or condemn it, must be recognised as the most 
philosophical of all religions. There is no use in understanding 
the words of the Buddhist texts, if we have no comprehension of 
their meaning. And how gross Professor Oldenberg's conception 
is, appears from his proposition that unless Buddha had been guilty 
of the inconsistency of believing in soul-transmigration, suicide 
would have been a better remedy for the evils of existence than the 
noble eightfold path of righteousness. 

Suicide causes the dissolution of the individual ; it sets an ex- 
ample which in the hearts of others will, according to circumstance, 
bear evil fruit ; it causes consternation and unrest, and can there- 
fore not lead to the cessation of suffering ; under no condition could 
it conduce to the attainment of Nirvana. He who imagines that 
but for the supposition of a transmigration of soul, suicide would 
be a more appropriate and safer method of reaching Nirvana than 
the eightfold path of righteousness, has no inkling of the signifi- 
cance of Nirvana. 

Whatever error I may be guilty of in my own representations 
of Buddhism, be it in essays that I have written or in the Gospel 
of Buddha, this much is sure, that Professor Oldenberg has misun- 
derstood its most salient doctrines, those on the nature of the soul 
and of Nirvana. Being a professor who has studied the southern 
canon of Buddhism in its original documents, he is by many people 
looked upon as the greatest living authority on the subject, and he 
can therefore not fail to propagate his misconceptions. Misconcep- 
tions in all fields of thought are unavoidable, but if they originate 
in men who are called upon to be the channels of our information 
the result will be sad. 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF BUDDHISM. 285 

Professor Oldenberg is a good scholar, and, I repeat, I gladly 
acknowledge my indebtedness to him as a philologist ; he may 
also be a good historian, but he has shown himself to be incom- 
petent as an interpreter of Buddhism. His expositions remind us 
of the parable of the hardwood, 1 that is related in the Majjhima- 
where we read : 



" It is exactly, O monks, as if a man who demands hardwood, seeks for hard- 
wood, and looks out for hardwood, climbs over the hardwood of a big hardwood 
tree, over the greenwood, over the bark, to the boughs and cuts off a twig, taking 
it along with the idea ' that is hardwood.' Suppose that a clear-sighted man ob- 
serves him, saying : ' This good man really knows neither hardwood, nor green- 
wood, nor bark, nor boughs, nor foliage, therefore this good man who demands 
hardwood, seeks for hardwood, looks out for hardwood, climbs straightway over 
the hardwood of a large hardwood tree, over the greenwood, over the bark, and 
cuts off a twig in the opinion that it is hardwood. But the hardwood which he will 
get from the hardwood of the twig will not serve his purpose. 1 " 

Professor Oldenberg has devoted his life to the decipherment 
of Sanskrit and Pali, but he has failed to comprehend the signifi- 
cance of Buddhism. He has climbed over the hardwood of the doc- 
trine of the Buddha without comprehending either its import or 
possible usefulness, and, presenting us with the foliage of external- 
ities, assures us that this is the hardwood of Buddhism. 

CONCLUSION. 

Buddhism is decidedly not nihilism, and Nirvana does not 
mean annihilation. Buddhism in its purest form is, more than any 
other religion, stated in philosophical terms, which, the more posi- 
tively philosophical they are, will naturally appear to unphilosoph- 
ical minds as mere negations. 

Christians find it difficult to comprehend Buddhism, but the 
fact remains that what Christianity has been to Western peoples, 
Buddhism was to the nations of the East ; and all the dissimilari- 
ties will in the end only serve to render the similarities that obtain 
between them the more remarkable. 

While we are not blind to the great preferences of Christianity, 

1 See Karl Eugen Neumann, Die Reden Gotamo Buddho* s t p. 304-325. 



286 THE MONIST. 

we must grant that Buddhism is a truly cosmopolitan religion. 
Buddhism can comprehend other religions and interpret their 
mythologies, but no mythology is wide enough to comprehend 
Buddhism. Buddhism is, as it were, religious mythology explained 
in scientific terms ; it is the esoteric secret of all exoteric doc- 
trines. It is the skeleton key which in its abstract simplicity fits 
all locks. 

This is the reason why Buddhism can adapt itself to almost 
any condition and can satisfy the spiritual needs of great and small, 
high and low, of the learned as well as the uncultured. It offers 
food for thought to the philosopher, comfort to the afflicted, and af- 
fords a stay to those that struggle. It is a guide through the temp- 
tations of life and a lesson to those in danger of straying from the 
right path. And yet it demands no belief in the impossible ; it dis- 
penses with miracles, it assumes no authority except the illumina- 
tion of a right comprehension of the facts of existence. 

EDITOR. 



LITERARY CORRESPONDENCE. 

FRANCE. 

IT IS unnecessary to repeat the criticism which I have already 
given of the latest remarkable work of M. TH. RIBOT, La Psy- 
chologie des Sentiments. I desire merely to call attention to the ap- 
proved merits of his method, to his steadfastness in adhering to 
one point of view and in supporting his conclusions upon a few 
dominating ideas, whose ramifications he unerringly follows, and 
finally to the decision which he evinces in his criticism of the 
numerous theories that come in his path, and between which he is 
obliged to choose. 

To abide as rigidly as possible by the naked statement of facts, 
to strive constantly to single out the simple and primitive from the 
complex and secondary, such is the maxim followed by M. Ribot. 
Evolution supplies him with his instrument of analysis the 
sound principle that all the luxuriant embroidery of higher life has 
been raised upon the canvas background of fundamental tenden- 
cies. And as these tendencies, which are the very basis of our 
being, are manifested in movement, the motor element can serve 
us in the construction of a theory of the great psychological facts. 

Conformably to this conception M. Ribot does not hesitate to 
declare that the motor manifestations are the essential thing in the 
sphere of sentiment, that "what are called agreeable or painful 
states constitute but the superficial portion of affective life, the 
lowermost element of which reposes on tendencies, appetites, needs, 
desires, which are translated by movements." The doctrine thus 
clearly formulated serves him as a guiding thread in all his studies, 



288 THE MONIST. 

whether he is dealing with subjects of general psychology (pleasure 
and pain, emotion and affective memory) or whether he is engaged 
with subjects of special psychology, such as the instinct of preser- 
vation, sympathy, the sexual instinct, social and moral instincts or 
religious, aesthetical, and intellectual sentiments. ^ 

M. Ribot has given us a motor theory of attention. He will 
give us later perhaps a motor theory of imagination. We hope it 
will be permitted him to explore in this manner the whole domain 
of psychology. In any event, he will have left upon this depart- 
ment of inquiry a strong impress, will have cleared up many ob- 
scure problems, and generally advanced solutions even where it has 
not been his lot to discover them definitively. 



But yesterday the miracle of the world was life, to-day it is con- 
sciousness. The physiologists, and with them Claude Bernard, had 
regarded life as an irreducible property ; afterwards it was sought 
to reduce it to terms of physics and chemistry, and one is inclined 
to think that the problem has been approximately solved after hav- 
ing read the extremely valuable work of M. F. LE DANTEC, Theorie 
nouvelle de la vie. M. Le Dantec progressively studies the life of 
monoplastidules, or elementary life, then that of polyplastidules, 
or life properly so called, and concludes with a few pages upon 
psychic life. I cannot enter into the details of this work. It will 
be sufficient to emphasise the clear and new views of the author on 
life and death, and to mention the two principal conclusions of his 
book : (i) that psychic life is an epiphenomenon of physiological 
life, all things going forward physiologically as if consciousness did 
not exist at all ; and (2) that in everything affecting the senses of 
observing living beings there is nothing transcending the natural 
laws established for gross matter, that is to say, the laws of physics 
and chemistry. M. Le Dantec is free from all dogmatism. His 
work will no doubt be widely noticed by biologists and philoso- 
phers. 

I should make good an omission which I have made of an in- 
teresting volume by M. A. SABATIER, Essai sur ? immortalite au point 



LITERARY CORRESPONDENCE. 289 

de vue du naturalisme evolutioniste.^ The difficulty of the spiritualist 
conceptions regarding the survival of the ego has, as we know, 
always been the ''realising," or the infusing of palpable life into, 
the soul, which at the same time it is sought to make immaterial 
and virtual, and to keep one and indivisible. M. Sabatier has 
sought to transcend this obstacle by imagining an ultra-terrestrial 
plasma as the physical vehicle of immortality. This plasma would 
be at once matter and space, life and spirit ; the nervous centres 
would play with respect to it the role of accumulators, or condens- 
ers, creating conscious personality, and this personality once created 
could be affixed after death to a new organism capable of maintain- 
ing its integrity and even of increasing its energy. 

The hypothesis of an ultra-terrestrial plasma is interesting, 
but it is not easy to conceive what would become of the diffuse 
psychical states which are imagined apart from all conscious sub- 
jects, nor how consciousness, if it depends on the association of 
nervous elements, could survive their dissociation. 

There has also been much talk of two works by M. A. DE 
ROCHAS, L* exteriorisation de la sensibilite and ISexteriorisation de la 
motriciteJ 1 The experiments which are mentioned in these works 
should not be confounded with the "miracles" performed in the 
seances of the spiritists. M. de Rochas is a man of worth and an 
inquirer of sincerity. Nevertheless, he does not take sufficient pre- 
cautions against suggestion and fraud. I have recently learned 
from well-informed persons, that his celebrated subject, his medium, 
had after imbibing revealed some of his methods. M. de Rochas 
himself has exposed some of these impositions, but it does not ap- 
pear that he has discovered them all. His facts have not been 
sufficiently corroborated to permit his hazarding the rearing of a 
structure thereon. Does this mean that one must deny without 
hearing, and that no properties of nervous energy remain to be dis- 
covered ? Not at all. We have simply to leave certain questions 
open, so as not to adopt precipitate and false solutions. 

1 Fishbacher, publisher. 

2 Chamuel, publisher. The remaining works are published by Felix Alcan. 



290 THE MONIST. 

A communication addressed to the Munich Congress by DR. 
BARADUC marks the beginning of a new order of researches, simul- 
taneously pursued in Paris by a young scientist, M. RADEL, con- 
cerning whose work our journals published last August some brief 
mention. M. Baraduc flatters himself that he has photographed 
thought, and M. Radel that he has photographed dreams. That is 
to say, photography is said to have revealed to them the fact that 
there exist modes of exchanging nervous energy with the external 
environment, and also particular forms of the discharge of that en- 
ergy. We are in the way here, should these doubtful facts be 
true, of not only giving precise material and form to intelligence, 
but of more proximately grasping the physiological fact correspond- 
ing to the psychological operation. 

* 
* * 

M. DE ROBERTY gives us the first volume of his Ethique, Le 
Bien et le Mai, an interesting work, as are all those of this author, 
both by its contents and its signification in the philosophical whole 
to which it belongs. It is less a systematically constructed book 
than a series of controversial articles, in which the enthusiasm of 
the writer breathes of the spirit of life, yet not without the sacrifice 
of lucidity. M. de Roberty predicates with many others the rela- 
tivity of morals and pronounces future "immorality" as a benefac- 
tion. The term immorality signifies here, so far as I can under- 
stand, nothing but the end of special systems of morals, which 
are an obstacle to evolution, and not the end of all norms and of 
all authority. To every social organisation there corresponds, of 
necessity, an organisation of ideas and emotions which is morality 
itself. And it is thus that ethics is modified, but not without the 
establishment in the course of evolution of principles which thence- 
forth become, as I have elsewhere shown, the axis about which a 
new society grows up. 

But we touch here the kernel of M. Roberty's book. He has 
proposed to answer mainly two questions : first, what is the place 
of morals with respect to biology, with respect to psychology, and 
with respect to sociology. Secondly, of the moral fact and social 
fact, which is prior? 



LITERARY CORRESPONDENCE. 2QI 

To biology, he concludes, rudimentary psychism belongs ; to 
sociology collective psychism, the study of which will take up the 
second volume of his Ethique. The florescence of life religion, 
philosophy, science, and art is not entirely due to the normal evo- 
lution of biological psychism ; it results from the fusion of purely 
vital energies and of social forces derived from the biological order. 
Psychology, accordingly, would not be an abstract science (a sci- 
ence of being), taking rank after cerebral physiology ; but it would 
be a concrete discipline (a science of becoming), a body of knowledge 
derived from the two conjoint sciences of biology and sociology. 

As to the moral facts and the social facts it is to be said that 
the first engender the second rather than that they are derived from 
them. The social facts are the form in which the moral facts are 
clothed ; in reality we have here the same order of phenomena, 
subject to a continuous evolution, in which, however, we must 
distinguish two aspects, the moral, which is within, and the social, 
which is without. I find nothing to object to in this conception. It 
has seemed to me clear for a long time that the same needs have 
given rise to society simultaneously with morality ; that the develop- 
ment of both has proceeded upon the basis of our fundamental or- 
ganic tendencies ; and finally, that sociology is always broader than 
historical systems of morality, so that the latter constantly tend to 
conform to the former, and the psychological states of social indi- 
viduals, that is to say, ends or duties, to agree more and more ex- 
actly with one another, instead of becoming antagonistic. 

* 
* * 

M. Louis COUTURAT, who gives us a book on L'Infini mathe- 
matique, is certainly a scholarly and distinguished author, yet one 
of a class in whom philosophical studies have strangely warped the 
geometrical spirit. His object has been to prove, as before him 
others have sought to do, that we can think and comprehend the 
infinite although it is not representable. He has sought this proof 
by a criticism of the data of mathematical analysis. But he com- 
mits in my judgment two fundamental errors. The first is the mis- 
taking of the true nature of arithmetic. Arithmetic is a mere in- 
strument of precision, the perfecting of which, as determined by 



2Q2 THE MONIST. 

its application to complex questions and as pushed higher and 
higher by necessity, are recorded in history by the successive con- 
sideration of irrational numbers, imaginary numbers, limits, etc. 
It is not permissible to ascribe to the artifices which support it a 
mysterious value, or to attempt to objectify and hypostatise the 
purely logical conceptions which analysis has introduced into 
thought. 

The second error is the attributing a special efficacy to mag- 
nitude, such that analysis is made to repose upon the idea of mag- 
nitude and not upon the idea of number. As if magnitude signified 
anything, so long as it remains undetermined, that is, unexpressed 
by means of numbers, which are the precise elements of its deter- 
mination ! 

Cannot M. Couturat see that his induction ultimately leads to 
quite arbitrary changes in the true signification of words, and that 
the infinite which he has in mind and seeks to demonstrate is not 

at all the mathematical infinite ? 

* 
* * 

I hasten on to the new publication of M. J. STRADA, Jesus et 
I'ere de la science, la veritable histoire de Jesus, and I take this occa- 
sion of calling the attention of my readers to the author himself, 
who is a philosopher by nature. M. Strada has had the singular 
fortune of passing his life almost entirely neglected by the official 
philosophical public, although he has published more than twenty 
books on philosophy, social science, and history, not to mention an 
enormous poetical work, L 1 Epopee humaine, which already embraces 
nineteen volumes. He undoubtedly owes the neglect which he has 
brought upon himself if it can be called such to the strange forms 
of his language and to the intricate style of his dialectics. I say 
that he has been neglected ; I do not say that he has been over- 
looked or ignored. He has himself claimed priority for the theory 
of idees-forces, which M. Fouille"e developed with such talent and 
originality. 

Twenty years ago I read the Ultimum Organum of M. Strada, 
which had appeared ten years previously. I was struck with the 
work and spoke of it in my first modest and imperfect maiden effort. 



LITERARY CORRESPONDENCE. 2Q3 

Quite recently I reviewed in the Revue Philosophique another work 
by the same author, La loi de rhistoire, and I could not help re- 
marking the agreement of Strada's law with that of Comte. M. 
Strada explains history, as did Comte, by intelligence; and the 
sequence of the methods of mind established by him fideism, with 
faith as its criterion, rationalism with evidence, and impersonalism 
with facts recalls the three ages, the theological, metaphysical, 
and positive, of his predecessor. M. Strada has made a novel and 
felicitous point where he reproaches positivism and modern science 
with having accepted experiment as a criterion, a thing which is 
for him merely a methodological instrument. The proper criterion, 
he contends, is found neither in experiment, in the syllogism, nor 
in mathematics, which are a simple means of reaching facts; it 
is found in the Fact alone. It is the Necessary Fact which is the 
criterion, not fluctuating and changing man, and hence the name 
of methodological impersonalism, or of the impersonal method, 
which he has given to his doctrine. 

Yet the fact, one will say, is the very thing that experiment 
seeks to disclose. And the confusion is not as great as M. Strada 
imagines. It is true that in declaring experiment to be the crite- 
rion, we are in danger of excluding all metaphysics from knowl- 
edge, and the syllogism alone, according to M. Strada, reaches the 
metaphysical fact which he wishes to restore. There is a broad 
field for discussion regarding the scope ascribed by him to the syl- 
logism and regarding his handling of the antinomies which leads 
him to affirm God to be the Pre-antinomic. But this discussion 
would be at present beyond our scope, and I return to the Jesus 
which I mentioned above. The work is large and interesting. Many 
people will be offended by it, and yet the restoration of the true 
history of Jesus which M. Strada attempts, taking his stand solely 
on the text of the Gospels, directly and respectfully consulted, ap- 
pears to me an extremely probable one. Nothing is more striking 
than the sureness and frankness with which the author substitutes 
what he calls the fact-mediator for the deified mediators, such as 
Buddha, Jesus, and Mohammed, that is to say, a religion of science 
for fideisms of all sorts. M. Strada will finish this work in a new 



294 THE 

volume, "The Religion of Science," which will certainly rank 
among the most interesting. An eloquent and convinced writer, 
with a zeal amounting almost to passion, he not only impresses and 
moves his public but also forces them to think. He knows philos- 
ophy as it is not known now-a-days, and handles language with 
an energy far above the ordinary. Although I do not give my full 
adhesion to his doctrine, I am ready to render him this homage and 
to bring his work to the attention of readers who doubtless are un- 
aware of his existence. 

LUCIEN ARRAT. 
PARIS. 






CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 

PANLOGISM. 

A reply to Dr. Carus's reply (October number of The Monist} would involve a 
very lengthy paper. The issues raised open up a controversy of very extensive 
scope : in fact practically all the questions differently answered by the ' ' monistic 
positivism " of my kindly and accomplished critic and by my own Neo-Leibnitzian 
monadism. And in view of the space occupied by me in the last Monist, I lack the 
effrontery to pen the long essay required. 

Let me say here that all the issues are treated some at considerable length 
in my Riddle of the Universe (Arnold : London and New York). Those, however, 
who desire a succinct statement of the ground-principles of my system, may be re- 
ferred to the essay in the July number of the Free Review (London : Swan, Son- 
nenschein) entitled "The New Monadism." Pending the publication of my devel- 
oped system, I have nothing to add to the arguments there advanced. Let me 
observe in passing that no one who reads this essay will echo Dr. Carus's opinion 
that my monads are "substances which, for the sake of ridding them of gross ma- 
teriality, have been reduced to atomic size." Size is a space-attribute, and space, 
in my view, only a form of perception and ideation of a monad. The monad or self 
(Kant's "transcendental subject") is not in space, but contrariwise space is in it. 
I have dealt in the Riddle with this issue at length and cannot understand how one 
who reads it can fail to follow my meaning. 

I must just glance in passing at Dr. Carus's theory of Immortality. Jesus is 
immortal because his words are immortal. " The words of Jesus are his soul." 
1 ' Christ lives where the word of Christ is received and where it becomes the motive 
of conduct." This is a Comtean immortality only. Jesus or John Smith is not 
destined to enjoy or suffer a perpetuity of conscious life : they only pass on ideas or 
"thought-forms. " Let me point out some considerations bearing on this doctrine : 

i. The immortality is verbal. Indeed, it is not even this. The slow freezing 
of the planet, nay, even the perishing of certain human stocks, would terminate it ! 
Jesus would no longer persist, were there no terrestrial beings to repeat his words 
or act on his teachings. 



2g6 THE MONIST. 

2. It cannot be said that the "thought-forms" would even persist as long as 
men lived to receive them. And why ? Because no two people can " think " ex- 
actly the same thoughts ; there are as many Christianities as there are persons, and 
the name Christianity stands not for any definite persisting standpoint, but for a 
myriad-faced, always changing process. The " thought-forms" of Jesus, Dr. Carus, 
a bishop, and a tramp (all "Christians") are so many different psychological phe- 
nomena ; and labelling certain vaguely-resembling portions of these phenomena as 
" Christianity," does not at all hide their vast differences. Jesus on Comtean lines 
does not persist at all he has merely started an ethico-psychological process which 
is always changing its shape. Ideas ABOUT Jesus's ideas are not the ideas of Jesus ! 

3. The " immortality " is of no ethical value. Men who do not believe that 
they persist after physical death will not taking communities into view uselessly 
vex themselves with painful self-culture or "progress." They will degenerate ; (a 
consideration, however, of no relevance where the proofs of persistence are being 
discussed). 

There is much else to be said against this Comtean view of immortality, but 
the above considerations will for the present suffice. E. DOUGLAS FAWCETT. 

EDITORIAL COMMENTS. 

I should have preferred to publish Mr. Fawcett's comments on my reply to his 
"Panlogism" without further remarks, were it not that his explanations of my view 
of immortality might then seem to be acknowledged by me as being correctly 
stated. Therefore, I wish to add a few words which shall set the reader right, at 
least as to the main point of the subject. 

Mr. Fawcett, who regards my view of immortality as Comtean, still insists on 
making a difference between a man's self and his soul-forms. He grants to some 
extent the immortality of the latter, but he thinks that the repudiation of a self-soul 
as a separate entity renders it illusory. Mr. Fawcett forgets to tell us what a soul 
would be without its peculiar ideas, sentiments, and aspirations. He assumes the 
existence of two things, (i) a soul in and for itself, a monad, and (2) the life and 
deeds of a man. Thus Jesus would be (i) a Jesus-monad and (2) his life consisting 
of his preachings and the moral example he set for mankind. 

According to the immortality which I proclaim, Jesus is not a self in itself 
which preached certain theories, but his life, consisting of his preachings and his 
actions, was he himself. Jesus did not have the logos, but he was the logos, the 
logos being the truths which appeared in him ; and this logos according to the 
Christian doctrines of the Fourth Gospel is an eternal, omnipresent reality in the 
constitution of the world. The logos was before Jesus was born and continued to 
exist after his death. It was at the beginning and will remain forever and aye even 
though this earth of ours break to pieces. 

Mr. Fawcett would be clearer about the true nature of the self if he only pro- 
posed to himself the question, " What am I ? " "What is Jesus?" "What is 
Mr. Smith ? " He will find upon a proper analysis that every man consists of the 
memories of all deeds done in his own life as well as in the lives of his ancestors. 
He is the product of a long process of evolution, and as he is the continuation of 
the past, so in the future he will be the continuation of the present. Every organ- 



CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 297 

ism is a system of memories, and memories are the immortalised previous reactions 
upon the outer world ; they are the preserved deed-forms of innumerable acts com- 
mitted in past ages ; and there is no surd left which might give occasion to the be- 
lief in a soul-monad or a self-soul, a transcendental subject, a metaphysical sub- 
stratum of our being, assumed to exist in addition to the real facts of our soul-life. 

It is true that everything in the world, man's soul included, is subject to 
change, but it is a change in which every event is preserved forever, and the laws 
of nature are immutable and eternal. There is a change in identity and an identity 
in change ; there is permanence in transiency, and transiency in impermanence. 
The belief in something that would be absolutely permanent and absolutely self- 
identical (whether we call it monad, or self, or subject, or citman) is as gratuitous as 
the belief in absolute transiency and absolute change. 

Experience teaches us that this world does not consist of matter and motion 
alone, but there is a formative factor which conditions the forms, the qualities, the 
suchness of things. The world is regulated by law, and its formative principle 
depends upon definite and intrinsically necessary relations which we develop in the 
so called formal sciences, especially mathematics, arithmetic, and logic. The ar- 
rangement of thoughts cannot be made arbitrarily but must, in order to agree with 
the reality that surrounds us, follow definite lines, and in the same way every action 
determines its consequences with the same necessity that causes the circumference 
of a circle to remain everywhere at an equal distance from its centre. The totality 
of such conditions as constitute the cosmic order of the world is in its religious ap- 
plication called the logos, and the logos is an immaterial presence, and an inalien- 
able feature of existence, the actuality of which does not depend upon the existence 
of supposititious monads, or subjects, or selfs or what not. 

Mr. Fawcett calls that philosophy which upholds the omnipresent reality of 
the logos, panlogism, and tries to replace it by his monadology. He tries to make 
out that the ideas we think are foreign to our being and that for instance the Logos 
that became flesh in Jesus would be of no account unless Jesus's soul consisted of a 
monad which would have to be regarded as his self. In recapitulating my views of 
immortality Mr. Fawcett tacitly assumes that I believe in the annihilation of this 
monad self in death, while I claim that such a monad self has no existence and can 
therefore not be annihilated, while the real facts of which we consist remain living 
and effective presences in our after-life. 

And our after-life is as little unconscious as our present life which is the con- 
tinuation of our former lives. To be sure there is a break in the continuity of con- 
sciousness in death ; but this break is on the same principle as the break that occurs 
in sleep. Every morning we wake with fresh consciousness and renewed energy, 
yet the memories of our former life-experiences remain the same and their preser- 
vation constitutes the preservation of our being. Thus every new life starts with a 
fresh consciousness, but if we analyse its organisation we find that it consists of 
innumerable memories of deeds done since the remotest past in its ancestral exist- 
ence. 

As to the indestructibility of everything that is valuable, true, and good, we 
trust that if this world breaks to pieces, the Logos will reappear in other worlds. 
Nay, we believe that on other planets on which the same conditions prevail as on 
this, our earth, the Logos is present now, and it makes little difference whether he 
be Joshua, of the tribe of Juda, or Gotama, of the tribe of Shakya. 

Whether or not Mr. Fawcett has overcome panlogism I must leave our readers 
to judge for themselves. p. c. 



298 THE MONIST. 



THE INTERNATIONAL SCIENTIFIC CATALOGUE, AND 
THE DECIMAL SYSTEM OF CLASSIFICATION. 

The most notable bibliographical event of the year was the holding of an In- 
ternational Conference at London in July last for the purpose of considering the 
preparation and publication of a complete international catalogue of scientific lit- 
erature. The germ of this idea originated forty years ago with a proposition made 
at the British Association by a distinguished American scientist, Professor Henry, 
and was partly realised by the "Catalogue of Scientific Papers" issued since 1867 
by the Royal Society and designed to embrace all the purely scientific literature 
published since 1800, arranged according to authors' names. The proportions 
which this catalogue soon assumed, and its unavoidable bibliographical deficien- 
cies, subsequently determined the Royal Society to undertake the preparation of a 
complete systematic catalogue of all the ivor I d* s publications in pure science, arranged 
not only according to authors but also according to subject-matter. It was quickly 
seen, however, that the enormous magnitude of the plan far transcended the pow- 
ers of a single organisation, and accordingly a circular was issued to all the great 
learned bodies and civilised governments of the world, inviting their co-operation 
in the consideration and execution of the scheme. For the details of the Confer- 
ence we must refer our readers to the excellent report by Carl Junker in the Central- 
blatt fiir Bibliothekswesen, Leipsic, Vol. XIII., page 505, to the London Academy 
for August ist, to the Library Journal, New York, for August and November, 1896, 
and also to the contemporaneous files of Science and Nature. We have only to re- 
mark that it was decided the Catalogue should be restricted to "pure" science, 
that its official language should be English, that it should be issued both by cards 
and periodical volumes, and that all the difficult questions involved in its prepara- 
tion should be left to a special international committee, in charge of a central 
bureau at London. 

The most important of all these questions, and the one that provoked the most 
discussion, concerned the system of classification to be adopted. The decimal sys- 
tem of Melvil Dewey, now director of the New York State Library, was suggested 
with modifications. Dewey 's system, which has been in practical use for over 
twenty years, is so well known, so widely adopted, and recently been the subject 
of so much controversy, that little explanation of it is necessary. It is in use in 
many of the middle-sized and in most of the smaller libraries of this country, and 
was recently (1895) enthusiastically adopted by the International Institute of Bib- 
liography at Brussels, Belgium, which has now its permanent working bureau. 
For a simple and brief account we could recommend no better source of informa- 
tion than Publication No. 5 of the Belgium Office (Hotel Ravenstein, Brussels), 
seeing that Dewey's own book is rather bulky and too detailed for the general 
reader. 






CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 299 

The principle of the system is that of dividing all knowledge into ten main 
bibliographical branches denoted by the numerical characters from o to 9, of sub- 
dividing these again into ten more and so on ad infinitum, so that each branch of 
knowledge and each mode of knowledge has its definite and unvarying character- 
istic (just as a logarithm has), which can be interpreted at once by its place in the 
ordinal series and by the help of a comparatively simple general index. Thus o 
denotes General Works, i Philosophy, 2 Religion, 3 Sociology, 4 Philology, 5 Pure 
Science, 6 Applied Science, etc. By another subdivision, say of 5, we have re- 
spectively o, i, 2, 3, 4, etc. for General Science, Mathematics, Astronomy, Phys- 
ics, Chemistry, etc., and by another subdivision, 530 means General Physics, 
531 Mechanics, 532 Hydrostatics, etc., 535 Optics. There are further a few 
special marks for geographical and historical subdivisions, consisting of paren- 
theses, colons, etc., so that 535.09(44.04), for example, is easily read as "the his- 
tory of optics in France during the Revolution." The whole practical mechanism 
of the system, which admits of specialisation by subdivision in the enormous ratio 
of the powers of 10, is simply an alphabetical index and tables of general and spe- 
cial headings, which are repetitionary in principle. Its power and uses are not re- 
stricted to bibliography, but may be advantageously extended to Indices Rerum, etc. 

It is evident that the system apparently involves a classification of the sciences, 
and this seems to have been the main ground of objection to the scheme at the 
London Conference, which curiously enough came principally from librarians, who 
have least to bother with questions of philosophy. It should not, however, be 
viewed as such, but should be regarded merely as what it is, a practical scheme for 
arranging and indexing books. Consequently, it can never, as has been claimed, 
hamper the advancement of science ;, for however false and illogical Dewey's classi- 
fication of knowledge may be, the arrangement of books in a catalogue or on a 
library's shelves can at most only give difficulties to the arranging librarian or to 
the seeker it can in no essential manner affect the progress df science. A perfect 
classification of the sciences we shall never have, and there is infinitely less prob- 
ability that we shall ever have a perfect bibliographical system, for knowledge is so 
interrelated, its gradations and shadings are so subtle, and the caprices of authors 
are so great, that it is safe to say bibliographers will always be presented with sub- 
stantially the same difficulties as they are to-day. The sole question is that of 
practical flexibility, ease and precision of consultation. These qualities the Dewey 
system seems to combine in a more eminent degree than any existing system, and 
in view of the momentous significance and inestimable practical value of the pro- 
posed International Catalogue, it is well that its merits should be strongly insisted 
upon and its defects thoroughly examined before rejection or adoption. At any 
rate we should bear in mind here that we are not concerned with a rigid philosoph- 
ical scheme for classifying the sciences, but with a practical system of bibliography 
having no bearing whatever on the development of research. 

In the first place, then, although we should not claim for the Decimal Classifi- 



300 THE MONIST. 

cation the merits of an absolute Real Character, yet there is no denying that it is 
essentially ideological in structure, and hence international. Secondly, it furnishes 
not only a bibliographical nomenclature but also a bibliographical notation which 
can be mechanically handled. Lastly, its power of expansion and meeting the 
growing needs of specialisation is unlimited, while the resultant ramifications of 
the system are symmetrical and entail little additional mnemonic burdens. 

As to the defects they seem to pertain largely to matters of library economy, 
as the spatial separation of subjects nearly related (e. g., Philology and Literature), 
the decision of the proper category to which a book belongs, say Money or Finance, 
Applied Electricity and Mechanical Engineering, (a very elusive matter, generally 
inherent in the book and not in the system,) the treatment of subjects wherein the 
alphabetical system seems intrinsically indispensable, as Biography, etc. For the 
recital of these defects we may refer the reader to an impartial paper by W. L. R. 
Gifford in the Library Journal tor November, 1896, to a letter by A. G. S. Joseph- 
son in Science, September 4, 1896, and to an article published last summer by 
M. L. Polain in the Revue des Bibliotheques . In its favor may be read the lauda- 
tory articles of C. Richert in the Revue Scientifique for April nth and July nth, 
1896, the paper of W. E. Hoyle in Natural Science for July, 1896, and that of 
Marcel Baudouin in the Revue Scientifique for May 30, 1896, as also to the publica- 
tions generally of the Belgian International Office. 

As might be expected, the opponents of Dewey's system are strongest in the 
United States. And the opposition is mainly from the librarians of our large libra- 
ries, who have greater difficulties to compose and in many instances have systems 
of their own. Although claimed to be in use in one thousand libraries in the 
United States, it is said these libraries are small and not of high standing. The 
opposition of the great librarians should certainly be weighed by the Catalogue 
Committee, in ail its phases. Furthermore, we have the authority of the above- 
mentioned writer in Science that in Amherst College and Columbia University where 
the system was first used, "it has all been made over again." 

Be that as it may, the Decimal System certainly contains the germ of a uni- 
versal bibliographical notation and it is extremely probable that in one form or 
another it will be adopted for the new International Catalogue. Being restricted 
to one main division, that of Pure Science, it will avoid some of the difficulties that 
have perplexed librarians but bring additional others in its train. In itself the 
question is of considerable importance, reaching far beyond that of mere biblio- 
graphical interest, and deserves the serious consideration of all scientific workers. 

THOMAS J. McCoRMACK. 



BOOK REVIEWS. 



THE PRIMARY FACTORS OF ORGANIC EVOLUTION. By E. D. Cope, Ph. D. Chicago : 
The Open Court Publishing Co. 1896. Pages, 547. Cuts, 121. Price 
$2.00. 

In the year 1866 there appeared in the Transactions of the American Philosoph- 
ical Society a paper by Professor Cope on the Cyprinoid Fishes. Among the con- 
clusions at which he arrived in this paper were the following : The relation between 
the generalisation or specialisation of a type and its future progress ; the parallel- 
ism between ontogenesis and phylogenesis, though he did not use these terms ; the 
results of acceleration and retardation ; etc. 

The character of the results of this investigation are quoted to show the ten- 
dency of thought of the writer. While others were discussing the truth or falsehood 
of the theory of evolution, or its applicability in special cases, he had turned his 
attention to the laws of working of the process. 

In 1871 in a paper on "The Method of Creation of Organic Types" he pro- 
pounded a theory of " growth-force "or " bathmism "; and showed how this force, 
located by effort or use at certain points of the body, produces progressive evolu- 
tion. Conversely disuse results in degeneration. In this essay we find also the 
germ, at least, of his later views concerning the importance of consciousness in 
evolution as the means of directing or locating this use or effort. 

These are only the beginnings of a long series of papers which Professor Cope 
has contributed to the American Naturalist and other periodicals during the last 
thirty years. They are all characterised by the same effort to discover not merely 
the mode but also the causes of evolution, or more especially of variation. 

In 1887 he republished the results of many of these articles in his Origin of 
the fittest. In this book he strongly opposes the " omnipotence " of natural selec- 
tion. "Selection," he says, "requires alternatives, and these are the products of 
"variation. Great obscurity has arisen from the supposition that natural selection 
"can originate anything, and the obscurity has not been lessened by the assertion 
" often made that these variations are due to inheritance. What is inheritance but 
" repetition of characters possessed by some (no matter what) ancestor ; and if so, 



302 THE MONIST. 

" where did that ancestor obtain the peculiarity ? The origin of variation is thus 
"only thrown upon an earlier period." 

The present book would seem to have been called forth by the prominence of 
Weismann's theory, which is diametrically opposed to many of the author's views. 
It is a discussion of the theories of Preformation and of Epigenesis. ' ' In one of 
these," he says, " the variations of organisms which constitute progressive and re- 
trogressive evolution appear fortuitously, and those which are beneficial survive 
" by natural selection, while those which are not so, disappear. Characters both 
" beneficial and useless or harmless, which are acquired by the adult organism, are 
1 ' transmitted to the young, so that no education in habit or structure acquired by 
" the adult has any influence in altering the course of evolution. This is the doc- 
" trine of Preformation. From this point of view the cause of the variations of 
"organisms has yet to be discovered. 

"The other point of view sees in variation the direct result of stimuli from 
" within or without the organism ; and holds that evolution consists of the inheri- 
" tance of such variations and the survival of the fit through natural selection. 
' ' This is the doctrine of Epigenesis. To this I would add that in so far as sensa- 
tions or states of consciousness are present, they constitute a factor in the pro- 
"cess, since they enable an organism to modify or change its stimuli. . . . My aim 
"will be to show in the first place, that variations of character are the results of 
" physical causes ; and second, that such variations are inherited." (Pp. 13, 14.) 

The first chapter of the book treats of variation. Here a large number of 
cases are adduced to show that "variations are not promiscuous or multifarious, 
but are of certain definite kinds or in certain directions. (P. 22.) The second 
chapter containing a little less than one hundred pages, is devoted to phylogeny ; 
twenty-five of these to the more immediate ancestry of man. 

This is one of the most interesting, and the most tantalising, of all the chapters 
of the book. The phylogeny of the classes of vertebrates is discussed in about 
sixty pages. The phylogenetic charts of the different classes are clear and not con- 
fused by unnecessary details. The author is a master of the science of recognising 
what he can afford to leave out ; a science of which most writers seem to be woe- 
fully ignorant. 

It is interesting to compare this chapter on phylogenesis with Haeckel's Phy- 
logenie der Wirbeltkiere published a year or more ago. The German scientist gives 
us a volume of some six hundred large pages. There is no attempt at condensa- 
tion. The style is delightfully easy and flowing. Paper and ink are abundant and 
he writes for readers who do not like to be hurried. Wherever the actual ancestor 
of a line of descent has not yet been discovered, the author reconstructs a hypo- 
thetical ancestor. And this hypothetical ancestor " must have existed"; there is 
no doubt about his existence or characteristics. The connexion and the progres- 
sive modifications of the different lines are always clear. 

Every new term is carefully explained. The gaps are bridged ; the difficult 



BOOK REVIEWS. 303 

places smoothed and straightened ; and we read easily, pleasantly, and without 
effort. The boundary line between the actual and the hypothetical, between the 
" is " and the "must be," is not always sharp. But we comfort ourselves with the 
thought that Professor Haeckel's guesses are very shrewd, and that they have 
usually been verified by later discoveries. 

Our American writer, in his lines of vertebrate phylogenesis, sticks as closely 
as possible to the facts of palaeontology. The statements are very brief, the an- 
atomical terms are rarely or never explained. New names for great groups of ani- 
mals are introduced with the briefest definitions possible. The chapter is, it must 
be confessed, hard reading. And even when we have finished it we are not quite 
sure as to just what sort of animals, for example, the Cotylosauria were, or how 
they differed from the Theriodonta. And much the same is true, though in less 
degree, of the section on the phylogeny of mammals. 

The account of the phylogeny of the horse closes with the statements that its 
"history may be duplicated in manner and mode, by the lines of the camels, the 
"dogs and bears, the cats, the beaver, etc." And "examination of all these lines 
" reveals a certain definiteness of end and directness of approach. We discover no 
4 ' accession of characters which are afterward lost, as would naturally occur as a 
" result of undirected variation." (P. 149.) 

One cannot but feel that the argument of the book would have been strength- 
ened if the author had given us a history of others of these narrower lines of mam- 
malian development, even at the expense of leaving out the discussion of verte- 
brates in general. 

For in this chapter the author seems to the ordinary mind to have undertaken 
the impossible. The chapter should be expanded to a volume, and "writ large" 
so that all could understand. When we remember how largely the material for 
mammalian phylogeny has been discovered in America and studied by American 
palaeontologists ; when we notice the striking similarity between many of the charts 
of Haeckel's Phylogenie and those published more than ten years ago in Cope's 
Origin of the Fittest; when we remember further the numerous references to the 
author's investigations by Professor Zittel in his Palaeontology ; we feel that we 
have a just claim on the author of this book for a work on Vertebrate Phylogeny, 
and that " t'were well 'twere done quickly." 

The third chapter discusses the parallelism between ontogeny and phylogeny, 
and the fourth chapter treats of Katagenesis or degeneration. Here the relation 
between degeneration and akinetogenesis, or lack of use or effort, is well presented. 

In the second part of the work the author treats of the Causes of Variation. 
He says " I propose to cite examples of the direct modifying effect of external in- 
" fluences on the characters of individual animals and plants. These influences 
"fall naturally into two classes, viz., the physico-chemical (molecular), and the 
" mechanical (molar). The modifications so presented are supposed to be the re- 
"sult of the action of the causes in question continued throughout geologic time. 



304 THE MONIST. 

"To the two types of influence which thus express themselves in evolution, I have 
" given the names Physiogenesis and Kinetogenesis. " 

The chapter on physiogenesis contains a very interesting series of observations 
of the effect of light and color on animal coloration. But the chapter might well 
have been longer. The author has selected rather too sparingly from the wealth 
of illustrations which he had at his command. 

Chapter VI. treats of Kinetogenesis or the effects of use and disuse. This is 
the longest and, all in all, the most interesting chapter in the book. The author 
discusses the shells of mollusks, the effects of use on muscles, the results of impacts 
and strains on bones, the origin of dental structures, and other important subjects. 
The argument is clear, strong, and convincing. The chapter contains also an ad- 
mirable account of the origin of osseous vertebrae. 

The third part of the volume treats of the inheritance of variation. In the 
chapter on Heredity the hypothesis concerning the mode of inheritance of acquired 
characteristics is stated with remarkable clearness and precision. The author says : 
" The effects of use and disuse are two-fold, viz.: the effect on the soma, and the 
"effect on the germ-plasma. Those who sustain the view that acquired character- 
istics are inherited, must, I believe, understand it as thus stated. The character 
" must be potentially acquired by the germ-plasma as well as actually by the soma. 
" Those who insist that acquired characters are not inherited forget that the char- 
"acter acquired by the soma is identical with that acquired by the germ-plasma, 
"so that the character acquired by the former is inherited, but not directly. It is 
"acquired contemporaneously by the germ-plasma, and inherited from it. There 
"is then truth in the two apparently opposed positions, and they appear to me to 
" be harmonised by the doctrine above laid down, which I have called the Theory 
" of Diplogenesis, in allusion to the double destination of the effects of use and dis- 
" use in inheritance." (P. 443.) 

The whole chapter is so full of facts, thought, and suggestion that no one quo- 
tation can do it justice. But some of the evidence adduced for the inheritance of 
acquired characters seems decidedly weak. 

The chapter on the Energy of Evolution is especially interesting for its logical 
tendency. The author divides the energies manifested by living beings into those 
which "tend away from, and those which tend toward, the phenomena of life." 
The latter or anagenetic class is exclusively vital, and tends to upward progress, in 
the organic sense, that is toward the increasing control of its environment by the 
organism. The former class, composed of the catagenetic energies, is physical and 
chemical. "The catagenetic energies tend to the creation of a stable equilibrium 
"of matter, in which molar motion is not produced from within, and sensation is 
"impossible. In popular language, the one class of energies tends to life; the 
"other to death." (P. 475.) In another passage he says, "I have given to that 
" energy which is displayed by the plant in the elaboration of living from non-living 
" matter the name of antichemism. " 



BOOK REVIEWS. 305 

The discussion of this apparent "dualism " is exceedingly suggestive, but it is 
too long to give in full, and mere quotations would only do it injustice. 

One great merit of the author's writings is that, while he never undervalues 
the importance of mechanical processes in evolution, he always emphasises the im- 
portance of mind. The Function of Consciousness is well treated in the tenth 
chapter. " Consciousness was coincident with the dawn of life." "It has pre- 
" ceded in time and in history the evolution of the greater part of plants and ani- 
"mals, both unicellular and multicellular. It appears also that, if kinetogenesis 
"be true, consciousness has been essential to a rising scale of organic evolution." 
' ' I think it possible to show that the true definition of life is, energy directed by 
"sensibility, or by a mechanism which has originated under the direction of sensi- 
"bility." (Pp. 508-513.) 

Every action was primitively the result of conscious effort and "the mechan- 
ism which does the work has developed as the result of the animal's exertions under 
stimuli." 

This is good common sense and sound logic. 

We must make just one more quotation : "Why should evolution be progres- 
sive in the face of universal catagenesis? No other ground seems discoverable 
" but the presence of sensation or consciousness, which is, metaphysically speaking, 
" the protoplasm of mind. The two sensations of hunger and sex have furnished 
"the stimuli to internal and external activity, and memory, or experience with 
"natural selection, have been the guides. Mind and body have thus developed 
"contemporaneously and have mutually reacted. Without the co-operation of all 
" these factors, anagenesis seems impossible." 

The book closes with a brief chapter on the Opinions of Neo-Lamarckians. 

It is impossible to give in a brief space an adequate outline of such a book, for 
the wealth of facts and arguments, of new thoughts and suggestions, has to remain 
almost unnoticed. Professor Cope is a peculiarly suggestive writer. Old theories 
are viewed in a new light, are analysed or put in a new or modified form. Scat- 
tered all through the book are facts or hypotheses, sometimes bearing only very 
indirectly on the argument of the chapter, which are full of food for thought. 

The chapter on Phylogeny ends with a section on the Law of the Unspecial- 
ised, a condensed but very clear presentation of the fact that higher types have 
always sprung from generalised forms. This law ought to be more widely promul- 
gated in these days of extreme specialisation ; for almost every one considers it a 
"dead letter." But, if true of physical evolution, and our author certainly very 
nearly demonstrates it, why should it be false in the evolution of the individual 
mind ? 

The frequency and importance of small size in progressive lines, especially in 
mammals, is stated in a single sentence of the same section. Other illustrations 
are the hypotheses concerning the origin of lungs and of bony vertebrae. The 



306 THE MONIST. 

hypothesis concerning the origin of the rhachitomous vertebra, and its illustration 
are especially worthy of notice in this connexion. 

On page four hundred and forty-four sexual reproduction is considered advan- 
tageous "on account of its increased opportunity of variation." But is it yet cer- 
tain that sexual reproduction does not work rather to hinder than to increase varia- 
tion in the group or species ? Does not the intercrossing of forms which have been 
exposed to different conditions, and which are therefore tending to diverge, result 
in holding the species as a whole somewhere near a golden mean of structure and 
progress ? Is not one great danger of the intercrossing of closely related forms to 
be found in the fact that thus individual tendencies of variation are enhanced until 
they are abnormal and injurious ? Indeed, does not nature, so to speak, have to 
keep a brake on the too rapid variation of the central, ascending phylogenetic line 
leading toward man, lest too many of its members rapidly become specialised and 
thus unproductive of anything higher ? There are doubtless other, perhaps even 
more effective, hindrances to specialisation ; but does not sexual reproduction work 
with these rather than against them ? This, if we remember rightly, is Hatschek's 
view; but we may do him injustice. 

The whole book is a marvel of condensation. It is a storehouse of facts, argu- 
ments, and suggestions ; but it is so condensed that it is not easy reading. It is 
very pleasant to come across a scientific article or book where the chaff has been 
carefully removed. They are exceedingly rare, but even the virtue of condensation 
may be exaggerated into a fault. One must read it chapter by chapter. Like some 
condensed foods, it requires good powers of digestion in the user. 

It is moreover the work of a thorough palaeontologist as well as profound stu- 
dent of comparative anatomy. Hence it has a special plage and value. 

But Weismann is a very skilful and wary antagonist, and seems to have a 
defence for every attack. If the palaeontologist can show that variation is really 
linear, Weismann's theory is disproved. And Professor Cope has given us lines 
of mammalian evolution, for example, traced out with great clearness ; and they 
are proven with a vast amount of acumen, skill, and patient observation. It is 
dangerous to try to imagine just what a follower of Weismann would say about any 
subject for the theory is not only complex but also protean ; it changes front to 
every new attack. But might he not make the following objection with some jus- 
tice ? Of all the formerly existing individuals of a series of species of vertebrates 
the palaeontologist has but few specimens and these collected from a comparatively 
narrow area. His material is too scanty to give him any adequate conception of 
the amount of variation of which the species at any one stage was capable. When 
more material has been collected the variation of any species at each stage may 
yet prove to be fortuitous. The forms which survive through successive periods 
of time, or through a series of stages of evolution naturally form more or less 
straight lines of variation, for these lines are favored by natural selection. But 
this linear survival is entirely compatible with a fortuitous variation. Is it not at 



BOOK REVIEWS. 307 

present an almost necessary result of the character of the two fields of study that 
the zoologist should have the advantage in the study of variation, and the palaeon- 
tologist in the study of survival and hence of phylogeny ? And that parallel lines 
of survival should be fostered in different groups by natural selection from fortui- 
tous variation need not surprise us. 

This objection may not apply to inferences drawn from the teeth of mammals 
for here the palaeontologist may have vastly more material than we have supposed. 
And the most devoted follower of Weismann must feel surprise that the lines of 
survival are so straight and with so few branches. We cannot fail to notice how 
largely the palaeontologists are Neo-Lamarckians. 

In the emphasis placed on consciousness, will, and effort, this volume is a 
most valuable and timely contribution. Students of evolution have too generally 
represented not only vital processes but even life itself as almost or quite purely 
mechanical, molecular, or chemical. Hence they have either neglected or slurred 
all its mental aspects. They have sought the living among the dead until they for- 
get what life is and what are its chief characteristics. For supremacy of mind 
over material, and finally over itself, is the evident goal of evolution. All such 
purely mechanical or chemical theories, when applied to human progress, neces- 
sarily proved misleading or useless. 

But when life is defined as "energy directed by sensibility," each of its aspects 
has received its due emphasis. Well may the author claim that "from this point 
of view the study of the evolution of mind and its relation to the organic world as- 
sumes a new importance." 

Now and then the book reminds us of the writings of the Apostle Paul ; "in 
which are some things hard to be understood, which they that are unlearned wrest 
unto their own destruction." Bathmism we can remember, and its meaning also. 
But what of Statogenesis, Emphytogenesis, Autobathmogeny, Mnemogenesis, and 
Cryptopnoy? If even Mephistopheles had seen these and sundry other compounds 
which occur in the volume, he could hardly have found it in his heart to urge an 
unsuspecting student to "learn words." 

Any one who will read this book carefully and thoughtfully cannot fail to have 
a new, and clearer, and more just, conception of the factors and the process of 
evolution ; and will find his mind continually stimulated to think along new lines. 

JOHN M. TYLER. 

OSTWALD'S KLASSIKER DER EXAKTEN WISSENSCHAFTEN. A Serial Publication, at 
Present Embracing More than Eighty Works in Mathematics, Physics, As- 
tronomy, Chemistry, Crystallography, Botany, and Physiology. Edited by 
Prof. Dr. Arthur von Oettingen. Leipsic : Wilhelm Engelmann. 
The impression is a widespread one in the popular mind that novelty in sci- 
ence, like novelty in the practical arts, constitutes by the very fact and virtue of its 
novelty an advance upon the old, supplanting and undoing it. The popular mind, 



308 THE MONIST. 

and with it its reflex popular pedagogy, is in error here, in error principally by its 
inability to grasp the salient and fundamental features differentiating knowledge, 
and secondarily by its utter lack of sense for the exigencies of historical and cos- 
mical development a joint, or rather disjoint, mental condition which leads peo- 
ple lower in the scale of intelligence (say our school-boards) to welcome revisions 
of the multiplication-table with the same unfeigned delight that the biologist does 
modifications of Dr. Weismann's theory of heredity. The sciences exhibit varied 
degrees of a priority and formal rigor ranging from arithmetic to psychology, 
their development has not been contemporaneous, and consequently they are not 
all at the same stage of perfection. In some we can hope for but little more than 
new and ingenious presentations, while in others we may expect at any day as- 
tounding revelations. We must distinguish between the two classes of knowledge. 
In the former it is not likely that the same pitch of excellence will again be at- 
tained, that we shall ever again in these departments reach the same naturalness 
and power of thought or the same beauty of exposition for the sufficient reason 
that genius will never again apply itself to these departments with equal fervor. 
The very necessity of such application is wanting, for a truth once discovered re- 
mains a truth forever, and is not in need of rediscovery. Such is one of the con- 
siderations which in certain branches of knowledge, and under certain restrictions, 
turns our glance to the past. 

But there is another. In this decadent age, with its tendency to intellectual 
democracy, when every Tom, Dick, and Harry may yield to the unholy impulse to 
mutilate science, the prime necessity in the spirit which shapes research is a sane 
conservatism. Not a conservatism which cleaves slavishly to old ideals and methods, 
which apotheosises old models and stifles the impulses of originality, but a con- 
servatism which ever keeps before the student's mind the marks of high achieve- 
ment and lofty standards, and holds to his ears the memory-ring of true genius. 
We are concerned here merely with the plea, which all history confirms, that it 
is not given to every man and age to reach Olympian heights in their perform- 
ances, but that some are preferred before others. That aggregation of the cosmic 
elements which went to make a Michael Angelo, a Kepler, a Shakespeare, or a 
Kant, is not compacted by the Divine Artificer or Zeitgeist in every age of the 
world's history, though it may be in the making to-day or to-morrow. Inevitably, 
therefore, and as it were by the very eccentricities of the universe, by the very 
conditions of intellectual evolution, we are led back to the Golden Ages of Science, 
Art, or Literature whenever we would seek our highest inspiration and culture. 

Some such objects as these, at least on the aesthetical and theoretic side, it is 
the purpose of Ostwald's Series of Scientific Classics to promote. The series itself 
is, in its department, one of the most important and deserving enterprises which 
have been undertaken in recent years. It derives its name from its original editor. 
Dr. Ostwald, who, on the assumption of that post by Dr. Arthur von Oettingen, 
likewise an indefatigable scholar, has not ceased his collaboration, but still con- 



BOOK REVIEWS. 309 

tinues to enrich the series by selections, translations, and special editorial work. 
Having originated with a man who, as his recent utterances show, is keenly alive 
to the stupendous practical import of science, the philosophical, aesthetical, and 
purely historical ends which the series may primarily seem designed to satisfy, are 
extended in their significance so as to embrace broad practical aspects of the scien- 
tist's culture. 

We shall now address ourselves to the contents of the series, beginning with 
mathematics, and taking up first the Calculus of Variations. It will be profitable 
here to quote, on the advantages of historical scientific study, the words of Robert 
Woodhouse, a Cambridge mathematician, the original pioneer in this depart- 
ment, who, in his Treatise on Isoperimetrical Problems, published in 1810, after 
mentioning the stimulus afforded to the student's curiosity and attention by a com- 
bination of historical and systematic researches, says : 

" But other advantages, besides that of an excited attention, may accrue to 
" the student from the present plan. He will have an opportunity of observing 
" how a calculus, from simple beginnings, by easy steps, and seemingly the slight- 
" est improvements, is advanced to perfection; his curiosity, too, maybe stimu- 
"lated to an examination of the works of the contemporaries of Newton ; works 
" once read and celebrated : yet the writings of the Bernoullis are not antiquated 
"from loss of beauty, nor deserve neglect, either from obscurity, or clumsiness of 
"calculation, or shallowness of research. Their processes, indeed, are occasion- 
" ally somewhat long, and want the trim form of modern solution. They are not, 
" however, therefore the less adapted to the student, who is solicitotts for just and 
"full views of science, rather than for neat novelties and mere store of results. In- 
' ' deed, the authors who write near the 1 beginnings of science are, in general, the most 
' instructive; they take the reader more along with them, show him the real dijficttl- 
" ties, and, which is the main point, teach him the subject, the way by which they 
" themselves learned it." * 

For this study, and precisely on the subject Woodhouse had in mind, we have 
in numbers 46 and 47 of Ostwald's Series abundant material. The initial isoperi- 
metrical problems of the Bernoullis are given, the Methodus inveniendi of Euler, . 
the two papers of Lagrange, and the two of Legendre and Jacobi. Wholly apart 
from its scientific importance, there is scarcely a chapter in the history of research 
that can compare with that of the Calculus for Variations in its intensely human in- 
terest. The challenges and strife of the Bernoullis, ending in a bitter feud between 
the two brothers, the magnanimous generosity of Euler, at that time prince of 
European mathematicians, who withheld the publication of certain researches till 
the young Lagrange should publish his, that the latter might not be robbed of 
"one iota of the rightful fame" due to him for his exquisite solution all combine 
to make this period of mathematical history entrancingly interesting. Euler's letter 

1 Italics are ours. 



310 THE MONIST. 

is a model of the scientific attitude. " Your analytical solution of the isoperimetrical 
problem," he writes to the boy who was thenceforth to share his laurels, "leaves 
"nothing to be desired in this department of inquiry, and I am delighted beyond 
' ' measure that it has been your lot to carry to the highest pitch of perfection a 
"theory which I have been almost the only one to cultivate from its inception." 

Or take another incident. Of the numerous problems which John Bernoulli 
showered upon the mathematical world in the latter part of the seventeenth cen- 
tury, and which were generally supposed to have been aimed at his brother James, 
the most famous and the one fraught with the greatest significance for science, was 
that of the brachistocrone, or the curve of quickest descent. It was answered by 
Leibnitz, Newton, De 1'Hospital, and by James Bernoulli, the latter of whom re- 
torted by a counter-challenge involving a more general problem, and ended by add- 
ing that since it was unjust that any one should go unrecompensed for labor on 
behalf of another and to the detriment of his own affairs, a gentlemen for whom 
James would vouch pledged himself to give his brother meet praise and fifty ducats 
besides, provided the latter would furnish a solution of the problem within three 
months and publish the same within a year. The time-limit John did not take ad- 
vantage of, but published his solution immediately, saying that "instead of three 
months it had only taken him three minutes to penetrate the whole mystery." But 
in one point he had erred. James, to the terror of his brother, increased his wagers 
in geometrical proportion, and when John ultimately refused to revise bis solution 
on the plea that his time was much better occupied in making new discoveries, 
gave the crowning retort-courteous in the reply ' ' that if in three minutes he had 
solved the whole mystery, surely six minutes more would not much diminish the 
number of his discoveries." The wrangling of the two brothers continued till the 
death of James. It had its dark sides, but from its very passion was unusually fruit- 
ful for science. We may add that the view of John's unfairness taken by English his- 
torians is not wholly accepted by Cantor. Not all the material of the Bernoulli 
feud is given in the two Classics under consideration, but only the initial pro- 
grammata : the rest is devoted to the modern developments mentioned. 

We have also to mention in mathematics the two Treatises on Spherical Trig- 
onometry (No. 73) by Euler, which are fundamental in their department. The 
didactic works oi Euler are available to-day as text-books ; and, notably in trigo- 
nometry, little has been added to the science since his time. His diffuseness is 
scarce a fault, and it is a significant comment on the methods of discovery that, 
though many of his demonstrations lack the boasted modern rigor, yet the theorems 
themselves have generally withstood all assault. On the other hand, the natural- 
ness and lucidity of his explanations might well be readopted in modern instruc- 
tion. Euler traversed like a conqueror the entire domain of mathematics, trans- 
forming and augmenting it at every step. Creator and systematiser, he left 
everywhere his giant impress. With him, therefore, and particularly in our days 
of specialisation, intercourse is quickening and chastening. 



BOOK REVIEWS. 311 

The other mathematicians represented in the Series are Gauss, Steiner, Jacobi, 
Abel, Bravais, Laplace, Dirichlet, Charles Ivory, Rosenhain, and Gopel. 

We come now to Physics. The first works to claim our attention are: (r) 
the Dialogues of Galileo, in three small volumes (Nos. n, 24, and 25),* admirably 
translated by Dr. Oettingen, and (2) Huygens's Treatise on Light, translated by E. 
Lommel. The Dialogues of Galileo rank as one of the loftiest achievements of the 
human intellect. They are as perfect in their literary form as they are momen- 
tous in their contents, and mark the real beginning of modern science. "They did 
not," says Lagrange, 2 "procure for Galileo, during his lifetime, the celebrity of his 
discoveries in the heavens, but to-day they constitute the solidest and realest portion 
of his transcendent glory. The discovery of the satellites of Jupiter, of the phases of 
Venus, of the spots of the sun, etc., required but telescopes and assiduity ; but extra- 
ordinary genius was necessary to disentangle the laws of nature from phenomena 
which philosophers had always had before their eyes, but whose explanation con- 
stantly eluded their efforts." We can grasp Galileo's gigantic performance only by 
transplanting ourselves to the time in which he lived, by contemplating its abso- 
lute intellectual dependence on authority, and by recollecting that he worked 
almost entirely without instruments. One is struck by his unfailing common sense 
and insistence on practical points of view, his grace and lucidity of presentation, his 
simplicity and directness (a point in which he is the direct opposite of Kepler), and 
by his skilful manipulation of the cumbersome mathematical methods of his time. 
The inspiration to bs derived from these volumes is surpassed only by the insight 
which they afford into the workings of the archetypal inquiring mind. In this their 
psychological value they stand without a peer. 

Huygens is the second brightest star in the scientific firmament of the six- 
teenth century. He continued and supplemented with equal genius the work of 
Galileo, and founded in his Horologiiun Oscillatorium the second parallel develop- 
ment of mechanical ideas which ended in the modern doctrine of energy. He is 
represented in Ostwald's Series by his famous Traite de la Lnmiere, which laid the 
founeations of the modern undulatory theory of light and which shows at their 
best the brilliant qualities of his mind. So powerful was the thrall of Newton's 
genius even on its mightiest side it deadened the mathematical development of 
England during a whole century that under the shadow of the corpuscular theory 
Huygens's ideas, despite their simplicity, remained undeveloped for fully three gen- 
erations. The historical significance of the Treatise goes without saying ; its dis- 
ciplinary value is equally high. The masterly exposition of the facts and law of 
double refraction in Chapter V., says Lommel, is instructionally superior to that of 
the best of modern text-books. The Horologium Oscillatorium is missing from the 
series, but it is hoped the deficiency will soon be supplied. 

IThe prices of the volumes of the series vary according to the size. Full catalogues may be 
obtained by addressing W. Engelinann, Verlagsbuchhandlung, Leipsic, Germany. 
IMecanique Analytique, Vol. I., p. 237, Collected Works, Paris, 1888. 



312 THE MONIST. 

Notable, also, are the New Magdeburg Experiments of Otto von Guericke (No. 
59), with their quaint drawings, their ponderous and costly equipments (the 
BUrgermeister spent 20,000 thalers on his apparatus and received as honorarium 
for his published work only a few free copies), and lastly with their delightful 
glimpses into the industrial life of the seventeenth century. The third book only 
of the work is published and contains the experiments on atmospheric pressure sub- 
stantially as they are given to-day in the elementary school-books. 

In No. 57 we have Fahrenheit, Re'aumur, and Celsius's papers on Thermome- 
try. It is curious to note that the mark 100 was originally placed by Celsius at 
the freezing point, and o at the boiling point. 

Lambert's Photometry takes up three volumes (Nos. 31, 32, 33). Lambert was 
a foremost member of that brilliant band of talented men which made the 
eighteenth century a classical period in science. His versatility is remarkable, and 
as he was almost entirely self-taught and worked the fields of knowledge after his 
own sturdy fashion, he is both original and instructive, but at the same time dif- 
fuse. He was concerned mostly with general points of view and negligent in his 
experiments. His entire apparatus while constructing his Photometry (which is 
a pioneer-work in its branch) consisted of three little mirrors, two lenses, a pair of 
glass plates, and a prism. He persisted in using these instruments even in Berlin, 
where the best apparatus stood at his disposal, and his skill in the manipulation of 
his tools is remarkable. The treatise on Photometry is largely antiquated, yet the 
charm of its originality, its solid nucleus of truth, still render it a readable work. 
"Delivered to-day," says the editor, E. Anding, "it would, despite its diffuseness, 
specialisation, and repetitions, form an excellent lecture-course in photometric 
methods " Lambert's character and heart are highly lauded by his contempora- 
ries, and it is said that his fine countenance gave Lavater the first suggestion and 
stimulus to his physiognomical studies. 

An extremely important number is that devoted to the researches on the Ex- 
pansive Law of Gases (No. 44), and containing the papers of Gay-Lussac, Dalton, 
Dulong, Petit, Rudberg, Magnus, and Regnault. This succession of researches, 
comprised within the modest compass of 200 pages, is intimately connected with 
the enunciation of the notion of absolute temperature, and constitutes by the vicis- 
situdes of its development one of the most instructive chapters in the history of 
science. 

Number 63 is devoted to the first researches in Electromagnetism and contains 
Oersted's brief account of his discovery of the deflexion of a magnetic needle by an 
electric current, as also an abstract of Seebeck's lectures on the Magnetism of the 
Galvanic Circuit. 

The extraordinary work of Sadi Carnot, Reflexions sur la puissance motrice du 
feu, etc., forms No. 37. Carnot died at the early age of thirty-six (at the same 
age as Hertz), and his work, though containing the germs of much that was neces- 
sary to the formulation of the principle of the conservation of energy, lay almost 






BOOK REVIEWS. 313 

unnoticed for a quarter of a century. If we could interpret Carnot's ideas by the 
right intellectual environment we should be justified in denominating him the dis- 
coverer of the important principle known as the first law of thermodynamics. It is 
certain that his methods led to its discovery and that his work contains substan- 
tially the material now formulated in the second law. Carnot's results were known 
to Helmholtz, whose treatise on the Conservation of Force, with Helmholtz's own 
notes, edited in 1889, forms the first issue of Ostwald's Classics. 

Finally, we have in Physics and Astronomy the Spectrum Analysis of Kirch- 
hoff and Bunsen, Gauss's researches on Terrestrial Magnetism and on Forces Act- 
ing Inversely as the Square of the Distances, Bessel on the Length of the Second's 
Pendulum, Neumann on the Mathematical Theory of Induced Electric Currents, 
Kant on the Theory of the Heavens, Coulomb, Galvani, Hittorf and Seebeck on 
Electricity and Magnetism, Lavoisier and Laplace on Heat, and so on. In Botany 
and Physiology but few numbers have as yet appeared. They are essays by Saus- 
sure, Pasteur, Kolreuter, Sprengel, Knight, Weber, Ludwig, Becher, Rahn, and 
Ernst Brucke. 

The department of Chemistry alone remains. As might be expected, it is richly 
represented. The Dissertation on Fire and Water (No. 58), by Carl Wilhelm 
Scheele, the Swedish chemist, written in 1777, remains to-day a marvel of sim- 
plicity. A person of common education may read the little book and repeat its ex- 
periments with the instruments and ideas which every-day life affords. Scheele, in 
Ostwald's opinion, possessed the distinctive qualifications of the chemist in their 
highest development, his experimental skill and powers of inference having never 
before or since been reached. No. 3 gives the treatises of Dalton and Wollaston 
on the Atomic Theory. The papers of Dalton are interesting as showing how with 
inexact analysis and experiments Dalton's thought yet compassed and enunciated so 
important a principle as the atomic hypothesis. We have here also the first table 
of atomic weights and the enunciation of Dalton's important theory of the constitu- 
tion of bodies, and his law of constant and multiple proportions. The paper of 
Wollaston supplements Dalton's work, and gives experiments that for facility and 
cogency may be regarded to-day as the best experimental demonstrations of Dal- 
ton's laws. It is perhaps unknown to the majority of students that Wollaston was 
the first who attempted to draw up a more exact picture of the nature of chemical 
combination by the spatial disposition of atoms. 

The speculative researches of Avogadro and Ampere on the foundations of the 
molecular theory are given in No. 8, the researches of Berthollet on the laws of 
affinity in No. 74, and the famous investigations of Berthollet's pupil, Gay-Lus- 
sac, on iodine in No. 4. Gay-Lussac's paper is accounted the most perfect and 
exhaustive original investigation of a single chemical element that exists. The dis- 
covery of a new element has never been exploited with such thoroughness as in this 
monograph of the great French chemist. The series also contains the treatises of 



314 THE MONIST. 

Meyer and Mendelejeff, and dissertations by Liebig, Bunsen, Pasteur, Berzelius, 
Davy, etc. 

In the case of many of the older investigators, the editors of the Series have 
reproduced only what they deemed important. The Series is not, therefore, in all 
cases 3. full reprint of the scientific classics. It might have been desirable, further, 
to print the texts of the originals along with the German translations. Although 
probably not warranted from a commercial point of view, this step would have 
made the Series international in its character and usefulness. Altogether, we can- 
not close without words of high commendation for the undertaking, nor without 
expressing the hope that its range of usefulness will be extensive and its fruits 
beneficent. THOMAS J. MCCORMACK. 

VORLESUNGEN UEBER GESCHicHTE DER MATHEMATiK. By Moritz Cantor. Leipsic : 
B. G. Teubner. 1894-1896. Price, Vol. I., 22 Marks; Vol. II., 24 Marks; 
Vol. III., Two Installments, 12 Marks. 

It would be impossible to do justice to this monumental work within the brief 
limits of a book review, even if the task were not rendered supererogatory by the 
high standing of the work and the acknowledged authority of its author. Cantor's 
Lectures on the History of Mathematics are the work of a man who has unswerv- 
ingly devoted a life-time to this single task, who thirty-three years ago was well 
known for his important contributions to this subject, and who can now in the 
second edition of the first volume of his great work point with pride to the impulse 
and awakened interest which his endeavors have aroused in the historical studies of 
his science. He has had many predecessors, each of whom has distinguished himself 
in certain branches and by certain excellences Montucla who excelled in lucidity, 
elegance, and popularity ; Libri who seems to have united in an eminent degree all 
the qualities necessary to the makeup of a writer of a universal mathematical his- 
tory, but whose work extends only to the period preceding Galileo in Italy ; Han- 
kel, whose contributions to the history of early mathematics are marked by much 
acumen ; and several others. Nevertheless, it may safely be said that profundity, 
accuracy, and extensiveness of treatment have never before in any history of math- 
ematics been so thoroughly and intimately united as in the three volumes con- 
stituting these Lectures of Moritz Cantor. The first volume embraces the period 
from earliest antiquity to the year 1200 A. D. and Is now in its second edition, 
thoroughly revised and brought down to date (1894). The second volume embraces 
the time from 1200 to 1668 A. D. The third and last volume will comprise the 
time from 1668 to 1759, concluding with the first epoch-making papers of Lagrange 
in the Proceedings of the Turin Academy. The first two installments only of this 
third volume have appeared (1894-1896), the third is still in preparation. 

In the Introduction to Volume I., which contains 883 pages with a chart of 
ancient numerical characters, we have some brief philosophical considerations 
concerning the psychological origin of mathematical operations and the invention 



BOOK REVIEWS. 315 

of numerical signs. As to the theory that the first numerical words originally de- 
noted not numbers but definite objects, Prof. Cantor remarks that philology has 
not succeeded in proving its position. Nor can he himself offer much to the solu- 
tion of the problem. We are on sure ground, he says, only when we come to de- 
rivative numerical words. We have also some interesting remarks on the various 
systems of numbers, namely, the decimal, vigesimal, undecimal, sexigesimal sys- 
tems, etc. The true history of mathematics, the author contends, begins only with 
the first written monuments and inscriptions which are presumably found in Egypt. 
55 pages are devoted to the mathematics of Egypt, 31 to that of the Babylonians, 
65 to that of the Indians, 29 to that of the Chinese, and 118 to that of the Arabs. 
The remaining three divisions of the first book are devoted to the mathematical 
achievements of the Greeks, which naturally take up the largest space, and to 
those of the Romans and of the early mediaeval monasteries. The researches of 
the ancient nations are extremely interesting, not only from the point of view of 
mathematical history but equally so from that of philosophy and psychology. Their 
insight and errors are of extreme importance, and it is both profitable and fascinat- 
ing to witness the primitive operations of the human mind as employed upon this 
its surest and most fundamental subject. Of the Greeks the most interesting chap- 
ters are those relating to Pythagoras and Archimedes. Dr. Cantor gave long ago, 
in his Mathematische Beitriige zum Kulturleben der Volker, 1863, a charming ap- 
preciation of the life and achievements of Pythagoras, only differing from the 
chapter on the great philosopher in the present work by being more popular and 
less exhaustive. In Archimedes we have the man who may be regarded as the in- 
carnation of the mathematical genius of antiquity, and the chapter devoted to him 
shows at its best the precious heritage which he left to us. It is surprising to note 
to what a pitch the Indians advanced arithmetic and algebra, and also to follow 
the work of the Arabs. In fine, the entire first volume is a book which can be read 
and consulted by writers of average elementary mathematical attainments, and 
offers material from which all readers may draw profit and entertainment. 

The year 1200 was an important one in the history of European Mathematics, 
and is fitly chosen as the beginning of the second volume. Christianity was then 
in possession of the art of arithmetic, as it had been recovered from its different 
ancient and Eastern sources. It was also in possession of the zero and of the 
the no less important principle of the positional value of figures. Algebra, as far 
as equations of the first and second degree, had been compassed, the geometry of 
Euclid, the astronomy of Ptolemy, the writings of Theodosius, and of Menelaus, 
existed in Latin translations, and appositely to the right time came the right men 
who were destined to achieve great things in mathematical science, Leonardo of 
Pisa and Jordanus Nemorarius. 

"Leonardo," says Cantor, "was a practised arithmetician and geometer, an 
ingenious algebraist, conversant with the application of algebra to geometry, as 
well as a creative genius of high rank in the theory of numbers." Jordanus 



316 THE MONIST. 

Nemorarius was a priest and member of a powerful order; he fell little short of 
Leonardo in point of mathematical ability, but by reason of his ecclesiastical posi- 
tion his influence was more powerful and decisive than that of the other who was 
a merchant. From these two great landmarks the second volume traces the history 
of mathematics through the early developments of algebra and geometry in Eng- 
land, France, Italy, and Germany, including Nicolaus of Cusa, Regiomontanus, 
Leonardo da Vinci, Luca Paciuolo, Michael Stifel, etc., down to the researches on 
cubic equations by Cardano and Tartaglia, where the first installment ends. The 
second installment is devoted to the advances made in cyclometry and trigonom- 
etry by Vieta, Van Roomen, etc., to the researches on equations of the fourth de- 
gree by Bombelli, etc., Kepler's and Pascal's investigations in geometry, the rise 
of mechanics, logarithms, continued fractions, the theory of numbers, analytical 
geometry, and lastly to the germs of the infinitesimal calculus in Kepler, Cavalieri, 
and most notably of all in Fermat. The volume concludes with the year 1668-1669, 
a momentous epoch in the history of mathematics, for at that time Gottfried Wil- 
helm Leibnitz was publishing at Leipsic his Doctor's dissertation, and Isaac New- 
ton had just been elected to the chair of Mathematics in Cambridge University 
England. 

With this epoch the second volume begins. The period which follows is of all 
that of most import for modern mathematics, and its utterances are associated 
with the most interest for professional readers. The first installment deals with 
the "geometrical character" of Leibnitz, with certain developments of commercial 
arithmetic, with the history of series as developed by Mercator, Brouncker, Gregory, 
Newton, Leibnitz, Halley, De Moivre, James Bernoulli, with continued fractions, 
the theory of curves, etc. We have also in this installment a chapter on Newton 
and Leibnitz's first discoveries in the domain of the infinitesimal calculus, chapters 
on Leibnitz and on the brothers Bernoulli both preceding and during their famous 
strife. The great controversy concerning the priority of invention of the differen- 
tial calculus between the followers of Newton and Leibnitz, a controversy which 
excited the mathematical world for more than twenty-five years, and which was 
really not definitively settled until the present century, takes up a good part of 
the second and latest installment of Cantor's third volume. There is now, of 
course, little to be said upon the subject of this controversy, and Cantor does not 
claim to add much to its elucidation, except to point out an omission made in the 
copying of a letter by Leibnitz to Wallis of the word hodie, which might easily 
have led to certain suspicions in the English mind as to Leibnitz's fair dealings. 
His conclusion is that now that both great inquirers have received their just share 
of the credit owing to them for their discoveries, a careful and unprejudiced exami- 
nation of the controversy unfortunately shows that the conduct of the matter re- 
flected no little discredit upon all parties concerned. The last installment closes 
with the developments of the calculus, of Algebra, and of analytical and projective 
geometry down to the year 1726. The work of Euler and his period remains. 



BOOK REVIEWS. 317 

Cantor's history now comprises 2218 pages. The final installment, reaching 
to the year 1759, and which is yet to appear, will certainly not increase its bulk to 
much over 2600 pages, leaving the vast material from the date of Lagrange's first 
memoirs on to be elaborated by another hand. The history will thus hardly exceed 
in size some of its predecessors, but it will contain proportionately more material, 
from its being almost exclusively devoted to the solider scientific aspects of its sub- 
ject and not so much to biographical and personal details, which served so greatly 
to swell the work of Montucla. In fine, it is far and away the concisest, yet most 
comprehensive and authoritative treatment of the subject that we have. As such, it 
is the indispensable adjunct of every mathematical worker and absolutely necessary 
in every mathematical library. T. J. McC. 

PHYSIKALISCH-CHEMISCHE PROPAEDEUTIK. Unter besonderer Beriicksichtigung 
der medicinischen Wissenschaften und mit historischen und biographischen 
Angaben. Von Professor Dr. Med. et Phil. H. Griesbach. Erste Halfte. 
272 Pages. Price, M. 6. Zweite Halfte, I. Lieferung, 320 Pages. Price, M. 7. 
Leipsic : Wilhelm Engelmann. 1895 and 1896. 

The present work is in the nature of an encyclopaedic introduction to medi- 
cine, and deals with the specific chemical and physical facts, as well as methods, 
which enter into the foundations and structure of that science. The work is pub- 
lished in two parts, comprising three installments of some 300 pages each, and cov- 
ers an unusually vast field. Its author is a man of scientific attainments and of 
wide and profound bibliographical knowledge. He has materially added to the at- 
tractiveness of the work by interweaving with his expositions a great mass of bio- 
graphical and historical data. Each subject treated acquires thus a developmen- 
tal form, well adapted to strengthening the memory of the student for the different 
subjects. Altogether, we have in the book an abridged history of science, and even 
of philosophy, the main subjects of which are also incidentally touched upon. 
Since the work presumes no special scientific or mathematical knowledge, it may 
be used with profit by every student, no matter what his profession or sphere of ac- 
tivity, the material it offers being such as should be known by every educated mem- 
ber of society. Further, on all the subjects coming within the designation of the 
" propaedeutics of physics and chemistry " it constitutes a valuable reference book 
of the facts, and more especially of the literature, as also an etymological diction- 
ary of scientific terms. That many dubious philosophical considerations should 
have slipped into a work which covers so vast a field and sounds the depths of so 
many sciences is natural and intelligible. This we shall see in the following review 
of the contents : 

We have in Chapter I. a discussion of the character of science and logic ; in 
Chapter II. a discussion of the character, method, and aim of physical science; 
Chapter III. treats of the origin of physical and chemical science and of scientific 
observation ; in Chapter IV. space and time are treated. Here the author takes the 



318 THE MONIST. 

position that the questions why space is three-dimensional and time is one-dimen- 
sional, are problems that lie totally without the bounds of human comprehension. 
Even his own views on the subject are not confidently pronounced, for who, he 
says, would dare to assert he had found the solution of questions thus hovering 
at the boundary-line of human thought. 

In Chapter V. we have a brief note on causality. In Chapters VI., VII., and 
VIII. we have a good presentation of the principles of mensuration and of metrical 
systems, of the graphic representation of natural phenomena and of the measure- 
ment of space and time, all of which is accompanied by appropriate descriptions 
and illustrations of instruments and methods. One of the most important chap- 
ters is that on matter, energy, work, and force, into which considerable metaphy- 
sical speculation has been introduced. 'Apart from mind, 1 the author asserts, 'we 
' find but one thing possessing real and absolute existence in the world, and this 
' one thing we call substance. Substance comprises matter and energy, and when 
' we speak of matter and energy we must be understood as making the tacit as- 
' sumption that both are simply integral parts of one and the same substance. ' 

We catch at once the author's metaphysical point of view. He says further : 
' That which science calls matter is identical with but one of the component parts 
' of the substance present in the physical cosmos. Further, it is practically impos- 
' sible to conceive of dynamic effects as not proceeding from some vehicle. Conse- 
' quently energy, as the component part of a substance, must itself be substantial, 
' has the same right to be considered such as matter. Energy is not an independent 
' substance, but, combined with and supplementing matter, it forms, together with 
' the latter, the ultimate uncreatable and indestructible substance that constitutes 
'the physical All.' 

Heat, light, and electricity are sub-species of energy, and the author finds no 
philosophical impediment in saying that energy possesses a capacity to perform work. 
The development of the theory of energy has been made the basis of this work, 
and the philosophical interpretation of its significance is a point upon which the 
author apparently lays great stress. We have only to add that so deeply has the 
power of the chemical and molecular theories of physics impressed his mind that 
he actually proposes a molecular hypothesis of energy. Even Professor Ostwald, 
who has approached this conception very nearly, writes in a private letter to Dr. 
Griesbach that he sees at present no occasion for a molecular hypothesis of energy. 
It is certainly difficult to see what satisfaction the solution of a problem can give 
which simply refers its difficulties farther and farther back and associates them 
with less palpable and more tenuous particles. If such theories can satisfy the mind 
in the long run, it will not be long before we shall be conceiving of motion as a 
substance. 

Chapter XI. treats of the measurement of velocity ; Chapters XII. and XIII. 
of centrifugal forces and their practical applications, of friction and obstacles to 
motion ; Chapters XIV., XV., XVI., and XVII. treat of the divisibility and constitu- 



BOOK REVIEWS. 3IQ 

tion of ponderable matter, of the important question of the constitution of the ether, 
of the history of atomistic theories and of organic and inorganic matter. In the fol- 
lowing chapters, so far as the second installment, we have discussions of the poros- 
ity of matter, with demonstrations and suggestions of its significance in applied 
science. Atmospheric pressure is treated, barometers, and manometers fully de- 
scribed, and finally, there is a long and important chapter on aggregate states of 
matter. The biological and physiological chapters in the first two installments 
contain a wealth of material, brought down to date. The pathogenic properties of 
organised matter are treated of here, the conditions of fermentation and of the pro- 
duction of disease by bacteria, with good studies of typical forms of micro-organ- 
isms. The bibliography is particularly full and valuable. 

The third installment, which has not yet reached our hands, will deal mainly 
with the science of energetics, including heat, gravitation, radiant and chemical 
energy, discussing the sources of energy, its laws, the foundations of modern chem- 
istry, and not omitting other branches of physics which are of importance in the 
propaedeutical studies which the author has in view. 



ESSAIS SUR LA PHILOSOPHIE DES SCIENCES. Analyse. Mecanique. Par C. De 
Freycinet. Paris : Gauthier-Villars et fils. 1896. Pages, 336. 

M. Freycinet seeks to answer such questions as, What is the exact nature of 
the notions of infinity and infinitesimal quantities whereon the higher analysis 
rests? Wherein does the "invention of Leibnitz " differ from the common alge- 
bra ? What share of the contents of mechanical principles is to be assigned to 
reasoning and what to experience ? What assures the conservation of force and 
energy ? May we predict a gradual slackening of the causes that agitate matter ? 
And so forth. 

The notions of Analysis, M. Freycinet contends, are derived directly from the 
notions of space and time, which for him are necessary, infinite, continuous, and 
homogeneous. His speculations on this topic are essentially based upon the re- 
flexions of Pascal who, he says, would certainly have invented the Differential Cal- 
culus had he not been early called away from science by his excessive religiosity. 
Infinity is immanent in nature and inherent in mind, escaping intimate comprehen- 
sion, yet serving accurately our purposes, a necessary attribute of the world of 
sense and intellect : and hence its power. The parallelism of mind and nature, in 
fact, runs all through M. Freycinet's book, and furnishes him with a satisfactory 
key to many metaphysical problems. So here, after an examination of the Calcu- 
lus and of its applicability to Physics, he finds " that the Infinitesimal Analysis is 
alike admirably adapted to the phenomena of nature and to the conceptions of hu- 
man reason, apparently forming a bond of union between the intellect and the 
outer world, which is the highest commendation one can bestow upon it. " And 
the same consideration is applied to the notions of Mechanics, where it is said 
that "the human mind and nature form integral parts of the same system, by vir- 
tue of which the one is richly equipped for the comprehension of the other;" 
and he illustrates his idea by the example of the Apollonian discovery of conic 
sections, centuries before their employment as a model of the planetary system. 
Generally Mr. Freycinet's reflexions upon the subject of limits and the infinitesi- 
mal method are lucid and unobjectionable, and from their simplicity may be re- 



320 THE MONIST. 

commended to elementary students. He finds the two ideas of limits and infini- 
tesimals to be conjoint, correlative notions, not at all illogical, and sees the differ- 
ence of common algebra and the infinitesimal method in the sameness, the simple 
more-or-less-ness, of the quantities dealt with by the former, and the non-identity, 
not excluding a sort of homogeneity, of the variables and limits of the latter. 

In the chapters on Mechanics, we have numerous elucidative discussions, at 
times not unmixed with metaphysics. On the ground that the slightest impulse 
can impart motion to the largest mass, we are led to the statement that "resistance 
is never in the body but always without the body," a proposition full of light and 
truth, but entirely depending on the definition of "resistance," and when true 
only equivalent to its premise. After an examination of the circle-argument in- 
volved in the description of mass in terms of quantity of matter, mass is defined 
as "the expression of relative mobility." 

One ingenious point is the enunciation of the idea of dynamic capacity, an an- 
alogue of calorific capacity, or of the idea of specific heat. We may say, according 
to the author, that the same volumes of water, lead, mercury, etc., absorb different 
quantities of force or "impulsion," just as they do different quantities of heat. And 
as we construct scales of specific heats, so we could construct dynamic scales of 
bodies, which would give what is commonly called their "quantity of matter" or 
mass. We see here the form Physics might have taken on, had it been possible to 
start from heat instead of motions of masses. The idea, at least in its order, is not 
new. 1 

M. Freycinet insists clearly and repeatedly on the separation of experience 
from reason in the contents of Mechanics, and also on many other sound funda- 
mental doctrines. We have not time to enter into the physical metaphysics of the 
latter chapters of M. Freycinet's book ; we wish merely to indicate the scope and 
general aim of the work. M. Freycinet is a distinguished French engineer, a mem- 
ber of the National Institute, and already well known as a writer upon the philo- 
sophical aspects of scientific questions. He has always applied himself by predi- 
lection to the questions involved in the epistemological foundations of the Calculus 
and mechanics, and his present work is a continuation of former investigations in 
this domain. One is constrained to admire the conciseness and directness of his 
expositions, as also the apt and simple style in which they are conveyed. Altogether 
we have a very readable book, combining commendable internal and external ex- 
cellences. T. J. McC. 



N. B. Reviews of works by Dr. Jodl, Dr. Eucken, Dr. Mach, Dr. Ratto, and 
others have been crowded out of the present Monist, as have also the "Contents of 
Periodicals." 



1 See Mach, Ueber die Erhaltung der Arbeit, Prague, 1872; Popular Scientific Lectures, Chi- 
cago, 1894, pp. 168-171. 



VOL. VII. APRIL, 1897. No - 3- 



THE MONIST. 



HEGEL TO-DAY. 1 



PHILOSOPHICAL SYSTEMS have their ups and downs in the 
-*- world as well as books. And in no instance is this shown 
with greater clearness than by the place which Hegel occupies to- 
day in philosophy. After having first enravished the intellect of 
Germany and profoundly contributed to the moulding of her insti- 
tutions, he was subsequently so far dislodged from his commanding 
position as to be almost entirely forgotten by the present genera- 
tion. Undoubtedly his personality still persists in us as thoughts, 
ideals, and even as words, but his system as a whole now finds but 
few isolated votaries, and it is not uncommon to find persons who 
deem it an unfailing mark of scientific acumen to disparage Hegel 
and to treat him as a pretender in the realm of speculation. 

Utterly different is the situation in America and England. 
Here we see Hegel constantly gaining new friends and constantly 
extending his influence. More and more his system is becoming 
the rallying-point of all who stand in need of a comprehensive 
scheme for combating scepticism, dualism, and utilitarianism ; and 
to many he seems to offer a durable foundation not only for philos- 
ophy, but also for the practical conduct of life. 

The wide gulf which separates opinion of the philosopher at 
home and appreciation of him abroad affords tempting material for 

1 Translated from Professor Eucken's manuscript by Thomas J. McCormack. 



322 THE MONIST. 

discussion. But to treat it we must first sketch as tersely and lu- 
cidly as possible the leading characteristics of Hegel's philosophy 
as well as glance at the historical conditions out of which it grew. 

Two great intellectual currents are merged in Hegel's system. 
The first is the philosophy of the great German classical writers, 
developed in opposition to the rationalistic movement of the eigh- 
teenth century, rising in Herder and culminating in Goethe. This 
philosophy opposed with might and main the exclusive hegemony 
of the intellect, of ratiocination, of reflexion pure and simple ; it 
sought a more primordial source, a more promising outlook for life. 
It was not content to interpret the world solely from the point of 
view of man and to shape it with reference to his special ends, but 
the things of the world were invested with appropriate potentiali- 
ties of their own, and reality was conceived as embracing far more 
comprehensive and purer forms of life than those appurtenant to 
man individually. Nature and history thus took on a profundity 
and vitality with which they were never endued before, and to man 
himself, as the outcome of his widened relations, was opened up a 
far fuller life and far deeper vistas into the truth than had ever be- 
fore been held out to him. 

The second current of influences which moulded the intellect- 
uality of the thinkers of the nineteenth century proceeded from 
Kant. In the philosophy of Kant the thinking subject was sev- 
ered from all outward connexions, and installed in a position of 
absolute independence as regards the world. Reality was degraded 
to a realm of purely phenomenal appearances, while the sphere of 
objectivity, the sovereign domain of the thing-in-itself, seemed ut- 
terly and hopelessly beyond man's reach. At first blush, the ten- 
ets of the critical philosophy appear to be. in violent contrast with 
the views of the great poets. But closer examination discloses 
bonds of union. The poets were quite averse to the notion of a com- 
pleted world ; they expressly reserved to their imagination, to their 
artistic creative faculty the function of imparting new life and higher 
value to reality. On the other hand, by the " subject " which gives 
shape and being to the empirical world, Kant does not mean the 
individual as such, so much as the intellectual organisation of in- 



HEGEL TO-DAY. 323 

dividuals. His discovery the point he developed related to the 
inward constitution of the mind ; in his Practical Reason he even 
created, entirely from within, a realm of absolute reason. 

The combining of two movements having such affinities was 
therefore a perfectly natural step. The world wherein all contrari- 
eties were reconciled, and for which all men longed, was discovered 
in the human mind itself. Inwardness was made synonymous with 
universe. 

The effort thus briefly sketched constituted the pith and kernel 
of all speculative philosophy from Fichte to Hegel ; the individual 
bent of each thinker being expressed by the particular operation 
which he selected as the embodiment of the world and in which he 
sought the creative action of the mind. Fichte found its typification 
in ethics, which afterwards assumed with him a religious coloring ; 
Schelling found it in the various leading phases of his individual 
life, in his physico-philosophical, aesthetical, and religio-historical 
speculations ; Hegel, finally, discovers its embodiment in logic, 
which grows with him to proportions of omnipotence, dominating 
the whole cosmos and all history. With logic the movement first 
assumes its fullest universality, first actually begins to push the 
entering wedge into the entire broad fabric of reality. And here, 
therefore, the culminating point unquestionably is reached, and we 
have only to see the form which Hegel's philosophy assumes, as 
reared upon these foundations. 

ii. 

Hegel cannot make thought the essence and kernel of reality 
without lifting it far above immediate subjective reflexion. He does 
so by rejecting the opinings and longings of individuals as abso- 
lutely outside the pale of science ; the upshot being that we are 
obliged to divorce our personal crochets and predilections alto- 
gether from research and to consider solely the gist of the matter, 
as that is shaped by immanent necessity. If this be done, our 
thought is not something special and isolated, having an allotted 
place by the side of other sorts of thought, but it is thought itself, 
pure and simple, and bearing within itself the assurance of abso- 



324 THE MONIST. 

lute truth. Without such certainty, there can exist, according to 
Hegel, no impulse to philosophical work. In diametrical contrast 
to those who cannot restrict the barriers of human knowledge 
sharply enough, he says : ''The courage of truth, faith in the pow- 
ers of the mind is the first condition of philosophical research. 
"Man must honor himself and esteem himself worthy of the high- 
est there is. He cannot rate the greatness and potency of mind 
"too high. The locked heart of the universe has no power that 
"can withstand the courageous assaults of the intellect ; it must 
"open its doors to it, and lay its riches and depths before its eyes 
"and render them subservient to its pleasure." 

Further, the thought which in Hegel's conception produces 
reality, is not a quiescent, completed existence, but a living spring 
whose waters incessantly gush forth and are constantly spreading. 
It constitutes a process impelled by its own forces and governed by 
its own laws. One simple fundamental principle appears to be at the 
bottom of all its varied intricacy : the law of movement by contra- 
riety. From every thesis springs an antithesis, and the two together 
strive for synthesis. This latter forms a new starting-point and 
produces new antitheses and syntheses, and so the process goes on 
until finally all reality is caught in the movement. 

More closely considered, this liquefaction of reality signifies 
that all concepts involve contradictions which come to light in 
movement, which dissolve the original concept and afterwards en- 
gender new concepts. In Hegel's view "all things are self-contra- 
dictory," and there exists "in every actuality a combination of ex- 
istence and non-existence." By the agency of the negative the con- 
cept is enabled to pursue naturally its further development. The 
method becomes a genuine dialectic and appears in no respect a 
procedure forcibly impressed upon things by man, but as some- 
thing spontaneously proceeding from the things themselves, or as 
" the natural and spontaneous movement of the concept." As this 
movement is developed, and forges onward according to the rhyth- 
mic law of negative and positive, gradually everything foreign and 
extrinsic is subdued, all darkness is transformed into light, and all 
death into life. Ultimately the mind will know all things as its own 



HEGEL TO-DAY. 325 

and therewith reach the culminating acme of clear self-conscious- 
ness. "The true is the whole. But the whole is only that which 
is reaching perfection through its own spontaneous development." 

In this movement every stage is a transitional point only. 
Nothing that is individual can detach and establish itself without 
soon becoming a prey to lethargy and error. In the very moment 
at which a thing reaches its perfection, and so has fulfilled its pur- 
pose, begins its decline. Thus, life becomes an incessant strug- 
gling. But struggle is not absolute decay, outward disappearance 
is not complete extinction. Everything that sacrifices its individ- 
ual existence is preserved as an integral part, a "moment" of the 
higher stage. Individual natures succumb in the rushing life-flood 
of this prodigious process, only to find a new and imperishable ex- 
istence in the bosom of the whole. Thus the victory always re- 
mains with life, but the annihilation which victory incessantly de- 
mands is in its results appallingly tragical. 

The rigorous application of this method engenders a thor- 
oughly characteristic picture of reality. Not only is everything in- 
volved in flux, but all things are reciprocally concatenated, and 
everything individual and isolated acquires its just import and 
valuation only through its relations and connexions. Everywhere 
the condition of progress is conflict and struggle, never silent and 
peaceful growth. Life is here summoned to put forth its highest 
efforts and activities. Whatever seemed outward and partaking 
of the senses is now proved to be a mere phenomenon of mind for 
mind ; nevermore can material ends be made the goal of conduct. 
Intellectual effort is thrown wholly upon its own resources and 
lifted utterly beyond the interests of the individual man and imme- 
diate psychical life ; it is the action of a higher power, of purely in- 
tellectual and divine creating, that man experiences and feels in 
his individual life. But everything intellectual is concentrated in 
thought with its concepts. Therefore the problem is always to array 
the world's complexes under some broad, comprehending concept, 
to illuminate the whole domain with some one light-giving idea. 
These Ideas form the gist and motive power of history. It is true 
the work is distributed into many provinces, but they are all har- 



326 THE MONIST. 

moniously adjusted to one grand, comprehensive connexion, and 
appear as phases or stages of one truth. Thus all things are com- 
pressed and riveted together in a colossal intellectualisation of mat- 
ter, the whole broad scope of life is cast in one mould. But over 
all the rushing haste of movement soars an all-comprehensive con- 
templation, and so the multitudinous press of existence is trans- 
formed into the quiescent calmness of a life under the form of eter- 
nity sub specie ceternitatis. 

This process, in the first instance, is a matter of intellectual 
power, not of a moral frame of mind. But the moral element is far 
from lacking in it, being involved in absolute abandonment to the 
movement of the world-process, in the subjection of all subjective 
desire to the compulsion of objective truth. The Ideas make use 
of man even against his desire and knowledge ; he is constrained to 
serve them as their instrument, even where he is pursuing his own 
ends and is desirous of satisfying only his own passions. " Pas- 
sions mutually annihilate one another; reason alone is stirring, 
pursuing its own ends and asserting its own prerogatives." Making 
the Ideas one's personal will, that is morality ; and " the great men 
of history are they who make their individual ends the substantial 
incarnation of what is the will of the world-mind." 

The elaboration of this fundamental conception is not attended 
in all departments with equal facility. Nature remains a badly 
treated step-child, and also with the psychical life of the individual 
Hegel is able to accomplish little. His strength lies indisputably 
on the historical and sociological side, and there is nothing more 
characteristic of his thought than his close interweaving of the 
logical process with a comprehensive historical consideration of 
things. 

The distinctest unfoldment of the view and method mentioned 
is to be found in his theory of the state. As an aggregate fabric of 
reason, as "the realising of the moral idea," the state stands high 
above individuals ; it is not instituted to subserve their ends, but to 
unfold its own Idea as its highest self-constituted aim. The supe- 
riority of the whole to individuals does not prevent the holding of 
great individuals in high esteem. Hegel is thoroughly saturated 



HEGEL TO-DAY. 327 

with the view that all great achievements in history and society are 
the performance of a few gifted individuals, and not the work of 
the striving masses. Yet these individuals are not isolated phe- 
nomena, they are engendered by their time and simply give clear 
expression to the obscure but irresistible endeavors of the commu- 
nity at large. In public opinion there are all things, both false and 
true. To find what is true is the office of the great man. He who 
gives this to his time who fulfils what it wants and struggles to ex- 
press, is the great man of his time. 

At the same time Hegel stoutly combats the wide-spread ten- 
dency to apply purely subjective criticism to the state and to dwell 
exclusively on the evils which under human conditions inevitably 
cling to it. On the contrary, we should, he holds, transport our- 
selves into the innermost life and heart of the whole and seek from 
this point of view to comprehend its many isolated expressions. As 
philosophical insight generally leads to reconciliation with reality, 
so, too, it must apprehend and represent the state as something 
consistently rational. And here the problem of all problems is to 
apprehend the rational as real and the real as rational. For it is as 
much the purpose of philosophical thought to engender the world 
as to understand it. A philosophy is nothing more than "its age 
comprehended in thought/' and so it constitutes not the beginning 
but the conclusion of an epoch of civilisation. "As the thought of 
the world, it appears only after reality has completed and perfected 
its formational process. The owl of Minerva begins her flight only 
on the falling of the evening twilight." 

Hegel, accordingly, taught the world to think more highly of 
the state, as also to commit to it greater and more arduous duties. 
Further, he applied his philosophical ideas with pertinacious insist- 
ence to the minuter structure of political relations. Everywhere in 
human society he discovers movement by thesis and antithesis 
towards synthesis, everywhere the operation of contradiction. So 
here the culmination of substantial, practical morality, whose ex- 
pression the state is, is first reached through the stages of outward 
law and subjective morality. Thus Hegel understands punishment 
as the negation of the criminal's negation of the jural order. Thus 



328 THE MONIST. 

he recognises in love a resignation of individual existence and a 
regaining of new existence in the object of the love. So likewise, 
in violation of the general tendency of philosophy, he defended 
war as an indispensable instrument of the moral health of nations. 

But the single state is not in Hegel's conception the conclusion 
of things ; its ultimate mission is to be discharged into the ocean 
of the world's historical process. Some one people is always the 
chief vehicle of the growth of its time. Every civilised nation has 
its day. But it holds its vantage only for a brief time and then 
must deliver its torch to another. All the achievements of single 
nations and times serve but a single great purpose, the develop- 
ment of mind to the consciousness of its freedom. In all building up 
and tearing down but one thing is fulfilled, the self-discovery, the 
self-reversion of mind. To obtain this substantial freedom requires 
such great labor, for the reason that the mind is constantly recon- 
cealing its own concept, and so is being constantly estranged from 
itself. Thus, "evolution which in nature is a silent outgrowth, in 
mind is a severe and unceasing struggle against self." 

The manner in which the several epochs of civilisation com- 
pose chapters and stages of this universal historical movement 
has been set forth by Hegel with great power, but also with not a 
little violence, and has been brought down by him to the present 
time, in which he believes the victorious conclusion of the whole 
process is reached, the full self-consciousness of the mind attained. 
He closes with the joyous conviction : "The development of the 
principle of mind is the true theodicy, for it is the apprehension 
that the mind can free itself only in the element of mind, and that 
that which has come to pass and is coming to pass day in and day 
out, not only comes from God but is God's work itself." 

The acme of intellectual life is found by Hegel in the realm of 
absolute mind, which he divides into the provinces of art, religion, 
and philosophy. The content of one and all is the same truth : the 
mind's discovery and possessing of itself through movement. Art 
shows this truth in the form of sensuous intuition, religion in the 
form of representation, philosophy in the form of the pure concept. 
Everywhere the intellectual content is paramount. In art the first 






HEGEL TO-DAY. 329 

thing to be sought is the leading Idea, and the history of art thus 
becomes a reflex of the intellectual movement. In religion the ele- 
ment of obscure feeling is emphatically rejected ; the core is the 
thought ; only when the thought is true is the feeling, too, of the 
right sort. 

Here, accordingly, as there, the whole is peculiarly shaped by 
considerations of universal history, in which Hegel regards his own 
time as the acme and confluence of the grand world- movement as 
it progresses by contradiction. Hegel is enabled to give religion 
a characteristic content by the idea which penetrates his entire sys- 
tem, of the absorption of the individual in the intellectual process 
at large and of the new formation of man proceeding therefrom. 
He knows how to portray the life and operation of religion in power- 
ful language. " In this region of the mind flow the Lethean floods 
in which Psyche quenches her burning thirst, in which she drowns 
her every sorrow, shapes the rough asperities and darkened sides 
of time to a mirrored dream, and transfigures them to the bright 
radiance of eternity." And religion withal is not a power from be- 
yond, but a power here present with us and saturating all reality. 
"The reason of man, the consciousness of his being, is reason pure 
and simple ; the divine in man and the mind, in so far as it is the 
mind of God, is not a mind beyond the stars, beyond the world, 
but God is present, everywhere present, and present as mind in all 
minds." Thus he hopes and speaks with primordial force. But 
whether this religion of the absolute intellectual process is identical 
with the Christian religion as Hegel asserts it is, is quite another 
question. 

The highest summit is occupied by pure philosophy, the phi- 
losophy of knowledge as "mind knowing itself in the form of mind, 
or as comprehending-knowledge. " Pure philosophy is not some- 
thing distinct from its history, but the movement of its history 
itself, its movement comprehended in unity and illuminated by 
thought. The doctrines of single philosophers are not the views 
and notions of mere individuals, but stages of one grand, contin- 
uous intellectual process. Everything here has its assured place, 
everything arises out of the whole and flows back again into the 



330 THE MON1ST. 

whole. In the case of individual thinkers, their doctrines all conform 
to a single leading Idea, and only by such conformity can they at- 
tain their fullest value. The march of this movement is again sub- 
ject to the law of contradiction, of upward movement by thesis and 
antithesis ; here also struggle is the father of things. But the pres- 
ent forms the perfected and highest stage, considered from which all 
that has gone before is set in its proper light, and every isolated 
existence put in possession of its rights. The whole now appears 
"as a circle which returns into itself," which presupposes its be- 
ginning and reaches it only at the end." Thus only can the rest- 
less haste of its advance be transformed into the serenity and bliss 
of all-comprehensive contemplation. 

in. 

It needs but little study of Hegel's system to understand not 
only its powerful influence upon its time, but also its irresistible 
present attraction for sympathetic minds. The idea of a system un- 
limited in comprehension and shaping all departments of thought 
and life by the action of the same set of fundamental principles, 
operates in his philosophy with gigantic power ; while its excessive 
condensation is exhibited by scarcely any other system. The ker- 
nel of Hegel's philosophy is extremely simple, yet the outgrowth 
from it is nowise lacking in luxuriance and variety. With all the 
rigor to which its elaboration as an entirety is subjected, every de- 
partment yet seems to disclose its distinctive characteristics with 
perfect freedom and facility. A further striking feature is the idea 
of a universal reason, of a substantial truth absolutely independent 
of the opinions and volitions of the subject a truth which proceeds 
in its development by dint of its own intrinsic necessity and accord- 
ing to its own intrinsic laws, and which lifts the mortals who obey 
it far above the pettiness of every-day life. Extremely fruitful, 
too, is the idea of an incessant onward movement of life, of the 
fluidity of all individual entities, and of their being conditioned by 
the flow of the whole. But most titanic of all, perhaps, is the doc- 
trine, which no other thinker has advocated with the same vigor, that 
there can be no genuine progress without contradiction and strug- 



HEGEL TO-DAV. 331 

gle, that negation is not obstruction, but rather an indispensable 
means of deepening life and of enhancing its process, that without 
the perturbing, goading power of contradiction life would lose its 
sap and sinews. 1 Nor is this a mere accompaniment, a sickly pal- 
lor cast upon scientific work, but a power permeating it to its very 
foundations and bestowing upon it sharply defined characteristics. 
On the other hand, amid all its abstractness, Hegel's views are not 
infrequently conveyed by means of glowing portrayals and fervent 
appeals to the senses. And so we opine that no one who will im- 
partially and thoroughly surrender himself to the powerful influ- 
ences of Hegel's system as a whole can possibly gainsay to him the 
title of a great and genuine philosopher. Nowhere is the dominant 
bent of our century for history and sociology so distinctly placed at 
the summit of philosophical thought as in the philosophy of HegeL 
But this does not signify that we are obliged to accept Hegel 
as our chief guide in modern philosophical investigation or that we 
can or should accept as definitive his work. Rigorous, unhampered 
criticism is nowise incompatible with recognition of transcendent 
intellectual power. Such criticism, however, should not carp from 
without at the results of the system before it, but should place 
itself at its centre and there put to the test its tenability as a whole. 
In this undertaking the important question arises whether the real- 
ity present to the philosopher's mind is mastered by his thought, 
whether the intuition and the system of the man are combined and 
form an inward unity. To this question we must emphatically answer 
no. With Hegel intuition is not merely the elaborating and visu- 
alising, the practical applying of the system, but it is characterised 
by a different and far richer and more substantial fundamental con- 
ception. The system, rigorously conceived, is panlogism and pan- 
logism not only in the sense of its seeking a thoroughgoing, logical 
concatenation of things, but panlogism in the absolute sense of as- 
serting that thought alone, wholly by itself, and as the upshot of 
its own independent developmental movement, is the creator of all 

1 Compare on this point P. Carus on " The Problem of Good and Evil," in the 
July, 1896, number of The Monist, and the same writer's Primer of Philosophy, p 
100 et seq. 



332 THE MONIST. 

existence. Reality here is nothing but the intellectual process, 
nothing but thought proceeding from itself and reverting into itself. 
"All the choir of heaven and the furniture of earth" is transmuted 
into a prodigious web of logical relations. Such self-sufficient 
thought can tolerate nothing beside itself. It must annihilate, per- 
force, all immediate intuition and feeling, all psychical inwardness, 
all ethical valuation ; must destroy all the contents of life. Man is 
here converted outright into a mere tool of the logical process, and 
logically he should utterly dissolve therein, never again attaining 
living experience or command of the process through the agency of 
personality, and therefore never again being able to convert it into 
personal conviction and sentiment. Thus all human doing, all va- 
ried human movement in life would remain at bottom cold and 
empty ; the soul would be wrested from the bosom of reality. 

This tendency is unquestionably a marked feature of Hegel, 
but it is not all of Hegel. It is incessantly counteracted by the lux- 
uriant intuition of a personality that belonged to a great epoch and 
had made his own the total fruits of the world's historical experi- 
ence. Thus his convictions acquire enthusiasm from Christianity, 
which in his early theological studies at Tubingen had grown so fa- 
miliar to him ; so the riches of the whole golden age of German 
literature found embodiment in his philosophy of art ; and so his 
political views 'were fructified by the conception of the modern 
civilised state. His profound grasp of the forces and causes acting 
at the foundation of history and society is the very feature, in fact, 
that distinguishes Hegel. Wherever a living visual grasp of real- 
ity is associated with intellectual creation, there Hegel's achieve- 
ments have been great and have always borne fruit. On the other 
hand, even where such connexion has been established, we cannot 
deceive ourselves as to the fact that perfect inward unity does not 
exist. The contents of the system point beyond panlogism, yet 
without ever reaching, as contrasted therewith, their full develop- 
ment. 

Particularly striking, again, is the limitation of Hegel's thought 
at points where his work seeks no connexion with intuition, as is 
the case in many branches of logic and psychology, and more espe- 



HEGEL TO-DAY. 333 

cially so in the case of nature. For in these instances, where the 
method of construction by concepts is thrown entirely upon its own 
resources, Hegel often becomes formal, empty, and unendurable. 
His thoroughgoing contempt for experience is here mercilessly 
avenged. And if, despite its crushing failure in this regard, the 
presumption of the system, as being the end-all and be-all of re- 
search, is still doggedly persisted in, the violent opposition it has 
encountered is readily intelligible. It is now also luminously ap- 
parent how little the lever of pure cenceptual effort can accomplish 
when it has no hold on substance, but hovers in the empty air. 

The logical process proving powerless to comprehend the 
whole wealth of reality, and intuition and system having parted 
company, a second cardinal misgiving is produced by the attempt 
to convert all reality into a restlessly onward surging process, and 
at the same time to survey this process as a whole, to interpret it 
and make it part of our personal experience. That a contradiction 
inheres in this attempt is shown with special distinctness in Hegel's 
attitude towards history. Hegel demands here both a final conclu- 
sion and unceasing striving onwards. The immeasurability of the 
intellectual process is absolutely contradictory to cessation at a 
fixed point of time ; the movement must continue forever. An un- 
bounded future lies before us ; the present is merely a link in an 
endless chain. In the logical elaboration of this idea every single 
age would be a transitional point only, and all valuation relative. 
By the law of contradiction, all truths and estimates of the present 
must perforce be reversed into their opposites. But Hegel will not 
dream of admitting these inevitable conclusions ; if he accepted 
them, he would sacrifice the very essence of his system and give up 
all claim to speculative philosophy. The latter exactingly demands 
a survey of the movement as a whole, which would require with- 
drawal from the realm of becoming into that of a persisting exist- 
ence, a removal into a kingdom of eternal truth. Were Hegel to 
give up such an ultimate conclusion and contemplation from the 
point of view of the whole, his philosophy would sink to a mere 
passing glimpse of a fleeting epoch of time and offer only an in- 
stantaneous photograph of reality. 



334 THE MONIST. 

There are asserted here, accordingly, two diametrically oppo- 
site tendencies, which stand unreconciled by the side of each other. 
On the one hand, we have a stabilism, which regards the develop- 
mental course of the world as terminated, which is turned irrevoc- 
ably to the past and has not the slightest interest in the future ; on 
the other hand, we have a radicalism which promises a constant 
renewal of life and holds out the constant possibility of catastro- 
phes. In the mind of the master the conservative tendency pre 
vailed, which resulted in a serene contemplation of things. With the 
disciples the radical tendency got the upper hand, and so Hegel- 
ianism became the main bulwark of the revolutionary movement of 
our century, and as such it is preserved to-day in social democracy, 
particularly in Germany. 

IV. 

The foregoing contradictions explain fully the different attitudes 
which men take towards Hegel, and the alternate attraction and 
repulsion which he exerts upon different minds. In its mother 
country the destiny of the system was determined by the fact that 
the final shaping of Hegel's philosophy coincided with a great crisis 
in the nation's life, a crisis in which speculative and artistic pur- 
suits were abandoned and men's energies turned to the solution of 
scientific and political problems, in which the philosophy of ideal- 
ism was abandoned for that of realism. Previously to Hegel in 
Germany the interest of thinkers was dominated by questions relat- 
ing to spiritual and mental culture. The worth and greatness of a 
man was measured solely by his participation in intellectual work. 
Instead of this, from about 1830 on, man as he actually exists, man 
as he is in flesh and blood, becomes more and more the ruling in- 
terest of life. The burning problems and tasks now spring from 
man's relations to his environment and to society; the world of 
speculation pales away, and is forced more and more into the back- 
ground. Hegel's philosophy itself has been pressed into the service 
of this realistic movement, and at the same time forced, as above 
explained, into the relativistic and radical mould. Upon the whole, 
however, his philosophy has had to resign its primacy to the natu- 



HEGEL TO-DAY. 335 

ral sciences. A scientific epoch begins its career of victory. And 
when philosophy actually did again secure an independent standing, 
it was the doctrine of Schopenhauer that first took possession of 
thinking minds. 

And nothing is more characteristic of Schopenhauer's meth- 
ods than their diametrical contrast to Hegel's philosophy. In Hegel 
we have the unfolding of the intellectual process with its endless 
concatenations ; in Schopenhauer, abandonment to immediate feel- 
ing and intuition ; in the former, intellectual life, powerful creating 
and shaping ; in the latter, pure intuiting, luxuriant sentiment, and 
suffering ; there, a pressing of all experience into the service of the 
positive and rational ; here, an equally vigorous use of it in the ser- 
vice of the negative and irrational. Only very gradually was any- 
thing like an equilibrium of philosophical judgment restored in 
Germany, leading to Hegel's reinstatement in his rights and fame. 
But to readopt him outright was and is absolutely impossible, owing 
to the great inward revolutions and crises that have come upon the 
nation. 

Quite different is the situation in English-speaking countries. 
The particular relations and complications of the German environ- 
ment are lacking here. In these countries one can absorb and di- 
gest Hegel without misgivings. Under these circumstances it is 
quite intelligible that he should exert a powerful attraction. A newly 
aspiring intellectual life is strongly fascinated by the spirit which 
here operates, and is the more attracted to it by the fact that it 
finds in it a potent offset to many superficial and unproductive ten- 
dencies of the day. As contrasted with the distraction of modern 
life, one finds here unity and coherency, uniformity in all depart- 
ments ; as contrasted with the many varied sorts of dualism, one 
finds a robust monism ; as contrasted with the languor of mysticism 
and pessimism, a joyful faith in the potency of reason, in reality, and 
in our ability to force our way through to it. Whereas now reflex- 
ion, self-contemplation, and subjective vanity are so prevalent, in 
Hegel everything personal and relating to self vanishes before the 
seriousness of labor. Finally, the transforming of life into thought 
and work is valiantly opposed to all kinds of utilitarianism. It is 



336 THE MONIST. 

thus the yearning for a deepening of life, for a more substantial 
content of thought which drives people to Hegel. In this sense we 
may salute Hegelianism in America with sympathy, and wish for it 
a constantly growing diffusion. 

But it also appears here in its narrower conception, and with 
even more dogmatic assertion, and this excites criticism and oppo- 
sition. Hegel's system is not infrequently treated as definitively 
conclusive. All the intellectual and ethical needs of man are osten- 
sibly satisfied by it, and even to-day it is still supposed to dominate 
the movement of thought. All that is great and good in history is 
believed to be scientifically comprehended and condensed in Hegel. 
It is also asserted to be in full harmony with Christianity, as was 
recently asserted in an article in The Monist. If we accept the anal- 
ysis given in the present article, we must not only look upon this 
as incorrect, but must say that it betrays an inaccurate conception 
of the great thinker. Hegel is in the first instance the philosopher 
of the absolute intellectual process. Even that in his philosophy 
which is not absorbed in this intellectual process receives from it a 
characteristic coloring. Contradiction must arise where men see 
more in reality than the incessant movement of unhampered 
thought, which derives its motive powers wholly from its own re- 
sources. What was said regarding the cleft between intuition and 
system and regarding the contradiction in the concept of the abso- 
lute process, applies to all the regenerated forms of Hegelianism. 
The multitudinous experiences which humanity has gained in sci- 
ence and life since the heyday of Hegel's philosophy, only render 
it more impossible for modern thought to readopt it in a modified 
form. Hegel's system is pure philosophical spiritualism. It can 
never allow independence or significance to sensuous existence; 
Hegel holds that "Nature is the theatre of infinite mind: nature 
exists only for man." 

With such convictions his glance is absolutely restricted to 
terrestrial nature. The remaining celestial bodies seem hardly to 
exist for him. Here on earth reality seems to live out its existen- 
tial role. All this is quite in harmony with an age which was so 
absolutely taken up with the life and creations of man that nature 



HEGEL TO-DAY. 337 

filled merely the part of a background to the play. But how can 
such a conception be adhered to to-day, when nature has acquired 
so infinitely much more significance for us and life has been utterly 
transformed by our having revealed her laws and exploited her 
powers? Further, filled with his artistic conception of nature, 
Hegel looks upon the formation of natural life as a quiet, peace- 
ful development ; he makes organic creatures evolve from the 
bosom of nature as the bud from the blossom. Does not our hav- 
ing learned the import of the struggle for existence necessarily 
change the whole face of our world-conception? Finally, we stand 
in the midst of tremendous social complications, and daily have 
palpable proof of the prodigious potency of the outward conditions 
of life. With Hegel, on the contrary, the life and development of 
human beings is entirely dominated by spiritual, and pre-eminently 
by intellectual, factors. 

And still another scruple is raised by panlogism of the Hegel- 
ian stripe, with its transforming of all reality into the movement of 
absolute thought. In the first place, to-day we have too modest 
an opinion of human powers to identify our thought thus quickly 
and lightly with absolute thought. We know that even under the 
most favorable circumstances and only by dint of hard labor and 
slow methods we can lift ourselves to the point where our thought 
is dominated by the unerring compulsion of truth. And again it is 
impossible for us to set ourselves so flippantly and rashly above 
the authority of experience as Hegel did, or, rather, fancied he did. 
For in truth Hegel himself incessantly drew from experience, and 
his system took on living form only through the assistance offered 
by this factor. How empty and hollow his performances are when 
his supposed absolute thought is drawing wholly from its own re- 
sources may be abundantly seen. 

But the chief objection to Hegel springs from the circumstance 
that mind or spirit is more than intellect, and spiritual life broader 
than thought. In identifying spirituality with bare intellectuality, 
its full scope is not asserted. Inwardness, pure and simple, of psy- 
chic life, is suppressed. The intellectual powers violently displace 
the moral elements. The ideal in humanity is, with Hegel, not 



338 THE MONIST. 

free personality, but the spiritual, and, notably, the intellectually 
productive man ; not the moral character in the sense of Kant, but 
the genius in the sense of an artistic, romantic world-view. We see 
that Hegel's system is not without its ethical element, yet this ele- 
ment is a mere appendage of intellectual activity, not the germ of 
a new and higher life. So, too, Hegel's religious teachings, when 
closely examined, are quite different from the conception of religion 
advanced by the great creeds of the world, and particularly by Chris- 
tianity. The gist of religion is with him nothing but the absorp- 
tion of the individual in the universal intellectual process. How 
such a conception can be identified with moral regeneration of the 
Christian stripe, with purification of the heart, is unintelligible to 
us. With Hegel, religion is at bottom but one, and that a lower, 
species of philosophy (the grasping of truth in the form of repre- 
sentation), and it is hard for it to assert by the side of philosophy 
anything like independence. Again, Hegel's religion is fundamen- 
tally different from the Christian as well as the Buddhistic, by the 
fact that it disposes of the problem of suffering in life in a manner 
altogether different from those religions. For just as his system of 
the absolute intellectual process, by positing a formal reason, a con- 
formity to law, and a progressive movement in the All, totally con- 
verts reality into reason, so also it cherishes the belief that it has 
cleared up by the world's movement itself everything that is dark, 
and to have completely overcome all suffering. On the other hand, 
the bent of the system is here thoroughly optimistic and rational- 
istic. Participation in the civilising process appears to lift man 
above all cares and pains and appears to give to his life perfect and 
full contentment. But what necessity exists then to take refuge in 
religion at all, or to demand the opening up of a new world such as 
humanity heretofore has always expected of religion? 

In short, in order to understand Hegel accurately in all his 
characteristic phases, one must also formulate his limitations, one 
must recognise the impossibility of going back unqualifiedly to his 
standpoint. In wishing, therefore, for a constantly increasing dif- 
fusion of the study of Hegel in America, we hope at the same time 
that the students of his philosophy will preserve their full inde- 



HEGEL TO-DAY. 339 

pendence when under the master's sway, and not surrender them- 
selves to blind subjection. 

To adopt Hegel's system again to-day without qualifications, 
after so many tremendous revolutions in life, would be a thoroughly 
artificial restoration. And all such restorations, seeing that they 
subordinate their own time to one which is alien to it, are wont to 
be extremely unfruitful. Nor do they harmonise well with the deep- 
rooted conviction of thought, according to which all reality is an 
unceasing, onward-streaming of life. May the students of to-day, 
therefore, separate in Hegel the transitory from the intransitory, 
may they work out clearly and courageously those elements in his 
thought which are independent of his time and are calculated to 
further to-day the aspirations of high creative endeavor, and may 
they free themselves by searching criticism from everthing that was 
either at the beginning insufficient or has been proved by subse- 
quent developments to be insufficient. It is the mark of all really 
great achievements and great men to be able to stand such winnow- 
ing, and, when everything has been rejected, to remain great still. 
And we believe that Hegel, too, can stand this test. 

RUDOLPH EUCKEN. 
JENA. 






THE GENESIS OF SOCIAL u INTERESTS." 

AS AN INTRODUCTION to what is to follow, I may be allowed 
-^V to quote a passage from an earlier work 1 in which is given the 
theory of the rise of the notion of self, on which the point of the 
present slight paper rests. 

"One of the most remarkable tendencies of the very young child in its responses 
to its environment is the tendency to recognise differences of personality. It responds 
to what I have called 'suggestions of personality.'. . . I think this distinction be- 
tween persons and things, between agencies and objects, is the child's very first 
step toward a sense of the qualities which distinguish persons. The sense of un- 
certainty or lack of confidence grows stronger and stronger in its dealings with per- 
sons an uncertainty contingent upon the moods, emotions, nuances of expression, 
and shades of treatment, of the persons around it. A person stands for a group of 
experiences quite unstable in its prophetic as it is in its historical meaning. This 
we may, for brevity of expression, assuming it to be first in order of development, 
call the ' projective stage' in the growth of the personal consciousness, which is so 
important an element in social emotion. 

" Further observation of children shows that the instrument of transition from 
such a ' projective ' to a subjective sense of personality is the child's active bodily 
self, and the method of it is the principle of imitation. As a matter of fact, accom- 
modation by actual muscular imitation does not arise in most children until about 
the seventh month, so utterly organic is the child before this, and so great is the 
impetus of its inherited instincts and tendencies. But when the organism is ripe, 
by reason of cerebral development, for the enlargement of its active range by new 
accommodations, then he begins to be dissatisfied with 'projects,' with contempla- 
tion, and so starts on his career of imitation. And of course he imitates persons. 
. . But it is only when a new kind of experience arises which we call effort a set 
opposition to strain, stress, resistance, pain, an experience which arises, I think 

1 Mental Development in the Child and the Race: Methods and Processes (Mac- 
millan, 2d ed., 1895), pp. 335 ff. 




THE GENESIS OF SOCIAL " INTERESTS. " 34 I 

first as imitative effort that there comes that great line of cleavage in his experi- 
ence which indicates the rise of volition, and which separates off the series now first 
really subjective. . . . The subject sense, then, is an actuating sense. What has 
formerly been 'projective' now becomes 'subjective.' The associates of other per- 
sonal bodies, the attributes which made them different from things, are now at- 
tached to his own body with the further peculiarity of actuation. This we may call 
the subjective stage in the growth of the self-notion. . . . Again, it is easy to see 
what now happens. The child's subject sense goes out by a kind of return dialec- 
tic, which is really simply a second case of assimilation, to illuminate these other 
persons. The project of the earlier period is now lighted up, claimed, clothed on 
with the raiment of self-hood, by analogy with the subjective. The projective be- 
comes ejective ; that is, other people's bodies, says the child to himself, have ex- 
periences in them such as mine has. They are also nie's: let them be assimilated 
to my me copy. This is the third stage ; the ejective, or ' social ' self, is born. 

' ' The ego and the alter are thus born together. Both are crude and unreflec- 
tive, largely organic, an aggregate of sensations, prime among which are efforts 
pushes, strains, physical pleasures and pains. And the two get purified and clari- 
fied together by this twofold reaction between project and subject, and between 
subject and eject. My sense of myself grows by imitation of you, and my sense of 
yourself grows in terms of my sense of myself. Both ego and alter are thus essen- 
tially social ; each is a socius, and each is an imitative creation. So for a long time 
the child's sense of self includes too much. The circumference of the notion is too 
wide. It includes the infant's mother, and little brother, and nurse, in a literal 
sense ; for they are what he thinks of and aims to act like by imitating, when he 
thinks of himself. To be separated from his mother is to lose a part of himself, as 
much so as to be separated from a hand or foot. And he is dependent for his 
growth directly upon these suggestions which come in for imitation from his per- 
sonal milieu." 

The outcome serves to afford a point of departure for the view 
which we may entertain of the person as he appears to himself in 
society. If it be true, as all the evidence goes to show, that what 
the person thinks of himself is a pole or terminus at one end of an 
opposition in the sense of personality generally, and that the other 
pole or terminus is the thought he has of the other person, the alter, 
then it is impossible to take his thought of himself at any time and 
say that in thinking of himself he is not essentially thinking of the 
alter also. 1 What he calls himself now is in large measure an in- 

*In isolating the " thought elements" in the self, I do not, of course, deny the 
organic sensation and feeling elements ; but, from the social point of view, the lat- 
ter are unavailing. 



342 THE MONIST. 

corporation of elements that at an earlier period of his thought of 
personality, he called some one else. The acts now possible to 
himself, and so used by him to describe himself in thought to him- 
self, were formerly only possible to the other ; but by imitating that 
other he has brought them over to the opposite pole, and found 
them applicable with a richer meaning, and a modified value, as 
true predicates of himself also. If he thinks of himself in any par- 
ticular past time, he can single out what was then he, as opposed 
to what has since become he ; and the residue, the part of him that 
has since become he, that was then only thought of if it was 
thought of as an attribute of personality at all as attaching to some 
one whom he was acquainted with. For example, last year I thought 
of my friend W. as a man who had great skill on the bicycle and 
who wrote readily on the typewriter ; my sense of his personality 
included these accomplishments, in what I have called a "projec- 
tive " way. My sense of myself did not have these elements, ex- 
cept as my thought of my normal capacity to acquire delicate move- 
ments was comprehensive. But now, this year, I have learned to 
do both these things. I have taken the elements of W's person- 
ality formerly recognised, and by imitative learning, brought them 
over to myself. I now think of myself as one who rides a " wheel " 
and writes on a "machine." But I am able to think of myself 
thus only as my thought includes, in a way now called "subjec- 
tive," the personal accomplishments of W., and with him of the 
more or less generalised alter which in this illustration we have 
taken him to stand for. So the truth we now learn is this : that 
each and all of the particular marks which I now call mine, when I 
think of myself, has had just this origin ; I have first found it in my 
social environment, and by reason of my social and imitative dis- 
position, have transferred it to myself by trying to act as if it were 
true of me, and so coming to find out that it is true of me. And 
further, all the things I hope to learn, to acquire, to become, all 
if I think of them in a way to have any clear thought of my possible 
future are now, before I acquire them, simply elements of my 
thought of others, of the social alter, or of what considered gen- 
erally we may call the "socius." 



343 

But we should also note that what has been said of the one 
pole of this dialectical relation, the pole of self, is equally true of 
the other also the pole represented by the other person, the alter. 
What do I have in mind when I think of him as a person? Evi- 
dently I must construe him, a person, in terms of what I think of 
myself, the only person whom I know in the intimate way we call 
" subjective." I cannot say that my thought of my friend W. is 
exhausted by the movements of wheel-riding or typewriting ; nor 
of any collection of such acts, considered for themselves. Back of 
it all there is the attribution of the very fact of subjectivity which 
I have myself. And the subjectivity of him it is just like that of 
me, to the degree to which I have any picture of it at all. I con- 
stantly enrich the actions which were at first his alone, and then 
became mine by imitation of him, with the meaning, the rich sub- 
jective value, the interpretation in terms of private ownership, 
which my appropriation of them in the first instance from him, has 
enabled me to make. So my thought of any other man or all 
other men is, to the richest degree, that which I understand of 
myself, together with the uncertainties of interpretation which my 
further knowledge of his acts enables me to conjecture. I think 
him rational, emotional, volitional, as I am ; and the details of his 
more special characteristics, as far as I understand them at all, I 
weave out of possible actions of my own, when circumstances call 
me out in similar ways. But there is always the sense that there is 
more to understand about him ; for as we have seen, he constantly, 
by the diversities between us which I do not yet comprehend, sets 
me new actions to imitate for my own growth. 

So the dialectic may be read thus : my thought of self is in the 
main, as to its character as a personal self, filled up with my thought 
of others, distributed variously as individuals ; and my thought of 
others, as persons, is mainly filled up with myself. In other words, 
but for certain minor distinctions in the filling, and for certain com- 
pelling distinctions between that which is immediate and that which 
is objective, the self and the alter are to our thought one and the 
same thing. 



344 THE MONIST. 

I do not care in this connexion to track out the distinction be- 
tween the subjective or immediate, and the objective; nor to ask 
what it is that sets the bounds in fact to the person. What con- 
cerns us is independent of these inquiries, having to do with the 
question : What is in consciousness when one thinks of himself or 
of another person? This, it is evident, is a sufficient introduction 
to a number of questions of high social import ; for we may ask : 
When a man asserts himself, what is it that he really asserts? When 
he sympathises with another, what exactly is that "other"? And 
how do all the emotions, and desires, and mental movements of 
whatever kind which pass through his consciousness involve others 
who are in social connexion with him ? I claim, indeed, that it is 
just this kind of inquiries that most concern the social theorist just 
now, and with him the political thinker ; and the vagueness and 
cross-firing which prevail in some of the discussions of these men 
are due in great part to inadequate understanding of the psycho- 
logical concepts which they use. 

To get such inquiries down to a psychological basis, the first 
requisite is to be reached in the concept of the person. Not the 
person as we look at him in action, alone, or chiefly ; but the per- 
son as he thinks of himself. We constantly presume to tell him 
what his chief end is, what as an individual he most desires, what 
his selfish nature urges him to, and what self-sacrifices he is willing 
to make in this circumstance or that. We endeavor to reach a 
theory of "value" based on a calculus of the desire of one individual 
to gratify his individual wants, multiplied into the number of such 
individuals. Or we take a group of individuals together as we find 
them in society and ask how it is that these individuals could have 
come together. All this without so much as consulting the single 
person psychologically as to the view he has of his own social life, 
his opportunities, and his obligations ! The average individual would 
be ' ' scared " within an inch of his life if he were for a moment obliged 
to put up with the kind of existence which such theorists assume 
him to live ; and he would be paralysed into permanent inertia if 
he had to effect by his conscious efforts what they teach us he works 
out. Even the later psychological sociologists, as notably M. Tarde, 



THE GENESIS OF SOCIAL " INTERESTS. " 345 

treat "beliefs" and "desires" as ultimate self-existent things apart 
from the content of thought to which they are functionally attached. 

To bring our development of the sense of personality, there- 
fore, into view of these questions, let us attack one of the main 
points in the theory of society which recent discussion has tended 
to formulate. This point is that which concerns the "interests" of 
the individual. What are the interests of the individual, and how 
do they stand related to the interests of the community, state, social 
group, in which the individual lives? 

Popularly, a man's interests are those aspects of possible for- 
tune which are best for him. What is thus best for him is in the 
main what he wants ; but the two classes are not always identical. 
Yet for the sake of making our point more secure in the sequel, 
suppose we begin by defining a man's interest as that which he 
wants, and is willing to put forth some endeavor to obtain. Then 
let us see how this tends to involve the man's self, and the selves 
of those who are associated with him. 

If the analysis given above be true, then what a man thinks of 
as himself, is in large measure identical with what he thinks of as 
another, or the others in general. So the projection of the thought 
of "person," which, when looked at subjectively, he calls "my self," 
into an "other," this qualifies that other to be clothed on with all 
the further predicates found to attach to the self. The so-called 
love of self, it is evident, is such a predicate ; it is a description of 
the attitude which the man takes to himself, a kind of reaction of 
part of his nature upon another part. When he is proud, it is be- 
cause the qualities by which he represents himself to himself are 
such that they arouse his approbation. When he thinks, therefore, 
of the other in terms of the same predicates, he has to react to a 
degree with the same sense of approval. 

When, likewise, I go farther in thought and say that, being 
such and such a person, it is my interest to have such or such a 
fate, I must perforce that is, by the very same mental movement 
which gives the outcome in my own case attribute to him the same 
deserts and the same fate. Viewed psychologically, we should say 
that the predicate is a function of the content which we call self, 



346 THE MONIST. 

and that, so far as the content is the same, the predicate must be 
the same. But this sense of equal interest, desert, because of iden- 
tical position in the evolution of selves, what is this but the sense 
of justice in the abstract, and in the concrete, the feeling of sym- 
pathy with the other? The very concept of interests, when one 
considers it with reference to himself, necessarily involves others, 
therefore, on very much the same footing as himself. His interests, 
the things he wants in life, are the things which, by the very same 
thought, he allows others, also, the right to want ; and if he insists 
upon the gratification of his own wants at the expense of the legit- 
imate wants of the "other," then he in so far does violence to his 
sympathies and to his sense of justice. And this in turn must im- 
pair his satisfaction. For the very gratification of himself thus se- 
cured must, if it be accompanied with any reflexion at all, involve 
the sense of the other's gratification also ; and since this conflicts 
with the fact, a degree of discomfort must arise in mind varying 
with the development which the self has attained in the dialectical 
process which has been described. 

Or suppose we look at the case a little differently. Let us say 
that the sense of self always involves the sense of the other. And 
this sense of the other is but that of another "self," where the word 
self is equivalent to myself, and the meaning of the word "other" 
is the only thing that prevents it from being myself. Now my point 
is that whatever I fancy, hope, fear, desire for self in general, with 
no qualification as to which self it is, remains the same whether 
afterwards I do qualify it by the word "my" or by the word 
"other." Psychologically there is a great mass of motor attitudes 
and reactive expressions which become conscious as emotion and 
desire, common to the self-thought everywhere. 

This is true just in so far as there is a certain typical other self 
whose relation to me has been that of social give and take by which 
the whole development of a sense of self of any kind has been made 
possible. And we find certain distinctions at different stages of the 
development which serve to throw the general idea of the social re- 
lationship into clearer light. 

Let us look at the life of the child with especial view to his at- 



THE GENESIS OF SOCIAL "INTERESTS." 347 

titudes to those around him ; taking the most common case, that of 
a child in a family of children. We find that such a child shows, 
in the very first stages of his sense of himself as a being of rights, 
duties, etc., a very organic nature. He is occupied mainly with 
the business of learning about himself, other people, and nature. 
He imitates everything, being a veritable copying-machine. He 
spends the time not given to imitating others very largely in prac- 
tising what he has picked up by his imitations, and in the exploit- 
ing of these accomplishments. His two dominating characteristics 
are a certain slavishness, on the one hand, in following all exam- 
ples set around him ; and then, on the other hand, a certain bold 
aggressiveness, inventiveness, a showing-off, in the use he makes 
of the things he learns. 

But it does not take very extended observation to convince us 
that this difference in his attitudes is not a contradiction ; that the 
attitudes themselves really terminate upon different thoughts of self. 
The child imitates his elders, not from choice, but from his need of 
adaptation to the environment ; for it is his elders who know more 
than he does, and who act in more complex ways. But he is sel- 
dom aggressive toward his elders that is, toward those who have 
the character of command, direction, and authority over him. His 
aggressions are directed mainly toward his brothers and sisters ; 
and even as toward them, he shows very striking discriminative se- 
lection of those upon whom it is safe to aggress. In short, it is 
plain that the difference in attitude really indicates differences in his 
thought corresponding to differences in the elements of the child's 
social environment. We may suppose the persons about him di- 
vided roughly into two classes : those he learns from, and those he 
practises on ; and then we see that his actions are accounted for as 
adaptations in his personal development. 

The facts covered by this distinction probably the first gen- 
eral social distinction in the child's career are extremely interest- 
ing. The stern father of the family is at the extreme end of the 
class he reveres with a shading of fear ; the little brother and sister 
stand at the other extreme ; they are the fitting instruments of his 
aggression, the practise of his strength, the assertion of his agency 



348 THE MONIST. 

and importance. The mother usually, it seems, stands midway, 
serving to unite the two aspects of persons in the youngster's mind. 
And it is pretty clear, when the case is closely studied, that the 
child has, as it were, two thoughts of his mother two mothers, ac- 
cording as she on occasion falls into one or the other of these 
classes. He learns when, in what circumstances, she will suffer 
him to assert himself, and when she will require him to be docile 
and teachable. And although she is for the most part a teacher 
and example, yet on occasion he takes liberties with the teacher. 

Now what does this mean, this sorting out, so to speak, of the 
persons of the family? It means a great deal when looked at in 
the light of the "dialectical movement" in the development of 
personality. And I may state my interpretation of it at the outset. 

The child's sense of himself is, as we have seen, one pole of a 
relation ; and which pole it is to be, depends on the particular re- 
lation which the other pole, over which the child has no control, 
calls on it to be. If the other person involved presents uncertain, 
ominous, dominating, instructive, features, or novel imitative fea- 
tures, then the self is "subject" over against what is " projective." 
He recognises new elements of personal suggestion not yet accom- 
modated to. His consciousness is in the learning attitude ; he imi- 
tates, he serves, he trembles, he is a slave. But on the other hand, 
there are persons to whom his attitude has a right to be different. 
In the case of these the dialectic has gone farther. He has mas- 
tered all their features, he can do himself what they do, he antici- 
pates no new developments in his intercourse with them ; so he 
"ejects" them, as the psychological expression is ; for an "eject" 
is a person whose consciousness has only those elements in it which 
the individual who thinks of that consciousness is able, out of his 
own store of experience, to read into it. It is ejective to him, for 
he makes it what he will, in a sense. Now this is what the broth- 
ers and sisters, notably the younger ones, are to our youthful hero. 
They are his "ejects"; he knows them by heart, they have no 
thoughts, they do no deeds, that he could not have read into them 
by anticipation. So he despises them, practises his superior activ- 
ities on them, tramples them under foot. 



THE GENESIS OF SOCIAL "INTERESTS." 349 

Now at this earliest stage in his unconscious classification of 
the elements of his personal world, it is clear that any attempt to 
describe the child's interests the things which he wants, as we 
have' agreed to define "interests" as selfish, generous, or as fall- 
ing in any category of developed social significance, is quite beside 
the mark. If we say that to be selfish is to try to get all the per- 
sonal gratification possible, we find that he does this only part of 
the time ; and even on these occasions, not because he has any 
conscious preference for that style of conduct, but merely because 
his consciousness is then filled with the particular forms of per- 
sonal relationship the presence of his little sister, etc. which 
normally issue in the more habitual actions which are aggressive, 
in our advanced social terminology. His action is only the motor 
side of a certain collection of elements. He acts that way, then, 
simply because it is natural for him to practise the functions which 
he has found useful. We see that it is natural ; and on the basis 
of its naturalness, call him selfish by nature. 

But that this is arguing beyond our facts really arguing on 
the strength of the psychological ignorance of our hearers, and our 
own is clear when we turn the child about and bring him into the 
presence of the other class of persons to whom we have seen him 
taking up a special attitude. We have but to observe him in the 
presence of his father (generally), or any one else whom he habit- 
ually imitates and learns the lessons of life from, to find out that 
he is just as pre-eminently social, docile, accommodating, centred- 
outwardly, so to speak, as before we considered him unsocial, ag- 
gressive, and self-centred. If we saw him only in these latter cir-. 
cumstances, we would say possibly that he was by nature altruistic, 
most responsive to generous suggestion, teachable in the extreme, 
But here the limitation is the same as in the former case. He is 
not altruistic in any high social sense, nor consciously yielding to 
suggestions of response which require the repression of his selfish- 
ness. As a matter of fact, he is simply acting himself out ; and in 
just the same natural way as on the occasion of his apparent selfish- 
ness. But it is now a different self which is acting itself out. The 
self is now at the receptive pole. It is made up of elements which 



350 THE MONIST. 

are inadequate to a translation of the alter at the other pole of the 
social relation now established. The child's sense of self is not 
now of a relatively completed self in relation to the alter before 
him ; it was that in the earlier case, and the aggression which he 
was then guilty of showed as much. Now he feels his lack of ade- 
quate means of response to the personality before him. He can 
not anticipate what the father will do next, how long approbation 
will smile upon him, what the reasons are for the changes in the 
alter-personality. So it is but to state a psychological truism to say 
that his conduct will be different in this case. Yet from the fact 
that the self of this social state is also in a measure a regular pole 
of the dialectic of personal growth, it will tempt the observer to 
classify the whole child, on the strength of this one attitude, in 
some one category of social and political description. 

I do not see, in short, how the nature of this child can be ex- 
pressed in any but social terms ; nor how, on the other hand, social 
terms can get any content of value but from the understanding of 
the developing individual. This is a circle of definition, of course ; 
and that is just my point. On the one hand, we can get no doctrine 
of society but by getting the psychology of the "socius" with all 
his natural history ; and on the other hand, we can get no true view 
of the socius at any time without describing the social conditions 
under which he normally lives, with the history of their action and 
reaction upon him. Or to put the outcome in the terms of the re- 
striction which we have imposed upon ourselves, the only way to 
get a solid basis for social doctrine based upon human want or de- 
sire, is to work out first a descriptive and genetic psychology of 
desire in its social aspects ; and on the other hand, the only way to 
get an adequate psychological view of the rise and development of 
desire in its social aspects, is by a patient tracing of the conditions 
of social environment which the child and the race have lived in 
and have grown up to reflect. 

But the observation of the child shows us that we may carry 
our discrimination of his personal attitudes farther along the same 
lines. We have found him classifying his companions and associ- 
ates by the shadings of conduct which his spontaneous adaptations 



THE GENESIS OF SOCIAL "INTERESTS." 351 

of himself show ; yielding to some and studying them mainly by 
imitation, abusing others and asserting himself against them ag- 
gressively. This distinction gets a wider development as his ex- 
perience goes on accumulating. As was hinted in the case of his 
attitude to his mother, that one person comes to have for him the 
force of several, or of both of the two great classes of persons. 
Sometimes he tyrannises over his mother and finds her helpless ; at 
other times he finds her far from submitting to tyranny, and then 
he takes the role of learner and obedient boy. Now the further 
advance which he makes in this general sense of the social situation 
as a whole, is in the line of carrying this same adaptability of atti- 
tude into his relation to each of the persons whom he knows. Just 
as he himself is sometimes one person and again another, sometimes 
the learner, the altruist, the unselfish pupil, and then again the 
egoist, the selfish aggressor ; so he continues the dialectical process 
by making this also "ejective" to him. He reads the same possi- 
bility of personal variation back into the alter also. He comes to 
say to himself in effect : he, my father, has his moods just as I have. 
He, no less than I, cannot be adequately considered all-suffering or 
all-conquering. Sometimes he also is at one pole of the self-dialec- 
tic, sometimes at the other. And so is my mother, and my brother 
and sister, as they grow older, indeed, so are all men. 

So it then becomes his business not to classify persons, but to 
classify actions. He sees that any person may, with some few ex- 
ceptions, act in either way : any person may be his teacher or his 
slave, on occasion. So his next step in social adaptation is his 
adaptation to occasions, the group of social conditions in which 
one or the other class of actions may be anticipated from people 
generally. And he makes great rough classes in which to put his 
"ejects" his read-out personalities about him according to his 
expectations of treatment from them. He learns the signs of wrath, 
of good humor, of sorrow, of joy, hope, love, jealousy, giving them 
the added interpretation all the time which his own imitation of 
them enables him to make by realising what they mean in his own 
experience. And so he gets himself equipped with that extraordi- 
nary facility of transition from one attitude to another in his re- 



352 THE MON1ST. 

sponses to those about him, which all who are familiar with chil- 
dren will have remarked. 

Now all these changes have meaning only as we realise the fact 
of the social dialectic, which is the same through it all. There are 
changes of attitude simply and only because, as the psychologist 
would express it, there are changes in the content of his sense of 
self. In more popular terms : he changes his attitude in each case 
because the thing called another, the alter, changes. His father 
is his object ; and the object is the "father," as the child thinks him, 
on this occasion and under these circumstances, right out of his own 
consciousness. The father-thought is a part of the child's present 
social situation ; and this situation in the child's mind issues in the 
attitude which is appropriate to it. If it be the father in wrath, the 
situation produces such a father out of the child's available social 
thought-material ; and the presence of the combination in the 
child's mind itself issues in the docile, fearful attitude. But if it 
then turn into the jovial father, the child does not then reverse his 
attitude of himself. No, the father-thought is now a different father- 
thought, and of itself issues in the child's attitude of playful aggres- 
sion, rebellion, or disobedience. The growing child is able to think 
of self in varying terms as varying social situations impress them- 
selves upon him ; so these varying thoughts of self, when made 
real in the persons of others, call out, by the regular process of 
motor discharge, each its own appropriate attitude. 

But see in this more subtle give and take of elements, for the 
building up of the social sense, how inextricably interwoven the ego 
and the alter really are ! The development of the child's person- 
ality could not go on at all without the constant modification of his 
sense of himself by suggestions from others. So he himself, at 
every stage, is really in part someone else, even in his own thought 
of himself. And then the attempt to get the alter stript from ele- 
ments contributed directly from his present thought of himself is 
equally futile. He thinks of the other, the alter, as his socius, just 
as he thinks of himself as the other's socius : and the only thing that 
remains more or less stable, in the midst of the whole growth, is 



THE GENESIS OF SOCIAL "INTERESTS." 353 

the fact that there is a growing sense of self which includes both 
terms, the ego and the alter. 

In short, the real self is the social self, the socius. 

And if we think it worth while again to raise the question as to 
what such a self pursues when, as we say, he identifies his inter- 
ests with his wants, the answer is just as before. The growing 
subtlety of the dialectical process has not changed the values which 
the elements represent to the child. What he wants in each cir- 
cumstance is expressed by his attitude in that circumstance ; and 
it changes with the circumstance. He is now a creature of burning 
self-assertion, eager to kill and destroy in all God's holy mountain ; 
and presto ! change, he is now the lion lying down beside the lamb. 
His wants are not at all consistent. They are in every case the 
outcome of the social situation ; and it is absurd to endeavor to 
express the entire body of his wants as a fixed quantity under such 
a term of description as "selfish," " generous," or other, which 
has reference to one of the various situations only. 

So far, therefore, in our search for a definition of the "inter- 
ests " of the individual, in relation to his social environment, we 
find a certain outcome. His wants are a function of the social sit- 
uation as a whole. The social influences which are working in upon 
him are potent to modify his wants, no less than are the innate 
tendencies of his personal nature to issue in such wants. The char- 
acter which he shows actively ,at any time is due to these two fac- 
tors in union. One of them is no more himself than the other. He 
is the outcome of "habit" and "suggestion," as psychology would 
say in its desire to express everything by single words. Social sug- 
gestion is the sum of the social influences which he takes in and 
incorporates in himself when he is in the receptive, imitative, atti- 
tude to the alter ; habit is the body of formed material, already cast 
in the mold of a self, which he brings up for self-assertion and ag- 
gression, when he stands at the other pole of the relation to the 
alter, and exhibits himself as a bully, a tyrant, or at least, as master 
of his own conduct. Of course, heredity or "endowment" is on 
this side. And the social unit of desire, as far as the individual is 
taken as the measure of it, in any society, is the individual's rela- 



354 THE MONIST. 

tively fixed conduct, considered as reflecting the current social 
modes of life. 

It is easy to discern in the behavior of the child from about 
five years old, the blending of these two influences. Two children 
in the same family will differ possibly by all the width of the dis- 
tinction current in psychology by the terms "sensory versus motor " 
in their types or dispositions ; and yet we may see in them the in- 
fluence of the common environment. One acts at once on the ex- 
ample of the father ; the other reflects upon it, seems to understand 
it, and then finally acts upon what he thinks it means. The motor 
child learns by acting ; the sensory child learns and tests his learn- 
ing by subsequent action. But both end by getting the father's 
essential conduct learned. Both modify the thought of self by the 
new elements drawn from the father ; and act out the new self thus 
created : but each shows the elements differently interpreted in a 
synthesis with the former character which he had. 

Or take the same process of incorporating elements of social 
suggestion as they are absorbed respectively by a boy and a girl of 
about the same age. The differences of sex is a real and funda- 
mental difference, on the side of what is called "endowment" ; so 
we should expect that the same social suggestions given them would 
be taken up differently by them, and show different interpretations 
when the child of one sex or the other comes to act upon them. 
The boy is generally more aggressive, more prone to fall into the 
self-pole of high confidence in his abilities. And we find him refusing 
certain forms of suggestion say those coming from a female nurse 
which the female child readily responds to. Farthermore, the 
boy is capable, just for the same reason, of standing up to the 
rougher elements of his social melieu which only frighten and para- 
lyse his sister. And when the same suggestion is given to the boy 
and girl together, the former is likely to use it wherewith to exer- 
cise himself upon animals, etc., while the girl is more likely to use 
the new act strictly in an imitative way, repeating the actual con- 
duct of others. 1 

1 Of course, we can only say " more likely" in each instance, and in the other 
distinctions between them as well. 



THE GENESIS OF SOCIAL " INTERESTS. " 355 

But apart from the attempt to reduce these active interpreta- 
tions to general classes, it is enough here to point out the extraor- 
dinary variety which the same suggestions take on in the active in- 
terpretations by different children ; and to point out with it the 
need of recognising the fact that in this interpretation by the child 
there is always the fusion of the old self with the new elements 
coming in from the selves external to it. Every conscious interpre- 
tation of human action is, I think, of this essential kind. We think 
the deeds of others as we bring ourselves up to the performance of 
similar deeds ; and we do the deeds of others only as we ourselves 
are able to think them. In the case of the young child in the fam- 
ily, we may often tell how far he is learning correctly, and the par- 
ticular alter from whom he has taken his lesson. But in the larger 
social whole of adult life both elements are so complex the solidi- 
fied self of the individual's history is so fixed, and the social sug- 
gestions of the community are so varied and conflicting that the 
outcome of the fusion is a thing that no man can prophesy. 

So much for the individual child and his growing social per- 
sonality. We see in a measure what his interests are that is, what 
elements go to make his interests up. Let us now turn to the rest 
of the family in which he lives and briefly state the same inquiry in 
respect to them. Do the interests of the family conflict with his? 

Waiving the inquiry into the interests of the family group as a 
whole, that is, the question of objective interests apart from actual 
want or desire (as we did in the earlier case), our question now is 
about this : what can be said of the wants of the other individuals 
of the family in which the young hero, whose life we have so far 
described, lives and exploits himself? This seems to be answered, 
certainly in part, by the consideration that they have each been 
through the same process of growth in securing the notion of self, 
both the ego-self and the alter-self, that he has. Each has been a 
child. Each has imitated some persons and assaulted others. So, 
of course, of the other members of the flock of children in the fam- 
ily ; for they are the very specimens of the alter which have fur- 
nished to the hero his "socii" all the way through. So we have 
only to make them one by one hero in turn to see that then all the 



356 THE MONIST. 

others becomes socii ; and the group development replaces the 
individual development. Even the parents are in great measure 
capable of the same interpretation ; since they have furnished the 
largest amount of personal suggestion to all the children : and the 
children, in imitating one another, aggressing upon one another, 
etc., are really perpetuating the features of social life which char- 
acterise the parents' life. No family, of course, lives in such iso- 
lation as to be in any sense obliged to support itself upon its own 
social stock from one generation to another ; and there is the fur- 
ther modifying influence of the peculiar interpretation given to his 
social suggestions by each child, spoken of above. 1 But apart from 
the personal form in which the family suggestions are worked over 
by each child, we may say that the material of the social life of the 
family is largely common stock for all the members of the family. 
This means that the alter to each ego is the same self as the 
ego ; and that what has been said of the wants of the ego being not 
egoistic in the selfish sense, nor generous in the altruistic sense, 
{>ut general in the social sense, holds of the family group as a whole. 
What each child wants for himself, he wants more or less consciously 
for each member of his family. While he may assault his brother, 
viewing him as an alter to practise on in certain circumstances, 
how soon he turns in his defence in the presence of the alter foreign 
to them both, when the larger social ego of them both swells within 
his breast ! What boy among boys, what school-fellow among his 
companions, what Rob-Roy surrounded by the clan has not felt the 
socius, the common self of the group, come in to drive out the 
narrower ego of his life within the group? This is not to say that 
the interests of the group may not be more clearly seen by one 
member than by others, nor that direct conflicts may not arise in 
which some one ego will refuse to yield to the demands of the so- 
cius of the group. Those things may well be, and are. To say the 
contrary would be to say that the development of all the individuals 
was equal. For if each has his ego and his alter only by the assim- 
ilation of suggestions, then the amount of assimilation, of progres- 

l The degree of "originality" or "invention," which each child shows. 



THE GENESIS OF SOCIAL " INTERESTS. " 357 

sive learning of the possibilities and relationships of conduct must 
indicate what the sense of social good is to him. His insistence on 
his interpretation, however, is no more egoistic and selfish than is 
the insistence by the other members of the family on a different 
line of conduct. His double self, giving the socius, is in advance 
of theirs, but it arises in just the same way ; and it is just his social 
nature which compels him to fight for what seems to be a private 
and selfish interest. 

Apart from the apparent exceptions not really such now 
noted, we may say, therefore, that the interests of the family group 
are reflected in the wants of each member of the group. Hatred of 
society in this primitive family form of it, is pathological, if in- 
deed it be possible. Nothing but an upheaval of the foundations 
of personality can eradicate the sense of social solidarity in every 
child in a family. And the ultimate sanction for family life and its 
only permanent safeguard is here. No legal provisions could have 
originated it, no personal conventions advanced it, nor can it be 
endangered by foes from without. Nothing but the kind of sugges- 
tion in education which would replace the sort of socius represented 
in the family, by another sort, through the same process of identifi- 
cation of the self with its alter all the way through the history of the 
growth of personality, could affect it materially one way or the other. 

Moreover, it is just this fact of identity of personal and family 
interests which is responsible for the rise of the family considered 
from an evolution point of view. Animal families, if they are to 
survive as families, must be made up of individuals having ingrained 
in their instinctive life the social qualities which make the animal's' 
own struggle for existence at once also a struggle for the existence 
of the family group as such. So the child, in his personal growth, 
must become a person by becoming a socius. To separate the two 
is to annihilate the individual person : just as to eradicate the fam- 
ily instinct in the animal is to destroy his private chance for sur- 
vival, or if not that, at least to prevent the raising, and perhaps 
the very begetting, of a second generation. 

To trace the matter farther in the wider fields of social life 
would take us beyond our present limits. J. MARK BALDWIN. 



SOME POINTS IN INTRACRANIAL PHYSICS. 

TT IS NOT only in discussing the phenomena of mind that the 
-- use of metaphysical terms is not merely convenient but imper- 
ative. To impute personality to objects, and when abstract no- 
tions have been formed to regard these as representing entities, 
to endow them with the attributes, passions, powers we ascribe to 
persons, are among the earliest efforts of the nascent intelligence. 
The most highly-trained intellect still finds it convenient to adopt 
the same plan, and in certain directions finds it difficult to improve 
on it. 

In the development of mind, impression is the first stimulant 
of consciousness ; appearance color or form is the earliest recog- 
nition of an impressing agent ; variety and movement are among 
the first perceptions. Control over certain movements of the body, 
as in grasping, pushing, pulling, gives an instinctive notion of 
power ; and the idea of power, once got hold of, dominates our in- 
terpretation of every appearance and movement. 

It is characteristic of the rational mind that it must seek for 
causes, and if need be, invent them. It is not content, for example, 
to describe a feeling, and to say a body is heavy ; it desires a reason 
and says it has weight. Wherever work is done the presence of a 
working agent of a something that can exert power is inferred. 
Such words as "nature," "life," attraction," are constantly on the 
lips and are regarded as workers. They are spoken of as if en- 
dowed with Will, and as acting with an end in view. An anthro- 
pomorphic tendency or mode of expression will thus obtrude itself, 
whether an attempt is made to explain the rolling of a billiard ball, 
or to fathom the mystery of a first cause. 



SOME POINTS IN INTRACRANIAL PHYSICS. 359 

No term in the language is more wide-reaching in its applica- 
tion none is more metaphysical than the word Energy. It refers 
to the most generalised concept that has yet been given to account 
for the behavior of matter. It is the central genus round which 
cluster gravity and cohesion, heat, affinity, and other species. No 
appearance no physical change in the material universe can be 
interpreted without the assistance of one or several of its forms. It 
is the potential of all existence, of all experience, of all force. It is 

" A spirit of activity and life 
That knows no terra, cessation, or decay ; 

But, active, steadfast, and eternal, still 
Guides the fierce whirlwind, in the tempest roars, 
Cheers in the day, breathes in the balmy groves, 
Strengthens in health and poisons in disease." 1 

If we attempt to define with precision what energy is "in it- 
self" we must simply move in a circle. We are told it is "the 
power of doing work." But what is power? Another metaphys- 
ical word. It is energy in efficient relation to some definite end, 
and work is evidence of energy spent. In short, energy is an in- 
terpretation an imputed virtue an article in the creed of scientific 
faith a something that satisfies the reason in trying to account for 
work done. 

As a simple fact of existence, however, matter and energy are 
one and indissoluble. The necessities of language may require 
their separation in thought, but what we can alone investigate is 
the behavior of matter. That which gravitates or is heavy is a ma- 
terial body ; the atoms that clash together or fly asunder in the 
play of chemical affinity are solid 2 ; it is the commotion of mole- 
cules that communicates the feeling of heat ; if the ray of light fail 
to meet and to agitate material particles it remains "darkness vis- 
ible." We may talk of inertia but cannot conceive of matter being 

Shelly. The whole of the apostrophe to the "Spirit of Nature" in Queen 
Mab reads like a rhapsody on the doctrine of the conservation of energy. 

2 It would not affect the argument if atoms are "small, soft, flexible, or liquid 
masses." 






360 THE MONIST. 

absolutely inert. If it has form if it occupy space it must have 
properties. When acted on it will react ; when put in motion it 
may communicate motion. 

Energy doing work becomes force. Force implies motion and 
has its origin in disturbed equilibrium in a difference of degree or 
kind or position. 

It is no part of our plan to enlarge on the various kinds of 
energy or their modes of working. We must, however, glance 
shortly at some of the characteristics of energy as manifested in or- 
ganised structures. 

Life is a great worker, but it is rather a cluster of energies than 
by itself a specific form. It is often spoken of as and, indeed, 
believed by some to be an agent which can compel or control mo- 
tion in opposition to ordinary physical laws. As weight, however, 
is not something added to bodies, but is implied in the very consti- 
tution or concept of matter, so life is simply evidence that several 
kinds of energy are so co-ordinated that they work in harmony to- 
wards one end. The instruments are so small, the motions so sub- 
tle, the lines of force so mixed, that it may be impossible to trace 
all the individual links in the combination and sequence of changes. 
But science, like theology, has its articles of faith, and one of these 
is that no break in the continuity of motion can possibly occur. 

The solution of the problem lies in the subtle but powerful 
nature of molecular energy. Capillary attraction, osmosis, chem- 
ical affinity, heat, and other physical agencies act each in its own 
mode. They thus promote the movement and development of pro- 
toplasm in the cell, stimulate the growth of tissues, and condition 
the exercise of function. The force at individual points may be in- 
fmitesimally small, but, acting at innumerable centres and through 
myriads of lines of action, it may be used to so much advantage 
that, like the impulse from a piston in the hydraulic press, its 
effects may be great and far reaching. In time these are shown in 
the formation of large structures or powerful instruments. "As we 
"look at the roots of a mighty tree, it appears to us as if they had 
"forced themselves with giant violence into the solid earth. But 
"it is not so ; they were led on gently, cell added to cell, softly as 



SOME POINTS IN INTRACRANIAL PHYSICS. 361 

"the dews descended and the loosened earth made way. Once 
"formed, indeed, they expand with enormous power, but the spongy 
" condition of the growing radicles utterly forbids the supposition 
" that they are forced into the earth." 1 

A necessary condition of the development of growing struc- 
tures is a certain amount of physical restraint. This moulds form 
and determines the direction of growth. Even in the simplest cell 
the diffusion of fluids and the movement of granules require the re- 
straint of the cell wall. Without such limiting influence the speck 
of protoplasm would be speedily resolved into amorphous matter. 
Under repression the growth or multiplication of cells gives rise to 
expansive pressure. This, if met by opposing pressure, reacts on 
the molecules themselves and leads to tension to an improved ad- 
justment to storage of energy. The tension becomes a force 
which, as in the bud, the seed, the egg, can compel firm envelopes 
to give way, and thus the growth of structure is allowed to proceed 
in the direction of least resistance. 

"Development, then, is due to increase under limit ; it is de- 
"termined by resistance. Is it not self-evident? Conceive of an 
"ovum germinating with all other circumstances unaltered, but 
"with no external limitations, no membranes, no uterus, nothing 
"to check expansion in any form. Could anything else result but 
"a shapeless multitude of cells ?" 2 The bearing of all this on in- 
tracranial physics will be seen immediately. 

The skull may be regarded as a gigantic cell in whose interior 
the play of various kinds of energy is powerful and unceasing. It 
is unnecessary here to enlarge upon it as an organ of protection. 
Its qualities in this respect speak for themselves. We have simply 
to handle it to notice that by their configuration and texture its 
walls are so constructed as to ensure in the most economical man- 
ner lightness, strength, and elasticity in order to recognise its fit- 
ness to protect an organ of such delicate structure and important 
function as the brain. 

1 Hinton. "On Physical Morphology." Brit, and For. Med. Chirurg. Rev. 
Oct., 1858. 

2 Hinton. Op. cit. 



362 THE MONIST. 

But it has another and at least equally important office. It is 
able to place severe restraint on the forces battling within its cav- 
ity, and the thesis I wish now to submit and support in the present 
paper is that such restraint is necessary to enable the brain to ac- 
cumulate or concentrate its specific form of energy, and to permit 
the latter to be liberated with economy and precision. 

Assuming in the meantime that an expanding force exists, and 
that in certain circumstances the brain would become more bulky 
if the restraint of the cranial wall were withdrawn, it is at once ob- 
vious that the greater the expansive force, the greater too must be 
the reaction on the brain itself. That is to say, stress the tension 
of combined action and reaction must be increased. This stress 
will be equalised through the whole cranial cavity. The brain itself 
floats on, and is so thoroughly permeated by fluids, that the law of 
fluid pressure must come into play, and the tension, therefore, will 
not be greater at one point than at another. 

But although stress be equalised, the solid elements of the 
brain itself may to a limited extent be displaced. They may be so 
pushed aside by the fluids being augmented or diminished in par- 
ticular vessels, that from this cause the outcome of the brain's ac- 
tivity may be greatly modified. 

Our first step, then, must be to determine the sources of pres- 
sure and the factors that may influence its amount and direction. 

The main source of intracranial pressure is, of course, the 
movement of blood in the vessels. The brain is the most vascular 
of organs, and is fed by four arteries of considerable size. These 
anastomose freely at the inner base of the skull, and form a circle 
from which a supply of blood can be readily directed to any part of 
the brain where for the moment there is a demand for it. 

We do not require here to trace in detail the distribution of 
the various arteries. Suffice it to say they all lose themselves in 
the pia mater in a remarkably fine network of vessels. When they 
penetrate the brain they are too minute to be traced further with 
the scalpel. Practically, therefore, the arterial circulation of the 
whole brain mass is entirely capillary. 

Through vessels also of capillary minuteness the venous blood 



SOME POINTS IN INTRACRANIAL PHYSICS. 363 

is returned to the veins of the pia mater. Having reached this mem- 
brane they coalesce, and becoming gradually larger, they cross the 
surface of the convolutions and empty themselves into the " sinuses " 
of the dura mater. These are channels tunnelled through the firm 
inelastic tissue of that membrane, and we may afterwards find a 
reason for such a termination. 

The//0 mater, then, is quite a unique structure. It is simply 
a complex web of minute arterial and venous vessels. As seen 
when the dura mater is removed it closely invests the whole brain 
and lies like a fine pad between opposing convolutions. 

An interesting mechanical problem here presents itself. How 
is it that strangulation does not frequently occur in the circulation 
of the pia mater? On the one hand, we have the brain mass, a large, 
very vascular body whose circulation we may assume is liable, like 
that of every other organ, to considerable variations ; and in imme- 
diate contact, but lying completely external to it, is this membrane 
with a double plexus of vessels, one set feeding and the other drain- 
ing the nerve-tissues. Now, if an expansive impulse be given to 
the brain through the arterial vessels, how is it that the membrane 
is not so compressed against the dura mater as to check its circula- 
tion altogether? Such an accident would, of course, be serious. 
It would involve the immediate collapse of the brain-functions. 

By keeping this problem in view we will be led to notice some 
interesting peculiarities in the intracranial circulation and pres- 
sures. 

In the first place, the arteries enter the skull in a curious fash- 
ion. The internal carotid before and after it has left the temporal 
bone is curved like the letter s, and the vertebrals take also a tor- 
tuous course on piercing the dura mater. Such an arrangement 
must lessen any direct impetus given to the brain circulation by 
the action of the heart. 

Then the extent to which the arteries at the base of the brain 
can be over-filled must be extremely limited. The cranial cavity 
is not only absolutely full, but as it is flushed with fluids moving, 
as we shall afterwards find, under considerable stress, it may be 
said to be tensely filled with incompressible material. It is obvi- 



364 THE MONIST. 

ous, therefore, that not a drop of blood can enter by the arteries 
unless an exactly equivalent bulk is at the same moment discharged 
by the veins. It is also evident that if some sudden impetus threat- 
ened to distend the brain beyond physiological limits, its mass 
would at once react by pressure on the larger arteries themselves 
and check the flow of blood through them by diminishing their 
calibre. 

A third factor is the relation of the blood in the intracranial 
veins to the pressure of the atmosphere. As this relationship is 
one of importance it requires to be treated with some detail. 

A glance at the solid structure of the adult cranium may con- 
vince any one that the weight of the atmosphere cannot bear directly 
on the contents of its cavity. Numerous foramina exist, but in the 
clothed skull every one of these is securely plugged. No fissure 
can be detected by which the air-pressure can possibly insinuate 
itself. 

Through the blood-vessels, however, that enter or make their 
exit at the base of the skull, an indirect but most important in- 
fluence can be brought to bear. Throughout the whole vertebrate 
kingdom, whatever may be the shape of the skull, or however com- 
pletely the body of an animal may be encased in unyielding struc- 
tures, there is always in the neck such an amount of soft textures 
as will allow the atmospheric pressure to bear on the blood-vessels 
in that region. As pressure on a fluid is communicated in all direc- 
tions, then through these vessels the atmosphere may be brought 
to bear on the whole interior of the cranial cavity. It will be di- 
rected therefore, not on the external surface of the vessels, as in 
most other parts of the body, but on their internal surface. 

Such a relationship ensures constant fulness of the cranial cav- 
ity. Moreover, a little consideration may show that within the 
latter the mass of blood must be remarkably uniform. The prin- 
cipal contents of the cavity are the brain-substance, the blood, and 
the cerebro-spinal fluid. No one of these constituents can be altered 
in bulk unless one or both of the others be altered inversely. So 
long, therefore, as the brain-substance and the extravascular fluid 
remain unchanged, the absolute quantity of blood within the intra- 



SOME POINTS IN INTRACRANIAL PHYSICS. 365 

cranial vessels must also remain unchanged, although in its mode 
of distribution it may be liable to endless variations. Some physi- 
ologists suppose that the cerebro-spinal fluid can readily flow to 
and from the spinal canal and thus affect the mass of blood within 
the cavity, but we will afterwards find reasons to question the cor- 
rectness of that opinion. 

An obviously important purpose is gained by this relation to 
the atmospheric pressure. The untoward effect of gravitation on 
the circulation within the head is completely counteracted. Were 
the cranial wall as pliable as that of the abdomen, the brain would 
be liable to endless changes in its amount. Indeed, it would be 
simply impossible to maintain the erect posture on account of the 
draining that would immediately take place from the vessels. 

Again, in its immediate action on the intracranial circulation, 
the tendency of the atmospheric pressure will be to favor the move- 
ment onwards in the arterial vessels, and to oppose that in the 
veins. It is to the latter circumstance we have especially to attend 
at present. The moving blood in the veins must at every moment 
be subjected to a backward pressure, the tendency of which must be 
to retain the blood within the cavity. It will be communicated 
through the sinuses of the dura mater onward to the smallest veins 
in the pia mater, and from the tension so produced it will prove an 
important means of preventing the circulation in the membrane 
from becoming strangulated. 

How, then, it may be asked, how can the blood escape from 
the intracranial sinuses? It can only do so by an equilibrium of 
pressure being maintained between the surface of the body and the 
cranial cavity. If the pressure within the latter balances that on 
the surface the flow of blood will not be interrupted ; if it be to the 
least extent lower, the blood will refuse to circulate. Its exit would 
be effectually blocked by the atmospheric pressure. 

As the moving blood is the agent which directly produces the 
internal pressure, it becomes important to determine the factors 
that condition its volume and velocity in the intracranial vessels. 
Is the action of the heart on the general circulation sufficient to 
keep up the required pressure, or must some further special assist- 



366 THE MONIST. 

ance be afforded to the capillary circulation? These questions will 
lead us to discuss the most important of all the problems in intra- 
cranial physics. 

That the amount of blood determined to individual parts is in 
proportion to the demand for it is a principle that applies to every 
tissue and organ in the body. Functional activity increases and 
rest lessens the demand. In an actively secreting organ, as, for 
example, the mammary gland, the amount of blood in and trans- 
mitted through its vessels in a given time is much greater than 
when its function is in abeyance. 

Considerable difference of opinion exists as to the mechanism 
by which local distribution is modified. Many eminent physiolo- 
gists insist that the only source of impulse to the circulation is the 
action of the heart, and that the vasomotor nerves are to be cred- 
ited with the power of promoting or limiting local supply. That the 
action of these nerves may influence the circulation is undoubted, 
but that they alone are responsible for every local change may be 
more than questioned. A great deal may be said in favor of the 
opinion that metabolic activity in the tissue itself has directly to do 
with local circulation. 

In an essay like the present we cannot enlarge on all the side 
issues that may open up, but as this point is an important one in 
our discussion I may venture to submit a single "stubborn fact" 
that bears directly on the question. 

Every one who knows anything of anatomy is aware that in 
the abdomen all the blood returned from the stomach, intestines, 
etc., has to pass through the liver before it can reach the vena 
cava, and so be transmitted onwards to the heart. It is first col- 
lected into one large vessel the portal Vein. This divides into 
two branches which enter the liver, one to each lobe. There they 
subdivide like an artery until they become minute capillaries ; then 
gradually uniting and enlarging they form the hepatic vein which 
empties into the vena cava. 

The problem here is : how is this portal circulation kept up ? 
Evidently considerable force must be required to enable such a 
mass of blood to traverse such an extensive and minute ramifica- 



SOME POINTS IN INTRACRANIAL PHYSICS. 367 

tion of vessels. Then, unless one of the most fundamental prin- 
ciples in physics be suspended, that force must react as backward 
pressure on the blood in the mesenteric veins. But these are weak, 
thin-walled vessels that are quite unfit to bear any serious strain. 

It has been argued that the suction force of the heart, acting 
as a vis a fronte, is sufficient to enable the portal circulation to be 
carried on. An obvious fallacy may be detected here. If the 
suction of the right auricle can affect the movement of blood in the 
mesenteric veins, it must be because the pliable wall of the ab- 
domen can permit the pressure of the atmosphere to bear on these 
vessels. But the same pressure will also bear on the whole external 
surface of the liver, and thus that on the veins is completely neu- 
tralised, so far as power to influence the portal circulation is con- 
cerned. 

What, then, are the forces that keep up that circulation? A 
survey of all the surroundings precludes the notion of any mechan- 
ical force urging the blood onwards from behind. We are there- 
fore driven to the conclusion that, however obscure the mode of 
operation may be, the unceasing commotion of the tissue molecules 
must have to do with the movement, as must necessarily be the 
case with that of fluids in the vegetable kingdom. Just as in brisk 
combustion, the air, in spite of the repelling influence of intense 
heat, is drawn with some force from one direction and hurried on 
in another, so in all the textures where metabolism is going on, 
the physical interchanges between the fluids within and outside the 
capillary walls, the chemical affinities, the attractions and repul- 
sions, the inconceivably rapid oscillation of the molecules, all go 
to constitute a force which draws the blood onwards and actively 
transmits it through the capillaries. 

Assuming this view of the capillary circulation to be tenable, 
we shall find not only that its application to the brain is most im- 
portant, but that within the skull we may also find convincing evi- 
dence of its correctness. 

In restricting attention to intracranial physics, we have to study 
the brain as we would any instrument whose energy may at one 
time be potential and at another kinetic. The essential or domi- 



368 THE MONIST. 

nant factors and the influence of surroundings in modifying the 
activity of these ; the conditions that affect the storage and conser- 
vation or intensity of energy, and those that stimulate its liberation 
or determine the direction of its discharge, such are some of the 
points that must be settled before the action of the brain as a phy- 
siological organ can be understood. 

The dominant factor in intracranial physics is undoubtedly the 
molecular activity of the grey matter of the brain ; and concomitant 
with that is the circulation of healthy blood. Could some subtly 
penetrating x-rays reveal to us the interior of the working brain, 
we should find ourselves looking into a veritable maelstrom of 
commotion. The blood rushing and surging in all directions ; myr- 
iads of fibrous structures quivering intensely, and the molecules of 
grey matter oscillating with inconceivable rapidity, all which, in 
the absence of demonstration, the imagination to the extent of its 
faculty must see. 

So intimate is the relation between the molecular activity and 
the capillary circulation, that these two agencies must be regarded 
as practically one factor. In every manifestation of the brain's 
functions they must work in harmony. In the production of heat 
or light in ordinary combustion, the carbon and oxygen are 0ne, 
and the specific energy of the brain tissue can no more be exercised 
without free circulation of blood than fuel can burn without air. 
The molecular commotion powerfully attracts the blood ; the latter 
conditions the activity of the brain cells and determines the amount 
and direction of pressure. 

If, then, we can specify with a moderate amount of precision 
some of the conditions that control or modify the movement of the 
circulating fluid, we may to that extent be able to explain not the 
translation of molecular into psychical energy, but various aspects 
of cerebral activity, just as the engineer knows how the heat of his 
furnace may be modified by regulating the supply of air to the fuel. 

Taking, then, the brain in full swing of activity, responding 
to present, or reviving and weaving into endless combinations for- 
mer impressions, charged with an energy which, when liberated, 
is correlated to the subtlest psychical activity, the blood will at 



SOME POINTS IN INTRACRANIAL PHYSICS. 369 

the same moment flush the capillaries with an actively distending 
pressure, the brain mass will be at its fullest bulk, and its discharg- 
ing energy at the strongest. But if energy, potentially strong, be 
diffused, power is lost. Some physical restraint is essential in or- 
der to control the direction of motion and to condition the amount 
of force. Under repression energy accumulates ; it becomes more 
intense, more concentrated if directed into some special channel ; 
more ready to cause explosion if an easy pathway is not opened. 
In the brain, therefore, outward pressure is speedily met by counter- 
pressure, partly passive in the unyielding cranial wall, partly active 
in the energetic movement of fluids on its external surface. 

We thus become impressed by the circumstance that the func- 
tions of the brain must be exercised under considerable stress. In- 
dividual forces seem to be acting in direct antagonism to one an- 
other. Currents of fluids are rushing with great velocity and pres- 
sing in opposite directions. Then remembering that all this takes 
place in a space whose capacity is rigidly fixed, we find there must 
be great tension within the whole cranial cavity. 

In physics we have endless illustrations of the behavior of en- 
ergy under stress. It strives to reveal itself, and all nature gives 
evidence of its success. The super-heated steam, surging in vain 
against the walls of the boiler, spends its force on the piston and 
puts powerful levers in motion. The illustration which perhaps 
affords the best analogy to the conditions of nervous energy is 
the storage and discharge of electricity in the accumulator. The 
molecular structure of certain substances with suitable surround- 
ings can be so charged with that form of energy, that notwithstand : 
ing violent commotion in the material particles, it can be confined 
like water in a cistern and may thence be tapped with marvellous 
precision. 

One of the immediate physical results of uniform tension 
through the cranial cavity will be that a tendency to vibration will 
be favored. The brain-substance itself is pulpy, and no more able 
to vibrate than a bit of soft clay, but under the tension of energetic 
molecular motion and active capillary circulation the whole con- 
tents of the cavity will be subjected to the laws of fluid pressure, 



370 THE MONIST. 

and a thrill at one point may make its influence felt through the 
whole space. The brain may thus be likened to a musical instru- 
ment with its chords all taut and ready to respond with a clear tone 
to the slightest sympathetic touch. 

As is well known, Dr. Hartley traced all the functions of the 
brain, whether receptive or responsive, to vibrations. The specu- 
lations of that author have been considered obsolete and are now 
seldom referred to, but, although his physiology is vitiated by the 
circumstance that he places the whole energising power in the 
" white medullary substance," and that he does not enter into the 
physical conditions of vibrations, some of his ''observations " may 
still be worth recalling. 

"External objects impressed upon the senses occasion, first, in the nerves on 
which they are impressed, and then in the brain, vibrations of the small, and, as 
one may say, infinitesimal medullary particles. 

" These vibrations are movements backwards and forwards of the small par- 
ticles ; of the same kind with the oscillations of pendulums, and the tremblings of 
the particles of sounding bodies. They must be conceived to be exceedingly short 
and small, so as not to have the least efficacy to disturb or move the whole bodies 
of the nerves or brain. . . . 

" The vibrations are excited, propagated, and kept up partly in the ether, i. e., 
in a very subtle and elastic fluid, and partly by the uniformity, continuity, soft- 
ness, and active powers of the medullary substance of the brain, spinal marrow, 
and nerves. . . . 

" One may conjecture, indeed, that the rays of light excite vibrations in the 
small particles of the optic nerve by a direct and immediate action, for it seems 
probable from the alternate fits of easy transmission and reflexion, that the rays of 
light are themselves agitated by very subtle vibrations, and consequently that they 
must communicate these directly and immediately to the particles of the optic 
nerves. . . . 

" As soon as the vibrations enter the brain they begin to be propagated freely 
every way over the whole medullary substance ; being diminished in strength in 
proportion to the quantity of matter agitated." 1 

Hartley's conjectures as to the transmission of impressions are 
probably quite correct, and the intracranial tension will help to 
sustain the vibrations through the brain-substance. Having traced 

1 Observations on Man; His Frame, His Duty, and His Expectations. By 
David Hartley, M. D. (1749.) 



SOME POINTS IN INTRACRANIAL PHYSICS. 371 

these to the sensory centre, and found the molecular energies of 
the latter in such play as to impress the consciousness, the phys- 
icist stops. Unlike Hartley, he does not venture to affirm that sen- 
sations are vibrations. 

Turning to the motor centres and still restricting attention 
mainly to physical conditions, we shall find that something more 
than molecular and capillary activity is required for the successful 
discharge of their energy. If the principle that action and reaction 
are equal and contrary is of universal application, it must apply not 
only to the brain as a whole, but also to every energising centre, 
whether it subserves sensory, motor, or higher functions. In dis- 
charging its energy each motor centre has, of course, it own mo- 
lecular activity greatly raised. This involves more excited circula- 
tion and consequently greater outward pressure. Now, if this is 
not met by a sufficiently stable reaction-pressure, the result will be 
failure of function. If the surrounding structures, instead of resist- 
ing, yield by allowing themselves to be pushed aside, tension in the 
centre will be lessened, energy will be diffused, and the resulting 
force will bear with less effect. 

A one-pound weight can be lifted with ease ; in lifting fifty-six 
pounds considerable effort is required. The arm muscles involved 
are in each case the same ; the physical action of the brain must be 
very materially modified. 

The nerve-centres in the brain for the muscles of the arm are 
very limited in extent, and are formed of material that, if exposed, 
might be bruised to pulp by the pressure of a finger. How is it 
that their energy can be so concentrated that powerful effects can 
be produced? 

In lifting a heavy weight with the hand, provision must be 
made for preserving the equilibrium of the body itself, and the 
means required for this purpose also serve for giving the necessary 
support to the energising centre. The assistance of a large number 
of other muscles is required, and as one after another is called into 
play, tension in a series of corresponding centres is also increased. 
The stress so occasioned being equalised through the whole cranial 
cavity, the means of concentrating energy in a limited area are af- 



372 THE MONIST. 

forded. A fulcrum is found for the moving power. Thus the ener- 
getic use of a very few muscles may involve the active co-operation 
of the whole cerebral apparatus. Straining tension on the one hand 
and steady support on the other are essential. However strenu- 
ously the Will may attempt to operate, it will fail in the presence 
of a flaccid brain. We may as well expect the piston of an engine 
to be efficiently raised when there is a rent in the boiler, or look 
for a brilliant stream of electric light by simply rubbing a bit of 
amber. 1 

If our arguments as to the existence and degree of intracranial 
tension be tenable, if pressures occur simultaneously from various 
directions, and if the stress so occasioned is necessary for efficient 
discharge of function, two corollaries may be drawn. In the first 
place, something more than the vis a tergo from the action of the 
heart will be required to maintain the cerebral circulation. The 
influence of vasomotor nerves here is nil. The most careful re- 
search has failed to discover their presence, and yet changes in 
local distribution through the brain must be of constant occurrence. 
The blood will move through the vessels, not passively, but with 
an actively distending force resulting from the direct influence of 
molecular changes. These powerfully attract the blood and urge 
it onwards through the vessels. 

In the second place, the opinion of physiologists as to the be- 
havior of the cerebro-spinal fluid must be modified. There can be 
no question as to the immense importance of this fluid. Wherever 
one part of the brain so overlaps another that the surfaces are not 

1 An interesting illustration from pathology may be given to show how an im- 
portant influence, purely physical in its nature, may be exerted by one centre on 
another. In the disease called ' ' locomotor ataxy " the power of so co-ordinating 
the muscles as to control the direction of movement is greatly impaired. There is 
no paralysis, but the muscles fail to work in harmony. The spinal cord is consid- 
ered to be the principal seat of disease, but tone appears to be lowered in all the 
higher nerve centres. A patient so affected may stand with tolerable steadiness so 
long as he keeps his eyes open. But let him shut his eyes and he not only becomes 
unsteady, but, if not supported, he will fall heavily to the ground. Thus the centre 
for vision when active keeping a certain hold on its circulation and therefore on 
cerebral pressure affords such favorable mechanical conditions for the play of 
some motor centres, that if in certain circumstances its influence be withdrawn no 
effort of the Will can prevent complete collapse. 



SOME POINTS IN INTRACRANIAL PHYSICS. 373 

in perfectly close apposition, there we have it present. Its use is 
to give such an amount of steady hydrostatic pressure as will main- 
tain an equal strain through the cranial cavity, and thus to prevent 
jolt or jar to the delicate nerve-structures. But if it can fluc- 
tuate between the cranial and spinal cavities with the ease many 
writers assert, it would become a source of positive danger instead 
of being an important agent in conserving the brain's energy. If 
any sudden or strong strain be required, it would be apt to move 
away when its passive but steady support may be most essential,, 
and the conditions of successful discharge of energy would be there- 
fore weakened. Of course, if a strain be kept up for a length of 
time, the fluid may be absorbed or it may be increased according 
as the pressure is from the brain itself or is within the veins, but 
as between the cranial and spinal cavities it must in ordinary cir- 
cumstances be practically a stable quantity. 

It would lead us far beyond the limits of a paper like the pres- 
ent to discuss fully the various modes in which by their mutual re- 
actions on one another the active brain and its correlated circula- 
tion may throw light on psychical operations. I shall simply touch 
on a single point where the physical element is still an important 
factor. 

The mass of blood in the intracranial vessels being practically 
a fixed quantity, no alteration can occur in one set of vessels or in 
one region of the brain without an inverse change taking place in 
some other quarter. 

If we take the brain at any moment when its functions are qui- 
escent but not suspended, a certain equilibrium in its circulation 
must be present. This equilibrium will be disturbed at once if a 
stimulus sensory, volitional, or ideational call any special centre 
into brisk activity. The blood will be determined toward that point 
in fuller volume. This focussing of the circulation will react on the 
centre itself and condition or increase its energising powers. Its 
function will be exercised with greater efficiency. But as the abso- 
lute mass of blood that can be drawn on is limited, less of that fluid 
can at the same moment be allowed to other parts, and therefore 
the functional capacity of the latter must be lowered. 



374 THE MONIST. 

For example, if the centre for vision be impressed by an ex- 
tensive landscape, and the consciousness is engrossed in discrimi- 
nating its varied features in detail, hill and valley, forest and 
meadow, river and lake, the centres for ideation must be deprived 
of such share in the circulation as is required for successful ener- 
gising, and the reasoning faculty will be therefore in comparative 
abeyance. On the other hand, if the solution of some problem 
requiring close consecutive thinking is being successfully carried 
out, the balance will be away from the sensory centres and im- 
pressions on these will be blunted. The features of the landscape 
now become blurred or they are not at all noticed. 

The existence of some such principle the possibility of an 
infinitesimally graduated equilibrium in the circulation occurring 
in response to local molecular requirements must underlie and 
condition the various phases of attention ; and if of attention, then 
of volition and all the other mental activities. But we cannot 
further enlarge on this aspect of our subject. Enough has been 
said to show that it is greatly owing to the fact that the brain is 
"cribbed, cabined, confined" within a rigidly limited space that its 
functions can be exercised with smoothness and efficiency. We 
may now inquire, shortly, whether the elementary physical prin- 
ciples we have been making use of may not also be of service in 
discussing the conditions that are required to ensure rest to the 
fatigued brain. 

In trying to frame a theory as to the causation of sleep, what 
should we look for? 

In the first place, some mechanism must be discovered which, 
if put in action, can enforce physiological rest to the brain. The 
mechanism must be gradual in its operation, but ultimately so effec- 
tive that that organ will for the time be unable to respond to or- 
dinary impressions, or to afford the conditions of coherent thought. 
In the second place, it must be powerful enough to keep the brain's 
functions in abeyance sufficiently long to allow such repair or re- 
adjustment of the molecular structures to take place that a reserve 
of nerve energy may be stored up. Lastly, it must be such that if 
a stronger stimulus sensory, emotional, or rational shall require 



SOME POINTS IN INTRACRANIAL PHYSICS. 375 

it, the period of sleep may be postponed, or the soundest sleep may 
be broken, and a state of alert wakefulness at once restored. 

A moment's consideration may convince one that metabolic 
change alone, or that along with simply diminished circulation, 
will not fulfil these indications. We can understand, indeed, that 
the molecular energy of the brain may be so exhausted that func- 
tional capacity for the time being will be lost ; or we can suppose 
the circulation to be so far reduced that the brain may be unfit to 
subserve any mental function. But if either or both these condi- 
tions contributed all that would be necessary to induce sleep, seri- 
ous drawbacks would be associated with their working. The period 
when sleep would supervene would not depend on the convenience 
of the individual, but would occur whenever a certain amount of 
katabolic change had been brought about. Moreover, some local 
centre or centres becoming exhausted before others, co-ordination 
among them would be lost. A state of dreaming of incoherent 
thought and diminished voluntary control would be constantly 
occurring. In short, mental unity would be destroyed. 

An additional factor, then, is still lacking, but before referring 
to it, an important fact in connexion with the exercise of brain 
functions requires to be noticed. 

If the brain be exposed by injury of the skull, consciousness 
can be at once suspended by a certain amount of pressure being 
applied to its surface. This fact has long been known. In some 
cases alternations of waking and sleep could be brought about at 
the will of the operator. The reason may possibly be analogous to 
the effect produced by a rude touch on a vibrating bell or wire, - 
vibration is checked and the tone vanishes. Also, some change in 
the capillary circulation is likely to have to do with it. The ques- 
tion, then, comes to be : have we any means physiological in origin 
but mechanical in operation available for the purpose of producing 
compression of the brain? If so, we may find a clue to the condi- 
tions that are effective in sleep. 

Now, in the venous circulation of the pia mater we have such 
a means, and its mode of operation may be traced with tolerable 
precision. 



376 THE MONIST. 

We have already seen that these vessels are being constantly 
acted on by two opposing forces. There is, in the first place, the 
pressure of the brain mass on their external surface tending to oblit- 
erate them ; and, secondly, there is the backward pressure occa- 
sioned by the weight of the atmosphere bearing on their internal 
surface, and tending to dilate them. Here then we have an inter- 
esting but simple problem in the composition of forces. Is a con- 
stant equilibrium preserved between them, or is there an ebb and 
flow in one or in both? 

The pressure of the atmosphere may be regarded as practically 
a constant quantity. It of course varies, but any change will affect 
arterial and venous vessels alike. In ordinary circumstances, there- 
fore, its variations cannot appreciably influence the intracranial 
circulation. 1 

The expansive pressure of the brain, however, varies consider- 
ably. After a certain amount of functional activity the molecular 
commotion naturally tends to become languid, and, as the direct 
result of this, the capillary circulation is less energetic. The blood 
pressure within the vessels must now bear outwards with less force, 
and the expansive tendency of the brain as a whole will therefore 
be weakened. 

When this condition has been induced, and if the terms of the 
problem have been correctly stated, if no essential factor has been 
overlooked, it becomes very evident what will happen. The at- 
mospheric pressure will now bear with greater effect within the 
venous vessels. It has not become stronger, but the opposing force 
is weaker. The vessels will become distended by the movement 
of blood being retarded. Until a stable equilibrium has been again 
reached, more blood will enter the veins than is being expelled from the 
skull. 

This conclusion may be argued in another way. It is the united 

J One reason why, in addition to the less stimulating effect of the oxygen of the 
air, the power of exertion is so crippled in high altitudes, may be that the greatly 
diminished pressure on the venous system of vessels within the skull allows the 
blood to escape too readily from the cavity. There is not sufficient backward pres- 
sure to serve as a fulcrum against the energising, and therefore outwardly distend- 
ing, brain mass. 



SOME POINTS IN INTRACRANIAL PHYSICS. 377 

testimony of all those who have investigated the subject experi- 
mentally, that during sleep the brain mass contracts. The following 
is Dr. Hammond's statement as to what he noticed while observing 
the brain of a dog through an opening in the skull. " While this 
"state (of sleep) was coming on I watched the brain very atten- 
tively. Its volume slowly decreased ; many of its small blood- 
-vessels became invisible, and finally it was so contracted that its 
"surface, pale and apparently deprived of blood, was far below the 
< ' level of the cranial wall. " J 

But if the brain tends to contract it must give rise to a suction 
effort. Is there any structure or fluid on which this can be exerted 
with success ? It is simply impossible that a vacuum can be left. 
The absolute fulness of the cranial cavity must still be maintained. 
Evidently, the cranial wall cannot respond ; it is too rigid. Nor 
can the fluid in the spinal canal respond, it is completely removed 
from the direct influence of the atmospheric pressure. The only 
structure that can respond is the moving blood in the veins of the 
pia mater, and it can only do so by its flow being retarded, and of 
course, by the vessels becoming distended. 

This altered balance in the circulation does not affect the ab- 
solute mass of blood within the skull ; it only affects its mode of 
distribution. It will still happen that for every drop that enters the 
cavity, an equal quantity must at the same moment be dislodged 
into the jugular veins. 

At this stage, then, we find the following physical conditions : 
first, the capillary circulation of the brain diminished ; second, the 
veins of the pia mater distended ; and third, the mass of brain sub- 
stance contracted or compressed ; can we assign to these conditions 
any physiological significance? 

Unless some serious fallacy in our argument has been fallen 
into, it may with confidence be submitted that in the sequence and 
combination of these conditions, we have sufficient material to en- 
able us to frame a theory as to the induction and continuance of 
sleep. No one of them by itself can be called the cause of sleep. 

1 On Wakefulness. By William A. Hammond, M. D. 



378 THE MONIST. 

Compression of the brain is only the last stage of a sequence, and 
it may be considered permissive as much as enforced. The molec- 
ular commotions are still at every step and stage the dominant fac- 
tor. A slight increase of stimulus may undo the whole inhibitory 
process, and with molecular activity restored we have wakefulness 
and intelligence. The compression, however, is required in ordi- 
nary circumstances to secure a sufficiently long rest. A certain 
amount of vibratory energy is still maintained. Those forms of 
metabolic activity which are purely nutritive and reparative must 
be kept up. These lead to recuperation to improved adjustment 
to storage of energy to restored function. 

We can now appreciate the reason why the venous blood from 
the//# mater is emptied into channels with firm inelastic walls, in- 
stead of being carried on to an outlet in the skull in vessels of the 
ordinary kind. The pressure from the veins is not of a passive na- 
ture. It is derived from the moving fluid within them and is there- 
fore active. The volume of their contained blood will determine 
the amount of pressure they exert. Then the numerous contribu- 
tories to one vein would soon so increase its bulk that the pressure 
from it would be simply paralysing in its effect. The brain struc- 
tures would fail to react sufficiently against it. The venous sinus 
is therefore so constructed that its capacity is scarcely, if at all, 
affected by pressure either from within or from without its walls. 

I do not pretend to have exhausted all the modes in which the 
bearing of elementary physical principles on intracranial activities 
may be considered. I hope I have said enough, however, to show 
that their study deserves more attention than is usually given. In 
coming to close quarters with the problems of psychology more 
progress is likely to be made by taking a comprehensive survey of 
general relationships and mechanical adjustments than from ex- 
haustive microscopic and chemical research. However interesting 
the facts may be in themselves, it cannot be said that much light 
has been thrown on the brain's mode of energising by having ascer- 
tained the size and shape and disposition of its cells and fibres. A 
knowledge of the molecular structure of a lever may enable one to 
judge of its fitness for a particular purpose, but it does not reveal 



SOME POINTS IN INTRACRANIAL PHYSICS. 379 

to us the laws of leverage. The relations of the moving power to 
the resistance to be overcome and to the point of resistance that 
must be stable are to be learned in other ways. So with the brain, 
the wider the survey we can take of the physical conditions and 
relations that affect its working, the more impressed will we be with 
the number whose influence must be focussed in every act of suc- 
cessful cerebration, and therefore in every manifestation of corre- 
lated mental activity. However subtle the latter may be, how- 
ever independent of all physical trammels the meditating, reasoning- 
comprehending soul may seem to itself to be, the brain is still the 
indispensable energising agent, and as such it cannot escape the 
tyranny of mechanical limitations and adjustments, nor of the laws 
to which all motions are subservient. 

JAMES CAPPIE, M. D. 
EDINBURGH. 



THE CONFLICT OF RACES, CLASSES, AND 
SOCIETIES. 1 

"TT 7TTHIN FIFTY YEARS/' said Napoleon at the time of 
* his greatest glory, and therefore when his words were ac- 
cepted as an oracle, "Europe will be Republican or Cossack." 
Fifty years have passed and many more, and still there is not the 
slightest indication of its becoming the one or the other. Events 
must have followed the counsel of Marquis Colombe : "Between 
yes and no, be of the contrary opinion." For instance, we have had 
a Franco-Russian alliance, which, in spite of the cause which Le- 
vasseur wished to find for it in German politics, 2 was none the less 
a fact. And yet, Europe is not Cossack, and does not seem in the 
way of becoming so. France indeed is Republican, but an enthusi- 
astic French Republican, Frederic Passy, recently acknowledged : 
"I do not believe it possible to hold Europe for Republicanism, 
much less to say that it will become so and when." 3 So the conflict 
between French society and the Cossack race, predicted by Napo- 
leon, and which was to decide the destiny of Europe has not taken 
place. Instead there has been a Franco-Russian alliance for com- 
bating another alliance between Germany, Italy, and Austro-Hun- 
gary. These three nations, or at least the first two, as commonly 
considered, do not form a society, much less a race. Then what has 
become of the famous theory of the Rassenkampf? The Roumanians, 
the Servians, and the Slavs certainly do not form a race, and yet they 

1 Translated from Professor Flamingo's Manuscript by I. W. Howerth, Univer- 
sity of Chicago. 

2 Levasseur, La population franfaise, Paris, 1892, Vol. III. 
3 F. Passy, Uavenir de ? Europe, Paris, 1895, Vol. I. 



THE CONFLICT OF RACES, CLASSES, AND SOCIETIES. 381 

are united in a struggle against the Magyars. The Poles in Prussia 
and the Danes of Schleswig, however Teutonic the latter may be by 
race, are engaged in a struggle against the Germans. The prin 
ciple of nationality urges them on, and this principle has little to 
do with race. 

The migrations of peoples in Europe in the Middle Ages show 
us tribes bound together for war-like undertakings, as for instance 
the Cimbrians, the Teutons, the Scythians, etc., etc. But, in a new 
environment these tribes were assimilated by the rest of the popu- 
lation. The invading race did not absorb the other, but a natural 
environment united both into one uniform group in accordance with 
the conditions of the environment. 



It was principally under the influence of Hegelianism that the 
theory of races was elaborated in Germany. In France this theory 
found its principal defender in Ernest Renan. In 1840 and espe- 
cially in 1848 the theory became dominant, not only because Ger- 
man politics put it at its service, but also and chiefly because it ac- 
corded with the national and patriotic spirit that stirred the nations, 
and with that tendency toward unity which characterised all the 
peoples of Europe. "It is necessary," they said, " that the State 
be national, that the nation be one, and that it comprehend all in- 
dividuals speaking the national language and belonging to the same 
race. Further, it was important that this national State reduce the 
heterogeneous elements, that is to say, the foreign. 1 When this 
theory had served its purpose and had almost completely disap- 
peared from the political field, it still remained in the scientific 
field. Even to-day, with a considerable number of authors, the so- 
cial element of the highest importance is that of race. Thus, for 
example, Morselli writes : "Even in the matter of suicides we find 
that the zone of frequency corresponds to countries inhabited by 
peoples differing in religion, culture, and in political constitution, 



J Cf. de Gobineau, Dinegalite des races, Paris, 1894; L. Gumplowicz, Der 
Rassenkampf, Gratz, 1883 ; Lazare, L'antisemitisme, Paris, 1895. 



382 THE MONIST. 

but kindred by race." 1 And Sergi declares that, " If we seek an ex- 
"planation of the origin of civilisation, and of the dominant Aryan 
"people, along the Mediterranean as well as in central Europe, we 
"shall find up to a few years ago, in the minds of all archaeolo- 
" gists, linguists, and anthropologists the conviction that Asia was 
"the unquestioned cradle of the one and the other. The centre 
"of dispersion of peoples and of civilisation, at least so far as the 
" primitive ideas of biblical origin are concerned, has been removed 
"from Mesopotamia to Hindoo Koosh, and Europe becomes an 
"Asiatic colony into which civilisation has been brought along 
"with its people.'' 2 

According to this view civilisation originated in Asia, the cradle 
of languages and of the Aryan people, the centre of dispersion of 
the European population. The European people in various groups 
and in successive times left the common Asiatic centre and estab- 
lished themselves in Europe in their various settlements, carrying 
with them a common patrimony of languages and civil and religious 
institutions. There were at first distinct groups, as for instance the 
Italo-Greeks, the Celts, the Letto-Slavs, the Germans, all of which 
had formerly belonged to the Indo-Iranian people the Asiatic 
group. The Aryans are supposed to have invaded Europe from 
the east and the west, from the north and the south. 

Thus even from the first civilisation was supposed to be due to 
the superiority of a single race. This race, according to the view 
here outlined, was the Germanic, and civilisation, including the 
Greek and Roman, to say nothing of the other successive civilisa- 
tions, was due to Germanic invasions. Huxley declares that even 
in historic times the area occupied by the fair races with elongated 
skulls and speaking the Aryan language, was at least for a time 
continuous from the northern sea coast to central Asia. 

It is a fact, however, that the Germanic type is not encountered 
in any of these regions except in a very limited number. The chief 



J E. Morselli, // suicidio, Milano, 1879, p. 158. 

2 G. Sergi, Origins e diffusi6ne della stirpe delta Mediterranea, Roma, 1895, 
p. 3 ; Isaac Taylor, Origin of the Aryans, French translation, Paris, 1895. 



THE CONFLICT OF RACES, CLASSES, AND SOCIETIES. 383. 

characteristics of the Germanic type have always been recognised 
as fair complexion, tall stature, blue eyes, and elongated skulls. 
The purest example of this type is found in southern Scandinavia. 
Now the contents of numerous graves in Scandinavia show that, so 
far as archaeology has investigated the so-called neolithic age, the 
great majority of inhabitants had the same structure, and the same 
cranial peculiarities as at present. Near the graves of men of this 
tall race, fair and with long skulls, are found men with wide skulls, 
that is, with skulls of a greater width, often much greater, some- 
times four-fifths of the length. This fact was indeed recognised 
by Professor Huxley, who, as we have just seen, was deluded by 
the mirage of the Indo-Germanic theory. He writes that in what- 
ever direction we traverse the interior of continental Europe now 
occupied by a fair race with elongated skulls, let it be through the 
Southwest, southern France, across the provinces of Belgium into 
eastern France, in Switzerland, in southern Germany, in Tyrol, or 
to the northeast into Poland and Russia, or north into Finland and 
Lapland, wide skulls appear frequently among the elongated. We 
find among persons who typically have wide skulls, as for instance 
the Swedes and the Germans, those with elongated skulls. As a 
general rule in France, in Belgium, in Switzerland, and in southern 
Germany the increase in the number of wide skulls is accompanied 
by the appearance of an always increasing proportion of men of 
dark complexion and low stature. Even in central France and from 
that point toward the east among the CeVennes and the Alps of 
Dauphine, of Savoy and of Tremont, to the western plains of north 
ern Italy, the tall, fair race, with elongated skulls practically dis- 
appears and is replaced by a dark race with wide skulls. 1 But this 
mixed type, which Huxley recognises among people which more 
particularly inhabit the so-called basin of the Mediterranean, must 
also be recognised among the Germans. Several years ago a Ger- 
man writer, Dr. Welcher, more impartial than some of his kinsmen 
have shown themselves in this question, wrote : "The modern 
Germans are in part brachycephalic, in part artocephalic, never 

^Nineteenth Century, 1890. 



384 THE MONIST. 

dolichocephalic"; and he continues: "If the primitive Germanic 
people were dolichocephalic, it must be said that an insignificant 
number of modern Germans of Germanic stock are found to-day in 
Germany." 1 As to color, in all the German empire, according to 
the statistics of Virchow, the fair are on the average 31.8 per cent, 
the dark 14.05 per cent., while the mixed type reaches 54.15 per 
cent. In northern Germany itself the number of persons with dark 
complexions varies from 12.1 per cent, to 6.9 per cent. A really 
genuine fair race, then, does not exist. If the primitive Aryans 
were all fair, as the advocates of the Germanic theory maintain, it 
must be recognised that instead of having imposed their civilisation 
on all Europe, they have been the conquered race. Posche, one 
of the most rabid advocates of the Germanic theory, writes: "The 
ancient, fair, Indo-Germanic people attacked the Finns, overcame 
them, and carried away tens of thousands of them as prisoners, re- 
duced them to slavery, and little by little incorporated them." 2 So, 
according to Posche, Penka, Huxley, and others, the fair, purely 
Germanic race, came into Greece and Italy, conquered the primi- 
tive dark races and gave to them the Aryan language and civilisa- 
tion. Thus Huxley writes: "The ancient Thracians were proverb- 
ially a people with blue eyes and fair hair. Fair people were common 
among the ancient Greeks, who were a people with elongated 
skulls.'' 8 On the other hand, Sergi has. shown very clearly that "in 
Homer no divinity is fair in the ethnographic signification of the 
term. Only Achilles and Rhadamanthus can be considered fair." 4 
If civilisation was truly born with a fair race, why did it not de- 
velop in Germany? This question, obvious as it is, does not seem 
to have presented itself to the mind of the Indo-Germanic theorists. 
And yet Taylor 5 considers this as one of the principal reasons which 
may be advanced against the pretended Asiatic origin of the Ary- 



1 See besides the volume of Sergi already cited, Welcher, Ueber Wachsthum und 
Bau des menschlichen Schddels, Leipzig, 1862, p. 65; Moschen, "I caratteri fisici 
e le origini dei trentini " in the Archivio per L! Antr apologia, Florence, 1892. 

2 Th. Posche, Die Arier, Jena, 1878; L. Penka, Die Herkunft der Arier, 
Vienna, 1886. 

3 Huxley, op. dt. 4 G. Sergi, op. cit. 6 I. Taylor, op. dt. 



THE CONFLICT OF RACES, CLASSES, AND SOCIETIES. 385 

ans. He says that if the Aryans originated in Asia, how comes it 
that they developed their civilisation in Europe? This question was 
also proposed earlier by Latham. 

Since the evidences of a fair race diminish from north to south, 
it seems that to develop the various civilisations it must have made 
a leap, not only into the valley of the Euphrates and the Tigris, 
and into the valley of the Nile, but also into Greece and Rome. 
Now, no legend of any of these peoples attributes the rise of civili 
sation to a northern divinity. Only one legend of this kind, so far 
as the writer knows, exists. That was found among the people of 
Chili at the time of its discovery. But unfortunately for the de- 
fenders of the Indo-Germanic theory, this legend does not serve in 
any way to substantiate that theory. Schopenhauer said : " Scratch 
a German, and you discover a metaphysician," but so far as this 
theory is concerned, it is not even necessary to scratch it. Its true 
nature is visible on the surface. It is pure theory unsupported by 

facts. 

n. 

Race is the name of a subdivision of one of those groups of 
living beings which, in the technical language of Zoology and 
Botany, is called a species, and the term denotes the possession of 
characteristics distinct from those of other members of the species, 
which have a strong tendency to manifest themselves in the pro- 
geny of all the members of the race. These characteristics of race 
may be physical or intellectual, but in practice the latter, being less 
susceptible of observation and of definition, can rarely be seized 
upon and examined. Now, it is a fact that while we frequently 
speak of race and define what we mean by it, yet in practice it is 
almost absolutely impossible to make any distinction that will hold. 
The only element at all reliable which presents itself for anthropo- 
logical classification is the form of the skull. As to color, it varies 
widely among the same people. The same may be said of stature. 
If language is taken as the basis of classification, the results ob- 
tained are even less trustworthy. 

We continually hear of the Israelitish race. It is spoken of as 
the most homogeneous of races, and the most refractory. But it is 



386 THE MONIST. 

strongly diverse. Anthropologists are accustomed to divide it into 
two parts well distinguished the dolichocephalic and the brachy- 
cephalic. To the first type belong the Sephardim Jews, the Span- 
ish and Portuguese Jews, even the larger part of the Jews of Italy 
and southern France. To the second belong the Askenazim Jews, 
that is to say, the Polish Russian, and German Jews. 1 In Africa 
we find agricultural and nomadic Jews allied to the Kabyles and to 
the Berbers near Setif, from Guelma, and Biskra to the frontiers of 
Morocco. They travel in caravans to Timbuctoo, and some of their 
tribes upon the confines of the Sahara are black, 2 as for instance 
the Daggatomis, as are also the Falachas Jews of Abyssinia. 3 In 
India white Jews are found in Bombay, and black Jews in Cochin. 
As to the Jews in China, they are not only allied to the Chinese who 
surround them, but they have even adopted their customs and the 
religion of Confucius. 4 It is well known that in Italy they speak 
Italian, as in France they speak French, and in Germany German. 
A language is learned and spoken by two peoples which have no 
other point of contact. 

If the cranial form is taken as the basis of classification, the 
results are no better. Thus Sergi sees in the population along the 
Mediterranean, a race quite distinct from all others, with cranial 
features quite unique. But the principal cranial forms along the 
Mediterranean are at least ten, and besides there is a great number 
with differences more or less marked. The latter being found less 
frequently than the former, the famous anthropologist considers 
them foreign to the race, or the result of crossing. But it is evi- 
dent that this classification is too generic, not being based upon a 
single cranial form, and it becomes still more so with this crossing. 

The fact is there are true and real lines of continuity between 
one race and another, so that a precise classification is not possible. 
Even if this anthropological classification were exact, it could not 
have any sociological importance. For no well-determined causal 

1 C. Lombroso, L'antiseniitismo, Turin, 1894; Lazare, op. cit., 
2 Mardochee Aby Serour, Les Daggatomis, Paris, 1880. 

3 Cf. d'Abbadie, Nouvelles annales des voyages, 1845, Vol. III.; Lazare, op. cit. 
4 E. Schwartz, Le peuple de dieu en Chine, Strassburg, 1880. 



THE CONFLICT OF RACES, CLASSES, AND SOCIETIES. 387 

relation has yet been shown between the form of the skull and the 
intellectual development of individuals. Not only this, but of two 
peoples belonging to the same ethnographic branch one makes enor- 
mous progress, while the other remains stationary, as for instance 
the Chinese and the Japanese. The Japanese ethnographically 
belong to the same race as the Chinese. They have assimilated, it 
is true, a few small foreign groups, but these are of too little im- 
portance to be regarded as the true cause of the modification of the 
Japanese character. While we have seen the Chinese struggling 
bitterly against European civilisation, the Japanese with an enviable 
eagerness have sought to assimilate as much of it as possible. The 
English waited two years before accepting the metric system, but 
the Japanese accepted it as soon as they understood its utility. An 
enormous waste of time, a true gaspillage, was produced by the use 
of their alphabet. In spite of their intense national spirit, strength- 
ened by recent victories, they have already decided to abandon it 
for the European. The Germans even yet hold to their caligraphy, 
and wish to continue it. Only in commerce has it begun to fall 
into disuse. The Kabyles, in northern Africa, are a people as ener- 
getic and industrious as the Tonareg are obstinately nomadic. 
Nevertheless the Tonareg and the Kabyles belong to the same race, 
and speak almost the same language. 1 

At the end of the fourteenth century could anybody in the 
world have predicted the commercial and industrial development 
which has since taken place in England? At that time it was a 
people of peasants and of soldiers who had shown their bravery in 
the Hundred Years' War. Originally the English not only had no 
inclination toward commerce, but were sluggish and preferred to 
remain in their villages. Even now they call a voyage, travel, and 
to make a voyage has become to travel, in consideration no doubt 
of the trouble which a voyage gave them, and the effort required 
to make it. 2 



J N. Schirmer, Sahara, Chap. XIV.; G. Brissier, L'Afrique romaine, Ch. IV. 

2 A. Marshall, Principles of Economics, Vol. I., Bk. i, Chap. 3.; F. S. Nitti, 
// Lavoro % p. 9. 



388 THE MONIST. 

We may affirm that the intellectual development of an ethno- 
graphic race is not only very diverse, but is modified and devel- 
oped by causes quite foreign to the action of other races. The as- 
sumption then, as the anthropologists almost unanimously affirm, 
that European civilisation has come from one race, is entirely gratui- 
tous. Our historic memory covers so small a space of time that we 
can obtain from it very small assistance. Even in a period so re- 
cent as 1500 years before Christ, northern Eurasia lay in historic 
darkness, with the exception of a ray of light thrown upon it by 
Egyptian and Babylonian literature. The many interesting discov- 
eries brought to light by the extended researches of the last ten 
years into the primitive history of the human race has placed be- 
yond doubt one important fact (a fact for a long time probable on 
account of other reasons) that the existence of the human race 
reaches back at least twenty thousand years. Haeckel, a compe- 
tent authority, although he frequently makes very bold assertions, 
thinks that the existence of the human race reaches back to more 
than a hundred thousand years. 1 As it may have been many hun- 
dreds of thousands of years, it appears comical that even to-day our 
calendar places the creation of the world, according to Calvitius at 
five thousand eight hundred years ago. In any case, man lived as 
such in Europe during the diluvial epoch along with many great 
mammals long since extinct as for instance the diluvial elephant 
or mammoth (Elephas primige nius) , the woolly rhinoceros (Rhino- 
ceros tichorhinus}, the gigantic deer (Cervus enrycenros), the cave 
bear ( Ursus spelceus} the cave hyena {Hyena spelaa), the cave tiger 
(Felis spelaa), etc. The results obtained from putting in the light 
of modern geology and archaeology the fossil remains of men of the 
diluvial age and of contemporaneous animals are of the highest in- 
terest. 2 The theory of a centre of diffusion of the human race is 
not only hypothetical, but unscientific. Yet into this grave contra- 



1 E. Haeckel, Schb'pfungsgeschichte, Italian translation, ed. 1892, Ch. 20. 

2 Cf. C. Lyell, The Geological Evidences of the Antiquity of Man, London, 
1869 ; J. Lubbock, Prehistoric Times, Italian translation, Turin, 1878 ; L. Buchner, 
Der Mensch und seine Stellung in der Natur, Leipzig, 1872 ; P. Topinard, L?anthro- 
pologie, Paris, 1888. 



THE CONFLICT OF RACES, CLASSES, AND SOCIETIES. 389 

diction Haeckel himself falls. While he recognises the ancient or- 
igin of the human race, he imagines a special country called by the 
English writer Schrader, Lemuria, which he thinks must have been 
the centre of the dispersion of the various human races. Lemuria 
was a continent at the south of Asia, which has long since dis- 
appeared. 

As gratuitous as the theory just criticised seems to me also 
that of my illustrious friend, Professor Sergi of the University of 
Rome. He admits a race and a civilisation in the basin of the Med- 
iterranean, which arose independently of any foreign influence what- 
ever, eastern or northern. He distinguishes in this locality four 
principal and complex branches the Iberians, Ligurians, Pelas- 
gians, and Libyans. The centre of dispersion of this race he thinks 
was central Africa. While he declares that the cranial form has 
not varied from its original form, he does not tell us why in the 
same place four branches of a single race have originated, and not 
one only. He admits that the clear brown of the Egyptians was 
always such, and not a bleaching of the dark brown of the Africans. 

But whence comes the much clearer skin of the Mediterranean 
peoples? The Pelasgians, for example, might have been an ante- 
rior mixed population like the occidental Gauls and the Britons be- 
fore the Teutonic invasion. 

Professor Otto Helm in the accurate researches which he has 
carried on for more than twelve years, has collected from eastern 
Prussia many objects made of bronze and other alloys of copper and 
belonging to a very ancient prehistoric epoch. Chemical analysis 
shows that these objects contain 3.87 per cent, of antimony, but the 
bronzes of Hungary are the only ones in which this metal is found 
in that proportion. Then with Helm we must conclude that the 
prehistoric bronzes of eastern Prussia are of Hungarian origin. 
On the other hand, in Hungary many objects made of yellow amber 
have been found. These must necessarily have been imported from 
the Baltic. These facts, with other numerous evidences, lead us to 
the conclusion that relations must have existed even from the most 
ancient times between the inhabitants of the shores of the Black 
Sea, the Adriatic Sea, and the Baltic. These relations were en- 



390 THE MON1ST. 

couraged by the presence of the Vistula, but who is able to say 
with scientific seriousness that the people of these three regions 
were one, and that they went into foreign countries to exchange 
those objects which we now find scattered. 

The same observation may be made in regard to the distribu- 
tion of skulls in the different regions. Sergi has found in the skulls 
of the Museum of Mona the Mediterranean forms and the forms of 
Egypt and Ethiopia, and writes : "I saw again the beautiful pen- 
tagonal forms, the elliptical and the ovoidal forms with those char- 
acters peculiar to the Mediterranean, and I saw the secondary forms 
which are mingled with the first from the remotest times in the var- 
ious migrations of peoples, and from this fact I had the conviction, 
which I here repeat, that the first colonies came from southern 
Russia to the Mediterranean." 1 Sergi does not consider the opin- 
ion of Schrader, who reaches a conclusion directly opposite to his 
own, to be of any value. Schrader holds that the seat of the prim- 
itive Aryan people was European Russia. 2 So the region which 
according to Sergi is the limit of the diffusion of the Mediterranean 
race is according to Schrader the beginning of it. We may then 
conclude that one can never say with certainty whether people with 
a given cranial form are the invaders or the conquered. 3 

The zoologic process according to Darwin is imagined as a 
tree. He shows how the many branches of this tree appear, in- 
crease in size, and remain, but his doctrine does not go beyond the 
roots, nor does it reach above the branches. This is true as it is 
applied to the human races. Even in pushing our investigations 
to the remotest prehistoric epochs we find diverse races in contact 

1 Sergi, op. cit., p. 87. 

2 Schrader, Prehistoric Antiquities of the Aryan Peoples, translated by Jevons, 
London, 1870. 

8 Sergi starts out with the following assumption: " Wherever a race-stock is 
found always predominating, there should be found the hearthstone of civilisation. 
On the other hand, wherever is found a race-stock with its physical characteristics 
and its products in the midst of other race-stocks later become predominant, there 
should be found transformations and super -positions of racestocks and of products." 
Now, this law cannot be depended upon. Novicow (Les luttes entre societes hu- 
maines, Paris, 1894) finds many facts which contradict it. Some of these I have 
pointed out in a pamphlet on La question sicilienne en Italie, Paris, 1895. 



THE CONFLICT OF RACES, CLASSES, AND SOCIETIES. 391 

with each other without its being possible to make any precise dis- 
tinction, and without our being able to attribute civilisation to one 
race rather than to another. France has had periods of great pros- 
perity, and these have alternated with those of decadence, but Al- 
fred Fouill^e 1 has shown that the true historic tradition of this 
country remained constant even when Gaul became France. 

In Europe the Italians occupied a position more elevated than 
the Spaniards, but this is not the case in Argentina, in spite of the 
fact that the Italians there number 892,992, while the number of 
the Spaniards is only 254,527. The Spaniards of Argentina are 
superior also to the French, who number 145,785 ; and it is the 
prior emigration of the Spaniards, a fact entirely fortuitous, that 
decided the social economic direction of Argentina, in spite of the 
fact that the French and Italian races are superior to the Spanish. 

The civilisations of different peoples are developed almost 
without any relation to their race. Civilisation passed from the 
south to the north in Europe without having caused any displace- 
ment of races. If one should attribute the fall of the Roman Em- 
pire to invasions of a few tens of thousands of savages, one attri- 
butes too great an effect to so small a cause. The decay of the 
Roman Empire began long before the influence of any foreign race 
was exerted. In the fourteenth century Venice was the greatest 
commercial city in Europe. Now it has become a port of the fifth 
rank. The port of Venice is not sufficiently deep for modern ships, 
and commerce has taken another direction. All this has had little 
to do with race. 

The social phenomenon of civilisation is almost completely in- 
dependent of the anthropological phenomenon of race. At least up 
to date no serious relation scientifically tenable has been established 
between these two phenomena. 

in. 

It is said by some that the human constitution is less passive 
and plastic than it used to be (Peschel, Meyer, Hellwald, Waitz). 

1 A. Fouillee, L'idee moderne Ju droit, Paris, p. 76. 



3Q2 THE MONIST. 

Since we are completely ignorant of the original race stock, that 
assertion is absolutely gratuitous. Others maintain that the tend- 
ency to unity is caused by historic and social factors, 1 but we shall 
soon see that the action of these is opposed to unit)'. 

The actual current which is carrying us towards international 
unity is not independent of the immense variety of physical environ- 
ment which is assisting to-day in the formation of new races. In 
the United States one may observe the process of the modification 
of the Anglo-Saxon character. Out of the difficulties of colonial 
life and the struggle with primitive nature a new type has been 
born, and yet the relations between England and the United States 
are very close. A large English emigration crosses the Atlantic 
every year and spreads itself over the Union. If Montesquieu had 
been questioned in regard to this fact, he would probably have re- 
sponded with the phrase with which he begins the book which cost 
him twenty years of thought and elaboration, "Laws in their most 
extended signification are necessary relations derived from the na- 
ture of things. In this sense all beings have their laws." 2 He 
would make the same reply to those who should ask why Italy and 
Spain are agricultural while England occupies the first rank in the 
metal industries. There are natural laws which make the difference 
between an Englishman and an Italian or a Spaniard. There is in 
Ausner 8 a table of statistics of criminality by sexes in nineteen of 
the most important countries of Europe. "Wherever industry and 
commerce predominate, criminality among women sensibly in- 
creases." By heredity this criminality becomes a characteristic of 
a new race, and so with all other physical and moral characteristics. 
In this way is formed, to use the expression of M. Le Bon, ' ' an 
Historic Race." 4 

It is easy to understand that the sociological value of an his- 

J N. Colajanni, Sociologia Criminate, Vol. II., p. 286. On this subject see my 
work on La question sicilienne et Italie, p. 45 et seq. 

2 Montesquieu, Esprit des lois, Ch. i. 

3 Ausner, Vergleichende Statistik von Europa, Berlin, 1865. 

4 G. Le Bon, Les lois psychologiques de revolution des peuples, Paris, 1894, pp. 
45-52. 



THE CONFLICT OF RACES, CLASSES, AND SOCIETIES. 393 

toric race is entirely different from that of a true ethnographic race 
in its anthropological signification. This much is clear, the natural 
conditions of the environment exercise upon individuals more or 
less influence. Adaptation to environment is one of the principal 
supports of the Darwinian theory. But this theory does not carry 
with it the idea that among historic races there has been a conflict. 

What are the conditions of the natural environment which de- 
velop identical conditions in the individuals which inhabit it ? It is 
absolutely impossible to say in what one natural environment differs 
from another. The natural environment is constituted by a com- 
plexity of circumstances, some apparent, others imperceptible, of 
which it is impossible to declare what the effects will be. 

Ferdinand Gregorovius on the 2nd of October 1870 writes from 
Karlsruhe of the tremendous impression which Strassburg made 
upon him. He is carried away by the magnificent view from the 
top of the Cathedral. "From this point," says he, "one may see 
that Alsace naturally belongs to Germany, for the Rhine melts 
away in the distance without making any natural boundary. Along 
its banks are the Vosges and the Black Forest." 1 Now, this state- 
ment of Gregorovius is simply absurd. What is the visible indica- 
tion of a termination of the natural conditions of Germany and the 
beginning of the French territory? He does not say, and I could 
not undertake to do so without making myself appear ridiculous. 

The various natural environments form a gradation that never 
makes a leap nor leaves a hiatus, and it is just so with populations. 
In Scotland we hear of Highlanders and Lowlanders, that is, in- 
habitants of the Highlands and inhabitants of the Lowlands, but 
who will say that they constitute two quite distinct social types? 
On the contrary, the line of continuity is perfect. As a general 
principle, therefore, we may affirm that peoples inhabiting con- 
tiguous regions and yet presenting quite different ethnographic 
characteristics are quite rare. 

Fouillee is right when he says, "The falsifiers of history, so 
numerous beyond the Rhine, have represented as a struggle of races 

1 F. Gregorovius, Diari Romani, 1895, p. 454. 



394 THE MONIST. 

the fratricidal war of France and Germany, two countries really 
alike in ethnic composition." 1 

The same thing has been done with the wars between the 
French and the Italians. The following table shows the increase 
of foreigners in France : 

ALIENS OF ALL NATIONALITIES 



YEAR 


NATIVE FRENCH 


NATURALISED 


NUMBER 


PER CEI 


1851 


35,388,814 


13.525 


379,289 


1. 06 


1861 


36,864,673 


15.259 


509.381 


1-35 


1866 


37-415.283 


16,286 


655.036 


1.72 


1872 


35-346,695 


15.303 


740,688 


2.03 


1876 


36,069,524 


34-510 


801,754 


2.17 


1881 


26,327,154 


77,046 


1,001,090 


2.64 


1886 


36,700,342 


103,886 


1,126,531 


2.97 


1891 


36,832,470 


170,704 


1,130,211 


2-97 



In the last census of the French population, the Italians num- 
bered about three hundred thousand. Now could it be asserted that 
the violence exercised by the French laborers against the Italian 
laborers was an illustration of a struggle of races? That would be 
a false assertion. The French laborer is frequently suspicious of 
the Italians solely because they are willing to accept a smaller wage 
and therefore increase competition. Now if we are to take the fact 
that the laborers of the one race are contented with a lower wage 
than those of the other as a distinction, I do not know what is meant 
by race. 

A similar phenomenon may be observed among laborers of the 
same race in the usual sense of the word. In the case of a strike, 
it does not matter whether it is declared for an increase in salary or 
to prevent its diminution, whether it is desired to prevent a scaling 
of wages, or to secure an increase, all the laborers are not likely to 
be of one opinion. Some will accept lower wages, or do without 
the increase, being almost indifferent to the result. These laborers 
may refuse to take part in the strike and may wish to remain at 
work. Who is not familiar with the tyranny of striking laborers 



J A. Fouillee, " Le caractere des races humaines et 1'avenir de la race blanche " 
in the Revue des deux mondes July, 1895. 



THE CONFLICT OF RACES, CLASSES, AND SOCIETIES. 395 

against those who are disposed to work? Must we therefore con- 
clude that they belong to a different race? 

In the Middle Ages the Israelites clothed themselves in a spe- 
cial color, in general yellow, but the Christians in forcing them to 
do this never thought of race distinctions. They simply satisfied 
their religious prejudices. There are many cases of conversions of 
large numbers of the Israelites. All the Israelites of Braine, of 
Tartose, and of Clermont were converted about the same time 
through the efforts of Avitus. Vincenzo Ferrero baptised twenty- 
five thousand of them at once. After the Council of Toledo, which 
prohibited mixed marriages, many of the Israelites were converted. 
With the change of their religion, the persecution of the Christians 
ceased? Must we then conclude that they changed also their race? 
How absurd ! The entire dress which the Israelites wore in the 
Middle Ages was due to a spirit of exclusiveness, a spirit of false 
Chauvinism, which the Christian persecutions gave rise to. These 
artificial distinctions were used in the absence of any real difference 
between the races. 

Language, like religion, is a distinction of quite secondary 
ethnological importance. After an individual has remained a long 
time in a country, he usually learns its language and its customs. 
And yet the Italian colony in France is made up chiefly of emigrants 
more or less transient who scarcely ever learn to speak the language 
of the country they inhabit. But the Italian laborers are contented 
with very low wages. They, therefore, compete with French labor- 
ers and thus tend to lower their wages. But in Austria where there 
are, according to the last census, about forty-six thousand Italians, 
almost all laborers, 1 the wages of the Austrian laborer are no higher 
than those of the Italian, hence between the two there arises no 
serious competition. There is, however, the same difference of 
language. In France the union of native laborers against the Ital- 
ian is not on account of any antagonism of race, but solely an eco- 
nomic phenomenon. The same thing does not happen in Austria 
because there is no antagonism. In France the Italian language 

1 Cf., Le monde economique, July 28, 1895. 



396 THE MONIST. 

has become almost a mark of distinction of the laborers accepting 
a low wage. "In India," says Ibbetson, "similarity of food is em- 
ployed as an exterior sign of community of blood." 1 Now, what 
would be said of an ethnographic classification of Indian races based 
upon eating ? Language is no better, for it is only an external char- 
acteristic of no intellectual or physiological importance. If it were 
taken as the principal distinction of the various races, it would have 
to be admitted that the people who speak the modern Romance 
languages are not Latin, but that would be absurd. Frederick 
Miiller, taking language as the distinguishing feature of human 
races, is not able in his ethnography to avoid a classification en- 
tirely empirical. He forgets that an inferior people may learn a 
language, and history shows abundant incidents of the transmission 
of language from one race to another. "There is no proof," says 
Huxley, "for asserting the incapacity of a race to substitute another 
language for its own. Physical, moral, and mental peculiarities 
are transmitted with blood and not with language. In the United 
States the negroes have spoken English for generations, but nobody 
would call them English, or expect to find them different physically, 
mentally, or morally from other negroes." 2 

By the foregoing illustrations we see how various are the dis- 
tinctions made by different authors between the races : the color of 
the skin, form of the skull, religion, language, even a cross-section 
of the hair. If this section is oval in one individual, and in an- 
other round, lo ! the two individuals belong to two different races. 

Now, if the characteristics of race are so uncertain, how can 
we say that there has been a conflict of races? The expression 
"conflict of races" implies that all individuals belonging to the 
same race are united, or at least cohere for reacting against those 
of another group, that is of another race. Laumonier writes : "Six 
or seven races have united to form the French nationality, as many 



1 Cf., E. Seuart, " Les castes dans 1'Inde" in the Revue des deux mondes, Sept. 
15, 1891. 

2 Cf. on this point the work of Huxley already cited, Taylor (Origin of the Ary- 
ans, London, 1890), and the Pall Mall Gazette, January, 1870. 



THE CONFLICT OF RACES, CLASSES, AND SOCIETIES. 397 

the German, more yet the Italian." 1 And Novicow says: " There 
is not a single country in the world which has been peopled by one 
race autochthonous and pure." 2 Sergi says : "I have found in va- 
rious parts of Italy skulls so small, although normal in anatomical 
constitution, that I have called them microcephalous. I found the 
same in Malaysia, among the Kurgani in Russia, and in ancient 
cemeteries, and among the skulls along the Mediterranean which 
are said to be those of the Phoenicians. The types or forms of these 
craniums are very different from those of the people who form the 
main race-stock, and frequently present marks of inferiority of struc- 
ture. Many, even all, that I measured and considered as belonging 
to the pigmy stock were inferior in cranial capacity to the Negrito 
or Oriental pigmies. The study of the population of Italy in regard 
to stature confirms my investigations concerning the existence of a 
pigmy population, a fact also supported by the small capacity of 
some skulls. I find that in the male population of twenty years of 
age there are 1.63 per cent, from 1.25 meters to 1.45 meters, and 
14.49 per cent, from 1.25 meters to 1.55 meters. Taking the whole 
population male and female, estimated at 30,000,000, we have meas- 
uring 1.25 meters to 1.45 meters, 978.000 pigmies, male and female ; 
1.25 meters to 1.55 meters, 4,347,000, an enormous number out 
of a population of 3O,ooo,ooo. 3 Now, it is a fact of great importance 
that a race which in respect to another is not only physiologically 
and intellectually inferior, but inferior also in numbers, is able to 
live and prosper alongside of it. Then what becomes of this theory 
of the conflict of races? If, after so many centuries, it has not af- 
fected the selection of an inferior race, that means that even if races 
do exist, a conflict of races does not. 



1 Laumonier, La nationalite franfaisf, Paris, 1889, p. 53. 

2 J. Novicow, Les lultes entre societes humaities, Paris, 1890, p. 241. 

" Unity is lacking, races have been divided, scattered, mingled, crossed in vari- 
ous proportions, and in every direction, through many centuries. The principal 
groups have disappeared, their places have been taken, not by races, but by peo- 
ples." P. Topinard, op. clt. 

3 G. Sergi, op. cit., p. 90; " Le varieta humaine" in the Atte della sociftd Ro- 
mana d" Antropologia, 1893. 



THE MONIST. 



IV. 

Malon thinks he recognises in a strike one of the gravest mani- 
festations of the conflict of classes. Well, on the 25th of August, 
the political journals of Paris published the following telegram : 
"The related industries have united with the striking glass-blowers 
"of Carmaux. Workmen in the industries related to glass-blowing 
"have pledged themselves not to resume work until the glass-blow- 
ers are taken back. They have thus united themselves into a 
"single body comprising twelve hundred men. The strike quietly 
" continues, and will be maintained while the strikers receive assist- 
"ance. This has been voted by several councils, general and 
"municipal." On the same day the following telegram was sent 
from Pisa : " The women weavers of the Nissim factory have struck, 
"making common cause with a clerk of the establishment. The 
"clerk was aggrieved on account of the fact that privileges which 
"he thought due to him were withheld, etc." These two strikes 
taken at random perfectly illustrate what we wish to show. Notice 
that at Carmaux the strikers were at first a single class, namely, the 
glass-blowers. These were joined by the workmen of related in- 
dustries. At Pisa the strike was begun by a clerk. 

It is well known that the land-holders, especially in Germany, 
are strengthened by the support of the peasants. The land-holders 
persuade these poor people that a rise in the tariff on foreign cereals 
brings with it a rise in their wages, and so the proprietors and the 
peasants unite to obtain privileges in favor of agriculture. These 
have to struggle with another class, namely the manufacturers, 
whose interests are frequently opposed to .those of the land-holders. 
But these two classes unite in a conflict with a third class, namely 
the consumers, who do not wish to be despoiled by any advantage 
gained by the other two. Thus it may be seen that often the same 
individual at the same time is engaged in the struggle of two dif- 
ferent classes. Indeed the chief characteristic of modern social 
classes is their unstable composition. 

In the Middle Ages classes were firmly established. Individ- 



THE CONFLICT OF RACES, CLASSES, AND SOCIETIES. 399 

uals practising the same profession formed a well-defined corpora- 
tion. Each member knew his rights and duties. Not only that, 
but the transmission of a profession from father to son was made 
with greater regularity than it is to-day. In addition to the exces- 
sive favors accorded to some of these corporations whereby they 
were able to despoil all below them, they were useful to their mem- 
bers. The market being limited, the need of a regular production 
was rendered necessary. This in fact was always fixed. Thus the 
corporation obtained a perfect regularity in economic production, 
and served a purpose. 

On account of a complexity of circumstances which has enor- 
mously developed the economic market and economic production, 
the utility of the classes and corporations of earlier times has dis- 
appeared. When in modern times they attempt to reconstitute 
themselves their true scope is social spoliation. That which indi- 
viduals acting alone cannot obtain they attempt to secure by united 
effort and by the force of numbers. 

The following may serve as an example. The Midland miners 
in England some time ago, threatened a great strike. Lord Rose- 
bery intervened, and formed a council presided over by Lord 
Stand, by which it was sought to bring the miners and the employ- 
ers into accord. As a result, the minimum of wages was raised 
thirty per cent, over the wages of 1888. Mr. Emerson Bainbridge, 
President of the Company at Unstone, who works among others 
the mines of Drousfield in Yorkshire, had to close up these mines. 
By the increase of salary which he was obliged to give to his work- 
men, his profits, already low in the mining industry, were converted 
into a loss. Mr. Emerson Bainbridge would never have consented 
freely to an increase in the wages of his workmen because he simply 
could not do so. He was forced to it by the union of the workmen, 
with the result that the work itself was stopped. The pretended 
conflict of classes is then an effort to secure by the brute force of 
numbers that which single individuals acting freely could not ob- 
tain. This, beyond a doubt, is illegal and unjust. If X goes to Y 
and demands his pocket-book, Y will certainly refuse to give it up. 
Then X proposes to K, to L, etc., that they unite with him in de- 



400 THE MONIST. 

manding the pocket-book of Y. Y, now being confronted by sev- 
eral persons can no longer refuse as he did before, and consequently 
surrenders his property. Now the association of X, K, L, etc., to 
secure the pocket-book of Y, we call an association of robbers. By 
the brute force of numbers they secure that which individually they 
could not have obtained. It is just the same in this pretended con- 
flict of classes. A certain number of laborers unite to secure higher 
wages, which the condition of the market will not allow, and which 
otherwise acting freely they could not obtain. Sometimes they 
unite to impede the work of women, even those belonging to the 
same class, because they are laborers. I have recently seen that 
in Rome the carpenters, in order to prevent the employment of 
laborers from a neighboring city who enter into competition with 
them, have formed an association. Even this has the bare-faced 
effrontery to call itself a conflict of classes. Conflict of classes is 
an expression which is meant to signify collective action which 
tends to repair certain social injustices. It is very clear, however, 
that under this name attempts are made to commit the gravest so- 
cial wrongs. 

v. 

The individual strives to obtain the greatest possible amount 
of wealth. His welfare depends upon the satisfaction of his needs, 
which satisfaction is procured by that which generically is called 
wealth, or goods. Individual actions are exerted to obtain the 
greatest possible quantity of wealth in order to satisfy the greatest 
possible number of needs. By the capture of women the family 
was constituted, first under the polygamic form, then after a slow 
evolution under the monogamic. The primitive bond of the familv, 
Novicow concludes with Starcke, issues from the right of property. 1 
To the same effect Giraud-Teuton writes : "Love between father 
"and child appears to be a conquest of civilisation, rather than a 
"permanent phenomenon of the natural history of the human race, 
"and the sentiment of paternity destined to become so elevated 

l ]. Novicow, op. cit., p. 71; C. N. Starcke, La famille primitive, Paris, 1891, 
p. 271 ; Westermarck, Les origines du mariage humaine, French translation, 1895. 



THE CONFLICT OF RACES, CLASSES, AND SOCIETIES. 40! 

"had an interesting origin. The first relations between father 
"and son that one remarks among barbarous peoples are those of 
" master and slave. Their relations are not determined by reciprocal 
"love, nor by conscious ethnic principles, but only by the move- 
"ment of selfish interest, and they rest chiefly upon brute force or 
"physical superiority." 1 Even to-day among the lower classes, is 
not a male child, on account of his being more profitable as a la- 
borer, preferred to a female? Among the higher classes, a son is 
eagerly desired on account of the "pride of name." This pride of 
name as well as the economic materialism of the less prosperous 
classes which causes them to prefer the male child to the female, 
are manifestations under different forms of that early egoism which 
determined the formation of the family. 

The social institution of the family, like everything else which 
continues to exist, is explained by a reason essentially utilitarian. 2 
This much is clear : If man had not always been essentially selfish, 
the human species could not have survived. For man selfishness 
is a duty arising from the law of individual preservation. Human 
selfishness looks out for number one, but it has undergone a con- 
tinuous evolution. From blind selfishness, truly animal, which sees 
in things only their immediate utility, man has passed to a selfish- 
ness more and more refined and clear-sighted, so that immediate 
utility is frequently sacrificed in favor of a superior deferred utility. 

So then if society instead of being useful for the preservation 
of the individual had been disadvantageous, it would never have 
existed. Unconsciously the individual has conformed to society in 
order to satisfy in the best manner his needs. 

The idea of Wallace, who supposes that human evolution has 
followed a mysterious direction exercised by a superior intelligence 
by means of agencies more subtile than any with which we are ac- 
quainted, is perfectly silly. 3 Morselli justly and acutely observes 

1 Giraud-Teuton, Les origines du mariage et de la famille, Paris, 1884, p. 432; 
G. Vadata-Papale, Inconscio e conscio net processo evolutivo della vita sociale e del 
diritto, Bologna, 1895, P- 4^- 

2 See especially Spencer's Principles of Sociology. 

3 A. R. Wallace, Essay on Natural Selection, London, 1889 ; Darwinism, Lon- 
don, 1889. 



4O2 THE MON1ST. 

that Wallace is a convinced Spiritualist, and that his hypothesis is 
far removed from the scientific sphere. But this is not the place to 
discuss it, even if it were thought worthy of examination. 1 

The same may be said of the theory of Hartmann. It is an 
unscientific hypothesis, an attempt to explain facts not by other 
facts and laws, but by mysterious, unverifiable and inefficient 
causes. For what is the use of an unheeding deity to govern the 
world and human society, if the actions of individuals and their 
mutual relations to their environment are sufficient to explain every- 
thing. 2 Individuals in relation to the environment in which they 
live, seek to appropriate from it the greatest possible quantity of 
energy. For this purpose they unite their efforts in various ways 
and thus determine that enormous complexity of relations which are 
called social. 

Social relations find their basis and their raison d'etre in the in- 
dividual, but when individualism is pushed to the extreme of Max 
Stirner, of Frederic Nietzsche, or R. Schellwein it is unsustain- 
able. tt fch singe, weil ich ein Stinger bin. Euch aber gebrauche ich da- 
her, weil ich Ohren brauche. Ich hatf mein Sach' auf Nichts gestellt." 
Or as another writer says : "The ego, the single existing individual 
man, is the only thing. Outside of myself, there is nothing. The 
ego, as religion affirms of deity, is inexpressible, and it is perfect 
since it is at every moment all that it can be. More it cannot be, 
nor has it need of being. Every other being or thing is my property 
in so far as I have the power to appropriate it, and in so far as I 
wish it." Now this is blind individualism. 

As a matter of fact, the individual finds it useful to associate 
his efforts with those of other individuals in order that he may ob- 
tain in the labor of production a greater quantity of goods. The 
comfort of the Parisian as contrasted with the poverty of the Hotten- 
tot or the Kaffir is due precisely to a complicated series of associa- 
tions of effort, and to the division of labor, both of which have been 



J E. Morselli, L'antr apologia, Turin, 1889-1895, p. 399. 

2 Cf. A. Fouill^e, La science sociale contemporaitte, Paris, 1880, p. 198; G. Va- 
data-Papale, op. cit. t p. 8. 






THE CONFLICT OF RACES, CLASSES, AND SOCIETIES. 403 

slowly developing. How many victims are scattered along the 
highway of social progress ! How many times this way has been 
missed, and how many efforts have been made before finding it ! 
All this labor, inconceivable on account of the number of centuries 
it has been carried on, has had one single motive in its unwearying 
and unceasing application the need of increasing individual wel- 
fare. If all this labor had been due to a single individual, or even 
to a single family-stock which had continued through the centuries, 
the present result could never have been obtained. Modern civil- 
isation would never have begun. 

But people have been in contact with each other from the re- 
motest epochs. In this contact one people has taken from another 
the useful knowledge which it had discovered, and vice versa. By 
other people there has been a continual storing up of useful knowl- 
edge, so that their amount has always been increasing. The civil- 
isation and the welfare of every people is in direct proportion to its 
quantity of useful knowledge. 

Now the civilisation which arose along the Mediterranean was 
not in fact due to this or to that race. It was a result of natural 
geographic conditions. Sergi recognises this when he writes, "The 
Mediterranean was not only a European Sea. The waters of Eu- 
rope, Asia, and Africa united to form it, and were the channel of 
communication and of contact between the three continents of the 
ancient world." 1 "The superiority of the white race," says Sereix, 
following Quatrefages, "is an arbitrary dogma." 2 If it had not oc- 
cupied the basin of the Mediterranean and united in itself all the 
useful knowledge which belonged to the three continents of an* 
tiquity, the white race would never have been able to give to the 
world the cosmopolitan civilisation which it has given. That is, it 
could not have given that civilisation which has been the mother of 
all others, even our own. This is aside from the influence which 
natural conditions have exercised upon the character of individuals. 

1 G. Sergi, op. cit., p. 41. 

2 Rafael Alvarez Sereix, Fechos prehistoricas y Porvcnir de las Razos, Madrid, 
1895. In this book the influence of geographic conditions on the development of 
civilisation is very well set forth. 



404 THE MONIST. 

Why is the German more of an idealist than the inhabitants of the 
Mediterranean basin? If we exclude the different influences which 
the conditions of a natural environment exercised upon the develop- 
ment of the two characters, I do not know where we should go to 
find any other cause. 

Grossi is in accord with Courtenay in writing that the modern 
character of the South American is a result of the mixture of the 
European and the Indian character, with a predominance of the 
apathy of the latter. 1 That is very true, and it is quite natural. In- 
dian apathy can only be explained by climatic conditions. Now can 
it be admitted that these climatic conditions have exercised no in- 
fluence upon the immigrants of South America? There are three 
factors, the character of the Indians, the superiority of the Euro- 
peans, and the climatic conditions favorable to a persistence of the 
Indian character. The combined result of these factors is a change 
in character with a predominance of the Indian. 

So the climatic and meteorological conditions of the Mediter- 
ranean basin developed a character in individuals which moved 
them to feel a lively need of increasing their own welfare. 2 The ex- 
planation of this is to be found in the temperate climate, fertility of 
the soil, and the abundant production. On leaving this favored 
locality, the deserts of Libya and Syria are encountered, or other re- 
gions considered in ancient times inhospitable, as for instance Scy- 
thia and the centre of Europe. Even the Euxine sea-coast was 
called by the ancient Romans inhospitable with respect to Italy in 
which the centre of its great civilisation was not the valley of the 
Po, but the central and southern region. The same was true of 
Greece. Philosophy and the Arts did not flourish in Macedonia. 3 

The very fact of living in contact with other people develops 
in individuals the needs which they see others satisfying. Here we 

1 Courtenay de Kalb, "The Social and Political Development of the South 
American People " in the Bulletin of the American Geographical Society, 1894, pp. 
131 ; V. Grossi, Geografia Mediea e Colonie, Rome, 1895, p. 35. 

2 To say of a people that it is very religious and speculative, holding obstinately 
to tradition, is to say that it is singularly insensible to the joys of action and to the 
solicitations of material progress. Cf., E. Seuart, art. cit., p. 339. 

3 Cf., Sergi, op. cit., p. 42. 



THE CONFLICT OF RACES, CLASSES, AND SOCIETIES. 405 

have a splendid illustration of the law of imitation. 1 We see this 
action even in our own day. The city develops more needs in the 
individual than the country. That is easily understood. In the city 
every individual sees others satisfying a greater or less number of 
needs which have not yet been felt by him. Sooner or later they 
begin to develop in himself. Needs first arise in a limited number 
of individuals, a sort of elite, and then according to the law of imi- 
tation are propagated. 

In the city a very strange phenomenon appears. Among manu- 
facturers a need second to none is that of making a profit upon the 
products of manufacture, and that this profit be as great as possible. 
So, in endeavoring to satisfy this need, they invent new articles, 
perfect those already invented, and thus foster a public need for 
them. Many articles are made even before the need for them arises. 
A new need always arises out of the necessity of the individual, and 
is then propagated in accordance with the law of imitation. 

But even the spirit of imitation is not sufficient to produce a 
need when it conflicts with utility. The present writer, for instance, 
neither smokes nor drinks wine. Here are two needs very much 
felt in modern society, which in him are negatived by utility. 
Doubtless he would smoke if cigarettes did not annoy him, or drink 
wine if it satisfied a need. In his case the idea of utility is stronger 
than the spirit of imitation, and there is no fear that the contrary 
could ever be true. 

In general, no one feigns a need who surfers by doing so. True, 
it sometimes happens on account of strong collective suggestion, 
but only in pathological individuals, and for a short period of time. 
This, however, is of slight importance. Nothing is more feared by 
men than death, and yet not a few individuals kill themselves, and 
eagerly await the moment for doing so. The papers often speak of 
young people crossed in love who meet death together. From what 
these persons write after they resolve to die, it appears that they 
look forward to the day of their death with as much eagerness as if 
it were their wedding day. 

1 Cf. the works of Tarde, especially Les his de limitation, Paris, ed. 1895. 



406 THE MONIST. 

What Castellar writes in regard to Spain, may be said in regard 
to all other countries. He writes: "The Spanish people may be 
divided in a general way into two extreme divisions. First, the cit- 
ies, for the most part progressive and almost Republican ; second, 
the rural districts, which, owing to the fixity of the daily laborer, he 
being attached to the soil like a vegetable, as well as to the worship 
of tradition, are very conservative and reactionary. Every city, on 
account of its progressive spirit, looks toward the future, but the 
country, with this spirit of fixity, remains faithful to tradition." 1 
This much is plain : if it were possible to put these peasants in con- 
tact with new political and social ideas, as it is in the cities, no dif- 
ference would be found between the two populations. As it is with 
political and social ideas, so is it with all progressive ideas, eco- 
nomic, moral, etc. 

The soldiers of Cromwell had to be stationed at Aberdeen be- 
fore the inhabitants could learn how to plant cabbages and to make 
shoes. 2 Just as only a few of the plants and animals found in a 
civilised country are indigenous, so it is with scientific and indus- 
trial discoveries. The majority of them are due to the fact of their 
having been imported. The more individuals are brought in con- 
tact with each other, the more their needs are stimulated and their 
ideas exchanged, which things taken together urge them to new 
steps on the highway of social progress. 

The United States are rich and highly civilised, not on account 
of a predominant race, but because their population is a mixture of 
all the nationalities of the world. Individuals who emigrate carry 
with them a certain amount of useful knowledge, of which others 
are ignorant. So the United States have appropriated more than 
any other country the scientific discoveries of the races of the world. 
These discoveries brought together give rise to others. According 
to Edison the United States contain one hundred and fifty real in- 
ventors who increase the wealth of the country from five hundred 

1 E. Castellar, "La Politique Espagnole" in the Revue Poiitique et Parlemen- 
taire, 1895, p. 227. 

J Cf., Ch. de Colan, "Les lowlanders et 1'histoire d'Ecosse" in Science Sociale, 
neuvieme livraison, 1895, p. 254. 



THE CONFLICT OF RACES, CLASSES, AND SOCIETIES. 407 

million to a milliard of francs per year. 1 Agriculture was more ad- 
vanced in France under Henry IV. and Louis XIV. than in Eng- 
land. The English learned manufacturing from Flanders, and 
availed themselves of the experience of Portugal, Holland, and 
France, in colonisation and navigation. They brought together in 
their own country the greatest socio-economic conquests made by 
other countries, and these constituted the natural basis for further 
advances. The results are well known. 

In China many discoveries, among them the most important 
which have determined European civilisation, were made before 
they were made by the white race. But they were not completed. 
It is competition, struggle, developing among individuals through 
the spirit of emulation exerted to increase individual happiness, 
which produces the advance of civilisation. Social progress is the 
sum of individual advances. 

Individuals associate in various ways for the purpose of in- 
creasing their own welfare by appropriating natural forces in the 
best possible way, but when a group of individuals unites not to 
avail itself of natural forces, but to appropriate what other individ- 
uals have obtained, this association becomes anti-social, injurious 
to general welfare, and in the interest of all it should be suppressed. 
Such associations begin in th6 form of those called by the specific 
name, robbers, pass to coalitions of laborers and manufacturers, 
and end in such undertakings as those of the Panama Company in 
France, and the Italian organisation of bankers. The latter are as 
damaging to the development of social prosperity as an association 
of genuine robbers, disturbing social welfare and tending to destroy 
it. Being alike, their punishment, from the social point of view, 
ought to be the same. 

VI. 

If, instead of comparing the intellectuality of the colored race 
with that which the white race has acquired, it were possible to 
take the intellectual development of the white race many years ago, 

1 Cf . J. Novicow, Les gaspillages dans les societes modernes, Paris, 1894, p. 69. 



408 THE M ON I ST. 

when the social-economic system was at the same level with that of 
the real colored races, I am convinced that many of the illusions in 
regard to the superiority of the white race would be destroyed. The 
truth is that certain nations belonging to the white race and called 
superior, have founded civilisations much inferior to the civilisation 
of the yellow race, or even of the black. There is no people be- 
longing to a race originally superior. There are nations which 
under certain conditions have established empires more powerful, and 
civilisation more durable than those of other races. 1 

This much is clear : The white peoples have gradually reached 
a certain degree of civilisation. This civilisation is characterised 
by intellectual development. Physical force has remained constant. 
A Hottentot has perhaps greater physical strength than a Parisian, 
but can it be admitted that the superior intellectual power of the 
European was of sudden birth? This is not admissible, because 
civilisation which is its reflex, has progressed slowly, sometimes 
receded, through long periods of time. The intelligence of the 
white race is, I repeat, a product of development. 

The famous theory of cranial capacity has had many denials. 
However, it may be affirmed that in general the cranial capacity of 
the whites is somewhat greater than that of the colored races. The 
average cranial capacity of the Indo-European is said to be 1,534 
grams, that of the African negro, 1,371 grams, that of the Austra- 
lian, 1,228 grams. But, even if we admit an intimate relation be- 
tween the development of the cranial capacity and social progress, 
that is by no means to admit that the Indo-European has passed 
suddenly from a low grade of intelligence to that which he possesses 
to-day. The intellectual conquests which have produced the white 
man have been gradual and slow. The results of these conquests 
are consolidated in the human brain. This is due to the well known 
law of heredity, which is one of the chief supports of the theory of 
evolution. 

No white child has ever been born with a greater intellectual 



1 Leon Metchnikoff , La civilisation et les grands fleuves, Paris, 1889 ; B. Lazare, 
op. cit. 



THE CONFLICT OF RACES, CLASSES, AND SOCIETIES. 409 

development than that of a negro child. Flechsig, who will be 
recognised as an authority, declares that a new-born child, espe- 
cially if its birth has been premature, when the nervous fibres of 
the brain are almost completely deprived of myelin is exactly like 
one of the lower animals. 1 Man, in a state of nature, says Fouille"e, 
is like a child, a sensitive, impulsive being. 2 And yet the psycho- 
logical aptitudes of the child born to civilised parents are enor- 
mously greater than those of a savage child. Exaggerating this 
fact, Mismer writes : " The child of an uncultivated race is obliged 
to learn everything, while the child of the civilised race has only 
to remember." 8 It is then absurd to expect that a colored man, 
brought into a civilised society of whites, should find himself com- 
pletely adapted to his social environment and proceed to contribute 
to new scientific discoveries. Not only the psychical but even the 
physiological superiority of the white man has been slowly ac- 
quired. 

It is due chiefly to the fact that owing to the geographical po- 
sition which the white man occupies, he is compelled continually 
to struggle with other men. On the other hand, the colored race 
contend chiefly against their natural environment. The white man, 
brought into contact with other societies, develops his power of 
adaptation to social environment, and that is possible only by the 
aid of psychic development. But the colored man learns how to 
adapt himself to his natural environment in a manner truly won- 
derful. Thus the Boschimans, often exposed to the pangs of thirst 
learn how to discover the presence of water far under ground. 
Lying down they detect afar off the rising vapor which to other 
eyes is imperceptible. The Esquimaux, unacquainted with the use 
of fire, in order to warm themselves go into a hut of snow. The 
circulation of the blood becomes there more active than under their 
thick and heavy clothes. These people pass from a high degree of 

1 Paul Flechsig, Gehirn und Seele, Leipzig, 1895, and the Revue gtnerale des 
sciences pures et appliquees, 1895, p. 790. 

2 A. Fouillee, op. cit., p. 81. 

3 Mismer, Le monde musulman. Souvenirs de la Martinique et du Mexique pen- 
dant r invasion franfaise, Paris, Sandoz. 



4-IO THE MONIST. 

corpulency to a pitiable thinness, according as food is abundant 
or scarce. The European to-day could never adapt himself to such 
an uncertain diet. However, in a prehistoric epoch, when his in- 
tellectual rank was much lower, he was compelled to undergo the 
alternation of more and less abundant natural production. These 
so-called human races are different, because they have undergone 
different conditions of natural environment, because the competition 
and the contact between societies and individuals have been differ- 
ent. Wherever there is lacking to a race a true social competition, 
the intellectual rank is lowered. That does not mean that it could 
not advance if it were placed in the same condition of life as the 
white race. 

Pearson, Le Bon, and others, ask in dismay: "How shall we 
stop this flood of colored races which threatens to engulf the white 
States P" 1 and Fouille"e with no less fear remarks : "A colored pop- 
ulation doubles in forty years. In China alone there are already 
four hundred millions. About the middle of the next century there 
will be eight hundred millions." 2 So these authors are in accord in 
proposing a great European league of the civilised races for resist- 
ing by force the rising tide of colored races. Anything more mean- 
spirited could not be suggested. We, being separately deficient in 
physical force and the force of numbers, propose to unite and bring 
on a struggle with the colored races, availing ourselves of our united 
superiority. But this is hardly worth considering, for such a pre- 
caution would be no precaution at all. With this federation of civil- 
ised races we propose to keep the colored races in their own coun- 
tries. Very well, but will this prevent their increasing rapidly, 
whatever their condition may be? Then when they have reached 
an enormous number, much greater than at present, what is to pre- 
vent this vast and savage population from falling upon the civilised 
world and destroying it? To day this is not a real danger, but it 

1 Pearson, National Life and Character, London, 1893 ; G. Le Bon, Les civili- 
sations de flnde, Paris, 1890. 

8 It may be noted incidentally that these calculations have no scientific value 
whatever. Variations in population cannot be foreseen, especially in countries poor 
and uncivilised. 



THE CONFLICT OF RACES, CLASSES, AND SOCIETIES. 4! I 

may become a reality. If the whites are superior to the colored 
races, it is with this superiority that they must conquer. 

Let us now see what would be the result if the white races 
should attempt to assimilate the colored. It would certainly result 
in a betterment of the economic condition of the latter. Now it is 
a fact ascertained demographically and shown in the splendid works 
of Levasseur, Cheysson, Messedaglia, Spencer, and others, that the 
birth-rate of a people is in inverse ratio to its economic welfare. In 
proportion as the latter increases, the birth-rate diminishes. The 
colored races brought into contact with the whites ought, therefore, 
to diminish their actual birth-rate. 

Qualenno has written that the colored immigrants in the United 
States are diminishing. This is not true, they are increasing. But 
it is true that proportionally their increase is inferior to that of the 
rest of the population. This fact is proved by the data of the last 
census. See then to what the much feared prolificacy of the colored 
races reduces itself when they are brought into contact with the 
whites. The colored races which are quite uncivilised cannot resist 
the whites in the social competition. The Oceanic race, confronted 
by the European, melts from sight. The Indians of America are di- 
minishing in number every day, in spite of the protection afforded 
by the English Government and by that of the United States. In 
the Sandwich Islands, Cook, about the end of the last century, 
found a population of three hundred thousand. To-day there are 
only forty thousand. 

Even if in Europe immigration were left perfectly free to the 
colored race, it will diminish in number, and will be unable to re- 
sist our social competition. This is the opinion expressed by Elise 
Reclus. 

The Chinese gradually, and perhaps less rapidly than the Jap- 
anese, are assimilating many European discoveries. Consequently, 
the commerce of China, in spite of war and the devastations caused 
by cyclones in the South, and the pest at Canton and Shanghai, is 
gradually increasing. The duties collected on imports amounting 
to 122,500,000 hiahram taels (a tael equals 4 125.) have reached 
an excess over those of 1893 of more than half a million. The ex- 



412 THE MONIST. 

ports have increased from 116,600,000 to 128,100,000. These in- 
clude cotton, black tea, tea in bricks, raw white silk, oil, furs, and 
wool. And the Chinese are increasing prodigiously the importation 
of machinery as rapidly as the government removes the restrictions. 
With the increasing competition between individuals, the standard 
of life of this people has been considerably modified. This fact is 
increasing their intellectual development. 

That which is improperly called a race is never an ethnological 
unit, but an historical, intellectual, or moral unit. It is so of the 
Chinese, of the Japanese, and of other colored races. In contact 
with European life, these races are visibly modified. When they 
enter the numerous relations of exchange with civilised people, that 
means that general welfare will be increased. The natural energies 
of the globe will be better utilised for humanity than they are now. 
Various human associations are formed for increasing the comfort 
of individuals, and for rendering labor more productive. 

Why should the colored races be the declared enemies of the 
whites, or vice versa? Does this increase their welfare or their 
wealth? Not in the least. On the contrary, it diminishes it. "Evil," 
says Bentham, "in the last analysis, of whatever kind it may be, is 
pain or loss of pleasure." 1 Then why should not these people unite 
in order to aid each other in the labor of production ? Is the color 
of skin an impediment? 

The Chinese emigrate willingly to the United States. In the 
last few years they have formed a colony of 100,000 individuals. 
These Chinese go to the United States because they find it profit- 
able to do so. If the proprietors of manufactories employ them, 
that means that they find their labor useful. One fine day the gov- 
ernment at Washington restricts the immigration of the Chinese. 
It has yielded to a coalition of laborers, which, as we have seen, is 
the negation of all sense of justice. Such action on the part of the 
Government at Washington surely does not increase the welfare 
or the wealth of the United States, and it opens the way for the 
same restrictions against the Italians and all other immigrants who 

] J. Bentham, Works, French translation, Brussels, 1842, Vol. I., p. 262. 



THE CONFLICT OF RACES, CLASSES, AND SOCIETIES. 413 

will accept a low wage. Some time it may reach the stage of for- 
bidding all immigration, to which the United States owes its great- 
ness. How their prosperity would be diminished by such an act, 
or by any other social-economic exclusiveness ! It would diminish 
the welfare of the very ones who think they would be benefited. 

See how Chinese exclusiveness has condemned that people to 
continuous poverty. Men are not born to fight each other, and to 
rob their neighbors. Let this be done by barbarous people who do 
not know how to work. People who have arrived at a certain degree 
of mental development know that the true source of social welfare 
is the production of wealth obtained by means of labor. Now the 
productivity of labor is enormously increased by association, and 
by the assistance of the discoveries of science. If the white people 
should give direction to the labor of the colored races, the welfare 
of both will be increased, and in the long run all the differences 
and prejudice of the different races will disappear. 

To-day a good is mistaken for an evil. A colored laborer offers 
his work for a low wage. Is it not true that so far as the white race 
is concerned this is just so much gain? When the intellectual de- 
velopment of a colored laborer has increased and he demands a 
higher salary, perhaps this question may be looked at in a different 
way. 

The conflict of races, of societies, of classes, etc., is only a 
manifestation of the spirit of exclusiveness. Individuals instead of 
working and associating their labor for increasing their welfare, 
contend against each other. They are deluded into thinking that 
the spoliation of others and the transforming of themselves into 
parasites increases their welfare. These antagonisms of races, of 
societies, of classes, in reality are attempts to transform themselves 
into parasites or to react against social parasitism. 

The Roumanians struggle against the Magyars because they 
are despoiled by them in a most shameful manner. The southern 
States of the North American union wished to separate from the 
northern for the same reason. This parasitism would never have 
produced the loss of sixty-two milliards, which is the sum at which 
the damages occasioned by the War of Secession are estimated. 



414 THE MON1ST. 

The spirit of exclusiveness finds its natural basis in ignorance, 
in blind individualism. The cautious human egoist sees that the 
only source of welfare and of wealth is labor, and for two individ- 
uals who find it profitable to work together in order to increase 
their mutual welfare, diversity of race, of color, of form of the head, 
of nationality or social class, constitute no impediment. If all men 
are once convinced of this truth then the spirit of exclusiveness will 
disappear. Then in sociology the question of the origin of races 
and of civilisations will no longer command the same interest as 
to-day. 

G. FIAMINGO. 
ROME. 



THE MYTHOLOGY OF BUDDHISM. 

TTJUDDHISM is of all religions the most elaborate as a system of 
U thought. It offers a complete philosophy, which is an out- 
spoken positivism with decidedly anti-metaphysical tendencies. It 
propounds a psychology which is worked out in its most important 
details, and is quite up to date. Its morality possesses a definite 
method, showing upon philosophical principles the baselessness of 
hatred and proclaiming the maxim of universal love ; and, in addi- 
tion to all this, Buddhism has developed an exuberant mythology. 

PURE BUDDHISM. 

Buddhism is the religion of salvation through enlightenment, 
and its tenets are briefly summed up in the four noble truths. 

The first noble truth is the recognition of the existence of suf- 
fering, as an intrinsic and not merely accidental feature of life. 

The second noble truth states that the origin of suffering is the 
craving or clinging that clamors for the gratification of desire ; it is 
the pursuit of pleasure, the yearning for the Vanity Fair of life, the 
lust of the senses, and the infatuation of all selfish conceits. 

The third noble truth is devoted to the emancipation from suf- 
fering by a radical abandonment of craving. It teaches that salva- 
tion is obtained by cutting off the thought of self and all its ego- 
tistic yearnings. 

The fourth noble truth points out the way to emancipation, 
which consists of (i) right comprehension ; (2) right aspirations ; 
(3) right speech ; (4) right conduct ; (5) right living ; (6) right 
endeavor ; (7) right self-discipline ; and (8) the attainment of the 
right bliss. 



416 THE MONIST. 

The word " right " is purposely repeated to emphasise that not 
every aspiration or endeavor, however well meant, can lead to 
emancipation, but only the right one, only that one which is based 
upon a true conception of the nature of existence and the imper- 
manence of all compound things. There is nothing in the world 
that deserves attachment, for nothing is lasting, not even the great 
world-systems, not even the gods. Man himself is not permanent, 
and his soul does not consist of a permanent and immutable self or 
an atman, as the Brahmans call it. Every man in his individual 
existence is the summed-up result of the deeds done in this and in 
former lives. His character consists in, and is determined by, his 
deeds, and according to his deeds his character will endure in after 
life. 

Yet while the individual incarnation, being a material com- 
pound, is not permanent, man can attain to that which is perma- 
nent ; and the permanent, the indestructible, the deathless is, in a 
word, called Bodhi. Bodhi is enlightenment ; it is the attainment of 
truth ; it is the recognition of that which is eternal. He who attains 
to enlightenment has become an incarnation of the Bodhi ; he has 
become a Buddha and has reached Nirvana, the state of immor- 
tality, the highest bliss, in which all craving and all attachment 
to anything impermanent, has ceased. 

This is, in brief outline, the sum total of the Buddhist doc- 
trine, which has been realised in the lives of many Buddhist saints, 
worked out in detail by Buddhist scholars, popularised by poets in 
Jataka tales and mythological descriptions, and represented by art- 
ists in sculpture and in painting. 

MARA, THE EVIL ONE. 

The many-sidedness of Buddhism is well illustrated in the 
Buddhistic conception of evil and of a final escape from evil, which 
is taught to the thinker in the shape of a philosophy, and to the un- 
educated masses in the garb of a poetical myth, affording the artist 
a good opportunity for representing deep thoughts in allegorical 
form. 



THE MYTHOLOGY OF BUDDHISM. 417 

Evil is personified in Mara, the Buddhist Devil, who repre- 
sents temptation, sin, and death, while the final escape from evil, 
the nirvanic conditions of mortals who are humbler than Buddha 
himself, found expression in the belief that all good Buddhists 
would be reborn in the Western Paradise. 

Mara is identified with Namuche, one of the wicked demons in 
Indian mythology with whom Indra struggles. Namuche is the 
mischievous spirit who prevents rain and produces drought. The 
name Namuche means "not letting go the waters." However, In- 
dra, the god of thunder-storms, forces him to surrender the fertilis- 
ing liquids and restores the life-bringing element to the earth. 

Mara is also called Papiyan 1 the Wicked One or the Evil 
One, the Murderer, the Tempter, in addition he is said to be Varsa- 
varti, 2 meaning "he who fulfils desires." Varsavarti, indeed, is one 
of his favorite names. In his capacity as Varsavarti, Mara personi- 
fies the fulfilment of desire or the triple thirst, 3 viz., the thirst for 
existence, the thirst for pleasure, the thirst for power. He is the 
king of the Heaven of sensual delight. 

There is a deep truth in this conception of Mara as Varsavarti. 
It means that the selfishness of man is Satan an r the actual satis- 
faction of selfishness is Hell. 

This reminds us of one of Leander's Mdrchen, in which we are 
told that once a man died and awoke in the other world. There St. 
Peter appeared before him and asked him what he wanted. He then 
ordered breakfast, the daily papers, and all the comforts he was ac- 
customed to in life, and this kind of life lasted for many centuries 
until he got sick of it and began to swear at St. Peter and to com- 
plain of how monotonous it was in Heaver*, whereupon St. Peter 
informed him that he was in Hell, for Hell is where everybody has 



l Pdpiydn means "more or very wicked;" it is the comparative form of the 
Sanskrit pdpin, wicked. 

^Varsavarti is Sanskrit. The Pali form is Vasavatti, derived from vasa, wish, 
desire. Childers explains the word as "bringing into subjection." Mara is also 
called Paranimmita Vasavatti, which means " bringing into subjection that which 
is created by others." 

3 Pali, tanJitl; Sanskrit, /n's/imi. 



4 i8 



THE MOM- I. 



his own sweet will, and Heaven is where everybody follows God's 
will alone. 

In the Dhammapada, Mara is not so much a person as a per- 
sonification. The allegorical nature of the Evil One is plainly felt 

in every passage in which Mara's 
name occurs. We read, for in- 
stance : 

" He who lives looking for pleasures 
only, his senses uncontrolled, immoderate 
in his food, idle and weak, him Mira will 
certainly overthrow as the wind throws 
down a feeble tree." 

Buddhist artists employed at 
the same time, as symbols of evil, 
all those mythological personages 
who, to the minds of the Indian 
people, represent sensuality, cru- 
elty, and destruction. Lakshmi, 
the goddess of beauty, who, ac- 
cording to the Mahabhavata, orig- 
inated like Aphrodite, from the 
froth of the ocean, remained the 
ideal of womanhood and conjugal 
love, while Kali, the goddess of 
the hundred names, represented 
the ruthless cruelty of nature's 
laws. 

Kali is, in spite of her horri- 
ble appearance, one of the greatest 
goddesses of India, who is wor- 
shipped among the Hindus even 
to-day under various names and forms. As the consort of Shiva she 
is called Parvati, the blessed mother ; as^Durga (which means ' ' hard 
to go through ") she symbolises all kinds of danger and is regarded 
as the goddess of war. As Kali she is identified with time, the all- 
devourer, and is pictured as enjoying destruction, perdition, and 




LAKSHMI, THE GODDES OF BEAUTY. 
(Musee Guiinet.) 



THE MYTHOLOGY OF BUDDHISM. 



419 



murder in any form, trampling under foot even her own husband. 
There is scarcely a village without a temple devoted to her, and 
her images can be seen in thousands of forms. Her appearance is 




KALI. 
After an Indian picture. (Reproduced from Schlagintweit.) 

pleasant only as Parvati, in all other shapes she is frightful, and we 
can perfectly well understand that among Buddhists her divinity 
changed into the awful features of a demon of evil. 



420 



THE MOM> I . 



MARA, THE ENEMY OF BUDDHA. 

In the life of Buddha, Mara plays an important part. He is 
that principle which forms an obstacle to the attainment of Bud- 
dhahood. Having told how, in the sight of the great renunciation, 




DURGA. 

Indian sculpture. (Reproduced from Schlagintvveit.) 

the deity of the gate opened it to let the future Buddha out, the 
Jataka continues : 

"At that moment Mara came there with the intention of stopping the Bodisat ; 
and standing in the air, he exclaimed, ' Depart not, O my lord ! in seven days from 



THE MYTHOLOGY OF BUDDHISM. 421 

now the wheel of empire will appear, and will make you sovereign over the four 
continents and the two thousand adjacent isles. Stop, O my lord ! " 

When Buddha, in his search for enlightenment, had tried for 
seven years to find the right i>ath in asceticism and self-mortifica- 
tion, his health began to give way and he was shrunken like a with- 
ered branch. At this moment Mara drew near and suggested to him 
the thought of giving up his search for enlightenment. We read in 
the Padhana Sutta 1 : 

"Came Namuche speaking words full of compassion: 'Thou art lean, ill- 
favored, death is in thy neighborhood. Living life, O thou Venerable One, is bet- 
ter ! Living, thou wilt be able to do good works. Difficult is the way of exertion, 
difficult to pass, difficult to enter upon.' 

"To Mara, thus speaking, Bhagavat said: 'O thou friend of the indolent, 
thou wicked one, for what purpose hast thou come here ? Even the least good 
work is of no use to me, and what good works are required ought Mara to tell? I 
have faith and power ; and understanding is found in me. While thus exerting 
myself, why do you ask me to live? While the flesh is wasting away the mind 
grows more tranquil, and my attention, understanding, and meditation becomes 
more steadfast. Living thus, my mind does not look for sensual pleasures. Behold 
a being's purity ! 

" Lust thy first army is called ; discontent thy second ; thy third is called hun- 
ger and thirst ; thy fourth desire ; thy fifth is called sloth and drowsiness ; thy 
sixth cowardice ; thy seventh doubt \, thy eighth hypocrisy and stupor, gain, fame, 
honor, and what celebrity is falsely obtained by him who exalts himself and 
despises others. This, O Namuche, is thine, the Black One's fighting army. None 
but a hero conquers it, and whoever conquers it obtains joy. Woe upon life in 
this world ! Death in battle is better for me than that I should live defeated. 

" Seeing on all sides an army arrayed and Mara on his elephant, I am going 
out to do battle that he may not drive me from my place. This army of thine 
which the world of men and gods cannot conquer, I will crush with understanding, 
as one crushes an unbaked earthen pot with a stone. 

" Having made my thoughts subject to me and my attention firm, I shall wan- 
der about from kingdom to kingdom training disciples extensively. They will be 
zealous and energetic, obedient to the discipline of one free from lust, and they will 
go to the place where there is no mourning. 

"And Mara said : ' For seven years I followed Bhagavat, step by step, but 
found no fault in the Perfectly Enlightened and Thoughtful One.' " 



1 Sacred Books of the East, Vol. X., second part, pp. 69-71. 



422 THE MONIST. 

When Buddha went to the Bo-tree Mara, the Evil One, pro- 
posed to shake his resolution, either through the allurements of his 
daughter or by force. " He sounded the war cry and drew out for 
battle." The earth quaked, when Mara, mounted on his elephant, 
approached the Buddha. The gods, among them Sakka, the king 
of the Gods, and Brahma, tried to stay Mara's army, but none of 
them was able to stand his ground, and each fled straight before 
him. Buddha said : 

"'Here is this multitude exerting all their strength and power against me 
alone. My mother and father are not here, nor my brother, nor any other rela- 
tive. But I have these Ten Perfections, like old retainers long cherished at my 
board. It therefore behooves me to make the Ten Perfections my shield and my 
sword and to strike a blow with them that shall destroy this strong array.' And 
he remained sitting, and reflected on the Ten Perfections." Buddhism in Transla- 
tions. By H. C. Warren, pp. 77-78. 

Mara caused a whirlwind to blow, but in vain ; he caused a 
rain-storm to come in order to drown the Buddha, but not a drop 
wetted his robes ; he caused a shower of rocks to come down, but 
the rocks changed into bouquets ; he caused a shower of weapons 
swords, spears, and arrows to rush against him, but they be- 
came celestial flowers ; he caused a shower of live coals to come 
down from the sky, but they, too, fell down harmless. In the same 
way hot ashes, a shower of sand, and a shower of mud, were trans- 
muted into celestial ointments. At last he caused a darkness, but 
the darkness disappeared before Buddha as the night vanishes be- 
fore the sun. Mara shouted : " Siddhattha, arise from the seat. It 
does not belong to you. It belongs to me." Buddha replied : 
" Mara, you have not fulfilled the ten perfections. This seat does 
not belong to you, but to me, who have . fulfilled the ten perfec- 
tions." Mara denied Buddha's assertion and called upon his army 
as witnesses, while Buddha declared: "I have no animate wit- 
nesses present ; " but, stretching out his right hand towards the 
mighty earth, he said: "Will you bear me witness?" And the 
mighty earth thundered : "I bear you witness." And Mara's ele- 
phant fell upon its knees, and all the followers of Mara fled away 
in all directions. When the hosts of the gods saw the army of Mara 




Gandhara sculptures 



MARA'S ARMY. 
Museum of Lahore. (Reproduced from GrQnwedel.) 



424 THE MONIST. 

flee, they cried out : "Mara is defeated! Prince Siddhattha has 
conquered ! Let us celebrate the victory ! " 

When Buddha had attained enlightenment, Mara tempted him 
him once more saying i 1 

1 ' Pass away now, Lord, from existence ! Let the Blessed One now die ! Now 
is the time for the Blessed One to pass away ! " 

Buddha made reply as follows : 

"I shall not die, O Evil One ! until not only the brethren and sisters of the 
order, but also the lay-disciples of either sex shall have become true hearers, wise 
and well trained, ready and learned, versed in the Scriptures, fulfilling all the 
greater and the lesser duties, correct in life, walking according to the precepts, 
until they, having thus themselves learned the doctrine, shall be able to tell others 
of it, preach it, make it known, establish it, open it, minutely explain it and make 
it clear, until they, when others start vain doctrines, shall be able by the truth to 
vanquish and refute it, and so to spread the wonder-working truth abroad ! 

" I shall not die until this pure religion of mine shall have become successful, 
prosperous, wide-spread, and popular in all its full extent, until, in a word, it shall 
have been well proclaimed among men ! " 

Buddhist artists represent Mara always as present among the 
audience wherever Buddha preaches or teaches. When, shortly 
before Buddha's death, Mara repeated his words as quoted above, 
" Pass away now, Lord, from existence," Buddha answered : 

" Make thyself happy ; the final extinction of the Tathagata shall take place 
before long." 

MARA IN BUDDHIST ART. 

The development of art in India begins and ceases with the 
ascendancy of Buddhism. It covers about one thousand years, be- 
ginning with the third century before Christ and ending with the 
seventh century after Christ. The inscriptions of Ashoka belong 
to the oldest Indian monuments we possess, and in all Indian art 
we can trace the influence of the neighboring Persians and Greeks. 

The Gandhara Buddhistic art represented Buddha in all the 
various phases of his life, especially his birth, the attainment of 
Buddhahood under the bo-tree, and his entering into Nirvana. In 

1 See the Mahaparanibbana Sutta, III., 43-63, Sacred Books of the East, XI., 
p. 53, and The Gospel of Btiddha, Chap. 94, vv. 9 ff. 



THE MYTHOLOGY OF BUDDHISM. 425 

addition to these three turning-points in his life, he is represented as 
the teacher, and there are innumerable illustrations of the many par- 
ables and Jataka tales with which he adorned his doctrines. 




SCENES FROM BUDDHA'S LIFE. 
Gilndhfira sculptures. (Reproduced from Grunwedel.) 

In the various sculptures of Buddhistic art there is a figure 
holding in his hand a kind of double club or vajra i. e., thunder- 
bolt, as it is usually called. Since the expression of this man with 



426 



THE MONIST. 



the thunderbolt decidedly shows malevolence, the interpretation 
naturally suggested itself that he must be one of Buddha's disciples 
who was antagonistic to his teachings. The common explanation 
of this figure, accordingly, designated him as Devadatta, the Bud- 




SCENES FROM BUDDHA'S LlFE. 

Gandhara sculptures. (Reproduced from Grunwedel.) 

dhistic Judas Iscariot, who endeavored to found a sect of his own, 
and who according to Buddhistic legends is represented as an in- 
triguer bent on the murder of Buddha. The various representa- 
tions of this figure, however, are not altogether those of a disciple 
who tries to outdo Buddha in sternness and severity of discipline, 



THE MYTHOLOGY OF BUDDHISM. 



427 



but frequently bear the character of a Greek faun, and resemble, 
rather, Silenus, the foster-father of Bacchus, representing all kinds 
of excesses in carousing and other pleasures. Moreover, the same 
figure with the thunderbolt appears in representations of Buddha's 
entering Nirvana, at a time when Devadatta had been long dead. 
Alfred Griinwedel, for these reasons, proposes to abandon the tra- 




r 



BUDDHA, TEMPTED BY MARA'S DAUGHTERS. 
Gandhara sculptures. (Reproduced from Grunwedel.) 

ditional interpretation of the thunderbolt-bearer as Devadatta, and 
it appears that he has found the right interpretation when he says : x 

"This figure which accompanies Buddha from the moment he leaves his fa- 
ther's house until he enters Nirvana, and who waylays him in the hope of awak- 
ening in him a thought of lust or hatred or envy, who follows him like a shadow, 
can be no one but Mara Papiyan, the Wicked One, the demon of passion. The 
thunderbolt in Mara's hand is nothing but the old attribute of all Indian gods. In 
his capacity as the god of pleasure, Mara is especially entitled to this attribute of 
the Hindu gods. As Vasavatti he reigns in the highest domain of the pleasure 
heaven, surrounded by dancing girls and musicians." 

1 Buddhistische Kunst in Indien. Berlin : Spemann, p. 87. 



428 THE MONIST. 

It seems probable that the contrast in which Mara or Varsa- 
varti stands to the Buddha began by and by to be misunderstood. 
For the thunderbolt-bearer Vajrapani is gradually changed into a 
regular attendant of Buddha, and the Vajra, or thunderbolt, is now 
interpreted as an attribute of Buddha himself. Thus it happened 
that among the northern Buddhists the Vajra became the indis- 
pensable attribute of the lamas. It is called Dorje in Tibet and 
Ojir in Mongolia. 

The attack of Mara upon Buddha under the bo-tree is a favorite 
subject of Buddhist artists, who gladly avail themselves of this op- 
portunity to show their ingenuity in devising all kinds of beautiful 
and hideous shapes. Beautiful women represent the temptations 
of the daughters of Mara (see cut on page 427), and the hideous 
monsters describe the terrors of Mara's army (see cut on page 423). 

In Buddhistic mythology Mara, the Evil One, is, in harmony 
with the spirit of Buddha's teachings, represented as the Prince of 
the World. It is Mara who holds the wheel of life and death 
(Chavachakra, i. e., wheel of becoming) in his hands, for all living 
beings reside in the domain of death. The hand of death is upon 
every one who is born.* He is the ruler in the domains of the nida- 
nas, the twelve links of the chain of causation, or dependent orig- 
ination. 

In this conception Mara is represented as a powerful demon 
holding in his clutches the whole world of heaven, earth, and hell. 

THE TWELVE NIDANAS. 

1 The twelve nidanas are a very old doctrine, which possibly 
goes back to Buddha himself, and- m