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THE  MONIST 


A  QUARTERLY  MAGAZINE 


DEVOTED  TO  THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  SCIENCE 


VOLUME  XIX. 


CHICAGO 

THE  OPEN  COURT  PUBLISHING  COMPANV 
LONDON  AGENTS 

KEGAN  PAUL,  TRENCH,  TRUBNER  ft  CO.,  LTD. 
1909 


B 

i 

m 


COPYRIGHT  BY 

THE  OPEN  COURT  PUBLISHING  Co. 
1908-1909 


CONTENTS  OF  VOLUME  XIX. 

ARTICLES  AND  AUTHORS. 

PAGE 

Abnormal  Psychology,  A  Study  in.    By  Paul  Carus  148 

Akbar,  Emperor  of  India.    By  Richard  Garbe 161 

Amazing  Mazes,  Some.    A  Second  Curiosity.    By  C.  S.  S.  Peirce 36 

Archimedes,  A  Commentary  on  the  Heiberg  Manuscript  of.  By  D.  E.  Smith  225 

Archimedes,  A  Newly  Discovered  Treatise  of.    By  J.  L.  Heiberg 202 

Bagpipe  Not  a  Hebrew  Instrument,  The.    By  Phillips  Barry 459 

Barry,  Phillips.    The  Bagpipe  Not  a  Hebrew  Instrument  459 

Bel  the  Christ  of  Ancient  Times,  In  How  Far  Was  ?    By  Alan  S.  Hawkes- 

worth  309 

Billia,  Lorenzo  Michelangelo.     Has  the  Psychological  Laboratory  Proved 

Helpful?  35i 

Biochemical  Conception  of  the  Phenomena  of  Memory  and  Sensation,  A. 

By  T.  B.  Robertson   367 

Bussey,  W.   H.     Some  Remarks  on   Mr.   Russell's   Article,   "A   Modern 

Zeno"  407 

Carus,  Paul. 

Construction  of  the  Straight  Line  402 

Dr.  Edmund  Montgomery 631 

Esperanto,  Ilo  and  Malay 430 

A  German  Critic  of  Pragmatism  136 

James  on  Pluralism  and  Religion 317 

A  Letter  from  Professor  James  156 

The  Old  and  the  New  (In  Reply  to  Mr.  W.  E.  Ay  ton  Wilkinson) . .  468 

The  Philosophy  of  Personal  Equation   78 

A  Postscript  on  Pragmatism 85 

Prof.  John  Hibben  on  "The  Test  of  Pragmatism"     319 

Psychology  a  Domain  of  Its  Own  387 

A  Study  in  Abnormal  Psychology  148 

Choice  of  Facts,  The.     By  H.  Poincare  231 

Cornill,  C.  H.     Music  in  the  Old  Testament  240 

Couturat,  L.    Experience  de  double  traduction  en  langue  Internationale..  .  432 
Credulity,  Incredulity,  and  Immortality.    By  W.  E.  Ayton  Wilkinson  ....  461 

De  Vries,  Hugo.     Fertilization  and  Hybridization   514 

Esperanto,  Ilo  and  Malay.     By  Paul  Carus  430 

Fertilization  and  Hybridization.    By  Hugo  de  Vries  514 


IV  THE  MONIST. 

PAGE 

Frierson,  L.  S.     A  New  Method  for  Making  Magic  Squares  of  an  Odd 

Degree  441 

Garbe,  Richard  von.  Akbar,  Emperor  of  India 161 

Greenwood,  G.  W.  A  Twentieth  Century  Zeno  615 

Halsted,  G.  B.  Easy  Non-Euclid 399 

Harvey,  Basil  C.  H.  The  Nature  of  Vital  Processes  According  to  Rig- 

nano 321,  556 

Hawkesworth,  Alan  S.  In  How  Far  Was  Bel  the  Christ  of  Ancient 

Times  ? 309 

Heiberg,  J.  L.  A  Newly  Discovered  Treatise  of  Archimedes  202 

Heiberg  Manuscript  of  Archimedes,  A  Commentary  on  the.  By  D.  E. 

Smith  225 

Heracleitus's  Doctrine,  Some  Current  Beliefs  in  the  Light  of.  By  Percy 

Hughes 265 

Hughes,  Percy.  Some  Current  Beliefs  in  the  Light  of  Heracleitus's  Doc- 
trine   265 

Hume's  Natural  History  of  Religion.  By  Anton  Thomsen 269 

Hybridization,  Fertilization  and.  By  Hugo  de  Vries  514 

Idealist  and  a  Naturalist,  Dialogue  Between  an.  By  Edmund  Montgomery  46 

International  Language,  A  Defense  of.  By  O.  H.  Mayer 425 

International  Languages,  The  Future  of  Artificial.  By  A.  H.  Mackinnon.  420 
Internationale,  Experience  de  double  traduction  en  langue.  By  L.  Cou- 

turat  432 

James,  Professor,  A  Letter  from  156 

James,  William,  the  Pragmatist.  By  Edwin  Tausch I 

Kingery,  H.  M.  A  Magic  Cube  of  Six  434 

Lane,  Charles  Alva.  Montgomery's  Philosophy  of  Vital  Organization 582 

Leuba,  James  H.  The  Psychological  Origin  of  Religion 27 

Logan,  J.  D.  Self-Realization  and  the  Way  Out 609 

Lovejoy,  Professor,  on  "Der  vorchristliche  Jesus."  By  W.  B.  Smith 409 

Mackinnon,  A.  H.  The  Future  of  Artificial  Languages  420 

Magic  Cube  of  Six,  A.  By  H.  M.  Kingery 434 

Magic  Squares  of  an  Odd  Degree,  A  New  Method  for  Making.  By  L.  S. 

Frierson 441 

Magic  Squares,  Overlapping.  By  D.  F.  Savage  450 

Malay  Not  Acceptable  (With  Editorial  Reply).    By  O.  H.  Mayer  .......  633 

Mayer,  O.  H.  A  Defense  of  International  Language,  425 ;  Malay  Not 

Acceptable 633 

Memory  and  Sensation,  A  Biochemical  Conception  of  the  Phenomena  of 

By  T.  B.  Robertson 367 

Montgomery,  Edmund.  A  Dialogue  Between  an  Idealist  and  a  Naturalist  46 

Montgomery,  Dr.  Edmund.  By  Paul  Cams  160,  631 

Montgomery's  Philosophy  of  Vital  Organization.  By  C.  A.  Lane 582 

Music  in  the  Old  Testament.  By  C.  H.  Cornill  240 

Nature  of  Vital  Processes  According  to  Rignano,  The.  By  Basil  C.  H. 

Harvey 321 

Non-Euclid,  Easy.  By  G.  B.  Halsted  399 

Old  and  the  New,  The  (In  Reply  to  Mr.  W.  E.  Ayton  Wilkinson).  By 

Paul  Carus  468 


CONTENTS  OF  VOLUME  XIX.  V 

PAGE 

Old  Testament,  Music  in  the.     By  C.  H.  Cornill  240 

Peirce,  Charles  S.  S.     Some  Amazing  Mazes  36 

Personal  Equation,  The  Philosophy  of.    By  Paul  Carus  78 

Poincare,  H.    The  Choice  of  Facts  231 

Pragmatism,  A  German  Critic  of.     By  Paul  Carus  136 

Pragmatism,  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau  a  Forerunner  of.    By  Albert  Schinz. .  481 

Pragmatism,  A  Postscript  on.     By  Paul  Carus  85 

Pragmatism,  the  Philosophy  of  Personal  Equation.     By  Paul  Carus 78 

Pragmatist,  Wm.  James  the.     By  Edwin  Tausch  I 

Psychological  Laboratory  Proved  Helpful,  Has  the?     By  L.  M.  Billia  ...  351 

Psychological  Origin  of  Religion,  The.    By  James  H.  Leuba 27 

Psychology  a  Domain  of  Its  Own.     By  Paul  Carus  387 

Psychology,  A  Study  in  Abnormal.    By  Paul  Carus 148 

Religion,  David  Hume's  Natural  History  of.     By  Anton  Thomsen 269 

Religion,  The  Psychological  Origin  of.     By  James  H.  Leuba  27 

Religions,  The  Classification  of.    By  Duren  J.  H.  Ward  95 

Rignano,  The  Nature  of  Vital  Processes  According  to.     By  Basil  C.  H. 

Harvey 321,  556 

Robertson,  T.  Brailsford.     A  Biochemical  Conception  of  the  Phenomena 

of  Memory  and  Sensation,  367 ;  An  Open  Letter,  627. 

Rousseau,  Jean  Jacques,  a  Forerunner  of  Pragmatism.  By  Albert  Schinz  481 
Russell,  Francis  C.  A  Modern  Zeno,  289;  Mr.  F.  C.  Russell  Still  Demurs  620 
Russell's  Article  "A  Modern  Zeno,"  Some  Remarks  on  Mr.  By  W.  H. 

Bussey T 407 

Savage,  D.  F.     Overlapping  Magic  Squares  450 

Schinz,  Albert.    Jean  Jacques  Rousseau,  a  Forerunner  of  Pragmatism  ....  481 

Self-Realization  and  the  Way  Out.    By  J.  D.  Logan 609 

Sensation,  A  Biochemical  Conception  of  the  Phenomena  of  Memory  and. 

By  T.  B.  Robertson  367 

Smith,  David  Eugene.     A  Commentary  on  the   Heiberg  Manuscript  of 

Archimedes 225 

Smith,  W.  B.    Professor  Lovejoy  on  "Der  vorchristliche  Jesus"  409 

Straight  Line,  Construction  of  the.    By  Paul  Carus 402 

Tausch,  Edwin.     William  James,  the  Pragmatist  I 

Thomsen,  Anton.    David  Hume's  Natural  History  of  Religion 269 

Ward,  Duren  J.  H.    The  Classification  of  Religions  95 

Wilkinson,  W.  E.  Ayton.     Credulity,  Incredulity,  and  Immortality  461 

Wilkinson,  W.  E.  Ayton,  In  Reply  to.     Paul  Carus  468 

Zeno,  A  Modern.    By  Francis  C.  Russell 289 

Zeno,  A  Twentieth  Century.     By  G.  W.  Greenwood  615 

BOOK  REVIEWS. 

Annee  Biologique, 477,  639 

Anthropological  Museum  of  Berlin,  Report  of 160 

Baeumker,  C.    Witelo,  ein  Philosoph  und  Naturforscher  des  XIII.  Jahr- 

hunderts    478 

Ball,  C.  J.    The  Accadian  Affinities  of  Chinese 479 

Ball,  W.  Rouse.    Recreations  mathematiques 475 


VI  THE  MONIST. 

PAGE 

Books  received 640 

Butler,  Nicholas  Murray,     Philosophy  157 

Calkins,  Mary  W.    The  Persistent  Problems  of  Philosophy 158 

Cesaresco,  E.  M.    The  Place  of  Animals  in  Human  Thought 476 

Claparede-Spir,  Helene.     Collected  Works  of  A.  Spir  640 

Clemen,  Carl.    Religionsgeschichtliche  Erklarung  des  Neuen  Testaments.  319 

Cohn,  Jonas.    Voraussetzungen  and  Ziele  des  Erkennens 480 

Cook,  O.  F.    Aspects  of  Kinetic  Evolution 315 

Deussen,  Dr.  Paul.    Allgemeine  Geschichte  der  Philosophic 475 

Duhem,  Pierre.     Etudes  sur  Leonard  de  Vinci  639 

Gibson,  W.  R.  Boyce.    Rudolf  Eucken's  Philosophy  of  Life  3*7 

Hastings,  James,   (Ed.)     Dictionary  of  the  Bible  320 

Hibbcrt  Journal 3*7 

Irwin,  A.  M.  B.    The  Burmese  and  Arakanese  Calendars  638 

James,  William,  (In  Honor  of).    Essays  Philosophical  and  Psychological.   159 

Kaplan,  Jacob  H.     Psychology  of  Prophecy  480 

Keyser,  Cassius  J.     Mathematics  157 

Locy,  William  A.     Biology  and  Its  Makers  639 

Mentre,  F.    Cournot  et  la  renaissance  du  probabilisme  au  XIX.  siecle  . . .  479 

Meyer,  John  Jacob.     Hindu  Tales  638 

Miiller,  Dr.  Eugen.    Abriss  der  Algebra  der  Logik 475 

Palhories,  F.    Rosmini  316 

Philosophical  Review  319 

Picard,  Roger.     La  philosophic  sociale  de  Renouvier  316 

Pick,  Rev.  Bernhard.    Paralipomena 311 

Quin,  Malcolm.     Aids  to  Worship   477 

Radau,  Hugo.    Bel  the  Christ  of  Ancient  Times,  309;  Letters  to  Cassite 

Kings  from  the  Temple  Archives  at  Nippur,  635. 

Rand,  Benjamin.     Modern  Classical  Philosophers   312 

Richter,  R.    Der  Skeptizismus  in  der  Philosophic  und  seine  Ueberwindung  478 

Roberty,  Eugene  de.     Sociologie  de  1'action 478 

Schaff-Herzog  Encyclopedia  of  Religious  Knowledge,  The  New  ....  476,  640 

Schinz,  Albert.     Anti-Pragmatisme  474 

Schmidt,  Jakob.    Zur  Wiedergeburt  des  Idealismus  478 

Schultz,  Julius.     Die  drei  Welten  der  Erkenntnistheorie   637 

Shinn,  Milicent  Washburn.    Notes  on  the  Development  of  a  Child  480 

Staudinger,  Franz.    Wirthschaftliche  Grundlagen  der  Moral  317 

Strack,  Hermann.    Einleitung  in  den  Talmud  319 

Thompson,  R.  Campbell.     Semitic  Magic  638 

Vial,  L.  C.  E.    Les  Erreurs  de  la  science 479 

Vidari,  Giovanni.    L'Individualismo  nelle  dottrine  morali  del  secolo  XIX.  317 
Vidyabhusana,  Satis  Chandra.    History  of  the  Mediaeval  School  of  Indian 

Logic 637 

Wenzel,  Dr.  Phil.    Alfred.    Die  Weltanschauung  Spinoza's  314 

Worsley,  A.     Concepts  of  Monism  313 

Wulf,  M.  de.     Scholasticism,  Old  and  New  , .   159 


VOL.  XIX.  JANUARY,  1909.  NO.  i 


THE  MONIST 


WILLIAM  JAMES,  THE  PRAGMATIST  — A  PSY- 
CHOLOGICAL ANALYSIS. 

THE  DISCOVERER  OF  METAPHYSICS  AS  REFLEX  ACTION, 

I  MUST  preface  my  article  by  saying  that  I  do  not  intend 
to  pour  another  bucketful  of  criticisms  into  the  ocean 
that  is  now  surging  about  the  rock  of  pragmatism ;  I  feel 
no  call  to  improve  the  philosophy  of  any  one.  But  I  shall 
be  glad  if  I  succeed  in  understanding  Mr.  James  or  any 
other  philosopher  for  that  matter.  For  me  the  only  way 
to  understand  a  metaphysical  system  or  theory  lies  in  trans- 
lating it  as  far  as  possible  into  terms  of  genetic  psychology. 
As  Mr.  James  has  not  yet  published  his  autobiography,  the 
task  is  not  very  easy,  and  the  interpretations  offered  are, 
it  is  true,  largely  tentative,  but  I  hope  they  will  help  to  lay 
bare  the  pragmatist  secret. 

When  I  first  approached  the  domain  of  English  phi- 
losophy I  was  struck  with  two  facts. 

On  the  one  hand  I  searched  in  vain  for  a  single  philos- 
opher who  was  counted  among  the  great  systembuilders 
of  international  renown.  Of  course  H.  Spencer  at  first 
glance  seems  quite  an  exception  to  the  rule;  but  I  am  not 
sure  whether  he  is  after  all  an  exception.  Anyway  the 
exception  proves  the  rule. 

On  the  other  hand  I  was  surprised  to  find  so  many  bold 
and  successful  discoverers  in  the  land  of  darkest  phi- 
losophy, called  metaphysics.  It  is  true,  part  of  these  dis- 
coveries are  still  lying  about  like  unused  blocks  of  marble 


2  THE    MONIST. 

—only  waiting  to  be  reared  in  place  by  the  hand  of  the 
great  architect.  Taking  my  cue  from  the  dedicatory  lines 
of  James's  volume  on  Pragmatism,  I  will  illustrate  by  the 
discovery  of  the  principle  of  utility.  Although  John  Mill 
was  never  able  to  prove  the  truth  of  his  discovery,  and  had 
to  wait  for  Charles  Darwin  to  furnish  the  necessary  prem- 
ises, it  is  to  my  mind  the  one  hypothesis  which  made  pos- 
sible the  scientific  treatment  of  ethics  and  thus  rescued  it 
from  further  futile  speculation. 

Likewise  it  is  an  English-speaking  thinker  who  has 
discovered  the  personal  equation  in  all  our  thought,  our 
most  pretentious  critical  and  empiricist  philosophies  not 
excepted.  Mr.  James  insisted  more  than  twenty  years 
ago  that  the  difference  between  the  believer  in  an  invisible 
universe  and  the  agnostic  was  a  matter  of  "private  per- 
sonal appetite"  ( Will  to  Believe,  p.  56) ;  that  "as  a  rule  we 
disbelieve  all  facts  and  theories  for  which  we  have  no 
use"  ( Will,  p.  10) ;  that  "our  non-intellectual  nature  does 
influence  our  conviction"  (Will,  p.  10) ;  or  that  "pretend 
what  we  may,  the  whole  man  within  us  is  at  work  when 
we  form  our  philosophical  opinions"  (Will,  p.  92).  Even 
as  early  as  the  note  attached  to  "Some  Hegelisms,"  he  be- 
gan abundantly  to  scatter  hints  which  if  followed  up  would 
go  to  prove  the  truth  of  his  hypothesis.  He  traces,  for 
instance,  Hegel's  antithetical  and  synthetical  reasoning 
to  a  peculiar  kind  of  abstraction-trance.  But  although  Mr. 
James  has  never  elaborated  his  great  discovery  into  a 
psychology  of  metaphysics,  yet  we  find  in  his  latest  book 
the  hypothesis  now  to  have  grown  into  a  theory  about  our 
method  of  knowing — pragmatism.  In  the  present  stage 
of  its  development  he  is  now  ready  to  charge  the  profes- 
sional philosophers  with  "a  certain  insincerity  in  our  phil- 
osophical discussions"  inasmuch  as  "the  potentest  of  all  our 
premises  is  never  mentioned,"  temperament  being  no  con- 
ventionally recognized  reason  (Pragm.  pp.  6,  7). 


WILLIAM  JAMES,  THE  PRAGMATIST.  3 

Now  Mr.  James  distinguishes  two  kinds  of  mental  tem- 
per and  accordingly  two  types  of  philosophers :  the  tough- 
minded  or  the  empiricist  and  the  tender-minded  or  the 
intellectualist.  In  which  of  the  two  classes  shall  we  place 
the  pragmatist?  Since  the  tough-minded  are  "the  men 
whose  Alpha  and  Omega  are  facts''  (Pragm.,  p.  262)  the 
pragmatist  appears  to  be  one  of  them  because  "pragmatism 
is  uncomfortable  away  from  the  facts"  unlike  intellectual- 
ism  which  "is  comfortable  only  in  the  presence  of  ab- 
stractions" (Pragm.,  p.  76).  Accordingly  pragmatism 
must  be  a  metaphysical  attitude  closely  akin  to  empiricism. 
If  a  metaphysical  attitude  is  "our  individual  way  of  just 
seeing  and  feeling  the  total  push  and  pressure  of  the 
cosmos"  (Pragm.,  p.  4)  Mr.  James  appears  to  consider 
it  the  preference  of  each  one  of  us  in  reacting  upon  ex- 
perience as  a  whole,  in  short,  our  private  affair. 

But  it  is  well  to  be  cautious  in  dealing  with  prag- 
matism because  besides  being  a  metaphysical  attitude  prag- 
matism is  still  something  else.  It  is  also  a  theory  of  knowl- 
edge newly  discovered  within  physiological  psychology, 
from  which  there  has  been  evolved  a  method  to  judge 
about  ideas  and  hypotheses  in  a  scientific  impersonal  way. 
"On  pragmatic  principles"  or  to  differentiate  more  sharply, 
as  pragmatic  scientists  in  contrast  with  the  pragmatic  meta- 
physicians, "we  cannot  reject  any  hypothesis  if  conse- 
quences useful  to  life  flow  from  it.  Universal  conceptions 
as  things  to  be  taken  account  of  may  be  as  real  for  prag- 
matism as  particular  sensations"  (p.  273).  "We  cannot, 
therefore,  methodically,"  i.  e.,  as  pragmatic  scientists,  "join 
the  tough  minds  in  their  rejection  of  the  whole  notion  of  a 
world  beyond  our  finite  experience."  Thus  the  absolute 
edition  of  the  world  is  "indispensable  at  least  to  certain 
minds,  for  it  determines  them  religiously,  being  often  a 
thing  to  change  their  lives  by"  (Pragm.,  p.  266).  Or, 
since  there  are  people  who  interpret  Walt  Whitman's  poem 


4  THE    MONIST. 

"To  You"  monistically,  "pragmatism"  let  me  again  differ- 
entiate by  the  definition,  as  a  scientific  attitude  "must  re- 
spect this  way,  for  it  has  massive  historic  vindication. 
But  pragmatism" — let  me  modify  again, — as  a  scientific 
attitude  "sees  another  way  to  be  respected  also,  the  plural- 
istic way"  (Pragm.,  p.  276).  The  pragmatic  scientist, 
then,  is  not  only  tolerant,  but  also  a  defender  of  metaphys- 
ical hypotheses,  even  if  rationalistic,  "so  far  as  these  re- 
direct you  fruitfully  into  experience."  From  this  point  of 
view  Mr.  James  may  justly  object  to  identifying  prag- 
matism with  positivistic  tough-mindedness,  to  supposing 
that  "it  scorns  every  rationalistic  notion  as  so  much  jabber 
and  gesticulation"  (Pragm.,  p.  266). 

This  tolerance  of  the  pragmatic  scientist,  then,  allows 
two  provisional  formulations  of  ultimate  truth,  the  one 
excluding  the  other  as  its  contrary,  and  thus  doing  away 
with  the  logician's  law  of  identity.  This  cannot  be  Mr. 
James's  meaning.  It  smacks  too  much  of  Kenan's  phan- 
tasmagoria of  the  Absolute  who  makes  us  live  by  illusions. 
The  Varieties  of  Religious  Experience  suggest  rather  that 
there  may  be  several  relative  truths  of  equal  validity 
(though  exclusive  of  each  other)  because  there  are  several 
types  of  mental  constitution  among  men  varying  according 
to  race,  environment  and  temperament.  I  would  like  to 
call  them  emotional-volitional  truths  in  distinction  from  the 
intellectual  truths  of  physics  or  chemistry;  and  I  would 
define  them  as  teleological  or  spiritual  truths  in  distinction 
from  the  mechancal  truths  which  fit  the  outer  aspect  of 
our  experience. 

These  teleological  truths  are  expressed  in  the  imagina- 
tive language  of  the  personal  will  and,  it  is  true,  are  valid 
only  for  the  individual.  They  turn  from  relative  into 
ultimate  truths  only  by  act  of  the  individual  will,  or  to 
give  Kant  some  credit  in  this  matter  of  scientific  prag- 
matism, by  act  of  "the  practical  reason."  As  pragmatic 


WILLIAM  JAMES,  THE  PRAGMATIST.  5 

scientists  we  may  thus  affirm  what  Bagehot  denies,  that  the 
intensity  of  the  emotion  is  a  sign  of  truth  although  it  is 
precisely  strongest  in  those  points  in  which  men  differ  most 
from  each  other.  John  Knox,  for  instance,  was  just  as 
right  in  his  anti-catholicism  as  Ignatius  Loyola  in  his 
anti-protestantism  (James,  Psych.,  Vol.  II,  p.  308). 

But  Mr.  James  may  insist  that  Kant,  staking  out  the 
boundary  line  between  metaphysics  and  scientific  philos- 
ophy, is  "ein  iiberwundener  Standpunkt"  for  the  prag- 
matist.  Well,  even  if  the  pragmatist  is  out  of  harmony 
with  Kant — even  if  the  former  sees  in  experience  but  a 
universal  flux,  even  if  truth  is  caught  only  in  the  verifica- 
tion process,  I  cannot  understand  why  he  does  not  differ- 
entiate between  the  verification  process  of  general  mech- 
anical truths  and  of  individual  teleological  truths.  The 
feeling  of  conviction  attending  the  former  differs  from 
that  of  the  latter.  The  former  are  based  on  the  stable  or- 
ganization of  our  senses ;  the  latter  on  the  changing  mood 
of  our  emotional-volitional  nature.  Their  origin,  then, 
being  different,  they  constitute  for  me  different  classes  of 
psychic  phenomena.  For  even  if  I  appreciate  the  great 
psychological  discovery  that  Kant's  practical  reason  sways 
even  the  function  of  conceiving,  of  fixing,  holding  fast  to 
meanings — even  if  I  admit  that  the  "conceiving  or  theoriz- 
ing faculty  functions  exclusively  for  the  sake  of  ends  that 

are  set  by  our  emotional  and  practical  subjectivity" 

(Will,  p.  117),  I  cannot  yet  see  why  we  should  not  differ- 
entiate between  truths  when  the  one  class  has  as  its  father 
the  outer  or  space  aspect  of  things  and  the  other,  the  inner 
or  teleological  aspect;  that  they  are  children  of  the  same 
mother  "the  powers  of  will"  (Will,  p.  140),  that  does  not 
make  them  alike. 

And  it  is  for  this  difference  in  psychic  origin  and  char- 
acter that  I  have  here  introduced  into  my  interpretation  of 
pragmatism  the  distinction  between  the  pragmatist  as  a 


6  THE    MONIST. 

metaphysician  who  deals  with  his  own  individual  teleo- 
logical  truths,  and  the  pragmatist  as  a  man  of  science 
who  attends  to  the  intellectual  truths  abstracted  from  the 
outer  aspect,  be  it  man  or  atom. 

THE  UTILITARIAN. 

If  Mr.  James  does  not  admit  this  distinction  to  be  valid 
for  him  or  anybody  else  that  wants  to  understand  him,  I 
will  appeal  to  the  tolerance  behooving  a  pragmatic  scientist 
that  he  allow  me  for  once  the  use  of  this  hypothetical  dis- 
tinction; I  should  like  to  try  whether  the  distinction  will 
not  "work"  in  probing  deeper  the  psychic  origins  of  prag- 
matism. 

First,  then,  the  pragmatic  metaphysician  avows  himself 
to  "agree  with  utilitarianism  in  emphasizing  practical  as- 
pects" (Pragm.,  p.  53).  He  is  a  creature  of  likes  and  dis- 
likes, of  abilities  and  inabilities  which  finally  produce  a 
number  of  postulates  regarding  God,  freedom  and  immor- 
tality. He  is  more  precocious  than  the  scientist.  The 
metaphysician  tells  us  he  has  always  had  "a  great  mistrust 
of  the  pretensions  of  the  gnostic  faith."  Not  only  does 
he  "utterly  fail  to  understand  what  a  cognitive  faculty, 
erected  into  the  absolute,  of  being  with  itself  as  its  object, 
can  mean"  (Will.  p.  140)  ;  but  neither  can  he  fathom  why 
we  in  our  speculation,  which  the  intellectualist  demands 
of  us,  ought  to  "agree"  with,  or  to  "copy"  the  highest  reality 
without  that  any  good  would  accrue  to  us  (Prag.,  p.  234; 
Journal  of  Phil.,  IV,  5,  p.  130). 

*       #       # 

I  do  not  know  how  early  in  life  he  began  to  mistrust 
the  speculation  of  those  who  think  they  may  conquer  the 
Absolute  by  reasoning.  I  should  not  wonder,  however,  if 
we  will  be  told  in  the  autobiography  which  the  discoverer 
of  metaphysics  as  reflex  action  owes  us,  that  in  his  boyhood 
the  question  cuibono  was  the  one  and  all  criterion  of  truth, 


WILLIAM  JAMES,  THE  PRAGMATIST.  7 

—a  fan  by  which  he  sifted  the  wheat  of  his  boyhood  phi- 
losophy from  the  chaff  of  what  the  boy  considered  nonsense 
or  fallacies  urged  upon  him  by  home,  church  or  school. 
It  is  safe  to  say  that  in  his  boyhood  days  he  must  have 
been  a  utilitarian,  just  as  most  of  us  were  utilitarians 
when  boys.  Even  John  Mill,  reading  Bentham  in  Du- 
mont's  Traite  discovered  his  principle  of  utility  when  he 
was  scarcely  more  than  a  boy. 

But  it  is  not  a  boy's  business  to  tackle  the  Absolute. 
All  I  have  been  able  to  learn  about  the  Absolute  inclines 
me  to  assume  that  it  is  a  psychic  experience  which  comes 
after  the  emotional  storm  and  stress  of  puberty  during 
the  first  critical  half  of  adolescence.  Under  the  influence 
of  the  Absolute  a  great  many  new  ideas  for  a  still  sub- 
conscious system  are  acquired,  and  some  old  ones  not  with- 
out qualms  pruned  or  entirely  cut  out.  All  this  prepares 
the  productive  second  half  of  adolescence  in  which  youth 
struts  about  as  a  reformer  (MH1,  Tolstoy)  or  delivers  him- 
self of  his  World  as  Will  and  Idea,  his  Phenomenology,  his 
New  Theory  of  Vision,  his  Sartor  Resartus  and  his  Will 
to  Believe. 

For  our  present  purpose  it  is  not  indispensable  to  de- 
termine which  half  of  adolescence  it  was  when  Mr.  James 
for  the  first  time  asked  the  question  what  use  there  would 
be  for  a  God  who  is  an  absolute  cognitive  faculty.  It  is 
enough  to  see  him  testify  (  Will,  p.  140)  that  the  utilitarian 
attitude  was  ready  made  when  later  as  a  student  of  phys- 
iology and  psychology  he  found  the  only  lesson  he  could 
learn  from  these  sciences  to  be  one  that  corroborated  the 
convictions  acquired  before.  "From  its  first  dawn,"  he 
continues  in  the  passage  referred  to,  "to  its  highest  actual 
attainment  we  find  that  the  cognitive  faculty.  . .  .appears 
but  as  one  element  in  an  organic  whole  and  as  a  minister 
to  higher  mental  powers — the  powers  of  Will."  As  evo- 
lution has  saved  John  Mill's  principle  of  utility  from  being 


8  THE  MONIST. 

a  mere  metaphysical  idiosyncracy,  so  "the  theory  of  evolu- 
tion is  beginning  to  do  very  good  service  by  its  reduction 
of  all  mentality  to  the  type  of  reflex  action"  (Will,  p.  84). 

THE  EVOLUTIONIST. 

It  is  true,  however,  the  one  sort  of  mentality  which 
concerns  us  here  most,  metaphysics,  is  still  awaiting  its 
reduction  to  that  type;  but,  suppose  it  had  been  done,  we 
still  would  have  to  admit  that  the  theory  of  evolution  itself 
is  nothing  but  a  working  hypothesis — a  fact  to  which  the 
pragmatic  scientist  will  agree  more  readily  than  anybody 
else;  for  according  to  him  "all  our  theories  are  instrumen- 
tal, are  mental  modes  of  adaptation  to  reality"  (Pragm., 
p.  194).  Moreover  the  theory  of  evolution  seems  to 
"work"  with  some  people  better  than  with  others.  There  is 
apparently  a  type  of  mind  which  easily  takes  to  the  theory. 
Men  like  G.  Bruno,  Thomas  Browne,  J.  Bohme,  Lamarck, 
Hegel  and  Darwin  are  beautiful  specimens  of  that  type. 
Indeed  there  are  evolutionists  that  are  born  so.  But  there 
are  also  other  minds  with  whom  the  idea  of  evolution  or 
becoming  as  ultimate  truth  does  not  agree.  Witness  Plato 
and  his  helpless  struggle  with  the  hypostatized  concept  of 
becoming.  Witness  Schopenhauer,  Cuvier,  Saint  Meunier, 
Virchow  and  a  great  many  other  thinkers  of  modern  times, 
especially  Frenchmen.  It  is  indeed  a  rare  case  to  have  a 
thinker  combine  in  himself,  as  Goethe  did,  the  plastic  imag- 
ery of  the  artist  and  the  dynamic  type  of  thought  of  the 
evolutionist. 

However,  what  is  the  dynamic  type  of  thought  ?  What 
is  a  born  evolutionist?  While  studying  the  mental  devel- 
opment of  Darwin  and  A.  R.  Wallace,  I  found  the  dis- 
covery of  the  theory  of  evolution  closely  connected  with  a 
certain  kind  of  the  regressus  ad  infinitum  in  the  temporal 
succession  of  similar  animals.  During  his  voyage  on  the 
"Beagle"  Darwin  at  the  adolescent  stage,  so  rife  with  dis- 


WILLIAM  JAMES,  THE  PRAGMATIST.  9 

coveries,  was  "deeply  impressed  by  discovering"  this  suc- 
cession and  could  not  explain  it  but  "on  the  supposition 
that  species  gradually  became  modified."  The  subject  was 
so  "touched  with  emotion,"  as  Mr.  James  would  say  (  Va- 
rieties of  Rel.  Exp.,  p.  422),  that  it  "haunted"  Darwin; 
and  still  at  forty-nine  he  writes :  "There  is  a  grandeur  in 
this  view  of  life  with  its  several  powers  having  been  orig- 
inally breathed  in  a  few  forms,  or  into  one,  and  that .... 
from  so  simple  a  beginning  endless  forms .  . .  have  been  and 
are  being  evolved"  (Origin  of  Species,  p.  370).  I  would 
like  to  call  such  an  elated  retrospect  a  time-trance  in  con- 
tradistinction to  a  space-trance  such  as  Kant  experienced 
on  looking  out  into  the  endless  expanse  of  the  heavens. 
Both  trances  are  fits  of  abstraction  in  which  the  difference 
of  mental  imagination  disappears  and  the  images  fuse 
into  unity. 

In  cases  of  the  time-trance,  the  emotion  of  unity  has  the 
intellectual  after-effect  of  a  "supposition"  of  evolution.  Dar- 
win apparently  testifies  to  this  fusion  of  images  when  he 
writes  at  35 :  "If  we  choose  to  let  conjecture  run  wild,  then 
animals.  . .  .may  partake  of  our  origin  in  one  common  an- 
cestor. . .  .  we  may  be  all  melted  together"  (Darwin's  Life, 
p.  368).  At  the  same  time  he  speaks  of  "the  tree  of  life" 
or  "coral  of  life"  as  a  figure  for  the  unity  of  all  organic 
beings.  And  the  haunting  "supposition"  was  so  "touched 
with  emotion,"  so  powerful  a  postulate,  that  Darwin  spent 
a  life-time  to  raise  it  from  a  working  hypothesis  to  the  rank 
of  a  scientific  law. 

If  it  were  not  for  Goethe's  Urpftanze  and  primal  verte- 
bra I  would  not  know  what  more  to  say  about  the  evolu- 
tionist type  of  mind.  But  the  zootropic  or  cinematographic 
fusion  of  similar  mental  images  as  in  Goethe,  Henslow, 
in  dreams  and  dreamy  states  (Binet,  Psychol.  of  Reason- 
ing, chap.  IV)  of  mind  have  suggested  to  me  further  details 
concerning  the  matter. 


IO  THE   MONIST. 

We  have  to  distinguish  two  kinds  of  fusion  of  similar 
images,  the  one  a  real,  lasting  fusion,  the  other  a  momen- 
tary, seeming  one,  probably. 

First,  there  is  going  on  within  us  a  subconscious  pro- 
cess, more  or  less  automatic,  similar  to  composite  photog- 
raphy which  stocks  our  memory  with  generic  images.  For 
these  images  man  has  invented  names  and  in  place  of  these 
images  many  a  mind  lacking  them  altogether  uses  the 
names  as  thought-symbols  for  reasoning. 

Individuals  further  differ  in  two  respects,  first,  in  the 
extent  of  possible  fusion.  On  the  negative  end  of  the  series 
you  may  place  Professor  Wundt  with  hisAllgemeinbegriffe 
which  will  not  fuse  at  all ;  about  the  middle,  Plato  with  his 
ideal  generic  images  or  some  other  artist  with  his  types 
of  abstract  concepts;  and  at  the  positive  end,  Goethe. 

Individuals  differ,  secondly,  in  the  orderly  coordination 
of  the  generic  images.  Goethe's  primal  plant  seems  to  be 
an  instance  of  unusual  fusion  as  well  as  of  thorough  sys- 
tematic coordinatidh  by  resemblance.  In  minds  of  the 
type  preeminently  fitted  to  systematize,  the  products  of 
fusion  seem  to  become  so  well  coordinated  according  to 
resemblance  that  Darwin's  tree  of  life  as  mental  coordina- 
tion of  generic  images  functions  better  than  a  perfect  pedi- 
gree of  genera  and  species  arranged  in  temporal  succession. 
Attention  may  easily  run  along  its  branches  and,  if  shifting 
fast  enough,  melt  together  even  the  opposite  species  in  their 
genus.  It  functions  better  than  a  pedigree  because  it  is 
a  net-work  of  pedigrees.  Not  only  the  pedigree  of  the 
whole  animal  or  the  plant  has  a  place  in  this  system,  but 
also  its  parts,  the  leaves,  or  the  bones  have  theirs,  and  that 
part  which  has  the  longest  pedigree  fuses  later  than  the 
rest  and  includes  the  fusion  of  the  rest.  It  produces  not 
only  the  primal  leaf  but  also  the  primal  plant  because  the 
pedigrees  of  the  remaining  parts  are  finally  fused  in  the 
longest  pedigree  which  is  that  of  the  leaf. 


WILLIAM  JAMES,,  THE  PRAGMATIST.  1 1 

But  with  the  material  at  hand  I  am  not  so  very  sure 
that  even  in  regard  to  Goethe's  case  I  am  not  already  dis- 
cussing the  momentary  and  seeming  fusion,  the  second 
kind  as  we  differentiated  above.  In  some  evolutionists, 
probably  the  larger  number,  the  fusion  is  not  permanent; 
it  does  not  produce  generic  images  which  are  so  individual- 
ized as  to  constitute  a  new  species.  Usually  when  generic 
images  rise  into  waking  consciousness,  they  appear  im- 
movable, seemingly  unchangeable,  static  composite  photo- 
graphs, however  much  they  are  subject  to  subconscious 
changes  that  follow  upon  new  sense-experiences.  But  in 
some  minds  they  seem  to  appear  in  the  field  of  attention 
with  such  rapidity  that  the  onlooking  subject  perceives 
naught  but  the  continuous  change  of  the  kinematograph. 
Witness  Goethe  seeing  his  primal  plant  grow  while  walking 
in  the  botanical  garden  of  Padua.  Most  evolutionists, 
however,  have  no  such  command  over  their  subliminal 
mind  as  genius  has.  And  if  we  venture  an  explanation  of 
dynamic  thought  along  the  line  of  fusion  of  images,  we 
will  have  to  assume  that  the  process  of  momentary  fusion 
is  wholly  subconscious  in  the  average  evolutionist.  Then 
the  subject  would  receive  only  conscious  information  that 
the  fusion  of  a  simple  pedigree  has  been  subconsciously 
accomplished ;  this  information  would  come  in  a  few  word- 
symbols  expressing  the  evolution  of  the  whole  genus  and 
the  origin  of  all  species  of  that  genus  from  out  of  one 
primal  specimen.  Witness  Goethe  at  Venice  realizing  the 
evolution  of  the  genus  "bone"  out  of  one  primal  vertebra. 

Although  fully  aware  of  the  tentative  character  of  the 
details  of  the  explanation  here  offered,  yet,  until  further 
biographical  analyses  say  otherwise,  I  will  hold  that  it 
takes  two  things  to  make  a  born  evolutionist :  ( I )  the 
time-trance,  and  (2)  the  highly  developed  faculty  of  sys- 
tematizing which  coordinates  generic  images  by  resem- 
blance into  a  net-work  of  temporal  succession. 


12  THE  MONIST. 

That  we  are  on  the  right  track,  at  least  regarding  the 
time-trance  and  its  momentary  fusion  of  images,  appears 
to  me  the  more  certain  when  we  consider  the  trance  in 
which  Gotama  Buddha  discovered  the  "chain  of  causation/' 
Dante  the  "eternal  wheels"  of  creation,  Jacob  Bohme  the 
"principia"  and  Goethe  the  "chain  of  buckets."  In  Faust' s 
vision  of  the  macrocosm  we  read: 

"Here  all  things  live  and  work  and  ever  blending 
Weave  one  vast  whole  from  Being's  ample  range 
Here  powers  celestial  rising  and  descending, 
Their  golden  buckets  ceaseless  interchange; 
Their  flight  on  rapture-breathing  pinions  winging, 
From  heaven  to  earth  their  genial  influence  bringing, 
Through  the  wide  whole  their  chimes  melodious  ringing." 
(Act  I,  Scene  I.    Miss  Swanwick's  translation.) 

The  very  incoherency  of  these  different  images  testifies 
to  the  fact  that  the  poet  saw  them  at  least  for  moments 
fuse  in  his  inner  vision  and  that  he  does  not  accurately 
describe  the  psychic  phenomenon  when  he  compares  the 
content  of  the  vision  with  a  drama.  The  dramatis  personae 
play  their  several  parts  without  ever  changing  or  fusing 
into  one  another.  In  like  manner  one  has  inaccurately 
spoken  of  Hegel's  Punch  and  Judy  Show  of  concepts. 
Hegel's  dialectics  is  not  a  drama  if  we  understand  by  it 
a  succession  of  interactions  by  personalities  of  a  static 
character ;  but  it  is  a  drama  if  drama  means  the  evolution 
and  involution  of  moral  or  immoral  forces.  Although  hy- 
postatized,  Hegel's  concepts  fuse  with  one  another  and 
with  the  rapidity  of  the  kinematograph  or  kaleidoscope 
change  like  the  zoological  or  botanical  species  in  the  evo- 
lutionist's mind. 

Hegel  has  a  natural  liking  for  things  that  move  and 
change,  and  a  dislike  for  things  static.  That  his  mental 
imagery  worked  that  way,  is  to  my  mind  most  clearly  laid 
bare  in  his  lines  written  on  a  tour  through  the  Bernese 
Oberland  in  1796.  Delighted  with  the  sight  of  the  water- 


WILLIAM  JAMES,  THE  PRAGMATIST.  13 

falls,  he  says  that  the  onlooker,  not  able  to  fix  his  eyes  on 
the  ever  changing,  ever  flooded  out  form  of  the  waves, 
constantly  perceives  the  same  image  and  at  the  same  time 
realizes  that  it  is  not  the  same  (Rosenkranz's  Hegel,  p. 
478).  On  the  other  hand,  the  glaciers  and  the  rocks  called 
forth  no  rapture,  rather  the  reverse.  These  masses  gave 
him  nothing  but  the  monotonous  and  at  last  tedious  idea 
"Es  ist  so."  Although  he  cannot  help  calling  them  "eter- 
nally dead,"  they  do  not  call  forth  the  time-trance  in  which 
he  may  look  at  things  sub  specie  aeternitatis. 

This  delight  in  the  fusion  of  things,  in  the  Heraclitean 
universal  flux  seems  most  natural  also  to  Mr.  James;  and 
most  probably  constitutes  a  metaphysical  need  or  "craving" 
of  his.  It  is  only  from  this  point  of  view  that  I  am  able 
to  see  a  meaning  in  some  appreciative  lines  on  the  Hegelian 
principle  of  negation,  which  is  claimed  to  bring  a  propul- 
sive force  into  our  logic,  and  on-the  metaphysical  program 
involved  (Varieties,  p.  459).  "The  objects  of  our  thought 
now  act  within  our  thought,  act  as  objects  act  when  given 
in  experience.  They  change  and  develop.  They  introduce 
something  other  than  themselves  along  with  them,  and  this 
other  proves  itself  also  to  be  actual ....  The  universe  is  a 
place  where  things  are  followed  by  other  things  that  both 
correct  and  fulfil  them."  This  program  executed  would 
give  us  a  system  of  generalizations  which  would  not  differ 
from  the  Hegelian  in  its  dynamic  form. 

THE  EMPIRICIST  WITH  A  SPIRITUAL  VISION. 

But  such  a  system  of  experience  would  indeed  differ 
from  the  Hegelian  in  its  content,  that  is,  the  experience 
which  the  pragmatic  metaphysician  brings  to  his  task. 

Mr.  James  knows  two  kinds  of  experience:  sense  ex- 
perience on  the  one  side  and  emotional-volitional  or  spirit- 
ual experience  on  the  other.  His  volume  on  Varieties  of 
Religious  Experience  is  devoted  to  a  scientific  description 


14  THE   MONIST. 

of  the  way  people  have  emotionally  and  volitionally  ex- 
perienced the  world  as  a  whole.  The  pragmatic  scientist 
there  demonstrates  (i)  that  there  are  moments  of  emo- 
tional and  volitional  experience  in  which  we  realize  more 
deeply  than  at  other  times  the  purpose  and  meaning  of 
life;  (2)  that  there  are  various  degrees  of  intensity  of  this 
experience  which  we  may  call  the  spiritual  or  teleological 
vision:  and  (3)  that  the  after-effect  of  the  spiritual  vision 
is  often  a  lasting  conviction  or  philosophy  of  life. 

Years  before  the  publication  of  the  Gifford  Lectures, 
Mr.  James  testified  to  having  himself  had  some  experience 
of  the  kind.  Stating  his  belief  that  in  cooperation  with 
God's  purposes  must  lie  the  real  meaning  of  our  destiny, 
and  generalizing  from  what  is  true  with  him  individually, 
he  argues  in  his  Will  to  Believe :  "All  men  know  it  at  those 
rare  moments  when  the  soul  sobers  down  and  leaves  off 
....  insisting  about  this  formula  or  that.  In  the  silence 
of  our  theories  we  then  seem  to  listen  and  to  hear  something 
like  the  pulse  of  Being  beat"  (p.  140).  Or  we  read  in  his 
Talks  to  Teachers  (p.  242)  :  "The  higher  vision  of  an 
inner  significance  in  what,  until  then,  we  had  realized  only 
in  the  dead  external  way,  often  comes  over  a  person  sud- 
denly; and  when  it  does  so,  it  makes  an  epoch  in  his  his- 
tory!" 

When  the  higher  vision  came  over  Mr.  James  I  am  not 
able  to  tell.  But  that  it  made  an  epoch  in  his  mental 
history,  or  if  that  is  overstating  the  case — (some  like  the 
Rev.  E.  E.  Hale  never  had  a  break  in  their  inner  develop- 
ment)— that  the  vision  had  a  lasting  after-effect  upon  our 
pragmatic  metaphysician,  we  may  infer  from  another  state- 
ment about  the  value  of  the  ontological  vision,  as  he  some- 
times calls  that  experience.  He  says  (Will,  p.  74):  "At 
such  moments  of  energetic  living  we  feel  as  if  there  were 
something  diseased  and  contemptible,  yea,  vile,  in  theoretic 
grubbing  and  brooding." 


WILLIAM  JAMES,  THE  PRAGMATIST.  1 5 

But,  Mr.  James  still  believes  in  theoretic  grubbing  and 
brooding;  he  is  still  a  philosopher,  and,  what  is  more  as- 
tonishing, he  is  still  a  pluralist  although  he  himself  admits 
that  ''mystical  states  of  mind  in  every  degree  are  shown 
by  history,  usually  though  not  always,  to  make  for  the 
monistic  view"  (Pragni.  p.  151). 

He  accounts  for  the  Hindu  and  Buddhist  belief  in 
monism  by  the  supposition  that  they  are  "afraid  of  more 
experience,  afraid  of  life"  (Pragni.,  p.  292).  The  very 
tenor  of  this  statement  shows  him  altogether  out  of  sym- 
pathy with  the  monistic  after-effect  of  the  spiritual  vision. 
To  justify  his  own  hostile  attitude  toward  Hegel  the  monist 
par  excellence,  he  quotes  Baron  Bunsen  writing  to  his  wife. 

"Nothing  is  near  but  the  far;  nothing  true  but  the 
highest ;  nothing  credible  but  the  inconceivable ;  nothing  so 
real  as  the  impossible ;  nothing  clear  but  the  deepest,  noth- 
ing so  visible  as  the  invisible,  .and  no  life  is  there  but 
through  death"  (Will,  p.  274). 

To  gain  a  broad  historical  basis  and  shed  light  upon  a 
whole  class  of  thinkers,  Mr.  James  adds:  "Of  these  ecstatic 
moments  the  credo  quia  impossibile  is  the  classical  ex- 
pression." 

Then  he  goes  on  to  say  that  "Hegel's  originality  lies  in 
his  making  their  mood  permanent ....  and  authorized  to 
supersede  all  others — not  as  a  mystical  bath  and  refuge 
for  feeling  when  tired  reason  sickens  of  her  intellectual 
responsibilities  (Thank  heaven!  that  bath  is  always  ready) 
but  as  the  very  form  of  intellectual  responsibility."  He 
scolds  Hegel  for  reasoning  as  the  mystical  or  spiritual 
experience  dictates  and  seems  to  insist  that  we  are  in  duty 
bound  to  use  our  intellect  according  to  the  second  kind  of 
experience,  which  we  said  he  distinguishes  from  the  emo- 
tional one,  that  is  sense-experience.  Now,  sense-experience 
is  nothing  but  the  experience  of  mechanical  things  moving 
in  space.  Thus  the  pragmatic  scientist  will  tell  us  that 


l6  THE  MONIST. 

ascribing  an  inner  life  to  our  dearest  ones  is  not  sense- 
experience,  but  a  conclusion  from  analogy  and  thus  a 
belief.  As  belief  it  belongs  wholly  to  the  emotional  expe- 
rience. 

Like  ordinary  people,  then,  the  pragmatic  metaphysi- 
cian is  not  a  materialist  who  believes  the  world  to  be  ex- 
ternal motion  of  dead  matter;  neither  is  he  satisfied  with 
the  mental  reserve  of  men  like  Lotze,  Renouvier  and  Hodg- 
son. They,  at  an  earlier  stage  of  their  development 
"promptly  say  that  of  experience  as  a  whole  no  account 
can  be  given,  but  neither  seek  to  soften  the  abruptness  of 
the  confession  nor  to  reconcile  us  with  our  impotence" 
(Will,  p.  74).  On  the  contrary,  he  believes  the  world  to 
be  "an  indefinitely  numerous  lot  of  caches"  (Pragm.,  p. 
264)  and  calls  himself  a  pluralist.  His  view  of  life  is 
based  on  the  belief  in  the  truth  of  the  emotional  experience 
as  the  inner  aspect  of  things.  And  most  naturally  so  ( i ) 
because  he  is  aware  that  "the  peace  of  rationality  may  be 
sought  through  ecstacy  when  logic  fails"  to  give  account 
of  experience  as  a  whole,  and  (2)  because  he  constitu- 
tionally likes  higher  visions,  ecstatic  moments,  ontological 
emotions  "as  a  mystical  bath  and  refuge  for  feeling." 
Since  he  does  not  reject  this  kind  of  experience  and  since 
no  ecstatic  moment  is  without  its  noetic  quality,  some  of  the 
fundamental  postulates  of  his  philosophy  must  have  had 
their  origin  in  the  higher  vision.  To  return  to  a  passage 
( Will,  p.  140)  which  I  have  referred  to  before,  "at  those 
rare  moments  when  the  soul  sobers  down,"  when  "we 
seem ....  to  hear  something  like  the  pulse  of  Being  beat"  it 
was  borne  in  upon  Mr.  James,  the  metaphysician,  at  thirty- 
nine  or  earlier  (i)  that  the  dumb  willingness  to  suffer 
and  to  serve  this  universe  is  more  than  all  theories  about 
it  put  together,  (2)  that  God's  being  is  external  to,  and 
sacred  from  ours,  (3)  that  in  cooperation  with  his  pur- 
poses lies  the  real  meaning  of  our  destiny. 


WILLIAM  JAMES,  THE  PRAGMATIST.  17 

This  spiritual  experience  implies  the  following  meta- 
physical postulates  as  their  automatic  insight  or  after- 
effect. 

1.  Mr.  James,  the  pragmatic  metaphysician,  believes  in 
the  reality  of  the  inner  aspect ;  the  world  is  mental  experi- 
ence; Mr.  James  is  an  idealist  so  far  at  least,  as  the  su- 
premacy of  the  inner  or  psychic  over  the  outer  or  mechan- 
ical aspect  implies,  or  if  you  like  a  less  indefinite  or  abstract 
term,  he  is  a  pan-psychist. 

2.  Mr.  James  believes  that  the  essential  root  of  human 
personality  lies  in  a  resolute  moral  energy.     Personality 
is,  therefore,  first  of  all  will,  and  Mr.  James  is  accordingly 
a  voluntarist. 

3.  He  demands  in  the  universe  "a  character  for  which 
our  emotions  and  active  propensities  shall  be  a  match" 
(Psych.,  II,  313,  1882).    He  believes  in  a  God  who  is  also 
will,  a  will  sacred  from  our  own,  who  is  in  a  way  authority 
over  us  and  wants  our  cooperation, — another  personality 
adding  his  part  to  make  up  the  universe.     The  phrase 
about  "the  dumb  willingness  to  suffer  and  to  serve  this 
universe/'  betrays  to  my  mind  that  the  vision  itself  had 
identified  God  with  the  universe,  that  Mr.  James  knows 
from  experience  the  emotion  of  unity  with  the  universe 
which  is  monistic.    However  that  may  be,  the  after-effect 
is  not  monistic.    Although  Mr.  James  believes  in  one  God 
for  himself,  one  moral  authority  over  himself,  we  cannot 
say  he  is  a  monotheist,  we  may  rather  apply  the  term 
"henotheist"  which  the  historians  of  Semitic  religions  have 
fashioned  to  describe  the  religious  status  of  the  tribes  of 
Israel  before  their  various  tribal  Yahvehs  were  fused  into 
the  one  national  and  world-god.     Such  conception  of  a 
limited  God  would  leave  room  for  other  spiritual  or  non- 
spiritual  organizations  in  which  other  personalities  feel 
obliged  to  cooperate  with  their  gods.    It  may  even  be  that 
like  two  star-systems  these  different  organizations  pass 


l8  THE   MONIST. 

through  each  other  and  so  cause  all  the  trouble  there  is  in 
this  world  of  ours. 

4.  There  being  now  two  wills,  the  one  sacred  from  the 
other,  two  willing  entities  which  are  only  for  short  mo- 
ments if  ever  allowed  to  fuse  into  one  whole  world,  the 
possibility  arises  that  Mr.  James  may,  on  account  of  addi- 
tional experience  of  the  outer  aspect  turn  out  to  be  either 
a  dualist  or  a  pluralist.    He  turned  pluralist.    In  this  sense 
we  will  have  to  anticipate  future  speculative  results  in 
which  his  liking  for  the  hypothesis  of  a  world-consciousness 
and  his  appreciation  of  Mr.  Prince's  Dissociation  of  a  Per- 
sonality may  issue  (/.  of  Phil.,  vol.  Ill,  p.  657).     So  far 
he  has  expressed  only  his  firm  belief  that  our  human  ex- 
perience is  not  the  highest  form  of  experience  and  that 
higher  powers  exist. 

5.  and  last,  these  two  wills,  in  a  way  sacred  from  each 
other,  are  in  the  spiritual  vision  experienced  as  moral  wills, 
as  personalities.     This  moral  character  makes  the  meta- 
physician an  ethical  voluntarist  or  personalist  like  Rudolph 
Eucken  of  Jena,  B.  P.  Browne  of  Boston,  L.  W.  Stern  of 
Breslau. 

THE  EMPIRICIST   AFTER   AND   IN   SPITE   OF   THE   SPIRITUAL 

VISION. 

These,  then,  are  the  five  fundamental  postulates  which 
James,  the  metaphysician,  adheres  to  in  spite  of  his  "in- 
tellectual responsibilities."  We  will  remember  that  "in- 
tellectual responsibilities"  concern  exclusively  the  external 
aspect  of  things  which  is  reducible  to  mathematical  equa- 
tions and  as  such  the  object  of  science.  But,  beside  being 
an  empiricist  in  the  new  psychological  sense,  an  empiricist 
listening  to  the  spiritual  vision,  he  claims  to  be  empiricist 
of  the  old  English  school,  after  the  vision  is  gone. 

The  empiricist,  we  are  told,  belongs  to  the  tough-minded 
"whose  Alpha  and  Omega  are  facts.  Behind  the  bare 


WILLIAM  JAMES,,  THE  PRAGMATIST.  IQ 

phenomenal  facts.  . .  .there  is  nothing"  (Pragm.,  p.  262). 
The  tough-minded  accuse  the  tender-minded  of  taking  the 
mere  name  of  a  fact  and  clapping  it  behind  the  fact  as  the 
ground  of  the  fact  (Pragm.,  p.  262) ;  they  reject  the  notion 
of  an  "absolute  edition  of  the  world"  or  "eternal  edition 
of  the  universe"  (Pragm.,  p.  273).  So  far  as  James,  the 
empiricist,  objects  to  a  static,  ready  made  ideal  world  be- 
yond our  finite  experience,  he  is  plainly  an  evolutionist  and 
cannot  help  looking  at  the  world  as  a  dynamic  flux.  So 
far,  however,  as  he  insists  on  facts,  he  must  mean  both 
sense-experience  and  spiritual  experience ;  the  latter  as  the 
ultimate  interpretation  he  imposes  on  sense-experience, 
allowing  even  the  mystical  bath  some  authority  for  this 
interpretation.  *  *  * 

Now,  the  ultimate  interpretation  of  the  universe,  author- 
ized by  the  rare  moments  of  ecstasy,  and  sustained  as  an 
after-effect  of  them,  is  with  Mr.  James  (i)  voluntaristic 
and  ethical,  or  personal.  This  metaphysical  attitude  is 
so  enthusiastically  taken  by  Mr.  James  that  he  cannot 
sympathize  with  the  intellectualists  who  think  they  may 
know  it  all;  and,  in  a  kind  of  antipathy,  he  qualifies  them 
as  "guileless  thorough-fed  thinkers,"  as  "well-fed  philos- 
ophy-professors who  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  speculate 
because  a  safe  institution  has  taken  care  of  them  and  looks 
out  for  their  future  welfare."  To  account  for  such  an- 
tipathy one  must  assume  that  pragmatist  and  intellectualist 
differ  in  some  of  their  instinctive  reactions,  in  their  likes 
and  dislikes.  James,  the  pragmatist,  is  so  much  in  love 
with  the  volitional  aspect  of  life  that  the  only  reason  he 
can  think  of  why  anything  should  ever  come  into  our 
world  is  that  some  one  wishes  it  to  be  here  (Pragm.  p.  288) . 
Says  he:  "It  is  demanded — demanded,  it  may  be,  to  give 
relief  to  no  matter  how  small  a  fraction  of  the  world's 
mass.  This  is  living  reason  and  compared  with  it  material 
causes  and  logical  necessities  are  spectral  things." 


2O  THE  MONIST. 

Mr.  James  endorses  Carlyle's  teaching  who  said :  "Hang 
your  sensibilities ....  and  get  to  work  like  men"  (  Will,  p. 
173).  Conduct  and  not  sensibility  is  the  ultimate  fact  for 
his  recognition.  He  cannot  understand  the  willingness 
to  act,  no  matter  how  we  feel  without  the  belief  that  acts 
are  really  good  and  bad.  He  cannot  understand  the  belief 
that  an  act  is  bad  without  regret  at  its  happening.  He 
cannot  understand  regret  without  the  admission  of  real 
genuine  possibilities  in  the  world  (Will,  p.  175).  Con- 
vinced that  the  moral  world  is  ultimate  reality,  he  rejects 
a  deterministic  view  of  life  (  Will,  p.  177). 

I  find  it  hard  to  understand  Mr.  James  here,  for  I 
am  myself  rather  inclined  like  Hegel  and  Renan  to  take 
the  strictly  dramatic  point  of  view  and  treat  the  whole 
thing  as  a  great  unending  romance  which  the  spirit 
of  the  universe,  striving  to  realize  its  own  content,  is  eter- 
nally thinking  out  and  representing  to  itself  (  Will,  p.  170) . 
But  two  lines  of  thought  suggest  themselves  to  me  as 
likely  to  be  helpful  in  getting  at  the  secret  of  such  mental 
constitution  as  that  of  the  ethical  voluntarist, — boyhood 
philosophy  and  tribal  ethics. 

In  coming  across  the  strange  demand  for  the  revival  of 
a  dualistic  religion  in  James  Mill  and  the  final  dualistic 
attitude  of  John  Stuart  Mill,  it  occurred  to  me  that  I  had 
noticed  the  same  reasoning  in  boys.  The  boy  unconsciously 
interprets  by  his  tribal  ethics  the  behavior  of  the  universe 
toward  him.  His  ethics  like  the  ethics  of  the  primitive 
tribe  which  he  onto-genetically  repeats,  demands  justice 
— justice  meaning  that  each  party  to  the  contract  give  the 
equivalent  for  value  received. 

The  prophets  of  Israel  are  an  example  for  such  philos- 
ophizing in  so  far  as  they  judge  Yahveh's  behavior  towards 
Israel  from  their  tribal  ethics.  A  boy  may  still  reason  that 
way.  But  how  is  it  possible  that  adult  Anglo-Saxon  think- 
ers of  to-day  should  make  the  same  postulate  after  phi- 


WILLIAM  JAMES,  THE  PRAGMATIST.  21 

losophy  has  flourished  for  so  many  centuries?  Maybe  it 
was  because  of  tribal  ethics  again  or  because  of  the  polit- 
ical conditions  and  ideals  of  their  democratic  surroundings 
that  these  men  turned  dualists. 

We  philosophers  of  continental  Europe  are  descendants 
of  people  who  have  lived  for  ever  so  long  under  an  aristo- 
cratic regime.  We  are  used  to  autocratic,  patriarchal, 
more  or  less  arbitrary  rule,  and  for  that  reason,  it  may  be 
that  we  somehow  outgrow  boyhood-postulates  when  life 
teaches  us  better,  and  easily  admit  that  we  may  not  under- 
stand the  wisdom  of  God's  conduct  towards  us ;  we  calmly 
conclude,  it  may  be  right  after  all  or  ecstatically  proclaim 
the  rationality  of  all  being ;  we  do  not  use  at  all  the  term 
justice  in  our  dealings  with  the  supreme  ruler.  Even  in 
my  "rare  moments"  I  have  never  realized  God  except  as 
the  arbitrary  master  of  my  life  whom  I  had  better  obey; 
but  I  would  infer  that  in  the  "rare  moments"  of  some 
Anglo-Saxon  thinkers  like  the  two  Mills,  S.  S.  Laurie,  or 
Mr.  James,  God,  however  great  his  resources,  is  realized 
as  their  fellow-citizen,  rather  than  their  autocratic  supe- 
rior. He  is  like  the  chosen  king  of  early  Germanic  society, 
or  the  official  representative  and  leader  of  modern  democ- 
racy. 

*       *       * 

If  thus  the  tribal  or  democratic  interpretation  of  the 
universe  is  made  ultimate,  it  is  only  natural  (2)  that  the 
empiricist  turns  dualistic  pluralist  as  soon  as  he  emotionally 
experiences  human  sufferings.  Emotionally  to  experience 
human  sufferings  means  for  me  that,  when  the  animating 
mood  comes  over  a  man,  he  will  reason  from  analogy  to 
suffering  personality  by  way  of  emotions  closely  coordi- 
nated with  generic  images  of  his  own  suffering  body.  Now 
every  one  who  knows  Mr.  James  will  easily  admit  that  his 
coordination  of  sympathetic  reactions  works  more  readily 
than  that  of  many  another  professor  or  "philister"  for  that 


22  THE   MONIST. 

matter.  He  scoffs  at  Leibnitz's  feeble  grasp  of  reality, 
and  the  optimism  of  present-day  rationalism  sounds  just 
as  shallow  to  his  mind  (Pragm.,  p.  27).  He  sides  rather 
with  the  anarchistic  writer  Morrison  F.  Swift  who  paints 
a  dark  picture  of  our  civilized  regime  in  Hitman  Submis- 
sion. And  from  his  strenuous  point  of  view,  life  "feels  like 
a  real  fight — as  if  there  were  something  really  wild  in  the 
universe"  (Will,  p.  61) ;  he  cannot  help  taking  "the  uni- 
verse to  be  really  dangerous  and  adventurous"  (Pragm., 

P-  295). 

*       *       # 

It  is  well  in  keeping  with  the  same  point  of  view  that 
James,  the  empiricist,  reveals  himself  (3)  to  be  an  active 
optimist.  The  idea  of  God  being  "in  difficulty"  to  use  S.  S. 
Laurie's  phrase,  challenges  all  that  is  chivalrous  and  noble 
in  man  to  cooperation.  Not  being  able  to  see  why  the  very 
existence  of  an  invisible  world  may  not  depend  on  the 
personal  response  which  any  one  of  us  may  make  to  the 
religious  appeal;  not  knowing  what  the  sweat  and  blood 
and  tragedy  of  this  life  mean,  unless  they  mean  that  God 
himself  may  draw  vital  strength  and  increase  of  very  being 
from  our  fidelity;  he  feels  that  we,  with  all  our  idealities 
and  faithfulnesses,  are  needed  to  redeem  the  universe 
(  Will,  p.  6 1 ).  With  the  fighting  spirit  of  the  crusader  and 
the  adventurous  Norseman,  he  likes  the  call  and  feels  like 
"a  happy-go-lucky  anarchistic  sort  of  creature"  (Pragm., 
p.  259).  He  violently  dislikes  anything  like  the  consum- 
mation of  progress.  The  white-robed,  harp-playing  heaven 
of  our  Sabbath-schools,  the  ladylike  tea-table  elysium  repre- 
sented in  Spencer's  Data  of  Ethics  (Will,  p.  167)  awaken 
in  him  yearnings  for  Nirvana  and  escape.  On  emerging 
from  the  spiritual  Chautauqua  into  the  dark  and  wicked 
world,  he  feels  relieved.  He  is  glad  to  take  his  chances 
again  in  the  big  outside  worldly  wilderness  with  all  its 
sins  and  sufferings.  The  element  of  precipitousness,  of 


WILLIAM  JAMES,  THE  PRAGMATIST.  23 

strength  and  strenuousness  attracts  him  (Talks,  p.  270). 
He  not  only  likes  the  fight  but  is  also  sure  of  victory,  con- 
ceiving as  the  ideal  human  state  "not  the  absence  of  vice, 
but  vice  there,  and  virtue  holding  her  by  the  throat"  (  Will, 
p.  167). 

THE  ANTMNTELLECTUALIST. 

A  metaphysician  who  is  thus  seen  to  be  ethical  volun- 
tarist,  dualistic  pluralist  and  active  optimist, —  who  is  all 
this  by  emotional- volitional  or  spiritual  experience  both 
of  the  mystical  and  the  self-conscious  kind, — such  a  meta- 
physician may  be  expected  to  be  set  heart  and  soul  against 
the  intellect  claiming  that  it  is  able  to  find  ultimate  truth 
by  brooding  over  sense-experience. 

And,  indeed,  Mr.  James  is  an  anti-intellectualist  and 
passionately  so  because  his  insight  into  the  limitation  of 
our  intellect  is  "touched  with  emotion."  In  his  spiritual 
moments  of  energetic  living  he"  has  felt  not  only  that  "in 
cooperation  with  God's  purposes.  .  .must  lie  the  real  mean- 
ing of  our  destiny,"  but  also  that  it  does  not  lie  "in  any 
chimerical  speculative  conquest  of  him,  in  any  theoretic 
drinking  of  him  up."  He  has  felt  "as  if  there  were  some- 
thing diseased  and  contemptible,  yea,  vile,  in  theoretic 
grubbing  and  brooding."  Therefore  he  takes  very  little 
stock  in  any  kind  of  metaphysical  speculation  and  thinks 
it  "more  than  probable  that  our  power  of  moral  and  voli- 
tional response  to  the  nature  of  things  will  be  the  deepest 
organ  of  communication  therewith  we  shall  ever  possess" 
(Will,  pp.  74,  140). 

Having  so  far  traced  his  anti-intellectual  empiricism 
back  to  the  teleological  vision,  we  might  try  to  go  farther 
back  to  the  peculiarities  of  his  psycho-physical  constitu- 
tion. Taking,  then,  the  vision  as  the  conscious  com- 
pletion of  his  mental  constitution,  we  may  seek  the  key 
to  the  secret  in  such  a  hypertrophy  of  his  sensory- 


24  THE   MONIST. 

motor  area  which  we  might  expect  to  find  in  the  Cru- 
sader, the  Norman  conqueror,  the  reformer,  the  great 
soldier,  the  administrator,  the  engineer,  and  in  all  people 
who  think  in  terms  of  motion.*  Going  still  further  we  may 
finally  see  a  causal  connection  between  his  evolutionistic 
tendencies  and  the  special  structure  of  that  brain  area. 
That  would  account  for  the  pragmatist's  dislike  of  any 
static  philosophy  as  expressive  of  the  "inward  remediless- 
ness"  of  life's  tragedies,  for  his  dislike  of  verbal  solutions, 
useless  questions,  and  metaphysical  abstractions;  for  his 
attitude  of  looking  away  from  first  things,  principles,  meta- 
physical categories,  supposed  necessities.  It  would  account 
for  his  inability  to  understand  "why  from  Plato  and  Aris- 
totle downward  philosophers  should  have  vied  with  each 
other  in  scorn  of  the  knowledge  of  the  particular  and  in 
adoration  of  the  general"  (Psych.,  I,  p.  479). 

These  anti-intellectual  tendencies  pure  and  simple  will, 
I  suppose,  not  be  difficult  to  interpret,  as  soon  as  experi- 
mental psychology  is  in  a  position  to  find  out  more  about 
the  psycho-physical  make-up  of  an  individual  pragmatist 
than  Edouard  Toulouse  established  regarding  the  intel- 
lectualist  Zola  (  Emile  Zola,  Enquete  niedico-psychologique, 
I,  Paris,  1896). 

But  it  is  more  difficult  to  account  for  a  certain  bitter- 
ness of  feeling  that  pervades  many  of  the  statements 
against  the  believer  in  metaphysical  speculation.  If  the 
pragmatic  scientist  recognizes  the  existence  of  the  tender- 
minded  type  of  philosophers  and  accounts  for  their  favorite 
intellectual  view  of  life  by  the  hypothesis  that  all  mentality, 
including  every  philosophy,  is  reflex-action,  would  one  ex- 
pect the  pragmatic  metaphysician  to  turn  dogmatist  and 
refuse  his  opponents  the  right  of  existence?  Instead  of 
showing  pragmatic  tolerance,  Mr.  James  represents  Renan 

*  I  wonder  whether  the  percentage  of  infinitive  nouns  used  is  not  far 
greater  with  the  dynamic  philosopher  than  with  the  static  type ! 


WILLIAM  JAMES,  THE  PRAGMATIST.  25 

as  "playing  the  coquette  between  the  craven  unmanliness 
of  his  Philosophic  Dialogues  and  the  butterfly  optimism 
of  his  Souvenirs  de  jeunesse"  (Will,  p.  171).  He  con- 
siders the  theologian's  deduction  of  God's  attributes  but  a 
"shuffling  and  matching  of  pedantic  dictionary  adjectives, 
aloof  from  morals,  aloof  from  human  needs"  (Far.,  p. 
446).  Even  if  "from  the  point  of  view  of  practical  religion 
the  metaphysical  monster  which  they  (the  theologians) 
offer  to  our  worship  is  an  absolutely  worthless  invention 
of  the  scholarly  mind"  (Far.,  p.  477),  even  if  to  know  that 
"his  (God's)  happiness  is  anyhow  absolutely  complete" 
does  not  "assist  me  to  plan  my  behavior,"  (Far.  p.  445), — 
why  may  not  such  theology  be  "touched  with  emotion," 
be,  as  he  admits  in  the  very  flagrant  case  of  Cardinal  New- 
man, worth  something  to  minds  of  a  type  different  from 
the  pragmatisms?  And,  since  we  as  pragmatic  scientists 
must  respect  any  philosophy  as.  necessary  reflex-action  of 
the  individual  author,  even  the  philosophy  of  the  well-fed 
professor,  we  have  no  longer  any  right  to  complain  of  the 
verbal  and  empty  character  of  philosophy  (Pragm.,  p.  100) , 
because  it  is  not  verbal  and  empty  for  the  individual  author 
and  his  sympathizers. 

Thus  the  bitter  feeling  and  the  intolerance  displayed 
against  the  intellectualist  will  be  a  puzzle  to  me  as  long- 
as  we  are  not  allowed  a  detailed  account  of  the  mental 
development  of  Mr.  James,  the  metaphysician.  Or  does 
the  solution  lie  in  our  pragmatist's  refusal  to  distinguish 
between  the  scientific  treatment  and  the  teleological  treat- 
ment of  the  world  about  us?  Take  for  instance  his  rejec- 
tion of  modern  sociology  as  causing  the  most  pernicious 
and  immoral  fatalism  because  it  talks  about  laws  and  pre- 
determined tendencies  without  giving  credit  to  the  free 
moral  individuality !  But  is  it  not  a  fact  that  the  universe 
behaves  according  to  certain  unchanging  rules  ?  And  does 
not  man  do  well  to  discern  these  iron-bound  rules  and 


26  THE   MONIST. 

regulations  and  to  govern  his  life  accordingly?  I  expect 
that  this  is  true  pragmatism,  but  that  does  not  mean,  that 
there  may  not  be  possible  a  wider  outlook  and  another 
interpretation  of  life,  comprising  the  world  about  us  and 
within  us:  the  emotional-volitional  or  spiritual  interpreta- 
tion! 

Therefore  1  repeat  my  petition  addressed  above  to  Mr. 
James,  the  pragma tist,  that  he  consider, 

i.  whether  one  had  not  better,  for  justice's  sake,  keep 
the  business  of  the  pragmatic  scientist,  who  reduces  all 
systems  of  experience  to  reflex-action,  apart  from  that  of 
the  pragmatic  metaphysician,  who  evolves  a  system  of 
ethical  voluntarism  for  himself  and  his  sympathizers; 

and  2.  whether  he  had  not  better  distinguish  between 
intellectual  truths  of  the  outer  aspect  and  spiritual  truths 
imposed  upon  both  the  outer  and  inner  aspect  of  life.  Sci- 
ence would  then  uphold  her  old  claim  of  being  true  for  all; 
and  metaphysics,  being  a  private  affair,  would  rank  with 
belles  letters  and  theology  and  be  held  fit  for  the  few  that 
sympathize,  or  can  make  Lipps's  Einiuhlung  with  the 

author. 

EDWIN  TAUSCH. 

WILLAMETTE  UNIVERSITY,  SALEM,  ORE. 

P.  S.  I  am  not  one  of  Professor  James's  pupils.  Nevertheless  I  have 
sufficient  reason  not  only  to  respect  but  also  to  admire  the  man,  the  writer 
and  the  scientist.  I  hope,  however,  that  the  article  shows  me  unwilling  "to 
rest  in  admiration"  like  an  intellectualist  before  his  Absolute, — an  attitude 
which  would  be  anathema  with  the  pragmatist.  Or  to  be  plain,  this  small  con- 
tribution to  the  history  of  philosophy  is  meant  to  help  along  the  scientific 
treatment  of  matters  philosophic. 

Now  every  one  of  my  readers  is  in  the  lucky  position  to  further  the  same 
cause.  All  I  have  been  able  to  suggest  for  the  interpretation  of  Mr.  James's 
philosophy  has  come  to  me  from  the  analysis  of  many  autobiographical  docu- 
ments. To  understand  a  hundred  thinkers  of  the  past  takes  the  intimate 
knowledge  of  a  thousand  living  ones  who  are  willing  to  use  a  little  intro- 
spection and  to  jot  down  a  few  fragmentary  statements.  The  reader  will 
therefore  greatly  oblige  me  if  he  writes  about  those  periods  in  his  past  life 
when  he  was  perplexed  over  the  meaning  of  his  own  life  and  the  world  about 
him;  likewise  about  the  times  and  occasions,  if  any,  in  which  a  former  view 
of  his  relation  to  God  and  fellowmen  was  confirmed,  or  a  new  prospect  opened 
before  his  inner  vision.  It  would  be  important  to  add  the  age  at  the  time  of 
the  experience,  to  state  the  circumstances  that  may  have  brought  it  on,  and 
to  describe  the  peculiar  feelings  that  accompanied  it. 


THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  ORIGIN   OF  RELIGION. 

I.   THE  ORIGIN   OF  THE   IDEAS   OF  GHOSTS,   NATURE-BEINGS 

AND  CREATORS. 

IT  has  been  the  habit  of  most  students  of  the  origin  of 
religion  to  concern  themselves  exclusively  with  the 
origin  of  the  god-idea,  as  if  belief  in  the  existence  of  gods 
was  identical  with  religion.  They  have  ignored  its  other 
essential  components,  the  motives  and  the  feelings.  But 
the  limitation  of  the  problem  of  "origin  to  that  of  the  god- 
idea  is  not  entirely  amiss.  For  there  are  neither  specifically 
religious  motives,  nor  specifically  religious  feelings.  Any 
and  every  human  need  and  longing  may,  at  some  stage  or 
other,  become  a  spring  of  religion,  and  conversely  the 
feelings  and  emotions  met  with  in  any  form  of  religion 
appear  also  in  non-religious  experience.  As  to  the  prac- 
tical means  of  securing  the  favor  of  the  gods,  it  is  agreed 
that  they  were  at  the  beginning  essentially  the  same  as 
those  men  were  already  in  the  habit  of  using  in  their  rela- 
tions with  their  fellow-men.  It  is  the  power  with  which 
man  thinks  himself  in  relation,  and  through  whom  he  en- 
deavors to  secure  the  gratification  of  his  desires,  which 
alone  is  distinctive  of  religious  life.  And  so  the  origin  of 
the  idea  of  gods,  though  not  identical  with  the  origin  of 
religion,  is  at  any  rate  its  central  problem. 

All  living  savages  known  to  us  believe  in  ghosts,  in 
spirits,  and,  perhaps,  also  in  particular  beings  risen  to  the 


28  THE    MONIST 

dignity  of  gods.    Whence  these  ideas  of  unseen  personal 
beings  ?    They  may  be  traced  to  four  independent  sources. 

1 i )  States  of  temporary  loss  of  consciousness — trances, 
swoons,  sleep,  —  seem  in  themselves  sufficient  to  suggest 
to  ignorant  observers  the  existence  of  "doubles,"  i.  e., 
of  beings  dwelling  within  the  body,  animating  it,  and  able 
to  absent  themselves  from  it  for  a  time  or  permanently. 
These  alleged  beings  have  been  called  "ghosts"  or  "souls." 

(2)  Apparitions  in  sleep,  in  the  hallucinations  of  fever, 
of  insanity,  or  otherwise,  of  persons  still  living  or  dead, 
seem  also  sufficient  to  lead  to  a  belief  in  ghosts  and  in 
survival  after  death. 

These  two  distinct  classes  of  facts  have  no  doubt  coope- 
rated in  the  production  of  the  belief  in  ghosts,  so  that  I  shall 
refer  to  them  in  the  sequel  as  the  double  origin  of  the 
ghost-belief. 

Echoes  and  reflections  in  water  and  polished  surfaces 
may  have  played  a  subsidiary  role  in  the  establishment 
or  confirmation  of  the  belief  in  ghosts  and  in  spirits. 

(3)  The  personification  of  striking  natural  phenomena, 
tornadoes,  thunder,  sudden  spring-vegetation.  The  report 
of  Tanner  that  one  night  Picheto  (a  North  American 
chief),  becoming  much  alarmed  at  the  violence  of  a  storm, 
got  up,  offered  some  tobacco  to  the  thunder  and  entreated 
it  to  stop,  should  not  excite  surprise  even  though  it  should 
refer  to  the  lowest  savage.  There  is,  of  course,  a  long  way 
between  the  sudden,  temporary,  and  isolated  personifica- 
tion of  a  natural  phenomenon  and  the  stable  and  general- 
ized belief  in  the  existence  of  personal  agents  behind  vis- 
ible nature.  What  we  mean  to  assert  here  is  merely  that 
the  systematized  belief  can  have  arisen  out  of  the  impulsive 
and  occasional  personification  of  awe-striking  and  fright- 
ening spectacles. 

(4)  Many  persons  have  observed  with  surprise  the 
apparition  in  young  children  of  the  problem  of  creation. 


THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  ORIGIN  OF  RELIGION.  29 


A  child  notices  a  curiously  shaped  stone  and  asks  who 
made  it.  He  is  told  that  it  was  formed  in  the  stream  by 
the  water.  Then,  suddenly,  he  throws  out  in  quick  succes- 
sion, questions  that  are  as  much  exclamations  of  astonish- 
ment as  queries,  "Who  made  the  stream,  who  the  mountain, 
who  the  earth?''  The  necessity  of  a  Maker  is  no  doubt 
borne  in  upon  the  savage  at  a  very  early  time,  not  upon 
every  member  of  a  tribe,  but  upon  some  peculiarly  gifted 
individual  who  imparts  to  his  fellows  the  awe-striking  idea 
of  a  mysterious,  all-powerful,  Creator.  The  form  under 
which  the  Creator  is  imagined  is,  of  course,  derived  from 
the  beings  with  which  his  senses  have  made  the  savage 
familiar. 

In  what  chronological  order  did  the  three  kinds  of 
unseen  beings  appear  ?  Which  came  first,  ghosts,  nature- 
beings  or  creators  ?  Our  present  knowledge  does  not  pro- 
vide an  answer  to  this  query.  But  this  one  may  venture 
to  affirm,  they  need  not  have  appeared  in  the  same  order 
everywhere.  It  is  conceivable  that  among  certain  groups 
of  men  the  idea  of  a  creator  first  attained  clearness  and 
influence,  while  elsewhere  the  idea  of  ghosts  implanted  itself 
before  the  others. 

A  question  of  greater  importance  to  the  student  of  the 
origin  of  religion  is  that  of  the  lineage  of  the  first  god  or 
gods,  i.  e.,  of  the  first  unseen,  personal,  agents  with  whom 
men  entered  into  relations  definite  and  influential  enough 
to  deserve  the  name  religion.  Are  they  descended  from 
ghosts,  or  are  they  nature-beings,  or  creators  ?  I  say  "de- 
scended'' from  ghosts,  for  ghosts  have  not  originally,  all 
the  qualities  required  of  a  divinity.  They  are  at  first 
hardly  greater  than  men,  though  somewhat  different.  They 
must  be  magnified  and  differentiated  from  human  beings 
if  they  are  to  generate  the  religious  attitude.  A  compari- 
son of  the  double-source  of  the  ghost-belief  with  the  source 
of  the  belief  in  nature-beings  suggests  the  following  re- 


3O  THE   MONIST. 

marks.  Phenomena  belonging  to  classes  one  and  two  ne- 
cessarily lead  to  a  belief  in  unseen  manlike  beings.  The 
familiar  relation  of  ghosts  with  the  tribe,  and  also  the 
great  number  of  them,  offer  a  definite  resistance  to  the 
process  of  deification.  It  is  otherwise  with  the  personified 
nature-powers,  for  they  are  not  necessarily,  like  ghosts, 
mere  dead  men  in  another  life.  In  conceiving  of  an  agent 
animating  nature,  the  imagination  is  not  limited  to  the 
thought  of  a  particular  human  being,  not  even  of  a  human 
being  at  all.  The  thunder  might  be  the  voice  of  some  mon- 
strous animal.  The  surpassing  variety,  the  magnitude  and 
magnificence  of  nature,  stimulate  the  imagination  into 
more  original  activity  than  the  apparitions  of  men  and 
women  in  dreams  or  in  trances.  For  these  reasons,  if  the 
choice  was  between  ghosts  and  nature-beings,  it  would  be 
advisable  to  favor  the  hypothesis  that  the  first  gods  were 
derived  from  the  spontaneous  personification  of  striking 
natural  events.  But  the  idea  of  a  creator  probably  takes  pre- 
cedence from  ghosts  and  nature-beings  in  the  making  of 
religion,  for  a  World-Creator  possesses  from  the  first  the 
greatness  necessary  to  the  object  of  a  cult,  and  the  creature 
who  recognizes  a  creator  can  hardly  fail  to  feel  his  rela- 
tionship to  him.  A  Maker  cannot,  moreover,  be  an  enemy 
to  those  who  issue  from  him,  but  must,  it  seems,  appear 
as  the  Great  Ancestor,  benevolently  inclined  towards  his 
offspring.  Incomparable  greatness,  creative  power,  benev- 
olence, are  as  many  attributes  favorable  to  the  appearance 
of  a  religion  in  the  high  sense  which,  as  we  shall  see,  W. 
Robertson  Smith  gives  to  the  word. 

The  order  in  which  appeared  the  three  kinds  of  unseen 
agents  is  of  considerable  importance,  for  if,  for  instance, 
the  ghost-belief  was  first,  it  seems  unavoidable  that  ghosts 
should  have  been  projected  into  natural  objects  and  used 
to  explain  natural  phenomena.  It  is  a  task  for  the  historian 
of  religion  to  trace  the  rise  of  the  idea  of  God  in  its  several 


THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  ORIGIN  OF  RELIGION.  3! 

possible  sources  and  to  indicate  in  each  particular  case  the 
contribution  of  each  source  to  the  making  of  the  earliest 
gods. 

II.  THE  ORIGINAL  EMOTION  OF  PRIMITIVE  RELIGIOUS  LIFE. 

The  failure  to  recognize  in  religion  three  functionally 
related  constituents — conation,  feeling,  and  thought — is 
responsible  for  a  confusing  use  of  the  term  "origin."  Some 
have  said  that  religion  began  with  the  belief  in  super- 
human, mysterious  beings ;  others  that  it  had  its  origin  in 
the  emotional  life,  and  these  usually  specify  fear;  while 
a  third  group  have  declared  that  its  genesis  is  to  be  found 
in  the  will-to-live.  At  this  stage  of  our  inquiry  the  reader 
realizes  no  doubt  that  these  three  utterances  are  incomplete, 
inasmuch  as  each  one  of  them  expresses  either  the  origin, 
or  the  original  form,  of  only  one  of  the  constituents  of  re- 
ligion. 

I  have  in  the  preceding  section  dealt  with  the  origin  of 
the  god-idea.  The  space  at  my  disposal  does  not  allow  me 
to  say  anything  regarding  the  rise  of  the  methods  by  which 
man  entered  in  relation  with  the  divine  beings  in  whom  he 
believes.  For  the  same  reason,  I  shall  have  to  be  very  brief 
in  dealing  with  the  original  emotional  form  of  religion. 

Two  opposed  opinions  divide  the  field.  The  more  widely 
held  is  that  fear  is  the  beginning  of  religion;  the  other, 
accepted  by  a  small  but  weighty  minority,  finds  its  starting 
point  in  a  "loving  reverence  for  known  gods/'  We  shall 
have  little  difficulty  in  arriving  at  an  understanding  of  the 
matter  in  which  these  two  views,  instead  of  opposing, 
supplement  each  other.  The  origin  of  the  two  emotions 
mentioned,  fear  and  love,  fall,  of  course,  outside  the  limits 
of  this  essay,  since  they  both  existed  before  religion. 

Hume's  conclusion,  that  "the  first  ideas  of  religion 
arose.  . .  .from  a  concern  with  regard  to  the  events  of  life 
and  fears  which  actuate  the  human  mind,"  is  maintained 


32  THE   MONIST. 

by  most  of  our  contemporaries.  Among  psychologists, 
Ribot,  for  instance,  affirms  that  "the  religious  sentiment  is 
composed  first  of  all  of  the  emotion  of  fear  in  its  different 
degrees,  from  profound  terror  to  vague  uneasiness,  due  to 
faith  in  an  unknown,  mysterious,  impalpable  Power."2 
The  fear-theory  is  well  supported  by  two  classes  of  inter- 
dependent facts  observed,  we  are  told,  in  every  uncivilized 
people:  (i)  Evil  spirits  are  the  first  to  attain  a  certain 
degree  of  definiteness;  (2)  man  enters  into  definite  rela- 
tions first  with  these  evil  spirits.  If  the  reader  will  refer 
to  The  Origin  of  Civilisation  by  Lord  Avebury  (Sir  John 
Lubbock),  3d  ed.,  pp.  212-215,  he  will  see  there  how  widely 
true  is  the  opinion  expressed  by  Schweinfurth,  "Among 
the  Bongos  of  Central  Africa  good  spirits  are  quite  un- 
recognized, and,  according  to  the  general  negro  idea,  no 
benefit  can  ever  come  from  a  spirit."  In  many  other  tribes 
good  spirits  are  known,  but  the  savage  always  ''pays 
more  attention  to  deprecating  the  wrath  of  the  evil  than 
securing  the  favor  of  the  good  beings."  The  tendency 
is  to  let  the  good  spirits  alone,  because,  being  good,  they 
will  do  us  good  of  themselves,  just  as  evil  spirits  do  us  harm 
unsolicited. 

Shall  we,  then,  admit  the  fear-origin  of  religion  ?  Yes, 
provided  it  be  understood  ( i )  that  fear  represents  only  one 
of  the  three  constituents  of  religion,  (2)  that  is  is  not  in  vir- 
tue of  a  particular  quality  or  property  that  fear  is  the  primi- 
tive emotional  form  of  religion,  and  (3)  that  this  admission 
is  not  intended  to  imply  the  impossibility  of  religion  having 
ever  anywhere  begun  with  aggressive  or  tender  emotions 
Regarding  the  second  reservation,  it  should  be  understood 
that  the  making  of  religion  requires  nothing  found  in  fear 
that  is  not  also  present  in  other  emotions.  If  tender 
emotions  are  not  conspicuous  at  the  dawn  of  religion,  it  is 
only  because  it  so  happens  that  the  circumstances  in  which 

*  The  Psychology  of  the  Emotions,  p.  309. 


THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  ORIGIN  OF  RELIGION.  33 

the  least  cultured  peoples  known  to  us  live,  are  such  as  to 
keep  fear  in  the  foreground  of  consciousness.  Fear  was 
the  first  of  the  well-organized  emotional  reactions.  It 
antedates  the  human  species,  and  appears  to  this  day  first 
in  the  young  animal,  as  well  as  in  the  infant.  No  doubt, 
before  the  protective  fear-reaction  could  have  been  estab- 
lished, the  lust  of  life  had  worked  itself  out  into  aggressive 
habits,  those  for  the  securing  of  food,  for  instance.  But 
these  desires  did  not,  as  early  as  in  the  case  of  fear,  give 
rise  to  any  emotional  reaction  possessing  the  constancy, 
definiteness,  and  poignancy  of  fear.  The  place  of  fear  in 
primitive  religion  is,  then,  due  not  to  its  intrinsic  qualities, 
but  simply  to  circumstances  which  made  it  appear  first  as 
a  well-organized  instinct-emotion  vitally  connected  with  the 
maintainance  of  life.  It  is  for  exactly  the  same  reason  that 
the  dominant  emotion  in  the  relations  of  uncivilized  men 
with  each  other  and,  still  more  evidently  so,  of  wild  animals 
with  each  other,  is  usually  that  of  fear. 

When  I  say  that  fear  need  not  have  been  the  original 
religious  emotion,  I  have  in  mind  the  possibility  of  groups 
of  primitive  men  having  lived  in  circumstances  so  favor- 
able to  peace  and  safety  that  fear  was  not  very  often  pres- 
ent with  them.  This  is  not  a  preposterous  supposition. 
Wild  men  need  not,  any  more  than  wild  animals,  have 
found  themselves  so  situated  as  to  be  kept  in  a  constant 
state  of  fright.  If  the  African  antelope  runs  for  its  life 
on  an  average  twice  a  day,  as  Sir  Galton  supposes,  the  wild 
horse  on  the  South  American  plains,  before  the  hunter  ap- 
peared on  his  pastures,  ran  chiefly  for  his  pleasure.  Trav- 
elers have  borne  testimony  to  the  absence  of  fear  in  birds 
inhabiting  certain  regions.  But,  it  may  be  asked,  would 
religion  have  come  into  existence  under  these  peaceful 
circumstances?  A  life  of  relative  ease,  comfort,  and  se- 
curity is  not  precisely  conducive  to  the  establishment  of 
practical  relations  with  gods.  Why  should  happy  and  self- 


34  THE  MONIST. 

sufficient  men  look  to  unseen,  mysterious  beings  for  an 
assistance  not  really  required?  Under  these  circumstances 
the  unmixed  type  of  fear-religion  would  never  have  come 
into  existence.  Religion  would  have  appeared  relatively  late 
and,  from  the  first,  in  a  nobler  form.  In  such  peoples  a  feel- 
ing of  dependence  upon  benevolent  gocls,  regarded  probably 
as  creators  and  all-fathers,  eliciting  admiration  rather 
than  fear  or  selfish  desire,  would  have  characterized  its 
beginnings.  This  possibility  should  not  be  rejected  a  priori. 

The  other  theory  is  well  represented  by  W.  Robertson 
Smith.  He  denies  that  the  attempt  to  appease  evil  beings 
is  the  foundation  of  religion.  I  quote:  "From  the  earliest 
times  religion,  as  distinct  from  magic  and  sorcery,  ad- 
dresses itself  to  kindred  and  frendly  beings,  who  may  in- 
deed be  angry  with  their  people  for  a  time,  but  are  always 
placable  except  to  the  enemies  of  their  worshipers  or  to 
renegade  members  of  the  community.  It  is  not  with  a 
vague  fear  of  unknown  powers,  but  with  a  loving  reverence 
for  known  gods  who  are  knit  to  their  worshipers  by  strong 
bonds  of  kinship,  that  religion,  in  the  only  sense  of  the 
word,  begins."3 

One  may  agree  with  Robertson  Smith  without  denying 
that  practices  intended  to  protect  oneself  against  evil  spir- 
its preceded  the  establishment  of  affectionate  relations 
with  benevolent  powers.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  our  author 
admits  this  fully.  What  he  denies  is  that  the  attempt  to 
propitiate,  in  dread,  evil  spirits,  is  religion.  It  cannot  be 
doubted  that  the  inner  experience  as  well  as  the  outer 
attitude  and  behavior  of  a  person  are  substantially  different 
when  he  seeks  to  conciliate  a  radically  evil  being  than  when 
he  communes  with  a  fundamentally  benevolent  one.  Yet 
in  both  cases  an  anthropopathic  relation  with  a  personal 
being  is  established.  In  this  respect,  both  stand  opposed 
to  magical  behavior.  This  common  element  is  so  funda- 

3  The  Religion  of  the  Semites,  p.  55. 


THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  ORIGIN  OF  RELIGION.  35 

mental  that  it  seems  to  us  advisable  to  make  the  name 
religion  include  both  types  of  relation.  And  since  they 
differ,  nevertheless,  in  important  respects,  the  phrases 
"negative  religion"  may  be  used  to  designate  man's  deal- 
ings with  radically  bad  spirits,  and  "positive  religion"  his 
relations  with  fundamentally  benevolent  ones. 

Positive  religion  is  at  first  not  at  all  free  from  fear. 
The  benevolent  gods  are  prompt  to  wrath,  and  cruelly 
avenge  their  broken  laws.  The  more  striking  development 
of  religious  life  is  the  gradual  substitution  of  love  for  fear 
in  worship.  This  is  one  more  reason  for  not  completely 
dissociating  the  propitiation  of  evil  spirits  from  the  wor- 
ship of  kindly  gods. 

JAMES  H.  LEUBA. 

BRYN  MAWR,  PA. 


A 


SOME  AMAZING  MAZES. 

A  SECOND  CURIOSITY. 

phenomenon  easier  to  understand  depends  on  the  fact 
that,  in  counting  round  and  round  a  cycle  of  53  num- 
bers, y— i  =  =*=  30-  ( For  302  =  900  =  1 7  •  53  —  i . )  This, 
likewise,  may  be  exhibited  in  the  form  of  a  "trick."  You 
begin  with  a  pack  of  52  playing-cards  arranged  in  regular 
order.  For  this  purpose,  it  is  necessary  to  assign  ordinal 
numbers  to  the  four  suits.  It  seems  appropriate  to  number 
the  spade-suit  as  i,  because  its  ace  carries  the  maker's 
trade-mark.  I  would  number  the  heart-suit  2,  because  the 
pips  are  partially  cleft  in  two;  the  club-suit  3,  because  a 
"club,"  as  the  French  term  trefle  reminds  us,  is  a  trefoil; 
and  the  diamond-suit  as  4  or  o,  because  the  pips  are  quadri- 
laterals, and  counting  round  and  round  a  cycle  of  4,  4  =  o. 
But  it  is  convenient,  in  numbering  the  cards,  to  employ 
the  system  of  arithmetical  notation  whose  base  is  13.  It 
will  follow  that  if  the  cards  of  each  suit  are  to  follow  the 
order  I23456789XJQK,  the  king  of  each 
suit  must  be  numbered  as  if  it  were  a  zero-card  of  the 
following  suit.  The  inconvenience  of  this  is  very  trifling 
compared  with  the  convenience  of  directly  availing  oneself 
of  a  regular  system  of  notation;  for  the  exhibitor  of  the 
"trick"  will  have  many  a  "long  multiplication"  to  perform 
in  his  head,  as  will  shortly  appear.  Another  slight  incon- 
venience is  that  the  cycle  of  numeration  must  be  fifty-three, 
or  44 ,  which,  or  its  highest  possible  multiple,  must  be  sub- 


SOME  AMAZING  MAZES. 


37 


tracted  from  every  product  that  exceeds  4*.  It  is  to  be 
remembered  that  o ,  4  ,<?,*,  are  used  as  nothing  but  other 
shaped  characters  for  o,  i,  2,  3,  respectively.  Thirteen  is 
the  base  of  numeration,  but  fifty-three,  or  4  *  ,  is  the 
cycle  of  numeration.  I  adopt  o  ,  rather  then  K,  as  the 
zero-sign  in  order  to  avoid  denoting  the  king  of  diamonds 
by  4  K,  etc.  In  order  to  exhibit  the  trick  in  the  highest 
style,  the  performer  should  have  this  multiplication  table 


0  4 

0  9 

0  * 

0  4 

0  5 

0  6 

0  7 

0  8 

0  9 

010 

0  J 

0  Q 

Oca 

OPI 

V 

* 

O 

s 

%4 

0  4 

0  6 

0  9 

0  Q 

4  V 

4  5 

4  8 

4  J 

V  4 

V  4 

9?  7 

910 

0  4 

0  8 

OQ 

*  4 

*  7 

4  J 

9?  V 

<?  6 

SMO 

4  4 

4  5 

4  9 

0  5 

010 

4  V 

4  7 

4  Q 

9  4 

V  9 

A  4 

4  6 

4  J 

44 

0  <? 

4  8 

0  7 

0  6 

OQ 

4  5 

*  J 

9  4 

91O 

4~3 

4  9 

4  V 
0  4 

4  8 

0  7 

5  4 
4  0 

5  7 
4  6 

0  7 

4  4 

4  8 

V  V 

V  9 

4  4 

*10 

4  4 

0  * 

4  J 

010 

5  5 

4  4 

5  Q 
4  J 

6  6 

9  5 

0  8 

4  * 

*  J 

9  6 

4  * 

*  9 

4  4 
0  * 

4Q 

0  J 

5  7 
4  6 

6  V 
<9  4 

61O 

<9  9 

7  5 
4  4 

0  9 

4  5 

V  4 

9?  10 

*  6 

4  9? 
0  * 

4  J 

010 

5  7 
4  6 

6  4 

V  V 

6Q 

V  J 

7  8 
4  7 

8  4 

0  9 

010 

4  7 

9  4 

*  4 

*  J 

4  8 

07 

5  5 
4  4 

6  <3 

<9  * 

6  Q 

V  J 

7  9 
4  8 

8  6 

0  4 

94 

4  4 

0  J 

4  9 

9  7 

*  5 

44 

0  9 

5  4 
*  O 

5Q 
*  J 

610 

<?  9 

7  8 
4  7 

8  6 

0  4 

9  4 

4  V 

109 

9  0 

OQ 

4  J 

910 

4  9 

4  8 

0  7 

5  7 
4  6 

6  6 

<?  5 

7  5 
4  4 

8  4 

0  <9 

94 

4  4 

10<? 
V  0 

J  4 

9Q 

by  heart  in  which  I  have  been  forced  to  put  10  in  place  of  x 
most  incongruously  simply  because  I  am  informed  that 
the  latter  would  transcend  the  resources  of  the  printing- 
office. 

Yet  I  do  it  quite  passably  without  possessing  that  ac- 
complishment. In  those  squares  of  the  multiplication- 
table  where  two  lines  are  occupied,  the  upper  gives  the 
simple  product  in  tridecimal  notation,  and  the  lower  the 


38  THE  MONIST. 

remainder  of  this  after  subtracting  the  highest  less  mul- 
tiple of  fifty-three,  i.  e.,  of  4  * . 

In  order  to  exhibit  the  trick,  while  you  are  arranging 
the  cards  in  regular  order,  you  may  tell  some  anecdote 
which  involves  some  mention  of  the  numbers  5  and  6. 
For  instance,  you  may  illustrate  the  natural  inaptitude  of 
the  human  animal  for  mathematics,  by  saying  how  all 
peoples  use  some  multiple  of  5  as  the  base  of  numeration, 
because  they  have  5  fingers  on  a  hand,  although  any  person 
with  any  turn  for  mathematics  would  see  that  it  would  be 
much  simpler,  in  counting  on  the  fingers,  to  use  6  as  the 
base  of  numeration.  For  having  counted  5  on  the  fingers 
of  one  hand,  one  would  simply  fold  a  finger  of  the  other 
hand  for  6,  and  then  make  the  first  finger  of  the  first  hand 
to  continue  the  count.  The  object  of  telling  this  anecdote 
would  be  to  cause  the  numbers  5  and  6  to  be  uppermost  in 
the  minds  of  the  company.  But  you  must  be  very  careful 
not  at  all  to  emphasize  them ;  for  if  you  do,  you  will  cause 
their  avoidance.  The  pack  being  arranged  in  regular  se- 
quence, you  ask  the  company  into  how  many  piles  you  shall 
deal  them,  and  if  anybody  says  5  or  6,  deal  into  that  number 
of  piles.  If  they  give  some  other  number,  manifest  not  the 
slightest  shade  of  preference  for  one  number  of  piles  over 
another;  but  have  the  cards  dealt  again  and  again,  until 
you  can  get  for  the  last  card  either  +  x,  that  is,  the  ten 
of  the  second  suit,  (i.  e.,  suit  number  one;  since  the  first  suit 
is  numbered  o ,  or  zero) ,  or  <?  4 ,  the  four  of  the  third  suit,  or 
+  e ,  or  v  s .  If  you  cannot  influence  the  company  to  give 
you  any  of  the  right  numbers,  after  they  have  ordered 
several  deals,  you  can  say,  "Now  let  me  choose  a  couple  of 
numbers,"  and  by  looking  through  the  pack,  you  will  prob- 
ably find  that  one  or  other  of  those  can  be  brought  to  the 
face  of  the  pack  in  two  or  three  deals.  For  every  deal 
multiplies  the  ordinal  place  of  each  card  by  a  certain  num- 
ber, counting  round  and  round  a  cycle  of  53.  And  this 


SOME  AMAZING  MAZES. 


39 


multiplier  is  that  number  which  multiplied  by  the  number 
of  piles  in  the  deal  gives  +i  or  —  i  in  counting  round  and 
round  the  cycle  of  53.  For  it  makes  no  difference  to  which 
end  of  the  pack  the  card  is  drawn.  After  each  deal  the 
piles  are  to  be  gathered  up  according  to  the  same  rule  as 
in  the  first  "trick,"  except  that  the  first  pile  taken  must  not 
be  the  one  on  which  the  52nd  card  fell,  but  the  one  on 
which  the  53rd  would  have  fallen  if  there  had  been  53  cards 
in  the  pile.  The  last  deal  having  been  made,  you  lay  all  the 
cards  now,  backs  up,  in  4  rows  of  13  cards  in  each  row, 
leaving  small  gaps  between  the  3rd  and  4th  and  6th  and 
7th  cards  counting  from  each  end,  thus: 


po 

5       4 


K 


The  object  of  these  gaps  is  to  facilitate  the  counting 
of  the  places  from  each  end,  both  by  yourself  and  by  the 
company  of  onlookers.  If  the  first  or  last  card  is  either 
+  x  or  <?  4 ,  the  first  card  of  the  pack  will  form  the  left- 
hand  end  of  the  top  row,  and  each  successive  card  will  be 
next  to  the  right  of  the  previously  laid  card,  until  you  come 
to  the  end  of  a  row,  when  the  next  card  will  be  the  extreme 
left-hand  card  of  the  row  next  below  that  last  formed. 
But  if  the  first  or  last  card  is  either  +  e  or  <s  & ,  you  begin 
at  the  top  of  the  extreme  right-hand  column,  and  lay  down 
the  following  three  cards  each  under  the  last,  the  fifth  card 
forming  the  head  of  the  column  next  to  the  left,  and  so  on, 
the  cards  being  laid  down  in  successive  columns,  passing 
downward  in  each  column,  and  the  successive  columns 
toward  the  right  being  formed  in  regular  order. 

You  now  explain  to  the  company,  very  fully  and  clearly, 
that  the  upper  row  consists  of  the  places  of  the  diamonds ; 
and  you  count  the  places,  pointing  to  each,  thus  "Ace  of 
diamonds,  two  of  diamonds,  three;  four,  five,  six;  the 


4O  THE   MONIST. 

seven,  a  little  separated,  the  eight,  nine,  and  ten,  together ; 
then  a  little  gap,  and  the  knave,  queen,  king  of  diamonds 
together.  The  next  row  is  for  the  spades  in  the  same 
regular  order,  from  that  end  to  this,''  (you  will  not  say 
"right"  and  "left,"  because  the  spectators  will  probably 
be  at  different  sides  of  the  table,)  "next  the  hearts,  and 
last  the  clubs.  Please  remember  the  order  of  the  suits, 
diamond,"  (you  sweep  your  finger  over  the  different  rows 
successively)  "spades,  hearts,  and  clubs.  But,"  you  con- 
tinue, "those  are  the  places  beginning  at  that"  (the  up- 
per left-hand)  "corner.  In  addition,  every  card  has  a 
second  place,  beginning  at  this  opposite  corner,"  (the  lower 
right-hand  corner.)  "The  order  is  the  same;  only  you 
count  backwards,  toward  the  right  in  each  row;  and  the 
order  of  the  suits  is  the  same,  diamonds,  spades,  hearts, 
clubs;  only  the  places  of  the  diamonds  are  in  the  bottom 
row,  the  places  of  the  spades  next  above  them,  the  places 
of  the  hearts  next  above  them,  and  the  clubs  at  the  top. 
These  are  the  regular  places  for  the  cards.  But  owing  to 
their  having  been  dealt  out  so  many  times,  they  are  now, 
of  course,  all  out  of  both  their  places."  You  now  request 
one  of  the  company  (not  the  least  intelligent  of  them,) 
simply  to  turn  over  any  card  in  its  place.  Suppose  he  turns 
up  the  fifth  card  in  the  third  row.  It  will  be  either  the  <?  3 
or  4  J  .  Suppose  it  is  the  former.  Then  you  say,  "Since 
the  three  of  hearts  is  in  the  place  of  the  five  of  hearts, 
counting  from  that  corner,  it  follows  of  course"  (don't 
omit  this  phrase,  nor  emphasize  it;  but  say  it  as  if  what 
follows  were  quite  a  syllogistically  evident  conclusion,) 
"that  the  five  of  hearts  will  be  in  the  place  of  the  three 
of  hearts  counting  from  the  opposite  corner."  Thereupon, 
you  count  "Spades,  hearts :  one,  two,  three,"  and  turn  up 
the  card,  which,  sure  enough,  will  be  v  5 .  "But,"  you 
continue,  "counting  from  the  first  corner,  the  five  of  hearts 
is  in  the  place  of  the  knave  of  spades,  and  accordingly,  the 


SOME  AMAZING  MAZES.  41 

knave  of  spades  will,  of  course,  be  in  the  place  of  the  five 
of  hearts,  counting  from  the  opposite  corner."  You  count, 
first,  to  show  that  v  s  is  in  the  place  of  *  j  ,  and  then,  al- 
ways pointing-  as  you  count,  and  counting,  first  the  rows, 
by  giving  successively  the  names  of  the  suits,  "diamonds, 
spades,  hearts,"  and  then  the  places  in  the  row,  "one,  two, 
three,  four,  five,"  and  turning  up  the  card  you  find  it  to  be, 
as  predicted,  the  *  j  .  "Now,"  you  continue,  "the  knave 
of  spades  is  in  the  place  of  the  nine  of  spades  counting 
from  the  first  corner,  so  that  we  shall  necessarily  find  the 
nine  of  spades  in  the  place  of  the  knave  of  spades  counting 
from  the  opposite  corner."  You  count  as  before,  and  find 
your  prediction  verified.  [I  will  here  interrupt  the  descrip- 
tion of  the  "trick"  to  remark  that  the  number  of  different 
arrangements  of  the  fifty-two  cards  all  possessing  this 
same  property  is  thirty-eight  thousand  three  hundred  and 
eighty-two  billions  (or  millions  squared),  three  hundred 
and  seventy-six  thousand  two  hundred  and  sixtv-six  mil- 
lions, two  hundred  and  forty  thousand,  =  6  X  10  X  14  X 
18  X  22  X  26  X  30  X  34  X  38  X  42  X  46  X  50,  not  count- 
ing a  turning  over  of  the  block  as  altering  the  arrangement. 
But  of  these  only  one  arrangement  can  be  produced  by  deal- 
ing the  cards  according  to  our  general  rule.  Either  of 
the  four  simplest  arrangements  having  the  property  in 
question  will  be  obtained  by  first  laying  out  the  diamonds 
in  a  row  so  that  the  values  of  the  cards  increase  regularly 
in  passing  along  the  row  in  either  direction,  then  laying 
out  the  spades  in  a  parallel  row  either  above  or  below 
the  diamonds,  but  leaving  space  for  another  row  between 
the  diamonds  and  spades,  their  values  increasing  in  the 
counter-direction  to  the  diamonds,  then  laying  out  the 
hearts  in  a  parallel  row  close  upon  the  other  side  of  the 
diamonds,  their  values  increasing  in  the  same  direction 
as  the  spades,  and  finally  laying  out  the  clubs  between  the 


42  THE  MONIST. 

diamond-row  and  the  spade-row,  their  values  increasing 
in  the  same  direction  as  the  former. 

Not  to  let  slip  an  opportunity  for  a  logical  remark, 
let  me  note  that,  in  itself  considered,  i.  e.,  regardless  of 
their  sequence  of  values,  any  one  arrangement  of  the  cards 
is  as  simple  as  any  other  ;  just  as  any  continuous  line  that 
returns  into  itself,  without  crossing  or  touching  itself,  or 
branching,  is  just  as  simple,  in  itself,  as  any  other;  and 
relatively  to  the  sequence  of  values  of  the  cards,  only,  the 
arrangement  produced  in  "trick,"  in  which  the  value  of 
each  card  is  i  times  the  ordinal  number  of  its  place,  where 


i==  ±V  —  x>  is  ^ar  simpler  than  the  arrangement  just  de- 
scribed. But  in  calling  the  latter  arrangement  the  "sim- 
pler," I  use  this  word  in  the  sense  that  is  most  important 
in  logical  methodeutic;  namely,  to  mean  more  facile  of 
human  imagination.  We  form  a  detailed  icon  of  it  in  our 
minds  more  readily.] 

You  now  promptly  turn  down  again  the  four  cards 
that  have  been  turned  up  (for  some  of  the  company  may 
have  the  impression  that  the  proceeding  might  continue 
indefinitely;  and  you  do  not  wish  to  shatter  their  pleas- 
ing illusions,)  and  ask  how  many  piles  they  would  like 
to  have  the  cards  dealt  in  next.  If  they  mention  5  or  6, 
you  say,  "Well  we  will  deal  them  into  5  and  6.  Or  shall  we 
deal  them  into  4,  5,  6?  Or  into  2  and  7?  Take  your 
choice."  Which  ever  they  choose,  you  say,  "Now  in  what 
order  shall  I  make  the  dealings  ?"  It  makes  no  difference. 
But  how  the  cards  are  to  be  taken  up  will  be  described  be- 
low. After  gathering  the  cards  in  the  mode  described  in  the 
next  paragraph,  deal  them  out,  without  turning  the  cards  up. 
[I  have  never  tried  what  I  am  now  describing;  but  for  fear 
of  error,  I  shall  do  so  before  my  article  goes  to  press.] 
After  that,  you  say,  "Oh,  I  don't  believe  they  are  suffi- 
ciently shuffled.  I  will  milk  them."  You  proceed  to  do 
so.  That  is,  holding  the  pack  backs  up,  you  take  off  the 


SOME  AMAZING  MAZES.  43 

cards  now  at  the  top  and  bottom,  and  lay  them  backs  up, 
the  card  from  the  bottom  remaining  at  the  bottom;  and 
this  you  repeat  25  times  more,  thus  exhausting  the  pack. 
Many  persons  insist  that  the  proper  way  of  milking  the 
cards  is  to  begin  by  putting  the  card  that  is  at  the  back 
of  the  pack  at  its  face;  but  when  I  speak  of  "milking,"  I 
mean  this  not  to  be  done.  Having  milked  the  pack  three 
times,  you  count  off  the  four  top  cards  (i.  e.,  the  cards 
that  are  at  the  top  as  you  hold  the  pack  with  the  faces 
down,)  one  by  one  from  one  hand  to  the  other,  putting 
each  card  above  the  last,  so  as  to  reverse  their  positions. 
You  then  count  the  next  four  into  the  same  receiving  hand, 
under  the  four  just  taken,  so  that  their  relative  positions 
remain  the  same.  The  next  four  are  to  be  counted,  one  by 
one,  upon  the  first  four,  so  that  their  relative  positions  are 
reversed,  and  the  next  four  are  to  be  counted  into  the 
receiving  hand  under  those  it  already  holds.  So  you  pro- 
ceed alternately  counting  four  to  the  top  and  four  to  the 
bottom  of  those  already  in  the  receiving  hand,  until  the 
pack  is  exhausted.  You  then  say,  "Now  we  will  play  a  hand 
of  whist/'  You  allow  somebody  to  cut  the  cards  and  deal 
the  pack,  as  in  whist,  one  by  one  into  four  "hands,"  or 
packets,  turning  up  the  last  card  for  the  trump.  It  will  be 
found  that  you  hold  all  the  trumps,  and  each  of  the  other 
players  the  whole  of  a  plain  suit. 

I  now  go  back  to  explain  how  the  cards  are  to  be  taken 
up.  If  it  is  decided  that  the  cards  are  to  be  dealt  into  5 
and  into  6  piles,  (the  order  of  the  dealing  always  being 
immaterial,)  you  take  them  up  row  by  row,  in  consecutive 
order,  from  the  upper  left-hand  to  the  lower  right-hand  cor- 
ner. If  they  are  to  be  dealt  into  4,  5  and  6  piles,  or  into  2  and 
7  piles,  in  any  order,  you  take  them  up  column  by  column, 
from  the  upper  right-hand  to  the  lower  left-hand  corner.  The 
exact  reversal  of  all  the  cards  in  the  pack  will  make  no  differ- 
ence in  the  final  result.  They  may  also  be  taken  up  in  columns 


44  THE  MONIST. 

and  dealt  into  piles  whose  product  is  14  or  39  (as,  for  ex- 
ample, into  2  piles  and  7  piles,  or  into  3  piles  and  13  piles). 
They  may  be  taken  up  in  rows  and  dealt  into  any  number 
of  piles  whose  product  is  thirty,  or,  by  the  multiplication 
table  is  s?  4 .  The  following  are  some  of  the  sets  of  numbers 
whose  products,  counted  round  a  cycle  of  53,  equal  30: 
6-5;  17-8;  7-5-4-4;  97-3;  9-877;  9'6-6-S;  9'9'5'4;  X-8-7; 
X-9  87-6;  J-J-2;  J-8-4'4;  J'5'5'31  Q-X-X-4;  Q-X-8-5; 
Q-77-6;K-K-3;  +  X-*X-4( decimally, 23 -13 -4)  ;  *6-*4-6; 
*5-o9'oX. 

The  products  of  the  following  sets  count  round  a  cycle 
of  53  to  -30  =  23;  4-«6;  27^;  K  Q  X;  8-6-6;  9-8-4; 
X-X-s;  Q-J-7;  Q  Q  2;  S'5'5-4;  6-4-4-3;  X-97-5;  J7-6-2; 
11-7-4-3;  I3-X-6-2;  13-8-5-3;  7-6-5-5'3;  777'5'4;  97'S' 
5-2;  n-6-5-4-3;  9-8-8-5-4-4;  8-S-7-7-4-4;  11-877-2-2; 
I2-H-9-8-7-6. 

The  products  required  to  prepare  the  cards  for  being 
laid  down  column  by  column  are  *  6,  decimally  expressed, 
19;  and  <?8,  decimally  expressed,  34. 

The  following  are  some  of  the  sets  of  numbers  whose 
continued  products  are  19:  9-8;  Q-6;  5-5-5;  6-4-3;  J7'35 
13-6-5;  13-10-3;  8-7-6-4;  9-9-8-6;  J-9-5-4;  11-10-9-2;  12 
8-7-7;    13-10-8-7;    9-8-8-S-4;  10-7-7-6-5;  io-io-io-io-2: 

I277-5-5;  7'4-4-4-S;  i3'7-4-4-4-4-4-4;  4' A' A' 4' 4' 4' A' A' 4 
43.    The  following  are  sets  of  numbers  whose  continued 
product  is  34:  44-2;  *X-K;  29-3;  7-5-4;  9-3-*  <?;  9'9'S* 
X-7-2-;  J8-4;Q-X-X;  17-11-5;  17-12-9;  19-13-4;  23-11-6: 
23-13;  23-17-7;  41-3-2;  S'5-4-4-3;  977-6-3;  8-6-5-5;  9-9- 

7-7-2;  13-13-7-2;  I7-I2-9;  S-4-4-4-4;  2-2-2-2-2-2-2-2-2-2-2- 

11-107-5;  13-12-9;  23-13. 

This  "trick  may  be  varied  in  endless  ways.  For  ex- 
ample, you  may  introduce  the  derangement  that  is  the  in- 
verse of  milking.  That  is,  you  may  pass  the  cards,  one 
by  one,  from  one  hand  to  the  other,  placing  them  alter- 
nately att  he  top  and  the  bottom  of  the  cards  held  by  the 


SOME  AMAZING  MAZES.  45 

receiving  hand.  Twelve  such  operations  will  bring  the 
cards  back  to  their  original  order.  But  a  pack  of  72  cards 
would  be  requisite  to  show  all  the  curious  effects  of  this 
mode  of  derangement. 

CHARLES  SANTIAGO  SANDERS  PEIRCE. 
MILFORD,  PA. 


A  DIALOGUE  BETWEEN  AN  IDEALIST  AND  A 
NATURALIST. 

XT  ATURALIST :  So  you  think  that  if  I  had  paid  suf- 
l\l  ficient  attention  to  the  teachings  of  pure  idealism  I 
would  have  gladly  adopted  it  as  my  philosophical  creed. 
You  say  that  most  professional  philosophers,  and  many 
prominent  scientific  thinkers,  physicists  and  even  biologists, 
have  found  idealism  to  afford  the  most  satisfactory  inter- 
pretation of  nature.  I  readily  admit  that  materialistic  and 
mechanistic  views,  so  long  in  the  ascendant  among  natural- 
ists, are  superficial  and  fictitious,  and  have  definitely  proved 
to  be  untenable.  Nevertheless  the  duality  of  body  and 
mind,  under  the  name  of  psycho-physical  parallelism,  is  still 
widely  maintained  by  thoughtful  psychical  as  well  as  phys- 
ical investigators.  This  proves  that  no  kind  of  scientific 
monism  has  yet  decisively  triumphed,  and  that  the  mo- 
mentous contention  between  realistic  idealism  and  realistic 
naturalism  is  far  from  being  settled. 

The  vexed  question,  I  think,  turns  upon  whether  body 
is  rightly  conceived  as  a  mere  appearance  in  mind,  or 
whether,  on  the  contrary,  mind  itself  is  an  outcome  of 
bodily  activity.  Are  we,  all  in  all,  products  of  mind;  or 
the  reverse,  are  we,  all  in  all,  products  of  bodily  organi- 
zation? This  seems  to  me  the  decisive  question,  whose 
correct  answer  will  disclose  for  good  our  true  position  in 
this  world,  of  which  we  are  as  yet  by  no  means  certain, 
and  will  serve  us  as  supreme  guidance  for  rational  con- 


DIALOGUE  BETWEEN  IDEALIST  AND  NATURALIST,        47 

duct  in  life,  at  present  in  some  respects  still  irrationally 
erratic. 

Idealist.  It  seems  to  me  almost  impossible  not  to  rec- 
ognize, when  once  clearly  pointed  out,  that  the  content 
of  consciousness,  composed,  as  it  is,  exclusively  of  mental 
phenomena,  is  all  we  are  actually  aware  of.  It  is  obviously 
our  only  source  of  information.  Moreover  we  move  and 
act  entirely  within  its  purely  mental  sphere  among  its 
mental  representations,  urged  thereto  by  mental  feelings. 
We  get  to  know  ourselves,  and  what  is  called  the  external 
world  solely  through  conscious  or  mental  manifestation, 
through  feelings,  sensations,  perceptions,  conceptions  and 
emotions.  Cherished  memories,  exalted  imaginings,  all  man- 
ner of  ideals,  consist  altogether  of  modes  of  consciousness. 
Nature,  in  fact,  has  her  whole  being  in  consciousness.  Is  not 
the  nature  you  seem  outwardly  to  perceive  the  very  iden- 
tical nature  you  are  inwardly. aware  of?  Her  densest 
bodies,  her  so-called  material  constituents,  are  one  and  all 
of  purely  conscious  or  mental  consistency.  They  are  all 
composed  of  sensations  or  percepts,  of  nothing  but  feelings 
of  resistance  and  visions  of  shaded  and  colored  forms, 
outcomes  of  mind's  activity.  Howsoever  solid-seeming, 
however  much  outspread  in  space,  and  conceived  as  en- 
during in  time,  all  we  are  conscious  of  as  nature  melts 
impalpably  into  that  universal  spiritual  solvent  known  as 
mind.  Nature,  its  bodily  appearances  all  included,  is  then 
clearly  out  and  out  a  product  of  mental  activity. 

Nat.  It  must  be  conceded  that  what  you  say  of  our 
vision  of  nature  is  true  to  a  great  extent,  so  far  as  such 
vision  is  concerned,  and  it  is  also  deeply  significant.  How- 
ever, as  a  complete  view  of  nature,  it  is  contrary  to  what 
mankind  in  general  has  at  all  times  believed,  and  contrary 
also  to  what  you  and  all  idealists  are  relying  upon  as 
guidance  for  conduct  in  life.  Idealism  offers  itself  as  a 
consistent,  all-comprising  conception  of  nature.  Wholly 


48  THE   MONIST. 

mind-woven  as  it  is,  it  entices  its  votaries  to  spurn  the 
firm  ground  of  actual  experience,  and  to  soar  on  wings 
of  fancy  to  an  empyrean  filled  with  visions  of  all  manner 
of  ideal  perfections.  Such  idealistic  speculations  encounter 
in  their  transcendent  flight  no  imperatively  resisting  ob- 
stacles that  force  them  profitably  into  definite  salutary 
channels.  They  create  for  themselves  an  all  but  resistless 
medium  by  taking  uncertain  conceptual  shadows  for  the 
realities  which  cast  them,  enabled  thereby  to  roam  at  will 
in  a  chimerical  world  of  thought-engendered  fictions. 

As  to  the  directly  perceptible  world,  idealism  entirely 
volatilizes  it  into  intangible  mental  phenomena,  or  into  com- 
plete vacuity.  Its  most  eminent  champion,  the  good  and 
great  Bishop  Berkeley,  was  consistently  led  by  his  logical 
bent  to  the  startling  conclusion,  that  each  time  the  world 
is  perceived,  each  time  it  appears  pictured  in  an  individual 
mind  or  spirit,  it  is  newly  created,  and  each  time  the  eyes 
are  shut  it  is  again  annihilated.  Such  a  stupendous  marvel 
presupposes  an  ever  reiterated  divine  fiat;  in  fact  a  crea- 
tion and  myriadfold  recreation  of  perceptible  nature  out 
of  nothing.  This  would,  indeed  be  necessarily  the  case, 
if  perceptible  nature  had  no  other  existence,  save  in  the 
mind  of  the  percipient  actually  aware  of  it;  this  means 
if  perceptions,  as  Berkeley  believed,  were  indeed  identical 
with  real  being.  And  taking  for  granted  an  omnipotent 
creator,  as  Berkeley,  the  theologian,  was  bound  to  do, 
why  could  not  such  almighty  power  create  ever  anew  the 
vision  of  nature  in  each  of  us  whenever  we  open  our  eyes  ? 
But  quite  apart  from  theological  speculations  it  may  be 
safely  asserted  that  our  vision  of  nature  is  actually  annihi- 
lated whenever  we  shut  our  eyes,  and  recreated  whenever 
we  reopen  them. 

Contemplate  this  most  familiar  and  undeniable  occur- 
rence and  you  will  find  it  whenever  and  in  whomsoever  it 
occurs  to  be  a  creative  marvel  more  wonderful  bv  far 


DIALOGUE  BETWEEN  IDEALIST  AND  NATURALIST.        49 

than  anything  currently  taught  about  creation.  Here  a 
most  subtile,  light-woven  influence  works  its  secret  charm 
upon  our  open  eyes,  and  lo!  instantly,  magically  we  are 
conscious  of  the  whole  wide  form-filled  expanse  of  the 
great  outside  world.  Idealism  hardly  touches  upon  the 
secret  of  this  ever  renewed  creation  of  the  visible  world, 
providentially  ready  to  meet  and  satisfy  our  needs  and 
desires.  And  how  pitiously  dependent  are  we  from  mo- 
ment to  moment  on  what  is  offered  by  sense-revealed  na- 
ture, wherewith  to  gratify  our  wants,  and  to  realize  our 
aspirations. 

Id.  Is  it  not  quite  obvious  here,  that  pre-existing  mental 
endowment  underlies  the  sudden  appearance  of  what  is 
called  the  external  world?  If  it  did  not  pre-exist  in  mind 
it  could  not  possibly  come  into  existence  by  so  trifling  an 
action  on  our  part  as  the  opening  of  our  eyes,  an  action 
moreover  entirely  subject  to  capricious  volition.  It  would 
indeed  be  nothing  short  of  a  myriadfold  most  stupendous 
miracle  if  an  intangible  momentary  influence  affecting 
our  eyes  from  outside  were  to  carry  with  it  the  entire  ex- 
ternal world  ready-made.  Instead  of  having  recourse  with 
Berkeley  to  the  miraculous  intervention  of  an  ubiquitous 
theological  agency,  in  order  to  explain  the  ever  renewed 
creation  of  the  percipient's  vision  of  an  external  world, 
it  is  far  more  simple  and  convincing  to  conclude  that  on 
opening  our  eyes  this  vision  is  flashed  into  awareness  by 
the  activity  of  the  percipient's  own  mind,  in  which  it  has 
its  permanent  dwelling-place.  This  conclusion  is  rendered 
quite  certain  by  the  fact  that  the  objects  and  occurrences 
of  the  so-called  external  world  appear  most  vividly  also 
in  dreams  while  our  eyes  are  closed  to  outside  influences. 
You  cannot  but  acknowledge  that  nature,  as  we  know  it, 
is  altogether  inherent  in  mind,  and  that  it  consequently 
receives  its  true  interpretation  in  pure  idealism. 

Nat.    You  will  never  succeed  in  convincing  unsophisti- 


50  THE  MONIST. 

cated  mankind,  that  no  influence  from  outside  man's  own 
circumscribed  individuality  is  here  operative.  If  normal 
human  beings  open  their  eyes  in  complete  darkness  no 
external  world  becomes  at  all  visible.  Not  the  least  change 
takes  place  in  their  own  constitution  and  attitude  between 
the  opening  of  their  eyes  in  darkness,  and  their  opening 
them  in  illuminated  surroundings.  Yet  what  an  all-im- 
portant difference  it  makes  to  them!  In  the  latter  case 
there  flashes  into  awareness  the  visible  world  with  all  its 
objects  of  more  or  less  vital  interest  to  us;  in  the  former 
instance  our  vision  remains  empty  of  all  content.  It  is 
very  evident  here,  that  this  thoroughgoing  difference  is 
not  brought  about  by  any  influence  emanating  from  our 
own  mind.  The  inevitable  conclusion  is  then,  that  the  in- 
fluence which  has  wrought  this  revealing  change  must 
have  reached  us  from  outside,  and  that  empty  darkness 
can  be  only  due  to  the  exclusion  of  this  external  influence. 
Luminous  space  is  our  fundamental  visual  sensation  in- 
cited by  the  influence  of  what  are  called  etherial  vibra- 
tions upon  our  open  eyes,  and  the  shaded  and  colored  forms 
which  appear  therein  are  definite  determinations  of  such 
luminous  space  corresponding  to  definite  specifications  of 
the  inciting  vibrations.  Without  reference  to  outside  in- 
fluences no  sense  can  be  made  of  the  all-revealing  conscious 
content. 

In  further  elucidation  of  the  insufficiency  of  pure  ideal- 
ism try  yourself  to  believe  that,  for  instance,  no  dead  body 
is  left  behind  when  consciousness,  mind,  spirit,  soul,  life 
have  ceased  to  animate  it.  Will  it  ever  sincerely  satisfy  the 
sound  and  sober  sense  of  any  person  to  have  speculatively 
demonstrated  to  him,  that  after  death  there  remains  ex- 
tant no  such  thing  as  the  dead  body  of  his  friend,  save  as 
it  exists  in  his  mind  as  his  own  percept;  nay  as  it  exists 
in  the  mind  of  anv  number  of  beholders  as  each  one's  own 


DIALOGUE  BETWEEN  IDEALIST  AND  NATURALIST.         5! 

percept,  and  therefore  as  ever  so  many  bodies  of  the  same 
friend  ? 

Of  course  a  consistent  idealist  will  at  once  object,  will 
have  to  object,  that  there  exist  in  reality  no  other  persons 
anywhere  outside  the  mind  that  is  actually  aware  of  them 
as  forming  part  of  its  own  all-containing  conscious  content. 
And  it  is  quite  true  that  persons  as  mentally  perceived  have 
no  other  existence  save  in  the  conscious  content  in  which 
they  appear.  This  specious  idealistic  half-truth,  besides 
leading  to  solipsistic  nihilism,  has  seduced  many  a  thinker 
to  conclude  that  there  exists  in  reality  no  individual  mind, 
neither  a  mind  exclusively  belonging  to  you  nor  to  any 
other  human  being,  but  solely  one  indivisible,  eternal  Mind 
or  Spirit,  in  whose  all-comprising  Being  everything  per- 
ceived and  conceived  in  reality  exists. 

Id.  Well,  and  why  not  ?  Have  not  thinkers  of  highest 
repute  reached  this  very  conclusion?  Is  not  this  the  essen- 
tial teaching  of  panlogism,  and  indeed  of  all  pantheistic 
creeds  of  idealistic  cast?  Have  not  many  foremost  phi- 
losophers, and  also  great  poets,  mystics  and  theologians, 
found  intellectual  and  emotional  satisfaction  in  just  such 
a  creed?  Since  Anaxagoras  and  the  divine  Plato  attrib- 
uted supreme  reality  to  reason,  have  not  most  lofty-minded 
thinkers  thought  to  recognize  beyond  all  limitations  of 
time  and  space  pure  reason  as  the  norm  of  truth,  and  as 
essence  of  eternal  being ;  while  to  them  the  sense-apparent 
world  seemed  a  mere  illusive  play  of  phenomenal  appear- 
ances ? 

Nat.  Quite  so,  but  only  because  these  eminent  thinkers 
and  dreamers  failed  to  realize  the  utter  insubstantiality 
and  evanescence  of  all  mental  modes,  the  fleeting  phenom- 
enality  of  our  entire  actual  awareness,  wherein  everything 
of  ideal  or  mental  consistency  has  its  transitory  being. 
Rightly  considered  there  is  no  such  perduring  substance 
or  entity  as  consciousness  or  mind  is  supposed  to  be.  We 


52  THE  MONIST. 

are  actually  aware  only  of  arising,  dwindling  and  vanish- 
ing conscious  phenomena,  bearing  a  distinctly  specific  char- 
acter and  significant  practical  meaning.  But  we  are  no- 
wise aware  of  such  a  collective  enduring  entity  as  self- 
rounded  consciousness  or  mind  would  have  to  be  as  com- 
prising and  issuing  matrix  of  them  all.  Our  moment  of 
actual  awareness  constitutes  what  we  know  as  the  present 
in  radical  contradistinction  of  what  we  know  as  the  past 
and  the  future.  The  past  has  vanished  for  evermore;  the 
future  has  not  yet  come  to  be.  In  present  awareness  is 
revealed  all  that  belongs  to  ourselves,  and  all  that  belongs 
to  the  world  at  large.  It  needs  but  a  moment's  considera- 
tion to  realize  this  momentous  fact  of  conscious  revelation. 
Our  present  moment  of  awareness,  our  actual  conscious 
content,  is  therefore,  as  indeed  generally  admitted  by  phi- 
losophers, our  only  source  of  information.  Notwithstand- 
ing it  is  evidently  as  transitory  and  lapsing  as  time  itself, 
whose  perpetual  flux  it  fills  with  a  medley  of  ever  renewed 
mental  phenomena.  Or  rather  its  own  perpetual  flux  on 
a  -steadfast  background  of  memorized  experience  and  of 
physical  regularities  gives  rise  to  our  conception  of  time. 
The  seeming  endurance  of  some  of  these  mental  phenom- 
ena is  altogether  illusive.  They  are  without  exception  fleet- 
ing and  evanescent,  and  form  only  for  the  time  being  the 
appearances  that  make  up  the  transitory  conscious  content, 
passing  through  awareness  in  a  continuous  stream,  emerg- 
ing into  it  and  seeming  to  endure  therein  only  by  being 
uninterruptedly  replaced  by  a  new  influx  of  more  or  less 
similar  modes.  In  no  two  moments  of  time  is  the  conscious 
content  identically  the  same.  No  modicum  of  self-endur- 
ing consistency  attaches  to  anything  of  conscious  or  mental 
consistency.  All  mental  phenomena  are  as  such  but  rain- 
bowlike  appearances.  The  seeming  steadfastness  of  the 
world  figured  in  visual  perception  rests  in  phenomenal 
repose  on  a  foil  of  ceaseless  change. 


DIALOGUE  BETWEEN  IDEALIST  AND  NATURALIST.        53 

Id.  The  considerations  you  are  bringing  forward 
against  pure  idealism  are  only  common  sense  apprehensions 
that  are  effectively  dispelled  by  thought  proving  that  the 
perceptual  appearances  which  in  random  and  fragmentary 
glimpses  are  projecting  into  awareness  the  semblance  of 
an  external  world  are  but  an  illusive  mirage  distortedly 
reflected  from  the  eternal  plenary  space  of  the  intelligible 
world,  where  genuine  reality  is  constituted  by  reason  alone. 
Is  not  the  conception  of  what  we  hold  to  be  true  reality 
the  recognition  of  an  eternal  normative  realm  of  spiritual 
existence,  where  veritable  being  consists  in  a  rationally 
all-inclusive  idea,  in  an  eternal  mine  stans  of  reason's 
unified  archetypal  concepts?  Is  not  our  own  intuition 
of  universally  valid  truth,  our  ideal  of  justice,  love,  beauty, 
inspired  by  a  transcendent  forecast  and  longing  for  perfec- 
tion, for  reunion  beyond  all  vicissitudes  of  this  temporal 
existence  with  ever  unchangeable  all-sufficient  Being? 

Nat.  Yes!  that  which  constitutes  genuine  truth  can- 
not be  but  out  and  out  rational.  The  random,  fragmentary 
appearances  which  arise  within  awareness  have  to  be 
synthetically  worked  up  into  rational  consistency,  into  har- 
monious agreement  with  previous  experience,  before  they 
can  afford  any  reliable  information  or  inspiration.  When 
and  by  what  means  does  such  an  enduring  synthetical 
unification  take  place?  "How  are  synthetical  propositions 
possible?"  It  is  but  a  poor  account  that  pure  idealism  can 
give  of  this  momentous  occurrence.  Deprive  its  spiritual 
idea  of  sense-derived  experience,  or  its  perceptual  phe- 
nomena of  reference  to  extra-conscious  existence,  and  you 
empty  it  of  all  objective  reality,  reduce  it,  in  fact,  to  a 
senseless,  meaningless  nothing.  This  sweeping  assertion 
cannot  be  refuted  by  ever  so  ingenious  argumentation.  It 
is  all  too  positively  evidenced  by  direct  experience. 

Kant  after  life-long  profound  contemplation  declared 
emphatically  in  opposition  to  all  modes  of  pure  idealism, 


54  THE  MONIST. 

that  concepts  remain  empty  of  content  if  not  supplied  by 
outside  influences  with  sense-material,  supplied  with  the 
vivid  appearances  which  arise  in  time  and  space  as  given 
raw-material  of  knowledge.  Kant  labored  most  assidu- 
ously to  unify  the  seemingly  disparate  worlds  of  sense  and 
intellect,  the  mundus  sensibilis  with  the  mundus  intelli- 
gibilis.  Influenced  by  Hume  he  made  another  most  labo- 
rious attempt  to  accomplish  this  perennial  task.  He  sought 
to  restore  the  sensible  world  to  its  rightful  share  in  the 
makeup  of  knowledge,  a  share  of  which  it  had  been  com- 
pletely deprived  by  Leibnitz,  whose  philosophy  was  then 
dominant  in  Germany.  But  by  admitting  the  existence 
of  a  causative  intelligible  world,  where  we  human  indi- 
viduals were  held  to  have  our  real  being  as  "intelligible 
egos,"  and  where  a  universal  consciousness  was  believed 
to  be  the  bearer  and  apperceiver  of  the  synthetical  unity 
of  all  that  is  empirically  experienced;  by  admitting  these 
transcendent  intelligible  potencies  Kant  became,  contrary 
to  his  intention,  the  founder  of  pure  intellectual  or  spiritual 
idealism.  And  by  admitting  a  power  of  free  moral  causa- 
tion as  endowment  of  the  intelligible  ego  he  became  also 
the  founder  of  pure  volitional  idealism. 

However,  in  order  to  prove  irrefutably  the  essential 
part  sense-imparted  experience  really  plays  in  the  con- 
stitution of  knowledge,  and  the  utter  impotence  of  thought 
without  having  been  first  informed  by  it,  we  are  not  de- 
pendent on  mere  reasoning  from  psychological  data.  Posi- 
tive demonstration  that  sense-derived  experience  furnishes 
the  material  which  makes  up  the  content  of  conceptual 
thought  is  unmistakably  afforded  by  the  blind,  the  deaf 
and  preeminently  so  by  the  blind  and  deaf.  It  cannot  be 
denied  that  the  congenitally  blind  have  no  knowledge,  no 
cognizance  whatever  of  the  world  normally  revealed  in 
vision ;  the  congenitally  deaf  no  cognizance  of  that  revealed 
in  sound.  All  that  fills  our  moment  of  awareness  with  the 


DIALOGUE  BETWEEN  IDEALIST  AND  NATURALIST.         55 

rich  content  of  visible  and  audible  information  regarding 
the  means  of  satisfying  life's  needful  requirements,  and 
regarding  its  objects  of  delight  and  terror,  all  this  sen- 
sorially  accruing  knowledge  is  wholly  non-existent  to  beings 
devoid  of  sight  and  hearing.  Not  only  this  plain  evidence 
of  the  dependence  of  concepts  for  their  content  upon  sen- 
sorial  experience,  but  further  decisive  proof  of  the  indis- 
pensableness  of  sense-derived  experience  in  the  develop- 
ment and  manifestation  of  intelligence  in  each  separate 
human  individual  is  afforded  by  language. 

Deaf  persons,  linguistically  untaught  remain  in  con- 
sequence all  through  life  in  a  state  of  imbecility.  Being 
shut  out  from  the  world  of  sound,  no  linguistic  vocal  signs 
can  convey  to  them  the  discriminative  distinctions  and  ap- 
prehended significance  of  such  experience  as  is  not  merely 
subservient  to  animal  needs  and  desires.  It  is  certain  that 
without  the  knowledge  and  use  of  linguistic  signs  of  some 
sort  there  can  be  no  thinking,  and  consequently  no  intelli- 
gence of  the  conceptual  kind.  Thought  and  language  are 
inseparably  bound  up  with  each  other,  are  wholly  inter- 
dependent. Here,  then,  is  another  fundamental  fact  of 
actual  experience  for  philosophical  contemplation  to  probe, 
in  order  to  penetrate  more  deeply  and  truthfully  into  the 
secret  of  the  relation  of  conception  to  perception,  of  that 
of  mind  to  body,  of  the  dependence  of  intelligence  on  a 
social  medium.  No  human  being  becomes  intelligent  be- 
fore having  been  first  taught  the  linguistic  vocal  signs,  or 
some  equivalent  for  them,  current  in  the  social  community 
to  which  he  belongs.  This  is  as  much  as  to  say,  there 
exists  no  human  being,  no  thinking  and  talking  biped,  no 
intelligent  creature  whatever,  outside  the  social  circle  into 
which  he  is  born,  or  in  which  he  has  been  brought  up. 
With  such  positive  experience,  with  such  irrefutable  foun- 
dation to  reason  from,  it  is  surely  egregiously  misleading 
and  fanciful  to  assume  any  kind  of  intelligence  or  reason 


56  THE  MONIST. 

that  can  exist  outside  a  definite  social  community,  and  ig- 
norant of  linguistic  signs  socially  inculcated.  A  human 
being  becomes  human  as  radically  distinguished  from  other 
living  creatures  chiefly,  nay  almost  exclusively,  by  the 
acquisition  of  linguistic  signs,  which  invest  him  with  the 
power  of  thinking.  No  thought,  no  intelligence  without 
socially  acquired  speech.  This  obvious  truth  is  daily  taught 
by  direct  experience.  And  candidly  attending  to  it,  what 
venerable  philosophical  aircastles  dissolve  into  nonentity! 

Id.  It  is  surely  contrary  to  all  reason  to  maintain 
that  by  learning  some  kind  of  linguistic  signs  socially 
agreed  upon  one  develops  from  a  state  of  mere  unthinking, 
instinctive  animality  into  an  intelligent  human  being.  Who 
can  believe  that  intelligence  or  reason  can  possibly  be  en- 
gendered by  so  slight  and  casual  a  cause?  If  our  mental 
nature  failed  to  be  rational  in  itself,  to  be  innately  en- 
dowed with  intelligence  before  we  get  to  learn  linguistic 
signs,  we  should  certainly  remain  all  through  life  as 
thoughtless  as  other  animals.  A  parrot  does  not  become 
a  thoughtful  animal  by  learning  to  utter  linguistic  signs. 

Nat.  What  you  contend  for  is  quite  true.  Without 
innate  endowment  of  potential  intelligence  no  actual  in- 
telligence could  possibly  be  developed  by  learning  linguistic 
signs.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  all  potential  endowment 
of  intelligence  remains  sterile  without  being  fertilized  and 
actualized  by  language. 

It  has  to  be  insisted  upon  that  idealism  furnishes  but 
a  superficial  interpretation  of  such  marvelous  manifesta- 
tions as  the  sudden  vision  of  an  external  world  on  opening 
our  eyes,  or  the  development  of  actual  intelligence  by  means 
of  linguistic  signs.  Intelligence  is  nowise  an  a  priori  at- 
tribute belonging  to  mind,  as  a  "thinking  substance/'  On 
scientific  investigation  those  marvelous  manifestations  are 
found  to  be  achieved  results  of  endless  vital  toil  leading 
to  progressive  organization.  In  the  light  of  biological 


DIALOGUE  BETWEEN  IDEALIST  AND  NATURALIST.        57 

knowledge  mental  phenomena  are  final  outcomes  of  this 
organizing  process.  They  are  supreme  resultants  of  aeons 
of  vital  travail,  perceptively  evinced  in  the  phyletically  or- 
ganized structures  underlying  them. 

Mental  phenomena  can  rightly  be  called  mental  only 
when  they  appear  as  consciously  present.  When  they  are  not 
present  as  conscious  they  have  ceased  to  be  mental,  and 
are  wrongly  conceived  to  be  still  mentally  subsisting  in 
latency  by  puzzled  idealists  in  search  of  something  sub- 
stantially enduring  to  build  their  systems  with.  It  is  ob- 
vious, on  the  other  hand,  that  mental  phenomena  after 
having  vanished  out  of  conscious  awareness  are  somehow 
reproduced  from  an  extra-conscious  matrix.  The  flow  in 
time  of  arising  and  vanishing  mental  phenomena  as  con- 
sciously manifest  must  evidently  issue  from  some  perma- 
nent source.  And  as  mental  phenomena  carry  with  them 
former  experience  now  memorized,  it  follows  that  such 
former  experience  must  have  been  potentially  preserved 
in  some  retaining  mould,  much  as  the  voice  is  latently  re- 
tained in  a  phonograph.  Only  here  the  organic  mould  is 
a  vitally  active  retainer  that  assimilates  newly  acquired 
experience  with  such  as  had  been  previously  revealed,  deep- 
ening and  amplifying  former  information.  What  is  so 
glibly  called  "memory/'  wherein  is  consciously  resusci- 
tated in  momentary  awareness  the  latently  retained  ex- 
perience of  our  lifetime  must  necessarily  dwell  in  some 
perduring  extra-conscious  matrix  potentially  harboring 
it.  Such  a  matrix  has  consequently  to  possess  the  attri- 
butes universally  ascribed  to  what  is  philosophically  called 
"substance."  It  has  namely  to  remain  itself  identically 
intact  and  functionally  efficient,  while  nevertheless  emitting 
the  sundry  manifestations  that  appear  in  conscious  aware- 
ness. This  substance  being  the  inexhaustible  source  of 
conscious  phenomena  has  to  combine  in  itself  the  logically 
contradictory  and  yet  logically  desiderated  attributes  of 


58  THE  MONIST. 

unchangeableness  and  change;  has,  in  fact,  to  consist  of 
an  underlying  entity  which  remains  itself  identically  un- 
changed, being  nevertheless  the  source  of  the  flow  of  end- 
less changing  modes.  It  cannot  be  denied  that  it  is  lo- 
gically incomprehensible  how  anything  can  be  the  source 
of  the  flow  of  manifold  occurrences  without  changing  and 
spending  itself  in  so  doing. 

The  conception  of  such  an  identically  abiding  substance 
which  is  nevertheless  the  source  of  the  changeful  manifold, 
lies  at  the  root  of  all  metaphysics.  All  attempts  at  inter- 
preting nature  have  assumed  as  foundation  to  reason  from 
some  such  identically  enduring  substance.  Not  to  mention 
the  many  ingenious  devices  resorted  to  by  ancient  sages  of 
all  civilized  lands  and  times  in  order  plausibly  to  evolve 
the  many  from  the  one,  modern  philosophy  to  the  present 
day  has  been  mainly  concerned  with  this  logically  and  dia- 
lectically  insoluble  problem.  In  their  perplexity  at  not  be- 
ing able  to  discover  the  desiderated  substance  in  nature, 
thinkers  were  led  to  assume  some  kind  of  fictitious  entity 
to  do  service  for  it.  The  outright  dogmatism  of  such  an 
arbitrary  procedure  becomes  evident  in  Kant's  a  priori 
definition  of  substance,  "In  allem  Wcchsel  der  Erschei- 
nungen  beharret  die  Substanz,"  Amid  all  change  of  what 
appears  the  substance  endures.  And  he  significantly  added : 
"Its  quantity  in  nature  neither  diminishes  nor  augments." 
This  addition  was  evidently  formulated  in  order  to  state 
a  priori  that  the  desiderated  substance  must  not  itself  be 
spent  in  giving  rise  to  what  successively  appears  as  the 
content  of  time  and  space.  Kant  tells  us  plainly  what  a 
genuine  substance  ought  to  combine  in  itself;  namely:  "die 
entgegengesetztcn  Bestimniungen"  the  contradictory  de- 
terminations of  preserved  identity  amid  change. 

It  may  well  be  asked  if  any  of  the  assumed  underlying 
substances  of  philosophers  really  combine  in  themselves 
logically  contradictory  determinations.  They  generally  as- 


DIALOGUE  BETWEEN  IDEALIST  AND  NATURALIST.         59 

sume  as  underlying  substance  some  identically  abiding 
First  Cause,  causa  sui,  as  Spinoza  expresses  this  cutting 
of  the  Gordian  knot  of  philosophy.  The  assumption  is, 
however,  something  unthinkable,  for  under  "causation" 
is  rightly  understood  a  sequence  of  effected  events  without 
conceivable  beginning  or  end.  Here  our  human  under- 
standing stands  bafflled  by  losing  itself  into  infinity  both 
ways.  Such  a  fictitiously  posited  First  Cause  is  then  con- 
ceived, either  as  an  omnipotent  personality,  or  as  eternal 
intelligence,  reason,  absolute  idea  or  substance,  or  as  the 
Absolute  outright,  as  the  mystic  Nothing  from  which 
everything  proceeds,  as  psychical  actus  pur  us,  Urgrund, 
indestructible  matter  eternally  driven  into  changeful  forms 
by  indestructible  motion,  and  lately  also  as  all-efficient  pro- 
tean energy.  These  are  the  principal  first  causes  that  have 
been  hypothetically  substantialized  into  permanency  to 
serve  in  turn  as  identically  enduring  matrix,  whence  the 
experienced  phenomena  may  be  made  plausibly  to  issue 
into  manifest  existence. 

After  all  these  vain  attempts  to  discover  the  genuine 
substance,  which  in  reality  combines  in  itself  the  logically 
contradictory  attributes  of  unchangeableness  and  change, 
philosophers  will  have  to  apply  to  biology  for  solution  of 
this  eminently  momentous  puzzle.  Then  only  will  they 
receive  the  real  experiential  groundwork,  which  will  enable 
them  effectively  and  validly  to  reason  regarding  the  evo- 
lution of  the  problem  of  the  many  from  the  one,  of  the 
changeful  manifold  from  an  identically  abiding  matrix, 
of  the  succession  of  mental  phenomena  from  a  vitally  active 
source.  It  has  to  be  emphatically  declared  that  solely  in 
the  perceptible  living  organism, — not  in  its  mentally  per- 
ceptual representation — is  to  be  found  in  our  world  the 
veritable  substance  that  remains  itself  identical,  while  emit- 
ting all  the  changeful  phenomena  of  the  conscious  content. 

Id.    So  after  all  you  side  with  the  materialists  who  be- 


6O  THE  MONIST. 

lieve  that  it  is  our  body  that  thinks,  that  certain  molecular 
agitations  of  brain-substance  give  rise  to  mental  phenom- 
ena, and  are  thus  their  efficient  cause.  From  what  you 
previously  admitted  it  seemed  that  you  accepted  Berkeley's 
idealism,  in  so  far  at  least  as  it  proved  the  non-existence 
of  such  an  entity  as  a  material  body.  Surely  what  is  per- 
ceived as  our  body  or  organism  consists  in  verity  altogether 
of  a  group  of  sensations,  principally  tactual  and  visual. 

Nat.  Quite  so,  but  how  does  it  happen  that  the  body 
or  organism  of  this  dog,  for  instance,  forms  at  the  same 
time  part  of  your  conscious  content  as  well  as  of  mine? 
You  will  hardly  deny  what  is  universally  acknowledged, 
namely  that  one  and  the  same  thing  or  individuated  object 
cannot  be  in  two  places  at  the  same  time.  Moreover,  it  is 
certain  that  I  cannot  touch  or  see  the  perceptual  dog  form- 
ing part  of  your  conscious  content,  nor  can  you  that  form- 
ing part  of  my  conscious  content.  Evidently  then  your 
percept  of  the  dog  or  mine  cannot  possibly  be  operative  in 
causing  either  of  us  to  perceive  the  real  dog,  which  neither 
you  nor  I  can  well  deny  that  we  distinctly  perceive.  Nor 
could  each  of  any  number  of  beholders  deny  that  he  like- 
wise perceives  pictured  in  his  conscious  content  the  percept 
of  the  same  dog.  Should  you,  however,  nevertheless  deny 
the  existence  of  such  numerous  percepts  of  the  same  dog 
in  numerous  percipients,  and  that  any  real  dog  exists  save 
the  one  appearing  in  your  own  conscious  content,  it  would 
consistently  force  you  also  to  deny  my  existence  outside 
your  conscious  content,  a  preposterous  and  untenable  posi- 
tion, although  necessarily  held  by  pure  idealism.  For  with- 
out touching,  seeing,  and  hearing  me  you  would  be  wholly 
unaware  of  my  existence,  and  could  therefore  not  perceive 
me  as  forming  part  rf  your  conscious  content.  It  is  a 
positive  fact  that  the  conscious  phenomena  arising  in  the 
conscious  content  of  any  individual  cannot  be  perceived  by 
any  other  individual;  while,  on  the  contrary  many  other 


DIALOGUE  BETWEEN  IDEALIST  AND  NATURALIST.        6 1 

individuals  can  simultaneously  perceive  the  same  real  body 
in  the  same  objective  place.  This  proves  that  the  nature 
of  the  real  body  differs  in  consistency  and  actuating  power 
entirely  from  anything  mental.  The  irresistible  conclusion 
here  is,  that  the  body,  thus  perceptible  to  many  beholders, 
forms  part  of  an  extra-conscious,  non-mental  world  which 
possesses  the  power  to  compel  its  perceptual  representation 
to  arise  in  the  conscious  content  of  whomever  is  in  a  position 
to  behold  it.  That  the  real  extra-conscious  world  is  sense- 
revealed,  and  not  a  mere  mental  product  is  unmistakably 
demonstrated,  as  previously  shown,  by  the  congenitally 
blind  and  deaf. 

The  apparently  mysterious  fact,  that  the  extra- con- 
scious, but  perceptible  world  is  found  to  correspond  to  its 
perceptual  representation,  constitutes  another  problem  that 
no  conceptual  reasoning  can  in  the  least  degree  elucidate, 
while  biology  is  in  a  position  to  furnish  at  least  a  proxi- 
mately  satisfactory  and  scientifically  valid  explanation  of  it. 

Id.  It  is  indeed  obvious  that  mental  phenomena  are  not 
sensorially  perceptible,  that  one  cannot  touch  with  hands 
or  see  with  eyes  any  feeling,  sensation,  percept,  thought, 
or  conscious  emotion.  Transcendental  idealism  will  un- 
hesitatingly agree  to  this,  as  it  can  consistently  admit  only 
one  single,  all-comprising  mental  content  as  sole  reality. 
It  has  to  be  confessed,  however,  that  it  seems  to  have 
been  made  good  in  this  discussion,  that  externally  incited, 
sense-derived  experience,  memorized  and  symbolically  syn- 
thetized,  goes  to  make  up  the  content  of  concepts.  This 
experientially  demonstrated  fact,  I  am  afraid  cannot  be 
argued  away.  If  so,  it  seals  with  thinkers,  who  candidly 
ponder  it,  the  fate  of  pure  idealism,  as  pretending  to  be  a 
sufficient  interpretation  of  nature. 

But  admitting  the  bare  existence  of  a  real  extra-con- 
scious world,  we  evidently  do  not  know  its  real  nature, 
but  only  its  perceptual  representation  in  the  conscious  con- 


62  THE  MONIST. 

tent.  And  therewith  the  real  nature  of  what  underlies 
our  sensorial  susceptibilities  remains  unknown.  We  only 
become  aware  of  their  organized  embodiment  perceptually 
revealed  as  our  organs  of  sense.  The  real  nature  of  the 
extra-conscious  wrorld,  whose  intrinsic  powers  compel  defi- 
nite percepts  to  arise  in  our  conscious  content,  remains  as 
enigmatic  as  that  of  Kant's  things-in-themselves,  or  Ber- 
keley's divine  Hat. 

Nat.  It  must,  indeed,  be  quite  incomprehensible  to 
thinkers  unacquainted  with  biological  results,  how  the  per- 
ceptual world  arising  in  conscious  awareness  has  come  to 
symbolically  represent,  and  significantly  to  correspond  to 
an  incommensurable  extra-conscious  world  vicariously  re- 
vealed mainly  through  an  etherial  influence  affecting  our 
vision.  Here  a  plain  remark  may  serve  to  disentangle 
incongruent  problems,  the  mixing  up  of  which  has  sorely 
confused  philosophers  of  all  times.  The  problem  of  the 
inner  and  vital  conditions  that  underlie  the  arising  of  men- 
tal phenomena  is  of  an  entirely  different  order  from  the 
problem  of  the  real  nature  of  the  extra-conscious,  sense- 
compelling  world,  and  its  conative  and  cognitive  signifi- 
cance to  our  individual  needs  and  desires;  and  this  again 
is  of  a  different  order  from  the  weighty  problem  of  mem- 
orizing, by  which  process  inner  and  outer  impressions, 
carrying  with  them  unconscious  and  conscious  experience 
vitally  and  emotionally  needful  to  our  existence,  become 
organically  blended  and  latently  retained. 

As  our  real  perceptible  organism  forms  itself  part  of 
the  great  extra-conscious,  power-endowed  world,  and  also 
underlies  functionally  our  vital  and  purposive  activities,  and 
is  besides  the  bearer  of  the  significantly  memorized  and 
synthetically  unified  mental  phenomena,  the  three  other- 
wise separate  incongruent  conditions  and  influences  com- 
bine here  to  give  rise  to  the  all-revealing  conscious  content. 

Biological  research  is  a  laborious  pursuit  requiring 


DIALOGUE  BETWEEN  IDEALIST  AND  NATURALIST.        63 

close  observation  and  persevering  application ;  moreover  a 
single-minded,  unbiased  desire  to  correctly  interpret  com- 
pulsory sense-phenomena  directly  given  or  experimentally 
made  to  appear.  In  contrast  with  such  scrupulously  as- 
certained truth  regarding  natural  facts  and  occurrences  to 
reason  from,  the  general  method  of  philosophizing  has  es- 
sentially consisted  in  reasoning  from  randomly  gathered 
and  intuitively  generalized  experience,  or  even  from  mere 
imaginary  conceptions  arbitrarily  postulated.  The  many 
philosophical  failures  to  rightly  account  for  natural  occur- 
rences are  principally  due  to  the  ascribing  of  substantiality 
and  efficiency  to  mental  phenomena,  which  are,  in  verity, 
all  forceless  and  evanescent.  Nothing  mental,  it  has  again 
to  be  insisted  upon,  possesses  as  such  any  modicum  of  sub- 
stantiality, or  causative  efficiency.  And  here  we  have 
above  all  to  recognize  that  what  we  call  our  intelligence, 
pre-eminently  a  manifestation  of  mentality,  is  powerless  to 
add  the  least  efficacy  or  to  impart  any  kind  of  new  property 
to  nature  and  its  perceptible  constituents.  It  can,  how- 
ever, designedly  devise  for  them  new  opportunities,  by  which 
they  are  placed  through  the  volitional  activity  of  our  extra- 
conscious  being  in  positions  to  display  properties  and  pow- 
ers hitherto  latent  and  potential  only.  Intelligence  can 
furthermore  inventively  render  natural  properties  and  effi- 
ciencies subservient  to  our  lower  and  higher  needs  and  de- 
sires. 

Having  in  mind  the  three  essential  problems,  whose 
correct  solution  alone  can  furnish  the  true  foundation  for 
a  valid  interpretation  of  nature,  let  us  test  in  this  respect 
the  thought  of  recognized  leaders  of  the  two  different 
idealistic  ways  of  interpreting  it. 

Kant,  perhaps  the  most  circumspect  and  painstaking  of 
modern  thinkers,  as  regards  the  first  problem  completely 
ignored  the  part  vital  organization  plays  in  the  synthesis 
of  sensorial,  and  in  fact  of  all  experience.  He  held  all  syn- 


64  THE  MONIST. 

thesis  to  be  the  function  of  what  he  called  a  priori  cate- 
gories of  the  understanding.  These  categories  are,  how- 
ever, in  verity,  mere  abstract  generalizations  of  expe- 
rienced connections  between  succeeding  and  coexisting 
natural  phenomena.  Being  mere  concepts,  they  are  them- 
selves entirely  impotent,  and  have  in  Kant's  system  to 
borrow  their  alleged  functional  efficiency  from  an  imagined 
supernatural,  power-endowed  realm  of  noumenal  existents, 
of  which  our  own  real  being  under  the  name  of  "intelligible 
ego"  is  believed  to  form  part,  and  to  exert  moreover  a 
power  of  free  moral  causation,  enabling  it  to  initiate  from 
its  timeless  and  spaceless  dwelling-place  effective  changes 
in  our  time-and-space  world. 

With  regard  to  the  second  problem,  by  not  recognizing 
the  manner  by  which  existents  of  the  extra-conscious  world 
— called  by  Kant  "things-in-themselves" — are  and  have 
become  empowered  to  cause  definite  sensorial  appearances 
to  arise  in  the  conscious  content, — in  his  language  to  fill 
time  and  space,  our  empty  forms  of  intuitive  receptivity, 
with  unsynthetized  sensorial  raw  material — he  left  this 
all-important  occurrence  wholly  unexplained,  taking  no 
further  notice  of  this  unremitting  effective  connection  be- 
tween the  extra-conscious  world  and  the  world  of  conscious 
awareness.  Therewith  he  entirely  shut  himself  up  in  the 
magic  circle  of  mere  subjective  consciousness,  a  position 
which  consistently  thought  out  leads  inevasibly  to  pure 
solipsistic  idealism.  Or  admitting,  inconsistently  however, 
a  plurality  of  other  subjective  consciousnesses,  it  leads  to 
Leibnitzean  monadology.  From  this  hopeless  and  helpless 
imprisonment  in  his  own  solitary  phantom-peopled  self, 
Kant  sought  to  extricate  himself  by  evoking  assistance 
from  his  imagined  intelligible  world,  calling  upon  it  to  im- 
part objectifying  efficiency  to  his  otherwise  impotent  sub- 
jective categories. 

The  third  problem  Kant  circumvented  by  leaving  un- 


DIALOGUE  BETWEEN  IDEALIST  AND  NATURALIST.         65 

explained  how  newly  acquired  experience  really  happens 
to  become  latently  preserved  and  memorized,  potentially 
ready  on  occasion  to  issue  as  consciously  resuscitated  into 
actual  awareness.  He  recognized  that  the  perpetual  flux 
of  time  carries  away  with  it  its  entire  freight  of  conscious 
phenomena.  This  being  so,  this  transitoriness  and  evan- 
escence can  obviously  not  be  arrested  and  permanently 
fixed,  nor  its  content  registered,  by  any  purely  mental 
process.  Consequently  without  some  non-mental  preserv- 
ing matrix  there  could  exist  for  us  no  past  and  no  future. 
The  whole  world  we  are  now  consciously  aware  of  would 
have  never  come  into  existence.  All  accruing  experience, 
if  such  could  take  place,  would  instantly  vanish  into  com- 
plete oblivion.  Of  such  paramount  importance  is  the  bio- 
logical fact  of  memorizing. 

Hume,  and  with  him  all  nominalistic  or  subjective  ideal- 
ists and  associationists  make  the  interpretation  of  nature 
an  easy  task  for  themselves.  They  simply  ignore  the  ex- 
istence of  an  extra-conscious,  power-endowed  world,  and 
invent,  to  begin  with,  the  building  material  wherewith  to 
erect  their  philosophical  air-castles,  working  with  nothing 
but  transitory  feelings  of  more  than  doubtful  individual 
existence.  These  they  arbitrarily  substantialize  into  per- 
during  existence,  and  set  about  mentally  to  construct  with 
them  what  they  declare  to  be  the  real  world.  The  real 
world  they  in  all  seriousness  believe  to  have  been  put  to- 
gether by  combination  or  rather  aggregation  of  the  flimsy, 
fleeting  mental  atoms  called  by  them  "sensations"  or  "im- 
pressions." Such  vivid  sensations  or  impressions  are  thus 
held  to  arise  in  actual  individual  awareness  as  given  in  an 
entirely  mysterious  way.  Thereupon  they  are  believed  to 
be  retained  as  memorized  in  extra-conscious  latency  event- 
ually to  be  summoned  into  consciousness  as  faintly  repro- 
duced "ideas"  that  have  become  by  habitual  experience 
associated  in  definite  ways  with  their  vivid  prototypes. 


66  THE  MONIST. 

To  postulate  "memory"  unexplained  as  an  abiding, 
extra-conscious  matrix,  which  receives,  latently  preserves, 
and  on  occasion  emits  into  conscious  awareness  all  accrued 
and  all  accruing  experience  is  an  eminently  unscientific 
procedure  which  amounts  to  virtually  begging  the  entire 
question  of  mind  and  its  knowledge.  The  problem  of  mind, 
and  therewith  of  memory,  can  be  solved  only  biologically 
by  recognizing  that  the  world  of  consciousness  is  an  out- 
come of  vital  activity  emanating  from  the  perceptible,  phy- 
letically  elaborated  entity,  revealed  in  perceptual  aware- 
ness as  the  living  organism. 

Id.  After  all  your  lengthy  exposition  it  remains  still 
unclear  to  me  how  from  data  of  the  conscious  content, 
arising  subjectively  in  an  individuated  being,  and  admitted 
to  be  the  only  directly  given  source  of  information,  how 
from  such  exclusively  subjective  mental  phenomena,  it  can 
be  legitimately  inferred  that  an  external  world  really  exists 
independent  of  that  which  perceptually  appears  as  such, 
and  that,  moreover,  our  organism  and  its  environment, 
with  all  their  alleged  efficient  interactions,  consciously 
forming  part  of  one  and  the  same  conscious  content,  can 
in  an  extra-conscious  world  exist  as  separate  entities. 
Mind,  according  to  this  naturalistic  view  would  then  be 
merely  a  gradually  developed  functional  outcome  of  toil- 
somely elaborated  structural  organization,  and  not  as  ideal- 
ism, and  indeed  most  philosophers  contend,  an  original, 
power-endowed,  all-comprising  entity,  having  its  true  home 
in  a  purely  intelligible  sphere. 

Nat.  I  thought  you  had  become  convinced  of  the  inde- 
pendent existence  of  an  extra-conscious,  non-mental  world, 
and  that  you  consequently  agreed  that  idealism  is  a  mis- 
taken position.  Possibly  your  revived  doubts  as  to  the 
correctness  of  naturalistic  views  are  caused  by  the  fact, 
that  in  my  defense  of  them  I  have  mostly  presupposed, 
mav  be  without  sufficient  demonstration,  the  existence  in 


DIALOGUE  BETWEEN  IDEALIST  AND  NATURALIST.        67 

non-mental  nature  of  a  plurality  of  human  beings,  while 
it  is  of  the  essence  of  pure  idealism  not  to  admit  such  a 
plurality.  In  consequence  of  it  nominalistic  idealism,  as 
already  stated,  leads  inevasibly  to  solipsistic  phenomenal- 
ism; and  transcendental  idealism  has  to  postulate  as  sole 
reality  a  universal  absolute  Intelligence  or  Reason. 

The  all  important  contention  between  the  belief  of  ideal- 
ism in  all-efficient,  all-comprising  mind,  and  the  belief  of 
naturalism  in  the  independent  existence  of  a  non-mental 
world  of  power-endowed  interacting  existents  hinges — 
paradoxically  enough — on  the  demonstration  of  the  real 
bodily  existence  of  other  human  beings  outside  the  con- 
scious content  in  which  they  perceptually  appear.  Philo- 
sophically speaking  such  demonstration  draws  with  it  the 
proof  of  the  existence  of  an  "objective/'  extra-mental 
world.  It  is  undeniable  that  if  other  human  beings  con- 
sisted really  altogether  of  such  mind-stuff  as  constitutes 
the  conscious  content,  their  appearance  in  perceptual  aware- 
ness would  be  wholly  unaccountable.  And  besides,  the 
vision  of  perceptual  human  beings  and  their  movements, 
when  they  appear,  amounts  in  any  case  only  to  a  panto- 
mimic play  of  insentient  phantoms,  much  as  that  of  human 
phantoms  and  their  actions  projected  intangibly  into  mid- 
air by  means  of  reflecting  mirrors.  The  significance  of 
the  actions  of  such  phantasmal  beings,  unwilled,  unknown 
and  unfelt  by  themselves,  has  to  be  interpreted  by  the 
memorized  experience  of  a  feeling  and  understanding  spec- 
tator. What,  then,  is  the  real  nature  of  such  a  spectator, 
who  cannot  be  himself  a  mere  perceptual  phantom?  And 
where  do  these  phantasmal  scenes  really  take  place?  Are 
they  perchance  mere  reflections  in  individual  awareness 
•of  what  really  exists  and  takes  place  in  a  universal  con- 
sciousness? Such  was  the  reasoned  conclusion  arrived 
at  by  Malebranche,  by  Kant  in  early  days,  as  witnessed  in 
the  following  sentence:  "nempe  nos  omnia  intueri  in  Deo," 


68  THE  MONIST. 

and  virtually  also  the  conclusion  of  Berkeley  and  other 
thinkers.  Transfer  speculatively  all  substantiality  and  ac- 
tuating power  in  nature  to  a  purely  intelligible  sphere, 
and  this  is  the  necessary  logical  outcome  of  the  assump- 
tion. 

But  if  no  human  beings  really  existed  save  those  dis- 
playing themselves  in  universal  consciousness,  mind  or 
spirit,  whence  the  momentous,  multifold  significance  of  all 
that  visually  appears  to  the  bearer  of  the  revealing  con- 
sciousness, who  can  hardly  be  denied  to  be  an  individual 
being? 

If  it  can  be  shown  that  the  perception  of  other  human 
beings  is  sense-compelled  by  outside  non-mental  influences, 
then  pure  idealism  has  lost  its  vantage-ground.  For  its 
chief  contention  is  to  deny  all  non-mental  existence.  If 
a  solitary  individual  percipient  neither  sees,  nor  touches, 
nor  hears  other  human  beings,  they  remain  wholly  un- 
revealed  to  him.  He  becomes  aware  of  their  existence 
and  presence  solely  by  means  of  sense-compelled  percepts. 
Consequently,  without  such  directly  compelled  sensorial 
experience  perceptual  bodies  of  other  human  beings  would 
not  arise  in  his  conscious  content.  When  they  nevertheless 
appear  independent  of  any  sense-compulsion,  as  in  dreams 
and  hallucinations,  they  are  evidently  the  outcome  of  his 
memorized  fund  of  previous  sensorial  experience.  As  no 
kind  of  mental  phenomena,  and  certainly  no  percept,  can 
be  seen  by  means  of  our  visual  organs  or  touched  with  our 
tactual  organs,  or  heard  with  our  auditory  organs ;  as  they 
have  in  fact  not  the  least  power  to  affect  our  sensorial 
susceptibilities,  we  could,  as  has  been  repeatedly  said,  never 
become  aware  of  other  human  beings,  in  case  they  really 
consisted  of  nothing  but  mind-stuff.  We  become,  however, 
most  distinctly  aware  of  the  body  of  other  human  beings 
by  means  of  sense-compulsion.  Consequently  this  their 
body  must  necessarily  consist  of  something  differing  totally 


DIALOGUE  BETWEEN  IDEALIST  AND  NATURALIST.        69 

from  mind-stuff,  which  has  no  power  whatever  to  affect 
our  sensorial  susceptibilities.  The  presence  and  meaning 
of  the  imperceptible  mental  phenomena  arising  in  the  con- 
scious content  of  sense-revealed  human  beings  we  outside 
observers  get,  on  the  other  hand,  to  know  only  indirectly 
by  means  of  symbolical  physical  signs  emanating  from 
them,  and  being  interpreted  by  our  own  conatural  mental 
experience. 

When  we  consider  by  what  indirect  means  the  real 
extra-conscious  body  or  organism  becomes  perceptually 
revealed :  by  touch  through  feelings  of  resistance,  by  sight 
through  the  vicarious  agency  of  what  are  called  ethereal 
vibrations,  by  hearing  through  the  influence  of  "waves  of 
air,"  by  smell  through  wafted  influences,  by  taste  through 
chemical  affinities;  when  we  consider  these  indirect  sen- 
sorial modes  by  which  the  existence  and  characteristics  of 
the  extra-conscious  world  are  made  to  arise  in  the  wholly 
incommensurable  medium  of  our  conscious  content,  we  can 
form  some  remote  idea  how  profoundly  the  sensorially 
revealed,  power-endowed  bodily  organism,  belonging  to 
the  extra-conscious  world,  must  differ  in  its  real  nature 
from  its  forceless,  evanescent  perceptual  representation. 
This  real  nature  evinces  its  intrinsic  powers  in  the  effects 
it  produces  in  our  world  of  conscious  awareness.  The 
extra-conscious  entity  perceptually  revealed  as  the  living 
organism  is  in  all  reality  the  substantial  being  that  per- 
forms all  vital  functions,  psychical  as  well  as  physical. 

The  real  existence  of  the  bodies  of  other  human  beings, 
independent  of  their  perceptual  appearance,  having,  I 
think,  been  sufficiently  demonstrated,  weighty  naturalistic 
conclusions  follow  therefrom.  It  is  evident,  for  instance, 
that  the  perceptual  awareness  of  my  organism  and  its 
functions  by  an  outside  observer,  being  a  mental  phenom- 
enon appearing  exclusively  in  himself,  cannot  possibly  have 
the  least  effective  influence  on  what  takes  place  exclusively 


7O  THE  MONIST. 

in  myself.  Hence  the  hypothesis  of  psychophysical  paral- 
lelism. The  physical  aspect  is  the  aspect  of  the  outside 
observer,  the  aspect  of  the  physiologist.  The  correspond- 
ing psychical  occurrence — imperceptible  to  the  outside  ob- 
server— takes  place  in  the  observed  subject.  No  wonder, 
then,  that  the  two  entirely  different  experiences,  though 
both  mental,  respectively  occurring  in  two  different  beings, 
run  their  parallel  course  without  in  the  least  affecting  each 
other.  The  physiologist  perceives  as  functions  of  the  per- 
ceptual organism,  which  appears  in  his  conscious  content, 
perceptual  motions.  These  he  has  hitherto  interpreted 
mechanically  by  wrongly  attributing  to  them  forcible  ac- 
tuation, falsely  taking  motion  t6  be  a  force-endowed  entity, 
while  it  is  a  mere  forceless  perceptual  sign  of  real  activity 
astir  in  the  real  extra-conscious,  power-endowed  world  of 
creative  becoming.  And  so  are  all  perceived  motions  in 
nature  mere  perceptual  signs.  Essentially  the  same  sense- 
compelled  percepts,  revealing  the  presence,  characteristics, 
and  activities  of  the  real  extra-conscious  world,  make  their 
appearance  simultaneously  in  ever  so  many  beholders,  en- 
forcing thus  our  belief  and  confidence  in  their  objective 
significance.  The  conscious  content  of  the  individual,  on 
the  other  hand,  reveals  to  him  the  world  as  it  has  become 
synthetically  memorized  in  his  own  being,  and  is  as  such 
wholly  imperceptible  to  the  outsider.  In  the  unitary  con- 
scious content  of  the  individual  the  structurally  organized 
and  memorized  effects  of  the  two  different  modes  of  aware- 
ness, the  outer  and  the  inner,  appear  significantly  blended 
as  "subject-object/'  as  subjectively  assimilated  experience 
of  the  perceptible,  extra-conscious  world  and  the  individ- 
ual's own  conscious  relation  to  it. 

Id.  It  is  true  that  if  other  human  beings  consisted 
bodily — as  pure  idealism  has  to  maintain — of  the  percepts 
which  appear  in  the  conscious  content  of  the  percipient, 
there  would  be  consciously  extant  only  the  self-knowledge 


DIALOGUE  BETWEEN  IDEALIST  AND  NATURALIST.         71 

of  the  one  single  monadic  or  solipsistic  percipient,  in  whose 
conscious  content  all  other  human  beings,  together  with  the 
entire  so-called  external  world,  would  then  miraculously 
arise  as  his  own  perceptual  phantom.  To  posit  specula- 
tively  a  multitude  of  such  monadic  percipients  as  Leibnitz 
and  others  have  done,  in  order,  I  suppose,  to  hide  the  mon- 
strosity of  denying  the  existence  of  other  human  beings 
and  things  is  logically  absurd.  No  single  monad,  not  even 
the  central  monad  of  the  illustrious  Leibnitz,  could  possibly 
become  aware  of  the  the  existence  of  other  monads,  unless 
miraculously  informed.  By  positively  demonstrating  the 
extra-conscious,  bodily  existence  of  other  human  beings, 
revealed  by  means  of  sense-compelled  percepts,  and  by 
recognizing  the  imperceptibility  and  forceless  phenomenal- 
ity  of  such  percepts,  and  indeed  of  all  mental  experience, 
pure  idealism  would  seem  to  be  effectively  refuted,  at  least 
as  regards  the  interpretation  of  the  individual  conscious 
content,  which  it  must  be  confessed  is  the  only  one  we 
directly  know.  But  conceding  all  this  for  the  present,  it 
seems  you  have  not  clearly  shown  that  an  extra-conscious 
organism  alleged  to  correspond  to  the  one  perceptually  re- 
vealed, has  to  be  legitimately  recognized  as  the  acting, 
feeling  and  thinking  individual.  And  by  reducing  mind 
to  a  mere  transitory  forceless  emanation,  inferred  to  issue 
from  an  extra-conscious  living  organism  as  its  functional 
outcome,  you  fail,  I  think,  to  recognize  the  supremely  im- 
portant and  exalted  part  mind  actually  plays  in  our  world. 
Nat.  The  perceptually  revealed  structure  of  the  or- 
ganism, and  its  functions  as  interpreted  in  terms  of  motion, 
are  found,  as  has  been  epistemologically  shown,  to  be  mere 
transitory  symbolical  representations  of  the  real  extra- 
conscious  organism  and  its  vital  activities.  A  genuine 
force-endowed  substantial  entity  is  necessarily  desiderated 
as  permanent  matrix  of  the  fleeting  conscious  content.  This 
has  been  recognized  by  foremost  idealistic  philosophers. 


72  THE   MONIST. 

Leibnitz  asserts  that  "a  correct  view  of  substance  is  the 
key  to  philosophy."  Kant,  with  his  usual  penetrating  in- 
sight, expresses  this  truth  in  the  following  terms:  "Sub- 
stantiality is  the  supreme  and  first  principle  of  nature, 
which  alone  secures  unity  of  experience.  For  without 
something  permanently  abiding  amid  the  Hux  of  temporal 
changes  there  could  be  no  synthetical  connection  and  ap- 
prehension of  natural  phenomena/' 

The  search  after  the  entity  which  combines  in  itself 
the  logically  contradictory  characteristics  of  this  "supreme 
and  first  principle  of  nature/'  namely  permanency  and  a 
flux  of  "temporal  changes,"  was  at  all  times  considered 
the  principal  task  of  philosophy.  Well,  then,  just  such  an 
entity — the  only  one  in  our  world — as  remains  identical, 
while  emanating  all  through  life  the  changeful  and  fleeting 
mental  content;  an  entity  that  maintains  intact  its  own 
integrity  and  efficiency,  while  emitting  in  ever  renewed 
sequence  the  flowing  mental  phenomena ;  such  a  substance 
as  is  necessarily  assumed  by  philosophy,  is  experientially 
found  to  be  actually  given  in  the  living  substance,  of  which 
all  organisms  are  composed. 

What  must  seem  a  miracle  to  pure  idealism,  and  what 
is  logically  contradictory  to  conceptual  thinking — namely 
identity  and  change  combined  in  one  and  the  same  entity — 
is  brought  about  demonstrably  by  the  natural  work  of  per- 
ceptible nature  wrought  in  the  living  substance.  The  seem- 
ing miracle  consists  in  its  structural  and  functional  reinte- 
gration  to  essential  identity  and  efficiency  on  having  suf- 
fered the  functional  disintegration  and  waste  which  neces- 
sarily accompanies  all  vital  activity.  Physically  speaking, 
what  is  called  the  life  of  organic  beings  is  due  to  this  func- 
tional reintegration  from  within  repairing  functional  dis- 
integration induced  from  without.  Such  see-saw  play  of 
disintegration  and  reintegration  in  interaction  with  the 
medium  is  the  process  which  underlies  all  modes  of  vital 


DIALOGUE  BETWEEN  IDEALIST  AND  NATURALIST.         73 

activity.  Hunger  and  nutrition,  fatigue  and  sleep  are  sub- 
servient to  it. 

Without  such  maintenance  of  identity  amid  constant 
change  the  living  substance  would  irreparably  consume 
itself,  and  in  no  two  moments  could  the  content  of  conscious 
awareness  remain  identical.  There  could  be  no  abiding 
representative  view  of  the  perceptually  appearing  external 
world,  and  no  sense  of  personal  identity.  Past  experience 
could  not  become  structurally  organized  and  memorized 
so  as  to  appear  on  future  occasions  resuscitated  in  present 
awareness  as  remembered.  Here  we  find  the  valid  natural 
solution  of  momentous  riddles,  that  have  baffled  the  in- 
genuity of  conceptual  thinkers,  and  to  which  biology  alone 
has  the  key. 

Memory  of  acquired  experience  very  evidently  depends 
on  modification  of  what  perceptually  appears  as  organic 
structure.  It  is  the  outcome  of  reiterated  function  modi- 
fying underlying  structure,  and  such  specific  modification 
being  identically  retained  so  as  to  issue  on  incitement  into 
actual  awareness  as  resuscitated  past  experience.  Both 
physical  and  psychical  education  are  wholly  based  on  the 
modifying  of  structural  organization  in  definite  directions. 
The  aim  of  education  is  to  render  new  functional  acquisi- 
tions secondarily  automatic,  which  means  to  render  them 
capable  of  being  performed  without  conscious  assistance 
as  reaction  upon  definite  actual  or  remembered  inciting  in- 
fluences. The  entire  organization  of  the  extoderm,  sensory, 
neural,  and  muscular,  is  in  fact  the  perceptible  result  of 
such  vital  interaction  of  the  living  substance  with  its  en- 
vironment. Hence  reflex-action ;  instinctive  performances, 
such  as  are  most  strikingly  displayed  by  insects;  our  own 
confirmed  habits;  and  educationally  inculcated  abilities. 
Structurally  retained,  latently  memorized  experience  was 
attributed  to  organic  structure  by  Ewald  Hering*  as  early 

*On  Memory,  by  Ewald  Hering.    Chicago :  The  Open  Court  Pub.  Co. 


74  THE  MONIST. 

as  1870.  This  was  a  great  step  towards  a  monistic  inter- 
pretation of  the  relation  of  mind  and  body.  But  believing 
the  process  to  occur  in  the  perceptually  appearing  structure 
itself,  wrongly  held  to  be  of  material  consistency,  valid 
epistemological  objections  prevented  a  more  general  rec- 
ognition of  this  profound  insight  into  the  true  significance 
of  structural  organization.  It  may  be  safely  asserted  of 
all  organization  of  the  living  substance  that  it  perceptibly 
represents  memorized  experience  of  vital  interaction  with 
its  environment,  by  means  of  which  it  has  been  creatively 
elaborated.  Specific  organization  of  the  living  substance 
wrought  in  the  sphere  of  non-mental  existence  is  clearly 
the  work  of  creative  activity  operating  in  depths  of  being 
beyond  the  reach  of  what  we  call  consciousness.  Mind  is 
a  final  result  of  such  creative  activity.  After  endless  phy- 
letic  elaboration  a  microscopic  germ,  under  favorable  con- 
ditions, develops  in  unconscious  darkness  into  a  faithful 
reproduction  of  the  parent  organism.  It  issues  then  into 
the  open  w7orld  innately  provided  with  the  specific  struc- 
tures that  underlie  its  vital  functions,  physical  and  psy- 
chical. What  stronger  proof  can  be  needed  to  render  cer- 
tain to  unbiased  contemplation  that  mind  is  an  outcome  of 
vital  organization. 

The  fact  that  vital  activity  is  instrumental  in  elaborat- 
ing organic  structure  is  most  obviously  demonstrated  in 
the  gradual  mastering  by  practice  of  new  feats  of  physical 
and  psychical  skill.  The  elaboration  of  the  organic  struc- 
ture forms  part  of  the  inscrutable  creative  process  to  which 
all  elaboration  of  the  multitudinous  formations  of  the  uni- 
verse is  due.  It  is  brought  about  by  means  of  specific 
modes  of  combination  and  interaction  among  existents  that 
help  to  constitute  the  power  -  endowed,  extra  -  conscious 
world.  The  strict  dependence  of  physical  and  psychical 
function  on  the  specific  vital  organization  of  the  perceptible 
living  substance  is  being  more  and  more  precisely  ascer- 


DIALOGUE  BETWEEN  IDEALIST  AND  NATURALIST.         75 

tained  by  comparative  anatomy  and  physiology,  aided  by 
psycho-physical  investigation.  Most  instructive  in  this  con- 
nection is  the  anatomical,  physiological,  and  especially  the 
pathological  study  of  the  neural  structures  that  underlie 
speech  and  its  manifold  defects.  Upon  the  normal  organi- 
zation and  function  of  these  structures  the  rationality  of 
us  thinking  human  beings  absolutely  depends. 

Now,  finally,  with  regard  to  the  "all-important  and 
exalted"  part  mind  is  playing  in  our  human  world,  I  think 
it  is  recognized  rather  more  profoundly  from  the  natural- 
istic standpoint  than  from  the  idealistic  point  of  view. 
Naturalism  and  idealism  acknowledge  in  common  that  the 
conscious  content  is  our  sole  medium  of  world-revelation. 
Consistent  idealism  maintains  that  this  world  of  conscious- 
ness is  the  only  real  world.  Its  revelation  means  conse- 
quently to  the  idealist  its  own  intrinsic  self-significance, 
without  reference  to  anything  outside.  Naturalism,  on  the 
other  hand,  maintains  that  it  is  a  revelation  of  the  presence 
and  practically  significant  characteristics  of  an  extra-con- 
scious, power-endowed  world  of  interacting  real  existents, 
of  which  our  own  real  being  forms  part.  To  naturalism 
multifold  powers  of  nature  conspire  to  elaborate  on  our 
planet  all-revealing  mind,  as  the  crowning  outcome. 

The  revelation  of  the  extra-conscious  world  in  present 
awareness  is  for  us  human  beings  of  paramount  conative 
as  well  as  cognitive  significance.  Our  entire  organism 
being  the  result  of  organically  memorized  phyletic  inter- 
action with  the  environment,  its  present  conscious  memory 
wells  up  from  unfathomable  depths  of  structurally  organ- 
ized experience.  Such  experience  evinces  itself  consciously 
first  as  organic  needs  with  impulsions  to  instinctive  activ- 
ities structurally  organized  to  satisfy  them  in  relation  to 
the  special  environment,  to  which  the  organism  has  become 
phyletically  adapted.  In  higher  structural  regions  it  mani- 
fests itself  in  harmonized  experience  that  imparts  order, 


76  THE   MONIST. 

unity  and  beauty  to  the  revelation  of  the  conscious  content ; 
further  in  what  Plato  called  anamnesis,  and  in  transcen- 
dent intuitions,  emotions  and  aspirations.  Hence  reveren- 
tial awe  in  presence  of  the  inscrutable  might  that  creatively 
labors  with  birth-throes  of  progressive  attainments ;  hence 
our  superindividual  worth  as  bearers  of  the  achieved  re- 
sults of  endless  vital  travail;  hence  the  emotive  thrills  of 
soul-stirring  music,  the  faculty  of  artistic  creation,  and 
of  all  manner  of  exalted  performances  by  those  among  us 
who  deserve  the  name  of  genius ;  hence  the  inspiring  swell 
of  symphonious  cosmic  and  social  consciousness ;  and  hence 
the  sacred  import  of  family  ties,  and  the  ever  widening 
range  of  altruistic  sentiments. 

The  structures  underlying  conscious  manifestation— 
our  conative  propensities  included — are  so  organized  as  to 
focus  in  our  present  moment  of  awareness  a  whole  world  of 
gradually  accumulated  and  systematically  organized  ex- 
perience. This  is  accomplished  by  the  issuing  in  practically 
simultaneous  awareness  of  a  more  or  less  rationalized  sys- 
tem of  representative  mental  signs.  By  recognizing  their 
inner  and  outer  significance  there  is  offered  to  the  per- 
cipient for  free  choice  of  volitional  activity  a  manifoldness 
of  possible  directions,  and  therefore  an  opening  for  over- 
ruling mere  instinctive  impulsions.  The  deliberate  choice 
among  these  different  possibilities  presented  to  purposive 
actuation  determines  our  more  or  less  rational  and  ethical 
conduct  in  life. 

By  means  of  socially  gathered  experience,  consciously 
concentrated  in  present  awareness,  and  the  volitional  choice 
of  a  rational  and  ethical  course  of  action  in  relation  to 
our  physical  and  social  surroundings,  progressive  organic 
elaboration  towards  higher  fulfilment  becomes  inwrought 
into  the  structures  that  underlie  the  conscious  content.  The 
creative  process  is  the  same  as  that  by  which  has  been 
developed  the  hitherto  attained  humanization  of  our  orig- 


DIALOGUE  BETWEEN  IDEALIST  AND  NATURALIST.         77 

inal  animal  nature,  while  concomitantly  it  has  resulted  in 
enriching  and  enhancing  the  source,  whence  our  world- 
revelation  issues  now  into  present  awareness  magically 
outspread  before  our  glorified  vision,  the  familiar  play- 
ground of  ineffable  joys  and  griefs  deeply  astir  in  the 
warp  and  woof  of  our  emotional  nature.  Living  structure, 
as  perceptually  revealed  in  the  exquisitely  minute  and  sig- 
nificant organization  of  the  human  brain,  is  the  veritable 
embodiment  of  the  perennial,  phyletically  developed,  soul- 
life,  of  which  we  now  here  are  the  transitory  bearers  and 
beneficiaries. 

Id.  Granting  that  an  extra-conscious  world,  peopled 
by  extraconscious  human  beings  really  exists,  as  is  the 
conviction  of  unsophisticated  persons,  your  epistemological 
and  biological  interpretation  of  nature  seems  plausible. 
Philosophers,  however,  unused  to  give  due  weight  to  bio- 
logical facts,  and  who  have  come  firmly  to  believe  in  mind, 
intelligence  or  reason  as  the  veritable  power-endowed  cos- 
mical  entity,  will  be  impressed  by  it  as  all  too  mundane, 
and  its  account  of  laborious  world-creation,  with  mind  as 
the  crowning  outcome,  all  too  irksomely  accomplished  to  be 
brought  into  harmony  with  divine  might,  and  its  free  ex- 
ercise. 

EDMUND  MONTGOMERY. 

LIENDO  PLANTATION,  HEMPSTEAD,  TEXAS. 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  PERSONAL  EQUATION. 

"Of  whatever  temperament  a  professional  philosopher  is,  he 
tries,  when  philosophizing,  to  sink  the  fact  of  his  temperament. 
Temperament  is  no  conventionally  recognized  reason,  so  he 
urges  impersonal  reasons  only  for  his  conclusions.  Yet  his 
temperament  really  gives  him  a  stronger  bias  than  any  of  his 
more  strictly  objective  premises.  It  loads  the  evidence  for 
him  one  way  or  the  other,  making  for  a  more  sentimental  or 
a  more  hard-hearted  view  of  the  universe,  just  as  this  fact  or 
that  principle  would.  He  trusts  his  temperament.  Wanting  a 
universe  that  suits  it,  he  believes  in  any  representation  of  the 
universe  that  does  suit  it" — Wm.  James. 

PRAGMATISM  may  be  characterized  as  a  philosophy 
which  insists  upon  the  significance  of  the  personal 
equation  in  thinking.  There  is  no  doubt  that  the  theory 
works  well  in  explaining  how  certain  thinkers  arrive  at 
definite  results.  It  fails  only — but  in  this  it  fails  most  sig- 
nificantly— in  establishing  a  true  philosophy ;  yea  we  might 
say  that  pragmatism  (if  it  is  to  be  taken  seriously)  actually 
denies  the  possibility  of  philosophy  as  an  objective  science. 
It  deems  the  personal  equation  to  be  the  essential  feature 
of  all  philosophies,  whereby  philosophy  changes  to  a  mere 
expression  of  temperament,  of  mood,  subjective  disposi- 
tion or  the  like ;  in  this  case  philosophy  ought  to  be  classed 
with  belles  lettres  and  be  judged  as  poetry.  This  is  the 
opinion  expressed  in  the  editorial  criticism  of  Pragmatism 
in  The  Monist  (Vol.  XVIII,  pp.32 1  fL),  and  we  are  glad 
to  notice  that  Prof.  Edwin  Tausch  at  the  end  of  his  article 
on  Professor  James  expresses  a  similar  verdict. 

It  is  true  enough  that  the  personal  equation  is  an  im- 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  PERSONAL  EQUATION.  79 

portant  element  in  all  mental  activity ;  even  the  most  mech- 
anical transactions  of  observers  exhibit  a  certain  regularity 
of  definite  fluctuations  due  to  the  makeup  of  the  observer's 
mental  organism.  When  the  astronomer  makes  his  ob- 
servations he  discovers  that  they  are  vitiated  by  certain  ir- 
regularities which  in  the  same  person  keep  within  certain 
boundaries.  They  are  due  to  the  limit  of  exactness  within 
which  the  observer's  nervous  system,  the  eye,  the  ear  and 
the  hand  perform  their  functions.  The  personal  equation 
is  a  factor  which  has  to  be  taken  into  consideration.  Dur- 
ing the  development  of  science  it  has  been  more  and  more 
reduced,  but  it  appears  that  it  can  never  be  absolutely  ob- 
literated, because  organisms  as  well  as  machines  are  never 
absolutely  perfect  but  work  with  accuracy  only  according 
to  the  nicety  of  their  adjustment. 

The  factor  of  the  personal  equation  is  less  important 
where  the  facts  are  plain  and  where  the  observations  con- 
sist (as,  e.  g.,  in  astronomy)  of  mere  measuring  or  count- 
ing, but  it  grows  with  the  complication  of  the  problem. 

In  the  domain  of  philosophy,  religion,  ethics,  sociology, 
political  economy,  and  generally  in  the  interpretation  of  all 
spiritual  aspirations  of  man,  more  personal  interests  are 
at  stake  than  in  astronomy;  and  since  a  general  belief  in 
a  certain  doctrine  is  an  important  factor  in  actual  life, 
man's  judgment  is  much  more  easily  influenced  by  his 
desires  than  in  natural  sciences.  Hence  a  widened  scope 
of  the  personal  equation.  In  political  economy  the  per- 
sonal equation  asserts  itself  so  vigorously  that  it  tries  to 
overrule  the  facts  and  is  usually  in  readiness  to  twist  them 
to  suit  its  own  convenience.  We  know  but  too  well  that 
business  interests,  not  scientific  arguments,  are  the  deci- 
sive factors  that  shape  man's  views  concerning  the  tariff, 
and  conditions  are  similar  when  our  favorite  ideals  are 
under  discussion,  our  notions  of  God,  the  soul,  of  immor- 
tality and  ethics. 


8O  THE  MONIST. 

Men  who  allow  their  views  in  politics  to  be  shaped  by 
private  interests  lack  breadth  of  mind  and  fairness  towards 
others,  while  sentimentalists  who  are  incapable  of  logical 
reasoning  whenever  their  feelings  are  engaged  are  patho- 
logical. It  is  true  that  very  few  people  can  boast  of  a 
perfect  mental  health,  but  we  need  not  for  that  reason  sur- 
render our  aspiration  for  objectivity  in  thought  and  leave 
the  decision  as  to  what  should  be  recognized  as  truth  to 
the  prejudices  of  subjective  preferences. 

The  mistake  of  the  pragmatist  consists  in  regarding  the 
part  which  the  personal  equation  plays  as  the  essential 
feature  of  cognition.  What  is  a  mere  shortcoming  of 
thought  is  raised  to  the  dignity  of  the  main  principle.  In 
the  pre-scientific  age  almost  all  practical  problems  of  life 
were  settled  more  in  accord  with  the  dictates  of  the  will 
than  of  the  intellect.  Nevertheless  the  intellect  was  not  in- 
active. The  intellect  has  gradually  asserted  itself  more  and 
more  and  from  the  domain  of  the  will  it  has  wrested  the 
formulation  of  one  doctrine  after  another.  Sometimes  it 
upset  old  cherished  errors,  and  sometimes  it  modified  the 
traditional  view  by  adapting  it  to  new  conditions. 

During  the  present  age  the  influence  of  science  on  re- 
ligion has  grown  more  and  more  and  the  will  to  believe 
has  become  less  and  less  the  ultimate  determinant  of  re- 
ligious convictions.  We  are  fully  convinced  that  there  are 
not  two  domains  of  truth,  one  the  noetic,  the  other  the 
teleological  or  spiritual.  The  so-called  spiritual  sciences, 
psychology,  the  history  of  religion,  philosophy,  ethics,  are 
based  on  a  condition  of  objective  facts  just  as  much  as  is 
the  knowledge  of  the  purely  mechanical  processes  of  na- 
ture. There  is  only  this  difference,  that  men  of  a  senti- 
mental temperament  are  more  easily  influenced  in  their 
judgments  in  the  so-called  spiritual  domain  of  the  sciences, 
philosophy,  psychology,  ethics,  etc.,  while  the  scope  for 
difference  in  the  domain  of  the  intellectual  truth,  logic, 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  PERSONAL  EQUATION.  8l 

physics,  chemistry,  astronomy,  etc.,  is  scarcely  any  longer 
possible. 

To  the  pre-scientific  man  conviction  is  truth,  and  the 
intensity  of  his  conviction  is  naively  accepted  as  the  meas- 
ure of  the  reliability  of  truth.  The  pragmatist  is  really 
naive  enough  to  continue,  or  rather  to  fall  back  upon  this 
pre-scientific  stage  of  thought.  So  he  looks  upon  science 
as  an  assumption  and  has  no  use  for  the  work  of  those 
philosophers  who  have  laid  a  foundation  for  philosophy  as 
an  objective  science.  In  this  sense  pragmatists  declare 
Kant  to  be  antiquated,  ein  uberwundener  Standpunkt. 

Think  what  would  become  of  the  reliability  of  astron- 
omy if  we  had  to  look  upon  the  theories  of  Copernicus, 
Kepler  and  Newton  as  the  products  of  personal  equations 
simply  because  an  element  of  personal  equation  is  to  be 
taken  into  account  in  the  astronomical  calculations. 

Pragmatism  has  taken  a  strong  hold  upon  the  present 
generation,  but  it  remains  to  be  hoped  that  this  is  more  due 
to  the  attractive  personality  of  Professor  James  than  to  any 
intrinsic  power  in  its  leading  ideas.  If  pragmatism  were 
right  the  only  scientific  treatment  of  a  philosophy  would 
be  the  one  which  Professor  Tausch  administers  to  Pro- 
fessor James.  He  abstains  from  critically  investigating 
the  latter's  views  but  analyzes  his  doctrines  and  explains 
them  in  terms  of  genetic  psychology.  It  looks  more  like 
a  physician's  diagnosis  than  a  philosophical  inquiry,  the 
more  so  when  we  notice  that  even  in  his  methods  Professor 
Tausch  is  inclined  to  imitate  Dr.  Morton  Prince  when  he 
deals  with  disintegrated  personalities. 

I  agree  with  Professor  James  in  the  recognition  of  the 
personal  element  that  enters  into  the  makeup  of  our  philos- 
ophies, but  while  I  propose  to  eliminate  it  and  build  upon 
the  assured  conclusions  of  our  thought  a  philosophy  of 
objective  significance,  he,  being  a  man  of  strong  sentiment, 
is  so  overwhelmed  by  the  paramount  part  which  the  per- 


82  THE  MONIST. 

sonal  equation  plays  that  he  proclaims  a  doctrine  called 
pragmatism  which  however  would  be  more  correctly  de- 
scribed as  a  philosophy  of  the  personal  equation. 

It  is  true  that  in  philosophy,  and  in  still  higher  degree  in 
religion,  it  is  very  difficult  for  any  man  to  discriminate  be- 
tween objectively  assured  arguments  and  his  own  personal 
equation,  nevertheless  it  is  not  impossible  to  do  so,  and  wre 
take  the  progress  of  science,  especially  the  obvious  influence 
of  science  upon  religion,  as  an  evidence  of  our  statement. 
We  grant  further  that  those  philosophers  in  whom  the 
personal  equation  is  greatest,  are  most  emphatic  in  the 
defence  of  their  very  errors,  for  when  men  of  intense  con- 
victions are  unable  to  prove  their  belief,  they  make  up  for 
the  lack  of  logic  by  a  display  of  the  vigor  of  their  faith.  This 
is  but  natural  and  Professor  James  goes  too  far  when  he 
accuses  philosophers  of  dishonesty  declaring  that  they  pass 
over  in  silence  the  most  important  arguments  of  their 
views.  It  is  merely  the  character  of  a  pre-scientific  state 
of  culture. 

When  I  consider  my  own  case,  I  must  grant  that  the 
power  of  sentiment  should  not  be  underrated.  Having 
freqently  been  obliged  to  let  very  intense  convictions  based 
upon  inherited  and  early  acquired  habits  be  overruled  by 
a  calm  consideration  of  the  truth,  I  know  very  well  that 
the  personal  equation  exists,  but  I  know  also  that  it  can  be 
reduced  to  considerably  lower  terms,  and  I  deem  it  the 
duty  of  every  thinker  to  eliminate  as  much  as  possible  in 
his  search  for  truth  the  vitiating  factor  of  his  personal 
preferences. 

But  is  not  perhaps  the  entire  fabric  of  all  philosophies 
made  up  of  strands  that  can  be  resolved  into  the  fibers  of 
our  personal  equation  ?  The  thoughts  of  many  people  are 
indeed  so  interlaced  with  their  sentimental  natures  that  if 
we  consider  their  cases  individually  it  would  seem  hopeless 
to  let  them  establish  a  conception  of  the  universe  that  would 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  PERSONAL  EQUATION.  83 

possess  any  objective  reliability.  Nevertheless  there  are 
scientific  minds  who  can  formulate  statements  with  ob- 
jective exactness.  The  multitudes  of  people  are  unscien- 
tific, but  science  is  not  for  that  reason  impossible. 

Science  is  not  only  possible,  science  is  a  fact.  And  if 
it  be  granted  that  science  is  a  fact,  we  can  make  bold  to 
say  that  scientific  method  must  be  reliable.  Here  is  the 
basis  of  the  philosophy  of  science. 

The  philosophy  of  science  is  first  the  science  of  science, 
or  methodology;  then  the  synthesis  of  all  the  sciences  in 
their  unison,  or  ontology,  including  their  systematized  re- 
sult, or  a  scientific  world-conception ;  and  thirdly  the  appli 
cation  of  this  world-conception  to  practical  life;  we  may 
call  it  pragmatology  which  includes  ethics,  sociology,  the 
crafts,  inventions,  art,  etc.  This  domain  of  philosophy 
is  as  solid  ground  as  any  field  of  the  natural  sciences  and 
the  personal  equation  of  the  philosopher,  far  from  being 
the  dominant  factor,  is  here  as  in  astronomical  calculations 
only  a  source  of  error. 

A  philosopher's  personal  equation  lies  mostly  in  his 
sentiments  and  it  would  seem  that  a  rigorously  scientific 
thought  would  leave  no  room  for  sentiment,  but  such  is 
not,  or  at  any  rate  need  not  be,  the  case.  Science  does  not 
antagonize  sentiment ;  it  would  only  protest  that  sentiment 
should  perform  the  function  of  thought.  Let  the  mind  think 
and  the  heart  feel,  but  when  the  heart  governs  the  head, 
the  mentality  of  man  is  apt  to  lose  its  strength. 

I  grant  most  emphatically  that  the  noetic  function  of 
man's  soul  is  not  the  only  feature  that  needs  cultivation; 
the  domain  of  sentiment  and  will  with  all  that  they  imply, 
enthusiasm,  sympathy,  emotional  yearnings,  devotion,  re- 
ligion, the  love  of  art,  music,  etc.,  have  their  due  place  in 
our  lives  and  should  not  be  neglected.  But  the  intellect 
should  after  all  remain  the  supreme  court  of  all  final  de- 
cisions. The  intellect  should  not  be  degraded  into  an  an- 


84  THE  MONIST. 

cilia  voluntatis,  a  handmaid  of  either  the  will  or  sentiment, 
but  should  be  as  independent  as  is  the  judiciary  in  a  well- 
governed  state. 

Sentiment,  religion  and  artistic  tastes  are  indispensable 
attainments,  but  even  these  need  the  guiding  hand  of  in- 
tellectual comprehension.  The  intellect  is  the  organ  of  rea- 
son, of  logic,  of  inquiry,  of  grasping  the  truth,  of  com- 
prehending the  objective  order  of  the  world,  of  solving  the 
problems  of  existence,  and  of  a  redemption  from  the  many 
unnecessary  evils  of  life.  The  intellect  is  truly  the  organ 
in  which  God,  the  authority  of  moral  conduct,  the  standard 
of  truth,  the  norm  of  the  laws  of  nature,  reveals  himself. 
The  intellect  distinguishes  humanity  from  the  brute  crea- 
tion, for  the  beast  is  possessed  of  sentiment  and  joy  of  life 
(sometimes  even  of  noble  sentiments)  just  as  much  as  man, 
and  the  intellect  alone  can  pave  the  way  of  progress.  Even 
in  the  field  of  sentiment  and  ethics,  it  is  the  guidance  of  the 
intellect  that  can  improve  the  will  and  ennoble  man's  feel- 
ings and  purify  his  religion.  Neglect  to  cultivate  the  in- 
tellect and  man  will  return  to  the  savage  state. 

In  the  etymological  meaning  of  the  term  the  philosophy 
of  science  is  the  true  pragmatism.  It  is  pragmatic,  if  prag- 
matism means  that  the  truth  must  be  tested  by  practical 
experience.  But  pragmatism  as  propounded  by  Professor 
James  antagonizes  rationalism,  monism  and  the  philosophy 
of  science. 

Being  opposed  to  theory,  to  the  principle  of  consistency, 
to  monism  and  to  any  unity  or  systematization,  pragmatism 
drifts  into  pluralism  as  surely  as  a  disintegrated  soul  will 
develop  a  multiple  personality.  The  result  will  be  a  real- 
ism, a  clinging  to  the  facts — not  objectively  assured  facts, 
but  facts  of  an  uncritical  experience,  facts,  as  mirrored  in 
a  purely  subjective  interpretation  of  sentiment.  Such  is 
pragmatism,  the  philosophy  of  personal  equation ! 

EDITOR. 


A  POSTSCRIPT  ON  PRAGMATISM. 

IN   COMMENT  ON   PROFESSOR  JAMES'S   REVIEW   OF   MARCEL 
HEBERT'S  BOOK.* 

WHILE  reading  the  proofs  of  the  article  "The  Phi- 
losophy of  Personal  Equation,"  and  preparing 
the  present  number  for  the  press,  I  received  from  Pro- 
fessor James  his  reply  to  Marcel  Hebert  who  he  thinks  suf- 
fers from  "the  usual  fatal  misapprehension"  of  the  critics 
of  pragmatism.  It  is  strange  that  all  his  critics  agree  in 
misinterpreting  Professor  James's  conception  of  truth.  He 
says : 

"How  comes  it,  then,  that  our  critics  so  uniformly  accuse  us  of 
subjectivism,  of  denying  the  reality's  existence?  It  comes,  I  think, 
from  the  necessary  predominance  of  subjective  language  in  our  anal- 
ysis." 

In  my  critique  of  pragmatism  (Monist,  XVIII,  320) 
I  have  anticipated  Professor  James's  complaint  and  have 
therefore  avoided  recapitulating  his  views,  but  always 
quoted  him  in  his  ipsissima  verba,  and  if  words  mean 
what  they  say,  Professor  James  is  decidedly  to  be  blamed 
if  he  has  been  uniformly  misunderstood.  I  request  our 
readers  to  go  over  the  definitions  given  by  Professor 
James  himself,  and  look  them  up  either  in  my  quotations 
or,  better  still,  in  his  own  book.  Pragmatism.  He  says: 

*Le  pragmatisme  et  ses  dnerses  formes  anglo-ame'ricaines.  Reviewed  in 
The  Journal  of  Philosophy,  Psychology  and  Scientific  Methods,  Dec.  3,  1908. 


86  THE  MONIST. 

"The  true  is  the  name  of  whatever  proves  itself  to  be  gooa  in 
the  way  of  belief,  and  good,  too,  for  definite,  assignable  reasons." 
— Pragm.  p.  76. 

"  'What  would  be  better  for  us  to  believe'  \  This  sounds  very 
like  a  definition  of  truth." — Pragm.,  p.  77. 

"You  can  say  of  it  then  either  that  'it  is  useful  because  it  is 
true'  or  that  'it  is  true  because  it  is  useful.' '  —Pragm.,  p.  204. 

"A  new  opinion  counts  as  'true'  just  in  proportion  as  it  gratifies 
the  individual's  desire  to  assimilate  the  novel  in  his  experience  to 
his  beliefs  in  stock." — Pragm.,  p.  201. 

"An  idea  is  'true'  so  long  as  to  believe  it  is  profitable  to  our 
lives." — Pragm.,  p.  75. 

I  could  continue  quotations  from  all  the  chapters  of 
Professor  James  to  prove  that  the  language  he  uses  must 
actually  induce  his  critics  to  believe  that  his  conception 
of  truth  is  subjective.  But,  in  his  reply  to  Professor  He- 
bert  he  says: 

"This  subjectivist  interpretation  of  our  position  seems  to  follow 
from  my  having  happened  to  write  (without  supposing  it  necessary 
to  explain  that  I  was  treating  of  cognition  solely  on  its  subjective 
side)  that  in  the  long  run  the  true  is  the  expedient  in  the  way  of 
our  thinking  much  as  the  good  is  the  expedient  in  the  way  of 
our  behavior!  Having  previously  written  that  truth  means  'agree- 
ment with  reality,'  and  insisted  that  the  chief  part  of  the  expediency 
of  any  one  opinion  is  its  agreement  with  the  rest  of  acknowledged 
truth,  I  apprehended  no  exclusively  subjectivistic  reading  of  my 
meaning." 

Judging  from  this  explanation  of  Professor  James, 
pragmatism  agrees  after  all  with  the  time-worn  definition 
of  truth  as  an  idea  in  agreement  with  reality.  And  yet 
Professor  James  has  declared  again  and  again  that  prag- 
matism proposes  a  new  definition  of  truth.  Yea  he  denies 
that  there  is  any  explanation  of  truth  except  in  prag- 
matism. He  says  in  the  present  review : 

"Ours  is  the  only  articulate  attempt  in  the  field  to  say  positively 
what  truth  actually  consists  of." 


A  POSTSCRIPT  ON  PRAGMATISM.  87 

He  italicizes  "consists  of"  to  distinguish  it  from  his 
former  definition  of  truth  as  "agreement  with  reality." 
If  we  trust  him,  no  one  before  the  appearance  of  prag- 
matism had  ever  a  clear  idea  of  what  is  meant  by  truth. 
Especially  are  his  "denouncers"  rebuked.  He  says  of  them : 

"For  them,  when  an  idea  is  true,  it  is  true,  and  there  the  matter 
terminates,  the  word  'true'  being  indefinable.  The  relation  of  the 
true  idea  to  its  object,  being,  as  they  think,  unique,  it  can  be  ex- 
pressed in  terms  of  nothing  else,  and  needs  only  to  be  named  for 
any  one  to  recognize  and  understand  it.  Moreover  it  is  invariable 
and  universal,  the  same  in  every  single  instance  of  truth,  however 
diverse  the  ideas,  the  realities,  and  the  other  relations  between  them 
may  be." 

The  denouncers  of  Professor  James  must  have  strange 
ideas  of  truth,  for  to  them,  even  if  "the  ideas,  realities  and 
other  relations"  are  different,  truth  remains  the  same  "in- 
variable and  universal."  I  am  unfortunate  enough  never  to 
have  seen  such  use  of  the  word  truth,  but  let  us  hear  what 
the  truth  "consists  of"  according  to  Professor  James.  He 
continues : 

"Our  pragmatist  view,  on  the  contrary,  is  that  the  truth-relation 
is  a  definitely  experienceable  relation,  and  therefore  describable  as 
well  as  namable ;  that  it  is  not  unique  in  kind,  and  neither  invariable 
nor  universal.  The  relation  to  its  object  that  makes  an  idea  true 
in  any  given  instance,  is,  we  say,  embodied  in  intermediate  details 
of  reality  which  lead  towards  the  object,  which  vary  in  every  instance, 
and  which  in  every  instance  can  be  concretely  traced.  The  chain  of 
workings  which  an  opinion  sets  up  is  the  opinion's  truth,  falsehood, 
or  irrelevancy,  as  the  case  may  be.  Every  idea  that  a  man  has  works 
some  consequences  in  him,  in  the  shape  either  of  bodily  actions  or 
of  other  ideas.  Through  these  consequences  the  man's  relations  to 
surrounding  realities  are  modified.  He  is  carried  nearer  to  some  of 
them  and  farther  from  others,  and  gets  now  the  feeling  that  the 
idea  has  worked  satisfactorily,  now  that  it  has  not.  The  idea  has 
put  him  into  touch  with  something  that  fulfils  its  intent,  or  it  has 
not." 


88  THE  MONIST. 

I  have  quoted  this  passage  in  full  lest  there  be  any  mis- 
understanding, and  here  Professor  James  says  explicitly, 
"The  chain  of  workings  the  opinion  sets  up  is  the  opinion's 
truth,  falsehood,  or  irrelevancy."  And  then  the  man  "gets 
now  the  feeling  that  the  idea  has  worked  satisfactorily, 
now  that  it  has  not." 

Here  we  have  two  definitions  of  truth  side  by  side,  one 
is  agreement  with  reality,  the  other,  specifically  called  "what 
truth  actually  consists  of,"  is  "the  chain  of  workings 
which  an  opinion  sets  up."  It  must  be  noticed  that  an 
opinion  is  not  truth  and  that  the  application  of  an  opinion 
to  practical  life  is  still  less  the  truth,  whether  or  not  it 
works  satisfactorily. 

In  fact  sometimes  a  positive  lie  works  decidedly  satis- 
factorily. We  must  remember  that  ideas  are  potent  factors 
in  the  history  of  mankind.  If  certain  errors  are  helpful 
to  me  it  may  be  to  my  own  profit  to  spread  them  and  make 
people  believe  in  them.  When  by  special  couriers  Roth- 
schild learned  of  Napoleon's  defeat  at  Waterloo  in  1815, 
he  spread  the  report  through  his  agents  that  the  French 
had  gained  a  decisive  victory  over  the  allied  troops.  His 
own  bank  began  ostentatiously  to  buy  French  and  sell 
Prussian  consols,  but  secretly  was  performing  the  reverse 
transactions  to  a  much  greater  extent.  He  succeeded  in 
spreading  the  untruth  and  it  worked  satisfactorily  and 
yet  we  cannot  say  that  thereby  it  became  a  truth.  Un- 
doubtedly "the  idea  had  put  them  into  touch  with  some- 
thing that  fulfilled  its  intent."  There  was  a  chain  of  work- 
ings set  up,  and  to  the  man  who  pressed  the  button  it 
worked  as  calculated. 

The  idea  and  the  action  which  it  starts  (at  least  so  it 
appears  to  me)  are  two  different  things  which  in  all  circum- 
stances have  to  be  kept  asunder.  I  know  very  well  that 
Professor  James  has  in  mind  other  chains  of  workings, 
but  any  impartial  reader  will  grant — perhaps  he  himself 


A  POSTSCRIPT  ON  PRAGMATISM.  89 

will  concede — that  he  uses  his  words  very  indiscriminately 
and  in  his  definition  he  follows  the  impulse  of  the  moment. 
Some  of  Professor  James's  critics  seem  to  have  confused 
the  ideas  truth  and  reality,  and  when  noticing  the  sub- 
jective trend  in  his  definition  of  truth  have  thought  that 
he  had  denied  the  existence  of  reality  outside.  He  ex- 
pressly states  that  he  believes  in  realities  and  so  there 
need  be  no  quarrel  about  it,  although  to  him  realities  are 
only  "objects  believed  in."  Professor  James  says: 

"  Since  the  only  realities  we  can  talk  about  are  such  objects- 
believed-in,  the  pragmatist,  whenever  he  says  'reality/  means  in  the 
first  instance  what  may  count  for  the  man  himself  as  a  reality,  what 
he  believes  at  the  moment  to  be  such/' 

According  to  this  definition,  the  vision  of  a  dreamer 
if  it  is  only  believed  in,  is  a  reality, — of  course  we  must 
add,  "to  him,"  and  "at  the  moment."  It  may  not  be  a 
reality  to  others  or  to  him  at  another  time.  Under  these 
circumstances  had  we  not  better  avoid  the  phrase  "reality 
to  him"  and  offer  in  its  stead  a  definition  of  reality  without 
any  qualification,  and  in  contrast  to  such  realities  as  are 
mere  objects  believed  in? 

Professor  James  is  a  pluralist,  and  everywhere  he  sees 
the  many  where  scientific  method  requires  us  to  single 
out  those  features  which  are  typical  and  universal.  He 
further  demands  the  verification  of  truth  by  the  senses, 
the  reality  must  be  "felt"  to  be  verified. 

Mr.  Charles  S.  Peirce  showed  in  articles  published 
about  thirty  years  ago,  that  there  is  a  certain  stage  in  man's 
development  in  which  he  has  not  yet  an  adequate  concep- 
tion of  truth,  nor  does  he  care  to  discover  the  truth.  What 
he  cares  for  is  merely  a  settlement  of  doubt.  Doubt  is  a 
state  of  disturbed  equilibrium  which  causes  uneasiness. 
Doubt  must  be  removed  in  one  way  or  another  and  Mr. 
Peirce  calls  the  settlement  of  doubt  very  appropriately, 
"the  fixation  of  belief."  Professor  James  has  confessed 


90  THE   MONIST 

that  this  same  article  of  Mr.  Peirce  has  influenced  him  in 
the  formation  of  his  philosophy  of  pragmatism,  and  we 
cannot  help  thinking  that  Professor  James  calls  truth  what 
in  Mr.  Peirce's  language  is  merely  "the  fixation  of  belief." 
Lest  we  are  accused  of  misrepresenting  Professor  James's 
position  we  will  without  any  further  comments  quote  the 
following  passage  in  which  he  answers  his  critics: 

"Sometimes  the  reality  is  a  concrete  sensible  presence.  The  idea, 
for  example,  may  be  that  a  certain  door  opens  into  a  room  where 
a  glass  of  beer  may  be  bought.  If  opening  the  door  leads  to  the 
actual  sight  and  taste  of  the  beer,  the  man  calls  the  idea  true.  Or 
his  idea  may  be  that  of  an  abstract  relation,  say  of  that  between  the 
sides  and  the  hypothenuse  of  a  triangle,  such  a  relation  being,  of 
course,  a  reality  quite  as  much  as  a  glass  of  beer  is.  If  the  thought 
of  such  a  relation  leads  him  to  draw  auxiliary  lines  and  to  compare 
the  figures  they  make,  he  may  at  last,  perceiving  one  equality  after 
another,  see  the  relation  thought  of,  by  a  vision  quite  as  particular 
and  direct  as  was  the  taste  of  the  beer.  If  he  does  so,  he  calls  that 
idea,  also,  true.  His  idea  has,  in  each  case,  brought  him  into  closer 
touch  with  a  reality  felt  at  the  moment  to  verify  just  that  idea.  Each 
reality  verifies  and  validates  its  own  idea  exclusively ;  and  in  each 
case  the  verification  consists  in  the  satisfactorily-ending  conse- 
quences, mental  or  physical,  which  the  idea  was  able  to  set  up.  These 
'workings'  differ  in  every  single  instance,  they  never  transcend  ex- 
perience, they  consist  of  particulars,  mental  or  sensible,  and  they 
admit  of  concrete  description  in  every  individual  case.  Pragmatists 
are  unable  to  see  what  you  can  possibly  mean  by  calling  an  idea  true, 
unless  you  mean  that  between  it  as  a  terminus  a  quo  in  some  one's 
mind  and  some  particular  reality  as  a  terminus  ad  quern,  such  con- 
crete workings  do  or  may  intervene.  Their  direction  constitutes  the 
idea's  reference  to  that  reality,  their  satisfactoriness  constitutes  its 
adaptation  thereto,  and  the  two  things  together  constitute  the  'truth' 
of  the  idea  for  its  possessor.  Without  such  intermediating  portions 
of  concretely  real  experience  the  pragmatist  sees  no  materials  out 
of  which  the  adaptive  relation  called  truth  can  be  built  up." 

Professor  James  speaks  also  of  Professor  Schiller  of 
Oxford  endorsing  his  views.  He  says :  "Schiller's  doctrine 
and  mine  are  identical,  only  our  expositions  follow  different 


A  POSTSCRIPT  ON  PRAGMATISM.  QI 

directions."     Of  Schiller's  conception  of  truth,  Professor 
James  says: 

"To  be  true,  it  appears,  means,  for  that  individual,  to  work 
satisfactorily  for  him ;  and  the  working  and  the  satisfaction,  since 
they  vary  from  case  to  case,  admit  of  no  universal  description.  What 
works  is  true  and  represents  a  reality,  for  the  individual  for  whom  it 
works.  If  he  is  infallible,  the  reality  is  'really'  there;  if  mistaken 
it  is  not  there,  or  not  there  as  he  thinks  it.  We  all  believe,  when  our 
ideas  work  satisfactorily ;  but  we  don't  yet  know  who  of  us  is  in- 
fallible. Schiller,  remaining  with  the  fallible  individual,  and  treating 
only  of  reality-for-him,  seems  to  many  of  his  readers  to  ignore 
reality-in-itself  altogether.  But  that  is  because  he  seeks  only  to  tell 
us  how  truths  are  attained,  not  what  the  content  of  those  truths, 
when  attained,  shall  be.  It  may  be  that  the  truest  of  all  beliefs  shall 
be  that  in  transsubjective  realities.  It  certainly  seems  the  truest,  for 
no  rival  belief  is  as  voluminously  satisfactory,  and  it  is  probably  Dr. 
Schiller's  own  belief ;  but  he  is  not  required,  for  his  immediate  pur- 
pose to  profess  it.  Still  less  is  he  obliged  to  assume  it  in  advance  as 
the  basis  of  his  discussion." 

It  is  astonishing  how  Professor  James  ignores  the  most 
obtrusive  facts  of  the  history  of  philosophy.  To  him  the 
pragmatic  "is  the  only  articulate  attempt  in  the  field  to 
say  positively  what  truth  actually  consists  of,"  and  he  as- 
sumes that  the  opponents  of  pragmatism  never  thought 
about  truth.  In  his  opinion  they  simply  claim  that  "when 
an  idea  is  true,  it  is  true,  and  there  the  matter  terminates." 
And  with  this  blank  in  his  information  concerning  all  that 
has  been  done  in  the  determination  of  the  nature  of  truth, 
he  starts  the  world  over  again  and  repeats  the  errors  of 
the  sophists  which  characterize  the  pre-Socratic  period, 
the  very  beginning  of  the  history  of  philosophy.  Note  at 
the  same  time  in  the  pragmatism  of  Professor  James  the 
exaggerated  significance  of  the  part  which  the  senses  play 
in  the  determination  of  truth.  In  a  passage  just  quoted, 
Professor  James  emphasizes  the  word  "felt"  as  if  a  feeling 
of  fitness  were  the  essential  element  in  the  constitution  of 


92  THE  MONIST. 

truth.  He  describes  the  process  of  discovering  truth  by 
saying  that  "his  idea  has  in  each  case  brought  him  into 
closer  touch  with  a  reality  felt  at  the  moment  to  verify 
just  that  idea."  Note  here  how  he  clings  to  the  particular, 
"in  each  case,"  and  "felt  at  the  moment,"  and  it  must  be 
"just  that  idea."  Nor  is  it  enough  to  use  the  word  "felt"; 
he  also  speaks  of  "touch."  So  much  is  he  afraid  to  trust 
the  mental  process  which  would  lead  him  to  the  universal. 

Truth  is  not  of  the  senses  but  of  the  mind.  The  senses 
never  produce  either  truth  or  untruth ;  it  is  our  faculty  of 
the  purely  formal  (commonly  called  reason)  that  works 
out  judgments  that  are  either  true  or  untrue,  and  we  verify 
these  judgments  by  exactness  in  the  application  of  logic, 
arithmetic,  geometry,  etc.  The  senses  only  furnish  the 
data ;  and  if  the  senses  are  not  sufficiently  guided  they  yield 
very  unreliable  results,  in  evidence  of  which  we  refer  to 
so-called  sense  illusions. 

To  the  pragmatist,  truth  is  always  particular,  and  in 
the  statement  endorsed  by  Professor  James,  Professor 
Schiller  even  goes  so  far  as  to  say  that  truths  "admit  of 
no  universal  description."  There  are  many  indications 
that  pragmatism  cannot  distinguish  between  facts  and 
truths,  and  this  is  one  of  them.  We  must  remember  that 
a  statement  of  fact  may  be  true,  but  it  is  not  a  truth.  A 
truth  is  always  a  formulation  of  the  essential  features  of 
a  set  of  facts.  Truths  are  not  concrete  realities,  but  ideas 
that  appropriately  describe  certain  characteristics  of  real- 
ities, so  as  to  make  our  anticipations  tally  with  experience 
in  the  past  and  present  and  even  in  the  future.  While 
facts  are  always  particular,  truths  are  always  general; 
facts  are  verified  by  the  senses,  truths  by  the  mind;  facts 
change,  truths  (if  they  were  ever  real  truths  and  not 
errors)  remain  true  forever. 

We  grant  that  the  way  to  truth  is  mostly  by  approxima- 
tion, and  frequently  passes  through  errors.  Yea,  these 


A  POSTSCRIPT  ON  PRAGMATISM.  93 

errors  are  sometimes  stoutly  believed  in  with  great  tenac- 
ity and  are  even  forced  upon  unbelievers  by  such  drastic 
arguments  as  dungeon  and  fagots,  but  this  vigor  of  con- 
viction never  changes  them  into  real  truths. 

Since  Professor  James  endorses  the  old  definition  of 
truth,  apparently  forgetful  of  other  utterances  he  has  made, 
we  might  come  to  the  conclusion  that  pragmatism  (for- 
merly vaunted  as  a  novel  theory  of  truth)  is  nothing  new 
after  all,  and  that  its  sole  claim  to  originality  consists  in  the 
emphasis  laid  on  the  practical  application  of  truth,  with- 
out which  truth  is  not  yet  truth  were  it  not  for  the  fact  that 
philosophers  and  educators  from  the  time  of  Socrates  to  the 
present  day  have  insisted  on  this  point  almost  ad  nauseam, 
so  as  to  make  the  doctrine  that  truths  must  be  verified  by 
experience  and  applied  to  practical  life,  trite. 

It  appears  that  pragmatism  is  still  in  a  plastic  state, 
its  doctrines  are  not  yet  matured  and  cannot  be  expected 
to  be  consistent ;  they  are  developing  under  our  eyes.  There 
is  reason  to  hope  that  when  it  has  attained  years  of  dis- 
cretion its  conception  of  truth  will  look  very  much  like  that 
of  the  old  philosophers,  now  so  ostentatiously  decried  by 
our  pragmatist  friends. 

We  oppose  pragmatism  as  a  philosophy  and  we  criti- 
cize its  conception  of  truth.  But  for  all  that,  we  find  the 
movement  very  interesting  and  instructive.  If  pragmatism 
would  not  lay  claim  to  being  a  new  philosophy,  but  if  it 
would  merely  be  a  psychological  method  of  determining 
the  establishment  of  truth  in  the  several  philosophies  by 
evaluating  the  purposes  and  tendencies  under  which  a  phi- 
losophy has  been  formed  and  taking  into  consideration  the 
personal  equation  of  the  several  thinkers,  we  would  recom- 
mend it  as  an  extremely  practical  and  useful  method.  The 
public  at  large  is  too  apt  to  overlook  that  the  purpose  of 
science  is  its  practical  application.  Man  is  not  a  purely 
intellectual  animal.  His  intellect,  including  all  the  truths 


94  THE  MONIST. 

he  can  establish,  serves  the  purpose  of  enhancing  his  life. 
Accordingly  the  most  important  part  of  every  philosophy 
will  always  be  its  pragmatical  aspect,  and  this  is  a  truth 
which  has  been  recognized  since  time  immemorial,  except 
that  now  and  then  it  is  forgotten.  The  easiest  way  to 
reconstruct  the  several  philosophies  of  past  ages  will  be  to 
point  out  the  needs  of  the  generation,  the  duties  with  which 
it  was  confronted,  the  tasks  which  had  to  be  performed, 
and  if  we  bear  these  practical  points  in  mind  we  are  not 
likely  to  misunderstand  if  in  one  period  emphasis  is  placed 
on  one  special  aspect  of  the  truth,  while  at  another  the 
very  opposite  may  come  to  the  fore-ground.  And  this 
is  true  mainly  in  those  branches  of  philosophy  which  are  of 
a  practical  nature,  ethics,  pedagogy,  religion,  the  policy 
of  the  churches,  political  economy,  etc.  Pragmatism  as 
a  philosophy  is  an  evidence  of  this.  In  emphasizing  the 
practical  significance  of  truth,  it  goes  so  far  as  even  to 
deny  the  value  of  theory,  of  consistency,  systematization, 
etc.,  and  when  taken  to  task,  Professor  James  naively  de- 
clares that  the  old  definition  of  truth  has  to  be  taken  for 
granted. 

EDITOR. 


THE  CLASSIFICATION  OF  RELIGIONS. 

[CONCLUDED.] 

IV.  According  to  their  Usual  Names,  Locations,  and  Num- 
bers of  Adherents — Geographical  and 
Statistical  Method. 

THE  last  was  the  method  of  time.  This  is  that  of  space. 
In  this,  religions  are  measured  and  compared  accord- 
ing to  extent  or  quantity.  At  first  thought,  this  is  an  ab- 
surdity; yet  like  all  the  others  it  may  teach  its  lesson. 
Coupled  with  careful  ethnological  study,  it  is  likely  to  be- 
come of  great  importance.  Its  virtues  do  not  lie  in  the  way 
of  teaching  the  quality  or  superiority  of  religions,  as  the 
argument  of  number  is  so  often  used.  Numbers  are  never 
a  mark  of  right  and  goodness,  nor  can  they  tell  us  the 
right  way  in  the  higher  things  of  morals  and  religion. 
Notwithstanding  this,  they  are  always  interesting,  and  they 
may  be  of  inestimable  use  in  showing  how  tendencies  have 
carried  themselves  out,  how  principles  have  affected  men, 
by  what  sort  of  principles  they  have  been  moved,  and  to 
what  extent;  and  these  teachings  coupled  with  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  circumstances  in  which  the  given  peoples  were 
placed  and  of  the  stage  of  their  mental  development  when 
the  principles  became  operative,  may  teach  much  concern- 
ing the  methods  and  laws  of  human  progress.  Moreover, 
maps  and  figures  may  show  us  the  strength  of  principles, 
doctrines,  and  tendencies  whose  nature  we  already  know; 
and  if  we  can  procure  good  charts  and  fairly  well  authen- 


96  THE  MONIST. 

ticated  enumerations  of  our  own  and  former  ages,  we  mjiy 
obtain  a  vastly  clearer  and  better  impression  of  the  march 
of  these  principles  and  doctrines  through  the  world  both 
in  reference  to  space  and  time.  To  see  plainly  the  con- 
dition of  things  at  various  periods  in  time,  is  to  grasp  the 
process  of  the  evolution  and  transformation  of  human 
ideas.  Finally,  I  must  say  that  such  an  attempt  is  in  accord 
with  the  spirit  and  aim  of  the  most  advanced  methods  of 
teaching  in  history  and  physical  science.  It  falls  into  line 
with  those  ideals  which  in  these  modern  times  have  filled 
huge  buildings  with  specimens  of  every  sort  ranging 
through  the  three  kingdoms  of  nature — animal,  vegetable, 
and  mineral;  which  equip  great  institutions  with  every 
conceivable  sort  of  mechanical  device  for  illustrating  the 
laws  of  the  physical  world;  which  spare  no  expense  to 
establish  bureaus  of  statistics  and  to  report  everything  sup- 
posed in  any  way  to  have  a  bearing  in  illustrating  the  con- 
ditions and  tendencies  of  nations;  and  which  establish 
signal  service  stations  and  geographical  institutes  in  which 
the  changes  in  the  kingdoms  of  the  heavens  above  and  the 
earth  beneath  may  be  accurately  observed  and  duly  repre- 
sented by  chart  and  statistics. 

i.  GEOGRAPHICAL  DISTRIBUTION. — To  completely  pre- 
sent to  the  eye  the  religious  condition  of  the  world  through 
geographical  relations  one  would  need  a  series  of  "dis- 
solving maps"  representing  the  changes,  transformations, 
and  extensions  of  religions  from  the  earliest  dawn  of  the 
sentiment  in  human  minds  down  to  the  present  day.  From 
lack  of  such  a  desideratum  we  shall  have  to  extemporize 
what  illustration  is  possible  by  means  of  maps  of  this  and 
other  periods.  The  means  are  exceedingly  scarce  and  the 
periods  chosen  for  illustration  must  consequently  be  few. 

(i)  About  1880.  For  the  geographical  extension  of 
the  various  principal  religions  at  the  present  time  I  will 


THE  CLASSIFICATION  OF  RELIGIONS.  97 

refer  to  maps  and  tables  in  Meyer's  Hand-Lexikon,  II,  p. 
1611;  Berghaus's  Phys.  Atlas,  Abt.  VII,  iii,  No.  63;  and 
Droysen,  Historischer  Hand- At  las  (last  map).  Accord- 
ing to  these  best  and  latest  reliable  authorities  which  I 
am  able  to  find,  the  extent  of  the  various  faiths  may,  with 
some  limitations  and  modifications,  be  stated  as  follows: 

Shamanism,  the  highest  development  of  the  so-called 
savage  religions,  has  chief  possession  of  the  mind  in  Africa 
between  10  degrees  north  and  20  degrees  south  of  the 
Equator,  in  Northern  Asia,  Northern  North  America,  and 
Central  South  America. 

Brahmanism  (or  better  Hinduism)  is  now  limited  to 
the  Aryans  in  Eastern  and  Southern  Hindustan. 

Buddhism,  in  variously  modified  forms,  extends  from 
the  middle  of  the  Malacca  Peninsula  northward  including 
Siam,  Anam,  Birmah,  Nepal,  Thibet,  Kashmire,  China, 
Mongolia,  Corea,  into  many  islands  of  the  Pacific,  espe- 
cially Japan,  Formosa,  and  the  Philippine  group,  parts  of 
other  East  India  islands,  the  whole  of  Ceylon,  a  numerous 
following  in  Bactria,  scattered  representatives  in  Siberia, 
and  some  107,500  votaries  in  South-Eastern  Europe. 

Mohammedanism  is  territorially  very  wide  spread  and 
shows  evidence  of  great  vitality  and  activity  at  the  pres- 
ent time.  Its  control  is  well-nigh  complete  from  Arabia 
eastward  over  Persia,  Belloochistan,  Afghanistan,  East 
and  West  Turkestan,  the  Kirgis  Steppe;  and  westward 
over  Syria,  Asia  Minor,  Turkey;  the  whole  of  Northern 
Africa  including  Egypt,  Nubia,  Tripoli,  Fezzan,  Tunis, 
Algeria,  Morocco,  the  Sahara  and  Sudan  regions;  the  East 
Coast  including  Somali,  Galla,  and  Zanzibar;  in  the  East 
Indies,  Sumatra,  Java,  Borneo,  Celebes,  and  the  south  half 
of  Malacca ;  and  a  considerable  representation  in  Hindus- 
tan and  Birmah. 

Christianity  has  three  great  divisions:  Greek  (or  Ori- 
ental), Roman  Catholic,  and  Protestant. 


98  THE   MONIST. 

Greek  Christianity  prevails  almost  entirely  in  Russia, 
Roumania,  Montenegro,  Servia,  and  Greece;  to  a  consid- 
erable extent  also  in  Turkey,  Hungary,  Caucasia,  Armenia, 
Siberia,  and  Abyssinia. 

Roman  Catholicism  has  yet  by  far  the  widest  sway. 
It  is  the  all  prevalent  form  in  Austria,  Italy,  Spain,  Portu- 
gal, France,  Bavaria,  Baden,  Alsace-Lorraine,  Belgium; 
numbers  about  two-fifths  in  Holland  and  the  German  Em- 
pire ;  about  one-half  in  Switzerland ;  prevails  again  in  Mex- 
ico, Central  America,  Columbia,  Equador,  Venezuela, 
Guiana,  Peru,  Bolivia,  Chili,  Argentina,  Uruguay,  Para- 
guay, Brazil,  Hayti,  the  Spanish  and  French  West  Indies, 
the  African  islands  in  the  Atlantic  and  Indian  Oceans; 
numbers  from  150  to  400  in  every  thousand  inhabitants 
of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland,  British  America,  United 
States,  Australia,  New  Zealand,  and  Polynesia;  and  has 
scattering  missions  elsewhere. 

Protestantism,  in  some  of  its  many  varieties,  is  the  chief 
faith  in  Great  Britain,  Denmark,  Norway,  Sweden,  Fin- 
land; enumerates  three-fifths  in  Germany  and  Holland; 
a  little  more  than  one-half  in  Switzerland,  British  Amer- 
ica, Dutch  and  Danish  West  Indies;  four-fifths  in  British 
West  Indies,  United  States,  and  Greenland;  more  than 
half  in  British  South  Africa,  Transvaal  and  Orange  River 
Republic ;  nearly  one-third  in  Madagascar  and  Polynesia ; 
nearly  seven-tenths  in  Australia;  and  very  scantily  suc- 
cessful missions  in  parts  of  Asia  and  Africa  (the  most 
numerous  not  exceeding  7  converts  to  every  1000  inhabi- 
tants of  the  region). 

(2)  About  7500  A.  D*  For  this  and  other  past  pe- 
riods I  have  not  been  able  to  find  published  maps.  Hence 
there  was  no  choice  but  to  extemporize  the  study.  To 
do  this  roughly  from  historic  data  is  not  a  very  difficult 

*  See  also  historic  maps  of  the  period. 


THE  CLASSIFICATION  OF  RELIGIONS.  99 

task.  I  have  therefore  made  this  sketch  to  show  the  re- 
ligious condition  of  the  world  at  some  of  the  great  epochs 
in  religious  history.  We  may  say  in  general  that  at  the 
year  1500  there  was  no  Protestantism,  America  was  un- 
known to  Europeans  and  belonged  to  the  Indians,  Moham- 
medanism had  reached  its  arm  into  South-Eastern  Europe 
but  had  not  pushed  far  southward  into  Africa  nor  far 
eastward  into  Asia,  while  the  Orient  was  scarcely  known, 
though  its  conditions  were  then  nearly  what  they  are  now. 
We  may  sum  up  the  distribution  in  general  thus: 

Romish  Christianity  occupied  Europe  west  of  Russia, 
Turkey  and  Greece. 

Greek  Christianity  covered  South-western  Russia,  parts 
of  Turkey,  Greece,  Asia  Minor,  Northern  Egypt,  and 
Abyssinia. 

Mohammedanism  had  just  been  expelled  from  Spain, 
and  now  ruled  the  north  coast  of  Africa,  Arabia,  Persia, 
Asia  Minor,  parts  of  Turkey,  scattering  peoples  to  the  east 
of  the  Caspian  Sea,  and  to  a  considerable  extent  into  North- 
ern India. 

A  Modified  Brahmanism  took  the  place  of  the  ancient 
faith  in  the  unsubjugated  parts  of  Aryan  India,  while  Bud- 
dhism had  for  a  couple  of  centuries  been  expelled. 

Buddhism  itself  had  spread  everywhere  east  and  north 
into  Farther  India,  Thibet,  China,  Corea,  and  Japan. 

Of  the  rest  of  the  world, — America,  Africa,  Australia, 
and  Polynesia, — we  can  only  conjecture  from  their  later 
character  and  the  fact  that  their  ideas  in  all  the  fields  of 
civilization  were  very  slow  to  move. 

(3)  About  A.  D.  This  marks  another  of  those  great 
epochs  in  which  transformations  begin.  We  have  a  verv 
different  religious  world  to  picture  to  ourselves.  There 
was  as  yet  no  Christianity,  no  Mohammedanism,  and  Bud- 


IOO  THE  MONIST. 

dhism  had  not  traveled  to  Thibet,  China,  or  Japan.  Then 
too,  many  of  the  old  faiths  were  still  living. 

Judaism  was  limited  to  the  little  Roman  colony  of  Pal- 
estine. 

Zeus  and  Jupiter  were  yet  reigning,  but  with  enfeebled 
power  in  Greece  and  Italy. 

Odin  and  Thor  inspired  and  checked  the  fierce  hordes 
of  Teutons  north  of  the  Alps. 

The  Celtic  Druids  managed  the  faith  of  the  Britons. 

Osiris  and  Isis  were  sinking  into  oblivion  in  Egypt. 

Ahura  Mazda,  although  temporarily  weakened  by  as- 
saults from  the  West,  yet  commanded  the  reverence  of  most 
Persian  hearts. 

Buddhism  had  won  the  ascendency  in  India  from  Pun- 
jab to  Ceylon. 

Confucianism  held  well-nigh  unmolested  sway  in  China. 

Of  the  rest  of  the  world  we  know  nothing,  except  what 
archaeology  is  beginning  to  reveal. 

(4)  About  400-500  B.  C.  Here  we  stand  on  the  thresh- 
old of  one  of  the  greatest  epochs  in  history.  Mighty 
changes  were  soon  to  be  effected  in  various  parts  of  the 
world.  New  tendencies  of  mind  and  morals  are  being 
born,  and  the  political  face  of  the  world  is  putting  on  new 
aspects.  The  center  of  political  power  is  in  the  Medo- 
Persian  Empire,  which  is  now  at  its  height.  Greece  too 
has  reached  the  acme  of  its  glory  and  receives  an  irre- 
coverable blow  from  the  monarch  of  the  East.  The  Roman 
Republic  (yet  very  small)  has  just  started  on  its  stormy 
and  brilliant  career.  The  Jews  have  been  carried  into 
captivity.  Babylon  and  Nineveh  are  falling.  Socrates 
(470-399),  Buddha  (560-480),  and  Confucius  (550-478) 
are  now  living  and  have  begun  to  turn  out  the  past  and 
usher  in  the  future.  Surely  change  on  a  great  scale  was 
taking  place  in  men's  spirits  when  in  three  such  widely 


THE  CLASSIFICATION  OF  RELIGIONS.  1OI 

sundered  regions  as  China,  India,  and  Greece,  the  con- 
ditions had  become  such  that  minds  like  these  could  and 
must  be  developed.  Two  things  are  suggested.  First,  the 
religious  notions  of  the  past  were  so  old  as  to  be  worn 
out.  Then  again,  the  nature  conditions  of  the  past  had 
reached  a  stage  where  higher  moral  ground  was  possible, 
was  necessary.  In  these  great  personalities  we  have  the 
mouth-pieces  of  the  higher  things  ready  to  be  spoken  in 
those  lands.  Here  were  crises  of  opportunities  which 
floated  men  into  eternal  fame.  In  other  lands,  before  and 
since,  has  the  like  occurred.  In  Persia,  ages  before  this 
the  old  religion  died  and  the  new  was  spoken  by  Zara- 
thustra.  In  Palestine  ages  later  the  old  formalistic  Juda- 
ism was  to  be  set  away  into  obscurity  by  the  living  prac- 
tical moral  gospel  of  Jesus.  In  Arabia,  after  still  farther 
ages,  the  old  nature  worship  and  animism  was  to  be  re- 
placed through  Mohammed  by  the  call  to  Islam  (Salva- 
tion) and  the  worship  of  Allah  alone. 

2.  Statistics. — The  enumeration  or  estimate  of  the  num- 
ber of  adherents  to  the  various  religions  is  a  work  as  yet 
beset  with  insuperable  difficulties.  In  the  first  place,  there 
is  no  reliable  census  taken  among  more  than  half  the  peo- 
ples of  the  globe.  Of  the  1540  millions  estimated  to  be 
living  at  present,  only  700  millions  may  be  considered  as 
counted  fairly  well.  A  people  must  have  reached  a  very 
high  social  stage  of  civilization  before  the  census  sense 
becomes  operative,  and  some  of  those  who  would  be  sup- 
posed from  their  development  otherwise  to  have  an  interest 
in  knowing  their  numbers,  etc.,  seem  to  have  none.  When 
besides  the  so-called  savage  and  barbarous  world,  which 
includes  the  natives  of  America,  Polynesia,  Australia,  most 
of  Africa,  and  Northern  Asia,  is  added  the  indifference  of 
many  of  the  civilized  nations,  the  difficulty  begins  to  show 
its  greatness.  As  an  illustration  or  two  of  the  latter,  I 
might  remark  that  the  population  of  Constantinople  is 


IO2  THE  MONIST. 

not  known,  and  the  census  of  Cuba  has  never  been  carefully 
taken. 

Then  as  to  the  question  of  making  estimates,  there  are 
double  and  triple  uncertainties.  First,  in  many  of  these 
uncounted  regions  the  population  is  so  changeable  from 
time  to  time  as  to  defy  even  respectable  estimates.  The 
nomadic  and  emigrating  tendencies  of  many  peoples  are 
things  hard  to  take  into  consideration.  They  are  in  this 
way  liable  to  be  counted  twice  or  not  to  be  counted  at  all. 
This  is  further  increased  by  the  wide-spread  practice  of 
kidnapping  slaves  and  wives.  Other  factors,  are  the  great 
variations  of  populations  produced  by  unequal  birth  rates. 
Professor  Ratzel  of  Leipsic  cites  the  case  of  a  single  small 
village  in  Bavaria  of  which  he  examined  the  baptismal 
records  for  a  period  covering  some  250  years,  and  found 
variations  in  the  number  of  births  from  170  to  38  for  dif- 
ferent decades  with  an  almost  invariable  village  popula- 
tion. Many  examinations  of  this  kind  go  to  show  that 
increase  of  populations,  among  other  things,  depends  much 
on  the  outlook  of  the  people.  Besides  this  to-a-large- 
extent-unconsciously  sterile  or  prolific  tendency,  there  are 
the  facts  of  infanticide  and  suicide,  both  of  which  prevail 
at  times  to  an  unbelievable  extent  among  some  nations. 
Again,  there  are  various  races,  which  through  contact 
with  higher  civilizations  and  from  other  causes,  are  in  a 
state  of  constant  decline  in  numbers.  Some  have  already 
died  out  entirely  (Tasmanians,  etc.) ;  others  are  fast  de- 
creasing (Indians,  Maori,  etc.).  And  lastly,  three  of  the 
mightiest  factors  having  to  do  with  this  uncertainty  and 
variation  in  the  world's  population,  are  famine,  pestilence, 
and  war.  In  some  lands  and  at  some  times  the  proportion 
is  very  greatly  disturbed  by  these.  Happer,  an  English 
writer  on  the  Chinese,  tells  of  63,000,000  having  perished 
by  hunger  since  1812.  And  some  one  (Meadows  I  think) 
says  that  30,000,000  Chinese  perished  in  a  single  rebellion. 


THE  CLASSIFICATION  OF  RELIGIONS.  IO3 

In  India  the  populations  of  certain  regions  are  occasionally 
terribly  reduced  by  either  famine  or  cholera.  War  not 
infrequently  decimates  the  male  population  and  seriously 
disturbs  the  naturally  balanced  numerical  relations  of  the 
sexes.  These  factors  put  together  go  to  show  that  there 
might  be  such  a  science  as  the  pathology  of  population. 

When  to  all  these  difficulties  in  the  formation  of  esti- 
mates of  the  numbers  living  either  now  or  in  the  past,  is 
added  the  variations  in  the  actual  estimates  made  by  trav- 
elers and  investigators,  the  case  begins  to  look  like  a  hope- 
less one.  How  great  this  confusion  may  threaten  to  be, 
may  be  better  appreciated  if  I  state,  that  the  population  of 
China  has  during  recent  years  been  variously  calculated 
from  150  to  450  millions.  The  most  reliable  figures,  how- 
ever, range  between  370  and  420  millions,  the  latter  being 
the  sum  given  by  Tseng,  a  Chinese  statistician.  (In  A.  D. 
57  China  had  21  millions.) 

But  to  come  closer  to  the  question  of  calculating  the 
votaries  of  the  different  faiths  of  the  world,  it  must  be 
observed  that  the  problem  would  be  far  from  solved  even 
if  we  could  count  the  peoples  of  the  various  lands,  though 
enumeration  on  the  best  approximation  of  these  is  the  only 
result  yet  or  perhaps  ever  possible.  Statistics  of  religion 
in  general  can  do  no  more  than  collect  the  aggregates  of 
population  in  various  lands  and  divide  the  sums  among 
the  faiths  supposed  to  predominate  in  those  various  re- 
gions. But  this  is  almost  the  loosest  sort  of  generaliza- 
tion, and  has  no  solider  basis  than  the  assumption  that 
peoples  living  under  the  same  general  environment  and  in 
the  regions  where  certain  doctrines  have  been  extensively 
preached,  must  have  the  same  religious  outlook.  The  as- 
sumption has  some  truth  on  its  side.  Such  peoples  must 
necessarily  have  more  in  common  and  possess  a  greater 
similarity  of  theory  and  practice  than  those  who  are  widely 
separated  and  who  are  surrounded  by  very  different  cir- 


IO4  THE  MONIST. 

cumstances  of  life.  Yet  this  assumption  and  method,  with- 
out qualification,  leave  no  room  for  the  play  of  individual- 
ity. Though  the  intelligent  thinking  Chinaman  is  far  nearer 
the  religious  point  of  view  of  Buddhism  than  he  is  of 
Protestant  Christianity,  and  though  the  scientifically  in- 
clined European  or  American  is  probably  more  in  sympathy 
with  the  latter  than  he  is  with  the  former,  yet  it  is  straining 
the  category  of  either  name  to  class  such  men  with  the 
mass  of  their  countrymen  who  subscribe  to  these  confes- 
sions and  their  ordinances.  And  this  class  of  non-con- 
formists in  all  civilized  countries,  though  never  conspicuous 
or  exactly  ascertainable,  must  be  somewhat  numerous,  the 
more  so  in  proportion  to  the  liberty  and  intelligence  of  the 
people.  Hence  when  it  is  stated  that  the  number  of  Chris- 
tians or  Buddhists  is  so  and  so,  we  perceive  the  necessity  of 
discounting  the  estimate  to  a  considerable  extent  from  this 
reason  alone.  I  should  remark  in  passing,  that  the  in- 
accuracy of  religious  statistics  inx  failing  to  represent  the 
individualism  and  independence  of  many,  may  be  and  is  in 
part  remedied  in  what  we  term  sectarian  statistics.  Yet 
this  can  never  appear  in  those  general  estimates  of  the 
religions  of  the  world,  and  consequently  our  cautions  re- 
main in  full  force.  We  must  further  make  the  perhaps 
yet  greater  deduction  of  that  multitude  of  indifferent  per- 
sons to  be  found  everywhere.  Almost  every  neighborhood 
numbers  its  scores  who  give  little  or  no  attention  to  the 
question  of  religion  in  any  of  the  usual  senses.  These  two 
classes  in  the  aggregate  seriously  diminish  the  accuracy 
of  our  customary  estimates.  Nevertheless  we  must  make 
them  as  best  we  can,  and  learn  from  them  what  we  may. 
The  most  remarkable  interest  in  the  scientific  study  of 
religions  and  of  religion  was  manifest  in  the  period  between 
the  later  70*8  and  the  early  90*5  of  the  nineteenth  century. 
The  labors  accomplished  by  Max  Miiller,  Rhys  Davids, 
Tiele,  Sayce,  Bournouf,  Kuenen,  Whitney,  Spencer,  Pflei- 


THE  CLASSIFICATION  OF  RELIGIONS. 


105 


derer,  Brinton,  Reville,  Johnson,  Carus,  and  their  many  co- 
workers,  began  another  epoch  in  religious  history.  The 
influence  of  this  work  brought  about  the  World's  Congress 
of  Religions  at  Chicago  in  1893;  and  its  continuation  in  a 
hundred  ways  is  steadily  modifying  the  religious  outlook, 
not  only  of  Christendom  but  of  the  peoples  who  have  for 
centuries  held  to  the  other  historic  faiths. 

( i )  T.  W.  Rhys  Davids,  the  eminent  English  Oriental 
scholar  and  authority  on  Buddhism,  gives  the  population 
of  the  world  and  of  the  various  religions  as  follows.  (See 
his  Buddhism,  etc.) 


RELIGIONS 

NUMBERS 

Jews  

7,000,000 
155,000,000 
75,000,000^ 
152,000,000 
100,000,000 
160,000,000 
500,000,000 
150,000 
1,200,000 

100,000,000 

>  327,000,000 

Mohammedans 

Greek  Christian  

Roman  Catholic  Christian 

Protestant  Christian       

Brahmanism 

Buddhism  

Parsees  

Sikhs  

Heathen 

1,250,350,000 

(2)  The  Justus  Perthes  Geographische  Anstalt  of  Go- 
tha,  one  of  the  highest  statistical  authorities  in  the  world, 


RELIGIONS 

MILLIONS 

PER  CENT 

Christians 

AAC 

-JQ  2 

Catholics  

20O 

n  6 

Protestants 

TfiO 

IO  ° 

Greek  Orthodox  

87 

e  Q 

Others  

8 

O  ^ 

Mohammedans  

I7O 

II.  q 

Israelites  

7 

O  ^ 

Heathen  

852 

57  8 

1474 

100. 

io6 


THE  MONIST. 


gives  the  preceding  figures.  (See  Taschen- Atlas,  22.  Aufl. 
von  Hermann  Habenicht.  Mit  geogr.-stat.  Notizen  [by 
H.  Wichmann],  1886.) 

In  this  connection  I  will  give  for  future  reference  the 
same  authority's  figures  on  the  numbers  of  the  principal 
races  of  the  world. 


RACES 

MILLION 

PERCENT 

African  and  Semites  

176 

II.  Q 

Oceanic      ....           .             

w 

2.2 

American  

IO 

O.7 

Dravidian           .   .       .              ....       ... 

40 

2.7 

Mongolian  

586 

TO.  7 

Indo-European         .  .          

631 

42  8 

1476 

100. 

(3)  From  G.  Droy sen's  Historischer  Hand- Atlas,  1886, 
a  most  excellent  outline  work,  I  take  the  following  esti- 
mates (p.  92). 


RELIGIONS 

NUMBERS 

Christians  .   . 

442,35  1  000 

Mohammedans  

186,356,000 

Buddhists  

Brahmanists 

l87  CL17.J.^O 

Heathen  . 

02.  l82.TdO 

I,356,8o6,570 


(4)  Meyers  Hand-Lexikon  (3.  Aufl.,  1885)  gives  a 
careful  statistical  analysis  of  the  general  religious  con- 
dition of  the  world  drawn  from  the  most  recent  enumera- 
tions and  estimates.  In  the  following  summary  I  have 
divided  the  687  millions  set  down  there  as  the  "worshipers 
of  Brahma  and  Buddha"  into  four  groups,  viz.,  Hinduism, 
Parseeism,  Sikhism,  and  Buddhism,  leaving  the  total  the 
same,  while  putting  for  the  three  latter  the  numbers  given 
by  Rhys  Davids  (II,  p.  1611). 


THE  CLASSIFICATION  OF  RELIGIONS. 


107 


RELIGIONS 

MILLIONS 

I3i 

210 

92 

6"/2/ 
196 
i«5u/» 
Y« 
1% 
500 

I28"/* 

•    433 

;  loisv* 

Roman  Catholic  Christianity               . 

Greek  Christianity     

Judaism                          .  .                 .             . 

Mohammedanism  .       

Parseeism                

Buddhism         .                         .  .            ... 

Others 

I45IV.O 

(5)  A  later  estimate  (culled  from  various  sources,  but 
not  so  carefully  discriminated)  is  found  in  a  Beilage  to  the 
Allgemeine  Zeitung  for  January,  1901.  Some  of  the  re- 
sults of  this  estimate  are  given  in  Appleton's  American 
(Annual)  Cyclopedia,  3d  Ser.,  Vol.  VI,  (for  1901). 


RELIGIONS. 


ADHERENTS. 


Christians 501,600,000 

Roman  Catholics 240,000,000 

Protestants  163,300,000 

Greek  Catholics 98,300,000 

Mohammedans 167,200,000 

Jews 7,100,000 

Pagans  (largely  Buddhist  and  Brahmin)  667,800,000 

Heathen  (Savage)   95400,000 


1439,100,000 


The  same  authority  gives  the  world's  population  as 
i, 544,509,00x3. 

The  figures  for  the  adherents  of  Roman  Catholicism 
are  given  by  Mulhall  in  1898  as  200,450,000. 

The  Jewish  Year  Book  for  1902  gives  the  total  number 
of  Jews  in  the  world  as  10,378,530. 

The  official  estimate  of  the  Turkish  government  gives 
the  total  number  of  Mohammedans  in  the  world  as  176- 


IO8  THE  MONIST. 

000,000  for  about  the  year  1900;  while  Mr.  Mann  in  the 
North  American  Review,  1900,  increases  the  sum  to  200- 

313,845. 

This  result  I  have  used  in  another  way  to  make  an 

object  lesson.  If  a  surface  be  laid  out  with  38%o  units  on 
each  side,  it  will  contain  145^0  square  units.  By  using 
different  colors  and  coloring  as  many  squares  as  each 
religion  has  millions  of  adherents,  their  comparative  fol- 
lowings  may  be  strikingly  perceived  at  a  glance. 

C.  CLASSIFICATIONS  BASED  ON  PHILOSOPHIES  OF  RELIGION. 

SUBJECTIVE. 

i.  Professor  Pfleiderer  of  Berlin,  in  a  work  entitled: 
Die  Religion,  ihr  Wesen  und  Hire  Geschichte  (2  Bande, 
1869),  developed  a  division  of  which  he  said:  "Wir  hoffen, 
dass  diese  Einleitung  der  Religionen  uberhaupt  und  der 
heidnischen  insbesondere  sich  durch  die  Verbindung  ge- 
schichtlicher  Treue  mit  begrifflicher  Scharfe  von  selbst 
empfehlen,  und  dass  sie  auch  vor  der  strengsten  Kritik 
jener  Empiriker,  welche  gegen  jedwede  begriffliche  Sche- 
matisirung  stets  misstrauisch  sind,  standhalten  werde." 
(II,  p.  60.)  He  bases  it  on  an  attempted  psychological 
analysis  of  the  fundamental  principles  of  religion,  the 
ground  basis  of  piety.  Here  is  to  be  sought  the  one  un- 
derived  reality  to  which  all  else  is  accidental.  The  reason 
that  previous  divisions  have  proved  untenable  is,  according 
to  Pfleiderer's  mind,  that  they  have  been  based  on  secon- 
dary phenomena  instead  of  being  founded  in  the  essence 
of  religion  itself.  In  such  divisions  there  are  always  cer- 
tain points  which  will  not  stand  the  pressure  of  the  facts. 
But  he  says :  "Die  Leichtigkeit  hingegen,  mit  welcher  hier 
der  geschichtliche  Stoff  sich  subsumirt  unter  den  begriff- 
lichen  Schematismus,  ist  ein  Beweis  fur  die  Richtigkeit 
des  Eintheilungsprinzips,  also  schliesslich  noch  ein  Beweis 
fur  die  richtige  Fassung  des  Begriffs  der  Religion,  wel- 


THE  CLASSIFICATION  OF  RELIGIONS.  ICX) 

chem  das  Eintheilungsprinzip  entnommen  wurde."  Here 
is  confidence  enough.  It  should  indeed  be  an  excellent 
theory  to  warrant  so  much.  We  will  look  at  it  and  hear  its 
later  fate.  (See  Chart.) 

In  the  first  place,  its  geneology  must  be  observed.  It 
will  be  remembered  from  the  discussion  upon  the  psycho- 
logical origin  of  the  religious  nature,*  that  Schleiermacher 
founded  it  in  feeling  and  made  its  essence  to  consist  of  a 
sense  of  absolute  dependence,  and  that  Hegel  laid  its  basis 
wholly  in  thought  and  found  its  essence  to  be  sense  of  free- 
dom, the  more  unlimited  and  the  higher  it  rose  the  more 
religious.  Both  theories  were  paraded  to  excess  by  their 
respective  followers,  and  received  the  hardest  criticism  from 
the  other  side  and  from  outsiders.  Indeed,  one  may  almost 
say  that  the  history  of  these  views  constitutes  the  history 
of  religious  philosophical  discussion  during  the  last  fifty 
to  seventy-five  years,  especially  in  Germany.  It  became 
more  and  more  manifest  (except  to  the  most  blinded  parti- 
sans) that  neither  view  was  able  to  hold  the  ground.  A 
new  theory  or  a  compromise  was  the  only  resort.  The 
former  was  out  of  the  question  on  any  of  the  old  bases. 
Kant  had  preempted  the  will,  Schleiermacher  the  feeling, 
and  Hegel  the  intellect,  each  severally  as  the  ground  for 
his  structure.  There  was  no  other  region  known,  and  there 
happened  to  be  no  passion  for  discovery  at  that  time.  In 
this  embarrassment  Professor  Pfleiderer  (then  at  Tu- 
bingen) came  forward  with  a  theory  compromising  be- 
tween the  views  of  Schleiermacher  and  Hegel.  He  admits 
the  ground  claims  of  both,  but  will  have  none  of  the  ex- 
clusiveness  of  either.  Neither  is  complete  alone,  nor  are 
they  sufficient  by  adding  them  together  in  a  mere  com- 
promise. They  must  be  melted  together,  must  be  blended 
into  a  perfect  unity,  a  unity  of  such  a  peculiar  type  that 
neither  looses  its  essential  character,  while  each  mutually 

*  See  How  Religion  arises — A  Psychological  Study,  by  Duren  J.  H.  Ward. 


no 


THE  MONIST. 


admits  the  exercise  of  the  other  to  the  fullest  extent ;  indeed, 
each  in  this  fullest  exercise  of  the  other  comes  to  get  in 

PFLEIDERER'S   PHILOSOPHICAL   CLASSIFICATION 
OF   RELIGION. 


.The  two  elements  of  religion. 


O  W 

»> 

a 

Vt     c? 

x   * 

5 

2    3 

>   "^ 

3  3 

S  5 

§• 

°  > 

S 

cw' 

z 

> 

Extreme  Partiality. 

y 

5 

-   (One  or  the  other  moment  holds  almost  entire  con-    H 

o 

trol.) 

II 

0 

po  o 

o  3 

3S 

0     90 

HT*    ^ 

• 

2    H 

*    i%      ** 

£  " 

I! 

i  s 

f 

'     N      " 

IS  W 

yo 

k 

0) 

§  > 

i 

JO  -a 

§s 
if 

Unequal  Recognition. 
(The  two  moments  tending  toward  equilibrium.) 

I 

•II 

0     C 

en 

•^ 

I 

z 

SL 

. 

.     2       . 

' 

1 

^    j  Balancing. 

J    |  (Each  moment  having  its  relative  claim  admitted. )  1    ~ 


CHRISTIANITY. 

Blending. 
(Both  absolutely  realized,  each  through  the  other. ) 


2. 


this  way,  and  in  this  way  only,  its  own  fullest  play  and 
activity.    This  is  truly  a  great  insight.    Such  a  work  were 


THE  CLASSIFICATION  OF  RELIGIONS.  Ill 

as  really  a  discovery  as  the  development  of  the  onesided 
views  which  it  wrought  into  a  higher  view. 

He  lays  out  the  ground  somewhat  as  follows:  "Das 
Wesen  des  frommen  Selbstbewusstseins  an  und  fiir  sich" 
is  the  only  factor  conceivable  for  a  sharp  or  exact  division. 
In  this  he  finds  two  constituting  moments:  freedom  and 
dependence.  In  and  for  themselves  each  claims  full  and 
unlimited  sway.  Hence  arises  conflict  and  struggle  be- 
tween them.  The  various  relations  growing  out  of  these 
two  moments  of  religious  life  form  a  comprehensible  and 
sharply  fixed  basis  of  division.  If  in  a  religion  one  is  pre- 
dominant we  see  its  essential  characteristic,  and  so  if  the 
other;  but  if  we  see  them  standing  in  an  equilibrium  of 
validity,  we  recognize  the  approach  to  the  perfect.  Their 
unequal  coexistence  will  be  found  to  be  the  common  char- 
acteristic of  the  heathen  religions,  while  their  greater  bal- 
ance is  the  chief  mark  of  the  monotheisms.  These  mono- 
theisms again  are  divisible  on  the  ground  as  to  whether 
the  two  elements  only  relatively  have  their  rights  recog- 
nized, or  whether  this  mutually  recognized  right  becomes 
a  completely  blended  realization.  Christianity  represents 
the  latter,  Judaism  and  Islam  the  former.  In  Christianity 
is  the  fullest  freedom  reached  only  when  the  fullest  de- 
pendence is  realized.  (See  2  Cor.  iii.  17,  also  Luke  ix.  24.) 
Judaism  and  Mohammedanism  hold  to  both  of  these  ele- 
ments, but  in  such  a  way  as  to  resemble  two  poles  which 
though  inseparable  yet  stand  over  against  each  other  in  op- 
position. In  these  religions  man  feels  himself  free  and  also 
dependent,  but  the  two  are  not  so  blended  that  he  finds  his 
freedom  in  his  dependence,  and  at  the  same  time  the  satis- 
faction of  his  own  will  in  the  service  of  God.  In  them 
the  one  moment  leaves  off  when  and  where  the  other  be- 
gins. 

Not  so  in  Heathenism.  Sometimes  an  overpowering 
sense  of  dependence,  sometimes  an  unlimited  notion  of  free- 


112  THE  MONIST. 

dom  are  the  characterizing  elements.  Never  are  both  rec- 
ognized, never  do  they  stand  in  equipoise,  never  do  they 
blend  in  pious  experience.  Both  being  indestructible  ele- 
ments, neither  is  ever  wholly  lost,  and  even  in  greatest 
subjection,  the  unrecognized  factor  reacts  with  what  weak 
powers  it  has  left.  Yet  when  vigorous  reaction  comes,  it 
too  is  just  as  onesided.  In  the  heathen  mind  these  elements 
are  so  unbalanced  that  they  do  not  stand  as  in  Judaism 
merely  out  of  and  beside  each  other,  but  stand  in  a  relation 
of  opposition,  of  againstness,  or  of  contradiction  to  each 
other.  In  this  opposed  way  each  is  false  from  the  other's 
point  of  view.  One  of  the  two  chief  tendencies  will  be 
taken  by  the  religious  mind  on  the  stage  of  pure  nature. 
Either  man  gives  himself  up  entirely  to  his  dependent 
sense,  regards  himself  as  on  all  sides  determined  and  at 
the  disposal  of  the  Divine  All-life,  in  which  case  the  nat- 
ural will  seeks  by  the  satisfaction  of  the  natural  im- 
pulses to  compensate  itself  all  the  more  because  of  this 
resignation.  This  accounts  for  the  mixture  of  resigned 
self-sacrifice  (asceticism)  and  gross  sensuality  in  the  pan- 
theistic nature  religions.  On  the  other  hand,  man  realizes 
his  dependence  little,  an  overflowing  fulness  of  life  gives 
an  overpowering  feeling  of  freedom  from  the  control  of 
the  finite  and  limited  gods  of  nature.  He  is,  to  be  sure, 
in  a  measure  dependent  on  them,  since  he  prays  for  their 
help:  but  at  the  same  time  he  thinks  to  compel  them  into 
his  service  through  the  craft  or  force  of  his  magic  and 
divine  exorcisms.  The  real  feeling  of  dependence  now 
reacts  in  the  fear  of  an  unconditioned  might  standing  yet 
higher  than  the  gods,  a  blind  necessity  or  fate.  This  is 
everywhere  at  the  back  of  polytheism,  hard  and  oppressive 
in  proportion  as  the  gods  are  believed  to  be  limited.  In 
the  stage  of  development  which  precedes  what  we  term 
the  beginning  of  civilization,  this  contrast  of  freedom  and 
dependence  is  at  its  strongest.  With  the  entrance  of  a 


THE  CLASSIFICATION  OF  RELIGIONS.  113 

higher  social  condition  in  the  taking  on  of  family  and  civic 
relations  this  sharp  division  is  toned  down  somewhat.  The 
individual  begins,  by  the  suggestions  and  incentives  which 
these  impose  upon  him,  to  recognize  himself  as  belonging 
to  a  law-ordered  whole.  The  sensuous  will  of  man  is  re- 
strained by  custom  and  law  till  he  feels  his  dependence  on 
society,  but  at  the  same  time  he  is  lifted  into  a  higher  free- 
dom in  that  to  his  previously  selfish  interest  there  is  given 
now  the  greater  content  of  a  more  universal  aim,  or  inter- 
est. This  filling  out  of  the  sense  of  freedom  with  moral 
content  and  the  drawing  of  the  sense  of  dependence  toward 
moral  powers  (deities)  gradually  destroys  the  conflict  be- 
tween them.  The  Greeks  or  Romans  who  had  received 
this  moral  and  civic  culture  no  longer  feared  that  blind 
fate  above  the  gods;  but  fate  became  to  them  gradually 
more  and  more  the  rational  will  of  a  Zeus  who  was  the 
bearer  of  the  natural  world-order,  or  of  a  Jupiter  Capito- 
linus  who  was  the  supporter  of  the  Roman  idea  of  the 
State.  On  the  other  hand,  the  cultured  Chinaman,  who 
before  had  been  borne  down  by  a  stupid  resignation  to  his 
complete  dependence  on  the  irrational  life  of  nature,  felt 
this  no  longer  in  the  former  way;  but  as  the  notion  of  his 
State-relations  took  hold  on  his  life,  his  dependence  rec- 
ognized itself  as  leaning  on  an  essentially  rational  whole. 
In  both  examples,  however,  the  moral  and  civic  relations 
are  imperfect,  their  powers  of  influence  are  only  relatively 
universal,  hence  the  will  in  dependence  on  them  does  not 
arrive  to  a  perfect  freedom,  i.  e.,  the  two  do  not  become 
inwardly  fully  reconciled  to  each  other.  A  third  stage  to 
be  noticed  in  the  cultivated  nature  religion,  he  calls  the 
supernatural.  This  is  where  the  deified  powers  are  no 
longer  the  natural  powers  merely.  A  fundamental  breach 
is  made  with  nature,  yet  not  to  the  extent  that  a  positive 
supernatural  world  is  attained,  nor  to  the  denial  of  all  the 
old  nature  powers.  There  is  spirit  worship  of  the  higher 


114  THE  MONIST. 

sort  along  with  many  elements  of  nature-religion.  Of 
this  sort  are  Brahmanism  and  Buddhism  on  the  one  side, 
and  Zarathustrianism  on  the  other.  Both  have  escaped 
the  limits  of  the  finite,  in  nature  as  well  as  the  State,  and 
are  consequently  to  be  distinguished  from  the  previous 
stages.  They  form  indeed  a  sort  of  pre-stage  to  a  mono- 
theistic religion.  There  is  yet  between  them  a  contrasted 
onesidedness :  since  in  the  Indian  religions  the  false  de- 
pendence on  the  finite  is  broken  by  the  release  from  sen- 
suous self-torture  (in  Buddhism  also  of  mental)  without 
attaining  to  a  positive  freedom  in  the  infinite ;  while  in  the 
Persian,  though  the  freedom  is  placed  as  the  absolute  aim 
of  divine  things,  yet  it  never  reaches  to  the  abolition  of  a 
dependence  on  the  ungodly.  The  remnants  of  a  former 
naturalism  yet  remain  in  its  strong  dualism. 


Complete  and  invulnerable  as  the  author's  enthusiasm 
led  him  to  boast  his  theory  and  classification  to  be,  it  was 
not  complete  enough  to  win  his  own  assent  a  few  years 
later.  He  has  re-written  the  whole  topic  a  couple  of  times 
since,  and  has  finally  himself  abandoned  the  theory  which 
was  to  have  resisted  the  strongest  criticism  of  opposing 
schools  through  its  "combination  of  historical  fidelity  and 
exactness  of  comprehension."  In  his  more  recent  work, 
Religions  philosophic  auf  geschichtlicher  Grundlage,  he  pro- 
poses another  theory  and  a  different  basis  of  division. 
According  to  the  view  being  here  developed,  he  is  as  much 
at  fault  for  abandoning  this  division  as  he  was  at  first  for 
making  it  and  supposing  it  to  be  final.  One  would  have  to 
abandon  each  latest  view  on  the  same  ground  and  in  the 
same  way,  if  he  lived  and  remained  as  fertile  and  progres- 
sive minded  as  heretofore.  The  difficulty  lies  not  so  much 
in  the  great  faultiness  of  the  classification  principle,  but 
in  supposing  it  could  do  the  work  of  other  classifica- 


THE  CLASSIFICATION  OF  RELIGIONS.  115 

tions.  For  its  legitimate  purposes  it  is  most  excellent. 
One  cannot  look  upon  it  carefully  without  being  impressed 
with  the  amount  of  truth  that  it  teaches.  Like  the  other 
attempts  which  we  have  looked  at,  it  has  its  importance. 
It  is  no  fault  of  a  theory  that  it  is  misused,  or  that  un- 
reasonable confidence  is  placed  in  it  or  immodest  claims 
made  for  it.  Our  theories  would  often  serve  us  better 
than  they  do,  if  we  could  estimate  them  for  what  they 
are :  not  finalities,  but  theories,  working  hypotheses,  points 
of  view,  means  of  insight,  etc.  It  is  a  very  poor  one  indeed 
that  is  not  of  some  service;  it  is  a  most  excellent  one 
indeed  that  does  not  soon  run  us  into  errors,  extravagances, 
and  dangers,  if  we  push  its  application. 

The  way  in  which  Professor  Pfleiderer  applied  this 
theory  to  the  various  religions  would  seem  to  indicate, 
whether  he  intended  it  or  not,  that  he  regarded  religion 
as  a  projected  morality.  Observe  especially  the  remarks 
about  the  cultured  Greek,  Roman,  and  Chinaman.  To  do 
this  would  be  to  limit  it  in  actual  fact  to  morality,  when 
we  undeceive  ourselves  as  to  the  source  of  the  projected 
objects  of  worship  and  of  our  relationships.  Our  only 
excuse  for  longer  letting  our  moral  conceptions  take  such 
objectified  form  would  be,  that  it  added  a  greater  glow 
of  enthusiasm  and  romance  to  our  actual  moral  relations 
to  think  them  in  such  a  manner,  or  that  it  were  best  for 
the  common  folk  to  have  this  sort  of  supernatural  outlook. 

Again  the  chief  or  pivotal  terms  of  the  division,  free- 
dom and  dependence,  are  not  used  throughout  in  the  same 
sense,  as  will  be  seen  by  a  thoughtful  examination.  At 
the  start  they  are  the  fundamental  elements  of  all  pious 
feeling,  but  later  it  would  seem  that  one  or  the  other  had, 
in  his  mind  (especially  the  sense  of  freedom),  become  the 
all-absorbing,  all-worthy  element.  On  this,  witness  his 
discrimination  regarding  the  Persian  religion,  where  the 


Il6  THE  MONIST. 

sense  of  dependence  is  indicated  as  though  belonging  to  the 
character  of  mind  which  debases  itself  before  demons. 

The  position  in  the  plan  to  which  he  assigns  both  Bud- 
dhism and  Islam  are  entirely  wrong  in  my  opinion.  The 
prominent  characteristics  of  the  former  place  it  under  free- 
dom, those  of  the  latter  assign  it  to  the  side  of  dependence. 

Another  remark  should  be  passed,  viz.,  that  we  would 
be  led  by  this  theory  to  place  too  high  an  estimate  on  aver- 
age Christianity;  since,  except  in  the  very  highest  cases, 
has  there  neither  in  Christianity,  Judaism,  or  Moham- 
medanism ever  been  more  than  a  practical  adjustment  or 
compromise  between  these  two  fundamental  elements.  Such 
a  consummation  were  devoutly  to  be  wished,  and  such  a 
classification  or  analysis  would  have  inestimable  value  if 
its  calling  attention  to  these  relations  aided  in  any  way  so 
practical  an  end.  One  can  scarcely  doubt  that  here  is  an 
attempted  expression  of  one  of  the  deepest  features  and 
relations  of  the  religious  life,  and  though  its  full  and  satis- 
factory explanation  may  yet  be  unaccomplished,  we  become 
convinced  that  it  has  in  it  a  profound  reality. 

D.    CLASSIFICATIONS    BASED    ON    RACIAL    RELATIONSHIP. 
GENEALOGICAL. 

i.  According  to  Linguistic  Affinity. 

Prof.  Max  Miiller  (Introd.  to  the  Science  of  Religion, 
p.  143  ff.)  says:  "The  only  scientific  and  truly  genetic 
classification  of  religions  is  the  same  as  the  classification 
of  languages.  Particularly  in  the  early  history  of  the 
human  intellect,  there  exists  the  most  intimate  relationship 
between  language,  religion,  and  nationality."  The  out- 
ward appearance,  tangibility,  or  framework  of  religion  in 
early  times,  that  by  which  it  was  communicable  from  heart 
to  heart,  centered  around  a  few  words  and  expressions 
pertaining  to  deity,  sacrifice,  altar,  prayer,  possibly  body, 


THE  CLASSIFICATION  OF  RELIGIONS.  117 

soul,  virtue,  sin.  "Early  religion  and  early  language 
are  most  intimately  connected,  religion  depending  entirely 
for  its  outward  expression  on  the  more  or  less  adequate 
resources  of  language."  To  understand  this  clearly,  is 
to  arrive  at  a  basis  for  the  most  useful  classification  of 
religions.  Whatever  genetic  relationships  exist  between 
languages  *  'ought  to  hold  together  the  religions  of  the 
world,  at  least  the  most  ancient  religions/' 

In  Asia,  with  its  most  important  peninsula  Europe,  we 
have  three  families  of  languages :  Turanian,  Semitic,  and 
Aryan.  In  each  of  these  (especially  the  first  two)  the 
growth  of  language  became  arrested,  i.  e.,  ceased  to  be 
natural,  and  through  religious  and  political  influences  be- 
came permanent  and  solidified.  With  this  petrifaction 
of  language  into  historical  speech  went  on  a  like  petri- 
faction of  religion  into  the  three  great  independent  settle- 
ments. The  character  of  the  latter  is  in  great  measure 
determined  by  that  of  the  former,  or  at  least  is  found  to  be 
of  similar  analogy. 

Of  Turanian  languages,  Chinese  is  the  oldest  repre- 
sentative. If  we  look  into  its  early  forms  we  get  light 
on  this  early  family  of  religions.  Accompanying  the  prosy 
speech  of  China  we  find  an  ancient  colorless  and  unpoetical 
religion,  one  which  might,  after  the  manner  of  the  lan- 
guage, also  be  called  monosyllabic.  Its  deities  are  a  host 
of  independent  spirits,  having  in  the  worshiper's  mind 
little  mutual  interrelationship.  They  are  evidently  per- 
sonifications of  the  heavens,  sun,  storms,  mountains,  rivers, 
etc.  Beside  these  stands  the  worship  of  ancestral  spirits 
and  those  of  the  more  recently  departed  who  are  believed  to 
be  lookers-on  of  human  affairs  and  to  be  exercising  their 
powers  for  good  or  evil.  This  old  form  of  faith,  a  double 
worship  of  human  and  natural  spirits,  lives  on  even  yet 
among  the  lower  ranks,  though  at  least  since  the  time  of 


Il8  THE   MONIST. 

Confucius  it  has  been  superseded  in  the  upper  stratum  of 
intelligence. 

Among  Semitic  races  the  names  of  deities  clearly  mark 
off  their  religions  as  characteristic,  though  indeed  in  lan- 
guage, literature,  and  general  civilization  they  are  so  dif- 
ferent from  each  other  and  from  themselves  at  different 
times.  Yet  running  through  the  polytheisms  of  Babylon, 
Phoenicia,  and  Carthage,  as  well  as  the  monotheisms  of 
Jews,  Christians,  and  Mohammedans,  there  runs  the  same 
great  dominant  characteristic  notion  of  God  in  History, 
God  mingling  in  and  ruling  over  the  affairs  of  men  as 
individuals,  races,  and  nations,  as  contrasted  with  the 
characteristic  of  God  in  nature.  The  tendency  of  the 
peoples  has  been  to  lay  the  stress  of  life  on  social  organi- 
zation and  moral  relationships ;  hence  as  we  might  expect, 
Semitic  deities  in  general  bear  names  expressive  of  moral 
qualities :  the  Strong,  the  Exalted,  the  Lord,  the  King,  etc. 
Generally,  too,  the  anthropomorphism  is  not  strong  nor 
the  dramatic  activity  prominent.  Hence  their  tendency 
to  monotheism,  aided  by  the  external  circumstance  of  mo- 
notonous desert  life. 

And  thirdly  the  Aryans,  though  now  scattered  by  ex- 
tended enterprise  to  all  parts  of  the  globe,  are  a  family 
easily  recognized  by  the  roots  of  their  language.  Through 
the  names  of  their  gods  also  they  show  an  original  oneness 
of  religion.  Professor  Muller  denies  the  oft-repeated  re- 
mark that  their  worship  may  be  characterized  as  a  wor- 
ship of  nature,  and  says,  "if  it  had  to  be  characterized  by 
one  word,  I  should  venture  to  call  it  a  worship  of  God  in 
Nature,  of  God  as  appearing  behind  the  gorgeous  veil  of 
Nature,  rather  than  as  hidden  behind  the  veil  of  the  sanc- 
tuary of  the  human  heart.  The  gods  of  the  Aryans  assume 
an  individuality  so  strongly  marked  and  permanent,  that 
with  the  Aryans  a  transition  to  monotheism  required  a 


THE  CLASSIFICATION  OF  RELIGIONS.  I IQ 

powerful  struggle,  and  seldom  took  effect  without  icono- 
clastic revolutions  or  philosophical  despair." 

*       *       # 

Here  are  three  types  of  religion  accompanying  three 
types  of  language  and  race,  the  formation  and  settlement 
of  which  into  these  special  features  have  and  will  for  all 
future  time  determine  the  fate  of  the  whole  human  race. 
The  three  unities  which  at  some  remote  past  epoch  these 
peoples  formed,  have  in  course  of  time  through  increase 
of  numbers  and  other  circumstances  disintegrated  into 
what  might  seem  a  chaos  of  peoples,  tongues,  and  relig- 
ions. Yet  it  was  not  a  chaos,  for  out  of  this  seemingly 
inextricable  confusion  of  dialects  and  variety  of  races  our 
modern  science  has  been  able  to  assert  the  original  unity 
and  restore  the  principal  former  characteristics.  (As  yet 
the  case  with  regard  to  the  Turanians  is  somewhat  doubt- 
ful.) 

Professor  Miiller  makes  reference  to  an  African  and  an 
American  family  of  races,  languages,  and  religions  which 
long  ago  broke  up  into  various  divisions  without  devel- 
oping literature  or  settled  speech,  and  hence  their  relation- 
ships are  a  vastly  more  difficult  study.  At  the  time  in  which 
he  was  speaking  there  was  little  to  be  gained  from  them 
in  the  way  of  support  for  his  general  view. 

The  case  of  Aryan  unity  he  develops  at  some  length 
giving  substantially  the  same  reasons  that  I  have  done  in 
another  place  relying  principally  on  the  authority  of  Pictet. 
(See  "The  Primeval  Aryans,  etc.")  He  cites  the  names 
of  their  principal  deities,  calls  attention  to  their  terms 
expressive  of  the  most  essential  elements  of  religion,  as 
prayer,  sacrifice,  altar,  spirit,  law,  faith,  etc.  He  also 
mentions  such  cases  as  the  terms  for  house,  town,  king, 
etc. 


I2O  THE  MONIST. 

The  comparison  of  the  Semitic  family  of  languages  is 
carried  out  with  more  completeness.  Here  the  relation  is 
closer,  the  sub-races  have  never  been  so  scattered,  their 
intercourse  has  been  more  frequent,  and  hence  their  lin- 
guistic and  religious  relationships  are  more  manifest.  So 
manifest  indeed  is  the  former,  that  no  Semitic  scholar  has 
ever  thought  it  to  be  worth  his  while  to  carry  out  such  a 
comparative  study  of  their  likenesses  as  Pictet  and  others 
have  done  within  the  Aryan  family.  Nor  has  there  ever 
been  wrought  out  a  comparative  grammar  of  the  Semitic 
languages,  like  that  of  Bopp's,  e.  g.,  on  the  Aryan.  By 
the  same  process  of  comparison  which  has  been  so  success- 
fully carried  on  in  the  Aryan  group  could  we  here  still 
easier  reconstruct  the  primeval  Semitic  civilization  and 
religion.  ( A  noble  work  yet  to  be  executed  by  some  earnest 
progressive-minded  Semitic  scholar  who  might  tell  us  how 
this  race  lived  and  what  they  believed  and  thought  before 
Hebrew  was  Hebrew,  and  before  there  was  any  Syriac, 
Aramaic,  Arabic,  Ethiopic,  Phoenician,  or  Babylonian 
speeches.) 

The  evidence  of  the  pre-historic  oneness  of  the  Semites 
drawn  from  the  names  of  the  deities  is  unusually  strong. 
This  similarity  of  appellation  and  its  meaning  points  to 
the  fact  that  there  must  have  been  a  time  when  they  as 
well  as  the  Aryans  decided  as  one  people  upon  certain 
names  for  their  gods,  and  nothing  is  more  evident  than 
the  fact  that  this  period  preceded  the  special  development 
into  the  separate  languages  and  individual  religions.  The 
root  El  (meaning  Strong)  tells  a  great  history  with  regard 
to  this  race.  In  Babylonian  inscriptions  we  find  it  in  Ilu 
(God),  as  well  as  in  Bab-il  (the  gate  or  temple  of  II). 
Among  the  Hebrews  we  have  it  in  Beth-el  (house  of  God), 
and  in  ha-El,  preceded  by  the  article  (the  Strong,  the 
God,  i.  e.,  Jehovah).  The  Phoenicians  in  Byblus  (Jebel) 
worshiped  El,  the  son  of  Heaven  and  earth.  His  grand- 


THE  CLASSIFICATION  OF  RELIGIONS.  121 

father  Elium,  the  most  high  God,  was  killed  by  wild  ani- 
mals, and  his  father  dethroned,  and  finally  slain  by  him- 
self. Philo  identifies  this  god  El  with  the  Greek  Kronos, 
and  represents  him  as  the  presiding  deity  of  the  planet 
Saturn.  This  same  El  is  the  presiding  deity  of  this  planet 
according  to  Diodorus  Siculus.  And  the  Himyritic  in- 
scriptions in  Southern  Arabia  also  contain  it.  The  Hebrew 
Eloah  (plural  Elohim)  is  the  same  word  as  the  Arabic 
Ildh  (God),  which  without  the  article  means  god  in  gen- 
eral, and  with  the  article,  Al-ilah  or  Allah,  it  is  the  God 
of  the  Koran.  Again  it  appears  in  the  Arabic  in  the  fem- 
inine A  Hat  to  whom  a  famous  temple  at  Taif  was  dedicated ; 
and  this  Allat  of  the  Koran  (whose  temple  was  destroyed 
by  Mohammed's  command)  is  doubtless  the  one  mentioned 
by  Herodotus  (iii,  8). 

The  word  Baal  or  Bel  is  another  name  of  deity  common 
to  most  of  the  Semitic  peoples."  Assyrians,  Babylonians, 
Phoenicians,  Carthaginians,  Moabites,  Philistines,  and 
Jews  all  worshiped  this  deity  as  a  great  or  as  the  supreme 
God.  This  points  to  their  earlier  unity  as  a  race  and  to 
his  greatness  as  a  god.  Later  through  local  worship  we 
hear  of  many  Baals  (Baalim  collectively  and  with  special 
names  singly)  :  Baal-tsur  (of  Tyre),  Baal-tsidon  (of  Si- 
don),  Baal-tars  (of  Tarsus),  Baal-berith  (of  Shechem, 
god  of  treaties,  Judg.  viii.  33;  ix.  4),  Baal-zebub  (of  the 
Philistines  at  Ekron,  2  Kings  i.  2,  3,  16),  Baal-peor  (of 
the  Moabites  and  Jews,  Numb,  xxv),  and  Baal-Shamayim 
(on  Phoenician  coins).  The  last  named  is  the  Beelsamen 
which  Philo  speaks  of  as  the  Phoenician  sun-god,  thus: 
"When  the  heat  became  oppressive  the  ancient  races  of 
Phoenicia  lifted  their  hands  heavenward  to  the  sun.  For 
him  they  considered  the  only  God,  the  lord  of  heaven,  cal- 
ling him  Beelsamen,  which  with  the  Phoenicians  is  lord 
of  heaven,  and  with  the  Greeks  Zeus/' 

The  Ashtoreth  mentioned  in  the  Old  Testament  and 


122  THE  MONIST. 

worshiped  by  the  Jews  (i  Kings  xi.  5;  Judg.  iii.  12),  the 
Ishtar  of  the  Babylonians  mentioned  in  inscriptions  and  in 
the  famous  epic  (Geo.  Smith,  Chaldean  Account  of  Gen- 
esis), the  Ashtar  of  the  Moabite  stone,  and  the  Astarte 
of  the  Syrians,  are  one  and  the  same  goddess.  Traces  of 
this  goddess  and  her  consort  are  also  found  in  the  Himya- 
ritic  kingdom,  as  in  Athtar. 

The  Hebrew  Melech\  the  Moloch  of  Carthage,  Crete, 
Rhodes,  and  the  valley  of  Hinnom ;  the  Milcom  of  the  Am- 
monites (who  had  a  sanctuary  in  Mt.  Olivet)  ;  and  the 
Adranunelech  and  Anammelech  of  the  Sepharvites  (to 
whom,  according  to  2  Kings  xvii.  31,  they  burned  their 
children  in  sacrifice),  are  local  varieties  of  an  early  Sem- 
itic deity. 

The  Old  Testament  Adonai  (my  lord)  applied  only 
to  Jehovah,  was  in  Phoenicia  the  very  name  of  the  Supreme 
Deity.  This  personage,  as  is  well  known,  was  adopted 
into  the  Greek  mythology,  and  became  transformed  into 
the  beautiful  young  Adonis,  loved  by  Aphrodite,  and  killed 
by  the  wild  boar  of  Ares. 

Yet  other  names  are  mentioned  besides  these.  Alto- 
gether the  case  is  an  unusually  strong  one  from  this  class 
of  words  alone,  that  the  Semitic  religions  belonged  to- 
gether geneologically  as  a  class  on  the  same  basis  that 
their  language  in  other  ways  relate  them  as  peoples  of 
the  same  race.  The  period  when  they  were  one  people 
with  one  language  and  one  religion  far  antedates  historic 
times,  yet,  as  in  the  case  of  the  Aryans,  it  is  none  the  less 
certain;  and  should  the  work  be  undertaken  by  a  scholar 
competent  for  the  task,  I  doubt  not  that  a  much  better 
reconstruction  of  primeval  Semitic  civilization  and  religion 
might  be  effected  than  has  been  done  in  the  former  case. 

On  the  Turanian  ground  the  way  is  less  sure.  The 
subject  is  exceedingly  difficult,  because  it  has  been  com- 
paratively little  investigated.  The  languages  of  the  Chi- 


THE  CLASSIFICATION  OF  RELIGIONS.  123 

nese,  Mandshus,  Northern  Mongolian,  Tartars,  Finns,  etc. 
have  as  yet  been  very  little  a  subject  of  scientific  study. 
However,  with  such  evidence  as  may  be  obtained,  the  mat- 
ter of  proving  a  linguistic  relationship  as  a  basis  for  a 
relationship  of  religions  is  attempted.  Miiller's  method 
of  proof  is  faulty  here  in  that  he  calls  to  his  aid  the  simi- 
larity in  the  religions  which  he  would,  as  proposed  at  first, 
prove  by  linguistic  relations  alone.  Nevertheless  the  case 
is  not  so  badly  blemished  as  to  make  the  investigation 
worthless,  since  they  do  actually  assist  each  other  much. 
In  the  cases  of  the  Aryans  and  Semites  we  knew  more  of 
their  languages  at  start  than  we  did  of  their  religions, 
and  hence  our  knowledge  of  the  former  very  naturally 
proved  a  great  help  toward  a  better  understanding  of  the 
latter  besides  showing  their  geneological  connections.  But 
with  the  Turanians,  we  are  better  acquainted  at  the  outset 
with  their  religious  notions  than  with  the  family  relation- 
ship of  their  tongues.  Hence  very  naturally  the  racial 
unity  which  the  similarity  of  their  religions  points  to  is 
aided  but  not  absolutely  proved  by  the  investigation  of  the 
leading  religious  terms.  In  the  background  of  all  Tura- 
nian religions  are  certain  fundamental  ideas  which  have 
a  closer  resemblance  even  at  first  glance  than  any  of  these 
have  with  other  faiths.  With  all  of  them  there  goes  a 
nature  worship  of  a  sort  peculiar  to  the  group.  A  few 
comparisons  and  terms  will  show  what  basis  there  is  for 
the  attempt. 

In  the  Shu-king  (one  of  the  most  ancient  sacred  books 
of  China)  heaven  and  earth  are  the  father  and  mother  of 
all  things.  In  the  ancient  poetry,  Heaven  alone  is  both 
father  and  mother.  The  heaven-spirit  is  called  Tien,  and 
is  ever  used  as  the  name  of  the  supreme  deity,  i.  e.,  he  is 
the  Chinese  Jupiter  or  Allah.  The  word  means  the  Great 
One,  and  in  Chinese  characters  is  compounded  of  two 
signs:  ±  (to)  meaning  "great"  and  -  (yih)  meaning 


124  THE  MONIST. 


"one/'  ^  (ta-yih  or  Tien).  The  Peerless,  the  Great,  the 
High,  the  Exalted,  the  One,  stands  above  all  else.  It  is 
personified  as  the  ancestor  of  all  things,  as  the  framer,  as 
having  decrees  and  will,  as  sending  sages  to  teach  the 
people,  as  knowing  men's  hearts,  and  as  comforting  them. 
This  was  the  solace  of  Confucius  when  he  desponded  be- 
cause men  would  not  hear  him:  "Heaven  knows  me." 
With  the  other  multitude  of  nature  spirits  believed  in  by 
the  common  people,  the  sages  had  little  to  do.  "Respect 
the  gods,  and  keep  them  at  a  distance,"  was  a  remark  of 
Confucius  when  pressed  by  his  disciples  regarding  the 
bearing  of  a  wise  man  toward  them.  These  gods  were 
spirits  of  the  sun,  moon,  stars,  earth,  mountains,  rivers, 
and  ancestors  of  the  people. 

Putting  beside  these  facts  the  less  complete  and  prob- 
ably less  trustworthy  accounts  of  travelers  from  Central 
and  Northern  Asia,  we  recognize  some  striking  coinci- 
dences. "Everywhere  we  find  a  worship  of  the  spirits  of 
nature,  of  the  spirits  of  the  departed,  though  behind  and 
above  it  there  rises  the  belief  in  some  higher  power,  known 
by  different  names,  sometimes  called  the  Father,  the  Old 
One,  who  is  the  Maker  and  Protector  of  the  world,  and 
who  always  resides  in  heaven/'  From  Chinese  historians 
we  learn  that  the  Huns  worshiped  the  sun,  moon,  spirits 
of  the  sky  and  earth,  and  spirits  of  the  departed.  Menander, 
a  Byzantine  writer,  relates  of  the  Turks  in  his  time,  that 
they  worshiped  fire,  water,  earth,  and  believed  in  and 
sacrificed  to  a  god  whom  they  regarded  as  the  maker  of 
the  world.  Castren,  the  chief  modern  authority  on  the 
religion  of  these  Northern  Mongolians  (See  his  For- 
lesungen  uber  finnische  Mythologie],  says  of  the  Tungusic 
tribes:  "They  worship  the  sun,  the  moon,  the  stars,  the 
earth,  fire,  the  spirits  of  forests,  rivers,  and  certain  sacred 
localities ;  they  worship  even  images  and  fetishes,  but  with 
all  this  they  retain  a  faith  in  a  supreme  being  which  they 


THE  CLASSIFICATION  OF  RELIGIONS.  125 

call  Buga."  "  The  Samoyedes,"  he  says,  "worship  idols 
and  various  natural  objects;  but  they  always  profess  a 
belief  in  a  higher  divine  power  which  they  call  Num."  This 
deity  they  also  call  Junta,  which  is  the  same  as  the  Jumala 
of  Finland.  Jumala,  from  Juma,  thunder,  and  la,  the 
place,  meant  originally  the  sky.  Later  it  signified  the  god 
of  the  sky,  and  finally  came  to  designate  gods  in  general. 
Among  Lapps,  Esthonians,  Syrjanes,  Tcheremissians,  and 
Votyakes  the  same  word  is  found  with  slight  dialectic  vari- 
ations having  the  like  chief  signification.  Castren  tells  a 
good  story  to  illustrate  Samoyede  sun  worship,  or  heaven 
worship  where  the  sun  is  thought  of  as  the  heaven  god. 
He  asked  an  old  woman  whether  she  ever  said  her  prayers. 
She  replied :  "Every  morning  I  step  out  of  my  tent  and  bow 
before  the  sun,  and  say,  'When  thou  risest,  I,  too,  rise  from 
my  bed.'  And  every  evening  I  say,  'When  thou  sinkest 
down,  I,  too,  sink  down  to  rest/  '  And  she  added  with 
a  touch  of  self-righteousness :  <rThere  are  wild  people  who 
never  say  their  morning  and  evening  prayers." 

So  much  for  the  general  similarity  of  religions;  but 
are  there  no  linguistic  connections?  We  saw  that  the 
Chinese  Tien  meant  sky,  god  of  the  sky,  and  god  in  gen- 
eral, being  in  meaning  the  exact  counterpart  of  the  North- 
Turanian  Jumala.  In  Mongolian  speech  we  find  Teng-ri 
with  the  same  three  meanings,  with  the  later  signification  of 
spirit  or  demon,  good  or  bad.  In  Turkish  we  have  T angry 
or  Tenri,  and  in  Yakute  Tangara.  Earlier  Chinese  authors 
tell  us  that  the  Huns  gave  to  their  leaders  the  title  Tangli- 
Kutu  (or  in  Chinese  Tchen-jil),  which  meant  in  Hunnish 
speech  Son  of  Heaven.  Now  this  title  Son  of  Heaven, 
Tien-tze,  is  also  the  Chinese  designation  of  their  emperor. 
Again,  the  Chinese  historians  say  that  the  Tukiu,  the  an- 
cestors of  the  Turks,  worshiped  the  spirits  of  the  earth, 
calling  them  the  Pu-teng-i-li.  If,  as  is  probable,  pu  means 


126  THE  MONIST. 

earth,  we  have  in  teng-i-li  the  Mongolian  teng-ri,  used  in 
that  early  time  as  the  general  name  of  gods  and  spirits. 

In  this  series  then  we  have  a  piece  of  linguistic  evidence 
of  considerable  value.  We  perceive  for  those  of  the  family 
in  closest  connection  a  name  derived  from  a  common  root 
given  to  the  highest  deity,  and  afterwards  passing  through 
like  organic  changes  in  the  process  of  development.  "Every- 
where they  begin  with  the  meaning  of  sky,  they  rise  to 
the  meaning  of  God,  and  they  sink  down  again  to  the 
meaning  of  gods  and  spirits/'  These  changes  of  mean- 
ing in  the  words  run  parallel  with  the  changes  which  took 
place  in  the  religions  of  these  peoples. 

We  have  now  seen  the  basis  on  which  Professor  Miiller 
would  set  up  a  science  of  religion.  The  linguistic  evidence 
for  a  classification  of  the  religions  of  peoples  dwelling  in 
Africa,  America,  and  Polynesia  is  not  taken  up  in  this 
work.  The  three  groups  most  conspicuous  in  history  are 
examined  and  the  case  is  thought  strong  enough  to  draw 
the  induction,  that  in  linguistic  relationships  we  have  the 
ground  for  the  most  useful  divisions  within  the  field  of  re- 
ligion. Leaving  aside  the  incompleteness  of  the  examination 
both  as  to  the  number  of  groups  left  out  and  the  unsatisfac- 
toriness  of  the  result,  especially  in  the  case  of  the  Turanians, 
the  questions  should  be  raised :  Most  useful  for  what  pur- 
pose? and  why  exclude  other  classifications  for  other  pur- 
poses ?  As  I  have  again  and  again  remarked,  each  division 
which  proceeds  to  look  at  the  subject  from  a  new  point  of 
view  adds  its  contribution  toward  a  complete  understand- 
ing, and  consequently  is  just  as  legitimate  and  indispen- 
sible  as  any  other.  Whoever  then  in  an  attempt  to  be 
scientific  makes  a  new  ground  of  division  should  endeavor 
not  to  commit  that  grossest  of  unscientific  deeds,  viz., 
the  exclusion  of  facts  within  his  field,  even  though  those 
facts  come  in  the  form  of  classifications  which  he  did  not 
originate  and  over  which  he  consequently  does  not  glow 


THE  CLASSIFICATION  OF  RELIGIONS.  127 

so  earnestly.  It  has  not  been  established  by  anything  Pro- 
fessor Miiller  has  brought  forward,  nor  do  I  know  of  any 
reason  why  it  should  be  assumed,  that  "scientific"  and 
"genetic"  cover  each  other,  as  he  seems  to  assume  at  the 
outset.  Like  all  the  views  before  studied,  this  has  its  pe- 
culiar place.  This  sort  of  starting-point  for  the  study  of 
religions  puts  us  on  track  of  racial  and  historic  connections 
and  relationships  between  them.  It  affords  help  toward 
answering  one  of  the  greatest  demands  of  our  times,  viz., 
the  question  as  to  the  origin  and  development  of  things, 
i.  e.,  the  "genesis"  question.  In  this  respect  it  is  indeed 
a  welcome  suggestion.  Yet  we  must  not  be  so  blind  in  our 
enthusiasm  as  to  suppose  the  questions  over  which  we  and 
our  age  are  chiefly  interested  constitutes  the  scope  of  "sci- 
entific" investigation.  Through  language  it  is  possible  to 
study  mythologies  and  religions  as  in  no  other  way.  Their 
organic  relationship  can  be  shown  ofttimes  beyond  a  doubt, 
and  then  by  the  aid  of  history  their  relative  claims  of  orig- 
inality and  independence  can  be  reasonably  settled.  In  this 
way  unjustifiable  assumptions  may  be  set  aside  and  credit 
be  placed  where  it  belongs.  It  consequently  incites  to 
progress  by  driving  us  beyond  these  old  assumptions,  since 
it  shows  us  their  origin,  their  relation  to  other  similar 
ones,  their  process  of  development,  and,  if  we  will,  will  help 
to  point  out  a  higher  standing-ground  for  the  future. 
Whatever  can  assist  toward  such  desiderata  has  need  of 
no  other  excuse  for  its  presence. 

//.  According  to  Ethnological  Relationships  and  Histor- 
ical Connections. 

A  NEW  CLASSIFICATION. 

The  reason  for  an  ethnological  classification  of  religions 
is  the  fact  that  religion  gets  its  character  from  the  people 
or  race  who  develop  it  or  who  adopt  it,  and  that  the  re- 


128  THE  MONIST. 

ligions  of  related  peoples  are  more  nearly  alike  in  char- 
acter. I  have  already  quoted  Max  Mutter's  remark  that 
"particularly  in  the  early  history  of  the  human  intellect, 
there  exists  the  most  intimate  relationship  between  lan- 
guage, religion  and  nationality/'  As  history  advances 
the  lines  do  not  run  quite  so  closely  parallel.  Each  and 
all  become  intermixed  and  influenced  from  without;  yet 
the  cast  imparted  to  it  and  the  type  which  its  exponents 
give  it  are  ever  manifest.  (Compare,  e.  g.,  English,  Span- 
ish, and  Russian  Christianity.)  However,  notwithstand- 
ing all  the  deviations  or  separations  between  race  and  re- 
ligion, there  yet  remains  a  striking  unanimity.  This  is 
presented  to  us  at  a  glance  when  we  take  the  trouble  to 
compare  an  ethnographic  and  a  religious  map  of  the  world. 
We  have  in  our  time,  however,  to  compare  groups  or  fami- 
lies of  each  instead  of  individuals  or  single  members  as 
would  be  the  case  in  a  study  of  the  conditions  in  ancient 
times. 

Within  the  last  few  years  we  have  heard  much  about 
universal  religions  as  contrasted  with  national  or  race 
religions;  but  how  strictly  in  the  mass  of  the  populations 
the  racial  lines  are  maintained  and  how  thoroughly  they 
modify  any  importations  of  foreign  faiths  brought  about 
by  military  might  or  political  influence,  is  most  manifest 
as  soon  as  our  attention  is  given  to  the  situation.  To  take 
an  illustration  or  two  from  the  best  known  cases:  the 
Christianity  of  the  Romish  type,  although  preached  with 
an  unrivalled  pertinacity,  has  signally  failed  to  take  a 
deep  hold  upon  the  Teutonic,  or  Germanic,  races.  It  has 
been  able  to  take  root  only  where  the  Roman  civilization 
had  been  or  was  at  the  same  time  planted.  The  indepen- 
dent spirit  of  Northern  Europe  was  never  subjected  to  the 
Roman  yoke,  and  as  soon  as  it  reached  a  sufficient  degree 
of  culture,  it  produced  its  Wiclifs,  Husses,  and  Luthers 
who,  with  the  material  then  at  hand,  developed  a  distinct 


THE  CLASSIFICATION  OF  RELIGIONS.  I2Q 

racial  religious  tendency.  And  the  tenacity  with  which 
these  lines  yet  hold  is  too  well  known  to  need  a  word  of 
comment  or  support.  Just  as  Romanism  has  found  it  im- 
possible to  penetrate  northward,  so  Protestantism  has  made 
little  impression  on  Southern  Europe.  Wherever  Romance 
peoples  are  (in  Italy,  France,  Spain,  Portugal,  Mexico, 
and  South  America),  there  is  Roman  Christianity  in  the 
ascendency;  wherever  Teutonic,  or  Germanic,  peoples  are 
(in  Germany — excepting  the  southern  part  where  the  pop- 
ulation is  less  purely  German,  and  where  it  was  more  sub- 
jected to  Roman  civilization — Scandinavia,  Great  Britain, 
Iceland,  United  States,  British  America,  and  Australia) 
there  is  Protestantism. 

Now  the  same  influences,  forces,  and  isolated  circum- 
stances which  developed  a  special  race  developed  at  the 
same  time  a  special  religion,  which  is  a  necessary  con- 
stituent element  or  part  of  a  race  (at  least  after  man  had 
reached  a  certain  stage  of  mental  power  or  growth).  Or, 
as  above  explained,  if  the  religion  be  one  imposed  upon  the 
race  from  without,  it  is  destined  to  be  made  over  and  modi- 
fied to  correspond  with  the  peculiar  character,  notions,  and 
circumstances  of  the  people  who  come  to  adopt  it.  Only 
an  occasional  thinker  rises  above  the  peculiarity  which 
makes  his  people  a  distinct  one  and  advocates  more  uni- 
versal tendencies;  and  since  the  influence  of  these  rare- 
coming  individuals  must  be  for  various  reasons  exceed- 
ingly limited  (especially  because  the  broader  views  which 
they  preach,  in  negating  so  much  of  the  old  peculiarities, 
seem  to  the  masses  irreligious),  the  stamp  given  to  a  re- 
ligion must  ever  come  in  greater  part  from  the  side  of  the 
mediocrity  of  the  population.  Only  at  rare  intervals  in 
history  does  there  come  a  juncture  of  conditions  when 
individual  influence  can  rise  so  high  as  to  overturn  the 
popular  views;  and  then  we  have  the  beginning  of  what 
later  is  called  a  new  religion.  The  new  views  are  grad- 


130  THE  MONIST. 

ually  taken  up  by  the  masses  and  gradually  but  certainly 
wrought  over,  interpreted  and  developed  to  correspond 
to  the  tendencies  and  environments  of  the  race  in  ques- 
tion. Now  it  should  be  evident  that  a  religion  is  not  suf- 
ficiently understood  (whatever  else  we  may  know  about 
it)  until  it  is  seen  in  reference  to  these  racial  peculiarities 
and  circumstances  of  life.  And  if  religion  cannot  be  stud- 
ied in  its  fulness  and  fairness  without  going  into  its  eth- 
nical manifestations,  not  more  can  we  expect  without  such 
a  treatment  to  obtain  a  due  appreciation  for  this  great 
historic  factor.  An  ethnological  study  of  the  field  will  have 
the  advantage  of  showing  what  has  been  contributed  by 
the  various  races  to  the  full  idea  or  concept  of  religion. 
It  will  show  us  that  its  essence  has  been  conceived  to  con- 
sist in  now  one  and  now  another  element,  and  through 
this  will  teach  the  elements  which  properly  belong  within 
its  domain.  In  this  way,  its  investigation  will  do  away 
with  a  multitude  of  misconceptions  and  onesided  ideas. 
Believing  then,  as  I  do,  that  new  light  may  be  thrown 
upon  religious  phenomena  by  undertaking  its  examination 
in  such  a  manner  as  above  suggested,  and  believing,  as  I 
have  said  elsewhere,  that  such  a  study  is  demanded  by 
the  broad  candid  requirements  of  our  genuine  modern 
science ;  I  ofTer  the  accompanying  ethnographical  divisions 
and  outline  tables  as  a  guide  for  such  an  examination. 
Although  we  are  far  from  possessing  the  material  for  a 
complete  understanding  of  all  these  peoples,  yet  more  is  at 
hand  than  most  of  us  are  aware  of,  more  perhaps  than  we 
yet  have  capacity  to  use,  and  more,  it  is  to  be  feared,  than 
we  yet  have  disposition  to  use  with  fairness  and  impar- 
tiality toward  those  belonging  to  other  stems  of  the  race. 
In  support  of  this  remark  about  the  material  which  stands 
ready  for  scientific  disposal,  as  well  as  for  the  general  cor- 
respondence of  the  arrangements  here  adopted  with  the 
facts,  I  beg  leave  to  call  attention  to  the  works  of  Tylor, 


THE  CLASSIFICATION  OF  RELIGIONS. 


Spencer,  Fr.  A  Killer,  Peschel,  Ratzel,  Hartmann,  and 
Waitz,  and  to  the  multitude  of  works  referred  to  by  these 
well-known  writers. 

A  TENTATIVE  ETHNOGRAPHICO-HISTORICAL  CLASSIFICATION 

OF  THE  HUMAN  RACES  TO  FACILITATE  THE  STUDY 

OF    RELIGIONS.— IN    FIVE    DIVISIONS. 


TABLE 


Malayans 


Malacca 

Sumatra 

Java 

Borneo 

Madagascar 


(Formosa 
Phillipine 
_  ,  , 
Celebes 
Molucca 


Micronesians 


Melanesians 


Polynesians 


Australians 


Pelew 
Caroline 
Marshall 
Gilbert 

f  Solomon 
Fiji 

New  Caledonia 
New  Hebrides 
New  Guinea 

L  Tasmania 

r  Tonga 
Samoa 
Society 
Marquaesas 
Paumotu 
Hawai 


L  Maori  (New  Zealanders). 


II 


TABLE  II. 

See  Volker-KarU  in  Ratzel's  V6lkerkunde,  Bd.  I,  20. 

Negroes:  Peoples  of  the  Soudan  region  etc. 

Bantus:  Kafir  and  Kongo  Peoples  of  Central  Africa. 

Quoi-Quoin:  Hottentots  and  Bushmen. 
For  North  Africans,  see  Table  V. 


132 


THE  MONIST. 


TABLE  III. 

1.  Eskimo.    (The  connecting  link  with  Mongolian.) 

2.  North  American  Indians.    (Including  many  tribes  from  British  America  to 

the  Gulf  of  Mexico.) 

3.  Nahuas     (Including  the  Aztecs,  Toltecs,  and  Nahuas  extending  from  Van- 

couver's Island  to  Nicaragua.) 

4.  Antilleans.    (Including  the  Mayas  in  Yucatan  and  the  Natchez  between  the 

Red  and  Mississippi  Rivers.     Were  one  of  the  most  gifted  of  American 
peoples.    Subjected  by  the  Caribs.) 

5.  Muyscas  or  Chidchas.    (In  South  America.) 

6.  Quichua,  Aymara,  etc.    (Culminating  in  the  sun  worship  of  the  Incas  of 

Peru.    A  natural  growth  to  a  very  high  stage.) 

7.  Caribs  and  Arowaks.    (Along  the  whole  north  coast  of  South  America.) 

~  Brazilian..  /  Tupi-guaranos 

Indies  Mansos 


8.  South  American  Indians  -< 


Southern  and  South-east 
Tribes. . . 


Abipones 
Pampas  Indians 
Puelches 
Pategonians  (or 
Tehuelches). 
Fuegians. 


TABLE  IV. 


Mongol-Tartars  of  Northern  and  North-Eastern  Asia 


Ural-Altaic 

(original  unity  of  this  branch  has  been 
proved  by  Castren,  the  highest  au- 
thority on  it.) 


Indo-Chinese 


'  Lapps 

Esthonians 

Finns 

Magyar 

Turkish 

-  Tibetan 

Burmese 

Siamese 

r  Confucianism 

Chinese 
(ancient 

•j   Taoism 
*•  Chinese  Buddhism 

national 

religion) 

Japanese 

(Old  national  religion  Kami-no-madsu 
or  Sin-to.) 


I 


Confucianism 

(Introd.  from  China  in  7th  cent.) 
Buddhism 

(Introd.  from  Corea  about  552) 


• 

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Low  German  •<  Frisian  [Woda]                              (  Dutch 
I  Saxon  [Wodan]  H  English 

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*  This  title  was  given  by  Oscar  Peschel.  It  is  not  very  fitting,  but  answers  as  well  as 
any  other  proposed.  Gerland  uses  "Indo-European."  Blumenbach  called  these  peoples 
"Caucasian." 

t  On  the  subdivisions  of  this  family  see  the  discussion  of  "The  Primeval  Aryans." 


134  THE   MONIST. 


FINALE. 

We  have  now  had  a  glance  at  the  chief  methods  of 
classifying  religious  phenomena.  We  perceive  moreover 
the  various  starting-points  and  principles  from  which  the 
divisions  are  made.  It  is  to  be  hoped  also  that  their  ad- 
vantages and  limitations  have  been  suggested,  if  not  fully 
set  forth.  It  shall  not  be  my  calling  hereafter  to  ignore 
these  various  methods,  but  on  the  contrary  to  often  refer 
to  some  of  them  with  pleasure.  They  are  neither  to  be  un- 
qualifiedly adopted  nor  narrowly  excluded.  They  serve 
their  respective  purposes ;  but  because  of  these  virtues,  we 
are  not  justified  in  resting  content  as  soon  as  our  desires 
for  clearness  are  in  part  satisfied.  It  must  be  carefully 
borne  in  mind  that  this  subject  has  never  had  a  universal 
and  impartial  investigation  such  as  has  been  given  to 
many  other  fields ;  hence  the  best  theories  about  it  are  but 
inductions  made  on  imperfect  bases.  We  may  trust  that 
here,  as  everywhere  else,  nature  is  greater  than  our  great- 
est guesses,  and  for  this  reason  we  may  not  hasten  to  tie 
ourselves  up  for  fear  of  getting  too  far,  especially  if  we 
divest  our  minds  of  every  interest  but  that  of  desire  to 
get  at  the  largest  truth.  But  how  is  this  largest  truth 
to  be  attained?  Surely  not  without  seeing  the  greatest 
possible  number  of  the  facts.  And  not  less  surely  ought 
these  facts  to  be  studied  with  as  little  perconceived  theory 
as  may  be.  Our  better  sciences  proceed  by  gathering  the 
facts  in  an  orderly  manner,  and  then  looking  to  see  what 
laws  and  principles  they  point  toward.  It  is  the  business 
of  history  and  ethnology  to  furnish  this  material;  it  be- 
longs to  philosophy  to  draw  the  inductions.  It  strikes  me 
then  that  religion  (and  not  more  this  than  any  other  human 
expression)  does  not  receive  full  scientific  justice  until  it 
has  been  investigated,  historically,  ethnologically,  and  phil- 
osophically ;  in  other  words,  in  terms  of  time,  space  and  in- 


THE  CLASSIFICATION  OF  RELIGIONS.  135 

most  essence.  Inasmuch  as  there  is  virtually  no  history 
obtainable  (in  the  continuous  chronological  and  develop- 
mental sense)  for  most  of  the  peoples  of  the  world,  the 
historical  and  ethnical  study  must  go  for  the  most  part 
hand  in  hand. 

The  first  requisite  for  such  an  undertaking  is  to  obtain 
through  ethnological  science  a  general  notion  of  the  races 
of  men  and  of  the  various  leading  branches  of  these,  past 
and  present.  This  has  been  attempted  in  the  five  preceding 
tables,  and  the  reasons  for  it  have  been  given  in  former 
pages  of  this  treatise  and  in  the  one  on  "Introduction  to 
a  Historico-Ethnical  Study  of  Religions/'  Those  leading 
races  now  form  so  many  leading  points  of  inquiry  under 
each  of  which  many  questions  are  to  be  asked;  and  first 
from  the  multitude  of  answers  returned  may  be  undertaken 
the  building  up  of  the  body  or  superstructure  of  what  we 
may  fitly  term  a  genuine  science  of  religion. 

DUREN  J.  H.  WARD. 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS. 

A  GERMAN  CRITIC  OF  PRAGMATISM. 

Ludwig  Stein  of  Berne,  editor  of  the  Archiv  fur  systematische 
Philosophic,  publishes  a  criticism  of  pragmatism  in  a  recent  number 
of  his  periodical  (XIV,  Part  II).  His  summary  of  the  history  of 
the  word  will  be  interesting  both  to  pragmatists  and  to  people  in 
general  who  are  interested  in  pragmatism,  for  he  points  out  that 
pragmatism  is  not  even  "a  new  name  for  some  old  ways  of  thinking, 
but  that  both  the  pragmatic  method  and  the  name  in  its  most  modern 
sense  are  ancient."  He  says  (pp.  143-5)  : 

"The  expressions  pragma*  and  pragmateia*  occur  in  Plato's 
dialogue  Cratylos,  but  especially  in  the  logical  writings  of  Aristotle 
(see  the  Aristotelian  Index  of  Bonitz)  as  frequently  as  they  are 
rare  in  post- Aristotelian,  particularly  in  the  pre-Socratic,  philosophy. 
The  meaning  of  the  word  pragma  varies  between  'thing/  'object'  and 
'reality' 

"According  to  Aristotle  the  linguistic  phonetic  symbol3  bears 
the  same  relation  to  the  concept4  as  the  name5  bears  to  the  object.6 
In  this  case  the  word  pragma  means  the  concrete  individual  object. 
Aristotle  shows  perfectly  the  distinction  between  figures  and  phonetic 
symbols  (De  soph,  elench.,  cap.  I,  p.  i65a,  7).  He  says  that  we  can 
never  cognize  things  (pragma),  but  we  only  utilize  names  as  sym- 
bols of  things.  Therefore  we  erroneously  confuse  the  name  and 
the  thing  it  stands  for  in  that  when  performing  calculations  as  in 
the  cypher  code  we  substitute  the  name  for  the  thing.  In  the  logic 
of  Aristotle  the  object,  pragma,  plays  an  important  role  in  opposition 
to  the  name  onoma.  The  Aristotelian  Index  of  Bonitz  enumerates 
dozens  of  passages  under  the  catch-words  pragma,  pragmateia,  and 
pragmateuesthai.7  Once  even  the  expression  pragmatologein8  ap- 

2  ir 
8  Sfo/ua. 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  137 

pears  ( 1 439/3  20).  The  opposition  between  pragma  and  onoma  seems 
to  have  been  familiar  in  Socratic  circles  presumably  even  as  early 
as  in  the  time  of  the  Sophists 

"However,  with  Aristotle  we  find  the  expression  pragma  used 
also  in  the  very  same  meaning  which  Peirce  and  James  assign  to  the 
word  to-day.  Aristotle  sometimes  understands  by  it  the  real  em- 
pirical fact  in  opposition  to  that  which  is  merely  thought,  that  is  to 
say,  pure  thought-entities  (entia  rationis).  In  his  logical  writings 
and  in  the  Metaphysics  Aristotle  distinguishes  repeatedly  between 
the  ideal9  and  the  real."10 

On  page  148  Professor  Stein  criticises  James's  etymology  of 
the  term  praxis11  as  "at  least  one-sided."  He  goes  on  to  say : 

"This  is  the  definition  given  by  the  greatest  leader  of  the 
Stoics,  Chrysippus,  according  to  Laertius  Diogenes  (VII,  94)  :  good 
is  that  which  is  morally  useful,  and  evil  is  that  which  is  morally 
harmful.  The  question  of  the  telosr-  is  the  central  point  of  their 
ethics.  Every  good,  we  read,  (loc.  cit.  VII,  98)  is  profitable.10  We 
call  that  profitable  which  is  of  use  to  us.14  Since  Aristotle  had 
made  the  statement  that  in  nature  there  is  nothing  useless  and 
nothing  happens  in  vain,15  the  Stoics  .caricature  this  utilitarian  prin- 
ciple to  the  point  of  absolute  folly.  In  Chrysippus  utility  degen- 
erates to  a  farce.  According  to  Cicero  (De  Natura  Deorum  n,  13, 
37),  everything  exists  in  the  world  only  for  the  sake  of  the  gods 
and  man :  the  horse  for  riding,  the  ox  for  plowing,  the  dog  for  hunt- 
ing and  watching.  The  gradation  of  creatures  is  equally  utilitarian 
with  a  view  toward  the  benefit  of  the  human  race  which  comprises 
the  center  of  the  universe,  as  the  human  community  itself  is  derived 
and  founded  for  purely  utilitarian  ends  (Cicero,  De  Finibus,  III,  20, 
67).  And  so  accordingly  the  real  founder  of  pragmatism,  Peirce, 
refers  to  the  connection  of  his  ideas  with  those  of  the  Stoics. 

"In  Baldwin's  Dictionary  of  Philosophy  and  Psychology,  II, 
323,  under  the  catch-word  "Pragmatism"  the  originators  of  the 
term,  Peirce  and  James,  give  their  position.  Etymologically  the 
following  derivation  is  given:  'Pragmatism  (Gr.  pragmatikos,16 
versed  in  affairs ).'  This  derivation  as  shown  above  is  historically 
untenable.  Only  pragma  and  pragmateia  are  customary  terms,  not 
pragmatikos.  Then,  too,  pragma  in  Plato  and  Aristotle  never  means 
'versed  in  affairs,'  that  is  to  say,  versatile,  skillful,  intelligent,  ex- 

9  diKvoia.  10  Trpdypaffi.  u  irpdj-is. 


138  THE   MONIST. 

perienced ;  but  first  of  all  it  means  an  object  or  thing  in  opposition 
to  a  name  or  phonetic  symbol.  In  post-Aristotelian  philosophy 
indeed  the  expression  pragma  or  pragmateia  disappears  from  use. 
In  the  Doxographi  Graeci  of  H.  Diels  this  expression  occurs  in  only 
half  a  dozen  passages  in  all.  /The  later  the  word  pragma  is  used 
the  more  the  emphasis  is  laid  upon  the  practical  meaning  which  has 
been  pushed  to  the  foreground  by  Peirce  and  James,  and  in  general 
the  post-Aristotelian  philosophy  shifts  the  center  of  gravity  from 
theory  to  practice,  from  logic  and  physics  to  ethics.  The  good  is 
no  longer  referred  to  the  true  but  the  true  is  referred  to  the  good. 
And  this  is  the  kernel  of  the  pragmatism  of  Peirce  and  James. 

"Consequences  are  the  decisive  epistemological  viewpoint  of 
Peirce  and  James.  Exactly  as  we  have  recognized  an  ethics  of 
consequence  ever  since  the  first  utilitarians,  the  Cyrenaics  or  hedon- 
ists, that  is  to  say,  the  ethics  of  utility,  later  so  called  by  Ben- 
tham  and  Mill,  there  lies  in  pragmatism  an  attempt  to  formulate  a 
logic  of  consequence.  Let  James's  definition  be  placed  side  by  side 
with  that  above  given  by  Peirce  (Peirce  has  repeated  his  definition 
in  Baldwin's  Dictionary  s.  v.  'Pragmatism').  Pragmatism  is,  ac- 
cording to  James,  'the  doctrine  that  the  whole  "meaning"  of  the 
conception  expresses  itself  in  practical  consequences'  (the  italics  are 
mine),  consequences  either  in  the  shape  of  conduct  to  be  recom- 
mended or  in  that  of  experience  to  be  expected,  if  the  conception  is 
true 

"The  expression  'pragmatic'  had  a  historical  sound  long  before 
Peirce  used  it.  The  'pragmatic  sanction'  of  Charles  VI  established 
the  Austrian  succession  according  to  the  requirements  of  utility  in 
the  interest  of  principles  which  served  the  public  welfare,  and 
even  in  German  usage  an  intelligent  foresighted  and  able  person 
is  called  a  pragmatic  fellow  (ein  pragmatischer  Kopf)  without  any 
evil  secondary  meaning.  Moreover,  the  'pragmatic  method'  has 
been  naturalized  in  historiography  much  longer  than  Peirce  and 
James  imagine.  The  'Text  Book  of  the  Historical  Method'  by  Ernst 
Bernheim  devotes  an  entire  section  to  the  instructive  pragmatic 
method  of  history  (Lehrbuch  der  historischen  Methode,  p.  17  ff.). 
Bernheim  defines  the  essence  of  pragmatic  historiography  as  fol- 
lows: 'At  this  stage  matter  does  not  appear  desirable  for  its  own 
sake  alone,  but  on  account  of  definite  practical  applications ;  man 
must  learn  something  for  practical  purposes  from  events  of  the 
past.'  The  first  conclusive  representative  of  the  pragmatic  stand- 
point is  Thucydides.  Polybius  introduced  the  term  'pragmatic  his- 


CRITICISMS   AND   DISCUSSIONS.  139 

tory'17  (Hist.  I,  cap.  2).  The  mistakes  of  the  pragmatic  method 
of  historiography  are  subjectivity  and  a  tendency  against  objectivity. 
And  these  also  are  the  reefs  along  which  the  philosophical  prag- 
matism of  a  James  or  Schiller  must  steer  carefully,  as  we  will  show 
later  ____ 

"Where  Peirce  has  picked  up  the  word  'pragmatism/  whether 
in  Kant  or  in  Aristotle,  he  himself  is  not  aware.  The  expression 
apparently  was  in  the  air.  Peirce  himself  informs  us18  that  thirty 
years  previously  in  his  above  mentioned  publication  he  had  set  in 
motion  the  subject  although  not  the  word  of  pragmatism.  He  had 
only  used  this  expression  in  oral  conversation  until  James,  who  was 
not  acquainted  with  him  when  he  wrote  The  Will  to  Believe,  had 
appropriated  it  and  put  his  stamp  upon  it  as  a  philosophical  term. 
In  my  book  Leibniz  und  Spinoza  (Berlin,  Reimer,  1890)  I  have 
made  the  statement  that  Leibnitz  had  the  same  experience  with  his 
term  'monad.1  It  is  true  he  met  occasionally  with  the  term  in  Plato, 
but  it  was  not  until  his  intercourse  with  the  younger  van  Helmont  at 
the  court  of  Queen  Sophia  Charlotte,  that  he  definitely  appropriated 
and  set  in  circulation  this  term  whose  meaning  had  been  heightened 
by  van  Helmont.  However,  not  only  did  Peirce  happen  upon  the 
expression  'pragmatism'  as  a  designation  of  his  theory  of  activity 
but  simultaneously,  although  quite  independently,  it  was  coined  by 
the  French  thinker  Maurice  Blondel,  the  advocate  of  a  'philosophy 
of  action;  Andre  Lalande  in  his  treatise  'Pragmatism  and  Prag- 
maticism'  (Revue  Philosophique,  1906,  p.  123)  relates  how  Blondel 
had  answered  his  question  about  the  discovery  of  the  term  prag- 
matism as  follows:  'I  proposed  the  name  of  pragmatism  to  myself 
in  the  year  1888,  and  I  am  conscious  of  having  invented  it  as  I  never 
before  had  met  with  the  term,  etc.'  In  his  work  'Action'  he  ana- 
lysed the  difference  between  praxis,  pragma  and  poiesis,19  and  de- 
cided upon  the  expression  pragmatism  at  a  time  when  Peirce  had 
used  it  only  in  oral  discourse.  This  duplication  of  the  incident  is  not 
surprising,  especially  since  this  designation  was  made  obvious  by  the 
pragmatic  historiography  then  in  vogue.  Yet  as  early  as  the  year 
1867  Conrad  Herrmann  wrote  a  'History  of  Philosophy  Treated 
Pragmatically.'20  In  this  Herrmann  expresses  his  opinion  on  the 


iffropia 
""What  Pragmatism  Is,"  Monist,  April,  1905. 


"  Geschichte  der  Philosophic  in  pragmatischer  Behandlung.    Leipsic,  Flei- 
scher. 


I4O  THE   MONIST. 

subject  of  the  pragmatic  method  in  the  science  of  the  history  of 
philosophy,  that  the  impression  of  the  pragmatic  seemed  to  him 
the  most  suitable  for  his  style  of  historical  representation  (Preface, 
p.  vii)  :  'The  expression  of  the  pragmatic  indicates  in  and  for  itself 
only  the  simple  real  or  properly  actual  in  things,  and  it  apparently 
coincides  with  the  concept  of  a  merely  narrative  or  purely  empirical 
presentation  of  history'  (loc.  cit.,  p.  viii).  In  this  connection  Herr- 
mann sets  himself  in  conscious  opposition  to  the  speculative  method 
of  Hegel  (p.  463  ff.)  :  'Pragmatism  is  the  only  true  scientific  prin- 
ciple for  the  treatment  of  historical  material.  The  essense  of  all 
historical  pragmatism  is  to  eliminate  chance  from  history  and  to 
place  in  its  stead  causative  necessity.  The  pragmatic  method  should 
have  the  individual  data  to  combine  in  a  whole  system.  Pragmatic 
historiography  should  not  work  with  principles  but  with  facts.'  In 
a  special  essay  'The  Pragmatic  Sequence  in  the  History  of  Philos- 
ophy,' Conrad  Herrmann  had  previously  laid  down  his  program 
according  to  which  all  historical  pragmatism  'should  have  a  definite 
practical  point.'  Exactly  this  'practical  point'  James  has  evidently 
adopted.  He  did  not  need  to  give  a  'new  name'  to  'old  methods,' 
especially  the  methods  which  arose  under  Thucydides  and  those 
theorists  among  the  sophists  who  advocated  the  right  of  might, 
but  the  name  itself  has  had  a  historical  ring  since  the  time  of  Poly- 
bius  and  a  philosophical  ring  ever  since  Plato  and  Aristotle." 

According  to  Stein  the  trend  of  pragmatism  is  a  teleological 
view  of  the  world  in  contrast  to  the  aeteological  view  of  science 
now  commonly  accepted  by  naturalists.  Says  Stein  (p.  156)  : 

"The  kernel  of  the  pragmatic  method  consists  in  referring  the 
logical  to  the  teleological.  Every  method  of  classifying  a  thing, 
says  James  (The  Will  to  Believe,  p.  76)  is  only  a  method  of  apply- 
ing it  to  some  particular  purpose.  Concepts  and  classes  are  teleo- 
logical instruments." 

Professor  Stein  says  on  page  146,  that  pragmatism  is  prac- 
tically neither  more  nor  less  than  a  theory  of  truth.  It  proposes 
a  new  criterion  of  truth  which  gives  life  and  color  to  this  philosoph- 
ical movement  that  is  spreading  with  lightning  speed.  He  says : 

"This  criterion  of  truth  which  is  found  in  pragmatism — the 
utility  of  cognition,  its  suitability,  its  efficiency  or  power  to  work — 
C.  S.  Peirce  himself  has  formulated  clearly  and  tersely  in  a  later 
essay  ('What  Pragmatism  Is,'  Monist,  April  1905,  p.  171):  'Con- 
sider what  effects  that  might  conceivably  have  practical  bearings 
you  conceive  the  object  of  your  conception  to  have ;  then  your  con- 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  14! 

ception  of  those  effects  is  the  whole  of  your  conception  of  the  ob- 
ject.' Some  years  earlier  Georg  Simtnel,  whom  James  indeed  claims 
as  a  typical  pragmatist  (with  incomparably  greater  right  moreover 
than  R.  Eucken  whose  theory  of  activity  follows  Fichte  much  more 
closely  than  Mills  and  Spencer)  in  the  first  volume  of  the  Archw 
fur  systematische  Philosophic  (1895)  found  a  much  terser  wording 
without  even  knowing  the  name  pragmatism  or  having  in  mind  this 
tendency  which  even  then  lay  potentially  in  embryo.  The  treatise, 
Ueber  eine  Beziehung  der  Selektionstheorie  zur  Erkenntnistheorie, 
concludes  with  the  following  words  which  might  be  placed  as  a 
motto  for  pragmatism:  'The  utility  of  cognition  produces  at  the 
same  time  the  objects  of  cognition'  (p.  45). 

''Simmel  sees  in  the  utility  of  cognition  the  primary  factor 
which  matures  certain  methods  of  procedure  so  that  'originally  cog- 
nition was  not  first  called  true  and  then  useful,  but  first  useful  and 
afterwards  true.'  This  criterion  of  truth  by  its  tendency  towards 
an  act  of  selection  receives  from  Simmel  that  biological  bent  which 
has  prevailed  since  the  appearance  in  the  field  of  Avenarius  and 
Mach.  The  thought  is  itself  essentially  Leibnitzian.  Leibnitz  con- 
cedes true  existence  only  to  that  which  works  (quod  agit).  In  Eng- 
land and  America  this  criterion  of  truth  has  been  given  the  epithet 
'instrumental'  in  contrast  to  'normative.' ' 

The  tendency  is  in  the  air,  but  Professor  James  has  made 
himself  the  standard  bearer  of  the  movement.  Stein  says: 

"At  first  pragmatists  sailed  under  various  flags.  Those  who 
were  of  an  especially  logical  turn,  originally  called  themselves  'in- 
tentional' or  'instrumental.'  James  was  called  a  'radical  empiricist' 
before  he  brought  forward  the  word  in  the  year  1898  in  a  lecture 
before  Professor  Howison's  philosophical  union  at  the  University 
of  California,  and  made  a  special  application  of  it  to  religion. 
(Cf.  Pragmatism,  p.  47).  F.  C.  S.  Schiller  was  called  'humanist' 
before  he  joined  James  and  adopted  the  designation  pragmatism 
for  his  world-conception.  And  so  summing  up  we  can  well  say 
that  the  same  struggle  which  took  place  in  the  last  decade  in  Ger- 
many between  psychologists  and  logicians — the  polemical  pamphlet 
of  Melchior  Palagyi  gives  the  best  account  of  the  situation — on  the 
other  side  of  the  water  takes  the  form  of  a  skirmish  between  prag- 
matists and  spiritualists  or  idealists,  pur  sang.  Protagoras  is  the 
model  of  the  one  party  (Schiller  professes  to  follow  Protagoras 
as  perhaps  also  Laas  and  Mach),  Plato  that  of  the  other.  A  new 
wine  in  old  bottles.  The  sentimentalism  of  the  pragmatism  of 


142  THE  MONIST. 

James  comes  from  Protagoras,  but  on  the  other  hand  he  owes  both 
method  and  expression  to  Aristotle." 

Whether  Professor  Stein  is  right  in  regarding  pragmatism  as 
opposed  to  "spiritualism  or  idealism  pur  sang"  is  rather  doubtful, 
for  we  must  remember  that  Professor  James  himself  and  many  of 
his  adherents  have  vigorously  defended  some  of  the  most  disputed 
facts  of  spiritualistic  seances.  It  is  well  known  that  Professor 
James  still  believes  in  the  genuineness  of  occult  phenomena  and  com- 
munications from  the  dead  to  the  living. 

Pragmatism  is  a  strange  compound  of  many  contradictory  con- 
ceptions and  it  is  probable  that  Professor  Stein  systematizes  it 
more  than  the  pragmatists  themselves  would  approve.  Pragmatism 
is  in  a  word  sentimentalism,  that  is  to  say,  it  places  all  reality  in 
sentiment.  This  is  done  also  by  Mach  in  so  far  as  Mach  deems 
sensations  to  be  the  ultimate  realities.  Yet  for  all  that,  James  draws 
other  conclusions  and  incorporates  in  his  conception  of  sentiment 
many  things  which  Mach  would  cut  out  as  illusions.  There  is  an 
unmistakable  kinship  between  Schopenhauer,  Nietzsche  and  James 
as  pointed  out  by  Professor  Stein.  He  says: 

"The  kernel  of  the  whole  matter  is  the  supremacy  of  the  will, 
practical  reason  as  Kant  would  say,  over  thought.  Therefore 
James  also  is  a  much  stricter  voluntarist  or  activist  than,  say, 
Wundt;  he  approaches  more  nearly  the  theory  of  the  supremacy 
of  feeling  over  understanding  as  it  was  prevalent  in  the  English 
sentimentalist  philosophy  of  the  eighteenth  century,  and  is  to-day 
in  the  psychological  school  of  Th.  Ribot  in  France  and  in  the 
'world-conception  theory' of  H.  Gomperz  in  Vienna.  The  voluntarism 
of  Schopenhauer  receives  in  James  as  well  as  in  Ribot  the  Hamann- 
Jacobi  tendency  which  Goethe  once  expressed  in  the  terse  formula 
'sentiment  is  everything*  (Gefiihl  ist  alles).  Quite  without  justi- 
fication James  leads  a  passionate  polemic  against  Herbert  Spencer 
in  whom  he  sees  his  opposite  pole  with  relation  to  the  theory  of 
cognition,  while  Spencer  in  his  latest  works  teaches  entirely  and 
without  reserve  supremacy  of  feeling  as  much  as  James  and  Ribot. 
Whoever  reads  Spencer's  treatise  'Feelings  versus  Intellect'  in  his 
last  work  Facts  and  Comments  (1902)  will  find  the  following  sen- 
tences which  appear  literally  in  Duns  Scotus,  but  which  are  no  less 
decisive  than  those  of  James:  The  chief  component  of  mind  is 
feeling'  (p.  25) ...  .'emotions  are  the  masters  and  intellect  the 
servant'  (p.  30).  That  is  the  James-Ribot  form  of  the  voluntarism 
of  Schopenhauer. . . . 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  143 

"The  voluntarist  James  should  take  one  step  farther  and  enlist 
himself  in  the  ranks  of  the  great  voluntarists  and  energeticists  from 
the  Scotists  to  Fichte's  'being  springs  from  doing,'  and  Nietzsche's 
'will  for  power.'  In  reality  the  question  in  pragmatism  is  nothing 
else  than  a  consistent  development  of  the  supremacy  of  practical 
reason  not  in  a  sense  of  a  Kant-Platonizing  concept-realism  but  in 
the  style  of  that  innate  nominalism  which  has  pervaded  England 
since  Duns  Scotus,  Roger  Bacon  and  William  Occam.  For  already 
with  these  English  nominalists,  as  is  the  case  to-day  with  James, 
an  extreme  voluntarism  was  combined  with  the  supremacy  of  the 
practical  reason,  an  epistemological  nominalism  with  an  ethical  in- 
dividualism." 

Professor  James  who  often  has  his  fling  at  Kant  may  be  sur- 
prised to  find  that  there  is  a  great  probability  that  the  word  prag- 
matism is  directly  derived  from  Kant.  It  is  interesting  to  read 
what  Professor  Stein  has  to  say: 

"Kant  is  perhaps  the  innocent  cause  that  the  name  pragmatism 
has  been  taken  up  and  has  been  made  the  small  coin  of  daily  philo- 
sophical intercourse.  In  this  connection  I  am  thinking  less  about 
the  title  of  Kant's  anthropology  which-  Kant  himself  labeled  'prag- 
matically considered'  (in  pragmatischer  Hinsicht),  but  on  Kant's 
preface  to  this  work  in  which  the  pragmatic  is  opposed  to  the 
physiological:  'The  physiological  knowledge  of  man  rests  upon  the 
investigation  of  what  nature  makes  of  man :  the  pragmatic,  on  that 
which  as  a  free  agent  he  makes  of  himself  or  can  and  should  make 
of  himself.'  So  according  to  Kant  all  rules  of  intelligence,  for 
instance,  are  pragmatic  (Grundlegung  zur  Metaphysik  der  Sitten, 
p.  42,  Rosenkranz  ed.).  Everything  practical  which  serves  human 
welfare  he  calls  pragmatic.  'The  practical  principle  derived  from  the 
hankering  after  happiness  I  call  pragmatic'  (Kritik  der  reinen  Ver- 
nunft,  p.  6n).  Hence  according  to  Kant,  pragmatism  would  be  a 
rule  of  prudence  or  a  utilitarian  demand  of  merely  accidental  persua- 
sive power.  The  distinctive  mark  of  the  useful  and  the  universally 
valid  is  derived  from  pragmatic  cognition.  It  is  only  a  belief,  not 
knowledge  (Kritik  der  reinen  Vernunft,  p.  623).  And  indeed  the 
question  is  not  of  a  necessary  but  of  an  accidental  belief.  'I  call 
such  accidental  beliefs  which  however  lie  at  the  bottom  of  the 
actual  employment  of  the  means  to  certain  actions,  pragmatic  be- 
liefs' (Kritik  der  reinen  Vernunft,  p.  628).  Thus  we  may  see  that 
according  to  Kant  a  pragmatic  conception  of  truth  such  as  James 


144  THE  MONIST. 

and  Schiller  have  to-day  established,  represents  pretty  well  the  first 
step  to  the  knowledge  of  truth 

"The  utilitarian  is  the  undertone  of  the  pragmatic,  and  exactly 
this  pragmatic  utilitarian  sous  entendu  is  as  great  a  discord  to  the 
ear  of  the  German  idealist  of  Konigsberg  as  it  is  sweet  harmony 
flattering  the  ear  of  the  'smart'  American.  For  Kant  utility  is  a 
counter-argument  to  absolute  moral  worth,  hence  the  pragmatically 
useful  method  of  observation  or  treatment  is  only  of  value  in  orien- 
tating, as  a  card  catalogue  or  alphabetical  arrangement  is  to  the 
librarian,  for  these  are  always  better  as  rules  of  wisdom  than  ab- 
solute disorder.  But  such  a  pragmatic  arrangement  is  in  the  most 
favorable  instance  an  artificial,  even  though  ever  so  useful,  classi- 
fication of  the  schools,  but  not  a  classification  made  by  nature.  The 
distinction  between  pragmatic  classification  and  the  accuracy  of  the 
classification  according  to  nature  is  according  to  Kant  a  fundamental 
one  (IVerke,  VI,  315)  ;  the  classification  of  the  schools  has  only 
one  purpose,  namely  to  bring  created  things  under  their  proper 
title,  the  classification  according  to  nature  endeavors  instead  to  bring 
them  under  laws." 

Professor  Stein's  tendency  to  systematize  appears  in  the  fol- 
lowing comment.  He  says: 

"Heinrich  von  Stein  in  his  'Seven  Books  on  the  History  of 
Platonisnv  has  produced  the  convincing  proof  that  philosophical 
thought  has  vibrated  back  and  forth  in  constant  rhythm  for  two 
thousand  years  between  Plato  and  Aristotle.  This  is  true  as  well 
of  the  twentieth  century  as  of  its  predecessors.  Half  a  century 
ago  Trendelenburg  brought  Aristotle  again  to  our  knowledge.  The 
neo-Kantianism  under  the  leadership  of  Cohen  on  the  other  hand 
helped  Plato  to  victory.  Just  now  Aristotle  is  again  on  top  by  the 
roundabout  way  via  Leibnitz.  Those  thinkers  who  are  interested 
in  biological  considerations  are  to-day  grouping  themselves  again 
around  Aristotle  just  as  those  who  tend  in  a  mathematically  logical 
direction  cluster  around  Plato.  In  Germany  this  dissension  appears 
under  the  slogans,  Psychologism  against  Logism,  Vitalism  against 
Mechanicalism,  and  Positivism  against  Idealism.  In  America  and 
England  it  has  coined  the  formula,  Pragmatism  against  Transcen- 
dentalism. Tout  comme  chez  nous.  The  French  maxim:  plus  que 
ga  change,  plus  c'est  la  meme  chose  is  true  of  philosophical  con- 
troversies, schools,  party  designations,  and  catch  words." 

Professor  Stein  appears  to  go  too  far  in  characterizing  the  dif- 
ferent philosophers  as  either  Platonists  or  Aristotelians.  It  is  true 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  145 

that  there  is  a  contrast  between  a  recognition  of  the  facts  upon 
which  our  world-conception  is  based  and  the  theories  which  furnish 
the  system  of  its  construction.  But  if  he  would  carefully  compare 
Plato  and  Aristotle  he  would  find  (as  has  been  pointed  out  from  time 
to  time)  that  Aristotle  is  a  Platonist  and  Plato  is  an  Aristotelian. 
Though  Aristotle  has  his  fling  at  the  Platonic  ideas  he  practically 
adopts  the  theory  that  there  are  eternal  types,  and  though  Plato  is 
an  idealist  who  believes  in  the  eternal  ideas  as  the  modes  of  things, 
he  does  not  deny  that  the  phenomenal  world  is  the  actual  world  of 
sense ;  and  the  contrast  in  which  these  two  systems  have  frequently 
been  placed  is  a  contrast  merely  produced  by  more  or  less  of  em- 
phasis laid  upon  two  opposed  (not  contradictory)  principles,  and 
the  different  systems  in  the  history  of  philosophy  are  exactly  char- 
acterized by  the  way  in  which  they  combine  the  contrast  and  recog- 
nize the  truth  of  these  principles.  It  is  true,  however,  that  Pro- 
fessor James  carries  the  principle  of  pragmatism  to  such  an  ex- 
treme as  to  almost  entirely  obliterate  the  principle  of  systematic 
thought,  theory,  logic,  rationality,  etc.  Professor  James  is  a  roman- 
ticizing philosopher  in  contrast  to  such  stern  and  strict  classical 
thinkers  as  Kant  and  his  school.  Says  Stein :  "The  type  of  thought 
directly  opposed  to  this  logistic  classicism  is  sentimental  romanti- 
cism. As  the  former  longs  for  the  peace  of  the  conclusive  answer 
the  latter  seeks  the  eternal  activity  of  restless  questioning;"  and 
further  down  on  page  172:  "Pragmatism  gathers  together  all  those 
tendencies  of  our  age  with  its  fevered  philosophical  excitement 
which  carry  on  a  common  war  against  the  thing-in-itself,  against 
all  metaphysics,  against  transcendentalism,  idealism,  in  short  against 
that  Platonizing  Kantism  which  is  most  conspicuously  represented 
and  most  appreciatively  supported  by  the  Marburg  school  (Cohen 
and  Natorp),  under  the  names  Natural  Philosophy,  Energetics, 
Psychologism,  Positivism,  Phenomenalism,  Friesian  Empiricism, 
and  Relativism." 

Here  the  onesidedness  of  Professor  Stein's  classification  ap- 
pears most  pronounced.  From  the  point  of  view  of  my  own  philos- 
ophy I  would  be  at  a  loss  in  what  manner  to  dispose  of  it.  I  am 
decidedly  opposed  to  the  subjectivism  of  Professor  James,  I  most 
emphatically  uphold  the  objective  significance  of  truth,  and  yet  I 
reject  the  idea  of  the  thing-in-itself  and  all  metaphysics  based  upon 
it.  My  solution  of  the  problem21  briefly  stated  runs  thus :  There  are 

81  For  details  see  my  criticism  of  Kant  in  my  little  book  Kant's  Prolegom- 
ena ;  and  also  my  exposition  of  the  problem  in  my  Surd  of  Metaphysics  in  the 
chapter  "Are  There  Things-in-Themselves  ?" 


146  THE  MONIST. 

not  things-in-themselves  but  there  are  forms-in-themselves.  Pro- 
fessor Stein  declares: 

"For  many  years  together  with  certain  ones  of  my  pupils  I  have 
defended  the  thesis  that  Kant  did  not  refute  Hume.  In  my  book 
"The  Social  Optimism"  (Der  soziale  Optimismus,  Jena,  Costenoble, 
1905)  I  demonstrate  that  Hume  is  not  a  skeptic  but  the  leader  of 
positivism  and  that  Kant  has  not  refuted  him  in  any  point.  The  case 
is  not  yet  at  an  end." 

I  have  not  seen  Professor  Stein's  exposition  of  his  views  on 
Kant  and  Hume,  but  I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  I  would  agree 
with  him.  However,  I  trust  that  in  the  books  referred  to  I  have 
pointed  out  the  weak  point  of  Kant's  position;  but  on  the  basis  of 
the  Kantian  conception  of  the  contrast  between  matter  and  form, 
the  a  posteriori  and  the  a  priori,  sensation  and  pure  Anschauung 
with  all  that  it  involves,  I  hope  to  have  answered  Hume's  question 
and  thus  laid  a  foundation  for  a  system  in  which  the  old  contrasts 
will  find  a  just  reconciliation.  Here  are  some  paragraphs  of  Pro- 
fessor Stein's  critique  of  pragmatism : 

"A  criticism  of  pragmatism  must  proceed  from  the  inside  out- 
ward ;  that  is,  from  its  own  hypotheses,  and  not  from  the  standpoint 
of  idealism,  as  Miinsterberg  attempts.  There  are  two  different  tem- 
peraments as  James  has  rightly  said,  but  temperaments  are  not  to 
be  opposed.  'As  I  see  it'  now  stands  as  the  inscription  before  every 
temple,  not  only  the  pantheon  of  art  but  also  the  severe  cathedral  of 
science.  To  see  in  one's  own  way  can  never  be  criticised.  The 
question  is  only  whether  a  man  has  seen  rightly  from  his  own  stand- 
point, and  right  here  is  the  starting-point  of  our  own  objection  to 
pragmatism .... 

"In  place  of  the  two  criteria  of  truth  represented  by  Plato 
(Aristotle  too)  and  Kant,  namely  necessity  and  universal  validity, 
we  have  here  the  hedonistic  utilitarian  criteria  of  truth,  individual 
utility  and  general  practicability.  The  true  and  the  good  agree 
with  each  other;  this  is  the  demand  of  the  biologic-teleological 
foundation  of  logic  as  pragmatism  states  it.  In  addition,  it  is  true, 
to  earlier  tendencies  of  thought,  but  still  with  a  strongly  emphasized 
personal  note. 

"Against  this  biological  logic  a  series  of  considerations  arise  in 
the  meantime  even  under  the  foundation  of  the  pragmatic  point  of 
departure  wherefore  I  expressly  affirm  that  I  will  neither  repeat  the 
arguments  which  Husserl  in  his  fundamental  'Logical  Investigations' 
and  Miinsterberg  in  his  'Philosophy  of  Values'  (Philosophic  der 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  147 

Werte,  Leipsic,  Barth,  1908)  have  arranged  in  imposing  conclusive- 
ness  against  all  psychologism.  I  do  not  propose  to  refer  here  to  even 
the  purely  polemical  literature  of  the  English,  French  and  Italians 
against  pragmatism.22  It  is  much  more  important  for  me  to  con- 
sider the  difficulties  of  thought  which  in  spite  of  my  sympathetic 
position  towards  the  fundamental  demands  of  pragmatism  I  can 
not  suppress.  If  Messrs.  James  and  Schiller  will  take  the  trouble 
to  look  through  my  'The  End  of  the  Century'  (Wende  des  Jahr- 
hunderts,  Tubingen,  Mohr,  1899),  'The  Sense  of  Existence'  (Der 
Sinn  des  Daseins,  ibid.,  1904)  and  'The  Social  Optimism'  (Der  so- 
ziale  Optimismus,  Jena,  Costenoble,  1905),  they  will  discover  now 
and  again  almost  verbal  correspondences  in  that  which  I  call  evolu- 
tionary criticism  and  the  optimism  of  energetics.  In  case  James 
and  Schiller  would  attempt  to  claim  me  as  well  as  Wilhelm  Jerusa- 
lem in  the  ranks  of  pragmatism,  I  shall  have  to  point  out  my  opin- 
ions against  methods  and  results .... 

"Pragmatism  with  its  genetic  theory  of  truth  is  only  new  in  that 
it  discloses  itself  as  logical  evolution.  Truth  is  placed  in  the  stream 
of  practical  development.  As  once  the  followers  of  the  Heraclitean 
Cratylos,  the  teacher  of  Plato  to  whom  he  had  dedicated  his  dialogue 
of  the  same  name,  are  jokingly  called  the  'flowing  ones/23  prag- 
matists  recognize  only  one  developing  truth  which  will  gradually 
approach  the  absolute  truth  or  its  ideal  heights." 

Professor  Stein  takes  the  underlying  principles  of  pragmatism 
and  systematizes  them — in  spite  of  Professor  James.  The  latter  may 
not  take  the  consequences  but  Professor  Stein  seems  to  argue  that  if 
pragmatism  were  consistent  Professor  James  ought  to  hold  the  views 
to  be  derived  from  its  maxims.  We  doubt  very  much  whether  Pro- 
fessor James  would  be  prepared  to  regard  the  ego  as  "  a  mere  prac- 
tical unit  for  a  preliminary  provisional  consideration"  (p.  182). 
Stein  says  : 

"Mach's  definition  of  the  ego  as  unity  of  purpose  and  James's 
theory  of  concepts  or  classes  as  teleological  instruments,  arise  from 
the  common  fundamental  conviction  that  all  spiritual  life  is  teleo- 
logical. The  teleological  unity  of  the  ego  according  to  Mach  rests 
upon  an  unanalysed  constant.  The  ego  is  accordingly  a  practical 
unit  for  a  preliminary  provisional  consideration.  The  same  is  the 
case  with  concepts  of  substance,  being,  doing,  matter,  spirit.  They 

a  Among  the  last  G.  Vailati  is  of  a  special  importance.  See  "De  quelques 
caracteres  du  mouvement  philosophique  contemporain  en  Italic,"  Revue  de 
mois,  1907. 

38  or  XorTej,  i.  e.,  those  that  are  in  a  constant  flux. 


148  THE  MONIST. 

are  abbreviated  symbols  for  the  purpose  of  an  easier  orientation  in 
the  surrounding  world.  All  science  thus  shrinks  into  one  impres- 
sion as  all  deduction  according  to  Mill  is  only  an  abbreviation  and 
inverted  induction,  a  memorandum  for  thought 

"Here  we  have  the  proton  pseudos2*  as  well  of  pragmatism  as 
of  Hume's  positivism  and  all  related  tendencies.  Quite  apart  from 
the  fact  that  the  biological  method  which  James  and  his  school 
would  apply  to  logic  is  already  shattered  on  the  fact  that  biology 
itself  is  still  to-day  in  the  condition  of  fermentation  and  insecurity 
and  accordingly  possesses  no  suitability  for  a  foundation  of  the  most 
certain  of  all  sciences,  formal  logic,  pragmatism  takes  the  same 
course  which  Hume  was  not  able  to  escape.  Hume  refers  substance 
and  causality  to  habits  of  thought  and  laws  of  association ;  but  how 
have  laws  of  association  found  entrance  into  the  human  brain  ?  Why 
have  all  men  and  animals  the  same  laws  of  association  by  contiguity 
or  innate  similarity?  Hume  concludes  the  validity  of  the  laws  of 
association  by  means  of  the  laws  of  association  already  in  effect .... 

"It  is  quite  clear,  however,  that  pragmatism  too  has  it  a  priori, 
that  is  the  telos,  and  if  we  jest  about  the  logism  of  Kant,  that  in 
spite  of  us  man  comes  into  the  world  with  a  completed  table  of 
categories  so  let  us  not  forget  to  consider  the  beam  in  our  own 
eye.  We  are  all  a  priori  sinners.  Or,  does  it  matter  so  much  if  man 
comes  into  the  world  according  to  Kant  with  a  table  of  categories, 
according  to  Hume  with  completed  laws  of  association,  according 
to  Avenarius  and  Mach  with  an  automatically  functioning  economy 
of  thought,  and  finally  according  to  James  and  Schiller  with  an 
apparatus  of  utility  and  selection  like  an  innate  scale  of  values? 
Let  us  first  of  all  be  honest  with  ourselves.  Pragmatism  accom- 
plishes nothing  but  to  set  up  a  teleology  of  consciousness  in  the  place 
of  a  mechanics  of  consciousness  such  as  Hobbes,  Spinoza,  Hartley, 
Priestley,  Hume,  the  naturalists,  materialists,  and  psychologists  of 
association  have  offered  us." 

EDITOR. 


A  STUDY  IN  ABNORMAL  PSYCHOLOGY. 

Ever  since  Professor  Ribot  published  his  book  on  The  Diseases 
of  Personality  people  interested  in  psychology  have  been  aware  of 
the  importance  of  the  remarkable  cases  enumerated  in  the  book. 
Among  them  the  most  interesting  and  perhaps  the  most  instructive 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  149 

group  is  that  relating  the  phenomenon  of  double  personality  which 
by  later  observations  has  had  to  be  amplified  into  multiple  personal- 
ity, a  remarkable  disease  that  throws  much  light  upon  the  nature  of 
personality.  Dr.  Morton  Prince  has  written  a  book1  rich  in  material 
on  the  subject,  and  we  might  at  the  start  repeat  the  author's  state- 
ment that  a  more  correct  term  of  the  disease  would  be  "disintegrated 
personality,"  for  each  secondary  personality  is  a  part  only  of  a  normal 
whole  self. 

The  bulk  of  the  book  is  filled  with  observations  of  the  case  of 
a  patient  whom  he  calls  Miss  Beauchamp,  a  name  that  is  pronounced 
"Beecham"  and  has  been  adopted  for  the  purpose  of  disguising  the 
identity  of  the  subject.  It  is  not  the  patient's  name  but  one  which 
at  the  start  of  the  disease  was  taken  up  by  one  of  her  secondary 
personalities,  invented  to  distinguish  herself  from  the  others.  Dr. 
Morton  Prince  uses  it  to  denote  the  whole  personality  which  during 
the  course  of  the  disease  is  broken  up  into  four,  briefly  alluded  to 
as  "B  I."  "B  II,"  "B  III,"  and  "B  IV." 

The  expositions  of  the  case  continue  the  line  of  work  started 
by  Professor  Ribot,  and  Siclis  and  Goodhart ;  they  prove  that  the 
theory  of  Professor  Ribot  is  correct,  and  the  cases  he  has  collected 
are  here  paralleled,  though  the  material  here  presented  is  fuller, 
richer  and  more  detailed  than  that  of  Dr.  Prince's  French  predeces- 
sor. This  does  not  say  that  Ribot's  valuable  book  is  antiquated. 
On  the  contrary,  Ribot's  Diseases  of  Personality2  remains  classical 
for  the  very  reason  that  it  is  brief  and  contains  in  a  narrow  compass 
the  main  outlines  of  the  basis  upon  which  stand  his  American  suc- 
cessors Boris  Sidis  and  Morton  Prince.  The  book  of  Sidis  and 
Goodhart3  is  more  complete  and  treats  the  subject  with  great  thor- 
oughness, entering  also  into  a  discussion  of  dream  life,  the  dual 
life,  mental  resurrection,  infant  personality,  etc. 

The  reviewer  has  discussed  the  problem  of  double  personality 
in  his  Soul  of  Man*  pp.  258  ff. ;  he  there  calls  attention  to  the 
dream-ego  which  sometimes  forms  a  personality  quite  unlike  the 
normal  character  in  the  waking  condition.  A  secondary  personality 
however,  is  more  stable  then  the  personality  of  the  fleeting  dream. 

The  book  before  us  is  in  its  main  bvilk  a  biographical  study  of 

1  The  Dissociation  of  a  Personality.    A  Biographical  Study  in  Abnormal 
Psychology.    By  Morton  Prince,  M.D.    London :  Longmans  Green,  1908. 

8  Chicago :  The  Open  Court  Publishing  Co. 

3  Multiple  Personality ;  New  York :  Apleton,  1905. 

'Chicago:  The  Open  Court  Publishing  Co. 


I5O  THE  MONIST 

a  most  instructive  case.  It  is  impossible  to  enter  into  details,  but 
we  will  say  that  the  patient,  Miss  Beauchamp,  possesses  a  remarkable 
amount  of  information  regarding  her  infirmity,  and  thus  she  is  in 
many  respects  well  fitted  for  a  subject  of  psychological  observation. 
Dr.  Prince  begins  his  cure  by  hypnotizing  his  patient,  and  finally 
succeeds  in  curing  her. 

Dr.  Prince  describes  the  conditions  of  the  case  on  page  23 : 

"The  whole  history  of  the  Beauchanmp  'family'  has  been  like  that  of  a 
person  who  has  been  exposed  to  an  almost  daily  series  of  railroad  accidents 
or  nervous  shocks.  Owing  primarily  to  a  natural,  and  secondarily  to  a  still 
greater  acquired,  instability  of  nervous  organization,  the  contre-temps  of 
ordinary  life  have  acted  like  a  series  of  mild  shocks,  resulting  in  little  trau- 
matic neuroses.  The  immediate  effects  have  been  removed  from  time  to  time 
by  suggestion;  but  the  original  fundamental  instability,  magnified  a  hundred- 
fold by  the  psychological  disintegration  which  was  brought  about  by  a  mental 
accident  of  recent  date,  has  made  possible  a  frequent  repetition  of  such  shocks. 
Most  instructive  is  the  fact  that  with  the  complete  synthesis  of  all  the  per- 
sonalities into  one,  with  the  reintegration  of  the  shattered  mental  organization, 
stability  becomes  re-established  and  the  physical  health  becomes  normal." 

Dr.  Prince  attempted  to  cure  Miss  Beauchamp  through  sugges- 
tion in  a  hypnotic  state  and  the  personality  of  "B  II"  was  from  the 
start  simply  Miss  Beauchamp  asleep.  But  soon  the  strange  phe- 
nomenon was  observed  that  the  hypnotized  subject  spoke  of  her- 
self either  as  "I"  or  as  "she,"  and  this  occurred  at  distinct  periods. 
When  the  patient  used  the  pronoun  "she/'  she  did  not  remember 
her  own  sayings  which  she  had  uttered  in  the  state  when  she  spoke 
in  the  first  person.  Dr.  Prince  says : 

"The  hypnotic  self,  then,  let  it  be  borne  in  mind,  is  distinctly  the  same  per- 
sonality as  Miss  Beauchamp  awake.  She  speaks  of  herself  as  the  same  per- 
son, making  no  distinction  whatsoever,  except  that  she  is  now  'asleep/  or 
what  'you  call  asleep.'  On  the  other  hand,  when  awake,  as  already  stated  in 
the  introduction,  she  has  no  knowledge  or  remembrance  of  herself  in  the  hyp- 
notic state.  On  awaking  there  is  complete  oblivion  of  everything  said  and 
done  in  hypnosis.  There  is  also  a  large  degree  of  passiveness  in  the  hypnotic 
self.  She  sits  with  her  eyes  closed  (never  having  been  allowed  to  open  them), 
and  though  she  converses,  and  even  sometimes  argues  and  defends  her  own 
views,  she  tends  to  passiveness.  like  most  subjects  in  hypnosis. 

"Up  to  this  time  the  only  personality  with  which  I  was  acquainted,  and  the 
only  one  known  to  her  friends,  was  the  Miss  Beauchamp  whom  I  have  just 
described  as  B  I.  But  there  now  appeared  upon  the  scene  a  new  character, 
who  was  destined  to  play  the  leading  role  in  the  family  drama  that  was  en- 
acted during  a  period  of  six  years.  This  character  at  first  appeared  to  be  a 
second  hypnotic  state,  but  later  proved  a  veritable  personality,  with  an  indi- 
viduality that  was  fascinatingly  interesting  to  watch ;  she  largely  determined 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS. 

the  dramatic  situations,  and  consequently  the  health,  happiness,  and  fortunes 
of  Miss  Beauchamp.  She  became  known  successively  as  B  III,  Chris,  and 
finally  as  Sally,  according  as  acquaintance  with  her  grew." 

Dr.  Prince  was  careful  to  avoid  influencing  any  one  of  these 
several  personalities  by  his  own  suggestions.  He  experimented 
again  and  again.  But,  says  he: 

"Repeated  experiences  made  it  plain  that  Miss  Beauchamp  when  hypno- 
tized fell  into  one  or  the  other  of  two  distinct  mental  states,  or  selves,  whose 
relations  to  the  primary  waking  consciousness,  as  well  as  their  memories, 
were  strikingly  different.  From  the  very  first  they  claimed  different  relations 
with  the  waking  Miss  Beauchamp." 

The  condition  of  the  patient  during  her  disease  of  multiple 
personality  is  briefly  summarized  as  follows : 

"She  may  change  her  personality  from  time  to  time,  often  from  hour  to 
hour,  and  with  each  change  her  character  becomes  transformed  and  her  mem- 
ories altered.  In  addition  to  the  real,  original  or  normal  self,  the  self  that 
was  born  and  which  she  was  intended  by  nature  to  be,  she  may  be  any  one  of 
three  different  persons.  I  say  three  different,  because,  although  making  use  of 
the  same  body,  each,  nevertheless,  has  a  distinctly  different  character;  a  dif- 
ference manifested  by  different  trains  of  thought,  by  different  views,  beliefs, 
ideals,  and  temperament,  and  by  different  acquisitions,  tastes,  habits,  experi- 
ences, and  memories.  Each  varies  in  these  respects  from  the  other  two,  and 
from  the  original  Miss  Beauchamp.  Two  of  these  personalities  have  no 
knowledge  of  each  other  or  of  the  third,  excepting  such  information  as  may 
be  obtained  by  inference  or  second  hand,  so  that  in  the  memory  of  each  of 
these  two  there  are  blanks  which  correspond  to  the  times  when  the  others  are 
in  the  flesh.  Of  a  sudden  one  or  the  other  wakes  up  to  find  herself,  she  knows 
not  where,  and  ignorant  of  what  she  has  said  or  done  a  moment  before.  Only 
one  of  the  three  has  knowledge  of  the  lives  of  the  others,  and  this  one  presents 
such  a  bizarre  character,  so  far  removed  from  the  others  in  individuality, 
that  the  transformation  from  one  of  the  other  personalities  to  herself  is  one 
of  the  most  striking  and  dramatic  features  of  the  case.  The  personalities  come 
and  go  in  kaleidoscopic  succession,  many  changes  often  being  made  in  the 
course  of  twenty-four  hours.  And  so  it  happens  that  Miss  Beauchamp,  if  I 
may  use  the  name  to  designate  several  distinct  people,  at  one  moments  says 
and  does  and  plans  and  arranges  something  to  which  a  short  time  before  she 
most  strongly  objected,  indulges  tastes  which  a  moment  before  would  have 
been  abhorrent  to  her  ideals,  and  undoes  or  destroys  what  she  had  just  labo- 
riously planned  and  arranged. 

"Aside  from  the  psychological  interest  of  the  phenomena,  the  social  com- 
plications and  embarrasments  resulting  from  this  inconvenient  mode  of  living 
would  furnish  a  multitude  of  plots  for  the  dramatist  or  sensational  novelist. 
Considered  simply  as  a  biography,  therefore,  an  account  of  Miss  Beauchamp's 
later  life  could  scarcely  fail  to  interest,  if  it  were  told  divested  of  the  details 
which  are  necessary  for  the  purpose  of  scientific  study." 


152  THE  MONIST. 

A  disintegration  of  the  normal  personality  into  several  secon- 
dary personalities  does  not,  or  need  not,  mean  a  serious  disturbance 
of  other  mental  functions,  for  says  Dr.  Prince: 

"Disintegration  as  thus  used  must  not  be  confused  with  the  same  term 
sometimes  employed  in  the  sense  of  degeneration,  meaning  a  destroyed  mind 
or  organically  diseased  brain.  Degeneration  implies  destruction  of  normal 
psychical  processes,  and  may  be  equivalent  to  insanity;  whereas  the  disinte- 
gration resulting  in  multiple  personality  is  only  a  functional  dissociation  of 
that  complex  organization  which  constitutes  a  normal  self.  The  elementary 
psychical  processes,  in  themselves  normal,  are  capable  of  being  reassociated 
into  a  normal  whole." 

Dr.  Morton  Prince's  book  contains,  however,  many  more  inter- 
esting phenomena  which  are  worth  our  while  to  know  and  investi- 
gate. The  most  important  of  them,  so  it  seems  to  us,  is  a  phenom- 
enon of  great  significance  in  the  line  of  religious  experience  which 
has  been  characterized  by  psychologists,  among  them  Prof.  William 
James,  as  "sudden  conversion."  The  patient  under  Dr.  Morton 
Prince's  care,  Miss  Beauchamp,  though  not  of  a  specially  religious 
nature,  experienced  a  state  quite  analogous  to  the  transformation 
in  religious  experience  which  after  a  sudden  crisis  endows  a  person 
with  a  new  conception  of  the  world.  After  a  period  of  unsettled 
thought  the  patient  changes  for  good  and  assumes  a  stable  character, 
well  balanced,  and  we  might  almost  say  cured.  All  doubts  have 
gone,  and  what  has  been  prepared  during  the  crisis  is  suddenly 
organized  into  a  state  of  comparatively  great  stability.  Difficulties 
are  removed,  problems  settled  and  peace  is  attained.  In  describing 
such  a  change  in  Miss  Beauchamp  Dr.  Prince  distinguishes  between 
the  intellectual  and  emotional  attitudes;  the  pictures  of  the  many 
scenes  which  she  saw,  the  places  in  which  she  found  herself  during 
the  period  of  hallucination,  the  friends  with  whom  she  conversed, 
the  visions  she  had  of  Christ  and  the  saints,  the  music  she  heard, 
from  the  several  states  of  emotion,  of  peacefulness,  of  rest,  of  exal- 
tation, of  lightness  of  body,  of  mental  relief,  of  joyousness,  etc. 
The  emotional  states  continued  as  if  indicating  that  they  were  the 
stable  elements  in  her  mental  condition  while  the  intellectual  features 
of  it  that  found  expression  in  concrete  pictures,  scenes  or  words, 
including  voices  which  she  heard,  were  of  a  more  fleeting  nature. 
Dr.  Prince  describes  her  state  as  follows : 


"After  a  short  time  Miss  Beauchamp  awoke,  and  on  waking  all  the  mem- 
ories which  made  up  the  consciousness  of  the  hypnotic  state  were  forgotten. 
At  first  her  mind  was  a  blank  so  far  as  logical  ideas  were  concerned.  She 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  153 

thought  of  nothing  definite,  though  soon  ideas  rapidly  flitted  through  her  mind, 
and  yet  she  was  filled  with  emotions.  They  were  the  same  emotions  which  be- 
longed to  the  different  memories  of  the  hypnotic  state.  These  emotions  persisted. 
They  were  of  lightness  of  body,  of  physical  restfulness,  and  well-being,  besides 
those  of  exaltation,  joyousness,  and  peace,  largely  of  a  religious  nature.  It  is 
probable,  reasoning  from  analogous  phenomena  that  I  have  witnessed,  there 
were  subconsciously  present  a  number  of  disconnected  images,  or  memories, 
— remnants  of  those  which  had  been  experienced  in  the  trance  state,  and  asso- 
ciated with  the  emotions.  Presently  ideas  began  to  come  into  her  mind.  The 
emotions  were  now  accompanied  by  a  lot  of  ideas  and  memories  of  religious 
experiences.  It  is  significant  that  these  ideas  were  not  those  originally  asso- 
ciated with  the  emotions  in  hypnosis,  but  newly  suggested  ideas.  At  least  they 
appear  to  have  been  suggested  by  the  emotions.  She  felt  well  and  believed 
herself  cured  at  last." 

The  case  of  Miss  Beauchamp  bears  many  striking  similarities 
to  kindred  occurrences  enumerated  by  Prof.  William  James  in  his 
Varieties  of  Religions  Experience. 

These  observations  on  sudden  conversion  are  supplemented  by 
Dr.  Prince  in  the  appendix  to  the  second  edition  which  contains  a 
very  remarkable  case  of  a  new  patient  of  his.  The  case  being  of 
great  interest  we  here  reprint  the  whole  account: 

"I  am  enabled  to  add  another  case  which  I  had  an  opportunity  to  subject  to 
psycho-analysis  almost  immediately  after  the  crisis.  Although  it  is  not  of  the 
religious  type,  it  is  the  same  in  principle,  being  a  conversion  from  the  attitude 
of  doubts,  dissatisfaction,  bitterness,  and  rebellion  against  life  to  one  of  peace, 
contentment,  and  faith.  The  fact  that  the  same  phenomena  are  observed  where 
the  conversion  is  not  of  religious  faith  is  of  importance  in  connection  with  the 
spiritualistic  interpretation ;  for  manifestly  if  we  find  the  same  phenomena 
where  religion  is  not  a  factor,  but  where  the  psychological  conditions  are  iden- 
tical, the  phenomena  may  be  referred  to  a  common  principle,  viz.,  psycho- 
logical laws. 

'The  subject  was  at  once  particularly  favorable  both  for  the  development 
of  the  phenomena  in  question  and  for  a  psycho-analytical  investigation.  She 
is  a  cultivated,  intellectual  person,  who  is  interested  in  psychological  problems 
and  contributes  her  co-operation  to  their  solution.  She  can  be  easily  hypno- 
tized and  several  states  obtained,  each  with  a  different  range  of  memory.  The 
time  of  the  episode  was  the  anniversary  of  her  husband's  death,  which  had 
happened  three  years  previously,  and  in  consequence  of  which  she  had  gone 
through  much  mental  anguish,  more  than  ordinarily  belongs  to  such  sorrow, 
owing  to  certain  indirect  consequences  which  the  necessity  of  concealing  the 
identity  of  the  subject  forbids  my  referring  to.  This  fact,  however,  has  a 
direct  bearing  on  the  phenomenon.  As  the  anniversary  approached,  the  painful 
memories  began  to  occupy  her  mind ;  and  during  the  two  preceding  weeks  she 
was  tormented  by  doubts,  pain,  and  distress.  Harassing  dreams,  not  remem- 
bered, however,  after  waking,  had  produced  physical  pain  in  the  form  of 
headache  and  prostration.  These  had  been  recovered  from  before  the  episode 
occurred.  When  the  day  was  near,  she  determined  to  fight  against  the  dis- 


154  THE  MONIST. 

tressing  memories  and  the  old  ideas  of  dissatisfaction  with  life,  the  feelings 
of  injury,  bitterness,  and  rebellion  against  fate,  and  the  'kicking  against  the 
pricks'  which  these  memories  evoked.  For  a  long  time  she  had  tried  to  accept 
the  new  situation  and  the  new  ethical  point  of  view,  but  with  only  temporary 
success.  With  great  effort  she  heroically  put  all  these  ideas  out  of  her  mind 
and  did  not  allow  herself  to  think  of  them.  She  supposed  she  had  done  so 
successfully. 

"My  first  intimation  of  what  occurred  was  contained  in  the  following 
letter,  which,  it  should  be  noted,  was  written  an  hour  after  the  occurrence, 
while  the  facts  were  vivid  in  her  mind: 

"  'It  is  one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  but  I  feel  I  must  write  you  of  the 
strange  thing  which  has  just  happened  to  me.  To-day,  or  rather  yesterday, 
was  the  day  of  my  husband's  death.  I  kept  myself  very  busy  all  day  and  would 
not  allow  myself  to  think,  but  when  I  came  to  my  room  at  night  I  could  no 
longer  repress  the  memories  against  which  I  have  steeled  myself  for  more 
than  a  week.  It  came  upon  me  like  a  flood — all  that  I  had  lost — all  that  I 
could  never  have  again — memories  of  happy  days  and  bitter  ones.  I  did  grieve, 
I  did  feel  all  the  old  remorse,  the  old  self-reproach,  the  bitter  rebellion  and 
anguish  of  heart.  I  could  not  help  it,  Dr.  Prince — there  was  no  one  to  speak 
to  and  I  fought  against  it  as  long  as  I  could.  Mr. died  just  before  mid- 
night, and  as  that  hour  approached  I  was  kneeling  by  my  bed — not  to  pray — 
my  heart  was  too  bitter  for  that — I  don't  know  why  I  was  kneeling — but  all 
at  once  I  saw  my  husband  before  me,  perfectly  plain  and  distinct  but  not  ill 
and  worn  as  I  remember  him.  He  looked  well,  strong,  happy.  He  stood  on 
the  other  side  of  the  bed  from  me  and  seemed  surrounded  by  a  luminous 
vapor,  and  his  whole  appearance  was  of  brightness.  As  I  looked  he  spoke — 
the  words  ring  in  my  ears  now.  He  said:  "If  I  were  still  ruled  by  earthly 
emotion  nothing  could  make  me  so  unhappy  as  to  see  you  as  you  are  now. 
As  when  I  was  with  you  I  wished  you  to  be  happy  so  I  wish  you  to  be  happy 
now.  Remember  me  or  forget  me — it  makes  no  difference  in  the  end — love 
never  dies.  Think  no  more  sad  or  gloomy  thoughts,  fill  your  life  with  every 
pleasure;  by  so  doing  you  make  possible  to  me  a  higher,  fuller  life." 

"  'A  feeling  of  peace,  so  deep,  so  enthralling,  came  upon  me.  I  felt  his 
love  about  me  like  an  atmosphere — it  was  almost  palpable — I  rested  in  it.  I 
did  not  move,  and  the  vision  faded.  I  was  not  asleep,  Dr.  Prince.  I  did  not 
lose  consciousness.  I  am  somewhat  unnerved  now.  I  hardly  know  what  to 
think.  Several  explanations  suggest  themselves  to  me  at  once.  I  had  eaten 
very  little — I  was  somewhat  exhausted  by  several  hours  of  grief.  The  words 
represent  thoughts  I  have  sometimes  had  myself ;  they  may  also  be  suggestions 
you  have  given  me  in  hypnosis,  they  may  be  something  I  have  read — I  don't 
know ;  but  it  has  made  a  deep  impression  on  me,  and  though  I  am  no  believer 
in  spiritism  I  cannot  help  but  feel  that  at  least  with  him  "all  is  well."  The 
past  is  gone,  the  present  is  mine,  and  1  will,  with  your  help,  try  to  use  it 
wisely.  This  is  Tuesday  morning,  1.15, 1908. 

"Here  was  a  chance,  not  to  be  lost,  to  investigate  the  psychological  con- 
ditions underlying  the  hallucinations  and  the  after  effects.  So,  at  the  first 
opportunity,  a  psycho-analysis  was  undertaken.  Then  conditions  to  be  deter- 
mined were:  First,  the  conscious  content  of  the  subject's  mind  preceding  the 
hallucinations ;  second,  the  character  of  the  mental  state  at  the  time  of  their 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  155 

occurrence;  third,  what,  if  any,  co-conscious  states  existed  previous  to,  during, 
and  after  the  hallucinations;  fourth,  the  character  of  the  mental  complexes 
succeeding  the  episode.  Taking  the  last  first,  it  is  sufficient  to  say  that  the 
subject  was  in  an  unusually  happy  and  peaceful  state  of  mind,  in  kind  that 
described  in  the  last  sentence  but  one  of  the  letter.  She  was  not,  however, 
in  a  state  of  ecstasy  or  undue  elation,  but  rather  in  a  normal,  peaceful  mood 
such  as  one  would  attain  who  had  lost  previously  distressing  doubts,  mem- 
ories, and  perverted  points  of  view  and  now  had  attained  a  new  and  more 
healthy  conception  of  life  and  her  relation  to  it.  The  emotional  tone  was 
that  of  joyousness  and  happiness,  which  stood  in  marked  contrast  with  the 
mental  tone  which,  for  the  most  part,  as  I  have  observed  it,  has  dominated  her 
conscious  life.  Physically  and  mentally  she  seemed  unusually  well.  She 
could  not  give  any  further  explanation  of  the  development  of  the  hallucina- 
tions beyond  what  she  had  written.  She  remembered  nothing  more  that  threw 
light  upon  the  incident.  It  proved  afterwards,  however,  that  there  was  a 
gap  in  her  memory. 

"The  psycho-analysis  was  made  in  three  different  hypnotic  states,  the 
memories  of  which,  as  with  Miss  Beauchamp,  were  not  coextensive.  The  gen- 
eral result  may  thus  be  summarized:  While  the  subject  was  on  her  knees,  her 
glance  fell  upon  a  photograph  of  her  husband.  From  the  glass  covering  this 
a  bright  electric  light  was  reflected  directly  into  her  eyes.  She  went  into  a 
light  hypnotic  condition  in  which  she  had  the  hallucination.  After  coming 
out  of  this  light  trance  there  was  no  amnesia  for  it  excepting  for  the  percep- 
tion of  the  photograph  which  she  did  iiot  consciously  recognize,  but  the 
visual  hallucination  came  at  the  moment  when  her  eyes  met  the  photograph. 

'The  conditions  were  more  complex,  however,  than  this.  During  the  two 
weeks  preceding  the  crisis,  as  a  result  of  the  stress  and  strain  through  which 
she  was  passing,  there  developed  a  condition  of  light  disintegration.  The 
thoughts  which  she  believed  she  had  put  out  of  her  mind  continued  to  a  greater 
or  less  degree  as  a  stream  of  subconscious  thought.  She  was  not  aware  of 
this  stream,  although  from  time  to  time  it  arose  into  her  consciousness  only 
to  be  put  out  again.  Besides  this  there  were  all  sorts  of  co-conscious  memories 
of  the  past  in  the  form  of  visual  pictures,  similar  to  what  has  been  described 
in  the  Beauchamp  case.  Just  before  she  had  the  hallucination  there  was  pres- 
ent a  co-conscious  visual  picture  of  her  husband.  This  undoubtedly  co- 
operated with  the  co-conscious  perception  of  the  photograph  to  produce  the 
visual  hallucination.  The  words  spoken  by  the  voice  were  a  reproduction  in 
substance  of  words  spoken  to  her  about  two  months  previously  by  a  friend 
who  tried  to  reconcile  her  with  the  conditions  of  her  life.  This  she  had  for- 
gotten in  the  sense  that  she  had  not  recalled  it  or  connected  it  with  the  episode. 
The  experience  was  voluntarily  recalled  by  only  one  of  the  dissociated  states 
which  offered  it  as  explanation  of  the  hallucinatory  words.  The  other  two  and 
the  subject  herself  recognized  the  identity  of  the  sentiments  and  probable 
origin  when  asked  if  this  friend  had  ever  spoken  of  the  matter  to  her.  The 
hallucinatory  words  were,  therefore,  a  conscious  automatism  arising  from  the 
unconscious. 

"Succeeding  the  crisis  there  also  developed  co-conscious  pictures  which 
affected  her  consciously  and  tended  to  strengthen  the  new  faith  in  the  con- 
ditions as  they  existed,  and  the  new  attitude  of  mind." 


156  THE  MONIST. 

A  LETTER  FROM   PROFESSOR  JAMES. 

Among  the  philosophers  of  to-day  there  is  scarcely  any  more 
interesting  figure  than  that  of  Prof.  William  James  of  Harvard ;  and 
his  philosophy,  which,  adopting  an  expression  of  Mr.  Chas.  S.  Peirce, 
he  calls  pragmatism,  is  as  broadly  before  the  public  as  any  system 
of  thought.  Our  readers  will  therefore  be  glad  to  find  in  the  present 
number  an  article  by  Prof.  Edwin  Tausch  on  "The  Great  Prag- 
matist,"  which  is  written  in  a  sympathetic  tone,  and  Professor  James 
himself  has  perused  this  psychological  analysis  of  his  mental  makeup. 
He  gives  expression  to  his  sentiments  on  the  subject  in  these  words: 

"I  have  read  with  great  relish  your  diagnosis  of  my  case.  . . . 
I  am  astounded  at  the  knowledge  you  show  of  my  ipsissima  verba, 
and  it  gives  me  a  queer  feeling  to  be  treated  so  philologically.  I 
find  your  account  of  my  evolution  instructive,  though  I  am  hardly 
able  to  criticize  it  as  one  might  who  knew  me  from  without.  I  can't 
tell  about  utilitarianism— I  didn't  come  to  it  unaided,  but  was  taught 
it  by  Chauncey  Wright,  whose  anti-religious  teaching,  however,  I 
reacted  against.  I  think  you  overdo  my  personal  mysticism.  It  has 
always  seemed  to  me  rather  a  matter  of  fair  play  to  the  various 
kinds  of  experience  to  let  mystical  ecstacy  have  its  voice  counted 
with  the  rest.  As  far  as  I  am  personally  concerned  it  is  the  ordinary 
sense  of  life  that  every  working  moment  brings,  that  makes  me  con- 
temptuous of  rationalistic  attempts  to  substitute  thin  logical  formu- 
las for  it.  My  /?7c..r-philosophy  may  well  have  to  do  with  my  ex- 
tremely impatient  temperament.  I  am  a  motor,  need  change,  and  get 
very  quickly  bored. 

"I  say  nothing  of  your  general  plan  of  tracing  beliefs  to  tem- 
peramental needs.  I  believe  it  is  in  essence  quite  sound,  though 
hard  to  rescue  from  the  appearance  of  superficiality.  In  sum,  I  have 
found  the  essay  extraordinarily  competent  and  interesting/' 

I  will  add  that  we  owe  the  opportunity  of  publishing  Professor 
Tausch's  analysis  of  "the  great  pragmatist"  to  Professor  James 
himself,  who  advised  the  author  that  his  article  might  be  a  welcome 
contribution  to  The  Monist,  and  we  wish  to  express  our  indebtedness 
for  this  suggestion  to  Professor  James  publicly.  We  take  it  as  an 
evidence  that  our  critical  review  of  pragmatism  has  not  been  amiss 
but  is  received  in  the  spirit  in  which  it  was  written. 

EDITOR. 


BOOK  REVIEWS  AND  NOTES. 

PHILOSOPHY.    By  Nicholas  Murray  Butler. 

MATHEMATICS.    By  Cassius  Jackson  Keyser.    New  York :  Columbia  University 
Press,  1908. 

We  have  received  two  pamphlets  of  the  Columbia  University  series  of 
lectures  on  science,  philosophy  and  art  which  are  now  in  progress  of  publica- 
tion. The  one  entitled  "Philosophy"  by  President  Butler  is  a  survey  of  the 
present  situation  in  the  philosophical  world  which  contains  valuable  sugges- 
tions and  illuminating  flashes  of  light.  We  quote  the  following  sentences 
verbatim : 

"To  grasp  in  fullest  significance  the  movement  of  contemporary  thought, 
and  to  pass  judgment  upon  it  with  some  approach  to  a  proper  sense  of  propor- 
tion, the  student  must  know  his  Kant.  Max  Miiller's  phrase  was  a  good  one : 
'Kant's  language  is  the  lingua  franca  of  modern  philosophy.'  It  is  not  too 
much  to  say  that  without  an  understanding  of  Kant  the  door  to  a  just  appre- 
ciation of  modern  thought  is  closed 

"It  is  said  of  Kant  that  he  used  to  tell  his  students  at  Konigsberg  that 
he  sought  to  teach  them,  not  philosophy,  but  how  to  think  philosophically. 
This  view  of  the  teaching  of  philosophy,  which  I  hold  to  be  the  correct  one,  is 
the  reason  why  students  of  philosophy,  particularly  beginners,  should  concern 
themselves  with  the  works  of  the  genuine  masters  of  philosophic  thinking,  and 
not  waste  their  time  and  dissipate  their  energies  upon  the  quasi-philosophical 
and  the  frivolously-philosophical  writing,  chiefly  modern  and  largely  contem- 
porary, which  may  be  not  inappropriately  described  as  involving  Great  Jour- 
neys to  the  Homes  of  Little  Thoughts ! 

"The  clever  intellectual  posing  and  attitudinizing  of  Nietzsche,  whose  body 
and  mind  alike  were  sorely  stricken  with  illness,  is  only  a  travesty  upon  phi- 
losophy. The  curiously  barren  efforts  of  Haeckel,  when  he  leaves  the  field  of 
science  in  which  he  is  an  adept,  are  but  little  better.  Even  the  form  of  philos- 
ophy called  Pragmatism,  for  which  the  great  names  of  Oxford,  Harvard  and 
Columbia  are  academic  sponsors,  and  which  when  unfolded  to  the  man  in  the 
street  leads  him  to  howl  with  delight  because  he  at  last  understands  things, 
should  come  late  and  not  early  in  a  student's  philosophical  reading.  A  back- 
ground of  considerable  philosophical  knowledge  will  aid  in  giving  it  a  just 
appreciation.  There  are  critics  who  have  the  fear  that  Pragmatism,  in  its 
attempt  to  be  both  profound  and  popular,  may,  forgetful  of  the  ancient  warn- 
ing of  Plautus,  suffer  from  attempting  to  blow  and  to  swallow  at  the  same 
time." 


158  THE   MONIST. 

The  essay  on  mathematics,  written  by  Professor  Keyser,  may  fitly  be  called 
a  rhapsody  on  mathematics.  To  our  mind  Professor  Keyser's  scorn  of  applied 
mathematics  in  contrast  to  popular  mathematics  is  exaggerated.  It  seems  to 
us  that  applied  mathematics  is  the  best  explanation  of  the  seriousness  and  the 
paramount  significance  of  mathematical  truth.  At  the  same  time  we  do  not 
venture  to  criticize  Professor  Keyser  for  his  admiration  of  pure  mathematics 
which  looms  like  a  lofty  peak  into  the  heavens  while  its  roots  are  buried  in 
earthly  soil.  We  were  especially  pleased  with  the  following  passage : 

"Phrase  it  as  you  will,  there  is  a  world  that  is  peopled  with  ideas,  en- 
sembles, propositions,  relations,  and  implications,  in  endless  variety  and  multi- 
plicity, in  structure  ranging  from  the  very  simple  to  the  endlessly  intricate 
and  complicate.  That  world  is  not  the  product  but  the  object,  not  the  creature 
but  the  quarry  of  thought,  the  entities  composing  it — propositions,  for  ex- 
ample,— being  no  more  identical  with  thinking  them  than  wine  is  identical  with 
the  drinking  of  it.  Mind  or  no  mind,  that  world  exists  as  an  extra-personal 
affair, — Pragmatism  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding." 

The  world  of  mathematics  is  not  a  mere  fantastical  construction  but  it  is 
the  reconstruction  of  a  world  of  necessary  relations,  and  as  such  it  possesses 
an  objective  significance.  It  is  not  man-made  nor  mind-made  nor  purely  ideal 
fancy  but  eternal  and  of  objective  significance.  The  domain  of  this  world  of 
mathematics  must  be  exploited  as  much  as  the  domain  of  natural  science. 
Professor  Keyser  says: 

"Just  as  the  astronomer,  the  physicist,  the  geologist,  or  other  student  of 
objective  science  looks  abroad  in  the  world  of  sense,  so,  not  metaphorically 
speaking  but  literally,  the  mind  of  the  mathematician  goes  forth  into  the  uni- 
verse of  logic  in  quest  of  the  things  that  are  there ;  exploring  the  heights  and 
depths  for  facts — ideas,  classes,  relationships,  implications,  and  the  rest;  ob- 
serving the  minute  and  elusive  with  the  powerful  microscope  of  his  Infinitesi- 
mal Analysis;  observing  the  elusive  and  vast  with  the  limitless  telescope  of 
his  Calculus  of  the  Infinite ;  making  guesses  regarding  the  order  and  internal 
harmony  of  the  data  observed  and  collated ;  testing  the  hypotheses,  not  merely 
by  the  complete  induction  peculiar  to  mathematics,  but,  like  his  colleague  of 
the  outer  world,  resorting  also  to  experimental  tests  and  incomplete  induction ; 
frequently  finding  it  necessary,  in  view  of  unforeseen  disclosures,  to  abandon 
a  once  hopeful  hypothesis  or  to  transform  it  by  retrenchment  or  by  enlarge- 
ment : — thus,  in  his  own  domain,  matching,  point  for  point,  the  processes, 
methods  and  experience  familiar  to  the  devotee  of  natural  science." 


THE  PERSISTENT  PROBLEMS  OF  PHILOSOPHY.  An  Introduction  to  Metaphysics 
Through  the  Study  of  Modern  Systems.  By  Mary  Whiton  Calkins. 
New  York:  Macmillan,  1907.  Pp.  xxii,  575.  Price  $2.50  net. 

The  author  says  in  the  preface,  "I  have  audaciously  attempted  to  combine 
what  seem  to  me  the  essential  features  of  a  systematic  Introduction  to  Meta- 
physics with  those  of  a  History  of  Modern  Philosophy.  This  I  have  done 
both  because  I  believe  that  the  problems  of  philosophy  are,  at  the  outset,  best 
studied  as  formulated  in  the  actual  systems  of  great  thinkers,  and  because  the 
historical  sequence  of  philosophies,  from  Descartes's  to  Hegel's,  seems  to 
coincide,  roughly,  with  a  logical  order." 

In  order  to  accomplish  this  task  the  author  has  classified  the  best  known 


BOOK  REVIEWS  AND  NOTES.  159 

philosophers  as  numerically  monistic  and  numerically  pluralistic,  and  again 
as  qualitatively  monistic  and  qualitatively  pluralistic.  Here  is  the  scheme. 

Qualitatively  pluralistic :  Descartes  and  Locke. 

Qualitatively  Monistic:  (i)  Non-idealistic,  Hobbes;  (2)  Idealistic,  (a) 
Spiritualistic,  Leibnitz  and  Berkeley;  (b)  Phenomenalistic,  Hume. 

Qualitatively  Pluralistic :  Spinoza. 

Qualitatively  Monistic :  Idealistic,  Spiritualistic :  Schopenhauer  and  Hegel. 

Dualism  so  far  as  we  understand  is  as  different  from  pluralism  as  it  is 
from  monism,  yet  in  Miss  Calkins's  scheme  it  is  treated  as  a  form  of  plural- 
ism. 

The  omission  of  Kant  is  explained  thus : 

"Kant,  in  spite  of  his  unequalled  influence  on  nineteeenth-century  philos- 
ophy, as  well  as  Fichte  and  Schelling,  are  not  referred  to  in  this  table,  on  the 
ground  that  their  systems,  as  internally  inconsistent,  fail  to  represent  any  one 
type  of  philosophy." 

Kant  receives  a  special  treatment  in  Chapter  VII  entitled  "An  Attack 
upon  Dualism  and  Phenomenalism,"  while  Fichte  and  Schelling  are  treated 
in  Chapter  IX  as  an  "Advance  Toward  Monistic  Spiritualism." 

While  these  several  philosophers  might  not  be  pleased  to  find  themselves 
so  labeled  and  subsumed  under  categories  which  do  not  seem  to  cover  the 
requirements,  Miss  Calkins  makes  up  for  any  coloring  which  this  treatment 
of  the  different  philosophies  receive  by  many  quotations  and  references,  which 
of  course  will  be  most  serviceable  to  the  student  for  whose  use  the  book  is 
mainly  intended. 

ESSAYS  PHILOSOPHICAL  AND  PSYCHOLOGICAL.  In  Honor  of  William  James, 
Professor  in  Harvard  University.  By  his  Colleagues  of  Columbia  Uni- 
versity. London:  Longmans,  Green,  1908.  Pp.  610. 

According  to  the  prefatory  note  this  volume  is  intended  to  mark  in  some 
degree  its  authors'  sense  of  Professor  James's  memorable  services  in  philos- 
ophy and  psychology,  the  vitality  he  has  added  to  those  studies,  and  the 
encouragement  that  has  flowed  from  him  to  colleagues  without  number. 
Early  in  1907,  at  the  invitation  of  Columbia  University,  he  delivered  a  course 
of  lectures  there,  and  met  the  members  of  the  philosophical  and  psychological 
departments  on  several  occasions  for  social  discussion.  They  acknowledge 
an  added  motive  for  the  present  work  in  the  recollections  of  this  visit. 

To  enumerate  the  authors  is  to  call  the  roll  of  the  faculty  of  the  depart- 
ments of  philosophy  and  psychology  in  Columbia  University  in  1907,  and  the 
subjects  cover  the  range  of  realism,  idealism,  pragmatism,  ethics,  methodology 
and  history  of  philosophy. 

SCHOLASTICISM,  OLD  AND  NEW.     By  M.  de  Wulf.    Translated  by  P.  Coffey, 

D.  Ph.    New  York:  Benziger,  1907.     Pp.  327. 

This  is  the  translation  of  the  author's  Introduction  a  la  philosophie  neo- 
scolastique  which  was  written  with  the  object  in  view  to  "combat  false  con- 
ceptions, to  coordinate  true  notions  and  so  to  furnish  the  reader  with  some 
general  information  on  the  new  scholasticism."  The  book  treats  separately 
in  two  parts  "Medieval  Scholastic  Philosophy"  and  "Modern  Scholastic  Phi- 
losophy" and  in  these  the  author  has  attempted  to  compare  point  by  point  the 


I6O  THE  MONIST. 

ideas  of  the  past  with  those  of  the  present.  The  book  bears  the  imprimatur 
of  the  Archbishop  of  New  York,  and  the  author  states  in  his  preface  that  this 
volume  contains  the  program  of  instruction  which  the  Institute  of  Philosophy 
of  Louvain  University  has  outlined  for  itself  and  is  endeavoring  to  carry  out. 


In  the  history  of  American  philosophy  the  Concord  school  plays  an  im- 
portant part  and  represents  a  delightful  period  in  which  thinkers  of  different 
dispositions  but  all  animated  with  the  love  of  philosuphical  thought,  met  for 
friendly  intercourse  and  discussion.  Dr.  Edmund  Montgomery  was  one  of 
them,  and  perhaps  more  than  any  of  the  others  he  represented  the  philo- 
sophical spirit  as  seen  from  the  point  of  view  of  a  physiologist.  On  his  part 
he  pointed  out  the  significance  of  the  life  process  for  philosophhical  con- 
sideration, and  has  stood  for  the  same  up  to  the  present  day  when  a  book  of 
his  entitled  Philosophical  Problems  in  the  Light  of  Vital  Organization  (a 
stately  volume  of  over  460  pages)  containing  the  matured  results  of  his  phi- 
losophy, has  appeared  bearing  the  imprint  of  G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons.  In  this 
number  of  The  Monist  he  presents  his  message  to  the  world  in  an  article  which 
will  render  some  points  of  his  position  clear.  We  regret  to  say  that  at  the 
present  moment  Dr.  Montgomery  is  dangerously  ill  at  his  home,  Liendo 
Plantation,  Hempstead,  Texas.  For  those  readers  not  familiar  with  details 
of  American  philosophers  we  will  state  here  that  Dr.  Montgomery,  as  the 
name  indicates,  is  of  Scotch  blood,  and  was  educated  in  Germany  at  a  time 
when  the  interest  in  philosophy  was  at  its  height.  He  studied  medicine  in 
German  universities,  specializing  in  his  favorite  subjects  physiology  and  biology, 
and  was  at  the  same  time  carried  away  with  the  spirit  of  freedom  which  was 
agitating  the  German  mind  in  the  years  of  the  German  revolution  of  1848. 

At  Frankfort  on  the  Main  he  met  Elizabet  Ney,  the  famous  disciple  of 
Rauch,  and  an  artist  whose  statuary  in  Marble  Hall  at  Washington  attracts 
the  attention  of  visitors  to  the  Capitol.  (For  further  details  see  the  article 
by  Bride  McNeil  Taylor  in  The  Open  Court,  Vol.  XXI,  p.  592.)  She  was 
engaged  at  that  time  in  making  her  well-known  bust  of  Schopenhauer,  the 
only  one  that  exists  of  the  great  pessimist.  Dr.  Montgomery  married  Elizabet 
Ney,  and  both  joined  a  group  of  emigrants  who  wanted  to  build  up  an  ideal 
community  in  the  new  world.  They  went  to  Texas  where  together  they  in- 
vested their  little  fortune  in  the  Liendo  Plantation,  which  is  now  under  the 
supervision  of  their  son. 

The  report  of  the  Anthropological  Museum  of  Berlin  contains  an  article 
by  A.  von  Le  Coq  on  a  Manichee-Uigurian  manuscript  found  in  Idiqut- 
Shahri.  The  manuscript  is  of  great  interest  because  it  proves  the  influence 
of  Zoroaster  upon  the  later  Manicheean  religion.  It  is  a  sample  only  of  a 
large  number  of  other  manuscripts  which  were  discovered  in  an  expedition 
under  Prof.  F.  W.  K.  Miiller,  one  of  the  most  indefatigable  workers  of  the 
Berlin  ethnological  museum.  The  manuscript  here  published  is  written  in 
Uigurian  writing,  not  in  Estrangelo  script  as  other  Turkish  manuscripts.  The 
translation  proves  it  to  be  the  description  of  a  fight  between  Zoroaster  and  a 
demon  who  is  finally  vanquished  and  killed.  The  name  Zoroaster  is  spelled 
"Zrusc  burchan." 


VOL.  XIX.  APRIL,  1909.  No.  2. 


THE  MONIST 


AKBAR,  EMPEROR  OF  INDIA. 

A  PICTURE  OF  LIFE  AND  CUSTOMS  FROM  THE  SIXTEENTH 

CENTURY.* 

^  HE  student  of  India  who  would  at  the  same  time  be 
JL  an  historian,  discovers  to  his  sorrow  that  the  land  of 
his  researches  is  lamentably  poor  in  historical  sources.  And 
if  within  the  realm  of  historical  investigation,  a  more  se- 
ductive charm  lies  for  him  in  the  analysis  of  great  per- 
sonalities than  in  ascertaining  the  course  of  historical  de- 
velopment, then  verily  may  he  look  about  in  vain  for  such 
personalities  in  the  antiquity  and  middle  ages  of  India. 
Not  that  the  princely  thrones  were  wanting  in  great  men  in 
ancient  India,  for  we  find  abundant  traces  of  them  in  Hindu 
folk-lore  and  poetry,  but  these  sources  do  not  extend  to 
establishing  the  realistic  element  in  details  and  furnishing 
life-like  portraits  of  the  men  themselves.  That  the  Hindu 
has  ever  been  but  little  interested  in  historical  matters  is 
a  generally  recognized  fact.  Religious  and  philosophical 
speculations,  dreams  of  other  worlds,  of  previous  and  fu- 
ture existences,  have  claimed  the  attention  of  thoughtful 
minds  to  a  much  greater  degree  than  has  historical  reality. 
The  misty  myth-woven  veil  which  hangs  over  persons 
and  events  of  earlier  times,  vanishes  at  the  beginning  of 

*This  article  was  an  address  delivered  in  abridged  form  by  the  author 
Dr.  Richard  von  Garbe,  Rector  of  Tubingen  University,  on  the  occasion  of 
the  birthday  of  King  Wilhelm  II  of  Wiirttemberg,  on  February  25,  1909.  It 
has  been  translated  for  The  Monist  by  Lydia  Gillingham  Robinson. 


l62  THE  MONIST. 

the  modern  era  which  in  India  starts  with  the  Moham- 
medan conquest,  for  henceforth  the  history  of  India  is 
written  by  foreigners.  Now  we  meet  with  men  who  take 
a  decisive  part  in  the  fate  of  India,  and  they  appear  as 
sharply  outlined,  even  though  generally  unpleasing,  per- 
sonalities. 

Islam  has  justly  been  characterized  as  the  caricature 
of  a  religion.  Fanaticism  and  fatalism  are  two  conspicu- 
ously irreligious  emotions,  and  it  is  exactly  these  two  emo- 
tions, which  Islam  understands  how  to  arouse  in  savage 
peoples,  to  which  it  owes  the  part  it  has  played  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  world,  and  the  almost  unprecedented  success 
of  its  diffusion  in  Asia,  Africa  and  Europe. 

About  1000  A.  D.  India  was  invaded  by  the  Sultan 
Mahmud  of  Ghasna.  "With  Mahmud's  expedition  into 
India  begins  one  of  the  most  horrible  periods  of  the  history 
of  Hindustan.  One  monarch  dethrones  another,  no  dy- 
nasty continues  in  power,  every  accession  to  the  throne  is 
accompanied  by  the  murder  of  kinsmen,  plundering  of 
cities,  devastation  of  the  lowlands  and  the  slaughter  of 
thousands  of  men,  women  and  children  of  the  predecessor's 
adherents ;  for  five  centuries  northwest  and  northern  India 
literally  reeked  with  the  blood  of  multitudes."3  Moham- 
medan dynasties  of  Afghan,  Turkish  and  Mongolian  origin 
follow  that  of  Ghasna.  This  entire  period  is  filled  with  an 
almost  boundless  series  of  battles,  intrigues,  imbroglios 
and  political  revolutions ;  nearly  all  events  had  the  one  char- 
acteristic in  common,  that  they  took  place  amid  murder, 
pillage  and  fire. 

The  most  frightful  spectacle  throughout  these  reeking 
centuries  is  the  terrible  Mongolian  prince  Timur,  a  suc- 
cessor of  Genghis-Khan,  who  fell  upon  India  with  his  band 
of  assassins  in  the  year  1398  and  before  his  entry  into  Delhi 
the  capital,  in  which  he  was  proclaimed  Emperor  of  India, 

1  E.  Schlagintweit,  Indien  in  Wort  und  Bild,  II,  26  f. 


AKBAR,  EMPEROR  OF  INDIA.  163 

caused  the  hundred  thousand  prisoners  whom  he  had  cap- 
tured in  his  previous  battles  in  the  Punjab,  to  be  slaught- 
ered in  one  single  day,  because  it  was  too  inconvenient  to 
drag  them  around  with  him.  So  says  Timur  himself  with 
shameless  frankness  in  his  account  of  the  expedition,  and 
he  further  relates  that  after  his  entry  into  Delhi,  all  three 
districts  of  the  city  were  plundered  "according  to  the  will 
of  God/'2  In  1526  Babu,  a  descendant  of  Timur,  made 
his  entry  into  Delhi  and  there  founded  the  dominion  of  the 
Grand  Moguls  (i.  e.,  of  the  great  Mongols).  The  over- 
throw of  this  dynasty  was  brought  about  by  the  disastrous 
reign  of  Baber's  successor  Aurungzeb,  a  cruel,  crafty  and 
treacherous  despot,  who  following  the  example  of  his  an- 
cestor Timur,  spread  terror  and  alarm  around  him  in  the 
second  half  of  the  seventeenth  and  the  beginning  of  the 
eighteenth  centuries.  Even  to-day  Hindus  may  be  seen  to 
tremble  when  they  meet  the  sinister  fanatical  glance  of  a 
Mohammedan. 

Princes  with  sympathetic  qualities  were  not  entirely 
lacking  in  the  seven  centuries  of  Mohammedan  dominion 
in  India,  and  they  shine  forth  as  points  of  light  from  the 
gloomy  horror  of  this  time,  but  they  fade  out  completely 
before  the  luminous  picture  of  the  man  who  governed  India 
for  half  a  century  (1556-1605)  and  by  a  wise,  gentle  and 
just  reign  brought  about  a  season  of  prosperity  such  as 
the  land  had  never  experienced  in  the  millenniums  of  its 
history.  This  man,  whose  memory  even  to-day  is  revered 
by  the  Hindus,  was  a  descendant  of  Baber,  Abul  Path 
Jelaleddin  Muhammed,  known  by  the  surname  Akbar  "the 
Great,"  which  was  conferred  upon  the  child  even  when  he 
was  named,  and  completely  supplanted  the  name  that  prop- 
erly belonged  to  him.  And  truly  he  justified  the  epithet, 
for  great,  fabulously  great,  was  Akbar  as  man,  general, 
statesman  and  ruler, — all  in  all  a  prince  who  deserves  to 

2  A.  Miiller,  Der  Islam  im  Morgen-  und  Abendland,  II,  300  f. 


164  THE  MONIST. 

be  known  by  every  one  whose  heart  is  moved  by  the  spec- 
tacle of  true  human  greatness.3 

When  we  wish  to  understand  a  personality  we  are  in 
the  habit  of  ascertaining  the  inherited  characteristics,  and 
investigating  the  influences  exercised  upon  it  by  religion, 
family,  environment,  education,  youthful  impressions,  ex- 
perience, and  so  forth.  Most  men  are  easily  comprehen- 
sible as  the  products  of  these  factors.  The  more  inde- 
pendent of  all  such  influences,  or  the  more  in  opposition  to 
them,  a  personality  develops,  the  more  attractive  and  inter- 
esting will  it  appear  to  us.  At  the  first  glance  it  looks  as 
if  the  Emperor  Akbar  had  developed  his  entire  character 
from  himself  and  by  his  own  efforts  in  total  independence 
of  all  influences  which  in  other  cases  are  thought  to  deter- 
mine the  character  and  nature  of  a  man.  A  Mohammedan, 
a  Mongol,  a  descendant  of  the  monster  Timur,  the  son  of  a 
weak  incapable  father,  born  in  exile,  called  when  but  a  lad 
to  the  government  of  a  disintegrated  and  almost  annihi- 
lated realm  in  the  India  of  the  sixteenth  century, — which 
means  in  an  age  of  perfidy,  treachery,  avarice,  and  self- 
seeking, — Akbar  appears  before  us  as  a  noble  man,  suscep- 
tible to  all  grand  and  beautiful  impressions,  conscientious, 
unprejudiced,  and  energetic,  who  knew  how  to  bring  peace 
and  order  out  of  the  confusion  of  the  times,  who  through- 
out his  reign  desired  the  furtherance  of  his  subjects*  and 
not  of  his  own  interest,  who  while  increasing  the  privileges 

*  From  the  literature  on  Emperor  Akbar  the  following  works  deserve 
special  mention :  J.  Talboys  Wheeler,  The  History  of  India  from  the  Earliest 
Ages.  Vol.  IV,  Pt.  I,  "Mussulman  Rule,"  London,  1876  (judges  Akbar  very 
unfairly  in  many  places,  but  declares  at  the  bottom  of  page  135,  "The  reign 
of  Akbar  is  one  of  the  most  important  in  the  history  of  India ;  it  is  one  of  the 
most  important  in  the  history  of  the  world") ;  Mountstuart  Elphinstone, 
History  of  India,  the  Hindu  and  Mahometan  Periods,  with  notes  and  additions 
by  E.  B.  Cowell,  Qth  ed.,  London,  1905;  G.  B.  Malleson,  Akbar  and  the  Rise  of 
the  Mughal  Empire,  Oxford,  1890  (in  W.  W.  Hunter's  Rulers  of  India)  ; 
A.  Miiller,  Der  Islam  im  Morgen-  und  Abendland,  Vol.  II,  Berlin,  1887;  but 
especially  Count  F.  A.  von  Noer,  Kaiser  Akbar,  ein  Versuch  uber  die  Ge- 
schichte  Indiens  im  sechzehnten  Jahrhundert,  Vol.  I,  Leyden,  1880 ;  Vol.  II, 
revised  from  the  author's  manuscript  by  Dr.  Gustav  von  Buchwald,  Leyden, 
1885.  In  the  preface  to  this  work  the  original  sources  are  listed  and  described ; 
compare  also  M.  Elphinstone,  pp.  536,  537,  note  45. 


AKBAR,  EMPEROR  OF  INDIA.  165 

of  the  Mohammedans,  not  only  also  declared  equality  of 
rights  for  the  Hindus  but  even  actualized  that  equality, 
who  in  every  conceivable  way  sought  to  conciliate  his  sub- 
jects so  widely  at  variance  with  each  other  in  race,  cus- 
toms, and  religion,  and  who  finally  when  the  narrow  dog- 
mas of  his  religion  no  longer  satisfied  him,  attained  to  a 
purified  faith  in  God,  wrhich  was  independent  of  all  formu- 
lated religions. 

A  closer  observation,  however,  shows  that  the  contrast 
is  not  quite  so  harsh  between  what  according  to  our  hypoth- 
eses Akbar  should  have  been  as  a  result  of  the  forces  which 
build  up  man,  and  what  he  actually  became.  His  predilec- 
tion for  science  and  art  Akbar  had  inherited  from  his 
grandfather  Baber  and  his  father  Humayun.  His  youth, 
which  was  passed  among  dangers  and  privations,  in  flight 
and  in  prison,  was  certainly  not  without  a  beneficial  in- 
fluence upon  Akbar 's  development  into  a  man  of  unusual 
power  and  energy.  And  of  significance  for  his  spiritual 
development  was  the  circumstance  that  after  his  accession 
to  the  throne  his  guardian  put  him  in  the  charge  of  a  most 
excellent  tutor,  the  enlightened  and  liberal  minded  Persian 
Mir  Abdullatif,  who  laid  the  foundation  for  Akbar's  later 
religious  and  ethical  views.  Still,  however  high  we  may 
value  the  influence  of  this  teacher,  the  main  point  lay  in 
Akbar's  own  endowments,  his  susceptibility  for  such  teach- 
ing as  never  before  had  struck  root  with  any  Mohammedan 
prince.  Akbar  had  not  his  equal  in  the  history  of  Islam. 
"He  is  the  only  prince  grown  up  in  the  Mohammedan  creed 
whose  endeavor  it  was  to  ennoble  the  limitation  of  this  most 
separatistic  of  all  religions  into  a  true  religion  of  human- 
ity."4 

Even  the  external  appearance  of  Akbar  appeals  to  us 
sympathetically.  We  sometimes  find  reproduced  a  miniature 
from  Delhi  which  pictures  Akbar  as  seated ;  in  this  the  char- 

4  A.  Muller,  II,  416. 


l66  THE  MONIST. 

acteristic  features  of  the  Mongolian  race  appear  softened 
and  refined  to  a  remarkable  degree. *  The  shape  of  the 
head  is  rather  round,  the  outlines  are  softened,  the  black 
eyes  large,  thoughtful,  almost  dreamy,  and  only  very 
slightly  slanting,  the  brows  full  and  bushy,  the  lips  some- 
what prominent  and  the  nose  a  tiny  bit  hooked.  The  face 
is  beardless  except  for  the  rather  thin  closely  cut  moustache 
which  falls  down  over  the  curve  of  the  mouth  in  soft  waves. 
According  to  the  description  of  his  son,  the  Emperor  Je- 
hangir,  Akbar's  complexion  is  said  to  have  been  the  yellow 
of  wheat;  the  Portuguese  Jesuits  who  came  to  his  court 
called  it  plainly  white.  Although  not  exactly  beautiful, 
Akbar  seemed  beautiful  to  many  of  his  contemporaries, 
including  Europeans,  probably  because  of  the  august  and 
at  the  same  time  kind  and  winsome  expression  which  his 
countenance  bore.  Akbar  was  rather  tall,  broad-shoul- 
dered, strongly  built  and  had  long  arms  and  hands. 

Akbar,  the  son  of  the  dethroned  Emperor  Humayun, 
was  born  on  October  14,  1542,  at  Amarkot  in  Sindh,  two 
years  after  his  father  had  been  deprived  of  his  kingdom 
by  the  usurper  Sher  Chan.  After  an  exile  of  fifteen  years, 
or  rather  after  an  aimless  wandering  and  flight  of  that 
length,  the  indolent  pleasure-  and  opium-loving  Humayun 
was  again  permitted  to  return  to  his  capital  in  1555, — not 
through  his  own  merit  but  that  of  his  energetic  general 
Bairam  Chan,  a  Turk  who  in  one  decisive  battle  had  over- 
come the  Afghans,  at  that  time  in  possession  of  the  domin- 
ion. But  Humayun  was  not  long  to  enjoy  his  regained 
throne;  half  a  year  later  he  fell  do\vn  a  stairway  in  his 
palace  and  died.  In  January  1556  Akbar,  then  thirteen 
years  of  age,  ascended  the  throne.  Because  of  his  youthful 
years  Bairam  Chan  assumed  the  regency  as  guardian  of 
the  realm  or  "prince-father"  as  it  is  expressed  in  Hindi, 
and  guided  the  wavering  ship  of  state  with  a  strong  hand. 

*  Noer,  II  as  frontispiece  (comp.  also  pp.  327,  328)  ;  A.  Muller,  II,  417. 


/ 


AKBAR,  EMPEROR  OF  INDIA. 
From  Noer's  Kaiser  Akbar,  (Frontispiece  to  Vol.  II). 


AKBAR,  EMPEROR  OF  INDIA.  167 

He  overthrew  various  insurgents  and  disposed  of  them 
with  cold  cruelty.  But  after  a  few  years  he  so  aroused  the 
illwill  of  Akbar  by  deeds  of  partiality,  selfishness  and  vio- 
lence that  in  March  1560  Akbar,  then  17  years  of  age,  de- 
cided to  take  the  reins  of  government  into  his  own  hand. 
Deprived  of  his  office  and  influence  Bairam  Chan  hastened 
to  the  Punjab  and  took  arms  against  his  Imperial  Master. 
Akbar  led  his  troops  in  person  against  the  rebel  and  over- 
came him.  When  barefooted,  his  turban  thrown  around 
his  neck,  Bairam  Chan  appeared  before  Akbar  and  pros- 
trated himself  before  the  throne,  Akbar  did  not  do  the 
thing  which  was  customary  under  such  circumstances  in 
the  Orient  in  all  ages.  The  magnanimous  youth  did  not 
sentence  the  humiliated  rebel  to  a  painful  death  but  bade 
him  arise  in  memory  of  the  great  services  which  Bairam 
Chan  had  rendered  to  his  father  and  later  to  himself,  and 
again  assume  his  old  place  of  honor  at  the  right  of  the 
throne.  Before  the  assembled  nobility  he  gave  him  the 
choice  whether  he  would  take  the  governorship  of  a  prov- 
ince, or  would  enjoy  the  favor  of  his  master  at  court  as  a 
benefactor  of  the  imperial  family,  or  whether,  accom- 
panied by  an  escort  befitting  his  rank,  he  would  prefer  to 
undertake  a  pilgrimage  to  Mecca.5  Bairam  Chan  was 
wise  enough  to  choose  the  last,  but  on  the  way  to  Mecca 
he  was  killed  by  an  Afghan  and  the  news  caused  Akbar 
sincere  grief  and  led  him  to  take  the  four  year  old  son  of 
Bairam  Chan  under  his  special  protection. 

Mahum  Anaga,  the  Emperor's  nurse,  for  whom  he 
felt  a  warm  attachment  and  gratitude,  a  woman  revenge- 
ful and  ambitious  but  loyal  and  devoted  to  Akbar,  had  con- 
tributed in  bringing  about  the  fall  of  the  regent.  She  had 
cared  for  the  Emperor  from  his  birth  to  his  accession  and 
amid  the  confusion  of  his  youth  had  guarded  him  from 
danger ;  but  for  this  service  she  expected  her  reward.  She 

5Noer,  I,  131. 


l68  THE  MONIST. 

sought  nothing  less  than  in  the  role  of  an  intimate  con- 
fidante of  the  youthful  Emperor  to  be  secretly  the  actual 
ruler  of  India. 

Mahum  Anaga  had  a  son,  Adham  Chan  by  name,  to 
whom  at  her  suggestion  Akbar  assigned  the  task  of  re- 
conquering and  governing  the  province  of  Malwa.  Adham 
Chan  was  a  passionate  and  violent  man,  as  ambitious 
and  avaricious  as  his  mother,  and  behaved  himself  in 
Malwa  as  if  he  were  an  independent  prince.  As  soon 
as  Akbar  learned  this  he  advanced  by  forced  marches  to 
Malwa  and  surprised  his  disconcerted  foster-brother  be- 
fore the  latter  could  be  warned  by  his  mother.  But  Adham 
Chan  had  no  difficulty  in  obtaining  Akbar's  forgiveness 
for  his  infringements. 

On  the  way  back  to  Agra,  where  the  Emperor  at  that 
time  was  holding  court,  a  noteworthy  incident  happened. 
Akbar  had  ridden  alone  in  advance  of  his  escort  and  sud- 
denly found  himself  face  to  face  with  a  powerful  tigress 
who  with  her  five  cubs  came  out  from  the  shrubbery  across 
his  path.  His  approaching  attendants  found  the  nineteen 
year  old  Emperor  standing  quietly  by  the  side  of  the 
slaughtered  beast  which  he  had  struck  to  the  ground  with 
a  single  blow  of  his  sword.  To  how  much  bodily  strength, 
intrepidity,  cold-blooded  courage  and  sure-sightedness  this 
blow  of  the  sword  testified  which  dared  not  come  the  frac- 
tion of  a  second  too  late,  may  be  judged  by  every  one  who 
has  any  conception  of  the  spring  of  a  raging  tigress  an- 
xious for  the  welfare  of  her  young.  And  we  may  easily 
surmise  the  thoughts  which  the  sight  aroused  in  the  minds 
of  the  Mohammedan  nobles  in  Akbar's  train.  At  that 
moment  many  ambitious  wishes  and  designs  may  have  been 
carried  to  their  grave.6 

The  Emperor  soon  summoned  his  hot-headed  foster- 
brother  Adham  Chan  to  court  in  order  to  keep  him  well 

6Noer,  I,  141. 


AKBAR,  EMPEROR  OF  INDIA.  169 

in  sight  for  he  had  counted  often  enough  on  Akbar's  affec- 
tion for  his  mother  Mahum  Anaga  to  save  him  from  the 
consequences  of  his  sins.  Now  Mahum  Anaga,  her  son  and 
her  adherents,  hated  the  grand  vizier  with  a  deadly  hatred 
because  they  perceived  that  they  were  being  deprived  of 
their  former  influence  in  matters  of  state.  This  hatred  finally 
impelled  Adham  Chan  to  a  senseless  undertaking.  The  em- 
bittered man  hatched  up  a  conspiracy  against  the  grand 
vizier  and  when  one  night  in  the  year  1562  the  latter  was 
attending  a  meeting  of  political  dignitaries  on  affairs  of 
state  in  the  audience  hall  of  the  Imperial  palace,  Adham 
Chan  with  his  conspirators  suddenly  broke  in  and  stabbed 
the  grand  vizier  in  the  breast,  whereupon  his  companions 
slew  the  wounded  man  with  their  swords.  Even  now  the 
deluded  Adham  Chan  counted  still  upon  the  Emperor's 
forbearance  and  upon  the  influence  of  his  mother.  Akbar 
was  aroused  by  the  noise  and  leaving  his  apartments 
learned  what  had  happened.  Adham  Chan  rushed  to  the 
Emperor,  seized  his  arm  and  begged  him  to  listen  to  his 
explanations.  But  the  Emperor  was  beside  himself  with 
rage,  struck  the  murderer  with  his  fist  so  that  he  fell  to 
the  floor  and  commanded  the  terrified  servants  to  bind  him 
with  fetters  and  throw  him  head  over  heals  from  the  ter- 
race of  the  palace  to  the  courtyard  below.  The  horrible 
deed  was  done  but  the  wretch  was  not  dead.  Then  the 
Emperor  commanded  the  shattered  body  of  the  dying  man 
to  be  dragged  up  the  stairs  again  by  the  hair  and  to  be 
flung  once  more  to  the  ground.7 

I  have  related  this  horrible  incident  in  order  to  give 
Akbar's  picture  with  the  utmost  possible  faithfulness  and 
without  idealization.  Akbar  was  a  rough,  strong-nerved 
man,  who  was  seldom  angry  but  whose  wrath  when  once 
aroused  was  fearful.  It  is  a  blemish  on  his  character  that 
in  some  cases  he  permitted  himself  to  be  carried  away  to 

TJ.  T.  Wheeler,  IV,  I,  139,  140;  Noer,  I,  143,  144. 


I/O  THE  MONIST. 

such  cruel  death  sentences,  but  we  must  not  forget  that 
he  was  then  dealing  with  the  punishment  of  particularly 
desperate  criminals,  and  that  such  severe  judgments  had 
always  been  considered  in  the  Orient  to  be  righteous  and 
sensible.  Not  only  in  the  Orient  unfortunately, — even  in 
Europe  200  years  after  Akbar's  time  tortures  and  the  rack 
were  applied  at  the  behest  of  courts  of  law. 

Mahum  Anaga  came  too  late  to  save  her  son.  Akbar 
sought  with  tender  care  to  console  her  for  his  dreadful 
end  but  the  heart-broken  woman  survived  the  fearful  blow 
of  fate  only  about  forty  days.  The  Emperor  caused  her 
body  to  be  buried  with  that  of  her  son  in  one  common  grave 
at  Delhi,  and  he  himself  accompanied  the  funeral  proces- 
sion. At  his  command  a  stately  monument  was  erected 
above  this  grave  which  still  stands  to-day.  His  generosity 
and  clemency  were  also  shown  in  the  fact  that  he  extended 
complete  pardon  to  the  accomplices  in  the  murder  of  the 
grand  vizier  and  even  permitted  them  to  retain  their  of- 
fices and  dignities  because  he  was  convinced  that  they  had 
been  drawn  into  the  crime  by  the  violent  Adham  Chan. 
In  other  ways  too  Akbar  showed  himself  to  be  ready  to 
grant  pardon  to  an  almost  incomprehensible  extent.  Again 
and  again  when  an  insubordinate  viceroy  in  the  provinces 
would  surrender  after  an  unsuccessful  uprising  Akbar 
would  let  him  off  without  any  penalty,  thus  giving  him  the 
opportunity  of  revolting  again  after  a  short  time. 

It  was  an  eventful  time  in  which  Akbar  arrived  at 
manhood  in  the  midst  of  all  sorts  of  personal  dangers. 

I  will  pass  over  with  but  few  comments  his  military  ex- 
peditions which  can  have  no  interest  for  the  general  public. 
When  Akbar  ascended  the  throne  his  realm  comprised  only 
a  very  small  portion  of  the  possessions  which  had  been  sub- 
ject to  his  predecessors.  With  the  energy  which  was  a 
fundamental  characteristic  of  his  nature  he  once  more  took 
possession  of  the  provinces  which  had  been  torn  from  the 


AKBAR,  EMPEROR  OF  INDIA. 

empire,  at  the  same  time  undertaking  the  conquest  of  new 
lands,  and  accomplished  this  task  with  such  good  fortune 
that  in  the  fortieth  year  of  his  reign  the  empire  of  India 
covered  more  territory  than  ever  before ;  that  is  to  say,  not 
only  the  whole  of  Hindustan  including  the  peninsula  Gu- 
jerat,  the  lands  of  the  Indus  and  Kashmir  but  also  Af- 
ghanistan and  a  larger  part  of  the  Dekkhan  than  had  ever 
been  subject  to  any  former  Padishah  of  Delhi.  At  this  time 
while  the  Emperor  had  his  residence  at  Lahore  the  phrase 
was  current  in  India,  "As  lucky  as  Akbar."* 

It  was  apparent  often  enough  in  the  military  expedi- 
tions that  Akbar  far  surpassed  his  contemporaries  in  gen- 
eralship. But  it  was  not  the  love  of  war  and  conquest 
which  drove  him  each  time  anew  to  battle ;  a  sincere  desire 
inspired  by  a  mystical  spirit  impelled  him  to  bring  to  an 
end  the  ceaseless  strife  between  the  small  states  of  India 
by  joining  them  to  his  realm,  and  thus  to  found  a  great 
united  empire.9 

More  worthy  of  admiration  than  the  subjugation  of 
such  large  territories  in  which  of  course  many  others  have 
also  been  successful,  is  the  fact  that  Akbar  succeeded  in 
establishing  order,  peace,  and  prosperity  in  the  regained 
and  newly  subjugated  provinces.  This  he  brought  about 
by  the  introduction  of  a  model  administration,  an  excellent 
police,  a  regulated  post  service,  and  especially  a  just  divi- 
sion of  taxes.10  Up  to  Akbar 's  time  corruption  had  been 
n  matter  of  course  in  the  entire  official  service  and  enormous 
sums  in  the  treasury  were  lost  by  peculation  on  the  part  of 
tax  collectors. 

Akbar  first  divided  the  whole  realm  into  twelve  and 
later  into  fifteen  viceregencies,  and  these  into  provinces, 
administrative  districts  and  lesser  subdivisions,  and  gov- 

8J.  T.  Wheeler,  IV,  I,  180. 
8  Noer,  II,  8,  390,  423. 

10  For  the  following  compare  Noer  I,  391  ff. ;  M.  Elphinstone,  529  ff. ;  G. 
B.  Malleson,  172  ff.,  185  ff. 


172  THE  MONIST. 

erned  the  revenues  of  the  empire  on  the  basis  of  a  uni- 
formly exact  survey  of  the  land.  He  introduced  a  standard 
of  measurement,  replacing  the  hitherto  customary  land 
measure  (a  leather  strap  which  was  easily  lengthened  or 
shortened  according  to  the  need  of  the  measuring  officer) 
by  a  new  instrument  of  measurement  in  the  form  of  a 
bamboo  staff  which  was  provided  with  iron  rings  at  defi- 
nite intervals.  For  purposes  of  assessment  land  was  di- 
vided into  four  classes  according  to  the  kind  of  cultivation 
practiced  upon  it.  The  first  class  comprised  arable  land 
with  a  constant  rotation  of  crops;  the  second,  that  which 
had  to  lie  fallow  for  from  one  to  two  years  in  order  to  be 
productive ;  the  third  from  three  to  four  years ;  the  fourth 
that  land  which  was  uncultivated  for  five  years  and  longer 
or  was  not  arable  at  all.  The  first  two  classes  of  acreage 
were  taxed  one-third  of  the  crop,  which  according  to  our 
present  ideas  seems  an  exorbitantly  high  rate,  and  it  was 
left  to  the  one  assessed  whether  he  would  pay  the  tax  in 
kind  or  in  cash.  Only  in  the  case  of  luxuries  or  manu- 
factured articles,  that  is  to  say,  where  the  use  of  a  circu- 
lating medium  could  be  assumed,  was  cash  payment  re- 
quired. Whoever  cultivated  unreclaimed  land  was  assisted 
by  the  government  by  the  grant  of  a  free  supply  of  seed 
and  by  a  considerable  reduction  in  his  taxes  for  the  first 
four  years. 

Akbar  also  introduced  a  new  uniform  standard  of  coin- 
age, but  stipulated  that  the  older  coins  which  were  still 
current  should  be  accepted  from  peasants  for  their  full  face 
value.  From  all  this  the  Indian  peasants  could  see  that 
Emperor  Akbar  not  only  desired  strict  justice  to  rule  but 
also  wished  to  further  their  interests,  and  the  peasants  had 
always  comprised  the  greatest  part  of  the  inhabitants, 
(even  according  to  the  latest  census  in  1903,  vol.  I,  p.  3,  50 
to  84  percent  of  the  inhabitants  of  India  live  by  agricul- 
ture). But  Akbar  succeeded  best  in  winning  the  hearts 


AKBAR,  EMPEROR  OF  INDIA.  173 

of  the  native  inhabitants  by  lifting  the  hated  poll  tax  which 
still  existed  side  by  side  with  all  other  taxes. 

The  founder  of  Islam  had  given  the  philanthropical 
command  to  exterminate  from  the  face  of  the  earth  all  fol- 
lowers of  other  faiths  who  were  not  converted  to  Islam, 
but  he  had  already  convinced  himself  that  it  was  im- 
possible to  execute  this  law.  And,  indeed,  if  the  Moham- 
medans had  followed  out  this  precept,  how  would  they  have 
been  able  to  overthrow  land  upon  land  and  finally  even 
thickly  populated  India  where  the  so-called  unbelievers 
comprised  an  overwhelming  majority?  Therefore  in  place 
of  complete  extermination  the  more  practical  arrangement 
of  the  poll  tax  was  instituted,  and  this  was  to  be  paid  by  all 
unbelievers  in  order  to  be  a  constant  reminder  to  them 
of  the  loss  of  their  independence.  This  humiliating  burden 
which  was  still  executed  in  the  strictest,  most  inconsiderate 
manner,  Akbar  removed  in  the  year  1565  without  regard 
to  the.  very  considerable  loss  to  the  state's  treasury.  Nine 
years  later  followed  the  removal  of  the  tax  upon  religious 
assemblies  and  pilgrimages,  the  execution  of  which  had 
likewise  kept  the  Hindus  in  constant  bitterness  towards 
their  Mohammedan  rulers. 

Sometime  previous  to  these  reforms  Akbar  had  abol- 
ished a  custom  so  disgusting  that  we  can  hardly  compre- 
hend that  it  ever  could  have  legally  existed.  At  any  rate 
it  alone  is  sufficient  to  brand  Islam  and  its  supreme  con- 
tempt for  followers  of  other  faiths,  with  one  of  the  greatest 
stains  in  the  history  of  humanity.  When  a  tax-collector 
gathered  the  taxes  of  the  Hindus  and  the  payment  had 
been  made,  the  Hindu  was  required  "without  the  slightest 
sign  of  fear  of  defilement"  to  open  his  mouth  in  order  that 
the  tax  collector  might  spit  in  it  if  he  wished  to  do  so.11 
This  was  much  more  than  a  disgusting  humiliation.  When 
the  tax-collector  availed  himself  of  this  privilege  the  Hindu 

uNoer,  II,  6,  7;  G.  B.  Malleson,  174,  175. 


174  THE   MONIST. 

lost  thereby  his  greatest  possession,  his  caste,  and  was 
shut  out  from  any  intercourse  with  his  equals.  Accord- 
ingly he  was  compelled  to  pass  his  whole  life  trembling  in 
terror  before  this  horrible  evil  which  threatened  him.  That 
a  man  of  Akbar's  nobility  of  character  should  remove  such 
an  atrocious,  yes  devilish,  decree  seems  to  us  a  matter  of 
course ;  but  for  the  Hindus  it  was  an  enormous  beneficence. 

Akbar  sought  also  to  advance  trade  and  commerce  in 
every  possible  way.  He  regulated  the  harbor  and  toll 
duties,  removed  the  oppressive  taxes  on  cattle,  trees,  grain 
and  other  produce  as  well  as  the  customary  fees  of  subjects 
at  every  possible  appointment  or  office.  In  the  year  1574 
it  was  decreed  that  the  loss  which  agriculture  suffered  by 
the  passage  of  royal  troops  through  the  fields  should  be 
carefully  calculated  and  scrupulously  replaced. 

Besides  these  practical  regulations  for  the  advancement 
of  the  material  welfare,  Akbar's  efforts  for  the  ethical 
uplift  of  his  subjects  are  noteworthy.  Drunkenness  and 
debauchery  were  punished  and  he  sought  to  restrain  pros- 
titution by  confining  dancing  girls  and  abandoned  women 
in  one  quarter  set  apart  for  them  outside  of  his  residence 
wThich  received  the  name  Shaitanpura  or  "Devil's  City."12 

The  existing  corruption  in  the  finance  and  customs  de- 
partment was  abolished  by  means  of  a  complicated  and 
punctilious  system  of  supervision  (the  bureaus  of  receipts 
and  expenditures  were  kept  entirely  separated  from  each 
other  in  the  treasury  department,)  and  Akbar  himself  care- 
fully examined  the  accounts  handed  in  each  month  from 
every  district,  just  as  he  gave  his  personal  attention  with 
tireless  industry  and  painstaking  care  to  every  detail  in 
the  widely  ramified  domain  of  the  administration  of  gov- 
ernment. Moreover  the  Emperor  was  fortunate  in  having 
at  the  head  of  the  finance  department  a  prudent,  energetic, 
perfectly  honorable  and  incorruptible  man,  the  Hindu  To- 

12  J.  T.  Wheeler,  IV,  I,  173;  Noer,  I,  438  n. 


AKBAR,  EMPEROR  OF  INDIA.  175 

dar  Mai,  who  without  possessing  the  title  of  vizier  or  min- 
ister of  state  had  assumed  all  the  functions  of  such  an 
office. 

It  is  easily  understood  that  many  of  the  higher  tax 
officials  did  not  grasp  the  sudden  break  of  a  new  day  but 
continued  to  oppress  and  impoverish  the  peasants  in  the 
traditional  way,  but  the  system  established  by  Akbar  suc- 
ceeded admirably  and  soon  brought  all  such  transgressions 
to  light.  Todar  Mai  held  a  firm  rein,  and  by  throwing 
hundreds  of  these  faithless  officers  into  prison  and  by  mak- 
ing ample  use  of  bastinado  and  torture,  spread  abroad  such 
a  wholesome  terror  that  Akbar's  reforms  were  soon  vic- 
torious. 

How  essential  it  was  to  exercise  the  strictest  control 
over  men  occupying  the  highest  positions  may  be  seen  by 
the  example  of  the  feudal  nobility  whose  members  bore  the 
title  "Jagirdar."  Such  a  Jagirdar  had  to  provide  a  contin- 
gent of  men  and  horses  for  the  imperial  army  correspond- 
ing to  the  size  of  the  estate  which  was  given  him  in  fief. 
Now  it  had  been  a  universal  custom  for  the  Jagirdars  to 
provide  themselves  with  fewer  soldiers  and  horses  on  a 
military  expedition  than  at  the  regular  muster.  Then  too 
the  men  and  horses  often  proved  useless  for  severe  service. 
When  the  reserves  were  mustered  the  knights  dressed  up 
harmless  private  citizens  as  soldiers  or  hired  them  for  the 
occasion  and  after  the  muster  was  over,  let  them  go  again. 
In  the  same  way  the  horses  brought  forward  for  the  muster 
were  taken  back  into  private  service  immediately  after- 
wards and  were  replaced  by  worthless  animals  for  the  im- 
perial service.  This  evil  too  was  abolished  at  one  stroke, 
by  taking  an  exact  personal  description  of  the  soldiers  pre- 
sented and  by  branding  the  heads  of  horses,  elephants  and 
camels  writh  certain  marks.  By  this  simple  expedient  it 
became  impossible  to  exchange  men  and  animals  presented 


176  THE  MONIST. 

at  the  muster  for  worthless  material  and  also  to  loan  them 
to  other  knights  during  muster. 

The  number  of  men  able  to  bear  arms  in  Akbar's  realm 
has  been  given  as  about  four  and  a  half  millions  but  the 
standing  army  which  was  held  at  the  expense  of  the  state 
was  small  in  proportion.  It  contained  only  about  twenty- 
five  thousand  men,  one-half  of  whom  comprised  the  cavalry 
and  the  rest  musketry  and  artillery.  Since  India  does  not 
produce  first  class  horses,  Akbar  at  once  provided  for  the 
importation  of  noble  steeds  from  other  lands  of  the  Orient 
which  were  famed  for  horse  breeding  and  was  accustomed 
to  pay  more  for  such  animals  than  the  price  which  was 
demanded.  In  the  same  way  no  expense  was  too  great  for 
him  to  spend  on  the  breeding  and  nurture  of  elephants,  for 
they  were  very  valuable  animals  for  the  warfare  of  that  day. 
His  stables  contained  from  five  to  six  thousand  well-trained 
elephants.  The  breeding  of  camels  and  mules  he  also  ad- 
vanced with  a  practical  foresight  and  understood  how  to 
overcome  the  widespread  prejudice  in  India  against  the 
use  of  mules. 

Untiringly  did  Akbar  inspect  stables,  arsenals,  military 
armories,  and  shipyards,  and  insisted  on  perfect  order  in 
all  departments.  He  called  the  encouragement  of  seaman- 
ship an  act  of  worship13  but  was  not  able  to  make  India 
a  maritime  power. 

Akbar  had  an  especial  interest  in  artillery,  and  with  it 
a  particular  gift  for  the  technique  and  great  skill  in  mech- 
anical matters.  "He  invented  a  cannon  which  could  be 
taken  apart  to  be  carried  more  easily  on  the  march  and  could 
be  put  up  quickly,  apparently  for  use  in  mountain  batteries. 
By  another  invention  he  united  seventeen  cannons  in  such 
a  way  that  they  could  be  shot  ofif  simultaneously  by  one 
fuse.14  Hence  it  is  probably  a  sort  of  mitrailleuse.  Akbar 

13  Noer,  II,  378. 

w  Noer,  I,  429.  The  second  invention,  however,  is  questioned  by  Buchwald 
(II,  372)  because  of  the  so-called  "organ  cannons"  which  were  in  use  in 
Europe  as  early  as  the  i$th  century. 


AKBAR,  EMPEROR  OF  INDIA.  177 

is  also  said  to  have  invented  a  mill  cart  which  served  as  a 
mill  as  well  as  for  carrying  freight.  With  regard  to  these 
inventions  we  must  take  into  consideration  the  possibility 
that  the  real  inventor  may  have  been  some  one  else,  but  that 
the  flatterers  at  the  court  ascribed  them  to  the  Emperor  be- 
cause the  initiative  may  have  originated  with  him. 

The  details  which  I  have  given  will  suffice  to  show 
what  perfection  the  military  and  civil  administration  at- 
tained through  Akbar's  efforts.  Throughout  his  empire 
order  and  justice  reigned  and  a  prosperity  hitherto  un- 
known. Although  taxes  were  never  less  oppressive  in 
India  than  under  Akbar's  reign,  the  imperial  income  for 
one  year  amounted  to  more  than  $120,000,000,  a  sum  at 
which  contemporary  Europe  marveled,  and  which  we  must 
consider  in  the  light  of  the  much  greater  purchasing  power 
of  money  in  the  sixteenth  century.15  A  large  part  of  Ak- 
bar's income  was  used  in  the  erection  of  benevolent  insti- 
tutions, of  inns  along  country  "roads  in  which  travelers 
were  entertained  at  the  imperial  expense,  in  the  support 
of  the  poor,  in  gifts  for  pilgrims,  in  granting  loans  whose 
payment  was  never  demanded,  and  many  similar  ways.  To 
his  encouragement  of  schools,  of  literature,  art  and  science 
I  will  refer  later. 

Of  decided  significance  for  Akbar's  success  was  his 
patronage  of  the  native  population.  He  did  not  limit  his 
efforts  to  lightening  the  lot  of  the  subjugated  Hindus  and 
relieving  them  of  oppressive  burdens;  his  efforts  went 
deeper.  He  wished  to  educate  the  Mohammedans  and 
Hindus  to  a  feeling  of  mutual  good-will  and  confidence, 
and  in  doing  so  he  was  obliged  to  contend  in  the  one  case 
against  haughtiness  and  inordinate  ambition,  and  in  the 
other  against  hate  and  distrustful  reserve.  If  with  this 
end  in  view  he  actually  favored  the  Hindus  by  keeping 
certain  ones  close  to  him  and  advancing  them  to  the  most 

15  Noer,  I,  439. 


178  THE  MONIST. 

influential  positions  in  the  state,  he  did  it  because  he  found 
characteristics  in  the  Hindus  (especially  in  their  noblest 
race,  the  Rajputs)  which  seemed  to  him  most  valuable  for 
the  stability  of  the  empire  and  for  the  promotion  of  the 
general  welfare.  He  had  seen  enough  faithlessness  in  the 
Mohammedan  nobles  and  in  his  own  relatives.  Besides, 
Akbar  was  born  in  the  house  of  a  small  Rajput  prince  who 
had  shown  hospitality  to  Akbar's  parents  on  their  flight 
and  had  given  them  his  protection. 

The  Rajputs  are  the  descendants  of  the  ancient  Indian 
warrior  race  and  are  a  brave,  chivalrous,  trustworthy  people 
who  possess  a  love  of  freedom  and  pride  of  race  quite  differ- 
ent in  character  from  the  rest  of  the  Hindus.  Even  to-day 
every  traveler  in  India  thinks  he  has  been  set  down  in  an- 
other world  when  he  treads  the  ground  of  Rajputana  and 
sees  around  him  in  place  of  the  weak  effeminate  servile  in- 
habitants of  other  parts  of  the  country  powerful  upright 
men,  splendid  warlike  figures  with  blazing  defiant  eyes  and 
long  waving  beards. 

While  Akbar  valued  the  Rajputs  very  highly  his  own 
personality  was  entirely  fitted  to  please  these  proud  manly 
warriors.  An  incident  which  took  place  before  the  end 
of  the  first  year  of  Akbar's  reign  is  characteristic  of  the 
relations  which  existed  on  the  basis  of  this  intrinsic  rela- 
tionship.16 

Bihari  Mai  was  a  prince  of  the  small  Rajput  state  Am- 
bir,  and  possessed  sufficient  political  comprehension  to 
understand  after  Akbar's  first  great  successes  that  his 
own  insignificant  power  and  the  nearness  of  Delhi  made  it 
advisable  to  voluntarily  recognize  the  Emperor  as  his  liege 
lord.  Therefore  he  came  with  son,  grandson  and  retainers 
to  swear  allegiance  to  Akbar.  Upon  his  arrival  at  the  im- 
perial camp  before  Delhi,  a  most  surprising  sight  met  his 
eyes.  Men  were  running  in  every  direction,  fleeing  wildly 

16  Noer,  I,  224-2261 


AKBAR,  EMPEROR  OF  INDIA.  179 

before  a  raging  elephant  who  wrought  destruction  to 
everything  that  came  within  his  reach.  Upon  the  neck  of 
this  enraged  brute  sat  a  young  man  in  perfect  calmness 
belaboring  the  animal's  head  with  the  iron  prong  which 
is  used  universally  in  India  for  guiding  elephants.  The 
Rajputs  sprang  from  their  horses  and  came  up  perfectly 
unconcerned  to  observe  the  interesting  spectacle,  and  broke 
out  in  loud  applause  when  the  conquered  elephant  knelt 
down  in  exhaustion.  The  young  man  sprang  from  its 
back  and  cordially  greeted  the  Rajput  princes  (who  now 
for  the  first  time  recognized  Akbar  in  the  elephant-  tamer) 
bidding  them  welcome  to  his  red  imperial  tent.  From  this 
occurrence  dates  the  friendship  of  the  two  men.  In  later 
years  Bihari  Mai's  son  and  grandson  occupied  high  places 
in  the  imperial  service,  and  Akbar  married  a  daughter  of 
the  Rajput  chief  who  became  the  mother  of  his  son  and 
successor  Selim,  afterwards  the  Emperor  Jehangir.  Later 
on  Akbar  received  a  number  of  other  Rajput  women  in  his 
harem. 

Not  all  of  Akbar's  relations  to  the  Rajputs  however 
were  of  such  a  friendly  kind.  As  his  grandfather  Baber 
before  him,  he  had  many  bitter  battles  with  them,  for  no 
other  Indian  people  had  opposed  him  so  vigorously  as  they. 
Their  domain  blocked  the  way  to  the  south,  and  from  their 
rugged  mountains  and  strongly  fortified  cities  the  Rajputs 
harassed  the  surrounding  country  by  many  invasions  and 
destroyed  order,  commerce  and  communication  quite  after 
the  manner  of  the  German  robber  barons  of  the  Middle 
Ages.  Their  overthrow  was  accordingly  a  public  neces- 
sity. 

The  most  powerful  of  these  Rajput  chiefs  was  the 
Prince  of  Mewar  who  had  particularly  attracted  the  at- 
tention of  the  Emperor  by  his  support  of  the  rebels.  The 
control  of  Mewar  rested  upon  the  possession  of  the  fortress 
Chitor  which  was  built  on  a  monstrous  cliff  one  hundred 


l8o  THE  MONIST. 

and  twenty  meters  high,  rising  abruptly  from  the  plain 
and  was  equipped  with  every  means  of  defence  that  could 
be  contrived  by  the  military  skill  of  that  time  for  an  incom- 
parably strong  bulwark.  On  the  plain  at  its  summit  which 
measured  over  twelve  kilometers  in  circumference  a  city 
well  supplied  with  water  lay  within  the  fortification  walls. 
There  an  experienced  general,  Jaymal,  "the  Lion  of  Chi- 
tor," was  in  command.  I  have  not  time  to  relate  the  partic- 
ulars of  the  siege,  the  laying  of  ditches  and  mines  and  the 
uninterrupted  battles  which  preceded  the  fall  of  Chitor  in 
February,  1568.  According  to  Akbar's  usual  custom  he 
exposed  himself  to  showers  of  bullets  without  once  being 
hit  (the  superstition  of  his  soldiers  considered  him  invul- 
nerable) and  finally  the  critical  shot  was  one  in  which  Ak- 
bar  with  his  own  hand  laid  low  the  brave  commander  of 
Chitor.  Then  the  defenders  considered  their  cause  lost, 
and  the  next  night  saw  a  barbarous  sight,  peculiarly  Indian 
in  character:  the  so-called  Jauhar  demanded  his  offering 
according  to  an  old  Rajput  custom.  Many  great  fires 
gleamed  weirdly  in  the  fortress.  To  escape  imprisonment 
and  to  save  their  honor  from  the  horrors  of  captivity,  the 
women  mounted  the  solemnly  arranged  funeral  pyres, 
while  all  the  men,  clad  in  saffron  hued  garments,  conse- 
cated  themselves  to  death.  When  the  victors  entered  the 
city  on  the  next  morning  a  battle  began  which  raged 
until  the  third  evening,  when  there  was  no  one  left  to  kill. 
Eight  thousand  warriors  had  fallen,  besides  thirty  thou- 
sand inhabitants  of  Chitor  who  had  participated  in  the 
fight. 

With  the  conquest  of  Chitor  which  I  have  treated  at 
considerable  length  because  it  ended  in  a  typically  Indian 
manner,  the  resistance  of  the  Rajputs  broke  down.  After 
Akbar  had  attained  his  purpose  he  was  on  the  friendliest 
terms  with  the  vanquished.  It  testifies  to  his  nobility  of 
character  as  well  as  to  his  political  wisdom  that  after  this 


AKBAR,  EMPEROR  OF  INDIA.  iSl 

complete  success  he  not  only  did  not  celebrate  a  triumph, 
but  on  the  contrary  proclaimed  the  renown  of  the  van- 
quished throughout  all  India  by  erecting  before  the  gate 
of  the  imperial  palace  at  Delhi  two  immense  stone  ele- 
phants with  the  statues  of  Jaymal,  the  "Lion  of  Chitor," 
and  of  the  noble  youth  Pata  who  had  performed  the  most 
heroic  deeds  in  the  defense  of  Chitor.  By  thus  honoring 
his  conquered  foes  in  such  a  magnanimous  manner  Akbar 
found  the  right  way  to  the  heart  of  the  Rajputs.  By  con- 
stant bestowal  of  favors  he  gradually  succeeded  in  so  rec- 
onciling the  noble  Rajputs  to  the  loss  of  their  independence 
that  they  were  finally  glad  and  proud  to  devote  themselves 
to  his  service,  and,  under  the  leadership  of  their  own 
princes,  proved  themselves  to  be  the  best  and  truest  soldiers 
of  the  imperial  army,  even  far  from  their  home  in  the  far- 
thest limits  of  the  realm. 

The  great  masses  of  the  Hindu  people  Akbar  won  over 
by  lowering  the  taxes  as  we  have  previously  related,  and  by 
all  the  other  successful  expedients  for  the  prosperity  of  the 
country,  but  especially  by  the  concession  of  perfect  liberty 
of  faith  and  worship  and  by  the  benevolent  interest  with 
which  he  regarded  the  religious  practices  of  the  Hindus. 
A  people  in  whom  religion  is  the  ruling  motive  of  life,  after 
enduring  all  the  dreadful  sufferings  of  previous  centuries 
for  its  religion's  sake,  must  have  been  brought  to  a  state 
of  boundless  reverence  by  Akbar's  attitude.  And  since  the 
Hindus  wrere  accustomed  to  look  upon  the  great  heroes  and 
benefactors  of  humanity  as  incarnations  of  deity  we  shall 
not  be  surprised  to  read  from  an  author  of  that  time17 
that  every  morning  before  sunrise  great  numbers  of  Hin- 
dus crowded  together  in  front  of  the  palace  to  await  the 
appearance  of  Akbar  and  to  prostrate  themselves  as  soon 
as  he  was  seen  at  a  window,  at  the  same  time  singing 
religious  hymns.  This  fanatical  enthusiasm  of  the  Hindus 

17  Badaoni  in  Noer,  II,  320. 


l82  THE  MONIST. 

for  his  person  Akbar  knew  how  to  retain  not  only  by  actual 
benefits  but  also  by  small,  well  calculated  devices. 

It  is  a  familiar  fact  that  the  Hindus  considered  the 
Ganges  to  be  a  holy  river  and  that  cows  were  sacred  ani- 
mals. Accordingly  we  can  easily  understand  Akbar's  pur- 
pose when  we  learn  that  at  every  meal  he  drank  regularly 
of  water  from  the  Ganges  (carefully  filtered  and  purified 
to  be  sure)  calling  it  "the  water  of  immortality,"18  and 
that  later  he  forbade  the  slaughtering  of  cattle  and  eating 
their  flesh.19  But  Akbar  did  not  go  so  far  in  his  connivance 
with  the  Hindus  that  he  considered  all  their  customs  good 
or  took  them  under  his  protection.  For  instance  he  forbade 
child  marriages  among  the  Hindus,  that  is  to  say  the  mar- 
riage of  boys  under  sixteen  and  of  girls  under  fourteen 
years,  and  he  permitted  the  remarriage  of  widows.  The 
barbaric  customs  of  Brahmanism  were  repugnant  to  his 
very  soul.  He  therefore  most  strictly  forbade  the  slaught- 
ering of  animals  for  purposes  of  sacrifice,  the  use  of  ordeals 
for  the  execution  of  justice,  and  the  burning  of  widows 
against  their  will,  which  indeed  was  not  established  accord- 
ing to  Brahman  law  but  was  constantly  practiced  according 
to  traditional  custom.20  To  be  sure  neither  Akbar  nor  his 
successor  Jehangir  were  permanently  successful  in  their 
efforts  to  put  an  end  to  the  burning  of  widows.  Not  until 
the  year  1829  was  the  horrible  custom  practically  done 
away  with  through  the  efforts  of  the  English. 

Throughout  his  entire  life  Akbar  was  a  tirelessly  in- 
dustrious, restlessly  active  man.  By  means  of  ceaseless 
activity  he  struggled  successfully  against  his  natural  tend- 
ency to  melancholy  and  in  this  way  kept  his  mind  whole- 
some, which  is  most  deserving  of  admiration  in  an  Oriental 
monarch  who  was  brought  in  contact  day  by  day  with  im- 
moderate flattery  and  idolatrous  veneration.  Well  did 

18Noer,  II,  317,  3i8.  "Ibid.,  376,  3i7- 

20  J.  T.  Wheeler,  IV,  I,  173;  M.  Elphinstone,  526;  G.  B.  Malleson,  176. 


AKBAR,  EMPEROR  OF  INDIA.  183 

Akbar  know  that  no  Oriental  nation  can  be  governed  with- 
out a  display  of  dazzling-  splendor ;  but  in  the  midst  of  the 
fabulous  luxury  with  which  Akbar's  court  was  fitted  out 
and  his  camp  on  the  march,  in  the  possession  of  an  incom- 
parably rich  harem  which  accompanied  the  Emperor  on  his 
expeditions  and  journeys  in  large  palatial  tents,  Akbar 
always  showed  a  remarkable  moderation.  It  is  true  that 
he  abolished  the  prohibition  of  wine  which  Islam  had  in- 
augurated and  had  a  court  cellar  in  his  palace,  but  he  him- 
self drank  only  a  little  wine  and  only  ate  once  a  day  and 
then  did  not  fully  satisfy  his  hunger  at  this  one  meal  which 
he  ate  alone  and  not  at  any  definite  time.21  Though  he 
was  not  strictly  a  vegetarian  yet  he  lived  mainly  on  rice, 
milk,  fruits  and  sweets,  and  meat  was  repulsive  to  him. 
He  is  said  to  have  eaten  meat  hardly  more  than  four  times 
a  year.22 

Akbar  was  very  fond  of  flowers  and  perfumes  and 
especially  enjoyed  blooded  doves  whose  care  he  well  under- 
stood. About  twenty  thousand  of  these  peaceful  birds  are 
said  to  have  made  their  home  on  the  battlements  of  his 
palace.  His  historian23  relates:  "His  Majesty  deigned  to 
improve  them  in  a  marvelous  manner  by  crossing  the  races 
which  had  not  been  done  formerly." 

Akbar  was  passionately  fond  of  hunting  and  pursued 
the  noble  sport  in  its  different  forms,  especially  the  tiger 
hunt  and  the  trapping  of  wild  elephants,24  but  he  also 
hunted  with  trained  falcons  and  leopards,  owning  no  less 
than  nine  hundred  hunting  leopards.  He  was  not  fond  of 
battue;  he  enjoyed  the  excitement  and  exertion  of  the 
actual  hunt  as  a  means  for  exercise  and  recreation,  for 
training  the  eye  and  quickening  the  blood.  Akbar  took  pleas- 

21  Noer,  II,  355. 

22  J.  T.  Wheeler,  IV,  I,  169,  following  the  old  English  geographer  Samuel 
Purchas. 

23  AJbul  Fazl  in  Noer,  I,  511. 

24  M.  Elphinstone,  519. 


184  THE  MONIST. 

ure  also  in  games.  Besides  chess,  cards  and  other  games 
fights  between  animals  may  especially  be  mentioned,  of 
which  elephant  fights  were  the  most  common,  but  there 
were  also  contests  between  camels,  buffaloes,  cocks,  and 
even  frogs,  sparrows  and  spiders. 

Usually,  however,  the  whole  day  was  filled  up  from  the 
first  break  of  dawn  for  Akbar  with  affairs  of  government 
and  audiences,  for  every  one  who  had  a  request  or  a 
grievance  to  bring  forward  could  have  access  to  Akbar, 
and  he  showed  the  same  interest  in  the  smallest  incidents 
as  in  the  greatest  affairs  of  state.  He  also  held  courts  of 
justice  wherever  he  happened  to  be  residing.  No  criminal 
could  be  punished  there  without  his  knowledge  and  no 
sentence  of  death  executed  until  Akbar  had  given  the  com- 
mand three  times.25 

Not  until  after  sunset  did  the  Emperor's  time  of  recrea- 
tion begin.  Since  he  only  required  three  hours  of  sleep26 
he  devoted  most  of  the  night  to  literary,  artistic  and  scien- 
tific occupations.  Especially  poetry  and  music  delighted 
his  heart.  He  collected  a  large  library  in  his  palace  and 
drew  the  most  famous  scholars  and  poets  to  his  court.  The 
most  important  of  these  were  the  brothers  Abul  Faiz  (with 
the  nom  de  plume  Faizi)  and  Abul  Fazl  who  have  made 
Akbar's  fame  known  to  the  whole  world  through  their 
works.  The  former  at  Akbar's  behest  translated  a  series 
of  Sanskrit  works  into  Persian,  and  Abul  Fazl,  the  highly 
gifted  minister  and  historian  of  Akbar's  court  (who  to 
be  sure  can  not  be  exonerated  from  the  charge  of  flattery) 
likewise  composed  in  the  Persian  language  a  large  his- 
torical work  written  in  the  most  flowery  style  which  is  the 
main  source  of  our  knowledge  of  that  period.  This  famous 
work  is  divided  in  two  parts,  the  first  one  of  which  under 
the  title  Akbarname,  "Akbar  Book,"  contains  the  complete 

25  J.  T.  Wheeler,  IV,  I,  168. 
*Loc.  cit.f  169. 


AKBAR,  EMPEROR  OF  INDIA.  185 

history  of  Akbar's  reign,  whereas  the  second  part,  the  Am 
i  Akbari,  "The  Institutions  of  Akbar,"  gives  a  presentation 
of  the  political  and  religious  constitution  and  administra- 
tion of  India  under  Akbar's  reign.  It  is  also  deserving  of 
mention  in  this  connection  that  Akbar  instituted  a  board 
for  contemporary  chronicles,  whose  duty  it  was  to  compose 
the  official  record  of  all  events  relating  to  the  Emperor  and 
the  government  as  well  as  to  collect  all  laws  and  decrees.27 

When  Akbar's  recreation  hours  had  come  in  the  night 
the  poets  of  his  court  brought  their  verses.  Transla- 
tions of  famous  works  in  Sanskrit  literature,  of  the  New 
Testament  and  of  other  interesting  books  were  read  aloud, 
all  of  which  captivated  the  vivacious  mind  of  the  Emperor 
from  which  nothing  was  farther  removed  than  onesided- 
ness  and  narrow-mindedness.  Akbar  had  also  a  discrimi- 
nating appreciation  for  art  and  industries.  He  himself 
designed  the  plans  for  some  extremely  beautiful  cande- 
labra, and  the  manufacture  of  tapestry  reached  such  a  state 
of  perfection  in  India  under  his  personal  supervision  that 
in  those  days  fabrics  were  produced  in  the  great  imperial 
factories  which  in  beauty  and  value  excelled  the  famous 
rugs  of  Persia.  With  still  more  important  results  Akbar  in- 
fluenced the  realm  of  architecture  in  that  he  discovered 
how  to  combine  two  completely  different  styles.  For  in- 
deed, "the  union  of  Mohammedan  and  Indian  motives 
in  the  buildings  of  Akbar  (who  here  as  in  all  other  de- 
partments strove  to  perfect  the  complete  elevation  of  na- 
tional and  religious  details)  to  form  an  improved  third 
style/'28  is  entirely  original. 

Among  other  ways  Akbar  betrayed  the  scientific  trend 
of  his  mind  by  sending  out  an  expedition  in  search  of  the 
sources  of  the  Ganges.29  That  a  man  of  such  a  wonderful 


27  Noer,  I,  432,  433. 

28  A.  Miiller,  II,  386. 


J.  T.  Wheeler,  IV,  I,  174. 


l86  THE  MONIST. 

degree  of  versatility  should  have  recognized  the  value  of 
general  education  and  have  devoted  himself  to  its  improve- 
ment, we  would  simply  take  for  granted.  Akbar  caused 
schools  to  be  erected  throughout  his  whole  kingdom  for 
the  children  of  Hindus  and  Mohammedans,  whereas  he 
himself  did  not  know  how  to  read  or  write.30  This  re- 
markable fact  would  seem  incredible  to  us  after  considering 
all  the  above  mentioned  facts  if  it  was  not  confirmed  by  the 
express  testimony  of  his  son,  the  Emperor  Jehangir.  At 
any  rate  for  an  illiterate  man  Akbar  certainly  accomplished 
an  astonishing  amount.  The  universal  character  of  the 
endowments  of  this  man  could  not  have  been  increased  by 
the  learning  of  the  schools. 

I  have  now  come  to  the  point  which  arouses  most 
strongly  the  universal  human  interest  in  Akbar,  namely, 
to  his  religious  development  and  his  relation  to  the  reli- 
gions, or  better  to  religion.  But  first  I  must  protest  against 
the  position  maintained  by  a  competent  scholar31  that  Akbar 
himself  was  just  as  indifferent  to  religious  matters  as  was 
the  house  of  Timur  as  a  whole.  Against  this  view7  we  have 
the  testimony  of  the  conscientiousness  with  which  he  daily 
performed  his  morning  and  evening  devotions,  the  value 
which  he  placed  upon  fasting  and  prayer  as  a  means  of 
self-discipline,  and  the  regularity  with  which  he  made 
yearly  pilgrimages  to  the  graves  of  Mohammedan  saints. 
A  better  insight  into  Akbar's  heart  than  these  regular  ob- 
servances of  worship  which  might  easily  be  explained  by 
the  force  of  custom  is  given  by  the  extraordinary  manifesta- 
tions of  a  devout  disposition.  When  we  learn  that  Akbar  in- 
variably prayed  at  the  grave  of  his  father  in  Delhi32  before 
starting  upon  any  important  undertaking,  or  that  during 
the  siege  of  Chitor  he  made  a  vow  to  make  a  pilgrimage 

30  J.  T.  Wheeler,  loc.  cit.,  141 ;  Noer,  I,  193 ;  II,  324,  326. 

31  A.  Miiller,  II,  418. 
82  Noer,  I,  262. 


AKBAR,  EMPEROR  OF  INDIA.  187 

to  a  shrine  in  Ajmir  after  the  fall  of  the  fortress,  and  that 
after  Chitor  was  in  his  power  he  performed  this  journey 
in  the  simplest  pilgrim  garb,  tramping  barefooted  over  the 
glowing  sand,33  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  look  upon  Akbar 
as  irreligious.  On  the  contrary  nothing  moved  the  Em- 
peror so  strongly  and  insistently  as  the  striving  after  re- 
ligious truth.  This  effort  led  to  a  struggle  against  the  most 
destructive  power  in  his  kingdom,  against  the  Moham- 
medan priesthood.  That  Akbar,  the  conqueror  in  all  do- 
mains, should  also  have  been  victorious  in  the  struggle 
against  the  encroachments  of  the  Church  (the  bitterest 
struggle  which  a  ruler  can  undertake),  this  alone  should 
insure  him  a  place  among  the  greatest  of  humanity. 

The  Mohammedan  priesthood,  the  community  of  the 
Ulemas  in  whose  hands  lay  also  the  execution  of  justice 
according  to  the  dictates  of  Islam,  had  attained  great  pros- 
perity in  India  by  countless  large  bequests.  Its  distin- 
guished membership  formed  an  influential  party  at  court. 
This  party  naturally  represented  the  Islam  of  the  stricter 
observance,  the  so-called  Sunnitic  Islam,  and  displayed  the 
greatest  severity  and  intolerance  towards  the  representa- 
tives of  every  more  liberal  interpretation  and  towards  un- 
believers. The  chief  judge  of  Agra  sentenced  men  to  death 
because  they  were  Shiites,  that  is  to  say  they  belonged  to 
the  other  branch  of  Islam,  and  the  Ulemas  urged  Akbar  to 
proceed  likewise  against  the  heretics.34  That  arrogance 
and  vanity,  selfishness  and  avarice,  also  belonged  to  the 
character  of  the  Ulemas  is  so  plainly  to  be  taken  for 
granted  according  to  all  analogies  that  it  need  hardly  be 
mentioned.  The  judicature  was  everywhere  utilized  by 
the  Ulemas  as  a  means  for  illegitimate  enrichment. 

This  ecclesiastical  party  which  in  its  narrow-minded 
folly  considered  itself  in  possession  of  the  whole  truth, 

83  Noer,  I,  259- 

MJ.T.  Wheeler,  IV,  I,  156. 


l88  THE   MONIST. 

stands  opposed  to  the  noble  skeptic  Akbar,  whose  doubt  of 
the  divine  origin  of  the  Koran  and  of  the  truth  of  its 
dogmas  began  so  to  torment  him  that  he  would  pass  entire 
nights  sitting  out  of  doors  on  a  stone  lost  in  contemplation. 
The  above  mentioned  brothers  Faizi  and  Abul  Fazl  intro- 
duced to  his  impressionable  spirit  the  exalted  teaching  of 
Sufism,  the  Mohammedan  mysticism  whose  spiritual  pan- 
theism had  its  origin  in,  or  at  least  was  strongly  influenced 
by,  the  doctrine  of  the  All-One,  held  by  the  Brahman  Ve- 
danta  system.  The  Sufi  doctrine  teaches  religious  tol- 
erance and  has  apparently  strengthened  Akbar  in  his  re- 
pugnance towards  the  intolerant  exclusiveness  of  Sunnitic 
Islam. 

The  Ulemas  must  have  been  horror-stricken  when  they 
found  out  that  Akbar  even  sought  religious  instruction 
from  the  hated  Brahmans.  We  hear  especially  of  two, 
Purushottama  and  Debi  by  name,  the  first  of  whom  taught 
Sanskrit  and  Brahman  philosophy  to  the  Emperor  in  his 
palace,  whereas  the  second  was  drawn  up  on  a  platform 
to  the  wall  of  the  palace  in  the  dead  of  the  night  and  there, 
suspended  in  midair,  gave  lessons  on  profound  esoteric 
doctrines  of  the  Upanishads  to  the  emperor  as  he  sat  by 
the  window.  A  characteristic  bit  of  Indian  local  color! 
The  proud  Padishah  of  India,  one  of  the  most  powerful 
rulers  of  his  time,  listening  in  the  silence  of  night  to  the 
words  of  the  Brahman  suspended  there  outside,  who  him- 
self as  proud  as  the  Emperor  would  not  set  foot  inside  the 
dwelling  of  one  who  in  his  eyes  was  unclean,  but  who 
would  not  refuse  his  wisdom  to  a  sincere  seeker  after  truth. 

Akbar  left  no  means  untried  to  broaden  his  religious 
outlook.  From  Gujerat  he  summoned  some  Parsees,  fol- 
lowers of  the  religion  of  Zarathustra,  and  through  them 
informed  himself  of  their  faith  and  their  highly  developed 
system  of  ethics  which  places  the  sinful  thought  on  the 
same  level  with  the  sinful  word  and  act. 


AKBAR,  EMPEROR  OF  INDIA.  189 

From  olden  times  the  inhabitants  of  India  have  had  a 
predisposition  for  religious  and  philosophical  disputations. 
So  Akbar,  too,  was  convinced  of  the  utility  of  free  discus- 
sion on  religious  dogmas.  Based  upon  this  idea,  and  perhaps 
also  in  the  hope  that  the  Ulemas  would  be  discomfited 
Akbar  founded  at  Fathpur  Sikri,  his  favorite  residence  in 
the  vicinity  of  Agra,  the  famous  'Ibadat  Khana,  literally 
the  "house  of  worship,"  but  in  reality  the  house  of  con- 
troversy. This  was  a  splendid  structure  composed  of  four 
halls  in  which  scholars  and  religious  men  of  all  sects  gath- 
ered together  every  Thursday  evening  and  were  given  an 
opportunity  to  defend  their  creeds  in  the  presence  and  with 
the  cooperation  of  the  Emperor.  Akbar  placed  the  discus- 
sion in  charge  of  the  wise  and  liberal  minded  Abul  Fazl. 
How  badly  the  Ulemas,  the  representatives  of  Moham- 
medan orthodoxy,  came  off  on  these  controversial  evenings 
was  to  be  foreseen.  Since  they  had  no  success  with 
their  futile  arguments  they  soon  resorted  to  cries  of  fury, 
insults  for  their  opponents  and  even  to  personal  violence, 
often  turning  against  each  other  and  hurling  curses  upon 
their  own  number.  In  these  discussions  the  inferiority  of 
the  Ulemas,  who  nevertheless  had  always  put  forth  such 
great  claims,  was  so  plainly  betrayed  that  Akbar  learned 
to  have  a  profound  contempt  for  them. 

In  addition  to  this,  the  fraud  and  machinations  by 
means  of  which  the  Ulemas  had  unlawfully  enriched  them- 
selves became  known  to  the  Emperor.  At  any  rate  there 
was  sufficient  ground  for  the  chastisement  which  Akbar  now 
visited  upon  the  high  clergy.  In  the  year  1579  a  decree  was 
issued  which  assigned  to  the  Emperor  the  final  decision 
in  matters  of  faith,  and  this  was  subscribed  to  by  the  chiefs 
of  the  Ulemas, — with  what  personal  feelings  we  can  well 
imagine.  For  by  this  act  the  Ulemas  were  deprived  of 
their  ecclesiastical  authority  which  was  transferred  to  the 
Emperor.  That  the  Orient  too  possesses  its  particular  of- 


THE  MONIST. 

ficial  manner  of  expression  in  administrative  matters  is 
very  prettily  shown  by  a  decree  in  which  Akbar  "granted 
the  long  cherished  wish"  of  these  same  chiefs  of  the  Ulemas 
to  undertake  the  pilgrimage  to  Mecca,  which  of  course 
really  meant  a  banishment  of  several  years.  Other  un- 
worthy Ulemas  were  displaced  from  their  positions  or  de- 
prived of  their  sinecures;  others  who  in  their  bitterness 
had  caused  rebellion  or  incited  or  supported  mutiny  were 
condemned  for  high  treason.  The  rich  property  of  the 
churches  was  for  the  most  part  confiscated  and  appropri- 
ated for  the  general  weal.  In  short,  the  power  and  in- 
fluence of  the  Ulemas  was  completely  broken  down,  the 
mosques  stood  empty  and  were  transformed  into  stables 
and  warehouses. 

Akbar  had  long  ceased  to  be  a  faithful  Moslem.  Now 
after  the  fall  of  the  Ulemas  he  came  forward  openly  with 
his  conviction,  declared  the  Koran  to  be  a  human  compila- 
tion and  its  commands  folly,  disputed  the  miracles  of  Mo- 
hammed and  also  the  value  of  his  prophecies,  and  denied 
the  doctrine  of  recompense  after  death.  He  professed  the 
Brahman  and  Sufistic  doctrine  that  the  soul  migrates 
through  countless  existences  and  finally  attains  divinity 
after  complete  purification. 

The  assertion  of  the  Ulemas  that  every  person  came 
into  the  world  predisposed  towards  Islam  and  that  the 
natural  language  of  mankind  was  Arabic  (the  Jews  made 
the  same  claim  for  Hebrew  and  the  Brahmans  for  San- 
skrit), Akbar  refuted  by  a  drastic  experiment  which  does 
not  correspond  with  his  usual  benevolence,  but  still  is 
characteristic  of  the  tendency  of  his  mind.  In  this  case  a 
convincing  demonstration  appeared  to  him  so  necessary 
that  some  individuals  would  have  to  suffer  for  it.  Accord- 
ingly in  the  year  1579  he  caused  twenty  infants  to  be 
taken  from  their  parents  in  return  for  a  compensation  and 
brought  up  under  the  care  of  silent  nurses  in  a  remote  spot 


AKBAR,  EMPEROR  OF  INDIA. 

in  which  no  word  should  be  spoken.  After  four  years  it 
was  proved  that  as  many  of  these  unhappy  children  as  were 
still  alive  were  entirely  dumb  and  possessed  no  trace  of  a 
predisposition  for  Islam.35  Later  the  children  are  said  to 
have  learned  to  speak  with  extraordinary  difficulty  as  was 
to  be  expected. 

Akbar's  repugnance  to  Islam  developed  into  a  complete 
revulsion  against  every  thing  connected  with  this  narrow 
religion  and  made  the  great  Emperor  petty-souled  in 
this  particular.  The  decrees  were  dated  from  the  death 
of  Mohammed  and  no  longer  from  the  Hejra  (the  flight 
from  Mecca  to  Medina).  Books  written  in  Arabic,  the 
language  of  the  Koran  were  given  the  lowest  place  in  the 
imperial  library.  The  knowledge  of  Arabic  was  prohib- 
ited, even  the  sounds  characteristically  belonging  to  this 
language  were  avoided.36  Where  formerly  according  to 
ancient  tradition  had  stood  the  word  Bismilldhi,  "in  the 
name  of  God,"  there  now  appeared  the  old  war  cry  Allahu 
akbar,  uGod  is  great,"  which  came  into  use  the  more  gen- 
erally— on  coins,  documents,  etc. —  the  more  the  courtiers 
came  to  reverse  the  sense  of  the  slogan  and  to  apply  to  it 
the  meaning,  "Akbar  is  God." 

Before  I  enter  into  the  Emperor's  assumption  of  this 
flattery  and  his  conception  of  the  imperial  dignity  as  con- 
ferred by  the  grace  of  God,  I  must  speak  of  the  interesting 

38  J.  T.  Wheeler,  IV,  I,  174;  Noer,  I,  511,  512.  A  familiar  classical  paral- 
lel to  this  incident  is  the  experiment  recorded  by  Herodotus  (II,  2)  which 
the  Egyptian  king  Fsammetich  is  said  to  have  performed  with  two  infants. 
It  is  related  that  after  being  shut  up  in  a  goat's  stable  for  two  years  separated 
from  all  human  intercourse  these  children  repeatedly  cried  out  the  alleged 
Phrygian  word  PCKOS,  "bread,"  which  in  reality  was  probably  simply  an  imita- 
tion of  the  bleating  of  the  goats.  Compare  Edward  B.  Tyler,  Researches  into 
the  Early  History  of  Mankind.  2d  edition,  (London,  1870),  page  81 :  "It  is  a 
very  trite  remark  that  there  is  nothing  absolutely  incredible  in  the  story  and 
that  Bek,  bek  is  a  good  imitative  word  for  bleating  as  in  fiX^x*0!**1,  MKAo/j.at, 
bloken,  meckern,  etc."  Farther  on  we  find  the  account  of  a  similar  attempt 
made  by  James  IV  of  Scotland  as  well  as  the  literature  with  regard  to  other 
historical  and  legendary  precedents  of  this  sort  in  both  Orient  and  Occident. 

86  Noer,  II,  324,  325.  Beards  which  the  Koran  commanded  to  be  worn 
Akbar  even  refused  to  allow  in  his  presence.  M.  Elphinstone,  525;  G.  B. 
Malleson,  177. 


IQ2  THE  MONIST. 

attempts  of  the  Jesuits  to  win  over  to  Christianity  the  most 
powerful  ruler  of  the  Orient. 

As  early  as  in  the  spring  of  1578  a  Portuguese  Jesuit 
who  worked  among  the  Bengals  as  a  missionary  appeared 
at  the  imperial  court  and  pleased  Akbar  especially  because 
he  got  the  better  of  the  Ulemas  in  controversy.  Two  years 
later  Akbar  sent  a  very  polite  letter  to  the  Provincial  of 
the  Jesuit  order  in  Goa,  requesting  him  to  send  two  Fathers 
in  order  that  Akbar  himself  might  be  instructed  "in  their 
faith  and  its  perfection."  It  is  easy  to  imagine  how  gladly 
the  Provincial  assented  to  this  demand  and  how  carefully 
he  proceeded  with  the  selection  of  the  fathers  who  were  to 
be  sent  away  with  such  great  expectations.  As  gifts  to 
the  Emperor  the  Jesuits  brought  a  Bible  in  four  languages 
and  pictures  of  Christ  and  the  Virgin  Mary,  and  to  their 
great  delight  when  Akbar  received  them  he  laid  the  Bible 
upon  his  head  and  kissed  the  two  pictures  as  a  sign  of 


reverence.37 


In  the  interesting  work  of  the  French  Jesuit  Du  Jarric, 
published  in  1611,  we  possess  very  detailed  accounts  of  the 
operations  of  these  missionaries  who  were  honorably  re- 
ceived at  Akbar's  court  and  who  were  invited  to  take  up 
their  residence  in  the  imperial  palace.  The  evening  as- 
semblies in  the  Tbadat  Khana  in  Fathpur  Sikri  at  once 
gave  the  shrewd  Jesuits  who  were  schooled  in  dialectics, 
an  opportunity  to  distinguish  themselves  before  the  Em- 
peror who  himself  presided  over  this  Religious  Parliament 
in  which  Christians,  Jews,  Mohammedans,  Brahmans, 
Buddhists  and  Parsees  debated  with  each  other.  Abul  Fazl 
speaks  with  enthusiasm  in  the  Akbarname  of  the  wisdom 
and  zealous  faith  of  Father  Aquaviva,  the  leader  of  this  Jes- 
uit mission,  and  relates  how  he  offered  to  walk  into  a  fiery 
furnace  with  a  New  Testament  in  his  hand  if  the  Mullahs 
would  do  the  same  with  the  Koran  in  their  hand,  but  that 

87  J.  T.  Wheeler,  IV,  I,  162;  Noer,  I,  481. 


AKBAR,  EMPEROR  OF  INDIA.  1 93 

the  Mohammedan  priests  withdrew  in  terror  before  this 
test  by  fire.  It  is  noteworthy  in  this  connection  that  the 
Jesuits  at  Akbar's  court  received  a  warning  from  their 
superiors  not  to  risk  such  rash  experiments  which  might 
be  induced  by  the  devil  with  the  view  of  bringing  shame 
upon  Christianity.38  The  superiors  were  apparently  well 
informed  with  regard  to  the  intentions  of  the  devil. 

In  conversation  with  the  Jesuits  Akbar  proved  to  be 
favorably  inclined  towards  many  of  the  Christian  doctrines 
and  met  his  guests  half  way  in  every  manner  possible. 
They  had  permission  to  erect  a  hospital  and  a  chapel  and 
to  establish  Christian  worship  in  the  latter  for  the  benefit 
of  the  Portuguese  in  that  vicinity.  Akbar  himself  occa- 
sionally took  part  in  this  service  kneeling  with  bared  head, 
which,  however,  did  not  hinder  him  from  joining  also  in 
the  Mohammedan  ritual  or  even  the  Brahman  religious 
practices  of  the  Rajput  women  in  his  harem.  He  had  his 
second  son  Murad  instructed  by  the  Jesuits  in  the  Portu- 
guese language  and  in  the  Christian  faith. 

The  Jesuits  on  their  side  pushed  energetically  toward 
their  goal  and  did  not  scorn  to  employ  flattery  in  so  far  as 
to  draw  a  parallel  between  the  Emperor  and  Christ,  but 
no  matter  how  slyly  the  fathers  proceeded  in  the  accom- 
plishment of  their  plans  Akbar  was  always  a  match  for 
them.  In  spite  of  all  concessions  with  regard  to  the  ex- 
cellence and  credibility  of  the  Christian  doctrines  the  Em- 
peror never  seemed  to  be  entirely  satisfied.  Du  Jarric 
"complains  bitterly  of  his  obstinacy  and  remarks  that  the 
restless  intellect  of  this  man  could  never  be  quieted  by  one 
answer  but  must  constantly  make  further  inquiry/'39  The 
clever  historian  of  Islam  makes  the  following  comment: 
"Bad,  very  bad; — perhaps  he  would  not  even  be  satisfied 

88  J.  T.  Wheeler,  IV,  I,  165,  note,  47;  M.  Elphinstone,  523,  note  8;  G.  B. 
Malleson,  162. 

89  In  Noer,  I,  485. 


194  THE  MONIST. 

with  the  seven  riddles  of  the  universe  of  the  latest  natural 


science."40 


To  every  petition  and  importunity  of  the  Jesuits  to  turn 
to  Christianity  Akbar  maintained  a  firm  opposition.  A 
second  and  third  embassy  which  the  order  at  Goa  sent  out 
in  the  nineties  of  the  sixteenth  century,  also  labored  in  vain 
for  Akbar's  conversion  in  spite  of  the  many  evidences  of 
favor  shown  by  the  Emperor.  One  of  the  last  Jesuits  to 
come,  Jerome  Xavier  of  Navarre,  is  said  to  have  been  in- 
duced by  the  Emperor  to  translate  the  four  Gospels  into  Per- 
sian which  was  the  language  of  the  Mohammedan  court  of 
India.  But  Akbar  never  thought  of  allowing  himself  to 
be  baptized,  nor  could  he  consider  it  seriously  from  political 
motives  as  well  as  from  reasons  of  personal  conviction. 
A  man  who  ordered  himself  to  be  officially  declared  the 
highest  authority  in  matters  of  faith — to  be  sure  not  so 
much  in  order  to  found  an  imperial  papacy  in  his  country 
as  to  guard  his  empire  from  an  impending  religious  war — 
at  any  rate  a  man  who  saw  how  the  prosperity  of  his  reign 
proceeded  from  his  own  personal  initiative  in  every  respect, 
such  a  man  could  countenance  no  will  above  his  own  nor 
subject  himself  to  any  pangs  of  conscience.  To  recognize 
the  Pope  as  highest  authority  and  simply  to  recognize  as 
objective  truth  a  finally  determined  system  in  the  realm  in 
which  he  had  spent  day  and  night  in  a  hot  pursuit  after  a 
clearer  vision,  was  for  Akbar  an  absolute  impossibility. 

Then  too  Akbar  could  not  but  see  through  the  Jesuits 
although  he  appreciated  and  admired  many  points  about 
them.  Their  rigid  dogmatism,  their  intolerance  .and  in- 
ordinate ambition  could  leave  him  no  doubt  that  if  they 
once  arose  to  power  the  activity  of  the  Ulemas,  once  by 
good  fortune  overthrown,  would  be  again  resumed  by  them 
to  a  stronger  and  more  dangerous  degree.  It  is  also  prob- 
able that  Akbar,  who  saw  and  heard  everything,  had  learned 

*°  A.  Miiller,  II,  420  n. 


AKBAR,  EMPEROR  OF  INDIA. 

of  the  horrors  of  the  Inquisition  at  Goa.  Moreover,  the 
clearness  of  Akbar's  vision  for  the  realities  of  national  life 
had  too  often  put  him  on  his  guard  to  permit  him  to  look  upon 
the  introduction  of  Christianity,  however  highly  esteemed 
by  him  personally,  as  a  blessing  for  lindia.  He  had  broken 
the  power  of  Islam  in  India;  to  overthrow  in  like  man- 
ner the  second  great  religion  of  his  empire,  Brahmanism, 
to  which  the  great  majority  of  his  subjects  clung  with 
body  and  soul,  and  then  in  place  of  both  existing  religions 
to  introduce  a  third  foreign  religion  inimically  opposed 
to  them — such  a  procedure  would  have  hurled  India  into 
an  irremediable  confusion  and  destroyed  at  one  blow  the 
prosperity  of  the  land  which  had  been  brought  about  by 
the  ceaseless  efforts  of  a  lifetime.  For  of  course  it  was 
not  the  aim  of  the  Jesuits  simply  to  win  Akbar  personally 
to  Christianity  but  they  wished  to  see  their  religion  made 
the  state  religion  of  this  great  empire. 

As  has  been  already  suggested,  submission  to  Chris- 
tianity would  also  have  been  opposed  to  Akbar's  inmost 
conviction.  He  had  climbed  far  enough  up  the  stony  path 
toward  truth  to  recognize  all  religions  as  historically  devel- 
oped and  as  the  products  of  their  time  and  the  land  of  their 
origin.  All  the  nobler  religions  seemed  to  him  to  be  radia- 
tions from  the  one  eternal  truth.  That  he  thought  he  had 
found  the  truth  with  regard  to  the  fate  of  the  soul  in  the 
Sufi-Vedantic  doctrine  of  its  migration  through  countless 
existences  and  its  final  ascension  to  deity  has  been  pre- 
viously mentioned.  With  such  views  Akbar  could  not  be- 
come a  Catholic 'Christian. 

The  conviction  of  the  final  reabsorption  into  deity,  con- 
ditions also  the  belief  in  the  emanation  of  the  ego  from 
deity.  But  Akbar's  relation  to  God  is  not  sufficiently 
identified  with  this  belief.  Akbar  was  convinced  that  he 
stood  nearer  to  God  than  other  people.  This  is  already 
apparent  in  the  title  'The  Shadow  of  God"  which  he  had 


IQ  THE  MONIST. 

assumed.  The  reversed,  or  rather  the  double,  meaning 
of  the  sentence  Alldhu  akbar,  "Akbar  is  God/'  was  not 
displeasing  to  the  Emperor  as  we  know.  And  when  the 
Hindus  declared  him  to  be  an  incarnation  of  a  divinity  he 
did  not  disclaim  this  homage.  Such  a  conception  was  noth- 
ing unusual  with  the  Hindus  and  did  not  signify  a  com- 
plete apotheosis.  Although  Akbar  took  great  pains  he 
was  not  able  to  permanently  prevent  the  people  from 
considering  him  a  healer  and  a  worker  of  miracles.  But 
Akbar  had  too  clear  a  head  not  to  know  that  he  was  a 
man, — a  man  subject  to  mistakes  and  frailties;  for  when 
he  permitted  himself  to  be  led  into  a  deed  of  violence  he  had 
always  experienced  the  bitterest  remorse.  Not  the  slightest 
symptom  of  Caesaromania  can  be  discovered  in  Akbar. 

Akbar  felt  that  he  was  a  mediator  between  God  and 
man  and  believed  "that  the  deity  revealed  itself  to  him  in 
the  mystical  illumination  of  his  soul."41  This  conviction 
Akbar  held  in  common  with  many  rulers  of  the  Occident 
who  were  much  smaller  than  he.  Idolatrous  marks  of  ven- 
eration he  permitted  only  to  a  very  limited  degree.  He 
was  not  always  quite  consistent  in  this  respect  however, 
and  we  must  realize  how  infinitely  hard  it  was  to  be  con- 
sistent in  this  matter  at  an  Oriental  court  when  the  cus- 
tomary servility,  combined  with  sincere  admiration  and 
reverence,  longed  to  actively  manifest  itself. 

Akbar,  as  we  have  already  seen,  suffered  the  Hindu 
custom  of  prostration,  but  on  the  other  hand  we  have  the 
express  testimony  to  the  contrary  from  the  author  Faizi, 
the  trusted  friend  of  the  Emperor,  who  on  the  occasion  of 
an  exaggerated  homage  literally  says :  "The  commands  of 
His  Majesty  expressly  forbid  such  devout  reverence  and  as 
often  as  the  courtiers  offer  homage  of  this  kind  because  of 
their  loyal  sentiments  His  Majesty  forbids  them,  for  such 
manifestations  of  worship  belong  to  God  alone."42  Finally 

41  Noer,  II,  314,  355.  a  In  Noer,  II,  409. 


AKBAR,  EMPEROR  OF  INDIA. 

however  Akbar  felt  himself  moved  to  forbid  prostration 
publicly,  yet  to  permit  it  in  a  private  manner,  as  appears  in 
the  following  words  of  Abul  Fazl43 : 

"But  since  obscurantists  consider  prostration  to  be  a 
blasphemous  adoration  of  man,  His  Majesty  in  his  prac- 
tical wisdom  has  commanded  that  it  be  put  an  end  to  with 
ignorant  people  of  all  stations  and  also  that  it  shall  not  be 
practiced  even  by  his  trusted  servants  on  public  court  days. 
Nevertheless  if  people  upon  whom  the  star  of  good  fortune 
has  shone  are  in  attendance  at  private  assemblies  and  re- 
ceive permission  to  be  seated,  they  may  perform  the  pros- 
tration of  gratitude  by  bowing  their  foreheads  to  the  earth 
and  so  share  in  the  rays  of  good  fortune.  So  forbidding 
prostration  to  the  people  at  large  and  granting  it  to  the 
select  the  Emperor  fulfils  the  wishes  of  both  and  gives  the 
world  an  example  of  practical  wisdom/' 

The  desire  to  unite  his  subjects  as  much  as  possible 
finally  impelled  Akbar  to  the  attempt  to  equalize  religious 
differences  as  well.  Convinced  that  religions  did  not  differ 
from  each  other  in  their  innermost  essence,  he  combined 
what  in  his  opinion  were  the  essential  elements  and  about 
the  year  1580  founded  a  new  religion,  the  famous  Din  i 
Ilahi,  the  "religion  of  God."  This  religion  recognizes  only 
one  God,  a  purely  spiritual  universally  efficient  being  from 
whom  the  human  soul  is  derived  and  towards  which  it 
tends.  The  ethics  of  this  religion  comprises  the  high 
moral  requirements  of  Sufism  and  Parsism:  complete  tol- 
eration, equality  of  rights  among  all  men,  purity  in 
thought,  word  and  deed.  The  demand  of  monogamy,  too, 
was  added  later.  Priests,  images  and  temples, — Akbar 
would  have  none  of  these  in  his  new  religion,  but  from  the 
Parsees  he  took  the  worship  of  the  fire  and  of  the  sun  as 
to  him  light  and  its  heat  seemed  the  most  beautiful  symbol 
of  the  divine  spirit.44  He  also  adopted  the  holy  cord  of  the 

48  In  Noer,  II,  347,  348.  "  M.  Elphinstone,  524. 


198  THE  MONIST. 

Hindus  and  wore  upon  his  forehead  the  colored  token  cus- 
tomary among  them.  In  this  eclectic  manner  he  accommo- 
dated himself  in  a  few  externalities  to  the  different  reli- 
gious communities  existing  in  his  kingdom. 

Doubtless  in  the  foundation  of  his  Din  i  Ilahi  Akbar 
was  not  pursuing  merely  ideal  ends  but  probably  political 
ones  as  well,  for  the  adoption  of  the  new  religion  signified 
an  increased  loyalty  to  the  Emperor.  The  novice  had  to 
declare  himself  ready  to  yield  to  the  Emperor  his  property, 
his  life,  his  honor,  and  his  former  faith,  and  in  reality  the 
adherents  of  the  Din  i  Ilahi  formed  a  clan  of  the  truest  and 
most  devoted  servitors  of  the  Emperor.  It  may  not  be 
without  significance  that  soon  after  the  establishment  of  the 
Din  i  Ilahi  a  new  computation  of  time  was  introduced 
which  dated  from  the  accession  of  Akbar  to  the  throne  in 

1556. 

After  the  new  religion  had  been  in  existence  perhaps 
five  years  the  number  of  converts  began  to  grow  by  the 
thousands  but  we  can  say  with  certainty  that  the  greater 
portion  of  these  changed  sides  not  from  conviction  but 
on  account  of  worldly  advantage,  since  they  saw  that  mem- 
bership in  the  new  religion  was  very  advantageous  to  a 
career  in  the  service  of  the  state.45  By  far  the  greatest 
number  of  those  who  professed  the  Din  i  Ilahi  observed 
only  the  external  forms,  privately  remaining  alien  to  it. 

In  reality  the  new  religion  did  not  extend  outside  of 
Akbar's  court  and  died  out  at  his  death.  Hence  if  failure 
here  can  be  charged  to  the  account  of  the  great  Emperor, 
yet  this  very  failure  redounds  to  his  honor.  Must  it  not 
be  counted  as  a  great  honor  to  Akbar  that  he  considered 
it  possible  to  win  over  his  people  to  a  spiritual  imageless 
worship  of  God?  Had  he  known  that  the  religious  re- 
quirements of  the  masses  can  only  be  satisfied  by  concrete 
objects  of  worship  and  by  miracles  (the  more  startling  the 

45  Noer,  I,  503. 


AKBAR,  EMPEROR  OF  INDIA.  1 99 

better),  that  a  spiritualized  faith  can  never  be  the  posses- 
sion of  any  but  a  few  chosen  souls,  he  would  not  have  pro- 
ceeded with  the  founding  of  the  Din  i  Ilahi.  And  still  we 
cannot  call  its  establishment  an  absolute  failure,  for  the 
spirit  of  tolerance  which  flowed  out  from  Akbar's  religion 
accomplished  infinite  good  and  certainly  contributed  just 
as  much  to  lessening  the  antagonisms  in  India  as  did  Ak- 
bar's social  and  industrial  reforms. 

A  man  who  accomplished  such  great  things  and  desired 
to  accomplish  greater,  deserves  a  better  fortune  than  was 
Akbar's  towards  the  end  of  life.  He  had  provided  for  his 
sons  the  most  careful  education,  giving  them  at  the  same 
time  Christian  and  orthodox  Mohammedan  instructors  in 
order  to  lead  them  in  their  early  years  to  the  attainment  of 
independent  views  by  means  of  a  comparison  between  con- 
trasts; but  he  was  never  to  have  pleasure  in  his  sons.  It 
seems  that  he  lacked  the  necessary  severity.  The  two 
younger  boys  of  this  exceedingly  temperate  Emperor, 
Murad  and  Danial,  died  of  delirium  tremens  in  their  youth 
even  before  their  father.  The  oldest  son,  Selim,  later  the 
Emperor  Jehangir,  was  also  a  drunkard  and  was  saved 
from  destruction  through  this  inherited  vice  of  the  Timur 
dynasty  only  by  the  wisdom  and  determination  of  his  wife. 
But  he  remained  a  wild  uncontrolled  cruel  man  (as  differ- 
ent as  possible  from  his  father  and  apparently  so  by  inten- 
tion) who  took  sides  with  the  party  of  the  vanquished 
Ulemas  and  stepped  forth  as  the  restorer  of  Islam.  In 
frequent  open  rebellion  against  his  magnanimous  father 
who  was  only  too  ready  to  pardon  him,  he  brought  upon 
this  father  the  bitterest  sorrow;  and  especially  by  having 
the  trustworthy  minister  and  friend  of  his  father,  Abul 
Fazl,  murdered  while  on  a  journey.  Very  close  to  Akbar 
also  was  the  loss  of  his  old  mother  to  whom  he  had  clung 
his  whole  life  long  with  a  touching  love  and  whom  he  out- 
lived only  a  short  time. 


2OO  THE  MONIST. 

Akbar  lost  his  best  friends  and  his  most  faithful  ser- 
vants before  he  finally  succumbed  to  a  very  painful  abdom- 
inal illness,  which  at  the  last  changed  him  also  mentally  to 
a  very  sad  extent,  and  finally  carried  him  off  on  the  night 
of  the  fifteenth  of  October,  1605.  He  was  buried  at  Sikan- 
dra  near  Agra  in  a  splendid  mausoleum  of  enormous  pro- 
portions which  he  himself  had  caused  to  be  built  and  which 
even  to-day  stands  almost  uninjured. 

This  in  short  is  a  picture  of  the  life  and  activities  of 
the  greatest  ruler  which  the  Orient  has  ever  produced. 
In  order  to  rightly  appreciate  Akbar's  greatness  we  must 
bear  in  mind  that  in  his  empire  he  placed  all  men  on  an 
equality  without  regard  to  race  or  religion,  and  granted 
universal  freedom  of  worship  at  a  time  when  the  Jews  were 
still  outlaws  in  the  Occident  and  many  bloody  persecutions 
occurred  from  time  to  time;  when  in  the  Occident  men 
were  imprisoned,  executed  or  burnt  at  the  stake  for  the 
sake  of  their  faith  or  their  doubts ;  at  a  time  when  Europe 
was  polluted  by  the  horrors  of  witch-persecution  and  the 
massacre  of  St.  Bartholemew.46  Under  Akbar's  rule  India 
stood  upon  a  much  higher  plane  of  civilization  in  the  six- 
teenth century  than  Europe  at  the  same  time. 

Germany  should  be  proud  that  the  personality  of  Akbar 
who  according  to  his  own  words  "desired  to  live  at  peace 
with  all  humanity,  with  every  creature  of  God,"  has  so 
inspired  a  noble  German  of  princely  blood  in  the  last  cen- 
tury that  he  consecrated  the  work  of  his  life  to  the  biography 
of  Akbar.  This  man  is  the  Prince  Friedrich  August  of 
Schleswig-Holstein,  Count  of  Noer,  who  wandered  through 
the  whole  of  Northern  India  on  the  track  of  Akbar's  ac- 
tivities, and  on  the  basis  of  the  most  careful  investigation 
of  sources  has  given  us  in  his  large  two-volumed  work  the 
best  and  most  extensive  information  which  has  been  writ- 
ten in  Europe  about  the  Emperor  Akbar.  How  much  his 

48  Noer,  I,  490  n. 


AKBAR,  EMPEROR  OF  INDIA.  2OI 

work  has  been  a  labor  of  love  can  be  recognized  at  every 
step  in  his  book  but  especially  may  be  seen  in  a  touching 
letter  from  Agra  written  on  the  24th  of  April,  1868,  in 
which  he  relates  that  he  utilized  the  early  hours  of  this 
day  for  an  excursion  to  lay  a  bunch  of  fresh  roses  on  Ak- 
bar's  grave  and  that  no  visit  to  any  other  grave  had  ever 
moved  him  so  much  as  this.47 

RICHARD  GARBE. 
TUEBINGEN,  GERMANY. 

4T  Noer,  II,  564,  572. 


A  NEWLY  DISCOVERED  TREATISE  OF  ARCHI- 
MEDES. 

HEIBERG'S  TRANSLATION  FROM  THE  GREEK.i 

GREAT  credit  is  due  to  Prof.  J.  L.  Heiberg  of  the 
department  of  Classical  Philology  at  the  University 
of  Copenhagen  for  bringing  to  light  and  making  accessible 
to  the  mathematical  world  this  interesting  document  from 
the  hand  of  Archimedes.  Professor  Heiberg  spent  some 
time  while  in  Constantinople  in  the  summer  of  1906  in 
deciphering  the  manuscript  which  was  preserved  there  to- 
gether with  a  thirteenth  century  Euchologion  in  the  cloister 
of  the  Holy  Sepulchre.  The  Archimedes  manuscript  is 
inscribed  in  the  beautiful  miniscule  of  the  tenth  century, 
and  though  greatly  faded  is  not  so  obliterated  but  that  it 
is  to  some  extent  legible  with  the  aid  of  a  magnifying  lens. 
It  includes  a  number  of  Archimedean  fragments  which  can 
be  identified  with  references  made  by  early  mathematicians, 
but  the  most  important  discovery  is  that  of  the  present 
treatise  of  which  the  restored  text  with  philological  notes 
was  published  in  Hermes  (XLII)  preceded  in  a  previous 
number  by  the  German  translation  of  Professor  Heiberg 
which  also  appeared  bitheBibliothecaMathematica  (VIII) 
accompanied  by  an  extensive  commentary  by  Prof.  H.  G. 
Zeuthen  of  the  Department  of  Mathematics  at  Copenhagen. 
The  present  version  has  been  revised  by  Professor  Heiberg 
and  contains  some  deviations  from  the  German  translation 

1  English  version  translated  from  the  German  by  Lydia  G.  Robinson. 


A  NEWLY  DISCOVERED  TREATISE  OF  ARCHIMEDES.     2O3 

which  are  the  more  matured  result  of  a  renewed  perusal 
and  more  exact  decipherment  of  the  text. 

The  treatise  is  rich  in  information  with  regard  to  the 
modus  opcrandi  of  Archimedes  and  his  general  conception 
of  mathematics  as  well  as  that  of  his  predecessors.  His 
style  is  so  simple  that  where  the  text  is  complete  the 
reader  has  no  difficulty  in  understanding  his  clear  expo- 
sition. His  train  of  thought  is  so  easily  followed  that  the 
smaller  gaps  in  the  text  may  be  filled  with  almost  absolute 
certainty  and  such  restorations  are  here  indicated  by  brack- 
ets []  ;  it  is  even  possible  to  conjecture  the  probable  main 
point  of  an  occasional  lost  demonstration  from  a  close 
perusal  of  those  preceding  and  following  it. 

ARCHIMEDES'S    METHOD    OF   DERIVING    GEOMETRICAL    CON- 
CLUSIONS  FROM   MECHANICAL   PROPOSITIONS. 

ARCHIMEDES  TO  ERATOSTHENES,  GREETING: 

Some  time  ago  I  sent  you  some  theorems  I  had  discovered, 
writing  down  only  the  propositions  because  I  wished  you  to  find 
their  demonstrations  which  had  not  been  given.  The  propositions 
of  the  theorems  which  I  sent  you  were  the  following: 

1.  If  in  a  perpendicular  prism  with  a  parallelogram2  for  base 
a  cylinder  is  inscribed  which  has  its  bases  in  the  opposite  paral- 
lelograms2 and  its  surface  touching  the  other  planes  of  the  prism, 
and  if  a  plane  is  passed  through  the  center  of  the  circle  that  is  the 
base  of  the  cylinder  and  one  side  of  the  square  lying  in  the  opposite 
plane,  then  that  plane  will  cut  off  from  the  cylinder  a  section  which 
is  bounded  by  two  planes,  the  intersecting  plane  and  the  one  in 
which  the  base  of  the  cylinder  lies,  and  also  by  as  much  of  the 
surface  of  the  cylinder  as  lies  between  these  same  planes;  and  the 
detached  section  of  the  cylinder  is  %  of  the  whole  prism. 

2.  If  in  a  cube  a  cylinder  is  inscribed  whose  bases  lie  in  oppo- 
site parallelograms2  and  whose  surface  touches  the  other  four  planes, 
and  if  in  the  same  cube  a  second  cylinder  is  inscribed  whose  bases 
lie  in  two  other  parallelograms2   and   whose   surface  touches  the 
four  other  planes,  then  the  body  enclosed  by  the  surface  of  the 
cylinder  and  comprehended  within  both  cylinders  will  be  equal  to 
%  of  the  whole  cube. 

2  This  must  mean  a  square. 


2O4  THE   MONIST. 

These  propositions  differ  essentially  from  those  formerly  dis- 
covered;  for  then  we  compared  those  bodies  (conoids,  spheroids 
and  their  segments)  with  the  volume  of  cones  and  cylinders  but  none 
of  them  was  found  to  be  equal  to  a  body  enclosed  by  planes.  Each 
of  these  bodies,  on  the  other  hand,  which  are  enclosed  by  two  planes 
and  cylindrical  surfaces  is  found  to  be  equal  to  a  body  enclosed 
by  planes.  The  demonstration  of  these  propositions  I  am  accordingly 
sending  to  you  in  this  book. 

Since  I  see,  however,  as  I  have  previously  said,  that  you  are 
a  capable  scholar  and  a  prominent  teacher  of  philosophy,  and  also 
that  you  understand  how  to  value  a  mathematical  method  of  in- 
vestigation when  the  opportunity  is  offered,  I  have  thought  it  well 
to  analyze  and  lay  down  for  you  in  this  same  book  a  peculiar  method 
by  means  of  which  it  will  be  possible  for  you  to  derive  instruction 
as  to  how  certain  mathematical  questions  may  be  investigated  by 
means  of  mechanics.  And  I  am  convinced  that  this  is  equally  profit- 
able in  demonstrating  a  proposition  itself ;  for  much  that  was  made 
evident  to  me  through  the  medium  of  mechanics  was  later  proved 
by  means  of  geometry  because  the  treatment  by  the  former  method 
had  not  yet  been  established  by  way  of  a  demonstration.  For  of 
course  it  is  easier  to  establish  a  proof  if  one  has  in  this  way  pre- 
viously obtained  a  conception  of  the  questions,  than  for  him  to  seek  it 
without  such  a  preliminary  notion.  Thus  in  the  familiar  propositions 
the  demonstrations  of  which  Eudoxos  was  the  first  to  discover, 
namely  that  a  cone  and  a  pyramid  are  one  third  the  size  of  that 
cylinder  and  prism  respectively  that  have  the  same  base  and  alti- 
tude, no  little  credit  is  due  to  Democritos  who  was  the  first  to  make 
that  statement  about  these  bodies  without  any  demonstration.  But 
we  are  in  a  position  to  have  found  the  present  proposition  in  the 
same  way  as  the  earlier  one ;  and  I  have  decided  to  write  down  and 
make  known  the  method  partly  because  we  have  already  talked 
about  it  heretofore  and  so  no  one  would  think  that  we  were  spread- 
ing abroad  idle  talk,  and  partly  in  the  conviction  that  by  this  means 
we  are  obtaining  no  slight  advantage  for  mathematics,  for  indeed 
I  assume  that  some  one  among  the  investigators  of  to-day  or  in  the 
future  will  discover  by  the  method  here  set  forth  still  other  propo- 
sitions which  have  not  yet  occurred  to  us. 

In  the  first  place  we  will  now  explain  what  was  also  first  made 
clear  to  us  through  mechanics,  namely  that  a  segment  of  a  parabola 
is  %  of  the  triangle  possessing  the  same  base  and  equal  altitude; 
following  which  we  will  explain  in  order  the  particular  propositions 


A  NEWLY  DISCOVERED  TREATISE  OF  ARCHIMEDES.     2O5 

discovered  by  the  above  mentioned  method ;  and  in  the  last  part 
of  the  book  we  will  present  the  geometrical  demonstrations  of  the 
propositions.4 

1.  If  one  magnitude  is  taken  away  from  another  magnitude  and 
the  same  point  is  the  center  of  gravity  both  of  the  whole  and  of  the 
part  removed,  then  the  same  point  is  the  center  of  gravity  of  the 
remaining  portion. 

2.  If  one  magnitude  is  taken  away  from  another  magnitude  and 
the  center  of  gravity  of  the  whole  and  of  the  part  removed  is  not 
the  same  point,  the  center  of  gravity  of  the  remaining  portion  may 
be  found  by  prolonging  the  straight  line  which  connects  the  centers 
of  gravity  of  the  whole  and  of  the  part  removed,  and  setting  off 
upon  it  another  straight  line  which  bears  the  same  ratio  to  the 
straight  line  between  the  aforesaid  centers  of  gravity,  as  the  weight 
of  the  magnitude  which  has  been  taken  away  bears  to  the  weight 
of  the  one  remaining  [De  plan,  aequil.  I,  8]. 

3.  If  the  centers  of  gravity  of  any  number  of  magnitudes  lie 
upon  the  same  straight  line,  then  will  the  center  of  gravity  of  all  the 
magnitudes  combined  lie  also  upon  the  same  straight  line  [Cf.  ibid. 

1,5]. 

4.  The  center  of  gravity  of  a  straight  line  is  the  center  of  that 
line  [CLibid.  1,4]. 

5.  The  center  of  gravity  of  a  triangle  is  the  point  in  which  the 
straight  lines  drawn  from  the  angles  of  a  triangle  to  the  centers  of 
the  opposite  sides  intersect  [Ibid.  I,  14]. 

6.  The  center  of  gravity  of  a  parallelogram  is  the  point  where 
its  diagonals  meet  [Ibid.  I,  10]. 

7.  The  center  of  gravity   [of  a  circle]   is  the  center   [of  that 
circle]. 

8.  The  center  of  gravity  of  a  cylinder  [is  the  center  of  its  axis]. 

9.  The  center  of  gravity  of  a  prism  is  the  center  of  its  axis. 

10.  The  center  of  gravity  of  a  cone  so  divides  its  axis  that  the 
section  at  the  vertex  is  three  times  as  great  as  the  remainder. 

11.  Moreover  together  with  the  exercise  here  laid  down  I  will 
make  use  of  the  following  proposition: 

If  any  number  of  magnitudes  stand  in  the  same  ratio  to  the 
same  number  of  other  magnitudes  which  correspond  pair  by  pair, 
and  if  either  all  or  some  of  the  former  magnitudes  stand  in  any 

4  In  his  "Commentar,"  Professor  Zeuthen  calls  attention  to  the  fact  that 
it  was  already  known  from  Heron's  recently  discovered  Metrica  that  these 
propositions  were  contained  in  this  treatise,  and  Professor  Heiberg  made  the 
same  comment  in  Hermes. — Tr. 


206 


THE   MONIST. 


ratio  whatever  to  other  magnitudes,  and  the  latter  in  the  same  ratio 
to  the  corresponding  ones,  then  the  sum  of  the  magnitudes  of  the 
first  series  will  bear  the  same  ratio  to  the  sum  of  those  taken  from 
the  third  series  as  the  sum  of  those  of  the  second  series  bears  to 
the  sum  of  those  taken  from  the  fourth  series  [De  Conoid.  I]. 


Let  a/?y  [Fig.  i]  be  the  segment  of  a  parabola  bounded  by  the 
straight  line  ay  and  the  parabola  a/?y.  Let  ay  be  bisected  at  8,  8/?c 
being  parallel  to  the  diameter,  and  draw  a/?,  and  /3y.  Then  the 
segment  a/Jy  will  be  %  as  great  as  the  triangle  a/3y. 

From  the  points  a  and  y  draw  a£  1 1  8/3c,  and  the  tangent  y£ ; 

produce  [y(3  to  K,  and 
make  K0  =  y/c] .  Think  of 
yd  as  a  scale-beam  with 
the  center  at  AC  and  let  /A| 
be  any  straight  line  what- 
ever 1 1  cS-  Now  since  y/?a 
is  a  parabola,  y£  a  tan- 
gent and  yS  an  ordinate, 
then  €/?  =  /3S  ;  for  this  in- 
deed has  been  proved  in 
the  Elements  [i.  e.,  of 
conic  sections,  cf.  Quadr. 
parab.  2].  For  this  rea- 

ar          .         ^7  son  and  because  £a  and 

F.     j  r*||e8,  nv  =  v£,    and  CK  = 

Ka.  And  because  ya :  a| 
=  f«4  •  £»  ( for  this  is  shown 

in  a  corollary,  [cf.  Quadr.  parab.  5]),  yo:a£  =  yic:  KV;  and  yK  =  K0, 
therefore  #K  :  KV  = /x| :  £o-  And  because  v  is  the  center  of  gravity  of 
the  straight  line  /u£,  since  /*v  =  v|,  then  if  we  make  r^-lo  and  0  as 
its  center  of  gravity  so  that  rO  =  Orj,  the  straight  line  rOrj  will  be  in 
equilibrium  with  p£  in  its  present  position  because  6v  is  divided  in 
inverse  proportion  to  the  weights  rrj  and  /A£,  and  OK  :  KV  =  ^ :  TJT  ;  there- 
fore K  is  the  center  of  gravity  of  the  combined  weight  of  the  two. 
In  the  same  way  all  straight  lines  drawn  in  the  triangle  £ay  1 1  eS  are 
in  their  present  positions  in  equilibrium  with  their  parts  cut  off  by 
the  parabola,  when  these  are  transferred  to  0,  so  that  K  is  the  center 
of  gravity  of  the  combined  weight  of  the  two.  And  because  the 
triangle  y£a  consists  of  the  straight  lines  in  the  triangle  y£a  and  the 


A  NEWLY  DISCOVERED  TREATISE  OF  ARCHIMEDES.     2O/ 

segment  a/?y  consists  of  those  straight  lines  within  the  segment  of 
the  parabola  corresponding  to  the  straight  line  £o,  therefore  the 
triangle  £ay  in  its  present  position  will  be  in  equilibrium  at  the 
point  K  with  the  parabola-segment  when  this  is  transferred  to  6  as 
its  center  of  gravity,  so  that  K  is  the  center  of  gravity  of  the  combined 
weights  of  the  two.  Now  let  y*  be  so  divided  at  x  that  yK  =  3*x; 
then  x  will  ^>e  tne  center  of  gravity  of  the  triangle  a£y,  for  this 
has  been  shown  in  the  Statics  [cf.  De  plan,  aequil.  I,  15,  p.  186, 
3  with  Eutokios,  S.  320,  5fT.].  Now  the  triangle  £ay  in  its  present 
position  is  in  equilibrium  at  the  point  K  with  the  segment  pay  when 
this  is  transferred  to  6  as  its  center  of  gravity,  and  the  center  of 
gravity  of  the  triangle  £ay  is  x  \  hence  triangle  a£y :  segm.  a/?y  when 
transferred  to  6  as  its  center  of  gravity  =  OK  :  KX-  But  OK  =  $KX  ; 
hence  also  triangle  a£y  =  3  segm.  a/?y.  But  it  is  also  true  that  triangle 
£ay  =  4Aa/?y  because  £K  =  KO.  and  a8  =  Sy;  hence  segm.  a/?y  =  %  the 
triangle  a/?y.  This  is  of  course  clear. 

It  is  true  that  this  is  not  proved  by  what  we  have  said  here ; 
but  it  indicates  that  the  result  is  correct.  And  so,  as  we  have  just 
seen  that  it  has  not  been  proved  but  rather  conjectured  that  the 
result  is  correct  we  have  devised  a  geometrical  demonstration  which 
we  made  known  some  time  ago  and  will  again  bring  forward 
farther  on. 

n. 

That  a  sphere  is  four  times  as  large  as  a  cone  whose  base  is 
equal  to  the  largest  circle  of  the  sphere  and  whose  altitude  is  equal 
to  the  radius  of  the  sphere,  and  that  a  cylinder  whose  base  is  equal 
to  the  largest  circle  of  the  sphere  and  whose  altitude  is  equal  to  the 
diameter  of  the  circle  is  one  and  a  half  times  as  large  as  the  sphere, 
may  be  seen  by  the  present  method  in  the  following  way: 

Let  a/2y8  [Fig.  2]  be  the  largest  circle  of  a  sphere  and  ay  and  (38 
its  diameters  perpendicular  to  each  other ;  let  there  be  in  the  sphere 
a  circle  on  the  diameter  {38  perpendicular  to  the  circle  a(3y8,  and 
on  this  perpendicular  circle  let  there  be  a  cone  erected  with  its 
vertex  at  a;  producing  the  convex  surface  of  the  cone,  let  it  be 
cut  through  y  by  a  plane  parallel  to  its  base ;  the  result  will  be  the 
circle  perpendicular  to  ay  whose  diameter  will  be  e£.  On  this 
circle  erect  a  cylinder  whose  axis  =ay  and  whose  vertical  bound- 
aries are  eA.  and  £r/.  Produce  ya  making  aO  =  ya  and  think  of  yO  as 
a  scale-beam  with  its  center  at  a.  Then  let  pv  be  any  straight  line 
whatever  drawn  \\/38  intersecting  the  circle  a/2y8  in  £  and  o,  the 


208 


THE  MONIST. 


diameter  ay  in  <r,  the  straight  line  a€  in  TT  and  a£  in  p,  and  on  the 
straight  line  /xv  construct  a  plane  perpendicular  to  ay;  it  will  inter- 
sect the  cylinder  in  a  circle  on  the  diameter  /«/;  the  sphere  a/tyS,  in 
a  circle  on  the  diameter  £o  ;  the  cone  ae£  in  a  circle  on  the  diameter 

irp.      Now  because  ya  X  ao-  =  /u<r  X  O-TT    (  for  ay  =  oyx,  a<7  =  TTO-)  ,  and  ya  X 


ao-  =  a£2  =  £0- 


then  JUG-  x  (T7T  =  |a2  + 


a. 


cr  o\  o 


7 

Fig.  2. 


Moreover,  because  ya :  ao- 
=  juo- :  O-TT  and  ya  =  ad,  there- 
fore da  :  a<T  —  fJL(T  '.  CT7T  =  [ACT2  I 

pa  x  o-Tr-  But  it  has  been 
proved  that  |o-2  +  o-rr2  =  /AO-X 
o-Tr ;  hence  aO :  ao-=/i,o-2  -|a2+ 
o-TT2.  But  it  is  true  that 

Trp2=  the  circle  in  the  cyl- 
inder whose  diameter  is 
/«/:the  circle  in  the  cone 
whose  diameter  is  Trp  +  the 
circle  in  the  sphere  whose 
diameter  is  £o ;  hence  Oa : 
ao-  =  the  circle  in  the  cyl- 
inder :  the  circle  in  the 
sphere  +  the  circle  in  the 


cone.  Therefore  the  circle  in  the  cylinder  in  its  present  position 
will  be  in  equilibrium  at  the  point  a  with  the  two  circles  whose 
diameters  are  £o  and  irp,  if  they  are  so  transferred  to  0  that  6  is  the 
center  of  gravity  of  both.  In  the  same  way  it  can  be  shown  that 
when  another  straight  line  is  drawn  in  the  parallelogram  £A  1 1  c£, 
and  upon  it  a  plane  is  erected  perpendicular  to  ay,  the  circle  pro- 
duced in  the  cylinder  in  its  present  position  will  be  in  equilibrium 
at  the  point  a  with  the  two  circles  produced  in  the  sphere  and  the 
cone  when  they  are  transferred  and  so  arranged  on  the  scale-beam 
at  the  point  0  that  0  is  the  center  of  gravity  of  both.  Therefore 
if  cylinder,  sphere  and  cone  are  filled  up  with  such  circles  then  the 
cylinder  in  its  present  position  will  be  in  equilibrium  at  the  point  a 
with  the  sphere  and  the  cone  together,  if  they  are  transferred  and 
so  arranged  on  the  scale-beam  at  the  point  0  that  6  is  the  center  of 
gravity  of  both.  Now  since  the  bodies  we  have  mentioned  are  in 
equilibrium,  the  cylinder  with  K  as  its  center  of  gravity,  the  sphere 
and  the  cone  transferred  as  we  have  said  so  that  they  have  6  as 
center  of  gravity,  then  6a\aK.  —  cylinder  :  sphere  +  cone.  But  6a - 
2aK,  and  hence  also  the  cylinder  =  2  x  (sphere  +  cone).  But  it  is  also 


A  NEWLY  DISCOVERED  TREATISE  OF  ARCHIMEDES.     2OQ 

true  that  the  cylinder  =3  cones  [Euclid,  Elem.  XII,  10],  hence  3 
cones  =  2  cones  +  2  spheres.  ,  If  2  cones  be  subtracted  from  both 
sides,  then  the  cone  whose  axes  form  the  triangle  ae£,  =  2  spheres. 
But  the  cone  whose  axes  form  the  triangle  ae£  =  8  cones  whose  axes 
form  the  triangle  a(3S  because  €£  =  2/38,  hence  the  aforesaid  8  cones 
=  2  spheres.  Consequently  the  sphere  whose  greatest  circle  is  a/?y8 
is  four  times  as  large  as  the  cone  with  its  vertex  at  a,  and  whose 
base  is  the  circle  on  the  diameter  /?8  perpendicular  to  ay. 

Draw  the  straight  lines  <£/?x  and  i/^to  1 1  ay  through  (3  and  8  in 
the  parallelogram  A£  and  imagine  a  cylinder  whose  bases  are  the 
circles  on  the  diameters  <f)\f/  and  xw  and  whose  axis  is  ay.  Now 
since  the  cylinder  whose  axes  form  the  parallelogram  <£«  is  twice 
as  large  as  the  cylinder  whose  axes  form  the  parallelogram  <£8  and 
the  latter  is  three  times  as  large  as  the  cone  the  triangle  of  whose 
axes  is  a/?8,  as  is  shown  in  the  Elements  [Euclid,  Elem.  XII,  10],  the 
cylinder  whose  axes  form  the  parallelogram  <£<o  is  six  times  as  large 
as  the  cone  whose  axes  form  the  triangle  a/?8.  But  it  was  shown 
that  the  sphere  whose  largest  circle  is  a/?y8  is  four  times  as  large 
as  the  same  cone,  consequently  the  cylinder  is  one  and  one  half 
times  as  large  as  the  sphere,  Q.  E.  D. 

After  I  had  thus  perceived  that  a  sphere  is  four  times  as  large 
as  the  cone  whose  base  is  the  largest  circle  of  the  sphere  and  whose 
altitude  is  equal  to  its  radius,  it  occurred  to  me  that  the  surface  of 
a  sphere  is  four  times  as  great  as  its  largest  circle,  in  which  I  pro- 
ceeded from  the  idea  that  just  as  a  circle  is  equal  to  a  triangle  whose 
base  is  the  periphery  of  the  circle  and  whose  altitude  is  equal  to 
its  radius,  so  a  sphere  is  equal  to  a  cone  whose  base  is  the  same  as 
the  surface  of  the  sphere  and  whose  altitude  is  equal  to  the  radius 
of  the  sphere. 

in. 

By  this  method  it  may  also  be  seen  that  a  cylinder  whose  base 
is  equal  to  the  largest  circle  of  a  spheroid  and  whose  altitude  is 
equal  to  the  axis  of  the  spheroid,  is  one  and  one  half  times  as  large 
as  the  spheroid,  and  when  this  is  recognized  it  becomes  clear  that 
if  a  spheroid  is  cut  through  its  center  by  a  plane  perpendicular  to 
its  axis,  one-half  of  the  spheroid  is  twice  as  great  as  the  cone  whose 
base  is  that  of  the  segment  and  its  axis  the  same. 

For  let  a  spheroid  be  cut  by  a  plane  through  its  axis  and  let 
there  be  in  its  surface  an  ellipse  a/?y8  [Fig.  3]  whose  diameters  are 
ay  and  /?8  and  whose  center  is  K  and  let  there  be  a  circle  in  the 


2IO 


THE   MONIST. 


spheroid  on  the  diameter  (3S  perpendicular  to  ay;  then  imagine  a 
cone  whose  base  is  the  same  circle  but  whose  vertex  is  at  a,  and 
producing  its  surface,  let  the  cone  be  cut  by  a  plane  through  y 
parallel  to  the  base;  the  intersection  will  be  a  circle  perpendicular 
to  ay  with  e£  as  its  diameter.  Now  imagine  a  cylinder  whose  base 
is  the  same  circle  with  the  diameter  e£  and  whose  axis  is  ay  ;  let  ya 
be  produced  so  that  a#  =  ya;  think  of  By  as  a  scale-beam  with  its 
center  at  a  and  in  the  parallelogram  A£  draw  a  straight  line  /xv  1  1  e£, 
and  on  pv  construct  a  plane  perpendicular  to  ay  ;  this  will  intersect 
the  cylinder  in  a  circle  whose  diameter  is  p,v,  the  spheroid  in  a  circle 
whose  diameter  is  £o  and  the  cone  in  a  circle  whose  diameter  is 
TT/O.  Because  ya  :  acr  =  ca  :  air  =  /t«r  :  air,  and  ya  =  a6,  therefore  Oa  :  aa  = 

par  I  CTTT.     But  pa  :  air  =  pa2  :  fjicr  X  CTTT  and  fia  X  cnr  —  ira2  +  <r£2,  for  aa  X  ay  '. 

a£2  =  OLK  x  Ky  :  Kp2  =  a*2  :  Kp2    (  for  both  ratios  are  equal  to  the  ratio 

between  the  diameter  and  the 
parameter  [Apollonius,  Con. 
I,  21  ])  =  ao-2  :  o-TT2,  therefore 

aa2  :  aa  X  ay   =   Tra2  '.  a£2   =   cnr2  : 

air  x  TT/X,  consequently  /XTT  x  ira 
=  <r|2.  If  TTo-2  is  added  to  both 
sides  then  fJLaXa-jr  =  Tra2  +  cr£2. 

Therefore    Oa  :  aa  =  pa2  :  Tra2  + 

a£2.  But  fjia2  :  a£2  +  air2  =  the 
circle  in  the  cylinder  whose 
diameter  is  /xv  :  the  circle  with 
the  diameter  £o  +  the  circle 


V-' 


y 

Fig.  3. 


with  the  diameter  7jy>;  hence 
the  circle  whose  diameter  is 
pv  will  in  its  present  position 
be  in  equilibrium  at  the  point 
a  with  the  two  circles  whose 
diameters  are  £o  and  -rrp  when  they  are  transferred  and  so  arranged 
on  the  scale-beam  at  the  point  a  that  6  is  the  center  of  gravity  of 
both  ;  and  6  is  the  center  of  gravity  of  the  two  circles  combined 
whose  diameters  are  |o  and  irp  when  their  position  is  changed, 
hence  6a:aa  —  the  circle  \vith  the  diameter  pv  :  the  two  circles  whose 
diameters  are  £o  and  vp.  In  the  same  way  it  can  be  shown  that 
if  another  straight  line  is  drawn  in  the  parallelogram  A£  II  e£  and  on 
this  line  last  drawn  a  plane  is  constructed  perpendicular  to  ay,  then 
likewise  the  circle  produced  in  the  cylinder  will  in  its  present  posi- 
tion be  in  equilibrium  at  the  point  a  with  the  two  circles  combined 


A  NEWLY  DISCOVERED  TREATISE  OF  ARCHIMEDES.     211 

which  have  been  produced  in  the  spheroid  and  in  the  cone  respec- 
tively when  they  are  so  transferred  to  the  point  0  on  the  scale-beam 
that  6  is  the  center  of  gravity  of  both.  Then  if  cylinder,  spheroid 
and  cone  are  filled  with  such  circles,  the  cylinder  in  its  present  posi- 
tion will  be  in  equilibrium  at  the  point  a  with  the  spheroid  +  the 
cone  if  they  are  transferred  and  so  arranged  on  the  scale-beam  at 
the  point  a  that  6  is  the  center  of  gravity  of  both.  Now  *  is  the 
center  of  gravity  of  the  cylinder,  but  6,  as  has  been  said,  is  the 
center  of  gravity  of  the  spheroid  and  cone  together.  Therefore 
6a:aK  =  cylinder  :  spheroid  +  cone.  But  aO  =  2aK,  hence  also  the 
cylinder  =  2  x  (spheroid  +  cone)  =  2  x  spheroid  +  2  x  cone.  But  the 
cylinder  =  3  x  cone,  hence  3  x  cone  =  2  x  cone  +  2  x  spheroid.  Subtract 
2  x  cone  from  both  sides ;  then  a  cone  whose  axes  form  the  triangle 
ae£  =  2  x  spheroid.  But  the  same  cone  =  8  cones  whose  axes  form 
the  Aa/3S;  hence  8  such  cones  =  2  x  spheroid,  4X  cone  =  spheroid; 
whence  it  follows  that  a  spheroid  is  four  times  as  great  as  a  cone 
whose  vertex  is  at  a,  and  whose  base  is  the  circle  on  the  diameter 
/?8  perpendicular  to  A.C,  and  one-half  the  spheroid  is  twice  as  great 
as  the  same  cone. 

In  the  parallelogram  A£  draw  the.  straight  lines  <j>x  and  \f/o>  1 1  ay 
through  the  points  /?  and  8  and  imagine  a  cylinder  whose  bases 
are  the  circles  on  the  diameters  $$  and  xw>  and  whose  axis  is  ay. 
Now  since  the  cylinder  whose  axes  form  the  parallelogram  <£<o  is 
twice  as  great  as  the  cylinder  whose  axes  form  the  parallelogram 
<j>8  because  their  bases  are  equal  but  the  axis  of  the  first  is  twice  as 
great  as  the  axis  of  the  second,  and  since  the  cylinder  whose  axes 
form  the  parallelogram  <£8  is  three  times  as  great  as  the  cone  whose 
vertex  is  at  a  and  whose  base  is  the  circle  on  the  diameter  (38  per- 
pendicular to  ay,  then  the  cylinder  whose  axes  form  the  parallelo- 
gram <f>M  is  six  times  as  great  as  the  aforesaid  cone.  But  it  has 
been  shown  that  the  spheroid  is  four  times  as  great  as  the  same 
cone,  hence  the  cylinder  is  one  and  one  half  times  as  great  as  the 
spheroid.  Q.  E.  D. 

IV. 

That  a  segment  of  a  right  conoid  cut  by  a  plane  perpendicular 
to  its  axis  is  one  and  one  half  times  as  great  as  the  cone  having 
the  same  base  and  axis  as  the  segment,  can  be  proved  by  the  same 
method  in  the  following  way : 

Let  a  right  conoid  be  cut  through  its  axis  by  a  plane  inter- 
secting the  surface  in  a  parabola  a(3y  [Fig.  4]  ;  let  it  be  also  cut 


212 


THE  MONIST. 


by  another  plane  perpendicular  to  the  axis,  and  let  their  common 
line  of  intersection  be  /3y.  Let  the  axis  of  the  segment  be  8a  and 
let  it  be  produced  to  6  so  that  Oa  =  a8-  Now  imagine  80  to  be  a 
scale-beam  with  its  center  at  a;  let  the  base  of  the  segment  be  the 
circle  on  the  diameter  /?y  perpendicular  to  a8 ;  imagine  a  cone  whose 
base  is  the  circle  on  the  diameter  /?y,  and  whose  vertex  is  at  a. 
Imagine  also  a  cylinder  whose  base  is  the  circle  on  the  diameter  /?y 
and  its  axis  a8,  and  in  the  parallelogram  let  a  straight  line  /AV  be 
drawn  1 1  /?y  and  on  pv  construct  a  plane  perpendicular  to  aS ;  it  will 
intersect  the  cylinder  in  a  circle  whose  diameter  is  /«/,  and  the  seg- 
ment of  the  right  conoid  in  a  circle  whose  diameter  is  |o.  Now 
since  /?ay  is  a  parabola,  aS  its  diameter  and  |<r  and  (38  its  ordinates, 
then  [Quadr.  parab.  3]  Sa :  ao-  =  £82 :  £<r*.  But  8a  =  a0,  therefore 
0a :  ao-  =  /wr2 :  a£2.  But  fwr2 :  a£2  =  the  circle  in  the  cylinder  whose 
diameter  is  /*v  :  the  circle  in  the  segment  of  the  right  conoid  whose 

diameter  is  £o,  hence  0a:ao-  =  the 
circle  with  the  diameter  pv  :  the 
circle  with  the  diameter  £o ;  there- 
fore the  circle  in  the  cylinder 
whose  diameter  is  pv  is  in  its 
present  position,  in  equilibrium 
at  the  point  a  with  the  circle 
whose  diameter  is  £o  if  this  be 
transferred  and  so  arranged  on 
the  scale-beam  at  6  that  0  is  its 
center  of  gravity.  And  the  cen- 
ter of  gravity  of  the  circle  whose 
diameter  is  fiv  is  at  a,  that  of  the 
circle  whose  diameter  is  £o  when 

its  position  is  changed,  is  0,  and  we  have  the  inverse  proportion, 
6a:aar  =  the  circle  with  the  diameter  /xv  :  the  circle  with  the  diameter 
£o.  In  the  same  way  it  can  be  shown  that  if  another  straight  line 
be  drawn  in  the  parallelogram  ey  1 1  fiy  the  circle  formed  in  the 
cylinder,  will  in  its  present  position  be  in  equilibrium  at  the  point  a 
with  that  formed  in  the  segment  of  the  right  conoid  if  the  latter 
is  so  transferred  to  0  on  the  scale-beam  that  6  is  its  center  of  grav- 
ity. Therefore  if  the  cylinder  and  the  segment  of  the  right  conoid 
are  filled  up  then  the  cylinder  in  its  present  position  will  be  in 
equilibrium  at  the  point  a  with  the  segment  of  the  right  conoid  if 
the  latter  is  transferred  and  so  arranged  on  the  scale-beam  at  0  that 
6  is  its  center  of  gravity.  And  since  these  magnitudes  are  in  equi- 


Fig. 


A  NEWLY  DISCOVERED  TREATISE  OF  ARCHIMEDES.     213 


librium  at  a,  and  K  is  the  center  of  gravity  of  the  cylinder,  if  a8  is 
bisected  at  K  and  6  is  the  center  of  gravity  of  the  segment  trans- 
ferred to  that  point,  then  we  have  the  inverse  proportion  0a:a/c  = 
cylinder  :  segment.  But  6a  =  2a/c  and  also  the  cylinder  =  2  x  segment. 
But  the  same  cylinder  is  3  times  as  great  as  the  cone  whose  base  is 
the  circle  on  the  diameter  /?y  and  whose  vertex  is  at  a ;  therefore  it 
is  clear  that  the  segment  is  one  and  one  half  times  as  great  as  the 
same  cone. 

v. 

That  the  center  of  gravity  of  a  segment  of  a  right  conoid  which 
is  cut  off  by  a  plane  perpendicular  to  the  axis,  lies  on  the  straight 
line  which  is  the  axis  of  the  segment  divided  in  such  a  way  that 
the  portion  at  the  vertex  is  twice  as  great  as  the  remainder,  may 
be  perceived  by  our  method  in 
the  following  way: 

Let  a  segment  of  a  right 
conoid  cut  off  by  a  plane  per- 
pendicular to  the  axis  be  cut  by 
another  plane  through  the  axis, 
and  let  the  intersection  in  its  sur- 
face be  the  parabola  afty  [Fig.  5] 
and  let  the  common  line  of  inter- 
section of  the  plane  which  cut  off 
the  segment  and  of  the  intersect- 
ing plane  be  /?y;  let  the  axis  of 
the  segment  and  the  diameter  of 
the  parabola  a(3y  be  a8;  produce 

8a  so  that  aO  =  a8  and  imagine  86  Fig.  5. 

to  be  a  scale-beam  with  its  center 

at  a ;  then  inscribe  a  cone  in  the  segment  with  the  lateral  boundaries 
fta  and  ay  and  in  the  parabola  draw  a  straight  line  £o  1 1  /?y  and  let 
it  cut  the  parabola  in  £  and  o  and  the  lateral  boundaries  of  the  cone 
in  TT  and  p.  Now  because  £0-  and  {38  are  drawn  perpendicular  to  the 
diameter  of  the  parabola,  Sa :  ao-  =  (382 :  fr2  [Quadr.  parab.  3].  But 
oa :  ao-  =  £8 :  TTCT  =  /382 :  (38  x  TTO-,  therefore  also  (382 :  £o-2  =  /382 : 138  x  M. 
Consequently  £o-2  =  08  x  TTO-  and  /38 :  |o-  =  |o- :  TTO-,  therefore  (38:™  = 
fr2 :  o-TT2.  But  (38 :  irv  -  8a :  ao-  =  Oa :  ao-,  therefore  also  Oa :  ao-  =  £a2 :  o-Tr2. 
On  £o  construct  a  plane  perpendicular  to  a8;  this  will  intersect  the 
segment  of  the  right  conoid  in  a  circle  whose  diameter  is  £o  and  the 
cone  in  a  circle  whose  diameter  is  TT/O.  Now  because  6a:acr  =  |<r2 :  o-Tr2 


214  THE  MONIST. 

and  £<T2:o-7r2  =  the  circle  with  the  diameter  £o  :  the  circle  with  the 
diameter  ?rp,  therefore  6a :  atr=the  circle  whose  diameter  is  £o :  the  circle 
whose  diameter  is  irp.  Therefore  the  circle  whose  diameter  is  £o 
will  in  its  present  position  be  in  equilibrium  at  the  point  a  with  the 
circle  whose  diameter  is  irp  when  this  is  so  transferred  to  0  on  the 
scale-beam  that  0  is  its  center  of  gravity.  Now  since  o-  is  the  center 
of  gravity  of  the  circle  whose  diameter  is  |o  in  its  present  position, 
and  6  is  the  center  of  gravity  of  the  circle  whose  diameter  is  TT/O 
if  its  position  is  changed  as  we  have  said,  and  inversely  0a :  cur  =  the 
circle  with  the  diameter  £o  :  the  circle  with  the  diameter  ?rp,  then 
the  circles  are  in  equilibrium  at  the  point  a.  In  the  same  way  it 
can  be  shown  that  if  another  straight  line  is  drawn  in  the  parabola 
1 1  /3y  and  on  this  line  last  drawn  a  plane  is  constructed  perpendicular 
to  a8,  the  circle  formed  in  the  segment  of  the  right  conoid  wTill  in 
its  present  position  be  in  equilibrium  at  the  point  a  with  the  circle 
formed  in  the  cone,  if  the  latter  is  transferred  and  so  arranged  on 
the  scale-beam  at  6  that  0  is  its  center  of  gravity.  Therefore  if  the 
segment  and  the  cone  are  rilled  up  with  circles,  all  circles  in  the 
segment  will  be  in  their  present  positions  in  equilibrium  at  the  point 
a  with  all  circles  of  the  cone  if  the  latter  are  transferred  and  so  ar- 
ranged on  the  scale-beam  at  the  point  6  that  0  is  their  center  of 
gravity.  Therefore  also  the  segment  of  the  right  conoid  in  its 
present  position  will  be  in  equilibrium  at  the  point  a  with  the  cone  if 
it  is  transferred  and  so  arranged  on  the  scale-beam  at  6  that  0  is  its 
center  of  gravity.  Now  because  the  center  of  gravity  of  both  mag- 
nitudes taken  together  is  a,  but  that  of  the  cone  alone  when  its 
position  is  changed  is  6,  then  the  center  of  gravity  of  the  remaining 
magnitude  lies  on  aO  extended  towards  a  if  OK  is  cut  off  in  such  a 
way  that  a0:a*  =  segment  :  cone.  But  the  segment  is  one  and  one 
half  the  size  of  the  cone,  consequently  aQ  =  %a/c  and  K,  the  center  of 
gravity  of  the  right  conoid,  so  divides  a8  that  the  portion  at  the 
vertex  of  the  segment  is  twice  as  large  as  the  remainder. 


VI. 

[The  center  of  gravity  of  a  hemisphere  is  so  divided  on  its 
axis]  that  the  portion  near  the  surface  of  the  hemisphere  is  in  the 
ratio  of  5  :  3  to  the  remaining  portion. 

Let  a  sphere  be  cut  by  a  plane  through  its  center  intersecting 
the  surface  in  the  circle  a(3y8  [Fig. 6], ay  and  (38  being  two  diameters 
of  the  circle  perpendicular  to  each  other.  Let  a  plane  be  con- 


A  NEWLY  DISCOVERED  TREATISE  OF  ARCHIMEDES.     215 


structed  on  /?8  perpendicular  to  ay.  Then  imagine  a  cone  whose  base 
is  the  circle  with  the  diameter  /38,  whose  vertex  is  at  a  and  its 
lateral  boundaries  are  J3a  and  aS ;  let  ya  be  produced  so  that  aO  -  ya, 
imagine  the  straight  line  0y  to  be  a  scale-beam  with  its  center  at  a 
and  in  the  semi-circle  /?a8  draw  a  straight  line  £o  1 1  /?8 ;  let  it  cut 
the  circumference  of  the  semicircle  in  £  and  o,  the  lateral  boundaries 
of  the  cone  in  TT  and  /o,  and  ay  in  €.  On  |o  construct  a  plane  perpen- 
dicular to  ae;  it  will  intersect  the  hemisphere  in  a  circle  with  the 
diameter  £o,  and  the  cone  in  a  circle  with  the  diameter  Trp.  Now 
because  ay :  ae  -  £a2 :  ae2  and  £a2  =  ae2  +  e£2  and  ae  =  eir,  therefore  ay :  ae 
=  £e2  +  €?r2 :  €7r2-  But  £e2  +  €?r2 1  €7r2  =  the  circle  with  the  diameter  £o  + 
the  circle  with  the  diameter  Trp :  the  circle  with  the  diameter  irp,  and 
ya  =  aO,  hence  6a:ae  =  the  circle  with  the  diameter  £o  +  the  circle  with 
the  diameter  Trp :  circle  with  the  diameter  Trp. 
Therefore  the  two  circles  whose  diameters 
are  £o  and  TT/O  in  their  present  position  are  in 
equilibrium  at  the  point  a  with  the  circle 
whose  diameter  is  irp  if  it  is  transferred  and 
so  arranged  at  6  that  6  is  its  center  of  gravity. 
Now  since  the  center  of  gravity  of  the  two 
circles  whose  diameters  are  £o  and  Trp  in  their 
present  position  [is  the  point  e,  but  of  the 
circle  whose  diameter  is  irp  when  its  position 
is  changed  is  the  point  6,  then  Oa :  ae  =  the 
circles  whose  diameters  are]  £o  [,  Trp:  the 
circle  whose  diameter  is  Trp.  In  the  same 
way  if  another  straight  line  in  the]  hemi- 
sphere /Ja8  [is  drawn  11/38  and  a  plane  is 
constructed]  perpendicular  to  [ay  the]  two 
[circles  produced  in  the  cone  and  in  the  hemi- 
sphere are  in  their  position]  in  equilibrium  at  a  [with  the  circle 
which  is  produced  in  the  cone]  if  it  is  transferred  and  arranged  on 
the  scale  at  0.  [Now  if]  the  hemisphere  and  the  cone  [are  filled 
up  with  circles  then  all  circles  in  the]  hemisphere  and  those  [in  the 
cone]  will  in  their  present  position  be  in  equilibrium  [with  all 
circles]  in  the  cone,  if  these  are  transferred  and  so  arranged  on  the 
scale-beam  at  0  that  6  is  their  center  of  gravity;  [therefore  the 
hemisphere  and  cone  also]  are  in  their  position  [in  equilibrium  at 
the  point  a]  with  the  cone  if  it  is  transferred  and  so  arranged  [on 
the  scale-beam  at  6]  that  0  is  its  center  of  gravity. 


2l6 


THE  MONIST. 


VII. 

By  [this  method]  it  may  also  be  perceived  that  [any  segment 
whatever]  of  a  sphere  bears  the  same  ratio  to  a  cone  having  the 
same  [base]  and  axis  [that  the  radius  of  the  sphere  +  the  axis  of  the 

opposite  segment  :  the  axis  of  the  opposite  segment] 

and  [Fig.  7]  on  juv  construct  a  plane  perpendicular  to  ay;  it  will 
intersect  the  cylinder  in  a  circle  whose  diameter  is  pv,  the  segment 
of  the  sphere  in  a  circle  whose  diameter  is  |o  and  the  cone  whose 
base  is  the  circle  on  the  diameter  f£  and  whose  vertex  is  at  a  in 

a  circle  whose  diameter 
is  TT/O.  In  the  same  way 
as  before  it  may  be 
shown  that  a  circle  whose 
diameter  is  \w  is  in  its 
present  position  in  equi- 
librium at  a  with  the  two 
circles  [whose  diameters 
are  £o  and  -rrp  if  they  are 
so  arranged  on  the  scale- 
beam  that  0  is  their  cen- 
ter of  gravity.  [And  the 
same  can  be  proved  of 
all  corresponding  cir- 
cles.] Now  since  cylin- 
der, cone,  and  spherical 
segment  are  filled  up 
with  such  circles,  the 
cylinder  in  its  present 
position  [will  be  in  equilibrium  at  a]  with  the  cone  +  the  spherical 
segment  if  they  are  transferred  and  attached  to  the  scale-beam  at  6. 
Divide  arj  at  <£  and  x  so  that  a^  =  xn  and  ??<£  =  Vsa^  ',  then  x  will  be  the 
center  of  gravity  of  the  cylinder  because  it  is  the  center  of  the  axis 
ar).  Now  because  the  above  mentioned  bodies  are  in  equilibrium 
at  a,  cylinder  :  cone  with  the  diameter  of  its  base  e£  +  the  spherical 
segment  (3a8  =  Ba :  a^.  And  because  r)a  =  3^  then  [777  x  rj<f>]=  %arj  xr/y. 
Therefore  also  -yr}Xr)<j>  =  %/fy2 

vna. 

In  the  same  way  it  may  be  perceived  that  any  segment  of  an 
ellipsoid  cut  off  by  a  perpendicular  plane,  bears  the  same  ratio  to 


1. 


A  NEWLY  DISCOVERED  TREATISE  OF  ARCHIMEDES. 


a  cone  having  the  same  base  and  the  same  axis,  as  half  of  the  axis 
of  the  ellipsoid  +  the  axis  of  the  opposite  segment  bears  to  the  axis 
of  the  opposite  segment  ..................................... 


VIII. 


produce  ay  [Fig.  8]  making  ad  =  ay  and  y£  =  the  radius  of  the  sphere ; 
imagine  yO  to  be  a  scale-beam  with  a  center  at  a,  and  in  the  plane 
cutting  off  the  segment  inscribe  a  circle  with  its  center  at  ry  and  its 
radius  =  a>/;  on  this  circle  construct  a  cone  with  its  vertex  at  a  and 
its  lateral  boundaries  at  and  a£.  Then  draw  a  straight  line  K\  1 1  e£ ; 
let  it  cut  the  circumference  of  the 
segment  at  K  and  A,  the  lateral  bound- 
aries of  the  cone  ae£  at  p  and  o  and  ay 
at  TT.  Now  because  ay :  an  =  a*2 :  an2 
and  Kd2  =  aTr2  +  7TK2  and  air2  =  no2  (  since 

also  ar)2  =  €f)2),  then  ya :  an  =  K7r2  +  Tro2  : 

07T2.          But      K7T2  +  7T02  I  7TO2  =     tllC      Circle 

with  the  diameter  *A.  +  the  circle  with 

the  diameter  op: the  circle  with  the 

diameter  op  and  ya  =  ad ;    therefore 

6a:a7r=  the  circle  with  the  diameter 

KA  +  the  circle  with  the  diameter  op : 

the  circle  with  the  diameter  op.    Now 

since  the  circle  with  the  diameter  KA  + 

the  circle  with  the  diameter  op :  the 

circle  with  the  diameter  op  =  a#:7ra, 

let  the  circle  with  the  diameter  op  be 

transferred  and  so  arranged  on  the 

scale-beam  at  6  that  0  is  its  center  of 

gravity ;  then  Oa:a-n-  =  the  circle  with 

the  diameter  KA+  the  circle  with  the  diameter  op  in  their  present 

positions  :  the  circle  with  the  diameter  op  if  it  is  transferred  and 

so  arranged  on  the  scale-beam  at  0  that  6  is  its  center  of  gravity. 

Therefore  the  circles  in  the  segment  (3aB  and  in  the  cone  a«£  are  in 

equilibrium  at  a  with  that  in  the  cone  ae£.     And  in  the  same  way 

all  circles  in  the  segment  /3a8  and  in  the  cone  af£  in  their  present 

positions  are  in  equilibrium  at  the  point  a  with  all  circles  in  the 

cone  ae£  if  they  are  transferred  and  so  arranged  on  the  scale-beam 

at  6  that  9  is  their  center  of  gravity ;  then  also  the  spherical  segment 


Fig.  8. 


2l8  THE  MONIST. 

a/38  and  the  cone  oe£  in  their  present  positions  are  in  equilibrium 
at  the  point  a  with  the  cone  ea£  if  it  is  transferred  and  so  arranged 
on  the  scale-beam  at  6  that  6  is  its  center  of  gravity.  Let  the  cyl- 
inder fjw  equal  the  cone  whose  base  is  the  circle  with  the  diameter 
e£  and  whose  vertex  is  at  a  and  let  077  be  so  divided  at  <f>  that  077  =  4^77 ; 
then  <£  is  the  center  of  gravity  of  the  cone  ea£  as  has  been  previously 
proved.  Moreover  let  the  cylinder  pv  be  so  cut  by  a  perpendicularly 
intersecting  plane  that  the  cylinder  ju,  is  in  equilibrium  with  the 
cone  eo£.  Now  since  the  segment  a/38  +  the  cone  ea£  in  their  present 
positions  are  in  equilibrium  at  a  with  the  cone  ea£  if  it  is  trans- 
ferred and  so  arranged  on  the  scale-beam  at  9  that  0  is  its  center 
of  gravity,  and  cylinder  /uv  =  cone  co£  and  the  two  cylinders  p  +  v 
are  moved  to  0  and  /xv  is  in  equilibrium  with  both  bodies,  then  will 
also  the  cylinder  v  be  in  equilibrium  with  the  segment  of  the  sphere 
at  the  point  a.  And  since  the  spherical  segment  /3a8  :  the  cone  whose 
base  is  the  circle  with  the  diameter  /28,  and  whose  vertex  is  at  a  = 
£77:777  (for  this  has  previously  been  proved  [De  sph.  et  cyl.  II,  2 
Coroll.])  and  cone  /3a8  :  cone  ea£  =  the  circle  with  the  diameter 
/?8  :  the  circle  with  the  diameter  c£  =  fir)2 :  ye2,  and  /fy2  =  777  x  -qa, 
ye2  -  rja2,  and  777  x  770 :  rja2  =  777 : 7?a,  therefore  cone  /3a8  :  cone  ea£  = 
777:770,.  But  we  have  shown  that  cone  (3aS  :  segment  /3a8  =  777 : 77!, 
hence  8t'  to-ov  segment  /2a8  :  cone  ea£  =  fy :  rja.  And  because  ax".  x*?  = 
770  +  4*77 :  o-rj  +  2rjy  so  inversely  >?x  •  Xa  =  ^717  ~*~  77a  •  4y77  +  77a  <*nd  by  addi- 
tion 7701 :  ax  "=  6777  +  2770, :  770,  +  4777.  But  77^  =  %( 6777  +  2770)  and  7<£c= 
^4  (4777  +  770,)  ;  for  that  is  evident.  Hence  770. :  a^  =  £77 :  y<f>,  consequently 
also  £77 :  rja  -  7</> :  xa-  But  it  was  also  demonstrated  that  £77:770.=  the 
segment  whose  vertex  is  at  a  and  whose  base  is  the  circle  with  the 
diameter  (38  :  the  cone  whose  vertex  is  at  a  and  whose  base  is  the 
circle  with  the  diameter  e£;  hence  segment  /?a8  :  cone  ea£  =  7<£:xa- 
And  since  the  cylinder  /*  is  in  equilibrium  with  the  cone  ea£  at  a,  and  6 
is  the  center  of  gravity  of  the  cylinder  while  <j>  is  that  of  the  cone 
ea£,  then  cone  ea£  :  cylinder  /*  =  Oa :  a^>  =  ya :  a<£.  But  cylinder  pv  = 
cone  ea£ ;  hence  by  subtraction,  cylinder  p  :  cylinder  v  -  o</> :  y$.  And 
cylinder  pv  =  cone  ea£ ;  hence  cone  ea£  :  cylinder  v  =  ya:y(j>  =  0a: y<f>. 
But  it  was  also  demonstrated  that  segment  £08  :  cone  ea£  =  7<£:xa; 
hence  8t'  LVOV  segment  /?a8  :  cylinder  v  —  £a :  ax-  And  it  was  demon- 
strated that  segment  /?o8  is  in  equilibrium  at  a  with  the  cylinder  v 
and  6  is  the  center  of  gravity  of  the  cylinder  v,  consequently  the 
point  x  is  als°  the  center  of  gravity  of  the  segment  /?o8. 


A  NEWLY  DISCOVERED  TREATISE  OF  ARCHIMEDES.     2IQ 


IX. 

In  a  similar  way  it  can  also  be  perceived  that  the  center  of  grav- 
ity of  any  segment  of  an  ellipsoid  lies  on  the  straight  line  which  is 
the  axis  of  the  segment  so  divided  that  the  portion  at  the  vertex 
of  the  segment  bears  the  same  ratio  to  the  remaining  portion  as  the 
axis  of  the  segment  +4  times  the  axis  of  the  opposite  segment 
bears  to  the  axis  of  the  segment  +  twice  the  axis  of  the  opposite 
segment. 

x. 

It  can  also  be  seen  by  this  method  that  [a  segment  of  a  hyper- 
boloid]  bears  the  same  ratio  to  a  cone  having  the  same  base  and  axis 
as  the  segment,  that  the  axis  of  the  segment  +  3  times  the  addition 
to  the  axis  bears  to  the  axis  of  the  segment  of  the  hyperboloid  +  twice 
its  addition  [De  Conoid.  25]  ;  and  that  the  center  of  gravity  of  the 
hyperboloid  so  divides  the  axis  that  the  part  at  the  vertex  bears  the 
same  ratio  to  the  rest  that  three  times  the  axis  +  eight  times  the 
addition  to  the  axis  bears  to  the  axis  of  the  hyperboloid  +  4  times 
the  addition  to  the  axis,  and  many  other  points  which  I  will  leave 
aside  since  the  method  has  been  made  clear  by  the  examples  already 
given  and  only  the  demonstrations  of  the  above  given  theorems  re- 
main to  be  stated. 

XI. 

When  in  a  perpendicular  prism  with  square  bases  a  cylinder  is 
inscribed  whose  bases  lie  in  opposite  squares  and  whose  curved 
surface  touches  the  four  other  parallelograms,  and  when  a  plane  is 
passed  through  the  center  of  the  circle  which  is  the  base  of  the 
cylinder  and  one  side  of  the  opposite  square,  then  the  body  which 
is  cut  off  by  this  plane  [from  the  cylinder]  will  be  %  of  the  entire 
prism.  This  can  be  perceived  through  the  present  method  and 
when  it  is  so  warranted  we  will  pass  over  to  the  geometrical  proof 
of  it. 

Imagine  a  perpendicular  prism  with  square  bases  and  a  cyl- 
inder inscribed  in  the  prism  in  the  way  we  have  described.  Let  the 
prism  be  cut  through  the  axis  by  a  plane  perpendicular  to  the  plane 
which  cuts  off  the  section  of  the  cylinder;  this  will  intersect  the 
prism  containing  the  cylinder  in  the  parallelogram  a/?  [Fig.  9]  and 
the  common  intersecting  line  of  the  plane  which  cuts  off  the  section 
of  the  cylinder  and  the  plane  lying  through  the  axis  perpendicular 


22O 


THE  MONIST. 


to  the  one  cutting  off  the  section  of  the  cylinder  will  be  /?y ;  let  the 
axis  of  the  cylinder  and  the  prism  be  y8  which  is  bisected  at  right 
angles  by  e£  and  on  e£  let  a  plane  be  constructed  perpendicular  to 
y8.  This  will  intersect  the  prism  in  a  square  and  the  cylinder  in  a 
circle. 


7_2 

\ 

X 

V  > 

/ 

ff 

o 
Fig.  W. 

y 

z.  9. 


Now  let  the  intersection  of  the  prism  be  the  square  /xv  [Fig.  10], 
that  of  the  cylinder,  the  circle  £07173  and  let  the  circle  touch  the  sides 
of  the  square  at  the  points  £,  o,  TT  and  p ;  let  the  common  line  of 
intersection  of  the  plane  cutting  off  the  cylinder-section  and  that 
passing  through  e£  perpendicular  to  the  axis  of  the  cylinder,  be  K\ ; 
this  line  is  bisected  by  7r0|.  In  the  semicircle  oirp  draw  a  straight 
line  O-T  perpendicular  to  TT^,  on  or  construct  a  plane  perpendicular 
to  |?r  and  produce  it  to  both  sides  of  the  plane  enclosing  the  circle 
IOTT/O;  this  will  intersect  the  half-cylinder  whose  base  is  the  semi- 
circle oTrp  and  whose  altitude  is  the  axis  of  the  prism,  in  a  parallelo- 
gram one  side  of  which  =  or  and  the  other  =  the  vertical  boundary 
of  the  cylinder,  and  it  will  intersect  the  cylinder-section  likewise 
in  a  parallelogram  of  which  one  side  is  or  and  the  other  w  [Fig.  9]  ; 
and  accordingly  w  will  be  drawn  in  the  parallelogram  Be  1 1  £w  and 
will  cut  off  «  =  TTX-  Now  because  ey  is  a  parallelogram  and  i/t  1 1  0y, 
and  d  and  (3y  cut  the  parallels,  therefore  cO :  OL  =  <oy :  yv  =  (3<a :  w.  But 
/?w :  w  =  parallelogram  in  the  half-cylinder  :  parallelogram  in  the 
cylinder-section,  therefore  both  parallelograms  have  the  same  side 
(TT  ;  and  cO  =  OTT,  iO  =  \6\  and  since  irO  =  0£  therefore  6g:0x=  paral- 
lelogram in  half-cylinder  :  parallelogram  in  the  cylinder-section. 
Imagine  the  parallelogram  in  the  cylinder-section  transferred  and 
so  brought  to  £  that  |  is  its  center  of  gravity,  and  further  imagine 


A  NEWLY  DISCOVERED  TREATISE  OF  ARCHIMEDES.     221 


TT£  to  be  a  scale-beam  with  its  center  at  9 ;  then  the  parallelogram  in 
the  half-cylinder  in  its  present  position  is  in  equilibrium  at  the 
point  6  with  the  parallelogram  in  the  cylinder-section  when  it  is  trans- 
ferred and  so  arranged  on  the  scale-beam  at  £  that  £  is  its  center  of 
gravity.  And  since  x  is  tne  center  of  gravity  in  the  parallelogram 
in  the  half-cylinder,  and  £  that  of  the  parallelogram  in  the  cylinder- 
section  when  its  position  is  changed,  and  £0:6x=  tne  parallelogram 
whose  center  of  gravity  is  x  :  tne  parallelogram  whose  center  of 
gravity  is  £,  then  the  parallelogram  whose  center  of  gravity  is  x 
will  be  in  equilibrium  at  0  with  the  parallelogram  whose  center  of 
gravity  is  £.  In  this  way  it  can  be  proved  that  if  another  straight 
line  is  drawn  in  the  semicircle  oirp  perpendicular  to  irO  and  on  this 
straight  line  a  plane  is  constructed  perpendicular  to  nO  and  is  pro- 
duced towards  both  sides  of  the  plane  in  which  the  circle  £o7iy>  lies, 
then  the  parallelogram  formed  in  the  half-cylinder  in  its  present 
position  will  be  in  equilibrium  at  the  point  0  with  the  parallelogram 
formed  in  the  cylinder-section  if  this  is  transferred  and  so  arranged 
on  the  scale-beam  at  £  that  £  is  its  center  of  gravity ;  therefore  also 
all  parallelograms  in  the  half-cylinder  in  their  present  positions  will 
be  in  equilibrium  at  the  point  6  with  all  parallelograms  of  the 
cylinder-section  if  they  are  transferred  and  attached  to  the  scale-beam 
at  the  point  £;  consequently  also  the  half-cylinder  in  its  present 
position  will  be  in  equilibrium  at  the  point  0  with  the  cylinder- 
section  if  it  is  transferred  and  so  arranged  on  the  scale-beam  at  £ 
that  |  is  its  center  of  gravity. 

XII. 

Let  the  parallelogram  \w  be  perpendicular  to  the  axis  [of  the 
circle]  £o  [irp]  [Fig.  n].  Draw  Op  and 
Or)  and  erect  upon  them  two  planes  per- 
pendicular  to  the  plane  in  which  the 
semicircle  onp  lies  and  extend  these 
planes  on  both  sides.  The  result  is  a 
prism  whose  base  is  a  triangle  similar 
to  Ofjirj  and  whose  altitude  is  equal  to 
the  axis  of  the  cylinder,  and  this  prism 
is  %  of  the  entire  prism  which  contains 
the  cylinder.  In  the  semicircle  oirp  and 
in  the  square  juv  draw  two  straight  lines  Fig.  11. 

K\  and  TV  at  equal  distances  from  «•£; 
these  will  cut  the  circumference  of  the  semicircle  oirp  at  the  points 


I 


222 


THE  MONIST. 


K  and  T,  the  diameter  op  at  <r  and  £  and  the  straight  lines  fry  and  6p 
at  <£  and  x-  Upon  *A  and  TV  construct  two  planes  perpendicular 
to  op  and  extend  them  towards  both  sides  of  the  plane  in  which  lies 
the  circle  £OTT/O;  they  will  intersect  the  half-cylinder  whose  base  is 
the  semicircle  oirp  and  whose  altitude  is  that  of  the  cylinder,  in  a 
parallelogram  one  side  of  which  =KO~  and  the  other  =  the  axis  of 
the  cylinder;  and  they  will  intersect  the  prism  %*  likewise  in  a 
parallelogram  one  side  of  which  is  equal  to  AX  and  the  other  equal 
to  the  axis,  and  in  the  same  way  the  half-cylinder  in  a  parallelogram 
one  side  of  which  =  T£  and  the  other  =  the  axis  of  the  cylinder,  and 
the  prism  in  a  parallelogram  one  side  of  which  =wf>  and  the  other 
=  the  axis  of  the  cylinder. . 


XIII. 

Let  the  square  aftyo  [Fig.  12]  be  the  base  of  a  perpendicular 
prism  with  square  bases  and  let  a  cylinder  be  inscribed  in  the  prism 

whose  base  is  the  circle  e£?/0  which 
touches  the  sides  of  the  parallelogram 
apyo  at  e,  £,  rj  and  6.  Pass  a  plane 
through  its  center  and  the  side  in  the 
square  opposite  the  square  a/3y8  corre- 
sponding to  the  side  78 ;  this  will  cut 
off  from  the  whole  prism  a  second  prism 
which  is  %  the  size  of  the  whole  prism 
and  which  will  be  bounded  by  three 
parallelograms  and  two  opposite  tri- 
angles. In  the  semicircle  cfy  describe 
a  parabola  whose  origin  is  ye  and  whose 

axis  is  £*,  and  in  the  parallelogram  oy  draw  /«/  i  I  K£  ;  this  will  cut 
the  circumference  of  the  semicircle  at  £,  the  parabola  at  A,  and 
fjiVxv\  =  v£2  (for  this  is  evident  [Apollonios,  Con.  I,  n]).  Therefore 
fiv:v\  =  Krj2:\o-2.  Upon  (JLV  construct  a  plane  parallel  to  07;  this  will 
intersect  the  prism  cut  off  from  the  whole  prism  in  a  right-angled 
triangle  one  side  of  which  is  /xv  and  the  other  a  straight  line  in  the 
plane  upon  78  perpendicular  to  78  at  v  and  equal  to  the  axis  of  the 
cylinder,  but  whose  hypotenuse  is  in  the  intersecting  plane.  It  will 
intersect  the  portion  which  is  cut  off  from  the  cylinder  by  the  plane 
passed  through  erj  and  the  side  of  the  square  opposite  the  side  78 
in  a  right-angled  triangle  one  side  of  which  is  /A£  and  the  other 
a  straight  line  drawn  in  the  surface  of  the  cylinder  perpendicular 


£ 

Fig.  12. 


A  NEWLY  DISCOVERED  TREATISE  OF  ARCHIMEDES.     223 

to  the  plane  KV,  and  the  hypotenuse 

and  all  the  triangles  in  the  prism  :  all  the  triangles  in  the  cylinder- 
section  =  all  the  straight  lines  in  the  parallelogram  BYJ :  all  the  straight 
lines  between  the  parabola  and  the  straight  line  ery.  And  the  prism 
consists  of  the  triangles  in  the  prism,  the  cylinder-section  of  those 
in  the  cylinder-section,  the  parallelogram  Sr;  of  the  straight  lines 
in  the  parallelogram  8rj  \  I  K£  and  the  segment  of  the  parabola  of  the 
straight  lines  cut  off  by  the  parabola  and  the  straight  line  ery ;  hence 
prism  :  cylinder-section  =  parallelogram  778  :  segment  e£rj  that  is 
bounded  by  the  parabola  and  the  straight  line  er/.  But  the  parallelo- 
gram Sri  =  %  the  segment  bounded  by  the  parabola  and  the  straight 
line  cr)  as  indeed  has  been  shown  in  the  previously  published  work, 
hence  also  the  prism  is  equal  to  one  and  one  half  times  the  cylinder- 
section.  Therefore  when  the  cylinder-section  -  2,  the  prism  =  3  and 
the  whole  prism  containing  the  cylinder  equals  12,  because  it  is  four 
times  the  size  of  the  other  prism ;  hence  the  cylinder-section  is  equal 
to  %  of  the  prism,  Q.  E.  D. 

XIV. 

[Inscribe  a  cylinder  in]  a  perpendicular  prism  with  square 
bases  [and  let  it  be  cut  by  a  plane  passed  through  the  center  of  the 
base  of  the  cylinder  and  one  side  of  the  opposite  square.]  Then  this 
plane  will  cut  off  a  prism  from  the  whole  prism  and  a  portion  of 
the  cylinder  from  the  cylinder.  It  may  be  proved  that  the  portion 
cut  off  from  the  cylinder  by  the  plane  is  one-sixth  of  the  whole 
prism.  But  first  we  will  prove  that  it  is  possible  to  inscribe  a  solid 
figure  in  the  cylinder-section  and  to  circumscribe  another  composed 
of  prisms  of  equal  altitude  and  with  similar  triangles  as  bases,  so 
that  the  circumscribed  figure  exceeds  the  inscribed  less  than  any 
given  magnitude 

But  it  has  been  shown  that  the  prism  cut  off  by  the  inclined  plane 
<%  the  body  inscribed  in  the  cylinder-section.  Now  the  prism 
cut  off  by  the  inclined  plane  :  the  body  inscribed  in  the  cylinder- 
section  =  parallelogram  Sr?  :  the  parallelograms  which  are  inscribed 
in  the  segment  bounded  by  the  parabola  and  the  straight  line  erj. 
Hence  the  parallelogram  8r/<%  the  parallelograms  in  the  segment 
bounded  by  the  parabola  and  the  straight  line  er/.  But  this  is  im- 
possible because  we  have  shown  elsewhere  that  the  parallelogram 
8r/  is  one  and  one  half  times  the  segment  bounded  by  the  parabola 

and  the  straight  line  07,  consequently  is 

not  greater 


224  THE   MONIST. 

And  all  prisms  in  the  prism  cut  off  by  the  inclined  plane:  all 
prisms  in  the  figure  described  around  the  cylinder-section  =  all 
parallelograms  in  the  parallelogram  fy  :  all  parallelograms  in  the 
figure  which  is  described  around  the  segment  bounded  by  the 
parabola  and  the  straight  line  e*j,  i.  e.,  the  prism  cut  off  by  the  in- 
clined plane  :  the  figure  described  around  the  cylinder- section  = 
parallelogram  Srj  :  the  figure  bounded  by  the  parabola  and  the 
straight  line  erj.  But  the  prism  cut  off  by  the  inclined  plane  is 
greater  than  one  and  one  half  times  the  solid  figure  circumscribed 
around  the  cylinder-section 


A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  HEIBERG  MANU- 
SCRIPT OF  ARCHIMEDES. 

IF  there  ever  was  a  case  of  appropriateness  in  discovery, 
the  finding  of  this  manuscript  in  the  summer  of  1906 
was  one.  In  the  first  place  it  was  appropriate  that  the  dis- 
covery should  be  made  in  Constantinople,  since  it  was  here 
that  the  West  received  its  first  manuscripts  of  the  other  ex- 
tant works,  nine  in  number,  of  the  great  Syracusan.  It  was 
furthermore  appropriate  that  the. discovery  should  be  made 
by  Professor  Heiberg,  facilis  princeps  among  all  workers 
in  the  field  of  editing  the  classics  of  Greek  mathematics, 
and  an  indefatigable  searcher  of  the  libraries  of  Europe 
for  manuscripts  to  aid  him  in  perfecting  his  labors.  And 
finally  it  was  most  appropriate  that  this  work  should  ap- 
pear at  a  time  when  the  affiliation  of  pure  and  applied 
mathematics  is  becoming  so  generally  recognized  all  over 
the  world.  We  are  sometimes  led  to  feel,  in  considering 
isolated  cases,  that  the  great  contributors  of  the  past  have 
worked  in  the  field  of  pure  mathematics  alone,  and  the 
saying  of  Plutarch  that  Archimedes  felt  that  "every  kind 
of  art  connected  with  daily  needs  was  ignoble  and  vulgar"1 
may  have  strengthened  this  feeling.  It  therefore  assists 
us  in  properly  orientating  ourselves  to  read  another  treat- 
ise from  the  greatest  mathematician  of  antiquity  that  sets 
clearly  before  us  his  indebtedness  to  the  mechanical  appli- 
cations of  his  subject. 

1  Marcellus,  17. 


226  THE  MONIST. 

Not  the  least  interesting  of  the  passages  in  the  manu- 
script is  the  first  line,  the  greeting  to  Eratosthenes.  It  is 
well  known,  on  the  testimony  of  Diodoros  his  countryman, 
that  Archimedes  studied  in  Alexandria,  and  the  latter  fre- 
quently makes  mention  of  Konon  of  Samos  whom  he  knew 
there,  probably  as  a  teacher,  and  to  whom  he  was  indebted 
for  the  suggestion  of  the  spiral  that  bears  his  name.  It  is 
also  related,  this  time  by  Proclos,  that  Eratosthenes  was  a 
contemporary  of  Archimedes,  and  if  the  testimony  of  so 
late  a  writer  as  Tzetzes,  who  lived  in  the  twelfth  century, 
may  be  taken  as  valid,  the  former  was  eleven  years  the 
junior  of  the  great  Sicilian.  Until  now,  however,  we  have 
had  nothing  definite  to  show  that  the  two  were  ever  ac- 
quainted. The  great  Alexandrian  savant, — poet,  geog- 
rapher, arithmetician, — affectionately  called  by  the  stu- 
dents Pentathlos,  the  champion  in  five  sports,2  selected  by 
Ptolemy  Euergetes  to  succeed  his  master,  Kallimachos  the 
poet,  as  head  of  the  great  Library, — this  man,  the  most 
renowned  of  his  time  in  Alexandria,  could  hardly  have 
been  a  teacher  of  Archimedes,  nor  yet  the  fellow  student  of 
one  who  was  so  much  his  senior.  It  is  more  probable  that 
they  were  friends  in  the  later  days  when  Archimedes  was 
received  as  a  savant  rather  than  as  a  learner,  and  this  is 
borne  out  by  the  statement  at  the  close  of  proposition  I 
which  refers  to  one  of  his  earlier  works,  showing  that  this 
particular  treatise  was  a  late  one.  This  reference  being 
to  one  of  the  two  works  dedicated  to  Dositheos  of  Kolonos,3 
and  one  of  these  (De  lineis  spiralibus)  referring  to  an 
earlier  treatise  sent  to  Konon,4  we  are  led  to  believe  that 
this  was  one  of  the  latest  works  of  Archimedes  and  that 
Eratosthenes  was  a  friend  of  his  mature  years,  although 

2  His  nickname  of  Beta  is  well  known,  possibly  because  his  lecture  room 
was  number  2. 

8  We  know  little  of  his  works,  none  of  which  are  extant.  Geminos  and 
Ptolemy  refer  to  certain  observations  made  by  him  in  200  B.  C,  twelve  years 
after  the  death  of  Archimedes.  Pliny  also  mentions  him. 


A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  HEIBERG  MANUSCRIPT.      22J 

one  of  long  standing.  The  statement  that  the  preliminary 
propositions  were  sent  "some  time  ago"  bears  out  this  idea 
of  a  considerable  duration  of  friendship,  and  the  idea  that 
more  or  less  correspondence  had  resulted  from  this  com- 
munication may  be  inferred  by  the  statement  that  he  saw, 
as  he  had  previously  said,  that  Eratosthenes  was  "a  capable 
scholar  and  a  prominent  teacher  of  philosophy,"  and  also 
that  he  understood  "how  to  value  a  mathematical  method 
of  investigation  when  the  opportunity  offered."  We  have, 
then,  new  light  upon  the  relations  between  these  two  men, 
the  leaders  among  the  learned  of  their  day. 

A  second  feature  of  much  interest  in  the  treatise  is  the 
intimate  view  that  we  have  into  the  workings  of  the  mind 
of  the  author.  It  must  always  be  remembered  that  Archi- 
medes was  primarily  a  discoverer,  and  not  primarily  a  com- 
piler as  were  Euclid,  Apollonios,  and  Nicomachos.  There- 
fore to  have  him  follow  up  his  first  communication  of  theo- 
rems to  Eratosthenes  by  a  statement  of  his  mental  proces- 
ses in  reaching  his  conclusions  is  not  merely  a  contribution 
to  mathematics  but  one  to  education  as  well.  Particularly 
is  this  true  in  the  following  statement,  which  may  well  be 
kept  in  mind  in  the  present  day:  "I  have  thought  it  well 
to  analyse  and  lay  down  for  you  in  this  same  book  a  pecu- 
liar method  by  means  of  which  it  will  be  possible  for  you 
to  derive  instruction  as  to  how  certain  mathematical  ques- 
tions may  be  investigated  by  means  of  mechanics.  And  I 
am  convinced  that  this  is  equally  profitable  in  demonstrat- 
ing a  proposition  itself;  for  much  that  was  made  evident 
to  me  through  the  medium  of  mechanics  was  later  proved 
by  means  of  geometry,  because  the  treatment  by  the  former 
method  had  not  yet  been  established  by  way  of  a  demonstra- 
tion. For  of  course  it  is  easier  to  establish  a  proof  if  one 
has  in  this  way  previously  obtained  a  conception  of  the 
questions,  than  for  him  to  seek  it  without  such  a  prelim- 
inary notion ....  Indeed  I  assume  that  some  one  among  the 


228  THE  MONIST. 

investigators  of  to-day  or  in  the  future  will  discover  by  the 
method  here  set  forth  still  other  propositions  which  have 
not  yet  occurred  to  us."  Perhaps  in  all  the  history  of 
mathematics  no  such  prophetic  truth  was  ever  put  into 
words.  It  would  almost  seem  as  if  Archimedes  must  have 
seen  as  in  a  vision  the  methods  of  Galileo,  Cavalieri,  Pascal, 
Newton,  and  many  of  the  other  great  makers  of  the  mathe- 
matics of  the  Renaissance  and  the  present  time. 

The  first  proposition  concerns  the  quadrature  of  the 
parabola,  a  subject  treated  at  length  in  one  of  his  earlier 
communications  to  Dositheos.5  He  gives  a  digest  of  the 
treatment,  but  with  the  warning  that  the  proof  is  not  com- 
plete, as  it  is  in  his  special  work  upon  the  subject.  He  has, 
in  fact,  summarized  propositions  VII-XVII  of  his  com- 
munication to  Dositheos,  omitting  the  geometric  treat- 
ment of  propositions  XVIII-XXIV.  One  thing  that  he 
does  not  state,  here  or  in  any  of  his  works,  is  where  the 
idea  of  center  of  gravity6  started.  It  was  certainly  a  com- 
mon notion  in  his  day,  for  he  often  uses  it  without  defining 
it.  It  appears  in  Euclid's7  time,  but  how  much  earlier  we 
cannot  as  yet  say. 

Proposition  II  states  no  new  fact.  Essentially  it  means 
that  if  a  sphere,  cylinder,  and  cone  (always  circular)  have 
the  same  radius,  r,  and  the  altitude  of  the  cone  is  r  and  that 
of  the  cylinder  2r,  then  the  volumes  will  be  as  4  :  I  :  6, 
which  is  true,  since  they  are  respectively  %7rr3,  %7rr3,  and 
27rr3.  The  interesting  thing,  however,  is  the  method  pur- 
sued, the  derivation  of  geometric  truths  from  principles 
of  mechanics.  There  is,  too,  in  every  sentence,  a  little 
suggestion  of  Cavalieri,  an  anticipation  by  nearly  two  thou- 
sand years  of  the  work  of  the  greatest  immediate  precursor 
of  Newton.  And  the  geometric  imagination  that  Archi- 


8  Terpaywviffftbs 
6  K«Wpa  jSapwv,  for  "barycentric"  is  a  very  old  term. 

T  At  any  rate  in  the  anonymous  fragment  De  levi  et  ponder  oso,  sometimes 
attributed  to  him. 


A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  IIEIBERG  MANUSCRIPT.      22Q 

medes  shows  in  the  last  sentence  is  also  noteworthy  as  one 
of  the  interesting  features  of  this  work:  "After  I  had  thus 
perceived  that  a  sphere  is  four  times  as  large  as  the  cone.  .  . 
it  occurred  to  me  that  the  surface  of  a  sphere  is  four  times 
as  great  as  its  largest  circle,  in  which  I  proceeded  from  the 
idea  that  just  as  a  circle  is  equal  to  a  triangle  whose  base  is 
the  periphery  of  the  circle,  and  whose  altitude  is  equal  to 
its  radius,  so  a  sphere  is  equal  to  a  cone  whose  base  is  the 
same  as  the  surface  of  the  sphere  and  whose  altitude  is 
equal  to  the  radius  of  the  sphere."  As  a  bit  of  generaliza- 
tion this  throws  a  good  deal  of  light  on  the  workings  of 
Archimedes's  mind. 

In  proposition  III  he  considers  the  volume  of  a  sphe- 
roid, which  he  had  already  treated  more  fully  in  one  of  his 
letters  to  Dositheos,8  and  which  contains  nothing  new  from 
a  mathematical  standpoint.  Indeed  it  is  the  method  rather 
than  the  conclusion  that  is  interesting  in  such  of  the  sub- 
sequent propositions  as  relate  to  mensuration.  Proposition  V 
deals  with  the  center  of  gravity  of  a  segment  of  a  conoid,  and 
proposition  VI  with  the  center  of  gravity  of  a  hemisphere, 
thus  carrying  into  solid  geometry  the  work  of  Archimedes 
on  the  equilibrium  of  planes  and  on  their  centers  of  grav- 
ity.9 The  general  method  is  that  already  known  in  the 
treatise  mentioned,  and  this  is  followed  through  propo- 
sition X. 

Proposition  XI  is  the  interesting  case  of  a  segment  of 
a  right  cylinder  cut  off  by  a  plane  through  the  center  of 
the  lower  base  and  tangent  to  the  upper  one.  He  shows 
this  to  equal  one-sixth  of  the  square  prism  that  circum- 
scribes the  cylinder.  This  is  well  known  to  us  through  the 
formula  v  =  2r2h/3,  the  volume  of  the  prism  being  4r2//, 
and  requires  a  knowledge  of  the  center  of  gravity  of  the 
cylindric  section  in  question.  Archimedes  is,  so  far  as  we 


8  Ilept  Kwvoetde&v  Kai 

9  'ETTtTre'Swif  IffoppoTriuv  77  Kevrpa  (3apu>v 


230  THE   MONIST. 

know,  the  first  to  state  this  result,  and  he  obtains  it  by  his 
usual  method  of  the  skilful  balancing  of  sections.  There 
are  several  lacunae  in  the  demonstration,  but  enough  of 
it  remains  to  show  the  ingenuity  of  the  general  plan.  The 
culminating  interest  from  the  mathematical  standpoint  lies 
in  proposition  XIII,  where  Archimedes  reduces  the  whole 
question  to  that  of  the  quadrature  of  the  parabola.  He 
shows  that  a  fourth  of  the  circumscribed  prism  is  to  the 
segment  of  the  cylinder  as  the  semi-base  of  the  prism  is  to 
the  parabola  inscribed  in  the  semi-base;  that  is,  that  %/>  : 
v  =  %b :  (%- %fr ) ,  whence  v  =  Vsp.  Proposition  XIV  is  in- 
complete, but  it  is  the  conclusion  of  the  two  preceding  prop- 
ositions. 

In  general,  therefore,  the  greatest  value  of  the  work 
lies  in  the  following: 

1.  It  throws  light  upon  the  hitherto  only  suspected  re- 
lations of  Archimedes  and  Eratosthenes. 

2.  It  shows  the  working  of  the  mind  of  Archimedes  in 
the  discovery  of  mathematical  truths,  showing  that  he  often 
obtained  his  results  by  intuition  or  even  by  measurement, 
rather  than  by  an  analytic  form  of  reasoning,  verifying 
these  results  later  by  strict  analysis. 

3.  It  expresses  definitely  the  fact  that  Archimedes  was 
the  discoverer  of  those  properties  relating  to  the  sphere 
and  cylinder  that  have  been  attributed  to  him  and  that  are 
given  in  his  other  works  without  a  definite  statement  of 
their  authorship. 

4.  It  shows  that  Archimedes  was  the  first  to  state  the 
volume  of  the  cylinder  segment  mentioned,  and  it  gives 
an  interesting  description  of  the  mechanical  method  by 
which  he  arrived  at  his  result. 

DAVID  EUGENE  SMITH. 
TEACHERS  COLLEGE,  COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY. 


THE  CHOICE  OF  FACTS.1 

TOLSTOY  somewhere  explains  why  "science  for  its 
own  sake"  is  in  his  eyes  an  absurd  conception.  We 
cannot  know  all  facts,  since  their  number  is  practically  in- 
finite. It  is  necessary  to  choose;  then  we  may  let  this 
choice  depend  on  the  pure  caprice  of  our  curiosity.  Would 
it  not  be  better  to  let  ourselves  be  guided  by  utility,  by  our 
practical  and  above  all  by  our  moral  needs?  Have  we 
nothing  better  to  do  than  count  the  number  of  lady-bugs 
on  our  planet  ? 

It  is  clear  the  word  "utility"  has  not  for  him  the  sense 
men  of  affairs  give  it,  and  following  them  most  of  our 
contemporaries.  Little  cares  he  for  industrial  applications, 
for  the  marvels  of  electricity  or  of  automobilism,  which 
he  regards  rather  as  obstacles  to  moral  progress;  utility 
for  him  is  solely  what  can  make  man  better. 

For  my  part,  it  need  scarce  be  said,  I  could  never  be 
content  with  either  the  one  or  the  other  ideal;  I  would  not 
wish  either  a  grasping  and  mean  plutocracy  nor  a  goody 
and  mediocre  democracy  which  is  occupied  solely  in  turn- 
ing the  other  cheek,  where  sages  would  dwell  without 
curiosity,  and,  shunning  excess,  would  not  die  of  disease 
to  be  sure,  but  would  certainly  perish  of  ennui.  But  that 
is  a  matter  of  taste  and  is  not  what  I  wish  to  discuss. 

The  question  nevertheless  remains  and  should  fix  our 

1  Translated  from  the  French  by  G.  B.  Halsted. 


232  THE  MONIST. 

attention ;  if  our  choice  can  only  be  determined  by  caprice 
or  by  immediate  utility,  there  can  be  no  science  for  its  own 
sake,  and  consequently  no  science.  But  is  that  true  ?  That 
a  choice  must  be  made  is  incontestable;  however  active 
we  may  be,  facts  move  faster  than  we,  and  we  cannot  catch 
up  with  them.  While  the  scientist  discovers  one  fact,  mil- 
liards on  milliards  are  taking  place  in  a  cubic  millimeter 
of  his  body.  To  try  to  comprehend  nature  in  science 
would  mean  to  put  the  whole  into  the  part. 

But  scientists  believe  that  there  is  a  hierarchy  of  facts 
and  that  a  judicious  choice  may  be  made  among  them. 
They  are  right,  since  otherwise  there  would  be  no  sci- 
ence, and  science  exists.  One  need  only  open  his  eyes  to 
see  that  the  conquests  of  industry  which  have  enriched 
so  many  practical  men  would  never  have  seen  the  light,  if 
these  practical  men  alone  had  existed  and  if  they  had  not 
been  preceded  by  unselfish  devotees  who  died  poor,  who 
never  thought  of  utility,  and  yet  had  a  guide  far  other  than 
caprice. 

As  Mach  says,  these  devotees  have  spared  their  suc- 
cessors the  trouble  of  thinking.  Those  who  might  have 
worked  solely  in  view  of  an  immediate  application  would 
have  left  nothing  behind  them,  and,  in  the  face  of  a  new 
need,  all  must  have  been  begun  over  again.  Now  most 
men  do  not  love  to  think,  and  this  is  perhaps  fortunate 
when  instinct  guides  them,  for  most  often,  when  they  pur- 
sue an  aim  wrhich  is  immediate  and  ever  the  same,  instinct 
guides  them  better  than  reason  would  direct  a  pure  intelli- 
gence. But  instinct  is  routine,  and  if  thought  did  not 
fecundate  it,  it  would  make  no  more  progress  in  man  than 
in  the  bee  or  ant.  It  is  needful  then  to  think  for  those 
who  do  not  like  to  think,  and  as  these  are  numerous,  it  is 
needful  that  each  of  our  thoughts  be  useful  as  often  as 
possible,  and  this  is  why  a  law  will  be  the  more  precious 
according  as  it  is  the  more  general. 


THE  CHOICE  OF  FACTS.  233 

This  shows  us  how  we  should  choose:  the  most  inter- 
esting facts  are  those  which  may  serve  many  times;  these 
are  the  facts  which  have  a  chance  of  coming  up  again. 
We  have  been  so  fortunate  as  to  be  born  in  a  world  where 
there  are  such.  Suppose  that  instead  of  60  chemical  ele- 
ments there  were  60  milliards  of  them,  that  they  were  not, 
some  common  the  others  rare,  but  that  they  were  uniformly 
distributed.  Then  every  time  we  picked  up  a  new  pebble 
there  would  be  a  great  probability  of  its  being  formed  of 
some  unknown  substance.  All  that  we  knew  of  other 
pebbles  would  be  worthless  for  it.  Before  each  new  object 
we  should  be  as  the  new-born  babe;  like  it  we  could  only 
obey  our  caprices  or  our  needs.  In  such  a  world  there 
would  be  no  science ;  perhaps  thought  and  even  life  would 
be  impossible,  since  evolution  could  not  develop  there  the 
preservational  instincts.  Happily  it  is  not  so;  like  all 
god  fortune  to  which  we  are  accustomed,  this  is  not  ap- 
preciated at  its  true  worth.  The  biologist  would  be  just 
as  perplexed  if  he  had  only  individuals  and  no  spe- 
cies, and  if  heredity  did  not  make  sons  resemble  their 
fathers. 

Which,  then,  are  the  facts  likely  to  reappear?  First 
of  all,  they  are  the  simple  facts.  It  is  clear  that  in  a  com- 
plex fact  a  thousand  circumstances  are  united  by  chance, 
and  that  only  a  chance  still  much  less  probable  could  re- 
unite them  anew.  But  are  there  any  simple  facts  ?  And  if 
there  are,  how  recognize  them?  What  assurance  is  there 
that  a  thing  we  think  simple  does  not  hide  a  dreadful  com- 
plexity? All  we  can  say  is  that  we  ought  to  prefer  the 
facts  which  seem  simple  to  those  where  our  crude  eye  dis- 
cerns unlike  elements.  And  then  we  have  one  of  two 
things :  either  this  simplicity  is  real,  or  else  the  elements 
are  so  intimately  mingled  as  not  to  be  distinguishable.  In 
the  first  case  there  is  chance  of  our  meeting  anew  this  same 
simple  fact,  either  in  all  its  purity  or  entering  as  an  ele- 


234  THE  MONIST. 

ment  in  a  complex  manifold.  In  the  second  case  this 
intimate  mixture  has  likewise  more  chances  of  recurring 
than  a  heterogeneous  assemblage.  Chance  knows  how  to 
mix,  it  does  not  know  how  to  disentangle,  and  in  order  to 
construct  with  multiple  elements  a  well-ordered  edifice  in 
which  something  is  distinguishable,  it  is  necessary  to  make 
it  expressly.  The  facts  which  appear  simple,  even  if  they 
are  not  so,  will  therefore  be  more  easily  revived  by  chance. 
This  it  is  which  justifies  the  method  instinctively  adopted 
by  the  scientist,  and  what  justifies  it  still  better,  perhaps, 
is  that  oft-recurring  facts  appear  to  us  simple,  precisely 
because  we  are  used  to  them. 

But  where  is  the  simple  fact?  Scientists  have  been 
seeking  it  in  the  two  extremes,  in  the  infinitely  great  and  in 
the  infinitely  small.  The  astronomer  has  found  it  because 
the  distances  of  the  stars  are  immense,  so  great  that  each 
of  them  appears  but  as  a  point,  so  great  that  the  qualitative 
differences  are  effaced,  and  because  a  point  is  simpler  than 
a  body  which  has  form  and  qualities.  The  physicist,  on  the 
other  hand,  has  sought  the  elementary  phenomenon  in  fic- 
titiously cutting  up  bodies  into  infinitesimal  cubes,  because 
the  conditions  of  the  problem,  which  undergo  slow  and 
continuous  variation  in  passing  from  one  point  of  the  body 
to  another,  may  be  regarded  as  constant  in  the  interior  of 
each  of  these  little  cubes.  In  the  same  way  the  biologist 
has  been  instinctively  led  to  regard  the  cell  as  more  inter- 
esting than  the  whole  animal,  and  the  outcome  has  shown 
his  wisdom,  since  cells  belonging  to  the  most  diverse  organ- 
isms are  more  alike,  for  one  who  can  recognize  their  re- 
semblances, than  are  these  organisms  themselves. 

The  sociologist  is  more  embarrassed;  the  elements 
which  for  him  are  men,  are  too  unlike,  too  variable,  too 
capricious,  in  a  word,  too  complex  themselves.  Besides, 
history  never  begins  over  again ;  how  then  choose  the  inter- 
esting fact,  which  is  the  one  that  begins  again?  Method 


THE  CHOICE  OF  FACTS.  235 

is  precisely  the  choice  of  facts;  it  is  needful  then  to  be 
occupied  first  with  creating  a  method,  and  many  have  been 
imagined,  since  none  imposes  itself.  Each  thesis  in  sociol- 
ogy proposes  a  new  method,  which  however  the  new  doctor 
is  careful  not  to  apply,  so  that  sociology  is  the  science  with 
the  most  methods  and  fewest  results. 

Therefore  it  seems  best  to  begin  with  the  regular  facts ; 
but  after  the  rule  is  well  established,  after  it  is  beyond  all 
doubt,  the  facts  in  full  conformity  with  it  are  ere  long 
without  interest  since  they  no  longer  teach  us  anything 
new.  It  is  then  the  exception  which  becomes  important. 
We  cease  to  seek  resemblances ;  we  devote  ourselves  above 
all  to  differences,  and  among  the  differences  are  chosen 
first  the  most  accentuated,  not  only  because  they  are  the 
most  striking,  but  because  they  will  be  the  most  instruc- 
tive. 

I  will  endeavor  to  render  this,  thought  more  plain  by  a 
simple  example.  Let  us  assume  that  some  one  wishes  to 
determine  a  curve  which  he  does  by  observing  some  of  its 
points.  The  practical  man  who  concerns  himself  only  with 
immediate  utility  would  observe  only  the  points  he  might 
need  for  some  special  purpose.  These  points  would  be 
badly  distributed  on  the  curve;  they  would  be  crowded  in 
certain  regions,  rare  in  others,  so  that  it  would  be  im- 
possible to  join  them  by  a  continuous  line,  and  they  would 
be  unavailable  for  other  applications.  The  scientist  will 
proceed  differently;  as  he  wishes  to  study  the  curve  for 
itself,  he  will  distribute  regularly  the  points  to  be  ob- 
served, and  when  enough  are  known  he  will  join  them 
by  a  regular  line  and  then  he  will  have  the  entire  curve. 
But  to  accomplish  this,  how  does  he  proceed?  If  he  has 
determined  an  extreme  point  of  the  curve,  he  does  not  stay 
near  this  extremity,  but  goes  first  to  the  other  end;  after 
the  two  extremities  the  most  instructive  point  will  be  the 
center  and  so  on. 


236  THE  MONIST. 

So  when  a  rule  is  established  we  should  first  seek  the 
cases  where  this  rule  has  the  greatest  chance  of  failing. 
Thence,  among  other  reasons,  come  the  interest  of  astro- 
nomic facts  and  the  interest  of  the  geologic  past.  By  going 
very  far  away  in  space  or  very  far  away  in  time,  we  may 
find  our  usual  rules  entirely  overturned,  and  these  grand 
overturnings  aid  us  the  better  to  see  or  to  understand  the 
little  changes  which  may  happen  nearer  to  us,  in  the  little 
corner  of  the  world  where  we  are  called  to  live  and  act. 
We  shall  know  this  corner  better  for  having  traveled  in 
distant  countries  with  which  we  have  nothing  to  do. 

But  what  we  ought  to  aim  at  is  less  the  ascertainment 
of  resemblances  and  differences  than  the  recognition  of 
likenesses  hidden  under  apparent  divergences.  Particular 
rules  seem  at  first  discordant,  but  looking  more  closely 
we  see  that  in  general  they  resemble  each  other;  different 
as  to  matter,  they  are  alike  as  to  form,  as  to  the  order  of 
their  parts.  When  we  look  at  them  in  this  way,  we  shall 
see  them  enlarge  and  tend  to  embrace  everything.  And 
this  it  is  which  makes  the  value  of  certain  facts  which  come 
to  complete  an  assemblage  and  to  show  that  it  is  the  faith- 
ful image  of  other  known  assemblages. 

I  will  not  insist  further,  but  these  few  words  suffice  to 
show  that  the  scientist  does  not  choose  at  random  the  facts 
he  observes.  He  does  not,  as  Tolstoy  says,  count  the  lady- 
bugs,  because,  however  interesting  lady-bugs  may  be,  their 
number  is  subject  to  capricious  variations.  He  seeks  to 
condense  much  experience  and  much  thought  into  one  slen- 
der volume;  and  that  is  why  a  little  book  on  physics  con- 
tains so  many  past  experiences  and  a  thousand  times  as 
many  possible  experiences  whose  result  is  known  before- 
hand. 

But  we  have  as  yet  looked  at  only  one  side  of  the  ques- 
tion. The  scientist  does  not  study  nature  because  it  is 
useful;  he  studies  it  because  he  delights  in  it,  and  he  de- 


THE  CHOICE  OF  FACTS.  237 

lights  in  it  because  it  is  beautiful.  If  nature  were  not 
beautiful,  it  would  not  be  worth  knowing,  and  if  nature 
were  not  worth  knowing,  life  would  not  be  worth  living. 
Of  course  I  do  not  speak  here  of  that  beauty  which  strikes 
the  senses,  the  beauty  of  qualities  and  appearances;  not 
that  I  undervalue  such  beauty,  far  from  it,  but  it  has 
nothing  to  do  with  science.  I  mean  that  profounder  beauty 
which  comes  from  the  harmonious  order  of  the  parts  and 
which  a  pure  intelligence  can  grasp.  This  it  is  which 
gives  body,  a  structure  so  to  speak,  to  the  iridescent  ap- 
pearances which  flatter  our  senses,  and  without  this  sup- 
port, the  beauty  of  these  fugitive  dreams  would  be  only 
imperfect,  because  it  would  be  vague  and  always  fleeting. 
On  the  contrary,  intellectual  beauty  is  sufficient  unto  itself, 
and  it  is  for  its  sake,  more  perhaps  than  for  the  future 
good  of  humanity,  that  the  scientist  devotes  himself  to 
long  and  difficult  labors. 

It  is,  therefore,  the  quest  of  this  special  beauty,  the 
sense  of  the  harmony  of  the  cosmos,  which  makes  us 
choose  the  facts  most  fitting  to  contribute  to  this  har- 
mony, just  as  the  artist  chooses  from  among  the  features 
of  his  model  those  which  perfect  the  picture  and  give  it 
character  and  life.  And  we  need  not  fear  that  this  in- 
stinctive and  unavowed  prepossession  will  turn  the  scien- 
tist aside  from  the  search  for  the  true.  One  may  dream 
a  harmonious  world,  but  how  far  will  the  real  world  leave 
it  behind !  The  greatest  artists  that  ever  lived,  the  Greeks, 
made  a  heaven  of  their  own;  how  shabby  it  is  beside  the 
true  heaven,  ours ! 

And  it  is  because  simplicity,  because  grandeur,  is  beau- 
tiful, that  we  preferably  seek  simple  facts,  sublime  facts; 
that  we  delight  now  to  follow  the  majestic  course  of  the 
stars,  now  to  examine  with  the  microscope  that  prodigious 
littleness  which  is  also  a  grandeur,  now  to  seek  in  geologic 


238  THE  MONIST. 

time  the  traces  of  a  past  which  attracts  us  because  it  is  far 
away. 

We  see  too  that  the  longing  for  the  beautiful  leads  us 
to  the  same  choice  as  the  longing  for  the  useful.  And  so 
it  is  that  this  economy  of  thought,  this  economy  of  effort, 
which  is,  according  to  Mach,  the  constant  tendency  of 
science,  is  at  the  same  time  a  source  of  beauty  and  a  prac- 
tical advantage.  The  edifices  that  we  admire  are  those 
where  the  architect  has  known  how  to  proportion  the 
means  to  the  end,  where  the  columns  seem  to  carry  gaily, 
without  effort,  the  weight  placed  upon  them,  like  the  gra- 
cious caryatids  of  the  Erechtheum. 

Whence  comes  this  concordance?  Is  it  simply  that  the 
things  which  seem  beautiful  to  us  are  those  which  best 
adapt  themselves  to  our  intelligence,  and  that  consequently 
they  are  at  the  same  time  the  implement  this  intelligence 
knows  best  how  to  use  ?  Or  is  there  here  a  play  of  evolu- 
tion and  natural  selection?  Have  the  peoples  whose  ideal 
most  conformed  to  their  highest  interest  exterminated  the 
others  and  taken  their  place?  All  pursued  their  ideals 
without  reference  to  consequences,  but  while  this  quest 
led  some  to  destruction,  to  others  it  gave  empire.  One 
is  tempted  to  believe  it.  If  the  Greeks  triumphed  over  the 
barbarians  and  if  Europe,  heir  of  Greek  thought,  domi- 
nates the  world,  it  is  because  the  savages  loved  loud  colors 
and  the  clamorous  tones  of  the  drum  which  occupied  only 
their  senses,  while  the  Greeks  loved  the  intellectual  beauty 
which  hides  beneath  sensuous  beauty,  and  that  this  intel- 
lectual beauty  it  is  which  makes  intelligence  sure  and 
strong. 

Doubtless  such  a  triumph  would  horrify  Tolstoy,  and 
he  would  not  like  to  acknowledge  that  it  might  be  truly 
useful.  But  this  disinterested  quest  of  the  true  for  its 
own  beauty  is  sane  also  and  able  to  make  man  better.  I 
know  well  that  there  are  mistakes,  that  the  thinker  does 


THE  CHOICE  OF  FACTS.  239 

not  always  draw  thence  the  serenity  he  should  find  therein, 
and  even  that  there  are  scientists  of  bad  character.  Must 
we,  therefore,  abandon  science  and  study  only  morals? 
What!  Do  you  think  the  moralists  themselves  are  irre- 
proachable when  they  come  down  from  their  pedestals? 

H.  POINCARE. 
PARIS,  FRANCE. 


MUSIC  IN  THE  OLD  TESTAMENT.1 

LECTURE  GIVEN  FOR  THE  BENEFIT  OF  THE  HOME  FOR  AGED 
MUSIC  TEACHERS  AT  BRESLAU,  FEBRUARY  9,  1906. 

MUSIC  belongs  to  the  inalienable  rights  of  man.  It 
is  the  effort  to  make  one's  self  intelligible  to  his 
fellow  men  by  means  of  the  stimulation  of  sounds  of  all 
kinds.  Music  exists  wherever  men  are  found  upon  the 
earth  and  everywhere  they  show  a  genuine  refinement  in 
the  discovery  of  means  by  which  to  originate  sounds.  There 
is  hardly  anything  which  can  not  be  brought  into  use  for 
its  purposes. 

We  do  not  intend  to  lose  ourselves  here  in  speculation 
upon  the  psychological  reasons  for  this  demoniac  impulse ; 
we  will  be  content  simply  to  establish  the  fact  and  will  not 
enter  into  it  writh  regard  to  humanity  in  general,  but  only 
in  so  far  as  the  ancient  people  of  Israel  is  concerned. 
Even  with  relation  to  the  Old  Testament  we  will  limit 
ourselves  to  what  the  Old  Testament  itself  can  tell  us 
about  music  and  musical  things. 

Many  passages  have  proved  very  puzzling  to  Bible 
readers.  For  instance  when  we  read  in  the  heading  of 
Psalm  Ixxx,  "To  the  chief  Musician  upon  Shoshannim- 
Eduth,  A  Psalm  of  Asaph" ;  or  in  the  heading  of  Ps.  lx., 
"To  the  chief  Musician  upon  Shushan-eduth,  Michtam 
of  David,  to  teach" ;  or  in  the  heading  of  Ps.  Ivi,  "To  the 
chief  Musician  upon  Jonath-elem-rechokim,  Michtam  of 

1  Translated  from  Professor  Cornill's  manuscript  by  Lydia  Gillingham 
Robinson,  and  revised  by  the  author. 


MUSIC    IN   THE   OLD   TESTAMENT.  24! 

David" ;  or  when  Psalms  viii,  Ixxxi,  and  Ixxxiv,  bear  the 
inscription,  "To  the  chief  Musician  upon  Gittith";  or  the 
three,  xxxix,  Ixii,  and  Ixxvii  "to  Jeduthun" ;  we  may  cer- 
tainly assume  that  we  have  an  explanation  for  these  hiero- 
glyphics in  considering  that  they  possess  some  kind  of  a 
musical  character.2  Accordingly  it  will  be  our  task  to 
gather  together  and  to  sift  out  the  information  given  by 
the  Old  Testament  itself  upon  music  and  musical  matters 
and  then  to  see  whether  we  can  unite  and  combine  these 
scattered  and  isolated  features  into  one  comprehensive  pic- 
ture or  at  least  into  a  comparatively  clear  idea.  It  is  only 
scattered  and  isolated  features  which  the  Old  Testament 
offers  us  and  not  very  much  of  them  nor  very  abundantly. 
Not  perhaps  because  music  had  played  a  subordinate  and 
inconspicuous  part  in  the  life  of  ancient  Israel, — on  the 
contrary  they  must  have  been  a  people  of  an  unusually 
musical  temperament  whose  daily  nourishment  was  song 
and  sound.  On  this  point  the  Old  Testament  itself  leaves 
little  room  for  doubt. 

Everywhere  and  at  all  times  were  song  and  music  to 
be  found  in  Ancient  Israel.  Every  festival  occasion,  every 
climax  of  public  or  private  life  was  celebrated  with  music 
and  song.  Just  as  Homer  called  singing  and  string  music 
"the  consecration  of  the  meal,"3  so  also  in  ancient  Israel 
no  ceremonial  meal  could  be  thought  of  without  its  ac- 
companiment of  either  vocal  or  instrumental  music.  Mar- 
riage ceremonies  took  place  amid  festive  choruses  with 
music  and  dancing,  and  at  the  bier  of  the  dead  sounded  the 

J  Luther  in  his  translation  makes  an  attempt  to  translate  these  "hiero- 
glyphics," but  the  above  quoted  meaningless  combinations  of  letters  from  the 
King  James  version  hardly  convey  less  significance  to  the  reader  of  to-day 
than  his  sentences:  "Ein  Psalm  Assaphs  von  den  Spanrosen,  vorzusingen" 
(Ixxx)  ;  "Ein  gulden  Kleinod  Davids,  vorzusingen^  von  einem  guldenen  Rosen- 
span  su  lehren"  (lx)  ;  etc.  Professor  Cornill  considers  the  English  translation 
To  the  chief  Musician"  as  preferable  to  Luther's  vorzusingen.  The  Poly- 
chrome Bible  translates  this  word  "For  the  Liturgy,"  and  interprets  the  suc- 
ceeding clauses  as  "the  catch-word  of  an  older  song,  to  the  tune  whereof  this 
Psalm  was  to  be  sung."  Tr. 

8cur6s. 


242  THE   MONIST. 

wail  of  dirge  and  flute.  The  sheep  were  sheared  and  the 
vintage  gathered  to  songs  of  joy  and  dancing  and  tam- 
bourine playing.  The  same  was  true  in  public  life.  The 
election  of  a  king  or  his  coronation  or  betrothal  were  cele- 
brated with  music;  the  victorious  warriors  and  generals 
were  met  upon  their  return  home  by  choruses  of  matrons 
and  maidens  with  dance  and  song.  So  Miriam  spoke  from 
among  the  chorus  of  wromen  who  after  the  successful  pas- 
sage through  the  Red  Sea  went  out  "with  timbrels  and 
with  dances"  (Ex.  xv.  20)  ;  in  the  same  wray  too,  David 
was  received  by  matrons  and  maidens  after  his  successful 
battle  with  the  Philistines  (i  Sam.  xviii.  6) ;  and  upon  this 
custom  is  founded  the  frightful  tragedy  of  the  story  of 
Jephthah,  whose  daughter  hastened  in  the  joy  of  her  heart 
to  offer  greeting  and  praise  to  her  victorious  father,  only 
to  be  met  by  death  as  the  fulfilment  of  his  vow  (Judges 
xi). 

How  great  a  place  music  occupied  in  the  worship  of 
ancient  Israel  is  universally  known.  The  entire  Psalter  is 
nothing  else  than  a  collection  of  religious  songs  which  were 
sung  in  the  temple  worship  where  the  priests  with  their 
trumpets  and  the  choruses  of  music-making  Levites  stand 
before  the  eye  of  our  imagination.  Especially  by  typical 
expressions  do  we  learn  what  a  significance  music  had  for 
the  life  of  the  Israelitish  nation.  There  is  in  Hebrew  a 
saying  which  characterizes  what  we  would  call  being  "com- 
mon talk/'  "the  object  of  gossip,"  "on  everybody's  tongue," 
in  such  a  way  as  to  indicate  ditties  sung  in  ridicule.  The 
Hebrew  expression  neginah*  means  "string  music,"  being 
derived  from  the  word  nagan,5  "to  beat,"  "to  touch,"  with 
special  reference  to  instruments,  as  in  striking  the  chords. 
In  Psalm  Ixix.  12,  this  word  neginah  is  used  in  a  passage 
which  literally  reads:  "I  am  the  lute  song  of  drunkards." 
The  Polychrome  Bible  translates  the  passage:  "I  am  the 


MUSIC    IN   THE   OLD   TESTAMENT.  243 

subject  of  wine  bibbers'  ballads."  In  the  same  sense  the 
word  is  used  in  Job  xxx.  9,  with  reference  to  the  frightful 
fate  that  had  befallen  him:  "And  now  am  I  their  song,  yea 
I  am  their  byword."  And  in  Lamentations  we  find  (iii.  14, 
63),  "I  was  a  derision  to  all  my  people;  and  their  song 
all  the  day.  . .  .Behold  their  sitting  down,  and  their  rising 
up;  I  am  their  music."  Here  the  word  translated  "song" 
and  "music"  is  the  same  in  both  instances.  When  Job's 
fortune  changes  to  evil  he  says  (xxx.  31),  "My  harp  also 
is  turned  to  mourning,  and  my  organ  into  the  voice  of 
them  that  weep."  The  dreadful  desolation  of  Jerusalem 
after  its  destruction  is  described  in  Lamentations  with  the 
words :  "The  elders  have  ceased  from  the  gate,  the  young 
men  from  their  music"  (v.  14). 

Ancient  Israel  must  have  been  recognized  among  out- 
side nations  as  well,  as  a  particularly  musical  people  whose 
accomplishments  in  the  art  comprised  a  definite  profession. 
For  this  view  we  have  two  extremely  characteristic  sources 
of  evidence,  one  from  Assyrian  monuments  and  one  from 
the  Old  Testament.  In  his  account  of  the  unsuccessful 
siege  of  Jerusalem  by  the  Assyrians  in  the  year  701  B.  C. 
Sanherib  tells  us,  according  to  the  translation  of  Hugo 
Winckler,  that  Hezekiah,  king  of  Judah,  besides  all  kinds 
of  valuable  articles  sent  also  his  daughters  and  the  women 
of  his  palace  together  with  men  and  women  singers  to  the 
great  king  at  Nineveh,  while  in  the  touching  Psalm  cxxxvii 
we  learn  that  the  Babylonian  tyrant  demanded  songs  of  the 
Jewish  exiles,  to  cheer  them  up :  "Sing  to  us  your  beautiful 
songs  of  Zion." 

Jewish  tradition  has  given  expression  to  the  fact  that 
music  belongs  to  the  earliest  benefits  and  gifts  of  the  cul- 
ture of  mankind  by  establishing  Jubal  as  the  inventor  of 
music  and  father  of  musicians  as  early  as  the  seventh  gen- 
eration after  the  creation  (Gen.  iv.  21).  An  important 
influence  on  the  human  heart  was  ascribed  to  music  and  it 


244  THE  MONIST. 

was  employed  to  drive  away  the  evil  spirit  of  melancholy 
when  David  played  before  the  sick  King  Saul  (  I  Sam.  xvi. 
23).  It  was  also  used  as  a  spiritual  stimulus  by  which  to 
acquire  prophetic  inspiration.  In  Samuel's  time  companies 
of  prophets  traversed  the  land  to  the  music  of  psalter  and 
harp  (i  Sam.  x.  5),  and  so  the  Prophet  Elisha  to  whom 
the  Kings  Jehoshaphat  and  Jehoram  applied  for  an  oracle 
from  God,  sent  for  a  lute  player,  saying  (2  Kings  iii.  15)  : 
"But  now  bring  me  a  minstrel.  And  it  came  to  pass,  when 
the  minstrel  played,  that  the  hand  of  the  Lord  came  upon 
him." 

An  art  to  which  such  a  powerful  influence  was  attrib- 
uted and  to  whose  most  famous  masters  the  greatest  king 
of  Israel  belonged,  must  have  been  zealously  practised,  and 
we  will  now  undertake  to  gain  some  idea  of  the  cultivation 
of  music  in  ancient  Israel.  To  this  end  it  will  be  most 
useful  if  we  will  begin  our  investigation  with  what  the 
Old  Testament  says  about  musical  instruments,  of  course 
with  express  exception  of  the  book  of  Daniel  which  in  its 
third  chapter  mentions  a  large  number  of  instruments, 
using  their  Greek  names  as  naturalized  words;6  for  these 
prove  absolutely  nothing  with  regard  to  ancient  Hebrew 
music  which  at  present  is  our  only  consideration. 

We  may  with  equal  propriety  exclude  singing  from  our 
investigation.  Song  is  such  an  especially  instinctive  and 
spontaneous  expression  of  the  human  soul  that  its  pres- 
ence is  established  a  priori.  In  this  connection  the  question 
might  be  raised  with  regard  to  the  construction  of  the 
tone  system,  but.  this  can  not  be  answered  without  knowl- 
edge of  the  instruments  employed.  Only  I  will  not  neglect 
to  mention  that  as  early  as  in  the  time  of  David  profes- 
sional male  and  female  singers  provided  music  during 
mealtime.  David  wished  to  take  with  him  to  Jerusalem 
as  a  reward  for  fidelity  the  faithful  old  Barzillai  who  had 


,  Ki0apis, 


PLATE  I. 


FIG.    I.        EGYPTIAN    HARPS 


FIG.    2.       EGYPTIAN    HARP    CARRIED 
IN    PROCESSION. 


FIG.    3.        EGYPTIAN    PICTURE    OF    A 
BEDOUIN    WITH    KINNOR. 


FIG.    4.       AN    ASSYRIAN    CYMBALIST. 


FIG.    5.       ASSYRIAN    LUTE 
PLAYERS. 


MUSIC   IN   THE   OLD   TESTAMENT.  245 

protected  him  at  the  time  of  Absalom's  rebellion.  There 
he  would  be  the  daily  guest  of  the  king ;  but  Barzillai  an- 
swered (2  Sam.  xix.  35),  "I  am  this  day  fourscore  years 
old;  and  can  I  discern  between  good  and  evil?  Can  thy 
servant  taste  what  I  eat  or  what  I  drink  ?  Can  I  hear  any 
more  the  voice  of  singing  men  and  singing  women  ?  Where- 
fore then  should  thy  servant  be  yet  a  burden  unto  my  lord 
the  king?"  Solomon,  the  Preacher,  also  delighted  in  "men 
singers  and  women  singers  and  the  delights  of  the  sons  of 
men,  as  musical  instruments  and  that  of  all  sorts"  (Eccl. 

ii.  8). 

*       *       # 

Musical  instruments  are  usually  divided  into  three  clas- 
ses, percussive  instruments,  stringed  instruments,  and  wind 
instruments,  and  we  shall  also  follow  this  division.  Of 
these  three  classes  the  percussive  instruments  are  the  most 
primitive.  They  can  not  be  said  to  possess  any  properly 
articulated  tones  but  sounds  only,  and  their  single  artistic 
element  is  rhythm,  which  however  is  certainly  the  foun- 
dation and  essential  characteristic  of  music  according  to 
the  witty  utterance  of  Hans  von  Biilow,  "In  the  beginning 
was  the  rhythm." 

Among  percussive  instruments  the  one  most  frequently 
mentioned  is  the  timbrel  or  tabret  ( in  Hebrew  t oph1 )  which 
corresponds  exactly  to  our  tambourine.  Often  they  were 
richly  ornamented  so  that  they  were  frequently  referred 
to  as  decorations.  In  one  of  the  most  splendid  passages 
of  the  prophet  Jeremiah,  we  read :  "Again  I  will  build  thee, 
and  thou  shalt  be  built,  O  virgin  of  Israel ;  thou  shalt  again 
be  adorned  with  thy  tabrets,  and  shalt  go  forth  in  the 
dances  of  them  that  make  merry"  (Jer.  xxxi.  4).  This 
passage  is  particularly  characteristic  of  the  nature  of  the 
tabret  in  two  respects ;  first,  it  usually  appears  in  the  hands 
of  women  (in  all  passages  where  tabret  players  are  ex- 


246  THE  MONIST. 

pressly  mentioned  they  are  matrons  and  maidens) ;  and 
secondly  it  almost  always  appears  in  connection  with  the 
dance,  as  being  swung  in  the  dance  and  marking  its 
rhythm.  We  can  suppose  it  to  have  been  undoubtedly 
played  by  men  only  in  connection  with  the  music  of  the 
companies  of  prophets  in  Samuel's  time,  for  if  we  read 
that  these  prophets  came  down  from  the  sacred  high  place 
with  a  psaltery,  and  a  tabret,  and  a  pipe,  and  a  harp  before 
them  ( i  Sam.  x.  5 ) ,  we  would  hardly  think  of  the  musi- 
cians who  accompanied  these  wild  men  and  played  the 
tabrets  before  them,  as  women. 

The  second  percussive  instrument  is  the  familiar  cym- 
bal, which  comes  next  to  our  mind  in  thinking  of  the  music 
of  the  Old  Testament.  With  regard  to  the  nature  and 
character  of  this  instrument  we  can  gather  all  that  is  es- 
sential from  the  Bible  itself.  In  the  first  place  the  cymbal 
must  have  been  constructed  of  brass,  for  in  the  familiar 
passage,  I  Cor.  xiii.  i,  the  Apostle  Paul  writes  according 
to  the  Greek  text,  "Though  I  speak  with  the  tongues  of 
men  and  of  angels,  and  have  not  charity  I  am  become  as 
sounding  brass,  or  a  tinkling  cymbal."  The  Hebrew  root 
tsalal*  from  which  both  words  for  cymbal  are  derived, 
means  "clatter,"  to  give  forth  a  sharp  penetrating  sound ; 
and  the  word  most  frequently  used,  metsiltayim9  is  in  the 
dual  form  which  is  never  used  in  the  Hebrew  language  in 
its  purely  grammatical  sense,  but  only  in  the  logical  sense 
of  things  which  occur  in  nature  only  in  pairs.  Now  since 
a  penetrating  and  loud  tone  is  repeatedly  attributed  to  the 
cymbals  we  may  consider  them  as  two  metal  plates  to  be 
struck  together  (Fig.  4)  ;  that  is  to  say,  they  are  the  in- 
struments which  we  know  as  cymbals  and  which  are  known 
in  German  as  Becken  and  in  Italian  as  piatti,  and  which 
are  most  familiar  to  us  in  military  music  in  combination 
with  a  bass  drum. 


PLATE  II. 


FIG.    6.        SISTRUM    AND    OTHER    ANCIENT    INSTRUMENTS. 
(British  Museum.) 


FIG.    7.        RELIEF    FROM    SENDSCHIRLI    IN    NORTHERN    SYRIA. 


MUSIC    IN   THE  OLD   TESTAMENT.  247 

Two  other  percussive  instruments  are  mentioned  of 
which  one  is  still  doubtful.  The  one  which  is  undoubtedly 
certain,  mena'an'im10  (2  Sam.  vi.  5)  evidently  comes  from 
the  root  nua',11  "to  shake"  and  corresponds  exactly  with 
the  Greek  sistrum12  which  consists  of  metal  crossbars  upon 
which  hang  metal  rings  that  are  made  to  produce  their 
tones  by  shaking  (Fig.  6).  Accordingly  in  current  lan- 
guage it  is  the  Turkish  bell-tree,  the  cinelli,  with  which 
we  are  familiar  also  through  German  military  music. 

Then  too  an  instrument  called  the  shalishls  is  men- 
tioned in  the  hands  of  women  together  with  the  tabret  at 
the  triumphant  reception  of  David  upon  his  return  from 
the  conquest  of  the  giant  Goliath  (i  Sam.  xviii.  6).  The 
word  shalish  being  derived  from  the  same  root  as  shalosh, 
the  number  "three,"  we  have  been  accustomed  to  identify 
it  with  our  modern  triangle,  but  it  is  a  question  whether 
we  are  justified  in  so  doing.  With  this  instrument  we 
have  exhausted  the  number  of  percussive  instruments  men- 
tioned in  the  Old  Testament. 

It  might  perhaps  be  more  logical  for  us  to  follow  the 
percussive  instruments  at  once  with  the  wind  instruments, 
inasmuch  as  they  are  the  most  primitive  next  to  the  per- 
cussive instruments  because  horns  of  animals  and  reeds 
are  nature's  own  gifts  to  men,  while  strings  made  from 
catgut  are  a  purely  artificial  product.  But  as  far  as  an- 
cient Israel  was  concerned  the  stringed  instruments  were 
by  far  the  most  important.  I  will  remind  my  readers  once 
more  of  the  proverbial  application  of  the  word  string- 
music  above  mentioned. 

Accordingly  I  will  next  consider  the  stringed  instru- 
ments, of  which  the  Old  Testament  mentions  two,  the 
kinnor,14  and  neb el. 15  That  both  were  composed  of  strings 
drawn  across  wood  (Fig.  8)  may  be  proved,  in  so  far  as 
it  needs  proof,  by  the  fact  that  according  to  i  Kings  x.  12, 


248  THE  MONIST. 

Solomon  ordered  certain  instruments  of  this  class  intended 
for  the  temple  service  to  be  made  out  of  sandal  wood, 
which  he  had  obtained  during  his  famous  visits  to  Ophir. 
Of  these  two  instruments  the  kinnor  is  the  most  important, 
but  I  will  begin  with  the  nebel  because  we  have  the  more 
definite  tradition  with  regard  to  it.  When  Jerome  tells 
us  that  the  nebel,  whose  name  became  nablalQ  and  nablium 
in  Greek  and  Latin,  possessed  the  form  of  a  Greek  Delta  &, 
we  thus  have  the  triangular  pointed  harp  indicated  as 
plainly  as  possible  (Fig.  i).  The  only  objection  that  can 
be  brought  against  this  view,  namely  that  we  repeatedly 
meet  this  instrument  in  the  hands  of  dancers  and  pilgrims, 
is  not  sound.  In  representations  of  Ancient  Egypt,  we 
also  have  harps  so  small  that  they  could  easily  be  carried 
(Fig.  2),  and  the  best  commentaries  have  lately  shown  us 
Assyrian  representations  where  pointed  harps  with  the 
points  at  the  top  and  fastened  with  a  band  were  likewise 
carried  in  the  hands  of  dancing  processions  (Fig.  9).  If 
the  points  of  these  Assyrian  harps  were  regularly  at  the 
top,  this  will  explain  to  us  better  St.  Jerome's  comparison 
with  the  Greek  Delta  which  of  course  has  the  point  at  the 
top. 

Especially  noteworthy  among  others  is  an  Assyrian 
representation  (Fig.  15)  in  which  three  prisoners  are  be- 
ing led  into  exile  by  an  Assyrian  king,  and  all  three  are 
playing  four-stringed  harps  on  the  march,  but  the  harps 
are  so  turned  that  the  broad  side  is  on  top.  It  is  very  pos- 
sible that  these  figures  may  represent  captive  Israelites. 

There  must  have  been  several  varieties  of  nebel  (e.  g., 
Fig.  12).  A  harp  of  ten  strings  (deka chord)  is  repeatedly 
mentioned17  in  clear  distinction  from  the  usual  ones  which 
accordingly  must  have  had  fewer  than  ten  strings,  perhaps 
four  as  in  that  Assyrian  sketch.  An  instrument  of  six 
strings  is  the  interpretation  of  many  exegetists  of  the 

16  v&p\a.  "  Ps.  xxxiii.  2 ;  xcii.  4 ;  cvliv.  9. 


PLATE  III. 


FIG.    8.       ASSYRIAN    HARPISTS. 
(British  Museum.) 


FIG.    Q.       ASSYRIAN    PROCESSION    OF    MUSICIANS. 


MUSIC    IN   THE  OLD   TESTAMENT.  249 

word  shushan18  which  Luther  translates  by  Rosen  in  the 
headings  to  Psalms  xlv,  Ix,  Ixix  and  Ixxx.  When  we  read 
in  Luther's  Bible  in  the  headings  to  Psalms  vi  and  xii  "to 
be  rendered  on  eight  strings/'19  this  is  hardly  an  accurate 
translation  of  a  musical  term  with  which  we  shall  occupy 
ourselves  later. 

By  far  the  most  important  stringed  instrument  on  the 
other  hand,  is  the  kinnor.  Its  invention  is  ascribed  to 
Jubal,  and  we  meet  with  it  on  every  hand  in  the  most  varied 
occasions.  The  exiles  hung  them  on  the  willows  by  the 
waters  of  Babylon  (Ps.  cxxxvii.  2)  and  according  to  a 
passage  in  the  book  of  Isaiah,  which  to  be  sure  comes  from 
a  much  later  date,  probably  the  Greek  period,  they  are  used 
by  harlots  for  the  public  allurement  of  men  (Is.  xxiii.  16). 

For  us  the  kinnor  has  indeed  a  conspicuous  interest  and 
a  particular  significance  in  that  it  was  the  instrument  of 
King  David,  by  which  the  son  of  Jesse  subdued  the  mel- 
ancholy of  King  Saul,  and  which  he  played  when  dancing 
before  the  ark.  We  are  particularly  fortunate  in  posses- 
sing an  authentic  copy  of  this  instrument  on  an  Egyptian 
monument.  On  the  tomb  of  Chnumhotep,  the  Prince  of 
Middle  Egypt  at  Beni  Hassan  in  the  time  of  Pharaoh  Usur- 
tesen  II  of  the  I2th  dynasty,  which  can  not  be  placed  later 
than  2300  B.  C,  a  procession  of  Semitic  nomads  is  repre- 
sented which  Chnumhotep  is  leading  into  the  presence  of 
Pharaoh  in  order  to  obtain  the  royal  permission  for  a 
dwelling  place  in  Egypt.  In  this  procession  a  man  who 
comes  immediately  behind  the  women  and  children  is  carry- 
ing by  a  leather  thong  an  instrument  which  we  can  not 
fail  to  recognize  as  the  kinnor  (Fig.  3,  cf.  also  Fig.  5).  It 
is  a  board  with  four  rounded  corners  and  with  a  sounding 
hole  in  the  upper  part  over  which  eight  strings  are 


19  The  Polychrome  Bible  here  understands  "in  the  eighth  [mode]"  or  key. 
The  authorized  version  again  resorts  to  a  transcription  of  the  Hebrew,  "On 
Neginoth  upon  Sheminith."  Dr.  Cornill's  view  is  given  on  pages  257  f.  Tr. 


250  THE  MONIST. 

stretched.  The  man  picks  the  strings  with  the  fingers  of 
his  left  hand  while  he  strikes  them  with  a  so-called  plec- 
trum,20 a  small  stick  held  in  his  right  hand.  That  the 
Israelites  also  played  their  stringed  instruments  partly  with 
their  ringers  and  partly  by  means  of  such  a  plectrum  we 
might  conclude  from  the  two  characteristically  different 
expressions  for  playing  on  strings:  zamar^  "to  pluck," 
and  nagan22  "to  strike."  All  antiquity  was  unacquainted 
with  the  use  of  bows  to  produce  sound  from  stringed  in- 
struments of  any  kind. 

Hence  the  kinnor  may  first  of  all  be  compared  to  our 
zither,  except  that  it  apparently  had  no  hollow  space  under- 
neath and  no  special  sounding  board.  The  stringed  in- 
struments as  they  are  represented  in  countless  different 
varieties  on  Jewish  coins  (Figs.  13  and  14)  do  not  corre- 
spond either  with  the  nebel  or  the  kinnor  but  much  more 
closely  resemble  the  Greek  lyre23  and  therefore  have  little 
value  with  reference  to  the  Old  Testament. 

We  might  also  consider  the  gittith  a  stringed  instru- 
ment where  the  headings  to  Ps.  viii,  Ixxxi,  and  Ixxxiv,  read 
"upon  Gittith."24  But  it  is  very  doubtful  whether  the  word 
gittith25  translates  a  musical  instrument  and  not  rather  a 
particular  kind  of  song  or  melody.  In  either  case  it  will  be 
better  not  to  confuse  the  old  Israelitish  temple  orchestra 
with  the  gittith. 

We  have  still  to  consider  the  wind  instruments.  One 
of  these  whose  invention  is  likewise  ascribed  to  Jubal  is 
called  the  'ugab.™  Besides  in  Gen.  iv.  21,  it  is  mentioned 
twice  in  the  book  of  Job,  and  once  in  Ps.  cl,  in  which  all 
instruments  and  everything  that  hath  breath  are  sum- 


MThe  Polychrome  Bible  comments:  "We  do  not  know  whether  Gittith 
means  'belonging  to  the  city  of  Gath,'  which  probably  had  been  destroyed  be- 
fore the  Babylonian  Exile,  or  'belonging  to  a  wine-press'  (=  Song  for  the 
Vintage?),  or  whether  it  denotes  a  mode  or  key,  or  a  musical  instrument."  Tr. 

25  rrro 

90  D3W.  It  is  translated  in  the  authorized  version  by  "organ,"  but  in  Ps.  cl. 
4,  in  the  margin,  as  "pipe."  Tr. 


PLATE  IV. 


FIG.    10.        ASSYRIAN    HARP    AND    FLUTE    PLAYERS. 


FIG.    II.        ASSYRIAN    QUARTETTE. 


FIG.    12.        AN    ANCIENT    ELEVEN-STRINGED    HARP    OF    BABYLON. 


MUSIC    IN    THE   OLD   TESTAMENT.  25! 

moned  to  give  praise  and  thanksgiving  to  God  (Ps.  cl.  4; 
Job  xxi.  12;  xxx.  31).  This  'ugab  is  most  probably  the 
same  as  the  bag-pipe  which  is  of  course  a  very  primitive 
and  widely  spread  instrument  familiar  to  us  as  the  national 
instrument  of  the  Scotch,  and  best  known  in  continental 
Europe  as  the  pilfer ari  of  Italy.  It  has  been  customary 
to  translate  fugab  by  "shawm";  Luther  calls  it  "pipes" 
(Pfeifen). 

The  most  important  reed  instrument,  the  flute,  we  find 
referred  to  as  khalil,™  only  in  five  passages:  with  the 
thundering  music  of  the  prophets  (i  Sam.  x.  5)  ;  at  the 
proclamation  of  Solomon  as  the  successor  of  David  ( I 
Kings  i.  40) ;  twice  in  the  book  of  Isaiah,  in  connection 
with  the  dinner  music  of  the  rich  gluttons  and  winebibbers 
at  Jerusalem  (v.  12),  and  also  "when  one  goeth  with  the 
pipe  to  come  into  the  mountain  of  the  Lord"  (xxx.  29)  ; 
and  finally  once  in  the  book  of  Jeremiah  as  the  instrument 
of  mourning  and  lamentation,  where  we  read  (xlviii.  36), 
"Therefore  mine  heart  shall  sound  for  Moab  like  pipes." 
In  this  connection  we  are  reminded  to  some  extent  of  the 
awakening  of  Jairus's  little  daughter.  When  Jesus  reached 
the  house  of  mourning  he  found  there  before  him  flute 
players  and  weeping  women28  (Matt.  ix.  23;  Mark  v.  38). 

Of  the  construction  of  these  flutes  the  Old  Testament 
tells  us  nothing  and  leaves  nothing  to  be  inferred,  and  yet 
we  imagine  that  the  khalil  was  not  a  transverse  flute  but 
probably  a  sort  of  beaked  flute,  thus  corresponding  much 
more  closely  to  our  clarinet.  We  find  the  transverse  flutes 
only  in  very  isolated  cases  on  Egyptian  monuments,  while 
on  the  other  hand  we  find  the  beaked  flutes  regularly  in  an 
overwhelming  majority  with  the  Assyrians,  and  indeed 
often  composed  of  two  tubes  as  was  the  common  form 
among  the  Greeks  (Fig.  10).  But  nearer  than  this  we 

27b^n.    Translated  in  the  authorized  version  by  "pipe."    Tr. 
88  The  English  version  speaks  simply  of  "minstrels  and  the  people  making 
a  noise,"  without  translating  the  kind  of  instrument  used.     Tr. 


252  THE  MONIST. 

can  not  affirm  anything  with  regard  to  their  use  in  ancient 
Israel. 

We  find  animal  horns  mentioned  twice  among  wind 
instruments,  as  rani's  horns,  once  indeed  in  connection 
with  the  theophany  of  Sinai  (Exodus  xix.  13)  and  once 
at  the  capture  of  Jericho  (Josh.  vi.  5).  The  term  "horn," 
qeren,29  for  a  musical  instrument  comes  under  Greek  in- 
fluence again  in  the  book  of  Daniel.  On  the  other  hand  in 
Old  Testament  times  only  the  two  forms  shofar30  and 
hatsotserah31  were  in  common  use.  On  the  triumphal  arch 
of  Titus  (Figs.  1 6  and  17)  and  on  two  Jewish  coins 
(Fig.  18)  we  have  esthetic  representations  of  the  hatsot- 
serah  which  was  peculiarly  the  instrument  of  worship  and 
was  blown  by  the  priests.  According  to  Num.  x,  two  hat- 
sotseroth  (the  word  always  occurs  in  the  plural  in  the 
Hebrew  with  one  exception)  were  to  be  fashioned  out  of 
silver  by  skilful  handiwork  and  there  the  priests  made  use 
of  them  to  call  together  the  people  and  to  announce  the 
feasts  and  new  moons.  That  these  instruments  in  the 
ancient  temple  were  indeed  of  silver  we  learn  also  from  an 
incidental  notice  in  2  Kings  xii.  13,  in  the  reign  of  King 
Joash.  According  to  many  pictures  they  are  rather  long 
and  slender  and  perfectly  straight,  widening  gradually  in 
front  into  a  bell  mouth,  hence  the  very  instruments  which 
the  pictures  of  ancient  art  used  to  place  in  the  hands  of 
angels,  and  which  may  best  be  compared  with  the  so-called 
clarion  of  ancient  music,  a  kind  of  clarinet  made  of  metal. 

The  wind  instrument  which  is  second  in  importance, 
the  shofar,  still  plays  a  part  in  the  worship  of  the  syn- 
agogue, but  in  the  Old  Testament,  as  far  as  religious  use 
is  concerned  it  is  far  behind  the  hatsotserah.  According 
to  Jerome  the  horn  of  the  shofar  is  bent  backward  in  con- 
trast to  the  straight  horn  of  the  hatsotserah.  It  is  espe- 
cially the  instrument  for  sounding  signals  of  alarm,  for 

31  r 


PLATE  V. 


FIG.    13.        LYRES    ON    ANCIENT    COINS. 
(After  Madden.) 


FIG.    14.        LUTES    ON    ANCIENT    COINS 
(After  Madden.) 


FIG.    15.       SEMITIC   CAPTIVES    PLAYING    ON    FOUR-STRINGED    HARPS. 


MUSIC    IN   THE   OLD   TESTAMENT.  253 

which  purpose  it  was  widely  used.  According  to  law 
this  trumpet  was  to  be  sounded  on  the  day  of  atonement 
every  forty-ninth  year,  the  year  of  jubilee  (Lev.  xxv.  9). 
There  is  a  noteworthy  passage  in  the  book  of  Isaiah  where 
it  says  that  on  that  day  at  the  sounding  of  the  great  trum- 
pet (shofar)  all  the  Jews  scattered  and  exiled  throughout 
the  whole  world  shall  come  back  to  worship  in  the  holy 
mount  at  Jerusalem  (Is.  xxvii.  13)  ;  and  this  eschatological 
and  apocalyptical  passage  has  also  become  significant  with 
regard  to  the  New  Testament,  for  from  it  the  Apostle 
Paul  takes  the  trump  of  the  last  judgment  by  whose  sound 
the  dead  will  arise  according  to  i  Cor.  xv.  52,  and  i  Thess. 
iv.  1 6.  (Cf.  also  Matt.  xxiv.  31.)  According  to  the 
prophet  Zechariah  the  Lord  of  Sabaoth  himself  shall  blow 
the  trumpet  (shofar}  at  the  last  judgment  (Zech.  ix.  14). 
Whether  the  ancient  Israelites  really  played  melodies 
or  signals  in  the  natural  tones  of  the  bugle  or  the  signal 
trumpet  we  do  not  know.  We  have  only  two  characteris- 
tically different  expressions  for  the  blowing  on  the  shofar 
and  hatsotserah,  viz.,  "blow"32  on  the  instruments  and 
"howl"33  on  them.  By  the  first  word  is  meant  to  make  a 
noise  by  short  sharp  blasts  and  by  the  last,  by  long  drawn 
out  ringing  notes.  This  is  what  we  learn  from  the  Old 
Testament  about  musical  instruments  of  ancient  Israel 

and  their  use. 

*       *       * 

The  character  of  the  music  of  ancient  Israel  we  must 
consider  in  general  as  merry  and  gay,  almost  boisterous, 
so  that  it  seemed  advisable  to  refrain  from  music  in  the 
presence  of  men  who  were  ill-tempered  or  moody.  In  the 
Proverbs  of  Solomon  xxv.  20,  we  have  the  expressive 
simile,  "as  vinegar  upon  nitre  so  is  he  that  singeth  songs 
to  an  heavy  heart."  Music  served  most  conspicuously  and 
was  of  first  importance  in  the  joys  of  life  as,  for  instance, 

taka* 


254  THE  MONIST. 

dinner  music,  dance  music,  and  feast  music,  so  that  the 
prophet  Jeremiah  speaks  of  it  as  the  voice  of  mirth  and  the 
voice  of  gladness  (Jer.  vii.  34;  xvi.  9;  xxv.  10;  xxxiii.  n). 
Even  ritual  music  seems  to  have  borne  a  worldly  character 
in  ancient  Israel,  so  that  through  the  prophet  Amos,  God 
addresses  the  nation  in  words  of  wrath:  "Take  thou  away 
from  me  the  noise  of  thy  songs;  for  I  will  not  hear  the 
melody  of  thy  viols"  (v.  23).  Amos  uses  here  exactly  the 
same  strong  expression  with  which  Ezekiel  (xxiii.  42) 
describes  the  singing  of  abandoned  women  in  Bacchanal- 
ian orgies,  and  (xxvi.  13)  the  sound  of  harps  in  the  luxu- 
rious commercial  center  of  Tyre. 

Since  in  all  ancient  reports  men  and  women  singers  are 
named  together,  it  is  therefore  most  probable  that  women 
took  part  in  the  ritual  service  of  ancient  Israel.  A  doubt- 
ful passage  in  Amos  should  according  to  all  probability 
be  translated  'Then  will  the  women  singers  in  the  temple 
howl"  (Amos  viii.  3),  and  this  circumstance  may  have 
especially  aroused  the  anger  of  the  puritanical  and  un- 
taught herdsman  of  Tekoa.  But  that  Amos  may  have 
had  a  justifiable  foundation  for  his  repugnance  to  the 
singing  of  women  became  clear  to  me  -when  in  the  spring 
of  1905  I  attended  the  International  Congress  of  Orien- 
talists at  Algiers  as  official  delegate  of  the  Prussian  Gov- 
ernment and  had  an  opportunity  for  the  first  time  to  hear 
modern  Arabian  music.  On  the  second  evening  of  the 
Congress  a  lecture  was  offered  to  us  on  "La  musique 
arabe"  illustrated  by  concrete  examples.  At  the  left  of 
the  lecturer  was  a  group  of  male,  and  on  the  right  a  group 
of  female  musicians,  which  at  his  signal  performed  their 
corresponding  parts.  But  since  no  provision  was  made 
for  reserved  seats,  then  or  at  any  other  session  of  the  con- 
gress, there  ensued  a  battle  of  elbows  in  open  competition, 
and  the  hall  was  much  too  small  for  the  number  of  the 
members  of  the  Congress,  which  seemed  to  be  the  chronic 


PLATE  VI. 


FIG.    l6.        RELIEF    ON    THE    ARCH    OF    TITUS. 
Showing  the  Trumpets  (hatsotserotJi]  taken  from  Herod's  Temple. 


FIG.    17.        DETAIL    FROM    FIG.    l6. 


FIG.    l8.       TRUMPETS    ON    ANCIENT    JEWISH    COIN. 
(After  Madden.) 


MUSIC    IN    THE   OLD   TESTAMENT.  255 

state  of  things  in  Algiers.  Hence  with  my  particular  gift 
always  and  everywhere  to  get  the  worst  place,  I  was 
pressed  against  the  farthest  wall,  where  it  was  necessary 
in  this  instance  to  stand  for  two  good  hours  wedged  in  a 
tearfully  crowded  corner,  and  so,  greatly  to  my  sorrow, 
many  occurrences  escaped  me. 

Still  the  impression  of  the  whole  was  decidedly  strik- 
ing, presumably  because  of  the  difference  between  male  and 
female  singing.  Never  did  both  groups  perform  together 
in  a  mixed  chorus  (just  as  Orientals  do  not  recognize  a 
dance  between  men  and  women)  but  each  group  sang  by 
itself.  The  song  and  music  of  the  men  was  very  solemn 
and  dignified,  in  slow  time  without  a  distinct  rhythm  or 
melodious  cadence,  but  in  a  sort  of  recitative  (Sprech- 
gesang)  which  is  now  in  vogue  in  the  latest  music.  The 
music  of  the  women  was  very  different.  In  their  perform- 
ance all  was  fire  and  life.  They  sang  in  a  pronounced 
melody  with  sharply  accentuated-  rhythm  in  a  passionate 
tempo,  and  they  treated  the  instruments  upon  which  they 
accompanied  their  singing  with  incredible  expression.  Not 
only  throat  and  fingers  but  the  whole  person  in  all  its  mem- 
bers was  engaged  in  making  music.  If  we  may  imagine 
the  women  who  sang  in  ancient  Israel  entirely  or  approxi- 
mately like  their  modern  feminine  counterparts,  it  is  easy 
to  understand  how  a  man  like  the  prophet  Amos  at  the 
outbreak  of  such  a  band  in  the  temple  at  Bethel  might  have 
received  the  impression  of  a  "variety  show"  in  church. 
And  another  thing  occurred  to  me  in  connection  with  the 
songs  of  those  women,  that  according  to  the  language  of 
music  they  are  all  composed  in  minor,  and  indeed  only 
in  the  two  scales  of  D  Minor  and  A  Minor,  which  with 
their  characteristic  intervals  in  the  case  of  the  so-called 
"church"  keys  have  been  named  Doric  and  Aeolic, — so 
then  we  see  that  just  as  a  deep  meaning  often  lies  in  the 
games  of  children,  the  familiar  German  pun  that  the  trum- 


256  THE  MONIST. 

pets  of  the  Israelites  before  the  walls  of  Jericho  were 
blown  in  the  key  of  D  Minor  (D  moll)  because  they  de- 
molished those  walls,  was  not  made  entirely  out  of  whole 
cloth. 

This  brings  us  quite  naturally  to  the  question  whether 
or  not  the  music  of  ancient  Israel  had  a  tone  system  and 
a  definite  scale.  When  even  on  the  earliest  Egyptian  and 
Assyrian  monuments  the  pointed  harps  have  strings  of 
constantly  diminishing  length  and  the  flutes  have  sound- 
holes  where  the  players  manipulate  their  fingers,  it  is  ab- 
solutely necessary  for  us  to  investigate  this  question,  for 
these  pictorial  illustrations  testify  to  definite  tones  of  vary- 
ing pitch  and  in  that  case  a  fixed  scale  must  have  previously 
existed. 

To  be  sure  I  must  at  the  outset  abandon  one  means  of 
determining  this  scale,  and  that  is  accent.  Besides  the 
vowel  signs  our  Hebrew  texts  have  also  so-called  accents 
which  perform  a  threefold  function;  first  as  accent  in  its 
proper  signification  to  indicate  the  stress  of  voice,  then  as 
punctuation  marks,  and  finally  as  musical  notation.  This 
accent  also  denotes  a  definite  melisma,  or  a  definite  cadence 
according  to  which  the  emphasized  word  in  the  intoned 
discourse  of  the  synagogue  (the  so-called  nig  gun84)  was 
to  be  recited.  The  learned  bishop  of  the  Moravian  Breth- 
ren and  counsellor  of  the  Brandenburg  consistory,  Daniel 
Ernst  Jablonski,  in  the  preface  to  the  Berlin  edition  of  1699 
of  the  Old  Testament  made  under  his  patronage,  under- 
took to  rewrite  these  accents  according  to  the  custom  of 
the  Sefardim,  (that  is,  of  the  Spanish-Portuguese  Jews) 
in  modern  notes  and  has  thus  rewritten  in  notes  one  longer 
coherent  passage  in  Genesis  (xlviii.  15,  16),  which  I 
sometimes  have  occasion  to  sing  to  my  students  at  col- 
lege. But  this  nig  gun,  as  evidence  has  lately  been  found 
to  prove,  is  of  Christian  origin,  an  imitation  of  the  so- 


<  s 


MUSIC    IN   THE  OLD  TESTAMENT.  257 

called  neumes?5  used  in  the  Greco-Syrian  communities  of 
the  Orient  in  reciting  the  Gospels,  and  accordingly  has  been  f 
handed  down  from  the  church  to  the  synagogue,  and  so 
for  ancient  Israel  and  its  music  has  no  meaning  ;  —  at  least 
directly,  for  the  Church  was  essentially  under  Greek  in- 
fluence, and  Greek  music  must  not  be  identified  with  that 
of  ancient  Israel,  nor  must  the  latter  be  constructed  accord- 
ing to  the  former.  The  only  trace,  although  an  uncertain 
one,  in  the  Old  Testament  itself  appears  in  the  expression 
which  I  have  however  already  mentioned,  and  which  Lu- 
ther translates  "on  eight  strings"  (auf  acht  Saiten).  But 
in  Hebrew  the  word  is  sheminith"  meaning  "ordinal  num- 
ber" so  that  we  must  not  translate  "on  eight"  but  "on  (or 
after)  the  eighth."  Accordingly  a  musician  can  hardly  do 
otherwise  than  insert  this  "eighth"  in  the  familiar  octave, 
the  foundation  of  our  tone  system,  and  assume  that  the 
ancient  Israelites  also  had  a  scale  of  seven  intervals  so  that 
the  eighth  becomes  the  same  scale  but  placed  an  octave 
higher.  And  this  interpretation  has  also  a  support  in  the 
Old  Testament.  Our  principal  source  for  the^  music  of 
ancient  Israel  is  the  Biblical  book  of  Chronicles  which  has 

4 

evidently  been  written  by  a  specialist,  a  Levitical  musician 
of  the  temple,  who  offers  us  a  complete  series  of  technical 
statements  with  regard  to  ancient  musical  culture.  So  we 
read  in  one  of  the  most  important  passages  (  i  Chron.  xv. 
20,  21  )  that  a  circle  of  temple  musicians  played  upon  the 
neb  el,  the  harp,  al  alamoth*7  literally  translated  "after  the 
manner  of  maidens,"  and  another  on  the  kinnor,  the  lute, 
al  hashshemimth*8  literally,  "after  the  eighth."  By  the 
designation  "after  the  manner  of  maidens"  can  only  be 
meant  the~high  clear  voices  of  women,  that  is  to  say  so- 
prano, and  then  it  is  of  course  natural  to  see  in  the  "eighth" 
the  deeper  voices  of  the  men  an  octave  lower.  If  this  com- 
bination is  correct,  and  it  is  at  least  very  promising,  we 


85 


258  THE  MONIST. 

see  clearly  proven  in  it  the  existence  of  a  scale  of  seven 
intervals,  even  if  we  know  nothing  about  the  particular 
intervals  and  their  relation  to  each  other. 

Another  characteristic  of  the  music  of  ancient  Israel 
is  that  it  does  not  take  into  account  pure  instrumental 
music,  the  so-called  absolute  music,  but  on  the  contrary 
regards  instruments  simply  as  accompaniment  for  singing. 
The  usage  of  the  language  is  significant  with  regard  to 
this  point.  The  Hebrew  calls  instruments  kele  hashshir," 
"instruments  of  song"  and  calls  musicians  simply  "sing- 
ers" ;  for  it  has  long  been  observed  that  in  the.  passages 
which  treat  of  singers  in  the  proper  sense  a  particular  form 
of  the  participle  is  always  found,  the  so-called  Kal*°  while 
another  participial  form  of  the  same  root,  the  so-called 
Polel^  designates  musicians  in  general.  Accordingly  Is- 
rael considers  the  essential  nature  and  the  foundation  of 
all  music  to  be  in  song,  in  Melos.  And  what  an  ingenious 
instinct,  what  an  artistic  delicacy  of  feeling  is  given  utter- 
ance in  this  designation!  The  end  pursued  by  modern 
music  is  to  compress  the  living  human  voice  into  a  dead 
instrument,  while  the  great  musicians  of  all  times  have 
considered  it  their  task  rather  to  let  the  instruments  sing, 
to  put  a  living  human  soul  into  the  dead  wood,  metal,  or 
sheepgut.  Such  was  the  case  with  the  people  of  Israel. 

Likewise  the  music  of  ancient  Israel  knew  nothing  of 
polyphony  which  is  an  abomination  to  Orientals  in  gen- 
eral. And  to  be  sure  must  not  polyphony  be  designated  as 
a  two-edged  sword  ?  For  counterpoint  is  commonly  under- 
stood to  come  in  exactly  at  the  point  when  the  musician 
lacks  melody  and  conception.  And  what  is  even  the  most 
artistic  polyphony  of  a  Richard  Strauss  or  a  Max  Reger 
compared  to  the  heavenly  melody  of  the  larghetto  in  Mo- 
zart's clarinet  quintet!  What  the  chronicler  considers  an 
ideal  performance  is  stated  in  a  characteristic  passage: 

89  TTn  VTO 


MUSIC    IN   THE  OLD  TESTAMENT.  259 

"It  came  even  to  pass,  as  the  trumpeters  and  singers  were 
as  one,  to  make  one  sound  to  be  heard  in  praising  and 
thanking  the  Lord"  (2  Chron.  v.  13).  Hence  a  single 
powerful  unisono  is  the  ideal  of  the  music  of  ancient  Israel. 

The  passage  of  Chronicles  above  quoted,  leads  us  to  the 
dedication  of  Solomon's  temple.  And  since  Israel  is  the 
nation  of  religion,  and  as  we  are  moreover  best  informed 
by  the  chronicler  just  about  temple  music,  we  shall  in  con- 
clusion make  an  attempt  to  sketch  a  picture  of  the  temple 
music  of  ancient  Israel. 

With  regard  to  the  orchestra  of  the  temple,  the  lack  of 
wooden  wind-instruments  is  noteworthy.  Even  the  flute 
is  mentioned  only  once  in  connection  with  a  procession  of 
pilgrims  (Is.  xxx.  29), 42  but  never  in  connection  with  the 
worship  proper. 

Since  the  trumpets  were  reserved  for  the  use  of  the 
priests  in  giving  signals  at  certain  definite  places  in  the 
ritual,  the  temple  orchestra  consisted  only  of  stringed  in- 
struments, harps  and  lutes,  so  that  the  music  of  the  temple 
is  repeatedly  called  simply  "stringed  music,"  neginah.43 

And  to  these  stringed  instruments  cymbals  also  may 
be  added.  These  three  instruments,  cymbals,  harps  and 
lutes  are  always  mentioned  in  this  order  as  played  by  the 
Levites. 

The  Levites  were  again  divided  into  three  groups  after 
David's  three  singing  masters,  Asaph,  Heman  and  Jedu- 
thun  (sometimes  Ethan).  Since  these  three  names  always 
occur  in  the  same  order  we  are  led  to  combine  the  corres- 
ponding systems  and  to  give  to  Asaph  the  cymbals,  to 
Heman  the  "harp,  and  to  Jeduthun  the  lute;  and  for  the 
first  and  third  of  these  combinations  we  have  corroborative 

48  The  Polychrome  Bible  reads  "Joy  of  heart  like  his  who  sets  forth  to 
the  flute  to  go  to  the  mountain  of  Yahveh,"  but  in  the  authorized  version  the 
instrument  is  called  "pipe"  and  not  "flute."  Tr. 

43  rWM.  In  the  headings  of  Psalms  iv,  vi,  liv,  Iv,  Ixi,  Ixvii,  and  Ixxvi.  C£ 
also  Is.  xxxviii.  20;  and  Hab.  iii.  19. 


26O  THE  MONIST. 

quotations:  Once  in  i  Chron.  xvi.  5,  it  is  expressly  men- 
tioned as  a  function  of  Asaph,  that  he  "made  a  sound  with 
cymbals" ;  and  again  in  i  Chron.  xxv.  3,  Jeduthun  is  men- 
tioned as  he  "who  prophesied  with  a  lute."44  This  shows 
us  how  to  understand  the  heading  of  the  three  Psalms 
xxxix,  Ixii,  and  Ixxvii,  "To  Jeduthun."45  These  evidently 
are  to  be  accompanied  only  by  Jeduthun  with  the  lute,  and 
this  agrees  with  the  grave  and  somber  character  of  those 
three  psalms. 

This  indicates  that  even  in  the  most  primitive  beginnings 
there  was  an  art  of  instrumentation  which  took  into  con- 
sideration the  timbre  of  the  instruments,  and  as  a  modern 
analogy  we  might  point  out  certain  priestly  passages  in  the 
Magic  Flute.  The  wonderful  effect  of  these  passages  rests 
on  the  fact  that  Mozart  neglected  the  common  usage 
(which  would  have  combined  two  violins  with  a  tenor  and 
bass  viol  in  the  string  quartette)  and  left  out  the  violins, 
assigning  the  quartette  exclusively  to  the  viols.  But  just 
here  in  this  division  of  instruments  is  a  point  expressly 
handed  down  by  tradition,  which  must  appear  strange  to 
us:  to  Asaph  who  is  always  mentioned  in  the  first  place 
and  apparently  acts  as  the  first  orchestra  leader,  is  assigned 
only  the  ringing  brass  of  the  cymbals.  But  these  cymbals 
apparently  served  the  purpose  of  a  baton  in  the  hand  of  a 
modern  orchestra  leader  marking  the  rhythm  with  their 
sharp  penetrating  tone  and  so  holding  together  the  whole. 
The  trumpets  of  the  priests  were  to  serve  the  people  as  "a 
memorial  before  God"  (Num.  x.  9-10).  Hence  they  are 
in  some  measure  a  knocking  at  the  door  of  God,  and  ap- 
parently have  the  same  function  as  the  bell  at  a  Catholic 

44  The  English  version  translates  this  also  as  "harp."    Tr. 

45  Wellhausen  in  his  Notes  to  the  Polychrome  Edition  of  The  Book  of 
Psalms  thus  explains  the  word  which  he  translates  as  "for  (or  from)  Jedu- 
thun."   "Jeduthun,  like  Korah  and  Asaph,  was  the  name  of  a  post-Exilic  guild 
of  temple-musicians. ..  .Hence  the  Psalms  may  have  been  attributed  to  them 
originally  in  just  the  same  way  that  many  German  hymns  are  attributed  to  the 
Moravian  Brethren :  they  belonged  originally  to  a  private  collection,  and  sub- 
sequently found  their  way  into  the  common  hymn-book."    Tr. 


MUSIC    IN   THE   OLD  TESTAMENT.  26l 

mass  in  giving  the  people  the  signal  to  fall  upon  their  knees 
(2  Chron.  xxix.  27-28).  The  supposition  has  been  ex- 
pressed that  the  puzzling  selah  in  the  Psalms,  which  un- 
doubtedly had  a  musical  liturgical  sense  and  indicated  an 
interruption  of  the  singing  by  instruments,  marked  the 
places  where  the  priests  blew  their  trumpets — an  assump- 
tion which  can  be  neither  proved  nor  disproved. 

What  now  is  the  case  with  regard  to  the  temple  song 
which  of  course  was  the  singing  of  psalms?  We  learn 
from  Chronicles  that  the  later  usage  removed  women's 
voices  from  the  service  and  recognized  only  Levitical  sing- 
ers. In  a  remarkable  passage  (Psalms  Ixviii.  25)  which 
describes  a  procession  of  the  second  temple  the  women  still 
come  into  prominence  as  "damsels  playing  with  timbrels" 
but  ordinarily  only  male  singers  and  lute  players  are  men- 
tioned. But  if  Psalm  xlvi,  for  instance,  were  sung  accord- 
ing to  its  inscription  "after  the  manner  of  maidens,"46  we 
must  assume  that  the  men  sang  in  a  falsetto,  just  as  not 
so  very  long  ago  when  women's  voices  were  in  the  same 
manner  excluded  from  the  service  of  the  Evangelical 
Church,  falsetto  was  regularly  practised  and  belonged  to 
the  art  of  Church  music. 

With  regard  to  the  melodies  to  which  the  Psalms  were 
sung,  here  again,  as  it  seems,  we  have  the  same  process 
as  in  the  German  Church  songs.  When  we  find  ascribed 
to  the  Psalms  as  melodies  the  words  "To  the  Tune  of  the 
Winepress,"47  Psalms  viii,  Ixxxi,  Ixxxiv;  "To  the  Tune 
of  Lilies,"48  Psalms  xlv,  Ix,  Ixix,  Ixxx;  "To  the  Tune  of 
The  Hind  of^the  Dawn,"49  Psalm  xxii;  "To  the  Tune  of 
The  Dove  of  Far-off  Islands,"50  Psalm  Ivi;  or  according 

46  This  part  of  the  heading  to  Psalm  xlvi,  Luther  translates,  "Von  der 
Jugend,  vorzusingen" ;  the  authorized  English  version  gives  "a  song  upon 
Alamoth";  and  the  Polychrome  Bible  says  "with  Elamite  instruments."  Tr. 

47  rrmn  by  if  derived  from  H3  winepress.  «  WVW  by 

49  "iniz?n  nrx  by 

60  E"pm  E5N  n:V  by,  the  B5«  being  regarded  as  an  error  in  writing  D"X« 


262  THE  MONIST. 

to  the  somewhat  doubtful  interpretation,  Ps.  v,  "To  the 
Tune  of  A  Swarm  of  Bees/'51  we  can  not  doubt  that  they 
originally  were  secular  melodies,  folk-songs  which  found 
admittance  into  the  worship  of  the  people. 

With  regard  to  the  arrangement  of  the  temple  orchestra 
the  chronicler  is  again  able  to  give  us  information:  the 
singing  Levites  stood  at  the  east  end  of  the  bronze  altar 
of  burnt  sacrifice  (2  Chron.  v.  12)  opposite  the  priests 
who  sounded  the  trumpets  (2  Chron.  vii.  6)  ;  that  is  to 
say  to  the  west  of  them.  This  statement  to  be  sure  involves 
difficulties  since  the  whole  temple  was  orientated  from  west 
to  east  so  that  if  the  Levites  stood  before  the  altar  they 
must  have  obstructed  the  entrance  to  its  steps  and  the 
priests  were  entirely  concealed  behind  it.  But  we  must 
not  on  this  account  doubt  the  definite  statement  of  so  com- 
petent an  authority  as  the  chronicler. 

Of  a  musical  liturgical  service  in  the  ancient  temple 
we  have  two  vivid  descriptions:  one  from  the  chronicler 
and  one  from  Jesus  Sirach.  The  chronicler  gives  us  the 
following  description  of  a  Passover  in  the  first  year  of 
the  reign  of  King  Hezekiah  (2  Chron.  xxix.  26-30)  : 

"And  the  Levites  stood  with  the  instruments  of  David, 
and  the  priests  with  the  trumpets. 

And  Hezekiah  commanded  to  offer  the  burnt  offering 
upon  the  altar.  And  when  the  burnt  offering  began,  the 
song  of  the  Lord  began  also  with  the  trumpets,  and  with 
the  instruments  ordained  by  David  king  of  Israel. 

"And  all  the  congregation  worshipped,  and  the  singers 
sang,  and  the  trumpeters  sounded:  and  all  this  continued 
until  the  burnt  offering  was  finished. 

"And  when  they  had  made  an  end  of  offering,  the  king 
and  all  that  were  present  with  him  bowed  themselves,  and 
worshipped. 

"Moreover  Hezekiah  the  king  and  the  princes  com- 


MUSIC    IN   THE   OLD   TESTAMENT.  263 

manded  the  Levites  to  sing  praise  unto  the  Lord  with  the 
words  of  David,  and  of  Asaph  the  seer.  And  they  sang 
praises  with  gladness,  and  they  bowed  their  heads  and 
worshipped." 

And  Jesus  Sirach  says  in  describing  the  installation  of 
Simon,  a  contemporary,  as  high  priest,  (Ecclesiasticus  1. 
15-21): 

"He  stretched  out  his  hand  to  the  cup,  and  poured  of 
the  blood  of  the  grape,  he  poured  out  at  the  foot  of  the 
altar  a  sweetsmelling  savour  unto  the  most  high  King  of 
all. 

"Then  shouted  the  sons  of  Aaron,  and  sounded  the 
silver  trumpets,  and  made  a  great  noise  to  be  heard,  for 
a  remembrance  before  the  most  High. 

"Then  all  the  people  together  hasted,  and  fell  down  to 
the  earth  upon  their  faces  to  worship  their  Lord  God  Al- 
mighty, the  most  High.  , 

"The  singers  also  sang  praises  with  their  voices,  with 
great  variety  of  sounds  was  there  made  sweet  melody. 

"And  the  people  besought  the  Lord,  the  most  High, 
by  prayer  before  him  that  is  merciful,  till  the  solemnity 
of  the  Lord  was  ended,  and  they  had  finished  the  service. 

"Then  he  went  down,  and  lifted  up  his  hands  over  the 
whole  congregation  of  the  children  of  Israel,  to  give  the 
blessing  of  the  Lord  with  his  lips,  and  to  rejoice  in  his  name. 

"And  they  bowed  themselves  down  to  worship  the  sec- 
ond time,  that  they  might  receive  a  blessing  from  the  most 
High." 

Here  we  see  art  inserted  organically  in  the  whole  of  the 
service;  music  too,  like  the  swallow,  had  found  a  nest  on 
the  altar  of  the  Lord  of  Hosts  (Psalm  Ixxxiv,  3). 

From  such  descriptions  we  comprehend  the  enthusiastic 
love  and  devotion  of  the  Israelite  for  his  temple  where 
everything  that  was  beautiful  in  his  eyes  was  consecrated 
and  illumined  by  religion,  where  he  "might  behold  the 


264  THE  MONIST. 

beautiful  worship  of  the  Lord,"  as  Luther  translates  Ps. 
xxvii.  4,  incorrectly  to  be  sure,  but  most  comfortingly;52 
and  music  has  contributed  the  richest  share  in  making 
this  "beautiful  worship  of  the  Lord." 

Both  the  secular  and  temple  music  of  ancient  Israel 
have  long  since  died  out  in  silence.  Not  one  tone  has  re- 
mained alive,  not  one  note  of  her  melodies  do  we  hear,  but 
not  in  vain  did  it  resound  in  days  of  old.  Without  temple 
music  there  would  be  no  temple  song ;  without  temple  song, 
no  psalms.  The  psalms  belong  to  the  most  precious  treas- 
ures among  the  spiritual  possessions  of  mankind ;  these  we 
owe  to  the  music  of  ancient  Israel,  and  in  them  the  temple 
music  of  ancient  Israel  continues  to  live  to-day  and  will 
endure  for  all  time. 

CARL  HEINRICH  CORNILL. 

BRESLAU,  GERMANY. 

sa  The  authorized  version  has  simply  "the  beauty  of  the  Lord."    Tr. 


SOME  CURRENT  BELIEFS  IN  THE  LIGHT  OF 
HERACLEITUS'S  DOCTRINE. 

THE  "sage''  of  Ephesus  "flourished,"  we  are  told,  in 
the  sixty-ninth  Olympiad,  five  hundred  years  before 
Christ.  But  the  fallacies  he  then  attacked  are  still  com- 
monly held  and  taught ;  for  his  argument  is  seldom  studied 
and  little  understood.  Heracleitus  himself  was  oppressed 
with  a  sense  of  the  novelty  of  his  teaching,  and  by  the 
difficulty  of  rendering  it  in  terms  of  speech  and  thought 
then  current.  His  message,  thefefore,  is  set  in  metaphor, 
and  needs  reinterpretation  for  each  succeeding  age ;  so  that 
men  still  come  upon  his  meaning  as  upon  hidden  gold. 

"Uttering  things  solemn  and  unadorned,  he  reaches 
over  a  thousand  years  with  his  voice,  because  of  the 
god  in  him." 

A.  Let  us  first  consider  his  attitude  towards  material- 
ism. Just  as  we  say  that  energy  and  even  the  amount  of 
energy  persist,  while  kinetic  energy  becomes  potential,  and 
potential  energy  becomes  kinetic;  so  Anaximenes  had 
taught  that  something  he  called  ether  persists,  while  it  is 
alternately  condensed  and  rarefied,  to  form  all  the  phe- 
nomena of  life.  Heracleitus  argues  that  we  can  not  find 
anything  which  thus  persists. 


"All  things  change;  nothing  abides." 
The  life  of  one  thing  is  the  death  of  another.    Of  that 


266  THE  MONIST. 

energy  which  is  said  to  persist  unchanged  in  amount,  no 
account  can  be  given,  nor  can  any  reason  be  advanced  for 
supposing  that  there  is  such  a  "something,  I  know  not 
what."  As  Mach  has  said,  all  that  we  know  is  that  in  many 
cases  kinetic  energy  which  has  been  expended,  or  potential 
energy  that  has  ceased  to  exist,  may  be  recovered', — as 
where  a  ball  is  thrown  into  the  air,  where  rain  is  lifted 
to  the  mountain  tops,  where  chemical  elements  or  mag- 
netized particles  are  sundered,  where  heat  and  mechanical 
energy  are  converted  into  electrical  "stress,"  and  zw^z^nya. 
It  is  mere  metaphor  to  say  that  the  energy  persists,  for  we 
can  not  assign  to  energy  any  meaning  which  is  common 
to  kinetic  and  to  potential  energy,  except  the  possibility 
of  reversing  the  change.  In  other  words  it  is  not  the 
thing,  energy,  but  the  order,  the  law  of  reversibility,  which 
persists. 

Therefore,  from  the  never  ending  flux  of  things,  Herac- 
leitus  directs  our  attention  to  the  order,  which  he  conceives 
to  be  "the  same  in  all  things";  which  "no  one  of  gods  or 
men  has  made." 

B.  But  his  argument  is  fatal  to  a  view  that  has  been 
adopted  by  a  large  part  of  the  Christian  Church,  that  this 
unchanging  order  is  one  day  to  take  the  place  of  the  pres- 
ent flux  and  strife  of  opposites  in  the  world  we  know.  The 
order  exists  now  in  the  strife  and  must  be  found  there. 
A  world  of  peace  is  a  world  of  death. 

"Homer  was  wrong  in  saying  'would  that  strife 
might  perish  from  among  gods  and  men !'  He  did  not 
know  that  he  was  praying  for  the  destruction  of  the 
universe ;  for  if  his  prayer  were  heard  all  things  would 
pass  away."  "War  is  the  father  of  all  and  the  king  of 
all." 

C.  A  view  still  more  popular  among  us  receives  from 
Heracleitus  some  deadly  blows.     Evolution  and  progress 


CURRENT   BELIEFS  AND   HERACLEITUS.  267 

and  betterment  seem  to  many  essential,  if  the  world  is  to 
have  meaning.  Heracleitus  shows  that  for  the  universe, 
at  least,  progress  is  a  superficial  aspect.  For  every  move- 
ment and  development  seems  to  await  a  day  of  reversal, — 
of  degeneration.  The  law  of  compensation  is  world-wide. 
Movement  is  not  continuous  in  any  direction,  but  oscillates 
around  some  fixed  measure.  The  life  of  man  and  of  the 
earth,  the  solar  system  and  the  bi-polar  drift  of  the  stars 
seem  to  await  a  day  when  their  present  tendencies  will  be 
reversed.  And  if  this  is  so,  then  how  superficial  is  that 
progress  which,  after  all,  is  but  an  approach  to  the  day 
when  the  return  movement  will  begin. 

And  it  must  be  noted  that  all  progress  implies  a  stand- 
ard of  preference.  But,  "for  the  gods,"  all  things  that  are, 
are  good,  and  all  standards  of  preference  are  based  upon 
the  partial  outlook  of  the  individual. 

"Men  themselves  have  made  a  law  unto  themselves, 
not  knowing  what  they  made  it  about;  but  the  gods 
have  ordered  the  nature  of  all  things.  Now  the  ar- 
rangements which  men  have  made  are  never  constant, 
neither  when  they  are  right  nor  when  they  are  wrong ; 
but  all  the  arrangements  which  the  gods  have  made 
are  always  right,  both  when  they  are  right  and  when 
they  are  wrong.  So  great  is  the  difference." 

D.  But  the  pessimism  which  a  late  tradition  has  as- 
signed him  receives  in  fact  from  Heracleitus  a  splendid 
refutation.  All  the  negations  we  have  thus  far  considered, 
—of  fixity  in  things,  of  an  ultimate  peace,  of  genuine 
progress,  refer,  he  says,  in  the  nature  of  the  case,  to  a  re- 
stricted point  of  view,  which  unfortunately  has  always 
prevailed  among  men.  Ignorance  and  passion  confine  us 
each  one  in  a  world  of  our  own,  which  is  related  to  the 
real  world,  the  common  world,  much  as  the  land  of  dreams 
is  related  to  that  world  of  waking  life,  which  all  men  in 


268  THE  MONIST. 

some  measure  share.  The  wise  man  alone  is  fully  awake, 
and,  looking  at  the  world  without  prejudice,  he  sees,  not 
merely  a  world  of  good  and  evil,  and  a  constant  flux  of 
particular  things,  but  rather  a  single,  splendid,  flaming 
life,  "an  everliving  fire,"  in  which  fixed,  eternal  measures 
prevail. 

To  him  the  strife  of  the  world  is  not  mere  confusion, 
but  the  opposition  of  forces  which,  through  their  tension, 
stretch  the  chords  of  life  to  an  infinite  variety  of  tones. 
These,  when  touched  by  the  spirit  of  contemplation,  sound 
to  the  ear  of  wisdom  like  a  harmony  of  unequaled  beauty. 

The  path  towards  wisdom  would  seem,  then,  to  be  de- 
fined in  a  comparatively  simple  fashion.  To  know  the  life 
of  the  world  man  must  cherish  in  himself,  also,  a  similar 
life,  not  hoping  to  attain  the  passionless  light  of  the  gods, 
but  preserving  in  his  soul  the  balance  appropriate  to  it, 
between  the  control  of  reason  and  the  satisfaction  of  desire. 
He  will  participate  in  the  conflicts  of  life,  and  enter  fully 
into  their  zest  and  glory.  But  he  will  look  for  his  real 
satisfaction,  not  in  the  outcome  of  the  conflict,  but  in  the 
perception  of  the  nature  of  the  conflict.  Thus  the  poli- 
tician, while  contending  valiantly,  will  have  every  minute 
his  prize  and  pleasure,  in  noting  throughout  the  strife  the 
operation  of  the  laws  of  political  life,  of  party  government, 
and  of  human  nature.  Wisdom,  therefore,  is  to  be  viewed 
not  so  much  as  an  accumulation,  but  as  insight,  momen- 
tarily renewed.  Thus  the  wise  man  is  ever  poor, — "in 
spirit," — for  his  wealth  never  stays  with  him,  but  comes 
and  goes  each  instant.  He  ever  hungers  and  thirsts  for 
righteousness,  and  is  ever  filled.  In  this  way  his  is  the 
kingdom  of  heaven. 

This  I  take  to  be  the  teaching  of  Heracleitus. 

PERCY  HUGHES,  PH.D. 
LEHIGH  UNIVERSITY,  SOUTH  BETHLEHEM,  PA. 


DAVID    HUME'S    NATURAL   HISTORY   OF    RE- 
LIGION. 

1^  HE  great  historical  interest  attaching  to  Natural  His- 
tory of  Religion*  is  due  to  its  being  the  origin  of  the 
modern  science  of  religion.  Considering  the  non-existence 
of  any  previous  work  and  the  material  at  disposal — very 
limited  compared  to  that  at  hand  nowadays — one  cannot 
help  admiring  Hume's  lucidity  and  precision  in  laying  down 
those  questions  of  principle  still  treated  by  the  present 
science  of  religion.  Not  the  less  amazing  is  his  develop- 
ment of  religion  in  its  main  features.  It  has  taken  more 
than  a  century  before  this  development  has  met  with  imi- 
tations perhaps  equal  to  Hume's  old  work,  a  fact  which 
imparts  to  it  a  value  far  beyond  the  historical  one. 

The  philosophy  of  religion  is  generally  divided  in  three 
parts :  the  metaphysical,  criticising  the  theoretical  validity 

*  Hume's  Natural  History  of  Religion,  which  was  written  about  1751  and 
published  1757,  is  printed  in  Green  and  Grose's  Standard  edition  of  Hume's 
works  and  in  the  old  editions  of  his  essays,  which  are  now  only  to  be  had  at 
secondhand.  The  need  of  a  cheap  edition  of  Hume's  essays  has  given  rise  to 
a  most  objectionable  undertaking,  Ward,  Lock  &  Bowden  (afterwards  Rout- 
ledge  &  Sons)  having  brought  out  an  edition,  the  anonymous  publisher  of 
which  omits  sentences  of  vital  importance — no  doubt  on  account  of  a  certain 
bigoted  tendency.  The  result  is  a  corruption  of  Hume's  opinion  of  so  auda- 
cious a  nature  as  to  be  almost  unequalled  in  modern  times.  In  order  to 
counteract  this  abominable  falsification  and  to  give  Hume's  ingenious  work  a 
wider  circulation  than  its  present  one,  Mr.  John  W.  Robertson  has  arranged 
a  separate  edition  at  a  price  of  one  shilling.  This  edition,  perfectly  correct, 
with  an  excellent  preface  (A.  and  H.  Bradlaugh  Bonner)  makes  the  public  in 
England  and  all  the  world  over  indebted  to  him.  Wishing  to  draw  attention 
to  this  meritorious  little  edition  I  shall  also  endeavor  to  show  the  significance 
of  Hume's  work,  a  significance  which  only  of  late  has  been  fully  conceived. 
In  this  way  I  want  to  give  a  clue  which  will  make  the  apprehension  easier; 
without  such  a  clue  it  is  often  somewhat  difficult  to  catch  the  principal  ideas 
of  the  work,  partly  veiled  by  additions  commanded  by  time  and  circumstances. 


27O  THE  MONIST. 

of  religious  notions;  the  ethical,  treating  the  value  of  re- 
ligion in  behalf  of  the  individual  and  the  race;  and  the 
psychological  historical,  examining  the  origin  and  develop- 
ment of  religious  conceptions. 

It  is  this  last,  the  proper  science  of  religion,  of  which 
Hume  has  laid  the  foundation  in  the  present  work.  But 
a  criticism  of  the  religious  notions  must  precede  an  exami- 
nation depending  on  the  fundamental  idea  that  the  religious 
notions  are  only  to  be  explained  through  psychology  and 
history.  The  work  of  Hume's  which  originated  the  modern 
science  of  religion  as  its  principal  point  of  view  implies  a 
spiritual  development  in  the  history  of  human  thought. 
By  another  work  Dialogues  Concerning  Natural  Religion 
(written  in  1751,  but  not  published  till  1779,  three  years 
after  Hume's  death)  Hume  finished  the  critical  examina- 
tion, returning  the  last  question  of  science  in  reply  to  the 
question  of  the  theoretical  validity  of  religious  notions. 
Besides  being  the  founder  of  the  proper  science  of  religion, 
Hume  became  the  accomplisher  of  the  critical  philosophy  of 
religion,  the  latter  quality  determining  the  former.  In  the 
history  of  religious  problems  he  is  the  great  focus  concen- 
trating all  the  rays,  his  contribution  in  this  domain  prov- 
ing him  a  pioneer  still  more  than  his  examinations  con- 
cerning metaphysics  and  ethics — examinations  which  are 
far  more  appreciated. 

The  great  development  in  the  history  of  English  in- 
tellectual science  which  Hume's  thoughts  rested  upon  and 
brought  to  an  end,  is  generally  comprised  under  the  name 
of  English  deism.  The  criticism  of  the  popular  notion  of 
God,  hidden  under  the  new  name  "deism,"  originated  in 
Greece  like  most  other  pioneering  thoughts.  Xenophanes, 
the  founder  of  the  Eleatic  school,  was  the  first  known 
person  entitled  to  the  name  of  deist.  He  was  the  originator 
as  Hume  was  the  accomplisher.  He  started  the  inquiry 
into  religion  in  a  purely  psychological  way.  The  deism  of 


DAVID  HUME  S  NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  RELIGION.      271 

recent  time  refers  to  antiquity.  The  rupture  with  the  in- 
herited range  of  ideas  indicated  by  deism  in  the  philosophy 
of  the  Renaissance,  originated  in  the  thoughts  of  Plato, 
Aristotle  and  the  Stoics.  The  first  pioneers  are  Cusanus 
(De  pace  sen  concordia  ftdei,  1453),  Ficinus  (De  religione 
Christiana,  1474),  Montaigne  (Essays,  1580),  and  espe- 
cially Bodin,  who  in  1593  wrote  the  Colloquium  heptaplo- 
meres,  a  religious  philosophical  work  which,  however, 
became  of  no  great  consequence,  as  it  appeared  only  in 
a  few  manuscript  copies  circulating  exclusively  in  the 
literary  world.  Even  if  Bodin  is  the  actual  founder  of 
deism,  it  was  the  English  philosophy  that  had  to  prepare 
the  way  from  a  historical  point  of  view.  The  English 
deism  was  initiated  by  Herbert  of  Cherbury  (1581-1648) 
as  the  doctrine  of  "natural  religion."  It  was  then  gen- 
erally believed  that  one  could  refer  to  a  "law  of  nature/' 
certain  unchangeable  principles  forming  the  immovable 
basis  of  any  judicial  system.  In  like  manner  Herbert  of 
Cherbury  was  of  the  opinion  that  all  religions  rest  on  five 
axioms,  which  in  their  pure  state  form  the  historical  basis 
of  the  later,  misrepresented  popular  religions.  This  quint- 
essence of  religion  tends  to  prove  the  existence  of  a  God 
best  worshiped  by  piety,  and  the  fact  of  a  future  life,  ad- 
ministering reward  and  wrath,  and  in  a  mere  psychological 
way  Herbert  of  Cherbury  founded  the  five  fundamental 
dogmas  on  natural  instinct  (De  veritate,  1624,  De  religione 
gentilium,  1645).  By  his  arguments  for  the  existence  of 
God,  Descartes  (1596-1650)  tried  to  give  the  "natural 
religion"  a  rational  basis  (Meditationes,  1641).  The  same 
aim  appears  in  Locke  (1632-1704),  who  by  definite  ex- 
amples wanted  to  fasten  the  "natural  religion"  trying  at 
the  same  time  to  bring  it  in  closer  connection  with  the 
dogmas  of  Christianity  (Reasonableness  of  Christianity, 
1695).  This  tendency  transforms  "natural  religion"  into 
Locke's  rationalism,  continued  by  Clarke  (1675-1729), 


272  THE  MONIST. 

Wollaston  (1659-1724),  and  Toland  (1670-1722)  in  his 
first  work  (Christianity  not  Mysterious,  1696).  The  close 
connection  which  Locke  wished  to  establish  between  nat- 
ural and  revealed  religion,  was  again  loosened  by  the 
genuine  deists  in  the  i8th  century.  The  protagonists  are 
Toland  (chiefly  by  Pantheistic  on,  1720),  Shaftesbury 
(1671-1713),  Collins  (1676-1729),  Tindal  (1656-1733), 
Chubb  (1679-1742),  Bolingbroke  (1662-1751),  and  Mor- 
gan (  P-I743).  All  of  them  decidedly  maintained  that  the 
moral  principle,  being  independent  of  the  positive  religions, 
is  the  true  basis  of  any  religion,  assertions  which  made 
them  confine  true  religion  in  a  very  few  doctrines,  i.  e., 
natural  religion  was  again  severed  from  Christianity,  op- 
posing it  in  a  more  conscious  way  than  before.  Generally 
the  arguments  for  natural  religion  were  adhered  to,  and  in 
some  places  the  need  of  a  historical  view  of  religion  wras 
manifest.  This  tendency  appears  with  Morgan,  but  most 
obviously  with  Conyers  Middleton  ( 1683-1750)  in  his  Let- 
ter from  Rome  (1729),  but  Hume  and  Gibbon  (1737-97) 
were  the  first  authors  who  made  it  more  than  mere  at- 
tempts. 

'  In  Dialogues  Concerning  Natural  Religion  Hume  crit- 
icises the  prevailing  arguments  for  the  existence  of  God, 
first  answering  the  cosmological  and  ontological  ones.  The 
main  attack  is  turned  against  the  argument  from  the  ade- 
quacy of  the  world,  in  refuting  which  Hume  gets  an  oppor- 
tunity to  give  an  ingenious  anticipation  of  Darwin's  theory 
(Parts  V  and  VIII).  The  work  is  formed  as  a  dialogue 
between  three  persons,  an  orthodox,  only  serving  the  others 
as  a  pawn  on  the  chess-board,  a  representative  of  English 
deism,  and  finally  Philo,  a  skeptic  whose  argumentation 
occupies  the  greater  part  of  the  work.  Hume's  preference 
for  presenting  his  critical  philosophy  of  religion  in  the 
form  of  a  dialogue  is  certainly  to  be  understood  as  a  meas- 
ure of  precaution.  At  that  time  people  ran  a  risk  in  speak- 


DAVID  HUME'S  NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  RELIGION.      273 

ing  their  mind  plainly.  Hume  did  not  even  venture  to 
publish  the  Dialogues  himself,  but  he  attached  much  im- 
portance to  its  being  published  after  his  death.  His  friends, 
Adam  Smith,  the  famous  political  economist  and  philos- 
opher, and  Wm.  Strahan,  his  publisher,  did  not  venture 
to  undertake  the  publication.  Hume  had  foreseen  this  cir- 
cumstance, and  in  his  last  will  he  appointed  the  younger 
David  Hume,  his  nephew,  to  publish  the  Dialogue  in  case 
of  its  not  appearing  within  two  years  and  a  half  after  his 
death. 

*  In  this  Dialogue  Hume  gives  his  own  conception  of 
life ;  though  he  makes  some  reservations,  it  is  a  fact  beyond 
dispute  that  Philo,  and  only  he,  represents  Hume's  own 
opinions.  These  are  practically  far  behind  the  English 
deism  and  may  be  summed  up  in  the  following  words.  It 
is  no  good  advancing  arguments  for  any  religious  doctrine, 
not  even  for  the  general  dogmas  of  "natural  religion." 
In  contemplating  life  with  all  its  "contrasts  we  are  not  even 
justified  in  assuming  as  reasonable  the  theory  of  a  benevo- 
lent and  mighty  Being.  The  true  conclusion  for  human 
beings  is  the  belief  in  a  world,  carrying  on  its  operations, 
indifferent  to  all  our  notions  of  good  and  evil.  The  world 
itself  is  neither  good  nor  evil.  "It  were  therefore  wise  in 
us  to  limit  all  our  inquiries  to  the  present  world,  without 
looking  farther.  No  satisfaction  can  ever  be  attained  by 
these  speculations  which  so  far  exceed  the  narrow  bounds 
of  human  understanding"  (Part  IV  and  XI)*.  A  further 
penetration  into  the  treatise  will  make  it  evident  that 
Hume's  real  aim  was  against  deism,  natural  religion 
founded  upon  certain  theoretical  or  moral  arguments.  De- 
ism had  made  revealed  religion  irrational.  Hume  pointed 
out  that  religion  is  irrational,  even  in  its  abstractest  and 
most  rational  form,  the  belief  of  the  deist  in  theoretical  or 
ethical  rationality.  The  words  finishing  Natural  History 

*  Vide  Green  &  Grose,  II,  p.  409. 


274  THE  MONIST. 

of  Religion  run  parallel  with  those  sentences  of  Philo,  im- 
parting the  innermost  recesses  of  Hume's  philosophy  of 
life.  His  position  is  that  of  pure  positivism,  which  does  not 
leave  even  religious  and  moral  questions  as  ultimate  ques- 
tions, a  positivism  doing  away  with  those  questions  which 
are  excluded  from  any  rational  solution,  not  acting  in  this 
way  to  end  in  a  barren  skepticism  but  in  the  work  of  secular 
life,  the  most  fertile  and  most  positive  of  all.  Our  path 
through  life  becomes  less  frightful  when  we  perceive  that 
gods  and  hells  are  only  dreams  and  chimeras.  The  persons 
undertaking  the  mere  secular  work  with  the  greater  vigor 
are  those  who  consider  it  their  only  object  of  life,  whose 
limit  is  the  limit  of  all  things.  In  his  works  Hume  imparts 
to  us  his  wisdom  of  life  which  probably  is  to  become  life's 
final  wisdom.  He  speaks  with  plainness  and  simplicity, 
disdaining  the  vague  symbols  and  quaint  words  which  so 
often  have  slurred  and  will  slur  the  simple  gospel  of  life. 
Hume's  ending  in  this  rigorous,  positive  conception  of  life 
was  not  due  to  indolence ;  on  the  contrary,  he  went  to  the 
bottom  of  the  question.  In  his  view  it  was  man's  duty  to 
surrender  everything  to  humanity. 

No  doubt  the  reader  will  wonder  why  Hume  constantly 
treats  of  the  true  and  genuine  theism,  founded  on  incontest- 
able, rational  arguments,  especially  on  those  tending  to 
prove  the  adequacy  of  nature.  But  all  this  is  vox  et  prae- 
terea  nihil.  Hume  has  considered  it  convenient  to  take 
refuge  in  the  abstract  deism.  In  each  chapter  he  makes 
it  an  official  bow,  maintaining  the  old  superiority  which 
characterized  his  occasional  bows  to  Christianity  and  to 
the  Established  Church.  One  has  to  remember  that  Hume 
himself  was  the  publisher  of  this  work,  and  Hume  was  a 
cautious  man  disdaining  religion  and  metaphysics  too  much 
to  entertain  any  wish  of  being  further  inconvenienced  by 
these  things  which  were  utterly  indifferent  to  him.  In  a 
famous  letter  to  his  friend  Edmonstoune  Hume  determines 


DAVID  HUME'S  NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  RELIGION.      275 

what  character  a  young  clergyman  is  to  assume.  The 
young  man  is  a  sort  of  disciple  of  Hume's,  having  acquired 
notions  not  very  consistent  with  his  priestly  character,  i.  e., 
he  does  not  believe  in  all  of  the  Thirty-nine  Articles.  In 
Hume's  opinion  he  is  to  accept  of  the  living  with  an  easy 
mind.  Unfortunately  he  himself  had  spoken  his  mind  too 
plainly  to  be  a  hypocrite  in  this  particular,  but  he  advises 
every  one  not  to  turn  martyr  in  favor  of  some  quite  in- 
different opinions,  concerning  questions  unknown  to  eVery 
one,  but  in  silence  to  worship  the  gods  in  conformity  with 
the  custom  of  the  empire.  "Did  ever  one  make  it  a  point 
of  honor  to  speak  truth  to  children  or  madmen?"  (Burton, 
Life  and  Correspondence  of  David  Hume,  1846,  II,  188). 
Hume  has  been  reproached  for  paying  compliments  to 
Christianity,  a  practice  taking  example  from  the  antecedent 
philosophers  though  contrary  to  Hume's  persuasion.  To 
call  this  proceeding  hypocrisy  would  be  rather  a  strong 
assertion.  In  the  first  place  these  sentences  are  so  cold  and 
formal  that  one  cannot  possibly  attach  too  much  import- 
ance to  them.  In  the  second  place  Hume  did  not  wish  to 
make  himself  a  martyr  for  the  sake  of  Christianity.  Hume 
never  became  a  martyr;  his  very  positivism  must  needs 
consider  it  a  mere  stupidity  to  aim  at  a  martyrdom  which 
could  not  benefit  anybody.  Those  having  a  mission  in  life 
are  the  very  persons  to  comply  with  regard  to  details  in 
order  to  conquer  when  opposed  to  questions  of  vital  im- 
portance. They  make  a  contrast  to  the  little  ones  first 
seeking  the  kingdom  of  God.  Hume  sacrificed  the  formal- 
ities in  order  to  maintain  the  realities.  Though  he  started 
with  a  ceremonious  bow  he  preferred  to  stand  as  a  free 
and  independent  man — rather  than  run  the  risk  of  being 
brought  down  or  crushed  by  a  religion  whose  freedom 
in  heaven  relied  on  the  most  brutal  instruments  of  power 
ever  employed  here  on  earth.  To  do  in  Rome  as  the  Ro- 
mans do,  is  a  good  moral  principle ;  if  the  State  demands 


2/6  THE  MONIST. 

it  one  is  to  sacrifice  to  the  image  of  Caesar;  i.  e.,  only,  if  in 
doing  so  one  acts  for  the  general  good,  without  believing 
that  a  trifle  of  frankincense  might  bar  the  road  to  heaven. 
Hume's  contemporaries  did  not  mistake  his  opinions,  a  fact 
shown  for  one  thing  in  the  statement  of  his  funeral.  It 
was  thought  necessary  that  his  grave  should  be  watched 
by  two  men  for  eight  nights,  to  prevent  it  from  being 
violated  by  the  mob. 

Hume  has  smilingly  told  an  untruth  in  every  chapter 
of  the  work  here  before  us,  he  has  made  the  official  bow 
to  children  and  madmen,  fully  aware  that  this  reverence 
would  make  even  more  intelligent  people  consider  him  a 
deist — an  opinion  which  was  justified.  On  the  other  hand 
he  was  no  doubt  perfectly  sure  that  intelligent  people  later 
on  would  understand  his  true  mind,  conceiving  that  the 
two  works  practically  making  the  strongest  attack  on  any 
religion,  in  regard  to  English  deism,  may  be  understood 
as  the  continual  refrain  of  Marc  Antony's  dreadful  speech 
of  accusation, 

"For  Brutus  is  an  honorable  man." 

English  natural  religion,  rationalism,  or  deism  was 
sufficiently  honest;  so  honest  as  to  make  even  Hume  use 
it  as  a  screen  in  his  dealing  with  children  and  madmen; 
otherwise  he  knew  perfectly  well  that  his  stand  and  that  of 
the  deist  differed  infinitely  more  from  each  other  than  did 
deism  from  positive  religions.  Hume's  protest  against 
the  name  of  atheist  (vide  Burton,  II,  220)  was  due  to  his 
dislike  of  all  that  sort  of  indications.  In  his  opinion  the 
affirmation  of  the  nonexistence  of  God  was  as  dogmatical 
as  the  sure  belief  in  his  being.  We  know  nothing  and 
cannot  possibly  know  anything  concerning  the  world,  its 
origin  or  ruin,  of  the  continuation  or  passing  away  of  its 
values.  Nor  ought  we  to  occupy  ourselves  with  that  sort 
of  ideas  which  only  tend  to  distract  the  work  from  tem- 
poral society,  cause  strife  and  anxiety,  suffer  essential  and 


DAVID  HUME'S  NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  RELIGION.      277 

unessential  questions  to  make  distinctions  where  no  dis- 
tinctions ought  to  be, — this  was  Hume's  conception,  which 
he  maintained  against  the  positive  popular  religions,  nay 
even  against  the  natural  religion  behind  the  honesty  of 
which  he  sought  shelter. 

In  this  connection  I  had  better  premise  an  explanation 
of  a  definite  head  in  Hume's  terminology.  On  almost 
every  page  he  uses  the  word  theism,  which  he  opposes  to 
polytheism,  used  of  any  religion  having  several  gods  or 
demi-gods.  Polytheism  identifies  all  systems  of  idolatry, 
national  religion,  paganism  and  superstition.  It  is  more 
difficult  to  explain  the  meaning  of  "theism,"  used  by  Hume 
in  two  significations.  Generally  it  denotes  monotheism 
(used  in  section  IX),  a  term  however  including  "genuine 
theism/'  Only  in  one  passage  he  uses  the  word  deism 
(vide  section  XII,  where  he  speaks  of  "avoiding  the  im- 
putation of  deism  and  profaneness")  but  this  "genuine 
theism"  is  indeed  the  very  natural  religion  laid  down  by 
the  English  deists,  starting  with  Herbert  of  Cherbury, 
ending  with  Hume,  a  fact  plainly  shown  by  Hume's  own 
definitions  (sections  VI,  and  XIV).  According  to  this 
definition  the  popular  monotheism  and  the  "genuine  the- 
ism" (i.  e.,  deism),  both  included  in  the  appellation  of 
theism,  differ  as  to  their  principles.  The  former  asserts 
a  "particular  providence,"  i.  e.,  the  deity  may  be  induced 
by  prayer  to  encroach  upon  the  natural  causes,  breaking 
his  own  laws.  The  latter  admits  of  "an  original  Provi- 
dence," i.  e.,  the  deity  governs  the  world  according  to 
general,  settled  laws,  the  course  of  which  is  free  and  un- 
disturbed. In  this  connection  I  shall  call  attention  to  the 
Enquiry  Concerning  Human  Understanding  (1748,  section 
XI,  "Of  a  Particular  Providence  and  of  a  Future  State") 
and  further  to  a  letter  to  Mure,  in  which  Hume  decidedly 
maintains  that  "the  prayer  is  very  dangerous,  and  leads 
directly,  and  even  unavoidably,  to  impiety  and  blasphemy" 


278  THE  MONIST. 

(Burton,  I,  162-164).  Considering  Hume's  individual 
view  of  religion  and  the  caution  he  showed  when  he  men- 
tioned it  before  the  public,  it  will  easily  be  understood 
that  it  was  his  very  wish  to  leave  the  term  theism  in 
vagueness.  With  the  word  theism  on  his  lips  he  could 
make  his  official  bow  both  to  the  right  and  left  flanks  of 
Christianity.  To  the  right  even  able  to  attack  it  in  driving 
at  Catholicism,  paying  a  special  reverence  to  the  Church 
of  England.  To  the  left,  bowing  to  the  "sublime  doc- 
trines," which  the  English  deism  considered  the  heart  of 
all  religion,  both  from  a  theoretical  and — chiefly — from 
an  ethical  point  of  view. 

But  there  is  another  fact  causing  the  vagueness  of  the 
term  theism.  Hume  was  practically  unable  to  draw  the 
line  between  theism  and  polytheism.  His  very  superiority 
appears  in  his  perceiving  that  the  distinction  between  one 
god  and  several  gods  has  no  scientific  signification.  In 
the  end  the  notions  converge  into  one  another.  The  theism 
professing  "a  particular  Providence"  is  considered  as  be- 
longing to  the  popular  religions.  After  all  Hume  feels 
convinced  that  all  religion  as  it  really  exists,  is  popular 
religion  or  superstition  (Dialogues,  Part  XII;  cf.  Jodl, 
Leben  und  Philosophic  David  Humes,  p.  194).  The  "gen- 
uine theism"  does  not  really  exist,  unless  in  the  mind  of  a 
few  philosophers  whose  meditations  are  far  from  life's 
reality.  There  only  remains  a  vague  distinction  between 
the  higher  and  lower  strata  within  religion,  and  Hume's 
ingeniousness  manifests  itself  in  his  putting  down  the  law 
for  the  principles  of  religion.  He  is  the  first  to  point  out 
that  the  strata  are  fluctuating.  The  religious  conceptions 
having  obtained  a  certain  height  are  either  entirely  un- 
done or  they  are  dragged  downwards  into  the  great  living 
depths  from  which  they  rose.  The  everlasting  communi- 
cation with  this  depth  is  the  condition  of  their  carrying 
on  their  life.  There  is  no  limit  between  the  higher  and 


DAVID  HUME'S  NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  RELIGION. 

lower  religious  strata,  only  a  continual  movement,  an  ever- 
lasting flux  and  reflux.  According  to  the  interpretation  of 
the  words  theism  and  polytheism  are  to  be  defined  as 
higher  and  lower  strata  within  religion.  Hume's  con- 
centrating all  his  inquiries  into  the  relation  of  these  strata 
is  the  cause  of  his  penetrating  more  than  any  other  into 
the  innermost  problem  of  religious  science.  The  philos- 
ophers of  quite  recent  days  can  hardly  be  said  to  have 
surpassed  him. 

Hobbes  (1588-1679)  laid  down  the  first  stone  of  the 
edifice  of  the  modern  science  of  religion  by  his  indication 
of  the  "unknown  causes,"  which  are  embodied  and  dei- 
fied. The  gods  are  created  by  our  ignorance  of  real  causes 
and  by  our  fear  of  what  is  to  befall  us  in  time  to  come; 
their  supernatural,  incorporeal  or  immaterial  characters 
"are  of  the  same  substance  with  that  which  appeareth  in 
a  dream  to  one  that  sleepeth  or  in  a  looking-glass  to  one 
that  is  awake"  (Leviathan,  1651,  Part  XII).  But  Hume 
is  the  masterbuilder  who  completed  the  edifice  in  its  main 
features.  By  his  fundamental  assertion  that  all  forms  of 
religion  are  to  be  explained  in  a  psychological  and  histor- 
ical way,  he  laid  down  the  basis  which  is  to  be  taken  for 
granted  in  the  examination  of  any  religion,  be  it  called  a 
higher  or  a  lower  one.  His  way  of  putting  the  question 
concerning  the  development  of  religion  indicated  the  course 
of  all  science  of  religion. 

I  dare  say  that  Hume's  little  treatise  is  so  far  beyond 
all  that  has  been  written  down  to  quite  recent  days  that 
its  ideas  have  entirely  surpassed  peoples'  understanding. 
Generations  to  come  will  be  astonished  to  see  how  all 
threads  meet  in  Hume's  stating  of  the  problems.  Having 
done  with  the  psychology  of  individuals  and  of  races,  walk- 
ing along  vast  and  troublesome  roads  passing  through  the 
history  of  all  religions,  we  shall  arrive  at  the  views,  seen 
for  the  first  time  in  their  abstract,  principal  form  by 


28O  THE  MONIST. 

Hume's  bright  eye.  Then  we  shall  certainly  feel  regret 
in  realizing  that  at  an  earlier  date  we  might  have  advanced 
even  beyond  our  present  position,  if  we  had  founded  our 
exertions  on  Hume's  working  hypothesis  and  method  of 
work  instead  of  wasting  an  enormous  amount  of  scientific 
energy  in  working  with  vain  views  and  theories,  descended 
from  English  deism  to  German  romanticism,  first  faced 
by  Feuerbach  (1804-72),  afterwards  by  the  modern  Eng- 
lish school  in  the  science  of  religion. 

As  already  pointed  out,  the  distinction  between  the 
higher  and  lower  forms  within  religion  is  the  fundamental 
view  of  the  whole  treatise.  As  this  view  furnishes  the  clue 
to  the  whole  disposition,  a  little  difficult  to  catch  without 
a  careful  study,  a  short  representation  of  the  content — 
starting  from  this  fundamental  view — may  be  useful  to  the 
understanding. 

The  work  is  made  up  of  two  main  divisions,  the  former 
is  a  historical  investigation  of  the  higher  and  lower  strata 
within  religion  and  their  mutual  relation  (Section  I-VIII), 
the  latter  is  an  estimation  of  this  relation.  Hume's  his- 
torical way  of  putting  the  question  turns  this  estimation 
into  a  comparison  between  paganism  and  Christianity 
(Sections  IX-XV). 

The  different  chapters  are  connected  in  the  following 
way:  The  work  is  opened  by  a  short  psychological  intro- 
duction. In  the  first  chapter  Hume  maintains  that  the 
lower  religious  strata  have  been  the  original  ones.  It  is 
easily  understood  that  the  adherents  of  "natural  religion" 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  universal  dogmas  expressed 
in  this  religion  were  the  principal  ones  also  from  a  his- 
torical point  of  view.  This  idea  was  already  entertained 
by  Herbert  of  Cherbury,  but  it  was  more  emphasized  by 
his  successors  Browne  (1605-81)  and  Blount  (1654-93). 
"Natural"  religion  became  the  primitive  religion  of  man- 
kind, but  experience  having  shown  how  far  the  positive 


DAVID  HUME'S  NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  RELIGION.      28l 

religions  have  diverged  from  their  origin,  the  thought  of 
a  historical  misrepresentation  was  obvious.  The  cause  of 
this  misrepresentation  had  to  be  looked  for  among  the 
people  profiting  by  everything  in  religion  which  was  con- 
sidered an  unnecessary  and  obnoxious  appendix  to  the 
pure  natural  religion,  i.  e.,  among  the  priests.  The  fact 
of  this  being  so  is  the  origin  of  two  notorious  historical 
theories :  primitive  monotheism  and  the  explanation  of  re- 
ligion given  by  priestcraft.  In  the  history  of  philosophy 
the  latter  theory  originated  with  Kritias,  the  tyrant  and 
sophist.  In  his  opinion  the  first  lawgivers  created  the  gods 
from  reasons  of  subtlety.  By  a  concise,  careful  argumenta- 
tion Hume  demonstrates  the  absurdity  of  the  belief  in 
primitive  theism. 

The  second  and  third  sections  examine  the  origin  of 
the  lower  forms.  Having  made  a  bow  to  theism  so  inge- 
nious that  it  really  becomes  a  bow  to  polytheism,  Hume  pro- 
ceeds to  show  how  primitive  man's  incoherent  range  of 
ideas  must  create  a  variegated  confusion  of  gods,  acting  in 
an  arbitrary  way.  Furthermore  he  shows  that  primitive 
man's  creation  of  these  beings  is  not  due  to  intellectual 
motives,  i.  e.,  curiosity  concerning  the  origin  of  the  world; 
it  is  only  caused  by  the  practical  desire  to  procure  the 
daily  necessaries  of  life.  But  primitive  man  does  not  know 
the  causes  of  happiness  and  unhappiness,  "the  unknown 
causes,"  which  already  Hobbes  considered  the  obscure  gaps 
in  our  knowing,  where  the  gods  could  live,  but  from  where 
they  were  displaced  by  the  physical  understanding.  We 
conceive  those  "unknown  causes"  like  ourselves  (Proso- 
popoeia}. The  bringing  forward  of  this  analogy  is  the 
germ  of  the  later  English  theory  of  animism  and  marks 
the  continuation  of  Xenophanes's  ingenious  fragment, 
which  is  the  origin  of  the  European  science  of  religion: 
"The  mortals  say  that  the  gods  were  born  like  themselves, 
had  apparel,  voice  and  form  in  conformity  with  them. 


282  THE  MONIST. 

But  if  the  oxen,  horses,  and  lions  had  hands  and  like  men 
were  able  to  form  pictures,  the  horses  would  form  the  gods 
like  horses,  the  oxen  like  oxen,  all  species  of  animals  would 
form  their  gods  exactly  in  their  own  likeness.  The  Ethiops 
imagine  their  gods  black  and  flat-nosed,  the  Thracians  con- 
ceive their  gods  with  blue  eyes  and  red  hair."  (Diels, 
Fragment e  der  Vorsokratiker,  p.  54).  Hume  affirms  his 
theory  by  pointing  out  that  the  increase  of  superstition 
is  proportionate  to  the  difficulty  in  indicating  its  real  causes, 
a  circumstance  explaining  the  fact  that  people  are  oftener 
led  into  religious  notions  by  fear  than  by  hope. 

Section  IV  is  an  interpolation;  it  shows  that  the  dei- 
ties were  not  originally  considered  the  creators  of  the 
world  and  thus  defines  the  contrast  between  the  higher 
and  lower  strata.  Section  V  again  takes  up  the  thread, 
giving  the  further  development  of  the  lower  strata.  As 
early  as  section  III  Hume  began  to  discuss  the  notion  of 
local  and  special  deities.  In  this  chapter  he  points  out 
that  the  distribution  of  distinct  provinces  to  the  several 
deities  must  grant  them  some  attributes,  thereby  giving 
rise  to  allegory ;  he  draws  attention  to  apotheosis,  the  fact 
that  mankind  is  able  to  elevate  superior  men  into  gods, 
further  showing  that  the  public  devotion  may  be  further 
increased  by  art's  representation  of  divinities.  At  last  he 
gives  a  resume  of  the  five  first  chapters. 

The  three  following  sections  treat  the  relation  between 
the  higher  and  lower  strata.  Section  VI  makes  it  evi- 
dent that  the  higher  strata  originate  from  the  lower  ones. 
Hume  mentions  the  agents  connecting  polytheism  and  the- 
ism. Those  agents  are  ( i )  the  worship  afterwards  called 
monolatry;  (2)  the  conception  of  a  "patron-deity";  (3) 
the  existence  of  a  social  order  among  the  gods,  i.  e.,  a 
further  development  leading  the  original  analogy  from  the 
individual  domain  into  the  social  one;  (4)  adulation 
towards  the  god  whose  assistance  is  invoked.  Section  VII 


DAVID  HUME'S  NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  RELIGION.      283 

confirms  the  doctrine  that  theism  is  hardly  ever  found  in 
a  pure  state  among  the  popular  religions.  Hume  asserts 
that  even  if  religion  tells  you  that  the  Deity  is  in  possession 
of  all  sublime  qualities,  the  assent  of  the  vulgar  is  merely 
verbal:  the  old  religious  strata  still  exist  as  the  essential 
part  of  religion.  After  all  the  "higher"  notions  are  but 
empty  words,  epithets  which  people  dare  not  refuse  verbal 
assent,  but  whose  life  only  consists  in  words.  Hume 
plainly  advances  the  idea  quite  recently  expressed  by  I.  G. 
Frazer  in  the  following  words: 

"Brahmanism,  Buddhism,  Islam  may  come  and  go, 
but  the  belief  in  magic  and  demons  remains  unshaken 
through  them  all,  and,  if  we  may  judge  of  the  future  from 
the  past,  is  likely  to  survive  the  rise  and  fall  of  other  his- 
torical religions.  For  the  great  faiths  of  the  world,  just 
in  so  far  as  they  are  the  outcome  of  superior  intelligence, 
of  purer  morality,  of  extraordinary  fervor  of  aspiration 
after  the  ideal,  fail  to  touch  and  move  the  common  man. 
They  make  claims  upon  his  intellect  and  his  heart  to  which 
neither  the  one  nor  the  other  is  capable  of  responding. 
The  philosophy  they  teach  is  too  abstract,  the  morality 
they  inculcate  too  exalted  for  him.  The  keener  minds  em- 
brace the  new  philosophy,  the  more  generous  spirits  are 
fired  by  the  new  morality ;  and  as  the  world  is  led  by  such 
men,  their  faith  sooner  or  later  becomes  the  professed 
faith  of  the  multitude.  Yet  with  the  common  herd,  who 
compose  the  great  bulk  of  every  people,  the  new  religion 
is  accepted  only  in  outward  show,  because  it  is  impressed 
upon  them  by  their  natural  leaders  whom  they  cannot 
choose  but  follow.  They  yield  a  dull  assent  to  it  with 
their  lips,  but  in  their  heart  they  never  really  abandon 
their  old  superstitions ;  in  these  they  cherish  a  faith  such  as 
they  cannot  repose  in  the  creed  which  they  nominally  pro- 
fess; and  to  these,  in  the  trials  and  emergencies  of  life, 
thev  have  recourse  as  to  infallible  remedies,  when  the 


284  THE  MONIST. 

promises  of  the  higher  faith  have  failed  them,  as  indeed 
such  promises  are  apt  to  do/'  (The  Golden  Bough,  2d 
edition,  III,  p.  49.) 

Hume  shapes  his  thought  ingeniously  in  section  VIII, 
dealing  with  the  flux  and  reflux  of  the  higher  and  lower 
religious  strata.  The  fluctuation  takes  place  according 
to  the  law  which  I  have  called  "lex  Hume!'  (Archiv  fur 
Religionswissenschaft,  IX,  415.)  According  to  this  law 
there  is  within  religion  a  tendency  to  elevate  the  deity 
as  much  as  possible,  but  this  abstraction  disengages  the 
comprehension  from  its  native  soil.  Common  people  stick 
to  their  concrete  religious  ideas,  a  fact  causing  the  move- 
ment of  a  lower  stratum  towards  the  surface,  when  the 
pressure  has  ceased  which  the  deity — now  abstract — exer- 
cised when  a  concrete  notion.  Hume  calls  this  new  emerg- 
ing stratum  "middle  beings,"  and  he  is  fully  justified  in 
asserting  that  this  fluctuation  in  the  religious  strata  takes 
place  always  and  everywhere,  not  like  a  sudden  eruption, 
but  representing  the  very  life  and  working  of  religion. 
Hume's  thought  is  expressed  in  brief,  distinct  words ;  when 
entirely  worked  out  it  will  certainly  illustrate  religion's 
obscurest,  innermost  nature  more  than  any  other  point  of 
view.  After  all  the  thought  is  an  ingenious  application  of 
"the  theory  of  abstract  notions,"  put  forward  by  Berkeley 
(1685-1753)  in  his  Principles  of  Human  Knowledge 
(1710),  a  theory  which  in  the  religious  science  has  an  ex- 
tensive scope — in  downright  contradistinction  to  the  ab- 
stractions of  natural  religion  and  all  the  bloodless  children 
thus  engendered  in  the  history  of  philosophy.  It  may  be 
that  Hume  had  some  foreboding  of  this  scope,  but  he  has 
hardly  perceived  it  clearly,  otherwise  he  would  probably 
have  scrutinized  the  law  from  an  individual  and  social 
point  of  view,  examining  the  very  seats  of  the  fluctuation. 
Thus  he  would  have  been  called  back  to  what  he  previously 
indicated :  that  religion  itself  is  fixed  and  unchangeable,  the 


DAVID  HUME'S  NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  RELIGION.      285 

flux  and  reflux  being  due  to  interaction  between  the  real 
religious  strata  and  the  other,  higher  ones,  i.  e.,  positive 
knowledge  and  worldly  ethics.  The  former  strata  were 
insensible,  though  always  moved  by  the  agents  arising  from 
them,  i.  e.,  both  theological  and  ethical  systems. 

The  last  chapters  give  an  ethical  estimation  of  the  re- 
lation between  the  higher  and  lower  strata.  The  vague 
notions  of  polytheism  and  theism  are  now  historically  de- 
nned, the  lower  strata  being  identified  with  all  pagan  re- 
ligions, while  the  higher  strata  are  nearly  assimilated  with 
the  Jewish-Christian  religions,  partly  with  Islam.  Hume 
concluded  his  historical  account  by  indicating  that  the 
lower  forms  survive  unaltered  beneath  the  higher  ones, 
since  higher  religious  formations  are  properly  speaking 
only  abstractions  and  empty  words.  Here  he  shows  that 
the  lower  strata  really  are  the  better  ones,  because  the 
so-called  higher  ones  in  fact  are  nothing  but  the  lower 
ones.  Their  superiority  is  but  empty  words,  they  have 
the  same  deficiencies  as  the  so-called  lower  strata  besides 
the  additional  one  of  pretending  something  more.  In  short : 
Hume  wants  to  settle  between  paganism  and  Christianity. 
In  section  IX  he  emphasizes  the  toleration  of  idolatry  as 
opposed  to  Christianity's  persecutions  and  multitude  of 
human  sacrifices.  Incidentally  he  states  his  theory  of  sac- 
rifices. In  section  X  he  lays  stress  on  the  social  virtues  of 
paganism  as  distinct  from  Christianity's  contempt  of  world 
and  mankind.  His  words  quite  correspond  to  those  of 
Schiller  in  Die  Goiter  Griechenlands, 

"Da  die  Cotter  menschlicher  noch  waren, 
Waren  Menschen  gottlicher." 

In  section  XI  Hume  shows  that  paganism  is  more  sen- 
sible than  Christianity,  on  account  of  its  fundamental  view 
of  the  gods  and  the  fact  that  it  consists  in  cults  more  than 
in  theory,  which  made  it  less  pretentious  than  the  Chris- 
tian theology.  He  maintains  that  in  controversies  between 


286  THE  MONIST. 

Christian  sects  the  reproach  of  heresy  has  always  been 
stuck  to  the  more  sensible  part.  The  ideas  of  section  XII 
are  somewhat  difficult  to  catch.  With  a  very  polite  bow  to 
the  Church  of  England,  Hume  derides  the  Christian  (  Cath- 
olic) rites — for  instance  the  Lord's  Supper — which  in  his 
opinion  are  as  absurd  as  the  ideas  of  paganism.  He  ex- 
amines the  relation  between  peoples'  creed  and  their  own 
conjecture  about  this  creed,  observing  that  human  con- 
science includes  the  greatest  contrasts:  a  concise,  scien- 
tific range  of  ideas  alongside  of  the  most  superstitious 
notions, — a  profound  psychological  remark,  which  as  to 
the  individual  consciousness  forms  the  supplement  to 
Hume's  assignment  of  the  lower  strata  which  survive  un- 
altered in  the  people.  In  agreement  with  the  words  of 
Lucretius  Carus, 

"Primus  in  orbe  deos  fecit  timor," 

and  with  Hobbes's  psychology  of  religion  in  Leviathan, 
Hume  had  emphasized  fear  as  the  strongest  religious  im- 
pulse. The  gods  are  created  by  fear,  and  fear  secondarily 
begets  praise,  elevating  the  gods.  But  in  Hume's  opin- 
ion this  idealization  —  if  it  was  not  idola  fori  —  accord- 
ing to  its  origin  only  indicated  an  enlargement  of  the  power 
of  deity.  The  gods  had  to  remain  on  an  ethical  level  with 
the  men  who  created  them  in  their  own  image.  As  set 
forth  in  section  XII  the  consequence  is  that  the  fear  of  the 
god  magnifies  in  proportion  as  he  increases  in  power.  This 
enlargement  of  the  deity's  power  is  contingent  upon  no 
other  deities  being  acknowledged  beside  him.  In  each  re- 
ligion there  are  two  poles  represented  on  one  hand  by  the 
kind,  beneficent  gods,  on  the  other  by  the  noxious,  wicked 
ones.  "The  higher  the  deity  is  exalted  in  power  the  lower 
is  he  depressed  from  an  ethical  point  of  view."  In  the 
so-called  higher  religions  the  tension  becomes  strongest 
in  the  negative  pole :  a  fact  illustrated  by  means  of  Judaism 
and  Christianity.  Hume  cautiously  screens  himself  by 


DAVID  RUMENS  NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  RELIGION.      287 

Andrew  Michael  Ramsay  (1686-1743)  the  friend  of  Fene- 
lon  and  author  of  Philosophical  Principles  of  Natural  and 
Revealed  Religion,  Explained  and  Unfolded  in  a  Geomet- 
rical Order  (1749).  In  section  XIV  Hume  repeats  that 
the  ethical  idealization  of  the  deities  is  only  a  verbal  defi- 
nition. Religion  will  always  contradict  morality  from  the 
mere  cause  of  its  emphasizing  other  things  than  an  honest 
life.  Were  we  to  suppose  a  purely  moral  religion,  the  only 
cult  of  which  consisted  in  sermons  of  a  virtuous  conduct 
of  life,  the  very  attendance  on  these  sermons  would  soon 
be  turned  into  religion.  Any  religion  is  compatible  with 
the  greatest  baseness,  nay  it  rather  produces  it,  for  the 
fervor  of  religious  passion  arises  from  a  range  of  ideas 
entirely  different  from  man's  sense  of  truth  and  goodness. 
In  the  last  chapter  Hume  sums  up  the  last  six  chapters, 
setting  forth  the  contrast  between  the  doctrine  of  the 
higher  religious  tenets  and  the  life  of  their  adherents.  He 
concludes  by  maintaining  that  religions  do  not  give  any 
real  answer  in  reply  to  the  question  of  life  and  death,  but 
that  the  history  of  religion  in  showing  the  mutual  struggle 
of  the  different  religious  systems  may  also  be  of  practical 
importance  in  enjoining  us  to  be  cautious  in  our  relation  to 
those  questions.  I  believe  Hume  was  right  in  this  par- 
ticular. What  the  more  abstract  criticism  of  deism  failed 
to  reach  as  to  religion  may  surely  be  reached  more  easily 
by  the  path  of  historical  investigation.  But  whether  an 
adherent  of  Hume's  conception  of  life  or  not,  one  is  almost 
bound  to  grant  that  the  contest  between  religious  and  non- 
religious  conceptions  approaches  more  and  more  the  mere 
historical  domain,  a  fact  proved  by  the  time  succeeding 
Hume's — in  spite  of  the  recent  American  religious  psycho- 
logical humbug,  in  spite  of  all  its  desperate  endeavors  to 
make  science  founded  on  "mind-cure"  and  statistics  of  con- 
version. Be  the  expectations  and  the  result  as  they  may, 
only  historical  meditations  and  arguments  give  value  to 


288  THE  MONIST. 

attack  and  defence.  But  whatever  stand  we  will  take  in 
the  strife  or  what  special  domain  within  the  science  of 
religion  we  wish  to  peacefully  explore,  we  ought  always 
to  return  to  the  classical  work  of  religious  science  and  bow 
our  heads  in  reverence  to  the  great  founder  of  this  science. 

ANTON  THOMSEN. 
UNIVERSITY  OF  COPENHAGEN. 


A  MODERN  ZENO. 

ZENO  of  Elea  is  famous  mostly  for  his  so-called  "argu- 
ment" to  the  effect  that  in  a  race  between  Achilles 
and  a  tortoise  with  the  latter  starting  in  advance  a  certain 
distance,  Achilles  can  never  overtake  the  tortoise  although 
he  may  run  many  times  as  fast  as  his  slow  competitor. 
For,  says  Zeno,  when  Achilles  reaches  the  spot  where  the 
tortoise  started  the  other  will  have  advanced  to  another 
point,  and  when  Achilles  has  reached  this  second  point 
the  tortoise  will  have  gone  on  to'a  third  point  and  just  so 
on  and  on  the  race  will  continue  ad  infinitum,  the  tortoise 
being  always  a  little  ahead.  It  is  curious  to  see  how  this 
little  non  sequitur  has  perplexed  people,  many  of  them 
of  excellent  intellectual  standing.  Thus  the  famous  logi- 
cian Sir  William  Hamilton  said  the  "argument"  was  un- 
answerable. 

It  is  altogether  beside  my  present  theme  to  state  where- 
in the  catch  lies,  so  I  will  merely  say  that  the  conclusion 
is  no  consequence  at  all  from  the  premises.  The  "argu- 
ment" stripped  of  its  disguises  is  just  this.  Achilles  can 
never  overtake  the  tortoise  because  he  cannot  overtake  it 
in  any  less  time  than  it  takes  to  do  so. 

Among  men  there  is  no  habit  more  inveterate  than  the 
persuasion  of  each  individual  that  he  personally  is  immune 
from  slips  in  reasoning.  All  around  him  during  almost 
every  day  of  his  life  he  takes  notice  how  badly  other  people 
reason  without  ever  saying  to  himself  that  probably  he  is 


2QO  THE  MONIST. 

like  other  people  in  the  same  regard.  So  in  view  of  the 
incontestable  fact  that  men,  yea,  even  men  most  eminent 
in  intellectual  power  and  cultivation,  do  sometimes  err  in 
reasoning,  I  make  bold  to  confess  a  growing  measure  of 
misgiving  as  to  certain  geometrical  results  that  have  played 
and  are  still  playing  a  conspicuous  role  in  the  mathematics 
of  the  present  epoch.  I  refer  to  the  so-called  non-Euclidean 
geometry,  and  I  propose  to  utter  a  little  note  of  protest  or 
rather  of  question.  That  is  to  say,  some  considerable  study 
of  the  famous  brochure  of  Lobatchevsky  on  parallels  leaves 
my  mind  in  such  a  state  that  I  desire  greatly  some  further 
instruction. 

It  is  generally  recognized  that  the  problems  of  paral- 
lelism and  of  the  angle-sum  of  the  triangle  are  only  two 
different  aspects  of  a  single  problem.  The  solution  of  either 
involves  the  solution  of  the  other.  Lobatchevsky  ap- 
proaches the  problem  from  a  definition  of  parallelism.  He 
adopts  most  of  the  fundamental  definitions  and  conceptions 
of  ordinary  geometry  and  quite  a  number  of  the  initial 
theorems.  He  defines  the  straight  line  in  an  original  way 
saying:  "A  straight  line  fits  upon  itself  in  all  its  positions. 
By  this  I  mean  that  during  the  revolution  of  the  surface 
containing  it  the  straight  line  does  not  change  its  place 
if  it  goes  through  two  unmoving  points  in  the  surface 
(i.  e.,  if  we  turn  the  surface  containing  it  about  two  points 
of  the  line,  the  line  does  not  move)." 

Now  it  is  one  thing  to  give  us  an  idea  of  an  object  and 
quite  another  to  so  define  it  that  its  essential  quality  or 
qualities  shall  be  definitely  stated.  Lobatchevsky's  defini- 
tion is  no  special  improvement  upon  the  other  current  defi- 
nitions. It  is  a  suggestion  rather  than  a  definition.  Of 
late  the  statement  that  a  straight  line  is  determined  by  two 
of  its  points  has  gained  favor  as  a  definition,  and  it  is  true 
that  a  single  particular  straight  line  is  by  two  points  of  it 
determined  to  be  that  several  and  singular  straight  line 


A    MODERN    ZENO. 


29I 


after  it  is  known  to  be  straight.  But  two  points  do  not 
determine  the  straight  line  in  general,  that  is  to  say,  no 
two  points  of  it  being  given  will  avail  in  the  least  as  a  test 
whereby  to  determine  whether  or  not  a  line  in  question 
as  to  its  straightness  is  really  straight. 

What  is  needed  in  a  definition  of  the  straight  line  is  a 
statement  or  conspiracy  of  statements  that  shall  express 
and  exhibit  to  the  intelligence  the  matters  of  fact  in  virtue 
of  which  it  has  that  quality  we  call  straightness.  If  this 
can  be  done  in  any  other  way  than  by  defining  a  rule  ac- 
cording to  which  the  points  that  stud  it  are  distributed  so 
as  to  make  it  straight,  then  I  am  at  a  loss  to  conceive  what 
that  way  can  be.  Moreover  the  straight  line  ought  to  be 
defined  so  as  to  be  put  right  out  in  space  in  perfect  self- 
sufficiency.  I  shall  later  on  submit  a  definition  that  seems 
to  me  to  fulfil  the  requisites  I  have  mentioned,  but  for  the 
present  I  must  keep  to  the  ways  and  results  of  Lobat- 
chevsky. 

Lobatchevsky  begins  his  original  matter  with  his  The- 
orem 1 6  as  follows: 

"All  straight  lines  which  in  a  plane  go  out  from  a  point  can, 
with  reference  to  a  given  straight  line  in  the  same  plane,  be  divided 
into  two  classes — into  cutting  and  not-cut- 
ting. 

"The  boundary  lines  of  the  one  and  the 
other  class  of  those  lines  will  be  called  parallel 
to  the  given  line. 

"From  the  point  A  (Fig.  i)  let  fall  upon      , 
the  line  BC  the  perpendicular  AD,  to  which 
again  draw  the  perpendicular  AE. 

"In  the  right  angle  EAD  either  will  all 
straight  lines  which  go  out  from  the  point 
A  meet  the  line  DC,  as  for  example  AF,  or 
some  of  them,  like  the  perpendicular  AE, 
will  not  meet  the  line  DC.  In  the  uncertainty 
whether  the  perpendicular  AE  is  the  only  line  which  does  not  meet 
DC.,  we  will  assume  it  may  be  possible  that  there  are  still  other  lines, 


THE  MONIST. 

for  example  AG,  which  do  not  cut  DC,  how  far  soever  they  may 
be  prolonged.  In  passing  over  from  the  cutting  lines,  as  AF,  to  the 
not-cutting  lines,  as  AG,  we  must  come  upon  a  line  AH,  parallel  to 
DC,  a  boundary  line,  upon  one  side  of  which  all  lines  AG  are  such 
as  do  not  meet  the  line  DC,  while  upon  the  other  side  every  straight 
line  AF  cuts  the  line  DC. 

"The  angle  HAD  between  the  parallel  HA  and  the  perpendic- 
ular AD  is  called  the  parallel  angle  (angle  of  parallelism),  which 
we  will  here  designate  by  n(/>)  for  AD  — />. 

"If  n(/>)  is  a  right  angle,  so  will  the  prolongation  AE'  of  the 
perpendicular  AE  likewise  be  parallel  to  the  prolongation  DB  of 
the  line  DC,  in  addition  to  which  we  remark  that  in  regard  to  the 
four  right  angles,  which  are  made  at  the  point  A  by  the  perpen- 
diculars AE  and  AD,  and  their  prolongations  AE'  and  AD',  every 
straight  line  which  goes  out  from  the  point  A,  either  itself  or  at  least 
its  prolongation,  lies  in  one  of  the  two  right  angles  which  are  turned 
toward  BC,  so  that  except  the  parallel  EE'  all  others,  if  they  are 
sufficiently  produced  both  ways,  must  intersect  the  line  BC. 

"If  !!(/>)<  J?r,  then  upon  the  other  side  of  AD,  making  the 
same  angle  DAK  =  !!(/>)  will  lie  also  a  line  AK,  parallel  to  the 
prolongation  DB  of  the  line  DC,  so  that  under  this  assumption  we 
must  also  make  a  distinction  of  sides  in  parallelism. 

"All  remaining  lines  or  their  prolongations  within  the  two  right 
angles  turned  toward  BC  pertain  to  those  that  intersect,  if  they  lie 
within  the  angle  HAK  =  2lI(/>)  between  the  parallels;  they  pertain 
on  the  other  hand  to  the  non-intersecting  AG,  if  they  lie  upon  the 
other  sides  of  the  parallels  AH  and  AK,  in  the  opening  of  the  two 
angles  EAH  =  ±Tr  —  H.(p),  E'AK  =  ibr  —  n(/>),  between  the  par- 
allels and  EE'  the  perpendicular  to  AD.  Upon  the  other  side  of  the 
perpendicular  EE'  will  in  like  manner  the  prolongations  AH'  and 
AK'  of  the  parallels  AH  and  AK  likewise  be  parallel  to  BC ;  the 
remaining  lines  pertain,  if  in  the  angle  K'AH',  to  the  intersecting, 
but  if  in  the  angles  K'AE,  H'AE'  to  the  non-intersecting. 

"In  accordance  with  this,  for  the  assumption  n(/>)=|7r  the 
lines  can  be  only  intersecting  or  parallel ;  but  if  we  assume  that 
!!(/>)<  JTT,  then  we  must  allow  two  parallels,  one  on  the  one  and 
one  on  the  other  side ;  in  addition  we  must  distinguish  the  remaining 
lines  into  non-intersecting  and  intersecting. 

"For  both  assumptions  it  serves  as  the  mark  of  parallelism  that 
the  line  becomes  intersecting  for  the  smallest  deviation  toward  the 


A   MODERN   ZENO. 

side  where  lies  the  parallel,  so  that  if  AH  is  parallel  to  DC,  every  line 
AF  cuts  DC,  how  small  soever  the  angle  HAF  may  be." 

This  long  quotation  is  unavoidable  unless  one  would 
risk  a  charge  of  misrepresentation  or  garbling.  It  states 
the  full  substance  of  the  author's  peculiar  initial  premises, 
those  that  distinguish  his  geometry  from  the  geometry  of 
Euclid  and  his  disciples.  With  these  premises  and  with 
about  a  dozen  theorems  adopted  from  the  ordinary  Euclid- 
ean geometry  he  develops  a  sequence  of  theorems  as  fol- 
lows: 

"17.  A  straight  line  maintains  the  characteristic  of  parallelism 
at  all  its  points." 

"18.    Two  lines  are  always  mutually  parallel." 

"19.  In  a  rectilineal  triangle  the  sum  of  the  three  angles  can 
not  be  greater  than  two  right  angles." 

"20.  If  in  any  rectilineal  triangle  the  sum  of  the  three  angles 
is  equal  to  two  right  angles,  so  is  this  also  the  case  for  every  other 
triangle." 

"21.  From  a  given  point  we  can  always  draw  a  straight  line  that 
shall  make  with  a  given  straight  line  an  angle  as  small  as  we  choose." 

"22.  If  two  perpendiculars  to  the  same  straight  line  are  parallel 
to  each  other,  then  the  sum  of  the  three  angles  in  a  rectilineal  triangle 
is  equal  to  two  right  angles." 

In  the  course  of  this  Theorem  22  he  goes  on  to  remark : 

"It  follows  that  in  all  rectilineal  triangles  the  sum  of  the  three 
angles  is  either  TT  and  at  the  same  time  also  the  parallel  TL(p)=\ir 
for  every  line  />,  or  for  all  triangles  this  sum  is  <  TT  and  at  the  same 
time  also  n(/>)<  \TT. 

"The  first  assumption  serves  as  foundation  for  the  ordinary 
geometry  and  plane  trigonometry. 

"The  second  assumption  can  likewise  be  admitted  without  lead- 
ing to  any  contradiction  in  the  results,  and  founds  a  new  geometric 
science, ....  which  I  intend  here  to  expound  as  far  as  the  develop- 
ment of  the  equations  between  the  sides  and  angles  of  the  rectilineal 
and  spherical  triangle." 

Then  follow  Theorems  23,  24  and  25 : 


294  THE  MONIST. 

"23.    For  every  given  angle  a  we  can  find  a  line  p  such  that 


"24.  The  farther  parallel  lines  are  prolonged  on  the  side  of  their 
parallelism,  the  more  they  approach  one  another." 

"25.  Two  straight  lines  which  are  parallel  to  a  third  are  also 
parallel  to  one  another." 

With  the  completion  of  Theorem  25  the  basis  of  the 
system  of  Lobatchevsky  is  fully  laid.  Theorem  23  is  very 
inconspicuous  in  its  enunciation  but  it  contains  matters 
of  high  significance  as  we  shall  see  later  on. 

Now  it  is  true  that  the  assumption  that  the  angle-sum 
of  any  triangle  is  less  than  two  right  angles  leads  to  no 
contradictory  results.  If  it  is  true  for  all  triangles,  it,  of 
course,  must  be  true  for  the  isosceles  right-angled  triangle. 

The  existence  of  right  angles  and  of  right-angled  tri- 
angles is  pervadingly  taken  for  granted  by  Lobatchevsky. 

Now  a  right-angled  isosceles  triangle  may  be  dissected 
into  two  other  half  size  right-angled  isosceles  triangles 
by  a  line  drawn  from  the  mid-point  of  the  hypotenuse  to 
the  vertex  of  the  right  angle,  and  then  the  two  secondary 
triangles  may  in  precisely  like  manner  be  each  dissected  into 
two  tertiary  right-angled  isosceles  triangles.  The  proof 
that  the  two  secondary  triangles  are  exactly  equal  to  one 
another,  that  they  are  right-angled  and  isosceles,  and  that 
the  four  tertiary  triangles  are  in  all  respects  precisely  in 
the  same  case  is  so  simple  in  more  than  one  way,  that  it 
would  be  almost  an  imputation  upon  the  reader  to  spread  it 
before  him.  But  the  right  angle  of  the  original  triangle 
is  a  right  angle,  neither  more  nor  less  so  that  any  deficiency 
of  the  angle-sum  from  two  right  angles  must  reside,  if 
anywhere,  in  the  two  acute  angles,  and  these  being  equal 
to  one  another,  each  must  bear  half  of  that  deficiency.  But 
any  one  of  said  acute  angles  of  the  original  triangle  is 
exactly  equal  to  that  acute  angle  of  the  same  secondary 
triangle  in  which  it  belongs,  that  has  its  vertex  at  the  ver- 


A   MODERN    ZENO.  2Q5 

tex  of  the  right  angle  of  the  original  triangle,  and  this 
angle  is  precisely  half  the  said  last-mentioned  (right) 
angle. 

True,  we  may  conceive  that  the  bisection  of  an  angle 
in  some  way  operates  to  bend  sharply  the  plane  of  the 
figure  along  the  line  of  the  bisecting  line  so  that  the  lines 
that  bound  the  right  angle  shall  approach  each  other,  but 
then  the  angle  would  no  longer  be  a  right  angle,  and 
the  plane  of  the  original  triangle  would  be  that  rather 
curious  form,  a  bent  plane. 

This  leads  me  to  remark  somewhat  out  of  order  that 
Euclid's  axioms  2  to  5  inclusive  are  not  true  in  general. 
They  may  be  false  as  applied  to  the  addition  and  subtrac- 
tion of  angles  unless  the  angles  lie  in  the  same  plane. 

But  bending  along  section  lines  is  not  at  all  the  kind 
of  alteration  that  Lobatchevsky  and  his  disciples  admit. 
They  will  not  for  a  moment  concede  that  their  straight 
lines  are  only  approximately  straight,  and  though  through 
all  of  their  illustrations  they  borrow  the  use  of  curved 
lines  and  of  surfaces  that  have  no  straight  lines,  they  yet 
insist  that  the  lines  they  refer  to  as  straight  are  in  all  sin- 
cerity completely  and  rigorously  straight.  Since  we  have 
no  applicable  criterion  of  straightness  we  can  see  how 
hard  it  is  to  invent  any  crucial  test. 

This  claim  that  the  assumptions  of  Lobatchevsky  lead 
to  no  contradictory  results  has  been  so  conspicuously  pro- 
claimed and  moreover  it  is  so  plainly  the  very  core  of  all 
the  import  of  the  new  geometry  that  it  sets  a  person  of  a 
skeptical  turn  of  mind  to  wondering  when  and  where  and 
how  any  adequate  tests  of  his  assumptions  have  been  made. 
Not  certainly  in  Lobatchevsky's  little  brochure.  That  con- 
tains in  all  only  thirty-six  separate  theorems  and  of  these 
all  but  twelve  are  in  perfect  harmony  with  Euclidean  as- 
sumptions. Even  of  these  twelve  three  are  nothing  but 
rather  elaborate  definitions  leaving  only  nine  theorems  on 


296  THE  MONIST. 

which  to  rest  the  claim  of  no  contradictory  results.  And 
even  as  to  these  nine  we  shall,  I  think,  later  on  see  some- 
thing pertinent  to  the  weight  of  their  argument.  It  is  a 
little  curious  too  to  observe  that  of  the  non-Euclideans  only 
Lobatchevsky  and  Bolyai  deal  with  the  matters  in  question 
by  synthetical  methods;  all  the  rest  are  analysts. 

But  let  us  now  look  a  little  at  the  "angle  of  parallelism" 
with  its  other  face,  the  deficiency  of  the  angle-sum  from 
two  right  angles,  and  see  what  it  is  and  to  what  it  leads. 
It  must  never  be  forgotten  that  the  angle  of  parallelism 
is  not  proposed  as  a  constant  angle  but  is  said  to  depend 
for  its  extent  upon  the  extent  of  the  line  which  makes  with 
the  parallel  the  angle  of  parallelism.  It  is  not  n  simply 
and  constantly  but  u  (/>),  the  (p)  standing  to  mark  the 
dependence  of  the  angle  upon  the  extent  of  the  line  men- 
tioned. 

Had  Lobatchevsky  used  the  phraseology  of  the  differ- 
ential calculus  he  would  have  said  that  the  angle  of  paral- 
lelism is  a  function  of  the  line  which  makes  with  the  par- 
allel the  said  angle  of  parallelism,  the  said  line  standing 
as  the  independent  variable.  For  every  length  of  the  line 
(p)  there  is  supposed  to  be  a  different  angle  of  parallelism, 
and  since  these  lengths  are  infinite  in  number  we  of  neces- 
sity have  to  do  business  with  an  infinite  number  of  an- 
gles of  parallelism.  When  the  independent  variable  is 
in  the  close  neighborhood  of  infinity  the  angle  of  parallel- 
ism is  taken  to  be  in  the  close  neighborhood  of  zero  and 
at  the  very  limit  the  parallel  is  there  taken  to  be  coincident 
and  for  a  moment,  at  least,  current  with  the  line  that  else- 
where makes  with  it  the  angle  of  parallelism  (Theorem  23, 
paragraph  4). 

In  view  of  this  and  taking  also  into  account  various 
phrases  current  among  the  disciples  of  the  modern  Zeno. 
such  as  curvature  of  space,  the  divergence  of  perpendicu- 
lars, etc.,  the  inexpert,  and  I  surmise  some  of  the  non- 


A   MODERN    ZENO. 

inexpert,  mathematicians  would  be  apt  to  feel  misgiving 
lest  there  may  have  become  insinuated  into  the  whole  doc- 
trine some  subtile  fallacy.  With  such  volatile  elements 
to  work  with,  it  would  be  no  wonder  if  estimates  were  more 
or  less  loose  and  floating. 

There  is  ground  for  suspicion  that  the  countenance 
given  to  non-Euclidean  geometry  by  a  number  of  eminent 
mathematical  experts  has  somewhat  overawed  others  that 
are  very  meagrely  satisfied.  These  experts  have  wrapped 
up  the  doctrine  in  what  to  many  is  a  maze  of  analytical 
language  that  requires  a  good  deal  of  analytical  erudition 
to  compass  and  thoroughly  possess.  It  makes  the  logician 
inclined  to  ask  if  these  analysts  have  not  mistaken  some 
mere  grammatical  collocation  of  their  analytical  language 
for  a  real  ideal  possibility.  We  can  say  "round  square," 
but  nevertheless  a  "round  square"  is  an  absurdity.  May 
not  such  analysts  have  made  similar  constructions?  We 
shall  later  on  say  something  more  on  this  point. 

Lobatchevsky  however  delivered  his  doctrine  synthet- 
ically, and  it  is  with  his  version  that  our  present  note  of 
inquiry  is  concerned. 

There  is  another  thing  too  about  the  "angle  of  paral- 
lelism" that  challenges  attention.  He  says  of  the  lines 
radiating  from  A  and  intermediate  between  the  (/>)  line 
and  the  perpendicular  thereto  at  A  that  they  divide  into 
two  classes,  lines  that  cut  DC  and  lines  that  do  not  cut 
DC.  But  he  definitely  puts  his  parallel  among  the  lines 
that  do  not  cut.  But  how  about  the  relation  of  that  parallel 
to  the  next  line,  that  is,  the  line  that  is  the  last  of  the  lines 
that  cut  DC?  Does  it  make  an  angle  with  the  parallel  or 
is  it  the  same  line?  Do  we  not  here  begin  to  touch  the 
very  heart  of  the  problem  to  find  it  a  plain  case  of  Zenoism  ? 

If  the  lines  make  an  angle  I  suppose  that  that  angle  can 
be  bisected,  indeed  n-sected,  and  such  section-lines  will 
be  lines  that  neither  cut  nor  non-cut.  If  the  lines  are  only 


2Q8  THE  MONIST. 

one  single  line  then  we  have  a  line  that  both  cuts  and  non- 
cuts.  In  short,  we  have  the  ever-recurring  puzzle  of  how 
to  formulate  continuity. 

I  have  long  had  an  opinion  of  my  own  as  to  the  true 
avenue  of  reconciliation  and  without  any  sort  of  pretense 
that  said  opinion  is  especially  precious,  I  here  state  it  for 
whatever  it  may  prove  to  be  worth. 

In  dividing  the  lines  in  question  into  cutting  and  non- 
cutting  lines  Lobatchevsky  observes  the  logical  law  of  con- 
tradiction, viz.,  Any  A  is  not  any  not-A.  This  law 
has  two  applications,  subjective  and  objective,  and  the  ob- 
jective application  includes  our  ideas  when  the  same  are 
objectively  regarded.  In  its  subjective  application  the  law 
is,  at  least  in  our  present  state  of  intellectual  development, 
insuperable.  Its  observation  seems  to  be  an  indispensable 
condition  for  thought  at  all.  So  too  in  its  objective  appli- 
cation to  things  naturally  discrete  from  one  another  there 
is  at  least,  no  occasion  to  dispense  with  its  universality  and 
necessity.  But  in  its  objective  application  to  matters  that 
involve  the  continuity  of  the  objects  considered  the  law 
of  contradiction  is  not  always  of  necessary  compulsion, 
but  at  the  boundary  where  A  and  not-A  merge  with  one 
another  we  have  the  right,  and  as  I  say  the  perfectly  logical 
right  to  regard  the  boundary  specializations  either  as  A  or 
as  not-A,  just  as  one  or  the  other  fiat  of  ours  may  be  suit- 
able for  our  turn. 

There  is  another  thing  about  Lobatchevsky's  parallel 
that  ought  to  be  emphasized.  His  "angle  of  parallelism" 
he  makes  less  than  a  right  angle  but  he  does  not  ask  for  any 
finite  lessness.  Any  concession  from  a  right  angle  even 
though  it  be  infinitesimal,  aye,  even  though  it  be  an  in- 
finitesimal of  the  infinitieth  order,  will  satisfy  his  demands. 
And  at  the  other  end  of  the  parallel  he  only  asks  that  it 
shall  just  clear  the  perpendicular,  and  any  clearance  even 
of  the  most  infinitesimal  sort  will  do.  In  fact  this  sort  of 


• 


A   MODERN    ZENO. 


299 


clearance  is  just  what  he  does  expressly  demand.  Now 
an  infinitesimal  is  just  precisely  that  sort  of  a  quantity  that 
no  finite  number  thereof  will  avail  to  make  up  any  Unite 
quantity.  Yet  in  his  Theorem  23,  viz.,  "For  every  given 
angle  a  we  can  find  a  line  p  such  that  II  (p)=a"  he  pro- 
ceeds to  state  his  construction  thus: 

"Let  AB  and  AC  (Fig.  10)  be  two  straight  lines  which  at  the 
intersection  point  A  make  the  acute  angle  a ;  take  at  random  on  AB 


A.' 


Fig.  10. 


a  point  B' ;  from  this  point  drop  B'A'  at  right  angles  to  AC ;  make 
A'A"=AA/;  erect  at  A"  the  perpendicular  A"B"." 

And  then  we  find  him  going  on  as  follows: 

"And  so  continue  until  a  perpendicular  CD  is  attained,  which  no 
longer  intersects  AB.  This  must  of  necessity  happen,  for  if  in  the 
triangle  AA'B'  the  sum  of  all  three  angles  is  equal  to  TT  —  a,  then 
in  the  triangle  AB'A"  it  equals  ?r  —  2a,  in  the  triangle  AA"B"  less 
than  TT  —  2a  (Theorem  20),  and  so  forth,  until  it  finally  becomes 
negative  and  thereby  shows  the  impossibility  of  constructing  the 
triangle." 

That  "and  so  forth  until"  is  richly  monitory  of  the 
Zenonian  "and  so  on  ad  infinitum." 


3OO  THE  MONIST. 

Now  the  validity  of  the  construction  proposed  all  de- 
pends upon  whether  a,  the  deficiency  of  the  angle-sum  from 
two  right  angles  is  finite  or  infinitesimal,  and  the  fact  that 
Lobatchevsky  does  not  and  will  not  expressly  commit  him- 
self to  any  finite  deficiency,  is  what  his  brochure  as  a  whole 
makes  abundantly  manifest.  Yet  in  spite  of  that  we  find 
him  here  in  the  very  first  theorem  after  he  starts  with  his 
peculiar  assumptions  completed — a  theorem  in  virtue  of 
which  alone  his  peculiar  results  emerge — covertly  assum- 
ing that  the  deficiency  is  a  finite  deficiency. 

The  difficulty  of  proving  the  parallel  postulate  of  Euclid 
resides,  as  I  suppose,  simply  and  solely  by  reason  that  it 
affirms  the  meeting  of  the  lines  proposed  when  they  make 
interior  angles  on  the  same  side  are  less  than  two  right 
angles;  that  is  to  say:  Euclid  widens  his  postulate  so  as 
to  be  general  and  so  as  to  include  angle-sums  that  differ 
from  two  right  angles  by  only  an  infinitesimal  amount. 
Had  he  said  "less  than  two  right  angles  by  a  finite  amount 
of  angle"  all  the  special  and  peculiar  difficulty  would,  T 
suppose,  disappear,  for  if  the  lines  approach  one  nth  of  any 
distance  from  the  intersection  of  the  transversal,  for  that 
distance,  then  the  lines  would  meet  at  n  times  that  distance 
from  the  transversal.  Of  course  the  thus  restricted  postu- 
late would  not  answer  for  geometrical  purposes,  and  Euclid 
respected  its  debility. 


But  it  is  time  to  search  for  results  ourselves.  It  seems 
to  me  a  pretty  plain  proposition  that  if  the  angle-sum  of 
the  triangle  may  be,  and  is  supposed  to  be,  less  than  two 
right  angles,  then  such  a  figure  as  a  plane  rectangle  is 
impossible.  There  is  not  angle  stock  enough  in  the  two 
triangles  into  which  a  plane  quadrilateral  may  be  bisected 
to  make  up  four  right  angles.  A  plane  quadrilateral  may 
on  the  assumption  in  question  have  one,  two,  perhaps  three, 


A   MODERN    ZENO.  3OI 

but  not  four  right  angles.    As  a  corollary  a  square  is  im- 
possible and  the  cube  is  in  like  case. 

Since  the  service  of  arithmetic,  algebra,  and  all  mathe- 
matical analysis  in  geometry  is  due  entirely  to  the  exact 
appropriation  of  those  branches  of  science  to  the  Euclidean 
assumptions,  may  it  not  well  be  wondered  what  good  and 
true  services  they  can  render  on  behalf  of  assumptions  that 
conflict  with  those  of  Euclid?  When  rectangles,  squares, 
and  cubes  are  impossible  what  geometrical  meaning  can 
products  and  quotients,  powers  and  roots  have  ?  And  how 
can  addition  and  subtraction  manage  to  straddle  congru- 
ently  between  the  Euclidean  and  the  non-Euclidean  prod- 
ucts and  powers,  quotients  and  roots?  How  analysis  can 
confirm  non-Euclidean  assumptions  seems  to  me  to  be  a 
matter  needing  explanation. 

I  will  now  proceed  to  state  and  explain  certain  con- 
siderations that  seem  to  me  to  be  wholly  irreconcilable 
with  any  claim  that  the  assumptions  of  Lobatchevsky  lead 
to  no  contradictory  results  and  that  utterly  prevent  the 
same  from  presenting  that  harmony  that  is  the  mark  of 
true  science. 

Consider  the  figure  following. 


C' 


AD  is  here  the  (/>)  line,  AH  the  parallel  making  the 
angle  of  parallelism  HAD.  DC  is  the  perpendicular  to 
the  (/>)  line  at  D,  and  AE  the  perpendicular  to  the  same 
line  at  A.  Draw  also  through  A  the  line  AK,  making  the 
angle  KAD  equal  to  the  angle  of  parallelism  HAD.  Now 
prolong  all  of  these  lines,  except  the  (/>)  line,  boundlessly 
in  straight  lines  but  in  the  reverse  sense:  DC  towards 


3O2  THE  MONIST. 

and  beyond  C',  AE  towards  and  beyond  E',  AH  towards 
and  beyond  H',  and  AK  towards  and  beyond  K'.  Prolong 
the  (/>)  line  to  D',  making  AD'=  AD  and  through  D'  draw 
the  boundless  straight  line  BD'B'  perpendicular  to  DAD'. 
Then  the  angle  H'AD'  will  be  equal  to  the  angle  of  paral- 
lelism HAD,  according  to  Theorem  6  (vertical  angles). 
Both  will  be  angles  of  parallelism  II  (/?).  AD'  will  be  a 
replica  of  the  (/?)  line  and  DD'=2(/>).  In  short  the  figure 
H'AD'B'  will  be  in  all  respects  the  same  case  as  is  the 
case  of  the  figure  HADC.  H'A  will  be  parallel  to  B'D'  by 
the  very  same  manner  of  token  that  HA  is  parallel  to  DC, 
and  since  "a  straight  line  maintains  the  characteristic  of 
parallelism  at  all  its  points"  (Theorem  17)  the  whole  line 
H'H  is  parallel  to  B'D';  and  again,  since  "two  lines  are 
always  mutually  parallel"  (Theorem  18)  B'D'  is  parallel 
to  H'A  and  to  H'AH,  and  still  again  by  Theorem  17  B'D'B 
is  parallel  to  H'AH.  By  precisely  the  same  manner  of 
token  the  line  H'AH  is  shown  to  be  parallel  to  C'DC  and 
C'DC  parallel  to  H'AH.  But  "two  straight  lines  which 
are  parallel  to  a  third  are  also  parallel  to  one  another" 
(Theorem  25)  so  that  B'B  is  parallel  to  C'C  and  both  be- 
ing perpendicular  to  DAD'  it  seems  to  be  shown  that  some 
lines  at  least  that  are  each  perpendicular  to  the  same  trans- 
versal are  parallel  to  each  other,  and  it  also  seems  to  be 
shown  that  whenever  the  (p)  line  is  double  some  other 
instance  of  its  species  the  angle  of  parallelism  is  a  right 
angle. 

This  looks  to  me  very  much  like  a  proof  that  in  all  cases 
the  angle  of  parallelism  is  a  right  angle. 

Now  by  the  very  same  course  of  deduction  (no  step  of 
which  is  unsanctioned  in  the  "system"  of  Lobatchevsky) 
the  line  KAK'  is  shown  to  be  parallel  to  HAH'  and  to 
EAE',  in  spite  of  the  rather  important  feature  that  they 
cut  one  another  at  A. 

So,  unless  I  am  altogether  mistaken  in  the  above,  we 


A   MODERN    ZENO.  303 

find  ourselves  in  view  of  a  very  curious  and  remarkable 
phase  in  the  history  of  geometric  research.  We  find  Lobat- 
chevsky  hitting  upon  the  right  and  sufficient  way  of  prov- 
ing the  parallel  postulate  of  Euclid.  We  find  him  pur- 
suing that  way  with  eminent  success  for  a  while,  but  at 
Theorem  23  getting  shunted  by  the  confounding  of  the 
infinitesimal  with  the  finite. 

Still  it  may  be  that  there  is  something  about  the  mat- 
ter that  I  do  not  understand.  If  so  I  can  only  protest  that 
my  failure  is  not  due  to  any  lack  of  very  respectful  (I  do 
not  want  to  say  absurdly  respectful)  study  of  Lobat- 
chevsky's  little  brochure. 

Considering  that  the  modern  man,  aye,  even  the  modern 
man  of  so-called  liberal  education,  finds  himself  lost  be- 
tween a  disposition  on  his  part  to  respect  the  august  maj- 
esty of  mathematics  and  a  disposition  tempting  him  to 
regard  the  non-Euclideans  something  as  the  mathematician 
regards  the  circle-squarer  and  the  perpetual  motionist,  it 
would  seem  as  though  it  might  be  worth  the  while  for 
some  one  of  the  non-Euclidean  sect  to  so  explain  their 
doctrine  as  to  make  it  manifestly  clear  and  sound  to  minds 
as  unable  as  mine. 

It  is  very  much  to  be  wished  that  mathematicians 
would  have  less  contempt  for  the  philosophers  and  that 
the  philosophers  would  follow  less  that  esteem  for  mathe- 
matical power  of  survey  and  penetration  that  led  Sir  Wil- 
liam Hamilton  to  judge  them  only  able  to  walk  straight 
in  a  ditch  dug  by  others.  In  Dr.  Paul  Carus  we  have  an 
instance  all  too  rare  of  a  philosopher  fully  up  to  date  and 
fully  furnished  in  mathematics  so  far  as  the  same  has  any 
philosophical  import.  His  Foundations  of  Mathematics 
deals  with  the  questions  now  most  in  gestation  in  a  way 
and  with  a  mastery  that  the  mathematicians  can  ill  afford 
to  neglect.  In  particular  the  three  cardinal  conceptions 
of  anyness,  uniquity  and  even  boundaries  are  therein,  so 


304 


THE  MONIST. 


far  as  I  am  aware,  first  put  forward  and  exhibited  in  clear 
relief  as  the  most  significant  and  consequential  ideas  that 
contribute  to  the  foundations  of  mathematics. 


To  my  mind  it  is  the  calamity  of  geometry  that  it  falls 
down  at  its  very  start  in  not  providing  a  thoroughly  com- 
petent definition  of  the  straight  line.  The  conception  is 
pervadingly  necessary  everywhere  in  mathematics.  All 
things  in  mathematics  have  been  made  by  it,  and  without  it 
has  not  been  made  anything  that  has  been  made;  and  all 
the  modern  questions  concerning  the  foundations  of  geom- 
etry— the  nature,  origin  and  meaning  of  axioms  and  the 
like — are  embarrassed  to  the  point  of  insolubility  simply 
and  solely  by  reason  of  the  lacking  definition.  I  hope, 
therefore,  I  shall  be  pardoned  on  account  of  my  good  in- 
tentions, if  for  nothing  else,  when  I  offer  for  scrutiny  and 
judgment  a  definition  which  so  far  as  I  know  is  a  new 
one  and  seems  to  me  to  depend  upon  nothing  experiential  in 
its  nature  except  the  unalterability  of  the  interval.  I  show, 
I  think,  how  the  ruler  may  be  derived  by  means  of  the 
compass  alone.  As  an  introduction  consider  the  figure 
following : 


Zl 


It  is  constructed  thus :  Take  any  two  points,  say  A  and 


A    MODERN    ZENO.  305 

B.  With,  say,  A  as  a  turn-point  (it  might  just  as  well 
have  been  B)  and  with  the  interval  AB  as  the  compass 
opening,  scribe  the  circle  Rxi  ^2  etc.  clear  around  complete. 
Then  with  B  as  turn-point  and  with  any  opening  of  the 
compass,  short  of  2AB,  mark  off  on  the  first  circle  two 
points,  say  x\  and  yi.  The  same  will  be,  of  course,  at 
equal  intervals  from  B.  Then  from  each  of  the  points  so 
marked  scribe  circles  with  the  compass  opening  the  inter- 
val AB.  Such  circles  will  all  pass  through  A,  but  besides 
that  they  will  otherwhere  intersect  and  determine  a  point 
as,  say  zit  Now  for  each  possible  pair  of  points  thus  de- 
termined on  the  first  circle,  there  will  be  thus  determined 
by  the  circle  intersections  lastly  above  mentioned  a  point, 
and  each  and  all  of  these  last  mentioned  points  will  lie  in 
a  straight  line. 

But  stop!  I  have  been  talking  as  though  I  assumed 
the  plane  to  be  already  earned  and  known,  and  until  we 
duly  and  geometrically  earn  the-  plane  we  have  no  geo- 
metric right  to  use  it.  I  have  employed  my  figure  and  my 
comment  thereupon  just  to  lead  the  imagination  a  little 
so  that  it  will  easier  picture  and  understand  the  real  figure 
I  desire  to  use,  which  cannot  be  drawn  upon  paper. 

I  now  say,  Take  any  two  separate  points,  say  A  and  B. 
With  either  of  them,  say  A,  as  a  turn-point  and  with  the 
interval  AB  scribe  a  sphere.  Then  from  B  as  a  turn-point 
and  with  any  interval  short  of  2AB  scribe  any  secondary 
sphere.  The  infinitely  numerous  thus  possible  secondary 
spheres  will  each  intersect  the  primary  sphere  in  a  curve 
(in  fact  a  circle).  On  any  such  curve  select  at  random 
any  triad  of  separate  points,  and  with  each  so  selected 
point  as  a  turn-point  and  with  the  interval  AB  as  radius 
scribe  tertiary  spheres,  three  in  all.  Such  tertiary  spheres 
will  all  pass  through  A,  but  they  will  besides  at  another 
place  intersect  in  and  determine  a  point.  Now  for  each 
of  the  infinitely  numerous  point  triads  prepared  for  and 


3O6  THE  MONIST. 

selected,  as  I  have  prescribed,  there  will  be  thus  deter- 
mined a  single  and  unique  point,  and  all  these  so  deter- 
mined and  last  mentioned  points  will  lie  in  a  straight  line. 
The  limited  straight  line  so  formed  or  rather  the  infinitely 
numerous  array  of  points  thus  determinable  and  that  stud 
the  line,  I  call  The  Straight  Range,  and  it  is  easy  to  see 
that  it  will  be  4AB  in  extent. 

I  define  it  thus:  The  Straight  Range  is  a  continuous 
linear  array  of  points  such  that  any  point  of  it  is  separated 
from  each  one  of  some  triad  of  separate  points  by  a  common 
interval  X  and  each  one  of  said  triad  of  separate  points  is 
at  once  at  the  interval  X  from  one  of  a  pair  of  points  that 
are  separated  by  the  interval  X  and  at  a  common  interval 
Y  from  the  other  one  of  said  pair  of  points. 

No  doubt  a  draftsman  would  have  to  be  eminently  ex- 
pert to  locate  some  of  the  points  with  precision,  but  that 
does  not  much  detract  from  the  scientific  value  of  the  con- 
struction. 

Just  as  we  center  the  primary  sphere  at  A  so  we  may 
also  center  the  same  at  B  and  proceed  to  construct  a  range 
in  all  respects  similarly  as  when  A  is  taken.  The  two 
ranges  will  perfectly  coincide  as  to  three-fourths  of  their 
several  and  respective  extents  and  so  all  but  the  extreme 
ends  of  the  combined  range  5AB  will  be  perfectly  deter- 
mined even  for  the  draftsman. 

The  chief  use  of  the  straight  range  construction  is  the 
insight  or  atsight  it  gives  us  as  to  the  nature  of  the  straight 
line.  It  enables  us  to  see  just  what  it  is  that  is  the  essence 
of  the  straightness  of  the  straight  line,  viz.,  the  perfect 
uniquity  of  any  point  of  any  triad  of  points  upon  it  in 
respect  to  the  joint  pair  of  intervals  that  separate  it  from 
the  other  points  of  said  triad  of  points.  It  is  the  only 
point  that  exists  that  has  at  once  and  jointly  those  inter- 
vals. So  I  define  the  straight  line  as  follows: 

I  first  define  The  Straight  Point-Triad  thus: 


A   MODERN    ZENO.  307 

The  Straight  Point-Triad  is  a  triad  of  points  such  that 
any  point  of  the  triad  is  the  only  point  that  exists  that  has 
together  at  once  the  same  pair  of  intervals  that  it  has  from 
the  other  points  of  the  triad  respectively.  Then : 

The  Straight  Line  is  a  line  such  that  any  triad  of  points 
upon  it  is  a  straight  point-triad. 

Suppose  we  now  venture  to  define  the  plane  by  its 
points.  Conformably  with  the  above  definition  I  would 
say  that  it  takes  four  points  to  define  a  plane,  and  I  would 
first  define  the  plane  point-tetrad  thus : 

The  Plane  Point-Tetrad  is  a  point-tetrad  such  that  no 
point-triad  of  it  being  a  straight  point-triad  any  point  of 
it  is  the  only  point  that  exists  that  together  at  once  has  the 
same  triad  of  intervals  that  it  has  from  the  other  points  of 
the  point-tetrad  respectively. — Then: 

The  Plane  is  a  surface  such  that  any  point-tetrad  upon 
it  that  has  no  straight  point-triad  is  a  plane  point-tetrad. 

Plane  point-tetrads  divide  into  two  sorts  according  to 
whether  one  of  the  points  is  within  the  plane  opening  be- 
tween the  other  three  points,  or  whether  no  one  of  the 
points  is  within  said  opening.  Call  the  former  sort  close 
plane  point-tetrads  and  the  latter  sort  convex  plane  point- 
tetrads.  In  every  close  plane  point-tetrad  say,  abed, 
where,  say  d  is  the  point  within  the  others,  there  exists 
for  each  of  the  latter  a  point  xn  such  that  a  d  xlf  b  d  x2  and 
c  d  x3  will  all  of  them  be  straight  point-triads.  In  every 
convex  plane  point-tetrad  the  other  points  stand  with  re- 
lation to  any  one  of  them  as  adjacent  points  two  in  number 
or  as  a  single  opposite  point,  and  a  single  point  y  exists 
such  that  it  forms  with  the  adjacent  points  a  straight  point- 
triad  and  with  the  opposite  points  another  straight  point- 
triad.  But  I  have  not  yet  put  together  enough  of  "The 
Elements  of  Compass  Geometry"  to  make  it  worth  while 
to  pursue  here  whither  it  will  lead.  But  I  hope  I  am  not 
mistaken  in  my  faith  that  geometry  depends  at  last  upon 


3O8  THE  MONIST. 

one  non-subjective  datum  alone,  to  wit:  the  invariance  of 
the  interval,  and  I  furthermore  avow  my  faith  that  this 
datum  is  indispensable,  ineluctable. 

Prof.  Cayley  showed  that  everything  in  non- Euclidean 
geometry  could  be  perfectly  presented  in  ordinary  Euclid- 
ean space  (as  it  is  called)  by  suitably  varying  the  notion 
of  distance.  But  the  necessity  of  the  fixed  unalterable 
interval  as  a  foundation  is  not  thus  to  be  surmounted,  for 
variation  itself  has  no  meaning,  norm  or  description  when 
it  lacks  the  basis  and  background  of  the  invariable  interval. 

FRANCIS  C.  RUSSELL. 
CHICAGO,  ILL. 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS. 

IN  HOW  FAR  WAS  BEL  THE  CHRIST  OF  ANCIENT 

TIMES? 

Whoever  has  had  any  acquaintance  with  Dr.  Radau  and  his 
writings  need  scarcely  be  told  that  his  little  book,  Bel,,  the  Christ  of 
Ancient  Times*  like  his  other  works,  is  packed  to  overflowing  with 
Sumerian  grammatical  criticism  and  information  and  is,  on  that 
account  alone  of  value  to  any  student  of  that  cryptic  and  most  an- 
cient of  languages.  We  will  grant  indeed  that  he  is  one  of  the 
greatest,  perhaps  even  the  greatest  living  authority  upon  it. 

Yet  the  title  is  perhaps  misleading  to  many  prospective  readers. 
For  such  may  possibly  imagine  that  the  intention  is  to  prove  the 
Christ  of  Catholic  belief  merely  a  latter-day  replica  of  Bel,  the 
heathen  god,  long  outworn ! 

But  the  object  is  widely  different.  And  while  we  may  not  fol- 
low the  author  in  many  of  his  arguments,  yet  the  general  conclusion 
is  the  by  no  means  startling  one,  that  the  men  of  ancient  Babylon 
felt  the  very  human  need  for  comfort  and  hope  amid  the  ever  present 
grim  facts  of  suffering  and  death,  and  thus  created  for  themselves 
in  their  own  image,  as  they  must  needs  have  done,  a  redeemer  who 
should  conquer  death  and  hell  and  bring  to  weary  souls  redemption 
and  immortality. 

This,  we  say,  is  both  as  it  should  be  and  as  it  must  be  in  all 
ages  and  among  all  races.  The  Egyptians  had  Osiris,  their  suffering 
redeemer.  Greece  and  Rome  had  the  Orphic  and  Eleusinian  mys- 
teries and  Mithras.  The  Aztecs,  the  Incas,  and  the  primitive  Amer- 
ican Indians  all  had  quite  similar  faiths.  And  were  we  to  hereafter 
discover  a  hitherto  unknown  hyperborean  race,  we  may  be  confident 
that  whatever  philosophy  and  religion  they  may  have  created,  will 
be  along  these  age  old  lines.  For  its  roots  lie,  ineradicably,  in  the 
fundamental  needs  and  aspirations  of  man. 

*  Chicago :  Open  Court  Publishing  Co.,  1908. 


3IO  THE  MONIST. 

And  it  is  a  familiar  commonplace  of  Catholic  theology,  that  it 
was  this  universal  desire  for  and  expectation  of  the  Man-God  Re- 
deemer, that  imperatively  demanded  and  necessitated  its  fulfilment 
in  the  Incarnation  of  Him,  who  was  "the  Light  that  lighteth  every 
man  that  cometh  into  the  world" ;  and  the  "Desire  of  all  nations." 
So  that  here  as  in  lesser  cases  prophecy,  whether  heathen  or  "re- 
vealed," was  merely  insight  into  what  by  dire  necessity  had  to  be. 
And  Christianity,  therefore,  is  not,  as  Puritanism  heretically  con- 
ceived, an  artificial  "scheme  of  salvation,"  foisted  upon  an  unwilling 
and  utterly  alien  world.  But  is,  on  the  contrary,  the  Catholic  faith, 
which  summarizes,  completes,  and  makes  secure  all  the  various 
partial  broken  insights  and  wavering  desires  for  good,  in  the  heathen 
religions  and  philosophies ;  which  heathen  faiths  are  indeed,  by  their 
very  nature,  nothing  more  than  the  instinctive  gropings  of  men  after 
truth  and  God,  if  "haply  they  might  find  Him."  They  had  faults 
and  defects;  unquestionably,  many  and  obvious.  But  these,  in 
nearly  every  case,  were  simply  the  defects  of  imperfect  insight 
springing  from  the  unavoidable  limitations  imposed  by  racial  capa- 
bilities and  environment.  In  short,  they  were  "right  in  their  asser- 
tions, but  wrong  in  their  negations."  So  that  Christianity  comes, 
as  the  Catholic  faith,  not  to  destroy,  but  to  fulfil, — and  to  fulfil  not 
merely  Judaism,  but  all  the  other  ethnic  beliefs ;  and  only  supersedes, 
because  it  so  fulfils. 

Hence,  not  only  Bel  but  all  the  gods  of  the  elder  world  were 
in  a  very  real  sense  the  "Christs"  of  their  several  times.  And,  in 
each  and  every  case,  much  of  their  mythology  and  doctrines  can  be 
paralleled  by  something  in  Christianity, — indeed,  must  be  paralleled, 
if  that  is  to  be  the  final  truth. 

But  to  turn  this  the  wrong  way  about  as  some  may  seek  to  do, 
and  claim  that  Christianity  is  therefore  nothing  better  than  a  re- 
vamped Babylonianism,  or  Buddhism,  or  Parseeism,  as  the  case  may 
be,  is  surely  to  woefully  misread  the  story!  It  is  quite  as  if  some 
one  claimed  that  the  events  in  American  history  were  by  no  means 
new,  but  were  word  for  word,  and  act  for  act,  not  merely  similar  in 
some  respects  to,  but  identical  replicas  of  the  words  and  events  in 
Babylonia  8000  years  ago! 

ALAN  S.  HAWKESWORTH. 

PITTSBURGH,  PA. 


BOOK  REVIEWS  AND  NOTES. 

PARALIPOMENA.    REMAINS  OF  GOSPELS  AND  SAYINGS  OF  CHRIST.     By  Rev.  B. 

Pick.  Chicago :  Open  Court  Publishing  Co.,  1908.  Pp.  158.  Price,  75c. 
This  book  contains :  ( I )  in  eleven  chapters  remains  of  extracanonical  gos- 
pels; (2)  some  important  gospel-manuscript  readings;  (3)  scattered  gospel- 
sayings  from  different  sources;  (4)  an  appendix  giving  the  Apocalypse  of 
Peter  and  a  complete  bibliography  on  the  matter  treated.  For  him  who  wishes 
to  become  acquainted  with  the  remains  of  extracanonical  gospels  and  sayings 
of  Jesus  this  short  work  will  be  very  instructive.  He  will  be  astonished  to 
find  how  up  to  about  220  all  the  noted  ecclesiastical  writers  made  use  of  the 
extracanonical  gospels  and  sayings  of  Jesus  in  the  same  way  as  of  the  canon- 
ical, showing  that  up  to  that  time  no  distinction  was  made  between  canonical 
and  apocryphal.  We  first  notice  it  in  the  time  of  Origen  (d.  254).  We  see 
that  Clemens  Romanus,  Papias,  Justin  Martyr,  Athenagoras,  Hegesippus, 
Irenaeus,  Clemens  Alexandrinus,  Tertullian  largely  cite  from  apocryphal 
sources  and  give  them  credence.  We  also  notice  that  some  extracanonical 
gospels  stand  very  near  to  the  time  of  the  canonical,  perhaps  some  even  date 
from  the  same  age.  It  is  a  question  whether,  if  one  reads  these  remains  and 
sayings  with  an  unprejudiced  mind,  he  would  find  any  greater  crudities,  ab- 
surdities and  incredibilities  in  the  apocryphal  gospels  than  in  the  canonical. 
The  writers  of  the  former  had  the  same  right  to  treat  the  traditional  matter 
about  Jesus  in  their  way,  from  their  own  standpoint,  to  suit  the  views  of 
some  particular  sect  or  party,  as  did  the  so-called  canonical  gospel-writers, 
who  likewise  wrote  to  suit  different  views  and  different  parties.  That  so  little 
has  come  down  to  us  of  the  apocryphal  gospels,  is  probably  due  to  the  relent- 
less attitude  of  the  growing  Catholic  Church  to  suppress  all  so-called  heretical 
writings.  If  we  had  all  the  extracanonical  literature  which  is  lost,  we  would 
get  a  truer  picture  of  the  origin  of  Christianity  and  the  rivalry  of  the  different 
parties  in  it  from  which  later  rose  the  domineering  Catholic  Church,  which 
then  arbitrarily  declared  what  was  canonical  and  not  canonical.  We  therefore 
gladly  welcome  all  that  we  can  get  of  the  earliest  apocryphal  Christian  litera- 
ture. It  would  have  been  very  interesting  if  Mr.  Pick  had  also  taken  up  in 
his  work  the  so-called  Protevangelium  of  James,  whose  main  elements  also 
date  from  the  second  century.  From  this  gospel  we  would  have  seen  how 
the  literature  on  the  infancy  of  Jesus  and  his  birth  by  a  virgin,  begun  by 
Matthew  and  extended  by  Luke,  developed  into  literature,  which  not  only 
made  Mary  conceive  as  a  virgin  but  remain  a  virgin  to  her  end,  the  beginning 
of  all  the  later  Mariolatry. 


312  THE  MONIST. 

It  is  interesting  to  read  in  Mr.  Pick's  book  in  the  so-called  "Preaching  of 
Peter,"  considered  authentic  by  Clemens  Alexandrinus,  and  already  made  use 
of  by  Aristides  in  his  apology  to  Hadrian  according  to  Hennecke,  (Neutesta- 
mentliche  Apokryphen),  that  Jesus  commanded  his  Apostles  not  to  depart  from 
Jerusalem  for  twelve  years  and  that  according  to  the  Codex  Askew. :  "Jesus, 
after  his  ascension  descended  again  to  earth  and  for  eleven  years,  instructing 
his  disciples,  etc."  From  this  we  see  that  the  great  discrepancies  already  ex- 
isting in  the  canonical  gospels  concerning  the  resurrection  of  Jesus  and  the 
time  of  his  sojourn  with  his  disciples  till  his  ascension,  became  more  widened 
yet  in  apocryphal  literature.  This  reminds  me  of  the  early  epistle  of  Barna- 
bas, which  makes  Jesus  ascend  the  same  day  on  which  he  arose  from  the  grave, 
while  according  to  Harnack  some  ancient  Christian  writers  place  18  months 
between  the  resurrection  and  ascension. 

Important  in  the  appendix  are  the  remains  of  the  so-called  Revelation  of 
Peter,  which,  according  to  the  Canon  Muratori  (end  of  the  second  century) 
were  received  in  the  Church  with  the  canonical  Apocalypse  of  John,  as  giving 
a  horrible  imagery  of  hell  and  its  torments  developed  beyond  the  already 
strong  colors  of  the  canonical  writings  in  this  respect.  We  beg  to  differ  though 
from  the  statement  on  p.  118  and  think  that  the  apocalypse  of  Peter  stands  in 
close  connection  with  the  fearful  descriptions  of  hell  in  the  pre-Christian 
Judaic  Book  of  Enoch,  based  on  earlier  Oriental  descriptions  of  hell  from 
which  very  probably  also  the  Orphic-Pythagorean  Hades-books  of  the  Greeks 
have  descended. 

While  looking  up  a  reference  to  Eusebius  on  p.  96  I  noticed  an  error. 
Instead  of  Hist.  Eccl.  V,  18,  14  it  should  read  V,  21,  14. 

A.  KAMPMEIER. 


MODERN  CLASSICAL  PHILOSOPHERS.  Selections  Illustrating  Modern  Philos- 
ophy from  Bruno  to  Spencer.  Compiled  by  Benjamin  Rand,  Ph.  D. 
Boston:  Houghton,  Mifflin,  1908.  Pp.  740. 

This  book  is  practically  a  history  of  philosophy,  but  the  attempt  has  been 
made  to  apply  to  the  realm  of  philosophy  the  case  system  which  is  so  success- 
ful in  the  teaching  of  law.  That  is  to  say,  instead  of  giving  a  resume  of  the 
different  systems  it  gives  carefully  edited  selections  from  the  original  works 
or  translations  of  them.  It  is  a  valuable  work,  well  executed,  and  provides 
the  general  reader  with  a  volume  from  which  he  may  readily  discover  the 
content  and  method  of  the  great  philosophical  masters  of  the  modern  period. 
"Beginning  with  Bruno,  the  philosophical  martyr,  the  dialogue  which  appears 
in  this  work  is  one  in  which  the  author  describes  the  unity  and  divine  im- 
manence in  all  things  in  the  universe,  thereby  anticipating  the  doctrine  of 
Spinoza.  From  Bacon  has  been  selected  an  account  of  'the  idols'  or  false 
notions  which  hinder  men  from  a  right  pursuit  of  scientific  research,  and  of 
the  theory  of  induction  by  which  they  may  advance  in  a  true  interpretation  of 
nature.  The  passages  from  Hobbes  contain  his  doctrine  of  the  natural  state 
of  man  as  one  of  war,  and  of  the  necessity  of  'that  great  Leviathan/  whereby 
peace  and  order  may  be  established  in  the  political  commonwealth.  Of  Des- 
cartes, a  part  of  the  'Discourse  on  Method'  is  printed  first,  since  it  contains 


BOOK  REVIEWS  AND  NOTES.  313 

his  intellectual  autobiography  and  his  peculiar  principles  of  method  for  the 
attainment  of  truth ;  a  transition  is  then  made  to  his  'Meditations  on  First 
Philosophy,'  to  set  forth  the  application  of  his  method  of  doubt  to  the  dis- 
covery of  absolute  certainty,  and  also  his  attempt  to  demonstrate  the  existence 
of  God.  From  'The  Ethics'  of  Spinoza  are  given  the  doctrines  of  his  one 
eternal  substance  as  the  immanent  cause  of  the  universe,  of  his  three  kinds  of 
cognition,  and  of  his  intellectual  love  of  God.  The  'Monadology'  of  Leibnitz 
is  reproduced  in  full." 

Thus  in  his  preface  the  editor  enumerates  what  parts  he  has  utilized, 
passing  on  further  to  mention  chronologically  Locke,  Berkeley,  Hume,  Con- 
dillac,  Kant,  Fichte,  Hegel,  Schopenhauer,  Comte,  Mill  and  Spencer. 


CONCEPTS  OF  MONISM.    By  A.  Worsley.    London:  T.  Fisher  Unwin,  1907.    Pp. 
356,  Price  2is. 

This  book  is  not  quite  what  it  seems.  The  Author  understands  by  monism 
a  philosophy  which  claims  "that  there  can  be  but  One  Source  from  which 
spring  all  things,  both  real  and  imagined  (p.  ix).  Thought  is  mainly  shaped 
by  a  study  of  Brahman  monism  which  he  mainly  derives  from  the  transla- 
tions and  commentaries  of  Max  Muller.  He  prefers  to  discuss  these  Chinese 
exponents  of  monism  for  the  reason  that  they  are  little  known  in  England. 
He  says  (p.  viii)  : 

"I  deal  at  some  length  with  the  Idealistic  Philosophies  of  India,  because 
they  seem  to  rest  upon  an  almost  unassailable  basis ;  and  also  because  the  im- 
portance of  these  systems  has  not  generally  received  due  recognition  from 
British  authors.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Idealist  systems  of  southern  Europe 
are  so  well  known  to  our  philosophers  that  no  possible  benefit  could  accrue 
from  restating  them. 

"On  the  Empirical  side,  the  modern  Monistic  system,  so  ably  expounded 
by  Haeckel,  has  absorbed  every  argument  that  has  been  deduced  from  Sub- 
jective Knowledge,  so  that  it  is  unnecessary  to  recontrovert  those  systems 
which  he  has  irrevocably  overthrown." 

Haeckel's  ideas  are  scattered  over  the  book,  without  however  modern- 
izing the  author's  love  of  the  Orient  to  any  extent.  He  works  into  his  system 
some  views  of  Renan,  Ostwald,  Hume,  Schopenhauer,  Berkeley,  Du  Bois- 
Reymond  and  others  who  somehow  or  other  are  sympathetic  to  him,  and  the 
idealistic  monism  of  the  Brahman  philosophy  is  enriched  by  a  study  of  Lao- 
Tze  and  Confucius.  Upon  this  foundation  our  author  builds  his  philosophy 
with  a  considerable  breadth  of  mind  which  as  is  well  known  is  quite  in  keeping 
with  his  authorities.  The  work  which  Vignana  Bhikshu  did  for  the  old 
orthodox  Brahman  philosophies  Mr.  Worsley  has  attempted  to  do  for  philos- 
ophy as  a  whole.  He  says  : 

"If  Vignana  Bhikshu  could  discern  an  underlying  unity  in  all  the  orthodox 
Brahmanic  philosophies,  is  it  not  given  to  us  to  discern  the  unity  of  all  philos- 
ophy? I  say  that  it  is.  That  although  no  system  has  reached  the  Truth,  the 
Absolute,  yet  that  every  philosophy  has  had  some  vision  of  That  One.  Some 
have  seen  more  than  others ;  some  have  seen  much,  but  indistinctly,  others 
have  seen  little,  but  clearly.  In  some  cases  what  was  clearly  seen  by  earlier 


314  THE  MONIST. 

sages  has  become  dimmed  and  blurred  to  our  later  vision;  in  others  doubts 
have  been  dispelled  and  difficulties  overcome.  Therefore  it  is  that  I  have 
striven  in  this  system  of  Monism  to  build  upon  the  foundation  of  Knowledge 
common  to  all  the  greatest  philosophies.  When  all  demonstrable  errors  have 
been  eliminated,  and  the  comparison  has  been  accomplished,  I  claim  that  some- 
thing remains  to  be  distilled  from  every  philosophy  and  every  religion." 

Mr.  Worsley  is  not  hostile  to  the  views  which  he  has  left  behind.  He 
recognizes  them  as  errors.  He  gives  up  the  Christian  idea  of  a  personal  God 
and  a  heaven  beyond  the  clouds,  and  accepts  in  its  place  a  supreme  spirit  and 
a  beyond  of  preeminently  Vedantic  conceptions.  He  says: 

"We  must  not  forget  that  when,  in  the  search  for  Truth,  we  leave  behind  the 
World  of  alleged  facts,  we  leave  also  a  vast  array  of  necessary  and  unneces- 
sary attendant  Errors.  For  our  senses,  as  in  a  mist,  darkly,  give  us  at  best 
but  transitory  and  faulty  impressions  within  the  field  of  subjectivity.  But  the 
Mind  may  see,  by  the  light  of  Pure  Reason,  beyond  this  veil  of  the  Material, 
into  a  great  Beyond  where  Object  and  Subject  cease  to  mirage  each  other  in 
distorted  duality,  and  become  simply  a  phase,  an  idea." 

How  constructive  his  imitations  are  appears  from  the  following  passage : 

"To  Monists  there  can  clearly  be  no  such  active  personal  God  as  is  wor- 
shiped by  believers  in  revelation ;  no  Good  or  Bad,  nothing  either  praiseworthy 
or  blameworthy  in  any  transcendent  sense ;  for  there  can  be  no  absolute  sanc- 
tion for  relative  perceptions.  But  on  the  other  hand  Monists  admit  the  possi- 
bility of  all  moral  and  of  many  religious  concepts  as  being  beneficial,  necessary, 
and  even  relatively  true.  Their  philosophy  does  not  close  the  door  against 
any  devout  person,  but  rather  calls  upon  him  to  clearly  realize  that  we  can 
have  no  absolute  sanction  for  any  action  whatever,  and  that  the  values  of 
all  moral  teachings  must  be  gauged,  not  by  any  absolute  standard,  but  rather 
by  their  effects  upon  humanity.  To  this  extent  actions  may  be  good  or  bad, 
praiseworthy  or  blameworthy,  and  the  Gods  of  Religion  or  the  Isvaras  of 
Philosophy  are  good  too,  if,  by  any  such  process  of  imagery,  benefits  result. 
Hence  those  who  have  so  read  this  book  as  to  deem  Monism  a  destructive, 
rather  than  a  constructive,  philosophy,  have  misconceived  the  plan  of  my 
work." 


DIE  WELTANSCHAUUNG  SPINOZA'S.    Von  Dr.  Phil.  Alfred  Wenzel.    Leipsic: 

Engelmann,  1907.     Pp.  478. 

In  his  preface  Dr.  Wenzel  explains  that  it  is  quite  an  accident  that  he 
became  enough  interested  in  Spinoza  to  undertake  an  extensive  investigation 
into  his  world-conception.  It  was  at  the  time  of  a  severe  illness  that  he  re- 
newed his  acquaintance  with  Spinoza's  writings,  and  he  says  that  the  old 
charm  worked  anew,  and  he  soon  realized  that  in  the  extant  works  of  this 
great  man  and  thinker  there  lay  an  inexhaustible  balm  of  blessings  and  comfort 
for  the  soul  of  the  matured  man  of  to-day.  In  his  convalescence  he  undertook 
a  further  study  of  Spinozist  writers  and  critics,  and  was  astonished  to  find 
that  he  stood  practically  alone  in  his  conception  of  Spinoza's  system,  and  that 
in  spite  of  a  large  amount  of  literature  that  had  been  written  on  the  subject, 
the  views  of  the  later  authors  often  differed  very  widely  on  the  most  important 
questions  of  Spinoza's  teachings.  He  found  himself  almost  completely  in 


BOOK  REVIEWS  AND  NOTES.  315 

sympathy  with  Friedrichs's  Der  Substanzbe  griff  Spinozas  (Greifswald,  1896), 
but  for  this  very  reason  it  seemed  the  more  remarkable  that  this  writing 
which  to  him  stood  out  as  a  landmark  among  many  others  should  apparently 
have  received  only  a  slight  consideration  from  the  public.  Greatly  to  his 
regret  he  learned  that  the  author  has  never  finished  many  of  his  Spinoza  stud- 
ies to  which  he  refers  in  his  one  publication,  and  so  they  have  never  become 
accessible  to  the  public.  If  he  had  completed  his  work  on  the  lines  in  which 
he  began,  Dr.  Wenzel  would  have  considered  a  comprehensive  work  by  himself 
as  superfluous,  but  it  is  just  because  of  this  lack  that  he  has  undertaken  the 
work,  of  which  the  first  volume  lies  before  us. 

A  comprehensive  work  on  the  world-conception  of  Spinoza  which  does 
not  start  out  with  his  substance  and  attribute  theories,  is  indeed  a  rarity  in 
Spinoza  literature,  but  Dr.  Wenzel  accounts  for  this  omission  by  referring  the 
reader  who  wishes  to  confine  his  interest  to  these  subjects,  to  the  above- 
mentioned  book  of  Friedrichs,  which  practically  gives  the  author's  own  views. 
His  reference  to  these  important  phases  of  Spinoza's  philosophy  he  has  pre- 
ferred to  give  in  close  connection  with  his  exposition  of  Spinoza's  epistemol- 
ogy  and  ontology,  so  that  the  important  subject  of  Spinoza's  God-conception 
might  be  the  central  point  of  the  entire  study  around  which  the  other  theories 
group  themselves  in  their  proper  relations. 

After  an  introduction  dealing  with  Spinoza's  historical  position  and  sig- 
nificance for  the  philosophy  of  to-day,  Dr.  Wenzel  treats  in  Part  II  of  Spi- 
noza's conception  of  God  and  human  knowledge;  while  Part  III  discusses 
his  God-conception  with  relation  to  the  nature  of  things.  In  his  effort  to 
give  a  name  to  the  philosophy  of  Spinoza,  Dr.  Wenzel  would  call  it  a  "natural- 
istic, panlogistic  pantheism."  He  says:  "Spinoza's  system  is  pantheistic,  be- 
cause God,  that  is  to  say  the  world-ground  or  substance,  must  be  thought  of 
as  immanent  in  the  world  of  experience.  It  is  naturalistic  because  this  world 
of  experience  is  enacted  in  individual  instances  in  the  form  of  a  mechanical 
causality  of  nature,  which  is  just  as  determinative  for  immaterial  as  for 
material  events.  It  must  be  called  panlogistic  in  so  far  as  the  whole  world 
of  experience  must  be  considered  with  relation  to  its  connection  with  and  its 
unity  in  God,  as  the  expression  of  an  eternal  power  and  law  of  intelligence 
which  is  identical  with  the  absolute  activity  of  God."  There  is  no  indication 
in  this  first  volume  as  to  what  the  second  will  contain. 


ASPECTS  OF  KINETIC  EVOLUTION.  By  O.  F.  Cook.  In  Proceedings  of  the 
Washington  Academy  of  Sciences.  Vol.  VIII,  pp.  197-403.  Washing- 
ton, 1907. 

O.  F.  Cook,  of  the  Agricultural  Department  of  Washington,  publishes 
in  the  Proceedings  of  the  Washington  Academy  of  Sciences,  an  essay  entitled 
"Aspects  of  Kinetic  Evolution,"  in  which  he  proposes  some  new  views  on  the 
evolution  theory.  He  presents  some  new  aspects  along  the  lines  of  modern 
research  which  are  to  some  extent  akin  to  the  investigations  of  Professor  de 
Vries  and  other  naturalists.  The  opening  sentences  of  his  first  chapter  char- 
acterize his  idea  of  the  kinetic  theory  as  follows : 

"The  kinetic  theory  of  evolution  finds  in  the  facts  of  organic  development 
indications  that  the  characters  of  species  change  spontaneously,  or  without  en- 


THE  MONIST. 

vironmental  causation.  Evolutionary  progress  is  further  conceived  as  accom- 
plished through  the  union  of  the  normally  diverse  individual  members  of  spe- 
cies into  a  coherent  network  of  interbreeding  lines  of  descent,  rather  than  by 
the  isolation  of  variant  individuals  or  by  the  selective  restriction  of  descent 
of  individuals  possessing  particular  characters. 

"Former  theories  have  undertaken  to  explain  the  method  of  evolution  by 
reference  to  the  dendritic  figure  of  descent  as  shown  in  the  ever-branching 
relationships  of  species,  genera  and  families.  The  kinetic  interpretation  of  the 
evolutionary  process  is  based  on  what  may  be  called  the  intraspecific  figure  of 
descent,  the  relationship  of  organisms  inside  the  species,  which  is  reticular 
or  net-like,  and  not  tree-like. 

"Theories  based  on  the  dendritic  conception  of  descent  may  also  be  de- 
scribed as  differential ;  that  is,  they  have  given  attention  chiefly  to  the  prob- 
lems of  distinction  and  separation  of  organic  groups.  The  kinetic  theory  is 
integral  or  synthetic,  and  conceives  the  evolutionary  process  as  conducted  by 
the  accumulation  and  combination  of  the  variations  which  appear  among  the 
members  of  the  species. 

"The  simple  distinctions  are  fundamental,  and  will  necessitate  an  exten- 
sive readjustment  of  methods  of  thought  and  investigation  in  the  field  of  evo- 
lution." 


LA  PHILOSOPHIE  SOCIALE  DE  RENouviER.     Par  Roger  Picard.     Paris:  Marcel 

Riviere,  1908.     Pp.  330.     Price  7  f r.  50. 

In  this  book  the  author  undertakes  to  present  very  objectively  the  many 
original  theories  comprehended  in  the  entire  domain  of  law  and  sociology 
and  which  in  the  system  of  Renouvier  are  closely  connected  with  purely 
philosophical  questions.  It  is  his  intention  to  show  the  bond  which  unites 
Renouvier's  philosophical  thought  with  his  political  and  social  thought,  and  he 
makes  clear  how  that  philosopher  has  been  able  to  give  in  a  quite  original 
method  exact  solutions  to  problems  which  arise  from  social  life.  It  is  par- 
ticularly interesting  to  follow  the  author  in  his  exposition  of  the  political  doc- 
trine of  the  philosopher,  who  after  having  analyzed  the  ideas  of  state  and 
democracy  deduces  therefrom  the  duties  which  devolve  upon  a  Republican 
nation.  Purely  social  questions  such  as  property,  salary,  capital,  and  labor- 
organizations,  are  investigated  and  are  solved  by  the  application  of  ethical 
rules,  to  the  exposition  of  which  the  first  part  of  the  volume  is  devoted.  This 
work  is  a  faithful  picture  of  a  system  perhaps  too  little  known.  This  it  will 
make  accessible  to  many  who  can  not  read  the  enormous  work  of  Renouvier. 


ROSMINI.      Par   F.   Palliories.     Paris :    Felix   Alcan,    1908.      Pp.   387.      Price, 

7  fr.  50. 

One  of  the  latest  of  Alcan's  series  of  great  philosophers  is  this  study  of 
Rosmini.  In  this  one  volume  is  condensed  the  voluminous  works  of  the  cele- 
brated Italian,  divided  in  the  same  divisions  which  he  himself  has  made, — 
ideality,  reality  and  morality.  With  regard  to  Rosmini's  most  characteristic 
theories,  M.  Palhories  takes  a  careful  and  judicious  position.  In  conclusion 
he  sums  up  the  sources  of  Rosmini's  philosophy,  showing  its  relation  to 
Plato,  Leibnitz,  Malebranche,  Kant  and  Hegel. 


BOOK  REVIEWS  AND  NOTES.  317 

RUDOLF  EUCKEN'S  PHILOSOPHY  OF  LIFE.     By  W.  R.  Boyce  Gibson.    London: 

Adam  and  Charles  Black,  1907.  Pp.  182.  Price,  $1.40  net. 
Professor  Eucken  takes  a  prominent  place  among  philosophers  of  to-day, 
and  Mr.  W.  R.  Boyce  Gibson  has  taken  upon  himself  the  task  of  condensing 
Eucken's  philosophy  of  life  into  a  comparatively  small  volume.  In  the  several 
chapters  which  were  originally  delivered  as  lectures  at  Westfield  College, 
University  of  London,  in  1905,  he  reviews  the  essential  doctrines  of  philosophy 
as  presented  in  Eucken's  successive  books,  and  though  a  great  admirer  of 
the  philosopher,  he  criticises  his  views  in  the  last  chapter.  Eucken's  philos- 
ophy insists  mainly  upon  the  spirituality  of  the  world,  and  in  doing  so  he 
criticises  materialism  as  it  is  represented,  for  instance,  by  his  famous  colleague, 
Prof.  Ernst  Haeckel. 


WIRTHSCHAFTLICHE  GRUNDLAGEN  DER  MORAL.    Von  Franz  Staudinger.    Darm- 
stadt: Roether,  1907.     Pp.  160. 

Franz  Staudinger,  of  Darmstadt,  explains  in  this  volume  his  ideas  of 
morality  as  based  upon  social  and  economical  conditions.  He  condemns  the 
principles  of  lord-morality  as  preached  by  Nietzsche  and  acted  upon  by  the 
ruling  classes,  recommending  in  its  place  the  socialist  morality  as  the  higher 
ideal.  He  points  out  that  the  actualization  of  this  aim  will  finally  prove  to  be 
a  question  of  power  which  has  to  be  decided  by  a  struggle  between  the  classes, 
but  he  grants  that  ideals  must  always  remain  ideals,  and  we  doubt  whether 
the  new  order  of  society  which  he  foresees  will  be  an  improvement  upon  our 
present  conditions. 


L'INDIVIDUALISMO  NELLE  DOTTRINE  MORALI  DEL  SECOLO  xix.  Dal  Giovanni  Vidari. 

Milan:  Ulrico  Hoepli,  1909.     Pp.  400.     Price,  6.50  1. 

This  essay  received  the  successful  award  in  the  competition  held  before 
the  Royal  Academy  of  Moral  and  Political  Science  at  Naples  in  1906,  though 
its  publication  has  been  delayed  in  order  to  give  opportunity  for  continued 
study  and  because  of  various  personal  contingencies.  In  his  discussion  of 
"Individualism  in  the  Ethical  Teachings  of  the  I9th  Century"  the  author  treats 
in  his  introduction  of  the  relation  between  individualistic  and  anti-individual- 
istic theories,  and  gives  some  introductory  definitions  with  regard  to  the  con- 
ception of  individualism  and  its  theories.  The  first  chapter  dealing  with  indi- 
vidualism of  rationalistic  theories  discusses  in  detail  the  Catholic  anti-individ- 
ualistic movement,  and  then  the  individualism  of  Maine  de  Biran,  Benjamin 
Constant,  Victor  Cousin,  Guizot,  Proudhon,  Renouvier,  Amiel,  Renan  and 
others.  In  the  second  chapter  on  individualism  of  empiricism,  Paine,  Godwin, 
Bentham,  John  Stuart  Mill,  Spencer,  and  Haeckel  are  enumerated  and  their 
relation  to  individualism  is  discussed.  The  third  chapter  deals  with  the  indi- 
vidualism of  the  instinctive  theory  as  represented  by  Schiller,  Novalis,  Cole- 
ridge, Carlyle,  Emerson,  Ibsen,  Nietzsche,  Kropotkin,  Tolstoy  and  others. 
The  fourth  chapter  considers  the  general  validity  of  these  theories. 


The  Hibbert  Journal  of  July    (Vol.  VI,  Number  4),   1908,  contains  an 
article  on  "Pluralism  and  Religion"  by  Prof.   William  James,  in  which  he 


318  THE  MONIST. 

continues  to  preach  his  peculiar  kind  of  pragmatism  which  he  serves  by  re- 
jecting the  "authority  of  intellectualist  logic."  By  renouncing  this  logic  he 
rids  himself  of  "the  intellectual  difficulty,"  but  of  course  surrenders  at  the 
same  time  the  only  method  of  systematically  arranging  the  data  of  experience, 
and  so  falls  into  the  bottomless  pit  of  pluralism.  He  says : 

"We  may  be  in  the  universe  as  dogs  and  cats  are  in  our  libraries,  seeing 
the  books  and  hearing  the  conversation,  but  having  no  inkling  that  there  is 
any  meaning  in  it  all.  The  intellectualist  difficulties  fall  away  when  the  author- 
ity of  intellectualist  logic  is  undermined  by  criticism,  and  then  the  positive 
empirical  evidence  remains.  The  analogies  with  ordinary  psychology,  with 
certain  facts  of  pathology,  with  those  of  psychical  research,  so  called,  and  with 
those  of  religious  experience,  establish,  when  taken  together,  a  decidedly 
formidable  probability  in  favor  of  a  general  view  of  the  world  almost  identical 
with  Fechner's.  The  outlines  of  the  superhuman  consciousness  thus  made 
probable  must  remain,  however,  very  vague,  and  the  number  of  functionally 
distinct  "selves"  it  comports  and  carries  has  to  be  left  entirely  problematic. 
It  may  be  polytheistically,  or  it  may  be  monotheistically  conceived  of.  Fech- 
ner,  with  his  distinct  earth-soul  functioning  as  our  guardian  angel,  seems  to 
me  clearly  polytheistic ;  but  the  word  polytheism  usually  gives  offence,  so  per- 
haps it  is  better  not  to  use  it.  Only  one  thing  is  certain,  and  that  is  the  result 
of  recent  criticism  of  the  absolute :  the  only  way  to  escape  from  the  paradoxes 
and  perplexities  that  a  consistently  thought-out  monistic  universe  suffers  from 
as  from  a  species  of  auto-intoxication  (the  mystery  of  the  "fall"  namely,  of 
reality  lapsing  into  appearance,  truth  into  error,  perfection  into  imperfection — 
of  evil,  in  short ;  the  mystery  of  universal  determinism,  of  the  block-universe, 
eternal  and  without  a  history)  :  the  only  way  of  escape,  I  say,  from  all  this  is 
to  be  frankly  pluralistic  and  assume  that  the  superhuman  consciousness,  how- 
ever vast  it  may  be,  has  itself  an  external  environment,  and  consequently  is 
finite.  Present-day  monism  carefully  repudiates  complicity  with  Spinozistic 
monism.  In  that,  it  explains,  the  many  get  dissolved  in  the  One  and  lost, 
whereas  in  the  improved  idealistic  form  they  get  preserved  in  all  their  many- 
ness  as  the  One's  eternal  object.  The  absolute  itself  is  thus  represented  as 
having  a  pluralistic  object.  But  if  the  very  absolute  itself  would  have  to  be 
a  pluralist  if  it  existed,  why  should  we  hesitate  to  be  pluralists  out  and  out? 
Why  not  straightway  adopt  the  absolute's  form  of  vision  on  our  own  account, 
and  refuse  to  envelop  our  many  in  the  One  that  brings  the  poison  in  its  train? 

Professor  James's  view  of  monism  must  be  very  very  strange,  and  I  sus- 
pect that  he  does  not  understand  that  systematic  method  and  clearness  of 
thought  do  not  involve  a  rigid  unity  nor  do  they  abolish  the  multiplicity  of 
phenomena  and  the  concrete  world  of  facts.  It  is  difficult  to  say  how  the  world 
is  mirrored  in  his  head,  but  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  he  will  fall  a  prey  to 
mysticism.  Like  so  many  other  reformers  who  find  difficulty  in  the  problems 
of  modern  thought  and  civilization,  he  unconsciously  follows  the  motto,  "Back 
to  the  days  of  savagery,"  and  the  ingenious  way  in  which  he  upholds  his  case 
elicits  our  admiration.  We  are  rather  astonished,  however,  to  observe  the 
enormous  success  of  his  philosophy  among  professional  or  so-called  profes- 
sional thinkers,  which  indicates  that  the  majority  of  them  are  still  in  a  state 
of  naive  immaturity. 


BOOK  REVIEWS  AND  NOTES.  319 

The  Philosophical  Review  contains  an  article  by  Prof.  John  Grier  Hibben, 
of  Princeton  University,  entitled  "The  Test  of  Pragmatism,"  which  deals  crit- 
ically with  the  subject.  Professor  Hibben  concludes  his  article  as  follows: 

"We  may  regard  ourselves  as  artists  in  the  composition  of  the  truth,  but 
hardly  as  creators. 

"As  to  this  constant  factor,  which  appears  in  every  problem  confronting 
our  thought,  Professor  James  thinks  that  it  is  one  that  is  being  gradually 
formed  by  us.  As  to  the  unity  which  seems  to  underlie  the  world  of  our  ex- 
perience, he  insists  that  it  is  only  a  possible  empirical  unification,  the  terminus 
ad  quern  of  our  constructive  thinking.  The  world,  however,  is  not  merely 
approaching  unification, — that  'far  off  human  event,  towards  which  the  whole 
creation  moves.'  Too  many  elements  are  combining,  too  many  lines  are  con- 
verging towards  the  same  point,  for  us  not  to  think  that  there  is  something 
behind  as  well  as  before  this  onward  movement.  There  must  be  a  unitary 
ground,  if  there  is  to  be  a  unified  goal.  And  there  is  much  to  be  said  in  de- 
fense of  the  old  scholastic  formula,  that  what  is  last  in  execution  must  be 
first  in  conception.  This  may  describe  the  programme  according  to  which  the 
history  of  the  world  as  a  whole  has  unfolded,  as  well  as  the  manner  in  which 
the  individual  orders  his  single  life.  We  are  not  in  a  'closed  and  finished  uni- 
verse/ it  is  true;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  we  are  not  in  a  universe  which  is 
solely  of  our  own  making.  We  are  in  a  universe  which,  while  in  the  making, 
is  nevertheless  unfolding  according  to  the  laws  and  trend  of  its  own  potential- 
ities. And  if  we  believe  that  certain  ends  will  be  realized  ultimately,  and  the 
complete  unification  of  the  whole  finally  disclosed,  may  not  the  consummate 
reality  have  been  from  the  beginning,  even  though  in  a  potenial  form?  And 
so  far  as  the  universe  is  fashioned  by  human  touch,  is  it  not  our  primary  task 
to  understand  the  truth  of  things  as  they  are,  so  that  we  may  the  better 
realize  the  truth  of  things  as  they  ought  to  be?" 


Hermann  Strack  has  published  a  new  and  thoroughly  revised  edition 
(the  fourth)  of  his  "Introduction  to  the  Talmud"  (Einleitung  in  den  Talmud, 
Leipsic,  Hinrichs,  1908).  He  has  neither  the  intention  to  criticize  nor  to  write 
an  apologetic  treatise,  but  wishes  to  serve  the  truth.  He  only  denounces 
vigorously  the  idea  that  the  Talmud  contains  passages  which  are  not  accessible 
to  Christians  possessed  of  the  necessary  information. 

The  book  contains  an  exposition  of  the  history  of  the  Talmud,  its  parts 
and  treatises,  an  alphabetical  index  of  its  contents,  the  Palestinian  and  the 
Babylonian  Talmud,  the  Extra-Canonical  Treatises  and  Chronological  Lists 
of  its  authors  and  description  of  the  character  of  the  Talmud,  and  finally 
samples  of  the  text  in  German  translation.  The  book  will  prove  useful  to  all 
interested  in  Talmudic  lore  and  is  published  by  Hinrichs  as  the  second  instal- 
ment of  the  publications  of  the  Institutum  Judaicum  in  Berlin. 


American  theologians  who  may  have  met  Prof.  Carl  Clemen  of  the  Uni- 
versity of  Bonn,  will  be  interested  to  know  of  the  appearance  of  a  book  from 
his  hand,  containing  300  pages,  and  bearing  the  title  Religions  geschichtliche 
Erkl'drung  des  Neuen  Testaments,  published  by  Alfred  Topelmann  (formerly 


32O  THE  MONIST. 

J.  Ricker)  Giessen,  1909  (Price,  10  m.).  It  treats  the  problem  of  the  depend- 
ence of  primitive  Christianity  upon  non-Jewish  religions  and  philosophical 
systems.  The  first  "general"  part  treats  of  Christianity  as  a  whole  and  then 
of  special  doctrines,  viz.,  the  doctrine  of  God  and  intermediate  spiritual  be- 
ings, of  the  end  of  the  world  and  of  life  after  death,  of  the  ideas  of  justice 
and  sin,  all  of  which  is  already  contained  in  Judaism.  Then  he  treats  of  the 
new  views,  the  personality  of  Christ  and  the  trinitarian  formulae,  ritual  wor- 
ship and  the  Church  institutions  of  baptism  and  the  sacrament. 

The  second  "particular"  part  treats  of  the  life  and  doctrine  of  Jesus,  the 
story  of  his  infancy,  his  baptism  and  temptation,  his  ministry,  his  passion  and 
resurrection. 

Further  he  treats  of  the  Pauline  theory,  and  finally  the  Johannine  lit- 
erature. 


It  is  a  symptom  of  the  times  that  a  number  of  enterprising  publishing 
houses  are  coming  to  the  front  simultaneously  with  dictionaries  of  the  Bible. 
Some  time  ago  the  field  was  monopolized  by  the  ponderous  encyclopedia  of 
Herzog,  which  existed  for  a  long  time  only  in  its  German  original,  while  in 
England  the  Bible  Dictionary  of  Smith  was  current  in  three  editions :  a  large 
one  for  theologians,  a  medium-sized  one  for  students  and  clergymen,  and  a 
small  one  for  Sunday-school  teachers  and  young  people  in  general.  Afterwards 
two  other  English  works  came  to  compete  with  Smith,  the  Encyclopedia  Bib- 
lica  in  four  volumes,  and  the  so-called  Hastings  Dictionary  of  the  Bible,  of 
which  the  former  was  suspected  in  orthodox  circles  as  heretical.  Within  the 
last  year  three  new  publications  have  appeared  on  the  basis  of  the  old  ones 
and  make  the  enormous  material  of  Biblical  knowledge  accessible  to  the  gen- 
eral public.  We  announced  the  first  volume  of  the  New  Schaff-Herzog  En- 
cyclopedia of  Religious  Knowledge  in  the  October  number  of  The  Monist, 
and  will  add  that  at  present  the  second  volume  lies  before  us  in  style  and 
scholarship  the  equal  of  its  predecessor.  We  have  announced  in  the  March 
Open  Court  the  Standard  Bible  Dictionary,  edited  by  Jacobus,  Nourse  and 
Zenos,  a  work  mainly  of  American  scholarship ;  and  now  there  lies  before  us 
the  one-volumed  Dictionary  of  the  Bible,  edited  by  James  Hastings,  D.D.,  with 
the  collaboration  of  John  A.  Selby,  John  C.  Lambert  and  Shailer  Mathews. 
In  this  work  the  influence  of  English  scholarship  prevails,  and  it  may  be  re- 
garded as  the  expression  of  a  scientifically  trained,  but  at  the  same  time  con- 
servative, theology  represented  by  its  editor-in-chief,  James  Hastings,  who  is 
the  editor  of  the  Expository  Times. 

The  entire  volume  comprises  almost  a  thousand  pages  and  it  has  been 
the  editors'  intention  to  offer  their  readers  the  whole  material  as  complete  as 
possible  in  a  most  condensed  form.  This  work  contains  approximately  the 
same  number  of  pages  as  The  Standard,  but  by  using  a  smaller  type  and  no 
illustrations,  it  is  able  to  compress  more  material  in  the  same  space,  and  care 
is  taken  that  the  great  subjects  should  not  be  treated  with  that  excessive 
brevity  which  so  often  makes  single-volumed  works  of  reference  so  dis- 
appointing; e.  g.,  24  pages  have  been  allotted  to  the  subject  of  "Israel."  As 
the  scope  of  the  work  is  simply  popular,  Hebrew  and  Greek  words  are  used 
only  in  transcription.  All  articles  are  signed  by  the  full  name  of  the  author. 


VOL.  XIX.  JULY,  1909.  No.  3, 


THE  MONIST 


THE  NATURE  OF  VITAL  PROCESSES  ACCORD- 
ING TO  RIGNANO. 

EUGENIC  RIGNANO  of  Milan,  Italy,  engineer  and 
student  of  philosophy,  has  recently  published  a  book 
treating  in  an  original  and  suggestive  way  the  fundamen- 
tal problems  of  biology.1  In  it  are  introduced  some  new 
conceptions  which  seem  to  point  the  way  to  the  solution 
of  many  important  questions,  and~which  are  intensely  inter- 
esting at  just  the  present  stage  of  biological  science.  The 
extensive  reference  made  to  them  by  Prof.  Francis  Dar- 
win in  his  presidential  address  delivered  before  the  British 
Association  for  the  Advancement  of  Science  at  their  Dub- 
lin meeting  last  August,  illustrates  the  growing  apprecia- 
tion among  English-speaking  scientists  of  the  significance 
and  value  of  Rignano's  work.  In  this  paper  an  attempt  is 
made  to  present  in  English  his  fundamental  hypothesis 
and  some  of  its  most  interesting  consequences  and  appli- 
cations. 

He  has  approached  these  problems  in  a  somewhat  dif- 
ferent way  from  that  of  most  authors  who  have  written 
upon  them.  He  was  not  primarily  a  biologist  but  a  physi- 
cist. All  his  work  shows  evidence  that  he  was  a  master 
of  physical  chemistry,  and  that  he  takes  the  keenest  inter- 
est in  scientific  philosophy  in  general.  He  was  led  to  the 

1  Eugenic  Rignano,  Ueber  die  Vererbung  erworbener  Eigenschaften.  Leip- 
sic:  Engelmann,  1907. 


322  THE  MONIST. 

study  of  biological  problems  by  their  vital  relation  to  the 
results  of  other  sciences  and  by  their  intrinsic  interest  from 
the  standpoint  of  positive  philosophy.  Along  these  lines 
he  has  been  an  earnest  worker,  having  contributed  many 
thoughtful  and  scholarly  articles  to  the  Revista  di  Scienza 
and  to  other  periodicals  of  a  similar  character. 

Being  attracted  in  this  way  to  a  consideration  of  biology, 
he  devoted  himself  to  a  study  of  the  facts  presented  by  in- 
vestigators and  especially  of  the  general  conceptions  de- 
veloped from  them  by  leading  naturalists  from  Lamarck 
to  the  present  time,  a  study,  as  his  book  clearly  shows,  of 
a  most  appreciative  and  discriminative  kind.  He  found 
the  general  conceptions  not  wholly  satisfactory  and,  some- 
times, even  contradictory  of  one  another,  and  realizing 
that  facts  cannot  be  contradictory  or  misleading,  he  sought 
to  see  for  himself  the  underlying  basic  principles  which 
should  explain  and  unify  the  facts,  and  at  the  same  time 
perhaps  indicate  an  outlet  from  the  blind  alley  in  which 
some  biological  inquiries  at  present  find  themselves  stalled. 
In  relation  to  the  fundamental  biological  problem,  that  of 
the  essential  nature  of  the  vital  process  itself,  he  found 
that  "biologists  are  inclined  to  fall  into  two  opposite  ex- 
tremes." He  continues  (pp.  359-361) : 

"Some  deny  flatly  the  possibility  of  ever  arriving  at  a 
comprehension  of  the  nature  of  life.  But  if  we  ask  our- 
selves in  what  this  comprehension  of  the  nature  of  life 
could  consist,  from  the  point  of  view  of  positive  philos- 
ophy, we  have  no  difficulty  in  recognizing  that  everything 
must  be  reduced  to  comparing  vital  phenomena  with  some 
physico-chemical  model  already  known,  suitably  modified 
by  the  particular  special  conditions  imposed  upon  it  so  that 
just  these  special  conditions  shall  determine  the  differences 
which  exist  between  this  vital  phenomenon  and  that  phe- 
nomenon of  the  inorganic  world  closest  related  to  it.  If 
this  be  so  it  is  then  the  duty  of  science  emphatically  to 


VITAL  PROCESSES  ACCORDING  TO  RIGNANO.  323 

reject  such  a  denial  of  scientific  thought  as  would  be  con- 
stituted by  the  renunciation  of  this  conception.  Whether 
one  clearly  recognizes  it  or  not,  it  is  just  this  search  for  the 
nature  of  the  vital  principle  which  properly  constitutes  the 
principal  object  and  the  final  goal  of  all  biologic  study  in 
general. 

"Others,  again,  are  not  willing  to  accord  to  life  even 
the  slightest  property  which  should  not  be  simply  physico- 
chemical  in  nature.  Among  all  these,  it  is  enough  to  cite 
the  example  of  Verworn  who  not  only  relegates  assimi- 
lation to  the  category  of  purely  chemical  phenomena,  by 
means  of  his  biogenic  hypothesis,  but  who  would  explain 
protoplasmic  currents,  the  protusion  of  pseudopodia,  the 
movements  of  cilia,  and  in  general  all  movements  of  living 
beings  by  a  double  and  alternative  chemotropism  of  proto- 
plasmic substance  rather  than  by  currents  of  nervous  en- 
ergy. Protoplasmic  substance  in  fact  according  as  it  re- 
mains unstimulated  or  is  stimulated,  that  is,  partially  de- 
composed by  the  stimulus  which  would  agitate  it  mechan- 
ically, would  possess  a  chemical  affinity  for  the  oxygen  of 
the  environment  or  for  the  substances  produced  by  the 
nucleus  capable  of  rebuilding  the  partially  decomposed 
protoplasmic  substance.  And  to  this  alternation  of  differ- 
ent affinities,  the  opposite  protoplasmic  movements  of  ex- 
pansion and  contraction  would  correspond.2 

"Now  it  is  evident  that  this  endeavor  not  to  attribute 
to  vital  energy  any  specific  nature  of  its  own,  and  con- 
sequently to  explain  even  the  most  characteristic  phenom- 
ena of  life  by  means  of  only  those  energies  which  physics 
and  chemistry  afford  us  to-day,  can  have  no  more  success 
than  as  if  one  should  attempt  to  explain  chemical  phenom- 
ena by  means  of  physical  phenomena  only.  And  this  en- 
deavor is  also  quite  unjustified.  For  the  conception  that 

8Verw9rn,  Die  Biogenhypothese.  Jena:  Fischer,  1903;  and  Die  Bewegung 
der  lebendigen  Substanz,  especially  pp.  100-103. 


324  THE   MONIST. 

the  form  of  energy  on  which  vital  phenomena  are  based 
is  different  from  all  forms  of  energy  which  have  hitherto 
been  observed  in  non-living  bodies,  has  absolutely  nothing 
unscientific  in  it,  any  more  than  the  conception,  for  exam- 
ple, that  electricity  may  also  be  a  form  of  energy  different 
from  all  others. 

"Vital  energy,  nervous  energy,  we  admit  at  once,  will 
certainly  be  a  particular  case  of  the  more  general  physico- 
chemical  forms  of  energy  already  known  or  yet  to  be 
known,  and  as  such  it  must  necessarily  be  subject  to  the 
laws  which  control  these  latter ;  and  also,  a  fortiori,  to  the 
laws  which  control  all  energy  in  general.  But  even  as 
such,  that  is  as  a  particular  case  of  more  general,  physico- 
chemical  forms  of  energy,  it  will  have  besides  further  spe- 
cial laws  of  its  own  which  are  only  experimentally  to  be 
determined  and  cannot  simply  be  deduced  from  the  more 
general  laws  even  though  it  must  always  be  subjected  to 
them.  And  it  is  just  these  laws  of  its  own  which,  out  of 
a  physico-chemical  energy,  make  it  vital  energy.  This 
conception  has  led  us  to  attribute  to  nervous  energy,  set 
forth  as  the  basis  of  life,  special  properties,  which  electric 
energy,  in  certain  respects  related  to  it,  does  not  possess/' 

In  accordance  with  this  conception  of  the  nature  of 
vital  energy  Rignano  developed  a  hypothesis  of  the  funda- 
mental vital  processes  which  characterize  all  living  matter. 
His  theory  is  based  upon  well-known  physical  phenomena 
of  electric  energy ;  and  by  the  hypothesis  of  certain  specific 
qualities  which  this  form  of  energy  might  be  supposed  to 
possess  in  the  conditions  existing  in  living  matter,  he  has 
endeavored  to  account  for  the  essential  and  distinctive 
properties  of  living  matter.  But  such  a  conception,  if  it 
be  true,  must  constitute  not  only  a  direct  explanation  of 
the  fundamental  properties  which  living  matter  always 
presents,  namely  assimilation,  growth,  and  reproduction; 
it  must  also  explain  to  some  extent  all  the  forms  of  activity 


VITAL  PROCESSES  ACCORDING  TO  RIGNANO.  325 

which  vital  energy  ever  manifests  in  biological  processes, 
—polarity,  rhythm,  periodicity,  mitotic  division,  fecun- 
dation, ontogeny  with  its  recapitulation  of  phylogeny, 
atavism,  heredity,  memory,  etc., — the  fundamental  char- 
acter of  the  vital  process  must  be  inherent  in  all  these 
developments  of  it;  a  clear  conception  of  their  common 
basis  must  help  us  greatly  to  understand  all  of  them,  and 
must  also  tend  to  unify  them,  explaining  their  curious 
likeness  to  one  another,  as  for  instance  the  likeness  of  on- 
togeny and  memory,  so  often  observed,  but  so  difficult  to 
grasp  and  understand. 

As  one  reads  Rignano's  book,  and  follows  him  in  the 
consideration  of  one  after  another  of  these  vital  phenom- 
ena, and  notes  how  harmoniously  they  accord  with  the 
hypothesis  he  suggests,  the  impression  becomes  steadily 
stronger  that  this  is  the  line  along  which  the  final  solution 
of  the  problem  must  be  sought.  Rignano  does  not  claim 
that  his  suggestion  furnishes  the  final  solution,  but  submits 
it  provisionally  in  the  hope  that  it  may  serve  to  point 
the  way  to  an  ultimate  complete  understanding.  He  says 

(P-  387) : 

"We  do  not  venture  to  offer  this  as  a  true  and  proper 
hypothesis.  The  phenomenon  of  life  is  still  too  little  estab- 
lished for  so  bold  a  venture.  We  consider  it  only  as  a 
provisional  scheme  of  the  vital  process  which  may  serve 
as  an  initial  concrete  basis  for  further  investigation  into 
the  nature  of  life.  For  in  affording  any  firm  provisional 
basis  upon  which  the  discussion  of  a  question  still  entirely 
without  solution  can  be  supported,  one  attains  always  the 
great  result  of  determining  definitely  the  conditions  of  the 
question,  of  demonstrating  clearly  the  untenability  of  cer- 
tain views,  which  was  not  possible  formerly  while  the 
question  had  yet  too  indefinite  a  form,  and  of  bringing  us 
in  this  way  slowly  but  certainly  nearer  to  a  correct  under- 
standing of  the  phenomenon,  in  proportion  as  after  dis- 


326  THE  MONIST. 

carding  the  untenable  propositions,  the  tenable  stand  out 
ever  more  clearly  and  convincingly  and  thereby  are  given 
firmer  foundation/' 

In  his  book  the  author  develops  his  hypothesis  in  an 
inductive  way — proceeding  from  a  consideration  of  on- 
togeny, but  in  this  necessarily  briefer  review,  it  has  seemed 
better  not  to  follow  the  lengthy  inductive  method,  but  to 
state  the  theory  at  once  in  connection  with  one  of  the  phe- 
nomena which  it  helps  to  explain.  It  might  be  presented 
in  connection  with  any  of  the  vital  phenomena,  since  the 
fundamental  process  may  be  seen  in  all  those  built  up  upon 
it.  A  consideration  of  memory  may  serve  as  a  good  way 
of  approach. 

EXPLANATION  OF  MEMORY. 

Explanations  of  this  familiar  but  marvelous  faculty 
have  not  been  very  clear  or  complete,  but  those  who  have 
developed  any  conception  of  its  mechanism  have  been  in- 
clined to  attribute  it  to  some  change  in  the  material  sub- 
stance of  the  brain  cells,  produced  by  nervous  currents 
passing  to  them. 

Thus  Hering  states  as  quoted  by  Rignano  (pp.  344- 
345) :  "We  see  how  an  entire  group  of  experiences  becomes 
reproduced  in  proper  order  of  space  and  time,  and  with 
such  vividness  that  it  might  deceive  us  as  to  the  reality  of 
what  long  since  ceased  to  be  present.  This  shows  us,  in  a 
most  striking  way,  that  even  after  the  sensation  and  per- 
ception in  question  has  long  since  disappeared,  there  re- 
mains still  in  our  nervous  system  a  material  trace,  an 
alteration  of  the  molecular  or  atomic  connections  by  which 
the  nervous  substance  is  rendered  capable  of  reproducing 
these  physical  processes  by  which  the  corresponding  psy- 
chic process  of  sensation  and  perception  is  determined 

The  representations  do  not  last  as  representations  but  what 
does  persist  is  that  particular  attunement  of  the  nervous 


VITAL  PROCESSES  ACCORDING  TO  RIGNANO.  327 

substance,  in  virtue  of  which,  when  it  is  properly  struck,  it 
sounds  again  to-day  the  same  note  which  it  gave  forth 
yesterday."3 

"When  we  speak/'  writes  Maudsley,  "of  a  trace,  ves- 
tige or  residuum  all  we  mean  to  imply  is  that  an  effect  is 
left  behind  in  the  organic  element,  a  something  retained 
by  it  which  disposes  it  to  a  similar  functional  act;  a  dis- 
position has  been  acquired  which  differentiates  it  hence- 
forth, although  we  have  no  reason  to  think  that  there  was 
any  original  specific  difference  between  one  nerve  cell  and 
another."4 

These  conceptions  constitute  at  best  only  an  inadequate 
because  indefinite  explanation  of  the  real  problem  of  mem- 
ory. The  essential  characters  of  this  faculty  are  thus 
stated  by  Ribot.  "Of  the  three  elements  of  memory:  the 
preservation  of  certain  states,  reproduction,  localization 
in  the  past,  the  first  two  alone  are  necessary  and  character- 
istic." A  true  explanation  must- show  definitely  how  these 
states  are  preserved,  and  how  they  are  repeated.  Rignano 
agrees  with  these  conceptions  in  the  belief  that  our  specific 
sensations  and  perceptions  are  due  to  the  passage  through 
the  nervous  system  of  specific  nervous  currents,  called 
forth  by  specific  stimuli  in  the  environment,  and  that  the 
repetition  of  these  specific  sensations  in  memory  depends 
upon  specific  changes  induced  in  the  nerve  cells.  But  he 
goes  farther,  stating  in  his  hypothesis  (p.  344)  what  these 
specific  changes  in  the  nerve  cells  are. 

"This  something  which  leaves  an  impression  after  it  in 
the  nerve  cell  and  which  disposes  it  to  other  similar  func- 
tional acts  will  be  to  our  mind,  a  real  and  specific  material 
residue  of  substance  capable  of  reproducing  the  same  func- 

*  Ewald  Hering,  Ueber  das  Ged'dchtnis  als  eine  allgemeine  Funktion  der 
organisierten  Materie.     Vienna:  Gerold,  1876,  pp.  8,  9.     English  translation 
published  by  Open  Court  Pub.  Co.,  pp.  7  and  9. 

*  Henry  Maudsley,  The  Physiology  of  Mind,  third  edition,  London,  Mac- 
millan,  1876,  p.  270.    Quoted  by  Rignano  pp.  343-344- 


THE  MONIST. 

tional  current  as  that  by  which  it  had  itself  been  deposited." 
These  specific  substances  so  deposited  he  calls  specific  mne- 
monic elements. 

"In  just  this  quality  of  being  able  to  restore  again  the 
same  specificity  of  nervous  current  as  that  by  which  each 
element  had  been  deposited  one  would  look  for  the  cause 
of  the  mnemonic  faculty  in  the  widest  sense ....  And  fur- 
ther, the  very  essence  of  the  mnemonic  faculty  would  con- 
sist entirely  in  this  restitution"  (p.  342).  This  conception, 
it  will  be  noted  at  once,  is  not  very  different  from  those  al- 
ready advanced.  "The  only  new  thing  comprised  in  it  is 
the  hypothesis  that  the  substance,  whose  discharge  is  thus 
able  to  generate  a  given  nervous  current,  has  been  pro- 
duced and  deposited  exclusively  by  a  nervous  current  of 
the  same  specificity  but  of  reverse  direction,  and  could 
have  been  produced  and  deposited  only  by  such  a  current. 
But  in  this  hypothesis,  simple  as  it  is,  lies  everything; 
for  it  is  just  this  which  alone  can  explain  completely  the 
fundamental  law  of  the  reversibility  of  the  relation  between 
action  and  reaction,  stimulus  and  impression,  which  gov- 
erns all  organic  life"  (p.  321). 

Such  specific  elements  do  not,  of  course,  permit  of 
actual  demonstration  and  their  existence  is  purely  hypo- 
thetical. The  hypothesis  is  one,  however,  which  is  strongly 
indicated  by  the  facts.  Specific  accumulations  indicate 
specific  accumulators,  and  these  seem  likely  to  be  material 
and  substantial  since  their  activity  depends  upon  nutrition, 
and  the  nerve  cells  containing  them  are  material  and  sub- 
stantial things.  Rignano  says  (pp.  311-318): 

"We  should  now  examine  a  little  more  nearly  this  hy- 
pothesis ....  that  the  substance  which  constitutes  each  spe- 
cific element,  and  which  is  capable  of  giving  as  discharge 
a  single  well-determined  specific  nerve-current,  is  the  same 
and  the  only  substance  which  this  specific  nerve  current 
can  in  its  turn  form  and  deposit. 


VITAL  PROCESSES  ACCORDING  TO  RIGNANO.  329 

"This  should  not  appear  so  very  strange  to  us,  since 
the  inorganic  world  itself  presents  a  phenomenon  similar 
in  certain  respects.  The  substance  which  actually  consti- 
tutes the  charge  of  ordinary  electric  accumulators  is  ca- 
pable of  giving  back  inversely,  during  its  discharge,  the 
same  kind  of  energy  which  it  had  previously  received,  and 
by  which  it  had  itself  deen  deposited,  namely,  the  con- 
tinuous electric  current. 

"The  most  important  difference  consists  in  this,  that 
an  electric  accumulator  is  capable  of  restoring  always  only 
one  and  the  same  kind  of  energy,  but  not  solely  such  or  such 
specific  mode  of  this  energy,  as,  for  example,  only  such  or 
such  intensity  of  current.  It  constitutes,  for  that  reason, 
only  a  generic  potential  element;  but  such  accumulators 
would  attain  the  completeness  of  specific  potential  elements 
—receiving  and  restoring  instruments  of  the  greatest  del- 
icacy— if  one  could  make  it  possible  that  each  one  of  them 
should  restore  only  a  single  definite  intensity  of  current. 

"The  analogies  and  differences  which  nerve-currents 
present,  in  comparison  with  electric  currents,  quite  warrant 
us  in  assuming  in  nerve-currents  some  of  the  properties 
of  electric  currents,  and  to  attribute  at  the  same  time  to 
the  first  other  properties  which  the  electric  do  not  possess, 
provided  these  qualities  are  not  incompatible  with  one  an- 
other. 

"It  is  known  that,  if  we  designate  by  E  the  electro- 
motor force  of  an  accumulator  or  of  any  electro-chemical 
generator,  it  can  furnish  currents  of  a  given  intensity  i, 
according  to  the  resistance  R  of  the  circuit,  according  to 
the  equation  i  =  E/R. 

"Thus, — even  though  the  terms  of  motor  force,  of 
resistance,  of  intensity,  or  more  generally,  of  specificity, 
transferred  from  electric  to  nerve  currents,  must  be  quite 
vague, — we  may  very  well  venture,  nevertheless,  as  pre- 
liminary hypothesis,  to  attribute  to  nerve-currents  as 


33O  THE  MONIST. 

among  the  properties  they  might  have  analogous  to  electric 
currents,  precisely  those  contained  in  this  equation." 

Rignano  then  goes  on  to  state  certain  corollaries  fol- 
lowing from  this  hypothesis,  which  applying  to  the  mne- 
monic process,  account  for  certain  of  its  characteristic 
phases. 

"As  it  involves  nothing  incompatible  with  the  proper- 
ties expressed  by  this  equation,  we  may  imagine  a  nervous 
accumulator,  constituted  by  a  given  substance,  capable  of 
being  produced  and  deposited  solely  by  currents  of  a  defi- 
nite intensity,  or  specificity,  and  at  the  same  time  capable 
of  producing,  by  its  decomposition,  this  current  alone,— 
now  from  discharge  and  in  the  contrary  direction, — of  the 
same  intensity  or  specificity  i  as  that  of  the  charge."  This 
property  exhibited  by  mnemonic  elements  would  cause 
memories  to  produce  the  same  sensations,  and  often  also 
physiologic  actions  as  were  formerly  produced  in  the  orig- 
inal experience.  "This  accumulator,  then,  will  discharge 
itself  and  produce  this  current  as  often  as  its  nervo-motive 
force,  which  we  may  still  call  E,  is  sufficiently  great  to  over- 
come the  respective  resistance,  according  to  the  equation : 
E  =  iR. 

"Finally,  we  can  assume  that  the  magnitude  of  this 
nervo-motive  force  is  proportional  to  the  quantity  or  mass 
of  the  substance,  which  is  gradually  deposited  and  accumu- 
lated, as  if  the  successive  infinitesimal  deposits  of  this  sub- 
stance were  innumerable  little  Leyden  jars  arranged  in  re- 
lation, one  to  another,  in  some  serial  order.  Then  the 
greater  the  mass  of  the  specific  substance  of  this  nervous 
accumulator  the  greater  in  proportion  will  be  the  resis- 
tance which  its  discharge  will  be  able  to  overcome.  At  the 
same  time,  this  accumulator  capable  of  surmounting  by  its 
current  of  a  predetermined  intensity  i,  a  given  resistance 
R,  will  be  capable  also  of  surmounting  every  other  resis- 
tance less  great  than  R ;  for,  for  that,  it  will  suffice  that  it 


VITAL  PROCESSES  ACCORDING  TO  RIGNANO.  33! 

is  not  the  total  quantity  of  material  at  disposal  that  enters 
into  action,  but  only  a  portion  more  or  less  large,  so  as  to 
furnish  for  each  resistance  R'<R,  the  nervo-motor  force 
E'<E,  given  by  the  formula: 

£'  =  iR'. 

"Suppose  now  that  the  discharge  of  this  accumulator 
on  account  of  the  ubication  or  the  mode  of  its  insertion, 
is  able  to  flow  only  upon  a  given  point  of  a  given  plexus, 
traversed  the  length  of  its  meshes  by  as  many  currents  of 
the  most  diverse  specificities,  capable  of  combining  one 
with  another  and  of  decomposing,  and  in  dynamic  equilib- 
rium among  themselves.  (It  may  be  remarked  here  that 
the  expression  'dynamic  equilibrium'  of  a  circulatory  sys- 
tem is  always  to  be  understood  in  the  sense  of  inalterability 
for  the  time,  in  the  conditions  of  movement  at  each  point 
of  the  system.  Thus,  for  example,  the  system  of  distribu- 
tion of  the  drinking  water  of  a  city,  which  is  fed  from  a 
given  constant  number  of  basins,  whose  head  of  water  is 
maintained  always  at  the  same  height,  and  in  which  a 
given  constant  number  of  water  taps  are  always  open,  will 
settle  in  a  short  time  into  a  dynamic  equilibrium  in  our 
sense,  and  continue  in  it  so  long  as  the  accession  of  a  new 
basin,  for  example,  or  the  opening  of  other  water  taps  does 
not  affect  the  transition  to  a  new  dynamic  equilibrium.) 

"As  soon  as  the  discharge  of  this  nervous  accumulator 
occurs,  which  can  produce  thus  only  a  single  definite  speci- 
ficity of  current,  and  discharge  itself  upon  only  a  single 
determined  point,  it  will  necessarily  effect  a  single  very 
definite  change  in  the  dynamic  equilibrium  of  this  given 
circulatory  system.  And  in  the  cases  in  which  this  change 
of  the  dynamic  equilibrium  requires  the  doing  of  a  certain 
amount  of  work  (which  theoretically  is  not  always  re- 
quired), this  required  expenditure  of  work  or  energy  will 
be  definitely  determined  for  each  discharge,  and  can  be 


33^  THE  MONIST. 

provided  only  by  the  accumulator  itself.  Consequently,  in 
order  that  the  discharge  may  take  place,  this  quantity  will 
have  to  be  less  than,  or  at  most  equal  to,  that  which  the 
accumulator  can  actually  furnish. 

"The  quantity  of  work  which  each  accumulator  is  ca- 
pable of  furnishing  will  necessarily  be  proportional  to  the 
mass  of  the  substance  which  constitutes  it.  And  since,  as  we 
saw,  the  resistance  R  which  each  accumulator  with  its  cur- 
rent of  definite  specificity  i,  is  able  to  surmount,  is  like- 
wise proportional  to  the  mass  of  the  substance  of  the  accu- 
mulator (because  it  is  proportional  to  its  nervo-motive 
force,  which  also  is  in  its  turn  proportional  to  this  mass, 
according  to  the  preliminary  hypothesis),  then  the  quan- 
tity of  work  required  to  effect  the  change  under  con- 
sideration, must  be  regarded  as  equivalent  to  a  resistance 
R,  which  opposes  the  discharge. 

"If  now  we  admit  that  in  nearly  all  cases,  which  come 
into  consideration  here,  the  quantity  of  work,  requisite  for 
effecting  a  given  change  in  the  dynamic  equilibrium  of  the 
whole  circulatory  system,  is  proportionately  greater,  the 
more  considerable  (if  we  may  be  pardoned  this  much  too 
indefinite  expression)  in  quantity  and  quality  this  change 
is, ....  the  following  general  rule  can  be  established.  The 
smaller  the  mass  and  therefore  the  nervo-motive  force  of  a 
specific  accumulator,  so  much  the  more  closely  is  its  dis- 
charge dependent  upon  the  condition  that  the  whole  dy- 
namic system,  above  all  and  very  especially  in  the  im- 
mediate neighborhood  of  the  accumulator,  find  itself  again 
in  exactly  the  same  circumstances  in  which  it  was  when 
the  accumulator  was  formed.  Conversely,  the  greater  the 
mass  of  the  accumulator,  the  more  easily  can  the  conditions 
obtain  which  are  able  to  effect  its  discharge."  Conse- 
quently, if  the  mass,  and  hence  the  nervo-motive  force  of 
the  accumulator,  be  minimal,  it  will  be  able  to  discharge 
only  when  the  whole  dynamic  system  in  the  immediate  en- 


VITAL  PROCESSES  ACCORDING  TO  RIGNANO.  333 

vironment  comes  again  into  the  same  conditions  practically 
as  existed  when  the  accumulator  was  formed. 

"Let  us  suppose,  further,  that  as  the  result  of  external 
influences  there  are  induced  at  the  same  moment  at  a  few 
points  of  the  system  a  corresponding  and  equal  number 
of  new  nerve-currents,  specifically  different  from  the  pre- 
ceding, so  that  the  system  is  thereby  caused  to  pass  over  to 
another  dynamic  equilibrium.  It  is  clear  that  there  will 
then  be  deposited  in  each  point  of  the  system — and  not 
merely  in  those  which  external  influences  have  directly 
modified, — a  new  specific  potential  element,  in  mass  more 
or  less  large  according  to  the  time  which  the  new  state  of 
dynamic  equilibrium  persists.  At  the  same  time,  how- 
ever, all  these  same  points  of  the  system  will  preserve,  in  a 
potential  state — not  in  activation — ,  all  the  specific  ele- 
ments which  were  deposited  during  the  preceding  state  of 
dynamic  equilibrium. 

"If,  such  being  the  state  of  things,  it  now  happen  that 
even  any  single  point  whatever  of  the  system  is  brought 
back  again,  by  any  external  influence,  to  the  specificity 
which  it  already  had  possessed  in  the  preceding  stage,  that 
will  make  it  possible  for  the  respective  specific  elements 
corresponding  to  that  stage  to  come  again  into  activity, 
at  first  in  the  point  nearest,  and  then  from  next  to  next 
until  in  the  most  distant;  for  then  each  of  these  elements 
will  find  its  immediate  environs  in  approximately  the  same 
conditions  as  when  that  element  was  deposited  and  in  ac- 
tivity. It  will  suffice  then  that  even  a  single  point  of  a 
system  return,  through  the  action  of  external  influences, 
to  its  preceding  state,  in  order  that  the  whole  system, 
transforming  itself  during  the  discharge  of  the  different 
specific  potential  elements  corresponding  to  that  former 
stage,  should  resume  the  whole  dynamic  condition  of  that 
stage. 

"We  have  then  a  phenomenon  of  succession  or  of  asso- 


334  THE  MONIST. 

elation  of  nerve-currents  which,  as  is  easily  conceivable 
and  becomes  even  clearer  later,  may  serve  as  a  basis  for  the 
psychic  law  of  succession  or  association  of  ideas." 

This  quality  in  nervous  accumulators  would  explain  how 
memories  are  recalled  by  association,  how  the  memory  of 
one  part  of  a  scene  recalls  the  other  parts,  one  after  an- 
other, and  how  the  memory  of  an  event  develops  in  our 
minds  in  the  same  sequence  as  was  originally  followed  by 
the  different  parts  of  the  event  itself. 

This  specific  potential  mnemonic  element  or  elementary 
nervous  accumulator  is  "according  to  the  hypothesis  noth- 
ing else  than  the  minute  particle  of  a  substance  which  each 
new  specific  nervous  current,  passing  through  a  nucleus 
deposits  in  it,  a  substance  which  adds  itself  to  those  already 
present  in  it  without  changing  them  and  which  is  capable 
as  soon  as  it  finds  itself  in  the  same  relation  to  its  environ- 
ment as  at  the  time  of  its  deposit,  of  restoring  the  same 
specific  current  by  which  it  was  produced."  On  pages  345- 
354  the  author  continues: 

"The  above-mentioned  conception  of  Hering  of  the  dis- 
position of  the  nervous  substance  to  sound  again  the  ton< 
of  yesterday  is  derived  from  the  physical  phenomenon  oJ 
acoustic  resonators.    The  nervous  substance  which  woulc 
be  made  to  vibrate  in  a  given  specific  way  at  a  given  poinl 
by  a  definite  elementary  sensation  or  representation  woulc 
remain  from  that  moment  capable  of  vibrating  always  anc 
exclusively  according  to  that  specific  mode.    According  t< 
the  hypothesis  of  mnemonic  elements  on  the  contrary,  i1 
is  well  to  repeat  again  each  elementary  sensation  or  repn 
entation  would  consist  not  so  much  in  a  specific  vibratioi 
of  the  nervous  substance  at  this  or  that  point  but  in  th< 
production  by  the  action  of  external  stimuli  of  a  giv< 
specific  nervous  current.     In  this  way  the  memory  of  ai 
elementary  sensation  or  representation  would  consist  onl; 


VITAL  PROCESSES  ACCORDING  TO  RIGNANO.  335 

in  the  reproduction  by  the  action  of  causes  now  internal 
of  the  same  specific  nervous  current. 

"In  other  words  the  way  in  which  the  hypothesis  of 
mnemonic  elements  or  specific  elementary  accumulators 
would  conceive  of  the  mnemonic  phenomena  is  as  follows : 

"A  series  of  sounds  or  of  words,  for  example  a  certain 
melody,  or  some  phrase  of  a  discourse  when  once  it  has 
entered  by  the  ear  we  can  imagine,  produces  a  series  of 
nervous  currents  in  the  auditory  nerve  specifically  different 
one  from  another  just  as  in  a  telephone  the  successive  elec- 
tric currents  are  specifically  different  from  one  another  (in 
this  particular  case  different  in  intensity)  which  the  same 
series  of  sounds  produces  in  the  receptive  apparatus  and 
later  transmits  along  the  wire.  If  then  one  or  several 
nerve  centers,  after  receiving  these  specifically  different 
currents,  are  capable  of  storing  up  these  specific  energies, 
each  distinct  from  the  other  in  such  a  way  as  to  reproduce 
them  identically  later  at  the  moment  of  discharge,  and  if, 
further,  the  discharge  of  each  immediately  preceding 
specific  energy  and  it  alone  is  capable  of  producing  the  lib- 
eration of  the  specific  energy  immediately  following  (and 
we  have  seen  above  that  this  is  one  consequence  of  the 
hypothesis  of  specific  elementary  accumulators),  it  will 
be  in  this  way  possible  for  the  same  succession  of  different 
specific  currents  and  consequently  of  different  ideas  or  im- 
pressions to  be  repeated  a  great  number  of  times,  and  it  is 
in  just  this  that  the  mnemonic  phenomenon  consists. 

"One  could  evidently  say  the  same  thing  of  the  optic 
phenomenon,  that  is  to  say,  of  any  series  of  colors  or  spe- 
cific luminous  vibrations  which  succeed  one  another  in 
space  or  time. 

"Ribot  has  rightly  said  that  'There  is  not  one  memory, 
but  memories;  that  there  is  not  one  seat  of  memory,  but 
particular  seats  for  each  particular  memory/5  And,  ac- 

8  Ribot,  Les  maladies  de  la  memoire.    Paris,  Alcan,  1901,  p.  n. 


336  THE  MONIST. 

cording  to  this  theory,  each  mnemonic  element  would  con- 
stitute a  particular  seat  for  each  elementary  sensation  or 
each  particular  specific  impression. 

"In  this  sense  also,  that  is  to  say  on  the  condition  that 
the  expression  'nervous  elements'  be  not  disjoined  from  the 
conception  of  elementary  specific  accumulators  or  mne- 
monic elements,  we  can  accept  the  idea  of  memory  which 
this  investigator  (Ribot)  has  put  forward:  If  we  at- 
tempt/ writes  he,  'to  recall  a  good  memory  and  to  express 
this  in  physiological  terms,  we  must  figure  to  ourselves  a 
great  number  of  nervous  elements,  each  modified  in  a  par- 
ticular manner,  each  taking  part  in  one  combination  and 
probably  capable  of  entering  into  several,  each  of  these 
combinations  containing  within  it  the  conditions  of  exist- 
ence of  the  states  of  consciousness.  Memory  has  then  static 
and  dynamic  bases.  Its  strength  is  in  relation  to  their 
number  and  stability/6 

'  'One  asks/  continues  Ribot,  'if  each  nerve  cell  can 
preserve  several  different  modifications  or  if  once  modified 
it  is  forever  polarized.  The  number  of  cerebral  cells  being 
about  600,000,000  according  to  the  calculations  of  Meynert 
(and  Sir  Lionel  Beale  gives  a  much  higher  figure)  the  hy- 
pothesis of  a  single  impression  is  not  inconceivable/7  It 
may  be  remarked  here  that  according  to  the  hypothesis  of 
mnemonic  elements  there  is  room  in  each  brain  cell  for  a 
whole  series  of  specific  deposits  and  not  merely  for  one 
specific  deposit.  . .  . 

"Provisionally  it  can  be  affirmed  that  the  close  depen- 
dence of  memory  upon  the  nutritive  processes8  indicates 
strongly  that  the  preservation  of  memories  is  to  be  ascribed 
to  accumulations  of  substances.  Further,  as  was  very  well 
remarked  by  Hensen,  the  fact  that  many  memories  through- 

8  Ribot,  loc.  cit.,  p.  32. 

7  Ribot,  loc.  cit.,  p.  17. 

8  Ribot,  loc.  cit.,  pp.  155-163- 


VITAL  PROCESSES  ACCORDING  TO  RIGNANO.  337 

out  several  years  may  remain  completely  quiescent  and 
then  can  come  again  with  great  distinctness  into  conscious- 
ness, notwithstanding  that  all  the  parts  of  the  organism 
have  been  renewed  several  times  in  the  interval,9  indicates 
(if  one  recollects  that  assimilation  consists  in  the  incessant 
reproduction  of  new  masses,  always  of  identically  the  same 
substance)  that  in  order  to  preserve  these  memories  it  is 
sufficient  if  for  one  given  substance  there  be  substituted 
another  identical  one.  The  existence  finally  of  several  more 
or  less  clear,  more  or  less  intense  memories,  coupled  with 
the  fact  that  this  greater  clearness  or  intensity  and  all 
hypermnesia  in  general  depend  also  upon  phenomena  of 
nutrition,  indicate  that  the  degree  of  vividness  or  intensity 
and  the  degree  of  hypermnesia  in  general  may  be  a  func- 
tion of  the  mass  of  the  substance  concerned,  on  the  accumu- 
lation of  which  the  preservation  of  these  memories  is  de- 
pendent. 

"If  it  appears  thus  to  be  shown  by  facts,  that  the  pres- 
ervation of  memories  is  due  to  accumulations  of  substance, 
a  whole  series  of  other  facts  seems  to  demonstrate  that  the 
reawakening  of  these  memories  consists  in  the  restitution 
of  the  same  currents  as  had  formerly  constituted  the  actual 
sensation  or  impression. 

"We  need  not  recall  here  all  the  innumerable  examples 
which  show  that  the  motor  or  secretory  or  physiological 
effects  in  general  of  the  mnemonic  reawakening  of  a  given 
sensation  or  impression  are  quite  identical  with  those  of  the 
real  sensation  or  impression :  for  example,  the  recollection 
of  a  certain  dish  produces  the  same  salivation  as  is  pro- 
voked by  the  dish  itself;  the  memory  of  the  beloved  per- 
son can  cause  each  time  the  same  reddening  of  the  counte- 
nance, the  same  brightening  of  the  eyes,  the  same  accelera- 
tion of  the  pulse  as  the  direct  view  of  that  person;  every 

'Hensen,  Ueber  das  Gedachtnis.  Kiel,  Universitats-Buchhandlung,  1877, 
P.  13- 


338  THE   MONIST. 

time  that  a  mother  thinks  of  her  nursing  child  there  comes 
a  flow  of  milk  into  the  breasts.  These  are  some  examples 
which  show  the  substantial  identity  of  the  functional  and 
mnemonic  stimulus .... 

"If  the  preservation  of  each  memory  is  due  to  deposits 
in  number  exactly  equal  to  the  specific  elementary  nervous 
currents  which  the  sensation  or  complex  impression  had 
provoked  in  the  nervous  system,  we  are  then  in  a  position 
to  comprehend  also  the  phenomenon  known  under  the  name 
of  abridgment :  'Every  memory/  says  Ribot,  'however  lim- 
ited it  may  be,  undergoes  an  enormous  abridgment.  The 
farther  that  the  present  recedes  into  the  past,  the  more  do 
the  conditions  of  consciousness  diminish  and  disappear. 
Reviewed  at  several  days  distance  there  remains  little  or 
nothing  of  them ;  for  the  most  part  they  have  darkened  into 
a  nothingness  from  which  they  will  never  again  emerge  and 
have  taken  with  them  the  time  duration  inherent  in  them. 
Consequently  a  diminution  of  the  conditions  of  conscious- 
ness is  a  diminution  in  time.'1( 

"This  disappearance  of  the  elementary  conditions  of 
consciousness  producing  the  abbreviation  of  the  memory 
will  be  due,  then,  according  to  our  view,  to  the  disappear- 
ance of  the  secondary  mnemonic  elements,  that  is  to  say, 
those  provided  with  a  minimum  quantity  of  the  respective 
substance  (and  potential  energy  which  is  the  consequence 
of  it)  from  the  series  which  constitutes  the  entire  memory. 
Possibly  this  disappearance  can  be  caused  by  the  fact  that 
the  nutritive  fluid  has  come  gradually  to  be  entirely  ab- 
sorbed by  the  principal  mnemonic  elements  of  the  same 
series  and  by  the  new  elements  which  later  supervene  as 
a  consequence  of  later  sensations  also  stored  up  in  mem- 
ory. . .  . 

"In  recalling  a  given  memory  the  cells  do  not  lose  the 
'impression/  as  we  call  it,  which  they  preserve  of  that  mem- 

10  Ribot,  Les  maladies  de  la  memoire,  pp.  44,  45. 


VITAL  PROCESSES  ACCORDING  TO  RIGNANO.  339 

ory;  on  the  contrary,  the  more  a  memory  is  recalled,  the 
more  the  respective  'impression'  is  reinforced.  This  sig- 
nifies that  the  entrance  into  activity  or  function  of  mne- 
monic elements  merely  causes  their  mass  and  their  potential 
energy  to  increase The  active  participation  of  the  mne- 
monic centers  in  the  biological  phenomena  of  memory 
leaves  them  in  the  same  state  as  before  so  that  they  are 
equally  capable  and  even  more  capable  than  formerly  of 
reproducing  many  more  times  the  same  phenomena. 

"The  reawakening  of  mnemonic  centers  at  long  inter- 
vals of  years  constitute  very  ordinary  phenomena.  Cases 
are  frequent,  for  example,  of  adults  who  are  able  to  repeat 
poems  which  they  had  learned  in  their  earliest  childhood, 
even  after  many  years  during  which  they  have  never  had 
occasion  to  repeat  them  at  any  time.  Coleridge  speaks  of 
a  young  girl  who  in  the  delirium  of  fever,  repeated  long 
fragments  in  the  Hebrew  tongue  which  she  did  not  under- 
stand but  which  she  had  a  very  "long  time  before  heard 
read  aloud  by  a  priest  in  whose  service  she  had  been.11  A 
Lutheran  preacher  of  German  origin  living  in  America, 
who  had  in  his  congregation  a  considerable  number  of  Ger- 
mans and  Swedes,  related  to  Dr.  Rush  that  nearly  all,  a 
little  before  dying,  pray  in  their  mother  tongue.  "I  have/' 
said  he,  "innumerable  examples  of  it,  and  among  them 
several  in  which  I  am  sure  they  had  not  spoken  German 
or  Swedish  for  fifty  or  sixty  years."12  Rignano  cites  other 
similar  instances,  but  in  this  review  it  is  not  expedient  to 
multiply  them.  Such  instances  are  familiar  to  every  one. 
He  continues : 

"These  examples  show,  then,  how  remarkable  can  be 
the  persistence  of  conditions  latent  in  memory.  Let  us  note 
further,  that  these  last  cases  present,  in  a  very  striking 

11  Maudsley,  The  Physiology  of  Mind,  p.  25. 

13  Ribot,  Les  maladies  de  la  memoire,  pp.  146-147. 


340  THE  MONIST. 

form,  what  Ribot  calls  'reminiscence  from  contiguity  in 
space'. 

"These  reminiscences  through  contiguity  in  space  are 
only  a  particular  case  of  the  general  law  of  the  association 
or  succession  of  ideas.  They  indicate  that  the  mnemonic 
center  reacts  only  when  the  sight  of  the  same  place  induces 
in  the  environment  of  that  center  almost  the  same  state  of 
nervous  distribution  as  at  the  former  time  when  it  received 
the  impression.  That  is  exactly.  . .  .  the  result  to  which 
we  were  led  by  the  hypothesis  of  specific  elementary  ac- 
cumulators which  have  advanced." 

Having  seen  thus  how  the  faculty  of  memory  finds 
an  explanation  in  this  simple  hypothesis  and  how  certain 
corollaries  following  logically  upon  its  acceptance  explain 
the  various  qualities  of  mnemonic  phenomena,  it  remains 
to  see  in  what  way  the  fundamental  process,  which  is  sug- 
gested as  the  basis  of  memory,  is  inherent  also  in  other 
vital  processes.  If  it  be  true  that  currents  of  nervous  na- 
ture, able  to  deposit  these  accumulator  substances,  are  not 
confined  to  the  nervous  tissues  proper,  but  pass  constantly 
through  the  cytoplasm  of  all  living  cells  whatever,  to  and 
from  the  nuclei,  we  have  thus  provided  a  mechanism 
whereby  mnemonic  faculties  can  be  exhibited,  by  every 
part  of  living  organisms.  There  is  very  good  evidence  that 
such  currents  do  exist.  Pfeffer  demonstrated  the  presence 
in  plants  of  nuclear  excitations  which  passed  through  the 
cytoplasm  and  produced  specific  effects  at  the  distance  of 
several  millimeters.13  Commenting  on  Pfeffer's  experiment, 
O.  Hertwig  states  that  "it  is  thereby  proved  that  the  stim- 
ulus necessary  for  membrane  formation  can  be  trans- 
mitted through  the  fine  connecting  filaments  which  pass 
through  the  dividing  wall  between  two  cells.  There  is  noth- 
ing in  the  way  of  admitting  similar  means  for  the  transmis- 

13  Pfeffer,  "Ueber  den  Einfluss  des  Zellkerns  auf  die  Bildung  der  Zell- 
haut,"  Berichte  uber  die  V erhandlungen  der  konigl.  sacks.  Gesellsch.  d.  Wis- 
sensch.  zu  Leipzig,  1897,  p.  507. 


VITAL  PROCESSES  ACCORDING  TO  RIGNANO.  34! 

sion  of  other  functional  stimuli  also." — "It  is  probable  that 
the  transmission  of  nuclear  stimuli  by  protoplasmic  fila- 
ments is  much  less  rapid  and  less  intense  than  nerve  con- 
duction, but  perhaps  for  this  very  reason  may  be  more 
continuous  and  by  reason  of  its  duration  more  efficacious."14 
All  the  phenomena  of  nervous  nature  exhibited  by  proto- 
zoa and  low  forms  of  animal  life  must  depend  upon  similar 
nervous  currents.  While  the  higher  animal  organisms 
are  still  in  an  embryonic  state,  and  before  a  nervous  system 
is  developed,  such  simple  means  of  transmission  of  impulses 
by  means  of  cytoplasm,  protoplasmic  filaments  and  inter- 
cellular bridges  must  be  the  only  ones  available.  During 
the  development  of  the  nervous  tissues  proper,  there  must 
be  co-operation  of  the  two  methods,  as  also  in  the  adult 
organism  in  which  there  would  thus  be  provided  a  general 
nervous  circulation  whereby  the  entire  organism  is  con- 
nected up,  both  adjacent  and  remote  parts  into  a  single 
plexus. 

The  mechanism  necessary  for  the  general  exercise  of 
a  mnemonic  faculty  being  present  throughout  the  organ- 
ism, it  is  interesting  to  note  that  Hering  finds  the  mnemonic 
faculty  itself  present,  as  shown  in  his  book  Ueber  das  Ge- 
ddchtnis  als  erne  allgemeine  Funktion  der  organisierten 
Materie,  pp.  16-17.  Her  ing's  assertion  has  recently  been 
taken  up  again  by  Richard  Semon,  and  more  thoroughly 
and  completely  treated  in  his  work,  Die  Mneme  als  erhal- 
tendes  Prinzip  im  Wechsel  des  organischen  Geschehens 
(Leipsic,  Engelmann,  1904).  Ribot  also  states  that  "mem- 
ory is  essentially  a  biological  fact,  accidentally  a  psycho- 
logical one."15 

The  possession  by  living  matter  in  general  of  a  mne- 
monic faculty  should  throw  some  light  upon  many  of  its 
activities  and  especially  upon  those  which  resemble  mem- 

14  Oscar  Hertwig,  Die  Zelle  und  die  Gewebe,  II,  pp.  40-41. 

15  Ribot,  Les  maladies  de  la  memoire,  p.  i. 


342  THE  MONIST. 

ory.  All  those  phenomena  which  show  a  restitution  of  a 
vital  process,  or  a  repetition  of  it  many  times,  and  always 
in  the  same  way  would  find  an  explanation  in  this  faculty. 
In  this  connection  one  thinks  at  once  of  the  germ  substance 
which  in  successive  ontogeneses  repeats  a  vital  process, 
and  tends  to  repeat  it  always  in  exactly  the  same  way. 

(Rignano,  pp.  339-340)  :  "The  comparison  between  the 
phenomena  of  development  and  the  phenomena  of  memory, 
especially  after  the  discovery  of  the  fundamental  biogenetic 
law,  that  the  ontogeny  of  each  individual  tends  to  repeat 
exactly  the  ontogenies  of  all  its  ancestors,  has  presented 
itself  spontaneously  to  a  large  number  of  authors.  'The 
germ,'  wrote  Claude  Bernard,  'seems  to  preserve  the  mem- 
ory of  the  organism  from  which  it  proceeds/16  Haeckel 
attributes  development  to  the  mnemonic  quality  of  his  plas- 
tidules Orr  endeavored  to  explain  recapitulation  du- 
ring ontogeny  by  the  mnemonic  law  of  habit.  Cope  held 
that  ontogeny  is  called  forth  by  the  unconscious  memory 
of  phylogeny.  Naegeli  and,  in  some  places,  Hertwig,  him- 
self, attributes  to  the  idioplasm  the  faculty  of  remembering, 
so  to  speak,  the  successive  phylogenetic  stages  through 
which  it  had  gradually  passed. 

"But  it  was  above  all  Hering  who  maintained  most 
boldly  the  fundamental  identity  of  the  ontogenetic  and  mne- 
monic phenomena:  What  is  it  that  causes  this  reappear- 
ance in  the  daughter  organism  which  is  developing,  of 
characters  of  the  parent  organism  if  it  be  not  a  reproduction 
on  the  part  of  organized  matter,  of  processes  in  which  it 
has  already  taken  part  at  another  time,  if  only  as  a  germ  in 
the  ovary ;  and  which  now  at  an  opportune  moment  it  re- 
calls exactly  while  reacting  to  the  same  or  similar  stimuli 
in  a  manner  similar  to  that  which  the  preceding  organism 
has  already  followed,  of  which  it  was  formerly  a  part  and 

19  Claude  Bernard,  Lemons  sur  les  phenomenes  de  la  vie  communs  aux  ani- 
maux  et  aux  vegetaux,  p.  66. 


VITAL  PROCESSES  ACCORDING  TO  RIGNANO.  343 

of  the  vicissitudes  of  which  it  had  then  shared?  If  the 
parent  organism  by  long  custom  or  repeated  action  has 
changed  somewhat  in  nature  in  such  a  way  that  the  ger- 
minal cellule  within  it  has  also  been  affected,  however  feebly 
it  may  be,  and  if  this  latter  commences  a  new  existence 
growing  and  developing  into  a  new  being  of  which  the 
different  parts  are  not  other  than  itself  and  flesh  of  its 
flesh,  and  if  in  thus  developing  it  reproduce  that  which  it 
had  already  experienced  at  another  time  as  part  of  a  great 
whole,  this  is  also  precisely  as  astonishing  as  when  mem- 
ories of  his  early  childhood  are  recalled  suddenly  to  the 
old  man,  but  it  is  not  more  astonishing.  And  whether  it 
may  be  still  just  the  same  organized  substance  which  re- 
produces a  process  already  once  experienced,  or  whether 
it  may  be  only  a  descendant,  a  portion  of  its  substance 
which  in  the  interval  has  grown  and  become  large,  this  is 
manifestly  a  difference  of  degree  only  and  not  of  es- 
sence/17 The  observation  of  the  similarity  of  the  two 
processes,  although  extremely  interesting,  so  long  as  nei- 
ther phenomenon  was  understood,  did  not  help  science 
much  in  its  search  for  the  fundamental  causes.  Rignano 
remarks  (pp.  341-342)  that  "this  extension  of  the  mne- 
monic faculty  over  every  vital  phenomenon  without  excep- 
tion, [including  development]  although  it  contains  much 
truth,  could  not  by  itself  constitute  any  explanation  of 
either  one  phenomenon  or  the  other,  but  on  the  other  hand 
helps  to  plunge  both  into  deeper  darkness ;  for  while  by  this 
comparison  the  obscure  fundamental  peculiarities  common 
to  both  become  in  no  wise  clearer,  the  most  striking  charac- 
teristics of  each  of  the  two  phenomena  which  are  different 
in  the  two,  and  which  are  those  that  up  to  the  present  have 
served  to  give  us  the  most  exact  ideas  possible  of  their  re- 
spective phenomena  are  left  out  of  consideration. 

"Ewald  Hering,  Ueber  das  Ged'dchtnis  als  eine  allgemeine  Function  der 
organisierten  Materie,  pp.  16-17. 


344  THE  MONIST. 

"The  phenomenon  of  memory  can  serve  neither  as  an 
explanation  of  the  phenomenon  of  development  nor  of  the 
vital  phenomenon  in  general,  because  it  constitutes  itself 
a  phenomenon  more  special  and  more  complex  than  those 
it  was  summoned  to  explain.  There  was  still,  however,  a 
possibility  that  the  resemblance  which  appeared  to  exist 
between  some  essential  characters  of  these  three  phenom- 
ena might  be  explained  by  a  fourth  more  general  and  more 
simple  phenomenon,  which  would  be  at  the  same  time  the 
basis  of  all  three  categories  of  phenomena ;  the  ontogenetic, 
mnemonic  properly  so  called  (psycho-mnemonic),  and  the 
vital." 

This  hypothesis  of  specific  nervous  accumulators  con- 
stituting germinal,  mnemonic,  and  vital  elements  affords 
an  intelligible  explanation  of  that  basic  property  which 
would  explain  and  unify  all  three. 

EXPLANATION  OF  ONTOGENY. 

In  his  biogenetic  law  Haeckel  formulated  the  marvelous 
phenomenon  of  recapitulation  of  phylogeny  during  on- 
togeny. During  the  course  of  ontogeny  the  developing 
organism  tends  to  repeat  the  development  of  its  ancestors, 
one  after  another,  passing  from  stage  to  stage  in  the  order 
in  which  those  stages  appeared  in  evolution.  Thus  even 
though  modifications  may  supervene,  it  can  be  said  that  at 
each  stage  it  represents  the  form  of  an  ancestor  which  at- 
tained at  that  stage  its  full  development.  From  the  be- 
ginning of  development  the  same  stages  follow  one  another 
in  the  same  order  in  all  animals  in  so  far  as  they  have  a 
common  line  of  descent.  Some  influences  come  into  activ- 
ity within  the  embryo  serially,  causing  it  to  pass  from  each 
stage  to  that  following  next  in  the  oft  repeated  series. 
This  principle  of  repetition  in  embryological  development, 
although  so  familiar,  is  yet  inexplicable.  So  far  there  has 


VITAL  PROCESSES  ACCORDING  TO  RIGNANO.  345 

been  no  satisfactory  explanation  of  what  the  impelling 
forces  are,  nor  of  why  developmental  stages  should  succeed 
one  another  always  in  the  same  order  recapitulating  phy- 
logeny. 

But  the  phenomena  become  intelligible  if  with  Rignano 
we  consider  the  germ  substance  as  constituted  by  specific, 
mnemonic,  germinal,  elements  quite  like  the  specific  mne- 
monic elements  of  the  brain  substance.  Just  as  stimuli 
acting  upon  human  bodies,  in  addition  to  bringing  about 
physiological  changes  and  sensations  cause  also  the  deposit 
in  the  brain  of  corresponding  specific  accumulators  (as  we 
have  already  noted  in  our  consideration  of  memory),  so  also 
the  stimuli,  whatever  they  may  have  been,  which  acted 
upon  the  germs  of  the  ancestors  of  organisms  now  living, 
in  addition  to  bringing  about  developmental  changes  would 
also  cause  the  deposit  in  the  germ  of  corresponding  spe- 
cific accumulators.  Just  as  the  specific  mnemonic  accu- 
mulators in  the  brain  cells  are  able,  when  conditions  permit 
their  activation,  to  cause  former  stimuli  (nerve  currents) 
to  be  reproduced  capable  of  causing  a  repetition  of  the 
same  sensations  and  physiological  changes,  so  also  the 
specific  mnemonic  accumulators  in  the  germ  substance 
would  be  able  when  conditions  permitted  their  activation 
to  cause  former  stimuli  to  be  reproduced  capable  of  caus- 
ing a  repetition  of  the  same  developmental  changes.  And 
this  repetition  wrill  be  effected  during  the  development  of 
organisms  of  later  generations. 

There  is  thus  suggested  a  working  hypothesis  by  which 
we  can  understand  what  the  impelling  forces  of  develop- 
ment may  be  and  whence  they  come.  It  remains  to  be 
explained  why  developmental  stages  should  succeed  one 
another  always  in  the  same  order  recapitulating  phylogeny. 

In  memory  there  operates  the  law  of  association  of 
ideas  and  we  have  seen  this  to  be  dependent  upon  prop- 
erties which  specific,  mnemonic  accumulators  must  pos- 


346  THE  MONIST. 

sess  in  accordance  with  the  general  physical  laws  to  which 
they  are  subject. 

If  we  admit  the  general  rule  then  developed  for  specific 
accumulators,  by  which  (pp.  315-316)  "the  quantity  of 
work  requisite  for  effecting  a  given  change  in  the  dynamic 
equilibrium  of  the  whole  circulatory  system,  is  proportion- 
ally greater,  the  more  considerable  in  quantity  and  quality 
the  change  is,  it  becomes  at  once  conceivable  why  each  spe- 
cific potential  element  of  the  germinal  centers  can  become 
activated  only  wrhen  the  embryo  has  reached  the  ontoge- 
netic  stage,  corresponding  to  the  particular  phylogenetic 
stage,  at  which  this  element  had  been  acquired  by  the 
germinal  substance.  For  then  first  will  the  change  which 
the  dynamic  system  of  the  embryo  undergoes,  as  a  result 
of  the  activation  of  this  specific  potential  element,  be  the 
least  possible,  and  therefore  generally  also  the  only  one 
whose  resistance  can  be  surmounted  by  the  very  weak 
nervomotive  force  of  this  specific  potential  element."  There- 
fore these  accumulators  must  become  activated  one  after 
another,  always  in  the  same  order,  and  always  in  the  order 
in  which  the  corresponding  stimuli  had  become  operative 
in  phylogeny.  We  thus  have  provided  a  mechanism  which, 
acting  with  all  the  certainty  of  a  physical  process,  must 
tend  to  cause  developing  organisms,  in  so  far  as  they  have 
common  ancestors,  to  pass  in  the  same  order  through  the 
same  series  of  changes,  namely  those  through  which  their 
common  ancestors  passed  in  evolution.  And  this  arrange- 
ment is  the  same  as  that  which  causes  recollections  of  suc- 
cessive events  to  come  up,  according  to  the  mnemonic  law 
of  association  of  ideas,  in  the  same  order  as  that  in  which 
the  events  themselves  had  originally  occurred. 

(P.  354)  "In  mnemonic  phenomena  proper  [psychic], 
they  are  the  infinitely  diverse  and  constantly  changing  con- 
ditions of  the  external  environment,  and  the  corresponding 
sensations  following  in  the  individual  which  call  forth  like 


VITAL  PROCESSES  ACCORDING  TO  RIGNANO.  347 

a  phantasy  such  and  such  an  association  or  succession  of 
ideas.  But  in  the  development  of  the  embryo  which  is  re- 
moved from  the  action  of  every  external  perturbating  in- 
fluence and  above  all,  which  is  provoked  by  the  activation 
of  different  specific  germinal  elements  from  one  and  the 
same  complex  mnemonic  center  constituted  by  the  germinal 
substance,  the  succession  of  mnemonic  states  of  this  latter 
called  into  activity  one  after  the  other,  and  of  the  corres- 
ponding stages  of  ontogeny  must  inevitably  proceed  in  un- 
interrupted series,  always  the  same  for  all  individual  on- 
togenies of  the  same  species.  For  to  reawaken  each  mne- 
monic element  of  this  germinal  substance  there  must  again 
concur  exactly  the  corresponding  conditions  of  nervous  dis- 
tribution of  the  embryo  which  had  been  provoked  by  the 
re-awakening  of  the  mnemonic  element  immediately  pre- 
ceding. 

"It  is  then  in  development  even  more  than  in  mnemonic 
phenomena  properly  so  called  that  there  operates  the  law  of 
rigorous  succession,  in  which,  as  Ribot  says,  each  member 
of  a  series  produces  the  following."18 

Just  as  there  is  abridgment  of  every  memory,  so  there 
is  also  abridgment  in  the  recapitulation  of  ontogeny  by 
phylogeny.  (P.  351)  "In  fact  of  the  older  mnemonic  ele- 
ments constituting  the  germinal  substance,  the  strongest, 
that  is  those  which  are  represented  by  the  largest  quantity 
of  substance,  alone  persist.  The  less  strong  older  mnemonic 
elements,  the  total  quantity  of  nourishment  for  all  mne- 
monic elements  remaining  the  same,  or  varying  only  within 
definite  limits,  will  have  all  their  portion  of  nourishment 
taken  away  by  the  strong  older  mnemonic  elements  and 
by  the  newer  mnemonic  elements  whose  number  will 
continually  increase  with  each  phylogenetic  advancement. 
Not  being  able  consequently  to  regain  their  substance  com- 
pletely in  each  ontogenesis,  they  will  gradually  disappear." 

18  Ribot,  Les  maladies  de  la  memoire,  p.  8. 


34-8  THE  MONIST. 

Thus  ontogeny  becomes  not  a  full  but  only  an  abridged 
recapitulation  of  phylogeny. 

Further,  just  as  in  memory  the  time  factor  is  eliminated, 
so  in  ontogeny,  the  specific  germinal  accumulators  become 
activated  as  soon  as  the  conditions  permit  and  the  organism 
in  its  development  runs  through  in  a  few  days  a  series  of 
changes,  which  may  have  required  thousands  of  years  in 
phylogeny.  Just  as  in  memory  specific  mnemonic  elements 
may  become  activated  only  after  intervals  almost  life-long, 
so  the  specific  germinal  elements  will  become  activated  only 
in  the  ontogeneses  of  successive  generations.  Just  as  in 
memory,  reminiscence  does  not  exhaust  the  mnemonic  ele- 
ments, but  strengthens  them,  so  in  ontogenesis  the  repeated 
development  of  characters  fixes  them  in  the  germinal  sub- 
stance, and  palingenetic  characters  are  more  firmly  stamped 
upon  the  race  than  cenogenetic. 

In  this  hypothesis  of  specific  germinal  and  mnemonic 
elements,  accumulators  each  of  a  corresponding  specific 
nervous  influence,  Rignano  has  suggested  a  common  basis 
for  the  phenomena  of  memory  and  ontogeny,  which  ex- 
plains both  these  processes  and  unifies  them.  In  affording 
such  an  intelligible  explanation,  the  hypothesis  stands 
alone,  for  while  these  phenomena  have  been  among  those 
most  studied,  they  remain  among  the  most  marvelous  in 
biology,  or  perhaps  in  the  whole  field  of  human  knowledge. 
No  satisfactory  explanation  has  even  been  suggested  here- 
tofore, and  such  a  conception  of  them  as  Rignano's,  ex- 
plaining them  in  terms  of  physico-chemical  laws  already 
known,  will  be  welcomed  and  carefully  considered  by  all 
biologists  whose  work  has  led  them  to  feel  the  need  of 
such  explanations  and  to  the  conviction  that  they  must  rest 
upon  a  physico-chemical  basis. 

The  many  observations  which  have  been  made,  of  the 
resemblance  between  mnemonic  reproductions  of  the  like- 
ness of  former  things,  and  the  reproduction  in  an  embryo 


VITAL  PROCESSES  ACCORDING  TO  RIGNANO.  349 

of  the  likeness  of  its  ancestors,  which  heretofore  have  been 
vague  and  misty,  become  in  the  light  of  this  conception 
vastly  more  interesting,  and  become  also  vastly  more  sig- 
nificant and  valuable  to  science  in  its  search  into  their  es- 
sential character  and  into  the  nature  of  the  vital  process 
itself. 

(P.  355)  "In  summing  up  all  that  we  have  said  thus 
far  we  can  thus  affirm  that  if  the  mnemonic  phenomena, 
properly  so  called,  can  not  serve  to  explain  ontogenetic 
phenomena  nor  the  latter  to  explain  the  former,  the  resem- 
blance which  has  nevertheless  been  noted  by  so  great  a 
number  of  authors  can  be  explained  by  a  third  phenomenon 
more  general  and  more  simple  than  either.  And  this  phe- 
nomenon consists  in  the  faculty  possessed  by  all  living  sub- 
stance of  accumulating  and  repeating  individually  different 
particular  specificities  of  generic  nervous  energy,  and  this 
constitutes  the  essence  of  all  vital  phenomena  whatever." 

The  question  of  the  transmission  of  acquired  charac- 
ters is  treated  in  the  book  at  considerable  length,  the  author 
regarding  it  as  of  the  greatest  interest  and  importance. 
He  states  that  in  his  earlier  studies  he  was  inclined  to  re- 
ject the  Lamarckian  theory  largely  because  there  was  no 
conceivable  mechanism  available  for  an  explanation  of 
transmissibility. 

But  in  this  hypothesis  he  sees  a  way  by  which  func- 
tional stimuli  which  bring  about  somatic  modifications  may 
bring  about  corresponding  modifications  of  the  germinal 
substance  also,  understanding  by  the  term  functional  stim- 
uli of  course  the  stimuli  set  into  operation  within  the  organ- 
ism, and  not  the  external  action  of  the  environmental 
stimuli  which  provoke  them. 

For  if  the  stimuli  which  during  phylogeny  cause  the  ac- 
quirement by  a  species  of  new  characters  are  produced  in 
the  individual  organisms  as  a  result  of  the  action  of  ex- 
ternal environmental  stimuli,  then  this  hypothesis  affords 


35O  THE   MONIST. 

an  explantion  of  how  they  may  be  transmitted  to  the  ger- 
minal substance,  for  such  stimuli  passing  throughout  the 
entire  organism,  which  as  we  have  seen  is  one  vast  plexus, 
not  only  cause  in  some  parts  the  development  of  new  char- 
acters, but  also  cause  the  deposit  of  corresponding  specific 
accumulators  in  many  cells,  the  germ  cells  among  others. 
Those  deposited  in  somatic  cells  will  disappear  with  the 
death  of  the  individual,  but  those  in  the  germ  cell,  will  be 
in  a  position  to  effect  the  continuation  of  the  new  character 
in  the  species,  if  they  have  been  deposited  in  considerable 
mass,  as  a  result  of  the  action  for  a  long  time  of  a  persistent 
new  environmental  stimulus.  For  such  accumulators,  be- 
coming activated  when  the  development  of  the  organism 
which  they  produce  has  reached  the  stage,  corresponding 
to  that  at  which  the  new  character  was  acquired  in  phy- 
logeny,  will  cause  the  same  morphogenic  stimuli  to  be  dis- 
charged, which  acting  upon  the  developing  organism  will 
at  once  cause  it  also  to  develop  the  new  character. 

Other  phenomena,  such  as  atavism,  reversion  in  hy- 
brids, sexual  dimorphism  and  polymorphism  are  taken  up, 
but  it  must  suffice  here  merely  to  refer  to  the  book  for  a 
consideration  of  them.  Manifestations  of  these  properties 
by  living  organisms  is  shown  to  be  quite  in  conformity 
with  the  hypothesis  he  has  advanced,  and  to  find  in  it  some 
explanation.  The  author  continues  (p.  356)  : 

"It  remains  for  us  to  demonstrate  that  this  property 
as  we  have  affirmed  before,  can  aid  us  in  great  part  to 
explain  the  essential  characteristics  of  the  vital  phenom- 
enon itself  in  all  its  generality — that  is  assimilation." 

BASIL  C.  H.  HARVEY. 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CHICAGO. 

[TO  BE  CONTINUED.] 


HAS  THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  LABORATORY 
PROVED  HELPFUL?1 

THIS  is  a  question  stated  in  such  a  way  that  many 
people  will  find  in  its  very  statement  a  negative  reply. 
But  my  intention  here  and  now  is  to  put  a  question  without 
giving  the  answer,  to  state  a  problem  without  solving  it. 
It  is  something  indeed  to  state  the  question.  Were  I  to  give 
an  answer  it  would  demand  more  time  than  I  would  be 
justified  in  consuming.  I  will  not  give  the  external  history 
of  the  laboratories ;  this  would  avail  us  less  than  one  might 
think.  My  task  is  more  modest  or  more  pretentious  as  you 
prefer;  I  confine  myself  to  mental  impressions,  which, 
nevertheless,  can  bring  us  nearer  to  the  truth  than  history. 
How  many  times  an  institution  conceived  and  established 
in  a  certain  spirit  ends  by  working  in  a  different  spirit  to 
serve  still  another  spirit. 

A  psychological  laboratory ! — I  do  not  know  what  there 
is  in  the  shop,  but  it  must  be  admitted  that  it  could  not 
have  a  droller  sign.  You  may  say  I  am  jesting  but  there 
is  no  other  way  to  interpret  the  expression  than  somewhat 
after  this  fashion:  Here  ideas  are  manufactured,  volition 
is  distilled,  sentiment  is  created.  So  it  seems  that  even  the 
intent  and  the  conception  of  a  psychological  laboratory 
must  be  the  result  of  a  misapprehension  and  at  the  service 
of  this  misapprehension ;  it  seems  that  philosophy  has  noth- 

1  Address  delivered  on  September  4,  1908,  before  the  Third  International 
Congress  of  Philosophy  at  Heidelberg ;  translated  from  the  French  manuscript 
of  Professor  Billia  by  Lydia  G.  Robinson. 


352  THE  MONIST. 

ing  to  do  but  to  refrain  from  taking  interest  in  it,  or  per- 
haps to  enter  just  once  in  order  to  administer  charitable 
advice  and  to  give  the  savants  in  charge  of  the  laboratories 
a  little  instruction  in  modesty  and  prudence  by  making 
them  see  how  vain  and  deceptive  is  the  pretense  at  studying 
and  knowing  the  facts  of  consciousness  outside  of  con- 
sciousness, and  how  greatly  one  is  deceived  by  the  most 
pitiful  illusion  when  he  imagines  that  what  he  measures, 
what  he  pulls  and  pushes,  what  he  weighs,  and  what  he 
analyzes  by  the  aid  of  material  things  is  really  conscious- 
ness, thought,  sensation. 

But  in  this  task  of  removing  a  misconception,  we  soon 
meet  with  a  difficulty  which  proves  a  hindrance ;  or,  rather, 
restrains  us  for  the  time  being  and  makes  us  consider  the 
matter  once  more.  We  are  not  overawed  by  the  insolence 
of  those  who  appear  to  work  for  the  purpose  of  reducing 
the  facts  of  consciousness  to  the  measurement  of  material 
facts;  on  the  contrary  what  has  detained  us  is  the  good 
faith,  the  serious  spirit  and  the  useful  contributions  of 
others  who  are  true  experimenters.  With  what  right  are 
we  to  teach  modesty  to  modest  men,  logic  and  the  limits 
of  experimental  research  to  those  who  pursue  the  study 
of  its  logic  and  are  well  aware  of  its  limits?  When  we 
step  into  the  laboratories  of  the  Claparedes,  of  the  Flour- 
noys,  of  the  De  Sarlos,  of  the  Kiesows  (I  can  not  under- 
take to  make  the  list  complete)  we  find  ourselves  face  to 
face  with  men  who  tell  us  without  any  reservation  that 
they  are  in  search  of  facts  only,  that  they  do  not  work  in 
behalf  of  a  system  or  a  party  but  for  the  single  purpose  of 
contributing  to  the  knowledge  of  mental  facts.  These  are 
the  men  who  do  not  wait  for  our  reservations  to  assure  us 
that  they  have  never  pretended  to  tell  us  what  sensation 
is  or  what  thought  is,  nor  whence  they  originate,  but  only 
to  determine  some  conditions  of  the  nervous  system,  or 
the  organism,  and  even  of  the  environment  in  which  the 


IS  THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  LABORATORY  HELPFUL?      353 

facts  of  consciousness  are  produced  in  such  and  such  a 
way,  and  even  when  they  are  produced  or  when  not.  This 
has  impressed  us ;  it  has  disarmed  us ;  it  has  instructed  us. 

Further,  truth  has  nothing  to  fear  from  truths.  We 
have  readily  understood  that  this  serious  study  of  the  ex- 
ternal and  physiological  conditions  of  the  facts  of  the  soul 
would  have  brought  us  at  the  same  time  to  a  better  recog- 
nition of  these  facts  and  to  the  clearer  and  clearer  dis- 
tinction between  these  facts  and  their  permanent  conscious 
and  individual  principle  on  one  side,  and  on  the  other  of 
the  somatic  conditions  in  which  they  manifest  themselves. 

Finally,  there  is  no  other  point  in  question  than  to  be 
able  some  day  to  give  an  exact  solution  to  this  correspon- 
dence of  each  different  instant  which  obtains  in  the  con- 
sciousness of  every  person.  Formerly  I  tried  to  reduce 
this  correspondence  mainly  to  a  limitation  of  the  power  of 
reflection,2  which  becomes  manifest  in  the  consciousness 
even  of  philosophers  at  certain  hours  of  the  day  when  in 
a  state  of  fatigue,  exhaustion  or  intoxication,  and  which 
indeed  may  be  the  condition  of  the  whole  life  of  certain 
unfortunates  whom  we  call  fools,  simple  minded,  and  idiots. 
If  this  solution  could  be  reached  how  many  problems  would 
be  solved!  There  would  then  be  some  hope  of  carrying 
out  the  old  well-known  and  very  audacious  assertion  of 
Descartes  that  medicine  would  one  day  be  able  to  govern 
the  mind  and  the  character;  that  is  to  say,  to  deliver  hu- 
manity from  evil  and  disorder.  Education  would  no  longer 
have  to  struggle  continually  against  difficulties  and  recur- 
ring deceptions,  because  it  would  know  in  advance  what 
might  be  expected  of  each  individual  under  definite  condi- 
tions. 

This  is  a  matter  of  which  we  have  had  some  idea  for  a 
long  time.  We  might  even  find  precursors  of  psycho-phys- 

2  Lesioni  di  Filosofia  della  morale,  VII.  Rome,  Torino,  1897.  Ernest 
Naville  e  il  libero  arbitrio.  Rome,  Torino,  1900. 


354  THE  MONIST. 

ics  in  the  greatest  metaphysicians  of  earlier  days.  An  in- 
vestigation whkh  I  myself  have  made  with  the  intention 
of  proving  that  the  great  metaphysicians  were  also  great 
masters  of  observation,  has  led  me  to  discover  an  advanced 
psycho-physics  not  only  in  Rosmini  who  is  too  modern  to 
prove  my  point,  but  in  Malebranche  and  even  in  Plato.3 
That  which  was  then  still  lacking  and  could  not  be  expected 
until  the  science  of  to-day  and  of  the  future,  was  measure- 
ment and  exact  determination.  The  nearer  we  approach 
to  this  measurement  and  exact  determination,  the  more  we 
see  that  it  by  no  means  supplants  the  idea  of  the  mind  and 
of  its  action  upon  itself,  not  even  pretending  to  explain  its 
production,  its  origin  and  nature;  but  only  to  establish 
limits  and  conditions,  in  such  a  way  that  even  if  the  lab- 
oratory was  established  for  materialistic  purposes  its  tri- 
umphs and  its  most  serious  results  have  been  in  the  service 
of  spiritualism.  As  my  friend  M.  Adrien  Naville  has  said : 
"It  will  always  be  understood  more  clearly  in  proportion 
as  the  physiology  of  the  brain  progresses.  Anthropological 
monism  can  only  live  in  the  twilight.  When  physiologists 
shall  have  succeeded  in  expressing  in  definite  mechanical 
formulas  the  movements  of  the  cerebral  cells  which  are 
analogous  to  facts  of  consciousness,  no  one  can  insist  that 
these  facts  of  consciousness  are  the  same  thing  as  a  move- 
ment."4 

The  evident  conclusion  from  all  these  observations  and 
all  these  considerations  will  therefore  be  that  psychological 
laboratories  are  the  more  useful  and  conspicuous  an  aid 
to  the  study  of  the  mind  according  as  the  expectations  of 
the  scholars  who  looked  forward  to  them  are  more  modest, 
and  the  results  more  precise,  definite,  determined,  positive. 

But  there  is  a  train  of  ideas  which  carries  us  along  in 

3  Delle  dottrine  psicofisiche  di  Platone,  Modena,  1898 ;  Esti.  d.  Atti  d.  Acca- 
demia.  Delle  dottrine  psicofisiche  di  Nicolo  Malebranche,  Berlin,  1900.    L'esig- 
lio  di  S.  Agostino,  Turin,  1898. 

4  Revue  Scientifique,  Mar.  5,  1887,  p.  316. 


IS  THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  LABORATORY  HELPFUL?      355 

spite  of  ourselves.  We  have  seen  that  the  psychological 
laboratory  has  carried  the  materialist  and  the  positivist  in 
the  direction  of  spiritualism.  But  whither  is  the  spiritualist 
led  who,  disarmed  by  the  modest  and  earnest  bearing  of 
his  ancient  adversary,  enters  into  the  laboratory,  shuts 
himself  up,  and  abandons  himself  to  the  confident  expecta- 
tion of  finding  there  a  more  exact  confirmation  of  all  the 
truths  of  his  consciousness  and  one  more  suitable  for  per- 
suading others  ? 

I.  In  proportion  as  he  acquires  a  more  precise,  more  ex- 
act, more  definite  knowledge  of  physiological,  and  even  of 
physical  and  chemical  conditions,  in  which  and  under  which 
such  a  fact  of  sensation,  of  thought,  and  of  will  is  produced, 
he  runs  the  risk  of  losing  the  clear  vision  of  what  this  fact 
truly  is ;  very  much  as  those  literary  critics  who  are  better 
informed  about  the  exact  day  and  hour  of  Dante's  birth 
and  the  exact  spot  in  Florence  where  his  house  stood  and 
about  the  gate  of  the  town  from  which  he  departed  to  take 
his  flight  in  exile,  are  not  always  the  ones  who  best  pene- 
trate into  the  spirit  of  the  loftiest  of  poets.    By  seeing  that 
a  phenomenon  occurs  under  such  circumstances,  one  is 
led  to  believe  that  it  has  not  occurred  and  does  not  now 
occur  except  under  such  circumstances;  and  with  this  we 
have  now  come  back  to  the  prodigious  misapprehension 
of  a  fact  of  consciousness  studied  outside  of  consciousness. 
In  other  words,  in  spite  of  the  best  intentions  to  the  con- 
trary, psychology  itself  is  destroyed  by  the  psychological 
laboratory. 

II.  Again,  the  experiments  in  the  laboratory  give  us 
such  a  habit  of  considering  and  measuring  the  limitations 
of  our  power  of  feeling,  of  understanding,  and  of  willing, 
that  they  lead  us  to  forget  another  side  of  our  psychical 
life  which  is  no  less  a  true  side,  namely  liberty,  and  the 
power  of  passing  beyond  those  very  limits,  and  of  extend- 
ing our  faculty  of  feeling,  understanding  and  of  willing 


356  THE  MONIST. 

still  farther  beyond.  Certainly  to  find  an  exact  determina- 
tion of  the  physiological  and  physical  limits  of  our  intel- 
lectual and  volitional  operations  appears  to  be  a  great 
triumph,  but  in  the  first  place  who  said  that  this  determina- 
tion would  be  the  same  for  all  ?  or  that  it  always  results  in 
the  simple  combination,  that  a  being  given  as  the  sum- 
total  of  physiological  conditions  we  will  have  b  for  the  sum- 
total  of  psychical  conditions  and  that  each  change  which 
takes  place  in  a  leads  necessarily  to  the  same  change  in  b  ? 
This  indeed  would  be  a  most  comfortable  and  alluring 
theory,  but  here  is  where  consciousness  will  have  to  do 
with  facts  which  throw  a  great  suspicion  of  doubt  upon  this 
formulation.  Psycho-physical  correspondence5  is  not  at  all 
constant.  I  am  not  a  pragmatist  not  a  Bergsonian.  I  do 
not  say  that  it  defies  all  rule,  all  possible  determination, 
I  simply  say,  and  I  insist  upon  it,  that  it  is  not  confined 
within  the  limits  of  the  determination  furnished  by  the 
laboratories  or  through  the  laboratory  method.  For  in- 
stance, it  is  easy  to  admit  that  during  the  day  in  the  ordi- 
nary life  of  a  healthy  person  with  a  good  constitution,  and 
still  more  during  the  day  and  in  the  ordinary  life  of  a  person 
somewhat  delicate  and  ailing,  there  is  a  physiological  limit 
beyond  which  he  loses  the  power  of  reflecting  which  should 
operate  in  two  processes  becoming  more  and  more  painful 
and  finally  unbearable;  viz.,  the  effort  to  pay  attention  to 
a  long  and  complicated  series  of  ideas,  of  symbols,  and  of 
images,  or  of  circumstances  which  compel  a  decision  to  be 
made;  and  the  effort  to  fix  one's  mind  for  a  long  time  upon 
the  motives  which  persuade  us  to  endure  to  the  end  some- 
thing requiring  great  patience.  For  instance,  you  all  agree 
in  admitting  that  you  could  not  endure  the  tiresomeness 
of  my  discourse  for  three  hours,  and,  for  my  part,  I  could 
not  endure  certain  noises  for  a  few  consecutive  minutes 

B  Those  who  do  me  the  honor  to  grasp  my  thought  will  have  to  content 
themselves  with  the  word  correspondence.  Identity  would  indicate  too  much 
and  parallelism  too  little. 


IS  THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  LABORATORY  HELPFUL?      357 

without  being  greatly  disturbed.  They  say,  or  at  least  we 
are  constantly  besought  to  have  the  decency  to  believe,  that 
the  learned  physiologists  have  determined  by  exact  meas- 
urement the  intoxication  of  nerve  centers,  the  exhaustion 
of  nervous  and  muscular  force,  the  breaking  down  of  tis- 
sues, especially  in  the  brain,  which  corresponds  to  the  men- 
tal relaxation  as  its  only  cause. 

But  right  at  this  point,  if  many  facts  seem  to  justify 
these  conclusions,  other  facts,  less  numerous  to  be  sure  but 
well  established  and  authenticated,  give  the  lie  to  the  pre- 
tensions of  those  who  would  measure  exhaustion  if  they 
try  to  give  the  results  of  their  experiments  as  an  absolute 
and  universal  law.  If  a  tyrant  were  to  make  my  lecture 
last  four  hours  the  rest  of  you  though  reduced  to  extreme 
exhaustion  would  still  be  able  to  give  your  attention  to  a 
soothing  melody  which  some  solacing  spirit  might  cause 
to  resound  and  even  to  a  homelier  fanfare  from  the  street. 
However,  it  is  a  fact  of  almost  elementary  physiology  that 
because  of  the  multiplicity  of  vibrations  the  nervous  fatigue 
of  a  man  who  listens  to  the  best  of  concerts  is  far  greater 
and  far  more  exhausting  than  that  of  him  who  listens  to 
the  dullest  of  lectures. 

Soldiers  who  faint  from  thirst  and  fatigue  and  are  no 
longer  conscious  of  their  surroundings  will  throw  them- 
selves once  more  into  the  assault  if  they  are  made  to  be- 
lieve that  victory  is  sure  or  that  their  safety  rests  on  the 
condition  of  one  supreme  effort.  Those  who,  like  myself 
for  instance,  have  a  very  delicate  nervous  system  often 
experience  moments  of  such  exhaustion  that  they  require 
absolute  and  immediate  relaxation  and  repose.  There  must 
not  be  the  slightest  delay  for  this  recuperation,  no  noise, 
nor  any  effort  of  attention.  Now  if  under  these  conditions 
we  come  home  and  find  that  some  member  of  the  family 
has  suddenly  been  taken  ill,  that  a  child  is  in  danger,  that 
the  daily  paper  has  given  a  false  report  prejudicial  to  our 


THE  MONIST. 

scientific  or  political  reputation  or  to  our  party,  and  that 
its  refutation  cannot  be  postponed  later  than  the  edition 
of  the  following  morning,  we  are  at  once  ourselves  again, 
we  summon  our  forces,  our  attention,  and  we  postpone  our 
fatigue,  dismissing  all  thought  of  supper  and  bedtime. 

It  is  true  that  we  have  reserve  force,  but  this  only  suc- 
ceeds in  deferring  the  difficulty.  It  is  according  to  our 
discretion  that  we  draw  upon  these  reserves,  therefore  the 
limit  is  not  absolute, — or  if  there  is  an  absolute  limit  it  is 
not  the  physiological  limit ;  or  if  it  is  always  a  physiological 
limit  it  is  not  the  one  which  the  laboratories  determine  or 
are  able  to  determine. 

Please  consider  once  more  that  this  extension  and 
widening  of  limits  which  takes  place  suddenly  in  the  pres- 
ence of  a  motive  may  in  certain  individuals  indeed  become 
a  constant  exercise,  the  limits  to  be  extended  day  by  day, 
and  powers  of  feeling,  thinking,  and  willing  to  be  indefi- 
nitely increased.  The  laboratories  teach  us  these  limits. 
Consciousness  here  confronts  us  with  a  great  mystery; 
where  are  the  limits?  As  soon  as  the  limit  of  one  instant 
can  be  removed  to  the  instant  after  and  so  on,  is  there 
still  another  limit  in  this  power  of  extending  the  limit? 
I  state  the  question  but  I  do  not  expect  it  to  be  answered. 
I  have  only  to  say  that  this  is  the  great  question  of  psychol- 
ogy; I  have  only  to  say  that  the  laboratory  which  forgets 
it,  in  so  doing  destroys  psychology. 

To  be  sure,  to  give  us  an  idea  of  limits  which  is  per- 
haps instructive  and  wholesome,  may  render  us  more  dis- 
cerning towards  ourselves  and  towards  others,  may  give 
us  the  wisdom  to  avoid  claiming  the  impossible.  But  the 
habit  of  always  taking  physiological  limits  into  considera- 
tion may  also  stifle  the  consciousness  of  our  inner  powers, 
the  consciousness  of  the  power  of  the  mind  acting  with  an 
ideal  in  view.  More  discerning  alas !  But  it  has  also  given 
us  a  cowardly  habit  of  considering  certain  disorders  such 


IS  THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  LABORATORY  HELPFUL?      359 

as  debauchery,  drunkenness,  slavery,  war,  and  capital  pun- 
ishment, as  if  they  were  determined  by  external  and  or- 
ganic conditions,  and  to  forget  the  agency  of  liberty  and  its 
power  in  degenerating  as  well  as  in  upbuilding, — agency 
and  power  which  are  no  less  positive  facts  than  all  the 
physiological  determinations,  end  moreover  are  themselves 
the  determining  factors. 

III.  Finally,  the  psychological  laboratory  leads  us  to 
treat  mental  facts  as  external  objects  of  experimental 
research  and  curiosity.  But  mental  facts  are  not  that. 
The  mind  which  we  observe  is  nothing  else  than  we  our- 
selves who  live  and  ought  to  exist  in  a  certain  manner. 
The  question  is  not  to  see  how  some  one  or  some  thing 
operates.  The  important  thing  is  that  we  ourselves  should 
always  be  and  do  well, — always  better.  There  are  ex- 
periments which  should  not  be  performed  because  they  in- 
jure us,  deteriorate  us,  remove  us  farther  from  perfection. 
Only  those  experiments  should  "be  performed  which  in 
themselves  are  a  step  in  our  development.  Not  all  curiosity 
should  be  satisfied  because  its  satisfaction  is  at  our  ex- 
pense, because  it  is  on  ourselves  that  the  experiment  is 
made. 

A  bigoted  man  of  science  may  challenge  me  with  the 
scandalized  question:  Would  you  found  education  upon 
ignorance?  Not  at  all;  it  would  be  offensive  to  say  and 
absurd  to  think.  But  it  is  well  to  have  the  courage  to  state 
clearly  that  some  ignorance  is  an  indispensable  element  of 
education.  Why?  Precisely  because  at  bottom  human 
education  is  in  no  way  possible  unless  it  is  founded  on 
science,  which  is  at  the  same  time  both  the  means  and  the 
end  of  education.  Now  some  ignorance  is  the  indispensable 
condition  of  all  knowledge.  I  may  know  all  the  gossip  of 
the  town,  yet  I  will  be  very  ignorant  not  in  spite  of  this, 
but  on  account  of  it.  You  are  scholars  not  only  because 
of  the  attention  you  have  given,  but  also  because  of  that 


360  THE   MONIST. 

denied.  Whoever  wishes  to  acquire  a  practical  acquain- 
tance with  the  sights  and  especially  the  sensations,  of  cru- 
elty and  debauchery,  must  condemn  himself  to  ignorance 
of  decent  and  charitable  feelings,  or  at  least  of  the  noblest 
sentiments  of  mankind ;  and  vice  versa,  he  who  would  ac- 
quire a  true,  faithful  and  complete  knowledge  of  these 
must  needs  renounce  forever  not  only  the  practice  of  the 
wrong  things  but  knowledge  of  them  as  well.  Still  con- 
sidering the  lack  of  a  system  and  the  brevity  of  life  and 
other  hindrances  to  vast  knowledge,  it  is  by  no  means  im- 
possible to  form  a  truly  cultivated  mind  without  sacri- 
ficing a  great  deal  of  detailed  and  encumbering  erudition 
and  without  yielding  either  to  the  many  particulars  of  that 
form  of  presumptuous  ignorance  which  is  called  special- 
ism, or  to  a  large  part  of  the  medley  of  the  other  form 
which  may  be  called  encyclopedic.  We  owe  the  greatest 
portion  of  our  knowledge  to  books  that  we  have  read ;  but 
much  also  to  our  good  fortune  in  having  escaped  reading 
many  others. 

My  position  with  regard  to  these  observations  is  that 
of  a  (j)i\ofiaOrj<s  but  not  a  partisan ;  consequently  I  like  to 
consider  the  matter  in  all  its  aspects.  I  have  often  thought 
of  one  thing  which  seems  to  contradict  my  conclusions.  A 
large  part  of  the  studies  of  physicians  accustom  the  young 
men  to  a  familiarity  with  sights  which  on  account  of  their 
nature  and  circumstances  are  by  no  means  apt  to  cultivate 
respect  and  delicacy  of  feeling.  Nevertheless  being  ac- 
quainted with  many  physicians  I  have  no  right  nor  in- 
clination to  participate  in  the  unfavorable  opinion  of  them 
professed  by  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau — although  otherwise 
he  was  so  compassionate  in  his  writings;  for  I  have  ob- 
served it  to  be  an  undeniable  fact  in  the  case  of  many 
physicians  and  surgeons  that  they  have  preserved  and  cul- 
tivated as  delicate,  tender  and  sympathetic  a  heart  as  the 
gentlest  and  mildest  maiden.  I  have  observed  this  in  phy- 


IS  THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  LABORATORY  HELPFUL?      361 

sicians  and  surgeons  who  were  noted  for  having  held  the 
greatest  number  of  autopsies.  I  account  for  it  by  the 
mastery  over  impressions  and  feelings  held  by  a  mind  dom- 
inated by  the  idea  of  duty;  viz.,  a  strong  well-formed  and 
well-balanced  character  is  able  to  overcome  his  repugnance 
to  the  hideous  and  shocking,  precisely  for  the  purpose  of 
respect  and  goodness,  braving  the  repugnance  from  a 
higher  motive  when  there  is  need,  sacrificing  self  when 
demanded  by  justice  and  decency.  The  same  principle 
impels  the  good  physician  to  insert  the  knife  into  the  flesh 
and  inspires  him  to  endure  the  most  exacting  fatigue,  en- 
deavoring to  prevent  any  suffering  to  the  patient  rather 
than  avoiding  an  indecent  or  indelicate  sight. 

But  the  conclusion  I  draw  is  by  no  means  negative  or 
to  throw  doubt  on  the  preceding  considerations,  or  to  limit 
inquiry.  On  the  contrary,  this  is  my  conclusion:  Since 
medicine  alone  is  not  able  to  make  or  mar  the  man,  but  its 
task  is  most  critical,  and  the  physician's  aim  most  delicate 
and  sublime  (viz:  not  the  recovery  of  an  organ,  but  the 
health  of  the  man),  medicine  ought  finally  to  be  understood 
not  at  all  as  a  mercenary  trade,  but  as  a  priestly  office,  a 
mission  of  devotion  the  function  of  which  is  charity;  and 
we  should  require  of  the  physician  a  proportionately  moral 
superiority.  Whenever  found  it  is  reasonable  to  attribute 
this  superiority  to  individual  character;  and  to  doubt 
whether  the  discipline  and  curriculum  of  our  universities 
makes  any  provision  for  it. 

Psychology  is  not  the  same  kind  of  a  science  as  pure 
chemistry  or  pure  mathematics  whose  object  is  something 
else  than  the  subject  which  studies  and  observes.  Psychol- 
ogy is  the  science  of  ourselves  and  our  actions,  and  our 
actions  are  in  process  while  being  observed.  It  is  the  sci- 
ence of  the  self  and  nothing  can  be  observed  with  regard 
to  the  self  unless  it  be  the  self  or  a  part  of  the  self. 

I  do  not  think  in  the  least  that  I  am  the  first  to  make 


362  THE  MONIST. 

a  discovery  in  pointing  out  this  singular  condition  of  psy- 
chology which  distinguishes  it  from  all  other  sciences.  My 
purpose  is  only  to  call  the  attention  of  the  studious  to  a 
fact  which  should  not  be  forgotten  and  to  deduce  from  it 
a  conclusion  which  may  perhaps  be  new,  and  in  any  case 
stands  out  in  bold  relief.  No  science  changes  its  object:  the 
mathematician  makes  no  change  in  the  nature  and  rela- 
tion of  numbers ;  physicists  and  chemists  do  not  create  the 
phenomena  which  they  report.  If  accidentally  the  environ- 
ment disturbs  the  experiment  and  unexpected  composi- 
tions are  formed,  the  mistake  must  be  at  once  corrected 
and  the  disturbing  factor  removed.  Or  perhaps  a  new 
property  is  discovered  or  it  becomes  clear  that  it  is  im- 
possible to  make  the  experiment;  in  any  case  the  novelty 
of  the  phenomenon  is  not  attributed  to  the  experimenter 
simply  because  he  observes  it  and  makes  a  note  of  it. 

In  psychology  quite  the  contrary  is  true.  The  obser- 
vation that  is  made  of  the  facts  of  the  soul  does  not  leave 
the  facts  as  they  were  before.  If  I  perceive  that  I  am  ig- 
norant, I  am  no  longer  as  ignorant  as  I  was.  If  I  perceive 
that  I  am  wicked,  I  would  naturally  begin  to  overcome  a 
part  of  my  wickedness.  He  who  perceives  that  he  is  in 
love  is  no  longer  in  love  in  the  same  manner  or  the  same 
degree  as  he  was.  Perhaps  he  becomes  more  so,  perhaps 
less,  but  never  the  same.  He  who  nurses  his  passion  each 
day  and  each  hour  and  examines  it  with  a  critical  eye, 
either  causes  it  to  grow  to  the  loftiests  heights  or  else 
effaces  it  by  his  analysis.  Never  will  it  remain  the  same; 
never  would  he  be  able  to  say  to  himself,  "Up  to  this  point 
it  was  spontaneous;  afterwards  voluntary,  cultivated."  The 
spontaneous  to  which  consciousness  bears  witness  ceases 
to  be  spontaneous. 

It  is  for  some  purpose  that  we  are  woven  in  the  fabric 
of  self,  quite  simple  though  it  seems,  and  even  with  respect 
to  matters  which  we  deem  of  minor  importance.  If  I  per- 


IS  THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  LABORATORY  HELPFUL?      363 

ceive  that  I  am  sick,  perhaps  in  my  stomach,  I  become 
at  once  a  little  more  or  a  little  less  sick  than  before  and 
the  same  thing  is  true  if  I  perceive,  if  I  state,  if  I  declare 
that  I  am  recovered,  if  I  wish  to  recover.  Nothing  is  more 
real  than  the  diseases  which  are  called  imaginary.  If  this 
is  true  beyond  doubt  in  the  action  of  the  first  acts  of  con- 
sciousness, how  much  more  true  would  it  be  in  a  series  of 
acts  of  consciousness  purposely  continued,  of  attention,  and 
of  reflection,  such  as  form  the  subject  of  psychology?  Ros- 
mini  who  pointed  out  this  fact  long  before  and  much  more 
clearly  than  Wundt,  recognizes  here  one  of  the  difficulties 
of  introspective  observations,  and  a  less  fortunate  con- 
dition than  that  of  physical  observation.6  But  one  might 
as  well  conclude  that  psychology,  although  absolutely  lack- 
ing in  scientific  precision  as  it  is,  possesses  after  all  a 
greater  value  than  all  science.  Whether  harmful  or  be- 
neficent, psychological  study  would  never  be  useless  or 
indifferent.  It  is  quite  impossible  that  observation,  study, 
and  psychological  science,  or  the  concern  for  psychology, 
would  not  modify  profoundly  and  to  a  great  extent  the 
soul,  the  mind,  the  affections,  conduct,  and  finally  society 
itself  even  if  psychologists  would  not  assume,  even  if  they 
would  refuse,  the  character  of  apostles.  This  then  is  an- 
other source  of  the  considerations  which  lead  us  to  con- 
clude that  psychology  is  not  a  curiosity  such  as  laboratories 
make  it  or  may  make  it.  Nor  is  it  only,  as  puny  pedagogues 
teach,  preliminary  to  the  science  of  education;  it  is  edu- 
cation itself. 

In  the  self  one  should  not  admit  the  good  and  the  bad, 
the  higher  and  lower,  the  refined  and  the  common,  as  two 
varieties  equally  interesting  and  worthy  of  study,  but  only 
the  good,  the  higher  and  the  fine  should  be  admitted  and 
cultivated.  The  evil,  the  lower,  and  the  coarse  ought  not 
to  exist,  and  if  they  do  they  should  be  exterminated.  Psy- 

'  Logica,  p.  952. 


364  THE  MONIST. 

chology  is  not  a  curiosity ;  there  is  but  one  aim  of  science, 
perfection.  The  laboratory  forgets  this  fact  too  often.  I 
say  it  forgets,  and  do  not  refer  to  some  criminal  experi- 
ments which  are  not  mere  forgetting  or  due  to  ardor  and 
which  I  would  recommend  not  to  science  but  to  the  regular 
police  department.  But  even  in  simple  negligence,  even  in 
that  eagerness  which  has  made  of  psychology  a  research 
into  conditions  and  effects  without  consideration  of  en- 
deavor and  liberty,  one  may  say  that  in  spite  of  all  its  good 
intentions,  the  psychological  laboratory  destroys  psychol- 
ogy and  also  ethics. 

Should  then  the  laboratory  be  suppressed  and  its  doors 
closed?  Not  at  all.  I  have  said  that  I  would  state  ques- 
tions and  not  that  I  would  draw  conclusions.  I  would 
only  make  a  proposition.  It  is  not  necessary  to  suppress 
anything  or  to  close  anything.  It  is  necessary  to  uplift. 
Let  us  raise  the  standard  of  the  laboratory.  First  of  all 
it  must  become  truthful.  It  can  do  so  by  dispensing  with 
a  name  which  is  a  contradiction.  Psychology  does  not 
operate  in  a  laboratory.  The  true  laboratory  of  psychol- 
ogy is  nothing  but  consciousness. 

Here  I  shall  insert  a  parenthesis,  even  if  it  destroys  to 
some  extent  the  harmony  of  my  discussion,  in  order  to 
answer  in  advance  an  important  objection  which  may  be 
made  to  my  position.  Apparently  I  have  exposed  myself 
to  being  addressed  thus :  In  speaking  of  psychological  lab- 
oratories you  have  limited  your  attention  to  the  psycho- 
physiological  laboratories  which  measure  the  effects  and 
the  organic  conditions  of  mental  acts;  you  have  ignored 
or  neglected  those  other  laboratories  where  measurements 
are  not  taken  but  records  are  made  of  observed  facts,  of 
statistics;  as  for  instance  how  many  of  the  one  hundred 
individuals  who  daily  enter  the  same  door  would  be  able  to 
answer  accurately  questions  about  the  number,  size  or  ar- 
rangement of  the  windows  of  the  building?  Out  of  one 


IS  THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  LABORATORY  HELPFUL?      365 

hundred  pupils  in  a  school  how  many  will  we  find  who  are 
able  to  pay  strict  attention  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  etc., 
etc.? 

I  have  considered  the  point  well.  Measurement  and  the 
pretense  of  psycho-physical  equivalence  served  the  purpose 
of  my  argument  more  simply  and  clearly,  but  my  aim  was 
directed  against  every  attempt  to  study  the  facts  of  con- 
sciousness outside  of  consciousness.  There  are  three  points 
of  criticism  which  even  the  psychological  laboratories  that 
renounce  physical  measurements  in  favor  of  statistics,  do 
not  entirely  escape : 

1.  Psycho-statistical  researches  can  have  no  accuracy 
unless  they  take  into  account  the  organic  conditions  of  race, 
health,  development,  and  nutrition.    That  is  to  say,  out  of 
100  there  are  perhaps  thirty  who  pay  attention  and  seventy 
of  whom  not  one  would  have  any  opinion  except  with  re- 
gard to  how  long  it  was  since  he  had  a  meal,  whether  he 
slept  well  the  night  before,  whether  he  is  anaemic,  who  are 
his  parents,  where  he  comes  from,  how  his  stomach,  heart 
and  lungs  perform  their  functions.     Hence  psycho-statis- 
tical researches  have  no  value  unless  they  are  founded  on 
psycho-physical  investigation  and  measurements,  and  if 
they  depend  on  these  they  are  subject  to  the  same  criticism 
as  the  latter. 

2.  They  also  fall  under  the  criticism  of  making  a  curios- 
ity of  psychology  while  forgetting  that  its  purpose  is  edu- 
cation. 

3.  Statistical  psychology  having  for  its  aim  the  estab- 
lishment of  a  certain  determinism  also  leads  us  to  exag- 
gerate its  limits,  but  perhaps  a  little  less  than  physiological 
psychology.    Perhaps  it  can  also  give  us  some  idea  of  those 
who  exceed  the  ordinary  limits  and  stimulate  us  by  such 
examples  to  exceed  them  ourselves.    But  so  much  the  bet- 
ter.   I  do  not  wish  to  be  destructive. 

However,  the  fundamental  misapprehension  remains, 


366  THE  MONIST. 

— the  illusion  of  studying  outside  of  consciousness  a  fact 
which  takes  place  only  within  consciousness  and  which 
outside  of  consciousness  is  not  even  conceivable. 

Therefore  let  us  retain  and  preserve  experimental  in- 
vestigations on  the  nervous  system,  and  if  we  wish  to  keep 
the  name  of  psychological  researches  let  us  expand  them. 
Instead  of  confining  ourselves  to  studying  limits,  con- 
ditions leading  to  psychical  disorders,  or  even  to  provoke 
them  which  would  be  criminal, — let  us  study  in  conscious- 
ness the  power  of  the  mind,  endeavoring  to  see  to  what 
point  in  ourselves  we  can  cultivate  self-denial,  the  power 
of  attention,  growth,  development  of  faculties,  and  of  the 
hidden  varieties  of  feeling,  understanding  and  willing,  the 
power  of  abstraction,  devotion,  affection.  Let  us  care  for 
the  insane  and  the  sick,  but  let  us  cultivate  especially  he- 
roes, saints,  and  superior  beings. 

LORENZO  MICHELANGELO  BILLIA. 
TURIN,  ITALY. 


A  BIOCHEMICAL  CONCEPTION  OF  THE  PHE- 
NOMENA OF  MEMORY  AND  SENSATION. 

FROM  the  earliest  historical  epochs  to  the  present  day, 
philosophers  have  expended  a  considerable  proportion 
of  their  energies  in  framing  replies  to  the  question  whether 
mental  phenomena  are,  or  are  not,  capable  of  resolution 
into  law;  of  material,  that  is,  physical  or  chemical,  inter- 
pretation; of  exact  mathematical  analysis.  Not  only  phi- 
losophers, but  also  men  of  science,  and  others  addicted  to 
metaphysical  speculation,  have  added  their  quota  to  a  dis- 
cussion the  age  and  inconclusiveness  of  which  has  suffi- 
ciently demonstrated  its  sterility.  As  is  customary  in  meta- 
physical discussion,  the  answers  which  have  been  pro- 
pounded to  this  question  are  as  numerous  as  the  philos- 
ophers themselves.  From  the  dualism  which  regards  the 
mind  as  a  species  of  "gaseous  vertebrate"  dwelling  within 
but  not,  or  only  in  a  minor  degree,  subject  to  the  physical 
and  chemical  laws  which  govern  our  material  body,  to  the 
monism  of  Giordano  Bruno  which  regards  material  objects 
as  the  "shadows  of  ideas,"  the  mind  the  reality,  matter  the 
phantasm,  and  to  the  monism  of  Comte,  which  is  the  in- 
verse of  that  of  Giordano  Bruno,  every  transition  of  opin- 
ion can  be  found,  every  shade  of  formulation,  every  com- 
promise, and  every  absurdity  which  ingenious  imagination, 
untramelled  by  fact,  can  delude  itself  into  believing. 

One  by  one  the  problems  with  which  the  metaphysicians 
have  busied  themselves  in  the  past  have  been  wrested  from 


368  THE  MONIST. 

their  hands,  and  received  into  that  domain  over  which  fact 
and  not  hypothesis  rules;  the  domain  of  science.  And  it 
was  inevitable  that  this  ancient  question  must  ultimately 
also  acknowledge  the  suzerainty  of  science,  for  it  was  one 
which  experiment,  and  experiment  alone,  could  decide. 

Those  philosophers  who  postulated  the  superiority  of 
mental  phenomena  over  law,  their  freedom  from  the  in- 
variability of  sequence  and  consequence  which  character- 
izes material  phenomena,  and,  consequently,  their  immu- 
nity from  exact  formulation,  measurement,  and  material 
interpretation,  placed  themselves  in  a  position  of  consider- 
able insecurity,  for  a  single  experimental  proof  of  invaria- 
bility of  sequence  and  consequence  in  mental  phenomena 
would  set  at  nought  their  hypothesis  and  close  the  time- 
worn  discussion  for  ever;  the  outworks  once  stormed,  the 
citadel  of  their  belief  was  doomed.  This  is  why  the  exact 
and  laborious  investigations  of  Weber  and  Ebbinghaus, 
and  of  scores  who  have  succeeded  them,  have  definitely  an- 
swered the  question  of  the  independence  or  interdependence 
of  mind  and  matter  and  have  placed  science,  once  for  all, 
in  possession  of  the  realm  of  mental  phenomena — for  these 
investigators  have  demonstrated  that  sensation  and  mem- 
ory are  capable  of  measurement  and  that  they  obey  definite 
laws  susceptible  of  mathematical  formulation,  and,  there- 
fore, of  material  interpretation. 

But  belief  dies  hard,  and  conviction  of  the  futility  of  any 
discussion  is  a  product  of  slow  and  painful  growth,  and 
thus  it  happens  that  among  a  large  group  of  writers  and 
thinkers  (comparatively  few  of  them  biologists,  however), 
controversy  still  rages  over  the  question  whether  mental 
phenomena  will  ever  yield  to  the  all-conquering  methods 
of  science,  and  the  belief  still  holds  sway  in  that  last  out- 
post of  primitive  anthropomorphism,  the  "gaseous  verte- 
brate/' immanent  within,  but  independent  of  the  material 
organism. 


MEMORY,  SENSATION:  BIOCHEMICAL  CONCEPTION.  369 

It  is  possible  that  for  a  definite  closure  of  this  discus- 
sion, for  the  final  annihilation  of  the  naive  anthropomor- 
phism which  holds  humanity  in  thrall,  we  must  look  for- 
ward to  ages  coeval  with  the  realization  of  the  celebrated 
"world  formula"  of  Laplace. 

In  order  to  be  susceptible  of  scientific  measurement, 
of  comparison  with  standards,  any  quantity,  whether  it 
be  a  quantity  of  length,  mass,  heat  or  sensation,  must  be 
capable  of  being  perceived  directly  or  indirectly  by  the 
senses,  and  no  mean  portion  of  scientific  advance  consists 
in  the  opening  up  of  new  fields  of  research,  and  consequent 
knowledge,  through  the  invention  of  new  methods  of  bring- 
ing objects  before  the  senses,  and  thus  artificially  enhan- 
cing their  acuity. 

It  is  not  sufficient,  however,  that  the  object  to  be  meas- 
ured should  be  capable  of  being  brought  before  the  senses 
of  a  single  individual — it  must  be  capable  of  being  brought 
before  the  senses  of  universal  humanity;  the  phenomena 
observed,  and  the  quantities  measured,  must  be  capable  of 
indefinite  duplication  and  repetition;  for  the  evidence  of  a 
single  individual,  however  careful  his  investigation,  how- 
ever exact  his  methods,  and  however  sincere  he  may  be,  is 
valueless  from  a  scientific  standpoint  unless  the  data  con- 
stituting his  evidence  are  obtainable  by  all.  It  is  this  pos- 
sibility of  indefinite  reduplication  which  confers  upon  the 
data  of  science  their  certitude;  for  although  "a  plurality 
of  suffrages  is  no  guarantee  of  truth,"  yet  a  plurality  of 
evidences  is  a  guarantee  of  probability — and  the  whole 
edifice  of  natural  science  is  nothing  other  than  a  vast 
outgrowth  from  the  science  of  probability ;  in  itself  a  group 
of  inductions  from  universal  experience. 

Now  it  is  true  that  the  phenomena  of  our  mental  life 
are,  to  each  one  of  us,  individually  perceptible,  but  they 
certainly  are  not,  as  a  rule,  perceptible,  at  present,  to  uni- 
versal humanity.  The  mental  processes  occurring  in  A 


37°  THE  MONIST. 

are  certainly  very  real  and  perceptible  to  him  but  he  can- 
not, as  a  rule,  measure  them  by  any  standards  except  his 
own,  since  those  of  B  are  inaccessible  to  him.  Imagine  a 
piece  of  iron  which  is  conscious  only  of  its  internal  con- 
dition and  unable  to  compare  it  with  external  conditions, 
and  suppose  it  were  to  try  and  measure  its  own  length. 
It  might  do  so  by  fixing  upon  an  arbitrary  portion  of  itself 
as  the  unit  of  length,  and  then  perceiving  that  its  total 
length  was  a  certain  multiple  of  this  unit.  Suppose,  how- 
ever, that  at  some  subsequent  period  the  temperature  were 
to  increase,  and  the  piece  of  iron  were  to  endeavor  to  repeat 
the  measurement ;  its  length  would  have  increased,  because 
iron  expands  with  heat.  But  since  each  particle  of  the  iron 
undergoes  expansion  in  the  same  proportion,  the  piece  of 
iron  would  imagine  itself  unaltered  in  length,  since  its 
length  would  still  be  the  same  multiple  of  its  arbitrary  unit ; 
it  would  have  no  means  of  ascertaining  that  the  length  of 
its  unit  had  increased,  because  it  could  not  compare  it  with 
other,  external  units,  which  do  not  expand  as  the  tempera- 
ture rises. 

A  human  being  is,  as  regards  the  mental  phenomena 
which  occur  within  him,  very  much  in  the  position  of  this 
hypothetical  piece  of  iron.  He  is  at  the  same  time  the  ob- 
server and  the  observed,  that  which  measures  and  that 
which  is  measured,  and  his  conclusions  from  such  internal 
measurements  may  possess  an  individual  interest  but  are 
totally  devoid  of  scientific  value,  unless  the  measurements 
are  of  such  a  type  that  they  can  be  repeated  by  other  ob- 
servers external  to  himself ;  can  be  referred,  in  a  word,  to 
external  standards. 

But,  the  reader  may  inquire,  how  can  the  tenuous  en- 
tities of  thought,  sensation,  or  memory  be  compared  with 
external  standards  and  be  made  evident  to  the  senses  of 
universal  humanity?  How  can  the  chasm  which  divides 
our  internal,  mental  life  from  the  external,  material  world 


MEMORY,  SENSATION:  BIOCHEMICAL  CONCEPTION.  371 

ever  be  bridged?  The  answer  is  that  this  chasm  is  imag- 
inary; an  artefact  arising  from  our  peculiar  situation  of 
being  at  the  same  time  the  observer  and  that  which  is  ob- 
served; a  delusion  which,  it  is  evident,  must  be  the  inevi- 
table result  of  the  existence  of  consciousness  in  any  body 
whatsoever. 

Through  what  are  we  aware  that  human  beings  other 
than  ourselves  possess,  like  ourselves,  consciousness,  the 
ability  to  feel  sensations,  to  store  up  memories,  to  expe- 
rience emotions?  Simply  through  a  thousand  material 
signs,  which  we  note  and  interpret  just  as  we  note  and  inter- 
pret the  multitude  of  material  phenomena  which  assail  our 
senses  at  every  moment  of  our  life.  The  only  reason  why 
our  mental  life  appears  to  us  so  sharply  divided  from  the 
external,  material  world  is  that  we  each  possess,  regarding 
our  own  mental  life,  "inside  information."  Through  count- 
less sources,  by  way  of  a  thousand  nervous  channels,  a 
thousand  minute  chemical  changes  in  our  blood  or  in  our 
tissues,  we  possess  at  every  moment  a  vast  quantity  of  in- 
formation regarding  the  happenings  in  our  brain  or  spinal 
cord  of  which  the  external  observer  is,  at  present,  neces- 
sarily ignorant.  The  task  which,  in  this  territory,  faces 
science  to-day  is  that  of  inventing  means  of  throwing  open 
these  sources  of  information  to  the  senses  of  universal 
humanity;  of  making  available  for  comparison  and  meas- 
urements phenomena  as  yet  inaccessible,  buried  in  the 
consciousness  of  the  individual.  It  is  this  task  which,  as 
regards  sensation  and  memory,  has  been  successfully  ini- 
tiated through  the  labors  of  Weber,  Ebbinghaus  and  their 
successors,  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that,  by  methods 
however  devious  or  refined,  we  shall  ultimately  complete 
the  task  so  auspiciously  begun,  not  only  as  regards  the 
simpler  phenomena  of  sensation  and  memory  but  also  the 
most  complex  and  recondite  phenomena  of  our  mental  life.1 

1  It  is  obvious  that  the  above  considerations  remain  equally  valid  whether 


372  THE  MONIST. 

A  detailed  account  of  the  elaborate  investigations  which 
have  sprung  from  the  researches  of  Weber  and  of  Ebbing- 
haus  would,  save  to  the  specialist,  be  wearisome  in  the 
extreme;  but  the  main  results,  and  the  principles  under- 
lying these,  can  readily  be  stated  in  concise  form. 

It  is  a  matter  of  every-day  experience  that  we  cannot 
so  readily  perceive  a  slight  difference  between  the  strength 
of  two  stimuli,  when  the  stimuli  are  large  as  when  they 
are  small.  If  we  hold  in  our  hand  a  pound  weight  we  do 
not  perceive  a  noticeable  increase  in  the  sensation  of  weight 
upon  the  addition  to  it  of  a  tenth  of  an  ounce ;  but  if  the 
weight  which  we  are  holding  in  our  hand  is  an  ounce  then 
the  addition  to  it  of  a  tenth  of  an  ounce  will  call  forth  a 
perceptible  increase  in  the  sensation  of  weight.  In  a 
brightly  illuminated  room  the  light  of  a  candle  makes 
barely  any  perceptible  difference  to  the  apparent  illumina- 
tion, while  in  a  dark  or  poorly  illuminated  room  a  candle 
will  appear  to  afford  considerable  illumination.  During 
the  decade  1840-50  Weber  published  an  extensive  series  of 
investigations  upon  the  amount  by  which  a  stimulus  must 
be  increased  in  strength  in  order  to  produce  a  just  notice- 
able difference  in  sensation,  and  his  results  were  formulated 
in  the  well-known  Weber-law,  which  may  be  expressed  in 
words  as  follows:  "In  order  to  produce  a  just  noticeable 
difference  in  the  intensity  of  a  sensation  the  stimulus  must 
always  be  increased  in  the  same  proportion" ;  that  is,  if  we 
can  just  perceive  the  difference  between  the  weight  of  an 
ounce  and  that  of  eleven-tenths  of  an  ounce  then  we  shall 
be  just  able  to  perceive  the  difference  between  the  apparent 
weight  of  a  pound  and  that  of  eleven-tenths  of  a  pound. 

we  regard  the  universe  from  the  point  of  view  of  materialism  or  from  that  of 
psychomonism.  Either  point  of  view  involves  the  conception  of  the  essential 
identity  of  those  phenomena  which,  at  present,  are  accessible  only  to  individual 
consciousness  and  those  which  are  accessible  to  the  consciousness  of  universal 
humanity.  The  distinction  between  materialism  and  psychomonism  is  there- 
fore a  mere  verbal  quibble,  comparable  with  that  ancient  and  knotty  problem, 
whether  the  owl  first  originated  from  the  egg,  or  the  egg  from  the  owl. 


MEMORY,  SENSATION:  BIOCHEMICAL  CONCEPTION.  373 

If  we  can  just  perceive  the  difference  between  the  intensity 
of  illumination  afforded  by  a  sixteen  candle-power  lamp 
and  that  afforded  by  a  seventeen  candle-power  lamp,  then 
we  shall  be  able  to  just  perceive  the  difference  between  the 
illumination  afforded  by  a  thirty-two  candle-power  lamp 
and  that  afforded  by  a  thirty-four  candle-power  lamp.  If 
the  addition  to  any  given  weight  of  one-sixteenth  of  its 
amount  just  enables  us  to  perceive  an  increase  in  the  sen- 
sation of  weight  which  it  calls  forth,  then  we  shall  have  to 
idd  to  any  other  weight  whatever,  the  same  proportion, 
>ne-sixteenth  of  its  amount,  in  order  to  similarly  call  forth 
just  perceptible  increase  in  the  sensation  of  weight. 

Here  was  the  first  indication  of  a  definite  mathematical 
law  obtaining  in  the  realm  of  mental  phenomena ;  the  just 
noticeable  difference  in  sensation  was  found  to  be  a  definite 
mathematical  function  of  the  strength  of  the  stimulus  call- 
ing forth  the  sensation ;  mental  phenomena  were  delivered 
over,  once  for  all,  into  the  hands  of  the  scientific  investi- 
gator ;  the  law  of  invariable  sequence  had  again  prevailed. 

But  in  what  manner,  it  may  be  asked,  does  this  investi- 
gation differ  from  the  endeavor  of  the  hypothetical  piece 
of  iron,  alluded  to  above,  to  measure  its  own  length  ?  Who 
is  the  judge  of  a  "just  noticeable  difference  in  sensation" 
save  the  investigator  himself?  The  answer  is  that  the 
case  is  very  materially  different  from  that  of  the  hypothet- 
ical piece  of  iron,  in  that  the  observation  is  capable  of 
reference  to  external  standards.  It  is  true  that  the  sub- 
ject's consciousness  of  his  own  sensation  is  a  thing  which 
cannot  be  measured  by  any  other  standards  than  his  own, 
but  the  observer's  consciousness  of  the  subject's  sensation 
is  capable  of  being  measured  by  external  standards,  be- 
cause it  is  derived  from  some  material  sign  displayed  by 
the  subject.  It  is  this  material  sign  or  reaction  which  is 
actually  being  measured.  The  subject  is  required  to  say 
a  word  or  tap  a  key  which  closes  an  electric  circuit,  or  per- 


374  THE  MONIST. 

form  some  other  definite  preconcerted  signal  in  order  to 
notify  the  observer  of  the  fact  that  he  has  perceived  a  just 
noticeable  alteration  in  the  apparent  intensity  of  the  stim- 
ulus ;  but  he  is  not  conveying  to  the  observer  his  own  con- 
sciousness of  his  sensation,  derived  from  "internal  evi- 
dence" unavailable  to  the  observer.  He  is,  on  the  con- 
trary, conveying  to  the  observer  his  consciousness  of  the 
subject's  sensation,  that  is,  a  material  token,  differing  in 
no  sense  from  the  countless  material  tokens  wheref rom  we 
infer  that  our  fellow  beings  are,  like  ourselves,  sentient 
organisms,  and  upon  which,  were  it  not  for  our  "inside 
information"  regarding  our  own  cerebral  states,  we  should 
have  to  depend  for  all  our  cognizance  of  mental  phenom- 
ena. But  material  tokens  can  be  reduplicated,  recorded, 
and  they,  or  the  phenomena  leading  to  them,  can  be  meas- 
ured by  universal  standards;  whereas  our  internal  con- 
sciousness of  our  sensations  cannot.2 

In  i8853  Ebbinghaus  published  a  series  of  investiga- 
tions upon  memory  by  means  of  which  he  demonstrated 
that  this  apparently  intangible  quantity  could  also  be  sub- 
jected to  measurement.  In  order  to  exclude  the  distracting 
influence  of  the  associations  called  up  by  the  meaning  at- 
tached to  words,  he  used,  as  material  for  learning,  syllables 
each  composed  of  three  letters  and  devoid  of  any  linguistic 
significance  whatever.  A  variable  number  of  syllables 
were  repeated  until  the  first  perfect  repetition  was  secured. 
In  the  accompanying  table  are  given  his  results,  although 

2  The  statement  which  is  to  be  found  in  some  psychological  literature,  that 
the  perception  of  the  "just  noticeable  difference"  in  the  apparent  intensity  of 
a  stimulus  involves  a  judgment  upon  the  part  of  the  subject,  is  simply  an  ex- 
ample of  that  endless  series  of  judgments,  judgments  upon  judgments,  judg- 
ments upon  judgments  upon  judgments,  etc.,  the  simultaneous  existence  of 
which,  within  his  own  consciousness,  any  one  can  readily  persuade  himself  by 
a  few  minutes  of  introspection.  Thus  "I  know"  being  granted,  there  can  be 
no  question  that  "I  know  that  I  know,"  while  the  proposition  "I  know  that  I 
know  that  I  know"  is  equally  incontrovertible,  and  I  could  not  have  written 
this  had  I  not  known  that  I  know  that  I  know  that  I  know;  and  thus  this 
highly  unprofitable  concatenation  of  unrealities  can  be  extended  ad  absurdum. 

*H.  Ebbinghaus,  Ueber  das  Gedachtniss,  Leipsic,  1885. 


MEMORY,  SENSATION:  BIOCHEMICAL  CONCEPTION.  375 

he  did  not  succeed  in  expressing  them  in  the  form  of  a 
definite  mathematical  equation. 

TABLE  I. 

Number  of  repetitions  until  Number  of  syllables  in  the 

the  first  perfect  repetition.  series  repeated. 

1  7 

16.6  12 

30  16 

44  24 

55  26 

The  services  thus  rendered  by  Weber  and  by  Ebbing- 
haus  to  psychology  consisted,  however,  not  only  in  re- 
ducing certain  mental  phenomena  to  quantitative,  mathe- 
matical standards,  but  also  in  pointing  out  methods  whereby 
measurements  can  be  secured  under  constant  experimental 
conditions.  Given  a  constant  condition  of  the  subject  du- 
ring a  period  of  the  experiment  -( absence  of  fatigue  etc. ) 
and  a  constant  rate  of  increase  or  decrease  in  the  intensity 
of  the  stimulus  (instantaneous),  the  only  quantities  vary- 
ing throughout  Weber's  experiment  are  the  intensity  of 
the  stimulus  and  a  just  perceptible  alteration  in  its  appa- 
rent intensity.  Thus  we  are  enabled  to  ascertain  the  man- 
ner in  which  the  one  varies  with  the  other ;  we  are  enabled 
to  ascertain,  not  only  that  the  just  noticeable  difference  in 
sensation  is  a  function  (in  the  mathematical  sense)  of  the 
strength  of  the  stimulus  (i.  e.,  that  the  just  noticeable 
difference  in  sensation  varies  when  the  strength  of  the 
stimulus  varies),  but  we  are  enabled  to  ascertain  the  pre- 
cise character  of  the  function,  to  formulate  it  in  mathe- 
matical symbols  thus:  dR/R  =  k.dS  where  (dR)  is  the 
increase  in  the  stimulus  of  strength  (R)  which  gives 
rise  to  a  just  noticeable  difference  (dS)  in  the  sensation 
and  (£)  is,  under  the  conditions  of  the  experiment,  a  con- 
stant. Were  the  experiment  of  such  a  character  that  the 


376  THE  MONIST. 

number  of  variable  quantities  could  not  be  controlled  in 
the  manner  outlined  above,  so  that  three  or  more  quantities 
varied  simultaneously  during  the  experiment,  then  the 
problem  of  ascertaining  the  function  connecting  these  vari- 
ables would  be  much  more  difficult  or  even  impossible.  As 
we  have  seen,  Ebbinghaus,  by  inventing  ingenious  meth- 
ods of  measuring  memory,  has  not  only  shown  that  quan- 
tity of  memory  is  a  function  of  the  time  spent  in  learning, 
which  is  a  matter  of  common  knowledge,  but  has  furnished 
us  with  data  which,  as  we  shall  see,  enable  us  to  ascertain 
the  exact  nature  of  this  function.  Similarly,  as  Loeb  has 
pointed  out,4  instincts  are  functions  of  the  tropisms,  but 
here  extended  research  has  still  to  be  performed  in  order 
to  learn  how  to  eliminate  adventitious  variables  and  thus 
enable  us  to  ascertain  the  exact  nature  of  the  functions. 

This  is  the  invariable  procedure  of  science :  first,  meth- 
ods are  found  of  measuring  or  detecting  the  variables  in- 
volved ;  next,  methods  are  sought  to  isolate  as  few  as 
possible  of  these  variables  and  determine  whether,  and  in 
what  manner,  they  depend  upon  one  another  (in  other 
words,  what  functions  they  are  of .  one  another)  and  then 
to  admit  more  variables,  as  few  as  possible  at  the  time,  in 
order  to  determine  in  what  manner  these  additional  vari- 
ables affect  the  relations  subsisting  between  those  origi- 
nally chosen ;  thus  proceeding  from  the  simple  to  the  com- 
plex, the  particular  to  the  general.  This  is  the  reverse  of 
the  procedure  of  the  metaphysicians  who,  ignoring  the 
particular  in  the  search  for  the  general,  forget  that  the 
general  is  simply  an  anastomosis  of  particulars  and  that 
our  knowledge  of  the  general  is  therefore  necessarily  con- 
terminous with  our  knowledge  of  each  of  the  particulars, 
of  the  functions  connecting  them  and  of  the  manner  in 
which  they  anastomose.5 

4  Cf.  J.  Loeb,  Comparative  Physiology  of  the  Brain  and  Psychology.   New 
York,  1900,  chap.  XIII. 

5  "The  aim  of  research  is  the  discovery  of  the  equations  which  subsist 


MEMORY,  SENSATION:  BIOCHEMICAL  CONCEPTION.  377 

The  data  obtained  by  the  methods  outlined  above,  alone 
constitute  scientific  knowledge.  When  we  have  determined, 
and  can  express  in  mathematical  symbols,  the  function 
connecting  two  variables  we  have  obtained  all  the  knowl- 
edge that  can  be  obtained  regarding  these  two  variables 
per  se\  but  these  methods  alone  do  not  lead  us  very  far. 
The  senses,  unaided  by  the  imagination,  or  by  a  knowledge 
of  phenomena  cognate  to  those  under  investigation,  seldom, 
and  then  only  by  accident,  perceive  variables  or  relations 
subsisting  between  variables  other  than  those  of  the  most 
obvious  description.  It  is  here  that  the  legitimate  use  of 
the  scientific  hypothesis  is  found.  The  scientific  hypothesis 
is  to  be  valued,  not  necessarily  for  its  intrinsic  truth,  but 
for  the  fidelity  with  which  it  represents  known  phenomena, 
for  the  relations  between  variables  which  it  indicates,  for 
the  hitherto  hidden  facts  which  it  leads  us  to  ascertain. 
An  hypothesis  is  to  the  scientific  discoverer  what  his  tel- 
escope is  to  an  explorer;  it  leads  him  to  investigate  new 
horizons,  suggests  to  him  possibilities  beyond  the  reach  of 
his  unaided  vision,  stimulates  him  to  fresh  explorations. 
True,  what  he  sees  on  the  far  horizon  may  only  be  the 
mirage,  but  he  is  stimulated  thereby  to  research,  and  the 
result  is  that  a  fresh  area  is  triangulated,  a  blank  space 
upon  the  map  is  filled  in.6 

between  the  elements  of  phenomena";  Ernst  Mach,  "The  Economical  Nature 
of  Physics,"  Popular  Scientific  Lectures,  Chicago,  Open  Court  Publishing  Co,, 
1896,  p.  205. 

8  It  may  here  be  pointed  out,  in  order  to  remove  some  prevailing  miscon- 
ceptions regarding  science,  that  scientific  controversy  invariably  rages  over 
hypotheses  and  not  over  scientific  knowledge,  i.  e.,  ascertained  facts  or  func- 
tions. The  controversy  is,  however,  frequently  more  stimulating  than  the 
rival  hypotheses  themselves,  and  may  result  in  the  unearthing  of  a  vast  body 
of  facts  which  otherwise  might  not  have  been  brought  to  light  for  a  protracted 
period.  Controversy  over  scientific  knowledge  is  almost  unknown  to  the  his- 
tory of  science.  True,  observations  are  frequently  made  which  are  erroneous, 
but  a  subsequent  observer  invariably  corrects  the  error  of  his  predecessor. 
Every  published  experiment  is  repeated  indefinitely,  and,  should  difference  of 
opinion  regarding  an  observation  exist,  it  is  almost  immediately  set  at  rest  by 
an  overwhelming  majority  of  affirmations  upon  one  side  or  upon  the  other. 
Instances  wherein  facts  have  been  the  subject  of  prolonged  controversy  are  so 
rare  in  the  history  of  science  that  each  instance  is  unique.  A  remarkable 
example  of  this  rare  class  of  discussion  is  that  which  took  place  over  the  so- 


3/8  THE  MONIST. 

It  is  a  remarkable  fact  that  the  results  obtained  by 
Weber  and  Ebbinghaus  have,  beyond  a  few  immediate 
applications,  done  very  little  to  extend  our  knowledge  of  the 
field  of  mental  phenomena  beyond  that  knowledge  which 
was  conveyed  in  the  results  of  their  own  investigations. 
The  field  has  been  remarkably  sterile,  barren  of  sugges- 
tions and  results.  True,  a  vast  number  of  minute  and 
laborious  investigations  have  been  made  upon  the  lines 
laid  down  by  Weber  and  Ebbinghaus,  but  their  result  has 
been  almost  exclusively  to  confirm  and  amplify  the  results 
obtained  by  those  observers.  The  reason  for  this  is,  I 
think,  to  be  sought  in  the  almost  total  absence  of  scientific 
hypotheses  from  the  literature  published  by  Weber,  Eb- 
binghaus, and  their  successors.  "The  unf  ruitf  ulness  of  brain 
investigation  is  due,  however,  only  partially  to  the  diffi- 
culty of  the  matter.  The  main  cause  seems  to  be  the  entire 
absence  of  any  working  hypothesis,  or  even  an  approxi- 
mate idea,  as  to  the  nature  of  cerebral  activity."7  Scien- 
tific investigation  deprived  of  scientific  hypothesis  leads 
to  an  indefinite  reduplication  of  similar  results,  an  indefi- 
nite and  sterile  refinement  of  method  and  technique,  and, 
finally,  to  the  exhaustion  of  the  field  of  research,  until  the 
discovery  of  entirely  fresh  methods,  or  the  invention  of 
hypotheses,  opens  up  new  fields  of  research,  indicates  un- 
suspected possibilities,  relations  hitherto  undetected. 

In  what  direction  can  we  look  for  such  a  working- 
hypothesis  in  the  field  of  psychology  ?  As  Loeb  has  pointed 
out8  valuable  clues  are  afforded  by  the  tropisms.  I  believe 
that  clues  of  equal  value  are  afforded  by  the  phenomena  of 
memory;  I  will  here  only  treat  of  the  latter. 

called  "n-rays";  their  existence  was  repeatedly  affirmed  and  denied  until  the 
situation  became  intolerable  and  a  host  of  investigators  intervened  to  settle  the 
dispute.  The  result  of  their  labors  was  the  obliteration  of  the  n-rays  and  no 
one,  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  positively  affirms  their  existence  to-day.  Cf.  an 
article  by  H.  Pieron,  "Grandeur  et  decadence  des  rayons  N,"  L'Annee  psycho- 
logique,  1907,  p.  143. 

7F.  A.  Lange,  History  of  Materialism,  Vol.  3,  p.  112. 

8  J.  Loeb,  Comparative  Physiology  of  the  Brain  and  Psychology. 


MEMORY,  SENSATION:  BIOCHEMICAL  CONCEPTION.  379 

The  phenomenon  which  we  colloquially  designate  mem- 
ory but  which,  scientifically,  might  be  more  appropriately 
termed  "associative  hysteresis"9  may  be  expressed  thus: 
Certain  mental  phenomena  occur  more  readily  as  a  re- 
sult of  their  previous  occurrence.  The  mental  phenom- 
enon which  we  term  the  cognizance  of  a  word  renders 
more  easy  the  repetition  of  that  cognizance — we  remember 
the  word,  that  is,  we  can  call  up  its  image  or  sound  so 
readily,  after  a  certain  number  of  repetitions,  that  we  can 
finally  dispense  with  the  external  image  of  the  word  alto- 
gether. 

Various  attempts  have  been  made,  of  which  the  best 
known  are  those  of  Gall  and  Munk,10  to  explain  the  phenom- 
ena of  memory  upon  a  structural  basis.  According  to  these 
investigators  each  memory-image  is  localized  in  a  partic- 
ular ganglion-cell  in  the  brain  and  is  represented  therein 
by  a  definite  structure.  This  hypothesis  has,  however, 
proved  completely  sterile;  no  adequate  evidence  of  this 
physical  localization  of  memories  has  ever  been  adduced, 
even  by  its  most  enthusiastic  exponents,  while  numerous 
phenomena  are  in  flagrant  contradiction  with  the  hypoth- 
esis.11 Moreover,  even  if  such  a  structural  modification 
occurs  in  the  brain,  it  must  be  preceded  by  physical  and 
chemical  changes  in  the  cerebral  tissues,  and  it  is  therefore 
to  physical  and  chemical  phenomena  that  we  must,  what- 
ever hypothesis  is  adopted,  look  for  the  origin  of  the  mem- 
ory-trace. 

For  various  reasons,  which  I  cannot  dwell  upon  here, 
a  purely  physical  explanation  of  the  formation  of  the 
memory-trace  must  be  excluded12  and  the  search  for  a 
working-hypothesis  regarding  the  formation  of  the  mem- 

*  J.  Loeb,  Arch.  f.  d.  ges.  Physiol,  115,  1906,  p.  564. 

"Munk,  Ueber  die  Funktionen  der  Gehirnrinde,  Berlin,  1881. 

11  Cf.  J.  Loeb,  Comparative  Physiology  of  the  Brain  and  Psychology. 

u  Cf.  T.  Brailsford  Robertson,  Archives  Internationales  de  Physiologic,  6, 
1908,  p.  433. 


380  THE  MONIST. 

ory-trace  narrows  down  to  the  question:  What  chemical 
phenomena  are  known  which  take  place  more  readily  in 
consequence  of  having  already  occurred  ?  To  answer  this 
question  we  must  make  a  short  digression. 

I  have  no  doubt  that  the  majority  of  my  readers  have 
heard  of  "catalysors,"  or,  at  any  rate,  of  those  catalysors 
which  occur  in  the  living  organism  and  are  termed  "fer- 
ments'7 ;  but  I  suspect  that  very  few  have  an  accurate  con- 
ception of  what  a  catalysor  is. 

A  catalysor  is  a  substance  which,  when  added  to  a 
mixture  of  chemical  substances  which  are  undergoing  a 
chemical  reaction,  accelerates  the  reaction.  It  does  not 
initiate  the  reaction,  it  cannot  start  a  chemical  reaction 
which  would  not  otherwise  occur,  but  it  accelerates  the  re- 
action which  is  already  taking  place,  by  removing  some 
resistance  which  hinders  its  progress.  A  catalysor  is  to 
a  chemical  reaction  what  axle-grease  is  to  the  rotation 
of  a  wheel;  it  removes  the  friction  which  prevents  its 
rapid  progress.  The  mechanism  whereby  the  catalysor 
accelerates  the  reaction  is,  in  most  cases,  perfectly  well 
understood,  and  the  phenomena  of  catalysis  can  be,  and 
are,  reduced  to  mathematical,  i.  e.,  functionalistic  terms; 
the  catalysors  or  ferments  occurring  in  the  living  organism 
differ  in  no  essential  from  ordinary,  inorganic  catalysors, 
and  their  action  obeys  the  same  laws. 

A  catalysor  does  not  accelerate  every  chemical  reac- 
tion; each  catalysor  accelerates  a  given  reaction  or  group 
of  reactions;  thus  zinc  accelerates  (i.  e.,  catalyses)  the 
transformation  of  alcohol  into  formaldehyde;  finely  di- 
vided gold,  platinum,  or  charcoal,  accelerate  the  decom- 
position of  hydrogen  peroxide  into  water  and  oxygen; 
acids  accelerate  the  transformation  of  starch  into  sugar; 
the  ferment  pepsin,  which  occurs  in  the  stomach,  accel- 
erates the  chemical  decomposition  of  the  proteins  of  our 
food, — the  list  might  be  prolonged  indefinitely. 


MEMORY,  SENSATION:  BIOCHEMICAL  CONCEPTION.  381 

There  are  certain  reactions,  however,  which  produce 
their  own  catalysors;  that  is,  one  of  the  products  of  the 
chemical  transformation  accelerates  its  progress.13  It  is 
easy  to  see  what  must  happen  in  such  a  case ;  the  reaction 
proceeds  slowly  at  first  but,  as  it  continually  produces  more 
and  more  catalysor,  it  proceeds  more  and  more  rapidly 
until,  as  it  approaches  completion,  that  is,  as  the  material 
undergoing  transformation  gets  used  up,  the  reaction  grad- 
ually slows  off.  Thus  the  curve  expressing  the  relation 
between  the  amount  of  material  transformed,  and  the  time, 
is  j -shaped,  expressing  the  fact  that  the  reaction  proceeds 
at  first  slowly,  then  more  rapidly  and  then,  again,  more 
slowly.  This  curve  furthermore  expresses  the  fact  that 
the  amount  of  transformation  is  a  definite  function  of  the 
time,  a  function  which  can  readily  be  expressed  in  mathe- 
matical terms.  The  essential  feature  of  such  a  reaction 
is  that  it  takes  place  more  readily  as  a  result  of  having 
already  taken  place  to  a  certain  extent. 

Are  there  any  indications  of  chemical  transformations 
such  as  these  occurring  in  living  organisms?  The  an- 
swer is  in  the  affirmative ;  the  chemical  phenomena  under- 
lying cell-division  and  growth  are  of  this  character14  and 
it  has  been  pointed  out  that  the  phenomena  underlying 
muscular  contraction  are  of  this  description.15  As  an  ex- 
ample of  such  chemical  transformations  in  the  central  ner- 
vous system  I  may  cite  the  following. 

"The  "spontaneous"  oxidation  or  "tarnishing"  which  many  metals  un- 
dergo when  exposed  to  the  air  is  a  reaction  of  this  type. 

14  As  regards  cell-division,  cf.  J.  Loeb,  Biochemische  Zeitschrift  2,  1906, 


Charakter  des  Befruchtungsvorganges  und  seine  Bedeutung  fiir  die  Theorie 
der  Lebenserscheinungen."  Leipsic,  1907. 

Wolfgang  Ostwald  and  I  independently  and  very  nearly  simultaneously 
pointed  out  that  growth  is  also  a  phenomenon  of  this  character.  Cf.  T.  Brails- 
ford  Robertson,  Archiv  fur  Entwicklungsmechanik  der  Organismen,  25,  1908, 
p.  581;  26,  1908,  p.  108.  Wolfgang  Ostwald,  Vorlrdge  und  Aufs'dtze  iiber  Ent- 
wicklungsmechanik, Heft  V,  Leipsic,  1908. 

15  T.  Brailsford  Robertson,  Biochemische  Zeitschrift,  Festband  fiir  H.  J. 
Hamburger,  1908,  p.  287. 


382  THE  MONIST. 

It  is  well  known  that  the  rhythmic  movements  of  res- 
piration are  primarily  controlled  by  the  medulla  oblongata, 
or  lower  part  of  the  brain.  It  is  a  classical  fact  of  mamma- 
lian physiology  that  injury  to  a  certain  portion  of  the  me- 
dulla results  in  instant  cessation  of  respiration,  and  that 
circumstances  affecting  the  condition  of  the  medulla  (i.  e., 
heating,  cooling,  etc.)  profoundly  affect  the  character  of 
the  respiratory  movements.  Nearly  every  living  tissue 
produces,  as  a  result  of  its  activities,  carbonic  and  lactic 
acids,  and  there  is  no  reason  to  suppose  that  cerebral  tissue 
differs  from  other  tissues  in  this  particular.  In  fact  I 
have  shown,  and  others  have  shown,  by  different  methods, 
that  acid  is  developed  in  the  brain  as  a  result  of  stimu- 
lating sensory  nerves.16  Now  it  is  a  familiar  fact  that 
in  suffocation  the  respiratory  movements  at  first  increase 
enormously  in  force  and  rapidity;  the  suffocating  animal 
or  man  "gasps  for  breath/'  What  is  the  essential  feature 
of  suffocation?  The  blood  can,  for  some  reason  or  other, 
no  longer  be  ventilated  in  the  lungs,  carbonic  acid  gas 
cannot  escape  from  the  body  and,  consequently,  the  con- 
centration of  carbonic  acid  in  the  blood  and  in  the  tissues 
increases.  As  we  have  seen,  the  result  of  this  is  an  increase 
in  the  velocity  and  force  of  the  respiratory  movements,  and 
it  is  an  obvious  possibility  that  this  increase  in  the  rate  of 
the  respiratory  movements  is  due  to  a  direct  action  of  the 
carbonic  acid  in  the  blood  upon  the  tissues  of  the  medulla 
oblongata.  When  one  acid  accelerates  a  chemical  reac- 
tion others  usually  do  so,  and,  in  confirmation  of  the  view 
expressed  above,  I  have  shown  that  when  dilute  acids  are 
directly  applied  to  the  medulla  of  a  frog,  a  marked  increase 
in  the  rate  of  its  respiratory  movements  takes  place,  often 
amounting  to  several  hundred  percent.17  Here  we  have 

"  T.  Brailsford  Robertson,  Archives  Internationales  de  Physiologic  6,  1908, 
p.  388. 

17  T.  Brailsford  Robertson,  loc.  cit. 


MEMORY,  SENSATION:  BIOCHEMICAL  CONCEPTION.  383 

an  obvious  parallel  to  the  self-catalysed  chemical  reactions 
described  above.  Acid  is  produced  in  the  activity  of  cer- 
ebral tissue  and  acids  accelerate  its  activity. 

Here  we  have,  also,  the  obvious  suggestion  of  a  work- 
ing-hypothesis of  memory.  During  the  perusal,  for  ex- 
ample, of  a  printed  word,  acid  is  produced  in  some  por- 
tion of  the  cerebral  tissue,  hence  the  word  is  more  readily 
repeated  until,  after  a  certain  number  of  repetitions,  we 
can  dispense  with  the  external  stimulus  of  the  printed 
word  and  repeat  the  process  of  cognition  spontaneously.* 

It  is  easy  to  show,  but  I  will  not  here  venture  upon  the 
necessary  mathematics,  that,  for  a  limited  number  of  syl- 
lables, it  follows  from  the  above  hypothesis,  namely,  that 
the  extent  of  the  memory-trace  is  proportional  to  the 
amount  of  material  transformed  in  a  self-catalysed  chem- 
ical reaction,  that  the  number  of  syllables  memorized  must 
be  connected  with  the  number  of  repetitions  (or  time  of 
learning)  according  to  the  following  function: 

log  n  =  Kr+t> 

where  n  is  the  number  of  syllables  memorized,  r  is  the 
number  of  repetitions,  and  K  and  b  are  constants  (that  is, 
do  not  vary  when  n  and  r  vary). 

We  have  seen  that  the  measurements  of  Ebbinghaus 
have  placed  in  our  hands  exact  data  concerning  the  de- 
pendence of  the  number  of  syllables  learnt,  upon  the  number 
of  repetitions.  For  a  given  number  of  repetitions  we  can, 
from  the  above  formula,  calculate  how  many  syllables 
should,  were  our  hypothesis  correct,  be  memorized — in  the 
following  table  these  theoretical  deductions  from  our  hy- 
pothesis and  the  data  actually  obtained  by  Ebbinghaus  are 
compared : 

*) Since  the  above  was  written  I  have  found  that  Wilh.  Ostwald  (Vor- 
lesungen  iiber  Natur-Philosophie,  Leipsic,  1902,  p.  368)  had  previously  put 
forward  a  suggestion  embodying  the  germs  of  a  theory  of  memory  somewhat 
resembling  that  herein  described. 


384  THE  MONIST. 

TABLE  II. 

r  — number  of  repeti-      n  =  number  of  syllables      «  =  number  of  syllables 
tions.  memorized  (observed)        memorized  (calculated) 

i  7  8.33 

16.6  12  12.06 

30  16  16.57 

44  24  23.11 

55  26  29.99 

Data  similar  to  those  obtained  by  Ebbinghaus  have  been 
obtained  by  W.  G.  Smith18  who,  however,  used  methods  of 
investigation  differing  somewhat  from  those  employed  by 
Ebbinghaus.  In  the  accompanying  table  the  figures  de- 
duced from  the  above  formula  and  the  data  actually  ob- 
tained by  Smith  are  compared  (Since  these  data  are  each 
the  mean  of  a  large  number  of  determinations  they  are 
expressed  as  syllables  and  fractions  of  syllables)  : 

TABLE  III. 

r  =  number  of  repeti-      n  =  number  of  syllables      n  =  number  of  syllables 
tions.  memorized  (observed)        memorized  (calculated) 

I  2.2  2.21 

3  2.5  2.46 

6  2.8  2.87 

9  3-4  3-35 

12  3.9  3.92 

It  will  be  seen  that  the  calculated  and  the  observed 
figures  agree  closely.  Our  hypothesis  has  already  borne 
fruit.  It  has  enabled  us  to  anticipate  the  exact  nature  of 
the  hitherto  undetermined  function  connecting  the  amount 
of  material  memorized  and  the  time  of  learning,  and  our 
anticipations  have  proved  correct. 

It  can  also  be  easily  shown,  but  again  I  will  refrain 
from  the  mathematics  involved,  that,  provided  our  hypoth- 
esis were  correct,  the  Weber  law  of  sensation  would  ne- 

18  W.  G.  Smith,  Psychol  Rev.,  3,  1896,  p.  21. 


MEMORY,  SENSATION:  BIOCHEMICAL  CONCEPTION.  385 

cessarily  follow;  the  Weber  law  therefore  affords  addi- 
tional confirmation  of  the  hypothesis. 

One  more  illustration  of  the  possible  applications  of  the 
hypothesis  and  I  will  conclude.  Every  stimulus  takes  a 
certain  time  to  be  perceived  ;  when  we  touch  a  red-hot  coal 
we  do  not,  as  we  imagine,  instantly  perceive  the  heat. 
Minute  as  the  interval  is  between  the  application  of  the 
stimulus  and  its  perception,  it  can  nevertheless  be  accurately 
measured  by  the  exact  methods  of  experimental  psychol- 
ogy. It  can  readily  be  shown  that,  were  the  above  hypoth- 
esis correct,  the  period  required  to  perceive  a  stimulus  (for 
stimuli  not  too  intense)  should  be  connected  with  the  in- 
tensity of  the  stimulus  according  to  the  following  function  : 


where  t  is  the  time  required  to  perceive  a  stimulus  of  in- 
tensity i  and  A,  B  and  C  are  constants,  that  is,  do  not 
vary  when  t  and  i  vary. 

Cattell19  has  published  a  number  of  observations  upon 
the  time  required  for  a  color  to  be  correctly  perceived  ;  his 
results  for  one  subject  and  with  orange  light  are  compared, 
in  the  following  table,  with  the  deductions  from  the  above 
formula,  the  time  is  given  in  thousandths  of  a  second. 

TABLE  IV. 

Intensity  of  the  light     Time  required  to  correctly     Time  required  to  correctly 
perceive  (observed)  perceive  (calculated) 

I  .9  .9 

%  I.I  I.O 

%6  1.25  1.25 

%4  1.75  1.8 

%56  2.5"  2.4 

The  time  required  to  read  a  page  of  a  given  size  of 
print  which  is  illuminated  by  varying  intensities  of  light  is 

19  J.  McKeen  Cattell,  Philosophische  Studien,  3,  1886,  p.  94. 


386 


THE  MONIST. 


connected  with  the  intensity  of  illumination  according  to 
the  same  formula,  as  the  following  table  shows20 : 

TABLE  V. 

Intensity  of  illumination        Time  required  to  read  col-    Time  required  to  read 

column  of  pearl  type 
(calculated) 

36  seconds 

36    - 
46 

64 

1 10        " 


umn  of  pearl  type  (ob- 
served) 


ii.2   candle-meters  36  seconds 


2.8 

*7 

•35 
.17 


63 

1  10 


The  psychologists  of  old  endeavored  to  unravel  the 
tangled  skein  of  mental  phenomena  through  the  unaided 
exertions  of  their  intellect,  and  they  succeeded  only  in  ren- 
dering "confusion  worse  confounded."  The  modern  psy- 
chologist has  devoted  himself  almost  wholly  to  measure- 
ment and  description,  and  he  has  succeeded  in  measuring 
with  the  utmost  refinement,  it  is  true,  a  limited  number 
of  phenomena,  but  his  field  of  investigation  has  been  nar- 
row, his  horizon  contracted.  It  appears  to  me  that  by  a 
well-balanced  combination  of  the  two  methods,  by  a  judi- 
cious admixture  of  scientific  hypothesis  as  a  guide  to  scien- 
tific observation,  we  may  hope  to  achieve,  in  the  not  too 
distant  future,  a  scientific  knowledge  of  mental  phenomena 
not  incomparable  with  our  knowledge  of  phenomena  of 
the  external,  material  world. 

T.  BRAILSFORD  ROBERTSON. 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 

*  Constructed  from  data  published  by  Griffing  and  Franz,  Psychological 
Review,  3,  1896,  p.  513.  The  data  quoted  are  those  which  were  obtained  with 
subject  H.  G. 


PSYCHOLOGY  A  DOMAIN  OF  ITS  OWN. 

WITH   REFERENCE  TO  THE  BIOCHEMICAL  INTERPRETATION 
OF  MENTAL  PHENOMENA. 

PSYCHICAL  activity  so  obviously  constitutes  a  class 
of  its  own  that  it  has  been  regarded  as  radically  differ- 
ent from  any  other  natural  phenomenon.  Here  lies  the 
basis  of  all  dualism,  and  here  if  anywhere  must  be  sought 
its  justification,  which  however  is  only  relative.  A  close 
study  of  the  situation  leads  to  a  monistic  conception,  but 
while  monism  removes  the  contradictions  of  dualism,  it 
can  not  and  should  not  slur  over  the  contrasts  of  nature 
which  actually  exist. 

Psychical  phenomena  are  different  from  any  other  kind 
of  natural  happenings  and  it  would  be  vain  to  deny  it. 
Nevertheless  there  have  always  been  advocates  of  a  one- 
sided monism  who  claim  that  psychical  activity  can  be  and 
thas  to  be  explained  from  physical,  or  chemical,  or  perhaps 
biochemical  facts;  that  therefore  psychology  should  be  re- 
garded as  a  branch  of  physics  and  that  from  physics  or 
chemistry  we  shall  have  to  expect  the  solution  of  psychical 
^problems.  This  view  is  quite  common  among  a  great 
number  of  naturalists  and  we  deem  it  proper  in  the  interest 
of  our  readers  to  have  it  presented  in  our  columns  by  Mr. 
Robertson  of  the  University  of  California,  who  in  his  line 
has  done  good  work,  but  while  the  results  of  his  labors 
may  prove  valuable  in  biochemistry  we  do  not  expect  that 
they  will  contribute  anything  toward  the  solution  of  psy- 
chical problems. 


388  THE  MONIST. 

It  is  perhaps  natural  that  men  of  Mr.  Robertson's  type 
would  look  upon  my  views  as  inconsistent  and  think  that 
theirs  alone  are  truly  scientific  and  monistic.  On  a  super- 
ficial inspection  my  proposition  appears  dualistic,  so  I  will 
here  set  forth  my  reason  why  I  deem  the  naturalistic  mo- 
nism (as  it  might  fitly  be  called)  insufficient  and  untenable. 

Not  without  satisfaction  I  note  that  among  scientists, 
thoroughly  familiar  with  chemistry  and  physics,  Rignano 
makes  a  praiseworthy  exception  in  that  he  most  vigorously 
insists  on  psychology  being  sui  generis  and  as  different 
from  physics  as  e.  g.  electricity  is  different  from  chemistry. 
We  go  further  still  and  say  that  psychology  being  the  sci- 
ence of  the  phenomena  of  the  domain  of  subjectivity,  has 
a  character  of  its  own  different  from  all  the  sciences  of 
objective  phenomena,  mechanics,  physics,  chemistry  and 
physiology.  This  of  course  does  not  exclude  that  occa- 
sionally and  in  very  important  details  these  sciences  will 
throw  light  on  the  mechanism  or  objective  conditions  of 
feeling  and  thinking,  but  they  will  never  explain  the  prop- 
erly psychical  or  subjective  phenomena  of  the  soul.  In- 
cidentally we  will  add  that  if  Mr.  Rignano  had  been  fa- 
miliar with  the  philosophy  of  form  or  the  philosophy  of 
science,  as  our  view  of  monism  may  be  fitly  called,  he 
would  have  been  helped  in  working  out  his  own  theory 
and  might  have  both  deepened  and  broadened  it. 

We  can  not  satisfactorily  explain  our  objections  to  Pro- 
fessor Robertson's  position  without  going  over  the  whole 
field  of  psychological  problems,  but  on  account  of  their 
paramount  importance  we  gladly  take  this  opportunity  to 
recapitulate  our  views  in  a  concise  form. 

THE  IMPORTANCE  OF  PSYCHOLOGY. 

The  laws  of  nature  are  the  same  for  the  whole  realm 
of  existence,  yet  we  must  recognize  that  there  are  differ- 
ences of  conditions,  and  we  can  classify  different  kinds  of 


PSYCHOLOGY   A   DOMAIN    OF   ITS   OWN.  389 

phenomena  according  to  their  characteristic  features  into 
distinct  groups.  One  of  the  most  obvious  divisions  is  the 
distinction  between  organized  and  unorganized  nature, 
the  latter  consisting  of  the  purely  physical  domains  of 
existence  and  the  former  comprising  all  the  phenomena 
of  life,  vegetal  and  animal,  reaching  its  climax  in  the  de- 
velopment of  humanity. 

If  the  whole  of  existence  is  one,  we  can  not  look  upon 
the  development  of  life,  of  animation,  of  consciousness  and 
of  rationality  as  some  accidental  by-play,  but  on  the  con- 
trary we  must  regard  soul,  spirit,  mind,  or  whatever  you 
may  call  it,  as  the  necessary  outcome  of  the  intrinsic  na- 
ture of  existence.  Nevertheless  organized  life  constitutes 
a  domain  of  its  own  and  within  this  domain  the  group  of 
psychical  phenomena  is  again  a  province  with  distinct  char- 
acteristics which  are  absent  in  the  domain  of  inorganic 
nature. 

The  attempts  to  explain  psychology  from  physics  or 
chemistry  must  therefore  be  futile,  for  the  very  elements 
of  psychic  life  (the  significance  of  subjective  states)  are 
not  met  with  in  those  fields  where  the  objective  conditions 
alone  (which  are  always  matter  in  motion)  are  an  object 
of  investigation,  viz.,  in  molar  mechanics,  physics,  chem- 
istry and  electricity. 

A  view  of  the  world  based  alone  upon  physics  and  chem- 
istry or  in  general  upon  the  science  of  objective  nature 
will  always  prove  a  failure,  for  it  will  never  explain  the 
soul.  Thus  we  must  invert  the  process  and  expect  a  solu- 
tion of  the  world  problem  not  from  the  lowest  forms  of 
existence  but  from  its  highest  efflorescence.  We  must  rec- 
ognize the  import  of  subjectivity  which  though  apparently 
absent  in  pure  physics,  reveals  itself  in  the  consciousness 
of  man,  the  noblest  product  of  organized  life. 

If  we  want  to  understand  the  mechanism  of  objective 
nature  in  its  complications,  in  its  growth,  in  its  wonderful 


39O  THE  MONIST. 

details,  we  must  start  with  the  simplest  phenomena;  but 
if  we  would  like  to  know  the  meaning  of  the  whole,  the 
direction  in  which  nature  tends  and  the  aim  which  by  an 
intrinsic  necessity  it  pursues,  we  must  consider  the  highest 
phases  of  its  evolution,  for  thus  alone  can  we  realize  the 
potentialities  that  lie  latent  in  the  cosmic  conditions. 

Here  lies  the  paramount  significance  of  psychology, 
and  we  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that  the  way  in  which  the 
psychological  problem  is  treated  in  a  philosophy  is  always 
the  best  test  of  its  worth. 

THE  DOCTRINE  OF  PARALLELISM. 

The  doctrine  of  parallelism  has  been  generally  accepted 
in  psychology,  but  it  must  not  be  interpreted  in  a  dualistic 
sense.  There  are  not  two  separate  factors,  the  psycho- 
logical and  the  physiological,  running  parallel  to  each 
other,  but  there  is  one  reality  which  has  two  aspects, — the 
one  being  the  internal  or  subjective,  the  other,  the  external 
or  objective.  The  two  are  as  inseparable  and  yet  different, 
as  the  internal  and  the  external  curves  of  a  circle. 

The  character  of  the  subjective  domain  exhibits  the 
phenomena  of  sentiency,  feeling,  awareness,  consciousness 
and  self-consciousness  in  different  degrees,  beginning  with 
the  absolute  zero  of  feeling  and  rising  up  to  the  concen- 
trated attention  of  a  rational  being.  The  character  of  the 
objective  domain  is  motion,  gravity  and  momentum ;  chem- 
ical reaction,  heat,  electricity,  vitalism,  physiological  func- 
tions and  the  action  of  premeditated  purpose.  The  inner 
aspect  of  subjectivity  always  corresponds  to  the  outer  as- 
pect of  objective  events.  Both  form  a  unit,  and  are  mu- 
tually determined,  or  properly  speaking,  they  are  the  same 
in  two  aspects.  It  is  a  parallelism  of  aspects,  but  not  a 
parallelism  of  two  independent  realities. 

I  know  that  feeling  is  a  reality,  for  I  am  feeling.  I 
myself,  as  I  am  known  to  me,  consist  of  feelings  and  so  we 


PSYCHOLOGY  A   DOMAIN   OF   ITS   OWN.  39! 

may  say  that  feelings  are  the  surest  and  most  indubitable 
reality.  Motion  on  the  other  hand  is  the  object  of  my  ob- 
servation. I  take  note  of  changes  that  are  taking  place; 
they  are  modifications  of  my  own  being,  the  causes  of 
which  mostly  do  not  originate  in  me,  but  are  thrust  on  me 
and  constitute  otherness,  or  something  thrown  up  against 
me — such  is  the  literal  and  original  meaning  of  the  Latin 
word  objictum  derived  from  objicere.  Hence  their  whole 
domain  is  called  objectivity. 

Our  own  body  is  part  of  the  outer  objectivity  and  only 
our  feelings  are  subjective,  yet  these  feelings  animate  the 
body  and  suggest  at  once  that  body  and  feelings  belong  to 
each  other  as  outside  and  inside  of  the  same  thing. 

The  contrast  between  subjective  and  objective  phe- 
nomena becomes  most  apparent  in  the  fact  that  we  can 
feel  our  own  feelings,  not  those  of  others.  We  can  see  the 
motions  that,  judging  from  our  own  condition,  we  assume 
to  accompany  other  creatures'  feelings,  but  their  feelings 
themselves  can  never  become  objects  of  observation  or  in- 
spection. As  feelings  they  are  and  remain  forever  sub- 
jective. 

The  two  aspects  are  radically  different,  for  feeling  is 
not  motion,  nor  is  motion  feeling.  The  soul  is  not  body, 
and  the  body  is  not  soul,  but  they  are  one,  of  which  the 
soul  is  the  inner,  and  the  body,  the  outer  aspect. 


Such  is  the  doctrine  of  parallelism  in  its  monistic  inter- 
pretation, which,  however,  leaves  the  question  of  the  nature 
and  origin  of  consciousness  open,  and  here  I  offer  an  ex- 
planation which,  briefly  stated,  is  this:  Every  objectivity 
has  its  subjective  aspect,  and  is  possessed  of  the  potentiality 
of  developing  into  actual  feeling;  but  the  subjective  in- 
terior of  purely  physical  phenomena  cannot  be  ensouled 
with  anything  like  actual  feeling  or  awareness  or  conscious- 


392  THE  MONIST. 

ness,  because  its  inner  commotions  or  subjective  states  re- 
main isolated.  Isolated  feelings  are  not  feelings  in  the 
proper  sense  of  the  word.  In  order  to  be  actually  felt,  they 
must  internally  enter  into  a  relation  so  that  one  feeling 
meets  another  feeling;  two  or  several  feelings  must  co- 
operate, so  as  to  let  one  feeling  feel  the  other.  One  feels 
while  the  other  is  being  felt,  thus  producing  the  possibility 
of  an  interaction  between  several  subjective  states  among 
themselves.  Thereby  alone  can  the  feeling  of  a  contrast 
originate,  and  only  through  the  feeling  of  contrasts  can  a 
state  of  awareness  result,  yet  any  such  internal  interaction 
of  feeling  is  possible  only  through  organization. 

This  explanation  tallies  with  facts  established  both  by 
biology  and  by  physiology,  for  we  know  that  consciousness 
is  always  associated  with  a  nervous  system  originating  in 
these  organisms  which  are  moving  about.  Stationary  or- 
ganisms have  to  wait  for  the  satisfaction  of  their  needs, 
but  a  motor-endowed  creature  is  enabled  to  go  in  search 
for  food.  In  this  way  its  organs  learn  to  co-operate,  and 
this  imposes  upon  them  unity  of  purpose.  The  unity  of 
purpose  produces  the  unity  of  the  soul. 

The  characteristic  distinction  of  living  beings,  when 
compared  to  physical  phenomena  devoid  of  life,  is  organi- 
zation in  so  far  as  it  renders  possible  a  co-ordination  of 
subjective  states.  Vitality  is  not  a  special  force  or  sub- 
stance ;  it  is  solely  the  function  of  organization,  but  as  such 
it  is  a  phenomenon  sui  generis  and  different  from  the  forces 
of  physics,  chemistry,  electricity  or  molar  mechanics. 

MEMORY  THE  PRESERVATION  OF  LIVING  FORMS. 

The  typical  feature  of  organization  is  the  constant 
change  of  material  which  takes  place  in  living  substance. 
It  is  called  metabolism,  and  in  animal  substance  consists 
of  a  building  up  or  anabolism,  and  a  partial  breakdown 
of  the  energy  thus  stored  up,  called  catabolism.  Anabolism 


PSYCHOLOGY   A   DOMAIN   OF   ITS   OWN.  393 

is  nutrition ;  it  changes  food  into  living  substance,  a  process 
called  assimilation.  Catabolism  in  setting  energy  free 
renders  motion  possible  and  this  motion  has  under  certain 
conditions  its  subjective  aspect,  which  means  that  it  is  ac- 
companied with  feeling. 

The  partial  breakdown  of  living  structures  called  cata- 
bolism  is  not  always  the  same  but  varies  in  form,  depend- 
ing upon  the  circumstances  under  which  it  takes  place.  It 
is  a  reaction  upon  a  stimulus,  and  the  reaction  upon  ether 
waves  or  light,  air  waves  or  sound,  upon  a  touch  of  chem- 
icals (as  in  taste  or  smell),  or  upon  mechanical  impacts  are 
different  physiologically  as  well  as  psychically.  In  other 
words:  The  irritation  of  light  will  produce  one  kind  of 
structural  change,  while  the  irritations  of  sound  and  of 
touch  cause  other  modifications,  all  of  them  being  anal- 
ogous ;  the  same  kind  of  cause  corresponds  to  the  same 
kind  of  physiological  function,  and  each  function  possesses 
a  form  of  its  own  and  is  accompanied  by  a  feeling  peculiar 
to  itself. 

Here  the  great  significance  of  form  for  the  explanation 
of  life  and  of  the  soul  becomes  manifest.  The  psyche  with 
its  mentality,  its  reason,  its  purposes,  its  ideas,  etc.,  would 
not  be  possible,  if  organization  did  not  involve  a  preser- 
vation of  form. 

The  waste  material  of  a  catabolic  breakdown  (mostly 
carbonic  acid)  is  discarded,  while  through  the  anabolic 
process  of  nutrition  the  lost  elements  are  again  restored  in 
the  living  substance,  and  this  is  done  in  such  a  way  as  to 
preserve  the  structure  in  its  minutest  detail.  Thus  the 
modifications  produced  by  the  reaction  upon  the  several 
stimuli  remain  and  constitute  so-called  vestiges  or  traces. 
In  so  far  as  this  preservation  of  the  form  of  living  sub- 
stance is  accompanied  by  feeling,  and  as  former  feelings 
can  be  revived  on  the  application  of  proper  stimuli,  it  is 
called  memory. 


394  THE  MONIST. 

Memory,  as  Hering  has  pointed  out,  is  a  property  com- 
mon to  all  living  substance;  it  is  the  indispensable  condi- 
tion of  the  development  of  the  soul.  The  differentiation 
of  nerve  activity  into  the  senses  with  its  several  modes  of 
reacting  upon  the  stimuli  of  the  outer  world,  is  due  to  a 
specialization  of  the  several  reactions  in  different  spots, 
and  this  specialization  becomes  permanent  through  mem- 
ory, which  means  through  a  preservation  of  the  forms  of 
the  several  reactions. 

For  a  comprehension  of  psychology,  viz.,  for  our  knowl- 
edge of  subjective  phenomena,  it  is  quite  indifferent  what 
biochemical  processes  are  its  physical  accompaniments; 
whether  it  is  acid  as  Professor  Robertson  tells  us  which 
serves  as  a  kind  of  axle-grease  for  the  wheels  of  memory, 
or  a  salt  or  any  other  chemical.  If  we  knew  the  whole 
chemistry  of  the  brain  it  would  throw  no  light  on  the 
slightest  psychic  action  or  mental  process.  Bio-chemistry 
can  only  solve  the  problems  of  the  bio-chemical  conditions 
of  the  brain  and  has  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the  mind 
as  such.  This  statement  does  not  involve  a  dualistic  inter- 
pretation of  mental  phenomena  but  only  demands  the  dis- 
tinction between  the  spheres  of  subjectivity  and  objectivity 
which,  though  two  aspects  of  one  and  the  same  reality, 
are  after  all  radically  different  in  their  nature. 

All  events,  states,  and  facts  in  this  world  are  inter- 
related or  correlated  and  all  of  them  form  one  inseparable 
universe.  But  for  that  reason  science  distinguishes  be- 
tween different  aspects,  different  features,  and  different 
qualities,  and  focuses  its  attention  on  one  in  order  to  com- 
prehend those  features  which  at  the  time  are  to  be  in- 
vestigated. We  have  to  obey  this  rule  also  in  psychol- 
ogy, and  thus  the  attempt  to  explain  psychical  phenomena 
from  the  physical  facts  would  be  about  the  same  as  to  ex- 
pect a  demonstration  of  the  Pythagorean  theorem  from  ex- 
periments in  chemical  affinities.  The  attempt  at  solving 


PSYCHOLOGY  A   DOMAIN   OF   ITS   OWN.  395 

psychological  problems  from  biochemistry  would  be  about 
on  the  same  level  as  if  an  art  critic  insisted  that  in  order 
to  explain  the  composition  and  meaning  of  Raphael's  Sis- 
tine  Madonna  he  would  have  to  make  a  chemical  analysis 
of  the  paints  and  the  canvas  Raphael  used.  The  spirit  of 
a  book  is  not  in  the  paper  or  printer's  ink,  and  the  soul  of 
a  man  is  not  his  body  nor  his  cerebrum.  The  soul  of  a  man 
is  the  meaning  which  his  sentiments  possess  and  the  pur- 
poses which  he  pursues  in  life. 

It  is  true  that  the  investigation  of  the  biochemical  con- 
ditions of  the  brain  will  prove  of  great  interest  and  will 
help  us  to  better  understand  the  nervous  mechanism,  but 
the  nature  of  mental  processes  and  their  problem  will  re- 
main the  same  as  before. 

Physicists  are  frequently  in  the  habit  of  condemning 
even  legitimate  psychical  investigation  as  metaphysical, 
and  there  are  not  a  few  who  would  regard  psychology  as 
only  a  branch  of  physiology.  "With  reference  to  their 
claims  we  will  say  that  they  are  frequently  unfair  to  psy- 
chologists and  misrepresent  their  views.  For  instance 
Professor  Robertson  speaks  of  the  old  metaphysical  view 
as  "the  dualism  which  regards  the  mind  as  a  species  of 
gaseous  vertebrate  dwelling  within,  but  not,  or  only  in  a 
minor  degree,  subject  to  the  physical  and  chemical  laws 
which  govern  our  material  body." 

Even  Thomas  Aquinas  would  have  demurred  to  this 
representation  of  his  conception  of  the  soul,  and  we  would 
remind  Mr.  Robertson  of  the  fact  that  the  expression  "gas- 
eous vertebrate"  has  never  been  used  seriously  by  any 
one  who  holds  the  dualistic  soul-conception,  and  is  merely 
a  joke  which  Haeckel  once  made  when  referring  to  the 
anthropomorphic  God-conception.  An  expression  which 
is  made  as  a  jest  can  certainly  not  be  used  to  describe  the 
characteristic  feature  of  a  view  to  be  combated. 

Professor  Robertson  refers  to  the  remarkable  fact  that 


396  THE  MONIST. 

the  results  obtained  by  Weber  and  Ebbinghaus,  with  the 
exception  of  a  few  immediate  applications,  have  done  little 
to  extend  our  knowledge  of  the  field  of  mental  phenomena 
and  he  believes,  following  Loeb,  that  "valuable  clues  are 
afforded  by  the  tropisms"  and  further  "that  clues  of  equal 
value  are  afforded  by  the  phenomena  of  memory." 

As  to  the  significance  of  memory  we  agree,  but  Profes- 
sor Robertson  instead  of  explaining  memory  (as  we  do) 
as  a  preservation  of  form,  regards  the  processes  of  memory 
as  physical  and  chemical  phenomena,  and  compares  the 
reaction  of  memory  to  catalysors  which  act  in  such  a  way 
as  to  make  the  reaction  quicker  by  repetition,  and  this  is 
done  through  the  formation  of  acids.  He  says :  "Here  we 
have,  also,  the  obvious  suggestion  of  a  working  hypothesis 
of  memory;  during  the  perusal,  for  example,  of  a  printed 
word,  acid  is  produced  in  some  portion  of  the  cerebral 
tissue,  hence  the  word  is  more  readily  repeated  until,  after 
a  certain  number  of  repetitions,  we  can  dispense  with  the 
external  stimulus  of  the  printed  word  and  repeat  the  pro- 
cess of  cognition  spontaneously." 

Professor  Robertson's  reduction  of  this  statement,  to 
a  mathematical  formula,  log  n  =  Kr-{-b,  where  n  is  the 
number  of  syllables  memorized,  r  the  number  of  repetitions, 
and  K  and  b  constants,  may  be  very  imposing  to  the  gen- 
eral reader  but  adds  nothing  to  the  explanation  of  the  phe- 
nomenon itself. 

In  spite  of  the  merits  of  Professor  Loeb  especially  in  the 
line  of  physiological  experiments,  in  which  specialty  he  has 
distinguished  himself,  we  can  not  see  that  psychology  would 
be  helped  by  calling  some  definite  reactions  which  take  place 
under  some  definite  conditions  "tropisms."  We  do  not  gain 
a  scientific  comprehension  of  these  transactions  until  we 
gain  an  insight  into  the  mechanism  which  upon  a  definite 
irritation  causes  organized  life  to  move  in  a  special  direc- 
tion and  in  a  special  way.  New  names  do  not  explain, 


PSYCHOLOGY  A  DOMAIN   OF   ITS  OWN.  397 

however  learned  they  may  sound  and  we  are  little  helped 
if  memory  is  henceforth  "scientifically  and  more  appro- 
priately" termed  "associative  hysteresis."  The  reason  why 
psychological  laboratories  have  added  so  little  to  our  psy- 
chological knowledge  is  in  my  opinion  the  wrong  notion 
upon  which  the  experiments  are  based,  that  the  soul  can 
be  measured  quantitatively,  and  though  measurements  are 
quite  helpful  in  many  respects  they  will  never  throw  light 
on  the  soul  itself  whose  very  character  is  of  a  qualitative 
nature.  I  know  very  well  that  the  idea  is  quite  common 
among  certain  naturalists  that  the  notion  of  quality  is  not 
to  be  tolerated  in  science  and  that  every  problem  is  ulti- 
mately of  a  quantitative  nature,  but  we  demur  and  have 
set  forth  our  reason  in  a  special  article,  entitled  "The  Sig- 
nificance of  Quality,"  which  has  been  published  in  The 
Monist,  Vol.  XV,  p.  375. 

MEMORY  THE  SOUL  BUILDER. 

The  most  important  service  of  memory  is  the  part  it 
plays  in  building  up  the  soul.  Memory  creates  the  con- 
dition which  begets  the  soul  and  then  continues  its  further 
growth  by  adding  and  superadding  new  mental  riches  to 
its  capacity. 

First  of  all  memory  renders  possible  comparisons  be- 
tween the  traces  of  past  impressions  and  new  sensations. 
Every  memory  image  possesses  a  form  of  its  own,  and  a 
sense-impression  of  the  same  kind  travels  on  the  path  of  its 
forerunner  and  revives  its  analogous  memory  trace  which 
results  in  a  feeling  of  sameness.  The  new  sensation  fits 
into  the  trace  of  the  old  one  and  is  felt  to  be  of  the  same 
kind.  This  feeling  of  sameness  implies  an  act  of  recogni- 
tion whereby  the  sense-impression  gains  meaning;  and 
thus  sense-impressions  of  the  same  kind  come  to  represent 
the  objects  which  cause  them. 

Here  we  have  the  principle  from  which  we  derive  the 


39^  THE  MONIST. 

explanation  of  the  soul,  for  the  soul  consists  of  feelings 
which  have  become  representative  of  things,  conditions, 
experiences,  etc.  In  order  to  solve  the  problem  -of  the 
origin  of  the  soul  we  must  show  how  sentiency  acquires 
significance.  Certain  feelings  come  to  stand  for  certain 
objects.  They  represent  them.  The  living  ideas  of  a 
man  are  sentiments  freighted  with  meaning  and  the  soul 
is  a  system  of  sentient  symbols. 

This  solution  looks  very  simple  and  it  is  simple  indeed ; 
but  how  grand  and  infinitely  complicated  are  the  corollaries 
implied.  Consider  that  a  symbol,  or  a  representative  mean- 
ing, is  what  it  is  by  its  relation  to  an  objective  reality, 
which  may  be  a  concrete  object,  a  condition  or  a  general 
feature  of  many  objects,  or  a  universal  truth.  There  are 
false  symbols  and  there  are  true  symbols,  and  these  sym- 
bols are  not  merely  pictures  of  actualities,  but  also  of  aims, 
of  aspirations,  of  ends  to  be  attained.  They  have  a  prag- 
matic tendency.  They  possess  moral  or  religious  values, 
and  these  values  may  be  true  or  false.  They  may  lead  in 
the  right  or  in  the  wrong  direction ;  they  may  be  in  agree- 
ment with  the  constitution  of  the  All  or  they  may  be,  as  it 
were,  out  of  tune.  They  may  be  more  or  less  an  incarna- 
tion of  the  world-order  which  sways  not  only  stars  and 
motes  but  also  guides  the  thoughts  and  sentiments  of  man ; 
and  here  we  have  a  test  of  progress.  Progress  is  not  (as 
Spencer  has  it)  "a  passage  from  the  homogeneous  to  a 
heterogeneous  state,"  but  the  realization  of  truth.  Progress 
means  growth  of  soul,  and  growth  of  soul  means  growth 
of  truth.  The  more  clearly,  correctly  and  completely  truth 
is  mirrored  in  a  man,  the  higher  he  ranges  in  the  scale  of 
evolution. 

EDITOR. 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS. 

EASY  NON-EUCLID. 

In  England  Euclid  is  used  as  a  synonym  for  elementary  geom- 
etry. Let  us  use  non-Euclid  for  elementary  synthetic  non-Euclidean 
geometry. 

In  ordinary  Archimedean  geometry,  if  we  know  the  angle-sum 
in  a  single  rectilineal  triangle,  we  know  whether  the  geometry  be 
Euclidean  or  non-Euclidean;  if  the  sect  from  the  vertex  of  the 
right  angle  to  the  mid-point  of  the  hypotenuse  partition  a  right- 
angled  isosceles  triangle  into  two  congruent  right-angled  isosceles 
triangles,  which  it  does  if  that  sect  be  half  the  hypotenuse,  then 
space  is  Euclidean. 

At  last  then  we  are  able  to  understand,  to  marvel  at  the  pro- 
phetic, the  mystic  clairvoyant  genius  of  Dante,  the  voice  of  ten 
silent  centuries,  in  connecting  with  the  wisdom  of  Solomon  and  the 
special  opportunity  vouchsafed  Solomon  by  God,  a  question  whose 
answer  would  have  established  the  case  of  Euclidean  geometry  seven 
centuries  before  its  birth,  or  the  case  of  non-Euclidean  geometry 
three  thousand  years  before  its  creation  by  Bolyai. 

I  Kings  iii.  5  is :  In  Gibeon  the  Lord  appeared  to  Solomon  in  a 
dream  by  night:  and  God  said,  Ask  what  I  shall  give  thee. 

Then  says  Dante  of  his  asking, 

"  'Twas  not  to  know  the  number  in  which  are 


Or  if  in  semicircle  can  be  made 
Triangle  so  that  it  have  no  right  angle." 

[O  se  del  mezzo  cerchio  far  si  puote 

Triangol  si,  ch'un  retto  non  avesse.] 

Par.  C  XIII,  101-102. 

How  unexpected,  how  startling  this!     Ever  overlooked,  yet 
now  when  found  how  strangely  reinforced  by  Dante's  ranking  in 


4OO  THE  MONIST. 

the  fourth  canto  of  the  "Divina  Commedia,"  with  Caesar,  gieatest 
of  men,  among  exalted  personages 

" who  slow  their  eyes  around 

Majestically  moved,  and  in  their  port 
Bore  eminent  authority," 

Hippocrates  of  Chios  who  squared  the  lime,  nearest  that  ever  man 
came  to  the  quadrature  of  the  circle  until  finally  Bolyai  squared  it 
in  non-Euclid  and  Lindemann  proved  no  man  could  square  it  in 
Euclid ;  and  then  Euclid  himself,  the  geometer,  the  elementist,  pre- 
emptor,  by  his  unprovable  postulate,  of  the  commonly  credited  uni- 
verse, Euclidean  space ;  and  then  Ptolemy,  first  of  the  long  line  of 
those  who  have  tried  by  proof  to  answer  the  question  Dante  says 
Solomon  might  have  asked  God  and  did  not,  a  question  crucial  as 
to  whether  Euclid's  or  Bolyai's  space  holds  the  actual  world,  the  real 
thing. 

Of  course  the  treatise  of  the  great  astronomer,  purporting  to 
prove  the  parallel-postulate,  miscarried,  and  hundreds  after  him  spent 
in  vain  their  brains  in  like  attempts.  What  vast  effort  has  been 
wasted  in  this  chimerical  hope,  says  Poincare,  is  truly  unimaginable. 

Yet  according  to  my  genial  friend  Francis  C.  Russell,  it  is  all 
so  easy  that  he  is  only  prevented  from  letting  out  the  secret  by  fear 
lest  he  offend ! 

In  the  last  number  of  The  Monist,  April,  1909,  p.  294,  he  says : 
"The  proof  that  the  two  secondary  triangles  are  exactly  equal  to 
one  another,  that  they  are  right-angled  and  isosceles ....  is  so  simple 
in  more  than  one  way,  that  it  would  be  almost  an  imputation  upon 
the  reader  to  spread  it  before  him." 

By  what  he  does  spread  before  us  let  us  judge  of  the  quality 
of  his  supposed  proof.  He  prints  from  Lobatchevsky :  "24.  The 
farther  parallel  lines  are  prolonged  on  the  side  of  their  parallelism, 
the  more  they  approach  one  another."  Yet  he  misses  the  point, 
that  in  this  non-Euclid,  parallelism  is  a  sensed  relation.  As  shown 
by%  Lobachevsky's  very  first  figure,  which  he  reproduces,  page  291, 
through  every  point  two  intersecting  straight  lines  are  parallel  to 
the  same  straight  line  in  opposite  senses.  How  then  could  any  one 
pervert  the  theorem  "15.  Two  straight  lines  which  are  parallel  to 
a  third  in  the  same  sense  (toward  the  same  side)  are  also  parallel  to 
one  another"  into  applying  to  two  straight  lines  parallel  to  a  third 
in  opposite  senses?  Yet  this  he  solemnly  does,  saying,  p.  302,  "This 
looks  to  me  very  much  like  a  proof  that  in  all  cases  the  angle  of 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  4OI 

parallelism  is  a  right  angle,"  and  then  impales  himself  on  the  fol- 
lowing reductio  ad  absurdum :  "Now  by  the  very  same  course  of  de- 
duction the  line  KAK'  is  shown  to  be  parallel  to  HAH'  and  to 
EAE',  in  spite  of  the  rather  important  feature  that  they  cut  one 
another  at  A." 

With  this  before  us,  I  think  we  can  never  hope  from  Mr.  Russell 
a  validly  justified  answer  to  Dante's  question  for  Solomon,  but  his 
article  is  interesting  if  only  for  its  very  liberal  quotations  from  the 
only  English  translation  of  Lobatchevsky,  now  rare,  and  for  its 
amplification  of  a  definition  of  the  plane  and  the  straight  line  given 
in  1904  as  §  59,  p.  29,  of  the  first  edition  of  Halsted's  Rational 
Geometry. 

The  article  is  as  follows :  "59.  If  A,  B,  C  be  any  three  points 
not  costraight,  then  (by  the  method  used  in  58)  we  can  construct 
a  point  B"  such  that  AB"  is  identical  with  AB  and  CB"  is  identical 
with  CB : 

"Therefore  a  point  D  such  that  no  other  point  whatsoever,  say 
D",  gives  AD"  identical  with  AD  and  CD"  identical  with  CD,  must 
be  costraight  with  AC." 

The  following  have  been  given  as  definitions: 

"If  A  and  B  are  two  distinct  points,  the  straight  AB  is  the 
aggregate  of  points  P  for  none  of  which  is  there  any  point  Q  such 
that  QA  is  identical  with  PA  and  QB  identical  with  PB. 

"If  A,  B,  C  are  distinct  points  not  costraight,  the  plane  ABC  is 
the  aggregate  of  points  P  for  none  of  which  is  there  any  point  Q 
such  that  QA  is  identical  with  PA,  QB  identical  with  PB,  and  QC 
identical  with  PC." 

Since  in  the  book  no  use  is  made  of  the  parallel  postulate  until 
after  this  article,  we  see  Mr.  Russell  was  mistaken  in  saying  we 
have  no  applicable  criterion  showing  that  his  straight,  Euclid's  and 
Lobatchevsky 's  are  one  and  the  same.  But  of  course  the  alternative 
deduction  he  gives  lacks  this  advantage,  since  in  it  he  has  uncon- 
sciously assumed  the  parallel  postulate,  assuming  that  every  three 
points  are  costraight  or  concyclic.  He  also  makes  the  unnecessary 
assumptions  of  the  compasses  (Halsted,  Geom.,  Appendix  II,  and 
Euclid  I,  20,  etc.). 

Our  sects,  point-pairs  alike  or  differing  as  to  congruence,  he 
calls  intervals,  our  definition  he  speaks  of  as  "a  definition  which  so 
far  as  I  know  is  a  new  one,"  and  in  trying  to  show  "how  the  ruler 
may  be  derived  by  means  of  the  compass  (sic)  alone,"  he  does  not 


4O2  THE  MONIST. 

know  that  we  have  supplanted  the  compasses  by  a  far  simplei  in- 
strument, the  sect-carrier,  and  that  again  by  the  unitsect-carrier. 

GEORGE  BRUCE  HALSTED. 
GREELEY,  COL. 


CONSTRUCTION  OF  THE  STRAIGHT  LINE. 

IN  COMMENT  ON  MR.  FRANCIS  C.  RUSSELI/S  ARTICLE1  "A  MODERN 

ZENO." 

Mathematicians  will  take  an  interest  in  Francis  C.  Russell's 
attack  on  the  mathematical  system  of  Lobatchevsky,  whom  he  calls 
a  "modern  Zeno."  If  Mr.  Russell  is  right  we  shall  have  to  grant  that 
there  is  a  flaw  in  the  arguments  of  Lobatchevsky  on  which  he  bases 
a  new  geometry  that  in  contrast  to  Euclid's  does  not  acknowledge 
the  postulate  of  parallel  lines. 

Mr.  Chas.  S.  Peirce  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Russell  thinks  that  he  (Mr. 
Russell)  overshot  the  mark.  He  says:  "Those  two  lines  cutting  each 
other  are  not  parallel  and  his  ( Lobatchevsky 's)  defining  them  as 
parallel  to  the  third  was  in  obvious  contradiction  to  the  proposition 
that  two  straight  lines  both  parallel  to  a  third  are  necessarily  paral- 
lel to  each  other.  I  press  the  question,  Why  did  you  not  content 
yourself  with  this  obvious  proof  of  the  incorrectness  of  his  propo- 
sition No.  25?  The  answer  seems  to  me  obvious.  Tf  you  had  done 
that  your  readers  would  have  at  once  perceived  that  Lobatchevsky 
merely  made  a  slip  of  the  pen  and  meant  that  two  straight  lines 
parallel  to  a  third  toward  the  same  side  are  parallel  to  each  other." 

Though  Mr.  Russell  may  have  gone  too  far,  he  has  called  atten- 
tion to  a  mistake  which  ought  to  be  corrected,  and  Mr.  Charles  S. 
Peirce,  in  thoughtful  consideration  of  the  difficulty  which  puzzled 
Mr.  Russell,  points  out  the  flaw. 

But  metageometricians  are  not  so  considerate.  They  claim  that 
he  has  thoroughly  misunderstood  non-Euclidean  geometry.  We 
publish  in  the  present  number  two  criticisms,  one  by  Professor  G. 
B.  Halsted,  the  other  by  W.  H.  Bussey,  assistant  professor  of  mathe- 
matics at  the  University  of  Minnesota. 

Metageometricians  are  a  hotheaded  race  and  display  sometimes 
all  the  characteristics  of  sectarian  fanatics.  To  them  it  is  quite 
clear  that  there  may  be  two  straight  lines  through  one  and  the 
same  point  which  do  not  coincide  and  yet  are  both  parallel  to  a  third 

1  See  the  April  number  of  The  Monist. 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  403 

straight  line.  I  do  not  mean  to  take  issue  here  for  either  Euclideans 
or  non-Euclideans  but  I  wish  to  say  that  the  subject  is  difficult,  that 
mathematicians  are  by  no  means  so  positively  agreed  on  the  subject 
as  some  metageometricians  claim.  If  Mr.  Russell  is  wrong,  the 
admirers  of  Lobatchevsky  are  welcome  to  point  out  the  mistakes  in 
his  objections.  Mr.  Russell  has  made  no  positive  assertions,  he  has 
expressed  his  incredulity  as  to  the  soundness  of  Lobatchevsky 's  argu- 
ments and  asks  for  further  information  on  the  subject.  The  prob- 
lems of  non-Euclidean  geometry  are  not  quite  so  simple,  nor  the 
solutions  of  Lobatchevsky  so  self-evident  that  a  modest  question 
on  the  subject  would  not  be  in  order ;  but  the  editor  is  seriously  re- 
quested to  submit  manuscripts  to  a  mathematician  (presumably  an 
orthodox  non-Euclidean)  and  to  suppress  all  heretical  articles.  In 
reply  to  this  request  I  will  state  that  I  frequently  publish  articles 
setting  forth  views  which  I  do  not  endorse,  because  I  believe  that  they 
are  worth  being  noticed,  considered  and  perhaps  refuted.  Mr. 
Russell,  for  instance,  raises  another  issue  (viz.,  the  problem  of  a 
construction  of  the  straight  line)  on  which  the  greatest  mathe- 
maticians have  made  the  most  divergent  statements. 

Leaving  the  discussion  of  Lobatchevsky's  geometry  to  the 
non-Euclideans  I  wish  now  to  criticise  Mr.  Russell  for  his  con- 
struction of  the  straight  line. 

Mr.  Russell  attempts  to  define  and  develop  the  straight  line  by 
purely  a  priori  methods  and  does  it  without  the  ruler,  limiting  his 
method  to  the  use  of  the  compasses.  He  constructs  three  spheres, 
and  by  the  use  of  the  compasses  only  he  lays  down  a  range  of  points 
which  in  their  totality  mark  a  straight  line.  Incidentally  he  refers 
appreciatively  to  my  book  on  the  Foundations  of  Mathematics,  and 
I  gladly  note  many  points  of  agreement  which,  however,  Mr.  Rus- 
sell has  worked  out  in  perfect  independence.  Like  myself  Mr.  Rus- 
sell calls  attention  to  the  significance  of  even-boundary  conceptions 
the  value  of  which  consists  in  their  uniqueness,  and  he  is  pleased 
with  the  term  "anyness"  ;  but  I  would  suggest  that  if  he  had  adopted 
my  view  of  the  foundation  of  mathematics,  he  would  have  deemed 
it  redundant  to  construct  the  straight  line  as  he  does,  and  would 
be  satisfied  to  produce  it  (as  I  have  done)  as  an  even-boundary 
conception;  for  after  all  he  shares  the  mistake  of  all  attempts  of 
the  same  kind,  in  that  while  constructing  the  straight  line,  he  pre- 
supposes it.  He  says  most  impressively  when  speaking  of  the  in- 
dispensableness  of  the  straight  line  (and  I  subscribe  to  every  word 
of  it)  :  "All  things  in  mathematics  have  been  made  by  it  and  without 


404  THE    MONIST. 

it  has  not  been  made  anything  that  has  been  made."  But  even  while 
making  the  statement  Mr.  Russell  forgets  this  truth  for  a  moment 
and  inadvertently  proves  it  in  his  very  construction  of  the  straight 
line,  for  he  presupposes  and  uses  conditions  which  involve  the 
straight  line,  while  he  attempts  to  lay  it  down  with  the  help  of  the 
compasses. 

The  same  idea,  at  least  in  its  principle,  has  been  suggested  before 
by  Fourier  who  proposed  a  new  construction  of  the  straight  line  in 
the  following  way.  We  quote  from  an  article  by  G.  B.  Halsted  in 
The  Monist,  IV,  p.  485: 

"Take  any  two  points  on  any  solid.  Let  one  remain  at  rest  while 
the  solid  moves.  The  other  describes  a  sphere.  Two  spheres  inter- 
sect in  a  circle.  If  the  spheres  are  equal  and  grow,  this  circle  de- 
scribes a  plane.  If  the  spheres  touch  and  one  decreases  as  the 
other  grows,  their  point  of  contact  describes  a  straight." 

Fourier's  construction  of  the  straight  line  suffers  from  the 
same  faults  as  that  of  Mr.  Russell.  Both  presuppose  the  straight 
line,  both  are  constructed  in  a  homaloidal  space,  under  conditions 
of  anyness,  which  renders  the  distance  between  two  points  definite. 
This  definite  distance  between  two  points  is  determinable  (i.  e., 
measurable)  only  by  a  straight  line.  If  we  could  not  measure  dis- 
tance so  as  to  be  sure  that  it  does  not  change  while  the  moving 
point  travels  around  the  stationary  point,  there  would  be  no  use 
of  the  construction. 

Almost  every  metageometrician  remains  unaware  that  every- 
thing he  does  he  accomplishes  through  the  instrumentality  of  the 
straight  line,  and  that  the  straight  line  is  indispensable  even  if  we 
draw  a  circle.  Here  we  have  good  evidence  of  Mr.  Russell's  dictum 
concerning  the  straight  line,  that  "all  things  in  mathematics  have 
been  made  by  it  and  without  it  has  not  been  made  anything  that  has 
been  made." 

Mr.  Russell,  as  well  as  M.  Fourier,  starts  with  the  construction 
of  a  sphere  and  naturally  makes  use  of  the  radius.  But  what  is  the 
radius  but  a  straight  line,  the  straight  line  being  the  measure  of  the 
distance  between  two  points  ?  When  we  lay  down  two  points  at  a 
definite  distance  we  imply  the  straight  line  which  is  our  only  means  of 
uniquely,  i.  e.,  unequivocally,  determining  distance,  otherwise  we  have 
no  means  to  distinguish  radii  of  different  lengths.  It  is  evident  that 
these  two  constructions,  Mr.  Russell's  and  M.  Fourier's  as  well  as  all 
others  which  produce  the  straight  line  by  some  such  legerdemain, 
presuppose  the  notion  of  an  even  space,  or  of  distance  that  remains 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS. 


405 


the  same,  or  of  a  scope  of  motion  under  conditions  of  anyness.    All 
three  being  different  expressions  for  practically  the  same  thing. 

The  issue  which  I  raise  is  no  quibbling  and  will  be  driven  home 
to  the  reader  who  would  try  to  construct  the  straight  line  with  a 
pair  of  compasses  that  are  not  firmly  set.  He  will  have  again  and 
again  to  assure  himself  that  the  distance  has  remained  the  same. 
When  we  construct  circles  we  presuppose  an  even  (or  homaloidal) 
scope  of  motion.  We  presuppose  that  distances  are  definite  and 
measurable.  We  presuppose  the  existence  and  workableness  of  the 
compasses.  The  ruler  is  first  and  the  compasses  second.  The  circle, 
being  begotten  of  the  radius,  presupposes  the  straight  line.  In  fact 
the  compasses  determine  the  size  of  a  straight  line,  for  the  essential 
part  of  the  compasses  consists  in  the  adjustability  of  its  two  points, 


Y5 


not  in  the  two  legs.  The  two  legs  are  merely  a  convenience.  Thev 
are  the  machinery  to  fix  the  points  and  a  handle  to  turn  them  in 
their  fixed  position.  We  might  as  well  use  a  string  pinned  down  at 
one  end  and  having  a  pencil  at  the  other;  and  what  is  a  string 
stretched  tight  if  not  a  materialization  of  the  straight  line? 

We  here  reproduce  Mr.  Russell's  diagram  which  shows  on  two 
circles  what  he  proposes  to  do  with  three  spheres  for  the  sake  of 
developing  the  straight  line  by  means  of  the  compasses  only  and 
without  the  ruler.  In  order  to  show  the  several  openings  of  the 
compasses  used,  he  draws  -the  radii  and  thus  makes  visible  what  they 
involve.  Just  look  at  all  these  straight  lines  which  are  here  intro- 
duced as  auxiliary  constructions,  and  there  are  still  more  of  them 
doing  obstetrical  service  for  the  birth  of  the  straight  line  from  the 


406  THE   MONIST. 

cooperation  of  the  three  spheres.  The  very  spheres  themselves  have 
been  begotten  by  the  straight  line,  which  first  performing  the  func- 
tion of  a  radius,  made  one  end  stay  in  one  place  (the  center)  and 
let  the  other  swing  around  it ;  then  having  created  the  circle  it  was 
again  the  straight  line  which  as  a  diameter  of  the  circle  served  as 
an  axis  of  its  rotation  so  as  to  produce  the  sphere.  Verily  Mr. 
Russell  is  right  and  we  repeat  his  proposition  with  religious  solem- 
nity. All  things  in  mathematics  have  been  made  by  the  straight 
line. 

Mr.  Russell's  contention  would  be  proved  only  if  he  could  make 
his  construction  with  the  circle  alone  and  dispense  with  the  ruler 
entirely ;  he  should  also  dispense  with  it  in  his  proof.  But  he  can  not. 
His  construction  does  not  create  a  straight  line;  in  fact  it  creates 
no  line  at  all,  but  only  (as  he  says  himself)  a  range  of  points,  and 
all  we  have  to  grant  is  that  his  range  of  points  lies  in  a  straight  line. 
But  how  does  he  prove  it?  How  do  we  know  and  in  what  way  can 
the  site  of  this  range  of  points  as  being  in  a  straight  line,  be  deter- 
mined? We  can  determine  it  only  by  having  a  clear  conception  of 
a  straight  line  and  bringing  it  to  bear  on  our  range  of  points.  We 
must  make  the  straight  line  run  through  the  range  of  points  thus 
constructed  by  Mr.  Russell  and  prove  that  they  all  lie  in  the  path 
of  the  straight  line.  In  other  words,  any  range  of  points  does  not 
constitute  a  line,  and  unless  we  have  the  idea  of  a  straight  line,  we 
can  not  bridge  the  distance  between  any  two  points  ( let  alone  a  great 
number  of  points)  and  then  declare  that  we  have  accomplished  the 
task. 

The  fundamental  error  of  Mr.  Russell,  M.  Fourier,  and  all  who 
have  made  kindred  attempts,  consists  in  the  assumption  that  mathe- 
matics has  to  start  from  a  blank  and  is  an  a  priori  construction  out 
of  nothing.  Mathematics  starts  from  an  absence  of  all  concrete 
existence,  and  this  can  be  called  "nothing"  only  in  a  certain  sense. 
The  domain  of  mathematics  is  a  nothingness  in  the  sense  of  an 
absence  of  all  materiality,  of  all  forces,  of  energy,  of  all  bodily 
existences,  and  of  all  concreteness.  As  I  have  expressed  it  in  my 
Foundations  of  Mathematics,  the  mathematician  starts  from  a  state 
of  "anyness"  and  this  absence  of  all  concrete  existence  is  not  an  ab- 
solute nothing.  Anyness  involves  homogeneity  and  homogeneity  is 
the  characteristic  feature  of  mathematical  space — the  scope  of  mo- 
tion for  the  mathematician's  operations. 

The  mathematician  performs  operations,  but  his  operations  are 
pure  motions  of  anyness,  which  means  they  are  stripped  of  all  par- 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  407 

ticularity  and  concreteness.  They  are  devoided  of  matter  and  energy 
with  all  their  qualities.  Thus  the  determination  of  a  locus  is  a  mere 
point  without  extension  and  its  motion  produces  mere  length  with- 
out breadth  or  thickness,  etc.  Everywhere  we  meet  with  that  subtle 
fabric  of  anyness  which  is  a  true  nothing  in  the  sense  of  the  ab- 
sence of  everything  concrete,  but  not  an  absolute  nothing.  In  this 
anyness  the  mathematician  operates  and  his  mode  of  operation  is  a 
work  of  anyness. 

Mathematical  space  which  is  the  domain  of  anyness  in  which  the 
mathematician  performs  his  operations,  includes  the  possibility  of 
constructing  even  boundaries,  and  even  boundaries  are  needed  for 
mathematical  constructions  on  account  of  their  quality  of  being 
unique.  Uniqueness  is  needed  in  order  to  have  a  standard  of  ref- 
erence. The  three  even  boundaries  which  thus  recommend  them- 
selves by  their  uniqueness  as  standards  of  reference,  are  the  straight 
line,  the  plane,  and  the  right  angle,  and  they  make  it  possible  to 
construct  parallel  lines.  Accordingly  it  is  obvious  that  the  problems 
of  the  straight  line,  of  the  plane,  of  the  right  angle,  of  the  sum  of 
the  angles  in  a  triangle  as  equal  to  two  right  angles,  and  of  paral- 
lelism are  practically  the  same  problem,  and  it  is  impossible  to  con- 
struct any  one  of  them  from  nothing  with  the  help  of  pure  logic  only. 
In  addition  to  pure  logic,  the  mathematician  needs  for  the  construc- 
tion of  his  science  the  concept  of  anyness  which  yields  that  most  in- 
dispensable quality  of  mathematical  space,  homogeneity  without 
which  mathematics  would  be  impossible. 

This  idea  of  anyness  is  a  product  of  abstraction  and  the  mathe- 
matician should  know  its  origin  as  well  as  its  application  in  order  to 
understand  the  foundation  of  his  science. 

EDITOR. 

SOME  REMARKS  ON  MR.  RUSSELL'S  ARTICLE,  "A 
MODERN  ZENO." 

I  have  been  reading  with  interest  the  April  number  of  The 
Monist,  especially  "The  Choice  of  Facts,"  by  H.  Poincare,  and  "A 
Newly  Discovered  Treatise  of  Archimedes,"  by  J.  L.  Heiberg.  I 
was  attracted  by  the  title  "A  Modern  Zeno,"  and  I  was  very  much 
surprised  to  learn  the  identity  of  the  man.  Mr.  Russell,  the  writer 
of  the  article,  has  evidently  made  some  study  of  Non-Euclidean 
Geometry,  especially  of  the  writings  of  Lobatchevsky.  But  truly 
"a  little  learning  is  a  dangerous  thing."  His  study  has  been  super- 


408  THE  MONIST. 

ficial  and  without  understanding.  It  is  not  my  intention  to  criticise 
the  article  in  detail,  but  to  point  out  two  errors  that  make  it  almost 
worthless. 

On  page  294,  it  is  stated  that  the  straight  line  containing  the 
vertex  of  an  isosceles  right  triangle  and  the  midpoint  of  the  hypot- 
enuse divides  the  triangle  into  two  equal  isosceles  right  triangles. 
That  these  two  triangles  are  equal  right  triangles  is  true  in  the 
geometry  of  Lobatchevsky,  but  that  they  are  isosceles  cannot  be 
proved  from  his  assumptions,  although  Mr.  Russell  says  that  the 
proof  is  so  simple  that  it  would  be  an  imputation  upon  the  reader 
to  spread  it  before  him. 

On  pages  300-302,  Mr.  Russell  has  given  what  he  thinks  is  a 
proof  that  the  geometry  of  Lobatchevsky  is  self-contradictory.  His 
error  is  due  to  the  fact  that  he  used  Theorem  25  without  under- 
standing it.  It  is  true  that  he  has  stated  it  in  the  exact  words 
of  Halsted's  translation  of  Lobatchevsky's  Researches  on  the  Theory 
of  Parallels,  namely  "Two  straight  lines  which  are  parallel  to  a 
third  are  parallel  to  each  other";  but  either  he  did  not  read  the 
proof  given  there  or  he  did  not  understand  it.  The  theorem  as 
stated  is  incorrect  or  perhaps  I  should  say  it  is  incomplete.  But  this 
fact  would  not  have  been  misleading  if  he  had  read  and  understood 
the  proof.  On  page  34  of  H.  P.  Manning's  Non-Euclidean  Geom- 
etry, the  theorem  is  more  carefully  stated  as  follows:  "Two  lines 
parallel  to  a  third  toward  the  same  part  of  the  third  are  parallel  to 
each  other."  Indeed  it  is  stated  on  page  13  of  Halsted's  translation 
that  in  the  geometry  of  Lobatchevsky  we  must  make  a  distinction 
of  sides  in  parallelism.  Mr.  Russell's  failure  to  take  account  of  this 
distinction  vitiates  his  argument.  That  he  has  utterly  failed  to  com- 
prehend the  distinction  is  evidenced  by  the  following  statement 
taken  from  the  bottom  of  page  302 :  "Now  by  the  very  same  course 
of  deduction  (no  step  of  which  is  unsanctioned  in  the  'system'  of 
Lobatchevsky)  the  line  KAK'  is  shown  parallel  to  HAH'  and  to 
EAE',  in  spite  of  the  rather  important  fact  that  they  cut  one  another 
at  A." 

It  seems  that  Mr.  Russell  has  some  doubt  as  to  the  correctness 
of  his  conclusion,  for  on  page  303  are  these  words :  "Still  it  may  be 
that  there  is  something  about  the  matter  that  I  do  not  understand. 
If  so,  I  can  only  protest  that  my  failure  is  not  due  to  any  lack  of 
respectful  (I  do  not  want  to  say  absurdly  respectful)  study  of 
Lobachevsky's  little  brochure."  It  looks  to  me  as  if  Mr.  Russell 
did  want  to  say  "absurdly  respectful."  My  comment  is  this :  Perhaps 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  409 

it  was  respectful.  Certainly  it  was  superficial  and  without  much 
comprehension,  especially  in  connection  with  Theorem  25.  The  first 
of  the  two  errors  I  have  mentioned  shows  his  lack  of  understanding 
of  the  details  of  Lobatchevsky's  geometry,  but  it  is  not  so  serious 
because  it  led  him  merely  to  some  remarks  about  a  "bent  plane." 
The  second  error  is  more  serious  because  it  led  him  to  the  conclusion 
that  Lobatchevsky's  geometry  is  self -contradictory  and  that  "we  find 
Lobatchevsky  hitting  upon  the  right  and  sufficient  way  of  proving 
the  parallel  postulate  of  Euclid." 

The  Monist  is  devoted  to  the  philosophy  of  science,  and  articles 
on  Non-Euclidean  Geometry  are  certainly  not  out  of  place  in  its 
pages.  A  good  paper  on  the  subject  or  its  philosophic  import  may 
be  written  by  one  who  is  not  an  expert  mathematician,  but  it  seems 
to  me  that  such  a  paper  should  be  carefully  read  by  an  expert 
mathematician  before  publication,  so  that  errors  due  to  the  author's 
lack  of  knowledge  of  the  technique  of  the  mathematics  involved 
may  be  eliminated.  Certainly  this  should  be  done  when  an  author 
thinks  he  has  found  a  fallacy  in  a  doctrine  accepted  as  sound  by 
mathematicians  the  world  over. 

W.  H.  BUSSEY. 

UNIVERSITY  OF  MINNESOTA. 


PROFESSOR  LOVEJOY  ON  "DER  VORCHRISTLICHE 

JESUS." 

The  following  reply  to  Professor  Lovejoy's  criticism  was  prom- 
ised in  a  footnote  for  the  January  number  of  The  Monist  and  was 
in  fact  written  out  in  full  nearly  two  weeks  before  October  29, 
1908,  when  I  sailed  for  Chile.  But  as  the  protracted  absence  from 
the  United  States  that  followed  rendered  it  quite  impossible  either  to 
give  the  paper  final  revision  or  for  me  to  see  the  proofs,  if  it  should 
be  issued  in  January,  it  seemed  best  to  hold  it  back  for  the  present 
number.  The  occasion  for  any  rejoinder  whatever  is  supplied  not 
by  the  argumentative  appeal  of  the  review,  which  may  be  safely  left 
to  the  judgment  of  readers  of  the  book,  but  by  its  strictures  upon 
the  author's  treatment  of  authorities,  especially  of  Hippolytus. 

Imprimis,  let  me  thank  Professor  Love  joy  for  the  general  man- 
ner of  his  review.  While  not  exposing  fully  the  argumentative 
nerve  of  the  work  in  hand,  he  seems  really  to  have  intended  to  get 
at  the  heart  of  the  matter,  and  his  statement  of  the  main  drift  of 
the  essays  calls  for  acknowledgement.  Moreover,  he  has  not  shrunk 


4IO  THE  MONIST. 

from  making  certain  concessions,  which  seem  to  be  far-reaching, 
however  restricted  they  may  have  been  in  the  purpose  of  the  le- 
viewer. 

I.  It  is  particularly  in  dealing  with  Hippolytus  that  Professor 
Lovejoy's  criticism  calls  for  comment.  He  has,  in  fact,  in  terms 
doubtless  meant  to  be  as  delicate  as  possible,  charged  upon  me  un- 
fairness in  citation.  He  quotes  from  p.  123  that  Hippolytus  "de- 
clares repeatedly  that  the  Naassenes  were  the  first  of  the  heretical 
sects,  from  whom  all  the  others  afterwards  known  as  Gnostics  de- 
rived (Ref.  V.  6,  10,  n)."  "We  may  quite  definitely  conclude, 
therefore,  in  agreement  with  Hippolytus,  that  Naassenism  was  an- 
tecedent to  Christianity,  that  it  flourished  before  the  Cross  was 
preached,  and  that  the  later  forms  of  Gnosticism  were  its  offspring" 
(p.  124). 

To  these  sentences,  thinks  Professor  Love  joy,  the  readers  of 
Hippolytus  will  "revert  with  some  astonishment."  First,  he  denies 
that  H.  in  the  "passages  cited  makes  any  such  statement  as  that 
ascribed  to  him,  about  the  descent  of  all  other  Gnostic  doctrines 
from  Naassenism" ;  secondly,  he  declares  that  "H.  in  plain  terms 
describes  the  Naassenes  as  Christians.  They  are  classified  as  a 
"heresy" ;  they  taught  that  the  archetypal  Man  "descended  in  one 
man,  Jesus,  who  was  born  of  Mary"  (V,  6)  ;  they  traced  their  doc- 
trine "through  Mariamne  to  James,  the  brother  of  the  Lord" — which, 
of  course,  shows  them  not  only  Christian  but  also,  at  earliest,  of 
the  first  or  second  generation  after  the  Apostles.  Dr.  Smith's 
omission  to  mention  any  of  these  statements  of  H.,  and  his  citing 
of  that  authority  as  a  witness  in  favor  of  a  view  of  the  date  of  the 
Naassenes  which  the  very  same  chapters  of  the  Refutatio  categor- 
ically contradict — this  is  a  thing  so  amazing  that  it  is  difficult  to 
comment  upon  it  with  propriety."  In  a  word,  the  gravamen  of  his 
charge  is  that  the  author  has  suppressed  statements  of  H.  that  show 
precisely  the  opposite  of  what  the  author  ascribes  to  H. 

Let  us  see.  It  may  not  be  necessary  to  weary  the  reader  with 
citation,  but  in  any  case  the  matter  is  too  serious  to  pass  over 
lightly. 

Does  H.  declare  repeatedly  that  the  Naasseni  were  the  first 
Gnostics?  Book  V  of  the  Refutatio  opens  thus:  "The  following 
are  the  contents  of  the  fifth  book  of  the  Refutation  of  all  Heresies : 
What  the  assertions  are  of  the  Naasseni  who  style  themselves  Gnos- 
tics." It  is  not  here  said  of  the  following  Peratae,  Sethians,  Jus- 
tinians,  that  they  called  themselves  Gnostics,  but  only  of  the  Naas- 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  411 

seni.  To  my  mind  there  is  here  a  general  identification  of  Naassenes 
and  Gnostics,  stated  almost  as  clearly  as  Hippolytus  states  anything. 
Again  H.  proposes  here  (and  the  sentiment  is  repeated  in  VI,  6 
and  X,  9),  "to  begin  from  those  that  have  dared  to  celebrate  a 
serpent,  the  author  of  the  error  (TOV  alnov  rij<s  TrAai/^s  ycvouevov  5(f>iv 
vfjLvelv) . . .  .The  priests  then  and  champions  of  the  system  (Soy/Aaros) 
have  been  first  those  surnamed  Naasseni  (TTP&TOI  ol  t7nK\rjOci>Te<s  Noao- 
(rrjvoi),  in  the  Hebrew  tongue  so  named — for  the  serpent  (6  cty«)  is 
called  Naas"  The  decisive  adjective  first  is  seemingly  unobserved 
by  Professor  Lovejoy,*  who  remarks  queerly  that  the  phrase  "after- 
wards called  themselves  Gnostics"  "does  not  imply  that  they  were 
the  only  or  the  first  heretics  who  did  so."  Apparently  in  eagerness 
to  convict  the  author  of  misstatement,  Professor  Lovejoy  seems  to 
overlook  logical  pitfalls.  If  the  Naassenes  were  not  the  first  Gnos- 
tics, then  the  latter  must  be  even  older  than  the  author  maintains, 
which  would  strengthen  the  general  position  of  his  book  perceptibly. 
These  Naassenes  who  called  themselves  Gnostics  were  the  first  in 
championship  of  the  dogma  (Gnosticism).  If  this  does  not  mean 
that  they  were  the  first  Gnostics,  what  does  it  mean?  And  if  they 
were  not  the  first,  who  pray  were  the  first?  And  who  were  the 
others,  if  they  were  not  the  only?  H.  continues:  "Afterwards  they 
surnamed  themselves  Gnostics,  declaring  they  alone  knew  the  depths." 
There  is  no  hint  that  they  took  the  name  Gnostics  from  any  others ; 
they  surnamed  themselves  so  for  a  specific  reason:  they  nicknamed 
themselves  Knoivers,  because  they  alone  did  know.  The  only  fair 
understanding  of  such  words  is  that  the  surname  Gnostics  originated 
with  these  Naassenes ;  in  the  absence  of  any  counter-indication,  we 
must  affirm  as  much.  H.  proceeds :  "From  whom  many  having  parted 
off  multifariously  constituted  the  heresy,  though  essentially  one,  in 
different  dogmas  detailing  the  same  things,  as  the  discussion  as  it 
advances  shall  prove."  From  this  passage,  in  connection  with  others 
similar,  I  have  inferred  that  H.  would  represent  the  Naassenes,  sur- 
named Gnostics,  as  the  first  Gnostics,  from  whom  all  other  Gnostics 
sprung,  the  heresy  having  parted  into  many  subdivisions.  Is  not  the 
inference  fair?  Professor  Lovejoy  holds  that  it  refers  "merely  to 
the  diverse  subdivisions  of  the  Ophite  Sect."  But  Ophite  Sect  means 
Ophites,  and  this  is  merely  the  Greek  for  Naassenes  (6<$>i<>  =  naas , 
says  H.),  and  this  was  the  earlier  name  for  such  as  "surnamed 

*  But  not  by  Mansel,  e.  g.,  who  repeatedly  speaks  of  these  sectaries  as 
"first,"  "earliest  Gnostics."  "The  Naassenes,  the  earliest  sect  according  to 
the  arrangement  of  H.,  are  spoken  of  by  him  as  the  first  body  who  assumed 
the  name  of  Gnostics"  (Gnostic  Heresies,  7,  95,  104). 


412  THE  MONIST. 

themselves  Gnostics."  That  my  interpretation  was  not  forced,  but 
perfectly  natural,  is  made  clear  by  the  remark  of  Dr.  Salmond  in  a 
footnote  to  his  translation  of  H. :  "yvwo-is, — a  term  often  alluded 
to  by  St.  John,  and  which  gives  its  name  "Gnosticism"  to  the 
various  forms  of  the  Ophitic  heresy."  The  position  of  the  great 
English  scholar,  who  certainly  has  no  bias  in  favor  of  Der  vorchrist- 
liche  Jesus,  seems  to  agree  precisely  with  the  position  which  Professor 
Lovejoy  so  criticises — and  yet  seems  to  adopt  as  his  own! 

Further  on  (V,  8)  H.  designates  these  same  Naassenes  out- 
right as  "the  Gnostics":  "Following  these  and  the  like,  the  most 
marvelous  Gnostics,  inventors  of  a  new  grammatic  art...." 

Again,  in  quoting  the  Naassene  Parable  of  the  Sower :  "That  is, 
he  says,  none  becomes  a  hearer  of  these  mysteries  except  only  the 
gnostici  perfecti  (oi  yvwoTi/cot  re'Aeioi)." 

Again,  (V,  n):  "These  (the  foregoing)  doctrines,  then,  the 
Naasseni  attempt  to  establish,  naming  themselves  Gnostics.  But 
since  the  error  is  many-headed  and  diversified,  as  in  truth  the  hydra 
that  history  tells  of,  when  at  one  blow,  wielding  the  wand  of  truth, 
we  have  struck  off  the  heads  of  this  (heresy)  by  means  of  refuta- 
tion, we  shall  exterminate  the  whole  monster.  For  neither  do  the 
remaining  heresies  show  off  much  different  from  this,  being  mu- 
tually connected  in  spirit  of  error.  But  since,  altering  the  words 
and  the  names  of  the  Serpent  (o<£ca>s),  they  wished  there  to  be  many 
heads  of  the  Serpent,  neither  so  shall  we  fail  to  refute  them  as  they 
will."  So  closes  H.  his  38-page  long  treatment  of  the  Naasseni. 
The  extreme  length  of  this  treatment,  greater  than  is  given  any 
other  single  heresy,  shows  clearly  their  decisive  importance  in  his 
eyes.  Playing  on  the  terms  Naas  and  Ophis,  he  likens  this  Naas- 
senism  (Ophism)  to  a  Hydra,  he  seems  to  identify  it  with  Gnosti- 
cism, he  thinks  that  in  beheading  it  he  has  beheaded  all  heresies, 
since  the  rest  (at  Aowrai)  are  held  together  (with  it)  in  spirit  of 
error ;  he  does  not  regard  the  rest  as  really  worth  while ;  nevertheless 
(dAA'),  since  they  are  heads  of  the  same  Serpent  (that  is,  outgrowths 
of  the  same  Naassenism — Ophism),  he  will  smite  them  also  one  by 
one,  and  this  he  straightway  proceeds  to  do  in  the  remainder  of  his 
work.  If  not  then  quite  as  plain  as  day,  it  is  at  least  as  plain  as 
anything  in  the  Refutatio,  that  H.  regards  his  task  as  in  principle 
fulfilled  with  the  slaughter  of  the  Hydra  or  Serpent  of  Naassenism ; 
but  to  make  assurance  double  sure  he  will  thrice  slay  the  slain,  he  will 
smite  to  death  through  his  following  pages  every  form  of  the  many- 
headed  monster.  The  simile  is  faulty,  but  the  meaning  is  clear. 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  413 

Manifestly  H.  must  and  does  regard  these  "remaining  heresies"  as 
second  in  importance  and  still  more  in  time.  The  multifission  of  the 
Hydra  must  follow  and  could  not  precede  the  Hydra  itself.  It  is 
evident  beyond  argument  that  H.  regards  these  "other  heresies"  as 
later  and  as  offshoots  of  primitive  Naassenism.  He  does  not  in- 
deed say  "all  other  heresies,"  but  he  does  say  "the  remaining  her- 
esies." The  meaning  is  the  same.  H.  is  speaking  of  a  class  of 
things,  and  a  single  class,  and  the  "all"  was  not  necessary.  He  was 
not  careful  to  guard  against  quibbling  that  he  could  not  anticipate. 
This  use  of  the  article  in  a  universal  sense  is  regular  in  Greek. 
Euclid  does  not  say  "All  parallelograms  on  equal  bases  and  between 
the  same  parallels  are  equal  to  one  another"  but  "£/i£  parallelograms" 
(TO,  -Tra/oaAAr/Aoy/oa/x/xa)  ;  so  in  the  famous  47th  it  is  not  "in  a//"  but 
"In  the  right-angled  triangles"  (cv  rots  opO.  r/oty.)  The  case  is  not 
different  in  English;  says  the  master  logician,  W.  Stanley  Jevons 
(Elementary  Lessons  in  Logic,  p.  65)  "I  shall  frequently  use  propo- 
sitions in  the  indefinite  form  as  examples,  on  the  understanding  that 
where  no  sign  of  quantity  appears,  the  universal  quantity  is  to  be 
assumed.  It  is  probable  that  wherever  a  term  is  used  alone,  it  ought 
be  interpreted  as  meaning  the  whole  of  its  class."  Such  is  plainly 
the  necessary  interpretation  here ;  for  if  not  all  forms  of  Gnosticism 
be  derived  from  this  primitive  (in  H's  estimation),  then  he  must 
have  supposed  some  other  independent  primitive.  But  is  there  the 
slightest  shred  of  evidence  that  he  ever  assumed  two  original  sources 
of  Gnosticism?  Or  that  there  ever  was  any  other  than  the  one 
Ophitic  source?  Entia  non  multiplicanda  sunt  praeter  necessitate™. 
This  razor  of  Occam  shears  off  any  other  stem  until  its  necessity  is 
proved,  and  no  proof  has  ever  been  attempted.  What  form  of 
Gnosticism  was  there  that  could  not  be  traced  back  to  Naassenism, 
in  H's  conception?  What  Dr.  Salmond  thought  of  the  matter  ap- 
pears clearly  in  the  heading  he  has  given  to  this  chapter  VI :  "The 
Ophites  the  Grand  Source  of  Heresy,"  and  again  to  chapter  I,  Book 
VI:  "The  Ophites  the  Progenitors  of  Subsequent  Heresies." 

I  should  here  remark  that  in  my  original  thought  only  the  first 
part  of  Professor  Love  joy's  quotation,  was  intended  as  a  declaration 
of  H.,  "That  the  Naassenes  were  the  first  of  the  heretical  sects" ;  the 
following  clause,  "from  whom  etc.  derived,"  was  intended  merely 
as  my  own  inference  gathering  up  the  diffuse  and  disconnected  de- 
liverances of  H.  into  a  single  statement.  The  reader  now  has  the 
facts  sufficiently  presented,  and  in  view  of  them  I  maintain  with 
added  emphasis  that  the  natural  and  hardly  avoidable  inference  from 


414  THE  MONIST. 

the  words  of  H.  is  that  he  regarded  all  "the  other  heresies"  or  forms 
of  Gnosticism  as  diversifications  of  primitive  Naassenism.  Possibly 
the  language  of  the  text  may  sound  a  little  dogmatic,  but  the  explana- 
tion is  easy  to  find,  by  glancing  at  the  opposite  page,  122,  where  it 
is  stated  that  unfortunately  it  was  not  possible  to  go  into  details  at 
that  point,  but  that  only  the  general  lines  of  the  argument  could  be 
laid  down.  In  fact,  the  detailed  treatment  of  the  whole  testimony 
of  H.  has  for  some  years  lain  in  my  desk  in  manuscript,  waiting 
upon  a  similar  treatment  of  Irenaeus,  not  yet  completed,  the  two 
to  be  published  together.  Pages  122-4  merely  resumed  under  heads 
A,  B,  C,  D  in  briefest  terms  some  main  results  of  that  study.  But 
even  as  it  stands  there  is  naught  to  retract.  The  statement  of  the 
text  is  borne  out  by  comparison  of  all  the  pertinent  passages  in  H. 

Of  itself  the  criticism  of  Professor  Lovejoy  may  not  seem  to 
call  for  so  much  attention;  but  it  may  be  properly  used  as  an  occa- 
sion to  set  an  important  matter  in  clearer  relief. 

However,  it  is  not  this  quotation  that  most  moves  the  amaze- 
ment of  Professor  Lovejoy,  not  to  say  his  virtuous  indignation.  It 
is  the  alleged  suppression  of  the  alleged  counter-testimony  of  H., 
that  the  Naassenes  were  at  the  earliest  post-apostolic.  Now  if  the 
pages  in  question  had  professed  to  give  full  discussion  of  the  matter, 
this  "omission"  might  justly  have  excited  more  than  marvel.  In 
fact,  however,  they  profess  no  such  thing;  they  give  intentionally 
no  discussion  at  all  but  merely  state  certain  results  to  which  the 
writer  had  been  led  by  a  minute  study,  yet  unpublished.  Now  these 
results  were  all  that  the  pages  professed  to  state ;  the  minute  investi- 
gation is  a  large  part  of  a  volume  yet  in  manuscript.  In  that  volume 
the  reader  will  find  a  discussion  of  the  passages  referred  to  by  Pro- 
fessor Lovejoy — a  discussion  almost  painfully  minute.  The  results 
stated  on  page  123  are  not  in  the  least  affected  by  the  passages  in 
question.  They  hold  firmly  in  spite  of  those  passages.  Such  being 
the  case,  I  felt  and  still  feel  myself  justified  in  stating  the  results 
arrived  at,  without  any  mention  of  passages  that  do  not  really  in- 
validate those  results.  In  such  a  summary  statement  of  conclusions 
it  would  be  out  of  place  to  refer  to  objections  that  do  not  really 
hold.  Their  "omission"  does  not  imply  that  such  objections  can  not 
be  made,  but  only  that  in  the  opinion  of  the  writer  they  can  be  satis- 
factorily answered.  In  the  present  case  the  passages  were  not 
quoted,  because  they  appeared  trivial.  My  critic  may  hold  that  so 
far  from  being  trivial  they  are  weighty  and  even  decisive.  The 
reader  may  judge.  Professor  Lovejoy  says:  "H.  in  plain  terms 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  415 

describes  the  Naassenes  as  Christians."  He  does  indeed  quote  a 
Naassene  writer  as  saying:  "And  of  all  men  we  Christians  alone 
are  those  who  in  the  third  gate  celebrate  the  mystery  etc."  (V,  9). 
But  what  of  it  ?  When  the  Naassenes  assumed  this  name  is  not  said, 
not  hinted,  neither  do  we  know  how  old  is  the  name  itself.  It  may 
very  well  be  pre-Christian.  There  is  in  fact  a  double  reference  in 
the  word  Christian,  to  which  I  had  never  supposed  it  would  be 
necessary  to  advert,  namely  a  chronological  and  a  dogmatic  ref- 
erence. Chronologically  Christian  refers  definitely  to  the  year  I  of 
our  era  and  later;  before  the  beginning  of  that  year,  everything 
was  pre-Christian.  Dogmatically  it  refers  to  the  general  thought- 
content  of  the  propaganda  that  has  spread  over  Europe  and  America. 
This  Christian  content,  I  contend,  was  in  large  measure  pre-Christian 
in  time.  The  Naassenes  might  have  called  themselves  Christians 
before  A.  D.  I,  though  I  by  no  means  affirm  that  they  did  so 
"Christians"  (i.  e.,  Christ-servants)  may  have  been  one  of  their  later 
names. 

Professor  Love  joy  continues:  "They  are  classified  as  a  'her- 
esy.' "  This  has  no  significance,  no  evidential  value.  "Heresy" 
simply  meant  sect,  school,  set  of  philosophic  or  religious  principles, 
and  there  is  no  reason  for  supposing  ihat  heterodoxy  must  be  later 
than  orthodoxy.  In  my  judgment  the  heresies  were  not  in  general 
deviations  from  existent  orthodoxy ;  on  the  contrary,  they  were 
more  ancient  forms  of  faith,  which  orthodoxy  had  outgrown  and 
left  behind ;  just  as  errors  in  syntax  and  pronunciation  are  very  often 
only  elder  correct  forms  of  speech,  which  the  language  has  at  last 
rejected. 

Professor  Lovejoy  again:  "They  traced  their  doctrine  "through 
Mariamne  to  James,  the  brother  of  the  Lord" — which  of  course, 
shows  them  not  only  Christian  but  also  at  earliest  of  the  first  or 
second  generation  after  the  Apostles."  "H.  plainly  and  consistently 
describes  them  as  a  late  first-century  or  second-century  school."  In- 
deed! So  then  they  were  at  earliest  near  the  beginning  of  the 
second  century !  It  is  hard  not  to  smile  at  the  naivete  of  these  deliv- 
erances. Of  Mariamne  we  know  little  or  nought.  Origen  indeed 
speaks  of  the  followers  of  this  shadowy  character  as  mentioned  by 
Celsus,  but  himself  had  met  none  of  them  (C.  C.  V.  62).  But  "James, 
the  brother  of  the  Lord"!  Here  Professor  Lovejoy  assumes  the 
whole  point  in  controversy.  If  James  was  really  the  flesh-and-blood 
"brother  of  the  Lord"  (i.  e.,  of  Jesus),  then  the  book  reviewed  was 
not  worth  reviewing.  But  can  it  be  that  any  one  really  attaches 


THE  MONIST. 

weight  to  this  expression,  even  when  strengthened  by  the  prefix 
"twin"?  Least  of  all  men  does  Professor  Lovejoy  need  to  be  taught 
about  kinship  in  the  Orient.  Who  can  forget  the  answer  of  this  same 
"Jesus"  to  the  question  "Who  are  my  brethren"?  How  "looking 
round  on  them  which  sat  round  about  him,  he  saith,  Behold,  my 
mother  and  my  brethren !  For  whosoever  shall  do  the  will  of  God, 
the  same  is  my  brother,  and  sister,  and  mother."  It  would  be  hard 
to  imagine  a  passage  more  thoroughly  in  accord  with  the  contentions 
of  the  work  reviewed.  In  Matt,  xxviii.  10  the  same  Jesus  says 
"Fear  not;  go,  announce  to  my  brothers."  And  in  John  xx.  17  "Go 
to  my  brothers  and  say  to  them,"  clearly  meaning  disciples.  Jerome 
understood  the  matter  better,  for  he  says,  commenting  on  Gal.  i.  19, 
"James  was  called  the  brother  of  the  Lord  because  of  his  great  char- 
acter, his  incomparable  faith,  and  his  extraordinary  wisdom."  The 
Epistle  attributed  to  James  shows  not  the  faintest  trace  of  blood 
kinship  with  Jesus,  in  fact  nowhere  suggests  the  New  Testament 
story,  but  expounds  solely  the  philosophical  morality  of  the  Disper- 
sion. As  well  might  one  think  of  Epictetus  or  Marcus  Aurelius  as 
of  its  author  as  consanguineous  with  Jesus.  The  phrase  "Brothers 
of  the  Lord"  seems  to  be  merely  one  of  a  score  of  names  borne  by 
groups  of  early  propagandists.  As  such  a  class  name  it  appears  in 
i  Cor.  ix.  5,  "The  Apostles  and  the  Brethren  of  the  Lord  and  Ke- 
phas."  We  need  not  then  "strike  out"  anything  "from  Hippolytus's 
text" ;  these  "numerous  passages"  are  not  "unfavorable  to  the  the- 
ory of  a  pre-Christian  Jesus."  But  even  if  they  were,  what  would 
it  signify?  Simply  that  H.  himself  did  not  embrace  that  theory,  that 
he  occupied  the  modern  standpoint  of  Professor  Lovejoy.  And 
doubtless  he  did.  Like  Epiphanius  and  all  the  heresiographers  he 
was  an  Old  Catholic  and  held  fast  to  the  view  established  against 
the  "heretics"  in  the  second  century  and  prevalent  to-day.  Even 
had  he  explicitly  declared  the  Naassenes  were  post-Christian  in 
origin,  it  would  not  matter ;  for  he  would  merely  have  been  ex- 
pressing what  must  have  been  his  faith,  whether  with  or  without 
evidence,  whether  consistent  or  inconsistent  with  acknowledged  facts. 
The  truth  is,  all  the  heresiologues  are  special  pleaders.  They  had 
to  make  out  a  certain  case  against  the  "heresies" ;  they  had  to  post- 
date them,  in  order  to  uphold  their  dogmas.  It  made  no  difference 
that  unmanageable  facts  embarrassed  their  faith ;  the  more  intract- 
able the  fact,  the  more  steadfast  their  faith;  with  Tertullian  they 
cried  out,  "I  believe  it,  because  it  is  impossible."  Hence  the  delib- 
erate statements  of  these  excellent  men  regarding  heresiarchs  and 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  417 

their  dates  count  but  for  very  little,  being  divided  by  such  a  large 
factor  of  prejudice.  All  the  more  heavy  do  their  unthoughted 
statements  fall  into  the  scale.  Their  unmeditated  words  are  also  un- 
medicated.  It  is  these  we  are  to  heed  most  closely,  from  these  we 
must  draw  out  the  implications  of  which  the  authors  were  uncon- 
scious. It  was  Thenius  (I  believe)  who  shrewdly  said  of  a  datum 
given  by  Josephus:  "This  statement  appears  to  have  been  made  in- 
cautiously ;  we  may  therefore  accept  it  as  correct."  Professor  Love- 
joy  smiles  at  "the  humorous  idea  of  a  conspiracy  of  silence  about 
the  Nasaraioi" ;  but  why  should  such  a  conspiracy  be  more  unlikely 
in  the  third  century  than  in  the  twentieth?  It  would  imply  only 
a  general  motive  operating  on  the  writers:  a  bewilderment  as  to 
how  to  deal  with  these  ancients, — a  bewilderment  manifest  enough 
among  moderns  also. 

Now  let  us  see  how  the  whole  representation  of  H.  impresses 
a  competent  English  specialist  certainly  orthodox  enough  to  please 
Professor  Lovejoy.  Speaking  of  Hippolytus  on  Justinus,  Dr.  Sal- 
mond  says :  "What  H.  here  states  respecting  Justinus  is  quite  new. 
No  mention  occurs  of  this  heretic  in  ecclesiastical  history.  It  is 
evident,  however,  that,  like  Simon  Magus,  he  was  contemporary 
with  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul  [an  elder  contemporary  according  to 
Acts  viii.  9, — W.  B.  S.]  Justinus,  however,  and  the  Ophitic  sect 
to  which  he  belonged,  are  assigned  by  H.  and  Irenseus  a  prior  posi- 
tion as  regards  the  order  of  their  appearance  to  the  system  of  Simon, 
or  its  offshoot  Valentinianism.  The  Ophites  engrafted  Phrygian 
Judaism,  and  the  Valentinians  Gentilism,  upon  Christianity ;  the  for- 
mer not  rejecting  the  speculations  and  mysteries  of  Asiatic  paganism, 
and  the  latter  availing  themselves  of  the  cabbalistic  corruptions  of 
Judaism.  The  Judaistic  element  soon  became  prominent  in  succes- 
sive phases  of  Valentinianism,  which  produced  a  fusion  of  the  sects 
of  the  old  Gnostics  and  of  Simon.  Hippolytus,  however,  now  places 
the  Ophitic  sect  before  us  prior  to  its  amalgamation  with  Valen- 
tinianism. Here,  for  the  first  time,  we  have  an  authentic  delinea- 
tion of  the  primitive  Ophites.  This  is  of  great  value."  We  need 
not  accept  all  that  Dr.  Salmond  here  says.  Some  of  his  construc- 
tions may  be  faulty ;  the  important  fact  is  that  he  states  unequivo- 
cally that  Justinus  was  contemporary  with  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul, 
and  that  Hippolytus  and  Irenaeus  assign  him  a  "position  prior  to  the 
system  of  Simon,"  himself  prior  to  the  preaching  of  Peter  (Acts 
viii.  9).  Here  then  Dr.  Salmond  ranges  himself  squarely  against 
Professor  L.  in  the  matter  under  debate.  What  Dr.  Salmond 


418  THE  MONIST. 

neglects  to  state  is  that  H.  writing  of  Justinus  declares  that  "all 
these  style  themselves  Gnostics  in  the  peculiar  sense  that  they  alone 
have  drunk  down  the  marvelous  Gnosis  of  the  Perfect  and  the 
Good."  Here  then  was  a  Gnostic  prior  (according  to  H.)  to  Simon 
Magus  (who  was  at  the  latest  contemporary  with  Sts.  Peter  and 
Paul),  hence  in  the  first  half  of  the  first  century;  moreover  he  was 
an  Ophite,  a  Gnostic,  full-fledged.  Moreover  he  is  placed  by  this 
same  H.  after  the  Sethians,  and  these  after  the  Peratae,  and  all 
these  after  the  Naassenes,  the  Ophites  proper,  the  first  who  sur- 
named  themselves  Gnostics.  These  latter  facts  are  no  less  impor- 
tant, indeed  far  more  important,  than  the  ones  that  Dr.  Salmond 
emphasizes,  which  by  themselves  are  enough  to  upset  Professor 
Love  joy's  contention  completely. 

If  then  I  am  at  all  capable  of  comprehending  chronological  com- 
binations, I  must  hold  unshaken  the  positions  of  Der  vorchristliche 
Jesus  with  regard  to  H.  It  should  be  added  that  the  chronological 
order  given  by  H.  is  fully  confirmed  by  analysis  of  the  various  doc- 
trines, that  of  the  Naasseni  showing  itself  to  be  obviously  the  most 
primitive.  No  one,  however,  would  insist  upon  the  particular  order 
of  the  middle  terms,  Peratae,  Sethians,  Justinians,  who  may  well 
have  been  nearly  contemporary. 

II.  With  regard  to  the  testimony  of  Epiphanius  it  seems  suffi- 
cient merely  to  refer  to  the  passages  quoted  in  full  in  Der  vorchrist- 
liche Jesus,  as  a  correction  of  the  representations  of  the  review.  The 
reader  may  judge  for  himself.     So  far  as  the  general  opinion  of 
reviews  would  seem  to  go,  there  is  but  one  escape  from  the  con- 
clusions of  the  text :  to  deny  outright  that  Epiphanius  knew  what  he 
was  talking  about.    The  desperation  of  this  last  resort  needs  no  com- 
ment. 

III.  With  regard  to  dyi'on?/u  and  draorao-ts  Professor  Lovejoy  is 
at  pains  to  show  that  the  former  is  used  classically  to  mean  "restore 
to  life." 

"Thou  say'st  an  undisputed  thing 
In  such  a  solemn  way." 

The  same  is  distinctly  recognized  in  Der  vorchristliche  Jesus. 
The  passages  referred  to  by  Professor  Lovejoy  (I.  24,  550-551), 
Agam.  1361,  Electra,  139)  were  not  mentioned,  nor  Eur.  H.  F.  719, 
more  apposite  though  uncited  by  Steph.  or  L.  and  S.,  because  the  dis- 
cussion was  not  about  avton?/u  but  about  dvdoracris.  It  was  not  ques- 
tioned that  "raise  up"  might  be  applied  to  the  dead,  indeed  such 
an  occasional  use  seems  almost  inevitable;  not  quite  so,  however, 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  419 

the  use  of  "raising  up"  as  the  technical  term  for  resurrection  from 
the  dead,  though  this  sense  was  also  admitted  as  "perhaps  known 
from  the  earliest  times."  In  fact  the  actuality  of  the  double  use 
was  well-nigh  essential  to  the  argument  of  the  text.  The  verses, 
Is.  xxvi.  14  and  Job.  xiv.  12,  mentioned  "as  pertinent  passages  our 
author  likewise  neglects  to  quote,"  are  caught  by  Professor  Love- 
joy  in  a  net  as  fine-meshed  as  a  Pasteur  filter.  "Dead,  they  shall 
not  live;  shades,  they  shall  not  rise"  (Is.  xxvi.  14)  :  "So  man  lieth 
down  and  riseth  not"  (Job  xiv.  12).  Such  a  use  of  the  Kal  future 
of  gum  in  the  commonest  sense  of  rise  up  was  surely  not  under 
consideration.  That  the  rising  is  from  the  couch  of  death,  is  given 
only  by  the  context.  The  passages  have  no  logical  pertinence.  If 
such  must  be  cited,  what  can  be  omitted? 

Professor  Love  joy  thinks  the  linguistic  argument  wholly  with- 
out valuable  results,  in  striking  contrast  with  a  pre-eminent  Biblical 
scholar  in  England,  who  declares  that  "though  exceptions  may  be 
taken  to  some  details  of  the  argument,  a  prima  facie  case  is  certainly 
made  out."  Perhaps  it  may  be  well  to  recall  the  logical  movement, 
which  can  hardly  be  detected  in  Professor  Lovejoy's  comments. 
The  reader  will  find  the  situation  summed  up  on  pp.  81-82:  The 
preachers  in  Acts  use  uniformly  terms  that  might  indeed  mean 
resurrection  (from  the  dead),  but  to  their  hearers  at  least  meant 
much  more  naturally  and  familiarly  quite  another  thing,  namely, 
establishment.  They  spoke  in  the  same  breath  of  "raising  up  David" 
and  "raising  up  Jesus."  It  would  be  strange  if  under  the  supposed 
conditions  they  indulged  in  an  unnecessary  pun.  They  also  cer- 
tainly spoke  of  this  "raising  up  of  Jesus"  (Acts  iii.  22,  26;  xiii.  33) 
in  the  sense  of  establishment;  strange  that  they  should  also  use  it 
then  originally  in  a  sense  entirely  different.  Also  the  text  criticism 
shows  that  the  phrase  "from  the  dead"  is  in  many  cases  loose  and 
uncertain  and  bears  strong  internal  marks  of  being  an  insertion. — 
But  this  linguistic  argument  does  not  stand  alone.  It  is  confirmed 
by  the  second  half  of  the  essay,  which  even  critics  who  reject  the 
first  half  find  very  significant.  The  argument  must  be  judged  as 
a  unit.  In  fact,  the  whole  argument  of  the  book  is  cumulative.  It 
must  be  answered,  if  at  all,  in  its  entirety,  not  merely  in  this  or  that 
detail. 

IV.  The  case  of  Apollos  has  proved  a  veritable  crux  to  the 
critics  of  Der  vorchristliche  Jesus.  Nearly  every  one  adventures 
a  solution  of  the  difficulty,  no  two  the  same  solution,  and  no  solu- 
tion at  all  acceptable.  Loisy,  in  reviewing  Der  vorchristliche  Jesus, 


42O  THE   MONIST. 

concedes  the  inadequacy  of  all  solutions  and  admits  (il  faut  ad- 
mettre)  that  the  primitive  preaching  must  have  taken  place  under 
forms  more  various  and  conditions  more  complicated  than  hitherto 
supposed.  This  concession  seems  to  me  to  go  very  far,  much  beyond 
what  Loisy  intended.  Clemen  takes  the  bull  by  the  horns,  frankly 
declaring  that  the  author  of  Acts  must  have  erred.  Soltau  admits 
that  the  reference  in  ra  irf.pl  rov  'Irjvov  must  be  to  the  cult  (Religions- 
anschauung)  and  not  to  the  historic  content  of  the  life  of  Jesus 
Into  this  list  of  warring  explanations  Professor  Lovejoy's  may  enter 
with  the  rest.  To  my  mind  it  goes  far  aside  into  irrelevant  matters, 
leaving  the  knot  of  the  difficulty  untouched.  It  is  at  best  what  a 
chemist  might  call  a  2%  solution. 

In  conclusion,  let  me  reiterate  that  the  argument  of  the  book 
cannot  be  judged  save  by  the  laws  of  cumulative  evidence.  It  is  the 
whole  body  of  facts  adduced  that  must  be  adjusted  into  some  self- 
consistent  scheme  of  interpretation.  We  must  restore  in  thought 
the  unity  and  coherence  that  undoubtedly  bound  them  together  orig- 
inally. Nor  let  any  one  imagine,  as  does  Professor  Lovejoy  appar- 
ently, that  practically  the  whole  body  of  evidence  thus  far  accumu- 
lated or  at  least  the  most  important  elements  have  been  presented 
in  Der  vorchristliche  Jesus.  That  work  was  in  fact  a  reconnoissance 
in  force.  The  mass  of  evidential  matter  already  gathered  is  three 
or  four  times  as  great  and  in  my  judgment  has  independently  even 
greater  demonstrative  power.  Of  course,  the  examination  is  not 
yet  complete ;  in  the  nature  of  the  case  it  cannot  be  completed,  but 
it  seems  to  have  gone  far  enough  even  now  to  indicate  clearly  that 
(to  quote  a  distinguished  British  scholar  and  philosopher)  this  new 
"conception  of  the  Origines  of  Christianity  is  in  the  main  en  right 
lines." 

WILLIAM  BENJAMIN  SMITH. 

TULANE  UNIVERSITY,  NEW  ORLEANS. 


THE   FUTURE  OF  ARTIFICIAL  LANGUAGES. 

I  am  somewhat  at  a  loss  to  understand  why  any  Monist  does 
not  readily  grasp  the  idea  of  an  auxiliary  international  language, 
for  I  read: 

"Monism  is  a  unitary  conception  of  the  world.  The  world 
must  be  conceived  as  one  inseparable  and  indivisible  entirety.  It 
admits  of  a  constantly  increasing  realization  and  of  a  future  per- 
fection. The  monistic  idea  of  a  unitary  conception  of  the  world 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  421 

has  been  constantly  corroborated  by  the  progress  of  science,"  etc. — 
Primer  of  Philosophy,  pp.  4-5. 

But  I  take  take  it  that  the  able  advocate  of  monism  has  no 
quarrel  with  the  adoption  of  some  "natural"  language,  preferably 
English,  as  an  international  medium,  but  rather  questions  the  ne- 
cessity or  feasibility  of  an  artificial  language  and  prefers  the  more 
comfortable  role  of  a  spectator  merely. 

Let  us  first  examine  such  claims  for  the  English  for  a  brief 
space  and  see  where  we  may  arrive,  prefacing  my  remarks  with  the 
assertion,  that,  personally,  I  would  look  upon  the  universal  adoption 
of  any  existing  language  as  almost  in  the  nature  of  a  calamity, 
while  admitting  the  progress  English  has  been  making. 

Not  touching  here  upon  its  irregularities  or  whether  the  Mo- 
hammedans can  ever  be  induced  or  compelled  to  accept  it,  the  illogi- 
cisms  of  our  really  great  mother  tongue  are  almost  intolerable  to 
any  one  aiming  at  clarity  of  thought.  For  example,  we  say  "the 
sun  is  rising"  or  "is  setting"  when  it  is  the  motion  of  our  own  planet 
that  has  deceived  our  senses.  We  say  "I  am  disgusted  with"  when 
we  really  mean  at,  or  from,  or  against,  and  a  very  recent  account 
in  a  local  paper  describes  the  distressing  accident  to  a  Scandinavian 
carpenter  working  in  the  lower  story  of  a  mill  under  construction. 
When  he  heard  the  cry  "Look  out!"  of  some  men  canting  a  log 
above,  the  unfortunate  man  literally  obeyed  by  thrusting  his  head 
out  of  a  window,  and  as  a  result  was  practically  decapitated.  But 
why  continue,  for  I  know  that  French  and  assume  that  every  other 
existing  tongue,  have  such,  or  greater  crudities,  yet  none  such  could 
be  tolerated  in  any  well-constructed  artificial  language,  for  example, 
like  "Ilo"  (the  latest  evolution  of  Esperanto,  as  simplified  and  re- 
formed), and  a  greater  familiarity  with  either  of  these  systems  must 
explain  any  preference  for  exemplifying  them  herein. 

Again,  how  many  words  we  often  have  to  use  for  expressing 
a  simple  idea  when  one  appropriate  word  should  suffice,  as  pen- 
valorar,  "to  be  worth  the  pains."  When  the  child  was  asked  "Have 
you  a  good  memory?"  and  he  truthfully  and  logically  answered 
"No,  but  I  have  a  bad  forgetency"  he  was  considered  both  amusing 
and  original,  yet  I  have  often  thought  that  if  we  could  have  a  com- 
petent and  authoritative  academy  (as  indeed  most  artificial  lan- 
guages have)  for  our  own  tongue,  it  might  possibly  be  able  to  do 
something  in  the  way  of  correcting  our  illogicisms,  modify  many  of 
our  irregularities  and  improve  our  phonology ;  but  I  fear  this  would 
be  expecting  altogether  too  much,  as  most  living  or  natural  Ian- 


422  THE  MONIST. 

guages  become  too  stereotyped  and  there  is  generally  much  preju- 
dice against  all  innovation. 

Such  an  academy  might  also  by  precedent  sanction  such  words 
as  "criticable,"  "makeable,"  "hopeably,"  "fixable,"  "elsewhen"  (else- 
where), "farness"  (nearness),  "outgo"  (income),  " beginningless " 
(endless)  and  many  other  apparently  strange  but  useful  forms,  but 
the  idea  perhaps  is  Utopian.  Yet  the  man  in  the  street  readily  as- 
similates such  neologisms  as  "plunderbund,"  "talkfest,"  "brain- 
storm" and  the  like,  for  he  is  above  all  things  a  practical  fellow  who 
never  mistakes  a  bathsponge  for  a  spongebath,  a  houseboat  for  a 
boathouse  or  a  billboard  for  a  boardbill! 

Now,  in  Ilo  and  Esperanto  we  have  all  such  ideas  as  the  fore- 
going, with  a  very  great  number  more,  neatly  and  accurately  ex- 
pressed, at  least  in  the  first  named  system,  for  it  has  borrowed  the 
conveniences  of  six  of  the  greatest  living  languages — German,  Eng- 
lish, French,  Italian,  Russian  and  Spanish,  (the  DEFIRS  which  its 
dictionary  appends  to  a  root),  while  ignoring  their  shortcomings. 

Thus  (and  this  I  consider  to  be  almost  the  crux  of  the  whole 
question,  the  very  marrow  in  our  bone  of  amicable  contention),  on 
the  basis  of  "the  maximum  of  internationality,"  the  Ilists  select 
a  "root"  that  is  common  to  the  greatest  numbers  of  millions,  when 
they  can,  by  "word-building"  with  one  or  two  of  the  well-defined 
affixes  or  "exponents,"  carry  it  to  its  fifth,  tenth  and  even  twentieth 
"power,"  each  expressing  a  different  shade  of  meaning  and  without 
materially  increasing  the  root's  length.  I  ask,  can  the  same  be  done 
with  any  word  in  English,  or  any  other  known  tongue? 

Let  us  take  the  international  V  futur-  which  can  also  be  found 
in  such  non-Romanic  tongues  as  German  and  Russian,  and  we  build 
futuro,  the  noun;  futura,  the  adjective;  and  future,  the  adverb  "fu- 
turely,"  which  last  form  the  English  lacks,  while  the  same  form  must 
serve  for  both  its  noun  and  adjective. 

Again,  touching  now  upon  the  feature  of  brevity  with  clarity, 
take  the  lengthy  name  t/nited  States  oi  (TVorth)  America,  and  Usono 
is  understood  by  Esperantists  and  Ilists  alike,  while  usonano  gives 
us  the  inhabitant  or  citizen  thereof  exactly,  instead  of  the  altogether 
too  generic  term  "American,"  who  may  really  be  a  native  of  Canada 
or  any  of  the  South  American  republics.  So  Ilo  is  a  contraction  of 
mternaciona  /inguo  and  happens  to  mean,  appropriately  enough,  an 
"instrument,"  with  many  derivatives  therefrom.  But  this  method  of 
monogramic  abbreviation  is  used  sparingly. 

Now,  without  going  into  the  defect  of  our  many  homonyms 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  423 

like  peace  and  piece,  pain  and  pane,  a  defect  also  common  to  other 
natural  languages  and  which  is  of  course  eliminated  from  an  arti- 
ficial one,  much  as  artificial  teeth  successfully  replace  bad  natural 
ones,  let  us  here  state  a  few  postulates  now  generally  accepted  by 
all  students  of  this  latest  branch  of  philology,  the  artificial — of  which 
Dr.  L.  Couturat  and  his  confrere,  Dr.  Lean,  are  undoubtedly  the 
greatest  living  authorities  and  historians,  and  to  whom,  with  de 
Beaufront,  "the  father  of  Esperanto  in  France,"  we  are  largely 
indebted  for  the  later  product,  Ilo.  Philologists  now  generally  con- 
cede: 

1.  That  all  artificial  languages  are  secondary  to,  and  are  never 
intended  to  supersede  the  mother  tongue. 

2.  That  the  primary  use  of  any  artificial  language  is  for  com- 
merce, science  and  travel  and  that  it  is  as  yet  premature  to 
attempt  any  literary  efforts  or  translations  (although  I  am 
aware  the  Esperantists  have  disregarded  this  rule). 

3.  That  such  artificial  language  should  be  founded  on  an  a 
posteriori  basis  and  not  an  a  priori  one   (i.  e.,  we  should 
draw   material   from   existing  languages   rather  than  coin 
previously  unheard-of  words,  like  those  composing  Zamen- 
hof's  correlative  table). 

4.  That  a  good  artificial  language,  constructed  with  the  "maxi- 
mum of  internationally,"  can  be  learned  with  advantage  by 
young  and  old,  as  laying  a  foundation  and  easy  entrance 
to  many  other  languages,  living  or  dead. 

5.  That  the  analytic  is  preferable  to  the  agglutinative  form. 
To  these  postulates  I  should  add  the  formula  found  by  that 

clear-thinking  Dane  and  great  philologist,  Prof.  Otto  Jespersen, 
who  has  since  laid  down  the  axiom  (the  original  is  easily  read)  :  "La 
max  bona  linguo  internationa  esas  ta,  qua  prizentas  la  max  granda 
facileso  por  la  max  multa  homi,"  and,  anticipating  the  inquiry,  will 
state  that  the  foregoing  is  in  neither  Latin  nor  Danish,  Italian  nor 
Spanish,  nor  yet  Esperanto. 

Religion  is  much  akin  and  only  comes  secondary  to  language, 
and  who  has  counted  the  number  of  systems  of  the  former  that 
have  been  created  and  flourished  ?  And  naturally  any  such  beta  ideo 
as  Esperanto,  like  a  religion,  attracts  many  idealists  and  possibly 
a  few  intolerant  or  mediumly-educated  people,  mostly  monoglots 
with  a  growing  knowledge  of  their  idol,  for  which  they  too  often 
make  the  most  extravagant  and  preposterous  claims. 

Yet  there  are  many  notable  exceptions,  like  the  veteran  Richard 


424  THE  MONIST. 

H.  Geoghegan  of  Fairbanks,  Alaska.  Only  a  few  of  his  intimate 
correspondents  know  of  the  profound  learning  and  very  great  lin- 
guistic attainments  of  this  modest  and  versatile  man,  with  whom 
it  seems  to  be  a  recreation  to  study  another  language  about  every 
three  months  and  who  has  done  an  immense  amount  of  correspon- 
dence in  Esperanto  since  1889,  with  Jon  Jonson  of  Iceland,  M. 
Bourdalue  of  New  Caledonia  and  with  many  others  as  widely  dis- 
tributed, all  tending  to  show  how  much  can  be  done  with  an  inter- 
national language  and  that  the  idea  is  becoming  a  practical  reality. 

I  cannot  agree  with  Dr.  Carus  that  "irregularities  originate 
according  to  our  needs" ;  rather  do  they  grow  according  to  our  ele- 
mental minds  or  our  slovenly  habit  of  thought.  Granted  that  "arti- 
ficial languages  would  soon  introduce  certain  irregularities,"  yet 
they  would  only  be  local  or  at  most  national  departures  from  the 
standard  of  purity  and  excellence  laid  down  by  their  Academy  or 
Fundamento  (which  latter  is  like  the  Koran  to  the  Arabic). 

True,  as  Dr.  Carus  intimates,  we  may  not  have  attained  the 
ultimate,  for  if  we  had,  we  would  at  once  commence  to  retrograde 
and  decay;  our  product  is  "not  perfect,  but  always  perfectible." 
But  the  Delegation  which  met  at  Paris  in  October,  1907,  for  the 
adoption  of  some  international  language,  laid  a  very  solid  foundation 
when,  of  the  many  systems  presented,  it  accepted  Dr.  Zamenhof's 
creation,  but  subject  to  the  modifications  proposed  by  de  Beaufront, 
Couturat,  Jespersen  and  others,  and  which  have  since  been  incorpo- 
rated and  appear  in  its  organ  Progreso. 

Possibly  some  great  Oriental  linguist,  as  yet  unborn  or  now 
in  the  infantile  dairy  business,  may  some  later  day  arise  in  his  might 
and  smite  us  on  the  ground  that  Ilo  is  altogether  too  European,  but 
are  we  meantime  to  stand  idle  in  the  event  of  such  a  remote  con- 
tingency? That  would  certainly  not  be  progress,  and  he  would 
surely  be  welcome  to  the  laborious  task  of  building  an  Asiatic  rival, 
with  Arabic-Hindustani-Chinese  roots. 

I  can  barely  touch  upon  the  inestimable  scientific  value  of  an 
international  language,  with  a  terminology  constructed  by  special- 
ists and  acceptable  to  all  scientists,  nor  what  an  instrument  it  will 
be  as  making  for  peace  and  righteousness.  As  I  look  across  my 
desk  I  see  several  pigeonholes  containing  letters  from  various  parts 
of  the  world,  written  clearly  and  concisely  in  an  apparently  strange 
idiom,  yet  one  that  seems  far  more  flexible  than  my  own  great 
tongue,  as  euphonious  as  Spanish  or  Italian,  phonetic,  legible  and 
brief ;  and  I  venture  to  assert  that  not  one  of  your  readers,  be  he  of 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  425 

English,  French,  Spanish  or  Italian  extraction,  will  fail  to  almost 
instantly  understand  the  following  short  specimen: 

"La  establiso  di  la  internaciona  linguo  tute  ne  esas  verko  di 
personala  inspireso,  fantazio  od  arbitrio,  sed  verko  di  cienco  e  di 
pacienteso.  Ni  ne  pretendas  a  neeroriveso  e  ne  konsideras  nia  verko 
quale  ideala.  Ol  esas  simple  verko  di  cienco,  di  koncienco  e  di  bon- 
volo.  Nia  verko  ne  esas  certe  perfekta ;  sed,  quo  forsan  plu  valoras, 
ol  esas  sempre  perfektigebla." 

In  conclusion  I  must  agree  with  Dr.  Carus  that  the  Esperan- 
tists  at  least  have  perhaps  been  far  too  hasty  and  over-anxious,  and 
I  must  plead  guilty  as  having  been  one  of  them.  Certainly  many 
of  them  have  shown  an  unreasoning  antagonism  to  even  the  most 
essential  changes  and  reforms.  When  the  Doctor  suggested  a  sys- 
tem of  pasigraphy  some  years  ago,  he  did  not  attempt  to  force  its 
acceptance,  assert  that  it  was  "untouchable"  or  make  any  extra- 
ordinary claims  for  it.  Nor  yet,  on  the  other  hand,  did  he  then 
raise  any  question  as  to  its  cerebral  receptivity  or  acceptance  through 
the  optic  instead  of  the  auditory  nerve !  But  why  did  he  not  suggest 
an  already  existing  pasigraphy  like  the  Chinese?  And  the  antici- 
pated answer  that  it  is  too  cumbersome  and  unsuitable  for  inter- 
national usage  will  also  apply,  with"  but  slightly  lesser  force,  to 
English  or  any  other  naturally  evolved  language. 

And  finally  I  ought  not  perhaps  to  forget  a  word  of  commen- 
dation for  Mr.  Strauss's  able  and  impartial  argument,  not  forgetting 
to  add,  however,  that  M.  Bollack  has  since  given  up  any  attempt  to 
propagate  his  own  system  and  thrown  his  forces  with  the  Ilists. 

ALEXANDER  H.  MACKINNON 

SEATTLE,  WASH. 

A  DEFENCE  OF  INTERNATIONAL  LANGUAGE. 

In  the  October  issue  of  your  magazine  you  propose  to  have  the 
problem  of  an  artificial  language  discussed,  and  you  proceed  to  ex- 
press yourself  adversely,  while  Mr.  C.  T.  Strauss  defends  it,  though, 
according  to  his  own  admission,  rather  from  the  point  of  view  of  a 
theoretical  observer  than  as  a  practical  adept  of  one  of  the  many 
international  language  systems.  Permit  me  to  answer  some  of  your 
criticisms,  and  to  supplement  the  remarks  of  Mr.  Strauss  by  some 
observations  gathered  from  two  years'  study  and  practical  use  of 
Esperanto,  both  in  its  primitive  and  in  its  new  and  simplified  form 
("International  Language  of  the  Delegation,"  "Ido"  or  "Ilo"). 


426  THE  MONIST. 

You  consider  more  or  less  complete  reforms  in  spelling  and  even 
in  pronunciation  as  much  easier  to  introduce  than  an  artificial  auxil- 
iary language.  You  are  willing  to  give  the  artificial  language 
makers  and  adepts  a  chance  to  show  what  they  can  accomplish,  but 
you  believe  that  the  life-time  of  one  generation  will  not  suffice  to 
realize  the  problem.  The  friends  of  the  artificial  language  idea  are 
of  the  opposite  opinion :  they  favor  an  artificial  language  because 
they  think  that  it  could  be  introduced  within  fifteen  or  twenty  years, 
while  fifty  years  would  hardly  be  enough  to  make  the  Anglo-Saxon 
public  of  the  old  and  new  worlds  accept  even  so  comparatively  slight 
shortcuts  in  their  orthography  as  ar,  det,  dum,  fisic. 

Your  criticism  seems  founded,  in  part,  on  the  high  office  you 
attribute  to  such  a  language.  Simplicity,  indeed,  cannot  be  a  leading 
feature  of  a  tongue  that  is  to  be  adapted  at  a  time  to  commercial  re- 
lations, scientific  communications,  and  literature  in  all  its  phases. 
This  just  objection  cannot  be  too  energetically  repeated  to  the  Es- 
peranto fanatics  who,  with  their  leader  Zamenhof  at  the  head,  insist 
upon  squeezing  works  like  "Iphigenie"  of  Goethe  into  the  Procrus- 
tean bed  of  their  looo-root  language  (for  the  other  4000 or  5000  roots 
in  Esperanto  translate  purely  technical  expressions). 

You  find  that  irregularities  would  result  from  an  introduction 
of  the  language  into  the  living  practice,  as  the  public  would  soon 
begin  to  contract  inconveniently  long  forms.  This  consideration 
can  only  stimulate  the  makers  of  artificial  languages  to  give  their 
output  a  high  degree  of  brevity  and  simplicity  from  the  outset.  The 
remodeling  to  which  the  Parisian  committee  subjected  Primitive  Es- 
peranto in  October  of  last  year  has  been  largely  necessitated  by  a 
series  of  a  priori  forms,  chosen  arbitrarily  by  the  inventor,  and  which 
have  proven  themselves  a  hindrance  in  the  practice.  At  the  same 
time,  the  principle  was  laid  down  that  no  artificial  language  can  claim 
an  absolute  intangibility  as  to  some  of  its  parts,  such  as  was  pro- 
claimed by  the  Esperantists  in  1905,  chiefly  at  the  behest  of  commer- 
cial propagandists.  A  competent  authority  must  be  entrusted  with  the 
right  to  introduce  further  improvements,  both  additions  and  simpli- 
fications, and  to  guide  the  blind  usage,  which  has  during  the  last 
few  years  engendered  in  Esperanto  a  large  number  of  anomalies. 
Your  remark  that  irregularities  in  a  language  spring  from  abbrevia- 
tions of  speech,  while  it  is  correct  to  a  certain  extent,  does  certainly 
not  apply  to  all  cases.  The  forms  spring,  sprang,  sprung,  for  in- 
stance, which  in  German  grammar  are  called  strong,  i.  e.,  regular 
verbs  forming  a  class  of  their  own,  are  in  English  grammar  ordi- 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  427 

narily  classified  as  irregular;  and  this  classification  can  be  justified 
when  bearing  in  mind  that  there  is  hardly  one  verb  of  this  type  to 
a  hundred  verbs  of  the  type  jump,  jumped,  jumped.  This  latter  type 
has  now  become  practically  the  norm  and  is  still  absorbing  gradually 
verbs  of  older  formation.  The  Academy  of  the  International  Lan- 
guage can  prevent  such  apparent  anomalies  by  foreseeing  how  un- 
wise it  would  be  to  use  variation  of  a  median  sound  in  a  verb  as  a 
means  of  distinguishing  tenses ;  for  the  unnecessary  restriction  in 
the  choice  of  roots  which  would  follow  from  the  adoption  of  this 
plan  would  soon  lead  in  practice  to  the  parallel  of  a  second  and  less 
cumbersome  form.  A  well-formed  artificial  language  will  degen- 
erate much  less  through  usage  than  a  national  language,  and  the 
cases  where  difficulties  occur  will  have  to  be  handled  on  their  merits 
by  a  competent  body. 

You  suggest  that  the  reformers  should  improve  one  of  the  exist- 
ing languages,  instead  of  making  a  new  one.  Here  you  have  by  in- 
dependent reflection  arrived  at  a  conclusion  which  the  Esperantists 
(at  least  those  that  are  honest  with  themselves  and  others)  have 
learned  through  practice.  A  priori  language  making  has  now  been 
discarded  to  such  an  extent  that  even  the  free  selection  made  by 
Dr.  Zamenhof  of  many  German  or  Slavonic  roots  (for  instance 
vosto  "tail,"  should  be  kaudo  which  occurs  as  a  root  or  as  a  word  in 
English,  French,  Italian  and  Spanish ;  tago  "day,"  should  be  dio  E.  I. 
S. ;  taugi  "to  fit,"  should  be  konvenar  E.  F.  I.  S. ;  varbi  "to  recruit," 
should  be  rekrutar  German,  E.  F.  I.  Russian,  S.)  has  been  absolutely 
rejected.  The  international  vocabulary  must  be  the  easiest  possible 
for  the  greatest  number  of  men,  hence  a  root  known  to  180  million 
people  is  to  be  preferred  systematically  to  one  known  by  100  million. 

The  next  requirement  is  that  these  roots  must  be  capable  of 
developing  the  needed  derivatives  according  to  a  uniform  system. 
Here  again  is  a  principle  which  is  found  in  germ  in  Primitive  Es- 
peranto, but  is  recognized  to  its  full  extent  only  in  Ido.  Several 
suffixes  have  been  added ;  the  more  or  less  confused  use  of  the  old 
ones  has  been  regulated ;  a  number  of  faulty  derivatives  or  of  awk- 
wardly lengthy  forms  have  been  replaced  by  new  roots  of  inter- 
national character.  In  your  former  article,  of  October  1907,  you 
very  justly  pointed  out  the  dangers  that  could  ensue  from  a  dilet- 
tantic  handling  of  the  word-building  material  contained  in  Espe- 
ranto. Now  precise  rules  for  derivation  have  been  laid  down  in  the 
grammars,  so  that  competent  persons  are  able  to  form  correct  and 
clear  derivatives  in  those  cases  where  the  amplified  vocabulary  does 


428  THE  MONIST. 

not  furnish  simple  roots.  Persons  of  a  less  logical  turn  of  mind  are 
referred  to  the  dictionaries,  manuals  or  usage  for  acquiring  their 
vocabulary.  No  language,  whether  artificial  or  natural,  can  do  more ; 
but  to  invite  writers  to  form  such  expressions  themselves,  according 
to  their  best  ability  and  without  fixed  principles,  such  as  Primitive 
Esperanto  has  done  heretofore,  is  to  bring  sure  complication  and 
ruin  on  the  language. 

Is  it  possible,  then,  with  these  great  guiding  principles  of  inter- 
nationality  and  logical  construction,  to  form  a  language  that  is  above 
attack  in  all  details?  Perhaps  not:  ordinary  common  sense,  rather 
than  science,  will,  after  all,  have  a  small  share  in  the  fixing  of  the 
alphabet  and  of  the  grammar.  Here  simplicity  must  govern,  and 
there  may  be  some  difference  of  opinion  as  to  what  is  absolutely 
required  and  what  not.  Still,  the  most  recent  language  projects  do 
not  differ  widely  on  these  points;  so  it  seems  the  rejection  of  un- 
necessary complications  cannot  be  carried  much  further.  There 
must  be  no  letters  that  are  not  in  the  Roman  alphabet;  there  must 
be  no  sounds  that  would  be  difficult  to  several  important  nations ; 
there  must  be  no  difficult  combinations  of  sounds ;  there  must  even 
be  euphony;  and  the  grammar  must  be  rather  on  the  English  type 
with  logical  word  order,  without  an  accusative  and  without  an  in- 
flected adjective,  than  on  the  German  type,  with  cumbersome  de- 
clensions and  syntax.  It  will  be  found  especially  difficult  to  choose 
the  pronouns  so  as  to  please  everybody. 

Still,  these  minor  points  cannot  be  regarded  as  serious  ob- 
stacles to  the  scientific,  rather  than  the  empiric  solution  of  the  problem. 
Jespersen  has  now  given  up  entirely  the  Platonic  attitude  that  you 
ascribe  to  him  about  the  subject,  and  has  treated  on  the  above  out- 
lined topics  in  articles  written  in  Ido  itself,  which  have  been  pub- 
lished during  several  months  in  our  monthly  Progreso.  He  has  also 
written  the  preface  for  the  Ido-national  dictionaries.  Bollack,  whose 
system  Mr.  Strauss  is  inclined  to  prefer,  has  laid  aside  his  own  work 
and  is  now  with  characteristic  enthusiasm  and  generosity  propa- 
gating Ido.  He  is,  indeed,  almost  the  only  one  of  the  inventors  who 
has  shown  this  latitude  of  spirit.  For  instance,  Molenaar  protests 
vehemently  against  Ido  and  continues  to  expound  the  advantages 
of  his  pan-romanic  "Universal,"  which  consists  exclusively  of  ready 
made  words  adopted  as  they  stand,  is  quite  irregular  in  its  vocabu- 
lary for  any  one  who  does  not  know  a  Romance  language  before- 
hand, and  is  dependent  in  all  its  details  upon  constant  borrowing 
from  living  languages.  Another  group  of  language  makers  is  now 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  429 

perfecting  the  "Idiom  Neutral"  with  the  aim  to  produce  a  language 
that  excels  less  for  European  internationality,  systematic  rules  for 
derivation  and  extreme  simplicity  of  grammar,  than  for  its  aspect 
of  a  living  Romance  tongue — as  if  a  philologically  revised  New- 
Latin  were  not  still  far  too  complicated  and  idiomatic  for  general 
use!  Aside  from  these  systems  on  European  and  on  Romance 
bases,  there  is  at  least  one  project  based  on  the  pure  Teutonic  and 
even  one  based  on  the  Greek  vocabulary. 

On  the  other  hand,  many  Esperantists,  with  their  leader  Zamen- 
hof  at  the  head,  claim  that  science  has  nothing  whatever  to  do  with 
the  problem,  which  according  to  them  is  a  purely  dynamic  one :  the 
language  that  is  most  thoroughly  advertised  and  consequently  at- 
tracts the  most  attention  among  the  general  public,  has  the  best 
chances  for  success.  This  is  true  to  quite  a  large  extent,  but  still 
not  so  exclusively  as  the  ordinary  run  of  commercial  propagandists 
of  Esperanto  believe.  It  would  rather  seem  that  an  enthusiastic 
propaganda  is  possible  only  where  the  conviction  as  to  the  intrinsic 
merits  of  the  propagated  language  is  genuine.  The  rapid  falling  off 
in  the  number  of  adherents  of  Primitive  Esperanto  during  the  last 
four  months,  especially  in  Germany,  is  ample  proof  of  this  fact.  The 
attempts  of  the  Esperantists  to  make  an  impression  by  their  noisy 
yearly  congresses  promise  little  for  the  future,  since  the  city  of  Dres- 
den became  one  of  the  centers  of  the  Ido  movement,  just  one  month 
after  seeing  the  enthusiastic  gathering  of  the  orthodox  Esperantists 
last  August. 

Considering  the  mental  capacity  of  its  adherents,  Ido  seems  now 
to  have  a  fair  lead  over  the  competing  systems.  It  is  the  aim  of  the 
movement  to  persuade  inventors  of  other  systems,  as  well  as  men 
of  science  who  are  interested,  to  take  a  seat  in  their  planned  academy 
and  thus  profit  by  their  labors  in  further  developing  the  language 
according  to  the  established  principles.  It  is  not  unlikely  therefore 
that  the  preponderance  of  Ido  will  soon  become  overwhelming  and 
that  the  followers  of  Zamenhof  will  have  to  make  peace  with  the  new 
system  as  best  they  can.  While  unity  among  the  advocates  of  the 
international  language  idea  seems  still  far  off,  the  prospects  are  not 
discouraging.  Granting  that  many  details  in  Ido,  especially  those 
that  relate  to  phraseology,  are  still  to  be  settled  more  definitely,  why 
should  it  not  be  possible  in  time  to  have  the  Ido  academy  replaced 
by  an  international  commission,  appointed  by  the  different  govern- 
ments ?  And  why  should  not  the  governments  then  recommend  and 
even  require  a  knowledge  of  the  international  language  for  certain 


43O  THE  MONIST. 

purposes  ?  The  impetus  thus  given  to  this  language  would  soon  be 
a  powerful  incentive  for  the  general  public  to  acquire  a  knowledge 
of  it.  I  cannot  possibly  see  why  an  international  idiom  thus  acquired 
should,  for  the  person  using  it,  differ  from  any  natural  foreign 
speech  that  he  has  learned,  except  in  this  that  the  artificial  language 
requires  as  many  months  as  the  other  requires  years  to  acquire.  I 
can,  from  my  own  experience,  testify  that  I  learned  to  use  Esperanto 
in  conversation  with  what  I  consider  a  high  degree  of  ease  and 
fluency  within  five  months,  more  so  in  fact  than  I  succeeded  with  the 
English  language  within  the  same  number  of  years,  although,  as  a 
born  German,  I  am  by  no  means  raw  in  languages,  in  fact  have  a 
fair  degree  of  fluency  in  the  oral  use  of  four  of  them  and  a  reading 
and  theoretical  knowledge  of  a  number  of  roots. 

The  international  language  is  certainly  much  more  artificial 
than  even  literary  German,  but  still  it  seems  to  me  to  be  less  artificial 
in  its  application  to  modern  topics  than  classical  Latin  would  be. 
It  is  and  will  be,  according  to  the  express  declaration  of  its  promul- 
gators,  "never  perfect,  but  always  perfectible."  It  should  not  be 
expected  to  compete  with  our  national  languages  in  wealth,  for  then 
it  could  no  longer  be  simple;  but  on  the  other  hand  it  aspires  to  a 
high  degree  of  preciseness.  As  Ido  has  over  Esperanto  the  great 
advantage  of  legibility  at  first  sight,  and  over  the  other  systems  that 
of  a  vigorous  propaganda,  it  takes  no  great  gift  of  prophecy  to  fore- 
tell that  it  will  spread  enormously  within  a  few  years.  It  will  be 
highly  interesting  to  observe  to  what  extent  the  practical  applica- 
tion of  this  language  in  many  provinces  will  refute  the  a  priori  ob- 
jections of  the  majority  of  the  scientists. 

O.  H.  MAYER. 

CHICAGO,  ILLINOIS. 


ESPERANTO,  ILO  AND  MALAY. 

Concerning  the  establishment  of  an  international  language,  we 
have  so  far  preserved  a  neutral  attitude,  because  we  bear  in  mind 
that  a  language  is  comparable  to  living  organisms,  and  it  would  be 
as  easy  to  construct  an  ideal  plant  as  to  produce  an  ideal  language. 
Languages  grow  just  as  plants  and  animals.  A  language  does  not 
consist  merely  of  words  that  are  printed  in  dictionaries,  but  exists 
in  the  living  brain-structure  of  the  people  who  speak  it.  I  do  not 
argue  against  the  theoretical  possibility  of  constructing  an  ideal 
plant  or  an  ideal  animal,  or  even  a  homunculus  after  the  fashion 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  431 

suggested  by  Goethe  in  the  second  part  of  Faust,  but  practically  I 
deem  such  undertakings  as  Utopian,  and  it  will  always  be  easier 
to  modify  existing  organisms  than  to  construct  new  ones.  All  arti- 
ficial languages  have  so  far  shared  the  same  fate  of  being  at  the  be- 
ginning enthusiastically  hailed  by  a  number  of  adherents,  but  when 
the  attempt  was  made  to  have  them  spoken,  the  difficulty  began. 
Those  who  speak  the  language  soon  disagree  and  without  any  effort 
of  outside  circles  the  two  or  several  parties  of  its  adherents  dis- 
integrate the  movement  and  very  soon  it  dies  a  natural  death.  Such 
was  the  case  of  Volapiik,  which  created  an  enormous  sensation  at 
the  time  when  it  first  made  its  appearance,  but  when  it  reached  the 
height  of  its  fame  a  strong  reform  party  proposed  improvements 
which  were  met  with  the  bitter  resistance  of  the  founder  and  his 
immediate  friends. 

The  same  fate  seems  to  repeat  itself  with  Esperanto.  We  can- 
not judge  whether  the  reformers  who  propose  a  language  called 
Ido,  or  the  original  Esperantists  are  to  be  favored,  but  will  only 
present  the  facts  of  both  sides.  In  a  recent  report  of  the  Fourth 
International  Congress  of  Esperantists,  in  the  middle  of  August, 
1908,  the  following  statement  by  Herr  von  Frenckell  was  read: 

"Die  Esperantisten  wissen,  dass  "sie  uneigenniitzig  ihre  Arbeit 
der  ganzen  Menschheit  zum  Wohle  stellen,  und  sie  ertragen  deshalb 
ruhig  die  immer  noch  recht  haufigen  Einwendungen  der  Zweifler  an 
ihrer  Sache.  So  konnte  der  Kongress  auch  einmiitig  sich  gegen  alle 
Veranderungen  in  der  Sprache  aussprechen  und  eine  Akademie  fur 
die  einheitliche  Weiterentwicklung  ihrer  Sprache  wahlen  zum 
grossen  Verdruss  einer  kleinen  Reformpartei,  die  rein  personliche 
Interessen  einiger  einzelner  verfechten  mochte.  Auch  aus  dieser 
Schwierigkeit  werden  die  Esperantisten  siegend  hervorgehen.  Die 
sorgfaltig  versteckten  sprachlichen  Fehler,  welche  die  Reform- 
sprache  enthalt,  sind  aufgedeckt  worden,  so  auch  vor  alien  Dingen 
die  scharf  verurteilungswiirdigen  Manipulationen  der  Urheber  der 
Verschlechterungen,  Reformen  genannt.  Somit  ist  es  anzunehmen, 
dass  auch  die  nachstjahrigen  Kongresse  die  Einheitlichkeit  von 
neuem  betonen  werden,  sofern  die  Reformer  es  nicht  vorziehen 
wollen  unverstanden  jahrlich  eine  neue  Sprache  zu  erlernen." 

In  this  connection  I  will  make  a  statement  that  may  be  sur- 
prising to  many.  While  traveling  through  Europe  last  year  I  met 
a  Dutch  gentleman  born  and  raised  in  Java.  He  is  a  lawyer  by 
profession  and  if  I  mistake  not  has  large  business  interests  in  the 
Dutch  colonies.  While  discussing  the  problem  of  an  international 


432  THE   MONIST. 

language,  he  offered  with  great  seriousness  the  proposition  that  in 
his  opinion  the  introduction  of  Malay  as  a  world-language  would  be 
the  best  and  most  practical  way  to  do  away  with  further  vain  at- 
tempts at  constructing  an  international  tongue.  He  said — and  was 
positive  about  the  correctness  of  his  statement, — that  Malay  is  the 
easiest  language  to  acquire,  that  no  language,  natural  or  artificial, 
would  be  simpler  in  its  construction  or  more  easy  in  pronunciation, 
that  it  could  be  learned  without  effort  of  any  kind,  and  in  addition 
was  spoken  by  many  millions  of  people  throughout  the  East  Indies. 
It  is  ready  made  and  has  passed  through  a  course  of  experience  by 
practical  use  throughout  the  Dutch  colonies,  and  Esperanto  in  its 
original  and  its  reformed  Ido  are  by  far  more  difficult  and  compli- 
cated. 

EDITOR. 

EXPERIENCE  DE  DOUBLE  TRADUCTION  EN  LANGUE 
INTERNATIONALE. 

Beaucoup  de  philosophies  croient  encore  que,  si  la  langue  inter- 
nationale  peut  bien  servir  aux  besoins  de  la  vie  courante  ou  meme 
des  sciences  exactes,  elle  est  incapable  de  rendre  avec  quelque  pre- 
cision les  pensees  philosophiques.  Pour  mettre  la  langue  internatio- 
nale  a  1'epreuve  dans  ce  domaine  particulierement  ardu,  j'ai  traduit 
trois  morceaux  philosophiques,  un  allemand,  un  anglais  et  un  fran- 
gais,  empruntes  a  trois  auteurs  illustres:  MM.  Gomperz,  W.  James 
et  Poincare;  et  pour  que  1'experience  fut  plus  probante,  j'ai  prie 
MM.  Gomperz  et  James  de  m'indiquer  eux-memes  dans  leurs  oeuvres 
le  morceau  qu'ils  jugeaient  le  plus  approprie  a  cette  epreuve.  De  ces 
morceaux,  le  plus  difficile,  sans  comparaison,  etait  rallemand,  tant 
par  la  langue  meme  (la  plus  malaisee  a  traduire  en  n'importe  quelle 
autre)  que  par  le  style  particulierement  elegant,  litteraire  et  raffine 
de  1'auteur  (Vie  et  action  de  Socrate,  en  Griechische  Denker,  tome 
2,  pages  36-41).  C'est  du  reste  ce  qu'ont  reconnu  tous  ceux  a  qui 
j'ai  distribue  ces  trois  traductions  pendant  le  Congres  de  Heidelberg 
(septembre  1908). 

Or  M.  le  prof.  Pfaundler,  de  Graz,  sans  m'avertir  ni  me  con- 
suiter,  a  entrepris  de  retraduire  en  allemand  le  morceau  de  M.  Gom- 
perz, dont  il  ne  connaissait  pas  1'original,  d'apres  ma  traduction 
en  Ido  (nom  conventionnel  et  provisoire  de  la  Langue  Internationale 
de  la  Delegation).  Je  n'ai  pas  voulu  voir  sa  traduction,  et  lui  ai 
conseille  de  1'envoyer  directement  a  M.  Gomperz  (son  collegue  de 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  433 

1' Academic  des  Sciences  de  Vienne).  M.  Gomperz  lui  a  repondu 
comme  suit: 

"Suivant  votre  desir,  je  me  suis  empresse  de  comparer  a  1'origi- 
nal  le  morceau  traduit  d'Ido  en  allemand,  que  vous  avez  eu  1'ama- 
bilite  de  m'envoyer;  et  je  Tai  trouve  etonnement  fidele  dans  1'en- 
semble.  Les  divergences  tres  rares  (une  demi-douzaine  en  5  pages 
de  mon  livre)  sont  imputables  (si  Ton  petit  parler  de  responsibility 
en  de  tels  details)  en  partie  a  M.  Couturat,  et  en  partie  a  I'ambiguite 
des  expressions  de  Toriginal.  Une  fois  vous  avez  employe  une  ex- 
pression inexacte,  par  une  distraction  manifeste ;  mais  en  aucun  cas 
un  reproche  quelconque  n'atteint  la  langue  Internationale.  ..."  (Suit 
1'enumeration  des  6  erreurs). 

"Je  reconnais  done  volontiers  que  cette  epreuve  a  extraordi- 
nairement  bien  reussi,  et  que  ,  pour  autant  qu'elle  est  probante,  elle 
est  favorable  a  un  haut  degre  a  votre  opinion  de  I'applicabilite  de  la 
langue  international. "  (Signe)  Th.  Gomperz. 

On  doit  remarquer  que  Inexperience  n'a  pas  ete  faite  dans  les 
circonstances  les  plus  favorables:  le  premier  traducteur  est  philo- 
sophe,  mais  non  Allemand ;  le  second  est  de  langue  allemande,  mais 
non  philosophe  (physicien).  Enfin  le  sens  de  certains  mots  tech- 
niques n'a  pas  encore  ete  suffisamment  fixe,  soit  par  les  dictionnaires 
de  la  L.  I.  soit  par  1'usage.  Et  1'original  abondait  en  expression  tres 
litteraires  et  pen  communes,  comme:  "anmasslicher  Querkopf  oder 
Besserwisser,"  "arbeitsscheuen  Tagdiebes,"  qui  sont  presque  des 
idiotismes  intraduisibles.  II  serait  interessant  de  faire  une  expe- 
rience analogue  avec  une  traduction  en  langue  nationale  (par  ex. 
avec  la  traduction  des  Penseurs  grecs  par  M.  Aug.  Reymond)  :  il 
est  probable  que  les  divergences  seraient  bien  plus  nombreuses  et 
plus  importantes.  Quoi  qu'il  en  soit,  avec  les  petites  fautes  qui  en 
attestent  la  sincerite,  1'experience  est  entierement  favorable  a  la 
langue  internationale.  Nous  remercions  M.  Gomperz  d'avoir  bien 
voulu  nous  permettre  de  publier  son  temoignage ;  et  nous  esperons 
qu'on  ne  contestera  plus  desormais  la  possibilite  d'exprimer  ou  de 
traduire  avec  exactitude,  dans  une  langue  internationale,  les  pensees 
les  plus  hautes  de  la  litterature  et  de  la  philosophic. 

L.  COUTURAT. 

P.  S.  Pour  eviter  toute  fausse  interpretation,  nous  tenons  a 
specifier  que  ce  succes  a  ete  obtenu  uniquement  par  la  Langue  inter- 
nationale de  la  Delegation,  elaboree  par  un  Comite  internationale  de 
savants  et  de  linguistes  tres  competants. 


434  THE  MONIST. 

A  MAGIC  CUBE  OF  SIX. 

Probably  it  can  be  said  with  truth  that  the  construction  of  magic 
squares  and  cubes  has  in  itself  no  immediate  utility.  Benjamin 
Franklin,  who  devised  some  squares  possessing  remarkable  prop- 
erties, expresses  himself  as  believing  that  he  might  have  spent  his 
time  to  better  advantage,  and  the  same  thought  has  been  uttered 
many  times  by  others.  As  an  intellectual  recreation,  however,  and 
as  a  means  of  quickening  one's  insight  into  the  properties  and  rela- 
tions of  numbers,  this  study  has  real  value. 

In  an  admirable  work  recently  published  on  the  subject  of 
Magic  Squares  and  Cubes,  the  author,  Mr.  W.  S.  Andrews,  after 
developing  very  clearly  the  method  of  constructing  magic  cubes  of 
odd  numbers  and  of  those  divisible  by  four,  passes  over  the  problem 
of  cubes  of  oddly-even  numbers  (6,  10,  14,  etc.)  as  not  yet  solved, 
though  he  remarks  that  he  does  not  believe  them  mathematically 
impossible.  It  was  on  his  suggestion  that  my  attention  was  turned 
to  the  question,  and  a  method  soon  presented  itself  of  attaining  at 
least  a  partial  solution. 

In  the  first  place  six  magic  squares  were  constructed,  exactly 
similar  in  plan  except  that  three  of  them  began  (at  the  upper  left-hand 
corner)  with  odd  numbers,  each  of  which  was  I  or  I  plus  a  multiple 
of  36,  and  the  other  three  with  even  numbers,  each  a  multiple  of  18. 
In  the  first  three  squares  the  numbers  were  arranged  in  ascending 
order,  in  the  other  three  descending.  The  initial  numbers  were  so 


chosen  that  their  sum  was  651,  or       (w3  +  l),    which  is  the  proper 

summation  for  each  dimension  of  the  projected  magic  cube.  In  the 
construction  of  these  original  squares,  by  the  way,  the  diagrams 
devised  by  Mr.  Andrews  and  presented  in  his  book  proved  a  great 
convenience  and  saved  much  time. 

Each  of  the  six  squares  so  made  is  "magic"  in  that  it  has  the 
same  sum  (651)  for  each  column,  horizontal  row  and  corner  diag- 
onal. As  the  initial  numbers  have  the  same  sum  the  similarity  of 
the  squares,  with  ascending  arrangement  in  one  half  and  descending 
in  the  other  half,  insures  the  same  totals  throughout  for  numbers 
occupying  corresponding  cells  in  the  several  squares;  e.  g.,  taking 
the  third  number  in  the  upper  row  of  each  square  and  adding  the 
six  together  we  reach  the  sum  651,  and  so  for  any  other  position  of 
the  thirty-six. 

In  constructing  our  cube  we  may  let  the  original  six  squares 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS. 


435 


Xi 


Xi 


N 


•M 


N 


CNJ 


\ 


N 


s 


N 


I 


X 


1 

^ 


1 

* 


r5 

X 

Xi 


N 


Fig.  i. 


43^ 


THE  MONIST. 


Nv  Q        -v 

«*  «V  «V  X 


X      <V        ~> 


Fig.  2. 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  437 

serve  as  the  horizontal  layers  or  strata.  We  have  seen  that  the 
vertical  columns  in  the  cube  must  by  construction  have  the  correct 
summation.  Furthermore,  as  the  successive  right-and-left  rows  in 
the  horizonal  squares  constitute  the  rows  of  the  vertical  squares 
facing  the  front  or  back  of  the  cube,  and  as  the  columns  in  the 
horizontal  squares  constitute  the  rows  of  the  vertical  squares  facing 
right  or  left,  it  is  easily  seen  that  each  of  these  twelve  vertical  squares 
has  the  correct  summation  for  all  its  columns  and  rows. 

Here  appears  the  first  imperfection  of  our  cube.  Neither  the 
diagonals  of  the  vertical  squares  nor  those  of  the  cube  itself  have 
the  desired  totals,  though  their  average  footing  is  correct.  It  is  true 
further  that  the  footings  of  the  two  cubic  diagonals  originating  at 
opposite  extremities  of  the  same  plane  diagonal  average  651,  though 
neither  alone  is  right. 

At  this  point,  however,  we  come  upon  an  interesting  fact. 
While  the  cubic  diagonals  vary,  the  two  half-diagonals  originating 
at  opposite  extremities  of  either  plane  diagonal  in  either  the  upper 
or  the  lower  face,  and  meeting  at  the  center  of  the  cube,  together 
have  the  sum  651.  These  correspond  in  the  cube  to  the  "bent 
diagonals"  of  Franklin's  "square  of  squares."  Of  course  a  moment's 
reflection  will  show  that  this  feature"  is  inevitable.  The  original 
squares  were  so  constructed  that  in  their  diagonals  the  numbers 
equidistant  from  the  middle  were  "complementary",  that  is,  taken 
together  they  equaled  217,  or  n3-\-  I,  n  representing  the  number  of 
cells  in  a  side  of  the  square.  In  taking  one  complementary  pair  from 
each  of  three  successive  squares  to  make  our  "bent  diagonal"  we 
must  of  necessity  have  3  X  217  =  651. 

As  in  the  Franklin  squares,  so  in  this  cube  do  the  "bent  diag- 
onals" parallel  to  those  already  described  have  the  same  totals.  A 
plane  square  may  be  thought  of  as  being  bent  around  a  cylinder  so 
as  to  bring  its  upper  edge  into  contact  with  the  lower,  and  when 
this  is  done  with  a  Franklin  square  it  will  be  seen  that  there  is 
one  of  these  "bent  diagonals"  for  each  row.  In  like  manner,  if  it 
were  possible  by  some  fourth-dimension  process  analogous  to  this 
to  set  our  cube  upon  itself,  we  should  see  that  there  were  six  (or 
in  general  n )  "bent  diagonals"  for  each  diagonal  in  each  of  the 
horizontal  faces,  or  24  in  all,  and  all  having  the  same  sum,  651. 

The  fact  that  each  diagonal  in  the  horizontal  squares  is  made 
up  of  three  pairs  of  numbers,  each  pair  having  the  sum  217,  suggests 
an  interesting  study.  Figure  3  represents  a  vertical  section  of  the 
cube  in  the  plane  of  a  diagonal  of  the  upper  face.  The  dotted  lines 


438 


THE  MONIST. 


connect  numbers,  one  pair  from  each  of  three  rows,  and  in  each 
case  the  sum  of  the  six  numbers  is  651.  The  series  represented  in 
the  figure — i  119  51  166  98  216,  i  112  8  209  105  216,  i  184  152 
65  33  216,  8  126  130  87  91  209,  15  144  119  98  73  202— have  each 
the  same  total,  651,  and  the  lines  connecting  the  numbers  outline 
some  graceful  and  symmetrical  figures.  Many  more  might  be  drawn, 
but  these  examples  will  illustrate  the  principle. 


*$ 


<; 


9  r 


/f 


/'  JV 


/  30 

\  *.•••- 


202 


.1  f 


-' 


2/6 


/so 


Fig.  3- 

Omitting  the  series  described  in  the  last  paragraph,  which  are 
rather  fanciful  than  natural  features  of  the  cube,  we  may  recapitu- 
late the  number  of  occurrences  of  the  characteristic  number  651 
thus: 

In  the  vertical  columns  ................   36  or    n2 

In  the  rows  from  front  to  back  ........   36  or    n2 

In  the  rows  from  right  to  left  ........   36  or    n2 

In  the  diagonals  of  the  original  squares  .  .    12  or  2w 
In  the  cubic  "bent  diagonals"  ..........   24  or  ^n 


144  or  $n2-\-6n 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  439 

The  column  of  n  values  at  the  right  represents  the  "general"  num- 
bers, found  in  cubes  of  10,  14,  etc.,  as  well  as  in  that  of  6. 

All  these  characteristics  are  present  no  matter  in  what  order 
the  original  squares  are  piled,  which  gives  us  720  permutations. 
Furthermore,  only  one  form  of  magic  square  was  employed,  and 
Mr.  Andrews  has  printed  diagrams  to  illustrate  at  least  128  forms, 
any  one  of  which  might  have  been  used  in  the  construction  of  our 
cube.  Still  further,  numerous  transpositions  within  the  squares 
are  possible — always  provided  the  vertical  totals  are  guarded  by 
making  the  same  transpositions  in  two  squares,  one  ascending  and 
the  other  descending.  From  this  it  is  easy  to  see  that  the  numbers 
1-2 16  may  be  arranged  in  a  very  great  number  of  different  ways 
to  produce  such  a  cube. 

So  much  for  the  general  arrangement.  If  we  so  pile  our  original 
squares  as  to  bring  together  the  three  which  begin  with  odd  numbers 
and  follow  them  with  the  others  (or  vice  versa)  we  find  some  new 
features  of  interest.  In  the  arrangement  already  discussed  none 
of  the  vertical  squares  has  the  correct  sum  for  any  form  of  diagonal. 
The  arrangement  now  suggested  shows  "bent  diagonals"  for  the 
vertical  squares  facing  right  and  left  as.  follows :  Each  of  the  outside 
squares — at  the  extreme  right  or  left — has  four  "bent  diagonals" 
facing  the  upper  and  four  facing  the  lower  edge.  These  have  their 
origin  in  the  first,  second,  fourth  and  fifth  rows  moving  upward  or 
downward,  i.  e.,  in  the  first  two  rows  of  each  group — those  yielded 
by  original  squares  starting  with  odd  and  those  with  even  numbers. 
Each  of  the  four  inside  vertical  squares  has  but  two  "bent  diag- 
onals" facing  its  upper  and  two  facing  its  lower  edge,  and  these 
start  in  the  first  and  fourth  rows — the  first  of  each  group  of  three. 
This  will  be  true  no  matter  in  what  order  the  original  squares  are 
piled,  provided  the  odd  ones  are  kept  together  and  the  evens  to- 
gether. This  will  add  32  (8  for  each  of  the  two  outer  and  4  for  each 
of  the  four  inner  squares)  to  the  144  appearances  of  the  sum  651 
tabulated  above,  making  176;  but  this  will  apply,  of  course,  only 
to  the  cube  in  which  the  odd  squares  are  successive  and  the  even 
squares  successive.  As  the  possible  permutations  of  three  objects  num- 
ber 6,  and  as  each  of  these  permutations  of  squares  beginning  with 
odd  numbers  can  be  combined  with  any  one  of  the  equal  number  of 
permutations  of  the  even  squares,  a  total  of  36  arrangements  is  pos- 
sible. 

While  the  straight  diagonals  of  these  squares  do  not  give  the 
required  footing  the  two  in  each  square  facing  right  or  left  average 


44O  THE  MONIST. 

that  sum:  thus  the  diagonals  of  the  left-hand  square  have  totals  of 
506  and  796,  of  the  second  square  708  and  594,  third  982  and  320, 
fourth  596  and  706,  fifth  798  and  504,  and  the  right-hand  square 
986  and  316,  each  pair  averaging  651.  I  have  not  yet  found  any 
arrangement  which  yields  the  desired  total  for  the  diagonals,  either 
straight  or  bent,  of  the  vertical  squares  facing  back  or  front ;  nor  do 
their  diagonals,  like  those  just  discussed,  average  651  for  any  single 
square,  though  that  is  the  exact  average  of  the  whole  twelve. 

By  precisely  similar  methods  we  can  construct  cubes  of  10,  14, 
1 8,  and  any  other  oddly-even  number,  and  find  them  possessed  of 
the  same  features.  I  have  written  out  the  squares  for  the  magic 
cube  of  10,  but  time  would  fail  to  carry  actual  construction  into 
higher  numbers.  Each  column  and  row  in  the  lo-cube  foots  up 
5005,  in  the  14-cube  19,215,  in  the  3O-cube  405,015,  and  in  a  cube 
of  42  no  less  than  1,555,869!  Life  is  too  short  for  the  construction 
and  testing  of  squares  and  cubes  involving  such  sums. 

That  it  is  possible  to  build  an  absolutely  "perfect"  cube  of  6  is 
difficult  to  affirm  and  dangerous  to  deny.  The  present  construction 
fails  in  that  the  ordinary  diagonals  of  the  vertical  squares  and  of 
the  cube  itself  are  unequal,  and  the  difficulty  is  made  to  appear  in- 
superable from  the  fact  that  while  the  proper  summation  is  651,  an 
odd  number,  all  the  refractory  diagonals  are  even  in  their  summa- 
tion. 

The  figures  which  accompany  this  article  were  drawn  for  it  by 
Mr.  Andrews,  who  has  taken  a  lively  interest  in  the  cube  and  its 
properties.  Especially  valuable  are  the  diagrams  in  Figure  2,  show- 
ing how  the  numbers  of  the  natural  series  1-216  are  arranged  in  the 
squares  which  constitute  the  cube.  This  is  a  device  of  Mr.  Andrews's 
own  invention,  and  certainly  is  ingenious  and  beautiful.  The  dia- 
grams here  given  for  squares  of  six  can  be  expanded  on  well-defined 
principles  to  apply  to  those  of  any  oddly-even  number,  and  several 
of  them  are  printed  in  the  book  already  mentioned. 

It  will  be  noticed  that  the  numbers  1-108  are  placed  at  the  left 
of  the  diagrams,  and  those  from  109  to  216  inclusive  at  the  right  in 
inverse  order.  Consequently  the  sum  of  those  opposite  each  other 
is  everywhere  217.  In  each  diagram  are  two  pairs  of  numbers  con- 
nected by  dotted  lines  and  marked  Q-  These  in  every  case  are  to 
be  interchanged.  Starting  then  at  the  heavy  dot  at  the  top  we  follow 
the  black  line  across  to  215,  down  to  212  (substituting  3  for  213) 
and  back  to  6;  then  across  on  the  dotted  line  to  210  and  along  the 
zigzag  black  line  to  8,  208,  207,  n  and  7  (interchanged  with  205)  ; 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  441 

down  the  dotted  line  to  204,  then  to  203,  15,  16,  14  (in  place  of  200), 
199 ;  then  across  the  diagram  and  upward,  observing  the  same  meth- 
ods, back  to  216.  This  gives  us  the  numbers  which  constitute  our 
square  No.  I,  written  from  left  to  right  in  successive  rows.  In  like 
manner  the  diagrams  in  column  II  give  us  square  No.  II,  and  so 
on  to  the  end.  It  is  worthy  of  notice  that  in  the  fourth  column  of 
diagrams  the  numbers  are  written  in  the  reverse  of  their  natural 
order.  This  is  because  it  was  necessary  in  writing  the  fourth  square 
to  begin  with  the  number  145  (which  naturally  would  be  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  diagram)  in  order  to  give  the  initial  numbers  the  desired 
sum  of  651. 

H.  M.  KlNGERY. 

WABASH  COLLEGE,  CRAWFORDSVILLE,  IND. 

A  NEW  METHOD  FOR  MAKING  MAGIC  SQUARES  OF 
AN  ODD  DEGREE. 

In  an  endeavor  to  discover  a  general  rule  whereby  all  forms 
of  magic  squares  might  be  constructed,  and  thereby  to  solve  the 
question  as  to  the  possible  number  of  squares  of  the  fifth  order,  a 
method  was  devised  whereby  squares  may  be  made,  for  whose  con- 
struction the  rules  at  present  known  to  the  writer  appear  to  be  in- 
adequate. 

A  general  rule,  however,  seems  as  yet  to  be  unattainable ;  nor 
does  the  solution  of  the  possible  number  of  squares  of  an  order 
higher  than  four  seem  to  be  yet  in  sight,  though,  because  of  the 
discovery,  so  to  speak,  of  hitherto  unknown  variants,  the  goal  must, 
at  least,  have  been  brought  nearer  to  realization. 

The  new  method  now  to  be  described  does  not  pretend  to  be 
other  than  a  partial  rule,  i.  e.,  a  rule  by  which  most,  but  possibly 
not  all  kinds  of  magic  squares  may  be  made.  It  is  based  on  De  La 
Hire's  method,  i.  e.,  on  the  implied  theory  that  a  normal  magic  square 
is  made  up  of  two  primary  squares,  the  one  superimposed  on  the 
other  and  the  numbers  in  similarly  placed  cells  added  together.  This 
theory  is  governed  by  the  fact  that  a  given  series  of  numbers  may 
be  produced  by  the  consecutive  addition  of  the  terms  of  two  or  more 
diverse  series  of  numbers.  For  example,  the  series  of  natural  num- 
bers from  one  to  sixteen  may  be  regarded  (a)  as  a  single  series, 
as  stated,  or  (b)  as  the  result  of  the  addition,  successively,  of  all 
the  terms  of  a  series  of  eight  terms  to  those  of  another  series  of 
two  terms.  For  example,  if  series  No.  i  is  composed  of  0-1-2-3-4-5-6 


442 


THE  MONIST. 


and  7  and  series  No.  2  is  composed  of  i  and  9,  all  the  numbers  from  i 
to  1 6  may  be  thus  produced.  Or  (c)  a  series  of  four  numbers,  added 
successively  to  all  the  terms  of  another  series  of  four  numbers,  will 
likewise  produce  the  same  result,  as  for  example  0-1-2  and  3,  and 
1-5-9  and  13- 

Without  undertaking  to  trace  out  the  steps  leading  up  to  the  rule 
to  be  described,  we  will  at  once  state  the  method  in  connection  with 
a  5X5  square.  First,  two  primary  squares  must  be  made,  which 
will  hereafter  be  respectively  referred  to  as  the  A  and  B  primary 
squares.  If  the  proposed  magic  square  is  to  be  regular,  that  is,  if 
its  complementary  couplets  are  to  be  arranged  geometrically  equi- 
distant from  the  center,  the  central  cell  of  each  square  must  naturally 
be  occupied  by  the  central  number  of  the  series  of  which  the  square 
is  composed.  The  two  series  in  this  case  may  be  1-2-3-4-5  and  0-5- 
10-15-20.  The  central  number  of  the  first  series  being  3  and  of  the 
second  series  10,  these  two  numbers  must  occupy  the  central  cells  of 
their  respective  squares. 


/o 

/o 

/o 

/o 

/o 

Fig.  i. 


Fig.  2. 


Fig.  3- 


In  each  of  these  squares,  each  of  the  terms  of  its  series  must  be 
represented  five  times,  or  as  many  times  as  the  series  has  terms. 
Having  placed  3  and  10  in  their  respective  central  cells,  four  other 
cells  in  each  square  must  be  similarly  filled.  To  locate  these  cells, 
any  geometrical  design  may  be  selected  which  is  "balanced  about  the 
central  cell.  Having  done  this  in  primary  square  A  the  reverse  of 
the  same  design  must  be  taken  for  primary  square  B,  two  examples 
being  shown  in  Figs,  i  and  2  and  Figs.  3  and  4. 

Having  selected  a  design,  the  next  step  will  be  to  fill  the  central 
row,  which  may  be  done  by  writing  in  any  of  the  four  empty  cells 
in  this  row,  any  of  the  four  remaining  terms  of  the  series.  The 
opposite  cell  to  the  one  so  filled,  must  then  be  filled  with  the  com- 
plementary number  of  the  one  last  entered.  Next,  in  either  of  the 
two  remaining  empty  cells,  write  either  of  the  remaining  two  terms 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS. 


443 


of  the  series,  and,  in  the  last  empty  cell  the  then  remaining  number, 
which  will  complete  the  central  row  as  shown  in  Fig.  5.  All  the 
other  rows  in  the  square  must  then  be  filled,  using  the  same  order 


/o 


/o 


/ 

/^V. 
(J/ 

jf 

X? 

^ 

/     N 
J  ^ 

J* 

2 

4 

/ 

4 

/ 

£! 

V  S 

f 

2 

J- 

2 

4 

/ 

/   \ 
J  } 
\  S 

2. 

4 

/ 

'<*) 

^ 

Fig.  4- 


Fig.  5- 


Fig.  6. 


of  numbers  as  in  this  basic  row,  and  the  square  will  be  completed  as 
shown  in  Fig.  6.  The  second  square  can  then  be  made  up  with  the 
numbers  of  its  series  in  exactly  the  same  way,  as  shown  in  Fig.  7. 


s 

/s 

O 

s~*\ 

(/,) 

20 

20 

s 

/s 

O 

/•    x 

to 

V  -S 

/S 

o 

s^~~\ 

/o] 

v  y 

20 

s 

(") 

20 

J- 

/S 

0 

O 

(-) 

20 

S 

/s 

6 

/S 

S 

/2 

24 

J 

23 

/O 

'7 

4 

// 

f    ^V 

(3  ) 

V    -S 

/S 

/ 

/j 

2* 

7 

CO 

/J 

22 

9 

/6 

j 

x-3) 

* 

/* 

2/ 

* 

20 

(*) 

Fig.  7. 


Fig.  8. 


Fig.  9- 


Adding  together  the  terms  of  Figs.  6  and  7,  will  give  the  regular 
5X5  magic  square  shown  in  Fig.  8,  which  can  not  be  made  by  any 
previously  published  rule  known  to  the  writer.  Another  example 


* 

J- 

/ 

2 

/""    ^v 

J 

2 

/"   "N 
(  J   ] 

v_^ 

4- 

S 

/ 

/ 

2 

0 

4- 

s 

s 

/ 

2 

GO 

V 

'^ 

4- 

S 

/ 

2 

/^N 

/O 
v  J 

s 

0 

2O 

/£ 

O 

zo 

/s 

/     'N 

/O 

*r 

20 

/s 

(-) 

s 

o 

/S 

(/*) 

s 

0 

20 

S 

0 

20 

/s 

/•     N, 
V° 

/4 

/o 

/ 

22 

/S 

2 

2J 

/3 

/J 

6 

2/ 

'7 

/J 

& 

J- 

20 

// 

7 

3 

2? 

S 

4- 

2S 

/6 

/2 

Fig.  10. 


Fig.  ii. 


Fig.  12. 


may  be  given  to  impress  the  method  on  the  student's  mind,  Fig.  9 
showing  the  plan,  Figs.  10  and  n  the  A  and  B  primary  squares,  and 
Fig.  12  the  resulting  magic  square.  Any  odd  square  can  be  readily 


444 


THE  MONIST. 


made  by  this  method,  37X7  being  shown.  Fig.  13  shows  the 
plan,  Figs.  14  and  15  being  the  primary  squares  and  16  the  complete 
example.  Returning  to  the  5X5  square,  it  will  be  seen  that  in 
filling  out  the  central  row  of  the  A  primary  square  Fig.  5,  for  the 
first  of  the  four  empty  cells,  there  is  a  choice  of  16,  and  next  a  choice 


7 

W 

/ 

z 

j 

s 

6 

6 

7 

(X 

/ 

2 

J 

S 

k) 

/ 

z 

J 

cT 

^ 

7 

S 

6 

7 

/*    N 

W 

/ 

2 

j 

/ 

2 

j 

J" 

^ 

7 

/^N 

(?  '/ 

3 

S 

6 

7 

® 

/ 

2 

2 

J 

s 

^ 

7 

s~~~\ 
& 

/ 

Fig.  13. 


Fig.  14. 


of  four.    Also  for  the  B  primary  square  there  are  the  same  choices. 
Hence  we  have 

(16X4)*  =  4096  choices. 

In  addition  to  this,  by  reversing  the  patterns  in  the  two  primary 
squares,  the  above  number  can  be  doubled. 


* 


7 


42 


ZS 


7 


7 


7 


2S 


2/ 


7 


2S 


3S   /4*    ZS    ? 


7 


Z/ 


42 

// 

29 

2 

4* 

26 

6 

20 

JS 

// 

^j 

23 

3 

4V 

4 

36 

/^ 

j/ 

/2 

4* 

2* 

JJ 

/3 

«^ 

.2J- 

/ 

37 

'7 

2Z 

* 

Jf 

/^ 

J4c 

'4- 

46 

/0 

*7 

27 

7 

39 

/J 

30 

44 

24- 

s- 

<«/ 

2/ 

32 

* 

Fig.  16. 

Fig.  IS- 


It  is  therefore  evident  that  with  any  chosen  geometrical  plan, 
8192  variants  of  regular  5X5  squares  can  be  produced,  and  as  at 
least  five  distinct  plans  can  be  made,  40,960  different  5X5  regular 
squares  can  thus  be  formed.  This  however  is  not  the  limit,  for  the 
writer  believes  it  to  be  a  law  that  all  ''figures  of  equilibrium"  will 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS. 


445 


produce  magic  squares  as  well  as  geometrically  balanced  diagrams 
or  plans. 

Referring  to  Fig.  17,  if  the  circles  represent  equal  weights  con- 
nected as  by  the  dotted  lines,  the  system  would  balance  at  the  center 
of  the  square.  This  therefore  is  a  "figure  of  equilibrium"  and  it 
may  be  used  as  a  basis  for  magic  squares,  as  follows:  Fill  the 
marked  cells  with  a  number,  as  for  example  I  as  in  Fig.  18;  then 


Fig.  17. 


Fig.  18. 


Fig.  19. 


with  the  other  numbers  of  the  series,  (excepting  only  the  central 
number)  make  three  other  similar  "figures  of  equilibrium"  as  shown 
separately  in  Figs.  19,  20  and  21,  and  collectively  in  Fig.  22.  The 
four  cells  remaining  empty  will  be  geometrically  balanced,  and  must 
be  filled  with  the  middle  terms  of  the  series  (in  this  instance  3)  thus 
completing  the  A  primary  square  as  shown  in  Fig.  23.  Fill  the  B 
primary  square  with  the  series  0-5-10-15-20  in  the  same  manner  as 


C 


Fig.  20. 


Fig.  21. 


/ 

V  J 

* 

* 

Z 

2 

V 

3- 

/ 

(^ 

J- 

2 

(   ) 

* 

/ 

^, 

s 

' 

2 

^ 

* 

/ 

2 

'    \ 
v   ) 

or 

Fig.  22. 

above  described  and  as  shown  in  Fig.  24.    The  combination  of  Figs. 
23  and  24  produces  the  regular  magic  square  given  in  Fig.  25. 

There  are  at  least  five  different  "figures  of  equilibrium"  that 
can  be  drawn  in  a  5X5  square,  and  these  can  be  readily  shown  to 
give  as  many  variants  as  the  geometrical  class,  which  as  before 
noted  yield  40,960  different  squares.  This  number  may  therefore 
now  be  doubled  raising  the  total  to  81,920  regular  5X5  magic 


446 


THE  MONIST. 


squares,  that  are  capable  of  being  produced  by  the  rules  thus  far 
considered. 

The  student  must  not  however  imagine  that  the  possibilities  of 
this  method  are  now  exhausted,  for  a  further  study  of  the  subject 


/ 

/•  —  x 

J 

X  / 

4 

s 

2 

z 

4 

s 

/ 

fjN 
V  s 

s 

z 

y 

4- 

/ 

2 

s 

/ 

2 

4- 

4 

/ 

2 

f   \ 

d 

V  J 

S 

S 

O 

/s 

/O 

2O 

/O 

20 

0 

/S 

J- 

20 

/S 

/O 

s 

O 

/S 

s 

2O 

0 

/O 

O 

so 

cT 

20 

/s 

6 

J 

/j 

/s 

22 

/z 

24 

s 

/6 

S 

2f 

'7 

/j 

3 

/ 

/# 

/o 

z/ 

2 

/^ 

4- 

// 

7 

23 

2.O 

Fig.  23. 


Fig.  24. 


Fig.  25. 


will  show  that  a  geometrical  pattern  or  design  may  often  be  used 
not  only  with  its  own  reverse  as  shown,  but  also  with  another  entirely 


o 

S 

/s 

20 

(/<? 

v..*/ 

s 

/s 

20 

/  —  ^ 
(/*, 

O 

/3 

20 

/-~~-\ 

("; 

O 

s 

2O 

.^"•N 

/O 

o 

s 

/s 

<*) 

o 

S 

/s 

20 

^~~~\ 
3 

\  / 

/ 

2 

4 

S 

J- 

(3 
v  y 

/ 

2 

4- 

^ 

S 

(•3 
\^s 

/ 

2 

2 

V 

S 

(0 

/ 

/ 

2 

& 

S 

'j) 

v_y 

2 

4 

/ 

(3^ 

s  —  s 

S 

3 

x.  ^ 

3 

2 

4 

/ 

4 

/ 

/"    \ 

(fj 

S 

Z 

S 

2 

^r 

/ 

/""^N 

S£> 

/ 

/"""N, 

S 

2 

^ 

Fig.  26. 


Fig.  27. 


Fig.  28. 


different  design,  thus  rendering  our  search  for  the  universal  rule  still 
more  difficult. 


A 

6 

'7 

24 

/£ 

/O 

/S 

2/ 

/2 

4- 

/J> 

2S 

/J 

/ 

7 

22 

/4 

of 

<f 

/6 

// 

2 

^ 

2O 

23 

Fig.  29. 


2 

& 

/6 

23 

/s 

S 

20 

22 

"t 

/ 

/& 

2/ 

/J 

cT 

7 

2S 

/2 

4^ 

6 

/s 

// 

J 

/O 

'7 

24- 

Fig.  30. 


For  example  the  pattern  shown  in  Fig.  26  may  be  combined  in 
turn  with  its  reverse  shown  in  Fig.  27  and  also  with  Fig.  28,  making 
the  two  regular  magic  squares  shown  in  Figs  29  and  30. 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS. 


447 


In  consideration  of  this  as  yet  unexplored  territory,  therefore, 
the  rules  herein  briefly  outlined  can  only  be  considered  as  partial, 
and  fall  short  of  the  "universal"  rule  for  which  the  writer  has  been 
seeking.  Their  comprehensiveness  however  is  evidenced  by  the 
fact  that  any  square  made  by  any  other  rule  heretofore  known  to  the 


I 

£ 

s 

3  ' 
\^  S 

/ 

s 

/ 

& 

i 

S 

z 

J- 

0 

/ 

4- 

/ 

* 

z 

S 

f  "\ 
GO 

J" 

GO 

/ 

4- 

2 

2 

S 

4« 

J" 

/ 

* 

cT 

/ 

S, 

X^N 

V  / 

/ 

^ 

/^"  "x 
J 

4 

S 

S 

^ 

J" 

/ 

z 

^ 

/ 

2, 

s  x 
J 
S-r^ 

4- 

» 

/ 

4 

2, 

S 

«f 

/•~\ 
^ 

/ 

4* 

2, 

Z 

s 

(•>) 

/ 

4t 

4- 

z 

S 

/"   ~N 
J 

\^s 

/ 

/ 

4 

2, 

S 

3 

Fig.  31. 


Fig.  32. 


Fig.  33- 


writer,  may  be  made  by  these  rules,  and  also  a  great  variety  of  other 
squares,  which  may  only  be  made  with  great  difficulty,  if  at  all,  by 
the  older  methods. 

To  show  the  application  of  these  rules  to  the  older  methods, 
a  few  squares  given  by  Mr.  Andrews  in  his  recent  book  on  Magic 
Squares  and  Cubes  may  be  analyzed.  - 


Fig.  34- 


Fig.  35- 


Figs.  31,  32  and  33  show  the  plans  of  5X5  squares  given  in 
Figs.  22,  23  and  41  in  the  above  mentioned  book. 

Their  comprehensiveness  is  still  further  emphasized  in  squares 
of  larger  size,  as  for  example  in  the  7X7  square  shown  in  Fig.  16, 
which  can  not  be  constructed  by  any  of  the  older  methods  known 


448 


THE  MONIST. 


to  the  writer.  Two  final  examples  are  shown  in  Figs.  34  and  35 
which  give  plans  of  two  9X9  squares  which  if  worked  out  will  be 
found  to  be  unique  and  beyond  the  power  of  any  other  rule  to  pro- 
duce. In  conclusion  an  original  and  curious  8X8  square  is  sub- 
mitted in  Fig.  39.  This  square  is  both  "regular"  (in  the  sense  of 
being  centrally  balanced)  and  "continuous"  or  "Nasik,"  inasmuch 
as  all  constructive  diagonals  give  the  correct  summation,  a  com- 
bination of  two  qualities  which  is  believed  to  be  new  in  squares  of 
8X8. 

The  theory  upon  which  the  writer  proceeded  in  the  construction 
of  this  square  was  to  consider  it  as  a  compound  square  composed 
of  four  4X4  squares,  the  latter  being  in  themselves  "continuous" 
but  not  "regular."  That  the  latter  quality  might  obtain  in  the  8X8 


7 


/o 


/6 


A3 


/S 


/O 


/z 


7 


/6 


/ 

/* 

7 

/2 

;•») 

/6 

j~ 

'O 

/s 

4 

3 

6 

/j 

z 

// 

3 

/o 

s 

/6 

J 

/2 

7 

/v 

/ 

f 

// 

2 

/J 

6 

& 

& 

s*^\ 
/<? 

/^^~\ 
s*) 

/j 

f 

// 

4 

/& 

6 

3 

/6 

J 

/O 

s 

/4 

/ 

/z 

7 

3 

6 

/s 

4 

// 

f 

/J 

z 

7 

/z 

/ 

s~~-\ 
/<* 

\  / 

J- 

/o 

J 

/6 

Fig.  36. 


Fig.  37- 


square,  each  quarter  of  the  4X4  square  is  made  the  exact  counter- 
part of  the  similar  quarter  in  the  diagonally  opposite  4X4  square, 
but  turned  on  its  axis  180  degrees. 

Having  in  this  manner  made  a  "regular"  and  continuous  8X8 
square  composed  of  four  4X4  squares,  each  containing  the  series 
I  to  1 6  inclusive,  another  8X8  square,  made  with  similar  properties, 
with  a  proper  number  series  and  added  to  the  first  square  term  to 
term  will  necessarily  yield  the  desired  result. 

Practically,  the  work  was  done  as  follows:  In  one  quarter  of 
an  8X8  square,  a  "continuous"  (but  not  "regular")  4X4  square  was 
inscribed,  and  in  the  diagonally  opposite  quarter  another  4X4  square 
was  written  in  the  manner  heretofore  described  and  now  illustrated 
in  Fig.  36.  A  simple  computation  will  show  that  in  the  unfilled 
parts  of  Fig.  36,  if  it  is  to  be  "continuous,"  the  contents  of  the  cells 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS. 


449 


C  and  D  must  be  29  and  A  and  B  must  equal  5.  Hence  A  and  B 
may  contain  respectively  i  and  4,  or  else  2  and  3.  Choosing  2  and  3 
for  A  and  B,  and  14  and  15  for  D  and  C,  they  were  located  as 
marked  by  circles  in  Fig.  37,  the  "regular"  or  centrally  balanced 
idea  being  thus  preserved. 

The  other  two  quarters  of  the  8X8  square  were  then  completed 
in  the  usual  way  of  making  nasik  4X4  squares,  thus  producing  the 
A  primary  square  shown  in  Fig.  37,  which,  in  accordance  with  our 
theory  must  be  both  "regular"  and  "continuous"  which  inspection 
confirms. 

As  only  the  numbers  in  the  series  I  to  16  inclusive  appear  in  this 
square,  it  is  evident  that  they  must  be  combined  term  by  term,  with 
another  square  made  with  the  series  0-16-32-48  in  order  that  the 
final  square  may  contain  the  series  I  to  64  inclusive.  This  is  accom- 


/6 


J2 


/<$ 


/6 


/s 


J2 


i,) 


(*) 


23 


ss 


/6 


60 


/J 


20 


22 


S2 


2-3 


SO 


36 


/2 


6/ 


26 


24- 


JJ 


so 


Fig.  38. 


Fig.  39. 


plished  in  Fig.  38,  which  shows  a  4X4  square  both  "regular"  and 
"continuous,"  composed  of  the  numbers  in  the  above  mentioned 
series. 

At  this  point,  two  courses  of  operation  seemed  to  be  open,  the 
first  being  to  expand  Fig.  38  into  an  8X8  square,  as  in  the  case  of  the 
A  primary  square,  Fig.  37,  and  the  second  being  to  consider  Fig. 
37  as  a  4^4  square,  built  up  of  sixteen  subsquares  of  2X2  regarded 
as  units. 

The  latter  course  was  chosen  as  the  easier  one,  and  each  indi- 
vidual term  in  Fig.  38  was  added  to  each  of  the  four  numbers  in  the 
corresponding  quadruple  cells  of  Fig.  37,  thus  giving  four  terms 
in  the  complete  square  as  shown  in  Fig.  39.  For  example  o  being 
the  term  in  the  upper  left-hand  cell  of  Fig.  38,  this  term  was  added  to 
1-14-15-4  in  the  first  quadruple  cell  of  Fig.  37,  leaving  these  numbers 


450 


Changed  in  their  value,  so  they  were  simply  transferred  to  the 
complete  magic  square  Fig.  39.  The  second  quadruple  cell  in  Fig. 
37  contains  the  numbers  7-12-9-6,  and  as  the  second  cell  in  Fig.  38 
contains  the  number  48,  this  number  was  added  to  each  of  the  last 
mentioned  four  terms,  converting  them  respectively  into  55-60-57 
and  54,  which  numbers  were  inscribed  into  the  corresponding  cells 
of  Fig.  39,  and  so  on  throughout. 

Attention  may  here  be  called  to  the  "figure  of  equilibrium" 
shown  in  Fig.  38  by  circles  and  its  quadruple  reappearance  in  Fig. 
39  which  is  a  complete  "regular"  and  "continuous"  8X8  magic 
square,  having  many  unique  siftnrnati6n&  ^^ 

The  writer  wishes  to  express  his  gratitude  to  his  friend,  and 
fellow  student,  Mr.  W.  S.  Andrews,  of  Schenectady,  New  York, 
for  having  executed  the  diagrams  illustrating  this  article  and  other 
incidental  assistapcq — fy  i&;  Exceedingly  doubtful  whether  this  con- 
tribution to  the  literature  of  magic  squares  would  ever  have  seen 
the  light  of  day  without  his  generous  aid. 

L.  S.  FRIERSON. 


lapj 


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HI 


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ing  magic  .sq 


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MAGIC  SQ 


es  of  Compound  Squares  may  be  calldd  over- 


uares. 


I          —  V    VJ  «J      V 

In  these  the  division  is  not  *nade  as  usual 


by  some  factor  of  the  root  into  four,  nine,  sixteen  or  more  suftsquares 
of  equal  area,  but  into  several  subsquares  or  panels  not  all  of  the  same 
size,  some  lying  contiguous,  while  others  overlap.  The  simplest 
specimens  have  two  minor  squares  of  equal  measure  apart  in  oppor 
site  corners,  and  in  the  other  corners  two  major  squares  which 
overlap  at  the  center,  having  as  common  territory  a  middle  square 
2X2,  3X3,  or  larger,  or  only  a  single  cell.  Such  division  can  be 
made  whether  the  root  of  .the  square  is  a  composite  or  a  prime 
number,  as  4-5-9;  4-6-10;  S'6'11  J  6-9-15 ;  8-12-20  etc.  The  natural 
series  I  to  n2  may  be  entered  in  such  manner  that  each  subsquare 
shall  be  magic  by  itself,  and  the  whole  square  also  magic  to  a  higher 
or  lower  degree.  For  example  the  9-square  admits  of  division  into 
two  minor  squares  4X4*  and  two  major  squares  5X5  which  over- 
lap in  the  center  having  one  cell,  in  common.  For  convenience,  the 
process  of  construction  may  begin  with  an  orderly  arrangement  of 
materials. 

*  The  diagrams  have  been  .drawn  by  Mr.  W.  S.  Andrews  of  Schenectady, 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS. 


451 


The  series  I  to  81  is  given  in  Fig.  I,  which  may  be  termed  a 
primitive  square.  The  nine  natural  grades  of  nine  terms  each,  ap- 
pear in  direct  order  on  horizontal  lines.  It  is  evident  that  any  natural 
series  I  to  n2  when  thus  arranged  will  exhibit  n  distinct  grades  of  n 
terms  each,  the  common  difference  being  unity  in  the  horizontal 
direction,  n  vertically,  n+i  on  direct  diagonals,  and  n — I  on  trans- 
verse diagonals.  This  primitive  square  is  therefore  something  more 
than  a  mere  assemblage  of  numbers,  for,  on  dividing  it  as  proposed, 
there  is  seen  in  each  section  a  set  of  terms  which  may  be  handled 
as  regular  grades,  and  with  a  little  manipulation  may  become  magical. 
The  whole  square  with  all  its  component  parts  may  be  tilted  over  to 
right  or  left  45°,  so  that  all  grades  will  be  turned  into  a  diagonal 
direction,  and  all  diagonals  will  become  rectangular  rows,  and  presto, 


/.o 


2f 


46 


7* 


20 


/Z 


Z/ 


30 


S/ 


66 


/3 


4-0 


23 


6s 


7*  ?s  76  77  7<f  70 


24- 


60 


/6 


34. 


6/ 


7 


'7 


62 


7/ 


/S 


66 


63 


7* 


Fig.  I. 

the  magic  square  appears  in  short  order.  The  principle  has  been 
admirably  presented  and  employed  in  various  connections  by  Mr. 
W.  S.  Andrews  in  his  recent  treatise  on  Magic  Squares  and  Cubes, 
and  the  process  is  beautifully  illustrated  on  pp.  17  and  113  of  that 
work.  It  is  a  well-known  fact  that  the  primitive  square  gives  in  its 
middle  rows  an  average  and  equal  summation ;  it  is  also  a  fact  not  so 
generally  recognized,  or  so  distinctly  stated,'  that  all  the  diagonal 
rows  are  already  correct  for  a  magic  square.  Thus  in  this  9-square 
the  direct  diagonal,  I,  n,  21,  31  etc.  to  81  is  a  mathematical  series, 
4^  normal  couplets  =  369.  Also  the  parallel  partial  diagonal  2,  12, 
22,  32,  etc.  to  72,  eight  terms,  and  73  to  complete  it,  =  369.  So  of 
all  the  broken  diagonals  of  that  system ;  so  also  of  all  the  nine  trans- 
verse diagonals;  each  contains  4^2  normal  couplets  or  the  value 


452  THE  MONIST. 

thereof  =  369.  The  greater  includes  the  less,  and  these  features 
are  prominent  in  the  subsquares.  By  the  expeditious  plan  indicated 
above  we  might  obtain  in  each  section  some  squares  of  fair  magical 
quality,  quite  regular  and  symmetrical,  but  when  paired  they  would 
not  be  equivalent,  and  it  is  obvious  that  the  coupled  squares  must 
have  an  equal  summation  of  rows,  whatever  may  be  their  difference 
of  complexion  and  constitution.  The  major  squares  are  like  those 
once  famous  Siamese  twins,  Eng  and  Chang,  united  by  a  vinculum, 
an  organic  part  of  each,  through  which  vital  currents  must  flow ;  the 
central  cell  containing  the  middle  term  41,  must  be  their  bond  of 
union,  while  it  separates  the  other  pair.  The  materials  being  par- 
celed out  and  ready  to  hand,  antecedents  above  and  consequents 
below,  an  equitable  allotment  may  be  made  of  normal  couplets  to 
each  square.  Thus  from  N.  W.  section  two  grades  may  be  taken 
as  they  stand  horizontally,  or  vertically,  or  diagonally  or  any  way 
symmetrically.  The  consequents  belonging  to  those,  found  in  S.  E. 
section  will  furnish  two  grades  more  and  complete  the  square.  The 
other  eight  terms  from  above  and  their  consequents  from  below  will 
empty  those  compartments  and  supply  the  twin  4-square  with  an 
exact  equivalent.  Some  elaborate  and  elegant  specimens,  magic 
to  a  high  degree  may  be  obtained  from  the  following  distribution: 

ist  grade  I,  3,  n,  13  (all  odd),  2,  4,  10,  12  (all  even)  ; 

2d  grade  19,  21,  29,  31  and  20,  22,  28,  30. 

Then  from  N.  E.  section  two  grades  may  be  taken  for  one  of 
the  major  squares ;  thus  5,  6,  7,  8,  9  and  23,  24,  25,  26,  27  leaving 
for  the  twin  square,  14,  15,  16,  17,  18  and  32,  33,  34,  35,  36.  To  each 
we  join  the  respective  consequents  of  all  those  terms  forming  4th  and 
5th  grades,  and  they  have  an  equal  assignment.  But  each  requires 
a  middle  grade,  and  the  only  material  remaining  is  that  whole  middle 
grade  of  the  9-square.  Evidently  the  middle  portion,  39,  40,  41, 42, 43 
must  serve  for  both,  and  the  37,  38,  and  their  partners  44,  45  must 
be  left  out  as  undesirable  citizens.  Each  having  received  its  quota 
may  organize  by  any  plan  that  will  produce  a  magic  and  bring  the 
middle  grade  near  the  corner,  and  especially  the  number  41  into  a 
corner  cell. 

In  the  5-square  Fig.  2  we  may  begin  anywhere,  say  the  cell 
below  the  center  and  write  the  ist  grade,  14,  15,  16,  17,  18,  by  a 
uniform  oblique  step  moving  to  the  left  and  downward.  From  the 
end  of  this  grade  a  new  departure  is  found  by  counting  two  cells 
down  or  three  cells  up  if  more  convenient,  and  the  2d  grade,  32, 
33>  34>  35»  36  goes  in  by  the  same  step  of  the  ist  grade.  All  the 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS. 


453 


grades  follow  the  same  rule.  The  leading  terms  14,  32,  39,  46,  64 
may  be  placed  in  advance,  as  they  go  by  a  uniform  step  of  their 
own,  analogous  to  that  of  the  grades ;  then  there  will  be  no  need  of 
any  "break  move,"  but  each  grade  can  form  on  its  own  leader 
wherever  that  may  stand,  making  its  proper  circuit  and  returning 
to  its  starting  point.  The  steps  are  so  chosen  and  adjusted  that 
every  number  finds  its  appointed  cell  unoccupied,  each  series  often 
crossing  the  path  of  others  but  always  avoiding  collision.  The  re- 
sulting square  is  magic  to  a  high  degree.  It  has  its  twelve  normal 
couplets  arranged  geometrically  radiating  around  that  unmatched 
middle  term  41  in  the  central  cell.  In  all  rectangular  rows  and  in 
all  diagonals,  entire  and  broken,  the  five  numbers  give  by  addition  the 
constant  S  =  205.  There  are  twenty  such  rows.  Other  remarkable 
traits  might  be  mentioned. 


SO 


'7 


66 


JJ 


6s 


'* 


/6 


6s 


40 


/S 


4f 


JA 


23 


76 


AS 


7° 


ss 


77 


7* 


sz 


/z 


S3 


Fig.  2. 


Fig.  3- 


For  the  twin  square  Fig.  3,  as  the  repetition  of  some  terms  and 
omission  of  others  may  be  thought  a  blemish,  we  will  try  that  dis- 
carded middle  grade,  37,  38,  41,  44,  45.  The  other  grades  must  be 
reconstructed  by  borrowing  a  few  numbers  from  N.  W.  section  so 
as  to  conform  to  this  in  their  sequence  of  differences,  as  Mr.  Frierson 
has  ably  shown  (Andrews,  p.  152).  Thus  the  new  series  in  line 
5-6-9-12-13,  23-24-27-30-31,  37-38- (41) -44-45  etc.  has  the  differ- 
ences 1331  repeated  throughout,  and  the  larger  grades  will 
necessarily  have  the  same,  and  the  differences  between  the  grades 
will  be  reciprocal,  and  thus  the  series  of  differences  will  be  balanced 
geometrically  on  each  side  of  the  center,  as  well  as  the  normal 
couplets.  Therefore  we  proceed  with  confidence  to  construct  the 
5-square  Fig.  3  by  the  same  rule  as  used  in  Fig.  2,  only  applied  in 
contrary  directions,  counting  two  cells  to  right  and  one  upward. 
When  completed  it  will  be  the  reciprocal  of  Fig.  2  in  pattern,  equiv- 
alent in  summation,  having  only  the  term  41  in  common  and  pos- 
sessing similar  magical  properties.  It  remains  to  be  seen  how  those 


454 


THE  MONIST. 


disorganized  grades  in  the  N.  W.  Section  can  be  made  available 
for  the  two  minor  squares.  Fortunately,  the  fragments  allow  this 
distribution : 

Regular  grades    i,     2,     3,     4, — irregular  grades      7,     8,  10,  n 

19,   20,    21,    22  25,   26,   28,   29 

These  we  proceed  to  enter  in  the  twin  squares  Figs.  4  and  5. 
The  familiar  two-step  is  the  only  one  available,  and  the  last  half 
of  each  grade  must  be  reversed,  or  another  appropriate  permutation 
employed  in  order  to  secure  the  best  results.  Also  the  4th  grade 
comes  in  before  the  3d.  But  these  being  consequents,  may  go  in 
naturally,  each  diagonally  opposite  its  antecedent.  The  squares  thus 
made  are  magical  to  a  very  high  degree.  All  rectangular  and  all 
diagonal  rows  to  the  number  of  sixteen  have  the  constant  S  =  164. 
Each  quadrate  group  of  four  numbers  =  164.  There  are  nine  of 
these  overlapping  2-squares.  The  corner  numbers  or  two  numbers 
taken  on  one  side  together  with  the  two  directly  opposite  =  164.  The 


3 

2<9 

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S6 

s 

z* 

// 

H 

7* 

S3 

\^  ^r 

7* 

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Z6 

/) 

2Z 

f  "\ 
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6& 

7* 

6z 

2 

2/ 

4. 

'/4 

\^  J 

f/ 

(60 
\^  J 

to 

6/ 

J 

zo 

Fig.  4. 


Fig.  5- 


corner  numbers  of  any  3-squares  =  164.  There  are  four  of  these 
overlapping  combinations  arising  from  the  peculiar  distribution  of  the 
eight  normal  couplets. 

These  squares  may  pass  through  many  changes  by  shifting  whole 
rows  from  side  to  side,  that  is  to  say  that  we  may  choose  any  cell 
as  starting  point.  In  fact  both  of  them  have  been  thus  changed 
when  taking  a  position  in  the  main  square.  The  major  squares 
shown  in  Figs.  2  and  3  pass  through  similar  changes  in  order  to 
bring  the  number  41  to  a  corner.  With  these  four  subsquares  all 
in  place  we  have  the  9-square,  shown  in  Fig.  6,  containing  the  whole 
series  I  to  81.  The  twenty  continuous  rows  have  the  constant 
S  =  164  -f-  205  =  369.  Besides  the  4-squares  in  N.  W.  and  S.  E. 
there  is  a  4-square  in  each  of  the  other  corners  overlapping  the 
5-square,  not  wholly  magic  but  having  eight  normal  couplets  placed 
geometrically  opposite,  so  that  taken  by  fours  symmetrically  they 
=  164.  The  four  corner  numbers  31  +  36  +  22  +  75  =  164. 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS. 


455 


This  combination  may  be  taken  as  typical  of  the  odd  squares 
rhich  have  a  pair  of  subsquares  overlapping  by  a  single  cell.  What- 
rer  peculiarities  each  individual  may  exhibit  they  must  all  conform 
the  requirement  of  equal  summation  in  coupled  subsquares ;  and 
>r  the  distribution  of  values  the  plan  of  taking  as  a, unit  of  measure 
normal  couplet  of  the  general,  series, is  so  efficacious  and  of  so 
liversal  application  that  no  other  plan  need  be  suggested>Ml.T|hese; 
principles  apply  also  to  the  even  squares  which  have  no  central  cell 
but  a  block  of  four  cells  at  the  intersection  of  the  axes.  For  ex- 
ample, the  i4-square,  Fig.  7,  has  two  minor  subsquares  6X6,  and 
two  major  squares  8X8,  with  ^middle  square  fliXap  TmQ  indicates 
a  convenient  subdivision  of  tha  'Whdfe  ;&r^l'4ntft  1 2-^sm&jr'e$J  Thus  in 
N.  W.  Section  we  have  sixteen  blocks ;  : 


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26 


63 


7 


7* 


7* 


ztr 


23 


3-6 


JO 


7 


4-9 


JJ 


77 


24- 


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60 


Z/ 


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36 


66 


7 


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si-4-square,  and 


S-t 


Fig.  6. 


the  compartments  may  be  numbered  from  I  to  16  following  some 
approved  pattern  of  the  magic  square,  taking  such  point  of  departure 
as  will  bring  16  to  the  central  block.  This  is  called  I  for  the  S.  E. 
section  in  which  2,  3  etc.  to  16  are  located  as  before.  Now  as  these, 
single  numbers  give  a  constant  sum  in  every  line,  so  will  any  mathe- 
matical series  that  may  replace  them  in  the  same  order  as  ist,  2d,  3d 
terms  etc.  Thus  in  I  the  numbers  I,  2,  3,  4,  in  2;  5,  6,  7,  8,  and  so 
on  by  current  groups,  will  give  correct  results.  In  this  case  the 
numbers  I  to  18,  and  19  to  36  with  their  consequents  should  be 
reserved  for  the  twin  minor  squares.  So  that  here  in  the  N.  W. 
section  we  begin  with  37,  38,  in  I  instead  of  I,  2,  leaving  the  3,  4 
spaces  to  be  occupied  by  the  consequents  159,  160.  Then  in  2  we 
continue  39,  40  (instead  of  5,  6)  and  so  on  following  the  path  of  the 


456 


THE   MONIST. 


primary  series,  putting  two  terms  into  each  2-square,  and  arriving 
with  67,  68  at  the  middle  square.  Then  the  coupled  terms  go  on 
69,  70  =  71,  72  etc.  by  some  magic  step  across  the  S.  E.  section 
reaching  the  new  No.  16  with  the  terms  97,  98.  This  exhausts  the 
antecedents.  Each  2-square  is  half  full.  We  may  follow  a  reversed 
track  putting  in  the  consequents  99,  100  etc.  returning  to  the  start- 
ing point  with  159,  160.  It  is  evident  that  all  the  2-squares  are 
equivalent,  and  that  each  double  row  of  four  of  them  =  1576,  but 
it  does  not  follow  that  each  single  row  will  =  788.  In  fact  they 


/4S 


*JL 

7° 


SZ 


ss 


24 


J3 


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6* 


66 


J,9 


40 


/JJ 


ss-6 


7* 


23 


A3  2 


/Sf 


2Z 


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/6s  16 


/?* 


a/ 


7+ 


f6 


so 


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29 


'4' 


60 


46 


7 


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44 


62. 


6f 


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39 


7* 


74 


/J13 


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Sf 


6? 


/OS 


7 


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,07 


sz/ 


8S 


fc 


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76 


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46 


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69 


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Fig.  7- 


do  so,  but  that  is  due  to  the  position  of  each  block  as  direct  or  re- 
versed or  inverted  according  to  a  chart  or  theorem  employed  in 
work  of  this  kind.  The  sixteen  rectangular  rows,  the  two  entire 
diagonals  and  those  which  pass  through  the  centers  of  the  2X2 
blocks  sum  up  correctly.  There  are  also  many  bent  diagonals  and 
zigzag  rows  of  eight  numbers  that  =  788.  Each  quarter  of  the 
square  =  1576  and  any  overlapping  4-square  made  by  four  of  the 
blocks  gives  the  same  total.  The  minor  squares  are  inlaid.  Thus  in 
the  N.  E.  square  if  the  twenty  numbers  around  the  central  block  be 
dropped  out  and  the  three  at  each  angle  be  brought  together  around 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS. 


457 


the  block  we  shall  have  a  4-square  magical  to  a  high  degree.     In 
fact  this  is  only  reversing  the  process  of  construction. 

Fig.  8  is  a  15-square  which  develops  the  overlapping  principle 
to  an  unusual  extent.  There  are  two  minor  squares  6X6,  and  two 
major  squares  9X9  with  a  middle  square  3X3  in  common.  The 
whole  area  might  have  been  cut  up  into  3-squares.  The  present 
division  was  an  experiment  that  turned  out  remarkably  well.  The 
general  series,  I  to  225  is  thus  apportioned.  For  N.  W.  6-square 
the  numbers  I  to  18  and  208  to  225 ;  for  S.  E.  19  to  36  and  190  to 


zzs 

/o 


Z 

— 

77 


sz 


7* 


76 


2/6     J 


/J 


4-f 


7' 


/6s 


223 


7' 


6* 


66 


6* 


/6o 


6* 


2/Z 


60 


7° 


/f6 


2 


4-3 


7 


Z// 


/6 


ss 


6s- 


7* 


7* 


/SA 


fZ 


'7* 


"7 


/OS 


#0 


/*? 


7 


90 


/Of 


/OS 


so  6 


/zz 


7? 


/JJ 


36 


J3 


/A  6 


/oc 


JO 


/z6 


30 


Z<f 


23- 


/SV 


/Af 


7*- 


76 


7* 


206 


26 


7 


Fig.  8. 

207;  that  is  just  eighteen  normal  couplets  to  each.  For  S.  W.  9- 
square  the  numbers  37  to  72  and  154  to  189;  for  N.  E.  73  to  108 
and  118  to  153;  for  the  middle  square,  109  to  117.  Figs.  9  and  10 
show  the  method  of  construction.  The  nine  middle  terms  are  first 
arranged  as  a  3-square,  and  around  this  are  placed  by  a  well-known 
process  (Andrews,  p.  47)  eight  normal  couplets  101  +125  etc.  form- 
ing a  border  and  making  a  5 -square.  By  a  similar  process  this  is 
enlarged  to  a  7-square,  and  this  again  to  a  9-square,  Fig.  9.  Each 
of  these  concentric,  or  bordered,  or  overlapping  squares  is  magic 
by  itself.  The  twin  square  N.  E.  is  made  by  the  same  process  with 


458 


THE  MONIST. 


the  same  3-square  as  nucleus.  In  order  to  bring  this  nucleus  to 
the  corner  of  each  so  that  they  may  coalesce  with  a  bond  of  union, 
both  of  the  squares  are  turned  inside  out.  That  is,  whole  rows  are 
carried  from  bottom  to  top  and  from  left  to  right.  Such  trans- 
position does  not  affect  the  value  of  any  rectangular  row,  but  it 
does  affect  the  diagonals.  In  this  case  the  corner  numbers,  74,  138 
and  152  become  grouped  around  the  other  corner  88,  each  of  the 
couplets  having  the  same  diagonal  position  as  before.  Thus  we 
obtain  a  7-square  with  double  border  or  panel  on  the  North  and 
East,  still  magic.  This  7-square  may  now  be  moved  down  and  out 
a  little,  from  the  border  so  as  to  give  room  to  place  its  bottom 
row  above,  and  its  left  column  to  the  right,  and  we  have  a  5-square 
with  panels  of  four  rows.  Again  we  move  a  little  down  and  out 


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Fig.  10. 

Fig.  9. 


leaving  space  for  the  bottom  and  left  rows  of  the  5-square  and  thus 
the  3-square  advances  to  the  required  position,  and  the  four  squares 
still  overlap  and  retain  all  of  their  magical  properties.  The  twin 
square  S.  W.  passes  through  analogous  transformation.  The  minor 
squares  were  first  built  up  as  bordered  4-5  as  shown  in  Fig.  10  and 
then  the  single  border  was  changed  to  double  panel  on  two  sides, 
but  they  might  have  gone  in  without  change  to  fill  the  corners  of  the 
main  square.  As  all  this  work  was  done  by  the  aid  of  movable 
numbered  blocks  the  various  operations  were  more  simple  and 
rapid  than  any  verbal  description  can  be.  The  1 5-square  (Fig.  8) 
as  a  whole  has  the  constant  S  =  1695  in  thirty  rectangular  rows 
and  two  diagonals,  and  possibly  some  other  rows  will  give  a  correct 
result.  If  the  double  border  of  fifty-two  normal  couplets  be  re- 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  459 

moved  the  remaining"  n -square,  4-7-11  will  be  found  made  up  of 
two  4-squares  and  two  overlapping  7-squares  with  middle  3-square, 
all  magic.  Within  this  is  a  volunteer  7-square,  of  which  we  must 
not  expect  too  much,  but  its  six  middle  rows  and  two  diagonals  are 
correct,  and  the  corner  2X2  blocks  pertaining  to  the  4-squares  al- 
though not  composed  of  actual  couplets  have  the  value  thereof, 
224~|-228.  However,  without  those  blocks  we  have  two  overlapping 
5-squares  all  right.  By  the  way,  these  4-squares  have  a  very  high 
degree  of  magic,  like  those  shown  in  Fig.  6,  with  their  2-squares 
and  3-squares  so  curiously  overlapping.  Indeed,  this  recent  study 
had  its  origin  some  years  ago  from  observing  these  special  features 
of  the  4-square  at  its  best  state.  The  same  traits  were  recognized 
in  the  8's  and  other  congeners  ;  also  some  remarkable  results  found  in 
the  oddly-even  squares  when  filled  by  current  groups,  as  well  as  in 
the  quartered  squares,  led  gradually  to  the  general  scheme  of  over- 
lapping squares  as  here  presented.  Other  investigators  may  have 
been  working  consciously  or  unconsciously  on  similar  lines,  but  per- 
haps not  to  a  great  extent.  It  will  be  observed  that  the  sections  of 
Fig.  8  have  a  resemblance  to  some  curious  modifications  of  the  con- 
centric square,  devised  by  Mr.  Frierson  (Andrews,  p.  183).  This 
is  not  merely  a  chance  coincidence,  nor  an  imitation,  but  doubtless 
there  was  a  suggestion  of  possibilities.  Without  raising  any  ques- 
tion of  originality  or  priority  of  invention  it  may  be  claimed  that 
here  the  purpose  and  the  conditions  of  the  combination  were  quite 
different,  the  materials  more  extensive,  and  the  methods  of  con- 
struction probably  not  exactly  the  same. 

D.  F.  SAVAGE. 
HOPKINSVILLE,  KY. 


THE  BAGPIPE  NOT  A  HEBREW  INSTRUMENT. 

In  the  course  of  an  interesting  article  on  "Music  in  the  Old 
Testament,"  written  for  The  Monist,  April,  1909,  Professor  Carl 
Heinrich  Cornill,  of  Breslau,  makes  the  following  statement:  * 

"This  'ugab  is  most  probably  the  same  as  the  bagpipe,  which  is 
of  course  a  very  primitive  and  widely  spread  instrument,  familiar 
to  us  as  the  national  instrument  of  the  Scotch,  and  best  known  in 
continental  Europe  as  the  pifferari  of  Italy." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  however,  it  is  not  possible  to  say  what 
manner  of  musical  instrument  is  referred  to  in  the  Old  Testament 

1C  H.  Cornill,  loc.  cit,  p.  251. 


460  THE  MONIST. 

under  the  name  'ugab.  The  word  occurs  only  four  times.2  Except 
in  so  far  as  it  is  defined  as  the  name  of  a  musical  instrument,  no 
consistent  explanation  is  given  by  the  mediaeval  commentators.  Abra- 
ham di  Porta  Leone  (1612),  in  the  Shilte-haggibborim,  goes  so  far 
as  to  identify  it  with  the  viola  da  gamba  of  his  own  day,  an 
identification  which  cannot,  of  course,  be  accepted,  for  the  reason 
that  the  principle  of  bowed  instruments  was  unknown  to  the  He- 
brews. To  go  back  to  an  earlier  source,  it  appears  that  nothing 
definite  can  be  derived  from  the  evidence  of  the  Greek  and  Latin 
translations  of  the  Bible, — the  word  being  thus  variously  rendered: 

Gen.  iv.  21,  LXX  KiQdpa  Vulg.  organum  2 

Job  xxi.  12  "       \ffaXfjj6s  organum. 

Job  xxx.  31  "       ^oX/«)5  "      organum. 

Ps.  cl.  4,  opyavov  organum. 

There  is  no  evidence  whatever  that  it  was  a  bagpipe. 
An  explanation  to  this  effect  has,  however,  found  its  way  into 
encyclopedias  and  commentaries.  Its  source  has  lately  been  traced4 
to  a  misunderstanding,  complicated  further  by  inaccurate  references, 
of  a  note  in  Winer's  Realworterbuch?  that  a  Hebrew  version  of  the 
Aramaic  parts  of  the  book  of  Daniel  has  in  iii.  5  'iigab  for  sumpo- 
nyah*  The  date  of  this  version  which  is  found  in  a  manuscript  of 
1327,  is  uncertain;  it  contains,  beside  other  errors,  the  obvious  mis- 
translation, sabbeka  =  halil?  so  that  it  is  of  doubtful  value,  to  say 
the  least.8 

Of  the  meaning  of  sumponyah,  in  Daniel  iii.  5,  there  is  no  doubt. 
It  is  the  name  of  the  bagpipe,  and  indeed  the  only  name  by  which 

*Gen.  iv.  21 ;  Job.  xxi.  12;  xxx.  31 ;  Ps.  cl.  4. 

8  The  English  A.  V.,  following  St.  Jerome,  has  "organ,"  R.  V.  reads 
"pipe,"  following  the  Aramaic  Targums,  which  render  fugab  always  by  'abuba, 
"a  pipe." 

*G.  F.  Moore,  in  Journal  of  Biblical  Literature,  xxiv,  part  ii,  1905,  pp. 
169-171.  The  author  has  rendered  a  valuable  service  to  the  world  of  scholar- 
ship in  tracing  this  misinterpretation  to  its  source. 

5  G.  B.  Winer,  Biblisches  Realworterbuch,  Leipsic,  1849. 

'  Winer,  loc.  cit.,  vol.  ii,  p.  123,  s.  v.  "Musikalische  Instrumente" :  (a)  2^ 
Gen.  iv.  21 ;  Hiob  xxi.  I2.a,  nach  den  jiidischen  Interpreten,  Chald.  und  Hieron. 
die  Sackpfeife,  Dudelsack,  und  (b)  .T^BTpID  chald.  Dan.  iii.  5;  x.  15,  ffv^uvta. 
Polyb.  bei  Athen.  x.  439,  wohl  eben  dasselbe,  wie  denn  die  hebr.  Uebersetzung 
dafiir  3}W  hat. 

T Sabbeka,  <rampvKT]t  a  stringed  instrument;  halil,  a  flute. 

8  The  author  has  wisely  excluded  the  four  instruments  mentioned  in  Daniel 
iii.  5,  kitharos,  sabbeka,  psanterin,  and  siimponyah,  from  his  discussion  of  an- 
cient Hebrew  music. 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  461 

it  is  known  in  the  Old  Testament.  The  name  is  a  loanword  from 
the  Greeks,  who  knew  the  bagpipe  as  o^^wn'a,9  and  passed  the 
word  in  this  sense  on  to  the  Romans,  by  whom  it  has  been  trans- 
mitted to  the  Romance  tongues.  To-day  zampogna,  the  Italian 
derivative,  is  the  common  word  for  bagpipe  among  the  peasants 
of  Italy,  —  the  pifferarij  who  throng  at  Christmas  time  to  the 
cities  and  play  on  their  pipes  (pifferi)  and  bagpipes  (zampogne} 
before  the  street  shrines  of  the  Virgin.  In  Spain,  Provence,  Ron- 
mania,  Greece  and  Hungary,  the  bagpipe  is  still  called  by  names 
derived  from  symphonia — the  Greek  word  has  come  back  into  the 
language  in  the  form  rfrfnrovpva™ 

It  is  true  that,  with  the  exception  of  the  Pan's  pipe,  found  in  the 
New  World  as  well  as  the  Old,  scarcely  any  instrument  has  come 
into  general  usage  over  so  wide  an  extent  of  territory  as  the  bagpipe. 
The  ancient  Greeks  knew  it,11  the  emperor  Nero  counted  bagpiping 
among  his  accomplishments.12  There  remains,  however,  no  evi- 
dence that  the  Hebrews  knew  it  previous  to  the  time  of  Antiochus 
Epiphanes. 

PHILLIPS  BARRY,  A.M. 

PROVIDENCE,  R.  I. 


CREDULITY,  INCREDULITY,  AND  IMMORTALITY. 

How  much  may  be  legitimately  asserted  as  proved  with  re- 
gard to  the  relations  of  consciousness  and  matter?  To  simplify  the 
question,  let  us,  for  the  sake  of  argument,  ignore  all  the  claims  of 
psychical  research  on  behalf  of  the  spiritualist  hypothesis.  Let  us 
assume  that  we  have  absolutely  no  conclusive  scientific  evidence  of 
the  existence  of  consciousness  apart  from  matter.  Let  us  assume 
that,  in  every  recorded  instance,  consciousness  has  invariably  been 
found  in  association  with  matter.  What  then  is  our  logical  position  ? 
Is  it  proved  that  it  is  impossible  for  consciousness  to  exist  apart 
from  matter?  Most  emphatically  not! 

And  yet,  a  discussion  on  Immortality*  reveals  the  remarkable 
fact  that  three  eminent  persons,  Professor  Ernst  Haeckel,  famous 

•  Polybius  XXVI,  I ;  XXX,  26.    Cf .  LXX,  Dan.  iii.  5 ;  Luke  xv.  25. 

10  See  my  article,  Daniel  iii.  5, — sumponyah, — in  Journal  of  Biblical  Litera- 
ture, XXVII,  part  II,  1908,  pp.  IU-I2I. 

11  Aristophanes,  Acharnians,  862-66. 

a  Suetonius,  Nero,  54.    Cf.  Dio  Chrysostom,  Orat.  LXXI,  p.  381,  Reiske. 

*  See  Open  Court,  Vol.  XIX,  p.  363. 


462  THE  MONIST. 

throughout  the  whole  civilized  world,  Dr.  Carus,  the  editor  of  a 
philosophic  magazine  and  well  known  throughout  the  whole  philo- 
sophic world,  and  Mr.  Thaddeus  B.  Wakeman,  who  is,  I  think,  a 
man  of  distinction  among  a  certain  class  of  American  thinkers — 
have  all  three  publicly  and  irrevocably  committed  themselves  to  the 
contrary  proposition. 

What  is  the  explanation  of  this  remarkable  phenomenon?  In- 
credulity! And  what  is  incredulity  but  another  form  of  credulity — 
equally  damnable,  and,  in  persons  in  such  positions,  equally  disgrace- 
ful. Such  language,  perhaps,  may  appear  to  need  some  apology. 
I  can  only  say  that  the  occasion  deserves  it. 

Credulity  is  an  unreasonable  readiness  to  believe  that  some- 
thing is — to  believe  a  positive  proposition.  Incredulity  is  an  un- 
reasonable tendency  to  believe  that  something  is  not — to  believe  a 
negative  proposition — in  popular  language,  to  disbelieve.  Both  are 
equally  far  from  the  golden  mean — calm,  cold,  clear,  unprejudiced, 
rationalism.  The  credulous  man  is  too  ready  to  multiply  causes — 
to  call  in  new  causes  to  explain  phenomena  that  can  be  satisfactorily 
accounted  for  by  those  already  admitted.  The  incredulous  man, 
alarmed  at  the  results  of  credulity,  flies  to  the  other  extreme,  and 
tries  to  get  too  much  out  of  the  most  obvious  and  generally  admitted 
causes.  He  flatly  refuses  to  admit  even  the  possibility  of  any  but  a 
certain  limited  few — those  most  in  evidence.  He  exercises  all  his 
ingenuity  to  see  how  much  in  the  way  of  results  he  can  pile  on  to 
these.  And  in  his  craze  for  simplification,  the  final  goal  he  has  set 
himself,  is  to  eliminate  all  but  one — selected  as  his  fancy  may  dic- 
tate.1 This  intellectual  monstrosity,  Dr.  Carus  has  for  ever  stig- 
matized as  "Henism."  His  abode  we  might  perhaps  rightly  call 
"Gehenna."  And  it  is  with  great  pleasure  that  I  testify  that  Dr. 
Carus  has  proved  himself  too  good  for  such  company.  But  he  is 
too  much  in  sympathy  with  Gehenna  for  all  that. 

One  more  instance,  and  not  quite  such  a  glaring  one  is  provided 
in  Mr.  Abbott's  "Strange  Case,"  whose  admitted  strangeness  makes 
it  of  value  beyond  comparison  with  all  the  other  amusing  tales  with 
which  he  has  been  entertaining  us — until  that  strangeness  has  been 
explained  away. 

The  moral  honesty  with  which  Mr.  Abbott  has  endeavored  to 
be  intellectually  honest  in  his  account  is  as  evident  as  anything  can 
be.  But  yet  he  has  not  succeeded.  And  still  less  has  Dr.  Carus  in 

1  Whence  we  have  the  Idealism  of  Prof.  Ward,  the  "Energetics"  of  Pro- 
fessor Ostwald,  and  the  materialism  of  others. 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  463 

his  comments.  Mr.  Abbott's  classification  of  the  phenomena  that 
he  witnessed  under  the  heads  of  (i)  explicable  and  (2)  unex- 
plained is  painstakingly  fair  and  impartial.  Yet  he  exhibits  the 
same  irrational  prejudice  in  favor  of  what  he  is  pleased  to  call 
"rational  explanation,"  the  same  question — begging  assumption  that 
the  spiritual  hypothesis  is  necessarily  the  irrational  explanation,  as 
Dr.  Carus.  He  quotes  with  approval  Dr.  Carus's  saying  that  "when 
one  stands  before  something  that  he  cannot  explain,  he  should  not 
conclude  that  it  is  inexplicable,  and  attribute  it  to  supernatural 
causes."  The  very  use  of  the  word  "supernatural"  here  convicts 
them  both  of  prejudice.  All  causes  that  fall  outside  their  conception 
of  the  world  are  dubbed  supernatural.  If  there  are  any  such  things 
as  spirits,  then  they  must  he  inherent  parts  of  this  universe,  and  are 
no  more  supernatural  than  are  tables  and  chairs.  And  to  say  that 
to  attribute  phenomena  to  such  causes  is  the  same  as  to  pronounce 
them  inexplicable  amounts  to  a  tacit  and  utterly  unwarranted  as- 
sumption that  such  causes  cannot  possibly  have  any  real  existence. 
An  irrational  a  priori  conviction  of  the  impossibility  of  the  existence 
of  certain  causes  is  of  course  proof  against  any  amount  of  evidence 
in  favor  of  their  existence.  And  if  we  go  for  ever  refusing  to  con- 
sider the  possibility  of  the  existence  of  any  but  known  causes,  no 
matter  how  often  we  may  come  across  phenomena  which  are  not, 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  satisfactorily  accounted  for  by  those  causes — 
why  then  all  investigation  becomes  a  mere  farce.  And  a  judge  who 
professes  to  sit  in  an  open  court  while  he  has  all  the  time  a  closed 
mind  is  guilty  of  the  very  worst  kind  of  intellectual  dishonesty, 
namely  dishonesty  that  masquerades  as  honesty.  Of  course  the  dis- 
honesty is  unconscious — just  as  Dr.  Carus  (vide  last  para,  of  his 
comments)  seems  to  imply  that  Mrs.  Blake's  was.  But  that  only 
makes  the  moral  debacle  the  more  awful. 

If  astronomical  investigations  had  always  been  conducted  on 
Dr.  Carus's  principles,  mankind  would  to  this  day  be  ignorant  of 
the  actual  existence  of  the  planets  Neptune  and  Uranus,  and  of  the 
fact  of  the  velocity  of  light.  When  we  stand  in  the  presence  of 
something  that  we  cannot  explain,  it  is  every  bit  as  immoral  to  per- 
sist that  it  must  be  explicable  by  known  causes,  as  to  jump  to  the  con- 
clusion that  hitherto  unknown  causes  must  be  called  in.  Of  course 
it  is  always  open  to  us,  as  Dr.  Carus  says,  to  "comfort  ourselves"  by 
the  reflection  that  the  phenomena  could  be  explained  on  known 
causes,  if— something  or  other.  Note  the  unblushing  irrational 
prejudice  that  stands  confessed  in  those  two  words  "comfort  our- 


464  THE  MONIST. 

selves."  Our  intellectual  comfort  is  to  be  our  guide.  No  doubts 
as  to  our  own  fallibility  shall  distress  us,  no  disquieting  thoughts 
that  after  all  there  may  be  causes  not  dreamt  of  in  our  philosophy, 
— facts  that  won't  fit  into  our  cut  and  dried  scheme.  But  we  can- 
not go  on  laying  ghosts  that  way  for  ever.  They  will  not  put  up 
with  it.  Unfortunately  there  always  is  that  "if"  in  these  apparently 
inexplicable  cases.  And  as  these  cases  have  been  going  on  multi- 
plying for  a  good  while  now,  there  are  not  wanting  many  eminent 
scientific  men  who  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  it  is  time  for 
the  spiritual  theory  to  rank  as  a  working  hypothesis.  In  the  only 
notice  that  Dr.  Cants  has  ever  condescended  to  take  of  Mr.  F.  W. 
H.  Myers  either  in  The  Open  Court  or  Monist — a  brief  reference 
tacked  on  the  end  of  some  little  note  or  book  review  in  the  mis- 
cellaneous matter  at  the  end  of  an  Open  Court,  which  I  have  tried 
unsuccessfully  to  find  again — Dr.  Cams  admits  that  Mr.  Myers 
has  done  more  in  this  direction  than  anybody  else.  But  he  charac- 
teristically adds  that  "even  he  cannot  be  said  to  have  proved"  the 
spiritual  hypothesis.  Dr.  Carus  could  not  bring  himself  to  say  that 
Mr.  Myers  had  signally  failed  in  his  attempt.  And  so  he  "comforts 
himself"  with  the  reflection  that  the  hypothesis  is  still  not  proved. 
Why  should  this  be  a  comfort  to  him  any  more  than  the  other  alter- 
native? The  honest  way  of  stating  such  a  case  would  have  been  to 
say  that  Mr.  Myers  had  produced  a  great  deal  of  evidence  in  favor 
of  the  hypothesis,  and  had  done  much  to  render  it  probable.  Still 
this  Scotch  verdict  of  "not  proven,"  into  which  Dr.  Carus  has  be- 
trayed himself  in  this  single  brief  and  passing  allusion  contrasts 
not  unfavorably  with  the  attitude  of  dogmatic  denials  of  the  possi- 
bility of  the  spiritual  hypothesis — the  attitude  characteristic  of  Prof. 
Ernst  Haeckel,  and  certainly  endorsed  by  Dr.  Carus  and  Mr.  Wake- 
man,  in  the  instance  above  quoted,  in  The  Open  Court  for  June  1905. 
And  coupling  this  "not  proven"  together  with  several  other  slight 
indications,  e.  g.,  his  ad»ission  of  his  need  of  "comfort,"  I  am  in- 
clined to  suspect  in  my  own  mind  that  Dr.  Carus  finds  his  intellectual 
position  not  quite  as  comfortable  as  he  would  have  us  believe.  His 
ghosts  are  not  quite  as  effectually  laid  as  he  would  like.  He  has 
never  scoffed;  that  is  one  thing.  Therein  is  some  hope  of  his  re- 
demption. 

*       *       * 

With  regard  to  the  general  question  of  individual  immortality, 
however,  I  must  confess  that  my  own  interest  has  until  lately  been 
philosophic,  rather  than  scientific.  I  have  not  troubled  much  to 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  465 

weigh  the  direct  scientific  evidence  that  modern  spiritualism  claims 
to  have  discovered  in  these  extraordinary  phenomena ;  for  the  simple 
reason  that  it  has  always  seemed  to  me  superfluous  to  turn  to  such 
phenomena  for  proof  of  the  spiritual  hypothesis.  The  philosophic 
proof  of  that  hypothesis  has  always  appeared  to  me  so  overwhelm- 
ing as  to  reduce  to  comparative  insignificance  the  importance  of 
scientifically  demonstrable  instances  of  the  truth.  And  science  for 
science's  sake,  independently  of  its  argument  that  we  have  no  direct 
scientific  proof  of  the  existence  of  an  individual  and  therefore  im- 
mortal soul,  it  has  nevertheless  always  seemed  to  me  that  the  truth 
of  this  existence  is  an  inevitable  inference  from  the  common  facts 
of  daily  life. 

In  the  philosophic  treatment  of  this  subject,  however,  as  in  the 
scientific,  the  same  deep  prejudice  is  shown  by  the  whole  anti- 
spiritualist  school.  The  philosophic  argument  is  one  that  I  have 
never  yet  seen  fairly  stated.  «The  old-fashioned  orthodox  spiritualist 
school  have  had  their  apriorism  well  rubbed  into  them  by  the  anti- 
spiritualists ;  but  these  latter,  with  Dr.  Cams  among  them,  are  all 
deeply  tarred  with  the  same  brush.  It  is  an  extraordinary  thing 
that  there  is  a  large  class  of  thinkers  who  are  ready  to  believe  any- 
thing, rather  than  that  they  have  individual  immortal  souls ;  and 
they  will  commit  the  most  flagrant  mistakes  in  common  logical 
calculations,  rather  than  admit  such  a  conclusion.  In  the  Monist 
for  January  1908,  Dr.  Carus  was  kind  enough  to  publish  one  of 
my  "overwhelming"  philosophic  arguments,  in  which  I  endeavored 
to  show  how  the  whole  modern  scientific  school  have  blundered 
over  the  subject  of  human  will  in  its  relation  to  the  conservation 
of  energy,  because  of  their  obstinate  refusal  to  admit  the  spiritual 
hypothesis.  No  feats  of  dialectic  or  argumentative  contortions  can 
ever  make  it  possible  that  animal  movements  that  are  partly  de- 
termined by  consciousness  can  at  the  same  time  be  entirely  deter- 
mined by  mechanical  antecedents.  The  anti-spiritualists,  however, 
defy  all  logic  in  their  effort  to  bolster  up  materialism.  And  each  has 
a  patent  of  his  own  for  wriggling  out  of  this  awkward  position. 
Dr.  Cams,  however,  after  describing  his  patent,  unblushingly  admits 
that  the  real  ground  of  his  objection  to  a  theory  of  spiritual  causa- 
tion is  his  own  prejudice  in  favor  of  what  he  calls  "a  truly  con- 
sistent monistic  view" — that  is,  an  anti-spiritualistic  one.  The  argu- 
ment by  which  he  seeks  to  uphold  the  old-fashioned  materialist  ver- 
sion of  the  conservation  of  energy,  is  one  which  is  part  and  parcel 
of  my  own  spiritualist  version  of  that  doctrine.  Meanwhile,  by  way 


466  THE  MONIST. 

of  conclusion,  I  would  like  here  to  present  him  with  another  philo- 
sophical conclusion,  from  which,  I  must  confess,  I  myself  personally 
have  never  yet  been  able  to  discover  any  possibility  of  escape. 

All  true  philosophy  must,  to  my  mind,  be  based  upon  one 
axiom  and  one  only — namely  that  the  universe  has  a  meaning. 
Despite  all  its  apparent  inconsistencies  and  contradictions,  we  must 
believe,  if  we  are  not  to  be  put  to  intellectual  confusion,  that  it  is 
really  one  harmonious  whole.  And  our  business  as  philosophers 
is  simply  to  discover  the  system  on  which  it  is  built — the  key  that 
shall  explain  it  all.  To  assume  that  there  is  a  system,  and  then  to 
search  for  it. 

Dr.  Carus  himself  admits  that  a  place  must  be  found  in  our 
world-conception  for  the  immortality  of  the  soul.  And  he  claims 
to  have  fitted  in  that  doctrine  to  his  philosophy — in  short,  to  have 
wedded  together  spiritualism  (or  rather  soul-ism)  and  materialism.2 
But  he  has  not.  His  immortality  is  a  spurious  article.  He  has  fitted 
it  to  his  materialistic  universe  only  by  depriving  it  of  all  immortality 
except  in  name. 

If  his  philosophy  is  true,  then  the  fact  remains,  as  he  himself 
admits,  that,  one  day,  all  life,  all  mind  and  soul,  all  consciousness, 
all  thought,  all  noble  aspirations  toward  the  high,  all  struggles 
against  lower  ideals,  all  goodness,  all  sin,  all  sorrow  and  all  joy, — all 
that  makes  man  man,  and  that  gives  life  any  purpose  or  value — will 
be  as  completely  wiped  out  and  extinct  in  this  world  as  if  they  had 
never  existed.  It  may  sound  an  unphilosophic  remark;  but  I  can 
only  say  that  that,  to  my  mind,  is  rank  twaddle.  What  does  it 
matter  what  any  of  us  do  or  think!  It  will  all  be  the  same  a  mil- 
lion years  hence.  Why  not  bore  a  big  hole  to  the  center  of  the 
earth  and  put  in  a  billion  tons  of  dynamite,  and  have  done  with  it 
all  for  ever,  now.  It  might  be  argued  that  if  we  can  make  sure 
of  a  million  years  of  soul-survival,  that  ought  to  be  enough  to  con- 
tent us.  But  what  is  a  million  years,  or  what  is  time  at  all?!  In 
the  affairs  of  the  universe,  a  million  years  is  much  the  same  thing 
as  five  minutes.  What  possible  purpose  could  there  be  in  for  ever 
bringing  worlds  into  existence  like  that,  one  after  the  other, — just 
to  wipe  them  out  again?  I  live  for  you,  and  you  for  me,  and  you 
and  I  live  for  posterity,  and  they  for  some  other  posteriority — and 
so  on.  And  one  day  there  won't  be  any  posterity.  What  then? 

8  By  materialism  I  mean  simply  anti-spiritualism,  a  conception  of  the  uni- 
verse which  denies  spirit  I  quite  understand  and  sympathize  with  Dr.  Carus's 
reasons  for  repudiating  the  charge  of  materialism. 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  467 

What,  I  ask,  is  the  value  of  life  itself,  as  life?  And  you  can  only 
reply — NONE!  You  admit  that  and  you  say  you  are  satisfied. 
Continued  individual  existence  has  no  attraction  for  you.  Of  course 
not — if  you  have  drugged  your  soul  to  make  it  fit  into  your  little 
picture  of  life.  No  one  would  want  a  continuous  existence  such  as 
that  of  this  present  human  race  chained  here  to  this  earth.  But 
do  no  possibilities  beyond  that  rise  in  one's  mind — no  wider  life 
sharing  in  the  life  of  the  universe  itself?  My  soul  does  not  belong 
to  here  and  now — it  belongs  to  God. 

And  God!  your  God!  a  big  machine,  devoid  of  consciousness. 
You  are  very  much  impressed  with  the  "wonderful"-ness  of  con- 
sciousness. If  it  fills  you  so  with  wonder,  I  should  suspect  that  after 
all  it  does  not  fit  quite  so  comfortably  into  your  little  universe — the 
little  shoes  you  have  made  for  it.  You  try  to  account  for  it.  It  is 
a  fact — undeniable.  It  is  wonderful.  It  is  the  fabric  of  the  soul. 
It  is  not  a  substance,  nor  a  permanent  existence,  nor  an  entity.  It 
originates  and  disappears  (creation  out  of  nothing — no — beg  pardon 
— consciousness  is  nothing).  The  fact  remains,  however,  that  this 
queer  thing  is  the  greatest  thing  in  the  world.  And  yet,  (i)  one 
day  it  will  be  gone  for  ever!  and  (2)  it  is  not  in  God!  I  can  only 
say — If  I  have  nothing  greater  than  myself  to  loop  up  to  and  depend 
on,  if  the  material  soul-less  world  is  my  father  and  my  God,  then 
woe  is  me,  and  woe  is  the  world!  I  am  left  face  to  face  with  a 
fathomless  pessimism. 

I  know  that  Dr.  Carus  would  say  that  even  the  material  world 
is  not  absolutely  soul-less — that  all  matter  has  a  subjectivity  of  a 
sort.  And  that  soul  has  in  some  mysterious  way  grown  out  of  this 
subjectivity  of  matter — that  the  substance  of  the  world  is  not,  in 
any  department  of  it,  absolutely  inanimate.  But  be  that  as  it  may, 
it  makes  no  difference  to  the  burden  of  my  complaint.  Relatively  to 
us  the  material  world  is  inanimate  and  soul-less.  In  the  spiritual 
aspect  of  it,  it  is  beneath  us.  The  first  beginnings  of  soul  are  neces- 
sarily inferior  to  its  climax.  And  it  is  an  uncomfortable  position 
for  an  aspiring  soul  to  find  itself  in — at  the  top,  with  no  infinitely 
greater  beyond  to  aspire  to.  That  has  ever  been  the  complaint  of 
the  spiritualist  against  evolution.  Evolution  is  a  truth ;  but  it  is  not 
the  whole  truth.  It  requires  what  spiritualists  call  "involution"  to 
complete  it — that  is,  the  descent  of  the  infinite,  the  perfect,  into  the 
finite — the  incarnation  of  God.  The  finite  soul  could  never  have 
evolved  unless  the  perfect  soul  had  existed  in  the  infinite.  Soul  is 
the  highest  thing  in  us.  And  we  search  in  God  for  all  that  is 


468  THE   MONIST. 

highest  in  ourselves — only,  in  God,  it  must  be  on  a  still  higher  scale 
— not  on  a  lower.  Of  course  God's  consciousness  cannot  be  ours. 
It  is  ours  with  the  condition  of  infinity  added  to  it — that  is,  it  is 
unconditioned,  infinite,  transcendental.  What  it  actually  is  like, 
we  can  hardly  describe.  Because  it  has  no  like.  It  is  unique.  We 
can  only  say  of  it  that  it  is  something  that  corresponds  on  the  in- 
finite scale  to  our  consciousness  on  the  finite  scale.  It  is  that  from 
which  finite  consciousness  can  be  evolved.  It  needs,  perhaps,  the 
subtlety  of  a  German  to  help  us  out  here.  Kant  tells  us  that  God's 
consciousness  is  free  from  the  limitations  of  space  and  time;  and 
that  therefore  it  is  not  thinking.  He  calls  it  "primitive  intuition."8 
Dr.  Cams  says  that  God  is  super-personal.  So  do  I.  But  this  is 
my  idea  of  super-personality.  I  think  Dr.  Carus  ought  to  come 
round  to  it  without  much  difficulty.  I  should  rejoice  if  he  could. 

W.  E.  AYTON  WILKINSON. 
BURMA,  INDIA. 


THE  OLD  AND  THE  NEW. 

IN   REPLY  TO   MR.   W.   E.   AYTON    WILKINSON. 

Among  our  subscribers  of  long  standing,  there  has  scarcely 
been  a  more  careful  and  faithful,  and  (we  must  add)  more  critical 
reader  than  Mr.  W.  E.  Ayton  Wilkinson,  of  Thanatpin  Burma,  in 
distant  India.  He  was  critical  because  he  did  not  agree  with  our 
editorial  position  which  he  regarded  as  rank  materialism,  he  him- 
self being  a  spiritualist,  not  of  the  crude  and  credulous  kind  that 
seek  comfort  in  the  seances  of  mediums,  but  a  thinker  who  endeav- 
ored to  base  his  conviction  upon  a  philosophical  foundation.  We 
have  exchanged  many  letters,  and  several  articles  of  his  have  ap- 
peared in  The  Monist,  all  of  them  attacking  the  editorial  views  as 
to  the  nature  of  the  soul,  of  consciousness,  and  of  immortality. 
They  were  all  thoughtful  and  presented  arguments  worthy  of  con- 
sideration and  answer. 

Though  personally  a  stranger,  his  letters  have  exhibited  a  warm 
friendship,  and  he  lived  in  the  hope  of  converting  us  to  his  views. 
The  last  contribution  from  his  pen  appears  in  the  current  number 
and  we  regret  to  add  with  great  sorrow,  that  while  his  article  was 
standing  in  type  and  before  we  sent  him  proofs,  we  received  the  un- 
expected news  of  his  death. 

8 1  do  not  know  German  myself ;  and  Mahaffy' s  and  Bernard's  Kant  is  the 
only  edition  I  have. 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  469 

I  may  be  permitted  to  add  a  few  personal  remarks.  Mr.  Wil- 
kinson knew  me  sufficiently  to  be  certain  that  I  would  not  hesitate 
to  publish  his  criticism  and  he  said  exactly  what  he  meant.  He  is 
impatiently  severe  and  it  is  greatly  to  be  regretted  that  he  cannot  see 
his  article  in  print  and  feel  the  satisfaction  of  having  had  his  say 
in  all  its  vigor  and  directness.  I  must  confess  that  while  reading  the 
manuscript  I  enjoyed  his  outspoken  expressions  which  are  the  more 
noteworthy  as  they  come  from  a  kind  heart.  He  has  always  mani- 
fested an  unusual  sympathy  for  me  whom  he  regarded  as  the  most 
dangerous  opponent  of  his  deeply  cherished  convictions. 

We  know  little  of  Mr.  Wilkinson's  personal  affairs,  except  that 
he  was  a  mechanical  engineer  and  a  thoughtful  student  of  psychol- 
ogy. He  took  a  great  interest  in  the  labors  of  the  Society  for  Psy- 
chical Research  of  England,  and  always  regarded  it  as  an  unpardon- 
able negligence  on  our  part  that  we  did  not  devote  more  space  to 
their  proceedings  and  other  publications.  Why  we  have  not  done 
so  ought  to  have  been  obvious  to  him,  who  himself  lays  more  stress 
upon  philosophical  reasons  than  upon  scattered  facts,  or,  as  he  calls 
them,  "scientifically  demonstrable  arguments  of  the  truth." 

Mr.  Wilkinson  is  mistaken,  however,  when  he  imagines  that 
I  have  neglected  to  consider  the  methods  and  results  of  the  S.  P.  R. 
I  have  said  little  about  their  work  because  I  have  no  reason  to  hinder 
their  investigations,  or  to  dampen  the  zeal  of  those  well  intentioned 
(but  in  my  opinion  strangely  mistaken)  seekers  after  truth.  The 
fact  is  that  I  have  not  discovered  much  that  is  worth  mentioning. 
The  results  are  all  of  a  negative  character  which,  if  they  prove  any- 
thing, indicate  that  their  method  is  futile.  Still  I  wait  for  further 
developments  and  will  not  hesitate  to  call  attention  to  anything  that 
would  seem  of  importance  to  me. 

Mr.  Wilkinson  is  further  mistaken  in  thinking  that  I  have  not 
reviewed  Mr.  Frederic  H.  Myers's  voluminous  work  on  Human 
Personality:  Its  Survival  After  Bodily  Death.  In  addition  to  the 
comment  from  which  Mr.  Wilkinson  quotes,  it  was  reviewed  in  The 
Open  Court,  May  19,  1903  (Vol.  XVII,  p.  308  f.).  Moreover  I 
have  discussed  somewhat  at  length  the  experiments  made  by  Pro- 
fessors James  and  Hyslop  with  Mrs.  Piper  and  can  say  only  that 
they  are  typical  of  a  large  number  of  trance  phenomena,  so  called. 
They  prove  nothing  more  than  does  Mr.  Abbott's  "Strange  Case" 
which  is  interesting  only  because  so  much  has  been  made  of  it  by 
Psychical  Researchers ;  but  which  I  consider  (and  so  does  Mr.  Ab- 
bott) as  much  of  a  failure  as  all  the  work  of  the  S.  P.  R. 


47°  THE  MONIST. 

Now  when  considering  Mr.  Wilkinson's  strictures,  I  find  that 
aside  from  some  vigorous  protests  made  in  strong  language,  he 
offers  no  tenable  arguments  whatever,  and  it  is  characteristic  of  him 
that  the  ultimate  basis  of  his  views  is  not  reached  by  thought  but 
by  sentiment.  He  is  a  pragmatist.  He  believes  because  he  has  the 
will  to  believe.  His  psycholgy  has  its  roots  in  his  attitude  toward 
the  world  as  a  whole,  and  his  philosophy  is  not  of  an  intellectual 
nature.  Attitudes  can  be  neither  refuted  nor  proved ;  they  are  sub- 
jective. 

In  the  present  case,  far  from  rejecting  Mr.  Wilkinson's  attitude, 
I  am  inclined  to  recommend  it.  I  had  the  same  attitude  and  also 
the  same  mode  of  adjusting  my  philosophy  to  it  in  my  younger 
years,  and  my  present  attitude  is  merely  the  result  of  broadening 
and  adapting  myself  to  a  deeper  insight  into  the  nature  of  things. 

Mr.  Wilkinson  says: 

"All  true  philosophy  must,  to  my  mind,  be  based  upon  one  axiom  and  one 
only — namely  that  the  universe  has  a  meaning.  Despite  all  its  apparent  in- 
consistencies and  contradictions,  we  must  believe,  if  we  are  not  to  be  put  to 
intellectual  confusion,  that  it  is  really  one  harmonious  whole.  And  our  busi- 
ness as  philosophers  is  simply  to  discover  the  system  on  which  it  is  built — 
the  key  that  shall  explain  it  all.  To  assume  that  there  is  a  system,  and  then 
to  search  for  it." 

I  am  prepared  to  go  a  step  further  than  Mr.  Wilkinson.  To 
me  it  is  not  an  axiom  but  a  demonstrable  truth  that  the  universe  is 
"one  harmonious  whole"  and  I  have  always  insisted  that  "the  uni- 
verse has  a  meaning."  The  order  of  the  world  (which  appears 
most  obviously  in  the  so-called  laws  of  nature)  constitutes  a  system. 
This  system  can  be  traced  by  science,  and  furnishes  the  basis  of 
ethics  as  well  as  of  religion.  Without  it  could  exist  neither  science, 
art,  morality,  nor  any  of  our  ideals.  It  is  much  more  than  a  mere 
logical  proposition,  it  is  an  objective  norm;  it  is  the  condition  of 
all  order,  all  harmony,  the  possibility  of  human  personality  and  of  all 
the  grand  aspirations  which  adorn  it  and  make  man's  existence 
valuable.  In  a  word,  it  is  what  religion  calls  "God." 

Now  the  difficulty  which  besets  Mr.  Wilkinson  consists  exactly 
in  this :  he  clings  to  the  symbol  or  allegory  under  which  this  ultimate 
foundation  of  the  dignity  of  our  existence  is  conceived.  Otherwise 
we  agree.  With  him  I  would  say,  "My  soul  does  not  belong  here 
or  now;  it  belongs  to  God." 

Our  lives  are  transient.  Every  action  of  ours,  every  joy,  every 
sorrow,  every  event  be  it  good  or  bad,  sinful  or  virtuous,  passes  by, 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  471 

and  though  its  traces  will  linger,  the  time  will  come  when  this  whole 
earth  will  be  no  more  and  we  shall  be  as  if  we  never  had  been.  But 
the  value  of  our  lives  does  not  lie  in  the  number  of  years,  nor  is  it 
on  the  other  hand  impaired  by  shortness.  Our  lives  are  to  be  meas- 
ured by  quality  of  life  rather  than  by  quantity  of  time,  and  Mr. 
Wilkinson  is  quite  right  when  he  says,  "What  is  a  million  years? 
What  is  time  itself  in  the  life  of  the  universe?  A  million  years  is 
much  the  same  thing  as  five  minutes." 

What  gives  worth  to  our  lives  is  not  quantity  but  quality,  and 
the  quality  that  elevates  us  is  exactly  the  eternal  background  of 
which  we  are,  or  ought  to  be,  the  incarnation.  Buddha  calls  the 
divinity  after  which  we  all  aspire,  the  Dhamma,  and  expresses  it 
thus  in  some  stanzas  of  the  Dhammapada: 

"If  one  should  live  an  hundred  years, 
Ignorant,  discomposed, 
Better  to  him  were  life  one  day 
Intelligent,  enrapt. 

"If  one  should  live  an  hundred  years, 
Inert  and  weak  of  will, 
Better  to  him  were  life  one  day 
Exerting  will-power  strong. 

"If  one  should  live  an  hundred  years, 
Not  seeing  the  highest  Doctrine, 
Better  to  him  were  life  one  day 
When  seeing  the  highest  Doctrine/' 

Mr.  Wilkinson  says  in  criticism  of  my  views,  "What  possible 
purpose  could  there  be  in  forever  bringing  worlds  into  existence 
one  after  another,  just  to  wipe  them  out  again?  I  live  for  you  and 
you  live  for  me,  and  you  and  I  live  for  posterity  and  they  for  some 
other  posteriority  and  so  on.  And  one  day  there  won't  be  any  posterity 
and  what  then?  What,  I  ask,  is  the  value  of  life  as  life,  and  you 
can  only  reply,  NONE/'' 

Mr.  Wilkinson  forgets  that  the  background  of  all  life  which  he 
calls  the  system  of  the  whole  and  which  I  fully  recognize,  is  to  all 
practical  extent  identical  with  what  in  monotheistic  religions  is 
called  God.  It  is  true  enough  that  I  live  for  you  and  you  live  for 
me  and  we  both  live  for  posterity,  and  that  our  interests  are  mu- 
tually balanced  so  that  no  one  lives  for  himself  alone.  The  center 
of  gravity  lies  outside  of  us,  and  the  farther  away  it  lies  from  any, 
person  the  better  it  is.  Woe  to  him  who  tries  to  have  the  center  of 
his  existence  in  his  own  puny  little  self.  Egotism  is  not  a  system 


472  THE  MONIST. 

which  recommends  itself.  It  will  never  satisfy  our  heart's  desire 
and  will  leave  us  as  empty  as  a  bubble.  When  its  race  is  run  it 
will  burst  and  leave  nothing  behind.  It  is  exactly  the  significance 
of  its  interconnections  which  gives  value  to  life  and  makes  life's 
purpose  endure. 

But  we  must  not  forget  that  all  the  play  of  human  activities 
with  their  mutually  balanced  interests  between  you  and  me  and 
others  would  be  mere  nonentities  were  they  not  understood  to  be 
the  surface  only  of  that  unfathomable  ocean  of  life  which  is  God, 
the  eternal  world-order,  the  norm  of  All-Being,  the  standard  of 
right  and  wrong,  the  origin  and  prototype  of  our  highest  ideals, 
and  the  final  goal  to  which  we  return.  This  unfathomable  ocean  of 
which  we  are  the  mere  surface  billows  is  not  a  nonentity.  Though 
it  is  not  a  bodily  or  material  existence,  it  is  the  quintessence  of  our 
lives  and  has  been  felt  to  be  such  by  mankind  since  the  most  primi- 
tive beginnings  of  civilization.  Here  lies  the  root  of  all  religions 
and  I  recognize  the  omnipresence  of  this  eternal  norm  even  though 
I  would  reject  as  mere  allegories  the  definitions  and  symbols  in 
which  myths  and  dogmas  express  it. 

In  the  sense  of  this  God-conception,  we  must  read  the  mean- 
ing of  our  own  personal  existence.  Though  there  is  no  individual 
self,  such  as  Mr.  Wilkinson  hankers  after,  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say 
that  man's  soul  is  an  actuality  and  its  significance  extends  as  far 
as  its  interests,  its  sympathies,  its  comprehensions  will  reach.  Our 
souls  are  built  up  of  our  ideals,  our  sympathies  and  our  interests, 
and  as  they  manifest  themselves  in  our  labors  and  aspirations  they 
are  not  limited  to  our  bodily  existence.  Our  souls  extend  wherever 
our  influence  goes  and  so  they  will  live 

"Or  ever  the  silver  cord  be  loosed, 
Or  the  golden  bowl  be  broken, 
Or  the  pitcher  be  broken  at  the  well, 
Or  the  wheel  broken  at  the  cistern. 

"And  the  dust  return  to  the  earth, 
As  it  was ; 

And  the  spirit  return  unto  God 
Who  gave  it."  * 

Spiritualists,  even  those  who  like  Mr.  Wilkinson  are  thinkers, 

are  practically  materialists.     They  cling  to  the  symbol  and  forget 

its  significance.    They  overrate  the  part  which  consciousness  plays, 

and  overlook  the  fact  that  the  main  feature  of  the  soul  consists  in  its 

*  Eccl.  xii.  6. 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  473 

thinking,  not  in  its  feeling,  its  sentiency,  nor  in  whatever  else  belongs 
to  the  senses.  Consciousness  is  needed  for  thinking.  It  is  an  in- 
strument but  not  an  end.  It  is  the  concentration  of  feeling  (of 
sense  activity)  upon  one  point  to  which  our  attention  for  some  or 
any  reason  is  to  be  directed.  The  final  purpose  of  it  is  to  throw 
light  upon  the  path  of  life  so  as  to  enable  us  to  take  the  right  step 
and  advance  in  the  right  direction.  Consciousness  serves  as  a 
searchlight  which  illumines  the  field  of  vision,  but  is  as  such  tran- 
sient and  secondary.  Its  main  purpose  is  to  gain  insight  and  to 
discover  the  truth. 

Mr.  Wilkinson  is  a  typical  representative  of  many  serious  people 
who  seek  the  truth,  who  know  by  intuition  the  significance  of  re- 
ligious truths,  who  know  especially  that  the  soul  is  worth  more  to  us 
than  anything  in  the  world.  The  soul  is  we  ourselves  and  the  Bib- 
lical saying  remains  true,  "What  doth  it  profit  a  man  if  he  gain  the 
whole  world  and  lose  his  own  soul?"  Mr.  Wilkinson  feels  that  the 
great  religious  truths  of  the  dignity  of  the  soul,  of  immortality,  of 
moral  ideals,  would  slip  away  from  him  if  he  gave  up  his  soul-con- 
ception, and  he  is  so  accustomed  to  the  one  in  which  he  has  been 
educated  that  my  broader  view  appears  to  him  purely  negative,  and 
I  do  not  think  it  would  have  been  possible  for  him  to  see  the  deeper 
meaning  of  my  conception  of  God,  soul,  and  world  though  it  is 
perhaps  much  nearer  to  his  own  than  he  could  comprehend.  I  my- 
self, passed  through  a  long  period  of  despair  in  which  I  thought 
that  unless  God  was  exactly  as  I  had  pictured  him  in  my  childhood, 
there  was  no  God  at  all ;  and  if  immortality  was  not  exactly  the  im- 
mortality which  Christian  mythology  pictures,  it  would  not  and  could 
not  afford  us  comfort.  But  the  world  is  deeper  than  we  have 
thought.  God  is  greater  than  dogmatic  religion  represents  Him  to 
be ;  our  souls  are  still  linked  with  eternity  and  before  us  opens  a 
vista  of  infinitude. 

EDITOR. 


BOOK  REVIEWS  AND  NOTES. 

ANTI-PRAGMATISME.  Examen  des  droits  respectifs  de  Taristocratie  intellec- 
tuelle  et  de  la  democratic  sociale,  par  Albert  Schinz,  professeur  a 
1'universite  de  Bryn  Mawr.  Paris :  Alcan,  1909.  Pp.  301.  Price  5  fr. 

The  first  part  is  a  refutation  of  pragmatism.  The  problem  is  reduced  to 
a  dilemma:  Either  the  pragmatic  method  (of  judging  ideas  and  theories  from 
their  results  and  not  from  their  own  rational  value,  from  their  "cash  value" 
as  James  says,  and  not  from  their  objective  value)  is  the  same  as  the  scien- 
tific method,  in  which  case  there  is  no  need  of  a  new  philosophy;  or  it  is  not 
the  same  and  does  not  agree  with  the  scientific  method,  in  which  case  it  is  not 
scientific.  Now,  as  there  can  be  no  thought  as  to  the  existence  of  a  pragmatic 
philosophy  (one  need  only  watch  the  formidable  literature  on  the  subject) 
pragmatism  is  something  not  scientific.  What  is  it?  It  consists  in  reducing 
philosophy  in  general  to  ethical  philosophy;  in  subordinating  philosophy  to 
moral  purposes.  Pragmatism  means  a  return  to  the  age  of  scholasticism: 
Philosophia,  ancilla  theologiae  said  the  Middle  Ages,  Philosophic,,  ancilla 
ethicae  says  Pragmatism;  Philosophy  a  "servant"  in  both  cases.  The  fallacy 
on  which  Pragmatic  method  rests  is  exposed  in  book  I,  pp.  26-37.  The  prag- 
matic paradox  has  been  expressed  several  times  since  scholasticism ;  by  Pascal 
("The  heart  has  its  reasons  which  reason  knows  not  of),  by  Rousseau  who 
taught  his  pupil  to  use  always  the  criterion  of  the  "useful,"  and  asked  the 
pragmatic  question,  "What  is  it  good  for?"  by  Kant  who  claims  the  rights  of 
"practical  reason"  as  being  above  those  of  "pure  reason" — i.  e.,  always  sub- 
mitting objective  truth  to  moral  postulates  or  requirements. 

The  second  part  asks  why,  if  pragmatism  is  so  weak  philosophically,  does 
it  have  so  many  followers  ?  Pragmatism  must  be  explained  as  a  special  prod- 
uct of  modern  civilization,  or  modern  preoccupations  which  are  more  freely 
developed  in  America  than  elsewhere,  hence  the  fact  that  pragmatism  is  espe- 
cially flourishing  in  America.  In  our  days  of  democracy,  philosophic  ideas 
are  no  longer  discussed  among  the  chosen  few,  but  by  everybody,  by  the 
masses ;  the  result  is  that  philosophy  is  no  longer  free  to  express  truths  which 
might  be  dangerous  for  the  masses  (see  pp.  98-104  for  this  fundamental  de- 
velopment). Philosophy  must  express  only  useful,  moral,  pragmatic  truth, 
even  though  truth  itself  lie  in  an  opposite  direction ;  truth  must  be  good,  useful. 
Pragmatism  is  nothing  but  this  adulterated  philosophy;  philosophy  sold  to 
democracy.  Two  beliefs  are  necessary  in  ages  like  ours :  belief  in  free-will  to 
stimulate  energies;  and  belief  in  God's  moral  government  of  the  world,  so  as 
to  restrain  man  from  the  religion  of  success.  Pragmatism  will  fight  any  phi- 
losophy, any  science,  any  idea  that  goes  against  these  two  fundamental  dog- 
mas. 


BOOK  REVIEWS  AND  NOTES.  475 

The  third  part  develops  the  thesis  that  pragmatism  is  good  and  therefore 
ought  to  triumph  because  it  is  not  true ;  for  truth  is  discouraging  from  the  moral 
point  of  view  because  it  is  not  amiable.  Thus,  it  is  good  to  keep  the  masses 
from  objective  truth,  and  tell  them  to  believe  in  something  else.  Pragmatww 
is  good ;  but  pragmatwfo  are  deceiving  us  when  they  say  that  pragmatism  and 
philosophy  or  science  agree,  for  they  do  not.  Pragmatists  are  right  when 
they  advocate  pragmatism  for  the  masses,  but  they  are  wrong  when  they  claim 
that  pragmatism  is  objective  truth.  There  is  only  one  way  of  straightening 
out  matters :  let  us  say  that  there  are  two  truths,  one  for  the  masses  and  one 
for  the  scholar.  This  attitude  would  be  wrong  only  if  we  philosophers  were 
responsible  for  the  fact  that  real  truth  is  sad,  and  bad;  but  we  are  not;  and 
therefore  we  will  show  our  humanity,  in  telling  people  to  believe  (the  follow- 
ing are  James's  words)  :  "that  which  is  good  for  them  to  believe."  (A  prac- 
tical application  of  the  system  of  two  truths  to  literature  is  found  in  Appen- 
dix B:  "Literature  and  the  Moral  Code.") 


ALLGEMEINE  GESCHICHTE  DER  PHILOSOPHIE.    Von  Dr.  Paul  Deussen.    Vol.  II, 

Part  3.  Leipsic:  F.  A.  Brockhaus.  1908.  Pp.  728.  Price  M.  18. 
We  have  now  before  us  the  third  part  of  the  first  volume  of  this  great 
work  on  the  "General  History  of  Philosophy"  written  with  particular  reference 
to  religion.  The  whole  of  the  first  volume  is  devoted  entirely  to  the  history 
of  India,  and  this  division  treats  of  the  post-Vedic  philosophy  of  the  Hindus. 
It  contains  also  an  appendix  to  the  philosophy  of  the  Chinese  and  Japanese. 
In  this  appendix  the  author  discusses  China  in  general,  giving  a  particular 
chapter  each  to  Confucius  and  Lao  Tze,  following  with  a  history  of  the  devel- 
opment of  Chinese  philosophy  and  its  three  religions.  He  passes  rapidly  over 
ancient  Japan  and  Shinto,  Buddhism  in  Japan,  and  neo-Confucianism.  The 
"Post-Vedic  Philosophy"  as  a  whole  discusses  first  the  philosophy  of  the  epic 
period  of  India,  then  Buddhism,  and  finally  the  various  minor  philosophical 
systems  of  India. 


RECREATIONS  MATHEMATIQUES,  et  Problemes  des  temps  anciens  et  modernes. 
By  W.  Rouse  Ball.  Paris :  A.  Hermann,  1907.  2  vol.  Price,  5  fr.  each. 
It  is  only  one  additional  tribute  to  the  well-known  value  of  W.  Rouse 
Ball's  Mathematical  Recreations  that  a  second  edition  of  its  French  translation 
has  appeared.  This  translation  was  made  from  the  fourth  English  edition  and 
has  been  somewhat  enlarged  by  the  translator,  J.  Fitz-Patrick.  The  final 
addition  is  a  note  by  the  publisher,  Mr.  A.  Hermann,  on  the  "Accounts  of  a 
person  who  spends  more  than  his  income;  a  method  for  establishing  a  life 
annuity."  In  this  an  attempt  is  made  to  show  how  three  common  difficulties 
may  be  conciliated,  that  is  to  say  how  the  income  may  be  increased  while  care 
must  be  taken  not  to  deprive  the  heirs  in  case  of  premature  death,  and  at  the 
same  time  to  safeguard  a  sufficient  income  in  case  a  long  life  is  attained. 

ABRISS  DER  ALGEBRA  DER  LOGIK.    Von  Dr.  Eugen  Muller.    Part  I.    Complete 

in  three  parts.    Leipsic:  Teubner,  1909. 

Since  Boole  wrote  his  learned  book  on  The  Laws  of  Thought  a  new 
science  has  originated  which  lies  on  the  borderland  of  mathematics  and  logic, 
and  contains  the  most  abstract  thought.  The  most  prominent  thinker  in 


THE  MONIST. 

modern  times  who  has  built  up  this  new  realm  is  the  late  Dr.  Ernst  Schroeder, 
professor  of  mathematics  at  the  Polytechnic  school  at  Karlsruhe  in  Baden. 
He  wrote  a  voluminous  book  on  The  Algebra  of  Logic  and  his  main  rival  in 
this  field  of  most  abstract  thought  is  the  American  scholar  Charles  S.  Peirce, 
who  uses  the  term  "the  logic  of  relatives."  Since  Professor  Schroeder's 
death,  Dr.  Eugen  Miiller  of  Constance  has  been  in  charge  of  his  manuscripts, 
and  he  has  undertaken  to  condense  the  great  work  of  Schroeder  into  small 
compass  so  as  to  make  the  main  principles  of  the  new  science  accessible  to 
those  who  would  not  have  the  time  to  wade  through  the  books  of  Boole  and 
of  Schroeder.  He  condenses  Schroeder's  Algebra  of  Logic  into  about  150 
pages,  which  is  to  appear  in  three  installments,  the  first  of  which,  comprising 
50  pages  lies  now  before  us. 


THE  NEW  SCHAFF  HERZOG  ENCYCLOPEDIA  OF  RELIGIOUS  KNOWLEDGE.  Edited 
by  Samuel  Macauley  Jackson,  DD.,  LL.D.  (Editor  in  Chief),  Charles 
C.  Sherman,  Geo.  W.  Gilmore,  and  others.  Vol.  Ill,  Chamier — Draen- 
dorf.  New  York:  Funk  &  Wagnalls,  1908-1909.  Pp.  500.  Price,  per 
vol.,  cloth  $5.00;  per  set  $60  to  $108. 

We  are  glad  to  welcome  the  third  volume  of  this  valuable  work.  It  is  the 
expectation  of  the  publishers  to  continue  issuing  a  new  volume  from  the  press 
every  three  months  until  the  work  shall  be  complete  in  twelve  volumes.  The 
present  volume  is  of  very  especial  interest  as  will  be  clear  to  any  one  who  con- 
siders the  possibilities  of  the  initial  letter  C.  Charlemagne,  Christ,  Christian, 
Christology,  Church,  Confession,  Confirmation,  Constantine,  Councils,  Crea- 
tion, Creed,  Cross,  Crucifixion  and  Crusades  are  a  few  suggestive  titles,  bring- 
ing many  others  in  their  train,  and  all  are  treated  with  the  same  special 
thoroughness  that  characterizes  the  management  of  the  work  as  a  whole. 
The  usual  bibliographies  are  supplied  at  the  end  of  each  item  and  the  volume 
contains  a  supplemental  bibliographical  appendix  which  brings  the  list  of  books 
covering  the  topics  from  Vol.  I  to  the  end  of  Vol.  II  down  to  January,  1909, 
thus  placing  the  latest  published  information  available  at  the  disposal  of  the 
reader. 


THE  PLACE  OF  ANIMALS  IN  HUMAN  THOUGHT.  By  Countess  Evelyn  Mar- 
tinengo  Cesaresco.  London:  Fisher  Unwin,  1909.  Pp.  376.  Price,  I2s. 
6d.  net. 

To  the  lover  of  animals  this  book  will  open  up  a  new  field  of  interest. 
It  is  the  result  of  the  thought  and  investigation  of  several  years  on  the  part 
of  the  author,  to  whom  the  study  and  compilation  has  been  a  labor  of  love. 
A  suggestion  of  Count  Goblet  d'Alviella  at  the  Oxford  Congress  of  the  His- 
tory of  Religions  last  September,  to  the  effect  that  the  psychology  of  animals 
might  have  some  bearing  on  the  science  of  religions,  confirmed  Countess 
Martinengo-Cesaresco  in  her  belief  in  the  importance  of  animal  psychology. 
Her  discussion  treats  of  the  views  of  the  various  nations  of  the  earth  on  the 
subject,  under  the  following  headings:  Soul- Wandering  as  It  Concerns  Ani- 
mals, The  Greek  Conception  of  Animals,  Animals  at  Rome,  Plutarch  the 
Humane,  Man  and  His  Brother,  The  Faith  of  Iran,  Zoroastrian  Zoology,  A 
Religion  of  Ruth,  Lines  from  the  Adi  Granth,  The  Hebrew  Conception  of 
Animals,  "A  People  Like  Unto  You,"  The  Friend  of  the  Creature,  Versi- 


BOOK  REVIEWS  AND  NOTES.  477 

pelles,  The  Horse  as  Hero,  Animals  in  Eastern  Fiction,  The  Growth  of  Mod- 
ern Ideas  About  Animals. 

A  valuable  feature  of  the  work  consists  in  the  illustrations  which  have 
been  gleaned  from  widely  divergent  and  often  recondite  sources,  and  repre- 
sent Egyptian,  Assyrian,  Grecian,  Roman,  Iranian,  Arabian,  Hebrew,  Bud- 
dhistic and  also  prehistoric  conceptions  of  animals.  Orpheus  and  St.  Francis 
are  of  course  named  among  "The  Friends  of  the  Creature,"  and  Hubert  Van 
Eyck's  painting  of  St.  Jerome  extracting  a  thorn  from  the  paw  of  a  lion  is 
one  of  the  interesting  illustrations  reproduced.  The  frontispiece  to  the  volume 
is  a  photogravure  from  a  tempera  painting  from  Abul  Fazl's  Akbar  Namah, 
now  in  the  India  Museum,  and  represents  the  Emperor  Akbar  personally 
directing  the  tying-up  of  a  wild  elephant.  Unfortunately  a  cursory  search 
does  not  reveal  in  the  text  any  mention  of  Akbar's  clemency  and  fondness 
for  animals  and  his  efforts  to  improve  the  various  breeds,  especially  of  horses 
and  elephants.  A  similar  incident  to  the  one  illustrated  in  Countess  Marti- 
nengo-Cesaresco's  frontispiece  is  graphically  described  in  Dr.  Richard  von 
Garbe's  Akbar,  Emperor  of  India,  reprinted  in  pamphlet  form  from  The 
Monist  of  April,  1909. 


L'ANN£E  BIOLOGIQUE.  Comptes  rendus  annuels  des  travaux  de  biologic  gene- 
rale.  Publics  sous  la  direction  dc  Yves  Delage.  lome  annee,  1905.  Paris : 
Le  Soudier,  1908.  Pp.  500. 

This  important  annual  has  changed  its  arrangement  to  some  extent  with 
this  issue,  in  so  far  as  its  editors  have  thought  best  to  omit  the  general  re- 
view, more  or  less  extensive,  which  has  customarily  preceded  the  volume  as  a 
whole,  and  they  now  limit  themselves  to"  a  short  notice  indicating  certain 
main  points  upon  which  biologists  are  concentrating  their  attention,  and  the 
principal  works  that  bear  upon  these  subjects.  In  its  table  of  contents  this 
volume  gives  a  list  of  the  "general  reviews"  included  in  all  the  preceding 
numbers. 


AIDS  TO  WORSHIP.  By  Malcolm  Quin.  Newcastle-On-Tyne :  T.  M.  Grierson. 
Pp.  182.  Price,  One  Shilling  net. 

The  secondary  title  "An  Essay  Towards  the  Positive  Preservation  and 
Development  of  Catholicism"  is  somewhat  equivocal  since  it  does  not  also 
define  the  author's  point  of  view  with  regard  to  Catholicism.  He  states  more 
clearly  in  the  preface  that  he  might  have  described  the  work  as  "An  Essay 
on  the  Religious  Interpretation  of  Auguste  Comte"  which  would  certainly 
have  defined  the  scope  and  purpose  of  the  work  much  more  definitely,  and 
would  have  been  a  guide  to  the  reader  as  to  the  direction  in  which  his  further 
perusal  of  the  book  would  lead  him.  A  third  of  the  volume  is  devoted  to  the 
introduction,  and  the  "Aids"  themselves  have  for  a  motto  the  verse,  "Ye 
therefore  shall  be  perfect  as  your  Heavenly  Father  is  perfect." 

The  book  is  really  a  manual  of  study  and  religious  training  for  the 
Positivistic  Religion  of  Humanity,  founded  by  Comte,  and  the  different  sub- 
jects treated  are  discussed  in  terse  dogmatic  paragraphs  with  marginal  head- 
ings, such  as  The  Purpose  of  Worship,  Perfection  and  Goodness,  The  Perfect 
Being,  The  Mystery  of  Evil,  The  Mystery  of  Human  Freedom,  The  Humanity 
of  God,  The  Paternity  of  God,  God  the  Son,  The  Christ  of  Worship,  The 


THE  MONIST. 

Inheritance  of  Religious  Speech,  the  Commemoration  of  Christ,  The  Divine 
Presence  in  the  Eucharist,  Commemoration  of  non-Christian  humanity,  The 
Universal  Scriptures,  Worship  a  Good  in  Itself,  and  many  other  similar  top- 
ics. The  same  author  has  published  a  book  of  Offices  of  Public  Worship  for 
congregations  of  the  Religion  of  Humanity. 


DER  SKEPTIZISMUS  IN  DER  PHILOSOPHIE  UND  SEINE  UEBERWINDUNG.  Von  Raoul 
Richter.  Leipsic :  Diirr,  1908.  Pp.  584,  Price,  8  m.  50. 

Now  we  have  the  second  volume  of  this  exhaustive  work  of  Professor 
Richter,  and  this  volume  comprises  the  second,  third,  and  fourth  parts  of  the 
first  book.  The  study  of  skepticism  is  taken  up  chronologically,  beginning  with 
the  period  of  the  Renaissance,  which  represents  naturalistic  skepticism,  the 
most  conspicuous  exponents  of  which  are  Montaigne  and  Charron;  then  fol- 
lows the  empirical  skepticism  of  the  i8th  century  and  a  discussion  of  the 
relation  between  modern  philosophy  and  skepticism  from  Bacon  to  Leibnitz, 
including  Descartes,  Spinoza,  Locke  and  Berkeley  and  giving  special  attention 
to  an  exposition  and  critique  of  the  skepticism  of  Hume. 

The  fourth  part  discusses  the  biological  skepticism  of  the  iQth  century, 
first  from  Hume  to  Hegel,  including  a  section  on  positivism,  followed  by  a 
chapter  on  the  life  and  teachings  of  Nietzsche.  The  first  book  treats  of  total 
skepticism  (der  totale  Skeptizismus).  The  second  book  is  announced  at  the 
end  of  this  volume  and  will  treat  of  Der  partielle  Skeptizismus. 


SOCIOLOGDE  DE  FACTION.     Par  Eugene  de  Roberty.     Paris:  Alcan,  1908.     Pp. 

355.    Price,  7  fr.  50. 

The  latest  contribution  of  Professor  De  Roberty's  many  works  on  sociol- 
ogy is  the  present  discussion  of  the  sociology  of  action,  which  he  treats  in  two 
divisions;  first  the  social  genesis  of  reason,  and  second,  the  rational  sources 
of  action.  In  this  volume  he  continues  to  emphasize  his  opposition  to  the 
timidity  and  equivocations  of  contemporaneous  sociological  thought,  which 
was  one  of  his  principal  objects  in  his  former  works  on  the  "Constitution  of 
Ethics"  and  the  "New  Program  of  Sociology."  He  feels  the  necessity  of  this 
very  strongly,  and  he  regards  it  as  a  more  important  fact  in  the  realm  of 
knowledge  than  in  that  of  action,  that  not  to  advance  means  to  retrograde. 


ZUR  WIEDERGEBURT  DES   IDEALISMUS.     Von  Jakob  Schmidt.     Leipsic:   Diirr, 

1908.    Pp.  325.    Price  6  m. 

These  studies  have  grown  out  of  a  struggle  on  behalf  of  idealism  against 
the  modern  idols  of  "psychologism,  historism  and  positivism."  A  few  of  the 
titles  of  the  fifteen  studies  here  included  are  as  follows :  Capitalism  and  Prot- 
estantism; Mediaeval  Character  of  Ecclesiastical  Protestantism;  Theoretical 
Positivism;  Harnack  and  the  Resuscitation  of  Speculative  Inquiry;  Experience 
and  Poetry;  Goethe  and  Antiquity;  Kant  and  Speculative  Mathematics;  The 
Education  of  Women,  and  Classical  Antiquity. 


WITELO,  EIN  PHILOSOPH  UND  NATURFORSCHER  DES  xui.  JAHRHUNDERTS.    Von 

Clemens  Baeumker.    Minister :  Aschendorff,  1908.    Pp.  686.    Price  22  m. 

This  work  is  Part  II  of  the  third  volume  of  "Contributions  to  the  History 

of  Mediaeval  Philosophy,"  and  contains  the  Latin  text  of  Witelo's  Liber  de 


BOOK  REVIEWS  AND  NOTES.  479 

Intelligentiis  together  with  critical  textual  notes.  This  is  followed  by  impor- 
tant philosophical  excerpts  from  the  philosopher's  Perspective!.  Part  II  is  the 
descriptive  and  critical  portion  of  the  work  and  after  a  biographical  chapter 
discusses  Witclo's  smaller  writings  and  the  philosophy  of  the  de  Intelligentiis 
as  well  as  its  place  in  the  history  of  philosophy.  A  short  chapter  is  also  given 
to  the  significance  of  Perspectives  in  the  history  of  philosophy. 


LES  ERREURS  DE  LA  SCIENCE.    Par  L.  C.  E.  Vial.    Paris:  Vial,  1908.    Pp.  450. 

Price,  3  fr.  50. 

This  work  is  an  exposition  of  a  system  of  natural  philosophy  which  at- 
tempts to  unify  all  sciences  by  submitting  them  to  the  mechanical  and  con- 
tradictory principle  of  the  "unit-couple,"  and  to  demonstrate  by  scientific  testi- 
mony the  part  of  man  in  creation,  and  the  bond  which  unites  him  directly  to 
the  Creator,  the  life-principle  and  source  of  life.  The  first  part  deals  in  ques- 
tions of  mechanics  and  its  relation  to  physiology  proceeding  likewise  to  the 
discussion  of  psychological  questions.  The  second  part  deals  with  cosmic 
problems,  defines  the  atom  and  describes  the  mechanism  of  electrolysis  and 
radio-activity.  It  further  discusses  the  nature  of  atmosphere,  water,  and  earth 
and  the  parts  they  play  in  the  author's  cosmogonic  conception. 


COURNOT  ET  LA  RENAISSANCE  DU  PROBABILISME  AU  XIX.  SIECLE.      Par  F.  Mentre. 

Paris :  Riviere,  1908.     Pp.  649.     Price,  12  fr. 

This  work  is  recommended  to  the  interest  of  the  public  both  by  the 
name  of  Cournot  himself  and  the  high  value  of  the  Library  of  Experimental 
Philosophy  to  which  it  belongs.  The  author  here  expounds  the  ruling  ideas 
of  Cournot's  philosophy,  his  theory  of  order  and  chance,  his  "probabilistic" 
method,  his  philosophy  of  the  sciences  and  his  views  on  religion  and  ethics. 
The  attempt  has  also  been  made  to  indicate  the  rise  of  these  ideas  and  to 
characterize  the  range  of  their  influence.  The  book  is  of  a  special  value  be- 
cause Cournot's  works  have  become  inaccessible,  and  this  volume  contains  the 
substance  of  his  investigations. 


Prof.  C.  J.  Ball,  of  Oxford,  has  written  a  most  learned  and  at  the  same 
time  interesting  article  on  "The  Accadian  Affinities  of  Chinese"  in  which  he 
offers  an  irrefutable  proof  that  the  founders  of  the  Babylonian  civilization, 
the  people  of  Sumer  and  Accad,  furnished  the  materials  from  which  the  Chi- 
nese civilization  has  grown.  He  announces  that  his  investigations  will  "con- 
vince the  learned  world  of  the  truth  of  the  theory  that  the  Chinese  writing 
had  a  Western  origin,  and  that  the  Chinese  language  is  the  nearest  living  rep- 
resentative of  the  ancient  Accadian.  Already  in  1871  Edkins  could  assert  the 
probable  consanguinity  of  the  early  Chinese  with  the  'Cushites'  of  Babylonia, 
and  could  state  that  'many  ancient  customs  point  to  a  connection  once  exist- 
ing between  Western  Asia  and  China.'  That  scholar,  in  fact,  assumed,  on  the 
ground  of  resemblance  in  the  principal  elements  of  civilization,  and  alto- 
gether independently  of  the  special  considerations  which  are  submitted  in  this 
paper,  that  the  primitive  Chinese  were  immigrants  from  the  plain  of  the 
Euphrates,  who  entered  their  present  country  some  five  thousand  years  ago.. . 

"Perhaps  the  first  thing  that   strikes  one  in  a  comparison  of  the  two 


480  THE  MONIST. 

languages  is  the  unusual  number  of  common  words.  A  few  coincidences  of 
sound  would,  of  course,  prove  little  or  nothing,  because  such  may  be  found 
in  almost  any  pair  of  languages.  The  old  Chinese  kot,  kut,  is  strangely  like 
not  only  the  Accadian  kud,  but  also  the  English  'cut.'  But  while  we  may 
leave  such  correspondences,  in  cases  where  they  are  few  and  far  between,  to 
the  diviners  of  the  primeval  speech,  we  can  hardly  do  that  in  cases  where 
the  majority  of  words  in  both  languages  can  be  shown  to  be  cognate  or  even 
identical.  Number  eliminates  chance. 

"Again,  no  argument  for  near  kindred  or  identity  can  be  based  solely 
upon  Accadian  terms  like  aba,  ama,  as  compared  with  the  old  Chinese  pa,  ma, 
'father/  'mother';  because  such  sounds  may  be  paralleled  from  a  multitude 
of  tongues  of  every  class  and  kind.  The  case,  however,  is  different  with  such 
similarities  as  exist  between  the  Accadian  sag  (shag),  sag,  'head/  and  the 
Chinese  sheu,  su;  between  Ace.  shem,  shab  (=sham),  shag,  sha,  'heart/  and 
Ch.  saw,,  sang]  between  Ace.  shu,  'hand/  and  Ch.  sheu,  shu.  Not  much  re- 
flection is  necessary  to  see  that  there  must  be  a  real  connection  between  these 
common  words,  and  that  a  fortuitous  likeness  of  this  kind  is  an  improbable 
contingency.  These  coincidences,  however,  amount  to  hundreds,  and  prac- 
tically exhaust  the  available  vocabulary  of  Accadian." 


Volume  IV  of  the  University  of  California  Publications  on  Education  con- 
sists of  the  second  part  of  Milicent  Washburn  Shinn's  Notes  on  the  Development 
of  a  Child,  treating  in  particular  of  "The  Development  of  the  Senses  in  the  First 
Three  Years  of  Children."  The  author's  original  data  came  from  a  journal 
of  the  development  of  a  single  child  closely  observed  by  her  during  the  whole 
period  of  the  record,  but  these  data  have  been  supplemented  by  the  observa- 
tions of  others  which  in  some  points  have  become  the  basis  of  her  conclusions 
more  than  her  own  record,  because  in  these  particulars  her  own  notes  were 
insufficient  or  because  the  facts  had  been  already  so  well  established  that  her 
particular  observations  could  do  little  more  than  corroborate.  Part  One  in- 
vestigates the  "Sensibility  of  the  New  Born"  with  regard  to  each  of  the 
senses;  Part  Two,  the  "Synthesis  of  Sense  Experience";  Part  Three,  "De- 
velopment in  Discrimination  and  Interpretation." 


It  is  customary  at  present  to  analyze  the  psychological  disposition  of  phi- 
losophers, and  religious  leaders,  and  so  a  book  by  Jacob  H.  Kaplan  on  the 
Psychology  of  Prophecy  (Philadelphia:  Julius  H.  Greenstone,  1908),  will  be 
welcome.  It  is  intended  to  be  a  study  "of  the  prophetic  mind  as  manifested 
by  the  ancient  Hebrew  prophets,"  the  author  being  a  Rabbi  who  handles  his 
subject  not  only  scientifically  but  also  with  reverence  and  discretion,  and  this 
makes  the  book  more  valuable. 


Jonas  Cohn,  professor  at  the  University  of  Freiberg,  i.  B.,  who  has  devoted 
much  thought  to  the  solution  of  the  problem  of  infinitude,  discusses  in  his 
recent  book,  Voraussetzungen  und  Ziele  des  Erkennens  (Leipsic:  Engelmann, 
1908),  the  significance  of  logic  as  a  basis  of  all  philosophy.  He  proposes  to 
expose  the  various  fibers  whch  connect  logic  organically  with  the  several  parts 
of  philosophy. 


VOL.  XIX.  OCTOBER,  1909.  No.  4. 


THE  MONIST 


JEAN  JACQUES  ROUSSEAU,  A  FORERUNNER  OF 
PRAGMATISM. 

I  DEFINE  pragmatism  as  a  philosophy  that  judges  of 
the  value  of  theories  and  ideas  from  their  consequences, 
i.  e.,  from  the  practical  results  which  they  yield  to  the 
thinker  when  he  proceeds  to  apply  them  to  reality. 

Pragmatic  results  may  be  understood  as  scientific  re- 
sults ;  but  in  this  case  it  becomes-  obvious  that  pragmatism 
is  only  another  word  for  science,  and  hardly  worth  while 
to  retain  our  attention.  Of  course  we  consider,  and  man 
has  always  considered,  true  or  satisfactory,  a  law  or  an 
idea  which  yields  results,  and  none  else ;  and  if  a  law  or  an 
idea  explains  nothing  or  accounts  for  nothing,  it  is  given 
up.  So  this  scientific  pragmatism  is  not,  cannot  be,  what 
pragmatists  have  in  mind,  for  they  would  not  have  started 
a  new  philosophical  school  to  say  something  that  nobody 
ever  denied,  the  very  thing  and  the  only  thing  which  all  sci- 
entific, philosophical,  theological  minds  have  always  agreed 
upon  since  the  dawn  of  conscious  thinking.  Of  course 
William  James  says,  "a  new  name  for  an  old  thing" ;  still 
we  have  too  high  an  opinion  of  Professor  James  and  others 
who  followed  him  to  believe  that  the  "old  thing"  was  the 
commonplace  truth  which  the  world  has  owned  so  long, 
and  which  science  in  our  epoch  is  applying  so  frantically 
everywhere.  Or  else,  one  might  just  as  well  start  a  new 


482  THE  MONIST. 

system  of  astronomy  to  prove  that  the  sun  shines  at  noon 
and  remains  invisible  at  night. 

There  is  only  one  alternative:  if  pragmatic  results  do 
not  mean  scientific  results,  they  must  mean  practical  results 
from  the  point  of  view  of  "practical  reason"  as  opposed 
to  "pure  reason,"  in  other  words,  ethical  results.  And  if 
this  is  what  pragmatism  means,  then  everybody  will  grant 
that  there  is  something  relatively  new  in  it,  in  so  far  as 
there  was  never  before  so  bold  an  attempt  to  reduce  phi- 
losophy to  moral  philosophy  ;  or,  I  should  rather  say,  that 
never  an  attempt  could  appear  so  bold,  as  we  live  in  a  scien- 
tific era  when  scientific  results  alone  are  strictly  recognized 
by  scholars,  while  ethical  or  esthetic  preoccupations  are 
considered  among  them  as  intruding  elements. 

So  the  whole  quarrel  about  pragmatism  originates  from 
the  vagueness  of  the  word  "result,"  or  "practical  value"  ; 
the  pragmatists  endeavoring  to  make  modern  philosophy 
adopt  ethical  pragmatism  instead  of  scientific  pragmatism  ; 
and  as  they  are  entirely  different  things,  as  they  are  in  fact 
incompatible  things,  scholars  resist  the  attempt.1  With 
this  conception  also  the  word  of  James,  "a  new  name  for 
an  old  thing,"  gets  a  very  satisfactory  meaning;  namely, 
that  man  has  always  been  inclined  to  judge  philosophical 
theories  from  their  ethical  results.  Pragmatism  is  only  the 
philosophy  which  tries  to  establish  this  conception  of  things 
on  a  systematic  basis,  to  justify  this  natural  inclination. 

It  is  of  this  ethical  pragmatism  —  the  only  one  which 
has  a  clear  and  distinct  meaning  —  that  Rousseau  is  a  fore- 


runner.2 


^ee  the  writer's  Anti-pragmatisme  (Paris,  1909)  pp.  26-37. 

'The  words  pragmatisme,  or  pragmatique,  are  of  course  not  to  be  found 
in  Rousseau.  In  Nouvelle  Heloise  (II,  5)  he  speaks  of  Julie's  father  saying:  "Sa 
fille  lui  est  moins  chere  que  la  Pragmatique";  but  here  the  political  act  of 
Charles  VI  of  Austria  is  meant  by  which  (1713)  this  emperor  assured  the 
throne  to  Marie-Therese  as  his  successor. 


ROUSSEAU,  A  FORERUNNER  OF  PRAGMATISM.  483 


I. 

It  might  be  interesting,  and  I  think  very  relevant,  to 
point  out  first  a  remarkable  symmetry  in  the  philosophical 
evolution  of  Rousseau  and  James,  the  latter  being  by  far 
the  chief  representative  of  pragmatism;  there  can  be  no 
doubt  that  without  him  the  movement  would  have  been 
still-born. 

We  observe  that  both  thinkers  came  to  pragmatic  ideas 
after  a  period  of  enthusiasm  for  pure  science.  James  be- 
gan by  studying  natural  sciences;  he  took  an  M.  D.,  and  at 
first  taught  anatomy  at  Harvard  University.  Then  he 
went  over  to  psychology  and  wrote  his  most  famous  work, 
and  finally  he  produced  his  pragmatistic  papers  and  books. 
These  facts  can  be  interpreted  thus :  When  he  began  to  look 
at  things  for  himself  and  reflect  on  them,  James  was  at 
first  interested  in  the  universe  in  a  purely  objective  way;  he 
looked  at  it  as  a  product  which  he  liked  to  study  in  a  per- 
fectly impersonal  manner.  Then,  secondly,  he  saw  that 
the  world  was  still  more  interesting  when  viewed  from  a 
human  standpoint,  from  the  psychological  standpoint — 
moreover  man  cannot  view  it  from  any  other  point  of  view, 
absolute  truth  is  outside  of  our  means  of  perception;  then 
he  wrote  his  great  work,  Psychology.  And  third  he  came 
to  the  conclusion  that  man  had  an  interest  in  the  world  not 
only  from  a  human,  in  the  sense  of  a  psychological,  stand- 
point, but  from  an  ethical,  or  may  be  religious  standpoint, 
as  well.  Man  does  not  only  study  life,  he  lives  it,  he  has  a 
practical  interest  in  it ;  then  he  wrote  Pragmatism. 

Rousseau's  philosophical  evolution  describes  exactly  the 
same  curve.  Everybody  remembers  in  the  Confessions 
what  he  tells  of  his  reading  in  mathematics,  physics,  chem- 
istry and  so  forth,  when  living  with  Madame  de  Warens  ;3 

8  See  especially  Book  VI.  Cf.  also  Ritter :  Famille  et  jeunesse  de  J.  f. 
Rousseau,  pp.  219  ff. 


484  THE  MONIST. 

and  especially  the  delightful  scene  when  he  is  accused  of 
necromancy  by  passers-by  who  see  him  in  a  garden  at  mid- 
night studying  astronomy  in  grotesque  attire,  moving  a 
telescope  backward  and  forward  with  mysterious  gestures, 
and  stretched  out  before,  or  rather  under,  a  map  of  the  sky 
illuminated  by  the  weird  light  of  a  candle  standing  in  a 
flower  pot;4  or  the  account  of  how  he  nearly  blinded  him- 
self for  life  by  careless  handling  of  chemical  substances  in 
an  unfortunate  attempt  to  manufacture  "encre  de  sympa- 
thie"?  or  again  when  he  tells  himself  so  charmingly  (al- 
ways in  the  Confessions)  that  his  famous  polype  au  coeur 
which  disappeared  so  miraculously  before  he  came  near 
the  doctor,  when  a  pretty  woman  appeared  on  the  scene,6 
was  nothing  but  the  result  of  overstudy  of  books  on  anat- 
omy, physiology  and  medicine ;  for,  like  the  famous  Dutch 
physician  he  could  not  read  the  description  of  a  disease 
without  at  once  feeling  perfectly  satisfied  that  he  was  suf- 
fering from  it.  Finally  I  need  not  insist  on  Rousseau's 
fondness  for  botany  which  first  developed  at  that  period 
also.7 

Rousseau  did  not  teach  sciences,  as  Professor  James, 
but  he  made  use  of  his  knowledge  in  mathematics  as 
a  member  of  the  staff  entrusted  by  Charles  Emanuel 
III  with  the  survey  of  the  kingdom  of  Savoy.  He  also 
wrote  in  Chambery  in  1738,  and  published  in  the  Mercure 
de  France  of  July,  a  "Meinoire  sur  la  sphericite  de  la  terre." 
Better  still,  Rousseau  wrote  in  Paris,  probably  about  1747, 
a  treatise  on  chemistry  in  four  parts,  Les  institutions  chy- 
miques,  the  manuscripts  of  which  can  be  seen  since  1904 
at  the  city  library  in  Geneva. 

*  (Euvres,  VIII,  171-2. 

5  (Euvres,  VIII,  155.    That  the  rumor  spread  of  Rousseau's  experiments, 
see  Ritter,  Famille  et  jeunesse  de  J.  J.  Rousseau  (1896),  p.  221. 

6  (Euvres,  VIII,  pp.  177-8:  ". .  .Voila  Mme.  de  Larnage  qui  m'entreprend ; 
et  adieu  le  pauvre  Jean- Jacques,  ou  plutot  adieu  le  fievre,  les  vapeurs,  le  po- 
lype...." 

7  (Euvres,  VIII,  p.  128. 


ROUSSEAU,  A  FORERUNNER  OF  PRAGMATISM.  485 

II. 

The  second  period  of  Rousseau's  philosophical  develop- 
ment corresponds  to  that  in  which  James  wrote  his  Psy- 
chology. Now,  we  must  remember  that  in  his  book  James 
has  given  up  the  traditional  treatment  of  the  three  facul- 
ties, sentiment,  intelligence,  will.  He  offers  a  sort  of  nat- 
ural history  of  our  mental  faculties  in  connection  with,  or 
even  taking  as  a  basis,  our  sensations,  hence  the  name  of 
"experimental"  or  "physiological"  psychology  given  to  the 
modern  science  we  all  know. 

This  conception  of  things  goes  naturally  as  far  back 
as  the  1 8th  century,  to  Locke's  Essay  on  Human  Under- 
standing. Indeed  we  can  almost  say  that  the  works  of  our 
great  thinkers  of  the  iQth  century,  like  John  Stuart  Mill 
in  his  Logic,  Taine  in  his  Intelligence,  Wundt,  Spencer, 
James  in  their  Psychologies,  are  but  new  additions,  broader 
in  some  places,  more  consistent  in  others,  of  Locke's  epoch- 
making  book.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  nobody  ever  went  so 
far  in  the  direction  of  sensualism  and  materialism  as  does 
James  in  his  well-known  theory  of  emotions,  according  to 
which  we  do  not  weep  because  we  are  sad,  but  we  are  sad 
because  we  weep,  the  physical  phenomenon  not  being  the 
effect  of  the  psychical  one,  but  rather  the  reverse. 

Rousseau,  thanks  in  great  part  no  doubt  to  his  unsys- 
tematic education,  was  endowed  with  a  very  unprejudiced 
mind,  and  he  did  not  hesitate  to  adopt  those  views  which 
were  held  at  the  time  only  by  a  few  progressive  men; 
Locke's  ideas  on  this  particular  subject  soon  became  his 
own,8  and  we  can  easily  see  how  they  came  to  him.  He  tells 
us  in  the  Confessions  that  in  the  years  after  his  return  from 
Venice  to  Paris  (1744)  he  had  become  a  great  friend  of 

8  He  had  already  studied  Locke  at  the  Charmettes.  See  CEuvres,  VIII,  p. 
169. 


486  THE  MONIST 

Condillac,  then  writing  his  famous  books.9  He  calls  him 
once  "un  tres  grand  metaphysicien."10  Although  Rousseau 
never  went  as  far  as  Condillac  in  the  latter's  Traite  des 
sensations  (1754),  namely  that  the  only  origin  of  all  our 
ideas  is  sensation  alone,  he  shared  entirely  the  views  of  the 
earlier  Essai  sur  I'origine  des  connaissances  humaines 
(1746),  that  there  are  no  innate  ideas  and  that  our  ideas, 
due  to  reflection,  would  never  have  developed  without  sen- 
sation— the  Locke  point  of  view.  Rousseau  remained  true 
to  those  beliefs  in  the  time  of  his  mature  philosophy;  in 
Emile11  for  instance,  and  in  the  much  later  Dialogues12  we 
find  them  again  only  slightly  transformed.  It  would  be 
quite  interesting  to  point  out  the  influence  of  those  physio- 
logical-psychological views  on  Rousseau  in  several  special 
works,  especially  in  the  Essai  sur  I'origine  des  langues, 
which  was  written  under  the  inspiration  of  Condillac's 
ideas  ;18  and  in  a  book  which  has  not  been  printed,  the  man- 
uscript of  it  being  probably  lost  for  ever,  La  morale  sensi- 
tive ou  le  materialisme  du  sage. 

Students  of  Rousseau,  generally,  ignore  this  work  en- 
tirely, and  it  is  pardonable  as  long  as  it  is  lost.  But  a  great 
loss  indeed  it  is,  for  surely  no  work  could  have  given  us 
a  better  insight  into  Rousseau's  real  mind,  precisely  be- 
cause it  belongs  to  a  period  of  transition,  when  he  is  not 
yet  completely  the  Rousseau  of  the  Nouvelle  Helo'ise  or  of 
Emile.  We  would  have  seen  there  how  he  became  the 
later  Rousseau,  while  now  we  have  to  guess  more  or  less. 
Fortunately  the  little  bit  we  know  about  the  book,  we  owe 

*  (Euvres,  VIII,  p.  246.  Rousseau  places  this  in  the  years  1747-49,  but  this 
must  be  a  mistake  since  the  book  of  Condillac  mentioned  by  Rousseau  was 
published  in  1746. 

10  (Euvres,  XII,  p.  304 ;  cf.  II,  75. 

11  See  Books  I,  II,  III,  (Euvres,  II,  e.  g.,  pp.  32-33,  102,  188  etc. 
18  (Euvres,  IX,  196. 

18  Cf.  (Euvres,  I,  p.  93. 


ROUSSEAU,  A  FORERUNNER  OF  PRAGMATISM.  487 

to  Rousseau  himself,  and  so  the  information  may  be  relied 
upon.14 

What  was  this  book  ?  Rousseau  tells  us  that  among  the 
works  he  intended  to  write — and  which  later  were  given 
up — there  was  one  which  he  hoped  would  prove  truly  use- 
ful to  men.  "We  have  noticed  that  in  the  course  of  their 
lives  most  men  are  unlike  themselves  and  seem  to  be 
changed  into  beings  entirely  different.  It  was  not  indeed 
to  prove  so  well  known  a  thing  that  I  proposed  to  write  a 
book ;  I  had  a  more  important  and  newer  purpose.  It  was 
to  find  out  about  the  causes  of  those  variations,  and  to 
study  those  which  are  dependent  on  us  in  order  to  show 
how  they  could  be  directed  by  ourselves  in  order  to  render 
us  better  and  exert  more  control  over  our  actions. ...  In 
probing  myself,  and  in  examining  others  as  to  the  causes 
of  those  different  dispositions  I  found  that  they  depended 
in  great  part,  on  the  preceding  impressions  of  exterior  ob- 
jects, and  that,  modified  constantly  by  our  senses  and  by 
our  organs,  we  were  feeling,  without  knowing  it,  in  our 
ideas,  in  our  sentiments,  in  our  actions  even,  the  effect  of 
those  modifications.  The  striking  and  numerous  observa- 
tions which  I  had  gathered  were  beyond  discussion;  and 
by  their  physical  principles,  they  seemed  to  me  fit  to  pro- 
vide us  with  a  physical  regime  which,  adapted  to  circum- 
stances, could  place  our  souls  in  the  conditions  most  favor- 
able to  virtue ....  Climates,  seasons,  sounds,  colors,  dark- 
ness, light,  elements  [?],  food,  noise,  silence,  motion,  rest, 
everything  acts  on  our  machine,  and  on  our  soul  conse- 
quently  I  have  however,  worked  little  over  that  book, 

the  title  of  which  was  La  morale  sensitive  ou  le  materia- 
lisme  du  sage.  Distractions  which  I  shall  soon  explain 
prevented  me  from  devoting  much  time  to  it,  and  the 

"There  is  an  interesting  problem  of  erudition  in  connection  with  the 
Morale  sensitive;  but  the  discussion  of  it  belongs  rather  in  a  review  for  the 
history  of  literature.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  further  information  about  the  book 
is  not  attainable,  at  least  now,  and  that  all  that  is  reliable  goes  back  to  what 
Rousseau  says  himself  in  the  Confessions. 


488  THE  MONIST. 

reader  will  know  also  what  has  become  of  my  first  draft...." 
This  passage  is  from  the  ninth  book  of  the  Confessions 
(pp.  292-3).  In  book  twelve  (pp.  46-7)  he  tells  of  all  sorts 
of  papers  that  were  stolen  from  the  things  he  had  left  in 
care  of  Madame  de  Luxembourg  at  the  time  of  his  hasty 
flight  to  Switzerland,  when  the  Emile  had  been  condemned. 
Among  the  stolen  papers  was  the  manuscript  of  the  Morale 
sensitive,  and  Rousseau  suspects  D'Alembert,  who,  as  a 
friend  of  Madame  de  Luxembourg  may  have  succeeded 
in  seeing  those  manuscripts,  perhaps  by  bribing  some  ser- 
vant.15 At  that  time  Rousseau  considered  D'Alembert  as 
one  of  his  worst  enemies,  and  comments  thus :  "I  suppose 
that,  deceived  by  the  title  of  La  morale  sensitive,  he  thought 
he  had  discovered  the  outline  of  a  real  treatise  of  material- 
ism, from  which  he  would  have  taken  an  advantage  against 
me  that  one  might  well  imagine."16 

One  may  well  ask  why  Rousseau  did  not  take  up  his 
work  again.  I  think  we  can  guess  that,  and  the  very  note 
we  have  just  quoted  about  D'Alembert  could  suggest  a 
clue.  Such  a  book  was  not  only  difficult  to  write,  it  might 
prove  positively  dangerous.  For  in  conveying  upon  people 
the  materialistic  idea  that  the  dispositions  of  our  "soul" 
depended  ultimately  so  much  upon  physical  sensations,  as 
comparatively  very  few  (if  any)  of  those  are  actually 
within  our  control,  people  might  take  that  as  an  excuse  for 
not  reacting  against  the  lower  impulses  of  the  flesh.  Thus 
the  book  could  be  interpreted  as  an  excuse  for  our  weak- 
nesses, instead  of  a  remedy  against  them,  and  so  would 
provide  arms  to  the  enemy,  and  throw  one's  own  away. 

"In  a  note  (Vol.  XII,  p.  47)  Rousseau  explains  that  D'Alembert  had 
plagiarized  many  of  his  articles  before  they  were  printed  in  the  Encyclopedic 
(for  the  Siemens  de  musique). 

"One  feels  inclined  to  reject  such  ungenerous  suspicions.  Still,  after  the 
book  of  Mrs.  Macdonald  which  shows  how  really  shamefully  Rousseau  was 
treated  by  some  of  his  contemporaries,  there  is  a  possibility  of  truth.  So,  if 
we  should  ever  get  some  parts  of  the  Morale  sensitive  back,  it  might  be  in 
looking  into  D'Alembert.  The  search  may  be  worth  while— the  writer  not 
having  at  hand  the  books  necessary  for  such  an  inquiry  is  obliged  to  confine 
himself  to  these  indications. 


ROUSSEAU,  A  FORERUNNER  OF  PRAGMATISM.  489 

M  adame  de  Genlis  would  certainly  not  have  been  the  only 
one  to  gather  from  Rousseau's  notes  the  impression  which 
Rousseau  himself  thought  might  be  D'Alembert's.  She 
reflects :  "I  never  thought  that  virtue  depended  upon  good 
digestion  or  on  the  temperature  of  the  air,  or  that  certain 
drinks  could  cure  bad  inclinations,  and  that  it  was  possible 
to  absorb  morality,  like  tea,  by  infusion/'17 

The  insurmountable  difficulty  is,  of  course,  that  there 
is  absolutely  no  criterion  to  decide  where  to  stop  in  ad- 
mitting that  physical  conditions  are  responsible  for  our 
morality.  You  cannot  at  one  moment  step  in  and  say: 
"Now  I  will  be  virtuous"  without  throwing  over  the  whole 
theory.  For,  this  sudden  disposition  depends  precisely  upon 
foregoing  dispositions,  and  those  form  an  endless  chain. 
Suppose  a  meal  is  so  made  up  as  not  to  develop  my  lower 
passions;  either  I  am  responsible  for  the  meal  or  another 
is.  If  another  is,  then  it  is  clear  that  my  temper  is  not  in 
my  own  hands.  If  I  am,  then  I  must  have  been  predisposed 
well  in  order  to  order  the  virtuous  meal;  so  from  antece- 
dent to  antecedent,  we  are  bound  to  come  to  admit  that  we 
are  no  longer  responsible  for  anything.  The  same  holds 

of  climate,  wind,  rest,  noise,  etc What  can  I  do?  There 

is  no  middle  term :  we  are  or  we  are  not  in  control.  You 
may  leave  the  subject  alone  altogether, — which  is  very  wise 
perhaps, — but  if  you  take  it  up,  then  you  must  be  logical. 

Rousseau  chose  to  say  that  the  dispositions  of  our  soul 
depend  upon  material  conditions ;  the  result  is  that  he  will 
tell  us  very  interesting  facts  probably,  but  surely  none  very 
favorable  to  moralization.  And  the  time  came  when  he 
saw  it  himself,  and  therefore  he  dropped  the  book.  I  ven- 
ture to  say  that  if  he  had  written  it,  he  would  have  torn  it 
to  pieces  afterwards.18  The  time  when  he  was  thinking 

17  Preface  a  Alphonsine,  p.  iii. 

18  The  book  Rousseau  had  in  mind  has  been  written ;  but  a  century  later. 
Those  who  are  interested  to  see  what  a  consistent  treatise  of  the  sort  may  be- 


49°  THE  MONIST. 

of  writing  it  indicates  a  period  of  unconscious  hesitation 
between  the  scientific  or  psychological  point  of  view,  and 
the  ethical  or  pragmatic.  He  was  then  just  where  James 
stood  when  he  printed  his  Psychology,  and  which  after  a 
long  discussion  of  the  book  is  expressed  for  the  French 
public  by  Marillier  in  the  following  terms :  "The  teleolog- 
ical  character  of  the  system  is  at  first  striking,  and  one 
must  penetrate  beyond  the  literal  sense  to  notice  that  very 
often  it  is  a  selection  of  a  mechanical  character  much  rather 
than  of  an  intentional  choice  that  is  meant.  This  W.  James 
says  clearly  nowhere ;  perhaps  not  because  he  is  not  decided 
yet  which  one  of  the  two  conceptions  he  will  make  his  own, 
but  because  he  constantly  goes  from  the  one  to  the  other 
without  admitting  it  plainly/'  (Revue  philosophique ,  Feb., 
1893,  p.  182,) 

in. 

James  finally  decided  for  a  teleological  system,  or  what 
is  now  often  called — a  new  name  for  an  old  thing — prag- 
matism. I  have  shown  elsewhere,  in  quoting  texts,  how 
pragmatic  utterances  had  meant  at  first  for  James  simply 
a  set  of  rules  for  practical  life,  independent  and  really  out- 
side of  philosophy,  and  how  only  gradually  the  idea  came 
to  him  of  introducing  those  merely  practical  advices  into 
philosophy  itself,  and  trying  to  subordinate  intellectual  and 
scientific  principles  to  practical  principles.19  The  result  is 
that  his  philosophy  now,  pragmatic  philosophy,  is  described 
by  James  himself  in  such  sentences  as :  "The  'true,'  to  put 
it  very  briefly,  is  only  the  expedient  in  the  way  of  our 
thinking,  just  as  the  'right'  is  only  the  expedient  in  the  way 
of  our  behaving."  (Pragmatism,  p.  222)  ;20  or  "On  prag- 

come  ought  to  read:  Yves  Guyot,  La  morale,  Paris,  1883  (in  the  collection 
Bibtiotheque  materialiste} . 

"  A.  Schinz,  Anti-pragmatisme,  Paris,  1909,  pp.  52-54- 

"What  James  says  regarding  this  passage  in  the  Journal  of  Philosophy 
of  December,  1908,  does  not  affect  the  case  very  much. 


ROUSSEAU,  A  FORERUNNER  OF  PRAGMATISM.  49 1 

matic  principles  we  cannot  reject  any  hypothesis  if  con- 
sequences useful  to  life  flow  from  it.  . .  .They  [universal 
conceptions]  have.  . .  .no  meaning  and  no  reality  if  they 
have  no  use.  But  if  they  have  any  use,  they  have  that 
amount  of  meaning."  (Ibid.,  p.  273.)  (Of  course  we 
must  understand  that  in  the  second  part  of  the  quotation, 
James  means  also  "useful  to  life''  as  nothing  indicates 
any  change  to  "useful"  in  a  merely  scientific  sense)  ;  or  let 
us  recall  the  pragmatic  "question" :  "Grant  an  idea  or  be- 
lief to  be  true,  what  concrete  difference  will  its  being  true 
make  in  any  one's  actual  life?"  (Ibid.,  p.  200.)  This  is 
plainly  making  philosophy  a  servant  to  ethics.  Philosophic, 
ancilla  theologiae  was  the  definition  of  scholasticism ;  Phi- 
losophia  ancilla  ethicae  is  the  definition  of  pragmatism. 

Now  let  us  see  Rousseau  reaching  the  same  goal. 

Exactly  parallel  to  James's  phrase:  "On  pragmatic 
principles,  we  cannot  reject  any  hypothesis  if  consequences 
useful  to  life  flow  from  it,"  is  Rousseau's  declaration  at 
the  end  of  his  career,  when  he  summarizes  his  philosophical 
and  literary  creed,  and  writes,  speaking  of  himself  (Sec- 
ond Dialogue21) :  "I  have  never  seen  him  listen  calmly  to 
any  theory  that  he  believed  harmful  to  the  public  weal."  (  Je 
ne  1'ai  jamais  vu  ecouter  de  sang  froid  toute  doctrine  qu'il 
crut  nuisible  au  bien  public). 

As  was  to  be  the  case  with  William  James  one  century 
and  a  half  later,  Rousseau  had  really  never  committed  him- 
self to  a  mechanical  conception  of  life ;  he  had  only,  for  a 
while,  used  such  language  and  studied  problems  in  such  a 
fashion  that  readers  could  hesitate  as  to  his  real  opinion 
on  those  questions.  So  when  he  had  once  decided  to  pub- 
licly take  a  stand  against  such  mechanical  theories  of  life, 
he  felt  like  dispelling  any  uncertainty  in  the  public,  and 
missed  few  occasions  to  come  out  openly  against  the  mate- 
rialism of  his  epoch.  He  did  so  repeatedly  in  his  best-known 

81  CEuvres,  IX,  p.  194. 


492  THE  MONIST. 

works.  Let  us  take  only  one  example,  which  is  not  so  well 
known. 

In  1758  he  wanted  to  write  a  complete  and  systematic 
refutation  of  Helvetius's  book  De  I'  esprit.  He  finally  gave 
it  up,  because  the  work  in  question  was  condemned  by  the 
censor  shortly  after  its  publication  and  the  sale  of  it  was 
prohibited.22  But  we  have  the  marginal  notes  put  by  Rous- 
seau to  his  edition  of  Helvetius's  book,  and  they  give  us  a 
very  clear  idea  of  what  Rousseau  wanted  to  prove.  They  are 
published  in  the  (Euvres  completes,  XII,  pp.  296-304.  Hel- 
vetius  maintained  that  man  is  merely  passive  in  his  judg- 
ments, in  his  sentiments  and  actions.  This  irritated  Rous- 
seau and  he  refers  finally  to  a  refutation  in  the  Profession 
de  foi  du  Vic  air  e  Savoyard.™ 

To  Helvetius  who  thinks  that  two  (passive)  faculties, 
sensation  and  memory,  are  sufficient  to  account  for  our 
whole  mental  activity,  and  that  comparer  and  juger  are 
merely  other  forms  of  sensation,  Rousseau  opposes  that, 
already  in  comparison  due  to  memory  there  is  something 
more  than  mere  passive  sensation  of  difference  ;  and  as  to 
the  distinction  between  sensation  and  judgment,  he  ex- 
presses it  thus:24  "To  perceive  objects  is  sensation;  to  per- 
ceive relations  is  judgment"  (Apercevoir  les  objets  c'est 
sentir,  apercevoir  les  rapports  c'est  juger). 

The  whole  discussion  is  summed  up  and  concluded  in 
tht  Profession  de  foi  du  Vicaire  Savoyard  as  follows  :  "Thus 

*  (Euvres,  III,  122. 

*  There  is  here  again  a  small  problem  of  erudition.    We  must  believe  that 
the  notes  on  De  I'  esprit  are  made  on  the  first  edition,  as  Rousseau  expressly 
states  it  in  a  letter  (cf.  (Euvres,  Vol.  IX,  p.  418)  ;  but,  as  the  first  edition  was 
of  1758,  and  the  Vicaire  Savoyard  is  of  1761  or  1762,  how  could  Rousseau  refer 
in  1758  to  a  work  published  three  or  four  years  later  (p.  304)  ?    The  whole 
problem  of  the  relations  of  the  Profession  de  foi  du  Vicaire  Savoyard  and  the 
Refutation  du  livre  de  f  esprit  will  be  examined  by  the  writer  elsewhere;  let 
it  suffice  here  to  say  that  a  solution  is  not  impossible  if  one  weighs  carefully 
every  word  of  Rousseau  in  XII,  304.     No  doubt  Rousseau  was  at  the  time 
(1758)  already  busy  with  the  Profession  de  foi]  possibly  a  good  part  of  it 
was  more  or  less  ready,  and  thus  he  could  speak  of  it  as  of  a  work  in  existence 
although  not  yet  before  the  eyes  of  the  public. 


24 


(Euvres,  XII,  p.  300. 


ROUSSEAU,  A  FORERUNNER  OF  PRAGMATISM.  493 

I  am  not  merely  a  sensitive  and  passive  being,  but  an  active 
and  intelligent  being,  and  no  matter  what  philosophers  say, 
I  dare  pretend  to  the  honor  of  thinking.  I  know  only  that 
truth  is  in  the  things  and  not  in  my  mind  which  judges  them 
(que  la  verite  est  dans  les  choses  et  non  pas  dans  nion  esprit 
qui  les  juge)  and  that  the  less  I  put  of  my  own  in  my  judg- 
ments about  them,  the  surer  I  am  to  come  near  the  truth : 
thus  my  rule,  to  listen  to  sentiment  more  than  to  reason, 
is  supported  by  reason  itself." 

Why  is  Rousseau  so  much  concerned  with  those  the- 
ories ? — The  last  passage  quoted  tells  it  plainly :  if  human 
judgment  is  merely  passive,  the  same  will  be  true  of  our 
emotions,  of  our  wills  which  depend  on  our  perceptions  and 
judgments  of  things;  if  that  were  true,  it  would  do  away 
with  moral  freedom,  and  this  would  be  very  bad  from  an 
ethical  point  of  view.  That  this  is  the  attitude  of  Rousseau 
is  shown  in  the  second  part  of  his  refutation  of  Helvetius, 
one  of  his  last  remarks  being :  -"In  the  first  place  upright- 
ness is  indispensable,  and  not  intellect  (I' esprit)  ;  and  in  the 
second  place  it  depends  upon  us  to  be  honest  people,  and 
not  to  be  gens  d' esprit"  (XII,  304)  ;  it  is  shown  abundently 
further  in  all  his  best  known  works. 

Rousseau  is  determined  to  get  a  philosophy  of  an  eth- 
ical nature,  i.  e.,  a  philosophy  which  must  be  good  morally 
for  humanity,  even  at  the  expense  of  truth  if  need  be ;  he 
will  refuse  to  consider  any  other  as  he  himself  told  us.25 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  nature,  life  and  therefore  philosophy 
are  neither  moral  nor  immoral,  they  are  indifferent,  or  as 
we  say  now  a-moral ;  but  I  repeat  it  once  more,  this  is  just 
the  distinctive  character  of  pragmatism  that  it  would  force 
nature  and  life,  and  therefore  philosophy,  to  be  moral,  or, 
as  some  say,  teleological, — the  latter  term  meaining  again 
"morally"  teleological,  it  goes  without  saying.  Of  course, 

25  (Euvres,  IX,  194,  quoted  above,  and  cf.  with  James's  Will  to  Believe,  p. 
126. 


494  THE  MONIST. 

if  nature,  and  therefore  objective  truth,  on  the  one  hand 
and  morality  on  the  other  hand  agreed  with  each  other, 
philosophy  would  never  have  been  anything  else  but  prag- 
matic, it  would  be  so  naturally.  But  as  they  do  not  agree, 
a  special  philosophy,  different  from  natural  philosophy,  was 
to  be  founded  in  order  to  carry  through  pragmatic,  i.  e., 
non-natural  philosophical  principles.  Pragmatic  philos- 
ophy is  therefore,  cannot  be  anything  but,  unobjective  phi- 
losophy, superposed  over  objective  philosophy. 

On  the  other  hand,  all  philosophy  to  be  acceptable  must 
look  objective  and  natural,  and  so  of  course  pragmatic 
philosophy  will  have  to  claim  that  it  is  natural  philosophy. 
And  as  it  is  not  it  will  have  to  try  to  make  us  believe  that  it 
is:  therefore,  to  create  a  confusion  between  a  natural  or 
objective  philosophy,  and  a  non-natural  philosophy  is  the 
very  aim  pragmatic  philosophers  will  have  to  pursue.  If 
they  do  not  do  it,  if  they  do  not  conceal  that  natural  phi- 
losophy and  pragmatic  philosophy  do  not  naturally  agree, 
their  cause  is  lost. 

Thus  the  success  of  pragmatic  philosophers,  like  Rous- 
seau and  James,  depends  upon  their  cleverness  to  confuse 
things ;  and  indeed  they  have  made  it  hard  for  their  oppo- 
nents to  disentangle  the  fallacies  of  pragmatism.  Philos- 
ophers ought  never  to  cut  Gordian  knots,  let  me  try  to  untie 
smoothly  Rousseau's  knot.  The  whole  matter  is  contained 
in  the  last  passage  quoted. 

To  reduce  philosophy  to  pragmatic  or  moral  philosophy, 
two  things  are  necessary : 

1.  to  prove  that  we  are  not  mere  automata,  that  we 
can  be  really  moral,  i.  e.,  active. 

2.  to  prove  that  our  natural  way  of  thinking  is  prag- 
matic or  moral,  not  intellectual ;  that  therefore  moral 
thinking  is  not  merely  a  special  application  of  pure 
thinking,  of  rational  thinking,  but  is  thinking  itself. 


ROUSSEAU,  A  FORERUNNER  OF  PRAGMATISM.  495 

Thus,  the  two  adversaries  to  be  fought  will  be  sensual- 
ism and  rationalism. 

First,  Rousseau  forms  an  alliance  with  rationalism  to 
defeat  sensualism,  thus  establishing  that  human  beings 
actually  think ;  that  the  way  in  which  they  think  does  not 
depend  exclusively  on  the  data  of  the  senses. 

Secondly,  that  once  established,  Rousseau  suddenly 
turns  against  rationalism,  and  says  that  thinking  is  bad. 
He  means,  of  course,  mere  thinking,  thinking  which  is  not 
"morally"  colored.  As  morality  is  the  goal,  any  thinking 
that  is  not  "moral"  is  bad,  therefore  the  less  one  thinks, 
i.  e.,  thinks  merely  rationally,  the  better. 

Let  us  now  read  over  the  little  paragraph  quoted  and 
analyze  it  and  see  whether  I  have  betrayed  Rousseau's 
thought. 

First  he  says :  "I  dare  pretend  to  the  honor  of  thinking!' 

But  he  adds  immediately :  "7  know  only  that  truth  is  in 
the  things  and  not  in  my  mind  which  judges  them,  and 
that  the  less  I  put  of  my  own  in  my  judgments  about  them, 
the  surer  I  am  to  come  near  the  truth :  thus  my  rule  to  listen 
to  sentiment  rather  than  to  reason  is  supported  by  reason 
itself." 

The  "only"  between  parts  i  and  2  is  a  very  innocent 
looking  word;  as  a  matter  of  fact,  there  is  the  most  re- 
markable opposition  between  the  two  statements  connected 
by  it. 

The  first  says :  I  think ;  I  am  not  only  passive  but  active 
in  my  judgments ;  I  must  think,  otherwise  I  am  not  free  and 
there  is  no  morality  possible. 

The  second  says:  The  more  I  think,  the  further  away 
I  go  from  truth;  I  must  not  think,  otherwise  I  get  away 
from  sound  moral  thinking. 

Thus:  first,  I  must  think  (to  be  free)  ;  second,  I  must 
not  think  (to  be  right). 

There  seems  to  be  another  contradiction  in  Rousseau's 


496  THE  MONIST. 

attitude  towards  sensualism  and  rationalism.  Regarding 
the  first  he  said :  Let  us  not  admit  that  we  are  passive  in  our 
judgments;  and  regarding  the  second:  Let  us  rather  be 
passive  in  our  judgments.  But  never  mind  the  paradox. 
What  he  is  aiming  at  all  the  time,  is  plainly  indicated  by  the 
last  sentence  of  the  little  paragraph  under  consideration 
where  he  opposes  sentiment  to  reason.  He  means  that  we 
ought  not  to  be  affected  by  intellectual  or  rational  judg- 
ments; we  must  not  think  intellectually.  In  other  words 
he  admits  the  existence  of  other  judgments,  besides  intel- 
lectual judgments. 

What  are  those  other  judgments,  suddenly  and  sur- 
reptitiously thrown  in  the  discussion? — Well,  the  senti- 
mental judgments,  which  Rousseau  seems  to  avoid  to  name, 
are  the  moral  or  pragmatic  judgments.  But  why  this  fear 
of  speaking  plainly,  of  expressing  openly  the  principles 
which  are  at  the  bottom  of  his  whole  philosophy  and  of 
momentous  works  like  Emile  and  all  the  others?  Simply 
because  Rousseau  felt  very  well  that  this  move,  of  the  ad- 
mission of  different  sorts  of  judgments,  though  clever  for 
his  purpose,  could  not  stand  the  test  of  critical  examination. 
To  judge,  which  implies  to  think,  cannot  not  be  intellectual, 
and  so  either  to  think  and  judge  morally  is  one  and  the 
same  thing  as  to  think  or  judge  intellectually,  or  it  is  not ; 
and  then  to  judge  morally  is  to  judge  non-intellectually  or 
irrationally  (or  a-rationally,  that  makes  no  difference.) 
Now,  as  Rousseau  plainly  suggests  two  kinds  of  judgments, 
(a)  sentimental  and  (fr)  rational  or  intellectual,  there  is  no 
way  out  of  it,  the  sentimental  must  not  be  rational.  There 
would  be  no  use  distinguishing  them  if  they  were  alike. 

We  come  now  to  the  next  question.  As  Rousseau  puts 
those  irrational  judgments  at  the  basis  of  his  philosophy, 
refers  to  them  all  the  time,  they  must  of  course  correspond 
to  something  definite.  What  is  it?  What  is  practical 
reason  as  opposed  to  pure  reason  ( — for,  this  is  the  oppo- 


ROUSSEAU,  A  FORERUNNER  OF  PRAGMATISM.  497 

sition  which  Rousseau  establishes  and  which  Kant  named 
so  conveniently)  ? — Back  of  this  famous  word,  practical 
reason,  lies  the  whole  secret  of  the  pragmatic  fallacy. 

When  you  judge  or  think,  you  always  judge  intellec- 
tually or  rationally,  there  is  no  escape  from  that;  but  it 
is  possible  when  judging  intellectually  to  judge  either  ob- 
jectively or  subjectively;  and  now  we  see  at  once  how 
"practical  reason"  can  still  remain  "reason."  You  have 
pure  reason  and  applied  reason,  pure  philosophy  and  ap- 
plied philosophy,  as  you  have  pure  science  and  applied 
science.  As  a  mathematician  gives  up  pure  mathematics 
for  astronomy,  or  a  chemist  gives  up  pure  chemistry  for 
confection  of  food,  or  a  physicist  gives  up  pure  physics  to 
manufacture  telephones,  so  one  can  give  up  pure  philos- 
ophy for  applied  philosophy,  the  most  common  form  of 
which  is  ethics.  It  is  still  intellectual,  but  what  was  the 
end  before,  to  study  and  to  judge  man,  nature,  life  for  the 
sake  of  pure  science,  for  the  sa~ke  of  promoting  objective 
truth,  has  become  a  means,  i.  e.,  one  applies  judgment  or 
thought  about  men,  nature,  life  to  the  promoting  of  happi- 
ness, of  social  order,  of  morality — no  matter  how  you  call 
it.  And  this  applied  judgment,  this  intellectual  judgment 
in  favor  of  a  special  end,  an  ethical  end,  is  the  sentimental 
judgment  of  Rousseau,  or,  as  he  calls  it,  simply  sentiment, 
meaning  of  course  moral  sentiment,  or  moral  sense. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  Rousseau  and  later  pragmatism 
have  done  nothing  else  but  to  say,  and  try  to  make  us  be- 
lieve, that  this  applied  moral  philosophy  was  really  philos- 
ophy itself  and  that  whatever  is  not  moral  philosophy  (or 
does  not  lead  to  it  directly  or  indirectly;  religion  e.  g.  in  a 
pragmatic  sense  is  "moral"  too)  is  not  true  philosophy. 
But  this  is  as  if  an  astronomer  said  that  of  mathematics 
only  so  much  is  true  as  can  be  applied  to  astronomy;  or  if 
a  food  manufacturer  claimed  that  only  that  much  of  chem- 
istry is  true  which  applies  to  "Force"  or  "Quaker  Oats"; 


THE  MONIST. 

or  if  a  capitalist  owning  a  street-car  line  maintained  that 
physics  is  true  only  in  so  far  as  it  can  move  his  cars  along. 

Keeping  in  mind  then  that  "sentiment"  or  sentimental 
judgment  of  Rousseau  is  nothing  else  than  a  special  appli- 
cation of  philosophy  or  pure  reason  to  ethics,  let  us  read  in 
its  more  explicit  form  the  little  sentence  ending  our  para- 
graph; only  two  adjectives  have  to  be  supplied  to  betray 
the  fallacy  in  logic :  "My  rule,  to  allow  myself  to  be  guided 
by  sentiment  rather  than  by  [pure]  reason  is  confirmed  by 
[practical]  reason  itself";  or,  as  we  have  seen  that  the 
second  "reason,"  practical  reason,  is  the  same  as  "senti- 
ment/' we  will  have:  "my  rule.  . .  .to  be  guided  by  senti- 
ment rather  than  by  reason,  is  confirmed  by  sentiment  (it- 
self)"— which  of  course  is  just  the  opposite  of  the  conclu- 
sion Rousseau  wishes  to  reach ;  and  moreover,  a  very  trans- 
parent petitio  principii]  as  if  a  father  were  going  to  prove 
his  authority  over  his  children  by  saying:  this  authority 
is  proven  because  I  say  so.  The  word  itself  is  absolutely 
illegitimate,  and  suggests  to  the  reader  a  confusion  which 
he  could  not  possibly  have  committed  if  clear  terms  had 
been  used,  if  "reason"  was  used  consistently,  and  not  at 
first  as  pure  reason,  and  then  as  practical  reason. 

The  fallacies  just  exposed  are  better  recognizable  in 
Dewey  than  in  James  and  Rousseau.  Dewey  naively  at- 
tempted an  elaborate  and  painful  identification  of  purely 
philosophical  principles  and  pragmatic  principles  on  log- 
ical grounds;  I  have  shown  in  the  Journal  of  Philosophy 
(of  Nov.  1 6,  1908)  why  it  was  a  priori  impossible  that  he 
should  succeed,  and  how  in  insisting  upon  logic  in  prag- 
matism, he  was  carried  to  the  antipodes  of  pragmatism  in 
spite  of  himself.  James  and  Rousseau  wisely  did  not  insist 
on  that  part  of  the  matter;  Rousseau,  as  has  just  been 
seen,  managed  to  get  the  whole  thing  in  an  innocent  look- 
ing little  bit  of  a  paragraph  where  probably  not  one  of  a 
thousand  readers  will  notice  it — a  real  trick  of  legerdemain 


ROUSSEAU,  A  FORERUNNER  OF  PRAGMATISM.  499 

(done,  I  need  not  say,  with  a  very  generous  and  moral 
purpose  in  view,  a  pieux  mensonge  as  they  say  in  Rous- 
seau's country).  James  is  as  wise  as  Rousseau;  he  kept 
silent.  Only  once  have  I  noticed  that  he  faced  the  difficulty, 
and  then  the  honesty  of  the  man  betrayed  the  attempts  of 
the  philosopher :  for  he  implicitly  admits  that  there  is  really 
no  logical,  no  rational  background  to  that  aspect  of  prag- 
matism. This  important  passage  is  found  in  Pragmatism, 
when  James  feels  cornered  by  an  objection  to  pragmatic 
views,  which  he  cannot  help  mentioning,  namely :  what  has 
the  teleological  element  to  do  with  truth?  "The  essence 
of  a  sane  mind,  you  may  say,  is  to  take  shorter  views,  and 
to  feel  no  concern  about  such  chimeras  as  the  latter  end 
of  the  world.  Well,  I  can  only  say  that  if  you  say  this 
you  do  injustice  to  human  nature.™  Religious  melancholy 
is  not  disposed  of  by  a  simple  flourish  of  the  word  insanity. 
The  absolute  things,  the  last  things,  the  overlapping  things, 
are  the  truly  philosophic  concerns.  . .  ."  (p.  108).  Nobody 
says  that  you  must  ignore  those  "absolute .  . .  last .  . .  over- 
lapping things/' or  even  that  they  are  not  more  important  to 
humanity  than  merely  objective  philosophy.  But  the  true 
philosopher  considers  that  one  ought  not  to  call  objective 
philosophy  what  is  merely  our  subjective  power  of  reason- 
ing. 

Another  passage  of  James  may  be  quoted  here  as  proof 
of  how  much  the  same  preoccupations  are  at  the  bottom 
of  both  philosophies.  I  need  only  recall  the  fact  that  what 
Rousseau  called  sensualism  is  now  called  materialism,  and 
what  Rousseau  called  rationalism  is  now  called  agnosti- 
cism. Keeping  this  in  mind  read  James :  "Just  as,  within 
the  limits  of  theism,  some  kinds  [of  theisms]  are  surviving 
others  by  reason  of  their  greater  practical  rationality [!], 
so  theism  itself,  by  reason  of  its  practical  rationality  is  cer- 
tain to  survive  all  lower  creeds.  Materialism  and  agnosti- 

*The  italics  are  mine. 


5OO  THE   MONIST. 

cism,  even  were  they  true,  could  never  gain  universal  and 
popular  acceptance,  for  they  both  alike  give  a  solution  of 
things  which  is  irrational  to  the  practical  third  of  our 
nature  ["sentimental"  third  of  Rousseau],  and  in  which 
we  can  never  volitionally  feel  at  home."  (The  Will  to 
Believe,  p.  126.) 

For  both  Rousseau  and  James  the  whole  problem  of 
philosophy  consists  in  this :  identify  truthfulness27  and  use- 
fulness :  you  can  say  of  a  truth  "either  that  'it  is  useful  be- 
cause it  is  true/  or  that  'it  is  true  because  it  is  useful'  " ;  and 
the  "usefulness"  meant  there  is  pragmatic  or  ethical  "truth- 
fulness," not  merely  "objective"  or  "scientific" :  "On  prag- 
matic principles  we  can  not  reject  any  hypothesis  if  con- 
sequences useful  to  life  flow  from  it."  (Pragm.,  p.  273 ;  cf . 
222,  233  and  234,  and  the  whole  of  lectures  VII  and  VIII.) 

This  ethical  meaning  is  the  meaning  of  the  pragmatic 
"question":  "Grant  an  idea  or  a  belief  to  be  true,  what 
concrete  difference  will  its  being  true  make  in  anyone's 
actual  life  ?" — or  there  is  none. 

And  notice  that  we  find  this  famous  "pragmatic  ques- 
tion formulated  in  remarkably  similar  terms  by  Rousseau. 
It  is  expressed  or  understood  everywhere  in  his  writings ; 
but  probably  nowhere  so  plainly  stated  as  in  the  third  book 
of  Entile. 

In  the  programme  laid  out  by  him  for  the  education 
of  the  boy,  Rousseau  proposes  for  the  two  first  periods, 
from  one  to  five,  and  from  five  to  twelve  years  of  age,  a 
merely  physical  and  animal  development;  the  body  and 
mind  of  the  child  must  be  let  free,  he  must  get  strong  and 
ready  for  work.  Only  when  he  is  twelve  years  of  age,  shall 
Emile  begin  to  apply  his  acquired  strength  and  faculties  to 
some  definite  purposes.  The  time  has  come  to  teach  him. 
What  shall  one  teach  him?  There  are  three,  or  rather 

37 1  do  not  see  that  it  makes  much  difference  to  say  truth  or  truthfulness ; 
still  as  James  insists  in  a  special  article  (Journal  of  Philosophy,  March  26, 
1908)  on  that  distinction  I  gladly  insert  "truthfulness." 


ROUSSEAU,  A  FORERUNNER  OF  PRAGMATISM.  5OI 

four  sorts  of  things,  which  man  can  learn :  some  are  false, 
some  useless,  some  proper  only  to  develop  our  vanity. 
There  are  a  few,  however,  which  are  worthy  of  a  wise 
man:  "The  question  is  not  to  know  what  is,  but  only  to 
know  what  is  useful."  (//  ne  s'agit  pas  de  savoir  ce  qui 
est,  mais  settlement  ce  qui  est  utile.)  A  quoi  cela  est-il  bonf 
(What  is  it  good  for?)  that,  from  now  on,  is  the  sacred 
word ....  the  one  you  teach,  as  being  his  most  important 
lesson,  to  desire  to  know  nothing  except  the  useful,  ask 
questions  like  Socrates.  Let  me  quote  the  few  lines  with 
which  Rousseau  sums  up  his  whole  book  of  Emile:  "It  is 
enough  that  the  child  should  know  the  'what  for'  (I'd  quoi 
bon)  of  everything  he  does,  and  the  'why'  of  everything  he 
believes.  Once  more :  my  purpose  is  not  to  give  him  science, 
but  to  teach  him  how  to  get  it  in  case  of  need,  to  make  him 
appreciate  it  for  exactly  what  it  is  worth,  and  to  make  him 
love  truth  above  a//."28  (P.  179.) — How  clear  it  is  here 
that  "truth"  means  "practical  truth,"  "cash-value,"  as 
James  says,  in  opposition  to  "science" ! 

All  this,  I  say,  is  good  pragmatism. 

When  it  comes  to  special  application  of  pragmatic  prin- 
ciples the  comparison  holds  of  course.  But  as  Rousseau 
has  worked  out  the  application  more  than  the  principles 
and  James  has  done  the  reverse,  it  will  suffice  to  refer  the 
reader  to  the  second  half  of  the  Nouvelle  Helo'ise  where 
applications  follow  upon  applications  under  Rousseau's 
pen.  See  particularly  Part  V,  Letter  3.  One  instance, 
however,  may  be  allowed  here :  the  views  of  Rousseau  and 
James  about  religion.  I  have  treated  this  point  at  length 
regarding  James  in  my  book  Antipragmatisme,  p.  143  ff.  I 
recall  only  one  passage  of  Pragmatism:  fflf  theological 
ideas  prove  to  have  a  value  for  concrete  life,  they  will  be 
true,  for  pragmatism,  in  the  sense  of  being  true  for  so 

28  The  italics  are  mine. 


5O2  THE  MONIST. 

much."29  Now  here  are  two  short  sentences  (from  among 
hundreds)  showing  how  Rousseau  applied  the  pragmatic 
principle  one  and  a  half  century  ago,  principles  which, 
when  applied,  look  much  less  sublime  than  when  vested 
in  the  eloquent  sentences  of  the  Profession  de  foi  du  Vicaire 
Savoyard ;  even  here  the  grand  style  of  Rousseau  has  daz- 
zled most  of  his  readers.  A  few  years  had  elapsed  since 
Saint  Preux  and  Julie  had  yielded  to  their  love ;  now  Julie 
is  married  to  Wolmar,  but  Saint  Preux  lives  under  the 
same  roof  as  preceptor  of  their  children.  Wolmar  goes 
away  and  the  two  former  lovers  remain  alone:  "Our 
hearts,"  writes  Saint  Preux,  "had  loved  each  other;  they 
had  not  forgotten ;  and  everything  now  seemed  to  unite  in 
making  us  sin  again."  Julie  was  determined,  however,  to 
conquer,  and  "she  could  not  imagine  a  more  reliable  pre- 
caution than  to  impose  upon  herself  constantly  a  witness 
whom  she  would  have  to  respect,  to  call,  as  a  third  one 
among  us,  the  integer  and  redoutable  Judge  who  sees  secret 
actions  and  reads  our  hearts.  She  surrounded  herself  with 
His  supreme  majesty;  I  saw  God  constantly  between  her 
and  me.  What  guilty  desire  could  have  attempted  to  ig- 
nore such  protection?"30 

And  on  the  same  page  again,  discussing  the  case  of 
Wolmar  who  was  good  without  religion,  Rousseau  puts  in 
Saint  Preux' s  mouth  the  following  words :  "Milord,  we  will 
never  be  able  to  convert  that  man;  he  is  too  cold,  and  he 
is  good;  the  question  is  not  to  touch  him  [with  arguments] ; 
he  lacks  the  interior  proof  of  sentiment,  and  this  is  the 
only  one  which  renders  the  others  irresistible,"  in  other 
words:  Wolmar  needs  no  religion,  being  good  without  it; 
therefore  we  have  no  way  of  converting  him.  And  here 

"  James  underlines. — It  is  true  that  he  adds :  "For  how  much  they  are  true, 
will  depend  entirely  on  their  relations  to  the  other  truths,  that  also  have  to  be 
acknowledged"  but  it  is  evident  that  this  contradicts  the  first  sentence  flatly. 
If  the  ideas  are  true  anyway,  what  is  the  use  of  pragmatism;  if  pragmatic 
ideas  have  the  first  right  to  be  called  truth,  why  bother  about  other  criterions  ? 

80  (Euvres,  IV,  p.  416. 


ROUSSEAU,  A  FORERUNNER  OF  PRAGMATISM.  503 

remember  James's  words  in  the  Will  to  Believe,  p.  30: 
"The  whole  defense  of  religion  hinges  upon  action.  If 
the  action  required  or  inspired  by  the  religious  hypothesis 
is  in  no  way  different  from  that  dictated  by  the  naturalistic 
hypothesis,  then  religious  faith  is  a  pure  superfluity,  better 
pruned  away,  and  controversy  about  its  legitimacy  is  a 
piece  of  idle  trifling,  unworthy  of  serious  minds."81  Rous- 
seau said:  "And  if  the  Great  Being  did  not  exist. . .  .it 
would  still  be  well  that  man  should  think  of  him  [s'en 
occupdt]  constantly,  so  as  to  remain  better  in  control  of 
himself,  to  be  stronger,  happier  and  wiser."  (GLuvres, 
IV,  p.  248.) 

To  sum  up  my  whole  demonstration  of  the  parallelism 
of  Rousseau's  and  James's  thought,  I  offer  the  two  follow- 
ing passages  for  comparison.  In  them,  for  every  one  who 
has  in  the  least  a  critical  sense,  these  two  thinkers  give 
themselves  away  (if  I  may  so  speak)  in  their  attempts  at 
pragmatizing  philosophy.  These  two  passages  allow  us 
to  put  our  ringer  right  on  the  spot  where  the  system  leaks, 
or,  still  better,  go  off  on  a  tangent. 

James  writes  in  Pragmatism,  pp.  76-77: 
"If  there  be  any  life  that  it  is  really  better  we  should 
lead,  and  if  there  should  be  any  idea,  which,  if  believed  in, 
would  help  us  to  lead  that  life,  then  it  would  be  really 
better  for  us  to  believe  in  that  idea,  unless,  indeed,  belief 
in  it  incidentally  clashed  with  other  great  vital  benefits. 
[Now  listen:]  What  would  be  better  for  us  to  believe'! 
This  sounds  very  like  a  definition  of  truth.  It  comes  very 
near  saying  'what  we  ought  to  believe' :  and  in  that  defi- 
nition none  of  you  would  find  any  oddity.  Ought  we  ever 
not  to  believe  what  it  is  better  for  us  to  believe  ?  And  can 
we  then  keep  the  notion  of  what  is  better  for  us,  and  what 
is  true  for  us  permanently  apart  ?"  That  playing  with  the 

"It  is  true  that  Wolmar  is  not  actually  presented  to  us  as  sharing  the 
"naturalistic  hypothesis,"  but  that  is  of  no  importance  here;  any  thing  that  is 
not  the  "religious  hypothesis"  may  be  understood  as  well. 


5O4  THE  MONIST. 

logical  and  the  sentimental  meaning  of  ought,  I  call  the 
superlative  of  cleverness.32 

Now  to  Rousseau.  It  is  a  passage  from  the  answer  to 
the  archbishop  of  Paris  (CEuvres,  III,  pp.  92-93),  who  had 
written  his  "Mandement"  aginst  Emile,  speaking  especially 
of  the  Profession  de  foi  du  Vicaire  Savoyard. 

"It  appears  to  me  credible  that,  after  these  long  periods 
lost  in  puerile  controversies,  men  of  sense  will  some  day 
seek  for  a  means  of  conciliation.  The  first  thing  they  will 
propose  will  be  to  put  out  of  the  assembly  all  theologians 
[you  might  read  just  as  well  metaphysicians  or  philos- 
ophers]. This  good  work  done,  they  will  say  to  the  peo- 
ples :  'So  long  as  you  do  not  agree  upon  any  common  prin- 
ciple, it  is  impossible  for  you  to  understand  each  other ;  and 
it  is  an  argument  that  has  never  convinced  any  one,  to 
say  I  am  right  and  you  are  wrong.  You  speak  of  what  is 
agreeable  to  God,  but  that  is  precisely  what  is  in  question ! 
If  we  knew  which  creed  was  most  agreeable  to  Him,  there 
would  be  no  dispute  between  us.  But  you  also  speak  of 
what  is  'useful'  to  men — that  is  a  different  matter.  Men 
can  decide  this.  Let  us  take  this  utility  for  our  rule,  and 
then  let  us  establish  the  doctrine  which  is  nearest  to  it. 
We  may  by  this  means  hope  to  approach  as  near  to  the 
truth  as  is  possible  to  men ;  for  we  may  assume™  that  what 
is  most  useful  to  the  creatures  of  His  hand,  is  most  agree- 
able to  the  Creator." 

Exactly  the  same  fundamentally:  the  useful,  in  the 
sense  of  the  morally  good,  must  be  the  principle  of  belief, 
philosophic  or  religious.  The  only  difference  in  expression 
being  due  to  the  circumstance  in  which  the  passages  were 
written.  Rousseau  proves  a  trifle  more  theological  because 
he  answers  de  Beaumont  who  attacked  his  pragmatism  on 
religious  grounds,  and  he  wants  to  show  that  religious 

a  The  same  has  been  done  by  Schiller.    See  Anti-pragmatisme ,  pp.  23-24. 
88  The  italics  are  mine. 


ROUSSEAU,  A  FORERUNNER  OF  PRAGMATISM.  505 

problems  are  far  from  indifferent  to  him;  James,  on  the 
other  hand,  is  facing  philosophers  and  argues  with  the 
aim  of  turning  logicans  into  moralists  or  pragmatists. 

Of  the  two,  James  is  altogether  more  philosophical. 
Rousseau  thinks  that  he  can  oppose  a  systematic  and 
rational  philosophy  to  the  objective  philosophers  on  the 
one  hand,  and  to  the  dogmatic  Christians  on  the  other, 
namely  that  in  the  world  everything  is  rationally  and  mor- 
ally harmonious  (Profession  de  foi  du  Vicaire  Savoyard) ; 
while  James  is  more  modest  and  frankly  acknowledges  that 
pragmatism  requires  the  giving  up  of  the  ideal  of  unity 
of  thought.  He  plunges  into  pluralism  because  reality  re- 
fuses to  be  synthetized  in  his  philosophy:  "The  world  is 
One  just  as  far  as  we  experience  it  to  be  concatenated,  One 
by  as  many  definite  conjunctions  as  appear.  But  then  also 
not  One  by  just  as  many  definite  ^junctions  as  we  find .  .  . 
It  is  neither  a  universe  pure  and  simple,  nor  a  multiverse 
pure  and  simple."  (Pragm.,  p..  148)  ;  and  he  advocates 
meliorism  because  he  cannot  be  an  optimist:  "It  is  clear 
that  pragmatism  must  incline  towards  meliorism. .  . .  "Me- 
liorism treats  salvation  as  neither  necessary  nor  impos- 
sible. . ."  (p.  286).  This  modesty  about  the  shortcomings 
of  his  own  philosophy  is  extremely  praiseworthy  on  James's 
part;  only  as  it  is  equivalent  to  saying  that  pragmatism 
does  not  stand  the  scientific  test  of  unity  of  thought,  it  is 
from  a  philosophic  point  of  view,  simply  mortal. 

Our  task  is  really  over  here.  Still  it  is  interesting  to 
remark  how  closely  the  two  philosophers  compare,  when 
one  examines  some  applications  of  the  pragmatic  principles 
which  the  two  men  have  deemed  important  to  discuss. 

Three  examples  may  be  selected: 

i.  For  both  men  the  ultimate  purpose  of  pragmatic 
principles  is  to  fit  people  for  practical  life  as  much  as  pos- 
sible, and  thus  increase  their  general  happiness.  Now  the 
danger  is  that  if  you  preach  happiness  outright  people  are 


506  THE  MONIST. 

likely  to  indulge  unwisely  in  pleasures  and  thus,  either  to 
burn  the  candle  at  both  ends,  or  to  get  blase  to  pleasure; 
in  both  cases  it  means  depriving  themselves  ultimately  of 
good  things  just  out  of  sheer  ignorance  or  heedlessness. 
There  was  at  the  time  of  Rousseau,  and  there  exists  un- 
doubtedly to-day,  a  tendency  among  us  to  overwork  our- 
selves, so  to  speak,  in  making  merry,  while  for  purely 
Epicurean  reasons  we  really  ought  to  refrain  more.  Thus, 
both  Rousseau  and  James  insist  repeatedly  in  their  writ- 
ings on  a  sort  of  asceticism  which  men  must  impose  on 
themselves,  not  at  all  to  deprive  themselves,  but  on  the 
contrary  to  get  more  enjoyment  out  of  life  in  the  long  run, 
or  more  power  of  resistance  against  suffering.  From  James 
I  quote  the  passage  of  Psychology,  Vol.  I,  pp.  126-7,  which 
he  has  not  unfrequently  developed  in  later  works,  recently 
in  a  pedagogical  publication.  It  is  found  at  the  end  of  the 
chapter  on  "Habit" :  "As  a  final  practical  maxim,  relative 
to  these  habits  of  the  will,  we  may  then  offer  some  thing 
like  this :  Keep  the  faculty  of  effort  alive  in  you  by  a  little 
gratuitous  exercise  every  day.  That  is,  be  systematiclly 
ascetic  or  heroic  in  little,  unnecessary  point;  do  every  day 
or  two  something  for  no  other  reason  than  that  you  would 
rather  not  do  it,  so  that  when  the  hour  of  dire  need  draws 
nigh,  it  may  find  you  not  unnerved  and  untrained  to  stand 
the  test.  Asceticism  of  this  sort  is  like  the  insurance  which 
a  man  pays  on  his  house  and  goods.  The  tax  does  him  no 
good  at  the  time  and  possibly  may  never  bring  him  a  return. 
But  if  the  fire  does  come,  his  having  paid  it  will  be  his  sal- 
vation from  ruin.  So  with  the  man  who  has  daily  inured 
himself  to  habits  of  concentrated  attention,  energetic  voli- 
tion and  self-denial  in  unnecessary  things,  he  will  stand  like 
a  tower  when  everything  rocks  around  him  and  when  his 
softer  fellow-mortals  are  winnowed  like  chaff  in  the  blast." 
James  here  takes  life  under  its  severe  aspect ;  let  us  se- 
lect in  Rousseau  a  few  passages  where  the  Epicurean  note 


ROUSSEAU,  A  FORERUNNER  OF  PRAGMATISM.  507 

is  more  pronounced.  The  author  writes  of  the  incompar- 
able Julie:  "The  means  she  uses  to  give  value  to  the  small- 
est things  is  to  refuse  to  take  them  twenty  times,  in  order 
to  enjoy  them  once."  One  of  the  ends  she  wishes  to  reach 
thus,  is  "to  remain  her  own  mistress,  to  force  passions  to 
obey,  and  to  subordinate  all  her  desires  to  the  rule.  It  is 
a  new  way  of  being  happy;  for  one  enjoys  without  uneasi- 
ness only  what  one  can  lose  without  difficulty;  and  if  true 
happiness  belongs  to  the  sage,  it  is  because,  of  all  men,  he 
is  the  one  from  whom  fortune  can  rob  least"  (CEuvres  IV, 
pp.  378-9).  Or  again:  "The  privation  which  she  imposes 
upon  herself  by  this  tempering  voluptuousness  (cette  vo- 
lupte  temper  ante)  are  both  new  means  of  pleasure,  and 
new  ways  of  economizing.  For  instance,  she  loves  black 
coffee:  at  her  mother's  house  she  took  some  every  day; 
she  has  given  up  the  habit  in  order  to  get  more  taste  for  it. 
She  has  decided  to  have  some  only  when  guests  are  about, 
and  in  the  salon  d'Apollon,  in  order  to  add  this  little  re- 
joicing to  the  others"  (p.  286).  At  times  it  goes  so  far 
as  to  lack  the  sense  of  the  beautiful :  "When  I  tell  her  of 
the  things  they  invent  all  the  time  in  Paris  to  render  the 
riding  in  carriages  more  comfortable,  she  approves  of  that 
well  enough;  but,  when  I  tell  her  how  far  they  have  gone 
in  improving  the  varnishes  of  the  carriages,  she  follows  me 
no  more  and  will  always  ask,  whether  those  beautiful  var- 
nishes will  render  the  carriages  more  convenient"  (p. 
371  ).34  Shall  we  say  that  the  heroic  "Roman  virtues"  so 
emphatically  praised  by  Rousseau  lose  something  of  their 
lustre  when  brought  back  to  that  pragmatic  standpoint? 
2.  In  another  point,  we  may  call  it  the  metaphysical 
meaning  of  life,  James  and  Rousseau  show  rather  striking 
similarity  of  thought.  Both  are  anxious  to  secure  for  men 
the  happiest  and  at  the  same  time  the  healthiest  way  of 
living ;  and  not  only  do  they  see  that  the  practicing  of  Vir- 

34  See  also  pp.  380,  384,  397  ff-  etc. 


5O8  THE  MONIST. 

tue'  is  by  no  means  always  accompanied  by  happiness,  but 
also  that  people  get  at  times  impatient  to  wait  until  after 
death  to  settle  their  bills  of  rewards.  So  as  our  philos- 
ophers address  everybody,  and  especially  the  masses,  i.  e., 
mostly  more  or  less  childlike  people,  they  must  find  some 
sort  of  encouragement  for  them.  They  will  then  pat  a 
man  on  the  back  and  tell  him  not  to  be  sulky  at  the  unpleas- 
antness of  life,  as  we  do  our  boys  when  they  are  reluctant 
to  go  to  the  dentist  and  we  tell  them :  Now,  you  will  be  a 
good  boy,  you  will  not  cry,  you  will  be  a  real  courageous 
boy.  That  is  the  meaning  of  James's  theory  of  risk:  man 
has  the  honor,  the  great  honor  of  conquering  evil,  this  is 
greatly  preferable  to  just  plain  happiness;  nobody  would 
want  that,  would  he?  "Those  Puritans  who  answered 
'yes'  to  the  question:  Are  you  willing  to  be  damned  for 
God's  glory?  were  in  this  objective[?]  and  magnanimous 
condition  of  mind"  (Pragm.,  p.  297). 

Rousseau  ends  his  Profession  de  foi  du  Vicaire  Savoy- 
ard with  a  few  statements  that  remind  us  curiously  of  the 
last  pages  of  Pragmatism:  "Why  is  my  soul  dependent 
upon  my  senses  and  chained  to  this  body  which  makes  a 
servant  of  it  and  is  a  hindrance  to  it?  I  know  nothing 
about  it;  did  I  enter  into  the  secrets  of  God?  But  I  can 
without  impropriety  propose  modest  suppositions.  I  say 
to  myself:  'If  man's  mind  had  remained  free  and  pure, 
what  merit  would  there  be  to  love  and  follow  the  order 
established  in  the  universe  and  which  he  would  have  no 
advantage  to  trouble  ?'  He  would  be  happy,  no  doubt ;  but 
his  happiness  would  not  be  of  the  most  sublime  kind  which 
is  the  glory  of  virtue  and  a  good  conscience :  he  would  be 
only  like  angels;  and  no  doubt  one  day  the  virtuous  man 
will  count  more  than  they  do.  United  to  a  mortal  body 
by  bonds  no  less  powerful  than  they  are  incomprehensible, 
the  care  for  the  conservation  of  this  body  incites  the  soul 
to  refer  everything  to  itself,  and  gives  it  an  interest  which 


ROUSSEAU,  A  FORERUNNER  OF  PRAGMATISM.  5OQ 

is  contrary  to  the  general  order,  which  it  can  nevertheless 
see  and  love.  Then  it  is  that  the  good  practice  of  his 
free-will  becomes  both  merit  and  recompense,  and  that 
man  prepares  for  himself  an  unalterable  happiness  in  fight- 
ing against  his  terrestrial  passions  and  keeping  true  to  its 
first  volition/'35  In  a  more  solemn  tone  than  James  in  his 
last  lecture,  this  expresses  very  much  the  same  thing :  Man 
has  a  beautiful  chance  to  be  great,  to  conquer  evil;  he 
certainly  would  not  forfeit  the  honor,  the  occasion  of  being 
a  hero,  of  outdoing  divine  beings  who  simply  cannot  help 
being  good.  All  this  is  simply  taking  man  by  his  vanity 
so  that  he  may  not  see  the  pettiness  of  his  God ;  the  ultimate 
purpose  of  the  order  of  things  not  only  is  never  made  clear, 
but  it  is  positively  a  stumbling  block  in  a  system  which 
claims  the  rational  God  of  Protestantism.36 

3.  The  last  rather  striking  similarity  in  the  details  of 
the  two  pragmatisms  of  Rousseau  and  James,  which  will 
be  mentioned  here  is  this :  Both  want  men  to  be  persuaded 
that  there  is  a  spiritual  power  above  us,  and  they  warn 
against  the  false  claims  of  vain  science.  As  indeed  all 
superior  beings  in  all  times,  they  both  have  a  deep  sense 
for  the  mysteries  that  surround  life,  and  will  surround  it 
even  if  we  know  a  thousand  times  as  much  as  we  do  now. 
In  other  words,  both  have  a  decided  predisposition  to  mys- 
ticism. From  James  we  have  words  like  these  appearing 
in  Will  to  Believe:  "The  negative,  the  alogical  is  never 
wholly  banished.  Something — call  it  chance,  freedom, 
spontaneity,  the  devil,  what  you  will — is  still  wrong  and 
other  and  outside  and  unincluded,  from  your  point  of 
view,  even  though  you  be  the  greatest  philosopher"  (p. 
viii).  James  has  become  a  member  of  the  Society  for 
Psychical  Research.  In  Rousseau  one  will  not  find  the 

85  (Euvres,  II,  p.  264. 

86  Which  at  bottom  is  also  James's.     I  have  shown  in  my  book  how  the 
God  of  Catholicism  is  more  satisfying  than  the  Protestant  one.     See  Anti- 
pragmatisme ,  pp.  185-190. 


5IO  THE  MONIST. 

theory  expressed  so  plainly,  because,  as  has  been  said 
above,  he  is  not  as  philosophical  a  mind  as  James,  not  feel- 
ing the  shortcomings  of  his  system  and  thinking  he  can 
keep  philosophical  unity  together  with  pragmatism.  In  a 
way,  of  course,  his  religion  of  "sentiment"  is  after  all  mys- 
ticism. But  further  we  have  a  few  very  interesting  facts 
showing  that  Rousseau  was  inclined  to  believe  in  certain 
kinds  of  seconde  vue  and  in  the  realization  of  dreams.  He 
experienced  one  illustration  of  seconde  vue  himself  and 
told  Bernardin  de  Saint  Pierre  about  it.  The  latter  relates 
the  conversation  as  follows:  "He  firmly  believed  that  Di- 
vinity had  laws  of  action  unknown  to  men.  We  were  speak- 
ing of  presentiment,  striking  dreams,  and  I  quoted  some  to 
him.  Then  he  told  me:  Once  when  I  was  in  the  age  of 
innocence  and  purity,  I  was  alone  in  the  country,  and  I 
allowed  my  thought  to  wander  freely  until  I  finally  com- 
pletely lost  consciousness  of  the  landscape  around  me ;  and 
I  saw  a  castle,  avenues,  hedges,  a  society  of  people  whom 
I  had  never  seen,  but  all  so  clearly,  so  distinctly  alive  that, 
filled  with  astonishment,  I  regained  consciousness  so  struck 
with  the  picture  that  it  remained  profoundly  impressed  in 
my  memory  with  all  its  details.  Many  years  after  I  found 
myself  in  a  castle  with  the  same  hedges,  personages,  fig- 
ures, actions ;  and  the  whole  so  absolutely  alike  that  I  ut- 
tered a  cry  of  surprise."  (Pp.  102-103.)  Now,  if  we 
open  the  Nouvelle  Helo'ise  once  more,  which  was  to  the 
end  the  favorite  book  of  Rousseau,  we  find  that  he  believed 
in  dreams.  In  Part  V,  letter  9,  St.  Preux  (Rousseau)  sees 
Julie  who  comes  herself  to  announce  that  she  is  going  to 
die  soon.  Claire,  hearing  the  dream  (letter  10)  is  all  up- 
set ;  and  a  few  pages  further  we  hear  of  the  accident  that 
caused  the  young  woman's  death.  Furthermore  we  have 
a  passage  where  St.  Preux,  in  spite  of  the  theories  which 
were  expressed  at  the  very  same  epoch  in  Emile,  actually 
believes  in  the  interference  of  God  in  the  affairs  of  this 


ROUSSEAU,  A  FORERUNNER  OF  PRAGMATISM.  51 1 

world  to  grant  a  prayer.  In  Book  V,  letter  6,  Wolmar  tells 
his  wife  that  her  prayers  for  his  conversion  would  have 
been  heard  long  ago  if  there  had  been  a  God,  and  in  a 
sort  of  ecstasy  Julie  answers:  "They  will  be  heard.  . .  .1 
know  not  the  time  and  the  occasion.  Might  I  obtain  this 
in  paying  for  it  with  my  life !  My  last  day  would  then  be 
the  most  useful."  And  here  again  the  presentiment  on 

the  one  hand  is  realized,  and  the  prayer  is  granted. 

*      *      * 

How  shall  we  account  for  two  philosophers  so  much 
alike  in  their  departure  from  objective  truth  and  separated 
from  each  other  by  a  century  and  a  half? 

The  explanation  is  not  far  to  seek.  They  both  were 
men  before  being  philosophers;  they  both  cared  for  the 
welfare  of  humanity  to  such  an  extent  that  they  could  not 
remain  impartial  in  their  attitude  towards  plain  truth  as 
the  latter  seemed  to  point  to  another  direction  than  the  one 
they  wanted,  and  which  would  always  be  in  full  agreement 
with  human  ethics.  And  each  lived  at  a  time  when  society 
was  threatened  by  scientific  theories  which  were  dangerous 
for  the  equilibrium  of  sound  moral  life  int  he  community : 
the  1 8th  century  was  facing  materialism;  our  epoch  is  fa- 
cing agnosticism.  Rousseau  and  James  both  felt  that  scien- 
tific truth  was  not  good  for  all,  that  it  could  easily  be  mis- 
interpreted byt  he  unprepared  minds  of  the  masses,  and 
they  proposed  pragmatism,  i.  e.,  to  subordinate  philosophy 
to  ethics,  to  identify  truthfulness  and  usefulness.  That  the 
intention  was  generous,  no  thoughtful  person  can  deny. 
Whether  the  method  is  commendable  is  another  question; 
but  it  is  not  my  intention  to  discuss  this  here.  I  would 
rather  end  by  asking  another  question. 

Are  Rousseau  and  James  themselves  satisfied  with  their 
theories  ? 

As  far  as  James  is  concerned  I  have  tried  to  answer  in 
my  book  in  the  chapter  called:  "Is  James  a  Pragmatist?" 


512  THE  MONIST. 

Moreover  I  have  discussed  above  his  pluralism  and  me- 
liorism; nobody  wilfully  admits  that  his  philosophy  lacks 
a  principle  of  unity;  James  needed  it  in  order  to  remain 
a  pragmatist. 

What  about  Rousseau?  I  doubt  whether  he  was  ever 
entirely  convinced  by  his  own  philosophy. 

As  early  as  the  time  when  he  wrote  his  first  "Discours" 
he  realized  the  difficulty  of  his  position  (see  the  last  pages 
of  it)  :  if  science  and  art  are  really  bad  for  civilization,  bad 
morally  for  nations,  then  one  ought  to  do  away  with  them. 
Rousseau  obstinately  refuses  to  draw  this  conclusion;  and 
after  several  attempts,  to  reconcile  things,  he  gives  this  as 
his  final  theory:  "When  people  are  corrupted  [as  we  are] 
it  is  better  that  they  should  be  educated  then  not  (savant 
qu'ignorants)  ;  when  they  are  good  it  is  to  be  feared  that 
science  will  corrupt  them"  (Letter  of  July  15,  1768).  Now 
this  cannot  be  understood  otherwise  than :  Prevent  people 
from  getting  corrupt  by  allowing  them  to  get  objective 
truth,  science  and  art;  but  once  they  are  corrupt,  it  is 
better  that  they  should  corrupt  themselves  more.... Of 
course  Rousseau  could  not  mean  that. 

Further,  I  should  like  to  call  attention  to  Rousseau's 
inconsistency,  when  he  maintains  that  botany,  which  is  a 
science  also,  ought  not  to  be  studied  for  merely  practical 
purposes.  At  the  end  of  his  life  especially  he  strongly 
objects  to  those  who  feel  like  asking  the  pragmatic  ques- 
tion :  A  quoi  cela  est-il  bonf,  who  study  plants  "only  with 
the  purpose  of  getting  drugs  and  remedies."  This  "dis- 
gusting prejudice"  is  especially  strong  in  France,  he  thinks : 
a  bel  esprit  of  Paris,  seeing  in  London  a  public  garden  full 
of  trees  and  rare  plants,  was  "barbarous"  enough  to  cry 
out  "in  matter  of  praise  these  words :  'Here  is  a  beautiful 
garden  for  an  apothecary !' '  As  to  himself  "all  this  phar- 
macy did  not  sully  his  enjoyment  of  the  country.1 

87  (Euvres,  IX,  pp.  375-6. 


"37 


ROUSSEAU,  A  FORERUNNER  OF  PRAGMATISM.  513 

Finally  I  refer  the  reader  to  the  third  Reverie,  where  in 
later  years  Rousseau  discusses  his  own  philosophy.  Among 
other  things  he  says :  "I  confess  that  I  did  not  solve  to  my 
satisfaction  all  the  difficulties  which  embarraassed  me,  and 
which  philosophers  constantly  opposed  to  us.  But  deter- 
mined to  reach  at  least  some  decision  in  matters  on  which 
human  intelligence  has  so  little  hold,  and  finding  every- 
where impenetrable  mysteries  and  unsolvable  objections, 
I  adopted  in  every  question  the  'sentiment'  which  apepared 
to  me  best  established  by  direct  data .  . .  . "  and  so  forth.38 

One  sees  that  there  might  be  room  for  a  chapter  "Was 
Rousseau  a  Pragmatist?"  corresponding  to  the  one  on 
James  discussing  the  same  question. 

ALBERT  SCHINZ. 

BRYN  MAWR  COLLEGE. 

88  CEuvres,  IX,  pp.  342-343- 


FERTILIZATION  AND  HYBRIDIZATION.1 

[English  Translation  by  Prof.  C.  Stuart  Gager,  University  of  Missouri.] 

"Vom  Vater  hab'  ich  die  Statur, 
Des  Lebens  ernstes  Fiihren, 
Vom  Miitterchen  die  Frohnatur 
Und  Lust  zu  fabuliren."2 

IN  these  lines  lies  the  whole  problem  of  heredity  and  fer- 
tilization. What  everybody  can  see,  Goethe  has  voiced 
clearly  and  concisely  in  beautiful,  simple  words.  We  have 
one  part  from  the  father,  the  other  from  the  mother.  Or, 
as  it  is  now  usually  put,  the  hereditary  characters  of  the 
two  parents  are  combined  in  the  offspring. 

It  became  the  problem  of  scientific  investigation  to  seek 
out  the  cause  of  this  phenomenon.  It  could  not  be  limited 
to  man.  The  law  mentioned  by  Goethe  must  be  general, 
it  must  be  true  of  the  entire  plant  and  animal  world,  wher- 
ever two  beings  unite  for  the  production  of  progeny. 
Furthermore  it  cannot  concern  ordinary  fertilizations  only, 
but  also  those  abnormal  cases  in  which  unlike  individuals, 
belonging  to  different  varieties  or  species,  fertilize  each 

1  The  paper,  read  in  Haarlem  in  the  Dutch  language,  appears  here  in  an 
enlarged  form.     My  conception  of  the  life-processes  in  the  nuclei  is  chiefly 
based  on  the  renowned  investigations  of  van  Beneden  and  of  Boveri,  as  well 
as  the  most  recent  researches  by  Conklin   (Contr.  Zool.  Lab.  Pennsylvania, 
XII,   1002),   Sutton    (Biol.  Bull.   IV,  Dec.,   1902),  Eisen,    (Journ.  Morphol. 
XVII,  i),  Errera  (Revue  Scientif.,  Feb.,  1903),  and  of  many  others.    For  the 
literature  I  refer  to  E.  B.  Wilson,  The  Cell  in  Development  and  Inheritance, 
and  V.  Hacker,  Praxis  und  Theorie  der  Zellen-  und  Befruchtungslehre. 

My  presentation  of  the  processes  of  fertilization  and  hybridization  is  an 
outcome  of  the  experiments  which  I  have  described  in  the  second  volume  of 
my  Mutationstheorie  (Leipsic,  Vert  &  Co.,  1901-1903.  English  translation  in 
preparation  by  Open  Court  Publishing  Co.)  H.  DE  V. 

2  Goethe,  "Sprikhe  in  Reimen,"  Gesammelte  Werke,  III,  83,  1871. 


FERTILIZATION  AND  HYBRIDIZATION.  515 

other.  The  products  of  such  crosses  we  call  hybrids,  and 
for  science  they  possess  the  great  importance  that,  in  them, 
the  manner  in  which  the  characteristics  of  the  parents  are 
combined,  can  be  studied  more  easily  and  clearly  than  in 
the  children  of  a  normal  union.  For,  the  more  the  parents 
differ  from  each  other,  with  the  greater  certainty  must  it 
be  possible  to  determine  the  share  of  each  in  the  character- 
istics of  the  offspring. 

Everywhere  this  law  is  confirmed,  that  the  child  in- 
herits one  part  of  its  nature  from  the  father,  the  other  from 
the  mother.  The  child  is,  therefore,  on  the  whole,  a  double 
being,  with  twofold  qualities,  more  or  less  distinctly  sep- 
arated, that  may  still  be  traced  back  to  their  origin.  This 
principle  of  duality,  as  we  might  call  it,  dominates  the 
entire  theory  of  heredity;  it  forms  the  thread  that  binds 
together  apparently  separated  cases;  it  serves  as  a  guid- 
ance for  the  whole  investigation. 

This  investigation  occupies  two  different  fields.  On 
the  one  hand  we  have  experimental  research,  on  the  other 
hand  microscopical.  Physiology  ascertains  the  relations 
of  the  offspring  to  their  parents;  it  analyzes  their  char- 
acteristics into  their  individual  units,  and  tries  to  demon- 
strate their  origin.  The  history  of  development  discloses 
to  us  the  corresponding  microscopic  processes;  it  looks 
for  the  smallest  visible  bearers  of  heredity  in  the  cell,  and 
investigates  how  they  are  maintained  during  life,  and  how, 
during  fertilization,  they  pass  on  from  father  and  mother 
to  the  offspring. 

Few  investigators  master  both  provinces;  their  extent 
is  much  too  great  for  that.  And  especially  has  the  study 
of  hybrids  so  greatly  advanced  in  recent  years,  that  even 
here  a  division  of  labor  will  soon  be  necessary.  Both  lines 
of  work  have  therefore  developed  more  or  less  indepen- 
dently of  each  other.  In  both,  the  main  features  of  the 
problem  begin  gradually  to  arise  out  of  the  abundance  of 


5l6  THE  MONIST. 

individual  phenomena.  And  thereby  there  is  disclosed, 
one  might  almost  say,  beyond  all  expectation,  an  agree- 
ment in  the  results  -of  both  lines  of  investigation,  which 
is  so  great,  that  almost  everywhere  the  physiological  pro- 
cesses are  reflected  in  the  microscopically  visible  changes. 

It  is  true  that  the  final  analysis  lies  yet  beyond  the 
limits  of  our  present  microscopical  vision.  Compared  with 
the  enormous  complexity  of  the  hereditary  characters  of 
the  organisms  the  anatomical  structure  of  the  cells  and 
their  nuclei,  as  it  is  known  to  us,  is  much  too  simple.  The 
individual  traits  of  father  and  mother  can  not  yet  be  found 
in  the  cells  of  the  offspring,  but  the  investigations  of  most 
recent  times  indicate  clearly  that  here  also  the  limits  of 
knowledge  are  being  constantly  extended. 

The  double  nature  of  all  beings  that  have  sprung  into 
existence  through  fertilization,  is  seen  in  their  external 
appearance,  as  well  as  in  the  finest  structure  of  their  nu- 
clei. The  principle  of  duality  obtains  everywhere,  even  if, 
in  individual  cases,  the  demonstration  of  it  is  yet  in  its  be- 
ginnings. But  as  far  as  the  visible  marks  can  be  analyzed 
and  the  individual  component  parts  of  the  nuclei  can  be 
traced,  so  far  can  the  validity  of  the  principle  be  proven 
even  at  present. 

Let  us  consider  first  the  external  part,  then  the  internal. 

Goethe  derived  his  stature  from  his  father,  and  not 
from  his  mother,  and  it  was  not  a  stature  between  the 
two.  The  sum  total  of  his  qualities  he  had  partly  from  his 
father,  partly  from  his  mother.  The  illustration  explains 
the  rule  in  a  clear  manner.  In  the  offspring  the  characters 
of  the  parents  are  combined.  Not  always  does  the  child  get 
an  even  half  from  each;  on  the  contrary,  as  everybody 
knows,  it  resembles  the  mother  more  in  some  respects, 
and  the  father  more  in  others. 

It  is  exactly  the  same  with  hybrids.  With  them  a  single 
character  is  generally  derived  either  from  the  father  or 


FERTILIZATION  AND  HYBRIDIZATION.  517 

from  the  mother.  The  hybrids  of  white  and  blue  flowers 
usually  bloom  blue,  those  of  a  hairy  or  a  thorny  parent 
crossed  by  one  without  hairs  or  thorns  are  usually  hairy 
or  thorny.  The  crossing  of  a  common  evening-primrose 
with  a  large-flowered  species  results  in  a  flower  of  the 
size  of  the  former.  But,  if  there  are  two  or  more  points 
of  difference  they  may  be  transmitted  to  the  children  partly 
by  the  one  parent  and  partly  by  the  other,  and  it  is  thereby 
possible  in  practice  to  combine  the  good  characters  of  two 
varieties  into  a  single  race.  Thus  has  Rimpau  created  a 
series  of  hybrid-races  of  wheat,  and  Lemoine  has  produced 
his  large-blooming  sword-lilies,  able  to  withstand  the  win- 
ter, and  thus  have  originated,  in  agriculture  and  horti- 
culture, the  countless  hybrids,  in  which  the  favorable  char- 
acteristics of  various  varieties  are  combined  with  more 
or  less  diversity.  Combined,  or  as  we  usually  say,  mixed ; 
though  this  is  an  expression  which  makes  us  only  too  easily 
lose  sight  of  the  independence  ot  the  individual  factors  in 
the  mixture. 

This  independence  is  frequently  difficult  to  demonstrate 
in  the  mixtures,  that  is,  in  the  characteristics  of  the  hy- 
brids. Our  means  of  differentiation  only  too  frequently 
prove  insufficient.  In  the  clear  cases,  however,  it  appears 
very  distinctly,  and  the  greater  the  number  of  hybrids  that 
are  studied  accurately  and  thoroughly,  the  more  generally 
is  the  validity  of  the  principle  established. 

If,  for  example,  we  find  combined  in  a  wheat-hybrid, 
the  loose  ear  of  the  mother-plant,  with  the  lack  of  awns 
in  the  father,  the  share  of  each  appears  simple  and  clear. 
In  the  mixture  of  the  characteristics  these  two  are  so  far 
apart,  that  they  are  always  easily  recognized.  How  are 
such  characters  united  in  the  hybrid  ?  Are  they  fused  into 
one  whole,  or  do  they  simply  lie  loosely  side  by  side? 

The  splittings,  which  occur  regularly  in  many  hybrids, 
when  propagated  by  seed,  but  also,  in  the  case  of  a  few,  in 


5l8  THE  MONIST. 

vegetative  propagation,  give  us  an  answer  to  this  ques- 
tion. Of  the  last  kind  the  Cytisus  Adami  serves  as  the 
most  beautiful  and  striking  instance.  It  is  a  hybrid  be- 
tween C.  Laburnum  and  C.  purpureus,  unfortunately  its 
great  significance  for  the  main  features  of  the  whole  prob- 
lem has  been  underrated  for  a  long  time  owing  to  the 
fable  of  its  having  originated  as  a  graft.  As  a  matter  of 
fact  no  hybrids  are  obtained  by  grafting,  no  matter  how 
great  the  mutual  influence  of  the  wild  stock  and  the  crown 
graft.  As  far  as  historical  evidence  goes,  the  Cytisus 
Adami  has  always  been  propagated  by  grafts  since  its  first 
appearance,  but  it  did  not  originally  spring  into  existence 
in  this  way. 

This  tree  teaches  us  how  the  qualities  of  the  two  pa- 
rents are  combined.  Ordinarily  they  occur  mixed,  the 
leaves  as  well  as  the  flowers  having  some  features  of  the 
Laburnum  and  others  of  the  purpureus.  The  totality  of 
the  characters  lies,  therefore  midway  between  the  two  pa- 
rents. But  splittings  do  occur,  and  not  at  all  rarely,  or 
rather  so  commonly,  that  indeed  every  specimen  of  the 
hybrid,  if  not  too  small,  will  show  them.  In  these  split- 
tings the  types  of  father  and  mother  separate  sharply  and 
completely.  Some  twigs  will  grow  that  are  purely  La- 
burnum, while  others  are  only  purpureus.  The  former  are 
vigorous  and  long-lived,  the  latter  remain  weak  and  often 
die  after  a  few  years,  which  is  the  reason  for  their  being 
seen  less  frequently.  But  even  in  this  point  they  resemble 
exactly  the  respective  parents. 

Within  the  hybrid,  the  bearers  of  the  parental  charac- 
ters are  therefore  arranged  in  such  a  manner  that,  so  to 
speak,  they  can  be  completely  separated,  at  any  moment, 
by  a  simple  cut.  And,  if  not  by  a  simple  cut,  then  at  least 
by  a  physiological  splitting,  which  passes  exactly  between 
the  two  parental  groups  and  does  not  leave  in  one  of  them 
any  trace  of  the  other. 


FERTILIZATION  AND  HYBRIDIZATION.  5IQ 

In  this  manner  we  have  to  picture  to  ourselves,  in  a 
general  way,  the  internal,  invisible  structure  of  the  hy- 
brids. The  bearers  of  the  characters  of  both  parents  are 
intimately  connected,  and  together  dominate  the  visible 
characteristics.  But  they  are  not,  by  any  means,  fused 
into  a  new  indivisible  entity.  They  form  twins,  but  re- 
main separable  for  life. 

In  all  nature  there  is  probably  not  another  such  beauti- 
ful instance  of  splitting  as  the  above-mentioned  Cytisus. 
But  with  lesser  differences  between  the  parents,  splittings 
of  the  parental  types  occur  frequently  in  the  vegetative  life 
of  hybrids.  Many  horticultural  plants,  and  especially  the 
bulbous  plants,  furnish  instances  thereof ;  peas,  corn,  wood- 
sorrel,  anagallis,  oranges,  and  several  others  are  known 
instances.  The  fruits  that  are  half  lemon  and  half  orange, 
belong  doubtless  to  this  group.  Among  the  hybrids  of  the 
common  and  the  thornless  thornapple  (Datura  Stramo- 
nium'), individuals  have  been  found,  although  very  rarely, 
that  showed  a  similar  splitting,  and  which  even  bore  on 
the  same  fruit,  armed,  as  well  as  thornless  cells.  In  my 
garden,  I  cultivated,  for  many  years,  a  Veronica  longi- 
folia  which  was  a  hybrid  from  the  blue  species  and  the 
white  variety,  and  correspondingly  had  blue  flowers.  But 
from  time  to  time  splittings  occurred  either  one  single 
spike  bloomed  white,  or  a  few  isolated  white  flowers  ap- 
peared on  an  otherwise  blue  spike. 

During  the  entire  life,  up  to  the  time  of  the  formation 
of  the  reproductive  cells  this  internal  dualism  manifests 
itself  in  this  way.  Sometimes  proofs  of  it  are  even  found 
in  the  anatomical  structure  of  the  tissues,  and  of  the  indi- 
vidual cells,  where  the  parental  characters  are  set  free  and 
a  mosaic-like  structure  results. 

Macfarlane,  who  has  made  the  most  thorough  study 
of  the  anatomical  structure  of  hybrids,  recognizes  every- 
where the  principle  of  duality,  and  goes  so  far  as  to  regard 


THE  MONIST. 

every  individual  vegetative  cell  of  a  hybrid  as  a  hermaphro- 
dite formation.  And  the  renowned  French  investigator 
of  hybrids,  Naudin,  also  expressed  himself  about  forty 
years  ago  in  a  similar  manner.  "L'hybride  est  une  ino- 
saique  vivante,"  said  he ;  we  do  not  recognize  the  individual 
parts  as  long  as  they  remain  intimately  blended,  but  occa- 
sionally they  separate  and  then  we  are  able  to  distinguish 
them. 

We  therefore  regard  it  as  established  that,  in  the  chil- 
dren, the  inheritances  from  the  fathers  and  mothers  are 
indeed  combined,  but  not  fused  into  a  new  entity.  Acting 
always  conjointly  under  ordinary  circumstances,  they  yet 
do  not  lose  the  power  of  separating  occasionally. 

But  now  arises  the  question  as  to  what  is  anatomically 
visible  of  this  union.  Can  the  dualistic  formation  be  ob- 
served within  the  cell  ?  Do  the  parental  inheritances,  here 
too,  lie  side  by  side  as  twins? 

The  hereditary  characters  are  contained  in  the  nuclei, 
as  was  first  declared  by  Haeckel,  and  later  demonstrated 
by  O.  Hertwig,  and,  for  plants,  by  Strasburger.  This  im- 
portant law  forms,  for  the  present,  the  basis  of  the  whole 
anatomical  theory  of  heredity,  and  is  recognized  as  such 
by  all  investigators.  We  may,  therefore,  expect  to  find  in 
the  nuclei,  as  well,  the  dualism  of  the  parental  qualities. 

Every  cell,  as  a  rule,  possesses  a  nucleus.  This  nucleus 
dominates  the  life-activity,  and  although  the  current  func- 
tions can  run  their  courses  without  it,  no  new  ones  can  be 
introduced.  In  certain  filamentous  algae  (Spirogyra)  Ge- 
rassimow  succeeded  in  producing  cells  without  nuclei ;  they 
retained  life  for  several  weeks,  feeding  vigorously,  but 
nevertheless  they  always  perished  without  any  reproduc- 
tion. In  some  tissue-cells  the  nucleus  is  constantly  in  mo- 
tion, and  according  to  Haberlandt's  investigations,  it  stops 
longest  where  the  work  of  the  cell  is  most  pronounced  for 


FERTILIZATION  AND  HYBRIDIZATION.  521 

the  time  being,  as  for  instance  in  unilateral  growth,  the 
formation  of  hair,  local  accumulation  of  chlorophyll  etc. 
This  concentration  of  hereditary  characters  is  most 
distinctly  seen  in  the  sexual  cells.  Here  the  other  func- 
tions are  reduced  to  a  minimum.  The  nucleus  dominates 
completely.  In  the  male  sperms  the  activity  of  the  proto- 
plasm is  limited  to  moving  around  and  to  seeking  the  fe- 
male cells.  The  body  is  made  up  almost  entirely  of  the 
nucleus.  In  the  higher  plants  the  spermatozoids  lack  even 
the  organs  of  free  motion ;  they  are  carried  to  the  egg-cell 
passively,  in  the  pollen-tubes.  The  egg-cells  are  usually 
immovable  and  heavy  in  comparison  with  the  male  ele- 
ments, since  they  contain  the  food  substance  necessary  for 
the  incipient  growth  of  the  germ,  and  for  the  first  cell- 
divisions. 

Now  fertilization  consists  in  the  union  of  two  cells,  the 
male  spermatozoid  and  the  female  egg-cell.  This  union 
is  the  means  of  combining  the  inheritance  of  the  two  par- 
ents, and  therefore  the  nuclei  play  the  main  roles.  The  nu- 
cleus of  the  egg-cell  lies  usually  in  its  center ;  the  male  nu- 
cleus reaches  it  by  passing  straight  through  the  surround- 
ing plasm.  Sometimes  one  sees  quite  distinctly  that  it  no 
longer  needs  its  own  protoplasm  since  it  strips  it  off  and 
leaves  it  at  the  border  of  the  egg-cell.  In  the  Cycadaceae, 
in  which  the  spermatozoa  are  just  large  enough  to  be  dis- 
cernible with  the  naked  eye,  the  cytoplasm  with  all  its  cilia 
remains  in  the  outer  layers  of  the  egg-cell,  while  only  the 
nucleus  penetrates  more  deeply.  The  beautiful  investiga- 
tions of  Webber  and  Ikeno  have  brought  this  process  to 
light. 

Finally  the  two  nuclei  come  into  contact  and  unite  into  a 
single  body.  This  is  the  most  important  moment  of  fertili- 
zation, the  whole  physiological  process  is  concluded  by  this 
union. 

Let  us  ask  now  what  has  been  achieved  by  it.    Appar- 


522  THE  MONIST. 

ently  very  little,  for  the  two  parental  nuclei  are  only  closely 
appressed  to  each  other.  A  penetration  or  fusion  of  their 
substance  does  not  take  place.  They  remain  separate  in 
spite  of  the  union.  With  fertilization  the  life  of  the  new 
germ  begins,  and  in  most  cases  immediately.  Originally 
a  single  cell,  the  germ  soon  divides  into  two  and  then  into 
more  cells.  But  this  beginning  of  the  vegetative  life  takes 
place  everywhere  before  the  two  parental  nuclei  have  en- 
tered into  closer  union.  Only  after  the  first  division  does 
the  limit  become  unrecognizable,  the  contact  of  the  con- 
stituent parts  of  the  male  and  female  halves  being  now  so 
intimate  that  there  is  at  least  the  appearance  of  a  fusion. 

It  was  the  Belgian  investigator,  van  Beneden,  who  dis- 
covered this  all-controlling  fact.  He  first  observed  the  in- 
dependence of  the  paternal  and  the  maternal  nuclei  in  the 
intestinal  worm,  Ascaris,  then  elsewhere  in  the  animal 
kingdom,  and  immediately  recognized  its  significance.  Since 
life  could  begin  without  fusion  of  the  two  nuclei,  he  con- 
sidered that  such  a  thing  was  not  necessary,  and  assumed 
that  all  through  life  the  two  nuclei  preserve  their  inde- 
pendence more  or  less  completely. 

According  to  this  view  the  nuclei  are  double  beings, 
and  we  thus  find,  in  the  material  bearers  of  the  hereditary 
characters,  the  duality  of  which  Goethe  sang  in  his 
"Spruche  in  Reimen,"  and  which  the  splittings  of  hybrids 
put  so  clearly  before  our  eyes.  Van  Beneden  chose  the 
name  pronuclei  for  the  male  and  the  female  nuclei  that  are 
thus  united,  and  speaks  of  a  pronucleus  male  and  a  pronu- 
cleus  femelle.  This  designation  has  been  retained  since 
that  time,  and  recommends  itself  especially  for  the  reason 
that  the  union  of  the  two  nuclei  is  usually  simply  called 
the  nucleus  of  the  cell;  and  this  latter  designation  will 
probably  not  be  changed,  although  the  double  nature  of 
the  nucleus  is  recognized.  Therefore  the  pronuclei  are 


FERTILIZATION  AND  HYBRIDIZATION.  523 

the  entities  that  concern  us;  the  nuclei  are  really  double 
nuclei. 

If  the  border  line  between  the  two  pronuclei  remained 
as  distinct  through  life  as  before  the  first  cleavage  and  at 
the  time  of  it,  van  Beneden's  view  would  hardly  meet  with 
any  difficulty.  But  this  is  not  so.  Gradually  the  line  of  de- 
marcation becomes  blurred,  and  in  most  cases  nothing 
more  is  to  be  seen  of  it  in  later  life.  But  the  richness  of 
forms  in  nature  is  fortunately  so  great  that  the  general 
phenomena  in  different  organisms  appear  to  us  with  an 
extremely  varied  distinctness.  And  thus  it  is  also  here. 
In  one  species  the  border  line  of  the  pronuclei  is  lost  sooner, 
in  others  later.  It  is  only  a  case  of  finding  the  best  illus- 
trations, that  is,  of  selecting  a  species  in  which  the  paternal 
and  the  maternal  inheritances  remain  longest  visibly  sep- 
arate. 

The  discovery  of  such  instances  is  the  great  merit  of 
Riickert  and  Hacker.  In  the  one-eyed  water-flea  of  our 
fresh  waters,  the  well-known  Cyclops  vulgaris,  and  its  near- 
est allies,  they  found  a  group  of  animals  in  which  the 
pronuclei  remained  distinctly  separate  for  a  long  time. 
Sometimes  during  several  consecutive  cell-divisions,  some- 
times for  a  longer  period,  and,  in  the  best  cases,  during  al- 
most the  entire  vegetative  life,  the  double  nature  of  the 
nuclei  can  here  be  directly  seen.  What  van  Beneden  con- 
cluded from  the  incipient  stages  was  here  irrefutably 
proven. 

The  double  nature  of  the  nuclei  was  also  demonstrated 
more  or  less  distinctly,  and  during  a  shorter  or  longer  se- 
ries of  cell-divisions,  in  other  cases,  by  other  investigators. 
It  was  observed  in  Toxopneusthes  by  Fol,  in  Siredon  by 
Kolliker,  in  Artemia  by  Brauer,  in  Myzostoma  by  Wheeler, 
in  the  Axolotl  by  Bellonci.  These  and  numerous  other 
observations  now  place  the  law  quite  beyond  a  doubt.  The 
independence  or  autonomy  of  the  pronuclei  corresponds 


524  THE  MONIST. 

everywhere  with  the  mode  of  union  of  the  visible  parental 
characters  in  the  offspring. 

In  the  snail-genus  Crepidula,  Conklin  recently  discov- 
ered a  case  in  which  the  double  nature  of  the  nuclei  can 
be  demonstrated  perhaps  even  more  clearly  and  easily 
than  in  the  Cyclops.  If  the  two  nuclei  remain  side  by  side 
all  through  life,  the  question  arises  as  to  how  they  dominate 
together  the  development  of  the  child,  the  unfolding  of 
its  characteristics.  Here,  too,  the  results  of  physiology 
and  of  anatomy  work  beautifully  together,  and  here  too, 
Goethe's  lines  serve  as  a  guide.  Certain  peculiarities  are 
inherited  from  the  father,  others  from  the  mother.  One 
individual  inherits  them  in  this,  another  in  that  mixture. 
The  inheritance  therefore  consists  of  separate  qualities, 
which  may  be  united  in  various  combinations  in  the  off- 
spring. We  are  taught  the  very  same  thing  by  hybrids, 
especially  in  their  progeny,  and  the  rich  floral  splendor  of 
our  horticultural  plants  shows  us  what  an  endless  number 
of  combination-types  has  already  been  achieved  with  com- 
paratively few  characteristics. 

But  we  shall  not  yet  leave  the  subject  of  the  nuclei. 
The  independence  of  all  the  hidden  potentialities,  which 
in  the  physiological  field  is  most  sharply  defined  in  the 
theory  of  pangenesis,  we  can  of  course  not  hope  to  see  re- 
flected in  the  nuclei.  We  must,  at  least  for  the  present,  be 
satisfied  to  find  here  any  independent  parts  in  the  nuclei. 

It  was  well  known  to  the  older  investigators,  and, 
among  botanists,  especially  to  Hofmeister,  that  the  nuclei 
are  not  structureless  formations,  but  that  they  exhibit  more 
or  less  distinctly  certain  internal  organs.  But  only  about 
a  quarter  of  a  century  ago  by  means  of  better  methods  of 
investigation  did  Flemming  in  the  zoological  field,  and 
Strasburger  in  the  botanical,  succeed  in  getting  a  deeper 
insight  into  this  structure,  and  soon  afterwards  Roux 
showed  how  these  achievements  are  entirely  in  harmony 


FERTILIZATION  AND  HYBRIDIZATION.  525 

with  the  requirements  of  the  theory  of  heredity.  Since 
then,  numerous  investigations  have  confirmed  and  ex- 
tended these  results,  and  especially  has  Boveri  brought 
out  the  main  features  in  the  wide  range  of  phenomena. 
To  him  we  owe  the  principle  of  the  independence  of  the  in- 
dividual visible  component  parts  of  the  nuclei,  a  principle, 
which,  in  spite  of  much  opposition,  is  more  and  more 
strongly  supported,  and  which  has  found  in  the  most  recent 
studies  of  Sutton  a  brilliant  confirmation. 

What  Boveri's  theory  offers  us  is,  in  the  main  points, 
as  follows:  All  the  bearers  of  hereditary  characters  lie  in 
the  protoplasm  of  the  nucleus,  in  the  nuclear  sap,  as  it  is 
usually  called,  as  definite  particles,  which  can  be  brought 
out  by  various  methods  as  distinctly  recognizable  parts, 
and  which  are  combined  into  threads.  It  is  true  that  one 
cannot  see  the  individual  bearers,  because  there  are  too 
many  of  them  and  they  are  too  small.  Even  a  counting  of 
the  smallest  visible  granules  succeeds  only  rarely.  In  the 
nuclei  of  an  American  salamander,  Batrachoseps,  the  mem- 
bers of  the  nuclear  threads  are  most  distinct;  at  least 
Gustav  Eisen  succeeded  in  making  an  approximate  count 
of  the  smallest  visible  granules.  In  every  pronucleus  they 
form  12  chief  parts,  the  so-called  chromosomes.  Every 
chromosome  showed  as  a  rule  a  subdivision  into  six  sec- 
tions or  chromomeres,  and  every  chromomere,  in  turn, 
appears  again  to  be  built  up  of  six  smallest  granules,  the 
chromioles.  All  in  all  there  are  here  then  about  400  dis- 
tinguishable particles  in  the  individual  pronucleus.  The 
number  of  hereditary  characters  must  certainly  be  much 
higher  than  400  for  such  an  organism;  it  would  more 
likely  have  to  be  estimated  at  ten  times  that  value.  We 
must  therefore  be  satisfied,  for  the  present,  with  the  ob- 
servation of  groups  of  units  in  the  nuclei. 

In  the  end  there  will  surely  be  found  a  way  of  seeing 
the  individual  units  also.  But  the  resolving  power  of  our 


526  THE  MONIST. 

microscope  will  finally  reach  its  limit,  and  we  shall  prob- 
ably never  be  able  to  see  much  smaller  granulations  than 
the  smallest  elements  that  are  visible  now.  So  far,  even 
the  causes  of  many  contagious  diseases,  in  plants  as  well 
as  in  animals,  are  still  quite  invisible.  But  the  calculations 
which  Errera  has  lately  made  on  the  limits  of  the  smallness 
of  organisms  still  allow  us  full  play.  In  Micrococcus  he 
finds  a  structure  composed  of  about  30,000  protein  mole- 
cules, but  many  nuclei  are  much  larger.  It  can  not  yet  be 
estimated  of  how  many  molecules  a  whole  nuclear  thread 
is  composed,  but  it  may  be  assumed  with  certainty  that  not 
every  one  of  its  granules  has  such  a  complicated  structure 
that  it  could  hold  the  factors  for  all  peculiarities  of  the 
whole  organism.  Their  smallness  would  rather  lead  us  to 
suppose  that  every  one  of  them  could,  at  the  most,  represent 
only  a  small  group  of  such  units. 

To  prove  this,  on  the  one  hand  microscopically,  on  the 
other  hand  experimentally,  is  the  task  that  Boveri  set  for 
himself. 

The  filamentous  framework  in  most  nuclei,  recogniz- 
able by  certain  staining  methods,  is  now  admitted  by  all 
investigators  as  the  idioplasm,  the  bearer  of  the  hereditary 
qualities.  This  thread  is  very  delicate,  and  seems  to  form 
a  skein.  But  when  the  nucleus  prepares  to  divide,  the 
thread  contracts,  and  thereby  is  seen,  what  had  hitherto 
been  invisible,  that  it  is  composed  of  several  separate 
threads.  In  the  nucleus  there  are  several  threads  and  not 
one  single  one.  When  the  contraction  of  the  thread  is 
advanced  so  far  that  the  individual  parts  have  become 
quite  short  and  thick,  they  are  called  chromosomes.  In 
the  nuclei  of  the  body-cells  these  always  occur  in  an  even 
number,  one-half  belonging  to  the  paternal,  the  other  to 
the  maternal  pronucleus. 

In  a  series  of  classical  investigations  Boveri  succeeded 
in  showing  that  the  individual  chromosomes,  on  elongating 


FERTILIZATION  AND  HYBRIDIZATION.  527 

again,  when  the  division  is  accomplished,  retain  their  in- 
dependence. They  remain  the  same  during  their  whole 
life,  elongating  and  shortening  alternately  throughout 
their  entire  development.  The  purpose  of  the  shortening 
is  to  make  possible  an  even  division  of  all  parts  during 
cell-division;  the  threads  then  split  lengthwise,  in  such  a 
way  that  every  single  bearer  of  heredity  first  doubles,  and 
then  sends  the  two  halves  into  the  daughter-nuclei.  This, 
of  course,  could  hardly  be  accomplished  in  a  skein.  On  the 
other  hand  elongation  has  for  its  object  the  freeing  of  the 
bearers  of  heredity  from  that  crowded  accumulation,  their 
task  being  to  control  and  to  direct  the  life  functions  of  the 
cell,  and  to  that  end  they  must  be  able  to  enter  into  as 
free  a  contact  as  possible  with  the  granular  plasm.  An 
arrangement  in  rows,  at  least  of  those  bearers  that  are  to 
become  active,  is  the  necessary  condition  thereto,  and  it  is 
evidently  reached  by  means  of  the  elongation  of  the  threads 
and  the  formation  of  the  skein. 

In  order  to  make  possible  an  orderly  retreat  of  the  in- 
dividual threads  out  of  the  tangle  of  the  skein,  every  thread 
is  firmly  attached  by  one  end  to  the  nuclear  wall.  It  re- 
treats to  this  point,  which  is  at  the  same  time  the  point  at 
which  its  two  halves,  during  cell-division,  are  pulled  apart 
after  the  splitting.  The  whole  regularity  of  the  process 
would  be  hard  to  explain  without  this  firm  implantation 
of  the  individual  nuclear  threads,  as  demonstrated  by  Bo- 
veri.  Where  the  nuclei  are  sinuate  and  the  nuclear  threads 
are  attached  in  the  individual  curves,  the  conditions  are 
specially  clear. 

In  a  species  of  locust,  Brachystola  magnet,  Sutton  found 
the  same  implantations  of  the  nuclear  threads  on  the  curves 
of  the  nucleus.  But  here  every  thread,  of  which  there  are 
eleven  in  every  pronucleus,  forms  a  skein  after  the  cell- 
division.  These  skeins  of  one  and  the  same  nucleus  remain 
separated  from  each  other  for  a  long  time,  and  the  inde- 


528  THE  MONIST. 

pendence  of  the  chromosomes  can  hence  be  directly  demon- 
strated, even  at  the  stage  of  the  skein.  This  locust  has 
also  proven  very  instructive  in  another  point  of  Button's 
studies. 

In  general,  one  finds  the  individual  chromosomes  to  be 
of  unequal  length  in  the  most  various  nuclei.  But,  in  the 
species  of  locust  mentioned,  this  length  occurs  in  such  a 
characteristic  manner  that  the  chromosomes  can  be  easily 
recognized  in  the  successive  cell-divisions.  The  pictures 
taken  at  the  successive  stages  allow  one  to  follow  up,  with- 
out difficulty,  the  identity  of  the  short  and  thick  nuclear 
threads.  In  doing  so  one  sees  that,  in  the  double  nuclei, 
the  nuclear  threads  lie  in  pairs,  that  is,  that  there  are  two 
nuclear  threads  of  each  individual  length.  Evidently  these 
belong  together  in  such  a  manner,  that  in  every  pair  one 
thread  belongs  to  the  paternal  and  one  to  the  maternal 
pronucleus.  A  border  line  between  them  is  nowhere  to  be 
seen,  and  yet  their  independence  is  very  evident.  And 
this  harmonizes  with  the  conception,  as  detailed  above, 
that,  according  to  the  species  examined,  this  limit  can  be 
observed  for  a  longer  or  shorter  time. 

Microscopic  examinations  teach  us,  then,  to  recognize 
the  independence  of  the  two  pronuclei,  as  well  as  the  auton- 
omy of  the  individual  nuclear  threads  or  chromosomes 
during  the  development  of  the  entire  body.  The  agree- 
ment of  this  observation  with  the  phenomena  of  heredity 
may  be  considered  as  fully  established. 

But  it  is  another  question  whether  the  individual  chro- 
mosomes correspond  also  to  special  groups  of  hereditary 
characters,  or,  in  other  words,  whether  the  bearers  of  the 
latter  are  strictly  localized  in  the  nuclear  threads.  This 
question  can  obviously  be  answered  only  physiologically. 
It  amounts  to  a  decision  as  to  whether,  if  definite  chromo- 
somes, or  definite  parts  in  them,  as  for  example,  single 
chromomeres  and  chromioles,  were  wanting,  definite  ex- 


FERTILIZATION  AND  HYBRIDIZATION.  529 

ternal  characters  of  the  organism  would  also  be  lacking. 
If  it  were  possible  to  kill  a  nuclear  granule  without  other- 
wise injuring  the  germ,  what  would  be  the  consequences? 

Engelmann  has  taught  us,  in  his  revolutionizing  in- 
vestigation on  the  activity  of  the  individual  chlorophyll 
grains,  how  the  focal  point  of  a  lens  can  be  moved  over 
the  field  of  a  microscopic  preparation,  thereby  lighting 
up  quite  small  portions  of  a  cell,  and  how  these  portions 
can  thereby  also  be  heated,  and  in  that  way  killed.  If  a 
part  of  a  nuclear  thread  could  be  killed  in  this  way,  the 
externally  visible  consequences  would  certainly  allow  us  to 
draw  conclusions  on  the  relations  of  this  part  to  the  hered- 
itary characters.  Perhaps  an  analysis  of  heredity  can 
some  day  be  made  by  this  method,  but  the  technique  is  not 
yet  sufficiently  advanced  for  this  purpose. 

However,  there  is  another  means  of  removing  individ- 
ual chromosomes,  and  this  again  we  owe  to  the  classical 
investigations  of  Boveri.  He  found  it  in  abnormal  proces- 
ses of  fertilization  as  they  occur  at  times  in  eggs  of  sea- 
urchins  and  star-fish,  and  it  can  be  quite  easily  produced 
artificially.  It  would  lead  too  far  from  the  main  question 
to  go  into  details  here.  The  important  point  for  our  pur- 
pose is  that,  by  certain  interferences,  a  fertilization  of  one 
egg  with  two  spermatozoa  can  be  achieved.  This  process 
of  dispermia  leads  in  the  nucleus  of  the  germ,  not  to  a 
double,  but  to  a  triple  number  of  chromosomes.  In  the 
successive  divisions  the  conditions  become  correspondingly 
intricate,  and  almost  any  imaginable  abnormal  number  of 
chromosomes  occurs.  Nevertheless,  the  germs  develop  in 
some  cases,  and  then  show  deviations  from  the  normal  type 
which  allow  a  recognition  of  their  normal  relations  to  the 
structure  of  their  nuclei.  Without  doubt  the  germs  can, 
in  every  case,  develop  only  those  qualities  the  representa- 
tives of  which  happened  to  be  preserved  in  their  nuclei. 

We  shall  leave  the  nuclear  threads,  at  present,  and 


53O  THE  MONIST. 

return  to  the  two  pronuclei.  We  saw  them  intimately  com- 
bined during  the  entire  development  of  the  body.  Now  the 
question  arises  as  to  how  long  this  union  persists.  And 
since  the  double  nuclei  of  the  body  originated  during  fer- 
tilization, it  is  evident  that  the  conjugating  cells  must  have 
single  nuclei,  and  therefore  that  the  separation  of  the  pro- 
nuclei  must  take  place  at  the  origination  of  these  cells. 

This  fact  is  now  so  generally  established,  for  animals 
as  well  as  for  plants,  that  it  may  be  regarded  as  one  of 
the  strongest  foundations  of  the  whole  theory  of  fertiliza- 
tion. Wherever  it  is  possible  to  count  the  chromosomes, 
we  find  in  the  somatic  cells  twice  as  many  as  in  the  sexual 
cells.  The  former  contain  double  nuclei,  the  latter  single 
nuclei,  or  pronuclei. 

The  sexual  cells  in  animals  originate  directly  from  the 
somatic  cells,  but  in  plants  there  is  more  or  less  prepara- 
tion. Correspondingly,  the  two  pronuclei  separate  in  ani- 
mals at  the  formation  of  the  egg-  and  sperm-cells,  but  in 
the  case  of  plants  before  that.  In  the  seed-bearing  plants 
it  is  the  period  of  the  origination  of  the  mother-cells  of  the 
pollen  and  of  the  embryo-sacs.  Therefore  all  cell-genera- 
tions which  appear  after  this  moment,  and  up  to  the  final 
production  of  the  egg-cells  in  the  embryo-sac,  and  of  the 
sperm-cells  in  the  pollen-grains  and  their  tubes,  possess 
only  pronuclei.  Such  cells  are  called  sexual,  and  the  pe- 
riod of  their  formation  the  sexual  generation.  In  ferns  the 
entire  life-period  of  the  prothallium  lies  between  the  origi- 
nation of  the  sexual  cells  and  the  appearance  of  the  egg- 
and  sperm-cells.  This  small  plantlet,  though  built  up  of 
hundreds  of  cells  possesses,  therefore,  as  Strasburger  has 
demonstrated,  only  pronuclei.  The  alternation  of  the  sex- 
ual prothallia  and  the  asexual  fern-plant  is  called  the  alter- 
nation of  generations ;  the  two  generations  are  hence  dis- 
tinguished from  each  other  fundamentally  by  their  nuclei, 
which  in  the  leafy  plants  are  always  double  nuclei,  and  in 


FERTILIZATION  AND  HYBRIDIZATION.  53! 

the  prothallia  always  pronuclei.  This  difference  is  so  con- 
stant that  one  feels  almost  inclined  to  call  the  pronuclei 
prothallial  nuclei. 

At  the  moment  when  the  two  pronuclei  separate,  single 
nuclei  appear  in  place  of  the  double  nuclei,  and  the  double 
number  of  nuclear  threads  is  thereby  reduced  to  a  single 
one.  This  process  is  usually  called  the  numerical  reduc- 
tion of  the  chromosomes;  but  this  imposing  name  means 
nothing  but  the  separation  of  two  nuclei  which  had  so  far 
worked  together  for  a  period.  It  is  like  the  parting  of  two 
persons  who  have  walked  along  together  for  a  while,  and 
will  be  looking  for  other  companionship  presently.  And 
this  they  achieve  by  fertilization. 

This  parting  has  been  minutely  studied  by  numerous 
investigators.  It  has  the  appearance  of  a  nuclear  divi- 
sion of  a  very  special  nature,  and  is  frequently  called  the 
reduction-division,  or  heterotypic  nuclear  division.  It  is 
necessarily  accompanied  by  a  cell-division,  since  the  two 
separated  pronuclei  can  only  part  in  separate  cells,  but  this 
cell-division  does  not  always  follow  immediately,  but  only 
after  a  second  essentially  normal  division  of  the  nuclei. 
There  result,  in  that  case,  four  sister-cells  instead  of  the 
usual  two. 

Shortly  before  their  separation,  the  chromosomes  lie 
together  in  pairs,  always  one  in  the  paternal  pronucleus 
united  with  the  corresponding  thread  of  the  maternal  pro- 
nucleus.  They  are  placed  lengthwise  side  by  side.  Hence 
the  separation  evidently  occurs  by  a  longitudinal  line,  and, 
in  by  far  the  greatest  number  of  cases,  this  so-called  longi- 
tudinal splitting  of  the  chromosome-pairs  has  been  ob- 
served in  the  origination  of  the  pronuclei.  It  is  true  that 
this  does  not  always  succeed  at  a  first  glance,  and  it  is 
right  here  that  the  differences  of  opinion  between  different 
investigators  have  blurred  the  picture  for  a  long  time. 
But  gradually  it  was  discovered  that  there  are  a  number 


532  THE  MONIST. 

of  secondary  details  which  may  obscure  the  main  features, 
and  we  owe  it  chiefly  to  Strasburger  that  the  latter  stand 
out  clearly  in  the  plant-kingdom.  In  the  animal  kingdom, 
however,  there  is  still  a  series  of  cases  which  do  not  follow 
this  rule,  and  where  the  chromosomes  of  the  pronuclei  are 
not  placed  lengthwise  side  by  side  at  the  moment  of  sepa- 
ration, but  are  connected  at  one  end.  Hence  the  separa- 
tion here  takes  the  form  of  a  transverse  division.  Some 
insects  and  fresh-water  crabs,  some  molluscs  and  worms 
offer  the  best  known  instances,  but  according  to  the  most 
recent  studies  of  de  Sinety,  Cannon,  and  others,  the  assump- 
tion gains  ground  that  here  too  the  microscopic  pictures, 
on  closer  observation,  disclose  a  better  fitting  into  the 
otherwise  general  scheme.  It  is  also  possible  that,  after 
the  longitudinal  splitting,  the  nuclear  threads  still  remain 
connected  for  a  while  by  their  ends,  before  they  finally 
separate. 

The  male  and  the  female  sexual  cells  usually  originate 
in  separate  organs,  frequently  on  special  individuals.  This 
goes  to  show  that,  at  their  origination  from  the  body-cells, 
the  paternal  pronuclei  do  not  become  sperms  and  the  mater- 
nal ones  egg-cells.  On  the  contrary,  the  two  pronuclei  of  a 
mother-cell  in  the  ovary  can  become  egg-cells,  and  the 
two  pronuclei  of  a  pollen  mother-cell  can  both  give  rise, 
by  further  splitting,  to  the  formation  of  spermatozoids. 
Accordingly,  one-half  of  the  forming  sperms  gets  paternal 
or  now  grand-paternal  pronuclei,  and  the  other  half  grand- 
maternal.  The  same  is  true  of  the  egg-cells,  and  this  holds 
good  in  spite  of  the  circumstance  that,  in  consequence  of 
the  crowded  condition  of  the  ovaries,  the  larger  part  of 
the  female  cells  has  regularly  to  be  sacrificed  every  time.3 
Therefore  fertilization  may  result  in  offspring  with  pro- 
nuclei  from  the  grandfather  or  grandmother  only,  or  from 

8  The  reference  is  to  the  resorption  of  the  sister-cells  (when  such  occur) 
of  the  embryo-sac  mother-cell.  Tr. 


FERTILIZATION  AND  HYBRIDIZATION.  533 

both.  This  circumstance  may  not  be  without  significance 
in  considering  the  resemblance  between  grandparents  and 
grandchildren  among  men. 

But  it  is  not  by  any  means  decisive;  daily  experience 
teaches  that  not  only  in  a  part  of  the  progeny,  but  doubt- 
less in  all  the  offspring,  there  may  be  an  admixture  of  the 
characters  of  the  grand-parents  also.  This  indicates  that 
the  separation  of  the  pronuclei  is  not  of  as  simple  a  nature 
as  the  microscopic  pictures  might  lead  one  to  believe.  An- 
other process,  which,  until  now,  has  defied  detection,  must 
take  place,  probably  in  the  smallest,  but  to  us  invisible 
granules  of  the  nuclear  threads.  That  this  is  the  case  we 
learn  especially  from  the  processes  in  hybrids  and  their 
propagation.  Here,  splittings  and  new  combinations  of 
the  characteristics  of  the  grand-parents  occur  in  appar- 
ently incalculable  numbers,  and  here  it  is  distinctly  seen 
that  the  pronuclei  do  not  separate  without  a  lasting  recip- 
rocal influence. 

We  shall  first  try  to  get  a  conception  of  this  influence, 
for  the  facts  concerning  hybridization  are  rather  involved ; 
they  can  be  most  clearly  explained  by  means  of  such  a 
hypothetical  conception.  We  shall  accordingly  assume  a 
mutual  influence  as  an  established  fact,  and  inquire  how 
this  can  take  place. 

First  of  all  it  is  clear  that  it  must  be  finished  before  the 
separation  of  the  pronuclei.  Once  they  are  apart  all  in- 
timate relation  between  them  ceases.  They  go  their  sep- 
arate ways,  each  living  for  itself.  Only  in  the  double  nu- 
clei do  the  paternal  and  the  maternal  pronuclei  lie  so  close 
together  that  their  individual  parts  can  exercise  an  in- 
fluence on  each  other. 

We  have  further  seen  that,  during  the  life  of  a  double 
nucleus,  throughout  the  successive  cell-divisions,  from  the 
origination  of  the  germ  to  the  complete  formation  of  the 
offspring,  the  contact  of  the  pronuclei  becomes  gradually 


534  THE  MONIST. 

more  intimate.  Before  the  first  cell  division  they  are,  as  a 
rule,  still  visibly  separated ;  soon  afterwards  the  border-line 
begins  to  look  more  indistinct,  and,  shortly  before  the  for- 
mation of  the  sexual  cells,  the  double  nature  is  disclosed 
with  certainty  only  in  the  rarest  cases  by  special  struc- 
tural relations.  It  is,  therefore,  clear  that  their  oppor- 
tunity for  mutual  influence  gradually  increases  during 
somatic  life.  Perhaps  it  first  occurs  only  at  the  end,  pos- 
sibly even,  only  at  the  moment  immediately  preceding  their 
separation.  A  decision  on  this  point  has  not  yet  been 
reached.*  But  the  above-mentioned  vegetative  splittings 
of  hybrids  indicate  that  the  process  is  deferred  as  long  as 
possible.  It  also  seems  simpler  to  assume  that  it  occurs 
only  in  those  cells  which  actually  lead  to  the  formation  of 
sexual  cells,  because  in  the  leaves,  bark,  and  other  vege- 
tative parts  of  the  body,  it  would  evidently  be  without  sig- 
nificance. 

We  therefore  imagine  the  mutual  influence  to  be  exer- 
cised towards  the  end,  or  even  at  the  very  last  moment 
before  the  separation  of  the  pronuclei.  In  the  first  case  it 
could  extend  over  a  long  time;  in  the  latter  it  must  take 
place  suddenly.  In  the  first  case  the  individual  parts  of  the 
nuclear  threads  could  be  mated  one  by  one;  in  the  latter 
this  would  have  to  take  place  everywhere  simultaneously. 

How  this  process  comes  about  is  self-evident  when  we 
assume  special  units,  special  granules  in  the  nuclear 
threads,  for  the  visible  characters  of  the  organisms.  There 
must  be  as  many  units  in  the  nucleus,  as  a  plant  or  animal 
possesses  individual  characters.  And  this,  of  course,  is  the 
rule  for  both  pronuclei.  In  the  condition  of  the  short  and 
thick  chromosomes  these  units  lie  crowded  together.  This 
is  a  definite  stage  in  cell-division;  the  units,  at  least  those 

*  More  recent  investigations  indicate  that  the  fusion  of  the  male  and  fe- 
male chromatin  elements  is  completed  during  the  stage  known  as  "synopsis," 
which  immediately  precedes  the  reduction-division,  or  heterotypic  nuclear  divi- 
sion, referred  to  above.  During  synapsis  the  chromatin  is  aggregated  into  a 
compact  mass  within  the  nuclear  cavity.  Tr. 


FERTILIZATION  AND  HYBRIDIZATION.  535 

of  the  interior  of  the  group,  remain  in  a  condition  of  en- 
forced rest.  But  as  soon  as  cell-division  is  completed,  the 
nuclear  threads  stretch ;  they  become  quite  long  and  thin, 
and  indeed  so  long  that  a  large  part,  perhaps  most  of 
them,  possibly  all  of  them,  come  to  the  surface.  At  least 
stretched  out  in  a  row  in  this  way,  the  granules  must  then 
be  arranged  one  after  another,  perhaps  in  the  threads 
themselves,  perhaps  in  their  finest  ramifications.  Now 
they  become  active,  and  if,  at  this  time,  nuclear  threads 
of  the  paternal  and  the  maternal  pronuclei  lie  together  in 
pairs,  every  granule  can  enter  into  communion  with  its  cor- 
responding unit  in  the  other  pronucleus. 

There  is  no  reason  to  assume  that  the  exceedingly  fine 
structure  of  the  nuclei,  which  is  so  strikingly  to  the  pur- 
pose and  yet  so  simple,  should  be  limited  to  what  is  visible 
to  us  at  present.  On  the  contrary  everything  points  to  the 
probability  that,  in  the  internal  structure  also  of  the  nuclear 
threads  this  same  serviceable  rule. must  prevail.  The  whole 
complicated  process  of  nuclear  division  has  for  its  object  the 
division  of  the  two  pronuclei  in  such  a  way,  that  their 
daughter-nuclei  will  share  alike  in  the  hereditary  char- 
acters that  are  present.  The  lengthening  of  the  nuclear 
threads  at  the  close  of  division,  their  so  frequent  ramifica- 
tion, and  the  seemingly  irregular  intertwining  of  their 
parts,  evidently  indicates  the  possibility  of  a  domination  of 
the  cell-life  by  the  bearers  of  the  inheritable  qualities.* 
These  must  impress  their  character  on  the  surrounding 
protoplasm  either  dynamically  or,  as  I  have  assumed  in 
my  Intracellulare  Pangenesis,  through  a  giving  out  of  ma- 
terial particles  to  the  surrounding  protoplasm,  and  thus 
promote  growth  and  development,  in  the  prescribed  direc- 
tion, into  the  specific  form  of  the  species  to  which  the  or- 
ganism belongs. 

This  secretion  of  material  chromatin  particles  from  the 

*  The  "pangens." 


53^  THE  MONIST. 

nuclei  was  recently  demonstrated  by  Conklin  in  Crepidula. 
In  this  way  considerable  quantities  of  chromatin,  and  there- 
fore probably  of  pangens  also,  are  transferred  into  the 
somatic  protoplasm. 

Thus  we  consider  that  the  structure  of  the  nuclear 
threads  is  such  that  it  not  only  makes  possible,  but  regu- 
lates and  dominates  the  relations  of  the  two  pronuclei.  In 
an  ordinary  animal,  or  in  a  plant  which  is  not  a  hybrid, 
both  pronuclei  possess  the  same  units,  only  with  a  some- 
what unlike  degree  of  development.  We  assume,  therefore, 
that  the  cooperation  comes  about  in  such  a  way  that  the 
individual  units  in  the  stretched  threads  lie  in  the  same 
numerical  order.  Then,  when  the  threads  are  closely  ap- 
pressed  lengthwise,  in  pairs,  we  can  imagine  all  the  like 
units  of  the  two  pronuclei  to  lie  opposite  each  other.  And 
this  is  obviously  the  simplest  assumption  for  a  mutual  in- 
fluence. 

If  every  unit,  that  is,  every  inner  character  or  every 
material  bearer  of  an  external  peculiarity,  forms  an  entity 
in  each  pronucleus,  and  if  the  two  like  units  lie  opposite 
each  other  in  any  given  moment,  we  may  assume  a  simple 
exchange  of  them.  Not  of  all  (for  that  would  only  make 
the  paternal  pronucleus  into  a  maternal  one),  but  of  a 
larger,  or  even  only  a  smaller  part.  How  many  and  which, 
may  then  simply  be  left  to  chance.  In  this  way  all  kinds 
of  new  combinations  of  paternal  and  maternal  units  may 
occur  in  the  two  pronuclei,  and  when  these  separate  at  the 
formation  of  the  sexual  cells,  each  of  them  will  harbor  in 
part  paternal,  in  part  maternal  units.  These  combinations 
must  be  governed  by  the  laws  of  probability,  and  from 
these,  calculations  may  be  derived,  which  may  lead  to  the 
explanation  of  the  relations  of  affinity  between  the  children 
and  their  parents,  the  grandchildren  and  their  grand- 
parents. On  the  other  hand  a  comparison  of  the  results 
of  this  calculation  and  of  direct  observation  will  form  the 


FERTILIZATION  AND   HYBRIDIZATION.  537 

best,  and  for  the  time  being,  the  only  possible  means  for 
a  decision  as  to  the  correctness  of  our  supposition. 

The  mutual  influence  of  the  two  pronuclei  shortly  be- 
fore their  separation  is  therefore  brought  about,  according 
to  our  view,  by  an  exchange  of  units.  Every  unit  can  be 
exchanged  only  for  a  like  one,  which  means  for  one  which, 
in  the  other  pronucleus,  represents  the  same  hereditary 
character.  This  rule  appears  to  me  to  be  unavoidable  and 
really  self-evident.  For  the  children  must  inherit  all  spe- 
cific characters  from  their  parents,  and  they  must  also 
transmit  all  of  them  to  their  own  progeny.  This  exchange 
must  hence  be  accomplished  in  such  a  way  that  every  pro- 
nucleus  retains  the  entire  series  of  units  of  all  the  specific 
characters,  and  this  result  can  evidently  be  obtained  only 
when  the  interchange  is  limited  to  like  units. 

We  distinguish  here  specific  characteristics  from  indi- 
vidual features.  The  units  in  the  hereditary  substance  of 
the  nuclear  thread  compose  the  former.  Every  species  has 
an  often  exceedingly  large  and  yet  definite  and  invariable 
number  of  them.  The  sum  total  of  these  units  forms  that 
which  distinguishes  any  given  species  from  all  others,  even 
from  its  nearest  allies.  A  complete  diagnosis  of  a  species 
would  have  to  embrace  all  of  these  characteristics,  and 
therewith  all  the  material  bearers  underlying  them. 

The  individual  features,  that  is,  the  differences  between 
the  individuals  within  the  species,  and  not  only  of  the  sys- 
tematic but  of  the  so-called  elementary  species,  are  of  quite 
another  nature.  It  is  true  that  they  are,  in  a  way,  heredi- 
tary, but  with  that  they  are  subject  to  constant  changes. 
The  average  stature  of  man  remains  the  same  in  the  course 
of  centuries,  for  the  same  race  (elementary  species),  but 
the  individual  stature  changes  constantly  from  one  indi- 
vidual to  another.  In  the  somatic  cells  of  man  the  bearers 
of  the  stature  of  the  father  lie  opposite  those  of  the  mother. 
At  the  moment  of  exchange  these  are  mutually  transferred, 


THE  MONIST. 

and  the  sexual  cells  receive  partly  one,  partly  the  other  stat- 
ure, but  this  in  the  most  various  combinations  with  the  other 
characters.  Thus  one  might  continue.  Every  visible  qual- 
ity, every  trait  of  character  is  to  be  found  in  all  individuals, 
only  in  some  they  are  strongly  developed  and  prominent, 
in  others  weak  and  recessive.  Ordinary  observation  takes 
more  interest  in  differences  than  in  similarities,  and  for 
this  reason  the  former  are  designated  by  contrasting  ex- 
pressions, as  large  and  small,  strong  and  weak,  forward 
and  modest.  But  these  are,  in  each  instance,  only  degrees 
of  the  same  hereditary  characteristic,  or  the  same  trait  of 
character.  And  such  more  or  less  differing  stages  of  de- 
velopment of  the  same  inner  units  we  represent  to  our- 
selves as  the  entities  which  are  exchanged  by  the  nuclear 
threads. 

Individual  differences  are  thus  not  included  in  the  type 
of  the  species.  They  form  deviations  from  this  type,  and 
are  conditioned  by  causes  which  were  formerly  generally 
described  as  conditions  of  nutrition,  but  now  more  fre- 
quently as  environment.  Under  these  influences  every  char- 
acter can  develop  more  or  less  strongly  than  the  average 
type.  And  the  environment,  provided  it  remains  constant 
during  the  entire  period  of  development,  must  affect  all 
the  unfolding  characters  in  the  same  way.  If  it  is  favor- 
able it  furthers  all  parts  of  the  body  and  all  mental  gifts, 
if  it  is  unfavorable  it  has  the  opposite  effect  on  all  of  them. 
Not,  by  any  means,  to  the  same  degree  upon  all  of  them : 
that  does  not  depend  upon  the  environment  but  upon  the 
units  themselves;  this,  however,  can  not  lead  to  essential 
differences  between  separate  individuals.  But  our  suppo- 
sition of  such  a  uniform  environment  would  probably  be 
met  with  only  in  the  rarest  of  cases.  And,  as  soon  as  it 
changed,  it  would  influence  one  individual  differently  from 
the  others.  Moreover  the  characters  do  not  unfold  simul- 
taneously, but  successively,  the  higher  one  for  the  most 


FERTILIZATION  AND  HYBRIDIZATION.  539 

part  later  than  the  lower  ones,  mental  characters  later  than 
those  of  the  body,  the  reason  later  than  the  memory.  And 
all  those  wheels  work  into  each  other  so  that  small  devia- 
tions will  rather  tend  to  become  greater  than  to  be  equal- 
ized. Though  children  of  the  same  parents  but  of  different 
age  might,  during  their  entire  youth,  live  under  the  same 
circumstances,  they  will  yet  react  differently  to  them. 
This  also  holds  true  for  plants  where,  in  the  same  bed, 
a  delay  of  only  one  day  in  germinating  will,  according  to 
the  weather,  lead  either  to  equal  or  to  quite  surprising 
differences  in  size  and  qualities. 

If  favorable  and  unfavorable  conditions  of  life  alter- 
nate during  the  individual  development,  and  if  they  strike 
a  group  of  individuals  sprung  from  like  seeds  at  different 
periods  of  their  growth,  quite  a  considerable  degree  of  in- 
dividual differences  must  thereby  result. 

These  differences  play  in  nature  the  same  role  as  in 
human  society.  One  is  adapted  for  this  kind  of  task,  the 
other  for  that.  With  men  it  is  the  duty  of  every  one  to 
develop  his  own  talents  to  the  best  of  his  ability,  and  to 
render  as  favorable  as  possible  the  circumstance  for  the 
most  perfect  development  of  his  children.  The  highest 
efficiency  of  society  in  general  demands  of  each  the 
strongest  effort  in  the  direction  of  his  most  favorable 
talents.  To  ascertain  this  direction  ought  to  be  one  of 
the  chief  aims  of  education  and  instruction.  In  animals 
and  plants  this  highest  efficiency  can  obviously  not  be 
achieved  in  the  same  way.  And  especially  are  the  con- 
ditions different  for  plants,  which  are  tied  for  life  to  the 
place  where  they  germinated.  Here,  as  is  well  known,  na- 
ture is  assisted  by  the  astonishingly  great  number  of  seeds ; 
she  sows  so  many  in  every  individual  spot  that  only  the 
best,  that  is,  the  individuals  best  adapted  for  the  given  lo- 
cality, need  retain  life.  But,  by  sacrificing  countless  seeds, 
she  also  accomplishes  here  that  adaptation  of  the  individual 


54°  THE  MONIST. 

specimens  which  is  the  condition  for  the  complete  unfold- 
ing of  their  abilities  and  advantages. 

Very  great  weight  is  therefore  given  to  individual  dif- 
ferences in  the  life  of  the  entire  species.  The  greater  they 
are,  the  greater  the  power  of  adaptation,  the  greater  the 
chance  of  victory. 

And  in  this  I  see  the  significance  of  sexual  reproduc- 
tion. It  mixes  the  potentialities  that  have  developed  in  the 
single  individuals  in  the  most  complete  manner  imaginable ; 
it  achieves,  at  one  stroke,  all  possible  combinations.  It 
cancels,  as  Johannsen  expresses  it,  the  previous  correla- 
tions. Asexual  propagation  confers  a  certain  degree  of 
variability,  and  this  may  be  quite  sufficient  in  many  cases, 
especially  in  the  case  of  a  low  organization  or  of  quite  spe- 
cial adaptation,  as  in  many  parasitic  and  saprophytic  or- 
ganisms. Under  such  conditions  the  variability  remains, 
in  a  certain  sense  limited,  more  or  less  one-sided,  because 
every  individual  is  the  result  of  the  varying,  but,  on  the 
whole,  one-sided  environment  in  which  his  progenitors 
existed.  Only  an  exchange  of  qualities  can  help  to  over- 
come this  one-sidedness ;  only  this  can  cause  all  the  com- 
binations to  arise  which  are  demanded  by  the  varying  en- 
vironments. If  we  assume  that  the  bearers  of  the  individ- 
ual characters  are,  as  a  rule,  independent  of  each  other 
during  their  exchange,  and  also  that  the  latter  is  ruled  by 
chance,  two  pairs  of  characteristics  would  directly  result 
in  four,  three  in  eight,  four  in  sixteen  combinations.  The 
sum  total  of  the  points  of  difference  of  two  parents  must 
therefore  give  rise  to  such  an  incredible  number  of  possi- 
bilities that  no  struggle  for  existence,  no  annual  rejection 
of  hundreds  and  thousands  of  germs  could  demand  a 
richer  material. 

Hence  sexual  reproduction  brings  individual  variabil- 
ity to  its  highest  point.  It  produces  a  material  that  cor- 
responds to  almost  any  environment.  It  is  the  principal 


FERTILIZATION  AND  HYBRIDIZATION.  54! 

condition  for  the  greatest  efficiency  of  cooperation,  be  it 
by  a  selection  as  free  as  possible  of  the  line  of  development 
for  the  single  individuals,  or  by  a  sacrifice  of  all  the  indi- 
viduals that  do  not  quite  meet  all  the  requirements. 

This  service  of  sexual  reproduction  is  evidently  not 
limited  to  a  single  generation.  It  exercises  its  influence 
throughout  successive  generations,  and  it  is  probably  in- 
different whether  the  effect  follows  directly,  or  whether  it 
manifests  itself  in  the  course  of  time.  Even  without  that, 
the  complete  utilization  of  all  given  possibilities  requires, 
as  a  rule,  more  individual  beings  than  are  born  in  a  single 
generation.  And  with  this,  the  otherwise  strange  fact  is 
explained,  that  the  exchange  of  the  units  does  not  imme- 
diately follow  fertilization,  but  only  takes  place  a  short  time 
before  the  succeeding  period  of  fertilization.  But  obviously 
an  exchange,  ruled  by  laws  of  chance,  could  not  benefit 
a  given  isolated  individual  or,  more  correctly  speaking, 
it  would  most  likely,  just  as  frequently  be  harmful  as  use- 
ful. It  can  only  be  of  use  in  connection  with  an  increase 
in  the  number  of  individuals,  for  it  is  its  task  to  bring 
about  as  great  a  variety  as  possible,  and  with  that,  the 
highest  possible  prospect  for  the  required  quantity  of  su- 
perior specimens.  At  the  moment  when  the  production 
of  the  sexual  cells  begins,  in  such  enormous  numbers,  it 
also  finds  the  best  opportunity  for  fulfilling  its  task. 

Thus,  sexual  reproduction  has  only  a  subordinate  sig- 
nificance for  the  children,  while  for  the  grandchildren  it 
is  of  the  utmost  importance,  because  only  for  them  does 
the  urn  mix  up  all  its  lots. 

The  same  laws  that  govern  normal  fertilization,  are, 
of  course,  valid  for  hybrids  also.  There  cannot  be  special 
biological  laws  for  them,  because  they  are  only  derived 
phenomena,  deviations  from  the  normal.  Now  the  ques- 
tion is,  to  which  results,  departing  from  the  rule,  will  the 
common  laws  lead  in  these  special  cases.  And  with  this 


542  THE  MONIST. 

it  is  clear  that  the  phenomena  must  keep  nearer  to  the 
normal  the  less  the  deviation  is  from  the  type. 

This  type  is  conditioned  by  the  fact  that  the  two  organ- 
isms that  fertilize  each  other  belong  to  the  same  small  or 
elementary  species.  They  have  then,  on  the  whole,  the 
same  characters,  even  if  these  are,  according  to  their  en- 
vironment in  various  degrees  of  development.  There  are 
no  differences  among  them  independent  of  this,  at  least 
if  we  consider  the  cumulative  effect  of  uniform  influences 
in  the  course  of  several  generations. 

As  soon  as  such  independent  differences  occur,  and  as 
soon  therefore  as  there  are  present  constant  contrasts, 
which  are  retained  in  the  sequence  of  generations  and  can- 
not be  blended  by  environment,  we  call  the  sexual  union  of 
two  individuals  a  crossing  or  a  hybridization.  If  the  con- 
trasts are  slight,  we  call  the  two  races  varieties,  if  they 
are  greater,  they  assume  the  rank  of  species.  The  crossing 
of  varieties  keeps  quite  near  to  normal  fertilization;  that 
of  the  species  deviates  the  more  the  slighter  the  relation- 
ship between  them.  The  crossing  of  varieties  forms  a 
type  complete  in  itself,  that  of  the  species  forms  a  series 
which  descends  from  almost  normal  processes,  by  gradual 
progress,  to  a  complete  reciprocal  sterility.  The  variety- 
hybrids  are  fertile  like  their  parents,  but  in  the  species- 
hybrids  the  diminished  fertility  indicates  abnormal  phe- 
nomena either  in  fertilization  or  in  the  exchange  of  the 
units. 

We  must  therefore  discuss  these  two  groups  separately, 
and  we  shall  begin  with  the  varieties. 

In  daily  life  and  in  horticulture,  any  thing  that  deviates 
from  the  normal  is  called  a  variety.  Even  the  new  forms 
obtained  by  crossing  are  quite  commonly  counted  among 
the  varieties.  In  science,  therefore,  the  word  would  really 
be  useless.  Nevertheless  it  has  been  retained  and  its  mean- 
ing has  been  gradually  limited.  Especially  in  describing 


FERTILIZATION  AND  HYBRIDIZATION.  543 

horticultural  plants  the  conception  is  sufficiently  restricted 
by  excluding  on  the  one  hand  the  hybrids,  on  the  other  hand 
the  improved  races  obtained  by  selection,  and  finally  the  so- 
called  elementary  species  that,  taken  together,  form  our 
ordinary  species. 

Upen  reviewing  the  cases  that  are  left,  two  types 
can  be  plainly  distinguished,  the  constant  and  the  incon- 
stant varieties.  The  former  are  not  inferior  to  true  species 
in  point  of  constancy.  Their  character  varies,  in  the  single 
individuals,  around  a  mean,  but  in  the  main  not  more  so 
than  the  corresponding  characteristic  of  the  species.  From 
this  they  are  separated  by  a  decided  chasm.  In  pure  fer- 
tilization they  never  bridge  this  chasm,  or  at  least,  ex- 
tremely rarely,  but  in  crossing  they  revert  very  easily  to 
the  species.  It  is  this  very  reversion  that  stamps  them 
varieties,  and  when  the  crossing  is  not  artificial  but  natural, 
brought  about  by  insects,  it  escapes  observation,  and  only 
the  fact  of  the  reversion  strikes -the  gardener. 

These  constant  varieties  are,  as  a  rule,  distinguished 
from  the  species  to  which  they  belong,  by  lacking  some 
striking  quality  that  adorns  the  latter.  Most  frequently 
it  is  the  coloring  of  the  flower  or,  in  the  case  of  flowers 
with  combined  colors,  as  in  the  yellow  and  red  tulips,  one 
of  the  individual  colors,  that  is  wanting.  Often  they  lack 
hairs  or  thorns,  very  frequently  the  development  of  the 
blade  is  arrested,  and  split  leaves  originate.  In  all  of  these 
cases  there  is  no  ground  for  the  opinion  that  the  failure  of 
the  visible  character  means  also  the  loss  of  the  respective 
unit.  Rather  does  everything  point  to  the  fact  that  the  unit 
has  simply  become  inactive,  that  it  is  in  a  state  of  rest,  or 
as  it  is  usually  expressed,  that  it  has  become  latent.  Es- 
pecially the  reversions,  which  in  individual  specimens  of 
such  varieties  are,  at  times,  quite  common  phenomena, 
betray  this  latent  presence. 

Inconstant  varieties  are  distinguished  by  a  strikingly 


544  THE  MONIST. 

high  variability,  by  an  exceedingly  great  range  of  de- 
parture from  the  norm.  But  here  we  encounter  the  double 
meaning  of  the  designation  inconstancy.  On  the  one  hand 
the  word  means  a  certain  relatively  great  richness  of  indi- 
vidual forms,  on  the  other  hand  it  relates  to  differences 
between  the  parents  and  the  progeny.  In  choosing  from  an 
inconstant  variety  a  single  individual,  and  sowing  its  seed, 
after  pure  fertilization,  the  whole  play  of  forms  of  the 
variety  can  be  found  again  in  the  children, — hence  a  pal- 
pable proof  of  the  inconstancy.  But,  on  choosing  several 
individuals,  and  on  sowing  their  seeds  separately,  each  of 
them  will  produce  almost  the  same  series  of  forms.  The 
whole  group  is  transmitted  from  year  to  year,  and  does 
not  change.  The  variety  has  a  definite  circle  of  forms 
in  which  the  descendants  of  every  specimen  choose  freely 
their  place,  but  they  do  not  go  outside  the  circle.  The 
limits  are  constant,  and  remain  so  in  the  course  of  genera- 
tions ;  within  the  limits,  however,  a  motley  variety  prevails. 

Such  is  the  concept  of  plants  with  variegated  leaves, 
of  double  and  striped  flowers,  and  many  other  most  highly 
variable  garden-plants.  The  new  character  is  not  based 
here  on  the  loss  or  the  latency  of  some  characteristic  of 
the  species.  Indeed,  on  the  contrary,  it  is  usually  a  pecu- 
liarity which  is  already  present  in  the  species  itself,  or  at 
least  in  one  of  its  races,  in  a  latent  state.  Especially  do 
variegated  leaves  occur,  not  so  very  infrequently,  on  other- 
wise green  plants,  and  the  same  is  true  of  stamens  with 
petal-like  broadenings.  The  relation  of  the  inconstant 
varieties  to  the  species  from  which  they  are  derived,  is 
therefore  quite  different  from  that  of  the  constant  vari- 
eties. 

Nevertheless,  the  two  crossings  behave  in  the  same 
manner  in  regard  to  their  mother-species.  From  the  latter 
they  are  distinguished,  for  the  most  part,  only  in  one  point, 
though  sometimes  in  several.  But  we  have  always  to  deal 


FERTILIZATION  AND  HYBRIDIZATION.  545 

with  the  distinction  between  active  as  contrasted  with 
latent,  be  it  that  the  given  character  is  active  in  the  vari- 
ety and  latent  in  the  mother-species,  or  latent  in  the  former 
and  active  in  the  species  itself. 

If  to  this  we  apply  the  conception  of  the  arrangement 
of  the  units  in  rows  on  the  nuclear  threads,  as  explained 
above,  it  is  quite  evident  that  everything  will  follow  exactly 
the  same  course  as  in  normal  fertilization.  Every  unit  in 
the  paternal  pronucleus  corresponds  to  the  representative 
of  the  same  peculiarity  in  the  maternal  one.  The  nuclear 
threads  fit  as  nicely  into  each  other  as  in  a  pure  species,  and 
all  the  units  which  do  not  directly  bring  about  the  point  of 
difference  behave  quite  normally.  Cooperation  in  vege- 
tative life,  and  exchange  during  the  formation  of  the  sex- 
ual cells  need  not  be  disturbed.  We  may  confine  our  whole 
consideration  to  the  point  of  difference,  and  we  shall  select, 
for  the  purpose,  as  simple  an  illustration  as  possible,  one 
in  which  there  is  only  one  difference  between  the  species 
and  the  variety,  for  example,  the  color  of  the  flower. 

The  material  bearer  of  the  color-characteristic  is  situ- 
ated in  the  mother-species  so  that  it  can  display  its  full 
activity  while  in  the  variety  it  is  unable  to  do  so.  If  the 
paternal  and  maternal  nuclear  threads  of  the  hybrid  come 
into  contact  for  the  purpose  of  exchange,  and  with  the 
same  sequence  of  units  in  both,  the  active  unit  of  coloring 
matter  naturally  gets  the  equivalent  inactive  unit  as  an 
antagonist.  With  this  it  must  therefore  be  exchanged.  We 
assume  that  in  this  the  latent  condition  is  without  signifi- 
cance, that  hence  the  exchange  comes  about  in  the  same 
manner  as  in  normal  fertilization. 

Over  this,  however,  the  crossings  of  varieties  have  the 
great  advantage  that  there  the  origin  of  the  characteristic 
in  question  can  always  be  clearly  and  positively  recognized. 
Both  units  of  a  pair  of  antagonists  are  otherwise  distin- 
guished only  by  a  more  or  less  of  development,  here  by  a 


THE  MONIST. 

sharp  contrast.  And  for  this  reason  it  is  experimentally 
much  easier  to  discover  the  laws  with  varieties  than  with 
purely  individual  differences. 

In  doing  this,  two  points  have  to  be  distinguished ;  the 
consequences  of  fertilization  and  the  consequences  of  the 
exchange  of  the  units.  The  former  we  see  in  the  hybrid 
itself,  the  latter  in  its  descendants.*  And  since  fertilization 
and  exchange  are  two  such  fundamentally  different  things, 
we  must  not  wonder  that  there  exist  such  decided  differ- 
ences between  a  hybrid  and  its  descendants.  These  differ- 
ences show  themselves  essentially  by  the  fact  that  the  hy- 
brids of  a  mother-species  with  a  variety  of  the  same  are 
alike,  even  if  they  are  obtained  in  great  numbers,  while 
their  descendants  always  display  a  certain  variety. 

Let  us  first  consider  the  first  generation  of  variety- 
hybrids.  How  do  the  two  pronuclei,  notwithstanding  their 
inequality,  cooperate  in  order  to  regulate  the  evolution? 
This  question  amounts  to  the  same  as  asking,  what  is  the 
sum  of  the  influence  of  an  active  and  a  latent  unit  ?  At  first 
glance  one  would  expect  that  this  influence  would  corres- 
pond to  half  the  value  of  a  pair  composed  of  two  active 
units.  Previously  this  opinion  was  rather  generally  ac- 
cepted, and  there  was  an  inclination  to  regard  plants  with 
intermediate  characters  as  hybrids.  Especially  many 
plants  with  pale  red  or  pale  blue  flowers  were  regarded 
as  such.  But  the  experience  of  later  years  has  decided 
differently. 

Variety-hybrids  generally  bear  the  characteristic  of 
the  species,  sometimes  fully  developed,  sometimes  more  or 
less  weakened,  but  this  for  the  most  part  only  so  little  that 

*  In  the  fertilized  egg,  resulting  from  the  crossing,  the  chromatin  from  the 
male  and  female  parents  is  not  completely  fused.  As  pointed  out  in  a  preceding 
footnote  (p.  534),  this  fusion,  called  synapsis,  occurs  as  almost  the  last  step 
preceding  the  nuclear  and  cell-divisions  that  give  rise  to  the  reproductive  cells. 
The  characters  of  the  first  hybrid  generation  are  a  result  of  fertilization.  Fol- 
lowing synapsis,  the  pure  bred  offspring  of  this  generation  differ  from  their 
parents  and  also  among  themselves.  Tr. 


FERTILIZATION  AND  HYBRIDIZATION.  547 

superficial  observation  sees  no  difference.  An  active  and 
a  latent  unit  are  not  essentially  different  in  their  coopera- 
tion from  two  active  ones;  a  fact  which  may  probably  be 
best  explained  by  the  assumption  that  two  cannot  accom- 
plish more  than  one  already  does.  This  conception  finds 
a  very  strong  support  in  the  results  of  the  most  recent  in- 
vestigations by  Boveri  on  dispermia,  which  we  have  al- 
ready partly  discussed.  By  fertilizing  one  egg  with  two 
spermatozoa  the  composition  of  the  structure  of  the  nuclear 
threads  can  be  altered  in  different  ways,  for  instance,  in 
such  a  manner  that  in  one  nucleus  there  lie  not  two,  but 
three  pieces  of  any  one  of  its  chromosomes.  It  might  then 
be  expected  that  the  given  characters  would  be  very 
strongly  developed,  to  about  one  and  one-half  of  their  in- 
tensity. But,  as  far  as  can  be  judged  from  Boveri's  ex- 
periments, this  is  not  the  case,  and  the  influence  of  the 
three  equivalent  units  is  not  noticeably  greater  than  that 
of  two. 

We  come  now  to  the  progeny  of  hybrids,  and  we,  of 
course,  presuppose  self-fertilization.  At  the  formation  of 
the  sexual  cells  the  two  pronuclei  separate;  this  happens 
at  the  origination  of  the  egg-cells  as  well  as  of  the  sperms. 
Through  exchange,  the  active  unit  of  our  differing  pair 
combines  partly  with  new  units  of  the  other  pairs,  and 
thereby  new  combinations  originate  as  in  ordinary  fertili- 
zation. But  if  we  consider  only  the  differing  pair,  exactly 
one-half  of  the  egg-cells  must  obviously  have  the  paternal, 
and  the  other  half  the  maternal  character.  Or,  in  other 
words,  in  one-half  of  the  egg-cells  the  given  character  oc- 
curs in  the  active,  in  the  other  in  the  latent  state.  Exactly 
the  same  is  true  of  the  male  sexual  cells,  the  sperms,  in  ani- 
mals as  well  as  in  plants,  and  independently  from  the  cir- 
cumstance that  in  the  higher  plants  the  sperm-cells  are 
conducted  to  the  egg-cells  in  the  pollen-tube. 


548  THE  MONIST. 

The  male  sexual  products  of  a  hybrid  are  therefore  un- 
like each  other,  and  the  same  holds  true  of  the  female.  In 
the  simplest  case  selected  both  groups  consist  of  two  types, 
in  the  more  complicated  cases  this  number  will  obviously 
become  greater.  The  paternal  and  maternal  factors  of 
the  hybrid  become,  in  its  progeny,  grandpaternal  and 
grandmaternal.  Hence,  in  regard  to  the  point  of  differ- 
ence, one-half  of  its  egg-cells  and  one-half  of  its  sperm- 
cells  have  grandpaternal  factors,  while  the  other  halves 
possess  grandmaternal  ones. 

By  means  of  this  principle  the  composition  of  the  pro- 
geny in  the  simple  as  well  as  in  the  complex  cases,  and  for 
constant  as  well  as  for  inconstant  varieties  can  be  calcu- 
lated. Thus  we  obtain  the  formulae  which  are  now  uni- 
versally known  as  Mendel's  law. 

They  indicate,  for  any  given  number  of  points  of  dif- 
ference between  two  parents,  how  many  children  corres- 
pond to  every  individual  combination  of  the  respective 
character.  And,  on  the  whole,  experience  has  so  far 
proven  the  reliability  of  these  formulae  for  animals  as  well 
as  for  plants. 

It  would  be  too  great  a  digression  to  consider  here  the 
formulae  themselves.  We  shall  therefore  leave  the  field 
of  the  variety-hybrids,  and  turn  to  the  hybrids  between 
different  species,  especially  between  allied  elementary  spe- 
cies. 

In  order  to  understand  these  we  must  get  a  clear  idea 
of  the  nature  of  the  points  of  difference  in  this  case,  or  in 
other  words,  what  is  meant  by  relationship.  Species  orig- 
inate from  each  'other  in  a  progressive  way.  The  number 
of  the  units  in  lower  organisms  is  evidently  only  small, 
and  must  gradually  increase  with  progressing  organiza- 
tion. Every  newly  arising  species  contains  at  least  one 
more  than  the  form  from  which  it  has  arisen.  Onlv  in 


FERTILIZATION  AND  HYBRIDIZATION.  549 

this  way  can  one  imagine  the  progress  of  the  entire  plant 
and  animal  world.4 

It  is  indeed  questionable  whether  the  acquisition  of  a 
single  new  unit,  the  increasing  by  one  unit  of  the  entire 
stock,  amounting  to  hundreds  and  thousands,  would  be 
sufficient  to  make  the  impression  of  progress  on  us.  The 
difference  will  in  most  cases  be  too  slight.  Only  when  two 
or  three  or  more  units  have  been  added  successively  to 
those  already  present,  will  we  recognize  an  increase  in  the 
degree  of  organization. 

The  progress  of  every  individual  species  can  appar- 
ently take  different  directions.  In  some  genera  there  are 
species  so  typical  that  they  may  be  regarded  as  the  com- 
mon origin  of  the  others.  Where  these  are  lacking  it  is 
manifest  that  the  systematic  relations  are  still  too  incom- 
pletely known  to  us,  or  that  the  given  forms  have  died  out. 
Every  species  can  therefore  be  compared  with  its  own  an- 
cestors or  with  other  descendants -of  the  same  ancestors. 

This  consideration  leads  us  to  the  recognition  of  two 
different  types  of  relationship,  and  therewith  also  of  two 
groups  of  crossings  between  allied  species,  which  have  to 
be  kept  absolutely  apart.  One  of  them  we  shall  call  the 
avunculary,  the  other  the  collateral.  In  the  first  case  we 
cross  a  form  with  an  "avunculus"  or  ancestor  in  the  direct 
line,  in  the  latter  case  with  one  of  its  lateral  relatives.  Ob- 
viously the  first  relation  is  very  simple  while  the  latter  is 
more  complicated. 

Every  character  and  every  unit  corresponding  to  it, 

4  A  quite  different  hypothesis  is  thinkable,  as,  for  example,  that  suggested 
by  G.  H.  Shull,  "The  Significance  of  Latent  Characters,"  Science,  N.  S.,  XXV, 
792,  1907. 

"All  the  visible  variations  of  the  present  plant  and  animal  world  were 
once  involved  in  some  generalized  form  or  forms,  and  the  process  of  differen- 
tiation pictures  itself  to  us  as  a  true  process  of  evolution  brought  about  by  the 
change  of  individual  character-determining  units  from  a  dominant  to  a  re- 
cessive state.  This  conception  results  in  an  interesting  paradox,  namely,  the 
production  of  a  new  character  by  the  loss  of  an  old  unit." 

This  hypothesis,  however,  as  de  Vries  has  pointed  out,  seems  too  much 
like  a  revival  of  the  old  involution  theory  as  opposed  to  epigenesis.  (C.  S.  G.) 


55°  THE   MONIST. 

which  in  a  crossing  is  present  in  one  species  and  lacking 
in  the  older  one,  forms  a  special  point  of  difference.  Hence 
the  simplest  case  is  the  one  in  which  there  is  only  one  such 
difference  between  the  two  parents  of  a  cross.  But  gen- 
erally several  of  them  exist. 

Now  in  such  a  cross,  the  differing  factors  evidently 
do  not  find  any  antagonists  in  the  sexual  cells  of  the  other 
parent.  When,  during  fertilization,  the  pronuclei  unite 
into  a  double  nucleus,  all  the  other  units  are  present  in 
pairs.  Not  so  the  differing  ones ;  they  lie  unpaired  in  the 
hybrid. 

If  we  apply  this  reasoning  to  our  conception  of  the 
arrangement  of  the  units  in  rows  on  the  nuclear  threads, 
the  immediate  result  would  be  that  their  cooperation  must 
be  disturbed.  The  threads  no  longer  fit,  neither  during 
fertilization  and  in  vegetative  life,  nor  later  when  the  units 
are  exchanged  before  the  formation  of  the  sexual  cells. 

If  we  imagine  two  corresponding  chromosomes  of  the 
two  pronuclei  placed  exactly  side  by  side,  and  in  such  a  way 
that  every  unit  of  the  one  has  the  corresponding  unit  of  the 
other  for  a  neighbor,  this  will  occur  in  a  species-cross  only 
as  far  as  the  point  of  difference.  Here  one  nuclear  thread 
has  one  unit  more  than  the  other.  The  latter  has,  so  to  say, 
a  gap. 

The  greater  the  number  of  points  of  difference,  the 
more  numerous  are  these  gaps,  and  the  more  will  the  co- 
operation of  the  two  nuclei  be  interfered  with.  And  this 
must  diminish  the  vitality  of  the  germ  or  at  least  the  nor- 
mal development  of  all  characters. 

If  the  differences  between  the  two  parents  are  too  nu- 
merous, a  crossing,  as  is  well  known,  remains  quite  with- 
out effect.  Crossings  between  species  belonging  to  different 
genera  succeed  in  very  rare  cases  only,  indeed  within  by 
far  the  most  genera  even  the  ordinary  systematic  species 
are  not  fertile  when  united.  Genera  such  as  Nicotiana, 


FERTILIZATION  AND  HYBRIDIZATION.  55! 

Dianthus,  Salix,  and  others,  which  are  rich  in  hybrids,  are, 
as  a  rule  the  very  ones  in  which  the  species  are  exceedingly 
closely  related  to  each  other. 

Even  if  the  agreement  of  two  species  is  great  enough 
for  mutual  fertilization,  the  life  of  the  hybrid  is  by  no 
means  assured  thereby.  Some  of  them  die  as  seeds  within 
the  unripe  fruit,  as  has  been  specially  described  by  Stras- 
burger  for  the  hybrid  seeds  of  Orchis  Morio  after  fertili- 
zation with  O.  fusca. 

Others  become  young  plantlets,  but  are  too  weak  to 
develop  any  further,  and  perish  during  the  first  weeks 
after  germination,  as  I  have  frequently  seen,  for  example 
after  crossings  of  Oenothera  Lamarckiana  and  O.  muri- 
cata.  Or  only  the  most  vigorous  individuals  continue  to 
grow  while  the  weaker  ones  perish,  and  this,  in  dioecious 
plants  sometimes  results  in  the  male  seedlings  perishing 
while  some  of  the  more  vigorous  female  ones  develop  flow- 
ers, as  Wichura  observed  in  several  willows.  Finally  there 
might  originate  hybrids  that  grow  vigorously,  but  do  not 
flower  at  all  or  only  incompletely,  or  begin  too  late  to  do  so. 
There  is  a  whole  series  of  cases  between  the  unsuccessful 
crossings  and  the  development  of  hybrids  into  adult  plants. 
And  on  the  whole  this  series  runs  parallel  with  the  in- 
creasing systematic  relationship. 

If  the  hybrid  has  succeeded  in  reaching  the  period  of 
flowering,  that  is,  the  period  of  the  formation  of  the  sexual 
cells,  a  new  difficulty  arises  at  the  moment  of  the  exchange 
of  the  units.  Whereas,  up  to  that  time,  the  cooperation 
of  the  two  pronuclei  was  more  or  less  disturbed,  now  the 
gaps  become  very  important.  Hence  the  quite  common 
phenomenon  that  the  production  of  egg-  and  sperm-cells 
fails  more  or  less  completely,  that  the  hybrids  either  pro- 
duce no  ovules  that  are  capable  of  being  fertilized,  or  no 
good  pollen,  or  neither.  They  are  more  or  less  or  even 
completely  sterile.  They  either  form  no  seed  at  all,  or  only 


552  THE  MONIST. 

an  insufficient  quantity.  Only  where  the  differences  be- 
tween the  parents  are  quite  small,  does  one  succeed  in  har- 
vesting any  seed,  and  even  here,  frequently  only  a  little. 

How  the  unpaired  characters  behave  during  the  ex- 
change, when  they  are  not  numerous  enough  to  make  a 
failure  of  the  entire  process,  is  at  present  unknown.  Ex- 
perience teaches,  however,  that  in  these  cases  the  descen- 
dants of  the  hybrids  do  not  display  that  multif ariousness  of 
type,  nor  those  splittings  that  are  characteristic  of  variety- 
hybrids.  They  usually  all  resemble  each  other  and  their 
parents,  the  original  hybrids,  and  this  constancy  persists 
through  the  course  of  generations.  Accordingly  there 
originate  races  of  hybrids  which,  apart  from  their  possibly 
diminished  fertility,  can  hardly  be  distinguished  from  true 
species.  Sometimes  they  are  found  wild,  as  for  example 
a  hybrid  race  between  two  Alpine  roses,  and  other  races 
of  the  kind  in  the  genera  Anemone,  Salvia,  Nymphaea,  etc. 
Sometimes  they  have  been  obtained  artificially  or  have 
accidentally  originated  in  the  gardens.  The  genus  Oeno- 
thera  is  exceptionally  rich  in  such  constant  hybrid  races, 
especially  in  the  sub-genus  of  the  common  evening-prim- 
roses, Onagra.  Very  frequently  such  hybrids  are  simply 
described  as  species,  on  the  one  hand  because  they  can  be 
reproduced,  without  deviation,  from  seeds,  and  on  the  other 
hand  because  systematic  works  frequently  do  not  suffi- 
ciently consider  the  elementary  species.  The  distinguish- 
ing of  the  latter  from  hybrid  races  is  frequently  by  no 
means  easy. 

The  purpose  of  my  explanations  compels  me  to  restrict 
myself  to  simple  and  clear  cases.  In  nature  these  occur 
relatively  rarely,  and  the  individual  elements  of  the  phe- 
nomena are  usually  commingled  in  most  motley  variety.  By 
far  the  greater  number  of  crossings  take  place  between 
parents,  whose  mutual  relations  do  not  wholly  fit  either 
the  one  or  the  other  concept,  but  where  the  characteristics 


FERTILIZATION  AND  HYBRIDIZATION.  553 

of  the  different  types  of  hybrids  are  intermingled.  I  can- 
not consider  these  cases  here ;  they  are  of  too  complicated 
a  nature  for  an  address. 

Only  one  point  I  wish  to  touch  upon.  In  the  preceding 
pages  I  have  always  taken  for  granted  that  the  species  and 
varieties  are  in  their  ordinary  and  unchanging  state.  But 
this  is  by  no  means  always  the  case.  The  origination  of 
new  species  and  varieties  demands  that  their  immutability 
should  not  be  absolute,  or  at  least  should  be  suspended 
from  time  to  time.  Experience  confirms  this  by  showing 
that  there  are  periods  in  the  life  of  species,  during  which 
they  are,  so  to  speak,  especially  inclined  to  produce  new 
types.  At  that  time  they  produce  the  new  varieties  and 
species,  not  only  once  but  repeatedly,  and  not  only  a  single 
one,  but  frequently  a  considerable  number.  Genera  rich 
in  species,  such  as  the  pansies  and  the  rock-roses,5  are  the 
remains  of  such  periods  of  variability,  and  everywhere  in 
nature  we  meet  with  similar  ones.  In  garden-plants  we 
see,  from  time  to  time,  periods  during  which  certain  varie- 
ties occur  by  preference,  as  the  double  dahlia  of  about  the 
middle  of  the  last  century,  the  forms  of  tomatoes  in  recent 
decades,  and  numerous  other  instances  teach  us.  On  its 
first  appearance  the  gardeners  call  the  new  form  a  con- 
quest, the  later  appearances  are  only  repetitions,  and  are 
therefore  of  only  very  secondary  practical  value. 

The  power  of  reproducing  one  or  more  new  species 
indicates  a  condition  of  unstable  equilibrium  of  the  given 
internal  units.  In  the  nuclei  the  new  characteristic  is  al- 
ready invisibly  present,  but  inactive.  Certain  causes,  un- 
known to  us,  can  transform  this  into  a  permanent  condi- 
tion. This  state  of  unstable  equilibrium  may  be  main- 
tained in  the  great  majority  of  individuals,  through  a  series 
of  generations,  as  is  the  case  with  my  Oenotheras.  But 
from  time  to  time,  sometimes  in  individual  cases,  every 

0  Sonnenroschen  (Helianthemum'). 


554  THE  MONIST. 

year,  there  is  a  shock,  and  the  equilibrium  becomes  stable. 
The  given  individuals  overstep  their  bounds,  abandon  the 
earlier  type,  and  form  a  new  species. 

It  is  evident  that  in  crossings  such  unstable  units  will 
behave  differently  from  normal,  stable  ones.  Their  chance 
of  becoming  stable  is  evidently  considerable,  owing  to  the 
phenomena  of  fertilization  and  the  exchange  of  units.  In 
this  way  constant  races  originate,  at  least  in  the  genus 
Oenothera,  and  this,  on  the  one  hand,  with  the  respective 
characteristic  in  an  unstable  condition,  or  in  other  words, 
in  a  state  of  mutability ;  and  on  the  other  hand  with  stable 
equilibrium  corresponding  to  a  new  species.  But  researches 
in  this  field  are  only  in  their  beginning,  and  do  not  yet 
permit  of  a  detailed  analysis.  Besides  they  represent,  for 
the  present,  a  case  in  themselves. 


On  reviewing,  in  conclusion,  the  course  of  our  deduc- 
tions, we  see  that  hybrids  follow  normal  fertilization  quite 
closely,  the  more  completely  the  less  numerous  and  the  less 
pronounced  the  points  of  difference  between  the  parents 
of  the  crossing.  If  these  are  of  such  a  kind  that  the  num- 
ber of  units  in  one  parent  is  different  from  that  in  the 
other,  disturbances  take  place  which,  if  of  lesser  influence, 
diminish  the  fertility  of  the  hybrids,  and  if  of  greater  sig- 
nificance, affect  their  own  power  of  development,  or  even 
make  the  crossing  a  failure.  If  these  units  are  present 
in  equal  numbers  on  both  sides,  and  if  the  differences  are 
limited  to  latency  in  one  parent  and  activity  in  the  other, 
the  normal  process  is  not  at  all  disturbed,  but  striking 
phenomena  occur,  which  find  their  explanation  in  the  pe- 
culiar manner  in  which  the  parental  inheritances  cooperate 
in  the  hybrid  and  in  the  formation  of  its  sexual  cells. 

This  cooperation  is  reflected  in  the  life  of  the  nuclei. 
In  fertilization  the  nuclei  of  father  and  mother  simply 


FERTILIZATION  AND  HYBRIDIZATION.  555 

touch  each  other.  In  the  course  of  development  the  con- 
tact becomes  gradually  closer,  bringing  their  equivalent 
elements  as  near  to  each  other  as  possible,  in  such  a  way 
that  the  latter  finally  all  lie  side  by  side  in  pairs.  But  the 
pronuclei  by  no  means  lose  their  independence  thereby,  and 
for  the  purpose  of  every  nuclear  division  they  separate 
their  component  parts  more  or  less  distinctly.  Shortly  be- 
fore their  separation,  their  leave-taking,  they  are  still  the 
same  as  before.  But  now  they  exchange  their  individual 
units,  and  thus  cause  the  creation  of  those  countless  com- 
binations of  characters,  of  which  nature  is  in  need  in  order 
to  make  species  as  plastic  as  possible,  and  to  empower  them 
to  adapt  themselves  in  the  highest  degree  to  their  ever 
changing  environment. 

This  increase  of  variability  and  of  the  power  of  indi- 
vidual adaptation  is  the  essential  purpose  of  sexual  repro- 
duction. It  can  be  attained  only  by  a  mutual  combination 
in  all  conceivable  forms  of  the.  peculiarities  developed  in 
different  individuals  in  different  directions  and  degrees. 
To  this  end  the  pronuclei  mutually  exchange  their  units 
from  time  to  time,  and  by  assuming,  on  the  ground  of  ex- 
periments with  hybrids,  that  this  takes  place,  on  the  whole, 
according  to  the  laws  of  chance,  that  is,  according  to  the 
theory  of  probability,  we  have  gained  a  basis  which  allows 
us  to  probe  to  its  very  bottom  this  most  significant  and 
mysterious  process. 

HUGO  DE  VRIES. 
AMSTERDAM,  HOLLAND. 


THE  NATURE  OF  VITAL  PROCESSES  ACCORD- 
ING TO  RIGNANO. 

[CONCLUDED.] 
EXPLANATION  OF  ASSIMILATION. 

(Rignano,  p.  356) :  "The  fact  that  strikes  us  first  of 
all  is,  that  the  vital  phenomenon  depends  upon  continual 
reproduction,  for  assimilation  constantly  reproduces  the 
substance  which  is  gradually  consumed.  It  is  to  be  ex- 
pected, therefore,  that  if  there  are  any  fundamental  prop- 
erties of  living  organic  substance  which  explain  the  phe- 
nomena of  development  or  of  reproduction  in  general,  they 
must  then  be  capable  of  accounting  for  assimilation  also 
inasmuch  as  it  is  itself  also  a  phenomenon  of  reproduction. 

"That  being  granted  it  will  be  worth  while  that  we 
next  stop  for  an  instant  to  take  a  look  at  and  consider 
briefly  a  few  of  the  principal  conceptions  which  biologists 
have  put  forward  on  the  nature  of  either  the  vital  phe- 
nomenon or  of  assimilation,  and  which  are  of  the  greatest 
interest  from  our  point  of  view. 

"Roux,  for  example,  rightly  urges  that  the  nature  of 
life  must  be  dynamic.  'Life  is  in  its  essence  a  process,  and 
cannot  therefore  have  a  static  definition.  It  is  therefore 
only  a  processive  and  consequently  functional  definition 
which  can  approximate  the  essence  of  organic  life.'1 

"On  the  other  side  we  have  already  seen  the  reasons 

1Roux,  Ueber  die  Bedeutung  der  Kerntheilungsfiguren.  Leipsic,  Engel- 
mann,  1883,  p.  18.  Gesamm.  Abhandl,  Bd.  II,  p.  142. 


VITAL  PROCESSES  ACCORDING  TO  RIGNANO.  557 

for  concluding  that  the  essence  of  the  vital  phenomenon 
consists  in  an  activation  of  nervous  energy.  We  recall 
that  according  to  Orr  for  example,  the  fundamental  prop- 
erty of  living  substance  is  an  'elemental  nervousness/2 

"We  have  already  seen  also  that  Claude  Bernard,  in 
agreement  with  that,  considers  the  sensibility  of  the  ner- 
vous substance  as  nothing  else  than  a  particular  modality 
of  irritability,  which  would  be  a  general  property  of  all 
living  substance.  'Sensibility/  writes  he,  'considered  as  a 
property  of  the  nervous  system,  is  only  a  higher  degree  of 
a  simpler  property  which  exists  everywhere  in  all  living 
substance  both  animal  and  vegetable.  It  has  nothing  essen- 
tial or  specifically  distinct.  It  is  the  special  irritability  of 
the  nerve  just  as  the  property  of  contraction  is  the  special 
irritability  of  the  muscle  and  as  the  property  of  secretion 
is  the  special  irritability  of  the  glandular  element.  These 
phenomena  are  so  many  different  degrees  of  one  and  the 
same  elementary  phenomenon.3 - 

"Bard  also  remarks,  that,  if  the  nature  of  the  energy 
constituting  the  basis  of  all  vital  phenomena  must  be  single, 
the  infinitely  varied  modalities  which  these  same  vital  phe- 
nomena present  must  then  be  due  to  as  many  correspond- 
ing modalities  of  this  single  energy."4 

Here  must  be  considered  the  conception  which  Rignano 
has  himself  formed  of  the  general  nature  of  vital  energy 
and  which  has  already  been  stated  in  the  introduction.  He 
says  (p.  361  ff.)  :  "Vital  energy,  nervous  energy,  we  must 
admit,  will  certainly  be  only  a  particular  case  of  more 
general  physico-chemical  forms  of  energy  already  known, 
or  yet  to  be  known,  and  as  such  must  necessarily  be  sub- 
ject to  the  laws  governing  the  latter,  and  also  a  fortiori  to 

8  Orr,  A  Theory  of  Development  and  Heredity.  New  York,  Macmillan, 
1893,  p.  86. 

8  Claude  Bernard,  Lemons  sur  les  phenomenes  de  la  vie  communs  aux  ani- 
maux  et  aux  vegetaux,  pp.  289-290. 

*Bard,  "La  specificite  cellulaire  et  ses  principales  consequences,"  La  se- 
maine  medicale.  Paris,  10.  Mars  1894,  p.  116. 


558  THE  MONIST. 

the  laws  governing  all  energy  in  general.  But  also  as.  such, 
i.  e.,  as  a  particular  case  of  more  general  physico-chemical 
forms  of  energy,  it  will  have  in  addition  special  laws  of 
its  own,  which  are  only  experimentally  to  be  determined, 
and  can  not  simply  be  deduced  from  the  more  general  laws, 
even  though  it  must  always  be  subjected  to  them  also. 
And  these  laws  of  its  own  are  exactly  what  make  of  it,  from 
a  simply  physico-chemical  energy,  vital  energy.  It  is  just 
this  conception  to  which  we  have  been  led  when  we  have 
attributed  to  nervous  energy,  taken  as  the  fundamental 
basis  of  life,  special  properties,  which  electric  energy,  in 
certain  respects  related  to  it,  does  not  on  the  contrary 
possess. 

"If,  passing  on  now  to  assimilation,  we  examine  the 
conception  which  the  biologists  have  made  of  it,  we  shall 
see  that  their  opinions  on  that  subject  are  quite  remark- 
ably concordant. 

"Thus,  for  example,  Lewes  says:  'The  peculiarity  of 
vital  processes  consists  in  this;  that  living  matter  under- 
goes molecular  changes  of  composition  and  decomposition 
which  are  simultaneous,  and  by  this  simultaneity  it  pre- 
serves its  integrity  of  structure/5 

"  'Life/  remarks  in  his  turn  Oscar  Hertwig,  'manifests 
itself,  expressed  in  the  most  general  terms,  in  this,  that  the 
cell,  by  virtue  of  its  own  organization  and  under  the  in- 
fluence of  the  external  world  undergoes  continual  changes 
and  develops  forces  whereby  its  organic  substance,  on  the 
one  hand  continually  destroyed  with  determined  mani- 
festations of  energy,  on  the  other  hand  is  regenerated.' 
The  life  process  depends  then  on  a  continual  destruction 
and  re-formation  of  organic  substance/6 

"But  the  clearest  and  most  suggestive  of  all  is  Claude 

'Lewes,  The  Physical  Basis  of  Mind.  London,  Kegan  Paul,  Trench, 
Triibner  &  Co.,  1893,  p.  5- 

'  Oscar  Hertwig,  Die  Zelle  und  die  Geivebe,  Bd.  I,  p.  54,  and  Bd.  II,  pp. 
190-191. 


VITAL  PROCESSES  ACCORDING  TO  RIGNANO.  559 

Bernard  in  the  following  celebrated  passage,  'The  char- 
acters of  life  considered  in  their  essence  and  in  their  en- 
tirety can  be  classed  in  two  great  groups: 

'i.  The  phenomena  of  consumption,  of  vital  destruc- 
tion, which  correspond  to  the  functional  phenomena  of  the 
organism. 

"  '2.  Plastic  phenomena  or  phenomena  of  vital  creation, 
which  correspond  to  functional  repose  and  to  organic  re- 
generation. 

'  'Everything  which  goes  on  in  the  living  being  is  in 
relation  to  one  or  other  of  these  types ;  and  life  is  charac- 
terized by  the  union  and  combination  of  these  two  orders 
of  phenomena. 

;  'Disorganization  or  "dis-assimilation"  uses  up  living 
material  while  the  organs  perform  their  functions.  Assimi- 
lative synthesis  regenerates  the  tissue.  It  reassembles  the 
reserve  materials  which  the  functioning  organism  must  use 
up.  These  two  processes  of  destruction  and  renovation, 
although  inverse,  are  absolutely  connected  and  inseparable, 
in  the  sense  at  least  that  destruction  is  the  necessary  con- 
dition of  renovation.  The  phenomena  of  functional  de- 
struction are  themselves  the  precursors  and  instigators  of 
material  renewal  of  the  formative  process  which  completes 
itself  silently  in  the  interior  of  the  tissues/7 

"  'But  the  underlying  reason/  says  Dastre,  'of  this 
interdependence  between  chemical  destruction  and  function 
is  made  recognizable  by  energetics.  A  part  of  the  organic 
material  (reserve  material,  but  also  living  protoplasm) 
becomes  decomposed,  chemically  simplified,  reduced  to  a 
lower  degree  of  complexity,  and  abandons  in  this  descent 
the  chemical  energy  which  it  enclosed  within  it  in  the  po- 
tential state. 

"  'Every  act  which  gives  out  energy,  which  produces 

7  Claude  Bernard,  Legons  sur  les  phenomenes  de  la  vie  communs  aux  ani- 
maux  et  aux  vegetaux,  pp.  125-127;  157;  347-348. 


560  THE  MONIST. 

heat,  or  movement,  every  manifestation  whatever  which 
can  be  regarded  as  a  transformation  of  energy,  necessarily 
consumes  energy,  and  this  is  borrowed  from  the  substances 
of  the  organism.  The  functioning  of  muscle  produces  heat 
and  movement,  the  functioning  of  glands  produces  heat, 
the  functioning  of  nerve  and  brain  produces  a  small  quan- 
tity of  electricity  and  heat.  All  these  manifestations  of 
energy  rest  upon  a  destruction  of  organic  matter,  a  chem- 
ical simplification  as  source  of  the  energy  manifested.  In 
this  way  material  destruction  not  only  coincides  with  func- 
tional activity  but  is  the  measure  and  the  expression  of  it. 

"  The  reconstruction  of  protoplasm  is  on  the  contrary 
a  phenomenon  of  evident  synthesis,  of  a  certain  chemical 
increase  of  complexity,  since  this  living  protoplasm  stands 
in  a  way  at  the  highest  stage  of  complexity.  Its  formation 
at  the  expense  of  simpler  nutritive  materials  requires  then 
an  appreciable  quantity  of  energy. 

The  phenomena  of  living  beings/  continues  Dastre, 
'may  be  divided  into  two  categories.  Some  are  intermit- 
tent, alternative  and  are  produced  or  accentuated  at  certain 
times  but  can  not  be  continuous.  These  are  functional 
processes.  There  are  others  in  which  this  property  of 
sudden  and  intermittent  expenditure  of  energy  does  not 
appear  at  all.  They  are  in  general  nutritive  processes. 
The  muscle  which  contracts,  functions.  It  has  an  activity 
and  a  repose.  During  this  apparent  repose  one  could  not 
say  that  it  was  dead.  It  has  life  and  this  is  here  obscure 
in  comparison  with  the  manifest  activity  of  the  functional 
movement. 

"  The  phenomena  of  functional  activity  are  those  which 
catch  the  eye  and  by  which  we  are  inclined  to  characterize 
life.  These  are  conditional  upon  processes  of  consump- 
tion, of  chemical  simplification,  of  organic  destruction 
through  which  energy  is  set  free.  And  it  is  quite  neces- 
sary that  it  should  be  so  since  these  functional  manifesta- 


VITAL  PROCESSES  ACCORDING  TO  RIGNANO.  561 

tions  expend  energy.  These  phenomena  in  which  vital  ac- 
tivities are  most  apparent  are  the  least  specific.  They 
have  only  the  character  of  general  phenomena. 

'The  phenomena  which  accompany  functional  repose 
correspond  to  the  reconstruction  of  the  reserve  materials 
destroyed  in  the  preceding  period,  to  organic  synthesis. 
This  remains  in  the  words  of  Claude  Bernard,  "internal, 
silent,  hidden  in  the  expression  of  its  nature,  reassembling 
silently  the  materials  to  be  expended.  We  never  see  these 
phenomena  of  organization  directly.  Only  the  histologist, 
the  embryologist  tracing  the  development  of  the  element 
or  of  the  living  being  notes  the  changes,  the  phases  which 
discover  to  him  this  homely  work,  here  a  deposition  of 
material,  there  the  formation  of  a  membrane  or  a  nucleus, 
yonder  a  cleavage  or  a  folding,  or  a  renovation."  This 
category  of  phenomena  is  the  only  one  which  has  no  direct 
analogues.  It  is  peculiar  to  the  living  being  and  limited 
to  it.  This  developmental  synthesis  is  the  true  vital  phe- 
nomenon. Life  is  a  creation/8 

"This  new  formation  of  living  matter  which  goes  on 
during  the  so-called  functional  rest  we  must  then  seek  to 
explain  through  the  properties  which  we  have  postulated 
above  for  nervous  energy  taken  as  the  basis  of  the  vital 
phenomenon. 

"For  this  purpose  let  us  suppose  in  conformity  with  the 
hypothesis  set  forth  above  that  one  could  construct  an  ele- 
mentary electric  accumulator  capable  of  furnishing  a  sin- 
gle given  intensity  or  specificity  of  current  and  that  its 
electro-motive  force  or  difference  of  potential  between  the 
poles  is  proportional  to  the  mass  of  substance  constituting 
its  charge ;  as  if  each  new  increment  however  small  of  this 
mass  constituted  an  element  by  itself  which  would  be  added 
in  serial  order  to  the  others. 

8Dastre,  La  vie  et  la  mort.  Paris:  Flammarion,  1902,  pp.  103,  107,  208- 
209,  210-211. 


562  THE  MONIST. 

"Let  us  consider  two  of  these  accumulators,  A  and  A' ', 
inserted  with  their  poles  inverted  in  the  same  circuit.  Sup- 
pose they  are  quite  identical,  except  that  the  one,  A',  is 
entirely  without  charge  and  the  other,  A,  has  its  full 
charge.  Let  us  suppose  that  the  current,  c,  generated  by 
A  which  tends  to  charge  A'  can  under  certain  circum- 
stances cause  an  oscillatory  discharge,  i.  e.,  a  continuous 
oscillation  of  the  current,  now  in  the  direction  of  c,  now 
in  the  contrary  direction  of  c' ,  and  that  certain  external 
alternating  currents  could  induce  in  the  oscillating  circuit 
sinusoidal  electro-motive  forces  of  the  same  frequence  as 
this  oscillating  discharge  and  thereby  strengthen  the  sinu- 


soidal  electro-motive  force  of  the  latter  which  at  the  be- 
ginning was  determined  by  the  original  difference  in  charge 
of  the  two  accumulators  A  and  A '. 

"Then  with  each  half  oscillation  the  one  accumulator 
will  become  more  strongly  charged  in  proportion  as  the 
other  discharges,  and  there  will  be  produced  as  final  result 
a  series  of  oscillations  with  a  consequent  continual  increase 
of  the  total  mass  of  the  two  accumulators  A  and  A',  as  long 
as  the  saline  solution  serving  as  their  common  aliment  is 
not  insufficient. 

"If  the  amount  of  electro-motive  force  contributed  by 
the  induction  current  at  each  oscillation  is  proportional  to 
the  amount  of  electro-motive  force  which  is  directlv  de- 


VITAL  PROCESSES  ACCORDING  TO  RIGNANO.  563 

pendent  upon  the  difference  in  charge  between  the  two 
accumulators  existing  at  any  moment,  if  for  example,  it 
represents  a  definite  fraction  of  the  latter,  and  thereby 
will  gradually  decrease  in  amount  as  this  difference  be- 
tween the  two  charges  becomes  less  with  each  oscillation, 
then  both  the  amount  of  this  difference  and  that  of  the  in- 
duced electro-motive  force  will  sink  to  nothing  after  a  cer- 
tain period  of  time,  theoretically  infinitely  long,  practically 
more  or  less  short,  which  we  can  call  the  period  of  recon- 
stitution  or  of  replacement  of  material  consumed. 

"As  soon  as  the  charges  of  the  two  accumulators  have 
become  equal  there  will  exist  no  more  provocation  of  oscil- 
lating currents  and  the  total  mass  of  the  two  accumulators 
whose  increase  had  become  always  smaller  and  smaller 
will  now  not  increase  any  further  at  all. 

"But  if  at  this  instant  either  of  the  two  accumulators 
suddenly  becoming  inserted  aside  from  its  own  oscillating 
circuit  at  the  same  time  also  into  one  of  the  ordinary  cir- 
cuits, discharges  into  the  latter  wholly  or  partially,  then 
the  difference  between  the  respective  charges  of  the  two 
accumulators  will  again  be  present  and  the  former  process 
of  oscillation  will  begin  again.  And  this  will  result  again 
in  the  increase  of  the  total  mass  of  the  two  accumulators 
above  the  amount  which  it  had  already  reached  before  this 
last  discharge.  We  can  compare  this  discharge  of  one  of 
the  two  accumulators  outside  the  circuit  of  oscillation, 
with  the  nervous  discharge  from  the  nucleus  into  its  en- 
vironment, that  is,  with  the  biological  functional  excitation 
which  produces  the  same  trophic  effect. 

"Further,  if  at  the  moment  when  the  two  accumulators 
have  arrived  at  the  condition  of  equality  between  their 
respective  charges  and  so  of  repose,  one  of  them,  instead 
of  becoming  discharged  into  another  circuit,  becomes  re- 
placed by  a  third  accumulator  whose  charge  is  different 
from  the  other  two  now  equalized  charges,  the  result  will 


564  THE  MONIST. 

be  the  same.  And  the  impulse  given  to  the  process  of  os- 
cillation will  be  greater,  the  greater  the  difference  between 
the  charge  or  electro-motive  force  of  the  new  accumulator 
and  of  the  old  one  replaced.  In  other  words,  to  make  use 
of  biological  expressions:  the  rejuvenescence  of  the  spe- 
cific potential  elements  formed  by  the  pair  of  accumulators 
will  be  proportionally  greater,  the  more  quantitatively  un- 
equal are  the  two  half  elements  which  have  become  thus 
mutually  fecundated. 

"If  we  substitute  for  the  conception  of  electro-motive 
force  that  of  nervo-motive  force,  our  hypothesis  concern- 
ing the  nature  of  the  vital  process  in  each  specific  potential 
element  or  mnemonic  element  will  consist  simply  in  sup- 
posing that  the  latter  is  comparable  to  this  pair  of  accumu- 
lators inserted  with  inverted  poles  in  the  same  elemental 
oscillating  circuit,  which  we  would  call  intra-nuclear  cir- 
cuit, but  in  which  there  enters  into  play  instead  of  the 
alternating  electric  induction  current,  general  thermal  en- 
ergy in  the  same  way. 

"Assimilation,  the  new  formation  of  living  substance, 
would  then  be  dependent,  according  to  this  hypothesis, 
upon  a  kind  of  rhythmic  oscillatory  charging  and  dis- 
charging flux,  upon  a  kind  of  intra-nuclear  oscillatory 
discharge  which  becomes  induced  by  the  extra-nuclear  or 
functional  nervous  discharge  in  consequence  of  the  dis- 
turbance of  the  equilibrium  between  the  nervo-motive 
forces  of  the  two  accumulators  opposite  each  other.  The 
vital  element  would  thus  be  conceived  of  as  only  a  double 
specific  elemental  accumulator  of  nervous  energy  in  con- 
tinual charge  and  discharge. 

"As  will  be  noted  we  have  here  a  phenomenon  in  some 
respects  similar  to  the  electric  resonators  of  Hertz,  in 
which  an  electric  discharge  caused  by  the  difference  of 
potential  existing  between  the  two  armatures  of  a  con- 
denser, is  transformed  into  an  oscillating  discharge.  It 


VITAL  PROCESSES  ACCORDING  TO  RIGNANO.  565 

will  be  appropriate  here  to  indicate  briefly  in  just  what  this 
phenomenon  consists. 

"Let  A  and  B  be  the  armatures  of  a  charged  condenser 
which  are  suddenly  connected  with  each  other  by  an  ex- 
ternal conductor,  ArMLB,  in  such  a  way  that  the  latter 
makes  a  circuit  open  only  at  the  point  D  of  the  di-electric. 
In  the  accompanying  figure  r  represents  the  total  resistance 
of  the  circuit  and  L  the  inductance  or  coefficient  of  self- 
induction  of  this  circuit.  When  the  capacity  c  of  the  con- 
denser and  the  inductance  L  of  the  circuit  are  in  a  certain 
relation  to  each  other,  and  r  is  small,  we  can  get  an  oscil- 
latory discharge  which  forms  as  it  were  a  sinusoidal  alter- 

A  DB 


M 

nating  current:  that  is,  the  electricity  oscillates  from  A 
toward  B  and  from  B  toward  A,  with  a  frequency  deter- 
mined by  the  inductance  L  and  the  capacity  c.  If  we  cause 
the  resistance  r  of  the  circuit  to  become  constantly  less  by 
employing  wires  of  constantly  increasing  thickness,  we 
approach  the  boundary  at  which  this  oscillation  will  be 
able  of  itself  to  continue  indefinitely. 

"If  in  this  case  where  r  is  very  small,  we  excite  in  the 
circuit  by  induction  sinusoidal  alternating  electro-motive 
forces  of  the  same  frequence  as  in  the  oscillatory  discharge, 
then  there  will  arise  in  A  and  B  differences  of  very  many 
volts  even  though  the  number  of  volts  so  induced  be  very 
small. 


566  THE  MONIST. 

"Upon  this  principle  depends,  as  is  well  known,  the 
celebrated  experiments  of  Hertz  which  in  turn  have  formed 
the  point  of  departure  for  wireless  telegraphy. 

"It  is  well  known  also  that  such  an  electric  resonator 
has  been  rightly  compared  to  a  vibrating  dynamic  system, 
to  a  pendulum  that  has  an  oscillation  time  of  its  own,  to 
a  sounding  chord  which  the  smallest  impulses  having  the 
same  frequence  as  itself  can  set  in  vibration,  even  in  strong 
vibration.  What  happens  in  it  is  a  continual  periodic  trans- 
formation of  energy.  At  the  instant  when  the  sinusoidal 
alternating  current  reaches  its  maximum  intensity,  one  has 
the  maximum  of  actual  energy,  while  the  condenser,  on 
the  other  hand,  possesses  then  no  potential  energy  what- 
ever. At  the  instant  when  the  intensity  of  the  current 
drops  to  nothing,  the  condenser  shows  the  greatest  defor- 
mation of  the  respective  di-electric  and  possesses  thus  a 
potential  energy  fully  equal  to  the  actual  energy  possessed 
by  the  discharge  at  the  moment  of  its  greatest  intensity, 
the  process  being  thus  exactly  the  same  as  in  a  pendulum 
in  which  potential  energy  is  transformed  continually  into 
actual  and  vice  versa. 

"It  will  be  sufficient  here,  for  the  purpose  of  a  remote 
comparison,  to  note  the  fact  just  indicated,  that  an  induced 
sinusoidal  alternating  electro-motive  force  in  such  an 
electric  resonator,  which  need  amount  to  only  a  very  few 
volts,  provided  that  it  be  of  the  same  frequency  as  the 
oscillating  discharge,  will  be  able  to  induce  in  A  and  B 
differences  of  tension  which  may  amount  to  many  volts. 
For  if  we  assume  in  the  current  so  oscillating  the  faculty 
of  depositing  in  each  of  the  armatures  of  the  condenser 
infinitely  small  particles  of  substance  in  series  one  after 
the  other,  until  the  total  of  their  mass  and  the  conse- 
quent electro-motive  force  surpass  the  electro-motive  force 
in  the  opposite  direction,  which  this  current  possesses  at 
this  point  and  at  this  moment,  then  it  will  not  be  diffi- 


VITAL  PROCESSES  ACCORDING  TO  RIGNANO.  567 

cult  for  us  to  understand  the  case  in  certain  respects  anal- 
ogous, which  we  have  assumed  for  the  oscillating  nervous 
discharges,  in  which  the  calorific  oscillations  which  replace 
here  the  oscillations  of  the  induction  current  continually 
increase  the  mass  of  living  substance,  which  will  in  this 
way  be  'assimilated.' 

"Let  us  note  that  in  the  case  of  nervous  currents  we 
must  assume  that  their  specificity  is  constant  even  during 
the  oscillation.  At  the  same  time,  however,  the  duration 
of  each  nervous  discharge,  and  hence  of  each  oscillation 
also,  in  cases  where  the  specificity  i  of  the  nervous  current 
is  something  dynamically  equivalent  to  the  intensity  of  the 
electric  current,  must  be  definite  and  constant  for  every 
given  specificity. 

"For  let  us  consider  again  an  electric  current.  If  its 
intensity  i  persists  for  a  time  t,  the  total  actual  energy  fur- 
nished during  the  whole  of  this  time  by  this  current  will 
be  Eit,  where  E  represents  the  jelectro-motive  force.  But 
this  total  energy  will  necessarily  be  proportional  to  the 
mass  M  of  the  substance  whose  decomposition  during 
the  time  t  has  produced  this  current;  one  has  thus  Eit 
=  km,  where  h  is  a  coefficient  of  proportionality,  de- 
pendent solely  upon  the  units  of  measure  selected.  But 
if  the  supposition  which  we  have  accepted  for  nervous 
currents  in  general  holds  good  also  for  this  electric  cur- 
rent, namely,  that  the  electro-motive  force  is  proportional 
also  to  the  mass  of  substance  which  tends  by  decomposition 
to  produce  the  current,  then  also  is  E  =  km,  where  k  again 
is  a  coefficient  of  proportionality  dependent  likewise  solely 
upon  the  units  of  measure  which  are  adopted.  Conse- 
quently the  above  equation  would  take  on  the  following 
form: 

km.it  =  hm,  that  is, 

it  =  h/k  =  H, 
where  H  again  is  another  coefficient  of  proportionality  and 


568  THE  MONIST. 

dependent  alone  upon  the  units  of  measure  already  fixed 
above,  that  is,  upon  a  selected,  constant  number.  It  follows 
from  this,  that  it  is  constant.  And  if  i  in  its  turn  is  like- 
wise constant  for  each  specific  current,  t  must  also  be 
constant;  i.  e.,  each  definite  specificity  of  current,  i  will 
correspond  to  a  likewise  determinate  and  constant  period 
of  discharge. 

"If  then,  no  matter  what  conditions  the  different  dis- 
charges of  a  current  of  the  specificity  i  may  induce,  all 
these  discharges  can  have  invariably  only  the  same  dura- 
tion t  and  if  this  holds  also  for  those  which  constitute  the 
oscillating  discharge,  then  the  oscillation  itself,  which  con- 
sists of  a  doubled  discharge,  of  which  each  one  has  a  di- 
rection contrary  to  that  of  the  other  as  we  stated  above, 
will  have  necessarily  a  very  definite  and  constant  period 
of  its  own  which  corresponds  each  time  to  the  particular 
specificity  i  of  its  respective  current. 

"It  follows  that  of  all  the  vibrations  of  the  different 
calorific  rays,  only  those  which  have  the  same  oscillatory 
period  as  the  element  being  reconstituted  will  be  able  to 
some  extent  to  give  to  the  oscillating  discharge  of  the  latter 
an  impulse  which  will  be  added  to  that  received  through  the 
difference  in  potential  of  the  pair  of  accumulators,  and  thus 
to  have  identically  the  same  effect  as  that  which  the  sinu- 
soidal electric  alternating  induction  current  has  upon  the 
electric  accumulator  with  an  equal  period  of  vibration.  And 
this  becomes  so  much  the  more  clear  since  Maxwell's  theory, 
of  which  it  is  scarcely  necessary  to  remind  any  one,  and 
which  was  wholly  confirmed  by  the  Hertzian  experiments, 
has  demonstrated  the  essential  identity  of  these  electric 
induction  oscillations  across  the  di-electric  formed  by  the 
air,  with  light  and  heat  vibrations  in  general.  The  only 
difference  consists  in  the  period  of  vibration  which  in  both 
the  latter  is  much  more  rapid  than  in  the  former. 

"Thermal  energy  then,  whether  that  which  comes  from 


VITAL  PROCESSES  ACCORDING  TO  RIGNANO.  569 

the  irradiation  of  the  sun  and  from  the  outer  world  in 
general,  or  that  which  is  developed  from  chemical  pro- 
cesses of  decomposition  and  oxidation  taking  place  in  the 
interior  of  the  organism,  would,  in  as  far  as  it  is  composed 
of  heat  rays  of  the  most  different  periods  of  oscillation, 
constitute  the  general  external  stimulus  which  actuates 
indifferently  all  vital  processes  whatever.  Particular  kinds 
of  energy,  which  oscillatory  periods  varying  within  nar- 
row limits  and  possibly  even  with  a  single  vibratory  pe- 
riod, such  as  the  rays  of  each  of  the  elemental  colors 
of  the  solar  spectrum  would  constitute  on  the  other  hand, 
special  external  stimuli  which  activate  only  the  vital  en- 
ergies of  this  or  that  corresponding  specificity. 

EXPLANATION  OF  NUCLEAR  SOMATIZATION. 

"Therefore  if  we  suppose  a  cell  to  exist  whose  nucleus 
contains  at  the  same  time  various  specific  elements,  each 
having  a  specific  vibration  period  of  its  own,  and  if  we 
assume  that  this  cell  is  thenceforth  always  exposed  to  the 
same  external  stimulus  with  a  constant  vibration  period, 
then  among  all  the  mnemonic  elements,  that  one  which  is 
syntonic  with  this  external  stimulus  will  increase  in  mass 
since  it  absorbs  always  larger  quantities  of  the  nutritive 
fluid,  and  at  the  expense  of  all  the  other  elements,  so  that 
in  this  way  it  may  result  that  it  supplant  them  all  and 
remain  the  sole  survivor.  We  may  express  this  process 
by  saying  that  the  cell  has  undergone  a  complete  nuclear 
somatization. 

"Let  us  assume  inversely  that  a  cell  whose  nucleus  con- 
tains one  or  several  mnemonic  elements  is  exposed  at  the 
same  time  as  to  the  other  stimuli,  also  to  a  new  external 
stimulus,  whose  vibration  period  may  differ  from  all  those 
of  the  mnemonic  elements  already  present.  Then  we  can 
assume  that  this  new  vibration  period  may  communicate 
its  own  frequency  to  one  of  the  oscillating  discharges  al- 


57O  THE  MONIST. 

ready  present  and  probably  not  to  the  whole  nervous  cur- 
rent constituting  one  of  these  discharges,  but  to  only  a  part 
of  it,  i.  e.,  it  will  make  it  syntonic  with  itself.  The  result 
will  be  the  gradual  deposition  of  a  new  specific  substance 
or  mnemonic  element  which,  if  this  new  external  stimulus 
does  not  permanently  displace  all  the  others  but  co-exists 
or  alternates  with  them,  will  merely  add  itself  to  the  pre- 
existing. We  may  express  this  process  by  saying  that  the 
cell  has  experienced  the  influence  of  the  new  stimulus  to 
which  it  has  been  exposed,  or  that  it  has  experienced  the 
'imprint'  of  the  new  condition  through  which  it  has  passed. 

"It  is  the  same  thing  if  we  say  that  instead  of  being 
exposed  to  a  new  external  stimulus,  having  a  rhythm  differ- 
ent from  all  the  preceding,  the  nucleus  is  constrained,  in 
consequence  of  any  given  new  functional  adaptation  on  the 
part  of  itself  or  of  its  immediate  environment,  to  divide 
some  one  of  its  specific  currents  into  two  or  more  compo- 
nents, or  indeed,  to  receive  some  new  specific  current  de- 
rived from  the  combination  of  other  specific  currents  of 
the  environment. 

"In  the  circumstance  that  at  each  alteration  of  any 
period  of  oscillation  or  of  any  specificity  of  current  through 
the  action  of  a  new  stimulus,  external  or  internal,  there 
follows  immediately  the  deposition  of  a  new  substance 
which  adds  itself  to  all  the  others  already  present  and 
remaining  unaltered,  and  which  is  capable  of  exciting  only 
such  currents  as  are  syntonic  or  specifically  identical  with 
that  by  which  it  was  itself  deposited;  in  this  circumstance 
the  first  and  fundamental  mnemonic  process  underlying 
all  living  substance  would  consist.  From  it  would  then 
spring  directly  all  the  other  processes,  from  histologic  dif- 
ferentiation and  the  inheritance  of  acquired  characters  up 
to  mnemonic  phenomena  proper. 

"Let  us  note  that  for  each  specific  discharge,  for  the 
intra-nuclear  oscillating  as  well  as  for  the  extra-nuclear 


VITAL  PROCESSES  ACCORDING  TO  RIGNANO. 

functional,  there  will  correspond  very  definite  substances 
of  dissimilation,  for  the  different  specificities  of  the  nervous 
currents  can  be  due  only  to  the  decomposition  of  sub- 
stances similarly  different.  And  even  if  the  diversity  of 
these  extremely  complex  and  unstable  substances  consists 
only  in  the  different  number  and  different  mode  of  group- 
ing of  the  same  atoms  of  the  principal  elements  which  con- 
stitute all  organic  substance,  nevertheless  the  respective 
substances  of  dissimilation  to  which  each  of  these  complex 
substances  will  give  rise,  will  necessarily  be  different  from 
one  another.  These  substances  of  dissimilation,  definite 
and  peculiar  for  each  specific  discharge,  will  in  their  turn 
afford,  by  their  entire  or  partial  oxidation,  products  of  ex- 
cretion and  secretion  quite  definite  and  differing  from  one 
cell  to  another.  These  products,  in  their  turn,  thanks  to 
their  peculiar  physico-chemical  properties,  will  impress 
upon  the  protoplasm  or  cytoplasm  a  corresponding  physico- 
chemical  character.  And  as  at  the  same  time  the  deposi- 
tion and  the  arrangement  of  these  materials  in  the  body  of 
the  cell  is  a  consequence,  in  part  of  the  physico-chemical 
properties  inherent  in  them,  in  part  of  the  paths,  which 
the  respective  extra-nuclear  nervous  discharges  or  currents 
will  have  followed  in  the  cytoplasm  according  to  their  spec- 
ificity, so  it  is  conceivable  how  the  ensemble  of  the  mne- 
monic elements  constituting  a  given  nucleus  can  determine 
its  own  protoplasm  or  cytoplasm  both  from  the  purely 
physico-chemical  and  from  the  properly  morphological 
point  of  view. 

"We  arrive  thus  at  a  constant  double  correlation  be- 
tween the  cytoplasm,  the  species  of  nuclear  excitation  and 
the  substance  of  the  nucleus.  The  nuclear  substance,  in 
fact  will  determine  at  once  the  rhythm  of  charge  and  dis- 
charge, and  the  specificity  of  the  corresponding  nervous 
current;  and  this  specificity  of  current,  thanks  to  the  sub- 
stances of  dissimilation  to  which  it  will  give  rise,  will  de- 


572  THE  MONIST. 

termine  the  respective  cytoplasm.  Conversely,  the  rhythm, 
once  it  is  modified  by  the  functional  stimulus,  will  imme- 
diately induce  the  corresponding  modification  of  the  speci- 
ficity of  current;  and  the  latter  in  its  turn  will  at  once  de- 
termine the  substance  of  synthetization  or  nuclear  sub- 
stance, as  also  the  substances  of  dissimilation  of  which  the 
cytoplasm  is  constituted. 

"It  is  not  excluded  either  that  chemical  substances 
which  may  act  upon  the  cytoplasm  and  modify  it  chemically 
can  facilitate  the  formation  of  such  or  such  substances  of 
dissimilation  and  thus  facilitate  the  production  of  such  or 
such  new  specificities  of  currents  which  in  their  turn  will 
deposit  or  determine  the  respective  nuclear  substance.  In 
other  words,  we  do  not  exclude  that  besides  the  physical 
functional  stimuli  which  preferably  influence  the  vital 
rhythm  directly,  there  may  also  exist  chemical  functional 
stimuli,  which  act  directly,  rather  upon  the  nervous  spe- 
cificity. But  thanks  to  the  close  correlation  between  the 
specificity  and  the  rhythm  of  these  currents,  both  come  to 
the  same  result,  namely  that  each  contributes  its  respective 
mnemonic  element  to  the  nuclear  substance." 

(Pp.  319-320) :  "Let  us  note,  parenthetically,  that  nu- 
clear somatization  conceded,  we  must  regard  each  of  the 
substances  which  make  up  the  different  specific  potential 
elements  of  any  nucleus  as  capable  of  gradually  replacing 
the  others  by  continual  increase  of  its  mass,  when  the  re- 
spective specific  current,  on  account  of  the  incessant  repe- 
tition always  of  only  one  and  the  same  stimulus  passes 
very  frequently  through  the  nucleus.  A  nucleus  thus  soma- 
tized, — that  is  to  say,  one  composed  wholly  of  a  single 
specific  substance  and  which  would  acquire  in  this  way, 
on  account  of  the  considerable  mass  of  this  substance  a 
potential  energy  capable  of  overcoming  a  considerable  re- 
sistance to  its  discharge,  will  then  be  able  to  respond  to 
stimulus  always  in  that  single  way  only  which  corresponds 


VITAL  PROCESSES  ACCORDING  TO  RIGNANO.  573 

to  the  single  specific  nervous  current  which  it  is  able 
to  activate  and  which  constitutes  its  irritability,  even  if  it 
be  provoked  to  discharge  by  external  influences  or  acci- 
dental stimuli  which  are  quite  different  from  those  to  which 
it  is  ordinarily  exposed.  'A  muscle  cell/  says  Oscar  Hert- 
wig,  'replies  to  every  kind  of  stimulus  by  contraction,  a 
gland  cell  by  secretion;  an  optic  nerve  can  perceive  only 
light,  no  matter  whether  it  be  stimulated  by  light  waves, 
by  electricity  or  by  pressure.  Similarly  plant  cells  also  are 
endowed  with  their  own  specific  energies :  the  reaction  to 
stimulation  receives  everywhere  its  specific  stamp  from  the 
particular  structure  of  the  irritable  substance,  or  in  other 
words,  irritability  is  a  fundamental  property  of  living  pro- 
toplasm, but  under  the  action  of  the  environment  mani- 
fests itself  in  specific  reactions  according  to  the  structure 
of  that  protoplasm.'  "9 

Resuming  again  (pp.  377  ff.)  :  "Let  us  summarize  what 
has  been  said.  The  specific  potential  elements  which  have 
presented  themselves  above  as  specific  elementary  accumu- 
lators, and  as  mnemonic  elements,  appear  now  as  specific 
vital  elements,  that  is,  as  the  smallest  possible  particles  of 
organic  substance  capable  of  life.  At  the  same  time  the 
denominations  potential  element  and  vital  element,  which 
might  at  first  have  appeared  incompatible  with  each  other, 
if  the  adjective  potential  had  indicated  a  vital  nonactivity 
at  that  time,  become  entirely  compatible  in  consequence 
of  the  hypothesis  which  we  have  just  set  forth.  According 
to  this  hypothesis,  the  element  would  be  potential  in  so  far 
as  each  of  the  two  coupled  accumulators  would  be  able  to 
furnish  at  need  its  proper  extra-nuclear  functional  ner- 
vous discharge ;  and  it  would  at  the  same  time  he  conceived 
as  in  a  vital  process  by  reason  of  the  intra-nuclear  oscilla- 
ting discharge,  which  continues  incessantly  between  the 
two  accumulators.  Vital  energy  could  thus  present  itself 

9  Oscar  Hertwig,  Die  Zelle  und  die  Gewebe,  I,  p.  76. 


574  THE  MONIST. 

in  three  distinct  modes :  ( I )  In  the  potential,  properly  so 
called,  which  expresses  itself  in  the  phenomena  of  effective 
suspension  of  life  or  lethargy  in  its  widest  sense;  (2)  In 
the  oscillatory  potential,  or  the  intra-nuclear  oscillating 
discharge,  which  constitutes  the  essence  of  the  period  of 
so-called  'functional  repose/  'organic  reconstitution/  'stor- 
age of  materials  afterwards  to  be  consumed/  'assimilative 
synthesis/  or  Vital  creation';  (3)  Finally  in  the  actual 
proper,  or  the  extra-nuclear  non-oscillating  discharge, 
which  constitutes  the  period  of  'excitation/  'functional 
activity/  'wear  and  tear/  'consumption  of  material  stored 
up  in  the  rest  period/  'disassimilation/  or  Vital  destruc- 
tion/ 

"In  this  way,  the  fact  upon  which  Dastre  rightly  insists, 
that  'after  the  explosive  destruction  of  a  chemical  reserve/ 
constituting  the  functional  activity,  the  living  substance 
still  always  preserves  in  the  state  of  repose  which  succeeds 
the  same  properties  though  attenuated,  which  it  manifested 
in  the  state  of  activity,  would  find  an  immediate  explana- 
tion. Hence  the  period  of  repose  cannot  be  of  another 
nature  than  that  of  the  state  of  activity  as  Claude  Bernard 
was  inclined  to  think.  'To-day/  writes  Dastre,  'if  we  had 
to  express  a  more  personal  opinion  upon  this  important 
distinction  of  functional  activity  and  functional  repose, 
we  should  say  that,  after  having  distinguished  the  two 
categories  of  phenomena  it  is  necessary  to  try  to  bring 
them  together.  It  is  necessary,  for  example,  to  seek  what 
there  is  in  common  between  the  muscle  in  repose,  and  the 
muscle  in  contraction,  and  to  perceive  in  the  muscular  tonus 
a  sort  of  bridge  thrown  between  the  two  conditions.  The 
function  would  experience  no  interruption,  but  it  would 
have  its  degrees.  The  muscular  tonus  would  be  the  per- 
manent condition  of  an  activity  which  is  merely  susceptible 
of  being  considerably  heightened  or  weakened/10 

10  Dastre,  La  vie  et  la  mort,  p.  212. 


VITAL  PROCESSES  ACCORDING  TO  RIGNANO.  575 

"As  conclusion  of  our  exposition  let  us  note  very  briefly 
that  for  three  more  of  the  most  fundamental  phenomena 
associated  with  vital  activity  this  hypothesis  upon  the  na- 
ture of  life  presents  at  least  the  beginning  of  an  explana- 
tion. These  are :  rhythmicity,  a  characteristic  property  of 
all  life  phenomena ;  the  phenomena  of  fecundation  and  re- 
juvenescence in  general;  and  nuclear  division  with  all  its 
characteristic  and  remarkable  details. 

EXPLANATION  OF  RHYTHMICITY  OR   PERIODICITY. 

"A  whole  series  of  facts  forces  us  to  the  opinion,  that 
rhythmicity  should  be  reckoned  among  the  most  general 
characteristics  of  the  modes  of  manifestation  of  vital  en- 
ergy. Beyond  the  fact  that  nearly  all,  and  perhaps  all 
external  physical  stimuli,  from  the  thermal  and  luminous 
to  the  acoustic  are  characterized  by  vibrations ;  and  beyond 
the  other  fact,  a  consequence  of  the  first,  of  the  physio- 
logical action  exercised  by  musical  rhythms  and  intervals 
for  example,  and  by  all  the  rhythmical  manifestations  of 
the  most  diverse  energies,  we  see  that  a  more  or  less  mani- 
fest and  more  or  less  regular  periodicity  is  a  fundamental 
character  of  all  or  nearly  all  biological  functions.  One 
thinks  at  once  for  example  of  the  synchronous  rhythm  of 
all  the  peristomal  cilia  of  an  infusorian — a  rhythm  which 
manifests  itself  in  the  two  parts  of  an  animal  which  has 
been  divided,  provided  these  parts  remain  connected  by  a 
bridge  of  protoplasm ;  of  the  rhythmicity  present  in  the  pro- 
tozoa in  general,  present  even  within  the  cells  in  the  pulsa- 
tion of  contractile  vacuoles,  which  empty  and  refill  them- 
selves continually  at  regular  intervals;  of  the  beat  of  the 
heart,  even  independent  of  its  connection  with  the  nervous 
system;  of  the  similar  pulsations  of  the  whole  vascular 
system,  the  entire  breathing  apparatus,  the  uterus,  and  of 
many  other  organs ;  and  finally  of  the  periodicity  of  a  whole 
series  of  physiological  variations,  which  animals  and  plants 


THE  MONIST. 

undergo  as  a  result  of  corresponding  periodical  variations 
of  the  outer  world,  but  which  persist  unaltered  for  some 
time  even  when  the  outer  world  or  the  periodicity  of  its 
variations  may  have  changed. 

"Now  it  is  not  difficult  to  conceive  of  this  rhythmicity 
or  periodicity  which  nearly  all  biological  functions  present, 
as  a  consequence  more  or  less  direct  or  indirect  of  the  vital 
phenomenon  in  all  its  generality,  when  this  phenomenon, 
be  it  only  in  so  far  as  a  phenomenon  of  assimilation,  is  itself 
essentially  a  rhythmic  phenomenon. 

EXPLANATION  OF  FECUNDATION. 

"In  regard  to  fecundation  we  know  that  it  was  Spencer 
who  first  recognized  what  has  been  more  or  less  explicitly 
accepted  by  others,  that  it  consisted  probably  in  a  purtur- 
bation  of  an  equilibrium  which  tended  toward  a  stability 
unfavorable  to  vital  activity.11 

"Now  we  have  already  seen  how  our  hypothesis  set 
forth  above  is  able  to  make  at  once  conceivable  in  what 
this  equilibrium  unfavorable  to  vital  activity  may  consist. 
According  to  this  hypothesis,  it  would  consist  in  the  equali- 
zation toward  which  the  masses,  and  the  corresponding 
potentials,  of  the  coupled  accumulators  of  each  mnemonic 
element  would  tend  and  which  they  would  eventually  at- 
tain, and  this  equilibrium  would  be  disturbed  by  the  sub- 
stitution for  one  of  these  accumulators  of  another  specific- 
ally equal  to  it  but  differing  in  mass  and  potential.  And  it 
is  precisely  in  this  function  of  fecundation,  of  replacing  in 
each  couple  one  of  the  specific  accumulators  by  another 
differing  quantitatively  as  widely  as  possible  that  we  find 
an  explanation  of  the  fact  that  the  rejuvenation  of  the 
germ  and  the  consequent  vitality  of  the  progeny  to  which 
fecundation  tends,  are  proportionally  greater  when  fecun- 
dation occurs  not  between  individuals  too  closely  alike,  but 

11  Spencer,  Principles  of  Biology,  I.  pp.  340-34* ;  II,  PP-  614-616. 


VITAL  PROCESSES  ACCORDING  TO  RIGNANO.  577 

rather  between  individuals  who  belong  indeed  to  the  same 
species  but  are  somewhat  dissimilar. 

"According  to  the  same  hypothesis,  this  equilibrium 
could  also  be  deranged  by  the  extra-nuclear  discharge  of 
one  of  the  two  coupled  accumulators,  and  this  is  just  what 
is  demonstrated  by  the  universally  known  experiments 
upon  the  rejuvenescence  of  the  infusoria,  by  which  it  ap- 
pears that  this  rejuvenescence  can  be  reacquired  even  with- 
out any  need  of  the  ordinary  fecundating  conjugation, 
simply  by  causing  some  change  in  the  surrounding  con- 
ditions of  life,  and  thereby  provoking  a  strong  renewal  of 
the  functional  activity.12 

"Let  us  note  parenthetically  that  if  oscillating  dis- 
charges take  place  between  the  corresponding  separated 
specific  accumulators  or  half  mnemonic  elements  of  the 
egg  and  spermatozoon  respectively  even  when  the  egg  and 
spermatozoon  are  still  relatively  distant  from  each  other, 
i.  e.,  before  they  could  coalesce  .into  a  single  fecundated 
nucleus,  we  can  then  understand  how  the  space  between 
each  pair  of  these  elements  can  and  must  function  just  as 
the  deformed  dielectric  between  the  two  armatures  of  the 
condenser  of  the  electric  resonator,  and  thus  be  constrained 
to  produce  the  attraction  of  each  spermatic  half  element  to 
the  corresponding  half  element  of  the  ovum.  And  this 
would  have  as  a  final  result  an  energetic  reciprocal  attrac- 
tion between  the  ovum  and  the  spermatozoon. 

"The  real  cause  of  the  sexual  attraction  of  the  two 
germs,  male  and  female,  would  then  reside  in  their  capa- 
city of  vibrating  in  unison.  Conversely,  the  absence  of  all 
attraction  between  ovum  and  spermatozoon  belonging  to 
animal  or  vegetable  species  distantly  related  would  be  due 
to  the  fact  that  they  would  represent  potential  half  ele- 
ments, of  which  there  would  be  too  great  a  number,  for 

"Hartog,  "Problems  of  Reproduction,  etc."  Contemporary  Review,  July, 
1892,  esp.  pp.  94-95,  TOO- 102. 


THE  MONIST. 

example  in  the  spermatozoon,  completely  different  specifi- 
cally from  those  of  the  egg,  and  they  could  not  possibly, 
therefore,  have  the  same  rhythmicity. 

EXPLANATION   OF   KARYOKINETIC   CELL  DIVISION. 

"As  to  indirect  or  karyokinetic  cell  division,  let  us  note 
that,  when  each  of  the  two  coupled  accumulators,  in  con- 
sequence of  the  continual  increase  of  its  mass  attains  too 
high  a  potential,  the  two  halves  of  each  of  these  accumu- 
lators will  tend  to  repel  each  other,  just  as  would,  for  ex- 
ample, the  two  halves  of  a  conducting  sphere  or  disc, 
charged  with  too  great  a  quantity  of  static  electricity  of  the 
same  sign. 

"If  we  admit  at  the  same  time,  that  the  separation  of 
the  two  halves  of  each  accumulator  would  break  abruptly 
the  circuit  of  oscillation,  as  would  seem  indicated  by  the 
rupture,  retraction,  and  disappearance  of  the  meshes  of  the 
nuclear  reticulum  during  mitosis,  and  thus  suspend  tempo- 
rarily the  oscillating  discharge,  then  the  nervous  energy 
of  this  discharge  being  still  at  that  instant  in  a  dynamic 
state  along  the  same  circuit  of  oscillation  will  remain  no 
longer  actual  energy,  but  on  the  contrary  becomes  trans- 
formed into  potential,  and  discharge  itself  upon  the  first 
little  bit  of  substance  most  capable  of  receiving  it.  And 
this  substance,  likewise,  when  once  charged  with  static 
nervous  energy  of  the  same  sign  must  divide  also  into  two 
parts  and  thus  must  form  two  distinct  centers  of  attraction 
which  mutually  repel  each  other.  Consequently,  without 
pretending  thus  to  be  able  to  penetrate  into  the  smallest 
details  of  this  phenomenon,  we  understand  nevertheless 
how  vital  phenomena  of  dynamic  order,  which  are  due  to 
the  oscillating  nervous  discharge,  must  then  necessarily 
be  followed  by  phenomena  of  static  order,  quite  similar  to 
the  corresponding  phenomenon  which  the  oscillating  dis- 
charge of  an  electric  resonator  would  offer,  if  its  oscilla- 


VITAL  PROCESSES  ACCORDING  TO  RIGNANO.  579 

tion  being  suddenly  interrupted  it  discharged  itself  straight- 
way upon  any  heap  of  conductive  metallic  filings  which  it 
encountered,  transforming  itself  from  dynamic  to  static 
electricity. 

"This  view  would  find  support  especially: 

"i.  In  Delage's  observation  that  in  indirect  division  the 
longitudinal  splitting  of  the  chromosomes  or  of  the  nuclear 
filament  begins  before  achromatic  filaments  are  present 
which  are  capable  of  exerting  upon  them  any  pull  what- 
ever, from  which  it  may  be  inferred  that  it  is  repulsion 
which  operates  between  the  two  halves;13 

"2.  In  Hansemann's  observation,  that  during  karyo- 
kinesis  all  the  peculiarly  vital  functions  of  the  cell,  as 
assimilation,  secretion,  etc.,  are  completely  suspended;14 

"3.  In  Watase's  observation,  according  to  which  the 
centrosome  in  reality  is  only  a  simple  cytomicrosome  but 
of  greater  circumference  and  greater  force  of  attraction, 
and  that  the  cytomicrosomes  which  always  lie  at  the  meet- 
ing point  of  three  or  more  cytoplasmic  fibres,  likewise  are 
nothing  else  than  small  clumps  once  quite  aspecific  which 
form  anew  in  each  cell  division  and  from  which  arises  the 
contractile  substance  of  the  cytoplasmic  fibres  themselves  ;15 

"4.  In  Ziegler's  experiment,  in  which  the  poles  of  the 
horse-shoe  magnet  took  the  place  of  centrosomes  and  acted 
upon  iron  dust  strewn  upon  a  thin  horizontal  wax  plate 
upon  which  previously  pieces  of  iron  wire  of  forms  similar 
to  that  of  the  chromosomes  had  been  placed,  and  in  which 
figures  were  obtained  which  were  quite  similar  to  those 
presented  in  nuclear  division,  which  is  a  direct  proof  of 
the  conception  already  advanced  by  Roux,  that  in  the 
attraction  exerted  by  the  centrosomes  upon  the  chromo- 

18  Delage,  De  I'heredite  etc.,  pp.  149-150. 

"Hansemann,  Studien  iiber  die  Spezifisit'dt,  den  Altruismus  und  die  An- 
aplasie  der  Zellen,  p.  10. 

1BWatase,  On  the  Nature  of  Cell-organization,  Boston,  Ginn,  1894,  pp. 
92-93 ;  and  Origin  of  Centrosomes,  Ginn,  1896,  pp.  282,  285. 


580  THE  MONIST. 

somes  there  are  in  play  static  energies  of  nature  similar 
to  that  of  magnetic  force  or  of  static  electricity/'16 

The  hypothesis  which  Rignano  suggests  seems,  then, 
to  show  how  very  many  of  the  characteristic  phenomena 
of  living  beings  may  be  scientifically  explained.  It  is  a 
simple  hypothesis,  based  directly  upon  properties  of  phys- 
ical energy  which  are  well  understood.  The  additional 
specific  properties  which  it  attributes  to  vital  energy,  seem 
to  be  quite  in  accord  with  the  properties  of  physical  en- 
ergy so  far  as  they  are  known,  and  to  be  such  as  they 
might,  under  certain  conditions,  be  expected  to  present, 
seem  also  to  be  very  directly  indicated  by  certain  biological 
processes,  especially  by  memory  and  ontogeny. 

The  great  reason  why  it  must  be  very  seriously  con- 
sidered, lies  in  the  fact  that  it  explains  so  much  which 
heretofore  has  seemed  beyond  the  reach  of  explanation 
or  even  of  speculation.  Assimilation,  rhythmicity  and 
periodicity,  mitotic  division  of  cells,  fecundation,  memory, 
ontogeny  with  its  orderly  repetition  of  ancestral  forms, 
heredity — these  phenomena,  the  most  fundamental  and 
constant  of  all  those  manifested  by  living  things,  have  been 
just  those  most  difficult  to  explain.  Biological  details  have 
been  thoroughly  worked  over.  The  vast  store  of  obser- 
vations upon  them,  and  upon  the  modes  of  action  of  the 
fundamental  vital  processes,  constitute  the  science  of  biol- 
ogy to-day,  but  upon  the  essential  nature  of  the  productive 
cause  of  all  the  varied  phenomena  of  life,  biology  is  rela- 
tively silent.  The  problem  has  been  so  difficult  that  by 
many  it  has  been  hopelessly  abandoned,  though  surely  hints 
of  the  solution  must  come  up  before  us  constantly  in  our 
daily  work,  if  we  could  but  understand  them. 

18  Ziegler,  "Untersuchungen  iiber  die  Zellteilung,"  Verhandl.  der  deutschen 
soologischen  Gesellschaft,  Leipsic,  1895,  pp.  78-83.  Roux,  Ueber  die  Be- 
deutung  der  Kernteilungsfiguren,  Leipsic,  Engelmann,  1883,  p.  18. — Marcus 
Hartog,  "The  Dual  Force  of  the  Dividing  Cell,  Pt.  I :  The  Achromatic  Spindle 
Figure  Illustrated  by  Magnetic  Chains  of  Force/'  Proceedings  of  the  Royal 
Society,  B,  Vol.  76,  1905,  esp.  pp.  555-559- 


VITAL  PROCESSES  ACCORDING  TO  RIGNANO.  581 

Some  have  referred  the  vital  process  to  the  action  of 
spirit,  shelving  the  problem  in  so  far  as  science  is  con- 
cerned as  unreachable  and  unknowable.  But  its  study 
constitutes,  as  Rignano  truly  says,  the  real  end  and  aim 
of  all  biological  study,  none  of  which  is  without  direct  re- 
lation to  it.  The  conceptions  of  a  few  great  naturalists 
have  been  beacon  lights,  guiding  the  course  of  others,  but 
the  fundamental  causes  are  still  in  darkness.  These  causes 
must  be  sought  in  the  borderland  between  physical  science 
and  biology,  and  here  the  help  of  the  physicist  is  valuable 
and  indispensable,  especially  if  like  Rignano,  he  is  able  to 
see  clearly  in  what  the  fundamental  problems  of  biology 
consist,  and  is  able  also  to  think  synthetically. 

The  hypothesis  contributes  to  science  a  basis  and  guide 
for  further  constructive  thought  and  work,  and  as  such 
cannot  fail  to  fulfil  the  modest  hope  of  the  author  that  it 
might  be  a  travail  d'approche  toward  true  conceptions. 
And  as  such  it  is  being  gratefully  received  and  carefully 
considered  by  many  who  are  still  hopeful  that  these  things 
also  will  be  clearly  seen  and  understood. 

Rignano  concludes  his  book  by  saying  that  he  will  be 
especially  grateful  to  those  biologists  who  will  be  so  good 
as  to  send  him  criticisms  or  objections,  and  also  to  advise 
him  of  new  facts  which  can  be  adduced  either  for  or  against 
his  conception. 

BASIL  C.  H.  HARVEY. 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CHICAGO. 


MONTGOMERY'S  PHILOSOPHY  OF  VITAL  OR- 
GANIZATION. 

A  MONISTIC  philosophy  that  finds  idealism  and  mate- 
xV  rialism  alike  inadequate  as  interpretations  of  nature, 
and  which  essays  to  shift  the  entire  epistemological  struc- 
ture upon  a  new  and  naturalistic  foundation  is  offered  by 
Edmund  Montgomery  in  his  latest,  and  perhaps  final,  utter- 
ance, Philosophical  Problems  in  the  Light  of  Vital  Organi- 
sation. (G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons,  New  York  and  London.) 

An  ontography  is  here  formulated  which  will  go  far, 
its  venerable  author  hopes,  to  recover  philosophy  from  its 
forlorn  driftings  on  the  unpathed  and  harborless  seas  of 
metaphysics.  He  beckons  back  the  thought  from  its  wan- 
derings in  these  intellectual  infinitudes,  and  bids  it  find 
in  the  most  intimate  and  familiar  of  all  things,  the  human 
organism,  with  its  phylogenetically  developed  memory  and 
conscious  content,  the  veritable  harbor  of  ultimate  knowl- 
edge. Philosophy,  he  asserts,  must  reach  its  truths  through 
physiological  and  not  through  speculative  investigations. 

Such  an  hypothesis,  because  of  its  revolutionary  char- 
acter, can  scarcely  fail  of  securing  the  attention  of  those 
whose  thought  is  devoted  to  either  scientific  or  philosoph- 
ical interpretation. 

Montgomery  has  covered  wide  reaches  of  speculation. 
Gathering  data  from  the  four  corners  of  the  philosophic 
firmament,  he  has  focalized  his  findings  in  the  individual 


MONTGOMERY'S  PHILOSOPHY.  583 

microcosm,  declaring  that  in  the  human  organism  are  to 
be  found,  wrought  by  vital  interaction  with  its  surround- 
ing medium,  such  neural  refinements  of  the  ectodermic 
structures  as  to  harbor  all  the  initiating  marvels  of  man's 
mentality.  "Solely  through  close  attentive  investigation 
of  what  is  revealed  in  perceptual  awareness  regarding  the 
organism  and  its  functions,"  says  Montgomery,  "can  be 
gained  an  understanding  as  to  how  the  living  substance 
or  organism  comes  to  be  alive,  by  what  means  it  has  struc- 
turally and  functionally  developed  so  as  to  stand  in  defi- 
nite, manifold  interactive  relations  to  its  medium,  and 
which  of  its  structures  and  functions  are  concerned  in  the 
harboring  and  issuing  of  its  conscious  content,  in  the  ac- 
quisition of  its  accumulating  and  latently  preserved  expe- 
rience, and  its  conduct  of  life  through  guidance  of  such 
gathered  experience."  (Philosophical  Problems  etc.,  page 

3290 

With  rare  dialectic  skill,  and  with  an  array  of  all  known 
pertinent  facts  of  physiology,  to  which  he  has  superadded 
much  valuable  data  as  result  of  personal,  scientifically  con- 
ducted investigation  along  biological  lines,  he  essays  to 
demonstrate  that  there  is  a  veritable  physiological  seat 
or  source  of  those  potential  efficiencies  which,  stimulated 
into  activity,  resuscitate  our  evanished,  though  latently 
enduring  experiences  imprisoned  in  the  silence  and  the 
glooms  of  the  subconscious.  Are  we,  indeed,  to  hope  that 
science  will  yet  trace  the  processes  which  vitally  alchemize 
within  the  mysterious  plexus  of  the  living  structure  the 
fleeting  phantasmagoria  of  conscious  states,  and  organize 
them  into  the  synthetized  bodies  of  conceptual  knowledge 
which  we  denominate  reason  with  its  "universal  prin- 
ciples," its  "categories,"  its  "ethical  imperatives,"  its  "a 
priori  mathematics,"  its  "logical  norms"? 

Adopting  the  basic  postulate  of  idealism,  Montgomery 
recognizes  consciousness  as  our  only  direct  source  of  per- 


584  THE  MONIST. 

ceptual  and  conceptual  revelation:  sense-effected  on  its 
objective  sides,  there  is  revealed,  albeit  only  symbolically, 
a  universe  of  abiding,  though  everchanging,  sense-stimu- 
lating, substantial  efficiencies.  Upon  its  subjective  facets 
arise  memories,  concepts,  volitions,  emotions  and  all  the 
deliverances  of  our  apperceptive  faculties. 

The  forcelessness  and  purely  subservient  character  of 
consciousness  is  strenuously  insisted  upon,  it  having,  he 
maintains,  "no  other  significance  than  to  render  the  living 
being  aware  of  his  organically  ingrained  modes  of  inter- 
relation with  that  which  constitutes  its  real  extraconscious 
environment." 

But  here,  let  it  be  said,  the  reader  loses  the  very  essence 
of  Montgomery's  thought  if  he  permits  himself  for  a  mo- 
ment to  forget  that,  to  our  author,  the  great  extracon- 
scious, perception-compelling  entity  which  we  call  the  ex- 
ternal world,  including  our  own  being,  is  only  vicariously 
known  to  us.  What  consciousness  presents  as  perceptual 
realities  are  fashioned  from  the  radiated  influences  of 
force-endowed  existents  subsisting  outside  mind,  and 
translated  into  mental  simulacra  by  means  of  the  func- 
tional activities  of  brain  and  specialized  nerve-structures, 
themselves  the  developed  creatures  of  this  interplay. 

But  Montgomery's  world  is  not  the  world  of  the  ideal- 
ist, for  to  him  a  not-I  assuredly  exists,  though  only  em- 
blematically revealed.  To  this  contention  many  a  para- 
graph of  his  writings  is  devoted.  "Perceptual  mind,"  he 
says,  "is  altogether  moulded  on  the  foreign  powers  which 
appear  to  us  as  the  outside  world,  and  has  therefore  no 
meaning  save  in  relation  to  those  outside  powers.  Con- 
ceptual mind,  in  its  turn,  is  significative  of  those  perceptual 
realizations,  and  has  no  value  but  in  reference  to  them, 
and  the  natural  and  genuine  field  of  exertion  for  our  will, 
its  objects  of  desire  and  aversion,  lie  likewise  in  the  world 
of  foreign  existents  outside  our  individual  mind.  Thus  not 


MONTGOMERY'S  PHILOSOPHY.  585 

only  our  bodily  organization  but  our  entire  mental  consti- 
tution is  fashioned  in  correspondence  to  a  complex  world 
external  to  our  own  being."  (The  Index,  Oct.  9,  1884.) 

Thus  unequivocally  does  Montgomery  exclude  from  his 
neo-vitalistic  credendum  all  implications  of  transcendental 
endowments  miraculously  infused  into  the  organism.  With 
kaleidoscopic  shiftings  of  the  tenets  of  idealism,  he  attacks 
them  from  every  conceivable  viewpoint,  while  materialism 
suffers  no  less  vigorous  assaults  from  his  dialectic  "big 
stick/' 

It  has  been  one  of  Montgomery's  chief  endeavors  to 
demonstrate  the  unity  of  the  organic  individual,  and  thus 
to  controvert  the  dominant  theory  of  biologists,  which 
maintains  that  all  organisms,  vegetal  and  animal,  are  ani- 
mated not  by  the  vitality  of  a  unitary  protoplasmic  sub- 
stance, but  by  a  plexure  or  aggregation  of  more  or  less 
autonomous  elementary  cells,  plastidules,  micellae,  gem- 
mules,  pangenes,  biaphores,  physiological  units,  or  what- 
nots,— not  by  an  indiscerptible  plasmogenic  being,  but  by 
morphological  units,  almost  undifferentiated,  working  with 
hyperintellectual  endowments  to  execute  the  interdepen- 
dent functions  of  a  complicated  living  structure. 

In  short,  Montgomery  contends  for  a  panzoism  that 
regards  the  organic  being  as  bioplasmically  unitary — a 
synplasm,  and  a  quasi  "entellechy,"  possessing  "the  in- 
herent activities  of  agencies  specifically  operative  in  the 
production  of  all  vital  phenomena."  He  undertakes  to 
demonstrate  scientifically  and  epistemologically  that  con- 
sciousness and  all  psychic  exhibits  whatever  are  dependent 
upon  specific  conditions  of  the  vital  organism  as  wrought 
by  interaction  with  its  environment  through  ages  upon 
ages  of  vital  toil  and  adjustment. 

These  specific,  synthetized  neural  congeries  possess,  he 
asserts,  the  intrinsic,  though  phylogenetically  acquired, 
properties  which  actuate  the  faculty  of  developed  aware- 


586  THE  MONIST. 

ness,  and  condition  its  deliverances  by  referring  them  to 
the  mnemonic  thesaurus  of  the  subconscious.  He  finds 
also  in  this  "intraconscious,  microcosmic  world/'  with  its 
marvelous  self-reintegrative  efficiencies,  an  answer  to  the 
ancient  enigma  of  identity  amid  change,  and  a  solution  of 
the  perennial  problem  of  substantiality.  In  this  same  proto- 
plasmic substance,  structured  functionally  into  persistent 
organization,  he  detects  "the  abiding  matrix  that  harbors 
within  its  trans-phenomenal,  extra-conscious  recesses  ac- 
cruing experiences,  as  memorized  and  systematized  knowl- 
edge/' 

Thus,  in  the  specialized  sentiencies  of  the  vital  organ- 
ism, and  as  a  result  of  its  physiophyly,  appears  that  psychic 
radium  whose  mutating  identity,  ever  renewing,  ever  dis- 
integrating, radiates  all  mental  activities,  re-absorbing 
each  fleeting  mode  of  consciousness,  and,  touching  it  with 
the  immortalizing  alchemy  of  memory,  relegates  it  to  the 
under-world  where  abides  the  "ingathered  Past" — the 
great  Subconscious,  to  whose  marvelous  functions  Mont- 
gomery, more  than  any  other  philosopher,  assigns  the  vast 
importance  attaching  to  them  as  data  of  a  correct  epis- 
temology. 

Reason,  he  says,  is  inseparable  from  socially  acquired 
language,  so  that,  with  all  its  manifold  deliverances,  in- 
stead of  being  a  world-creating  entity  or  demiurge,  as 
proclaimed  by  idealists,  it  is  assumed  to  be  a  forceless  by- 
product of  perceptual  activity  and  sensorial  elaboration, 
wrought  through  age-long  social  and  linguistic  associa- 
tion, and  not  an  ab  extra  creative  importation  from  tran- 
scendental realms,  projected  through  an  undiscoverable 
mystical  medium. 

This,  in  its  boldest  and  most  sensational  features,  pre- 
sents the  work  to  which  Montgomery  has  devoted  a  long 
life  of  patient  toil.  As  this  article,  by  editorial  request, 
is  to  incorporate  somewhat  more  of  the  personal  element 


MONTGOMERY'S  PHILOSOPHY.  587 

than  is  usual  in  The  Monist's  reviews  of  philosophic 
works,  something  should  be  said  of  Montgomery's  unique 
literary  style,  a  feature  which  elicits  either  the  ban  or  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  reader,  according  to  his  temperament. 

In  Montgomery's  mental  processes  there  is  neither  hi- 
atus nor  elision.  His  very  coherency  subjects  him  to  the 
charge  of  over-elaboration.  His  intellect  possesses  a  sort 
of  alkahestic  quality.  No  composite  entity  but  breaks  under 
his  mental  catalysis,  and  his  sense  of  continuity  seems  to 
dissuade  him  from  dissipating  his  thought  into  such  gram- 
matical individualities  as  sentences,  for  he  ramifies  his 
theme  with  clause  after  clause,  in  bewildering  profusion, 
till  a  sentence  extends  sometimes  through  a  score  or  more 
lines  of  his  book,  and  mental  continuity  well-nigh  exhausts 
itself  in  wending  the  verbal  causeway  he  throws  across 
his  thought. 

His  diction  is  essentially  poetic,  because,  with  trenchant 
insight,  he  explores  the  very  soul  of  his  thought,  and  be- 
cause he  adopts  purely  literary  forms  of  expression,  even 
paraphrasing  technical  terms  wherever  possible,  thus  in- 
cidentally rendering  philosophy  a  unique  service.  In  the 
elucidation  of  his  own  theories  he  has  practically  devel- 
oped a  special  Onomatology. 

There  is  thrilling  suggestiveness  in  some  passages  of 
Montgomery's  writings  as  they  dart  their  illumination  over 
uncharted  reaches  of  nescience  or  into  murky  nooks  of  na- 
ture's arcana.  This  is  because  to  Montgomery  nothing 
seems  conventional  or  familiar.  He  stands  before  his 
thought  with  an  awe  and  intellectual  alertness  such  as 
Plato  ascribes  to  his  imagined  cave-creature,  who,  reared 
in  subterranean  glooms,  was  nurtured  to  intellectual  ma- 
turity, emotional  normality  and  sensorial  completeness, 
then  led  forth  to  behold  for  the  first  time  the  splendors 
of  a  sunrise.  There  are  instances,  it  is  true,  in  which 
Montgomery  seems  to  literally  revel  in  linguistic  intoxi- 


588  THE  MONIST. 

cation;  but  an  attempt  to  reduce  the  thought  to  greater 
verbal  sobriety  would  result  in  disappointment.  Professor 
James  in  a  late  Hibbert  Journal  has  said  of  Hegel :  "His 
passion  for  the  slip-shod  in  the  way  of  sentence;  his  un- 
principled playing  fast  and  loose  with  terms;  his  abom- 
inable vocabulary,  calling  what  completes  a  thing  its  nega- 
tive, for  example;  his  systematic  refusal  to  let  you  know 
whether  he  is  talking  logic  or  physics  or  psychology;  his 
deliberately  adopted  ambiguity  and  vagueness,  in  short, 
make  his  present-day  readers  tear  their  hair  out  in  des- 
peration/' Contrast  this  intellectual  insincerity  of  Hegel 
with  the  intensity  and  propagandic  vehemence  of  Mont- 
gomery, and  we  find  at  once  the  cause  and  justification  of 
his  affluent  utterance.  Idiosyncrasies  and  mannerisms  of 
expression  are  not  lacking,  but  these  are  easily  mastered. 

His  subtle  and  intuitive  grasp  upon  the  salient  features 
of  a  philosophy  or  school  of  thought  is  notable.  In  the 
alembic  of  his  mind  the  essential  components  of  a  theory 
loosen  from  their  superadded  composition  and  move,  al- 
most with  the  accuracy  of  chemical  affinity,  into  their 
proper  places  in  his  conception.  An  illustration  of  this 
faculty  will  be  found  on  page  101  of  his  Philosophical 
Problems,  where  he  specifies  the  dialectic  subterfuges  and 
fantastic  subtleties  to  which  philosophers  have  been  driven 
in  efforts  to  square  their  postulates  with  the  psycho-phys- 
ical entanglements  presented  by  the  interaction  of  body  and 
mind. 

In  the  year  1852  Montgomery  matriculated  at  Heidel- 
berg as  a  medical  student.  His  range  of  acquaintance  even 
then  included  many  of  the  representative  thinkers  of  Ger- 
many, association  with  whom,  owing  to  their  conflicting 
views,  served  to  thrust  our  young  student  into  a  bewilder- 
ing vortex  of  world-interpretations.  Under  the  sway  of 
Moleschott  and  Vogt,  medical  science  was  being  delivered 
mainly  in  terms  of  materialism,  these  eminent  teachers 


MONTGOMERY'S  PHILOSOPHY.  589 

having  recently  disavowed  the  conceptual  vagaries  of  Oken 
and  Schelling.  But  the  enthusiastic  exposition  of  Fichtean 
phenomenalism  and  of  Hegelian  ontology  as  proclaimed 
by  his  friends  Christian  Kapp  and  Kuno  Fischer  almost 
diverted  our  student  from  the  philosophical  faith  dominant 
amongst  the  expounders  of  his  chosen  science.  As  a 
counter-check  to  his  idealism,  extended  conferences  were 
held  with  the  celebrated  Ludwig  Feuerbach,  who,  after 
renouncing  Hegel's  solipsism,  had  become  an  ardent  be- 
liever in  the  real  existence  of  sense-revealed  perceptible 
nature.  Already  Montgomery  had  read  Schopenhauer, 
and  remembered  his  remark  that  materialism  was  fit  only 
for  barber  apprentices  and  apothecary  assistants,  a  view 
gleefully  endorsed  by  most  of  Montgomery's  philosophical 
friends.  But  ever  the  old  psychophysical  riddle  haunted 
his  thought.  If  no  kind  of  matter  can  produce  or  secrete 
thought,  how  is  it,  conversely,  possible  for  any  kind  of 
thought  to  produce  matter?  The  existence  of  the  body  is 
quite  as  certain  as  is  that  of  mind.  Can  they  be  one  and 
the  same  entity?  Is  this  tangible  and  visible  body  the  ex- 
ternal aspect  of  the  same  existent  that  reveals  itself  in  in- 
tangible and  invisible  modes  of  mental  awareness? 

Experience  in  the  dissecting-room  at  Heidelberg  for- 
bade assent  to  this  theory.  The  bodily  structure  remained 
before  him  concrete  and  visible  in  all  its  features.  The 
mind,  however,  had  departed,  or  rather  had  become  wholly 
extinguished.  Mind,  therefore,  must  be  something  rad- 
ically different  from  body.  His  medical  tutors  assured  him 
that  the  body  consists  wholly  of  inert  material  particles 
mechanically  moved.  This  being  true,  is  there  not  a  wide 
and  essential  disparity  between  it  and  mind?  Neverthe- 
less their  interaction  was  undeniable,  though  a  feeling, 
thinking  mind  could  not  be  conceived  of  detachable  from 
a  body  in  which  it  had  come  into  the  world,  and  with 
which  it  had  correspondingly  developed  from  infancy  to 


590  THE  MONIST. 

maturity.  Are  then  the  manifestations  of  mind  and  the 
activities  of  the  body,  being  experienced  as  inseparable, 
concomitant  and  complemental,  to  be  regarded  as  only  dif- 
ferent modes  of  one  and  the  same  entity  or  individuated 
being  ? 

Descartes  had  introduced  into  biology  the  prevailing 
mechanistic  and  materialistic  views  of  vital  processes,  and 
shortly  after  Montgomery's  school  days  Dubois  Reymond 
and  Huxley  demonstrated  conclusively  that  mind  and  men- 
tal phenomena  only  ineffectively  accompany  the  body's 
mechanically-moved  activities  without  having  the  least  in- 
fluence upon  them.  About  that  time  the  famous  dictum 
was  formulated  declaring  that  brain  secretes  thought  as 
the  liver  secretes  bile.  Physiologists  were  also  proclaim- 
ing that  thought  is  accompanied  with  cerebro-molecular 
agitation,  and  the  world's  best  intellects  were  engaged 
upon  the  problem  of  how  the  constant  and  manifold  inter- 
communication of  two  such  incommensurable  entities  as 
mind  and  matter  is  effected. 

The  occasionalism  of  the  Cartesians ;  the  absolute,  all- 
involving  Substance  of  Spinoza;  the  Preestablished  Har- 
mony of  Leibnitz,  and  other  equally  fanciful  hypotheses 
were  then  engaging  the  serious  thought  of  philosophers. 
Descartes  had  bisected  nature  into  two  substances,  an  un- 
extended  thinking  substance,  and  an  extended  material 
substance.  Intercommunication  between  two  such  dispar- 
ate entities  was,  however,  utterly  unthinkable,  for  how 
can  an  unextended  substance  enter  into  intercommunica- 
tion with  a  spatially-divided  or  extended  entity?  Besides 
there  is  nothing  more  surely  extended  in  the  world  than 
perceptual  vision;  yet  this  is  a  manifestation  of  the  very 
entity  which  is  declared  to  be  unextended. 

In  positing  his  Absolute  Substance,  Spinoza  failed  to 
disclose  any  reason  why  the  order  of  thought  should  cor- 
respond or  be  identical  with  the  order  of  things.  The 


MONTGOMERY'S  PHILOSOPHY.  591 

Preestablished  Harmony  of  Leibnitz  seems  too  fantastic 
to  justify  even  an  analysis  in  this  day  of  severe  thought. 
His  "two-clock"  conceit  serves  only  to  loosen  the  brow  into 
smiles.  Body  and  mind  actually  do  work  in  harmony,  and 
the  harmony  is  preestablished,  following  from  the  first 
prenatal  movement  till  death  brings  a  period  to  vital  mani- 
festations. But  in  all  these  philosophic  postulates  there  is 
not  a  scintilla  of  explanation  given  as  to  how  the  harmony 
was  established  and  how  it  accomplished  its  results.  Pri- 
mordial fatality  or  divine  fiat  were  the  alternative  answers 
open  to  the  interpreters  of  these  irrational  speculations. 

The  world-creating  power  of  mind,  exerted  as  will  or 
thought,  was,  in  these  early  days  of  Montgomery's  scien- 
tific studies,  receiving  more  serious  consideration  than  was 
any  materialistic  view.  Kantian  transcendental  concep- 
tualism,  Hegelian  ontology,  Fichtean  solipsistic  idealism, 
Berkeleyan  non-substantialism,  with  their  scores  of  deriv- 
atives and  interpretations,  were  rife  in  the  philosophic 
realm.  " Concepts  were  declared  to  be  the  real  enduring 
entities  in  the  world,  the  abiding  archetypes,  or  compre- 
hensive universals,  of  which  all  other  modes  of  existence 
are  mere  perishing  copies  or  particulars."  (Philosophical 
Problems,  etc.,  page  20.)  But  Montgomery  detected  no 
creative  power  in  his  own  will  or  thought,  nor  in  that  of 
any  of  the  idealistic  expounders  of  conceptual  potentiality. 
The  radical  difference  of  nature  obtaining  between  the 
generally  perceptible  universe  and  the  world  of  exclusive 
subjective  awareness  constantly  thrust  itself  upon  his 
thought. 

At  Bonn  Montgomery  attended  the  lectures  of  Helm- 
holtz  on  the  physiology  of  the  senses,  at  which  time  Ber- 
keley's theory  of  vision  was  discussed,  and  Montgomery 
was  led  to  read  other  works  of  the  great  idealist  who,  as 
he  wrote  later,  "extended  the  domain  of  consciousness  by 
despoiling  physical  nature  of  all  perceived  qualities  what- 


592  THE  MONIST. 

ever,  proving  that  every  thing  which  is  realized  as  percep- 
tion is  of  necessity  a  mental  phenomenon."  Previously 
Locke  had  demonstrated  that  colors,  sounds,  odors  and 
tastes  were  subjective  or  conscious  phenomena  and  not 
properties  of  external  existence.  Kant  had  reasoned  time 
and  space  into  mere  modes  of  thought.  "After  such  com- 
plete draining  into  the  sphere  of  consciousness  of  every- 
thing which  seemed  to  make  up  physical  nature,  it  became 
doubtful  to  philosophically  trained  minds,"  says  Mont- 
gomery, "whether  there  exists,  in  truth,  anything  in  the 
world  save  consciousness  itself."  But  unlike  our  Huxleys 
and  our  Tyndalls  who  eventually  took  refuge  in  idealism, 
being  unable  to  solve  the  psychophysical  riddles  of  being, 
Montgomery  made  his  escape,  figuratively  speaking, 
through  the  back  door;  for,  pondering  on  the  respective 
parts  body  and  mind  are  playing  in  seeing  and  hearing 
and  in  sense-perception  in  general,  he  realized  that  if 
everything  which  appears  perceptually  is  of  ideal  and  not 
of  material  consistency,  then,  conversely,  it  must  also  be 
true  that  nothing  mental  can  be  itself  perceptible. 

And  here,  indeed,  is  the  very  pith  of  Montgomery's 
world-conception  and  interpretation.  With  almost  tire- 
some iteration,  the  classification  of  the  perceptual  and  the 
conceptual  is  presented  to  the  reader's  attention.  If  we 
really  consist  of  mind-stuff,  is  his  contention,  we  should 
be  wholly  imperceptible  to  others,  indeed  wholly  non-exis- 
tent. We  cannot  perceive,  touch  or  see  another  person's 
feelings,  thoughts  or  emotions ;  but  we  can  see  and  touch 
another's  body.  What  we  actually  perceive  as  another 
body,  though  itself  a  mere  mental  percept,  must  evidently 
represent  something  of  a  nature  entirely  different  from 
that  of  its  perceptual  image  within  the  percipient's  con- 
scious content. 

This  sense-hidden  mental  awareness  has  to  be  com- 
municated to  outsiders  by  means  of  bodily  or  tangible 


MONTGOMERY  S  PHILOSOPHY.  593 

signs  through  sounds,  sights  or  gestures.  And  the  mean- 
ing of  these  signs  must  be  interpreted  by  the  observer's 
own  connatural  experience.  That  which,  through  sense- 
stimulation,  arouses  in  beholders  a  definite  percept  is  char- 
acterized by  Montgomery  as  a  "power-endowed,  relatively 
permanent  entity,"  while  the  aroused  percept  within  the 
conscious  content  is  itself  only  a  feature  of  "the  panoramic 
play  of  our  fleeting  modes  of  awareness" — a  forceless, 
evanescent  ideal  phenomenon.  The  former  has  power  to 
affect  the  senses  in  definite  ways,  and  is  hence  called  "phys- 
ical" in  radical  contradistinction  to  the  forceless  mental 
state  called  "psychical."  In  this  light,  Montgomery  thinks 
the  problem  of  psychophysical  parallelism  becomes  intel- 
ligible: the  mental  awareness  forms  the  psychical  half, 
while  the  observer's  sense-imparted  perception  can  be  re- 
garded as  the  physical  half  of  the  parallelism.  But  it  must 
be  observed  that  the  same  vital  process  which  awakens  in 
the  subject  a  definite  mental  phenomenon,  and  elicits  cor- 
responding physical  expression,  evokes  through  sense-stim- 
ulation, in  the  beholder,  accordant  motor  signs.  The  per- 
ceptual awareness  of  these  physical  tokens  is  just  as  much 
a  mental  state  as  is  the  subject's  imperceptible  ideal  phe- 
nomenon. The  term  "physical,"  then,  in  this  connection, 
means  the  external,  sense-compelling  influence  which  af- 
fects in  definite,  preestablished  ways  the  beholder's  recep- 
tive sensibilities,  and  forces  the  presence,  characteristics 
and  activities  of  its  source  of  emanation  to  reveal  them- 
selves in  mental  representation. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  in  Montgomery's  episte- 
mological  system,  everything  is  trans-phenomenal  except 
awareness  and  the  actual  content  of  consciousness,  present 
or  memorized.  Hence  all  activities  that  can  cause  con- 
scious states  to  arise,  whether  of  the  perceptual  or  concep- 
tual order  must  be  regarded  as  extra-mental,  that  is,  exter- 
nal and  physical.  He  says  (Philosophical  Problems,  etc., 


594  THE  MONIST. 

page  145)  :  "These  extra-conscious  activities,  resulting  in 
mental  occurrences,  are  set  going  in  the  same  power-en- 
dowed sphere  wherein  our  enduring  self  and  its  matrix 
of  consciousness  have  their  real  being.  These  specific  ac- 
tivities of  the  organic  being  are,  consequently,  as  such, 
unknown  processes,  processes  taking  place  outside  con- 
scious awareness.  They  are,  however,  definitely  signalized 
by  the  specific  conscious  state  to  which  they  respectively 
give  rise."  And  that  which  evoked  the  conscious  state  is 
henceforth  preserved  to  reissue  its  efficiency  as  a  memory 
upon  appropriate  stimulation,  all  this  occurring  in  the  or- 
ganic realm  beyond  any  possible  control  of  consciousness, 
which  indeed  is  only  the  interpretative  outcome  of  these 
processes.  And  this  is  also  the  explanation  of  the  phe- 
nomenon of  volition  or  self-determination,  a  subject  to 
which  Montgomery  devotes  much  attention. 

Sense-stimulated  awareness  is  strictly  compulsory.  Its 
content  cannot  in  substance  be  volitionally  changed.  But 
there  is  another  set  of  mental  phenomena  more  intimate 
than  that  revealed  by  physical  stimuli:  it  is  the  realm  of 
past  experience  systematized  and  memorized.  This  sub- 
merged world  can  reappear  in  consciousness  independent 
of  sense-incitement.  Sense-awakened  mental  states,  how- 
ever, cannot  appear  without  carrying  with  them,  or,  per- 
haps, more  correctly,  concomitantly  eliciting,  as  interpret- 
ers, a  wealth  of  complemental  data  from  memorized  past 
experience.  And  this  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  facts 
of  psychic  life.  Some  synthetizing  property,  doubtless 
having  its  basis  in  neural  or  cephalic  structure,  appears 
to  be  a  function  of  the  organism,  as  is  regeneration.  Some- 
where and  somehow  within  the  recesses  of  the  encephalon 
this  synthetizing  function  is  ever  carrying  on  its  wonderful 
processes,  and  returning  its  product  in  systematized  and 
therefore  available  memory  of  affiliated  past  experiences. 

The  transference  of  epistemological  problems  from  the 


MONTGOMERY'S  PHILOSOPHY.  595 

realm  of  metaphysics  to  the  domain  of  biology  was  first 
essayed  by  Montgomery  in  discussions  with  Helmholtz, 
and  somewhat  later  advanced  in  a  German  work  entitled 
Die  Kant'sche  Erkenntnisslehre  widerlegt  vom  Standpunkt 
der  Empiric.  This  rather  elaborate  attack  on  Kant's  doc- 
trine of  the  a  priori  bore  the  subtitle,  Ein  vorbereitender 
Beitrag  zur  Begriindung  einer  physiologischen  Naturauf- 
fassung,  and  one  of  the  chapters  carried  the  rather  start- 
ling title :  "The  Necessary  Synthesis  of  the  Sensible  Mani- 
fold is  a  Physiological  and  not  a  Logical  Action."  The 
following  passage  from  that  work  gives,  perhaps,  the  ear- 
liest enunciation  of  a  philosophy  based  upon  vital  organi- 
zation: "The  solution  of  philosophical  problems  is  to  be 
found  only  by  way  of  physiological  investigation.  Every 
philosophical  question,  rightly  put,  is  a  physiological  ques- 
tion. We  know  that  an  organ  repairs  the  waste  it  suffers 
in  functioning;  that  it  restores  itself  to  a  state  identical 
with  its  former  self  without  being  assisted  thereat  by  any- 
thing mental.  Thus  it  becomes  unconsciously  capacitated 
to  perform  anew  identical  functions.  It  is  this  entirely 
organic  process  which  underlies  all  consciousness  of  iden- 
tity, and  certainly  no  spontaneous  power  of  the  transcen- 
dental Ego,  as  assumed  by  Kant."  (Pages  125-6.) 

Another  fact  of  nature  which  in  Montgomery's  philos- 
ophy is  deemed  of  paramount  importance,  is  that  actual 
awareness  takes  place  only  in  the  real  present,  a  mode  of 
time  radically  contradistinguished  from  the  future  and  the 
past.  These  present  moments  of  awareness  follow  each 
other  uninterruptedly,  passing  away  in  "dissolving  waves 
of  ever-lapsing  Time,"  as  Montgomery  poetically  says.  If 
the  evanescent  content  of  past  moments  of  awareness  were 
not  available  to  present  consciousness,  complete  oblivion 
of  everything  previously  experienced  would  prevail.  As 
the  content  of  these  past  moments  of  awareness  cannot 
possibly  dwell  in  the  transitory  panorama  of  the  conscious 


THE  MONIST. 

phenomena  themselves,  there  must,  perforce,  be  some  ma- 
trix wherein  their  memory  is  enduringly  preserved.  "Time 
itself  cannot  be  apprehended,  only  its  freight  of  succeeding 
appearances  is  the  object  of  apprehension.  These  appear- 
ances supplant  each  other  successively.  And  their  definite 
sequence  in  time  must,  then,  evidently  be  necessitated  by 
the  definite  activity  of  the  underlying  substance  which  is- 
sues them  into  actual  awareness.  They,  therefore,  neces- 
sarily appear  in  definite  order  in  subjective  or  empirical 
apprehension,  because  they  are  thus  definitely  determined 
in  the  realm  of  substantial  existence."  And  this  inter- 
related, persistent,  substantial  entity,  this  extra-mental, 
power-endowed  sphere  of  real  existence  is  of  course  the 
perceptible  body.  For  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  to 
Montgomery  the  living  human  organism,  with  its  wonder- 
ful endowments,  is  the  veritable  ens  entium.  It  is  the 
basis  of  his  epistemological  structure.  No  notion  of  "gross 
matter"  inheres  in  his  concept  of  the  visible  man.  "We 
touch  heaven,"  said  the  devout  Novalis,  "when  we  lay 
our  hands  upon  the  human  body."  Montgomery  has  reared 
it  scientifically  to  this  pinnacle  of  piety.  It  is  to  him  "the 
matrix  whence  issues  into  actual  awareness  in  unbroken 
sequence  the  panoramic  revelation  of  nature,  conveyed  in 
ever-changing  kaleidoscopic  combinations  of  sensations, 
perceptions,  thoughts,  feelings,  cravings  and  emotions. 
Such  a  matrix,"  he  says,  "must  be  in  all  verity  a  genuine 
substance  possessing  the  essential  properties  with  which 
advanced  philosophical  thinking  has  been  led  to  endow  the 
inevitable  notion  of  substantiality :  a  notion  that  alone  res- 
cues our  world-interpretation  from  complete  collapse  into 
the  abyss  of  idealistic  nihilism."  (Philosophical  Problems, 
etc.,  page  109.)  In  further  defense  of  the  dignity  of  his 
conception  of  organization,  he  says  (pages  197-8) :  "the 
visible  organic  commotion  we  call  life,  which  is  sustaining 
with  its  ceaseless  activity  all  structures  and  all  functions 


MONTGOMERY'S  PHILOSOPHY.  597 

of  the  living  individual,  reveals  in  its  incomprehensible 
potency  the  profoundly  mysterious  nature  of  our  real  extra- 
conscious  being,  fully  justifying  us  in  regarding  it  as  the 
veritable  source  of  the  flowing  phenomena  of  our  conscious 
content." 

To  establish  his  postulate  as  to  the  relation  obtaining 
between  morphological  structure,  its  physiophyly  and  con- 
comitant psychic  manifestations,  Montgomery  spent  years 
of  patient  toil  as  a  microscopist  in  the  study  of  proto-organ- 
isms.  Here  he  found  further  reason  for  opposing  the  mech- 
anistic doctrines  of  the  physicists,  particularly  as  they  ap- 
plied to  vital  phenomena  and  organic  deportment.  No 
physico-chemical  hypothesis  would  cover  the  field,  though 
many  of  the  vital  processes  formerly  classed  as  purely 
physiological  he  relegated  to  the  realm  of  the  chemical  and 
physical.  Nor  have  developments  in  the  meanwhile  served 
to  eliminate  the  necessity  of  reckoning  with  an  element 
"not  amenable  to  the  ordinary  yoke  of  physical  laws."  The 
vaunted  doctrine  of  endosmosis  was  heralded  by  Dutrochet 
as  a  veritable  explanation  of  life  itself.  Later  investiga- 
tions, however,  demonstrate  that  the  intestines  are  lined 
with  epithelial  cells,  themselves  independent  organisms  con- 
siderably specialized,  and  that  the  protoplasm  of  these  cells 
selects  and  appropriates  proper  nutriment  in  the  same  man- 
ner as  do  the  ciliate  infusoria.  And  this  selective  process 
unmistakably  implies  a  nervous  system.  The  psychical 
element,  therefore,  enters  at  an  early  stage  as  a  factor  in 
unicellular  life;  and  as  a  functioning  element  plays  a  part 
in  morphophyly  not  at  all  inferior  to  the  physico-chemical 
forces. 

What  then  is  this  most  common  and  intimate  thing 
called  vitality? — "this  intangible  something  whose  forma- 
tive potency  draws  to  itself  stray  stuff  from  the  visible 
world,  coercing  it  into  significant  organic  arrangement 
and  prescient  aimful  activity?"  Vitality,  Montgomery 


59^  THE  MONIST. 

avers,  is  not  a  static  property  but  the  result  of  a  dynamical 
process.  "It  is  not  the  property  of  any  kind  of  mere  chem- 
ical compound.  It  is  altogether  a  phyletically  elaborated 
chemical  process  taking  place  in  strict  dependence  upon, 
and  interaction  with,  the  stimulating  influences  of  the  me- 
dium." 

As  to  the  origin  of  life  itself,  Montgomery,  of  course, 
refers  it  also  to  molecular  processes.  He  says  (Monist, 
Vol.  5,  No.  2)  :  "Whenever  a  complex  molecule,  formed 
during  the  chemical  elaboration  of  our  planetary  material, 
suffered  slightest  disintegration,  that  is,  loss  of  any  of  its 
constituent  elements,  and  was  thereupon  able  to  re-inte- 
grate itself  by  means  of  combination  with  complemental 
elements  offered  by  the  medium,  there  life  had  its  beginning, 
...  for  its  alternate  disintegration  and  reintegration  raised 
it  from  the  sphere  of  lifeless  existence  into  that  of  living 
activity." 

That  the  protoplasmic  individual  is  a  chemical  unit, 
Montgomery  has  discussed  in  an  article  entitled  "The  De- 
pendence of  Quality  on  Specific  Energies,"  published  in 
Mind,  1 88 1,  wherein  he  essayed  to  demonstrate  that  no 
number  of  qualitatively  equal  units  can  possibly,  through 
any  kind  of  aggregation  or  juxtaposition,  produce  by  such 
summation  anything  qualitatively  higher  than  themselves ; 
no  number  of  mere  aggregations  in  whatever  special  posi- 
tion a  higher  chemical  compound;  no  number  of  mere 
aggregated  organic  molecules  a  living  organism ;  no  num- 
ber of  merely  aggregated  elementary  organisms  a  higher 
organism,  and  no  number  of  merely  associated  psychical 
elements  a  higher  mental  phenomenon. 

Mayer,  as  a  corollary  to  his  doctrine  of  the  correlation 
and  transmutation  of  forces,  had  proclaimed  that  vital  ac- 
tivity was  solely  a  display  of  transmuted  physical  forces, 
sustained  and  perpetuated  as  such  by  mere  combustion  of 
the  appropriated  nutriment.  Muscle  was  only  "a  machine 


MONTGOMERY  S  PHILOSOPHY.  599 

through  whose  instrumentality  is  brought  about  the  trans- 
formation of  force. ...  It  is  not  itself  the  material  by  means 
of  whose  chemical  metamorphosis  the  mechanical  effect  is 
produced."  Montgomery  was  amongst  the  first  to  attack 
this  unphysiological  view  of  vital  organization,  and  in  ar- 
ticles published  in  Pfluger's  Archiv  (1881)  he  announced 
his  position  after  exhaustive  studies  of  motility  in  micro- 
organisms and  in  muscular  fibre.  His  claim  was  to  have 
demonstrated  that  the  force  effecting  vital  movements  is 
in  reality  "mass-manifestation  of  a  definite  cycle  of  chem- 
ical activity,  occurring  in  the  very  substance  which  exhibits 
the  motion." 

Minimizing  the  importance  generally  attached  to  mor- 
phological appearances  in  biological  study,  Montgomery 
discarded  the  use  of  powerful  re-agents  in  the  examination 
of  the  visible  details  of  organic  structure  as  employed  by 
Virchow  and  his  school.  He  examined  tissues  in  serum 
and,  where  possible,  in  their  natural  living  state.  Investi- 
gating microscopically  in  living  muscles  their  structural 
movements,  he  found  the  striped  protoplasm  of  such  as 
had  been  detached  from  the  body  of  insects,  when  immersed 
in  distilled  water  instead  of  serum,  to  be  suddenly  con- 
verted throughout  into  fine,  wavy,  fibrous  tissue  similar 
to  that  of  tendons.  Then  followed  the  rather  startling  dis- 
covery that  this  complete  disarrangement  of  the  striped 
structure  of  the  muscular  fibre  was  susceptible  to  perfect 
restoration  on  the  addition  of  a  little  salt  or  sea-water,  a 
substance  chemically  similar  to  blood.  This  experiment 
forced  the  conclusion  that  muscular  fibre  is  not  stable  ma- 
chinery mechanically  moved,  but  that  it  consists  of  a  sub- 
stance possessing  its  own  actuating  principle,  and  that  its 
minute  structural  organization  is  due  to  its  intrinsic  chem- 
ical constitution  and  the  specific  vital  activity  attaching 
to  it. 

In  the  logical  development  of  his  attack  upon  median- 


6OO  THE  MONIST. 

istic  theories  he  questioned  some  of  their  fundamental  pos- 
tulates, energy  and  motion  themselves  being  labeled  "ab- 
stractions." "In  the  whole  range  of  thought/'  says  Mont- 
gomery (Monist,  Vol.  5,  No.  2)  "there  exists  no  more  fan- 
ciful belief  than  that  which  makes  so  utterly  inconceivable 
an  abstraction  as  pure  energy  or  motion  detach  itself  from 
a  moving  mass  to  seize  upon  another  mass  which  it  thereby 
energizes.1'  The  changes  which  are  observed  to  occur  in 
groups  of  physical  existents  are  wrought  by  powers  in- 
herent in  the  interdependent  agents  thus  manifesting  the 
changes.  "We  become  consciously  aware  of  physical  ex- 
istents solely  by  their  sundry  characteristic  activities  stim- 
ulating our  senses."  These  activities  merely  stimulate  our 
senses,  observe,  not  passing  over  into  our  being.  In  like 
manner  motion  merely  stimulates  changes  in  other  physical 
compounds  by  affecting  the  latent  energy  within  their  own 
intimate  and  inalienable  natures.  Experiments  in  catalysis 
are  corroborating  these  assertions  more  and  more,  while 
observations  on  the  nature  of  radium  have  confessedly 
overturned  theories  of  the  conservation  of  energy.  Even 
the  theory  of  the  kineticism  of  gases  must  assume  in  the 
gas-molecules  the  intrinsic  endowments  of  elasticity  and 
motion.  Energy  therefore  is  not  transmissible  and  inter- 
convertible. It  is  not  only  constant  as  an  innate  property 
of  physical  substances,  but  it  is  infinite  and  inexhaustible. 
The  energy,  for  example,  which  manifests  itself  in  this 
table  to  effect  the  visual  sense  would  continue  forever  to 
emanate  its  subtle  force  without  diminution  of  its  stored 
potentiality.  "Three  principal  facts  fatal  to  the  theory  of 
the  conservation  of  energy ....  are :  first,  the  inseparabil- 
ity of  an  activity  from  that  of  which  it  is  the  activity; 
second,  advantage  of  position  due  to  forcible  disequilibra- 
tion ;  and  third,  the  intrinsic  inexhaustible  power  possessed 
by  masses  to  resist  and  counteract  over  and  over  again 
with  undiminished  efficiency,  within  certain  limits,  any 


MONTGOMERY'S  PHILOSOPHY.  601 

external  disturbance  of  their  equilibrated  state."  (Philo- 
sophical Problems,  etc.,  p.  291.) 

Another  of  Montgomery's  intellectual  battles  was 
waged  against  the  cell-aggregation  theories  of  biologists, 
in  his  contention  for  a  purely  unitary  view  of  the  organ- 
ism. "The  assumption  of  autonomous  cells  as  aggregated 
constituent  elements  of  the  out  and  out  organized  unitary 
individual,  and  of  the  composition  of  such  autonomous  cells 
by  a  further  aggregation  of  secondary  units, ....  gives  rise 
to  painfully  labored,  illogical  theories  of  vitality  and  or- 
ganization, wherein  the  imagined  imperceptible  units  are, 
to  begin  with,  arbitrarily  endowed  with  all  the  properties 
they  are  invented  to  explain."  (Page  161,  Philosophical 
Problems,  etc.)  If  this  theory  be  true  the  diversified  tis- 
sues of  organisms  must  be  products  of  a  single  reproduc- 
tive germ-cell  by  a  process  of  cumulative  cell-division. 

Somewhere  Montgomery  thus  formulates  the  riddles 
involved  in  these  germ-cell  theories :  "How  do  the  myriads 
of  differentiated  cell-beings  entering  into  the  formation  of 
a  complex  organism  manage  to  become  potentially  repre- 
sented in  the  initial  germ-cell  from  which  they  emanate? 
and  how  do  the  potential  differentiations  enclosed  in  the 
germ-cell  manage  to  evolve  the  adult  organism?"  Darwin, 
with  his  wonted  frankness,  fronts  his  provisional  hypoth- 
esis of  pangenesis  with  a  scarcely  less  unsolvable  enigma : 
"How  can  the  use  or  disuse  of  a  particular  limb  or  of  a 
brain  affect  a  small  aggregate  of  reproductive  cells  seated 
in  a  distant  part  of  the  body,  in  such  a  manner  that  the 
being  developed  from  these  cells  inherits  the  characters 
of  either  one  or  both  parents?"  Verily  the  problems  of 
regeneration  and  heredity  are  the  fundamental  problems 
and  crux  of  biology ;  and  their  solution  involves  a  mastery 
of  the  mysteries  of  the  dim  world  of  molecular  activities. 
And  here  indeed  is  where  Montgomery  has  sought  his  an- 
swer to  the  sphinx-riddle ;  for  to  him  it  is  the  morphological 


6O2  THE  MONIST. 

output  effected  through  chemical  reintegration  of  the  pro- 
toplasm of  the  spermatozoid  with  its  inherent  vital  prop- 
erties that  forms  the  adult  organism. 

To  Montgomery,  protoplasm  is  not  merely  an  aggrega- 
tion of  molecules  preserved  as  a  mass  by  physical  cohesion, 
but  an  indescerptible  unit,  cohering  under  such  specific 
chemical  bonds  as  distinguish  natural  compounds.  But  its 
vital  functions,  "due  to  a  definite  cycle  of  chemical  activ- 
ities," operate  independently,  and  involve  the  entire  sub- 
stance in  "chemical  solidarity."  That  vital  process  which  de- 
velops the  pseudopodium,  and  which  causes  it  to  withdraw 
again  into  the  emanating  substance,  depends  upon  chemical 
avidity  for  restitution.  Assimilation  is  merely  reintegration 
through  combination  with  appropriate  pabulum,  and  this 
process,  of  course,  involves  the  necessity  of  eliminating 
waste  material.  This  final  act  in  the  catabolic  process  is 
accomplished  by  means  of  depurative  vesicles.  Assimila- 
tion does  not  involve  on  the  part  of  the  living  substance 
a  metamorphosing  of  the  appropriated  material  into  sepa- 
rate vital  beings  like  itself,  as  generally  believed. 

Montgomery  thinks  this  account  of  the  constitution  of 
the  organic  being  lends  itself  readily  as  an  explanation  of 
the  problems  of  reproduction.  His  experiments  in  onto- 
genesis verified  this  conclusion.  He  sliced  into  many  parts 
the  rather  highly  differentiated  stentor,  each  of  which  parts 
developed  a  complete  adult  trumpet-animalcule.  And  this 
morphological  restitution  was  accomplished,  he  asserts,  "by 
dint  of  its  unsaturated  chemical  affinities  managing  by  de- 
grees to  reconstruct,  through  assimilation  of  complemen- 
tary material,  the  chemical  whole  of  which  the  fragments 
formed  a  part."  Metabolism  finds  here,  then,  a  proper 
and  scientific  explanation,  as  do  fissiparity,  the  "budding" 
process,  and  all  other  forms  of  organic  regeneration. 

This,  it  must  be  confessed,  simplifies  matters  encour- 
agingly; but  observers  of  karyokinetic  phenomena  and 


MONTGOMERY'S  PHILOSOPHY.  603 

other  processes  of  fissiparous  division  of  cell-nuclei  will 
doubtless  regard  it  as  inadequate.  It  must  be  admitted 
that  Montgomery's  direct  methods  eliminate  many  of  the 
difficulties  injected  into  the  problem  by  the  cell-aggregation 
hypothesis.  It  would  seem,  however,  that  he  is  not  wholly 
free  from  the  philosophic  vice  of  other  biologists,  so  trench- 
antly attacked  by  him  in  referring  to  their  "surreptitiously 
smuggling"  into  physiological  units  such  plasomes  as  were 
required  to  potentialize  them  with  their  requisite  charac- 
teristics. Montgomery's  philosophic  sins  are  not  so  sub- 
tilly  devised.  They  consist  of  attributing  to  phyletic  pro- 
cesses the  development  of  qualities  apparently  incommen- 
surable with  the  physical,  chemical  and  vital  substrata  of 
his  evolving  substance.  Memory  and  awareness  "intrin- 
sically originate"  from  protoplasm,  in  which  they,  in  weak 
diffusion,  inhere  in  the  same  manner  as  physical  and  chem- 
ical properties  inhere  in  non-vital  substances.  Their  pro- 
gressive sentient  and  conscious  modes  are  then  phyletically 
developed  outcomes,  and  structurally  incorporated.  The 
sublimation  of  that  chemical  reaction  known  as  "irritabil- 
ity" into  thought  and  the  interpretation  of  relations  be- 
tween thoughts,  seems  a  far  leap.  But  his  refutation  of 
the  theory  of  functional  indifference  of  structural  elements, 
as  advocated  by  Lewes  and  Wundt,  went  far  toward  estab- 
lishing his  theory  that  all  vital  reactions  are  attributable 
to  the  intrinsic  endowments  of  their  living  substance  and 
its  specific  structural  organization.  He  further  fortified 
his  position  by  devoting  years  of  study  to  protozoic  organ- 
isms, the  results  of  which  were  published  under  the  title, 
"The  Unity  of  the  Organic  Individual"  (Mind,  1881). 

In  this  valuable  contribution  Montgomery  explains  how 
the  all  but  homogeneous  protoplasmic  individual  becomes 
developed  into  higher  organism  by  reason  of  its  substance 
being  differentiated  into  a  set  of  interdependent  structures 
which  become  more  and  more  developed.  In  transparent 


604  v        THE  MONIST. 

Protozoa  the  whole  cycle  of  activities  in  which  vitality  con- 
sists can  be  directly  observed  in  its  entirety  and  simplicity. 
The  vital  process  brings  nearly  all  the  organism  into  inter- 
active contact  with  the  stimulating  influences  of  the  me- 
dium, and  preserves  its  integrity  and  efficiency  unimpaired. 
Moreover  it  leads  to  structural  development,  for  function 
develops  structure. 

And  here  is  the  foundation  of  Montgomery's  biological 
system.  Primitive  functions  are  phylogenetically  elabo- 
rated. Structure  concomitantly  develops:  not  through 
conative  or  conscious  processes,  but  through  the  activities 
of  the  complemental,  stimulating,  non-mental  power-com- 
plexes beyond  the  conscious  content, — entities  which  pos- 
sess, he  says,  an  apparently  "creative  trend/'  The  muscu- 
lar development  of  the  athlete  is  no  whit  the  result  of  any 
mental  deposit.  It  is  the  inevitable  effect  of  a  transphe- 
nomenal  creative  activity  of  which  consciousness  and  all 
mental  processes  are  also  manifestations.  "Our  fitful  and 
fragmentary  consciousness  is  not  at  all  concerned  in  the 
never-flagging,  vital  activity  whose  toil  alone  maintains 
intact  the  high-wrought  possessions  of  life." 

The  continuity  then  of  organic  life  is  strictly  dependent 
upon  "the  maintenance  of  structural  integrity  and  func- 
tional efficiency."  Upon  this  rests  the  stability  and  con- 
sistency of  the  world  as  revealed  in  consciousness,  and  the 
preservation  of  our  gradually  acquired  experience ;  for  this 
latently  retained  and  automatically  memorized  nexus  of 
past  experience  has  become  inwrought  into  the  ectodermic 
structures.  Without  this  systematic  structural  fixation  of 
the  content  of  the  past,  there  could  exist  no  connatural 
experiential  formulae,  no  conceptional  consistency,  no  log- 
ical integrity,  no  formulation  of  universally  valid  concepts, 
no  categories,  no  norms  of  reason,  no  truth.  It  is  this 
structural  identity,  maintained  despite  changeful  events 
and  the  experiences  of  manifold  varying  actions  performed 


MONTGOMERY'S  PHILOSOPHY.  605 

and  re-performed,  that  constitutes,  according  to  Mont- 
gomery's creed,  the  veritable  substance,  which,  as  before 
stated,  philosophers  are  driven  to  postulate  in  order  to 
secure  an  unimpaired  "issuing  matrix"  and  a  perduring 
support  for  the  perpetual  flux  and  identical  re-issue  of  con- 
scious phenomena.  There  is  no  other  actually  known  sub- 
stance that  meets  the  philosophic  requirements,  for  no  other 
has  the  power  to  preserve  its  identity  while  emanating  the 
changeful  pageantry  of  the  physical  cosmos  or  of  the  phe- 
nomenal world  of  consciousness. 

Looking  then  upon  the  human  structure,  so  minutely 
and  so  significantly  organized,  Montgomery  finds  both 
biology  and  philosophy  compel  him  to  recognize  it  as  the 
veritable  entity  in  whose  being  the  representative  world  of 
consciousness  has  been  toilsomely  fashioned  in  symbolical 
revelation.  For  here  again  let  it  be  remembered  that  the 
perceptual  mind  deals  only  in  symbols  which  but  meagrely 
represent  the  transphenomenal  entities  of  the  real  world. 
The  images  into  which  are  translated  the  "ethereal  vibra- 
tions" impinging  upon  our  specifically  attuned  sensory  sub- 
stance can  possess  no  qualitative  parity  with  the  extra- 
mental  excitant  of  the  molecular  composition  of  the  neural- 
threaded  sense-organ.  What  the  real  character  of  this  ex- 
ternal, sense-stimulating,  changeful  but  perduring  entity 
actually  is  we  have  no  powers  for  determining.  But  cer- 
tain it  is  that  within  the  vitality-touched  fragment  of  the 
great  external  world  which  we  call  our  body  is  fashioned 
the  issuing  matrix  of  consciousness,  and  all  the  mental 
activity  which  delivers  our  world-revelation. 

Whatever  intellectual  giant  man  may  prove  to  be  here 
in  his  own  sphere,  he  is,  in  reality,  but  a  cosmic  pigmy  who 
owes  all  his  gifts  to  creative  powers  incomprehensible  to 
himself,  and  incommensurable  to  his  own  faculties.  The 
belief  in  the  nature-constituting  efficiency  of  one  of  her 
late  manifestations  has  led  philosophers  astray  ever  since 


606  THE   MONIST. 

divine  Plato  elevated  reason  to  supreme  power.  Philo- 
sophic problems  have  ever  since  been  treated  deductively 
from  conceptual  premises  intuitively  derived,  mainly  by 
assigning  to  hypostatized  abstractions  creative  potencies, 
and  regarding  them  as  real  objective  existents.  It  is,  how- 
ever, becoming  more  and  more  evident  that  concepts  are 
mere  subjective,  transitory  mental  representations  of  or- 
ganized and  synthetized  actual  experience,  which  must  be 
scientifically  verified  as  corresponding  to  conditions  natur- 
ally given  before  they  can  serve  as  reliable  data  for  reason- 
ing processes. 

Hume  and  Kant  perceived  that  analytical  propositions 
cannot  enlarge  our  knowledge  of  reality;  but  they  failed 
to  discover  how  synthetical,  knowledge-enlarging  experi- 
ence had  wrought  upon  reason.  Habitual  association  of 
given  particulars,  as  Hume  reasoned,  or  mind-made  syn- 
thesis of  given  appearances,  as  defined  by  Kant,  fails  to 
give  to  concepts  their  necessary  character  of  permanency. 
According  to  Montgomery  the  explanation  lay  in  the  fact 
that  during  the  interaction  of  the  organism  with  its  phys- 
ical and  social  medium,  newly  acquired  experience  be- 
comes "creatively  incorporated"  into  the  structural  matrix 
which  preserves  past  experience,  the  entire  organism  be- 
ing, in  every  detail  of  structure,  a  perceptible  record  of  its 
entire  racial  experience.  Concepts  are  therefore  nucleated 
bodies  of  thought  organically  synthetized  subsuming  ap- 
prehended similarities,  and  lending  themselves  to  "analyt- 
ical judgments  and  dialectic  evolutions  in  elucidation  of 
experientially  accrued  knowledge."  (Philosophical  Prob- 
lems, page  12.) 

Thus  at  a  considerable  expenditure  of  mental  effort, 
Montgomery  refutes  all  conceptualistic  theories  that  assign 
to  intelligence  creative  potency.  "Neither  Plotinus  nor 
Spinoza,  neither  Scotus  Erigina  nor  Schelling,  neither 
Leibnitz  nor  Hegel  have,  in  their  various  attempts,  in  the 


MONTGOMERY'S  PHILOSOPHY.  607 


remotest  degree  succeeded  in  showing  how  the  world  of  di- 
rect, actual  experience  can  in  any  way  be  evolved  from  an 
ideally  constituted  Absolute,  or  indeed  from  any  kind  of 
ideally  conceived  substance."  (Philosophical Problems,  etc., 
page  21.)  The  "psychical  force/'  a  self-emanating  activ- 
ity postulated  by  Leibnitz,  evolving  its  phenomenal  pro- 
ducts out  of  "an  unsubstantial  void,"  and  the  "hyposta- 
tized  beingless  abstraction"  to  which  Fichte's  non-sub- 
stantialism  reduced  the  creative  agency  are  shown  to  be 
worthless  as  epistemological  data.  Spinoza's  Substance 
is  but  an  arbitrarily  endowed  essence  of  all  potentiality, 
which  Montgomery  likens  to  pure  white  light  potentially 
comprising  all  colors.  "But,"  he  asks,  "whence  the  activ- 
ity, the  power  that  shapes  the  definite  form,  that  breaks 
the  single  white  radiance  into  variegated  multiplicity ;  that 
segregates  from  homogeneous  all-comprehension  the  spe- 
cial attributes  of  'thought'  and  'extension'  which  are  held 
to  constitute  our  world  ?"  No  answer  is  afforded,  he  says, 
by  any  absolutistic  ontology.  "Divine  substance  refuses 
rationally  to  tear  its  perfection  to  tatters.  If  it  does  so 
'irrationally,'  as  Schelling  maintains,  it  then  becomes  guilty 
of  all  the  pitiful  insufficiency  that,  then,  follows  from  so 
degrading  an  action.  Schopenhauer's  pessimism  is  the 
consistent  outcome  of  such  a  conception."  (Philosophical 
Problems,  page  24.) 

Montgomery's  own  naturalistic  conception  of  Sub- 
stance, then,  affords  a  relief  from  the  rarified  subtleties  of 
the  metaphysicians.  Reason  or  intelligence  in  whatever 
form  objectified  or  hypostatized,  is  possessed  of  no  crea- 
tive efficiency.  Its  sole  function  is  that  of  rationally  as- 
sisting the  organism  to  adjustively  meet  the  conditions  of 
a  social  and  physical  environment.  This  ability  is  con- 
naturally  and  concomitantly  developed  with  its  phyletic  evo- 
lution, its  increasing  enlargement  and  specialization  of 


608  THE  MONIST. 

function  being  permanently  and  availably  inwrought  in 
structural  exponents. 

The  ethical  creed  deduced  from  these  naturalistic  prem- 
ises, with  much  else  of  interest,  must  be  left  without  com- 
ment. Montgomery's  books  and  papers  should  find  a  per- 
manent place  in  philosophical  literature.  Sometime  they 
will  be  credited  with  yielding  an  illuminating  glimpse  into 
the  profundities  of  Nescience. 

CHARLES  ALVA  LANE. 

ALLIANCE,  OHIO. 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS. 

"SELF-REALIZATION"  AND  THE  WAY  OUT. 

As  a  theory  the  ethical  doctrine  of  the  English  transcendentalists 
is  reconstructive  rather  than  constructive.  Since  Green's  "Prolego- 
mena" we  have  had  from  them  nothing  in  the  way  of  new  and 
positive  principles:  at  the  most  they  have  given  us  the  formula  of 
"self-realization,"  which  they  have  derived  altogether  by  criticism 
of  the  historical  types  of  ethical  theory.  Though  they  differ  from 
their  predecessors  in  a  more  scientific  psychology,  better  method, 
nicer  illustration  and  finer  literary  style,  they  are  still  at  the  meeting 
of  the  ways,  because  they  mistake  a  secondary  for  the  fundamental 
fallacy  in  hedonism  and  rationalism,"  and  thereby  perceive  not  an 
original  constructive  point  of  departure  for  their  own  doctrine. 

That  fallacy  is  not,  as  the  English  transcendentalists  take  it  to 
be,  the  sacrifice  of  the  integrity  of  the  self,  on  the  one  hand  to  sensi- 
bility, on  the  other  to  reason,  but  the  greater  sacrifice  of  infinite 
potentialities  to  an  artificial  general  concept.  In  this  essay  I  aim 
to  point  out  the  fundamental  fallacy  in  rationalistic  ethics,  and  to 
indicate  a  constructive  way  out  for  the  self-realizationists. 

We  shall  make  a  poor  start  if  we  attend  at  all  to  the  traditional 
distinction  between  sensibility  and  reason  and  their  ethical  values. 
It  is  now  a  commonplace  of  moral  philosophy  that  rationalism  is 
quite  unpsychologically  founded.  We  shall  begin  well,  if  for  a 
start  we  single  out  a  central  aspect  of  the  Stoic  ethics,  against 
which  modern  psychology  can  direct  a  valid,  but  ignored,  criticism. 
I  mean  the  rationalistic  attitude  to  "Fortune." 

I. 

In  his  De  Consolatione  Philosophiae  (Bk.  II,  cap.  4)  Boethius 
reports  Wisdom  as  saying,  "Adeo  nihil  est  miserum,  nisi  cum  putes ; 
contraque  beata  sors  omnis  est  aequanimitate  tolerantis," — which  is 
almost  a  literal  anticipation  of  Hamlet's  reflection,  "There's  nothing 


6lO  THE   MONIST. 

either  good  or  bad  but  thinking  makes  it  so."  Modern  psychology 
would  develop  these  maxims  in  two  directions.  First:  human  con- 
sciousness, which  only  for  analytic  and  expository  purposes  may 
be  divided  into  special  parts  and  separate  processes,  is  the  source 
of  all  value  in  the  world,  of  good  and  evil  in  every  sense.  If  we 
were  merely  automata — and  in  this  day  when  we  have  talking 
machines  and  walking  machines  that  do  human  things  and  feign 
human  ends,  the  conception  is  not  irrelevant, — conceivably  we  might 
come  to  make  all  those  useful  reactions  on  our  environment  which 
we  now  consciously  make,  but  without  thinking,  they  could  be 
designated  useful  only  by  metaphor:  to  us  as,  ex  hypothesi,  autom- 
ata, our  environment  and  all  its  vicissitudes  would  be  indifferent, 
neither  good  nor  bad. 

Now,  by  certain  inveterate  habits  of  thought,  or  under  certain 
exigencies  of  explanation,  we  abstract  from  consciousness  all  its 
vital  and  sensitive  content  until  it  becomes  merely  cognitive.  Then, 
forgetting  that  we  have  arrived  by  abstraction  at  this  conception 
of  the  human  mind  as  an  intellectus  purus,  we  submit  that  from 
reason  alone  the  world  and  conscious  existence  derive  all  their 
value.  But  if  consciousness  were  merely  cognitive,  we  should  at 
best  be  nothing  more  than  intellectual  automata;  and  thus  our  en- 
vironment would  be  merely  a  system  of  mathematically  related 
objects,  devoid  of  all  that  would  make  life  worth  living.  Only 
human  consciousness,  as  phenomenally  given  in  its  integrity — cog- 
nitive, appetitive,  and  volitional  through  and  through — can  con- 
stitute excellence,  establish  ideals,  and  create  an  environment  of  good 
and  evil. 

Fortune,  then,  has  no  other  origin  than  this : — it  is  the  offspring, 
not,  as  the  Stoics  conceived  it,  of  foreign  and  capricious  fate,  but  of 
our  own  nature  and  idiosyncrasy.  In  other  words,  fortune  is  a 
short-hand  term  for  all  those  things  in  the  world  which  satisfy  or 
dissatisfy  our  vital  impulses,  which  are  dear  or  repugnant  to  the 
heart,  or  delightful  to  the  imagination. 

Again:  So  far  this  is  a  very  simple  and  obvious  piece  of  psy- 
chology ;  but  because  the  English  transcendentalists,  as  before  them 
the  Stoics,  consider  only  its  subjective  meaning,  they  miss  its  appli- 
cation and  value  in  ethical  theory.  On  the  subjective  side,  while  the 
Stoics  saw  that  by  negating  the  world,  that  by  consciously  willing 
to  live  without  its  goods,  they  could  thus  fortify  themselves  against 
"the  slings  and  arrows  of  outrageous  fortune,"  they  did  not  see  the 
deeper  meaning  of  this  attitude  of  spiritual  detachment  from  the 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  6ll 

world.  Carry  out  this  method  of  exclusion  to  its  logical  end,  and 
it  must  result  that  there  will  be  neither  a  world  nor  a  self  at  all. 

Modern  psychology,  on  the  other  hand,  taking  for  its  datum  the 
concrete  phenomenal  consciousness,  not  only  names  and  describes 
our  psychic  processes  in  terms  of  the  objects  on  which  they  func- 
tion, but  views  these  processes  as  constituting  both  the  active  sub- 
stance and  the  content  of  the  self.  This  is  a  method  of  inclusion,  em- 
pirically based.  But  the  inevitable  abstraction  which  results  from 
the  subjective  method  of  exclusion,  led  the  rationalists,  from  the 
Stoics  to  Kant,  to  set  up  an  artificial  general  concept  as  the  real, 
essential  self.  As,  in  the  view  of  the  Stoics,  the  self  could  "cut 
loose"  from  fortune  by  denying  the  real  existence  of  external  goods, 
so,  too,  the  soul  could  escape  fortune  by  affirming  only  the  validity 
and  worth  of  intellectual  processes  as  such.  Psychologically  viewed, 
this  is  not  losing  the  self  to  find  it,  but  finding  the  self  to  lose  it  in 
an  empty  form — and  nothingness. 

Under  our  analysis,  it  appears,  fortune  is  but  the  complex  of 
our  possible  interests  objectified  in  our  material,  social  and  spiritual 
environment;  and  the  concrete  self  is  the  complex  of  perceptive 
processes  and  vital  reactions  that  create  our  demands,  interests  and 
ideals,  and  constitute  the  world  of  good  and  evil.  Not,  then,  any 
abstract,  formal  divorce  between  sensibility  and  reason,  but  the 
insistence  on  a  real,  practical  and  absolute  separation  between  the 
substance  of  consciousness  and  its  content,  between  self  and  fortune 
(not-self), — this  is  the  fundamental  fallacy  in  all  rationalistic  ethics, 
from  the  Stoics  to  the  English  transcendentalists. 

Let  me  add,  before  we  proceed,  that  there  is  in  this  no  tendency 
on  my  part  to  hark  back  to  subjective  idealism  or  solipsism.  For, 
as  we  shall  see,  while  the  distinction  of  self  from  not-self  is  a  func- 
tion of  the  process  of  perception,  in  practice  it  becomes  a  futility 
and  in  ethical  theory  a  superstition.  The  truth  the  distinction  sig- 
nalizes in  ethics  needs  restatement.  But  as  it  stands  historically  in 
the  system  of  the  monists  it  is  literally,  in  the  Hellenistic  sense,  a 
o-KavSaAov, — a  stumbling  block.  When  we  see  how  and  in  what  sense 
this  is  so,  we  have  found  a  constructive  point  of  departure  for  the 
monistic  theory  of  self-realization.  To  this  we  now  turn. 

ii. 

The  charge  of  formalism,  which  the  self-realizationists  bring 
against  Kant's  doctrine  may  be  as  justly  laid  against  their  own ;  and, 
further,  their  concept  of  personality,  for  from  being  a  principle 


6l2  THE  MONIST. 

which  overcomes  the  simple  psychological  dualism  of  the  rational- 
ists, only  results  in  a  profounder  dualism.  This  outcome  is  alto- 
gether the  product  of  certain  stubborn  incoherences  of  thought, 
abetted  by  an  inherited  apriorism. 

When  the  self-realizationists  work  from  the  dignity  and  author- 
ity of  reason — which  means  that,  a  priori,  sensibility  is  held  in  con- 
tempt— they  arrive  at  the  "idea  of  self"  as  the  constitutive  principle 
of  morality.  I  do  not  deny  the  validity  and  worth  of  this  principle ; 
but  I  affirm  that  the  constructive  principle  of  morality  is  no  such 
abstract  idea  and  has  no  such  ground  and  origin  in  human  nature 
as  the  English  transcendentalists  allege.  The  authority  of  reason 
does  not  come  from  itself,  but  from  our  irrational  nature, — from 
our  despised  sensibility  and  the  moral  consciousness,  of  which  rea- 
son and  reflection  are  a  part  but  the  last  part.  Only  a  mind  sophis- 
ticated by  idealistic  tradition  and  inveterate  abstract  reflection  can 
credit  reason  with  more  inherent  dignity  and  authority  than  it  grants 
to  sensibility. 

If  we  reduce  the  matter  merely  to  verbal  propriety,  it  is  the 
truth  that  far  from  feeling  being,  as  it  is  traditionally  conceived, 
the  servant  of  reason,  reason  is  the  servant  of  feeling.  But  in  real- 
ity it  is  so  because  vital  impulse  creates  first  the  demand  for  life  and 
next  for  rationality  in  organizing  our  faculties  and  energies.  In 
short,  the  dignity  and  authority  of  reason  and  the  rationalistic  "idea 
of  self"  are  but  contents  of  that  very  consciousness  which  they  are 
supposed  to  explain, — ideals  which  it  creates  and  explains. 

If  the  case  stands  thus  with  the  transcendental  "idea  of  self," 
if  it  is  an  empty  a  priori  form,  the  self-realizationists  must  face  a 
still  graver  charge:  their  apriorism  creates  a  profounder  dualism 
than  anything  Stoic  or  Kantian.  We  shall  better  see  the  truth  of 
this  if  we  observe  how  a  member  of  the  pluralist  camp  puts  the  case 
for  the  self-realizationists.  Says  Professor  James  Seth:  "As  the 
watchword  of  hedonism  may  be  said  to  be  self-satisfaction  or  self- 
gratification,  and  as  that  of  rigorism  [rationalism]  is  apt  to  be 
self-sacrifice  and  self-denial,  so  the  watchword  of  eudsemonism  may 
be  said  to  be  self-realization  or  self-fulfilment.  It  seems  almost  a 
truism  to  say  that  the  end  of  human  life  is  self-realization.  The  aim 
of  every  living  being. . .  .may  be  described  as  self-preservation  and 
self-development,  or  in  a  single  term,  self-realization.  . .  .Moreover, 
every  ethical  theory  might  claim  the  term  "self-realization,"  as  each 
might  claim  the  term  "happiness."  The  question  is,  What  is  the 
"self"?  or,  Which  self  is  to  be  realized?  Hedonism  answers,  the 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  613 

sentient  self ;  rigorism,  the  rational  self ;  eudaemonism,  the  total  self, 
rational  and  sentient."* 

Now,  I  submit,  if  to  the  ethical  command  "Realize  thyself,"  the 
question  keeps  the  form,  "Which  self?"  then  we  shall  only  concern 
ourselves  again  with  the  old  problem  of  the  relation  of  sensibility 
and  reason  in  the  individual,  and  we  shall  never  thus  accomplish 
anything  more  than  a  tentative  reconstruction  of  the  broken  frag- 
ments of  the  historical  types  of  ethical  theory.  Positive  construc- 
tion will  begin  only  with  a  direct  empirical  answer  to  the  question, 
'Who  (or  What)  is  my  self?'  There  is  in  this  question  no  reference 
to  sensibility  or  reason,  or  any  merely  conceived  elements  or  pro- 
cesses of  consciousness.  For  the  question  starts  an  immediate  psy- 
chological investigation  of  the  phenomenal  consciousness  as  such, 
but  soon  rises  out  of  its  empirical  confines  into  the  metaphysical 
zone,  without  any  violation  of  scientific  method  or  human  nature. 

We  proceed  immediately  from  an  irreducible  datum  of  psy- 
chology. The  teaching  of  to-day  is  apt  to  describe  consciousness  in 
terms  of  a  few  familiar  characteristics :  it  is  personal,  always  chang- 
ing but  sensibly  continuous,  selective,  motor,  etc.  Paramount  for 
ethics  is  the  fact  that  all  these  are  realized  and  expressed  in  another 
characteristic,  namely,  that  consciousness  is  essentially  social.  How- 
ever much  theoretical  psychology  may  insist  on  distinguishing  in 
the  process  of  perception  the  substance  from  the  content  of  con- 
sciousness, the  active  knowing  self  from  not-self,  or  "I"  from 
"mine,"  we  must  recognize  in  practice  that  these  are  abstract  and 
relative  distinctions. 

In  its  objective  references,  as  well  as  in  its  inner  essence,  con- 
sciousness is  an  inclusive  activity.  Prof.  William  James  rather 
understates,  or  too  pragmatically  puts,  this  truth.  The  "sense  of 
the  shrinkage  [and  enlargement]  of  personality"  is,  he  says,  "a 
psychological  phenomenon  by  itself."  It  is  not,  however,  so  true 
that  the  concrete  empirical  self  shrivels  or  expands,  as  that  it  actually 
is  or  is  not,  in  direct  proportion  to  the  number  and  variety  of  the 
objects  which  appeal  to  sense  and  imagination  and  satisfy  vital  im- 
pulse. The  phenomenon  is  an  immediate  and  characteristic  psycho- 
logical datum.  As,  in  perception,  a  taste  which  is  not  tasted,  or 
pleasure  which  is  not  felt,  is  nothing,  so  in  practice  the  self  is  zero 
if  its  activities  center  nowhere,  and  infinite  if  they  have  universal 
content  and  direction.  The  indisputable  proof  of  this  is  no  mere 

*  James  Seth,  A  Study  of  Ethical  Principles,  ist  edition  (1894),  p.  204. 
The  italics  in  the  quotation  are  Professor  Seth's. 


614  THE  MONIST. 

pragmatic  test,  but  the  sense  and  emotion  of  personality  in  the 
presence  of  the  world ;  we  actually  feel  ourselves,  not  only  real  beings, 
but  also  greater  or  less  individualities,  according  as  our  world  and 
interests  are  widened  or  narrowed,  recognized  or  ignored. 

On  the  other  hand,  this  psychological  phenomenon  is  the  first 
condemnation  of  the  transcendental  attitude  to  sensibility  and  rea- 
son and  the  disproof  of  the  abstract  "idea  of  self"  as  the  constitutive 
principle  of  morality.  Only  a  devotee  of  apriorism  can  dignify  and 
sublimate  the  so-called  spiritual  processes  of  the  self  into  a  separate 
and  authoritative  unity  on  its  own  account,  and  name  it  par  excel- 
lence— the  self.  Our  bodies,  family,  possessions,  and  even  our 
philosophies,  no  less  han  our  spiritual  processes  as  such,  when  they 
are  intimately  related  to  our  finite  organization  and  felt  to  be  ours, 
are  essentially  part  of  the  self. 

We  are  ready  now  for  the  application,  and  for  the  formulating 
of  our  constructive  principle.  The  immanent  social  function  of  con- 
sciousness— the  innate  tendency  of  self  to  inclusion  of  all  reality — 
is  the  fundamental  datum  which  the  self-realizationists  have  ignored. 
In  our  view,  the  real  and  complete  identification  of  self  with  universal 
reality  is  as  much  a  psychological  necessity  as  a  moral  ideal.  In 
virtue  of  this  social  function  of  consciousness  it  is  no  longer  pos- 
sible either  (i)  to  make  self-consciousness  idiocentric  or  (2)  to 
split  the  universe  into  self  and  not-self.  Without  here  at  all  passing 
into  phenomenalism  or  solipsism,  the  ultimate  and  real  distinction 
is  between  the  active,  appropriating  self  and  the  potential  self.  And, 
as  in  perception  the  apperceptive  content  of  consciousness  is  the 
mind  which  makes  experience  from  nature  (not-self),  so  in  prac- 
tice the  concrete  social  self  constitutes  morality  from  the  potential 
self  by  appropriation  and  identification. 

This  distinction,  from  our  point  of  view,  is  as  relative  and  con- 
ventional as  the  distinction  between  selfishness  and  unselfishness: 
the  difference  is  solely  one  of  the  universality  and  objectification  of 
human  activities  and  interests.  "O  Universe,  I  wish  all  that  thou 
wishest,"  said  Marcus  Aurelius ;  and  thus  by  identifying  his  will 
and  interests  with  total  reality,  his  own  finite  self  became  one  with 
the  universal  self.  This,  then,  is  the  constructive  way  out  for  the 
self-realizationists. 

That  the  accidents  of  our  physical  nature,  and  of  social  and 
cosmic  evolution,  prevent  the  actual  absorption  of  universal  reality 
into  the  life  of  the  human  spirit,  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  logical 
issue.  The  question,  "Who  (or  What)  is  my  self?"  is  already  an- 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  615 

swered.  For  objective  reality — fortune,  material  goods,  institutions, 
offices  and  humanity  and  God — stands  over  against  the  finite  self, 
not  as  some  absolute  "other,"  but  as  its  own  potential  self.  The 
Absolute,  that  is  to  say,  is  my  real  and  complete  self. 

I  may  point  the  matter  familiarly  in  this  way.  When  we  read 
in  the  Scriptures  that  "God  so  loved  the  world,"  habitually  we  not 
only  misplace  the  emphasis  but  also  suppose  that  this  act  of  the 
deity  was  wholly  gratuitous  and  gracious  on  his  part.  But  from  the 
very  nature  of  consciousness  as  social,  anything  less  than  the  com- 
plete inclusion  of  the  world  (i.  e.,  the  totality  of  human  spirits)  in 
God's  love  was  impossible.  And  so  must  it  be  in  our  own  case. 
Anything  less  than  the  identification  of  our  finite,  actual  self  with 
the  Absolute,  who  is  our  infinite  potential  self,  is  logically  impossible 
and  morally  futile. 

To  sum  up :  When  the  self-realizationists  charge  the  rationalists 
with  reducing  morality  to  formalism,  we  may  justly  reply  that  their 
own  concept  of  personality  is  a  pure  a  priori  product  and  their 
"idea  of  self"  an  empty  abstraction.  Their  apriorism  confines  at- 
tention too  much  to  the  subjective  content  and  meaning  of  personal- 
ity, and  their  maxim,  "Realize  self"  compels  us  again  to  ask  the  tra- 
ditional question,  "Which  self?"  And  thus  we  never  get  beyond  the 
problem  of  the  relation  of  sensibility-  and  reason  in  the  life  of  the 
individual  as  such.  On  the  other  hand,  the  inquiry,  "Who  (or 
What)  is  my  self?"  has  a  direct  empirical  answer  in  the  social  nature 
of  consciousness.  On  this  datum  of  psychology  as  a  stepping  stone, 
we  may  rise  without  fear  of  hindrance  or  contradiction  into  the 
metaphysical  zone.  To  be  sure,  psychology  has  nothing  to  say  as  to 
whether  the  universe  is  a  personality  or  not.  But  for  ourselves,  as- 
suming the  proof  of  spiritual  monism,  "Realize  self"  becomes  a  con- 
crete, practical  maxim.  For  although  we  must  wait  on  experience 
and  social  evolution  for  the  knowledge  of  the  means  of  self-realiza- 
tion, we  are  always  sure  of  the  nature  of  self  and  the  content  of  the 
moral  ideal.  "Realize  self"  now  means,  "In  your  own  finite  life  ful- 
fil and  perfect  the  life  of  the  Absolute  Spirit." 

J.  D.  LOGAN. 

TORONTO,  CANADA. 


A  TWENTIETH   CENTURY  ZENO. 

In  considering  any  attempt  to  prove  Euclid's  parallel  postulate, 
it  is  well  to  consider  first  what  is  meant  by  geometrical  proof.     In 


6l6  THE  MONIST. 

defining  some  terms  by  means  of  others,  it  is  obvious  that  we  must 
begin  primarily  with  some  terms  which  are  themselves  left  undefined. 
To  prove  any  statement  is  to  show  that  it  follows  as  a  logical  con- 
sequence from  relations  already  accepted,  so  that  we  must  even- 
tually begin  likewise  with  statements  for  which  no  proof  is  offered. 
These  initial  statements  are  frequently  called  "axioms"  but  had 
better  be  called  "assumptions,"  since  we  are  at  liberty  to  make  choice 
of  these  statements  in  any  way  we  please,  subject  to  but  one  con- 
dition, namely,  that  they  must  not  contradict  one  another.  For  an 
ideal  system  they  must  be  likewise  independent — that  is,  such  that 
no  assumption  follows  as  a  logical  necessity  from  one  or  more  of  the 
others. 

It  will  be  apparent,  therefore,  that  our  ability  to  prove  any 
theorem  will  depend  upon  our  initial  assumptions,  and  that  without 
a  knowledge  of  the  assumptions  employed,  the  proving  of  a  state- 
ment is  meaningless.  Now  from  very  early  times  it  was  thought 
that  Euclid's  parallel  postulate  could  be  deduced  from  his  other 
assumptions,  or,  in  other  words,  that  his  system  was  redundant ;  and 
the  different  places  in  the  ancient  editions  occupied  by  this  historic 
statement  would  seem  to  indicate  that  Euclid  himself  was  somewhat 
in  doubt  as  to  the  necessity  of  inserting  it.  Thus  have  arisen  the 
attempts  to  prove  this  assumption — that  is,  to  deduce  it  from  his 
other  assumptions ;  and  though  all  these  attempts  have  failed,  they 
have  nevertheless  been  most  fruitful  in  illuminating  the  subject  of 
the  foundations  of  geometry.  By  making  some  other  assumption 
we  may  easily  prove  Euclid's ;  for  example,  it  is  now  customary  to 
use  some  such  modification  of  Playfair's  assumption  as  "Through 
a  point  without  a  line  there  cannot  be  two  parallels  to  the  line." 
Such  substitution,  however,  is  not  contemplated  in  an  attempt  to 
prove  the  parallel  postulate. 

Conversely,  to  disprove  a  statement,  is  to  show  that  it  contra- 
dicts, or  leads  to  a  contradiction  of,  some  other  statement  logically 
deduced  from  the  original  assumptions.  That  one  discredits  a  state- 
ment is  no  more  a  logical  objection  to  it  than  is  one's  credence  to 
be  regarded  as  logical  proof.  One  is  at  liberty  to  replace  any  as- 
sumption of  an  ideal  system  by  any  other  likewise  independent  of  the 
remaining  assumptions  and  evolve  a  geometry  differing  materially 
from  the  former,  the  sole  logical  criterion  being  that  of  consistency ; 
but  one  is  not  at  liberty  to  add  assumptions,  not  contemplated  by  the 
author  of  a  proposed  system,  nor  can  the  latter  be  held  responsible 
for  contradictions  or  inconsistencies  in  consequence  of  the  liberty 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  617 

so  taken.  Now  the  geometry  of  Lobatchevsky  consists  in  replacing 
Euclid's  parallel  postulate  by  an  assumption  which  we  may  express 
thus :  "Through  a  point  not  on  a  given  line  we  can  have  more  than 
one  line  not  intersecting  the  given  line/'  the  system  being,  of  course, 
co-planar.  Any  logical  objection  to  the  resulting  system  must  not 
therefore  assume  the  Euclidean  postulate  directly  or  indirectly  by 
employing  some  theorem  which  is  based  on  this  postulate. 

These  considerations  are  evidently  overlooked  by  the  writer  of 
"A  Modern  Zeno"  in  the  April  number  of  The  Monist.  For  example, 
he  says  (page  294)  : 

"Now  a  right-angled  isosceles  triangle  may  be  dissected  into  two  other 
half  size  right-angled  isosceles  triangles  by  a  line  drawn  from  the  mid-point 
of  the  hypotenuse  to  the  vertex  of  the  right  angle " 

If  the  author  can  prove  this  statement  without  using  Euclid's 
parallel  postulate,  or  one  equivalent  to  it,  his  demonstration  will  be 
by  no  means  "an  imputation  upon  the  reader."  If,  as  we  are  certain 
will  prove  to  be  the  case,  he  finds  it  necessary  to  use  this  postulate, 
then  he  has  added  it  unlawfully  to  the  system  of  Lobatchevsky  and  is 
himself  responsible  for  all  resulting  incongruities. 

On  page  301  he  considers  the  following  figure,  where  BB'  and 
CC  are  perpendicular  to  DD',  A  being  the  mid-point  of  DD'  and 
AH  a  parallel  to  DC  through  A : 


He  shows  (as  is  easily  seen  by  symmetry)  that  AH'||  D'B', 
and  then  shows  apparently  that 

B'D'B  1 1  H'AH, 
H'AH  1 1  CDC, 
and  therefore  B'D'B  1 1  CDC. 

He  seems  to  overlook  the  fact  that  in  the  geometry  of  Lobat- 
chevsky parallelism  is  a  sensed  relation,  a  fact  apparent  enough, 
however,  in  the  author's  own  quotations,  as  for  example, 

"We  must  allow  two  parallels,  one  on  the  one  and  one  on  the  other  side" 
(page  292). 

"Under  this  assumption  we  must  also  make  a  distinction  of  sides  in  paral- 
lelism" (page  292). 


6l8  THE  MONIST. 

"The  farther  parallel  lines  are  prolonged  on  the  side  of  their  parallelism, 
the  more  they  approach  one  another"  (page  294). 

In  other  words,  if  AH  1 1  DC,  then  AH  is  not  parallel  to  CD. 
By  keeping  this  in  mind  one  can  easily  discover  the  fallacy  of  his 
course  of  deduction  "no  step  of  which  is  unsanctioned  by  the  'system' 
of  Lobatchevsky"  (!)  by  which  he  proves  that  in  the  above  figure 
KAK'  is  parallel  to  HAH".  These,  among  many  other  fallacies  to 
which  attention  might  be  called,  show  that  the  author's  criticism  of 
the  system  of  Lobatchevsky  is  not  very  formidable. 

The  author  appears  to  be  likewise  unfortunate  in  his  construc- 
tive work.  In  proposing  a  definition  for  a  straight  line,  he  says 
(pp.  304  and  305)  : 

"Take  any  two  points,  say  A  and  B.  With,  say,  A  as  a  turn-point  (it 
might  just  as  well  have  been  B)  and  with  the  interval  AB  as  the  compass 
opening,  scribe  the  circle  BXiX2,  etc.  clear  around  complete.  Then  with  B  as 
turn-point  and  with  any  opening  of  the  compass,  short  of  2AB,  mark  off  on 
the  first  circle  two  points,  say  Xi  and  Yi.  The  same  will  be,  of  course,  at 
equal  intervals  from  B.  Then  from  each  of  the  points  so  marked  scribe  circles 
with  the  compass  opening  the  interval  AB.  Such  circles  will  all  pass  through 
A,  but  besides  that  they  will  otherwhere  intersect  and  determine  a  point  as, 
say  Zi"  (Z  probably  stands  for  Zeno). 

JT7 

X8 


Vll 


Y5 

Now  what  is  AB?  A  straight  line  segment  (or  sect,  to  use  Dr. 
Halsted's  happy  term)  ?  If  it  be  a  sect,  then  he  is  using  a  sect  in 
defining  the  property  of  straightness !  If  it  be  not  a  sect,  then  what 
significance  has  2AB?  In  speaking  of  the  points  X,  Y,  Z,  he  as- 
sumes (apparently  unconsciously)  that  under  certain  conditions 
which  he  does  not  explicitly  set  forth,  two  circles  may  have  two 
common  points,  but  no  more.  The  condition  under  which  they  have 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  619 

only  one  common  point  is  involved  in  his  construction  by  circles 
centered  at  X6  and  Y6,  yet  logically  he  cannot  consider  this  important 
exception  to  his  own  statements.  Again,  in  assuming  that  two  circles 
cannot  have  three  common  points  he  is  virtually  assuming  Euclid's 
parallel  postulate  with  a  few  theorems  included.  The  conditions 
under  which  they  have  two  common  points  require  for  their  con- 
sideration the  definition  of  points  within  and  without  a  circle,  which 
definition  requires  a  comparison  of  sects,  the  conditions  involving 
in  their  ultimate  analysis  the  assumption  that  a  straight  line  through 
a  point  within  a  circle  has  one  point  (and  therefore  two  points)  in 
common  with  the  circle!  Also,  the  transition  from  an  aggregate 
of  distinct  points  (and  these  ununiformly  distributed)  to  that  of  a 
continuous  line  is,  if  not  impossible,  at  least  quite  difficult. 

Another  point  which  should  be  considered  is  that  of  simplicity 
in  the  initial  assumptions;  just  as  chemistry  is  founded  on  elements 
and  biology  begins  with  single  cells,  so  geometry  should  have  for 
its  basis  the  simplest  possible  assumptions,  each  consisting,  so  far 
as  possible,  of  a  single  statement.  It  was  in  all  probability,  the  com- 
plexity of  Euclid's  parallel  postulate,  "If  a  Right  Line,  falling  upon 
two  other  Right  Lines,  makes  the  inward  Angles  on  the  same  side 
thereof,  both  together,  less  than  two  Right  Angles,  those  two  Right 
Lines,  infinitely  produced,  will  meet  each  other  on  that  Side  where 
the  Angles  are  less  than  Right  ones,"  which  maintained  interest  in 
it,  even  if  it  did  not  afford  the  initial  grounds  for  suspicion,  rather 
than  with  regard  to  the  relatively  simple  assumption  which  usually 
immediately  precedes  it,  "Two  Right  Lines  do  not  contain  a  Space." 
This  simplicity  which  is  in  accord  with  the  treatment  of  geometry 
by  all  modern  critics  is  at  variance  with  the  course  pursued  by  the 
author  of  the  article  in  question. 

Again,  referring  to  AH  as  the  boundary  of  lines  from  A  cutting 
DC,  as  AF,  and  not  cutting  DC,  as  AG,  he  says  (page  297), 


F 

"But  he  definitely  puts  his  parallel  among  the  lines  that  do  not  cut    But 
how  about  the  relation  of  that  parallel  to  the  next  line,  that  is,  the  last  of  the 


62O  THE  MONIST. 

lines  that  cut  DC?    Does  it  make  an  angle  with  the  parallel  or  is  it  the  same 
line?" 

Consider  the  same  argument  in  connection  with  the  following 
figure  in  orthodox  Euclidean  geometry,  where  AE  and  DC  are  per- 
pendicular to  AD  and  are  therefore  parallel.  All  other  lines  (or 
rays)  in  the  angle  DAE  intersect  DC.  Let  AK  be  "the  last  of  the 
lines  that  cut  DC.  Does  it  make  an  angle  with  the  parallel  or  is  it 
the  same  line  ? .  . . . 

A 


K 


"If  the  lines  make  an  angle  I  suppose  that  that  angle  can  be  bisected,  in- 
deed «-sected,  and  such  section-lines  will  be  lines  that  neither  cut  nor  non-cut. 
If  the  lines  are  only  one  single  line  then  we  have  a  line  that  both  cuts  and 
non-cuts." 

Of  course  this  argument  is  entirely  fallacious,  but  it  applies 
equally  badly,  nevertheless,  to  the  geometry  of  Euclid  and  to  Lobat- 
chevsky.  Other  portions  of  the  article  are,  of  course,  equally  vul- 
nerable. 

G.  W.  GREENWOOD,  M.  A.  (Oxon). 

DUN  BAR,  PA. 


Mr.  F.  C.  RUSSELL  STILL  DEMURS. 

To  the  Editor  of  The  Monist: 

I  wish  to  thank  the  Editor  for  his  considerate  notice  of  my 
article  "A  Modern  Zeno"  in  The  Monist  of  April,  1909.  I  think, 
however,  that  he  is  in  error  as  to  my  assumption  of  the  straight 
line.  It  was  my  special  and  paramount  solicitude  to  avoid  that  as- 
sumption, and  it  seems  to  me  that  I  have  succeeded.  But  a  discussion 
of  the  points  involved  would  make  this  reply  too  prolix. 

I  intended  to  make,  and  I  thought  I  made,  my  article  a  distinct 
plea  for  better  information.  I  judged  myself  an  example  of  a  nu- 
merous class  who  seem  to  themselves  to  have  good  geometrical 
faculty,  and  who  are  warranted  in  that  persuasion  by  a  body  of  con- 
firmations independent  of  their  own  esteem,  and  yet  who  are  per- 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  621 

plexed  and  mystified  as  they  study  to  understand  the  non-Euclidean 
doctrines.  So  I  judged  it  to  be  eminently  conducive  to  my  purpose 
to  exemplify  in  my  article  the  manner  and  fashion  after  which  such 
minds  as  mine  are  apt  to  conceive  and  deal  with  the  elements  of 
geometry.  I  hoped  that  my  gropings  would  more  or  less  reveal  to  the 
non-Euclideans  the  matter  or  matters  at  fault  in  my  class  of  minds, 
and  that  some  one  or  more  of  them  would  take  the  pains  to  so  ex- 
plain their  doctrine  as  to  put  it  within  our  compass. 

I  am  a  little  surprised  to  observe  that  some  of  my  critics  pre- 
sume a  hierarchy  in  the  domain  of  mathematics  and  would  have 
the  truths  of  geometry  and  the  issues  arising  therein  depend  upon  the 
authority  of  that  hierarchy.  Now  while  I  am  in  no  wise  indisposed 
to  defer  largely  to  such  an  authority,  I  must  protest  that  any  blind 
subjection  would  outrage  the  crowning  honor  of  mathematics,  viz., 
that,  unique  among  the  sciences  in  that  regard,  it  asks  absolutely 
nothing  on  the  ground  of  authority  but  appeals  solely  to  insight 
and  reason.  Geometry,  especially,  walks  by  sight  and  not  by  faith. 

Besides,  the  matters  I  agitate  pertain  to  the  very  elements  of 
geometry,  and  as  to  these  how  is  it  that  the  professional  expert  has, 
on  account  merely  of  his  professional  expertness,  so  much  the  ad- 
vantage of  the  amateur?  Of  course  professional  expertness  is  an 
index  of  intellectual  quality,  but  if  other  things  be  equal  (an  im- 
portant condition  truly)  how  is  the  professional  expert  better  fitted 
to  see  more  lucidly  in  dealing  with  the  elements  of  geometry  than 
any  other  person  of  good  geometric  faculty? 

Since  all  of  my  professional  critics  have  gone  at  once  at  that 
discourse  of  mine  concerning  the  right-angled  isosceles  triangle 
I  take  it  that  my  doctrine  in  that  point  is  regarded  as  conspicuously 
vulnerable.  I  said  in  my  article,  "The  proof  that  the  two  secondary 
triangles  are  exactly  equal  to  one  another,  that  they  are  right-angled 
and  isosceles,  and  that  the  four  tertiary  triangles  are  in  all  respects 
precisely  in  the  same  case,  is  so  simple  in  more  than  one  way  that 
it  would  be  almost  an  imputation  upon  the  reader  to  spread  it  be- 
fore him."  In  saying  this  I  was  guilty  of  a  mortifying  inadvertance 
and  of  an  unwarrantable  presumption.  Still,  unless  I  am  very,  very 
sadly  mistaken,  the  doctrine  I  laid  down  is  quite  sound  and  can 
be  geometrically  proved.  So  as  a  further  exemplification  of  the 
geometrical  inveteracies  of  such  minds  as  mine  I  will  now  spread 
before  the  reader  in  detail  what  seems  to  me  to  be  good  geometrical 
proof  of  my  proposition. 

Consider  and  refer  to  the  following  figure. 


622 


THE  MONIST. 


Here  are  three  quadrilateral  figures  ABED,  a(3t8  and  HMEN. 
They  are  really  squares,  but  as  yet  we  do  not  know  that  and  so  we 
will  for  the  present  call  them  even  rhombs.  (The  word  "even"  will 
get  its  justification  in  due  course.)  ABED  we  will  call  the  outer 
even  rhombus,  apeS  the  inner  even  rhombus  and  HMEN  the  corner 
even  rhombus.  a/3e<5  and  HMEN  are  equal  as  we  shall  see.  Each 
rhombus  has  two  sets  of  triangles,  for  example,  in  the  outer  even 
rhombus  ABED  such  triangles  as  ABE,  BED,  etc.,  to  be  called  here 
its  major  triangles,  and  such  triangles  as  AyB,  ByE,  etc.,  to  be  called 
here  its  minor  triangles.  So  far  all  is  loose  preliminary,  intended 
only  as  an  aid  in  understanding  the  language  I  use. 

The  figure  is  constructed  as  follows: 

Draw  the  straight  line  AaHyeE  and  the  straight  line  B/?y8D 
so  that  they  intersect  one  another  at  y  at  right  angles.  Take  the 

M  c 


H 


points  a,  (3,  c  and  8  so  that  any  one  of  the  intervals  ya,  y/3,  yc  and  y8 
shall  be  equal  to  any  other  of  them.  Join  a  and  /?,  a  and  8,  c  and  /8, 
and  c  and  8,  by  right  lines.  The  four  minor  triangles  ayp,  ay8,  ey/? 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  623 

and  ey8  are  made.  Since  any  and  every  one  of  these  triangles  have 
been  made  right-angled  and  equal-sided  about  the  right  angle  and 
any  one  side  equal  with  any  other,  any  one  of  the  triangles  is  equal 
to  any  other  of  them,  and  hence  any  one  of  the  sides  a/?,  a8,  e/3  and 
ۤ  is  equal  to  any  other  of  them.  Furthermore  on  account  of  the 
equality  and  isosceles  nature  of  these  (minor)  triangles  any  one 
of  the  eight  angles  a0y,  /?ey,  e8y,  Say,  a8y,  8cy,  e/?y  and  /Jay  is  equal 
to  any  other  of  them.  Since  we  do  not  as  yet  know  how  these  an- 
gles last  mentioned  compare  with  the  right  angle,  and  since  it  will 
be  necessary  to  have  immediately  a  name  for  them  we  will  for  the 
present  call  such  angles  u-angles.  These  w-angles  are  not  in  any 
wise  indeterminate.  They  are  just  as  determinate  as  is  the  right 
angle,  and  they  might  be  defined  as  being  such  angles  as  the  sides 
of  an  isosceles  right-angled  triangle  make  with  the  hypotenuse. 
Only  it  is  not  yet  determined  how  they  compare  with  the  right  angle. 

The  angles  a/?e,  a8e,  /?e8  and  /3a8  being  each  and  every  one  of 
them  composed  of  two  u-angles,  are,  on  that  account,  as  yet  un- 
determined in  their  relations  to  the  right  angle,  but  they  are  inde- 
terminate in  no  other  respect.  We  will  for  the  present  call  such 
angles  w-angles.  Any  one  of  them  is  equal  to  any  other  of  them. 
The  four  major  triangles  of  the  inner  even  rhombus,  a/?8,  c/?8,  a/3c 
and  aSe,  being  each  w-angles  between  pairs  of  equal  sides,  any  one 
of  which  sides  is  equal  to  any  other  of  them,  are  any  one  of  such 
triangles  equal  to  any  other  of  them.  The  thoroughgoing  evenness 
of  the  inner  rhombus  should  now,  I  think,  be  abundantly  manifest. 

Now  take  A  and  E  on  the  line  AaHycE  and  B  and  D  on  the 
line  B/?y8D  so  that  any  one  of  the  intervals  yA,  yB,  yE  and  yD 
shall  be  equal  to  either  one  of  the  (equal)  sides  of  the  inner  even 
rhombus.  Join  A  and  B,  A  and  D,  E  and  B  and  E  and  D  with 
right  lines.  Then  there  will  be  made  an  outer  even  rhombus  with 
minor  triangles,  the  sides  of  the  rhombus,  the  angles  of  the  minor 
triangles,  the  corner  angles  of  the  rhombus,  the  major  triangles,  etc., 
all  equal  homologously  as  in  the  inner  even  rhombus,  such  angles  as 
ABD,  BAE,  etc.,  being  w-angles  and  such  angles  as  ABE,  BED,  etc., 
being  w-angles. 

Now  take  on  BE  the  point  M  so  that  the  interval  EM  shall 
equal  the  interval  Ey  (or  the  equal  interval  /?c,  or  etc.)  and  take  on 
ED  the  point  N  so  that  the  interval  EN  shall  equal  the  same  interval 
as  above  prescribed  for  the  interval  EM.  Take  on  the  line  AaHyeE 
the  point  H  so  that  the  interval  EH  shall  equal  the  interval  BE 


624  THE  MONIST. 

(or  the  equal  interval  AB  or  etc.).  Join  M  and  N,  M  and  H,  M  and 
y,  N  and  y,  and  N  and  H  with  straight  lines. 

Now  pursuant  to  Euclid  I-V,  MH  equals  By  which  equals  Ey, 
either  being  equal  to  fit  (or  etc.)  which  equals  ME  which  equals 
EN  (or  etc.),  and  pursuant  to  the  same  Euclidean  theorem,  NH 
equals  Dy  which  equals  By,  etc.,  so  that  MH  equals  NH  and  so  that 
any  one  of  the  four  sides,  MH,  NH,  ME  and  NE,  is  equal  to  any 
one  of  the  others.  Now  the  angle  MEN  being  a  w-angle  equals 
the  angle  /?e8,  while  the  sides  of  the  triangle  MEN,  viz.,  ME  and 
NE,  are  both  equal  to  each  other  and  either  side  equal  to  either  side 
of  the  triangle  /?e8.  Hence  the  two  triangles  MEN  and  /JeS  are 
equal.  But  the  triangle  NHM  equals  the  triangle  MEN  (three- 
sides  equal).  Now  the  angles  MHN  and  MEN  have  heen  shown 
to  be  both  w-angles,  and  since  the  triangle  MEN  is  equal  to  the 
triangle  /?e8  it  is  further  shown  that  the  angle  EMN  which  cor- 
responds to  the  angle  ef38  (or  etc.)  is  a  w-angle  and  that  the  angle 
ENM  is  also  a  w-angle  is  shown  by  a  precisely  like  argument.  But 
since  the  triangles  EMN  and  HMN  are  equal,  the  angles  HMN  and 
HNM  are  also  w-angles,  so  that  the  angles  HME  and  HNE  are 
shown  to  be  zf -angles.  Now  the  triangles  a/3e  and  HME  have  the 
angles  a/3c  and  HME  equal  to  one  another  (both  being  wrangles), 
which  angles  are  in  either  triangle  included  between  a  pair  of  sides 
equal  to  each  other  and  equal  any  one  such  side  in  either  triangle 
to  any  such  side  in  the  other  triangle.  Hence  the  two  triangles 
are  equal  and  the  side  ac  is  equal  to  the  side  HE  which  was  made 
equal  to  the  side  BE  of  the  outer  even  rhombus.  But  it  has  just 
been  shown  that  in  the  triangle  a(3t  the  side  ac  is  equal  to  the  side 
BE  of  the  triangle  ByE,  and  it  was  heretofore  shown  that  the  side 
By  (or  Ey)  was  equal  to  the  side  /?€  (or  f3a).  Hence  the  triangle 
ajSc  is  equal  to  the  triangle  ByE  and  the  angle  aft*  homologous  to  the 
angle  ByE  is  equal  to  the  same.  But  ByE  is  a  right  angle.  Hence 
the  until  now  named  w-angle  a/?c  is  now  shown  to  be  no  other  than  a 
right  angle,  and  its  half,  the  until  now  called  w-angle,  is  shown  to 
be  precisely  half  of  a  right  angle. 

The  rest  now  goes  almost  of  itself.  In  a  right-angled  isosceles 
triangle  the  acute  angles  are  half  right  angles  and  equal  to  either 
one  of  the  sections  of  the  bisected  right  angle  of  the  triangle.  Hence 
in  such  a  right-angled  isosceles  triangle  the  line  from  the  vertex  of 
the  right  angle  to  the  mid  point  of  the  hypotenuse  divides  the  pri- 
mary triangle  into  two  equal  isosceles  right-angled  triangles,  and  the 
bisecting  line  is  precisely  one-half  of  the  hypotenuse.  Of  course  if 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  625 

the  above  argument  is  sound  the  angle-sum  of  the  right-angled 
isosceles  triangles,  at  least,  is  precisely  two  right  angles.  If  this 
is  true  I  suppose  it  to  be  not  very  difficult  to  prove  first  that  the 
angle-sum  of  any  right-angled  triangle  is  the  same,  and  then  that 
the  angle-sum  of  any  triangle  is  the  same.  There  is  very  possibly 
some  flaw  in  my  course  of  argument.  I  can  only  say  that  up  to 
the  present  time  I  have  not  been  able  to  detect  it. 

It  is  objected  against  my  remarks  on  the  system  of  Lobatchevsky 
beginning  about  the  middle  of  page  301,  Vol.  XIX  of  The  Monist 
(April,  1909  number)  that  I  have  ignored  the  fact  that  Lobat- 
chevsky distinguishes  between  sides  in  parallelism  and  that  the  state- 
ment of  his  Theorem  25  ought  to  be  glossed  by  inserting  the  words 
"on  the  same  side"  in  about  the  middle  of  that  statement.  Some  of 
my  critics  make  this  gloss  in  their  statement  of  said  theorem.  I 
avow  that  I  honestly  thought  that  the  omission  of  the  condition  was 
deliberately  designed  by  Lobatchevsky,  for  it  seems  to  me  that  the 
reason  of  the  matter  justified  the  omission.  Let  us  see.  Loba- 
tchevsky says  in  effect  (Theorem  16 — [Monist,  Vol.  XIX,  pp.  291- 
292] )  that  in  the  uncertainty  that  obtains  whether  there  may  not 
be  other  lines  than  the  perpendicular  AE  that  do  not  cut  DC,  he  will 
assume  that  such  lines  are  possible,  in  plurality.  The  boundary  line 
of  such  lines  he  takes  as  his  parallel  and,  of  course,  makes  it  make 
the  angle  n(/>)  an  angle  less  than  a  right  angle.  This  leads  him  to 
remark  that  on  the  assumption  he  makes  there  will  be  two  lines 
through  the  same  point  both  parallel  to  the  BDC  line.  This  is  his 
distinction  of  sides  in  parallelism,  and  it  goes  no  further.  As  to 
such  an  idea  as  that  two  lines  may  be  parallel  if  they  are  taken  in 
the  same  sense,  and  yet  not  parallel  if  taken  in  opposite  senses,  I 
fail  to  find  any  vestige  of  it  in  Lobatchevsky's  text.  That  would 
be  to  make  Lobatchevsky's  system  a  system  of  vectors  instead  of  a 
geometry,  and  I  am  sure  such  a  system  as  well  as  the  idea  of  a 
sensed  relation  would  put  me  to  permanent  intellectual  confusion, 
should  I  endeavor  to  find  any  sense  in  either  of  them. 

But  Lobatchevsky,  in  his  Theorem  17,  stated  thus,  "A  straight 
line  maintains  the  characteristic  of  parallelism  at  all  its  points," 
shows  by  his  figure  and  demonstration  that  he  had  plainly  in  mind 
that  a  parallel  was  parallel  as  well  on  the  other  side  of  the  II  (p) 
line  as  on  the  one  side.  So  I  fail  to  see  how  my  figure  on  page  301, 
April  1909,  Monist,  and  my  remarks  in  connection  therewith  ignore 
or  violate  any  of  the  principles  laid  down  by  Lobatchevsky.  I  did 
not  aver  that  he  drew  the  consequences  that  I  did.  I  plainly  started 


626  THE  MONIST. 

out  with  the  remark,  "But  it  is  time  to  search  for  results  ourselves," 
and  it  seems  to  me  that  I  showed  that  the  principles  of  Lobatchevsky 
lead  to  contradiction.  At  any  rate,  I  cannot  see  how  the  distinction 
of  sides  in  parallelism  avoids  the  consequences  I  drew.  It  is  true 
enough  that  Lobatchevsky,  keeping  (with  the  single  exception  I 
have  mentioned)  always  on  one  side  of  the  TL(p)  line,  falls  into  no 
contradiction.  With  a  parallel  differing  only  infinitesimally  from 
the  ordinary  parallel,  and  keeping  always  on  the  same  side  of  the 
!!(/>)  line,  how  could  he  fall  into  contradiction?  It  may  be  noticed 
in  passing  that  Lobatchevsky  makes  nothing  whatever  turn  upon 
any  of  the  assumed  plurality  of  lines  that  lie  between  his  parallel 
and  the  perpendicular  AE.  It  is  probably  of  no  consequence  unless 
for  the  notice  it  gives  us  that  so  far  as  the  system  of  Lobatchevsky 
is  concerned  there  are  no  lines  on  the  same  side  that  pass  through 
A  that  are  of  any  consequence  except  the  perpendicular  AE  and  the 
parallel  AH,  the  latter  differing  from  AE  by  only  an  infinitesimal 
shade. 

I  cannot  admit  that  my  definitions  of  the  straight  line  and  the 
plane  are  amplifications  of  definitions  previously  published  in  Pro- 
fessor Halsted's  Rational  Geometry.  Had  I  so  esteemed  them  or 
either  of  them,  I  should  not  have  published  them  as  my  own.  It 
would  be  quite  idle,  however,  for  us  two  to  dispute  over  the  matter. 
We  are  both  on  record  and  whoever  feels  interest  enough  in  the  issue 
to  inquire  will  decide  irrespective  of  any  clamor  of  ours.  I  may 
say,  however,  that  definitions  are  a  matter  of  words,  apt  for  the 
publication  of  enough  of  the  proper  marks  of  the  thing  defined  to 
make  fully  determinate  all  the  other  proper  marks  without  making 
any  use  of  the  thing  defined  either  expressly  or  by  implication.  I 
do  not,  as  does  Professor  Halsted,  make  the  straight  line  and  the 
plane  "aggregates  of  points."  True,  in  leading  up  to  my  definition 
I  make  use  of  triads  and  aggregates  of  points.  But  when  all  is 
ready  I  drop  those  ideas  and  define  a  straight  line  as  a  certain  kind 
of  a  line,  and  a  plane  as  a  certain  kind  of  a  surface,  neither  of  which 
would  I  think  of  defining  as  an  aggregate  of  points.  As  a  matter  of 
fact  much  of  my  method  in  geometry  is  the  result  of  a  practical 
business  with  linkages.  Almost  any  one  can  see  that  my  straight 
range  is  a  virtual  though  mechanically  unrealizable  linkage.  I  may 
say  that  I  have  a  linkage  of  thirty-seven  links,  any  link  of  which  is 
identical  with  any  other  link,  with  which  linkage  with  two  points 
fixed  I  can  by  continuous  motion  draw  a  limited  straight  line  (in 
fact  two)  in  line  with  the  two  fixed  points.  But  this  linkage  did  not 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  627 

reveal  the  essence  of  the  straightness  of  the  straight  line,  as  did  the 
straight  range.  The  latter  is  three-dimensional.  The  former  only 
planar. 

If  it  be  asked  what  use  can  be  made  of  my  definition  of  the 
straight  line,  I  can  only  say  that  I  have  not  as  yet  found  it  of  as 
much  use  in  elementary  geometry  as  I  had  anticipated.  I  can  say, 
however,  that  it  follows  quite  readily  from  the  definition  that  two- 
intersecting  straight  lines  can  have  only  the  intersecting  point  in 
common,  and  quite  as  readily  that  the  straight  line  cannot  return 
into  itself;  that  is  to  say,  that  the  straight  line  is  infinite,  a  result 
which  alone  would  sadly  mar  the  symmetry  of  the  non-Euclidean 
system. 

CHICAGO,  ILL.  FRANCIS  C.  RUSSELL. 


AN  OPEN  LETTER. 

To  the  Editor  of  The  Monist: 

It  was  with  great  interest  that  I  read  your  reply,  in  The  Monist 
for  July,  to  my  article  entitled  "A  Biochemical  Conception  of  the 
Phenomena  of  Memory  and  Sensation"  which  appeared  in  the  same 
number.  It  is  not  my  intention  to  attempt  anything  approaching  an 
exhaustive  critique  of  the  philosophical  position  which  you  assume, 
— an  attempt  which,  as  some  four  thousand  years  of  sterile  discus- 
sion have  demonstrated,  would  be  entirely  useless.  I  am  never- 
theless constrained  to  draw  your  attention  to  certain  points  in  which 
I  am  of  the  opinion  that  you  have  not  represented  my  position,  and 
that  of  a  number  of  scientific  colleagues,  with  that  fairness  which, 
I  believe,  we  have  a  right  to  expect  from  the  editor  of  a  journal 
"Devoted  to  the  Philosophy  of  Science."  Since  a  charge  of  mis- 
representation affects  not  only  the  accused,  but  also  his  readers,  I 
have  taken  the  liberty,  Sir,  of  addressing  you  in  the  time-honored 
form  of  an  "open  letter." 

In  the  first  place,  Sir,  I  must  take  exception  to  the  style  in  which 
you  have  expressed  yourself  concerning  my  formulation  of  my  hypoth- 
esis of  memory  in  mathematical  terms,  and  in  which  you  have  alluded 
to  Professor  Loeb's  term  "associative  hysteresis,"  which  he  has 
proposed  to  substitute,  in  scientific  literature,  for  the  popular  term 
"memory."  I  know  that  any  suggestion  that  the  mathematical  or 
scientific  author  is  seeking  to  "impress"  or  mystify  his  readers  by 
the  use  of  mathematical  symbols  or  of  scientific  terms  is  welcomed 
by  that  type  of  general  reader,  who,  with  the  common  dislike  of 


628  THE  MONIST. 

humanity  for  concentrated  and  specialized  effort  of  any  description, 
is  angered  by  the  suggestion,  which  such  terminology  conveys  to 
him,  that  there  are  problems  which  cannot  be  solved  off-hand  by 
virtue  of  a  superficial  acquaintance  with  the  semi-popular  literature 
of  the  subject, — that  there  are  intellectual  goals  which  cannot  be 
won  without  effort, — or,  to  return  to  the  instance  in  hand,  that  the 
recondite  problems  of  brain-physiology,  or,  as  you  prefer  to  term 
it,  psychology,  cannot  be  solved  by  one  who  has  not  at  least  that 
degree  of  technical  knowledge  of  the  subject  in  hand  which  is  re- 
quired by  the  Artisan  who  would  construct  a  steam  engine.  I  rec- 
ognize, I  say,  the  literary  effectiveness  of  your  mode  of  expression, 
— but  I  deny  its  legitimacy.  Your  appeal  to  prejudice  is  unworthy 
of  you,  Sir. 

But  to  return  to  questions  less  personal  than  that  of  controversial 
style. — On  page  390  of  your  article  you  state  your  hypothesis  of 
parallelism  as  follows:  "There  are  not  two  separate  factors,  the 
psychological  and  the  physiological,  running  parallel  to  each  other, 
but  there  is  one  reality  which  has  two  aspects, — the  one  being  the 
internal  or  subjective,  the  other  the  external  or  objective.  The  two 
are  as  inseparable  and  yet  different  as  the  internal  and  external 
curves  of  a  circle."  If  I  recollect  my  Euclid  aright,  a  circle  is  a 
line  which  is  without  breadth,  so  that  the  internal  and  external 
curves  are  coincident  and  identical.  Doubtless  you  will  reply  to 
this  that  I  am  pushing  a  material  analogy  to  the  extreme, — that  I 
am  taking  advantage  of  an  unavoidable  imperfection  of  illustration. 
But  I  too  am  employing  analogy,  and  my  illustration  of  the  diffi- 
culty which  attaches  to  your  theory  is  more  pertinent  than  it  may 
at  first  sight  appear.  What,  I  inquire,  is  the  "one  reality"  to  which 
you  refer?  In  what  does  it  differ  from  the  "substance"  of  Spinoza? 
In  what  do  the  "two  aspects"  of  the  "one  reality"  differ  from  his 
"attributes"?  Are  they  not  merely  the  expression  of  that  disparity 
between  the  extent  of  our  "internal  information"  concerning  our 
own  cerebral  states,  and  that  of  our  information  concerning  the 
cerebral  states  of  others,  upon  the  origin  of  which  I  have  dwelt  in 
my  article?  To  pursue  our  analogy  further, — is  there  any  space 
which  separates  the  internal  from  the  external  curves  of  the  circle, 
— and,  if  so,  what  is  its  content?  I  will  refrain,  however,  from 
pursuing  the  metaphysical  side  of  our  discussion  further, — meta- 
physical beliefs  are  so  essentially  temperamental  in  origin  that  the 
only  logical  end  to  such  discussion,  between  courteous  controver- 
sialists, is  agreement  to  differ. 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  629 

Your  reminder  that  Professor  Haeckel  employed  the  expres- 
sion ''gaseous  vertebrate"  in  reference  to  the  anthropomorphic  con- 
ception of  the  deity  and  not  in  reference  to  the  dualistic  concep- 
tion of  the  sonl  was  not,  perhaps,  wholly  necessary.  Professor 
Haeckel's  works  are  well  known  and  widely  read,  and  it  may  be 
presumed  that  a  writer  does  not  quote  such  an  expression  without 
being  perfectly  aware  of  the  connection  in  which  it  was  employed 
by  its  author.  Yet  my  extension  of  the  phrase  to  include  the  dual- 
istic conception  of  the  soul  is  not,  I  venture  to  affirm,  so  inapt  as 
you  would  appear  to  believe.  I  grant  that  the  philosophers  them- 
selves have,  perhaps,  never  represented  the  soul  in  this  manner, — 
but  then  it  is  universally  admitted  that  philosophers  are  men  of 
exceptional  intelligence.  Would  you  seriously  seek  to  deny  that 
the  dnalistic  conception  of  the  soul,  which  is  held  by  the  rank-and- 
file  of  the  uneducated  and  of  the  cultured  alike,  is  not  that  of  a 
"gaseous  vertebrate,  immanent  within  but  independent  of  the  ma- 
terial organism"?  How,  then,  would  you  account  for  the  belief  in 
ghosts, — so  generally  denied,  so  universally  entertained, — for  the 
success  of  its  fashionable  expression, — the  spiritualistic  seance? 

I  am,  however,  constrained  to  call  you  to  account  for  yet  an- 
other and  a  more  serious  misrepresentation.  On  page  396  of  your 
article  you  state  that:  "In  spite  of  the  merits  of  Professor  Loeb 
especially  in  the  line  of  physiological  experiments,  in  which  spe- 
cialty he  has  distinguished  himself,  we  can  not  see  that  psychol- 
ogy would  be  helped  by  calling  some  definite  reactions  which  take 
place  under  some  definite  conditions  'tropisms/  We  do  not  gain 
a  scientific  comprehension  of  these  transactions  until  we  gain  an 
insight  into  the  mechanism  which  upon  a  definite  irritation  causes 
organized  life  to  move  in  a  special  direction  and  in  a  special  way." 
While  I,  in  common,  I  believe,  with  all  my  biological  colleagues, 
heartily  endorse  the  second  of  the  above  two  sentences,  it  is  possible 
that  I  share  with  a  number  of  your  readers  an  inability  to  perceive 
the  precise  connection  between  the  two  sentences, — or,  I  may  men- 
tion in  passing,  the  exact  nature  of  the  part  played  by  "the  merits 
of  Professor  Loeb"  in  the  question  under  discussion.  Do  you 
really  suppose,  Sir,  as  your  statement  would  appear  to  imply,  that 
the  term  "tropism"  is  nothing  other  than  a  name  employed  by  Pro- 
fessor Loeb  to  conceal  lack  of  "a  scientific  comprehension  of  these 
transactions"?  Since  it  is  impossible  to  suppose  that  this  implica- 
tion is  a  deliberate  attempt  to  misrepresent,  one  can  only  conclude 
that  you  are  either  unacquainted  with  the  literature  on  the  subject 


630  THE  MONIST. 

of  Tropisms,  or  else  that  you  have  utterly  failed  to  grasp  the  sig- 
nificance of  the  evidence  presented  therein.  True,  the  evidence 
is  as  yet,  in  the  main,  of  a  qualitative  rather  than  of  a  quantitative 
character, — but  we  learn  from  your  article  that  the  "notion  of  qual- 
ity" is  "tolerated"  by  you,  and  this  fact  should  therefore  not  deter 
you  from  perceiving  that  the  investigations  which  have  been  carried 
out  by  Loeb  and  his  pupils  have  at  least  carried  us  some  way 
towards  "an  insight  into  the  mechanism  which  upon  a  definite  irrita- 
tion causes  organized  life  to  move  in  a  special  direction  and  in  a 
special  way"; — that  they  have  shown  that  these  movements  can  be 
controlled  by  physical  and  chemical  means  and  are  therefore,  in  all 
probability,  the  expression  of  physical  and  chemical  occurrences  within 
the  organisms ;  and,  finally,  that  they  have  shown  that  many  of  the 
more  complex  reactions  which  we  term  "instincts"  are  analysable 
into  simpler  elements  which  are  tropisms,  i.  e.,  controllable  by  phys- 
ical and  chemical  means.  If,  indeed,  you  do  not  perceive  in  Loeb's 
theory  of  tropisms  anything  other  than  an  empty  nominalism, — it 
is  regrettable,  but  it  does  not  deprive  the  theory  of  its  value,  even 
in  the  exclusive  domain  of  psychology.  You  will  recollect  Words- 
worth's character  of  whom  it  is  said: 

"A  primrose  by  the  river's  brim 
A  yellow  primrose  was  to  him, 
And  it  was  nothing  more." 

It  is  usually  conceded  that  these  words  were  not  intended  to  imply 
default  on  the  part  of  the  primrose, — I  leave  the  further  pursuance 
of  the  analogy  to  you,  Sir. 

Abandoning,  however,  the  language  of  metaphor  (although, 
Sir,  in  view  of  your  artistic  reference  to  the  Sistine  Madonna,  I 
may  be  pardoned  my  short  excursion  into  the  realm  of  poesy),  and 
returning  to  the  more  prosaic  vocabulary  of  scientific  discussion, 
I  venture  to  insist  that  a  statement  of  a  theory  is  not,  in  itself, 
adequate  evidence  of  its  validity.  It  is  a  simple  matter  to  propound 
theories,  Sir,  but  it  is  quite  another  matter  to  apply  to  them  the  test 
of  fact, — indeed  it  is  for  this  reason  that  philosophies  and  religions 
are  so  incomparably  more  popular  than  science. 

In  objecting  to  a  theory  which  is  supported  by  experimental 
evidence  the  burden  of  proof  is  thrown  upon  the  objector, — he  is 
expected,  in  scientific  discussion,  to  demonstrate  that  the  theory  to 
which  he  takes  exception  is  insufficient,  and,  if  at  the  same  time  he 
advances  a  theory  of  his  own,  to  demonstrate,  not  only  that  his 
theory  is  sufficient  where  the  other  is  insufficient,  but  that  it  is  also 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  63! 

in  agreement  with  the  facts  upon  which  the  opposing  theory  was 
based.  In  your  article  I  find  a  statement  of  a  theory  of  memory, 
which  regards  this  phenomenon  as  an  expression  of  "the  preserva- 
tion of  living  forms,"  and  I  find  it  stated  that  my  theory  of  memory 
is  inadequate.  Yet  I  am  unable  to  ascertain  from  your  article  what 
are  the  facts  with  which  you  support  these  statements.  I  find,  in 
your  article,  statements  based  upon  statements,  and  I  find  hypotheses 
evolved  from  preconceptions,  but  I  do  not  find  statements  based 
upon  facts. 

Finally,  Sir,  I  may  be  permitted  to  draw  attention  to  the  mis- 
leading nature  of  your  dictum  that  "Professor  Robertson's  reduc- 
tion of  this  statement  to  a  mathematical  formula,  log  n  =  Kr  +  b, 
where  n  is  the  number  of  syllables  memorized,  r  the  number  of 
repetitions,  and  K  and  b  are  constants, ....  adds  nothing  to  the  ex- 
planation of  the  phenomenon  itself."  While  it  is  perfectly  true 
that  the  mathematical  formulation  of  an  hypothesis  adds  nothing 
whatever  to  the  content  of  the  hypothesis,  yet  when  that  mathe- 
matical formulation  is  applied  to  quantitative  measurements,  and  the 
identity  between  the  demands  of  theory  and  the  facts  of  experiment 
is  established,  then  much  is  added  to  the  "explanation  of  the  phe- 
nomenon itself,"  for  the  validity  of  the  hypothesis  is  rendered  pro- 
portionately the  more  probable.  Quantitative  evidence  differs  in  no 
respect  from  qualitative  evidence,  save  in  the  fact  that  the  qualities 
compared  are  expressed  in  numerical  units ;  but  since  the  acquisition 
of  qualitative  must  necessarily  precede  that  of  quantitative  evidence, 
our  knowledge  of  a  phenomenon  is  the  more  complete  the  more  it 
assumes  a  quantitative  character. 

T.  BRAILSFORD  ROBERTSON. 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 


DR.  EDMUND  MONTGOMERY. 

Dr.  Montgomery  is  a  unique  figure  in  the  philosophical  world. 
Having  been  a  prominent  member  of  the  Concord  School,  he  belongs 
to  the  history  of  this  country,  though  he  has  contributed  voluminously 
to  the  periodicals  of  the  Old  World,  and  is  credited  with  having 
blazed  new  paths  into  biological  fields. 

By  descent,  Scotch ;  by  birth,  English ;  by  education,  German ; 
by  residence,  American,  Dr.  Montgomery's  life  has  been  more  than 
ordinarily  eventful;  yet  he  wrote  recently  in  response  to  a  request 
for  autobiographical  data :  "Long  ago  I  resolved  that  if  a  call  should 


632  THE  MONIST. 

come  during  my  lifetime  to  furnish  notes  concerning  my  personal 
history,  I  should  ask  permission  to  keep  silence  with  regard  to 
everything  not  directly  connected  with  my  work.  I  think  that  with 
the  exception  of  very  eventful  careers,  run  by  extraordinary  char- 
acters, it  is  inflicting  a  grievance  on  the  reading  public  in  these 
crowded  times  to  thrust  one's  personal  matters  upon  their  attention. 
It  would  not  greatly  disappoint  me  to  learn  that  my  name  and  per- 
sonalities would  not  long  be  remembered;  but  it  would  discourage 
me  to  learn  that  after  close  examination  my  biological  researches 
and  my  thoughts  proved  not  to  have  probed  deeper,  a  little  deeper 
than  hitherto,  the  secrets  of  life  and  nature." 

At  Frankfort  young  Montgomery  participated  enthusiastically  in 
the  German  Revolution  of  1848-9,  following  with  absorbing  interest 
the  parliamentary  discussions,  and  eventually  taking  active  part  in 
the  building  and  defense  of  the  barricades.  It  was  here,  too,  he 
experienced  struggles  with  the  problems  of  religion  which  drove  him 
almost  to  suicide.  Susbsequent  years  brought  him  into  intimate 
relations  with  many  of  the  world's  foremost  workers  in  science  and 
philosophy. 

While  on  the  Medical  Staff  of  St.  Thomas'  Hospital  in  London, 
and  in  consequence  of  a  dissecting  wound,  his  lungs  became  effected. 
Residence  in  a  milder  climate  seemed  imperative.  He  went,  there- 
fore, greatly  dejected,  to  Madeira.  There  his  medical  practice  in- 
creased overmuch,  and  placed  too  great  a  tax  upon  his  strength. 
Again  changing  residence,  he  went  to  the  Riviera  and  eventually  to 
Rome.  But  tiring  of  having  no  settled  home,  he  harkened  to  the 
call  of  the  new  world,  whither  friends,  similarly  afflicted  and  in- 
stigated with  the  same  ideals  had  preceded  him,  sending  back  most 
encouraging  reports.  In  the  year  1873  ne  purchased  the  Liendo 
Plantation  near  Hempstead,  Texas,  where  he  has  ever  since  lived, 
enjoying  until  lately  good  health,  and  devoting  himself  to  his  cher- 
ished biological  researches  and  philosophical  studies. 

His  wife  was  the  well-known  sculptor,  Elizabet  Ney,  whom  he 
first  met  in  his  school-days  at  Heidelberg,  and  whom  he  married 
at  Madeira  in  1863.  Together  they  shared  the  joys  and  sorrows 
of  life,  engaged  in  their  separate  fields  of  labor,  until  June  1907, 
when  the  artist-wife,  after  an  illness  of  about  one  month,  died  of 
heart  disease.  In  October  of  that  year  an  article  by  Mrs.  Bride 
Neill  Taylor  appeared  in  The  Open  Court  which  gives  a  detailed 
account  of  the  life  and  work  of  this  famous  artist,  and  is  accom- 
panied with  illustrations  of  her  most  notable  works  of  art. 


CRITICISMS  AND  DISCUSSIONS.  633 

Dr.  Montgomery  worked  out  his  philosophy  in  a  period  when 
metaphysician]  was  confronted  with  materialism,  and  no  middle 
ground  was  recognized.  Being  a  physician  by  profession,  and  hav- 
ing specialized  his  work  in  physiology,  Dr.  Montgomery  was  too 
much  of  a  naturalist  to  accept  the  idealistic  horn  of  the  dilemma, 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  he  was  too  well  acquainted  with  the  insuffi- 
ciencies of  naturalism  to  fall  a  prey  to  materialism.  So  he  steered 
a  middle  course  and  found  a  solution  of  the  world-riddle  in  "vital 
organization."  His  solution  consisted  in  pointing  out,  with  much 
attention  to  detail,  the  mystery  of  mysteries  which  is  the  wonderful 
activity  of  purpose-endowed  life  with  its  powers  of  choice  and  self- 
adaptation;  and  so  it  was  but  natural  that  his  whole  philosophy  is 
tinged  with  a  poetical  mysticism. 

The  matured  fruit  of  Dr.  Montgomery's  life  has  appeared  of 
late  in  a  stately  octavo  volume  of  462  pages,  entitled  Philosophical 
Problems  in  the  Light  of  Vital  Organisation,  and  we  deem  it  proper 
to  have  a  summary  of  the  work  presented  by  a  man  who,  for  more 
than  twenty  years,  has  been  an  ardent  admirer  of  the  Scotch-German- 
American  hermit-philosopher  of  Texas.  We  cannot  help  thinking 
that  Dr.  Montgomery's  solutions  of  the  several  problems  are  often 
unsatisfactory,  however  elegantly  they  may  be  worded.  They  dis- 
cuss, but  do  not  adequately  answer  the  questions  presented,  and 
sometimes  read  more  like  prose  poems  than  philosophy.  But  he 
assigned  himself  large  tasks,  tasks  that  involved  intellect  of  an  un- 
usual type — the  periscopic  sweep  of  the  pansophist  and  the  thorough- 
going patience  of  the  scientific  specialist.  In  magnis  voluisse  sat  est. 
So  Dr.  Montgomery  is  a  remarkable  figure,  and  as  we  do  not  mean 
to  restrict  the  pages  of  The  Monist  to  our  own  type  of  thinking,  we 
gladly  welcome  to  our  columns  a  presentation  of  Dr.  Montgomery's 
philosophy  of  "vital  organization."  EDITOR. 

MALAY  NOT  ACCEPTABLE. 

To  the  Editor  of  The  Monist: 

There  are  one  or  two  points  in  your  remarks  in  the  July  Monist 
where  in  my  opinion  you  seem  to  err.  You  consider  the  present 
situation  as  a  good  parallel  to  that  when  Volapuk  fell.  It  is  a  par- 
allel in  one  way,  but  a  counterpart  in  another.  The  Volapuk  reform- 
ers did  have  to  create  an  entirely  new  language,  on  a  basis  vastly 
different  from  Volapuk.  It  did,  of  course,  take  them  many  years 
to  bring  out  "Idiom  Neutral,"  and  in  the  meantime  they  could  not 
but  lose  the  great  public.  Now,  the  public  is  simply  invited  to  choose 


634  THE  MONIST. 

between  two  ready  made  dialects  which  are  so  similar  that  the  tran- 
sition can  be  made  after  an  hour's  study.  The  main  idea  is  that 
many  arbitrary  features  have  been  removed,  and  international  ones, 
known  to  everybody,  substituted.  Both  Ido  and  Esperanto  recog- 
nize exactly  the  same  principles,  theoretically.  In  one  sense  the 
strenuous  opposition  of  the  Esperantists  (which  is  much  more  vig- 
orous than  was  that  of  the  conservative  Volapukists)  is  a  good  sign, 
even  for  the  Idists.  It  proves  that  if  even  a  language  with  relatively 
large  imperfections  can  take  root  so  strongly  with  many,  Ido  will, 
after  it  has  overcome  this  resistance,  be  well-nigh  proof  against  all 
attacks  and  further  reform  attempts,  so  far  as  they  shall  concern 
more  than  trifles.  It  may  take  a  few  years  time  to  get  there;  but 
then  things  will  settle  down  to  a  state  of  great  relative  stability. 

As  to  Malay:  are  you  not  afraid  that  The  Monist  would  look 
a  little  queer  in  that  tongue  ?  Have  the  Idists  deserved  a  suggestion 
of  that  caliber,  or  are  you  in  earnest  in  imagining  that  the  European- 
American  world  would  be  inclined  to  relinquish  the  forms  of  thought 
that  have  come  to  them  in  two  thousand  or  more  years  of  history? 
You  said  something  at  a  time  about  "improving  living  languages," 
and  we  are  trying  to  present  the  quintessence  of  western  European 
speech,  with  everything  a  priori  strictly  excluded.  Between  modern 
English,  modern  Malay,  and  an  unheard-of  though  ingenious  pasig- 
raphy  you  seem  to  have  touched  several  of  the  possible  extremes ; 
what's  the  matter  with  a  scientifically  constructed  a  posteriori  tongue 
ay  a  compromise?  O.  H.  MAYER. 

EDITORIAL  REPLY. 

In  reply  to  Mr.  Mayer's  questions,  I  will  say  that  probably  the 
European-American  world  will  not  be  any  more  "inclined  to  relin- 
quish the  forms  of  thought  that  have  come  to  them  in  two  thousand 
or  more  years  of  history,"  for  the  sake  of  Malay  than  for  Esperanto 
or  Ido.  I  believe  that  they  will  simply  go  on  improving  their  own 
speech  and  world  language  will  thus  develop  in  the  natural  way. 
An  artificial  language  should  in  my  opinion  not  reject  the  a  priori 
elements,  but  on  the  contrary  should  be  based  on  them.  It  ought 
to  be  an  algebra  of  thought  constructed  a  priori,  and  the  a  posteriori 
meaning  ought  to  be  inserted  just  as  in  mathematics  algebraic  sym- 
bols whenever  applied  receive  a  definite  meaning.  Upon  the  whole 
we  may  leave  the  formation  of  an  international  language  to  its  fate 
and  watch  the  efforts  of  those  who  try  to  construct  it  artificially 
with  critical  sympathy. 


BOOK  REVIEWS  AND  NOTES. 

LETTERS  TO  CASSITE  KINGS  FROM  THE  TEMPLE  ARCHIVES  AT  NIPPUR.  By  Dr. 
Hugo  Radau,  Ph.  D.  Price  $6.00.  Royal  quarto ;  paper  covers. 

This  is  marked  Volume  XVII,  part  I,  of  the  Cuneiform  Texts  of  the 
Babylonian  Expedition  of  the  University  of  Pennsylvania ;  and  in  it  Dr.  Radau 
gives  us  190  pages  of  preliminary  discussion  and  notes,  and  80  beautifully  en- 
graved plates  and  photogravures  of  131  cuneiform  texts  from  the  archives  of 
the  temple  of  En-lil  at  Nippur  in  Babylonia. 

The  Cassite  dynasty  of  Babylonian  kings  reigned  for  nearly  600  years ; 
from  1814  to  1238  B.  C.  according  to  the  chronology  favored  by  Assyriologists. 
And  yet  their  exact  racial  origin  is  still  undetermined.  They  were  certainly 
neither  Sumerians  nor  Semites,  as  the  character  of  their  names  sufficiently 
indicates.  Their  especial  title  was  "King  of  Karduniash,"  a  name  that  still 
awaits  explanation.  The  most  likely  guess  identifies  them  with  the  Kossaeans 
of  the  Zagros  river,  while  their  original  home  was,  some  say,  in  Northern 
Elam,  and  others  even  suspect  Hittite  affiliations. 

But  although  Babylon  was  their  chief  and  capital  city,  yet  Nippur  was 
ever  their  favorite  residence;  and  the  official  title  which  they  most  greatly 
valued  was  that  of  shakkanakku  Enlil,  or  "Lord  Chancellor  of  the  god  Enlil." 
All  transactions  of  and  for  the  Temple  needed  their  seal  [kanaku]  to  be  legal, 
so  that  every  Cassite  ruler  was  also,  in  a  special  sense,  the  High-priest-king  of 
Nippur. 

Furthermore,  the  period  during  which  these  tablets  were  written,  namely 
1440  to  1320  B.  C.,  was  a  most  vital  epoch.  For  then,  for  the  first  time  so  far 
as  we  know,  Babylonia  came  into  communication  with  age-old  Egypt  on  the 
one  hand,  and  was  attacked,  on  the  other  hand,  by  the  newly  rising  power  of 
Assyria,  to  this  time  belonging  the  famous  Tel-el-Amarna  cuneiform  tab- 
lets of  Amenhotep  III  and  IV.  The  Berlin  museum  has  three  letters  of  the 
Cassite  Kadashman-Bel  to  Amenhotep  III ;  and  4  letters  of  Burnaburiash  II, 
the  son  of  Kadashman-Bel,  to  Amenhotep  IV  (the  heretical  Khu-en-Aten), 
the  son  of  Amenhotep  III,  while  the  British  Museum  has  a  cuneiform  tablet 
written  by  Amenhotep  III  to  Kadashman-Bel;  and  two  written  by  Burnabu- 
riash to  Khu-en-Aten. 

Then,  we  have  in  1421  B.  C.,  the  punitive  invasion  of  Babylonia  by  Asshur- 
uballit,  King  of  Assyria,  for  the  purpose  of  avenging  the  assassination  by  the 
rebellious  Cassites  of  their  king  Kara-Hardash  (or  Kadashman  Harbe),  the 
husband  of  Muballitat-Sherua,  the  Assyrian  King's  daughter;  and  of  seating 
upon  the  Babylonian  throne  Kuri-Galzu  II,  their  young  son  and  heir,  who  was 
the  Assyrian  King's  grandson,  the  temporary  Cassite  usurper  Nazi-Bugash 
being  either  driven  out  or  slain. 


636  THE  MONIST. 

This  is  the  first  evidence,  with  the  two  exceptions  yet  to  be  noted,  of  the 
existence  of  Assyria,  hitherto  apparently  a  mere  vassal  colony,  but  destined 
to  grow  ever  more  powerful  for  the  ensuing  800  years.  The  only  evidence  of 
any  earlier  contact  is  found,  first,  in  the  "Synchronistic  History"  from  Asshur- 
banipal's  library,  wherein  it  is  stated  that  nearly  nine  centuries  previous,  in 
1500  B.  C,  a  treaty  had  been  made  between  Asshur-bel-nishishu,  King  of 
Assyria,  and  Kara  indash,  the  "king  of  Karduniash" ;  this  latter  being  also  the 
as  yet  unexplained  title  employed  for  Cassite  rulers  in  the  letters  of  Amen- 
hotep  III  and  IV,  previously  noted. 

And  the  other  mention  of  Assyria  is  in  the  tablet,  also  noted  above,  in 
which  Burna-Buriash  writes  to  Amenhotep  IV,  warning  him  against  encour- 
aging in  their  plots  the  Assyrians,  "my  vassals." 

The  tablets  under  review,  however,  published  by  Dr.  Radau,  and  written, 
as  their  title  states,  to  and  not  by  Cassite  kings,  deal  with  no  such  lofty  themes 
as  international  history  or  diplomacy.  On  the  contrary  they  are  merely  busi- 
ness documents  from  the  Nippur  temple  archives,  many  of  them  nominally  or 
formally  addressed  to  the  sovereign,  as  the  titular  chancellor — while  practically 
they  are  merely  requisitions  for  urgently  needed  supplies  from  the  surly  and 
parsimonious  Head-Bursar  of  the  temple.  Other  letters,  again,  are  reports 
by  generals,  architects,  or  physicians  of  the  temple,  and  all  ranging  in  their 
dates  from  the  reign  of  Burna-buriash  II  (1440  B.  C)  to  that  of  Shagarakti- 
Shuriash  (1320  B.  C.)  and  Kashtiliashu  (1309  B.  C.) 

Extremely  useful  tables  of  the  masculine  and  feminine  names,  and  those 
of  places,  gods,  etc.,  etc.,  occurring  in  the  tablets,  close  Dr.  Radau's  introduc- 
tory text.  And  then  follow  the  80  finely  engraved  plates  and  photogravures, 
showing  in  all  131  inscriptions ;  so  that,  manifestly,  the  publication  is  designed, 
like  the  others  in  this  series,  not  for  the  general  reader,  but  rather  for  the 
student  and  expert  in  Sumerian  andAssyriology. 

And  to  such  a  one  Dr.  Radau's  exquisitely  clear  transcriptions  of  the  texts 
will  surely  be  of  the  utmost  value.  Those  who  have  at  any  time  endeavored, 
with  straining  eyes  and  befogged  brain,  to  identify — let  alone  coherently  read — 
even  a  few  of  the  signs  upon  one  of  these  overcrowded  and  wellnigh  illegible 
half-baked  or  unbaked  clay  tablets,  will  appreciate  to  the  full  the  vast  labor 
Dr.  Radau  has  undergone,  and  the  great  amount  of  eye-strain,  temper,  and 
time,  the  subsequent  student  is  spared. 

Indeed  in  the  tablets  themselves  we  have  an  amusing  illustration  of  their 
inherent  difficulties  and  obscurities  even  to  the  men  who  wrote  and  used  them, 
for  one  writer,  about  1370  B.  C.,  dejectedly  complains  that  he  had  requested 
"earthen  pots,"  but  his  correspondent  had  misread,  and  sent  him  "straw"  \ 

Now  if  an  old  Babylonian  of  33  centuries  ago  could  make  such  a  blunder 
in  his  own  script;  surely  we  alien  scholars  of  so  widely  different  a  race  and 
age,  can  be  pardoned  if  we  too  occasionally  err. 

In  closing  we  may  note  that  the  dates  for  the  Cassite  dynasty  adopted  by 
Dr.  Radau  and  Assyriologists  in  general,  are  earlier,  by  about  50  years  than 
those  favored  by  Egyptologists,  who  give  either  1383  to  1365  B.  C,  or  1377  to 
1361  B.  C.  as  the  date  of  Amenhotep  IV;  thus  making  Burna-buriash  II,  who 
was  his  contemporary  for  seven  years,  reign  from  about  1401  or  1395  to  1376 
or  1370  B.  C.,  in  place  of  1440  B.  C.,  as  preferred  by  Assyriologists. 

Dr.  Radau,  the  author,  Dr.  Hilprecht,  the  editor,  and  the  University  of 


BOOK  REVIEWS  AND  NOTES.  637 

Pennsylvania  are  all  to  be  warmly  congratulated  on  this  addition  to  their 
series.  For  it  will  be  an  enduring  monument  to  the  ripe  scholarship  of  Dr. 
Radau  and  of  his  mastery  of  the  exceedingly  difficult  script,  languages,  and 
history  of  early  Babylonia. 

ALAN  SPENCER  HAWKESWORTH. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  MEDIAEVAL  SCHOOL  OF  INDIAN  LOGIC.  By  Satis  Chandra 
Vidyabhusana.  Calcutta:  Calcutta  University,  1909.  Pp.  188. 

This  is  a  pioneer  work  in  so  far  as  the  author  has  scarcely  any  predeces- 
sors in  the  field  of  Indian  logic.  Buddhist  logic  has  been  treated  by  several 
scholars,  but  for  his  sources  of  the  Jaina  logic  he  has  to  fall  back  mainly  on 
unpublished  and  unedited  manuscripts  scattered  all  over  Western  India  and 
the  Deccan,  and  also  preserved  in  some  libraries.  The  book  would  have  been 
more  useful  to  Western  people  if  he  had  considered  the  general  ignorance  of 
Sanskrit  which  prevails  outside  of  India.  A  Western  reader  will  probably  be 
deterred  from  venturing  into  further  study  of  the  book  if  he  reads  the  first 
sentences:  "Logic  is  generally  designated  in  India  as  Nyaya-shastra.  It  is 
also  called  Tarka-shastra,  Hetu-vidya,  Pramana-shastra,  Anviksiki  and  Phak- 
kika-shastra."  (We  here  replace  in  this  quotation  the  accented  "s"  by  "sh.") 

Since  the  book  is  meant  for  Sanskrit  scholars  this  is  scarcely  a  drawback, 
but  we  would  suggest  to  the  author  if  in  a  future  edition  he  would  feel  the 
need  of  elaborating  his  work,  to  take  into  consideration  also  the  uninitiated 
who  are  willing  and  anxious  to  learn.  The  book  is  very  scholarly  and  is  a 
new  evidence  that  the  Hindu  race  has  worthy  representatives  who  are  well- 
trained  thinkers.  The  book  is  divided  into  two  parts:  (i)  The  Jaina  Logic, 
pages  i  to  55,  and  (2)  The  Buddhist  Logic,  pages  57  to  144.  Three  appendices 
contain  some  historical  notes  about  the  university  of  Nalanda  (about  300  to 
850  A.  D.),  and  the  Royal  University  of  Vikramasila  (about  800  to  1200  A.  D.) 


DIE  DREI  WELTEN  DER  ERKENNTNISTHEORIE.  Von  Dr.  Julius  Schultz.  Gottingen : 

Vandenhoeck  &  Ruprecht,  1907.  Pp.  104.  Price,  2.80  m. 
Dr.  Julius  Schultz  is  a  philosophical  author  who  writes  in  a  popular  and 
sprightly  style.  In  criticizing  the  views  of  others  he  employs  sometimes  the 
weapon  of  humor  without  however  yielding  to  malevolence.  He  points  out 
that  the  philosopher  starts  with  the  data  of  experience,  but  the  question  is, 
what  are  these  data?  The  logician  declares  that  thought  is  given;  the  sen- 
sualist, sensation;  and  the  empiricist,  the  naive  world-conception  of  man. 
Dr.  Schultz  shows  that  a  point  commonly  overlooked  is  the  question,  to  whom 
are  the  data  given;  for  the  same  object  may  be  different  to  different  observers. 
The  first  world  of  which  he  speaks  is  the  empirical  world,  which  has  to  be 
analyzed  through  the  forms  of  thought,  or  as  Kant  would  say,  the  categories. 
The  second  world  is  truth,  and  the  object  of  the  second  world,  matter.  The 
third  world,  when  trying  to  attain  to  ultimate  certitude,  is  not,  as  Descartes 
says,  cogito  or  the  "I  think,"  nor  is  it  as  his  critics  would  say,  cogitat,  an  im- 
personal thinking,  but  the  imperative  cogita.  The  last  certitude  is  the  content 
of  every  moment.  It  is  the  psychical  expansion  of  our  life,  or  as  Dr.  Schultz 
expresses  it  in  his  native  and  untranslatable  German,  das  Erlebnis  des  Er- 
lebens. 


638  THE  MONIST. 

Our  author  lacks  perhaps  the  method  of  a  trained  philosopher,  but  his 
mode  of  treatment  is  nevertheless  interesting  because  he  is  possessed  of  com- 
mon sense  and  is  entertaining  even  where  his  ultimate  thought  is  still  subject 
to  criticism. 


SEMITIC  MAGIC.  Its  Origin  and  Development.  By  R.  Campbell  Thompson. 
London:  Luzac,  1908.  Pp.  283.  Price,  i6s.  6d. 

This  volume  forms  a  very  interesting  contribution  to  Luzac's  Oriental 
Religions  Series.  The  theories  contained  in  it  are  based  on  a  most  careful 
study  of  the  development  of  demonology  in  Western  Asia  from  the  time  of  the 
cuneiform  incantation  tablets  through  the  periods  of  rabbinical  tradition,  Syriac 
monkish  writings  and  Arabic  tales  down  to  its  present  survival  in  modern 
Oriental  superstition.  Studied  in  connection  with  the  parallels  offered  by 
Aryan  and  Hamitic  notions,  these  superstitions  combine  to  throw  light  on  the 
origin  and  significance  of  many  of  the  peculiar  customs  of  the  Old  Testament. 
The  author  divides  his  subject  in  the  light  of  certain  deductions  gleaned  from 
a  particular  study  of  the  characteristics  of  the  evil  spirits  which  the  Semites 
believed  to  exist  everywhere.  These  deductions,  bearing  on  the  primitive  sys- 
tems of  tabu,  are  as  follows:  (i)  all  evil  spirits  could  inflict  bodily  hurt  on 
men;  (2)  the  relations  between  human  beings  and  either  evil  or  divine  spirits 
were  close  enough  to  allow  of  intermarriage;  (3)  from  this  belief  in  inter- 
marriage with  spirits  originated  the  sexual  tabus;  (4)  since  a  man  might 
suffer  from  an  unwitting  tabu  it  was  necessary  to  exorcise  the  demon  by  trans- 
ferring the  evil  influence  to  some  external  object;  (5)  from  this  idea  arose 
the  atonement  principle  and  idea  of  sin  offering;  (6)  from  this  stage  would 
naturally  arise  the  substitution  of  sacrificial  animals  for  the  first  born. 

The  book  is  furnished  with  a  careful  and  detailed  index,  followed  by  a 
list  of  Biblical  quotations. 

THE  BURMESE  AND  ARAKANESE  CALENDARS.     By  A.  M.  B.  Irwin.    Rangoon: 

Hanthawaddy  Printing  Works,  1909.  Pp.  92.  Price,  55.  net. 
This  book  serves  as  a  second  edition  to  "The  Burmese  Calendar,"  pub- 
lished in  1901,  but  the  author  states  in  his  preface  that  he  has  been  able  so  to 
complete  by  further  researches  his  former  work  that  he  is  fully  justified  in 
giving  it  a  new  title.  This  is  made  necessary  by  including  the  Arakanese 
calendar  together  with  the  Burmese.  The  book  is  carefully  prepared,  the 
author's  object  being  to  make  it  intelligible  and  useful  to  both  Europeans  and 
Burmans.  Mr.  Irwin  first  describes  the  calendars  as  they  are,  next  he  shows 
certain  errors  in  these  calendars  and  points  out  their  cause,  suggesting  also 
some  alterations.  The  last  part  of  the  book  consists  of  tables  by  the  aid  of 
which  English  dates  may  be  changed  into  Burmese  and  vice  versa.  Tables  1 
to  III  cover  a  period  of  262  years,  table  I  serving  for  past  years  and  the 
others  for  the  future.  Table  IX  supplies  the  means  for  changing  any  date 
within  these  years  from  one  calendar  to  the  other. 


HINDU  TALES.     Translated  by  John  Jacob  Meyer.     London:   Luzac  &  Co., 

1909.    Pp.  305.    Price,  8s.  6d. 

This  volume  is  an  English  translation  of  the  Ausgew'dhlte  Erzahlungen 
of  Jacobi,  to  whom  the  author  dedicates  his  work.    With  regard  to  the  interest 


BOOK  REVIEWS  AND  NOTES.  639 

of  the  stories  here  collected  the  translator  sums  them  up  in  his  preface  with 
the  following  criticism:  "The  first  story  in  the  following  collection  is  de- 
cidedly the  poorest — a  most  insipid  and  tiresome  performance.  The  tales  in- 
crease in  interest  as  we  go  along.  The  novella  of  Muladeva,  which  comes 
toward  the  end  of  the  book,  will  fascinate  many  a  reader.  From  the  literary 
and  from  some  other  points  of  view  the  best  of  all  these  selections  is  the  last 
— the  poem  of  Agadatta.  So  I  hope  the  general  reader  will  not  despair  when 
he  is  confronted  at  the  very  outset  by  that  wooden  statue  of  a  sensualist  called 
Bambhadatta.  The  student  will  find  much  valuable  matter  in  all  the  stories." 


ETUDES  SUR  LEONARD  DE  VINCI.    Par  Pierre  Duhem.    2.  ser.    Paris:  Hermann, 

1009.    Pp.  473,  Price,  15  fr. 

This  second  series  of  studies  on  the  most  versatile  of  Italians,  consists  of 
four  parts,  of  which  the  first  treats  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci  and  the  two  infinites, 
the  infinitely  great  and  the  infinitely  small.  The  second  part  discusses  his  re- 
lation to  the  plurality  of  worlds.  The  third  compares  him  with  Nicholas  de 
Cues,  that  philosopher  of  the  Middle  Ages  who  in  his  liberality  of  thought 
was  virtually  not  a  Mediaeval  philosopher  at  all,  but  an  over-conservative 
modern.  The  fourth  part  deals  with  Da  Vinci  and  the  origin  of  geology. 


L'ANNEE  BIOLOGIQUE.  Comptes  rendus  annuels  des  travaux  de  biologic  gene- 
rale.  Publics  sous  la  direction  de  Yves  Delage.  Paris:  Soudier,  1909. 
Pp.  508. 

The  nth  number  of  this  valuable  annual  has  come  to  hand.  It  gives  a 
comprehensive  survey  of  all  the  work  done  in  the  biological  field  in  the  year 
1906.  Its  preliminary  essay  is  on  Les  colerations  vitales.  It  reviews  work 
along  20  special  lines  as  divided  in  as  many  chapters,  and  each  of  these  chap- 
ters contains  discussions  of  perhaps  50  authors  and  their  publications  in 
magazine  and  book  form.  Thus  specialized  the  annual  is  of  invaluable  service 
to  the  specialist  in  any  branch  of  biology,  whether  he  is  most  interested  in  the 
cell,  fertilization,  ontogenesis,  heredity,  variation,  or  any  other  of  the  20  main 
subjects  included. 


BIOLOGY  AND  ITS  MAKERS.    By  William  A.  Locy.    New  York:  Henry  Holt  & 

Co.,  1908.    Pp.  469. 

In  this  volume  Professor  Locy  undertakes  to  bring  under  one  view  the 
broad  features  of  biological  progress,  including  not  only  the  various  phases  of 
the  evolution  theory,  but  also  the  other  features  of  biological  research,  some 
knowledge  of  which  is  essential  to  an  intelligent  comprehension  of  the  former. 
He  has  endeavored  to  increase  the  human  interest  by  centering  his  story 
around  the  lives  of  the  great  leaders  in  the  various  movements.  The  book  is 
divided  for  convenience  into  two  sections.  In  the  first  are  considered  the 
sources  of  the  ideas  that  dominate  biology,  while  the  doctrine  of  organic  evo- 
lution on  account  of  its  importance  is  reserved  for  special  consideration  in 
the  second  section.  The  text  is  illustrated  very  fully  with  portraits.  Some 
of  the  rare  ones  are  unfamiliar  even  to  biologists,  and  have  only  been  dis- 
covered after  a  long  search  in  the  libraries  of  America  and  Europe.  The  first 


640  THE  MONIST. 

chapter  treats  of  the  origin  and  history  of  biology  in  general.  Then  follow 
chapters  on  Vesalius,  Harvey,  the  pioneer  microscopists,  the  minute  anatomy 
of  the  1 8th  Century,  Linnaeus,  Cuvier,  Von  Baer  and  the  rise  of  embryology, 
the  cell-theory,  protoplasm,  Pasteur,  the  theories  of  Mendel,  Galton  and 
Weismann  on  heredity,  and  fossil  life.  In  the  second  part  evolution  is  defined 
and  the  various  theories  of  Lamarck,  Darwin,  Weismann  and  De  Vries  are 
discussed  in  detail. 


The  following  books  have  been  received  at  this  office : 

Dr.  P.  Haberlin,  Herbert  Spencers  Grundlagen  der  Philosophic;  eine 
kritische  Studie.  Leipsic :  Earth,  1908.  Pp.  205.  Price,  5.40  m. — Josef  Popper, 
Voltaire,  eine  Charakteranalysc,  in  Verbindung  mit  Studien  zur  Aesthetik, 
Moral  und  Politik.  Dresden:  Carl  Reissner,  1905.  Pp.  388. — Josef  Popper, 
Fundament  ernes  neuen  Staatsrechts.  Dresden :  Carl  Reissner,  1905.  Pp.  86. 
— Charles  S.  Myers,  A  Text  Book  of  Experimental  Psychology.  New  York : 
Longmans,  Green  &  Co.,  1909.  Pp.  432. — Wilbur  Marshall  Urban,  Valuation, 
Its  Nature  and  Laws :  Being  an  Introduction  to  the  General  Theory  of  Value. 
London :  Swan  Sonnenschein  &  Co.,  1909.  Pp."  433.  Price,  los  6d. — William 
Wilberforce  Costin,  Introduction  to  the  Genetic  Treatment  of  the  Faith-Con- 
sciousness in  the  Individual.  Baltimore:  Williams  &  Wilkins,  1909.  Pp.  45. 
Price,  65  c.,  mail,  71  c. — Raymond  Weill,  Les  origines  de  I'Egypte  pharaonique. 
ire  partie,  "La  lie  et  la  Ille  Dynasties."  Annales  du  Musee  Guimet.  Paris: 
Leroux,  1908.  Pp.  510.— Edward  Bradford  Titchener,  A  Text-Book  of  Psy- 
chology. New  York:  Macmillan,  1909.  Pp.  311.  Price,  $1.30. — Charles  Gray 
Shaw,  The  Precinct  of  Religion  in  the  Culture  of  Humanity.  London :  Swan 
Sonnenschein,  1908.  Pp.  279. — Dr.  Berthold  Kern,  Das  Problem  des  Lebens 
in  kritischer  Bearbeitung.  Berlin:  August  Hirschwald,  1909.  Pp.  592. — Ar- 
nold Reymond  ,Logique  et  mathematiques ;  Essai  historique  et  critique  sur 
le  nombre  infini.  Saint-Blaise :  Foyer  Solidariste.  1908.  Pp.  218.  Price,  5  fr. 


We  are  glad  to  welcome  Volume  IV  of  the  New  Schaff-Herzog  Encyclo- 
pedia of  Religious  Knowledge  which  proves  to  be  a  monitor  of  the  passing  of 
time  as  it  marks  the  end  of  another  three  months  with  the  precision  of  the 
calendar.  Its  range  is  from  "Draeseke"  to  "Goa."  It  contains  articles  of 
interest  in  archeological,  historical,  biographical  and  purely  religious  subjects 
treated  by  specialists.  A  few  suggestive  headings  are  Duns  Scotus,  Erasmus, 
Dunkers,  Eastern  Church,  Egypt,  France,  Society  of  Friends,  Eden,  Ecstacy, 
Faith,  Gesenius.  This  volume  is  also  furnished  with  a  bibliographical  appendix 
which  brings  bibliographies  for  the  articles  contained  in  all  four  volumes,  down 
to  July,  1909. 

The  collected  works  of  A.  Spir,  edited  by  Helene  Claparede-Spir,  are  now 
complete  in  two  volumes.  (Leipsic:  Earth,  1909.  Pp.  390,  Price  8  m.)  The 
second  volume  which  has  just  appeared  contains  his  essays  on  "Morality  and 
Religion"  and  "Right  and  Wrong,"  besides  some  lesser  miscellaneous  writings. 


The  Monist 


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