Full text of "Mind"
MIND
A QUARTERLY REVIEW
OF
PSYCHOLOGY AND PHILOSOPHY.
Cambridge :
PRINTED BY J. & C. F. CLAY,
AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS.
I **
MIND
A QUARTERLY REVIEW
OF
PSYCHOLOGY AND PHILOSOPHY
EDITED BY
G. F. STOUT,
WITH THE CO-OPKRATION OK PROFESSOR H. SIDGWICK, PROFESSOR W. WALLACE,
DR VENN, DR WARD, AND PROFESSOR E. B. T1TCHENER.
NEW SERIES, VOL. V. 1896.
WILLIAMS AND NORGATE,
14 HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN, LONDON;
20 SOUTH FREDERICK STREET, EDINBURGH;
AND 7 BROAD STREET, OXFORD.
1896.
CONTENTS OF VOL. V., N.S.
ARTICLES.
PAGE
BAIN, Mrs A. Ethics from a purely Practical Standpoint . . 327
BRADLEY, F. H. The Contrary and the Disparate . . . 464
EDITOR. Voluntary Action . 354
GIBSON, J. Locke's Theory of Mathematical Knowledge and of
a Possible Science of .Ethics 38
HARDIE, R. P. Plato's Earlier Theory of Ideas .... 167
KNIGHT, W. Philosophy in its National Developments . . 60
MARCH, H. COLLET. Psychology and Evolution in Art . . 441
MARSHALL, H. R. Consciousness and Biological Evolution (I.) . 367
> (II.) . 523
MUIRHEAD, J. H. The Place of the Concept in Logical Doctrine 508
RIVERS, W. H. R. On the Apparent Size of Objects . . . 71
RUSSELL, B. A. W. The Logic of Geometry .... 1
SHAND, A. F. Character and the Emotions 203
STURT, H. Conscience 343
TAYLOR, A. E. The Conception of Immortality in Spinoza's
Ethics . . . ."' . . . .145
On the Interpretation of Plato's Parmenides (I.) . 297*
(H.) 483
WELBY, V. Sense, Meaning, and Interpretation (I.) . . . 24
(II.) ... 186
DISCUSSIONS.
BALDWIN, J. M. The 'Type-Theory' of Reaction ... 81
BEARE, J. I. Self- Knowledge 227
CARLILE, W. W. Causation. Its alleged Universality . . 90
The Philosophy of Common Sense . . . 242
MELLONE, S. H. The Nature of 'Subjective' Knowledge . . 388
TITCHENER, E. B. The ' Type-Theory ' of the Simple Reaction . 236
CRITICAL NOTICES.
BEARE, J. I. H. Hoffding, Oeschichte der neueren Philosophic
eine Darsttellung der Oeschichte der Philosophic von dem
Ende der Renaissance bis zu unseren Tagen . . 246
JONES, E. E. C. W. Jerusalem, Die Urtheihfunction. Eine pny-
chologischc und erkenntniskritische Untersuchung . . .103
VI CONTENTS.
PAGE
MACKENZIE, J. S. L. T. Hobhouse, The Theory of Knowledge;
a Contribution to some Problems of Logic and Metaphysics . 396
MARCH, H. COLLEY. A. C. Haddon, Evolution in Art: as illus-
trated by the Life-histories of Designs 261
MULLINGER, J. B. J. M. Robertson, Buckle and his Critics: A
Study in Sociology 266
RUSSELL, B. A. Hannequin, Essai critique sur PHypothese des
Atomes dans la Science contemporaine . . . . .410
SCOTT, W. R. F. Pillon (publi^e sous la Direction de), L'Anne'e
philosophique Ill
STEVENSON, E. F. W. Wundt, Grundriss der Psychologic . . 564
SULLY, J. J. M. Baldwin, Mental Development in the Child and
the Race; methods and processes 97
TAYLOR, A. E. L. Mabilleau, Histoire de la Philosophic Atomistique 554
WALLACE, W. J. E. McTaggart, Studies in the Hegelian Dialectic . 538
WOODS, A. J. Sully, Studies of Childhood 256
NEW BOOKS.
Adickes, E. Kant-Studien 130
D'Arcy, C. F. A Short Study of Ethics 124
Berenson, B. Florentine Painters 270
Bergmann, J. Die Grundprobleme der Logik. Zweite vollig neue
Bearbeitung. (Preliminary Notice) 132
Biervliet, J.-J. van. Elements de Psychologic Humaine . . .572
Bonatelli, F. Elementi di Psicologia e Logica ad uso dei licei.
II. Edizione .......... 132
Boutroux, E. De la Contingence des Lois de la Nature . . 279
Calderwood, H. Evolution and Man's Place in Nature . . 421
Chamberlain, A. F. The Child and Childhood in Folk-Thought.
(The Child in primitive culture) . . . . . 273
Conant, L. L. The Number Concept: its origin and development 274
Cook, A. B. The Metaphysical Basis of Plato's Ethics . . .418
Croce, B. 11 Concetto della Storia nelle sue Relazioni col Concetto
dell' Arte 427
Dewey, J. and McLellan, J. A. The Psychology of Number, and its
application to methods of teaching Arithmetic .... 275
Donaldson, H. H. The Growth of the Brain: A Study of the
Nervous System in Relation to Education . . . .421
Dorner, A. Das menschliche Handeln 128
Dugas, L. Le Psittacisme et la Pense'e Symbolique . . . 422
Erdmann, J. E. Outlines of Logic and Metaphysics. (Translated
from the Fourth Edition by B. C. Burt) . . 422
Grundriss der Geschichte der Philosophic. Vierte
Auflage, bearbeitet von B. Erdmann. Zweiter Band 426
CONTENTS. Vll
PAGE
Eucken, R. Der Kampf um einen geistigen LebensinJialt. Neue
Grundlegung einer Weltanschauung ..... 280
Fail-brother, W. H. The Philosophy of Thomas Hill Green . . 421
Felici, G. S. Le Dottrine Filosojlco- Religiose di Tommaso Campanella 283
Ferri, E. Criminal Sociology 276
Fouillee, A. Temperament et Caractere: salon les individus, les
sexes, et les races ....... 125
Le Mouvement Ide'aliste, et la reaction contre la
science positive 424
Fraser, A. G. Philosophy of Theism. (Gifford Lectures 1894-95.
First Series) 275
Garofalo, R. La Superstition Socialiste 278
Granger, F. The worship of the Romans, viewed in relation to
the Roman temperament ........ 276
Groos, K.Die Spiele der Thiere 282
Haddon, A. C. Evolution in Art: as illustrated by the Life-
Histories of Designs. (Preliminary Notice) . . . .125
Halleux, J. Les Principes du Positivisme contemporain . . . 572
Heinrich, W. Die moderne physiologische Psychologic in Deutsch-
land 131
Hering, E. On Memory, and The Specific Energies of the Nervous
System 125
Hoffding, H. Geschichte der neueren Philosophic. Erster Band.
(Preliminary Notice) 131
Hoffman, W. J. The Beginnings of Writing 275
Hyslop, J. H. The Elements of Ethics 119
Koch, E. Die Psychologic in der Religionswissenschaft . . . 427
Kttlpe, 0. Outlines of Psychology: based upon the results of ex-
perimental' investigation. (Translated by E. B. Titchener) . 125
Lanessan, J.-L. de. La Morale des Philosophes Chinois . . . 573
Lechalas, G. Etude sur Vespace et le temps 128
Lichtenberger, A.Le Socialisme au xvin 6 siecle . . . .277
Mabilleau, L. Histoire de la Philosophic Atomistique. (Prelimi-
nary Notice) 279
Marey, E. J. Movement. (Translated by E. Pritchard) . . 275
McLellan, J. A. and Dewey, J. The Psychology of Number, and
its applications to methods of teaching Arithmetic . . 275
Mills, W. Psychic Development of Young Animals .... 570
Morris, J. A new Natural Theology, based upon the Doctrine of
Evolution 420
Payot, J. De la Croyance 423
Pillon, F. (publiee sous la direction de). L'Anne'e Philosophique . 424
Rickert, H. Die Grenzen der naturwisscnschaftlichen Begrifsbildung 574
Roberty, E. de. Le Bien et le Mai 423
Rousseau, J. J. Du Contrat Social. Ed. E. Drcyfus-Brisac . . 570
Vlll CONTENTS.
PAGE
Salter, W. M. Anarchy or Government? An Inquiry in Funda-
mental Politics .......... 568
Sarlo, F. doSaggi di Filosofia. Vol. 1 428
Schellwien, R. Der Geist der neueren Philosophic. Erster Theil . 132
Zweiter Theil 425
Schwarz, H. Die Umioalzung der Wahrnehmungshypothesen durch
die mechanische Methode. Nebst einem Beitrag iiber die
Grenzen der physiologischen Psychologie .... 283
Sciascia, P. La Dottrina della Volonta nella Psicologia Inglese
dalV Hobbes fino ai tempi nostri 429
Scripture, E. W. Thinking, Feeling, Doing 272
Stanley, H. M. Studies in the Evolutionary Psychology of Feeling 276
Stephen, L. Social Rights and Duties 422
Sully, J. Studies of Childhood. (Preliminary Notice) . . . 123
Taylor, T. W. The Individual and the State: an Essay on
Justice 422
Thompson, A. B. The Unity of Fichte's Doctrine of Knowledge . 122
Thouverez, E. Le Realisme M&aphysique 280
Tonnies, F. Hobbes Leben und Lehre 573
Watson, J. Hedonistic Theories from Aristippus to Spencer . . 121
Weismann, A. On Germinal Selection 422
Whittaker, T. Essays and Notices 122
Wulf, M. de. Etudes historiques sur PEsthetique de Saint Thomas
d'Aquin ' 571
Wundt, W. Grundriss der Psychologie. (Preliminary Notice) . 426
Ziehen, T. Introduction to Physiological Psychology. (Translated
by C. C. van Liew and 0. W. Beyer) 124
Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society. Vol. 3, No. 2 . . 569
NOTES AND NEWS.
BALDWIN, J. M. Reply to a Criticism 294
HOFFDING, H. Reply to a Criticism 581
SCRIPTURE, E. W. Thinking,' Feeling, Doing .... 580
SULLY, J. Rejoinder to Professor Baldwin 295
Advertisement of the Welby Prize 583
Aristotelian Society and Mind 584
Dictionary of Philosophy and Psychology. (Preliminary Announce-
ment) 438
Mentally Defective Children 440
New Edition of the Works of Descartes 439
Philosophy in its National Developments 583
The Third International Congress of Psychology . . . .143
PHILOSOPHICAL PERIODICALS . . . 134, 287, 431, 574
NEW SERIES. No. 17.] [JANUARY, 1896.
MIND
A QUAETEELY EEVIEW
OF
PSYCHOLOGY AND PHILOSOPHY,
I. THE LOGIC OF GEOMETRY.
BY B. A. W. RUSSELL.
IN the present paper, we are not concerned with the cor-
respondence of Geometry with fact; we are concerned with
Geometry simply as a body of reasoning, the conditions of
whose possibility we wish to examine. For our present
purpose, therefore, we have nothing to do with crude or un-
formed notions of space; we have to do with the conception
of space in its most finished and elaborated form, after thought
has done its utmost in transforming the intuitional data.
Nevertheless, we shall have occasion to remember, from time
to time, that there is a space-intuition, and that the nature
of this intuition makes the conception of space radically and
permanently different, in important respects, from that of any
other manifold.
I. The Axiom of Congruence.
Let us begin with a provisional definition. Geometry, we
may say, deals with the comparison and relations of spatial
magnitudes. Whether or not geometry has a wider subject-
matter than this, we may for the present leave undecided;
this much it certainly does deal with. The conception of
magnitude, then, is, from the start, a necessary part of
Geometry. Some of Euclid's axioms, accordingly, have been
classed as arithmetical, and have been supposed to have
M. 1
2 B. A. W. RUSSELL:
nothing particular to do with space. Such are the axioms
that equals added to or subtracted from equals give equals,
and that things which are equal to the same thing are equal
to one another. These axioms, it is said, are purely arith-
metical, and do not, like the others, ascribe an adjective to
space. As regards their use in arithmetic, this is of course
true. But if an arithmetical axiom is to be applied to spatial
magnitudes, it must have some spatial import, and thus even
this class is not, in Geometry, merely arithmetical. Fortunately,
the geometrical element is the same in all the axioms of this
class in fact we can see at once that it can amount to no
more than a definition of spatial magnitude. Again, since
the space with which Geometry deals is infinitely divisible,
a definition of spatial magnitude reduces itself to a definition
of spatial equality, for, as soon as we have this last, we can
compare two spatial magnitudes by dividing each into a
number of equal units, and counting the number of such
units in each 1 . The ratio of the number of units is, of
course, the ratio of the two magnitudes.
We require, then, at the very outset, some criterion of
spatial equality; without such a criterion, Geometry would
become wholly impossible. It might appear, at first sight,
as though this need not be an axiom, but might be a mere
definition. This, however, is not the case, for two distinct
spatial magnitudes are necessarily external to one another,
and cannot, therefore, as they stand, be directly compared.
Euclid gives the requisite axiom in the form : " Magnitudes
which exactly coincide are equal." But this form does not
clearly bring out the difficulty, for if they exactly coincide,
they are not only equal, but identical. It is only when
he uses his axiom (as e.g. Bk. I. Prop. 4) that we discover
the real point of it: the two magnitudes have to be brought
into coincidence by the motion of one or both of them. Hence
if mere motion could alter shapes, our criterion of equality
would break down. It follows that the application of the
conception of magnitude to figures in space involves the
following axiom : Spatial magnitudes can be moved from place
to place without distortion; or, as it may be put, Shapes do
not in any way depend on absolute position in space.
The above axiom is the axiom of Congruence, or Free
Mobility. I propose to prove (i) that the denial of this
1 Strictly speaking, this method is only applicable where the two
magnitudes are commensurable. But if we take infinite divisibility
rigidly, the units can theoretically be taken so small as to obtain any
required degree of approximation. The difficulty is the universal one of
applying to continua the essentially discrete conception of number.
THE LOGIC OF GEOMETRY. 3
axiom would involve logical and philosophical absurdities, so
that it must be classed as wholly a priori ; (ii) that Geometry,
if it refused this axiom, would have to set up another far more
arbitrary axiom, namely that a shape given in some standard
position would in any other position be some definite function
of the standard shape and the change of place ; (iii) that such
an axiom as this last would be a mere convention, since no
experience .could determine the form of the function to be
assumed ; and (iv) that Geometry, in setting up this alternative
axiom, would be guilty of a philosophic absurdity. The
conclusion will be that the axiom cannot be proved or dis-
proved by experience, but is an a priori condition of Geometry.
As I shall thus be maintaining a position which has been much
controverted, especially by Helmholtz and Erdmann, I shall have
to enter into the arguments at some length.
A. Philosophical Argument. The denial of the axiom
involves absolute position, and an action of mere space, per
se, on things. For the axiom does not assert that real bodies,
as a matter of empirical fact, never change their shape in any
way during their passage from place to place ; on the contrary,
we know that such changes do occur, sometimes in a very
noticeable degree, and always to some extent. But such
changes are attributed, not to the change of place as such,
but to physical causes : change of temperature, pressure, etc.
What our axiom has to deal with is not actual material
bodies, but geometrical figures, and it asserts that a figure
which is possible in any one position in space is possible in
every other. Its meaning will become clearer by reference
to a case where it does not hold, say the space formed by
the surface of an egg. Here, a triangle drawn near the
equator cannot be moved without distortion to the point, as
it would no longer fit the greater curvature of the new
position; a triangle drawn near the point cannot be fitted
on to the flatter end, and so on. Thus the method of Super-
position, such as Euclid employs in I. 4, becomes impossible :
figures cannot be freely moved about ; indeed, given any figure,
we can determine a certain series of possible positions for it
on the egg, outside which it becomes impossible. What I
assert is, then, that there is a philosophic absurdity in
supposing space in general to be of this nature. On the egg
we have marked points, such as the two ends: space is not
homogeneous, and if things are moved about in it, it must
of itself exercise a distorting effect upon them, quite inde-
pendently of physical causes ; if it did not exercise such an
effect, the things could not be moved. Thus such a space
would not be homogeneous, but would have marked points,
12
4 B. A. W. RUSSELL:
by reference to which bodies would have absolute position,
quite independently of any other bodies. Space would no
longer be passive, but would exercise a definite effect upon
things, and we should have to accommodate ourselves to the
notion of marked points in empty space; these points being
marked, not by the bodies which occupied them, but by
their effects on any bodies which might from time to time
occupy them. This want of homogeneity and passivity is,
however, absurd; no philosopher has ever thrown doubt, so
far as I know, on these two properties of empty space;
indeed they seem to flow from the maxim that nothing can
act on nothing, for empty space is rather a possibility of
being filled than a real thing given in experience. We
must, then, on purely philosophical grounds, admit that a
geometrical figure which is possible anywhere is possible
everywhere, which is the axiom of Congruence.
B. Geometrical Argument. Let us see, next, what sort of
Geometry we could construct without this axiom. The ultimate
standard of comparison of spatial magnitudes must, as we saw
in introducing the axiom, be equality when superposed; but
need we, from this equality, infer equality when separated ?
For the more immediate purposes of Geometry, I believe this
would be unnecessary. We might construct a new Geometry,
far more complicated than any yet imagined, in which sizes
varied with motion on any definite law 1 . Suppose the length
of an infinitesimal arc in some standard position were ds ; then
in any other position p, its length would be ds .f (p), where the
form of the function / (p) must be supposed known. But how
are we to determine the position p ? For this purpose, we
require p's coordinates, i.e. some measure of distance from the
origin. But the distance from the origin could only be measured
if we assumed our law f (p) to measure it by. For suppose
the origin to be 0, and Op to be a straight line whose length is
required. If we have a measuring rod with which we travel
along the line and measure successive infinitesimal arcs, the
measuring rod will change its size as we move, so that an arc
which appears by the measure to be ds will really be f (s) ds f
where s is the previously traversed distance. If, on the other
hand, we move our line Op slowly through the origin, and
measure each piece as it passes through, our measure, it is true,
will not alter, but then we have no means of discovering the
law by which any element has changed its length in coming to
the origin. Hence, until we assume our function /(p), we have
no means of determining p, for we have just seen that distances
1 Cp. Cayley's Sixth Memoir upon Qualities, and Klein's development
of it in his Vorlesungen iiber Nicht-Euklvdische Geometric, Vol. I. Chap. ii.
THE LOGIC OF GEOMETRY. 5
from the origin can only be estimated by means of the law f (p).
It follows that experience can neither prove nor disprove the
constancy of shapes throughout motion, since, if shapes were
not constant, we should have to assume a law of their variation
before measurement became possible, and therefore measure-
ment could not itself reveal that variation to us.
Nevertheless, such an arbitrarily assumed law does give a
mathematically possible Geometry. The fundamental propo-
sition, that two magnitudes which can be superposed in any
one position can be superposed in any other, still holds. For
two infinitesimal arcs, whose lengths in the standard position
are dsi and ds 2 , would in any other position p have lengths
f(p) . ds t &ndf(p) . ds 2 , so that their ratio would be unaltered.
From this constancy of ratio, as we know through Riemann and
Helmholtz, the above^ proposition follows. Hence all that
Geometry requires, as a basis for measurement, is an axiom
that the alteration of shapes during motion follows a definite
known law, such as that assumed above.
This law, since it is a prerequisite of measurement, cannot
be derived from experience, but must be arbitrarily assumed.
Mathematically, in short, it is a mere convention. But philo-
sophically, as we have seen, any form for the law, except the
special form contained in the axiom of Congruence, involves
absolute position and an action of empty space per se on things.
Fortunately, therefore, where experience leaves us in the lurch,
we have an a priori ground for accepting the geometrically
simplest alternative, viz., that shapes are completely inde-
pendent of motion in space.
As the axiom of Congruence is the most fundamental of all
the axioms of Geometry, and as the Pangeometers have generally
held that it is derived entirely from experience of rigid bodies, I
may perhaps be pardoned for dwelling on it a little longer. If
I am right in contending that this axiom is necessary a priori,
Helmholtz's view, that it asserts the rigidity of actual bodies, is
already disproved. For, as he rightly points out, such rigidity
could only be proved empirically, and the axiom would therefore
be itself empirical, as much as the law of gravitation. But if
what I have said about its necessity for Geometry is correct,
Helmholtz's view involves a logical fallacy : for unless we
assume congruence, or the more general axiom suggested
above, there would remain no geometrical method of dis-
covering whether or how a body had changed its shape in
moving from place to place, and we could thus never discover
whether there were rigid bodies or not. Since our own bodies
would have to share the change when we moved, there is no
reason for supposing that our sensations would reveal the
6 B. A. W. RUSSELL :
change to us; indeed the whole conception of spatial magni-
tude becomes meaningless, and there would therefore be nothing
left for sensations to tell us about it. If our measure changed
its shape, as it would have to do, in the same manner as the
thing measured, we could never discover such change. But, a
supporter of Helmholtz might object, unless you assume your
measure to be a rigid body, you are equally unable to measure
things and rigidity can only be known by experience. Unless
you assume some bodies, such as the platinum bar in the Ex-
chequer, which, under certain conditions, e.g. constant tempera-
ture, are approximately rigid, it becomes impossible to apply
your Geometry to concrete things it is reduced to what Helm-
holtz mockingly calls "transcendental" as opposed to "physical"
Geometry. This objection is plausible, but I believe we can
answer it. (1) In the first place, the conception of rigidity is
meaningless until we have the axiom of Congruence. If mere
space did not allow, in one place, a shape which it had allowed
in another, we should not be able to bring our measure, un-
changed, to the new place ; if a body, in the passage from the
first to the second place, had suffered deformation, we should
not be able to estimate the extent of that deformation. Non-
rigidity, in an actual body, involves the continued possibility of
the old, shape, together with an actual departure from it. (2)
There are, as a matter of fact, no such things as perfectly rigid
bodies, and yet Geometry remains. All bodies change their
size with changes of temperature ; some change with pressure.
If the atomic theory be true, nothing can be rigid except the
ultimate atoms. It would be odd if the most fundamental
postulate of Geometry, on which all spatial measurement
depends, were as a matter of fact untrue. (3) To pass to
positive objections, Geometry deals, not with matter, but
with space. If we admitted Helmholtz's view, the distinction
between Physics and Geometry would break down. What our
axiom asserts about real bodies is not that their shapes do not
change, but that such changes of shape as they do undergo are
due to physical, not to geometrical, causes. This makes the
investigation of these physical causes possible, by the ordinary
inductive methods. We can compare two bodies, first at the
same temperature, then at different temperatures, and thus
discover the effect of temperature on volume. But such com-
parison, as we have seen, is only possible by the help of the
axiom of Congruence, which alone makes spatial magnitude
an intelligible property of a body. What we require is not
the existence of actual rigid bodies, but the axiom that bodies,
under precisely similar physical conditions, preserve their shapes
in spite of changing geometrical conditions. The platinum bar
THE LOGIC OF GEOMETRY. 7
in the Exchequer varies in size, but that does not upset our
Geometry ; we specify a certain temperature at which its size
is to be taken, and at this temperature our axiom tells us that
its length is constant, in spite of the earth's motion in space.
Of course, when we apply Geometry to real bodies, an empiri-
cal element appears in the axiom, for it is only empirically and
approximately that we can know the physical conditions to be
the same in two cases. But geometrical shapes are not neces-
sarily bodies indeed bodies never have accurate geometrical
shapes and the properties of space need not be confounded
with those of matter. Thus there seems no ground for giving
to our axiom the untrue sense of affirming the actual existence
of rigid bodies. What it does assert, at bottom, is the impossi-
bility of absolute position, and the homogeneity of space.
There remain one or two objections to be answered. First,
how do we obtain equality in solids, and in Kant's case of right
and left gloves or right- and left-handed screws, where actual
superposition is impossible ? And second, how can we take
Congruence as the only possible basis of spatial measurement,
when we have before us the case of time, where no such thing
as Congruence is conceivable ? I will consider these objections
in turn.
(1) How do we measure the equality of solids in Geometry?
These could only be brought into actual congruence if we had a
fourth dimension to operate in, and from what I have said
before of the absolute necessity of this test, it might seem as
though we should be left here in utter ignorance. Euclid is silent
on the subject, and in all works on Geometry it is assumed as
self-evident that two cubes of equal side are equal. This
assumption suggests that we are not so badly off as we should
have been without congruence as a test of equality in one and
two dimensions ; for now we can at least be sure that two cubes
have all their sides and all their faces equal. Two such cubes
differ, then, in no sensible spatial quality save position, for
volume, in this case at any rate, is not a sensible quality. They
are, therefore, as far as such qualities are concerned, indiscern-
ible; if their places were interchanged, we might know the
change by their colour or by some other non-geometrical
property; but so far as any property of which Geometry can
take cognizance is concerned, everything would seem as before.
To suppose a difference of volume, then, would be to ascribe an
effect to mere position, which we saw to be inadmissible while
discussing congruence ; except as regards position, they are
geometrically indiscernible, and we may call to our aid the
Identity of Indiscernibles to establish their agreement in the
one remaining geometrical property of volume. This may seem
8 B. A. W. RUSSELL :
rather a strange principle to use in Mathematics, and for
Geometry their equality is, perhaps, best regarded as a con-
vention; but if we demand a philosophical ground for this
convention, it is, I believe, only to be found in the Identity of
Indiscernibles. Of course, as soon as we have established this
one case of equality of volumes, the rest of the theory follows ;
as appears from the ordinary method of integrating volumes, by
dividing them into small cubes.
Thus congruence helps to establish 3-dimensional equality,
though it cannot directly prove such equality; and the same
philosophical principle, of the homogeneity of space, by which
congruence was proved, comes to our rescue here. But how
about right-handed and left-handed screws ? Here we can no
longer apply the identity of indiscernibles, for the two are very
well discernible. As with solids, so here, actual superposition
would only be possible if we had a fourth dimension to operate
in. But again, as with solids, so here, Congruence can help us
much. It can enable us, by ordinary measurement, to show
that the internal relations of both screws are the same, and that
the difference lies only in their relations to other things in
space. Knowing these internal relations, we can calculate, by
the Geometry which Congruence has rendered possible, all the
geometrical properties of these screws radius, pitch, etc. and
can show them to be severally equal in both. But this is all
we require. Mediate comparison is possible, though immediate
comparison is, not. Both can, for instance, be compared with
the cylinder on which both would fit, and thus their equality
can be proved. A precisely similar proof holds, of course, for
the other cases right and left gloves, spherical triangles, etc.
On the whole, these cases confirm my argument ; for they show,
as Kant intended them to show, the essential relativity of space.
(2) As regards time, no Congruence is here conceivable, for
to effect Congruence requires always as we saw in the case of
solids one more dimension than belongs to the magnitudes
compared. No day can be brought into temporal coincidence
with any other day, to show that the two exactly cover each
other; we are therefore reduced to the arbitrary assumption
that some motion or set of motions, given us in experience, is
uniform. Fortunately, we have a large set of motions which all
roughly agree: the swing of the pendulum, the rotation and
revolution of the earth and the planets, etc. These do not
exactly agree, but they lead us to the laws of motion, by which
we are able, on our arbitrary hypothesis, to estimate their small
departures from uniformity ; just as the assumption of Congru-
ence enabled us to measure the departures of actual bodies from
rigidity. But here, as there, another possibility is mathemati-
THE LOGIC OF GEOMETRY.
cally open to us, and can only be excluded by its philosophic
absurdity ; we might have assumed that the above set of
approximately agreeing motions all had velocities which varied
approximately as some arbitrarily assumed function of the time
f(t) say, measured from some arbitrary origin. Such an
assumption would still keep them as nearly synchronous as
before, and would give an equally possible, though more
complex, system of Mechanics; instead of the first law of
motion, we should have the following : A particle preserves in
its state of rest, or of rectilinear motion with velocity varying
&sf(t), except in so far as it is compelled to alter that state by
the action of external forces. Such a hypothesis is mathemati-
cally possible, but, like the similar one for space, it is excluded
by the fact that it involves absolute time, as a determining
agent in change, whereas time can never, philosophically, be
anything but a passive holder of events, abstracted from change.
I have introduced this parallel from time, not as really
bearing on the argument, but as a simpler case which may
serve to illustrate my reasoning in the more complex case of
space. For since time, in Mathematics, is one-dimensional, the
mathematical difficulties are simpler than in Geometry; and
although nothing accurately corresponds to Congruence, there
is a very similar mixture of mathematical and philosophical
necessity, giving, finally, a thoroughly definite axiom as the
basis of time-measurement, corresponding to Congruence as the
basis of space-measurement 1 .
(3) The case of time-measurement suggests one last ob-
jection which might be urged against the absolute necessity of
the axiom of Congruence. Psychophysics has shown that we
have an approximate power, by means of what may be called
the sense of duration, of immediately estimating equal short
times. This, it may be said, establishes a rough measure
independent of any assumed uniform motion, and in space
also we may be said to have a similar power of immediate
comparison. We can see, by immediate inspection, that the
sub-divisions on a foot-rule are not grossly inaccurate, and so,
it may be said, we both have a measure independent of Congru-
ence, and also could discover, by experience, any gross departure
from Congruence. Against this view, however, there is at the
outset a very fundamental psychological objection. It appears
that all our comparison of spatial magnitudes proceeds by ideal
superposition. Thus James says (Psychology, Vol. II. p. 152):
" Even where we only feel one sub-division to be vaguely larger
1 It is also important to observe that since time, in the above account,
is measured by motion, its measurement presupposes that of spatial
magnitudes.
10 B. A. W. RUSSELL:
or less, the mind must pass rapidly between it and the other
sub-division, and receive the immediate sensible shock of the
more," and "so far as the sub-divisions of a sense-space are
to be measured exactly against each other, objective forms
occupying one sub-division must be directly or indirectly
superposed upon the other 1 ." Even if we waive this funda-
mental objection, however, others remain. To begin with, such
judgments of equality are only very rough approximations, and
cannot be applied to lines of more than a certain length, if only
for the reason that such lines cannot well be seen together.
Thus this method can only give us any security in our own
immediate neighbourhood, and could in no wise warrant such
operations as would be required for the construction of maps,
etc., much less the measurement of astronomical distances. They
might just enable us to say that some lines were longer than
others, but they would leave Geometry in a position no better
than that of the Hedonical Calculus, in which we depend on a
purely subjective measure. So inaccurate, in fact, is such a
method acknowledged to be, that the foot-rule is as much a
need of daily life as of science. Besides, no one would trust
such immediate judgments, but for the fact that the stricter
test of Congruence to some extent confirms them ; if we could
not apply this test, we should have no ground for trusting
them even as much as we do. Thus we should have, here, no
real escape from our absolute dependence upon the axiom of
Congruence.
One last elucidatory remark is necessary before our proof of
the axiom of Congruence can be considered complete. We
spoke, above, of the Geometry on an egg, where Congruence
does not hold. What, I may be asked, is there, about a
thoroughly non-Congruent Geometry, more impossible than
this Geometry on the egg? The answer is obvious. The
Geometry of non-congruent surfaces is only possible by the
use of infinitesimals, and in the infinitesimal all surfaces become
plane. The fundamental formula, that for the length of an
infinitesimal arc, is only obtained on the assumption that such
an arc may be treated as a straight line, and that Euclidean
Plane Geometry may be applied in the immediate neighbour-
hood of any point. If we had not our Euclidean measure, which
could be moved without distortion, we should have no method
of comparing small arcs in different places, and the Geometry of
non-congruent surfaces would break down. Thus the axiom of
Congruence, as regards three-dimensional space, is necessarily
implied and presupposed in the Geometry of non-congruent
1 Cp. Stumpf, Ursprung der Haumvorstellung, p. 68.
THE LOGIC OF GEOMETRY. 11
surfaces ; the possibility of the latter, therefore, is a dependent
and derivative possibility, and can form no argument against the
a priori necessity of Congruence.
It is to be observed that the axiom of Congruence or Free
Mobility, as I have enunciated it, includes also the axiom to
which Helmholtz gives the name of Monodromy. This asserts
that a body does not alter its dimensions in consequence of a
complete revolution through four right angles, but occupies
at the end the same position as at the beginning. On the
mathematical necessity of making a separate axiom of this
property of space, there is disagreement among experts ;
philosophically it is plainly a particular case of Congruence 1
and indeed a particularly obvious case, for a translation really
does make some change in a body, namely a change in position,
but a rotation through four right angles may be supposed to
have been performed any number of times without appearing in
the result, and ithe absurdity of ascribing to space the power of
making bodies grow in the process is palpable ; everything that
was said above on Congruence in general applies with even
greater evidence to this special case.
To sum up : the axiom of Free Mobility contains whatever
is geometrical in the so-called arithmetical axioms, as well as
Euclid's 8th axiom. It supplies a measure of spatial equality
for lines, surfaces and angles, and so of spatial magnitude in
general, but this is geometrically not the only possible way of
supplying such a measure. We might suppose that all geo-
metrical figures varied their shapes and sizes in any assumed
definite way, so that, say, an elementary line, whose length in a
standard position was ds, became, in the position p of a length
ds.F(p). As, however, the position p could only be defined
by the lengths of its coordinates, and these lengths could only
be discovered by means of the above assumed law, the law
could never be either proved or disproved by Geometry, and
would, therefore, be of the nature of an arbitrary convention.
This being so, it is open to us, without danger to the validity
of Geometry, to choose any form for f(p) which may be
convenient ; we may therefore make f(p) a constant, unity,
by which means we reduce the above axiom to that of
Congruence. But when we pass to the philosophical point
of view, it appears that the axiom flows from the general
principle of the passivity of mere space in relation to objects, so
that philosophically it is more than a convention; it is even
necessary a priori, and non-Euclidean systems (with the
1 As is Helmholtz's other axiom, that the possibility of superposition is
independent of the course pursued in bringing it about.
12 B. A. W. RUSSELL :
apparent exception of Cayley's) do not, as a matter of fact, ever
dispense with it.
II. The Axiom of Dimensions.
We have seen, in discussing the axiom of Congruence, that
all position is relative, that is, a position exists only by virtue
of relations 1 . It follows that, if positions can be defined at all,
they must be uniquely and exhaustively described by some
finite number of such relations. If Geometry is to be possible,
it must happen that, after enough relations have been given
to determine a point uniquely, its relation to any fresh known
point must be deducible from the relations already given.
Hence we obtain, as an a priori condition of Geometry,
logically indispensable to its existence, the axiom that Space
must have a finite integral number of Dimensions. For every
relation required in the definition of a point constitutes a
dimension, and a fraction of a relation is meaningless. The
number of relations required must be finite, for an infinite
number of dimensions would be practically impossible to
determine. If we remember our axiom of Congruence, and
remember also that space is a continuum, we may state our
axiom in the form given by Helmholtz : " In a space of n
dimensions the position of a point is uniquely determined
by the measurement of n continuous independent variables
(coordinates) 2 ."
So much, then, is a priori necessary to Geometry. The
restriction of the dimensions to three seems, on the contrary,
to be wholly the work of experience. This restriction cannot be
logically necessary, for as soon as we have formulated any
analytical system, it appears wholly arbitrary. Why, we are
driven to ask, cannot we add a fourth coordinate to our x, y, z, or
give a geometrical meaning to x* ? In this more special form,
we are tempted to regard the axiom of dimensions, like the
number of inhabitants of a town, as a purely statistical fact, with
no greater necessity than such facts have.
Geometry affords intrinsic evidence of the truth of my
division of the axiom of dimensions into an a priori and empirical
portion. For the extension of the number of dimensions to
four, or to n, alters nothing in plane and solid Geometry, but only
1 The question "Relations to what?", is a question involving many
difficulties. It will be touched on later in this article, but can only be
answered by abandoning the purely geometrical standpoint. For the
present, in spite of the glaring circle involved, I shall take the relations
as relations to other positions.
2 Win. Abh. Bd. n. S. 614.
THE LOGIC OF GEOMETRY. 13
adds new branches which interfere in no way with the old ;
but some definite number of dimensions is assumed in all
Geometries, nor is it possible to conceive of a Geometry which
should be free from this assumption.
Let us, since the point seems of some interest, and has, to
my knowledge, never been noticed before, repeat our proof of
the apriority of this axiom from a slightly different point of
view. We will begin, this time, from the most abstract
conception of space, such as we find in Riemann's dissertation.
We have, here, an ordered manifold, infinitely divisible and
allowing of free mobility. Free mobility involves, as we saw, the
power of passing continuously from any one point to any other,
by any course which may seem pleasant to us ; it involves, also,
that, in such a course, no changes occur except changes of mere
position ; i.e. positions do not differ from one another in any
qualitative way. (This absence of qualitative difference is the
distinguishing mark of space as opposed to other manifolds,
such as the colour- and tone-systems ; in these, every element
has a definite qualitative sensational value, whereas, in space, the
sensational value of a position depends wholly on its relation to
our own body, and is thus not intrinsic, but relative.) From
the absence of qualitative differences among positions, it follows
logically that positions exist only by virtue of other positions ;
one position differs from another just because they are two, not
because of anything intrinsic in either. Position is thus defined
simply and solely by relation to other positions. Any position,
therefore, is completely defined when, and only when, enough
such relations have been given to enable us to determine its
relation to any new position, this new position being defined by
the same number of relations. Now in order that such
definition may be at all possible, a finite number of relations
must suffice. But every such relation constitutes a dimension.
Therefore, if Geometry is to be possible, it is a priori neces-
sary that space should have a finite integral number of
dimensions.
The limitation of the dimensions to three is, as we have
seen, empirical ; nevertheless, it is not liable to the inaccuracy
and uncertainty which usually belong to empirical knowledge.
For the alternatives which logic leaves to sense are discrete if
the dimensions are not three, they must be two or four or some
other number so that small errors are out of the question.
Hence the final certainty of the axiom of three dimensions,
though in part due to experience, is of quite a different order from
that of (say) the law of Gravitation. In the latter, a small
inaccuracy might exist and remain undetected ; in the former,
an error would have to be so considerable as to be utterly
14 B. A. w. RUSSELL:
impossible to overlook. It follows that the certainty of our
whole axiom is almost as great as that of the a priori element,
since this element leaves to sense a definite disjunction of
discrete possibilities.
III. The Straight Line. I have hitherto spoken of
relations between points as though the meaning of such
relations were self-evident ; I have spoken, also, of distances and
magnitudes as though these were terms which any one might
use unchallenged. The time has now come to examine more
minutely into these assumptions.
First of all, what is the relation between two points ? The
answer seems evident : the relation is their distance apart.
Well and good : but how is their distance to be measured ? It
must be measured by some curve which joins the two points,
and if it is to have a unique value, it must be measured by a
curve which those two points completely define. But such a
curve is a straight line, for a straight line is the only curve
determined by any two of its points. Hence, if two points are
to have to each other a determinate relation, without reference to
any other point or figure in space, space must allow of curves
uniquely determined by any two of their points, i.e. of straight
lines.
This is the axiom of the straight line ; but we cannot regard
the a priori certainty of this axiom as established by so
summary an argument. In the first place, our axiom is as yet
hypothetical we have still to discuss whether it is logically
possible for the relation between two points to be dependent on
the rest of space, or on some part of the rest of space. If this
possibility is successfully disposed of, it remains to show, more
rigidly than above, that the relation between two points can
only have a unique value if it is measured by a curve which
those two points completely define. In short, we shall have to
consider the conditions for the measurement of distance. Here
we shall have a very formidable difficulty in spherical Geometry,
which may compel us somewhat to modify our axiom. In the
course of the discussion, it will appear that points have no
meaning apart from lines, nor lines apart from points ; thus our
definition of the straight line will become circular, and we shall
be forced to admit the necessity of some extra-geometrical aid
in framing our idea of the straight line.
(1) What warrant have we for supposing that two points
must have to each other a determinate relation, independent of
the rest of space ? Our argument is already rather risky, since
we have said that points can only be determined by their
relations to other points, and these others by relations to fresh
points, and so on ad infinitum. This procedure involves either
THE LOGIC OF GEOMETRY. 1 5
a circle or an infinite regress 1 , either of which is a logical
fallacy, which we are not yet in a position to resolve. Hence
our reasoning, as resting on this fallacy, is necessarily rather
precarious. Nevertheless, we will see what is to be said.
Our great resource, here as always, is the homogeneity of
space. It is plain that any two points must have some relation
to each other, and it follows from the homogeneity of space
that two points having the same relation can be constructed in
any other part of space. Using the axiom of Free Mobility, we
may express this fact thus : The figure formed of the two points
can be moved about in space, in any way we choose, without
being altered in any way. Consequently, the relation between
the two points cannot be altered by motion. But, if that
relation were in any way dependent on the position of the two
points in space, it would necessarily be altered by change of
position. Now relation to other figures in space means nothing
but position, or some factor in the determination of position,
and is thus necessarily altered by motion 2 . It follows that the
relation between the two points, being unaltered by motion,
must be independent of the rest of space. Thus two points
have to each other a definite relation, uniquely determined by
those two points.
But why, it may be asked, should there be only one such
relation between two points ? Why not several ? The answer
to this lies in the fact that points are wholly constituted by
relations, and have no intrinsic nature of their own. A point is
defined by its relations to other points, and when once the
relations necessary for definition have been given, no fresh
relations to the points used in definition are possible, since the
point defined has no qualities from which such relations could
flow. Now one relation to any one other point is as good for
definition as more would be, since however many we had, they
would all remain unaltered in a motion of both points. Hence
there can only be one relation determined by any two points.
(2) We have thus disposed of the first objection two
points have one and only one relation uniquely determined by
those two points. This relation we call their distance apart.
It remains to consider the conditions of the measurement of
1 Corresponding to the two possibilities of infinite, and of finite but
unbounded space.
2 It may be objected that, if the relation were, for instance, distance
from some plane, motion parallel to that plane would not alter the
relation. But the axiom of Free Mobility admits of no exceptions, so
that the motion of the two points cannot be restricted to motion parallel
to that plane. Motion of a general kind will alter any external relation of
the figure moved.
16 B. A. W. RUSSELL :
distance, i.e. how far a unique value for distance involves a
curve uniquely determined by the two points.
We are accustomed to the definition of the straight line as
the shortest distance between two points, which implies that
distance might equally well be measured by curved lines. This
implication I believe to be false, for the following reasons.
When we speak of the length of a curve, we can give a meaning
to our words only by supposing the curve divided into
infinitesimal rectilinear arcs, whose sum gives the length of
an equivalent straight line ; thus, unless we presuppose the
straight line, we have no means of comparing the lengths of
different curves, and can therefore never discover the applic-
ability of our definition. It might be thought, perhaps, that
some other line, say a circle, might be used as the basis of
measurement. But in order to estimate in this way the length
of any curve other than a circle, we should have to divide the
curve into infinitesimal circular arcs. Now two successive
points do not determine a circle, so that an arc of two points
would have an indeterminate length. It is true that, if we
exclude infinitesimal radii for the measuring circles, the lengths
of the infinitesimal arcs would be determinate, even if the
circles varied, but that is only because all the small circular
arcs through two consecutive points coincide with the straight
line through those two points. Thus, even with the help of the
arbitrary restriction to a finite radius, all that happens is that
we are brought back to the straight line. If, to mend matters,
we take three consecutive points of our curve, and reckon
distance by the arc of the circle of curvature, the notion of
distance loses its fundamental property of being a relation
between two points. For two consecutive points of the arc
could not then be said to have any corresponding distance
apart three points would be necessary before the notion of
distance became applicable. Thus the circle is not a possible
basis for measurement, and similar objections apply, of course,
with increased force, to any other curve. All this argument is
designed to show, in detail, the logical impossibility of measuring
distance by any curve not completely defined by the two points
whose distance apart is required. If in the above we had
taken distance as measured by circles of given radius, we should
have introduced into its definition a relation to other points
besides the two whose distance was to be measured, which we
saw to be a logical fallacy. Besides, how are we to know that
all the circles have equal radii, until we have an independent
measure of distance ?
A straight line, then, is not the shortest distance, but it
is simply the distance between two points so far, this conclusion
THE LOGIC OF GEOMETRY. 17
has stood firm. But suppose we had two or more curves
through two points, and that all these curves were congruent
inter se. We should then say, in accordance with the axiom of
Congruence, that the lengths of all these curves were equal.
Now it might happen that, although no one of the curves was
uniquely determined by the two end-points, yet the common
length of all the curves was so determined. In this case, what
would hinder us from calling this common length the distance
apart, although no unique figure in space corresponded to it ?
This is the case contemplated by spherical Geometry, where,
as on a sphere, antipodes can be joined by an infinite number
of geodesies, all of which are of equal length. The difficulty
supposed is, therefore, not a purely imaginary one, but one
which modern Geometry forces us to face. I shall consequently
discuss it at some length.
To begin with, I must point out that my axiom is not quite
equivalent to Euclid's. Euclid's axiom states that two straight
lines cannot enclose a space, i.e. cannot have more than one
common point. Now if every two points, without exception,
determine a unique straight line, it follows, of course, that two
different straight lines can have only one point in common so
far, the two axioms are equivalent. But it may happen, as
in Spherical Space, that two points in general determine a
unique straight line, but fail to do so when they have to
each other the special relation of being antipodes. In such
a system, every pair of straight lines in the same plane meet in
two points, which are each other's antipodes; but two points,
in general, still determine a unique straight line '. We are still
able, therefore, to obtain distances from unique straight lines,
except in limiting cases ; and in such cases, we can take any
point intermediate between the two antipodes, join it by the
same straight line to both antipodes, and measure its distances
from those antipodes in the usual way. The sum of these
distances then gives a unique value for the distance between
the antipodes.
Thus, even in spherical space, we are greatly assisted by the
axiom of the straight line ; all linear measurement is effected
by it, and exceptional cases can be treated, through its help, by
the usual methods for limits. Spherical space, therefore, is not
so adverse as it at first appeared to be to the a priori necessity
of the axiom. Nevertheless we have, so far, not attacked
1 The distinction, in metageometry, between positive and negative
space-constant does not lie, as is generally supposed, in the validity of the
axiom of the straight line. For Klein has shown that in elliptic space,
which also has positive space-constant, the axiom holds without exception.
M. 2
18 B. A. W. RUSSELL :
the kernel of the objection which spherical space suggested.
To this attack it is now our duty to proceed.
It will be remembered that, in our a priori proof that
two points must have one definite relation, we held it impossible
for those two points to have, to the rest of space, any relation
which would be unaltered by motion. Now in spherical space,
in the particular case where the two points are antipodes, they
have a relation, unaltered by motion, to the rest of space the
relation, namely, that their distance is half the circumference of
the universe. In our former discussion, we assumed that any
relation to outside space must be a relation of position and a
relation of position must be altered by motion. But with a
finite space, in which we have absolute magnitude, another
relation becomes possible, namely, a relation of magnitude.
Antipodal points, accordingly, like coincident points, no longer
determine a unique straight line. And it is instructive to
observe that there is, in consequence, an ambiguity in the
expression for distance, like the ordinary ambiguity in angular
measurement. If k be the space-constant, and d be one value
for the distance between two points, 'Zirkn d, where n is any
integer, is an equally good value. Distance is, in short, a
periodic function like angle. Whether or not such a system is
philosophically permissible, I shall consider later for the
present, I am content to point out that such a state of things
rather confirms than destroys my contention that distance
depends on a curve uniquely determined by two points. For as
soon as we drop this unique determination, we see ambiguities
creeping into our expression for distance. Distance still has a
set of discrete values, corresponding to the fact that, given one
point, the straight line is uniquely determined for all other
points but one, the antipodal point. It is tempting to go on,
and say : If through every pair of points there were an infinite
number of the curves used in measuring distance, distance
would be able, for the same pair of points, to take, not only a
discrete series, but an infinite continuous series, of values.
This, however, is mere speculation. I come now to the
piece de resistance of my argument. The ambiguity, in spherical
space, arose, as we saw, from a relation of magnitude to the rest
of space such a relation being unaltered by motion of the two
points, and therefore falling outside our introductory reasoning.
But what is this relation of magnitude ? Simply a relation
of the distance between the two points to a distance given
in the nature of the space in question. It follows that such
a relation presupposes a measure of distance, and need not,
therefore, be contemplated in any argument which deals with
the a priori requisites for the possibility of definite distances.
THE LOGIC OF GEOMETRY. 19
I have now shown, I hope conclusively, that spherical space
affords no objection to the apriority of my axiom. Any two
points have one relation, their distance, which is independent
of the rest of space, and this relation requires, as its measure, a
curve uniquely determined by those two points. I might have
taken the bull by the horns, and said : Two points can have no
relation but what is given by lines which join them, and
therefore, if they have a relation independent of the rest of
space, there must be one line joining them which they com-
pletely determine. Thus James says 1 :
" Just as, in the field of quantity, the relation between two
numbers is another number, so in the field of space the relations
are facts of the same order with the facts they relate.... When
we speak of the relation of direction of two points toward
each other, we mean simply the sensation (?) of the line that
joins the two points together. The line is the relation.... The
relation of position between the top and bottom points of a vertical
line is that line, and nothing else."
If I had been willing to use this doctrine at the beginning,
I might have avoided all discussion. A unique relation between
two points must, in this case, involve a unique line between
them. But it seemed better to avoid a doctrine not universally
accepted, the more so as I was approaching the question from
the logical, not the psychological, side. After disposing of the
objections, however, it is interesting to find this confirmation of
the above theory from so different a standpoint. Indeed, I
believe James's doctrine could be proved to be a logical
necessity, as well as a psychological fact. For what sort of
thing can a spatial relation between two distinct points be ? It
must be something spatial, and it must be something which
somehow bridges the gulf of their disparateness. It must be
something at least as real and tangible as the points it relates,
since we saw that points are wholly constituted by their rela-
tions. There seems nothing which can satisfy all these require-
ments, except a line joining them. Hence, once more, a
unique relation must involve a unique line. That is, linear
magnitude is logically impossible, unless space allows of curves
uniquely determined by any two of their points.
To sum up: If points are defined simply by relations to
other points, i.e. if all position is relative, every point must
have to every other point one, and only one, relation inde-
pendent of the rest of space. This relation is the distance
between the two points. Now a relation between two points
can only be defined by a line joining them nay further, it may
1 Psychology, Vol. n. pp. 149-150.
22
20 B. A. W. EUSSELL:
be contended that a relation can only be a line joining them.
Hence a unique relation involves a unique line, i.e. a line
determined by any two of its points. Only in a space which
admits of such a line is linear magnitude a logically possible
conception. But, when once we have established the possibility,
in general, of drawing such lines, and therefore of measuring
linear magnitudes, we may find that a certain magnitude has a
peculiar relation to the constitution of space. The straight
line may turn out to be of finite length, and in this case
its length will give a certain peculiar linear magnitude, the
space-constant. Two antipodal points, that is, points which
bisect the entire straight line, will then have a relation of
magnitude which, though unaltered by motion, is rendered
peculiar by a certain constant relation to the rest of space.
This peculiarity presupposes a measure of linear magnitude in
general, and cannot therefore upset the apriority of the axiom
of the straight line. But it destroys, for points having the
peculiar antipodal relation to each other, the argument which
proved that the relation between two points could not, since it
was unchanged by motion, have reference to the rest of space.
Thus it is intelligible that, for such special points, the axiom
breaks down, and an infinite number of straight lines are
possible between them ; but unless we had started with
assuming the general validity of the axiom, we could never
have reached a position in which antipodal points could have
been known to be peculiar, or indeed any position which would
enable us to give any definition whatever of particular points.
In connection with the straight line, it will be convenient
to say a few words about the logical conditions of the possibility
of a coordinate system. Much recent Geometry, more especially
that of Cayley and Klein, begins, if I have understood it aright,
by presupposing a coordinate system, without considering
whether the axioms set forth at the start are sufficient to
make such a system possible. I am going to contend, here,
that no system of coordinates can be set up without presup-
posing the straight line as the measure of distance. Cayley
and Klein begin with coordinates, and proceed to define
distance, more or less arbitrarily, as a function of coordinates ;
this is, I think, a logical fallacy, as I shall now attempt to
prove.
In the first place, a point's coordinates constitute a complete
definition of it ; now a point can only be defined, as we have
seen, by its relations to other points, and these relations can
only be defined by means of the straight line. Consequently,
any system of coordinates must involve the straight line, as the
basis of its definitions of points.
THE LOGIC OF GEOMETRY. 21
This a priori argument, however, though I believe it to
be quite sound, is not likely to carry conviction to any one
persuaded of the opposite. Let us, therefore, examine co-
ordinate systems in detail, and show, in each case, their
dependence on the straight line.
We have already seen that the notion of distance involves
the straight line. We cannot, therefore, define our coordinates
in any of the ordinary ways, as the distances from three planes,
lines, points, spheres, or what not. Polar coordinates are
impossible, since waiving the straightness of the radius vector
the length of the radius vector becomes unmeaning. Von
Standt's projective construction 1 proceeds entirely by the help
of straight lines. Triangular coordinates involve not only
angles, which must in the limit be rectilinear, but straight
lines, or at any rate some well-defined curves. Now curves
can only be defined in two ways: either by relation to the
straight line, as e.g. by the curvature at any point, or by purely
analytical equations, which presuppose an intelligible system
of coordinates. What methods remain for assigning these
arbitrary values to different points ? Nay, how are we to
get any estimate of the difference to avoid the more special
notion of distance between two points ? The very notion of a
point has become illusory. When we have a coordinate system,
we may define a point by its three coordinates ; in the absence
of such a system, we may define the notion of point in general
as the intersection of three surfaces or of two curves. Here
we take surfaces and curves as notions which intuition makes
plain, but if we wish them to give us a precise numerical
definition of particular points, we must specify the kind of
surface or curve to be used. Now this, as we have seen, is
only possible when we presuppose either the straight line, or a
coordinate system. It follows that every coordinate system
presupposes the straight line, and is logically impossible with-
out it.
I may point out, as a corollary, that the straight line cannot
be defined as a curve of the first degree, since this involves a
coordinate system. When we have the straight line, it follows
from its definition as a curve determined by two points that
its equation will be of the first degree, but to give this property
as a definition is to put the cart before the horse.
The above discussion has shewn, particularly in treating of
coordinate systems, that points can only be defined by the help
of the straight line. But we have defined the straight line
as a curve determined by two points. Our logic is therefore
1 v. Klein, Nicht-Euklid., I. p. 338 ff.
22 B. A. W. RUSSELL:
circular, and unless an error has crept into our reasoning it
is necessarily circular. This fact is a warning that we have
exhausted the powers of geometrical logic, and must turn for
aid to something more concrete and self-subsistent than geome-
trical space 1 .
Before ending this paper, let us briefly sum up the
argument we have just concluded. Geometry, as we defined it
in the beginning, deals with spatial magnitudes and their
relations, while measurement may be defined as the comparison
of any magnitude with a unit of its own kind. Starting from
these definitions, we saw that all geometry may be regarded as
spatial measurement, mediate or immediate. Accordingly it is
a priori necessary, if Geometry is to be logically possible, that
space should be such as to render possible (subject to the
inevitable errors of observation) accurate and unequivocal
measurement of spatial magnitudes. The whole task of our
chapter has been, accordingly, to find the necessary and
sufficient conditions of such measurement. We found, first,
since spatial magnitudes are given, to begin with, in different
places, that comparison of them will only be possible if they are
unaltered by the motion necessary for superposition. This led
to the Axiom of Free Mobility, which turned out to be
equivalent to the homogeneity of space, or, as it may be called,
the complete relativity of position.
We then saw that position, being relative, must be
defined if it can be defined at all by some definite number
of relations. Each of these relations constitutes a dimension,
so that we obtain the axiom : Space must have a finite integral
number of dimensions.
The above definition of dimensions, as the relations
necessary to define positions, or points, led naturally to the
enquiry : What sort of relations are they which define our
points and constitute our dimensions ? We found that any
relation between two points was measured by nay, actually
1 Throughout the above discussions, I have freely used the postulate of
Infinite Divisibility. This has sometimes been supposed to involve diffi-
culties, though I have never been able to feel their force. Of course the
postulate applies only to the conception of space, not to the intuition as
regards the latter, Hume's contentions as to the minimum sensibile remain
perfectly valid. But the conception of space is that of a continuum, and I
am unable to see how a continuum can be other than infinitely divisible.
Moreover, the very essence of space, as conceived by Geometry, is relativity
and mutual externality of parts, which makes the notion of an atomic unit
of finite extension particularly preposterous. Such a limit to divisibility
is open to the same objections as a boundary to space it assigns a reality
and power to empty space, such as it cannot conceivably have. On this
postulate, therefore, I have no more to say. It seems to me unimpeachable
and wholly a priori.
THE LOGIC OF GEOMETRY. 23
was some curve between those points. We found that our
need of relations adequate to definition could only be satisfied
if two points had, in general, a unique relation, called distance,
defined by a curve which the two points uniquely determined.
This curve is the straight line. In our proof of the necessity
of such a relation, however, we supposed that, so far, we had no
measure of distance ; when the straight line has enabled us to
establish distance for every general point-pair, we may find one
distance bound up in the nature of space. Corresponding to
this distance, the curve defining the relation of a point-pair
may not be unique. This argument, however, only shows a
logical possibility it remains for special mathematics to
discuss when or how it is realized.
With the above axioms, we have, I think, all that is a
priori necessary to the establishment of a Geometry. A
Geometry using no axioms but the above will be wholly a
priori, taking nothing from experience but the one fundamental
property of space, that points and positions have not an
intrinsic, but only a relative nature. This is the quality which
distinguishes space from any other manifold in the colour and
tone-systems, every element has an intrinsic nature, sensa-
tionally given, from which the relations between the elements
are intellectually constructed. In space, on the contrary, the
relations also are sensationally given, and the elements (points)
are never given except as terms in a relation. We may then
state the problem we have been dealing with above in the
following form : Given a manifold in which the elements have
not an intrinsic, but only a relative being, what postulates are
a priori necessary for its exact quantitative treatment ? The
postulates required have turned out, as might have been
expected, to be exactly those which Euclid and the Pangeo-
meters have in common. The axiom of parallels, the three
dimensions, and the axiom of the straight line in the more
special form given by Euclid, have not been found to be
logically inevitable. These, then, may be supposed to derive
their evidence from intuition. Finally, the postulate from
which the whole discussion started, the relativity of position,
made it impossible to avoid circles in our definitions: points
could only be defined by lines, and lines by points. Thus, even
in the a priori part of Geometry, we have a space which cannot
stand by itself, a thing all relations, without any kernel of
thinghood to which the relations can be attached. This forces
us to attempt a resolution of the contradiction by abandoning
the purely geometrical standpoint ; but such an attempt would
fall outside the limits of the present paper, and would only be
possible on the basis of a general metaphysic.
II. SENSE, MEANING AND INTERPRE-
TATION. (I)
BY V. WELBY.
THE drawbacks and even dangers of linguistic ambiguity and
obscurity have always been more or less recognised and deplored,
and most of us have exhorted others and have been ourselves
exhorted to be clear and definite in statement and exposition,
and not to wander from the 'plain meaning' or the 'obvious
sense ' of the words which we might have occasion to use. For
it is undeniable that obscurity or confusion in language, if it does
not betray the same defect in thought, at least tends to create
it. The clearest thinking in the world could hardly fail to
suffer if e.g. an Englishman could only express it in broken
Chinese.
But when we ask what authority is to be appealed to in
order to settle such meaning or sense, and how we are to avoid
ambiguity and obscurity : when we ask how we are always to
be 'clear' for all hearers or readers alike under all circum-
stances : when we ask where we may obtain some training not
only in the difficult art of conveying our own meaning, but also
in that of interpreting the meaning of others : when further we
inquire into the genesis of sign, symbol, mark, emblem, &c. and
would learn how far their ' message ' must always be ambiguous
or may become more adequately representative and more
accurately suggestive, then the only answers as yet obtainable
are strangely meagre and inconsistent. And they can hardly
be otherwise so long as no serious attention, still less study,
is given to the important ideas which we vaguely and almost at
random convey by 'sense,' 'meaning,' and allied terms, or to
that process of ' interpretation ' which might perhaps be held to
include attention, discrimination, perception, interest, inference
and judgment, but is certainly both distinct from, and as
important as, any of these.
The question where the interpreting function begins : where
any stimulus may be said to suggest, indicate or signalise
SENSE, MEANING AND INTERPRETATION. 25
somewhat other than itself, is already to some extent a question
of Meaning, of the sense in which we use the very word. In
one sense, the first thing which the living organism has to do,
beginning even with the plant is to interpret an excitation
and thus to discriminate between the appeals e.g. of food and
danger. The lack of this power is avenged by elimination.
From this point of view, therefore, the problem which every root
as well as the tentacle and even the protozoic surface may be
said to solve is that of ' meaning,' which thus applies in
unbroken gradation and in ever-rising scale of value, from the
lowest moment of life to the highest moment of mind.
But ' meaning,' one of the most important of our conceptions
and indeed that on which the value of all thought necessarily
depends, strangely remains for us a virtually unstudied subject.
We are content to suppose it vaguely equivalent to 'significance'
or to ideas expressed by a long list of so-called synonyms, never
used with any attempt to utilise the distinctions of idea which
they may embody, and which inquiry might show to be of real
value in disentangling the intricacies and avoiding the pitfalls
of philosophic thought. For example, for the purposes of such
inquiry some of the main lines of thought might be tentatively
correlated with the meaning-terms which seem more especially
to belong to them ; and this would at least help us to under-
stand that we are not to demand of any one what more
properly belongs to another.
The following attempt at such a classification is of course
only a suggestion of what is here intended (i.e. meant) :
Philology and Signification
Logic and Import
Science and Sense
Philosophy
> Meaning (or Intent ?)
Poetry [ and Significance
Religion )
It is evident that the questions here opened are too wide to
be adequately dealt with in an Article ; but it may be possible
briefly to suggest the kind of advantage which might accrue
from the direction of attention to this subject.
Signification here represents the value of language itself: it
seems naturally concerned with words and phrases, and is
generally confined to them, although the numerous exceptions
show that the distinction is not clearly recognised.
Import, on the other hand, introduces us to the idea of
' importance ' and marks the intellectual character of the logical
process. When we speak of the import of propositions, we are
thinking of more than bare linguistic value: and we may find
26 V. WELBY:
that to master such 'import' has a real 'importance' with
reference to the subtle dangers of fallacy.
In coupling sense with physical science, three main current
senses of the word should be borne in mind. There must certainly
be some ' sense ' both as meaning and as judgment in observation
and experiment to give them any value whatever, as our use of
'the senseless' testifies, while the word is perhaps freer from
any speculative taint than even 'meaning.' But in another
' sense,' Sense is the inevitable starting-point and ultimate test
of scientific generalisation, and this suggests the question
whether these divers senses of the word 'sense' are inde-
pendent : whether the fact of the one word being used to
convey what are now quite different ideas is merely accidental,
or whether it points to a very close original connection
between the ideas, if not to their actual identity. There seems
at least a strong presumption in favour of the latter alternative :
since the divergence of the senses of ' sense ' has been a com-
paratively recent development and is thus possible to trace.
And we have the authority of Dr Murray 1 , as I believe of
1 I am allowed to quote the following passages from a private letter
from Dr Murray :
"Sensus became in common Romanic senso (retained in Italian,
Portuguese), which again became in French setts. From French we took
sens into English, so spelling it at first ; then, to prevent the final s being
treated as a z as the plurals in pens, hens, dens, it was written sence (as
in fence, hence, defence, offence, &c.), and finally, with the feeling of
keeping it as like the Latin as possible, and thus ' showing the etymology,'
sense Etymologically, semus is the w-stem verbal substantive of sentire,
to discern by the senses, to feel, see, hear, taste, or smell, the general
word expressing the operation of a sense-organ in acquainting us with
external objects. We have no such general word in English, though find,
and feel, have both been and still are extended beyond the faculty of
touch, to include smell, and sometimes taste ; perceive is probably the
nearest English word. But sentire is also extended to the inner or mental
perception, to perceive, be conscious, operate mentally, 'think.' Hence,
sensus meant primarily the operation of one of the bodily senses, the action
or faculty of feeling, smelling, tasting, hearing, seeing, physical perception.
By the (partial) objectivizing of these faculties, it came to mean (2)
what we call 'a sense,' one of the five senses; thus, 'quod neque oculis
neque auribus neque ullo sensu percipi potest ' : what can be perceived
neither by the eyes, nor by the ears, nor by any sense.
Then (3) it meant the act of conscious or mental perception, the per-
ception of the mind or man himself, as effected by the instrumentality of
a bodily sense (as when I feel a body in the dark, and thereby internally
' feel ' or ' perceive ' that some body is present), or of several bodily senses
combined.
Then (4) the action of the mind or inner man generally, thought, feeling
as to things known, opinion, view taken, &c.
Then (5) especially, the common or ordinary feeling or view of hu-
manity in regard to any matter, or to matters in general, the ' common
feeling or sense ' of mankind as to what is true, proper, wise, or the con-
SENSE, MEANING AND INTERPRETATION. 27
philologists in general, for this view. If admitted, the fact is a
pregnant one, as we may see when the subject can be treated
more fully. Here we may perhaps note that the word seems to
give us the link between the sensory, the sensible and the
significant : there is apparently a real connection between the
' sense ' say of sight in which we react to stimulus, and the
' sense ' in which we speak or act.
Meanwhile the idea of significance stands on a different
footing from the other meaning-terms. It will hardly be denied
that it has or may have an implication both of importance and
special interest or value which is completely lacking not only to
' signification,' but also to ' import,' in spite of the verbal connec-
tion of this last with ' importance ; ' and to ' sense ' in spite of its
wider application. We naturally lay stress on the significance of
some fact or event like the French Revolution or the Chino-
Japanese war, when we feel that its ' import,' its ' sense,' even
its ' meaning' are quite inadequate to express its effect on our
minds, while it would not occur to any one to speak of its
' signification.' It has ' significance,' it is ' significant,' because
it indicates, implies, involves, (or may entail) great changes or
momentous issues : because it demands serious attention and, it
may be, decisive action : or because it must modify more or less
profoundly our mental attitude towards the nations or races
affected by it, and towards the problems called social.
This applies still more in the case of the great provinces
of thought we call philosophy, poetry and religion, as the ideas
belonging to these pre-eminently possess that kind of value
best expressed by ' significance.' And if we say that philology
or logic or physical science may also claim significance, it is
in virtue of these ' knowledges ' possessing some at least of the
trary. In this, an individual man may share more or less largely, and is
said to have more or less sense accordingly : the justifiable assumption
being that 'the great soul of mankind is just,' and that consequently the
more a man is a man of sense, i.e. possessed of a large share of the common
feeling, views, or sense of humanity, the more he is to be valued.
But (6) the feeling, view, or thought, that a man or men have in regard
to anything, is expressible in words : the words convey the sense of the
speaker: we gather his sense from his words, and naturally call it the
sense of the words, i.e. the sense conveyed by the words (as we call the
water conveyed by an aqueduct ' aqueduct water,' or a letter conveyed by
a ship ' a ship letter '). Hence the meaning expressed by any sentence is
its sense ; and by very natural and necessary extension the meaning
expressed by any. single word is its sense. This was fully developed
already by the late Latin grammarians and rhetoricians : thus Quintilian,
'verba duos sensus significantia' = (ambiguous) words expressing two senses
or meanings. It is hardly popular or plebeian English yet : the man in
the street would speak of the sense of a sentence or statement, but usually
of the meaning of a single word. But he might in reference to a badly
written word say he 'could make no sense of it."'
28 V. WELBY:
higher value which the word has come to imply : it is in virtue
of their special emotional or moral interest either for all
intelligent minds or for special groups of these.
Besides the sense-terms already instanced, there are of course
many others. We have purport, reference, acceptation, bearing,
indication, implication: we speak of expressing, symbolising,
standing for, marking out, signalising, designating, suggesting,
betokening, portending : words or phrases (and also gestures or
actions) are intelligible, descriptive, definitive, emblematic:
they are used to this 'effect,' to that 'purpose,' in this 'sense,'
or in that ' intent.' All these and many others come in ordinary
usage under the general term ' meaning': it remains to consider
the claim of Meaning to cover more ground than Sense, and to
stand therefore for all those conceptions which are expressed by
the words commonly used as its synonyms. In the first place
we must not forget that import (or purport) is really the
secondary sense of the word Meaning : and that when we say
we ' mean ' to do this and that (i.e. we intend to do it) we are
using it in its primary sense. It therefore becomes, like the
various senses of ' sense,' an interesting subject for inquiry how
the idea of intention has here given way to the idea of sense ;
because there certainly does not seem at first sight to be any
close connection between the ' intention ' which implies volition
and looks to the future, and the ' meaning ' which has no direct
reference to either. On the other hand, when we say ' it is my
intention to do this or that ' we may use as an alternative ' it is
my purpose to do it ' : and does not that bring us to a teleo-
logical value ? If so, may the link be found in the idea of End ?
If we organise some expedition and charter means of transport
and supplies, our meaning in all this is the furtherance of the
object of such expedition : all our actions have reference to this
end, which is the point and only ' sense ' of our exertions.
We have thus linked Intention, Meaning and End. The
fact that Meaning includes Intention and End seems to indicate
that it is the most general term we have for the value of a
sign, symbol, or mark. And yet it is precisely Meaning which
has given rise to the denotative v. connotative controversy and
which some logicians would deny to the 'proper name.' Of
this it need only at present be remarked that if the latter view
is to prevail, the logical use in narrowing the sense of ' meaning '
will traverse the popular one, thus tending to create confusion
unless we can bring another term into use in its place ; while it
would seem that all needed purpose would be served by
admitting that the proper name, being a sign, is literally signi-
ficant, i.e. has meaning, but is neither descriptive nor definable.
What exactly then is the point to which I am venturing to
SENSE, MEANING AND INTERPRETATION. 29
call the attention of scholars, thinkers, teachers? The very
fact of the need and the lack of this attention makes a succinct
answer which shall really be an answer, difficult if not even
impossible. But we may provisionally express it as being, in
the first place, the universal and strange neglect to master and
teach the conditions of what is called, as vaguely in scientific as
in philosophical writing, Sense, Meaning, Import, Significance,
etc. with the conditions of its Interpretation, and in the second
place the advantages, direct and indirect, present and future, of
a systematic inquiry into the subject, and of its introduction
from the first into all mental training.
This is emphatically more than a merely linguistic question,
and it has more than even a logical or psychological value.
But even if this were doubted, no one would deny that modes of
expression tend both to reveal and to modify modes of thought;
and this must be especially true in any attempt to make
language express more perfectly, and thus enable thought to
signify more and to interpret more. From this point of view
we ought properly therefore to begin our quest from the
linguistic stand-point, since a word qud word is a meaning-sign,
and thus the so-called question of words is really a question of
sense. It is not too much to say, though the fact seems little
realised, that it is largely through the very instinct which
prompts even the most futile 'verbal' dispute that language
has gained that degree of efficiency which it already possesses.
But it seems impossible here to enter satisfactorily upon this
side of the question, which must thus wait for a more general
recognition of the importance of the whole subject.
To take an instance of the increased power of discrimination
which we might hope to gain if attention could be effectually
roused on this subject, we may point to the many derivative
forms of (bodily) sense, all of which are in fact used with
consistency and clearness. We have e.g. the sensory, the sensible,
the sensuous, the sensual, the sensitive; but all these have
exclusive reference to the feeling-sense of sense 1 . Again, we
1 It is difficult for the student of meaning-sense not to look with an
envious eye at the wealth of idea which the organic-sense derivatives
enable us to express with such precision. But for the increased confusion
which a double usage would entail, we might gladly avail ourselves of the
whole list, for they would immensely facilitate the discussion of questions
of meaning-sense. At least however we might be allowed to coin a new
derivative and speak of 'sensal' where we often now speak of 'verbal'
questions, to the loss of a valuable distinction. For the use of ' verbal '
ought surely to be confined to the spheres of philology or literary style,
whereas 'sensal' would mark the difference between mere 'sense' (as
meaning) and ' reality ' e.g. when we speak of the 'real ' question at issue as
distinct from the 'verbal,' we constantly mean, distinct from the 'sensal.'
30 V. WELBY :
have a different set of words for each special sense. We listen
and hear, we glance, behold and stare, gaze and see ; we touch
and feel, etc. Now suppose that our sense-words were all used
indifferently, and that we made no effort to remedy this,
insisting when complaint was made that context determined
quite well enough whether we meant sight or hearing or touch.
In both these cases the loss of distinction would be a serious
one. Yet in its meaning as significance, Sense is in fact
credited with a number of synonyms, which we use simply at
pleasure and only with reference to literary considerations
instead of as valuable discriminatives, while no derivatives at
all comparable with those from sense exist, from any word
which stands for meaning. What is the consequence ? That
our speech is so far less significant than it might be : we fail to
recognise what a wealth of significance lies in the idea of
meaning itself, or how much depends upon the development of
its applications. What after all is the moral basis of speech-
life, of articulate communion? Significance and lucidity.
These are not merely accomplishments, they are ethically
valuable. We owe it to our fellows to assimilate truth and to
convey it to them unalloyed by needless rubbish of the sense-
less, the meaningless, the confused and the contradictory. It
is our distinct duty to study the causes, to provide against the
dangers, and to realise the true significance of ambiguity, a
point to which I shall hope to return later. But we find in
serious discussion only too much witness to the absence of any
cultivated sense either of the urgent need of conscientious,
even scrupulous consistency in expression or of the importance
of preserving the plasticity of language. Such a sense ought
to be as delicate and as imperative as that of honour and
honesty. We recognise that it is essential to good poetry that
epithet and metaphor should be exquisitely chosen, should be
delicately apposite, bringing us faithfully the picture or the
emotion the poet wished for. But this is even more important
when the result is to be not merely the highest delight but the
most far-reaching and radical effect on knowledge. It is but
seldom that a poet's metaphor or epithet can affect the whole
outlook of generations to come, or will introduce permanent
intellectual confusion. But when a philosophical or scientific
writer uses metaphors or special epithets, they are intended to
enforce some supposed truth or to convey fact often of crucial
importance. It is therefore hardly far-fetched to appeal to the
moral aspect of the question and to speak of developing a
linguistic conscience. As it is, school-books abound with
instances of the vagueness of our ideas of sense or meaning.
We find, e.g. in an elementary text-book of Algebra : what is
SENSE, MEANING AND INTERPRETATION. 31
the meaning = what is indicated = what is denoted ; and are
indiscriminately told to interpret, translate and express,
apparently only with the object of avoiding tautology.
One difficulty with which we are thus brought face to face is
this : how are we to secure a word for the act or process which
has been so much overlooked that we have not yet even
acquired a means of expressing it ? A given excitation
suggests what is not itself and thus becomes a Sign and
acquires Sense. What are we to call the act of ascribing,
attributing, assigning to, bestowing or imposing upon, the
sensation or impression or object, the sense or meaning, which
constitutes its ' sign-hood ' ? Is the process a ' referential ' one ?
Though Signification as the 'signifying act' would bear the
sense above proposed for it, it has the serious disadvantage of
being already appropriated to another use. In the absence of
anything better I would therefore venture here to speak of the
act or process of sensifying. It is true that 'to sensify' must
share the uncertainty of reference which belongs to sense itself.
It might mean e.g. the attributing of our ' senses ' to a tree or
rock, which we suppose to hear, feel, see, etc. like ourselves.
But as there is apparently no word which is free from all
established associations, we may perhaps be allowed to use
' sensification ' for that fundamental tendency to ' assign sense '
and 'give meaning' without which Attention, Imitation and
even Adaptation itself would either not exist or would be
deprived of all their practical value. For the lowest forms of
response to excitation or reaction to stimulus only become
useful, only become means of physical and mental rise in scale,
in so far as they attach some ' meaning ' to that which affects
them, and thus foster the development of the discriminating
function.
It must however be obvious by now that what we are
considering is the need not merely of substituting one word for
another, not merely of more precise definition or even of more
accurate or consistent usage in expression, but of a profound
change in mental perspective which must affect every form of
thought and may indeed in time add indefinitely to its
capacity. If we get this increased power both of signifying
and of apprehending or understanding Significance, we might
hope for a general agreement as to the possibility of expanding
the present limits of valid speculation. Thought might well
attain the power to overpass these boundaries with the most
indisputably profitable result. There would be less danger of
wasting thought and time on plausible but fruitless inquiry.
Indeed one is almost tempted to ask whether the per-
emptory stress laid by modern science on the futility of
32 V. WELBY:
attempts to overleap assumed mental barriers, may not be fully
justified as in fact owing to an obscure instinctive sense that as
yet thought is only reliable within these frontiers, as the lack
of philosophical consensus seems to indicate ; while on the
other hand the tendency of the speculative mind to explore
outlying regions, is in its turn due to an obscure impulse which
is equally justified as really predictive. At present, it is true,
such regions cannot be opened up for full colonization. Before
the pioneer can hope to bring back the necessary information
for the future colonist, he needs to be specially equipped for his
task, and to have gone through a training which shall tend to
heighten his natural powers of observation and inference. And
we must not be misled by the popular notion that only a few of
us can or may take up the vocation of a pioneer. As a matter
of fact every one of us is in one sense a born explorer : our only
choice is what world we will explore, our only doubt whether
our exploration will be worth the trouble. From our earliest
infancy we obey this law. And the idlest of us wonders : the
stupidest of us stares : the most ignorant of us feels curiosity:
while the thief actively explores his neighbour's pocket or
breaks into the 'world' of his neighbour's house and plate-
closet.
But the mental pioneer needs equipment, and it must be
adequately provided in his training. The child's natural
demand for the meaning of, as well as the reason for everything
that he sees or that happens, is the best of all materials to
work upon. He at least wants all that the richest vocabulary
of meaning can give us. Just as every fresh acquirement of
feeling-sense interests and excites him : just as he runs to us
with the eager account of what he now finds he can detect by
his eye or his ear or his finger : just as the exploring instinct
develops in forms even sometimes trying to his elders, so it
would be if the growth of the meaning-sense were stimulated
and cultivated. And the thirst for exploring the inside of our
watches might be diverted into the useful channel of exploring
their 'meaning,' or rather the different kinds of value they
had, or the different senses in which they were valuable. Thus
he would arrive at the meaning of one objection to their
dissection, and everywhere would acquire fresh occasions for
triumphant appeals to our admiration of his discoveries.
Beginning in the simplest and most graphic form : taking
advantage of the child's sense of fun as well as of his endless
store of interest and curiosity, it ought to be easy to make
' signifies ' or ' sensifics ' the most attractive of studies. Follow-
ing the physiological order, it would become the natural
introduction to all other studies, while it would accompany
SENSE, MEANING AND INTERPRETATION. 33
them into their highest developments; clearing and illumi-
nating everything it touched, giving us a self-acting consensus
where as yet that seems most hopeless, and suggesting, if not
providing, solutions to some of the most apparently insoluble of
problems.
Here then, if I am right, would be the gain. The area of
confusion, misunderstanding and dispute would be continually
shrinking, and the area of really significant expression and
intelligent assent constantly expanding, the limits of consensus
enlarging with it. The adaptation of language to growing
complexity of experience and to continually developing need
would become, like that of the organism, more and more
adequate : while correspondence or at least mutual recog-
nition in usage, would become compatible with endless variety
in application and implication : a variety all the more possible
because we had at last begun to realise in earnest the lesson
which in one form begins with life and in another ends only
with experience, the lesson of Interpretation.
In his Essentials of Logic lectures expressly intended for
the elementary student Mr Bosanquet complains (p. 99) that
the commonest mistakes in the work of beginners within his
experience as a teacher " consist in failure to interpret rightly
the sentences given for analysis." A much wider bearing, it
seems to me, might be given to this remark. It surely applies
to the whole field of mental activity. But can we wonder at
any kind of failure to interpret, when we realise that the
unhappy ' beginner' has never, unless incidentally or indirectly,
been trained to interpret at all, or even to understand clearly
what interpretation as distinguished e.g. from judgment or
inference or bare perception really is?
Various objections may here suggest themselves. The
principal ones may perhaps be summed up as (1) that there is
no need for such a study as we are pleading for, since the
subject is already dealt with in various connections and is
implied in all sound educational methods: and (2) that its
introduction would be impossible, and even if not impossible
would be undesirable, as tending to foster pedantry and shackle
thought.
The answer to the first of these objections is of course
largely a matter of evidence, and of inference from admitted
facts. The unexpected and startling conclusions to which a
careful investigation of the present state of things has led me,
require, I am well aware, the most irrefragable witness to
sustain them. Before attempting to deal with this evidence
even in the too brief form alone possible within our present
limits and thus at least to indicate the answer required I
M. 3
34 V. WELBY :
would lay stress upon two points : first, that the ablest of
thinkers, speakers and writers is now at the mercy of students,
hearers, and readers, who have never been definitely trained to
be significant or lucid or interpretative, and who are therefore
liable to read their own confusion of mind on the subject of
meaning into the clearest exposition : and, secondly, that where
inconsistency or ambiguity may seem to occur even in first-rate
writing, it goes to prove that .the highest and most thoroughly
trained ability does not escape the disastrous effects of com-
parative indifference to questions of meaning from which all
alike inevitably suffer, and for which I am venturing to bespeak
special attention.
Bearing this in mind, I may perhaps be allowed to bring
forward a few instances taken from logical and psychological
sources tending to show how great is the need of such special
attention and how little is yet given to it except in an incidental
or fragmentary way: although indications of a growing im-
patience of current confusions and a growing sense of their
danger are not wanting.
In the case of the logical use of 'sense' or 'meaning,' etc. it
is no doubt necessary to draw a distinction between the technical
terms of logic and those which it borrows from ordinary lan-
guage. It may be said that when the formal logician employs
technical terms like intension, connotation, comprehension,
extension, denotation, he is bound to give a careful and precise
analysis of the sense in which he uses these terms; whereas
meaning, sense, etc. not being used as technical terms, need
neither be formally differentiated nor made strictly synonymous,
since they must always be interpreted by their context. But
in the first place, as Dr Keynes and others impress upon us,
logic takes no cognizance of context ; and in the second I would
myself earnestly deprecate either the sacrifice of valuable dis-
tinctions by making these and allied terms "strictly synonymous,"
or such a differentiation of their value as would diminish
necessary elasticity, or preclude further modification in their
use. Words like premiss, conclusion, postulate, equation, pro-
position : like real, verbal, positive, negative, relative, simple,
complex, are borrowed from ordinary discourse, and are as a rule
used in Logic with almost punctilious consistency. It is only
when we get to the meaning-terms that we are left to gather as
best we may their valid use and application, not merely in
Formal Logic technically so called, but also in the discussion of
those wider generalizations of the nature and conditions of valid
thinking which lead on from Logic proper to Epistemology.
As yet we are often left to gauge their value and their scope by
a context which itself is often necessarily a severe tax on the
SENSE, MEANING AND INTERPRETATION. 35
student's attention and power of 'interpretation,' just because
of the closeness of the reasoning employed and the dryness and
abstraction of the subject.
But there are signs that this will not much longer be the
case.
In Mr W. E. Johnson's Notice in Mind 1 of Dr Keynes's 3rd
edition of his Formal Logic he cites a number of additions and
even special chapters as pointing to " the growing importance
of questions dealing with what is called the import of proposi-
tions in view of recent controversies" (p. 240).
Technical distinctions in this, already emphasised, are more
minutely applied. A fresh term, Exemplification, is introduced,
leading to interesting results and throwing needed light on
" the mutual relations between extension and intension" (p. 242).
Mr Johnson points out that controversies connected with the
" so-called import of propositions" are largely due to " Confusion
between three distinct meanings of the term import. These
may be called the formulation, the interpretation and the fun-
damental analysis of propositions."
The ' interpretation' here is what concerns us most ; and by
this is meant " the assignment of the precise degree and amount
of significance to be attached to it." This is a definite step
gained : but we still want to be clear whether, to the logician,
significance = signification ; or whether the difference of termi-
nation may not indicate a distinction of logical as well as
general value. As "Ordinary language is often ambiguous,"
there is " need of interpreting " (italics Mr Johnson's) " any
given form of words. Moreover in the process of reducing
propositions to new forms, the logician may unwittingly put
more or less of significance into the proposition than it origin-
ally bore " (p. 243).
But here and in the following passages ' significance ' is used
where there is none of that element which 'significance' can
alone suggest, and where it would seem that some other word
would give adequately and in fact more accurately the 'sense'
intended. Might it not conduce to clearness if the use of
' significance ' were discontinued in Formal Logic ? However,
the main point is that distinct stress is here laid, for the first
time, on questions of interpretation, as well as of formulation
and fundamental analysis; and these especially with reference
to Import itself. Developments may thus be hopefully looked
for.
In Dr Keynes's own work (3rd edition) I will venture to take
one illustration of the point now under consideration.
1 April, 1895.
32
36 V. WELBY :
In the exercises at the end of Chapter VII. (Part II.) the
student is directed to " assign precisely the meaning of" an
assertion, and to " examine carefully the meaning to be attached
to" a denial (p. 210). But he may surely ask which of the
many interpretations of 'meaning' he is to adopt here. To
refer only to pp. 160 5, we may choose for ' meaning' any of
the various ' senses,' intention, signification, connotation, appli-
cation, import, purport, implication. Of a certain inference also
it is said (p. 164) that "this would mean" (i.e. involve) the
introduction of certain symbols. Ordinary logical doctrine,
Dr Keynes reminds us, " should not depart more than can be
helped from the forms of ordinary speech" (p. 165). But how
confused these often are is illustrated by this very sentence ; as
the 'meaning' obviously is "more than cannot be hindered"
(or strictly, 'avoided'). "Make no more noise than you can
help" is of course "make no more noise than you cannot
avoid making." Such an instance forcibly illustrates Dr
Keynes's contention that " it is obviously of importance to the
logician to clear up all ambiguities and ellipses of language"
(p. 168).
In a Manual for use by students, Mr Welton tells us that
" Generalisation extends the application of words and so lessens their
fixed meaning, and thus allows the same word to have different senses "
(p. 13). A word may thus " call up very different ideas in different minds,
or in the same mind at different times. Such terms are particularly
unsuited to scientific discussion, and when they are used in it they invari-
ably lead to misunderstanding and dispute" (p. 14).
Is 'idea' here a synonym of sense? Are application and
sense convertible terms ? Are not these words, thus left un-
defined, themselves " unsuited to scientific discussion" as tending
to confusion ? He takes the view that " An individual name
may be a mere verbal sign devoid of meaning Proper
names... can only suggest, not imply, and are therefore in
themselves unmeaning " (pp. 62 3). (Italics my own.)
This distinction, we are assured, is of fundamental import-
ance, and, through overlooking it, Jevons, Bradley and other
logicians take the opposite view. But how comes it that
logicians of such acumen and eminence 'overlook' a point of
such importance ? What hinders consensus ? And what is the
student to gather from all this ? For instance, is he to conclude
that the suggestive may be the unmeaning ?
Dr Venn 1 writes with reference to convertible terms, " Even
if we can find two which strictly mean the same thing, that is,
which apply to exactly the same object or class, there are sure
1 Empirical Logic.
SENSE, MEANING AND INTERPRETATION. 37
to be differences amongst the many associations which cluster
about them and blend with the true meaning " (p. 43).
Here to mean and to apply are used as synonymous. But
presently we read of " Two aspects under which a name may be
viewed. These are respectively its meaning and its range of
application characteristics which it is meant to imply and
objects to which it is found to apply The more meaning we
insist upon putting into a name the fewer the objects to
which that name will be appropriate ; the less the meaning
contained, the wider will be the range of application of the
name " (p. 174).
Is this "logical consistency"? How can we hope for it in
the case of terms like 'meaning' until the ideas which they
stand for have been carefully analysed ? At present they seem
marked out for loose usage even among the most accurate of
writers.
But if, with Prof. Adamson, we are to admit that we cannot
yet define even the exact status or province of Logic itself,
since it is sometimes treated as an abstract science, sometimes
as a subordinate branch of one, sometimes as a nondescript
receptacle for formulations of method, it may be unreasonable
to expect much from the present point of view until the various
meanings of the term Logic are more clearly differentiated and
more universally accepted. At present, as he says,
"The diversity in mode of treatment is so great that it would be
impossible to select by comparison and criticism a certain body of
theorems and methods, and assign to them the title of logic In tone,
in method, in aim, in fundamental principles, in extent of field, they
diverge so widely as to appear, not so many different expositions of the
same science, but so many different sciences. In short, looking to the
chaotic state of logical text-books at the present time, one would be
inclined to say that there does not exist anywhere a recognised, currently
received body of speculations to which the title logic can be unambiguously
assigned, and that we must therefore resign the hope of attaining by any
empirical consideration of the received doctrine a precise determination of
the nature and limits of logical theory V
If we can gain a classification of meaning-sense itself, not
merely as wide or narrow, direct or indirect, but as applicative,
implicative, acceptative, indicative, &c., it must in some degree
help towards more clearly determining, discriminating and re-
lating the senses in which we may legitimately apply an all-
important term like Logic : and would thus enable the true
distinctions within such a concept to be definitely and consist-
ently utilised, while fallacious or misleading uses would tend to
expose and condemn themselves.
1 " Logic" (Encyc. Brit.).
Ill LOCKE'S THEORY OF MATHEMATICAL
KNOWLEDGE AND OF A POSSIBLE SCIENCE
OF ETHICS.
BY JAMES GIBSON.
THE aim of the following paper is purely historical. I do not
propose either to criticise the explanation which Locke gives of
mathematical knowledge, or to dwell upon the obvious futility
of the analogy which he seeks to establish between the
subject-matters and methods of Mathematics and Ethics ; but
to endeavour to ascertain what Locke's theory on the subject
really was, and the relation in which his theory stands to the
previous development of thought in England. This purpose
will, I think, be most readily attained if we consider first the
theory of the Essay. Having ascertained the nature of Locke's
own theory, we shall be better able to appreciate the significance
of its historical antecedents than we should be if we followed
the historical order.
Beginning then with the theory of Locke, we must notice
first the extent to which his general conception of knowledge is
dominated by the mathematical sciences which had made such
enormous advance in his age. Those mathematical demonstra-
tions, which, as he says, " like diamonds are hard as well as
clear," excited his intense admiration, and formed the standard
by which he tested the other departments of science and found
them wanting. His theory of knowledge is as essentially a
mathematical one as that of Descartes. Indeed, in some
respects, his general theory is more deserving of the term
mathematical, and his account of our knowledge of mathematics
is superior to that of the professed mathematician. Descartes
was so impressed by the universality of application of the
analytical method, that he tended to represent mathematical
demonstrations as entirely a matter of logic, (not, it is true, of
the purely analytical logic of the Aristotelians) and to overlook
the necessity of that appeal to intuition which lies behind every
proposition in mathematics. Now, though the functions of
intuition and thought are as little distinguished by Locke as by
LOCKE'S THEORY OF MATHEMATICAL KNOWLEDGE &C. 39
Descartes, the role played by intuition in his theory is in
reality much larger. The geometry of Euclid, with its frequent
appeal to the ideal superposition of one figure upon another,
comprised all the mathematics with which he was thoroughly
familiar, and coloured his whole view of mathematical and
other knowledge. For he failed to observe that this method
of superposition is not applicable beyond the region of geometry.
Accordingly, the "juxtaposition" of ideas and "application" of
ideas to one another, become terms of constant occurrence in
his account of our knowledge of the relations of ideas, which
yet, he holds, is not necessarily confined to mathematics ; and
where this juxtaposition and application cannot be immediately
made, we are told to look for "a common measure" of our ideas.
The whole process of reasoning is resolved into the search for,
and employment of, such common measures. Thus, we are
told, "the principal act of ratiocination is the finding the
agreement or disagreement of two ideas one with another by
the intervention of a third: as a man by a yard finds two
houses to be of the same length, which could not be brought
together to measure their equality of juxtaposition 1 ."
Locke's general conception of knowledge being thus governed
by mathematical analogies, we are prepared to find him deny
that there is anything in the conception of Quantity, which
renders it in any peculiar way susceptible of scientific
treatment. The unique position of mathematical knowledge
was however apparent to him, and when he comes to consider
why it is that Mathematics is the only branch of knowledge
which has been developed into a truly scientific form, and in
particular why it has so far outstripped what he regards as a
possible demonstrative science of Ethics, its special character-
istics do to some extent force themselves upon his attention.
It must be remembered, however, that the passage we are
about to examine is not intended by him to limit that
demonstrative knowledge, which he always describes by geo-
metrical analogies, to the region of mathematics; but is put
forward as an explanation why this limitation has been errone-
ously thought to exist.
"The reason why it" (i.e. demonstration) "has been generally
sought for and supposed to be only in those," (i.e. the mathe-
matical sciences) "I imagine has been not only the general
usefulness of those sciences, but because, in comparing their
equality or excess, the modes of numbers have every the least
difference very clear and perceivable : and though in extension
every the least excess is not so perceptible, yet the mind has
* Bk iv. Ch. xvii. 18.
40 JAMES GIBSON :
found out ways to examine and discover demonstratively the
just equality of two angles, or extensions, or figures ; and both
of these, i.e. numbers and figures, can be set down by visible
and lasting marks wherein the ideas under consideration are
perfectly determined; which for the most part they are not,
where they are marked only by names and words 1 ."
The demonstrative character of the science of number is
here attributed primarily to the discreteness of its subject-
matter, in consequence of which every one of the modes of
number is easily distinguishable from every other*. With
regard to the elementary propositions of arithmetic we obtain
no information beyond the bare assertion that the relations
expressed by them are immediately "perceived." Like Kant,
Locke is inclined to pass too lightly over the case of Arithmetic.
This tendency is still more apparent when we ask what part is
played in arithmetic by those " visible and lasting marks " of
which he speaks in the concluding clause of the sentence. The
only marks which could " perfectly determine " our ideas of
number would be the concrete representations of the numbers
by so many strokes or points; yet, from his subsequent references
to the subject, the conventional numerical characters appear to
be all that is really in his mind.
With regard to the " ways " which the mind has found out
for proving equality in extension there is a little difficulty. As
the passage stands, we seem to have only a repetition of the
fact to be explained, viz., that in geometry " ways " have been
discovered which enable us to demonstrate the connections of
the ideas concerned, while in the other sciences which are
held to be equally capable of demonstration no such " ways "
have yet been found. By these "ways," however, we must
suppose him to mean (principally at least, for the services of
Algebra in the new analytic geometry were also in his mind),
the method of ideal superposition. He refers to them im-
mediately afterwards as "ways to measure"; but to suppose
that the empirical measurements of actual figures was what he
intended, would be inconsistent with his whole view of the
mathematical sciences.
The possibility of representing our geometrical ideas in
" visible and lasting marks," is that which seems to bring him
nearest to the explicit recognition of the intuitive character of
1 Bk iv. Ch. ii. 10.
2 Cf. Bk ii. Ch. xvi. 3. " The simple modes of number are of all other
the most distinct ; every the least variation which is an unit, making
each combination as clearly different from that which approacheth nearest
to it, as the most remote; two being as distinct from one as two hundred....
This is not so in other simple modes."
LOCKE'S THEORY OF MATHEMATICAL KNOWLEDGE &C. 41
the science ; and from the manner in which he treats these
marks we shall best learn to what extent he was conscious of
the distinction. What, then, were the functions attributed by
Locke to the diagram in geometry ? Further on in the Essay
he repeats and expands his view on the subject. " That which,
in this respect, has given the advantage to the ideas of quantity,
and made them thought more capable of certainty and demon-
stration, is, first, that they can be set down and represented by
sensible marks, which have a greater and nearer correspondence
with them than any words or sounds whatsoever. Diagrams
drawn on paper are copies of ideas in the mind, and not liable
to the uncertainty which words carry in their signification. An
angle, circle, or square, drawn in lines, lies open to the view,
and cannot be mistaken : it remains unchangeable, and may at
leisure be considered and examined, and the demonstration be
revised, and all the parts of it may be gone over more than
once, without any danger of the least change in the ideas 1 ."
From this it would appear that the only advantage which he
conceived geometry to possess, from the possibility of the
sensible intuition of its ideas in space, is that the diagram
keeps the same idea before the mind, and prevents misun-
derstanding in the communication of geometrical demon-
strations. As he tells us elsewhere, the use of the diagram to
the geometrician is "steadily to suggest to his mind those
several ideas he would make use of in that demonstration 2 ."
In a word, it is not the intuitive character of the diagram, but
its objective constancy upon which he lays stress. The mark is
" visible " to all and " lasting." The diagram is only a superior
substitute for the name, or arbitrary sign, and it is only " for
the most part " that our ideas are not " perfectly determined "
when they are " marked only by names and words 3 ."
Our mathematical knowledge in fact still remains merged
for Locke in our general knowledge of the relations of ideas.
In the figure employed by the geometrician in his demon-
strations, which, while in its existence particular, is yet thought
by him as universal, intuition and thought, the particular and
the universal are found united ; and this is taken by Locke as
his general type of knowledge. Accordingly Locke holds that
this species of knowledge by means of the intuition of relations
between ideas is not confined to the region of mathematics.
We can have this mathematical certainty in other subjects
besides mathematics. Take, for instance, the principle of
causality. " Everything that has a beginning must have a
cause, is a true principle of reason, or a proposition certainly
1 Bk iv. Ch. iii. 19. 2 First Letter to the Bishop of Worcester.
3 Bk iv. Ch. ii. 10.
42 JAMES GIBSON:
true ; which we come to know by the same way, i.e. by
contemplating our ideas, and perceiving that the idea of
beginning to be, is necessarily connected with the idea of some
operation ; and the idea of operation with the idea of something
operating, which we call a cause ; and so the beginning to be,
is perceived to agree with the idea of a cause, as is expressed
in the proposition 1 ." And similarly, though he cannot discover
what it is in itself, he never has any hesitation in affirming
that phenomena imply some unknown basis as their support,
because "we cannot conceive how modes or accidents can
subsist by themselves 2 ."
But when we seek to proceed beyond these general principles
to their application, a great contrast presents itself between our
physical and mathematical knowledge, into the meaning of
which we must now enquire. The preeminence of mathe-
matics, according to Locke, rests upon its purely ideal character,
which seems at first sight to relegate it to the region of those
" fictions at pleasure " which have no foothold in reality. Our
mathematical ideas are formed "without patterns or reference
to any real existence 3 ," yet the knowledge they furnish is "real."
How, now, does Locke reconcile these positions ?
In the first place, we may observe that the objective reality
of space itself is always regarded by Locke as guaranteed by
the "simplicity" of the idea, which consequently we cannot
have made for ourselves. The geometer, however, is not
concerned with space itself as a whole, but with the properties
of figures in space. And these figures are not merely ideas but
ideals. He proves propositions, for instance, which are only
true of the perfect rectangle or the perfect circle, and yet, " it
is possible he never found either of these existing mathe-
matically, i.e., precisely true, in his life 4 ." The knowledge thus
gained, Locke tells us, is "true and certain even of real things
existing : because real things are no farther concerned, nor
intended to be meant by any such propositions, than as things
really agree to those archetypes in his mind 5 ." But, it may
be asked, could we not justify on similar grounds the reality of
any "insignificant chimaeras of the brain," or the dreams of
a Ghost-seer ? This is an objection which Locke himself en-
deavours to meet. Though we need not wait to find an
actually existing perfect circle, before pronouncing our geo-
metrical knowledge of the circle "real," we must, he holds,
be able to show its real possibility. It is necessary for the
reality of the science that our mathematical ideas should be
1 First Letter to the Bishop of Worcester. 2 Loc. cit.
3 Bk n. Ch. v. 3. 4 Bk iv. Ch. iv. 6.
5 Bk rv. Ch. iv. 6.
LOCKE'S THEORY OF MATHEMATICAL KNOWLEDGE &C. 43
" so framed that there be a possibility of existing conformable
to them 1 ." Elsewhere we read that propositions only " contain
real truth when these signs (i.e. words) are joined as our ideas
agree ; and when our ideas are such as we know are capable of
having an existence in Nature 2 ."
The question then arises, how can we show the real possi-
bility of these ideas apart from experience, and know that the
workmanship of the mind is capable of a real existence ? Locke's
answer would seem to be that we can do so when our knowledge
of the idea and its implications is perfect; when, so to say,
the idea is quite transparent to intelligence. Our ideas of
geometrical figures, he holds, are so complete and self-contained
that we can be sure that when there is no inconsistency in the
idea there can be none in reality. We know a circle or triangle
through and through without any perplexing remainder. The
mind, he tells us, "does not conceive that any understanding
hath, or can have, a more complete or perfect idea of that thing
it signifies by the word 'triangle/ supposing it to exist, than
itself has in that complex idea of three sides and three angles ;
in which is contained all that is or can be essential to it, or
necessary to complete it, wherever or however it exists 3 ."
And the presupposition which underlies Locke's theory is that
when our ideas are thus perfect and complete, the absence
of inconsistency in the idea carries with it of necessity the
absence of inconsistency in reality. Without this rationalistic
assumption his whole argument would fall to pieces.
We must, however, examine more closely the opposition
which Locke discovers between the subject-matters of Mathe-
matics and the physical sciences, as a consequence of which we
are able to attain to a knowledge of the former which is at once
universal and real, while in respect of the latter our assertions
can only become universal at the expense of becoming verbal or
trifling. The implications of his conception of mathematical
knowledge are most clearly revealed in the difficulties which
he finds in the way of a scientific knowledge of substances.
For this purpose it will be necessary to consider briefly
the meaning which the terms "real" and "reality" have
for Locke, about which there is, I think, a good deal of
current misconception. At the back of Locke's thought there
lies a metaphysical theory, never explicitly enunciated, indeed,
because to formulate metaphysical theories was not the purpose
of the Essay, but assumed throughout as something beyond
questioning. According to this theory, reality consists of a
number of self- subsisting entities or substances. Everything
1 Bk II. Ch. xxx. 4. 2 Bk iv. Ch. v. 8.
3 Bk ii. Ch. xxxi. 3.
44 JAMES GIBSON :
has a " real constitution " of its own, which lies " within itself,
without any relation to any thing without it 1 ," and this strictly
private constitution is what it really is. It is for this reason
that Locke declares that relations are "not contained in the
existence of things " but are " something extraneous and super-
induced." They are not contained "in things as they are in
themselves 2 ," but depend upon a comparison of things made by
the mind. It is because they are "superinduced to the sub-
stance 3 ," not, as Green 4 supposed, because they are an addition
to the simple idea which cannot be represented in momentary
consciousness, that they are in a sense regarded as unreal.
Needless to say, as soon as reality is brought into contact
with thought, this metaphysical theory and the terms in which
it is expressed break down, and Locke proceeds to consider as
" real," constituents of knowledge for which no defence could be
made at the bar of his metaphysical theory. An idea is held
to be real when it is not a mere "fiction of the mind,"
but possesses some " foundation in Nature," " correspondence,"
or " conformity " with Nature. As a consequence, however, of
his metaphysical theory of what constitutes reality, there results
a difference in the criteria by which the reality of different
kinds of ideas is to be determined. Seeing that substances are
the constituents of reality, our ideas of substances are held to
carry an existential implication, which is not present in other
ideas. As ideas of substances they refer to archetypes existing
without us, of which they are " supposed copies," and are unreal
if these archetypes have never existed in Nature ; whereas of
mixed modes and relations, which confessedly lack metaphysical
reality, our ideas are regarded as real if they have applicability
to the real world, or if they are such as are merely capable of
exemplification in Nature. " When we speak of justice or
gratitude, we frame to ourselves no imagination of anything
existing," (or, we may add, in the metaphysical sense here
intended, capable of existing) " which we would conceive ; but
our thoughts terminate in the abstract ideas of those virtues,
and look no farther ; as they do when we speak of a horse or
iron, whose specific ideas we consider not as barely in the rnind,
but as in things themselves, which afford the original pattern of
those ideas 5 ." The contrast between the metaphysical reality
which mixed modes and relations cannot possess, and the episte-
mological reality of which their ideas are susceptible, is clearly
indicated in the following passage. "Mixed modes and relations
having no other reality but what they have in the minds of
i Bk in. Ch. vi. 6. 2 Bk n. Ch. xxv. 1.
3 Bk n. Ch. xxv. 4. 4 Introduction to Hume, 32.
5 Bk in. Ch. v. 12.
LOCKE'S THEORY OF MATHEMATICAL KNOWLEDGE &C. 45
men, there is nothing more required to those kinds of ideas to
make them real but that they be so framed that there is a
possibility of existing conformable to them 1 ." On the other
hand, we are told that even could we be assured of the possibility
of the existence of something corresponding to an idea of sub-
stance, this would not be sufficient to justify us in regarding the
idea as more than imaginary. Of centaurs, and similar ideas of
substances formed by the mind itself, we read, " Whether such
substances as these can possibly exist or no, it is probable we
do not know : but be that as it will, these ideas of substances
being made conformable to no pattern existing that we know,
and consisting of such collections of ideas as no substance ever
showed us united together, they ought to pass with us for
barely imaginary 2 ."
We see then that Locke has a different standard by which
to determine the reality of our ideas of substances from that
which he applies to our ideas of mixed modes, and that this
difference of epistemological criteria results from his meta-
physical conception of reality as made up of so many inde-
pendent and self-subsistent entities. Now, since for the reality
of knowledge it is necessary that there should be " a conformity
between our ideas and the reality of things 3 ,'' or that " our ideas
should answer their archetypes 4 ," the natural conclusion would
seem to be, that for a real knowledge of substances, the actual
existence of the corresponding entities and the derivation of
our ideas from them are essential conditions. But when Locke
comes to treat, in the fourth Book, not of the reality of ideas
considered in abstraction from each other, but of the reality of
those relations between ideas which constitute knowledge, a
different line of thought suggests itself to him. It is not the
reference to actual existence contained in our ideas of Sub-
stances, but a deficiency in the ideas themselves upon which
he now dwells. We are explicitly told in one place that
for a knowledge of the properties of substances their actual
existence in rerum Natura is not required. " Had we such
ideas of substances as to know what constitutions produce
those sensible qualities we find in them, and how those qualities
flowed from thence, we could, by the specific ideas of their real
essences in our own minds, more certainly find out their pro-
perties and discover what qualities they had or not, than
we can now by our senses : and to know the properties of gold,
it would be no more necessary that gold should exist, or that we
should make experiments upon it, than it is necessary for the
knowing the properties of a triangle, that a triangle should exist
1 Bk n. Ch. xxx. 4. 2 Bk n. Ch. xxx. 5.
3 Bk iv. Ch. iv. 3. * Bk iv. Ch. iv. 8.
46 JAMES GIBSON :
in any matter : the idea in our minds would serve for the one as
well as for the other 1 ." Further, we even read, in direct con-
tradiction of what we saw to be the teaching of Bk. n., that
the necessity for an empirical derivation of our ideas of substances
results from our inability to determine their real possibility a
priori. Locke begins indeed in the old strain. " Our ideas of
substances, being supposed copies and referred to archetypes
without us, must still be taken from something that does or
has existed ; they must not consist of ideas put together at the
pleasure of our thoughts though we can perceive no inconsistence
in such a combination." But now comes the change of position.
"The reason whereof is, because we knowing not what real
constitution it is of substances whereon our simple ideas depend,
and which really is the cause of the strict union of some of them
one with another, and the exclusion of others ; there are very
few of them that we can be sure are or are not inconsistent in
Nature, any farther than experience and sensible observation
reach 2 ." The truth would seem to be that when treating of
knowledge his metaphysical theory receded further in his mind
than when dealing with mere ideas. Regarded as constituents
of knowledge, our ideas of substances do not possess that unique
character which the presuppositions of his Metaphysics had led
him to attribute to them. Locke is thus led at least to suggest
as a criterion for the knowledge of substances as well as of
modes and relations, the principle of complete intelligibility,
forgetful of those unknown and unknowable things-in-them-
selves, whose isolated self-subsistence constituted for him the
true nature of reality, and by reference to which the derivative
reality possessed by ideas and knowledge was to be determined.
He nowhere, however, shows any consciousness of the nature of
this admission, or of its inconsistency with his general theory.
It remains for us to consider what are the characteristics
which Locke discovers in our ideas of substances, which prevent
these from becoming the subject-matter of scientific knowledge.
Why cannot we know a priori the real possibility of ideas of
substances as well as of ideas of modes and relations ? To begin
with, our ideas of substances are largely made up of simple
ideas of one sense, and these are peculiarly insusceptible of
those intuitive relations which constitute knowledge. We have
seen that Locke rested the demonstrative character of arithmetic
upon the discreteness of number and the consequent distinct-
ness of its ideas. This feature of the science of number is not
fully shared by any other department of knowledge. " In other
simple modes it is not so easy, nor perhaps possible, for us
1 Bk iv. Ch. vi. 11. 2 Bk iv. Ch. iv. 12.
LOCKE'S THEORY OF MATHEMATICAL KNOWLEDGE &C. 47
to distinguish betwixt two approaching ideas, which yet are
really different. For who will undertake to find a difference
between the white of this paper and the white of the next
degree to it ? or can form distinct ideas of every the least
excess in extension 1 ?" In Geometry, however, we can by
means of the method of superposition find " ways to measure "
the exact equality of lines, angles and surfaces. In comparison
with Arithmetic, therefore, Geometry does not labour under
any inferiority of certainty or exactness, but only of generality
and precision of application to the real. The most we can say
in the case is that " demonstrations in numbers, if they are not
more evident and exact than in extension, yet they are more
general in their use, and more determinate in their application 2 ."
But in those other simple ideas which differ only qualitatively
and intensively we can neither immediately perceive, nor by
any artifice measure their exact differences. "In other simple
ideas, whose modes and differences are made and counted by
degrees, and not quantity, we have not so nice and accurate a
distinction of their differences as to perceive or find ways to
measure their just equality or the least differences 3 ." The
continua of these ideas of secondary qualities are not therefore
in themselves capable of measurement or of direct scientific
treatment, and the only possibility of reducing them to a
scientific form lies in their resolution into those insensible
primary qualities on which they depend ; and this resolution we
cannot perform. " Being appearances of sensations produced
in us by the size, figure, number, and motion of minute cor-
puscles singly insensible, their different degrees also depend
upon the variation of some or all of those causes ; which, since
it cannot be observed by us in particles of matter whereof each
is too subtle to be perceived, it is impossible for us to have any
exact measures of the different degrees of these simple ideas 4 ."
The case is no better when we proceed to consider these
ideas in the relations in which they stand to each other. We
can of course affirm each of itself, and deny it of every other 5 ,
but we cannot detect between our ideas of secondary qualities
any of those special intuitive relations in which "positive
knowledge " consists. They form, indeed, the principal compo-
nents of our complex ideas of substances, in which we conceive
i Bk n. Ch. xvi. 3. 2 B k n. Ch. xvi. 4.
3 Bk iv. Ch. ii. 11. loc. cit.
5 This is all that can really be meant when we are told that " where the
difference is so great as to produce in the mind clearly distinct ideas,
whose difference can be perfectly retained there, these ideas of colour, as we
see in different kinds as blue and red, are as capable of demonstration as
ideas of number and extension." Bk. iv. Ch. ii. 13.
48 JAMES GIBSON:
several of them as united in the same subject ; but nevertheless
we cannot by the mere contemplation of these ideas perceive
any necessary connections of coexistence between them, or even
pronounce that any given combination of the n has so much as
a possible existence in nature. We can be certain, it is true,
that "no subject can have two smells or two colours at the
same time 1 "; but between a smell and a colour we can perceive
no incompatibility. "I imagine, amongst all the secondary
qualities of substances and the powers relating to them, there
cannot any two be named whose necessary coexistence, or
repugnance to coexist, can certainly be known, unless in those
of the same sense, which necessarily exclude one another*."
Considered in themselves these ideas of different senses seem
quite indifferent to each other. We cannot, however, from this
infer the real possibility of their coexistence in the same subject.
Though thus seemingly independent of each other, they are all
in Locke's view dependent ideas. Owing to their variability,
they cannot appertain to the real constitution of anything,
which is fixed and permanent, but are merely incidental effects
produced in us by the spacial relations of the minute particles
of matter, to which, Locke assumes, such an objective existence
may be ascribed. They are thus dependent for their existence
on certain unknown " primary " qualities; and between the ideas
of these unknown qualities there may be an inconsistency, which
would render the coexistence of the corresponding secondary
qualities impossible. Until then we know those "primary
qualities of the insensible parts of matter" from which they
spring, and the manner in which they spring from them, we
cannot a priori be certain that any given combination of
secondary qualities has even a possible existence in nature.
As long as these conditions remain unrealised, we can only
know that there is no incompatibility of existence by actually
experiencing the coexistence in question.
The dependence of secondary upon primary qualities not
only prevents us from forming a priori complex ideas of their
combinations, but also opens out the only possibility of a
scientific knowledge of nature which Locke is able to conceive.
This hypothetical science would not afford a knowledge of
coexistences of secondary qualities, but of the mechanical
operations of one body upon another. " That the size, figure,
and motion of one body should cause a change in the size,
figure, and motion of another body, is not," Locke thinks,
"beyond our conception. The separation of the parts of
one body upon the intrusion of another, and the change from
1 Bk iv. Ch. iii. 15. 2 Bk. iv. Ch vi. 10.
LOCKE'S THEORY OF MATHEMATICAL KNOWLEDGE &C. 49
rest to motion upon impulse ; these, and the like, seem to us to
have some connection one with another. And if we knew these
primary qualities of bodies, we might have reason to hope we
might be able to know a great deal more of these operations of
them one upon another 1 ." At times he speaks more confidently.
" I doubt not but if we could discover the figure, size, texture
and motion of the minute constituent parts of two bodies, we
should know without trial several of their operations one upon
another, as we do now the properties of a square or a triangle 2 ."
And as examples of such operations he instances the effects
produced upon the human constitution by rhubarb, hemlock,
and opium. But even if our faculties of sense were improved
or aided to the extent necessary to render such knowledge
possible, there would still remain " another and more incurable
part of ignorance 3 ." For we could never hope to connect these
mechanical explanations of the processes of nature with the
secondary qualities by which they are revealed to our sensitive
consciousness. " We are so far from knowing what figure, size,
or motion of parts produce a yellow colour, a sweet taste, or a
sharp sound, that we can by no means conceive how any size,
figure, or motion of any particles can possibly produce in us the
idea of any colour, taste, or sound whatsoever; there is no
conceivable connection between the one and the other 4 ." The
immediacy of mere sensation, therefore, must always constitute
a limit to our scientific knowledge.
These " simple ideas of one sense " which had held such a
prominent place in Locke's account of the origin of knowledge,
fall then completely into the background in his examination of
knowledge itself. Since in this case we cannot " distinguish
betwixt two approaching ideas, which are really different," they
lack that distinctness which is held to be essential to every idea,
and to that extent cease to be strictly ideas ; the closest scrutiny
fails to detect in them any of those special intuitive relations
by means of which other ideas are formed into systems of
knowledge ; and, finally, in them we discover an insurmountable
barrier in the way of a perfectly intelligible acquaintance with
Nature in its manifestations to our consciousness.
Ethics is the subject which Locke specially singles out as
capable of being raised to the form of a demonstrative science
by means of our present faculties. It is mainly concerned, like
Mathematics, with ideas of mixed modes and relations, in which
there is no implication of actual existence. Moreover, unlike
our present ideas of substances when their existential impli-
cation is dropped out of view, our ethical conceptions in Locke's
1 Bk iv. Ch. iii. 13. 2 Bk iv. Ch. iii. 25.
3 Bk iv. Ch. iii. 12. < Bk iv. Ch. iii. 13.
M. 4
50 JAMES GIBSON:
opinion admit of those special intuitive connections in which
knowledge consists.
It must be owned that in the attempt contained in the
Essay to exhibit demonstrably certain propositions in Ethics
Locke did not meet with much success. Property being
defined as " a right to anything," and injustice as " the invasion
or violation of that right," it no doubt follows that " where there
is no property there is no injustice 1 ." But the assertion is not
exactly a light-bearing one, nor is it easy to see how it can
escape the condemnation of "trifling." And so of his other
example, "No Government allows absolute liberty 2 "; where
Government is defined as " the establishment of society upon
certain rules or laws which require conformity to them," and
absolute liberty as " for anyone to do whatever he pleases."
Indeed, Locke himself seems to have come to feel that in his
first edition he had spoken somewhat too confidently of the
extension of demonstrability beyond Mathematics. For in
place of the assertion that "it is not only mathematics,
or the ideas alone of number, extension and figure, that are
capable of them (i.e. demonstrations), no more than it is these
ideas alone and their modes, that are capable of intuition 8 ,"
he subsequently substituted the following much more humble
claim. " It has been generally taken for granted, that mathe-
matics alone are capable of demonstrative certainty : but to
have such an agreement or disagreement as may intuitively
be perceived, being, as I imagine, not the privilege of the ideas
of number, extension, and figure alone, it may possibly be the
want of due method and application in us, and not of sufficient
evidence in things, that demonstration has been thought to
have so little to do in other parts of knowledge and been scarce
so much as aimed at by any but mathematicians 4 ." The " want
of due method and application in us " which he here mentions,
were two causes he was always inclined to assign for our failure
to raise Ethics to the level of a science. The want of
" indifferency," since "vices, passion, and dominating interest"
are opposed to it, is an obstacle repeatedly recognised ; while
the special difficulties inherent in the subject, might, he always
hopes, be some day overcome by an extension of " Algebra, or
something of that kind 5 ."
The greater caution in pressing the claims of Ethics to the
dignity of a demonstrative science which we find in the fourth
edition, is also to some extent reflected in Locke's correspon-
dence with Molyneux. Early in their intercourse his admiring
i Bk iv. Ch. iii. 18. 2 loc. cit.
3 Bk iv. Ch. ii. 9. 4 loc. cit., 4th and following Editions.
6 Bkiv. Ch. iii. 20.
LOCKE'S THEORY OF MATHEMATICAL KNOWLEDGE &C. 51
correspondent urged the author of the Essay to "oblige the
world with a treatise of morals, drawn up according to
the mathematical method." To this request Locke replied
that "though by the view I had of moral ideas, whilst I was
considering that subject, I thought I saw that morality might
be demonstrably made out ; yet, whether I am able so to make
it out is another question 1 ," at the same time promising to
consider the matter further. Molyneux, however, would not be
so easily denied, and returns to the subject again with ardour 2 ,
and he appears not to have been alone in his insistence on
this fresh undertaking. Some years later Locke writes that he
has laid up some materials for such a work, but excuses himself
from its execution on the grounds of age and ill-health. The
Gospel, too, he holds, " contains so perfect a body of Ethics that
reason may be excused from the enquiry," and he confesses that
he is one who prefers to " employ the little time and strength
he has in other researches, wherein he finds himself more in
the dark 3 ."
Although Locke was never able to satisfy the desire of his
friend, and seems to have felt at least something of the diffi-
culties which lay in the way of any attempt to do so, he never
really wavered from his conviction that a strictly demonstrative
method could be applied to Ethics. His explanation of the
demonstrative character of Mathematics, with all that this
involves, and the parallel which he instituted between Mathe-
matics and Ethics, constitute, indeed, two of the main positive
conclusions of the Essay. To have shown how in these two
fields of thought at least, the human mind can construct
systems of knowledge at once certain and universal, must have
appeared to the author a very considerable achievement. Nor
would his sense of satisfaction be lessened by the consciousness
that he had only reached in a more thorough and systematical
manner results which others had been more tentatively ap-
proaching. For in this, as in so many other respects, Locke
was but giving its most complete expression to one of the
intellectual movements of his age. The attempt to find an
explanation for the unique position of Mathematics, and to
raise Ethics to a similar level of scientific certainty, had
engaged other thinkers in England before Locke, and in order
fully to comprehend the significance of Locke's theory it will
be necessary to consider the historical development of the
problem.
When the modern world had finally turned its back upon
1 Locke to Molyneux. Sept. 20th, 1692.
2 Molyneux to Locke. Dec. 22nd, 1692.
3 Locke to Molyneux. March 30th, 1696.
42
52 JAMES GIBSON:
the appeals to authority, upon which the superstructure of
Scholasticism had rested, and determined to see truth with its
own eyes, it found one of its main sources of inspiration, and one
of its earliest fields of successful achievement, in Mathematics.
How small a place Mathematics had found in the recognised
system of education under the old regime we perhaps best
realise when we remember that Hobbes was forty years of age
when for the first time he turned over the leaves of Euclid's
Elements. The freshness and charm which he found in the
closely knit chain of demonstration did not appeal to him alone.
Here at last, it seemed to thinkers of that period, was furnished
a model of what Scholasticism had failed to supply, and of what
the modern seekers after truth had not hitherto attained, viz., a
system of demonstrative knowledge which carried one on from
step to step with irresistible conviction. To reduce all know-
ledge to a mathematical type, became for its more daring
speculators the leading epistemological problem of the age ;
while more cautious thinkers sought to discover a reason for
the pre-eminence in demonstrative capacity of mathematical
conceptions.
With the wider questions of the influence of Mathematics
upon general theories of knowledge, we are not now immedi-
ately concerned. Our interest must be concentrated upon the
more critical form of enquiry thus suggested, which seeks an
explanation for the apparently solitary grandeur of the mathe-
matical sciences, with a view to raising other branches of
knowledge to equal thrones, if that be possible.
Hobbes, while endeavouring to give his general theory of
knowledge a mathematical colouring by means of his crude
representation of reasoning as a process of addition and sub-
traction, recognises the unique position of the mathematical
sciences. Geometry, he declares, is "the only science that it
hath pleased God hitherto to bestow on mankind" (Leviathan,
Pt I. Ch. iv.). But he has no reason to offer in explanation of
its pre-eminence beyond the circumstance that in Geometry
men have settled the signification of words in definitions
which are set out at the start, and the suggestion is that
equally good results might be obtained in other branches of
knowledge, if only men would be more careful in defining the
terms they make use of. It is to Hobbes that we must trace
the attempt of subsequent writers to establish a close relation
between Ethics and Mathematics. His speculations, where
they touched upon the question of conduct, seemed to his
contemporaries to be simply subversive of morality. In oppo-
sition to such a result, the current of British speculation was
turned towards the attempt to construct a rational system of
LOCKE'S THEORY OF MATHEMATICAL KNOWLEDGE &C. 53
Ethics, and since Mathematics was the only department of
knowledge which had yet been reduced to the form of a science,
to do so appeared to be equivalent to showing that Ethics
might be placed on a level with Mathematics. The problem
consequently becomes at once more urgent and more definite.
It is henceforth, not simply how is a demonstrative science of
Mathematics possible, and how can other branches of knowledge
be reduced to a similar scientific form ; but how can the rules
of human conduct be rescued from the merely conventional
interpretation which seems to threaten them, and be shown to
be as demonstrably certain as the propositions of Mathematics.
The attempt to find a rational foundation for morality was
first made in England by the group of thinkers commonly
known as the Cambridge Platonists 1 . The objective validity
of moral distinctions the " eternal and immutable " nature of
morality was made by them to depend upon the nature of the
subject-matter of Ethics. In contradistinction to the transitory
affections of sense, they sought to bring out the presence in
knowledge of permanent a priori notions or Ideas, due to the
activity of the mind itself. From the comparison of such
notions, and the detection of their relations to each other,
resulted, according to them, what is properly speaking know-
ledge, an apprehension of truths which are in their nature
eternal ; and it is with such notions and such knowledge that
Ethics is concerned. Although some members of the School
might hesitate to ascribe to the propositions of Mathematics
the full dignity of "^Eternae Veritates 2 ," whenever an attempt
was made to illustrate the nature of these intelligible Ideas, and
of the knowledge of which they are the subject-matter, resort
was almost invariably had to Mathematics. Thus, although no
direct attempt is made to connect Mathematics and Ethics,
both sciences being included in a more general theory of
knowledge, by their insistence on the ideal or non-sensible
character of mathematical conceptions 3 , and by their special
endeavour to represent Ethics as a similarly constituted body
of demonstrative knowledge, the Cambridge Platonists were not
without their influence on the special problem which we are
investigating.
1 The numerous points of connection between Locke and the members
of this School have been brought out by Dr von Hertling.
2 E.q. Smith, following Plato, refers Mathematics to a lower stage of
knowledge than that on which we attain to " a naked intuition of eternal
truth " (Select Discourses, London, 1660, pp. 97-8).
3 Thus Cud worth writes : "There is no material triangle to be found
that is mathematically exact and accurate." (Treatise. Bk iv. Ch. iii,
17.)
54 JAMES GIBSON :
For the Cambridge Platonists the separation of the subject-
matter of Mathematics from sensible existence could in no way
derogate from its reality. The point of view, however, from
which greater reality is ascribed to universal notions than to
the particular things of sense, was not one which could be long
maintained in seventeenth-century England. Now, if we look
for reality to the world as revealed to sense, and at the same
time maintain the non-sensible nature of mathematical con-
ceptions, the only course open to us is to describe the subject-
matter of the mathematical sciences as a mental construction ;
making subsequently the best defence we can for the reality
of the knowledge so attained. The first hint of this position
seems to be given by Glanville, who subscribes to the remark
of Hobbes, that Mathematics is " the only science Heaven hath
yet vouchsafed humanity." Though at times merely repeating
the explanation of Hobbes that in Mathematics alone have
names a fixed signification, he at least suggests the point of
view which was to be adopted and developed by Cumberland
and Locke. "The knowledge we have of Mathematics," he
remarks in one place, "hath no reason to elate us; since by
them we know but numbers and figures, creatures of our own,
and are yet ignorant of our Maker's 1 ." He does no more than
barely express this antithesis between our knowledge of Mathe-
matics and our knowledge of that Nature which we do not
create but find; he makes no attempt to explain how by
thus seemingly cutting ourselves off from reality we can escape
the condemnation which he is ready to pronounce against
building castles in the air.
Cumberland's Treatise De legibus Naturae was published
in the year 1672, a couple of years after the famous meeting
of " five or six friends," at which the necessity of an exam-
ination of the nature and bounds of human knowledge first
forced itself home upon Locke. Seeing, however, that the
Essay did not appear for another eighteen years, there was
clearly ample time for the thorough assimilation of any ma-
terials that Cumberland had to offer towards the solution of
its problem. Though purely ethical in intention, the work of
Cumberland contains incidental references to the theory of
knowledge, which bear considerable resemblance on many
points to the theory of the Essay. Before proceeding to con-
sider his relation to Locke on the question of the demon-
strability of Mathematics and Ethics, it may be well to point
out the extent to which there is a general agreement between
the epistetnological positions of the two writers.
1 The Vanity of Dogmatising, pp. 209-10.
"LOCKE'S THEORY OF MATHEMATICAL KNOWLEDGE &c. 55
At the outset Cumberland rejects the theory of innate
principles. Not, indeed, that he is resolutely opposed to it
like Locke, since he is willing to admit the possibility of a
twofold origin of knowledge. The principles in question might,
he thinks, have been born with us, and yet afterwards im-
pressed upon us from without. The Theory of Innateness,
however, seems to him an insecure foundation for natural
religion and morality, seeing that it is rejected by many, while
it is not susceptible of proof to those who deny the assumptions
on which it proceeds 1 . Instead of claiming certain first prin-
ciples as an original gift of Nature to man, and basing his
ethical theory upon this assumption, he undertakes to show
that the highest truths of morality are necessarily suggested
to the minds of men from the nature of things and of them-
selves 2 , and are perceived and remembered by men as long as
their faculties remain unimpaired. Thus, having stated and
explained his supreme " Law of Nature," the rule of universal
benevolence or regard to the common good, he proceeds : " I
must now show both how the conceptions contained in the
foregoing proposition necessarily enter the minds of men, and
that when they are there they are necessarily connected, that
is, that they constitute a true proposition 3 ." Moreover, by
doing so he thinks he can supply morality with that divine
sanction of which it stands in need. For, the perception of
such a self-evident proposition as that enforcing universal
benevolence as the condition of the happiest state of each and
all, is a strictly necessary effect ; depending partly upon the
laws of motion, in accordance with which impressions are made
upon the organs of sense, and partly upon the nature of the
mind, which cannot but apprehend the conceptions thus forced
upon it, and their connection which constitutes the truth of
the position. Consequently the proposition in question is at
once " natural," and an expression of the will of God, who is
both the first mover of matter and the efficient cause of the
mind. It is evident, at once, from this crude attempt to prove
the " naturalness " and truth of first principles by an appeal
to a process of necessary causation, that Cumberland had not
awakened even to Locke's consciousness of the unique character
of enquiries into knowledge. Locke's ultimate appeal in the
case of all general truths is to the self-evidence of the pro-
positions themselves. We must remember, however, that to
him, too, an enquiry into the " original " of knowledge seemed
in some way a necessary preliminary to the determination of its
"certainty and extent" ; and that although his criticism of the
1 De legibua Naturae. Prolegomena, 5. 2 Op. cit., Ch. i. 1.
3 Op. cit., Ch. i. 5.
56 JAMES GIBSON :
theory of innate principles was in effect an attempt to substitute
an immanent for an external criterion of knowledge, he was
by no means aware of all that this involved.
Laying aside the possibility of an ante-natal source of
knowledge, Cumberland describes its "original" in much the
same manner as Locke. He appeals to the experience of all
men as supporting him in recognising a twofold manner in
which Simple Apprehensions are excited in our minds. " First,
by the immediate presence and operation of the object upon
the mind ; in which manner the mind is conscious of its own
actions, and also of the motions of the Imagination, or of the
phantasms which appear to it. Secondly, by means of our
external senses, nerves and membranes 1 ." These two sources
of Simple Apprehensions he further refers to as internal and
external Sensation. The mind, however, has faculties superior
to these, among which he includes a peculiar power of forming
universal notions by omitting the distinguishing accidents of
things 2 . Upon the possession of this faculty depends the pos-
sibility of Science and of framing rules of conduct which are
unchangeable and consequently in a sense eternal 3 .
With Cumberland, then, as with Locke, the mind begins
with Simple Apprehensions or Simple Ideas which refer either
to external things without it, or to its own operations, arid
proceeds to form out of these materials the universal con-
ceptions with which Science is concerned. For both, too, the
subject-matters of Mathematics and Ethics are in a more special
sense to be referred to the mind. It is the source, not only of
the universality, but of the entire content of the ideas concerned.
The mathematician is only directly concerned with ideal or
mental realities, and does not assume the actual existence of
anything corresponding to them in rerum Natura. Although
Truth consists in conformity with things, Cumberland explains
that certain mathematical propositions may be called true
though nothing exists to which they are conformable. For
since they do not make any assertion concerning things without
the mind, they are not to be compared with them. Their truth
consists in an agreement between the terms of which they are
composed, and nothing more than this is to be looked for in
their case 4 . Cumberland insists, however, that if such propo-
1 Op. cit., Ch i. 5. - Op. tit., Ch. ii. 11.
3 Loc. cit. Cf. the sense in which Locke explains the nature of " JSternae
Veritates." Bk iv. Ch. ii. 14.
4 " Nee his obstat quod dentur propositiones quaedam Mathematicae,
aliaeque his similes excogitentur, quae verae dicantur licet nihil existit,
cui sint conformes. Hujusmodi quippe suppositiones, quia nihil pronun-
ciant de rebus extra mentem, cum talibus non sunt conferendae, sed con-
LOCKE'S THEORY OF MATHEMATICAL KNOWLEDGE &C. 57
sitions are to be regarded as possessing truth, it is only on
condition that the terms of which they are composed are such
that they are capable of at least an approximate realisation in
Nature. If this condition is not satisfied the propositions in
question are trifling 1 . How we can be assured of the real
possibility of their existence we are not directly told. We
saw that the assumption upon which Locke proceeded was
that when our ideas are thoroughly intelligible, the absence
of inconsistency between them is a sufficient guarantee of the
possibility of real existence conformable to them. Cumberland
seems to lay stress, instead, on the dependence of mathematical
constructions on human activity.
His aim, Cumberland tells us, is to construct a science of
Ethics after this mathematical model. We do not presuppose
the actual existence of the actions and dispositions of which
the science treats, but depend upon the assurance that their
realisation is at all events possible. We may thus demonstrate
a priori certain propositions concerning Universal Benevolence,
which are necessarily true, whether or not any one has ever
adopted the Common Good as his end, and performed the actions
which are necessary as means to its attainment 2 .
Cumberland does, indeed, recognise certain obstacles in the
way of the construction and application to practice of a perfect
ethical code. On the one hand, there is the practical difficulty
that since for the complete realisation of the ideal of a good
which shall be at once the greatest possible good of each and
all, the cooperation of others is essential, its attainment does
not lie wholly within the power of any individual 3 . On the
other hand, it would seem that there are cases so complicated
that with our present limited insight we cannot even theo-
retically determine in complete detail what ought to be done 4 ,
sensus tantum inter terminos, ex quibus fiunt, est quaerendus, in eoque
veritas consistit earum." Op. tit., Ch. ii. 6.
1 " Hae tamen nullura habent in vita humana usum, nisi aliquid extra
cogitationes nostras reperiatur factum, aut a nobis fiat, quod nihilo (quod
quidem consideratu dignum) a conceptibus animae formatis differat. Si
earum subjectum, aut aliquid quam proxime simile non possit existere,
nugatoriae sunt, et aequivoce tantum verae dicuntur." LOG. cit.
2 " Eadem igitur methodo qua generalia Mathesifis theoremata proble-
matum constructioni deservientia liberantur ab incertitudine praefugiorum,
quae fiunt de actibus contingenter futuris, abstrahendo nempe ab afiir-
mationibus de futura existentia talium constructionum, et demonstrando
proprietates et effecta inde secutura (si quando fiant) visum est primo prin-
cipia quaedam clara de effectis propriis, partibus, variisque respectibus
amoris universalis tradere, nihil interim pronunciando de ejus existentia ;
certus interea eo, quod possibilis sit, inulta inde deduci posse, quae in
praxi morali nos dirigant, quod theoremata praestant in possibile construc-
tione problematum." Op. cit., Ch. i. 8. Of. too the preceding section.
3 Op. tit., Ch. i. 8. * Op. cit., Ch. iv. 4.
58 , JAMES GIBSON:
These difficulties, however, he holds, have their parallels in
Geometry. Curiously enough he finds an analogy to the
practical ethical difficulty suggested, in the insolubility of a
geometrical problem from insufficient data ; while he compares
the theoretical indeterminability of the right course of action
with the practical impossibility of drawing a perfect figure.
Where pure geometry would fail, however, the analytical
method may succeed. Ethics, Cumberland considers, should
imitate this discovery of Descartes, " as the noblest pattern of
science " ; and he consequently endeavours to discover a
connection between the methods of Ethics and Algebra 1 . In
Algebra, we seek to determine the value of an unknown
quantity, which we express by a symbol, by means of its
relations to known quantities. Similarly, in Ethics, we have at
starting little better than a symbolical representation of the
end of which we are in search, under the designation of the
" Chief Good " or " Happiness " ; and we only gradually come to
discover the contents of this ideal which we have presupposed,
by means of its relations to those human actions and faculties
upon which it depends. We solve a complex equation in
Algebra by singling out the known terms and determining by
their means the unknown. The ethical problem consists in the
identification of the end (all the good that lies in our power)
with the means (our own actioiis); it is solved by first detecting
the most obvious or easiest actions which promote the end, and
from these proceeding to the more difficult 2 .
We see then that Cumberland and Locke agree in holding
that mathematical propositions are primarily concerned with
mental constructions, but that they may nevertheless be deno-
minated " true," or regarded as furnishing " real " knowledge,
since we can somehow be assured of the possible existence of a
corresponding reality. The two writers are again at one in
holding that Ethics may be treated in a manner similar to
Mathematics, while of the two Cumberland Avould appear to
have been more fully alive to the special difficulties of the Ethical
problem. For both, again, the recent application of Algebra to
Geometry seemed to hold out hopes of a similar revolution in
the theory of morals. The resemblance in these points between
the views of Cumberland and the more fully developed theory
of Locke, would of itself be sufficient to warrant the assertion
that the latter was not arrived at in ignorance of the former.
This presumption is intensified, and indeed rendered a practical
1 Locke, also, expresses the hope that "Algebra, or something of that
kind " may remove the difficulties arising from the complex character of
. moral ideas. Bk iv. Ch. iii. 20.
2 Op. cit., Ch. iv. 4.
LOCKE'S THEORY OF MATHEMATICAL KNOWLEDGE &C. 59
certainty, when we find Locke referring to and answering a
difficulty raised by Cumberland. For, after all has been said,
Cumberland finds that there is a source of difficulty in Ethics
which does not exist in Mathematics, and which renders the
former science of necessity less capable of exactness. This
obstacle arises from the circumstance that certain presup-
positions of Ethics, viz., God and man, their actions, and
relations to each other, cannot be so accurately known as the
presuppositions of Mathematics 1 . " Nor let anyone object,"
writes Locke, " that the names of substances are often to be
made use of in morality, as well as those of modes, from which will
arise obscurity. For as to substances, when concerned in moral
discourses, their divers natures are not so much enquired into as
supposed; v. g., when we say that 'man is subject to law,' we
mean nothing by man but a corporeal, rational creature ; what
the real essence or other qualities of that creature are in this
case, is no way considered. And therefore, whether a child or
a changeling be a man in a physical sense, may among the
naturalists be as disputable as it will, it concerns not at all the
' moral man ', as I may call him, which is this immoveable un-
changeable idea, a corporeal rational being The names of
substances, if they be used in them as they should, can no more
disturb moral than they do mathematical discourses : where, if
the mathematician speak of a cube or globe of gold, or any other
body, he has his clear settled idea, which varies not, though it
may, by mistake, be applied to a particular body to which it
belongs not 2 ."
1 "Fatemur interim in materia prudentiae moralis ea, quae dantur,
seu ut cognita sumuntur, quae sunt Deus, et homines, eorumque actus, et
relationes mutuae, non adeo accurate nota esse, ac ea quae in certa men-
sura seu quantitate dantur in Mathesi ; ideoque quae ex iis colliguntur
eodem defectu aKpiftdas laborare." Op. cit., Ch. iv. 4.
2 Bk in. Ch. xi. 16.
IV. PHILOSOPHY IN ITS NATIONAL
DEVELOPMENTS.
BY PROFESSOR KNIGHT.
THE Philosophy of the World is an organic whole, which has
moved forward in uninterrupted continuity, although not al-
ways at the same speed, or on the same lines, from the first
to the last stage of its evolution. What has occasionally
seemed to the casual observer to be a break in its development,
owing to the absence of visible links, has afterwards when the
missing links have been discovered become part of a chain of
evidence, demonstrating the unity of the whole process.
The theory of a continuous mundane development, creating
by slow evolution those products, which are themselves des-
tined to be superseded by new ones in other words, the theory
of "a perpetual becoming" has grown in scientific clearness
from the days of Heraclitus to our own ; and is now accepted,
with few dissentient voices, by those who have been initiated
in Philosophy. But this doctrine of becoming is the theoretic
interpretation of only one aspect of the universe. If " all things
are double one against another," what endures is as important
as that which changes ; and the Eleatic Philosophy is as true
as the Heraclitic. Unity and variety together constitute the
totality of existence ; and each is necessary to the other. Para-
doxical as it may seem, permanence lies at the background of
every change ; while perpetual change is the conditio sine qua
non of all endurance.
To apply this generalisation at once to the subject to be
discussed. In a certain sense, the whole Philosophy of the World
is radically one. Being the outcome of a continuous cosmic
process, operating in all lands, its problems are fundamentally
the same ; but, within each country, they differentiate them-
selves in detail. The surface variety has been necessary to
exhibit the underlying unity, while the latter has been equally
needed to unite the miscellaneous fragments in a single whole.
The truth embodied in the law of Evolution has proved, to
PHILOSOPHY IN ITS NATIONAL DEVELOPMENTS. 61
most thoughtful persons, that the numerous phases of opinion
and belief, as well as the manifold types of national character
which have arisen in the course of History, have in no single
instance been matter of accident or chance. They have been
due to radical, if not to racial, characteristics of Human Nature ;
and they are therefore likely to be as persistent as any of the
types of organic structure, which the sciences disclose. The
bent, or national tendency, of every people is due to myriad
influences, which have played upon it from the dawn of time.
These influences which have, in a subtle way, differentiated it
from all others, are often occult, and underworking. They are
not always known by those who inherit them from within, or
receive them from without ; and they are seldom visible to others.
What becomes apparent in the recorded history of a nation
is but a fragment of that which has gone to the formation of
the national character. The latter has been due to the joint
operation of causes both external and internal, and of forces
which have worked beneath as well as above the stream of
development.
This principle applies to all the elements which go to con-
stitute the life of mankind. Like every other product,' the
Philosophy of the World has passed through multitudinous
phases ; widely different each from each in the amount of
insight they have shewn, but all of them of value to the race
at large. If the Literature, the Art, the Politics, the Social
Life, and the Religion of the world together constitute a vital
and organic whole which differentiates itself here and there,
because of the localities in which it works its Philosophy is
certainly no exception to this law of development. While
there has been an organic unity operating underneath all
change, and even guiding apparent anomalies of form, variety
of aspect has been equally necessary ; and the expansion
of Philosophy throughout the ages has been due to the joint
influence of them both.
If, however, the historian of Philosophy attempted to trace
its developments from a cosmopolitan point of view, ignoring the
differences of race and nationality, he would pass from country
to country in a somewhat bewildering fashion. Organic dif-
ferences would baffle him, in any attempt to trace the underlying
unity, with a steady hand. It is therefore necessary not only
to recognise, but to emphasise, the differences which now
exist ; and to trace them carefully in detail, while indicating
their common origin. The old historians of Philosophy were,
for the most part, mere chroniclers. They put down in their
books a series of statements, more or less accurate, as to what
this or that philosopher thought, or " held," or taught. These
62 PROFESSOR KNIGHT :
recorded opinions were mere isolated dicta, chronicled in an
irregular manner, with no attempt to trace their origin, their
connection, or their influence. Others, since the time of Ritter,
have tried to exhibit the course of Philosophy as one of
organic growth ; and all the numerous and noteworthy histories
of it, which have been written in Germany, France, and England
since Hitter's time although their interpretations and criti-
cisms may have been coloured by the particular school of
thought to which the writer belonged have adopted, more or
less, the guiding principle of his book.
It has now become so obvious as to amount almost to a
commonplace, that an adequate history of Philosophy can be
constructed, only when the thought of the world is regarded
as an organic whole ; and when every phase of it including
those which to us of the 19th century may be grotesque, or
even repulsive receives its due, as the passing aspect of an
underlying tendency. But, while every link in the chain is
seen to be a real element in the cosmos and some of the
things which a mature civilization considers " least honourable "
are nevertheless recognised as having contributed to the final
result it is absolutely necessary for the historian to take up
nation after nation, seriatim: to deal with each of them in-
dividually, tracing those collateral influences which have come
into it from abroad, as well as those which have reached it by
direct inheritance within its own area.
It is easy to over-magnify the local influences which have
shaped the Philosophy of a particular people ; while the wider
racial ones, underlying all provincial tendencies, are ignored.
But, while many histories of Philosophy, since Ritter's time,
have been compiled with the view of exhibiting the " increasing
purpose " of the whole, few historians have tried to unfold the
characteristics of each race, as an organic growth within its own
domain, or province. I therefore think that it should be the
aim of future historians to shew the fundamental differences
inherent in each race and thus to explain the local phases and
peculiarities of development rather than to emphasise the
underlying unity of the thought of the world.
That there is a distinctive national colour, in all the great
philosophies, cannot be denied by any competently informed
person; nor can it be ignored in any adequate historical treat-
ment of them. It is also important to note that a scientific
examination of the provincial aspects of Philosophy is, on the
whole, a return to precision, from the vagueness which a sense
of the unity of the thought of the world is apt to engender. If
we start with the cosmopolitan idea, and with the two main
" streams, of tendency " the real and the ideal and traverse
PHILOSOPHY IN ITS NATIONAL DEVELOPMENTS. 63
the centuries with their aid, setting down so much as due to
idealism and so much to realism, we do not achieve much in
the way of explanation, and we are apt to become nebulous
and hazy.
Nowadays, when every one in the world is a sort of "next
door neighbour" when we have "thrown a girdle round the
earth " in less than " forty seconds," and may soon be able to
telephone to the very ends of the world we are probably
inclined to over-estimate the unity of the race. But there is
no evidence to shew that acquaintance with other communities,
and a knowledge of their distinctive features knowledge which
grows so rapidly in an age of scientific progress will tend to
produce greater uniformity of type, will lessen the differences
which exist, or minimise the distinctive features of each man,
woman, or child.
Besides, the abolition of its differences would be a serious
loss to the world at large. Even were it possible, it would be
a prodigious mistake to attempt to reduce the races of mankind
to a dead level of uniformity, to europeanise the Indian, to
asiaticise the African, to americanise the Polynesian, and so
on. It would not only be a very wasteful policy to each of
them while it lasted, but it would involve a serious loss to the
world, were it even partially successful. What we need is the
removal of every obstacle to individual and national develop-
ment. Each race demands the freest possible evolution of
opinion, character, belief, and action in all directions ; " live
and let live" being the law of the house, alike in individual
families, and in mixed communities of men. Every extreme
corrects, if it does not neutralise, the rest ; and if the differen-
tiation of the race be carried much further in the future, its
unity instead of disappearing will become more and more
apparent.
Within each nation, however, normal development proceeds
from within outwards, not from without inwards. The higher
culture must not be superimposed ab extra, it must be evolved
ab intra. It must be reached by the slow processes of interior
growth, and subsequent expansion. We cannot raise a people
low in civilization up to a higher level, by thrusting upon it
an alien type of life and culture, still less by making use of
compulsion. We may graft, with the utmost skill, a new
branch on the old stem ; but, even in that case, the old will
dominate the new, not the new the old. A conviction which
is to last, and to bear fruit, must invariably proceed from
within. If it is to endure, it must be educed ; and that in-
volves a long, and often a tedious, historic process. The result
is very seldom accomplished by argument. It is much more
64 PROFESSOR KNIGHT:
largely due to unconscious agencies than to conscious forces.
It would seem to be the case that there must be a concurrent
development of the physical frame and the animal functions,
with an increase of brain-power, and a refinement of feeling;
in other words, a growth of " the senses and the intellect " on
the one hand, of "the emotions and the will" on the other,
before any radically new manifestation of Human Nature can
take place.
Another point of importance is this. The time during
which the several races of mankind have already lasted has
some bearing on the question of their probable duration. If
the lower types began their career much further back, and
have therefore a greater ancestry than the higher ones, it
may be asked ' Have they none of the prescriptive rights of
primogeniture?' In the physical cosmos outside of man we
find organisms persistent for millions of years, and doing great
service to the world ; and it is most natural to ask why all the
lower types of Human Nature should be uprooted, to make
room for what we call (and rightly call) the higher ones ;
while every type is relative to a zero-point, from which they
all have started, which gives us a standard for comparison,
and by which the excellence of each may be appraised ? We
may surely ask, why all the lower races should be sacrificed
for the good of the higher ones ? And we may answer the
question in the same way in which most humane persons object
to the unlimited vivisection of our canine friends, for a remote
possible benefit to the human race. Then, have we not found
historically that the higher races have occasionally (and most
righteously) been superseded by the lower ones, although only
for a time?
More important it is to note that many persons who forsake
a lower for a higher creed bring with them, and cannot help
bringing, much that passed current in the lower ; while the two
cannot amalgamate. Many who abandon the customs of their
country, who give up it may be on conviction, or it may be
through bribery the faith of their ancestors, adopting a new
cult, and becoming 'proselytes of the gate' at the instigation
of the missionary, develop sundry vices in the course of the
process. Any one who, on a sudden, accepts ideas which are
not native to him, and practices which are not hereditary,
becomes unnatural. He loses, rather than gains, by the process.
Contact with the higher types of civilization has not always
elevated the lower* It is so much easier for the latter to
assimilate the vices, than to imitate the virtues of the former ;
and the healthy relation between the two, when they happen
to be brought into contact, is not that the higher should force
PHILOSOPHY IN ITS NATIONAL DEVELOPMENTS. 65
its customs or practices, its Religion, or Government, or Phi-
losophy upon the lower still less that the lower should try to
extinguish the higher but that each should tolerate the
other, and gain from contact with it, as much as it can healthily
assimilate.
It follows that it is not only a weakness, it is practical folly
for the votaries of any one type of civilization to act upon the
principle " this is the best for all mankind." A system of belief
or practice which is not indigenous even although it is the
outcome of a higher civilization, developing itself elsewhere if
transplanted to a foreign soil, is doomed to failure ab initio.
If it seems to succeed for a time, its success is always more
apparent than real; and in a vast number of instances, the
reactions are stupendous. The reason is that the old currents
of belief and practice, which were hereditary race-elements,
continue to operate silently, underneath the new "stream of
tendency." Differentiation is of course incessantly at work,
never ceasing for a moment of time amongst any people : but
the healthful changes are always slow and gradual ones, which
do not record themselves at once. If written at the time, it is
by a sort of invisible ink, which only becomes apparent after
being subjected to the fire.
If, on this matter, we appeal to history wisely recorded
and interpreted we find that, although it has been possible to
force new laws, manners and customs, even a new Language,
Philosophy, and Religion, .on a conquered people, the success
of the victor has been a deceptive triumph. The conquered
people are crushed for a time. They are humiliated, perhaps
made sullen by defeat ; but they are usually ready for a fresh
trial of strength, at the earliest possible opportunity. By the
curious glamour of reaction from antiquated habit, what has
been artificially introduced, even by conquest, may be welcomed
for a time ; and it is almost certain to be hailed by those who
appreciate novelty; but the superior race, thrusting its latest
ideals on one with which they have no constitutional affinity,
may by its sudden dominancy destroy the native bloom of
character and habit in the inferior people ; while a subsequent
reaction may drive the latter race to a lower level than that
from which it was apparently but artificially raised.
It must be admitted that some crude developments, or
diseased products, of our humanity may be dealt with at once
by drastic processes ; that is to say, by the rapid incoming of
new, and at times of militant influence. Such an advent of
beneficent power may legitimately extinguish, by its strong
hand, the excesses of a rudimentary civilization ; and humanity
at large is the gainer by such a process of physical and moral
M. 5
66 PROFESSOR KNIGHT:
surgery combined 1 . Nevertheless, in all cases of one civilization
appealing to another, the transitions should be as gradual as it
is possible to make them.
Even were it possible artificially to combine two races (a
higher and a lower), as provinces can be territorially annexed,
this would not prove either, first, that all the members of the
lower were able to receive the higher type of thought, feeling
and action ; or secondly, that the higher might not be injured
by receiving and assimilating the practice of the lower. If a
higher race cannot intermarry with a lower, and have a progeny
that is healthful, it is surely worse than useless to attempt a
forcible intermarriage of ideas. But what is often aimed at is
not the intermarriage of ideas, but the complete substitution of
one set for another. It is the inoculation of the lower races, by
the opinions of the higher; and the superimposition of the
latter on the former, so as to raise them to a new level, by
external means.
This applies not only to the African, the American, and
some of the Asiatic races, but also to several European ones.
Contact with the people of a different race amongst ourselves
in the West, has often hindered rather than helped their
development. The prejudices and the vices of the new race
have been transmitted, and even intensified, more quickly than
its virtues; while some of the dormant excellencies of the
inferior people have died away in the process.
On the other hand, there can be little doubt that the
introduction of a new type of civilization in the midst of an
old one has at times touched the latter in its deepest parts.
It has occasionally quickened the development of powers, which
have been lying latent for centuries. What has at first seemed
a disaster to a nation, which has lived for generations in a.
particular groove, and been there under the influence of a
few provincial ideas, has afterwards led to more than a renewal
of its youth. The introduction of elements, which have coa-
lesced naturally with those which were verging to decay, has
given a fresh lease of life to such a people ; and here we reach the
sole ground on which the work of the missionary of another
creed who aims at being the pioneer of a new civilization can
be defended. There is no limit to the influence which may be
exercised by the higher races over the lower, if such influence
be exerted naturally, and by wise methods.
Turning now from these semi-anthropological considerations,
I reach the more strictly philosophical problem of the relation
1 For example, infanticide, slave-dealing, the burning of suspected
witches, cruelty to all who differ from you, etc. etc. might be dealt
with, as every civilized people now deal with cannibalism.
PHILOSOPHY IN ITS NATIONAL DEVELOPMENTS. 67
in which the race stands to the individual, and the individual
to the race or of the many to the one, and the one to the
many in the matter of intellectual system-building. There
is no doubt that the two factors in the historic evolution of the
human race have been the power of the individual in leading
the masses, and the power of the masses in controlling the
individual. These two are complementary forces, centrifugal
and centripetal. The power of the individual in determining
a new forward movement amongst the mass of his contem-
poraries is quite as great as any power they can exert in
restraining him from a too rapid, it may be a meteoric progress.
When a community has sunk into a somewhat 'monotonous
uniformity whether of belief or of practice when it has been
working steadily on in the grooves of tradition, a longing, half
understood at first, begins to arise within it for the appearance
of a new Leader, for the guidance of an Individual, for the
" Coming Man," who will be able to focus contemporary wants,
and to interpret them. In every corporate body whether it
be a State, or a Church, or a Philosophical School there must
be Leaders ; and it is by the commanding force of its greater
minds and wills, by their individuality and their special power,
that all re-formations of opinion and practice are wrought out.
The stronger have always given the law to the weaker
although it is also true, as a poet puts it, that " strongest
minds are those of whom this noisy world hears least " : but
to suppose that the great movements of History, and the
formation of its chief Philosophies, or Social Institutions, have
been due to the unconscious working of blind forces is as great
a mistake as it is to ignore or undervalue the latter. The
brain power of the individual has been a potent factor in the
formation of every philosophical system, and it conies out in
many ways. It is needed 1st adequately to understand the
spirit of the age, 2nd to divine its latent tendencies, and appraise
its underworking currents, 3rd to guide it onwards in a wise
and fruitful manner, 4th to reconstruct and reinterpret ancient
theories, by bringing them into vital relation with the present
age, and 5th to sow the seeds of future development in a natural
manner.
These, and many other points, might now be considered in
detail ; but as the aim of this paper is rather to urge the
importance of the opposite and balancing truth of the influence
of Race and Nationality in determining the great systems of
opinion, an illustration of this thesis founded on the contrast
between Greek Philosophy, and its Oriental types may be more
appropriate.
Greece was the land of the ideal, in every sense of the
52
68 PROFESSOR KNIGHT:
word; and there it was that the ideal was first made real to
the human consciousness. The fascination which the race
inhabiting that little promontory of the ^Egean has exercised
over the thought and the art of the world over its letters, its
science, and its politics has had no parallel in subsequent
history. While each nation has contributed its own share to
the progress of humanity and we may say in general that
from the Semitic races we have inherited our Religion, from
Greece our Philosophy and Art combined, and from Italy our
Law the Hellenic spirit has ruled the world in a manner
altogether unique. This has been due to many concurrent
causes. Perhaps the most remarkable feature, in the Greek
world taken as a whole, is its manifoldness, and its manifold
completeness ; in other words the rapid development of the human
intellect and genius, in many different directions simultaneously,
and its perfection in each; so that the productions of Greece
remain to this hour, the admiration and the despair of the world.
No subsequent type of civilization has transcended it, so that the
great Hellenic achievements remain in the very forefront of the
world's development, even while an "increasing purpose" has
been running through the subsequent ages. In the department
of Philosophy, while the speculative thought of the world has
of necessity changed, we find in Greece the germs of every
subsequent theory; and, what is perhaps of still greater con-
sequence, we find the later opinion of the world continually
reverting to the positions taken up in the earliest Greek schools.
There we find the teachings of Philosophy expressed with the
greatest clearness and vigour, as well as subtlety, and we find
its distinctive types more sharply defined, than anywhere else,
until we reach the Philosophy of the last two centuries.
Another general feature in the Philosophy of Greece is the
singularly rapid development and succession of its schools,
produced by the active movements of thought within them.
One system led on, swiftly and inevitably, to another; the
existence of the latter being due to the very completeness
which characterised its predecessor. This rapid succession of
systems was not a symptom of intellectual decay, but of vitality.
The quick absorption and assimilation of the elements which
nourish the intellectual life of a people is a sign of sustained
national vigour. And so, in marked contrast to the uniformity
and stagnation which characterised the brooding East, Greece
presents the spectacle of ceaseless activity, and incessant change.
This was doubtless due to the manifoldness of the life of the
nation, as much as to anything else; and, (to what has been
already mentioned) the intellectual reciprocity, or indebtedness
of its Philosophy to its Art, of its Art to its Politics, and its
PHILOSOPHY IN ITS NATIONAL DEVELOPMENTS. 69
Politics to its Religion. Out of the friction of old ideas, and their
incessant commingling, new ones emerged. In contrast with
this, in the East where tradition for the most part ruled the
national mind, it at the same time repressed and fettered it.
There was no free play of thought, to break up the routine of
the past, and to interfere with the monotony of precedent.
If it was reverence that kept the Semitic mind perennially
loyal to a few leading ideas, a certain intellectual timorousness
with languor, and love of ease, and other causes, due to
climate, race, and temperament kept the Eastern mind moving
sedately, and at times austerely, along the lines of immemorial
tradition. There was no desire for change, no thirst for progress,
no demand for liberty, such as we find in the West. Hence
the uniformity which characterises the Mythology, the Art, and
Government of the East, as well as its Philosophy. We find
vastness, rigidity, and sameness. Where there is not repression,
there is barbaric glitter, and monotonous splendour. The type
of mental and moral character among all the Eastern peoples
is for the most part the same. It is like the tropical vegetation,
of more uniform feature than that which has been developed in
the temperate zone. As some one was it Hegel ? well re-
marked, the jungle is the physical type of the intellectual and
moral life of the East ; and it was the want of intellect with
its freedom and movement, its endless bright developments
that kept the East so stationary in Philosophy and Religion,
as well as in Government and Art, and prevented the rise of
the Sciences. A cumbrous and elaborate ritual overlaid the
life of the people, with precepts and practices that fettered
it. In contrast with this, it was perhaps due to the inherent
vigour of the primitive settlers on the rocky peninsula of Hellas,
and to the rapid mingling of diverse races as wave after wave
of emigration and of conquest swept westwards, and turned south-
wards, from the primitive Aryan home, wherever it was that
the world owes the singular union of flexibility and strength, of
force, freedom and pliancy, characteristic of the Greek mind.
In Greece, as in the East, climatic causes co-operated with racial
tendency; and the physical features of the land with their
variety, and compact beauty aided the development of national
character. Greece was not the land in which Nature could
subdue man, or dominate over him. It was pre-eminently the
country in which man would become the interpreter of Nature ;
in which also he would be able to manipulate her forms, and be a
deft and cunning workman in the idealization of them. It was
not a land in which a doctrine of nirvana could possibly arise,
or be appreciated. The active and subtle intellect of the people,
and its aesthetic and athletic spirit combined, prevented this.
70 PROF. KNIGHT: PHILOSOPHY IN ITS NATIONAL DEVELOPMENTS.
Thus, from the very first, the philosophy and the mythology of
Greece differed from that of the East, and reflected the free
creative intelligence of the people.
Another feature which characterised the literature and life
of the Hellenic race, as well as its Philosophy, was its love of
directness, its going straight to the mark, without intricacy,
obscurity or twist. Abundant evidence of this is seen in the
evolution of its philosophical schools. Its early infantile
curiosity, and its subsequent youthful boldness, (often amounting
to rashness), are evident; but intellectual thoroughness, and
clear-eyed direct intelligence, are dominant throughout. Many
of its early thinkers imagined that they had found a single key
by which they could unlock the mystery of the universe at large ;
but, in these early schools, as well as in the later ones, we find
an effort to pierce by the sheer force of thought, as far as
thought could carry beneath the symbols that obscured it, and
the metaphors that entangled it. Metaphoric conceptions ruled
the East. They ruled the Semitic mind, and coloured the whole
religious literature of the Jews, where anthropomorphic ideas
had the upper hand. In Greece, on the contrary, from the very
first, speculative minds sought to reach the shrine of pure
Being, by the avenue of pure Thought. Vagueness, and even
mystery, were abhorrent to them. The blue heaven above, and
the bright sea around, suggested clearness, as well as depth ;
and depth without clearness was not esteemed in Greece.
Hence vague suggestions were tracked, if possible, to their
root ; and were analysed, with a view to the removal of the
vagueness, by a process of verification. The Greek did not
naturally care for, or believe in, vague impulses which he could
not name. Distrusting dim monitors within, the Hellenic mind
wished that they should all be brought out of their lurking-
places into the light, and that they should answer for themselves
in the court of logical appeal. In this there was an element of
weakness, as well as of strength ; but the historical fact to be
noted is that in the whole national life of Greece, we see a
striving after clear conviction ; and this love of light, and
perpetual ' coming to the light,' may be said to have given rise
to the long succession of its schools of Philosophy.
An equally significant illustration of the influence of Race
and Nationality in determining the characteristics of philo-
sophical thought, is to be seen in the modern German " stream
of tendency," as compared with the French ; and in the British
stream, as compared with them both : but, as this may be
discussed, if not in subsequent articles, in forthcoming books, it
is for the present postponed.
V. ON THE APPARENT SIZE OF OBJECTS.
BY W. H. R. RIVERS.
THE most definite experimental evidence in favour of sensations
of movement as factors in spatial perception has in the past
been derived from the experiments of Wundt (1) on the monocular
estimation of the distance of a thread. Hillebrand (2) however
has recently shown that Wundt's results probably depended,
not on movements of accommodation and their accompanying
sensations, but on other factors, especially alteration in the
size of the thread. On the other hand, as Dixon < 3) has pointed
out, Hillebrand's experiments hardly justify him in concluding
that movement factors are wholly without influence on the
sense of depth.
I have investigated some other phenomena which have
been held to prove the influence of movement, and especially of
accommodation in spatial perception, and I consider one of them
in the present paper, viz. the alteration of the apparent size of
objects when the accommodation apparatus of the eye is
paralysed by atropin.
One of the first to record this phenomenon was Bonders (4) ,
and his explanation is still generally accepted. He noticed
the appearance especially when the ciliary muscle was only
partially paralysed and supposed the effort necessary to see an
object distinctly was greater than normal ; that the object was
in consequence supposed to be nearer, and that as the visual
angle had not become greater, there was an apparent diminution
in size. The condition was more fully investigated by Forster (5)
and Aubert (6) , who noticed that an object appeared not only
smaller but more distant. They explained the micropsia on
the same lines as Bonders, and supposed that the appearance
of greater distance was due to a secondary inference from the
known size of the object. A similar appearance is often
observed as a symptom of paralysis of the third nerve from
disease and has received the same explanation.
My own observations have led me to the conclusion that
72 W. H. R. RIVERS :
under the influence of atropin micropsia may arise from two
wholly distinct causes. Under certain conditions an object
may appear to be diminished in size when looked at directly;
under other conditions an object beyond the fixation point
appears small, and these two appearances are of very different
nature. I shall refer to them throughout as micropsia at the
fixation point and micropsia beyond the fixation point re-
spectively.
The phenomenon observed by Forster and Aubert was
micropsia at the fixation point, and I will consider this first.
Forster found that with partial paralysis of one eye by atropin
Jaeger's type appeared smaller to this than to the normal eye,
and that diminution in size increased as the type was brought
nearer to the eye up to a certain limit. Both far and near
limits of the region in which micropsia occurred varied in
different individuals depending on the condition of refraction.
Aubert saw No. 4 Jaeger at 7 inches only half as large as to the
normal eye.
In repeating these experiments I dropped a solution of
homatropin (one grain to the ounce) in the left eye. At the
end of 20 minutes Jaeger's type appeared distinctly small with
this eye when fixed directly. I am myopic, (3D in the
vertical meridian and 4 D in the horizontal), and the far
limit of the micropsia was 20 cm. : the decrease in size became
more marked as the type was brought nearer to the eye, so that
at the nearest point where the type could be focussed No. 10 to
the left eye appeared nearly as small as No. 6 to the right eye.
On trying squares of paper of different sizes, I found that while
black squares on a white ground showed marked diminution in
size, no such change occurred in the case of white squares on a
black ground ; these looked even rather larger to the left than
to the right eye. Mr E. T. Dixon (emmetropic) kindly made
observations for me under homatropin. He observed Jaeger's
type smaller with the affected (right) eye from 100 cm. up to
40 cm. No. 10 to the right eye appeared smaller than No. 8
to the left eye. A black square on a white ground appeared
smaller, a white square on black ground rather larger to the
right than to the left eye. The change in size observed by us
was evidently due to irradiation, and as might be expected
printed type is a very favourable object for showing the effects
of irradiation. It became probable that this form of micropsia
depended rather on the dilatation of the pupil than on
affection of accommodation and this was proved by the further
observation, that with a small artificial pupil before the
affected eye no micropsia was observed ; the type was equally
large to either eye.
ON THE APPARENT SIZE OF OBJECTS. 73
Fb'rster gives several reasons for his belief that the micropsia
observed by him was due to the change of accommodation
and not to the pupil. His three observers did not notice the
micropsia till from 30 to 80 minutes after instillation, although
the pupil had dilated earlier. I observed micropsia after 20
minutes, and it was well marked after 25 minutes. Forster
also noticed the micropsia especially with strong effort to
accommodate and together with lessening or disappearance
of blurring, and regarded this as proof of its dependence on
the accommodation. He does not appear however to have
tried the effect of an artificial small pupil, and he only describes
experiments with Jaeger's type.
I have found that the same process of irradiation explains
another alteration of apparent size which I have observed.
Some time ago I noticed that objects and especially printed
letters appeared slightly smaller to my left eye than to my
right; the difference was very slight and was only detected
when the object was doubled by looking beyond it so that I
had my right and left eye images side by side for comparison.
There is a very slight difference of refraction between my two
eyes and it occurred to me that in cases of marked inequality,
there might be a decided difference in the apparent size of
objects to the two eyes. This I found to be the case. In one
case the apparent difference in size associated with a difference
of 2 D in refraction was so considerable that No. 10 Jaeger to
one eye appeared only as large as No. 6 to the other. In the
early cases I examined the micropsia occurred with the
relatively more hypermetropic eye and I supposed that it was
associated with the greater effort of accommodation necessary to
see an object distinctly. Since making the experiments with
atropin, I have reexamined some of these cases and found the
appearance to be due to irradiation. In the case I have
already mentioned a black square on a white ground is
considerably diminished in size, but a white square on a black
ground is not appreciably altered. With an artificial pupil of
1/5 mm. diameter before each eye, the difference in size was less
marked but still present; with a pupil of 1'5 mm. before the
hypermetropic eye and one of 2 mm. before the normal eye, no
difference of size was observed.
One form of micropsia which occurs under the influence of
atropin appears then to be due to dilatation of the pupil, and
so far as this form is concerned, there is no evidence in favour
of accommodation as a factor in spatial perception. The other
form which I have called micropsia beyond the fixation point
is of more interest psychologically. It is an appearance of the
74 w. H. R. RIVERS:
same nature as one which may be observed with the normal
eye. If one eye be closed, the other fixed on a near object, and
at the same time a distant object observed, the distant object
will appear to decrease in size if the fixed object be brought
nearer to the eye ; when the fixed object is moved away from
the eye, the distant object will appear to increase in size. Simi-
larly an object nearer than the fixed object will appear to
increase in size when the fixed object recedes from the eye, and
to decrease in size when the fixed object approaches the eye.
The appearance may be well observed with Jaeger's type. If
this be held at ordinary reading distance and a nearer point be
fixed the type will appear smaller ; on bringing the fixed point
nearer, further diminution will take place and the micropsia
may be so marked that No. 10 may look as small as No. 4 or
even No. 2. At the same time the type becomes blurred, which
interferes to a certain extent with the illusion. Enlargement
of the type nearer than the fixation point is less easy to observe
but does occur. These appearances may be summed up by
saying that objects beyond the fixation point appear smaller
and objects nearer than the fixation point larger than they
would do if fixed directly. One apparent exception occurs to
this; if type is brought quite close to the eyes within the
near point, it appears slightly diminished in size. This dimi-
nution however entirely disappears with a small artificial pupil,
while the micropsia beyond the fixation point is not affected by
this means. These appearances have been previously described
by Ludwig< 7 ', Panum< 8 >, Hering< 9 >, Stumpf< 10 > and Martius* 11 '.
I will reserve their explanations till after I have described some
further observations.
The apparent diminution in size is in the case of most
observers, and among them myself, accompanied by an ap-
pearance of greater distance ; a few on the other hand have had
indefinite ideas of distance and have seen the object sometimes
nearer, sometimes farther. I need hardly say that in all cases
where I have asked for observations I have avoided leading
questions. To myself change of distance is occasionally more
obvious than change of size ; after fixing a near object and then
suddenly releasing accommodation I have seen an apparent
approach of the distant object, and this has been especially well
marked in cases where I have been attending to the question of
size and have not been thinking of change of distance. The
question arose whether the apparent change of distance was
secondary to change of size as supposed by Fb'rster and Aubert
in their explanation of the micropsia of atropin. To de-
termine this point I tried some experiments in which I was
ON THE APPARENT SIZE OF OBJECTS. 75
unaware of the size and distance of the object. I looked
through an eye-piece at one end of a cylindrical box at a
uniform grey wall ; a point to be fixed was placed within the
box : the point being fixed, squares of paper of various sizes
were held by means of a slender holder at various distances
between the box and the wall by an assistant. It soon became
obvious that knowledge of the size was a very important factor
in the case ; in nearly all cases however the square appeared
either smaller or more distant or both smaller and more distant
than when fixed directly, and Mr E. T. Dixon also tried this
experiment with similar results.
I will now describe the experiments with atropin. I
applied a solution of atropin sulphate (2 gr. to the ounce) three
times a day for four days. The appearances to be described were
present during the whole time. Owing to my myopia I could
see type distinctly without glasses at about 25 cm. Holding the
type at this distance, I fixed the point of a pencil in front of
the type and brought it nearer to the eye, making an effort to
accommodate for the point. The effort was of course unsuccessful
and the point of the pencil became more and more blurred as
it approached the eye. At the same time the type diminished
in size just as in normal vision, but owing to the absence of
blurring the diminution in size was more obvious than with the
normal eye till with near approach of the pencil No. 10 ap-
peared quite as small as No. 2. With the diminution in size
there was an appearance of greater distance as in the normal
experiment, and the phenomenon appeared to be identical in
nature with the normal micropsia beyond the fixation point, but
more easily observed owing to the absence of blurring. In an
emmetropic individual it is to be expected that the experiment
would succeed only with distant objects, and it seems possible
that one cause of the micropsia which has been observed clini-
cally by ophthalmologists may have been a want of corre-
spondence between a seen object and the point of fixation.
Under ordinary circumstances it is a phenomenon which will
only be observed if it is looked for.
Another drug with which I have experimented is eserin.
This causes spasm of the ciliary muscle and with this condition
objects appear increased in size. I used a solution of eserin
(1 in 320) to the left eye. At the end of ten minutes, my far
point was brought down to 15 cm. Type was distinctly larger
to the left eye at 15 cm. and increased further in size on
bringing nearer to the eye, so that No. 10 became larger than
No. 12 to the right eye. Five minutes later the far point was
at 10 cm., and the macropsia more marked, No. 10 to the left
eye being almost as large as No. 14 to the right eye at
76 w. H. R. RIVERS:
the nearest point where it could be seen distinctly 1 . The
macropsia began to pass off before the end of an hour and
had disappeared three hours after instillation. Apparently
the macropsia occurred both at the fixation point and nearer
than the fixation point, but much more marked when nearer.
During the first hour, however, any effort to accommodate was
decidedly painful. The ordinary explanation given of this
condition is on the same lines as that of micropsia ; that owing
to the spasm of accommodation, no effort or less effort than
normal is necessary to see an object distinctly. This gives
rise to an idea of greater distance and consequent appearance
of greater size. I may mention here that the increase in
size was very much greater than would have been due to the
contraction of the pupil due to the eserin.
The explanation of micropsia beyond the fixation point is a
much more difficult matter than of that at the fixation point.
I have satisfied myself that it is not due to irradiation. The
experiments under atropin would be sufficient to disprove this,
marked micropsia occurring with effort of accommodation un-
accompanied by alteration in the pupil or dioptric apparatus.
This form of micropsia also occurs with a small artificial pupil
and is present for a white object on a black ground as well as
for black on white. The first to observe the phenomenon,
Ludwig (7 >, was unable to suggest an explanation. Panum's 18 '
explanation was similar to the ordinary explanation of the
micropsia of atropin. He supposed that there is an illusion of
judgment having as its sensory basis the peculiar feeling of
the sensation of accommodation and that the idea of nearness or
farness so arising is translated by an instinctive process into a
judgment of size. He suggests however the possibility " that
the mode of sensation of the visual organ as regards distance
is changed in an unknown and incomprehensible manner
by the nerve excitation which accompanies accommodation."
Stumpfs (10) view resembles very closely that of Panum. The
phenomenon is also mentioned by Martius (11) . He describes an
object beyond the point of fixation as shortened by perspective
and he refers the phenomenon to apparent localisation at the
fixation point.
More satisfactory is the explanation given by Hering< 9 '. He
supposes that the appearance is due to a change in the mutual
relations of the near and far objects. If the hand as the near
object is brought nearer to the eye, the change may be
perceived as an enlargement of the hand or as a diminution in
1 Berry states (Diseases of the Eye, 1893, p. 24) that accommodation
macropsia increases with removal of the object from the eye. My
observations showed a marked increase with approach to the eye.
ON THE APPARENT SIZE OF OBJECTS. 77
size of the distant object, according to the direction of the
attention to the distant or near object respectively ; that when
the hand is near the eyes and is yet perceived as of the same
size as previously at a greater distance, the distant object will
be measured by a different standard ; that the retinal image
will be multiplied by a smaller factor. This explanation
however does not wholly meet the case. Objects beyond the
fixation point may appear smaller when there is no measurable
near object for comparison. Then if a sheet of paper be held
before the eye and its edge fixed, a distant object will appear
to diminish in size when the paper is brought nearer, although
the near object has been a separating line which has not
altered in size. Still more convincing is the objection that the
micropsia occurs when an imaginary near point is fixed and
then an effort of accommodation made for a nearer point in space.
Bering's explanation needs some modification and then
seems to me to meet the case. In his theory of binocular
vision Hering distinguishes between localisation relative to the
fixation point and localisation of the fixation point itself, and
the same distinction may be applied to monocular vision. He
regards the fixation point at any moment as the centre of the
visual space (Kernpunkt des Sehraums) at that moment.
With alteration of the fixation point, the relation of a stationary
object to the visual space as a whole will be altered. If a
point be fixed and an object beyond be moved farther away
from the eye, the object will appear more distant and smaller.
If the fixed point be moved instead of the object, the object
appears more distant and smaller. It is the relation of the
object to the fixation point and not to the eye which determines
the apparent size and distance. The retinal image has re-
mained constant, but, as Hering says, it is multiplied by a
smaller factor with greater distance from the fixation point.
Similarly if the fixation point recedes from the eye, a distant
object appears to have approached the eye and to have become
larger ; the retinal image is multiplied by a larger factor with
decreased distance from the fixation point. The same holds
good of objects nearer than the fixation point ; it is the relation
of the object to the fixation point and not to the eye which
determines its apparent size and distance. It may be objected
that this explanation is little more than a restatement of the
facts of the case. It is however a restatement which em-
phasises the importance of the fixation point as the centre of
the visual space and as the determining factor of the apparent
relations within that space.
Further, this explanation is of interest in relation to the
problem mentioned at the beginning of this paper. So far as
78 W. H. R. RIVERS :
localisation relation to the fixation point goes, there is no
evidence that the alteration of spatial relations is in any way
dependent on accommodation. It is in the localisation of the
fixation point itself that this may play a part, and in this
connection the atropin experiments present several points of
interest. In the normal experiment, the localisation might
have as its basis the sensations arising from the peripheral
accommodation changes. In the atropin experiments the same
phenomena appear in the absence of any peripheral accommoda-
tion, and this seems to point to the fact that the localisation of
the fixation point depends altogether on central factors. Several
objections may be brought forward ; first, that the ciliary
muscle was not completely paralysed. It is not easy to say
that the power of accommodation is completely abolished, but the
appearance occurred after the application of atropin for four
days, and I was unable to detect the existence of any accommoda-
tion. I used fine hairs stretched across a hole in a card. I
could only see the hairs clearly at one distance ; vertical hairs
at 25 cm., horizontal at 32 cm., and when the hairs were
slightly blurred I was unable to make them distinct by any
effort of accommodation. A second possible objection would be
that the localisation depended on associated movements. If I
had only paralysed one eye, the localisation might have been
explained by contraction of the ciliary muscle of the opposite
eye in the same way that G. E. Miiller (12) and James' 13 ' explain
erroneous projection with paralysis of an ocular muscle. I
excluded this by using the atropin to both eyes. A further
possibility however is that the localisation depended on
associated movements of convergence, of eyelids, etc. On
making the efforts to accommodate, I experienced distinct sen-
sations of tension referable to the eyeball and parts around as
generally occur with strong accommodation effort, and it might
be urged that localisation depended on sensations arising from
these peripheral conditions. If this were the case, it seems
unlikely that the changes of apparent size and distance
associated with the effort should have been in no way lessened,
and in fact even increased by removal of the share taken by the
ciliary muscle. I regard these experiments as going far towards
proving that the localisation of the fixation point depends on
central factors, and I may record an observation which bears
out this view. In trying the experiment with the normal eye,
I have seen type beyond the fixation point much diminished in
size but yet distinct and well defined; the accommodation
apparatus must have been adapted for the type, and the
micropsia due to central conditions.
The problem is from one point of view a special case of the
ON THE APPARENT SIZE OF OBJECTS. 79
general question of the sense of effort. Those who advocate its
central origin usually speak of sensations of innervation or of
consciousness of the outgoing impulse. The atropin experi-
ment seems to show that the effort alone to carry out a
movement may produce a sensory change of the same degree of
vividness as occurs when the effort is followed by the movement.
I have throughout described micropsia beyond the fixation
point as a monocular phenomenon. According to Martius
it may be observed with both eyes. I think that this is the
case, bat the observation is not satisfactory owing to the
double images. With distinct double images beyond the
fixation point I have not been able to satisfy myself that
micropsia occurs; certainly it does not occur to the same
extent as with one eye. There is, however, a binocular
phenomenon which is possibly of the same nature, viz. the
apparent small size of the binocular image of two objects
combined by converging the eyes for a point nearer than
the objects. The smaller size of the combined image is in my
case associated with an appearance of greater distance and the
phenomenon may be regarded as an instance of micropsia
beyond the fixation point. One appearance, however, which
does not fit in with this view is that the lateral monocular
images are not appreciably diminished in size. The apparently
large size of the binocular image of two objects combined
by diverging beyond the objects may also be of the same nature
as the monocular phenomenon.
As regards the eserin experiments, I am inclined to regard
the increase in apparent size as an example of the normal
macropsia nearer than the fixation point. The whole region in
which the type appeared large was well within the ordinary
reading distance. It is possible that the enlargement at 15 cm.,
the far limit of distinct vision may have been due to the
diminished size of the pupil and diminished irradiation compared
with the sound eye, and it is possible that the increase in size on
bringing the type nearer was directly due to the increase in the
size of the retinal image, the accommodation apparatus and
fixation point remaining stationary. The pain produced by any
effort to accommodate rendered the observation unsatisfactory,
and may also have tended to keep the fixation point beyond
the object.
I have endeavoured in this paper to show that at least two
kinds of micropsia may be observed as the result of the action
of atropin on the eye ; that one, probably that most commonly
observed, is due solely to irradiation, and depends on dilatation
of the pupil and not on paralysis of accommodation ; that the
other is a phenomenon of normal vision which may be observed
80 W. H. R. RIVERS: ON THE APPARENT SIZE OF OBJECTS.
more easily under atropin, and that this second form lends no
support to the view that peripheral accommodation changes
are factors in spatial perception.
It must be a matter for future investigation to determine
which kind is present in the cases which have been reported
clinically, and the possibility must not be neglected that
micropsia may occur under atropin from causes other than
those I have described.
REFERENCES.
(1) Beitrage zur Theorie d. Sinneswahrnehmung, S. 105.
(2) Zeitsch. f. Psych, u. Phys. d. Sinnesorgane, Bd. vu. S. 97.
1894.
(3) Mind, 1895, p. 195.
(4) Nederlandsch Lancet, 1851, S. 607. Anomalies of Accom-
modation, etc., Syd. Soc. pp. 155 and 587. 1864.
(5) Ophthalmologische Beitrage, S. 69. 1862.
(6) Phys. d. Netzhaut, S. 329. 1865.
(7) Handb. d. Phys. Bd. i. S. 252. 1852.
(8) Arch,f. Ophth. Bd. v. Abth. i. S. 1. 1859.
(9) Beitrage zur Physiologic, Heft I. S. 18. 1861.
(10) Ueber den psych. Ursprung d. Raumvorstellung, S. 202.
1873.
(11) Philosophised Studien, Bd. v. S. 614. 1889.
(12) Zur Grundlegung d. Psychophysik, S. 318. 1878.
(13) Principles of Psychology, vol. n. p. 509.
VI DISCUSSIONS.
THE 'TYPE-THEORY' OF REACTION.
IN the Oct. No. of Mind Professor Titchener devotes some pages to
a very discriminating examination of the recent ' Study' of mine
in The Psychological Review (May, 1895) in which I stated in some
detail a theory announced some time earlier to explain the
variations shown by different reagents in the time of their reactions.
His statement of the question is so full and his quotations of my
statement of it so generous that I need not now do more than refer
the reader to his article, or to mine, for the preliminaries. I may also
waive all discussion as to the method of science in general and
the nature of proof matters of a kind that we either agree upon or
would probably continue to disagree upon. All such machinery out
of the way and I cannot help thinking that Professor Titchener
sometimes allows the dust of his machinery to obscure_his vision I
may be allowed to state a point or two, first on his article, and
afterwards on my theory.
1. The first point made is this : that I was wrong in calling
the ' disposition ' or ' Anlage ' view a ' theory.' That, certainly, is
true ; and I claim, as Professor Titchener grants my right to, that
my theory goes farther, in attempting to give a psychological
explanation of reaction rather than a simple statement of fact.
2. Professor Titchener's explanations regarding what he calls
the Anlage of the reagent, and the quotations from the works
of others on the same point, still seem to me, in spite of the
' four-fold root of sufficient reason ' which he presents in numerical
order, to be open to my original charge of circulum in probando.
He says, first, that, in Lange's words, " there are certain persons
who are incapable of reacting consistently in the sensorial or
muscular way." This I not only admit, but expect as a natural
circumstance, if the truth be what my theory says it is. The man
of the sensory type, ray case of F, for example, complained of just
this difficulty : he found himself almost incapable of reacting in the
muscular way, being a musician and a man of the auditory type.
Is it better to explain this man's condition, first finding out about
him all that we can, or to drive him out of the laboratory ? Then,
under the same heading, Professor Titchener cites Wundt's version
of the same incapable man in these words : " there are individuals
M. 6
82 J. MARK BALDWIN:
who are entirely incapable of any steady concentration of the
attention." This I also admit the asylums are full of them and
I also admit that they are better out of the laboratory. But this
is a very different class from those persons described by Lange ;
and it is just the confusion of the two kinds of people that makes
Mr Titchener's whole position a false one. I find that my case F, if
I am patient and do not turn him out too hastily, shows a remark-
able power of concentration of his attention upon sounds : he can
beat all the laboratory besides at that. And in other directions his
attention is very fine. He is, in fact, a high-stand man in his
university-work generally. So he is in no sense one of Wundt's
class who are incapable of any steady concentration of the attention.
On the contrary, he can concentrate his attention splendidly,
provided we allow him to do it his own way. Assuming then that
Wundt stated just what he meant, I quite agree with him ; provided
his usage go no farther than his words. But coming to the question
of usage in the Leipsic laboratory and speaking only by the book,
we find these words in Professor Titchener's article in Wundt's
Studi&n.
After saying that his results ought to be published : " Weil die
Zahlen auf einer strengen Durchfiihrung des zwischen den sogenann-
ten sensoriellen und muscularen Reactionen existierenden Unter-
schieds beruhen, und daher theils Abweichungen von den friiher
erhaltenen Zahlen aufweisen, theils zur Erklarung der innerhalb
dieser vorhandenen Unregelmassigkeiten dienen kbnnen," he goes
on to report L " Mitarbeiter in diesem Theil der Untersuchung sind
neun Herrn gewesen. Sichere Resultate habe ich jedoch nur von
zweien ausser mir selbst gewinnen konnen." (Phil. Studien, vui.
s. 138.)
Now, does Mr Titchener mean to say that these three alone
of the nine were capable of any ' steady concentration of the
attention ' 1 If not so, then where are the six ? Are the six
' incapable of introspection,' as another of Professor Titchener's
authorities is quoted to have put it ? I happen to know about some
of the six, and can say that the average ability of the patrons of the
Leipsic laboratory is not as low as this procedure would seem
to indicate. So Professor Titchener is not following Wundt's
formula of exclusion ; he is rather following his own and Lange's
formula, and by it excluding all who are ' incapable of reacting
consistently in the sensorial or muscular way.' If one-third of
mankind are to be taken to prove that a result is a universal
principle, the rest being deliberately excluded because they cannot
get the result that the one-third do, then what conclusions could
not be proved in well-managed psychological laboratories ? It would
be interesting indeed it would be the only possible justification of
the procedure to have the partial results which the other two-
thirds did give, with the criticism of them on the ground of which
they were thrown out.
3. Mr Titchener then says that my charge that the " Leipsic
THE 'TYPE-THEORY' OF REACTION. 83
school 'rules out' results which do not accord with the Leipsic
theory, but are nevertheless constant and regular results, is
altogether unfounded " quoting passages again from Leumann and
Kiilpe to the effect that due regard should be had to individual
differences among reagents. The only results ruled out, he says,
' are those which are wholly irregular and inconstant.' To this I
have two replies to make. First, I may ask : if this be true, why
does not Mr Titchener accept the results of Flournoy, Cattell, and
myself, which show tables of cases whose reactions were as regular
and constant as the Leipsic results, but which fail to show the
sensorial-muscular relation which the Leipsic school believe in. I
shall say a word more on this question of relative accuracy of result
farther on. And second, Professor Titchener overlooks one of the
essential factors in the case the factor in the case, to wit, that
relative regularity and constancy may be just the thing we are
observing. Results may be regularly irregular : and that is just
the contrary case to the one which he looks exclusively for, i.e., the
case of results which are regularly regular. In ruling out all results
which are irregular, the Leipsic school beg the question. In
matters of the attention it is evident that steadiness, uniformity,
ease of fixation, is the opposite of hesitation, now-good-now-bad,
easy-then-difficult, effects. And it is just a part of the phenomenon
that my theory attempts to bring to recognition, that the case
in reaction is exactly this normal and common kind of variation.
Irregularity, therefore, may arise from difficulty in getting the
required image or content held up for attention. And I think that
the Leipsic school have to recognise and act upon the same principle
as soon as they come to ask for the slightest shadow of explanation
of their own distinction between the two kinds of reaction. In
short, to put my position briefly on this point, I should say that
irregularity of result might occur and we actually have cases of it
on each side in either kind of reaction, and if one should determine
beforehand to rule out all cases of such irregularity of the muscular
kind, then he might find one-third of his cases remaining to serve as
basis of a formulation exactly the opposite of that held by the
Leipsic school.
I have, further, to thank Professor Titchener for quoting the
passage from Kiilpe to the effect that " if a person is incapable of
any vivid ideation of a sense impression, he will give the appropriate
direction to his attention by the formation of a corresponding
judgment, or by help of the organic sensations arising from the
strain set up in the organ of sense or of movement, or perhaps by
visual ideas of the stimulus or of the required movement. But it is
probable that certain differences in the determination of reaction
times are largely referable to the differences in the form of expecta-
tion." This is my view. It is only another way of saying that
these things should be taken into account, and that all variations
in individuals should be counted. Professor Flournoy's case is
especially valuable as enabling us to follow up one of the variations
62
84 J. MARK BALDWIN:
which Kiilpe hints at ; and my research into the variation between
' visual motor ' and ' kinaesthetic motor ' reactions is a deliberate
attempt to clear up one of these distinctions. Kiilpe wrote in the
same passage : ' so far there has been no accurate discrimination of
all these forms of muscular and sensorial preparation.' How then,
I may ask, can he say beforehand that the muscular form will turn
out in each case to be shorter than the sensorial 1 One of the merits
of the ' type-theory ' is just that it gives us natural lines of advance
along which to direct these further investigations.
4. When, therefore, Professor Titchener says that my " demand
for a statement of the origin and meaning of the ' disposition ' is a
demand for the impossible," I have only to cite certain practical
considerations to meet his views as to the intrinsic obscureness
of 'nurture, of heredity and education,' as far as this topic involves
those things. Is not the fact that F is a musician, something of an
explanation of his auditive ' disposition ' ? Is not the fact that
a man having certain defects of vision has also difficulty in giving
visual attention, in so far a reason for his long visual reaction ? Is
there not now a mass of pathological evidence proving that move-
ment of a limb may be impossible if visual, auditory, or other types
of attention cannot be brought into play? And is not this in
so far the ground of a theory of the variations which these men
show when they are well 1 In short, is not the pathological theory
which I have used in working out the 'type-theory' of reaction just
a theory of the variations produced by ' nurture, heredity, and
education ' ? But even if, theoretically, ' dispositions ' are obscure,
we should be sure that we have ' caught the rabbit ' before we decide
that he is not worth cooking ; and this is the task which the
' type-theory ' sets itself to investigate the so-called ' dispositions '
and find out what they really are.
Professor Titchener then goes on to examine the evidence upon
which my theory rests. I may say before taking up the points
which he makes, that I by no means admit the implication that I have
anywhere stated all the evidence in what I may call the form of a
catalogue as he is fond of doing ; on the contrary, the article
he quotes is mainly the report of a research, and the general con-
siderations are very schematic. I hope later to do more justice to
the evidence as a whole. So I shall now only comment on the
evidence as he states it, not as I should state it.
1. He objects to my cases on the ground that they were not
tested as to their type. Now, in spite of Mr Titchener's assertion
that ' there are many methods of testing type,' I may say that I do
not know of any that are conclusive except those of introspection
and pathology. I believe that in most cases a very safe conclusion
can be reached by questioning the subject in a variety of ways,
i.e., by using the method of introspection. This I have done with
my cases, and it is only a phase of the incompleteness of my article,
when looked at from a ' catalogue' point of view, that I did not
state it. Professor Titchener is quite right in asking for it ; and
THE ' TYPE-THEORY ' OF REACTION. 85
later I shall furnish it. He would do psychology a service, however,
if he would publish some of the ' many methods of testing type, apart
from the reaction method.'
2. He says of my results : ' ' four persons reacted to sound.
Two of them, B and S, carried out the investigation of which the
present 'Study' is a report : presumably, therefore, they had the type
theory in mind throughout. Whether the other two reacted with
or without knowledge, we are not told. The greatest reliance is
placed upon the times of B and S." Of this I have again two
things to say : first, that the research was carried out largely in
Toronto at the time when I (7?) still accepted the Leipsic distinction
as a general one ; and my present theory was arrived at only after I
had subsequently secured the results reported in the table of F, and
largely on the basis of that table, which forced me to alter my
former view. This shows for itself in the tables, in both my case
and that of S he too had no such theory when he gave the
reactions for we are the very two who do not contradict the
sensorial-muscular distinction ! What Mr Titchener means by
saying 'the greatest reliance is placed upon the times of B and
S' passes my comprehension. As also any ground he may have
for the unhandsome charge that I have changed my reaction- times
since I wrote my book on Senses and Intellect. It looks to me like
a case either of the extremest carelessness as to self-contradiction,
or of ' bluff.' Of course I do not accuse him of the latter : but why
strain to make a point which is contradicted by the table which he
himself constructs out of mine ] It can only deceive the non-elect.
My results still show the Leipsic distinction as they always did ; so
do Mr Shaw's (S). Mine have only changed in that the distinction
is less marked than it used to be ; and this I go the trouble to
explain in the same article as probably due to habit and practice
as my theory again seems at least not to contradict. The times of
B and S, therefore, are very neutral to the discussion : that of F
and, as far as examined, that of T, are the ones on which
'greatest reliance' is placed of all which I have myself in-
vestigated.
3. Now as to accuracy of result the point which comes up
next. Professor Titchener criticises my tables as to certain
results which show variation, quoting only the figures for B and S.
'These variations,' says he, 'call for special explanation.' Yes, they
do ; and I can give it. But as I have said, these are the two cases
which have no great bearing on the discussion a kind of citation
which, if I were criticised by one whose standing I did not know, I
should say showed incompetency or playing to the galleries. The
two cases which are important to my argument and which go with
those of other observers to prove the ' type-theory ' are those of F
and C, as I may again repeat. In the case of F the difference
between the sensorial and muscular reactions is 40 o- and in that of
C it is 25 a: Is it competent argumentation, in view of these
figures, to say: 'Professor Baldwin argues from time-differences (22,
86 J. MARK BALDWIN:
18, 21 <r),' with no shadow of reference to the other cases, especially
after declaring, without any accuracy, that I placed ' greatest
reliance upon the times of B and $.' The only possible point in my
article to which such criticism would apply is the distinction
between 'visual motor' and ' kinaesthetic motor' reactions, where I
do use the results of B and S. But that is quite another topic ; and
while to have confused the two may, in a measure, excuse Pro-
fessor Titchener's error, it is, I am bound to say, most unfortunate.
For in that case, how can Professor Titchener go on to say :
" Nevertheless it must be admitted that the tables show some
striking results, and that the construction of the type-theory
out of them is very ingenious." This would seem to show that
the writer of the sentence did see the bearing of the times of
F and C after all, and yet did not cite them in his quotation of
figures.
4. Flournoy's case. Professor Titchener gives the details of
this case sufficiently. He dismisses it with these words : "All that
they [i. e. the Leipsic school] would say is that the ' physical
possibility' to react muscularly is not, in [our] laboratory experience,
a feature of the normal or average mental constitution. Con-
sequently, the mind so constituted cannot be drawn upon to furnish
norms of reaction : however interesting its workings may be in
other connections." This summary exclusion of cases has been
spoken of above. So far from disposing of the case it shows, in my
mind, the plainest confession of inability to do anything with it.
It amounts to saying : ' this case was investigated ; it ought not to
have been investigated : the results were published ; they ought to
have been suppressed.'
Other cases are then taken up, i.e. those of Professor Cattell,
from whom a letter is cited quoting his two reagents J and D.
Cattell says that D supports the type-theory, and that J gives no
difference between the two kinds of reaction a fact which, of
course, fails to support the Leipsic distinction. Professor Cattell
then gives a case (unpublished) of a reagent who gave a slower
reaction for sound than for light while distracted ' by not knowing
where the sound was.' When this cause of distraction was removed
'his reaction (to sound) became much quicker and more regular.'
Cattell says this case 'supports your (Titchener's) point of view';
and Professor Titchener, on the ground of this common phenomenon
of distraction of attention, dismisses the evidence from Professor
Cattell's cases with the phrase 'honours are divided.' Professor
Cattell, on the other hand, in the same letter declares in favour of
the type-theory in these words : " My own idea is that an unusual
direction of the attention lengthens the reaction time, and that
when the reaction has been much practised it becomes reflex." If
Professor Titchener can get any comfort from the unpublished case
mentioned, it is well, but to me it seems to be quite easy of
explanation. The person is uncertain what he is to attend to in
certain respects, and so cannot attend quickly or well; as soon,
THE 'TYPE-THEORY' OF REACTION. 87
however, as this cause of uncertainty is removed, he can. There is
no question here as between types of attention ; it is rather a
question of good attention and bad attention. And the result is
what the type-theory says it is : with the attention bad, the reaction
was long; with attention good, it was short. The case is too
meagre to be of any value except as a tendency case were it not
that Professor Titchener uses it again below, forgetting all the
proper demands made earlier in his paper for exact figures. As to
the Donders case it is pure surmise one way and the other ; I
cited it in my other paper only as showing the length that the
Leipsic people are willing to go with their distinctions.
As to additional cases from which the author says I do not
claim support, it is equally true that I make no reference to them,
again not writing a ' catalogue' : the main reason that I did not
'claim' certain other cases recorded in the literature of the topic,
was that I thought the cases cited were sufficient.
So much then for the 'evidence for the type- theory.' I submit
that it is strengthened by Mr Titchener's examination of it. And
there is, besides, the great mass of evidence drawn from the
pathology of the motor functions, and from the general principles of
habit and relative accommodation of the attention, which are stated
at some length in my article. All this field is untouched by the
examination of our author, although it is there that apart from the
actual cases reported I lay ' greatest reliance.'
But Mr Titchener is not yet done; he next cites 'evidence
against the type-theory.' And what he cites he himself describes as
'these two negative instances' i.e. of himself, and of Binet's case
of M. Inaudi. As to Professor Titchener's case, as he reports it
from his impressions of his own mental life, he simply shows, with
quotations from my book on Mental Development also in support
of it, that type differs in the same individual for different functions,
and 'shifts' with education for the same function. Both of these
points I admit ; and I have put both of them in evidence in the
book quoted : but how do they bear against the type-theory of
reaction ? They do not. The reason it is a type-theory is just that
it allows for such variations ; and it matters not whether the
variation, in any case, be in a person or in a function. And indeed,
the very ground of origin of types is to be found in education, which
must necessarily apply to single functions. But I do not think that
the little practice that one may give himself in a year or two, or in
the case of one function or two, is likely to alter the general type of
his reactions ; that goes in most cases deeper down in the habits of
one's life. This is all that Professor Titchener's case shows, and
even then are we not taking very general statements for figures?
Why has not Professor Titchener tested himself for type by some of
his 'many methods'? He seems to forget those 'many methods'
when he now says : ' the elucidation of a memory type is by no
means an easy matter.'
The other case, that of M. Inaudi, is to my mind unavailable.
88 J. MARK BALDWIN:
Inaudi is a prodigy of mathematics, investigated by Binet and
found to be dependent upon hearing in his calculations. Professor
Titchener draws the inference, and it seems that Binet did also, that
he should give a remarkably short auditory reaction compared with
his other sensorial times. This he did not, when investigated ; and
so he is now cited as evidence against my theory. Of course I
reply as Mr Titchener supposed I should, that this does not show
anything about his muscular reaction. And further it is quite too
abnormal a case to show anything about the relation of the different
kinds of sensory reactions to each other. This arithmetical work on
the part of such prodigies is not to be accounted for as due to habit,
practice, training of the attention, &c., the usual ground of type
distinctions ; it is rather a variation of an obscure kind, some sort
of a twist of which we know really nothing, and in it Professor
Titchener ought to recognise an Atilage if there ever was one, and
promptly rule it out of the laboratory. I quite agree with M. Binet
in saying in the passage which Mr Titchener quotes : " It must not
be supposed that M. Inaudi is an auditive outside of his professional
exercises in calculation. He is an auditive for calculation, i.e., for
one partial, special, sharply denned memory." It seems to me quite
likely if this freaky calculating gift be amenable to any rules
that for this function his muscular reaction would be longer than
the sensory. But for his other senses it seems to me also probable
that he was reacting all the time in a muscular way. And even
though M. Inaudi gave all his reactions with muscular attention as
Professor Titchener supposes, how does that in any way 'tell heavily
against the type-theory '? That theory does not say that no one
shall react in that way if he want to. In that case one would only
have to suppose that Inaudi's reactions of the two kinds to sound
were about equal and both very short. This is supported by the
lack of conclusive evidence that he was much more auditive than
motor, even in his calculating.
After all this rather tiring discussion, in which there is on both
sides too much hair-splitting, hypothetical interpretation of cases,
and conjecture as to what a reagent ' ought ' to do on this view or
on that, I find relief in turning to one or two of the larger bearings
of the subject. They may be taken to be a further statement of
aspects of the general position now sufficiently well characterized by
the phrase 'type-theory.' At the same time, I desire to thank
Professor Titchener for the careful consideration he has given to my
point of view.
1. It is not a necessary corollary from the type-theory that a
subject be of the same type in his reactions with the hand to
sounds, sights, &c. that he is in his speech. I think, as I said in
my earlier article, that this is oftener so than not ; and it was this
thought that first led me to look to the general doctrine of types for
an explanation of the variations in different persons' times. We
find that speech itself may vary in its type very remarkably in the
same individual from one language to another, especially when the
THE 'TYPE-THEORY' OF REACTION. 89
conditions of learning have been fairly consistent and of long dura-
tion. The case described by Ballet, and my own sense of relative
contrast in type as between my use of French and German l , are
instances of this. And the pathological instances of damage to the
brain which incapacitates the patient from using one language while
another may remain intact together with many interesting minor
variations tend to furnish evidence in the same direction. It
should not surprise us, therefore, if it should finally become evident,
in any subject, that a hand-function, such, say, as hand-writing, was
most readily stimulated by some other centre in the brain than that
which serves for the ' cue ' to speech ; giving in the same person one
type for writing and another for speech. I am concerned to say
this here since in the same article Professor Titchener holds me
somewhat strictly to the complete parallelism between speech, on
the one hand, and hand-functions on the other, interpreting my
statements that way with some right to, certainly, from the partial
statements of my earlier papers.
2. An important requirement, which Professor Titchener has
not brought up against the type-theory, is yet to be fulfilled ; and I
hope to go into the consideration of it and the point mentioned
immediately above when I publish the further experimental results
which are accumulating in my laboratory. The requirement is this :
should not any theory of the variations in the relative lengths of
the two sorts of reaction in different individuals give some kind of
an account of the great disproportion between the number of cases
which give a shorter muscular, as against those which give a shorter
sensorial, reaction- time ? Professor Titchener may find it difficult
to formulate such a requirement, since it would seem to commit him
to the recognition of some instances of the latter. But those of us
who believe in testing everybody, and in making the differences
themselves fruitful data for theory, are bound to recognize the
disproportion spoken of, although, for myself, I think when more
laboratory workers take persons just as they come, the relative
numbers will probably be more evenly adjusted.
Yet, as far as this disproportion does exist, as it appears to, I
think it really bears out the analogy of reactions generally with
speech. The discussions recently published on so-called 'internal
speech ' turn, it will be remembered, not on the question as to
whether there are the same number of cases of persons sensory as
motor in their speech ; but rather on the question whether all men
are not motor. As I have put the question elsewhere, for con-
venience in grouping the evidence pro and con, ' are the kinsesthetic
memory centres intrinsic to speech,' or not 1 * There is a school of
physiologists and psychologists, represented by Strieker of Vienna,
who go so far as to deny that any persons can speak without the
1 See my Mental Development: Methods and Processes, pp. 435, 461
note. Ballet's case is to be found in his Le langage interieur, p. 62.
2 Philos. Review, July 1893, p. 386, incorporated in Mental Development,
Chap. xiv.
90 WILLIAM W. CARLILE :
incipient stimulation of the motor organs involved. They seem to
me to be for that discussion about in the position that the Leipsic
people are for the discussion of reaction. And while the case for
speech seems to be going clearly against them on pathological
grounds, yet they have by far the larger number of cases. The
literature seems to show a great disproportion of cases in favour of
the motor aphasias : and that fact has seemed to keep back the
recognition of the sensory cases. Those who are familiar with the
literature of aphasia will, I think, agree that the type-theory has
had this obstacle to contend with. So, while I may not stop here to
make good the indications now noted of the state of the facts in
regard to aphasia, perhaps sufficient has been said to show that, far
from being a difficulty to the type-theory of reaction that the dis-
proportion of cases is as it is, it rather seems to extend and
strengthen the analogy with the mechanism of speech.
P.S. Since writing and despatching the article above, I have
received a letter from Professor James R. Angell of the University
of Chicago which promises further experimental confirmation of the
type-theory. He says, under date of Nov. 9, 1895 : "It may interest
you, in connection with Titchener's criticism of your theory for
reaction time peculiarities, to know that at the very time your
article appeared, I had all ready a considerable body of experiments
remarkably similar to yours from which I had drawn conclusions
absurdly like your own. I decided to postpone publishing until I
could supplement them with more detailed work. I hope to get the
thing into print before long. It seems to substantiate entirely the
general principle underlying your view, although introducing some
minor modifications."
J. MARK BALDWIN.
CAUSATION. ITS ALLEGED UNIVERSALITY.
(1) I endeavoured to indicate in a recent paper what, as it
seemed to me, were some of the transformations of meaning which
the all-important word " cause " undergoes, in the course of the
development of language. With regard to any such word, it is safe
to take it for granted that the primary meaning is something objec-
tive and palpable. Simple acts, such as the moving of a book, or
the filling of a glass, stand for us as the types of causation. The
meaning of the word must therefore have travelled far before it can
have come to be applied to such shadowy entities as Gravity or
Affinity, which are, in the last analysis, mere expressions for the
fact that the occurrence which they are said to cause will take
place.
(2) How the transition comes about is traceable as follows.
The type meaning is the act of a living being, not necessarily the
CAUSATION. ITS ALLEGED UNIVERSALITY. 91
conscious or intentional act. I might move a thing by accident and
would still be thought of as causing its change of place quite as
certainly as if I moved it with intention. The meaning here is
confined to this : that there happens the action of one thing on
another, and action which, for a moment, forms to sense part of the
same phenomenon with the result. As, however, most of the acts
either of ourselves or others, of which we are cognizant, are conscious
and intentional acts, intention soon comes to enter into the signifi-
cation of the word. We think of everything that is made or done
as being made or done intentionally. In intentional acts, again,
there is always this feature, that they are copies of some previous
act. In the intentional act, we copy an idea, and the idea again has
been copied from some previous act. All intentional acts have thus
the element of repetition about them. They are actions done by
rule. We can obviously frame no rule ordering us to vary our
action each moment, and instructing us how to vary it. The very
nature of a rule is that it orders us to repeat in the future, and in
other circumstances, something that has already taken place in the
past. The rule for making a straight line is to continue the motion
begun in the same direction, to go on repeating, as regards direction,
the part first made. The kaleidoscope, by repeating any irregular
figure, makes a regular one, that is, one seemingly or really con-
structed by rule. Our attention being now fixed on this aspect of
the conception, we drop intention itself out of sight, and think of a
cause as that which, whatever it is, tends to bring about action by
apparent rule, action which is the repetition of uniformities. In
this meaning cause approaches the signification of natural law. The
original meaning of cause, however, in which there is no implication
either of intention or of uniformity, still continues to be used con-
currently, and it may be interchangeably, with the new meaning;
and this circumstance is evidently capable of becoming a fertile
source of fallacy and confusion.
(3) The doctrine of the universality of causation is often, if not
ordinarily, looked upon as standing on ground which is quite impreg-
nable. I question, however, whether, as applicable to anything but
abstractions, it really stands on any ground which is more satisfac-
tory than this, that when a thing is not caused in one sense, it is,
for the most part at any rate, caused in another. Every affirmation
of any characteristic as universal is ipso facto suspect. It is a
familiar truth that as the extent of a concept widens its content
diminishes, and the conclusion seems to be unavoidable that when
the extent becomes universal the content must be zero. If it is the
case that even legitimate extensions of the denotation thus weaken
the connotation, much more is it the case that illegitimate extensions
do. To take an example from the history of philosophy : Hume
places the mathematical axioms in one class, the law of cause and
effect in another. His followers think they will go a step further.
They concur with Hume in regarding the law of cause and effect
whatever they mean by that expression as a truth of experience
92 WILLIAM w. CARLILE:
only, but add that the axioms of mathematics are nothing more
than this either. The result is, of course, to defeat their own object.
If their view were accepted, it would follow that the law of cause
and effect would be regarded as, at any rate, as axiomatic as the
axioms, and no one could have ever contended for more than that.
Similarly, if anyone propounds or accepts the opinion that all the
owners of landed property 'are "robbers," or that all the persons
in the enjoyment of independent incomes are " social parasites,"
"robber" and "parasite," silently and unconsciously perhaps, but
none the less certainly, drop for him all their vituperatory connota-
tion, and become "robber" and "parasite" in the Pickwickian sense
only ; something that innumerable good citizens are, and that all
without exception desire to become. Language not based on nature
depreciates in meaning as certainly as a currency not based on
nature depreciates in value. Let us say that everything is unreal,
that everything is illusory, and the assertion amounts to nothing
for us ; unless indeed it be to drag a red herring across the scent,
and to prevent us from endeavouring to discriminate those elements
in sense and thought which are in truth illusory or symbolic from
those which are not so. If causation were, as Mill affirms it to be,
true of all successive phenomena, it is hard to see how it could be
anything but a synonym for succession. So, if anyone asserts that
it is universal, and that such a thing as chance does not exist at all,
he should make it his business, first, to show how any characteristic
can be universal without becoming nugatory ; and, secondly, to show
how, if chance does not exist at all, it happens that we have a word
for it to which we attach a very distinct and definite meaning ; and
how it happens that writers who deny its existence on one page have
to discuss its nature and its mode of operation on the next.
(4) Suppose I throw the dice and they turn up fours, what is
the cause of this conjunction taking place rather than of any other 1
We have made the dice regular in shape and homogeneous in sub-
stance, so as to eliminate any constant cause, that is, any cause
acting by apparent rule, which would determine the fall in favour of
one combination of numbers rather than of another. The cause
then lies in the nature of our act, but is there, in that, any cause
working by rule either actually or conceivably? The causes which
determined the fall of fours this time instead of threes, as last time,
were, no doubt, to be found in the difference between my actions in
putting the dice into the box, in holding it, and in throwing them
on the table, on this occasion, and on the former one. These differ-
ences, however, were something that then appeared for the first
time in the world, and, being entirely unrecallable by memory,
can never to our knowledge appear again. No rule or appearance
of a rule even can possibly be applicable to them. The completest
possible resemblance to the past can only assist us to guess the
future, in as far as the future resembles the past. In as far as
anything varies from everything in the past, it is an event towards
the prediction of which even perfect experience could render us
CAUSATION. ITS ALLEGED UNIVERSALITY. 93
no assistance whatever. We have a method therefore of deciding
whether any conjunction of events is subject to causation, in the
sense in which causation is synonymous with law, by asking : is it
a conjunction towards the prediction of which any conceivable
experience could assist us ? In this case it plainly is not. The
nature of the throw depends on acts which, in their salient particu-
lars, resemble nothing in the past, and cannot anyhow be made to
resemble anything, or even to approximate, in the smallest degree,
towards anything in resemblance, any more closely than they do
already. The fact that we can guess how many times in a hundred
any special throw will occur, though a fact that is interesting in
itself, is not one that in the least assists us to guess what throw
will occur next time. In Meteorology, science takes it for granted
that the difficulty of prediction springs out of the imperfection of
our knowledge, an imperfection which it always hopes to remedy ;
in the doctrine of chances on the contrary, it takes it for granted
that it springs out of the nature of things. If, however, the result
of the throw is not determined by any cause whatever in the sense
in which cause is equivalent to law, how is it, it will be asked, that
we so unhesitatingly ascribe it to a cause, viz. to the particular force
and direction of our throw ? It is simply because, in doing so, we
revert to the primary meaning of cause, the meaning which contains
no thought of rule or uniformity, but comprises merely the notion
of external action that dovetails into the result. If sixes turned up
steadily more than once in thirty-six times, over a large number of
throws, we should say there was certainly some cause for the dice
falling as they did, the implication being that when nothing like this
happens no cause, in our opinion, has made itself felt. If then, next
moment, we assign a cause, what can be more obvious than that it
is in a different sense that we assign it?
(5) To take another instance ; we subject two sets of chemical
elements to the same conditions ; the result is, in each case, identi-
cal. When oxygen and hydrogen combine, we can be quite sure
that the result will be not something very like water, which, however,
varies slightly from it, in some of its properties, but that it will be
water with a perfect resemblance, in all respects, to the water that
we have known in the past. In the inorganic world, as far, at any
rate, as the qualities of things are concerned, causation, in the sense
of action guided by unvarying rule, is universal. The experience of
the past, when only sufficiently complete and unerring, is a perfectly
adequate guide to the prediction of the future. When Life enters
on the scene, all is altered. If we put two seeds, off the same plant,
into the ground and subject them, in as far as we can, to identical
conditions, the result will only be closely similar but never identical,
and may now and then present a very pronounced variation. The
proportion between the degree of the variations and the approxima-
tion to identity in the conditions, is not such as to lead us to believe
that if we could make the conditions absolutely identical the result
would be identical. The contrary conclusion indeed may be taken
94 WILLIAM W. CARLILE :
as established, that even if the conditions were made identical, varia-
tions would still ensue. In as far as such variations, small or great,
really vary from everything in the past, it is obvious and manifest
that even omniscient experience, so long as it was experience only,
could give us not the smallest assistance in guessing at their probable
nature. Causation, in the sense of action by rule, ceases altogether
to be applicable to them. They are, on the contrary, the source of
all that is new in the world. In this case, moreover, there is no
such thing as external action. Antecedent causation, therefore,
cannot in any sense rightly be predicated of them. They are, so far
as human knowledge goes, the acts of the organism itself, and are
reducible to no rule, predictable by no experience.
(6) If there is no inherent absurdity in supposing that, at the
present stage of the world's development, the history of the past
would furnish data for the prediction of the remote future, then it
is hard to see why there should be any absurdity in supposing that
it would furnish similar data at any previous stage we choose to fix
upon. Yet who would maintain that the experience of the mollusc
could furnish data for predicting the instincts of the dog, or that the
experience of prehistoric savages could furnish data for predicting
the Herbartian psychology ? The life of the future, however, may
diverge, not less but infinitely more widely from anything in the
present than the life of the present has diverged from that of the
past. If the whole future, however, is not calculable, then even the
immediate future is not calculable with precision, and the whole
theory falls to the ground.
(7) The truth is, the theory very plainly confuses supernatural
knowledge of the future with knowledge based on experience. Mr
Mill says (Logic, n. p. 406) "given the motives which are present to
an individual's mind, and given likewise the character and disposition
of the individual, the manner in which he will act may be unerringly
inferred." The fallacy lies in the words " given the character." If
by the character being " given " is meant that we are supposed to
know, as God alone can, how a man will act in any given circum-
stances, then there is nothing left to infer, and the dictum is mean-
ingless. If by its being "given" is meant only that we have as
much knowledge of it as experience of the past can give us, then
there is no such thing as unerring inference with regard to it. A
man who thinks that he knows his own character thoroughly is often
amazed at the manner in which he finds that he acts, in unexpected
circumstances. Natural law is often taken, even by accurate writers,
as if it meant something that excluded variation. A truer view is
that it is, like the Civil Law, " a limit of variation." As regards the
phenomena of life, however, it is not a definite limit. We can say
of such natural kinds as silver, or mercury, that, at certain precise
temperatures, and under certain precise pressures, they are solid, or
liquid, or vapour. Of such a natural kind as Man all that we can say
with precision is, perhaps, that he will not be born with his head
between his shoulders, or that, if his parents are pure blooded whites,
CAUSATION. ITS ALLEGED UNIVERSALITY. 95
he will not be black. At any rate, the precise statement can only
be made precise by being made negative. No precise positive state-
ment in regard to him is valid. " The fewest and simplest assump-
tions which being granted the whole existing order of nature would
result " (Mill's Logic, I. p. 327) are, in addition to the laws of matter
and motion, the specific nature of every past and of every present
living thing.
(8) If this view of the scope of natural law diverges somewhat
widely from current formulas, it must be remembered that current
formulas fail to square with the possibility of anything new ever
occurring in the world, and would reduce all living action to the cate-
gory of mechanism, a category to which it evidently does not belong.
The natural man has a healthy conviction that his action in the
world is capable of having not only an apparent but a real effect in
promoting or in hindering the welfare of himself, his country, or his
race. He knows that what he does now will give rise to an endless
series of good or evil effects in the future. It is this conviction that,
in Carlyle's view, has taken shape, in the world, in the doctrine of
eternal rewards and eternal punishments. The natural man will
do well not to discard it as an illusion, at the instance of any meta-
physical theory, without making quite sure first, that the theory is
not really built on the fallacious use of one word in two senses.
(9) The world owes to the speculations of Herbart and Lotze
the clear recognition of the fact that the cause in itself, and apart
altogether from the effect, is never to be viewed as one thing, but
always as the interaction of two. Thus while " cause " covers a
wider sphere of signification than "law" in one direction, as com-
prising, in all instances, external action whether characterized by
uniformity or not ; " law " covers a wider sphere than " cause " in
another direction ; as being applicable to uniformities which are the
result of immanent action, as well as to uniformities which are the
result of external action. Mr Mill exhorts us to discard the ideas
connected with the words " Agent " and " Patient " as being popular
and unscientific. If, instead of discarding them, he had enquired into
their significance, this truth at any rate might have been brought
home to him. Hume continually speaks of the causal connection
between two "objects," and Reid and Mill both discuss such a
question as why we do not call night the cause of day. We cannot
call night, in such a case, a cause at all, because there is no complex
element in it ; there is no thought of Agent and Patient, and of the
interaction between the two. Mill's own account of the reason why
we do not call it so, is found really to be based on this reason. We
do not call it the cause of day, he thinks, because, though it is the
invariable antecedent, it is not the invariable conditional antecedent.
Both night and day are viewed as being together dependent on other
causes. It is just as in the case of the train 1 , we do not think of the
front carriages as being the cause of the motion of the carriages
1 Instanced in my paper in a previous number.
96 W. W. CARLILE : CAUSATION. ITS ALLEGED UNIVERSALITY.
behind, but of the motion of both as being due to a common cause,
the Engine. In the relation of the engine to the train there is the
thought of agent and patient and of their interaction. In the mere
antecedence of one carriage to another there is no thought of the sort.
(10) Two classes of cases of interaction between agent and
patient have to be broadly distinguished. In the one there is simply
action a tergo of the agent on the patient, and there the phenomenon
ends. In these the causation is self-evident ; it is fully understood.
As Mr Mill puts it, in referring to the connection between the
sun's presence above the horizon and daylight, it is necessary.
Such a case would be our type instance of the moving of a book. In
another class of cases, the action of the agent on the patient is
followed by a subsequent reaction springing out of the nature of the
patient itself ; and such cases as this form the type of truths of
experience 1 . If I move a stone from a position where it is support-
ed to one where it is unsupported, and let it go, the phenomenon
does not end with my action ; the stone further falls earthwards.
It is to be observed, however, that every case of causation proper of
the latter sort comprises a case of the former sort, as part of it. If
we stop at the fact of the letting go of the stone, and exclude the
thought of what follows, we have a case of the former sort. The dis-
tinction between them, in such a case, is an abstract distinction
only. The one, we may view as the cause of the event, the other, as
the cause of the uniformity. The two are related, in nature, as the
Major and Minor premisses of the syllogism are, in reasoning. The
Gravity of the stone is the Major premiss, and corresponds to the
antecedent knowledge "All stones fall earthwards, if left unsupport-
ed in space." My act in letting it go corresponds to the Minor
"This stone is unsupported in space"; from which the conclusion
that it will fall earthwards unfailingly follows. The syllogism is, in
truth, what it claims to be, the universal formula of reasoning, and
not a meaningless petitio principii. A conclusion that belongs to
the future cannot be begged by us in the present. The Minor is not
to be regarded as the recitation of something for the knowledge of
which we draw on Memory or authority ; but as the recognition of
an event that occurs, in the continual flux of things, at the very
moment of its occurrence. It is to be observed, too, that it thus
appears that the Minor, in cases of natural inference, must always
be a singular proposition, never a universal We cannot observe
universals at a glance. The only cases in which it can be a univer-
sal are cases in which intercourse comes into play ; and in which it
is, perhaps, the admission of an opponent, or, at any rate, is derived,
in some way, from authority, while the process of reasoning is still
in progress.
1 Science, of course, teaches us subsequently that there is always re-
action on the part of the patient. For the present purpose, however, it is
only what is obvious to sense that is to be taken into account.
WILLIAM W. CARLILE.
VIL CRITICAL NOTICES.
Mental development in the Child and the Race; methods and pro-
cesses. By JAMES MARK BALDWIN, M.A., Ph.D., Stuart
Professor of Psychology in Princeton University, <fec. New
York and London : Macmillan <fe Co., 1895. Pp. xi., 496.
THIS is a book which presents special difficulties to the reviewer.
One looks on a biological work for such Professor Baldwin's work
seems to be quite as much as a psychological one for arrangement,
structure, organic form : in the present case one is struck almost at
the first glance by the apparent absence of these attributes. And
the first impression is by no means dispelled as one begins to read.
One seems every now and then to be jerked off to a new topic by no
means obviously connected with the subject dealt with. There is a
quite perplexing amount of anticipatory allusion to later chapters,
which is a pretty sure sign that there is something amiss with the
order of treatment. Subjects are returned to and re-discussed with
some fulness, even new definitions of terms, e.g. those of habit being
introduced after old ones have been laid down. The reader has a
sense of coming round again and again to the same topic not unlike
what one experiences when following the movement of a rondo. A
further difficulty in the way of seizing Prof. Baldwin's thought is
his fondness a passion one might almost call it for new phrases.
He shares with Prof. James a strong bent to metaphor. In some
cases he undoubtedly introduces by these verbal inventions not only
an element of freshness but an added clearness of expression ; but in
many others he seems rather to darken than to illumine, as when
for example he employs the name ' Plastic Imitation,' so directly
suggestive of art imitation, to designate the subconscious imitation
of others' doings and opinions (p. 352).
To these difficulties in the way of the reviewer one must add
others having more of a moral character. Prof. Baldwin is a young
American, and this means that he has a good deal of go-aheadness,
of impatience for ideas more than a year old. This characteristic
in itself is attractive and exhilarating, especially for the slower-
moving European worker. But unfortunately the eagerness to
strike out a new path takes on in the present case a form which
according to my experience is, to say the least, unusual in a scientific
M. 7
98 CRITICAL NOTICES.
treatise. The author has a way of insisting on the originality of
this and that idea in a way that is apt to be provoking to average
human nature. And then he quotes or at least refers to his own
previous writings to a quite unusual extent, and even goes so far as
to quote Prof. W. James's favourable opinion of one of his ideas.
This, though possibly destined to be the manner of the Zukunfts-
wissenschqft, is a little trying to an old-fashioned reviewer. Even
this, however, is not the worst. What is positively irritating is the
appearance of a disposition to belittle the work of others, all at
least except Americans who as we all cheerfully allow are just now
in the foremost column of the advancing scientific army. Prof.
Baldwin, to judge from his criticism of what he is pleased to call the
Spencer-Bain view of the genesis of volition, has not made a very
serious study of the writings of Dr Bain or of Mr Herbert Spencer.
Unless I have strangely misunderstood the views of these writers
they cannot be 'bunched,' to use one of the writer's graphic ex-
pressions, in the way he supposes. And each of the views, thus
criticized as one theory, appears to be much nearer in certain
respects to Prof. Baldwin's own doctrine than he imagines. This
appearance of a hasty dismissal of others' claims is still more
conspicuous elsewhere. On p. 451, for example, when touching on the
theory that volition is (voluntary) attention to an idea, he refers as
usual to an earlier writing of his own and also to the work of Prof.
W. James, but makes no reference to the now classical article on
' Psychology ' by Dr James Ward. Similarly in developing a theory
of the modus operandi of attention strikingly similar in its essentials
to Professor Wundt's well-known view, he makes no direct reference
to the latter, but contents himself in a footnote with bidding the
reader note a reference by Hoffding to the similar doctrine of
Wundt (p. 463). This and much more argues either that Prof.
Baldwin is knowingly unfair, which of course I do not believe, or
that he is very little in touch with doctrines which are still re-
garded by Europeans at least as a part of the common knowledge
of psychologists.
I have felt bound to enlarge on these obstacles which the author
has put in the way of a clear understanding and a fair estimate
of his book ; for it is quite possible that I have not surmounted
them, and that the opinion of the work which I have done my
best to form may turn out to involve a certain amount of misappre-
hension.
After defining what he considers the relation of Infant to Race
Psychology Prof. Baldwin gives us what is to me the most in-
teresting if not the most valuable part of his work, a series of
chapters on child-study. He develops a 'new method' under the
head of the ' Dynamogenic Method ' which consists in observing the
motor reactions induced by sense-stimulation. This is applied
ingeniously to an enquiry into the distance and colour perceptions
of children. Prof. Baldwin carried out a series of experiments on
the colour-sense by presenting successively in suitable situations
j. M. BALDWIN: Mental Development &c. 99
certain colours (yellow was not included) and noting the relative
numbers of the grasping reactions called forth. The results are
expressed as follows: "the colours range themselves in an order of
attractiveness, i.e. blue, white, red, green and brown." The writer
at once goes on to say that this confirms Binet as against Preyer
(who puts blue last). But oddly enough he does not remark that
whereas, as he sees, his experiments have to do with colour-pre-
ference, Preyer's have to do with Farben-unterscheidung. That a
child will snatch at one colour more frequently than at another
does not in itself show that he discriminates the former better than
the latter. It may indeed be contended that to select a colour at all
involves discrimination not only of that which is preferred but of
that which is rejected. A better test of discrimination might be the
placing successively a number of small coloured objects on a back-
ground of another colour of an approximately equal degree of
luminosity, and calling forth manual reactions by making the coloured
objects to be grasped, moveable and otherwise, as attractive as
possible as a plaything. The child might previously be familiarized
with the nature of the playthings when not coloured. If some such
line of experiment could be followed out before the accidents of
ordinary surroundings, as the mother's dress and what not, had
already given an advantage to certain colour-impressions a very
difficult condition to realize it might be possible to employ Prof.
Baldwin's interesting method of investigation with good effect. But
the difficulties of the problem which the author hardly seems to
realize are very great and as yet quite unsurmounted.
With reference to the general value of Prof. Baldwin's observa-
tions of children it may be said that he now and again shows a real
aptitude for seizing and interpreting familiar events of child-life.
On the other hand the range of his observations seems by no means
wide, nor does he give clear evidence of having assimilated the now
considerable mass of material gathered by others. In certain cases,
as when (on p. 333) he tells us that his child in her fifth month
cried out when he pinched a bottle-cork, and in her 22nd week wept
at the sight of a picture of a man sitting weeping, giving both
observations as examples of sympathy, one feels it would have been
well if the author had more fully described in each case what took
place. As to knowledge of earlier work it is enough to refer to the
astonishing statement on p. 317 that no ' exact observations ' before
his own had to his knowledge been made on the first recognition of
pictures. Miss Shinn, to whose valuable memoir Prof. Baldwin
elsewhere refers, has a whole series of fine observations on this
point.
We may now pass to what the author would probably consider
the really important constructive part of the book, the doctrine of
' suggestion ' including as it would seem as its highest phase Imita-
tion. Suggestion is defined (p. 105) as "the tendency of a sensory
or an ideal state to be followed by a motor state." Prof. Baldwin
does not tell us whether under ideal state he includes ideas of
72
100 CRITICAL NOTICES.
movements themselves, but his illustrations appear to show that he
does, and this is borne out by the fact that he accepts the new view
that motor presentations and ideas are essentially sensory pheno-
mena. The truth brought out by this new name is, then, the now
familiar one that sensory stimulation, as well as the ideational
stimulation which succeeds and represents it, always tends to be
followed by movement. Whether it was worth while to apply the
name suggestion here may well be doubted. That word is already
employed in two distinct senses in psychology, (a) for the reactions
called forth in the hypnotized subject by a verbal or other mode of
induction of certain ideas (obsessions) by a second person, and
(6) (though less uniformly) for the reinstating part of the process of
reproduction. For Prof. Baldwin's ' suggestion ' we have moreover
as he seems to allow the familiar names ' sensori-motor ' and ' ideo-
motor ' action ; and to both the term reflex mental process seems
more suitable than suggestion.
We now come to the author's theory of development as de-
termined by successive adaptations. All organic reactions or
movements are in his view reflex or ' suggested ' responsives to
sensory stimulation. He rejects the notion of random or ' auto-
matic ' movements as entertained by Bain, Preyer and others.
Organisms have, owing to the play of natural selection, become so
constructed as to respond to beneficial stimulations, as those of food
and oxygen, by expansive or advancing movements, and to hurtful
stimulations by contracting or retiring movements. The author
simply assumes this fact, contenting himself with a reference to the
observation that certain low organisms have been observed to 'go
for' light or for nutritive material, and to shrink from injurious
matter. He does not attempt to establish it as a generally useful
arrangement in the case of animals with differentiated sensory and
motor organs. How, one may ask, can it be shown that the
tendency of a stimulation of an animal by the heat and light rays
of the sun to call out advancing movement would in general be
beneficial to the animal? The animal cannot, it is evident, get
nearer the sun by such movement, and if he could his impulse would
end in the fate of the moth circling about the lamp. The best
policy of such an animal, as indeed of higher creatures, might well
seem to be to remain as he is for fear of losing his sunshine. Such
objections may seem trivial to Prof. Baldwin, but they may suffice
to show that he hardly carries out his biological speculations with
that firm grip on all the pertinent facts which characterizes a
Darwin.
With this biological hypothesis as a foundation Prof. Baldwin
proceeds to build up the later processes of development. Movements
called forth by pleasure-bringing stimulation tend to bring about a
prolongation and intensification of the pleasurable sensation, and
thus we get a ' circular process' of which the author makes much later
on. He seems to allow that the pleasure has for its concomitant a
general heightening of the current of nervous energy, and so of
j. M. BALDWIN : Mental Development <&c. 101
movement ; and, as I understand him, the useful pleasure-continuing
reactions, so far as they have to be differentiated out of the primal
organic tendency to react expansively or contractively, are gradu-
ally selected out of a mass of useless ones which together constitute
what the writer rather happily calls the 'excess discharge.' This is
the true process of accommodation after consciousness appears on the
scene. In enforcing it the author vigorously attacks Bain's idea of
a selection of ' accidental ' movements, the difference between him
and Bain, so far as I can seize it, being that there is already at work
the organic (unconscious) tendency to react with the appropriate
difference of advancing and retiring movement according as the
stimulation is beneficial to the organism or the opposite.
We may now pass to the author's account of Imitation which, as
the highest phase of the reflex or suggestive process, underlies the
whole of the true processes of volition. Prof. Baldwin describes an
imitative action as " a sensori-motor reaction which finds its differ-
entia in the single fact that it imitates." To imitate, he explains, is
to reproduce that which excites the movement. Thus the reaction
which issues in a prolongation of a light-stimulus is according to him
a kind of imitation. All organic adaptation is thus, as he expressly
tells us, a "biological or organic imitation." In conscious action we
have 'conscious imitation.' Thus in the act of stretching out cold
hands towards the fire I am imitating the ' copy ' already in my
mind as an idea : that is, apparently, I am realizing in actual sensa-
tional form the idea of warm hands. What is ordinarily called
imitation is but a case of the same 'circular process' or reproduction
(actualization ?) of ' mental copy ' : for in imitating another's move-
ment a child is merely reproducing the idea of that movement, that
is, I take it, the visual representation with or without that of the
arm-experience itself. Prof. Baldwin in a footnote trie,s to meet the
rather obvious objection to so new and confusing a use of the word
' imitation ' : but what he says fails to convince me of the need of
such violence to current distinctions. Volition in the proper sense
arises out of persistent or repeated imitation, that is, a repeated
effort to imitate what is seen or heard. A whole chapter illustrated
with some curious diagrams is devoted to this process. The author
evidently sees where the real psychological difficulty of explaining a
new adaptive movement lies, and his theory that a repetition of
imitative movements (as commonly understood) leads by gradual
approximations to the fitting new action is skilfully argued.
Ingenious as it is, however, it will hardly bear the strain he seeks
to put on it. In order to support it he has in my opinion to
transform the child-life which we can observe about us. To suppose
that the rudiment of end-seeking action lies in imitation and in
imitation only seems to me to be contradicted by only a slight
acquaintance with the nursery. Where is the imitation (as
commonly understood) in the child's first endeavour to improve the
manner of taking his food, in his attempts to get at a rattle which
has slipped away from him, and many another effort of his first
102 CRITICAL NOTICES.
year 1 In truth the writer seems himself to see that imitation is not
the only, if indeed the chief source of volition, when he writes of his
child "dragging a table-cloth, in her seventh month, to bring my
bunch of keys within reach." " She remembers (he continues) the
movements necessary and makes them voluntarily for an end move-
ments slie had before found out by accident, or had seen someone else
make " (pp. 427, 428 ; the italics are added by me).
I have postponed reference to another part of Prof. Baldwin's
theory because it is in a manner independent of his main doctrine of
volition, viz. his account of the processes of Attention and Recogni-
tion. He here follows Miinsterberg in making the motor reaction
the characteristic and determining factor. Accepting the doctrine
that attention is motor adjustment having certain reflex or 'circular'
effects on the exciting sensations or ideas, he argues with some force
that we ought not to speak of any single faculty of attention.
Attention, that is specialized motor reactions, appear, now as visual,
now as auditory, and the several adjustive reactions vary greatly in
their relative degree of perfection in different individuals. This is
important, even though, as the author seems to perceive, the higher
kinds of attention as exercised in thinking are largely the same
process. He employs the motor theory of attention very ingeniously
to explain simple assimilation or recognition as distinguished from
associative recognition as illustrated in Lehmann's experiments.
According to Prof. Baldwin we recognize a thing when the motor
process of adjustment in attention has been perfected by practice
and so grown easy. The theory which has a superficial resemblance
to Dr Ward's explanation of recognition is a plausible one, but it
will not, I think, bear detailed examination. It seems to do for
tones, to the varying pitch of which distinct ear-accommodations
probably answer. But I fail to see how a new taste, or a new tint,
requires a process of motor adjustment different from that of an old
one. Subjective observation bears this out. If only a colour is pro-
perly placed the motor adjustments necessary for seeing it distinctly
are indistinguishable whether the colour be a familiar or unfamiliar
one. The special muscular strain we experience in looking at a new
colour arises from the circumstance that as new and unrecognized
we need to get a more perfect and more prolonged impression of it.
In other words the strain is the effect of the non-recognition and
cannot therefore be its cause. One asks, too, how it comes about on
this theory that we can ever recognize a thing that looks strange at
first, but is recognized after a closer inspection involving consider-
able strain of attention. Here, surely, the ground of recognition is
not in the ease of the motor reaction.
To sum up my impression of Prof. Baldwin's book. It seems to
me in many respects fresh and stimulating. On the other hand in
what looks like an over-straining after originality apparent newness
of conception often turns out on closer examination to be but new-
ness of phrasing. When new ideas are put forward one misses for
the most part an impartial and thorough-going confronting of theory
w. JERUSALEM : Die Urtheilsfunction. 103
with fact. The author is evidently satisfied with the truth of his
new theory : he has however a good deal yet to do in order to make
it convincing to others.
JAMES SULLY.
Die Urtheilsfunction. Eine psychologische und erkenntniskritische
Untersuchung. Yon WILHELM JERUSALEM. Wien und Leipzig :
W. Braumiiller, 1895. Pp. 269.
THE author starts with a consideration of the meaning and
importance, from the psychological, logical, grammatical and philo-
sophical points of view, of the question, What is Judgment ?
With regard to the grammatical reference, that bears chiefly on
the relation between thought and language from the logical point
of view as expressly explained by Mr Jerusalem, living flexible
judgments have to be reduced to a rigid connexion of concepts.
The author's view of the philosophical place of the doctrine of
judgment is discussed at the beginning and end of the book, and its
importance strongly emphasized.
But the bulk of the work is devoted to what the writer regards
as the psychological view of judgment his expressed intention
is to furnish "a thorough psychological analysis of the cognitive
function."
In part of this investigation the part which is distinguished as
analytic rather than genetic or biological 1 , the exceedingly close
connexion between Logic and Psychology, and the difficulty of
everywhere drawing a sharp line between them comes out very
strikingly ; for we are given what purports to be an absolutely
general account of Judgment an account, i.e., which will and does
apply to every judgment without exception, when rigidly analysed.
This analysis is of course psychological, and it appears to me that it
is judgments as thus understood that are the subject and centre of
Logic. If there is an absolutely general account of judgments, on
that, it would seem, Logic must rest, and with that it must begin.
Although the author, to judge from some of his statements, is not
in harmony with this view, it is apparently involved in his opinion
that on a complete and satisfactory answer to the (psychological)
question What do we do when we judge ? depends our whole
theoretical view of the world, and that whatever is essential to
judgment must hold of every content of judgment. Part of this
view seems to me true and important and it is involved in Mill's
account of the Import of Propositions, according to which, for a
due analysis, there are two questions which have to be answered
(1) What do the Terms stand for? (2) What is the relation
1 Meaning by biological the point of view from which the psychology
of judgment has to investigate the significance of the form of judgment in
regard to the preservation of the individual and the race.
104 CRITICAL NOTICES.
between the Terms? If we so far know what the Terms stand
for as to know what the relation between them is, we must also
know (as in this book is pointed out) what is the essential constitu-
tion of the object of knowledge.
Mr Jerusalem holds that in every (categorical) Judgment some
content present to the mind is moulded, systematized and articulated,
and thus reduced from indetermination and chaos to system and
intelligibility. This is accomplished by help of the idea of Force
and Manifestation the Subject standing for a Centre of Force and
the Predicate expressing some manifestation of that force. He
undertakes a brief historico-critical review of the doctrines of
other logicians concerning judgments, supports his own by a detailed
analytic and genetic discussion, and tests it by a critical and com-
parative application to different kinds of judgment or proposition ;
finally, after discussing the general trustworthiness of judgment, he
takes up the philosophical aspect of the question.
Passing over the interesting references to Greek and Scholastic
doctrines, and a brief account of the modern theories of judgment,
it may be noted that current theories are grouped under four heads :
(1) Judgment is a belief here Mill and other English thinkers, and
Brentano's ' Idio-genetic ' doctrine are criticised. (2) Judgment is a
synthesis. Under this head Sigwart comes. (3) Judgment is an
analysis. Wundt and Erdmann are mentioned as exponents of this
view. (4) In Judgment a presented or ideated content receives form
and objectification. This of course, as far as it goes, is the author's
own view.
With regard to what is said about Mill under the first head, it
seems to be ignored or forgotten that he has discussed the Import of
Propositions at great length in his Logic, Book I. and elsewhere,
and has declared (among other things) that " the object of belief in
a proposition when it asserts anything more than the meaning of
words is generally... either the co-existence or the sequence of two
phenomena." This (and other expressions of his view) seems to
bring Mill's doctrine naturally under the head of synthesis. And
of this 2nd doctrine it may be observed that at least it gives the
true account of the matter from the point of view of audience
hearer or reader ; and this suggests the further remark that much
controversy as to the import of propositions or judgments may be
explained by the consideration that it is from different points of
view that different theories have been hit upon and elaborated.
The author himself observes that the process of apprehending
communicated judgments is synthetic (cf. ch. 7 of Pt. 4) but he
only mentions it cursorily. We may begin with unity and differ-
entiate or articulate it (as the author), or begin with diversity and
unify or connect (as Sigwart), or fully recognise the diversity in
unity as in all items of Knowledge that already form part of our
" mental furniture." The unity in diversity, or diversity in unity
is common to all cases. -The 3rd view is hardly incompatible with
the 4th.
w. JERUSALEM: Die Urtheilsfunction. 105
As regards the theory of Judgment affected by Brentano and his
school which Mr Jerusalem, after Hillebrand, calls Idio-genetic
our author concludes that the view is based upon tautology.
According to thi 1 ? view judgment is an unique and primitive
psychical act (hence the name Idio-genetic) incapable of analysis.
In every judgment there is one thing or group which is referred to,
and which constitutes the Materie of that judgment ; the object
before the mind in ideating and in judging is the same, in
perceiving S P and in judging S is P, the same identical thing or
group is the object of my mental activity though there is a
profound difference between ideating and judging. Judgments or
propositions are not formed by putting two ideas together and a
judgment need not be two-membered. Judging consists merely in
the acceptance or rejection (Anerkennung or Verwerfung} of a
presented content thus This plant is a judgment. Mr Jerusalem
allows that in ideating and in judging one object or group is before
the mind ; and this certainly seems to be indisputable in the case of
judgments already accepted (however acquired), and in most cases
where a judgment is framed by the speaker himself. He strenuously
objects, however, to the doctrine that judgments need not be two-
membered. According to him all that we learn from the expositions
of Brentano and his school may be summed up in the phrases, An
affirmative judgment (= acceptance of an object) is true when its
object exists, and An object exists when the judgment which accepts
it is true. The acceptance and rejection declared to be the functions
of judgment are meaningless unless to accept means to regard as
existent, and to reject means to regard as non-existent.
Under the 4th head Mr Jerusalem refers to G. Gerber as his
source of inspiration, and lays stress upon Gerber's view of the
enormous importance of verbal language for the development of
Judgment and of Thought generally. He also mentions with
approval Mr Bradley's view of judgment, which however seems to
me very different from his own, although recognising the forming
and objectifying action of judgment.
On passing to the genetic investigation of judgment, we find
important parts assigned to Ideation or Presentation, to Feeling, to
Will, and to Speech. Some idea or presentation is a primary
condition of judgment, but judgment is not an association of ideas ;
nor is verbal expression, nor even mere disintegrating of the
presented content, sufficient to constitute judgment. It is by
systematisation and objectification that idea is transformed into
judgment. When an idea is presented to us in perception, we
are passive and affected; when we think (as in judging) we are
active hence judging includes elements of volition and of passive
feeling. It is interest in some presented content that stirs us up to
the activity of judging and this interest may be described as
connected with the satisfaction of an intellectual need of activity
a need however which is occasionally satisfied by mere apprehension
of an idea. The need would be likely to make itself felt, at early
106 CRITICAL NOTICES.
stages of human development, as an urgent demand for light upon
some confused and perplexing presentation or idea, and this demand
would find in judgment its natural and only satisfaction. Mr
Jerusalem regards the seeking for this form as an act of Will, which
aims at reducing the ideational content, with a view to practical
ends. For primitive man, when activity or any manifestation was
attributed to any thing, the thing was always regarded (as by
children) as a living willing creature. This is explained as due to
the predominant force of the Will-apperception mass. This primitive
mythological anthropomorphism, generally regarded as a passing
phase, is held by Mr Jerusalem to be of extraordinary interest and
suggestiveness, and quite impossible to get rid of altogether.
The attribution of life and will to things is regarded as a result
of man's own individual experience, in which it perpetually happens
that movements follow directly on impulse or even seem simultaneous
with it. The connexion (according to Mr Jerusalem) is so intimate
that impulse and movement are essentially one, impulse being but
the beginning of movement, and being in fact matter of consciousness
only when the movement has begun. He rejects the view that
feelings of innervation precede movement, but holds that muscular
sensations actually accompany the idea of intended movement, and
holds that movement in foreign bodies was naturally regarded by
primitive man as the final term of a series the beginning of which
had to be sought within the moving thing, and had to be conceived
by him as volitional impulse. To this may be added a consideration
of man's ' biological ' interest in his environment, the importance to
him for practical purposes of a knowledge of things, especially
moving things the frequent need of communicating information
as to observed movements, and the appropriateness for this of
imitation in many cases ; such imitation would be a convincing
demonstration of the dependence of the movement upon conscious
impulse.
In such a separation of the movement and assigning of it, as the
result of volitional impulse to the thing moving, we have the schema
of judgment, and an intelligible interpretation and systematisation
of the whole presented content.
By this interpretation of what is perceived into an independent
thing with a will of its own, the ideational content is objectified.
So far thought might progress without language ; but the
complete development of the function of judgment, the conception
of Quality or Potential Force, the substitution of the idea of centres
and manifestations of force for the crude original anthropomorphism,
the clear distinction betwen Subject and Predicate in judgment, the
conception of classes of things endowed with similar forces all this,
with its enormous influence on the further development of thought
and power of apprehending the world, was possible only by means of
language.
The question as to the origin of speech cannot of course receive
a detailed answer, but it seems probable that its origin is to be
w. JERUSALEM: Die Urtheilsf unction. 107
sought in emotional expression, its further development in the need
to understand. Emotional outcries would contain some intellectual
elements, and would be understood ; the emotional element would,
with repetition, fall into the background, while the ideational factor
would proportionally gain in strength. The earliest words or roots
had comprehensive signification, and only in course of time became
split up or differentiated into nouns and verbs. Language could
become a complete instrument of thought only when the distinction
of Subject and Predicate in Judgment became clearly marked. The
feeling-element of Interest pervades all judgment, and judgment is
in itself pleasant, according to our author.
After tracing the origin and development of Judgment, he goes
on to consider the different forms of Judgment in what he regards
as the evolutional order of their appearance, testing his theory by
applying it in turn to Denominative and Impersonal Judgments, to
Judgments of Memory and Expectation, to Conceptual, Relational,
and Psychical Judgments. He points out that Subject and Predicate
in a Proposition are not independent ideas or presentations but
closely connected factors of judgment, the real unit of thought
being thus expressed not in a mere name as such, but in a
proposition. The analysis however of propositions into AS' and P
seems indispensable for the due development of thought (as re-
duction of words to letters is indispensable philological ly) and the
clear recognition of the function of the Subject in Predication has
an important effect in emphasizing and enhancing the independence
attributed to objects of Perception. It is also by its means that
the idea of potential activity, so valuable in thought, is developed
and fixed ; and through it again words acquire universality of
meaning, making it possible for objects to be thought of in groups.
And thus the way is prepared for the formation of Concepts or
' Abstract Ideas.' (I should like to remark here that it seems very
difficult to draw the line between Concepts and other ideas, and that
we think even of individual objects by means of ideas that are more
or less abstract.)
In passing to consider the so-called Impersonal Judgments, it
is first of all pointed out that the Predicate as such is always
dependent. It is thus incompatible with the nature of the
Judgment-function that a judgment should consist of a Predicate
only. But it has been thought that such judgments occur in
' Impersonal ' judgments e.g. It rains. Has this sentence a Sub-
ject? If so, what is it? The author first considers the views of
Miklosich, Brentano, Sigwart &c., contending that the doctrine of
Brentano and his school (according to whom Impersonal Judgments
are to be interpreted as Existential) is full of confusion and
contradiction; and he points out that (1) It rains has a different
meaning from (2) Rain is, (1) containing an implication of present
fact which (2) does not ; also that Existential Judgments are never
Judgments of Perception hence that such propositions as It rains
cannot be Existential Judgments. Further on, in considering these
108 CRITICAL NOTICES.
latter Judgments, the author points out that they are two-membered,
and that in them Existence is the Predicate.
According to Mr Jerusalem the true force of Impersonal Judg-
ments is to be found in this, that they express a whole process, not
that something perceived is named. And the emphatic Present
of Impersonal Judgments of Perception refers to the spatial
environment of the speaker, and it is this environment which is
the subject of the assertion. Lotze, Prantl, Bergmann, Schuppe,
seem to be of a similar opinion. Thus in Impersonals too, the
forming and articulating function of the judgment^act is operative.
A process is therein apprehended as a condition of the environment
of the speaker. This environment is at first anthropomorphically
regarded as cause of the process. But soon the anthropomorphism
disappears, or keeps its place by the substitution of a Divinity as
cause, instead of the environment. I think it might be suggested
that the ' It ' of such Impersonals as It rains, indicates that while
an occurrence is taking place which we regard as the activity of
something, what that something is, is vague, doubtful or indefinite.
In Judgments of Expectation the Future is regarded as existing
in germ in the Present. In the present inheres the will, the
tendency, the inclination to the future manifestation we ascribe
e.g. to an object of present perception a definite tendency, a
direction of Will. The verbal expression for this direction of Will
is the Future, which in many languages is simply characterised by
the verb to will.
Ideas of Relation furnish a special class of Concepts and
Conceptual Judgments. As Mr Jerusalem remarks, Relative Judg-
ments properly so-called (of which Judgments of Quantity and
Number are highly important cases) have received a very scanty
measure of attention in most logical text-books though of course
the whole primary force and essential distinction of propositions of
this kind falls into the background if they are treated as mere
examples of S is P. Though e.g. x = 4 may be interpreted as
meaning It is a property of x that it is equivalent to 4, yet without
doubt what is really emphatic in x = 4 as ordinarily used is the
Relation of Equality between the two magnitudes. (As has been
pointed out by some previous writers, we are in such propositions
concerned with two distinct objects or denotations.) Hence it is
concluded that the Subject of such a judgment is the relation of
Equality between the two magnitudes, and the Predicate is the
Existence, the Vorhandensein, of this relation. And since Existence
means nothing but potential or actual activity, the real meaning of
the proposition is, This Relation of Equality between x and 4
will show itself operative in all the succeeding operations.
This interpretation seems to me somewhat strained.
Judgments concerning Psychical phenomena are said to be at
first sight in direct contradiction with the author's theory, since in
statements like / rejoice, I am afraid, I am in pain, the Force-
centre which stands for Subject is certainly not distinct from, and
w. JERUSALEM : Die Urtheilsf unction. 109
independent of the person judging ; it seems, we are told, as though
in such cases the Force-centre were not objective, but the very
essence of Subjectivity. But this objection is of a very harmless
character, and it is easy for the author to show that my 'I' though
of course for myself ' subjective ' is from an universal point of view
and for other I's ' objective ' those other I's being objective to me,
while subjective each to itself. Thus in these cases too the function
of judgment is to form and objectify a given content. But though
each ' Subject ' is able from the universal point of view to regard
himself as just a part of the world, there remains the little
Unbequemlichkeit to use Kant's word about the relation of the
Self-cognising to the Self-cognised and this is not removed by the
author's statement that the 'I' and the 'rejoice' in I rejoice, signify
only the I-concept and the joy-concept. The author's use of the
terms subjective and objective here, seems wanting in clearness. And
the relation between the interpretation here put upon Psychical
Judgments and the doctrine asserted in ch. 2 of Pt. i. that "absence
of substratum" (Substratlosigkeit) is the distinguishing characteristic
of psychical phenomena (cf. also what is said further on in this
chapter about Psychical Judgments) seems to stand in need of
elucidation.
The function of Judgment is said to be physically conditioned as
regards both Sensation and Volition ; and that we interpret the
world as we do is due to the constitution of the objective physical
world itself as well as to the special character of our psychical life.
Further the Categories of Substance and Cause are declared to be
implicit in every Judgment, and the idea of Substance coeval with
the idea of Subject of Judgment. It is because in Judgment we
transfer to our environment the causal connexion which we sub-
jectively experience, that we are enabled to foretell and to produce
changes of physical occurrence.
With regard to the theory of Judgment here set forth, I am
inclined to think that present divergence from the anthropomorphism
assumed to start with is considerably greater than the author
believes that though Force, Substance and so on are indeed found
on reflection to be ultimately implied in Judgment, yet that this
implication is in many instances very far from being obvious, and
that what alone is in all cases of judgment both indispensable to any
significance whatever, and obvious without a process of reasoning, is
unity in diversity. If this view of judgment is accepted, then every
Subject of a proposition, and therefore every object of knowledge, is
a unity which has a plurality of attributes.
As regards the origin of the ideas of Substance and Cause, the
question of real interest and difficulty of course is, How are they
given in experience 1 ? and Mr Jerusalem's account of the matter
does not solve the problem. There seems great force in his opinion
that the form of judgment which is of general use and value must
correspond to the physical constitution of things as well as to the
mental, though his contention that nof-hing which appears to us is
110 CRITICAL NOTICES.
mere appearance but always some real aspect of the world seems
valueless because if we take the circumstances of the percipient
into account as well as of the perceived, the assertion though
undoubtedly true is trivial, if what is meant is that in all perception
objectively correct knowledge of the matter of perception is obtained,
this seeins clearly inadmissible.
The author feels strongly that neither the physical nor the
psychical element in experience can be given up or explained away,
and he accepts as most in accordance with observed fact and most
satisfactory philosophically the belated doctrine of the direct inter-
action of Mind and Matter. He asserts this repeatedly and in set
terms, referring to Will and Movement as psychical and physical
factors respectively we start with the Will of which we are
conscious in ourselves, and are led to accept a Divine Will as the
fons et origo of force where conscious impulse seems lacking, and as
providing the unification and source of all phenomena.
This final outcome and chief point of Mr Jerusalem's theory is
however but barely indicated and very slightly elaborated Leaving
out of account the difficulties of the relation between Mind and
Matter, it may be said that the complete failure to meet indeed
perhaps even to recognise the problem which may be indicated as
that of " the One and the Many " marks this as an entirely
inadequate theory of the universe. And there seems a serious
difficulty about the relation of Will to Mind and Matter, and
about the Meaning to be attached to Will ; for since it is through
the attribution of Will, or as Force-centres, that objectification is
induced upon the matter of external perception, and since it is in
virtue of this objectification that we recognize Substance and
Causality in the physical world, and since our only direct ex-
perience of Causality or Will or Force is said to be in ourselves :
I suppose the only meaning that can be given to the denial of any
substrate or substance in psychical phenomena is, that the one sole
substance is Will, and that that Will is God, in whom (or which)
physical and psychical are all conjoined and co-ordinate. On the
other hand it has been clearly indicated that Will is regarded as
psychical and again, much of what is said tends to the exaltation
of the physical in comparison of the psychical.
Mr Jerusalem's chief strength seems to lie in his powers of
exposition and of psychological observation and imagination ; and
whatever may be thought of his metaphysical opinions, the interest
and value of much of the psychological part of his work, both
analytic and genetic, cannot I think, be doubted. The book as a
whole is delightful reading, and full of freshness and suggestion.
Even some views and statements which seem to me mistaken are
probably in part due to keenness of analysis and truth of observa-
tion for instance the distinction of psychological phenomena as
substrados, and the refusal to regard such phenomena as the
subject of judgment in the same way as material phenomena.
It is about the account of the relation between Body and
w. JERUSALEM : Die Urtheilsf unction. Ill
Mind that the chief faults of the book seem to gather; e.g. the
doctrine of the direct interaction of Body and Mind, as deduced
from the experienced juxtaposition of impulse and movement : the
view that mere events (what does event mean?) can affect Force-
centres : and the distinction drawn between psychical and physical
phenomena as regards their relation to apprehension and to judg-
ment. It appears to me that from the psychological point of view,
judgments of psychical and of physical fact are on just the same
footing, and that there is no essential difference between the
modes of apprehension in the two cases, except in the case of
Pleasure and Pain. In our present stage of development, physical
facts are surely, very often at least, matter of intuition as far as
consciousness goes ; and if I say, e.g. I am in a great hurry, or / am
going to London to-morrow, is not this Subject I, as immediately
referred to, as distinct from the Predicate, and as definite a
Force-Centre, as any Subject of a Judgment concerning physical
objects ? And is not the Substance of physical objects, as distinct
from their attributes, an inference ? It may be said that there is
no appeal from a man's consciousness of his own states, but perhaps
even this is not always true ; and if it is, it is equally true (as far
as Perception goes) of the perception of physical objects.
I have not attempted to consider Part 5, concerning the Validity
of Judgment, and ch. 1 and 2 of Part 6, in which are discussed
the relation between Psychology and Theory of Knowledge, Critical
Idealism, and a work of Avenarius. I have also left untouched
various special points of importance.
E. E. C. JONES.
L'Annee philosophique. Publie"e sous la Direction de F. PILLON.
Paris: Felix Alcan, 1895. Pp. 321.
I. Jfitude philosophique sur la doctrine de saint Paul (Renouvier).
THE Apostle's religious ideal of faith, hope and charity is explained
by M. Renouvier with force and clearness, in a study which
possesses much didactic value. But when one frees himself from
the charm of style and from the power of religious appeal, the
question of the strictly philosophic worth of the article arises.
That man lieth in wickedness, and that an escape can only be
found by union with a higher power through love or charity
(dydirr)), is urged with eloquence, but this is scarcely the ethical
point of view. The sin of humanity was a state to be remedied
according to St Paul : according to the ethical thinker it is to
be explained so as to satisfy the reason. M. Renouvier is scrupu-
lously just in showing that St Paul was uninfluenced by the Neo-
Platonic ideas adopted by early Christianity, and his criticism tends
to prove that the Apostle shut himself out from the philosophic
point of view. To him all philosophy was vanity compared with
112 CRITICAL NOTICES.
the cry of the heart for redemption and freedom from its load of
sin ; and everything in his teaching is subordinated to the religious
sentiment. Hence anyone who realizes the full import of the term
philosophy recognises that the two points of! view are widely
separated ; and it is precisely St Paul's steady avoidance of
metaphysical problems, that enables him to inculcate his precepts
of morality. His teaching is wholly didactic ; it aims primarily
at making men better ; whereas speculative ethics can only hope
to solve the problems the religious teacher avoids, and possibly,
indirectly, to influence men's actions by pointing to a high Ethical
ideal.
II. Le Phenomenisme neutre (L. Dauriac).
M. Dauriac's article deals with L'Idee du Phenomene by
M. Boirac, which has already been noticed in Mind, so that it
only remains to estimate its importance from the point of view
taken by M. Dauriac in L'Annee Philosophique. M. Dauriac
lays great stress upon the fact that M. Boirac is a convert from
the school of Kantian criticists, and he is ready to receive the
deserter with open arms. But one must ask to what "school"
or mode of thought has M. Boirac been converted, and it evidently
grieves the friendly critic that he cannot reply to Empiricism, only
to Phenomenalism, or the theory that only Phenomena can be
known. This Phenomenalism, moreover, according to M. Dauriac
is "neutral," or in other words it takes no side in the discussion of
metaphysical questions ; in fact M. Boirac gives free choice between
the conclusions of Hume and Renouvier. Further, not being an
avowed Empiricist, he cannot adopt the method of Mill, and
"Phenomenalism" is to be established, not by observation and
experiment, but by a historical criticism of preceding systems ;
in the course of which survey the noumenon appended to each is
discovered to be either useless or self-contradictory. Phenomena,
then, being isolated, have the whole metaphysical world before
them to conquer or at least to defy. Being unwilling to accept
the aid of any recognised system, they are metaphysical derelicts
until M. Dauriac takes them in tow towards the natural haven
of Empiricism. Although M. Boirac has been careful not to
commit himself, it is not difficult to see that this line of thought
has influenced his speculation throughout. "The only realities
that can be known," he writes, "are phenomena, and relations,
more or less constant, between phenomena, of resemblance, dif-
ference, co-existence and succession." However much he may
desire to be "neutral" he writes from the empirical standpoint ;
and having, by this means, made sure of his phenomena, he can
well afford to profess to leave the question open ; when, so far
as he himself is concerned, it is already decided. Indeed, one side
of the controversy over phenomena reminds one of an old-fashioned
cookery recipe for hare-soup, which begins with the sage advice,
F. PILLON: L'Annee philosophique. 113
" first catch a hare," and similarly in philosophy the whole question
turns upon how one "catches" his phenomenon. If the phenomena are
to be taken as "ready-made," the question of workmanship cannot
be investigated ; and if, moreover, the relationships between them
are only "more or less constant," there is no place for universality,
necessity or absolute knowledge, which would find sorry comfort
in any dictum that includes a "more or less." Plainly then
M. Boirac favours the Empirical line of thought, and it only
remains to estimate how far he has improved its position by his
advocacy.
From the point of view of M. Boirac, the difficulty is to
individualize his phenomenalism. With Mill and the strictly
"Psychological School," it was often a puzzle to generalise without
interpolating elements foreign to those employed in the genesis of
the individual, and here M. Boirac has recourse (for the present) to
a kind of phenomenal Monadology. But the experiment is neither
clear nor happy, for it is difficult to see how Monadism can be
adapted to Phenomenalism, since the combination must unite two
utterly heterogeneous elements. The doctrine of substance is the
especial bete noir of the phenomenalist, and yet it is precisely this
theory that is the kernel of the Monadology if the system of
Leibnitz be phenomenalized* it fails to help M. Boirac in dis-
covering an individual phenomenon or in finding a consciousness,
and upon the other hand it can only help him by destroying the
essentially phenomenalistic character of his teaching there is no
Monadism without substance, there is no Phenomenalism with
substance. In fact, the problem of consciousness is a stumbling-
block to M. Boirac; for how is it to be related to Phenomena?
Without some kind of consciousness there can be no phenomenon;
with consciousness, as an added ingredient, Phenomenalism is liable
to be forced back to the provisional Idealism of Mill or the
Empirical Idealism of Berkeley, and thus ipso facto ceases to be
Phenomenalism.
It therefore appears that the position of neutrality is untenable.
It is an armed neutrality with too many interests at stake to main-
tain indifference for long. The whole series of what M. Dauriac
terms "the isms of metaphysics" are drawing it in one direction
(even if only as objects of belief), and it is really the force exerted
by these, reacting against the Empirical results, that produces
an illusory appearance of apparent stability or neutrality. If
Phenomena, that can be known, gain the day against Noumena,
that are only believed, the result will probably be scepticism : if,
on the contrary, the beliefs or possible beliefs are victors, they will
break through the cordon of phenomenalism and establish a
dogmatic system beyond.
M.
114 CRITICAL NOTICES.
III. V Evolution de I'Idealisme au xviii 6 siecle Spinozisme
et Malebranchisme (F. PILLON).
It is little wonder that Spinoza's system remained so long mis-
understood, when, even to the present day, there are many points
that constitute an open field, where the last champion only holds
his ground until a fresh challenger appears. No question has been
more debated than the relation of Substance to the Attributes, and
of the Attributes to each other. Every writer of an important History
of Philosophy has a new theory to advance, and now the primacy of
"Thought" maintained by Erdmann is answered by M. Pillon's
counter-claim in favour of "Extension."
M. Pillon belongs to the more subtle commentators of Spinoza,
who admit that Spinoza himself held the equilibrium of the
Attributes, but that unconsciously or implicitly he loads his
balance in favour of one of them, in this case of Extension.
"Despite," M. Pillon writes, "this demonstration of the reciprocal
independence of the two series [e.g. Ethics, in. Prop. 2 and Note] it
remains that the representative series [thought], just because it is
representative, is subordinated to the series represented" [extension]
(p. 144). This is, in brief form, the argument for the primacy of
Extension ; but, condensed as the argument is, it contains several
implied statements, that admit of discussion, if not of denial. First,
is "that which is represented" prior to that which represents? For
if this be so, how can the mode of extension be "logically prior" to
the mode of thought, and how can the latter represent 1 for, surely
representing implies activity, (and here M. Pillon's exposition is in
accord with Spinoza, for the ideas are active processes, Ethics, n. p. 43),
and that which is represented must be logically subsequent to the
act of representing (just as the result of action is subsequent to
the action), hence, what was logically prior, has become logically
posterior, to Thought. Or to put the matter briefly M. Pillon
asserts that the represented must be prior to the representing, but
why not, on the contrary, the representing to the represented, the
act to its result, idea to ideatum ? Thus M. Pillon's argument tends
rather to undermine than to establish his conclusion. But a deeper
question remains ; how far is he justified in introducing the question
of "representing" into the discussion 1 The following are the passages
where this point of view is developed After the definition of
adequate and inadequate ideas, the argument continues, " Adequate
ideas cannot but be true, because they represent exactly the real being
which corresponds to them. Error arises from inadequate ideas,
imperfectly representative " (p. 136). " Everything in the psychology
of Spinoza returns and is reducible to this simple distinction between
adequate and inadequate ideas" (p. 137). "In the study of this
psychology one is struck with the extreme importance assumed by
the representative character of the attribute Thought" (p. 138).
" Thought is reduced to ideas, and ideas only differ in the inequality
of their representative value" (ibid.). "Spinoza at once admits,
F. PILLON : L'Annde philosophique. 115
that the conceptions of our intelligence, provided they are clear
and distinct, represent the truth infallibly ; in other words, that
the human understanding is a species of mirror, where clear and
distinct conceptions form images exactly like real objects. Hence
the philosophy of Spinoza cannot but be a realistic dogmatism "
(p. 139). Now if the reader follows M. Pillon's train of thought,
he will see that the representative value of adequate ideas, in the
iirst passage quoted, refers to "real being," and that at the end it
takes on the additional meaning of a mirroring of images " exactly
like real objects " a transition from the guarantee of truth to the
conformity of ideas in consciousness to that which is beyond
consciousness and that never can appear in it. Now Spinoza
himself decides against the second interpretation, when he looks
upon the comparison of an idea to a " painting upon panel " as
an absurd suggestion, and this simile gains additional weight from
the fact that the Dutch and Flemish Schools of his time alone
aimed at reproducing real objects as they were.
But, further, the introduction of " representation " seems to
misrepresent the whole outlook of Spinoza. He himself expressly
denies that the test of an adequate idea is the agreement of idea
and ideatum (Ethics, n. Def. 4, Prop. 5 <fec. and confirmed in Letter
LXVIII B.) and hence, as pointed out by Prof. Windelband, an
adequate idea by no means depends upon its ideatum indeed, if
this were so, the isolation of the attributes would be broken ; they
would be connected together and therefore false to their definition,
being conceived not each per se but per aliud (i.e. by the modes of
the other attribute). Moreover, the whole gist of Spinoza's system
consists in the postulate or assumption, that what is clearly and
distinctly conceived in an idea is so in being. This is the highest
verity, the identity of being and thought (in the sense of an
adequate idea), and obviously it could gain nothing from any
representative nexus or order between the two series; in fact, to
disavow this position in favour of the primacy of Extension would
be to undermine the whole doctrine of Substance.
While dissenting from M. Pillon's argument, there is much to be
said for his conclusion, with the qualification that, instead of a
categorical, it should form one side of a disjunctive proposition.
Spinoza himself intended to maintain the equilibrium of the
Attributes, but when a system' proposes a Substance as the sole
infinite existence, and when the finite modes are grouped under
two independent attributes that are connected with the finitude
of the modes upon one side, and with the infinity of Substance
upon the other, it is obvious that chasms must occur and that
some sacrifice must be made to bridge the gulf. This sacrifice
may take the shape of subordinating either attribute to the
other Extension to Thought or Thought to Extension and
M. Pillon's position is of great value in pointing out the pos-
sibility of the latter attitude. The subordination of Extension
to Thought has found many advocates from Tschirnhausen to the
82
116 CRITICAL NOTICES.
present day. But, like the opposite course, neither absolutely
excludes the other ; both are historically possible. As long as
Spinoza had not emancipated himself from his earlier point of
view, he himself gives precedence to Extension, and, according
to Dr Martineau, he must still give it, as long as he is engaged
with the Occasionalistic problem of the relation of mind and
body 1 . When, moreover, the question of the representative value
of thought arose, and thinkers demanded something beyond the
essence of an idea as the test of truth, the current might (as
M. Pillon indicates) set in the same direction. Upon the other
hand, the activity of thought as idea, the idea of an. idea, the
insight of "intellect" into substance (whether intellect be under-
stood as mind the mode, or infinite intellect), all show the opposite
tendency. Indeed, the balance of the attributes seems to have been
the result of a balance of two opposite tendencies in Spinoza's own
mind, the earlier dominance of Naturalism giving way to the
deductive rights of thought, and it would be interesting to learn
whether "Thought" would have asserted itself against Extension,
if Spinoza had lived to answer the questions which he puts aside,
for further consideration, in his correspondence.
If then the view be defensible, that an Idealistic or Materialistic
conclusion can be drawn from Spinoza, it brings us to one of the
most interesting, if not the most interesting problem in the history
of Modern Philosophy before Kant. Did space permit, it would be
easy to determine how the Greek conception of man was broken
into two separate momenta, one of which appears in the empirical
method of Bacon and the other in the rationalism of Descartes.
Like two streams that issue from the same water-shed, the earlier
courses are not far apart, but the difference increases until at last
each empties itself upon opposite sides of a continent. So Material-
ism may be traced back to Bacon and early Idealism to Descartes.
In the earlier stage Bacon leads to Locke, and Descartes to Spinoza.
From what has already been said, either Idealistic or Materialistic
tendencies might have originated from Spinoza, and the same remark
applies, with certainty, to Locke. There were thus four courses
open, deductive Idealism and Materialism derived from Spinoza,
and empirical Idealism and Materialism derived from Locke.
Now the problem of historical interest arises, why is it that
the empirical line of thought, in both branches, ousts its rivals
from the course of philosophic development 1 French Materialism
and Berkeley's Idealism were both derived from Locke, but Spinoza's
doctrine failed to gain the modifications of which it was susceptible.
It is futile to reply that Spinoza's thought was more difficult and
less attractive than that of Locke, for the tinge of mysticism that
forms the aureole of Idealism has never deterred adherents by
difficulties of interpretation. The cause must rather be sought in
the odium that was heaped upon Spinoza, a last trace of mediaeval
1 Types of Ethical Theory, Bk. i. Chapter 3, 7.
F. PILLON : L'Annde philosophique. 117
prejudice against "the unhallowed deeds of Jews." It was this
prejudice that delayed the printing of his books, restricted their
circulation, and vilified his teaching. Hence it is little wonder that
there were none so poor to do him reverence in developing his
teaching ; and thus the half-completed conclusion is supported by
arguments drawn from a different source. This historical gap, it
may be remarked in passing, is an argument against any rigorously
a priori evolution of the history of philosophy unless it could be
proved that there were internal reasons for Spinoza's system hiber-
nating for over a century ! But, upon the other hand, it is important
to remember that thought can never die, and that, if Spinoza's
system was suppressed in the eighteenth century, he gains his
reward in the post-critical philosophy, when any system that
depends upon "Thesis, Antithesis and Synthesis," repeats the
mutual exclusion of the Attributes and their identity in Substance
in a progressive and evolutionary, instead of a substantive order.
Closely connected with the historical position assigned to Spinoza
is M. Pillon's placing of Malebranche. " He is generally made,"
M. Pillon says, "a disciple of Descartes leading to Spinoza; he is
therefore placed between the two as a connecting link ; whence
the reader is liable to take from his philosophy an apparent
character of inconsequence and indecision, which gives a false
idea of it. The truth is that by the date of his works, he comes
after Spinoza, and that he abandons or corrects precisely those
Cartesian principles that are fundamental to Spinozism. Male-
branche, like Leibnitz, is a reformer of the Cartesian philosophy.
Both the Leibnitzian and Malebranchian reforms are independent
and very different from each other. We hope to be able to show
that they mutually complete and rectify each other. We may say
that that of Malebranche is as complete and as profound as that of
Leibnitz. Both together contain a refutation of the system of
Spinoza" (p. 170 note). There are thus two grounds for placing
Malebranche after Spinoza, depending upon the respective dates
of the works of each and upon the statement that the philosophical
views of Malebranche are more advanced than those of Spinoza.
First, as regards the dates, the chief works of Malebranche appeared
during the years 1674-88 and those of Spinoza during 1670-7. But
when the untimely death of the one is compared with the long life
of the other, it is not too much to say that the chronological
argument is not conclusive ; and that, the difference being so slight,
the order of classification will be largely a matter of convenience.
In regard to M. Pillon's second argument or series of arguments,
he places a fair critic in a difficulty, since it would be manifestly
unfair to pass judgment upon the relation of two philosophies
when one of them remains still to be expounded. But there are
several points upon which M. Pillon has already been explicit, and
these must suffice, for the present, in estimating his point of view.
First, all positions are relative, and it must not be forgotten that
M. Pillon has altered that of Spinoza, moving him nearer to
118 CRITICAL NOTICES.
Descartes and farther from Leibnitz. Owing to this retrograde
movement, Malebranche is, as it were, crowded out in the earlier
sequence, and room must be found for him in the later. But if the
view already taken be tenable, Spinoza is not altogether " a realistic
dogmatist," and there is no need to postpone the hearing of the
case of Malebranche. Moreover, as an argumentum ad hominem,
it may be mentioned that M. Pillon frequently asserts that the
whole philosophy of Malebranche is anti-Spinozistic ; now if this
be so, how is the title of the series of articles justified, for no one
has yet defined " evolution " as an oscillation from contrary to
contrary 1 ? It would be premature to further investigate the
" corrections " of the doctrine of Spinoza due to Malebranche, but
there is one point upon which emphasis is laid, which is open to
present enquiry. M. Pillon clearly shows the difference between
the position of the will in the two systems ; with Spinoza it is a
phase of intellect, with Malebranche it has a distinct place, and
hence leads to an ethical system. Upon this, again, it may be
remarked that the classification is a matter of taste ; but in assigning
the value of a criterion to Ethical teaching in the seventeenth
century, M. Pillon seems to interpolate later thought into the
earlier period. The distinctive character of Modern Philosophy
before Kant is the placing of the centre of gravity in the Meta-
physics to which Ethics are a dependent supplement ; and con-
sequently too much weight should not be given to the Ethics of
Malebranche apart from his Metaphysics, indeed it has frequently
been pointed out that the two are by no means coherent ; and,
when the choice must be made between them, the whole tendency
of the time gives the casting vote to the Metaphysics.
W. R. SCOTT.
VIII NEW BOOKS.
The Elements of Ethics. By JAMES H. HYSLOP, Ph.D., Instructor in
Ethics, Columbia College. New York : W. Blackwood and Sons, 1895.
Pp. vii. 470.
THIS volume is described by the author as an " introductory treatise on
the fundamental problems of theoretical ethics," in which " the analysis of
various questions has been made as complete as reasonable limits would
allow, with the special purpose of trying to throw some light on the
perplexities of ethical theories, and to present the author's conclusions
regarding them." After an introductory chapter on the definition and
scope of the science, and a sketch (seventy pages in length) of the history
of Ethics, successive chapters deal with " Elementary Principles," the
" Freedom of the Will," " Responsibility and Punishment," " the Nature of
Conscience," the "Origin of Conscience," the "Theories and Nature of
Morality," " Morality and Religion," and the "Theory of Rights and Duties."
The treatment follows pretty closely in the wake of the familiar contro-
versies between libertarians and determinists, intuitionists and empiricists,
hedonists and anti-hedonists ; and the author is often successful in
drawing distinctions and clearing up obscurities which some of the
controversialists have overlooked. On the whole it is perhaps to be
regretted that he did not restrict himself, even more than he has done,
to one or two special questions on which much might be done by clearing
up the obscurities due to old controversies which now have either lost
their interest or appeal to us from a changed point of view. But the
exigencies of a volume which seems intended to serve as a text-book
for students, have led to a somewhat more comprehensive scheme, which
is not all worked out with the same fulness and accuracy.
Even in the introductory chapter there is some want of perfect clearness.
Ethics, as a science, is said to be "a name for the observation, classification,
and explanation of certain phenomena" (p. 1), namely, of "the phenomena
of human character and conduct," supplemented by reference to man's
environment. This suggests the view of ethics as simply a science
dealing with a certain body of facts and not clearly distinguishable, now
from psychology, now from sociology. But immediately certain character-
istics of ethics are given : it is said to be a science of values, to have to do
with the Ideal as contrasted with the Actual, and to be Legislative or
Normative (pp. 4 6). Ethics by its definition is made a Science of
phenomena observing, classifying, explaining them ; but its "character-
istic " is not to have to do with the actual but with the ideal, to be a
science of values and normative. One possible explanation of the in-
consistency is that two different aspects of ethics theoretical and
practical are being referred to. Thus Dr Hyslop says (p. 13) : " Theoreti-
120 NEW BOOKS.
cal Ethics employs the explanatory or scientific method ; practical Ethics
the normative or regulative method." But the characteristics described
on pp. 4 6 are evidently intended as characteristics of the subject treated
in the present volume, and that is said to be theoretical, not practical
ethics. Another sentence suggests a different view : " the fact that there
are certain ends, such as perfection, goodness, happiness, or honesty,
temperance, purity and the like, which we can and do feel we ought
to aim at, attests the existence of a phenomenon of great importance
to moral science" (p. 6). The suggestion seems to be that the ideal or
estimate of value or law of conduct, is itself a fact of consciousness,
and that this is the order of phenomena with which Ethics has to do.
But it is merely a suggestion ; and it would be unfair on so slight a
ground to attribute to the author a statement which would vindicate
the consistency of his different expressions only by obliterating the
distinction between fact and value of fact, actual and ideal the very
distinction which he had just been at pains to point out.
The long chapter on the "Origin and Development of Ethical Problems "
hardly fulfils the expectations raised by the title. Instead of simply
marking out the way in which different problems arose and the manner in
which their aspect changed in the history of thought, the author follows
pretty closely though not quite exactly the historical order of philo-
sophical authors. His chapter is, therefore, a condensed sketch of the
history of Ethics. As such it can scarcely be called satisfactory. There
seems a tendency to sacrifice the precise nature of certain historical
systems to the exigencies of a method of classification which has
always present-day controversies in view. There are besides various
inaccuracies, obscurities and omissions. As an instance of omission it
may be mentioned that the account of Aristotle's ethics contains no
reference to the function of the <p<w/*o? in determining the due mean in
which virtue consists ; while the account of the English moralists makes
no mention of their most characteristic thinker, Bishop Butler, who
is, however, afterwards (p. 260) incorrectly referred to as having made
" Conscience wholly an emotional capacity." Sometimes, also, the state-
ments are much too vague or loose to be of any value. Thus it is said
(p. 81) that : "Locke did not exactly follow the lines of Hobbes' specu-
lations" [concerning the origin and nature of political authority]. No
student could gather from such a sentence (nor is the information
supplied elsewhere) the clear opposition in which Hobbes and Locke stood
to one another regarding the relation between the law of nature and the
state of nature. The sentence on p. 69 "Berkeley had disputed the
existence of matter, and Hume on the same grounds disputed that
of mind, causality, personal identity, &c., leaving nothing but ' impressions,'
or experience, as the data of knowledge" is a series of confusions, each,
clause in which would require a commentary. Another sentence on the
same page has completely puzzled me ; I hope I am not doing wrong
in blaming the American printers for it ; in other respects they have not
done their part well for this volume. The same chapter contains the
assertions that Spinoza " represents a purely materialistic conception of the
universe" (p. 66) although he is classed with the idealistic movement,
and said to have " set up moral principles of a decidedly subjective
character" (p. 64); that, according to Hume, "ideas... denote relations
of things " (p. 84) ; that the school of " Cudworth, Cumberland, Price,
and Clarke," had as its common characteristic "hostility to the con-
ventionalism of Hobbes on the one hand, and to the experientialism
of Locke on the other" (p. 81) although Cudworth was dead and Cum-
berland's De Legibus Naturae published before Locke's Essay appeared.
NEW BOOKS. 121
No dates are given in the book by means of which the reader might correct
this slip for himself.
The remainder of the volume seems to me of better quality than the
introductory chapters. There is, for instance, a good criticism of Kant's
view of the nature of Conscience ; and there is much painstaking analysis
in the chapter on the " Freedom of the Will " : although the latter chapter
does not seem to me to carry the analysis far enough into the subjective
conditions of voluntary choice. The opinion expressed, in the chapter on
the "Theories and Nature of Morality," that "Neither perfection nor
happiness, taken alone, is the highest good.... The moral ideal is syn-
thetic or complex, made up of elements which alone cannot satisfy the
conception of morality," is at least interesting as an index of the trend of
opinion of many writers at the present time.
W. R. SORLEY.
Hedonistic Theories from Aristippus to Spencer. By JOHN WATSON, LL.B.,
Professor of Moral Philosophy in the University of Queen's College,
Kingston, Canada. Glasgow : James Maclehose & Sons. London
and New York : Macmillan & Co. 1895. Pp. xiii., 248.
Professor Watson has here given us a series of essays on the hedonism of
the Sophists, Aristippus, Epicurus, Hobbes, Locke, Hume, Bentham,
J. S. Mill, and Spencer. The first part of each essay consists of a clear
and concise, if, as in the case of Hobbes, not always adequate, summary of
the theory discussed ; while the second part is in each case a criticism of
the theory from the standpoint of the ethics of 'self-realization.' The
author's general objection to hedonism, as stated in the Preface, is that it
cannot "plausibly explain morality without assuming ideas inconsistent
with its asserted principle." His arguments against the older forms of
hedonism are all familiar ones, and, by the way, whatever one's opinion
of Locke as a moralist, many people would not allow that pointing out his
determinism constitutes a reductio ad absurdum of his doctrine. The best
thing in the book is the criticism of Spencer. Professor Watson seems to
us to spend too much time over the superfluous task of showing how little
is gained for ethics by the 'physical' and 'biological' way of regarding
conduct ; but he makes some excellent points in discussing the remainder
of the Data of Ethics. For instance, he objects to Mr Spencer's ideal
society in the following terms : " In the ultimate form of society conduct
will be perfectly ' heterogeneous.' Does this mean that there will be even
a greater division of employments than exists at present ? If so, will the
conduct of the individuals composing society not be less heterogeneous
than it now is, although society as a whole will be more heterogeneous ?
Is it meant, on the other hand, that each man will discharge more functions
than he now discharges, that while the individual will be more hetero-
geneous in his conduct, society will be less heterogeneous ? Again, while
it is said that there will be a perfect adaptation of the individual to society,
will this adaptation result from a simpler form of society, or from the
greater development of the individual ? If the latter, how can we put a
term to that development and view any form of society as final ? " [pp.
215, 216], Again, on p. 220 he shows with admirable clearness the weak
point in Mr Spencer's definition of the moral consciousness as the control
of simpler by more complex and representative feeling. Dread of punish-
ment is not a moral motive ; dread of inflicting suffering on others is.
Where is the criterion by which Mr Spencer makes the distinction ?
One's comment on Professor Watson's book as a whole is that it lacks
unity. The separate essays are good and helpful; but why not have
122 NEW BOOKS.
supplied a chapter discussing hedonism in general, summing up the objec-
tions scattered through the book, and showing more precisely the relation
of one form of the doctrine to others ? It is not evident, either, why the
theological hedonists should have been left wholly out of account. The
authors style is popular, occasionally descending to a cheerful familiarity,
as when he conjectures that under certain circumstances the Sophists
"would... have found Athens too hot for them." In spite of the defects we
have noted, its simplicity and conciseness will make the book a valuable
help to students beginning the history of ethics.
MARGARET WASHBURN.
Essays and Notices. By T. WHITTAKER. London : T. Fisher Unwin,
1895. Pp. viii., 370.
The Essays published in this volume are of a very miscellaneous character.
They are for the most part reprinted from Mind, and many of them are
mere book-reviews. The most important is the first, entitled " A Critical
Essay in the Philosophy of History." The point discussed is how far the
continuity of historical progress from ancient to modern civilisation is
broken by the Middle Ages. The general result is "that the return of
Europe to light has much more the character of an intrinsic process than
the descent into the dark ages. The causes of both transitions are
discoverable. In the first, an extrinsic cause gives its character to the
movement, whereas in the second the movement is correctly described as
a return." (P. 38.) The return was of course not a mere return, but one
which was modified by new political, social, and other conditions, which
had emerged in the mediaeval period. The 42 pages occupied by this
Essay are full of interesting matter, and deserve the attention of all who
are interested in the philosophy of history. Next in importance is the
Essay on " Volkmann's Psychology" occupying 48 pages. This is a very
clear and correct exposition, and should be of great use to any one who is
entering upon the study of the Herbartian development of psychology.
The Essay on " Philosophical Antinomies " contains an excellent criticism
of Renouvier's point of view. An interesting discussion on the subject
between M. Renouvier and the author is published in the Appendix.
Other Essays of special interest are that on " Idealism in England in the
Eighteenth Century," containing a review of M. Lyon's book on the
subject : that on " The Problem of Causality," which deals with the work
of Dr E. Koenig : and the two Papers on Giordano Bruno.
The Unity of Fichte's Doctrine of Knowledge. By ANNA BOYNTON
THOMPSON. With an Introduction by JOSIAH ROYCE, Ph.D.
Radcliffe College Monographs, Xo. 7. Boston, Mass. : Ginn & Co.,
1895. Pp. xx., 215.
This is a sympathetic, indeed, an enthusiastic exposition of the main
points of Fichte's philosophic system. From a careful study of Fichte's
various works Miss Thompson concludes that the different statements of
his doctrines are all in harmony, and that the system is unitary and con-
sistent throughout. The key to his position is that reality is a structure
upon a single plan, a logical whole. Given one element, and the whole
universe can be deduced from it. The apparent differences between Fichte's
conceptions in the earlier and later periods of his life are merely due to a
difference of standpoint. In the former, the philosopher was engaged in
proving the unity of reality and its final basis in the Absolute ; in the
NEW BOOKS. 123
latter, he was showing that this unity and "God, its head" were but logical
inferences, with no existence extra mentem. The Fichtean doctrines of
sensation, space and time, together with other details of his system, are
worked out upon this hypothesis. Much space is devoted to a discussion
of the striking applications of the system in ethics. Here are vividly por-
trayed the practical advantages of a belief in the teaching that we are
parts of an infinite strength, which works in us and through us, and on
which we may rely for unlimited inspiration and assistance.
Fichte is vigorously defended against the charge of solipsism and self-
creation. The first charge fails to recognise that what Fichte states to be
the sole existence is not the individual, but the absolute Ego. The second
has arisen because the logical progress from the individual to the universal,
from the isolated element to the unified system, has been mistaken for a
process in reality itself.
A valuable Appendix contains a colligation of the passages in the various
works which deal with important and disputed points in Fichte's doctrine.
This appendix, which forms the larger portion of the volume, should prove
particularly useful to the student of the Fichtean phase of post-Kantian
Idealism.
Miss Thompson's Essay will undoubtedly serve to remove many diffi-
culties from the path of the beginner in philosophy. In the mind of the
more mature reader, however, a doubt as to the exact relation obtaining
between the individual and the absolute Ego must still remain. No
method of logical thinking can make it clear how the Absolute can be at
once a source of strength and life to the mind that thinks Him, and
nothing outside of the mind at all.
W. B. PlLLSBURY.
Studies of Childhood. By JAMES SULLY, M.A., LL.D., Grote Professor
of Philosophy of Mind and Logic, University College, London.
London & New York : Longmans, Green & Co., 1895. Pp. viii., 527.
"The following Studies are not a complete treatise on child-psychology,
but merely deal with certain aspects of children's minds which happen to
have come under my notice, and to have had a special interest for me. In
preparing them I have tried to combine with the needed measure of exact-
ness a manner of presentation which should attract other readers than
students of psychology, more particularly parents and young teachers "
(Preface). An examination of the intellectual factors of child-life, with
stress upon imagination, includes indications, illustrated by anecdote, of
the early forms of the leading concrete ideas of Nature, Self, and God.
The emotional side of child-life is taken up in tracing the sources
of childish fears ; and is further treated in connection with two studies
of the moral life of children, 16 pages of which are devoted to the inte-
resting and subtle topic of " Children's Lies." Notice of matters related
to the aesthetic consciousness concludes the account of general character-
istics ; one study being based upon the remarkable set of drawings by
children and savages, which Professor Sully has collected from a wide
area, and subjected to scientific scrutiny and comparison. Some of the
facts concerning the front and side view of the human figure are especially
curious. The two concluding studies give individual histories, one as an
example of fairly representative development, the other as an instance of
singular and remarkable development, exemplified in the early days of
George Sand.
HUBERT M. FOSTON.
124 NEW BOOKS.
A Short Study of Ethics. By CHARLES F. D'ARCY, B.D. London :
Macmillan & Co., 1895. Pp. xxvii., 278.
This little book is intended to serve as an introduction to philosophical
ethics ; and in certain important respects it is admirably adapted to this
purpose. It is clearly and simply written, and interesting both in matter
and manner ; and it contains a good deal of careful and unpretentious
discussion of ethical topics.
On the other hand, neither the main outlines nor the details of the
discussion give evidence of much originality. The reviewer, no less than
the author, " finds it impossible to express adequately the greatness of the
debt" which this book owes to Green's Prolegomena to Ethics. Green's
argument, on the whole, is closely followed ; and, where the author deviates
from the track, his speculations cannot always be said to gain in vigour or
precision. There is room, no doubt, for an intelligent popular account of
Green's Ethics ; and perhaps Mr D'Arcy might have done better to present
his work under this, its more natural guise.
As an ethical text-book, the present volume can scarcely be regarded as
an improvement upon three others, of which the author himself speaks
with commendation, and which he claims to supplement by expounding
their 'metaphysical basis.' Many readers will learn with surprise that
Professors Dewey and Mackenzie, and Mr Muirhead " build without a
foundation" ; and those who are not surprised may be misled. An account,
contained in eighteen pages, of such matters, among others, as 'Subject
and Object,' 'Relations and Things,' 'Object and Cosmos,' 'Experience and
Nature,' and the ' Personality of God,' can hardly be expected to form a
very useful or satisfying preface to a ' Study of Ethics.' Mr D'Arcy"s
metaphysical chapters are too slight to be very convincing ; and, considered
as an argument, this ' foundation ' itself may be thought to stand in no
small need of support. This first 'part' is perhaps the least fortunate
section of the book.
The last two ' parts ' of the volume are better conceived than the first,
and contain a good deal of judicious exposition and criticism. The author
shows considerable familiarity with recent ethical literature ; and his book,
on the whole, is one of merit and ability.
CHARLES DOUGLAS.
Introduction to Physiological Psychology. By Dr THEODOR ZIEHEN, Pro-
fessor in Jena. Translated' by C. C. VAN LIEW, Ph.D., and OTTO W.
BEYER, Ph.D. London : Swan Sonnenschein and Co. ; New York :
Macmillan and Co., 1895. Pp. xiv., 305.
This is a translation of the second, revised and enlarged, edition of Professor
Ziehen's book. Besides making minor additions and corrections in many
places, the author has added a new chapter upon feeling-tone and emotion
(pp. 174197).
It was pointed out in a review of the first edition of the translation
(Mind, N.S. n., pp. 542, 543) that the English rendering was neither accurate
nor idiomatic. The same criticism holds of the second edition. Of the mis-
translations and inelegancies marked by the reviewer on the first 36 pp. of
the earlier volume, only one is amended in the later. The words 'motory'
and ' incitation,' which were charitably interpreted as misprints, remain in
the revised text.
"The terminology of this translation," we are told, "holds, so far as
possible, to already established precedents." No precedents are cited,
however : and the reviewer is unaware of any for such renderings as
"minimum of excitation " = Reizschwelle, etc., etc.
NEW BOOKS. 125
On Memory, and The Specific Energies of the Nervous System. By Professor
EWALD HEKING. Chicago : The Open Court Publishing Co., 1895.
Pp. 50.
The translation of these two well-known papers shows both the good and
bad points of the translations recently issued by the Open Court Publishing
Co. The English rendering is accurate : but it is not English. Here is a
sentence, taken at random from the body of the book : " The animal
kingdom exhibits an inexhaustible multiplicity of form, and to a layman
who is not initiated into the science of biology it seems almost incredible
that living creatures, so manifoldly different in their forms and habits,
should, as germs, in the first stage of their development, be so homo-
morphous" !
Evolution in Art: as illustrated by the Life-Histories of Designs. By
A. C. HADDON, Professor of Zoology, Royal College of Science,
Dublin. London : Walter Scott, 1895. (The Contemporary Science
Series.) Pp. xviii., 354.
This little volume is full of matter of great interest and value to the
psychologist. It first deals with the decorative art of New Guinea, giving
the results of the author's own independent research. It then proceeds
to " select examples from every age and clime in order to illustrate the
life-histories of a number of designs." After this comes a discussion of
the " reasons for which objects are decorated." Finally, hints are given as
to the most fruitful methods of studying the subject. What is most
interesting throughout to the psychologist is the way in which designs are
shown to grow through gradual modifications of pre-existing ideas, as they
enter into new relations. Fuller notice will follow.
Outlines of Psychology: based upon the results of experimental investi-
gation. By OSWALD KULPE, Professor of Philosophy in the University
of Wiirzburg. Translated from the German (1893) by E. B. TITCHENBR,
Sage Professor of Psychology in the Cornell University. London :
Swan Sonnenschein & Co., New York : Macmillan & Co., 1895.
Pp. xi., 462.
This is a good translation of a good book. It is by far the best introduc-
tion to Experimental Psychology accessible to the English reader. For
Critical Notice of the original work see Mind, N.S. Vol. in. No. 11, p. 413.
Temperament et Caractere: selon les individus, les sexes et les races. Par
ALFRED FOUILLEE. Paris: Felix Alcan, 1895. Pp. xx., 378.
This is the third of the remarkable series of attempts which the French
have made to construct a science of character. It is written with all
M. Fouillee's charm and lucidity of style. It contains much interesting
matter in detail : but its central conceptions expose it to severe criticism.
The author starts from the distinction between the innate and acquired
character. Before we consider the acquired character, we must consider
the innate: as if the two were not so interfused that any attempt to
treat them separately would be impossible. Hence the title of the book :
Temperament and Character.
In classifying the four temperaments, M. Fouille"e employs the physio-
logical distinction between anabolic and katabolic changes. He asserts
without proof, without considering whether it be even possible, that, in
the sanguine and nervous, there is a persistent and general predominance
126 NEW BOOKS.
of anabolic or synthetic changes over katabolic ; and, in the bilious and
phlegmatic, of the analytic or katabolic over synthetic. And, in like manner,
he attaches to this physiological predominance a psychological predominance
of the sensitive processes over the active, or of the active over the sensitive.
It does not occur to him that sensation is so intimately connected with
muscular action, that to strike a balance between them is impossible.
Nor does he even analyse the sense in which this predominance is to be
understood. Is a time-excess meant, or an excess in intensity, or in what?
In whichever sense we take it, the asserted predominance is unmeaning
and unsupported by evidence.
I think that M. Fouillee's classification of character is based on the
same fundamental error as his classification of temperament; and, we
may add, as his distinction between them. He seems fascinated by the
conception that where two processes are inseparable and interfused, it is
quite an easy matter to establish a predominance of one of them. He
classifies character according to the predominance of one of the three
inseparable functions, Feeling, Thought, Will. And here, as his conception
is shared by other psychologists, I must consider it more in detail. In
fact he only adds thought or intelligence to the classification of M. Ribot ;
and well shows, as against the latter, that intelligence must be regarded as
one of the main formative influences of character. But in what sense is
the predominance to be understood ? It cannot be in duration : for if the
three functions are inseparable, one cannot have a longer life in conscious-
ness than another. Is it in intensity I It is often remarked that when
feeling, as pleasure-pain, is at its maximal intensity, thought is at a
minimum. Does this mean that thought is relatively simple, that its
higher developments are impossible? Obviously it does : but does it mean
in addition that the relatively simple thought is reduced to a minimum of
intensity ? I am doubtful about this. The intensity of the feeling cannot
be kept outside the thought which penetrates it. In the extremity of pain
or pleasure, we have an intense awareness of the fact. We cannot then
infer, when feeling is at its maximal intensity, that it predominates in this
respect; only that it involves the relapse of thought to a lower and
relatively simple quality. And how are we to adjust these different values,
the intensity of feeling and the quality of thought, so as to mean anything
by the predominance of one or the other ?
And this leads me to the third meaning we may attach to the pre-
dominance of a mental function. We may mean its superior quality or
development. A man of predominant intellect means a man of a higher
quality or development of intelligence. But this also implies what taken
apart we may call the fourth meaning of ' predominance.' We may mean
superior strength, as estimated by the attainment of its end, and the
difficulty of that end. And now we come to the most important distinc-
tion. There is an objective, as well as a subjective, predominance. A man
of superior intelligence, or of intense feeling, or of strong will, means a
man who predominates in one or the other in comparison with the same
function in different men, not in comparison with the different functions
in himself. And this objective predominance of a function does not
involve its subjective predominance. If we ask whether a will which is
stronger than the wills of average men is also stronger than its own
thought and feeling, the question cannot be answered off-hand, and in
part seems unintelligible. How can the will be stronger than thought ?
Without thought the will is not merely powerless, but non-existent. They
are allies, not opponents. I mean speaking generally. There are of course
certain kinds of thought which would conflict with the strong will of the
man of affairs. He has to confine himself to what is practical. And if
NEW BOOKS. 127
we use thought in a special sense, we may say that his will is developed at
the expense of his intelligence ; just as in the highest development of
thought we may say the intellect is developed at the expense of the will ;
not at the expense of the will in general, for it involves a very persistent
will, but at the expense of that masterful will which the practical man
develops in the conflicts of life. Now as I understand M. Fouill^e, he does
not mean this special kind of subjective predominance which we all
recognise, but that general subjective predominance of one of the in-
separable psychical functions over the others which is in the highest
degree doubtful and uncertain. " The type of character," he says, " is the
result of the mutual relation of the three great psychical functions" (p.
121) : and where they are not in equipoise and form a balanced character,
there is a predominance of one or two. Does, then, the strong will of the
born ruler predominate over his feelings ? Certainly in a special sense it
does. This or that variety of feeling, as this or that tendency of thought,
needs restraint, and his will predominates in the conflict. But, speaking
generally, feeling is as necessary to him as thought. Without the master-
passion to subdue the wills of other men and accomplish his ambitious
projects, where would be the strength of his will ? There is a kind of will
which is cold and inflexible; and here, if anywhere, we shall find it
predominant over feeling. Men of this type M. Fouillee describes as
having a strong will with much intelligence and little sensibility (p. 178).
They are "the cold energetic calculators that are stopped by nothing in
the execution of their plans," men of the stamp of Von Moltke or Turenne.
Now this is no doubt a genuine type of character, formed, as I should
express it, by the conjunction of a strong will with a high quality of
intelligence and little intensity of feeling. Consider the different values
that are here brought together. What is to be our standard of comparison
between them ? And what predominance is there other than this objective
predominance : that his will is stronger than the average, the quality of
his thought superior ; while he falls below the average in the intensity of
his feelings ?
Now I gather that what M. Fouille"e expressly means by the pre-
dominance of a function is its superior intensity in relation to the other
functions : " C'est le rapport d'intensite" entre les trois fonctions de la vie
psychique qui se traduit par la forme plus ou moins harmonique du
caractere" (p. 121). Apply this to his first type in which feeling pre-
dominates. There is little force of will or intelligence. Tt is the impulsive
type so frequently met with among children and young people. The
feelings predominate in intensity ? But they cannot. The intensity of the
feelings penetrates the impulsive will that embodies them. The feelings
are an element in the volition ; and the intensity of the one qualifies the
other. Lastly the little intelligence of the type obviously means an
intelligence of low development. Could we possibly interpret it to mean a
lower degree of intensity ? The ideas of children of strong sensibility are
not likely to be weak in intensity, but peculiarly vivacious : the intensity
of their feelings is communicated to their ideas.
Thus we are quite unable to interpret this type as due to the subjective
predominance of one of the mental functions. The predominance, as in
the last, is objective. The feelings are above the average in intensity,
while the intelligence falls below the average in quality, and the will in
firmness and self-control. I might take separately the other interesting
types which M. Fouillee has given us with a like result. I can only
interpret them so far as I depart from his principle of classification ;
which neither he, nor anyone else, can apply intelligibly. But this principle
is very plausible, and it was necessary to consider it in detail. I suspect
128 NEW BOOKS.
that an observer of character who is not a psychologist, nor accustomed
to define the meaning of his words, would be attracted by it : and as the
ordinary man regards thought, feeling, and will, as more or less separate
entities within himself, what is more natural than to suppose that one
develops independently of the others, and often at their expense ?
ALEXANDER F. SHAND.
Etude sur Vespace et le temps. Par GEORGES LECHALAS, ingenieur en chef
des ponts et chauss^es. Paris : Felix Alcan, 1895.
This book deals with the mathematical and metaphysical, not with the
psychological, aspects of space and time. In the first chapter, on geo-
metrical space, the author discusses the nature of geometrical proof. No
postulates are required, since, as inetageornetry shews, all Geometry flows
from the mere definition of space, and definitions do not involve the
existence of their objects. The justification of a definition lies in the
absence of contradiction in its results. Thus general Geometry is apodeictic,
but the decision between Euclid and non-Euclid is empirical.
In Mechanics, which is next discussed, we must begin by the choice of
a unit-movement, assumed uniform, and chosen from motives of simplicity.
We must choose our axes from the same motive; e.g. for axes rotating
with the sun, Kepler's laws would be false. This does not involve absolute
motion, but only care in the selection of axes. (The difficulty, however,
lies in the fact, overlooked by our author, that the axes have to be fixed
by reference, not to particular bodies, but to empty space.) The funda-
mental notion of Dynamics is not force, but mass ; the determination of
actual masses is empirical, but apart from this, Dynamics follows apodeic-
tically from Geometry.
After a chapter on the Geometry of our universe, which adds little to
Chapter I., M. Lechalas discusses the problem of similar worlds and the
reversibility of the material universe. The former problem is meaningless,
since a proportional change of all temporal and spatial magnitudes would
be no change. As to the latter, a reversed world would be unstable and
improbable. (This answer does not touch the difficulty apparently in-
soluble on a purely mechanical level which lies in the absence of qualita-
tive difference between past and future in mathematical time.)
From a discussion of Kant's antinomies and Zeno's arguments against
motion, the author is led to declare that motion is discontinuous. The
difficulties of space have hitherto proved insoluble ; as to time, however,
the Transcendental Analytic provides a solution, by identifying temporal
succession with causation. The discrete irreducible elements of motion,
again, afford a natural unit for time-measurement, and correspond to
distinct events in the causal chain.
The book is chiefly useful as a bibliography of recent French works on
the philosophy of Mathematics ; its own solutions almost always evade the
fundamental difficulties they are intended to resolve.
B. A. W. RUSSELL.
Das menschliche Handeln. Philosophische Ethik. Von D. Dr A. DORNER,
O. 6. Professor an der Universitat Konigsberg. Berlin : Mitscher und
Kostell, 1895. Pp. xii., 737.
The author of this philosophical work has already won for himself a
reputation as metaphysician and theologian. He now seeks to perform
for man's active function a service parallel to what he had previously
done for the cognitive function. A singularly fresh and comprehensive
treatment he has given us. I believe that this massive volume on
NEW BOOKS. 129
philosophical ethics will make his name better known among English-
speaking nations than anything he has before done. Broadly and firmly
does Professor Dorner bring the whole range of really human action within
the sphere and compass of ethical nature and judgment. He would thus
avoid the one-sidedness of stress either on the acting subject and his
dispositions, or on the product or external result of his action. The
conception of action is, with him, the link or Band that unites these
diverse points of view. Action, with him, does not mean every empirical
endeavour possible to man, but only such action as is correspondent with
essential man. Regard must be had, he thinks, to the psychological quality
whereby the essence of man shews itself not with any idea of deriving
ethics from psychology, but merely of doing justice to psychological
occurrences, so far as they come into view in our acting. The psycho-
logical basis of ethics must be investigated, yet the ethical life must not
be treated as only a particular group of psychological occurrences. Nor
does he depend on the empiric development of humanity for the under-
standing of the ethical, but on those moral ideals which humanity has
imaged forth ideals often enough in antagonism to existing reality.
He would in this way attain to the congruent ethical construction of the
present. It remains true that the characteristic of the ethical spirit is
endpositing activity, which always goes out beyond the merely given
character of things that simply happen. Yet Dr Dorner sees how neces-
sary realisation is to ideals, though the realisation can only be partial.
He will not renounce all connection of ethics with metaphysic, and
resolve ethics completely into psychologic phenomenalism. He thinks
Ethics has its religious presuppositions, for ethical life without religion
cannot be the most perfect in Kind. Religion does not begin where ethics
ends where, that is to say, there is no more room for man to act. Ethics
can cease only where conscious will ceases. It must be possible to be pious
and moral fromm und sittlich at one and the same time. Professor Dorner
aims in an especial degree at bringing out the compact unity or unified
character of morality; he would demonstrate morality to constitute a
totality, and would shew its unconditional validity. He seems to fear
that, in treating of the relation of ethics to metaphysic and religion, he
may have done more than many modern philosophers will wish, and less
than many theologians will ask. I think it certain that some, who like
Professor Dorner himself are both of these in one, will thank him for his
broad and inclusive treatment, and that others, among philosophers at
least, will accord him patient and interested hearing. All will admire the
exemplary scientific spirit in which he has proceeded, taking it for his chief
aim, not to be positive or negative, right or left, but to be true and
impartial. Professor Dorner deals in his Introduction with the conception,
task, and scope, of philosophical ethics, writing with independent and
sustained power of thought, and he is sometimes finely critical and sugges-
tive. Through many modern references he proceeds to shew the insufficiency
of the views alike of those who treat ethics as a purely theoretic discipline
and of those who resolve it into a thing of purely practical value. Ethical
science can never be a purely theoretic discipline so long as it has to
do with not only every aspect of what is given, but also, and much more,
with the ideal which reaches out beyond our empirical Knowledge. Nor can
ethics be viewed as simply something practical. It must mean a widening
or enlarging of our knowledge, as becomes a normative or ideal science.
But now, taking the ideal as his norm, our author goes on to consider how
man may become sure that the ideal is really the highest, and is something
scientifically tenable. The unconditional character of morality is firmly
maintained by Dr Dorner, although he does not think it quite an easy
M. 9
130 NEW BOOKS.
matter. He thinks it perfectly intelligible that a number of our newer
writers on ethics should give up or quietly put aside the moral imperative.
Only, he thinks the unconditional character of the moral imperative will
not be done away without morality itself being thereby desti-oyed. In the
First Part of his work he proceeds to deal with the presuppositions of
ethics. He touches first on the Kantian attempt not able, of course, to
sustain itself to ground ethics so completely in itself that, from the
standpoint of the absolute autonomy, presuppositions for ethics become no
longer necessary. We have a division dealing with the " phenomenology "
of the moral consciousness, next a division devoted to metaphysical
presuppositions of ethics, and a third division on the religious presup-
positions in ethics.
The Second Part of the work proceeds in a very full manner with
ethics as system the system of human action. The first division here
deals with the universal features of ethics, and the second develops
detailed or particular treatment of ethical system. This latter task is
performed in three sections, treating respectively of the doctrines of duty,
of virtue, and of the good. Everywhere Professor Dorner wields an
easy control over large masses of fact. The practical issues dealt with are
not less important than the speculative, to which I have referred. He has
given us a timely and masterly contribution to ethics, marked whether
one always agrees or not by great philosophic insight and grasp. It is,
besides, written with a lucidity of style to which, it must be said, not
many among his countrymen may lay claim.
JAMES LINDSAY.
Kant-Studien. Von Dr ERICH ADICKES. Kiel und Leipzig : Verlag von
Lipsius und Tischer, 1895. Pp. 185.
These Studies deal with all the leading questions relating to Kant's
intellectual development. The book begins with a sketch of the history
of German epistemology from Kant to Leibnitz, which occupies 51 pages.
Considering its necessary brevity, this is admirably done. The relation of the
principle of " contradiction " and that of " sufficient reason," in the philosophy
of Leibnitz, is set in a clear light, together with the corresponding dis-
tinction between truths of reason and truths of fact. Another commendable
feature of this part of the work is the emphasis laid on the distinction
formulated by Crusius between prindpium essendi and printipium cognos-
cendi. In the next section of the work, which deals with Kant's original
standpoint, as expressed in the Nova Diluddatio of 1755, the influence of
Crusius finds expression in the Kantian distinction between the ratio
antecedenter determinant and the ratio consequenter determinans. But
Crusius himself had by no means clearly grasped the nature of the
antithesis between ideal and real connexion ; and Kant, in 1755, had not
advanced so far in this direction as his predecessor. His theory of know-
ledge is in essentials that of Leibnitz and Wolff. Adickes next discusses
what has been called the empirical period in Kant's development. Here
he makes an important distinction. We must not confuse Kant's position
in 1762-3, with his position in 1765-6. At the earlier date he was still
predominantly a rationalist. The empirical tendency, indeed, manifested
itself in his refusal to regard the relation of effect and cause as one of
predicate and subject in an analytical judgment. But the existence of
causal relations still appeared to him to be discoverable through pure
reason a priori. The simple concepts of real connexion are not derived
from sensible experience ; they are contained in our own mental prefor-
mation, and sense-experience only serves as the occasion of their emergence
NEW BOOKS. 131
into clear consciousness. Thus Kant is here substantially at the stand-
point of Leibuitz. In 1763, on the contrary, all judgments of real con-
nexion are regarded as synthetic, in distinction from analytic, and are
referred to experience as their source and ground. The next topic con-
sidered is the transformation undergone by Kant's thought in the year
1769. Adickes contends, as against B. Erdmann, that this was due to the
influence of Hume. His argument appears to us quite inconclusive. He
convicts Erdmann of some errors in detail, but leaves his general position
unshaken. In the Dissertation of 1770, Kant remains essentially a
rationalist in his view of the categories. They are innate laws of the
mind, discoverable by analysis of inner experience. The nature and proof
of their validity is not expounded from the critical standpoint ; and it
would seem that they are still held to be applicable to things-in-them-
selves. Their justification by the analysis of the concept of a possible
experience, and their strict limitation within the sphere of possible
experience, are not to be found in the Dissertation; and it is not clear
that Kant at this period keenly or clearly felt the difficulties which led to
the subsequent critical development. That special awakening from his
dogmatic slumber, which he ascribes to Hume, had not at this date taken
place. This does not imply that he had not read Hume, but only that,
like everybody else, he did not as yet understand him. However profound
Kant's mind was, it was certainly not quick in its movements. The last
twenty pages discuss the date at which the Kritik of Pure Reason was
composed, and maintain, in opposition to E. Arnoldt, that it was com-
pleted in the first half of 1780, and not in 1779.
Throughout the work there are many points of interest which we have
not space to refer to. These Studies cannot be neglected by any serious
student of Kant.
Geschichte der neueren Philosophic. Eine Darstellung der Geschichte der
Philosophic von dem Ende der Renaissance bis zu unseren Tagen.
Von Dr HARALD HOFFDING, Professor an der Universitat in Kopen-
hagen. Erster Band. Unter Mitwirkung des Verfassers aus dem
Danischen ins Deutsche ubersetzt von F. BENDIXEN. Leipzig : 0. R.
Reisland, 1895. London, Williams & Norgate. Pp. xii., 587.
This First Volume deals with the pre-Kantian development of Philosophy.
Professor Hb'ffding's work presents features which give it a distinctive
value among the many books which deal with the same subject. It is, in
our opinion, the most readable of them. It brings out with especial
Clearness and adequacy the connexion between the development of
Philosophy and the general development of culture. It has also the
advantage of not being "made in Germany." The impartial Dane gives
what we regard as due prominence to English thinkers. He has evidently
studied them at first hand. Full notice will follow.
Die moderne physiologische Psychologie in Deutschland. Eine historisch-
kritische Untersuchung mit besonderer Beriicksichtigung des Problems
der Aufmerksamkeit. Von Dr W. HEINEICH. Zurich : Verlag von
E. Speidel, 1895. Pp. iv., 232.
Analyses and criticises the doctrine of Attention in Fechner, Helmholtz,
G. E. Muller, Pilzecker, Wundt, N. Lange, Kiilpe, Miinsterberg, Ziehen,
and Avenarius. He urges against them all that they have not been true
to the law of psycho-physical Parallelism. He thinks that they ought to
have stated all their explanations in terms of physiology, whereas, in fact,
they have recourse, at many points, to purely psychological exposition.
92
132 NEW BOOKS.
According to Dr Heinrich the true method is first to ascertain the
physiological fact, and then to assign its psychical counterpart. We hope,
for his own sake, that he will not attempt to apply this method too
consistently.
Der Geist der neueren Philosophic. Von ROBERT SCHELLWIEN. Erster
Theil. Leipzig : Alfred Janssen. London : Williams and Norgate,
1895. Pp. vii. 163.
The spirit of modern philosophy is understood in this treatise in a strictly
historical sense. It excludes all empirical interpretations of consciousness
which reveals itself in a continuous progress or movement (p. 6). At first
sight, it is strange that this point of view is found compatible with the
prominence given to Spinoza, and in fact nearly two-thirds of the book is
devoted to a careful and original study of his system. Contrary to
established commentaries the author finds the dominant note of Spinoza's
thought in the conception of freedom (p. 73), and hence a new interpreta-
tion of causality in the philosophy of substance. Although this theory is
opposed to the general tendency of critics of Spinoza, Kuno Fischer is
singled out for attack upon his assertion that " God acts " must be
understood in the sense that things follow (in a mathematical sense) from
the nature of God. To this it is replied that the contrary is the truth, it
is the fact of God's action that is the primary point in the system, the
expression "ex Dei natura sequitur" does not explain the expression
" Deus agit " ; but upon the contrary the " agere " explains and determines
the "sequi" (p. 93). From this point of view, it might easily be con-
jectured, new lights are thrown upon the system in detail, without at the
same time verging too widely from its practical results and obvious
renderings. In fact the hypothesis gains its plausibility from the fact that
action is confined to the Divine sphere and hence the modes remain
undisturbed. The present part concludes with an interesting contrast
between the causal theories of Spinoza and Darwinian Evolution.
W. R. SCOTT.
Die Grundprobleme der Logik. Von JUL. BERGMANN. Zweite vollig neue
Bearbeitung. Berlin: Mittler und Sohn, 1895. London: Williams
and Norgate. Pp. 232.
The work, of which this is a second and much altered edition, appeared in
1882, being a general review of the logical position taken up by the author
in a previous work, Reine Logik. The present book consists of an Intro-
duction, containing Sections on the sphere and departments of Logic,
Formal and Metaphysical Logic, and the procedure of Logic; and two
Parts, of which the first treats of Thought and Knowledge, the second of
Progressive Knowledge. Critical Notice will follow.
Elementi di Psicologia e Logica ad uso dei licei. Per FRANCESCO Prof.
BONATELLI. II. Edizione. Padova : F. Sacchetto, 1895. Pp. 347.
This little manual has reached its second edition in the fourth year of its
existence. No changes have been introduced, the author having contented
himself with merely ' touching up ' the diction in the way of clearness and
exactness. His presentation of the subject in two consecutive parts is
certainly very lucidly and directly effected so far as it goes. That it can
be very adequate is hardly to be expected within such narrow limits
especially in those left over for Logic, viz. only 97 pages. Accordingly we
NEW BOOKS. 133
meet, not seldom, with very sketchy treatment, e.g. in the opposition of
propositions and in induction, which with a curiously antiquated effect we
find treated as syllogism. It would have been a wiser plan to have
reserved for a worthier exposition of induction the pages given up to
a section on ' metaphysical psychology ' with its discussion of the difference
between the io and the anima, and the like. However, it is interesting to
follow the exposition of both subjects in its divergences from English
methods. But an absence now and again of continuity or evolution
of presentation causes it to produce a somewhat disjointed and superficial
impression.
EECEIVED also :
Frank Granger, The Worship of the Romans, London, Methuen & Co.,
1895, pp. ix., 308.
J. M. Robertson, Buckle and his Critics: a study in Sociology, London,
Swan Sonnenschein & Co., 1895, pp. vii., 565. (Critical Notice will
follow.)
T. W. Taylor, The Individual and the State : an Essay on Justice, Boston
U. S. A., and London, Ginn & Co., 1895, pp. 90.
A. Davis, Elementary Physiology, (Blackie's Science Text-Books), London,
Blackie and Son, 1895, pp. 223.
W. Tallack, Penological and Preventive Principles, Second and Enlarged
Edition, London, Wertheimer, Lea & Co., 1896, pp. xii., 480.
A. E. Giles, Moral Pathology, London, Swan Sonnenschein & Co., 1895,
pp. viii., 179.
E. Ferri, Criminal Sociology, London, T. Fisher Unwin, 1895, pp. 284.
A. Lichtenberger, Le Socialisme au xviii* siecle, London, Felix Alcan, 1895,
pp. 471.
L. Dugas, Le Psittacisme et la Pense'e Symbolique, Paris, Felix Alcan, 1895,
pp. 202.
J. Lourbet, La Femme decant la science contemporaine, Paris, Felix Alcan,
1896, pp. viii., 178.
J.-J. Rousseau, Du Contrat Social (Edition comprenant avec le texte
de"finitif les Versions primitives de 1'Ouvrage collationndes sur
les Manuscrits autographes de Geneve et de Neuchatel), une
introduction et des notes par E. Dreyfus-Brisac, Paris, Felix
Alcan, 1896, pp. xxxvi., 424.
L. Mabilleau, Histoire de la Philosophie Atomistique, Paris, Felix Alcan,
1895, pp. vii., 560.
M. Jae'll, La Musique et la Psychophysiologie, Paris, Felix Alcan, 1896,
pp. vi., 170.
F. H. Ritter von Arneth, Das classische Heidenthum und die christliche
Religion, Zwei Bander, London, Williams and Norgate, 1895, pp.
396 and 332.
IX. PHILOSOPHICAL PERIODICALS.
THE PHILOSOPHICAL REVIEW. Vol. iv., No. 5. J. Royce. 'Self-con-
sciousness, Social Consciousness and Nature, (I).' [Continues the discussion,
begun in Sept., 1894, of the "External World and the Social Consciousness."
Defends and illustrates two theses : (1) " a man is conscious of himself, as
this finite being, only in so far as he contrasts himself, in a more or less
definitely social way, with what he takes to be the... conscious life of some
other finite being"; and "except by virtue of some such contrast" he
" cannot become self-conscious" ; (2) "the original... of the conception of a
non-ego is given to me in my social experiences " ; " our conception of
physical reality as such is secondary to our conception of our social fellow-
beings, and is actually derived therefrom."] J. Watson. ' The Absolute
and the Time Process, (II).' [If the Absolute is beyond the time-process,
there is no possibility of knowledge. Yet an Absolute in process is said to
be a self-contradiction. One way of escape is to regard time as a ' mere
appearance ' (Kant, Bradley). A better way is to look on it as an universal
aspect of the states of the real : time is then the thought of pure succes-
sion, the conception of every possible succession. The Absolute is not in
time ; it is " the principle of unity presupposed in all succession." On the
other hand, were there no succession of events, there would be no
Absolute. How shall we conceive of this Absolute 1 The definitions of it
as a substance, a first cause, and an abstract person are inadequate. The
Absolute is a " spirit, i.e., a being whose essential nature consists in
opposing to itself beings in unity with whom it realises itself " ; a " self-
alienating or self-distinguishing subject."] H. Nichols. ' The Feelings.'
[" The feelings are the normal motor-ideas of our instinctive conduct. The
brain mechanism of the instincts is non-plastic. . .The distinguishing
characteristic of the feelings, presentatively, is their simplicity. This
simplicity is due to the non-serial character of the stimulations which
reach the instinct-mechanism, and to this mechanism's lack of that
plastic susceptibility which, lending itself to serial modification, is,
together with the latter, requisite for presentative organisation and de-
velopment."] Discussions : J. H. Hyslop. ' Desiderata in Psychology.'
[Plea for better classification.] A. T. Ormond. ' " Basal Concepts " : a Re-
joinder.' [Reply to Alexander's criticism, May, 1895.] Reviews of Books.
Summaries of Articles. Notices of New Books.
Vol. iv., No. 6. J. Eoyce. 'Self-consciousness, Social Consciousness
and Nature, (II).' [Takes up the following positions : (3) " any metaphysi-
cal proof that... physical nature exists at all, must also be a proof that
behind the phenomena of nature... there is other conscious life finite
like our own, but unlike " in so far as it " does not enter into closer social
relations with us human beings " ; (4) there is a probable proof for " a real
finite world called the Realm of Nature " ; and as external nature exists by
PHILOSOPHICAL PERIODICALS. 135
virtue of a more or less definite appeal to the categories of our social
consciousness, this proof points to a finite life behind natural phenomena,
" in more or less remote, but socially disposed relations to us " : (5) the
proof is furnished by the facts of Evolution, and Evolution " promises to
become a sort of universal Sociology " ; (6) the author's view must not be
confused with animism, hylozoism or the doctrine of mind-stuff, with the
ideas of Schopenhauer, Schelling or von Hartmann. It differs from them
in genesis : it makes of Evolution " the history of the differentiation of one
colony of the universal society from the parent social order of the finite
world in its wholeness."] N. Wilde. ' The Question of Authority in Early
English Ethics.' [This, the burning question for the sixteenth and seven-
teenth centuries, was answered with any degree of clearness by Hobbes
alone.] E. M. Bowden. 'Ethics, Theoretical and Applied.' [Different
modes of inquiry are appropriate to the two branches of ethics ; the
examination in the abstract of the underlying principles which determine
the moral quality of the' feelings prompting conduct ; and the assigning of
a particular case, in the concrete, to the category under which it falls.]
W. W. Carlile. ' Natura naturans.' [The conception of the world as a
mechanical system really involves belief in the existence of a mechanician
outside it. Illustrations from language, institutions, physiology ; criticism
of Mill. The predicates of the universal mind ; criticism of Hegel.] Dis-
cussions : D. S. Miller. ' Professor Watson on Professor Fullerton's Trans-
lation of Spinoza.' [Defence of Fullerton.] J. H. Hyslop. ' An Explanation.'
[Of misprints in his Ethics.] Reviews of Books. Summaries of Articles.
Notices of New Books. Notes.
THE PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW. Vol. n., No. 5. J. Royce. ' Some obser-
vations on the Anomalies of Self-Consciousness, (I).' [Our inner notion of
the self of self-consciousness is (1) a mass of somewhat vaguely localised
sensory contents, and (2) feelings of self-possession or spontaneity, in
virtue of which the self appears to control the train of association,
impulses, and acts of attention and of choice. This primary self-conscious-
ness grows so as to include (3) the self of past and future, and (4) social
and professional self-estimation. All four stages of the self are liable to
forms of diseased variation. On the formation of the complex self, its
liability to variation, and the reason of variation in definite directions, we
may throw light by asking: How do we get the habit of drawing a
boundary, in consciousness, between ego states and non-ego states 1 How
is it that the ego shifts with alteration of the non-ego ? And how does the
ego become so intimately related to the sensations of the common sensi-
bility? The answers offered are in substantial agreement with those
given by Baldwin (Mental Development^ and follow from the writer's
philosophical discussions of self-consciousness in the Phil. Rev.] H. Ellis.
' On Dreaming of the Dead.' [In a certain type of dream the dreamer
sees a dead person as alive, and has to account for the image ; the most
obvious theories are either that the dead person has not really died, or
that he has returned from the dead. The type may have an anthropo-
logical significance.] 8. F. McLennan. ' Emotion, Desire and Interest :
Descriptive.' [Parallel analyses of emotion and desire.] R. M. Bache. 'Re-
action-time with Reference to Race.' [Simple impressions, auditory, visual,
or tactual, " invite secondary reflex action." Hence low races should react
more quickly than high. Experiments on eleven Indians, eleven Africans,
and twelve Caucasians, give some support to the hypothesis.] Discussions :
H. Nichols. 'Pain Nerves.' [Against Strong's view that pain impulses
are exaggerations of tactual and temperature impulses, and are conducted
inward by the same fibres.] J. M. Baldwin. ' Professor Watson on Reality
136 PHILOSOPHICAL PERIODICALS.
and Time.' [Reality in its completeness cannot be merely a thinkable
reality : if thinkable, it must have the quality of moving the possible
thinker by way of belief, ethical appreciation, etc. But it may be so
simple as to be unthinkable, resting "in its own limpid immediacy."]
Psychological Literature. Notes.
Vol. II., No. 6. D. S. Miller. ' The Confusion of Content and Function
in Mental Analysis.' [A confusion, frequent in psychological controversy,
"consists in supposing that mental causes... must themselves be an index,
by the internal evidence they offer, of the train of consequences that they
entail," that content is a sufficient key to function. Instances are given
to prove the mischief which follows upon this confusion.] J. M. Baldwin.
'The Origin of a "Thing" and its Nature. 1 [Statements of nature are
mostly statements of origin. These do not exhaust the reality of a thing,
however, since the reality not only has had but is about to have a career.
To rule out teleology (prospective organisation) would be fatal to science.
A thing's natural history does not show that it has no worth beyond the
details of that history. Every mental content begets and confirms the
retrospective attitude, but also begets the expectant or prospective
attitude.] J. Royce. 'Some Observations on the Anomalies of Self-con-
sciousness, (II).' [Details of a case of deranged self-consciousness. Summary
of this and the preceding paper : (1) self-conscious functions are primarily
social functions ; (2) in primary contrasts of ego and non-ego, the ego
includes modifications of the common sensibility and the feelings of
control, while the non-ego is colder, better localised and less controllable ;
(3) emotions and masses of common sensation become associated to social
situations ; (4) different forms of the association give rise to memorial and
to reflective self-consciousness (we may be self-conscious "even when
quite alone with our own states ") ; (5) the anomalies of self-consciousness
are either primary alterations of common sensation, suggesting anomalous
social situations, or primary anomalies in social habits themselves.]
G. Tawney. 'The Perception of Two Points not the Space-Threshold.
[Preliminary work along the lines recently laid down by Kulpe, but
without reference to Kiilpe's discussion.] Discussion and Reports :
H. E. Marshall. ' Physical Pain.' [Defence of the author's owafe-theory
against Strong.] J. H. Claiborne. ' A Case of Subjective Pain. [Pain was
suffered, during and after an operation, " for which there was no apparent
cause." As agreeable and disagreeable images were voluntarily aroused,
relief and pain succeeded one another.] Psychological Literature. Notes.
THE AMERICAN JOURNAL OF PSYCHOLOGY. Vol. vn., No 1. Editorial.
T. R. Robinson. 'Experiments on Fechner's Paradoxon.' A. Kirschmann.
' Remarks on the Foregoing Article.' [The phenomenon is dependent on
the absolute intensity of the light employed. Points of doubt are whether
it occurs in the case of real binocular combination with tridimensional
properties, and in that of partly coincident double-images.] J. 0. Quantz.
' The Influence of the Colour of Surfaces on our Estimation of their
Magnitude.' [Moderately sized surfaces on darker background are over-
estimated at the less refrangible, and underestimated at the more
refrangible end of the spectrum. Similar and similarly seen surfaces,
white or coloured, are underestimated when moving to or from the eye.]
Minor Studies from the Laboratory of Cornell University : W. B. Pillsbury.
' Some Questions of the Cutaneous Sensibility.' [Determination of the
space limen by Weber's localisation method, corrected to meet Czermak's
objection, etc.] D. R. Major. ' On the Affective Tone of Simple Sense
Impressions.' [An attempt to employ the serial method in the domains of
sight, sound and touch. Many of the results are in opposition to those of
PHILOSOPHICAL PERIODICALS. 137
Cohn (Phil. Stud., x., 4).] E. B. Titchener. 'A Psychophysical Vocabu-
lary.' [German-English.] Minor Studies from the Laboratory of Wel-
lesley College: M. W. Learoyd. 'The "Continued Story".' [Nearly 75%
of children have continued stories; girls slightly more often than boys.
Character and origin of the stories.] M. W. Calkins. ' Synaesthesia.'
[' Forms,' varieties of pseudochromaesthesia, associations of colour with
sound and shape, etc. Explanations. Specimen questionnaire.] Psycho-
logical Literature. [G. S. Hall on Psychical Research.] Notes.
REVUE PHILOSOPHIQUE. 20"" 1 Annee, No. 9. (Septembre, 1895.) Dugas.
'Auguste Comte: Etude critique et psychologique (I.).' [Discusses first
the inner coherence of Comte's philosophy. He falls into inconsistencies
in his view of the relation between "heart" and intellect. On the one
hand, he makes scientific knowledge the basis of progress ; on the other,
he regards scientific knowledge as useless without the "enthusiasm of
humanity " ; whereas this enthusiasm, even apart from scientific training,
is capable of supreme insight and has supreme value. A general sketch is
then given of the life of Comte. His utterly unpractical character is well
brought out. Intensely pre-occupied by ideal aims and principles, he was
thereby rendered blind to the facts of ordinary life. Fallacies of memory
were of constant occurrence with him. He always represented past events
in his life, not as they were, but as they ought to have been from his point
of view at the time being. The general impression left on the reader by
this account is that no one was ever further removed from being a
Positivist than Comte.] G. Milhaud. ' La metaphysique aux Champs-
Elys^es.' [A dialogue between the spirits of Protagoras, Plato, Anselm,
Descartes, and Kant. The subject is the ontological proof of the existence
of God. The discussion is interesting, but not very edifying.] Cresson.
' Une morale materielle est-elle impossible ?' [All conation, in reaching its
end, ceases. Whatever therefore brings about permanently and finally the
cessation of Will, is the ultimate end of human existence. But a perfect
being, having all he is in need of, has no Will : therefore perfection is the
moral ideal.] Adam. ' Note sur le texte des " Regulae ad directionem
ingenii" de Descartes.' Analyses et comptes rendus.
No. 10. (Octobre, 1895.) L. Arr&it. 'Le "Parlement des religions."'
Ch. F6re". ' La physiologic dans les metaphores.' [Even in animals we find
gestures expressive of emotion which may be regarded as a kind of meta-
phor. In ordinary language words and phrases are current which refer to
the physiological concomitants of emotional states.] Dugas. 'Auguste
Comte : Etude critique et psychologique (Fin).' [Deals with the intellec-
tual and the emotional life of Comte. Aided by a retentive memory and
great power of logical arrangement, he amassed in his early youth all
the knowledge which he considered necessary as a basis for philosophising.
After this, he read no more : but devoted the rest of his life to unifying
the results of the special sciences, so as to make them fruitful in view of
human needs. In time, the exclusive devotion to theorising led to
vagueness and mysticism. The presentation of the sentimental aspect of
Comte's life consists mainly in an account of his relations with Madame
De Vaux.] Laupts et Henri. 'Esthe'tique et Astigmatisme.' Notes et
discussions. Revue ge'ne'rale, &c.
REVUE DE METAPHYSIQUE ET DE MORALE. 3 m * Anne"e. No. 5. G. Noel.
' La Logique de Hegel : La logique dans le Syste"me (suite).' [A thoroughly
Hegelian essay, in which the writer tries to vindicate Hegel against the
charges, often urged against him, of reasoning in vicious circles. The paper
well deserves study : but its closely woven argument does not admit of being
138 PHILOSOPHICAL PERIODICALS.
intelligibly presented in a short abstract. We quote the following to show the
essayist's standpoint. " The last word of the system is not the Idea in its
primitive abstraction : the last word is Mind the Idea which thinks itself in
thinking all things. It is in certain ways the vorja-is i>o?/<rea>s of Aristotle.
But there is this great difference between Hegel's Conception and that of
Aristotle, that this inner life of pure thought does not [for Hegel] exclude,
but rather contains and presupposes, the material world. It is in thinking
Nature, and because it thinks Nature, that the supreme Thought thinks
itself." (Surely Aristotle is here to be compared, not contrasted, with
Hegel) J M. Hauriou. ' L'alternance des Moyen-Ages et des Renaissances,
et ses Consequences Sociales.' [A study of two laws of periodic change in
the historical development of thought, which were overlooked by Comte,
and are, to some extent, in conflict with his famous generalisation of The
Three Stages.] L. Dimier. 'Le Modeld dans la peinture, et la troisieme
dimension (k propos des manuscrits de Leonard de Vinci).' Etudes Cri-
tiques. Discussions.
No. 6. H. Poincare". ' L'Espace et la Ge'ome'trie.' [A paper developing
a former sentence of the authoPs to the effect that other beings, with minds
and senses like ours, but without previous education, might receive from a
certain kind of external world impressions whereby they would be led to
construct a non-Euclidean geometry, and to localise the phenomena of their
external world in a non-Euclidean space, or even in a space of four dimen-
sions. We, if transferred suddenly to this new world, could, without
difficulty, accommodate its phenomena to our Euclidean notion of space. A
very ingenious paper whose main conclusion is, that, though experience
plays an indispensable role in the genesis of geometry, yet it would be an
error to infer that geometry is, even in part, an empirical science.]
L. Dugas. ' Psychologie du Nominalisme.' [This article is announced as
an extract from a book destined to appear in the Alcan Library, entitled Le
Psittacisme et la Pense'e Symbolique. " Abstraction is logical on these con-
ditions, but it remains to be seen whether these conditions can be fulfilled ;
in other words, whether abstraction is psychologically real." For purely
scientific concepts the words we use are wholly without images. "A science
is a well-constructed language " but this language has a meaning.] A. Spir.
'Nouvelles Esquisses de Philosophic Critique (suite), D\a Principe agis-
sant de la Nature. ' [" Force the power of producing effects is no property
of any individual object." " Nature has a side withdrawn from our percep-
tion, on which all the manifold diverse phenomena of perception are con-
nected, in other words, form an unity. This side that of Nature's Unity
is the active principle, the natura naturans, often erroneously confounded
with God, really nothing but Nature itself, so far as it has one side withdrawn
from perception." An article which shows how metaphysics will insist on
coming in, though one strive to keep it out ' with a pitchfork.'] Discussions.
Etudes Critiques.
PHILOSOPHISCHE STUDIEN. Bd. XL, Heft 4. F. C. C. Hansen und A.
Lehmann. 'Ueber unwillkiirliches Flustern.' [Experiments on thought-
transference. Proof that no new mode of energy, " radiation," is developed
in purporting transference of visual images from person to person. Suc-
cessful thought-transference depends upon involuntary whispering. Proof
of this directly, in experiments with and without suppression of vocal
innervation ; and indirectly, by a phonetic analysis of the whisper, and a
comparison of the confusions of word with word, occurring in the writer's
investigation and in results published by the S.P.R., with the confusions
to be expected upon phonetic principles. The carrying power and modes
of production of the unconscious whisper.] T. Heller. ' Studien zur
PHILOSOPHICAL PERIODICALS. 139
Blinden-Psychologie, Schluss.' [The association of ideas of touch and
hearing. The ' sense of distance ' of the blind. Surrogate ideas (Hitsch-
mann).] P. Mentz. ' Die Wirkung akustischer Sinnesreize auf Puls und
Athmung (Schluss).' [Voluntary attention. Experiments involving listening
to continuous compositions. Conclusion : the pulse changes observed are
not the result of respiratory changes ; the two series are parallel. It is
clear that the effects of sensations, feelings, emotions and voluntary atten-
tion are far more widely diffused in the organism than has ordinarily been
supposed. Need of further research in this sphere.] A. Thiery. ' LJeber
geometrisch-optische Tauschungen (Fortsetzung).' [Illusions of magnitude.
1. Illusions with equal figures cut by parallel transversals. 2. Illusions
with linear distances cut by convergent transversals.]
ZEITSCHRIFT FUR PHILOSOPHIE UND PHILOSOPHISCHE KRITIK. Bd. cvn.,
Heft 1. H. Siebeck. ' Platon als Kritiker aristotelischer Ansichten.' [A
highly interesting and important paper written from a new standpoint.
Siebeck proceeds upon the assumption that Aristotle before the close of his
twenty years' acquaintance with Plato published some criticisms of his master
to which the latter may be supposed to have replied. From this standpoint
the Parmenides is once more examined. Siebeck finds that its purpose is
to answer objections to Plato's Theory of Ideas which Aristotle had started
in early life, and published in an early work irepl 0tXoero$i'a?. These objec-
tions were afterwards transferred to the first book of the Metaphysics, where
they are now read by us. We are glad to see that Dr Siebeck makes use of
Mr Jackson's valuable papers on this subject in the Journal of Physiology :
he does not, however, seem to have read Mr Waddell's recently published
edition of the Parmenides.] P. van Ltnd. 'Immanuel Kant, und Alexander
von Humbolt.' [Concludes a series of papers^ chiefly physical and astrono-
mical, in which the position of Kant is examined and vindicated. The
writer believes the sage of Kb'nigsberg to have been the greatest of all
speculative or moral philosophers]. Dr Job. Hebinger. ' Die philosophischen
Schriften des Nikolaus Cusanus (III).' [Contains a long bibliographical
and general account of the works of this fifteenth-century writer " a great
Platonist, whose philosophic vision reaches back into the depths of venerable
antiquity, and forward into a boundless futurity."] Friedricb. Jodl. ' Jahres-
bericht iiber Erscheinungen der Anglo-Amerikan. Litteratur aus dem
Jahre 1893.' [Among authors whose works are reviewed are Leslie
Stephen of whom very complimentary words are used Calderwood, H.
Spencer, Lodge, Williams, MacDonald.] Recensionen &c.
VlERTELJAHRSSCHRIFT FUR WISSENSCHAFTLICHE PHILOSOPHIE. XIX.
Jahrgang, Heft 3. O. Helm. 'Ueber die Hertz'sche Mechanik.' [Hertz
eliminates the conception of force from the Newtonian mechanics, by
substituting for it in every case the geometrical conditions under which
movement takes place.] A. Marty. ' Ueber subjectlose Satze und das
Verhaltniss der Grammatik zu Logik und Psychologic (vn. Schluss}.'
[Having in a previous article expounded his view of the double judgment,
as consisting in (1) affirmation of the existence of a subject, and (2) ascrip-
tion to it of a predicate, Marty now proceeds to consider its grammatical
formulation. It finds appropriate expression in the categorical proposition.
Marty combats the view that the categorical proposition is primarily or
specially a statement of the relation between thing and property, or
substance and accident. He next discusses what he calls "categoroid"
judgments. These have categorical forms, but do not affirm the existence
of their subject. His examples include such propositions as "All equi-
lateral triangles are equiangular." This is, according to him, really a
140 PHILOSOPHICAL PERIODICALS.
negative judgment. It means there are no equilateral triangles which are
not equiangular. We cannot affirm an attribute of a subject without
affirming the existence of the subject. The remainder of the article is
occupied wjth an attempt to distinguish true im personals from propositions
which are impersonal only in grammatical form. The views of Erdmann
and Puls on this point are criticised.] Anzeigen &c.
PHILOSOPHISCHES JAHRBUCH. Bd. vm., Heft 3. Von Hertling. ' Ueber
Ziel und Methode der Rechtsphilosophie (continued).' [The writer con-
tinues his criticism of Merkel's Elemente der allgemeinen Rechtslehre,
especially in regard to his denial of the dependence of law on morality.]
L. ScMitz. 'Der hi. Thomas v. Aquin u. sein Verstandniss des Griechi-
schen.' [St Thomas had seen some books of Aristotle in Greek ; this does
not mean that he had read them. On the other hand, if his false Greek
etymologies proved anything, we might conclude a simili that he did not
know Latin. But we find in his works (1) wrong translations of familiar
Greek words (e.g. hebdomas=editio\); (2) words which are not even Greek
(e.g. epicacocharchia for f-mxai.peKaK.ia); and the number of such words
proves that he was ignorant of the language.] E. Rolfes. ' Die vorgebliche
Praexistenz des Geistes bei Aristoteles (concluded).' [A passage at the
end of Metaphys., ch. in., is a decisive denial of the pre-existence of the
soul.] J. Ueblnger. 'Die mathematischen Schriften des Nik. Cusanus.'
[This paper, at first biographical, follows Nicholas of Cusa step by step in
his studies at Padua and in his own country ; it then goes into a detailed
examination of his ideas. The most curious part is his application of
mathematics to theology. Some have represented God as an infinite
straight line, some as a triangle, some as a circle, some as a sphere ; he
says they are all of them right ; for, if a line were infinite, it would be a
circle, a triangle, and a sphere at the same time. And he proves it. (To
be continued).]
Heft 4. Von Hertling. ' Ueber Ziel und Methode der Rechtsphiloso-
phie (concluded).' [Human social life is based on the ethical idea of duty,
of which law merely carries out the dictates. Mere experience cannot
give binding force to law, for it cannot account for the binding power of
morality itself.] B. Adlhoch. ' Der Gottesbeweis des hi. Anselm (con-
tinued).' [St Anselm's demonstration of God's existence is conclusive as a
psychological, not as an ontological, proof. It is not an a priori, but an a
posteriori, or, at most, an a simultaneo process. We have the idea of the
Infinite ; if it did not really exist, we could not have that idea. With
other ideas this is not the case ; the existence which they imply may be
merely notional, not real. A discussion follows, in scholastic form,
refuting various arguments to the contrary.] Schanz. ' Der Parsismus
(concluded).' [In this second paper, there is a short account of the Parsee
cosmology, of its narrative of the Creation, the Fall and the Deluge, and
of the vague idea of the Trinity, the Incarnation, and the Atonement
which it contains ; also of its priesthood, temples, sacrifices, purifications,
and various ceremonies by which the whole life of a Parsee was and is
governed.] TJebinger. ' Die mathematischen Schrifteu des Nik. Cusanus
(continued).' [The writer here goes on to notice, not without a plentiful
sprinkling of biographical facts and dates, Nicholas of Cusa's investiga-
tions concerning the quadrature of the circle ; his criticism of Archimedes's
solution, and his attempt to solve the question by a method of his own.
His demonstration is given at length, together with a diagram. It did not
satisfy him, and the wider problem, ' how to find a straight line equal to
a given curve,' which he at first thought insoluble, gave rise to his great
work, De Geometricis Transmutationibus.]
PHILOSOPHICAL PERIODICALS. 141
ARCHIV PUB SYSTEMATISCHE PniLOSOPHiE. Band I., Heft 4. G. Frege.
' Kritische Beleuchtung einiger Punkte in E. Schroders Vorlesungen liber
die Algebra der Logik.' A. Spir. 'Wie gelangen wir zur Freiheit und
Harmonic des Denkens?' JAHRESBERICHT iiber die Erscheinungen auf
dem Gebiete der systematischen Philosophie : (I.) F. Jodl. 'Jahresbericht
iiber die Erscheinungen der Ethik aus dem Jahre 1895.' (II.) E. Ardlgo.
'Rassegna dei lavori di Filosofia sistematica pubblicati in Italia dal
gennajo 1893 al luglio 1894.' Bibliographie der philosophischen Litteratur
des Jahres 1894. Zeitschriften &c.
PFLUGER'S ARCHIV. F. D. GESAMMTE PHYSIOLOGIE. Bd. 57, Heft 10-11.
F. Matte. ' Experimenteller Beitrag zur Physiologie des Ohrlabyrinthes.'
J. Bernstein. ' Ueber die specifische Energie des Hornerven, die Wahr-
nehmung binauraler (diotischer) Scbwebungen, und die Beziehung der
Horfunktion zur statischen Funktion des Ohrlabyrinths.' W. A. Nagel.
* Experiinentelle sinnesphysiologische Untersuchungen an Coelenteraten.'
Bd. 58, Heft 5-6. L. Hermann and F. Matthias. ' Phonophotographische
Untersuchungen.' V. ' Die Curven der Consonanten.' With A. Eiirhardt.
VI. ' Nachtrag zur Untersuchung der Vocalcurven.'
Bd. 59, Heft 1-2. A. Bruck. ' Ueber die Beziehungen der Taubstumm-
heit zum sogenannten statischen Sinn.' Heft 5-6. J. R. Ewald. 'Zur
Physiologie des Labyrinths. III. Das Horen der labyrinthlosen Tauben.'
Heft 7-8. E. Bering. 'Ueber angebliche Blaublindheit der Fovea cen-
tralis.' W. A. Nagel. 'Der Sensibilitat der Conjunctiva und Cornea des
menschlichen Auges.' W. A. Nagel. ' Zur Priifung des Drucksinnes.'
Bd. 60, Heft 1-2. H. Pretori and M. Sachs. ' Messende Untersuchungen
des farbigen Simultancontrastes.' Heft 3-4. L. W. Stern. ' Taubstum-
mensprache und Bogengangsfunctionen.' J. R. Ewald and I. H. Hyde. 'Zur
Physiologie des Labyrinths.' IV. 'Die Beziehung des Grosshirns zum
Tonuslabyrinth.' J. Loeb. ' Ueber den Nachweis von Contrasterschein-
ungen im Gebiete der Raumempfindungen des Auges.' E. Hering. ' Ueber
das sogenannte Purkinje'sche Phanomen.' Heft 5-6. A. Eonig. 'Ein
kurzes Wort zur Entgegnung und Berichtigung.' [Against Hering, Bd. 59,
Heft 7-8.] A. Schapringer. ' Findet die Perception der verschiedenen
Farben nicht in ein und derselben Lage der Netzhaut statt ? ' Heft 9-10.
J. Loeb. 'Zur Physiologie und Psychologic der Actinien.' Heft 11-12.
F. Melde. ' Ueber " resultirende " Tone sowie einige hierbei gemachte
Erfahrungen.'
Bd. 61, Heft 1-3. E. Sauberschwarz. ' Interferenz-Versuche mit
Vocalklangen.' E. Hering. ' Ueber angebliche Blaublindheit der Zapfen-
Sehzellen.' J. Bernstein. ' Ueber das angebliche Hbren labyrinthloser
Tauben.' Heft 4-5. L. Hermann and H. Hirschfeld. ' Weitere Untersuch-
ungen iiber das Wesen der Vocale.' H. Strehl u. a. ' Beitrage zur
Physiologie des inneren Ohres.' Heft 6. W. Wundt. 'Zur Frage der
Horfahigkeit labyrinthloser Tauben.'
RIVISTA ITALIANA DI FILOSOFIA. March April. S. Ferrari. ' Rodolfo
Seydel e la sua opera postuma sulla Filosofia della Religione.' [Seydel was
chiefly interested in the Philosophy of Religion. His inspiration came
from C. Weisse. His own treatment of the subject followed closely
Kantian lines.] F. Cicchitti Suriani. ' La dottrina dell' Induzione secondo
un' opera recente del Prof. Benzoni.' M. Novaro. ' H concetto di infinite e
il problema cosmologico.' [Criticises the teaching of Kant, Leibnitz,
Locke, and others on this subject.] Bibliografia &c.
May June. C. Canton! 'Luigi Ferri.' [An obituary notice and eulogy.]
L. Credaro. ' Le basi della teorica Herbartiana dell' istruzione.' [A review
of Herbart's work on Theory of Education. It is claimed for him that he
was the first who clearly emphasised the importance of educational training
PHILOSOPHICAL PERIODICALS.
as distinguished from mere communication of knowledge.] S. Ferrari.
' Rodolfo Seydel e la sua opera postuma sulla Filosofia della Religione. (II).'
M. Novaro. ' II concetto di infinite e il problema cosmologico.' Biblio-
grafia &c.
VOPROSY FILOSOFH i PsYCHOLOGii. May, 1895. W. A. Wagner. 'On
Music, its origin and development.' [Music as an art could not have been
developed before articulate language. Now, its development proceeds
neither from sexual nor natural selection ; this is proved in many ways,
but chiefly by the low condition of music among modern savage tribes.
Its evolution has been simultaneous with civilisation.] A. A. Kozloff. 'Tol-
stoi's "Master and Man".' W. S. Solovieff. 'On Virtue.' [The three
fundamental elements of morality (shame, mercy, and religious feeling),
may be considered as virtues, and, consequently, as rules of conduct, and
productive of happiness. All the other so-called virtues are virtues only
in so far as they harmonise with these three elements. Here the author
analyses the cardinal, the theological, and other virtues successively to
prove his point.] L. M. Lopatin. ' A Parallelistic theory of psychical life.'
[Advocates theory of Parallelism between psychical and physiological
process ; but denies that it is complete.] V. Henri. ' On the present state
of experimental Psychology.' [A short sketch of the origin and progress
of this science is followed by a summary of its methods, with details of
the various experiments, their results, their classification, and the influence
of different mental conditions on these results ; and, in conclusion, many
questions are noted which have as yet not been investigated.] P. N. Arda-
sheff. ' The Psychology of History.' [Reviewing M. Le Bon's work, Les
lois psychologiques de devolution des peupleg, M. Ardasheff, commending
him for reducing historical to psychological processes, criticises his over-
estimation of racial, to the detriment of individual factors.] M. I. KarlnsM.
' The Real and the Imaginary Kant.' [A paper which closes his contro-
versy with M. Vvedenski on this subject.]
September, 1895. M. Korelin. 'An Ethical Tractate by Lorenzo
Valla.' [An analysis of the work of the celebrated humanist, which was
published at Padua in 1831. It was cast in the form of a dialogue between
Leonardo Bruno, Beccadelli, and Niccolo Niccoli, and contains a full
exposition of Valla's ethical convictions. Bruno, an adherent of Stoicism,
expounds that view in the first part. In the second, Beccadelli upholds
absolute Hedonism, in the third, Asceticism is maintained by Niccoli. At
the close, Tartarini, one of the company, sums up, examining the various
arguments, and visibly leaning towards Beccadelli's point of view. The
paper goes on to investigate the literary and scientific value of the
treatise.] A. Kozloff. ' God, as felt and as known ; a return to the Ontologi-
cal proof of God's existence.' [Between the feeling of God, and the know-
ledge that He exists, there is a passage ; but the difference is merely
quantitative. God's reality is at once the highest and the most immediate
of feelings. Space and time can by no means come into the definition of
this idea. We are best enabled to form a notion of God's characteristics,
by what we feel of our own substantial individuality and attributes.] M.
Solovieff. 'On the physical factors of right conduct.' [A criticism of
Utilitarianism.] Trubetskoy. ' Ethics and Dogmatism.' [This paper is a
critical examination of Hatch and Harnack's views as regards the relations
between Christianity and Hellenism. The principle and the end of
Christianity are contained in the doctrines of the Incarnation and of the
Resurrection. Neither of these doctrines can receive a historical explana-
tion, as originating in a development of Hellenic thought. The Nicean
Creed is not a product of the Greek mind. Primitive Christianity and
the Nicean Creed have the same religious foundation and origin.]
X. NOTES.
THE THIRD INTERNATIONAL CONGRESS OF
PSYCHOLOGY.
THE third meeting of the Congress will be held at Munich, from August
4th to 7th, 1896. The president will be Prof. Dr Stumpf, the vice-
president Prof. Dr Lipps, and the general secretary Dr Frhr. von Schrenck-
Notzing. The list of members of the International Committee of
Organisation includes the names of many well-known psychologists from
England, Scotland, France, Germany, Belgium, Switzerland, Russia,
Denmark, and America.
" All Psychologists and all educated persons who desire to further the
progress of Psychology and to foster personal relations among the students
of Psychology in different nations are Invited to take part in the meetings
of the Congress."
On receipt of the subscription money (15$.) a card will be sent to every
member entitling him to attend all meetings and festivities, and to receive
the daily journal Tageblatt, and one copy of the Report of the Congress.
The languages used at the Congress may be German, French, English,
and Italian. The meetings will take place at the Royal University.
The length of the papers or addresses is limited to 20 minutes, and a
short abstract of their contents should be sent to the Secretary before the
beginning of the Congress, for distribution among the audience.
Psychologists who intend to offer papers or addresses at the Congress
should state the subjects of their communications and send written
abstracts of them to the Secretary's office (Munich, Max-Josephstr. 2)
before May 15th, 1896.
Lodgings should be secured in advance, as the Munich hotels are
generally crowded in the beginning of August.
Information about hotels, pensions and private lodgings will be given
to members of the Congress at the office of the " Verein zur Fb'rderung des
Fremden verkehrs. "
The Secretary's office will be at the Royal University (Ludwigstrasse
17) during the Congress, from August 3rd onward.
The programme of work is as follows :
I. Psychophysiology.
(Prof. Rudinger, Prof. Graetz, and Privatdocent Dr Cremer will give
all information concerning this part of the programme.)
A. ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY of the brain and of the sense-organs
(somatic basis of psychical life).
Development of nerve-centres ; theory of localisation and of neurons,
paths of association and structure of the brain.
Psychical functions of the central parts ; reflexes, automatism, inner-
vation, specific energies.
B. PSYCHOPHYSICS. Connexion between physical and psychical pro-
cesses; psychophysical methods; the law of Fechner. Physiology
of the senses (muscular and cutaneous sensibility, audition, light-
perception, audition colorde) ; psychical effects of certain agents
(medicines). Reaction-times. Measurement of vegetative reactions
(inspiration, pulse, muscle-fatigue).
144 NOTES.
n. Psychology of the normal individual
(Prof. Lipps, Privatdocent Dr Cornelius, and Dr Weinmann will give
all information concerning this part of the programme.)
Scope, methods and resources of Psychology. Observation and experi-
ment. Psychology of sensations. Sensation and idea, memory
and reproduction. Laws of association, fusion of ideas. Con-
sciousness and unconsciousness, attention, habit, expectation,
exercise. Perception of space (by sight, by touch, by the other
senses) ; consciousness of depth-dimension, optical illusions. Per-
ception of time.
Theory of knowledge. Imagination. Theory of feeling. Feeling and
sensation. Sensual, aesthetical, ethical and logical feeling. Emo-
tions. Laws of feeling. Theory of will. Feeling of willing and
voluntary action. Expressive movements. Facts of ethics. Self-
consciousness. Development of personality. Individual differ-
ences.
Hypnotism, theory of suggestion, normal sleep, dreams. Psychical
automatism. Suggestion in relation to paedagogics and crimin-
ality ; paedagogical psychology.
III. Psychopathology.
(Prof. Dr Grashey, Dr Frhr. v. Schrenck-Notzing, and Edm. Parish will
give all information on this part of the programme.)
Heredity in Psychopathology ; Statistics. Can acquired qualities be
transferred by inheritance ? Psychical relations (somatic and
psychic heredity), phenomena of degeneration, psychopathic in-
feriority (insane temperament). Genius and degeneration ; moral
and social importance of heredity.
Psychology in relation to criminality and jurisprudence.
Psychopathology of the sexual sensations.
Functional nerve-disease (hysteria and epilepsy).
Alternating consciousness; psychical infection; the pathological side of
hypnotism ; pathological states of sleep.
Psychotherapy and suggestive treatment.
Cognate phenomena: mental suggestion, telepathy, transposition of
senses; international statistics of hallucinations.
Hallucinations and illusions ; imperative ideas, aphasia and similar patho-
logical phenomena.
IV. Comparative Psychology.
(Prof. Dr Ranke, Dr G. Hirth, and Dr Fogt will give all information
in this department.)
Moral-statistics.
The psychical life of the child.
The psychical functions of animals.
Ethnographical and anthropological psychology.
Comparative psychology of languages ; graphology.
Those who desire further information should apply to Prof. Sidgwick,
Newnham College, Cambridge, or to Prof. Sully, 1, Portland Villas, East
Heath Road, Hampstead, N.W.
Cambridge : Printed at the University Press.
NEW SERIES. No. 18.] [APRIL, 1896.
MIND
A QUAETERLY EEVIEW
OF
PSYCHOLOGY AND PHILOSOPHY.
I. THE CONCEPTION OF IMMORTALITY IN
SPINOZA'S ETHICS 1 .
BY A. E. TAYLOR.
WE shall find it convenient, in examining the vexed problem of
Spinoza's doctrine of the eternity of the mind, to take as our
starting-point the brief abstract of his views given in the
" Short Treatise of God and Man," which, in all essentials,
anticipates the fuller discussion of the Ethics. What we are
there told (see especially Korte Verhandeling, n. 23) amounts
to this. The " soul " is an Idea in the " thinking thing " which
corresponds to the existence of some object in " Nature," or
as Spinoza would have said at a later stage of his thought the
mind is an Idea in " God " corresponding to and bound up with
the presence in Him of a particular modification of the attribute
of extension. Consequently, the continued existence of the
soul depends in the first instance on the continued existence
of the thing or body of which it is, in Spinozistic language,
the "Idea"; and it would seem to follow at once that any
disturbance of that proper balance of motion and rest which,
according to Spinoza, constitutes the identity of a human body
sufficiently extensive to put an end to the existence of a human
organism, as such, must also terminate once for all the existence
of the corresponding soul. With the transformation of the
elements which have hitherto combined to form a human
1 Read (in substance) before the Society of Historical Theology, Oxford,
Feb. 6, 1896.
M. 10
146 A. E. TAYLOR :
body into some fresh form of extended existence there must
necessarily be conjoined the transmutation of the corresponding
" Idea in the thinking thing," which has till now been the
"soul" of that body, into some new and non-human shape
answering to the change in the body. From this general doom
of death, however, Spinoza ' indicates a way of at least partial
escape which is open to all who think fit to avail themselves
of it. That way of escape is no other than the love of God
which arises from true and adequate knowledge. For, with
increasing understanding of the nature of God or, what for
the Spinozist is the same, of the Universe and of our own place
in it comes a truer sense of the relative value of things, and
a growing freedom from the impotent passions and irrational
aims and purposes of the natural man. To understand the
order of the Universe aright means to acquiesce in it ; to know
our own place in it and to estimate rightly our own powers is
to be freed from the alternating tyranny of vain hopes and
foolish despondencies, and so to be, as far as a man may, happy.
Hence Spinoza can maintain that it is by means of true and
adequate ideas of the world and of ourselves and the moral
freedom they bring in their train that it is possible for the soul
to contract a union with God which is no less indissoluble than
its original union with that particular mode of extension that
we call its body. And so, we learn in the " Short Treatise," while
the soul, in so far as its existence depends on that of the body,
shares the mortality of the latter, yet in the degree in which it
is also at the same time " united with " God who is eternal and
unchangeable, it shares His permanence and immutability. In
the above resume of Spinoza's doctrine as it appears in the
" Short Treatise " we may specially notice the following salient
points, all of which will meet us again in the Ethics.
(1) The union of the soul with God and its consequent
deathlessness in no way interfere with the rigid parallelism of
soul and body which requires that in some sense both shall be
alike mortal.
(2) The deathlessness asserted by Spinoza, whatever its
precise nature, is treated throughout as a kind of life to be
entered on and enjoyed here and now, not as something for
which we must wait till death or the next world.
(3) It is not conceived of, as in the current belief of
Christianity, as equally and originally inherent in all mankind ;
it has to be acquired by each man for himself, and may be
acquired by different men in very varying degrees.
(4) The way to obtain this "Immortality" (pnsterfelijkheid)
is the formation of true and adequate Ideas.
For a fuller statement of these doctrines and a more detailed
THE CONCEPTION OF IMMORTALITY IN SPINOZA'S ETHICS. 147
account of the immortality here promised we must now turn to
the text of the Ethics. And in doing so we shall at once be struck
by a change in terminology which is probably, as Martineau
has remarked, significant. In the Cogitata Metaphysica Spinoza
had spoken, in accordance with ordinary usage, of the proofs of
our immortality, and throughout the " Short Treatise " we find
him using similar language (de Ziele, Onsterfelijkheid). In
the Ethics both words have finally disappeared, and we now
hear only of the mind and the mind's eternity. It is just
possible that the use of mens rather than the more familiar
aniriM may have no special importance. Spinoza prefers, even
in the Cogitata, to talk of the mind rather than the soul 1 , and
though the Dutch version in which the " Short Treatise " has
come down to us reverses this usage, the change may, of course,
be due to the translator. But there can be little doubt that
the substitution of " eternity " for " immortality " indicates a
conscious endeavour to avoid misleading associations. For the
eternity of the human mind as set forth in Spinoza's Ethics is,
as we shall see, something very different from what is ordinarily
understood by the phrase " immortality of the soul." Our first
step towards forming a positive conception of what it is will
naturally be to define our terms. We must ask, first, what
sense we are to put on the words "eternity," "eternal," and
next, what we are to understand by the human mind.
A. Eternal, eternity. Spinoza is careful to warn us that
we must not fall into the vulgar error of confusing eternity
with indefinite duration. Duration is indeed the direct anti-
thesis to eternity. The account of the latter, as given in the
eighth definition of the first part of the Ethics, reads as follows.
" By eternity I understand existence itself in so far as it is
thought of as necessarily following from the mere definition of
the eternal thing" (quatenus ex sola rei aetemae definitione
necessario sequi condpitur) ; and we are further told in a
footnote to this definition that " such existence, as for instance
that of the essence of a thing, is thought of as an eternal
truth, and consequently cannot be explained in terms of time or
duration, even if that duration be conceived of as unbounded in
both directions." Eternity is thus for Spinoza identical with
scientific necessity, and to think of a thing as " eternal " is
to perceive it, not as an inexplicable and isolated event or
phenomenon, but in its various intelligible relations to the rest
of the Universe as an integral and indispensable factor in the
whole. It is in this sense that God (i. 19) and each of the
" attributes " of God are said to be eternal. For God or the
1 But for the use of " anima" cf. Cog. Met. n. 12 animam immortalem
esse ex legibus naturae clare sequitur.
102
148 A. E. TAYLOR:
Universe, is the causa sui, the self-existent whole whose supreme
reality is the ground and source of all subordinate and derived
existence. Again, each of the attributes of God taken singly
is eternal. This follows easily enough from the definition of an
attribute (i. def. 4) as that which for the perception of the
intellect constitutes the essence of a substance. Extension and
thought to take the two attributes which alone are known to
us are eternal, not because, so far as we can tell, both have
existed and will exist through an indefinite period of time, but
because they are, so to speak, ultimate and irreducible terms
in our apprehension of the Universe ; (cf. the already quoted
definition of "attributum") factors in Reality into which
everything else can be resolved, but which cannot themselves
be explained in terms of any kind of being still more simple
and more universal. (In Spinozistic phrase each of them is
infinite in suo genere.) Their " eternity " is only another name
for the double fact that everything else can be resolved into
some combination of modifications of them, while they them-
selves cannot be resolved into anything else, in short, for the
necessity we are under of falling back upon them and their
characteristic properties as our sole basis of explanation when
we would explain anything whatever. We further learn (i. 21,
22) that not only the divine attributes themselves, that is, the
ultimate irreducible terms, be they what they may, to which
the understanding can trace the contents of the world (fades
totius universi), and of which we only know the two already
specified, thought and extension, but also any modification of
an attribute, the existence of which can be either directly (i. 21)
or mediately (i. 22) demonstrated from the general character
(absoluta natura) of that attribute, may be called eternal. In a
word, eternity is for Spinoza, as I have already said, practically
equivalent to rational necessity, and to exhibit scientifically
the systematic relations in which any aspect of reality stands
to other aspects and to the whole system is to establish its
eternity. All this becomes if possible even clearer when read
in connection with the epistemology of the second part of the
Ethics, particularly with the famous Spinozistic conception of
the knowledge of things " stib specie aeternitatis." The way
in which this conception is originally introduced is especially
instructive. By proposition II. 44 we are taught that it is
characteristic of reason (de natura rationis) to look on every-
thing as necessary, not as contingent, and the second corollary
to the proposition runs " de natura ratioms est res sub quadani
aeternitatis specie percipere." The proof of this is derived
from the preceding proposition by the simple expedient of
substituting " eternity " for " necessity " as an equivalent term.
THE CONCEPTION OF IMMORTALITY IN SPINOZA'S ETHICS. 149
How natural and easy such a substitution is one expression
which occurs in the course of this demonstration will shew.
In speaking of certain universal properties of things which,
as he holds, cannot be thought of other than adequately,
Spinoza says that they are conceived " absque ulla temporis
relatione," and consequently "sub quadam aeternitatis specie"
The contrast is evidently between such loose personal recollec-
tions as make up the content of the average uninstructed man's
thinking and the systematic and orderly knowledge of the man
of science. For the former each object or phenomenon in
nature derives its interest and its place in the body of thought
mainly from accidental associations with particular moments of
his own experience ; in the codified thought of the latter time,
as a factor in the universal judgment, has disappeared. Thus a
thunderstorm, to take a simple example, reminds the average
man of " that terrific storm of three years ago when Mr A's
house was struck ;" to the scientific mind on the other hand
it suggests a series of propositions about the nature and
behaviour of electricity with which the temporal relations of
before and after, as such, have nothing to do. A typical and
familiar case of this knowledge "under the form of eternity"
may perhaps be said to be that of pure mathematics as a body
of truths whose universal and abiding validity is entirely inde-
pendent of any considerations of time. And thus Spinoza's
appropriation of the term "eternity" to denote rational necessity
furnishes at once an interesting parallel with the language of
the Posterior Analytics and a brilliant anticipation of one of
the most characteristic doctrines of modern scientific logic.
(Cf. e.g. Bosanquet, Logic, I. 273. "The order of succession...
disappears in the significance of a positive systematic connec-
tion." "Time... is not a form which profoundly exhibits the
unity of things.")
To this account of eternity I will only append two remarks,
to the first of which I would invite special attention, as a
due apprehension of it is absolutely essential to the correct
understanding of Spinoza's view.
(1) We cannot too carefully lay it down that, though for
Spinoza duration is no part of the definition of eternity and
cannot of itself constitute it, yet eternity does and must entail
as a consequence some kind of endless duration. The proof
that this is so for Spinoza is afforded by numerous passages
scattered up and down his writings, of which I will here quote
only sufficient to establish the general principle, leaving for
future consideration those sentences in Ethics, Part V. which
directly assert its application to the human mind. To begin
with then, we read at the end of the " Short Treatise " in set
150 A. E. TAYLOR:
terms of the proof of the " eternal and permanent duration of
our understanding " (" gelijk wy hier ook mede, en dat op een
and ere wijze als te vooren, hebben bewezen de eewwige en
bestandige duuring van ons verstand." Korte Verhandeling , II.
26 ad fin.) Again in a proposition (I. 21) of the Ethics of
which we have already made some use we are told of the
modifications which can be deduced ex absoluta natura alicuius
attributi Dei not only that they are "eternal" but also that
they have always of necessity existed (semper existere de-
buerunt), with which we may compare the statement in Cogitata
Metaphysica, I. 4, that duration a tota alicuius rei existentia non
nisi ratione distinguitur. That some eminent critics of Spinoza
(e.g. Martineau) have overlooked this important point is pro-
bably due to their transferring to duration the language which
Spinoza uses of time. But we cannot too strongly insist on the
persistence with which he distinguishes the two conceptions.
It is not duration, as such, but time of which he says in Cogitat.
Met. I. 4 that it is a merus modus cogitandi ; it is relation not
to duration, but to time, which is in the Ethics the distinguishing
characteristic of imperfect thought 1 . So in the important letter
which appears as no. 36 in the Land and Van Vloten edition of
Spinoza, duration is recognised as a quality of extended things
the defect or brevity of which constitutes a form of imperfection,
" extensio solummodo respectu durationis, situs, quantitatis, im-
perfecta dici potest; nimirum quia non durat longius. quia suum
non retinet situm, vel quia maior non evadit." And in the no
less important letter to Ludwig Meyer (Land and Van Vloten,
12) we find a distinction clearly drawn between duration itself
and the conception of it considered in abstraction a modo quo
a rebus aeternis fluit. Thus abstractly considered duration
becomes time, just as quantity considered in abstraction from
substance becomes abstract number ; and it is not quantity or
duration themselves which are for Spinoza unrealities, but the
false or abstract conceptions of the one as mere number and the
other as mere lapse of time. Duration itself, like quantity, is
a "substantial modus" that is, a real quality or property of
things : what is arbitrary and unreal (ens rationis seu imagina-
tionis) is apparently the conception of real duration as made
up of moments (ubi quis durationem abstracte conceperit eamque
cum tempore. confundendo in paries dividere inceperit etc.) and,
I suppose also, the arbitrary selection of one of these moments
as a present or starting-point from which to reckon in opposed
directions. So that Spinoza's view of duration seems to answer
to his well-known view of extension, according to which it is
1 For the indication of the two following passages I am indebted to
Mr F. H. Dale of Merton College ; I gladly acknowledge the debt.
THE CONCEPTION OF IMMORTALITY IN SPINOZA'S ETHICS. 151
not the extended, but the abstract conception of extension as
composed of discrete parts which is unreal (see Ethics, I. 15,
Scholium). And the connection of eternity with duration can
be further upheld by general metaphysical considerations. For
it is abundantly clear that, while mere persistence cannot prove
necessity, that which does not succeed in persisting somehow
has not established its claim to be regarded as necessary. And
if it be said that in the end everything is necessary, no matter
how transient its existence, it is equally true that in the
end, under strange disguises and marvellous transformations,
everything persists.
(2) The second remark we have to make is that in the last
resort nothing is absolutely eternal in its own right except God
or the Universe itself. For by I. 24 a proposition of which I
need not supply the proof " the essence of the things created
by God (a Deo productarum) does not necessitate their exist-
ence" (non involvit existentiam). Their essence as following
from and illustrating certain general laws is a necessary truth
(I. def. 8), their existence is not.
B. The Human Mind. The Human Mind (Ethics, II.
Axiom 1) falls under this head of res a Deo productae, and any
given individual may consequently have a beginning or end of
existence. (Ex naturae ordine tarn fieri potest ut hie et ille homo
existat quam ut non existat.) There is, indeed, a sense (n. 8)
in which the Idea, or modification of the attribute of thought,
which constitutes the individual's mind, may be said to be
existent in God before the individual as such has begun to be,
but only in the same way in which the corresponding mode of
extension, which we know as the individual's body, may be said
to be already contained in the attribute of extension, or to
simplify Spinoza's geometrical illustration a little as each of
an indefinite number of diameters may be said to be contained
in a given circle before any one of them has been actually
drawn (n. 8, Schol.). The actual existence of the individual
mind as such (il. 11) depends on and begins with that of the
corresponding body. For it is part of Spinoza's characteristic
doctrine of parallelism that along with the formation of any
new modification of extension, or of any other attribute of God,
there must always go a corresponding modification of the
attribute of thought, or as he otherwise calls it an Idea in
God of the former modification. Every extended thing is
consequently said (il. 13, Schol.) to be, in its own degree,
animate, and the prerogative of the Human Mind over the
' minds ' of other things consists only in (1) the superior organi-
sation of the body which it inhabits, and (2) consequently, as
we shall see, in its greater capability of adequate thinking. We
152 A. E. TAYLOR:
may say, then, (1) (Prop. 11) that the actual existence of an
individual human mind, as such, depends primarily on, and
consists in, the presence in God of an idea corresponding to
some individual thing, that is, some particular modification of
one of His other attributes, and (2) (Prop. 13) that the particular
thing in question is that particular mode of extension which
constitutes the human body. From this it will further follow,
(1) that the more readily a body responds to and reacts on
stimuli of every kind, the more easily will the corresponding
mind receive and retain perceptions of every kind (Prop. 14),
and also (2) that (n. 17 and II. 26) the original perceptions of
the human mind indicate rather the effects produced on its
body by other things than the veritable nature of those things
themselves as they are " in reality " or " in God." Thus, to take
Spinoza's own example, Paul's idea of Peter throws more light
on the workings of Paul's psychical and physical organism than
on the real character of Peter. Or, if one may be allowed to
stoop to an illustration which is perhaps a little ridiculous, the
views of a ' Primrose Dame ' on the character of Mr Gladstone
are more important for our estimate of the lady than of the
statesman. It also follows (3) that things will group them-
selves, for the intellect "unpurified by science," not so much
according to the systematic causal and other relations which
they bear to one another in virtue of their quality, and the
places they fill in the general scheme of the world, as according
to the external, and if I may use a slightly inaccurate but
highly convenient expression accidental conjunctions in which
they have been presented to the individual in the course of his
personal experience. Thus the content of his mind will be, in
the main, a body of fortuitous associations and personal re-
miniscences in which the real character of the things involved
only here and there succeeds in shimmering through the clouds
of blind prejudice and hazy recollection. This loose conglome-
ration of disconnected or mistakenly connected observations
grouped for the most part according to the order in time of the
individual's experiences Spinoza regards as the lowest and
most imperfect grade in human thinking. He commonly calls
it "imagination," and hardly ever mentions it without a re-
ference to "memoria" personal reminiscences as its basis.
At the opposite pole stands that true and intuitive perception
of the scientific relations of phenomena and their position in
the general order of things which is variously called by Spinoza
" the third kind of knowledge," " the knowledge of things under
the form of eternity," "the complete agreement of the Idea
with its ideatum," "the knowledge of things as they are in
themselves," or "in God." Into the details of Spinoza's well-
THE CONCEPTION OF IMMORTALITY IN SPINOZA'S ETHICS. 153
known and important theory of the three (or, following the
" Tractatus de Intellectus Emendatione," the four) degrees of
knowledge space and the scope of this paper will not allow me
to enter. I will therefore only add one or two remarks on the
special characteristics of the highest form of knowledge which
may throw some light on the passage from the " Short Treatise "
with which the present essay opened, as well as on the propo-
sitions from the Fifth Part of the Ethics which we shall directly
have to examine. We may then just note in passing (1) that
the possession of a true or adequate idea that is, of knowledge
of the second or third kind is always accompanied by the
consciousness of its adequacy : qui veram habet ideam simul scit
se veram habere ideam (n. 42), a point to which we shall have
to come back. (2) The highest and most adequate form of
knowledge i.e. knowledge of the third kind is concrete and
intuitive. It consists not in the mere apprehension of abstract
general principles, knowledge of the second kind ; that, though
also in its way both " true " and " adequate," stands altogether
on a lower footing. Thus to take an example the ideal of
knowledge is only very imperfectly realised in the apprehension
of the abstract truth of the Uniformity of Nature, or, let us say,
the Omnipresence of Evolution. Our knowledge only becomes
fully "adequate" or "eternal" when we perceive how each
particular department of reality sustains its place in the
general scheme, or falls into line with the whole. So again
it is not knowledge of the Human Mind " under the form of
eternity" to realise merely that it somehow, like everything
else, is dependent on and related to God ; we must be able to
see, as the concluding propositions of the Ethics will endeavour
to make us see, just what the relation is, and in consequence,
just what is the real place and significance of our mind in the
Universe.
(3) The contrast between the mind possessed of "ade-
quate " ideas and the mind which remains in the half-lights of
imagination will give us by anticipation some insight into the
meaning of that "Union with God" which we met in the
extract from the " Short Treatise " and shall meet again in the
Fifth Part of the Ethics. One might at first be inclined to
suspect inconsistency in a philosophy which begins by deriving
the human mind, as well as everything else, as a necessary
consequence from the nature of the divine attributes, and then
goes on to speak of a " Union with God," peculiar to the mind,
which one man may attain more completely than another,
The difficulty vanishes, however, when we reflect on the nature
of an adequate Idea and on the self-consciousness which, as we
have seen, always accompanies it. It is true that everything
154 A. E. TAYLOR:
and everybody is, in some way, a part of God ; but the majority
of things and of men are quite unconscious of their high dignity.
Spinoza would hardly have gone more than half-way with
Shelley (Epipsychidion, 128) in his famous saying about "the
spirit of the worm beneath the sod." The thinker of adequate
Ideas under the form of eternity, on the other hand, sees things
" as they are in God " ; he rethinks Ideas which may be said to
form an integral part and parcel of the eternal "intellectus
infinitus Dei" and in doing so is fully alive to the fact that he
is doing so. Thus, while the ordinary man may be said to be
the unconscious and poverty-stricken heir to an unoccupied
estate, the man of true and adequate thoughts is in the
position of the heir who has come into actual possession and
fruition of his own. There are, no doubt, difficulties which
may be raised about the consistency of this account with some
of Spinoza's other statements about the intellectus Dei, and one
of these difficulties we shall have directly to face, but on the
whole the above exposition seems fairly to represent the
meaning of his language about Union with God.
On the ethical effects of adequate thinking as the source of
freedom from the domination of the passions and consequent
happiness there is no need for me to dwell here. Important as
those results are, they are, as such, confined to this life and
concern the soul only in so far as it is considered in connection
with the body. For my purpose which is to examine the
theory of the " duration of the Mind out of relation to the body "
the main results of Ethics, Parts III. and IV., may be taken
pretty much for granted. I will therefore pass without further
delay to the group of propositions in Part V. where the mind's
eternity is affirmed and established in detail. These pro-
positions (v. 21-v. 41) form a section by themselves in
Spinoza's work, and present, perhaps, more difficulty than any
other part of the treatise. Space alone to say nothing of
other limitations will prevent my doing more now than
indicating in a rather general way what I take to be the
purport of them. In doing this there are two opposing views,
against both of which I have something to urge. The first of
these views is that which sees in these propositions something
like a promise of what is ordinarily understood by conscious
personal immortality. Though this view has in the past been
held by competent authorities, it has, I think, been finally
disposed of by the investigations of Martineau and Pollock. If
any direct refutation is needed from me, it should be enough
to refer to the whole tenor of Spinoza's thought in general, and,
in particular, to Prop. V. 21, by which "imagination" and
memory are shewn to be possible only so long as the body
THE CONCEPTION OF IMMORTALITY IN SPINOZA'S ETHICS. 155
continues in existence. This is, indeed, no more than we could
have inferred for ourselves from the contrast already established
between imagination and memory, which contemplate things
and events " cum relatione ad tempus," and adequate scientific
thought, for which things appear as they are, "sine ulla
temporis relatione." But without imagination and without the
least vestige of personal recollection, how much individuality is
left ? And when we further add Prop. v. 34, by which it is
shewn that all emotions other than the eternal ' intellectual love
of God ' also cease with the body, it becomes abundantly clear
that, whatever survives of us after death, all that now makes
personal character or idiosyncrasy and distinguishes one man
from another has vanished. Hence it is not surprising that
able critics have gone to the other extreme and constructed a
theory of Spinoza's meaning on the assumption that his
" eternity of the mind " has nothing at all to do with any kind
of continued existence after death. From their point of view,
the strongest emphasis must be attached to the passages which
dwell on the difference which they commonly exaggerate, as I
have already pointed out, between eternity and duration, and
the difference between the man of adequate and the man of
imperfect ideas will consist entirely in the qualitative super-
iority of the one over the other, while his life lasts. I
propose, however, to shew that this view also, though nearer the
truth than the former, yet overshoots the mark. While it is
most indubitably true that the essential and fundamental
characteristic of the " eternal " life, with Spinoza, is its quality,
yet there is abundant evidence that its attainment somehow
entails consequences as to the duration of the mind after death.
For, not to recur to the general connection which I believe I
have established between eternity and duration, we may note
(1) that more than one reference is made to the effect of
adequate thinking as freeing us from the fear of death (cf. IV.
67) Homo vere Iwer nulla de re minus quam de morte cogitat.
v. 38, quo plures res secundo et tertio cognitionis genere Mens
intelligit...eo mortem minus timet. (2) Further, the language
with which Spinoza introduces the section on the Mind's
eternity, tempus est...ut ad ilia transeam quae ad Mentis
durationem sine relatione ad Corpus pertinent, and his repeated
use of the word "remanere" in this connection either mean
continued duration of some sort, or they mean nothing. What
this language actually means and what it does not we may now
learn from a brief survey of the chief propositions on the
subject in the order of their occurrence. To begin with then,
Prop. 21, by which memory and imagination are excluded from
continuance after the death of the body, by itself, as we have
156 A. E. TAYLOR :
already seen, proves that Spinoza cannot be thinking of any-
thing that can properly be called "personal" immortality.
Prop. 22 takes us a little way, though only a little way, towards
a positive conception of his meaning. " Still," he says, " there is
necessarily in God an idea which expresses the essence of this
and that man's body under the form of eternity." The proof of
this is as follows. The essence of the individual's body is a
necessary consequence of the nature of God ; the body must
therefore of necessity be conceived of, if it is to be adequately
conceived of, "per ipsam Dei essentiam." There will therefore,
in accordance with the doctrine of the parallelism between the
divine attributes, necessarily exist in God, in so far as He is
conceived of under the attribute of thought, an Idea which
expresses the essence of the individual's body as indeed there
will be a similar Idea of everything else which follows from
His nature. (See Ethics, u. 8.) That is, in other words, every-
thing, when conceived of as a necessary element in the Universe
as a whole, is, in that relation, eternal, and the human mind is
no exception. (Compare Green, Works, Vol. in. p. 159, Frag-
ment on Immortality.) In Prop. 23 with its important
scholium we come to the special application of this important
doctrine to the case of the mind. " The human mind cannot
be entirely destroyed with the body, but something of it
remains which is eternal." For the Idea which is eternally
present in God of the essence of the human body is just what,
on Spinozistic principles, constitutes the special and peculiar
essence of the human mind. Thus, even after death, there still
remains something "in God" which belongs to the inmost
essence of the individual human mind ; and, as no finite
duration (duratio quae tempore definiri potest) can be attributed
to the Mind except in so far as it is actually conjoined with the
body and consequently subject to the category of time, this
" something " must be thought of, not under the form of time or
duration, but, since it represents a necessary ingredient in the
nature of God, as something eternal. So that, in some sense or
other, there is about every man something deathless and
eternal. But this demonstration still leaves the two most
important questions which this subject gives rise to without an
answer. We still want to know (1) how far we can attribute
to the Mind an eternity which cannot with equal reason be
asserted of the body, or of any other thing ; (2) exactly what
the aliquid aeternum which survives after our death must be
taken to be.
(1) The answer to the first question is already indicated
by the most important note which is appended as a scholium to
our proposition. Briefly stated, it is this. The special and
THE CONCEPTION OF IMMORTALITY IN SPINOZA'S ETHICS. 157
peculiar prerogative of the human mind over all other things
is that it alone can know and enjoy its own deathlessness.
Other things, no doubt (i. 21, I. 22, compared with I. 15), as
following of necessity from the attributes of God, or if we
prefer to express ourselves otherwise as necessary " stages " in
the world-process, are equally eternal, but their eternity is
unknown to and unenjoyed by themselves. We, on the other
hand, as the scholium says, " sentimus experimurque nos aeter-
nos esse." And by our consciousness of our own eternity
Spinoza does not mean those vague and only half-rational
yearnings and impulses towards the " Infinite " or rather, the
" Indefinite " to which some attach such importance. A sound
philosophy, indeed, cannot be expected to set much store by
sensations so ill-defined and misty. What is meant here is
something much more intelligible as well as more simple. Our
consciousness of our own eternity, in fact, means our capacity
for contemplating things in their systematic connections with
one another, apart from merely temporal relations, and particu-
larly our ability in our science to work into the fabric of our
knowledge things vanished and gone before our birth and things
yet to come equally easily with the events of yesterday. " The
mind," says Spinoza, "perceives the things which it conceives
by the understanding no less vividly than those which it
remembers. For the eyes of the mind, by which it sees and
observes, are nothing else but demonstrations themselves.
And therefore, though we have no recollection of existing
before the birth of our bodies, still we feel (sentimus) that
our mind, in so far as it involves the essence of the body under
the form of eternity, is eternal, and that this its existence
cannot be defined temporally nor explained in terms of
duration." It is thus no ill-defined sentiment but the capacity
of becoming what Plato magnificently calls (Rep. p. 486) the
" spectator of all time and all existence " that constitutes the
earnest and certitude of our eternity and gives it its character-
istic superiority over such eternity as may be reasonably
asserted of a part of inorganic nature, a brute, or even of our
own body.
(2) The other question " what exactly is the aliquid which
survives," is perhaps not answered by Spinoza in so many words,
but a review of the remaining propositions of this section of the
Ethics will, I think, enable us to advance a solution with some
confidence. First, then, we have to gain a clearer conception of
eternity and the " eternal part " of the mind as they manifest
themselves in this present life, and next, on this basis, bearing
in mind what has already been established as to the perish-
ability of certain elements of our psychical nature, we ought to
158 A. E. TAYLOR :
be able to form a pretty shrewd conjecture as to what is left.
Now we find in the series of propositions 24-39 the old doctrine
of the "Short Treatise" restated and developed. In the " Short
Treatise," it will be remembered, the qualitative characteristics
of the Immortal part were two, (a) its possession of true and
adequate ideas, (6) its union, by means of love, with God. The
propositions before us aim at establishing the same two points
with a further difference in each case. We learn now that the
basis of that contemplation of things as they are " in God " in
which "standeth our eternal life" is a knowledge of our own
body " sub specie aeternitatis" and that the love of God, which is
the only emotion which belongs to the mind qua eternal, is an
"intellectual" love which is no other than the infinite love with
which God eternally loves Himself. A short account of the
steps in the argument will make both these conceptions more
intelligible. Props. 24, "The better we understand particular
things, the better we comprehend God," and 25, " The highest
aim and chief virtue of mind is to understand things with the
third kind of knowledge" i.e. to trace them as necessary
consequences of the nature of one of the divine attributes are
merely introductory to what is to come, and as the proof of
them must be obvious to anyone who has followed the
argument of this essay up to the present point, they need
not delay us. Prop. 2G, "The more capable the mind is of
understanding things with the third kind of knowledge, the
more desirous is it of so understanding them," may also be
allowed to pass without comment. Prop. 27 is more important.
" From this third kind of knowledge arises the highest possible
content of mind " (mentis acquiescentia). This follows naturally
from what has been already laid down, that to attain this kind
of insight into the ways of the world is the supreme endeavour
(sumnius conatus, Prop. 26) of the mind ; naturally, the gratifi-
cation of the summus conatus produces the summa quae potest
dari mentis acquiescentia, especially as each adequate Idea is. as
we know (u. 43), accompanied by the knowledge of its own
adequacy, that is, of the thinker's own perfection (concomitante
idea sui suaeque virtutis). The use of this proposition will be,
as we shall find, to establish the connection, which for Spinoza
is essential, between full and perfect knowledge and the corre-
sponding emotional state, the "Amor intellectualis Dei." In
Prop. 29 we are at last face to face with the great paradox of the
system. "Whatever the mind knows under the form of eternity
it knows, not by conceiving the present and actual existence of
its own body, but by conceiving the essence of its body under the
form of eternity." The meaning of this amazing sentence will
best appear if, discarding Spinoza's formal demonstration, we
THE CONCEPTION OF IMMORTALITY IN SPINOZA'S ETHICS. 159
go back to certain ideas which we have found underlying the
Epistemology of the second part of the Ethics. We learned
there, it will be remembered, that the immediate object of
every idea is some affection or state of the corresponding body
(11. 13, II. 19) and that, consequently, in our ordinary perceptions
we might be said to be perceiving rather the changes in our own
body produced by various objects than the real character of the
objects as they are in themselves, or "in God" (n. 16, Coroll. 2).
We may now see that the scientific apprehension of things " ut in
se sunt " equally involves a reference to the body, but of a differ-
ent kind. In all our statements about the physical world, for
instance, there is a tacit but never absent reference to our own
organism as a sort of permanent Schauplatz or background.
When we speak e.g. of the state of things on this earth at
some remote period before the appearance of man, or in some
obscure nook or cranny of the world where human foot has
never trod, what we give as the fact is always what we should
have seen, had we been there to see it. So with our descrip-
tions of the behaviour of a microscopic animalcule ; we narrate
what we have seen under the microscope, or what we believe
we should see, were our lenses of sufficient power. Apart from
this ever-present reference to the standard of the normal human
organism every quality in terms of which we can talk about the
world as it exists for science becomes unmeaning. For, even if
you succeeded in eliminating all so-called " secondary " qualities
from your account of the " real " world, you would not have got
rid of space and motion, and I suppose no one who understands
what he is talking about means by space and motion anything
other than the space and the motion which we see. Note, how-
ever, the difference between this reference of everything to our
own body and the former. The uninstructed man's reference is
to the present condition, or the past condition at some arbitrarily-
chosen moment, of his own individual organism ; the scientist's
reference is to the standard of the normal human organism
conceived of as being, without distinction of past, present and
future, a permanent constituent of and abiding background for
reality. Thus, while the basis of the ordinary man's knowledge,
such as it is, of facts, is the knowledge of his own body " cum
relatione ad cerium tempus et locum," the knowledge of the body
as involved in the scientist's Welt-Anschauung is knowledge
"without reference to time," or " &ub specie aeternitatis." So the
distinction between the knowledge which the mind gets of
things when that knowledge is based on the affirmation of the
actual present existence of the body and the knowledge which
is dependent on the affirmation of the "essence of the body
under the form of eternity " is that the one takes its stand at a
160 A. E. TAYLOR:
particular point of time and space, and so sees all upon which it
looks in a perspective which more or less obscures the true
outlines of objects ; the other is, so to say, raised sufficiently
high above the plane in which its objects are contained to take
in their relations to one another truly and without distortion, as
the eye takes in the view from a balloon. In the one case you
have a distorted congeries of personal recollections and experi-
ences, in the other an orderly and digested system of science.
It must also, of course, be remembered that, for Spinoza, to
have an idea of a thing involves having an idea of that idea
(II. 22), and consequently that adequate knowledge of the body
"sub specie aeternitatis" includes not only a scientific appre-
hension of the outer world but also a profound knowledge of
your own mind, the self-knowledge which brings sanity of moral
purpose and inward quiet. The man who adequately knows his
own body knows not merely the true relations of other things to
each other, but the place of himself in the world, what his value
in the scheme of things, what his power of action and grounds
of hope. He knows " what things must, and what things may
be;" he has the secret which enables a man, in the great phrase
of Lucretius, "to contemplate the All with a mind at peace," and
he is consequently strong, as only he can be strong, in the self-
mastery and singleness of purpose which such knowledge gives.
Prop. 30 takes us yet a step further towards our goal. "In
knowing itself and the body under the form of eternity the mind
necessarily has knowledge of God, and knows that it is in God
and is conceived through God (scit se in Deo esse, et per Deum
concipi). This follows, of course, from the equivalency, with
which we are already familiar, of eternity with the necessity of
the divine nature, and of knowledge 'under the form of eternity'
with knowledge of things " ut in Deo sunt." The object of
restating the proposition in this form is to lead up to the
demonstration of the connection between true thinking and the
intellectual love of God. This demonstration is given in form in
Prop. 32. As has already been shewn, the adequate knowledge
of things under the form of eternity yields the highest possible
peace and content of mind (Prop. 27), which moreover (Prop. 30)
is accompanied by the recognition of God as its cause. Hence,
adequate knowledge "sub specie aeternitatis" necessarily awakens
love to God, not in so far as we imagine Him to be present at a
given moment, but in so far as we recognize Him to be eternal.
Thus this kind of love differs toto caelo from gratitude to God
for private and personal favours vouchsafed; it arises, altogether
apart from any personal reference, from the simple contempla-
tion of the divine nature as it is " eternally," or for science, and
it is therefore called by Spinoza, to distinguish it from all
THE CONCEPTION OF IMMORTALITY IN SPINOZA'S ETHICS. 161
emotions based on the " passions " which accompany " imagina-
tion" and its imperfect ideas that is, based on personal
grounds intellectual. And this intellectual love of God is
(Prop. 33) itself eternal. For, by Prop. 31, the mind in
knowing anything under the form of eternity is knowing its
own eternity. Hence it is only in so far as the mind is itself
eternal that it can be the source of knowledge under the form
of eternity and of the emotions consequent on it. True know-
ledge and the intellectual love aroused by it belong therefore to
the mind qua, eternal, and only qua eternal. They are thus
themselves eternal. Further, knowledge sub specie aeternitatis
and the intellectual love of God are the only activities of the
mind which are truly eternal. For the former this results from
what we have already learned of the perishability of all know-
ledge based merely on imagination and memory, that is, of all
knowledge which is not sub specie aeternitatis; for the latter it is
proved by Prop. 34, of which we have already made some use ;
" the mind is subject to the emotions which are grounded on
the passions only so long as the body endures." As any and
every emotion which arises from imagination, that is, from any
grade of knowledge short of true and adequate knowledge, is by
Spinoza said to belong to the mind quatenus patitur, non quatenus
agit, this at once excludes all and each of the emotions other
than the intellectual love of God of which we have just heard.
So that the " eternal " part of mind now stands reduced to two
elements only, one cognitive and one emotional, the cognitive
element being concrete but impersonal scientific truth, and the
emotional the calm and acquiescence which such truth produces.
We have now practically completed our task. We have
denned the eternal part of mind, and thus arrived at the
answer to the question which confronted us a few moments
ago, " What is the ' something ' that remains when the body is
dissolved by death?" The remaining propositions of the closing
section of the Ethics contain much that is of high interest and
would demand separate consideration in a complete account of
Spinoza's philosophy. Particularly interesting is the suggestive
identification of man's "intellectual" love to God with God's
love to man, and of both with God's eternal intellectual love of
Himself. All this, however, is nothing more than a fairly
obvious deduction from the principles which have been estab-
lished in the propositions that have already come under review,
and contains nothing that could materially affect our decision
as to Spinoza's meaning. Still less difficulty will be felt by a
reader who has clearly grasped the principle of the parallelism
of extension and thought in the statement that " qui corpus ad
plurima aptum habet, is mentem habet cuius maxima pars est
M. 11
162 A. E. TAYLOR:
aeterna." All that remains for me to do, then, is to attempt
such a translation of our present results, so far as they bear on
the state of the mind after death, into ordinary non-technical
language as may give more definite and tangible sense to what
must appear, to a reader who is not intimately acquainted with
Spinoza's terminology, slightly vague and shadowy.
We have already abundantly seen what the mind's eternity
is like as felt and enjoyed during life ; we have now only to ask
how we are to conceive of its continuance after death. That it
does in some sense continue; i.e. that "eternity" does not mean
merely the highest form of mental activity during the present
life, I think I have already proved beyond all reasonable doubt,
but I may now further strengthen my case by the citation of
three passages which could not well have been adduced at an
earlier stage in our enquiry. The first of the three is found in
the Scholium on Prop. 34, where we are told that mankind in
general, though conscious of their own eternity, confound it
with duration and attribute it to memory or imagination, which
they believe capable of surviving death. Here it will be
observed that the error attributed to the mass of mankind is
not that they wrongly think that what is " eternal " remains or
persists after death ; so far they are in accordance with
Spinoza's own language on the subject; but that they (1) think
this " survival " the essence of eternity, and (2) attribute it to
the wrong element in mind. So in the Corollary to Prop. 40 it
is laid down that the " part which remains," be it ever so small
in respect of the whole mind, is still the " most perfect part,"
where, as anyone may see, the qualitative superiority of the
" eternal " life and its persistence are as clearly distinguished as
it is possible for two things to be. Lastly, in the Scholium to
this same proposition we have the formal definition of the
mind's eternity in these words : " the mind, in so far as it
understands (intelligit), is an eternal mode of thought which
is determined by another eternal mode of thought and this
again by another, and so on in infinitum ; so that all together
(simul) form the eternal and infinite intellect of God," where
the last clause seems absolutely to exclude the perishability, in
any sense, of the " eternal " mode of thought referred to.
Some difficulty may perhaps arise from a comparison of this
Scholium with certain other passages in the Ethics. It might
be asked how the statement that the sum total of finite minds
makes up the infinite intellect of God is consistent with the
famous sayings in the Scholiunj to I. 17, where we are told that
God's intellect differs from ours toto caelo and that the only
point of identity between the two is, like the point of identity
between a common dog and the dog-star, their being usually
THE CONCEPTION OF IMMORTALITY IN SPINOZA'S ETHICS. 163
called by the same name. And a further difficulty suggests
itself about the whole conception when we go on to read the
proof given in this same Scholium of the incommensurability of
the divine with the human intellect. For the point on which
the whole argument turns is the very natural one that an
intellect which, like that of God, is the cause both of the
essence and of the existence of its objects cannot but be very
different from one which is not. Yet how are we to reconcile
this explicit recognition of the divine intellect as the sole cause
(unica causa) of the objects it comprehends with the equally
explicit declaration of I. 31 that the " intellectus actu," whether
finite or infinite, belongs not to Natura naturans but to Natura
naturata ? I cannot go into these questions here at any length,
but I may perhaps be allowed just to indicate what I take to
be the way out of the difficulty. To take the second point first.
It is clear, I think, that the " intellect" of God of I. 17 is some-
thing more than the intellectus actu of I. 31, even when the
latter is taken to be "infinite." For it is clear from the
language of Spinoza's proof of the latter proposition that the
intellectus actu, even when thought of as infinite, must be taken
to mean an understanding which is still distinguished from
other forms of psychical life (as e.g. will and feeling) to say
nothing of the forms of extension or of some third attribute of
God. Whereas in God not only the various "modes" of each
attribute, but also the infinite attributes themselves, form a
perfect unity without distinction of any sort (see II. 7, Corollary).
Hence the infinitus intellectus Dei cannot be identified with
any form of intellectus actu, that is intellect as distinguished
from and opposed to extension or any other attribute, and the
argument of Prop. I. 31 is therefore not applicable to it. And
with respect to the other question, the difficulty vanishes, I
think, on a second reading. For we must remember that we
have no right to assume that human minds are the only finite
minds in the world. God, we must remember, has an infinite
number of attributes which are inaccessible to our human
perception; and it must follow therefore, on the Spinozistic
principle of parallelism, that each modification of each of these
to us unknown attributes will be attended by its corre-
sponding Idea in God conceived under the attribute of thought,
that is, by its corresponding finite " mind." Hence there will
be a great deal in the "infinite intellect of God" besides human
thought. And it is these other hypothetical minds, I suppose,
which he means by the "other. eternal modes of thought" by
which, according to the Scholium on v. 40, .the eternal mode of
thought which constitutes " our mind " is limited. This inter-
pretation is rendered practically certain by two passages in
112
164 A. E. TAYLOR:
Spinoza's letters 1 . Writing to Oldenburg (Land and Van
VI. xxxil) he expressly says that the difference between the
human mind and the potentia infinita cogitandi in nature is
that the latter "in se continet totam naturam obiective," while
the former is this same infinite intellect (hanc eandem potentiam
statuo), but not qua infinite and comprehending the universe
but quatenus tantum humanum corpus percipit. And in the
important letter (L. and Van VI. LXVl) to Tschirnhaus we learn
that, though every single thing is expressed in the infinite
intellect of God in an infinite number of ways corresponding to
the infinite number of attributes, still these infinite " ideas "
have no connection with one another, and therefore constitute
the mind, not of one, but of an infinite number of beings (unam
eandemque rei singularis mentem constituere nequeunt, sed
infinitas).
How then to restate our results in more modern language ?
I think, thus. What is meant by the survival of the Mind as
" intelligence " is simply the fact that an adequate idea, when
once thought, forms a permanent addition to the stock of
scientific knowledge in the world. In a way, of course, all
emotions and thoughts are eternal, as being the product of one
and the same eternal "World-process," but it is only the
perfectly adequate scientific formulation of truth which can
persist unchanged. Thus, those personal memories and affec-
tions which derive all their piquancy and poignancy from the
personal reference, perish for ever, as such, at death. Parental
or sexual love, e.g., may be a permanent factor in human life,
but not the love of this particular parent for this particular
child. That derives all its depth from the fact that it is not
merely parental love as such, but the love of a particular
individual A for his own child B. Hence, with the death of
the persons involved, it too dies. And so with all thought and
feeling whose inmost being is bound up with the personality of
the subject who experiences them. They depend for their very
existence on just those differences which make the existence of
one man separate from that of another, and it is for Spinoza
not in so far as men are thus exclusive of one another, but only
as they can enter into and share a life without personal
reference where all meet and are indistinguishably one that
they are immortal. So again with honest but defective scien-
tific thinking. The astronomical ideas of Ptolemy or Tycho-
Brahe, so far as they contained truth, survive indeed in later
science, but only after suffering strange transformations. As
formulated and held by those scientists, they have perished
1 Here, again, I have to express my indebtedness to Mr Dale.
THE CONCEPTION OF IMMORTALITY IN SPINOZA'S ETHICS. 165
beyond the power of time to recall. And this utter mortality
is to some degree the doom of every man, no matter how great
his stock of adequate ideas. For by IV. 4, no man can make
himself a mere home of adequate thought. Fieri non potest ut
homo non sit naturae pars. And the Corollary is hominem
necessario passionibus semper esse obnoxium; and to be subject
to " passions " is, as we have seen by v. 34, to be perishable at
death. But an adequate idea, once thought, takes its place, in
the form in which it is thought, as a permanent addition to
knowledge. Whoever would think again the adequate geo-
metrical ideas of Euclid or Newton must think them not only
in the spirit but in the very shape in which Newton or Euclid
thought them. For an adequate idea has a double prerogative
over every other factor in the soul's life. In formulating it, he
who first does so is rethinking part of the eternal content of
the divine intellect in its true form; thus the adequate idea,
properly speaking, has had no beginning and will have no end.
He is also thinking something which all subsequent human
science must rethink after him ; hence the adequate idea,
because adequate and eternal, is aLso, so far as it appears in
time at all, as a consequence of its eternity, permanent and
ever-during. For even human thought is not for Spinoza, as it
might be for some philosophers, a merely transient phase of the
supreme reality which may sooner or later give place to some
newer development, but an abiding and perpetually necessary
consequence of the divine nature, an aeternus modus of one of
the attributes, which consequently semper existere debet.
Such a theory of intellectual, or impersonal, immortality is
not without its repellent aspects and difficult points. It may
be attacked, as by Martineau, on the ground of its failure to
satisfy ordinary human yearnings and aspirations. Or it may
be assailed more philosophically from the opposite side by one
who likes to raise the question whether we have a right to
assume, as Spinoza does, that any truth is so true that it can
be regarded as a permanent and immutable contribution to
knowledge. It may be said that even the most indisputable
axiom must be prepared to undergo modification as science
grows, or that, if there be " adequate ideas " at all, they will at
best be found among the most abstract and empty generalisa-
tions of logic, and so fall far short of the concrete fulness which
is with him the characteristic peculiarity of knowledge of the
third or highest kind.
With Spinoza, however, as with most writers who are really
worth a serious study, the task of intelligent interpretation,
though harder, is infinitely more valuable than that of facile
criticism, even when the critic hits the real blot. Almost more
166 A. E. TAYLOR: IMMORTALITY IN SPINOZA'S ETHICS.
than any other modern philosopher, the retiring and unobtrusive
man has succeeded in awakening the most opposite feelings and
the most ludicrously exaggerated judgments. But it is really
a question of only secondary importance whether the great Jew
of Amsterdam is for us as for Novalis, a " Gott-betrunkener
Mensch," and for Renan the man who " has perhaps had the
nearest vision of God," or whether we regard him, to use the
more than half ironical expressions of the most illustrious of
English philosophers, as a " famous atheist," and his system as
the " gloomy and obscure region of hideous hypothesis." The
main thing, here as everywhere, is not to judge that is easy
enough but to make sure that we understand.
II. PLATO'S EARLIER THEORY OF IDEAS.
BY R. P. HARDIE.
I DO not intend in the following pages to discuss Plato's
Earlier Theory of Ideas in a general and exhaustive way, but
only from a special point of view. Plato's metaphysics seems to
have been suggested to him primarily by his logical theories,
and to be hardly more than a fresh way of stating logical results.
Perhaps the best way then of approaching the Theory of Ideas
is through Plato's logic, and this is the method which I propose
to adopt. Even if this mode of treatment may cause a loss in
breadth and completeness, we may at least hope for a gain in
simplicity. Further I propose to confine my attention to one
passage, chiefly, of Plato's dialogues, the metaphysical parts of
Bks. vi. and vn. of the Republic. Two special considerations
have led me to adopt this plan.
The first is the fact that it is now possible to assume with
confidence that the Republic is one of the earlier dialogues,
though perhaps the latest of these. The determination of the
order of Plato's dialogues was originally due to Prof. Lewis
Campbell, who, in his edition of the Sophista and Politicus,
published in 1867, maintained that the Republic was separated
from the Laws by a group of dialogues which included the
Sophista and Politicus. This view he supported mainly on
philological grounds. It has been corroborated by independent,
and much more recent, investigation of a similar kind in
Germany, without however winning the assent of Zeller. For
the study of Plato the importance of Prof. Campbell's theory
cannot be over-estimated. Even if the theory is not absolutely
proved, the evidence for it is more than sufficient to justify
me in assuming it as a hypothesis to be tested ultimately by
the light it throws on the development of Plato's thought.
Plainly the duty of a student of philosophy is to accept the
decision of scholars on a matter of this kind. Our knowledge
of Plato has been sufficiently retarded by the a priori dicta of
the metaphysicians.
168 R. P. HARDIE:
The second consideration that has led me to devote most of
my space to certain passages of the Republic is that within the
last year or so the attention of students has been directed to
that dialogue by the publication of Jowett and Campbell's
edition of the Republic and of Bosanquet's Companion to
Plato's Republic. These are both, in the main, commentaries,
and are invaluable for the minute study of the text. But it
will not be necessary in a paper like the present, which aims
at a very general outline of the Theory of Ideas as expressed in
the Republic, to make many explicit references to them. I
shall assume Prof. Campbell's conclusion that the Republic is
practically a single whole.
I shall have occasion to refer frequently to Mr Jackson's
well-known article in the Journal of Philology, X., " On Plato's
Republic, vi. 509 D sqq." Even if one differs from Mr Jackson's
conclusions, one must admit the great service he has rendered
by his very interesting and novel theories. Many students of
philosophy, I fancy, have derived their interest in Plato from
the article mentioned and from the series of articles by Mr
Jackson in the same journal on the Later Theory of Ideas.
Socrates 's contribution to science may be said to have been
the invention of a simple kind of argument or regular process
of thinking by means of which he tried to make ordinary
thought more clear and definite. This art of Socrates was
purely practical, a mere epireipia or rpifiij ; no theory of it can
be ascribed to him. An attempt to formulate the Socratic art
is to be found in a well-known passage of Xenophon's Memora-
bilia (IV. vi. 13) : et 8e TI$ avrto irepl rov avriXeyoi [Aij8ev sywv
oa<f>e<> Xeyet?/, aXX' avev a7roSet^e&)9 rjrot, <ro<f)(0Tepov <f)d<TK(ov
elvat, bv auro? \eyoi, rj iroKLTiKwrepov rj dvSpeiorepov rj aXXo TI
TWV roiovrcov, CTTI rr)v V7ro0e<riv eTravfjyev dv Trdvra rbv \6<yov.
In other words, there is a principle or standard (v7r60e<ri<;) and
a reference (eTravaycayrj) to it of the question in dispute. In
general the standard is the definition of a common name, e.g. a
good citizen is a man who makes the TroXt?, let us say, stronger
than her enemies. What is referred to it is a proposition of
the form : x is a good citizen. The argument as a whole, since
the major premiss can be converted simply, is a syllogism in
the mood Barbara. If the aTroSet^? or demonstration of the
point in dispute is expressed in an interrogative form, we have
an example of epwTrjriKij.
In his earlier period, that is, in the Republic and the dia-
logues that preceded it, Plato developed the Socratic art in two
ways : (1) he formulated it and in so doing found an expression
for it in terms of metaphysics (the Theory of Ideas) : (2) he
PLATO'S EARLIER THEORY OF IDEAS. 169
brought it into connection with the science of mathematics. In
what follows I propose to verify this statement by an examina-
tion of what is perhaps the most important passage in which
the Earlier Theory of Ideas is explained, Republic 504 D 534 E.
But before doing this I will examine Phaedo 95 E 105 D, a
passage whose connection with the Republic has been pointed
out and emphasized by Mr Jackson (/. of P., x. pp. 136 138)
and by Mr Archer- Hind in his edition of the Phaedo, Appendix
II. The fact that this connection is not yet perhaps sufficiently
recognized and that its interpretation is still disputed (J. of P.,
xxiii. 45) will perhaps be held to justify further discussion of it.
For the sake of convenience, I will begin by giving an
abstract of Phaedo 95 E 105 D. Socrates is made to explain
how in his opinion Pre-Socratic science (physics and mathe-
matics) had failed to assign adequate causes (alriaC) for things,
while it destroyed the simpler beliefs of ordinary knowledge.
Anaxagoras however was different from the other Pre-Socratics.
He held that 1/01)9 is Trdvrwv atrto? and he might therefore be
expected to find the only true cause of things in TO fteXria-Tov.
But as a matter of fact Anaxagoras, while using this language
about 1/01)5, fell back on unintelligible (physical) causes which
should properly be regarded as secondary causes or conditions.
In trying to carry out Anaxagoras's original design, Socrates
had however himself failed. Perhaps it was like the case of
being blinded by looking directly at the sun instead of investi-
gating it in an elfcow such as a reflection. Perhaps therefore
by way of Seurepo? TrXoO? we ought to study rwv ovrwv 17
aXrjdeia in ol \6joi. This method will consist in ' supposing '
(vTrodepevos) in each case the \6yos that seems strongest or
' most valid ' (eppw^eveararo^) and admitting as true whatever
agrees with it. This is the kind of explanation or cause
invented by Socrates, the familiar method of eiSr) ; e.g. in the
case of ra tca\d, the J-Tro'tfecrt? that there is something that is
KaXov avTo fca0 J avro. Things that are # are # by irapovcria of,
Koti'wvia with, ' x ' (the 61805). The question as to how it is so
Socrates leaves open : only he insists on the primary fact that
'x' is the sole air La why #'s are x. In respect to each vTrodearis
there are two perfectly distinct questions : (1) as to the consis-
tency of what springs from it (ra oppyOevra or &>p/A?;/iei/a), and
(2) as to the truth or validity of the inroBea-if itself. If the
vTTodecris itself is questioned, the objector must be referred
upwards to a i/cai/o? Xrtyo?. Lastly if y is contrary (evavrtov) to
x, any one of the many x's may be y, i.e. may share in both x
and y, but x is never y, is always repellent of it. And further
if z is always x, i.e. if z is an etSo<? falling under x, then z as
well as x will repel y.
170 R. P. HARDIE :
There are two points on each of which this abstract commits
us to a decision in favour of one out of two possible interpreta-
tions.
The first is with respect to the Tr/ocSro? TrXofc, which Plato
had been forced to abandon. The interpretation adopted above
is due to Mr Jackson (J. of P., x. pp. 136 138) who is
followed by Mr Archer-Hind (Phaedo, App. II.). All previous
commentators (Stallbaum, Ast, Geddes etc.) had apparently
identified the TT/HBTO? TrXofc with the methods of the physicists
and not with the teleological method (hinted at by Anaxagoras)
of explaining everything by reference to TO d<ya6ov or TO
/3eXTt<7Toi/. Mr Jackson's view is so convincing as to need no
defence.
The second disputable point is the precise bearing of the
simile of looking at an eclipse. Mr Jackson's view (adopted in
the abstract given above) is that the unsuccessful attempt to
investigate TO cuyaQov corresponds to looking directly at an
eclipse, while the investigation of ra>v ovrwv rj aXrfOeta in \6joi
corresponds to observing an eclipse by means of its et/ewi/ in
water. Recently Mr C. E. Campbell (/. of P., xxm. 45, pp.
77 80) has suggested that the two ways of observing an
eclipse correspond, not to the Trpdoros and the Sevrepo^ TrXov?,
bat to two rival methods of prosecuting the latter. Plainly the
first step towards deciding this question is to get a clear idea of
what the Sevrepos TrXoO? actually was, from the parts of the
text that are independent of the simile. This can be done
most conveniently perhaps by an examination of Mr Archer-
Hind's view as explained in his edition of the Phaedo, chiefly
App. II.
In Mr Archer- Hind's view the Sevrepos -n-XoO? is identified
with the study of \6yoi as distinct from eiSt]. He says for
instance (p. 190), " Sokrates in fact, since he despairs of actually
grasping the eternal ideas, of which all natural phenomena are
symbols, endeavours to form from those symbols, mental concepts
or universals, which shall represent the ideas to him : they are
the ideas as reflected in his intelligence," and again (p. 139,
note) " If we are asked, why is a rose beautiful ?...we shall say
it is because the rose partakes of the beautiful. Now it is of
course the idea which is the cause of the rose's beauty; the
Xo7o? is not the cause, but it is the conception of the cause
which, for fault of direct apprehension of the idea, we have
formed by generalisation from particulars. Only when we know
the ideas shall we have a true insight into causation; until then
Xdyoi are the best substitute." But as far as I can see there is
nothing in the text to suggest that Plato distinguishes Xoyot
from eZSr). The SevTepos TrXoO? consists in making certain viro-
PLATO'S EARLIER THEORY OF IDEAS. 171
, ' assumptions ' or ' suppositions.' What is assumed is
indifferently described by Plato as a \6yos or an eI8o<?, as the
following words prove: vTrodefievos e/cda-rore \6yov (100 A),
vtro6e(jivo<i elvai rt tca\bv avro /cad' avro (100 B). The most
explicit account (in 100 B 101 D) of the Sevrepos TrXov? is
given, not in terms of \6yot but of et'S/, which constitute the
kind of atria with which the persons of a Platonic dialogue are
familiar.
As we should expect, Mr Archer-Hind's view of the TrpcSro?
TrXofJ? depends on his view of the alternative method, and we
find him identifying it with a knowledge of the eiSt? as well as
with a knowledge of rdyaObv. For the eiSrj being rejected from
the alternative method must find a place in the Trpwro? 7r\ov$.
The quotations given above make this plain. That the 7rpu>ro<s
TrXoO? is also identified with the investigation of rayaBov
appears for instance from the following (p. 188) : " his hope was
to discover rdyadov teal Seov as the ultimate air la ; in other
words, to construct a teleological theory of the universe. This
then is the 'great and wondrous hope,' which the physicists
could not gratify, and which he himself failed to fulfil ; and this
it is for which the method of \6yoi offers a substitute."
We may now return to the disputed question of the simile
of the eclipse. Mr Archer-Hind, whose interpretation I will
consider first, finds here two chief difficulties.
The first is in the words : roiovrov ri /cal eya> Bievoijdijv, /cat
(ISeicra, ar/ Travrd-naac rrjv "^rv^rjv rv<f>\co0ei'r)v /3\eTra>v 7rpo<? ra
7rpdy/j.ara roi<? oppacri teal etcdarrj roav alffO^ewv eiri^eipcSv
cnrreadai avrtav (99 E). Pp. 191, 192: "Now if we examine
the obnoxious sentence, we shall see that it is in itself confused
and inaccurate. After rrjv tyvxrjv rv<f>\c00eir)v, which gives us
the thing symbolised, we have a sudden and perplexing transi-
tion to the symbol in ^Keirtav TT/JO? rd Trpdy/jLara rot? Oftfj-acri :
the mind's eye and the body's eye are jumbled most incoherently
together ; for the deprivation of mental vision is given as the
result of action on the part of the bodily organ. And in the
next breath we have etcdcrrr) rwv alcrBr/crecw eiri'xeipwv uTrrecrOai
avroav, which is not even germane to the metaphor. Surely
these are two serious defects." P. 135, note : " 7rpo<? rd
7rpdy/j,ara, i.e. the ideas themselves." Strictly however it
is clear that metaphor enters, not with /3A,eVo>i/, but with
rv(f>\(i)0eir)v ; and if, as I have tried to show, the TT^WTO? TrXoO?
is not concerned with the ideas, rd TT pay par a cannot be
taken as meaning " the ideas themselves." It is possible that
there is a reference in rd Trpdy/j,ara to the thing symbolised.
But it is simpler to take the words following TTJV ^rv-^fjv as
unmixed metaphor, rd irpdypara being simply ' things ' (crw-
172 R. P. HARDIE:
as opposed to their eucovcs, e.g. reflections in water. This
sentence then merely states that the 7ra#o<? of the observer of
an eclipse is to be transferred to the soul, and adds a new
metaphor. (Perhaps rd -7rpd<y/u,aTa is substituted for rov %\iov
eK\iTTovra for the sake of the new metaphor.) It is the next
sentence that contains the interpretation of the symbol : e8oe
877 /iot xpfjvai et'? Tou? Xo7ou? Kara(f>vyovra ev efceivois cncoTreiv
rtav ovrwv rrjv dkijdeiav. \6joi correspond to the elicwv of an
eclipse, and ra>v ovrtav rj d\ij0eia corresponds to the rfXto?
eK\eiTrcov itself. And I see no reason why Plato should not
introduce a new metaphor. The only possible objection to a
new metaphor would be, not that it is not germane to the
original metaphor, but that it is unfit to represent what is
symbolised.
The second difficulty discussed by Mr Archer-Hind refers to
the sentence which immediately follows the simile and qualifies
its exactness : fo-w? /j,ev ovv a> elicd^a) rpoTrov nvd OVK eoitcev
ov yap irdw crvy^apw Toy ev rots Xo^ot? (TKOTrovfjLevov ra ovra
ev el/cocri /iaXXoy cricoTrelv rj rov ev rot? epyois (99 E 100 A).
Pp. 189, 190 : " Though I admit these concepts are but images
of the realities, mind I don't allow that they are so in any
greater degree than material phenomena : both in fact are
images ; but whereas phenomena are the images presented to
us by our senses, concepts are the images deliberately formed
by our understanding; concepts therefore are more real than
phenomena in proportion as understanding is more sure than
sense." This interpretation plainly depends on the assumption,
which I have tried to disprove, that \6<yoi are to be distinguished
from eliSr) and are related to them as ettccov to a> eoiice. Again
Mr Archer-Hind says (p. 136, note) : " epya here = the particu-
lars. The word is used because of the familiar antithesis with
X(xyo<? ; not I think with a view of denoting the particulars as
works or products of the ideas whence they derive their exis-
tence." But is there any reason why epya should mean
anything but the familiar antithesis of \6yot, i.e. reality or act
as opposed to thought or word 1 So interpreted epya would =
et&7, and Plato's intention in qualifying the simile would be to
warn his hearers that the distinction between \6yot and etStj is
not relevant to his present purpose, that it is not the former
that are to be treated as elicoves of the latter, but that both
together Xtxyoi + el8ij are etVoi/e? of TO {3e\Ti<rTov, the supreme
reality.
Mr C. E. Campbell's interpretation must be considered
next. He suggests (/. of P., xxm. pp. 76 80) that the
words eSofe roivvv...avTov at the beginning of ch. XLVlii. refer
to the Seirrepos TrXoO? alone, not to the Tr/atoTo? TrXov?, and
PLATO'S EARLIER THEORY OF IDEAS. 173
indicate that there are two possible ways of pursuing the
former. And the words taken by themselves may very well
have this meaning. But it is difficult to follow Mr Campbell
in his account of the actual methods of investigation referred to
by Plato. In the first place Mr Campbell seems to identify the
study of eiSij with the TT/OCWTO? 7rX,o09 : " The clause TOIOVTOV
Ti.,.ai>T(av must refer to a rival method of prosecuting the
second-best course and is not to be regarded as the description
of results apprehended from seeking immediate familiarity with
the Good itself or its special determinations in the world of
ideas, which, as Mr Archer-Hind justly remarks, were regarded
by Plato as forms of the dyaObv itself" (p. 77). But, as I have
tried to show, this is inconsistent with the account of the
8evrepo<; 7r\oO<? actually given by Plato, 100 A 101 E. In the
second place Mr Campbell supposes what is on his interpretation
the inferior method of pursuing the Sevrepos TT\OV<; to consist in
the investigation of particulars. He therefore regards the difficult
sentence TOCOVTOV Ti...avT<av as not metaphorical and takes
TT pay fiara to mean "material particulars and not the ideas."
This gives the proportion, 77X409 e/cXeiTrtoz/ : its eiKwv in water =
irpay/jiaTa (material particulars) : \6yoi, in respect of 'bright-
ness.' However " on general grounds, as Mr Archer- Hind has
pointed out, it is inconceivable that Plato should have spoken
of phenomena as dazzling from surpassing brilliance" (p. 79).
Therefore really, according to Mr Campbell, it is \6jot, that are
' brighter ' than Trpdj^ara and not vice versd. Hence the point
of the simile is in the fact that the sun is eclipsed, and its truth is
contained in the qualifying clause, taws peis ovv...pyoi<;, which
practically reverses the original simile. In a word Mr Campbell
explains the original simile, which is inconsistent with his
interpretation of the passage as a whole, as ironical and to be
taken in an opposite sense. This is obviously a dangerous
device and I do not think that it is appropriate here. But I
do not propose to discuss the general question of the marks by
which Platonic irony is to be recognised.
One other point in the summary of Phaedo 95 E 105 D
given above requires, perhaps, elucidation and expansion. We
saw that any vTr66e<ri<; may be regarded in either of two ways,
(1) as to its 'results,' opfirjOevra, and (2) as to its validity. In
explaining the former Plato uses the following words (101 D) :
et 8e rt<? avrr)<i rf)<; inroOecrews e^oiro, ^aipeiv ea>r)<> av ical ovtc
aTTOKpivato, etu? av ra air Ki,vr}<; opfArjQevra aictyaio ei (roi
d\\r}\oi<s a-vfji(j)cavetri Bia<f)a)Vt. Mr Jackson would reject these
words, and Mr Archer-Hind, besides making philological objec-
tions to them, says that the words ew? av...8ia<f>(ove2 "are in
themselves sheer nonsense. If a hypothesis is proposed to account
174 R. P. HARDIE:
for a given set of facts, we proceed to observe not whether the facts
are consistent with each other but whether they are consistent
with the hypothesis." This objection seems to me to confuse
precisely the two questions which Plato insists should be kept
separate. For the agreement of the hypothesis with facts
belongs to the other question, the question of the validity of the
hypothesis, and has nothing to do with the consistency of the
results derived from that hypothesis. Plato is not thinking of
an viroQeffis in the sense in which 'hypothesis' is used in
inductive science, but primarily of the consistent use of a
common name. The inroOeo-is is the definition of the common
name, by means of which definition we are able to use the
name in such a way that we never contradict ourselves, i.e.
never say that a particular thing both is and is not x. Thus
the object of the definition may very well be described as
consistency with one another of the results of the definition.
If the matter is to be illustrated from science, one would most
naturally find an example of what Plato means, not in inductive
science, but in algebra, where certain laws (e.g. ab = ba or
aB 4= /5) are assumed, and the sole test is consistency. These
are not so much laws as definitions, at once of the fundamental
or simple operations of the science and of the symbols that are
subject to these operations.
Our results, so far as we have gone, may be summed up as
follows. The peculiar method of Plato is the method of Ideas.
Xo7o? and e'So? mean the same thing expressed in terms of
thought or language and of reality respectively 1 . It follows
from this fundamental identity that the relations among etS^
are the same as the relations among the corresponding \6yoi,
and again that the relation of ' x ' to the particular #'s, which is
described vaguely in the Phaedo as Trapovaia, Koivcovla, is the
same as that between the definition of a; and the particular
propositions of the form ' this is x.' A \6yos (or eZSo?), further,
is the germ of scientific knowledge, that is, of knowledge which
is self-consistent. If a Xoyo? is attacked, it must be brought
under a higher \6yos, which is regarded by the objector as
iicavos. And plainly the doctrine of the Phaedo implies that
corresponding to TO f3e\ricrTov there is a \6<yo<; which is iicavbs
without qualification. In this way the Phaedo undoubtedly
implies that TO ftekTivrov is an ISea in the widest sense of the
1 Mr Archer- Hind notes the approximation to Aristotelian doctrine in
the use of ova-ia in Laws 895 D where overi'o, \6yos and ovofia are distin-
guished (Phaedo, p. 136, note). It is difficult to see how he comes to
think that Plato opposes Xoyos to etSor, whereas in Aristotle they are
practically convertible ; e.g. the soul is denned by Aristotle indifferently
as ovai'a a>f fldos, as ov<rla q KOTO. TOV \6yov and as Xoyor, of body.
PLATO'S EARLIER THEORY OF IDEAS. 175
word. But at the same time from another point of view the
Phaedo opposes 1877, in a narrower sense, to TO ^e\narrov
which is at once an idea and more than an idea.
The passage of the Republic (504 D 534 E), which I propose
to examine, can be divided readily into four sections : (a) the
Similitude of the Sun, 504 D 509 B : (6) the Divided Line,
509 c 511 E : (c) the Cave, 514 A 521 B : (d) the stages in
the education of the guardian, explained with reference to the
parts of the Divided Line, 521 c 534 E.
The Similitude of the Sun is introduced in the following
way. In the fourth book the virtues of the guardian had been
explained in outline. Plato now, in the sixth book, endeavours
to trace these virtues to their central principle, TO fieyta-rov re
Kal fid\i(rra 7rpo<rrjKov /uiddijf^a. This is familiar to his hearers :
Traimo? auTo OVK oXfya/a? a/e^/coa? OTt ye 77 rov dyaBov
I8ea fiiyiarov f^dBijfia, TroXXa/a? dtcrftcoas, rj Sifcata Kal TaXXa
Trpocrxprjo-dpeva xprfa-i/jia KOI &)<>eXi/za yiyverai (504 E, 505 A).
Jowett remarks : " It is remarkable that although Plato speaks
of the idea of good as the first principle of truth and being, it
is nowhere mentioned in his writings except in this passage "
(Introduction to translation of Republic, p. xcviii. Bosanquet,
p. 238). But we can have no difficulty in finding here, with
Mr Jackson (/. of P. X. p. 137), a reference to the passage of the
Phaedo, which I have discussed above, for we have just seen
that there the idea of the good is at least implied. The change
of words (from TO (3e\Tia-rov to 77 TOU dyadov ISea) is perhaps
what we might expect, for, as we shall see, the drift of the present
passage is to connect the supreme idea, more explicitly than in the
Phaedo, with the lower ei&ij. In fact r dyadov and rj rov dyadov
I8ea are here used indifferently, while in the Phaedo only the
former occurs. Here too, as in the Phaedo, Plato at first avoids
a direct account of the IBea rov dyadov. In the earlier dialogue
he explained how, when he failed to discover TO fieXritrrov
itself, he had fallen back on the study of ecSr). Here his object
is different. He wishes to insist on the necessity of a know-
ledge of the supreme 'idea,' and therefore he modifies his
earlier similitude. Using again an illustration drawn from the
sense of sight, he now points out that sight differs from the
other senses in being more complex. Besides faculty and
object there must be light or the sun. This in sight corre-
sponds to the ISea rov dyaOov in thought. In the Republic
Plato emphasizes the function of the sun itself in the visible
world ; in the Phaedo the function of an image of the sun.
The loea rov dyadov then on the one hand causes 7ri<rr^ij
in the faculty, on the other, d\rf8eid re Kal TO ov in TO voov-
And, Plato adds, just as the sun is the cause of yeve<ri<;
176 R. P. HARDIE:
teal av^rj teal rpo(f>r) to TO, opard, so the ISea rov dyaOov is the
cause of TO elval re teal TO ov to ra voovpeva. It is obvious
that this extension of the simile is somewhat forced. The
words yeveo-is teal av^rj teal rpo(f>rj suggest chiefly organic
creatures, whereas rd opard should include indifferently the
organic and the inorganic. In fact, in the extension of the
simile what is illustrated is really clearer than the illustration.
The effect of the extension is simply to emphasize the doctrine
that ' existence ' corresponds unconditionally in the world of
ideas to intelligibility or truth, eiSo? to \6yos, reality to vali-
dity. While the i&ea rov dyadov is the cause of ovaia, it
nevertheless, Plato explains, is not itself ovcria but ' exceeds it
in priority and power.'
It is necessary to notice further that the sun is described
by Plato not only as like the good but also as its product (09 Se
etcyovd*; TC ToO d<ya6ov (j>aivrat teal opoioraros fceiv(j)...dQ6E).
As Mr Bosanquet points out (p. 241) the notion of effect is
associated in Plato's mind with the notion of something made
like the cause. Thus the sun is not used in the present
passage merely as an illustration of the good. It is at least
a natural symbol for that idea. The importance of this will
presently appear in the interpretation of what follows the
similitude of the sun. One may note in passing that Plato's
reconciliation of the fact that the sun is the HKJOVOS of the good
with his later statement (509 B) that just as the good is
superior to ovaia so the sun is not itself yevecri<; can be learned
from the Timaeus (41 AB).
I come now to the Divided Line, and I will begin by
indicating the points in which it agrees with the doctrine of
the Phaedo.
Segment (3) stands for the mathematical and kindred
sciences, which start e'f v-jroOea-erav and proceed, not to an
dp%i], but, by agreement (6(jLo\oyovfj,eva>s), to a conclusion or
end (re\evrij). Similarly, in the Phaedo a Xdyo? or 64809 is
assumed and all results consistent with it are admitted as true.
Segment (4) consists in a movement from an vtrodea-if to an
dp'xrj dvvTToBerof, whence the mind returns to the vTr60<ri<;
with which it started, in this way transforming that ' assump-
tion' or 'presupposition' into a conclusion from a genuine
dpxij. This dp%rj dwrr66ero<f, i.e. the I8ea rov djaOov, is
plainly the 'highest' \6yos implied in the Phaedo, correspond-
ing to TO /9e\Tio-Tot>. Further, the scheme of the Divided
Line implies, precisely as in the Phaedo, that the objects of the
mind in (3) are et/coj/e? of those in (4). For (3) : (4) = (1) : (2),
and (1) represents et/toz/e? of the objects of (2).
If we add that (2) consists of animals and ' things that grow
PLATO'S EARLIER THEORY OF IDEAS. 177
and are made ' (a-^fiara ?) and that the mind in (3) uses the
objects in (2) to illustrate its eiSrj, the above may be taken as
a preliminary outline of the doctrine of the Divided Line.
Our next step must be to correct and fill up this outline, by
comparing it in detail with the text, and with the various
interpretations that have been suggested.
We may begin with the easiest segments (1) and (2).
It has been maintained, on the one hand (by Mr Jackson,
J. of P. X. p. 135), that the objects in these segments are
purely illustrative of those in (3) and (4): on the other, that
they are not illustrative at all, but have a distinct, although
an inferior, reality of their own. In the first place one must
observe that these interpretations may both be true. For as
we saw above the notion of an inferior or dependent or created
reality is hardly distinguished in Plato's mind from that of an
image or likeness of the superior reality. But as a matter of
fact the balance of evidence seems to be in favour of the view
that Plato's primary intention was to represent reality by a
quadripartite line. There are however several facts that seem
to make against this view. The Divided Line is introduced as
if it were a completion of r) jrepl TOV r)\iov 6^010x775. But
perhaps it is intended merely to show wherein the similitude
of the sun was deficient and to lead the way to the Cave, which
is the true completion of the earlier similitude. Again, the
Divided Line explicitly professes to represent a division of
things into two kinds, TO VOIJTOV and TO opaTov. But as a
matter of fact segments (1) and (2) are not confined to objects
of sight. In 510E ' TrXarTovcrt ' suggests touch: in 511 C
' aLa-dfjTw (not bparai) TravTajraa-iv ovSevl Trpocj-^pw^evo^ ' is
applied to the process of thought in (4) : and, if we take into
account the pages that follow the Cave, 521 c 534, a passage
which is plainly a mere expansion of the Divided Line, we find
that the concrete counterparts of the abstractions of geometry
are called opaTa rj air Ta ertw/iara (525 D). We know too how
sight as the most important of the senses tends to take the
place of sense in general. But what seems to me to decide
the question is the fact that the sun is not mentioned in the
Divided Line, or in the passage 521 c 534. Exclusive refer-
ence to sight was hardly essential to the similitude of the sun,
for that similitude was extended to include the creative activity
of the sun, and plainly a thing is not created qua visible rather
than qua, let us say, tangible. But the sun was essential, and
absence of reference to it can mean only that the use of simili-
tude is abandoned.
In the interpretation of segments (3) and (4) we meet the
same difficulties as in the Phaedo. Mr Jackson's view can be
M. 12
178 B. P. HARDIE:
gathered from the following (J. of P. X. p. 136): "That the
superior object is the idea is indicated at 510 BD, 511 B, and is
indeed generally acknowledged. What then is the inferior
object, 'the image or reflection of the idea'? In the case of
every group of particulars to which we give the same name, we
assume the separate existence of an idea in which these par-
ticulars participate. This idea is the whole completed con-
notation of the name, as it would be understood by omniscience,
hypostasized. Now the general notion is the connotation of
the name as we imperfectly understand it, not hypostasized.
For example, the idea of sulphur is, hypostasized, the whole
sum of the properties, known and unknown, which are common
to specimens of sulphur: the general notion of sulphur includes,,
not hypostasized, so many of these as are known to us. The
general notion is therefore not the idea, nor a correct and
complete representation of the idea but an incorrect and
incomplete representation of it. May we not assume, apart
from any indications to be found in Plato's account of the
methods of investigation, that by 'the image of the idea' he
means the general notion?"
In the first place one would point out that this seems to
confine ideas to segment (4) whereas there is reference in the
text to ideas in segment (3), e.g. in 510 D to TO Terpdymvov
avro. But as Mr Jackson himself admits this (note, p. 136) it
will be necessary to examine the chief support of his theory,
namely his distinction between \6yoi and elBrj. This question
might have been raised with respect to the passage in the
Phaedo, but it is more convenient to discuss it now in connec-
tion with the Divided Line.
The sciences that fall in segment (3) are chiefly mathe-
matical (510 c). It is safer therefore to take one of Plato's own
examples, e.g. a o-^/za or geometrical figure, say a circle, rather
than Mr Jackson's example of sulphur, which is certainly not
the kind of thing that Plato had in view. In geometry a circle
is defined and a number of properties are deduced from the
definition. According to Mr Jackson's view the idea of a circle
contains more properties than are given in geometry. If by
' properties ' are meant deductions from the definition, this is
plainly true, but it would be no reason why the definition
should be regarded as imperfect. If ' properties ' means quali-
ties generally, then the implication is that circles have ' proper-
ties ' which cannot be derived from the definition, that circles
are not only x as geometry says but are really xy, where x, y
are coordinate qualities common to all circles and such that no
x is not y. But is this possible ? To make the case more
plain one might say that it is equivalent to the supposition
PLATO'S EARLIER THEORY OF IDEAS. 179
that a circle can be represented in Cartesian coordinates by an
equation different in type from a (a? + y*) + bx + cy + d = 0.
The case of sulphur is really similar, although it is less obvious
than an example from geometry. For the only possible defini-
tion of a specimen of sulphur must be ' That which possesses
the qualities x ascribed by us to sulphur.' Any finite number
of specimens might have y in common as well as x, but that
would give us no right to say that all possible specimens of
sulphur are y as well as x, unless y is causally dependent on x.
As before, if y is causally dependent on x, the distinction would
be, not between what we know and what really is, but between
our definition and a complete development of what it implies \
Lastly, one would ask what is the precise meaning of ' hyposta-
size'? An etSo? corresponds to a definition, i.e. a proposition or
judgment, and it is hard to see how one could hypostasize a
judgment.
Plato's account of the relation of segment (3) to the other
segments is obscure and inconsistent. According to the opening
words of the passage (axnrep TOLVVV ypa/j>fjir)v Si^a TeTfjMj/jLewriv
\a{3a>v avicra TjjLrjaara, Trd\iv reave efcdrepov rarfaa ava rbv avrov
\6yov, 509 D) the segments (1) (2) (3) (4) ought to be represented
by a ar ar ar 2 , where r is the ratio of a thing to its image.
This would make (3) equal to (2) in respect of <ra<f>ijveia xal
d<rd<j>ei,a. But, elsewhere, Plato says that (3) uses as elfcoves
objects taken from (2) so that (3)=ar 2 if (2) = ar. And he
says also (511 D, cf. 533 D) that Sidvoia the faculty of (3) is
between vovs the faculty of (4) and Sofa the faculty of (2). It
is, however, perhaps not necessary to take ava rov avrov \6<yov
as meaning strictly ' in the same ratio,' since dva\oyia includes
both arithmetical and geometrical progression, and dvia-a
suggests the former kind of progression rather than the latter.
On the whole it seems safe to say that both the segments (3)
and (2) are of an intermediate character. The objects in each
are complexes in (2) material compounds, in (3) combinations
of the material and the ideal. (1) and (4) alone are single
in character, the latter being what is entirely self-consistent,
1 A distinction similar to Mr Jackson's is made by some writers on
Logic, e.g. Mr Keynes (Formal Logic, 2nd ed. p. 27) suggests that the
name ' comprehension ' might be given to " all the attributes possessed in
common by all members of the class denoted by the name." Without
doubt, if it were necessary to have a word which should mean indiscrimi-
nately the primary and the dependent attributes of a term, 'comprehen-
sion' would serve the purpose well. But, if I rightly understand Mr
Jackson, the distinction between primary and dependent attributes is vital
to his purpose, for I do not think that Mr Jackson would suggest that the
various rt\evra\ arrived at in geometry are a closer approximation to the
(l8os than the definition from which they are derived.
122
180 R. P. HABDIE:
the former what is merely inconsistent. A better diagram
perhaps for Plato's purpose would have been a line A BCD
divided into three parts, BG serving the double function of
being the lower segment of AC and the upper segment of BD.
With respect to segment (4), it is perhaps worth while
to notice that the mental process represented by it is probably
suggested by the geometrical method of proof by analysis, the
invention of which is ascribed to Plato. In the Meno (86 E, 87 A)
there is a description of Reduction (air ay my TJ) which consists
in reducing the truth of a proposition (say y) or the solution of
a problem to the truth of another proposition (say x) or the
solution of another problem. Here x is not known to be true ;
we know only that if x is true then y is true. The method
of proof by analysis differs from this in two ways : (1) it provides
a definite process for passing from y to x, and (2) # is known to
be true, i.e. the method results in proof (or solution in the case
of a problem). The process of passing from y to x is presumably
deduction, that is, y is provisionally assumed and deductions
are made from it. If one of these deductions, x, is known to be
true and if y can be deduced from it, then y is proved. The
essential condition of the method is therefore that not only
should x be derivable from y but that also y should be derivable
from x. Reductio ad absurdum consists in the disproof, by
analysis, of y. Here x, which is self-contradictory, is derived
from y, and we can of course, since the consequent is denied,
argue back to the falsity of y. The first explicit reference
to proof by geometrical analysis is, I suppose, in Nic. Ethics,
1112 b 15 21: aXKa Qk^voi reXo? rt, 7r&>9 ical Bta rivcov
ecrrat crfco7rov<Tiv,...8t ez/o? S' 7riT\ov/jLevov TTCO? Bia TOVTOV
ecrrai Kaiceivo Bia TWOS, eeu? av e\daxft,v eVl TO irpwrov atriov,
o ev rrj evpe&ei ea-^arov e<mv' 6 yap povkevopevos eot/cev
iv teal dva\veiv rov elprjpevov rpoirov wcrirep
1 In reference to this passage in the Ethics, Mr J. A. Stewart (Notes on
the Nic. Ethics, i. pp. 262 266) speaks of the ' Analytical Method of proof
in Geometry ' and in explanation of the method quotes from D. Stewart :
"" If in this deduction I arrive at a consequence which I already know to
be true, I conclude with confidence that the principle from which it was
deduced is likewise true. But if on the other hand I arrive at a conse-
quence which I know to be false, I conclude that the principle or
assumption on which my reasoning has proceeded is false also. Such a
demonstration of the truth or falsity is called an Analytical Demonstra-
tion." In point of fact no geometer would suppose for a moment that a
proposition is proved because true consequences can be drawn from it : to
do so would be to admit into geometry probable reasoning (cf. Ethics,
1094 b 26). The case of inferring from a given proposition a proposition
known to be false is of course entirely different. In geometry, I take it,
all proof as such is synthetic. Analysis is not a kind of proof, but only
a way of discovering proof.
PLATO'S EARLIER THEORY OF IDEAS. 181
Here what takes place in the practical sphere (where y is a
reXo? and x is Svvarov or Si ^/iwi/) is explained by the analogy
of geometrical analysis. Plato's account of segment (4) seems
to correspond with this method point to point. First the dp%ai
of the sciences are provisionally assumed (rds virodecre^
Troiovfjievof OVK dp%ds, d\\a TO> ovri V7ro0ecrei<;, olov CTrtySao-ei?
re KOI op/ia?,... 511 B); then the mind proceeds upwards to an
(ipxn dvvTToOeros : lastly it returns to the place whence it
started, that is, to the dp%al of the science which have now
become the re\evral of dialectic.
Compared with the Divided Line, the similitude of the
Cave presents little difficulty. I will first state the most
obvious interpretation and then consider objections.
If we call the Cave and its accessories (a), and the similitude
of the Sun (6), we find that the passage 514 A 521 B employs a
complex symbol (a) + (6'), where (&') is practically the same as (6)
but differs from it in complexity. (6') is the same as (6) in so far
as it is a symbol taken from the facts of light, and a symbol
which represents the world of ideas, i.e. segments (3) and (4) of
the Divided Line ; it differs from (6) because it contains more
distinctions, among others the distinction between the segments
(1) and (2). The symbol (a) is carefully composed so as to
suggest a world which is less real than (6'). Instead of the
sun, we have in (a) the light of a subterranean fire : instead of
the products of art and nature, we have only works of art,
among those the merely mimetic products of fine art holding a
conspicuous place ((Ttcevr) re Travro8aTrd...Kal dv&pidvras ical
aXXa c3a \i6t,vd re fcal %v\wa xal iravrola elpyao-peva, 515 A):
instead of shadows and reflections caused by the sun, we have
shadows only, caused by the light of the fire. From these
facts only one conclusion seems to be possible. The complex
symbol () + (&') represents the Divided Line, or, in other
language, the Cave completes the similitude of the sun by
supplying a symbol for segments (1) and (2). One may add
that just as (6') is compounded of (6) and segments (1) and (2),
so also what is represented by (a) is not so much the original
segments (1) (2) as these segments compounded with (6). The
sun must have a place in the sensible world, to correspond to
the fire in the Cave, but the fact that what is represented by the
Cave is really the sensible world and not the world of sight only
is perhaps hinted at in the echoes from the back of the Cave
which the prisoners are supposed to hear.
Mr Jackson's view agrees with the view just explained
in recognising that the Cave together with segments (1) and (2)
form a complex symbol for the whole of reality. But since
he regards (1) and (2) as merely illustrative of (3) and (4) and
182 R. P. HARDIE :
seems to think that it is impossible to " treat part of the imagery
as part of the interpretation" (p. 140, note) he is led to invent
two terms as the interpretation of the Cave, 'particulars as
apprehended by the senses,' and 'particulars as they are in
themselves.' These new terms are plainly suggested by his
view of segments (3) and (4) as representing \6yot and eiBrj
respectively, but, so far as I can see, they have no warrant
in the actual text. Mr Jackson takes d<j>ofj,oiovvra in 517 A,
ravrijv roivvv...rr)v iic6va...7rpoo~a'7rrov airaaav rot? e/tTrpo-
crdev \670/iei/ot9, rrjv pev Bi ctyeeo<> (fxuvopevrjv e&pav rf) rov
Secr/j,(0Ti)piov olx^a-ei d<f>o/j,oiovvra, TO Be rov irvpos ev avrfj
</>w9 rfj rov f)\lov Bwdfiei, to mean ' paralleling ' not 'comparing'
or ' likening ' the ordinary rendering. That is, Mr Jackson, if I
understand him, makes dfyopoiovvra refer to correspondence
between parts of the symbol, and not to correspondence between
symbol and interpretation. Either rendering would suit equally
the view which I have explained.
According to Prof. Lewis Campbell, the chief difficulty with
respect to the Cave is the interpretation of the wyd\p,ara
<TKeva<rrd, the shadows of which are thrown on the back of the
Cave. Prof. Campbell suggests (Rep. n. p. 16) that these
a-iceva<rrd represent "the realities of <yev<ri<i, Nature as the
embodiment of the ideas, the facts of human experience as they
really happen and not as they seem." Again, more explicitly :
" The dyaXfiara are not themselves immediately perceived by
sense at all. It is only when the individual mind has been
freed by Socratic questioning, and turned about, and asked
what is it 1 (rl eo-Tt;)...that the soul begins to have an inkling
of that world, which was dimly represented to her in crude
experience, of a real finger, of a real square, of the Sun
himself as an embodied god, &c....The 'manufactured articles'
here exhibited by unseen powers correspond, not to the et/coi/e?
of the geometers, but to the realities typified by them."
Apparently this interpretation of the dyd\/j,ara leads Prof.
Campbell to say that " in passing onwards from the conclusion
of Bk. VI. to the allegory of Bk. VIL, the ground is insensibly
shifted, as the idealizing impulse gathers strength, so that
not only the distinction between TTIO-TI? and etVacrta is dropped
(since from the higher point of view the sensible world consists
entirely of images), all ordinary experience being now merged
in eltcaaia, but the actual scientific processes which rank with
Bidvota in Bk. VI. are now degraded to the level of ordinary
experience," and to find " some confusion " in Plato's statement
that the light of the fire represents the sun, "for the objects
seen by the denizens of the Cave are not lights but shadows."
It is easy to see that Prof. Campbell's interpretation of the
PLATO'S EARLIER THEORY OF IDEAS. 183
d<yd\/j,aTa depends on the assumption that the prisoner in
the Cave who sees only shadows corresponds to the ordinary
uneducated man. But is there sufficient ground for this
assumption ? The conclusion to which it leads seems im-
probable, for it is unlikely that a change of doctrine should be
introduced in an allegory, since the primary purpose of an
allegory is merely to illustrate. And this consideration seems
to have special force in the case of the Cave, since the passage
which immediately follows it is not symbolic and nevertheless
repeats in explicit terms the distinction made in Bk. vi.
between el/caa-ia and Trio-? (534 A).
Strictly there are two stages in the education of the
prisoner in the Cave, (1) when he is freed from his fetters and
allowed to see the oyaX/iara and the fire, and (2) when he
is 'reluctantly dragged up a steep and rugged ascent' and
enabled to see the sunlit world and ultimately the sun. Since
the light of the fire is to correspond to the sun the inevitable
inference is that the ordinary uneducated man corresponds to
the prisoner after he has been freed so as to be able to see the
aryaXpaTa and the fire. The prisoners who see only shadows
are ' like us ' but represent a more extreme case of the same
defect the defect of knowing only a part of reality and
taking it to be the whole. Thus the Cave contains two symbols
for ordinary experience. One only of these is to be interpreted
strictly : the other is introduced for the sake of greater
emphasis. As to the dyd\fj,ara, our conclusion must be that
they correspond to the objects of segment (2) of the Divided
Line and therefore to the et6i/e9, and not to the eiSij, of
geometry.
The pages 521 534 E which follow the Cave practically
repeat, from a new point of view, the doctrine of the Divided
Line. They contain, however, two points which call for special
attention.
The first is the account (521 c, seq.) of the way in which the
mind is led from segment (2) to (3). Some things in the
former are eyepritcd TT}? i/o^o-eo)? while others are not. For
instance a finger does not incite to reflection, or in other words
is adequately, that is, consistently, apprehended by alaQt]<T^
and has no eZSo? corresponding to it. On the other hand, the
perception of greatness and smallness, thickness and thinness,
hardness and softness, tends to contradict itself and requires
therefore for its correction the services of a higher faculty.
The second point worthy of notice in the account of the
education of the guardians is a reference to arithmetic 525 DE :
ol<r8a <ydp TTOV rov<j Trepl ravra Seivovs a>5, edv rt9
ev eTrtxeipf) ro3 \6yy repveiv, icaTfvyeXwa-L re KOI OVK
184 R. P. HARDIE:
eav <ri KepfAaTis avro,
rj Trore <f>avf) TO ev fjtrj ev d\\d TroXXa popta.
The precise meaning of this is obscure. It must mean (1) that
units cannot be unequal : but it may also mean (2) that a unit
is to be regarded as indivisible. The latter meaning would
exclude from arithmetic fractions and ratios in general.
Although the references at the beginning of Bk. x. to the
Theory of Ideas are obviously, as Prof. Campbell points out,
merely illustrative, perhaps I may with advantage devote a few
words to them. The productions of fine art are classed with
the reflections of segment (1) of the Divided Line. Each is
a copy of an object in segment (2), for example, a bed. That
object in turn is a copy of an t'Sea which exists ev rfj <f)i>a-ei and
is made by God. Again, three kinds of knowledge are dis-
tinguished : (1) that of the /u/^-n??, (2) that of the maker
of the cr/ceOo?, 6p0rj Tr/o-rt?, and (3) that of the man who uses
the er/cef5o5, eVto-Tr?//,?;. Thus distinctions (ISea and eV^o-Tr?/^),
which in Bks. VI. and vu. fall outside segments (1) and (2), are
made to fall inside these segments in Bk. x. The explanation of
the discrepancy must be that Plato has here modified his
real theory for the temporary purpose of depreciating fine art.
The same explanation will hold of 596 A elSos yap TTOV n
%v eicacrrov elcadafiev rideadai Trepl exacrra ra TroXXa, ol?
ravrov ovopa eTntfrepopev. In Plato's normal theory this
proposition is not true, as is shown by the example of a finger
in Bk. vii.
We have now before us an outline of Plato's Theory of
Ideas, in so far as it is expressed in the most important passage
of the earlier dialogues. I do not propose to draw from this
outline any formal inferences with respect to the general
character of the Theory of Ideas. Such inferences could be
made with safety only after a study of the later dialogues. But
it may be worth while to bring together some points, which
seem to have come to the surface, as it were, in the preceding
discussion.
1. An idea is the metaphysical equivalent of a definition.
To us Definition is only a part of logical doctrine, to Plato it is
a formula for all scientific thinking. Since a definition is the
explanation of the connotation of a name, we may perhaps say
that the Theory of Ideas of the earlier period tends to overrate
the importance of the meaning of a term in connotation, as
opposed to its meaning in denotation.
2. The relation between an etSo9 and the individuals that
have the same name is expressed indiscriminately by two groups
of words : (a) irapelvai, f^ere^etv, KowwvLa &c., and (6) words
PLATO'S EARLIER THEORY OF IDEAS. 185
which imply that an individual is like its eZ8o<?. Besides the
passages referred to above, Phaedo 73 E seq. may be mentioned as
containing an important statement of the latter way of ex-
pressing the relation. The ei8o<? is there represented as a kind
of type or ideal at which the particulars aim (opeyerai}
unsuccessfully.
3. There is no attempt to explain the nature of the
individual or particular as such. The peculiarity of each of TO.
TroXXa is that it can ' share ' in contrary el'&j. But since such
eiSi) have no icowwvia, it inevitably follows that the particular
breaks up into two parts which have no connection with each
other. Or again, in terms of ' likeness,' we should ask in what
the particular differs from the eZSo?? And Plato has no
answer.
4. The position of mathematics is hopelessly ambiguous.
It is said to use sensible et/cdi/e?. But are these necessary 1 *.
Plato seems to imply that they are not. Again, is there not a
defect in his mathematical conceptions 1 He seems to insist on
an abstract and absolute unit, which is indivisible, and therefore
to exclude incommensurable quantities, and to limit arithmetic
to the direct operation of multiplication.
III. SENSE, MEANING AND INTERPRE-
TATION. (II.)
BY V. WELBY.
TURNING now from Logic to Psychology, the first question
which suggests itself is whether Interpretation, its genesis, its
processes, and its developments, has hitherto received the same
attention from psychologists which they so conscientiously bestow
on all other mental processes. That it is a mental process no
one would deny: and as such by universal agreement it falls
within the scope of psychological inquiry. If it prove on ex-
amination that such attention has not hitherto been given, we
may further ask if there is a good reason for this omission, and
whether such reason has been duly explained to the reader.
Let us see then what Psychology has to teach us about
Interpretation. Where does it begin in the ascending scale of
life ? How does it do its work ? What are the stages of its ad-
vance ? How is it related on the one hand to Attention, Per-
ception, Memory, Imitation, Judgment, Inference, Conception,
and on the other to the physiological phenomena of response to
excitation ? Again, to what does the process properly apply ?
How far is the term metaphorical and therefore only partially
applicable ? What is it that needs, or bears, or demands inter-
pretation ? Is it primarily simple sensation, rising to that highly
complex experience, the hearing of articulately ' significant '
speech ? Or is it from the first the ' meaning ' of this sensation
the ' meaning ' of the first touch which to the Protozoon was
the signal of ' food ' or ' danger,' to the ' meaning ' of the most
abstract of propositions ? Or should we rather here say, 'sense' ?
Does the living organism from its lowest beginnings in some
'sense' 'interpret' sense? And does this 'interpretation'
gradually become more conscious and more complex until
the ' senses ' of temperature, of resistance, or effort, of touch,
of sight, of smell and taste, of hearing, resolve themselves into
the intellectual ' sense ' in which all experience, but especially
all language, is to be interpreted ?
We are told much of the impulse to imitate or mimic, but
SENSE, MEANING AND INTERPRETATION. 187
rarely or never of the equally deep and primordial impulse to
' sensify ' to touch with ' meaning ' every stimulus, excitation,
imitation, impression, sensation, perception, idea, till we reach
conception, which may be identical with the 'result of inter-
pretation,' and is often identified with ' meaning.' If ' idea ' is
here left out it is only because our neglect of the ' sensifying '
process helps to render it one of the most ambiguous of terms,
as in the case both of ' experience ' and ' reality.' Certainly the
impulse to ' sensify,' which makes the import of every unit of
consciousness or experience the measure of its importance, which
makes it 'signify' just as much as it ' signifies,' needs quite as
much analysis and is as much a part of true scientific training,
as the impulse to discriminate or to compare. The habit of
' attaching ' meanings is as dangerous as the habit of seeking or
assuming analogies, and as useful as that of detecting minute
but important differences.
Dealing with the primary intellectual functions Prof. Sully 1
gives us "(a) the initial stage, viz. the presentation of an object
to sense, and the fixing the attention on this, and (6) the stage
of Intellection proper, the act of perceiving, interpreting or
recognising what is presented" (p. 61). Here we have Inter-
pretation, with Signification, its condition and implication, in-
cidentally coupled with Perception and Recognition. No further
notice is taken of or use made of it : it is given no status whatever :
we are left without any guidance as to the nature or function of
Interpretation as distinct from the Perception which precedes,
accompanies, or at least conditions it, and the Recognition which
links past with present experience. Here then I would venture
to suggest that significance and interpretation should receive
in future more definite 'recognition,' and that we need the
triad, Presentation, Attention, Interpretation. Attention, we
learn, "underlies and helps to determine the whole process of
mental elaboration" (p. 167) and is a fundamental process,
appearing as a reflex at the very beginning of mental develop-
ment; the whole movement of which is determined by the
co-operation of this factor. According to the law of attention
that we pass at once from the sign to the ' thing signified,' we
have acquired an invincible habit of passing instantly from the
muscular sensations of the eye to the representations which
they call up. That is, of interpreting sensation. The child
learns to interpret as he learns to attend and to infer. Why
is this supremely important mental activity the immediate
result of attention the only one left unanalysed ? And what
do we suppose to be the genesis of ' sign ' ? What is the first
1 The Human Mind, Vol. I.
188 V. WELBY :
moment when a sensation or a thing stands not for itself but
for something else, draws attention not to itself but beyond
itself? We shall of course be referred to memory. But with
loss of memory is the idea of meaning obliterated or the ' sensi-
fying ' function atrophied ? Or may not this remain as an
unsatisfied craving, an unanswered 'What does it all mean'?
How far is the doubling tendency to see everywhere thing
plus meaning, or sign plus significate, ineradicable because
primordial ? Where does the ' calling up ' process begin ?
When one sensation suggests another ' remembered ' one ? I
that the link between association and signification?
Prof. James 1 considers that the great difference between
man and brute is that the former " has a deliberate intention
to apply a sign to everything " (p. 356). " How, then, does the
general purpose arise ? It arises as soon as the notion of a sign
as such, apart from any particular import, is born; and this
notion is born by dissociation from the outstanding portions of
a number of concrete cases of signification " (p. 357).
At least here we have what I would call the sensifying
instinct raised to the highest importance and marking the
advent of humanity. But what is here meant is the fully
conscious, volitional, ' intentional,' reflective application of the
sign : and in this sense we may welcome the definition of man
as the s\gn-generatoi rather than merely the sign-maker.
Prof. Baldwin 2 considers that "the ultimate basis of psycho-
logical interpretation and construction is the mental experience
of the individual, in so far as it has universal meaning" (p. 19).
"... It is only after the words assume meaning and sense to us,"
like all sensations or sense-impressions, "that they become
permanent acquisitions " (p. 202). He teaches that " the final
constructive product is a true mental unity or picture, which
has its own significance for the mind, apart from its elements.
This significance is an ideal meaning, which possesses general
interest, and appeals to man universally" (p. 234).
Here we get an incidental definition of significance as ' ideal
meaning,' which would surely be more instructive if we had
begun with a section on, let us say, the nature of the relation
between real and ideal ' meaning,' and the function of inter-
pretation as applied in each case and with express reference
to the idea of 'sense 3 .' Further "the most important thing
about interest is its quality as stimulating the will. A thing is
1 Principles of Psychology, Vol. II.
2 Handbook of Psychology, Vol. I.
3 Prof. Dewey's Article on "Knowledge as Idealisation" (Mind, Vol. xn.
No. 47) calls attention strikingly and usefully to some of the questions
here raised or implied.
SENSE, MEANING AND INTERPRETATION. 189
interesting to me when, for any reason, it appeals to my atten-
tion when it is worth looking at when it is so related to me
that I am led to investigate it ; and the feeling of interest is
this need of looking, investigating, finding out about" (p. 139).
"In interests, therefore, we have a step in mental growth of
enormous significance in psychological theory" (pp. 148 9) 1 .
In ' interests ' have we not in fact the key to the nature of
' sensifying ' process ? The ' feeling of interest ' endows our
surroundings with, bestows upon them, attributes or ascribes
to them, somewhat which may be described as meaning or
sense or significance: in other words makes them significant,
suggestive, indicative, symbolical, and then prompts the function
of interpretation. What is it that affects me ? Where does it
come from ? What is it like ? What will come of it ? How
shall I act upon it ? are among the interpretative questions. It
may be said that this subject is already discussed in logic and
psychology under the heads of Attention, Perception, Memory,
Judgment, &c. No doubt: but not from the point of view
taken here. Sense in the meaning sense has never yet been
taken as a centre to work out from : attention, perception,
memory, judgment, &c. &c. have never been cross-examined
from the direction of their common relation to a 'meaning'
which has to be made out, a ' sense ' which has to be mastered,
a ' significance ' which has to be felt, understood and acted upon.
Before we ask, what is real ? we not only need to ask the
' meaning ' of the ' sense of reality ' but the ' meaning ' of the
sense of ' sense ' ; the sense, intent, import, purport, of the per-
ceptions which make up or bring us experience.
Prof. Ladd's works would supply materials for an inde-
pendent Essay, and it is difficult to choose only one or two
representative passages from his Psychology. But it may
be noted that hardly any notice is taken of, or stress laid upon,
this central factor of intelligence, the reading of the messages
of Sense, and of the sense of these messages from the stimuli by
which perception is excited. Considering the enormous mass
of careful detail which the book contains, surely a larger space
might have been devoted to analysing not only the unifying
grasp but the sensificatory and translative energy of the
" interpretative consciousness."
But the inquiry suggested seems to be endless, since the
domain of 'meaning' covers all that can be discussed to any
purpose, or indeed in any rational sense. I must be content
therefore with having roughly indicated some of the many
directions in which enhanced clearness of thought might be the
1 Baldwin, Feeling and Will.
190 V. WELBY:
reward of a hitherto neglected investigation, and pass on to deal
with (2) the objection that the study for which I am pleading
would be impossible, and even if not impossible would be
undesirable, as tending to foster pedantry and shackle thought.
But the very idea of its impossibility seems largely owing to
its non-existence. From the moment when we begin to make
everything else subordinate to that vital interest for which we
have only as yet the vague and unanalysed expression which
belongs to vague and unanalysed thought, its importance begins
to reveal itself, to stand out and to demand a more worthy
appreciation than has yet been vouchsafed to it. In any
inquiry we may be forced at some point to recognise that what
we have taken for an 'object/ even in the widest sense is
rather a ' meaning ' or a ' sense ' : and that the halo of reality or
objective existence which we have thrown round it is just part
of its essential prerogative : is just part, that is, of the quality of
' sense ' which is the one character to be always safely ascribed
to it.
Why are we tempted to suppose that it would be impossible
to study the subject of meaning without re-opening all the
traditional controversies of philosophy, merely to plunge us into
an ocean of baffling problems of thought without hope of
rescue ? Surely because a vital point has been missed in our
training in the very theory of training ! We have not had the
sensifying and interpretative functions developed : their nature
has not been explained to us nor their true importance pointed
out 1 .
Again, why do we imagine that such a study could only end
1 It is a curious and may we say a significant? fact in this connec-
tion that the only instance I have been able to find of any direct attempt
to consider exactly what we mean by ' meaning' occurs in a forgotten book
of somewhat quaint dialogues called The Philosophy of Things. A
expresses surprise that B has never once asked him what he means oy the
word meaning.
A. " We have been talking almost of nothing else but the meaning of
words, and of the uncertainty of the meanings which are annexed to them,
and yet you have never once asked me the meaning of this same most
important word meaning ! the very pivot on which the whole of my
argument turns the very hinge on which it hangs ! "
B. " But by the word meaning you intend the sense in which a word
is to be understood."
A. "Ay there it is. I ask you to give me gold for my paper, and
you only give me another piece of paper. I ask you to give me a thing for
my word, and you only give me another word."
*******
B. " What then do you mean by the word meaning 1 "
A. "Be patient. You can only learn the meaning of the word mean-
ing from the consideration of the nature of ideas, and their connexion with
things" (pp. 789).
SENSE, MEANING AND INTERPRETATION. 191
in rigid pedantry and the sacrifice even of such power of
adaptation as language has already attained ? Surely, once
more, because of that unfortunate hiatus in our training already
so much insisted on: and notably also from our failure to
appeal to that organic analogy for language which is admittedly
the best we have. When the force of this analogy is once
realised it becomes amazing that we should suppose it possible
to ignore the need for new phrases and words, and insist on the
established vocabulary and forms sufficing us for the expression
of new experiences. In other words it betrays a curious atrophy,
in this one direction, of the adaptive power which has attained
such advanced developments, and has so enormously modified and
enlarged the outlook of life in the form of mechanical invention,
whether for commercial or for scientific purposes, or merely for
the furtherance of comfort and convenience. This tremendous
supplementary outgrowth, this unexampled expansion of the
range of sense and muscle, ought surely to rebuke the strange
hopelessness, apathy and contented bondage to the outgrown
and the outworn which keeps the development of adaptive
expression so far behind that of invention and discovery and
thus behind experience : which deprives us of whole quarries of
fresh simile whereby to express fresh lines of philosophical
thought : and which acts, so far as it goes, as an effectual
barrier to the acquirement of a more profound and really
scientific Psychology, and a Logic which shall command accept-
ance without question or reserve.
If it be rejoined that the growing powers of language are in
fact recognised, used, stimulated and systematised by every
means in our power and especially through every form of
training, I would answer that as yet the only work even
recognising them which I have been able to find is Dr Jes-
persen's. His title Progress in Language at least strikes the
needed and missing note : and whether his special theories are
or are not accepted, we owe him gratitude for boldly saying
that language is advancing and must rise in scale and value
and power, that we have even to learn that grammar must be
servant and not master, and that whatever expresses best and
signifies most should be systematically adopted, absorbed, and
if need be, allowed to transform and amplify the current canons
of expression.
After all, language is 'made for man' and not man for
language : he ought not to be its slave. If it be objected that
linguistic advance cannot be deliberately organised or even
cultivated because it refuses to be controlled, and that it is
hopeless to attempt to secure universal consent even to the
most obviously needed changes, the answer is that we already
192 V. WELBY :
assiduously cultivate correct articulation, true intonation and
pronunciation, accurate spelling, punctuation and grammatical
construction, and obtain in each case substantially uniform
usage. Why then not direct the attention of the young from
the very first to what is yet more important, the need of fresh
developments in expression and their right direction and
control ? Might we not further urge upon those who are our
natural leaders and teachers in speech and writing the pressing
duty of asserting the power of Man to train within obvious
limits his function of linguistic expression as he already trains
his touch and his vision, and indeed his memory and his
intellect? J. S. Mill 1 reminds us that mathematical study
induces wariness : it has the great advantage of training the
mind to make sure of its steps : " at least it does not suffer us
to let in, at any of the joints in the reasoning, any assumption
which we have not previously faced in the shape of an axiom,
postulate, or definition" (p. 612).
And this is surely one benefit that we should reap by making
significance and interpretation the subject of elementary study.
It would form the best introduction to mathematics, and even
act in this respect as its substitute in those cases where there
was no mathematical aptitude in the student.
At present we have not even attained to an adequate
conception of what an ideal language should be : we think of it,
if at all, as the impossible thing that Bishop Wilkins proposed
a formalised dialect of culture with its phrases "rendered
according to the genuine and natural importance of words," as
if this were anything but what their speakers intended by
them ! Or we try to invent an artificial ' Volapiik.' It is
surely time that the fetish of a possible Plain Meaning, the
same at all times and places and to all, were thoroughly ex-
posed, and students more explicitly warned against anything ap-
proaching it, except on the narrowest basis of technical notation.
Even Dr Jespersen tells us that an ideal language would
" always express the same thing by the same, and similar things
by similar means; any irregularity and ambiguity would be
banished ; sound and sense would be in perfect harmony ; any
number of delicate shades of meaning could be expressed with
equal ease : poetry and prose, beauty and truth, thinking and
feeling would be equally provided for : the human spirit would
have found a garment combining freedom and gracefulness,
fitting it closely and yet allowing full play to any movement "
(p. 365).
But the organic analogy forbids the metaphor 'garment,'
1 An Examination of Sir W. Hamilton's Philosophy.
SENSE, MEANING AND INTERPRETATION. 193
since it sacrifices an essential truth. Thought is not merely
' clothed ' in language. And the whole passage seems to ignore
too much the modifying effect of circumstance and 'atmosphere*
on 'meaning,' and the need for the ideal interpreter, keenly
sensitive to delicate differences of sense, to whatever cause
these were due: besides which the writer seems to forget
that in order to have a really higher grade of significance,
we must train a new generation in ' sensifics.' Indeed we
even require to evolve skilled ' sensificians ' able to disengage
the most subtle over-tones of sense from the complex note of
expression. There is a great deal of sound in the meaning-
world, but not enough delicacy of discrimination. The sound
is not fully articulate to us : we are more or less meaning-deaf.
In a wider than technical sense ' asymbolia ' is more generally
present than we suspect. Yet if an ideal language and its
ideal interpreter cannot yet at all events be hoped for or
practically aimed at, it would be something to realise, as Mr
Balfour claims that the philosopher has done, what not to do.
" It is something to discover the causes of failure, even though we do
not attain any positive knowledge of the conditions of success. It is an
even more substantial gain to have done something towards disengaging
the questions which require to be dealt with, and towards creating and
perfecting the terminology without which they can scarcely be adequately
stated, much less satisfactorily answered" (p. 160) 1 .
I would adopt this very language with reference to expres-
sion, its defects, its possibilities, its prospects of development.
It would be something to discover the causes of our failure to
express our whole or exact what? It would be more to
discover whether it was idea, conception, fact, meaning or thing
which we oftenest failed to express.
Mr Romanes 2 , following out an analogy between the
evolution of language and that from the single- to the many-
celled organism, remarks that " as in the one case there is life,
in the other there is meaning ; but the meaning, like the life, is
vague and unevolved : the sentence is an organism without
organs, and is generalised only in the sense that it is proto-
plasmic" (p. 314).
The comparison of meaning to life suggests two questions :
(1) whether our inquiry is after all merely a question of
Definition, and (2) whether a conception like Meaning can be
defined at all. But the very fact of any doubt as to the
possibility of defining terms which stand for unique or ultimate
(primary) ideas or any significant or sense-ful words at all, at
once reduces the appeal to definition to a secondary place
1 The Foundations of Belief.
2 Mental Evolution in Man.
M. 13
194 V. WELBY:
among possible solutions of our problem. There is perhaps no
greater snare, when we begin to realise the chaos in which
word-sense lies and to seek a remedy, than the easy and obvious
one of definition. Define, define, we cry, and then all will
be easy.
But surely we forget that in the first place, this is often
precisely the most impossible thing to do ; as a fixed meaning,
the same for all, unaffected by context of any kind, applies only,
if at all, to a small proportion of ordinary words : and secondly,
that to define every word which needs it would at once render
all important works simply unreadable. They would be so
cumbered with definitions or with pleas for, and justifications
of, proposed definitions, or with protests against certain received
definitions, that the book itself would disappear, while the
definitions would provoke challenge on every side, and except
in a few cases gain no universal assent, and thus advance us no
further. Definition, though essential on its own ground (which
again may be variously defined) would tend, if exalted into a
panacea, to hinder the evolution of the most precious quality of
language, that power of growth and adaptation by which even
now it reflects changes in the psychological atmosphere, and
utilises these to purify and enrich the treasures of thought and
imagination. But even if this were not so, the main problems
not merely of sense but of significance in short of ' sensifics,'
must have been solved before we could arrive at really authori-
tative definitions. Meanwhile the search for these must always
itself have valuable uses. As Prof. H. Sidgwick says, there
is often more profit in seeking than in finding definitions.
Prof. Minto 1 tells us that "words have little meaning for us;
are mere vehicles of thin preconceptions, raw prejudices" (p. 88).
The remedy, he thinks, is the verification of meaning. We
must fix and readjust. Surely that is beginning at the wrong
end ? We want first to rouse a general ' sense ' of what the
value of language, whether in the direct ' sense ' or as applied to
all that ' speaks ' to us, Nature, Art, &c. may become to us
if we will : of how much it may convey and suggest to us if we
only master its ' meaning ' methods. The varying character of
language of which we so complain, the changing complexities of
its suggestiveness and its implicative flexibilities, are not in
themselves evils: even its 'ambiguity' is in a certain sense a
glory which it shares with all the higher organisms : at this
moment the very richness of this living suggestiveness is the
cause of strenuous biological discussion and even controversy on
a central principle.
1 Logic : Induction and Deduction.
SENSE, MEANING AND INTERPRETATION. 195
Organic development tends in proportion to its complexity
to suggest more than one inference, and in that case to
have more than one possible meaning for the observer. And
thought cannot be poorer than life, so that its expression must
needs be capable of more than one interpretation. Only let us
recognise this and act upon it, and we shall cease to crave or
strive for the fatal gift of final and mechanical precision of
outline, or to protest againt the kind of ' vagueness ' which
belongs both to life and to the horizons of the world in which
we know it. We shall rather seek to be less 'vague' in another
sense: to know more clearly how things really are in this matter:
to allow more intelligibly for the halos or penumbras and for the
atmospheric refractions which surround the symbols of living
thought and actively growing mind. Ours is not a dead world
without atmosphere in which all outline is clear cut and hard :
earth's outlines melt and vary, shift and disappear, are magni-
fied, contracted, veiled, by a -thousand changing conditions. So
with the ' world ' of experience and its expression. We are too
apt to over-estimate the value of mere precision in language and
even in thought ; though for some purposes, as e.g. diplomacy,
it may be very great. As Renan himself, that master of lucidity,
says :
" The clearness and tact exacted by the French, which I am bound to
confess compel one to say only part of what one thinks, and are damaging
to depth of thought, seemed to me a tyranny. The French only care to
express what is clear, whereas it happens that the most important pro-
cesses, those that relate to transformations of life, are not clear ; one only
perceives them in a kind of half light."
This is suggestive witness. And when Mr Balfour 1 urges
upon us the power of authority to produce "psychological
* atmospheres ' or ' climates ' favourable to the life of certain
modes of belief, unfavourable, and even fatal, to the life of
others " (p. 206) : when he says that their range and the
intensity and quality of their influence may vary infinitely,
but that "their importance to the conduct of life, social and
individual, cannot easily be overstated," he would do well,
surely, to add a warning of their effect, not only upon Belief
but upon the Meaning whether of conduct or of experience, or
of the verbal expression and definition of either. For these
' climates ' must powerfully affect and modify the ' significance '
both of life and expression in act or word ; while we are con-
stantly tempted to ignore the fact at least in language, and to
suppose that meaning is the same to all, or ought to be so.
It is well to be warned that "identity of statement does not
1 The Foundations of Belief.
132
196 V. WELBY:
involve identity of belief" (p. 263); and that we are not entitled
to assume "that when persons make the same assertions in good
faith they mean the same thing." There is no precise or
definite relation between language and belief; but Formal
Logic and conventional usage, he complains, both assume the
opposite, a constant relation between Symbol and 'thing
symbolised ' that is, Symbolate. This is in fact " an artificial
simplication of the facts " (p. 265).
" If in the sweat of our brow we can secure that inevitable differences
of meaning do not vitiate the particular argument in hand, we have done
all that logic requires, and all that lies in us to accomplish. Not only
would more be impossible, but more would most certainly be undesirable.
Incessant variation in the uses to which we put the same expression is
absolutely necessary if the complexity of the Universe is, even in the most
imperfect fashion, to find a response in thought. If terms were counters,
each purporting always to represent the whole of one unalterable aspect of
reality, language would become, not the servant of thought, nor even its
ally, but its tyrant. The wealth of our ideas would be limited by the
poverty of our vocabulary. Science could not flourish nor Literature exist.
All play of mind, all variety, all development, would perish ; and mankind
would spend its energies, not in using words, but in endeavouring to define
them " (pp. 2667).
Truer words were never written. Yet if we say that when
we have managed to secure the validity of a particular argument
we have done all that can ever lie in us to accomplish, and that
more would always be not only impossible but undesirable,
surely this depends on what such 'more' was. Incessant
variation, as we have seen, is indeed as vitally necessary in
the world of expression as in the world of life. Here there is
no question even of metaphor. But that variation may become
infinitely more under control than it has ever been yet. To
speak of our struggle with ambiguity under the metaphor " in
the sweat of our brow " recalls the husbandry of the savage in
contrast with the scientific developments of civilised agriculture.
Truly the muscular effort and its result, and even the primitive
spade and hoe and so on, survive but little changed. Yet how
small a part they now play by comparison with the manual
labour and the tools of the earliest days ! Still greater of course
is the difference in our weapons and in our means of transport.
When we have sharpened the arrow or the hatchet and trained
a service of human runners or even of swift animals, we have
done all that is possible on that plane of development: but
most assuredly we have not even begun, except so far as one
phase insensibly succeeds another, the next stage in the long
ascent of civilisation. By what right do we assume that
Language is the one petrified, ossified, non-evolving function
of humanity, doomed eternally to remain either clumsy and
SENSE, MEANING AND INTERPRETATION. 197
rude, misleading, confusing, incongruous, inconsistent, or else
narrowed and crushed into a mere mechanical notation like
that of arithmetic ? As well say that we must for ever be
condemned in the matter of musical instruments to the
alternative of a primitive bagpipe or horn and an elaborate
barrel-organ. And if it be (rightly) objected that Language
needs an organic rather than a mechanical analogy, let us
remember the difference between the dexter finger of man and
its humbler simian ancestors, or even between his eye and
its primitive prototype in the mollusc.
" We are no more able to believe what other people believe
than to feel what other people feel." We may put the word
' mean ' here for the word believe : and that, even in the case
of "friends attuned, so far as may be, to the same emotional
key." The student of ' sensifics ' at least may be grateful for
Mr Balfour's plain statement that " this uniformity of convic-
tion, which so many have striven to obtain for themselves, and
to impose upon their fellows, is an unsubstantial phantasm,
born of a confusion between language and the thought which
language so imperfectly expresses. In this world, at least, we
are doomed to differ even in the cases where we most agree "
(p. 276).
At all events, if such ' uniformity of conviction ' were ever
attained it would mean the ' death ' of all that makes conviction
valuable. There are assuredly "differences where we most
agree" and also "agreements where we most differ." Yet
there is no doom in the matter except that which we
pronounce upon ourselves. If for 'uniformity' we substitute
intelligent sympathy and a consensus which has learned to
understand its own conditions : if instead of a clumsy make-
shift or a rigidly fixed and invariable mechanical action, we
start from the idea of a delicately flexible organic adjustment,
then our ' doom ' turns into our hope and will issue in our rich
reward.
We are not tied down to the action of Natural Selection
only, for voluntary action tells here also : and the ' characters '
that language acquires may certainly be 'transmitted' and to
some extent deliberately bequeathed. Only first let us learn
more about sense as the paramount value of Language, and
thus about the true conditions of its growing significance. If
the meaning here equivalent to content of such proposi-
tions as ' Caesar is dead,' ' Stealing is wrong,' or ' God exists '
" could be exhausted by one generation, they would be false for
the next. It is because they can be charged with a richer and
richer content as our knowledge slowly grows to a fuller
harmony with the Infinite Reality, that they may be counted
198 V. WELBY :
among the most precious of our inalienable possessions" (p.
278).
And why should not Language itself be charged with a richer
and richer content as we realise more clearly what it may do
for us ? After giving us a typical example of " all that is most
lucid and most certain" (p. 281), we are warned that its purport
" is clear only till it is examined, is certain only till it is ques-
tioned." It serves us for working purposes, but that is all.
Yet even so its credentials are better than any ' Foundations '
could be, as they vindicate themselves by results. The working
test is pre-eminently that which applies to language.
When we see the beginnings of an appreciable diminution of
mutual misunderstanding and controversy, together with a still
greater increase of power to express and power to distinguish,
to discriminate, to combine, to co-ordinate the wealth of ex-
perience : when we begin to acquire methods of interpretation
enabling our " most lucid and most certain " judgments to bear
the closest examination and question and to become the clearer
for the process, we shall not need to trouble about the ' founda-
tions ' of what will thus more than vindicate itself. It will be
enough to have diminished the present enormous and grievous
waste of expression-power and to have raised language at least
to the level of the nervous system to which it belongs, in its
power of adaptive response to excitation.
Once let general attention be directed to the practical
mischief the waste and loss, the muddle and misery caused
or fostered by inherited habits of language, and the universal
demand for economy of means and a ' way out ' of deadlocks
will come into play and soon make remedy possible. Indeed in
these days of ' enterprising journalism ' the danger may soon
become one of going too far and too fast. But we are a long
way from this yet. Most of us are content to remain on what
might be called a non-volitional level of speech, checking rather
than fostering the adaptive power which has given us all that
makes language worth having its beauty and fitness as well as
its symbolical character. As it is, the growth- force is supinely
allowed to spend itself in sporadic and simply wayward out-
bursts, mere play for the relief of superfluous organic energy
and impulse : there is no deliberate or recognised system of
directing these to intellectually useful ends. We practically
assume that language must be as far as possible stereotyped,
and that the only exceptions or alternatives are the casual
innovations dictated to us by the man in the street, who has
never been told that ' meaning ' is of the smallest consequence,
and airily destroys even for scholars valuable distinctions and
associations while his supposed teachers look helplessly on, as
SENSE, MEANING AND INTERPRETATION. 199
in the case, e.g. of 'phenomenal.' Though even here, changes
apparently erratic and made purely at random may have a
distinct psychological value and better reasons than we or their
maker quite realise.
And if we sorely need a heightened sensibility to the
possibilities and dangers of significance (with all its implica-
tions) we equally need it in the case of analogy. This however
is a subject so large as well as so important from the point of
view of this Paper that even to sketch it would demand a whole
essay. The study of analogy, metaphor, simile and illustration
from the point of view now suggested, is of vital importance
not only for Logic and Psychology but also for Science and
Philosophy. So indeed is the whole question of language
as raised by 'sensifics'; but this again for want of space cannot
now be discussed.
Both scientific men and philosophers complain more loudly
every day (as I have a mass of evidence to show) of the extent
to which they suffer from the present chaotic state of things.
The truth is that just as we are trained to be familiar with
' foreign ' languages, so we ought to be trained to be familiar
with new dialects in expression, whether these were direct as
in terminology, or indirect as in graphic or other aids to repre-
sentation. And let us not object that this would be an enor-
mous additional tax on memories already overburdened. The
truth is that we need far greater skill in swiftly discerning the
complexities of sense : in the art of seizing at a glance the
point, the gist, the whole trend of whatever is said or written,
to put it in a nut-shell if we choose : that we ought to be able
to ' place ' it, to translate it, to 'enter into' it, to assimilate it
that is, to transform it into living tissue of our own. And we
ought besides to be imbued, to be saturated with the ' sense ' of
the moral obliquity of giving each other darkness when we
might be giving light.
If we admit with Dr Ward 1 that " philosophy has no nomen-
clature and no terminology," that " every giant and every pigmy
states and misstates and restates as much as he wills"; that
" even babes and sucklings rush abroad brandishing the Infinite
and the Absolute with infinite ignorance and absolute conceit,"
we can hardly deny the moral as well as the intellectual
obligation to do our utmost in any way that seems feasible to
end such a disastrous anomaly. The labour of fresh inquiry
could not fail to be amply repaid. The results of this would be
much more than literary. On the one hand it is a question
of increased clearness and freedom in treating difficult or
1 Mind, Vol. xv. No. 58, p. 226.
200 V. WELBY:
obscure subjects, increased power of propounding, and also of
adequately criticising, new philosophical ideas : on the other
many a fallacy or myth owes its survival in great measure to
a dim general suspicion that the real gist of it has not been
touched by adverse criticism. Popularise 'sensifics' and the
faddists would have a hard time of it ; unless indeed their ' fad '
only required re-stating, limiting, guarding, in order to con-
tribute some useful item of additional knowledge or some
illuminative principle of thought. If more precise definition of
the methods by which we might hope for a really new mental
start is demanded, it must be answered that to attempt a
premature formulation of these would be to court defeat ;
would in fact be fatal. Such an explanation or such a pro-
gramme must be the outcome, not the preliminary, of the
inquiry hoped for. First let us arouse a really active interest in
the subject among those who are intellectually in touch with
the rising generation and who are the virtual if sometimes
the unrecognised leaders in all questions of thought. Then let
us definitely examine the feasibility of an education avowedly
starting from and centering round the principle of ' signifies ' or
' sensifics.'
If we are again tempted to object that this is too
abstruse a subject for any but advanced students, we must
remember that using the words in the wide sense which here
alone applies and is called for, the first mental lesson which
nature teaches the infant is precisely this. She surrounds him
with stimuli and excitations: she prompts him to interpret
these as best he may, and even to revise his translations under
the pressure of pain and discomfort. And she leaves him no
peace till he has learnt himself also to be significant, to 'convey
meaning' and suggest 'sense' as unmistakeably as possible, first
by cries and gestures, then by imitative articulate speech. We
have only to take up her curriculum and carry it on, as in fact
we do in the case of reading, writing, arithmetic, &c. If only
by the impulse and habit of imitation, consensus in language is
soon assured to the early stages of the growing intelligence, and
consensus is the one means by which we may hope to secure it
on the highest intellectual plane. Communication is now so
easy among the intellectual leaders of men that there ought to
be no difficulty in obtaining it when its enormous advantages
are realised. We have already specific studies of acknowledged
value under names like Hermeneutics, Orthology, and Exegesis.
Moreover, although philologists complain that Sematology " the
science of meanings," and Semantics (Bre'al, stfmantique), " the
science of change of meanings " have hardly yet been touched,
the importance of these and of the psychological side of language
SENSE, MEANING AND INTERPRETATION. 201
generally is rapidly coming into greater prominence. And as
foreign scholars themselves admit the special fitness of our
language for studies of this kind, may we not hope that before
long a start may be made by English writers and teachers in
the direction of a more definite and combined effort than has
yet been made, to promote the development of the expressive
and discriminative powers of language, and to give the study
of its main value, ' sense ' or ' meaning ' a more prominent place
in mental training ?
Psychology itself has hardly begun to take or to define
explicitly its true place in schemes of general training. But it
is gradually, however obscurely, making itself felt as a really
potent factor in these. And as questions of ' sensifics ' emerge
from their present chaos, they too must suggest important
changes in educative method.
The subject must however be left here, with one personal
word added. For while this Article deals with virtually new
and untrodden ground, there are only the old modes of language
for expressing it, and moreover, the writer was never trained
either to ' mean ' intellectually well, or to interpret or sensify
adequately and accurately. The subject manifestly needs
analytic and synthetic powers of the highest order ; for while
'sense' is 'common' to the whole mental range, it is so in
various ways, and thus is peculiarly difficult to deal with. At
best, then, this sketch can but serve as the barest introduction
to what seems worthy of ampler treatment by more capable
hands. May any over emphasis or exaggeration in the foregoing
pages be condoned, written as they were in the hope of drawing
attention to the importance of an untried investigation, and
with no prejudgment of questions and issues as yet only indi-
cated or implied. If such inquiry and consequent discussion
follow, the first object of the Article will be attained, whatever
the result may be. As to ultimate bearings and final develop-
ments; if, as things are, it were possible definitely to map these
out, the investigation asked for would by this very achievement,
have proved itself to be superfluous.
SUMMARY OF PART I.
Although the disadvantages and dangers arising from the
present failure of language to express more than roughly what
is termed Meaning or Sense are generally recognised, no syste-
matic attempt to attack these at their root has as yet been
made. Neither the process of interpretation nor the conception
of Meaning have so far received adequate treatment. This
202 V. WELBY: SENSE, MEANING AND INTERPRETATION.
leads to the loss of distinctions valuable for thought, and to a
low average of interpreting power. Attention is here called to
(1) the neglect, especially in education, of any careful study of
the conditions of meaning and its interpretation ; and (2) the
advantages which must accrue from such study.
Much is lost by the present dearth of means of expression
and of training in their use. There is not even a word to
express what happens when a given excitation suggests some-
thing other than itself, thus becoming a ' sign ' and acquiring
'sense.' The word 'sensify' is proposed for this. Works on
science and philosophy and especially on logic and psychology
supply ample witness both conscious and unconscious to the
need for a special study of meaning, which might be called
Sensifics, as no term already in use covers enough ground.
SUMMARY OF PART II.
Such a study so far from being impossible seems indicated
and called for on every side, and might be made not only
practical but attractive even to the youngest child. At present
language betrays, largely from the absence of such training, a
disastrous lack of power to adapt itself to the growing needs of
experience. But this power would soon be generally acquired
as the result of the training here suggested, and would even to
a certain extent follow a general awakening to the importance
of the question.
Definition, though useful in its own sphere, must not be
regarded as a solution of the difficulty. Ambiguity is an
inherent characteristic of language as of other forms of organic
function. Thought may suffer from a too mechanical precision
in speech. Meaning is sensitive to psychological 'climate.'
Both philosophers and men of science complain bitterly of the
evils arising from an inadequate nomenclature and terminology.
We all alike, in fact, suffer and lose by this, and by the endless
disputation which it entails. It rests with education to initiate
the needed ' fresh start.' It is incumbent upon English teachers
and thinkers to lead the way, since our language is admitted
even by foreigners to have peculiar facilities for inquiries and
studies of this kind. Meanwhile it will be something to realise
at once more clearly some potent causes of present obscurity
and confusion, and the directions in which we may hope for
efficient practical remedy.
IV. CHARACTER AND THE EMOTIONS.
BY ALEXANDER F. SHAND.
I.
THE METHOD AND PROBLEM OF ETHOLOGY.
A MAN'S character is by popular thought distinguished from his
intelligence ; as if it were contained in his feelings and will.
Such a one, we say, has a fine intellect but a weak character.
Sometimes again it means the personal force that is in a man :
some are spoken of as having no character. We can use the
word neither in this one-sided, nor in this restricted sense. We
can maintain no preferential attitude to the feelings and will
over the intelligence. For character is both revealed in the
intellect, and partly formed by it, by its quality and habits of
thought, in its cultivation, neglect, and abuse. " The char-
acter of a person," says M. Paulhan, "is in sum that which
characterises him, that which makes him himself, not another 1 ."
It therefore includes the whole mind of man in feelings of
pleasure and pain, in thought and volition; and all three
elements contribute to its formation.
How then is Ethology as the science of character distin-
guishable from general psychology ? The problem of psychology
is on the one hand to analyse all the phases of mental life and
on the other to trace their development in the race and in the
individual. It has to consider how the infant-mind develops
into the child-mind : what may be called the psychology of the
stages of human life is a legitimate portion of its province,
though little has been attempted in it ; the several characters
which belong to infancy, childhood, puberty, youth, maturity,
and old age, and the process by which the one is the outcome of
the other. Psychology is then a general ethology of human
nature, and ethology is necessarily a psychological science. But
the one is wider than the other, and the relation between them
1 Les caractfrres, p. 7.
204 ALEXANDER F. SHAND :
that of a general to a special and comparative science. Human
nature is, as it is said, at bottom identical, not merely in its
cognitive and conative functions, but in its emotions and senti-
ments as well, in its feelings of pleasure and pain generally. It
is this identical human nature which general psychology inves-
tigates. But general psychology does not analyse the different
types of human beings, it does not attempt to classify these, it
does not consider the process of their development, of their
interaction, of their transformations. Once we begin to reflect
with scientific method on the differential mind or character of
men, we pass from general psychology to that special branch of
it which Mill named Ethology.
Comparative psychology in its broadest sense may be said
to consider not merely the differences between men and lower
types of mental life, and the differences in mental development
in the animal kingdom, but also the typical differences of
human beings as such. Ethology is then a branch of com-
parative psychology.
This view of the relation of Ethology to the general science
of mind is in essential agreement with the first account ever I
believe given of their relation by the man who projected and
named the new science. In the chapter on Ethology in his
Principles of Logic, Mill tells us that the science " is a system of
corollaries from Psychology 1 ," and that while Psychology considers
" the elementary laws of mind," Ethology will have to determine
" the kind of character produced, in conformity to those general
laws, by any set of circumstances, physical and moral 2 ." In
other words. Ethology will consider, not the universal character
of men, but the different types of character which are produced,
in part at least, by what we name circumstances. But I think
that Mill to some extent inverted the problem of the new
science. In many cases, we cannot start from circumstances
and deduce the kind of character which would be produced by
them. On the contrary we have to consider first what the type
of character is before we can deduce the effects of those cir-
cumstances. The differences of sex, the differences between
individuals, the stage of life to which they have advanced, have
so decisive an influence that the same set of circumstances
" physical or moral " have different and often opposite effects.
What excites anger in one man will produce fear in another,
what stirs desire in one will leave another indifferent or arouse
aversion, what makes a man indignant will often make a
woman grieve.
But in another direction, the influence of circumstances
1 Vol. II. p. 453. z Ibid. p. 449.
CHARACTER AND THE EMOTIONS. 205
may perhaps be calculated apart from the individual type. We
have to consider their influence both individually and their
cumulative effect as a class. In the latter case, we do not
consider one moment in a man's life, and how he is modified at
that moment; but we take his life as a whole, or some con-
siderable portion of it, and endeavour to trace the cumulative
effect of the class of circumstances which have been predominant.
Over and above the difference in a man's experience, there is a
deep and persistent sameness a rhythm of repeated events
which, by slow and imperceptible accretions, moulds the character.
Some men lead a calm, others an agitated life : some a mono-
tonous, others a varied life : some are habitually unlucky, have
been, at every turn, thwarted by their destiny; others have
found circumstances favourable to them. And if we take
portions of life instead of the whole, we find through the variety
a persistent sameness of experience, which leaves its mark on
men and enables us to classify them the difference between
good and bad education, the contrasts of character in the
different professions, the lawyer, the priest, the soldier, the
schoolmaster presenting distinct types. And wherever we are
dealing with the cumulative effect of a class of experiences it
may be possible to calculate their universal influence apart
from their particular influence on individual types.
With regard to the method of the science, Mill regarded it,
in distinction from psychology, as "altogether deductive 1 ."
In this opinion we must judge him to have been mistaken.
As in the general, so in the comparative science, the analytical
method is of the first importance. We cannot accurately
deduce the modifications which a type of character undergoes
in particular circumstances, unless we make at the outset a
thorough analysis of the type. The finer our discrimination
of its components, the more precise will be our deduction. But
Mill has himself given the corrective to his exclusive insistence
on the deductive method by his recognition of the value of
those empirical generalisations concerning character which
are stored in literature. And this " wisdom of life " we may
derive as much from our own observation and thought as from
books. The science will then be in part inductive; and we
may either start from types of character which have been
reached by this method, and then consider the psychical
connexion of those qualities which have been empirically
found to coexist : or we may start from some central and
type-forming quality, and endeavour to deduce its psychical
effects. For as Goethe remarked 2 , " There is in every character
1 Logic, vol. n. p. 450.
2 Conversations with Eckermann, p. 69.
206 ALEXANDER F. SHAND :
a certain necessity, a sequence, which together with this or
that leading feature, causes secondary features." Or lastly,
without binding ourselves to either method, we may adopt that
which in the situation affords the best promise of success.
With regard to the important question of verification, Mill
remarks that " as in every other deductive science, verification d
posteriori must proceed pari passu with deduction d priori 1 ."
But if we take any type the several qualities of which have been
found empirically to coexist, it is as true to say that the
deduction of the same type from one or more central qualities
is as much a verification of the empirical type, as that the
latter affords a verification of the d priori We do not know
among how many of the qualities of the empirical type there is
a real psychical connexion, under what conditions they invari-
ably coexist, what chance coincidence there may be among them,
how far there may have been looseness and confusion in the
observations : and the psychological deduction may deny the
connexion of some of the qualities while it verities that of
others. And it may discover new qualities which popular
observation, always more or less fragmentary, has overlooked.
Both methods will then to some extent supplement one
another's deficiencies, and furnish some verification of the truth
which each contains.
But a great obstacle stands in the way of any high
degree of exactness in the new science. Psychometry has
not yet advanced far enough to enable us to measure the
strength of the various tendencies of character. Yet, putting
aside the different objects of men's pursuit, we may say that all
the differences of individual minds resolve themselves into
differences of degree among the same identical qualities,
differences in the development and organisation of some, quan-
titative differences in the strength, intensity, persistence of
others, differences in the degree of quickness of the mental
processes : and in the construction of our types we are forced
into loose assertions, that they have much or little, more or less,
a higher or a lower degree, of a quality common to all men.
The recent French works on the subject all labour under this
defect ; and we can only lessen it by throwing our conclusions
into the form, that in proportion to the degree of the quality
will be the truth of the conclusions deduced from it. If we
could experimentally excite any desire or tendency in a human
being, and, as has already been done with some classes of sensa-
tion, measure its relative strength, we might then hope to
construct an exact instead of an inexact science.
1 Logic, p. 455.
CHARACTER AND THE EMOTIONS. 207
Ethology is then in the same position as the moral sciences
in general; but like them it can make a beginning. In the
first place much may be done, and has already been done, in the
way of analysis and classification 1 . We have to discover a
principle for the classification of the leading types of character
as they are found empirically to exist or are embodied in great
works of literature, to test their psychological coherence, and
by degrees to attach to them subsidiary classes dealing with
more specialised and particular tendencies. But human beings
are not petrified types, nor are they ever the mere embodiment
of a single one. And we pass beyond what may be called the
statical problem of the science when we consider the interaction
of different types in the same individual, and the changes which
overtake them in the passage through the different stages and
situations of life. This, the dynamical problem of the science,
is far the most difficult, and the French works to which I have
referred have scarcely touched upon it. But in the first part of
his treatise, M. Paulhan has shown in a masterly way how all
characters may be classified according to the degree in which
" systematic association " of their different tendencies is deve-
loped, how they may be regarded on the one hand as rising
out of a relative isolation of their impulses to higher degrees of
organisation, or on the other as relapsing from perfect harmony
to strife and anarchy.
Now in what precise sense are we to use the term " type " ?
A psychological type, we may say, is not the personification of
an abstract quality, such as we often find among the characters
of Theophrastus, but a complex of qualities possessing an inner
psychical connexion. And these qualities must not be accident-
ally connected by the mere fact of coexistence. They must be
such that given one the character of the rest follow as secondary
results of this primary quality. Where, then, we find in any
empirical type that the various qualities have different centres of
attachment and are not all systematically connected with one, we
have to say that it is the case, and the normal case, of a plurality
of types in the same individual. This is the difference between
the empirical types from which we start and the genuine
psychological types into which we resolve them: the one will
often be, to some extent, an accidental assemblage of qualities,
the others will have always a systematic connexion.
I am here restricting the use of the word more than
M. Paulhan has done. In the second part of his work, which
deals with types produced by the predominance of a single
tendency, while he has analysed them with fine discrimination
1 See especially M. Paulhan'a Les caracteres ; also B. Perez' Le caractdre
de V enfant d Fkomme, and A. FouilleVs Temperament et caractere.
208 ALEXANDER F. SHAND :
and a wide knowledge of life, he has left them standing as so
many isolated particulars, so many petrified abstractions, without
attempting to deduce their secondary effects. And I have felt
the justness of M. FouilleVs criticism upon this part of the
work that it is really an analysis and classification of the
passions and sentiments, not of genuine types. A single
isolated sentiment is a psychological, as well as a practical
impossibility. A dominant tendency affects all sides of the
character, its outcome is a type, it cannot remain a sentiment.
It forms a quality and habits of thought of its own ; it
organises other sentiments as subsidiary to itself; it leaves
its mark on the volition and issues in a characteristic conduct ;
while, at the same time, it inhibits other qualities of thought,
feeling, and conduct, which either are opposed to it or in no
way further its interests. There is then no object in using the
term ' type ' to express an isolated sentiment ; and a ' type '
will mean always a group of qualities either empirically found
to coexist or psychologically deducible from a central quality.
We have seen that a cardinal problem of the science of
character is to construct a classification of the various senti-
ments, emotions, and appetites, or since these may all be
regarded as 'tendencies,' to construct a classification of ten-
dencies. Without such a classification we could not proceed in
any orderly way in the presentation of the various types. We
should have to take them at haphazard as they were suggested.
Any systematic treatment of them would be impossible ; and
everywhere we should be apt to overlook important varieties.
But all the types of character are not due to the diffused
effects of concrete tendencies. As M. Paulhan has seen, there
is a hierarchy of types which is the outcome of the degree to
which " systematic association " is carried. But beside this
important difference between human beings in the mere form
of their character, there are other cardinal differences which
like it are independent of the particular sentiments, desires,
and interests which may be found in a man. There is in
the first place the degree of rapidity or slowness of the mental
processes. Everyone is struck by this difference between one
man and another. It is an empirical fact that we have to start
from, and is found in conjunction with other qualities which
constitute strongly contrasted empirical types. They are familiar
to us under the popular titles of the Nervous and Phlegmatic
Temperaments. The second important difference is that between
what is popularly spoken of as the depth of one man's sentiments
and the superficiality of another's, what we should call, in
psychological language, a difference in the relative persistence
of tendencies. How obvious again is this difference, shown
CHARACTER AND THE EMOTIONS. 209
perhaps in its most marked form in the contrast between the
mutable character of the child and the relative consistency of
the man ; but also reappearing among individuals, and between
the characters of savage and civilized peoples. Any man of some
imagination and experience of life can see rising before him two
empirical types in marked contrast with one another, connected
with these fundamental differences. Lastly there is the difference
in the intensity of the feelings of pleasure and pain. We must
put aside those feelings of pain which are connected with injury
to the organism or which are the result of organic disease or
functional disturbance. We have only to consider pleasures or
pains connected with what we call sentiments, passions, or
emotions. Now it is a fact of experience that some individuals
and perhaps certain peoples, as for example the southern
Italian, live at a white heat of feeling, that others by contrast
are cold and impassive, and that others again are apathetic and
indifferent. This difference of intensity is also exemplified in
the characters of the child and the man : the eager and ardent
feelings of a bright child, the intense hopes, the keen disap-
pointments, contrasted with those blunted sensibilities to which
most men come in middle life. This ardent temperament, as it
is popularly called, seems also to be named the Bilious by
those who are fond of classifying men according to their com-
plexion, when it is found coexisting with black hair and eyes
and an olive or sallow skin.
Another general difference between men is the difference
shown in the strength of their tendencies. But it is, in greater
part, derived from those differences which we have already
considered. Thus, in proportion as an emotion is intense up
to a certain point, is its present strength to control thought or
action increased ; its indirect or after-strength, in proportion
as it is persistent; in proportion as it is highly organised, is
supported by other sentiments and has a compact body of
systematised thought connected with it, in that proportion is
both its present and future strength increased: and its total
strength is derived from these factors in conjunction with the
force of habit.
Now with regard to all these most general differences
between men degree of organisation of character, rapidity
of mental process, the relative persistence and intensity of
the feelings, their meaning when we merely recognise and
accept them as empirical facts is quite ambiguous ; and what
we have first to do is to render it precise. For instance we do
not mean that a man who discovers a superior quickness of
apprehension and rapidity of thought has the same rapidity
at all times, whatever the subject-matter of thought, whether
M. 14
210 ALEXANDER F. SHAND :
or not he is accustomed or suited to it. And a man whose
sentiments are superficial does not show the same degree of
inconstancy in all of them. Again, many men who are quick in
their own field of research, often because of the fine organisation
of their attention, are slow to apprehend what is outside. All
these cardinal differences have to be carefully analysed, before
they are ready for scientific treatment. We have next to deduce
the type of character which is produced by these general differ-
ences, or, if we prefer to take the problem on the opposite side,
to consider the psychological connexion of the qualities of the
empirical types connected with them. And lastly we have to
attempt the problem which Mill put first, to consider all the
modifications which are produced in the type by the circum-
stances of life. But to carry this out systematically we require
to classify them ; and in the first place, what do Circumstances
mean ?
Popular thought is dominated by the dualism of Character
and Circumstance. Circumstance is regarded as something
external to Character and acting upon it from the outside.
But the character of a man includes his thought and experience
as well as his emotions and will. And a circumstance which is
not experienced is from our point of view nothing at all.
Only so far as it is experienced has it any influence upon
character. For instance if we are in danger and know nothing
of the fact, we are unaffected by it. Not until we know
it, and interpret the fact to mean 'danger,' has it any etho-
logical effect. It may have other effects, and our life may
be sacrificed in consequence; but no change is produced in
our character, unless it is transmitted through the form of an
experience. And even the circumstance of good or ill health
has only import for our science as change in the ' feeling-tone '
of our organic sensations, producing those changes of mood which
seem often so causeless.
But circumstance regarded as a part of experience is already
a part of character. In that case what becomes of our antithesis
between them ? The antithesis must fall between one part of
character and the remainder : experience on the one hand, and
pleasure, pain, desire and volition on the other. But how can
we carry through this distinction ? A danger that we experience
is not merely perceived, but our perception of it is qualified with
pain or pleasure, and is itself a tendency, and in the broadest
sense conation. Still if we are to take it as all this, the anti-
thesis between circumstance and character loses its point. For
it is precisely the alterations of pleasure and pain and the
changes of conation, and even the kind of thought aroused
which we have to trace to the specific circumstance : and if it
CHARACTER AND THE EMOTIONS. 211
is to be interpreted as at once all of them, they cannot be
regarded as its effects. The interesting question for us is,
why the same circumstance objectively considered produces
at one time and in one man pleasure, in another, pain, and
leaves a third indifferent; why in the one its tendency is so
inappreciable that it may be neglected, and in another so
far-reaching that he is observed henceforth to be a changed
character : and our method of* answering the question lies in
determining the man before attempting to consider how he is
influenced by circumstance. We must then preserve in some
sense the antithesis; and it will help us to effect this if we
distinguish those two points of view which to confuse consti-
tutes what has been called the Psychologist's Fallacy. A
circumstance as it is interpreted by the type itself may be
very different from what it is interpreted by us from the
outside. What we name a temptation may be no tempta-
tion to a given individual. What then have we to consider?
We have to consider how this fact for us which we give this
name to, when it impinges on an individual as "a foreign
something," will be interpreted by him and will modify him.
We have first of all to give it its objective meaning before we
can consider its subjective meaning for him. The antithesis is
then between circumstance as we objectively think of it and
name it and his specific character into which it is translated, in
which it is transformed and upon which it works. We have to
classify wealth and poverty, social position, power, success and
failure, society and solitude, health and sickness, climate, family
life, training and education, government, the different professions
and modes of life, kindness, neglect and cruelty, according to their
universal or objective meaning, in order that we may interpret
their subjective meaning and influence when they form part of
the character of an individual. And the individual himself may
adopt both attitudes to his own experiences. ' These circum-
stances in which I am placed for which men envy me, which
they regard as exceptional and fortunate, concerning which they
would not listen to my complaint, are felt by me so differently
that their meaning is transformed, their felicific influence
reversed, and I name them my misfortune.' And it is in
this way that the individual must himself interpret the anti-
thesis between his character and circumstance. He thinks of
his circumstances objectively, as something outside himself,
according to their universal name and meaning, this he takes
as the cause, and their subjective meaning and influence as an
effect due to his specific constitution and character.
Now we have to classify circumstances, in order that we
may subject a type in an orderly way to their influence. With-
142
212 ALEXANDER F. SHAND :
out this classification we should have to take circumstances at
haphazard as they presented themselves. We should have no
principle to guide us in our search for them, and consequently
we should be more liable to overlook important varieties. And
in this classification we must follow the objective and universal
meaning of these circumstances, in order that we may trace the
subjective meaning which they assume in particular types and
all that is involved in this for' the character.
Now supposing we could accomplish this statical part of the
science, that we obtained a classification both of those cardinal
differences between men on which their typical characters
depend, as well as of the circumstances which affect them ;
and that we were able to achieve the more difficult under-
taking, to deduce our types and to follow out the changes
produced in them by circumstances, our knowledge of the
type would then be more complete than our knowledge of any
individual. In the best biographies, in the most finished
character-studies in fiction, there is always an incompleteness.
We have after all seen only one side of a man. How many
other tendencies which we have never detected in him might
have been evoked in different circumstances; and that set of
the character which the general trend of his experience has
imperceptibly formed would have been different or opposite in
an altered mode of life.
Now in dealing with types instead of with individuals, we
are not confined to the one-sided experiences of a single life.
A type has many biographies : and with an essentially complete
inventory of circumstance, we could subject it to the whole
gamut of human experience. However distant such an ideal
may seem, it is not inherently impossible, and by degrees we
shall approximate to it.
And while the study of a type has this advantage over the
study of an individual, it has another not less important. We
can sometimes foresee the feeling and behaviour which a given
experience will produce in one whom we know. But there are
circumstances the influence of which we cannot foresee. How
surprised we often are at the marriages which our friends make 1
Why should that woman have excited the passion of love in a
man who had hitherto been insensible to feminine attractions ?
We may know in general terms that she must have some beauty
or charm for him. But we sometimes cannot find the charm or
the beauty. It lies hidden in his own experience of her, and
in the meaning which his individual character gives to this
experience. He can seldom point it out himself. This love-
exciting experience is not to be detached or isolated; it suffuses,
all his thought and feeling in which she is concerned.
CHARACTER AND THE EMOTIONS. 213
Thus, while we can understand the general experiences on
which, in the abstract, the romantic passion depends, we cannot
foresee, in many cases, the particular form which these must
assume to arouse it in a given individual. But if we reduce
both individuals and their circumstances to types, it should
be far easier to deduce the influence of the latter, than when we
are considering the perplexing interaction of individual minds
and their actual experiences.
A great novelist has an instinctive perception of the feeling
and conduct which will be produced in the characters he
represents in the circumstances in which he places them.
And if, dealing with far more complex characters and ex-
periences than we have to consider in the first instance, he
is able to reach conclusions that we accept as truth, our
problem should be a much simpler one, had we not to
combine his gift of intuitive perception with the power of
psychological analysis and deduction.
But if they are in the right who hold that we have a
spontaneity of will which cannot be calculated, because it freely
chooses between alternatives without subjection to the stronger,
then it must be admitted that, so far as this power is operative,
it will in practice modify the truth of our conclusions. But as
in the physical sciences we have to assume that no miracles
occur, so here we must assume that there are no moral miracles,
none, at least, in the sense that a complete knowledge would
not explain. And at the most acts of free choice are compara-
tively rare events in life. They do not occur in our common
conative experiences. The situation must be complicated.
There must be a conflict of alternatives; and thought must
not be capable of reconciling them in a larger interest; nor
of effecting a compromise between them ; nor of procrastinating
the choice. They must persist after thought as opposite incom-
patible tendencies ; and, through their continual interaction, one
of them must not be submerged. But both in conflict must
wring from us that choice between them which is to decide
the issue.
Now rare as any volitions must be which fulfil all these
conditions, if they are as they are interpreted, they may have
profound influence. But it would still be of importance to know
what an individual or a type would become in any given con-
ditions if it did not or could not exercise the supreme prerogative
of the will.
In the remainder of the present article we shall be engaged
in the field of general psychology. Before we classify the types
of character we must know what the emotions and sentiments
are, which, in their difference among different men, account for a
214 ALEXANDER F. SHAND :
large class of these types. The psychology of the emotions,
notwithstanding some recent advance, is still perhaps the most
backward part of the science. It does not furnish us with the
systematic theory we require, and, in the attempt to supply this,
the truth of the statement will become more evident.
II.
THE ORGANISATION OF THE EMOTIONS IN THE SENTIMENTS.
The attempt to put order into the chaos of our feelings, to
grasp or classify them under any intelligible principle not
Darren or useless, has Dot so far been attended with much
success. The indefiniteness of many of our emotions, the way
in which other feelings blend confusedly in them and in which
they blend in more complex sentiments, the endless shades
of difference between them, make their systematic treatment
difficult. Appetites, sentiments, emotions, affections, passions,
these terms occur to us as referring presumably to the subject-
matter of our enquiry ; but we have no clear idea how far these
terms are synonymous, how far they mark important differ-
ences : nor indeed what are the important differences among
our feelings, what is the productive principle on which
they are to be classified. The psychology of the feelings can
give us no answer to these questions : it has long remained
the most unprofitable part of the science. As Prof. James
remarks : " its sub-divisions are to a great extent either
fictitious or unimportant and... its pretences to accuracy are
a sham 1 ": nowhere, he adds, are we given "a central point of
view, or a deductive or generative principle 2 ."
M. Paulhan has advanced beyond this point. He regards
the feelings from their conative side, and attempts to classify
them as 'tendencies 3 .' His classification follows, not the
quality or complexity of the feeling, but the nature of the
object. They fall into a series according to the degree of its
development. At the lowest stage we have those tendencies
which refer to the organism or to any of its parts ; next those
which belong to the life of the mind, to imagination, thought,
and sentiment ; higher up those which systematise the life-
interests of individuals, egoism, altruism ; on the next plane,
those which have a social object love of family, class, country,
etc. ; and lastly those which have a supra-social object love of
perfection, truth, beauty, God.
1 Prin. of Psy. vol. II. p. 448. 2 Ibid.
3 See his classification on p. 115 of Les caract&res.
CHARACTER AND THE EMOTIONS. 215
But this classification tells us nothing of the character of
the feelings themselves, 'about which we are in so much
perplexity ; and before we come to deal with it, we must
consider the great and important distinctions among them,
above all the distinction between the emotions and the senti-
ments which furnishes that " central point of view," or " gene-
rative principle of which we stand in need."
There are feelings of pleasure and pain which we localise in
some part of the organism. They are commonly called bodily
pains and pleasures. There are other feelings which are not
localised in any object, but which in distinction are felt
for an object, affection for our friends, love of country,
interest in business. The feeling of pleasure felt in the
society of our friend is not localised in his body, as our own
organic pleasures are localised in our own. The interest in our
business is connected with and refers to this object, but is not
felt and localised in the business premises and the events
occurring in them. A feeling of pleasure or pain is either
localised in our own body or it is localised nowhere : it cannot
pass out of ourselves and be felt in another object : the feeling
which belongs to that object, if it have any, belongs to it
exclusively, and we can only think of or indirectly represent it.
Now the first class of feelings which are localised in our
own body have no object in any proper sense of the term.
They are not like our affections, feelings for an object, but
feelings in an object. Before a pleasure or pain can have
an object, it must first be incorporated in a perception
or thought which necessarily has one, not as the object of
that thought or perception, but as part of its subjective
attitude to its object. My sentiment for my friend is not a
mere feeling of pleasure. The feeling of pleasure is connected
with a complex thought, the thought of my friend, and
qualifies it as a pleasant thought. Both this thought
and its 'feeling-tone' refer to and have as their object
my friend. And as the thought is not localised, so neither
is the feeling which qualifies it. But the bodily pain or
pleasure is localised, and qualifies a percept or an image, not
our perception or thought : it is always somewhere, while
the sentiment is nowhere.
Now there is a mixed class of feelings which share in the
character of both these classes. It includes all our appetites
and emotions which have risen above the instinctive stage of a
blind craving or impulse, and have attained to a certain
intensity of feeling. Actual hunger, in 'the adult, is on the one
hand a pain localised in the viscera and on the other arouses
the desire for food. On the one hand it is a pain qualifying
216 ALEXANDER F. SHAND :
organic sensation, on the other it is a pain and pleasure
qualifying the thought of food, a pleasure in the thought of
the presence of food, a pain in the thought of its actual absence.
In the one it is localised ; in the other it is not. In the one it
is an object ; in the other it has an object. It is the same with
our emotions which have reached a certain point of intensity.
It is not that the pleasurable or painful organic sensations
which we commonly experience in an emotion themselves
constitute it, as Prof. James appears to maintain. For fear and
anger qualify our thought-attitude to an object beside de-
pressing or stimulating the functioning of our organs and
producing painful or pleasurable organic sensations. I fear or
am angry with you ; my pain or pleasure suffuses and pene-
trates my thought of you, and is not all localised in my
internal organs. And my emotion may become so faint that
this bodily concomitant disappears. There might then be some
dispute as to whether we should any longer call it an emotion,
but about the fact that there are feelings which we do not
localise there can be no dispute. Can we localise the moderate
degree of hope which as cheerful people is the staple of our
lives ? If we can, that is not our hope of the favourable event.
The essential factor of this is that an unlocalised thought
must be qualified with a quite specific pleasure ; the accidental
factor is that this mental pleasure is accompanied with a change
of organic sensation itself qualified as pleasant. Again, love
may be raised to such an intensity of passion that it is distinctly
accompanied with a bodily localisation ; but normally the
sentiment as shown in calm affection for our friends is purely
mental and the state of our bodily sensations we do not connect
with it.
I now come to the verbal question of the use and meaning
of the terms. Joy, hope, despondency, regret, disappointment,
are commonly called emotions, and we have to maintain that
either, at every degree, they have a bodily localisation, or when
they cease to have this accompaniment to cease to call them
by the same name, unless we reject this accompaniment as
unessential. If we are no longer to call them emotions when
they no longer have this, what other term can we apply ? The
term sentiment has another and more correct employment ; and
beside there is an important difference between them. We
cannot speak of an affection of hope ; and passion at once
suggests the highest degree of intensity. We should call an
emotion a passion when it has reached such a point of intensity
that a person loses self-control : thus we speak of the passion of
grief and the passion of rage. It therefore seems best to use
the term 'emotion' to include joy, hope, despondency, and other
CHARACTER AND THE EMOTIONS. 217
like feelings, however faint their intensity ; and while they
still remain emotions at their highest degree, this degree is
more definitely expressed by the term 'passion.'
The terms sentiment, interest, and affection do not seem to
mark any important difference. We speak of the sentiment of
justice, truth, and the moral sentiments generally, of the
sentiment of friendship ; but of affection for our friends, rather
than sentiment, and of interest in our health or business, rather
than either: the difference turning upon what we are not
considering at present, the different character of the object.
We shall then use the term sentiment in a broad sense to
include what with more propriety we call affections or interests :
and we now turn to the distinction between this great and
important class of the feelings and the emotions.
The difference between our emotions and sentiments lies
in the different growth of their organisation. And while the
latter are highly organised, the former may subsist at a stage
of relative isolation and simplicity. But the emotions tend
always to build themselves into more stable and complex
feelings: and these are the sentiments, which in their turn
become the centres of attachment of the organised emotions.
Now the sentiments and interests on the one hand and the
organised emotions on the other form two complementary
classes. Compare friendship, cruelty, hope, fear, gluttony,
anger, amorousness, lust, envy, love of knowledge or art,
regret, despondency, self-interest. Do not they perplex us
because they are at cross purposes, and are grouped without
any principle of classification ? Some are qualities of action or
conduct, as cruelty ; others are sentiments, like friendship, love
of knowledge or art, self-interest ; others are appetites, as lust.
Others again, as hope, fear, anger, envy, regret, despondency,
are emotions. Some of the latter, as fear and anger, may occur
in isolation, and not organised in a more complex feeling.
Others, like hope, despondency, regret, disappointment, satis-
faction, elation, envy, always imply some pre-formed sentiment
to which they are attached : we cannot hope for an event in
which we are not at the same time interested. The peculiar
organisation into which all emotions are growing is one in
which they are to occur as modes or phases in the life-history
of the sentiments. They are in a sense adjectival and qualify
a more stable feeling. Whereas the specific organisation of our
sentiments, affection for our friends, the home-sentiment, and
every sentiment that we can use the term ' love' to express, as
love of knowledge, art, goodness, love of comfort, and all our
interests, as interest in our health, fortune and profession,
interest in books, collections, self-interest, these, so far from
218 ALEXANDER F. SHAND :
being mere adjectives and qualifying other feelings, are the
relatively stable centres to which the first attach themselves,
the substantives of these adjectives, the complex wholes which
contain in their possible life-history the entire gamut of the
emotions.
In the love of an object or interest in it, there is pleasure
in presence and desire in absence, hope or despondency in
anticipation, fear in the expectation of its loss, injury, or
destruction, surprise or astonishment in its unexpected changes,
anger when the course of our interest is opposed or frustrated,
elation when we triumph over obstacles, satisfaction or dis-
appointment in attaining our desire, regret in the loss, injury,
or destruction of the object, joy in its restoration or improve-
ment, and admiration for its superior quality or excellence.
And this series of emotions occurs, now in one order, now in
another, in every sentiment of love or interest, when the appro-
priate conditions are present.
Now consider how these same emotions repeat themselves,
often with opposite objects, in the life-history of every senti-
ment which we name dislike or hatred. There is pain instead
of pleasure in the presence of the object, desire to be rid of it,
to escape from its presence, except we can injure it or lower its
quality, hope or despondency according to the chances of
accomplishing this desire, elation or disappointment with
success or failure, anger or fear when it is thrust upon us and
persists, surprise when the unexpected occurs, regret or grief,
not in its loss or injury, but in its presence and prosperous
state.
We may perhaps say that the hatred of inanimate objects
is rare, that this sentiment is reserved rather for human beings:
but it is frequently met with in that lesser degree we name
' dislike.' We take dislike to places, to sounds, to sights, and
even to names. The musician hates bad music, the man of taste,
the architecture of our great towns, the vulgar decoration of
the houses, and their ' Victorian furniture.' In our dislike to a
place, desire is limited to escaping from it, and by disparagement
to lower it in the estimation of others, hope is excited by the
prospect of living elsewhere, despondency at the prospect of
remaining. And this may arouse in us an impotent rage:
and at the thought that years, perhaps a lifetime, may be spent
and spoilt in the hated locality we shudder and fear takes us.
Consider too how school-boys deface the lesson-books which
they hate, and how they would like if they dared to destroy
them.
And these same emotions common to our love of whatever
object become complicated with new differentiations in the love
CHARACTER AND THE EMOTIONS. 219
or hatred of a human being. Pleasure in the presence of the
object, desire for it in absence, for the preservation of its
existence, for its superior quality, anger or fear when it is
threatened, hope, admiration, disappointment, regret, recur, and
constitute the love of the object, of its well-being; but the
specific emotion of sympathy is differentiated. The nearest
approach to this in our love of inanimate things, or those great
constructions of our thought, business, knowledge, art, morality,
is the interest we take in the continuance of the object, in its
improvement, or heightened quality, and, conversely, in the
pain which any loss of quality, injury, or destruction occasions.
Now if we supposed the object were self-conscious and took
pleasure in its own continuance and improvement, and felt pain
in its injury or lowered quality, there would then occur a
sympathy or identical feeling excited in two conscious beings
in reference to the same object. Thus where human beings are
concerned, there necessarily arise coincidences of this sort
which, multiplying in those common situations where danger
or injury is present, develop the emotion of sympathy as a new
component of the love of the object. And in the process of
development, pity acquires a qualitative flavour distinguishing
it from the pain felt in the injury or destruction of inanimate
objects.
In the next place, the pleasure felt for the excellence or
superiority of an object that we love, develops into the new
emotions of respect and reverence : respect where there is a
superior power or quality which fails to win admiration,
reverence where this superior quality is recognised as moral.
And both admiration and something of fear blend in this
emotion and give to it a flavour and specific quality of its
own.
Lastly consider how the regret or sorrow that we feel when
we have injured any object that we are interested in or love,
where human beings are concerned, and our action is not
accidental but the outcome of anger, or the change from love
to hatred, differentiates the new emotions of remorse and
repentance. Repentance is no mere revival of this same
universal sorrow or regret ; it has acquired a character of its
own with the blame that we pass on ourselves, the futile effort
to recall and undo the past, the hope and desire and resolution
to make the future different. And remorse too has a character
of its own with the fear and even horror that blend with it,
the regret for what has been done without the hope and resolu-
tion of repentance, but rather with a deep despondency or
despair which sees no possible escape.
Passing from love to hatred, sympathy is replaced by
220 ALEXANDER F. SHAND :
antipathy, when the object of the sentiment is a human being
or one of the lower animals. Antipathy is not merely the
universal pleasure in the injury or lowered quality of any
object that we hate, not the universal pain in its continuance,
advancement and prosperity, but with the blend of the repre-
sented pleasure and happiness of another with our own pain
felt in his happiness, with his represented pain and misfortune
and our own pleasure felt in his misfortune, with his repre-
sented desire and our own aversion for its satisfaction, with all
his emotions awakening in ourselves a contrary emotion, there
arise the new emotions of antipathy, of pleasure in pain and
pain in pleasure, each with its own distinct quality. That
ignoble pain that we feel in the prosperity, the superior quality,
excellence, high station or power, of anyone that we hate, has
something quite specific, and has obtained from mankind the
name of Envy. It has its converse in the malicious joy in the
degradation or downfall of the hated one and the fiendish
delight which this sometimes assumes where the degradation is
extreme.
Lastly consider how the common desire to injure or destroy
any hated object becomes, where a human being is concerned by
whom we have been injured, the peculiar emotion of revenge.
We have now to observe how the same universal emotions
common to our love of whatever object reappear with further
complications in the love of ourselves, in our self-interest, and
produce still new differentiations.
The pleasure felt in the superiority of the object, the respect
for it when it is a person, becomes in reference to self the
specific emotion of pride, easily distinguishable in mere feeling
from this disinterested pleasure. And admiration differentiates
into another emotion as specific as pride where we take up a
different attitude to ourselves. When we regard ourselves
from the outside, from the point of view of a spectator, and
admire any superiority or excellence that we seem to possess,
this self-admiration has so distinct a flavour that the term pride
wholly fails to express it and we name it vanity. This is the
true distinction between them. It is not that vanity is attached,
as it is sometimes said, to smaller and trivial points of super-
iority and pride to more important qualities, for a man may be
as vain of his genius or of his great offices, as a woman of her
beauty, and pride may attach itself as much to some useless
physical dexterity, as to great talents or great wealth ; but it is
that over and above the qualitative difference of the emotions
and their consequent difference of physical expression, though
their objects ma} 7 be the same in any two instances, they always
think of them differently. When vanity is excited we always
CHARACTER AND THE EMOTIONS. 221
regard ourselves indirectly and from the outside, as we should
appear to a spectator, in terms of visual sensation. Hence the
looking-glass is the emblem and symbol of vanity. But pride
always thinks of itself subjectively and from the inside, without
caring for the appearance of the thing. It does not embody the
thought of itself in an image which must be regarded as if it
were some other self.
Pride, though it is often, is not necessarily more independent
in its self-judgment than vanity. A man's pride in himself
ordinarily grows with the recognition that his superiority meets
with from others ; and some plain people are vain of a beauty
or attraction which seems to obtain no corroboration from
outside opinion. But from the fact that a vain man always
considers the appearance of the thing it follows that he attaches
more importance to this than to the reality. Hence the
tendency of the vain man to become a boaster or braggadocio,
and to lie for the sake of the appearance. While the proud
man, priding himself on the reality and not on the appearance
of possessing it, likes to be sure of the fact, and would by such a
make-belief be humiliated by the consciousness that he did not
possess it.
Two other distinctive emotions are developed from this
common basis of pain in the inferiority of any object that we
love, corresponding to the pleasure felt in its superiority. They
are the opposites of pride and vanity. The pain in our own
inferiority, regarded as an object of our own thought, not of the
perception of any one else, has developed the specific quality
that we name humiliation, the flavour of which we liken to a
bitter taste. It is the opposite of pride and adopts the same
attitude to its object. But when the inferiority is not thought
of for itself, but from the point of view of its appearance to a
spectator, it develops the specific emotion of shame. How
certainly this attitude is taken up by the shame-faced person is
shown by the instinctive effort to hide the face. Shame is then
the direct opposite of vanity and assumes the same attitude to
its object. It is usually connected with a quasi-moral inferiority,
as with acts of indecency. On the other hand, any action which
makes us appear foolish or ridiculous arouses the emotion when
we are thinking of the appearance ; while to the proud man,
regarding his inferiority directly, mute rage at his humiliation.
Why the emotion should be excited by any accidental exposure
of the person may be explained by the fact that anything which
shows what animals we are at once excites the ridicule or
contempt of the spectator. For we are agreed to throw dust
in one another's eyes, and conceal this unpleasant fact. Hence
when that is exposed which is habitually kept hidden we publish
222 ALEXANDER F. SHAND :
our inferiority, and shame, the opposite of vanity, is like it
engrossed by the appearance of the thing, not by the thing
itself This is witnessed to by the fact that people do without
shame in the dark, or when they cannot be seen, what they
would blush to be seen doing. The act is the same in both
cases, only its appearance is different.
Now the pleasure in superiority, the pain in inferiority are
only differentiated into pride and humiliation, or vanity and
shame, when the object of thought is oneself. They are always
egoistic emotions. Even when we take a legitimate pride in
our children or our friends, it is always because they are ours.
If they were another's, we might respect or admire disin-
terestedly, but we could not have excited in us the specific
emotion of pride. We may admire the greatness of our country,
the talent of our children or friends, but when this emotion
blends with pride, it is because we are thinking of self and
relating others to ourselves.
Lastly the desire for our own superiority is called ambition,
and, whether it adopts the attitude of pride or vanity, always
has this reference to self. But, like pride, it may blend with
more generous emotions, and attach itself to any object closely
connected with us. In the ambition to promote the greatness
of one's country, or to advance the welfare of mankind, self
has contracted to an insignificant factor. Instead of including
others in the microcosm of self, it includes self in the macrocosm
of the world. Yet even, when the emotion of ambition is
present, there is always the tacit condition that self is to be the
agent in the great undertaking.
We have seen how, in the life-history of every sentiment, the
same emotions repeat themselves under the appropriate con-
ditions, that where the object of our love or hatred is self or
others, and in some degree the lower animals, they are further
complicated and develop new emotions : and that the funda-
mental distinction between the emotions on the one hand and
the sentiments on the other, and the principle on which their
organisation rests, is that the one are merely adjectival and
attach themselves, or more correctly blend as temporary
qualifications in those more complex and persistent feelings
which they both serve to develop and into which they are
absorbed ; while the others are the substantival and persistent
sentiments which include them, and which in each particular
case suffuse with something of their own flavour the emotion
which happens to be excited in them.
Those who still think according to the atomistic methods of
the older psychologists will fall back upon their familiar argu-
ment that the sentiments, as they have been here interpreted, are
CHARACTER AND THE EMOTIONS. 223
after all only the name of the group of emotions which are
associated in them. The day is past when such an argument
could persuade men. So far from the actual sentiment
being the mere emotion which is actual, or any group of
emotions that may be recalled in memory, it is always a
development out of them and of the special pleasures and pains
of sense, and never their "literal resuscitation, revival or
reinstatement." For it is with the emotions as with the
sensations of the palate, they cannot unite, and remain outside
of one another unaffected by their union. When they combine
their quality is changed, a new flavour is distinguished which is
not merely the sum of the separate flavours which preceded it.
And so when the sentiment is developed out of sensations of
pleasure and pain and specific emotions, it has acquired out of
the blending of so many experiences a flavour and a character of
its own. Have not the love of good living, the love of honour,
the love of a friend, the love of man for a woman, each one its
own specific quality ? When we recall pur love, how many
memories blend confusedly in it, how many hopes and dis-
appointments which take no distinct shape, the ardent desires
of the past, the triumph or failure, the angry passions, regret,
remorse or shame ; and these make the sentiment what it is,
which in its turn suffuses the distinct memories and the actual
emotions with its own flavour and fragrance.
Yet, though Love is always a Sentiment, we find it, in the
different accounts of the emotions, classed among them. And
what leads to this confusion is that when we use the term, Love,
we commonly mean a feeling of considerable intensity. But as
Emotion, in its popular use, also suggests a high degree of
intensity, what more natural than to call love an emotion ? We
should not make this mistake with the term, Interest, though
interest and love belong to the same class of feeling, because
interest suggests a low degree of intensity. And with a low
degree of intensity, there goes a loss of any appreciable "somatic
resonance " : and we think of the sentiment as a feeling of low
degree 1 . Hence if we had to decide between calling Interest an
emotion or a sentiment, we should choose the latter. Now the
terms, Sentiment and Emotion, are no doubt applied with great
looseness in the popular use, and if we take the difference of
intensity which is sometimes meant, and make that the ground
of our distinction, we confuse the important difference, we
emphasise that which is trivial. We must call love, hatred,
fear, anger, hope, despondency, regret, emotions at one degree
of intensity and sentiments at another. But popular use itself
1 See, for instance, Prof. Ladd's distinction between the emotions and
sentiments, Psychology, Descriptive and Explanatory, pp. 543-4.
224 ALEXANDER F. SHAND :
suggests a better interpretation. When it calls the love of
justice, truth, beauty, and goodness, sentiments, we are reminded
of the higher development of their thought. And if we follow
out their organisation on the side of feeling, we see that the
sentiments are the ground of the organised emotions, the reason
why we feel this or that emotion in these circumstances ; that
the difference of intensity is a wholly fallacious guide that any
sentiment may be raised to the intensity of a passion by the
emotions which are excited in it without ceasing to be a senti-
ment, and that any emotion may sink to the lowest degree of
feeling without by any possibility becoming a sentiment. And
as regards the unorganised emotions these are distinguished
from the sentiments by their relative simplicity, isolation, and
independence, and by the function which they are destined to
play whenever they become organised.
The sentiment, as interpreted from the outside, is the thought
of an object, as a permanent thing or quality. While the emotion,
where it has a thought, refers to some change or event, not to a
permanent quality. As the relatively stable thought of the
sentiment is modified, and becomes, for instance, the thought
of this man whom I like as injured or insulted, or this thing
which I like as broken or lost, so an emotion is excited and
merged in the sentiment ; and the emotion is to the sentiment
as this change of thought is to the identity of thought on which
it rests. And this identity of thought which refers to the same
object with its feeling-tone and conative tendency, which persists
through the emotional phases excited in it, is the sentiment.
III.
THE CLASSIFICATION OF THE FEELINGS.
We have come to recognise that Feelings may be classed
according to the degree or character of their organisation.
Some are relatively unorganised and isolated. This class may
include pleasures and pains of special or organic sensation, all
our appetites, and some of our emotions, on the other hand all
of them may rise into the alternative class of the organised
feelings. To which class any particular feeling belongs is
determined by our answer to the question whether it is or is
not assimilated by any performed sentiment. For instance we
say that the child loves novelty ; but this implies a confusion
of our mental attitude with the child's. We should say that the
child is pleased by new objects. The pleasure which he takes
in them, the instinctive impulse to turn away from anything that
CHARACTER AND THE EMOTIONS. 225
has grown familiar, is the germ of the love of novelty which he
afterwards develops when he can distinguish the abstract quality
from its concrete embodiment. Then the sentiment of novelty
organises and assimilates the particular pleasure felt in new
objects, and becomes complicated with a variety of emotions of
which these isolated experiences could not become the vehicle.
As has been remarked before it is only the more primitive and
elementary emotions which can subsist at a stage of relative
isolation. While anger, fear, surprise, admiration, and even
sympathy, may occur before the varieties of love or hatred
have grown out of them ; hope, despondency, regret, disappoint-
ment, envy, revenge, jealousy, always imply a pre-formed interest
in the object. Again, those specific emotions which are developed
in our self-love, pride, vanity, ambition, humiliation, shame,
seem to presuppose the thought of self and interest in self. I
doubt whether they would be possible in early childhood before
the conception of self had been formed. On the other hand
sympathy may be evoked at the sight of suffering before an
interest in the individual has arisen, or in our fellow-creatures
generally.
The second class of the organised feelings contains the two
sub-classes of the organised appetites, emotions, and specific
pleasures and pains of sense, and, on the other hand, all the
sentiments and interests. These classes with their subdivisions
include all the varieties of feeling. The subdivision of the first
class we have already seen, and the enumeration of all the
emotions of the second class would not be difficult. I have not
pretended to give a complete account of them, but it will now
be easy to classify any one that has been overlooked in reference
to its function in the sentiment ; whereas before, with the per-
plexing mixture of qualities of conduct, sentiments, emotions,
undiscriminated, and no principle for their distinction or
classification at hand, we had a confused feeling of wandering
about a pathless forest which could not be intelligibly surveyed
from any point of view.
It is when we come to the subdivision of the third class
the sentiments and interests that our difficulties recommence ;
and this part of our enquiry must be deferred. To enumerate
them all would be impossible. They are as innumerable as the
objects to which our sentiments are attached. We can only
hope to subdivide this class into general sub-classes. But here
what is to be the regulating principle, are we to be guided by
the character of the objects or the character of the sentiments ?
Apart from their difference of degree, the only important
difference that we have found between sentiments is in the
content of their emotions which in the love or hatred of human
M. 15
226 A. F. SHAND: CHARACTER AND THE EMOTIONS.
beings to one another develop new differentiations. But we
have not yet remarked that the entire gamut of the emotions
is actualised as a matter of fact in the life-history of but few
sentiments. Experiences are ordinarily too monotonous for
that; and the conditions on which their occurrence depends
have not all been present in the life of an individual in
reference to the same object. Hence the sentiment which is
developed out of these emotions and pleasures and pains of the
special senses will be different in any two cases owing to the
different experiences which have formed it. Apart from its
different intensities and strength of persistence, it will have
also, however faintly, a qualitative flavour of its own. The
loves of no two men are the same. The one may be suffused
with joy and happiness ; the other with sorrow and disappoint-
ment. And there is another important difference in their
organisation. The sentiments organise within their complex
systems, not merely the thought which subserves their ends,
not merely the series of emotions which are excited in them,
now blended together, now in succession, but also, and in
different proportions, other and subsidiary sentiments. How
many of the latter are contained in the conscience as sub-
ordinate to the interest felt for its supreme end, love of
justice, honour, beneficence and truth. But again in what
degree has the supreme sentiment actually organised them,
how many egoistic impulses escape from its control, how many
quasi-moral sentiments refuse obedience to it, notably what
men call honour; and the love of Truth will push its cold
analysis even where the sense of decency, or affection, or
reverence forbids it.
Other sentiments again are so contracted that they can find
room for but few that are siibordinate. And where they are
dominant, as they cannot enrich the character by coordinating
the many affections which a supreme sentiment must relate
in a harmonious system, so these must be sacrificed and des-
troyed. Such is the old man's avarice which starves both
himself and others.
V. DISCUSSIONS.
SELF-KNOWLEDGE.
THE term self-sacrifice, as used by Green l in his argument against
the Hedonists, contains an ambiguity which even he, strange to
say, does not sufficiently observe, namely that the ' self ' which is
sacrificed is capable of being understood, according to the pre-
disposition of the reader, in the higher or the lower sense. Of
course what Green meant was the sacrifice of individualistic in-
clination for the sake of personal good, but in general the 'self
of which he writes is somewhat very different from 'inclination.'
Again when defining Personality (which he does with avowed dif-
fidence) as ' the quality in a subject of being consciously an object
to itself he involves himself in an analogous difficulty. His hesi-
tation to offer this or any definition of self arose no doubt from
his perceiving that the true self cannot be object. Dr Martineau,
too, in his controversial chapter on Positivism and its prophet,
A. Comte, shows but a feeble apprehension of the difficulty with
which one has to contend when asserting the fact of self-knowledge.
He asks 2 , "Are we not continually telling our own thoughts and
feelings and purposes? Then is it not ridiculous to assert that
we cannot know them 1 And if we know them, it is assuredly not
by outer testimony or any use of eyesight that we discern them,
but by the inner vision of reflection. What then is the matter
with this sort of apprehension? Are they not real facts that it
shews us ? &c. &c."
Arguing in this strain he seems to ignore the fundamental
difference between self-knowledge and all other knowledge. The
' facts ' referred to are ' real ' enough, but they are facts of par-
ticular experience, what is vulgarly called ' inner ' experience. Being
facts of ordinary knowledge, objective events in time, they are
not facts of self-knowledge. Knowledge of self is no more involved
in the perception of pain or purpose than in the observation of a
star. In short Dr Martineau attempts the impossible when he
attempts the proof of self-knowledge by means of psychology. Plato 8
and Aristotle had already distinguished various meanings of self ;
1 Prolegomena to Ethics. 2 Types of Ethical Theory, n. p. 6.
3 Vide infra.
152
228 JOHN I. BEARE:
and Aristotle 1 had pointed out the popular error of supposing that
the morally unselfish man is one who cares nothing for himself.
The man who ' sacrifices himself ' in a noble cause is, according to
Aristotle, in the highest and truest sense <i'Xavros : he 'acts for the
sake of that in him which is best, that which is most himself ; but
his ' selfishness ' is a blessing to his fellow men.
It is interesting to examine how the conception of self became
progressively defined, and refined, in European philosophy. This
process seems to have virtually begun with the enunciation of the
famous yvdjtfi (reavro'v ; and accordingly it is worth while to trace the
history and influence of the precept from the earliest records to St
Augustine, from him to Descartes, and on to Kant and his successors.
The following pages contain a summary of the information we
derive from Plato as to the origin and meaning of these two words
which, rightly understood, contain the germ of critical philosophy.
Of all moral precepts KNOW THYSELF is perhaps the most re-
markable for a twofold and somewhat paradoxical reason. None
has more deeply impressed the imagination, while none has been
understood, or misunderstood, in a greater variety of ways. In
moral and theoretical philosophy it would appear to have been
the root of controversy and disappointment. A cynic might com-
pare it to an apple of discord divinely thrown among thinking men :
others might liken it to a prism which decomposes the seeming-
simple light of common sense, but into rays for whose re-composition
thinkers have ever found themselves strangely unprovided. From
the time when, according to the tradition, this precept was first
issued by Apollo, and engraved above the portals of his temple at
Delphi, to the present time, it has been a sort of moral shibboleth.
Received at first with reverence by all, and better known to the
ancient Hellenic world than the inscription on St Peter's is known
to Christendom, it was long venerated as worthy of its divine
authorship. It was adopted by Socrates as the foundation of his
practical creed ; it furnished Seneca with consolation in the
presence of death; it became to St Augustine a strong defence
against scepticism : it continued to be, in mediaeval times, a theme
on which moralists dwelt with seeming profit and real delight ; and
it was finally rejected by Hume and Comte, and contemptuously
dismissed, as impracticable, by Mr Carlyle. Now it is hard to
conclude that a precept which has for so many centuries fascinated
the intelligence or imagination is itself unintelligible and commands
what is impossible.
For the Hellenes it appears to have originated in the worship
of Apollo. At all events its origin was distinctly religious. We
read* in the Protagoras that the seven sages, Thales, Pittacus, Bias,
Solon, Cleobulus, Myson, and Chilon, customarily expressing them-
selves in pregnant apophthegms, assembled with one consent at
Delphi, and dedicated to Apollo in his temple the firstfruits of
1 Nic. Ethics, IX. viii. 2 Plato, Protagoras, 343.
SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 229
their wisdom ; inscribing there two maxims ' now on the lips of all
men,' viz. ' know thyself,' and ' nothing in excess.' In the Charmides 1
we have another reference to the tradition which ascribed the maxim
to some of the Sages. But this tradition had, even for Socrates and
Plato, no assured foundation : it had gained favour with the ' ration-
alists ' of the time, but failed to displace the common belief that
' know thyself ' was originally uttered or inspired by the god.
Stobaeus 2 aims at collecting the principal sources of information
respecting the Delphic precept. This author quotes, among other
writers, Porphyrius, whose words may be freely rendered as follows :
"Whether Phemonoe' or Phanothea, the daughter of Delphus,
enounced this oracle : whether it be the dedicated offering of
the Sages, or we must accept the statement of Clearchus that,
when Chilo enquired of the god what was best for man to learn 1
the Pythian returned ' know thyself ' as his answer ; or whether
(as Aristotle says) the maxim stood inscribed in the temple before
Chilon's time : whoever was its author for this is matter of dispute
unquestionably its utterance was due either to the god himself
or to his inspiration." From this we gather that all was uncertainty
as to the origin of the celebrated saying. If Plato and his con-
temporaries had, as they really had, lost the clue to its source, it
was not likely that their successors should be in this respect better
off. Accordingly we must be content with what little knowledge
of its origin we gain from the Platonic dialogues. But we know
from them, and from a host of witnesses, one thing for certain, that
this piece of counsel, know thyself, stood conspicuously engraven
over the entrance of Apollo's temple at Delphi.
As regards its interpretation, it was accepted, apparently, at
first in a purely ethical signification. Heraclitus, the earliest Greek
philosopher whose remains contain any allusion to it, seems to
have given it a moral import. In fragment 106 (By water) he
says : " It behoves all men to know themselves and (? thereby)
to exercise self-control." Thus yvw0i o-eavrov was for Heraclitus,
as afterwards for Socrates, equivalent to <r<i)<f>p6vci.
Its influence upon philosophy, however, did not become in any
degree marked, until it awakened the reflection of Socrates. For
his views of its meaning we must look to Xenophon and Plato.
In Xenophon 3 , Croesus tells how he had consulted Apollo at Delphi
as to his family, and received advice from the oracle. He proceeds
with the story thus : " Sons were born to me, and therein Apollo's
word was not false : but nought did these sons profit me. For one
was dumb, and the other was cut off by death in the prime of
manhood. Whereupon I sent again to ask the oracle what I should
do to enable me to pass the remnant of my days most happily. He
replied :
' Know thyself, Croesus ; then happy wilt thou live and die.'
1 164, d. 2 Flor. xxi. 26.
3 Cyropaedia, vn. 2025.
230 JOHN I. BEARE :
" I rejoiced at hearing this, for I thought surely Apollo offers me
happiness on the easiest terms. Other men, indeed, one might or
might not know : but each must know himself." Croesus then goes
on to describe how far he was mistaken, and the disasters which
in consequence befel him. He engaged with enemies for whom he
believed himself a match, because he did not really, as he had
imagined, know himself ; and the result was his defeat and cap-
tivity. He concludes by saying : " Now at length I do know myself,
and have been righteously punished for the self-ignorance whereof
in former time I was guilty." Thus for Croesus here, i.e. for
Xenophon, to ' know oneself ' meant ' to know how much, or little,
one was able to do,' ' to know one's own power.' That in this
Xenophon represents the teaching of Socrates is probable, and the
more so because in the Memorabilia, 1 he brings Socrates himself
before the reader as thus interpreting the Delphic maxim. Con-
versing with Euthydemus, Socrates is there made to enquire if the
latter had ever gone to Delphi and seen, written over the temple-
gates, the two words 'know thyself,' and if so, whether he had
considered them seriously, and tried to understand them. Eu-
thydemus replies that he had of course seen the words there, but had
made no great effort to understand them, their meaning having
seemed so manifest as to demand no such effort for its discernment.
" If I did not know myself," he says, " what on earth should I
know?" Socrates, as usual with him making the seeming-easy
appear difficult, goes on to show that the fact is not as Euthydemus
supposed ; until the latter at length confesses that the maxim is
one which demands the most serious attention, not only because
of its importance but of its intrinsic difficulty. He asks Socrates
to explain how he must begin to know himself, and is told that
the maxim enjoins the knowledge of one's powers, as well as the
discrimination between good and evil. Thus the interpretation
given to it by Croesus is adopted and amplified. Here we in all
probability have before us the interpretation placed upon 'know
thyself ' by the historical Socrates. But the Platonic Socrates
pushed his enquiries deeper. For while the ethical bearing of the
maxim is never quite lost sight of, it is connected with, or made to
rest upon, a metaphysical exposition.
The first passage of Plato to which I shall refer for his view
of the meaning of the oracle is in the Philebus 2 , where Socrates
declares unhappiness to be due to self-ignorance, ' the state an-
tagonistic to that prescribed for men by the Delphic inscription.'
We here learn that all who are ignorant of themselves exhibit this
ignorance in one or other of three ways, i.e. as regards their minds,
their bodies, or their estates. It is in the first respect that most
men fail ; ignorance of their minds being characteristic of the mul-
titude, who for that reason are easily entangled in the meshes of
false philosophy. ' This condition is one of utter wretchedness.'
1 iv. 2. 2 p. 48.
SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 231
Next I return to the Charmides 1 , where Critias insists on
the urgent necessity of self-knowledge, as the essential feature,
or factor, of self-control. "This," he says, "is what the god at
Delphi enjoins upon his worshippers in the words ' know thyself ' ;
Xcupe, the ordinary salutation which bids 'rejoice,' not being
the best, as the god well knows, and shows by this inscription.
Different in form as the two expressions ' have self-knowledge,' and
'have self-control' are, still in substance they are identical." At
this point Socrates takes him up and asks, what is the good of
self-control, or temperance, thus understood? And first, what is
meant by the knowledge of self ? Temperance or self-control is, he
admits, a good thing : but he doubts whether if regarded as equi-
valent to self-knowledge it would be of any service to us ; and
raises the question, to begin with, how self-knowledge is possible.
Thus we find initiated the long debate continued down to our
own day over these words and their meaning. In the dialogue
before us the conclusion at which Socrates arrives in his argument
against Critias is that self-knowledge is, if possible, unique and
utterly without analogy. He does not pronounce dogmatically that
it is impossible. His respect for Apollo prevents him from going
so far. But he unhesitatingly declares his complete inability to see
how it is possible. As a corollary (with which we are less con-
cerned), he shows that the interpretation of temperance as identical
with self-knowledge would have the effect of rendering this virtue
inconceivable, or useless.
He argues as follows : The sciences and arts are not forms of
self-knowledge. No form of knowledge with which we are ac-
quainted, or which is of any profit, is of this sort. Each science
or art is directed to an object, to be known or produced, quite
different from itself. If self-control be a form of knowledge com-
parable with any of these, it must be knowledge, not of self, but of
somewhat else. Critias admits that it is indeed peculiar, but asserts
that, while all other forms of knowledge refer to objects distinct
from self, this (o-w^pocrwr?) refers to self directly. He further says
that self-knowledge involves all other branches of knowledge 2 .
Socrates, having gained some dialectical advantages over Critias
on side-issues, resumes the main question, and again calls attention
to this strange peculiarity of self-control as identified with self-
knowledge, viz. that while all other forms of knowing have objects
distinct from self, this alone is directed upon self. Compare the
exercise of the perceptions of sense. When one sees, he sees some
colour, not his own seeing, which, in fact, he cannot see at all.
When one hears, he hears a sound of some kind ; his hearing does
not hear itself ; and so with the other special forms of sense-
perception. None is object to itself. The case is similar in de-
siring. Desire is directed to some form of pleasure or pleasurable
1 164, seqq.
2 I desire to call attention to this remarkable statement, the importance
of which will hereafter appear more fully.
232 JOHN I. BEARE:
activity, not to desiring itself, as its object. Fear is to be regarded
in the same way. Of fear which fears no formidable object or
event, but only fears itself, we can form no conception. In short,
there is no such thing. Nor is there a form of opinion directed
to itself, and to no object beyond itself. Yet, according to Critias,
when we come to knowledge we find a form of this which is the
knowledge of no fact, no truth or object, in particular, but is a
knowledge of itself and of other knowledges. This, says Socrates,
is astonishing. To find a parallel for it, we should be able to point
to a faculty of seeing, which sees itself, and is therefore coloured ;
or to a faculty of hearing, which hears itself, and is therefore sonant,
and so on.
Socrates will not declare self-knowledge impossible. He feels
himself to be but a human being, and too weak to decide such a
mighty issue. We notice a slight irony in his tone at this point.
But he is resolved not to grant that self-control or temperance
consists in self-knowledge until he can ascertain of what use it
would be if so constituted. Accordingly he challenges Critias to
prove 1st that self-knowledge is possible, 2nd that if it be identical
with temperance, this virtue is of any service whatever. Needless
to say, after this, that Socrates vanquishes his opponent ; over-
whelming him with arguments to show that knowledge which is
merely of self is of all knowledge the emptiest, and is in fact no
better than sheer ignorance. It is also as practically fruitless as
speculatively hollow. Socrates has too much respect for the virtue
of temperance or self-control to allow, for a moment, its identification
with a hollow sham like self-knowledge.
Here we find some of the cardinal difficulties of the precept
' know thyself ' pointed out by Plato with unsurpassable clearness and
force. The investigation of its meaning, commenced in the interest
of morality, is promptly extended to metaphysics. And in this
dialogue we are taught that self-knowledge, strictly taken, involves
a difficulty insurmountable by human, or at least by Socratic, in-
telligence.
Plato's attitude towards the question would seem to have
somewhat changed, if we may trust the evidence of the first
Alcibiades 1 where (as in the last passage) special prominence is
given to the metaphysical, or rather psychological, bearings of the
precept 'know thyself.' Starting from the expression to "take
care of oneself," Socrates endeavours to sound the full meaning of
this expression. And first, what is self ? If one does not know this,
how can one take care of himself? Or, if one tries to do so, without
knowing what self is, may he not make some gravely disagreeable
mistakes? To take care of ourselves rightly we must obey the
Delphic maxim which commands us to know ourselves. Now what
merely belongs to me is not myself. So with my clothes ; and so,
also, with my limbs and body. When one takes care of his clothes,
1 127 seqq.
SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 233
or of his limbs and body, e.g. by gymnastics, he does not thereby
take care of himself. Hereupon Alcibiades breaks in with the
remark that sometimes he had supposed the Delphic injunction to
be the easiest ever given, but that there had been moments in
which it seemed to him most difficult. Both he and Socrates agree
that obedience to it is indispensable if one is to rightly take care of
oneself. Hence the maxim requires study. In the course of the
succeeding discussion they agree that self is identical with mind, or
soul. It is the first personal self, the I or You who converse
together. I when I converse with Alcibiades address myself to
himself not to his clothes or body or other belongings. I address
myself to his mind his intelligence. It appearing plainly to
Alcibiades as to Socrates that a man himself is distinct from his
clothes &c. and from his body, the question is raised What is
this self? In the negative proposition, as to what self is not, they
agree. But to this question of Socrates, asking for a positive
definition of self, Alcibiades replies that he cannot answer. Socrates
coming to his aid defines self as the agent who employs the body as
instrument.
But how to know this self is the next question. Now it cannot
be known directly, but it can be known indirectly. This Socrates
explains and illustrates as follows. The eye cannot see itself
directly, but may do so indirectly by looking into another eye, and
beholding its own image reflected in the pupil of that other eye.
In a way analogous to this the soul can know itself, i.e. not directly,
indeed, but indirectly. It can look into another's soul, and there
behold its own reflection. And as it is in the pupil (which to Plato
was the seeing part the part of the eye most immediately concerned
in vision) of another's eye that one's own eye sees itself reflected :
so it is in another's faculty of knowing and reasoning that we best
discern the reflex of our true selves.
In this passage Plato has evidently not surmounted the grave
difficulties expressed in the former, but merely evaded them,
by substituting indirect for direct self-knowledge and content-
ing himself with the former. That he only evades in this way
the difficulties he so clearly saw I need not stop to show. I am
not now criticising Plato, but merely relating his attempts to
construe the Delphic maxim, so as to render it first intelligible,
and then practicable.
The above passages are those in which Plato officially addresses
himself to the discussion of the precept. They virtually contain all
or at least the basis of all that he has to say of its interpretation.
Self is for him the soul : and soul expresses itself in the first
personal pronoun the I, by the thought, or energy of which a man
distinguishes himself from other persons, and from all the world.
That a man should know this self, in the obvious sense of the
word 'know,' i.e. as object, is, Plato concludes, impossible. This
conclusion appears in the Charmides. For though Socrates there
seems to hesitate about pronouncing it, the effect he leaves upon
234 JOHN I. BEARE :
his hearers' minds is this. He saw that neither by introspection (as
it is called) nor by any other form of observation can self the true
subject be directly apprehended. All attempts at direct self-
knowledge are doomed to disappointment. Negatively they are of
use. In the effort to know himself one at least may determine
what he is not. But positively such attempts lead only to the vain
iteration I am I. Consequently the god at Delphi could not
(Plato reasoned) have meant ' know thyself ' to be understood of
direct knowledge objective knowledge of self. There remained
only the indirect. Hence it is by knowing the selves of others
that we best come to know ourselves. This admission of indirect
self-knowledge is of the utmost importance. We shall not here
enquire how, if it be impossible to know our very selves, it is
possible to know the selves of other persons. But we may see in
the admission that indirect self-knowledge is the only valuable or
feasible form of self-knowledge a germ of thought which afterwards
grew and flourished. For the avenue of speculation thus opened up
by Plato is much wider than appears from the terms of the dialogue
from which we have quoted. Man comes to know himself, not only
by the study of other men their thoughts or acts but by all
methods of study in which any objective truth is attainable. He
attains self-knowledge in the highest possible degree when he com-
prehends the world as the revelation of a system of ideas, which are
ultimately but phases of self. This doctrine was otherwise de-
veloped by Aristotle. It enters largely into his treatise De Anima,
but finds its culmination in his Metaphysics. It is the legitimate
outcome of a train of reflection (first on Plato's, then on
Aristotle's part) which was originally started by an impulse derived
from the Delphic maxim know thyself. This doctrine we shall
not here examine, but continue our review of the precept to which
it owes so much. Consideration of the doctrine itself will require a
fuller and more searching study of the writings of Plato and
Aristotle. For with these authors it began in the history of
philosophy : nor have any of their successors added in this direction
much, except explicitness, to their speculations.
To prevent misconception of Plato's attitude we must ob-
serve that while (as we have seen) he dismisses as futile every
attempt at direct self-knowledge, he is far from suggesting that self
is a ' fiction.' The passages already referred to, as well as his
writings generally, prove how earnest and deep was his assurance of
the reality of the personal self. But the Phaedo particularly
demonstrates this. Here he undertakes formally to establish the
doctrine of immortality, i.e. to vindicate for the soul a reality
not merely empirical but transcendent, and not merely after
death, but before its connexion with the body has begun. And
at the close of the dialogue a most interesting passage seems
to have been introduced for the special purpose of showing that
the soul which had been proved immortal is no other than the
personal 'self of each man. Fearing that a long discussion
SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 235
occupied with the notion of a third-personal entity called Soul
tyvyr) might, however formally conclusive, fail nevertheless to
come home to the personal convictions of his auditors as something
of nearest and dearest concern to each of them : and knowing
the feeble, or misleading, effect of merely logical discourse, as well
as of the associations connected with the words and idioms of
common language : Plato appears to have devised and introduced
the following dramatic episode for the very purpose of finally
driving his conclusion in upon the hearts of his hearers, and
correcting their lingering doubts and misconceptions. Crito has
asked him how he wishes to be buried for he is now just about
to drink the hemlock. Socrates replies thus : " I cannot make
Crito here see that I, who have been and am conversing with you
all, am the veritable self of Socrates. He still thinks me identical
with this body, which he will shortly behold a corpse ; arid this
is why he has asked how he shall bury me. All the long discourse
I have held with him and you to prove, that when I have drunk
the hemlock I shall be no longer with you, but shall have gone to
the happy abode of the blessed all this discourse seems to him to
have been but idle words, spoken in the idle wish to comfort myself
and you. Give him then my best assurance that when I have died
I shall be no longer here, but shall have departed ; in order that he
may bear my death with more composure, and may not, when he sees
my body buried or consumed by fire, weep for me, as though /suffered
this cruel treatment ; or say ' I am now laying out Socrates,' or
' carrying Socrates forth to burial,' or ' heaping clay over Socrates
in his grave.' For indeed Crito, my friend, I want you to lay to
heart this truth, that the use of such incorrect terms is not only
wrong, but engenders a peculiar evil in our souls. Be of good
cheer, therefore; speak of burying my body, not me; and pray
dispose of it in the way you think best, and most usual."
The incorrect use of terms here referred to is that which
represents Socrates himself as identical with his body. This indeed
is a use of terms common to all times and idioms. But that it was
understood and its fallacy exposed by Plato, we learn from this
quotation. The dramatic power and propriety of the scene from
which it is taken is equalled only by the keen practical insight which
thus makes Socrates finally and feelingly declare that the soul of
which he has hitherto spoken is Crito, is Phaedo is each friend in
turn the personal existence the very self of every one of them.
JOHN I. BEARE.
236 E. B. TITCHENER:
THE 'TYPE-THEORY' OF THE SIMPLE REACTION.
PROFESSOR BALDWIN'S evasions are exceedingly skilful, and the
eruptions of polite invective which usually follow them exceedingly
telling. But those who have followed this discussion with the
purpose which I had in beginning it the purpose of finding, if
possible, the true explanation of the results of psychological experi-
ments upon the duration of the simple reaction will refer from
his latest paper to mine, and read comparatively. I shall therefore
assume that they have noted the importance of Professor Baldwin's
admissions (e.g., p. 81), promises (e.g., p. 85) and qualifications (e.g.,
p. 89), and proceed at once to the special points emphasised in his
argument 1 .
1. As to the Leipsic procedure, 1 can only repeat deliberately
what I have before deliberately stated : that, so far as my knowledge
goes, no subject who has been found capable of reaction (of giving
approximately the same response to the same stimulus in a series,
say, of fifteen trials, after practice) has been neglected either in the
parent or in any more recently established laboratory. It was
Martius one of the contributors to the Leipsic theory who first
analysed what is now known as the " central " form of the simple
reaction, a form which is neither sensorial nor muscular. In the
Cornell Study from which Professor Baldwin quotes the 'disposition
view' are given the times of several observers who did not show the
sensorial-muscular difference ; and that although it is expressly
stated that the object of the Study was not to examine and account
for these divergences from the norm. In face of these and similar
facts, the charge is made that I (and, I suppose else the matter
would not be important the Leipsic school with me) think that
certain results " ought to have been suppressed," and that certain
cases "ought not to have been investigated 2 "!
1 I give one instance of the way in which Professor Baldwin can
parry an objection. In his Psych. Rev. Study he identified the 'disposi-
tion view ' with the Leipsic theory. I urged that the ' view ' was not a
theory at all ; and that the type theory had to meet, not it, but the
Leipsic theory proper, something quite different. He now says, in
effect : I grant that the view is not a theory ; but that leaves my type
theory in a better position than ever, since it is a. theory. To which I, of
course, reply that the rejoinder is formally correct, but that the objection
holds as strongly as it held before, inasmuch as no comparison of the type
theory with the Leipsic theory has been carried out.
2 Nine gentlemen took part with me in my Leipsic Study. I published
the results obtained from Dr Meumann, Mr H. C. Warren and myself.
There are consequently seven (not six) to be accounted for. One devoted
almost all his time to the apparatus. One was called away on military
service early in the course of the investigation ; the series which I have
from him promise well. One found the apparatus too complex, and its
management too tedious, and withdrew from the research group. One
THE 'TYPE-THEORY' OF THE SIMPLE REACTION. 237
2. I stated that there were many ways of testing memory
type besides that of the reaction experiment. Professor Baldwin
challenges me to produce my methods, remarking that he knows
of none which are conclusive except those of introspection and
pathology. I was referring to the normal mind when I made the
statement ; and as all psychological experiments on the normal
mind, the reaction experiment included, follow or should follow
the introspective method, I am afraid that a list of my methods
will not broaden Professor Baldwin's knowledge. However, I
recognise the justness of the challenge, and give the laboratory
and other methods (co-ordinate with the reaction method as sub-
forms of introspection) which I have found useful 1 .
Methods of Investigating Memory Type. (1) I believe the best method
for the determination of memory type to consist in the introspection of a
trained observer at times when consciousness is, so to speak, off its guard.
He must educate himself to take his mind unawares when he is remem-
bering, or failing to remember. All sorts of rememberings cases referring
to all the different sense departments must be noted. This, the most
direct way in which introspection can be practised, is also, I think, the
most fruitful. I have employed it for five (not ' one or two ') years ; and
have only refrained from publishing my results in detail because, as I
said in my previous paper, some facts are still obscure to me. (2) I have
gave such curiously slow reactions that they were hardly reactions at all.
I was advised by Professor Wundt to continue work with him, but he left
the laboratory for a reason which I cannot recall. One was found to be
colour-blind, and left my group for another in consequence. I have many
series from him, which may be useful some day to compare with those
taken from other colour-blind persons. One was unanimously himself
included referred to the category of incapables in this department of
work. It would have been interesting to study his irregularity (here I
heartily agree with Professor Baldwin) : but that was not the object of my
inquiry. It would have demanded simple experiments in many sense
spheres : I was desirous of making complicated experiments in one. The
last participator was the ' odd man' of the group : a very useful personage,
liable to be called upon at short notice to replace an absentee as experi-
menter or subject, in order to prevent interruption of the work. His
results were good ; but they were too scanty to be published, and were not
intended for publication.
Only one of the seven, then, was rejected on the ground of incapacity :
though others might have been, had they continued with me. And it is
surely evident that irregularities cannot be explained till we have norms
whereby to explain them; i.e., that it was more important to proceed
with the original research than to turn aside to examine the single case.
This is to me so obvious, that I almost wonder whether Professor Baldwin
and myself are not using the term "reaction experiment" in two totally
different senses, such as those indicated by Dr Rivers, Journ. of Mental
Science, Oct. 1895.
1 Is it illogical, as Professor Baldwin implies, to state that there are
many methods of testing type, and yet that the elucidation of type is
difficult ? There are many methods of learning Greek.
In Nature of Dec. 5, 1895, a reviewer says : " Surely we all know what
is the particular language of our own translation of experience." If we
did, all the method-work reaction and other would be needless.
238 E. B. TITCHENER:
tried to get at memory type by questioning, with as absolute as possible
avoidance of suggestion. This method can be usefully employed only
where the subjects questioned have a general knowledge of psychology
but are ignorant of the doctrine of memory type. Its results check and
are checked by those of the foregoing and next following methods.
(3) Questioning with suggestion is a method covering all such tests as
Mr Galton's breakfast-table recollection. It has grave dangers, and must
be used with great caution. I have tried to check it by what is called
the "method of reproduction," the subject being required to reproduce
his memory image in objective form ; and by an error method, the
memory image being compared with some objective standard. Neither
check is very easy of application. But my results lead me to think that a
method may be perfected, under this general head, which will be especi-
ally valuable for the estimation of the relative importance of the different
memories in a given consciousness. (4) Another way of testing the
relative importance of memories, or the fixity of a particular memory, is
the following. A series of experiments on memory is made, with no
directions to the subject as to the way in which he is to memorise. He
is encouraged to be as full as possible in his introspective remarks.
From these, checked by special experiments, the experimenter ascertains
the type of memory employed. A new set of experiments is then begun,
in which the subject is told to remember in a particular way, different
from the way of least resistance. The experimental results and the
subject's introspection show whether the shift of type is successful, or
only partially or sporadically possible, or impossible. (5) Sometimes two
types are used in one and the same act of remembrance: introspection
reveals the fact, but cannot say, under the ordinary conditions of memory,
which type is the more indispensable. Experiments by the method of
reproduction, checked by others with voluntary suppression, are again
useful. (6) It is very important to determine whether non-employment
of a type is due to nature or habit and education. I am this year trying
to get a reliable method of investigating the problem, and have obtained
good preliminary results from two forms of the method of reproduction.
(7) Another method of testing type in general I owe to Professor M.
Washburn. Psychological experiments are often made under distraction :
the subject is required to judge of the difference or likeness of impressions
while he is adding numbers, etc. The mistakes made in this addition,
etc., are indicative of type : if one sees the figures to be added, one's
mistakes differ from those made by a subject who hears the numbers
spoken as he adds them. (8) Mr A. Fraser has shown how a writer's
memory type can be determined from his writings (Am. Journ. of Psych.,
iv., pp. 230 ff.). This is the method which should replace 'surmise' in
the case of Bonders.
3. Professor Baldwin wrote of the subjects of his Study as
follows (italics mine). " The reagents were, besides the writers
(B. and S.), Mr Faircloth (K), a student who had had only the
experience gained from the practical work in this subject of the
course in Experimental Psychology. His reactions were ready and
un confused, and from all appearances he was a normal and more
than usually suitable man for such work. The fourth, Mr Crawford
(C.), is an honour student in this subject in Princeton. His reactions
were taken in the course of another investigation, and being so few in
number, they are included only because they give a certain case of a
capable reagent whose sensory is shorter than his motor reaction.
THE 'TYPE-THEORY' OF THE SIMPLE REACTION. 239
We Jiope to test him further." I read this to mean that the authors
believed their two reagents to be reliable subjects, but were a little
doubtful as to the extent of their practice. Hence I said : " The
greatest reliance is placed upon the times of B. and S." It was an
instance of the psychologist's fallacy : had I written the paragraph,
I should have meant what I took it to mean. I am sorry that I
misunderstood the writers 1 .
4. I come to the matter of Professor Baldwin's own reaction
times. In his Senses and Intellect he remarks, in general terms,
that he had anticipated Lange's discovery of the sensorial-muscular
difference. Lange found that the difference averaged one-tenth of
a second (Phil. Stud., iv., 494 ; Wundt, Phys. Psych., 4te Aufl., n.,
311). Many subsequent experiments have confirmed this result
(e.g., those published in the Phil. Stud., VIIL, 144; and those of
the Cornell Study before alluded to), and it is now generally
accepted by ' the Leipsic people ' as the normal difference between
the two forms (Wundt, loc. cit. ; Kuelpe, Outlines, 408, 410). If
Professor Baldwin anticipated Lange, his times must have shown an
original difference of some 85 to 115 or. If they did not, he did not
anticipate Lange.
The differences between the times given for himself in his Study
are, as I said in my earlier paper, 29, 7, 1 2 and 46 o-. No. one of
these is anything like the sensorial-muscular difference. The 7 and
12 are times no larger than the average m.v. of the muscular
reaction (about lOo-); an m.v. of 30 o- is not uncommon in the
case of the sensorial form ; and 46 would be a typical " central "
difference. Either Professor Baldwin is mistaken in thinking that
he anticipated Lange, or his times have changed since he wrote his
Senses and Intellect. S.'s differences are 51, 40, 79 and 40 a. Taken
as absolute times, these would all be "central," though one shows
an approximation to the true sensorial-muscular difference. I do
not think, however, that the differences can be treated in this way,
since neither B. nor S. gave what would be ordinarily regarded as a
muscular reaction. The times are 171, 149, 164, 138; 195, 184,
158, 179 cr. These are all, in my opinion, and I believe that
1 Just as, I am sure, Professor Baldwin will be sorry that he jumped
to an interpretation of the sentence in my Leipsic Study, which turns
out to be very largely wrong. I must be more accustomed to making
mistakes than Professor Baldwin is ; for I find it impossible in that case
to work myself up to the height of moral and intellectual indignation
from which he looks down upon my misreading here.
My presumption that the writers were working definitely upon the
type theory from the outset was based on the statement that one of the
" questions set for research " was that of " the differences of reaction
times for different individuals under identical conditions."
In the paragraph in which he insists that the greatest reliance was not
placed upon the times of B. and S., Professor Baldwin writes that these
times are "very neutral to the discussion." Yet they receive quite
detailed treatment in his Study in the examinations following the two
Tables. Why ?
240 E. B. TITCHENER:
those familiar with chronometrical results will agree with me,
more or less " central " or mixed reactions. The muscular reaction
to sound averages 120 o- 1 .
5. Professor Baldwin resents my method of appraising his
theory. I confess that, when I am trying to form a theory of
certain phenomena or to estimate a theory already set up, I like
to have the facts ' catalogued,' ticketed and weighted. Professor
Baldwin objects to bringing facts together : he distributes them
sparsely in a matrix of theory, like the infrequent plums in school
plum-cake. Then, if the critic complains of the quality of the
compound, he says : But I have plenty more plums in the pantry.
How does that help the present consumer 1
The type-theory has been written about in a medical weekly, a
philosophical bi-monthly, a psychological bi-monthly, and a book.
Now we are told that its presentation is not yet complete. I did
not, of course, know this when I criticised it. Nevertheless, I
do not regret the criticism : since it may prevent overhasty ac-
ceptance of an attractive hypothesis, and may impel Professor
Baldwin to show his full hand to the psychological public.
Something might be said, I think, from the ethical standpoint,
of this piecemeal doling-out of a scientific theory. Had Professor
Baldwin's article left me a shred or two of moral character, I might
have made bold to say it.
6. A few minor differences remain to be cleared up. I deal
with them in a foot-note 2 .
1 Professor Baldwin says that his times "have only changed in that
the distinction is less marked than it used to be ; and this I go [to] the
trouble to explain in the same article as probably due to habit and
practice." In my copy of the Study there is not a word of this explana-
tion. The change in the author's times is not once referred to. A
general statement is made about habit towards the end of the Study ; I
commented on it on p. 514 of my criticism. It does not contain any
the most remote trace of personal reference.
2 (1) " How can Kuelpe say beforehand that the muscular form will
turn out in each case to be shorter than the sensorial ?" If Professor
Baldwin will read Kuelpe's Studien articles, or if he will even read on for
a single page of the " Outlines," from the place of my quotation, he will
find Kuelpe's answer to this question. (2) " Is not the fact that F is a
musician something of an explanation of his auditive 'disposition'?"
Not necessarily ; not i.e., if other musicians do not show auditive dis-
positions in their reactions. It is just here that facts are so useful,
or so obstinate. (3) Defect of vision might, certainly, lengthen reaction
time. I do not see that this helps to explain the reaction itself. (4) The
rest of the paragraph which has called forth these last two remarks is
obscure to me, in spite of many readings. The type theory would hardly
be a theory of the geistige Ardagen which it presupposes, even if it fitted
all the reaction facts. It surely posits memory type ; it does not state
the conditions under which one or other type may be looked for. I fail to
see, therefore, how its application can be ' an investigation of the so-called
'dispositions' to find out what they really are.' The Study, indeed,
dismisses this problem (p. 78) : it is evident, we read, that attention is
now motor, now sensory, differing in individuals with type, " apart quite
THE 'TYPE-THEORY' OF THE SIMPLE REACTION. 241
In conclusion, I cannot but express my regret that Professor
Baldwin should have seen fit to write a dialectical and personal
rejoinder to my criticism, without furnishing new facts or reasons
for the absence of facts in earlier publications. A good deal of his
reply, and therefore of this answer to it, might have been disposed
of in private correspondence. Until the promised support is brought
up, the theory remains what it has been, a very happy idea, or
ingenious analogy, apparently natural and probable, but (so far as
published) based upon an altogether insufficient substrate of fact.
I also regret Professor Baldwin's attitude to the "Leipsic
people." He is a professor of experimental psychology ; he must
know the literary history of reaction theories, he must know how
much patient work the "Leipsic people" have done, for how many
years, how much the different theorists differ, and how the central
theory has advanced, how the theory compares with other theories,
and how adequately it covers the ground of ascertained fact. Yet
he nowhere meets the Leipsic theory as a theory, but only questions
its norms; he sets its authors contemptuously aside, as if to have
worked at Leipsic meant a biassed view of psychology in general ;
he charges "Wundt, Kuelpe," et id genus omne in the present instance
with "a flagrant argumentum in circulo," and attributes to them an
unscrupulous rejection of results which make against their circulus,
when some of these results are published by their own "people,"
and some even in their own organ ! I have tried to write moderately
in this and my previous paper, and have no wish to emulate
Professor Baldwin in the matter of name-calling at the last
moment. But I cannot think that his attitude to a long line of
predecessors in the field is either scientifically or ethically de-
fensible.
from the question as to how one or other state of things comes to be as it
is in any one case." At the same time, I admit that the incomplete
statement of the theory may account for its obscurity on this point, and
shall await the complete presentation before offering further criticism.
(5) I quoted Professor Cattell's letter, because he allowed me to publish it
under his name. I did so altogether unhesitatingly, because Professor
Cattell has taken part in the discussion of the validity of Lange's distinc-
tion (readers of the Studien will know how rigidly his adverse criticisms
were ' suppressed ' by Professor Wuudt), and because every jot of direct
evidence for or against the type theory was important to me. When the
'exact figures' and their analysis are published Professor Cattell's cases
will, undoubtedly, carry greater weight than they can in outline form.
The same is true of Professor Baldwin's cases : I fear that those mean
variations which "are too complex to be of any value" will still be asked
for by the cataloguing psychologists. (6) M. Inaudi's case tells heavily
against the type theory, as published, for the reasons given on p. 513 of
my earlier paper.
E. B. TlTCHENER.
M. 16
242 WILLIAM W. CAELILE:
THE PHILOSOPHY OF COMMON SENSE.
PROFESSOR SIDGWICK'S address, published in the last April number
of Mind, I trust may be taken as yet one more, added to the
indications that are already becoming pretty numerous, that the
reign of Paradox in philosophy, and of the fallacy that, in that
sphere, is synonymous with it 1 is drawing to its close. There are
one or two aspects of the questions discussed, however, which strike
me in a different light from that in which they struck Professor
Sidgwick, and on them I should like to make a few remarks.
I think the claim to validity for the verdict of the plain man
is susceptible of being stated more convincingly than we find it
stated (p. 151). What is its position, we may ask, as regards the
questions of physics ? On one aspect of every such question
presented, absolutely worthless, on another, quite as good as that
of the profoundest philosopher alive. Nor does it matter in the
smallest degree, how plain the man is, or how ignorant. I take
a glass of clear lime water and a straw, and tell you that I am
going to breathe through the straw into the water. Two questions
at once arise : "Will the water turn milky?" and "Why will it
turn milky ? " The answer to the last is within the sphere of the
man of science only ; the answer to the first is within the sphere of
every man. If, moreover, the answer to the fii'st were not within
the sphere of every man, wholly irrespective of philosophical
training, then neither answer could have any objective truth
whatever.
The question then is : Is there anything in subject science on
which the verdict of the plain man is as good as the verdict of the
philosopher, as it undoubtedly is on such a question of fact in
physics as that cited ? In other words, is there such a thing as
fact in subject science? If there is not, this much is certain, that
there can be no such reasoning there as the reductio ad absurdum,
and, in that case, any one statement on any metaphysical, psycho-
logical, or ethical question would be just about as verifiable as
any other. As psychological controversy, however, in one shape
or another is one of the great facts of the world whatever
controversy is not physical being at bottom psychological and
as such controversy takes for granted the possibility of finality,
that sceptical conclusion can hardly be the right one.
When we enquire, however, what is the equivalent of the
appeal to physical fact in psychical science, the answer that comes
uppermost is not satisfactory. We should be told probably that
it was the appeal to consciousness, to introspection. An instance
of this appeal made by Professor Sidgwick himself has been
frequently quoted of late. In connection with the question of
. " In this sphere what seems is." F. H. Bradley, Mind, Vol. xm.
49.
1 Cp.
0. S. No.
THE PHILOSOPHY OF COMMON SENSE. 243
the Freedom of the Will 1 , "On the one hand," he says, "are all
the arguments of Determinism, on the other my consciousness of
deliberate choice at the moment of action." The appeal thus put,
is looked upon in some quarters, and not without justification, as
little better than giving away the Libertarian position. If however
we enquire more narrowly what the appeal to consciousness, in such
a case, really means, the question shews itself in another light
altogether. Consciousness, in the sense of direct perception of the
mental present, does not exist. Our knowledge of our states of
mind is manifestly only the knowledge of past states. Is then the
appeal an appeal to memory? In a sense, it can be nothing else.
Memory, however, is always the memory of individual facts, not
of abstractions. The mental process that we call the appeal to
consciousness thus necessarily consists in recalling some individual
fact and comparing it with some general proposition which is
alleged to be applicable to it; of recalling an example, in fact,
and comparing it with an alleged rule, in order, thereby, to test the
validity of the rule. The abstract proposition in this case is :
"The Will is free." I may test it, perhaps, by recalling what
happened this morning. I say to myself : I had to decide this
morning whether I should go to the meet of the Rangitikei Hunt
or stop at home and write this paper. I decided on the latter
course. I compare this series of mental events with the abstract
proposition "The Will is free" and decide that it is an instance
that comes under such a proposition ; that it is something which
would be described in the languages of all civilized nations as an
act of free choice, or by some words into which these words are
translatable. I am thus forced to decide that the proposition " The
Will is free" is valid; that it is a fact with which every theory
must be made to square. In what other way, indeed, do we decide
that two straight lines cannot enclose a space? We compare the
concept of straight line with the concept of lines that enclose a
space, by calling up individual instances of each, and scrutinizing
them side by side. If we ask, however, what is the concept of a
straight line, we find that it is nothing whatever but the meaning
of the words " straight line." All physical science even must thus,
in the long run, rest on the postulate that elementary words must
always be used in their natural meaning.
It may be objected : this makes the questions of philosophy
into questions of words. A misconception, however, very readily
creeps in here. There is all the difference in the world between
a question of language and a question of nomenclature. The
" occasional meanings " of words are themselves a natural phe-
nomenon, an evolutionary product ; and the task of ascertaining
the natural laws that give the rationale of these meanings and
explain the connection between them must be the task of some
science. Let any one set himself to endeavour to find a hypothesis
1 I quote from memory.
162
244 WILLIAM W. CARLILE :
that will give the rationale of the distinction between wit and
humour, and he will find himself engaged on one of the problems of
empirical psychology. Let him endeavour to explain and account
for the various meanings of Reality, Identity, or Causation, and he
will be, at once, deep in the problems of Metaphysics. It seems
then that the real task of the subject sciences is to explain and
account for the meanings of such words, and that the meanings
themselves are our data, which it is altogether illegitimate for us to
twist or turn in any way.
A very broad distinction between the fact of physics and the
fact of psychology presents itself in this, that the subject of an
assertion in physics can be pointed out. We can point to wood, or
lead, or water, and having thus fixed their identity as between man
and man, we can add what predicates we please. When we ask,
however, what is it that fixes the identity, as between man and
man, of the subject in a psychological assertion, we see that it
plainly is not anything analogous to pointing out. A table got its
name for us originally because it could be pointed out, and its
pointing out could be accompanied by an oral sign. Fear or hope,
wit or humour, were never pointed out. They got names which are
transmissible because the same series of occurrences gave rise to the
same feelings simultaneously in different people. Hence what is
analogous in psychology to pointing out in physics is reproducing
an instance of such a series of occurrences as that to which the
name originally attached and to which it still naturally attaches ;
adducing, in fact, a test instance for a general statement. In
psychology, as Mr Stout says, it is the oral sign that " objectifies "
the idea 1 .
From this it follows that technical nomenclature and technical
meanings have no place in psychology. We have absolutely no
means of afiixing them to its phenomena. For the naming of what
is physically indicatable one pointing out is enough. The name can
be, at once, affixed. What is not thus indicatable can only obtain
a name as the result of many, perhaps of innumerable, repetitions ;
and of the seizure by the thought of the community of the common
element in such repetitions. The name of every psychological
phenomenon, in fact, registers the discovery of a law of nature
as truly as the word "Gravitation" registers Newton's great
generalization. It thus becomes comprehensible how, by diving
into the meanings of words, important and valuable truth is to be
elicited. What we are really diving into is the stored up experience
of the race. It is after all no more mysterious that Common Sense
should have the truth, though implicitly only, on the questions of
metaphysics, than that we should be able to play tunes without
knowing the theory of music, or to write verses without knowing
the rules of prosody. All through life and nature we see the
same precedence of the fact to its rationale, of crude analogy to
1 " Thought and Language." Mind, 0. S. Vol. xvi. No. 62, p. 188.
THE PHILOSOPHY OF COMMON SENSE. 245
quantitative proportion, of the instinct to the comprehension of its
final cause. This is the essential truth expressed in the Hegelian
triad, not derived, as Hegel himself imagined, from any a priori
source, but, like the conception of causation or of reality, an
unconscious or semi-conscious generalization from primitive ex-
perience. It is not hard to see, in the history of Idealism itself,
an example of its operation. Starting from the standpoint of
Common Sense we have, in the solipsism of Hume and Kant, the
"anders seyn," and in the substitution of the neutrum for the
Ego by Schelling and Hegel, a return, in so far, to the original
conception, modified and enlightened, no doubt, by the controversy 1 .
Pantheism, whatever it is, is, at any rate, no idle paradox, but the
natural faith of a large portion of the human race ; and is, in some
sense, hardly distinguishable from the Christian doctrines of the
omniscience, omnipotence and omnipresence of God. Undoubtedly
the other world-famous paradox of Determinism has also only to
run its course to come back, in the end, to theoretical conformity
with our inevitable and instinctive thought.
1 A Berkleian like Ferrier might with some justice contend that that
clear-sighted philosopher had himself passed through all three stages.
WILLIAM W. CARLILE.
VI. CRITICAL NOTICES.
Geschichte der neiieren Philosophic eine Darstellung der Geschichte
der Philosophie von dem Ende der Renaissance bis zu unseren
Tagen. Von Dr HARALD HOFFDING, Professor an der Univer-
sitat in Kopenhagen. Erster Band. Leipzig : O. R. Reisland,
1895. London: Williams and Norgate. Pp. xv, 587.
THREE features, says Hoffding, distinguish this History from its
predecessors : first, the greater attention paid to each philosopher's
personality and relationship to science and culture; secondly, the
special consideration bestowed on the form in which problems were
raised as distinct from their attempted solutions ; and, thirdly, the
superior adequacy of the work, due to fresh study of original sources
of knowledge, as well as to the aid derived from the philosophic
literature of the last twenty years.
Hoffding is an appreciative and interested student of all systems,
but to none at least of those contained in the present volume has
he given his allegiance. One feels, however, that his interest in the
history of philosophy is no mere literary or biographical interest.
In formulating the results of his study his purpose has evidently
been not only to gratify legitimate curiosity about the past, but
also to assist in directing the future, of speculation. His style is
lucid and objective; his method, that of faithful exposition, followed
by independent criticism. His manner has a 'positivist' tone, which
is always satisfactory when, as in his case, associated with a true
sense of the problems underlying the superficial ground of positivism.
He may be said to exhibit in himself much of what is best in the
character of English speculation, combined with the critical idealism
of Germany. In an article contributed by him to the Archiv fur
Geschichte der Philosophie 1888 (Band n., Heft i.), he concludes by
saying: "Despite all our criticism and all our realism, we must
grant that the ultimate presupposition of philosophy is to be found
in the fundamental thought of idealism ; though we may not express
this thought with the dogmatism of our predecessors, and cannot
entertain their high hopes of carrying it out with scientific complete-
ness." At the close of his Psychology he uses words to the same
effect.
His History represents the progress of modern thought as a
development.- Lines of affiliation and influence are carefully traced.
DR H. HOFFDING : Geschichte der neueren Philosophic. 247
The main problems are distinguished and kept in clear relief ; while
the forms which express them are seen to grow ever more precise
and more comprehensive, as philosophy better understands itself in
successive generations. To Hoffding himself the ultimate fate of
philosophy seems to rest with psychology, yet this opinion has not
(except perhaps in one or two cases referred to further on) had the
effect of disturbing his balanced judgment as a critical historian. In
his Psychology he asserts that all thinking that of philosophy,
including ErkenntnistJieorie, among the rest is object-matter of
psychological investigation. In the introduction to the present work
he goes further, stating that, if we should be ultimately forced to
give up the other great problems of philosophy as insoluble, or as
having arisen from misunderstanding, psychology would still remain,
the last stronghold of philosophy. If he claims superiority for his
favourite theme on the ground that philosophic thought is an object
of psychological study, his claim must be resisted by those who reflect
that psychological thought, too, is object-matter of psychology, but
that this would not justify us in burdening the latter with the
problems of its own existence, and of the validity of its reasonings.
Hoffding, in tracing the movement which led to the Renaissance,
begins with what he calls the ' Discovery of Man ' the ' Humanis-
mus ' of the age of Machiavelli and Poinponazzi, in contrast with
preceding times when individual thinking and action were helpless
in a church-dominated state, which looked for the fulfilment of its
highest ends in a future world. He shows as others have often
shown how a feeling for the importance of humanity as such grew
stronger and stronger. He traces the growth of theories of natural
right and natural religion, both being a protest against, or a revolt
from, the supernatural. With changed views of man's position on
earth came changed views of the earth's position in the cosmic
system. The mediaeval astronomy and science gradually fell into
discredit, and ultimately disappeared, before the assaults of renascent
speculation. Natural law it began to be whispered extends to and
involves the very heavens ! The old opposition of heaven and
earth, the abodes of God and men respectively, was abolished. A
bounded universe was no longer adequate to the needs of cosmical
conception. Space was declared to be infinite. The universe might
still be a sphere, but it was ' a sphere whose centre is everywhere,
its circumference, nowhere.' Popular religion had ever been closely
associated with popular astronomy. Even now ignorant or un-
reflecting persons all round the world regard each his own church-
spire as pointing heavenwards. Such crude notions received a severe
shock from the new astronomy, when it was seen that the relation-
ship of God to the world must be conceived far differently from the
way in which it is conceived by children. With the revival of
letters attention was redirected to the original writings of the Greek
philosophers, especially Aristotle. It was found that his genuine
work had been overlaid with a mass of constructive interpretation
by which it was almost concealed. The question on which his
248 CRITICAL NOTICES.
votaries consulted him most anxiously was that of immortality.
St. Thomas had been able to derive from him clear statements, or
cogent arguments, in favour of the doctrine nearest to the heart of
Christianity. But in the De Anima, when read calmly and without
bias, no such clear statements or cogent arguments could be found.
On the contrary, the doctrine therein maintained, that soul is the
'form ' of body, while ' form ' and ' matter ' are incapable of existing
asunder, was felt to be distinctly unfavourable to the doctrine of a
future life. True, Aristotle in various passages asserts, or implies,
the survival, after death, of a certain part or aspect of soul. But
he expressly says that memory and ivill, which, for ordinary persons
give life its interest and worth, must perish with the body. Aris-
totle's Psychology had, indeed, been very differently interpreted by
different classes of commentators. As Hoffding says, the Greek
scholiasts construed its meaning naturalistically ; the Arabians
(Averroes &c.) pantheistically ; while the scholastics, particularly
St Thomas, had derived from it a theory of dualism of soul and
body as distinct and independent entities. Thus free speculation
re-opened the momentous question which Christian dogma had
closed, and the resulting investigations paved the way for modern
psychology.
Naturalism, the most signal feature in the character of Hellenic
life and thought, was revived with the renewed study of Hellenic
literature. Its growing influence is traced by Hoffding in connection
with the names of Montaigne, Ludovicus Vives (who first strove to
divert attention from the fruitless question as to what the soul is,
to the fruitful question, what the soul does), Jacob Bbhme, Grotius,
and Herbert of Cherbury. The first book of this history concludes
with an elaborate account of the life, personality, and work, of
Giordano Bruno, who is, for Hoffding, the first great figure almost
as great as any in the history of modern philosophy.
Hoffding next describes the way in which the progress of new
ideas gradually revolutionised physical science or, rather, intro-
duced it. With this subject his deeply interesting second book is
occupied. A new problem had arisen : to determine the forces and
laws by which the system of nature, constructed by thought out of
the data of perception, is regulated. The motions of the celestial
bodies had for centuries been referred to the agency of souls. That
stars and planets had souls, or were souls, dwelling apart, was then
no mere poet's fancy. It filled the place of scientific belief. This
belief lasted until the time of Kepler, who himself entertained it at
first. In the second edition of his Mysterium Cosmographicum, says
Hoffding, he informs his readers, that the animae matrices, which he
had mentioned in his first edition, have no existence. "I once
thought that the forces which moved the planets were souls ; but.
when I considered how these forces decrease with distance, I con-
cluded that they are corporeal." Archimedes had conceived the
germinal idea of exact science, but his works remained, throughout
the Middle Ages, unedited and unknown. His thought had slum-
DR H. HOFFDING: Geschichte der neueren Philosophic. 249
bered, but it was not dead. In the 16th century, when edited and
translated, he became known as the founder of statics and hydro-
statics. Experiment and analysis were now gradually substituted
for contemplation and reflection. The doctrine of the Four Elements
was abandoned. The form of objects was less thought of than their
matter and its changes. Attempts to discover the laws of these
changes were zealously prosecuted. Knowledge of laws had, as was
easily seen, the advantage of enabling men to predict the course of
events, and with the power of prediction is linked, to some extent,
the power of control. Thus the practical reinforced the theoretic
interest of modern science. Hoffding sketches the progress of these
ideas from Leonardo da Vinci to Galilei. With the establishment
of Kepler's Laws the old animistic explanation of celestial motions
had for ever lost its credibility. The mechanical explanation took
its place. But, besides this, both Kepler and Galilei taught that
arithmetical and geometrical relations pervade all nature. The
watchword of one might have been the watchword of both : ' ubi
materia, ibi geometria.' All real things have their numerical and
geometrical relations, even when, from the imperfection of our cal-
culus, we cannot ascertain or express those relations. By his
maxim ' measure everything, directly or indirectly,' Galilei laid
the foundation of modern exact science.
The influence of the new astronomy and science upon philosophy
is well described by Hoffding in connection with the names of Coper-
nicus, Bruno, and Galilei. The imperfectness of sense-perception as
an organ of science had been proved when the geocentric astronomy
was refuted. Revision of the basis of empirical knowledge was
needed and demanded. The conception of the relativity of motion
had profoundly impressed all speculative minds. Alterations in the
celestial phenomena, long believed to be absolute, were, after all,
relative to the place of the observer. "Suppose the earth away,"
said Bruno, " there would be no sunrise or sunset, no day or night,
no horizon, no meridian." But, if celestial changes are thus relative,
why may not alterations in terrestrial things likewise be relative ?
Changes in the sensible qualities of material objects might be but a
re-arrangement of their minute particles, relatively to one another
and to us. Thus the conception of the subjectivity of these sensible
qualities was introduced. Galilei, indeed, asserted that none of
them actually exist in bodies. The actual qualities of body are, he
said, figure, magnitude, motion and rest. All others, without sentient
and perceiving beings, have no existence.
After the period of new ideas and discoveries came that of efforts
at philosophic reconstruction. Great questions called for new solu-
tions. What is the relation between Soul and Body 1 What is the
relation between God and the World 1 Is Substance many or one 1
What is the real significance of the conception of Purpose 1 Descartes
saw the need of a new system of philosophy. He believed that one
man could frame it better than many, and that he was himself the one
man. His originality in philosophy, as distinct from science, is far
250 CRITICAL NOTICES.
less than has often been supposed. The fundamental position of his
constructive thinking cogito ergo sum had been taken up by many
preceding writers, from St Augustine to Campanella. But he is un-
willing to admit this. His reluctance to acknowledge his indebted-
ness to predecessors is a disagreeable trait in his character. It
almost seems as if the profound and far-reaching scepticism, which,
as Hoffding says, he surmounted with such remarkable rapidity and
success, was, at least partly, an artful device by which he procured
the satisfaction of clearing off, at one coup, his unacknowledged
debts.
Hoffding gives an excellent critical exposition of the cardinal
points in the philosophy of Descartes. In one passage, however, he
seems to treat the latter with something of unfairness. The greatest
service rendered by Descartes to philosophy was, he thinks, that,
by carrying out in an extreme form the doctrine of psychological
dualism which he had received from his predecessors, he brought its
difficulties into a strong and clear light, and thus enabled his suc-
cessors to advance beyond that doctrine. Hoffding, in fact, criticises
Descartes from his own monistic standpoint. What Hoffding's
monism means the following quotation from his Psychology (Ch. II.
8 d Engl. Tr. p. 64) will show : " Both the parallelism and the propor-
tionality between the activity of consciousness and cerebral activity
point to an identity at bottom. The difference which remains, in
spite of the points of agreement, compels us to suppose that one and
the same principle has found its expression in a double form. We
have no right to take mind and body for two beings or substances in
reciprocal interaction. We are, on the contrary, impelled to conceive
the material interaction between the element composing the brain
and nervous system as an outer form of the inner ideal unity of
consciousness. What we in our inner experience become conscious
of as thought, feeling, and resolution, is thus represented in the
material world by certain material processes in the brain which, as
such, are subject to the law of the persistence of energy, though this
law cannot be applied to the relation between the cerebral and
conscious processes. It is as though the same thing were said in
two languages."
This he calls the statement of an empirical formula sufficient for
the purposes of psychology. But it comes perilously near trenching
on the province of Erkenntnistheorie, especially when, a little further
on, he says (p. 67) : "Mind and matter appear to us an irreducible
duality, just as subject and object." He himself distinguishes clearly
in other places between Erkenntnistheorie and Psychophysik. For ex-
ample, in the present volume, pp. 347 8, when criticising Spinoza, he
writes to the following effect : "Spinoza has confounded the relation
between mind and matter with that between knowledge and its
object. Both mind and matter (existence on its mental, as well as
on its material, side) are objects of knowledge, and the Erkenntnis
problem arises on all sides on which existence appears. Erkenntnis-
theorie has to consider and determine the relation of Knowledge to
DR H. HOFFDING : Geschichte der neueren Philosophic. 251
its object ; Psychophysik, the relation of mind to matter. Spinoza's
shifting from one of these points of view to the other arose from
the fact that the problem of ErkenntnistJieorie had not in his time
received the distinct and independent recognition which it has since
obtained. Not until a critical revision of our knowledge has been
made, with reference to our capacity for knowing the mental and
the material sides of existence, can the distinction between the above
points of view emerge."
Now, it is not pretended that Descartes had completely grasped
this distinction ; had he done so, he would not have essayed to
construct a positive theory of the relation between thought and
extension as substances. Yet his cogito, and his manner of insisting
on the first-personal standpoint, prove him to have chosen the con-
ception of self in relation to the object as the true basis for a critical
revision of knowledge. Thought and extension were terms which
for him primarily represented the terms self and object. Therefore
it is that he asserts so strenuously the impossibility of throwing
light on their relation by any process of inductive observation.
When Hoffding (p. 261) contests this assertion, and urges that, on
the contrary, induction and observation alone can supply a sound
hypothesis to explain the relationship, he forgets for the moment
that Descartes' point of view may not be identical with his own,
and commits the logical impropriety of judging Erkenntnistheorie
by the canon of Psychophysik. Hoffding himself, as we have seen-,
teaches that the only relation on which Psychophysik can enlighten
us is that of conscious processes to nervous processes. Here only may
induction and observation be used with success. They cannot help us
to understand the relation between the knower and the object of
knowledge. On this relation none of the physical sciences can shed
light. All of them are functions of its operation. Physical analogies
serve for the interpretation or elucidation of physical facts, but to
demand that they should explain, or contribute towards explaining, the
possibility of knowledge is to demand too much. Clearly as Hoffding
seems to see this, he does not adhere to it consistently : and the
criticism of Descartes, to which attention has been just drawn, seems
to be an instance of such wavering.
Critical philosophy labours under the disadvantage, that its
direct results are negative; that, accordingly, however important for
the ' regulation ' of science in general, it conduces to no particular
scientific results. Physiological psychology, on the other hand,
commends itself, as a department of positive science, to all who
desire concrete conclusions. But psychologists, in the ardour of
their own pursuit, too often either ignore the critical teaching of
Kant, or else, while acknowledging it in their prefaces, feel them-
selves under no obligation to give it practical effect. Their pre-
possession in favour of a positive science is laudable ; but they pay
dearly for their neglect of criticism when, as now and again happens,
they raise an edifice of theory on an illusory basis ; as, for example,
on tbat of mistaken or misapplied metaphors. The critical assault
252 CRITICAL NOTICES.
upon Descartes' theory of the 'two substances' is, doubtless, success-
ful, yet not more so than it would be if directed against Hoffding's
theory of 'one and the same principle finding expression in a double
form.' Neither the constructive dualism of the one, nor the con-
structive monism of the other, can be maintained, as a metaphysical
doctrine : therefore (since they are, virtually, nothing but this) both
should be abandoned.
The passage above quoted from Hoffding's Psychology teems with
metaphors. It refers to a ' parallelism ' between the activity of
consciousness and cerebral activity ; treats the material processes as
' outer ' forms of an ' inner ' unity ; and suggests that we may assume
between them an identity 'at bottom.' The most favourable supposi-
tion respecting this paragraph is, that its author was, when he
wrote, thinking solely from the psychophysical standpoint, and that
he would steadily refrain from expressing himself similarly with regard
to the subject of epistemology. But, even on this supposition,
what, after all, is gained by the ' one principle ' theory except a
' transfigured ' animism ? If not this, then a transfigured materialism,
akin to Mr Herbert Spencer's doctrine of the ' Unknowable'; only
that the agnostic admission is not made by Hoffding with the
delightful frankness of Mr Spencer. But the supposition cannot be
granted without reserve. The tenor of the passage implies, despite
protestations to the contrary, that the terms ' parallelism,' &c. may,
with scarce the need of a palliative mutatis 'mutandis, be applied to
determine, or describe, the relation of self to object. If so, it is
important to observe that the whole burden of the meaning is,
throughout this paragraph, cast upon the metaphors. Let us consider,
for a moment, the validity of those metaphors by whose aid Psycho-
physik tries to supplant Erkenntnistheorie. When gas is turned
into flame, that which, to perception, exhibits itself as light corre-
sponds coinstantaneously with that which, to science, exhibits itself
as an alteration taking place in the molecules of the gas. This
correspondence, may, by a metaphor, be called a parallelism. Again,
when a change in feeling, e.g. from pain to pleasure, takes place, a
correspondence exists between the conscious states and their mole-
cular conditions. This correspondence, also, may be denominated a
parallelism. The 'parallels' in both instances may, likewise, be
referred to as different 'sides,' 'aspects,' &c., of the same fact or
process. The metaphors are as legitimate here, as they are, from
the nature of the case, almost unavoidable. There can be no intrinsic
objection to the employment, in reference to things and processes of
the objective world, of modes of speaking borrowed from that world.
Such are the expressions ' inner, outer ' and others involving spatial
relationship. Still, when these are applied for the purpose of
explaining, in any useful sense, the connexion between conscious
and nervous processes, they are already somewhat strained : more
especially when, by a metaphorical dive into the third dimension, it
is suggested that the ' parallels ' may be united ' at bottom ' in ' one
principle.' Evidently science is here at its wits' end. But can
DR H. HOFFDING: Geschichte der neueren Philosophic. 253
further advance along the same line bring us to philosophy ? Shall
we go on, by the help of these metaphors, to explain, or try to
conceive, self as 'inner,' its object as 'outer'? Not so, unless we
are prepared to accept the notion, fit only for children and savages,
that the thinking Self and the organism are one, or that the former
'resides' somewhere within the pericranium. This would be to cast
criticism to the winds, or require it to begin all over again. When,
in short, attempts are made, openly or covertly, by means of these
metaphors, to render more comprehensible the relation of which all
thinking whatever is a function, we cannot help saying to the
authors of those attempts : "Your theory is refuted by the very
form in which it is expressed ; it is a web of abused metaphor, whose
flimsy texture one touch of criticism would destroy." Descartes'
theory of the two interacting substances is, doubtless, weak, but
Hb'ffding's theory, of the 'one principle at bottom,' is scarcely
stronger. No mere application of terms, however deft and dexterous,
will ever enable us either to rise (with spiritualists), or to descend
(with 'transfigured' animists or materialists), to a point from which
the dualism of knowledge should, for us, merge itself in monism.
In other words, we are but men, and cannot see ourselves and
things sub specie aeternitatis.
Hoffding's inclination towards this theory of 'parallelism' must,
also, have suggested the following criticism of Leibniz (p. 399) :
" If he had, instead of merely conceiving the corporeal in analogy
with the spiritual, also at the same time conceived the spiritual in
analogy with the corporeal, he would have seen the need of assuming
that individual consciousnesses, despite their wondrous stamp of
unity, stand in interaction with the remainder of existences, in virtue
of the Law of Continuity which he strongly emphasises, but applies
only to each individual monad, not to the inter- relationship of the
monads." What our author suggests that Leibniz ought to have done
is precisely what Leibniz' theory of 'apperception' rendered impossible.
How could a writer influenced throughout, as Leibniz was, by the
thought of the spontaneity of self-consciousness, have, consistently
with this, 'conceived the spiritual in analogy with the corporeal'?
That is to say, how could he have substituted the attitude of Psycho-
physik for that of Erkenntnistheorie ? We may observe, however,
that Professor Wundt has, in recent times, facilitated this substitu-
tion, by employing the word ' apperception ' in a sense which accom-
modates it to the service of his favourite science. In a note (Phi/s.
Psych, ii. 236) he explains and defends his own employment of this
characteristically Leibnitian term. Hbffding's general tone of
thought has been considerably influenced by Wundt.
His treatment of Spinoza is masterly, at once highly appreciative
and thoroughly critical. No historian of philosophy has more com-
pletely penetrated the meaning of the 'central philosophic system of
the 17th century,' read the secret of its development, and exposed
its fundamental weakness. The incongruities between ' Spinoza the
mystic ' and ' Spinoza the psychologist ' are here forcibly and clearly
exhibited. With regard to Leibniz, Hoffding is less sympathetic
254 CRITICAL NOTICES.
and, perhaps for that reason, less satisfactory. In some passages,
e.g. in that already mentioned, he seems to treat Leibniz with in-
justice. He speaks of him (p. 372) as a reactionary against the
doctrines of Spinoza, yet unconsciously influenced by Spinoza's fun-
damental thought. But, though there may be much truth in this,
it is hardly fair to tax Leibniz as Hoffding does (p. 396), with lack of
intelligence or candour, for not seeing and acknowledging the essential
connexion, in an important respect, between his own position and
that from which his philosophy was, in spirit, a revolt. Leibniz,
however, was not merely a reactionary. Further on (p. 400) he is
described by our author as a pioneer of the independent speculation
of the 18th century.
Hbffding's article on Hobbes will be welcome to every student.
The character and work of ' the greatest of the 1 7th century dog-
matists ' are unfolded and examined with unusual care and minuteness.
Hoffding possesses, in a high degree, the faculty of character-painting.
The really great writers of whom he treats are made to stand before
the reader as living men, not merely as the authors of certain
theories. A good illustration of this appears in his treatment of
Hobbes, "the first in that series of distinguished investigators in the
sphere of psychology, who are the pride of English philosophy."
The fourth book in this volume is devoted to the ' English
Empirical Philosophy,' to which our author ascribes no small im-
portance. The 'classical English school,' beginning with Locke,
chose for its problem the investigation of the development of human
knowledge, and of the presupposition on which knowledge depends.
Locke and his English successors created its distinct position for the
Erkenntnisproblem, which, in the great dogmatic systems, had been
overshadowed by the Existenzproblem. Dogmatism is the procedure
which, without examining the conditions and limitations of know-
ledge, employs our conceptions to explain existence. Criticism
investigates the faculty of knowledge before beginning to speculate
on existence. The latter commenced definitely with John Locke,
however far Locke himself was from comprehending fully the meaning
and genuine method of criticism. Hoffding informs us that Locke
borrowed his use of the terms ' primary ' and ' secondary ' qualities
of body from Robert Boyle, but that the doctrine which distinguishes
them, though often attributed to Locke as its founder, really began
with Galilei. The latter part of the assertion is scarcely accurate.
The doctrine referred to appears first, in the history of Philosophy,
with the Atomists, Leucippus and Democritus. They first, as far as is
known, distinguished between ' actual ' qualities and such as are only
'affections of our sensibility.' The 'actual qualities' of Galilei
were included in those of the Atomists, motion, figure, magnitude.
Locke's list of ' primary qualities ' coincides more nearly with
Aristotle's list of 'common sensibles,' in which 'number' is added to
the above three qualities 1 . Hoffding is, in general, disposed to
1 The Atomists added BiaOiyj and rpomj, explained by Aristotle as =
rat-is and &Vtf, or 'order' and 'position.' Vide Diels, Doxographi Graeci,
p. 484 ; Aristotle, De Anima, u. 6, 418% 17 ; Met. I. 4, 985 b , 17.
DR H. HOFFDING : Geschichte der neueren Philosophic. 255
think, or lead his readers to think, that nearly all the ruling ideas
of modern philosophy originated in modern times. On the contrary,
while the cardinal methods and aims of science are nearly all modern,
those of philosophy are, for the most part, to be found in the ancient
Hellenic systems. Among the chief exceptions to this are : (a) the
peculiar forms given by Christianity to the Platonic dualism ; (b) the
Leibnitian theory of monads, as centres of spiritual energy ; (c) the
Erkenntnistheorie, or the critical study of the faculty of knowledge,
in the form which it owes to Kant. This subject is one which
should, if space permitted, receive further illustration here.
We notice, with some pleasure, that Hb'ffding has an article ou
Butler, though this feeling is changed on discovering that the
argument of the Analogy (described as eine merkitriirdige Schrift) is,
as usual, misconstrued. Whoever will read Hbffding's observations
(p. 499) on this work, and then those of Mr Leslie Stephen (An
Agnostic's Apology &c. p. 34), will, on comparing both, have some
ground for conjecturing the source whence the former derived their
inspiration. The ground of conjecture will be strengthened when
the reader finds Hb'ffding, a few pages further on, referring to Mr
Leslie Stephen's History of English Thought in the 18th Century.
Mr Leslie Stephen, like Hbffding here, calls attention to grave
difficulties in Butler's argument : but it seems disingenuous to do this
in such a way as to leave the impression that Butler himself was not
fully alive to these difficulties, or had made no effort to grapple with
them. The fact is that, in the Analogy (pt. II. ch. viii. ad init.) will
be found a statement of the principal points urged against him by
Hbffding and Mr Leslie Stephen a statement at least as strong and
clear as any ever made by his ablest and most hostile critics. The
agreement here noticed between Hbffding and Mr Leslie Stephen may
of course be a mere coincidence. But if our author relies for know-
ledge of Butler on the rapid and brilliant critic who has in recent
times most persistently assailed him, it may be observed that a
genuine historic sense might easily have suggested a better course.
After all, for the historian's purpose, the best expositor is, to the
original whom he expounds, what moonlight is to sunlight. But
when the expositor happens to be also the antagonist of his original,
to depend on him for information is, indeed, to guide oneself by a
lux maligna.
The volume before us ends with an account of the French
c Illumination,' and of Rousseau, the only really great figure, during
the 18th century, in the history of French speculation. It is to be
hoped that no reader of Mind will regard anything above said as
intended to disparage the general character of Hoffding's History.
This will, indeed, be a valuable and much needed addition to our
libraries, and one for which sincere gratitude is due to its author.
JOHN I. BEARB.
256 CRITICAL NOTICES.
Studies of Childhood. By JAMES SULLY, M.A., LL.D., Grote Pro-
fessor of Philosophy of Mind and Logic, University College,
London. London and New York : Longmans, Green & Co.,
1895. Pp. viii. 527.
IT has been said that it is only during the decadence of Art that
childhood is represented. The Greek, we are told, dealt only with
the perfected, the complete human being. The child, being immature,
was but rarely introduced, and only came to be considered as Art
declined. If this be so, some may hold that the earnestness
with which we moderns regard and study child life, is but one
amongst the many signs of degeneracy to which Professor Max
Nordau calls our attention. But our age is an age of science rather
than of art, so let us hope that we may give a hearty welcome to
the first careful attempt that has been made in England to study
childhood on a large scale, without fear that by so doing we "delight
in imperfection" and class ourselves amongst the degenerates of
our generation.
Professor Sully's new book, " Studies of Childhood," conveys its
purpose by its title. It is, as he carefully warns us, simply an
attempt to "deal with certain aspects of children's minds which
happen to have come under his notice." Hence we must not look
for a systematic treatise, or a book written for the psychologist,
but rather judge the work from the standpoint of its truth to nature,
and its power to rouse interest amongst those most likely to be
useful in the new close observation of children, i.e. Parents and
Teachers.
Undoubtedly there are serious drawbacks to the method of
treatment. The want of definite plan makes the book extremely
difficult to grasp, and hence very hard to review. We rise from its
perusal with a conviction that there is plenty of material here ; a
number of interesting facts ; charming child stories, often most
skilfully interpreted ; but what we are to learn from it is apt to
elude us. What we have to try to get at is how these studies are
to help us in the future, and what light they throw on the many
problems of childhood.
Professor Sully's work is distinctly that of a pioneer. He points
out clearly to us the direction in which we are to work, showing
us the particular characteristics of childhood about which further
observation is required, e.g. the baby's colour sense, a far more
difficult matter to observe than most people suppose. Again, ob-
servers are urged to collect spontaneous utterances of children ; to
note how far imagination in one direction coexists with imagination
in other directions ; evidence concerning children's dreams is asked
for ; their power of making into actual things, darkness, wind,
shadows ; their disregard of limbs as a part of self ; the exact date
at which the pronoun ' I ' is correctly used ; and the extremely
interesting point as to the effect on the child's ideas of things,
brought about by learning two languages very early in life.
JAMES SULLY: Studies of Childhood. 257
It may be doubted whether "Studies of Gifted Childhood,"
would not be a more appropriate title for the book before us. The
little boy who pretended to paint the furniture with the end of a
rope ; the boy of two and a half who fought battles with imaginary
soldiers ; the boy a little over two, who suggested that a " yump of
sugar would make a bumble bee (have) heat spots " ; the child of
two-and-a-half who told a little story about three bears, who found
a stick and poked the fire with it ; Lyle, who told his father that
he could not eat his crusts after the fashion of his progenitor,
because " God has made you and me different " ; the little two-and-
a-half -year-old artist, who drew Fig. 19, p. 349; were surely all
of them gifted children. But it may be that this view is due to
the lack of opportunity of observation of many children, though
parents seem inclined to agree with it.
It would seem that boys are far cleverer than girls, from Pro-
fessor Sully's collection of stories, or is it that parents are wont
to pay more attention to the sayings and doings of their sons than
of their daughters ? I suspect that this is the true state of the case.
In regard to Imagination ; some observers of children may be
inclined to dissent from some of Professor Sully's conclusions. He
tells us a tale of a little child who attributed intelligence even to
stones, and who used to think the pebbles must be dull for want of
change, and to carry them in her basket to another spot that they
might get a different view. This Professor Sully thinks a proof
of considerable imaginative power, and a quaint expression of
sympathy with the insentient world. But is not this an imagi-
nation of a lower order, in which the child could not soar beyond
the attribution of its own experiences to the inanimate world?
The child, it seems to me, has taken a higher flight of imagination
when he is able to picture stones and trees as living a distinctly
different life of their own, and it is imagination of this kind which
will lead the child to develop into the sympathetic comrade who
can " put himself into his neighbour's shoes," and rejoice in a joy
different in many ways to that he has himself experienced. We
might expect the child of the pebbles to grow up capable of
sympathy with pains or joys experienced by herself, but not with
joy and pain unknown to her, unless a further development of
imaginative power took place.
Again, Professor Sully attributes children's jealous exactness
as to accuracy in repetition to the child's perfect gift of visual
detailed realization. No doubt the upset of the mental picture
is one great cause of the child's eager insistance on exact repetition,
but this does not seem a sufficient explanation. The little
boy of three who was terribly distressed because his grand-
mother, when reading a story, said she was ill of scarlet fever,
protested, "Oh no, Grannie she didn't have scarlet fever. When
mother reads it to me, she is ill but she hasn't scarlet fever," could
scarcely have suffered from a shock to visualization, and his whole
attitude was that of righteous indignation because his worthy
M. 17
258 CRITICAL NOTICES.
grandparent had failed in truthfulness. The child's extreme love
of truth and accuracy seems to be a factor in this characteristic,
and also, it may be, another childish feature, which Professor Sully
scarcely seems to dwell upon enough, i.e. the child's extreme con-
servatism. To the child, what has been, must be. It hurts his
sense of propriety to suffer change, and this often happens when
the change is clearly for the better. In a class of infants, in a
Poor Law School, it was a long time before the new introduction
of the Kinder Garten system of teaching appealed to them. They
preferred the dullest counting by rote to the manipulation of the
most tempting yellow shells; the dry repetition of words, to the
examination of the brightest picture.
Our author's delightful sympathy with individual child-life is
manifest throughout this chapter, as indeed it is throughout the
whole book, and he throws much light on the vividness with which
children throw themselves into fictitious characters, as, for example,
when the mother kissed the little girl of four who was playing at
shop with a younger sister, she broke into piteous sobs and at last
sobbed out, " Mother you never kiss the man in the shop." Also
the way in which the child attributes life to inanimate objects, as
when Lyle said of his wooden horse, "Dobbin is tin (skin) and bone.
No tarpenter made Dobbin. Dod made Dobbin."
On the whole this chapter scarcely deserves the title of the age
of imagination, but rather the age of make-belief : for imagination
in its highest development belongs, as Professor Sully himself shows
in "The Human Mind," to the most advanced stage of human culture.
In the particularly interesting chapter on the products of childish
thought, it seems as if Professor Sully scarcely made allowance
enough for the constant instruction which the child receives at the
hands of grown-up people. He draws our attention to this fact
in regard to the child's ideas of birth and death, but looks upon the
child's tendency to regard all that takes place as designed for us
poor mortals as a natural anthropocentric tendency, shared alike by
child and savage. Surely the careful instruction of grown-up folk plays
some part here. First we have the ignorant nurse and mother teaching
the child that " the naughty table " made him fall, and " the kind sun
has come out just in time for his walk." Later he learns, "Thank
you pretty cow that made Pleasant milk to soak my bread " a verse
which has much to be responsible for. And the extreme teaching
of purpose and design in every detail of animal life, so often given
in the Kinder Garten, helps the child, who so closely identifies him-
self with all living creatures, to accept the view that all is made and
done for him. Later on this view is greatly strengthened when stuffed
birds and squirrels are procured for his lessons and museums, shot
for him, he thinks, in order that he may see and learn.
The treatment of the development of the idea of God is very
slight. There is surely far more to be said on this matter, especially
in regard to those children who have had little direct theological
teaching.
JAMES SULLY : Studies of Childhood. 259
I am very doubtful whether Professor Sully's hypothesis, that
the child's first words really imply sentences, will bear the light
of closer investigation, though he has the support of Preyer, and
I believe, Romanes. According to our author "Down" means
a complete sentence, either "The spoon has tumbled down," or
"Lift me down." Professor Lloyd Morgan holds that the word
"down" is "simply a definite sound that the child has learnt to
associate with a particular piece of sense experience." He knows
that when he utters the sound "down" he will have the experience
of passing through space from chair to floor ; and when the spoon
falls, he expresses this fact also by the sound "down" because the
sound is connected with more than one kind of sense experience.
It is not, he maintains, until the child begins to perceive relations
that he uses sentences, which are not therefore merely fuller ex-
pressions of ideas already held, but expressions of a new order of
ideas.
There are several points in which Professor Sully seems to have
broken quite new ground. The idea of gradual diminution in size,
which some children seem to expect will happen to grown-up people,
is quite new to me, though the idea so common to many little
girls, that they will by and by become boys, is not dwelt upon.
Again, his view that children reify the dark, and regard it as
a kind of monster whose eyes are represented by the slightly
luminous spots, throws quite a flood of light upon some of the horrors
of childhood, and seems to call up dim remembrances of the long
buried past. The whole treatment of fear is most useful, and it is
well that so much prominence should be given to a feeling that
is one of the most marked in early childhood, and to which the
attention of parents cannot be too earnestly called, as the fears
of childhood have such a marked effect on character ; and it is for
this reason that it is impossible not to regret that Professor Sully
has not dwelt more on those religious fears which form so large
a part of the intense sufferings of childhood. The sermons on the
great white throne delivered by some emphatic but thoughtless
curate, the account of the last day and the sound of the trumpet,
have done more to make the young life a perpetual terror than
many adults can realize. Children's lies too are so carefully
accounted for that the parent trembling for his child's future
may surely take courage, and trust to time and fact to cure the
romancing propensities of little ones. Let us hope that Professor
Sully's exposition on this point will do something to save small folks
from the " sound whippings " that are deemed salutary for supposed
deceit.
The development of the child's artistic powers, or rather of
his intense desire to express himself, deserves a far larger notice than
space will allow. It is pleasant to find so strong a plea for children's
natural truthfulness, and I am reminded by p. 264 of a whole family
of children who each in turn played with a toy-market, and at the
ages of three and four always made the supposed thieves reply
172
260 CRITICAL NOTICES.
to the policeman's "You bad man, what have you done?" "I've
stolen a potato," etc. Later in life, as the children's imitative powers
grew, the fictitious characters lied boldly and suffered double punish-
ment.
Professor Sully takes perhaps a somewhat optimistic view of
childhood. He looks upon it as a region undisturbed by the stir
and stress of our introspective, and in some respects worldly minded,
nineteenth century. He appreciates to the full the woes and
sorrows of child life, as is shown over and over again, especially
in the touching story of little C's cry of pain, "You don't under-
stand me," but he thinks the child-world free from modern taint.
Is this so? Has not Professor Sully been in some strange way
saved from such stories as the following, for the truth of which
I can vouch? " Don't be so silly, K," said a parent to his ten-year-
old daughter. " I can't help it, Father," was the prompt reply, " I've
inherited it from Mother." A small child of four, who was about
to be photographed in a Kinder Garten group, remarked with a
world- worn air, " I'm perfectly sick of being photographed " : and
another girl, older by some seven summers, observed that she felt as
if nothing were left to be done by way of amusement. But what
could be expected when the same child was allowed to keep awake,
after her evening prayers had been said, to see the patterns for her
new dress that came by the last post ? Has not modern life, from
Nordau's point of view, crept in here with a vengeance 1 If we
would keep childhood as sacred and undisturbed an abode as Professor
Sully pictures it, we must be careful how we extend our scientific
observations in that direction. "We cannot do better than follow
the admirable example given us in "Extracts from a Father's Diary,"
where little C is watched with such unobtrusive observation through
the opening years of his life, and has grown up to boyhood absolutely
unaware that he had been the subject of such watchful care.
There is a great danger lest, in our eagerness for discovery, we
should ply the child too closely with questions. As Professor Sully
says, the child who knows he is observed will soon begin to act for
effect, and we may add that his answers to questions will not be
absolutely true accounts of his inner state. Take for instance
Mr Stanley Hall's paper on Fear, in which the child is asked to
state what he is afraid of. To the child fear is cowardly, and
it does not cross his mind that not to admit fear is untruthful.
Those of us who were supposed by our parents to have no fear of
the dark would have died rather than confess on paper that we
went trembling up to bed ; that the clang of the back door made
us race along the dark passage and up the wooden staircase, with
a conviction that all the bogies that haunted the house were
behind us !
Even such a question as this put to children, "What do you
think are the differences between a child and grown-up people ? "
is a very doubtful one. It at once places the child in a critical
attitude towards his elders. Either he crystallizes the bad opinions
JAMES SULLY : Studies of Childhood. 261
he entertains of injustice and unkindness, or is led to give an
inaccurate or untruthful account which he thinks will win him
favour. The true way to get at knowledge of child-life is to have
a child-friend whose confidences are very close, who tells us truly
what he feels and thinks as he sits on our knee, and who brings
to us his childish troubles as C. brings his to his parents. The boy
of about eight who eagerly took up the idea of his brother and
himself changing places with his aunt and her friend, and with
a deliciously ironical air said, " And then I know what we'll do.
We'll take you both to the quay and then, just as you are enjoying
yourselves, we shall say, ' Don't go near the edge, you'll fall in ' ! "
revealed one of the keenest troubles of boy-life in a way that would
never have been expressed on paper.
To gain a true knowledge we must be content to work very
slowly ; to cultivate in ourselves keen powers of observation ;
and to accumulate as many extracts from a father's, mother's
or teacher's diary, after the pattern before us, as possible. The
great lesson taught to all parents and teachers is that, unless they
are on intimate terms with little ones, very slight advance will be
made in Child-Study. " Children are frank only before the eye of
love." But in combination with the moral excellencies, needed for
an adequate treatment of children's questions and difficulties, there
must be also a scientific mind.
Intellectual as well as moral insight is needed, and those will
prove the best observers who are fully conscious of their own
infirmities and the difficulties of their task, and who bring to bear
upon it an inexhaustible patience and a determination to put aside
all prejudice, and preconceived notions. First observation, then
hypothesis, lastly verification, and this process over and over again
repeated, will be our only chance of solving the enigma of child-life.
The chapter on the child as draughtsman is perhaps the most
original in the book, and opens up a delightful field for research.
ALICE WOODS.
Evolution in Art : as illustrated by the Life-history of Designs. By
ALFRED C. HADDON, Professor of Zoology, Royal College of
Science, Dublin. London: Walter Scott, 1895. Pp. xviii, 354.
PROFESSOR Haddon is one of a growing number of men who are
intent on tracing backwards the metamorphoses of ornament, in
order that they may disclose its cause, its origin and its meaning,
and because they regard the subject as an essential part of the
larger question of the evolution of art.
It is an interesting fact that of this band of students those who
have been most successful in their search have been biologists. But
Professor Haddon is too modest when he declares that he is "neither
an artist nor an art-critic, but simply a biologist who has had his
262 CRITICAL NOTICES.
attention turned to the subject of decorative art." In this confession
he has laid himself open to the thrust of the predatory reviewer,
who has not hesitated to reply that " art cannot expect much at
the hands of science " (Manchester Guardian).
Perhaps science cannot expect much from those who are artists
only, or art-critics by profession. For in truth the lore of ornament
and of art has already become a science and, like that of organic
evolution, requires the patience and the acuteness of a Darwin.
Certainly none but a man trained in embryology could have satis-
factorily followed the transformations of the "arrow-ornament,"
found in Torres Straits (p. 22), which originated in a realistic
representation of a crocodile, and passed through successive changes,
with displaced nostrils, eyes elongated into a panel, limbs lost, and
cloacal plate permanently decorated, until a design was evolved that
seems purely geometrical. And none but a zoologist could so well
have written one of the most interesting chapters of this book, on
the application of biological deductions to designs, in which Pro-
fessor Haddon maintains, though he hardly proves, that the genesis,
growth, and decay of any artistic motif are subject to the same laws
that govern the evolution of living organisms.
In all scientific treatises two things are needful, definitions and
a nomenclature. No one can define the meaning of words better
than Professor Haddon, yet from the present work preliminary
definition is almost absent. The important word " ornament " is
not defined. It is only on the 314th page that we are told that
"in patterns the two essential elements are symmetry and repe-
tition," and we are nowhere reminded of the marvellous results of
serial arrangement, nor of the fact that symmetry itself is a form of
repetition. He assumes too much knowledge on the part of the
general reader. On the other hand his nomenclature is welcome
and satisfactory. Its need has long been felt. He divides "pat-
terns" into skeuomorphs and biomorphs, and the latter into
phyllomorphs and zoomorphs, of which the anthropomorph is a
branch ; whilst he adds the term physicomorph to denote a design
founded upon a process or a phenomenon (p. 118).
A skeuomorph is an embellishment demonstrably derived from
some utilitarian structural artifice; and the "rope pattern" is a
good example of one. A zigzag may be a skeuornorph. In some
particular case, as on bronze celts for example, it represents a
ligature. But in other cases it may be a zoomorph. Thus Professor
Haddon proves that crocodiles' legs (p. 23), the head and beak of a
bird (p. 51), snakes (p. 176), the body of alligators (p. 171), the
legs of frogs (p. 214), the extended wings of bats (p. 175), and
human extremities (p. 271), may all work out at last, under pro-
longed artistic treatment, into simple geometrical zigzags. He
shews, too, that the zigzag may even be derived from an entire
article of women's clothing (p. 97), and so must be called, in his
terminology, a physicomorph ; and this designation must also
include the zigzags of water and of lightning. On the other hand,
ALFRED c. HADDON : Evolution in Art. 263
that a zigzag often represents a plant-form, is often a phyllomorph,
is easily proved.
A number of zigzags, then, may be precisely similar in appear-
ance, and yet their origin may be altogether diverse. They may be
homologous, as Professor Haddon puts it, but not analogous; and it
is highly convenient to be able, by means of a nomenclature, to
divide and to classify them.
One main purpose of the work is to show how and under what
laws the figure of an animal or of a plant passes through those
changes that ultimately make it indistinguishable from a skeuo-
morph, that render it subservient to decoration, and that reduce it
to what were once thought to be primary geometrical forms.
The realistic animal figure, once recognised, continues to be
recognised, no less, the while it undergoes gradual generalisation
and simplification, the while it becomes gradually conventionalised.
Its original purpose continues to be sufficiently served, for there is
no breach in the continuity of observers.
It must not be supposed, however, that in effecting this abbre-
viation there is any conscious desire on the part of the artificer to
"save time and trouble"; such an expenditure would, among
"savages," be a pleasurable occupation of mind and body. But,
nevertheless, action takes place in lines of least resistance, mentally
and physically ; and time and trouble are bestowed on multiplying
resultant motifs, in spreading simpler forms over a widening area,
and not at all in elaborating the original.
When a zoomorph is to break up into a zigzag or a scroll of a
severe type, other factors in the process are the kind of cutting
implement used, the nature of the material to be embellished,
and the particular skeuomorph that happens to dominate the
artificer's mind, that is most frequently followed by his eye, and
that attracts to itself, as it were, and assimilates all approximate
delineations.
But sometimes, as in Scandinavian art, the animal figure, in
transforming itself into decorative designs, was not sharpened or
attenuated or degraded, but rose into magnificent scrolls and swept
the ornamental field with curves of rare beauty and dignity. Such
an ascent is to be ascribed to the reinforcement of an artistic bent
by the confluence of a foreign art-current, by what Professor Haddon
calls "cross-fertilisation" (p. 150), as when Scandinavian tendencies
were stimulated by a flood of Byzantine influence.
In this connection it is not a little odd that those parts of a
dissolving zoomorph that longest survive so as to be distinctly
recognised are very various. As regards the human figure, it is
often the tongue that alone is left, or the legs ; with bats, it is the
wings extended in flight ; with lizards, the foot in the form of a
semicircular boss ; and with other animals, the mouth or the eye.
The reason of this it would be easy to conjecture, but difficult to
demonstrate. Attention, expectancy, the near approach to a skeuo-
morphic homologue, and the ever-acting need of utility in the object
264 CRITICAL NOTICES.
that is decorated, would operate as factors, though not to the
exclusion of others.
When the zoomorph has been traced to its source it becomes
necessary to account for the animal presentment itself. What led
the prehistoric cave-dweller to carve the figure of a reindeer on the
handle of his flint knife ? Why did Hervey Islanders incise upon
their paddles the form of a woman ? Why is an alligator depicted
on the ware of Chiriqui ?
Professor Haddon sets himself to answer such questions as these.
Magic, that must have an imitation of the beings it wishes to
control ; totemism, that requires a token of kinship and clanship ;
metempsychosis, that sees bestial forms inhabited by the spirits of
deceased men ; pride of descent, that carves upon personal posses-
sions the features of a tribal ancestor ; religion, that finds abstract
adoration made easier by the presence of an idol, of a symbol ; such
as these are the forces that originated the animal image. And in
some cases such forces as these originated the vegetal representation
also. Mr Goodyear has demonstrated that religion brought the
lotus into the lovely art of Egypt, as the symbol of the sun, of life,
of fertility, of the multiple soul ; and lotus-derivatives, Nymphsean
phyllomorphs, are now ubiquitous in every quarter of the globe.
It is however one of the merits of Professor Haddon's work to
have shown that ornamental motifs exist that are not lotus-deriva-
tives although closely resembling them. There are scrolls and frets
that are skeuomorphs of basketry (p. Ill); the guilloche is some-
times a zoomorph (p. 50), and the sigmoid curve likewise (p. 55) ;
whilst the double scroll that is usually called Mycenaean, and that
certainly came from the banks of the Nile, has been independently
evolved from the eye and beak of the frigate-bird in the " Massim "
District (p. 50). The causes that have brought the lotus and the
frigate-bird to precisely the same peculiar and beautiful pattern in
which no one, without instruction, could discover a trace either of
animal or of flower, have been indicated, but they form part of a
great and serious psychological problem.
Professor Haddon gives a valuable word of warning (p. 333) to
those who interrogate minds of a low order. Careful questioning is
absolutely necessary and should never be omitted in seeking for an
interpretation of " designs " among the people who use them. Such
persons are apt to say not what they know but what they think, or
what they imagine would please or satisfy the inquirer. Or they
will relate the gloss of a missionary. Familiarity with the growth
of eponymic legends must prepare the investigator for a like phan-
tasm, " the myth of observation."
Professor Haddon has but little to say on the curious fact that
in some civilisations there emerges now and then a love of asym-
metry ; a subject on which Mr Goodyear is preparing a work.
This revolt against symmetry, that startles and refreshes us in
Japanese decorative art, that seems to have sprung up like a
" sport" in minds saturated with formality, is to be found by those
ALFRED c. HADDON : Evolution in Art. 265
who look for it widely illustrated in the Gothic mediaeval archi-
tecture of the Continent. It is justly observed (p. 201), however,
that symmetry may be exhibited in the equal balancing of dissimilar
designs.
The occurrence of " paired " animal forms in various parts of the
world has not yet been explained. It seems that in Torres Straits,
in order to mark ownership on certain objects, such as drums and
pipes, two precisely similar animal figures are symmetrically disposed
with regard to the middle line. Professor Haddon noticed that
these paired forms, such as the cassowary, the dugong, the snake,
the stingray (p. 17), were also tattooed in duplicate upon women's
backs, and were known to be totem animals. He remarks (p. 18)
that this pairing strongly recalls the " supporters " of our armorial
bearings, and that there is reason to believe that these perpetuate
in some instances the totem ancestors of our savage forefathers.
There is moreover good reason to believe that the remote progenitors
of many peoples practised tattooing. It is pretty certain that those
of the Egyptians did so. Now in Egyptian art there was a frequent
grouping of animals in pairs, but they were arranged back to back.
In Assyria and Greece such coupled animals faced each other.
Elsewhere, as in our own " lion and unicorn," the animals differ,
but yet are symmetrically disposed. It would not be very surprising
if it should turn out that this method of grouping originated in a
custom of tattooing correspondent surfaces of the human body with
the same design, of depicting the totem on each arm or leg, or on
each side of the median line of the trunk.
No one interested in such subjects as these can neglect Professor
Haddon's work. It is too comprehensive to be discussed in a brief
notice. It is perhaps more comprehensive than a strictness of
preliminary definition would have permitted. It even deals with
the origin of the letters of the alphabet. But of this the reader has
the advantage. It is especially valuable as containing a large
amount of personal observation and original research together with
much suggestiveness and ingenuity.
For a second edition slips of the pen and printers' errors should
be eliminated. Such an expression as " a design may be apparently
fairly uniformly distributed" (p. 327) mars an interesting paragraph,
but it is more readily perceived by the critic than by the writer.
These are insignificant blemishes. All fellow students will be
grateful to him for what he has so well achieved.
HY. COLLEY MARCH.
266 CRITICAL NOTICES.
Buckle and his Critics : A Study in Sociology. By JOHN MACKINNON
ROBERTSON. London : Swan Sonnenschein & Co. 1895. Pp.
xv., 565.
THE volume before us affords a valuable analysis by one of Buckle's
most thorough-going admirers of both the philosophical system
embodied in the History of Civilization and also of the best criticism
which that epoch-making work has since evoked. Adequately to
assess the value of the criticism to which Mr Robertson in turn
subjects the critics, would require a volume of corresponding
dimensions ; we can here only briefly note one or two of his main
objections to their several points of view and describe, as concisely
as may be, the main features of his own. In his preface he does
not scruple to affirm that "to read Buckle's detractors is an
education in the knowledge of human perversity, fallibility, and
profligacy of blame ; " and declares himself " convinced that the
common depreciation of Buckle in recent years is in a large measure
the result of slovenly reading and slatternly thinking on the part of
men wont to sit in judgment on their fellows." It is perhaps
somewhat to be regretted that at the outset he should have given
such strong expression to his views, when throughout the following
500 pages it is his aim at least to appear as an impartial arbiter
between his author and his critics. Nor, indeed, is it easy to resist
the impression that in the great majority of the criticisms to which
he here in turn successively subjects each hostile writer, Mr
Robertson may at least claim to be fairer to his author than those
have been whom he encounters in his defence. As regards Buckle
and his great work it might, at first sight, well appear that the
argumentum ad verecundiam is almost irresistible. When writers
of such high attainments and various renown as Dr Tylor, Darwin,
Macaulay, Matthew Arnold, Mr Leslie Stephen, Mr Gladstone,
Mr John Morley, Mark Pattison, Sir Henry Maine, Bishop Stubbs
and Vorlander, combine in almost unanimous disparagement of this
immature production of a comparatively young writer, dying at
Damascus at the age of forty, whose views had been formed in no
school and his intellect disciplined at no university, it requires some
moral courage to call in question the verdict of such a tribunal.
On calmer consideration, however, it may fairly be said that the
impression produced by so formidable a consensus of opinion
becomes considerably modified. In the first place, it is certain that
Buckle, young as he was, knew a great deal more than the majority
of his critics. Lookers on, thinking mainly of his youth, were apt
to forget how much a mind of great power and originality, with
every advantage of leisure and opportunity, working continuously
and connectedly for a lengthened period, is able to achieve.
Between his father's and his own death, Buckle led an almost
uninterrupted career of quiet, concentrated, independent study ex-
tending over nearly twenty years. When we remember that it
J. M. ROBERTSON : Buckle and his Critics. 267
took Gibbon about the same time from the commencement of his
History to carry it to completion, we are reminded how much can be
achieved under such circumstances; and "since Gibbon's time," in
Mr Leslie Stephen's opinion (which Mr Robertson cites) "no
Englishman of letters has devoted himself so systematically and
vigorously to erect a literary monument worthy of the highest
abilities as did Henry Thomas Buckle." In fact, Buckle's mental
powers throughout his literary career were all aglow, and Mr
Robertson appeals very justly to his known remarkable linguistic
acquirements and his singular skill as a chess player as proof
that in two very different fields of acquirement his merits were
incontestable : in the former case, as possessed of an extraordinary
memory and a singular aptitude for mastering the technicalities of
language, in the latter, as endowed with admirable powers of
synthesis. From Abelard, downwards, minds thus precocious and
of intense luminosity, have, at rare intervals, flashed meteor-like
across the domain of human thought, concentrating in a few years
the energy and achievements of many a well spent life of ordinary
duration. In the next place, the agreement of his critics cannot be
regarded as cumulative evidence. It was the outcome very largely
of jealousy and dislike, supercilious contempt for a young man,
who, not having taken a first class at either University, ventured to
lay down the law for those who held themselves intellectually his
betters. That agreement was the result also, far too frequently,
of ignorance rather than of knowledge. "Nothing," says Mr
Robertson, " has struck me so much in the investigation of the
criticism passed on Buckle as the sheer ignorance of his book on the
part of most of his assailants" (p. 36). And, thirdly, it is to be
remembered that Buckle, dying in 1862, just missed, as did
J. S. Mill, that development of the Darwinian theory of evolution,
which, could he have lived to grasp it as applicable to social
phenomena, must have afforded him new and invaluable guidance
in formulating his bold generalizations. As it was, those generali-
zations, sometimes hasty and often imperfect and consequently in
part erroneous, but rarely without some germ of valuable truth and
always eminently suggestive, were assailable at various points to an
extent of which his numerous antagonists were not slow to avail
themselves. It was not a fort or a strong castle but a city, whose
walls in their entire and vast circumference might scarcely be
surveyed from its loftiest watchtower, that Buckle had to hold and
defend. Since then, a generation has passed away ; and Mr
Robertson, calling to his aid a new literature and many a notable
utterance, has undertaken the task (certainly no light one) of
demonstrating that on all the more important questions at issue the
weight of evidence is still in favour rather of Buckle than of his
assailants. To preserve the metaphor, the defences of the city
were, after all, constructed on more really scientific principles than
most of the engines of the besiegers. Mr Robertson gives us,
accordingly, seriatim, the various arguments and objections of the
268 CRITICAL NOTICES.
writers above-named and subjects them to a very rigorous and
minute criticism. Intellectually, he appears to resemble his author
but slightly. If Buckle's foible was rash and imperfectly considered
generalization, his defender's is certainly that of excessive re-
finement and subtlety. Duns Scotus himself could scarcely, in some
cases, have further prolonged the argument ; and when Mr Robertson
is to be found stopping to cavil at Mr Leslie Stephen's employment
of a somewhat careless "indeed," the reader is apt to grow im-
patient and to hurry by more real and serious criticism. Briefly,
however, to sum up the writer's chief indictments, we find
Mr Leslie Stephen arraigned on various points : his arguments
against Buckle's theory of the relation between climate and civili-
zation, his misrepresentation of Buckle's opinion that "a per-
manent and continuous development of man's moral and intellectual
qualities " is still, scientifically, unproven, his assertion that he
" cannot help feeling that more philosophy is held in solution in
a few pages of Old Mortality or the Heart of Midlothian than in a
hundred such volumes as Buckle's," and, finally, his criticism of
Buckle's somewhat vague and contradictory language with regard
to the employment and comparative value of the inductive and
deductive methods. On the first of these questions, Mr Robertson
certainly appears to have the better of the critic. Mr Leslie Stephen
objects to Buckle's theory of the influence of climate, that "the relation
between climate and civilization is not constant " (p. 50). To this Mr
Robertson rejoins that it is " like saying that the law of gravitation
ceases to operate when you climb a ladder " ; and his argument in
reply is certainly supported by the principles laid down by Professor
Ratzel in his Anthropo-Geographie.
In dealing with Theodore Parker's criticisms, which challenged
alike the plan of the History and the List of Authorities cited by
the author, the stress laid by Buckle on the influence of natural
phenomena (as seen in the terrorism of the Hindu religion) and
of diet, as shown in the greater or less activity of imagination Mr
Robertson urges arguments the force of which is undeniable. " We
must take," he says, " all the phenomena into account together, for
the complete explanation. The distance between the athletic
Greek and his Gods was comparatively small, in terms of his self-
confidence as well as in terms of the less awful aspects of his
environment ; the distance between the Hindu and his Gods was
great, in terms of his physical abjection as well as in terms of the
tremendousness of Nature ; the effect of Nature on thought being
thus seen to be operant through physique as well as through ideas "
(p. 86). As regards the elements which went to build up the
phenomenal development of ancient Greece, he points out that
" while the mythology of India grew or fructified in the vast Indian
regions, a world in themselves, with no definitely foreign interference,
the cultures of ancient Greece represent a complex of four civili-
zations"
In dealing with certain " Academic Criticisms," Mr Robertson
j. M. ROBERTSON : Buckle and his Critics. 269
points out that Gibbon, Grote, Finlay, Lewes and Huxley owed
nothing to Universities, and he holds that Professor Fiske has " not
been prudent in prompting an inquiry which reveals that a great
deal of the most original and important research and thinking done
in England for generations has been achieved by men who either
never attended a University or got next to nothing for such
attendance" (p. 105). "When we admit," he says elsewhere,
"that Buckle missed what disciplinary good the school and the
University can yield to youth, we must not forget that he probably
was what he finally was in part because he wholly escaped the
averaging influence of the English public school and University
training, so strangely potent for the destruction or restriction of all
originality of mind" (pp. 5201). Passing by the chapter on the
" Anti-scientific View of History " (in which Dr Stubbs and
Professor Froude figure as the chief offenders), we come to Chapter
XI on "Buckle's real Errors." In this Mr Robertson sets forth
" a number of faults " which he has himself discovered in his
author's pages, but which he holds when corrected " leave the main
values of his book only the more certain." One of these corrections
strikes us as singularly happy and just. Buckle, in his first chapter,
ventures on one of those dangerous generalizations which so fre-
quently shake our faith in his guidance. "The most celebrated
historians," he observes, "are manifestly inferior to the most
successful cultivators of physical science : no one having devoted
himself to history who in point of intellect is at all to be compared
with Kepler, Newton, or many others that might be named " (p.
362). Mr Robertson rightly says that "on any view the proposition
will not stand. Newton and Kepler represent one great kind of
capacity ; but they also had a great capacity for quite commonplace
error, and it is quite impossible to make any relative measurement
of their powers as compared with those of Gibbon" (pp. 362-3). In
fact a unit of comparison is altogether wanting.
The concluding chapter on "Buckle's Personality" is of con-
siderable interest ; and not the least valuable portion of the volume
is the Summary of Buckle's theory, as Mr Robertson interprets it,
presented in the Appendix, together with the "Additions and
Modifications " which he would himself suggest.
J. BASS MULLINGER.
VII NEW BOOKS.
Florentine Painters. By BERNHARD BERENSON, author of Venetian
Painters, Lorenzo Lotto. New York : Putnam, 1896. Pp. 141.
I HAVE asked leave to introduce to the readers of Mind a book ap-
parently destined for a very different public, because I am convinced
that, instructive to students and lovers of art as Mr Berenson's " Tuscan
Painters " is bound to prove, its great and original suggestiveness is fully
appreciable only by professed psychologists.
That Mr Berenson himself is not a student of mental science, that
he does not write for students thereof, and that his book shows no traces of
psychological training, are circumstances which, as it seems to me,
enhance rather than diminish the interest of his work in the eyes of
psychologists. For we get in this volume a coincidence with some of the
most significant recent psychological discoveries and hypotheses, which
is convincing for the very reason that it comes, not as a result of philo-
sophical speculation on the connexion between art and other mental
phenomena, but in the course of an attempt, on the part of an already
distinguished connoisseur and art-historian, to make others share the
aesthetic emotions of which he is himself aware.
The subject of aesthetics, of the how and why of the perceptive and
emotional phenomena connected with art and the Beautiful, is one which
has occupied my own thought for many years, and upon which, in con-
sequence, I have myself arrived at a certain number of conclusions. With
these conclusions the facts and theories propounded by Mr Berenson by no
means tally either as whole or parts ; but such differences, however
considerable, are thrown into the shade by my thorough agreement with
the method and the spirit which Mr Berenson has applied to aesthetic
problems ; so that the brief space of a review will be more profitably
employed by my placing Mr Berenson's views before the readers of Mind
rather than by my criticising them in the light of my own experiences
and hypotheses. And first, about the rank which the aesthetic pheno-
menon takes in life and life's development. Mr Berenson holds that, so
far from the aesthetic phenomenon being, as we have been told, a species
of accident in evolution, a sporadic activity which has survived, "like
sea-sickness" says Mr W. James, without any apparent reason for survival,
the aesthetic phenomenon has a very distinct raison d'etre in the fact
that it represents a direct increase of vitality, or, as Mr Berenson ex-
presses it, that "art alone can give us the life-enhancing qualities of
objects."
This life-enhancing power of art is not however sufficiently explicable
by the reasons given by contemporary aesthetics ; or rather, contemporary
aesthetics, not having recognised the specific properties of art, have failed
NEW BOOKS. 271
to explain artistic pleasure by reasons sufficiently specific to that form
of pleasure : artistic pleasure, in painting (of which Mr Berenson ex-
clusively treats) has been explained, for instance, by sensations in the
visual apparatus, helped out by an army of ideational and emotional
associations, and generally dismissed from psychological analysis as a case
of the play instinct, itself a very vague entity indeed.
But Mr Berenson, basing his notion upon what he perceives as going
on inside himself, offers an explanation which, without discarding any of
those previously given, reduces them to mere coincident factors. The
main pleasure of painting, he says, is due to the very special manner
in which painting can make us realise spatial relations and movement :
this special manner of realisation producing directly the sense of
heightened vitality.
But how can realisation of spatial relations and of movement act in
any way upon a phenomenon so organic, so bodily, as the sense of
vitality ?
Stripped of certain complications and (as I think) contradictions,
Mr Berenson's answer can be reduced to a very startling formula : " We
realise objects," says Mr Berenson (p. 84), "when we perfectly translate
them into terms of our own states, our own feelings."
And this formula must not be understood in any metaphorical fashion.
The states to which Mr Berenson alludes are bodily states, the feelings are
such as are accompanied or actually produced by bodily sensations. " We
watch (p. 86) those tautnesses of muscles and those stretchings and
relaxings and ripplings of skin which, translated into similar strains in our
own persons, make us fully realise movement." The thorough realisation
by a painter of the spatial relations, of what Mr Berenson calls the tactile
values of the objects represented, produces in the thoroughly appreciative
observer much more than the mere cold intellectual awareness which has
hitherto satisfied writers on aesthetics : " Our tactile imagination is put to
play immediately. Our palms and fingers accompany our eyes more
quickly than in the presence of real objects, the sensations varying
constantly with the various projections represented, as of face, torso,
knees, etc." (p. 12). Still greater is this activity of our own muscular
sense where not merely spatial relations, but movement is efficiently
forced on our realisation by the painter " unless (p. 50) my retinal
impressions are immediately translated into images of strain and pressure
in my muscles, of resistance to my weight, of touch all over my body, it
means nothing to me in terms of vivid (visual) expression."
Briefly : first, all vivid visual perception is due to the conversion of
ocular impressions into feelings of bodily activity ; second, such bodily
activity produces a sense of living in those who experience it ; and third,
painting having the means of producing such a condition by processes
more direct, more efficacious and more economical than those of reality,
painting possesses the power of enhancing the sense of our own vitality.
The painter has selected, isolated and reinforced all the characteristics
which increase, 'without exhausting, the energy of him who perceives them.
Hence we get in painting what Mr Berenson describes as a "hyperaesthesia
not bought with drugs, and not paid for with cheques drawn on our
vitality," and thanks to it we very literally " feel as if the elixir of life, not
our own sluggish blood, were coursing through our veins."
Such is the essence of Mr Berenson's hypothesis. The reader of his
volume will find it there complicated unnecessarily and even contra-
dictorily with notions of self-conscious " Wille zur Macht " of which I have
ventured to strip them. The reader will also be puzzled, until he
remembers that Mr Berenson is essentially a connoisseur, a professional
272 NEW BOOKS.
expert rather than an engaging aesthete, by the deliberate neglect of so
important an item in aesthetics as mere " Beauty " : the book will seem,
even within the field purposely restricted by the author, narrow and even
crotchety. But it appears to me that no person with the habit of aesthetic
introspection can deny that Mr Berenson has at last applied to artistic
phenomena the only method which can lead us to differentiate and study
them as an important branch of psychic life. Similarly, I imagine that
no student of contemporary mental science can fail to be deeply impressed
by the coincidence between Mr Berenson's analogies and hypotheses and
the trend of physiological psychology. As regards myself, although I
cannot accept Mr Berenson's views as a sufficient explanation of the
pleasure derived from painting, I am desirous to place his little book
in the hands of psychologists, because it seems to show in the most con-
vincing and also the most suggestive manner that aesthetics ought to
become one of the most important fields for psychological observation,
analysis and speculation. How significant the empirical study of aes-
thetics can be Mr Berenson has already shown with an acumen and a
philosophical imagination which promise great achievements therein on
his own part.
VERNON LEE.
Thinking, Feeling, Doing. By E. W. SCRIPTURE, Ph.D., Director of the
Psychological Laboratory, Yale University. Meadville : Flood &
Vincent, 1895. Pp. xii., 304.
From the author of the research Ueber den assodativen Verlauf der
Varstellungen, and from an unwearied advocate of the "New Psychology,"
we had a right to expect a text-book of no inconsiderable freshness and
originality. There is but little doubt of the presence of both of these
qualities in overflowing measure in the work under review : but a
freshness amounting to coolness in the unacknowledged appropriation of
diagrams and text, together with an originality most in evidence in a
condescending jocularity of a nursery -book type, is hardly fitted to
commend the volume to any well-wisher of the science of Psychology.
The work bears the imprint of the Chautauqua Century Press, and is
written, the author informs us in the preface, " expressly for the people."
After acquainting himself with the character of the book the reviewer
feels constrained to say that its ready acceptance by those to whom
it is dedicated would indicate that "the people" stand more in need of the
services of a missionary than of a psychologist.
It is this very effort to write a popular treatise which is the bane
of the book. The effort is seen in the comparatively large amount of text
and cuts devoted to the reaction-times of athletic exercises at present of
small psychological value, in the disproportionate amount of space given
to colour-blindness, in the remarkable 'practical' suggestions (as in the
colour- top device for matching dress patterns), and even in appeals to popular
prejudice. Apropos of colour-blindness the author remarks : "Are we to
suppose that the many Englishmen are colour-blind who can see in the
Irish flag only a symbol of anarchy?" (p. 176). This, as the politicians
would say, seems to be an attempt to catch the Irish vote. As is to
be expected of a popular work, the book is profusely illustrated : there are
294 illustrations for 295 pages of text. To five of the cuts the author
gives prima, fade evidence of ownership for his electrotype likeness
appears therein but to some of the rest his title is not so clear.
Whether a given diagram or cut may be regarded as having passed into
the common stock or not is a matter of literary casuistry. It is also to be
NEW BOOKS. 273
said that in an elementary text-book one is not called upon to ac-
knowledge the source of each cut separately. But Dr Scripture has
drawn from many sources beside the common stock. He has fitted out
his book with diagrams and cuts from treatises, investigations, works and
catalogues, and nowhere not even in the preface does one find any
acknowledgment of his broad indebtedness.
A graver fault confronts us in the text. Dr Scripture has quoted
copiously from Creighton and Titchener's translation of Wundt's Menschen-
und Thierseele ; but has neglected to pay to the translators the tribute
of quotation marks. Twelve pages of the thirteen making up Chapter
XVII. are taken from this translation without other acknowledgment of
the source than the general statement that "Wundt is to be followed for
the rest of the chapter " ! And this is by no means the only case of
" borrowing."
As regards the plan of structure of the book, one finds that it amounts
to a series of chapters connected chiefly by the binding. Chapter III. is
on Reaction-time ; Chapter VI. on Power and Will ; Chapter XVI. on
Feeling ; Chapter XVIII. on Memory. The book can be read beginning
with the last chapter as easily as with the first. This amorphous
structure is, however, probably deliberate with the author ; for he
informs his readers that the "New Psychology confines itself strictly
to fact." This statement is to be reconciled with the fact that the latest
authoritative work on experimental psychology Kiilpe's "Outlines"
abounds in theory and hypothesis.
Thinking and Doing take up twenty of the twenty-two chapters
comprised in the book. Feelings come off with twelve pages, and
Emotions with thirteen twelve of these from the unacknowledged source
mentioned above.
Dr Scripture is especially severe upon what he calls the "arm-chair"
psychologist. "For several thousand years," he writes, "psychologists
have been waiting and watching : it has never occurred to them to labour
also. Sitting at home in the arm-chair is very pleasant ; but it is not the
way to do business, and consequently psychology has been going back-
ward." It is a pity that the misguided English philosophers, from Locke,
Hume, and Berkeley, down to the Mills, had not been checked in their
retroactive efforts by the olfactometer and the hypnotic button ; and it is
to be regretted that Dr Thomas Brown, who sometimes clung to his
arm-chair through the entire night in writing his lectures, had not been
kindly advised that it was " not the way to do business."
It is to be sincerely deplored that a psychologist of Dr Scripture's
ability has chosen to sacrifice his work to an attempt to come down to the
popular level, an attempt, in the reviewer's opinion, which has resulted in
excavations beneath the popular level. The book itself bears evidence
enough of the author's knowledge of experimental psychology and of his
fertility of resource in experimental methods. But despite this, it is to be
hoped that custom may never stale the variety of this particular form
of the " New Psychology," and that it may ever remain unique.
FRANK ANGELL.
The Child and Childhood in Folk-thought. (The child in primitive culture.)
By A. F. CHAMBERLAIN, M.A., Ph.D. New York : Macmillan & Co.,
1896. Pp. x., 464.
This work is a sort of lexicon of ' paidology.' It is a careful and laborious
compilation of all that refers to the child and childhood in popular thought.
There are thirty-three chapters, dealing with children's food, souls, flowers,
M. 18
274 NEW BOOKS.
animals, etc., the child as poet, linguist, actor, teacher, judge, oracle-
keeper, weather-maker, healer, hero, etc., etc. Each chapter is subdivided
into numerous sections. Thus that which treats of the child in the
primitive laboratory has paragraphs upon licking into shape, massage, face
games, primitive weighing, primitive measurements, measurements of
limbs and body, tests of physical efficiency, sleep, and heroic treatment.
Six chapters are lists of proverbs and familiar sayings about children and
childhood, collected, as the author candidly remarks, from pre-existing
dictionaries of quotations and proverbs. A very useful bibliography of
549 titles, and three elaborate indices close the volume.
The writer's thesis is that "the child is as important to the savage...
as to the civilised" man. " Everywhere through the world the activities of
childhood have been appealed to, and the race has wonderfully profited by
its wisdom, its naivete, its ingenuity and its touch of divinity." " Upon
language, religion, society and the arts the child has had a lasting influence,
both passive and active, unconscious, suggestive, creative. History, the
stage, music and song have been its debtors." And the thesis is supported
by a great mass of authoritative evidence. Mr Chamberlain's enthusiasm
has enabled him to weld his materials together into some sort of unity ;
and his occasionally emotional way of presenting his facts will bring him
readers, while it does not seriously affect his scientific attitude.
Not the least valuable thing about the book is its suggestiveness.
There is hardly a section that does not furnish a subject for detailed
investigation to the anthropological psychologist.
The Number Concept : its origin and development. By L. L. CONANT, Ph.D.
New York: Macmillan & Co., 1896. Pp. vii., 218.
This is a very complete study, by a mathematician, of the anthropology of
number. The faculty of counting is taken for granted. The author
believes, with Kiilpe, that "the primitive conception of number" is
" fundamental with human thought," and so does not attempt, as Preyer
has recently done, to derive it from something which is not numerical.
The only legitimate objects of inquiry are "the primitive methods of
counting and of giving visible expression to the idea of number."
Ch. I. discusses finger counting, and deduces certain peculiarities of the
finger scale from the facts of attitude, right-handedness, etc. Ch. II.
compares the limits of numerical systems in savage and civilised com-
munities. Chs. III. and IV. trace the origin of number words. We find
that " all above two, three 'or at least four are almost universally
of digital origin." A table is given of the various ways in which the
primitive mind conceives of number: thus "one" is "existence, piece,
group or beginning"; "eight" is "five- three, second three, two fours, or
two from ten," etc. Ch. V. a very interesting chapter to the psychologist
deals with other than the natural (finger, i.e. 5, 10 and 20) number bases.
Binary and quaternary systems are not rare; ternary bases are less
frequent; while "there is probably no recorded instance of a number
system formed on 6, 7, 8, or 9 as a base." Traces of enumeration by such
systems are discoverable in systems otherwise formed, but the author
proves that they call for special and local explanation. The duodecimal
scale is " the scale of civilisation," but will never supplant the decimal in
ordinary use. The two concluding chapters take up the quinary and
vigesimal systems in 'detail.
Professor Conant has been admirably careful in his use of authorities,
and the judgments which he passes upon evidence are impartial and
well-balanced. His book is the most comprehensive treatment of its
NEW BOOKS. 275
subject extant : between two and three hundred number scales are
transcribed and analysed. It may be cordially recommended.
Movement. By E. J. MAREY. Translated by E. PRITCHARD. (International
Scientific Series, vol. Ixxiii.) New York: D. Appleton & Co., 1895.
Pp. xv., 323.
Psychologists, no less than physiologists, must welcome the appearance of
Professor Marey's Le mouvement in an English dress. Many of the methods
which it describes have been, and others will be, of service to experimental
psychology. To mention one only, it is surprising that xise has not been
made of the zootrope, for the investigation of associative and apperceptive
completion of impressions, to a far greater extent than has actually been
the case.
Mr Pritchard has given us an accurate and readable translation. But
he has made some regrettable departures from the original, cutting out a
round dozen plates (among them, the two phototypes with which the
French volume ends) and the author's index to illustrations. The number-
ing of the early plates has been quite needlessly altered. There may be
reasons for certain of these changes, though none is alleged in the preface.
But the bad printing of the plates in general is inexcusable. In the
writer's copy, Fig. 17 is no figure at all; and some fifteen others would be
unintelligible, were their French impressions not familiar.
The Psychology of Number, and its applications to methods of teaching
arithmetic. By J. A. McLELLAN and J. DEWEY. (International
Education Series, vol. xxxiii.) New York : D. Appleton & Co., 1895.
Pp. xv., 309.
This little book falls into two distinct parts, as its title indicates. The
second and practical part is, so far as the lay mind can judge, exceedingly
good. What is more, its polemical tone seems to argue that it is needed
at the present juncture as a corrective to vicious school practice. The first
part discusses the psychical nature, origin, definition, etc., of number by
the method, and even in the terms, of the Hegelian dialectic. It will
hardly recommend itself either to the psychologist or the mathematician
as an adequate account of the number idea and the number judgment.
The Beginnings of Writing. By W. J. HOFFMAN, M.D. (Anthropological
Series, No. 3.) New York: D. Appleton & Co., 1895. Pp. vii., 209.
There is very little psychology in this volume, which should have borne a
more specific title. It is a popular account, profusely illustrated, of the
forms and underlying principles of American picture-writing. Only now
and again (e.g. in the chapter on Symbols) does the psychological problem
come to the front with any explicitness.
At the same time the writer keeps well within the limits of established
fact, and the psychological reader will find, between the lines, a good deal
to interest him.
Philosophy of Theism: being the Gifford Lectures delivered before the
University of Edinburgh in 1894-95. First Series. By ALEXANDER
CAMPBELL FRASER, LL.D., Hon. D.C.L. Oxford, Emeritus Professor
of Logic and Metaphysics in the University of Edinburgh. Edinburgh
and London : William Blackwood & Sons, 1895. Pp. 297.
Professor Eraser's final chapter has for title "What is God?" This is the
problem of his book. He considers in succession the solutions offered by
Panmaterialism, Panegoism, and Pantheism, and concludes that none of
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276 NEW BOOKS.
these can afford a satisfactory ultimate conception. If the question were
purely theoretical, Agnosticism might be a tenable position. But Agnos-
ticism would logically lead to universal nescience, and " the mental state
in which one doubts about everything is a state in which man cannot live"
(p. 278). We need a practical answer to the question, What is God ? From
this point of view " the deepest and truest thought man can have about
the outside world, is that in which the natural universe is conceived as the
immediate manifestation of the divine or infinite Person, in moral relation
to imperfect persons, who, in and through their experience of what is, are
undergoing intellectual and spiritual education in really divine surround-
ings" (p. 280).
The Worship of the Romans, viewed in relation to the Roman temperament.
By FRANK GRANGER, D.Lit., Professor in University College, Notting-
ham. London : Methuen & Co., 1895. Pp. ix., 308.
A well-written and useful account of the magical and religious customs
and beliefs of the Romans. In the writer's view magic is more primitive
than religion. The titles of the chapters are : " The Roman Spirit,"
"Dreams and Apparitions," "The Soul and its Companions," "The World
Around," "Nature Worship," "Primitive Thought," "Roman Magic,"
"Divination and Prophecy," "The Primitive Idea of Holiness," "Holy
Places and Idolatry," "The Divine Victim," "The Sacred Drama." The
writer approaches his subject with the insight derived from a thorough
knowledge of recent work on folk-lore.
Studies in the Evolutionary Psychology of Feeling. By HIRAM M. STANLEY.
London : Swan Sonnenschein & Co. New York : Macmillan & Co.,
1895. Pp. vi, 390.
This work is characterised by vigour and originality. The writer regards
Feeling as the primary fact of psychical life both in the race and in the
individual. Not only Cognition in general, but every cognitive state, is
generated by a prior pain or pleasure. Most of the book is devoted to an
analysis of the special emotions and of their development. Whatever may
be thought of the writer's general theory, there is much in this part of the
work which is distinctly valuable. (Fuller notice follows.)
Criminal Sociology. By ENRICO FERRI. London : T. Fisher Unwin, 1895.
Pp. 284.
This is the second volume of the Criminology Series edited by Mr Morrison.
In the preface to the present volume he calls attention to the fact that the
problem of crime is again pressing its way to the front and demanding
re-examination at the hands of the present generation. As evidence of the
dissatisfaction which exists with regard to penal institutions in their
present form, Mr Morrison calls attention to the large number of govern-
ment inquiries which have recently been held respecting them. The
result of these inquiries has been to sustain Professor Ferri's opinion
that the criminal problem will not be solved by a resort to measures of
a merely punitive and repressive character. Crime is a product of adverse
individual and social conditions, and it can only be successfully dealt with
by ameliorating those adverse conditions where it is possible to ameliorate.
In cases where these conditions are not susceptible of amelioration, the
only other effective alternative is to exclude the offender from ordinary
social existence. It is unnecessary for us to review this book at greater
length inasmuch as the original Italian edition has already been noticed in
the pages of Mind. The English edition will be a boon to those who do
NEW BOOKS. 277
not read Italian. It is an admirable introduction to the problems of
Criminology.
Le Sodalisme au XVIII* si&cle. Etude sur les idees socialistes dans
lea e"crivains franfais du XVIII' siecle, avant la Revolution. Par
ANDR LICHTENBERGER, docteur es lettres. Paris: Felix Alcan, 1895.
Pp. 471.
This volume is an interesting and comprehensive examination of the
Socialist ideas current in French literature in that portion of the eighteenth
century which preceded the great Revolution. In the execution of his task
M. Lichtenberger, whose name reveals his origin, has exhibited a pleasing
combination of German exhaustiveness and French lucidity.
He has ransacked the literature of the period with admirable patience
and industry, and must be complimented on the singular spirit of imparti-
ality with which he sets forth the economic ideas of the writers whose
works he has undertaken to analyse.
In recent years Socialism has become an exceedingly vague term. In
the mouths of many men it is merely another word for philanthropy, and
even amongst those who use it in a more scientific sense there are con-
siderable differences of opinion as to its interpretation. In order to make
matters perfectly clear on this head M. Lichtenberger begins by telling his
readers what he means by Socialism. With him it is not a body of doctrine
which covers the whole field of collective life and effort. He regards it
solely in its economic aspect as a theory which has for its object the
collective ownership of property. The question therefore which he has
set himself to answer is this : In what manner was the collective owner-
ship of property held, and to what extent did this conception of the owner-
ship of property permeate the public mind in the ninety years anterior to
the Revolution ? In order to answer this question satisfactorily we are
presented with a careful examination and analysis of the literature which
bears upon it. This involves an exposition of the ideas of writers such as
Meslier, Montesquieu, D'Argenson, Morelly, Rousseau and his disciples :
the Encyclopedists and the physiocrats. Socialist ideas in a more or less
definite form were not confined to writers on philosophy and economics.
They had a wider audience and were popularised in romances, poems, and
plays. Accordingly M. Lichtenberger discusses and interprets the nature
of the relations which existed between socialism and literature. M. Lichten-
berger's examination of the Socialist utterances of the eighteenth century
leads him to the conclusion that Socialist principles were not as a rule
enunciated with the object of revolutionising the economic basis of society.
These principles were formulated and appealed to in order to procure what
would now be considered very moderate reforms. The writings of Brisson
de Warville and of the notorious Marat contain interesting examples of this
method.
The excessive severity of the criminal law was a subject which aroused
the keenest indignation in the pre-revolutionary period. Punishments
were inflicted on offenders altogether out of proportion to the gravity of
the offence or the necessities of social security. Capital punishment was
the penalty for petty theft and most other offences were punished with
similar harshness. In order to obtain a mitigation of the punishment
of offenders against property both Brisson and Marat bring forward
arguments fatal to the existence of private property altogether. But these
arguments were adduced merely to secure a more humane penal code and
not for the purpose of effecting fundamental changes in the economic
constitution of society. Of course there were writers who went further,
but in all cases their ideas were of a speculative character.
278 NEW BOOKS.
In order to translate these ideas into practice economic conditions were
required which did not exist in the eighteenth century. Socialism as a
plan for the economic organisation of collective life has only assumed a
practical shape since the rise of great industrial and commercial enterprises.
It is the coming into existence of these great undertakings which has pro-
duced latter day socialism. But it was the men of the eighteenth century
who pointed out the way for existing socialist parties by ventilating the
idea that civil equality is impossible without economic equality. To all who
are interested in the evolution of political ideas and doctrines M. Lichten-
berger has produced a volume for which they will be grateful.
La Superstition Sodaliste. Par le BARON R. GAROFALO. Paris : Felix
Alcan, 1895. Pp. 299.
It imist be said that M. Garofalo has written a lively, vigorous and comba-
tive book, and a book exhibiting a considerable amount of controversial
ability ; but the effect of his polemic is to some extent destroyed by the need-
less alarm with which he contemplates the Socialist movement. He tells us
that his book is directed against revolutionary Socialism, but revolutionary
Socialism, or for that matter Socialism of any serious kind, is not a theory of
the State which need discompose the equanimity of sensible men. Garofalo's
fear of socialism arises largely from his detestation of the mob. Of all Latin
sayings the one he loves best is "Odi profanum vulgus," "I detest the
mob," he says, " in every shape and form. The applause of the ignorant
does not give me the slightest satisfaction ; their hootings are equally a
matter of indifference. That is, perhaps, one of the reasons why I have
never become a candidate for public offices, not even for the position of a
Municipal Councillor. Instinct may play a part in this sentiment of
repugnance, but reason justifies it too. I am persuaded that everything
which proceeds from the mob is always bad. It can destroy, but it is
incapable of constructing. I believe that no one can do a more detestable
thing than to disseminate among the poorer classes the idea that they have
been dispossessed and that they have a right to take their revenge. I
clearly perceive that the ill will excited among one section of the popula-
tion against the other can produce no other result than a cooling down of
the sentiment of cordiality and solidarity which constitute the foundations
of human Society."
Garofalo is evidently afraid lest the mob should become the instrument
of agitators bent on the destruction of private property as a social institu-
tion. There is really little cause for alarm on this score. Of all sections
of the community the masses are the most conservative. No doubt the
masses have at times participated in revolutionary episodes. But these
episodes must not be accepted as an expression of the settled and habitual
temper of the popular mind. On the contrary they are very exceptional
incidents. It is quite a mistake to infer from these exceptional outbursts
that the masses are always in a mood for violent and fundamental social
transformations. As a matter of fact the habitual temper of the masses is
to hold on with an unreasoning tenacity to the habits, customs, traditions,
prejudices and institutions of the past. The lower down we go in the scale
of civilization the greater is social immobility.
This is a truth which we should be justified in describing as a Socio-
logical law. This law is applicable to the various grades of Society, and it
may be said with a near approach to accuracy that the lower down we
descend in the social scale the greater is the aversion to change. The
advent of the democracy to supreme power so far from producing revolu-
tion is much more likely to produce stagnation. It is, in fact, probable
NEW BOOKS. 279
that those countries which are most completely under the dominance of
the masses may eventually lose their place in the international struggle for
existence owing to the extreme unwillingness of the electorate to adjust
their laws and institutions to the new conditions which are always de-
veloping in the family of nations.
De la Contingence des Lois de la Nature. Par EMILE BOUTROUX, Professeur
a la Facultd des Lettres de Paris. Paris: Felix Alcan, 1895. Pp.170.
This essay is a reprint of the thesis presented by the author for the doctor's
degree at the Sorbbnne in 1874. Its main object is to demonstrate the exist-
ence of a radical contingency in nature in order to make room for free will.
Indeed so strongly does M. Boutroux insist on contingency that at times he
is led into a position dangerously like Hume's. Thus he asserts that
causality, i.e. an invariable connexion between events, is only contingent
and not necessary.
The author begins with a discussion of necessity, and finds that Logic
and Mathematics give us the perfect type of it. But this is just because
they are abstract sciences and do not deal with reality in the concrete.
The laws of Logic have little to do with the inner nature of things. If we
turn, on the other hand, to the actual world, we find contingency every-
where. Being actually given is not a necessary consequent from the possible.
Its existence is contingent. Again, reasoning a posteriori and a priori
proves a radical contingency in the natural production of genera and species
such as we find Biology dealing with. There are no " kinds," the denota-
tion and connotation of which are exactly determinate and unchangeable.
In a similar way M. Boutroux proceeds to point out how, as we ascend the
scale of being, new elements are constantly met with which cannot be
logically deduced from what we may have previously found existing. Thus
life cannot be explained on mechanical principles, and consciousness cannot
be deduced from physical and physiological laws.
Having thus cleared the ground, M. Boutroux is in a position to intro-
duce free will. His conclusion is that each being, animate or inanimate, is
gifted with a spontaneity to realise the ideal of which it is capable. That
ideal is to become as like God, the First and Final Cause of all things, as
the nature of the creature permits of it. It is given to man to approximate
to this perfection in a greater degree than the other animals, and so he is
gifted with a greater freedom. " L'homme est 1'auteur de son caractere et
de sa destinee" (p. 145). This constant striving after an ideal is the essence
of things. The laws of nature are the artificial and fixed image of what is
living and changeable in its very essence. Their apparent necessity is
explained by the stability inherent in the ideal itself. So necessity becomes
the mean term between the world and God. The essay as a whole is
brightly written.
W. F. TROTTER.
Histoire de la Philosopltie Atomistique, Par LEOPOLD MABILLEAU. Paris:
Felix Alcan, 1895. Pp. vii., 560.
M. Mabilleau's task is a twofold one. He attempts, in the first place, to
write the history of Atomism, and, in the second, to form an estimate of
its value as a scientific and metaphysical hypothesis. His opinion on the
second question is that of a decided adherent of the Atomist school.
Atomism is for him at once the most satisfactory of scientific working
hypotheses, and the metaphysical doctrine which lends itself most easily
to the support of a theistic and spiritualistic conception of the universe.
" The corpuscular philosophy," he says, quoting Voltaire, " is the shortest
280 NEW BOOKS.
path to the discovery of the soul and of God." From the historical point
of view M. Mabilleau's undertaking is perhaps more ambitious than
fortunate. He begins his review of the various atomistic systems of
antiquity with a survey of " Atomism among the Hindus," devoted mainly
to an account of the system of Kanada which he assigns, in spite of the
suspicious analogies with Aristotelian technical terminology, to a period
"several centuries" earlier than the era of Leucippus and Democritus.
The account of Kanada is followed by a sketch of Greek atomism, which
M. Mabilleau, in opposition to the established views on the subject, regards
as having been largely influenced, to say the least, by Hindu speculation.
Unfortunately for M. Mabilleau the force of his argument is greatly
weakened, if not altogether destroyed, by his readiness to rely on the
worthless statements of Neo- Pythagorean authors of the type of lamblichus,
whose judgment, not to say their veracity, is hardly above suspicion. A
chapter on "Atomism among the Arabs" serves as the connecting link
between Greek and modern speculation on the subject. We are then
conducted through the theories of the alchemists and the "theological"
atomism of the eighteenth century, to the "scientific" atomism of the
present day. (Fuller notice follows.)
A. E. T.
Le Rdalisme M&aphysique. Par EMILE THOUVEREZ, Professeur agrege de
philosophie, Docteur es lettres. Paris : Felix Alcan, 1894. Pp. 282.
M. Thouverez holds with Hegel that the rational is the real. The cate-
gories of human knowledge are, according to him, not merely subjective
forms ; they constitute the nature of the real, and have their source in the
nature of the absolute creative activity. This doctrine is what M.
Thouverez means by metaphysical realism. Perhaps the chief interest of
his book lies in the view which he takes of the interconnexion of the
categories. He arranges them in an ascending series, according as they
express more and more profoundly the nature of reality. Each higher
category presupposes the lower as its necessary condition : but at the same
time contains something essentially new. The lower is related to the
higher as matter to form, in the Aristotelian use of these terms. The
coincidence with Aristotelian doctrine is emphasised by the teleological
language used: the lower categories are constantly spoken of as existing
for the sake of the higher. The principles of Identity and Sufficient
Reason, Deduction, Induction, Analogy, Faith, Number, Space, Time,
Substance, Cause, End, Duty, and God, form the main topics discussed.
There is much that is suggestive and helpful in the detailed treatment of
these conceptions.
Der Kampf urn einen geistigen Lebensinhalt. Neue Grundlegung einer Welt-
anschauung. Von RUDOLF EUCKEN, Professor in Jena. London:
Williams & Norgate, 1895. Pp. 400.
This work, the author tells us in his preface, is intended to be an uncom-
promising polemic against the Naturalism of the present age, the object
being to establish from a new point of view the reality of an order of Being
independent of, and superior to, the Universe of sense-perception.
Professor Eucken complains that the idea of a mode of existence not
amenable to sense-consciousness has become almost an obsolete tradition.
To rehabilitate this geistigen Sitbstanz, as he terms it, in the realm of
contemporary culture, is the design of the present Essay. The entire work
is divided into two main divisions, the first designated the Ascent, or Auf-
steigender Teil; the second the Descent, or Absteigender Teil.
NEW BOOKS. 281
It is not very easy to make clear to an English reader the exact position
assumed by Professor Eucken, but perhaps he may be best described as a
Metaphysical Anarchist. He will not be bound by the speculations of
philosophy, nor the dogmas of science. He neither believes in a noumenal
nor a phenomenal Universe. He trusts neither the averments of sense nor
the categories of the understanding. But even an Anarchist must take his
stand somewhere, so on page 6 we find the learned Professor condescending
to an axiom which is sufficiently comprehensive, if not very intelligible to
any but Hegelian students. As far as we can make out, however, from
this initial pronouncement it would seem that the one real substance of the
Universe is a spiritual entity, the soul of the age, embodying eternal truth,
and constituting a timeless reality. This spiritual substance, this increasing
purpose that through all ages runs, we are familiar with as the Zeitgeist
of the poets, and it might be construed without much violence into the
goal of evolution, the immovable outcome of the cosmic process. On page
16, Professor Eucken tells us that the main contention, the Hauptproblem
of the present treatise, is to establish the activity, spontaneity and eternally
expanding development of the individual soul. These are the character-
istics of the only reality that can be grasped by the human intellect.
Autonomy is the criterion of reality. The Idealist Metaphysic has here
certainly an advantage over the Materialist inasmuch as the former rests
on the positive conception of reality, while the latter is content with a mere
negative abstraction termed the unknowable. Professor Eucken seizes
upon this dialectic weakness in the scientists' theory of Being. There is no
Autonomy in Nature, therefore there is no reality in Nature. Just so,
admit the scientists, but then we seek our reality in a realm transcending
Nature. But, replies the Idealist, our conception of Nature is that of a
spiritual process, the very principle of which is that self-initiating Auto-
nomy which is not to be found in the phenomenal Universe. At page 31,
Professor Eucken contrasts the substance of spiritual life with that of
physical life. Spiritual Being is a series of consciously self-initiated im-
pulses, whereas the life of the Materialist is the evolution of a surd fatalist
potentiality enchaining the succession of phenomena in a rigid order of
development. In spiritual life there is no potentiality, no necessary se-
quence ; the child is not the father of the man, as the oak is in the acorn.
The considerations opened up by the conception of a spiritual as opposed
to a physical mode of existence have, as Professor Eucken shows, something
more than an academic interest. The question of the possibility of moral
amelioration in a human being is every day discussed amongst philanthrop-
ists, and reduced to practical experiment by enthusiastic reformers. With
the spiritualists the life of the individual is undergoing perpetual renova-
tion (p. 32), so that there is always a possibility of making a fresh start.
At page 213, Professor Eucken marshals the empirical evidence, in support
of the reality of a power in Nature, transcending and dominating Nature ;
such a power is a spiritual energy quite apart from any mechanical or
physical force. The triumphs of Art in the subjugation of nature are
proofs that the human intellect is informed by a faculty, able to enslave
and control the brute properties of matter ; and while these properties are
constant in the mode and extent of their operations the power of human
knowledge is perpetually increasing and modifying our conceptions of
natural processes. Again, the records of history attest the reality of a
hyperphysical mode of being. There is a universe of ideas determining the
course of human affairs, from generation to generation, issuing in the
progress of culture and the evolution of social types. A struggle for exis-
tence is perpetually being waged between the immanent forces of nature
and the plastic powers of the geistigen Lebensinha.lt. It is true that in this
282 NEW BOOKS.
conflict the spiritual side is not always triumphant, and it is to a con-
sideration of this aspect of existence that Professor Eucken addresses him-
self on page 245. Space is then devoted to a criticism of the Optimistic
and Pessimistic views of this great problem, the mixed character of human
life. Professor Eucken is not inclined to accept any of the current solu-
tions of the enigma, but counsels philosophers to look for a higher synthesis
(p. 267).
The very fact of the ever present Kampf in the realm of nature Pro-
fessor Eucken takes to be a warrant for the reality of a spiritual mode of
existence where intellectual and moral antinomies will alike be reconciled.
The second part of the work is an application of the theory of Being,
propounded in the first part, to the practical requirements of human exis-
tence such as Religion, Ethic, Art, Philosophy. There is much elevating
and stimulating suggestion in Professor Eucken's Essay, but his mode of
exposition is somewhat too comminuted and prolix.
T. W. LEVIN.
Die Spiele der Thiere. By KARL GROOS. Jena : G. Fischer, 1896.
Pp. xvi., 359.
In this book the author seeks to prove that the play of animals is due to
an instinct developed by natural selection, and useful in practising those
movements which are of service in the struggle for existence. Herbert
Spencer's view that play depends on superfluity of energy is regarded as
insufficient ; superfluous energy being a favourable but not an essential
condition. Imitation, which Spencer gave as a secondary cause of play, is
shown in many instances to be out of the question, and is regarded by the
author as due to an instinct allied to the play instinct. A full and inter-
esting history is given of the opinions which have been held on the nature
of instinct, and the author concludes by agreeing with Ziegler, whose theory
resembles that of Spencer in regarding instinct as complex reflex action
depending on inherited nervous arrangements, without however accepting
with Spencer the inheritance of acquired characteristics. The various
forms which the play of animals, and especially of young animals, may
take, are very fully described, with an abundance of illustrative examples
drawn to a large extent from the work of those who have observed animals
in a wild condition. The first and simplest kind of play is called " experi-
menting " and includes all those movements by which the young animal
obtains command over its own movements and over external objects ;
other kinds of play include hunting, fighting, building, nursing, etc., while
the performances of courtship are treated in a separate chapter, dis-
tinguished as they are from the other forms, in that they have a direct
purpose.
Much space is devoted to the psychological aspect of play. The play
of young animals is held to be purely instinctive, the only psychical
accompaniment being the pleasure attending the satisfaction of an
instinct. In the higher animals the author believes that there is often
consciousness of sham-occupation, giving in support of this view instances
of dissimulation in animals. In the various grades of the consciousness
he sees divided states of mind analogous to those occurring in the hypnotic
and allied conditions. When considering curiosity in animals the author
advances the view that the primitive form of attention is not concentra-
tion on an impression actually present, but the expectation of a future
impression associated with preparation for the instinctive movements
which the expected impression will call forth ; a watching cat is given
as a typical example. (Does not an expected impression imply a conscious-
NEW BOOKS. 283
ness of the nature of the impression which in its turn involves previous
attentive perception?)
In his preface the author complains that most of those who have
written on animal psychology have too much sought out human
characteristics. His own aim has been rather to study those features
which are especially characteristic of the animal, and his work shows a
marked freedom from the anthropomorphism which vitiates so much
work on the animal mind. A second book is promised which will deal
with the subject of human play.
Die Umwalzung der Wahrnehmungshypothesen durch die mechanische
Methode. Nebst einem Beitrag iiber die Grenzen der physiologischen
Psychologic. Von Dr HERMANN SCHWARZ. Leipzig: Duncker &
Humblot, 1895. Pp. xx., 195 (Erster Teil : das Problem des unmittel-
baren Erkennens), 213 (Zweiter Teil : das Problem des Sinnesquali-
taten, & Anhang}.
Dr Schwarz has set himself the task of combating the prevailing tendency
to regard the secondary qualities as subjective affection objectified. In an
earlier work he directly attacked this current fallacy, as he rightly deems it.
In the present volume he resumes the same topic from an historical point
of view and gives a most interesting account of the phases through which
the problem of sense-perception passed in the transition from scholasticism
to the modern mechanical view of the material world. Suarez, Thomas
Aquinas, and Gabriel Biels are selected as typical representatives of the
scholastic point of view. Dr Schwarz, while exhibiting clearly the difficul-
ties of the doctrine of " species" mediating between the object and the mind,
points out that the schoolmen were in the main free from a confusion
which has had a disastrous influence on more modern theories. They did
not interpose between the object and the mind a second vicarious object, as
those do who hold that we know in the first instance only our own
subjective states. Suarez, for instance, insists that we perceive "non
speciem sed per speciem." Descartes and Hobbes are taken as repre-
sentative of the revolution in the theory of sense-perception which the
mechanical view of nature produced. The influence of the old doctrine of
species on Descartes is well brought out. In some points however we
question the writer's interpretation of the Cartesian position. It is clear
to us that Descartes held the secondary qualities to be in their own nature
purely modes of consciousness. When we conceive them distinctly we can
according to him conceive them only in this way, and not as being in any
manner or degree modes of extension. Dr Schwarz says that for
Descartes they were qualities of the complex formed by the union of soul
and body.
The appendix on the limits of Physiological Psychology contends that
the distinctions possible from a physiological point of view cannot keep
pace with the number and subtlety of the different modalities of conscious-
ness. The argument appears to us quite unconvincing.
Le Dottrine Filosofico-Religiose di Tommaso Campanella. By Dr Gio.
SANTE FELICI. Lanciano ; 1895, (London : Williams and Norgate).
Pp. xxxii., 285.
Campanella comes last in the brilliant series of Italian Renaissance
philosophers begun by Marsilio Ficino and continued by Pomponazzi,
Telesio, and Giordano Bruno, who attempted, but with less success, to do
for ancient thought what the Italian Humanists did for classic literature,
and the Italian artists for the classic ideals of visible beauty. They form
284 NEW BOOKS.
not so much a progressive line as a curve returning on itself. Dr Felici,
without exactly intending it, shows us his hero in complete reaction
towards the Aristotelian and medieval point of view from which Ficino
had broken away. This was due partly to the spontaneous movement of
speculation, partly to the circumstances of an unhappy life (1568 1639).
A born Neapolitan like most Italian philosophers, Campanella entered the
Dominican order in his youth, was accused of conspiring against the
Spanish government and thrown into prison, where he spent the twenty-
seven best years of his life, in the course of which he underwent the torture
seven times. It was in these untoward circumstances that most of his
works were written, with the fear of the Inquisition no less than of the
foreign tyrants before his eyes. A natural vein of religious mysticism not
unmingled with charlatanism was intensified by long seclusion from the
world, by bodily suffering, by hope deferred. To conciliate his judges and
to procure the intercession of the Pope he made concessions to authority
which ended by being half-sincere. When at last set free and provided
with an asylum in France the bent of his mind was irrevocably determined
in a direction widely diverging from that of modern civilisation.
The philosophy of the Italian Renaissance never transcended the
limitations or added to the categories of Greek thought ; but those limits
included the whole field of naturalism, and those categories were so
numerous that an appearance of originality might be produced by shuffling
them into new combinations. When the Florentine Academy had tempo-
rarily broken the yoke of Aristotle not only Plato but the earlier and later
physical systems began to be studied afresh and were powerfully aided by
the Copernican astronomy. In time Aristotle reasserted his authority, but
he was now read with other eyes and found to be on one side of his activity
the father of systematised observation, and of inductive science. On the
other side as a metaphysician he was a chief factor in Neo-Platonism, the
religious mysticism of which blended easily with the great spiritual move-
ment provoked by the Reformation.
All these elements met and mingled in Campanella, but with an
increasing preponderance of those which made for theological interests.
In him, as Dr Felici well observes, is repeated the general movement of
Italian Renaissance thought. First he is attracted by the study of nature,
then by the study of Mind. Psychology replaces physics (p. 45). As
might fee expected, Aristotle, whom he had so passionately assailed, now
becomes his guide. He adopts the famous distinction between soul and
reason or nous, using the latter as an organ for the apprehension of religious
truth. Religion is in fact the tendency of the mind to expand itself to
infinity (p. 138). Think away all the limitations of Mind and you arrive
at an infinite substance which is God. As the universal principle this
substance is Power ; as conscious of itself it is Wisdom ; as self -delighted
it is Love. Here we have the celebrated " Primalities" of Campanella
and with them we find ourselves back in medievalism. Creation is not so
much out of nothing as a combination of the supreme principle with
nothing a subjection of the Infinite to a series of restrictions and
negations constituting a descending chain of partial existences from the
throne of God to the verge of nonentity. What chiefly differentiates
Campanella from the Neo-Platonists seems to be his substitution of the
Infinite for the One, a process due, I think, to the revived Epicureanism of
the Renaissance, such as we can study best in Giordano Bruno. Whether
he was really more orthodox than his martyred predecessor may be doubted.
Dr Felici institutes an elaborate and instructive comparison between the
two Dominicans going to prove that Bruno valued the popular religion as
very useful for the morals of the uneducated classes although untrue in
NEW BOOKS. 285
itself, while Campanella interpreted its dogmas as a historical manifestation
of metaphysical truth, and therefore themselves a part of the great cosmic
process, the self-evolution of the Infinite in nature and man (pp. 210-216).
According to his critic Campanella " pantheizes," but is not simply
pantheistic, believing as he does in a deity which though immanent in
nature also transcends it. Whether this deity is or is not personal seems
left undetermined. In no case is his religion supernatural in the sense of
being miraculously revealed, and his exclusion of every specifically Christian
dogma is complete. "What need of a 'new creature' if human nature
tends by virtue of an inborn and necessary inclination towards the highest
good?" (p. 145). Campanella in his Atheismus Triumphatus declares that
"the chief merit of Jesus Christ consisted in preaching the simplest form
of natural religion to men and aiding them to conform to it. His death
had no higher value than that of a luminous example 'moriendi pro
ratione'" (p. 221). But natural religion is as we have seen merely the
tendency of the mind to expand itself to infinity, which again is the
supreme form of that self-preservation which our philosopher borrows from
Stoicism as the definition of virtue (p. 134).
Like the Stoics also a derivation which Dr Felici does not notice
Campanella looked forward to the eventual union of all mankind in one
fold under one shepherd ; but, strange as it may seem, his fold was the
Roman Catholic Church and his shepherd was the Pope. Like the ancient
thinkers he regarded history as a series of recurring cycles, and Dr Felici
has shown that to credit him with anticipating the modern idea of
perpetual progress is a mistake (p. 170). But the sweep of the cycles was
to go on expanding until the whole globe was reduced under the sway of
a single theocratic despotism. The great discoveries and inventions of
modern times had no other value or meaning in his eyes than as steps
towards this consummation, which remained his ideal through life, the only
change being that in his youth he looked on Spain, and in his later years
on France, as the predestined instrument for its accomplishment. His
illusions about the desirability and feasibility of establishing papal
supremacy over the secular monarchies are worthy of the thirteenth
century, and remain totally unaffected by the Reformation. Protestantism
he would have suppressed by any means however violent or fraudulent,
and we are told that his unscrupulousness in this respect leaves Machiavelli
far behind (p. 238).
Thus the last thinker of the Italian Renaissance exhibits with extra-
ordinary clearness the pervading note of Italian thought, the dream of
universal empire, that legacy from old Rome which has been the inspiration
of so many great Italians, from Dante to Vico, from Rienzi to Buonaparte,
from Gregory VII. to Leo XIII.
ALFRED W. BENN.
RECEIVED also :
Leslie Stephen, Social Rights and Duties, London, Swan Sonnenschein &
Co., 1896, two volumes, pp. 255 and 267.
J. Morris, A New Natural Theology, London, Rivington, Percival & Co.,
1896, pp. 347.
H. Baynes, The Idea of God and the Moral Sense, London, Williams &
Norgate, 1895, two volumes, pp. xiii., 80, and 104.
A. K. Fiske, The Jewish Scriptures, New York, Charles Scribner's Sons,
1896, pp. xiv., 390.
286 NEW BOOKS.
J. Welton, A Manual of Logic, vol. II., (The University Tutorial Series),
London, W. B. Clive, 1896, pp. xiii., 292.
S. N. Patten, The Theory of Social Forces, Philadelphia, American
Academy of Political and Social Science, 1895, pp. 151.
A. Mosso, Fear, translated from the fifth edition of the Italian by
E. Lough and F. Kiesow, London, New York, and Bombay,
Longmans, Green & Co., 1896, pp. 278.
F. Queyrat, Les caracteres et V education morale, Paris, Felix Alcan, 1896,
pp. viii., 168.
G. L.-Fonsegrive, Essai sur le libre arbitre, Paris, Felix Alcan, 1896,
pp. 581.
J. Halleux, Les Principes du Positivisme contemporain, Paris, Felix Alcan,
1896, pp. 347.
J. Lachelier, Du fondement de Vinduction, Deuxieme edition, Paris, Felix
Alcan, 1896, pp. 173.
H. Michel, L'Ide'e de I'Etat, Deuxieme edition, Paris, Felix Alcan, 1896,
pp. ix., 653.
J.-L. de Lanessan, La Morale des Philosophes Chinois, Paris, Felix Alcan,
1896, pp. 124.
W. Wundt, Orundriss der Psychologic, Leipzig, Wilhelm Engelmann, 1896,
London, Williams & Norgate, pp. xvi., 384.
G. Weill, L'ficole Saint- Simonienne, Paris, Felix Alcan, 1896, pp. 308.
H. J. Holtzmann, Lehrbuch der neutestamentlichen Theologie, erste Lie-
ferung, Freiburg I. B. und Leipzig, J. C. B. Mohr, 1896, London,
Williams & Norgate, pp. 48.
E. Koch, Die Psychologic in der Religionswissenschaft, Freiburg I. B. und
Leipzig, J. C. B. Mohr, 1896, London, Williams & Norgate, pp. 146.
Q. Newman, Notas sueltas sobre la Pena de Muerte, qon un Apendize de
F. H. Bradley, Santiago de Chile, Imprenta i Enquadernazion
Barzelona, 1896, pp. xii., 228.
VIII PHILOSOPHICAL PERIODICALS.
BRAIN. Parts LXX., LXXI. and LXXII. 1895. Sir William Broadbent.
' Brain Origin.' [Speculations on the nature of nervous processes.] A. D.
Waller. ' Points relating to the Weber- Fechner law. Retina ; Muscle ;
Nerve.' [Relation between intensity of light thrown into frog's eye and
amount of negative variation of current between optic nerve and cornea ;
between strength of induction shock from condenser and lift of muscle ;
between strength of tetanising current applied to nerve and amount of
negative variation of nerve. Logarithmic relation in first and second
cases, direct proportionality in the case of nerve.] A. E. Wright. ' On the
nature of the physiological element in emotion.' [Speculations on " neural
tension " as chief element in emotion ; analogy of segment of nervous
system with water cistern ; overflowing into viscera.] Discussion on
' Imperative ideas,' by Dr Hughlings Jackson, G. H. Savage, C. Mercier and J.
Milne Bramwell. L. Bianchi. ' The functions of the Frontal Lobes.' [Ex-
periments showing psychical defect after extirpation of frontal lobes in
monkeys and dogs. Affections of trunk movements not constant and
when present transitory.]
PHILOSOPHICAL REVIEW. Vol. v. No. 1. A. Hodder. ' Truth and the
Tests of Truth.' [No warrant for the ascription of truth to our beliefs is
given by induction, deduction, intuition, memory or inference. Truth is a
certain sort of stability or predominance. As ' aids to reflection ' in the
Sursuit of truth the collective intelligence has thrown off five logical
evices.] E. Albee. ' The Relation of Shaftesbury and Hutcheson to
Utilitarianism.' [Hutcheson's relation is much the nearer. Both
systems carefully appreciated by the writer suffer by comparison with
a type of ethical theory under which they do not properly fall.]
T. W. Taylor. 'The Conception of Morality in Jurisprudence.' [The
jurist conceives of the law as absolute, and of morality as a code of rules.
While this conception may suffice for the judge, the theoretical jurist must
base his theory upon a sounder ethics.] J. H. Tufts. ' Refutations of
Idealism in the "Lose Blatter."' Discussion: W. M. Daniels. 'MrBalfour's
Criticism of Transcendental Idealism.' Reviews of Books. Summaries of
Articles. Notices of New Books. Notes: H. N. Gardiner. 'Recent
Discussion of Emotion.'
PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW. Vol. in. No. 1. G. S. Fullerton. 'Psy-
chology and Physiology.' [Criticism of physiological usage (Foster) of
psychological concepts. Warning to psychologists not to follow physiology
for physiology's sake.] H. Milnsterberg. ' Studies from the Harvard
Psychological Laboratory. (III.)' (1) W. G. Smith. 'The Place of
Repetition in Memory.' [The results "confirm in general the accepted
288 PHILOSOPHICAL PERIODICALS.
fact of the efficacy of continued repetition in impressing any kind of
subject-matter on the memory." No definite connexion is traceable
between excellence of memory and mode of reproduction.] (2) M. W.
Calkins. ' Association. (II.) ' [Frequency is the most constant condition
of suggestibility. It is compared with recency, vividness and primacy.]
(3) L. M. Solomons. ' The Saturation of Colours.' [Colours vary in
colour-tone, saturation, intensity and blackness. The saturation of a
mixture of colour and white is independent of the intensity and of the
quantity of colour, and depends only on the ratio of the colour to the
white.] (4) J. B. Hylan. 'Fluctuations of the Attention. (I.)' [Oscil-
lation of two grey spots, indirectly seen, with varying direction of
attention. Oscillations of touch and temperature sensations.] Discussion
and Reports. C. A. Strong. ' Physical Pain and Pain Nerves.' [Reply to
Marshall and Nichols.] J. Jastrow. 'Community of Ideas of Men and
Women.' [Remarks on the Wellesley College results. The contradiction
of the writer's by them is only apparent.] C. L. Franklin. ' The Function
of the Rods of the Retina.' [von Kries has ignored the writer's priority
in the hypothesis that the rods are the organs of brightness sensation.]
W. M. Urban. ' Something more about the " Prospective Reference " of
Mind.' J. H. Hyslop. ' Our Localisation in Space.' [Two cases of mis-
taken apprehension of situation.] W. Lay. ' Three cases of Synsesthesia.'
Psychological Literature. Notes.
AMERICAN JOURNAL OF PSYCHOLOGY. Vol. vn. No. 2. C. A. Scott.
' Sex and Art.' [Bases " the connection on the one hand, the equivalence
and interchangeability on the other, of the sexual passions (including the
anger-fears) and the more intellectual instincts of art, religion, and the
interests and enthusiasms generally, upon the fundamental quality of
erethism found in every animal cell. The psychological expression of
this bodily state is traced from its simplest manifestation, through animal
combat and courting, the courting of the lower races, and the ensuing and
accompanying religious, dramatic, and otherwise symbolic phenomena of
phallicism (all to be regarded as essentially subdivisions of courting) to
the more complex conditions of modern times Modern art is repre-
sented as being the psychical expression of an erethism which is an
equivalent, and historically a derivative, of that of sex. :) An important
paper, whose chief defects are a too great reliance upon secondary
authorities, and a too unhesitating acceptance of biological theory as
biological fact.] H. Griffing. ' On the Development of Visual Perception
and Attention.' [Experiments on school-children regarding the range of
visual attention (extensive limen of attention). The range is a function
of individual growth. The chief value of the results lies, as the writer
sees, in the indications they give of the complexity and difficulty of the
subject investigated.] A. Allin. 'The "Recognition Theory" of Percep-
tion.' [Criticism of the doctrine of Hb'ffding, Wundt, Sully, Spencer,
Ward, etc., etc.] A. Allin. ' Recognition.' [Somewhat disjointed remarks
upon the process of recognition in general. Good points made are that a
centrally excited sensation is not necessarily memorial, that recognition is
of the object and not of the sensation, etc. Both papers should be read in
connexion with the writer's doctorate thesis : Ueber das Grundprincip der
Association (physiological continuity).] Reviews. Notes.
REVUE PHILOSOPHIQUE. Vingtieme Annee, No. 11 (Novembre, 1895).
B. Perez. ' Le Developpement des idees abstraites chez 1'enfant.' [Dis-
cusses, with abundant examples, the best mode of training children in the
use of general terms. The method is in substance that of Socrates,
PHILOSOPHICAL PERIODICALS. 289
modified to suit the requirements of the child-mind.] A. Forel. ' Activite
ce're'brale et conscience.' [Maintains, as against M. Jules Soury, that we
ought to distinguish sharply between consciousness and mere formal
subjective attitude, and the special content of consciousness with its various
modifications.] 0. Richard. ' La Sociologie ethnographique et 1'Histoire :
leur opposition et leur conciliation.' [The essential data of Sociology are
historical rather than ethnographical. The ethnographical data possess
value only in so far as they can be brought into connexion with historical.
Two general doctrines attributed to those sociologists who rely mainly on
Ethnography, are subjected to a searching criticism, the doctrine that
only war and conquest have produced high social organisation of extensive
communities, and the doctrine that industrial and intellectual civilisation
can in the first instance develop only in states of this type. An important
and instructive article.] H. Lachelier. ' La The"orie de 1'induction d'apres
Sigwart. (I.)' [Contains an exposition of Sigwart's general theory of
knowledge, of his account of the essential nature of inductive reasoning,
and of the determination, first of concepts and secondly of laws, by inductive
process.] Analyses et comptes rendus, &c.
No. 12 (De"cembre, 1895). J. Soury. 'Le lobe occipital et la vision
mentale.' H. Lachelier. ' La The"orie de 1'induction d'apres Sigwart. (Fin.)'
[Discusses Sigwart's account of the application of the inductive method in
Psychology. In summing up, M. Lachelier notes three points as of
primary importance in Sigwart's general philosophy: (1) The mode in
which the mind explains and comprehends reality is prescribed for it, not
by the external world, but by its own nature. (2) The world which thought
endeavours to render intelligible, is not the totality of our representations ;
it is a world of realities which are independent of us and exercise causal
action, not only on each other, but on our mind. Though these realities
are distinct in existence from the mind, and have their own laws, while the
mind has its own laws, the mind can nevertheless understand them.
Their laws are therefore in harmony with the laws of our thought.
(3) Mental and material process determine each other in the way of inter-
action, and are not merely parallel. M. Lachelier urges that both the
harmony of the laws of thought and the laws of reality, and the interaction
between mind and matter, presuppose identity of nature. He also states
a dilemma. We must choose between two conceptions of the relation
between mind and reality ; either we know nothing a priori, or we know
prior to experience everything which can render experience intelligible.
He also criticises the theory that mind and body interact, on the ground
that, if they are alike in nature, there can be no essential difference
between the action of bodies on one another, and the interaction between
material atoms and the mind.] Revue Critique : E. Durkheim. ' L'Origine
du manage d'apres Westermarck.' [The value of Westermarck's work is
marred by his failure to analyse the conception of marriage, so as to give
it a definition which has real sociological significance. Permanent union
is not marriage unless its permanence is secured by the formal sanction of
society. Durkheim .holds with evident reason that marriage and what we
call the family, did not exist in the most primitive society.]
Vingt-et- Unieme Annee, No. 1 (Janvier, 1896). A. Foulllee. ' L-'hege*-
monie de la science et de la philosophic.' [In France, England, Germany,
and America, there is at the present day a tendency to disparage science
and philosophy as inadequate to the needs of humanity. The view taken
seems to be that, though science may be a good servant, it is a bad master.
M. Fouille"e maintains, in opposition to this movement, the hegemony of
science and philosophy; only we must, according to him, take a higher
view of the nature and function of science. Philosophy and science are
M. 19
290 PHILOSOPHICAL PERIODICALS.
not only speculations, they are modes of human activity ; and they ought to
become so in a still higher degree. The truth after which we are to seek
must be a harmony of actions and ideas.] E. Egger. ' Le moi des
mourants.' [Discusses the cases in which persons suddenly confronted
with death review the events of their life as a whole. A psychological
explanation is suggested.] Observations et Documents : Cfc. F4re\ ' Le
langage reflexe.' Duprat. ' Experiences sur une illusion visuelle normale.'
Revue Ge"nerale, &c.
REVUE DE METAPHTSIQUE ET DE MORALE. 4' Annee, No. 1. Janvier,
1896. E. Bataillon. ' Louis Pasteur.' [An encomiastic article on the late
M. Pasteur which will, we have no doubt, be interesting to Biologists and
Physiologists, and indeed to all who like to read of one who was a great
man of science, though not a philosopher.] L. Weber. ' Idees concretes et
images sensibles.' [There is a class of ideas which one may term 'singular
ideas,' related to singular objects unique in their kind denoted by proper
names. These ' singular' ideas possess a reality independent of the image
of the person referred to by the proper name. What is the nature
of the idea itself? The essay then proceeds to answer this question. The
word 'idea' being explained, it is stated that the external world, the
world of beings and real events, is composed of ' ideas,' signified by words,
as the ideal world is composed of concepts and abstractions. There is a Real
which is unknowable ; but it is not substance, not thing-per-se, not absolute.
The form in which our intelligence and reason realise themselves precludes
the possibility of ever knowing it. A highly mystical piece of metaphysics.]
G. Noel. ' La Logique de Hegel.' [Hegel is not, like Descartes and Kant,
one who would revolutionise thinking, or break with the past. Rather, he
would make the history of systems show that all are part of one system in
which thought is evolving. Yet Hegelianism is not eclecticism. Neither
is it a return to the dogmatism condemned by Kant, especially, as some
say, to that of Spinoza. Noel investigates the questions, first, how far
Hegel deserves to be called a Spinozist, and second, whether he has been
unfaithful to the fundamental thought of 'criticism.' He defends him
against both charges, and ends by declaring that we must either advance
beyond Kant to Hegel, or go back again to the position of Hume. These
articles of Noel on Hegel and his critics are interesting, not only for their
own sakes, but also as indicating how largely the philosophy of Germany
or what for some decades had been so par excellence has fascinated the
French mind, while there seems to be at present passing over German
speculation a wave of influence derived from the positivism of France.]
F. Hal6vy. ' Travaux rcents relatifs a Socrate.' Questions pratiques, &c.
REVUE NEO-SCOLASTIQUE. Fevrier, 1896. Dr H. HaJlez. ' Le temps et
la dure.' [Dr Hallez, in the course of a very ingenious but perhaps
somewhat paradoxical paper, maintains that time is a sensible image
representative of concrete duration.] Domet de Verges. ' L' objectivity de
la connaissance intellectuelle.' [M. Domet de Vorges, though little known
in England, has achieved much reputation in France as one of the ablest
among the many able men who are endeavouring to revive the study of
Scholasticism in that country. In the present article M. de Vorges is less
concerned to establish the objective value of intellectual knowledge than
to determine the mind of St Thomas on this question. The article is in
consequence primarily of historical interest. Still it contains much that
deserves the attention of the student of philosophy.] G. de Craene. ' Nos
representations sensibles interieures.' [M. Taine's treatise De V Intelligence
has provoked much discussion in France and has elicited many replies
PHILOSOPHICAL PERIODICALS. 291
from the advocates of ' la philosophic spiritualiste.' Amongst these replies
is one from M. de Craene which is now in the Press. The present article
is an extract from that reply, published in advance.] Cfc. Sentroul. ' Le
Socialisine et la question agraire.' [M. Sentroul, in an article of some
interest, discusses the attitude towards the land question of the various
Socialist Congresses.]
As an appendix to the Revue Ndo-Scolastique, there is published what
would seem to be an exhaustive list of treatises and articles bearing on
Philosophy that have recently appeared on the Continent and in England.
ZEITSCHRIFT FUR PHILOSOPHIE UND PHILOSOPHISCHE KKITIK. Neue
Folge, Band 107, Heft 2. H. Siebeck. ' Platon als Kritiker aristotelisches
Ansichten : der Philebus.' [This is a continuation, with reference to the
Philebus, of an attempt made by Siebeck in a former article, with reference
to the Parmenides, to show that Plato criticised certain of Aristotle's views
published during his master's lifetime a fact in which we may find a clue
to the interpretation of some of the Platonic dialogues. " The Protrepticus
(one of the earliest Aristotelean writings) may be regarded as having been
the immediate motive for the composition of the Philebus." Dr Siebeck,
as was to be expected, defends his position with a wealth of learning and
ingenuity, and these articles are very original and suggestive.] Julius
Bergmann. ' Ueber Glaube und Gewissheit.' [This paper seeks to answer
the question wherein consists the certainty which belongs to faith in the
stricter sense ? and leads to the conclusions (a) that the understanding, or
reason, alone can decide whether anything is true or untrue, certain or
uncertain ; (6) yet that a belief possessing certainty which is not knowledge,
but an anticipation of knowledge, is possible; (c) and that the 'heart'
(Gemiith) exerts an influence upon the understanding, and shows it the
way to knowledge.] Georg Simmel. ' Friedrich Nietzsche : eine moral-
philosophische Silhouette.' Matthias Szlavik. 'Zur Geschichte und Lit-
teratur der Philosophic in Ungarn.' Josef Muller. ' Das Erinnern.' [" In
the process called 'recollecting' ideas are not fetched back from the
unconscious and then arrayed in the garb of consciousness : they have not
really expired at all : they were only pushed aside, a little, by the rushing
stream of the mental life ; they do not, again, spring up of themselves
they have no such independence but the Soul accomplishes this, repro-
ducing them, according to its interest in them, and in conformity with the
laws of Similarity and Contiguity. Hence the Logic of Memory. It takes
a deeper hold of Rules than of examples : forgets names before facts : parts
before the whole, &c. The 'Ich' is no 'hook,' on which thoughts are
simply hung ; it is the active, ordering, principle in all mental functions ;
only many a piece of business is transacted in certain inferior offices and
by-apartments, which however are all under the supervision of the general
management and with it make up the united personality. Hence to
'recollect' is (1) to observe or notice, not to revivify or create; (2) it is a
logical judgment which, like every act of thought, can err, so that there
may be a false memory ; (3) it is an act of the united Soul, to which as its
accidents the ideas adhere." An interesting article, which whatever we
may think of the writer's conclusions seems to have been written by one
who is competently acquainted with the best and latest works on the
subject of Memory.] Karl Vorlander. ' Demokrit's ethische Fragmente,
ins Deutsche iibertragen.' [A piece of work of permanent value for
the student, which only want of space prevents us from noticing at length.]
Recensionen, Notizen, &c.
KRAEPELIN'S PSYCHOLOGISCHE ARBEITEN. Bd. i., Heft 2 and 3. 0.
Aschaffenburg. ' Experimentelle Studien liber Associationen.' [Experi-
292 PHILOSOPHICAL PERIODICALS.
ments on the associations occurring in response to given words with and
without time measurement Qualitative analysis of associations, using a
modification of Wundt's classification. Individual differences in character
and grammatical form of associated words. Ideas common to different
individuals noted. Scheme for classification at end of paper.] E. Amberg.
' Ueber den Eiufluss von Arbeitspausen auf die geistige Leistungsfahigkeit.'
[Chief result that a pause of 15 minutes in the middle of an hour's mental
work has a less beneficial effect than one of five minutes. Difference ascribed
to loss of a factor in the former case which is termed " Anregung." This is a
name for the process by which the inertia of the organism on beginning
work is overcome and is regarded as furnishing a third important factor
in addition to fatigue and practice in determining the form of a curve of
mental work.] A. Hoch and E. Kraepelin. ' Ueber die Wirkung der
Theebestandtheile auf korperliche und geistige Arbeit.' [Investigation
by means of ergograph and addition method on respective influence of
caffein and ethereal oils of tea. Describes a modification of Mosso
ergograph. Chief results that favourable influence of caffein on muscle
work is due to direct action on muscle substance. Unfavourable effect of
ethereal oils central. Beneficial effect of both on process of association.
The paper contains important contributions to methods of estimating
effects of practice, fatigue, and "Anregung," of analysing muscle fatigue
curves, of examining individual differences in capacity for mental work,
etc.]
VlERTELJAHRSSCHBIFT FDR WISSENSCHAFTLICHE PHILOSOPHIE. Jahr-
gang xix., Heft 4. J. Kodis. ' Die Anwendung des Functionsbegriffes auf
die Beschreibung der Erfahrung.' A Ploetz. ' Ableitung einer Rassenhy-
giene und ihre Beziehungen zur Ethik.' F. BleL ' Die Metaphysik in der
Nationalokonomie.' R. Wlassak. ' Bemerkungen zur allgemeinen Physio-
logic.' Anzeigen, &c.
ZEITSCHR. F. PSYCH, u. PHYSIOL. D. SINNESORGANE. Bd. ix. Heft 3
and 4. H. Ebbinghaus. ' Ueber erklarende und beschreibende Psychologic.'
[Dilthey has laid it down, in his Ideen uber eine beschreibende und
zergliedernde Psychologic, that psychology can never be more than
descriptive and analytic, and that recent attempts to make it explanatory
and constructive are wrong in principle and have led to nothing but
confusion of opinion in fact. The writer shows that Dilthey's polemic
does not touch the 'explanatory' psychologists, with the possible exception
of Herbart who is 'very, very dead'; that many of the rules laid down
are recognized as overtly by explanatory psychology as they could be by a
descriptive psychology planned after Dilthey's suggestions ; and that
Dilthey has failed as explanatory psychology has not failed to see
where the real difficulty of psychology lies.] G. Simmel. 'Skizze einer
Willenstheorie.' [Action does not follow upon will or impulse : will is the
'conscious aspect,' the 'feeling reflection ' of the first stage in the processes
of innervation which culminate in bodily action ; i.e. it is the conscious
representation of action begun.] G. Heymans. 'Quantitative Unter-
suchungen liber das "optische Paradoxon."' [Quantitative experiments
upon various forms of the arrow head and feather (Muller-Lyer) illusion.
Explanation in terms of eye-movement, based upon the explanations of
Wundt and Delbo3uf.] Besprechungen. [Review of Hoffding's Psychology
by Hofler, etc.] Litteraturbericht. Berichtigung.
Bd. ix. Heft 5 and 6. Karl Groos. ' Zum Problem der unbewussten
Zeitschatzung.' [The phenomena to be explained are those of waking
regularly at the same hour, of post-hypnotic execution of commands the
PHILOSOPHICAL PERIODICALS.
time of which was suggested only in the abstract, etc. The author
believes that attention is always an expectation, never a realisation ; and
that there are three forms of it, motor (expectation of an instinctive or
voluntary movement) ; theoretic (of an ideational connexion) ; and
aesthetic (of an enjoyment). He is thus able to refer the time estimations
to unconscious or subconscious attention.] S. OttolengM. ' Das Gefiihl
und das Alter.' [General sensibility (measured by the interrupted current)
is fairly well developed in children. It reaches its maximum in adult life,
differing, however, with occupation, degeneration, etc. It decreases again
in old age. Pain sensitivity is very little developed in children, reaches a
maximum in adult life, and decreases but little with old age.] W. Heinrich.
'Die Aufmerksamkeit und die Funktion der Sinnesorgane. (I.)' [If
objects in the lateral field of vision are attended to, the accommodation of
the eye changes : Helmholtz' statement to the contrary is incorrect.
During attention to non-visual impressions, the eye is unaccommodated.
The ocular changes stand in a direct correlation with the phenomena of
attention. Oscillations of visual attention can be adequately explained
from peripheral causes.] Litteraturbericht. Bibliographie der psycho-
physiologischen Litteratur des Jahres 1894. [1504 titles.] Berichtigung.
Bd. x. Heft 1 and 2. G. E. Mttller. ' Zur Psychophysik der Gesichts-
empfinduugen. (I.)' [Seeks to modify the theory of antagonistic
colours in such a way as to render unnecessary the statement of its
author (Hering) that " psychophysical processes of very different magni-
tude may give the same sensation, since everything depends not upon the
absolute magnitude of these processes, but upon their mutual relation."
Five psychophysical axioms are formulated. (1) Every conscious state
has as its substrate a material (psychophysical) process. (2) Likeness
and difference of sensations correspond to likeness and difference of
nature in the psychophysical processes, and vice versa. (3) Alteration in
a given direction on either side means alteration in the same direction on
the other. (4) Qualitative or intensive changes on either side mean
qualitative or intensive changes on the other. (5) The fifth axiom is a
determination, in the shape of a functional formula, of the relation of a
mixed sensation (quality) to its component simple sensations (intensity
and quality). The writer goes on to discuss the intensity and power of
sensations, and qualitative sensation series and their psychical representa-
tion. Then, making special applications of his conclusions to the sense of
sight, he deduces the six retinal 'fundamental processes,' which agree
with those assumed by Hering. The position of the six fundamental
colours in the colour system is next examined, with especial reference to
language (Wundt, etc.).] Ouillery. 'Ueber das Augenmass der seitlichen
Netzhauttheile.' [There is no essential difference between central and
peripheral eye-measurement. Weber's law does not hold for peripheral.]
A. Hofler. ' Kriimmuugskontrast.' [A case of architectural curvature-
contrast, which hardly admits of the possibility of explanation by a
physiological theory (Hering). Suggestion of explanation in terms of the
distinction of primary (given) and consolidated contents (Meinong).]
Litteraturbericht. Berichtigung.
IX. NOTES.
REPLY TO A CRITICISM.
I AM sorry that it should be in Mind that I again violate my rule never
to reply to book-reviews, for nowhere else did I ever do it : but I find in
Prof. Sully's notice of my book on Mental Development in the last number
some things on which our common readers should be set right. Passing
over the 'moral' charges which Prof. Sully finds it in his province to
make which will do no objective harm, I hope ; but may do me subjec-
tive good I wish to state a point or two in answer to Prof. Sully's
criticisms of the actual teachings of my book.
He makes the general charge that I do not credit other (save American)
writers sufficiently ; and says, apropos of the charge, that my reference to
Wundt on the attention is inadequate : that my theory is ' strikingly
similar in its essentials ' to Wundt's " well-known view." To this I say :
So far from being 'strikingly similar' to any one of the phases of
his theory which Wundt has developed in his different editions, it is nearer
to the theories of the Miinsterberg-Lange type : and either Prof. Sully
does not know his Wundt or he has not read with care the book he is
criticising. A little work just published by Heinrich 1 will bear (cautious)
citation on Wundt's theories of the attention.
Again, in criticising my experiments on the color-perception of infants,
he mistakes the problem I set myself, thinking that I mean color-prefer-
ence and color-discrimination, in spite of detailed criticisms of mine
directed precisely against this confusion 2 . He thinks that I showed two
colors simultaneously to the child ; while in my book I say : " On this
second rod the colors were placed in succession, the object being to excite
the child to reach for the color " (singular, not plural : Italics put in now),
p. 51. Prof. Sully has repeated this criticism more explicitly in other
places and now publishes it again in his book.
As to the 'novelty' of my use of the word 'suggestion' Prof. Sully would
have done well to quote the whole of my definition instead of half of it ;
I go on to say : " and it is typified by the abrupt entrance from without
into consciousness of an idea or image &c." and this is separated only by
a comma from the part quoted by Prof. Sully. And it might have been
fairer also to refer to the sections in which I compare and comment on
four other views. Moreover, reference to the English authorities whose
absence from the foot-notes of the book my critic so much deplores will
show him that my whole chapter on suggestion is based on a view similar
1 Die moderne physiolog. Psychologic in Deutschland, p. 80.
2 Ment. Devel. p. 39 f.
NOTES. 295
to that given in Tuke's Dictionary of Psychological Medicine 1 the common
view developed by Bernheim, to whom I directly refer.
These cases are enough to show the depth of the review. The criti-
cisms of my views on 'imitation,' 'volition,' &c. are just as superficial.
For example again at random take volition. Prof. Sully says : " In
truth the writer seems himself to see that imitation is not the only, if
indeed the chief source of volition, when he writes, &c." ; and does not hint
at the long argument (pp. 426 ff.) in which I deal with the very instance
which he goes on to cite, and show that it illustrates one of the main
distinctions that between ontogeny and phylogeny in development
which my book aims to make good. In this case he seems to me to
proceed by insinuation entirely.
Indeed the whole performance, as I can not help thinking, comes back
to its point of origin, certain moral charges.
Now I may only ask whether it is a sufficient or a competent bid for
the reader's prejudgment to say that I am a 'young American,' ' impatient
for ideas more than a year old,' and deal in ' curious diagrams.' And then
I may suggest the consideration that confessed ' irritation ' is not a good
psychosis from which to write things for a journal of the reputation of
Mind, all of which Prof, gully's own better taste would seem to confirm
by this sentence : " I have felt bound to enlarge on these obstacles which
the author has put in the way of a clear understanding and a fair estimate
of his book ; for it is quite possible that I have not surmounted them
and that the opinion of the work which I have done my best to form may
turn out to involve a certain amount of misapprehension."
J. MARK BALDWIN.
A few words will, I think, suffice by way of rejoinder to Prof. Baldwin's
objections to my review of his book.
(1) On reperusing his account of the mechanism of attention in
increasing the intensity of sensations I agree with him that his theory is
not ' strikingly similar ' to that of Wundt as I had erroneously said. But
the author is, I think, responsible for my error. In the note which I refer
to, when quoting from a letter of Prof. Hoffding (Mental Development,
p. 463) a view of the matter which appeared and still appears to me
essentially similar to that of Wundt, he uses with respect to this view
the words "which clearly takes the same ground as to the cause of
heightened intensities" (as his own). Taking his own interpretation of
Hoffding's view as correct I naturally wondered at his merely referring to
Hoffding's allusion to Wundt rather than appealing to Wundt directly.
(2) I did not, as Prof. Baldwin says that I did, speak of his showing
two colours to his child simultaneously. My words were (Mind, V. N. s.
pp. 98, 99) : " by presenting successively in suitable situations certain
colours." If I have elsewhere made the mistake which he speaks of, I will
correct it : though I fail to see what it has to do with the point of my
criticism.
(3) In quoting Prof. Baldwin's definition of suggestion I completed the
definition as quoted by himself from an article of his own in Science. He
complains that I did not go on and quote another quotation also from
himself which does not fall grammatically under the words : " I have
myself defined suggestion," but is introduced by the words : " and it is
typified etc." I fail to see Prof. Baldwin's grievance. For the rest
1 Art. Suggestion. See also Tuke's Influence of the Mind on the Body.
296 NOTES.
it seems to me that Prof. Baldwin's present contention that his view of
the process of suggestion is based on another view reads oddly after the
chapter referred to (Chap. VI.), which after reading it again in the light of
the above note still seems to me to make a very distinct claim of origi-
nality for what the writer expressly calls " my view."
(4) With respect to Prof. Baldwin's objections to my criticism of his
theory of Imitation I am ready to allow that the words I used, "seems
himself to see," hardly do justice to his position. My point was that after
trying apparently to make imitation serve as the single source of volition
in individual development he finds himself compelled to allow something
to that play of chance or accident which, as I understand him, he had
before been so resolutely excluding. I did not mean to say that he made
these concessions inadvertently, though I now see that my language might
bear this interpretation.
(5) I have brought no " moral charges " against Prof. Baldwin. I spoke
of moral difficulties so as to distinguish them from the intellectual ones dealt
with in the first paragraph of my review. The phrase, I should have
supposed, was sufficiently clear. If Prof. Baldwin prefers to give extracts
from his own previously published and accessible books much more
frequently than extracts from any other authority he is likely to raise a
prejudice in people whom he might regard as weakly old-fashioned. Such
a prejudice would constitute a moral as distinguished from an intellectual
difficulty in the way of those persons' comprehension of his meaning ;
though they would not of course be justified on the ground of this
difficulty in accusing him of not being moral. I can only express regret
that any words of mine could have seemed to Prof. Baldwin to imply
moral charges.
As to Prof. Baldwin's remarks on my confession of a sense of these diffi-
culties and (by implication) of a certain feeling of irritation, I cannot see
how this unfortunate experience of mine amounts to a hardship for
Prof. Baldwin. Does he mean to suggest that when a reviewer feels
difficulties of this kind he ought to retire in favour of somebody less
squeamish ? And is he as an editor of opinion that such an arrangement
would best conduce to the true interests of Science ?
J. SULLY.
Cambridge : Printed at the University Press,
NEW SERIES. No. 19.] [JULY, 1896.
MIND
A QUARTERLY REVIEW
OF
PSYCHOLOGY AND PHILOSOPHY,
I ON THE INTERPRETATION OF PLATO'S
PAR MEN IDES. (I.)
BY A. E. TAYLOR.
FEW monuments of antiquity have provoked and continue to
provoke so much discussion as the Parmenides of Plato. There
is hardly any question, whether of fact or of interpretation,
raised by this dialogue upon which the most divergent opinions
have not been held by equally competent authorities. Its
authenticity has been seriously impugned, and perhaps not
altogether without reason ; it has been doubted whether we
have in this dialogue one of the earliest or one of the latest of
the Platonic writings: the most varying estimates have been
formed of its worth, whether as a source for the understanding
of Platonism and early Greek philosophy in general, or as an
independent contribution to speculation. While, to come to
what will be almost exclusively the subject of the present essay,
there has been no less dissension as to the design and argu-
ment of the dialogue itself. To mention only a few typical
views, we find that ancient and modern Neo-Platonists have
discovered a mine of theologic treasure in what was to the less
credulous Grote a mere tissue of ingenious paradoxes less
amusing if more subtle than the riddle of the "man and
no-man" in the Republic. Another and a more accredited
view sees in the argumentation of the first part and the
puzzles of the second a restatement by Plato of Megarian
objections to the doctrine of Ideas met by a counter-demon-
stration of the equal unsatisfactoriness of the Megarian " One."
M. 20
298 A. E. TAYLOR:
A third school of interpreters on the contrary treat the objec-
tions to the ideal doctrine as first formulated as perfectly
serious, and see in the hypotheses, not a mere turning of the
tables upon an opponent too able to be directly refuted, but
the foundation of a newer and sounder ideal theory. Lastly, it
has even been suggested, (by Stallbaum), that the main object
of the present dialogue is not so much to prove a thesis as to
present, in the form of a pendent to the Sophistes and Politicus,
that companion sketch of the philosopher philosophizing which
Plato had promised in Politicus p. 257.
Distressing as such universal uncertainty and confusion
may be, it perhaps serves to make things easier for one who
would contribute in his modest way to the better understanding
of this dialogue. Where all is dark even a rushlight may be of
some service, and it is the very great obscurity in which the
whole subject still remains which has given me the courage to
hope that even the humble task of analysing the argument of
the Parmenides might not be without its reward. Accordingly
I propose to abstain as far as may be from excursions into fields
of learning where I am only too conscious that I should be an
intruder. I shall offer no new theory about the date of the
Parmenides nor about its connection with the school of Megara,
nor shall I have anything to say except incidentally on the
general character of Plato's philosophy. The task I have set
before me is a far simpler one, though I venture to think that
until it has been performed it is premature to raise these vaster
issues. The question I shall attempt in some degree to
answer is no more than this. Can we discover under the
apparent incoherence of our dialogue any one leading con-
ception by the help of which its puzzles may be reduced to
simplicity ? What right I have for thinking that this question
can be answered in the affirmative I must leave the reader to
judge. We have first then to ask ourselves which of the four
or five classes of theory as to the purpose of our dialogue is
likely to be correct. If Grote be right in regarding the greater
part of the dialogue as mere ingenious exercises in the art of
puzzle-construction, it is clear that time spent in a detailed
analysis of its peculiarities would be simply wasted, and our
wisest course would be to dismiss the hypotheses as having no
more value and less interest than a conundrum or a chess
problem. Such a view cannot from the nature of the case be
refuted except in one way, viz., by the de facto establishment of
a coherent interpretation of the dialogue as a whole and this
is all the refutation I propose to bestow on it : it must however
be remembered that while any success refutes Grote one more
failure affords his theory no appreciable additional support.
ON THE INTERPRETATION OF PLATO'S PARMENIDES. 299
It will hardly be necessary for me to offer a formal disproof
of that ancient view which sees in our dialogue a treatise of
mystical theology. For it would be generally admitted now
that Plato, like Hegel, has no secret doctrine, no esoteric sense,
though unwise persons have often sought to discover one in
both. It is most significant of the difference between the
genuine philosopher and the charlatan that the abstract logic
of the Parmenides is all we find when we look for a disciplina
arcani in Plato's writings. The third view 1 , at first sight
more plausible, is really equally impossible. It is at least a
very doubtful assumption that the Parmenides was written
after the Sophistes and the Politicus. The references in
Theaetetus 183 E and Sophistes 217 c, especially the latter, are
more natural if understood of an already published work than
of one yet to be composed. Indeed the commendation bestowed
by Socrates on the discourse of Parmenides in Soph. 217 c
would on Stallbaum's theory be a peculiarly offensive specimen
of the art of "puff." Nor does the Parmenides in any way
correspond to the missing Philosophus. It was not only Plato
but the "stranger from Elea" who undertook to describe the
philosopher, and we should naturally expect him to redeem his
promise in person. And it would be a grave artistic blunder to
append to the two dialogues in which the Eleate had defined
the sophist and the statesman by the method of dichotomy a
sequel containing a description of the philosopher by an entirely
different person and a totally different method. The incredi-
bility of this theory becomes still more patent when we
remember the occurrence of an emphatic and express declara-
tion of Plato in the Politicus (286 D) that the real interest of
the discussion centres in the method of division by dichotomy,
compared with which the definition of the statesman is only of
secondary importance. This passage alone to my mind abso-
ffi
1 For Stallbaum's defence of this view see his edition of the Sophistes
i. 52-54, with which compare pp. 128-131 of his edition of the Politicus.
is response to the objection about the change of scene and dramatis
persona, that the Eleatic Stranger and the rest of the characters of the
Sophistes may be *a>0a jrpoa-wTra in the Parmenides, is hardly satisfactory.
Was Socrates, we may well ask, one of the audience to whom Cephalus
related at third hand the conversation between Parmenides and himself?
Stallbaum's views on the date of the Parmenides seem never to have
settled. In his separate edition of the dialogue he defends the order
Sophistes, Parmenides, Politicus, which is also that of Zeller's Platonische
Studien, and places all three before the Republic, Timaeus, Laws. In his
editions of the Sophistes and Politicus the identification of the Parmenides
with the Philosophus has led to the new arrangement Sophistes, Politicus,
Parmenides ; whfle lastly in his edition of the Timaeus p. 212 he makes,
though diffidently enough, the strange suggestion that the proper place of
the Parmenides is after the Timaeus.
202
300 A. E. TAYLOR:
lutely excludes the idea that Plato can have published along
with the Politicus, or in immediate sequence upon it, a third
part in which Sictipeo-is Kar ei&r) disappears entirely and a
wholly new process the construction of antinomies takes its
place. And I believe I may safely add that the linguistic
evidence is unfavourable to the belief that the Parmenides
belongs to the Sophistes and Politicus group 1 .
It would seem then that we are justified in believing, along
with the majority of interpreters, that the main interest and
purpose of the dialogue is metaphysical, and I think we may
safely go a step further and say it is not the method of
Parmenides and in this the present dialogue is the very
reverse of the Sophistes and Politicus but his results to which
Plato attaches supreme importance. The method is indeed no
more than a simple and obvious extension of common-sense ;
Plato was not the man to present the statement that it is
always advisable to examine all the consequences of admitting
or denying a proposition to the world as a great philosophical
discovery. The novelty lies not in the process of inference by
which Parmenides comes to his conclusions, but in the startling
and paradoxical character of the conclusions themselves. And
it is not without some significance that there is no such express
commendation of the method employed to be found in our
dialogue as that which I have already cited from the Politicus.
It is indeed warmly recommended, but only as a useful pre-
liminary exercise and discipline for a philosophic but untutored
spirit, not as an organon of matured speculation.
Assuming then that Plato intends us to extract some
positive teaching from the negations and paradoxes of Par-
menides, how are we to know whether our interpretation is on
the right track? Fortunately the construction of the dialogue
itself provides us with an answer to what would otherwise be a
very awkward question. The dialogue Parmenides falls as is
universally known into two well-defined and unequal parts
which seem at first sight quite independent of each other.
Such a want of connection would however be without a parallel
in the rest of Plato, and, in the present case especially, it is
flatly incredible that Parmenides should, after reducing Socrates
to a state of hopeless perplexity by his criticisms of the Ideas,
turn quietly to an entirely different subject without any
attempt to answer the difficulties he has himself created. The
case of the dialogues of search, where an investigation con-
sistently pursued throughout the conversation nevertheless ends
fruitlessly, is quite dissimilar. We have thus a test supplied by
Plato himself of the correctness of our readings of the dialogue :
1 See also p. 324.
ON THE INTERPRETATION OF PLATO'S PARMENIDES. 301
that interpretation will have the highest claim for acceptance
which succeeds best in establishing an intimate and vital
connection between the criticism of the Ideas in the first part
of the dialogue and the results of the conflicting hypotheses in
the second. To find in the antinomies of the last three quarters
of the Parmenides the solution of the difficulties raised in the
first quarter of it is, in brief, the problem with which we are
now called upon to grapple. And in dealing with this some-
what difficult problem it will, I think, be best to adopt a
procedure exactly contrary to that of Zeller in the Platonische
Studien. We should start not from the second part of the
dialogue but from the first ; not from the / and ra\\a of the
antinomies, but from the more familiar eiSij and /i#et<? of the
preliminary conversation between Socrates and Parmenides.
For this first part of the dialogue sets the problem and pitches
the key for the rest. Half the difficulty of the hypotheses is
due to uncertainty as to the exact application of the extremely
abstract terms with which they are concerned, and this un-
certainty can only be overcome by a perfectly definite conception
of the issues under discussion, which again can only be obtained
by a careful analysis of the opening chapters of the dialogue.
Everything thus depends on our understanding clearly what it
is that Socrates puts forward as his first theory of Ideas, and on
what points in the theory the strictures of Parmenides are passed.
Accordingly I have no choice but to stake my whole reading of
the dialogue on the correctness or incorrectness of the brief
analysis of chapters 1 8 to which I now invite the reader's
attention.
There is nothing in the introductory narrative which calls
for detailed notice from our point of view, but I should like in
passing to make one remark which has no special bearing on
the present paper. Plato's repeated references almost compel
us to accept, as I believe the majority of the commentators do,
the meeting of Socrates and Parmenides as historical fact. But
it is quite certain that on that historic occasion the actual
Parmenides must have discoursed not, like his Platonic repre-
sentative, of metaphysics, but of physics 1 pure and simple.
Hence the presence at the discussion of the youthful Socrates
seems conclusive proof that at that period at least he had not
come to regard physical speculation with the contempt which he
afterwards professed for it, and the Parmenides, like the Cra-
tylus, affords valuable and unexpected evidence to the general
truth of the Aristophanic as against the Xenophontic portrait
of the philosopher.
1 I xise the term approximately in the Aristotelian sense. In a wider
sense Parmenides might be called the founder of metaphysical criticism.
302 A. E. TAYLOR :
To return however to our main argument. It will be
remembered that the starting-point of the discussion lies in the
paradoxes of Zeno. The object of these ingenious puzzles was,
as is well known, to establish the Eleatic doctrine of the
simplicity of real being indirectly by shewing the absurdities
which follow from assuming a plurality of reals, and the
particular argument cited by Plato fixes on the difficulty which
arises from the apparent inherence in the same thing of opposite
qualities. How can one and the same thing be both one and
many, like and unlike ? Is it not clear that in such a case
either the unity or the plurality must be mere appearance ?
And, as a real plurality is unthinkable without real units, we
are driven to take the unity as real and the plurality as mere
appearance. Such was the crude form in which the problem of
unity in diversity first presented itself in philosophy, and it is
out of the attempt to answer a question thus directly thrust
upon us by the earliest reflection on the course of our experience
that the subtle speculation of the Parmenides, and ultimately
the whole of modern metaphysics, has grown. The stand-point
from which Socrates in 129 comments on the paradoxes of Zeno
is that of a dualism which is all but absolute, and the criticisms
of Parmenides do no more than make patent what is involved
in his opening statement. There is, he says, a world of sensible
things, and there is also a world of Ideas or Forms ; sensible
things are what they are in virtue of " participation " in one or
more of these independent forms : the forms however exist by
themselves, "apart" from (^wpi? avra KCL& avra 129E) the
sensible world. And, as far as that world is concerned, Socrates
is prepared to accept the position of common-sense which had
been impugned by Zeno. Things, inasmuch as they are the
meeting-points of various and even of opposite ideas, may have
different qualities according to the relations in which they
stand: there is nothing paradoxical, as Zeno had thought, in
the assertion that the same object or person is in one sense one,
in another many. The incompatibility of unity and plurality
only exists in the world of pure forms. Here self-identity
apparently excludes diversity, and it would at least be a great
feat to shew that the forms themselves are capable of mutual
combination (129E). In other words, the opening speech of
Socrates contains a criticism which goes straight to the root of
the matter. Zeno and his opponents alike had been concerned
solely with physical and sensible existence : Plato will have us
to understand that the problem has to be faced over again at a
higher level : it is not physical but metaphysical. So the
contrast between Socrates and Zeno in the dialogue reflects
the contrast between the naive materialism of the early
ON THE INTERPRETATION OF PLATO'S PARMENIDES. 303
Greek philosophers and the deeper speculation of a later
age.
Plato's meaning in his statement that the whole problem
must be raised again in the world of ideas and the distinction
he draws between Zeno's procedure and that which he has in
view may be illustrated by the parallel passage in the Philebus 1
and may be made even clearer by an example. To take
Socrates' own instance, we may say that it is easy to see in a
particular case that in some sense the same piece of machinery
or the same animal is both one and many : it is not so easy to
grasp the true conception of a machine or an organism as a
unity which only exists in diversity. Or, again, it is easy to
see that the Universe may in some sense be said to be one, but
it is far from easy to form the idea of it as a systematic whole
determining all its parts. It is this difference of view which
Socrates expresses in dualistic language when he speaks of
transferring the problem to the world of ideas. We shall see
further on what is meant by shewing the mutual implication of
opposites in the ideal sphere. We may at present simply note
that Plato has already given us a hint of the character of the
hypotheses yet to follow. It should be observed that Par-
menides at 135 E especially prefaces the hypotheses with a
repetition and a commendation of this principle which is thus
beyond a doubt inculcated as Plato's own, and, as we shall see,
forms the connecting link between the two parts of the dialogue
and the key to all its enigmas.
Parmenides at once fastens on the weak point in Socrates'
theory. Socrates has unconsciously in his attempt to explain
the real world set up another which cannot by any intelligible
device be made to fall within it. So we find Parmenides
careful from the first to tie Socrates down to the separateness
and self-containedness of the ideas (%<u/n<? yuei/ elvat elBrj avra
arra %<wpi<? Se ra TOVTCOV av /teredo I/TO, 130 B. cf. 130 C D. avrd
Kad' avTa...d<J>opi%6/j,evo<; 133 B). This is a point of cardinal
importance, because, as will be seen in the sequel, Parmenides'
arguments turn entirely on the assumption of this separation.
The whole argument of Parmenides is, in fact, the application
in detail of a single principle which may be stated thus:
Sever unity from diversity, and you are at once involved in the
impossible task of shewing how these incompatibles come into
connection. You wish to understand the world as a single
whole, and, to make it intelligible, you create a second world of
real being from which all motion and contradiction are banished.
But your world of reality and your world of appearance fall
1 Philebus 14 c. ff.
304 A. E. TAYLOR :
hopelessly apart, while yet you maintain that the one is some-
how the truth and ground of the other. Both claims break
down on your hands, for your ideal world can neither be (a) the
cause, nor (6) the truth of the perceived world. Following the
argument into detail, I would present the following analysis, to
each step of which I invite careful attention.
1. Establishment of the point at issue. Contents of the ideal
world. (130 B E.)
You assert the existence of Forms and their complete
severance from perceived reality. (%&>/H<? pev eiSr) KT\.) What
then are the contents of this separate self-existent world of
Forms 1
(1) Simple qualities and relations (likeness, unlikeness),
and mathematical determinations (unity, plurality).
(2) Moral and cesthetic systematic wholes (justice, beauty,
goodness). These two classes are admitted without hesitation.
(3) Organic types and the primary forms of matter (man,
fire, water). Socrates expresses considerable hesitation and
leaves the position of such universals undecided, a fact which
is not without its bearing on some recent readings of Plato-
nism 1 .
(4) Matter of more ignoble and vulgar kinds (hair, mud,
etc.). Its claims are at once rejected. " You are young yet,
Socrates ; when you are older you will be less influenced by such
sentimental considerations."
Here then we have a first and serious objection to the
theory of Socrates. That theory lacks the courage to be true
to itself. It refuses to admit ideal realities of a kind which
popular prejudice would find ridiculous, and yet the same
reasons which lead us to postulate an ideal reality corre-
1 If I were writing a polemic against the interpretation of Plato
advocated by Dr Jackson and Mr Archer-Hind I should be inclined to
lay no small stress on this passage. The argument as it seems to me
leads straight to the doctrine of the Republic and, I will add, of the
Timaeus (51 c E), which postulates an idea for every universal ; at the
very best we shall have to see in the Parmenides rather the traces of an
enlargement of the list of ideas by the raising of classes (3) and (4) of my
classification to the same level as (1) and (2) than the depletion of the list
by the exclusion of the former. A theory which logically necessitates the
banishment of the I8ta rdyadov stands to my mind self-condemned. And
I do not know what to make of a metaphysic which sees some private and
special approach to reality in organic types and refuses to place moral and
aesthetic systems at least on the same level. Is the Auto-Bug I may
perhaps be pardoned for asking of more worth and import in the scheme
of things than the avro o eori 8ato<ruw; 1 As for the absence of other
ideas than those of organisms and the elements from the Timaeus, what
else would one expect on any view in a cosmology? The Timaeus, we must
remember, is, after all, only a fragment of a larger whole.
ON THE INTERPRETATION OF PLATO'S PARMENIDES. 305
spending to the universal predicate "good" are applicable
with equal force to the case of the universals "mud," "hair,"
etc. Aristotle and those who, following in his steps, complain
that Plato does not discriminate between the different classes
of universal (cf. Met. A 9. 990 b 2231 ; Eth. N. 1. 6. 1096 a
23 29) have found it convenient to forget that, for the
problem on which Plato was engaged, the problem of predica-
tion, it was essential first of all to establish in some sense the
reality of all universals. It was only after this question had
for ever been set at rest by Plato that it became possible for
later philosophers to distinguish various grades in the common
reality. Finally, we may say that the criticism of Parmenides
is an assertion of the necessity of uncompromising logic and a
condemnation in advance of that crude and hasty Idealism
which owes more to an ill-regulated admiration for the grand
and vague than to steady and consistent thought.
2. In what intelligible sense can the world of Ideas be said
to be the cause or ground of the reality of the perceived world ?
(131 133 B.)
I have already attempted to explain the principle involved
in the argument of these pages. It was then purposely stated
in terms of the utmost generality, such as rendered it applicable
e.g. to Herbart's system of simple reals no less than to the sort
of Idealism advocated at 129 by Socrates. In more technically
Platonic language it may be formulated thus.
You say that the sensible world exists by " participation " in
the self-existent separated Forms : but it " passes the wit of
man to devise " any account of this " participation " which will
not be fatal to that very unity and simplicity which was to be
the fundamental character of the realities of the ideal world.
You will infallibly be committed either to (a) the divisibility
of the Idea or to (b) the infinite regress. Let us see how this
works out in detail.
1. (131 B, c). Is it the whole Idea, or only part of it, which
is present in the individuals which participate in it ? This
question inevitably arises if you conceive of the Idea as in any
sense a thing, over and above the sensible things, which has
somehow to be brought into relation to them. And either
answer is alike impossible. For if the whole of the ideal thing
be in each of the corresponding mundane things, it seems
somehow to have got outside itself, and so to involve a
plurality ; while if only a part of it be in each of them, then it
suffers division, and thus in either case its unity is gone.
Having once firmly grasped this general principle there is no
need for us to trouble ourselves further either with the patently
empty metaphors with which Socrates tries to rebut the former,
306 A. E. TAYLOR:
or with the subtleties of detail with which Parmenides succeeds
in clinching the latter alternative.
2. (132 A). A second principle of the first importance is
invoked against the Ideas. It is the argument familiar to us
under its Aristotelian designation as the "third man." Once
more we start from the unexpressed assumption that the Idea
is a thing, only not such a thing as we meet with in everyday
experience, presenting a variety of more or less incompatible
determinations, but a simple supersensible real. Thus con-
ceived of, its relation to the quality of which it is the Idea is
identical with that of the particular instances of its application ;
the " really big " can itself, like a big man or a big dog, have
" bigness " predicated of it. And it will therefore follow that,
just as an Idea of "big" is postulated to account for the
identical quality in the sensible big things, we must postulate
a second and still more remote Idea to account for the bigness
common to the particulars and the former Idea. And similarly
a third and a fourth, and so on ad indefinitum. Thus the unity
and simplicity of the Idea has been assailed both from within
and from without with complete success. Viewed from within,
our indiscerptible real has been dissolved into an indefinite
number of parts : seen from without, it is found to trail in its
wake a whole infinity of reals, each more shadowy than its
predecessor. And thus it would seem that the claim of the
world of Ideas to be an intelligible ground of the world of
sense-perception has been finally disposed of. It has been
shewn that any attempt to bring the simple reals and the
world of multiplicity and appearance into connection, even in
thought, must end in failure, and with this result one side of
Parmenides' polemic is in principle concluded. Socrates how-
ever makes two attempts to devise a theory of the connection
between Ideas and things which require some consideration.
It is suggested (a) 132s the Idea is simply an "idea in our
heads." This would save its unity, though, as we can easily see,
at the expense of its ultimate reality, and would lead us back to
a refined form of the subjective idealism of Protagoras and
Hume. Parmenides however does not enter on a detailed
examination of this interesting view but meets it at once with
a dilemma which, if not fully conclusive, is always likely to
prove effective as a weapon in the hands of the opponents of
mere subjectivity. The inherence of the idea in the particulars
has now been reduced to mean the entrance of a single mental
state into various combinations of mental states (132 c).
Accordingly we are asked to choose between two alternatives.
Either the things can themselves think, or there are unthought
thoughts. Similarly one might meet Mr Spencer's designation
ON THE INTERPRETATION OF PLATO'S PARMENIDES. 3()7
of his umbrella as a " set of visual states " by the query " what
becomes of the umbrella when it is put away in the stand ? Is
it a state of its own consciousness, or are there states of
consciousness of which no one is conscious ? " It is true there
are ways of escape from this dilemma, but the lines of thought
to which they would lead are so fantastic and so far removed
from the ordinary highroad of thought that we need not be
surprised if Socrates makes no further attempt to defend the
suggestion.
(6) Socrates' second suggestion is of much greater im-
portance. May we not say (132 D) that the best notion of the
relation between the idea and the particular is afforded by the
relation between an original and the copies made from it ? If
we think of the Idea as a sort of divine archetype or original of
which the actual world presents a multiplicity of sensible copies,
we seem to have reconciled the unity of the one with the plurality
of the other. For one original may be recopied a countless
number of times without in any way losing its own character of
singleness. Hence Socrates is now prepared to advance the
view that the idea is related to the particular as original to copy,
and that the " participation " which we have found so insoluble
a mystery is simply "resemblance" (77 /J,e6ei;i$ avrrj rot<?
a\\oi<?...ovK a\\r) Tt<? 77 eiicacrdrjvai, aurot?). It has been
pointed cfut that in his criticism on the new theory Parmenides
fixes solely on the latter part of it as the object of his attack.
He does not pronounce for or against the existence of " para-
deigmata" in nature, but proceeds to argue against the
substitution of "resemblance" for the more general "partici-
pation " as an account of the relation to the Ideas of the
sensible world. Against this view he once more employs the
" third man " principle. If the particular be like the Idea then
on Socratic principles this " likeness " can only be explained by
their common relation to a second Idea, and to this new Idea
the same considerations apply, and we find ourselves once more
condemned to the infinite regress. The conclusion then must
be (133 A). It is not by "resemblance " but in some other way
which we have yet to discover that things " participate in the
Ideas." And here we might be inclined to think and I believe
rightly so that the new account of the Ideas was as completely
disposed of as the old one. It has however been maintained by
some recent interpreters that the case is quite otherwise, and
that we have in the theory of " paradeigmatic " Ideas a new
version of Platonism which is presented to us by Plato as free
from the difficulties which have proved fatal to the earlier
theory of /ie#et?. Though this view has the eminent name of
Dr Jackson on its side I am convinced that it is erroneous at
308 A. E. TAYLOR:
least as far as the position of the Ideas in the present dialogue
is concerned, and I am consequently compelled to ask the
indulgence of the reader while I give my reasons for dissent.
The arguments in favour of this view, so far as they can be
separated from a much more wide-reaching general theory of
Plato's inner development, seem in the main to be the fol-
lowing :
(1 ) It is noteworthy that, while the name and theory of
et5 are very much to the front in a most important group
of dialogues (e.g. Republic, Phaedo) which seem to belong to
Plato's prime, in the Timaeus, which is admittedly one of his
latest writings, both the thing and the name 1 have disappeared,
though TrapaSeiyfjiaTa recur on every page. What more likely
then than that Plato gradually came to see the difficulties con-
nected with the theory of //,e'#et9 much as they are exposed in
the opening chapters of the present dialogue, and was led in
consequence to substitute in the final form of his philosophy
a " transcendent " Idea which is strictly separated from the
particulars for the old " immanent " Idea in which particulars
" participated " ?
(2) If we incline to this view of Plato's mental history we
seem to find a special significance in the Parmenides. For it
is in the present dialogue that we for the first time meet the
criticisms which are fatal to the theory of pedefys which had
satisfied Plato when he wrote the Republic : it is also here that
the theory of " paradeigmatic " Ideas is first advanced as an
answer to those difficulties. Hence on this view the one
dialogue which has hitherto been a standing puzzle acquires
a definite purport and a fixed place in the series of Platonic
writings. The Parmenides in fact marks the turning-point in
Plato's speculative career. Here for the first time he passes
from the old question how one thing can have many predicates,
to which the theory of /ie#eft? seemed to afford sufficient
answer, to the new question which will henceforth determine
his thought. How can one Idea, without losing its unity, be
dissipated among a plurality of things ? Confronted by Par-
menides with this new problem, Socrates finds himself unable
to answer it, and is in consequence compelled to abandon /ie#et9
and the immanent, for /U/U^OY? and the transcendent Idea, which
are, as already said, the marks of the latter, as distinguished
from the earlier, Platonism.
(3) Hence it is significant that Parmenides says, as I have
1 This last statement is only true if taken in a very literal sense ; cf.
Tim. 51 B pfTaXafjifiavov oTropwraro irfi TOV vorjrov. And to maintain the
transcendence of the tSr; in the Tim. you are bound with Mr Archer-Hind
to draw a distinction throughout c. 18 between two kinds
ON THE INTERPRETATION OF PLATO'S P ARM ELIDES. 309 1
already remarked, not a word against the first part of the new
explanation. His attack is directed not against the existence
of the " paradeigmatic " or " archetypal " Ideas, but solely
against the view that their relation to the ectypes can be
satisfactorily denoted by o/ioi'cocrt? or by elicaa-Brjvai avrols.
We conclude therefore that the latter half of the theory may
be incorrect, but the first part that the Idea is a TrapdSeiypa
is a hint, now for the first time given by Plato, of the modi-
fication of his original theory which we may henceforth expect
to find in his writings.
Against these arguments I would however venture to
suggest the following objections which are to my mind con-
clusive, at least as far as the Parmenides is concerned.
(1) The theory just stated assumes an order of the Pla-
tonic writings which is at any rate open to grave question.
There is at least as much reason for placing the Parmenides
before as for placing it after the Republic 1 . And yet if the
Parmenides be prior to the Republic the above account of
Plato's mental development falls at once to the ground.
(2) And in any case the relation of /ze#e|;ts to the " para-
deigmatic " Idea seems to be misconceived. It is not the case
that we have first a period in which we are told only of /ie#ef 19
and then a second period in which we hear of nothing but
/zt/A77<7t9. For if the only perfectly clear case of a "paradeig-
matic " Idea to be found in the Republic is that of the " ideal
bed " of 597 which serves as a model to the carpenter, we meet
constantly with passages where the word is used in connections
which approximate so closely to this meaning as hardly to
allow of any serious distinction : cf. 500 E and 592 B. As for
yu,e#et9 I will content myself for the present with producing
two passages from a dialogue which is admittedly one of the
later ones. At Soph. 255 E one thing is said to differ from
another because it "partakes of the idea of diversity" Bid TO
fiT%eiv 7-779 t8e'a9 T?;9 0arepov, and a little lower down a thing
has identity Sid rr)v /jieQegiv ravrov 2 . I should consequently
conclude that, so far from the use of one or the other set of
phrases about the Ideas and their relation to particulars
marking an earlier or later stage in Plato's thought, Plato
1 See Zeller in Platonische Studien and Oeschichte n. 1. 548, Apelt
pp. 63, 64 (whose views based on Constantin Hitter seem more probable
than those of Zeller) and cf. p. 324 below.
2 This passage in itself by the way, as it seems to me, disposes of
Mr Archer-Hind's " deduction " that the ^fyurra ytvrt of the Sophistes are
not eify ; unless a distinction be made, as in the Timaeus, between two
classes of 8;. But the identity of 8or and ytvos in Plato is too well-
known to need any proof here. See however the passages quoted below
at p. 321.
310 A. E. TAYLOR:
allowed himself from the first to use either metaphor at
pleasure according as it suited the general complexion of a
particular passage, and I will add that I have no doubt that
he was quite as well aware that both were no more than
metaphors as any of his critics can be. That the two ex-
pressions were understood by Aristotle to be interchangeable
and to have no reference to a development of opinion is so
patent that Mr Archer-Hind is driven (on Tim. 52 A) to impute
something like unfairness to him to explain his application of
the theory of /ze#et? to Plato's doctrine of space. It is perhaps
a simpler and more probable assumption that the reason why
Aristotle did not distinguish a period of /ie0et<? from a period
of /uVtT/o-i? in his account of Plato is the very good one that no
such periods existed.
(3) And with reference to the Timaeus, while I admit that
the relation of the Idea to its particulars is there habitually
spoken of as that of an archetype to the copies of it, I would
respectfully submit that, given the mythical setting of the
dialogue, no other phraseology was artistically possible, and
that to press the metaphors which are natural to the mythical
poet as pieces of rigidly scientific metaphysic is as absurd as it
would be to take the similar language about the " pattern laid
up in heaven 1 " of the ideal city in the Republic in the same
way. And why if we are allowed to treat the heavenly
craftsman as part of the myth are we to take his archetypes
seriously? And I think I can further justify my refusal to
regard the words i^L^a-^ and TrapaSeiypa in the Timaeus as
rigidly scientific terms by the following indirect argument.
It is admitted even by the believers in the " paradeigmatic "
Idea that the theory of its relation to particulars indicated by
the words o/Wcoo-i? and eueeurQfjvat is pronounced by Par-
menides false in so many words. Now at Tim. 51 A we read of
TO, T(uv TrdvTtov aeL re ovT(ov...d(f>o/jiOi(ofjiaTa, by which are
meant the material things in which the Ideas are particularised,
and at 30 C it is asked TIVL rwv "Cfjxav ei9 o/iotor^ra 6 ^fi/tcrra?
%vvi<TTr)(T (sc. rov KOO-^OV), while I need hardly pile up instances
of the use of ei/cwv, et/co? in the same connection (cf. for
specimens Tim. 29 B, 92 B). Seeing then that Plato does not
scruple in the mythical narrative of Timaeus to employ
phraseology which he has himself pronounced not strictly
philosophical, we can hardly conclude from the frequent
presence of the TrapaSeiypa in that dialogue that it is more
than one metaphor among others.
(4) And, whatever be the case with the Timaeus, we may,
I think, be certain that in the Parmenides the theory that the
1 Rep. 592 B.
ON THE INTERPRETATION OF PLATO'S PARMENIDES. 311
Idea is a " paradeigma " is not advanced as an alternative to
the theory of //.e#ei9, but only as a special case of it. For an
integral part of the theory is that /juedegis is resemblance (OVK
a\\r) 77 eifcaa-drjvai avrois). The two theories are thus not
held by Socrates to be mutually exclusive: one is advanced,
not as a correction, but as a further explanation of the other.
Similarly Parmenides winds up his refutation of the doctrine of
oyu-ottuat? not by concluding, "thus the theory of /u,e'0eft<? is
fundamentally wrong and must henceforth be abandoned,"
which is what he ought to say on Dr Jackson's and Mr Archer-
Hind's view, but " thus we must find some better account of
what /ie#et? is" (aXXo TI Bel fyretv <p /j,Ta\afi@dvei). That in
some sense the particular peTdXapftdvei rr)<; ISeas Parmenides
thus tacitly assumes: the only question is to explain in what
sense.
(5) And lastly to end this tedious piece of argumenta-
tion I must confess that I cannot understand how the two
elements of the view advanced by Socrates at 132 D can be
separated from one another. As far as I can see, if it is strictly
correct to apply the conception of a " model " or " original " to
the Idea, then you must conceive of its relation to the particular
as " likeness " or " resemblance," and, consequently, by the laws
of the ordinary hypothetical inference, if that relation can only
incorrectly be described as " likeness " it cannot be more than a
loose metaphor to call the Idea a " paradeigma." Others may
perhaps understand what is meant by a relation between two
things one of which is an "archetype" and the other an "ectype"
which must nevertheless not be called a relation of " likeness " :
for my own private part I can only plead my complete inability
to grasp what is meant as an excuse for not discussing the
speculative worth of the conception more fully. In fact, if one
is serious with the notion it seems to lead back to that primi-
tive conception of the unseen world as a mere replica in a more
shadowy form of the world of sense which Plato steadily
combats; while, if it doesn't mean something of this sort,
what is it but a mere catch-word ? This concludes what I
have to say on the conception of the Idea as a " paradeigma."
I shall offer some more general reflections on the question of
" transcendence " as against " immanence " when I have ended
my analysis of the first part of the dialogue.
We have now reached the conclusion of the first part of
Parmenides' polemic against the theory of Ideas as formulated
by Socrates at 129 A. He has proved up to the hilt by the
confession of Socrates himself that the Ideas as there conceived
cannot possibly be the ground of the existence of the sensible
world. And the rock on which the theory has made threefold
312 A. E. TAYLOR :
shipwreck has been the unity of the Idea conceived as the
complete negation of diversity. In making the Idea "separate"
(^tapi?) from the sensible world and incapable of diversity of
relations and predicates we have converted it into something
after the type of an Herbartian "real," and it has been through-
out this treatment of the Idea which has been the source of all
our difficulties. I have shown above that this was the case all
through the main argument against /*e#ef 49, and it is still easier
to see that it is the same fundamental flaw which vitiates the
" paradeigmatic " theory. For there is no meaning in saying
that the particular (e.g. horse) is like the generic concept unless
you think of this latter as in some way or other an individual,
just like any visible and tangible horse that paces and trots, and,
mutatis mutandis, the same is the case even with such ideas as
'justice," "bigness." To call them "things" would perhaps be
to perpetrate a slight outrage on ordinary language, but it is
essential that we should remember that in the theory we are
criticising they are to the full as individual as any of the cor-
responding particular cases. Hence it is that their existence
and their quality fall apart, and there is room within the unity
of the Idea for the predication of its content about its existence,
and thus for the inevitable regressus in indefinitum.
3. We may now turn to the second part of the polemic against
the errors of a hasty Idealism (133 B-135 B). As we have already
seen, ei8i) such as Socrates had described cannot be the ground
of the world's existence : we are now to learn that they cannot
constitute its truth. If the world of Forms exist it is at least
incapable of entering into our knowledge, and the knowledge, if
such there be, which reposes on the Forms is not a knowledge
of the actual world.
The argument proceeds as follows :
If you admit an Idea as something distinct from sensible
reality, something transcendent and self-contained (icaff avrijv),
you must hold that no Ideas are in our possession. To deny
this is to do away with the Idea's transcendence (133c).
Consequently, assuming that Ideas stand to one another in
fixed relations determined by their content, one Idea will
always be relative to another Idea, one actual thing to another
actual thing: there will never be a case where Idea and sensible
thing appear as the terms in this relation. This is of course
self-evident. The correlate of "slave" is "master": of a
particular slave a particular master, etc. What follows from
this 1 That true or ideal knowledge is knowledge of the Ideas
and is strictly relative to them, while the knowledge we are
competent to enjoy is knowledge of our own world alone. Thus
the world of self-existent Forms (notice 76^77 as a complete
ON THE INTERPRETATION OF PLATO'S PARMENIDES. 313
equivalent for 1877 134 B 1 ) is manifest only to an ideal know-
ledge : we who move in the world of mere sense-reality are
completely shut off from communication with them. We do
not (134 B) and cannot know what real beauty and real good-
ness are. And, what is still more perplexing, the same defect
attaches even to the perfect or divine intelligence, only on the
other side. If true knowledge be knowledge of the ideal world,
then God knows only the Ideas and has no knowledge of us or
our world. And similarly if "real mastership" has for its
correlate "real servitude" God is not our master nor are
we his servants. Thus, great as are the limitations which the
theory inflicts on human understanding, it forces them equally
on the divine. Such are the difficulties, Parmenides concludes,
which beset a theory of Ideas and lead to the belief that they
either do not exist or are unknowable to man. On the other
hand (135 B) to deny the existence of Ideas is to destroy all
discourse. Thus the choice seems to lie between affirming a
doctrine which has proved itself a mass of contradictions and
renouncing all attempts to understand the world.
Once more, before I comment directly on the argument of
Parmenides, I must enter a caution against a plausible, but, as
I think, a mistaken understanding. The argument just analysed
is not directed in any special sense against the "ideas of relation"
to the exclusion of other Ideas. The reasoning of ch. 6 by which
it is shewn that Idea is always and exclusively relative to Idea
is merely preliminary to the establishment of the exclusive
relation between true knowledge and true (i.e. ideal) existence.
And the argument based on this relation is one of universal
applicability. Even if you narrowed your list of Ideas down to
foUa and wa alone, it would still follow with equal cogency that
if the ideal &>a are in one world and the sensible wa in another,
God knows only the former and we only the latter. And I may
remark in general that to abolish ideas of relations would not
necessarily be to abolish relations among the Ideas, and it is the
latter on which the reasonings of ch. 6-7 are founded. For,
there is this difference between the Ideas, even in the crude
form in which they are here advanced, and those simple " reals "
of Herbart with which I have compared them and to which
they are on one side so closely akin, that Plato does throughout
assume that in some way or other there are between the simple
reals such threads of connection as are mirrored in the manifold
relations of sensible existence. His ideal world, even in the
first part of the Parmenides, is after all an ideal world, not a
1 135 B carries us still further. Here yews is expressly equated, not
merely with eiSos, but with avrij Kaff avrfjv ova-ia (fj.a6f"iv tos fort yevos TI
(K.CKTTOV Kal oiKTia avTrj ica$' avTr)v).
M. 21
314 A. E. TAYLOR:
chaos. For him there could be no such impossible task as that
which afterwards devolved on Herbart of shewing how what is
absolutely unconnected and independent of relations can yet
in actual fact modis pollentia miris come together and form
a basis for the world of related existence, while all the time
retaining its profound indifference to all outside itself. The
difficulty of seeing how the Idea can contain, over and above
its essentia, relations to other things, he obviously felt to be a
serious one, but it does not seem that this difficulty at any
time led him to doubt that there might be Ideas whose
essentia, though no doubt really one and indivisible, cannot
be stated without involving the use of relative terms. While,
for the benefit of believers in the special reality of organic
types, I will point out that the admission of relations
among Ideas follows directly and necessarily from the recogni-
tion of Ideas of organisms. If the Ideas were, like Herbart's
reals, confined to the manifestation of a single quality, they
might conceivably continue to flourish apart from any element
of relation: an avTo-dvdpwjros would however be quite unin-
telligible without both internal and external relations ; internal
relations, that is, between what Plato calls 181) ev rfj ^VXT),
and external relations to the ideal TroXt? " whose builder and
maker is God." Apart from these the first rudiments of
humanity would be unrepresented in the typical man. It is
indeed true that ultimately the recognition of any element of
relation in the Ideal world is incompatible with such a unity
free from all diversity as Socrates has theoretically proposed.
As we shall see however in connection with the second part of
the dialogue, this bland unity of monotonous sameness is in any
case doomed ; and it is by no means alien to the spirit of Plato
that the dialectic of Parmenides should do no more than expose
a contradiction which was already inherent in the first state-
ment of the doctrine. It should be noticed, moreover, that
Parmenides, by the form he gives to his argument, implicitly
admits that very presence in the Ideal world of relations which
is, according to one view, the mistake he intends to expose.
For, if there be no relations among the Ideas, it is certain that
our knowledge, which moves only between related points, cannot
live in such an atmosphere, and hence the inaccessibility of the
Ideas to our understanding, so far from being the alarming
paradox it is felt by both Socrates and Parmenides to be, is
a natural and obvious conclusion from the premisses. And
further note that this is no mere question between an adequate
and an inadequate knowledge of ultimate truth. From the
assumption of the transcendency of the Ideal world, whether
you admit relations into it or not, it follows at once that we,
ON THE INTERPRETATION OF PLATO'S PARMENIDES. 315
at least, are debarred from any knowledge, near or remote, of
its contents. It becomes an Unknowable of which we can
perhaps say that it is something or other and that it contains
an explanation of our difficulties about reality, if we could
only get at it, which we can't. And this being so, I should
say that the theory of a world of transcendent Ideas in which
relations have no place rrjv rou Sia\e<yeo-0ai 8vva/j,iv TravraTraa-c
Siatfrdepei quite as thoroughly as that of a transcendent world
+ relations. And it is some comfort to me to observe that
Parmenides himself at 134 B, c selects, as typical of those
realities the knowledge of which is on the Socratic theory
beyond our reach, two great Ideas, "the good" and "the
beautiful," the content of which can only be expressed (cf.
Philebus 65 A) in the form of systematic wholes of relation,
while, in the second part of the dialogue, we shall find him
expressly asserting the existence of two such shamelessly
relative Ideas as " greatness " and " smallness." (149 E OVKOVV
tcrrov ye rive TOVTCO eiSr), TO re /u.eye0o5 /cal 77 a- fiLKpoTrj^.} I
should infer then (a) that the world of Ideas in any case for
Plato contains relations of Ideas both internal and external ;
whether to admit relations of Ideas is also to admit Ideas of
relations is I think a merely technical question which does not
affect our general conception of the ideal world, (b) That the
polemic of Parmenides is directed not against the relativity but
against the " separation " of the ideal world, and thus that the
second half of his negative argument is based on the same
principle as the first the impossibility of finding the inmost
reality of the sensible world in a world of Ideas which is ex
hypothesi entirely outside and beyond it. The sole difference
of view, as far as I can see, between the two parts of the
argument is that in the second part the mere transcendence of
the Idea leads of itself to the refutation, while in the first part
the a/reOSo? lies in the assumed unity as well as transcendence
of the Idea.
The foregoing remarks have so fully indicated the view I
would support of c. 7 that I might almost be content to pass
without further delay to a final resume* of the position of things
which leads to the production of the hypotheses. I can how-
ever hardly refrain from calling attention to the peculiarly
cogent form in which the argument against the "transcendent"
Idea is presented in 134 c foil., the more so as the theological
and mythical language in which it is expressed might perhaps
for some modern readers obscure its full value. Rightly under-
stood it is, I think, unanswerable. Unpleasant as it is to admit
that the Idea, if it exists, is unknowable for us, it is at least
conceivable that such may be the case, and in certain moods we
212
316 A. E. TAYLOR:
may even derive a curious satisfaction from the admission.
Who, after all, are we, and what is our limited and partial know-
ledge, that we should even dream of some day holding in our
hands the key to existence ? But the dualism of the ideal and
the sensible wears another aspect when you see that it condemns
the absolute intelligence to the same defects as the human.
And yet this result is inevitable. If you can sever appearance
and reality and make two worlds of them, it is clear that for the
absolute understanding reality is and appearance is not. And
thus you get a world of appearance which somehow is and is
knowable, and yet falls inexplicably without the real as it
exists for a perfect intelligence. And this conclusion seems
hardly satisfactory; though, at the same time, it would be
hard for the advocates of "transcendence" to find any escape
from it.
We are now prepared to face the dilemma which the logic
of Parmenides has brought home to us. We have seen that
the -ideal theory as originally formulated will not work : the
Ideas cannot be brought into any intelligible connection with
the world of experience. The attempt to treat them as its
ground proved fatal to their own unity and independence, and
the search for truth in them has led to the conclusion that
truth is unattainable. Yet, by the admission of Parmenides
himself, without Ideas there can be no rational thinking.
Diversity devoid of any centre of unity is as unthinkable as
unity untainted by diversity. Where then are we to seek an
escape from the alternative impossibilities with which we have
been brought face to face ? Clearly in one direction. If there
can be no thinking either without the Ideas or with such Ideas
as we have been discussing, there must have been some original
defect in the theory as at first advanced. Our problem is then
to discover what point in the Socratic theory has been the
object of the polemic and to restate the doctrine freed from
this objectionable point. And it is just this that must be the
purpose of the Parmeuidean antinomies which we shall have
directly to consider if the dialogue is to have any internal
coherence. And so far we are in entire agreement with the
believers in the " paradeigmatic Idea" as to the link of con-
nection between the parts of the dialogue.
On one theory of Plato's meaning, indeed, this reading of
the dialogue would be incorrect. Since Stallbaum first pointed
out the existence of a Megaric influence in the Parmenides it
has been common to hold that the objections advanced in the
first part of the dialogue are not such as could have been
seriously intended by Plato himself, but are in all probability
urged from a Megarian stand-point. In that case the purpose
ON THE INTERPRETATION OF PLATO'S PARMENIDES. 317
of the antinomies will be, not to correct a crude Idealism, but
to refute the Megarian opponent indirectly, as Zeller says, by
shewing that the Megarian conception of the " One " leads to
equal or greater difficulties. Backed as this opinion is by the
authority of the most eminent of living students of Greek philo-
sophy (Zeller, Gesch. d. Gr. Ph. ed. 4, vol. 2. 1 pp. 259, 547, 548),
it seems to me impossible to accept it in its entirety, for the
following reasons :
(1) On this interpretation of the dialogue we must suppose
that the criticisms passed by Parmenides on the doctrine of
Ideas are criticisms the justice of which Plato does not admit,
and that the theory propounded in 128-129 is Plato's own.
But. if the estimate I have formed of Parmenides' arguments
is correct, his criticism is not only just but annihilating. That
Plato should have advanced such unanswerable objections to a
doctrine which he nevertheless believed at the very time he
was formulating them is to me quite incredible. It would
indeed be the most powerful argument against the authen-
ticity of the Parmenides if it could be shewn that the Idealism
of 128 foil, is the Idealism of Plato. I conclude then that the
views of Socrates at that place do not represent the doctrine
held by Plato himself, at least at the time the dialogue was
written.
(2) Again, if we suppose that the object of the antinomies
is merely to convict the Megaric school of absurdities as gross as
those which have, by Socrates' own confession, been brought home
to the Ideal theory, we seem to have a painfully lame and impotent
conclusion to the dialogue. On this view the second part would
be at best a tu quoque. Plato would have proved that the "One"
was as false a theory of reality as the Ideas but nothing more,
and no amount of obloquy cast on the "One" would in the least
degree rescue the Ideas from the discredit which had so de-
servedly overtaken them. Once more then, I conclude that the
argument of the dialogue compels us to seek the main purpose
of the second part not in the discrediting of the Megarian " One,"
though that may very well have been a secondary object with
Plato, as we shall see, but in the rehabilitation of the apparently
annihilated Ideal theory.
(3) I might further add, which I only do with some diffi-
dence, that if I am right in seeing in the supposed mere self-
identity of the Ideas one of Parmenides' chief points of attack,
it would be strange that this particular objection should have
been raised by the very school whom nearly all commentators
identify with the champions of the changeless and moveless
" forms " who are criticised in Sophistes 248 foil. (Zeller's
jemark that the Megarian doctrine of Parmenides is of a more
318 A. E. TAYLOR:
developed type than that there examined surely minimises the
difficulty).
(4) And, lastly, how is this view consistent with the part
played by Parmenides in the dialogue ? On this theory Par-
menides first criticises Platonism from the Megaric stand-point,
and we then get a rival criticism of Megarianism from the
Platonic stand-point also put into the mouth of Parmenides.
What then is Parmeuides' own position? If he is neither
Platonist nor Megarian, what is he ? Surely, if Plato had
had the object Apelt and Zeller suppose before him, the ex-
position of the weakness of Megarianism should have been
given to Socrates, not to the man who has appeared all through
Part 1, as a Megarian.
I shall make bold to offer a different theory of the connection
of the dialogue with Megarianism further on.
We are justified then, I believe, in assuming as we have
done that throughout the dialogue Plato is speaking as much
under the mask of Parmenides as under that of Socrates : that
the difficulties of the first part which appeared to us so insuper-
able are real difficulties : and in expecting that the remainder of
the dialogue will contain, if we only knew where to find it, some
indication of Plato's own answer to them. And in this con-
viction, which a consideration of the opposite view has served
to strengthen, we may now return to the question in the proper
answering of which we hope to find the clue which shall guide
us through the mazes of the labyrinth to which we are so soon
to be introduced. What is so ran our key question the
particular weakness in the Ideal theory of the young Socrates
against which the elaborate argumentation of ch. 4-8 was
directed ? And we have already answered the question in our
own way more than once. The whole of our analysis has gone
to shew that the cardinal error of Socrates lay in the sharp and
absolute severance between the Idea and the sensible world
with which he started, and in its logical result of taking unity
on the one hand as separable from diversity and multiplicity
on the other as divorced from unity. The same conclusion is
forced upon us by attention to the terms in which the Ideas are
spoken of. From the moment in which Socrates first formulates
his theory Parmenides takes the greatest pains to commit him
to two statements about the Ideas which place the inherent
dualism of this would-be monism in the clearest light. The
Ideas attacked are :
(1) vwpi?. %(0pl<> /J,ev elvai eiSt) avTd...%(opl<; Be rd
TOVTCOV av p.ere^ovra 130 B foil. avOpatirov e'So? ycopis rfp,u>v,
fydvai ical TOVTQJV sc. mud, hair etc., eicdo-Tov 61809
ON THE INTERPRETATION OF PLATO'S PARMENIDES. 319
(2) avra Kaff avrd. 130 B, 133 A, C, 135 B.
Of these two almost equivalent epithets we may perhaps say
that the first describes negatively and from the point of view of
the sensible thing what the second puts positively and from the
point of view of the Idea itself, the absolute severance between
the two worlds which is nevertheless not to interfere with the
dependence of the one on the other. It is and our analysis
must be the proof of this statement from this special feature
of the doctrine that all the difficulties with which Socrates
found it beyond his strength to cope are directly or indirectly
derived. The impossibility of knowing the Ideas was the
immediate consequence of their severance from our world of
sense-perception : the infinite regress and the other considera-
tions which were fatal to their very existence derive mediately
from the same source and fount of error through the inevitable
erection of the " separated >; Idea into a particular individual
thing or " case " by the side of the sense-particulars. We
conclude then, on the whole, as the moral of the first part of
our dialogue that, while there must exist " Ideas " as a perma-
nent and universal element in reality if thought is to do its
work, those Ideas cannot be " separate " or " self-contained," at
least in the sense in which those attributes have been under-
stood hitherto by Socrates. The thought-unities of which we
are in search cannot exist by the side of and unaffected by the
diversity and multiplicity of the sensible world. We are thus
driven to the conception of a unity which, so far from being
"apart from" diversity, can only exist and manifest itself in
diversity, as the only kind of unity by the aid of which we can
hope to understand the world as a single rational whole, and
our natural expectation therefore is that the remainder of the
dialogue will be concerned with the explanation and develop-
ment of some such conception. This natural expectation is, as
I hope to shew, fully justified by the sequel. At the same time,
it is clear that in thus conceiving of the problem before us we
are verbally at least directly controverting that theory which
makes the " transcendence," as opposed to the " immanence," of
the Idea the distinguishing mark of that later and maturer
Platonism towards which our dialogue is assumed to take the
initial step. From this point of view the source of all Socrates'
mistakes is not his belief that the Idea is apart from the world
of sense but his failure to carry that belief out consistently, and
the object which Parmenides has in view throughout is not to
confute an essentially erroneous opinion but to point out that
Socrates is inconsistently refusing to recognise the consequences
of a right one. It is not that he is too separatist but that he
is not separatist enough. The last vestige of the Idea's "in-
320 A. E. TAYLOR:
herence" must be swept away before it will be possible to
present an ideal theory which shall be consistent with itself.
Thus whereas we have taken the previous arguments as a proof
that the Idea cannot, strictly speaking, be %&>pt9, the newer
Cambridge Platonists understand them to demonstrate that it
cannot conceivably be anything but %a>pt9 ; and while we should
see in these chapters an anticipation of all that Aristotle has to
say about the impossibility of elBrj which are K^wpiafjieva or frapa
ra 7ro\\d they would find in them a doctrine the very reverse of
Aristotle's, which affirms that if ei&r) are to exist at all they not
only can be but must be all that Aristotle denies of them. I
have already indicated, partly by the general character of my
analysis and partly by my criticisms on the " paradeigmatic "
Idea, the reasons for my dissent from this account of the matter,
and it will appear still more clearly in the analysis of the anti-
nomies how diametrically opposed is this interpretation of the
dialogue to the line of thought which, to my mind, alone consti-
tutes the connection between the two parts of the work. Hence
I do not propose to do more here than to make one or two
remarks of a very general character on the question of " tran-
scendence" as against "immanence." Of course no one will deny
that Plato's Ideas are frequently spoken of as if they were in
some sense or other "separate" from the sensible world and
" self-contained " or " independent." It was inevitable that
such language should be used about the Ideas, and it has a
very definite meaning of its own. Against the current sen-
sationalism of popular metaphysics Plato, in approaching the
problem of significant predication, was compelled to insist that
a thing might be incapable of being the object of a sense-
perception and yet for all that be real, and that the merely
particular, apart from universals which give it all its content,
has no being at all. And such lines of thought find their
natural expression in language in which stress is laid on the
distinction between the universal which is cognised by thought
alone and the particular of sense-perception, and the contrast
between the perishability and instability of the one and the
permanent and fixed character of the other. It is a natural
result of such expressions that Plato's Ideas should appear to
the incurious reader to be often elevated into a second and inde-
pendent world by themselves, and in denying the "transcendence"
of the ideas I neither imply that such language is not common
in Plato nor deny that it represents one element in his thought.
What I do deny is that the " transcendent " character of the
Idea is here or anywhere taught in such a sense as to be incom-
patible with its " inherence " in some way in the world of
particulars. To make the Idea "transcendent" in this sense
ON THE INTERPRETATION OF PLATO'S PARMENIDES. 321
is, in fact, to deny in toto its applicability to the problems of
the actual world. For so long as it is admitted that the Idea
is in some way or other either the ground or the truth of the
facts of sense (and to deny this is to renounce Plato and all his
works), you have asserted such a connection between the two as
is meant by "inherence" and there is no reason why you should
be afraid of the harmless word. Unless indeed the metaphor
conveys to your mind some astounding spatial implication, as of
the local presence of Idea to thing, or God knows what besides.
And it is hardly true as a matter of fact that the phrases which
dwell on the " transcendent " aspect of the Idea are exclusively
or even prominently derived from that group of dialogues which
this hypothesis regards as dating from Plato's latest period.
All that is said e.g. in the Timaeus about the distinction between
the perishable world of becoming and the stable world of ever-
lasting being, the one apprehensible by sense, the other manifest
only to reason, is familiar to us not to mention other sources
from the Republic. Republic 5-7 may indeed be said to be almost
the locus classicus for this side of Plato's views, and anyone who
has ever taught Plato to beginners must be aware that it is just
this apparent dualism and " transcendence " of the Ideas which
proves the universal stumbling-block in the way of a true under-
standing of Platonic speculation. On the other hand, if the
" transcendence " of the Ideas be supposed to exclude " partici-
pation" in them on the part of things, it is hard to interpret
either the Sophistes or the Timaeus without having recourse to
the most strained and arbitrary methods of exegesis. Thus
Mr Archer-Hind is driven in the interests of his theory to
maintain in the very teeth both of Plato's consistent usage and
express statement that the five great yevij of the former dialogue
are not Ideas 1 , and, in his commentary on the important 18th
chapter of the latter (see Tim. 50 D a/Mop^ov bv eiceivwv aTracrwv
rwv ISefov oaras /leXXot Be^ea-dai iroOev), to advocate a distinction
1 Contrast Soph. 254 C p.f] nepl iravrutv ru>v t i8t3i>...aAXa TrpofAo/xevoi rwi/
HcyivTcw \tyofjifi><i>v arra, 255 C rtraprov Si) irpos ToTj rpio-lv (*8fartv ti8os TO
ravrov Tidaptv, D 7rfj.nrov 8f) rrjv Oaripov <j)v<riv \fKTfov tv rots f*8riv ov&av,
E fiia TO ptTixfiv TTJS iStas rrjs dartpov, 256E Trtpl tKacrrov apa TU>V fi8<ov
iro\v ptv fan TO ov, 258 c <rri pf) ov...tl8os ev etc., not to add countless
similar passages from the Philebus, Politicus, and Timaeus, of which I will
merely indicate three : Phil. 23 c, D, Polit. 285 B, c, Tim. 50 E. But that the
equivalence of d8os and ytvos in Plato is so well established already it
would be easy to make the list ten times as long. Of /*c'&tr in the
Sophistes I have already given two examples. One might add 255 B
p.(T(\(TOV - TUVTOV KO.I ddTtpOV, 256 D TOV OVTOS (KTtXd, 256 E fJitTf\(l TOV
UVTOS, 259 A TO fjitv (Tfpov p.fTacr\ov TOV OITOJ eori 8ia ravrr)v TTJV fi.f6({;iv. I
can detect no difference in principle between the use of p,(6fts in these
passages and that with which we are familiar from the supposed 'earlier'
dialogues.
322 A. E. TAYLOR:
for which Plato's language affords not the shadow of a ground
between ISeai which are Ideas (avra tad* avra eiStj) and ISeai
which are not. But a theory which can only be defended by
such feats of interpretation as these stands self-convicted. So
that I think the probabilities are all in favour of our own and
against the Cambridge view on this question of "transcendence."
And if anybody still feels uneasy in the matter I should recom-
mend him to ask himself seriously (it is more than most persons
who use these unhappy phrases do) what " transcendence " and
"immanence" may mean, and whether either is ultimately
intelligible apart from the other. In my own mind I have
no doubt that an honest examination into this point can have
only one result.
If we still entertained any doubts as to the general correct-
ness of our conception of the fore-going argument they should
be removed by a little attention to the following speech of
Parmenides, 135 c-E. He first of all indicates the mental
defect which has been the cause of Socrates' failure. Socrates
is still young, and his enthusiasm for certain great philosophical
principles has made a hasty attempt to construct a system of
Idealism without having previously gone through the necessary
if barren and arid discipline of exact and detailed metaphysical
thinking. (A fault we may observe in passing which is suf-
ficiently prevalent in our own day among young philosophers,
and even among some who can no longer be called young.)
Before proceeding to explain the nature of the preliminary
training however Parmenides repeats with emphatic approval
the remark of Socrates which had led to the whole discussion
that the puzzles and paradoxes of unity and multiplicity ought
to be investigated not in the world of sense-perception but
in the world of Ideal Forms itself (135 E). To the emphatic
reiteration of this general principle at the most critical point of
the discussion it is I think impossible to attach too much
importance. For unless I am much mistaken it is intended
to supply the necessary key without which the hypotheses
which are to follow would be mere enigmas. For what is the
position of the argument at the present moment ? The Ideal
theory originally put forward has been found wanting, and
wanting in this very point. Its weaknesses were all due to
its refusal to admit into the Ideal world that diversity and
intercommunicability which it was prepared to recognise as
far as the world of sense was concerned : it was this that led
to that unhappy dualism which placed the unity in one world
and the diversity in another, and so made both in the end
impossible. The problem before us, on the break -down of this
premature Idealism, was to reconcile the existence of the Ideas
ON THE INTERPRETATION OF PLATO'S PARMENIDES. 323
with their relation to the sensible world, and we could already
see that this was only possible in one direction, viz., if we can
shew that in the world of thought itself unity, so far from being
destroyed by being brought into relation with diversity, is only
possible in and through a diversity which arises out of its own
inmost nature : and this was the very problem which Socrates
had originally pronounced all but insoluble. The echo of that
remark at the present crisis can hardly be anything but a hint
ffvi>Toi<Ti, that it is this arduous problem (which is as we have
seen the first task of a sound metaphysic) which Parmenides
means to illustrate, and perhaps to solve. To exhibit unity and
diversity in their most abstract and general form as only possible
by means of one another, such is, in the baldest language, the
necessary propaedeutic to a true understanding of the world as
a whole, and such unless I mistake is the purpose of the anti-
nomies of Plato's Parmenides. How far this conception of a
world which is a systematic unity emerges clear and consistent
from the mists of apparent paradox and confusion will only be
visible after a painstaking examination, on which I propose
presently to enter, of the details of the nine successive hypo-
theses, but I think we may at starting say as much as this, that
if by the aid of our general theory we succeed so far as to get
even a tolerably coherent doctrine out of the tangle our hypo-
thesis will have accomplished more than any which has hitherto
been proposed. And I should now prefer to enter at once on
the main undertaking avv dyaOrj rv^rj, but I feel that it will be
better, in order to prevent possible misconceptions, to preface
the second part of my paper with some general reflections
on (1) the position in the Platonic system, (2) the method.
(3) the contents of the bewildering hypotheses we have set
out to explain.
(1) Plato himself cautions us against setting too high a
value on the antinomies of Parmenides. He is careful to explain
that he looks upon them as a mere yvfAvavia, an exercise which,
with all its difficulty, is only preparatory to the real work of
philosophy. We should make an even graver mistake if we
took the Parmenides for the complete system of Platonism
than is commonly made by those who judge the philosophy of
Hegel exclusively by his Logic. The purpose of the Parmenides,
as we have seen reason to believe, is to explain and establish
the extremely abstract conception of the world as a system
which is the outgrowth of a single principle, and thus to
reconcile its unity with its diversity. Important and essential
as this task is, it is however merely introductory to the real
work of the philosopher. Philosophy is not complete until the
conception of the world as abstract system has been made con-
324 A. E. TAYLOR :
crete by a full examination of the actual contents of the world-
system and an attempt to arrange them in their order of value.
Thus the Republic and the other great dialogues which deal on
a metaphysical basis with the concrete facts of human life are
to the Platonic Parmenides much as the Phdnomenologie des
Geistes, the Aesthetik, and the Philosophic der Religion, etc., to
revert to our Hegelian parallel, are to the Wissenschaft der
Logik. For Plato even more than for ourselves abstract meta-
physics was the mere skeleton of a philosophy : to convert the
bare bones into the living body you must add not merely a
comprehensive grasp of the great concrete phenomena of art
and morals, but even a wide personal experience of practical
affairs. Philosophy was to gain at least as much as politics
from the union of the statesman and the philosopher in one
person. And the goal of all speculation was to be the vision
of Reality not as a mere system but in its concrete fulness and
beauty as the Supreme Good. These considerations, as it seems
to me, are not without their bearing on the vexed question of
the relative date of our dialogue. In all the greatest works
which undoubtedly belong to Plato's maturity and age, the
Republic, the Politicus, and even, according to its full design,
the trilogy of which the Timaeus is the first part, the meta-
physical speculation appears as the mere back-ground and basis
for a profound and far-reaching treatment of the more concrete
problems of ethics and politics. Not one of these three great
works can be described as exclusively, and the first two not even
as mainly, occupied with questions of metaphysics as such. And
hence it is, I think, at least unlikely that the mere abstract logic
of the Parmenides should be the product of the same period of
philosophic activity as the dialogues above named. Even in the
less certainly late Sophistes which comes nearest in tone to the
Parmenides there is a secondary ethical interest which is com-
pletely absent from the present work. This suggestion I make
however simply for what it is worth.
(2) There is nothing particularly novel about the method
which Parmenides employs in the construction of his anti-
nomies. Its general principle as stated by him at 135 E 136 A
amounts to no more than this, that before affirming a doctrine
you should carefully work out in as much detail as you can the
various results which follow whether from its affirmation or
from its denial. And so stated the method would seem to be
little more than an obvious application of common sense. The
difference is that Parmenides proposes to do consciously and
systematically what common sense only effects unconsciously
and by fits and starts. The undertaking is a modest one but
perhaps it is all that any metaphysic can hope to achieve. My
ON THE INTERPRETATION OF PLATO'S PARMEXIDES. 325
main interest in making this remark is however to point out
that we have not in the Parmenides, any more than anywhere
else in Plato, anything in the least degree like the Hegelian
dialectic. There is no conception anywhere in the dialogue of
a special connection between metaphysical speculation and a
particular method ; no systematic presentation of a series of
categories as evolved from one another by the stress of an
internal necessity. The conclusions laid down are reached by
ordinary syllogistic methods from premisses which are supplied
at the free will of the speaker. Judged by Hegelian standards
many of the processes and the results of this dialectic are what
Hegel himself calls them, "purely external 1 ." So far as the
method employed presents any marked resemblance to any
modern philosophic method rather than another, it is not of
Hegel's Dialectic but of Herbart's Method of Relations, the
essence of which consists in correcting an unqualified assertion
by a specification of the conditions under which it holds good,
that we are reminded. On this point I shall have something
further to say when I come to discuss the third of Parmenides'
hypotheses.
(3) We must take care not to let the name "antinomy" as
applied to the reasonings of the Parmenides mislead us by its
natural association with the procedure of Kant in the Tran-
scendental Dialectic. The methods of Kant and of Plato have
indeed no further resemblance than the merely superficial one
that both proceed in the form of an antithesis. The Kantian
antithesis however consists of a parallel proof and disproof of the
same proposition : the Platonic of the derivation of contradictory
results from what is to all appearance one and the same premiss.
Hence the final goal of the one is to demonstrate the equal vali-
dity or invalidity, as the case may be, of both thesis and antithesis ;
that of the other, as it is at least natural to suppose, is to establish
one interpretation of the common premiss as against the other.
The principle involved is simply that of two rival interpreta-
tions of the unity of reality, that is false which leads to the
denial of the possibility of knowledge and predication, that true
which renders both possible. We have, in Herbartian language,
to find out the relations and conditions in which a proposition,
which, taken by itself, seems false, becomes both significant and
true. A less likely misunderstanding would be to suppose that
the true explanation of the phenomenon of contradictory con-
clusions following from the same premisses is to be found in
the purely sophistical character of the inferences by which
1 Hegel, Werke in. 102, xiv. 246. For Hegel's estimate of the dialogue
see also vi. 154, xni. 104, xiv. 240 ff.
326 A. E. TAYLOR: ON PLATO'S PARMENIDES.
Plato arrives at his results. Such a view of the case is indeed
effectually disproved by even a superficial examination of the
course of the argument. It is only of one or two steps in the
argumentation at the most that we can say that they contain
anything like conscious sophistry, and even at these points,
whatever may be our misgivings about the validity of the
inference, we seem for the most part to detect a serious
significance about the conclusions thus reached which forbids
us to treat them as mere pieces of verbal ingenuity. Hence I
shall assume in my analysis that Plato is almost everywhere
serious in his inferences, and that we are intended to gather
from the intolerable contradiction between the conclusions of
one hypothesis and those of another which is nominally the
same some fundamental and all-important difference in the
interpretation of first principles.
II. ETHICS FROM A PURELY PRACTICAL
STANDPOINT.
BY MRS BAIN.
WHEN I speak of Ethics being regarded from a purely practical
standpoint, I mean not merely as affording guidance for private
conduct, but also, and very especially, as the motive power in
the hands of the moral teacher who, we must presume, is
striving to do at least something towards producing a
moralizing effect. Further, I intend to consider shortly Ethics
as underlying politics.
Viewed with reference to help obtainable for private conduct
and for advice to others, I adhere to the opinion that the
method of hedonism, "the direct estimation of pleasure and
pain " or " the calculation of the felicific and infelicific conse-
quences of actions" call it which you will is much more
reliable than any substitute that has been, or indeed could be
suggested, and, moreover, that it is the only method we may
expect to prove in any degree effective when made use of by
the moral teacher.
Here I may explain that I am considering solely secular
Ethics, or ethical teaching apart from the questions of reward
and punishment after death, put forward respectively as in-
ducement and deterrent. And I am thinking less of the moral
teacher as represented by the clergyman of the present day
than of future instructors on points of conduct. Whatever may
be said as regards a so-called " religion of the future," I trust,
as Mr Spencer predicts, that there may continue to exist in the
time to come, teachers, preachers, or lecturers, or "one who
stands in the place of a minister " (I quote from Mr Spencer's
Ecclesiastical Institutions) who will descant on the right and
wrong, or relatively right and wrong in conduct. I may add
that those performing this function ought certainly to be, now
and always, exceptionally able and highly instructed.
Before commencing to give a brief review of certain ethical
theories and methods from the two standpoints already referred
328 MRS BAIN:
to, I wish to comment on what has been said by Prof. Sidgwick
and Mr Spencer concerning the difficulties of hedonic calcula-
tion. I do not pretend to give an elaborate or exhaustive
criticism of these or any other topics. To do so would be
impossible, having regard to the number of points to which I
wish to refer, and the limits of my paper which can only claim
to be an ethical sketch.
Like most, if not all other utilitarians, I fully admit the
debt of gratitude we owe to Prof. Sidgwick for the support he
has rendered to our common cause. On the other hand, seeing
that our opponents are ready to make the most of weak points
in our armour, it appears to me a matter for regret that he
should have so strongly, emphasized the difficulties of hedonic
calculation in his Methods of Ethics. I shall give a few
instances where, in my opinion, he has over-estimated possible
sources of error.
Admitting that different kinds of pleasures and pains are
not equally recoverable in idea, I do not agree with him when
he says, speaking of " past hardships, toils and anxieties," that
they " often appear pleasurable when we look back upon them
after some interval," and that it is "the heightened sense of
life," accompanying " the painful struggle," that " we recall
rather than the pain." In my view, unless our past painful
experiences have been of a very feeble kind and have left no
distinct impress on the mind in which case, they could not
fairly be called hardships or toils they are not present to our
recollection as pleasurable, but decidedly the reverse. At least
we can say that the recollection we have of them is sufficiently
unpleasant to sound an unmistakable note of warning for present
guidance.
Again, with regard to pleasures, while, as Prof. Sidgwick
remarks, we are unable to "represent to ourselves as very
intense" "the pleasures of intellectual or bodily exercise at
the close of a wearying day," most of us, I should say, are to a
certain extent aware of the temporary effect of our exhausted
condition ; while some may be called almost wholly alive to it,
and to the fact that with renewed vigour, the idea of the
pleasures will become far more attractive. In any case, I
believe that all such temporary exhaustion cannot be held to
have a material influence in falsifying our hedonic estimate.
Also, while we may not, in a state of "perfect tranquillity,"
estimate adequately pleasures that have been heightened by
"precedent desire, enthusiasm and excitement," having ex-
perienced the pleasures as affected by these conditions, it is
thus that we remember them not with the conditions
awanting. And we come to realize, in a great measure,
ETHICS FROM A PURELY PRACTICAL STANDPOINT. 329
what pleasures are likely to arouse in us feelings calculated
to intensify our enjoyable experience.
To summarize further sources of error mentioned by
Mr Sidgwick: there is "the frequent occurrence of moods
in which we have an apparent bias for or against a particular
kind of feeling " in arguing from the past to the future, there
are changes in our constitutions altering our susceptibilities,
and altered conditions of life and years added to our existence
modifying or killing old desires and aversions, and generating
new ones. To the first of these difficulties we may, at least,
add a qualifying remark of a kind very similar to that already
stated in connection with the preceding examples. We may
reply that, at any rate, the more reflective amongst us do take
into account, more or less, the bias of particular moods. No
doubt, as Prof. Sidgwick observes, the hedonistic calculations of
youth require modification as we advance in years ; still, even
in youth, and more and more in later periods of life, we can
recognise how our feelings are affected by changes in our
constitution, altered conditions of life, and the experiences of
added years ; and we become alive probably to a greater or
less extent according to our mental capacity to the possibility
of further emotional change, in the future, generated in like
manner. Even the less reflective, while they may be almost if
not wholly unaccustomed to make allowance for the bias of
their different moods, cannot fail to be, in some degree,
cognisant of their altered feelings under the loss or recovery
of health, new conditions of life and a longer period of existence;
and they must have, at least, some vague idea that the causes
which have thus operated in the past will not remain inopera-
tive in the future. In making calculations with regard to our
future lives, we certainly cannot have any distinct idea of how
far our feelings may come to be altered; but, on the other
hand, we are not unaware that a certain change may be
expected, and not infrequently we can foresee circumstances
which, we know, must inevitably influence our sensibilities.
In not a few cases, however, beyond later youth, there can
scarcely be said to be any pronounced change of feeling.
Moreover, those of us who are habituated to self-examination
and thoroughly versed in our own peculiarities may even
anticipate, to a large extent, how we shall be affected by an
entirely new set of circumstances.
But all this refers to what Mr Sidgwick, I understand, was
the first to call egoistic hedonism ; and it is with universalistic
hedonism to use his contrasting phrase that we are mainly
concerned. For my own part, I consider, as has been elsewhere
maintained, and indeed is admitted by Prof. Sidgwick himself,
M. 22
330 MRS BAIN :
that our hedonic calculation is very rarely, if ever, purely
self-regarding. Consequently I hold that we are not justified
in asserting that there is a distinct egoistic hedonism. But
setting aside this point in the meantime, let us look to what
Mr Spencer argues, in the Data of Ethics, with reference to
the difficulties of universalistic hedonism.
" If," he says, " the dictates of universal hedonism are to be
fulfilled, it must be under the guidance of individual judgments,
or of corporate judgments, or of both. Now any one of such
judgments, issuing from a single mind, or from any aggregate
of minds, necessarily embodies conclusions respecting the
happiness of other persons few of them known and the great
mass never seen. All these persons have natures differing in
countless ways and degrees from the natures of those who form
the judgments ; and the happinesses of which they are severally
capable differ from one another, and differ from the happinesses
of those who form the judgments." Again, " making general
happiness the immediate object of pursuit implies numerous
and complicated personalities, officered by thousands of unseen
and unlike persons, and working on millions of other persons
unseen and unlike. Even the few factors in this immense
aggregate of appliances and processes which are known are
very imperfectly known, and the great mass of them are
unknown."
In the first place, as Dr Bain and others have contended,
we have to recollect that, in making ethical calculations in
respect of general happiness, we are not required to go into
those minute details which the individual has to consider in
determining his own daily and hourly conduct : it is not every
action, but general lines of conduct we have to take into
account. Further, the thoughtful moralist is alive to the
main disparities in human nature, the leading character-effects
resulting from the diverse circumstances of life, and the changed
aspect which things assume at different periods of our existence.
And being thus cognisant, he will make wide allowances
accordingly.
In an article in Mind, in 1883, in which he reviewed
Mr Leslie Stephen's Science of Ethics, Dr Bain, after alluding
to Mr Sidgwick's rendering of the difficulties of hedonic
calculation, concludes as follows : " In affirming the impossi-
bility of a Hedonistic Science, the fact is overlooked that
science has many degrees. The termination of the human
race will not see a science of Pleasure and Pain made as
definite as the sciences of Heat and Chemistry; but we may
conceivably improve upon the crude statements of the un-
scientific multitude, and every such improvement is so much
ETHICS FROM A PURELY PRACTICAL STANDPOINT. 331
science." In my opinion, an ethical teacher of the type I have
suggested, a man of special ability and training, a scientific
student of the facts and laws of the mind, could conceivably
improve greatly on the crude statements and ideas of the
multitude.
While I consider that both Mr Sidgwick and Mr Spencer
have insufficiently qualified their arguments, I quite admit that
the diversities in character and the vast complexity of human
life will continue to render hedonic calculation a matter of
much difficulty, and no small uncertainty. On the other hand,
and above and beyond all this, there still remains the fact that
we have no rival ethical road which leads to more trustworthy
conclusions ; but distinctly the reverse.
In endeavouring to substantiate the foregoing conclusion, I
must, of necessity, go over ground already traversed again and
again ; but I shall try to condense as much as possible, and to
confine myself to the ethical systems and solutions that have
come to the front in more recent years. And I believe I may
lay claim to a certain amount of originality in examining the
alternative theories and methods, not from one standpoint only,
but with two clearly defined and practical aims in view, i.e.
the greatest accuracy practicable, and the largest amount of
influence likely to be effected when the ethics is made use of
by the moral teacher.
I speak of considering theories as well as methods for the
reason that the first ethical theory to which I have to refer, as
held and represented by its adherents generally, cannot be said
to provide any method at all. I allude to the self-realization
theory.
That this would-be solution of the ethical problem was no
solution whatsoever, has always appeared to me so manifestly
patent that I have never been able to understand how clear-
minded students could possibly regard it in any other light.
Let us look first to what is said by Prof. Edward Caird in
his little book on Hegel, in the Blackwood Philosophical Series.
Here he talks as if self-realization were synonymous with self-
abnegation (which, indeed, may be inferred from Hegel's own
pronouncement). But if, in order to realize self, we have to
abnegate self, surely this is something like a contradiction
in terms, besides being a practical impossibility. From the
general tenor of Prof. Caird's remarks, we may suppose, how-
ever, that the self-abnegation is not complete abnegation ;
although whether it means self-sacrifice carried to the utmost
extent possible, is not easy to determine. If it is merely
meant that we should suppress egoistic desires distinctly op-
posed to the general wellbeing, this is only what utilitarianism
222
332 MRS BAIN:
enjoins, and would be approved of by all schools of moralists.
But judging from the defensive attitude which Prof. Caird
assumes in alluding to asceticism, and his references to the
renunciation or death of the natural self, we may conclude
that the self-abnegation is to be carried much further. If so,
as Mr Spencer shows, in his famous and admirable treatment
of Egoism and Altruism in the Data of Ethics, such abnegation
is highly injurious to self, and also operates very injuriously
upon others.
Further, we may infer, from somewhat rhapsodizing and
obscure passages by various writers, that self-realization means
the striving to attain to perfection. Here, again, we are asked
to attain to the unattainable. We may presume, however, that
what is meant to be understood is to strive in the direction of
perfection. Well, as a utilitarian I must necessarily hold that
perfection is only definable in terms of happiness: in its
subjective form, the sum of the qualities which, when called
into play, are most conducive to the general wellbeing or
happiness; and in its objective form, conduct most conducive
to the general happiness. After remarking that "conducive-
ness to happiness is the ultimate test of perfection in a man's
nature," Mr Spencer justly argues : " To be fully convinced of
this, it needs but to observe how the proposition looks when
inverted. It needs but to suppose that every approach towards
perfection involved greater misery to self, or others, or both,
to show by opposition that approach to perfection really
means approach to that which secures greater happiness."
To attempt to go into the arguments advanced by those
later moralists who define perfection in other than terms of
happiness would mean to exceed the limits of this article. For
the present, I must confine myself to the bare assertion that I
regard them as palpably untenable. If, then, we are to
conclude that striving towards perfection is merely another
rendering of the utilitarian end, we have not advanced a single
step further. Not only so; we have to return to a rendering
less intelligible, and thus more apt to create confusion of mind.
In connection with this last consideration, and taking into
account recent tendencies in ethical discussion, I have to add
that it has now become a primary necessity in ethics to adopt,
as much as possible, clear, readily comprehended language.
Two other meanings extricable from the mists of Neo-
Kantian and Neo-Hegelian phraseology are the following:
that to realize the rational self is to do what is reasonable and
right, and to realize the social self is to have regard for the
claims of others. But if the self-realization formula cannot be
held to afford us any further enlightenment than this, we have
ETHICS FROM A PURELY PRACTICAL STANDPOINT. 333
here simply an example of arguing in a circle. It is almost
superfluous to add we have always known that we ought to do
what is reasonable and right and to have regard for the claims
of others ; the questions we seek to answer, or rather to answer
as far as possible being : what is reasonable and right in the
multitudinous circumstances of life, and what in those same
circumstances are the just claims of others, as compared with
the just claims of self?
A propos of the claims of others, it is possible to infer from
the language of the self-realization school which rarely, if
ever, admits of clear inference that what is being advocated
is, that we should do as much for others as we do for ourselves.
If so, like the incitement to the utmost self-sacrifice possible,
this means the teaching of an undue and irrational altruism.
As Mr Spencer puts it, we " must work first for self, and then
for others."
But these last remarks are in a measure digressive. To
return to the paragraph immediately preceding. Here I have
said in effect that the mere rendering in different phrases of
two abstract principles, always and universally conceded (i.e. if
realizing the social self means due and not undue regard for
others) but which have no specific meaning, inasmuch that they
afford no clue as to what is reasonable and right under the
circumstances of the case in point whatever that may be and
what are the claims of others in any particular instance,
certainly does not supply us with any workable ethical method.
Mr Muirhead, another adherent of the school under review,
defines the realizing of the self as " loyalty to the duties of the
good parent and honest citizen." But what, in the first place,
constitutes the good parent ? How much controversy have we
had, for example, as to how far parental responsibility should
be carried, what duties may and may not be relegated to nurse
and to teacher, how the child should be trained morally,
mentally, and physically, what the parent ought and ought
not to do for him in his more mature years. Again, when we
turn to the duties of citizenship we open up an endless field of
disputation. In the phrase above quoted we have simply another
example of loose expression, affording no tangible help what-
soever. Mr Muirhead, however, seems to be, at least so far
aware of the nakedness of the land, for he gives us a certain
amount of additional guidance in his Elements of Ethics
that may possibly be construed into something like a method.
Following the example of Mr Leslie Stephen when he tells us
in his Science of Ethics that what is required, or desired
of us is to be strong, to be brave, to be temperate etc.,
Mr Muirhead tabulates the virtues we ought to cultivate.
334 MRS BAIN :
But this, or indeed any conceivable list of virtues cannot, in
itself, supply us with reliable or adequate guidance. As nearly
all our ethical writers have admitted, the virtues are not to be
accepted without considerable reservation (for my own part I
should say much reservation). For instance, it is repeating an
ethical commonplace to say that a strict adherence to truth
may, in a number of cases, lead to ultimate decrease of the sum
of happiness. Then suppose we are told to act in accordance
with justice. What is just under one set of circumstances is
not just under other circumstances; while, as we have all had
ample occasion to realize, men's notions of justice, even under
like circumstances, differ immensely. Further, we can have no
hard and fast rules concerning, say temperance and courage,
which are not liable to modification, according to the particular
circumstances of the case, the facts of individual temperament,
relative strength and weakness, sex etc. And as to filial piety
and patriotism (included among Mr Muirhead's moral virtues)
there is as widespread confusion of mind with regard to filial as
to parental duties ; while patriotism not unusually means
undue laudation of ourselves, and regard for our own interests
at the expense of those of other nations.
Then let us turn for a moment to the standpoint of
probable influence in moral teaching. The bare injunction by
teachers of morality to conform to the virtues, with no attempt
to point out the consequences of actions, could not possibly
have any material effect upon their hearers. But to that I
shall advert later on.
Mr Spencer's Ethics next claims our attention. Before
proceeding to criticize shortly the method, or rather methods
which he advocates as a substitute for direct hedonic cal-
culation, I wish to make a few references to his ethics as a
whole. In the midst of so much ethical writing which is
vague, obscure and with little or no practical outcome,
Mr Spencer's Ethics is always to me in the highest degree
interesting and refreshing. In reading it we perceive that we
are to encounter no pandering to received views : here we have
the thoughts of a fearless thinker, fearlessly uttered. But
much more than this can be said of Mr Spencer's ethical work.
While I consider that the same conclusions could have been
arrived at. irrespective of the teachings of Biology, this does not
alter the fact that by his wider ethical calculation in particular,
but also by a number of his minor estimates, he has rendered
most valuable service to his subject. I have already alluded,
more than once, to the masterly fashion in which he has struck
the balance between the claims of others as a whole, and the
claims of self as a whole. But, I may add, that the value of
ETHICS FROM A PURELY PRACTICAL STANDPOINT. 335
this is in great measure due to its being a salutary antidote to
altruistic sentimentality a sentimentality which so many have
either pretended to believe, or have honestly thought they
believed, but which has never been carried into practice
unless perhaps to a very partial extent by the Positivists : the
complete practice of it being, indeed, an impossibility under
the existing conditions of life. Again, Mr Spencer more, I may
say far more than any other moralist insists on the taking care
to preserve health being a primary moral obligation ; and that
the knowing or preventable disregard of it must be held highly
culpable. And that too, for example, if a man has overworked
himself to obtain increased comforts for wife or children, or
others endeared to him : the goodness of his motives does not
prevent the consequences of his death or breakdown in health
being much more injurious to those connected with him than
the want of the comforts that have necessitated his undue
exertion. Then Mr Spencer among moralists may be called
the most thoroughgoing exponent and defender of the warrant
which ethics gives in favour of reasonably estimated pleasures,
not of course taken to excess, as opposed to ascetic abstinence.
Once more, and to summarize, Mr Spencer furnishes us with a
number of very useful suggestions in his Ethics of Individual
Life, his Justice and what he says with regard to the exercise in
different directions of a " rational beneficence " (" negative and
positive ") and the avoidance of an irrational beneficence i.e. a
beneficence that, in the long run, is more hurtful than beneficial.
Of the last of these suggestions or conclusions Mr Spencer
says, in the preface to his latest volume on ethics, that "the most
of them are such as right feelings, enlightened by cultivated in-
telligence, have already sufficed to establish." To this I demur.
A certain small proportion of them may be said to be somewhat
doubtful ; but, as to the greater number, while they may have
been, for the most part, apparent to the reflective few, so long
as they are not more widely perceived, they cannot fairly be
held to have been established. Indeed, the mere fact that
Mr Spencer considers it expedient to publish them is, in itself,
highly presumptive evidence in this direction. A certain critic,
Prof. Mackenzie I believe, stigmatizes them as commonplaces ;
but this stricture I regard as undeserved.
Now to turn to the methods which Mr Spencer argues
should take the place of a direct estimation of pleasure and
pain. For our conduct towards others, excepting that section
of it which would come under the designation beneficence, he
proposes to substitute justice for happiness as the immediate
aim of action, " the maintenance of equitable relations between
men being the condition to attainment of greatest happiness
336 MRS BAIN :
in all societies." Subsequently however, he says : " it is
impossible during stages of transition which necessitate ever-
changing compromises to fulfil the dictates of absolute equity ;
and nothing beyond empirical judgments can be formed of the
extent to which they may, at any given time, be fulfilled."
Taking into account all that is involved in these empirical
judgments, Mr Spencer's own charge of " indefmiteness," brought
against hedonic calculation, can be used with much force against
the compromises to which he refers. Moreover, these empirical
judgments must themselves be formed simply by a direct
estimation of relative pleasure and pain.
That we are warranted in applying the objection of indefi-
niteness to Mr Spencer's system becomes still more apparent
when we look at what he says regarding conduct as a whole.
He holds that in order to ascertain what is right in our present
stage of moral evolution, or what is relatively right, we have to
settle again to settle in a rough empirical manner how far
" ideal ethical truths expressing the absolutely right " or " that
which produces pleasure unalloyed with pain " and suitable to
an ultimate social state or "completely evolved society" is
applicable to human beings existing at the present time. But
it is only to a very limited extent that Mr Spencer himself
points the way to an ideal and ultimate morality; and
according to this plan, we should have to encounter all the
difficulties involved in formulating the details of the absolute
ethics, along with the uncertainty of decisions on the nearest
approximations suited to the time when the formulation is
taking place, and its more immediate future. Further, Mr
Spencer has to reckon with the contention (Prof. Sidg wick's I
think) which, in my view, is a perfectly just one that we
cannot have such certainty, that the sociological evidence does
not warrant us in having such certainty with regard to an
ultimate social state that we could frame a conception of
human conduct as carried on in that state, or a code of
morality applicable to it.
Shifting our consideration to what influence may be pro-
duced in moral teaching, let us look to a certain well-known
passage in one of the earlier chapters of the Data of Ethics.
" The truly moral deterrent from murder," writes Mr Spencer,
" is not constituted by a representation of hanging as a conse-
quence, or by a representation of tortures in hell as a consequence,
or by a representation of the horror and hatred excited in fellow
men ; but by a representation of the necessary natural results
the infliction of death-agony on the victim, the destruction of
all his possibilities of happiness, the entailed sufferings to his
belongings. Neither the thought of punishment, nor of divine
ETHICS FROM A PURELY PRACTICAL STANDPOINT. 337
anger, nor of social disgrace, is that which constitutes the
moral check on theft ; but the thought of injury to the person
robbed, joined with a vague consciousness of the general evils
caused by disregard of proprietary rights. Those who reprobate
the adulterer on moral grounds, have their minds filled, not
with ideas of an action for damages, or of future punishment
following the breach of a commandment, or of loss of reputa-
tion ; but they are occupied with ideas of unhappiness entailed
on the aggrieved wife or husband, the damaged lives of children,
and the diffused mischiefs which go along with disregard of the
marriage tie. Conversely, a man who is moved by a moral
feeling to help another in difficulty, does not picture to himself
any reward here or hereafter; but pictures only the better
condition he is trying to bring about. One who is morally
prompted to fight against a social evil, has neither material
benefit nor popular applause before his mind; but only the
mischiefs he seeks to remove and the increased well-being
which will follow their removal."
In the above passage, we see that the picturing of the
results of conduct, as productive of woe and weal to others, is
presented as the only moral inducement to avoid doing what is
wrong, and to do what is right. It follows then, from this
conclusion, that the more people realized the unhappiness and
happiness that might be expected to result from the opposed
modes of conduct, the more would the moral inducement be
enabled to influence their minds. And this, I contend, es-
tablishes, from Mr Spencer's own point of view, the case for the
adoption, in practical moral teaching, of a direct demonstration
of the resulting pleasurable and painful effects of our conduct.
I have to make one other allusion to Mr Spencer's Ethics.
He defines the rational utilitarianism to which he adheres as
deductions from laws of life and conditions of existence as to
" what kinds of action necessarily tend to produce happiness
and what kinds to produce unhappiness " ; " which deductions
are to be recognised as laws of conduct, and are to be conformed
to irrespective of a direct estimation of happiness and misery."
Well, most assuredly, I consider that the conditions of ex-
istence, and such unquestionable or thoroughly ascertained
conclusions as may be called laws of life, should be held in
mind and put before their hearers by teachers of morality. At
the same time, I believe that, unless in the case of the simplest
or most widely obeyed of those conditions and laws, it is
necessary to trace the effects of conformity and nonconformity
to them. It is thus, and thus only, that any real influence can
be effected. Moreover, if we were to dispense with a direct
estimation of happiness and misery, we should simply be
338 MRS BAIN:
forging fresh fetters for the human intellect. It is only by our
being able to apply the utilitarian test, and thus to call in
question traditional, generally received, or evolutional precepts
that we can preserve ethical freedom of thought. Otherwise,
our ethics might, for example, degenerate into the stationari-
ness of Confucianism, and of all sets of dogmas regarded as
infallible.
To continue the examination of evolutional Ethics, Mr Leslie
Stephen, in his Science of Ethics, maintains that efficiency
of the social organism should be regarded as the direct end of
conduct ; and that the only general criterion of efficiency is
that " health which would include the right working of all the
functions the intellectual and the emotional as well as the
purely animal."
But supposing, in a system of ethical teaching, people were
merely enjoined to strive towards the attainment of this health,
such injunction, in itself, could not have any marked effect
upon them. And the same argument, already applied to
Mr Muirhead's list of virtues, can, of course, be made use of,
in like manner, with regard to what we may infer is Mr
Stephen's completed ethical injunction : that we ought to be
strong, to be brave, to be temperate in all respects &c. &c.
Mr Stephen objects to hedonic calculation on grounds
already stated i.e. that of its indefiniteness but he also
objects to it because, he argues, it fails to consider the effects
upon the individual of the existing social structure or type of
society, and of changes in the social structure ; and again
individual conduct as affecting the type of society.
This criticism applies merely to a restricted utilitarian
estimate, and not to one sufficiently wide ; which means one
that includes the consideration of all the main influences
affecting general happiness at any given time, and also ulti-
mate happiness, or the probable wellbeing of posterity.
But Mr Stephen, like Mr Spencer, makes certain admissions
which are, in fact, equivalent to an acknowledgment of the
necessity of pointing out the good and bad consequences of
actions, in moral teaching. He first tells us that he would
" say with every moralist who ever wrote that the bare moral
maxims will do nothing without a thorough training of the
emotional nature." Then he goes on to observe that, " so far
to teach me that my conduct hurts others, is to make me feel
for others if I am capable of the sympathy." Again he says :
"to learn really to appreciate the general bearings of moral
conduct" (bearings of course upon human happiness) "is to
learn to be moral in the normally constituted man."
Prof. Sidgwick considers it would be unadvisable to intro-
ETHICS FROM A PURELY PRACTICAL STANDPOINT. 339
duce a purely utilitarian morality. For one thing, he remarks,
" it might impair old moral habits, without effectively replacing
them with new ones."
But a more systematically utilitarian moral teaching would
mean a more and more definite conception of the morality, or
tendency to add to the general wellbeing of the old moral
habits i.e. if they really were moral habits. And this would
have an effect the reverse of tending to impair those habits.
Mr Sidgwick had in view the bringing forward of exceptions
to received rules of morality ; but it does not appear to me that
fears on this score need be entertained. To illustrate : let us
suppose the ethical teacher to make it much clearer to the
many how, speaking generally, truthfulness, fidelity to promises,
engagements or bargains, self-control, temperance and courage
are conducive to the general welfare. If, along with this
justification of the prevailing views, he were to instance cases
where it was expedient to disregard truth, promises, engage-
ments and bargains, how self-control, temperance and courage
might be overdone, such frank admission, while mentally
stimulating, would not, I conceive be morally hurtful but the
contrary : they would conduce gradually to the acquisition of
more trustworthy moral sentiments. I do not, however, mean
to approve of the drawing of highly refined and subtle dis-
tinctions. These would only cause perplexity, and, indeed,
might, in some degree, undo the influence of the simpler
instruction.
In common with Mr Stephen, Mr Sidgwick further main-
tains that estimates of happiness and unhappiness made at any
given time would probably prove erroneous 'guidance, for the
reason that human nature and the conditions of life are
undergoing change or modification. This, however, applies
only to a fixed or established utilitarian code a thing I have
no intention of advocating.
Prof. Sidgwick argues that it is expedient to conjoin a
purely utilitarian Ethics with common sense morality i.e. the
generally received views on ethics. In my opinion, the con-
junction is defensible in so far as it means that the scientific
hedonist must take into account and point out the social and
pecuniary risks that running counter to the received views, in
certain directions, would probably, at any given time, involve ;
and when it may be expedient, having regard to individual
circumstances, that such risks should not be run. Also, while
approving of, and thus paving the way to whatever social
changes an unqualified application of the utilitarian test might
require, he must dwell on the necessity for co-operation in the
carrying out of certain changes : and that without co-operation,
340 MRS BAIN:
these need not be attempted (unless, for instance, by some rare
individual possessed of great social influence, or of commanding
ability, unusual force of character and physical endurance).
This toleration of institutions that accord with the received
views, so long as the proposed new institutions have not
obtained adequate support, may, along with the preceding
instance stated, be held to be effecting a certain compromise
with common sense morality; but it seems to me that the
compromise should go no further. For example, let us consider
the moral sentiments expressed by the average person. That
these exhibit looseness, inexactitude and not infrequently distinct
error, cannot, I think, fail to be apparent to those habituated to
the examination of social and ethical theories. And if this be
so, it is, I hold, the office of the teacher of morals not to overlook
the errors, but to work assiduously towards their correction.
If the public opinion of to-day has reached a higher moral
standard than it attained, let us say, two centuries, or even one
century ago which I certainly believe it has the improve-
ment must have been effected by the publication and oral
expression of moral sentiments in advance of the then common
sense morality. Again, compromise in the expression of opinion
means for the most part, though not of course wholly, that the
convictions of those who think for themselves have, to some
extent, to be surrendered to popular prejudice and popular
intolerance. And in place of condoning such surrender, the
ethical instructor should endeavour to prevent the need of it :
by descanting on the general evils of silencing opinion, and by
specific support of such views as may be hedonically approvable,
and undeserving of being condemned or tabooed.
Prof. Sidgwick fully admits that common sense morality is
only to be deemed reliable in so far as it answers to the
utilitarian test. But where it fails to answer to this test i.e.
is unreliable I do not see any adequate reason why we require
to bolster it up. Prof. Sidgwick seems to think that a purely
utilitarian Ethics would differ little from the prevailing views
on morals ; and if such were the case, it would justify so far,
but only so far, their non-correction. If however, as I believe,
the difference is very considerable, and part of it lies in highly
important directions, the disregard of it cannot be held justi-
fiable. Moreover, as Mr Spencer observes, there will arise
" from the ever-increasing complexity of social life more difficult
questions of conduct " ; and these, I would argue, will require a
searching examination from the utilitarian standpoint 1 .
1 In another paper, I shall give examples of discrepancies between
common sense or generally received ethical verdicts, and utilitarian
conclusions as I conceive them to be.
ETHICS FROM A PURELY PRACTICAL STANDPOINT. 341
It is not, of course, to be supposed that I consider that
lectures on questions of conduct, however able and well-in-
structed they might be, should be regarded as infallible guides.
Those of the type I have suggested would be the readiest to
acknowledge their own fallibility. Besides, each would be
subject to the criticism of the other ; and all of them to the
further and salutary criticism of those members of the general
public who may be described as on the higher levels of
intelligence.
Space will only permit me to touch, in a word or two, upon
Ethics as underlying Politics. Save a small section of politics,
which may be characterized as traditional and sentimental, it
consists wholly of hedonic calculation, or the estimation of how
existing institutions and proposed changes affect, and are likely
to affect the general wellbeing. At times, the wellbeing con-
sidered may merely mean that of certain sections of the
community, or even one section; but if either of the two
great political parties endeavours, or seems to endeavour to
promote what may be called " class legislation," or to prevent
the passing of measures in the interest of special classes or
factions, the other, as a rule, will readily point out the restric-
tion, and refer to the wider aim of the general good. In
political, as in all sociological questions, there is, of course,
much false hedonistic calculation and no monopoly of accuracy
in any one party ! but there is, at least, a systematic turning
of attention towards the ultimate and only legitimate end.
Mr Spencer maintains, and with considerable justice, that the
politician disregards general principles, gives little heed to
lessons from history, and looks to near results to the exclusion
of the more remote consequences. But even supposing that
this criticism were wholly deserved, it would only mean that
politicians are too apt to adopt a narrow in place of a suffici-
ently wide and far-reaching utilitarian estimate.
Yet although the method of politics is the method of
hedonism, political parties appoint to Chairs of Philosophy
those who repudiate this method i.e. who repudiate that
alone by which they, as a party, live and move and have their
being. But there is still a more pronounced inconsistency than
this : the inconsistency of the repudiators themselves. When
they become politicians, they are as ready as other people to
resort to hedonistic calculation. And the same thing may be
said with regard to their treatment of social questions, and,
indeed, the consideration that they give to points of conduct in
their daily lives.
The hedonic instruction I am advocating may then be
described as a thorough -going demonstration of how modes of
342 MRS BAIN : ETHICS FROM A PURELY PRACTICAL STANDPOINT.
conduct accepted modes and proposed changes may, or may
not, be hedonically justifiable. It would include a description
or enumeration, as complete as may be practicable, of the
probable good and bad, or pleasure and pain-productive con-
sequences of our actions, particularly as they affect others how
the repetition of the same modes of conduct leads to the
formation of good and bad habits, and how these act and
re-act upon our more immediate associates, and, in less degree,
on others with whom we come in contact the tracing of the
more distant and complicated, as well as the nearer or palpable
effects of conduct individual conduct, and corporate or social
action how the type of society affects the individual, and how
individual action may affect the type of society. (This cannot
be called an exhaustive definition, but it is sufficient for my
present purpose and the limits of my paper.) And the question
is : would a wider, more systematic utilitarian teaching on the
lines, or nearly on the lines I have indicated, taken in hand by
men of adequate ability and training, be productive of improved
results, as regards its moralizing influence ? Let us look at the
matter, from two points of view; the first of which is ex-
emplified in the aphorism " evil is wrought by want of
thought," and the second in the following reply, given by a
poacher to a clergyman who asked why he didn't go to
church : " I already knows more than I does." In a measure,
we are all, of course, in the position of the poacher, inasmuch
that we leave undone a variety of things perhaps I should say
many things that we ought to do, and do a number of things
we ought not to do. On the other hand, it is almost needless
to remark, these errors are not incompatible with the fact that
increased knowledge and reflection on questions of conduct
must lead to improvement in action. Or to put it otherwise,
if people in general were made much more clearly and fully
alive to the consequences of their conduct, it certainly cannot
be supposed that such enlightenment would have no effect upon
them.
In conclusion, we may refer to a phrase already quoted, from
Mr Leslie Stephen's Science of Ethics " to teach me that my
conduct hurts others is to make me feel for others if I am
capable of the sympathy." To those who are not capable of
the sympathy, no amount of moral teaching will, of course, be
of any avail. But for the rest of us, the development of
sympathy by the amplest demonstration of how our conduct,
directly and indirectly, may injure and benefit others, is doing
all that can be done (however slow may be the progress) in the
direction of moralization.
III. CONSCIENCE.
BY HENRY STURT.
A CRITIC writing in Mind not long ago remarked, that " to
most of those who are seeking to know themselves, conscience
appears now as a perplexing abstraction, now as a phantom will
o' the wisp ; leading them on with momentary flashes of bright-
ness when they give no particular heed to it, but fading in-
distinguishably into the other constituents of consciousness
when they try to fix it with a steady gaze. An analysis which
should succeed in grasping the reality and holding it firmly
before us until we know it for what it is, would be a welcome
addition to the literature of Ethics."
If the prominence of conscience in popular moral philosophy
renders it more interesting as a subject of discussion, it cer-
tainly has not diminished its obscurity and elusiveness. In
common parlance it is often spoken of as an internal monitor,
a still small voice divinely given to guide us if we will listen
to it. Such expressions remind us of Socrates and his daemon,
whose voice made itself heard within him at critical moments
of his life. But there is a great difficulty in regarding con-
science as a divinely sent monitor of this kind. It is an
obvious criticism to point out that the guidance of conscience
is not infallible in the best of us; while it prompts fanatics
and savages to commit cruelties which are positively atrocious.
It is difficult to reconcile this fallibility of conscience with
the omniscience and benevolence of its Sender. But a much
more serious objection is that this popular notion of conscience
would make morality a matter of mere blind obedience. The
good man would merely be one who does what his conscience
or daemon tells him to do, while the bad man prefers to trust
his own judgment. And we must further suppose that no
one has any real power to judge between right and wrong.
For if we do possess such an intrinsic faculty of judgment,
we must have two sources of moral guidance, one truly our
own, and the other, conscience, given to us from outside ; and
344 HENRY STURT :
if the first has any efficacy, the second must be more or less
superfluous.
We have by no means exhausted the inconsistencies and
absurdities of the daemon theory of conscience, but it is need-
less to pursue them further. We may or may not admit the
possibility of divine guidance and inspiration at specially critical
periods of our life ; but one's everyday conscience must be a part
or faculty of one's very self. When we say in our hearts, " this
is right" or "this is wrong," we are not echoing the dictates
of an alien voice, but judging on our own responsibility ac-
cording to the best light that we have. We must drop the
external view of conscience, and perhaps drop the term itself
to a large extent, as suggesting externalism.
It is due to these considerations that we hear but little
of ' conscience " in recent works on moral philosophy. There
is a very justifiable tendency to replace it by such terms as
moral sense, moral faculty and moral ideal, none of which
imply that the guiding principle of a man's ethical judgment
is anything independent of his personality. It will conduce
to clearness if we use these terms largely in the present ex-
position. It may be taken for granted now that conscience
cannot be understood apart from the rest of our ethical ex-
perience. We will therefore proceed to offer some remarks
upon the moral faculty in general, and then return and try
to give definiteness to those phrases and notions of popular
moral philosophy in which " conscience " plays so prominent
a part. If then we observe the moral faculty as we see it mani-
fested in our fellow-men, the following remarks may be made :
Firstly : moral judgments are reached by a sort of intuition,
not by a process of abstract calculation and ratiocination, as
when we are working out a mathematical problem. When
a wise and conscientious man is hesitating what to do in a
difficult case, he does not look for help to abstract maxims
and ethical formulae. He decides by a sort of instinct, partly
natural, partly the fruit of training, as one settles a point of
good manners. If pressed to give reasons for his action, he
would probably fail to state them in strictly logical terms. He
would quote examples and analogies, and perhaps clinch the
matter by expressing his conviction that any other course than
the one he adopted would have been unworthy of him. In
moral deliberation what we generally do is to represent our-
selves as doing the action, and to realize as clearly as possible
all its consequences. Then we decide according as it harmo-
nizes or clashes with the general system of our conduct.
Moral judgments then are formed by a process essentially
inexact. And this leads us on to remark that they are by no
CONSCIENCE. 345
means infallible. Many atrocious practices among savage races
are undoubtedly dictated by conscientious motives, as for ex-
ample, the solemn murder of aged parents common at one time
among the New Zealanders. While in the matter of religious
fanaticism, it is hardly necessary to do more than mention the
cruelties of the Spanish Inquisition, and, in our own day, the
scruples of the Peculiar People, who think it wrong to call in
medical assistance for their sick. But these are extreme cases
of the fallibility of the moral judgment. Every one in his
own experience must have met conscientious but wrong-headed
people who persist in mistaken and disastrous courses of action
from the most excellent motives.
Another characteristic of the moral faculty is its capacity
of growth and change. In young infants we see no trace of
it ; but it begins to develop at a very early age. Very soon
we see that children feel shame at being found out in wrong-
doing. And from the time when shame is first apparent, the
moral faculty goes on growing and shaping itself into such
forms as the child's character and opportunities determine.
That the moral faculty changes among men and women is an
equally well-known fact. An unfortunate alteration in cir-
cumstances often produces a marked moral deterioration. A
drunken husband, loss of property, exile, a thoughtless lapse
from virtue, are often the occasions which lead to an all-round
debasement of the moral ideal. While, on the other hand, an
improvement in circumstances may have an equally notable
effect in the right direction. In religion these moral regenera-
tions are especially striking. When a sinner is sincerely con-
verted, his conscience shows the change more than anything.
It condemns the old courses which he loved, and enjoins the
works of righteousness which he despised.
It must not be supposed from the foregoing remarks that
we wish to exaggerate the variability and untrustworthiness
of the moral judgment. The most superficial cynic is bound
to admit that in many ways we rely upon its regularity and
steadiness with the most entire confidence. Even in the case
of bad men we have often no hesitation in predicting how they
will act and judge in such-and-such moral contingencies. But
much more regular and much more predictable is the moral
judgment of good men. About our intimate friends who lead
steady virtuous lives we usually feel the most absolute con-
fidence in reckoning upon their moral judgment. We feel the
most absolute certainty that they will praise a noble action
and condemn a base one. We can not imagine that the ideals
which have regulated their past lives, should be flung aside
in a moment of caprice.
M. 23
346 HENRY STURT:
Such are the main characteristics of the moral faculty which
concern us at present, so far as they can be observed by
studying the conduct of others. From them we are entitled to
say what the moral judgment is not, though we may not yet
be able to say precisely what it is. In the first place, it cannot
be exact and certain with the exactitude and certainty of
mathematics. Its variableness and fallibility are only too
plainly apparent. Geometry tells us that parallel lines will never
be seen to meet ; and this holds good for all observers without
respect of place or time. But conscience proclaims no laws
that are axiomatic and eternal. In the second place, the moral
judgment is not capricious : with most men it is remarkably
regular and steady. Men do not change their standard of
right and wrong as readily as ladies change their standard
of what is becoming in dress. Conscience is not a synonym
for wilfulness.
From the steadiness of the moral faculty we must now
draw a further conclusion, i.e. that there exists in the mind
some solid reality to account for it. Each act of moral judg-
ment does not spring isolated out of the self, like a flash of
lightning, with no traceable relation to the acts that precede or
follow it. On the contrary, taken together, they may be seen
to form a coherent, orderly system, whose plan we can trace and
understand. And to explain this regularity and permanence
of the moral functions, we must suppose that in the mind of
each of us there exists a sort of permanent moral structure.
To discover what this permanent factor of morality is, we
must quit the attitude of outside observers and look within
our own breasts. As soon as we do this, we come upon what
is really the central fact of ethical experience ; we see that our
conduct is regulated by a moral ideal. This ideal is not a
collection of general rules and maxims applied to regulate one's
personal scheme of life in the way that a legal code might be
applied in courts of law. It is rather an image of the sort
of man each of us thinks he ought to be in the ethical relations
of life. When we fall short of our ideal we are ashamed ; when
we live up to it we are satisfied with ourselves.
We have called the ideal an image ; some such word seems
appropriate to express its concrete, quasi-pictorial character.
But we must be careful of pressing the phrase too far. Such
metaphorical expressions are very inadequate to the subtlety
of the spiritual life. We must not suppose that everyone
carries before his mind's eye a clear-cut model of the self he
wishes to live up to. A few people no doubt do picture their
ideal in its details with much precision. But most of us see
it in a sort of twilight with wavering and scanty outlines.
CONSCIENCE. 347
While with people of dull imagination and limited faculty of
expression it is difficult to see what their ideal is, much more
to get them to give an intelligible account of it. But all the
same, wherever there is morality, there a moral ideal must be
operative. Without it we can have no shame, no scruples, no
sense of sin or obligation. For in these, as in all other cha-
racteristic facts of ethical experience, the essential feature is
that one has an idea of one's better self, and then compares
it with the self of one's actual conduct.
There are two possible misunderstandings of the foregoing
remarks which it is worth while to guard against. The first
is that the possession of a moral ideal implies an exalted
standard. It is certain that the ideal of a savage in many
cases includes theft and murder. It is equally certain that
the ideals of a great many Englishmen do not include the
virtue of chastity. Most of us remember J. S. Mill's famous
remark that the poor in all countries tell lies, but that the
English poor alone are ashamed of detection. This we under-
stand to mean that only in England does veracity find a place
in the average working man's ideal. Of course the Continental
working man would not admit the truth of Mill's statement.
In many such cases we have to pierce beneath a certain crust
of imposture and self-deception. We have to distinguish
between what people really think right and what they say
they think right. We must not suppose that all who give a
verbal assent to the principles of the Sermon on the Mount
have any practical intention of turning the cheek to the smiter,
or desire to be the objects of public contumely and persecution.
We must also distinguish between what people think right for
others and what they think right for themselves. An African
negro who sees no harm in robbing his neighbour, becomes
very indignant when his neighbour robs him. There are many
sorts of moral ideals ; and those of the savage, the philanthropist,
and the criminal, differ considerably in their respective contents
But so long as a man is a moral agent at all, some sort of
permanent ideal he must have ; and we must not refuse it
the terms "moral" and "ideal" because it differs largely from
our own.
Another misunderstanding to be guarded against is the
tendency to connect ideals with an elevated but vague en-
thusiasm for something entirely out of our reach. Taken in this
sense, the term is somewhat overworked at the present day. In
conversation and popular literature an idealist appears to be
one who is permanently dissatisfied with the existing order,
and cherishes a longing for something better, which however
is seldom capable of being stated in definite terms.
232
348 HENRY STURT:
Again, in many works of moral philosophy the Ideal denotes
absolutely right morality, or conduct such as we should pursue
if we and all our surroundings were perfect. The Absolute
Moral Ideal in this sense is of course a perfectly legitimate
conception, and indeed a necessary one, if we intelligently
believe in God and in an end to which our imperfect earthly
morality is tending. But this Absolute Ideal is not part
of our everyday life, but a sublime aspiration of religious
minds. It is an object of faith rather than of understanding ;
it supplies enthusiasm rather than guidance. It does not admit
of definite description. Nay, in the hearts of the weaker
brethren we shall look for it in vain. The moral ideal we
are speaking of now is the Personal Moral Ideal ; not a con-
ception which belongs exclusively to a few superior persons,
but the principle which regulates the conduct of the meanest
tinker who can be called a moral agent at all.
In the way it works to regulate our conduct, the moral
ideal resembles very closely other ideals which are not moral.
We have for example an ideal of personal appearance. Every
man has vaguely or distinctly a certain model or standard of
dress which he does not care to fall short of. If by any neglect
or lapse of memory he deviates from it, if for example he finds
himself in some public place got up in a manner he would
admit to be entirely unsuitable, he fe 
