Full text of "Mind"
MIND
A QUARTERLY REVIEW
OF
PSYCHOLOGY AND PHILOSOPHY.
THE ABERDEEN UNIVERSITY PRESS.
III
MIND
A QUARTERLY REVIEW
PSYCHOLOGY AND PHILOSOPHY.
EDITED BY
G. F. STOUT,
WITH THE CO-OPERATION OF PROFESSOR H. SIDGWICK, E. CAIRD, DR.
VENN, DR. WARD, AND PROFESSOR TITCHENER.
NEW SERIES.
VOL. VI.-I89?.
WILLIAMS AND NORGATE,
14 HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN, LONDON,
AND 20 SOUTH FREDERICK STREET, EDINBURGH.
1897.
CONTENTS OF VOLUME VI.
(NEW SERIES).
ARTICLES.
PAGE
BOSANQUET, B. The Relation of Sociology to Philosophy ... 1
BRYANT, S. Variety of Extent, Degree, and Unity in Self-Conscious-
ness 71
CARSTANJEN, F. (trans, by H. Bosanquet). Richard Avenarius and
his General Theory of Knowledge, Empiriocriticism . . . 450
DONKIN, E. H. Suggestions on Esthetic 511
FAIRBROTHER, W. H. Aristotle's Theory of Incontinence a Contri-
bution to Practical Ethics 359
HAMLIN, A. J. An Attempt at a Psychology of Instinct ... 59
HOBHOUSE, L. T. Some Problems of Conception .... 145
KNOX, H. V. On the Nature of the Notion of Externality . . . 204
LOGAN, J. D. Fixity of Character : its Ethical Interpretation . . 526
MARSHALL, H. R. The Function of Religious Expression . . . 182
MACCOLL, H. Symbolic Reasoning (II. ; for I. see MIND, Jan., 1880) 493
McTAGGART, J. E. Hegel's Treatment of the Categories of the Sub-
jective Notion (I.) 164
MCTAGGART, J. E. Hegel's Treatment of the Categories of the Sub-
jective Notion (II.) 342
MUIRHEAD, J. H. The Goal of Knowledge 476
RUSSELL, B. On the Relations of Number and Quantity . . . 326
SHAND, A. F. Types of Will 289
TAYLOR, A. E. On the Interpretation of Plato's Parmenides (III.) . 9
DISCUSSIONS.
BAIN, B. Reply to Mr. Muirhead's Criticism 371
BOSANQUET, B. In what Sense, if any, do Past and Future Time
Exist? 228
HODGSON, S. H. In what Sense, if any, do Past and Future Time
Exist? 231
MOORE, G. E. In what Sense, if any, do Past and Future Time Exist ? 235
MUIRHEAD, J. H. Ethics from a purely Practical Standpoint . . 90
NEATBY, W. B. The Existential Import of Propositions . . . 542
RITCHIE, D. G. Aristotle's Explanation of AKPA2IA .... 536
CRITICAL NOTICES.
BEARE, J. I. H. Hoffding, Geschichte der neueren Philosophic (Band
II.) 399
DAVIDS, C. A. F. RHYS. W. Caldwell, Schopenhauer's System in its
Philosophical Significance 245
DOUGLAS, C. T. Ribot, La Psyclwlogie des Sentiments . . . 107
JONES, E. E. C. J. Bergmann, Die Grundprobleme der Logik . . 251
\
VI
CONTENTS OF VOLUME VI.
MELLONE, S. H. G. Gory, L' immanence de la Raison dam la Con-
naissance Sensible 25&
MOORE, G. E. L. Brunschvicg, La modalite du Jugement . . . 554
MORRISON, W. D. H. Spencer, The Principles of Sociology (vol. iii.) . 241
ROYCE, J. G. F. Stout, Analytic Psycliology 370
RUSSELL, B. L. Couturat, De rinfini Mathematique .... 112
SCHILLER, F. C. S. W. James, Tlie Will to Believe, etc. . . . 547
TITCHENER, E. B. G. Santayana, The Sense of Beauty, etc. . . 559
,, P. J. Helwig, Eine Tlieorie des Schonen, etc . 563
NEW BOOKS.
AAL, A. Geschichte der Logosidee in der Griechischen Philosophie 428
BAERWALD, R. Tlieorie der Begabung 270
BERGSON, H. Matiere et Memoire, etc. 572
BOSANQUET, B. Psychology of the Moral Self .... 426
BOUGLE, C. Les Sciences sociales en Allemagne, etc. . . . 426
BROWN, E. E. Notes on Children's Drawings .... 426
BRYANT, S. Tlie Teaching of Morality in the Family and the School 568
BUTLER, J. Works (ed. W. E. Gladstone) 423
CAJORI, F. A History of Elementary MatJicmatics, etc. . . 570
CALDWELL, W. Sctwpenliauer' s System in its Philosophical Signifi
cance (Preliminary Notice) 123
CECIL, H. M. Pseudo-philosophy at the End of the Nineteenth
Century (vol. i.) 569
COHN, J. Geschichte des Unendlichkeitsproblems im abendlandischen
Denken bis Kant 273
COUTURAT, L. De Platonicis Mythis 134
DANTEC, F. LE. Tlieorie nouvelle de la Vie 129
Le Determinisme Biologique et la Personnalite Con-
sciente 427
DORING, A. Die Lehre des Sokrates als sociales Reformsystem . . 430
DOUGLAS, C. (ed. by). Ethics of J. S. Mill 570
EBBINGHAUS, H. Grundziige der Psychologic (Erster Halbband) . 433
EUCKEN, R. Die Lebensanschauungen der grossen Denker . . . 278
FIERENS-GEVAERT, H. Essai sur I' Art contemporain .... 128
ERASER, A. C. Philosophy of Tlieism (GifEord Lectures, 1895-96,
Second Series) 266
GIDDINGS, F. H. The Principles of Sociology, etc 124
GLADSTONE, W. E. Studies Subsidiary to tlie Works of BisJiop Butler 423
GROSSE, E. Die Formen der Familie und die Formen der Wirtschaft 274
HAACKE, W. Die Schdpfung des Mensclien und seiner Ideale, etc. . 131
HALEVY, E. La TlUorie Platonicienne des sciences . . . . 127
HALLECK, R. P. The Education of the Central Nervous System, etc. . 268
HART, E. Hypnotism, Mesmerism, and tlie New Witchcraft , . 125
HAWLEY, T. D. Infallible Logic, etc 268
HECKER, M. F. Schopenhauer und die indiscJie Philosophie . . 433
HEGEL, G. F. Philosophy of Right (trans. S. W. Dyde) ... 120
HERBART, J. F. Tlie. Science of Education (trans. H. M. and E.
Felkin) 425
HERTWIG, O. The Biological Problem of To-day, etc. (trans. P. C.
Mitchell) 124
HOFLER, A. Psychologic 431
JODL, F. Lehrbuch der Psychologic (Preliminary Notice) . . . 434
LAVIOSA, G. La Filosofia Scientifica del Diritto in Inghilterra, etc.
(Parte I.) 131
LEIBNITZ, G. W. New Essays concerning Human Understanding
(trans. A. G. Langley) 420
LINDSAY, J. Recent Advances in Theistic Philosophy of Religion . 267
MORGAN, C. L. Habit and Instinct 425
CONTENTS OF VOLUME VI. Vll
PAGE
MORRISON, W. D. Juvenile Offenders . 266
126
274
573
571
130
570
131
269
270
125
Mosso, A. Fear (trans. E. Lough and F. Kiesow)
NEUMARK, D. Die Freiheitslehre bei Kant und Schopenhauer
NOEL, G. La Logique de Hegel ......
PARRY, C. H. H. The Evolution of the Art of Music .
PENJON, A. Precis d'Histoire de la Philosophie .
PETERSEN, H. G. Medical Letters on Hypno- Suggestion
REHMKE, j. Grundriss der Geschichte der Philosophie, etc.
REID, G. A. The Present Evolution of Man ....
RICHARD, G. Le Socialisme et la Science Sociale
RICHMOND, W. Experience : a Chapter of Prolegomena
ROBERTSON, G. C. Elements of Psychology (ed. C. A. F. Rhys Davids) 263
,, Elements of General Philosophy (ed. C. A. F. Rhys
Davids) 263
ROMANES, G. J. Essays (ed. C. Lloyd Morgan) 269
RUBINSTEIN, S. Eine Trias von WillensmetaphysiJcern . . . 130
SANDEMAN, G. Principles of Biology 268
SCRIPTURE, E. W. Studies from the Yale PsycJiological Laboratory . 125
SEAILLES, G. Essai sur le Genie dans I' Art (2me ed.) .... 427
SETH, A. Man's Place in the Cosmos, and other Essays (Preliminary
Notice) 571
SILBERSTEIN, S. J. The Disclosures of the Universal Mysteries . . 566
Sintesi Cosmica, etc 133
SPENCER, H. The Principles of Sociology (vol. iii., Preliminary
Notice) 123
STOUT, G. F. Analytic Psychology (Preliminary Notice) . . . 269
TITCHENER, E. B. An Outline of Psychology (Preliminary Notice) . 269
,, An Outline of Psychology ..... 422
UNBEHAUN, J. Versuch einer philosophischen Selektionstheorie . . 272
WARD, L. F. Dynamic Sociology, etc. ....... 569
WATSON, J. Christianity and Idealism, etc. 424
WELBY, V. Grains of Sense 571
WENLEY, R. M. Contemporary Theology and Theism .... 567
WENTSCHER, M. Uber physische und psychische Kausalitdt, etc. . 434
WETTERSTRAND, 0. G. Hypnotism and its Application to Practical
Medicine (trans. H. G. Petersen) 570
WITCHELL, C. A. The Evolution of Bird Song, etc 126
WUNDT, W. Lectures on Human and Animal Psychology (trans. J. E.
Creighton and E. B. Titchener) 126
ZELLER, E. Aristotle and the Earlier Peripatetics (trans. B. F. C.
Costelloe and J. H. Muirhead) 564
PHILOSOPHICAL PERIODICALS .... 136, 276, 436, 577
NOTES AND NEWS.
ALRUTZ, S. On the Temperature-Senses (I.) 445
ELLIS, H. A Note on Hypnagogic Paramnesia 283
Psychological Laboratory at University College, London . . . 448
Welby Prize, Advertisement of 144
CORRESPONDENCE 143
OBITUARY NOTICE.
BOSANQUET, B. The late Prof. Wallace ....... 287
NEW SERIES. No. 21.] [JANUARY, 1897.
MIND
A QUARTERLY REVIEW
OF
PSYCHOLOGY AND PHILOSOPHY.
I. THE RELATION OF SOCIOLOGY TO
PHILOSOPHY.
BY B. BOSANQUET.
1. Nothing could be more startling primd facie to the
philosophical student than the proposition that the science
of society is a creation of strictly modern thought ; of
thought, that is, not merely recent in time, but determined
by distinctively modern conditions and owning no continuity
with the central tradition of European philosophy. Yet this
was undoubtedly the view of Auguste Comte; it was implied
by Mill in the sixth book of the Logic ; and the same stand-
point reveals itself in the independence and isolation which
Sociology, or la Science Sociale, maintains to-day as against
Plato and Aristotle on the one hand and their modern repre-
sentatives e.g., Spinoza and Hegel on the other.
It is not my intention, in the following observations, to
challenge the claims of Sociology to an origin and existence
independent of Ethical or Social Philosophy ; my purpose is
rather to suggest an analogy in accordance with which this
independence may be justified on the basis of a definite rela-
tion between the two types of theory. Certain traits of
parallelism and even of convergence will, however, neces-
sarily disclose themselves as between lines of investigation
so closely akin. And each, it will appear probable, may
have something to learn from the other.
2. What is the essence of the new science, as Comte
repeatedly and emphatically calls it, which he regarded as
Social Physics, and for which he invented the name of
1
2 B. BOSANQUET :
Sociology? The philosophical principle of the science is
" that social phenomena are subject to natural laws, ad-
mitting of rational prevision ". l The essential novelty of
the conception in its author's eyes was, in short, that there
could be, in the strict sense, a general science of social
phenomena ; that natural laws of progress could be ascer-
tained, and that the science of society could thus take its
place as part, and the most important part, of the indivisible
organism of real and natural knowledge. The present is big
with the future. 2 This enunciation of the principle of con-
tinuity, drawn from Leibnitz, is adopted by Comte as
expressing the true spirit of social dynamics ; and is inter-
preted by him as involving the idea that the social movement
is subject to invariable natural laws rather than to any will
whatever. A general theory of the co-existence and succes-
sion of social phenomena according to " natural" laws such
is the ideal, the need and the aspiration to which Comte
gave form and currency under the name of Social Science,
Social Physics, or Sociology.
Philosophy has entered upon the study of man in society
from a different point of view. According to the simile of
Plato, which has never ceased to be applicable, the philo-
sopher has tried to read in society the larger expression
of what man the individual man has it in him to
become, and therefore of what he really is. He has investi-
gated the state, or the social whole, as he has investigated
other achievements and expressions of the human mind, in
order to learn in its doings what that mind really is and
what are its powers of self-assertion or its necessities of self-
surrender in face of its human and its natural environment.
There is always a bias in his research, or at least a definite
problem before him. He tests the life of man by its relation
to reality, by its harmony, comprehensiveness and coherence.
He wants to ascertain how the highest life exhibits itself in
the social organisation, or what elements have been contri-
buted by the great nations of history to the fulness of human
nature, or how the natural surroundings of a race have
stimulated its expressive or constructive activity. The
philosopher has dealt, by preference, with what have com-
monly been accepted as the highest types of civilisation, and
has drawn in the less mature phases of evolution and the
action of material and economic influences mainly as acces-
sory considerations. It is needless to labour the contrast
further. I proceed to point out its consequence.
1 Martineau's Positive Philosophy, ii., 62. 2 /6., p. 69.
THE RELATION OP SOCIOLOGY TO PHILOSOPHY. 3
3. Sociology, as contrasted with those branches of Philo-
sophy proper which deal in any way with the facts ol
society, pretends to the width and impartiality of a natural
science. The laws of aggregation and of the behaviour of
aggregates as such, though restricted by limitation to social
aggregates, under whatever definition of the term " social "
commends itself to the investigator, are the problems with
which it deals. It has no primary reason for taking a greater
interest in the Greek city or the nation of modern Europe
than in the varied and unfamiliar phases of savage or bar-
barian life. It does not confine its investigations to the
State or the civic society, but wherever two or three are
gathered together there is a problem such as may be pro-
posed to sociological analysis. The employment of compari-
son between human society and relations found to exist in
groups of the lower animals is, as we might expect, vigorously
defended by Comte, and in the hands of Mr. Herbert Spencer
has formed the bulk of sociological inquiry. So far, indeed, as
impartiality or neutrality is really observed we have no
right to impute to Sociology as such the tendency to ex-
plain what are commonly held to be the higher forms of life
by reducing them to the level of those which are commonly
held to be the lower. But some result of the kind has
undoubtedly characterised the social science so far as it has
hitherto been developed ; and the reason is not far to seek.
An impartial science dealing with very general forms of
behaviour we might take chemistry as an example will
give a more complete account of objects in which those
forms of behaviour are presented per se than of those in
which they assume complications subservient to some further
type of unity. Chemistry can say something of all material
substances ; but it can say less, in proportion, of those which
have biological significance. And so the most general treat-
ment of the laws of grouping of living creatures has more in
proportion to say of groupings in which no very complex
self-realisation of the human mind is manifested than of
those which involve all the functions of the human spirit at
its best. And thus, quite apart from any set purpose of
dragging down what pass as the higher manifestations of
humanity, it results ip so facto that an account is given of
them in terms which, while adequate to certain simpler
phenomena, are not adequate to them. One can hardly get
over Mr. Herbert Spencer's characterisation of a human
society as a local variety of the species, a description which
appears to disregard all the elements by which it is made
social and human.
4 B. BOSANQUBT :
But the wise application of such an impartial theory to
problems which tend to become isolated in their dignity has
very great advantages. The mere fact signalised above,
that for Sociology the State ceases to be the sole form of
social unity, is typical of these advantages. For the State is
nothing but an expression of certain needs and aspirations
of mankind ; it is itself capable of many degrees of existence,
and if it is the highest revelation of social unity it can only
be known as such when duly correlated with all others. A.
general or indifferent theory is a solvent which destroys the
rigid limitations of traditional thought and sets us free to
contemplate the unity of life in its continuous endeavour
after self-expression.
Whether the impartiality or indifference which has
hitherto characterised Sociological analysis is really essential
to it appears to depend on the question whether the general
laws of social behaviour differ in kind or only in degree from
the characteristics which give interest to the object matter
of political, historical, ethical and religious philosophy. The
point of view taken by M. Bernes 1 seems to recognise a
double tendency in the body of science, such that the
purely speculative or, in our language, the indifferent
nature of mathematics finds its complement at the other
extreme of the series in what for him is the practical
spirit of Sociology ; the intermediate group of the " natural "
sciences being, as I understand him, the chief meeting-
ground of these two tendencies, neither of which can
be wholly absent in any scientific endeavour. It is a
detail of terminology that M. Bernes' phrase "practical"
seems to me to approach in actual significance the philo-
sophical expression "speculative". It means, as I read
him, not the spirit of an art devoted to immediate action,
but rather the spirit of a philosophy which divines, through
the will no less than through the intellect, the impulse and
the indications of a partially unrealised unity in the world,
which demands realisation. If Sociology admits to itself
the scientific validity of such an impulse and the demands of
such a unity, and applies itself to the discovery of laws and
forms which shall be capable of doing justice to this re-
cognition in the comparative treatment of social aggregates
and functions, then the course which it has hitherto pursued
will have been considerably modified, and the distinction
which separated it from Philosophy will in all essentials
have been done away.
1 Revue de Morale et de Metaphysique, March, 1895.
THE RELATION OF SOCIOLOGY TO PHILOSOPHY. 5
It is possible, I think, to exhibit this distinction, and its
vanishing quality, in a striking light, by what is something
more than a mere illustration. Not only may Sociology be com-
pared with Psychology in its relation to Philosophy proper,
but in a great measure, as we shall see, the relation in the two
cases is actually the same. For Sociology, in its later develop-
ments, seems likely to be regarded as a psychological science.
Thus the relation of Psychology to Philosophy reproduces
in many respects that of " Social Science " to the Philosophy
of Society. Like Sociology proper, Psychology in the strict
sense is a science of modern origin. Like Sociology, it
assumed at first the position of an extension of the natural
sciences to a field hitherto denied to them, and proclaimed
itself to deal, not with the value or significance of special
intellectual phenomena, but with the general and causal
laws which governed the operations of mind. The im-
partiality or speculative neutrality which we observed in
early Sociology is claimed with startling emphasis even by
the most recent Psychology. All revelations of mind, we
.are told, are of equal interest and importance for Psychology
as such. It is not their grade in reality, but their exempli-
fication of psychical laws and causes, which entitles them to
psychological consideration.
And the very terminology of Psychological Science appears
to confirm the comparison here suggested, both in respect of
the primary relation of Sociology to Philosophy and in
respect of the possibility of a further one. The Laws of
Association, with which modern psychology began, and in
which, for a great part of its course, it has principally con-
sisted, might serve for a designation of the general problem
of abstract Sociology no less than of the general problem of
abstract Psychology. So long as either science restricts
itself to the consideration of the abstract conditions of any
cohesion whatever, so long as the simplest connexion of
units is as good an object for it as the great organised
structures of civilisation, the indifference which belongs to
it as a purely natural investigation remains unimpaired.
And the strict definition of Psychology undoubtedly de-
mands this indifference. In dealing with the mere course
of psychical events, it makes abstraction from the relations
to reality which constitute the essence of Logic or Ethics,
or other branches of Philosophy. Just so, as we have
noted, Sociology as such is indifferent whether the grouping,
with which its Laws of Association are concerned, consists
of a civilised state or a savage horde, of a Christian family
or a polygamous community.
6 B. BOSANQUET :
But the further tendency which has suggested itself in
Sociology has already taken shape in Psychology. It has
been found possible, by a recognition of the more definite
facts of mental organisation, to come closer to the operations
of developed intelligence than could be effected by the Laws
of Association alone. The Theory of Apperception, in its
modern form, is to the Laws of Association what an ex-
planation of special machines is to a general account of the
working of mechanical parts. It still, indeed, remains
ostensibly within the province of Psychology ; but it re-
cognises that though the reality which we think of may not
fall within the mind, yet the mind is very different according
to the reality which it thinks of. 1 The science, then, may
still claim to maintain its speculative impartiality ; but this
is no longer to be understood as more than the universal
justice of reason. For it cannot any longer be said that the
terms in which the highest phenomena are explained are
such, without modification, as sufficed for the analysis of the
lower. No doubt, indeed, it will always be convenient that
Psychology as such should not pretend to absorb into itself
the whole range of philosophical sciences, and therefore that
it should maintain on the whole the peculiar abstraction
which excludes the relation to reality from its view. But
the line of this abstraction will always tend to be a vanishing
one ; and Psychology, armed with the theory of Appercep-
tion, will tend to be the science, not merely of any and every
mind, but of mind where it is most mind, because best and
most typical.
The same relation may be predicted for Sociology. There
will always no doubt be a difference in point of view, accord-
ing as we approach the study of " association " from the side
of anthropology or of zoology, or from any member of the
linked circle of philosophical sciences, which attempt to
bring together what is most profoundly real in the world.
But as social science acquires command over its material
and its conceptions, and as the mere unity of all phases of
social existence ceases to be a novelty worth insisting on, it
will recognise a gradation and a tendency, and find means to
distinguish, on its own ground, the social forms in which
development is fullest from those in which it is most
meagre. In as far as it succeeds in this, it will assume to-
wards the Philosophy of Society the same general attitude
which Psychology holds towards Logic, Ethics, and ^Esthetic;
and will be able to render services of the same class.
1 Mr. F. H. Bradlev has somewhere a sentence to this effect.
THE RELATION OF SOCIOLOGY TO PHILOSOPHY. 7
4. In the present condition of Sociology it appears need-
less to insist on that difference of method between social
science and Philosophy which has arisen from a confusion
between the claims of intelligence to deal rationally with
social phenomena, and the idea that " subjection to natural
law " or rational coherence implied causation of the same
type as natural causation. It is worth while, however, to
point out that on this aspect of social problems the relation
of man to his environment, or the degree in which man is the
creature of circumstance, the new social science had much
to learn from the ethical and political philosophy of Plato
and Aristotle. The distinction between determination by
law and determination by the presentation of law, and the
relation of the conscious motive embodied in a political
order to the facts and modes of behaviour existent in natural
surroundings and economic arrangements, are stated with
perfect balance and clearness by Plato and Aristotle. Many
one-sided constructions of social causation might never have
been attempted had due attention been paid to their ideas.
On the other hand, it is of interest to note that the force
of facts appears to be determining Sociology to the position
of a psychological science, as indeed Mill, in the sixth book
of the Logic, fully intended it to be. The Psychology of
Crowds, the idea of Imitation as the ultimate characteristic
of Social Wholes, or the conception of the Consciousness of
Kind as the central attribute of Society, bring us into
contact with ideas with which political or social philosophy
has long been accustomed to work. But while we recognise
in these notions an approximation to philosophical thoughts,
we cannot but wonder that so little use should be made by
Social Science of the resources to which it now seems to hold
the key. The psychology of a crowd is not even the psychology
of a committee, much less of a representative assembly or of
a great state. The working of an organised psychical unity
of this kind has at least been more suggestively sketched by
Plato in his commonwealth or by Aristotle in his idea of the
thinker's function, than by any modern Sociologist. Yet M.
Bernes, I observe, rests altogether on the commonplace and
popular view of Aristotle's notion of the thinker's life.
Imitation again is a bald and partial rendering of that
complex reciprocal reference which constitutes social co-
operation. To say that imitation is the characteristic of
society is like saying that repetition is the soul of design,
whereas even symmetry is incompatible with a principle
so elementary as repetition. If one man holds a ham-
mer on a rivet and another strikes it, that is conscious
8 B. BOSANQUET I RELATION OF SOCIOLOGY TO PHILOSOPHY.
reciprocal reference, but not imitation ; and this doing of
different things, as parts in a single plan, is the type of social
co-operation. The whole idea of function, of structure and
organisation in short, of true identity in difference seems
to be absent where such a suggestion is made. It seems
probable that Sociology has arrived at these conceptions by
re-traversing on its own account the track which leads from
the apparent individual mind to the real identity of the
universal self; a track long familiar to philosophy, but one on
which " social science" par excellence is only now arriving at
the earliest halting-places. The same observation might be
made with regard to the "Consciousness of Kind," 1 which
appears to be a faint and generalised counterpart of that
recognition of oneself in another, to which Hegel long ago
gave an explicit rank in the development of self-conscious-
ness, thus laying down the place of social relations in the
growth of mind.
And in conclusion, while welcoming the unity of science
as proclaimed by Comte and the conception of a probable
influence of Sociology on scientific method as suggested by
M. Bernes, one is amazed to find any such conception
announced (as Comte more especially announces it) to be
new in principle.
We seem to have forgotten that for Plato, e.g., Laws, 967
E, it was an essential principle that politics was a science ;
that political forms corresponded to types of mind ; that the
central light of all science, including the mathematical
science, was the idea of the good, and that no one who had
not mastered the connexion that runs through the order of
the universe, and its bearing on society and institutions,
was fit, in his view, to be a ruler of men.
It hardly seems possible that, at the point which has now
been attained, a distinction between Sociologists and Philo-
sophers can any more justify itself than a distinction
between Philosophers and Psychologists. It does not follow
that the retention of a more general analysis and a more
indifferent point of view may not be of service in the actual
treatment of the sciences in question. We have seen that
such a general analysis is a valuable solvent of distinctions
which impede the perception of continuity ; but while re-
taining for this purpose the modern and naturalistic spirit
of his science, the true Sociologist, like every great Psycho-
logist, will recognise, indirectly if not directly, the grades of
value and of reality, the logical and ideal structure, which
belong to certain cases and complications of the very general
laws with which he primarily deals.
1 Giddings' Principles of Sociology.
II. ON THE INTERPRETATION OF PLATO'S
PAR MEN IDES. (III.)
BY A. E. TAYLOR.
Hypothesis 3. If the second hypothesis is the most elaborate
and difficult, the third, which is in substance a continuation
of the second, may be said to be the most perplexing part of
the dialogue. It is not that there is any difficulty of inter-
pretation ; the argument is simple, straightforward, and
entirely free from the taint of more or less conscious
sophistication which hangs about some steps of hypothesis
2. But the very serious difficulty which besets this new
hypothesis is the difficulty of seeing how it in any way
adds to the understanding of the puzzles about unity and
diversity. Viewed as an analysis of the conception of
" change " the passage has much acuteness and value,
but it is hard to see how it advances our knowledge of
the nature of unity and plurality beyond the stage we have
already reached. It seems almost as if Plato, having once
been led by the recognition of motion and change as some-
how qualifying reality to the analysis of the notion of
change itself, found himself unable to resist the temptation
to set out the puzzles and contradictions it involves at
length, in spite of the interruption of the main argument
of the dialogue which this proceeding en tails. For, while
it is manifest that these two pages of Plato already contain
in a more condensed form the substance of what Aristotle
was afterwards to say on the same subject in Physics 5,
it is equally clear that the episode is an artistic blemish.
This hypothesis absolutely refuses to fit into the antithetical
framework upon which the others are constructed ; in order
to set out the whole of the hypotheses in symmetrical form
as antinomies it is necessary with Zeller in the Platonische
Studien to treat 3 simply as a further development of 2,
while yet Plato himself formally closes 2 at 155 E and
opens the new argument with the express assertion of its
independence, ert 8rj TO rpirov Xe'7&>/iei/. Thus what is in
10 A. E. TAYLOR :
content a mere footnote to the foregoing antithesis is in
form treated as an independent hypothesis, and the dialogue
is made richer by a valuable piece of analysis at the expense
of its artistic and logical unity.
The point from which we now start for the third time
is the conclusion reached by our last discussion. We are
to consider certain further consequences of the doctrine
we have been led to affirm about the One. We have seen
that it both is and is not one and many ; we have now to
ask in what precise way we are to understand this rather
enigmatic result. The negative part of the premise from
which we set out is, it should be remarked, merely an
extension and restatement of the positive ; it has nothing
to do with the negative conclusions of 1 which were ex-
pressly rejected by Plato at 142 A. The non-existence of
unity which is here assumed is not the absolute non-
existence of the first hypothesis, but only such relative
non-existence as is involved in the result that the One is
also a plurality. The following reasoning, about the meta-
physical assumptions of which it is certainly possible to
feel some misgiving, has at any rate the merit of making it
clearer than ever that Plato does not conceive his union of
contraries in an Hegelian sense. For he goes on to argue
that if the One is both a unity and a plurality, and if, as
has been already admitted, it appears in time, then the two
sides of it, the unity and the plurality, will fall temporally
apart. The One " partakes of reality " he argues in so
far as it is, and is one ; it " partakes of unreality " in so far
as it is many, or as the Many are real. It is therefore evi-
dent that the two phases of its existence are distinct in
time. "It is real at one time and unreal at another, for
that is the only way in which it can be both real and unreal "
(ev d\\(o apa xp6v<a /iere^et ical ev a\\a) ov //.ere^ei KT\). And
consequently there must come moments in its history at
which it is passing through the transition from unity to
plurality, from actual reality to such unreality as is implied
in the reality of the many. That is, it undergoes the process
of coming into and passing out of being (yevecns and (j>0opa).
The same considerations will apply to each of those pairs
of contradictory predicates which we have seen reason to
ascribe alike to the one reality. Its appearances as qualified
by each of these opposites will fall into successive portions
of time, and there will thus be moments at which the One
will be undergoing all the different forms of change enumer-
ated by Aristotle ; it will pass through " expansion " and
" contraction," " assimilation " and " dissimilation," " in-
ON THE INTERPRETATION OF PLATO'S PARMEXIDES. 11
crease " and " decrease," it will change from motion to rest
and from rest to motion (156 B). And so far, though we
have not really added to our stock of knowledge about
the One anything beyond what was partly implied and
partly openly stated (cf. ejiyvero teal yiyverai real yevrja-erai,
155 D) in the last hypothesis, we seem to have been fairly
faithful to the original subject of discussion. It is in the
passage which immediately follows that Plato (156 D-157 B)
suddenly introduces a new subject which is in itself of high
importance though its connexion with the discussion of the
One is very loose. This subject is then disposed of in a
few lines and is never referred to again in the rest of the
dialogue. This important and novel subject is the con-
ception of an un extended temporal point, the " Instan-
taneous " (TO egatyvijs) as Plato names it. We know of
course from Aristotle how difficult the Greeks found it
to think of a point, whether of time or of space, as having
no extension, and it is, I imagine, not unlikely that this
problematic conception of a moment of time which with-
out having duration yet occupies a definite position in
the time series was introduced into philosophy for the
first time by the present passage. Plato here, as in the
similar case of his tentative account of abstract space
in the Timceus, marks his own sense of the difficulty
and novelty of the conception he is trying to illustrate
by the terms in which he speaks of it ; it is twice over " this
enigmatic notion " (TO arotrov rovro, cf. Tim. 49 A, ^akeirov
real d/jivSpov etSo<? ... 51 B, /JLerakafji^dvov aTropcoTara TTTJ rov
vorjrov teal SvcraXtarorarov of space). Necessary as the concep-
tion of the " Instantaneous " is if we would think of change
at all, it is indeed so strange and hard to grasp that the
general tendency of thinking, even in modern times, has
been to ignore it as far as possible. We have learned from
natural science that behind every visible and apparently
instantaneous change there lies a history of gradually ac-
cumulating unseen inner modifications, and we have come
to treat natura nil facit per saltum almost as a philoso-
phical axiom ; it is not till we begin to take the task of
analysing our own conceptions in earnest that we discover
that the notion of an instantaneous transition, paradoxical
as it is, cannot be dispensed with without making all change
impossible -furca expellas, tamen usque recurrit. On the
passage before us, in which this momentous conception
makes its first appearance in philosophy, there is no need to
linger. The argument proceeds straightforwardly enough as
follows : The transition which we have seen it necessary to
12 A. E. TAYLOR :
ascribe to the Eeal from one state or quality to its opposite
cannot be spread over an actual duration, for then the same
object would possess opposite qualities during the same
piece of duration, and this is for the Plato of the Parmenides,
as for the Plato of the Eepublic (436 B), a manifest impossi-
bility. We are thus compelled to think of the transition as
taking place in an unextended moment ; there will be, so to
speak, a point of indifference midway between motion and
rest which occupies no duration (eV \pov<t> ov&evi ovcra), and
it will be at this zero-point where the motion e.g. is over
and the rest not yet begun that the transition takes place.
And we may apply the same idea to all the forms of change
which we have recognised as predicates of the real. In each
case the change must be thought of as involving such a
moment of transition at which the object is between two
states, one of which is over and the other not yet begun.
We may therefore add to the list of contradictions in which
we have involved the one reality this further one, that while
it possesses in succession all manner of conflicting predicates
at the moment of transition from one to another it possesses
neither (157 B). Thus the hypothesis ends at least formally
by bringing the novel conception of the "Instantaneous" to
bear on the problem of unity and diversity. But it is clear
that for Plato's purpose, which is to prove that the various
pairs of predicates enumerated can be denied as well as
affirmed of the One, there was no necessity for an elaborate
investigation into the metaphysics of change. It would
have been quite enough in each case to go, as he does in the
case of unity and diversity at 155 E, straight from the affirma-
tion under certain conditions of both sides of a contradiction
to the denial under proper restrictions of each. So that,
as I said before, the appearance of this hypothesis is best
explained by the assumption that Plato wished to illustrate
a conception w r hich he felt to be at once novel and impor-
tant, even at the cost of a conscious digression. But the
most important peculiarity of this hypothesis, from our
point of view, is its distinct assertion that the only way in
which contradictory predicates, such as those with which
we have been dealing in the last hypothesis, can alike attach
to reality is the way of succession in time. Our natural in-
clination was to see in the contradictions of that argument
at the least an adumbration of that modern theory which
makes contradiction and strife, in a deeper sense than that
of Heracleitus, the heart of reality. We are here, however,
unmistakably taught that Plato advocates such a union
of opposites as is from the Hegelian point of view merely
ON THE INTERPRETATION OF PLATO'S PARMENIDES. 13
"external". The demonstration that the same reality has
as its predicates both rest and motion means then for Plato
in the Parmenides not, as it might for a disciple of Hegel,
that at the same time and in the same relation both are true
of the same object, but only that the one is as real of the
same subject at one time as the other is at another. The
common reality is qualified by both predicates not as pos-
sessing them both at once and in inextricable combination,
but as being bound to manifest sometimes one, sometimes
the other. It might perhaps be questioned whether one or
two of the demonstrations of 2, notably the proof that
unity, even when considered in abstraction from reality, of
itself involves the existence of a plurality of numbers, and
the establishment of the intimate connexion between iden-
tity and difference, at p. 147, do not imply a closer union of
opposites than the third hypothesis seems to contemplate ;
but in that case we can hardly do more, in the face of
Plato's explicit declaration, than credit him with the dis^
covery of a principle which reaches further than he was
aware. 1 And if we will remember that ovaia for him in
this dialogue sometimes has the special sense of present
reality (141 E, 152 A), we can see that even a Hegelian
may up to a certain point admit his contention. For,
as far as present appearance goes, it is clear that only
one of the contrary predicates can make itself felt at
the same time. The other may be there, but it is at best
concealed and implicit and must wait for a favourable
opportunity to take its turn of ascendency e.g., space may
be both continuous and discrete, the same object both in
motion and at rest, both one and many ; but at any given
moment what asserts itself as present perceived reality will
be one side of the antithesis only ; the other side which is
not forced upon our notice by present perception is after
all only latent, and has to be discovered by subsequent re-
flexion. So that there is real force in Plato's contention
that opposites, in whatever way they may co-exist, can only-
make their equal reality felt by taking it in turns to domi-
nate experience that is, by transition from the one to the
other in time. In the case of the ultimate relation between
unity and plurality indeed we should be led, if we followed
1 The Hegelian would not improve his position by an appeal to the
well-known encomium oil Heracleitus, Soph., 242 E. For all that that
passage asserts is that the transition from unity to plurality with which
hypothesis 3 deals is perpetually taking place. Soph., pp. 255-56 (on
Kivr]<ris and o-rao-i?), are fully in accord with the Parmenides and Republic.
14 A. E. TAYLOB :
up this train of thought, to the vexed and difficult question
whether Plato does or does not mean to assert the origin in
time of the sensible world. The discussion of this point
would involve the detailed consideration of the Timceus and
would lead us very far from our present field of inquiry ; we
may therefore leave it on one side with the remark that the
presuppositions of the present passage, taken by itself, would
naturally lead to the affirmative answer to the question.
And this concludes what I have to say on the third hypo-
thesis.
We have now closed our direct investigation into the
conditions under which unity can be real, and we proceed
to strengthen our convictions as to what those conditions
are by a double inquiry into (a) the consequences which
the affirmation of either conception of the One entails with
respect to the attendant plurality, (6) the consequences which
will follow, both for the One and for the Many, from the
denial of each.
(a) If the One exists what can we say of the Many ?
This question is twice answered, in hypotheses 4 and 5 ; in
the first case from the point of view of hypothesis 2, in the
second from that of 1. And in the results of the inquiry we
find complete confirmation of the conclusion at which we
have already arrived. Once more we discover that on the
one conception of what the world's unity implies affirmation
and negation are alike possible, on the other alike impossible.
We will proceed to set out the rival arguments, in which,
after our study of what has gone before, we shall find no
serious difficulties.
Hypothesis 4 (157 B-159 B). If unity is real, what about
plurality ? Our assumption is once more, as in 2, simply
that unity is one predicate of a reality which can be other-
wise determined. Thus the hypothesis does not deny, but
rather for us who have the results of 2 fresh in our memory,
affirms by implication the equal reality of multiplicity. We
assume then that the Many of which we speak are real, and
from this we go on to ask if we can say anything more
definite about them. And we may say at once that while
the Many are not absolutely identical with the One, yet they
do not entirely fall outside it (ovSe yJt]v crreperai. ye iravrdtracn
rov ei/o<? raXXa a\\a fiere^et Try, 157 c). Their diversity can
no more exist apart from unity than the unity of the Real
apart from diversity. For we must conceive of the " Mani-
fold " as of a number of parts forming a whole. And the
whole which is constituted by the manifold parts must be
itself a unity. The parts are parts not of an indefinite
ON THE INTERPRETATION OF PLATO'S PARMENfDES. 15
plurality but of a single all-embracing whole. The argu-
ment which yields this result, though perfectly intelligible,
is rather obscurely expressed, and has been most unjustly
branded by Stallbaum with the name of fallacia, so that it
may be as well to reproduce it in extenso. Each part, we
say (157 D), must be part not of a mere multiplicity but of a
single whole. For it is easy to see that if the multiplicity
of which the unit is taken to be a part does not in some way
form one coherent whole, the only way in which the unit
can be a part of it is by being a part of each separate unit
which is contained in it, and so, among others, of itself.
Thus you have to meet a dilemma. If the part be primarily
a part of each of the constituents of the multiplicity taken
by itself, you have of course conceded the point at issue ;
but if it be not a part of each and every separate constituent,
then neither is it a part of them all taken together on the
assumption, that is, that all the constituents taken together
form a mere plurality and not a single whole. This is of
course at once manifest in any concrete case. Where one
element appears to enter as a component into several inde-
pendent systems, as, for instance, when the same man is a
member of several unconnected organisations, it can only
be part of them all because it is part of them each. Thus
a man may be at one and the same time an English subject,
a Roman Catholic and a Teetotaler, but he is only all three
at once because he is also each separately. And so we may
see, in any case we choose to take, that what is a "part"
is always primarily and directly a part of some one definitely
organised whole. Or, as Plato phrases it : " Every part is
a part not of a diverse and heterogeneous multiplicity, but
of some one single reality (juta? rti/o? t'Sea? teal ei>o<? TIVOS)
which we call a whole, and which is a perfect unity consti-
tuted by all the parts ".
Thus we may say of the manifold of existence, as of
every lesser multiplicity, that it is " one complete whole
of parts," or in a word that it, like the one reality of
hypothesis 2, exists in the form of a system. And once
more (157 E-158 A), not only is this true of the whole of
existence but of every subordinate part in it. For when we
speak of " each " part our very language recognises " each "
as being itself a unity distinct from its companions. What
is not " one" cannot be called " each ". But again none of
these parts is mere undi versified unity, for they all were by
our hypothesis " other than unity" (ra\\a TOV ei/o<?). They
are therefore not identical with it, and each " part " of the
manifold, since it is neither a bare unit nor yet nothing at
16 A. E. TAYLOR :
all, is itself a manifold of lesser parts (TrXetw evo? ecrn rd re
rov evbs fj.opiov /cal ra rov 1/09 6\ov pere^ovra, 158 B). And
it follows at once that there can be no limit to this subdi-
vision ; the " parts " of the whole manifold are numerically
infinite. For (158 c) each subordinate part of the manifold
being itself the combination of unity and multiplicity, if we
take any the least part we please and make abstraction from
its aspect of unity (cricorrovvrt, avrr)v Kad' avrrjv rr)v erepav
fyvcriv rov etoovs, sc., the side of diversity), we shall find that
it contains in itself an indefinite plurality (arreipov co-rat
rr\ridei). Yet on the other hand each part is one part con-
tributing its particular share to the life of the whole, and is
thus wrought into definite systematic relations (irepas TJ&T)
e^et) to the other parts and to the whole. So that the multi-
plicity which considered in abstraction from the unity it
derives from its relations to the whole, is without limit, re-
ceivesfrom its position as one element in the single whole that
character of definiteness and limitation which would otherwise
be foreign to it. It is in fact at once infinite in one sense and
in another finite. So the Manifold turns out to be that
very systematic whole of subordinate systems with which
we have already in hypothesis 2 identified the One. Each
side, as Hegel might have said, is discovered to be itself and
its complement in one : from whichever side of the anti-
thesis you start you find in the end that it contains the
whole. It is now, of course, a mere matter of the detailed
following up of our main result to show that each and all
of the affirmative and negative judgments which we have
vindicated for the One can also be made about the Many.
They are like and yet unlike themselves and one another.
For in so far as each and all have the same quality, e.g.,
infinite divisibility, they are alike, and again in so far as
they have antagonistic qualities they are unlike. And we
may say in one word now, and without troubling ourselves
to go over the ground once more in detail (159 B), that every
result which we have proved for the One can by the same
process be shown to be true of its complement. We may
then, I think, sum up the argument of this hypothesis in
one sentence, thus : As we rescued the real One from non-
existence and unknowability by proving that it contains
diversity, so by the aid of the same principle we have now
saved the actual multiplicity of the world from the same fate
by showing that it forms a unity. Our next task, which we
shall attack in hypothesis 5, is to establish the same con-
clusion negatively by showing that the severance of unity
from diversity, which condemned the former to non-existence
ON THE INTERPRETATION OF PLATO'S PARMENIDES. 17
and unknowability, necessarily consigns the latter to the
same outer darkness.
Hypothesis 5 (159 B-160 B). We now take up the prin-
ciple of hypothesis 1, and apply it to the consideration of
the manifold, with the same consequences which there
attended its application to the One. Once more we make,
not the reality, but the merely self-identical character of
these determinations our starting-point. Unity we are to
take as unity, and never as plurality ; plurality as plurality,
and never as unity. From this basis our argument will pro-
ceed, as follows. To begin with, we must affirm the absolute
severance (j^wpi^, Socrates' old watch-word) of the One and
the Manifold. For of each we can say that it is not the
other, while the two taken together make up the totality of
thinkable existence. There can be no third nature which
falls neither under the head of the One nor under the head
of What is other than the One in which both might inhere
as predicates of the same subject, no neutral ground on
which they might meet on terms of mutual forbearance
(159 c). Still less can either appear in the domain of the
other. For the absolute One, being One and nothing but
One, can have no parts. The Manifold is therefore neither
one as a whole for that would be to identify what has j.ust
been pronounced absolutely different nor is it made up of
parts which are unities for that is to subdivide and
multiply what is, ex hypothesi, one and invisible. There is
thus no conceivable sense in which unity can be predicated
of the manifold ; it can be neither a single unit nor a collec-
tion of units. And therefore it is not even a plurality, for
every plurality is a sum of units. Nor is it only quantitative
predicates whicb are excluded from ra a\\a by this con-
clusion. It is ultimately impossible to predicate anything
whatever of the Manifold. For if any one universal
predicate can be affirmed of them they have so far just that
unity and stability which we have refused to ascribe to
them ; and if both sides of a contradiction be asserted of
them (notice ei&r) with reference to ideas of relation at 159 E)
they have it twice over. Thus neither side of any of the
antitheses can be predicated, whether positively or negatively,
of the Many. The Many because they have no unity, like
the One because it has nothing else, are the merely non-
existent and unknowable, and Plato is warranted in con-
cluding (IGOfi) with a sentence which incorporates the result
of hypothesis 1 with that at which we have just arrived. If
unity be incompatible with other predicates, then " the One
is at once everything and nothing, and the same is true of
2
18 A. E. TAYLOR :
the Many also 'V And though Plato expresses neither ap-
proval or disapproval of this result, his identification of it
with the conclusion of 1, justifies us in mentally adding
what was there said in so many words, 77 Svvarov ovv irepl
TO ev ravd^ OVTWS e^etv ; OVKOVV epoiye Sorcei (142 A).
Putting together the positive results of 2, 3, 4, and the
negative results of 1 and 5, we may notice that there is up
to a certain point a curious formal likeness between the two
sets of conclusions. On either theory of the relation of unity
to reality we have the result, as we have already seen, that
each side of the antithesis of the One and the Many turns
out to he identical with the other. But there is this differ-
ence, that in the one case this result harmonises with the
presuppositions from which it is drawn, in the other it is in
flagrant contradiction with them. And this also, that in the
one case the One and the Many coincide because each is the
same concrete system, in the other because each is the same
empty nonentity. Thus we may urge against the upholder
of an Eleatic or Megarian unity of the world the unanswer-
able argument : " Your own theory of the world involves as
much as ours that mutual implication of opposites which
you find so unthinkable : you will find yourself, if you will
only reflect on your own assumptions, as fully committed as
ourselves to the ultimate identity of the One and the Many.
The difference between us is that you are further bound to
identify them both with nothing, and such an identification
is its own refutation."
(6) We may now turn to the second or negative series
of hypotheses (6-9), which, as we shall find, correspond to
the foregoing positive hypotheses in their treatment of the
idea of the world's unity. Corresponding to the unqualified
assertion of hypotheses 1 and 5, " the only thing that is real
is the One," we shall have the equally unqualified denial,
" the One is absolutely unreal," and this proposition is, as we
shall see, discussed with reference to the One itself in
hypothesis 7 and with reference to the Manifold in
hypothesis 9. Corresponding to the modified assertion of 2,
3, 4, " Unity is one predicate of reality," we shall have a
similar qualified negation, " Unity is not the only charac-
teristic of the Real," or what is the same thing " Unity
can be determined by negative predicates," and this is, as we
1 We should surely accept Heindorf s conjectural addition of the words
(cai TO. XXa vaaiiTus in this sentence. If we retain the vulgate we get the
same sense, but the latter half of the conclusion is left to be inferred
from the former.
ON THE INTERPRETATION OF PLATO'S PARMENIDES. 19
shall find, the sense in which " not-being" is attributed to
the One in hypotheses 6 and 8. Thus the relations of the
two negative to the two positive premisses of Parmenides
will be these : the qualified negation of 6 and 8 is compatible
with, and is in fact the necessary complement of, the quali-
fied assertion of 2, 3, 4, but is the contradictory of the
absolute affirmation of 1, which it therefore excludes ; the
absolute negation of 6 and 9 is the contradictory of the
modified assertion of 2, and the contrary of the absolute
assertion of 1, and consequently excludes them both. Thus
taking 1, 2, 6 and 7 each as representative of the pair of
hypotheses to which it belongs, we may say :
If 1 be true, 2 is false, 6 is false, 7 is false.
If 1 be false, either 2 and 6 are true or 1 is true.
If 2 be true, 1 is false, 6 is true, 7 is false.
If 2 be false, 6 is false, and either 1 or 7 must be true.
This table may be of use to us in fixing the point of view
from which each of the negative hypotheses is conceived.
We now proceed to examine and interpret each in detail in
the same way as we have done hypotheses 1-5.
Hypothesis 6 (160 B-163 B). The sixth hypothesis is,
after the second of which it is the inseparable complement,
the most important contribution furnished by our dialogue
to a positive theory of the relation between the world's
unity and its multiplicity. It is also, owing to the un-
certainty of the text at one or two critical points, the
only one of the remaining arguments which presents the
slightest difficulty to a reader who has already grasped
the significance of what has preceded. I shall therefore
follow the steps of the reasoning more closely than I
have done in the case of any of the hypotheses since the
second, and I must plead the necessity of the case as
my excuse for thus prolonging an essay which has already
attained a somewhat unreadable length. And first we must
make sure that we rightly understand the meaning of the
proposition with which we are starting, el TO ev fj,tj etrrL
and its relation to the el TO ev eo-rt with which we have
hitherto been concerned.
We start then from the proposition that " the One is
non-existent". But the sequel makes it quite clear that
what is meant is not that the One has no existence at
all, but simply that it is not the only reality, and that it
can consequently have negative predicates attached to it.
This supposition can be stated in various ways, as e.g.
"There is other reality besides the One," "the One can
be negatively determined," and, in still more technically
20 A. E. TAYLOE :
logical language, " negative judgments need not be with-
out significance". And thus regarded the non-existence of
the One has already been implied in the conclusions of
hypothesis 2. For there we saw that (a) the Many are real,
as well as the One, (b) another way of expressing the
same truth whatever can be affirmed about reality can
also in an appropriate sense be denied of it. So that the
discussion on which we are now to enter and its con-
tinuation in hypothesis 8 are of vital interest for our in-
terpretation of the dialogue. For it is an independent
investigation into the results of a presupposition to which
we have ahead}' tacitly committed ourselves in rejecting
the first for the second interpretation of the world's unity ;
and hence it is all-important for us to be convinced that
from this negative as well as from that positive aspect of
it our conception of that unity is compatible with the
possibility of every form of significant predication. That
it is so compatible we establish at length in the following
way.
When we say " the One is uon-existeiit " do we or
do we not mean the same thing as when we say " the
Not-one is non-existent " ? It is of course clear that we
mean entirely different things by the two propositions.
Similarly, if one says " smallness " or "greatness" is non-
existent he means something quite different from what
is said in either of the two former judgments. So that we
may say in general that the judgment " the One is not " is
a judgment about a subject which is not identical w T ith other
subjects, and that this judgment has a meaning. We may
lay it down at once then of the non-existent One, as of
any other subject of a negative judgment, (a) that it is known
and knowable ; for otherwise the judgment would mean
nothing, and (6) that it is something different from all other
possible subjects of judgments ; for the difference we assert
between it and them belongs no less to it than to them.
Or still more generally, we may say that like an}' other sub-
ject it has quality of its own and can therefore be denoted
by the various demonstratives "this," "that," and that it
has relation to other things and can thus be qualified by
the prepositions which denote such relations, " to," " of,"
" from" (KOI fjurjv rov ye eiceivov KCLI TOV TWOS KOI TOVTOU
quality teal rovro) KOI rovrutv relation /cai iravrwv TWV
ToiovTotv /tere^et TO /IT) ov ev, 160 E). Thus, though
we still feel ourselves precluded from saying of the
non-existent One that it is without further qualification,
we may, and if we mean anything definite by the name One
ON THE INTERPKETATION OF PLATO'S PARMENIDES. 21
we must, assert its " participation " in a great variety of
attributes and predicates. While, if the subject of our
negative judgment cannot be denned as the One nor yet
as anything else which is a that with its own special " that-
ness " (el jjLevroi fArjre TO ei> /LLIJTC eiCfstvo ,u?} ecrrat 161 A),
we can make of course no significant statement at all about
it, and are reduced to speechlessness (ovSe (frOeyyeaBai, Bel
ovSev). We may now attempt to enumerate in detail some
of the predicates which we have by this argument vindicated
for the One. Among the most obvious are likeness and
unlikeness. For we have already seen that the One, even
though it be negatively qualified, is other than the rest of
thinkable subjects. And being other it is qualitatively dif-
ferent (inference from erepoc elvat to erepolov elva/.), but what
is different is of course unlike. Thus the One, even if it be
not = the Real, stands in the relation of unlikeness to other
things. Yet again, in another relation, the One has like-
ness. For it is clear that it cannot remain the permanent
subject of discourse and inquiry without being throughout
" like " itself, otherwise we should find ourselves discussing
not the One but something other than the One. Again, the
One is unequal to other things : were it equal to them, it
would be and be like them, both of which qualifications we
deny of it. It is therefore not equal to anything else and
is positively unequal and "partakes" of inequality. But
that which is unequal to other things is greater or smaller
than they. The non-existent One can therefore be greater
and smaller than other things, and " partakes of " greatness
and smallness. Therefore, of course, since what is greater
than A and less than B must be equal to something inter-
mediate between them, the One may also be said to " par-
take of " equality, in spite of our former decision to the
contrary (161 E).
On the course of the argument up to this point there is
no need to remark at any length. Its logical and meta-
physical interest centres of course in the steps by which we
reach the general conclusion that even a negatively deter-
mined reality "has many predicates". It was perhaps the
greatest service ever rendered to logic by one man that
Plato performed when he showed, here and in the Sophistes,
that to say "A is not B " does not exclude A from being
something else, and in fact that "not to be B " simply means
" to be something different from B ". And this service to logic
was at the same time an equal service to metaphysics. For
so long as " riot-being " is taken to mean utter unreality, not
only do the commonest negative judgments of everyday life
22 A. E. TAYLOR :
become unmeaning, but we are led directly to that severance
of the real from the actual and apparent, with the evil fruits
of which the present dialogue has made us sufficiently
familiar. It is certain that reality, as it comes to us in
perception at any moment, is not full and ultimate reality,
and thus if whatever has any element of negation and unre-
ality about it must be nothing, the whole sensible world
at once disappears. The same is true of the world of Ideal
Forms : for one " Idea " is not another ; thus it is not the
whole of reality, and therefore from this point of view is not
real at all. It is from such difficulties as these that Plato's
doctrine of fjn'] oi> as here set forth delivers us, by resolving
negation into difference, and so preparing the way for two
conceptions of the utmost philosophic importance : (1) the
conception of reality as possessing various grades or degrees
which is made so prominent in the Republic and Philebus, 1
(2) the true conception of error and falsehood, not as the
assertion of the absolutely non-existent and unmeaning, but
as a confusion of different kinds of reality. (Falsitas in
absoluta privatione consistere nequit . . . neque etiam in
absoluta ignorantia. Spinoza, Ethica, ii., 35.)
Of the meaning of the various predicates which are now
successively asserted and denied of the " non-existent " One
I have said all that I think necessary in connexion with the
parallel demonstration of hypothesis 2, and shall not there-
fore repeat what I have there observed. I have also pointed
out in the same place the mistakes which beset the argument :
(1) the treatment of a relation between two terms as a mere
adjective qualifying one of them, and (2) the inference from
the absence of " equality " between two things to the pre-
sence of other quantitative relations or vice versa. The
logical character of this last confusion is made more apparent
in the present passage by the introduction of a fresh step in
the reasoning. At 150 D we went directly from the absence
of "greatness" and "smallness" to the presence of "equality,"
and we were content to note that there was a logical blunder
of some kind involved in the process without stopping to
specify it. Here in 161 CD the nature of the fallacy is
made manifest by the interpolation into the corresponding
reverse argument of an "Idea of inequality" (dvia-oTijTos
TO ei/), and it is now clear that, unless everything
1 Whatever be the date of the Parmenides and Sophistes, the conception
of not-being here set forth must have been clearly present to Plato's
mind when he wrote Rep., 583-586, where the distinction of degrees in
reality plays so important a part.
OX THE INTERPRETATION OF PLATO'S PARMENIDES. 23
that is real has some quantitative determinations, we have
treated a mere '"infinite" negative, whose only meaning is
the absence of a " Form," as though it were itself a " Form"
with a definite and ascertainable character of its own. The
mistake is beyond palliation, but its repeated occurrence in
the hypotheses is enough to show that, at the time of writing
the Parmenides at least, Plato had none of that dislike of
" negative Ideas " which is so properly felt by Aristotle and
Mr. Archer-Hind.
The culmination of the argument of Parmenides, as far
as its logical and metaphysical value is concerned, is reached
at 162 A, where he formally draws the inference to which he
has throughout been leading up, " the non-existent One must
even in some sense have reality, and must exist ". For we
hold that the propositions we have hitherto made about it
are true ; that is they are statements of reality. Thus we
may say, attaching the fullest sense to our words, " the One
is non-existent ". If we deny this, we must be prepared to
assert " the One is not non-existent," and to say this is to
affirm its existence even more unreservedly than we have
now done. 1 "So," continues Parmenides, "it must have
being-non-existent as a bond of not-being, just as being
must have not-being-non-existent (as a bond of being) if it
is to be perfectly real. For thus that which is would most
truly be, and that which is not most truly not be, if that
which is has the positive property of being existent and the
negative property of not being non-existent, while that which
is not has the positive property of being non-existent and the
negative property of not being existent." If we bear in
mind that the non-existence of which we are speaking is the
relative unreality of being negatively determined, not the
absolute non-existence which, as we have seen, has no
meaning, we may, I think, venture to paraphrase this some-
what cryptic sentence thus. Logically, of a subject with a
positive predicate you can assert, positively, its possession of
that predicate, negatively, the absence of any determination
which would be incompatible with it ; of a subject negatively
determined you can always deny any proposed attribute
which involves the removal of the previous negation, and
positively, you can always affirm the presence of a real
ground for the negation. Thus every affirmation affords
1 The Greek is f i yap ^r] tcrrai fj.f) oi>, aXXn rt rov fivai avrfffft irpbs TO
fj.ll flfiu (i.e., if it exchanges such qualified existence for non-existence)
fi-ftvy fa-rai ov. My paraphrase of this difficult sentence is virtually a
translation of Proclus in loc.
24 A. E. TAYLOE :
a basis for exclusion and every negation must rest on a
positive ground, and consequently affirmation and negation
always presuppose one another, and are connected, as we may
say, 8ea-/j.u> rwi. Or, to translate the result from logic into
metaphysics, the reality which we affirm in any positive
judgment is always a part only, never the whole, of reality,
and has therefore an aspect of unreality, while that which
in any significant negative judgment we exclude from reality
has nevertheless a reality of its own.
Thus we have clearly enunciated the important principle,
which even to-day would be taken in some quarters, as it no
doubt was at Megara, as a jest or a paradox, that there is no
fancy, even in our wildest dreams, so nugatory and illusory as
not to find its own humble place in the all-embracing system of
truth and reality, nor any conception which we can form, in
our moments of highest and truest thinking, of the contents
of that system which will not fall short of its fulness. The
bearing of such a principle on the relation of the Ideal world
or any one Idea of them all to the corresponding sense-
reality is obvious. It does away once and for ever with such
double-edged applications of the principle of Identity as
there is reason to believe the Megarian school were addicted
to. So long as the principle of Identity was taken in all its
rigidity as a first axiom of thought, it was equally easy for
the acute controversialist either, taking his stand on the
reality of the Ideas, to condemn the sensible world (Sophistes,
246-9), or, starting with the reality of the sensible world, to
reject the ideas as he pleased. 1 We now see that neither
proceeding is justifiable. The One whether interpreted to
mean the world-system itself or any lesser system of parts,
such as the individual Idea is of course real, but it cannot be
real unless the Many the sensible world of change and
plurality is so also (hyp. 2) : the sensible world actually is,
and so far the Ideas are negated, but that is no proof of their
unreality (hyp. 6), for what has negative qualifications is,
ipso facto, real, and there is no reason why it should not be
the highest reality. When once we have grasped this great
principle, the following of it out in detail is a matter of very
secondary importance. For the sake of completeness, how-
ever, and in order to make it perfectly clear to the reader in
what sense I understand every paragraph of the dialogue,
I will present a brief abstract of the remainder of the
hypothesis (162 B-163 B).
1 For a Megarian argument of the latter kind cf. Diog. L., ii., 119.
Stilpo eXeyt TOV Aryoi/ra (ivdptairov \f-yfiv [Jirjftfva, ovrt yap T<iv8f \eyfiv nvre
ON THE INTERPRETATION OF PLATO'S PARMEXIDES. 25
It should be noticed first of all that Plato is careful to
mark the intimate connexion of the present argument with
the great second hypothesis by reverting here, and here only,
to the principle which had been laid down in 3, the annexe
and continuation of 2. That principle is once more, for the
second and last time in the dialogue, affirmed at 162 B. The
One, we began by assuming, "is not"; that is, it can have
negative predicates, and so is not the only reality : also, as
we have seen, '' it is " ; that is, because you can say something
negatively you must also be able to say something positively
about it. Thus, it " partakes " both of being and not-being.
Consequently, just as was argued at 155 E-156 A, these two
complementary sides of its full nature will fall apart in time.
It will, in fact, change. And change is movement {/j,7a/3o\r}
Be Kiwrja-ts}. " The One " is thus once more shown to be the
exact reverse of that "moveless and changeless holy image"
of Eleatic and Megarian adoration ; its life, far from being
an unbroken eternity of empty self-sameness, involves the
repeated transition from affirmation to negation, from felt
and present unity to an existence which, while still real, is
to perception lost and suspended in indefinite plurality. In
experience it is sometimes the unity of the system, but also
sometimes the immense variety and complexity of its parts,
which obtrudes itself upon our notice. And yet there is
also a sense in which we may deny all we have just affirmed.
For the One not only is, but, by hypothesis, it also is not.
Not only, that is, is the one reality that which makes itself
known to us in every moment of our experience ; it is also
that which is never and at no moment in its fulness present
to us. And viewed in this light it is one and changeless.
For it (a) is nowhere, and consequently cannot undergo
change of place ; and (6) it is not contained in anything
(TO fjir) ov ev TW TWV ovra)v dBvvaTov elvai, 162 D), and con-
sequently cannot rotate. Nor (c) can the One, regarded as
the ultimate unity of all things, know qualitative change ;
were it to alter its character it would no longer be the One.
Thus we may assert with equal right (a) the one reality
includes change and motion ; (6) the one reality is changeless
and motionless (163 A). Becoming and decay will, of course,
follow the fate and share the fortunes of change and motion.
So that finally the " One," even though we attach negative
predicates to it, may be said in one sense to experience, in
another sense not to experience, becoming and decay. With
this result our demonstration is complete (163 B). We have
faced the difficulty which was already latent in 2, and shown
that the partial negation of the One which was there implied
26 A. E. TAYLOR :
not only does not lead to the reversal of the positive results
there established, but actually demands their affirmation.
We are next to see what the opposite interpretation of the
negative judgment involves, and once more to learn that on
the view which treats unity and diversity, being and not-being,
as incompatibles the content of knowledge and existence
vanishes into nothing.
Hypothesis 1 (163 B-164 B). " The One" does not exist :
what folios ? We now understand our premiss in an absolute
sense. " There is no such thing as the One." And the con-
sequences which now become necessary can be rapidly and
easily traced. When we say " A is not," we mean to deny
A's reality. That is, we mean to deny its existence not with
qualifications but absolutely and in toto. The non-existent
A is to be = nothing. And of course the merely non-existent
can neither enter upon a reality which is irreconcilable with
its own utter nothingness, nor renounce an existence which,
it has never possessed, so that becoming and decay are alike
impossible for the non-existent One. And what neither
begins nor ceases to be in any sense undergoes no change
and no motion. Therefore, change and motion must be
denied of the non-existent One. But it is equally im-
possible to attribute to it rest or self-maintenance. For
rest, as we saw in connexion with the first hypothesis,
means remaining "in the same place," or "in the same re-
lations ". But how can that which is merely and utterly
unreal be in any "place," or stand in any "relations"?
And finally, to cut a long story short, we may say directly
that none of the predicates which are enjoyed by real things
can belong to the One, " if it does not exist" ; for to possess
any predicate would be, so far, to be real and to exist. It
has therefore neither (a) quantitative nor (6) qualitative
relations to itself nor to anything else. From which we can
at once infer (164 A) that nothing else has any relations with
it. And the ultimate conclusion is once more, as in hypo-
thesis 1, that the One is the merely unreal and unknowable.
" There is neither science, belief, sense-perception, discourse,
nor name " of the One, unless the One is real. And so we
see, though Plato does not express!} 7 call our attention to
this delicate piece of iron} 7 , that whether you say the One is
the absolute and only reality (hypothesis 1), or that it is
the merely unreal (hypothesis 7), it is all one ; in either
case your adhesion to the principle of Identity, which led
you to assert in hypothesis 1 that " what is One can be
nothing but One," and in hypothesis 7 " what is unreal
in any sense is unreal through and through," compels you
ON THE INTERPRETATION OF PLATO'S PARMESIDKS. 27
to admit that the One is so utterly unreal that it is not even
so much as the " baseless fabric" of a philosopher's imagina-
tion. And this conclusion, though inevitable on the pre-
misses, sounds rather strained even in the mouth of an
avowed Pluralist, while in an Eleatic or a Megarian it would
be " rank blasphemy ".
Our original task has now drawn practically to its con-
clusion. There remain only two brief and subsidiary hy-
potheses to analyse. We have still to ask ourselves (1)
How does the recognition of TO eVs partial participation
in negation affect our knowledge of rd a\\a? (2) Even
if we agree, in consequence of the conclusions of 1
and 7, to give up the existence of the One or the Ideas
altogether, is it not still open to us to take our stand on the
reality and knowability of the sensible world ? Why, it may
be asked, should the proof that an Eleatic or semi-Eleatic
One is a vox nihili establish the existence of a Platonic
One ? Why not dispense with a One, or a systematic unity
of the world, altogether and content ourselves with such
knowledge as we can get of the manifold and infinitely
varying world of sense-particulars ? In hypothesis 8
we have Plato's answer to (1) ; in hypothesis 9 the final
refutation of (2).
Hypothesis 8 (164 B-165 D). Eeverting to the pre-
supposition of 6 we ask, "If the One can be subject to
negative predicates, and so far non-existent, what con-
sequences does this entail upon ra a\\a ? " Or, translating
into rather less indefinite language, " If w r e abstract from
the world of perception, or from any subordinate part of
it, its character of systematic unity, and consider only the
aspect of multiplicity, what appearance will it present to
us ? " This question, it must be carefully observed, is quite
different in spirit though not in form from that which is
propounded in the one hypothesis which is yet to follow.
There the absolute unreality of ideal or systematic unity,
here its merely relative non-existence, is the presupposition
of the argument. That hypothesis raises the question what
the world looks like, or ought to look like, to a man who
flatly denies that it possesses any ideal unity at all, and
is consistent in his denial ; here the question is how the
world will appear to us so long as we fail to take into
account, not deny, its systematic unity. Consequently,
while we shall find in the ninth hypothesis the paradoxical
conclusions of a rigorously consistent pluralism, we have
in the eighth an acute analysis of the inconsequences in
which everyday "common-sense" reflexion on the course
28 A. E. TAYLOR :
of the world is content to rest. The hypothesis is, in fact,
perhaps the clearest account in the whole of the Platonic
writings of that confused and unsj^stematised result of ex-
perience which, taken at varying levels of reflexion, he
opposes, under the names of Sofa and cua-Brja-is, to the co-
herent understanding of the world as an ordered whole
which alone he calls eirurr^iuri scientific knowledge. This
confused " common -sense," we must remember, is some-
thing very different from the error which results from the
resolute adoption of an utterly perverted philosophical prin-
ciple. It is all very well so far as it goes ; only the pity
of it is that it doesn't go very far. Still of course it is not
mere delusion or nonsense. For most men, and on some
subjects, such as e.g. cosmology (Timceus, 28), even for
the Platonic philosopher, it is the only available guide, and
it would be folly to disregard it. We have seen (151 D) at
the end of the second hypothesis that it is, in some degree,
an apprehension of the one reality, but it is a most waver-
ing and perplexed apprehension. It may be described in
outline much as follows. AVe are to suppose ourselves face
to face with a world of objects in which we have not learned
as yet to detect the unity of plan or organisation. How
will it appear to us? First of all, it will most certainly
appear as a plurality, and as exhibiting diversity. But
diversity from what ? Not from the ultimate unity, for
that ex lujpothesi is not within the scope of our thinking
(rov fiev yap ez^o? ovtc ecnai a\\a, fjirj OI/TO? 76, 164 c).
The diversity will therefore be internal. Our world will
seem to be a vast multitude of objects, each differing from
all the others. And the same will be true if we analyse
what seem to be its individual constituents. Each object,
on closer inspection, will be found itself to consist of smaller
parts, and these again of parts still smaller, and so on to
infinity. Thus, in the absence of such a unity as is given
to our apprehension of the different parts of a machine or
an organism by their relation to the system of the whole,
we shall have a world of countless different objects, each
of which may if we chose to go no farther with our in-
spection of it seem to be a unit, but must also, on close
examination, confess itself an unlimited plurality, or, as
Plato calls it, an cty/fo?, a mere indefinite " heap "- 1 And in
the same way, these apparent units will seem to be capable
of being numbered ; but it will be mere seeming, for there
1 Cf. for the happy use of the term Hume's " heap or collection
of perceptions ".
ON THE INTERPRETATION OF PLATO'S PAEMENIDES. 29
are no real units there to be numbered. Again we shall
seem to have carried our subdivision to its utmost limit,
and to have found a " least part " (e.g. an " atom "), which
we can if we will treat as the unit ; while yet again this
unitary " least part " will itself contain an indefinite number
of parts, in comparison with which it will itself seem many
and large. From which it follows that, if we take each
from the suitable point of view, the " whole " and the
" part " will appear equal to one another (165 A, ica-l i'cro?
fj.i]i> TO?? TroXXot? Kal oyu/epot<?, sc., its own parts, e/cacrro?
OJKOS 8o^aadt)(7erai elvai ov 'yap av pertftuivev etc /netbz'os 19
\arrov (f>aiv6fji,vo<t Trplv et? TO yLterafi) So^eiv e\6eiv, i.e., since
you can by judicious arrangement make an object A which
normally appears several times as great as B look less than
B, it is clear that by the proper arrangement you can also
make them seem equal). So again, one " heap " will seem,
but will only seem, to be itself an ordered system (Trepa?
e;\;aji' 7rpo<? eavTov) or a part of such a system (Trepas e-^wv
?rpo? a\\ov O'JKOV}, while on a closer inspection we shall
find that the appearance was an illusion. We can find a
" beginning" before every " beginning," a " middle " which
is in the midst of every " middle," an " end " after every
" end," and so on in indefinitum. For without units there
can be no such thing as system. So altogether, whatever
object one tries to think, it vanishes away, for lack of its
interpretation as an organic unity, that is as an idea, into an
infinite multiplicity of infinitesimals. And we may say of
every such object that while it seems when seen from a
distance and by a short-sighted spectator to be one, the
keener insight which studies it at close quarters (eyyvQev Be
Kal b%v VOOVVTI) detects its indefinite multiplicity.
So, recapitulating our conclusions, we find once more, on
our present hypothesis, that we can both assert and deny the
seeming unity and systematic character of any and every
object. Similarly we can predicate both likeness and unlike-
ness of our "heaps ". Viewed from a distance they all look
to be alike and to be very much the same thing, but when you
examine them more minutely you find they are full of
diversity and unlikeness. And so, concludes Parmenides,
we can easily show that the " heaps " touch and do not touch
each other, are all in motion and all at rest, come into and
pass out of being, and yet again neither become nor pass
away. And with this declaration the eighth hypothesis
comes to an end.
The hypothesis we have gone through has clearly a
double function. (1) It serves to confirm us in our prefer-
30 A. E. TAYLOR :
ence for that interpretation of the world's unity from which
it is deduced, by showing that it leaves room for the relative
truth of the everyday judgment of sense and its elaboration
into non-philosophical physical science ; and (2) it affords a
clear and striking picture of the perplexities which beset
this non-philosophic thought in its attempts to be consistent
with itself. Xo better description has ever, so far as I know,
been given of the baffling aspect the world must wear for an
understanding which, failing to grasp the conception of its
organic unity as a systematic interrelation of systems, has
to take spatial continuity for unity, and the vague sense of
"likeness" and " unlikeness " for identity and difference.
On this topic I have, however, said all that seemed necessary
a few pages back ; I will only add two other remarks. (1)
That it will help us to appreciate the hypothesis better if we
think of the transformations produced in the appearance of
familiar objects when seen under the microscope (compare
Plato's own image at 165 c, iroppwOev opwv-n . . . eyyvdev VOOVVTL
/rrX). (2) That the description of the OJKOL of this hypothesis
is by itself enough to show that the ra ci\\a of the dialogue
represent the sensible world (see above, MIND, vol. v., pp.
483-4).
The ninth and last hypothesis (165 E-166 c) need not
occupy us very long. It starts once more from the proposi-
tion "the One has no reality," "there is no such thing as
the One". That is, it makes the assumption of a thorough-
going sensationalistic Pluralism, and proceeds to draw a
sketch of the world as it must consistently be thought of on
such a theory. And we see that the world of indefinite
plurality itself is for the consistent Pluralist unthinkable.
For we admit that the manifold are in no sense one ; and it
is not very hard to see that for the same reason they cannot
be many. For a manifold is a multiplicity of ones. Nothing
added to nothing ever so many times will not produce any-
thing but itself (165 E). Thus ra a\\a are on the Pluralism's
hypothesis neither one nor many. Nor can we even fall
back on the results of the last hypothesis, and say they
appear to be one or many. For we have pledged ourselves
to the entire and utter unreality of unity. We are therefore
not in a position to allow it even the subordinate reality of
being an object of " fancy " or " opinion ". What is nothing
at all cannot even be a philosopher's day-dream. Thus not
even in delusive appearance does the world seem to be either
one or many. And a similar criticism may be passed on
every other positive or negative predicate that is proposed
for our acceptance. If unity be unreal, so is everything else.
ON THE INTEEPKETATION OF PLATO 'S PARMENIDES. 31
In short, we may truly say, if unity do not exist nothing
exists (166 c). So, summing up into one enigmatic phrase
the results of all the hypotheses, Parmenides concludes :
'' We may say it seems, that whether the One exist or not,
both it and the Manifold in every way, in relation both to
themselves and to each other, are and are not, appear and do
not appear ". To which the perplexed interlocutor can only
reply, " Just so ".
We may now properly subjoin to the detailed examina-
tion of the foregoing arguments such a tabulated statement
of their inner relation to one another as we declined to
supply at the opening of the discussion. And first we may
say that, if our reading of the individual hypotheses has been
correct in its main features, the purpose aimed at and
attained by Parmenides has been the tracing out to their
logical conclusions two opposite and mutually exclusive
views of the nature of the world's unity. One of these views
is that which treats that unity as the one and only reality,
and proceeds in reliance on the principle of Identity to
stigmatise whatever is other than it as non-existent. The
other view, starting not from the formal principle of Identity,
but from the more practical axiom that the unity of the
world must at least be real, leads on the other hand to the
recognition of plurality, diversity, motion, and change as
essential to its existence and inseparable from it. And the
final outcome of our lengthy inquiry has been that on the
first view, just as much as on that opposite theory which
treats all unity as a fiction, affirmation, negation, knowledge,
opinion, and discourse itself are all impossible, while on the
second all are possible, and all, in their varying degrees,
reflect the nature of the real. Or, to set the results of the
individual hypotheses out in tabular form :
Hypotheses 1 and 5 investigate the consequences of the
first theory, and 7 and 9 those of the corresponding
negation. Hypotheses 2, 3, 4, 6, 8, examine from
all points of view the implications of the second
theory.
In particular :
1 and 5 show that if the reality of TO ev be taken as
meaning that everything else is unreal, predication is
impossible, whether the subject be TO ev (1) or any-
thing else (5). 7 and 9 show that similarly if TO eV
have no reality at all, predication, whether about
TO ev (7) or anything else (9), is impossible.
2 and its corollary 3 show for TO ev and 4 for ra a\\a
that predication is possible, and that conflicting pre-
32 A. E. TAYLOR :
dicates can both be true, if TO ei''s reality do not
exclude the reality of ra aXXa.
6 and 8 show that TO ev may have negatives attached to
it and yet predication remain possible. In particular,
6 shows that TO ev can have predicates of a positive
kind, even though it have also negative ones ; 8, that
even if TO ev be thought of as negatively determined,
or be not rightly apprehended, yet so long as its
existence is not absolutely denied, things will have
an apparent unity, and admit of assertions being
made about them, though these assertions will not
rise to the level of real knowledge.
Bringing these various results together, I think we may
venture to say that the object of the second part of the
Parmenides has now been shown to be this : to demonstrate
that the crude Idealism which places reality in a mere
undiversified unit)', and the crude Sensationalism which finds
it in mere chaotic diversity, alike end, when thought out, in
speculative Nihilism, and to justify against both, as the true
interpretation of the world, a theory which, while refusing
to regard the multiplicity and change of sense-perception as
the ultimate truth of things, yet looks upon it as a necessary
and indispensable element in the whole. The truth of things
lies in the Ideas, but they are not, as the opposite view
supposed, in a world of their own, nor is the phenomenal
world simply unreal ; it is the sphere in which the Ideas
manifest themselves, and, just as the sensible world would
be nothing but for its " participation" in the Ideas, so the Idea
would be equally nothing but for its permeating presence in
the actual world of experience. In the Parmenides, in fact,
as in the Sophistes, we find Plato defending his own view of
the world against attack from two quarters. He has to
answer (a) the philosophers .who recognise the sensible as
the only reality, and attempt to dispense altogether with the
Ideas. And in the Parmenides the refutation on this side
must be sought in the eighth and ninth hypotheses. In 8,
where we have, as I have shown in the proper place, Plato's
own account of Soga, we see the perplexities to which the
neglect of the Idea (cf. Soph., 246 B, ra e eKeivwi- aw^ara KO.\
rrjv ^eyo/jLevrjv L/TT' avrwv d\ij@etav Kara o-ptKpa SiaOpavovTes ei>
rot<? \6<yoi<> yevccriv avr^ ovoias (f)po/Aei>rjv rivet TrptKrayopevovtriv)
and in 9 the ultimate speechlessness to which its consistent
rejection must lead. Plato has also (6) to meet the believers
in the " changeless and moveless " bodiless Idea as the sole
reality, and it is to them that the chief part of the dialogue
(hyp. 1-6) is allotted. And the moral of the whole cannot
ON THE INTERPRETATION OF PLATO'S PARMENIDES. 33
be better summed up than in the following sentence (Soph.,
249 c), part of which I have already quoted elsewhere.
" The philosopher . . . must then, as it seems, refuse to be
persuaded, whether by believers in the One or in a plurality
of Ideas, that the universe is motionless, while to those who
make motion ultimate he must not even listen ; he must say,
to borrow a phrase from the children's game, that the Keal
and the Universe are both ' moving and not moving
(TOJ Srj (f>i\o<r6(f)(i) . . . Trdaa, &><? eoifcev, avdyKf} 8td Tavra piJTe
TOiV ei> rj Kal ra 7ro\\d eiSr] \e<yovTa>v, TO irav ea-rrj/cbs diro-
8e^cr0ai, TOJV Se av Travra'xf) TO bv KIVOVVTWV ^Se TO Trapdjrav
dicoveiv, a\\a Kara rrjv TWV irai^wv ev^rjv, oaa dtcivrjTa Kal
KeKivTjfteva, TO 6v re ical TO Trav ^vvafJifyoTepa \eyeiv).
There are two more points to which I should like to
refer very briefly, and I will then bring this essay to a
close.
I have throughout made a historical assumption which
perhaps calls for a word of justification. As far as the
meaning of the dialogue is concerned it is, of course, of
very minor importance who was its author and who were
the persons against whom the polemic was directed. For
the purposes of interpretation we have to take the argu-
ment in its universal sense, and so long as we are successful
in ascertaining what theory it upholds and what theory it
attacks, it cannot much matter to us as commentators on
the Parmenides, though it would to an editor of the " Pla-
tonis Opera Omnia," whether it was Plato, or another,
who advocated the one set of conclusions and combated
the other. I have however all along assumed (a) that
the conclusions of the dialogue are those of Plato, and
(6), though less confidently, that the views which are
criticised unfavourably in the first part and most of the
second part are those of the Megarians. On both these
points I ought perhaps to say something in my own defence.
(a) As to the first point, it will be noticed that the only
other "Platonic" composition of which I have made any
considerable use for the elucidation of the Parmenides is
the Sophistes, a work the authenticity of which admittedly
stands or falls with that of the present dialogue. It might
therefore seem perfectly consistent with my interpretation
of the dialogue to hold that it is either spurious, or at any
rate together with the Sophistes represents an exceptional
and merely temporary development of Plato's thought. As
against both these views, the full consideration of which
would require a second essay at least as long as the present,
I will just add two references, one to the Ptiilebus and one
3
34 A. E. TAYLOR :
to the Republic, which may serve to bring out the vital
connexion between the abstract logical categories of the
Parmenides and the more concrete forms of Platonic
thought with which we are all familiar. At the beginning
of the Philebus there is a striking passage which recalls
the paradoxes of the Parmenides so closely that it is almost
impossible not to regard it as a piece of conscious self-
criticism. 1 At Philebus, 14 c, Socrates is led to attack the
problem, which, as he says, " troubles us all," of the re-
lation between One and Many. In further specifying the
manner in which the question should be discussed, he first
(14 D) sets aside, just as he had done in the Parmenides, the
vulgar puzzles which arise from the combination of unity
and plurality in the sensible world. These puzzles and
the paradoxes founded on them are ra
davfMaarrwv Trepl TO ev teal TroXXa,
eVo? elirelv inro irdvrcav 77877 fj,r) Seiv rwv roiovrwv
7raiSapi(i)8r) KOI paSta rcai a~<f)6$pa rots \6yoi$ /j,7r6$ia
vTTo\a[j,(3av6vT(i)v yvyvea-Qai (14 D). His concern in the Phi-
lebus, as in the Parmenides, is with the ideal unities them-
selves. And about these unities there are still, as there
were in the Parmenides, two questions : (1) Do they exist ?
(15 B, Trp&rov fj,ev el' rti>a<? Sel roiavras elvat /u,oi>aSa? KT\).
(2) How is their unity compatible with their presence in the
countless particulars'? This last question is the standing diffi-
culty of philosophy (irepl . . . rwv roiovrfov 77 TTO\\IJ (nrovSij
fjLera &iaip6<TQ)s d/j.<f)ia'l3ijri]O'i<; r yi i yveraL, B. TOUT' ecrri TO, Trepi ra
roiavra ev Kai 7ro\\a . . . airacff]^ aTropias atria fj,ij /caXeo?
opdXoyrjQevTa real evTropias av /caXai?, c). When it first dawns
on a young man he feels that he has discovered a veritable
treasure-trove of wisdom, and in his delight in his own skill
can never rest from perplexing himself and every one else
with his demonstrations that the One is Many and the
Many are One (15 E). But the task of the true philosopher,
in dealing with the difficulty, is a more laborious one (1(5 D E).
He must not content himself with showing that each ideal
One is also an indefinite plurality ; his work is to reduce that
plurality to order by once more detecting in it subordinate
unities as often as may be possible, and so to substitute for the
abstract categories of unity and plurality a graduated hier-
archy of higher and lower unities. That is, it is not enough
to perceive that there is system in the world unless you go
on to ascertain the contents of the various systems and their
1 Apelt also notices the similarity, but does not draw from it the
inference which I am inclined to do. Beitraye, p. 33.
ON THE INTERPRETATION OF PLATO'S PARMENIDES. 35
relations to one another. Thus in the Philebus we have (1)
the recognition of the same two questions which Parmenides
had raised at the beginning of our dialogue as the chief
problems of metaphysics ; (2) a somewhat depreciatory de-
scription of the solution which is all our dialogue offers ; (3)
and a substitution for it of a solution by a new and more
detailed method, which is no other than the 8iaip<ri<; xar
e'lBtj so familiar to us from the Sophistes and Politicus. The
gist of the whole passage will be that the mere demonstra-
tion of the mutual implication of unity and plurality with
which the Parmenides ends is only the beginning of philo-
sophy ; the real task which has to be faced is that of con-
structing a systematic arrangement of ei8r), a specimen of
which is given in the Sophistes. Thus the passage of the
Philebus, besides affording some testimony to the genuine-
ness of the Parmenides, seems to go a long way towards
justifying the unwillingness I have more than once expressed
to assign the dialogue to the same period of Plato's life with
the Sophistes and Politicus. There is one more famous
passage in the Philebus, which, taken in connexion with the
still more famous passage on the same subject in the
Republic, may throw light on the meaning of Plato's ev in
the Parmenides. I mean the description of the supreme
reality, the " Form of Good ". We learn from Philebus, 65 A,
that the " Good " can only be apprehended by us under the
threefold forms of (a) beauty, (6) symmetry, (c) truth, while,
as every one knows, we are told in the Repbulic (509) that
the " Good," though the source not only of knowledge but
even of reality to whatever can be known and is real, is
itself something higher and greater than knowledge and
even than reality. Now, putting on one side all that these
passages tell us of the concrete content of the " Good," what
can we gather from them as to its logical form ? It is clearly
one and indivisible ; at the same time as a unity it is beyond
our power of comprehension, and appears to our under-
standing in the form of an elaborate system of systems
(Philebus'). And just this and nothing else is the specific
character of that " One," in which the Parmenidean hypo-
theses have led us to believe. It also is by hypothesis most
truly one, yet it too only exists for us as manifesting itself
in indefinite plurality ; its existence, again, like that of the
" Good," is the condition not only of knowledge but even of
the existence of everything else. So that I think we shall
not be going too far if we describe the " One " of hypotheses
2 and 6 as the Platonic " Idea of Good," seen in its purely
logical aspect as the supreme unity of all existence.
36 A. E. TAYLOR :
(b) I have already more than once hinted that I believe
the polemic of the Parmenides to be in the main directed
against the Megarian philosophy. I will now produce my
reasons for this view. And first I should like to point out
that the Idealist theory, as formulated by Socrates at p. 129,
was already at least semi-Megarian in character. This is, I
think, placed beyond a doubt by a comparison of Farm.,
129 ff., with the criticism, at Soph., 246 ff., of the elS<oi> <f>i\oi,
who can hardly be other than the historical Megarians. The
peculiar features of the view examined at Soph., 246, the
sharp severance between the unseen and bodiless Idea and
the visible world, with the consequent opposition of " per-
ception " and " thinking," and the ruthless banishment of
change and motion from the real to the phenomenal sphere
which calls forth the severe rebuke of 249 c, all agree so
exactly and even verbally with the position of the Par-
menidean Socrates (cf. ra opwpeva contrasted with ra
Farm., 129 E, 135 E, with Soph., 246 B, vorjra KOI
acr(i)/j.ara ei&rj . . . e dopdrov TOTTOV, ib., . . . crcafjiari /j.ev
rj/j-ds yevea-et, 8t' cucr#/;o-e&)9 Koivwvelv, 248 A ; Farm., 132 D,
ra fjiev 6iT) . . . ecrrdvai ev rfj (jjvaei, Soph., 249 A, vovv OVK e%ov
aKivrjTov e<TTO9 elvai, C, avdjKf} . . . p,rfre rwv ev rj KOI ra
7ro\\d etStj Xeyovrcov TO irav ecrrrjKOf aTroBe^ecrdai, and com-
pare the list of eiSrj given by Socrates at 129 E with the
fjiejia-ra yevr) of the Sophistes*), and are so entirely unlike
any coherent doctrine which can be got from the hypotheses,
that this conclusion appears to me all but certain ; while the
opposite view, that Socrates represents the Platonic and
Parmenides the Megarian interest in the dialogue, seems to
entail the spuriousness not only of the Parmenides but
also of the Sophistes. Further, if we suppose that
Socrates, in our dialogue, is arguing from a semi-
Megarian standpoint, we seem to find a special ap-
propriateness in the dramatic setting of the discourse.
Not only does Plato's repeated insistence on the youth
and inexperience of Socrates become intelligible, but the
selection of Parmenides as his opponent acquires a new
significance. For the Megarian school derives as much
from Eleaticism as from Socraticism, and hence the choice
of the great Eleatic as the mouth-piece of Plato's refutation
of Megarian misapplications of his fundamental thought has
a singular fitness. Similarly in the Sophistes it is into the
mouth of an Eleatic that he puts his criticism on both
Parmenides and the Megarians. There seems however to
be one important difference between the Socrates of the
first part of the Parmenides and the early Megarians, and
ON THE INTERPRETATION OF PLATO'S PARMENIDES. 37
on this point, the advantage, as far as consistency is con-
cerned, is not with Socrates. The first Megarians, accord-
ing to all accounts, held pretty much the same notion of
Ideas as that which Socrates here puts forward, but they
soon discovered the impossibility of getting from such Ideas
an explanation of the sensible world. That, with the con-
sistency of despair, they, like the Eleatics, gave up as the
merely illusory. And a similar act of intellectual " happy
despatch " would be the inevitable outcome of Socrates'
theory, were he determined to carry it through. He is not
however prepared to face such a consequence, and on its
being pointed out to him that the presuppositions of his
Ideal theory exclude the derivation of the sensible world
from the Ideas he is disposed to modify the theory. In the
second part of the dialogue, on the other hand, that inter-
pretation of el TO ev <TTI which leads to the Nihilistic con-
clusions of the first and fifth hypotheses seems to be Megarian-
isrn unalloyed. No better comment could be made on the
meaning and consequences of the assumption " the One is,"
in the sense in which it is there made, than is contained
in the three following passages which sum up the Megarian
ontology. (I quote from Eitter and Preller.) " They held
that reality is one, and the unreal is what is other than
the One, and that there is no such thing as genesis, or
decay, or motion." (r/^iovv ovrot ye TO ov ev elvai, nal TO
prj ov erepoi/ elvat, fATjBe yei'va<T0ai Tt firjBe $>6eipecr6ai fj-tiBe
Kivei<T0ai rb Trapdirav . Aristocles Peripateticus quoted in
Eusebius, Praeparat. Evang., 14, 7.) " He (Eucleides) denied
the reality of what is opposed to the ' Good,' saying
that it does not exist" (Diog. Laert., 2, 106). "These theories
(Megarian views about 8vva/j.is and evepyeia) destroy both
motion and becoming. What is once at rest will according
to them be always at rest, and what once sits down must
always remain seated " (Aristotle, Met. [i.e., Bk. 6} 1047al4).
It is true that we cannot be sure that the Megarian doctrine
about Swaths is as old as Eucleides, but it is at any rate
a natural and obvious deduction from the principle, " what
is, is, and what is not, is not, and there is no intercom-
munion of being and not-being," which was common to
him with the Eleatics. It would seem then that it is not
unreasonable to state the argument of the Parmenides from
a historical point of view thus. Parmenides exhibits to
Socrates the latent Megarianism of his first ideal theory
(part 1) ; the Megarian principle is then followed con-
sistently to its conclusion, and proved (hyp. 1 and 5) to be
as untenable as the opposite theory of sensationalism (7, 9),
38 A. E. TAYLOR :
while the true or Platonic ideal doctrine is shown (2-4, 6, 8)
to be the real solution of the problem.
If our interpretation of the hypotheses be accepted as in
the main sound, still an ultimate doubt seems to remain.
How, it may be said, has our conclusion gone beyond the
point from which w r e set out ? Our original difficulty was
to understand how the one Idea could spread itself out, so
to speak, over a plurality of particulars ; that this must
somehow take place we saw from the first, but the difficulty
was to see how it could come about, and we do not seem to
be any nearer an understanding now. For all that we have
learned from the hypotheses amounts to this, that the in-
conceivable union of unity with plurality must really happen,
which is no more than we knew before. It is no answer to
the question how the unthinkable happens to say, as Par-
menides virtually does : " Well, you see it does happen ".
To such a doubt one may, however, reply that whether the
demonstration is satisfactory or not, it is all that can be had.
If it does not content us to be convinced that unity and
plurality not merely " come together " in sensible things, but
cannot even be thought of in separation from one another,
it is hard to see what would. What is necessarily pre-
supposed in every act of judgment and thought must most
certainly be real, whether we can picture it to ourselves or
not ; or, if any one thinks this is an insufficient ground of
certainty, he may, as Aristotle remarks in a different con-
nexion, "be called on to produce a better ".
I should like, lastly, to end this essay with a double
apology, firstly, for what I have not said, and next, for
something of what I have. It may seem strange that I
should scarcely have made more than a passing reference to
Zeller's instructive essay on the Parmenides in the Platon-
isclie Studien. The omission is due to two reasons. Partly
I am not clear how far Zeller would still maintain any of the
views there set forth, and partly I hope that my analysis will
of itself indicate the extent to which I feel able to adopt his
conclusions. I may, perhaps, just say that, while the view
taken by Zeller in the Studien of the general purport of the
hypotheses seems to me eminently just, I cannot acquiesce
in his assumption that the " One " of the second hypothesis
is identical with that of the first, nor consequently in his
statement that the Platonic solution of the puzzle is only
indirectly suggested.
To the late Dr. Maguire's edition of the Parmenides I
probably owe more than to Zeller. In fact I think it most
likely that it is to Dr. Maguire's marginal analysis of the
ON THE INTERPRETATION OF PLATO'S PARMENIDES. 39
dialogue that I owe the first hints for my own essay. I
gladly take the opportunity of acknowledging the debt ;
though, as will have been seen in the course of my exposi-
tion, I cannot follow Dr. Maguire in reading the Hegelian
system into Plato.
The second part of my apology relates to the somewhat
free way in which I have at times interpreted Plato in the
language of modern philosophy. And on this score I would
plead that for the most part these interpretations are
intended rather as illustrations for the modern reader than
as professed translations. Moreover, if we would form any
sort of understanding of ancient thought, some process
of this kind seems unavoidable, and the most we can do in
order to guard against misrepresentation is to perform the
process carefully and conscientiously. And of all the Platonic
dialogues there is none in which this kind of interpretation
can do less mischief than in the Parmenides. For its main
result, as I have tried to show, is to arrive at the conception
of the world as a systematic unity or whole, making almost
entire abstraction from the concrete character of its contents,
and there can be no assignable reason for thinking that this
conception of abstract system appeared to Plato any other-
wise than it does to us, though, no doubt, his notion of what
the system contained was in many respects widely divergent
from our own. Hence I can hardly suppose that even the
freest of my restatements of Parmenidean arguments
seriously vitiates my theory of the general purport of the
dialogue ; and the general drift and purport of the whole is
all I undertook to explain.
III. THE RELIGIOUS INSTINCT.
BY HENEY EUTGEES MAESHALL.
1. In opening this article, I must beg to remind my reader
of certain points which I have endeavoured to bring into
clear relief in the two articles of the series that have
preceded this.
(1) We have seen that in all organic life we find two
fundamental influences at work, the influence which tends
to restrict organic variation within typical lines, and the
influence which leads the organism to break free from the
restraints thus presented.
(2) We have noted that the tendency to variance is
determined partly by the forcefulness of the stimulus
affecting the element, and partly by the degree of integra-
tion existing between the elements of the organism of
which the affected element is a part : and we have seen this
to be true in the higher development of the g?<si-organic
social life which determines our social, our ethical, instincts.
(3) We have seen that in order to account for the rise of
instincts we must grant that in the past the variant
tendency must on the whole have been held in check. 1
(4) We have noted that in order to account for the
formation of the social instincts we must assume that the
instincts of individualistic import, as subordinated to those
instincts which relate to the persistence of species, must
in their turn have become subordinated to the newly
forming social instincts : so that in the long run the indi-
vidual will, under normal conditions, come to react to
protect himself indeed as an individual, in such ways as
will also lead to the persistence of the species, but only
in such manner as will lead to the stability of the social
group to which he belongs.
1 Of the limitations of this view I speak in the closing section.
THE KELIGIOUS INSTINCT. 41
I.
2. I wish now to call attention to a fact which
seems to me to be of importance in this connexion. It
must be granted, I think, that there are many influences
at work in the guas-i-organic social life of that civilisation
in which man lives which tend to produce an over-emphasis
of elemental variance, and to disturb the typical orider of
subordination of the instincts which we have considered ;
influences which lead especially to the enforcement of in-
dividualistic impulses and which tend to bring about an
opposition to the force of the higher social instincts. To
some of these influences I wish for a moment to direct the
reader's attention.
It will be remembered that in treating of an individual
organism I called attention to the fact that if the effect
upon some special elemental part, resulting from the
stimuli which reach it, be especially forceful, this part may
tend to act for itself with little reference to the value of
its action in relation to the whole individual of which it
is a part. Thus, to repeat myself, the heart in its own
interest, so to speak, may undertake extraordinary work
which if not regulated by organic influences may result
destructively to the organism as a whole.
I have also asked the reader to note that this elemental
variant action will be less likely to take place in animals
whose organic structure is complete and fixed ; and more
likely to take place in those organic forms in which the
elemental parts are less closely interrelated, so that the
action in any one organ is relatively less dependent upon
the action in other organs.
The reader will also now perceive, I think, why I have
called his attention with emphasis in one of the preceding
articles to the fact that the hypothetical social organism
of which we individuals are supposed to be elements, if it
exist, must be an organism resembling the lower forms of
individual organic life ; and that the interdependence, the
integration, between the individual elements of the social
organism must be relatively very slight, even as it is be-
tween the parts of these lower individual organisms. In
the racial life of man it is indeed in very many cases self-
evident that the bond of interdependence between indi-
viduals is a very weak one indeed : the ties that have held
the aggregate together may with little difficulty be broken,
and new aggregates with changed relations may be formed.
The Anglo-Saxon, reared under the valuable restraints of
42 HENRY RUTGERS MARSHALL :
a refined life in a highly civilised community, finds it all
too easy to fall into the habits of loose morality of the
semi, or wholly, barbaric races with whom he may find
himself domiciled in the colonies. The European, who
revolts against slavery at home, uses what is practically
slave labour in Africa, when he finds himself powerful by
its means. The frontiersman, who would have scorned to
murder before his emigration, scarcely hesitates to kill the
savage who happens in his way.
Now it seems to me that apart from the assumed valid-
ity of the parallelism with the lower forms of animal life
which I have suggested, it becomes evident from the very
examples just given, to which the reader will be able to add
many others, that this lack of interrelation, of interdepend-
ence, in itself involves an exaggeration of the tendency
within us to act individually instead of racially ; and this
emphasis of the individualistic influences will be likely to
appear whenever the weak bonds of interdependence are
broken, or where their relations of efficiency are altered : I
think the reader will acknowledge that in the very nature
of our exceedingly varied and complex civilisation such
alterations and breaks as those to which I have just re-
ferred by examples are exceedingly likely to occur.
3. But there are other reasons which would lead us to
expect to find tendencies to the emphasis of individualistic
influences in our lives.
In the preceding articles I have noted that elemental
rather than organic action will be likely to follow where (a)
the stimulus to reaction which affects a given element is
unusually powerful, and where (/8), on the other hand, the
influences from the organism are not habitually called into
play, in answer to the stimulus in question, with a force
relatively equivalent.
Now I think it must be clear to the reader that the very
conditions that are essentially bound up with the growth in
complication of our life as individuals in a social community
tend to bring into prominence (a) the forceful presentation of
unusual conditions which seem to demand immediate re-
actions, but reactions on lines in relation to which our
instincts have apparently no teaching to give. The racial,
the social, influences on the other hand, it must be re-
membered, are effective (/3) rather because they act through
very many phases of life, than because they act forcefully
in any specific instance, and for this reason clearly these
racial influences must be expected to be slower in reaction
THE EELIGIOUS INSTINCT. 43
than those of a lower order, and less powerful unless they
are allowed time in which to develop.
Thus it conies about that under special stress individuals
tend to act as individuals rather than as members of a
social body, and thus often there is required some emphatic
presentation to the mind, of the opposition which indi-
vidualism is making to these racial demands, perhaps a
summation of such emphatic presentations, in order to
bring the racial impulses into play. How often does the
unscrupulous politician come to believe that the masses
have lost all moral sense, because he sees no opposition
to his action ; how often is he surprised when, after many
repetitions of aggravated crimes against their everj^-day
morality, he finds them suddenly arising in revolt, upon
what seems to him to be a most trivial indiscretion on
his part ; finds them, moved by a deep-lying moral sense,
thrusting him aside as an unworthy servant.
It appears then that the mere complication of our life,
with its enormous variety of forceful stimulations, itself
implies emphasis of the variant influence ; and the more
complex therefore the life becomes, the more distracting
the stimuli to action, the greater will appear the danger of
disadvantageous subordination of the racial impulses.
4. Let me now draw attention to another and most im-
portant influence at work leading us to emphasise variance
in our lives.
We have seen, in what has preceded this, that instinct
actions tend to become unconscious ; and that this occurs in
certain cases where these actions have become thoroughly
co-ordinated, so that their instinct feelings do not become
forceful in the pre-eminent consciousness ; or in other cases
where these instinct feelings become disconnected from
the brain consciousness, either through incommensurability
of rhythm or by other means. But demands for reactions
of distinctly individualistic significance, especially where
they are emphasised by rational processes, do not show
this tendency to become unconscious, and hence are not so
likely to lose their forcefulness in our psychic life.
I would here recall to the reader's attention the fact
closely related to that just mentioned, that individually
acquired habits of action must tend to become unconscious
exactly as the instincts do ; for if persisted in they grad-
ually become more and more fully co-ordinated, and less
and less forceful on their conscious side ; in fact they seem
44 HENRY RUTGERS MARSHALL :
in extreme cases to become entirely disconnected in their
action from the active working consciousness. The pianist
when he begins to learn to play upon his instrument finds
his practice accompanied by laborious conscious effort, but
when he becomes a virtuoso, the technique becomes less
and less prominent in his thought, and finally w r e find him
thinking solely of the expression, considering at most only
the effect upon his audience of the emotional trains that
arise in his mind and which he interprets by means of his
instrument. In such cases evidently individually acquired
habits gain almost completely the character of instincts.
It becomes evident then that the very processes which
in the racial life of the past have tended to make instincts
less and less conscious do in our individual lives tend to
produce unconsciousness of the acquired activities which
originally result from ratiocination entirely within con-
sciousness. Hence individually acquired habits which are
clearly conscious in their inception, may become all but
pure reflexes ; and their psychic effects throughout this
movement towards unconsciousness are so closely allied
to the psychic effects produced by instincts that we are very
liable to confound the true instinct with the acquired habit.
I think the reader will agree with me, then, that in our
complex life we should expect it often to be very easy to
mistake the leadings of the individual habit reflexes above
spoken of, for true instinctive leadings : and yet it is
clearly most important that we should learn to dis-
tinguish between the true instincts and these individual
habit reflexes which grow upon us all ; for evidently in-
dividual habit may lead to distinct racial loss. The habits
of the musical virtuoso for instance could not but be of
distinct disadvantage if adopted by the average man. It
is needless to speak of the acquired habits of alcoholic
drinkers and opium smokers to emphasise what I mean.
It is apparent then that this tendency to fail in dis-
tinguishing the habits acquired by deliberate action of
the individual, from the instincts proper which belong to
his race, will lead to a distinct danger of over-emphasis of
the individual variant influence where it may come in con-
flict with the higher racial influence.
5. Another important source of the over-emphasis of
individualistic impulses is to be found in the fact that in
not a few cases, success in life, as success is usually gauged,
is attained by those who fail to appreciate the importance
of the higher racial instincts.
THE RELIGIOUS INSTINCT. 45
That "honesty is the best policy" has become a proverb
because by the use of it men try to persuade themselves
that those who win success through disingenuousness stand
on dangerous ground. But it must be confessed that the
mass of fortunes, by the attainment of which in our day
success is largely gauged, have been reached by skilful
dishonesty.
I think it cannot be questioned that autocratic power
has in the past been gained almost entirely by what the
best of us now-a-days would call immoral methods, and
that political power is to-day for the most part reached
by means which honourable men of the world would not
condone in the conduct of their own affairs. Yet to rise
to eminence as conquerors, and as political leaders, is surely
counted as success.
That licentiousness and other immoralities are no bar
to social distinction is as true to-day as it was in the days
of old.
Now without question these three attainments above
mentioned, wealth, power, and social distinction, are all
counted desirable ; and yet note that they are all gained
almost without exception by the emphasis of purely in-
dividualistic traits : self-love, self-protection, self-glorifi-
cation, dominance over others for the personal gratification
gained, theft of others' goods, destruction of one's enemies,
and of what belongs to them and gives them power.
What wonder then that these individualistic traits have
a fascination : a fascination that does not and cannot attach
to those habits which are the outcome of impulses that give
no individual importance, but that tend rather to bring
about subordination of the welfare of the individual to the
welfare of the race of which he is a mere element.
6. In the preceding article I attempted to show that
reasoned processes were the latest and highest development
of the variant principle in us. The power of this latest
development of the variant principle to become effective
is much enhanced by the co-ordinate growth of habits of
reflexion in connexion with the action of the fundamental
instinct to imitate, which is so powerful in us all.
It is apparent that individual variations determined by
process of ratiocination, if this process stood alone, would in
many cases affect the lives of the reasoners too lightly to make
these variations determinants in the struggle for existence,
and thus to fix them in the race to which the individuals
belong. There is no conflict of opinion and survival of
46 HENRY RUTGERS MARSHALL :
opinion in a sense co-ordinate with the conflict for and sur-
vival of life. There is no destruction of one conception by
another. Survival of an opinion must evidently depend
largely upon the survival of the race holding that opinion,
and this survival may often be only most incidentally
affected by the opinion itself. In tribal contests, famine,
or the sword of a more muscular or numerous neighbour,
may blot out a race in which subtlety of thought has been
developed to a much higher degree than it has been de-
veloped in the race that conquers and survives.
On the other hand, the man who reflects and reasons,
pictures the life of his fellow-man as it differs from his own,
and if his imagination of the totality of results of certain
habits in his neighbour is on the whole more pleasant than
the picture of the results of his own differing habits, there
is aroused an unconscious tendency within him to follow
his inborn " imitative instincts " and to alter his mode of
life to accord with that of his fellow.
This process w T ould be effective to alter moral standards,
and in ways which would be almost entirely indifferent so
far as the laws of direct struggle for existence are con-
cerned. These latter laws would not take effect in con-
nexion with these differentiations until the alteration of
thought had affected belief, and belief had affected action
in some direction that related to the survival contest. As
long as these changes of mode of life and standards were
indifferent so far as the general welfare was concerned they
would probably continue to gain in strength : when they
became well established they might become distinctly ad-
vantageous or disadvantageous to the race, and then indeed
they would become factors of importance in connexion
with the law of survival : but from the ethical point of view
the habit of imitation after reflexion is more important to
be considered, so far as it relates to the formation of new
and higher standards ; and the development of this imita-
tive instinct in the higher life of man, which is acknowledged
by all psychologists to-day, makes it a most potent factor
in that emphasis of variation through reason which we are
considering.
7. Enough has been said, I think, to convince the reader
that with the growth in complexity of life in communities,
as we experience it, there will be many forces at work
leading to a repressal of racial influences and to an empha-
sis of individual variant ones : bringing about on the whole
an emphasis of Reason and a subordination within us of
THE RELIGIOUS INSTINCT. 47
those impulses which tell of Instinct ; and leading thus to
a subversion of the order of instinct efficiency which has
become established in us.
But, as we have already seen, the development of the
higher life, so far as we can judge, is on the whole de-
termined by a reverse process, viz. : by the subordination
of the individual variant influences in Reason to the racial
influences in Instinct ; and by the emphasis of the order
of instinct efficiency above referred to.
For, as we have noted above, it is difficult to conceive
how any instinct can have been fixed in a race unless we
suppose that the individual of the species acquiring the
instinct has been better adapted to existence in his environ-
ment as the result of following this instinct than he would
have been had he allowed variations to prevail. And in
reference to the higher, the social instincts, which we are
here especially considering, it is still more difficult to con-
ceive how they can have been fixed in the race unless we
suppose that on the whole the individual is indirectly better
adapted to exist in his environment, and to perpetuate his
kind, as a member of a social group, than would have been
the case had he not acted as a part of a social group by the
subordination of his instincts in the definite order we have
already described.
If all this be true, then I think it is clear that perfection
of racial life would seem to demand the evolution in the
race of a governing instinct ; of an instinct of a new and
higher order, which would be regulative of reason in its
relation to instinct, which would tend to suppress the
variant principle and to emphasise the force of instinctive
appeal, producing emphasis of instincts as a class and subor-
dinating processes of ratiocination to impulse, and tending
to establish the order of instinct efficiency which we find
developed in us.
It remains for us to inquire whether there be any evidence
of the formation of such a governing instinct, and to this
inquiry we shall now turn.
II.
8. In the sections which have preceded this we have
noted certain influences and conditions which are likely to
occasion the disadvantageous subordination of the social, the
ethical, impulses to those of lower orders, notably to those
which have only individualistic significance : and tendencies
to such subordination we find appearing in our complex
48 HENRY RUTGERS MARSHALL :
civilisation. It seems probable, then, that if we study these
causes with a view to the discovery of some means by which
their evil effects may be counteracted, we are not unlikely to
gain some notion of the nature of the governing instinct
which, if it exist, would function in this same direction.
9. In our stud} 7 of these influences and conditions we
first noted that this tendency to the emphasis of elemental
variance and to the subordination of the ethical impulses
was involved in the very fact that these higher impulses are
determined by the existence of social aggregates which are
of a low quasi -organic form, in which we individuals are
elements, and elements which are very lightly bound to-
gether, very loosely integrated.
For in our earlier study we had seen that in the lower
individual organisms in which the parts are very loosely
bound together, and with which the quasi-social organism
is to be compared, a tendency to action of the elements for
themselves, and without regard to the efficiency of the
organism as a whole, will appear under anything but the
most ordinary stimulation of the parts affected by environ-
mental conditions.
If this weak integration tend to emphasise variation, tend
to invert the established order of instinct emphasis, if it be
a cause of the subordination of the ethical impulses to those
of earlier formation, to the individualistic and sexual, then
our hypothetical governing instinct might be expected to
contend against the results of this lack of integration.
It is evident, I think, that this tendency to disintegrative
action, this tendency to the separate functioning of indi-
viduals as though they were no longer elements of the social
aggregate, may be overcome in one of two ways : either by
the acquisition of habits which will concentrate attention
upon the social bonds which do exist, upon the community
of interests, and upon the necessities of mutual aid ; or else
by the reduction of the stimuli to individualistic action
through temporary separation from those surroundings in
which non-ethical impulses are developed, or through volun-
tary restraint of the non-ethical impulses when they arise
within us.
10. If we turn to the consideration of the next point
made above, we recall that we there argued that for many
reasons the mere complexity of our modern civilisation tends
to bring into existence that emphasis of the variant in-
THE RELIGIOUS INSTINCT. 49
fluences within us, to repress which the governing instinct
for which we are searching would act.
It seems very clear that the disadvantageous emphasis of
the variant influences thus occasioned may be overcome by
the acquisition of habits which would lead men to break
away from this increasing complication of life by a return to
a simpler life in which there would be fewer distractions, as
there were fewer stimuli to activity ; and evidently this end
may be reached by involuntary or voluntary separation of
men from the active turmoil of life through more or less of
seclusion in one form or another, or else by the acquisition
of habits of voluntary restraint from the immediate reaction
to the many varied stimuli which reach the man in conse-
quence of this growing complexity in his environment.
11. Again, we have seen ( 4) that processes of
reasoning tend to remain emphatic in consciousness while
instinct feelings, and the impulses related to them, tend to
disappear into that mass of unnoticed psychic states which
makes up the field of inattention ; and we have noted that
this fact is often likely to bring about the disadvantageous
emphasis of the variant influence of which we speak, for
the simple reason that oftentimes a long continuance of
attention is required before we are able to gain any cog-
nisance at all of the existence of the wider instincts of
broader import which should guide us, and because we are
liable, therefore, in cases of strong or sudden stimulation, to
act under the influence of forces which are of individualistic
moment only. The governing instinct, if it exist, might
be expected to function in some manner to enable us to
avoid this danger.
This difficulty in our lives may evidently be overcome, if
in no other way, by restraint from the actions dictated by
reason until sufficient time has elapsed to enable the less
obvious impulses to produce upon consciousness the effects
which are peculiar to them : habits of such restraint
will most easily be attained during periods of voluntary or
involuntary seclusion from the stimuli to action which
normally reach the man who is living an active life in the
turmoil of a busy community.
In the same section, 4, we saw that in a manner not dis-
similar the emphasis of the variant influences within us is
often occasioned by the mistaking of individually acquired
habit reflexes, which have only individualistic value, for true
instincts, which are of racial import. The distinctive marks
of the true instincts which it is so important for us to recog-
4
50 HENRY RUTGERS MARSHALL :
nise are found in the fact that they guide many individuals,
and that in their higher forms they guide a given individual
under many varied conditions.
Now evidently the important distinction thus to be noted,
and in which process the functioning of our hypothetical
governing instinct might be expected to aid us, can only be
discovered by thoughtful reflexion upon the impulses which
have guided our lives in the past, and which seem to guide
others of our race ; and it appears that one way in which
opportunity for such reflexion may best be obtained will be
by voluntary or involuntary seclusion from the distracting
influences which bear upon us in our every-day life.
12. We have seen that what we call success in life is
determined largely by the emphasis of individualistic im-
pulses, and that the desire for success is potent in suppress-
ing the dominance of racial forces, which suppression our
sought-for governing instinct should tend to oppose. Surely
one way in which the effects of this wish for success and its
resultants may best be regulated is by seclusion from the
rest of the race without whose recognition success is an
empty term.
13. Finally we have noted that the tendency to imitate
the actions of others who vary from what is typical in
directions which we deem advantageous, is powerful in
leading to the obscuration of the deep-lying ethical impulses.
But clearly the best means of overcoming this danger
lies in the separation of ourselves from the influence of
those who thus guide our actions, until such time as
nature's impulses are able to assert themselves.
14. The reader cannot fail to have noticed that in each
of the five sections preceding this we have argued with
perhaps tedious repetition that each and all of the im-
portant forces which we have noted as naturally leading
to the over-emphasis of the variant influences within us
may be held in check, if in no other way, by the acquisition
of habits of seclusion from the distracting stimuli by which
we are affected in our normal complex life ; or else by
voluntary restraint for the time from reaction to the in-
fluences which surround us. And it seems natural for us
to suspect therefore that at least some considerable part of
the expressions of the governing instinct for which we are
in search will involve such restraint and such seclusion.
THE EELIGIOUS INSTINCT. 51
How can any one who has followed our train of thought
fail to be impressed with the fact, which forces itself upon
my own mind, that these habits of occasional seclusion and
of hourly restraint are the most emphatic expressions of our
religious experience. The very word "religion " was held
by Cicero and others to have come into use because of its
relation to habits of reflexion and restraint, and although
it is not probable that we can correctly trace the word to
so direct an origin (for it was probably used in less de-
veloped form before men realised the meaning of this re-
straint) still Cicero's derivation is important as showing
how long ago the connexion between religious expression
and restraint was noted. 1
The leading seems so clear that I shall without further
introduction ask the reader to consider with me the evidence
that leads me to believe that religious activities are the ex-
pression of a true instinct, which we may speak of as the
religious instinct : and that the function of this religious
instinct in the development of our race is to bring about the
subordination of the individual variant influences and the
emphasis of the social influences within us ; and at the same
time to strengthen the established order of instinct efficiency
within us.
III.
15. But here, I imagine, some reader may ask what
warrant we have for the first of the statements just made ;
what reason is there to believe that our religious activities
are the expression of an instinct. It will be well, therefore,
to consider this point with some care before we proceed
further with our argument.
If an appeal to common sense be of any value, we do not
need to look far for an affirmation of the instinctive nature
of religion. I find by questioning that intelligent people
very generally answer " Yes " if asked whether they consider
religion to be instinctive ; and the use of the term instinct-
1 It is interesting also in this connexion to call to the reader's at-
tention a point made in Mr. Beare's article in MIND (N. S., 18, p. 229),
where he shows that the yv>0i creavroc which was the foundation of
religion as Socrates conceived it, had been long before his day taught as
a precept by his religious predecessors. Over the temple entrance at
Delphi Mr. Beare tells us " this piece of counsel, know thyself, stood con-
spicuously engraven " : and it was at the first interpreted ethically.
" Heraclitus, the earliest Greek philosopher whose remains contain any
allusion to it," gave it this interpretation : "It behoves all men to know
themselves and ( ? thereby) to exercise self-control ".
52 HENEY BUTGEBS MABSHALL :
in relation to religious activities in common speech is so
usual that there can be no doubt this notion is generally
held ; although the implications involved in the assertion are
in no sense realised. But we cannot take this common-
sense view without question ; we must examine the subject
from the standpoint of Psychology.
As we have already seen in an earlier article, our instincts
are those springs of action which exist within the organism :
our instinct actions occur because we are organisms, and
because as organisms we inherit with our organic structure
habits of action which lead to the attainment of certain ends
which have significance for the organism : and we inherit
these habits because our ancestors have become better
adapted to their environment in consequence of the recur-
rence of these tendencies to act in certain specific ways upon
the appearance of the appropriate stimuli.
Instinct actions, as I have observed in the first article of
this series, are determined first by their organisation and
especially by some biological end which this organisation
subserves.
I shall not attempt here to establish the first point ; viz.,
to show that the actions expressive of religious feeling are
organic in their nature ; the proof of that will appear as we
proceed with this particular discussion, and will become
convincing, I think, before we conclude this consideration in
the next article of this series. But the question as to the
existence of a biological end related to religious expression
is one which may well engage our attention.
As I have already said, we naturally take as examples of
typical instincts those particular instincts which express
themselves by what seem to us to be invariable actions
occurring in definitely co-ordinated relation to one another,
so that the actions appear to be always the same, and to be
aroused always by the same stimuli.
But, as we have seen, the definiteness and the invaria-
bility of the co-ordination of these actions are relative
definiteness and relative invariability only. This became
evident to us when we noted that many instincts, even of
the lower types, show that their efficiency depends upon the
trend of the activities they induce, even where there is a
certain degree of variation in circumstances of stimulation
or in the stimuli themselves, and consequently in the reac-
tion to these stimuli.
The reader will also recall that as we studied instincts of
a higher type we found less definiteness and invariability of
reaction, and a marked preponderance of cases where the
THE RELIGIOUS INSTINCT. 53
guidance of our actions to the production of certain ends is
attained by the strengthening of certain trends of action
which thus come to persist through many differences of
stimulation and through many variations of reaction.
This fact is illustrated by the instincts that relate to the
foundation of the family, which act indirectly through many
efforts tending to the accumulation of food or property by
the man, and to protective care of the young by the woman :
nobody hesitates to speak of the paternal instincts nor of the
maternal instincts. It is illustrated again by reference to
the ethical instincts which tend to bring about social consoli-
dation ; and this through the most varied of actions that are
often apparently guided by the most varied of conscious
aims, which often seem to the actor to lead in any direction
rather than towards the racial ends that we believe these
social instincts subserve : we agreed that no one should
hesitate to speak of the patriotic instincts nor of the bene-
volent instincts.
Now I think it will be evident to the reader that if the
governing instinct for which we are searching exist at all
it is likely to appear, as do all the higher instincts, as a
most general trend of action running through many diverse
forms of activity.
We see therefore that in general we need not conclude
that the activities which we surmise may relate to an end
which we are considering are not of an instinctive nature
because we find the trend of these activities difficult to
trace in many ways or because the immediate end that
Nature has in view is not instantly clear before our eyes.
I am in complete agreement with Professor Lloyd Morgan
when he cautions us that instinct actions must be care-
fully separated from those actions which are attached to
them by accumulated experience, or by imitation, or by
" tradition " : nor can there be any question that with the
actions we are discussing this separation is exceedingly
difficult. But on the other hand I hold that even in cases
where this separation is impossible in many directions, we
are nevertheless warranted in suspecting the existence of
a true instinct provided we are able to discover some bio-
logical end which is subserved by the general trend of a
series of varied activities.
That we are able to discover the biological end which is
subserved by the actions expressive of the religious feelings,
I have already suggested. I shall hope to convince the
reader of the correctness of this view in the next number of
this series ; and this I shall attempt to do by the accumula-
54 HENEY EUTGERS MARSHALL :
tion of evidence which enables us to sift away much that
is extraneous, and which places in relief the important
relatively stable elements which appear in all the varied
religious expressions.
16. It seems to me that a strong argument in favour of
the instinctive nature of religious expression lies in its uni-
versality in man in one degree or another.
It is indeed true that some observers tell as that there
are certain savages and some small proportion of the de-
graded of our own race who show no tendencies to religious
expression, and who can formulate no religious thought :
but so far as this is true, it is probably due to a lack of the
conditions which usually stimulate to such expression : and
we surely should not be led by this fact, if it be a fact,
to pronounce in general against the existence of a true 93-
ligious instinct in man by which we may account for his
religious expressions and sentiments. As well might we
deny the existence of the maternal instinct because we find
human mothers who seem to be lacking entirely in maternal
feeling : as well deny the existence of patriotic instincts,
or of benevolent instincts, because a small proportion of men
are cowards, or utterly selfish and cruel.
It is very true that the masses of the people are influenced
to religious expression from their early childhood by habits
enjoined upon them by those who guide their young lives ;
or by imitation of the actions of those whom they fear or
admire. It is indeed barely possible, theoretically, that if a
child were brought up without any religious influence what-
ever, it might show none of the characteristic religious
expressions ; although satisfactory experiment in this direc-
tion could scarcely be made, for the simple reason that
religious expression direct or indirect is so widespread in all
that we see and hear in life that it would be all but impos-
sible to make an experiment of the kind mentioned which
would be conclusive. But suppose for the moment that the
experiment were successfully made, we should certainly not
prove thereby that religious activities are not instinctive : as
well might one attempt to prove that the little alligator has
no instinct leading it to snap at its enemy by experimentally
eliminating from its environment the stimuli which bring the
instinct into evidence.
As a matter of fact the mark of the existence of an
instinct within us is not the appearance in all men of certain
activities, but rather the aptitude for the production of cer-
tain co-ordinated actions, of certain trends of action, if the
THE BELIGIOUS INSTINCT. 55
appropriate stimulus be given. And under such a criterion
the instinctive nature of the religious force within us must
surely be granted : for one will scarcely deny that civilised
man has a natural aptitude towards religious functioning,
which is brought out under the most unexpected circum-
stances, upon the occurrence of the most subtle of stimuli.
17. Here I would beg my reader to note that the
governing instinct, if it exist at all, must be one which
would be appreciably developed in man only ; for we know
of no race of animals in which the ethical impulses are
highly developed, and none in which the tribal life is notice-
ably dependent upon the subordination of other instincts to
racial instincts, so far as the latter do exist in them.
It is an interesting corroboration of our supposition, there-
fore, to find that the religious activities are, so far as we
know, developed in man only. It is true that certain
attempts have been made to trace evidence of fetich worship
in the higher animals ; but the actions observed are all
explicable in terms of surprise and its resultant fear ; and as
we shall see in the next article, although the arousal of fear
may possibly have led in the beginning to the primal forms
of religious expression, it can in no way have led to the
persistence of the tendency to the appearance of religious
expression in its many modified forms ; and this fact of
persistence is after all the matter of highest importance in
our consideration.
But furthermore, not only do we find that religious
expression is limited to man, but we discover, as we should
expect, that it varies in correspondence to the changes in
man's character; that it is developed in its most complex
forms where man's tribal life is most complex. If religious
activities be the expression of an instinct which has to do
with the emphasis of impulses that are important for the
development of social life, then surely we should expect just
what we thus find viz., that its highest developments
would appear in those races in which social consolidation is
most advanced : it seems to me that the history of our race
proves this fact.
It is indeed true that religious inspiration, so called, has
often been and is still gained in solitude, but the power of a
religion is tested by its influence upon the social life of the
community in which it is preached. If we refer to the
history of ancient civilisations we find the complexity of
their religious conceptions and expressions co-ordinate with
the complexity of their social fabric.
56 HENRY RUTGERS MARSHALL:
In our day the nearest approach that we find to a man
without religion is the savage of the icy plain, the barbaric
negro of the deep forest, the cannibal of the desert island ;
and with all these low types of mankind it must be agreed
that social life and the social instincts are at most but
embryonic.
Among all the civilised races religious expression is found,
and the more complex their social organisation, the more
prominent become the actions of religious expression in the
history of the people.
18. Religious activities like the expression of all true
instincts seem often to be spontaneously developed. The
masses of mankind do not have to be argued into the ex-
pression of religious feelings : rather is it true that rational-
istic or other barriers must be raised if we are to prevent
the expression of the religious force that is found in man in
varying degree. And even then, however fully we may
acquiesce in the dictates of an inquisitorial power, or be
led by argument, howe,ver much we, under such influences,
repress our religious impulses, they still exist within us,
calling upon us aloud at times to give them play, and forcing
themselves to the front in moments of weakness or despair.
The most pronounced of atheists seldom fails to pray in
the face of terrible danger or deep sorrow.
19. I shall assume then, from this time on, that my
reader agrees with me that the religious instinct exists
within us ; that religious actions are the expressions of a
force which, as in the case of other instincts, is organic in
its nature ; that our religious impulses are determined by
the nature of the organism that we inherit. But from this
time on, I also wish to lay especial stress upon the fact
above discussed, but usually little appreciated ; viz., that
if it once be allowed that a religious instinct exists which,
broadly speaking, is developed in all of mankind, then
evidently we are immediately forced to the conclusion that
the religious instinct must subserve some valuable function
in the biological development of the human race.
For as we have so often said above, it is exceedingly dim-
cult for us to conceive how any instinct can have arisen,
how it can have become developed and elaborated, and
more than all, how it can have persisted from generation
to generation, as has this religious instinct so far back as
we are able to look into the history of the earliest of civil-
THE RELIGIOUS INSTINCT. 57
isations, unless it has fulfilled some function of value in the
development of the race.
It is of course always possible that certain habits of
action may have become fixed in our race that have no
bearing whatever upon the persistence of the race : habits
which are inherited because they belong to a race which
has come to persist for reasons entirely unrelated to these
habits : but this supposition is difficult to sustain in rela-
tion to any instinct which is widespread and persistent
in a race, as is the case with the religious instinct in man.
And on the whole we are compelled to assume that there
is little probability that the religious instinct is one of the
few exceptions to the general rule which connects instincts
with functioning advantageous to the race in which they
appear.
That I believe the function of the religious instinct can be
traced I have already stated : and I shall devote the next
article of this series to an attempt to show in some detail that
religious expressions, of ceremonial or of other kinds, whilst
on the whole of little advantage and often of distinct disad-
vantage to individual life, are on the other hand advantageous
on the whole to the tribal life of the social organism which
we believe to be beginning to develop. I shall further
attempt to show that this advantage accrues through the
subordination of the individual variant elemental influences
within us, and the emphasis of the racial influences ; this
subordination and emphasis being brought about by, or in
necessary connexion with, the habits of action which form
the expression of this religious instinct ; we being able thus
to account for the persistence of these habits of action,
although we recognise, as I have just said, that to us as
individuals they are apparently at times of disadvantage and
ordinarily of no appreciable value.
20. In closing this article let me say just a word upon
one subject to which a separate article might well be
devoted, and which I am unable to treat adequately in this
series without overstepping the limits of space which I am
able to ask the editor of MIND to allow me.
In all that has preceded this I have been calling attention
to the importance of the subordination of elemental variance
to typical action, and I have argued that without this
subordination our social life as it exists could not have been
built up.
But I must not be understood to hold that variance is not
in itself of importance. If material changes occur in en-
58 HENRY RUTGERS MARSHALL: THE RELIGIOUS INSTINCT.
vironmental condition, using the term in its widest sense,
then typical reactions may be the very ones which will lead
to destruction ; and, on the other hand, in variations from
typical reactions may appear our only hope of prosperity
or persistence.
But what I hold is that, so far as we can see, the growth
of social aggregation in quasi-organic forms has been depen-
dent in the past upon the subordination of variant influences,
and therefore that unless we are convinced that the condi-
tions of biological development are changing in important
directions we are bound to hold that, in general, variance
from typical forms should not be undertaken without this
serious consideration viz., that in acting contrary to these
typical forms we are acting in opposition to the experience
of the race from which we are descended, which experience
has left its mark in us in the establishment of these very
instincts which call upon us to live as our ancestors have
lived.
On the other hand, however, if after full consideration we
become convinced that conditions have thus changed, then
it seems to me equally clear that we are bound to take the
risk involved in action in opposition to instinct, although
this action be opposed to the experience of our race as
ingrained in us ; and we are bound to take this dangerous
risk in the interests of the progress of our race in its effort
to accommodate itself in the best -possible manner to an
environment which is never stable, which is daily altering
in minor details, and which perchance may at any moment
have come to differ in certain directions from that environ-
ment which in the past has determined the formation of the
impulses which guide us to-day.
IV.-AN ATTEMPT AT A PSYCHOLOGY OF
INSTINCT.
BY ALICE JULIA HAMLIN.
IN the scientific authorities of to-day we find widely different
and contradictory statements with regard to instinct. Psy-
chologists of the same school often differ noticeably in the
use of the term, while both the scientists of mind and of
nature trespass on one another's preserves without any
consciousness of being outside their own domain. There is
a psychology, as well as a biology and a physiology of
instinct. The proper field of the biologist is obviously the
investigation of the origin and development of instincts in
the race-history of any order of animals. He must estimate
the influence of environments, of individual acquirements
and of heredity. The physiologist must study the structural
and functional basis of instinctive activity in the individual.
As Hoffding says, "the original organisation of each indi-
vidual is a given starting-point connecting the heritage of
the race and the activity of the individual". 1 What this
connexion in the organism may be, we must leave entirely
to the physiologist to discover. It remains for the psycho-
logist to explicate the nature of instinct in so far as it is a
mental process. He must make a cross section of mind at
the time when instinct becomes a conscious state. He must
describe the whole mental contents or the psychical com-
position of instinct.
There has been little recognition of these differences in
standpoint from which the three sciences regard instinct.
The inevitable result of such neglect is the confusion and
inconsistency present in the general treatment of the subject
by even the most eminent men of the day. Attention is
called to this confusion in the use of the term instinct by Pro-
fessor C. Lloyd Morgan in an article in Natural Science, May,
1 Hoffding's Psychology, tr., p. 91.
60 ALICE JULIA HAMLIN :
1895, entitled "Some Definitions of Instinct". In the
opening paragraph of the article Professor Morgan does barely
allude to the fact that the psychologist's standpoint is not
the same as that of the biologist ; but he does not define the
difference, and he makes no use of the distinction in his
extended notice of the contradictions rife in writings upon
instinct. And though he quotes freely from the most
important psychological writings on the subject, his article
does not satisfactorily represent the views of some of the
writers cited, and does not attempt any investigation or
reconciliation of their differences. This is probably because
Professor Morgan's aim was the suggestion of definitions of
instinct that would be acceptable to both psychologists and
biologists. It seems to me to be equally worth the while to
attempt a fuller presentation of the treatment of instinct by
psychologists ; to see the reasons for their variance, and to
reconcile their differences where this is possible. We may
finally glean from their discussions a consistent and satis-
factory psychology of instinct. We shall refer to the psy-
chologists quoted by Professor Morgan, and also to some of
the natural scientists (Darwin, Romanes, and Morgan him-
self). In addition, we include in our study Bain, Carpenter,
Lehmann, von Hartmann and Volkmann.
The confusion in psychological writings on instinct is
largely due to the looseness in the terminology of the science
in general, and of this topic in particular. Instinct may be
synonymous with, exclusive of, or included under, the term
impulse. It may include or exclude what is habitual. It is
used as equivalent to innate, or again it is restricted to
certain kinds of connate activities ; and so on. The utter-
ances of each psychologist have to be interpreted in terms of
his complete system. To make any fair comparison of
opinions, then, we must occasionally interrupt our series of
quotations to call to mind the real significance of the terms
in any given quotation.
The important differences of opinion with regard to
instinct cluster about five principal questions. Is instinct a
conscious process? What is the relation of external and
organic (internal) stimulus to instinct? What is the rela-
tion of instinct to intelligence ? To feeling and emotion ?
To impulse? Under each topic references will be given
to the conflicting theories now in the field. Where the
differences cannot be reconciled, I shall venture to emphasise
whatever seems to me to contribute to a full and consistent
psychology of instinct.
1. Instinct vs. Reflex Action : Is Instinct a conscioiis
AN ATTEMPT AT A PSYCHOLOGY OF INSTINCT. 61
process? In proposing to write upon the psychology of
instinct, I have assumed that it is a conscious process : other-
wise it would not come within the province of psychology.
But protests have been raised against this assumption.
What basis is there for such protests, and how have they
been answered ?
The chief exponent, among psychologists, of the theory
that instinct is an unconscious process is Herbert Spencer.
He defines instinct as "compound reflex action". "No
instinct need ever have been intelligent. In its higher forms
it is probably accompanied by a rudimentary consciousness,
but this is an effect of the growing complexity of the
instinct." l
Wundt remarks that Spencer's theory " accounts for the
material which the animal has at its disposal, but not for
the form which is the real result of its work. That the
caterpillar secretes silk, and the bee wax, is just as much a
matter of physical necessity as the emission of any other
secretion. But that these substances are worked up in such
definite and artistic forms is altogether inexplicable from the
facts of physical organisation." 2 And again : ' ' The reflex
theory assumes that the sucking movements of the new-born
mammal are not only involuntary, bat unconscious. It is
hardly a theory that any one would hold, who had ever really
seen the movements of a hungry infant. If emotional ex-
pressions have any significance at all, the infant's move-
ments can only be interpreted as psychically conditioned
actions, i.e., manifestations of impulse." 3
Romanes also criticises Spencer's theory, and maintains
with Wundt that instinct must be conscious. " Instinct
is reflex action into which there is imported an element of
consciousness." 4
These two writers give us three classes of facts which
require the assumption of consciousness in instinct. (1)
Instinctive actions are often accommodated by the individual
to changes in external circumstances. (2) They do not
follow immediately upon definite stimuli, but depend also
upon the disposition of the animal. (3) In the higher
animals, at least, they are accompanied by unmistakable
expression of emotion.
Romanes admits that there is difficulty in determining
1 Spencer's Principles of Psychology, chap, xii., sec. 194.
2 Wundt's Lectures on Human and Animal Psychology, tr., p. 392.
* Op. cit., p. 400.
4 Mental Evolution in Animals, p. 159.
62 ALICE JULIA HAMLIN :
the presence of consciousness in many cases, but affirms-
that this does not invalidate his definition.
Professor Lloyd Morgan takes middle ground. He refuses
to accept consciousness as a criterion of distinction between
instinctive and reflex action, because "the same series of
activities may probably at one time be unconscious, and at
another time conscious ; and because many actions almost
universally regarded as reflex, may at times be accompanied
by consciousness". 1 He prefers to distinguish reflex and
instinctive activities by the organised sequence and co-ordi-
nation present in instinctive actions. 2 Yet Professor Morgan
himself recognises the answer that any psychologist would
make to his reasons for objecting to the definition of instinct
as a conscious process. Other processes, universally ad-
mitted to be conscious, may become so mechanised by habit
that they may be unconsciously performed at times. So in
his more recent article he admits that ' instinct ' is con-
scious, defining it as a " connate psychological impulse,"-
while instinctive ' activities ' may be conscious or un-
conscious.
Hoffding distinguishes instincts (1) as more complex
than reflexes ; (2) as including an obscure impulse of feeling,
and consequently a sort of consciousness, though not
consciousness of the end of the action ; and (3) as involving
a direction of various powers to a more or less distant end
outside the individual consciousness. 3 We need give only
passing notice to this definition here, for it will reappear
under a later heading of this paper.
2. The relation of Instinct to external and organic
stimulus. The various attempts to distinguish between
instinctive and reflex action have raised much discussion
about the part played by sense stimuli in the initiation of
instinct. Trying to draw too fine distinctions here, some of
the authorities flatly contradict each other. For instance,
Romanes states that " the stimulus which evokes a reflex
action is, at most, a sensation; that which evokes an instinc-
tive action is a perception " ; 4 while Carpenter asserts that
the stimuli for reflexes are wholly unconscious, and that
instincts are excited by impressions on the organs of sense. 5
Such restrictions of either term are too closely drawn, and
1 Animal Life and Intelligence, p. 433.
2 Op. cit., p. 422.
3 Hoffding' s Psychology, tr., p. 91.
4 Romanes' Mental Evolution in Animals, p. 159.
5 Carpenter's Mental Physiology, p. 48.
AN ATTEMPT AT A PSYCHOLOGY OF INSTINCT. 63
have found no general acceptance. We must look elsewhere
for the answer to the question of the relation of sense
stimulus to instinct.
Professor Baldwin takes an extreme position. He defines
instincts as " complex motor tendencies stimulated from
without". 1 This statement is not in accordance with the
prevailing theories of the relation of sensation to instinct ;
for while many authors (Bain, Sully, Preyer, Hoffding,
Volkmann, etc.) recognise the presence of sensations in
instinct, they lay little stress upon objective stimuli. They
rather call attention to stimulus coming from within the
organism. Volkmann, for instance, states that the " affec-
tively toned excitations which initiate instincts have their
ground in organic processes". 2 Hoffding and Preyer recon-
cile the two views by maintaining that both external stimulus
and organic tendencies are necessary. Preyer's statement is
somewhat as follows : after admitting that sensory peripheral
excitation is one essential condition for instinctive move-
ments, he goes on to assert that " if a special disposition or
feeling is wanting, then the instinctive movement is not
made even under the strongest and most appropriate stimu-
lus ". 3 In the same way Hoffding points out that although
" some stimulus is required to set instinct to work, yet the
action is determined far more by the motor tendencies
implanted in the individual than by the nature of the
stimulus ; this latter serves only as the opening of a valve ", 4
Summarising the results of our references on these two
topics (Instinct and Reflex Action : Instinct and Stimulus),
we find a very general acceptance of four points. (1) In-
stincts are directed to an end, of which the organism is
unconscious. (2) They are more complex than reflexes.
(3) They are less unequivocally correlated with stimulus.
(4) They contain an element of some sort of consciousness.
The psychologist is chiefly concerned with the examina-
tion of the fourth point ; he must determine what sort of
consciousness is present in instincts. There have been three
answers to this question. Some writers have maintained
that consciousness is present in instincts in the form of
inherited knowledge, thus placing instinctive actions under
the control of intelligence. Others say that instincts are for
consciousness merely emotions, or else mere feelings of
1 Baldwin's Handbook of Psychology : Feeling and Will, p. 308.
2 Volkmann's Lehrbuch der Psychologic, sec. 146.
3 Preyer's Die Seele des Kindes, part L, chap. xi.
4 Hoffding' s Psychology, tr., p. 312.
64 ALICE JULIA HAMLIX :
pleasure and pain. Others, again, classify them as im-
pulses, asserting that there is a consciousness of activity in
instincts.
3. Instinct and Intelligence. The first answer demands
least attention, since it finds little support at the present time.
On account of the evident purposiveness of instinct, Spalding
and others have thought that it must be regarded as the
manifestation of inherited ideas. The great majority, how-
ever, reject the theory for reasons stated by Wundt ! as
follows : (1) " It is impossible to prove the existence in our
own minds of any ideas which do not spring from the
experience of the individual life ". (2) "The observation of
instinct does not by any means give unqualified support to
this hypothesis." On the one hand it offers no explanation
for the frequent variations of instinct ; on the other hand, in
order to account for the minute uniformities of instinct, it
must assume "not only a single innate idea, but a whole
connected series, in a word an innate activity of thought
with a large store of experience behind it ".
The question of the relation of instinct to intelligence
leads us to digress for a moment into an examination of the
theory of instincts as "lapsed intelligence ". We are here
trespassing upon the biological domain ; but our intrusion
is justified by the fact that the theory is dependent upon
certain psychological assumptions in regard to the nature of
animal intelligence.
Lehrnami and Lewes refer all instincts to lapsed intelli-
gence. Lehmann defines instinctive movements as " those
excited more or less immediately, since by frequent repetition
the directing ideas (always present in these movements at
first) have become no longer necessary". 2 Yolkmann holds
a theory which is just the reverse of this : " Instinct is an
impulse arising without the presence of an idea ". 3 It comes
from an affectively toned excitation grounded in organic
processes.
Between these extreme views stand a large number of the
most important writers on the subject. They accept the
theory of lapsed intelligence as a partial explanation of
instincts, and especially of those observed in the higher
animals. But they find it equally necessary to assume the
Darwinian theory, since it covers instincts in the lower
animals that are inexplicable by the alternative hypothesis.
1 Wundt's Human and Animal Psychology, tr., p. 393.
2 Lehmann' s Hauptgesetze des menschlichen Gefuhklebens, sec. 183.
3 Yolkmann's Lehrbuch der Psychologie, sec. 146.
AN ATTEMPT AT A PSYCHOLOGY OF INSTINCT. 65
Wundt remarks that Darwin's theory explains instinct as
" inherited habit determined principally by the influences of
environment ". l And he adds that there is no necessary
antagonism between this view and that which makes
instinct a mechanised (or " lapsed ") intelligent action.
Both theories are held by Wundt, Baldwin, Eomanes,
Morgan, Sergi, Sully and others.
Wundt is the only psychologist to attempt a definite state-
ment of the nature of the intelligence present in instinct. In
his fullest discussion of instinct he says : " A large number of
the manifestations of mental lifein animals are rightly ascribed
to individual experiences, the mechanism of which can only
be explained in terms of association ". 2 And elsewhere he
refers to instincts as " developed through ideas and the
associative and intellectual processes involved in the apper-
ception of ideas ". s
Whatever may be the final decision upon the importance
of intelligence in the formation of instincts, we are ourselves
chiefly concerned with the analysis of intelligence so far as it is
present in instincts, as they actually now exist. The follow-
ing conclusions are supported by the best discussions of
instinct, and seem to summarise all that can be definitely
settled with regard to the place of intelligence in the complex
process called instinct. Ideas are undoubtedly present,
either in the sense of the perception of external objects or
organic stimulus, or in the sense of the perception of the
movements more or less directly connected with these per-
ceptions. There is, however, in instinct proper, no idea of
the end to which the movements are directed. The ideas
present are often vague, though accompanied frequently by
intense feeling or emotion, and there is no precise correlation
between the perception of a given object and the instinctive
action. (The chicken will peck at a carpet or a newspaper
as readily as at a grain of corn.) We find intelligence here
only in the narrow sense of simple association of ideas. And
the connexion of instinctive movements with the ideas that
initiate instincts is largely dependent, as we shall see later,
upon the presence of some feeling, emotion or mental dis-
position. Instinct, then, is not essentially an idea or group
of ideas. We have now to turn to more difficult questions :
the relation of instinct to impulse, and to feeling.
4. Instinct and Impulse: Is Instinct voluntary? Here,
1 Wundt's Human and Animal Psychology, tr., p. 889.
2 Op. cit., p. 390.
3 Wundt's Physiologische Psychologic, 4th ed., ii., p. 513.
5
66 ALICE JULIA HAMLIN :
of course, we find very considerable disagreements among
the authorities. On the one hand, there is a fundamental
divergence of opinion due to the diverse theories of will
held by different schools of psychology. On the other hand,
we notice many differences in statement that owe their
existence more to different uses of terminology than
to any real discrepancy in theory. We have, in fact, a
quadruple confusion ; divergence on the relation of impulse
to will, and on both sides of this divergence confused and
inconsistent uses of the term " impulse ;> ; divergence, again,
on the relation of instinct to impulse, and again much con-
fusion in the definitions of both terms. We cannot hope
finally to disentangle this snarl of conflicting statements.
But by selecting typical instances and recalling the different
interpretations of "impulse," we shall gather up what is
most important for our present purpose.
As representatives of those w r ho regard will as the funda-
mental process of mind, and impulse as a manifestation of
will, we take Wundt and Hoffding. The following quota-
tions give Wundt's position. He defines impulse as "that
in which sensation and will are operative in a fundamental
connexion". Thus it is "the actual element of all mental
activity". 1 "Impulse is a simple act of willing unequivo-
cally determined by a single feeling." - Holding impulse to
be the primal and elementary reaction of the mind to
external stimuli, Wundt goes on to say : "Individual develop-
ment supports the general theory that voluntary acts have
not developed out of reflexes, but that reflexes are stable
and mechanised acts of will ". 3 Instinctive action is also
impulsive, that is, voluntary action ; and however far back
we may go we shall not find anything to derive it trcni
except similar, if simpler, acts of will. 4
Hoffding agrees with Wundt in making will the funda-
mental andorigiualform of consciousness. 5 And he alsomakes
instinct a manifestation of impulse. But, unlike Wundt, he
holds instinct to be more primitive than any other manifesta-
tion of will, whereas Wundt derives instinct from preceding
acts of impulse. Hence impulse with Wuudt may be reaction
to a sensation without consciousness of the end to which the
action is directed ; while with Hoffding impulse is conscious
of its end, and it is only instinct which acts blindly. 6 *
1 Op. cit., ii, p. 640. - Philosophised Studien, vi., p. 376.
3 Physiologische Psychologic, ii., p. 591.
4 Human and Animal Psychology, tr., p. 409.
* Hoffding's Psychology, tr., p. 99. 6 Op. cit., p. 323.
AN ATTEMPT AT A PSYCHOLOGY OF INSTINCT. 67
As representatives of those who distinctly recognise the
active element in instinct and impulse, yet do not regard
these as the primal activities of mind, we may take Bain and
Sully. Sully defines instinct as " a truly active phenomenon
in the shape of a semi-conscious impulse to act," l etc. And
again: "We find in the element of impulse, which is so
marked a constituent of instinctive action, a distinctly active
element, which forms the analogue and in a sense the true
genetical antecedent of the conscious pursuit of an end". 2
Bain agrees with all this, referring to instinct as " a volun-
tary act in its initial form". 3 But where Sully alludes
rather vaguely to its dependence upon some original spon-
taneous activity, Bain gives a clear and positive account of
the development of instinct from an earlier spontaneous
activity and its accompanying pleasure and pain. 4
Other writers give little or no recognition to the active
element in instinct. As an Herbartian, Volkmann defines
impulse as " the motive force of an idea ". Instincts are
"blind impulses" starting from "affectively toned excitations
grounded in organic processes". "They do not originate
from voluntary action," but by frequent repetition prepare
the way for it. 5 Baldwin's explanation of instinct and
impulse by "suggestion" seems to be really akin to Volk-
mann's view, though expressed in other terms.
Those who, like Lehmann, " hold expressions of feeling to
be fundamental, and consider that impulsive and instinctive
movements have been derived from them," 6 may be left for
special consideration, under the following heading. Enough,
I think, has been said to prove the need of something more
nearly approaching uniformity in the use of terms, as well
as the need of a more definite recognition of certain necessary
differences in these terms when used by fundamentally
different schools of psychology.
I cannot attempt here to bring order out of this chaos.
For my present purpose it is sufficient to pass two comments
upon the various opinions expressed with regard to the
relation of instinct to impulse and will. (1) All writers
recognise an active element in instinct, either as original
and voluntary activity, or as a motor discharge of some sort.
1 Sully's The Human Mind, vol. ii., p. 186.
2 Op. cit., p. 192.
3 Bain's Senses and Intellect, p. 413.
4 Op. cit., pp. 246-316.
6 Volkmann's Lehrbuch der Psychologie, sees. 143-146.
6 Lehmann 's Hauptgesetze des menschlichen Gefiihlslebens, sec. 192.
68 ALICE JULIA HAMLIN :
And (2) there is less real than apparent difference in defini-
tions of impulse as voluntary or involuntary. Wuudt, for
instance, denning impulse as " univocally determined action,"
calls it " voluntary " ; while many others, using the same
definition, call it involuntary. " Voluntary " actions, with
the latter, are restricted to acts of choice.
I conclude, then, that the active element, whether called
voluntary or not, is more prominent and unmistakable than
the ideational element ; and pass on to the consideration of
the affective element.
5. The Affective Element in Instinct: Instinct, Feeling
and Emotion. I have unavoidably touched upon this topic
in many preceding quotations bearing upon the relation of
sensation and impulse to instinct. With the exception of
those who deny that instinct is a conscious process, all the
writers whom I have cited refer with more or less emphasis
to the presence of pleasure and pain in instinct. There is,
however, much difference in their estimate of the relation of
feeling to the other elements present.
Carpenter and Romanes hardly refer to the importance of
pleasure and pain ; while Lehmann, Schneider and others
make feeling " the foundation of all psychical life "- 1 Wundt
and Hoffding do not regard feeling as thus fundamental,
but still consider it a necessary constituent of instinct. So
Wundt says "the interaction of external stimulus with
affective and voluntary response constitutes the real nature
of instinct at all stages of organic evolution ". 2 Bain makes
feeling of great importance in his theories, since he maintains
that pleasure increases vital energy, while pain lessens it.
This fact, in his opinion, is what makes instinctive and im-
pulsive action possible.
We need not enter into the controversy upon the com-
parative importance of feeling and will. We are more
concerned to know just what is covered by the element of
" feeling " in instinct. Some think of it as the tone of the
exciting sensation (Bain and Volkmann). Sergi speaks of
the pleasure or pain as the result of the instinctive action.
Sully finds emotion, rather than mere feeling, present, and
describes instinct as " a vague, undefined craving for some-
thing, and a restless striving for its realisation ". 3 All three
opinions are correct in many cases, emotions being present,
I suppose, only in the instincts of the higher animals.
1 Schneider's Der thierische Wille, p. 85.
2 Human and Animal Psychology, tr., p. 409.
3 Sully 's The Human Mind, ii., 186.
AN ATTEMPT AT A PSYCHOLOGY OF INSTINCT. 69
In conclusion, I venture to propose a formula to represent
what the psychologist finds in making a cross section of the
instinctive consciousness. 1 In constructing the formula I
assume that there are three elements of mind, sensation,
affection (pleasure-pain) and conation. Whether the
activity intended by the third is an experiential fact or an
inference from experiential facts, whether, i.e., conation
denotes an ' active ' process or a complex of organic sensa-
tions, is of no importance for the present purpose.
The element of sensation I would represent by a small s.
This covers all ideas and perceptions actually present in
instinct. Ideas are undoubtedly a part of the instinctive
consciousness, but they are obscured by feeling and impulse.
As has been said already, there is no idea in instinct of the
end toward which its acts are directed, and no precise corre-
lation of the acts with external perceptions.
The affective element is more conspicuous and more
decisive in its influence. Whether present as mere feeling of
pleasure and pain, or in the form of emotion, it is often the most
prominent element in the instinctive consciousness. If mere
feeling is present I represent it by a large A. This repre-
sents alternating pleasure and pain, accompanying either the
introductory organic sensations or the instinctive action.
If feeling is present in the form of some emotion we have,
besides the affective element, a distinct idea or group of
ideas, which we may represent by a large S, and the less
noticeable active element which we represent by a small c
(conation). Emotion will then be symbolised by SAc. 2
Finally, we must recognise the importance of the impul-
sive character of instinct, and conclude our formula by a
large C. There is unquestionably present in very many
cases of instinct the most intense ' consciousness of activity '
1 The formula used here is one already given by Professor Titchener in
the Philosophical Review, iii., p. 430. The accompanying paragraph is a
concise statement of several points which have been elaborated in the
present paper.
2 The emotions present in instinct are commonly misrepresented by
the terms in which they are described, both in scientific treatises and in
popular works. When a bird flies off its nest to attack an intruder, it is
wholly unpsychological to refer to the act as a manifestation of the
instinct of maternal love. A cross section of the bird's consciousness
would probably give a blurred perception of the intruder, accompanied
by a flurry of most unpleasant organic sensations of varying nature and
intensity, which bring up in turn a series of impulses to fly back and
forth, and to utter sharp, quick cries. " Maternal love," " sympathy," and
all similar terms should be applied to intelligent and consciously
purposive action ; and this is just what instinct is not.
70 ALICE JULIA HAMLIN : AN ATTEMPT, ETC.
(whatever this may prove on analysis to be) of which the
organism is capable. If migrating birds are imprisoned in
the autumn, they beat against the southern side of the
cage with extreme force and persistence. It seems absurd
to suppose that there is no conscious prompting to these
efforts. Neither can such a hypothesis account for the very
frequent modification of instinctive action by intelligence.
It is true that the prompting to activity becomes more
and more obscure as we pass down the scale of animal life.
Yet if Wundt is right in regarding impulse, or a consciously
active response to the environment, as the fundamental
characteristic of animal life, then the conative element must
be present in even the lowest forms of instinctive action.
Whatever one's attitude towards Wundt's primary
assumption, his discussion of instinct, as the preceding
quotations must already have indicated, is by far the most
thorough and complete. Writing from the strictly psycho-
logical standpoint, he has taken up important points ignored
by others, and is guilty of no confusion of biological inter-
pretation with psychological analysis. His conclusions are
in substantial agreement with the formula here given.
Uniting the elements noticed above, our formula will
stand as sAG; or, if emotion is present, as s [SAc]C. For
the psychologist, that is, instinct is a conscious complex in
which the perceptual elements are more or less obscured by
the strong affective tone of the mental state and by the
impulse to activities which the animal performs without
consciousness of their end, and by means of a mechanism
provided by its physical organisation.
V. VARIETY OF EXTENT, DEGREE AND UNITY
IN SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS.
BY SOPHIE BRYANT.
As one of the many grounds for variety in human nature not
the least interesting are the degree and extent to which the self
has become conscious of its qualifications, and the unity
preserved by self-consciousness as it develops. From the
relative self-unconsciousness of three years to the self-
consciousness of thirty there are many stages, with possibili-
ties of omission, or of breach and confusion at every one.
Thus we may expect to find variety, not only in the qualifi-
cations of the individual self expressing itself through in-
stinct, but in its methods of self-revelation and the effects
of that method. The self become conscious is a new factor
in life, shaping it not just as the unconscious self does.
1. Effects on character as self -consciousness deepens and
spreads.
Self-consciousness is the means by which the nexus of in-
stinct becomes continuous with the nexus of reason. It is
through self-consciousness that reason plays on instinct
to modify it, and through the same medium instinct presses
for translation into practical ideas maxims of the
instinct and thus modifies reason by finding voice in
it. In short, without self-consciousness the unity of self
and reason could not be complete could not even be an
end pursued. Reason would develop as one whole seeking
unity ; Instinct would develop as another whole or more
probably as a chaos. The two connected together in one
life, but not interpenetrating each other, might jog along
side by side in fair agreement more or less so long as cir-
cumstances did not evolve any serious disparity in the
natural bent of each. But if circumstances did occur
provoking a conflict between instinct and the practical
ideas hitherto accepted as practical wisdom, then either
there must be a battle and a defeat, or a solution must be
found in which the instinct gets itself accepted as standing
72 SOPHIE BRYANT.
for a sound maxim. Now the defeat of reason by an instinct,
as such, is demoralising, even when the instinct is better
than the narrow view of life it overturns. Such a defeat
is the beginning of a bad habit : if one instinct may defeat
reason so may another. Hence it is actually true that such
innocent Sabbath breaking as in a Catholic country would
be the order of the day (led by the ministers of religion,
with the county brass band), may be the beginning of
moral perdition in Sabbatarian Scotland. The defeat of
the instinct by reason, on the other hand, is the common
case of resisting temptation. Yet it may be that the in-
stinct, as judged by a higher intelligence, is more reason-
able than the half-awakened reason with which it conflicts,
and then there is need for some process by which the
instinct, making its pressure felt, comes to be translated
into an idea and to gain acceptance as a principle
among other principles of action. This is the function
which self-consciousness performs ; and probably its de-
velopment is greatly forwarded by a life full of much
ethical demand and difficulty, requiring frequent readjust-
ment of principle to include the wisdom and exclude
the unwisdom of instinct.
Even in our full blossom of practical wisdom we differ
curiously, though within limits, from one another. On the
same plane of wisdom our first principles may be the same,
and even then the distribution of emphasis the emphasis
of instinctive individuality among them may be so different
as to make the totals differ widely. My practical wisdom is,
relative to me, the best formula I can find to include all
the better impulses of my nature, some of which would fail
to thrill in response to some other formula ideally better.
The variety of these formulae is as the variety of tunes that
can be played with the seven notes of the musical scale.
Thus, though we conceive the moral law as one, the in-
dividual conscience hears it as a melody varying with the
unconscious nature of the individual. The perspective of
reason varies with the instinctive point of view. Our original
differences do not vanish with growing self-consciousness
though they become less acute.
We are here concerned, not with this unconscious but
with another kind of diversity, the extent, namely, to
which self has become conscious. On this depends the ex-
tent of the united as compared with the dual self. It can-
not be doubted that most persons, if not all, are in this
sense more or less dual : there is a something or other of
instinct left over in them of which they could give no
EXTENT, DEGREE, AND UNITY IN SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS. 73
account do not know, but which does or may influence
their conduct, and might on occasion of conflict, formulate
itself in consciousness as a principle. This idea of a self
transcending the self revealed in consciousness has, it may
be noticed in passing, the same charm as pertains to the
idea of infinite possibilities in any department of knowledge.
It is dull to have reached a final end in any topic ; very dull
to feel that nothing new will ever reveal itself in an intimate
friend's character ; most dull to have penetrated to the very
bottom of one's own secret depths. And, happily, we never
can be quite sure that some self-revelation is not yet in
store for us.
We should therefore take as our type of a full self-con-
sciousness not a self-revelation already complete, but that
amount of self-knowledge and, still more, that capacity for it
which is required to maintain intact at every point the unity
of reason and right l instinct. We may think of sound sell-
knowledge as of sound knowledge in other topics : the
alumnus is not he who has a vast knowledge of particulars,
but he who knows enough and knows it so that he can know
whatever else he wants as occasion requires. Thus regarded,
self-knowledge is that kind and that degree of skill in know-
ledge which makes right instinct continuous with reason,
and which, by making clear the opposition between this
fortified reason and unlawful instinct, makes it easy to keep
the latter under control. And here we see the psychological
connexion between Socrates' injunction to " know thyself "
and his faith in the control of conduct by reason.
Those lack sufficient self-knowledge, and have thus a
settled duality of nature, who are content to go on with their
instincts blindly or aided only occasionally by sidelights
from reason. These sidelights from reason give the form
of conscience, the instincts co-operating with them give the
sanction of intuitive force, and a very effective type of
conscientiousness may be thus realised when the instincts
that could be recognised as principles have throughout the
upper hand. This might be called the semi-conscious con-
scientious type.
Semi-consciousness, i.e., when the total scheme of action
is half understood, yields many eccentric types persons, for
instance, giving rein to de-socialising instincts, for which
they invite the sanction of some crude jumble of practical
ideas more or less irrelevant to the instincts in question.
1 By right instinct is meant instinct that can be reconciled with reason
as a whole.
74 SOPHIE BRYANT.
Strangely like them are their sworn foes, in whose souls the
prevalent instincts of conservation or of master}- rally
desperate!} 7 , but blindly, round some formula, though sup-
porting it often enough with arguments no whit more
relevant. The mark of both is combination of the form of
rational conscientiousness with strange irrationality of
content.
More wholesome is that much slighter degree of self-
consciousness which, to all intents and purposes, is uncon-
sciousness of instinct except as expressed. In such case
there is no conscious attempt to combine reason with
instinct in the guidance of life, except, indeed, to use reason
for estimating the means to instinct's ends. The rationality
of conduct is then only understood in this secondary sense, and
for good or evil living all depends on the beneficent or male-
ficent balance of instinct. There is much to be said in
appreciation of this type when the balance is beneficent.
The sudden blaze of instinct warms more genially than the
steady beam of reason, and so the unconsciousness of good
instinct is lovable pre-eminently.
Nevertheless, it is in natures moved peaceably, because
powerfully, by a balance of fairly reasonable instinct that we
find certain characteristic and ineradicable faults resting in
the main on a fine and permanent inaccessibility to ideas.
Such inaccessibility is an obvious characteristic of those
whose life is rooted mainly in an unshakeable unconscious-
ness. Instincts that cannot be expressed as principles can-
not be dealt with as entering into the ideal of conduct and
cannot therefore be in themselves modified by or incorpo-
rated with reason. And so, as we know, the silent uncon-
scious people, whose uumeditative goodness delights the
heart and whose stability of conduct gives rest to the soul,
afflict us by their entire unmanageability on occasions
demanding any readjustment of the instinctive current of
ideas or conduct.
In fact, new ideas are naturally excluded, not intellectually
of necessity, though there will be a bias of attention against
them, but at least as practical i.e., influencing conduct
because in such cases no ideas as such influence conduct
very much. When instinct dominates conduct the peace
may be kept between instinct and reason in several ways.
The most typical way for the unconscious man is not to
hear " the voice of reason " as a practical voice at all. That
many persons live for the most part outside reason (i.e.,
without much attention to and action on ideas of conduct
except as means to ends) is apparent from the small regard
EXTENT, DEGREE, AND UNITY IN SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS. 75
to ethical reflexion with which popular preachers and their
public are content. To a few points not all by any means
important points the attention is directed and thereby the
will attached. These appear in consciousness as conscience,
and being attended to, enter as constituents into the sum
total of will co-operating with or modifying the instincts
according to their force. But the will takes on no mandate
from reason as a whole, and for the most part the current
of thought flows on quite smoothly, with very little influence
on the conduct of life. This presents a spectacle as strange
to the practical idealist as the practical idealist's every-day
experience of motive ideas and intelligible instincts is to the
unconscious and therefore non-rational soul, or rather to the
unpractical reason accustomed to turn back on itself. The
development of ethical thought must tend on the whole to
melt down the wall of separation between instinct and
reason to produce practical idealists but it seems quite
possible to think a whole system of ethics clearly and
certainly to think little bits of moral doctrine without
being moved out of the speculative into th'e practical atti-
tude. There might therefore be ready accessibility to ideas
intellectually with no influence of these on life.
This defect of practicality in ideas of practical import
seems to some persons quite natural, to others almost unin-
telligible, and so the practical and the speculative idealist
may be as the poles apart in conduct. A primordial
difference in character may be suggested as cause, namely,
the magnitude and instinctive direction of the subjective
energy. Low subjective energy is unfavourable to any sur-
plus of voluntary energy for conduct over and above the
expenditure in attention to ideas. And given considerable
energy it may tend originally to divide itself in any propor-
tion between activity in thought and in deed. One may
think so hard on virtue as to be incapable of the effort it
requires. Or one may waste in feeling.
Education cannot increase the store of subjective energy,
though fresh air, good food, and exercise may ; but education
can alter the habitual distribution from any extreme to a
satisfactory mean ratio. As Aristotle taught us long ago,
virtue each virtue may become a habit or secondary
instinct by constant and unremitting practice. Thus the
general habit of practical reasonableness can be acquired by
the practice of carrying out all practical ideas whatever they
may be. Facilities of time and opportunity should be given
to children from an early age to make easy little plans and
carry them out, and throughout the utmost care should be
76 SOPHIE BRYANT.
taken that ideas of beneficent action more particularly be
not checked. Perhaps no department of education is more
liable to neglect and perversion than this one. If the idea
of reason as it develops is to be practical, then it must be
lived as it comes to light.
The individual history in this way educates persons very
differently. People become practical as the exigencies of
life demand practicality from them, but a life monotonous,
luxurious and irresponsible will leave the ratio of specula-
tion to practice just where it congenitally was. No amount
of careful education would do away with the variety thus
born of diversity in the circumstances of life, but the great
extremes which are full of mischief might be abolished the
man who meditates but does not act, and the man who acts
but does not deliberate.
Defect of deliberativeness is the mark of an over-practical
distribution of the subjective energy. In that case attention
to an object of practical import dissolves at once into the
instinct it is hardly a resolve to act. The speculative
interest which prompts us to turn the matter over, to look
at it in relation to other objects, the ideas that make up our
practical wisdom generally, to orientate ourselves with re-
spect to it and so on, is here deficient. The agent leaps
out in act ; " something is to be done, therefore do it," i.e.,
the first thing that conies into the head. Perhaps few fates
are more trying than life with a very over-practical person,
and no two opposites go worse in harness than over-practice
and over-deliberation. They do not ameliorate, but aggra-
vate each other. Both are curable, but two of the same
sort together have a better mutual influence. The defect of
deliberation in one stimulates deliberative effort in the
other, and just as a hasty pair soon find out the incon-
venience of hastiness, in the same way the over-deliberative
pair are stimulated to compensate each other's faults.
2. The process of self-consciousness.
But it is high time to approach the inquiry : How is self
known, and as what, in consciousness ? This brings us into
the very heart of our problem. What is it that I am aware of
as my own self ? How does this consciousness differ from
one to another ?
Our business here is not with the origin of the simple
unqualified consciousness of existence as pertaining to the
subject in knowledge. Our question is as to the develop-
ment of self-consciousness the qualification of this prim-
ordial I-ness. The distinction of self from things known
emerges in consciousness as the differentiation of feeling and
EXTENT, DEGREE, AND UNITY IN SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS. 77
knowing. We make this clear to ourselves by conceiving
the pre-self-conscious stage of life as resembling brief rest-
ing moments of later years when consciousness is so vague
that neither do objects nor feelings appear in it. All, or
nearly all, of us have these vacant moments, and some
persons of fine bovine physique as well as persons of
feeble, easily exhausted frame have such moments very
often and very long. They do not present even confused
states of feeling and thought : they are states in which both
being nascent neither is distinguished. From these, know-
ledge and feeling emerge together, and the feeling is the
qualification of the subject, in which qualification it comes
to consciousness as " self".
I know the objects of consciousness as related to each
other, I feel them as affecting "me". Full consciousness
is never without this duality, self-consciousness, an under-
current of feeling flowing on behind the objective conscious-
ness which is the normal field of perception and thought.
My feelings, as such, I do not strictly know. I am aware of
them, or rather they are " me," and I appear to myself as
their series, not a disparate series, but a continuous flow, each
part of which has a living, though dim, share in all other
parts, these being revivable through it. My feeling at one
moment at least, in any moment of strong feeling is an
integral of my feelings in all moments of my life. Only
some circumstance that operates like the waters of Lethe
impairs the truth of this momentous fact. I give my mind
for a moment to my present state of feeling, grave or gay,
and all my life-history of feeling rushes in upon me, though
the only clear evidence I can offer is in the rise to objective
consciousness at such times of odd scraps belonging to
various periods of my life. It may, of course, be argued that
the odd scraps come up through the association of ideas,
and awaken feelings like to those they roused before. But
in the first place the rush of feeling to the past, in a moment
simply characterised by strong feeling a deepened sub-
jectivity follows concentration on the feeling, and is so
miscellaneous as to preclude explanation by any other than
by subjective association, i.e., through feeling of self. In the
second place, the odd scraps show no connexion according
to the laws of association by objective similarity or con-
tiguity. In the third place, they have one feature in com-
mon, and, so far as I can see, only one : they are connected
with, and have become symbolic of, the life-events about
which " J " have felt much in which " / " have been deeply
interested, feeling deeply. This is the similarity in the mis-
78 SOPHIE BRYANT.
cellaneous group thronging the objective memory when I
pause in my day's work and relapse into feeling myself.
And so I argue that the link of association is subjective
that in feeling myself I feel my past of feeling, so that all
the deep events of feeling recur in me. So in reflective self-
consciousness, a happy moment means a happy life, and the
sadness of a sad life is most of all seen in the saddened self-
consciousness of old age. Thus the qualification of me to
myself is my life history of feeling.
Let me give an example : misunderstanding is so easy.
During two weeks of somewhat depressed health I had
prudently kept myself as much as possible out of my
thoughts seeing that the self-consciousness of a person
physically depressed is apt to take tone from the general
depression. But one morning I became conscious of being
myself again well when I heard the birds not only
singing outside my window, but making me feel their song
as I had not done for a week or so. Pleasure of the cheerful
sounds went into me, and this deepened into the pleasure
of feeling myself as a physical whole better, and with that
I dropped cheerfully into a strongly self-conscious mood for
a brief space. At the end of that space I was myself in the
complex ; a vast complex mixture of pain and pleasure was
upon me, while floating dimly in imagination were the
familiar oft-recurring scraps of painful and pleasant re-
membered scenes and events. Not least noteworthy among
these and in a middle state of feeling most steady on the
whole, was that kaleidoscopic group of images into which
seems to be condensed all emotional life-history of a child-
hood, healthy, serene and abounding in hopefulness. Visual
imagery is apt to be for me the expression of feeling : a
stronger wave carries me on to the vocal and auditory
organs. And so my symbols of childhood's feelings are first of
all an outlook towards blue mountains and a beautiful wide
river flowing past the meadows behind my early home, a path
through the fields, and a stretch of wood between house and
river, a boat-house, a big safe boat on the river, and two
children a boy and girl in the boat with oars altogether
out of proportion to their size. These images change into a
thousand others belonging to the same or later dates ; but
I think I may safely say that myself as a permanent thing
never entirely changed by many great changes coils itself
round no one of its many symbols in imagination more
securely than round this image of a wide river flowing
between hills and woods. From all of which may be drawn
the practical inference that a happy wholesome childhood
EXTENT, DEGREE, AND UNITY IN SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS. 79
especially between ten and twelve is a good that no pains
should be spared to secure.
It is undoubtedly true that while the momentary self-
consciousness partakes of the series of feelings which make
the life-history, this whole is greatly affected by the feeling
tone of the moment. If the subjective disturbance of the
immediate event is pleasant, the whole tends more to the
revival of past pleasures than in the opposite case. Like
revives like in the feeling of the subject as in the qualifica-
tions of the object. And so when there comes a moment of
vivid inward consciousness, the life-history rises dimly as
before, but so that it tends to turn out the bright or the
gloomy side according to the tone due to the present
moment. Good health begets and preserves cheerfulness
because it is favourable to joyous present moments in which
the self-conscious memory turns out its sunny side. Good
endowment of eye and ear, of imagination and intellect, all
tend to the contribution of pleasure more than pain, and so
through momentary pleasures they colour the total subjec-
tive mood pleasantly from time to time. Ill health, imper-
fect senses, feeble imagination, deficient intellect, all conduce
either to lower the total subjective tone or to leave it at least
unraised ; though not less noteworthy is it that the total
colours them.
One melancholy consequence of the psychical law by
which the whole series of feeling revived the integral of
feeling, as it might be called is assimilated in tone to its
last-coming constituent, is the cumulative effect of sorrow
following sorrow in life. This may easily escape superficial
observers, who, remembering that we can re-adjust our
tastes and attention to endure contentedly most of the minor
ills of life, assume hastily that even pain as such loses its
quality by repetition. The fact, however, is that a new
sorrow, reaching deep enough to rouse self-consciousness,
rouses all the old sorrows more than the old joys, and the
resultant subjective state is an integral of grief present and
past. The second blow hits harder than the first. Pain
cumulates in proportion to the unity and vividness of the
emotional self-consciousness.
3. Variety in degree and unity of the self as felt.
This leads us to our question as to the varieties of
character implied in the above considerations. Self -con-
sciousness as it concerns us here reposes on the emotional
unity of the subject throughout life. Now this emotional
unity may be more or less continuous and whole. The
emotions may also be more or less vivid. Here then
80 SOPHIE BEYANT.
are two lines of characterisation which let us follow-
further.
With variations in the vividness of feeling from time to
time we are all familiar, and we know that this does not
vary simply with variations in the vividness of imagination.
At one extreme is a peculiar deadness of feeling a state in
which nothing seems to matter much, as if there were no
subjective reaction at all except in so far as implied for
cognition in the movements of attention. In this state it is
as if we had withdrawn out of reach of the simple pleasure
stimuli, were too far off to feel although we know them.
There is no capacity for a thrill of pleasure or a twinge of pain.
We can will and think correctly, but we hardly feel.
In such case it will be found that the consciousness of self
grows or has grown dim. It recedes, leaving the objective
field clear and even vivid. From this field self is remote, as
though it were a mere unconnected spectator of some show
that might be happening anywhere, at any time, to any
person. The deadness of feeling, in fact, deadens the sense
of self in relation to the present moment. At the same time
it may very well happen that when this state is consequent
on mental shock the common case the consciousness of
self as immersed in some part of the past should be quite
vivid. The other case may happen also.
A low susceptibility to feeling may, however, exist as their
normal state in particular persons, giving the effect to others
of a sort of subjective horniness or encrustation, and to them-
selves of a dull immunity from thrill and twinge, of which
occasional more vivid moments may make them conscious.
The subjective reaction in them is habitually either cognitive
or outwards towards the instincts in the main. They do
not expend energy in mere feeling nor in its consequence,
the free and playful discourse of imagination. Physiologically
this may mean a brain so completely organised for definite re-
action on the sensory organs and active members a wholly
and stiffly instinctive brain so that there are no free parts,
the general agitation of which gives a sounding board to the
thin initial disturbance, and thus enables it to gather volume
for the implication of the whole.
Certainly the person of vivid feeling realises himself as
responding in some massive as well as intimate way to his
experiences. They pierce him ; he goes out to them and is
himself in them. " His heart goes out," as the saying is. But
here comes another distinction the response may be warm
or cool, massive or thin : so far it is emotional, more or less.
It may also involve or not involve, more or less, the instincts
EXTENT, DEGEEE, AND UNITY IN SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS. 81
and the imagination. It may flash out in images or not. It
may blaze into and rouse or check the instincts or not.
Normally it no doubt does both, but always more or less.
Thus pleasure and pain tend not only to control the inner
and outer life by their immediate influence as retaining and
repelling the attention towards their objects, but also by the
multiform force of the back wave in subjectivity which the
broadened stimulus affords. Very strong feeling takes quite
a perceptible time before it feels piled up to its height, and
produces its further effect in consciousness. Obviously,
however, there are those who feel vividly, but not so as
to produce much effect on imagination or instinct. In that
case we are apt to say that their feelings are not deep, but
this does not really follow. The feelings may be deep
enough, but they have a certain separateness or detachment.
Or, rather, since the feeling self should be regarded as the
central fact, we should say that the instincts and im-
agination have an abnormal detachment from them. The
contrast is that between a whole which is differentiated and
not wholly re-integrated and a whole re-integrated at every
differentiation. The most perfect type would probably
consist in a personality so balanced that some degiee of
detachability (like the power of an athlete to separate
muscular actions generally conjoined) should co-exist with
such a degree of unity as makes the whole consistent with
itself.
Unity of composition in the emotional self-consciousness
was mentioned above as a characteristic according to the
degree of which persons might vary. Since the emotional
self-consciousness is an integral in time, unity of composi-
tion implies that maximum wholeness from first to last of
all past feeling in each full personal feeling which has been
already described. George Eliot puts it thus:
I am thy loved Past,
The soul that makes thee one from first to last.
To any person who approximates to this type inconsistency
between past feeling and present feeling, as for instance to-
wards persons, is very painful. The requirement that for
happiness the present state of feeling shall be harmonious
implies the requirement that the history of personal feeling
shall be a harmonious development, the changes in which
appear as slow evolution not revolution. A revolution
in feeling is in itself a heart-break to a self-consciousness
with this tenacious grip upon its past. Such persons are
hard to change in anything affecting the main current of
6
82 SOPHIE BRYANT :
their feeling, and when sudden change is forced upon them
it is like the rending of limb from limb, while a permanent
change leaves a permanent gash in self-consciousness well
called a heart-break a something that not only aches by its
failure to harmonise with the present whole in each moment,
but makes further a dull ache throughout the whole of that
self-consciousness which it has divided into two contradic-
tory parts. Affection turned to aversion is probably the
most striking example. In the more loosely integrated self-
consciousness, so commonly depicted in works of fiction,
this may appear as revolution pure and simple. Love was,
aversion is, the whole of self so far is changed : there is a
pain attached to the remembered past, but the remedy is
obvious blot the past out, withdraw attention from it,
live in the changed self to which that mistaken past be-
comes easily alien. So the past is not so much buried as
shaken off, and feeling does not tend at all to backslide into
its old attachment. This is the revolutionary temper to
which breaches of feeling come easily, because there is
less integration by nature and habit of past feeling with
present.
Between the two extremes may be found all degrees of
capacity for alienating inharmonious bits of the past, and
no doubt the capacity can be in some small measure acquired.
A severe personal shock is a lesson in alienation given at the
point of the sword, since a full escape from pain can only be
found that way. The highly conservative temper, however,
may still reject the lesson, and, instead of alienated feeling,
we may then have, as a pis aller, the withdrawal of attention
from self-consciousness as a whole so far as possible. This
is the method of burying a grief, and it is effected by con-
centration on objective concerns, till the slow modification
of feeling by the growth of new interests makes self-con-
sciousness more endurable. In such a case, reverting to our
former illustration, affection does not turn to aversion simply,
but to some strange inconsistent and unstable mixture, more
painful than either by the very nature of its composition,
and refusing to be blotted out except by the withdrawal of
attention from self.
To sum up then so far, we find in the emotional self-
consciousness three variant characteristics : (1) emotional
susceptibility, (2) effectiveness, or influence on the whole
mental movement, (3) unity of composition in itself.
4. Self -consciousness as related to the active self.
But self-consciousness is more than the consciousness of
feeling as such. As the total integral of subjectivity it
EXTENT, DEGREE, AND UNITY IN SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS. 83
includes all those feelings of agency directed energy
which go with all our voluntary or self-conscious acts.
Generically, as subjective affections these feelings of agency
may be classed as feelings and are compounded equally with
other feelings in the whole subjective series, over against
which stands the objective series of cognition and external
act. Specifically the feeling of agency is distinguished from
feeling in the emotional sense by the direction in which it is
felt to work, i.e., towards effects in the objective rather than
in the subjective series. Real states or shall we say events ?
of feeling are (at least generally) complex in character, so
that the feeling which stirs up more feeling and the feeling
of agency are both exemplified.
Nevertheless because of its peculiar significance the active
side of the whole series claims some attention on its own
account. Self-consciousness as related to the active self is
the unity of the total self in its life of feeling with each
feeling of agency as it arises. Hence an instinct may be
said to enter into self-consciousness when it awakens feelings
that enter into composition with the total of feeling, and
thus draws the total into reaction in conjunction with it.
The total will repel or support the instinct according as the
feeling excited by the instinctive reaction is harmonious
with the total or not. In the latter case the incorporation
of the instinct in self-consciousness to the eventual loss no
doubt of its character as instinct has begun.
Obviously in the development of the self-conscious series
on its active side there is occasion for the appearance of
much individual variety. Every impulse come to self-
consciousness, and harmonious with it, tends to draw the
full force of the united whole into its alliance. And, on the
other hand, every new element of self-consciousness, clear
or obscure, is a new feature in character capable of attempt-
ing a bias to reason, and powerful in proportion to the
obscure force of impulse behind it. The significance in self-
consciousness of these silent instinctive forces on which it
rests is so great that some consideration of the nature of that
significance pertains to our subject.
5. General effects of the instinctive self on self -consciousness.
The supreme imperative of instinct is that element in
conscience which makes it real. The psychological "must"
that proceeds from the depths of our nature and absorbs all
the strivings of our activity into it affects us as is to us
while so affecting us the ethical "ought ". Nature would
be outraged if this thing were not done. In impulsive
natures it may be the wrong thing, but under the stress of
84 SOPHIE BRYANT:
an all-absorbing instinct it seems right, holy, morally im-
perative. But in such case the impulse has towered with
passionate grandeur above reason, has not been at one with
the counsels of the one self in which reason and impulse
cohere. A part has not only led, but it has usurped the
authority of the whole. It is possible, however, to be
passionately moved by an imperative instinct, in which
reason inheres. We are sometimes moved swiftly to do
that of which in a lifetime of reflexion we continue to
approve. This happens either because the instinct is itself
a profoundly rational one, like courage, or sincerity, or
loyalty in affection, or because the impulsive reaction has
included such a rapid intellectual survey of the whole matter
as to secure that the mandate issued shall be agreeable to
the mental content as a whole. One of the educated man's
leading instincts is to deliberate always when called upon
to act. By practice, as well as innate gift, this instinct may
become extraordinarily rapid : this is none other than the
quality of " presence of mind," a most pregnant title.
" Presence of mind " ; is thus always co-operating
instinctively with any other instinct which the occasion
may call forth, and the special instinct leaps to its end
with the mandate of consciousness in the full sense be-
hind it.
But the deliberative instinct may not have developed into
the perfection of presence of mind; and in that case it
retards all instinct, and may even enfeeble the will when the
reason itself is dialectically feeble. The most vivid moments
of life are doubtless those in which consciousness roused to
its utmost limits by some passionate outburst of instinct
backs the instinct with unanimous acclaim. But these
moments are not given to all, and those who have had them
will know of other moments when the eager call for light
brought no light in response.
It has already been shown how self-consciousness operates
for the resolution of the conflict between reason and instinct,
and of that between opposing instincts. It may be thought
that the habit of deliberativeness is favourable to this pro-
cedure, but reflexion on a course of conduct after it has
occurred is no doubt the ordinary means of self-revelation.
Indeed the person whose instincts are so integrated with his
reason as never to give way to unwarranted instinct has not
such good opportunities for observing the details of his
nature as another would have who acting frequently on
pure instinct learns to see, as it were, the parts of himself
in his acts. The one moves reason controlled through life,
EXTENT, DEGBEE, AND UNITY IN SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS. 85
his eyes turned away from the springs of passion that move
him. The other learns to see himself in every errant act if
only he take pains to look at his motives afterwards. He
sees himself as jealous, mean, cruel, selfish, cowardly, affec-
tionate, true, faithful, sympathetic, hospitable, brave. No
doubt the Pharisee and the Publican were extremes of these
two types, and it is easy to see that the after-reflexions of
the Publican might be the more conducive to improvement
for the future. Lack of self-knowledge is the characteristic
psychological defect of the "righteous who need no re-
pentance," and the Pharisee of the parable so rightly
abhorred is the man who, in defect of self-knowledge,
reflects upon and approves himself. The feeling that
proved liability to error makes a man more human is
justified by the fact that it makes him more conscious of
the limits in his own nature. A man is not more human
because he is more faulty but because he is more conscious
of the disintegrating forces in his own soul. The best type
is that of the man who by their pressure learns to know
these forces but is able to maintain his whole as conscience
against them.
It should be noticed, however, that the knowledge of error
may carry the consequence of an attempt to justify it not
by reason but by reasons. Or even without this attempt
at sophistication, the man, having erred, may harden himself
in his error in defiance of reason and his better instincts. A
child, on provocation, has broken his instinct or habit of
truthfulness. In the first place, a lie henceforth looks more
possible to him than it did before ; the effect of a single
breach of habit is enormous. This is the beginning of that
process of "hardening the heart," the antidote to which is
the repentance that renews the broken habit and looks back
on the breach with shame and horror. More serious still
than the simple " hardening of the heart " is the sophisti-
cation of the reason, by which the authority of the broken
habit is explained away. Educated minds seldom " harden
the heart " without some attempt to " sophisticate the
reason ". Indeed they are perhaps more apt than the
uneducated to take their errors thus impenitently, because
they cling more to the ideal of acting under reason. This is
se^-righteousness without the righteousness.
As another illustration it may be noted that the biographers
of great men often do them serious injustice by a similar
sophisticated gloss of their errors, by which the reader is given
the unfair impression that they themselves were self-
righteous in wrong-doing. The true defence of a great
86 SOPHIE BRYANT :
man's memory is to show not that he sinned on system,
but that all his errors brought the amendment of shame and
remorse. Thus the admirers of Goethe seek to defend him
by minimising the significance of his ill-faith to Frederika,
though his truer defence lies ready to hand in the bitter
self-reproaches which he did not spare.
The righteous man, however, the vigilance of whose
"presence of mind" preserves from error, may yet have
much occasion to learn himself, especially if there be some
complexity in the circumstances of his life. Borne forward
on the wave of some strong impulse, he will see, afterwards
at least, that although reason consented, the deed being
fairly rational, it was not all reason or his judgment of
right. And thus reflecting there will be revealed to him
deeply rooted attachments, invincible defensive instincts,
pivoting his will. The more clear the revelation the more
surely will he know that these are the warp in the web of
conscience, without which the judgments of reason would
fall idly apart like the separate though orderly threads of
the woof. The work of self-consciousness is to express
these beneficent instincts as principles and to weave them
into the system of the developed conscience ruling life.
Moreover, he will find in himself instincts also of another
temper, though the self-controlled man will never to the
full become aware of the possibilities of evil in himself.
Nor is there value in the sort of scrutiny which searches for
these roots of evil when they do not put forth stem and
leaf. Liability to the instincts out of which error arises,
is not error is not even character when the error does
not come near to occurrence.
Yet in the current of such liability one human nature
may differ not a little from another. Such differences will,
I think, appear chiefly in our social rather than in our self-
consciousness, in our sympathies, antipathies, tolerances and
intolerances. We sympathise with that which we might be or
do as well as with that which we consciously are. Instincts
in ourselves of which we are unconscious, having never given
them play, will make us sympathise with others manifesting
them. But this is only within certain limits. As I have on
another occasion tried to show, the obscure instincts which
we stifle most mercilessly come so far to the surface in us
when others manifest them as to make us understand and
shrink in abhorrence from those others. Thus beyond
certain limits acceptable to conscience obscure instincts
cause us to be antipathetic to their like. Simple intolerance
of Others I would distinguish from antipathy as an effect
EXTENT, DEGREE, AND UNITY IN SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS. 87
produced by the character in another which stifles or makes
impossible the exercise of some instinct in ourselves. The
aversion which a person of constant mind has for fickleness
is of this kind, and this may be quite unconscious of its
cause. Egoists, since their instincts exclude each other,
are mutually intolerant as well as antipathetic. Rivals
hate each other in this double way.
Thus, not to dwell on this subject at too great length in
this place, we may read much of our unconscious nature in
our social consciousness. But this needs much discrimina-
tion. Moreover, I warn myself that I am passing beyond
the bounds of the subject.
The readings of self in the movements of instinct con-
trolling conduct may be compared with similar readings
relative to the movements of attention controlling thought.
The variety of intellectual interest may be compared with
the variety of moral instinct. And interest like instinct
may be unconscious and remain so long. We may fail to
become conscious of a special interest or intellectual bias
either because circumstances furnish no opportunity for its
exercise, or because, though it acts, it is always merged in
some larger scheme of interest which it subserves, and from
which it is not distinguished. For example, the interest in
the concrete of sensuous details is merged by one in his.
talent as a realistic painter, while in another it is part of his
equipment for the study of the natural sciences. Without
this interest either of these two persons would miss his char-
acteristic mark ; but the leading part it takes is probably
not part of self-consciousness in the one case or in the
other. It will probably come to light in consequence of
definite introspective activity, supported it may be by the
remarks of other persons. Whether any particular person
is interested enough in himself as an object of knowledge
to follow up such lines of reflexion is in itself a question.
This kind of self-consciousness depends specially on having
this kind of psychologic interest. Just as some care to study
the anatomy of beetles and the physiology of plants, so
others find supreme interest in the analysis of the mental
conditions revealed in a consciousness of self.
Self-consciousness at this point shows to the man his springs
of observation and thought springs inclining him this way
or that in the apprehension of truth, though free from the
bias of moral instincts. These latter also colour our know-
ledge of the world, but more grossly, so that the skilled in-
tellect can detect and eliminate the bias given. The bias
of our special intellectual interests however, the excessive
88 SOPHIE BRYANT:
taste for sensuous detail, the quick eye for mathematical
form, to say nothing of the minor special interests which
make one musical person look first for fulness and variety
of tone, while another searches and seizes on rhythmical
movement these instincts of intellect are not detected
subjectively by general skill of intellect but by skill intro-
spectively ; and this is more rare. Objectively they are
detected, where work of any importance is done, by the
peculiar quality of the work. A great man who has ex-
pressed himself much is above all things intelligible from
this point of view. It does not take much skill, for in-
stance, to characterise a Goethe intellectually by the extra-
ordinary interest in the concrete which shows not more in
the quality of his proper work than in his natural science
tastes, his aversion to mathematics, and his ineffective
attempts to acquire skill in painting. But Goethe in all
probability never so characterised himself, and if he did we
may be sure that his judgment of himself was no whit less
objective than is ours. We cannot suppose that he ever saw
into his own characteristic group of intellectual interest
with anything like the psychologic insight with which he
saw his moral self. In truth, nothing is more obscure to
most of us than this intellectual self. We find it peculiarly
difficult to feel what we are, because it is so peculiarly
difficult to get any feeling of what it is to be what we are
not in the sphere of intellect. The brave man can get a
very good inkling of how the coward feels, and thus he gets
to feel his own characteristic instinct more clearly. But how
shall a mind deficient in pure literary interest get any touch
of the scholar's passionate joy in words, and how shall one
whose interest is absorbed in the presentation of sensuous
detail have a feeling of the geometrician's delight in the
discovery of curves, 1 not as beautiful, not even as explaining
natural forms, but per se ?
The explanation of this obscurity would seem to be that
the intellectual self has a lower degree of consciousness
(I do not here mean self-consciousness) than the moral
self, because less feeling goes with its activity and self notes
itself in feeling. Much intellectul life is hardly felt at all, and
this tends to obscurity. The robust feelings that go with the
moral life lend themselves readily to imaginative construction,
by which we get notions of persons unlike ourselves, and
notions of an ideal or standard person. But few persons could
1 A curve, mathematically, is not anything one chooses to draw, but
is what it is because it follows some law known or unknown.
EXTENT, DEGREE, AND UNITY IN SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS. 89
grasp the emotional experience of the intellectual processes
adequately enough for similar construction. Let any one
try to get hold of his musical instincts supposed fairly good
with a view to building up a feeling of how Beethoven's
mind felt when he worked, and if he succeeds in this exercise
of imagination, let him further get to see just how it
is that he is not a composer like Beethoven. If he succeeds
in these two exercises he will have gained self-consciousness
of his musical instincts. The opposite process a much
easier one I have tried on myself in process of studying the
practical problem to teach very unmusical children to sing a
scale. One could not begin to study the problem upwards
without an itch for musical composition in some degree. An
itch for writing poetry is common enough, but how difficult
it is for any of us to explain just how it is that we are not
great poets. We can learn to see the defects of what we
write, but we cannot find what is wanting in ourselves,
because we cannot imagine the poet's mind with anything
like the clearness which belongs to the common man's vision
of the high-souled hero. And yet there is this in common
between the two attempts by study of the poet in his
poetry we get drawn into intellectual sympathy with him,
just as the contemplation of the hero creates understanding
through sympathy in meaner souls.
On the whole it may be said that although self-conscious-
ness may by close reflexion be made to embrace the intellec-
tual self, it does not do so naturally except in persons
specially marked by the introspective interest. Nevertheless
the intellectual self should be regarded as a part, although
an obscure part, of the object self which is better known to
us in the instincts and emotions of the moral sphere.
The obscure instincts of the intellectual self, working as
reason and as imagination on the total of consciousness,
cannot but play an effective part to give individual shape
and colour to the consciousness of self, and thus to affect
further the development of character.
VI. DISCUSSIONS.
ETHICS FROM A PURELY PRACTICAL STANDPOINT.
I HAVE read Mrs. Bain's interesting article on the above title in
the July number of MIND. As she refers to some of my statements
in illustration of the unpractical character of Neo- Kantian or
Idealistic Ethics perhaps I may be permitted one or two words of
explanation. It seems a pity that Utilitarians like Mrs. Bain should
unwittingly misrepresent the Idealistic view. With all due allow-
ance for the alleged obscurity of the writers who support it I cannot
help thinking that if the opponents of that view had taken half as
much trouble to understand it as its champions have taken to
understand Utilitarianism this would not have been so. It seems
especially a pity in a discussion of this kind, which is nothing if
not serious, to insinuate any want of sincerity on either side. I do
not know for instance why it should be hinted as it seems to be on
p. 334 that Mr. Spencer is superior to Idealistic writers in not
" pandering to received views ". I should have thought that a
theory such as that of the Neo-Kantians, expressly disowning
as it does all appeal to merely selfish interests, is much more
opposed to the frankly egoistic basis of much of the popular and
even religious teaching of the present time than Mr. Spencer's,
which is at best a compromise between egoism and altruism. Pass-
ing over this and speaking for myself alone, I shall state the issue
raised by Mrs. Bain as it presents itself to me, and my reason for
suspecting the claims of current Hedonism to be a good working
theory in ordinary practice.
Both Idealists and Utilitarians appeal to consequences as a test
of conduct. It seems odd that Mrs. Bain should speak throughout
as though the appeal to consequences were a monopoly of Utili-
tarians. Idealists have always emphasised the point that conduct
takes effect in a w r orld of concrete interests, and that its value must
be tested by its tendency to further the supreme interest of human
life, whatever that may be. They differ from Utilitarians in their
way of conceiving of this supreme interest. Utilitarians say it is
the greatest amount of pleasure ; Idealists say it is the development
of a system of activities which depend for their value not on the
amount of agreeable consciousness with which they are accom-
panied, but on their harmony with an ideal of human life. It is
ETHICS FROM A PURELY PRACTICAL STANDPOINT. 91
well to state these theories in terras of " pleasure " and " system "
respectively, and to avoid such question-begging terms as "happi-
ness," " well-being " and " welfare" which are used by both
indifferently. Mrs. Bain is apparently unaware of this ambiguity
and uses " well-being " as though it were clearly synonymous with
greatest pleasure.
The question that Mrs. Bain proposes is, Which of these
theories is the more effective, first as a guide, second as a motive, to
desirable conduct ?
To the Utilitarian the interest of her paper will consist not as
she seems to suppose in the originality of her question but in the
heresy of her answer. J. S. Mill as everybody knows was led by
his personal experience to maintain that from the point of view of
individual happiness it was not desirable to cultivate the habit of
considering conduct from the hedonistic point of view. The best
practical results were in his opinion to be obtained by avoiding
the use of the pleasure calculus, and pursuing objective interests
as though they had a value on their own account. Mr. Spencer
may be said to have extended this " paradox of Hedonism " to the
sphere of politics and an altruistic conduct in general. He tries
to show that here also the best results are obtained by setting
before ourselves and others not the production of happiness as the
immediate object, but the maintenance of the conditions of life.
Professor Sidgwick to this extent agrees with both that he is never
tired of emphasising the difficulties that beset the attempt to form
a direct estimate of pleasures and pains, and the undesirability of
relying on a purely utilitarian morality. Undeterred by these
authorities Mrs. Bain proposes to revert to the claim of primitive
Utilitarianism that " greatest pleasure " is not only an accurate
guide but an effective motive to desirable conduct.
Leaving Utilitarians to settle this difference among themselves,
the critic of Utilitarianism will find in Mrs. Bain's contention a
welcome simplification of the issue. In discussing the practical
difficulties of the theory as a guide to conduct and a basis of appeal
he has hitherto felt himself handicapped by the admissions of its
own supporters. Whatever he said on the difficulties of striking a
balance of pains and pleasures the Utilitarian himself was always
prepared to go one better in the same direction. And when he
pointed to the ineffectiveness of the appeal to self-interest or others'
happiness, he was met by the rejoinder that Utilitarians don't
appeal to them. But here he will feel is a plain issue. Is the
theory as unworkable in practice as he holds it to be untenable in
theory? To further simplify the question we may here leave out
all reference to the difficulties that beset the attempt to estimate
hedonic consequences with any degree of accuracy. I doubt very
much whether any one who has realised the force of the considera-
tions put forward by Professor Sidgwick and others will find in
the few sentences Mrs. Bain devotes to this subject an adequate
reply to them.
92 j. H. MUIBHEAD:
Confining myself to the question of "effectiveness" I shall
state as shortly as I can the objections which seem to me decisive
against Mrs. Bain's contention.
1. This theory sets the pleasure of the individual in competition
with general well-being. To lose sight of his own greatest
happiness (granting that it is possible at all) is as immoral as to
lose sight of the greatest happiness of others. He seems even to
be bound to give it prior consideration : " We must work," says
Mrs. Bain, following Mr. Spencer, " first for ourselves then for
others ". Yet short of the millennium Mr. Spencer foreshadows,
when the lion of egoism will lie down with the lamb of altruism,
what guarantee have we that these two will coincide ? In the
conduct demanded by the higher morality of any time with which
we are likely to have any practical acquaintance, are they not
almost certain at one point or another to collide ? And in these
circumstances with what degree of effectiveness can appeal be
made to the waverer? The reader may judge for himself of the
power of an appeal to altruistic conduct which on the pain of
insincerity and hypocrisy must be crossed by a reminder of the
danger which threatens individual happiness.
2. It is only stating the same objection from another point of
view to note that Hedonism sets the lower instincts in competition
with the higher. In all estimates the pleasure that comes from
following the lower must by the consistent hedonist be set against
that which comes from the higher. And it is inevitable in the
present stage of human development that to the great mass of man-
kind the latter should seem distant, problematic and insipid in
comparison with the former.
These points are of course only the practical side of the theoretical
objections that have been urged from all time against Hedonism.
It has frequently been pointed out that the task of proving that the
happiness of the individual and the happiness of society as esti-
mated in terms of pleasure necessarily coincide is a hopeless one.
It is in Ethics, as Mr. Leslie Stephen says, what the attempt to
square the circle is in Mathematics. Similarly from the side of
the individual and his instincts it is of course impossible to show
in every case that to follow the higher will produce greater pleasure.
It was to meet this difficulty that Mill introduced his celebrated
distinction of quality in pleasures. " This conduct," he would say,
" cannot be shown to produce more pleasure than that, but it is
higher." We all know the passage in Utilitarianism. It is
magnificent, but it is not Hedonism.
Whatever difficulties stand in the way of the attempt to make
Idealism edifying, and of course they are legion, as any one who has
ever made the rash attempt is likely to have discovered, it at any
rate escapes those that I have pointed out as fatal to Hedonism.
In the first place it proposes a definition of social good which recon-
ciles instead of merely compromising between the claims of self and
others. And in the second place it takes individual well-being to
ETHICS FROM A PURELY PRACTICAL STANDPOINT. 9S
consist not in a succession of agreeable feelings valued in proportion
to their total amount irrespective of their source but in a certain
quality of life. These contentions justify the moralist in appealing
on the one hand to a larger or social self against the narrower and
unsocial, and on the other hand to a higher life as against a lower.
If asked to define what he means by the social self and the higher
life the Idealist will have his work cut out for him. If the answer
he elaborates is a little vague who can blame him ? Aristotle warns
us against expecting the same kind of exactitude in Ethics as w&
have in Mathematics. So does Mrs. Bain. And if there is any
part of Ethics in which want of accuracy is more excusable than in
another it is in sketching the outlines of the moral ideal. But all
this only means that the acquirements of an ethical priesthood (in
the necessity of which it is interesting to notice that Mrs. Bain
along with Mr. Spencer and the Positivists believes) must go deeper
than a mere familiarity with the formulae of primitive Utilitarianism
and a turn for the arithmetic of pleasure. They must include
among other things at least some sympathy with the best ideals of
human character and some insight into the general trend of social
progress.
J. H. MUIRHEAD.
VIL CKITICAL NOTICES.
Esprits Logiques et Esprits Faux. Par FR. PAULHAN. Paris :
Felix Alcan, 1896. Pp. 362.
NOTWITHSTANDING the express statement of its author, many of
those who read his new work will be apt to regard it as a sequel
to Les Caracteres, dealing like it with a problem of comparative
rather than of general psychology, or, as M. Paulhan would ex-
press it, with applied and concrete psychology. " The mental
elements and the laws of mental activity/' he tells us in Les
Caracteres, are still the object of his research, " but instead of
considering them in themselves, as I have done in a preceding
volume, I study here the different types which the different con-
crete manifestations of these general laws produce "- 1 Similarly
in the present work, we follow out the concrete manifestations of
these laws in intellectual processes with the result that we have
presented a classification of the different intellectual types of men.
In this respect the two works correspond in method and results.
But it is one of the noteworthy features of his method that we
can with equal justness regard his work from two points of view.
The different types of the abstracted intellect as of the character
as a whole may either be regarded as stages in a general mental
development, or as crystallising themselves in types of men. It
is the former point of view which the author emphasises in the
introduction to the present work. 2
What then are these laws of mental activity? "The law
which dominates the whole life of the mind is the law of syste-
matic association which expresses the aptitude of each element,
desire, idea or image to excite other elements which are capable
of associating with it for a common end." 3 It has its complement
in " the law of systematic inhibition " which expresses the ten-
dency of the mental element to exclude all elements which cannot
further the common end. The degree in which systematic asso-
ciation is developed is, other things equal, the degree of mental
evolution ; and hence all the types may be regarded as stages in
this general development or as typifying classes of men in whom
1 Les Caracteres, p. 13. 2 Esprits Logiques, p. 35.
3 Les Caracteres, p. 12.
FB. PAULHAN, Esprits Logiques et Esprits Faux. 95
they have been arrested. To complete in outline M. Paulhan's
leading psychological conceptions, as presented in his previous
works, we must observe that he distinguishes three other laws of
association, the laws of contrast, resemblance and contiguity ;
and that when the tendencies which these laws express are not
held in check and subordinated to systematic association, the decay
of character or of intellect is presented in the degree in which
these tendencies have regained their independence. Thus we
watch the gradual dissolution of systematic association : in the
character, the tendencies are no longer connected by reference to
any single end or by the harmonious co-operation of several ; in
the intellect, the ideas are not logically connected, but controlled
by loose analogies and irrelevant conjunctions in space and time.
It would take us too far from our immediate object to criticise
our author's conception of association and of its subdivision into
these five laws : but whether we hold that they are the diverse
expression of one or two fundamental principles, I think the reader
will agree that M. Paulhan is justified for his purpose in em-
phasising their distinctions. It is obvious that the idea of an
end is not present in all mental states, and that, even when it is
present, it may not be sufficiently strong to control the stream
of events. It may suggest some other idea which has only a
superficial resemblance with itself, or one which was formerly con-
tiguous with it in the spatial or temporal order, or one which is the
contrast of itself ; and these ideas of superficial resemblance, marked
contrast, or of the irrelevant context, may in no way further the end
which the first idea had in view. The first idea has failed to suggest
only those ideas which are of service to its end, to exclude all those
which are irrelevant or hostile ; and instead of the coherent series of
systematised thought, we have the incoherent series of ordinary
thought. Systematic association we might call it teleological
association is one of the forms which evolution as growth of
organisation assumes in the subjective field of psychology : and
we have fresh evidence of the wonderful fertility of this conception
in the new light which M. Paulhan has shown it throws on char-
acter when taken as the principle for classifying various types.
M. Paulhan's work falls into two parts. While the second
attempts to classify the types of intellect according to their degree
of organisation, the first considers how the intellect is gradually
freed from subservience to the desires and sentiments and organised
as an independent system. The stages of this development also,
according to our author, assume typical forms characteristic of
classes of men. They present three main types. The first is the
" undifferentiated intellect ". All our desires and conscious ten-
dencies require a certain amount of thought, in order that they
may attain their ends. Here thought is wholly subordinate, a
mere means, not an end in itself. Describing people of this type
M. Paulhan observes that their ideas and images do not form
distinct groups, " they are not disengaged from tendencies, they
96 CRITICAL NOTICES :
are always mixed with the phenomena of feeling, they are grouped
about a sentiment rather than about an idea "- 1 The second is a
type of transition ; in it, thought becomes detached from ten-
dencies and organised apart, but only to serve them the more
effectively. " We do not yet see the mind create a new tendency
whose centre should be the intellect itself, whose end should be
the development of the intellect. So far the intellect in some sort
passes out of the character only to return to it, and in order to be
of service to it organises itself outside." 2 In the third type the
intellect is constituted as independent of the sentiments ; it be-
comes an end in itself.
We are all familiar with the love of knowledge for itself;
and if it is rare unmingled with other sentiments, it is common
enough blended with the love of fame or wealth. If this is
what M. Paulhan means by his third type, we have a clear
conception of it, but I do not think this is his meaning. If
it were, the problem of this book would have assumed a different
form. Instead of asking how the intellect comes to detach itself
from desire and sentiment, he would have asked how a new senti-
ment comes to be formed with its dependent desires the love of
knowledge for itself : or more precisely since a sentiment so
abstract as this is rare and must await the formation of its own
species how the love of any species of knowledge has arisen.
He would not have anticipated that, when thought has formed
itself into a relatively coherent system, this system of thought
would be any more separate from feeling (phenomenes affectifs)
than in its former wholly subordinate state. The popular mode of
regarding the relation between the intellect and the sentiments
seems to have had an unfortunate influence on his thought. We
are accustomed to their antithesis. We think of the one as so
cold that in its higher developments it seems to have w r holly
separated itself from the sentiments and emotions. Of a certainty,
the intellect can only work disinterestedly and with due self-control
when intense emotions are absent. But the strength of a feeling
is not to be measured by its intensity alone, and many of our most
persistent feelings are the calmest. Between the lowering of the
intensity of feeling in a system of thought and its total disappearance
from that system, there is all the difference. How would the different
systems of our thought have ever developed unless they had been
supported by feeling ? how can they continue to grow except by
its persistence ? We know what happens to a man when he has
lost interest in his work : the system of his thought ceases to grow ;
it languishes ; the sequence of his ideas is less coherent ; his
attention cannot be maintained. And yet the " feeling-tone " of his
thought may seldom have been sufficiently intense to have obtruded
itself. But when the love of work has left him, he is quick to
discern its absence.
1 Esprits Logiques, p. 40. 2 Ibid., p. 66.
FB. PAULHAN, Esprits Logiques et Espmts Faux. 97
Yet after considering in the first two chapters how thought grows
into a system relatively independent of desires and tendencies, in
the third chapter the author seems to recognise that expressed in
this way the problem is insoluble. He remarks that when we
create this opposition between the intellect and the sentiments we
do not always notice that the intellect becomes " the object of an
eager passion," and that " the intellectual desires are altogether
comparable to the desires of feeling (cttsirs affectifs) ". l And this
emphasises the criticism which I have ventured to make that the
real question we have to ask is how this new intellectual passion
with its attendant desires is developed, not the meaningless ques-
tion how the intellect comes to separate itself from desires and
tendencies. For after this sentiment or passion is formed, what-
ever other sentiments and desires still subsist in a man do not the
less require the mediation of thought to attain their ends, and even
for their very constitution. Desire with the thought abstracted
from it would not be desire, but a blind impulse ; sentiment would
not be the love of anything without a thought of the thing. But
when the new sentiment is formed, thought, while remaining as
subservient to other sentiments and desires as before, also and in
addition is systematised within this new sentiment. Here it is not
subservient to the wants of the organism and to practical interests ;
it is an end in itself. The reflective love of thought for itself is not
indeed felt for its states of doubt and ignorance, but for their in-
herent tendency to develop into knowledge. It is the love of
thought for true thought's sake. But how this reflective senti-
ment is developed the author does not inform us, though he
expends much ingenuity in explaining how thought becomes de-
tached from its original tendencies.
Is there any difficulty about this double attitude of thought ?
Do we suppose that when it enters the new sentiment it must,
like an object that changes its places, leave the others vacant ?
Obviously we are not concerned with the numerical identity of
thought but with its qualitative identity. The same thought in
this sense may belong to different systems, and attach to different
sentiments, and while in most it is subordinated to their practical
ends, in some one it becomes pure and disinterested. And as the
intellectual life develops this one sentiment tends to become the
dominant one, and to subordinate others to its overmastering end;
so that the thought which they dispense is no longer merely subor-
dinate to their ends, but, like these ends themselves, is regulated
by the supreme sentiment. In the ideal development of this
type, which, as M. Paulhan remarks, like all pure types is non-
existent, the entire thought of the mind is subordinated only to
the end of advancement in knowledge.
But how is it that in a system of thought the ideas which it
employs do not excite the desires with which they were formerly
connected ? 2 The thought of food does not excite hunger when
1 Esprits Logiques, p. 79. 2 P. 47.
7
98 CRITICAL NOTICES :
the appetite is appeased, nor after a good night's rest does the
idea of bed suggest the desire of sleep. If we reflected on the
uses of various food-stuffs when we suffered from the pangs of
hunger it is probable that we should not disengage our
ideas from the animal want. But we select such times for
thought when we are not pressed by other desires ; and in propor-
tion to the strength of the love of knowledge, we are able to exclude
feelings which deflect the train of thought from its prescribed
course.
Three types have become distinct from our analysis correspond-
ing to three stages in the development of thought. In the first
thought is entirely dependent on desires and sentiments other
than the love of knowledge. In the second this new sentiment
is formed, but it exists alongside of others, and with some it
blends, like the love of power or reputation. Its end suffers ;
sometimes a compromise must be accepted, sometimes it must
yield to a more imperious sentiment. In the third and ideal type
the love of knowledge is predominant, and all other sentiments
and impulses are subordinated to its end and systematised within
its sentiment.
But our second type does not correspond with the second of
M. Paulhan, and it is not easy to get any clear conception of what
this is. People of this type, he remarks, are distinguished from
the first by their capacity for reflexion, and from the third because
in them " theory is only the indispensable prelude to practice "- 1
Their " intellect is still under the direct control of desire ". 2 But
this, as we have seen, is no ground of distinction, since the highest
type is under the control of the desires of its sentiment. And if
such people have a greater aptitude for reflexion, they still belong
to the first type, if all their thought is a means and not an end.
We can, then, only class them as a subordinate variety of this
type, and M. Paulhan's third type will correspond with our
second.
He groups under it three sub-types. The first are "the in-
tellectual people of intense sensibility (sensitifs passionnes) ". The
second are those who live by sentiment and also by thought, but
keep each distinct. The third are those who are purely intel-
lectual, in whom thought predominates. 3 The examples he gives
of the first sub-type are taken from musicians, artists, and literary
men. Many of them possess intense emotional sensibility; but
their emotions are subordinated to their artistic ideal. The artist
is indeed a variety of this type, for he too loves truth and pursues
it ; but he combines with this end the conscious pursuit of beauty.
It is not sufficient for him, as for the scientist, that his thought
be true, it must have that literary distinction, that high quality of
beauty, which makes it a work of art. But this important type is
not that which M. Paulhan constructs ; he is emphasising only the
intensity of the emotions of many artists and of a few thinkers.
1 P. 72. - P. 62. 3 P. 78.
FB. PAULHAN, Esprits Logiques et Esprits Faux. 99
In the second sub-type " the intellect separated from the senti-
ments is isolated and lives as an independent system " ; but it does
not exhaust the character. 1 I can only interpret this type in
correcting M. Paulhan's expression of it. The intellectual life is
never separated from sentiment, but the love of knowledge on
which it is based may be isolated from other sentiments. Even
this degree of separation is extremely doubtful. Are the love of
power, of fame, of being of service to one's fellow-men, dead ? for
if not of a certainty they will often blend with this sentiment
whose object is so largely identical with theirs. M. Paulhan
remarks that this is a type of scientists and philosophers rather
than of literary men ; for the separation of the intellect from the
sentiments is "a guarantee of clearness and impartiality" and
serves the aim of the thinker, but is unfavourable to the artist. 2
As an example of this type he takes J. S. Mill, in whom the
emotional and intellectual life, he thinks, were separated. It is in
these psychological portraits that our author excels, and to those
of Darwin and Flaubert in former volumes, he has now added this
fine and appreciative study of Mill.
Under the third sub-type M. Paulhan classes all those who are
the purest incarnation of the intellectual life. They have hardly
any other end than thought. 3 The ideal type which defines their
place in the series of sub-types is that which I have taken as the
third and highest in the intellectual development ; and an existing
if limited class of men approximate to it. They are most often
found among abstract thinkers. The literary man is apt to grow
too fond of his creations ; and " Dumas loved Porthos as a friend
and wept at his death ". 4
The reader will perhaps conclude that this third and highest
type of the intellectual development contains only men of great
intellect. But our author warns him against this conclusion. He
even goes so far as to assert that it contains " many mediocrities
and a few imbeciles ". 5 A man may belong to this type because
he is incapable of feeling any strong passion, not because he
possesses remarkable talent. Others are carried away by an idea ;
they cannot stop to criticise it ; it masters them ; but if good, the
poverty of their minds hinders any rich development of it. And
the author sardonically remarks : "In seeing people who would
have made passable clerks or tolerable administrators in a subor-
dinate position devote themselves to intellectual researches for
their whole life ... we realise the power of the idea, . . . how
it may become a dominant tendency ". 6
In the second book, to which we now proceed, the author deals
with the various types of the logical intellect, and afterwards, in
contrast, those which are sophistical and false. The principle
which controls the classification is the degree of organisation of
1 P. 92. a P. 98. 3 P. 99. 4 P. 102.
5 P. 117. 6 /6td.
100 CRITICAL NOTICES :
thought, the degree of " systematic association ". The highest
in the scale are the balanced intellects (les equilibres) ; and through
the dissolution of the systems of thought, through the increase
of disconnected ideas, the author attempts to explain the types
of illogical minds.
But what is the connexion between the two books ; what is the
relation of the classification proposed in the one to the classifica-
tion proposed in the other? M. Paulhan has not discussed this
question ; and I think it is one that will perplex the reader. The
two classifications cross one another. Thus the highest in the
second may be the lowest in the first. The balanced minds
(les equilibres} are often found among common-place people.
" Every one has known good folk who acquit themselves suitably
of their various social functions : their business, their family duties,
and who in the discharge of these functions discover healthy
ideas and sound reasoning." x But these are not they who lead
an intellectual life and make knowledge an end in itself. Their
ideas are wholly subordinate to organic wants or practical ends.
While they belong to the highest class in the second scheme
they belong to the lowest in the first. What relation, too, do the
incoherent and illogical minds bear to the types of the first classi-
fication ?
The fundamental ideas which underlie M. Paulhan's theories do
not seem to me to be sufficiently analysed, and as a result are some-
times vague and unsteady. I do not mean the metaphysical ideas on
which all thought reposes, but those which are properly psycho-
logical, as, for instance, the relation of thought to the desires and
sentiments, which is the subject of the first book. Much of the value
of this book is lost for want of a clear and steady recognition of the
fact that the intellect is never separated from desire and sentiment ;
and the conception of systematic association, which seemed clear in
the earlier work on character, here, in its application to the intellect
apart, becomes ambiguous. We shall return to this point later
and need not dwell upon it. It is when our author comes to
detail, when he deals with types which he has evidently known,
and which are not constructed to fill a vacant place in the series,
it is here that he shows a remarkable talent. His analysis becomes
finer as it approaches the concrete. Where he studies the
subordinate varieties of a type, he shows a delicate appreciation of
their differences and a fine insight into their psychological explana-
tion. All this part of his work appears to me admirable ; and it is
this combination of a fine analysis in the concrete with insufficient
analysis of fundamental conceptions that seems to me the dis-
tinctive character of his work. The first chapter of this book,
which is one of the very best, is an example in point. He dis-
tinguishes four leading types, each conspicuous for the high degree
of its coherence through systematic association, but each exhibiting
1 P. 136.
FR. PAULHAN, Esprits Logiques et Esprits Faux. 101
it in a less degree than its forerunner. They are : (1) the balanced
minds (les dquilibres) ; (2) the thinkers and logicians ; (3) those
who push their ideas to an extreme (les outranciers) ; (4) the
specialists. The harmony of the first is due to " the spontaneous
play of the mind "- 1 Their logic is, in a way, " innate, natural and
instinctive," 2 in this distinguishing them from the organisation of
the thinkers and logicians, \vhich is " voluntary and maintained by
principle ". 3 People of various degrees of intelligence belong to
this type. But while we find many mediocrities, only a few of
the great geniuses are examples, Leonardo and Raphael but not
Shakespeare. Lesser men of this type who may have distinguished
themselves in literature or painting without the gift of original
genius, " vulgarise " the work of the great men. They do not
seize upon some characteristic of the master and push it to an
extreme like the outranciers : they are too well balanced for that. 4
Some of them " attain to glory by the perfection with which they
represent the average opinion and the average taste ". 5 In science
their work has higher value. To popularise a work need not take
away its scientific character, but it destroys its value as a work of
art. Such men are able to make improvements in detail, and
qualities of technique are not beyond their reach. But in philo-
sophy as in art " to popularise is almost to destroy ". 6 The
great geniuses who belong to this type are they in whom "all is
harmony, work and life, thought and imagery "."
Now it is most important to understand in what this balance or
harmony consists which is put forward as the highest achievement of
systematic association. I conclude that it means sometimes the
perfection of the logic, the absence of contradictions. Thus of the
opposite and illogical types M. Paulhan says : " The mind affirms and
denies at once, that is the common source of illogical thought". 8
But this kind of harmony is not characteristic of the great artist
and leaves unnoticed the distinctive harmony of aesthetic effect.
Again, in what does the balanced mind of the good citizen consist
who is quite common-place and yet exhibits good sense ; and
wherein is it superior to the thinker's ? Surely not in greater
absence of contradiction or in greater coherence of thought ! The
ordinary man may not indeed be conscious of his contradictions,
because he has never brought together his opinions. They are
disconnected : how then can he belong to the highest type of
systematic association ? But we can discern *what is meant by
the balance and harmony of his mind. He is a good man who
fulfils his " family duties," etc., and his desires, I suppose, are
not at strife. But this is the balance of his character, and the
author in this work is concerned with the intellect in abstraction.
The harmony of the good citizen's thought is due to different
causes. His ideas are not at strife because his sentiments are
1 P. 185. 2 Ibid. 3 P. 143. 4 P. 138.
5 Ibid. " P. 140. 7 Ibid. " P. 253.
102 CRITICAL NOTICES :
harmonious. His sentiments allow fair play to one another and
do not attempt to restrain each other's legitimate activity. In
the second place, his thought is not in conflict, because he is
unconscious of its implicit contradictions. But this kind of har-
mony is not due to the presence of systematic association, but to
the degree in which it is absent. And if we consider this first and
highest type in our author's classification as a whole, we shall see
that it bears something of this character, the unconsciousness of
contradiction rather than its absence, and therefore the absence of
strife among its ideas. For its logic is instinctive ; it reaches its
conclusions by no conscious method ; and if among a few men of
genius, these conclusions, were they subjected to the analysis of
logicians, would be judged to be relatively coherent, their case
would be exceptional. Surely those whose thought is the most
coherent are the great thinkers whose relative consistency is the
result of deliberate purpose. But their highly systematised
thought often attains consistency at the cost of sacrificing some
aspect of the world. They have lost balance in attaining to
consistency. This is another meaning of the balanced mind
which it is difficult to explain by systematic association. The
outranciers and the specialists, M. Paulhan remarks, exhibit
this loss of balance in a greater degree, and wide realms
of fact remain uninterpreted by their too narrow systems.
That mind will be better balanced which rests on a broader
and more complex basis of fact, and balance, in this
sense, will depend, not on systematic association, but on the
wealth of experience and the richness of the mind itself. For the
mind will be better balanced the more many-sided it is, because of
the greater variety of experience which it can assimilate. Now
the ideal philosopher is one who forms not merely a harmonious
system of thought, but whose system is so many-sided and com-
plex that it is adapted to the complexity of the world. In him
the most perfect balance of thought is united with perfect co-
herence and consistency. But often the systematic association
which effects the coherence will effect it by the sacrifice of balance :
and often the balance will be effected by the relative absence or
restriction of systematic association. The degree of balance will
not then always coincide with the degree of systematic association ;
and so far as this is the case the highest of M. Paulhan's types will
fall outside the principle by which he attempts to classify them.
Let us now bring together the different meanings which we have
come to distinguish in the ambiguous term " harmony, "as applied
to the balanced type. (1) There is the harmony which means the
absence of explicit contradiction. A man's inconsistent opinions
do not conflict because they are not brought together. Their
harmony is due to the relative inefficiency of systematic associa-
tion, not to the degree of its perfection. (2) There is the harmony
which means the relative absence of implicit contradictions. The
" instinctive " logic of M. Paulhan's highest type may be so
FE. PAULHAN, Esprits Logiques et Esprits Faux. 103
sound that a critic who is at the pains to compare its opinions may
find them in a high degree coherent. But the man himself, who
represents the type of instinctive logic, has never systematised
them or judged how far they are coherent. As there are contra-
dictions in our thought of which we remain unconscious so are
there consistencies. And the resulting harmony or absence of
conflict is in neither case the result of systematic association.
(3) There is the complex and perfectly balanced mind as opposed
to the mind of the extremist or specialist, and this is not to be
measured by the degree of coherence and systematic association,
but the degree in which the mind is open-eyed to facts and sur-
veys them from many sides. (4) There is the harmony which is
indeed a result of systematic association but produces not a logical
connexion of ideas but an aesthetic harmony. In constructing a
drama the poet does not attempt to eliminate incoherence and
contradiction from the minds of his characters, because he knows
that he would be false to nature in representing man as self-
consistent. (5) There is the harmony which means that the
ideas are not in conflict in the sense of not tending to realise
conflicting ends. This is the outcome of systematic association.
For if ideas are associated for a common end, if irrelevant or
hostile ideas are excluded, this means that the connexion of
ideas established is in harmony with that end. In a system of
ideas all is in harmony in this sense at least, that all is relevant
to its end or object.
As M. Paulhan passes from the highest types of systematic
association which are characterised by this harmony to the
lower types of strife and contrast, he represents this strife as due
to the decreasing efficiency or amount of systematic association.
The germ of this strife, he remarks, is already present in the
tendency of a mental element to associate with other elements for
a common end, since this involves the inhibition of ideas which
are useless or hostile. Now suppose that " the struggle is pro-
longed, that the inhibitory action cannot be rigorously exercised," l
we witness a struggle of opinions which may endure a lifetime.
But this introduces us to a meaning of strife which, so far from
being the witness of the relative absence or inefficiency of syste-
matic association, is the witness of its presence and vigour. The
psychological process of doubt and question is essential to our
progress in knowledge. It is strictly relevant to that end
and in this sense in harmony with it. But it is a process
of conflict. We do not know which of two conflicting opinions
is true, and we search for long without obtaining a conclusive
answer. So far from avoiding a conflict of opinion the scien-
tific thinker seeks for it. Then why is the man whose mental
life is passed in such struggles, who as soon as he emerges
from one enters upon another connected with it, who through
1 P. 178.
104 CRITICAL NOTICES :
them progresses in knowledge and the systematic connexion
of his ideas, why is he an example of a lower type of syste-
matic association than the man whose mental harmony is not
disturbed ? The harmony of thought which is never broken by a
conflict of ideas is the lethargy of an imperturbably sluggish mind.
It is not evidence of a high degree of systematic association. The
ambiguities of this phrase are coming to the light. In the sense
of harmony of thought as absence of mental strife, no type could
be higher; in the sense of the relevant connexion of thought in
reference to a controlling end, no type could be lower. And the
thinker whose life is passed in a succession of mental conflicts all
of which bear on the attainment of a definite kind of knowledge,
belongs to the highest type in the sense of the logical connexion
of thought, and to the lowest in the sense of the absence of strife.
He may indeed attain to harmony in another sense ; for the man
who doubts long, wrestles with conflicting ideas and is slow and
cautious in expressing certitude, will be relatively free from contra-
diction compared to the man who is stubborn of opinion and repels
doubt, or to one who is restless in it and eager to leap to a
conclusion. The harmony of thought, as absence of the strife of
doubt, is manifested whenever we rest in a conclusion ; and the
boorish mind which accepts its beliefs from tradition and the
gifted thinker who at the close of life has completed his system,
both exhibit this mental harmony. But in the one, it is evidence
that the development of his thought has scarcely begun ; in the
other, that it has relatively ceased. And the thinker w r ho on the
completion of his work does not commence anew, henceforth
exhibits the working of systematic association on a lower plane in
the fragmentary way of ordinary thought. There is then a sixth
meaning of harmony which we must distinguish, harmony as
absence of the strife of doubt. And while systematic association
tends to remove, it also tends to elicit such strife afresh, which is
always most absent from the mind that least connects its ideas.
We have seen the ambiguities in these fundamental conceptions
of our author, of the senses in which harmony is not the result
of systematic association, nor strife of its relative inefficiency or
absence.
We have to consider one other fundamental question before we
can complete in outline the survey of our author's work. What
does he conceive the character of illogical thought to be, and how
does he connect this with a defect of systematic association ?
Illogical thought " consists essentially in a want of co-ordination of
intellectual phenomena which is shown in the employment for the
same end of materials tending to different ends. 1 The mind
affirms and denies at the same time ; that is the common
source of illogical thought." 2 The reader will observe the attempt
which the author makes to interpret a contradiction by his
1 P. 253. 2 Ibid.
FR. PAULHAN, Esprits Logiques et Esprits Faux. 105
principle of systematic association. A contradiction we under-
stand to be the predication of contradictory qualities of the same
subject ; he interprets it to be the association for the same end of
materials tending to different ends. This unity, he remarks, is
a "fallacious unity". Once the ideas are sufficiently developed
for their opposition to be real, it " becomes impossible for them to
associate together for a common end, to draw the mind to the same
conclusion ".* Thus he resolves the fundamental character of
thought into a case of systematic association. The fundamental
character of thought is such that when we think of anything,
we must think of it as qualified in some way. There is a unity
of two : the thing, and the idea we predicate of it. And as we
cannot get below this character of thought or explain it by any
form of association, so we cannot explain by any form of association
its other character, equally fundamental, that when we predicate
one quality of a subject we cannot predicate of it a contradictory
quality unless we suppose the subject to be in process of change
and the contradictory qualities to be true of its successive
states. Association expresses the tendency of a mental element
to suggest some other element, and systematic association,
according to M. Paulhan, to suggest such another as will be
" capable of associating with it for a common end ". Systematic
association is then controlled by the thought of an end, pre-
supposes thought and does not account for it. The elements we
associate together are thoughts. We may indeed assume that
beneath thought there is " anoetic experience " : 2 but the combina-
tion of anoetic experiences still leaves us with anoetic experience.
Their association cannot create thought. Thought is a unique
differentiation, and cannot be resolved into an association of
elements which we may suppose to be present at a low r er psychical
level.
We come now to the question how far the various types of
illogical thought can be explained as due to the incompleteness or
decay of the systematic association of ideas. I am not sure
whether M. Paulhan thinks that every variety of illogical thought
can be interpreted by his principle, and classified under it. There
can be no doubt that in proportion as a man compares his opinions
and ideas, and associates them together for the purpose of eliminat-
ing their errors, through this very connexion of them he becomes
conscious of their disagreement and contradictions, and that with
" the progressive relaxation of mental co-ordination," 3 contradic-
tions between them develop which a higher degree of systematic
association would have arrested. In the interesting type of the
divided minds (les divises) the author well shows how " the family,
the school, business, the different circumstances of life develop in
1 P. 260.
'-' See Analytic Psychology, by G. F. Stout, vol. i., pp. 50, 91.
3 P. 859.
106 CRITICAL NOTICES :
them distinct series of beliefs which remain isolated " ; l and how
contradictions are thus developed of which the individual remains
totally unconscious. And these incoherences become still more
marked among the frivolous, a type which M. Paulhan has
admirably portrayed. Here the mind is incapable of reflexion or
of following a train of reasoning. It is at the mercy of every
impression, and at each moment a new one drives out and effaces
the preceding. 2 Thus the amount of incoherence and contradic-
tion of thought may be in a general way connected with the rela-
tive absence or decay of systematic association, but all incoherence
and contradiction cannot be so interpreted. There is the difference
between one man and another in the degree of clearness of his
thinking. Why is it that our ideas are sometimes confused
and at others distinct ? No doubt, as a rule, when they
are most distinct, we find a greater degree of systematic connexion.
But the degree of their systematic connexion does not wholly
produce their degree of distinctness ; their degree of distinctness in
its turn influences their degree of systematic connexion. A vague
idea has less power to suggest other ideas which are identical
with it than a clear idea. Its vagueness renders it unsteady,
and it is liable to be effaced by any idea which is clearer;
it is relatively worthless as a centre of systematic association.
For in systematic association we require one idea to develop other
ideas which are at some precise point identical with it identical
as examples of its type, as means to its end, as conditions or
consequences of it. But the vague idea has no precise point ;
it loosely suggests now r an idea connected with it in one way, now
one connected in another : and from its inability to be precise and
to distinguish arise all those errors and contradictions which we
class as confusions of thought. Illogical thought must then be
held to have a source distinct from the degree of systematic as-
sociation ; although on the other hand an idea can only reach its
highest degree of distinctness when we have systematically asso-
ciated with it all the ideas from which w r e have to distinguish it.
Another source of error and sophistry which cannot be explained
by M. Paulhan's principle is that which he mentions as due to
the influence of sentiment. 3 Here we must again reiterate that
we cannot oppose without qualification the intellect and the
sentiments. It is not the love of truth which produces sophistry,
but sentiments other than the love of truth. Each sentiment
organises a certain amount of thought, and this thought may be
relatively free from error where it represents the means to a given
end, for the desires subordinate to the sentiment desire to attain
their ends. But it is where a doubt is cast on the value or right-
ness or wisdom of these ends from the point of view of some
other sentiment that sophistry arises. For desire must defend
its end against competing desires : and truth may not enter the
1 P. 330. 2 P. 342. s P. 310 et seq.
TH. RIBOT, La Psychologic des Sentiments. 107
system of a sentiment where truth would wreck its object. And
in proportion as thought is highly organised in a sentiment and
the whole system thus formed has a strong and well-connected
structure, in that proportion will it be a fertile source of fallacies
whenever some other sentiment seeks to deflect it from its object. 1
The work which has been here reviewed is, in respect of its
general principles, in a sense unique. No other attempt so far
as I know exists to study psychologically the perplexing intellectual
differences between men, to discern the distinctive types which
they present, and, what is still more difficult, the principle which
penetrates them and affords the basis for their classification. No
mind but one trained in habits of self-reliant and independent
thought could make any headway in this unexplored department
of comparative psychology. But in my judgment the chief value
of the work will lie in the detail of it, in the many admirable
types which the author has portrayed and analysed with fine
penetration.
We may hope that British psychologists will no longer abandon
to their French fellow- workers the glory of being the only pioneers
in this profoundly interesting and important field of comparative
psychology.
ALEXANDER F. SHAND.
La Psychologic des Sentiments. Par TH. EIBOT, Professeur au
College de France, Directeur de la Revue Philosophique.
Paris : Felix Alcan, 1896. Pp. xi., 443.
THIS important monograph forms an addition to the Bibliotheque
de Philosophie Contemporaine. Its appearance will be welcomed
by all students of psychology ; for no department of psychological
literature is poorer than that which treats of the feelings ; and
little has been done in the way of bringing together the various sug-
gestions which have been offered towards a connected theory of this
difficult subject. To do this is the main intention of M. Eibot's
work : its aim is "to set forth the present state of the psychology
of the feelings ". It is needless to say that the task is performed
with the acuteness and felicity of exposition to which M. Eibot
has accustomed his readers; and that, even in "marking time,"
he neglects no occasion of making his own interesting contribution
to the solution of the questions that are raised. He omits no
important aspect of his subject ; and he makes use of every kind
of evidence which bears upon it. His treatment of it is specially
distinguished by the prominence which he gives, on the one hand,
to the indications of the development of feeling furnished by
observation of children, and, on the other hand, to the contribution
1 For an account of this theory of the sentiment, I must refer the
reader to my article in MIND, N.S., vol. v., pp. 214 to 226.
108 CRITICAL NOTICES :
to our knowledge of normal emotions which is made by the
pathology of mind.
In an Introductory Chapter on the evolution of affective life
M. Bibot gives a preliminary indication of the scope of his work.
He begins by marking the cardinal distinction, upon which his
idea of a psychology of feeling depends, between the two elements
which constitute affective states. He conceives the fundamental
or primary element to be motor states or tendances (a word to
which in his whole discussion he gives a very extended and rather
indefinite application); while the consciousness of pleasure or pain,
which most psychologists consider to be the main characteristic of
feeling, is a secondary, and in a sense, superfluous, addition. In vital
sensibility, which he follows Sachs, Verworn, Bastian, and others
in regarding not as even a rudimentary consciousness, but as
purely physical and chemical, he finds an embryonic form of
conscious sensibility a root of the affective life independent of
consciousness ; and in this basis of the affective life he finds proofs
of the existence of states w T hich are purely affective, and from
which every " intellectual " element is completely absent. M.
Eibot distinguishes four classes of these states : viz., a pleasurable
state, a painfuj state, a state of fear, and a state of excitability.
His argument against les intellectualistes, who conceive a cognitive
element to be essential to human feeling, is chiefly directed, both
here and elsewhere, against Lehmann, whose Hanptgesetze des
Menschlichen Gefuhlslebens is made to bear the brunt of M. Ribot's
criticism. The case for purely affective states is made to rest
chiefly upon the early period of child-life, and upon the funda-
mentally physiological character of emotional disturbances in
adolescence and in mental disease. But it can hardly be said that
the author establishes the existence of affective conditions of
consciousness \vhich are wholly non-intellectual; and indeed it is
not easy to suggest how complete demonstration of their existence
could be offered.
This sharp distinction between the physical and psychical con-
stituents of affective states determines the classification in which
M. Eibot presents his account of the evolution of feeling. Above
organic sensibility he finds four distinct classes of affective states,
which he names in the order of their development. First comes
the period of needs of vital or physiological tendances accompanied
by consciousness which are generally and conveniently summed
up as the manifestations of an instinct of self-preservation. This
is followed by the period of primitive emotions fear, anger,
affection, self-feeling, and sexual emotion among \vhich M. Bibot
refuses to classify pleasure and pain, since all emotion is
particular and definite while these are general characteristics of
the affective life. After these come the abstract or complex
emotions, which depend upon general ideas, and finally the
passions, which occupy in the affective life a position analogous
to that which is held by fixed ideas in the intellectual process.
TH. RIBOT, La Psychologie des Sentiments. 109
Such, in outline, is M. Kibot's conception of his subject..
His work itself falls into two parts : I., General Psychology
an account of the general characteristics of feeling; and II.,.
Special Psychology a descriptive and genetic account of the various,
feelings which actually constitute the affective life.
The first six chapters of Part I. are occupied with the discussion
of pleasure and pain. Physical and mental pain, which are
regarded as fundamentally identical, are considered in two-
chapters, the first of which gives an account of the physiological
conditions of pain, and prepares the way for a theory of emotion
by the conclusion that pain is ultimately conditioned by chemical
stimulation of vasomotor nerves ; while the second represents the-
development of mental pain as consisting of three stages which
are determined severally by memory, by association with repre-
sentations, and by association with concepts.
The most interesting point in the chapter on pleasure is the=
view which is suggested as to the relation of pleasure and pain.
M. Bibot insists on the co-existence and mutual implication of
pleasures and pains ; and he follows Beaunis (Sensations
Internes) in explaining the rise of each of them as the pre-
dominance of certain elements in the mental complex, while other
elements are held in abeyance. An acute though hasty discussion
of abnormal states of pleasure and pain is followed by a chapter
on neutral states. The author inclines to believe in these states.
of indifference chiefly on the ground that habituation renders
them probable ; but he suggests that their existence or non-exist-
ence may be a variation of individual temperaments.
The foregoing discussions are summed up in a statement of
conclusions as to pleasure and pain the conditions of their exist-
ence and the nature of their utility. On neither of these subjects,
however, has M. Bibot any important contribution to make. He
adopts, though with some hesitation and amendment, Meynert's
account of the relation of pleasure and pain to motor and vascular
reflexes ; and he is satisfied to accept the evolutionist explanation
that they exist in virtue of their life-preserving character, although
he is fully aware of the facts which this account fails to explain.
In this connexion he reprobates the desire of philosophers to find
a single explanation for all the facts. Yet on occasion no one has
a finer contempt than M. Eibot for explanations that do not ex-
plain, and theories which are compelled to leave out large parts
of their subject-matter.
This discussion of pleasure and pain is followed by an account
of emotion, which describes its intimate nature, its internal and
external conditions, and the various attempts which have been
made to classify the emotions. The first part concludes with
chapters on affective memory and on the relation of feeling to the
association of ideas.
The chapters on Emotion form one of the most important
sections of the book. One is, of course, prepared, by M. Eibot's.
110 CBITICAL NOTICES :
whole account of feeling, to learn that he adopts " the James-
Lange theory " in a very whole-hearted way. Reserving the
question how far this theory does justice to the facts of the case,
it is only necessary to add that M. Eibot maintains, in his clear
and interesting version of it, the high level of his whole book.
Of the second part of the book, which deals in a descriptive
way with special affective conditions, it is not necessary to say
much. It follows the lines which were laid down in the first
part, in giving an account of the several affective phenomena.
The primitive or simple feelings are first examined the "instinct
of self-preservation " under its various forms of purely physio-
logical response, fear, anger, affection, the phenomena of self-
feeling, and sexual instinct. The chapter on "the ego and affective
manifestations " is especially suggestive. The complex emotions
social, moral, religious, aesthetic, and intellectual feelings are
next reviewed at considerable length, and with a good deal of
interesting detail ; and the work concludes with a discussion of
character normal and abnormal and of the dissolution of the
affective life. The chapters on these subjects connect themselves
with the discussions of Schopenhauer, Paulhan, and Fouillee, and
are of the greatest interest throughout. They should certainly be
neglected by no one who still hopes for a psychological science of
Ethology.
In an epilogue on the place of the affective element in the psychic
life as a whole, M. Eibot contends that feeling is the primary or
dominant factor, which appears first and determines the mental
process throughout. The difficulty of establishing the facts on
which such a view must rest has already been suggested ; and at
the end of M. Eibot's argument one is still left without sufficient
grounds for sharing his opinion. Unless we begin by assuming
that organic response is feeling, we do not reach the conclusion
that feeling, as we know it, has any real priority to other aspects
of human consciousness. That state of human beings which we
call feeling can no doubt be traced, in part at all events, to an
origin in the primitive responses which are all that we know of
the simplest forms of life ; but volition and knowledge are in no
different position in this respect ; and unless these can be shown
psychologically to be reducible to feelings we must remain uncon-
vinced that feeling as we know it is in any sense prior to them.
It appears more in analogy with what we know of organic and
mental development to see in the primitive organic response the
germ of the processes which underlie all aspects of consciousness
than to identify it directly with any one of them.
The conclusion that feeling is the same as organic response is
an error or a half-truth, which may, I think, be traced partly to a
too exclusive use of the comparative method in psychology ; for
the use of this method, to the exclusion of introspective analysis
of consciousness, leads to neglect of those aspects of mental life
which distinguish it from every form of organic change, and to an
TH. BIBOT, La Psychologie des Sentiments. Ill
easy but inexact identification of conscious processes with those
phenomena of animal life which resemble their outward manifesta-
tions. It may be said that this is throughout the weakest side of
M. Eibot's book. He excels in the use of those important results
which are obtained by comparative methods ; but he neglects
direct psychological analysis, and his work suffers accordingly.
This is particularly noticeable in the chapters on Eeligious and
/Esthetic Feeling. We might reasonably have hoped for a
systematic attempt to analyse these feelings to give an account
of them in terms of simpler elements out of which they may be sup-
posed to be built up. Instead of this we find little more than a
comparative description of the phenomena, which, though sug-
gestive, is generally rather external, and which leads to no real
account of the mental states in question.
Undoubtedly, the most serious question for a critic of M.
Ribot's work is the theory of emotion which is maintained. It
has already been pointed out that M. Ribot is one of those
psychologists who follow James and Lange in conceiving emotion
to be merely and absolutely the consciousness or sensation arising
from expressive action. That the theory is not a private view of
M. Ribot's and that he has made no considerable alteration in it
might be taken as sufficient excuse for omitting a criticism which
must be too short to serve any good purpose. Yet the theory is,
in the nature of the case, so integral to M. Ribot's whole account
of emotion that a single remark must be allowed. It is, of course,
impossible to deny, and one can only be surprised that it has
been found so generally possible to ignore, the vast part which
expression plays in the development of emotional consciousness.
Undoubtedly, the consciousness or more strictly, the effect in
consciousness of its physical resonance or organic expression,
forms an element, and an element of first-rate importance,
in every emotional state. Yet there is no emotion because
there is no state of consciousness within our experience, which
is so wholly destitute of cognitive or ideational content that it can
rightly be called a mere feeling or the psychical equivalent of an
expressive movement ; and in emotion the relation between these
two elements or constituents of the complex state of consciousness
is such that it is impossible to suggest that either could be without
the other precisely what it is in the complex concrete reality.
It is easy, indeed, to speak of simple emotions ; yet any actual
emotion is not simple but intensely complex a synthesis not
merely of impressions due to vascular and motor functioning, but
of these with other contributions of sense and memory. There
is no emotion which is not, in one way or another, a consciousness
of an object, and in which this consciousness does not impart
definite character to the state of mind produced by expressive
reactions, so that these have a significance which they would not
otherwise possess.
It is perhaps in some ways unreasonable to advance such
112 CRITICAL NOTICES :
objections as this against M. Eibot's account of emotion ; since
they merely form a direct contradiction of what he must regard
as the fundamental proposition of a theory of feeling. Yet I
have thought it necessary to point out this difficulty, in order to
suggest that the view that emotion is merely sensation of
expression is an artificially simple explanation, and fails to account
for emotion as a concrete reality.
Even those, however, who differ most widely from M. Eibot
can hardly fail to recognise the skill and simplicity with which
he presents his thesis, and the learning and acuteness that
characterise his investigation of a subject with which few psycho-
logists have come to such close quarters. His book is certainly
a solid contribution to the discussion.
It is, perhaps, to be regretted that M. Eibot has not furnished
fuller references to the authors whom he consults and criticises.
A bibliography of the subject, such as he could furnish, would be
of the utmost value to many readers. Among slight inaccuracies,
it may be mentioned that the English ethnologist " Taylor " to
whom frequent references are made is Mr. Tylor.
CHAELES DOUGLAS.
De rinfini f Mathematique. Par Louis COUTURAT, Ancien Eleve
de 1 ' Ecole normale superieure, Agrege de Philosophie, Licien-
cie es Sciences Mathematiques, Docteur es Lettres. Paris :
Felix Alcan, 1896. Pp. xxiv., 659.
THE relation of number to quantity forms perhaps the most diffi-
cult, as well as the most fundamental, of the problems of mathe-
matical philosophy. On this problem at least three radically
different views may be taken. We may, with Mill and most
thorough-going empiricists, regard number as empirically derived
from quantity, and quantity itself as a datum in experience. Or
we may regard number as wholly a priori, and quantity as the
result of applying to experienced data the a priori category of
number. This view has been much advocated in France of late
years, especially in M. Hannequin's important work on Atomism. 1
Lastly, we may hold that number and quantity are wholly inde-
pendent categories, and that the application of number to quantity,
as it occurs in measurement, has no deeper motive than one of
convenience.
The last of these three is the view of M. Couturat, who is
forced, in the course of an able apology for mathematical infinity,
to devote most of his space to the relations of quantity and
1 Essai Critique sur I 'Hypothec dts Atomes. Paris, 1894. M. Hanne-
quin's book and M. Couturat' s should be compared, as they deal ably
with almost the same theme from different standpoints.
LOUIS COUTUBAT, De Vlnfini Mathematique. 113
number. Infinite quantity, he urges, is given a priori, and does
not stand or fall with infinite number. To maintain this thesis
it is necessary to establish the independence of quantity, and this
independence is, in fact if not in form, the chief theme of his
work.
The work is divided into two parts, of which the first, on the
generalisation of number, is content to exhibit and analyse those
results of mathematical science which bear on the question at
issue ; while the second part, on number and quantity, adopts a
critical and philosophical attitude, and endeavours to establish, by
philosophical considerations, the legitimacy of the notions of in-
finity and the continuum. Whichever may be the most valuable
of these two parts, the second is the most interesting to the
student of philosophy, and will be the more fully discussed here.
. The first part is divided into four books : the first three deal
with the generalisation of number as it appears in arithmetic,
algebra and geometry respectively, while the fourth deals with
mathematical infinity. The aim of the first three books is to ex-
hibit the growing necessity and the diminishing conventionality of
this generalisation in the three sciences in question. In arith-
metic, whose primary subject-matter is positive integers alone,
fractions, negative numbers and imaginary numbers can only be
introduced in an arbitrary and conventional manner. We take
two integers in a given order, regarded as forming a couple with
certain arithmetical properties, and establish arbitrary definitions
of the equality, addition, and multiplication of two such couples.
According to the definitions chosen, one of the three kinds of
generalised number results. 1 We cannot arithmetically introduce
these generalisations in the ordinary way, for unity, in pure number,
is indivisible, and such an expression as \ has no meaning except
what we choose to assign to it. The arithmetical generalisation is,
therefore, of necessity an arbitrary and apparently motiveless process,
giving rise to symbols which are without arithmetical meaning,
and are only subject by convention to arithmetical operations.
Irrational numbers are still more difficult to introduce arithmeti-
cally, and they first involve infinity. They express, in arithmetic,
the mere absence of a number of any of the former kinds at certain
points in the scale, and arise from the possibility of dividing all
rational numbers, in an infinite number of ways, into two classes,
such that any member of the first class is smaller than any member
of the second, but no assignable member is the largest or smallest
of the respective classes. There is thus a gap, which can only be
filled in by a symbol expressing the absence of a rational number
at the point in question.
The algebraical generalisation, as M. Couturat calls it, is less
formal, and proceeds from the desire to be always able to assign
1 For example, fractions are defined by the following conventions :
(a, b) = (c, rf) if ad = be ; (a, b) + (c, d) = (ad + be, bd) ; (a, 6) x (c, d)
= (ac, bd).
8
114 CRITICAL NOTICES :
roots to equations of the first or second degree. Thus equations
of the first degree, to be always soluble, require negative numbers
and fractions ; equations of the second degree require irrational
and imaginary numbers. But the algebraical generalisation is
unable to obtain the so-called transcendental numbers (e and TT
for instance), which are not roots of any algebraical equation of
finite degree. These mark the distinction between quantity and
number, and point to the former to justify the generalisation of
number.
Proceeding to the geometrical generalisation, M. Couturat
points out that, even in algebra, there would be no need to
demand that equations should always have a root, if these
equations were not the statement of real problems arising outside
algebra. Such problems occur in geometry, where first we find
the true interpretation, as quantities, of the symbols which,
from a numerical point of view, appeared to indicate impossible
problems. All varieties of number, including transcendental and
imaginary numbers, find here their justification and their
motive.
In all this there is, from one standpoint, nothing to criticise : it
is a clear and lucid account of the motives which have led mathe-
maticians to abandon the restriction to positive integers which
the pure idea of number would seem to impose. When the unit,
divisible and possessed of qualities, is substituted for the abstract
unity of arithmetic, all the apparatus of mathematical analysis
inevitably arises. But the unit itself is not thereby freed from
difficulties, and the contradictions latent in the quantitative unit
appear to be inadequately realised by our author. Of this we
have evidence in his fourth book, on mathematical infinity, where
he argues that infinite quantities are actually given, and enforces
his contention by considering the intersection of two lines which
gradually become parallel. These have no intersection at a finite
distance, but they cannot, he says, suddenly cease to have an
intersection, for such a breach of continuity, though not logically
contradictory, would be irrational (p. 216). This is the first
application of a somewhat dubious principle, borrowed from
Cournot, and emphatically stated in the preface (p. x.), according
to which philosophy has to choose, between several equally
logical alternatives, the most rational one. The use of this
principle, w r hich is frequent, seems to me not very happy, and
indeed may be employed to cloak what is really intellectual
capitulation. M. Couturat appears to be an idealist, and on
critical occasions appeals to the reason as against the under-
standing (see e.ij. pp. 537, 565). But the function of reason,
in the opinion of most idealists, is not to pronounce between
alternatives which logic leaves undecided, but rather to find a
logically possible alternative where the understanding finds none.
This view of reason seems never to occur to our author, and the
possibility of contradictions in results to which the understanding
LOUIS COUTUBAT, De Vlnfini Mathematique. 115
appears forced, though peculiarly evident in the case of mathe-
matical infinity, is strenuously denied throughout the work.
His rational principles, of which the principle of continuity is
the chief, are thus introduced more or less arbitrarily, and
appear as dogmas rather than genuinely necessary axioms.
The scoffer might even be tempted to identify his " reason " with
common sense.
Of this general criticism, we shall have abundant illustration in
the second part of the work, which deals philosophically with the
relation between number and quantity, and with the objections to
infinite quantity. The first book, on number, begins with an
excellent criticism of the empirical theory of number, by which
M. Couturat means, not the much-refuted theory of Mill, but the
formalist theory of Helmholtz and Kronecker. This theory defines
numbers as mere signs with a fixed order of sequence, and en-
deavours to deduce the properties of cardinal numbers from this
definition of ordinals. Our author insists I think with complete
success that we must begin with cardinal numbers, and that the
attempts of Helmholtz and Kronecker involve either a vicious circle
or a petitio. He then proceeds (book L, chap, iii.) to the
rationalist theory of whole numbers one of the very few subjects
in epistemology, I suppose, upon which there is at present a con-
sensus among experts. Number requires only a logical and
formal unit, created by thought : all the objects of a numbered
collection must be regarded as units in this sense, and in so far
identical, while the whole collection must, in turn, be regarded as
a complex unity. The idea of unity is an a priori idea, and is
never given by the data of sense. It is doubly involved in number,
which is a " unity of a plurality of unities " (p. 361). l In the next
chapter, after urging that number requires no schematism, as
Kant had maintained for it is not successive enumeration, but
simultaneous apprehension, which is needed (p. 354) our author
begins to tread on more dangerous ground, by the consideration of
infinite number. One would have supposed that the condition of
being a completed whole, which he has urged as necessary to
number, would have precluded the possibility of infinite number.
But M. Couturat boldly contends that a collection is given as a
whole, as soon as we have a law by which any required number of
its members can be constructed, and from which no member is
exempt. The conditions for a number of a collection may, there-
fore, be satisfied, even if the collection is infinite, and successive
enumeration of all its terms is impossible (p. 351). This is
certainly the only hope of saving infinite number from contradic-
tion, and M. Couturat has made the most of it. As he deals with
the same topic more fully at a later stage (book iii.), I shall post-
1 " Units " would perhaps be a better word, but as there is only one
word in French for unit and unity, the distinction has to be made by
translation.
116 CRITICAL NOTICES :
pone the criticism of this view till we have discussed book ii.,
which deals with quantity.
The main contention of book ii. is, that quantity is as a priori
as number, but is an entirely independent category. The idea of
quantity, he says, is indefinable and irreducible : to define it as
what can be increased or diminished involves an obvious circle
(pp. 367-9). If quantity be indeed an independent category, we
must of course agree that it cannot be defined in terms of other
categories : but one could wish that M. Couturat had made more
attempt to show that it is a category free from contradictions, and
that there is some way of knowing about it without the help of
number. Measurement, he admits, consists in the numerical
expression of quantity, and thus introduces axioms due to the
nature of number, and producing a conflict between number and
quantity (pp. 404-5). But he thinks that the equality and addi-
tion of quantities of the same kind can be effected without refer-
ence to division into units, and therefore without dependence on
number (p. 404). Chapters i. and ii. of this book give the axioms
of equality and addition, which are declared a priori, and are
stated in a form apparently free from reference to number. But
they seem very insufficient for the foundation of a science of
quantity. Thus he says, for example, that equality in general
cannot be defined, but as soon as we have the idea of any kind of
quantity, we have the idea of equal quantities in this kind, or
rather of the same quantity in different objects (pp. 372-3). This
seems vague, and it might be objected that we cannot have the
idea of a kind of quantity until we know what we mean by equal
quantities of this kind, since it is equality and inequality which
constitute quantitative relations. Again he says (p. 389) that the
sum of two quantities is a quantity of the same kind. If this
axiom were really independent of division into units, it would
hold equally of intensive quantities, but this is not the case. The
sum of two temperatures, for example, is meaningless. He has
also what he calls the axiom of the modulus (p. 399), according to
which there exists a certain real quantity, called zero, such that,
when added to any other quantity, it leaves that quantity un-
changed. Having been told previously (p. 232) that a zero dis-
tance is not nothing, but just as real as any other distance, we
are not surprised at this axiom ; but it is a pity that no attempt
is made to explain what a zero quantity is. Zero would seem to
be about as non-existent as anything could be ; for it is defined
as nothing but quantity, and further as containing no quantity.
We are not told how to make something of this apparent non-
entity ; and it is even supposed that objections to infinity will
be silenced by the argument that the same objections apply to
zero (p. 436). Zero is said to have a rational, not a logical,
necessity (p. 402) ; without zero, it is said, measurement would
be impossible. It seems strange to assign rational necessity to
anything so grossly contradictory as mathematical zero, and its
LOUIS COUTURAT, De I'Infini Mathematique. 117
necessity for measurement seems at best doubtful. Temperature,
for example, has a purely fictitious zero, and yet is measured by
the thermometer. The fact is, I think, that quantitative zero is a
limit necessarily arising out of the infinite divisibility of extensive
quantities, and that M. Couturat's axioms are only applicable to
extensive quantities. In this way division into units is surrepti-
tiously introduced ; but by immediately declaring every axiom in
turn a priori, without analysis of its grounds, the necessity of
reference to number is concealed. 1
There are several other points in this book which call for
criticism. On p. 416, the axiom of continuity is given in the
form : "If all the quantities of a kind can be divided into two
classes, such that all the quantities of the one are smaller (or
larger) than all the quantities of the other, there exists a quantity
of this kind which represents this mode of division, and which is
at once larger than all the quantities of the inferior class,
and smaller than all the quantities of the superior class ".
Against this definition a dilemma may be presented : cither the
word all is not to be taken as including the quantity which lies
between the two classes, in which case the definition applies
equally to discreta, e.g., the series of natural numbers ; or the
word all is to be taken rigidly, in which case there is a palpable
contradiction in supposing another quantity of the same kind,
which does not belong to either of the classes into w 7 hich all the
quantities of the kind have been divided. That such a contra-
diction must necessarily hold of continua, I have no wish to
deny ; but it seems bold to say, of an axiom involving this con-
tradiction, that though indemonstrable, " it possesses an evidence
almost equal to that of analytical judgments " (p. 416), and that
its justification is not logical but rational (p. 554). Again, in
discussing the definition of number as the ratio of quantities of
the same kind, he defends the definition from the vicious circle
which it appears to involve, by declaring that ratio is a funda-
mental idea not susceptible of definition (p. 426). In view of the
obvious method of defining ratio by means of number, this
almost reminds one of Mill's "final inexplicability ". Finally he
says that incommensurable quantities must have a ratio, for
otherwise two continuous variables would have a ratio one
moment and none the next (p. 428), and that to identify unity
with the quantitative unit is impossible, since it either supposes
unity divisible or the unit indivisible. He does not seem to
realise that the possibility of continuous variation, and the
impossibility of indivisible units, are the very points which a
champion of quantity, as against number, has to establish.
1 On one of these axioms, the axiom that of two magnitudes of the
same kind one must be the larger, there is a rather serious inconsist-
ency ; it is denied as regards imaginaries on p. 46, and affirmed to be
a priori on p. 384.
118 CRITICAL NOTICES :
The third book consists of an answer to the usual objections to
infinity, which is given in the form of a dialogue between a finitist
and an infinitist. The proofs that infinite number is impossible,
he says, all rest on one of two fallacies : (1) that infinity is the
largest of all numbers, and (2) that all infinities are equal. Both
these are false, he says, and the difficulties to which they have
given rise are all resolved by Cantor's transfinite numbers (p. 455).
The actual infinity of the series of natural numbers is not contra-
dictory, he says, for it results from their law of formation, by
which they are given as a totality. 1 That the resulting infinity
may reveal a latent contradiction in the law of formation itself,
appears not to occur to him. Thus when the finitist objects that
an infinite collection can never be really given or really a whole,
the infinitist replies that, in that case, number itself must be
contradictory (p. 471) a conclusion from which, one would think,
a bold disputant would scarcely shrink. But infinite quantity, he
says, is even simpler than infinite number, for it does not neces-
sarily consist of a collection of units. It is difficult to see in what
sense a quantity is infinite, unless it is compared with some unit,
of which an infinite number would be required to reproduce it.
But M. Couturat holds that an infinite quantity can be given to
begin with as a totality, and that measurement can be effected
otherwise than by the addition of elements (p. 483). How the
latter is possible, he does not explain ; integration, which he gives
as an example, is essentially an addition of elements. The possi-
bility of the former, one would think, is sufficiently disproved by the
stock argument, that mathematical infinity consists essentially in
the absence of totality, the absence of completed synthesis. But
infinite quantity, as M. Couturat says, depends on continua, and
these, like most of the fundamentals in his work, he regards as
given by reason, not by logic (pp. 497-8). For one equipped only
with logic, it is impossible to follow into this fortress of reason,
where the shafts of logic cannot penetrate.
In the last book, conclusions are drawn from the previous dis-
cussions. Beginning with number, it is pointed out that number,
like the concept, depends on generalisation and abstraction ; it is,
indeed, the other face of the concept, the extension corresponding
to a given intension. But since it requires that its constituents
should each be united, and all be similar, its application to reality
is never wholly legitimate, for similarity and unity seem to exist
in inverse ratio. The latter is best found in organisms, the former
in homogeneous continua. All this is excellent, like what was
said on number in book ii. ; but it is a pity that a similar process
of criticism is not applied to continuous quantity, which stands at
1 There is some inconsistency on this point. Sometimes it is argued
that all the natural numbers are given by successive addition of unity,
sometimes, with Cantor, that another principle of formation is also re-
quired. Compare, e.g., pp. 364, 465.
LOUIS COUTURAT, De I'Infini Mathematique. 119
least as much in need of it. As regards this conception, M.
Couturat points out that it is not given by sensible experience,
since sensation can never reach an accuracy sufficient to exclude
discreteness. Thus irrationals suffice to prove that quantity is not
empirical ; it is in fact, he says, a priori and due to reason. With
the justification of quantity comes the justification of infinity,
which reason, he says, does not obtain by successive synthesis,
but sees from the start (p. 565). From this conclusion, he goes
on to Kant's antinomies, whose theses, since the realised infinite
is not impossible, he declares to be all false (p. 567). The anti-
theses, therefore, he regards as true, and Kant's objection to them,
he says, is due to the schematism of the categories, which led him
to regard quantitative synthesis as necessarily successive, while
every quantity, in fact, is given first as a whole, not as a synthesis
of parts.
It seems to me that this argument, as well as the whole argu-
ment against the "finitists " throughout the w T ork, rests on a
misapprehension of their position. That infinity follows neces-
sarily from certain premisses e.g., the reality of space and time
as something more than relations must be admitted ; that in-
finity is useful and unobjectionable in mathematics, is by this
time almost self-evident ; but that mathematical infinity is philo-
sophically valid might, I imagine, be met by two converging lines
of argument. The first and more usual argument would urge the
contradictions of infinity, which M. Couturat, I think, has not
succeeded in disproving ; the second might urge that, in all the
cases where infinity is unavoidable, there has been some undue
hypostatising of relations, which makes the attainment of a com-
pleted substantive whole impossible. These lines of argument,
however, can be only suggested within the space of a review.
Finally, I wish to urge the very solid merits of the work, to
which it is difficult, in the course of detailed criticism, to do
justice. The position taken up is the only one from which infinite
quantity can be philosophically defended, and the main thesis is
carefully and consistently worked out. To take up an unpopular
cause is always praiseworthy, and almost always useful ; in the
case of M. Couturat it is certainly both, and his book is likely
long to remain the classic advocate of mathematical infinity.
B. KUSSELL.
VIIL NEW BOOKS.
Hegel's Philosophy of Right. Translated by S. W. DYDE, M.A., D.Sc.,
Professor of Mental Philosophy, Queen's University, Kingston,
Canada. London: George Bell & Sons, 1896. Pp. xxx , 365.
THE time seems now fully come when Hegel can be duly appreciated
neither blindly followed nor more blindly railed at ; and one sign of this
is that his system is being made in different ways more accessible to
the English reader. The wonder is that the Philosophic des Rechts has
not sooner attracted a translator. It exhibits the application of his
principles in the concrete spheres of law, ethics and politics ; in particu-
lar it adopts a treatment of ethics in close connexion with law and
politics a mode of treatment which at once carries us back to Plato and
Aristotle and forwards to the modern conception of a general science of
sociology ; and apart from its important place in Hegel's system as a
whole, it contains some of his most striking and characteristic dicta. It
is, therefore, with great regret that a reviewer finds himself unable to
commend this translation. It has evidently been done with much
labour, and with a conscientious attempt to " ameliorate Hegel's rigid
phraseology ". Long sentences have been broken up into moderate
mouthfuls. A brief index of words shows the varied devices to which
the translator has resorted in his endeavours to make intelligible English
out of such terms as an-sich, an-und-fiir-sich, Bestimmung, Das< ///?,
unmittelbar, and a few other technical terms of Hegel's logic. The
entries, however, even under the words selected, are by no means
complete : and it is curious that no account is taken, either in this
index, or in the preface, or elsewhere, of the renderings adopted for terms
which belong specially to moral and political philosophy, such as Rerht,
Sittlichkeit, burgerliche Gesellschaft, etc. If a translation of Hegel is
really to be of use to a reader who has not the German text beside him,
surely some note is needed on the adoption of the term " right " in a
conventional, but quite un-English, sense, as the equivalent of Recht.
Again, it is difficult to get any one English word to represent Hegel's
use of Sittlichkeit as opposed to Moralitat, but " ethics " or even
" ethical system" as opposed to " morality" surely needs some apology.
" Civic community " is not a very happy rendering of burgerliche
Gesellschaft, and " city " (p. 194, 190) is decidedly bad : something is
needed to bring out the force of Hegel's antithesis between " society "
and " the state". The word gesellschaftlich is translated " social" (<'-g.,
in 194), but no warning is given to the reader that the term Gesell-
schaft is here the same as that rendered " community " elsewhere. In
three cases only does the translator give in a footnote the German terms
of the original: (1) where Hegel plays on the words Gewissen and
Gewissheit ; (2) where the connexion between Gesetz and gesetst has to
NEW BOOKS. 121
be brought out; and (3) where wirksame Gnade is rendered "saving
grace " (p. 139, 140). If this last theological term deserves a footnote,
a fortiori the original should have been noted in the case of words
which are technical terms of Hegel's social philosophy. It should
certainly have been pointed out on p. 23 ( 12) that " resolve " and
" decide '' represent beschliessen and sich entschliessen. Translators of
philosophical books seem very commonly to forget that translations may
be of use not merely to those who are absolutely ignorant of the
original language, but to those who know it in any degree short of perfec-
tion : and, though some typographical neatness may be sacrificed by the
insertion of the original terms here and there in brackets or footnotes,
the translation gains enormously in utility.
No one who has ever attempted to translate German will judge a
translator, especially of Hegel, too hardly ; but the present version shows
a most lamentable lack of revision. The following examples will justify
this complaint, and help to supplement the too brief table of Errata,
P. xv. (Hegel's Preface), " I have used as lectures " should be " I have
used for my lectures ". P. xvii., " distributing on all sides the same old
cabbage" is somewhat pedantic; "serving round" would be more
suitable. P. xx. (footnote), " jurisprudence " is a misleading English
equivalent for die positive Jiirisprudenz, which means the practical
science of the lawyer, as opposed to the philosophy of law. P. xxi., " Mr.
Fries ... on a public festive occasion, now become celebrated ".
" Festive " is a too happy version oifeierlich here. P. xxii. and p. 323,
why are the quotations from Goethe left untranslated '? P. xxviii.,
Fichte is made to speak of " a photograph ". The German is Portrait.
Pp. 6, 53, 232, Kloster is mistranslated " cloisters " ; it should be " mon-
asteries ". P. 25, " Friesian philosophy " should be " the philosophy of
Fries ". We are not in the habit of making adjectives out of minor
philosophers. P. 47 ( 40), "personal right, real right," are misleading
renderings of Personenrecht and Sachenrecht. It would be better to keep
the Latin terms jura in person am and in rem. P. 48, foot ( 41), a "not "
is omitted. P. 51 ( 43), the English of Verausseruny as a technical
term is " alienation," not " relinquishment ". P. 66 ( 62), inutiles is a
misprint for inutilis. On p. 101 ( 102) there is worse than a misprint,
" Wherever crime is punished not as criminapublica," etc. The German
runs Wo die Verbrechen. P. 103 ( 104), Vertrag is translated
" exchange ". It should have been " contract," as elsewhere. P. 121
( 126), " When the hoty Crispinus steals leather to make boots for the
poor". " St. Crispin " would have a more familiar sound. " Crispinus"
is solemnly entered in the index of subjects as if he were a father of the
Church or an ancient philosopher. On p. 127 ( 132) is a dark passage
on which the original throws a curious light : " This claim [that the
criminal must in the moment of his act have presented clearly to himself
the nature of the wrong he is doing, etc.] . . . denies to him that
indwelling intelligent nature, which in its active presence has no affinity
with the clear images of purely animal psychology ". The German is
ifii' irolfixch-psj/cJiologische Gestalt von deutlichen Vorstellungen ! In
the same section there is a wrong reference in the original, which the
translator has not corrected. 1^0 should probably be 127. P. 150,
the dots over the "u" have been wrongly retained in " Tartuffe ". On
the other hand the dots in Ptolemaus seem to have been over-
looked in p. 268 note (quotation from Laplace). For " Ptolemaus,"
which is of no language, read "Ptolemy". P. 166 ( 161), "in the
majority of what are called rights of nature " should be " in most
treatises on (or ' systems of ') the Law of Nature" (in den meisten Natur-
122 NEW BOOKS.
rechten). In the same paragraph, in the sentence " Out of marriage has
disappeared the love, which is merely subjective," the comma should
be omitted ; else the words may convey a more cynical sense than
Hegel intended. P. 171 ( 164), "Letters of an Unknown". The
German is Briefe eines Ungenannten. not Unbekannten. The titles
of books are translated and left untranslated in most capricious fashion.
On p. '267 (footnote) the name of a book of Laplace's is given in German.
Montesquieu's famous work is called " The Spirit of the Laws " (p. 249).
On p. 182 we find " Cicero in his Officiis ". (The German scholar will
know why.) On p. 217 we have " Herr von Haller's ' Restoration of
Political Science,' " but on p. 243 " Mr. v. Haller's ' Eestauration der
Staatswissenschaft ' ". P. 193 ( 189), " political science " should be
" political economy ". Staatsoekonomie is only a part of Staatswissen-
schaft. P. 207 ( 211), " England's land-law or common-law " is Amer-
ican journalist's English at the best, but it is also wrong. Englands
Landrecht means simply " English law," the law of the country. P. 212
( 215), "Law as incorporated" is an odd rendering of Das Daseyn des
Gesetzes, and is not noted in the index under Daseyn. P. 213, " To
require of a statute-book that it should be absolutely finished, and in-
capable of any modification a malady which is mainly German," etc.
The last clause should run " a demand which is mainly a German
malady ". On the same page why is the French proverb, which Hegel
quotes as " Le plus grand ennemi du bien, c'est le mieux" altered into
" Le plus grand ennemi du Bien c'est le Meilleur" f P. 217, "Punish-
ment also is ameliorated": " mitigated " would be better. P. 222, " There
is attained only partial proofs" : read "are". P. 233, "The basis of
industry is the sea". Industrie should be translated "trade" or
"commerce" here. P. 279, "Ephorat" is not English. P. 305 ( 298),
" the legislature interprets the laws" is a misleading rendering of betriffl
die Gesetze als solche, insofern sie iveiterer Fortbestimmung bediirfen.
P. 309 ( 311), etc., "the classes" (Stdnde) should be "the estates".
On p. 311 the translator gives "the classes or estates". Hegel him-
self notes the ambiguity in the word Stdnde in 303, distinguishing
social or economic "classes" from political "estates of the realm".
P. 325 ( 318), "In public opinion all is false and true". 1st
alles Falsche und Wahre = " is contained all sorts of falsehood and
truth". P. 328, "emperors" should be "generals". Imperator only
means "emperor "in a special use. P. 336, "the houses" should be
"the legislative chambers" or "the houses of parliament". On the
same page ( 330) " Hence we must here remain by the absolute com-
mand " should be "in the stage of mere ought to be," "we must be con-
tent with a mere ideal " (beim Sollen bleiben).
On the whole the more difficult metaphysical passages are the best
translated, though a reference to the original is generally helpful and
sometimes indispensable. But unscholarly slips, such as those noted,
are an indignity to Hegel. Hegel had his prejudices : as Mr. McTaggart
puts it (in his article " On Hegel's Theory of Punishment" in the Inter-
national Journal of Ethics for July, 1896 a valuable commentary on a
part of the Phil, des Rechts), Hegel may have attempted " to identify
the kingdom of Prussia with the kingdom of heaven " ; but he did not
attempt to write on man as a social being without a very solid equip-
ment of literary and historical knowledge. Carefully and minutely
revised, Mr. Dyde's translation might be of great use to students. At
present it is a somewhat uncertain guide.
DAVID G. RITCHIE.
NEW BOOKS. 123
Tlw Principles of Sociology. Bv HERBERT SPENCER. Vol. iii. London :
Williams & Norgate, 1896. Pp. 635.
We gladly join in the congratulations which Mr. Spencer has received
from all quarters on the occasion of his completing the great task to
which he has dedicated so large a portion of his life. In the preface to
the present volume he tells us that it is six and thirty years since he
commenced his system of Synthetic Philosophy. During that period no
less than ten volumes have proceeded from his pen, and the present
volume brings the series of works which represent his philosophical
system to a close. In so far as he has succeeded amid many interrup-
tions from ill-health in writing ten volumes, he has fulfilled his original
purpose. But he tells us that he has not devoted these ten volumes to
the subjects which he had at first in view. The first two volumes of The
Principles of Sociology have expanded into three, and the third, which if
written would now be the fourth, remains unwritten. This unwritten
volume was to have treated of " Progress : Linguistic, Intellectual,
Moral, ^Esthetic ". But Mr. Spencer says that the task of writing a
satisfactory volume on such complex topics is beyond the powers of an
invalid of seventy -six.
It is interesting to hear what Mr. Spencer has to say of his feelings
now that his work is done. " On looking back over the six and thirty
years which have passed since the Synthetic Philosophy was com-
menced, I am surprised at my audacity in undertaking it, and still more
surprised at its completion. How insane my project must have seemed
to onlookers may be judged from the fact that before the first chapter of
the first volume was finished one of my nervous breakdowns obliged me
to desist. But imprudent courses do not always fail. Sometimes a for-
lorn hope is justified by the event. Though along with other deterrents
many relapses, now lasting for weeks, now for months, and once for
years, often made rne despair of reaching the end, yet at length the end
is reached. Doubtless in earlier days some exultation would have
resulted ; but as age creeps on feelings weaken, and now my chief
pleasure is in my emancipation. Still there is satisfaction in the con-
sciousness that losses, discouragements, and shattered health have not
prevented me from fulfilling the purpose of my life."
The present volume is devoted to an examination of the origin and
development of Ecclesiastical Institutions, Professional Institutions, In-
dustrial Institutions. The division on Ecclesiastical Institutions appeared
more than ten years ago, the division on Professional Institutions ap-
peared in the shape of review articles. The only portion of the book
which is new are the chapters on Industrial Institutions. Detailed
notice will follow.
Schopenhauer's System in its Philosophical Significance. By WILLIAM CALD-
WELL, M.A., D.Sc. London : Blackwood & Sons, 1896. Pp. x.,
538.
This book, fuller notice of which is deferred for want of space, is the
expanded adaptation of the author's Shaw Fellowship lectures delivered
in 1893, and incorporates besides the substance of other lectures and of
articles contributed to this journal. Holding that Schopenhauer and von
Hartmann represent one-half of the philosophy of to-day, Professor
Caldwell here presents us, not, according to his original intention, with a
study of pessimism as represented by them, but with a study from a
wider standpoint of the former thinker, reserving his say on the latter.
124 NEW BOOKS.
The result is no serial exposition of Schopenhauerism, but a number of
practically independent dissertations on various aspects of that doctrine
its metaphysic, epistemology, etc., in which the author, having saturated
himself with the doctrine, freely reproduces its essence, and, in a judi-
cious, disinterested spirit, repeatedly and variously elaborates the central
idea that Schopenhauer failed to see the fine constructive philosophy
latent in the implications of his theory of will.
C. A. F. RHYS DAVIDS.
The Principles of Sociology. An Analysis of the Phenomena of Associa-
tion and of Social Organisation. By FRANKLIN HENRY GIDDINGS, M. A.,
Professor of Sociology in Columbia University in the City of New
York. New York and London : Macmillan & Co., 1896. Pp. 476.
The writer of this volume believes that the time has not yet arrived for
the production of an exhaustive treatise on Sociology. Still he considers
that Sociology possesses certain principles, and that the time has come
for combining these principles into a coherent theory. He is an op-
ponent of those who have translated sociological laws into biological
phraseology. According to his view Sociology is a psychological science,
and his work chietly draws attention to the psychic aspects of social pheno-
mena. His explanation of the origin of social organisation is that it arises
from a state of consciousness in which any being whether low or high in
the scale of life recognises another conscious being as of like kind with
itself. " The consciousness of kind marks off the animate from the
inanimate. Within the wide class of the animate it marks off species
and races ; within the race it marks off ethnical and political groups and
social classes. It is therefore the psychological ground of social groupings
and distinctions. The consciousness of kind again continually moves
men to act as they would not if they were governed altogether by con-
siderations of utility, fear, loyalty, or reverence. It continually prevents
the theoretically perfect working of economic, legal, political and religious
motives. It is therefore the cause of the distinctively social phenomena
of communities." As a longer notice will follow we shall not at present
discuss in detail Mr. Giddings's theory of the part played by the " con-
sciousness of kind " in the organisation of social life. It is unquestion-
ably a most important factor. But perhaps Mr. Giddings does not allow
quite enough to other factors, in determining the structure and develop-
ment of society. The economic factor acts as powerfully on social
organisation as the consciousness of kind. Many of Mr. Giddings's ideas
have already appeared in various periodicals, but they are well worth
reading in a connected form and as an organic whole.
The Biological Problem of To-Day. Preformation or Epigenesis ? The Basis
of a Theory of Organic Development. By Professor Dr. OSCAE
HERTWIG. Authorised Translation by P. C. MITCHELL, M.A., with
an Introduction by the Translator and a Glossary of the Technical
Terms. London : W. Heinemann, 1896. Pp. 140.
This book contains a very clear and convincing criticism of Weismann's
Preformation Theory of embryonic development and an excellent ex-
position of the author's own doctrine of Epigenesis. The translation
reads extremely well. We can strongly commend the work to the reader
who is interested in biological problems from a philosophical point of
view.
NEW BOOKS. 125
Studies from tlie Yale Psychological Laboratory. Edited by E. W.
SCRIPTURE. Vol. iii. 1895.
C. E. Seashore : " Measurements of Illusions and Hallucinations in
Normal Life ". This paper commences with a quantitative investigation
of the illusion described by M tiller and Schumann showing the influence
of vision on the perception of weight. The author determined the
degrees of the illusion when the estimation of size depended on direct
and indirect vision, on visual memory, and on touch and muscle sense.
The part played by expectant attention on the production of hallucina-
tions of various senses was also investigated. In numerous subjects
definite hallucinatory sensations of low intensity were obtained by
suggestion.
J. M. Moore: "Studies of Fatigue". The influence of fatigue on
binocular and monocular perception of depth and on the rapidity of
voluntary movements. In monocular estimation fatigue induces
symptoms similar to those occurring with binocular estimation and
apparently referable to fatigue of accommodation.
Edward M. Weyer : " Some Experiments on the Reaction-time of a
Dog". Found time between electrical stimulation of forefoot and its
withdrawal, 896 <r. Attempt to measure discriminative and choice time
failed.
E. W. Scripture : " Some New Apparatus ". Describes a pendulum
chronoscope, rotating wheel with speed indicator, some new keys, and a
device for reducing currents of high voltage for laboratory purposes.
Experience : a Chapter of Prolegomena. By the Rev. WILFRID RICHMOND.
London : Swan Sonnenschein & Co., Limited, 1896. Pp. iii., 64.
In the first section of this little book the author attempts to establish
the validity of the testimony of experience in face of the generally
prevalent Agnostic theory that we cannot know. This disbelief, he
finds, is grounded in the Lockeian theory of knowledge, and is confirmed
by Kant's treatment of the subject. Neither Locke nor Kant went
behind self-consciousness to the more fundamental and simpler state of
consciousness in which knowledge really arises. This state of conscious-
ness is here called " Feeling," and is said to stand in the same relation
alike to intellect, to emotion, and to will. Language can describe but
not express it. It precedes and conditions the correlation of subject
and object in self-conscious perception, "but there is no 'I' in it".
"The feeling as felt is neither subjective nor objective." The author
thinks that with this view of the relation of sense to thought, "the
world we know resumes its place as real," and "the presumption against
the possibility of knowledge is removed". Two short sections, entitled
respectively " Proof " and "Reality," follow, in the latter of which the
author indicates his view that the answer to the question, " What is
Reality? " is to be found in Personality.
B. E. M.
Hypnotism, Mesmerism, and the New Witchcraft. By ERNEST HART.
Second edition, enlarged. New York: D. Appleton & Co., 1896.
Pp. viii., 212.
In 1893 Mr. Hart put together certain papers, previously published in
the Nineteenth Century and the British Medical Journal, with the view of
" dissipating some popular errors and a good deal of pseudo-scientific
superstition, superimposed on a slender basis of physiological and
126 NEW BOOKS.
pathological phenomena," and of "unmasking a prevalent system of
imposture". The book was so well received that a second edition is
now called for. The author has added a note upon the hypnotism of
'Trilby,' and a chapter entitled 'The Eternal Gullible,' in which he
narrates the confessions of a professional ' hypnotist '. His preface
takes the extremist view that ' hypnotism, when it is not a pernicious
fraud, is a mere futility ' : but it is only fair to add that this extreme
attitude is not maintained throughout the work. Thus we read (p. 134)
that hypnosis is "a subjective phenomenon of great interest, and of some
complexity ".
The effect of the book cannot but be wholesome. It stands with
Lehmann's work upon short-distance telepathy, and the recent study
of double personality made by Miss Stein and Mr. Solomons, as an
effective protest against current occultism.
The Evolution of Bird Song, with Observations on the Influence of Heredity
and Imitation. By C. A. WITCHELL. London : A. & C. Black,
1896. Pp. x., 253.
Though written from the biological standpoint, this little book is a
welcome contribution to our knowledge of avian psychology. The
author's observation is accurate and his style clear. The ten chapters
discuss the origin of the voice, alarm notes, the influence of combat, the
call note, the simplest songs, the influence of sex, age, weather, etc.,
upon singing, heredity as affecting the permanence of bird cries, variation
in bird voices, the influence of imitation on bird song, and the music of
bird singing.
Lectures on Human and Animal Psychology. By W. WUNDT. Translated
by J. E. CREIGHTON and E. B. TITCHENER. Second edition, revised.
London : Swan Sonnenschein & Co., Limited, 1896. Pp. x., 459.
The text of this edition differs in no essential respect from that of the
first. Minor changes have been made throughout the book : a long
passage in the section on the Development of the Intellectual Functions
one of the most difficult in the work has been rewritten (pp. 315, 316)
so as to bring the connexion of the author's thought into clearer light ;
and a five-page index of names and subjects has been added.
Fear. By A. Mosso. Translated from the fifth Italian edition by E.
LOUGH and F. KIESOW. London, New York, and Bombay : Long-
mans, Green & Co., 1896. Pp. 278.
Professor Mosso has attained to high eminence in physiology, and upon
the whole has deserved well of experimental psychology, despite the
fact that his instruments are more apt to set problems than to solve
them. His book on Fear, which has already seen several editions in a
French version, is of an extremely popular type : observation and
criticism are sound as far as they go, but are interspersed with an
infinite deal of emotional 'padding'.
Dr. and Mrs. Kiesow have produced an accurate, and in the main
readable, translation. As the popular character of the book will
probably ensure it another edition, it may be worth while to note a few
blemishes which can easily be removed by the translators. The reviewer
has found idiomatic expressions on pp. 32, 40, 50, 85, 93, 125, 139, 149,
176, 181, 188. The 'last year' of p. 69 should be changed. Minor
slips or misprints appear on pp. 51, 75, 163, 199, 200, 210, 215, 229, 266.
' Meynart ' and ' Duchenne de Boulogne ' are unfamiliar personages.
NEW BOOKS. 127
La Theorie Platonicienne des sciences. Par ELIE HALEVY. Paris :
Felix Alcan, 1896. London : Williams & Norgate. Pp. xl., 378.
The object of this book, as defined by the author, is " en etudiant la
theorie platonicienne des sciences, tenter un essai de solution des
contradictions platoniciennes ". M. Halevy holds that Plato's apparent
inconsistencies flow from the antithesis which we find in his writings
between Critical and Constructive Dialectic, and that this antithesis is
itself apparent rather than real. He endeavours to establish his theory
by a systematic interpretation of the dialogues, in the course of which
many of the difficulties in Plato's metaphysical doctrine are discussed,
and a tolerably complete system of philosophy is expounded.
The author will not allow that the critical or negative dialogues are
necessarily earlier than the constructive. On the contrary, his ex-
position of critical, or, as he calls it, regressive dialectic, draws more
largely from dialogues, which are now generally regarded as late, such as
the Sophist, Thesetetus, and Philebus, than from the so-called Socratic
dialogues. This is in harmony with his general conception of Plato's
purpose, which is that Plato used regressive dialectic to sift notions,
to disabuse the mind of the false persuasion of knowledge, and to lead
the pupil up to the height from which he might begin to see the reality
of things by the aid of progressive dialectic. Thus far, M. Halevy's
distinction is like the intellectual ascent and descent of book vi. of the
Republic.
The work itself, exclusive of the Introduction, falls into two divisions,
concerned respectively with the two kinds of Dialectic. The results of
the Regressive variety are shown so far as concerns Body and Soul, the
State and the Individual, Practice and Theory, and the Problem of Parti-
cipation. It need hardly be said that many of the author's statements
are open to question ; for nothing can be predicated about Plato which
will not arouse opposition. M. Halevy's general attitude may be
gathered from his treatment of the relation between Soul and Body.
" Le corps n'est qu'une fa9on de parler de 1'ame." It may perhaps be
doubted whether much is to be gained for the elucidation of Plato by
using in so difficult matter a " fa^on de parler," which Plato did not
himself see fit to employ. But if it is the framing of a philosophical
system at which we are aiming, and not simply the explanation of Plato,
such a procedure is legitimate enough, and the readiness with which
it commands approval is an extraordinary proof of the flexibility of
Plato's genius. " Hie liber est in quo quaerit sua dogmata quisque,
Invenit et pariter dogmata quisque sua." But to return. As the Body,
so far as it exists, exists for the sake of the Soul, so, in a certain sense,
the State exists for the Individual : " la science de la repression penale
n'est que par et pour la science de 1'enseignement ". Here, as it seems
to the present reviewer, M. Halevy stands on surer ground, and also
when he argues that Philosophic Education aims at implanting scientific
virtue in contrast to social or psychological virtue, as depicted in books
ii. to iv. of the Republic. The discussion of the problem of participa-
tion centres chiefly on the Parmenides, which is " a la fois le dernier
terme de la dialectique regressive et la preparation de ce second
moment de la philosophie platonicienne, oil la dialectique systematise
et construit". This part of M. Halevy's treatise appears to us
particularly thorough and well thought out ; but whether it will carry
conviction to Platonic students, is another question.
The second part of the work before us takes as its point of departure
vur)(rts or <pp6vrj(Tis " qui consiste dans 1'accord interne, o/xoi/otn, et dans
128 NEW BOOKS.
la reflexion sur soi, a-ufypoa-vvi] ". No justification is given for equating
two ideas so distinct in Plato as vorja-is and (frpovrjcris, but M. Halevy
probably means vorja-is. Thought has three necessary forms, Being,
Motion, Rest, to which are added Identity and Difference, making the five
pfyurra yevr} which we find in the Sophist. The next stage in the evolu-
tion of things from vovs is number. In his account of the yevftris dpt^oG,
M. HaleVy appears to us ill-advised when he interprets the creation
of the soul in the Timieus as a symbolical account of the evolution or
creation call it what you will of number. That Xenocrates should
have taken this view was natural enough, for he explained Soul as a
self-moving number, which Plato never did, so far as we know. Soul,
as Plutarch observes (De animx procreations, 1013 c), was regarded
by Plato as a (frvms CIVTOKIVTITOS, the fount and source of movement,
whose essence was ordered by numerical ratios, from which however it
is itself distinct. Nor can such an interpretation be maintained without
doing violence to the language of the Tirnxus (35 A). Next in order of
evolution come the mathematical relations, after which the sciences
connected with Motion are discussed. Finally, the science of politics is
reviewed in the light of regressive dialectic.
The work is vigorously written, and will be found interesting by
those who adhere to the allegorical method of interpreting Plato. To
us it appears far abler than the majority of such works. M. HaleVy
does not always, so we think, escape the besetting dangers of the
allegorisers, looseness of interpretation alternating with over-subtlety
where a point is to be gained. One striking instance will be found on
p. 296, where fjujxavaa-dai is said to mean "produire une illusion par des
precedes methodiques," and trw/m ffj.rj^avT)a-avro in Tim., 45 B is accordingly
taken as indicating that "un corps n'est done, en derniere analyse, qu'
une apparence produit d'une machination ou d'une illusion divine".
Unhappily for this theory ^ v x v " fV"?X a "'7 ' aTO i g sa *d * n 34 c : are we
then to call Soul a mere illusion too ? The fact is, so at least we think,
that Plato will never be satisfactorily interpreted until we are content
to explain each dialogue in the first instance by itself alone, and leave
allegory alone till this has been successfully achieved. The scholarly
interpretation of Plato's language is an indispensable preliminary to
any sound theory of his philosophy ; and when this result is reached,
we shall perhaps need allegory much less than now.
. J. ADAM
Essai sur I' Art contemporain. Par H. FIERENS-GEVAERT. Paris : Felix
Alcan, 1897. Pp. x., 174.
This essay, or rather these essays, dealing with various aesthetic subjects,
are knit together by a moral intention increasingly insistent. The author
dips into the psychology of artistic production and of critical interpreta-
tion, and in ' L'Evolution de 1'Art 1 makes an interesting contribution to
the history of medieval art. But his explicit object throughout is to arouse
those of the younger generation who are casting about for an outlet to
artistic proclivities, or who are already launched, to a sense of the moral
sublimity of the mission of art, and to guide them in the arduous and baffl-
ing task of self-knowledge and self-culture. In the chapter, for instance,
on the rule de la Volonte dans la creation artistique, the treatment is moral
throughout, the artist being exhorted to resist giving way to aboulie and
the delusion that he can do no good work save in the minutes benie? when
the fit is on him, to guard well against the temptations of sense, since
every feeling is a volition in the germ, and to obey " the laws of the
NEW BOOKS. 129
investigation of truth " as strictly as the man of science and the philoso-
pher. For the creative artist, if he be of those whose works are not let
die, is the bearer of an " instinct " which is the mysterious x equating
his solidarity with the aspirations of the past and present, and his indi-
vidual spontaneity ; and in giving play to that instinct he has, not in
spite of, but by way of all that is most individual in that spontaneity, to
make felt " the mighty fasces of myriad human wills ". Two chapters on
the critical gift and its utility are not among the least interesting in the
book. If the artist represents nature, the critic re-represents it in inter-
preting the work of art, and should be therefore as sympathetically dis-
posed in approaching his material as is the efficient artist in his own
sphere. He should combine the artist's sensitivity with the analytic and
inductive insight of the philosopher. In the final chapter on the future
of plastic art, M. Fierens-Gevaert, while believing that inasmuch as art
is a perennial need in social life, the pursuit of it will live, is not en-
couraged by the prospects of highest art-production under democracy and
socialism. Its first fruits lead us to look for a revival only in the minor
arts of decoration. It may, however, strike the reader that he, like
many others, has but bowled over the straw man he or the pygmeen
thinkers he quotes from, whoever these may be, have set up. Wagner,
Millet, and Whitman, as Edward Carpenter points out (Progressive Review,
i., 1), were the harbingers in art of the tendencies he is apprehensive
about, and they constitute not a poor beginning. His final exordium is
on behalf of a revival of architecture, and whereas his opening chapter
pleads, as against the tendency to rapprocher and combine and treat alike
the different arts, that " the splendour of their individuality" should be
respected, he ends by urging the plastic artist to apply his finer vision
to architecture, and the architect to revert, as of old, to Nature. Possibly
both must wait till their creations can become the expression of a
worthier and humaner social and economic system.
Finally, with the more intensive and the more catholic historical know-
ledge of to-day such sentences as this should be impossible : " La societe
antique n'a pas connu la charite, 1'amour des petits ; done nous diffe"rons
des Grecs et des Remains ".
C. A. F. RHYS DAVIDS.
Theorie Nouvelle de la Vie. Par FELIX LE DANTEC, Ancien eleve de 1'Ecole
normale superieure, Docteur es sciences. Paris: Felix Alcan, 1896.
Pp. 320.
The mam novelty in M. Dantec's theory is the emphasis laid on as-
similation as the fundamental and essential vital process. All other
functioning is merely the concomitant of the building up of living sub-
stance by a system of chemical interactions. Dissimilation is connected
not with vital activity, but with its absence. The author supports his
theory with great vigour, and he shows exceptional clearness of thought
and exposition. He begins with a careful study of the life of unicellular
organisms, or " complete plastids," as he calls them. Such plastids do
not depend for their life and growth on chemical interaction with other
plastids. In multicellular organisms the reverse is the case. The book
is certainly worth reading, though the author seems somewhat hasty and
dogmatic in laying down the law on a subject which is so enormously
complex and so enveloped in mystery. In particular, he does not seem
to see that the more completely mechanical is the explanation of vital
process, in the abstract, the more urgent is the need of a teleological
view of its actual concrete development.
9
130 NEW BOOKS.
Precis d'Histoire de la Philosophie. Par A. PENJON. Paris : Paul Delaplane,
1896. Pp. vii., 381.
The author claims for this book that it will be found readable by those
who are quite ignorant of philosophy. He has given within a very brief
space a lucid and attractive exposition of the doctrines of leading thinkers
from Thales to Kant, together with some indication of the nature of post-
Kantian developments. The general reader will find the book useful,
and it may also serve as a text-book for a course of lectures given to
elementary students. It must be said, however, that at some points
M. Penjon's exposition and criticism are misleading. The short account
of Hegel is almost pure fiction. Plato is represented as a poet rather
than as a philosopher. According to M. Penjon the logical outcome of
the Kantian system is subjective idealism ; to say this is to ignore the
central point of Kant's teaching, the doctrine that thought essentially
consists in objective reference ; it would be truer to say that the logical
outcome of the Kantian system is the destruction of subjective idealism.
Eine Trias von Willensmetaphysikern. Von Dr. PHIL. SUSANNA RUBIN-
STEIN. Leipzig : Alexander Edelmann, 1896. Pp. 95.
This essay consists of three parts. The first sketches in broad outline
the most salient features of Edward von Hartmann's Ethico-Meta-
physical system embodied in his Philosophie des Unbewxssten. The second
and third present the opinions of his two principal contemporaries,
Mainlander and Bahnsen, on the same subject. The doctrines of von
Hartmann, says Dr. Rubinstein, are a fusion of the conceptions
characteristic of Schopenhauer and Hegel respectively, the will and
the idea, (p. 4). Yon Hartmann postulates a primordial unconscious
potentiality out of which has emerged consciousness and will. The will
is continually striving to satisfy the representations of consciousness,
and being perpetually baffled in this attempt there ensues an ever
present state of pain, so that consciousness is always an apprehension of
pain. Pain and will are the only two modes of reality.
On page 47 Dr. Rubinstein sums up the pessimismus of Hartmann as
an example of the irony of intellectual culture, presenting as it does the
Universe as the theatre of infinite misery designed only to end in
annihilation. Mainlander, merchant, poet, soldier, philosopher, was
born at Offenbach, Frankfort, with the family name of Batz, in 1841,
and died, 18T6, apparently by his own hand. Mainlander seems to have
exercised his dialectical skill chiefly in the attempt to reconcile the will
of nature, or the cosmic process, with the will of the individual agent, or
human volition, the fatalism in the Universe with the autonomy of the
monad, or henad, as it seems to be termed in modern German Meta-
physic (p. 82). Bahnsen's chief work, Realdialektik, treats of the
contradiction between knowing and being; his speculations are com-
pletely suffused with the Hegelian logic, with its sterile antithesis of
affirmation and negation. Hegel's logic and Schopenhauer's pessimism
are not stimulating reading at this end of the nineteenth century ; one
wonders how they have had such a long life, and so many able expanders
and expounders.
T. W. LEVIN.
NEW BOOKS. 131
Grundriss der Geschichte der Philosophic, zum Selbststudium und fur
Vorlesungen. Von Dr. JOHANNES REHMKE, Professor der Philosophic
zu Greifswald. Berlin : Carl Duncker, 1896. London : Williams &
Norgate. Pp. 308.
Dr. Rehmke's Outlines furnish a concise, and at the same time wonder-
fully clear, presentation of the history of philosophy, ancient and
modern. He has been able, more effectively than the average historian,
to efface his own personality, and, in sketching the growth of philosophical
doctrine, to avoid anachronous or irrelevant criticisms. His view of
philosophy is expressed in a single page of Introduction, as the
Universal or Fundamental Science, whose subject is the " world in
general," and whose aim is to determine the significance of "reality as
a whole in its universal characteristics ". With so general a view no
fault can be found, nor does it appear to exclude from the history of
philosophy any of the problems or authors usually suggested by the
name. As is natural, Kant is accorded more space than any other philo-
sopher, and the treatment of him is both full and just. Is it necessary,
however, to use such a term as " kriticistisch " ?
The exposition of the individual doctrines of each writer is systematic
and clear, while the relations of successive thinkers to their predecessors
are well brought out. English Philosophy of the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries receives very adequate treatment. History, how-
ever, does not go beyond Schopenhauer and Lotze. It is not bio-
graphical, and there are no references to particular passages of the
works discussed, an omission which is due, probably, to consideration
for the class of students for whom it is designed.
J. L. M.
Vie Schopfung des Menschen und seiner Ideate. Em Versuch zur Versohnung
ewisch^en Religion und Wissenschaft. Von Dr. WILHELM HAACKE.
London : Williams & Norgate, 1895. Pp. 484.
The development of human ideals is referred to the same fundamental
tendency which, according to the author, governs biological development
in general, ' the tendency to equilibrium '. All organisms tend to re-
cover equilibrium when disturbed, and their whole development is in the
direction of increased equilibrium. This is for the author equivalent
to more perfect unification. On the biological side he takes great pains
to explain and illustrate the general conception which forms for him the
key to human life, and the reconciliation between science and religion.
For him all nature is animated, and it is impossible to draw a sharply
denned line between the mental characteristics of a highly developed
human being and those of other organised or unorganised individuals. The
ideal of a rock crystal is a certain material configuration, and the ethical
ideal of a man is a certain line of conduct. The striving after the ideal is
in both cases a tendency towards equilibrium. The book is suggestive.
La Filnsqfia Scientiftca del Diritto in Inyhilterra : Studio Storico-critico.
Del Dott. GIACOMO LAVIOSA. Parte i. : da Bacone a Hume. Torino,
1897. Pp. 850.
Although professing to deal only with the philosophy of law this is in
fact the first instalment of a complete history of moral philosophy in
Great Britain, chieny as represented by utilitarian thinkers, but by no
means to the exclusion of other schools. The author, who is a professor
132 NEW BOOKS.
of jurisprudence in the University of Parma, belongs to what is called in
Italy the Positivist direction ; that is to say, he accepts as much of
Auguste Comte's system as can be brought into harmony with the
modern phenomenist and evolutionary school principally represented by
Mr. Spencer. Professor Laviosa is an enthusiastic admirer of things
English. " The English nation," he says, "is now at the head of the
civilised world. It is the strongest, the most enterprising, the wisest,
the most cultivated, the most virtuous, the richest, the most brilliant,
and the soundest in the sciences and in useful inventions" (p. 528).
Even the severest philosophical critic may confess to a feeling of grati-
fication when he comes across such expressions in the pages of a foreign
historian, and of one, moreover, not in the least given to rhetorical exag-
gerations. But Professor Laviosa has merits which speak for themselves
without needing the advocacy of the patriotic bias. His book, so far as
it goes, is a thoroughly good piece of work. He seems to have the whole
literature of the subject not only English, but German, French, and of
course Italian at his fingers' ends. His analyses of the various systems
passed in review are copious, lucid, and discriminating. As might be
expected, the greater part of his space is devoted to Hobbes, Locke, and
Hume ; but justice is done to moralists with whom he is much less in
sympathy, such as Butler on the one side and Mandeville on the other.
The many excellent monographs and general or special histories that
have appeared in recent years have indeed furnished him with ample
materials for his construction ; and a well-read English student will
perhaps find nothing that is quite new in these pages. But we must
remember that the book is destined in the first instance for an Italian
public ; and neither the Italian nor any other continental language, so far
as I know, can show anything on the same subject to be compared with
it for value.
Perhaps that part of the work which lays itself most open to criticism
is the Introduction. Professor Laviosa attributes far too much import-
ance to Bacon and to the Baconian method. It may be doubted whether
the great Chancellor did as much for physical science as Mrs. Somerville.
For moral science he did absoluteh* nothing. The practical and empirical
tendencies of English thought were inherited from a much earlier period
than his, as has been shown by Groom Robertson, whose admirable essay
on " The English Mind " seems to have escaped even our author's wide
reading. And the leading ideas of English ethics are derived not from
Bacon but from Greco-Roman philosophy. Neither can the distinction,
affirmed by the Introduction, between two streams of tendency, the one
English and scientific, the other continental and metaphysical, be main-
tained in its full rigour, although of course it contains an element of truth.
Among the systematic moralists here discussed Hobbes stands first, and
the foreign filiation of Hobbes has been placed beyond a doubt by Tonnies,
confirmed on this point by the supreme authority of Croom Robertson.
And whether scientific or not, the method of the Leviathan differs as pro-
foundly from the inductive method of Bacon on the one side as it differs
on the other from the metaphysical opportunism of Locke. Indeed
Professor Laviosa, who greatly prefers Hobbes as a moralist to Locke,
himself draws attention to the opposition between their points of depar-
ture no less than between their conclusions. But he seems to ignore the
significant circumstance that Hobbes no less than Locke was simply
seeking a speculative justification for political preferences dictated by
personal or party considerations a procedure which he very justly stig-
matises in his Introduction as a standing mark of the whole metaphysical
tradition (p. 40). And the fact that this bias is shared by moralists of
NEW BOOKS. 133
every school seeuis to detract enormously from the value of ethical
philosophy as a basis for legislation and social reform. When it comes
to practice, the same principles apparently lead to opposite results, and
the same results are, with an equal show of reason, deduced from oppo-
site principles. Hume is as conservative as Hegel, Green as liberal as
Mill. Our author himself, in that glowing panegyric on the English
people to which I have already referred, attributes its excellences to the
possession of political liberty a liberty which we should not now be
enjoying if his two great favourites, Bacon and Hobbes, had shaped the
course of history. Another contrast insisted on by Professor Laviosa as
distinguishing the Baconian from the Cartesian tradition, the English
from the continental school of thought, is its monism (p. 10). But the
dualism of Descartes was overcome by his immediate successor, Spinoza,
while it reappears in Locke, whose ethics, like Butler's, have a large
theological infusion. Moreover, if geographical considerations are to be
brought into philosophy, a word might have been said about the charac-
teristic differences between the English and Scottish schools, differences
which are absolutely ignored in the present volume, and which no doubt
look smaller to an observer at Parma than they look to us.
It is unfortunate that so good a book as this should be disfigured by
so many misprints. As might be expected, these occur mostly in English
names and quotations, but the Italian text is not immaculate. For the
rest Professor Laviosa strikes me as a very accurate writer. I have
only noticed two unimportant slips. Algernon Sidney is mentioned as
writing against the absolutist theory in 1698 fifteen years after his
execution (p. 279). It should have been said that his book was first
published at that date. And Locke is praised for having formulated a
certain economical proposition " a century and a half before Adam
Smith " (p. 470), when half that figure would have been much nearer the
mark. ALFRED W. BENN.
Sintesi Gotmica, ossia Dimostrazione dell' Unita psico-fisica delta Natura e
del suo Oggetto in rapporto ulle Relazioni che I' Uomo ha con se, col Pros-
simo e col Mondo. Introduzione allo Studio della Rivelazione dtll' Elite e
Regno suo. Acireale, 1896. Pp. 88.
This little work, which is an introduction to the author's larger treatise,
The Revelation of the Ens, starts with the assumption, among others, that
the efficient or creative cause of the world is the Ens or Being in itself,
and that this Being is in act (in atto), and thus is in perpetual activity.
This fundamental cognition is to create a new aspect of the world and of
science, and throw the light of a ray divine over the last hour of the
troubled night of the human mind. And so on in somewhat over-con-
densed review of many things, from the " essential cyclicity " of ele-
mental matter to the Abyssinian war and the Bontgen rays. The
argument seems it may be not through the fault of the writer to fail in
cogency and to suffer by a straining after simplicity in generalisation, an
end that is of course always attainable when many data are viewed as
negligible quantities. " Marvellous simplicity of truth and nature 1 "
for instance " the whole universe is explicable solely by the law of the
individuazione dell' atto e dell' futto ". The book ends with a challenge to
those who, after reading it, would accuse metaphysical speculation of
" nullity and impotence". It is a pity that the enemy should be given
cause to blaspheme.
134 NEW BOOKS.
De Platonicis Mythis, thesim Facultati litterarum Parisiensi proponebat
LUDOVICUS COUTURAT, Scholae Norinalis olim alumnus. Parisiis
edebat Felix Alcan bibliopola MUCCCXCVI. Pp. 118.
In his thesis M. Couturat offers, as a means towards understanding
Plato, an inquiry into the interpretation of the Platonic myths. This in
turn depends on the answer to the question, How is the mythical part of
Plato to be distinguished from the non-mythical ? The first book of the
thesis is occupied with the latter inquiry, the second with the former. In
an introduction Plato's use of the word fj.vdos is gathered from the
various passages hi which it occurs.
The result of the first book is to define ' mythical ' hi such a way that
not only the obvious myths, but also the allegories, and even whole dia-
logues, are included under the term. To give an example of the extreme
view maintained in the thesis : The Republic, which depends on the
analogy between man and the state, is regarded as mythical, Respublica
tota nihil nisi magna et mera allegoria esse videtur, quod etiam ex
indiciis multis concludere licet, quae mythum plane denuntiant (p. 49).
One of these indicia is the reference to the goddess at the beginning of
the dialogue (TTpoo-ev^d/Aei/o? T rfj $e<a KOL a/xa rfjv foprfjv /3ov\6fi.tvos
0eacrafr#at, 327 A).
In reality the subject of the second book is not so much the interpreta-
tion of the Platonic myths as a discussion whether the leading Platonic
doctrines are mythical or not. And, with the exception of the doctrine
of ideas, they are all condemned : the doctrine'of the gods, the doctrine
of the genesis of the noa-pos, the doctrine of the soul, reminiscence, im-
mortality, and the future life. This conclusion seems too sweeping. The
contradictions in Plato cannot be resolved into mere differences in the
mythical expression of his real view. The doctrine of reminiscence, for
instance, must be regarded as a vital part of the theory of ideas, or at
least, if it is to be regarded as a myth, it is a myth whose vnovoia was not
clearly distinguished by Plato himself from its expression.
Enough perhaps has been said to indicate that M. Couturat's thesis is
to be regarded rather as an academic exercise than as an important con-
tribution to the study of Plato. At the same time it is not without
interest from the clearness of the exposition and the simplicity of the
view maintained.
RECEIVED also :
E. B. Titchener, An Outline of Psychology, New York, Macmillan & Co.,
1896, pp. xiv., 352.
G. W. Leibnitz, New Essays concerning Human Understanding, together
with an Appendix consisting of some of his shorter pieces (trans-
lated by A. G. Langley), New York, Macmillan & Co., 1896, pp.
xix., 861.
H. Hughes, Religious Faith, London, Kegan Paul, Trench & Co., 1896,
pp. xvi., 337.
G. C. Robertson, Elements of Psychology (edited from notes of lectures by
C. A. Khys Davids), New York, Charles Scribner's Sons, 1896,
pp. xiii., 268.
A. C. Fraser, Philosophy of Theism, being the Gifford Lectures for 1895-96,
second series, Edinburgh and London, W. Blackwood & Sons, 1896,
pp. xiii., 283.
W. S. McKechnie, The State and the Individual, Glasgow, James Mac-
Lehose & Sons, 1896, pp. xv., 451.
NEW BOOKS. 135
H. K. Lewis, The Child : its Spiritual Nature, London and New York,
Macmillan & Co., 1896, pp. viii., 222.
T. D. Hawley, Infallible Logic : a Visible and Automatic System of Reason-
ing, Chicago, 1896, pp. 700.
S. Harris, God, the Creator and Lord of All, New York, Charles Scribner's
Sons, 1896, vol. i., pp. x., 579 ; vol. ii., pp. vii., 576.
G. Santayana, The Sense of Beauty, New York, Charles Scribner's Sons,
1896, pp. ix., 275.
R. P. Halleck, The Education of tlie Central Nervous System, London and
New York, Macmillan & Co., 1896, pp. xii., 258.
Roisel, L'Idee Spiritualiste, Paris, Felix Alcan, 1896, pp. 200.
H. Bergson, Matiere et Me'moire, Paris, Felix Alcan, 1896, pp. iii., 279.
F. le Dantec, Le Determinisme Biologique, Paris, Felix Alcan, 1897, pp.
158.
A. Aall, Geschichte der Logosidee in der griechischen Philosophic, Leipzig, 0.
R. Eeisland, 1896, pp. xix., 251, London, Williams & Norgate.
J. Cohn, Geschichte des Unendlichkeitsproblems im abendlandischen Denken
bis Kant, London, Williams & Norgate, 1896, pp. 261.
A. Doring, Die Lehre des Sokrates als Sociales Reformsystem, London,
Williams & Norgate, 1896, pp. x., 614.
R. Eucken, Die Lebensanschauungen der grossen Denker, zweite, umgear-
beitete Auflage, London, Williams & Norgate, 1897, pp. viii., 492.
R. Baerwald, Theorie der Beyabung, Leipzig, 0. R. Reisland, 1896, London,
Williams & Norgate, pp. x., 289.
H. Ellis and J. A. Symonds, Das Kontrare Geschlechtsyfuhl, Deutsche
Original-Ausgabe (Bibliothek fiir Socialwissenschaft, 7. Band),
Leipzig, Georg H. Wigand's Verlag, 1896, pp. xi., 308.
R. Dodge, Die motorischen Wortvorstellungen, London, Williams & Norgate,
1896, pp. 78.
M. Wentscher, Uber physische und psychische Kausalitat und das Prinzip
des psycho-physischen Parallelismus, London, Williams & Norgate,
1896, pp. 122.
C. Cantoni, C'orso Elementare di Filosofia, Volume Terzo, Storia Compen-
diata della Filosojia, Quinta Edizione, Milano, Ulrico Hoepli, 1897,
pp. xv., 517.
S. Fragapane, II Problema delle Origini del Diritto, Roma, Errnanno
Loescher & Co., 1896, London, Williams & Norgate, pp. 296.
G. Mantovani, Psicologia Fisiologica, Milano, Ulrico Hoepli, 1896, pp.
viii., 165.
IX. PHILOSOPHICAL PERIODICALS.
PHILOSOPHICAL REVIEW. Vol. v., No. 4. H. Calderwood. ' The
Relation of Intuitionisin to the Doctrine of Self-Realisation.' [Current
intuitionism as a theory of our knowledge of the moral law, which includes
self-realisation as an end ; Sidgwick's criticism. Self-realisation as ethics
of the end : its monistic or idealistic form (Green) ; regarded as depen-
dent upon exercise of human intelligence (Green, Dewey, Muirhead, etc.).
Self-realisation implies knowledge of the end ; its weakness lies in the fact
that it offers an incomplete theory of this, and so gets into difficulties as
to the end itself.] J. H. Hyslop. ' The Fourth Dimension of Space.'
[There are ' logical principles, which not only vitiate the argument for
the existence, or even possibility, of this dimension, but make the talk
about it mere child's-play '. ' The logical terms of the problem take us
wholly beyond the limits of geometry and mathematics.'] A. Llano.
' Morality the Last of Dogmas.' [' In the course of time, all moral feel-
ings . . . will disappear from the human mind and cease to have any
influence upon the further development of the race.' In other words,
the evolution (or dissolution) ' of morality is from duty towards right, the
former diminishing as the latter increases '. Psychological reasons for
this view ; indications of its correctness in present religious and political
tolerance.] Discussions. J. E. Russell. ' Self -consciousness, social
consciousness and nature.' [Criticism of Royce's proofs that ' there is
other human experience than my own,' and that ' nature is other reality
than human experience '.] R. B. Johnson. ' Mr. Balfour and Transcen-
dental Idealism.' [Criticism of Daniels' paper, Vol. v., No. 1.] M.
Washburn. ' The Intensive Statement of Particular and Negative Pro-
positions.' [Jevons' equivalent proposition in intension for a universal
negative may in some cases be equivalent to a particular affirmative
instead. It is useless to try and find an intensive equivalent for the par-
ticular proposition.] Reviews of Books. Summaries of Articles. Notices
of New Books. Notes.
Vol. v., No. 5. O. Pfleiderer. ' Is Morality without Religion Possible
and Desirable ? ' [Consideration of arguments brought by moralists
against a religious sanction for ethics, and by representatives of religion
against a non-religious ethics. Those who demand ' a truly ideal morality
and a truly ethical community must labour, not for a morality outside of
the Church, but for a reformation within the Church '.] J. C. Murray.
' The Idealism of Spinoza.' [A careful analysis of the doctrine of the
Ethics, which the writer takes to be ' that the universe, under all its
varied phases, is essentially an evolution of intelligence '.] EL GrifFing.
' On the Relations of Psychology to Other Sciences.' [Examines the re-
lations of psychology, from the o posteriori and a priori standpoints, to
other sciences, especially physics and physiology. Concludes, not very
convincingly, that problems and methods are often the same for all.]
S. E. Mezes. ' The Cause and Function of Conscience.' [The psycho-
logical cause of conscience ( = every approval and disapproval) is volun-
tary action, apprehended as such. Hence the varietj T and variations of
consciences. With the appearance of voluntary action comes the
jeopardising of the self-sacrificing race-preserving instincts : it is the
function of conscience to act as counter-check upon apprehended volun-
PHILOSOPHICAL PERIODICALS. 137
tary action.] Reviews of Books. Summaries of Articles. Notices of New
Books.
Eeprint, Sept., 1896. Supplement L, June, 1895. Supplement II.,
June, 1896. [These two Supplements, which are separately purchasable,
contain the first part of Dr. E. Adickes' ' Bibliography of Writings by
and on Kant, which have appeared in Germany up to the end of 1887,'
bringing it down to the conclusion of the year 1804. There are 571 pp.
of continuous bibliography, 23 pp. of additions and corrections, and 27
pp. of indices. The work includes elaborate essays on the philosophies
of Maimon, Schulze, Beck, Schiller, Tiedemann, Fichte, Politz, Schelling,
Bouterwek, Herder, Bardili, Krug, etc., etc. The author is to be sincerely
congratulated on the completion of this portion of his task, and the
Editors of the Review have earned the lasting gratitude of all students of
philosophy. A word of praise should also be accorded to the anonymous
translator, who has done his work excellently. It is to be hoped that we
may soon see the first instalment of part ii., which should be even more
valuable than part i.]
PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW. Vol. iii., No. 4. J. Dewey. ' The Reflex
Arc Concept in Psychology.' [The idea of the reflex arc is a fairly satis-
factory general working hypothesis. But, as currently employed, it gives
us an arc, without indicating the circuit of which it is the arc : co-ordi-
nation, the regarding of genesis and function, is necessary. ' It is the
circuit within which fall distinctions of stimulus and response as functional
phases of its own mediation or completion.'] Studies from the Psycho-
logical Laboratory of the University of Chicago, (in.) : J. R. Angell and
S. F. McLennan. ' The Organic Effects of Agreeable and Disagreeable
Stimuli.' [A contribution to the study of the feelings by the physiological
method. Gives no reference at all to previous work, and thus entails
needless labour upon the reader.] (iv.) : A. Tanner and K. Anderson.
' Simultaneous Sense Stimulations.' [In the main, a repetition of Ur-
bantschitsch's work. A useful paper, which would have been much im-
proved by detailed references and a better method of presentation.] J.
Kodis ' Some Remarks upon Apperception.' [The term has been
employed to mean an event which imparts clearness to representations,
reflective knowledge, and an act of knowledge produced by the impact of
two groups of representations. The second meaning (Kant) is the best.]
R. H. Stetson. ' Types of Imagination.' [Examination by questionnaire
of 100 college students. Classification ; general remarks.] H. Griffing.
' On Individual Sensibility to Pain. : [Pain sensibility to sensory stimu-
lation varies with the conditions of stimulation. There probably is such
a thing as ' general sensibility to pain '.] E. W. Scripture. ' The Third
Year at the Yale Laboratory.' [Of. vol. ii., p. 879.] Discussion and
Reports. A. H. Lloyd. ' A Psychological Interpretation of Certain
Doctrines in Formal Logic.' [Formal copula, concrete and quantified
predicate, abstraction of time, definition, rules of distribution.] M. W.
Calkins and J. Jastrow. ' Community of Ideas of Men and Women.'
[Report of new experiments at Wellesley ; reply to criticisms of Jas-
trow and Ellis ; remarks by Jastrow. Miss Calkins concludes, seemingly
with right, that ' the essential difference between masculine and feminine
mind ' is untouched by Jastrow's method.] Psychological Literature.
New Books. Notes.
AMERICAN JOURNAL OF PSYCHOLOGY. Vol. vii., No. 4. T. L. Smith.
*0n Muscular Memory.' [An attempt to estimate the part played in
normal memories by the 'muscular' or 'motor' element, i.e., by the
muscle-joint-sinew sensation complex. Two points were investigated :
the influence of memories of throat, tongue, and lip movements upon the
recall of syllables ; and the ' muscular ' memory of hand movements.
138 PHILOSOPHICAL PEKIODICALS.
Results too detailed for summary.] E. EL Lindley. 'A Preliminary
Study of some of the Motor Phenomena of Mental Effort.' [Question-
naire returns. Relation of automatisms to muscle-groups, sex, age,
posture, etc. Conclusion : " Many automatisms represent processes for
the production and maintenance of central nervous energy, as well as
for the protection of the state of attention. . . . Others are the result of
defective control, and consequently represent serious leakages of energy.
Many of the postures suggest reversion to foetal postures and also to
primitive attitudes."] T. R. Robinson. ' Light Intensity and Depth
Perception.' [With high intensities, the light required for the second
eye, if the stereoscopic effect is to ensue, is very small. There is a wide
range between the lowest point of combination of objects and complete
stereoscopy. Suggested explanation of Fechner's paradox.] F. Drew.
' Attention : Experimental and Critical.' [Experiments, with and with-
out attention, upon reaction-tune, association, least noticeable interval :
effect of attention differs, according to the conditions of the experiment.
Brief historical sketch of some attention literature. Plea for the use of
the unconscious in psychology. Theory of attention : " Attention, as a
psychic fact, follows and depends on the muscle tension, and we do not
attend to an idea until after the idea-stinrnlus has run its course. The
links that connect our ideas and bring them into the field of consciousness
are these kinaesthetic sensations, and our personal power is shown in
rejecting some and holding to others. As our bodies could go nowhere
save for bone resistance, so our minds' endeavours would be fruitless
without muscle objectification."] Bibliography. 35. C. Sanford. Note
on the Foregoing.' Psychological Literature. Notes and News.
REVUE PHILOSOPHIQUE. No. 7. July, 1896. L. Dauriac. ' Etudes
sur la psychologie du musicien. VI. Le plaisir et 1'emotion musicale.'
[Emphasises the direct physiological effect of music on the organism as
the essential source of the pleasure it gives.] GK Dumas. ' La joie et la
tristesse.' [Considers the physiological conditions of grief, and especially
the state of the circulation.] Miinz. ' La logique de 1' enfant.' [Notes
among other points that the acquisition of language by the child is, in the
first instance, spontaneous, and not due to imitation.] Revue gsnerale :
Travaux de psycho-physique. Analyses et coinptes rendus, etc.
No. 8. August. G-. Dumas. ' Recherches experimentales sur la joie et
la tristesse.' III. Conclusions. [The emotion is always the ultimate phe-
nomenon which is preceded and determined by changes in the circulation,
and these changes are linked by intermediate processes with changes in
the mental state. When the origin of joy or grief is purely organic, ideas
are secondary facts, serving only to explain to the subject his emotional
state. When the primary source of joy or grief is mental, the idea is a
primary fact, and the emotion is referred to its true cause. In reply to
the question how ideas give rise to the vaso-motor changes which produce
joy and grief, Dumas falls back on the distinction between the free and
impeded flow of cerebro-mental activity. The thesis of Lange is sup-
ported by new observations and experiments.] Abbe' Jules Martin.
' La rnetaphysique et la science.' L. Dauriac. ' Etudes sur la psychologie
du musicien.' Revue Critique. H. Lachelier. ' La psychologie generale
d'apres Rehmke.'
No. 9. September. A. Lalande. 'De la fatalite.' [The question
which has really interested mankind, is not that of free-will in the
technical sense, but the struggle of self-determination against external
conditions or " destiny ".] J. Soury. ' La cecite corticale.' [Lesion
of one part of the brain occasions functional disablement of other co-
operating parts. This explains the peculiar features of cortical blind-
ness as distinguished from blindness due to peripheral lesions.] P.
PHILOSOPHICAL PERIODICALS. 139
Tannery. ' Sur la periode finale de la philosophic grecque.' [Emphasises
the importance of the early Aristotelian commentators.]
EEVUE DE ME"TAPHYSIQUE ET DE MORALE. 4 e Aiuiee, No. 4. Juillet,
1896. Numero specialement consacre a Descartes. Consists of ' Essays
on the Method, Metaphysics, Moral Doctrine, and Physics,' etc., of
Descartes. B. Gibson. ' La geometric de Descartes au point de vue
de sa methode.' [Exhibits the relationship of the ' Begulse ' to the
Geometric, and explains the application of the ' Method ' to Geometry.]
J. Berthet. ' La Methode de Descartes avant la Discours.' [The
' enumeration ' inculcated in the ' method ; is not inductive, but strictly
deductive. " M. Liard has rightly observed that Descartes' discovery con-
sists less in the explanation of geometry by algebra, than in the explana-
tion ot algebra by geometry." Notices that Descartes had discovered his
Method and his science before essaying ontological speculation : only
later on he connected physics with God's existence, etc.] P. Natorp.
' Le developpement de la pensee de Descartes depuis les " Begulae "
jusqn'aux Meditations.' [All Descartes' idealism proper is contained in
the ' Method '. Afterwards, in his metaphysics, he becomes only a demi-
idealist, reaching his gravest deviation from critical idealism when he
makes the truth of intelligence rest on the ' Divine veracity '.] A.
Hannequin. ' La Preuve ontologique Carte'sienne defendue centre Leib-
niz.' [Leibniz charged Descartes with neglecting to show the ' possi-
bility ' of " the supremely perfect Being," thus rendering the proof of
his existence null and void. Leibniz also charged Descartes with errone-
ously regarding existence as a perfection. Against these charges Hanne-
quin defends Descartes.] H. Schwarz. ' Les Eecherches de Descartes
sur la connaissance du monde exteVieur.' [The problem of the origin of
the belief in the external world is psychological ; that of its veracity is meta-
physical. The differentiation of the former problem from the latter was
completed by the speculations of Descartes, who, however, did not
succeed in freeing himself from the psychology of the schools as he had
freed himself from their metaphysics.] We can do no more than mention
some of the essays which follow in this splendid Number of the Revue.
P. Tannery. ' Descartes physicien.' E. Boutroux. ' Du rapport de la
morale a la science dans la philosophic de Descartes.' V. Brochard.
' Le traite des Passions de Descartes et 1'fithique de Spinoza.' An
article by Ch. Adam of great value to the student of Descartes concludes
the Number, containing a list of all the philosopher's extant autographs,
etc., with an account of the places in which they are now preserved.
EEVUE NE"O-SCOLASTIQUK. No. 11. D. Mercier resumes the criticism
of the psychological system of Descartes, which he had commenced in
the preceding Number. He now maintains that the fundamental defect
of Descartes' system lay in this, that instead of regarding man as a single
composite substance resulting from the substantial union of body and
soul, Descartes regarded man as composed of two distinct substances,
complete in themselves, the thinking soul and the extended body. In the
succeeding Number of the Revue, M. Mercier will bring his study of
Descartes' psychology to a conclusion. P Mansion, returning to his
examination of the ' Principes de Me'tageornetrie ou de Geometrie
Generale,' explains the nature of postulates v. and vi., proves the
indemonstrable character of the postulates of Metageometry, and,
comparing together Metageometry and Kantism, points out that
Metageometry is radically opposed to the conception of space as a
necessary a priori representation, and, by demonstrating the futility
of what Lechalas has called Kant's ' Geometrical Imperative,' de-
stroys one of the foundations of the Kritik dcr reinen Vernunft. In
his treatise, ' De anima,' Aristotle discusses questions which are,
140 PHILOSOPHICAL PERIODICALS.
properly speaking, psychological. In nine Opuscula, which may be re-
garded as a complement to this treatise, he discusses questions of a
psychologico- physiological character. Amongst these Opuscula is a
treatise on dreams. In his article, ' Aristote et la psychologie physio-
logique du reve,' A. Thiery, taking this treatise, \\hich has been de-
clared by Bartheleiny St. Hilaire to contain the best explanation of
dreams which has yet been suggested, as his basis, sets forth Aristotle's
view of the nature of dreaming. In an article entitled ' Le Socialisme
scientifique d'apres le manifeste communiste,' C. Van Overbergh,
after comparing the various older forms of Socialism with the so-called
scientific Socialism as expounded in the ' Manifeste Communiste,' which
was drawn up in 1848 by Marx and Engels at the request of the Inter-
national Congress of the Ligue des Comrnunistes, proceeds to state the
general theory of scientific Socialism, and indicates what would result
from an application of this theory to family life and religion.
ZEITSCHRIFT FUR PSYCHOLOGIE UXD PHYSIOLOGIE DER SIXXESORGAXE.
Bd. xi., Heft 2. A. Meinong. ' Ueber die Bedeutung des "NVeber'schen
Gesetzes. Beitrage zur Psychologie des Yergleichens und Messens.'
[I. Vom Grossengedanken und dessen Anwendungsgebiet. 1. Magni-
tudes always lie within a series, continuous or discrete, which is bounded
in one direction by zero, and in the other by infinity. A magnitude,
then, is that which ' gegen Null limitiert '. 2. Magnitudes are either
perceptual (' anschaulich ') or not : thus movement and velocity can be
perceptually thought, by aid of ' fundierte Inhalte,' but are ' im eigent-
lichsten Sinne ' non-perceptual magnitudes. 3. Magnitudes are divisible
or indivisible : sound intensity, distance, and (among relations) difference
and similarity are indivisible magnitudes. Most non -perceptual magni-
tudes are indivisible : c/., however, multitude, (physical) mass, etc. II.
Ueber Vergleichung, insbesondere Grossenvergleichung. 4. Comparison
is the activity directed upon the formation of judgments of likeness or
difference, similarity or dissimilarity. On this definition, all things are
comparable. 5. Comparison is direct (gas and electric light) or indirect
(length of Rhine and Danube). Direct comparison, which gives results,
is restricted to certain classes of objects, and depends upon their sur-
roundings. 6. The ' like ' and ' different ' of comparison need no pre-
liminary and arbitrary definition (against von Kries). 7. The notion
that certain things, e.g., sound and light, are incomparable, arises where
the things compared are magnitudes, and is due to the change of ' like '
and ' different ' into ' greater,' ' equal,' ' less '. As magnitudes, they are
; like '. The more definite predicates presuppose that the zeros of their
series coincide : this is in every case neither self-evident nor demon-
strable. 8. At the same time, the objects of comparison m&y need de-
fining (c/. 6), and where we do compare for greater or less, the objects
must be qualitatively nearly related (cf. 4, 7). This holds where, as for
us, the magnitudes of comparison are differences. It does not mean,
however, that the relation of difference is atypical (von Kries), i.e., liable
to variation in kind. 9. The judgment ' hike ' is episteniologically in-
ferior to the judgment ' different '. The limit of apparent likeness is the
difference limen. 10. In the comparison of sensations and of sensation
differences nothing is gained, in very many cases, by speaking of ' notice-
ableness of difference ' in place of 'difference '. 11. Theory and practice
unite in favour of the expression ' just noticeable ' difference. Note,
however, that two j. n. d. need not be equal or even equally noticeable,
a statement borne out by the factual variability of the sensible dis-
crimination. We must distinguish s. d. of stimulus from s. d. of contents
(judgment limen). Difference of s. d. means inequality of j. n. d. ;
equality of s. d. is presumptive evidence of equality of j. n. (i.e., equally
PHILOSOPHICAL PERIODICALS. 141
n.) d. Hence we may speak of ' difference,' though we may have, later,
to take account of ' noticeableness '.] S. Landmann. ' Zur Diagnose
psychischer Vorgange, rnit besonderer Bezugnahme auf Hamlets Geistes-
zustand.' [Against Bosner : Hamlet was sane. Shows no knowledge of
the different sources of the play.] Litteraturbericht.
Bd. xi., Heft 3 und 4. M. Meyer. ' Ueber Kombinati on stone und
einige hierzu in Beziehung stehende akustische Erscheinungen. ' [Helni-
holtz' theory is not adequate to all cases. We must distinguish two
difference tones : the tone of m - n, and that of 2n - m. Hermann's
theories of the median and duplicate interruption tones will not hold.
Five vibrations (instead of Exner's 16) give us tone pitch. Difference
tones can be mechanically explained, by peripheral analysis of the curve
of the vibration. Wundt's theory of tone perception does not work.
A valuable article, both in critical and experimental regard.] A.
Meinong. ' Ueber die Bedeutung des "Weber'schen Gesetzes,' etc. [III.
Ueber Teilvergleichung und Messung. 12. We can compare divisible
magnitudes by their parts. Hence there may be more than one relation
of comparison (even if similarity is excluded) between two magnitudes.
Comparison by parts is (a) arithmetical (A - B) or (6) geometrical
(A : B). The resulting numbers are named, and are not relations : the
only relations which are magnitudes are difference and similarity (cf. 8).
(c) Proportionality is likeness of differences. 13. Measurement is com-
parison by parts, aided by physical operations. The mental process of
comparison is always present, however ' exact ' the science. 14. True
measurement is direct (line by superposed line) or indirect (scale and
weights). 15. Indirect measurement is true or surrogate (distance
measured by spatial extent, temperature by expansion, velocity by space
and time). Surrogate measurement occurs where the magnitudes to be
measured are indivisible (cf. 3). 16. And its possibility here is its justi-
fication. As for conditions : there is only one surrogate in each case ;
that must be a divisible magnitude, or if indivisible, measurable by a
surrogate ; its continuum must be strictly correlated with that of the real
object of measurement. IV. Ueber Messung von Grossenverschieden-
heiten. 17. Difference, an indivisible magnitude, must be measured by
a surrogate. Extent (Strecke) serves for many cases, even for tones and
colours, but not for all : indeed, there is no single surrogate for all differ-
ence. There may be one, however, for difference of measurable magni-
tudes of the same continuum. We must determine the functional
relation between these and the magnitude of the difference between them.
18. What of the arithmetical relation ? It breaks down in the case of
1 and : their difference is greater than that between any finite magni-
tudes. 19. Moreover, equal arithmetical difference (1 and 2, 1001 and
1002) is compatible with unequal differentness ; 20, while unequal
arithmetical differences may give the same differentness (constancy of
the relative s. d.). The constancy of the relative difference limen is
undisputed ; and j. n. d. are equal differentnesses. In the case of
supraliminal differentnesses there are apparently negative instances
(Merkel), but these are not strong enough to overthrow our thesis. 21.
Hence we must for the future distinguish between difference (arithmeti-
cal) and differentness, Unterxchied and Verschiedeiiheit. 22. What of the
geometrical relation ? It breaks down in the case of the equality of the
compared magnitudes ; in other respects, it does better service. 23.
What of the relative difference ? It gives equal vahies for equal, unequal
for unequal differentness ; it gives for the differentness of equal magni-
tudes ; it does not break down badly when one of the compared magni-
tudes is or oo . 24. But it has two forms : either of the compared m.s
may be divisor. If we test the matter algebraically, with three magni-
tudes, we find that the rel. d. with the smaller magnitude as denominator
142 PHILOSOPHICAL PERIODICALS.
(the form generally employed) leads to absurdities. 25. And if we test
the remaining form with four magnitudes, we again come to grief. 26.
We must conclude, then, that the differentness of two divisible magni-
tudes is equivalent neither to their absolute nor to their relative differ-
ence ; though we should greatly prefer to work with the relative, if a
choice must be made.] S. Reichard. ' Das Einfachsehen und seine
Analogien.' [We see singly with two eyes : but we have analogies in
hearing, smell and touch (sensory circles). All are cases of sensation
simplicity with stimulation of distinct nerve endings.] Litteraturbericht.
PHILOSOPHISCHE STUDIKN. Bd. xii., Heft 3. W. Wundt. ' Ueber
naiven und kritischen Realismus.' (i.) [Realism is a catchword of the
day. Philosophical realism is 'a knowledge, unsophisticated and un-
sullied by any prejudices or arbitrary constructions, of the concrete
reality (Wirklichkeit) contained in the world of experience '. Plainly, the
philosophical discipline most nearly concerned is epistemology. The
realist must go back to the original mode of apprehension of the thinking
consciousness, to nai've realism ; and, that standpoint won. must subject
his results|to critical tests, determining their prominence and significance :
he thus advances to critical realism. One of the most important schools
of realistic thought to-day is that of the ' immanent philosophy, ' repre-
sented by Schuppe, von Schubert-Soldern, von Leclair, Rehmke, Kauff-
mann. This school has missed the right road to the comprehension of
the nai've consciousness, the road which lies open in the history of
scientific thought. Its tenets are criticised under the headings : Im-
manence and Transcendence, the Doctrine of the Subjectivity of
Sensations, Subject and Object, Aprioristic Elements in the Immanent
Epistemology, Identity and Causality, the External World as Conscious
Content, Psychology and Natural Science.] C. EL Judd. ' Deber
Raumwahrnehmungen im Gebiete des Tastsinns.' [Experiments by a
modification of Weber's method : the second pressure is given by the
instrument, instead of by the exploring hand of the subject. Literature
is freely quoted, but has not been thoroughly assimilated.] P. Kiesow.
' Beitrage zur physiologischen Psychologic des Geschmackssinnes.' (rv.)
[Temperature below the pain limit does not influence taste.]
VlERTELJAHRSSCHRIFT FUR WlSSENSCHAFTLICHE PHILOSOPHIE. Jahr-
gang xx., Heft 3. Th. Achelis. 'Adolf Bastian.' R. "Willy. ' Der
Ernpirio-kritizismus als einzig wissenschaftlicher Standpunkt.' E.
Wachler. ' Zur Natur und Entwicklungsgeschichte der ethischen
Erscheinungen u. Werthe.' M. Guggenheim. ' Nachtrag zum Artikel
iiber Spinoza.'
Heft 4. F. Carstanjen. ' R. Avenarius Berichtigungen zur " Kritik
der reinen Erfahrung ".' S. Kableschkoff. ' Die Erfahrbarkeit der
Begrifie gepriift an dern Begriffe der Erziehung.' E. Reich. ' Die
Sozialethik als Lehrgegenstand der Hochschule.' (Analyses will appear
in the April Number of MIND.)
ARCHIV FUR SYSTEMATISCHF. PHILOSOPHIE. Bd. ii., Heft 4. J.
Bergman. 'Wolffs Lehre vom Coniplementum possibilitatis.' C.
V. L. Charlier. ' 1st die Welt endlich oder imendlich ? '
Bd. iii., Heft 1. O. Schneider. 'A. Stadler's Klassifikation der
Wissenschaften.' A. Baumann. ' Wundt's Grundriss der Psychologic.'
B. Erdmann. ' Sprechen und Denken.' (n.) P. Natorp. ' Grundlinien
einer Theorie des Willensbildung.' (rv.) L. Stein. ' Ursprung und
socialer Charakter des Rechts.' (Analyses will appear in the April
Number of MIND.)
PSYCHOLOGISCHE ARBEiTEN. Bd. L, Heft 4. A. Loewald. Ueber
die Psychischen Wirkungen des Brorns.' [No influence upon the process
of addition, upon the central release of movements, upon the course of
PHILOSOPHICAL PEEIODICALS. 143
movement, and upon central motor excitations following bodily exertion.
Bad influence on capacity of apprehension (?) and the learning by heart
of columns of figures : good influence on the learning of nonsense
syllables, upon learning by heart under distraction, and upon the rapidity
of speech during learning of syllables. General effect : removal of
internal, unpleasantly toned inhibitions.] E. Roemer. 'Beitrag zur
Bestimmung Zusammengesetzten Ileactionszeiten.' [New apparatus,
simplified for psychiatrical purposes. Choice and word reactions.] G.
Aschaffenburg. 'Praktische Arbeit unter Alkoholwirkung.' [Experi-
ments with compositors. A moderate amount of alcohol decreases
work-power, on the average (8 expts.) by 15 per cent. ; fatigue decreases
it by 6'5 per cent. The amount taken made no qualitative difference.]
W. H. R Rivers und E. Kraepelin. ' Ueber Ermiidung und Erholung.'
[Experiments with addition. With half-hour work-spells, a rest of the
same or even double the time suffices to restore full vigour once only ;
afterwards capacity rapidly decreases. ' Spurt ' (Antrieb) is most obvious
at beginning and end ; it depends on personal factors ; its relaxation
indicates ennui. Capacity of practice is not dependent on capacity of
work ; it must be determined for itself, with constant errors eliminated,
and then serves as a measure of fatigue, etc. Errors of thought are due
to inattention ; errors of pen to rapidity of work, impatience, inattention.
There are many states of mind which are reliably indicated by the results of
experiments such as these.] E. Kraepelin. ' Vorwort.' [To first volume.]
PHILOSOPHISCHES JAHRBUCH. Bd. ix., Heft 4. Prof. Schutz. ' Der
Hypnotismus.' (Fortsetzung.) [The writer goes into the details of the
effects of hypnotism upon the imagination, the memory, the reason and
the will, illustrating his statements by numerous examples.] Prof.
TJebinger. ' Die Mathematischen Schriften des Nik. Cusanus.' (Fort-
setzung.) [This paper gives a summary of De Mathematices Complementis,
and examines the question whether two tractates ascribed to Cusanus
are really his.] Dr. Bach. ' Zur Geschichte der Schatzung der lebenden
Krafte.' [This, the first of several articles, is a historical review of the
discussions between mathematicians and natural philosophers in the last
three centuries as concerns gravitation, atoms, and the nature of matter
and force.] Dr. Geyser. ' Die Philosophischen Begriffe von Buhe und
Bewegung in der Korper welt.' [An attempt at an explanation of rest
and of movement in terms of Scholastic Philosophy.]
VAPROSI PHILOSOPHII i PSYCHOLOGII. May, 1896. N. A. Iwantsoff.
' On the Fundamental Principle of the Beautiful.' [Comparing ideal
with physical beauty, the author places the latter on a much lower
level.] W. J. Gerrie. 'Herder's Philosophy of History' (concluded).
[Herder's system was not teleological, but anthropocentric. Human
progress is the result of the general laws of the universe, but becomes a
conscious fact only by ethical law.] S. N. Trubeckoy. ' The Prin-
ciples of Idealism ' (continued). [Faith in the absolute reality of the
external world and of matter cannot stand against philosophical criticism ;
yet Being is concrete, and, as such, may be the subject of objective faith.]
W. Goltser. 'On Strachoff, as an aesthetic critic.' [Both Strachoff and
his master, Gregorieff, are severely judged.] W. T. Tshizh. 'Why our
Ideas of Space and Time are not subject to Change.' [The purpose of this
article is to show that physiological psychology confirms Kant's views on
the matter.] D. Konissi. ' The Book of Respect to Parents.' [A trans-
lation of Confucius' well-known work.] Baron D. Hincburg. ' The
Mystical Philosophy of the Jews in the Cabala.' [A literary and histori-
cal sketch of the evolution of Cabalistic literature.] N. D. VinogradofF.
' Psycho-physiological Researches on Microscopical Organisms.' [The
author uses Verworn and Binet's investigations on these organisms to
decide certain fundamental questions of biology and psychology.]
X. NOTES.
ADVERTISEMENT OF WELBY PRIZE.
A prize of 50, to be called the Welby Prize, is offered for the best
treatise upon the following subject :
" The causes of the present obscurity and confusion in psychological
and philosophical terminology, and the directions in which we may hope
for efficient practical remedy".
Competition is open to those who, previously to 1st October, 1896,
have passed the examinations qualifying for a degree at some European
or American University.
The donor of the prize desires that general regard be had to the
classification of the various modes in which a word or other sign may be
said to possess 'meaning,' and to corresponding differences of method in
the conveyance or interpretation of ' meaning '. The committee of
award will consider the practical utility of the work submitted to them,
as of primary importance.
The Essays, which may be written in English, French or German,
must be typewritten &nd must extend at least to 25.000 words. They
should be headed by a motto, and accompanied by a sealed envelope
containing the name of the writer. They may be sent to any member
of the undersigned committee of award, and must reach their address not
later than 1st January, 1898. The right of publication of the successful
treatise is reserved.
Professor SULLY, 1 Portland Villas, East Heath Road,
Harnpstead, London, N.~\V.
G. F. STOUT, University, Aberdeen, N.B.
Professor TITCHENER, Cornell University, Ithaca, N.Y.
Professor KULPE, Wiirzburg, Germany.
Professeur EMILE BOIRAC, 27 rue de Berlin, Paris.
TO THE EDITOR.
DEAR SIR, May I point out an unfortunate oversight made by me on.
pages 153 and 252 of Elements of Psychology edited from the lectures
of the late George Groom Robertson ? The review there quoted from
contained in the pages of this journal and signed " Editor," was by the
present Editor and not by Robertson, who had before then resigned.
To the former I offer my sincere apologies. Neither Mr. Charles Robert-
son nor Mr. Whittaker is responsible for this mistake, the notes quoting
from the review having been inserted after they had seen the proofs.
Believe me,
Yours faithfully,
C. A. F. RHYS DAVIDS.
NEW SERIES. No. 22.] [APRIL, 1897.
MIND
A QUARTERLY REVIEW
OF
PSYCHOLOGY AND PHILOSOPHY.
I. SOME PROBLEMS OF CONCEPTION. 1
BY L. T. HOBHOUSE.
I. The Data of Conception. Thought, as modern Logic
has taught us, is something which lives and moves. It does
not rest in one point nor content itself with ' net results,'
but is in incessant passage to something beyond. And in
trying to estimate its work at any given stage, we are con-
tinually faced by the difficulty that what is before us is
merely a stage, and its purpose and meaning are to be
understood only with reference to some wider whole. Thus
the conceptions and judgments in which the work of
thought seems at first sight rounded off and complete appear
on further reflexion to change their meaning and value a
good deal according to the interest which has dictated their
formation. We have constantly to take the context into
account and the context often threatens to be of indefinite
length.
This difficulty applies with especial force to an element of
thought so confessedly incomplete as conception. For the
concept is as a rule a mere element in some actual mental
operation, such as judgment, while the judgment is deter-
mined by a question, or is premiss in an argument and as
such has elements of meaning which its terms do not in
themselves convey. If then we are to deal with conception
at all without writing an essay upon thought in general,
there seems to be only one resource. We must go back from
1 Read before the Aristotelian Society.
10
146 L. T. HOBHOUSE :
the concept to the experience out of which it arises and to
which it refers. This experience we shall find constitutes
an intelligible totality of a definite kind and within it the
reference of the conception falls.
General conceptions are based on resemblances in the
order of experience. In such resemblances several factors
are ordinarily involved. There are, first, two individuals,
Callias and Socrates ; secondly, the common element, man-
hood, in which they are alike, and thirdly, the differences
which separate them. Further, on these two sets of at-
tributes relations of resemblance and difference between
the individuals are founded, and these relations are hardly
to be identified with the attributes themselves. Lastly, the
whole set of contents as finally analysed and compared form
a systematised totality for thought with a character of its
own. It is on this totality that the general concept, Man,
is founded, and within this that its meaning is to be sought,
but whether the concept as such should be taken to express
the totality as a whole, or rather some element within it,
is a point which we shall have to discuss later on.
Meanwhile what we have said is enough to fix the general
conditions under which conception arises. To form general
concepts we must mentally bring points of resemblance in
the empirical order together, that is, we must compare. And
in order to compare we must in some degree break up the given
order. This latter act is generally called abstraction and is
made the central point of the work of conception. But here
we are on the verge of error. For in the first place abstrac-
tion is rather a means to conception than a part of concep-
tion itself. That a content is general means that it is found
in many instances. It may be as abstract as pure being or
as concrete as this room with all its contents at this moment,
but as long as it can be said to be realised in more than one
case it is general and not merely particular. Of course in
point of fact the richer your content is in detail the less likely .
it is to be repeated point for point in any other case. So far,
I suppose, the old doctrine of the ' inverse ratio ' is a truism.
Hence, ordinarily, if you want resemblance, and especially
exact resemblance, you must ignore differences. And to
this extent abstraction as mere ' leaving out ' is a means of
forming the general concept. Abstractness is not as such
generality nor is generality abstractness, but the empirical
order being what it is, a tangle of resemblances and differ-
ences, one way of ascertaining and retaining resemblances
is to leave differences out of account.
So far abstraction figures as a means. But this is not all.
SOME PROBLEMS OF CONCEPTION. 147
Abstraction is defined as something negative. It is a leaving
out and nothing more. But for the purposes of comparison
it is not so much leaving out as singling out that is required.
The contents which I compare and from which my general
conception is formed are not likely to lie side by side. They
will be parted as a rule in Time and Space, and, moreover,
they are imbedded in a matrix of reality within which they
are, as likely as not, mere elements. To serve for comparison
they must obviously stand out in distinct relief. They must
be singled out and known for what they are. But this pro-
cess of discerning an element in a more concrete whole is
rather what we call analysis than abstraction. It is a
positive rather than a negative act. It does not necessarily
leave surroundings out of account, while it does make a
positive addition to the content before the mind by pre-
senting as a distinct element that which is otherwise merged
in a whole. There would be no theoretical objection to a
mode of conception which along with the general content
itself should retain its setting in every instance in which it
had been presented. Such a conception would simply
realise the extension in addition to the intension of the
content and would serve every purpose of an ordinary
generality so long as content and setting were kept distinct.
The leaving out of the instances and their setting is merely
a matter of intellectual economy, an economy, moreover,
which is liable to incidental drawbacks. So far then we
may say that while the idea and method of generalising are
based on comparison, the contents to be made general are
supplied by analytical distinctions within the order of reality. 1
II. Interpretations. Such being the data upon which
conception is founded it must in its usage contain at least a
potential reference to them all. But, consistently with this,
the overt and immediate interest of the concept may vary
as between any points lying within the data. And if the
overt and explicit purport of the concept is used as the basis
of a theoretical interpretation of its meaning, interpretations
will vary according to the bias of individual minds and
the nature of the instances on which the analyses are based.
Broadly we may say that there are three aspects of the data
1 Of course the more concrete the content the less important the func-
tion of analysis. The limiting case is where a content is taken up just as
it comes (e.g., in immediate Apprehension, or as the conclusion of an in-
ferential process), and turned into a general content. Even here the
content used must have some sort of context (e.g., the previous sense
object) from which it must be kept distinct. And to treat it apart from
this context is, so far, to analyse.
148 L. T. HOBHOUSE :
mentioned which naturally offer themselves as starting-points
for a theory of the concept. There is (a) first and foremost
the ' common ' quality which is the centre of the whole
matter. For the abstraction theory in its crudest form it
is enough to identify the content of the concept with the
common quality as such. It is not ' men ' but ' man ' that
forms its content. This theory, we should observe, works
much better in some cases than in others. It does not seem
difficult, for instance, to form a general idea of whiteness
from which the differences in substance or shape of actual
white objects are simply dropped. Nor is it hard to think
of motion or pressure in a definite direction without special
reference to other characteristics of the body which is moving
or pressing. I do not insist that we can form abstract ideas
without some irrelevant imagery. I mean only that in such
cases the irrelevance is so clear that we have no doubt about
it. We know exactly what we mean by ' white ' or
' heavy,' and we have no temptation to confound them with
other attributes of things. If there is still no ' leaving out '
there is at least an adequate ' singling out '. But in other
cases we seem to be much less successful. Theoretically
curves of the second degree are in exactly the same posi-
tion as white objects. They all agree in certain points and
differ in others. A cabbage and a whale, again, agree in
being organisms while they differ in other respects. But
when the abstraction theory is pressed on these instances it
begins to have the air of a fiction. To this theory a content
is nothing if not definite, and the demand for a fixed and
unchanging conception in these cases begins to put too great
a strain on our intelligence. There seems at first to be a
resource in the enumeration of elements. Whales and
cabbages are both composed of cellular tissue, both as-
similate nourishment, reproduce their species, and so on.
But ' this is the by-path on which the Abstraction wanders
from the path of the concept and abandons Actuality'. 1
These elements however carefully enumerated are not
adequate to the idea of organism and leave us unsatisfied.
And apart from them it seems impossible to fix the con-
ception as something identical in all cases. The common
element will not stand out from the differences as clearly as
in the first instances.
We shall return to this point later on. But we note mean-
while a more general objection to our present account. In
the common content taken merely as a content the element of
1 Hegel, " Wissenschaft der Logik," Werke, v., p. 59.
SOME PROBLEMS OF CONCEPTION. 149
generality has disappeared. A quality as a quality can only
exist in an individual, that is, here and now, as a particular
case. True, we can drop the particularity out of sight and
think of the content as merely qualifying reality. But if we
forget that the qualification must take place after all in
individual instances we are on the high road to another
fiction which will consist essentially in this, that we try to
find the essence of universality in a mode of existence which
is not individual. The universal will be thrown into contrast
with its manifestations and a nervous sense of insecurity
will make us shout very loud about its superior reality as
compared with the mere particular. And this tendency will
find support in many of the cases to which we have just refer-
red. When the common content cannot be distinctly pointed
out ground is given for the charge that no individual ade-
quately represents it. No instance is really typical; still less is
it ideal. Here at least there seems, to be a bona-fide qualitative
contrast. And if so, surely the ideal must have a reality of
its own to which the mere particular is an imperfect approx-
imation. Deny this and you appear as an iconoclast, a de-
stroyer of all that men most cherish in experience, while
the opposing theory ' upholds the banner of the ideal ' and
applauds itself as saviour of society. This is the fallacy of
the supersensible, a fallacy which is always at bottom the
same though its forms are many and various. Professing to
be superior to sensationalism it rests on a view of reality
quite as crude as the sensationalist. Its reality must be some-
thing which it can metaphorically touch and see. It must
have its object distinct, crystallised, and unchanging. It
insists on what is intellectually solid quite as much as
sensationalism on what is physically solid. And when you
point out that the principles in which it is interested are of
a quite different character it supposes you to be destroying
them. In a word, while imagining itself possessor of the
spirit it is the hopeless bondslave of the letter. It is but
another step, and the whole force and value of the world of
ideas is taken violently from it and thrown into the super-
natural. Right and wrong, for example, are taken to be
worth so little that, unless there is hell fire behind, they may
follow the national honour and be ' expunged from the dic-
tionary '. And the irony of the situation is that the very
same man who thus insists on the nullity of moral obliga-
tion poses, and quite honestly to boot, as the defender of
morality against the wicked Sceptic who ventures to find
an intrinsic and adequate authority in the honourable and
the right, as right and honourable. This is the descensus
150 L. T. HOBHOUSE :
Averni on which we enter when we find the distinction of
universal and particular in a different mode of reality. The
Myth of Er will have to bolster up our demonstration of the
happiness of the just. And as against the whole conception,
Aristotle who probably had sufficient intellect to under-
stand his own teacher as well as any average nineteenth
century commentator can do will be justified in insisting
that the avrodvOpwTros cannot be defined in any way which
will not apply to the men of our experience.
By reaction from the abstract idea we come naturally to
the view (/3) that the general content is really an expression
for resemblances between individuals. In a sense no doubt
this is true. But resemblance cannot be put in antithesis
to the qualities in virtue of which things resemble one
another. And if or in as far as the concept is based
on an adequate analysis, the resemblance which it expresses
will be not a vague relation between the individuals con-
cerned as concrete individuals, but a precise relation grounded
upon certain qualities which they possess. So far then from
delivering us from the quality, resemblance brings us back
to it again at the first turn.
Lastly (7) the concept may be taken to cover a certain
intelligible totality of experience a mass of individuals
taken as related by their qualities in certain assignable
degrees of resemblance and difference. To predicate a
general term of a subject may then be taken as equivalent
to assigning it a place in such a system. This account
again is true in a sense. For according to our original
principle the concept must, directly or indirectly, explicitly
or implicitly, contain a reference to the whole of the experi-
ence from which it is drawn. But this is really our starting-
point, and what we want to find out is how the conception
organises this experience for use in ordinary thought. And
from this point of view we may note two objections. First,
this interpretation would tend to throw all predication into
a disjunctive form. To assign a thing a place in a whole
is to leave a great deal indefinite unless we can go on to
determine what that place is. And so the disjunctive
theory of the concept is just as abstract in its way as the
abstract theory itself. It leaves out information, and infor-
mation which one would think to be relevant. In fact this
scarcely seems to do justice to all cases of the general
content. ' The fire is out ' is surely as definite a piece of
information as one could wish to have. T$o doubt it admits
of further definition (the fire went out in a particular way,
at a particular time, and so on), but this does not in the
SOME PROBLEMS OF CONCEPTION. 151
least interfere with the clearness and fixity of the predicate
as we have it.
Secondly, if the totality is taken as identical with the
class the old difficulty recurs. The class is not, as such, a
structural totality in which any component individual has
its ' place ' in the sense of fulfilling a function relative to
the whole structure. On the contrary, the class, as Mill
urged, is a mere dependant. It rests upon the common
quality. And with that admission we have come back to
our starting-point once more.
III. Species of the General Concept. We shall be able
to understand and perhaps to unite these interpretations
better if we advert further to certain real differences among
general contents on which we have already touched.
(a) The abstract quality. In certain cases, as we have
seen, the concept has a very clear and precise content,
which stands out of itself, so to say, from its surroundings
and runs no risk of being confounded with any of them. I
do not mean that such a content can be represented 'by
itself,' in vacuo, but that however represented we are quite
clear that the context is irrelevant. A square, for instance,
must be presented either to sight or touch, and in the first
case it must have colour, and in the second it must have
some tactual character. But this gives us no trouble. The
outlines of our content are perfectly well defined. We
know where it begins and ends and are under no tempta-
tion to merge it in anything else. A consequence is that
squareness is a conception applied with perfectly identical
meaning. It admits of no latitude and will hear of no com-
promise with the oblong or the pentagonal. The Principle
of Excluded Middle is its rule of conduct. ' Either a square
or not a square ' is the maxim by which it measures things.
It is a perfectly hard crystalline concept.
(/3) The organic principle. In contrast at first sight
in absolute contrast with the last class stand concepts
based on that kind of resemblance which has given rise to
the expression identity in difference. Both characteristics
of the previous class are reversed. The common element
is not readily distinguishable from the specific differences,
and it is not applied with strict identity of meaning in all
cases. For though there is an element of identity it is no
longer unaffected by the differences, but the differences are
precisely modifications of the identity. Thus above we
had a quality A appearing in two contexts B and C. B
and C were modifications of the wholes A B and A C but
not of A itself. A appeared in each case unmodified. The
152 L. T. HOBHOUSE :
square was drawn in white chalk on a blackboard or in black
lead on white paper, but was no more and no less a square
in either case. Now here the attributes B and C are them-
selves modifications of A. A no longer appears in quite the
same character twice over.
Thus to take an instance as before from the world of
geometry, a curve of the second degree is a conception
which can be rendered algebraically by a certain general
form of equation. To this equation in its general form no
real curve corresponds, and though it expresses certain
qualities or relations of actual curves it seems impossible to
form any adequate conception of the curves themselves as
curves except by what we may call disjunctive illustration.
If in the general equation the sum of certain coefficients is
determined as negative the curve will be an ellipse ; if as
positive it will be a hyperbola ; if as zero a parabola. The
general expression is here a form to be filled in, which does
not acquire positive and intelligible meaning until filled in.
It is related to intelligible conception as the word to the
sentence. And since the form can be filled in in more than
one way the general is here equivalent to the disjunctive.
Further, though the form has to be filled in, and though
the net result will differ according to the way in which we
fill it in, it remains in all cases the same form. The general
equation holds whether certain coefficients have a positive,
negative, or zero value. Each curve is a special and
peculiar modification of identical elements. True, the re-
lation of general and specific is in this case so organic, that
we cannot adequately conceive the one without the other in
some one of its forms. The 'modification' is not a real
process applied to a real element and developing it in time
into a new form. But the reality expressed by the phrase
is the nature of the resemblance or characteristic affinity
between the curves, as it presents itself upon ultimate
analysis. The two or more contents resemble one another
not in a vague or unanalysable sense, but in a way which
may be accurately represented by saying that each presents
a peculiar differentiation of a common quality.
Lastly the disjunction involved is no longer indefinite.
And here we have another point of contrast with the abstract
quality. For if ' square ' is to be interpreted disjunctively,
there is no end to the alternatives. A square drawn in
chalk or pencil, or cut out of paper or cardboard, or formed
in any way you please will do equally well, the nature of the
material leaving the squareness quite unmodified. In other
words the concept as abstract does not contain "the prin-
SOME PROBLEMS OF CONCEPTION. 153
ciple of its differences". 1 With the General Equation it is
quite another matter. The sum of its coefficients must have
a definite value, and this must either be zero or some
quantity with positive or negative sign. Hence the number
and nature of the alternative modifications are deducible
from the general conception itself when taken in conjunction
with certain general axioms concerning quantity in fact as
Aristotle would put it from the ISia apxrf* which defines the
7i>o9 in conjunction with certain KOIVO, a^Lw^ara of wider
application. 2
The deduction is not indeed always as simple as this. An
animal must respire, and must therefore have some specific
method of respiration. But there are no assignable elements
in the conception of animal organisation, from which we
could infer that the methods of respiration must be such as
we find and no more. We might doubtless say a priori^
that respiration must either take place through a special
organ or through the undifferentiated surface of the body.
But beyond this we could not go, even, as recent investiga-
tion tends to show, by bringing the laws of osmosis in to our
assistance. And this is no mere accident of incomplete
knowledge. On the contrary, all we know of organic evolu-
tion would go to prove that the form of the respiratory
system will depend as much on the environment as on the
organism itself, and that with a modified environment a
different method of breathing would be possible. In such a
case the general conception contains the germ rather than
the principle of its different forms, and the development of
the germ will depend in part on considerations which we
must regard as external.
The mention of the ' germ ' recalls another point on which
a few words may be said. We spoke above of the element
of identity as a mere abstraction, but there may perhaps be
cases in which the element or tendency which appears in
many varying forms should also be allowed a certain reality
upon its own account. It seems to be so, for example, with
ethical ends. Thus we might define the Socialistic spirit as
the attempt to extend the principles and conduct which are
realised with tolerable success in the family to the state at
1 Cf. Hegel, op. cit., p. 47.
2 Of course we may so define any given curve as to make it quite as
definite as a square. And such a curve would be realised in a variety of
ways which would be quite irrelevant to it. Conversely the square itself
may be treated as a specific case of a higher ' organic ' concept. The
distinction is between the relations of each concept to the cases coming
immediately under it. See below, V.
154 ' L. T. HOBHOUSE :
large and even to humanity as a whole. This spirit is an
actual force operating in the minds of men and women. It
is a living desire or purpose and proves its independence in
this, that it survives failure and actively searches for new
forms of expression. And it is the more worth while to insist
on this because in the various movements, political and in-
dustrial, which it animates, it is more or less alloyed with other
motives. The differences here are not merely developments
of the general conception. The principle may be lost in
detail or marred by its contact with grosser realities. In
fact in such a case we are between Scylla and Charybdis.
There is a fallacy of the abstract on one side and a fallacy
of the concrete on the other. In the one case the principle
remains an empty aspiration, a pious formula. In the other
it is dissolved in the detail of organisation and machinery.
There is an abstract practicality as well as an abstract
theorising.
On the other hand the element of identity may, seemingly,
disappear altogether, and we may have a very well marked
system of contents neither exactly alike nor capable of being
represented as differentiations of a common quality. This
I imagine to be the case with colour. We cannot represent
the different colours as modifications of a common colour
quality, but only as different combinations of two or three
tints. Here the concept falls back upon a quality which is
no longer identical in all cases, but only more or less alike ;
and it is only so far as the limits of variation are known that
it can be said to retain any definiteness of character.
IV. The Concept in Knowledge. We may now bring our
two cases together and consider the results for the general
theory of the concept. In the first case then we have a
quality existing unchanged in many instances and in diverse
contexts. It is only one attribute (or complex of attributes)
of the reality to which it belongs and it cannot exist except
in conjunction with other attributes. But these attributes
do not modify it. They are to be regarded as being along
with it attributes of or elements in the whole which they
form. They are not attributes or modifications of the quality
itself. In the second case the attributes along with which
the common quality is given are in fact modifications of
the quality itself. As between one case and another the
resemblance is not complete but partial, and if we wish
adequately to express the reality we cannot always separate
the point of resemblance from the point of difference and
throw them into contrast with one another. In any case,
the generic element and its specific modifications are so
SOME PROBLEMS OF CONCEPTION. 155
related that either is incomplete and threatens to be mean-
ingless without the other.
It follows that a conception as actually appearing in
thought will have somewhat different meanings according
to the class to which it belongs. Take the abstract quality
first. When I say that ' the fire is alight,' I do so presum-
ably for the purpose of giving information. The point of
interest to iny hearer is that the coals laid in a particular
fireplace have entered upon a definite state. In short the
real interest is in a particular fact a quality belonging to
an individual thing. At first sight the element of generality
has disappeared. We only find it again when we consider
how the information is imparted. I choose a certain word
to express the fact before me because that fact resembles
others in my experience, and, as I assume, in yours also ;
and to facts of that kind the term in question has been ap-
propriated. The interest in the judgment is confined to the
particular, but the terms used, taken in their full significa-
tion, express that the particular through the quality assigned
resembles other things. The concept, we may say, as organ-
ised along with other terms into the Qualitative Judgment
becomes an element in our knowledge of a particular fact,
but in virtue of the residue of its meaning it brings this fact
into relation with others. And this residue may in turn
become the point of interest in a new judgment and the
same concept may contribute to a quite different thought.
In the real world of thought the concept exists in order to
be used, that is, to be combined with other thoughts and so
produce results. And in these combinations now one and
now another element of its meaning will be emphasised. The
residue will sometimes be obscurely felt, but will probably
be always a condition, realised or unrealised, without which
the actual thought could not be formed. But in all cases its
reference is to the same reality, the existence in many things
of qualities resembling one another. The quality merely as
abstracted from its surroundings is not general. It is at
best indeterminate. It is a content with a certain character,
but generality is not a part of that character. Resemblance,
again, is a relation depending upon character, but in which
the character is not yet specified. The class of individuals,
again, fall as individuals outside the scope of the concept,
while the extent of the class is determined only by the
possession of the character. The true general content is
Reality, as similarly qualified in an indefinite number of
individual cases. This is the total meaning of the content,
in which the nature of the quality, the plurality of instances,
156 L. T. HOBHOUSE :
and the resulting resemblances are distinguishable elements,
any one of which may form the main contribution of the
conception to any Thought into which it enters. 1 In a very
general and abstract sense, the account we have given of the
abstract quality will also apply to the organic principle.
This principle also bears reference to Reality as similarly
qualified in an indefinite number of cases. But this is an
inadequate account. To say that the fire is alight is to say
something complete in itself, to bring out a net result. To
say of a curve that it is of the second degree, or of a physical
substance that it is an organism, may rather be said to be
setting a question than answering one. For any intelligent
learner the questions, w y hat sort of curve? what kind of
organism ? naturally arise. This follows quite logically from
the nature of the case. The content now before us is not
something readily realised and identical in all cases. It is
something demanding further determination, and varying in
character according to the determination which it receives.
When a content of this kind is predicated the judgment is
categorical only in so far as it brings the subject decisively
within certain limits, and as certain elements of the predicate
are of the definite and unchanging kind. In this case there-
fore the universal tends to the form of a disjunctive system.
It stands for that character of Reality A, which modified by
a appears as a, by /8 as b, and so on. We should not
identify the element of generality with the system as such.
It is still the aspect of similarity which makes the content
general. But we should say that the system is one in which
the general and particular are taken as distinguishable but
inseparable. 2
1 A. rather common and seductive fallacy arises from the neglect to
distinguish these elements. A quality is called a ' universal ' when it
forms the nucleus of a general content in the way above described ; and
the other elements requisite for generality are omitted from consideration,
or, worse still, are sometimes inserted, and then again omitted, as the
exigencies of any given argument may require. To take only one
instance, we are told that of the individual nothing can be known but
what is general. The only ground for such a statement is that the
qualities assignable to an individual must be expressible in general terms,
and therefore points in which it is similar to others. But a thing doea
not lose individuality by entering into relations. The argument proceeds
as though individuality and generality were mutually exclusive qualities,
one of which a thing might possess but not both, instead of being
expressions for the resemblances and distinctions between things of which
the latter invariably implies the former.
2 The concrete individual presents us with this union in actual fact, and
this made Hegel take it as the highest phase of the concept as such " In
der Einzelnheit ist jenes wahre Verhaltniss, die Untrennbarkeit der
SOME PEOBLEMS OF CONCEPTION. 157
V. The Relations of the Species. So far we have spoken
as though any given content fell into either one form of the
concept or the other, according to circumstances and just as
it may happen. But we may go a little farther than this.
In the first place we have, so far, been engaged mainly in
setting two types in contrast with one another. Actual
concepts may vary between the two. Absolute definiteness
and constancy is a limiting case, and a content may approxi-
mate thereto without reaching it. The irrelevance of the
context may be more or less complete. The more constant
the content and the more irrelevant its context, the more
categorical its usage. There remains always the sense
of a disjunction (so to put it) in that the quality must be
realised in this way or that. Even the square -^inust be
either drawn in chalk or pencil or in some other way, it
must be of a definite size, and occupy a certain position.
Similarly in the other species the element of identity per-
sists and is categorically predicated, while the differences
are not wholly and purely its modifications.
We may go a step farther. Viewed broadly the distinc-
tion tends to coincide with a certain grade in the hierarchy
of classification. If there is a true infima species all differ-
ences within it are wholly without effect on the constancy
of the content. They are all of the irrelevant order. But
the same cannot in the most important cases be said of the
ascending genera. In the truest classification the species
exhibit the genus in a modified form. And this distinction
tends to coincide with two others. For our infima species
will be a kind of " first universal " an attribute simple or
complex, clear or obscure, taken straight out of experience
as it comes, and categorically asserted or denied of fresh
subjects ; while the genus as now understood will pre-
suppose these universals, and grasp their somewhat complex
and subtle affinities in a single thought. And, secondly,
upon the whole the species as nearer to the concrete is
more distinctly realisable. As we get farther back we come
to that which, more and more, is bound to take a distinct
form upon itself in order to acquire any distinct and realis-
able character.
VI. Relation to Classification and Inference. From what
Begriffsbestimmungen, gesetzt " (op. cit., p. 61), but we must remember
that the individual instance can only be taken as " a universal "
with the limitations laid down in the preceding note, while the total
system cannot be identified with an individual as a structural or con-
tinuous unity. For this reason, I have avoided the historic phrase
' concrete universal '.
158 L. T. HOBHOUSE :
we have just said it will be clear that our two forms of
conception serve in practice as the basis of two very different
types of classification. Take a system M in which a com-
mon element A works out under modifications a, yS, y, etc.,
into the forms A a = a, A^ = b, and so on. Here we have,
or may have, a hierarchy of classes in which as we descend
the scale every new species is formed by a fresh modification
of the common element. The classification is so far natural
that it exhibits the real structure of the species composing
it. And it wants but a step to pass into a genuine explana-
tion. If A as unmodified is a reality, and if a, &, etc., can
be regarded as real processes modifying A, the classification
is in itself an explanation of the genesis of the diverse
species. A would then figure in two senses, as a concrete
being at the beginning of a process and as an abstract
character running through the evolving forms. We are not
likely to find an instance of so simple a type. It is perhaps
most nearly realised in the sphere of human purposes. But
normally the most primitive form of a content has a definite
character of its own, something of which it loses in passing
to a richer and fuller phase of development. Primitive
society loses something as it develops into a higher form.
The protozoon is generically, I suppose, the unicellular
modification of the organic type. Still the classification
once made it is relatively easy to place the species in a
possible genetic order, and by verifying the historical charac-
ter of the genesis to translate the classificatory system into
an explanation of development. Further, such a system
may throw light on genesis even where its hierarchical
arrangement bears no relation to temporal development.
In such a system to know the factors in the formation of
any one member is virtually to know them for all cases.
Thus we may arrange forms of art or types of society in an
order of genera and species, and apart from positive evidence
of the development of one form from another light will be
thrown on their origin, since the arrangement will show of
itself how the conditions issuing in one type will, mutatis
mutandis, be responsible for others.
In contrast with all this stands the disjunctive classi-
fication for which the abstract concept is responsible. It
must needs be that disjunctive classifications be made. They
serve our purposes, prevent confusion, and provide ideally a
complete enumeration of types. They belong to the pre-
liminaries of science, the arrangement of the material and
the marking out of the subject-matter. But as science
progresses they tend to pass into the other type. Thus I
SOME PROBLEMS OF CONCEPTION. 159
suppose that in an early stage of zoology the conception of
an animal is grasped abstractly, i.e., by certain specifiable
characteristics in Aristotle's system, for instance, the pos-
session of sensation. Then animals are either vertebrate or
invertebrate, and vertebrates are either Mammals, Birds,
Fish, Reptiles, or Amphibia. And the characteristic of
possessing mammae is just as ' external ' to the vertebrate as
the grass which it eats is external to the herbivorous
mammal. The progress of Natural Classification consists
in a gradual transformation of these external differences
into alternative modifications of more primitive forms.
Somje quadrupeds have claws and some have hoofs ; some
hoofs are cloven and some uncloven. All this looks like the
merest accident, until the genealogy of the Horse shows
how the different results are progressive modifications of
a single form. Differences then which are at first mere
differences become as we go on connected differences, and
the organic classification supersedes the disjunctive by ab-
sorption. How far this process can go, whether in the ideal
of knowledge it would extend to all differences and embrace
the whole system of things, is a question which would take
us far beyond the limits of this paper.
In regard to inference, the abstract universal (as we may
now more correctly call it) is of course the basis of Syllogistic
Deduction, or, as Mill very appropriately called it, " the
Geometrical Method ". No one, as Bacon admitted, can
doubt the validity of Syllogism provided that the universals
which it uses are adequately founded and properly defined.
The real fallacy of Syllogism is to take it from the region of
the abstract and apply it to the organic universal. In so far
as the middle term is qualitatively unchanged in the two
premisses the conclusion holds. But the organic universal
is modified in every fresh species and if we take it ab-
stractly for purposes of deduction we shall go wrong. It
sounds plausible to argue that the Economic Man is no
more and no less an abstraction than Energy or Inertia.
But the precise difference is that the effects of Inertia are,
so far as they go, identical in all cases and we know exactly
how much to allow for them in whatever combination they
appear. But man as an economic agent differs according
to all gradations of his character and intelligence. Even his
selfishness if we single out that characteristic is one thing
if it is stupid selfishness, and quite another if it is far-seeing.
The difference of the two in their effects on the rate of
wages or the fate of a Trade Union would be immense. The
argument from what man does must yield here to the argu-
160 L. T. HOBHOUSE :
ment from what men do ; and speaking generally as we
pass from the abstract to the organic universal Syllogism
must give place to that correlation of independent general-
isations, which, in its nearest approach to Syllogism, is
identical with the Concrete Deduction of Mill.
What the organic universal lacks in relation to formal
reasoning it makes good in respect of what we may call the
method of art. There are two opposite fallacies with regard
to artistic representation in this matter of the Universal.
The first is that art should give us the type as such, that its
men and women should be embodied formulae like Inspector
Javert, or personified negations like the early Victorian
heroine. This amounts to a confusion between art and
mathematics. The countervailing fiction is that art should
give us the individual as such, which would reduce painting
to photography, and the romantic to the grotesque. It is
now an old saying that the truth of both views is to be found
in the Concrete Universal. And on our view this will mean
that Art represents a piece of life which with all the richness
of its individuality is yet easily recognisable as but one modi-
fication of the common experience of man. The element of
identity is the touch of nature which makes the whole world
kin. The misfortunes of Priam are not such as could fall on
you and me, and the drama of the Trojan War would look
strangely on the stage of our experience. But in Art the
kinship is revealed, and the common human element is
felt :
Sunt hie etiain sua praemia laudi,
Sunt lacrimae rerum et mentem mortalia tangunt.
The art-created individual is a starting-point for thought in
which the paths of analogy and generalisation are already
indicated. The lines of conceptual structure are made
clear in the concrete like the limbs of a statue under drapery.
It comes to us with an atmosphere of suggestiveness and
expansion due to the host of half-formed comparisons and
inferences of which it becomes spontaneously the centre.
And as inference is mostly unconscious, we may never draw
explicit generalisations from it, and if we do, they are likely
to be inadequate expressions of our real meaning. But it
will affect our attitude none the less, and will give us a
sureness of touch which we could certainly not derive from
the abstractions of the subject. An intelligent foreigner
might learn something of our tenant-farmer class, say, by
the study of blue books and histories. But he would learn
a good deal more from the study of Mrs. Poyser.
SOME PROBLEMS OF CONCEPTION. 161
VII. Deduction and the Essence. There is indeed one
aspect in which the organic universal appears as a basis of
formal deduction. If we take it as a disjunctive scheme in
which the alternative modifications of each item are taken
as known, it may, as above hinted, be used as a basal
principle from which the specific forms can be deduced. We
have here the Aristotelian ideal of science. We start with
the generic essence, the primary special principle which
states the ri <TTI of the yevos, while it also assumes the real
existence of something corresponding to its terms (the o ri
e'er). This generic essence contains several elements (TO,
v TU> ri eari KaTTjyopov/Aeva 1 ), and each of these in its turn
admits of further definition. Each of these definitions
will contain several elements, and through the mediation
of the term defined these are all shown to be attributable to
the generic conception. They are in fact the TrdOr) which
are thus proved /caO' avro of the ultimate 76^09. This is why
a science can, and according to Aristotle should, proceed
through definition. 2 Thus to illustrate from the Ethics
(though that is not strictly an aTroSet/crt/cr/ eTrtem^w/) ' happi-
ness ' must be assumed as an actual end for man, and must
be defined as an activity of the soul in excellence. Here we
have the U7ro$ecu9 laying down the existence of our general
subject-matter and defining its essence. Then taking up the
points of the definition, activity, soul and excellence may all
be further defined. Whatever enters into their definition will
become an element in the general conception of Happiness.
And the various elements in the definition of excellence,
et9, Trpoaipea-is, ^ea-orrj^, etc., will all be susceptible of further
definitions which will in turn admit of the same treatment,
until in <f>p6vrjcris (which here replaces &runi}pi?) we have
the complete system of reasoning which connects our general
principle with the various occasions of conduct as they
arise.
This theory must be criticised, not as an account of the
growth of science, but as a conception of its structure when
complete. From this point of view we may say two things.
First, the theory of the organic universal tends to justify the
conception of essence as such, and in particular the relation of
genus and species indicated by the Aristotelian theory. For
the common principle is the generic essence, and it contains
the elements which in their various modifications produce
the specific forms. And so far as we look at a subject in
1 See, e.g., Post. Anal., i., 22, p. 82, b. 37.
" nacrai al eirurrrmai St' opHTfiov yLyvovrat. Post. Anal., ii., 17, p. 99, a. 22 t
11
162 L. T. HOBHOUSE :
detachment from others, this seems an adequate expression
of the goal of knowledge. But here, secondly, we come 011
the limits of the Aristotelian conception. For Universals
do not live side by side and develop themselves indepen-
dently. Far the greater part of science is taken up with
their correlation, the constructions they form, the ways in
which they interact. And the essence itself does not show
a tenth part of its nature, does not display the properties
which we derive from it apart from its intercourse with the
wider world. The so-called properties of the thing are
mainly reactions to solicitation from other things. They
must be taken into account in forming our conception of the
essence, but they are not referable to it alone. We speak
for instance of the properties of light or heat as following
from the essential character of those phenomena. But
almost any property we could name depends on other
physical facts as well. Thus the ' latency ' of heat may be
taken as a property dependent on the nature of heat as a
mode of motion. So it certainly is. But it is equally de-
pendent on the constitution of solids, liquids and gases, and
might fairly be taken as a property of the physical constitu-
tion of bodies. But let us take Aristotle's own favourite
instance of the property of triangles that their angles are
equal to two right angles. Euclid's proof of this and I
suppose that it was the same proof that Aristotle had before
him does not attempt to deduce it from the definition of
the triangle as such. It proceeds by a special construction,
the production of a side and the drawing of a line parallel to
another side. In short it is based on the relation of the
triangle to other lines in space, and on the properties of
parallel straight lines in particular. It may be said that
this only affects the method of proof and not the result.
But surely an ideal systematisation of knowledge, though it
might abstract from the path of discovery, would have in
some way or other to exhibit the grounds of certainty.
I conclude then that the conception of essence stands in
an interesting relation to that of the organic universal.
Under the abstract concept all the constituent elements
may be regarded as essential and as equally essential, but
the essence as a whole becomes identical with the concept
itself. Among the elements the only possible distinction
is one of value. And as this may vary according to our
point of view any element may become essential or un-
essential as the case may be. But under the organic
universal the generic essence is necessarily the identical
element as distinct from the modifications which it receives.
SOME PKOBLEMS OF CONCEPTION. 163
These modifications could not be turned into the central
point, but are naturally of a secondary order. In some degree
they may be referable to the essence as such, and so far as
this is the case we get a detachable and self-centred field of
knowledge. 1 But in the main they with their various
properties are the effects of interaction. Each essence is,
so to say, a centre of force, but the phenomena are mainly
visible in the field between the centres.
The distinction, then, of the two species of the Universal
is no less important for knowledge in general than for the
theory of the concept in particular. Disjunctive classifica-
tion and syllogistic deduction are associated with the one,
while the other stands in close relation to ' Natural ' Classi-
fications and the concrete methods of artistic presentation.
And we have now seen that the conception of Essence with
its historical associations which threatens to disappear under
the one regime has an important sphere of influence under
the other. Further problems arising in relation to the dis-
tinction must be excluded from the scope of the present
paper.
1 If any property is referable to the essence strictly as such, i.e. with no
further condition, there could be no real reason for excluding it from the
essence. Hence, apart from the idea of value the distinction of essence
and property would vanish. Thus there appear to be two cases in which
the term essence has real meaning: (1) when it is the generic principle
opposed to specific modifications, and (2) when it is the substantial
character, opposed to varying states, a case which does not concern this
paper. We should hardly allow, as a third case, the structural principle
of a totality as distinguished from the elements of which it is composed.
For either elements and principle imply one another, in which case both
are of the essence ; or they do not, and then we have one or other of the
former cases. Or the distinction is purely one of value.
II. HEGEL'S TREATMENT OF THE CATE-
GORIES OF THE SUBJECTIVE NOTION. 1 (I.)
BY J. ELLIS MCTAGGAET.
THB object of this paper is to consider that part of the
dialectic process which Hegel calls the Subjective Notion.
The views which I shall put before you are, I believe, sub-
stantially the same as those of Hegel, except on a few
special points, which I shall notice as I come to them. 2
But the question which I wish to raise is not whether
they are a faithful representation of Hegel, but whether
they are intrinsically true. To discuss the former would
be a comparatively unprofitable task, for many of the
transitions from category to category are left by Hegel
in almost hopeless obscurity. This is, I think, to be mainly
attributed to two causes. The first is the excessive conden-
sation especially of the Smaller Logic which at places gives
room for little more than the mere naming of the categories,
without any attempt to deduce them. This is specially
noticeable in the Subjective Notion, from the great extent
to which it is subdivided. The second cause is to be found
in Hegel's tendency to let the polemic side of the dialectic
sink out of notice. He was much more inclined to show that
the higher category is suggested by the lower than to point
out that the lower is contradictory without the higher.
Unless this too is demonstrated, however, the dialectic
loses all its cogency. And how it is to be demonstrated, in
certain cases, Hegel leaves us to discover for ourselves,
almost unaided.
Our best course will thus be to attack Hegel's problem,
aiding ourselves by his treatment of it, but not confining
ourselves to his arguments. What, then, is the problem of
the Subjective Notion ?
The Subjective Notion forms, in the first place, the first
1 Bead before the Aristotelian Society.
2 The notes in which I defended my divergence on these points are
here omitted for want of space.
HEGEL'S TREATMENT OF THE SUBJECTIVE NOTION. 165
division of the Doctrine of the Notion, which is the last of
the three parts into which the logic is divided. The last
category preceding it is Reciprocity. This, for the purpose
of our present paper, we must assume to be valid, and it
will form the postulate from which our arguments must
start. Reciprocity is the last category of Actuality, the final
division of the Doctrine of Essence. 1
Since our argument is to start from the admission that
Reciprocity is valid, we must begin by defining the sig-
nificance of this category. By asserting the validity of
Reciprocity, Hegel means, in the first place, that every-
thing is so connected with other things, that the existence
and nature of the one is dependent on the existence and
nature of the other, and vice versa. Secondly, everything
in the universe is connected in this way, directly or in-
directly, with everything else, so that the universe forms a
connected whole. And, thirdly, the whole nature of every-
thing consists of nothing else but these relations of reciprocal
dependence with other things.
Starting with this, we have to reach the highest stage of
the Subjective Notion that to which Hegel gives the name
of the Disjunctive Syllogism. We may provisionally define
this category as asserting that the nature of everything is
determined by a hierarchy of general laws, which are them-
selves ultimate and cannot be reduced to anything else.
These laws form a series, the lower subordinated to the
higher, such that the highest law embraces the whole extent
of reality, while the lowest completely define the nature of
the objects to which they apply.
We may therefore say that the advance made by the
dialectic in the Subjective Notion is from the idea of
complete determination in general, to the idea of complete
determination by a symmetrical structure of general laws.
We are apt to confuse these two ideas in general language,
but they are in fact distinct. The admission that A is always
determined by something outside itself does not assert that
determination is by general laws. It still leaves the possi-
bility open that each determination is unique and individual,
and that the supposed existence of general laws is due to a
mistake in our observation of the facts. If the dialectic
succeeds in proving that determination does involve general
laws it will therefore have made a real advance.
The Subjective Notion is divided with a greater minute-
1 This applies to the Smaller Logic. In the Greater Logic the arrange-
ment is rather different, but the difference is here unimportant.
166 J. ELLIS MCTAGGART :
ness than can be found in any other part of the Logic. It
is, in the first place, divided into three stages, entitled by
Hegel the Notion as Such, the Judgment, and the Syllogism.
The Notion as Such is subdivided into the Universal, the
Particular, and the Individual. The Judgment has four sub-
divisions Judgment of Existence, of Keflexion, of Neces-
sity, and of the Notion. Syllogism, again, is subdivided into
Syllogisms of Existence, of Reflexion, and of Necessity.
Each of the subdivisions of Judgment and Syllogism is again
divided into three yet more minute stages. One or two of
these divisions I shall venture to suggest ought to be dis-
carded as superfluous or worse, but even then this part of
the dialectic will remain exceptionally elaborate.
What is the significance of these names ? They seem at
first sight to mean that this part of the dialectic deals only
with the workings of our minds, and not with all reality.
This might account, it would appear, for its being called Sub-
jective, and for the choice of such names as Judgment and
Syllogism for its divisions.
But such a use of Subjective would not be Hegelian. For
him Subjective does not mean the inner as opposed to the
outer. It means rather the particular, contingent, and
capricious, as opposed to the universal, necessary, and
reasonable. 1 And thus our hypothesis would fail to explain
the choice of Subjective as the title of the division.
Moreover, our hypothesis is untenable. For on examining
the categories which have the titles of Notion as Such,
Judgment and Syllogism, it becomes evident that, in spite
of their names, they do not apply only to the states of our
mind, but to all reality. They grow, by the dialectic pro-
cess, out of the categories of Essence, and the categories of
the Objective Notion, in turn, grow out of them. There is
no doubt that the categories of Essence and of the Objective
Notion refer to all reality, and so, therefore, must the cate-
gories of the Subjective Notion. Otherwise they could never
solve the contradictions which arise in Essence, nor, from
their contradictions, could we be entitled to proceed to the
Objective Notion.
Hegel's own language, too, renders it clear that these
categories are meant to apply to all reality. He says, for
1 The only case, so far as I know, in which Hegel uses Subjective in
any other way, is in the Greater Logic, when he calls the doctrines of
Being and Essence by the name of Objective, and the doctrine of the
Notion by the name of Subjective. But this is not repeated in the
Smaller Logic, and he says that he considers this use of the names as
unsatisfactory, though usual. Cf. Werke, iii., p. 51.
HEGEL'S TREATMENT OF THE SUBJECTIVE NOTION. 167
example, "all things are a categorical judgment"; 1 and
again, "everything is a syllogism ". 2
We must look, then, for another explanation of the ter-
minology. We can find it, I think, in the connexion of this
part of the dialectic with formal logic. Formal logic, of
course, owes its existence to abstraction. When we take its
standpoint we make abstraction of all but certain qualities
of reality. Now these qualities, we shall find, are those
which are demonstrated as valid at that part of the dialectic
which we are considering in this paper, so that at this
stage, and not before, formal logic could be metaphysically
justified.
We find that formal logic assumes that we have the
power of ascribing general notions as predicates to subjects,
and in this way arriving at truth with regard to those sub-
jects. And it also assumes that we are in possession, in
some manner or the other, of various general truths, such as
are expressed in the statements All A is B, No A is C.
On the other hand, we find that there are other charac-
teristics of reality of which formal logic takes no account.
It makes no distinction between trivial and important pro-
positions. " No man is wholly evil," and " no man has
green hair," are assertions which are for formal logic of pre-
cisely the same rank. And, in the second place, it does not
inquire how, in the first instance, w r e ever came to know the
truth of any proposition. It always assumes that something
is known, as a datum, and only occupies itself with consider-
ing how other knowledge can be deduced from this.
Now we shall see that the Subjective Notion of the dia-
lectic begins with the idea of universal notions, and that it
soon is led on to the further idea of the existence of valid
generalisations the two assumptions of formal logic. And
we shall also see that the characteristic defects of the Sub-
jective Notion are the inability to give any account of the
existence of these generalisations which shall be free from
contradiction, and the inability to distinguish between the
relative importance of such generalisations. These defects
are not overcome till we reach the Syllogism of Necessity,
which is the last stage in the Subjective Notion, and forms
the transition to a higher idea.
This will enable us to explain why the divisions of the
Subjective Notion draw their names from formal logic. It
is not that these categories apply only to the subject-matter
of formal logic, but that the procedure of formal logic is
1 Enc., Section 177. Lecture Note. - Ibid., Section 181.
168 J. ELLIS MCTAGGART :
such that it makes especial use of these categories, which are
therefore named from the subject-matter on which they are
most often employed.
Analogies to this may be found in the Objective Notion.
Two of the divisions are here named Mechanism and
Chemism. It is clear, however, that these categories are
not meant to apply solely in the ordinary sciences of
Mechanics and Chemistry. They are ideas applicable to all
reality, but the most striking instances of their use can be
found in those sciences, from which, therefore, they take
their names.
It must be admitted that this principle of nomenclature is
not only perplexing to the reader, but in some cases mislead-
ing to the author. In dealing with the categories of Judg-
ment and Syllogism, Hegel seems at several points to be led
into unnecessary complexity by the desire of carrying the
analogy with formal logic as far as possible. But to this
question we shall return.
We can now understand, too, why the whole section is
called Subjective. It is called Subjective because it is con-
tingent, and its contingency is the same which we find in
formal logic that the principle of classifying which is
adopted is entirely indifferent. For formal logic all uni-
versals are of the same importance, and it sees no difference
between a classification which, e.g., classes pictures by their
painters, and one which classes them by the size of their
frames. From this contingency we do not begin to escape
till we reach the Syllogism of Necessity.
THE NOTION AS SUCH.
THE UNIVERSAL NOTION AS SUCH.
The last point which Hegel reaches, before the Subjective
Notion, is, as I have said, the category of Reciprocity. For
the purpose of this paper we must assume the validity of
Reciprocity, and we have now to consider the transition
from this to the first stage of the Subjective Notion. This
is the Notion as Such, which appears first in the form of the
Universal Notion.
With regard to this transition we must notice, in the first
place, that we have here attained to the idea of completely
necessary determination. In Causality, while the effect is
determined, the cause is free, and, however far we may push
back the chain of causation, the last link to which we have
at any moment attained will be a cause only, and not an
HEGEL'S TREATMENT OF THE SUBJECTIVE NOTION. 169
effect. But in Reciprocity the cause is the effect of its own
effect, and the necessary determination is complete.
To say that it is in this necessity that we first reach
freedom can only appear a paradox till it is examined. We
must remember that for Hegel freedom never means the
power to act without motives, or with an umnotived choice
of motives. For him freedom always means absence of
external restraint. That is free which is what its own
nature prompts it to be, however little choice it may have
had about the matter.
If we say, then, that a thing is deficient in freedom, we
must mean that, while its inner nature, if unthwarted, would
lead it to be A B C, it is compelled by external influences to
be A B D instead. Now this appeared possible in the cate-
gories of Essence. For there we conceived everything as
having an inner nature, which was connected indeed with its
external relations, but was not identical with them, which
could be either in or out of harmony with them, and, in the
latter case, would be constrained. But by the time we have
reached Eeciprocity we see that this is a mistake. The
thing has no nature at all, except as it is determined by, and
in turn determines, other things. These external determina-
tions are its inner nature. And thus it reaches freedom. If
it has no inner nature but its external determinations, it is
clear that its external determinations can never make it do
anything against its inner nature. This is indeed only a
negative freedom. But any more positive freedom requires
higher categories than we have yet reached. In necessity
we have gained all the freedom which is possible until the
idea of End has been developed.
This point is so important that, to prevent ambiguity, it
may be well to anticipate some considerations which belong
more properly to the Objective Notion and to the Idea.
Directly we introduce the ideas of End, of Life, or of Self-
consciousness, we begin to distinguish between a free and a
constrained state, even while we recognise that both states
were equally determined from outside. We talk of a healthy
tree as developing freely, in opposition to one which is struck
by lightning or withered by drought. And yet it is as com-
pletely determined by external circumstances in the one case
as it is in the other. A man feels himself free if he can do
what he wants, and feels himself constrained if he cannot.
And yet his desire and its gratification are as completely
determined in the one case as his desire and its disappoint-
ment are in the other.
This, however, does not contradict our previous result.
170 J. ELLIS MCTAGGART :
We removed the idea of constraint, when we reached the
category of Reciprocity, by removing the idea of an inner
nature as distinct from external relations. But, by the time
that we have reached the category of End, the idea of an
inner nature has come back again, though in a different and
higher form. It is not now conceived, as it was in Essence,
as something existing side by side with the external relations,
connected with them, but distinct from them. It now takes
the form of a Purpose or Ideal, which we conceive should be
or ought to be realised by means of the external relations.
It is clear that the possibility of conflict and constraint
has returned here, though in a different form. It is not
now, as before, a conflict between two existent factors or
elements of the thing's existence. It is now a conflict
between that which is and that which ought to be, but is
not. When such a conflict exists, we call the thing con-
strained. When the real and the ideal harmonise, we call
it free.
This reaches its most striking form when we come to a
self-conscious individual, who is conscious (in a more or less
adequate form) of his ideal, and who pronounces himself free
or constrained in proportion as he has or has not realised it.
He is thus able to pass judgments of moral condemnation on
that very system of complete determination of which his
judgments of condemnation are themselves a part.
This conflict will require a deeper reconciliation than the
one which proved effectual in Reciprocity. It cannot be
brought about, as before, by reducing the inner nature to
another name for the outside circumstances. For, although
a separate inner nature, as Essence, was a delusion, a
separate inner nature, as Ideal, is a reality. And, therefore,
the reconciliation will have to be reached, not by eliminating
the inner nature, but by demonstrating it to be in harmony
with the external relations.
The freedom which is attained by the establishment of
complete necessity is thus only negative and imperfect
freedom, but it is all that can be obtained at the point of
the dialectic where it is introduced, and it is also all that is
required, since it removes all the constraint which can be
conceived as existing before the introduction of the idea of
End.
We must return from this digression to the question how
we are to proceed from Reciprocity now recognised as
Freedom to the Universal Notion as Such. The Universal
Notion as Such is clearly, w r hatever else it is, a common
quality to be found in two or more things, which are united
HEGEL'S TREATMENT OF THE SUBJECTIVE NOTION. 171
by their participation in it. Things, again, are united by
the reciprocal determinations which we have established
among them. But these are clearly not Universal Notions.
If A is the cause of B, and B the cause of A, they have not
in so far the same quality, though they have closely analo-
gous qualities, and qualities which we are now entitled to
regard as inseparable. The relation of things which have
the same Notion is not that of mutual determination, but of
similarity. Any common quality such as whiteness, square-
ness, sweetness is a Universal Notion. (We are here,
it must be remembered, at the very beginning of the Notion.
In the later categories the meaning of the word becomes
much deeper.)
The category of Reciprocity informed us that all the
qualities of every object could be accounted for by the
mutual determinations which existed between it' and other-
objects. Now of these qualities we knew previously that
every object had some qualities in common with every other,
and that no object had precisely the same qualities as any
other. This was established, early in the Doctrine of
Essence, by the category of Likeness and Unlikeness. It
falls beyond the scope of this paper, but in passing we may
point out that if two objects had no qualities in common,
they could not be counted, or brought into any relation,
which is incompatible with the hypothesis that they were
two, and that they were different. On the other hand, if
two different objects had precisely the same qualities, it
would follow that the difference between them could only
be in their essence. But this difference in their essence
would, on the hypothesis, have no effect on their appear-
ance, which obviously destroys all meaning in the terms
essence and appearance. From Likeness and Unlikeness to
Eeciprocity there are many categories, but none of them
transcend this particular characteristic of the former. And
so we reach our present point in the dialectic with the
conclusion that the various qualities in the reciprocally
determined things must be such that no thing is entirely
like or entirely unlike any other thing.
The result is that things are doubly connected by
similarity and by causation. And it is obvious that a thing
may be, and generally is, connected by the one tie to things
very different to those to which it is connected by the other.
A sparrow in England resembles very closely a sparrow in
Australia, though the influence exerted by one on the other
may be as slight as can possibly exist between any two beings
on the same planet. On the other hand the English sparrow's
172 J. ELLIS MCTAGGABT :
state is largely determined by his relations positive and?
negative to worms and to cats, although their resemblance-
to him is not close.
Both these connexions have to be worked out further.
This the dialectic proceeds to do. It first takes up the
relation of similarity, and works it out through the course of
the Subjective Notion. Then, in the Objective Notion, it
proceeds to work out the relation of determination not
going back arbitrarily to pick it up, but led on to it again by
dialectical necessity, since the Subjective Notion, when fully
worked out, shows itself to have a defect which can only
be remedied by the further development of the idea of
determination. Finally, the two are united in the synthesis
which Hegel calls the Idea.
I am aware that this is not the way in which Hegel
himself makes the transition. 1 But it seems to me to be a
valid way of making it, and I cannot see any other. It
may, however, possibly be objected that, whether this result
be true or not, it breaks down all dialectic process, in the
sense in which dialectic is understood by Hegel. The
dialectic is unquestionably continuous. Each result must
come from the one before it. And here, the critic might say,
we have dropped the result gained in Reciprocity, put it aside
till we come to the Objective Notion, and, in order to get
started in the Subjective Notion, gone back to a result which
had been gained at the very beginning of the Doctrine of
Essence.
This, however, is a mistake. For if, in one sense, we
start here with the idea gained in Likeness and Unlikeness,.
that idea has been transformed, or we could not start with
it. And it only can be transformed by the application of the
conception of complete determination, which came for the first
time with the category of Reciprocity. Thus both accusations
of want of continuity are answered. We have not gone back
to take up a long past result, but are taking it the moment
it becomes available for our purpose. We have not dropped
our result last obtained, since it is through this alone that
the previous conclusions have enabled us to take the next
step.
The fact that, at the beginning of the Objective Notion, the
idea of reciprocal determination comes again into prominence,
is by no means unsuited to the dialectic process. We have
seen that, in the synthesis of Reciprocity, the two sides of
qualities similar and dissimilar, and of reciprocal deter-
1 See Note A.
HEGEL'S TREATMENT OF THE SUBJECTIVE NOTION. 173
urinations are balanced. We might then expect exactly
what happens that in the following triad one of these two
sides is developed in the thesis, and that this, being imperfect
and contradictory when taken by itself, requires the further
development of the other side in the antithesis. (The Sub-
jective Notion is, of course, the thesis, and the Objective
Notion the antithesis, in the Doctrine of the Notion.)
The reason that the Universal Notion as such can be
introduced here and not before is as follows. In Likeness
and Unlikeness we found that it might be said of everything
that it was like everything else in some respects and unlike
it in others. But what we did not say there was that by
these likenesses and unlikenesses its whole nature could be
expressed. For in that category one of the earliest in the
Doctrine of Essence the distinction between essence and
appearance was not removed. And these distinctions of
similarity and dissimilarity, like all other relations, belonged
to appearance only. Behind them was the essence, a Ding
an sich, which was neither like or unlike anything else, but
entered into no relations at all.
Now the conception of the Notion as such is that the
whole nature of things can be expressed by means of general
qualities. And this cannot be the case so long as the
qualities are looked on as mere appearances, dependent on an
essence whose nature they do not express. It is for this
reason that Hegel does not speak of Universals till we reach
the Doctrine of the Notion. Before that things were seen to
have common qualities, but this was only an external, though
necessary characteristic, not the expression of the thing's
own nature. Now, however, this is changed. We saw in
Reciprocity that a thing has no inner nature, except its
outside nature, which had been previously determined to
consist of general qualities. If this result is itself imperfect,
and some sort of inner nature will have eventually to be
admitted, yet as against the mere Ding an sich of the
Doctrine of Essence the result is final and conclusive. And
so we come to the conclusion that we can know a thing
thoroughly by predicating a sufficient number of qualities
of it which is the assumption of formal logic.
The transition may then be summed as follows the
whole nature of everything consists in its qualities, by which
it stands in reciprocal determination with everything else.
And as everything has some qualities in common with every-
thing else, the nature of everything may always be expressed
in part by pointing out some common quality, which it shares
with something else. This common quality, now that it is
174 .1. ELLIS MCTAGGAET :
realised to be the real nature of the thing, and not merely an
external appendage, is the Universal Notion as Such.
THE PABTICULAE NOTION AS SUCH.
It is, however, obvious, that this is only one side of the
truth. If we found that everything must have some
quality in common with everything else, we also found that
no two things could have exactly the same qualities. And
so, if we express the nature of A and B, in part, by pointing
out that they have the common quality X, we are able to
assert that it must also be the case that A possesses some
quality M, not shared by B, and that B possesses some
quality N, not shared by A. These qualities which distinguish
the two things united in their possession of X, are what
Hegel calls Particular Notions as Such.
We see from this that no Notions are in themselves (at
this stage) either Universal or Particular. The qualities M
will be shared by A with other things, for example, C and
D, and could have been made a Universal, with X under it
as a Particular. For example, if we decide to classify a
gallery of pictures by their painters, we may bring two
pictures together as both painted by Raphael. They may be
distinguished from one another, again, by one having a good
frame and the other a bad one. Here "painted by Raphael"
is the Universal, "having a good frame," and "having a bad
frame," are the Particulars. But it would be possible, from
caprice, or in preparing instructions for a frame-maker, to
class pictures primarily by the condition of their frames.
The first Raphael might then find itself separated from its
companion and classed with a Velasquez. The Universal
would here be "having a good frame," and the Particulars
" painted by Raphael," and " painted by Velasquez ".
This brings out the contingency which earns this part of
the dialectic the name of Subjective. According to this
category, any one classification, of the innumerable classi-
fications possible, is as good as another. Any two things
can be brought into the same class for no two things are
destitute of some common quality. Any two things can be
separated for no two things are without some difference in
their qualities. There is no distinction made here between
a classification based on deep and permanent similarities,
and one based on trivial and temporary similarities. There
is no criterion even of the fitness or unfitness of the classi-
fication for any special purpose we may have in hand. Our
choice of a Universal must be purely capricious.
HEG-EL'S TREATMENT OF THE SUBJECTIVE NOTION. 175
Another way in which the classification is contingent is
the relation of the Particulars to the Universal, when the
latter is determined. Any difference which will divide the
Individuals brought under the Universal is sufficient. No
account is taken of whether it is a difference specially con-
nected with that Universal. For example, in the first case
above, the distinction of good and bad frames is not a
speciality of Raphael's pictures, but may be found among
the pictures of all painters. Nor do we inquire whether
between them the Particulars exhaust all possible cases of
the Universal. For although the two Eaphaels which we
supposed under discussion were sufficiently discriminated by
their good and bad frames, it would be possible for a,
Raphael to exist without a frame at all.
THE INDIVIDUAL NOTION AS SUCH.
This is the synthesis of the Universal and the Particular..
The transition is a simple one, and as often happens in
the Doctrine of the Notion, has almost intruded itself when
we were considering the thesis and antithesis. We have
seen, on the one hand, that the Universal has no meaning
without Particulars. For, if the various things to which the
Universal is common were not discriminated, they would be
only one thing ; and if the Universal were only in one thing,
it would cease to be a Universal. On the other hand, we
have seen that the Particulars have no meaning without the
Universal, since they are not Particulars except in so far as
they are subordinated to a Universal. And thus the reality
of each thing is only expressible by such a combination of
Notions as at once unites it with and separates it from
everything else.
THE JUDGMENT.
JUDGMENT OF INHERENCE.
Positive Judgment,
This first and simplest form of the Judgment relates itself
to the last form of the Notion as Such, not as an advance,
but as a mere restatement. This is, of course, the typical
and customary relation between a synthesis and the thesis
of the next triad. The reality of a thing, we have seen, was
expressible only by a combination of Notions. It must
therefore be possible to assert some relation between the-.
176 J. ELLIS MCTAGGAET :
thing and each of its Universals. And this is what we do
in Judgment. The question of how a thing and a Universal
can be connected with one another, which was implicit in
the Notion, becomes explicit in Judgment.
This problem, to begin with, takes the form of starting
from the thing, and endeavouring to adjust a Universal to
it. This is called a Judgment of Inherence, as distin-
guished from a Judgment of Subsumption, in which we start
with the Universal and endeavour to connect the thing with
it. 1 (From this point onwards the thing defined by. the
Universal gets a special name, and is called the Individual.)
That Judgment should commence as Judgment of Inherence
is due to the form in which it receives the problem. Ever
since the Thing first received some degree of definiteness,
early in the Doctrine of Essence, the problem has been to
define and explain it. And so we start here with the Indi-
vidual as the datum, to which the Universal has to be
related. The only relation we have had so far between the
thing and its Universal has been an affirmative one, and so
we start with a positive Judgment of Inherence I is U.
The Particular has fallen out here, because, as we have
seen, a Particular is only a Universal which has been sub-
ordinated to another Universal. When, as in the Judgment
of Inherence, we are considering only one Universal at a
time, there can be no Particular. (Of course Universal and
Particular Notions which may be terms in Judgments
must be carefully distinguished from Universal and Par-
ticular Judgments, which we shall find among Judgments of
Subsumption.)
In formal logic two other varieties of Judgment are pos-
sible. I is I e.g., " Beaconsfield is Disraeli " ; and U is U
e.g., " Man is mortal ". But the first of these would be no
help to us here, since it would not help us to develop the
nature of the Individual, and the second we have as yet
no right to use, until we have established the validity of
general propositions.
The I here must be taken strictly as a mere Individual,
not as yet qualified by a Universal. We must not say, for
example, " This rose is red," but simply " This is red ". We
may, indeed, say " this rose," as Hegel does, to avoid the
ambiguities which arise from the use of the simple demon-
strative in writing, but we must consider the subject indicated
1 The names which Hegel gives to these two divisions are Qualitative
Judgment and Judgment of Reflexion. I have ventured to change them
for the more significant titles which he suggests in the Greater Logic
(W&rke, v., p. 94).
HEGEL'S TREATMENT OF THE SUBJECTIVE NOTION. 177
as a mere individual, and so not yet explicitly qualified by
the Universal of being a rose. For this would be to beg the
whole question of Judgment, i.e., how can an Individual
be qualified by a Universal?
Negative Judgment.
How, we must now inquire, does this Positive Judgment
break down, and compel us to continue the dialectic pro-
cess ? Hegel says that all statements of the form I is U are
necessarily false. If, for example, we point to a rose and say
" This is red," there is a double falsity. Bed is not identical
with the rose at which we point, for, in the first place, there
are many other red things in the world besides this rose.
And, in the second place, it is not identical with it, because
the rose has many other qualities besides redness. Even if
we have not identified it as a rose, but merely point to it, we
shall know that it must have other qualities besides the red-
ness, though we do not know what. An object could not
exist with only one quality, for then it could in no way
be distinguished from other objects which it in any way
resembled.
It seems at first sight as if this was a mere quibble. " Of
course," it might be answered, " no one supposed that the is
here was to be taken in the sense of absolute equivalence,
as when we say the sum of three and two is five. A change
of language will remove the difficulty. Say that the subject
has redness, or the quality of being red, and the criticism
ceases to have any force." But the defect is in reality too
deeply rooted to be removed in this simple fashion.
Some relation between the Individual and Universal must
be found. Identity is obviously impossible. If the Universal
was identical with the Individual, it could apply to no other
Individuals but that one. That Individual would therefore
not be connected by it with anything else, and therefore the
Individual, since all connexion by Universals would be im-
possible to it, would be absolutely isolated, with no resem-
blance to anything else in the universe. Now, this state of
isolation we have already seen to be impossible.
Can we then say that the Individual has the Universal ?
We have already used this method of relation in the Doctrine
of Essence. There we were able to say that the Thing
had its Properties. 1 But a difficulty has arisen since then.
1 Hegel has appropriated almost every possible word expressive of
reality as the name of some category. Among these " Thing " designates
12
178 J. ELLIS MCTAGGART :
Before anything can be said to have something else, it must
itself be determined as being. Till it is real it cannot
possess anything. And so if we are to say I has U, we must
assign some reality to I other than U. Now, in the category
of Thing and Properties this was possible. For the Thing was
still conceived as an Essence to which the Properties were
attached as appearance, but which had a reality in some
way distinguishable from them. This distinction of Essence
and Appearance, however, disappeared as we were dealing
with Reciprocity. Our Individual is completely expressed
by its Universals. It has nothing else in it. Where, then,
are we to get the reality of which we can say that it has the
Universal ?
(We may notice in passing that, in the Doctrine of Being,
things were their qualities, in the sense that the two were un-
distinguishable. In Essence they had their qualities. Now,
at the beginning of the Notion we find both terms in-
applicable, and must wait for a deeper category which will
allow them both to be true.)
It is true that, although the Individual is completely
expressed by Universals, it is never completely expressed by
one Universal. Can we hope to find, in those Universals
which we are not at that moment expressly predicating of
the Individual, a reality which can be said to have the Uni-
versal which we are then expressly affirming?
Let the Individual before us, for example, be red, sweet,
perishable, and beautiful. The Universal which we wish to
predicate of it is red. W T e have seen that we may not say
" This is red". Can we put, by means of the other Universals,
sufficient meaning into the This to be able to say " This has
redness"? Let us try to do so by considering the This as
qualified by one more Universal for example, sweet. We
are then in a dilemma. Either we say, when we undertake
to define the Individual which is to have the redness, " This is
sweet," or " This has sweetness ". The first we have already
admitted we have no right to say. The second we can only
say if the This which has sweetness is previously deter-
mined. And in this way we should be committed to an
Infinite Regress before we should be able to determine the
Individual.
a particular category in Essence. I have found it impossible to dispense
with the use of " thing " in a more general sense, as indicating a centre
of reality without regard to the particular category under which we may
be contemplating it. I have therefore endeavoured to avoid ambiguity
by always using a capital letter when referring to Hegel's category of
Thing.
HEGEL'S TREATMENT OF THE SUBJECTIVE NOTION. 179
It may be objected that, although the additional Universal
is not sufficient to constitute an Individual capable of having
a Universal, yet that we should reach a sufficient degree of
substantiality in the Individual if we regarded it as the
meeting point of an indefinite number of other Universals
which it certainly is. Will not the fact that they all meet
in that point give the point sufficient unity for us to be able
to assert of each of them in turn that the Individual has
that Universal? This looks plausible. For when we have
reached to Judgments of Subsumption, and regard each
Universal as having a different field of denotation, then, the
more separate Universals you predicate of any Individual, the
more completely do you define it and mark it off from all
others. But we have not reached that point here. We are
only dealing with Judgments of Inherence. We know
nothing of fields of denotation. We have only the single
Individual, and we have to relate the Universals to it, with-
out taking any other Individuals into account.
And, therefore, at the present stage of the dialectic, to pre-
dicate overlapping Universals of the same Individual does
not remove the contradiction, but only aggravates it. If we
say " This is sweet and beautiful," we have a double absurdity
instead of a single one. We cannot identify This with
either sweet or beautiful, since they are Universals, and This
is an Individual. And even if we could identify it with
either, we certainly could not identify it with both, since
they are not identical with one another, and it is quite pos-
sible to be sweet without being beautiful, or beautiful with-
out being sweet.
To sum up, then, it appears impossible to affirm a
Universal of an isolated Individual. If we say that the
Individual has it, we are compelled to assert that the Indi-
vidual is some other Universal. And by the very fact that
one is an Individual and the other a Universal, we know
that they cannot be identical. The only case where is can
in this sense connect subject and predicate is the Identical
Judgment A is A. Even formal logic recognises this as-
the reductio ad absurdum of Judgment, and here, where it is
essential that the predicate shall be a Universal, it is still
more obvious that it is useless.
There seems, however, to be a refuge open to us. Our
Positive Judgments have broken down because the subject
and the predicate could not be made to coincide. Now, in
a Negative Judgment the assertion is precisely that they do
not coincide. We reach here, then, the Negative Judg-
ment.
180 J. ELLIS MCTAGGAET :
Transition to Subsumption. 1
The Negative Judgment, however, cannot help us. We
have adopted it as an escape from the Positive, and it will
not work without the Positive. Of every Individual there is
no doubt that many Universals can be denied. Otherwise, if
all Universals could be affirmed of all Individuals, the Indi-
viduals would not be in the least unlike one another, which
we have seen to be impossible. But, on the other hand, if
all Universals could be denied of any Individual, that Indi-
vidual would be completely dissimilar to every other Indi-
vidual, which we have also seen to be impossible. Negative
Judgments cannot exist without Positive, and cannot, there-
fore, take their place.
As Hegel points out, all the interest of a Judgment which
denies a Universal, A, of an Individual, is dependent on a
wider Judgment which affirms of the Individual some
Universal, B, which is compatible with A. Thus the pro-
position " The elephant is not carnivorous " is interesting
because the elephant is a mammal, and some mammals are
carnivorous. The proposition " The oak is not carnivorous "
is less interesting, and still less interesting, though equally
true, is the proposition " The moral ideal is not carnivorous ".
Hegel, however, seems to me to weaken his case by saying
that such propositions as these his example is " The mind
is no elephant " are examples of the Infinite Judgment, " in
which we are presented with the total incompatibility of the
subject and the predicate ". 2 For in that case true, though
trivial, Negative Judgments could exist independently of
Positive Judgments. But no proposition can be a completely
Infinite Judgment, since that would imply that there was no
Universal in common between the Individual who is the
subject of the Judgment, and those Individuals of whom the
predicate could be affirmed. And this is an impossible
supposition, for, as we have seen, nothing can be completely
dissimilar to anything else. In Hegel's example, a mind
resembles an elephant though not closely. For example,
they both exist in time.
As no Negative Judgment, except an Infinite Judgment,
1 My difference from Hegel at this point I believe to be little more
than verbal (see Note B). It has compelled me, however, to find
a new name for the Synthesis. As this synthesis states, in a general
form, the idea worked out in the next triad, I have called it " Transition
to Subsumption " upon the analogy of the " Transition to Essence " in
the Greater Logic (Werke, iii., p. 466).
2 Enc., section 173.
HEGEL'S TREATMENT OP THE SUBJECTIVE NOTION. 181
can be independent of Positive Judgments, and as an Infinite
Judgment is impossible, we shall be compelled, if we have
Judgments of Inherence at all, to have Positive Judgments
among others. But Positive Judgments of Inherence we
have seen to be impossible. We must therefore discover, if
possible, some higher standpoint which will deliver us from
Judgments of Inherence altogether.
Our difficulty has arisen from the inevitable incompati-
bility of the Subject and Predicate in Judgments of Inherence.
How can this be changed ? Obviously the predicate must
remain a Universal. For if riot, it could never connect the
subject with anything else, and so could never assist in
determining it. It is not, however, inevitable that the
subject must be one Individual. It is possible that a predicate
should be asserted of more than one Individual at once,
whether these are simply enumerated, or denned by means
of a second Universal. We must avail ourselves of this,
therefore, and endeavour to determine some form of subject
which is compatible with a Universal for a predicate.
This will introduce, for the first time, the conception of
Quantity in Judgments. In Judgments of Inherence, the
quantity is always Singular, or rather the distinction of
Singular, Particular, and Universal is unknown. (Particular
and Universal Judgments must not, of course, be confused
with Particular and Universal Notions in Judgments. Thus
Some men are good is a Particular Judgment with two
Universal Notions in it.) But now we are going to take as
oar subject a varying number of Individuals, and the dis-
tinctions of quantity will consequently arise.
Another result of the advance is that the fixed point, if we
may so call it, in the Judgment has been changed. In the
Judgment of Inherence the subject was the datum and the
problem was to provide it with a predicate. Here, on the
contrary, the predicate is the datum. We have to find a
subject to which it will apply. Instead of saying that a
certain predicate is one of those which belong to a given
subject, we say that a certain subject is one of those which
possesses a given predicate. It is for this reason because
these Judgments are best expressed as bringing their subjects
under their predicates that they are called Judgments of
Subsumption.
III. THE FUNCTION OF RELIGIOUS
EXPRESSION.
BY HENRY EUTGEBS MARSHALL.
1. In the article that has preceded this, as the reader
will remember, we found ourselves led to the conclusion
that there are many influences in our complex social life
which, if unrestrained, tend to produce an over-emphasis of
variance from typical forms of action, and to subvert the
order of instinct efficiency which has been formed in us and
which we judge must be of value to our race in its struggle
for supremacy. This suggested to us that there might
be developed within us a governing instinct functioinng to
prevent this over-emphasis and this subversion, and led us
to look for some signs of the existence of such a governing
instinct.
In the very beginning of this search the fact was forced
upon us that some of the most characteristic activities con-
nected with the expression of our religious feelings must
tend to produce the very results that our governing instinct
if existent would itself tend to produce. This in turn led us
to ask whether religious activities are to be classed as in-
stinctive ; and finding evidence that they must probably be
so classed and remembering that all instincts have biological
functions, the hypothesis naturally suggested itself that the
function of the activities expressive of the religious instinct
is to emphasise within us instinct in general and to sub-
ordinate variance ; to strengthen the instincts of wider im-
port and to subordinate those that are less wide in their
influence although occasionally more powerfully developed ;
to establish a certain order of impulse efficiency which if
effective will bring those instincts that are of individualistic
import into subjection, under certain conditions, to those
that function in relation to the persistence of the species ;
and to bring both of these classes of instincts, in general,
into subjection to the instincts that have social import.
This hypothesis must be judged by a study of the effects
THE FUNCTION OF EELIGIOUS EXPBESSION. 183
produced by the very varied expressions of religious feeling.
Such a study I could not attempt to make in a single article,
even in outline, were it not that the many forms of religious
expression naturally fall into a few groups which we may
find space to consider briefly.
I shall attempt in the case of each group to show that the
persistence of these special activities cannot be explained on
the ground that they either appear to be or are in fact of
individualistic advantage, nor on the ground that they tend
to advantage in relation to the processes governing the re-
production of kind.
On the other hand I think it will appear that they do serve
to emphasise the order of impulse efficiency already referred
to, bringing into prominence the social impulses and tending
thus to produce persistence of the higher social types. We
are able then to account for their persistence in our race ; for,
as we have seen, it is advantageous to us to emphasise the
social instincts which make possible the existence of these
social types ; for these social instincts could not have arisen
in us unless the actions they induce were of advantage,
indirectly at least, in the maintenance of the life of the indi-
viduals and species in which they appear.
2. It will serve our purpose best at the start to say a
few words concerning the form in which this emphasis of the
later formed instincts would present itself to consciousness.
If the argument which has preceded this be correct, if the
later formed instincts relating to social life are effective
rather through the wide general trend of the activities they
induce than through the forcefulness or quickness of reaction
to the stimuli which call them out, then it seems clear that
they will not be likely to force themselves upon our atten-
tion as the impulses of individualistic significance, and
those relating to reproduction, will surely do ; for these latter
are called into existence by presentations of forceful nature
and must in a large proportion of cases function promptly
if they are to be of service.
But where, for any reason, stimulation to individualistic
reaction is absent, and where the instincts relating to re-
production are not called out, then the tendency to act in
accord with the trend determined by the social instincts
must necessarily become more prominent and the ethical
impulses must sway our lives.
Now the primitive man in whom these social instincts are
beginning to develop will with difficulty have his attention
turned to the existence of the impulses they determine
184 HENRY RUTGERS MARSHALL:
except under conditions of individualistic restraint which
are foreign to the habits of the savage ; he would therefore
with difficulty recognise them as definite impulses, as dis-
tinct leadings ; and they would be likely first to gain marked
attention if they happened to appear in the form of hal-
lucinations which would startle the one who saw the
hallucinatory vision or heard the hallucinatory voice, and
would gain power with him, and with the neighbours to
whom he told his tale, because of his and their crude
animistic beliefs, which naturally led them to look for the
manifestation of spirit life in all objects around them.
It of course cannot be claimed that all hallucinations
occasion emphasis of the later formed and higher impulses,
for hallucinations are morbid phenomena and naturally
appear persistently in neurotic patients. On the other
hand, however, it is true that a great deal of hallucination
does emphasise in a morbid way the higher impulses and
does produce ethical mania and religious melancholia :
Emerson l went so far indeed as to remark that a ' : certain
tendency to insanity has always attended the opening of the
religious sense of men as if they had been ' blasted with
excess of light ' ".
But all that concerns us here is to note, that the condi-
tions which tend to induce these hallucinatory states are the
very conditions which would restrain all tendency to indi-
vidualistic reaction and would leave opportunity for the less
forceful but broader impulses to assert themselves.
In extreme states of hallucinatory impression the one im-
pressed falls into what we know as the trance state. In
trance states some or all of the senses which bring to us our
knowledge of the outer world are usually benumbed : the
person "stares at vacancy" perhaps, or pays no attention
whatever to his or her surroundings, and in general shows a
total lack of that power to concentrate the attention upon
the outer world at large which is so necessary for the per-
ception of those objective conditions in the environment
which lead to individualistic reactions. The one who per-
ceives the hallucination may indeed fall into a state which is
so morbid as to be indistinguishable from catalepsy.
Where hallucination is not accompanied by such morbid
conditions, we nevertheless have of necessity a repression of
reaction to environmental stimuli, and a concentration of
thought upon states of purely subjective origin ; how else
can we explain the higher emphasis of those subjective
1 Compare his essay " The Over Soul ".
THE FUNCTION OF EELIGIOUS EXPEESSION. 185
states, the deceptive perceptions, which are not stimulated
from without us, and which psychologically speaking make
the essence of the hallucinations we are considering ?
Where the processes, which when carried to extremes
produce hallucinations, are not carried to extremes, mental
states similar to those accompanying hallucination will
obtain ; consequently if any benefit were ever connected
with the attainment of true hallucinations, the same benefit
in less degree would be likely to be gained by the person
who followed the practices which often lead to hallucination,
who even aimed to attain the hallucination, whether he
succeeded or not in his endeavour. What is more, these
closely allied mental states would be closely related by the
one who had once experienced hallucination to his more
startling experience ; so that it appears not at all obscure
why it has become common custom to speak of our con-
sciousness of the pressure of our impulses as though voices
spoke within us, guiding our lives. There is no fiction more
general and none more beautiful than that which tells us of
the "still small voice of conscience". It will be convenient
to use this metaphor from time to time, and I am sure I
shall not be misunderstood in so doing.
It will appear upon examination that the various groups
of religious expression which we shall examine tend to pro-
duce the suppression of individualistic reaction, and lead us
to listen for the guiding voices within us ; and that if carried
to extremes they end often in the production of true halluci-
nations during which the influences from the objective world
are largely cut off and notions of purely subjective origin are
falsely objectified.
Before beginning our study in detail I must speak again
of one point which will apply to all the religious expressions
to be examined. Notwithstanding all that was said in the
last article of this series there is likely to be a confirmed
impression in the minds of some readers that religious
habits are forced upon the race altogether by tradition and
custom ; that we undertake them purely as the result of our
imitative tendencies.
I have already stated why I believe this notion to be with-
out foundation : although it is doubtless true that many of
our religious habits are thus acquired by one generation from
the preceding generation ; still it is to be noted that when
certain fixed habits appear in wide masses of people, and
where they persist for long historic periods, then we are
warranted in the assumption that the tendency to follow the
186 HENBY RUTGERS MARSHALL:
actions of the preceding generation is due to an inborn trend
and capacity, especially if the actions " imitated " appear to
the individual to be disadvantageous to him or to his race,
or are distasteful to him in any degree, directly or indirectly.
In the case of the actions which we are about to study, not
only do we find this persistence in wide groups of men but
we find a common source acknowledged as the basis of the
most varied types of actions ; and we find also, as I hope
to show, a common trend of all to one special biological
benefit, notwithstanding that marked disadvantage appears
at the first glance to be connected with them all.
3. In what I have already written I have given so much
prominence to the religious habits connected with voluntary
seclusion from the stimuli of our complex life, that it is
natural to begin our study with an examination of this form
of religious expression.
It will not require discussion to convince the reader that
seclusion from the exciting stimuli of the world will tend to
reduce those reactions upon our environment which deter-
mine the expression of the individualistic instincts, and that
seclusion will thus give play to the impulses which are of
non-individualistic import.
Seclusion involves a tendency to fixation of thought upon
our inner springs of action, and when carried to extremes
naturally tends to produce hallucination. The experience of
man in the early stages of his development must have led to
the observation that what we call hallucinatory voices or
visions, but which he believed to emanate from higher powers,
were often noticed by men during involuntary seclusion ; the
voice had spoken, the vision had appeared, again and again
to those who were alone in the desert, far removed from the
distractions of normal life. Now to the man of undeveloped
type these voices and visions must have been very impressive.
In times of great danger or perplexity the guidance of these
higher powers, as they were conceived, might be wished for ;
and this might lead some individual to seclude himself
voluntarily because he entertained the hope, which would
be discovered in some cases to be well founded, that this
mysterious guidance might thus be obtained.
But here I would ask my reader to note an important
point ; viz., that while we may thus account for the
appearance of the habits of seclusion in individuals, on the
other hand it is not at all easy on any such basis to account
for the persistence of these habits in the race ; persistence
which is implied in the fact that they have at length become
THE FUNCTION OF RELIGIOUS EXPRESSION. 187
instinctive. For the occasions when such guidance would
be wished for must surely have been relatively very infre-
quent ; and it is difficult to understand how such occasions
could occur with sufficient frequency to develop the habits
that were finally to become instinctive.
It would be possible to explain the acquisition of such
habits indeed if, there having been some exceptional re-
currence of fear or perplexity to foster them, the habits
themselves or their accompaniments had been intrinsically
attractive ; but such they very clearly could not have been.
For evidently the painfulness, the danger, the hardship con-
nected with the life of the man who thus secluded himself
from his fellows must have been apparent to all. What is
more, the very guidance in hallucinatory form which he
might occasionally gain in seclusion must have been con-
joined in his mind with a very decided repulsion ; for men
as we know them surely display no special wish to be
startled by hallucinations; rather are they wont to dread
ghostly forms and voices ; and we have every reason to
believe that our savage ancestors were still more averse to
these mysterious sights and sounds than the average man is
to-day. This being true, evidently any habits which tended
to produce these hallucinations would naturally be avoided,
if in any case the connexion between habit and result were
recognised. This fear of hallucinations would therefore act
to prevent the acquisition by intelligent process of such
habits of seclusion.
It might be possible to claim that the primitive man to
whom in his seclusion the hallucinatory message was given
would gain power and influence, and to hold that on that
account his actions would be imitated from purely indi-
vidualistic motives by those who envied him this power or
influence. In making such an argument, however, we would
have to overlook the fact that the power and influence would
not accrue in any degree until after the firm establishment
of the customs under consideration, and would also fail to
consider what an inconsiderable proportion of the "inspira-
tions " that have come thus forcibly to men have brought to
them power or honour, comfort or benefit in life. Think
for a moment of the natural revolt that the savage man
must have felt, if his own personal welfare in this world
were alone considered, if once he realised the hardship, with
little compensation, in the life of the average hermit who had
felt and proclaimed himself to be an inspired prophet. More-
over, it must be remembered that the man who, under the
hypothesis we are considering, is supposed to choose this
188 HENRY RUTGERS MARSHALL:
life for the emoluments of one kind or another connected'
with it, must be supposed also to be fairly intelligent, and
intelligent enough surely to note that relatively few of thosa
who seek to gain the hallucinatory guidance by this means
ever really gain it at all ; and this fact is so evident that it
would certainly act as a distinct bar to the intelligent and
voluntary acquisition of the painful habits, even though
they were seen in some few cases to lead to the gain of this
guidance. On the whole then I think we must grant that
it is impossible to explain the acquisition and persistence of
the habits of seclusion which we are considering, under
the hypothesis that they are due to intelligent recognition
of personal benefits to be obtained from such seclusion.
But if we are compelled to grant that the habit of seclu-
sion is on the whole one that would be naturally avoided by
the man seeking self-satisfaction, we are also compelled to
grant that if it did appear in the race it would, in its direct
results, be disadvantageous to the individual, and furthermore
would be opposed to the persistence of the species.
Persistent seclusion must, on the whole, be dangerous to
the individual, who thus loses the advantages that go with
co-operation and mutual help in moments of emergency ;
and in the early days of man's development, when these
habits w T ere becoming ingrained in the race, the dangers con-
nected with attack by enemies and beasts of prey would
certainly be greatly increased if the man were unable to avail
himself of protection by others of his own kind. I need
not say a word to convince any one that the same persistent
seclusion from the world, if honestly carried out, must
necessarily prevent reproductive functioning ; and this in
itself would tend to eliminate the portion of the race which
had acquired these habits of seclusion.
It is apparent then, I think, that in connexion with the
instinctive actions leading to seclusion, we must look for
some other significance than the advantage of the individual
or the persistence of the race through reproduction : for
without such other significance these habits, even if once
acquired, would speedily be eliminated by natural processes
through the failure in the struggle for existence of those in
whom these habits became predominant.
But as a matter of fact, we know that the habits of seclusion
which we have under discussion have not been eliminated.
A volume might be filled with the names of " saints," and
ethical masters, and of hermits, who have found messages
of inspiration in their lives of separation from the world.
But vast numbers who have received no such messages have
THE FUNCTION OP RELIGIOUS EXPRESSION. 189
in like manner excluded themselves. I need but to mention
the monastic orders in the Christian Church and in other
religious bodies as examples of the widespread tendency to
separation from active life as an expression of religious
thought. We find also that amongst large bodies of religious
men habits of temporary seclusion have been established ;
habits which differ from prolonged seclusion in their repul-
siveness and disadvantage only in degree. And finally when
we come to the consideration of the perfectly normal religious
habits of perfectly well-balanced people, of men and women
of the very highest and noblest type, we find them with-
drawing themselves upon occasion from the distracting
stimuli of the world and giving themselves up to higher
reflexion and thoughtful self-examination.
In cases where men removed from the normal environment
receive thus what they feel to be inspirations, these messages
are evidently not likely to be related to individualistic reac-
tions, which in seclusion are not often called for ; but are
much more likely to be related to those impulses of a social
nature which cannot become forcible so long as immediate
response to stimuli from the environment is demanded.
If this be granted, then it seems to me not at all difficult
to comprehend the emphasis in the race of the habits we are
considering ; most natural to find, as we do, that voluntary
seclusion from the world has been emphasised in the habits
of religious teachers from the earliest days of history.
4. Fasting as an expression of religious feeling naturally
comes before us for consideration at this point, because it
has been, and is still, so closely connected with the habits of
seclusion that we have just been studying. Indeed, fasting
was almost necessarily connected with involuntary separa-
tion from the world in the desert ; and quite naturally
accompanied that seclusion which was undertaken volun-
tarily.
It is easy then to account for the origin upon occasion of
habits of fasting, and we can conceive also how these habits,
although arising in connexion with seclusion, might come
occasionally to be followed apart from seclusion. But it is
difficult, on the other hand, on any theory which implies
that fasting was originally undertaken to satisfy individual-
istic longings, to understand the persistence of these habits ;
yet such persistence in the past through many ages is
implied in the very existence of an instinct, the expression of
which tends to develop naturally in a large part of the race,
as we shall presently see is the case with fasting.
190 HENET RUTGERS MARSHALL:
Surely the painfulness directly or indirectly connected
with starvation cannot in itself be attractive. Nor are the
hallucinations which arise so often as the result of lack of
food attractive in themselves, as we have already seen ; nor
do they appear to ordinary men to be connected to any
great extent with individualistic advantage ; consequently
in accordance with our argument in the last section, we
are unable to agree with Tylor l that habits of fasting could
have had their origin in the desire of the primitive man
to produce voluntarily the exceptional nervous states
favourable to the seeing of those visions that are supposed
to give to the seer access to the realities of the spiritual
world. And even if we could agree that fasting had this
origin, it would not seem possible thus to account for its
persistence in the race for a sufficient time to have become
established as an organic tendency.
Nor can we account for the persistence of the fasting
habit by reference to Mr. Spencer's somewhat imaginative
hypothesis that fasting had its origin in the starving con-
nected with the custom of providing refreshment for the
dead ; even if this hypothesis be well grounded it can at
most account for the genesis, and not for the continuance of
the habit.
For very clearly the habit is in its direct results not only
of no advantage but of very great disadvantage to the indi-
vidual, and hence indirectly to the race of which he is a
member ; for the ascetic who indulges himself thus, is liable
to become weakened to such a degree that he may find him-
self incapable of self-protection against the adverse forces in
his environment ; a fact indeed which the most stupid of
savages would be quick to appreciate.
But notwithstanding the fact that the custom of fasting
altogether fails in attraction, and although it is easily seen
to be opposed to individual welfare, still the habit is sur-
prisingly persistent. Not only do we hear of the fasting of
those great leaders who in the past have seen visions and
heard voices guiding them to actions they would not have
conceived of under normal conditions ; but voluntar) 7 fasting
is taught as a duty by many religious bodies in our day in
all parts of the world ; usually indeed in connexion with
seclusion more or less rigid. Nor is the habit limited to
people of this type, for we find fasting undertaken voluntarily
ty many pious people who do not at all believe in the hermit-
like life of separation from one's kind.
1 Primitive Culture, i., 277, 402 ; ii., 372.
THE FUNCTION OF RELIGIOUS EXPRESSION. 191
Fasting in excess is a well-recognised means of producing
hallucinations ; but quite apart from such excesses, fasting
in moderation, reducing as it does the vitality sufficiently to
overcome any natural demand for spontaneous activities,
must clearly aid one very materially to gain that racial in-
spiration which most easily arises when reactions of indi-
vidualistic significance are not called for.
It seems to me then that in this fact we have an adequate
explanation of the persistence in the race of this custom.
Disadvantageous as the fasting habit might be from a purely
individualistic point of view, it thus appears to be of ad-
vantage to the race in that it tends to conserve and foster
that highly serviceable social grouping of which individuals
are elements, and this suffices to account for its continued
appearance amongst the individual elements of these social
groups which are now in process of evolution.
5. In connexion with the consideration of the habit of
fasting our thought is naturally turned to a class of customs
expressive of religious fervour which vary greatly in form,
and which in any one form are noted* amongst only a
relatively small number of the race ; all of which however
have the one characteristic that they involve the voluntary
assumption of bodily pain. The tortures of various kinds
which have been undertaken for their own sake, and endured
willingly and with joy by the saints of the past, need not be
enumerated, and I do not think it worth while to treat of any
of them in detail.
It would be almost hopeless to attempt to account for
these habits, so complex in form, limited in each form to such
small numbers, were it not that they are so closely related
to the much more uniform habits of religious expression
which we have already studied.
As we know them in historic times, among the people
whom we think of as civilised, they have become closely con-
nected with the widespread notion that the hope of salvation
of the soul lies in the assumption of an attitude of contempt
for the mere physical man. But it is apparent that this
conception implies a high degree of intellectual development
in the people adopting it, and its adoption must therefore
have been late in the history of our race ; hence it is most
probable that this notion was suggested as a rational excuse
for the continuance of religious habits already well estab-
lished, but which seemed to require some explanation in
accord with reasonable conceptions.
Here again we are dealing with habits which are in
192 HENRY RUTGERS MARSHALL :
themselves intrinsically unattractive to the individual, and
which therefore would not have persisted in the race on
account of their individualistic desirability. Moreover, they
are habits which are evidently disadvantageous to individuals
and would be seen to be so by any set of men of very
moderate intelligence. Furthermore, it is evident that in
themselves they might not infrequently bring serious dis-
advantage to the tribal group.
It seems clear, therefore, that there must have at-
tached to these practices in the past some important
advantage to the race, which has over-balanced the ever-
present individualistic, and the occasional racial, disadvan-
tage connected with them. But in the light of our previous
studies of the habits of seclusion and fasting so closely
connected with these more variable customs, it is not
difficult to conceive that this advantage may be found in
the aid obtained in connexion with these practices in the
strengthening of the social instincts.
As we have already seen there is every reason to believe
that in the states of hallucination which these practices
often entail the deeper lying instincts tend to come to the
mind : at all events the tendency to spontaneous indi-
vidualistic action would be largely reduced by these very
weakening processes which induced the hallucinations ; and
for those who gained these hallucinations the important
fact, so far as the persistence of the torture habits is
concerned, may not improbably have been the emphasis
within the hearers, or the seers, of their tendency to listen
for this guidance within themselves, which they thought to
te commands to them from without.
But again we must not forget that the hallucinatory
images occur to relatively few even of those who aim to
gam them by undergoing these weakening processes ; and
yet the one who fails will be benefited as well as he who
finds the more impressive guidance : for he too has gained
that suspension of the individualistic tendencies that results
from the processes of weakening, and therefore has in-
directly gained the emphasis of the slower acting, deeper
seated impulses of social import.
6. It seems appropriate at this juncture to consider for
a moment certain customs connected with the initiation into
the mysterious brotherhood of the religious body ; cere-
monies which are evidently in themselves unattractive, and
clearly disadvantageous from a purely individualistic point
THE FUNCTION OF RELIGIOUS EXPRESSION. 193
of view, but which nevertheless have persisted in the race
in a most extraordinary manner.
If, as we have already argued, the habit of restraint from
individualistic reaction has been enforced often by the
emphasis of the non-individualistic impulses in their most
emphatic form under the abnormal conditions of hallucina-
tion ; then it is not difficult to see how it might have come
to be considered most important by the leaders who had
once listened to these voices, or who had once seen these
visions, to obtain what were thought to be " inspirations "
in this hallucinatory form. More than this, those who were
convinced of the value of these hallucinatory states would
be naturally led to attempt to induce or even to compel others
to gain these experiences.
But a large proportion of these rites involve extreme
suffering and great physical weakening, which in themselves
must be repulsive to the barbarous man, and which evidently
are an immediate source of weakness to him and to the tribe
at large : furthermore, it is certain that a very small pro-
portion of those who submit themselves to these initiatory
tortures do in fact gain these "messages"; consequently,
even if the origin of these customs can be traced to the
desire to gain states of hallucination or to force them upon
others, the persistence of these customs cannot be thus
explained.
And yet, although this be true, on the other hand it is
equally true that those who participate in these rites place
themselves under conditions that lead naturally to the same
advantageous emphasis of the non-individualistic impulses
that is given when the trance state is really reached ; and it
would appear therefore that if the habits connected with
attempts to produce by compulsion these hallucinatory states
persisted, as they have persisted, it might be not at all
because the hallucinations, gained in relatively few cases,
could be of value to the average man, but because the habits
of restraint and of listening, which are of so much advan-
tage to the race, would thus in the main be enforced.
We have here then it seems to me adequate explanation
of the persistence of the barbarous initiatory rites which
were found as we know amongst savage peoples of olden
time and w r hich in somewhat less cruel form have come
down to our time in crude forms of religious wor-
ship.
Here we may note another fact which appears to be
of no small value as corroborative of the position above
taken ; viz., the fact that the performance of these initia-
13
194 HENEY EUTGEES MARSHALL :
tory rites is very closely related to the approach of the age
of puberty in the active participants. 1
That this relation between the time of the enforcement of
these initiatory rites and the growth of sexual capacity is
one to be expected seems to me clear ; for at the age of
puberty the boy and the girl have suddenly forced upon
them racial leadings that have never before been felt ; at
this period of their lives they are compelled to attend to
cravings of an organic nature that demand satisfaction and
yet which are based upon no personal experience of previous
satisfactions. The boy and the girl then become perforce
introspective ; and it is at this moment that the general
teaching to listen to the " voices " within them would be
most likely to prove effective.
7. I shall now ask my reader to turn from the study of
modes of religious expression which, when carried to excess,
so often lead to the production of hallucinations, to the con-
sideration of a special habit which of all religious habits is
the most widely prevailing and the most persistent, and yet
which in itself seldom if ever leads to the production of
hallucinatory states. I refer to the habit of prayer.
In studying the habits of seclusion, of fasting, and of self-
torture, we have had to deal with the theory that they
originated and have persisted in the race because of the im-
pressive hallucinations which they not infrequently occasion ;
but in relation to the habit of prayer such a theory can
scarcely be upheld.
On the other hand there are many indications that prayer
in its inception must have arisen in connexion with efforts
to obtain mercy from human conquerors in the bloody con-
tests which must have been common amongst the early
ancestors of our race. Its expressive attitudes themselves
tell this story. He who prays is found prostrate on the
ground ; or kneeling, with hands clasped, with head bowed,
with eyes closed ; and all these attitudes are suggestive of
powerlessness to attack; of absence of aggressive tendencies;
and of willingness to become the slave of a conqueror, and
to listen and obey his command.
Habits thus acquired to meet the exigencies of savage life,
might continue in force during those greater emergencies
which from time to time come upon man apart from human
agency, because of the notion that the peril in which the
1 Cf. " The New Life," A. H. Daniels. American Journal of Psychology,
vol. vi., 1.
THE FUNCTION OF RELIGIOUS EXPRESSION. 195
savage found himself placed was the expression of the
hostility of higher beings, of a God who was an avenging
power, and whom the savage believed he must have
offended.
But even if we suppose these habits of action to have
thus originated they very clearly could not have persisted
in the race because of the advantage that was thus supposed
to attend them. They certainly could not have had the ad-
vantage to the individual in relation to his God that their
prototypes originally had in relation to the conquering
warrior ; we recognise full well that the anthropomorphic
conception of an avenging Deity fails under rigid examina-
tion.
But beyond the fact that these habits of action had not
the individualistic advantage which may not unnaturally
have been attributed to them by uncivilised men, they
clearly must have been in themselves far from advantageous
to the individual exhibiting them ; for there being no all-
powerful mysterious enemy ready to attack man, actions
which in moments of danger, or perplexity, blinded the
savage to real dangers, and which induced him to assume
attitudes in which alertness was altogether precluded, might
often lead to his great individual disadvantage ; and they
might thus also often bring indirect disadvantage to the
race of which he formed a part. And even where direct
danger was not incurred, it surely could be of no direct
service to an individual to assume attitudes which preclude
reaction to the forces in his environment, while still re-
maining in a state of mental stress which would preclude
his gaining any of the recuperative force which comes with
the inactivity of rest.
It seems to me clear then that the tribes in which these
prayer habits became markedly developed would have
suifered in the contest for survival, unless connected with
these habits there had been some indirect and unrecognised
advantage of sufficient force to overbalance the disadvantages
above spoken of ; and if it appear that these habits have
persisted, then we are bound to assume that they had
some special racial values quite different from those originally
attributed to them. It is unnecessary for me to say even
one word to show that the habit of prayer is an exceedingly
persistent one in the race, having been characteristic of
religious expression from the very earliest times, and being
one of the most widespread of all habits of action with
which we are acquainted.
When we ask ourselves what this indirect racial advantage
196 HENRY RUTGERS MARSHALL :
could have been that has led to the persistence of habits of
prayer, our attention is again directed to the fact that all
the bodily attitudes connected with prayer amongst devotees
in the past, and amongst religious peoples of our own day,
imply restraint and the listening for command ; the calling
for help and the awaiting for answer and direction ; and we
perceive that the mental attitude which these expressions
involve is, as we have seen, the very one that would tend
to subordinate the individual variant tendencies to the racial
tendencies, that would lead to the suppression of individual-
istic reaction, and thus give opportunity for the slower acting
racial impulses of broader scope to make themselves felt.
I think then that it may be held to be in the highest
degree probable that the advantage connected with the
hearing of the "voice," with the accompanying emphasis of
racial impulses within us, must have led to the persistence
of habits of prayer, whatever may have been the origin of
these habits.
8. Sacrifice is a religious custom which I do not need to
tell my reader has been fixed in the race from the earliest
days of which history and archseology tell us. The human
sacrifice, the sacrifice of bull, of ram. of lamb, of precious
goods involving destruction in all cases of what is valuable
and useful ; these and closely allied sacrificial customs have
indeed tended gradually to disappear with the advance of
civilisation. But the sacrificial custom remains with us in
its essentials, expressed in the actions connected with the
belief that the giving up of valued goods, and the voluntary
relinquishment of that in life which we value most highly,
are acts of worship that please our God and that are effica-
cious to our salvation.
We may take it for granted I think that in all probability
these habits had their origin in attempts by men to gain
individualistic advantage ; to appease the wrath of enemies,
and to ward off dangers that appeared in connexion with
the action of their neighbours. But it is very clear that
when these actions were undertaken in order to satisfy the
wrath not of a conquering foe but of a supposedly irate
Deity, as we know them to have been, they could not have
had the same direct individualistic, or less direct racial, ad-
vantage ; those who performed the sacrificial rite could not
have gained for themselves or for their children the benefits
they imagined they were thus to obtain. It is probable then
that these habits would not have tended to be impressed
upon the race by Nature, unless they had been in themselves
THE FUNCTION OF RELIGIOUS EXPRESSION. 197
essentially attractive, or unless they brought to those who
practised them other advantages than any that were realised.
But we do not have to say a word to show that sacrifice
must have been essentially unattractive to the primitive
man, involving as it did much loss of precious things
gathered together with much labour which itself was
abhorrent to his soul. Moreover sacrifice evidently involves
reduction of individual resources and capacities, and danger
therefore not only to the individual but to his tribe from
those enemies who had not thus reduced their resources.
We must look then for other advantages than any that
appear on the surface in order to account for the persistence
of these customs. After the argument that has preceded
this, I scarcely need to tell my reader that my thesis in
reference to these, as in reference to the other religious
customs already discussed, is that they have been enforced
by Nature because of their value in establishing the mental
attitude of submission of the will to the commands of God,
as men have expressed it ; or in other words in establishing
the habit of the restraint of individualistic tendencies, and
of appeal to the guidance of the racial impulses of social
import.
The truth of this is evidenced in the very fact that the
term sacrifice has been directly transferred in common
language to apply to the voluntary renunciation or re-
pression of individualistic tendencies ; the term " self-sacri-
fice " in our everyday speech has come to mean self-restraint.
Moreover the very attitudes assumed in connexion with
sacrifice are ones which are most valuable in the production
of a full measure of reverential awe, which would prepare those
who watched the ceremonial to give attention to what came
to them as commands from those conducting the sacrifice.
The mere process of looking up withdraws our attention
from the distracting objects around us, and arouses in us the
powerful feelings accompanying the recognition of our own
littleness, of the sublimity of what is not of ourselves, as all
must realise who have lifted up their eyes to the mountain
peaks, or who have worshipped in the noble naves of the
Gothic cathedrals. The smoke arising from the altar
naturally led the worshipper to follow with his eyes its up-
ward curves, as does the incense burning in the ceremonial
of to-day ; led him naturally therefore to assume a reverential
attitude of mind.
But beyond this, these physical attitudes tended to induce
in him conditions distinctly opposed to the production of
individualistic activities and therefore well calculated to
198 HENRY RUTGERS MARSHALL :
bring him into, and keep him in, the frame of mind in
which the voice of conscience could most easily be attended
to. But above all we must remember that the sacrifice in
all religious ceremonial led up to prayer ; and the value of
prayer in bringing about the advantageous subordination of
individualism we have already spoken of at length in the
preceding section.
Celibacy, or the voluntary renunciation of the pleasures of
sexual and family life, is a form of self-sacrifice which is wide-
spread as a custom connected with religious devotion. It
is without doubt true that not a small number of professed
celibates do not altogether refrain from the gratification of
their sexual passions ; and yet if we eliminate this class of
pretenders it must be acknowledged that an important
proportion of men and women in all historic ages have
voluntarily quenched their sexual appetites in assuming the
celibate's vow.
That this voluntary assumption carries with it individual
distress of marked type will not be disputed, and it is not
possible to believe that it has been or is undertaken because
of the intrinsic attractions connected with it.
That it is also on its face distinctly disadvantageous to
the individual and acts in opposition to the persistence of
the species is also clear. That it cannot directly conduce to
the persistence of the race is evident when we consider that
if it were carried beyond narrow limits it would lead to
tribal extinction. That it is disastrous to many an individual
life is also certain ; for all who have knowledge of the sub-
ject will agree that the life of the celibate is beset with
many dangers, in that it tends, as alienists tell us, to bring
into existence extremely morbid mental conditions.
On the other hand we cannot but realise that these
morbid mental conditions are just the ones that are liable to
lead to the production of hallucinations, and that in adopting
the celibate's life therefore one takes a step which is not
unlikely to bring to him hallucinatory messages, which
themselves might be thought to be desirable as guides from
another world ; and this might lead individuals to voluntary
assumption of this form of self-sacrifice.
But in a previous section we have seen reason to agree
that no such individualistic desire can account for the per-
sistence of habits inducing these hallucinatory states ; for
to the mass of men hallucinations are far from attractive ;
moreover, we do not forget that to the mass of celibates no
such hallucinatory messages are given. Here again, how-
THE FUNCTION OF RELIGIOUS EXPRESSION. 199
ever, as with all other customs which are likely to produce
hallucinations, we realise that those who acquire the habit,
but fail to receive the message, nevertheless do gain in some
measure an emphasis of those impulses which are of
broader than individualistic significance. In this case the
influences which are of a sexual nature being curbed, there
is greater opportunity for the "higher" instincts of later
development, for the ethical instincts of social import, to
become prominent in mind. The very fact that the sexual
nature is kept in check forces its demands upon the indi-
vidual upon occasion while youth and health remain, and
thus the celibate's attention is necessarily guided to those
voices within him which can only be heard when one turns
to introspective examination. This habit of introspective
consideration, as thus aided, being once acauired will cer-
tainly bring about an enforcement throughout all of life of
those impulses of an ethical nature which, as we have seen,
require time for their development because they relate to
general trends of action which appear only when we study
long series of subordinate activities ; impulses which can-
not appear clear if our attention is fixed upon the individual-
istic demands of the moment, from which the celibate
deliberately attempts to cut himself off.
9. I must say a word here concerning the custom of
making pilgrimages which has been of widespread occur-
rence among many religious people.
This custom evidently involves individual hardship, per-
sonal loss and tribal weakening ; nor does it show on its
face the distinct advantages in the direction of social
advancement that I have been aiming to show exist in the
case of all other notable religious exercises.
But the reader will recall, I think, that in the last article
of this series I mentioned that we should expect to find that
the social impulses would tend to be made dominant by
actions which brought into strong relief the outlines of the
social fabric ; which emphasised the fact that there are
social bonds, that there exists community of interests which
must be dominant even where individual likings are oc-
casionally crushed out, that mutual aid is necessary to our
welfare as individual elements in social life.
The efficiency of these pilgrimages in this direction can-
not be questioned : and it seems to me there can be no doubt
that their value has been quite in line with that attached to
the other religious habits that we have been studying, when
we consider that they ended in sacrifice, in prayer, and in
200 HENRY RUTGERS MARSHALL :
other acts of devotion, these acts indeed being carried on
with less emphasis during the pilgrim's journey and being
looked forward to in their culmination from day to day.
This value of action in common with others of our race in
the enforcement of the ethical impulses is clear I think in
the development of worship in community, of which we
cannot stop to speak at length notwithstanding the very
great importance of the subject : and I may add that the
same value attaches to the development of religious societies,
and to the conventions and councils, the conferences and
congresses, of religious people which are so marked a feature
of our later civilisation.
10. In looking back at the habits of religious people in
the past as a whole I think we cannot fail to realise that the
most important of all religious activities have been, as they
still are, the customs which bring the common man to gain
the attitude of prayer in companionship with his fellow-man ;
and this because when men gather in great masses they
unwittingly learn of their social dependence, this impression
adding to the force of religious ceremonial in tending to
repress the emphasis of individualistic impulses.
Among the lower races some individual gains in one way
or another the habit of restraint ; he sees a vision, notices a
voice commanding him, or perhaps merely hears the "still
small voice of conscience". He interprets this as an
inspiration, as a revelation, as a message from his God. He
tells this to his people, and if he be a man of force they,
dimly feeling the impulse which he feels powerfully, obey
his call, which answers to some extent to the vague impulses
within themselves. They call him their prophet ; his God
becomes their God and with their prophet they learn to pray.
He teaches them to assume the attitudes of prayer which
have been effective for himself and which in turn also become
effective in enabling them, his followers, to hear the voice
that is leading him.
But there must be those who cannot hear the voice even
thus, and to such we should expect to find teaching given
by the ethical leaders ; as a matter of fact this habit of
teaching is universal with all higher developments of
religious custom. Having through fear or other means
produced in his hearers the attitude of mind in which they
are best able to hear the " voice," the prophet teaches them
what this "voice" has said to himself, and if he be an
ethical genius he blows into flame a fire that was ready to
THE FUNCTION OF EELIGIOUS EXPRESSION. 201
kindle within the souls of his hearers ; he calls to their
attention impulses which they recognise as their own when
he tells of them, impulses however which they would not
have perceived had he not spoken to them.
11. If the preceding argument has appealed to my
reader he will agree that the function of religion which lies
back of its ceremonial is the suppression of the force of
individualistic, elemental impulses in favour of those which
have higher significance.
But we have seen in what has preceded this that the
latest elaboration of the tendency to elemental variance is
what we know as Reason. And it is equally clear I think
that in self-restraint and individualistic suppression, in the
cry for aid and guidance, we gain that complex psychic
state which we know under the name of Faith. It would
appear then that in relation to our modern complex and
self-conscious intellectual life the function of religion will
lie to a great extent in the restraint of Reason and its sub-
ordination to Faith. It is most natural then to find that
religious leaders in all later times have emphasised this
teaching. Especially in the teaching of the Christian
Church do we find ever recurrent this dictum that reason
must be subordinated to faith.
12. Here our argument must rest. In what has pre-
ceded this I have written with no desire to make thorough-
going explanations, iri conformity with the notions of modern
science, of the religious experiences of the past and of those
that influence us in our day. So far as such explanations
are possible and desirable they have been presented more
fully and more ably than I could hope to perform any similar
work even if I wished to attempt it.
What I have been concerned to suggest is a reply to the
question which forces itself upon our notice. If Religion be
an instinct which has been acquired by the human race,
what special function does it serve in the development of
our race ?
Although Nature in forming this religious instinct may
have built it up (so to speak) out of habits formed for other
purposes, using them as they served her higher end ; still it
may well be claimed I think that these habits have to a
great extent persisted not because of their original values,
but on account of their worth to the race as means of
emphasising the subordination of the variant individual
principle to the racial principle ; of repressing the immediate
202 HENRY RUTGERS MARSHALL :
response to impulses which are only of individual import,,
and compelling delay until those of more far-reaching
importance can present themselves ; of forcing upon us
the habit of waiting for and subordinating ourselves to
what is conceived of as the command from a power higher
than any recognised in our immediate natural surroundings ;
of enforcing the habit of listening to the " still small voice of
conscience ".
This, it seems to me, we may well claim to be the main
function of religious expression, a function of sufficient
importance to account for the persistence in the race of the
habits related to religious service. Yet it must be noted
that this claim does not preclude the existence of other
functions of value to life, which may be pointed out by
some writer more familiar than I am with biological lore.
And especially must it be noted that this claim does not in
any way indicate that in gaining a conception of the bio-
logical functioning of religious expression, we have sounded
the depths of the significance of religion itself to the souls
of men existent in this Universe, which we so imperfectly
comprehend.
13. And now, in closing this article, I must ask my
reader to recur once more to the thought so often reiterated,,
that the religious customs we have been considering are all
tools, so to speak, which Nature has used to enforce re-
straint ; and I wish to emphasise the fact that this restraint
is of the very core and essence of religious functioning.
Many a man declines to call himself religious because he
cannot subscribe to the dogmatic statement of special
religious bodies ; because he cannot bring himself to join
with them in worship, or to follow their habits or customs.
But if my analysis be correct he may be, for all that, a.
thoroughly religious man ; provided only he finds within
him an impulse persistently leading him to restrain his
individualism and to give his social instincts full play ;
provided he strives to follow the order of impulse emphasis-
which Nature is endeavouring to impress upon him, in order
to produce in him the subordination of the individualistic
instincts, as modified with relation to reproduction, to those
which have social significance ; provided, in other words, he
lives a life subject to the call of duty. Many such men we
know who are without the bounds of the Churches.
This leads us to see that if we take a slightly different
view we may state our conclusion in terms more strictly
THE FUNCTION OF RELIGIOUS EXPRESSION. 203
ethical. The space at my command precludes the possi-
bility of dealing adequately with such a statement, but I
think the reader will agree that we find ourselves led to
hold that the religious instinct, if we allow ourselves to
be guided by it, compels us to act out the best that is
in us impulsively, without the necessity of waiting for the
slow processes of argument and conviction. It does not in
itself perfect our moral code, that is a matter of individual
development and individual effort ; but it does serve the
purpose of giving to us an instinctive tendency to express
and to strengthen the best that is ours by Nature's gift, as
our moral life unfolds. This it is that a man gains when
he falls under the sway of the religious instinct : a tendency
has arisen within him to give his higher instincts full play,
a tendency which itself has become instinctive.
IV. ON THE NATURE OF THE NOTION OF
EXTERNALITY. 1
BY HOWAED V. KNOX.
I.
THE present paper has for its object to elucidate the true
nature of the notion of externality, and to show that it
forms the foundation of the whole of our knowledge. As a
background for the views here advocated, I have singled
out the formula, Scientific law describes the routine of our
perceptions not by reason of any high degree of philo-
sophical merit in the work devoted to its exposition and
defence, but chiefly 2 because it contains, neatly packed in
a small compass, a sweeping denial of every one of the
propositions which it is my aim to establish. Before,
however, proceeding to attack this formula, it will be ad-
visable to give some typical quotations from the book from
which it is extracted, so as to be quite sure that we are
doing the author, Professor Karl Pearson, no injustice :
" If the reader once grasps the characteristics of this law
of Newton's [the law of gravitation] he will understand the
nature of all scientific law. . . . Such laws simply describe,
they never explain the routine of our perceptions, the sense-
impressions we project into an ' outside world '." 3 " While
in the nature of perceptions themselves there appears
nothing tending to enforce an order, D, E, F, G, rather
1 The views here advocated are in the main identical with those set
forth by Mr. Stout in his article on " The Genesis of the Cognition of
Physical Reality " (MiND, xv., No. 57) ; but the general standpoint is
somewhat different.
2 Another reason that has helped to determine my choice is that Pro-
fessor Karl Pearson, by his mode of treatment, is apt to bring into dis-
credit the very cause which, at bottom, he is seeking to defend, and in
maintaining which I am entirely at one with him the cause, namely,
of science versus (so-called) constructive metaphysics.
3 The Grammar of Science, p. 119.
ON THE NATUEB OF THE NOTION OP EXTERNALITY. 205
than F, G, D, B, there is still a real need, if thought is to
be possible, that the perceptive faculty should always repeat
the sequence in the same order. In other words, repetition
or routine is an essential condition of thought ; the actual
order of the sequence is immaterial, but whatever it may
be, it must repeat itself if knowledge is to be possible. We
express this briefly in the law : That the same set of causes
is always accompanied by the same effect." x " When we
scientifically state causes we are really describing the
successive stages of a routine of experience." 2 "Cause
is scientifically used to denote an antecedent stage in a
routine of perceptions." 3 "Change of sense-impression is
the proper term for external perception." 4 " Scientific
law ... is a brief description in mental shorthand of as
wide a range as possible of the sequences of our sense-
impressions." 5
Full of errors as is the formula above alluded to, our
immediate concern is with only one of these, but that the
most important: in upholding which, however, Professor Karl
Pearson in justice to him be it said is merely echoing
a doctrine first given clear utterance by the truly great
Berkeley ; a doctrine, too, that forms an integral part of
the causal theory of Kant.
There is not any routine of perceptions. In order to the
substantiation of this contention in a preliminary manner
and in the fewest possible words, it may be pointed out that
the cause (essential antecedents) of any physical phenom-
enon that comes under our personal observation may itself
elude observation by happening before our attention is
turned to the series of events in question. In such cases
the cause (i.e., what is scientifically reckoned as such) of
the phenomenon is entirely absent from the series of actual
perceptions : while even in imagination (representation) it
is not present to the mind until, at best, after the occur-
rence of the effect. According to Professor Karl Pearson's
formula, on the other hand, the cause would always have
to be sought for among the perceptions which precede or
accompany the effect. Nor can the theory be even partially
saved by saying that in such cases the representation of
the cause is scientifically to be regarded as the actual cause ;
unless to mention only the most obvious objection to such
a course we are prepared to sacrifice the axiom that "the
i The Grammar of Science, pp. 162-163. 2 Op. cit., p. 156.
3 Op. cit., p. 180. * Op. cit., p. 330. 5 Op. cit., p. 135.
206 HOWARD V. KNOX:
effect is subsequent to, or at most synchronous with, its
cause ". That axiom is, indeed, purely verbal, so that to
deny it would be a self-contradiction. The succession of
events, then, that physical science deals with, does not
run parallel with the series of mental phenomena. Thus
we have to distinguish between the stream of conscious-
ness, and the course of physical events as these are thought
by us. The existence of physical science is an index, not
of the presence, but of the absence of routine in perceptions.
Before proceeding to enforce this point, we shall do well to
obviate one or two possible misconceptions which might
arise as to the nature of the distinction which it is sought
to establish.
" When," the reader may object, " we ascribe physical
effects to causes which fall outside our actual experience,
all that we mean is that under such-and-such conditions
we should have experienced such-and-such sensations.
Consequently we are by no means compelled to the idea
that these events really existed in themselves." To which
the reply is that at present all this may well be granted,
for the sake of argument though later w r e shall have
something more to say on this same head. At the present
stage of our inquiry, we are not called upon to draw from
the necessity of the distinction in question any conclusion
as to the ' reality ' of an external world. It is only with
the reality of the distinction that we are here concerned.
We may describe it for the present, if we like, as a dis-
tinction between the course of mental phenomena as they
actually occur, and their course as they would occur, or
would have occurred, under certain conditions. 1
There is a second possible misconception that has to
be guarded against. The distinction under discussion is
closely connected with another, which, in its own place,
is no less important ; 2 but we must be careful to keep the
two apart. This other distinction is the one drawn between
events as they appear to us, and the mode in which they
are thought of as happening in themselves ; or between
our actual perceptions, and explanations (in Professor
Pearson's phraseology, descriptions) of these after the
manner of what have been called "representative fictions ".
Such are the explanations of the phenomena of light by the
1 Though, as will subsequently be shown (part ii.), this is not strictly
.accurate, it is sufficiently near the truth for our immediate purpose.
2 It is, in fact, essentially a refinement (as we shall see presently) on
ihe general distinction immediately under discussion.
ON THE NATUEE OF THE NOTION OF EXTERNALITY. 207
wave theory, and of chemical processes by the atomic theory.
The essential difference between the first distinction and
this one, may perhaps be sufficiently expressed by saying
that this distinguishes between the nature of physical events
as they appear to us, and what is thought of as being their
true nature ; whereas the former, that with which we are
here specially concerned, is drawn between the order in
which perceptions make their appearance (or, rather, their
want of order), and what is thought of as being the true
order of physical events. Having thus cleared the ground,
we can now resume our general argument. Let us take
one or two examples of the simplest possible kind.
We go out for a stroll in the woods, and have our
attention attracted by a wild flower. Can we ' account
for ' that flower being as it is by an examination of the
sensations, thoughts, etc., which were passing through our
mind previous to our coming in sight of it ? No, we refer
the completed stage of the flower to a connected series of
events different from these. We consider it as having
sprung up from a seed ; and, if botanically inclined, re-
present to ourselves its different stages of growth with all
the processes, chemical and physical, on which that growth
is dependent. We resume our way, when suddenly we
hear the sound of a tree-limb snapping overhead, and step
aside just in time to avoid it in its fall. Does that sound
follow, as effect on cause, on the mental phenomena which
preceded it ? Is the cause even of the bough's fall to be
found in the noise which, it is granted, is so far connected
with that event as to have served as a warning to us ?
Again, no. To ' account for ' the fall, we examine the
fallen limb, and find traces of where a large fungus has
been eating into the junction between it and the trunk.
We conclude that this gradual growth has, by destroying
the vitality of the branch and so rendering it unable to
support its own weight, brought about the occurrence in
which we are interested. But we have never seen that
fungus, or been otherwise aware of its presence, until
after the event in question ; when we imaginatively re-
construct the causes to which that event is due. Thus we
cannot explain the occurrence without going outside the
mental experiences which preceded it, and, in point of
time, led up to our perception of it.
These examples have purposely been chosen from changes
in inanimate nature. But exactly the same principle ap-
plies, so far as the individual consciousness is concerned,
to events in which other conscious beings play a part.
208 HOWAED V. KNOX :
So naturally and irresistibly, especially in the case of
sight, do we carry on the process of thus reducing events to
intelligibility, that it requires a great effort to concentrate
attention on the succession of perceptions simply as such.
Perhaps the easiest way to thoroughly realise that there
is no routine in perceptions is to close our eyes in some
place where a variety of sounds are to be heard, either in
the country or on a busy street ; and to avoid, so far as
possible, the ' outward reference ' of our sensations. We
shall, I think, have to admit that there is no rule by which
the series of sounds that we call a chaffinch's song should
suddenly follow on that series which we call a blackbird's
song, or why the latter should towards its close be mingled
with what we regard as the separate sound of a cow lowing
in the distance.
So far we have been considering events the supposed
antecedents of which lie outside consciousness. But pre-
cisely the same thing holds good if we regard the matter
from the other side, and consider the forward progress of
events. We can always break off our perception of a con-
nected series of physical changes by simply turning our
back and walking away. This truth applies equally, of
course, to cases where there is no voluntary breaking off
of perception ; as when a meteor flashes into sight, only to
disappear instantly from our gaze. In such cases the last
perceived stage in the series is not followed, in percep-
tion, by that which is reckoned as its proper effect, or
the proper succeeding stage. In other words, so far as
our perceptual experience is concerned, it is not true that the
same antecedents are always followed by the same conse-
quents. There is routine (or what may be regarded as
such) and we perceive bits of it ; but there is no routine
of perceptions.
The fact is that disconnectedness of perceptions is not the
exception, but the rule, for anything but very short periods
of our mental life. And from what has gone before it
follows that even when the perceptions are not disconnected
(i.e. even when they do relate to a connected series of
physical changes) this does not constitute a " routine of
perceptions ". For this thread of perception may be taken
up or broken off at any point.
The contrast between sequence in sense and the order of
physical events is, in truth, even greater than is apparent
at first sight ; for where an untrained observer thinks he
has actually perceived all the details that go to make up a
given complex of phenomena, a rigorous examination will
ON THE NATURE OF THE NOTION OF EXTERNALITY. 209
show that he has imaginatively, but ' unconsciously,' sup-
plied many links missing from actual perception. The
facility with which observation is unconsciously supple-
mented by inference is, indeed, a common-place of logic, and
is a familiar fact to all who have had to sift evidence. At
the same time, as the complement of this, we have the fact
that we habitually neglect in any observation what we
consider irrelevant concomitant sensations, which are re-
garded as belonging to a different series of events ; as when
in a chemical experiment we neglect the noises in the
street.
Both the neglect of ' irrelevant ' perceptions and the
imaginative supplying of what is missing in perception
are, however, most clearly marked where the ' irrelevant '
mental phenomena are not concomitant with our observa-
tions, but intervene between different stages of these.
When an astronomer, for example, resumes his observations
of a planet which he has been studying the night before,
he neglects the intervening perceptions and psychical states
in general. He does not seek to tack his present perception
of the planet on to these mental phenomena, which in point
of time led up to it; but he connects his present obser-
vations with those of last night, by imaginatively recon-
structing the progressive shifting of position, as between
the planet and the earth, which has proceeded independ-
ently of his perceptions, thoughts or emotions. It is only
from this point of view, it may be remarked in passing,
that the doctrine of the continuity of the path of motion
is anything but ridiculously false.
It is, I fancy, needless to multiply examples in support
of my contention, and, indeed, I feel that an apology is
due to the reader for what may seem the absurd length
at which I have dwelt upon the discontinuity in percep-
tions. My excuse must be that this important truth has
been too long neglected. Ueberweg is almost the only
considerable philosopher who has insisted on the fact that
perceptions do not succeed one another in a regular order. 1
The result of this neglect is seen in the possibility of such
productions as the Grammar of Science.
We may diagrammatically represent our results by the
1 In the notes appended to his translation of Berkeley's Principles of
Human Knowledge under the title of Berkeley's Abhandlungen uber die
Principinn d<r menschlichen Erkenntniss (second edition, 1879) : see especially
Notes 45, 56 and 77.
14
210 HOWAED V. KNOX:
adjoined figure, 1 where the straight line AB represents the
D
B
succession of mental phenomena ; and the curved (dotted)
line CD any series of physical events which sometimes runs
parallel (ef) with that stream, while at other times it is
separate from it. For the purpose of reducing the chaos
of sense to an intelligible order, we have to suppose
that percepts answer to something which runs its course
independently of perception, and consciousness in general.
(In actuality, of course, no single strand of the causal web
can be completely isolated from all the rest; so that our
line CD represents an extremely artificial simplification of
the case. This fact lends additional strength to the doctrine
of the absence of routine in perceptions, but it is unnecessary
to dwell on it just now.) For physical science, qua physi-
cal science, the distinction between the stream of conscious-
ness and the course of physical events is an ultimate one.
The question whether this distinction, with the idea of in-
dependent existence which it involves, can be philosophically
reduced to a distinction between actual existence in con-
sciousness and what may be called potential subjective
existence, will be considered in part ii. At present we are
only concerned with the fact that the distinction is a real
one, and involves the idea of existence which is independent
of consciousness.
This idea of things existing independently of conscious-
ness not merely, be it observed, independently of the in-
dividual consciousness is, typically, the notion of external-
ity. It is true that ' other-consciousness ' is external, in
the sense of being external to my consciousness. But the
orderly march of physical events does not enter as such into
the conscious content of any one of us. The distinction
between (a) the experiences which in point of time lead
1 This diagram bears much resemblance to one published by Professor
James in an article in the Psychological Review for March, 1895, in
illustration of a distinction much resembling at first sight the one here
under discussion. The essential difference between the distinction in
that article and the present one, is that the former treats of ' things '
as present to perception, and as thought of when not perceived ;
whereas our distinction refers to events, being drawn between the
changes of the physical world and changes in consciousness.
ON THE NATURE OF THE NOTION OF EXTERNALITY. 211
up to the realisation in sense-perception of any material
object or event, and (6) the conditions which led to that
event taking place, or that object being as it is this dis-
tinction is equally good in the case of each individual.
And it is the physical world as such that supplies just that
commonly objective standard of reference which makes
human intercourse and language possible. We must
especially note that just as my knowledge of the psychical
states of others does not make them my psychical states,
inasmuch as I know them as the states of others ; so our
knowledge of an event which at the time of its happening
is not perceived (perhaps not even known to be happening)
does not make it an event of consciousness, inasmuch as
it is known as an event which did not happen in con-
sciousness. In any case, to say that the representation of a
thing is the thing itself, would at the very least be the
same as saying that representation is presentation, that
thought is sense-perception, that memories and expectations
are present sensations. And even so we should not arrive
at an orderly arrangement of mental phenomena : see p. 205.
Consciousness of routine is very far from being the same
thing as a routine of consciousness. In short, physical
events are just those which cannot be treated as psychical
events, i.e. as existing solely as members of some actual
psychical series. Thus the physical world is the external
world to each and all of us ; and we are justified in con-
sidering " the physical world" and " the external world " as
interchangeable expressions.
That we do distinguish in such wise between the stream
of consciousness and the external world, is simply a matter
of psychological fact ; whatever the utility of the distinction
may be, and whatever its metaphysical significance. (But I
think we are now justified in going further than this and
asserting 1 that the notion of externality is the most essential
of all notions for the purpose of introducing order into what
would otherwise be a mere sensuous phantasmagoria.)
Thus in science we do not describe a routine of experience,,
but we (psychologically speaking) make a routine of things
in general through the mediation of the notion of externality.
Herein, it is to be observed, is involved the falsity of the
causal theories both of Hume, as commonly understood,
and of Kant though that of Kant contains a very important
1 That the foregoing considerations do fully justify this assertion will
be more completely shown in part ii., which may be regarded as an
answer to a possible objection against the assertion in question.
212 HOWARD V. KNOX:
element of truth. For, so long as our attention is con-
fined strictly to our perceptual experience, there is no
causation, no orderly succession of events, but mere chaos.
On the other hand, our distinction enables us to give a
meaning, which is otherwise lacking, to the separation of
psychology from the other sciences. We can now say,
without self-contradiction, that psychology has for its pro-
vince the stream of consciousness, in contradistinction to
the physical sciences, which deal with the external world.
It will be remembered that Kant says : " We never, even
in experience, ascribe the sequence or consequence (of an
event or something happening that did not exist before) to
the object, and distinguish it from the subjective sequence
of our apprehension, except when there is a rule which
forces us to observe a certain order of perceptions and no
other : nay, ... it is this force which renders the re-
presentation of a succession in the object possible". 1
This I would venture to correct as follows : We should not
distinguish between the subjective sequence of our appre-
hension and the course of events in the external world, were
it not that thus alone are we enabled to introduce among
our perceptual experiences a coherent order which in them-
selves they do not possess.
From the manner in which the notion of externality is
arrived at, it is clear that it refers primarily not to ' objects,'
simply as such, but to physical events. But, in the first
place, inasmuch as events in the physical world are known
to us as changes in and among, and actions and reactions
between, material bodies, it follows that these bodies must,
at least so far, be thought of as themselves external. But,
further, it is impossible, when once we have admitted the
necessity of the notion of externality as regards material
events, to avoid allowing it to apply to all material bodies
qua material : because (1) a thing can only be understood
with reference to its history, and this has to be distinguished
from the experiences which in point of time may lead up
to our perception of it (see example, p. 207) ; (2) it is im-
possible to follow out in imagination the course of material
events in dissociation from the relatively permanent parts of
the material world ; (3) every material object has to be re-
garded as at least the possible subject of changes either
internal changes, or changes of position.
Strictly speaking, it is pure tautology to say that material
things are to be regarded as external : so that the above
1 Max Miiller's Kant's Critique of Pure Reason, vol. ii., p. 172.
ON THE NATURE OF THE NOTION OF EXTERNALITY. 213
* reasons ' for so regarding material bodies must be taken
rather as setting out implications of the phrase " material
body ". For not all presentations (e.g. things seen in dreams
and ' optical illusions ') are called material, but only such
things as have to be affiliated to the external world. That
the belief in the externality of an object is associated in a
special manner with the sensation of touch, is only to be
explained by the fact that, in practice, that sense is the best
direct test of externality : the feeling does not contain the
belief in the externality of that which is felt. At the same
time, the test in question is one which is peculiarly ap-
plicable to ' objects ' as such, rather than to changes in
objects ; and this is probably the source of the prevalent
errors concerning the nature of the notion of externality
itself.
Having once got hold of the notion of externality, it is
not necessary to imagine the external world as being in the
exact form of our perceptions, if by representing it in some
other way we can more successfully achieve the purpose
of introducing order into the chaos of sense. But in
some form or other we must imagine it, if that purpose is
to be fulfilled in the slightest degree. It may be whittled
down to what is, by comparison with the fulness of per-
ception, the veriest thread, but we cannot dispense with it
altogether. To attempt to do so is as if a performer on the
tight-rope, unduly exultant in his own prowess, were to
essay to walk from bank to bank of the Niagara abyss on the
insufficient air.
This is what was meant by saying (footnote, p. 206) that
" representative fictions " and in general, it may be added,
the distinction between primary and secondary attributes
of matter are essentially a refinement on the primitive
distinction between the stream of consciousness and the
external world. That " representative fictions," whatever
else they may be, are not descriptions of the " routine of
sense-impressions," is obvious from the fact that there is
no such routine to be described. And that they do not describe
our sense-impressions in any ordinary sense of the word, is
obvious from the admitted fact that, e.g., light waves do not
resemble our colour-sensations. To describe a thing is to
describe it as it is, not as it is not. Briefly, no amount of
description of the cause of any event will of itself convey an
idea of the effect: and the 'facts' treated of in these theories
are supposed to stand to the sensations (or the underlying
neuroses) in the relation of cause to effect. Professor
214 HOWARD V. KNOX:
Pearson has a perfect right, if he chooses, to use the word
" description " in the sense in which every one else uses the
phrase " causal explanation " : l but he would have done better
to inform us that it is to the sound and not to the sense of
" explanation " that he takes exception.
II.
Any treatment of the question of externality would be in-
complete if it did not include some notice of the theory
(alluded to on p. 206 and p. 210) that in thinking and speak-
ing of material things and events which are not actually
objects of perception, we mean merely that on fulfilling the
appropriate conditions, those things or events " would be
perceived ". 2 For the sake of reference I will call this
theory Apologetic Idealism, since it plays so large a part
in attempted reconciliations between idealism and science.
We have now to consider whether this theory will hold
good iu face of the leading results arrived at in part i.
First of all, it must be noticed that Apologetic Idealism
is obviously intended to provide a substitute for the idea of
uuperceived existence ; in the sense that it seeks to reduce
this idea to lower terms, so to speak. Therefore the
" conditions " it speaks of must be mental conditions (i.e.,
pure modifications of consciousness), and must not be
conceived as appertaining to the external world : other-
wise, we shall have re -introduced the original idea of
unperceived existence, and thus completely stultified our-
1 See, e.g., footnote on p. 312 of The Grammar of Science: "As every
external perception is a group of sense-impressions, and as our senses
are limited, the atom, if a real phenomenon, could only appear sensible
by colour, hardness, temperature, etc., the very sense-impressions it is
conceived to describe. Hence, if the atom is to be not these things but
their source, it may be truly termed imperceptible." Though this passage
is not particularly luminous even if the word "explain" is substituted
for the word " describe " in it, it is in still worse case if we do not effect
this substitution. Professor Karl Pearson fails to see that even if we discard
' efficient causes ' there is still a useful distinction between description
and explanation. As it is, he leaves the origin of the fallacy of efficient
causes quite unexplained.
2 This special theory has to be distinguished from the general theory,
which is not here made an object of attack, that all experience can be
resolved into subjective elements, which fact indeed is obvious, seeing
that "subjective" = " forming part of experience ". My argument, in
fact, is not that experience cannot be expressed in subjective terms ;
but, that it cannot be reduced to subjective laws, pure and simple. There
cannot be such a thing as a pure science of mind, free from all admixture
of physical science.
ON THE NATURE OF THE NOTION OF EXTERNALITY. 215
selves. At the same time, by the terms of the theory it is
admitted that the perception is conditioned. Further, these
mental conditions must be the exclusive means of realising
the potential sensations : otherwise the ' existence ' of the
object does not imply merely that on the fulfilment of the
appropriate mental conditions it "would be perceived".
Finally, the conditions must admit of being specified :
otherwise there is no meaning in speaking of them as con-
ditions. To say that a phenomenon is conditioned, is to
say that under certain circumstances, or certain sets of
circumstances, it will always happen but only under such
circumstances.
I have not, as will be readily believed, the slightest in-
tention of disputing that certain trains of sensations, etc.,
if themselves realised, may in point of time lead up to the
realisation in sense-perception of the as yet unperceived
objects and this even if these trains are completely ir-
relevant to the given end. But the above analysis of
Apologetic Idealism brings to light the fact that it im-
plicitly asserts that the actualised perception follows by
rule on the mental states which precede it. In other words,
it asserts that the determining factors of perception are,
exclusively, mental states. If this is not the meaning of
the theory, it is impossible to say what it does mean.
Now it has been shown in part i., not merely that there
is no routine in perceptions ; but also that, as a matter of
psychological fact, we always do distinguish between, on
the one hand, the experiences which in point of time lead
up to the realisation in sense-perception of any material
object or event ; and, on the other hand, the conditions
which led to that event taking place, or (supposing it
granted that everything has had a history) to that object
being as it is, both in respect of its position and its
characteristics. Well, if the determining factors of per-
ception were exclusively mental states, there would be a
routine, if not in perceptions taken alone, at any rate in
mental phenomena considered as a whole : and consequently
there would never be any need to distinguish in this way
between the history of the material thing itself, and the
experiences which in point of time lead up to its per-
ception. The fact that we actually do employ the notion
of externality as a basis for rationalising our perceptual
experience, indicates that no more direct method is avail-
able.
Thus the distinction between the stream of conscious-
ness and events in the external world, involves also a
216 HOWARD V. KNOX:
distinction (though not an absolute one) between the stream
of consciousness and the conditions which antecedently
determine any given perception in the sense of determin-
ing the sensation or sensations which form the groundwork
of the perception. Though this point will probably, in the
light of the examples given in part i., be already fairly
clear, it may perhaps be as well to illustrate it by a simple
example ad hoc ; in which, to avoid giving ourselves any
special advantage, the thing to be perceived shall itself be
a relatively fixed and permanent object.
Let the unperceived object be an uninhabited island
in mid-ocean. What train or trains of mental phenomena
are necessary to its realisation in sense-perception'? 1
Obviously, none at all. A shipwrecked sailor may be cast
on that island after days and nights spent on a raft at the
mercy of wind and current, without any means of fixing his
position, and without any variation in his perceived sur-
roundings of limitless ocean and leaden sky. He may even
be cast ashore in a state of unconsciousness, and waking
find himself on dry land. Merely, however, to say that he
has no means of fixing his position, is to say that so far
as his sensible experiences are concerned, he might be
anywhere on the surface of the ocean. Therefore his meet-
ing with the island does not follow on these experiences by
rule, as one member of a routine-series on another.
Now though the example that has just been taken, having
been selected (within our self-imposed limits) for the sake
of brevity and clearness of exposition, represents a some-
what extreme case, it will be evident, on a little reflexion,
that a parallel case is offered whenever any material object
or event comes ' accidentally ' under our notice ; " accident,"
in this connexion, implying the absence of purpose.
From this it follows that even when, e.g., a navigator
1 It might have been thought unnecessary, were it not that this
seemingly palpable ignoratio elenchi had actually been committed, to
point out that Apologetic Idealism cannot be saved simply by saying that,
" If any one were there the island would be perceived ". What meaning is
directly conveyed by " There," other than, or more definite than, that of
" There where the island is " ? But this is to think and speak of the
island as being somewhere, i.e., as ' existing in space ' : and the question
which Scientific Idealism undertakes to answer is precisely the question
as to the nature of this existence, when the island is not actually perceived.
So far as it is thought of as being somewhere in spite of not being per-
ceived, it is thought of as a part of the external world ; but Apologetic
Idealism, if it has any meaning, is surely intended to get rid of this con-
ception of a world in space that continues outside consciousness. In
short, the very question at stake is the implication of the word ' there,"
when used in reference to things which are not actually perceived.
ON THE NATURE OF THE NOTION OF EXTERNALITY. 217
purposely directs his ship to our island by means of the
appropriate observations as to position, etc. (i.e., by means
of taking the physical conditions into account), his mental
states are not the essential determining factors in the case.
The psychical states only enter into the result as enabling
him to fulfil, in the body, the appropriate external condi-
tions : for, as we have seen in the case of the shipwrecked
sailor, those states can be dispensed with, provided that
these conditions are fulfilled.
To this last assertion it may be objected that we have
here virtually acknowledged : " that though these mental
factors are not the indispensable means of arriving at the
given result, yet, if at any time we could exactly repeat the
initial experiences, together with the appropriate volitions,
the final result would be the same. In other words, if
we, so to speak, put ourselves in the perceptual track of
any causal sequence, we can follow it up to any point we
like : so that there is a routine of mental phenomena, so
far as that particular result is concerned."
This, however, is not so ; the chief reason being provided
by the fact that " in actuality no single strand of the causal
web can be completely isolated from all the rest " (p. 210) - 1
It continually happens that we do repeat all the appro-
priate conditions so far as these enter into consciousness,
and yet the result miscarries owing not to any difference
in any of the circumstances that enter into our conscious-
ness at the outset, but, as would be the case supposing our
navigator's instruments were to go wrong, to some change
which has to be interpreted in terms of an external world.
To vary our example in a way which may perhaps bring
out this point even more clearly : We embark on board
ship, but, instead of reaching our destination as on a pre-
vious occasion, are wrecked upon a hidden reef which has
come near the surface since our last voyage. Thus the
primary conditions determining the perception of material
objects and events, have themselves to be regarded as ex-
ternal.
This fact of having to comply with external conditions,
and of having to adapt our conduct in accordance with what
we take to be changes in those conditions, if we wish to
attain any result in the material world, is, indeed, the
1 It is also to be noticed that the volitions must be based on, and in
a sense express, beliefs concerning the physical world as such : and in
seeking the origin of these beliefs, whether with regard to their general
or their special features, we are forced back on experiences which
volition has had no direct share in bringing about.
218 HOWARD V. KNOX:
cardinal feature of our everyday life. This fact, too, it
is, which gives meaning to the saying, that it is unfair to
judge of the wisdom of an action merely by its results. In
more general terms : Just as the science of psychology can
only be separated from the other sciences by distinguishing
between the mental and external worlds ; so the funda-
mental principle of biology, that the organism must be in
harmony with its material environment, can only have
meaning given to it by supposing that environment to
have an existence separate from any consciousness that
the organism may possess. So intricate and so widely
spread is the web of physical causation, that it is impossible
for any one to gather up all its threads into his perceptual
experience. The perception of one thing means the non-
perception of other things : while, at the same time, the
unperceived things must be taken into account. This it
is that constitutes the unity of Nature.
In this part we have so far only been concerned with the
conditions which may be specially distinguished as ante-
cedent to perception. But the mechanism of perception
has also to be regarded as belonging to the external world.
Psycho-physics, in fact, is simply the science which cor-
relates ' states of consciousness ' with the causal sequence
of physical events in general the brain being itself a
physical structure, and the changes wrought therein being
regarded by psycho-physics as determined by the rest of
the material world. But without an external world, as
was shown in part i., there is no physical causation at
all ; we saw, in fact, that the idea of physical causation
presupposes (or rather contains) the notion of exter-
nality.
Psycho-physics being thus absolutely committed to the
assumption of externality, it is absurd to look to it for
any solution of the ' question ' whether that ' assump-
tion ' is ultimately true. This conclusion is so important,
especially in connexion with the relation between neuroses
and psychoses, that it will repay us to look at it in this
connexion from a more general point of view.
In the first place, no one has ever actually perceived,
even in some other living being, the neuroses which under-
lie psychoses. They are entirely a matter of inference,
justified by bringing the more directly known facts of the
external world into a comparatively harmonious and in-
telligible order. But even if we could perceive the neuroses
in others, this perception would be exactly on a par with
ON THE NATURE OF THE NOTION OF EXTERNALITY. 219
any other perceptions of events beyond our own brain
(and would, like these, inevitably be subject to discontinuity).
Now, in the nature of the case, the neurosis underlying
any psychosis can never be directly known to the sentient
individual ; just because it gives rise to the appropriate
phase of consciousness, and not to a perception of itself. 1
Otherwise we should have perceptions ot nothing but
changes in the brain. That is to say, all our knowledge
of the physical world is based upon our perceptions of
that part of it which lies beyond our own brain. Our
neuroses are caused by the physical processes connected
with these other bodies ; but it is only from our knowledge
of these bodies (i.e. the perceived world at large) that we
can infer the existence of the neuroses. From which last
fact it follows that whatever kind of reality accrues to our
neuroses accrues a fortiori to the perceived things which
excite them ; but that any attempt to gauge the reality of
the latter by means of our knowledge of the former, must
involve a fallacy of one kind or another the exact kind of
fallacy depending, of course, on the nature of the would-be
argument.
Hence the futility of attempting as do, for example,
Schopenhauer 2 and Professor Karl Pearson 3 to prove that
1 Much in the same way, the hypothetical ether, being the medium of
vision, is in its nature incapable of being itself seen.
2 " One must indeed be forsaken by all the Gods, to imagine that the
outer perceptible world . . . can have a real objective existence outside
us without any agency of our own and that it can then have found its
way into our heads through bare sensation and thus have a second
existence within us like the one outside " (Fourfold Root of the Principle
of Sufficient Reason, chap, iv., sec. 21, in Bonn's Philosophical Library).
See also, for an illustration of this idea, Parerga und Paralipomena, vol.
ii. sec. 33, p. 49. (seventh ed.) ; and in especial the last two sentences of
the first paragraph.
" Turn the problem round and ponder over it as we will, beyond the
sense-impression, beyond the brain terminals of the sensory nerves we
cannot get. Of what is beyond them, of ' tliings-in-themselves ' as the
metaphysicians term them, we can know but one characteristic, and
this we can only describe as a capacity for producing sense-impressions,
for sending messages along the sensory nerves to the brain " (The
Grammar of Science, p. 81). See, however, more especially op. cit., chap ii.,
sec. 11, which is too long for quotation here. Professor Karl Pearson
acknowledges, by the way (op. cit., p. 20, footnote), that " it is perhaps
impossible to satisfactorily define the metaphysician " ; but he indicates
Schopenhauer as a typical member of the tribe. At the same time he
says : " the meaning attached by the present writer to the term will
become clearer in the sequel " which it certainly does. It almost seems
as if, in practice, the Professor employs the name as a term of contempt
for all who do not share, down to their last details, his own (happily in
some respects original) metaphysical views.
220 HOWARD V. KNOX :
because sensations are "merely" the subjective side of cere-
bral processes, therefore the world of matter, as we know it,
exists only in perception. Whereas, in truth, it is only by
supposing these changes, both in the brain and in the rest
of the physical world, to run their course outside our con-
sciousness, that we arrive at the result that sensations.
are thus bound up with cerebral processes. To say, as
does Professor Huxley, 1 that, scientifically, " thought is a
property of matter," but that, notwithstanding this, ideal-
ism may be ultimately true this is a position which, at
least on the surface, seems intelligible enough. But to
adopt the materialist view, and on the strength of it to
airily pronounce in favour of idealism, is quite another
matter.
The particular fallacy animadverted on in the last para-
graph is, it may be pointed out in passing, probably the
best attainable specimen of an interesting species, which
has never yet been given a special name. It consists in
adopting premisses wbich are only admissible in virtue
of a given notion or assumption, and employing them in
an argument against the validity (or ' reality ') of that
notion or assumption. It is to the argument what the
contradictio in adjecto is to the term, or the contradic-
tion in terms to the proposition. This uncouth species,
which lurks chiefly in metaphysical jungles, may perhaps
best be called by the name of the ignoratio principii ;
since for the actual conclusion we have only to substitute
its contrary in order to transform the argument into a.
petitio principii. As crafty dissimulation is of the very
inmost nature of this insidious monster, a schematic pre-
sentment of its bare bones would be even less instructive
than in the case of the remaining members of the genus..
But any one anxious to obtain other living specimens will
find the Grammar of Science a rich preserve for this kind
of game.
We may now sum up our results in the form of the
following principle the Principle of Externality which
is simply the " Law of Causation " reduced to its lowest
possible terms, and in connexion with which alone can
the notion of externality be properly understood : In spite-
of the absence of routine in the manner in which percep-
tions succeed other mental phenomena and one another,,
we succeed in approximately reducing the facts of experi-
1 Collected Essays, vol. i. (Method and Results). Essays III. and IV.
ON THE NATURE OF THE NOTION OF EXTERNALITY.
ence to order by regarding sensations as at least refer-
ring to things and events which exist, or run their course,
independently of consciousness. This conception constitutes
the notion of externality. (The principle of externality, re-
garded as an assertion of fact, is a psychological assertion :
it does not express a primordial belief, but sets forth the
general character of judgment.)
As regards the " absence of routine," etc., this may be
otherwise expressed by saying : " Sensations interrupt what-
ever routine there may otherwise be in mental phenomena
considered simply as such " ; if this is understood without
prejudice to the further fact, that the succeeding psychical
states (so far as they are not themselves sensations) are
the outcome of the action between the sensation and the
state of the mind at the moment of receiving the impres-
sion. These two complementary facts may be presented
under their physical aspect by saying, that the brain is
not a self-contained cosmos which runs its own course in-
dependently of all else ; but is, on the contrary, amenable
to influences from the rest of the external world, the
changes wrought in it being the outcome of these influences
as well as of its own nature and previous history. It may
here be pointed out that since perception, as distinguished
from mere sensation, always involves the idea of a regular
connexion of sensible attributes, and since this connexion
cannot be reduced to laws of a purely subjective nature ; it
follows that the development of sensation into perception
already implies the act of externalisation.
As regards the implication of the phrase " independently
of consciousness " : it will, I think, be clear from the
whole course of the preceding 1 argument, that we do not
first think of the object of perception as something separate
from consciousness and then think of it as continuing in-
dependently thereof; but, on the contrary, we have to re-
gard the percept as something more than a mere state of
consciousness, as being a " state of consciousness " with the
difference of marking as it were a point of contact with
something not itself a psychical state, because we have to
conceive the physical world, as a whole, as persisting in-
dependently of consciousness a state of consciousness
that persists apart from consciousness being a contradic-
tion in terms. The idea, then, of persistence 2 apart from
1 See especially pp. 212-213.
"The word "persistence " is here used in the sense in which Spencer
uses it in his formula of the Persistence of Force i.e. to denote ex-
istence prior, as well as subsequent, to the particular manifestation.
222 HOWAED V. KNOX:
perception, i.e., of unperceived existence, is of the very
essence of the notion of externality. And this again is only
another way of saying that the fundamental aspect of the
notion appears in that conception of physical events, whereby
these are distinguished (as physical events) from the " sub-
jective sequence of our apprehension ". It results, indeed,
from the considerations adduced in this part, that changes
in perception, even when they do not indicate changes in the
things perceived, can only be rationalised as functions of
physical change : that, in fact, to regard anything as a rela-
tively permanent object is to interpret the fluctuations in
our perceptions as changes in our bodily relations to the
object rather than as changes in the thing itself. Physical
permanence has thus no meaning for us except in con-
nexion with the flow of physical events.
Contrasting the present theory of the nature and value of
the notion of externality with others that have been put
forward, we can say that not any mere opposition of the
extended to the unextended, not any " permanence " of
" possibilities of sensation," not any supposed " persistence
in consciousness," not any fictitious " regularity in the order
of our perceptions " ; but the perpetual flux of the material
world, and the fleeting and discontinuous manner in which
its parts and processes are presented to consciousness, give
scope for (we cannot strictly say, give rise to) the notion of
externality.
Finally, it is to be noticed that this notion, though appli-
cable to experience being, indeed, the necessary condition
of the possibility of its rationalisation yet involves a going
beyond bare experience. Knowledge therefore, while de-
pendent on experience for its material, is dependent for its
structure on the activity of thought. Thought is, in fact,
essentially the activity of reducing the facts of experience
to order. 1 * Science is not a mere description, it is a con-
struction.
The position we have so far gained, then, may be roughly
described as a sort of Kantism though it is obviously devoid
of any necessary idealistic implication. The vital point of
Kant's idealism (in which point he has been copied by
1 This may be expressed in its biological bearings by saying : that the
biological function of thought is so to react on perceptual experience,
as to at once analyse it and conceptually enlarge its limits. Human
thought differs from animal thought in being (1) purposively directed to
the accumulation of results, (2) capable of conscious scrutiny of its own
processes. (1) represents the scientific movement of thought, (2) the
philosophical.
ON THE NATUEE OF THE NOTION OF EXTEENALITY. 223
Green and his following) lies in his identification of the
externality of the material world with its spatiality. But
it will now, I think, be clear that, though undoubtedly space
and time are the framework (whether or not a priori) on
which the whole of our knowledge of the material world is
constructed, in order to this end we require, in addition, the,
principle of externality as above defined.
III.
It now only remains for us to estimate the immediate
metaphysical significance of our results. This part of our
task, however, need not detain us long, since the foregoing
analysis of the notion of externality was necessitated pre-
cisely by the fact that idealists of all denominations have
invariably missed its true nature ; so that all their arguments
against its validity fall beside the mark.
One of the most essential conditions of thought is that any
predication only attains significance in so far as the idea
which the predicate-term expresses is opposed to some other
idea. This is implied in the meaning of the word "significant "
itself. If, therefore, the word "mind" or " consciousness "
is to have any meaning for us (any meaning, that is, more
definite than that of " something-or-other ") it must be as
contrasted with something that is not consciousness. The
only thing that can be so contrasted with mind is matter.
Now the idea of matter has been shown to presuppose the
notion of externality, and the essence of the notion of
externality has been shown to lie in the idea of existence
which is independent of consciousness. Therefore the word
" mind " is as much dependent for its meaning on the idea of
unperceived existence as is the word "matter" itself. All
which may be more briefly stated by saying that the dis-
tinction between consciousness and the external world is also
a distinction between the external world and consciousness.
To subsume the idea of matter under that of mind would be
to empty the word "mind " of all meaning.
Thus the idealistic account of Nature, whether in the
form of esse is percipi or esse is intelligi, is essentially
self-contradictory, that is, meaningless ; and, consequently,
the question whether it is true or false is also devoid
of meaning. Nor is this charge a merely formal one.
The question whether the external world exists, if intended
as an inquiry into the constitution of the universe, is
meaningless simply because any question concerning the
224 HOWARD V. KNOX:
constitution of the universe can only be answered along
the lines of the notion of externality. It is in virtue
of the notion of externality that we know the universe as
a universe. For this reason the present paper has been
entitled, not an inquiry into the problem of externality, but
an inquiry into the nature of the notion of externality.
Merely by way of giving point to the foregoing remarks,
and having an eye to brevity in our choice of examples, let
us take a few characteristic utterances of modern idealism
and see how they look in the light of the results attained in
parts i.-ii.
(a) " Now in the absence of any recognition of a synthetic
principle, in relation to which the successive experience
becomes what it is not in itself, this [i.e., Berkeley's theory of
space] means nothing else than that space is a succession of
feelings, which again means that space is not space, not a
qualification of bodies or parts of body by mutual externality,
since to such qualification it is necessary that bodies or their
parts co-exist. Thus, in his hurry to get rid of externality
as independence of the mind, he has really got rid of it as
a relation between bodies, and in so doing (however the
result may be disguised) has logically made a clean sweep of
geometry and physics." l But in the same way the doctrine
that esse is intelligi means that the physical world is not
physical : for to get rid of externality as independence of the
mind, is to make a clean sweep of physics.
Green speaks 2 of the " contradictions which, under what-
ever disguise, must attach to every philosophy that admits
a reality either in things as apart from thought or in thought
as apart from things, and only disappear when the thing
as thought of, and through thought individualised by the
relations which constitute its community with the universe,
is recognised as alone the real ". But if the thing has to be
thought of as external to mind, what then ? Green rightly
rejected the view, as interpreted by him, that the real is
"that in regard to which the mind is passive"; but failed
to see that, so interpreted, it is simply the obverse of the
doctrine that relations exist in and by the act of thought.
" This real," he says, " in all its forms, as described by Locke,
has turned out to be constituted by such ideas as, according
io him, are not given but invented. Stripped of these
:superinductions, nothing has been found to remain of it but
1 Hume's Treatise, ed. Green and Grose, vol. i., p. 145.
2 Op. cit., i., p. 141.
ON THE NATURE OF THE NOTION OF EXTERNALITY. 225
that of which nothing can be said a chaos of unrelated,
and therefore unmeaning, individua." 1 But esse is intelligi
is not an inference from the absurdity of this conclusion : it
is the absurd conclusion itself, stated the other way round.
(6) "Anything, in no sense felt or perceived, becomes to
me quite unmeaning. And as I cannot try to think of it
without realising either that I am not thinking at all, or
that I am thinking of it against my will as being experienced,
I am driven to the conclusion that for me experience is the
same as reality. The fact that falls elsewhere seems, in my
mind, to be a mere word and a failure, or else an attempt at
self-contradiction. It is a vicious abstraction whose exist-
ence is meaningless nonsense, and is therefore not possible.
. . . You cannot find fact unless in unity with sentience, and
one cannot in the end be divided from the other, either
actually or in idea. But to be utterly indivisible from feeling
or perception, to be an integral element in a whole which is
experienced, this surely is itself to be experience. Being
and reality are, in brief, one thing with sentience ; they can
neither be opposed to, nor even in the end distinguished
from, it." : But since sentience is a chaos, how are we to
reconcile this with the following? "Reality is one in this
sense, that it has a positive nature exclusive of discord, a
nature which must hold throughout everything that is to be
real. Its diversity can be diverse only so far as not to clash,
and what seems otherwise anywhere cannot be real. ... Or
again we may put it so : the real is individual. It is one in
the sense that its positive character embraces all differences
in an inclusive harmony." 3 I suppose we shall be told that
the needful reconciliation is "somehow" effected in "our
Absolute ". But consider : " you can scarcely propose to be
quite passive when presented with statements about reality.
You can hardly take the position of admitting any and every
nonsense to be truth, truth absolute and entire, at least so
far as you know. For, if you think at all so as to discrimi-
nate between truth and falsehood, you will find that you
cannot accept open self-contradiction." *
(c) " Objects, things, and events a world of experience
exist for us, and can exist for us, only in so far as our
sensitive impressions are determined and related to each
other according to universal principles. Objectivity and
universality are equivalents of each other, and to say that an
1 Hume's Treatise, ed. Green and Grose, vol. i., p. 132.
2 Bradley's Appearance and Reality, pp. 145-146.
3 Op. cit., p. 140. 4 Op. cit., p. 136.
15
226 HOWAED V. KNOX:
object might exist which was not definitely determined as to
its quality and quantity, or definitely related to all other
objects in space and time both in its persistence and in its
changes, is to use words without meaning. If we could
imagine such an object or, what is the same thing, if we
could imagine a series of impressions or perceptions which
yet it was impossible to bring under the general laws of the
connexion of experience we should be conceiving of some-
thing, inconsistent with the very existence of experience.
If there were such objects, they could not be objects for us." 1
This, I am afraid, we shall have to amend somewhat as
follows : Objects, qualities and events the world of Nature
can be known to exist as such, only in virtue of the notion
of externality. If objects, etc., were reducible to a series of
perceptions or impressions which it was possible to bring
under general laws of the connexion of experience, they
would not be objective for us. (In overlooking this fact, the
Hegelian idealists have fallen into the same blunder as the
" psychological " idealists. This is a good illustration of
the principle that " constructive metaphysics," so far as it is
not mere verbiage, consists in making elementary blunders in
psychology.) Objectivity and externality are thus equiva-
lent expressions. But though or rather because the
notion of externality is an irreducible element in all belief
concerning existence, it is not itself a belief. The bare
notion does not represent a rationalisation of experience,
but rather the lines on which all such rationalisation must
proceed. It is one side of an abstract distinction, which
only receives body in an actual judgment. Briefly, we
never believe in an external world simpliciter, but always in
an external world of a particular kind. The only intelligible
question, then, that can be asked concerning the external
world in general is, How can we best improve our concep-
tion of it? But this is the question which science is
continually engaged in answering.
" All rational attack and defence must rest on, and appeal
to, certain general principles w r hich make the assailant and
the defender intelligible to each other : and the Sceptic, so
soon as he begins to speak, takes his stand along with his
opponent upon the general basis of intelligence. To at-
tempt, as the Sceptic proposes to do, to deny the very idea
of knowledge which alone makes his statement intelligible
to himself and to his opponent, and furnishes the only
common ground upon which they can meet is like attempt-
1 Caird's Hegel, p. 116.
ON THE NATUBE OF THE NOTION OF EXTERNALITY. 227
ing to wrestle with an opponent while our feet are in the
air. The intelligence can no more hoist itself out of the
intelligible world by any process of argument than the body
can lift itself out of the material world. On the contrary,
as I have already indicated, the very effort after absolute
denial which the sceptic makes must tend to bring to light
principles which his scepticism does not and cannot assail,
principles which it seems able to assail only from a confusion
of the universal with the particular, of the idea of truth
with a particular truth." :
Of these so-called principles (i.e., notions) the most fun-
damental is the notion of externality. Thus the idealist is
the person who most thoroughly conforms to Prof. Caird's
conception of the " Sceptic ".
1 Prof. Caird's Critical Philosophy of Kant, i., 21.
V. DISCUSSIONS.
IN WHAT SENSE, IF ANY, DO PAST AND FUTUEE TIME
EXIST ? i
I.
THE difficulty which this question embodies is stated in a striking
form by Lotze. And although it is admitted that philosophy
cannot see its way to a victorious doctrine of a timeless reality,
without an experience which we do not possess, it is useful to re-
consider the common-sense view of Time, in order that we may
not deceive ourselves as to the possibility of acquiescing in it.
Are Past and Future 2 this is Lotze's question really non-
existent? And if they are nothing at all, have we altogether
grasped what such an assertion involves? "The history of the
world, is it really reduced to the infinitely thin, for ever changing,
strip of light which forms the present, wavering between a dark-
ness of the Past, which is done with and no longer anything at all,
and a darkness of the future, w T hich is also nothing? " And he
further points out that in the natural images which he here makes
use of, he has softened down the difficulty, in compliance with the
inevitable bias of popular fancy. For these two abysses of obscurity,
past and future, however formless and empty, would still be there.
But let any one try to dispense with these images, and to banish
from thought even the two voids which limit being; he will then
feel how impossible it is to get along with the naked antithesis of
being and not-being, and how unconquerable is the demand to
think even of that which is not as some unaccountable constituent
of the real. " Therefore it is," he continues, " that we speak of
distances of the Past and of the Future, covering under this
spatial image the need of letting nothing slip completely from the
larger whole of reality, though it belong not to the more limited
reality of the Present."
Bradley states the point more tersely. Science " habitually
treats past and future as one thing with the present. The char-
acter of an existence is determined by what it has been, and by
what it is (potentially) about to be. But if these attributes, on
1 Bead before the Aristotelian Society.
2 Metaphysie, book ii., ch. 3.
IN WHAT SENSE, IF ANY, DO PAST AND FUTUEE TIME EXIST? 229
the other hand, are not present, how can they be real ? Again, in
establishing a Law, itself without special relation to time, science
treats facts from various dates as all possessing the same value.
Yet how, if we seriously mean to take time as real, can the past
be reality?" (Appearance and Reality, p. 208).
The difficulty of the infinite thinness of that strip of light which
according to a natural logic should form our present, has been
disposed of, so far as experience goes, by psychology. Though
the conception of a flux or succession may seem to imply a present
which perishes in appearing, it is evident that in fact our present is
not of this nature, but includes duration, and is variable in its
extension. Thus we are not brought face to face with a mere
series of vanishing points, such as Lotze's language presupposes ;
although it may be that this escape from one perplexity is only
purchased at the cost of another. For there is something strange
about a succession any length of which can be taken as present
and treated as if it all existed at once.
But waiving this form of the difficulty, what I desire to ask is
this : Can an intermediate or improved form of the common-sense
doctrine be suggested, such as to be free from the difficulties
which Lotze and Bradley point out in our natural conception of
time as real, and Past or Future as non-existent ?
" Why should not time be real," it may be said, " as the form
of a process at once successive and continuous?" A unity there
undoubtedly is in reality ; the past causes or conditions the
present, and the present the future. But why should not a unity
develop itself through the continuous nexus of phases in succes-
sion ? And w r hy should not the laws of nature or the systematic
and coherent element of harmony which finds expression in
science, art and religion, be simply the generalised character and
connexion of that which in actuality exists, as it seems to exist
with a continuity no less real than its succession ? Why sacrifice
one element of apparent reality, its successiveness, to the other, its
continuity; and if we do so, are we not destroying both?
On such a theory, which represents, I think, the position of the
natural man when once it has been thoroughly made clear that
change or succession without a continuity is unmeaning, nay,
even that " nothing but the permanent can change," I presume
that past and future would exist, so to speak, indirectly. Dis-
tinctions of tense would have a genuine meaning in the relations
of cause to effect within an order of real conditioning. But the
present tense alone, implying a certain duration, would predicate
existence in the full sense. It would be quite agreed that the
past and the future make a difference to the present. But they
would be held to exist only in and through this difference, and
would be realities only, in the case of the past, as effects, in the
case of the future, as anticipations (the contents of which might
be ascribed as attributes to objects).
The difficulties of such a view arise from the thorough unity of
230 BEENAED BOSANQUET :
content between the present and the past and future. Passing
over the shifting extension of the present, which goes to show that
the difference between present and past is merely one of degree
the problem would be quite different if the present were a segment
of fixed length, cut off by infallible marks from the past we may
point at once to the inevitable objection arising from the unity of
knowledge, which Mr. Bradley referred to in the few words cited
above. For we all know that in logic, i.e., in trying to catch the
spirit of science and recognise its necessities, the first step is to
transcend the distinctions of tense ; and this for the reason that
they are incompatible with what we understand by universal
truth ; and for science there is no truth except universal truth.
And probably it is needless to labour this point. Scientific truth,
it will be admitted, consists of universal connexions, such that if
true at all they are always true, and if ever upset are wholly to be
rejected. Observable sequence of events cannot be scientific truth.
But I can imagine its being urged that the body of science, and of
art or of religion, in so far 'as they aim at expressing eternal
realities, are erections or constructions of the human mind, existent
in fact within the present only, and valuable as focussing charac-
teristics permanent throughout the entire world-process, itself
extended in time.
In view of such a position and it would be a gain, I think,
per se, to know if such a position meets with support a line might
be taken by idealists which would be less one of assault than of
interpretation. A certain element of the world-process, supposed
to be as a process the ultimate reality, would have been admitted
to form a permanent background of the time-series. It would be
a background ex hyp. not consisting in sensible objects or events
and so far devoid of presentable existence. On the other hand,
it would be of such a nature that the presentable existence could
only by incorporation with it, and consequent loss of its present-
able character, claim a truth (if the term reality is to be reserved for
sensuous presentation) lasting beyond the instant of presentation.
Now it is impossible for any modern students to say that a
system of truths can be a mere psychical existence, without refer-
ence to some character of a world beyond, though possibly one
with, individual consciousness. This mode of escape is therefore
shut off. And then what have we remaining ? We have reality
as a sequence of presentable events, which sequence is endowed
by the hypothesis with actual continuity of a certain kind. The
nature of this continuity is permanent, and all universal truth con-
sists in stating with more and more perfection the permanent
nature or laws or characteristics of this continuity ; and no
element of the succession can be embodied in a system of truth
except in as far as it can be shown to be inherent in the per-
manent nature of this continuity which we primarily notice as a
succession.
Would it not be true to say that we must choose at this point
IN WHAT SENSE, IF ANY, DO PAST AND FUTURE TIME EXIST? 231
between accepting the permanent nature of the continuity as the
higher form of reality, thus taking the essence of past and future
to form one timeless whole along with the essence of the
present ; and erecting a distinction of principle between the work
of the mind, e.g., the body of science, and the given sensuous series,
which would carry us back to the point at which John Locke
began ?
BERNARD BOSANQUET.
II.
NOTWITHSTANDING the realistic character of the hypothesis
apparently accepted by Mr. Bosanquet as a compromise or via
media, and put forward less as an assault upon, than an interpre-
tation of, what he considers to be the hypothesis of natural
realism, I am wholly unable to see that it either avoids or solves
the difficulty signalised by Lotze and Mr. Bradley as inherent in
the conception of time as real namely, that it involves conceiving
both past and future time as wholly non-existent.
It does not avoid it, because the "permanent nature of the
continuity in the higher form of reality " does not, as he supposes,
make that reality " one timeless whole," but rather renders more
undeniably evident the necessity of time to reality. For the very
meaning of permanence is duration of something in time ; and the
very meaning of continuity is absence of breaks or intervals in
such a permanence. Time cannot be perceived, imagined, or
thought of, save as a continuum, the discreteness of which, when
it exists, is introduced either by thought, or by some difference in
the quality of its content ; upon which discreteness its being
thought of as a succession of parts depends. Yet though I must
on this account reject one of Mr. Bosanquet's final alternatives,
I do not therefore accept the other, for reasons which will
presently appear.
While the first alternative does not avoid Lotze's difficulty
about time, neither does it solve it. No attempt whatever is made
to solve it, so far as I see, in Mr. Bosanquet's paper. It is not
even faced. Time is an essential element in experience, and
therefore in our conception of reality ; it is essential both to
consciousness and to reality, and common to both. When, for
instance, we handle a solid object, the present moment of the
existence of that object and the present moment of our feeling it
are one and the same present moment of time.
" What is Being," says one of the chief personages in a dialogue
of Plato's, " but sharing in some definite nature in present time, as
to have been is to have shared in some definite nature in past time,
and to be going to be is to be going to share in some definite
nature in future time ? What say you ? It is very true. Well,
then, Unity shares in time, if it shares in Being." (Plato's
Parmenides, 151, E.) Unity (Iv) is the subject under discussion.
232 SHAD WORTH H. HODGSON:
Time being thus universal in experience it follows that any
difficulty which arises from the very nature of time cannot be
avoided, but must be faced. And such is the difficulty signalised
by Lotze. Time is a mode of continuity which has this peculi-
arity, that, of any two points taken in it, one is earlier and the
other later. In this it differs from that other mode of continuity,
called spatial continuity or space, in which any two or more
points have space between them, but exist simultaneously with
each other. All contents of experience, then, since they have
time as an element in them, are constantly passing, coming into
and going out of immediate consciousness, and that portion of
time which they occupy between the point of their entry and the
point of their disappearance is called an empirical present
moment. The content of an empirical present moment, thought
of before it actually enters consciousness, is thought of as
future ; one thought of after it has disappeared is thought of as
past.
Now all our experience takes place in empirical present
moments. All our thoughts, memories, imaginations, expecta-
tions, feelings, volitions, and so on, as well as sense presentations,
are passing contents of present moments. We cannot think of
present contents except as now existing ; we cannot think of past
or future contents except as now not existing. About these taken
as existent (or non-existent) portions of consciousness, there is no
difficulty. Only a present content exists now, or is present. But
what about the objects of which these existent present contents
appear to be a knowledge ? and among them what about those
objects which we call real, what about Reality, in which time is
just as essential an element as in empirical present moments of
experience ? Must not reality also, since it shares the nature of
time, come into and pass out of real existence, just as empirical
contents of experience come into and pass out of actual existence
as states of consciousness ?
The answer is, I think, plain. States of reality do in fact come
into real existence and pass out of real existence, just as contents
of consciousness, which are our experience, pass into and out of
experience. But not Reality as a whole, any more than Experience
as a whole. Reality exists in successive empirical states, each
having duration in time, just as our experience of it does. We
have, then, to conceive Reality so far as we can form any positive
conception of it at all as consisting of a series of changing states
of physical matter, forming, in Mr. Bosanquet's words, " a world-
process itself extended in time ". This conception I adopt, but not
with Mr. Bosanquet's interpretation, that it or any so-called
" background " of experience is " timeless ". And I conceive the
whole world-process as real, in the sense that all the simultane-
ously existing parts of any present empirical state of it are in
action and re-action on one another, so as to produce a new state,
or new configuration of parts ; the uniformities discoverable in
IN WHAT SENSE, IF ANY, DO PAST AND FUTURE TIME EXIST? 233
these actions and re-actions being that which we know as Laws of
Nature.
By conceiving the successive states of the real world-process as
empirical, that is, having duration, we leave room for the change
wrought by action and re-action between them to take place, and
so issue in a new state or configuration. The simultaneously
existing parts which are said to be in action and re-action on one
another are not to be considered changeless, because existing
simultaneously, but as changing, though within certain limits and
in certain respects only ; action and re-action being themselves a
mode of change, and, as such, occupying time. Every part of an
empirical state must be conceived as having a certain time-
duration, during which it enters into action and re-action with
other parts of the same state. If, however, it should be objected
that any mode of motion, or of change, is inconceivable, because
involving time, of which the prior limit must have ceased to exist
before the latter limit comes into existence which I take to be
the real point of the difficulty signalised by Lotze the reply is,
that this is to reduce change or motion to a single changeless or
motionless state, having no duration- which, I suppose, was the
Eleatic conception of Reality. But to reduce Eeality or any state of
it, in thought, to a single changeless state having no duration, has
the very opposite consequence to that which is intended by its
advocates ; for it involves reducing an empirical present moment
of real existence to a mathematical instant of time, whereby it
becomes a mere limit between past and future time, and these
latter, so far from being non-existent, must then be thought of as
the sole existing realities. Unless indeed we think of past and
future existence as also non-existent, because not existing now ; in
which case thought would become felo de se, having arrived at the
conclusion of pure nihilism, which is incompatible with the fact of
experience of any kind whatever. Thought cannot work without
some experiential data to work upon, and all experiential data
involve a former and a latter in time. To erect distinctions which
are the mere machinery of thinking, and which presuppose some
content into which they are introduced (as, for instance, abstract
unity and number, abstract figure in space, the abstract logical
laws of identity and contradiction, or the abstract limit between past
and future time) into independent realities, is mischievous pedantry.
To the view now taken, I cannot, for my part, see that what
Mr. Bosanquet puts as an alternative conception, at the end of
his paper, is any real or exclusive alternative at all. I certainly do
not wish to " erect a distinction of principle between the work of
the mind, e.g., the body of science, and the given sensuous series ".
I see, of course, that sense-perception and thought are two very
different functions, or modes of experiencing ; but both alike refer
to and deal with the same content of experience, and the same
real world-process. There is, so far as I can see, no timeless
background to either the one or the other.
234 SHADWORTH H. HODGSON:
What I own I do not see is, that any objection or difficulty
arises from the fact that scientific truths are universal, or, in Mr..
Bosanquet's phrase, " transcend the distinctions of tense". What
is meant by their being universal is, that they apply to any and
all parts and states of the real \vorld-process ; or, as Mr. Bosanquet
himself puts it, "if true at all they are always true". Always;
exactly so ; true for all time. That two and two make four is a
universal mathematical truth, true for all times and places, and
whatever may be the objects counted. How you can count
at all without time, I cannot imagine, or think without it either.
What then, in result, is the solution of the difficulty propounded
by Lotze and Mr. Bradley ? ' You have faced the difficulty,' it
will be said to me, ' but you have not solved it. After all you
have to confess, that no states of reality exist but passing and
present states, and only while they are present ; past and future
states being strictly non-existent. This is no solution of the
difficulty, it is an admission that it is insoluble.'
To this I answer as follows : What is a present state of
reality ? We know a present state of reality as present, only by
identifying it with a present empirical moment of our own
experience. This I pointed out at the beginning of my paper.
The present moment of the existence of the real world-process and
the empirical present moment of my experience are one and the
same present moment, since only one time-duration common to
all things is conceivable. But as Mr. Bosanquet has well pointed
out, the empirical present moment of my experience has no fixed
limits. To which I add, that it has no fixed limits either in its
character as an existent state of consciousness, or in its
character as a knowing, that is, as regards the extent and richness
of the content immediately known or experienced by it. The
keener my sensibilities and the more powerful my cognitive
energies of every kind, the greater will be the expanse, duration,
richness and complexity of the contents experienced in any one
of the successive empirical moments which make up the history of
my consciousness as an existent.
Suppose now that, in place of me and my capacities, or those of
any finite human being, there was introduced a conscious being of
indefinitely keener sensibilities and indefinitely more powerful
cognitive energies of every kind, the whole content experienced by
him in any one of his successively existing empirical present
moments of consciousness would also be indefinitely increased, in
point of expanse, duration, richness and complexity. And there
is no contradiction in supposing that the sensibilities and cognitive
energies of such a being should be heightened to as great a degree,
though indefinitely conceived, as that to which we can conceive
the whole real world-process expanded, lengthened in duration,
and increased in richness and complexity of content. In that case,
and on that supposition, the whole real world-process, in what is
to our apprehension past and future as well as present time,
IN WHAT SENSE, IF ANY, DO PAST AND FUTURE TIME EXIST? 235
would be to such a being the immediate object of a present
experience, and that in any or every one of the successive
empirical moments which would compose the history of his
consciousness as an existent. And yet he would be aware of the
real world-process in all its detail, and with all its distinctions of
earlier and later in time, just as we are aware of the distinctions
of earlier and later in the successive parts of the content experi-
enced in an empirical present moment of our finite consciousness.
Now I ask, would not the truer universe, the truer world-process,
the truer Eeality, be that which was disclosed to a conscious being
of indefinitely great powers, as compared to that which is disclosed
to finite intelligences like ourselves ? And if it would, are not
what we call past and future states of the real world-process just
as really existent now, inasmuch as they are present realities to
that supposed indefinitely heightened consciousness, as any state
of it which is the object of an empirical present moment of a finite
consciousness ?
Observe there is no a priori notion of Eeality to appeal to. Our
conception of what it is must be drawn from experience, and is
therefore always relative to the consciousness which is the percep-
tion or the knowledge of it ; of course, without implying that we
conceive its existence dependent on the existence of the conscious-
ness which perceives or knows it. We cannot, so to speak, get at
reality at all, save through consciousness as a knowing of it. The
question what is it known as ? or what is it in consciousness ? always
comes first, concerning anything whatever ; we never know what
anything is, save by putting this question first. The ultimate
meaning of Esse is Percipi. So it must be also with the whole
universe or world-process of Eeality. Since, then, we know that
our own experience is inadequate to grasp it, we also and thereby
know that, to conceive it truly, we must conceive it as being that
which it would be known as being by an intelligence which should
be adequate to comprehend its immensity in a single moment of
experience.
SHADWOBTH H. HODGSON.
III.
MR. HODGSON'S answer to this question appears to be that both
past and future time do exist in the sense that both would be
present to a conscious being whose cognitive capacities were
perfect. I do not know if he can prove that such a conscious
being exists ; but I see no objection to accepting this hypothetical
answer as giving information about reality, if it only means that
reality, if it were known as it really is, would all appear to be
present : for that comes to saying that reality, as it really is, is in
one long present; or, to accept Mr. Hodgson's qualification, that the
distinction between past and future does not exist in the world as
236 G. E. MOORE :
a whole in any other sense than it exists in that part of the world
which is present to us in any one of our " empirical moments ".
But Mr. Hodgson seems to damage his answer very seriously
when he asserts that the distinction of past and future must yet be
supposed to exist in quite another sense in the consciousness of the
deus ex machina, who is necessary to his solution of the problem.
" The whole real world-process," he says, " would be to such a
being the immediate object of a present experience, and that in any
or every one of the successive empirical moments which would
compose the history of his consciousness as an existent."
His consciousness then would be an existent and would have a
history ; and that being so, in what sense would the past and
future moments of his consciousness exist ? Mr. Hodgson could
only answer that they would be absolutely non-existent : " only a
present content," he says, " exists now, or is present ". And he
seems to see no difficulty in this assertion. But to those who
cannot, as he does, treat consciousness as exclusive of reality
(though, as we have seen, he also says it is " existent "), it will
appear to re-open the whole discussion. At all events it is in this
very transition of consciousness from past to present and future
that Lotze found the difficulty that Mr. Hodgson professes not
only to have faced but to have solved. In the chapter, from the
end of which Mr. Bosanquet's quotation was taken, Lotze
discusses at great length the possibility of conceiving the apparent
succession of events in time as really nothing but the presentation
of an unsuccessive whole to consciousness ; and, having admitted
the possibility of this conception, he is only driven to the statement
in question, by the impossibility of conceiving that events in
consciousness itself (what Mr. Hodgson calls " empirical
moments ") should appear to be successive, when they are really
not successive.
But apart from Mr. Hodgson's extraordinary assumption, which
perhaps he may have justified elsewhere, but which seems to vitiate
the whole of his paper and to make it very difficult to find a common
ground for argument with him the assumption, namely, that
consciousness is in no sense a constituent of reality, and that, there-
fore, succession in consciousness, as not affecting the reality of
time, needs no explanation ; apart from this, I think his final view
may be shown to involve an open inconsistency with his premises.
" The present moment of the existence of an object," says he,
" and the present moment of our feeling it are one and the same
present moment of time." Apply this to the consciousness of his
deus ex machina, and we get the result that the whole world-process
repeats itself in every successive moment in which it is presented to
that consciousness. In that case, surely, the whole world-process
is simply not the whole world-process.
But there is another point in Mr. Hodgson's final conception
which I think it will be well to discuss, because he accepts it from
Mr. Bosanquet ; so that here I find myself forced to oppose them
IN WHAT SENSE, IF ANY, DO PAST AND FUTURE TIME EXIST? 237
both. This point relates to the use which both propose to make
of the psychological doctrine that what Mr. Hodgson calls the
" empirical present moment of my experience," and Mr. Bosanquet,
more tersely, " our present," " has no fixed limits ". It is true that
Mr. Bosanquet's main argument is not affected by this point, and
that he twice expressly waives a full discussion of it ; still he uses
it as an objection to Lotze's statement of the problem, and his
words seem to imply that there are pertinent difficulties lurking
in it. I think it is as well that they should be dragged to the
light, not only because they vitally affect Mr. Hodgson's proposed
solution, but also because they help to make clear the general
nature of time ; lastly, too, because I fear I am heretical with
regard to them. Mr. Bradley, at all events, so far as I under-
stand him, is against me : " There can," he says (Principles
of Logic, p. 53), " be no part of the succession of events so small
or so great, that conceivably it might not appear as present ". Now
I do not wish to enter into a psychological argument, for which
I am very ill equipped ; but I think that at all events this state-
ment should be guarded against the use which Mr. Bosanquet and
Mr. Hodgson seem to make of it, by the following proviso : " But
not if it appears as a succession". Surely the psychological doctrine
is only meant to emphasise the fact that in time, as in space, there
is a minimum sensibile ? The rate of change in our consciousness
can only be measured against an objective standard, and the
shortest events that we can discover by introspection may turn
out to occupy a considerably longer duration than, e.g., one revolu-
tion of a wheel revolving at 200 per second. Moreover it may be
discovered that different persons, or the same person at different
periods, differ in respect of the amount of inner change which
corresponds to some such fixed outer standard. But this would
only mean that the minimum sensibile of what Kant calls the
" inner sense " has a merely relative value. The case here is
different from that of space, because there we have only to
compare the divisions which we can discover in the content of our
space-presentation, with those which science necessarily infers to
be actual or possible, whereas here we have to compare the
successive moments of our consciousness not only with inferred
motions in space but also with the content of our presentations.
Time, in short, as Kant says, is a form not only of the outer but
also of the inner sense. Now, as a form of the outer sense, it is
precisely similar to space in respect of its infinite divisibility ; but
in it, as in space, it is impossible to detect divisions below a
certain degree of minuteness. When, however, time appears as
form of inner sense this minimum sensibile of presented content
corresponds exactly to the minimum sensibile of the same content,
viewed as psychical event; but it is also as necessary in the
history of consciousness as in physical history to regard time as
infinitely divisible. Hence I entirely concur with Mr. Hodgson
when he says : " The present moment of the existence of the real
238 G. E. MOORE :
world-process and the empirical present moment of my experience
are one and the same present moment". This is true, both with
regard to the perceptions of the individual, and to the rate of
change in consciousness or matter, when measured by some
arbitrary unit. But, when Mr. Hodgson goes on to contradict
himself by saying that " we are aware of the distinctions of earlier
and later in the successive parts of the content experienced in an
empirical present moment of our finite consciousness," that state-
ment is just as false. We may know that the parts of what we
experience as unsuccessive must really be successive ; but it is
inconceivable that we should experience as successive, what, just
because we are unable to detect successive parts in our experience
of it, we call " our present ". The fallacy, if fallacy it is, consists in
confusing inner perception with scientific knowledge of the outer
world a confusion which, since Hume, could hardly be made in
the case of space, because there inner perception has not the same
double bearing. It would, however, be a parallel absurdity to
deny the infinite divisibility of space on the ground that the
smallest perceptible point was of variable extension. Mr. Bosan-
quet's very words that "our present includes duration" imply
that it can be measured by the same arbitrary units as
physical successions. And the fact is that as soon as w r e per-
ceive, and do not merely infer, any succession in our present,
it ceases to be our present. To ascribe to the Absolute any power
of experiencing past and future as present, would be to put its
consciousness on a lower level than ours, since it would be to
deprive it entirely of that power of distinguishing successive events
which is a condition of our progress in knowledge.
I must, therefore, plead guilty to the charge of " mischievous
pedantry," with which Mr. Hodgson confutes Lotze, and at the
same time may thank him for giving us, in what he regards as a
reductio ad absurdum of philosophic thinking, a proof of the
unreality of time. The present is not real, because it can only be
thought as infinitely small ; and past and future cannot be real,
not only because they also must be thought as infinitely divisible,
but also because they wholly lack that immediacy, which, accord-
ing to Mr. Bradley, is a necessary constituent in reality. But, if
neither present, past, nor future is real, there is nothing real left
in time as such.
At the same time, I must beg Mr. Hodgson not to condemn me
too hastily. If he thinks that by such a view I am bound to
maintain that I " can count without time, or think without it
either," there still remains much to be said. I think I may safely
leave to Mr. Bosanquet to defend himself on this count ; but, for
my part, I should like, in fairness, to warn Mr. Hodgson that I
cannot help making a distinction between the process of thinking
and the content of thought. Because I cannot think without
taking some time about it, I cannot see it follows that what I think
a,bout need also be in time. Mr. Hodgson himself seems to admit
IN WHAT SENSE, IF ANY, DO PAST AND FUTURE TIME EXIST? 239
in various parts of his paper that the content of thought, when it,
as such, has reference to time, may differ in respect of its time-
relations from the thought which thinks it. And, if this be so, the
mere fact that we can only think in time can never prove that
everything we think of need be so, except in so far as we are
thinking it.
However, in connexion with the ' reality ' of universal truth, I
a,m glad to be able for once to side with Mr. Hodgson against Mr.
Bosanquet. Although I hold that the point which is made against
Mr. Bosanquet, in respect of his use of the word ' always ' to
describe the validity of universal truth, is in part merely verbal ;
yet I do think there is some real objection to the use which Mr.
JBosanquet makes of the notions of 'permanence' and 'continuity'.
As to the former term I heartily agree to Mr. Hodgson's assertion
that its ' very meaning is duration of something in time'. The
latter I wish to investigate more carefully.
Mr. Bosanquet, I cannot but think, tends to confuse two
meanings of continuity which it is most important to distinguish.
J?or instance, in the passage in which he supposes a theory for
the ' natural man ' who has once thoroughly understood that
* nothing but the permanent can change/ he speaks as if a ' con-
tinuous nexus of phases in succession ' might be identified with the
* undoubted unity in reality ' constituted by the fact that ' the past
causes or conditions the present, and the present the future ' .
He seems to suggest that such unities as the laws of nature may
be the continuous element in time. And his further argument in
no way invalidates this part of the supposed plain man's view.
It is only directed to show that the plain man must ultimately
admit this continuous element to be a higher form of reality than
the successiveness, which he at first supposed could not be sacri-
ficed without involving the destruction of the continuity. Thus
Mr. Bosanquet' s final conception might seem to involve that we
should think adequately of reality, if we imagined every content
that we have reason to think real persisting unchanged through an
endless time a conception similar to some theological notions of
Eternity (Milton's ' Long Eternity,' for example) and which might
seem to make it impossible for beings in such a state to recognise
that they were in time (since change seems to be a ratio
cognoscendi of time), but which would not, for that reason, preclude
their really being so. Surely the continuity of time, as it is
generally understood, would really be destroyed along with its
successiveness ; but successiveness in no way involves any differ-
ence of content in events, other than that which constitutes the
difference of one moment of empty time from another. The
continuity of time is its qualitative nature as immediately
perceived ; ' time,' as Mr. Bradley says, ' is not a mere relation '.
But the continuity which we must suppose to belong to reality is
not this special quality of time, which as a mere quality is as
unreal as the relation of succession. A universal, such as a law of
240 G. E. MOOEE: IN WHAT SENSE, IF ANY, ETC.?
nature, may perhaps be spoken of as giving continuity to its
particulars, since it binds them together ; but it binds them in
quite a different way from that in which the successive moments
of time are bound together. For instance, any two durations may
share the universal notion of a union of continuity with discrete-
ness, but the unity thus constituted can obviously not be the same
as the continuity which is only one term in the universal that
connects the two durations.
For this reason I think Mr. Bosanquet rather underrates the
difficulty of reconciling time with reality. Time must be rejected
wholly, its continuity, as well as its discreteness, if we are to form
an adequate notion of reality ; and this thorough-going rejection
of almost all the content with which our world is filled, most
seriously impairs the filling of our conception of reality. We are,
I think, forced with Kant and with Lotze, to desiderate an entirely
different form of Perception, which would share with Space and
Time nothing but the mere immediateness of the Present, without
its distinction from Past and Future, and this Eeality for us remains
little more than a Ding an Sich. As such, however, I must insist
against Lotze, that it does remain knowable by us. He implies
this when he speaks of a totally different form of Perception as
merely possible ; for, in that case, he cannot ascribe to Time that
absolute necessity, which anything which we are to recognise as
Eeal must have. By this admission he seems finally to condemn
Time as merely subjective, and the w r hole previous course of his
argument tends to prove, not that it is more than an appearance,
but only that if we assume an appearance to be real, we cannot
prove its unreality.
If I need, then, after the foregoing discussion, to give a direct
answer to our question, I would say that neither Past, Present, nor
Future exists, if by existence we are to mean the ascription of full
Eeality and not merely existence as Appearance. On the other
hand I think we may say that there is more Eeality in the Present
than in Past or Future, because, though it is greatly inferior to
them in extent of content, it has that co-ordinate element of
immediacy which they entirely lack. Again, and lastly, I think
we may distinguish in this respect between Past and Future.
The Past seems to be more real than the Future, because its
content is more fully constituent of the Present, whereas the
Future could only claim a superiority over the Past, if it could be
shown that in it Appearance would become more and more at one
wdth Eeality.
G. E. MOOBE.
VI CRITICAL NOTICES.
The Principles of Sociology. By HERBERT SPENCER. Vol. iii.
London : Williams & Norgate, 1896. Pp. 635.
THE present volume of Mr. Spencer's Principles of Sociology is
not an entirely new book. It is cut up into three divisions, and
two of these have already been placed before the public. The
first division, dealing with Ecclesiastical Institutions, appeared
a good many years ago in a separate form as an independent
book. The second division, dealing with Professional Institutions,
has also been previously published in the form of articles in
reviews. The only portion of the book which is entirely new is
the third part, which deals with Industrial Institutions. Objec-
tions have been raised by purchasers of the first division of the
present volume on the ground that they cannot obtain the two
concluding divisions without purchasing the first a second time.
The author, and not the purchaser, is the supreme judge as to the
manner in which he shall publish his works. On the other hand,
intending purchasers may be deterred, and probably are deterred,
from carrying their intentions into effect when they find that they
have to buy a second time a publication which is already in their
possession. This, however, is a detail, offering it is true an
inviting field for the exercise of casuistry, but of no import what-
ever as far as the contents of the present volume are concerned.
Ecclesiastical Institutions, according to Mr. Spencer, are the
outcome of religious ideas, and on this point there is unanimity
of opinion among all writers who have devoted attention to the
subject. But when Mr. Spencer proceeds to say that the origin
of religious ideas is to be found in ancestor worship he at once
raises an issue on which there is the widest difference of opinion.
An explanation, to be satisfactory, must take account of all the
facts, and it can hardly be said of the ghost theory of the origin of
religion that it is a theory which fulfils this condition. As a
t matter of fact we know exceedingly little about the religious con-
sciousness of primitive man. We may, if we like, assume that
lis religious consciousness is somewhat similar in character to the
religious consciousness of the modern savage, or to the religious
jonsciousness of the progressive races of antiquity, or to the
religious consciousness of the child. But after all we cannot
"
242 CEITICAL NOTICES :
say for certain that it was similar. We are in a region of
hypothesis, imagination and conjecture. This is no doubt a
fascinating region ; it offers a boundless field for the exercise
of psychological divination. And it must be admitted that Mr.
Spencer is a master in this department. But from such a
region the most acute and highly trained intellect can only bring
back "possibilities and probabilities". In so far as these con-
jectures are a sort of satisfaction to our curiosity as to the probable
origin of religious ideas and institutions they serve a useful pur-
pose. But it is always to be remembered that they are only
approximations at the best, and cannot be placed in the category
of established facts. It is easier to trace the development of the
religious consciousness than to divine its origin. The manner in
which Mr. Spencer performs this task is coloured by his funda-
mental assumption as to the origin of religious ideas. But his
main contention is in accordance with historic fact when he
points out that the evolution of the religious consciousness from
lower to higher levels is to be seen in what he calls the " dean-
thropomorphisation" of the supreme object of religious reverence.
Mr. Spencer considers that this process will continue until what he
describes as the " Ultimate Eeality transcending human thought "
is no longer spoken of in terms which are only applicable to a
transfigured man. The process of " deanthropomorphisation "
if carried to the extent indicated by Mr. Spencer may give satis-
faction to the intellect, but will a religion in which this process
has been completed afford adequate satisfaction to the heart and
will? Religion is much more a matter of emotion and volition
than of intellect, and unless ecclesiastical institutions are able to
provide satisfactory exercise for the emotional needs of man it is
to be feared that they will ultimately cease to exist. In short,
religion must present a conception of the universe which compels
reverence, devotion and effort, as well as intellectual assent.
From Ecclesiastical Institutions Mr. Spencer passes by a natural
transition to Professional Institutions. This he does in accord-
ance with the general principle which dominates his philosophy,
that the process of development is a process of differentiation
the rise of the heterogeneous from the homogeneous. The ecclesi-
astic or priest used to combine in his own person almost all the
functions which are now differentiated and distributed among the
various professions. The ecclesiastical origin of the physician
and surgeon is proved by Mr. Spencer by a reference to the fact
that all over the world the priest in humbly developed societies is a
medicine man as well as a ghostly counsellor. As social evolution
advances it is seen that the cure of diseases is effected by natural
means, and when this is observed the doctor becomes by degrees
differentiated from the pi'iest and assumes the position of an
independent professional man.
The singer, musician and dancer, are specialised in accordance
with the same principles as the doctor, but at a less early period
HEEBEET SPENCEE, The Principles of Sociology. 243
of social development. The orator, the poet, the actor, the
dramatist, arise out of the ovations to living and departed kings
and chiefs. " The great deeds of the hero-god, recited, chanted
or sung, and mimetically rendered, naturally came to be supple-
mented by details so growing into accounts of his life ; and thus
the priest-poet gave origin to the biographer, whose narratives
being extended to less sacred persons became secularised. Stories
of the apotheosised chief or king, joined with stories of his com-
panions and amplified by narratives of accompanying transactions,
formed the first histories. And from these accounts of the doings
of particular men and groups of men, partly true, but passing by
exaggeration into the mythical, came the wholly mythical or
fiction which then and always preserved the biographico-historical
character. Add to which, that out of the criticisms and reflexions
scattered through this personal literature an impersonal literature
slowly emerged, the whole group of those products, having as
their deepest root the eulogies of the priest-poet."
Not only is the poet, the biographer, and the novelist an offshoot
from the priestly class, but the man of science as well. The priest
in order to extend his influence was stimulated to acquire know-
ledge of natural actions and the properties of things. In this
manner the priest became the primitive man of science, and also
the primitive philosopher. His investigations into the nature of
things led him to inquire into the causes of things and to con-
struct a general conception of the world. The judge, the teacher,
the architect, the painter, are all evolved from the priest. Every-
where the process of professional evolution exhibits the same
characteristics. Out of one primitive class there comes, by pro-
gressive divergences, many classes. Each of these classes passes
through the same developmental process as the parent class.
The line of advance is always from an indefinite homogeneity to a
definite heterogeneity. The part of Mr. Spencer's volume which
deals with Professional Institutions is a very able piece of work.
Criticism might be directed towards points of detail, but in deal-
ing with the work of a writer who covers such a vast field we
must be content and grateful when his fundamental contentions
are correct.
Industrial Institutions in their development follow the same line
as Professional Institutions specialisation increases with the grow-
ing complexity of industry. Mr. Spencer traces the process of
specialisation in a masterly manner. In an admirable chapter on
Compound Free Labour he very truly points out that the growth
of the mechanical arts and of industrial organisation, while in some
respects beneficial, is in other respects detrimental to the life
and character of the artisan. The factory hand, in particular,
loses heavily as a man. By the perfecting of machinery, more
and more of his bodily powers are rendered superfluous. As the
sphere of human agency is diminished the workman becomes
more automatic. The monotonous attention required by his occupa-
'244 CRITICAL NOTICES:
tion unduly taxes certain parts of the nervous system and entails
positive as well as negative injury. While his mental nature is
being deformed his physical nature is being degraded, owing to
oscillations of temperature in a vitiated atmosphere, and also
owing to the unnatural attitudes in which the work has to be per-
formed. "If we compare his life with the life of the cottage
artisan he has replaced, who a century ago having a varied
muscular action in working his loom, with breaks caused by the
incidents of the work, was able to alternate his indoor activities
with outdoor activities in garden or field, we cannot but admit
that this industrial development has proved extremely detrimental
to the operative. In their social relations too there has been an
entailed retrogression rather than a progression. The wage-earn-
ing factory hand does, indeed, exemplify entirely free labour, in so
far that making contracts at will, and able to break them after
short notice, he is free to engage with whomsoever he pleases and
when he pleases. But this liberty amounts in practice to little
more than the ability to exchange one slavery for another ; since
fit only for his particular occupation he has rarely an opportunity
of doing anything more than decide in what mill he will pass the
greater part of his dreary days. The coercion of circumstances
often bears more hardly on him than the coercion of a master
does on one in bondage."
Trade unions Mr. Spencer considers to be necessary in the
existing conditions of civilisation. He believes that they prevent
employers from doing many unfair things, that they act as a
check on the aggressiveness of the employer, that they compel
him to raise wages more quickly than he would otherwise do, and
that they raise the status of the workman. In addition to these
advantages trade unions give a useful social discipline to their
members, and have the effect of preparing them for such higher
forms of social organisation as will probably hereafter arise. But
the master-and-workman type of industrial organisation is not an
ideal type, and might, under certain conditions, be superseded by
a system of co-operative production in which merit and reward
would be more nearly adjusted. But the practicability of the co-
operative system depends on character. Higher types of society
are made possible only by higher types of nature. The best in-
dustrial institutions are possible only with the best men.
Co-operation is one method of regulating labour. Socialism is
another method, and Mr. Spencer is of opinion that the funda-
mental point at issue between socialists and anti-socialists con-
cerns the mode of regulating labour. Under a socialistic system
the regulators of labour would be a vast and highly organised
bureaucracy. This bureaucracy would be constituted on militant
principles, and would work on militant lines. It would ultimately
become a new aristocracy. It would be much more formidable
and despotic than the old aristocracy, inasmuch as it would
possess much greater powers. At the present time Mr. Spencer
WM. CALDWELL, Schopenhauer' s System, etc. 245
considers that this new aristocracy is in process of formation, and
that liberty will perish under its iron heel. He believes, and
rightly, that the rule of an official caste, if it ever becomes a
reality, will differ as much from what socialist theories contem-
plate as the ' ' rich and proud ecclesiastical hierarchy of the middle
ages differed from the groups of poor and humble missionaries
out of which it grew". The only hopeful outlook for society in
Mr. Spencer's view is the federation of the highest nations for the
purpose of maintaining peace. The formation of the peace-main-
taining federation would provide the conditions by which men
may adjust themselves to each other and to their surroundings.
This process of adjustment is at present being perpetually hin-
dered by anti-social conflicts. Until these conflicts cease the final
stage of evolution, consisting in an equilibrium between inner
faculties and outer requirements, will not be attained.
Mr. Spencer sees more clearly than any other thinker of
eminence in the present generation that there is an irreconcilable
antagonism between the growth of militancy and the march of
human progress. It is to be hoped that his opinions on this sub-
ject will produce an impression on the public mind. His profound
remarks on the characteristics and tendencies of bureaucracy are
equally valuable and opportune. In fact, the whole volume is
replete with wisdom and suggestiveness. It amply maintains Mr.
Spencer's reputation as the most influential living thinker in the
English-speaking world. ^ r -^ , ,
W. D. MOBKISON.
Sclwpenhauer' s System in its Philosophical Significance (Shaw
Fellowship Lectures, 1893). By WM. CALDWELL, M.A.,
D.Sc. Edinburgh and London : Blackwood & Sons, 1896.
Pp. x., 538.
THE author, who has left Scotland, logic and metaphysic, to fill
the chair of moral and social philosophy at North-western Uni-
versity in the State of Illinois, presents us, in this bulky but
well-printed volume, with the expanded outcome of his Shaw
course and other series of lectures, in the shape of several philo-
sophical essays. Each chapter, except the first and last, which are
general in character, deals with some leading aspect of Schopen-
hauerism. Each chapter, at the same time, is intended to some
extent to reflect the system as a whole. The result of this method
of procedure is that while each chapter is almost microcosmic in
its relative independence of the rest, the book, as a whole, suffers
from a want of clearly-felt organic continuity, as well as from a
great deal of reiteration. The reader, however, whether persever-
ing or not, will not fail to be favourably impressed with the digni-
fied sagacious spirit in which Professor Caldwell has combined
wide and deep criticism of a philosophy which, on the face of it,
246 CRITICAL NOTICES:
is a tour de force in self-contradiction, with an appreciative dis-
cernment of the pregnant truth and force in it. Possibly the
study of ethics and " social philosophy " tend, in general, to impart
a sympathetic and magnanimous tone to criticism. Dwelling, on
the one hand, much upon ' the good,' the ethicist seeks the resul-
tant felicific influence in a system in spite of flaws, and interprets
and complements it in keeping with his own beliefs and aspirations
regarding the bettering of the world. On the other hand Volker-
psychologie sees in the individual thinker the efflorescence of a
tendency on which he is borne along and thus, understanding him
in the light of larger conditions, forgives. At any rate, Professor
Caldwell's conviction is that Schopenhauer, in his theory of will,
had hold of " the key which unlocks all reality for us, the explana-
tion of the whole visible and tangible world" (p. 473), but that,
owing to the drift of tradition and the bent of his individual dis-
position, he had neither insight enough nor courage enough to
work out the true and far-reaching implications of that theory.
He holds that, "viewed in its realistic and positive and non-
polemical aspects, Schopenhauer's philosophy is simply an im-
manent evolutionism in which the effort (natural in the case of the
animals, and spiritualised in the case of man) of all organised
existence after life and more life is made out to be the supreme
characteristic of the world ". " And this view of the system is the
only one that the world at large will chronicle as distinctively
Schopenhauer's view of things " (p. 493). Here again, the thought
" that the reality of the world and of the individual consists in
will," that " the significance of the world is ethical," naturally
appeals with great cogency to an ethicist ; and the main burden
of these essays is to unfold the full content of that thought, and
to vindicate its claims against the philosophy of the Idea that
culminated in Hegel. They remind us that philosophy, since
Descartes, has made too little account of the supreme all compris-
ing fact of action, too much account of man's reflective doubts
about his action. Had Descartes but started with Ago ergo sum!
If philosophy is to be regarded, not merely as the study of thought,
but as a general systematisation of all knowledge, it cannot afford
to neglect action and events ; it must deal with tendencies emerg-
ing in action, and not only with the history of ideas. And, in so
far as it is concerned with knowledge as real, it must face the fact
that " our test of reality is the possibility of a thing affecting our
will". "Every being knows about the world just what is in
dynamic relation to his will and activity " (p. 99).
But Schopenhauer was a philosopher in the older sense of the
word " one trying to solve the problem of the essence of all
things ". Thus he walked, for all his originality and independ-
ence, in a line with tradition, and its influence weighed heavily
on him. To this, according to Professor Caldwell, is due all that
is or will be sterile in his thought, and all its many inherent con-
tradictions. And the task of interpreting his philosophy resolves
WM. CALDWELL, Schopenhauer' s System, etc. 247
itself, in this book, into a series of attempts to reconcile those con-
tradictions where possible. This is not easy, nor indeed always
desirable in the case of one who, as the interpreter admits, never
concerned himself about the mutual consistency or inconsistency
of one fetch of his thought with another, nor measured the success
of a philosophy by its logical symmetry. He left it to the Charla-
tanerei of his great contemporary (likened by the author, with a
flicker of humour, to a kind of metaphysical Zollverein of Germany)
to make reality square with (Hegelian) thought. Schopenhauer
sought to square thought with reality a matter for progressive
adjustment and re-adjustment. It is true that he is accused,
some pages later, of desiring "to get, at all costs, a philosophical
synthesis " (p. 337).
Letting this pass, we may note how the author faces the task he
has set himself. " The whole enigma of his philosophy," we read
(p. 26), " and the whole contradiction that his life was, depend on
his mental effort to reconcile these two positions that of a philo-
sophy which says, first a metaphysic or theory and then action,
and that of nature which says, first action and then theory."
" The world was cleft for him into two halves (Will and Idea, or
noumenon and phenomenon) which could never be brought into
vital relation with each other " (p. 271 et passim). We are also
told, the supreme contradiction in Schopenhauerism is the confusion
it exhibits " between the critical and the dogmatical methods of
philosophising," while its hardest problem is the effort to reconcile
" Schopenhauer's teaching on instinct and passion with his noto-
rious belief in what he called genius and the pure insight of
genius "'. So hopeless indeed do these labours seem to be, that our
author (incidentally) stigmatises Schopenhauer's philosophy of
reality as, "at the outset, logical or irrational, and, in the end,
mystical and inarticulate," his theory of art as too ontological and
rigid, his treatment of religion as lacking in "intellectual content "
and " objective reality," and his ethical philosophy (if its termino-
logy and notions be tested by analysis and historical criticism) as
one that falls to pieces in our hands. Yet, on the ground already
given, Professor Caldwell argues for a broad acceptance as a whole
of Schopenhauer's teachings about life. His philosophy of will
was the Nemesis that overtook the philosophy of the Absolute
Idea ; and though his conception of will as merely automatic
impulse and bare conation was inadequate and undeveloped,
though in it he merely set up another Ding-an-sich in place of the
psyche he swept away, or the intellect that he reduced to pheno-
menon, yet, by suggesting " a path along which the reality of the
world, as a whole, can best be understood," by arousing philosophy
to listen to the pulse of the life of the world, he was the pioneer
of a juster, because of a more dynamically conceived synthesis of
things.
Among the causes that let and hindered Schopenhauer, in Pro-
fessor Caldwell's opinion, from achieving a rational and noble
248 CKITICAL NOTICES:
synthesis were his idealistic standpoint, his contempt for and
ignorance of history, and his negation of the positive import of
feeling. To the inadequacy and danger of Idealism the author
recurs with unwearying persistence. It is this, he finds this excess
of the idealistic temperament fostered by the trend of eighteenth
century philosophy that in Schopenhauer leads to illusionism, and
so to pessimism. If the world is only an idea in my mind or,
by analogy, an effort of my will it is, for all practical purposes, a
world of illusion ! Even the reality of subjective facts may come
to be despaired of if that of things as external be questioned long
enough. Schopenhauer, it is true, distinguished his own so-called
4 transcendental idealism,' " welche die empirische Realitdt der Welt
unangetastet Idsst" from ' empirical idealism,' and would hereby
seem to have guarded his position. But his critic is an ardent
Eealist and is not content, accusing him of mixing up three
kinds of idealism and arguing from any one of them. That the long
arm of Substantialism, that child of hoary Animism, had its grip
of Schopenhauer is not so forcibly brought out, though here and
there (e.g. p. 449) it is virtually made explicit. But the emphasis
is ever on the disastrous frivolity of the philosopher who lets go
his hold upon that Proteus, reality. The author's impatience finds
vent now in assertion, now in argument. As Eeid bade us open
our eyes and see and as Berkeley had urged likewise, in order to
arrive at the opposite conclusion so he exhorts his readers to
trust that things ' ' are what they appear to be to our conscious-
ness". For this reason, that "thought is not outside things but
latent in them ". As my thought " comes out of my organic con-
sciousness," so does this come out of the organic life of the world.
The world is never to be thought of as something over against our
consciousness. Nor is it any reason for refusing to admit that we
really know things because, to become fact or idea, they have to
become mental constructions for some one.
Next, that Schopenhauer regarded feeling not as a positive
phase of mind, not, as Professor Caldwell puts it, as a mediator
between will and intellect, but as the mere negation of intellect, is
also, according to the latter, a cause of much " gaping opposition"
and illusionism. We feel so much more of reality than we know.
Quietism, rest, intellectual calm, so attracted him that just as he
recoiled from the ceaseless working of his will-to-live, he failed no
less to discern and develop the import of feeling for his dynamic
standpoint. Feeling, he held, waits upon the will-to-live ; we
don't do things because they please us; we find or don't find
pleasure in what we are impelled to do ; and there was an end of
it. This negative attitude made Schopenhauer ill-fitted to deal
with the receptive side of aesthetic experience, just as his theory
respecting the escape in aesthetic enjoyment from the will spoilt
his view of the nature of artistic production.
Professor Caldwell justly remarks that a metaphysic of art is all
very well in its way, but requires a preliminary psychology of the
WM. CALDWELL, Schopenhauer s System, etc. 249
artistic impulse. Indeed, it may possibly strike the reader as he
comes across fragments of psychological consideration throughout
this book, that to have collected and expanded these in one prole-
gomenal essay, would have afforded a most instructive criticism
of Schopenhauer, supplemental to, and more specialised than,
Professor Sully's admirable criticism of the confused psychology
of modern pessimists in his Pessimism. Crude Schopenhauer's
psychology is, but that would not detract from the interest of the
analysis. On the ' five ' senses Schopenhauer is no advance on
Aristotle ; and it is noteworthy that a mind so possessed with the
ultimate significance of activity, and whose term of work lay
between the age of Thomas Brown and Professor Bain, should
have had nothing to say concerning muscular sense proper or the
"consciousness of activity put forth". He might possibly have
found a better "mediating element" here than even in feeling
(in the strict sense of the word) to heal his pet conflict between
will and idea.
Finally, it strikes our author as strange that a philosophy of the
will should not have sought to connect itself more organically
with the philosophy of history. He charges Schopenhauer with a
vandalism in his historical allusions, which took this and left that
without any respect for the organic character of knowledge as a
whole. And he frequently points out how this contempt has
avenged itself in Schopenhauer's shortened vision how he failed
to see in history that rational will which is the best negation of
the merely blind Will in which he saw the essence of all reality.
" That there is a history of the world is a justification of the
world, because it means that the world has attained to something"
the author here not only citing but unconsciously improving on
the German epigram in which history only brings the world to
its own judgment bar (Weltgericht).
This callousness to history in Schopenhauer he attributes to a
radical defect in his mental constitution, or, more positively ex-
pressed, to his view of time as a mere subjective process, history be-
ing ' in ' time. Much, indeed, has the Transcendental Analytic here
to answer for, though it scarcely seems responsible for Schopen-
hauer's arbitrary dismissal of the evolution of history (unnoticed
by Professor Caldwell) on the ground that an eternity of time
having already elapsed, everything that could happen has hap-
pened ! (Welt., etc., i., bk. iv.).
Elsewhere, as we know, Schopenhauer is more discriminating,
rejecting untenable claims made for history, while holding it to
fulfil the function of a collective reason of humanity. And it may
be questioned perhaps how far he may justly be called Vandal
who, first of modern philosophers, did not arbitrarily confine him-
self in the matter of the history of earlier ideas, to the basin of the
Mediterranean, but, with much toil, broke out of the groove to
discover what all early civilisations had thought and desired.
What metaphysician since, what philosophic historian, has pro-
250 CRITICAL NOTICES:
fited by greater facilities than Schopenhauer ever had, adequately
to carry on the extended scale of consideration initiated by
him ? In Pessimism, Buddhism is described as pessimism pure
and simple a statement that careful inspection might, or might,
not, render untenable, but which, if true, would seem rather
to call for a whole chapter to its substantiation than for barely a.
page. Juster proportion is observed by the late Professor Wallace
in the Encyclopedia Britannica, yet, in his biography of Schopen-
hauer, this author, instead of observing Schopenhauer's care to
discriminate between Brahmanism and Buddhism, attributes to
Gotama an animism and a pantheism which he was ever most,
emphatic in denouncing (p. 210).
Schopenhauer is perhaps too positive as to the essential identity
of his teaching with that of Buddha. The latter's doctrine of the
impermanence of all things hardly squares either with the former's
idealism or illusionism (Maya is a later theory, not Buddhistic in
origin). Gotama accepted the testimony of sense, but never saw in
it ' surface ' concealing a deeper reality. His doctrine of ' grasping '
or ' craving,' involving animate things in re-birth, is no doubt virtu-
ally the equivalent of the will-to-live, but there was no noumenal
self affirmed for either it or Karma. And while neither thinker
was optimist, if it be optimistic to be "perfectly well contented
with things as they are," Gotama was not pessimistic as to man's
individual capacity of working out his own salvation of perfect
holiness and happiness here below. Professor Caldwell, however,
rightly refuses to label Schopenhauerism as mere pessimism. He
might, indeed, have given point to this repudiation by glancing at.
passages fraught with a very different meaning. Schopenhauer
may account most of us to be mistakes, something that had better
not have been, yet one who could, as he did, aspire towards a
time " when mankind would attain to such a maturity of intel-
lectual development as to be able to produce and to receive true
philosophy and do without creeds " (Parerga, 2te Aufl. Frauenstadt,.
ii., 361) is, in the best sense of the word, an optimist.
"Die Menschheit will vorwarts, der Wahrheit zu, die Gd)igel-
bdnder reissen," nor shall the powers that be thrust him back,,
runs one of his briefer utterances. Yet the main drift of his-
philosophic deductions warrants Professor Caldwell' s verdict, that,
inverting Hegel's method, he always seems to be explaining the
higher by the lower (p. 519). These rare chords of hope and faith
are scarcely heard in the tragic symphony of will-to-live with its.
involution of folly and trouble, evil and pain and death, and with
the resultant mandate to the wise man to crush out in himself
the least stirring of the great motive principle. What was in-
volved in the advantage Schopenhauer threw away, what that
finer, because truer, superstructure of philosophical deduction
might have been (had he thoroughly grasped the full signifi-
cance of his advanced standpoint in recognising the claims of
will) this in a critical treatise Professor Caldwell does, not do
VON JUL. BERGMANN, Die Grundprobleme der Logik. 251
more than adumbrate and suggest. He restricts himself to de-
claring " the significance of the line of thought which led to the
substitution of will as a world-principle instead of reason". For
instance we read : Schopenhauer claimed in his principle of will
to have united Thales and Socrates, the cosmical and the ethical
order, to have found in nature a basis for conduct ; and cer-
tainly " by placing the reality of human personality," not in any
theory of subject and object, but in will or functional activity,
he puts himself in line with the teaching of evolution, which
points to attainment in the scale of being as the result of much
struggle and effort, till the ethical man is developed for whom
" to will endlessly is to aspire endlessly " (pp. 28, 29). We may,
therefore, gather that what Schopenhauer overlooked was the fact
that, in the untiring indomitable self-recuperating movement of
will lies the very source and fount of a reasonable faith in the
melioration of the race. As Professor Sully puts it, " the
pessimist falls into the blunder of supposing that this will is the
parent, instead of the natural and necessary foe, of life's misery "
(op. cit., p. 210). Achievement may fall short of intention, both in
quantity and quality ; but where men aspire there also they will
achieve, and, in the long run, achieve in the cause of morality.
Gotama discerned better than his first great western disciple the
ethical import of this tremendous conational stream, and sought
not to quench will but to divert it from mere will-to-live, that is,
from being spent on mere quantity instead of quality of life.
Energy, effort, aspiration and self-control were of no less account
in his ethics than knowledge, insight and emotion.
And we are not now going to get suddenly wise by substituting
"pantheism for panlogism ". There are, as Professor Caldwell
says, other things in the world besides willing and rushing and
striving. But many would await with interest the fuller exposi-
tion in a more purely constructive work of the issues involved in
the juster standpoint opened up, according to these essays, by
Schopenhauer.
C. A. F. EHYS DAVIDS.
Die Grundprobleme der Logik. Von JUL. BERGMANN. Zweite
vollig neue Bearbeitung. Berlin : E. S. Mittler und Sohn,
1895. Pp. 232.
THIS book is a second and improved edition of Dr. Bergmann's
work bearing the same title, which was published thirteen years
ago, in elucidation of parts of his previous book Heine Logik
(reviewed in MIND, Jan., 1880).
The present edition of Grundprobleme der Logik contains an
Introduction of some thirty pages, and two Parts, namely (1)
Thought and Knowledge in general ; (2) Advance in Knowledge.
252 CRITICAL NOTICES:
The Introduction discusses the Scope of Logic, Formal and
Metaphysical Logic, The Nature of Cognition and the Divisions
of Logic. The author begins by insisting that Logic is concerned
not simply with the Laws of correct thinking, with Thought as
it ought to be, but with thinking generally in reference to its
inherent fitness for attaining the ends of knowledge and science,
and the means which appertain to those ends. Thinking (Denken)
is the same as judging (Urtheilen), namely, the mental activity
to the products of which the epithets true and untrue are ap-
plicable. But mere thinking is not Cognition. Cognition is
thinking w T hich is true and is on right grounds, or, by reason of
adequate evidence, believed to be true.
It may be remarked here that the distinction between Thinking
and Cognition, and the division of Judgments which we get on
these lines do not seem, from the point of view of logical doctrine,
to be theoretically elucidating or practically applicable. We might
draw T the line between isolated judgments and judgments taken
in connexion with others ; between those proved and those not
proved or (perhaps) between those proved true and those proved
untrue ; but if Cognition includes only judgments proved true,
where are judgments proved untrue to be placed ? they seem to
be neither Cognition nor mere thinking. And we cannot tell
w r hether the Judgments of others are true and proved, in cases
where we do not know the grounds on which they hold them.
Again, we cannot apply the distinction to beliefs of our own
which we accept on what seem to us sufficient grounds. Whether
we divide " Judgments " into true and untrue, or reserve the
appellation for those Predications which are true, we seem to
reach the result that a Predication accepted by both A and B
as true, may be true in A's case and untrue in B's.
However, there is no doubt that what we ask concerning judg-
ments, qua, mere isolated judgments, is not what they ought to
be, but what they actually are. What is it that w y e do in judging ?
is here the question ; and thus there seems good ground to accept
the rectification of current definitions of Logic w T hich Dr. Berg-
mann suggests.
Logic, as he conceives it, is contrasted on the one hand with
(1) Formal, on the other hand with what is called (2) Meta-
physical, Logic. Kant is mentioned as the principal exponent
of Formal Logic, Trendelenburg and Harms as writers who treat
Logic as metaphysical ; and Ueberweg as a logician whose treat-
ment has been much influenced by their view. Hegel's Logik
is pronounced to be pure Metaphysics and not Logic at all in the
traditional sense of that term.
Bergmann gives (p. 17) his own view of the relation between
Logic and Metaphysics as follows : " Logic is, in other words,
the Science of the process of Knowledge, whilst Metaphysics has
to do with the content of Knowledge. . . . Logic and Meta-
physics are so far connected that each requires the help of the
VON JUL. BERGMANN, Die Grundprobleme der Logik. 253
other for the solution of its own problem. The problem of Logic
cannot be solved without the help of Metaphysics. For Logic
aims at a knowledge of the correct and normative forms of
thought ; but only those forms can be correct which correspond
to the content of thought ; hence in order to know them, it is
necessary to understand them in their relation to Being, to the
object of thought ; and this can only be done by help of the
Science of Being, i.e., of Metaphysics. And conversely, Meta-
physics depends just as much upon Logic and cannot be treated
in isolation from it, for Being is but the presupposition and raw
material of knowledge, and cannot be comprehended apart from
Knowledge."
Of what is ordinarily called Material or Inductive Logic, the
author can hardly be said to treat, as it only comes in for a very
cursory discussion along with Probability, Analysis and Analogy
in 33, with occasional isolated references elsewhere, as when
he says (p. 139) that the only really fallacious Immediate Infer-
ences are those called Formal.
" The problem of Inference," it is observed by Mr. Bernard
Bosanquet, " is something of a paradox. Inference consists in
asserting as fact or truth, on the ground of certain given facts or
truths, something which is not included in those data. We have
not got inference unless the conclusion (i.) is necessary from the
premisses, and (ii.) goes beyond the premisses. To put the para-
dox quite roughly we have not got inference unless the con-
clusion is (i.) in the premisses, and (ii.) outside the premisses."
This problem lies at the very heart of Logic, and the problem of
differentiation in unity which meets us in the theory of Judg-
ment is in essence the same. The present book of Dr. Berg-
mann's may be described as a gallant attempt to overcome the
paradox indicated, in the various forms in which it appears in
logical theory.
This comes out in his treatment of Judgment as contrasted
with Idea or Concept (he treats Vorstellung and Begriff as synony-
mous) in his distinction between Affirmative and Negative Judg-
ments, in his Division of Judgments and very strikingly in his
account of Analytic and Synthetic Judgments, and of Immediate
Inferences. We find again the same effort after a true unification
in his discussion of the Principle of Ground, and its relation to
the Laws of Thought and other fundamental logical laws, and
in his view of Mediate Inference.
And it is the same aim which animates his strenuous and re-
peated efforts (in 8, 19, 26) to unify Thought and Existence,
by exhibiting Knowledge ( = Truth) as Thought which has been
guaranteed by an appeal to Being.
It is not of course possible within the limits of this notice to
discuss Dr. Bergmann's views on all these points, or others to
which, in his short preface, he makes special reference. I have
selected a few of them for examination.
254 CRITICAL NOTICES:
"In every judgment (we are told) something is affirmed or
denied of something " ( 13) ; thus " every judgment contains as
its presupposition and basis the mere positing or ideating of an
object " (Gegenstand). (On the other hand there are many ideas
to the positing of which a number of judgments must have been
preliminary.)
But there is more in judgment than this, and a judgment (p. 69)
is not about the idea which it contains, but about the thing, which
that idea is the idea of. E.g., in the judgment that Ellipses are
conic sections, I go beyond the relations of extent which obtain
between the concepts of Ellipse and Conic Section, and so on,
and judge of the ellipses themselves, that they are conic sections.
Judgments are neither ideas nor combinations of concepts, and
cannot be resolved into such ( 14). Hence the meaning of
Judgment cannot be elucidated by a mere reference to the mean-
ing of Concept. Judgment, like Vorstellung, is unique, and can-
not be explained by reference to anything other than itself. We
may say, however, that every judgment which affirms of any
thing or class of things, refers, to the subject of which it judges,
some determination, which may indeed be the content of another
concept, but need not necessarily be so. If a determination is
referred to a thing, the thing is of course thought (ideated, con-
ceived of), as with this determination. Thus the determination
predicated in an universal affirmative judgment always makes part
.of the content of the notion which the person judging has of the
subject of his judgment (p. 72). As already pointed out, Bergmann
distinguishes between Predication and Judgment or (as he also
expresses it) between a wider and a narrower sense of Judgment.
Predication or Judgment in the wider sense, means the mere
reference of a determination to a Subject. This reference is
necessary for judgment in the narrower sense, in which there is
explicit acceptance or rejection, explicit recognition of the validity
or invalidity, of the reference which constitutes the predication
thus within the sphere of Judgment in the narrower and proper
sense, we get the distinction between affirmative and negative
judgments.
Every judgment in the narrower sense, says Dr. Bergmann,
contains first, an idea that is, the positing of an object second,
a predication that is, the reference of an ampliative determina-
tion to an ideated object ; third, a critical attitude towards this
Predication, a decision concerning its validity.
The above view of negation involves that before I can assert
S is not P, I must have before me the suggestion S with P, or
S is P, and reject it as affirmation in the truest sense involves
that I must have before me the same suggestion and accept it.
(Could we not equally well start with S is not P, and get denial
or affirmation by means of its acceptance or rejection ?)
No doubt before P can be either affirmed or denied of S, the
ideas of S and P must be before the mind, as not only simul-
VON JUL. BERGMANN, Die Grundprobleme der Logik. 255
taneous but contrasted; but if of affirmation and negation one is
psychologically or historically prior to the other, I would suggest
that it is negation and not affirmation that is primary. Before I
can say S is P I must have distinguished S qua S from P qua P,
so that S 'is P must have been preceded by S (qud S) is not P
(qua P).
It appears that S is P and S is not P deal with different orders
of relation. In S is P there is one ' object ' before the mind to
which the two determinations or ideas are referred. S and P are
in a certain way contrasted, and the unity of conjunction in one
thing or object is attributed to them. In S is not P, on the other
hand, not merely is there a contrast or comparison, but it is a
contrast between two mutually exclusive objects. There are two
' ideas ' in this case too, but they are distinguished not merely
as ideas or determinations, but also as being assigned to different
things.
This is not That, might be supposed to be the original form of
negative judgment, and exhibits clearly enough its essential
character as the simplest of relative judgments. And it is not
only presumably primary, but is implicated, throughout our con-
sciousness, in that distinction of things from one another which
is necessary for the apprehension of system and even of mere
plurality. No doubt, on further reflexion, further implications
as that This and That belong to one world or whole and elabo-
rate relations between negations and their corresponding affirma-
tions, are arrived at but these we need not now consider. If we
take the view that negative categoricals qud negatives are ' rela-
tive' propositions, while affirmatives qud affirmatives are 'absolute,'
we get an interesting starting point for the systematisation of all
Propositions as Absolute or Kelative.
Eeturning to Dr. Bergmann's view, we find that on the one
hand between Concept (or Idea) and Predication, and on the other
between Predication and Judgment Proper (which latter may be
described as a judgment about a judgment), the line is not clearly
drawn for if a predication is more than a concept, is it less than
a judgment? and whatever may be the characteristics of judgment,
if S is P is true expresses a judgment, does not S is P equally ex-
press one ?
Under the category of Judgments about judgments come Hypo-
theticals and Disjunctives, and in most of the instances adduced
of ampliative analytic judgments, the Predicate is an Immediate
Inference from the Subject (e.tj., The line from a to & = the line
from b to a) ; and Immediate Inferences and Categorical Syllo-
gisms are easily shown to be naturally expressible as Hypo-
thetical Propositions. And the blurring of the lines between the
different groups is here not due to the practical obstacle of the
occurrence of cases difficult to class precisely, but (I think) to the
author's view of the fundamental unity between Idea (Concept),
Predication, Judgment and Inference. What one does not feel
256 CRITICAL NOTICES:
quite sure of here is, what kind of unity it is that is supposed to-
connect the different elements. Such a qualitative unity as holds
together, e.g., the different species of triangle seems rather to be
suggested. But there are other kinds of unity of which some
seem more appropriate to the present case than the merely quali-
tative kind just referred to which, whatever its importance, is
certainly not directly applicable to every judgment.
According to Bergmann we have Immediate Inference when
from one judgment or proposition we pass to another having the
same (or part of the same) matter (Sachverhalt) but a different
way of looking at it (Auffassung). Thus, from All S is P, Some
P is S is an Inference but Some S is P is not an Inference from
All S is P.
But is not this (and cf. other cases) an arbitrary distinction ?
Must we not say that wherever there is an Inference of one
proposition from another, one of the two propositions is true if
the other is true, and there must be some difference between
them?
But, what difference ? What constitutes them two different
propositions ? It seems to me that the only answer is, Any
difference for it would appear that -some difference of thought,
however slight, must correspond to every difference of expression
so that we should get the definition : If any two propositions
differ in any respect, and one of them is true if the other is true,
the first is an inference from the second. It does not do to say
simply that there is Unity in Difference between the two proposi-
tions compared. There is also unity in difference between S
and P of any Categorical Proposition, and between This pencil
and That pencil, and these are only two out of the kinds of unity
in difference which are possible.
What is it that is really at the bottom of any Inference ?
Let us take any case of an affirmative Categorical say All R
is (some) Q. The speaker here has in mind an object or group
of things having the characteristics signified by both R and Q
which may be symbolised by W| or (^ . Q) ; it is the R's that are
Q that he is referring to, and the things that are both JR and Q
may be indicated as Q's which are R, or E's which are Q thus
we justify conversion in the case of affirmatives. And any one of
the R's is Q, since all are. It does not appear clear why this
passage from A to I should be refused the name of Inference,
which (by Bergmann) is allowed to the change called Conversion.
There may be quite as truly a change of Auffassung in passing
from All R is Q (1) to This R is Q (2), as in passing from (1)
to Some Q is R (3) ; and in (3) also we assert concerning only a
part of the Sachverhalt referred to in (1).
It seems here that Identity of Application (in conjunction of
course with the plurality and connectedness of attributes that
VON JUL. BEEGMANN, Die Grundprobleme der Logik. 257
everything has) is, as it were, the pivot on which Inference turns ;
and this comes out perhaps even more strongly in the case of
syllogistic inference it is because of this that the presence of a
true Middle Term is the only condition necessary in order that
some conclusion may be drawn from any pair of premisses.
Bergmann allows that as regards syllogistic Inference there is
, All M is P) , Alia - -D
inference in passing from A n a AT \ *> All S is P.
All M is P)
But what is the Sachverhalt in (1) All M is P, (2) A 11 a -v/r f
respectively? In as far as the matter of fact is concerned it
would seem that what is before the speaker's mind in (1) is some-
thing which is both M and P, and what is before him in (2) is
something which is at the same time M and P and S. And there
would seem to be as much a difference of Auffassung between (1)
and Some (or This, etc.) M is P, as between (2) and All (or Some)
S is P. If difference of aspect or emphasis is all that is needed
for Inference, Sub-alternation seems as much inference as Conver-
sion ; if not, are not the conclusions of syllogisms in Figs. 1 and 2
not inferences, while the conclusion in the third and fourth Figures
are so ?
Dr. Bergmann's view of Analytic Judgments is a part of his
doctrine to which he draws special attention in the Preface, and it
is connected in an interesting way with other parts of his theory.
According to him, we can have ' Analytic ' Judgments which
" enlarge knowledge " ; that is to say, Judgments in which the Pre-
dicate, though in some sense ' contained ' in the Subject, yet adds
to the information conveyed by the Subject. He distinguishes (
20) between Analytic and Synthetic Judgments as follows :
"For the recognition of a Judgment as true or untrue, the
object [of the Judgment] need be brought up for comparison (1)
only in as far as it is set before the thinker by the Subject-notion
( = the notion which is the ground of the Judgment and is restricted
to its constitutive content) ; so that the predicated determination
though no part of the constitutive content of the Subject-notion
yet is, after a fashion, contained in it ; or (2) something more of
the object must be taken in than is included in the notion that
is the ground of the judgment in other words, there is needed
an intuition of the object which goes beyond the apprehension
of the bare Subject-notion. E.g., in order to recognise the truth
of the sentence 2 + 3 = 4 + 1 by mere comparison with its object,
this object need only be taken into account in so far as it
possesses the determination by which the Subject-notion of the
sentence marks it out as distinct from all other objects. Assuming
that the sum of 2 and 3 had other properties besides those
which are somehow contained in being this sum, these might
be entirely left out of account. And we might convince ourselves
in the same way of the untruth of the sentence :
The sum of 2 and 3 is not equal to the sum of 4 and 1.
17
258 CEITICAL NOTICES:
On the other hand, in order to prove the truth of the sentences
' This apple is sweet,' ' This apple is not sweet,' by comparison
with their object, it is not sufficient to contemplate in the object
that which is signified by the designation ' This apple,' namely, the
qualities on account of which I call a thing an apple, and the
relation to me, the speaker, which is expressed by the word
This ; I must add to these its taste [as sweet or not sweet] a
characteristic which is neither common to all apples, nor contained
in the relation expressed by the word This " (pp. 100, 101).
That in such Judgments as 2 + 3 = 4 + 1 there is amplification
need not be disputed, but whether such ought to be called Ana-
lytic is another question. It is certain that the idea of 2 + 3 is
not the idea of 4 + 1, and equally clear that whoever has before
him 2 + 3 things, has therein what is numerically equal to 4 + 1.
But it seems quite possible for a person to have arrived at count-
ing 2 and 3 without having arrived at counting 4 as it is possible
for him to have perceived that two sides of a triangle are equal,
without having also perceived that that triangle must have the
angles at the base equal ; though no doubt further examination of
an isosceles reveals the further fact that it is, and must be, equal-
angled, that the ' object,' in as far as it has the first property,
must have the second. But the distinction and test by appeal to
the ' object ' and comparison with it of the notion or idea, seems
difficult ; for if the ' object ' is more or other than idea, then it
would seem that in any case the whole object with all its proper-
ties must be there, and any of its properties may be appealed to.
On the other hand, if Gegenstand=Vorstellung or Begriff, the test
seems arbitrary and ineffective.
And the truth or untruth of Analytic Judgments is tested by
reference to the ' real existence ' of their ' object '. But what
exactly is to be understood by ' real existence,' and by what test
can it be established in any given case ?
The whole treatment of Sein and its bearing upon Truth is one
of the most difficult and interesting portions of the book ; but I
fear I must admit that it is likewise among the least satisfactory.
It abounds however in close and penetrating thought, and is
worthy of very careful consideration. The book is one which
could not be read without both pleasure and profit by any thinker
interested in logical and philosophical investigation ; at the same
time it is difficult to do justice to it within the limits of a short
notice.
E. E. CONSTANCE JONES.
L' Immanence de la Eaison dans la Connaissance Sensible. Par
GE'DE'ON GOBY, Docteur es Lettres. Paris : Felix Alcan,
1896. Pp. 344.
I MAY best indicate the author's main contention by contrasting
with a truer view what seems to me to be its fundamental defect.
'
GEDEON GOBY, L'Immanence de la Raison, etc. 259
This defect is a confusion of the regressive process of thought by
which certain transcendental principles are found implicit in
ordinary experience, with a process of mere abstraction. By the
latter process we arrive only at abstract products of thought
which we then attempt to make into determinations of realities
beyond experience. This is the "transcendent" use of Eeason
which is rightly declared by the author to be impossible ; but
apparently he has not considered the possibility of the other view.
The critical reflexion here I quote Dr. Caird "is not a process
by which we empty experience of certain elements which distort
its apprehension of things in themselves, but a process by which
we recognise behind and beneath experience certain elements of
which it does not usually take account ; though without these
elements experience could not apprehend anything, and for want
of the consciousness of them it does not apprehend anything as it
really is. Hence the object of the critical philosopher must be,
not to dismiss any of the elements of experience that he may find
the pure expression of truth in what remains [i.e., reason is not
transcendent in the sense intended by M. Gpry] : but rather to
correct our ordinary abstract and incomplete view of the world by
taking account of the factors which that view neglects." If this
line of thought is developed we are led to reject the thesis which
M. Gory, following Eenouvier and Taine, makes the basis of his
system : i.e., that " experience " or the " sensible representation "
is " spontaneous, independent, and absolutely true ". At the same
time we are led to reject the view of the thing-in-itself with which
Kant started, not, however, with M. Gory, in order to regard ex-
perience as self-contained : but in order to regard it as being in its
very nature an intelligible, but partial and fragmentary, revelation
of an absolute Reality. This line of thought is wholly ignored by
the author : presumably because so far as the evidence of this
book goes he appears to have no comprehension of the philo-
sophical principles developed by Kant's successors, or even of the
deeper elements in the Kantian philosophy itself.
His position is worked out as follows. The question which
Reason propounds is What is the ultimately Real? The Ideas
of Reason are the principles and predicates by which it endeavours
to interpret the nature of the Real ; hence the question, What is
the sphere of their legitimate derivation and application ? is the
question of philosophy. The Real is experience itself, in the
analysis of which the Ideas find their only just and legitimate
use : knowledge is simply the analytical development of the
"representation". This is the " Immanence of Reason ": "dire
que la Raison est immanente, c'est dire que 1'Etre lui-meme est
connu dans 1'experience, et qu'en dehors d'elle il n'y a d'aucune
realite ni aucune possibilite quelconque ; c'est dire que la Raison
peut trouver dans 1'experience une pleine et entiere satisfaction, et
que la pensee est capable de connaitre la vrite " (p. 4 ; cf. pp. 42,
43). On the other hand, to say that Reason is transcendent, is to
260 CRITICAL NOTICES:
say that experience is a mere phenomenon, veiling an unknowable
Beyond. This ready-made alternative exhausts all possibilities
for the author. The next question is, how are the Ideas to be
derived (degagees) from experience? M. Gory notices and rejects
the Kantian attempt to find them as limits of empirical series
(whose nature is to have no such absolute limits, -hence the
dialectical character of the Ideas with Kant) : and he substitutes
the method of " progression," a development of what is contained
in the sensible representation (des puissances qui sont en elle).
This can be continued indefinitely, in two opposite directions, at
present by imagination only ; but the notion of an infinite ex-
tension, or a finite limit, is quite inapplicable to the process, which
deals with what is presented or imagined only. The " representa-
tion," further, is not the unity of a manifold but is an immanent
unity (pp. 33-35), hence analysis alone can disengage its aspects,
not abstraction : we soon see, however, that it is analysis of
"abstract representations" which the author has in view, time,
space, substantiality, causality. The Ideas of Reason are only
the terms of abstract relations, used apart from those relations in
which alone they are thinkable. Proceeding to the analysis, we
find that the most abstract and universal aspects of experience
are, a principle whose nature is to determine, and one whose
nature is to be an object determined ; these are only thinkable in
distinction from each other, the thought by which we distinguish
the latter from the former is the same as that by which we dis-
tinguish the former from the latter. In experience, their correla-
tion assumes four forms : the mathematical point and the pure
continuum of space ; the mathematical instant and the pure
continuum of time ; the pure cause and the pure effect ; the pure
substance and the pure mode. Involved in these relations, as
manifested in experience, is a unity which is the synthesis of their
terms, and in which alone they are real ; this is the unity of con-
sciousness : not (as with Kant) a subjective form of synthesis, but
the immanent unity of every form which the fundamental correla-
tion assumes. Thus M. Gory, in his anxiety to uphold the
" immanence " of thought, has left no place for the real nature of
knowledge as a process of reference : the knowing and the known
become absolutely identical.
The author thinks that all systems of " pure metaphysic " have
the incurable vice of employing one or other of the Ideas as a
thinkable predicate of reality or realities beyond experience ; and
in his second and third divisions he proceeds with much ingenuity
to characterise and classify metaphysical systems from this point
of view, giving the outlines of a systematic pathology of philo-
sophic thought.
In the fourth and last division of the book he points out the
only "natural and legitimate" use of the Ideas, viz., in their
syntheses : for by these we are brought back to experience. The
synthesis of the ideas of the point and the spatial continuum,
GEDBON GOBY, L'Immanence de la Raison, etc. 261
gives the representation of a limited and determinate space, a
figure ; of the instant and the temporal continuum, a limited and
determinate time ; of this character are the only real spaces and
times, those of experience. Dialectic or antinomy arises only
when Eeason employs one side of the relation by itself, the
continuum only (the determined principle) or the point only (the
determining principle) : it is met by pointing out the necessary
implication of the other term of the relation, and so coming back
to experience. This is suggestive, and invites comparison with
the Hegelian doctrine that the Continuous and the Discrete imply
one another. With regard to pure cause and pure effect, their
mere synthesis in the causal relation is insufficient : this relation
corresponds to nothing real if we exclude finality from it : deter-
minate causality, the causality which is real or in experience, is
always for an end. Speaking of the Cartesians, M. Gory says :
" comme ils ecartaient rigoreusement les causes finales de 1'ex-
plication theorique du monde, ils reconnaissaient que, des lors, la
causalite dans le monde, loin d'etre absolument determinee, etait
absolument indeterminee, ... a cause de 1'independence des
moments du temps ; et c'est ainsi qu'ils etaient amenes a la
theorie de la creation continuelle " (p. 269). The only real cause,
then, is Consciousness. Similarly the determinate realisation of
the relation of Substantiality is in the unity of Thought. This
important doctrine of the necessary implication of an End in
causation springs up suddenly, from nowhere, in the author's
system. He might have considered whether End is not itself an
Idea of the Eeason ; whether much of the plausibility of his
attack upon the " transcendent " use of the Ideas does not arise
from the fact that he has taken account only of Ideas derived
from the mathematical and mechanical categories ; and, if so,
whether he need have concluded that the causality and sub-
stantiality of the thinking consciousness are only conceivable in
distinction from the Idea of a continuous indeterminate Matter
in the representation of the psycho-physical Organism (p. 272).
From this point onwards the author's ingenuity becomes more con-
spicuous than his insight. The Organism is the individual whole,
as such. In experience, in the concrete, the representations we have
been dealing with are all united : every substance is itself a cause
and fills a determinate space and time : this union constitutes the
individual whole. It is an entirely concrete synthesis, embracing
all the other syntheses. In experience, whatever is not a psycho-
physical Organism is a mere image or sensation without any
individuality, reality, or independence (p. 284). Eeason pro-
pounds the problem of explaining the organism. It can only do
so by means of two correlative Ideas, which must be such that by
abstraction all the other Ideas can be discovered in them. These
are the Ideas of the Perfect and the Infinite : the former being the
determining, the latter the determined. The author then proceeds
to give a description of the organism which at once reminds us of
262 CRITICAL NOTICES.
the Leibnitian monad (pp. 289, 295). The plurality of organisms
he seems to accept, and he recognises the difficulty of accounting
for one such being's knowledge of (mother, which breaks through
the "immanence of Reason" in the former (p. 290). After
rejecting Eenouvier's solution (that there is a universal whole,
finite and determinate, but at the same time inconceivable), he
takes our breath away by identifying the individual and the
universal whole, and ignoring even the appearance of difference
between them. We turn with something more than interest to
the one chapter which remains, to discover how the sea of diffi-
culties that surges round such a position is to be driven back :
but w~e find that only our curiosity, and nothing more, is satisfied.
I am forced to conclude that the author has only accomplished
a general demonstration of the irrationality of his fundamental
dogma the Immanence of Eeason as he understands it.
S. H. MELLONE.
VII. NEW BOOKS.
Elements <>f Psychology. By GEORGE GROOM ROBERTSON. Edited by
C. A. FOLEY RHYS DAVIDS, M.A. London : John Murray, Albemarle
Street, 1896. Pp. xi., 268.
Elements of General Philosophy. By GEORGE GROOM ROBERTSON. Edited
by C. A. FOLEY RHYS DAVIDS, M.A. London : John Murray, Albe-
marle Street, 1896. Pp. xiii., 365.
THE first of these works the Elements of Psychology is noteworthy on
more accounts than one. It is, almost from beginning to end, the repro-
duction from students' notes, of the late Prof. Groom Robertson's lectures
so successfully done that those who knew Robertson personally, feel, at
every turn, that he is here faithfully and accurately represented. This
is encouraging, surely, to toiling and desponding professors, who are
often haunted by the fear that their teaching is but imperfectly caught
by their pupils. But the book is further remarkable for its strict adher-
ence to the psychological standpoint, and its clear and methodical treat-
ment of the subject in hand tracing with much insight the growth and
development of the mind, and weaving into the exposition so much of
historical matter as is necessary for lucidity, and not overcrowding with
detail. It becomes, on this account, eminently suitable for the end that
the series of University Extension Manuals in which it appears has in
view.
In order, however, to judge it fairly, we must be ready to make one
or two allowances. We must not forget that there is nothing here pre-
pared for publication by Robertson himself ; nothing, therefore, that
received his own final revision. The consequence is that some things
are stated too bluntly particularly some criticisms on contemporary
writers ; and positions that are reiterated, or that crop up at various
points, are not always enunciated with the same degree of emphasis. It
is puzzling to a learner to find a statement made with confidence in one
place and thrown out tentatively, or rather timidly, in another. All this,
of course, would have disappeared had the author himself had the oppor-
tunity of revising. Several gaps also would have doubtless been filled in.
Robertson would not have allowed a work like this out of his hands
without some treatment of the psychological aspect of Cause and Causa-
tion ; nor would he have omitted, as is here done, to give some account
of Time and of Number. All this is mentioned simply in justice to
Robertson himself, who was, above all things, conscientiously exhaustive ;
not with any view to detract from the value of the production itself.
The standpoint throughout is, of course, that of Experientialism ; but
it is Experientialism in its ripest and most efficient form. Everywhere
there is shown a thorough acquaintance with and interest in the latest
psychological doctrines and researches ; and, no matter from what
264 NEW BOOKS.
quarter it comes, light is welcomed if it is found to be light, and new
truths have their bearings scrupulously canvassed, and their importance
estimated with reference to the lecturer's fundamental position. It will
here be seen, perhaps for the first time, precisely how far experientialism
has advanced within the present generation, and what power it still
possesses of meeting and adapting itself to the ever-altering circum-
stances of progressive thought. Nowhere is this better exemplified than
in the exposition of the place and importance of Muscular Sense, or Active
Touch, in the building up of our knowledge of an external world. Robert-
son is a doughty champion here with a due appreciation of all that is
freshest and best in recent writers on Psychology. This presentation
of the case will have to be specially reckoned with by assailants of the
general standpoint. Further than this there is no need for specializing.
All the processes connected with knowledge (Sensation, Perception, etc.),
are passed under review, and care is taken to keep distinct things that
differ (seen conspicuously in the handling of Sensation) ; and Feeling and
Will (or, as Robertson prefers to call it, Conation) are also handled, though
much less fully. The last lecture in the book (the thirty-sixth in number)
is on " Attention and the Ego ". Here alone does the treatment seem to
be inadequate. The vast importance of the subject of Attention demands
a fuller, and perhaps an earlier, exposition. In this place, however,
as elsewhere, the thought is fresh and the expression of it pointed ; and
of the whole work it may be said that it is essentially modern and
thoroughly well adapted to the requirements of the young students of
psychology of to-day.
The Elements of General Philosophy is, speaking broadly, a sustained
attempt (all the more welcome as it has scarcely before been done in
Britain) to keep Epistemology separate from Psychology, and to treat
the problems of Knowledge on the lines marked out by Kant. Indeed,
the work may be regarded as a kind of critical exposition of Kant ; show-
ing much appreciation of the Copernicus of philosophy, yet fully alive to
his weak points. Part i. consists of seventeen lectures on Philosophy
and Theory of Knowledge, to which are added two lectures, dealing re-
spectively with "Regulative Philosophical Doctrine" and "The Basis
and the End of Ethics " ; and Part ii. consists of ten lectures of a
special historical character dealing with Plato's Epistemology, Aris-
totle's Psychology, Descartes' Cartesianism, and Kant's Critical Philo-
sophy. But, in both parts alike, Kant is the leading and dominant
figure ; and all the questions are argued with an ultimate reference to
him. The result is that this second book comes as a kind of eirenicon
an attempt (wonderfully successful) at reconciling the views of opposing
schools in particular at reconciling Kantism and Experientialism. Tak-
ing experientialism in its latest and highest form, Robertson emphasizes
the two facts of Heredity and Language, and maintains that in these we find
the explanation of the a priori element in knowledge, which it was Kant's
great merit (as against Hume and the earlier Experientialists) to accentu-
ate ; yet not here alone. Let us see how the reconciling is done. Take,
for example, our knowledge of Space. Granting to the Association-
ists, especially to J. S. Mill and Prof. Bain, the important part that
Association plays here, Robertson will not allow that the connexion
between Extension and Colour is a case of "inseparable association".
Association gives only what is practically, not theoretically, inseparable.
In the connexion in question there is a "necessity" involved, which
Association does not account for. But, on the other hand, this " neces-
sity " is not mental or intellectual (as Kant maintains) but " organic " a
necessity of our constitution, and not of acquired experience. " If, con-
NEW BOOKS. 265
stituted as we are, some sense organs only are muscular, and if it is the
fact of muscularity whereby we have apprehension of extension, it be-
comes a necessity for us to have those sensations ' in ' space. We are so
ordered, through the mobility of our hands, eyes, etc., as to have those
sensations so. Here is the explanation of this necessity because of our
organic constitution. . . . "We make, we determine space ; we come to
know it by way of construction not of a priori construction, not of
spontaneity of thought, as Kant said, but by conscious bodily exertion,
not limited by occasions of passive sense-impressions [i.e., not had
merely by experience from without, but by activity of ours put forth,
springing from within]. And this is because we are what we are. We
are thrown back on our original constitution. Hence it is that the
science of Space is different from the inductive sciences of nature ; hence
it is that mathematics is a demonstrative science. The explanation
applies to all sciences in so far as they are demonstrative to arithmetic
and physics, e.g., as well as to geometry for all are, to that extent, con-
cerned with matter as apprehended by activity, by construction ; and
herein lies their ' necessity '. Other sciences we form piecemeal from
experience."
This being so, Robertson is willing to admit, with Kant, that Space,
although not itself a simple experience, is a " form " : all simple sensa-
tions come to have a reference to it. But he denies that it is a "pure
intuition ". His reason for this is, that it can be psychologically ex-
plained. Furthermore, he maintains, as against Kant, that space is no
universal form of external sensation. True, " every sensation does come
to have some kind of spatial reference more or less". But "there is
all the difference in the world of DEGREE. For that difference of degree
we must account in detail, and this puts a check on our agreeing with
Kant's superficial assertion, that space is form for all sensations alike.
Do the notes in the scale of an octave or in a chord appear to us spread
out in space like the colour-spectrum ? It is true that we should hear
them as 'in space,' yet the spatial order is very different."
Thus does Eobertson attempt to mediate between experiential psy-
chology and Kantian teaching. But he attempts also to conserve what
is good in discredited distinctions nearer home as, for example, in
the distinction between the primary and secondary qualities of Matter.
And, in dealing with Knowledge and Belief, he insists strongly that,
while from one point of view knowledge is requisite for belief, in another
aspect of it belief is presupposed in knowledge. Take the case of our
knowledge of external reality. This is impossible without the tacit
assumption of the uniformity of nature. But this tacit assumption is
simply belief. There is a lack here of that precision which usually
characterizes Robertson. The distinction should be drawn between
"belief" and "faith," and the latter term restricted to such primitive
trust, or native confidence, as we place in postulates. Were this done
a great deal of dispute mainly verbal, after all would be at once got
rid of.
It is very satisfactory that we have in this book so much about Kant
of whom Robertson made a special study, extending over many years.
It is a pity that we have not a similarly full account of Leibniz, to whose
doctrine of Monads, as expressing the ultimate philosophical analysis of
the universe, Robertson gave his adherence. We should have liked also
to hear more about Spinoza, whose Epistemology is one of the finest
things that the Cartesian School ever did, and whose psychological
^analysis of the Emotions in Part iii. of the Ethica scarcely finds a
parallel till we come to Dr. Thomas Brown and Professor Bain. But
266 NEW BOOKS.
these blanks cannot now be filled ; and they in no way detract from
the value of the matter that is here presented to us.
True to the Robertsonian tradition, Mrs. Rhys Davids has consulted
the convenience of the student, and has added to each of the manuals an
admirable index. WILLIAM L. DAVIDSON.
Juvenile Offenders. By WILLIAM DOUGLAS MORRISON. London : T-
Fisher Unwin, 1896. Pp. xi., 317.
This strong book deals widely with its subject. Juvenile crime is first
studied with reference to its extent and distribution, then as conditioned
by the sex, age, physical and mental state of the offender, as well as by
his family history and economic position. The treatment of juvenile
crime is the subject of the second part, which is divided into sections
dealing with admonition, fining, corporal punishment, imprisonment, and
corrective institutions. Much of the work is based on statistical returns,
but the author uses figures with discrimination, neither losing sight of
the variety and complexity of the conditions which rule a resulting total,
nor neglecting to give a convincing impression of the unit. We have
here a wide knowledge of the subject from the official point of view, in-
formed by an intimate practical acquaintance with convicted boys and
girls.
All the present methods of treatment are studied and all new sugges-
tions are made under one view of the juvenile offender that he is a
child whose character (rather than his isolated acts) is a danger to
society, and whose character must be stimulated and educated into
normal constitution. However crime should be treated in adults,
certainly the treatment of children must be therapeutic, and it is.
perhaps the chief interest of this work that it enters fully into every part
of its subject under this point of view. The author finds many features,
of our present system to be radically evil when they are tried by this
satisfying criterion. " The habitual criminal is in far too many cases a
product of prison treatment. . . . The value of prison regulations is not
to be tested by the behaviour of prisoners within the prison walls." A
thoroughly therapeutic treatment means an individualised treatment,
and the great practical difficulties which beset this individualisation are
the chief barrier in the way of a satisfactory advance in our methods.
This point, which recurs in several places but is chiefly worked out in
relation to the interdiction of certain localities of abode, notably large
cities, and in relation to the treatment of children in corrective institu-
tions, is made to yield certain valuable suggestions. Corrective institu-
tions should be small ; when unavoidably large they should be divided
into sections, and each section should be placed in charge of a superin-
tendent who will be able to acquire a thorough knowledge of the capacity,
disposition, and aptitudes of every individual child ; the bodily and mental
condition of every child should be the subject of a thorough examination
at stated intervals. Juvenile Offenders is easily read but not easily
forgotten, and it will be of service to many who take serious interest in
social matters. G. SANDEMAN.
Philosophy of Theism. Being the Gifford Lectures delivered before the
University of Edinburgh in 1895-96. Second Series. By ALEXANDER
CAMPBELL FRASER, LL.D. Edinburgh and London : Blackwood &
Sons, 1896. Pp. xiii., 283.
The first series of Prof. Eraser's Gifford Lectures was published last
year, and noticed in our April number. It was intended to " evoke our
NEW BOOKS. 267
latent sense of the mysterious infinitude of the ever-changing universe,"
and to contrast the chief modes of philosophy which undertake to
rationalise this awakened sense of mystery. Monism, in its three modes,
materialistic, panegoistic, and pantheistic, was examined and found to
involve universal nescience, and was abandoned in favour of a conception
of the universe of things and persons worked out on a homo mensura
principle and method, and in favour consequently of certain postulates
suited to man's place intellectually intermediate between omniscience
and mere sense. In the present series of lectures, this method is pursued
into its theistic achievements. Half the new volume is devoted to a
positive justification of theistic postulates, on the ground of man's
intellectual and moral nature and limitations, and half to the removal of
the contradictions which experience seems to offer to such postulates by
the presentation of evil along with good in the course both of natural
events and of human volitions. Prof. Fraser recognises the just
criticism made on ordinary psychological epistemology, that we are
there assuming we know something in order to prove that we do know
something, or do not know anything, as the case may be, but he contends
that it is a different thing to assume that something is knowable by man
before we proceed to show that not everything is knowable, that omnisci-
ence is beyond human reach. The arrest of the understanding before the
infinities is the opportunity for the play of our moral nature, which now
by an activity which may be distinguished as Faith brings us into rela-
tion both with cosmic order and with final goodness. The via media
between the impotence of mere empiricism represented by Hume, and
the over-confidence of rationalism represented by Spinoza, is a Philosophy
of Faith.
Prof. Fraser's references to theistic literature are comparatively
few, the circumstances of his lectureship having led him to attempt an
exposition of his own philosophical views on Theism, rather than a
critical discussion of current Theistic literature such as is attempted by
Mr. Lindsay in the book noticed below. His book is on this account
most valuable as an introduction to be used by all students of Theism,
and is of special interest to students of philosophy. Its usefulness is
increased by a good marginal analysis, by recapitulations judiciously
introduced into the text, and above all by the uniform use of clear and
restrained language.
Recent Advances in Theistic Philosophy of Religion. By JAMES LINDSAY.
Edinburgh and London : Blackwood & Sons, 1897. Pp. Ivi., 547.
This book takes a wider sweep than Prof. Fraser's. It includes,
besides a survey of the Philosophy of Theism in its stricter meaning, a
shorter estimate of what the author calls Philosophy of Natural Theology,
really the comparative psychology of Keligion ; and in his survey of what
he calls Theistic Philosophy of Eeligion (Man) occur several further
topics of Psychology, Functions of Reason, Personality, Freedom,
Immortality, etc., which have become associated with Theistic Philosophy
proper. But the distinctive claim of the book is its comprehensive
references to authorities. The author mentions, with a touch of con-
tempt, that " belated treatment of Theism which only loves to dilate on
the oft-criticised positions of Descartes, Hume, and Kant ". He proposes
rather to " view the new vast increase of knowledge with its wealth of
scientific result for theistic thought ". He quotes a great number of
recent authors, and criticises them by appeal to an assumed standard of
opinion vaguely designated as " recent Theism ". The quotations are
268 NEW BOOKS.
distributed, however, not in any historical or even classificatory scheme
of authorities, but under a logical scheme of topics which is intended as
a synthetic and constructive contribution to Theism. Such a method
may suit readers who wish to gain a superficial acquaintance with the
varieties of opinion prevalent on these topics, but to readers who wish to
qualify themselves to give a reason for the hope that is in them, Prof.
Eraser's method is far better.
Problems of Biology. By GEORGE SANDEMAN. London: Swan Sonnen-
schein & Co., 1896. Pp. 218.
This work is a philosophical criticism of the fundamental conceptions
which underlie such dogmatic theories of heredity and development as
those of Weismann, De Vries, Galton, Spencer, and others. The criticism
is philosophical, but it is entirely relevant even from a biological point of
view. The author finds everywhere in " dogmatic biology " the assump-
tion implied or expressed that the various " qualities " or characteristics
of organism are in their own intrinsic nature disconnected and indepen-
dent. Accordingly the theorists, whatever special view they may
severally take, agree in positing some hypothetical agency to explain
organic unity and identity. But this agent, if it is to be used as an
explanatory principle, cannot be conceived merely as abstract unity and
identity. In the attempt to give it specific character, it is inevitably re-
presented as one part among others, and not as the unity of the whole.
Space does not allow of more than this very general indication of the line
taken by Mr. Sandeman. His book is full of luminous and instructive
treatment of detail, and ought to be read alike by the biologist and the
student of philosophy.
The Education of the Central Nervous System : a Study of Foundations,
especially of Sensory and Motor Training. By B. P. HALLECK,
M.A., author of Psychology and Psychic Culture. New York :
The Macmillan Company, 1896. Pp. xii., 258.
This book offers a curious discrepancy of theory and practice. The
author's neurology would probably be rejected by the neurologist as too
clean-cut and dogmatic ; his psychology by the psychologist as incomplete
and in part out of date. Yet the work contains a great deal of sound,
practical advice, the outcome, apparently, of a long teaching experience.
It could hardly be used as a text-book, but it has a distinct place as a sort
of half-way house between the old and the new in pedagogy. A teacher,
e.g., who was desirous of bettering his work by a course of self-instruction,
might very well begin with Mr. Halleck's book before plunging into tech-
nical psychologies or pedagogies.
The twelve chapters deal with the central nervous system ; the fatalistic
aspects and the possible modifications of the brain ; attention, nutrition
and fatigue in their relation to the nervous system ; environment and
training ; age and training ; general and special sensory training ; cerebral
development by the formation of images ; Shakespeare's sensory training ;
motor training ; and enjoyment in its relation to the nervous system.
Infallible Logic : a Visible and Automatic System of Reasoning. By
T. D. HAWLEY, of the Chicago Bar, Lansing. Mich. : B. Smith
Printing Co., 1896. Pp. xxx., 659.
Mr. Hawley's Logic is a sort of Lewis Carroll long drawn out. Not
that he regards it as a game; he takes himself, and the "lawyers,
NEW BOOKS. 269
teachers, ministers, students and every one interested in the art of reason-
ing " who are to use his work, with full and complete seriousness. He
seems to have read widely, and in his preface expresses obligation to
Keynes, Venn, Jevons, Jones, Bain and Whately. All the more pathetic
is the failure of his book to furnish what it professes to furnish.
His apparatus is the ' reasoning frame,' a square figure coextensive
with the universe of discourse. This is divided horizontally into rows,
and vertically into files. Premisses and conclusions are distributed
through these subdivisions, and the wrong inferences ' visibly and auto-
matically ' eliminated by application of the rules of formal logic.
It is plain that this symbolism cannot replace formal logic ; the use of
the reasoning frame depends on the reader's knowledge of formal logic.
All that the author could hope to do, that is, would be to assist the stu-
dent by throwing reasoning, processes into visible form ; those processes
themselves must still be understood. But, apart from this general criti-
cism, the book fails of its mission in that the reasoning frame, as the
writer gives it, not seldom proves fallible ; its symbolism is not adequate
to the thought processes which it has to represent.
Essays. By GEORGE JOHN ROMANES. Edited by C. LLOYD MORGAN.
London : Longmans, Green & Co., 1897. Pp. 253.
This is a collection of ten magazine articles, extending over a period from
1879 to 1891. They are entitled "Primitive Natural History," "The
Darwinian Theory of Instinct," "Man and Brute," "Mind in Men and
Animals," " Origin of Human Faculty," " Mental Differences between
Men and Women," "What is the Object of Life?" "Recreation,"'
" Hypnotism," and " Hydrophobia and the Muzzling Order ". They are
all written pleasantly and vigorously, and serve to show the largeness
and variety of Mr. Romanes' interests. Fuller attention will be given
at a later date to those of their number which deal directly with psycho-
logical matters.
The Present Evolution of Man. By G. ARCHDALL REID. London : Chap-
man & Hall, 1896. Pp. 370.
Mr. Reid is strongly convinced of the " all-sufficiency of natural selection ".
He maintains against H. Spencer and others that individual acquirements
are not transmitted by heredity. The most interesting point emphasised
by him is the distinction between the transmission of definite variations
and the transmission of a power of varying in certain modes and directions
in adaptation to external conditions.
An Outline of Psychology. By EDWARD BRADFORD TITCHENER. London :
Macmillan & Co. Pp. xiv., 352.
This clear, compact, and brightly written outline is admirably adapted for
the needs of a beginner. There is no work in English from which the
learner can so easily acquire so much sound and useful information. Full
notice will appear in the July Number of MIND.
Analytic Psychology. By G. F. STOUT. London : Swan Sonnenschein
& Co. 2 vols. Pp. xv., 289 and 314.
We have been compelled for want of space to hold over until July a long
review of this book by Professor Royce.
270 NEW BOOKS.
Le Socialisme et la Science Sociale. Par GASTON RICHARD. Paris :
Felix Alcan, 1897. Pp. 200.
Socialism presents two totally different ideas to the mind. The first of
these ideas is the necessity for mitigating the violence of economic
competition. The second is the necessity for abolishing capitalism.
Socialists hold that the only way to mitigate competition is to destroy
capitalism. M. Richard holds that the teachings of Social Science do not
harmonise with this view. The destruction of capital would, according
to M. Richard, condemn society to consume immediately what it pro-
duced. The result of this would be to intensify competition. In such
circumstances competition would degenerate to the condition which it
occupies hi primitive forms of society. It would not be merely economic
in character as it is at present. It would cover the whole field of
existence, including liberty and life. The upward struggle of humanity
has, as the Socialists truly say, consisted of a struggle against the un-
bridled forces of competition. But they make a mistake in supposing
that the end of the struggle necessitates the abolition of private property.
Competition is an indestructible element in human nature, and cannot
be eliminated. The only effective method of dealing with the competi-
tive spirit is to control and moralise it. The classical economists are
powerless against socialism. They argue that human individuals ought
to be free and contracts ought to be free, therefore competition ought to
be free. But the Socialists have shown that there is sophistry under-
lying this method of reasoning. Unlimited competition tends to the
enslavement of the individual and the degradation of his personality. In
order that there may be true freedom of contract the contracting parties
must stand as far as possible on an equal footing. In the case of women
and children the contracting parties do not stand on an equal footing.
Freedom of labour implies the freedom of the labourer. Unless the
labourer is free it is a mockery to talk of the freedom of labour. True
social and economic progress consist in compelling contracts to conform
to certain ethical standards. It is here that the true function of the
State comes in. It must compel the strong to respect the rights and
liberties of the weak. It must attenuate the economic struggle between
individuals by eqiialising its conditions. It must even prescribe the con-
ditions under which the struggle will be permitted to take place. M.
Richard considers that the task of Liberalism at present is to lay down
and equalise the conditions under which the competitive spirit shall be
permitted to operate. It must ami at placing the woman, the workman,
and the child in such a position before the law that they will no longer
be exploited by commercial rapacity. M. Richard's book is well worth
reading.
W. D. MORRISON.
Theorie der Begabung. Psychologisch-padagogische Untersuchung iiber
Existenz, Klassification, Ursachen, Bildsamkeit, Wert und Erziehung
menschlicher Begabungen. Von Dr. RICHARD BAERWALD. Leipzig :
O. R. Reisland, 1896. London : Williams & Norgate. Pp. x., 289.
Dr. Baerwald suggests, while discussing the subject of reading, that a
book written in a clear and concrete manner loses hi effect, owing to the
ease with which it is understood, while one which is difficult to grasp
may gain its end by wearing out the reader's powers of resistance. Both
statements may, to some extent, be tested by the perusal of the present
work. The sections intended for the general reader are clear and
NEW BOOKS. 271
practical, and written in a style which is pleasant, and at times even
colloquial ; but the book, as a whole, is not very systematic ; and it is
not easy to see how the author's psychological views afforded him that
basis for his theory for which, as he tells us, he sought in vain in the
writings of professed psychologists.
Dr. Baerwald's first object was to find out how far the system of
education prevailing in the German Gymnasia succeeds in developing the
mental powers. He complains that in these schools the principle of
formal education is exaggerated to such an extent that the educational
value of the subjects taught is measured by their difficulty. With a
view to preparing .the way for a more rational theory of education, he
undertook the task of investigating and classifying the human faculties,
and, further, of referring the mental powers, or at least some of them,
to particular psychical activities. Clearness of thought is "localised " hi
psychological synthesis, concentration of thought in apperception,
" combining " imagination in association by likeness.
The intellectual faculties are divided into those which enable us to
have ideas and those which enable us to develop and form the ideas
which we have. This distinction is not altogether clear. We are told
that in reading a badly written book the reader is obliged to fill up gaps
in the chain of thought by ideas of his own ; while " intuitive imagina-
tion," such as Schiller, for instance, possessed, consists in "forming"
concrete ideas already given, and making them "mentally plastic ". Dr.
Baerwald's best instance of the former class of powers is the eloquence
of intoxication, but that, as he remarks, can hardly be regarded as a
Begabung. But the classification to which the author mainly adheres
is based on the distinction between higher and lower powers. The
highest are the faculty of combining (Kombinationsgabe) and logical
acuteness ; next to these are intuitive imagination and the faculty of
observation. The list of inferior faculties comprises receptivity, mother-
wit, rapidity of thought, " disponibility " of memory, which enables a
man to have his ideas ready to hand when they are wanted, Umsicht,
the power of taking a variety of ideas into consideration at once,
and Ubersicht, the power of taking a general survey of the ideas which
are present to the mind. Lowest of all is carefulness (Sorgfalt), by means
of which the man of inferior intelligence may sometimes succeed in
concealing his deficiencies. Genius occasionally means the abnormal
development of the faculties which are possessed by the average man,
but more often it is one-sided and consists in the development of the
higher faculties at the expense of the lower. The inability of great
thinkers to see a joke is to be accepted as a necessary evil !
The author's main conclusions with regard to the question of formal
education are that the education given in schools in which this principle
prevails requires the exercise only of the lower faculties, and therefore
affords no criterion of real ability, and, on the other hand, that the lower
faculties are much more susceptible than the higher to development by
education. The teaching of "formal " subjects, especially mathematics,
has its uses ; but it is of most importance that the pupil should acquire a
knowledge of what is practically useful to him, and should learn to read
for himself, and to think for himself. Dr. Baerwald especially recom-
mends the practice of making boys write essays in their own language.
He objects strongly to the teaching of Greek and Latin, and holds the
unusual opinion that translation into foreign languages does not con-
tribute to a real knowledge of them. He admits that the boys in the
Gymnasia are overworked, but attributes this entirely to the choice of
formal subjects, and to the "leathern method " of teaching.
272 NEW BOOKS.
These and other practical hints are the most definite results of the
author's investigations. He admits that it is not always possible to
ascertain what faculties are possessed by a given individual ; because an
action may be due to the exercise of any one of several faculties, and the
lower faculties often " imitate " the higher, and produce the same results.
But the thoughtful reader who tries in vain to discover what his powers
are is told to console himself with the reflexion that even the author has
not succeeded in making an inventory of his own.
E. F. STEVENSON.
Versuch einer philosophischen Selektionstheorie. Dr. JOHANNES
UNBEHAUN. Gustav Fischer.
This essay contains a " philosophical abstract theory of selection," and
aims at a " purely deductive " method. It treats of the selection of
everything, including inorganic objects (29, 96), works of art and writings
(38, 130), species, cells, organs, tissues (103), molecules (104), parts of a
state of consciousness, successive states of consciousness (113), instincts
(118), firms and factories (128), languages (131), religions and philosophies
(140), principles of thought and laws of research (142), and so on. The
author points out that, for the possibility of a selection, we need
" elements which sometimes come together into aggregates and again
separate," and that these elements may be atoms and molecules, cells,
organisms, persons, worlds and systems of worlds, or the separate ideas
out of which a philosophical system is put together.
He goes on to distinguish different kinds of selection. There is an
outer selection between aggregates and an inner selection between parts
of an aggregate ; each of these kinds may be either physical or psychical,
and every case of selection is either with or without reference to special
qualities. He finds that there are further a selection among the states
of the same object and a selection among the relations between two or
more objects, and develops these laws from a mathematical calculation
of some complexity, in which three expressions occur. These are (1) the
number of unit things concerned in a selection, (2) the time unit, and (3)
the duration of each unit thing.
Dr. Unbehaun is to be praised for having produced a work on natural
selection, which is not a mere collection of unverifiable anecdotes. He
has an undoubted knowledge of the literature of the subject from
Malthus to Roux. He has seriously set himself to follow an orderly
method, and to seize what is essential to the conception of natural selec-
tion. In this work, the author has drawn many distinctions which are
not familiar to the reader in this subject. And where all before was
vaguely, but not the less really, statistical, Dr. Unbehaun openly develops
his doctrines by means of a mathematical apparatus.
On the other hand, it must be pointed out that the " elements which
now come together and again separate " the " separate ideas out of
which a philosophical system is put together" indeed, all such unrelated
parts, or qualities, or states as doctrines of this kind must inevitably use
exist neither in nature nor for thought, and the assumption which pro-
duces them at the same time kills science. Either one state of con-
sciousness is in some sense the same as that which follows it, or they
are two separate things of which first one and then the other is selected.
And the matter is not otherwise in the case of selection among
animals and plants, and among their parts, their periods, and their
qualities. Dr. Unbehaun's work is certainly as " abstract " and as
" purely deductive " as he can have wished it to be. But these are not
the marks of philosophical inquiry. G. SANDEMAN.
NEW BOOKS. 273
Die Lebensanschauungen der grossen Denker. Eine Entwickelungs-
geschichte des Lebensproblems der Menschheit von Plato bis zur
Gegenwart. Von RUDOLF EUCKBN, Professor in Jena. Zweite
umgearbeitete Auflage. London : Williams & Norgate, 1897. Pp.
viii., 487.
This book is a contribution towards the " struggle for spiritual existence,"
which Prof. Eucken regards as one of the leading characteristics of
our day. Men have become dissatisfied with the purely objective point
of view taken by science, and subjectivity is once more claiming its own
at first, indeed, with a wantonness which promises little if we cannot
recognise in it the necessary preliminary fermentation which is to clear
the way for a great movement. By way of furthering this movement, Prof.
Eucken proposes to consider the different conceptions of human life
which have been held by great thinkers. In his introductory chapter he
tells us that his aim has been neither to write a History of Philosophy in
general nor to offer an anthology of notable passages on human life, but
to so present the thoughts of great thinkers as we find them revealed
in their systems on this subject, that, by reaching the essence of their
thought on the problems most immediately bearing on human life, we
may gain a clear and vivid conception of their personalities. And it is to
personalities rather than to any " apotheosis of abstractions " that Prof.
Eucken looks for the solution of the Lebensproblem. While his
intention is to let these thinkers speak for themselves, rather than to
supply any explanation or criticism of their doctrines, the fact that such
a work necessitates choice both as to what thinkers are to be included
and in what order and connexion their ideas shall be presented renders
it impossible to entirely exclude the author's own convictions. Nor is
this to be regretted. For it is justice rather than indifference which is
required in the execution of such a project, and justice presupposes
certain ideas and canons.
The book is divided into three parts. Part i. treats of the thinkers of
antiquity, amongst whom the foremost place is given to Plato, Aristotle,
and Plotinus. Part ii. is devoted to Christianity to its foundation and
to the different forms it has assumed in ancient and modern times. Part
iii. deals with the Renaissance, the Enlightenment, the Age of Criticism
and the search for new paths.
Prof. Eucken's last word, as it is his first, is "das Subjekt und
xri,ie Innerlichke.it ". It is moral character alone that can judge of the
depth and truth of life. Our age must evolve its own morality out of
its own experience and by means of its own powers, but it can gather
much from the study of spiritual struggles in the past and more especially
of the great turning-points of thought which were effected, e.g., by Plato,
by the establishment of Christianity, by Luther and by Kant.
E. MEYER.
Geschichte des Unendlichkeitsproblems im abendlandischen Denken bis
Kant. Von JONAS COHN, Dr. Phil. Leipzig : Engelmann, 1896.
Pp. 261.
This essay in the historical Orientierung of a subject of much import-
ance in the evolution of thought is a prolegomenon to a forthcoming
theoretical disquisition in the same field. It professes the double aim of
analysing the development of the idea of Infinity in Western thought and
of revealing the nature, interplay and conflict of the " logical and a-logical
factors " in that development. The inquiry is thus concerned with the
history of psychology as well as that of philosophy.
18
274 NEW BOOKS.
One of the more interesting sections deals with the inversion in the
emotional valuation (Gefuhlsivertung) of the Infinite which attended the
decay of Greek thought : the transition from an ideal of order, form, de-
limitation in thought, to one of something unknowable, transcendent, in-
finite. Jewish influence strengthened this tendency, the very word in
Hebrew for eternity ('oltlm) having evolved from its probable earlier signifi-
cation of ' covered,' ' hidden'. Interesting also is the course of the mutual
interaction of mystical speculation and the growth of exacter mathemati-
cal concepts with respect to infinity. This attained, perhaps, its climax
in the theosophy of Nicholas Cusanus. Not less worthy of note is the
attitude towards the concept of infinity, as an attribute of the universe,
of Galilei and his compeers whose investigations began to teach man, as
Renan said, what Vinfini des choses really implied. But what is perhaps
of greatest significance in the treatise is that, in confining himself to
" Occidental thought," the author has had both the conscientiousness
to say so and the modesty to deprecate his own want of familiarity with
" Indological studies ". To this sounder perspective the work of Schopen-
hauer, of Prof. Deussen and of Indianists is at length bringing the
Western academical mind.
C. A. F. RHYS DAVIDS.
Die Freheitslehre bei Kant und Schopenhauer. Von DAVID NEUMARK.
Hamburg and Leipzig : Voss, 1896. Pp. 89.
The subject of free will, essentially Occidental and Media? val,might perhaps,
to the benefit of philosophy, be handed over for a while to suffer many
things at the hands of psychological, not to say physiological, analysis.
But it would seem in Germany to survive with perennial vigour. The
dissertation named above is but the first instalment of a trinity of essays.
It has apparently been inspired by Schopenhauer's explanation of the
reason why ancient philosophy did not make its own the problems of
freedom of will and reality of the external world. The * inner connexion '
between the two, expressible in terms of the relation between subject
and object, and determined by the conception of the law of causation, is
the author's epistemological line of approach in comparing Schopen-
hauer's doctrine of liberty with that of Kant. He gives three divisions :
causality and liberty, liberty as the basis of morality, ' intelligible
character '.
C. A. F. RHYS DAVIDS.
Die Formen de.r Familie und die Formen der Wirhchaft. Von ERNST
GROSSE. London : Williams & Norgate, 1896. Pp. vi., 245.
The distinctive merit of this work lies in the attempt to connect the forms
of family life with economic conditions. The author distinguishes five
phases of culture, using as a principle of division the varying mode of sub-
sistence of different peoples. These are (1) the lower hunters, (2) the
higher hunters, (3) the keepers of flocks and herds, (4) the lower agricul-
turists, (5) the higher agriculturists. The relative position of husband
and wife, etc., depends on the relative importance of the economic functions
of men and women. It is only among the lower agriculturists that a
matriarchate is found, and even among them it is exceptional. The book
is highly interesting, though it seems to treat too lightly the work of
Morgan and M'Clennan.
RECEIVED also :
J. S. Merz, A History of European Thought in the Nineteenth Century vol.
L), Edinburgh and London, AVilliam Blackwood & Sons, 1896, pp.
xiv., 458.
NEW BOOKS. 275
C. L. Morgan, Habit and Instinct, London and New York, Edward
Arnold, 1896, pp. 351.
E. Zeller, Aristotle and the Earlier Peripatetics (translated by B. F. C.
Costelloe and J. H. Muirhead), 2 vols., London, New York and
Bombay, Longmans, Green & Co., 1897, pp. viii., 520; viii., 512.
W. A. Watt, The Theory of Contract, Edinburgh, T. & T. Clark, 1897, pp.
xi., 1897.
J. Lindsay, The Significance of the Old Testament for Modern Theology,
Edinburgh and London, W. Blackwood & Sons, 1896, pp. 63.
P. F. Fitzgerald, The Rational or Scientific Ideal of Morality, London, Swan
Sonnenschein & Co., 1897, pp. xvi., 357.
A. Schopenhauer, On Human Nature (translated by T. B. Saunders),
London, Swan Sonnenschein & Co., 1897, pp. 132.
H. Smith, A Plea for the Unborn, London, Watts & Co., pp. 102.
E. M. Wenley, Contemporary Theology and Theism, Edinburgh, T. & T.
Clark, 1897, pp. x., 202.
J. Watson, Christianity and Idealism, New York, The Macmillan Com-
pany, London, Macmillan & Co., 1897, pp. xxxviii., 216.
L. M. J. Garnett and J. S. Stuart -Glennie, Greek Folk Poesy, 2 vols., Guild-
ford, Billing & Sons, sold by David Nutt, 270 Strand, London,
1896, pp. xlv., 477 ; viii., 520.
E. Mach, Contributions to the Analysis of the Sensations (translated by C. M.
Williams), Chicago, The Open Court Publishing Company, 1897,
pp. viii., 199.
F. Phillips, Moods, Their Mental and Physical Character, London, J. & A.
Churchill, 1897, pp. 16.
G. S. Hall, A Study of Fears (reprinted from the American Journal of
Psychology, vol. viii., No. 2), London, Williams & Norgate, pp. 147-
249.
F. H. Bradley, Appearance and Reality, second edition (revised), with an
Appendix, London, Swan Sonnenschein & Co., 1897, pp. xxiv., 628.
E. F. Buchner, A Study of Kant's Psychology, Lancaster, Pa., The New
Era Print, 1897, pp. viii., 208.
G. Noel, La Logique de Hegel, Paris, Felix Alcan, 1897, pp. viii., 188.
G. Seailles, Essai sur le genie dans Vart, Paris, Felix Alcan, 1897, pp. xii.,
313.
E. Recejac, Essai sur les fondements de la connuissance mystique, Paris,
Felix Alcan, 1897, pp. 306.
E. Ferriere, La cause premiere d'apres les donnees experimentales, Paris,
Felix Alcan, 1897, pp. 462.
H. Maier, Die Syllogistik des Aristoteles (Erster Teil), Tubingen, Verlag der
H. Laupp'schen Buchhandlung, 1896, pp. x., 214.
K. B.-B. Aars, Die Autonomie der Moral, London, Williams & Norgate,.
1896, pp. 123.
H. J. Holtzmann, Lehrbuch der neutestamentlichen Theologie (Siebente und
achte Lieferung), Freiburg I. B. und Leipzig, 1896, London, Wil-
liams & Norgate, pp. 289-416.
E. Loewenthal, System und Geschichte des Naturalismus, London, Williams
& Norgate, Berlin, Verlag von S. Calvary & Co., 1897, pp. iv., 115.
A. Michelitsch, Atomismus, Hylemorphismus und Natumoissenschaft, Graz,
1897, London, Williams & Norgate, pp. iv., 104.
H. von Helmholtz, Vorlesungen iiber die elelctromagnetische Theorie des Lichts,
herausgegeben von A. Konig und Carl Runge, Hamburg und
Leipzig, Verlag von Leopold Voss, 1897, London, Williams & Nor-
gate, pp. xii., 370.
F. de Sarlo, Saggi di Filosofia (vol. ii.), Torino, Carlo Clausen, 1897, pp.
259.
VIII. PHILOSOPHICAL PERIODICALS.
PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW. Vol. iii., No. 5. Studies from the Psychological
Laboratory of the University of Iowa. Gr. T. W. Patrick and J. A.
Gilbert. ' On the Effects of Loss of Sleep.' [Three subjects were kept
awake for ninety hours, and tested in various ways at regular intervals.]
Studies from the Psychological Laboratory of Harvard University. (l.)
J. E. Lough. ' The Relations of Intensity to Duration of Stimulation
in our Sensations of Light.' [Within certain limits the intensity of sen-
sation is proportional to the duration of stimulus : determination of
point of maximal stimulus effect : loss of sensation intensity with dura-
tions less than those producing the maximal effect : theoretical remarks.]
(n.) L. M. Solomons and Gr. Stein. ' Normal Motor Automatism.'
[Experimental proof that the hypothesis of ' double personality ' is un-
necessary.] H. Griffing and S. I. Franz. ' On the conditions of
Fatigue in Reading.' [Size and quality of type ; distance between letters
and lines ; quality of illumination and paper.] S. I. Franz and H. XL
Houston. ' The Accuracy of Observation and of Recollection in
School Children.' [Older children more accurate than younger ; boys
quantitatively more exact than girls ; relation of confidence to accuracy
uncertain.] Discussion and Reports. H. M. Stanley. ' Remarks on
Professor Lloyd Morgan's Method in Animal Psychology.' A. Allin and
Bt W. Calkins. ' Recognition.' [Reply and counter-reply to Miss
Calkins' review of Allin's theory.] A. Tanner. ' Community of Ideas
of Men and Women.' [Both Miss Calkins' and Jastrow's experiments
ignore the effect of habit.] Psychological Literature. New Books.
Notes.
REVUE PHILOSOPHIQUE. Vingt et unieme Annee, No. 10. October,
1896. V. Egger. ' Le moi des mourants : nouveaux faits.' [Discusses
the conscious state of dying persons. A man, dying naturally, meditates
on his past life during his last moments. If an accident has caused the
impending death, one's past flashes through one like a dream.] H.
Lachelier. ' Sur la formule logique du raisonnement inductif.' [The
only type of reasoning is the deductive. Induction is a term employed
to cover the different methods by which the scientist discovers hypo-
thetical causal laws, and verifies his deductions from them. But none of
the methods constitutes a new form of reasoning.] Lombroso (Paola).
' L'instinct de la conservation chez les enfants.' [The law of 'least
effort ' governs all the manifestations of infant life. This law is of
course subordinate to the law of preservation. The position is sup-
ported by illustrations from child life.] L. Marillier. ' Le Congres
international de psychologic de 1896.' [Summarises the papers read at
the Congress.] Reviews, etc.
No. 11. November, 1896. J. Payot. ' Theories du monde ex-
te'rieur.' [Criticises Mill's psychological idealism and Spencer's 'trans-
PHILOSOPHICAL PEEIODICALS. 277
figured' realism. Of the conceptions implied in the belief in an external
world, that of externality is acquired ; while the underivative ones are
those of permanence and independence of the connexions between our
sensations. A thoroughly Berkeleian essay.] H. Joly. ' La Genese
des grands hommes.' [A review of M. Odin's book on the subject.
Education plays a larger part than heredity in the making of great men.]
Ch. Fere. ' L'antithese dans 1'expression des Emotions.' [Darwin's
principle of Antithesis is important as regards the expression of simu-
lated emotions.] CK Belot. ' Le Socialisme : dogme ou mdthode ? ' [A
general review of books on the subject by Boilley, Garofalo and Prins.]
Notices of Books. Foreign Periodicals, etc.
No. 12. December, 1896. Dugas. ' La timidit^ : Etude psycho-
logique.' [Timidity is an emotion akin to, but differing from, fear. It is
inhibitory of acts, thoughts and feelings. A very interesting psychological
essay.] Dr. G-. Le Bon. ' Psychologic du socialisme.' [Treats of the
socialists from a psychological standpoint as exhibiting a certain type of
mind.] Foucault. ' Mesure de la clart^ de quelques representations
sensoreilles.' [Gives the results of psychophysical experiments on
differences of sensibility to pressure.] Discussions. Reviews, etc.
REVUE DE METAPHYSIQUE ET DE MORALE, (a) 4 Annee, No. 5. Sep-
tembre, 1896. Q. Noel. ' La logique de Hegel : Hegel et la pensle
contemporaine (fin.).' [Neither pure empiricism nor Kantism is a logically
tenable position. But we cannot go back to the dogmatism which Kant
criticised and refuted. . . . Hegel is charged with " exclusive intellectual -
ism " : but his intellectualism, not his exclusiveness, is what gives offence ;
for his opponents substitute an equally exclusive principle of their
own, and one which, to us, seems utterly inadmissible. The reproach
only betrays ignorance of Hegel. Generations of thinkers pass succes-
sively under the influence of successive great philosophers. The Middle
Ages were right in revering Aristotle : so their successors were right in
revering Descartes ; Leibniz advanced beyond the position of Descartes ;
Kant, beyond that of Leibniz ; Hegel, beyond that of Kant. Each
has left an indelible impress on the course of thought, but none has
said the last word. Meanwhile Hegel still awaits his successor. Until
some one is found to do for him what Descartes did for Aristotle, or Kant
for Leibniz, Hegel blocks the way, and the study of Hegelianism is a
necessity.] Criton. ' Quatrieme dialogue philosophique entre Eudoxe
et Ariste. [A Dialogue, modelled on those of Plato or Berkeley, in
which the nature of Body is discussed, and its relationship with
Mind. Are Body and Mind identical, and does Body think ? Conclusion :
the nature of Body is necessary, but has its raison d'etre in the necessary
laws of Thought. We must not be intimidated, in maintaining this, by the
" redoubtable corporation of physiologists and physicists," whose authority
within their proper sphere may be as great as one pleases, but whose
philosophy is bornee, and without authority.] A. Spir. ' Nouvelles
esquisscs de philosophie critique (sixieme article, suite) : Essai sur les fonde-
ments de la religion et de la morale.' [If physical Science possessed
absolute truth, if the physical order of the world were absolute, none but
physical causes could act or be recognised. On the other hand, if man
were a mere machine, Science itself would be impossible. As a matter
of fact, a mere machine is incapable of science. Science, in truth, is
possible, only because physical laws do not possess absolute validity.
This position is worked out into what follows regarding Religion and
Morality.] Etudes critiques, etc. (including a full and interesting ex-
amination of Professor Baldwin's Mental Development in the Child and in
the Race).
278 PHILOSOPHICAL PERIODICALS.
(b) 4 e Annee, No. 6. Noveinbre, 1896. B. Gibson. ' La philosophie
comme attitude.' [Self-determination is a fact fundamental in
organic life ; and the philosophic attitude may at once be denominated an
attitude of Self-determination. Attitudes wherein one is determined from
without are radically non-philosophical. But in all cases the environ-
ment the external medium also plays its part even in sei/'-determination.
To explain this ' singular co-operation,' it is needful first to explain the
meaning of ' organism '. This being done, the question arises : Can the
interaction between me and the environing medium in its manifold forms
be organic in its character ? The writer adopts the affirmative answer
to this question. In a note he says that the discussion which follows
was inspired by the course of lectures delivered in the University of
Glasgow, during the winter session 1895-6, by Professor H. Jones.] E.
lie Roy et G. Vincent. ' Sur 1'idee de nombre.' [A development and
explanation of two articles, already (September and November, 1894)
published in this Revue, on Mathematical Method.] E. HaleVy. ' Quel-
ques remarques sur FirreVersibilite des phenomenes psychologiques.'
[Mechanical phenomena are reversible. If the thesis of universal
mechanism is true, if every physical is reducible to a mechanical problem,
it follows from what has been said that the physical universe is rever-
sible : " The planets might move retrogress! vely in their orbits without
the violation of Newton's Law ". The negative of this seems dogmatically
possible, only in virtue of the seeming irreversibility of the successive order
of psychological phenomena. Psychological time seems to be distinguished
from Physical or Mechanical time, in that the future cannot be converted
into a past, nor the past into a future. Memory and foresight are not
reducible to one another : they are the inverse, the one of the other.
The psychological universe is thus apparently irreversible. The object
of the following paper is to investigate the reasons why psychological
phenomena present this appearance, and to determine whether it is
only an appearance, and whether such phenomena are really reversible ;
or, how far they are reversible, and how far they are not. Logical
Thought, it concludes, involves irreversibility. The point of view of
psychological, however, as of all, mechanism is incomplete, relative, and
contradictory. The physical is, perhaps, ultimately reducible to the
logical representation of the Universe.] Etudes critiques, etc. (among
them, an important review of the Philosophy of Thomas HiU Green).
REVUE NEO-SCOLASTIQUE. No. 12. In an article entitled ' L'objet de
la science sociale,' M. Halleux maintains that Sociology is neither a
purely idealistic nor a purely empirical science, but stands midway
between the two. It is, in truth, rather idealistic than empirical. It
observes social facts, indeed, but it is in the investigation into the first
origin of social facts and in the determination of their moral value that
the formal object of Sociology is found. In view of the Anti-Semitic
movements of the present day, M. Deploige thinks it may not be
without interest to inquire into the attitude of St. Thomas Aquinas
towards the Jews and their religion. In his article, ' Saint Thomas
et la question Juive,' M. Deploige shows that according to the teaching
of St. Thomas, (1) Jews are not to be forced to accept the Christian
faith: "Judaei nullo modo sunt ad fidern compellendi ut ipsi credant,
quia credere voluntatis est. . . . Voluntas cogi non potest ; " (2)
Jewish children are not to be baptised without the consent of then-
parents : " Nemini facienda est injuria ; fieret autem Judaeis injuria si
eorum filii baptizarentur eis invitis ; " (3) the Jewish religion is not to
be proscribed : " Ex hoc quod Judaei ritus suos observant, hi quibus
PHILOSOPHICAL PEEIODICALS. 279
olim praefigurabatur veritas fidei quam tenemus, hoc bonum provenit
quod testimonimn fidei habenms ab hostibus et quasi in figura nobis
repraesentatur quod credimus ; et ideo in suis ritibus tolerantur ". In
an interesting account of Le IV me Congres d'Anthropologie Criminelle,
which held its meetings at Geneva, from the 23rd to the 29th of last
August, M. Maus points out that, whereas criminal anthropology was
at first regarded as strongly favourable to materialism and determinism,
it is now seen to be quite consistent with the doctrines of free-will and
responsibility, and, indeed, to be the necessary complement of those
doctrines. M. Van Overbergh continues his examination of Scientific
Socialism as set forth in the ' Manifesto communiste,' and discusses its
second characteristic, evolution.
ZEITSCHRIFT FUR PSYCHOLOGIE UND PHYSIOLOGIE DEE SINNESORGANE.
Bd. xi., Heft 5 und 6. S. Witasek. ' Versuche iiber das Vergleichen
von Winkelverschiedenheiten.' [A white disc was divided by black
threads, under different conditions of constancy of one or two of the
three angles : the subject either judged given proportions, or himself
set the threads at the right distances. Result : arithmetical rather than
geometrical progression. Reason : probably, confusion of difference and
differentness.] Q. Heymans. ' Aesthetische Untersuchungen in Ansch-
luss an die Lipps'sche Theorie des Komischen (n.).' [Those things are
beautiful which, ' not transitorily or in connexion with accidental cir-
cumstances, but by their nature and associative relations, internal and
external, adjust the attention to the object of perception, and so facilitate
its apprehension '. Test of the theory on formal, associative and typical
beauty, and the beauty of successful imitation.] A. Meinong. ' Ueber
die Bedeutung,' etc. [V. Ueber psychische Messung und das Webersche
Gesetz. 27. Theoretically, mental magnitudes, if divisible, are measur-
able. Intensities are indivisible : we may not speak of ' sensation
increment '. Hence only surrogate measurement of them, by help of the
notion of mental distances, is possible. Practically, we do not measure
the mental directly, but only indirectly, by aid of physical magnitudes.
28. Weber's law, barely stated, says that equally different (proportional)
stimuli belong to equally different (proportional if extensive, quasi-propor-
tional if intensive) sensations (different = verschieden). It would seem
natural to assume that stimulus and sensation are proportional. But
what of the logarithmic formula ? 29. In deriving his formula, 30,
Fechner confused difference with differentness ; and the popular accept-
ance of the formula has confirmed the confusion. 31. This does not
mean that the fact that stimuli corresponding to equally different sen-
sations change in the logarithmic relation is valueless. Rather does it
give us (though, it is true, in surrogate form only) the function which
we were looking for in 17 ff. 32. We have now rejected the ' difference
hypothesis ' of Weber's law. What of the ' relation hypothesis ' ? The
law of relativity does not help us : difference itself can be brought under
it. Moreover, the ' relative difference ' of the hypothesis is still a differ-
ence. Yet undoubtedly the spirit evinced in its formulation is a groping
for truth, and the hypothesis comes nearer our own position than the
difference hypothesis (cf. 26). 33. So far we agree with Merkel, whom we
have been criticising (20). There are three possible assumptions on the
sensation side of the law : difference, differentness, noticeability. Merkel
bases his relation hypothesis on a difference assumption. But a survey
of the facts shows that our own differentness assumption fits them
better. Noticeability is only a bolster for Merkel's theory, not needed
by us. 34. Weber's law does not require any ' interpretation '. Plainly,
280 PHILOSOPHICAL PERIODICALS.
however, we stand nearer the psychological than the physiological or
psychophysical ' interpretations '. If we must have a name, ours is the
' interpretation in terms of theory of relation '. 35. Summary. Table
of Contents.] W. Preyer. ' Zur Geschichte der Dreifarbenlehre. '
W. Scharwin und A. Novizki. ' Ueber die scheinbaren Grossenwechsel
der Nachbilder irn Auge.' [We localise after-images unconsciously.] W.
Heinrich. ' Die Aufrnerksamkeit und die Funktion der Sinnesorgane,'
II. [Accommodation for objects in paraxial positions. Confirmation of
the author's previous result, that changes of direction of visual attention
have physiological correlates in the peripheral organ.] GK Heymans.
' Erwiderung.' [Against Miiller-Lyer.] Litteraturbericht. Namen-
register. Inhaltsverzeichnis.
Bd. xii., Heft 1. J. von Kries und W. Nagel. ' Ueber den Einfluss
von Lichtstarke und Adaptation auf das Sehen der Dichromaten (Griin-
blinden).' [Confirmation of Konig's results. It is not, however, that
the curves of excitability are dependent upon the intensity of the stimu-
lating light (and the adaptation of the eye) ; but rather that there are
two distinct apparatus which function alternately, and that the stimulat-
ing value of two lights may differ for one and be the same for the other.
Description of a new form of the Helmholtz colour-mixture apparatus.]
T. Lipps. ' Die geometrisch-optischen Tauschungen. Vorlaufige Mit-
theilung.'' [" I am just about to issue a work upon Esthetic Impression
and Optical Illusion. ... It seemed in place to give here, in the form
of a preliminary communication, a sketch of my theory, without detailed
arguments or indication of consequences."] F. Thomas. ' Ein weiteres
Beispiel von Assoziation durch eine Geruchsenapfindung als unbewusstes
Mittelglied.' K. Marbe. ' Neue Methode zur Herstellung homogener
grauer Flachen von verschiedener Helligkeit.' [Photographic.] Littera-
turbericht.
ZEITSCHRIFT FUR PHILOSOPHIE UND PHILOSOPHISCHE KRITIK. Xeue Folge,
Bd. cviii., Heft 2. Arvid Grotenfelt. 'Warum vertrauen wir den grund-
legenden Hypothesen unseres Denkens ? (Schluss).' [Though definite laws
of nature a priori cannot be assumed, yet it is equally true that elements
peculiarly intellectual enter into the thinking conception of experience,
and play an important part therein. The intelligence cannot help mak-
ing, respecting the ' Actual,' assumptions and presuppositions which
extend beyond what is, in the proper sense of the word, ' experienced '.
" Nothing can have been given to our Consciousness which was not formed
and transformed by it " (quoted from RIEHL). While we dwell on the
question as to the justification of these (undoubtedly real) factors of
knowledge, we are led to the question on which the whole Erkenntnis-
problem depends the question of the Origin and Validity of the principle
of Causality. The paper proceeds to discuss these ' interpolationsmaxi-
men ' (as Liebmann calls them) of the intellect. The 'maxims' in
question are : 1. The principle of real Identity. 2. The principle of the
Continuity of Existence. 3. The principle of Causality, or thorough-going
' legitimacy,' in the course of events (des Geschehens). 4. The principle of
Continuity in the course of events. In the discussion which follows, the
author says (inter alia) that, according to his firm conviction, the facts of
the moral consciousness, especially those of the consciousness of respon-
sibility, as they now exist among men of culture, and chiefly amongst
those who are best educated and most highly developed, require for their
justification the presupposition of indeterminism undetermined freedom
of choice ; since, if this be not granted, much that is cherished hi morality
must be treated as illusory. Even theoretic philosophy, therefore, may
PHILOSOPHICAL PERIODICALS. 281
ask: which is more likely that these moral facts should be mere illusions,
or that a limit exists to the principle of Causality ? an interesting paper,
which concludes with a plea for a qualified recognition of Empiricism in
Erkenntnistheorie."] Eduard von Hartmann. ' Die letzten Fragen der
Erkenntnistheorie und Metaphysik (Schluss').' [(a) The metaphysical
foundations of Causality ; (6) Unity and Plurality. Under these two
headings von Hartmann discusses the second, or metaphysical, portion
of his subject. The essay is, to a considerable extent, occupied with a
polemic against Konig, who has criticised von Hartmann' stheory of
Causality, and found it to harmonise in important points with that of
Lotze.] J. Freudenthal. ' Spinozastudien.' [The writer discusses the
" Short Tractate," of which he concludes that it shows in form and con-
tent more numerous and grosser errors than any other of Spinoza's
writings. It is, however, a genuine work of his. The youth of its author
was not the cause of its defectiveness : for he was twenty-six years old
when he wrote it ; but it was written, not for publication, but for a
narrow circle of friends. In its imperfect state, it came into the hands
of a " redactor," who treated it badly, being an admirer of Spinoza, but
unable to understand him.] Recensionen, etc.
PHILOSOPHISCHE STUDIEN. Bd. xii., Heft 4. G-. W. Storring. ' Zur
Lehre vom Einfluss der Gefiihle auf die Vorstellungen und ihren Verlauf.'
[The influence of feelings upon ideas, in the normal and abnormal mind,
when they are playing a part in the process of attention, and the ideas also
are under the influence of attention. Experiments with voluntary move-
ment : new apparatus. Constant error positive for pleasantness with flexion
and unpleasantness with extension ; negative for the latter with flexion.
Critique of G. E. Miiller and Miinsterberg. The influence of feelings
upon the associative and reproductive processes of the normal and
abnormal mind. They reproduce not directly, but by way of organic
sensations. A strong affective tone which favours reproduction is more
effective if connected with the reproducing idea.] Gr. M. Stratton.
' Ueber die Wahrnehmung von Druckanderungen bei verschiedenen
Geschwindigkeiten.' [On the magnitude of the just noticeable change
of pressure, with instantaneous and gradual alteration of stimulus. New
apparatus. With the first method, Weber's law holds between the limits
75 and 200 gr. With the second, the change linien increases with
decrease of the rapidity of stimulus alteration. If this is relatively
constant, Weber's law holds. Interpretation : there are no ' change
sensations'.] H. Eber. 'Zur Kritik der Kinderpsychologie, mit
Biicksicht auf neuere Arbeiten.' [The method of child psychology is
genetic, descriptive and physiological. Critique of Baldwin and Preyer :
both represent a faculty psychology, Preyer undisguisedly, Baldwin in a
form obscured by biological formulation. Current treatment of the ques-
tions of conscious elements and the processes of conscious connexion.]
VlERTELJAHRSSCHRIFT FUR WlSSENSCHAFTLICHE PHILOSOPHIE. Jahrg.
xx., Heft 4. F. Carstanjen. ' Nachruf an Richard Avenarius.' [An
interesting sketch of life and philosophic method.] ' Berichtigungen zur
" Kritik der reinen Erfahrung ".' S. Kableachkoff. ' Die Erfahrbarkeit
der Begriffe gepriift an dem Begriffe der Erziehung.' [What a person
characterises as ' experienced ' is merely what he himself recognises at
the moment as his own experience. What this is will depend on his
own pre-existing circle of ideas. This view is put forward as an outcome
of ' Empirio-kritizisrnus '. But it looks like a knife which will cut two
ways.] (Other titles in last number of MIND.)
282 PHILOSOPHICAL PERIODICALS.
Jahrg. xxi., Heft 1. R. Wahle. ' Die Ethik Wundt's.' [The his-
torical treatment of the evolution of ethical principles, however valuable
in itself, does not essentially contribute to the solution of ethical prob-
lems. Wundt makes his own Ethics independently of such empirical
data, though he is not aware that he is doing so.] O. Krebs. ' Der
Wissenchaftsbegriff bei Hermann Lotze.' [Discusses (1) the content, and
(2) the form of science ; (3) its metaphysical, teleological and logical pre-
suppositions, as conceived by Lotze. The writer tries to show that
Lotze's doctrines are fundamentally incoherent.] R. Willy. ' Die
Krisis in der Psychologic.' [Psychology is in a bad way if it does not give
up Metaphysics and take to 'Empirio-kritizismus' instead. Wundt is an
awful example.] ' Was lehrt der iii. Internationale Psychologen-Kon-
gress in Munchen ? ' [We gather that it was very unedifying.]
ARCHIV FUR SYTEMATISCHE PHILOSOPHIE. Bd. iii., Heft 1. O. Schneider.
4 A. Stadler's Klassifikation der Wissenchaften.' [Criticises both in prin-
ciple and detail.] J. Baumann. ' Wundt's Grundriss der Psychologic.'
[Criticises the metaphysical side of Wundt's Psychology his monism
and the fundamental importance he assigns to conation.] B. Erdmann.
' Sprechen und Denken.' (n.) [Discusses the varieties and preparatory
stages of written language.] Paul Natorp. ' Grundlinien einer Theorie
der Willensbildung.' (iv.) [An important article. The functions of the
Family, the School, and the Common Life of Adults in educating the will.]
(Other titles in last number of MIND.)
RIVISTA ITALIANA DI FILOSOFIA. July-August. Q-. Zuccante.
'L'aspetto biologico della Condotta secondo lo Spencer.' [This article
aims at showing the importance of Evolution to the biological basis of
conduct. Biologically, pleasures are the " correlatives " of acts beneficial
to the organism, pains the correlatives of acts hurtful to it. But as
Spencer himself admits, this rule is not always true in experience, and
the exceptions are explained by the " optimism of Evolution ". This
leads to a comparison of Spencer's complete life, as the final result of
Evolution, with Kant's treatment of the " Summum Bonum ".] A.
Nagy. ' Fatti normali e fatti morbosi in psicologia.' [Discusses the
relation of normal or physiological states to morbid or pathological.
Four theories are criticised : (a) Physiological states are pleasant,
Pathological painful ; (6) the Physiological tend to perfection of the
organism, the Pathological do not ; (c) the former tend to preservation
of the individual, the latter do not ; (d) the former tend to advantage of
both the individual and species, the latter do not. The result of the
criticism is that everything tending to maintain the status quo is pleasant,
and the state is Physiological ; while, on the contrary, changes are pain-
ful, and the state is Pathological. From the relativity of the feelings a
relativity of the states may be inferred, and hence the distinction is one
of degree, not of kind, and the two may be differentiated according to
the preponderance of static (Physiological) or disturbing elements (Patho-
logical).] N. B, D' Alfonso. ' L'educazione organica.' [The teacher
should be acquainted with hygiene, the psychic side of man, biology,
chemistry, and physical education.] ' II Neo-criticismo a proposito di
tina ristampa ' [di un libro di C. Cantoni]. A. Chiappelli. ' Kelazione
sul concorso per le scienze filosofiche.' Bibliografia : E. MorsellL
* devolution sociale, par Beneamin Kidd.' Bollettino, etc.
IX. NOTES.
A NOTE ON HYPNAGOGIC PARAMNESIA.
The phenomenon which I am about to record is a simple one, and
may be familiar to many. My own experience of it has, however, sug-
gested various points concerning the connexion between sleeping con-
sciousness and abnormal waking consciousness dreams and paramnesia
or " false memory " which have seemed to me new. That is my ex-
cuse for this Note.
I.
About the middle of the night I had a very vivid dream, in which I
imagined that two friends a gentleman and his daughter with a
certain Lord Chesterfield (I had lately been reading the Letters of the
famous Lord Chesterfield) were together at an hotel, that they were
playing with weapons, that the lady accidentally killed or wounded
Lord Chesterfield, and that she then changed clothes with him with the
object of escaping, and avoiding discovery which would somehow be
dangerous. I was informed of the matter, however, and was much
concerned. I awoke, and my first thought was that I had just had a
curious dream which I must not forget in the morning. But then I
seemed to remember that it was a real and familiar event. This second
thought lulled my mental activity, and I went to sleep again. In the
morning I was able to recall the main points in my dream, and my
thoughts on awaking from it.
Since then I have given attention to the point, and I have found on
recalling my half -waking consciousness after dreams that, while it is
doubtless rare to catch the assertion, " That really occurred," it is less
rare to catch the vague assertion, " That is the kind of thing that does
occur ". I find that this latter impression appears like the former after
vivid dreams which contain no physical impossibility but which the full
waking consciousness refuses to recognise as among the things that are
probable.
This phenomenon has long been known, though I am not aware that
it has attracted much attention. Brierre de Boismont pointed out that
certain vivid dreams are not recognised as dreams, but are taken for
reality even after waking. Moll compares such dreams, thus continued
into waking life, to continuative post-hypnotic suggestions. In a recent
" Study of the Dream Consciousness," by Sarah Weed and Florence
Hallam (American Journal of Psychology, April, 1896), one of the subjects
found that probable dreams are sometimes " mistaken during a short
time for the actual ". In insanity, as many alienists have shown, this
mistake is sometimes permanent, and the dream becomes an integral
and persistent part of waking life.
284 NOTES.
Such dreams usually present a possible, though, it may be, highly
improbable event. The half-waking or hypnagogic intelligence seems to
be deceived by this element of life-like possibility. 1 Consequently a
fallacy of perception takes place strictly comparable to the fallacious
perception which in the case of an external sensation we call an illusion.
In the ordinary illusion an externally excited sensation of one kind is
mistaken for an externally excited sensation of another kind. In this
case a centrally excited sensation of one order (dream image) is mis-
taken for a centrally excited sensation of another order (memory). The
phenomenon is, therefore, a mental illusion belonging to the group of
false memories, and it may be termed hypnagogic paramnesia. 2
The process seems to have a certain interest, and it may throw light
on some rather obscure phenomena. It sometimes happens that we are
able to recall a vivid dream, usually, I believe, a fairly probable dream,
with no idea as to when it was dreamed. And it sometimes happens
that we find ourselves in possession of experiences of which we cannot
certainly say that they happened in waking life or in dream life. In such
cases it seems probable that this hypnagogic paramnesia has come into
action ; the half -waking consciousness dismisses the vivid and life-like
dream as an old and familiar experience, shunting it off into temporary
forgetfulness, unless some accident again brings it into consciousness with,
as it were, a fragment of that wrong label still sticking to it. Such a
paramnesic process may thus also help to account for the mighty part
which, as so many thinkers from Aristotle and Augustine downwards
have seen, dreams have played in moulding human action and human
belief. It is a means whereby waking life and dream life are brought
to an apparently common level.
II.
But another point is suggested by this phenomenon of the half -awake
consciousness. If it may be regarded as a variety of paramnesia. may
it not serve to throw some light on that much-discussed phenomenon
which has led to so many strange and complicated theories ? 3 I think
it may.
1 Dr. Marie de Mauaceine, who has lately studied the phenomena of
the hypnagogic state experimentally in much detail, finds that it is
characterised by abnormal suggestibility, and she considers it almost
identical with the hypnotic state.
2 By hypnagogic paramnesia I mean a false memory occurring in the
antechamber of sleep, but not necessarily before sleep. Mr. Myers'
invention of the word " hypnopompic '' seems to me unnecessary except
for pedantic reasons. I take the condition of consciousness to be almost
the same whether the sleep is coming on or passing away. In the
dream I have recorded it is even impossible to say whether the phe-
nomenon is " hypnagogic " or " hypnopompic " ; in such a case the twilight
consciousness is as much conditioned by the sleep that is passing away
as by the sleep that is corning on.
3 It is needless to enumerate these, but I may refer to the simplest,
viz. , that the false memory is an unrecognised true memory. This is
the explanation chiefly relied on by Jessen, Sander, Emminghaus, Sully,
and Burnham. Undoubtedly it will explain a considerable proportion
of cases but not the really typical cases in which the subject has an
overwhelming conviction that even the minute details of the present.
NOTES. 285
The hypnagogic state is a transition between waking and sleeping.
It is thus a condition of mental feebleness and suggestibility doubtless
correlated with a condition of irregular brain anaemia. A plausible
suggestion under such conditions is too readily accepted. Does
ordinary paramnesia occur under similar conditions of mental feeble-
ness and suggestibility ? It is rare to find descriptions of param-
nesic experiences by scientific observers who are alive to the im-
portance of accurately recording all the conditions, but there is some
reason to think that paramnesia does occur in states produced by ex-
haustion and allied causes. It seems to be fairly frequent in languid
and anaemic persons, 1 in the suggestible, in those given to day-dreaming.
Bonatelli, it may be added, has found a special connexion between
paramuesia and conditions of nervous irritability, and Anjel between
paramnesia and fatigue. 2 As Dugas has pointed out, it is also well
known to writers and others who, while possessing unusual mental
capacity, strain that capacity to the utmost. The earliest case of
paramnesia recorded in detail by a trained observer is that described
by Wigan as occurring to himself at the funeral of the Princess Charlotte.
He had passed several disturbed nights previous to the ceremony, with,
almost complete deprivation of rest on the night immediately preceding ;
he was suffering from grief as well as from exhaustion from want of
food ; he had been standing for four hours, and would have fainted on
taking his place by the coffin if it had not been for the excitement of the
occasion. When the music ceased the coffin slowly sank in absolute
silence, broken by an outburst of grief from the bereaved husband. " In
an instant," Wigan proceeds, " I felt not merely animpression, but a convic-
tion, that I had seen the whole scene before on some former occasion."
Such a condition on the verge of syncope, it is evident, closely resembles
the hypnagogic state. The frequency of paramnesia in the prodromal
experience have been experienced before. I frequently read a new
poem with a vague sense of familiarity, but such an experience never
puts on a really paramnesic character, and I quickly realise that it is
explainable by the fact that the writer of the poem has fallen under the
influence of Heine, or Tennyson, or Rosetti, as the case may be. One
may have similar experiences with regard to new psychological theories.
The only experience I can personally speak of as approaching true
paramnesia occurred on visiting the ruins of Pevensey Castle some ten
years ago. On going up the slope towards the ivy-covered ruins, bathed
in bright sunlight, I experienced a strange and abiding sense of
familiarity with the scene. Three theories might account for this
experience : (1) that it was a case of true paramnesia ; (2) that I had
been taken to the spot as a child ; (3) that the view was included
among a series of coloured stereoscopic pictures with which I was
familiar as a child, and which certainly contained similar scenes. I
incline to this last explanation. Here as elsewhere there are no keys
which will unlock all doors.
1 In this connexion it is interesting to note that Dr. Marie de Mana-
ceine, in her very extended series of observations, has found that anae-
mia, and especially chlorosis, constitute a powerful factor in producing
predisposition to the phenomena of the hypnagogic state.
2 Burnham, "Paramnesia," Am. Jour. Psychology, May, 1889. I
should add that Anjel's view of paramnesia, as very briefly outlined by
Burnham, seems to have some relation to that which has independently
commended itself to me.
286 NOTES.
stage of an epileptic fit, or as a substitute for it, is well recognised, and
Hughlings Jackson has regarded it as a ground to suspect the presence
of epilepsy. Not only is this phenomenon found in all these conditions
of imperfect waking consciousness ; it is also found in the full dream
consciousness of sleep. Thus Kraepelin tells how he dreamed of smoking
his fourth or fifth cigar, although he had never smoked in his life, and
we are all probably familiar with dreams in which we perform extra-
ordinary actions which seem habitual to us.
Thus in all these conditions we appear to be in the presence of an en-
feebled and impaired state of consciousness approximating to the true
confusion of dream consciousness. It seems as if externally excited
sensations in such cases are received by the exhausted cerebral centres in
so blurred a form that an illusion takes place and they are mistaken for
internally excited sensations, for memories.
It has been argued by some who admit that there is often an element
of fatigue in paramnesia (for instance by Allin, " Recognition," American
Journal of Psychology, Jan., 1896) that the real cause of the false memory
is an abnormal celerity of perception, perhaps due to hyperaesthesia. The
scene would thus be perceived so quickly that the subject concludes that
he must have had this experience before. That the subject often has a
feeling of unusual rapidity of perception may very well be admitted.
But there is no reason whatever to suppose that the perception actually
is received with any snch unusual rapidity. The probabilities are hi the
other direction. We know that many influences (such as drugs like
alcohol) which produce a feeling of heightened and quickened perceptions
really have a slowing and dulling effect. In the same way the wise and
beautiful things we utter in dreams on awaking are usually found to be
commonplace, if not meaningless. There is no evidence to show that
paramnesia is accompanied by a real heightening of perception, while, as
we have seen, a broad survey of the facts makes it more reasonable to
suppose that we have, on the contrary, a sudden fall towards the dream
state. In this connexion it is well to bear in mind that, as Tissie has
pointed out, there are probably many stages in the dream state.
The effects of hypnotic suggestion may help to explain paramnesia.
Although hypnosis and sleep are not usually considered to be precisely
identical conditions, they are, without doubt, closely allied. In sleep,
as in hypnosis, we accept a suggestion, with or without a straggle. In
the paramnesic state we seem to find, in a slighter stage of a like
condition, the same process in a reversed form. Instead of accepting a
representation as an actual present fact, we accept the actual present
fact as merely a representation. The sensory centres are in such a
state of exhaustion and disorder that they receive an actual external
sensation in the feebler shape of a representation. The actual fact
becomes merely a suggestion of far distant things. It reaches con-
sciousness in the enfeebled shape of an old memory
"... like to something I remember
A great while since, a long, long tune ago ".
Paramnesia is thus an internal hallucination, a reversed hallucination,
it is true, but while so reversed, the stream of consciousness is still
following the line of least resistance.
Such at all events is the explanation I should offer, and it is certainly
simpler than the complicated, ingenious theories which have been
invented to explain the phenomena of paramnesia, phenomena which
are of no little interest since in earlier stages of culture they must
have had a real influence on belief, suggesting to primitive man that
he somehow had had wider experiences than he knew of, and that, as
Wordsworth put it, he trailed clouds of glory behind him.
NOTES. 287
III.
In this brief Note I have tried to indicate the possibility that :
(1) The hypnagogic state with its heightened liability to auto-
suggestion is really allied to the pararnnesic state ; (2) enfeeblement
of perception, due to the presence of a state of general psychic enfeeble-
ment, whether in individuals of high or low intelligence, is the chief
and possibly essential character of paramnesia, although 'there may
be a subjective sensation of increased power ; (8) this enfeeblement
may alone account for the paramnesia by bringing an externally aroused
perception down to a lower and fainter stage in which it is on a level
with an internally aroused perception a memory. Just as in hypnagogic.
paramnesia the vivid and life-like dream or internal impression is raised
to the class of memories and becomes the shadow of a real experience,
so in waking paramnesia the external impression is lowered to the
same class. Perception is alike dulled in each case, and the immediate
experience follows the line of least resistance this time too carelessly
or too prematurely to join the great bulk of our experiences.
HAVBLOCK ELLIS.
THE LATE PEOFESSOR WALLACE.
Prof. Wallace was a striking figure and an individual force in the
English philosophical revival. His position in the movement was unique,
and his influence therefore invaluable. A philosopher with his whole
heart and mind, an original thinker, trained to accurate scholarship and
possessed of immense learning, he has not associated his name with any
independent treatise on a philosophical subject. It is possible that, had
his life continued to its natural term, we might have been made the
richer by some direct creation of his mind, free from " the interposition of
historical form and material, which cuts off a great majority of the world
from any direct access to truth ". 1 Many reasons for his attitude might be
suggested. He felt the influence, we may perhaps conjecture, and partly
shared the critical reserve, of his predecessor, T. H. Green, and of the late
Master of Balliol, to whom his most considerable work was dedicated.
They worked, the former largely, the latter almost wholly, through
criticism and commentary, and he followed their example, though in far
other fields. His temperament, too, urged him in this direction. He
loved great individualities ; he was happiest and most expansive when
challenging the sympathy of an audience for some great man, decried
or misunderstood. Epicurus and Schopenhauer in his delightful writings,.
Epicurus, Eousseau, Wordsworth, even Nietsche, in his still more
delightful popular lectures, were presented so that the reader or hearer
was abashed at the meanness and triviality of his former conceptions of
them. The lecture on Epicurus was reported verbatim and survives ; the
others, so far as I know, are a lost music.
His profession contributed to determine the character of his pub-
lished work. He became in 1882 Whyte's Professor of Moral
Philosophy in the University of Oxford, and the duties of his Chair,
added to the labour of a College tutorship, were sufficient to make
systematic original production all but impossible ; impossible, that
is, for any one whose professorial lectures were, like his, the immediate
deliverance of a full heart and mind, spoken, as a rule, without a single
note.
His main achievement, then, as matters actually stand, and without
1 Wallace, Life of Schopenhauer, p. 21.
288 NOTP:S.
drawing into account the MSS. which may remain, was the translation
and interpretation of Hegel's Logic and Philosophy of Mind, and it may
be that even if possessed of full leisure, he would still have chosen this
task. No one else could have done it as he has done it ; and its accom-
plishment was essential to making the roots and reasons of modern
idealism a secure possession of the English mind. His interest in Hegel
was for his whole life what his interest in Eousseau or Epicurus was for
his mere passing moods. It was a supreme example of his great passion ;
to understand, to enter into a leading intelligence, and to make its most
withdrawn and difficult ideas in their bearing on human life, the common
property of at least the student world. Readers frequently complain
that they can get nothing definite out of the Prolegomena to Hegel's Logic.
The same difficulty is hardly present in the same measure when we turn
to the chapters which introduce the Philosophy of Mind ; but the com-
plaint means at bottom that the author demands of his readers something
of the same effort which he makes himself. He has not indeed any trace
of the obscurity and heaviness of style which the professional philosopher
so seldom escapes. But he approaches his subject by going all round it
and surveying it ; he tells you, apparently, of the environment in which
a problem arose, of the moral or political need which gave it birth, of its
antecedents, of the familiar intellectual processes and beliefs which it
concerns, of the fallacies which illustrate it. And no doubt all this may
seem circuitous, perhaps irrelevant. But those who care, and persevere,
and let their minds play upon the subject, will find that the details have
a life in them, and that, as has been said of one of his public lectures,
after hearing about all sorts of seemingly unconnected things, you
become at last aware that you see a thought which has all the time been
growing up before you. And the positive knowledge which displays
itself throughout these volumes was almost a new feature in the Idealist
movement, and surely a necessary one. Study of Kant, indeed, has not
been wanting ; but, not to speak of Hegel himself, how little English
writers know of Schelling, Fichte, and Herbart ; how little they grasp in
its entirety the movement which for good or evil they have to deal with.
We are only now approaching a real knowledge and judgment of the
great idealist period ; and that we are likely to possess anything of the
kind must be set down mainly to the work done by Wallace.
Of his definite views those which concern Psychology are perhaps at
this moment of greatest interest. Psychology, he seems to say, may be
carried on as a natural science, or as a branch of philosophy. 1 From the
relation, which its problem implies, to man as such, the normal or
typical man, it follows that ultimately a philosophical bearing cannot be
denied to it. And even if we take it as a natural science, he still is of
opinion, as I read him, that experimental psychology is largely at the
mercy of criticism in respect to the absence of clear method and purpose
in its experimentation. In this view he associates himself with
Miinsterberg, but probably attaches a significance to it which goes
beyond Mtinsterberg's meaning.
And I have mentioned this matter, partly because it indicates the
ultimate interest of Prof. Wallace's life. As Herbart says of Psy-
chology, so Wallace could say of all Philosophy, that Man at his best
is the real object matter. That was what he cared about ; and he
went through the toil of logic and philosophical history because he
believed, as he has indicated more than once, that these laborious
pilgrimages are necessary stages in the ascent of man to lay hold upon
his true self and his true religion.
B. BOSANQUET.
1 Hegel's Philosophy of Mind, p. Ivii.
NEW SERIES. No. 23.] []ULY, 1897.
MIND
A QUARTERLY REVIEW
OF
PSYCHOLOGY AND PHILOSOPHY.
I. TYPES OF WILL. 1
BY ALEXANDEE F. SHAND.
I. SIMPLE VOLITION.
THERE are tendencies in us /of which we do not foresee the
consequences, there are others of which we do. There are
conations that are blind, and also foreseeing conations. Our
instinctive impulses, at first unconscious of their end, as
we grow up attach to themselves ideas and foresight. Yet
they at times surprise us by their suddenness and unfamiliar
character. They impel us to actions that we on reflexion
disown because we do not recognise ourselves in them. 2 For
we did not foresee their tendencies, therefore we could not
subordinate them to any conscious end. "We had neither
the opportunity of accepting or of rejecting them. Hence
we disown them as not part of our conscious self, as inde-
pendent of the ends which it sets before itself. But do we
disown them because they are relatively unorganised ? Our
primitive impulses are at least organised in this sense : they
are subordinated to the end of preserving the life of the
species and the individual. None the less we disown any
impulse that is not also organised in one of the systems
of thought which are our conscious interests and sentiments.
If it has sprung up independently of them, and thwarts
1 Bead before the Aristotelian Society.
2 See Fouillee's Temperament et Caradtre, p. xiv.
19
290 ALEXANDER F. SHAND :
their volitions, we say that it thwarts us, and we call its
action involuntary. And, irrespective of its degree of
organisation, we will not be held responsible for it, except
and so far as it rises into consciousness and comes within
the control of our voluntary self.
As far as consciousness is concerned the lowest level of
the conative development is the blind conation that carries
no idea of the end to which it is directed ; and we are gener-
ally agreed not to call this type volition. All other conations
carry an idea of their end or object. Desire and aversion
are such conations, but mere desire or aversion is not called
will. Yet we are not consistent in this point of view. An
unopposed desire is often impulsively realised, and we call
that impulsive will. If we are angry with some one, ideas of
hurting or paining him occur, and we sometimes find the
pain or injury has been inflicted without any prior conscious-
ness on our part that we were going to inflict it. If we
are reproached for the action, we say we did not " mean " to
do it. For the idea absorbing attention, and strengthened
by the emotional impulse; has straightway realised itself
without, as far as we can detect, requiring any other subjec-
tive condition for its accomplishment. Are we to call this
type volition ? According to the general opinion of psycho-
logists, we should have to include it. An action that results
from desire we call voluntary ; for it is preceded and partly
determined by a conscious idea, by desire and attention. We
can hardly call it non-voluntary, because of the presence of
these constituents ; and involuntary or against will it cer-
tainly is not. Yet if the action be voluntary, the state
which precedes it is volition. But this state is mere desire
with attention, and, did it not determine action, we certainly
should not call it will. Does, then, desire only become
volition so far as the idea of its end becomes realised in
whole or part, and is that sequence what we mean by
volition ? Prof. Bibot maintains that we reduce volition
to an abstraction if we exclude its motor effects and accom-
paniments, that as an internal state it cannot be distinguished
from a logical operation of the intellect. 1 And, in Mr.
Bradley's opinion, the idea producing its existence is
volition. 2 Yet this view, according to Mr. Stout, is a
mistake. "The question," he remarks, "as to the nature
of a certain mode of consciousness is quite independent
of the question whether or not this mode of conscious-
1 Les maladies de la volonte, p. 29.
2 MIND, vol. xiii., p. 25.
TYPES OF WILL. 291
ness will be followed by a certain train of occurrences in the
organism and in the environment." * And it will be difficult
for any one who has reflected on the type of abortive volition
in involuntary actions to any longer maintain that the real-
isation of the idea is essential to volition. 2 As, then, mere
desire with attention is not will, nor becomes will in the
realisation of its end, it follows that impulses realised with-
out attention certainly are not. Cases of this kind occur in
all habitual actions. Their conation is not altogether blind,
but the vague idea of an action arises outside the area of
attention, and is apparently realised without coming within
that area. As Prof. Sully remarks : " It is only when I have
to do something new and unfamiliar that I need to realise
with the maximum distinctness, by a special concentration
of attention, the idea of the object or end and the idea of the
required action". 3
There are, then, three types that progressively approxi-
mate to will without quite revealing its specific char-
acter : (1) Conations that are blind ; (2) Conations that
vaguely foresee and accomplish their ends ; (3) Conations
that clearly foresee, or, through attention, accomplish their
ends.
We come next to the more deliberate and developed types
where, between desire and its satisfaction, the judgment
intervenes that we are going to satisfy it. This judgment
must be carefully distinguished from the idea of the action
on which it is based. The judgment is a further develop-
ment of it. We have the idea of an action before we decide ;
we may doubt, we may question, we may judge that we
perhaps will realise it before the definite judgment occurs
that we are going to realise it. Here for the first time we
seem to come within the radius of will ; for, if the action
or end be not realised, we still should not hesitate to call
that desire a volition which we had admitted to our-
selves we were going to satisfy. Accordingly we find this
definition given by Mr. Stout : " Volition is a desire quali-
fied and defined by the judgment that, so far as in us
lies, we shall bring about the attainment of the desired
end ". 4 Now this judgment has not time to develop in
ordinary impulsive action. It is where desire cannot at
once find an outlet for its impulse that the pause occurs
1 " Voluntary Action," MIND, N.S., vol. v., p. 355.
2 See " Attention and Will," ibid., vol. iv., pp. 461, 463.
3 The Human Mind, vol. ii., p. 225.
4 Op. cit., p. 356.
292 ALEXANDER F. SHAND :
before action in which the reflective judgment, I shall do
this thing, finds its opportunity. If we are indignant at
an insult and cannot at once avenge ourselves, if we
pity some one's distress and cannot immediately relieve it,
we are then so often aware in the persistence of our feeling
that we are going to relieve this distress or going to avenge
ourselves.
And this judgment may occur in a mental state that
amounts to only a simple volition. It may be preceded by
no doubt and conflict of motives. The obstruction in the
way of desire may be due to outward circumstances and not
to an opposite desire. For my pity or my anger may possess
me for the time being, so that other desires are excluded.
In this case there is no choice, no selection of one end and
rejection of an opposite end. Simple volition may then be
defined as that mental state in which a single desire culmin-
ates in the judgment of attentive thought that we are going
to realise its end. And complex volition in distinction from
it will be preceded by doubt and a conflict of motives, and
the decisive judgment in which it culminates will select the
end of one of the conflicting motives. In both the judg-
ment appears as the distinguishing character of will, as that
which distinguishes the prior state of desire from volition ;
and the character of the judgment in both is positive and
categorical.
II. WILL AS NEGATION.
We often experience that mental state in which the idea
of some action arises, and the responsive attitude of the self
is at once defined in the judgment : "No, I shall not do that".
In healthy minds, where virtue is a habit, such a negative
volition is the normal attitude when they feel tempted by
some vicious propensity. In pathological cases of fixed ideas
where we are struggling not to realise the action which an
idea represents, or not to attend to the idea itself, we may also
have no positive and complementary end in view ; our voli-
tion may be confined to the idea of not doing or not attend-
ing. How are we to interpret this negative character if
volition always contains the positive idea of doing something
developed into the positive judgment that w T e are going to do
it ? Is negation a positive judgment in disguise ? That we
are not going to realise an idea where we are conscious that
it has a strong tendency to pass into action, means that we
are going to restrain it, and that is surely something posi-
tive. Seeing that the absorption of attention by the idea
TYPES OF WILL. 293
indirectly aids its realisation, we may will not to attend to it.
And not to attend to it means that we shall attend else-
where, to objects among which it is not found, from which it
is absent. But can we give any positive interpretation of
absence? If you are trying to restrain a reflex tendency,
as the impulse to yawn or cough, the object of your volition
is that the yawn or cough shall not become fact. Being
an idea, it shall at most remain an idea, and shall be absent
from the circle of what we call fact. But ' absence '
means that it is not within the circle. What then is there
positive about your volition ? Are you willing to maintain
the status quo, to permit the idea of the event, but not the
event itself? Even in this case the negative element reap-
pears as complement of the positive ; for you cannot think of
maintaining the status quo without thinking that certain
changes which would destroy it shall not take place. Thus
we cannot resolve negative volition into positive, even where
we can show that the one logically implies the other. The
positive is only a complement of it, and is incapable of sup-
plying its place. Negative thought is unique, and this
fact accounts for that type of volition in which the
uniqueness of negative thought is employed in the
characterisation of the end.
This uniqueness of negative thought penetrates also con-
ations which are not will. What we call aversion seems
to be a combination of desire and negative thought. If I
have aversion for anything, I desire to escape from it ; not
to be near it, not to see it. If I have aversion for an end,
I desire not to accomplish it. There are then negative
desires as well as negative volitions.
In the treatment of negative thought, which has been so
closely associated with logic, we must guard against confusing
the distinct characters of logical and psychological analysis.
In logic, negative thought necessarily involves a positive and
positive thought a negative. If we have asserted that a man
is honest, we are logically bound to deny that he forges other
people's signatures or cheats at cards. The validity of the
positive assertions involves the validity of the negative
assertions, and conversely every negative involves some
positive assertion. Logical analysis endeavours to discover
what a content of thought involves or presupposes. It does
not regard this content as an existing psychical fact, nor the
judgments it presupposes as existing co-presented psychical
facts. Psychology, on the other hand, deals with thought
only as a psychical fact occurring in an individual mind, and
having that specific character which justifies our designating
294 ALEXANDER F. SHAND :
it by the general term, thought. Aud psychological analysis
endeavours to discover what this fact actually contains, as
negative or positive thought, in its particular context ; not
what it logically involves. Hence the two sciences from
their different standpoints, from the different character of
their analyses, will reach different conclusions, which rightly
understood are in no way inconsistent with one another. We
can illustrate the different character of the analyses and the
different conclusions to which they lead in the present in-
stance. In the psychological analysis of negative volition,
we have to consider whether the negative actually present in
its psychosis is co-presented with a positive thought which is
its logical complement. In resolving not to attend to one
object I must logically judge that I shall attend to another,
or relapse into that sentient state in which all selective
attention seems to be extinguished. In resolving not to
do this I must logically judge that I shall do that, or at least
maintain the present state : for the negative involves the
positive. But in the resolution not to accomplish one end,
there is not always as a psychical fact the positive resolution
to accomplish some other end in place of it. In the negative
volition, " No, I shall not do that," the idea of doing some-
thing else or maintaining the present state may not occur :
the volition may be confined to the idea of not doing or not
attending. But without the occurrence of the idea a supple-
mental positive volition is impossible. So also a positive
volition may resolve to accomplish what it anticipates in
idea without rejecting other alternatives which are incon-
sistent with its purpose, without even the idea of them
occurring. Still, in the negative volition, " I shall not
do that," we must in the sequel do something else or
maintain our present state, although we may have had no
prevision of this positive result. But its occurrence is
obviously conditioned by the fact of the negative volition.
In escaping from one object, we, as a matter of fact, pursue
after another, and the direction we take is conditioned by
the direction we avoid. In resisting temptation, we attend
to objects from which it is excluded, and the negative volition
conditions the positive movement of attention. In fact as
"negative conditions positive apperception," 1 so negative
volition conditions and has as its psychical complement
some positive conation. We may then lay down this general
theory. All negative volition is as a psychical fact accom-
panied by some positive conation : all positive volition by
1 Analytic Psychology, G. F. Stout, vol. ii., p. 144.
TYPES OF WILL. 295
some negative and inhibitory conation. But this conation
has often no foresight of its end, still less does it develop
into volition. In pure negative volition, the positive conation
is blind. In pure positive volition, the negative conation
is blind. In the mixed type, both the positive and negative
conations supplementing one another have developed the
volitional character.
The logical doctrine that all negative involves positive
thought cannot then be interpreted in psychology to mean
that all negative thought is actually accompanied by a
positive, nor consequently that all negative volition is
actually accompanied by positive. And were this not the
fact, all simple volition would be resolved into complex
volition or choice. Before every voluntary action we should
have the idea of some alternative action, and volition would
be the choice which, accepting the one alternative, consciously
rejected the other. That our deliberate and purposive actions
correspond to this type is perhaps obvious ; and we might
define choice as the mixed type of positive and negative
volition. That our more sudden and habitual actions
not so sudden nor so habitual but that we, in some measure,
anticipate them in idea and foresee their accomplishment
that these also correspond to this type is a supposition which
an impartial study of the facts does not favour. From blind
conation to deliberate purpose there is an unbroken chain of
development and complication. At the first stage we have
actions vaguely foreseen, at the next, attended to, then
developed into the assurance or judgment that we are going
to accomplish them, at which stage, in agreement with the
common usage of the word, we have named them simple
volitions, lastly still further complicated by the representation
of alternative actions. Shall we say that as soon as the third
stage is reached and the knowledge of what we are going to
do arises, the knowledge of what our intended action also
excludes must arise with it ? We had better surely take in
the first place, as a more reasonable hypothesis, the theory
which represents the conative development as steady and
uniform, and not heap upon any one stage of it the growth
and complications which are more likely to have been arrived
at in the course of several.
We must then modify our preliminary definition of will if
we are to interpret the present type. It is not the positive
judgment, "I am going to do this," which is the distinguishing
character of volitional conations. In pure or unmixed
negative volition, we have no idea of any end that we
are going to accomplish, we have only an idea of a result
296 ALEXANDER F. SHAND :
or end that we are not going to accomplish. The dis-
tinguishing character of will is either a judgment that we
are going, or not going, to accomplish an end, or some
mixture of both judgments. What is common to all we
have not discerned, unless it be that their character is cate-
gorical.
III. HYPOTHETICAL AND DISJUNCTIVE WILL.
Those constituents of our thought-attitude to objects that
we name the categorical, problematic, disjunctive, and hypo-
thetical, are not tied to judgments. The logical text-books
regard them as forms of judgment, and recognise no signi-
ficance in the fact that they penetrate also other attitudes of
thought. Indeed their common character is their mobility
united to a strictly dependent nature. They pass from
thought to thought, but can never subsist by themselves.
Thus our questions, as well as our judgments, may assume
a hypothetical, disjunctive, or problematic form ; and even
our supposals. I may say, "Let us argue no more, but
assume that this is probably the case, and see what follows
from this assumption ; " or, " If one or other of these alterna-
tives is true, what inference can be drawn from that sup-
posal ? " And these mobile elements that attach themselves to
the fundamental types of thought are not even confined by
the circle of them ; but some, though not all, project them-
selves into our volitions. "If he persist in his present
behaviour, I shall leave," is a genuine hypothetical volition,
as " I shall travel via Calais or Boulogne" is one of a dis-
junctive type. And although both judgments are problem-
atic in a sense, as both, at a point, infected with doubt, yet
if we introduce doubt at another we destroy their volitional
character. " I may travel," " I probably shall leave," are not
volitions. The problematic element introduced at this point
in whatever degree, from mere possibility up to almost com-
plete certitude, is incompatible with the fact of volition ; and
if I am not quite convinced that if something happen I shall
act, or that I shall definitely go to the one place or the other,
there can be no will. While in the state antecedent to
choice we are not sure what we are going to do, while in
the state subsequent to weak volitions we again relapse into
doubt, the moment of volition is a moment of belief. Full
undoubting belief embraces it at a point, though over all the
rest doubt may range in all its degrees. Thus I may be
doubtful as to my success, but I am certain that I shall try.
Our volitions are categorical, disjunctive, hypothetical, posi-
TYPES OF WILL. 297
tive and negative, but problematic in this sense they cannot
be.
Yet these hypothetical and disjunctive volitions are pe-
culiar in their structure, and disturb all our accounts and
definitions of will. In the one we do not judge that we are
going to do anything. We resolve, yet without resolving
to do that which we have in mind, and without resolv-
ing not to do it. What is certain and above doubt, where
everything depends on a supposal? Yet the volition is cer-
tain, of something I am quite sure. I am quite sure that
I shall act provided something else happen. But I am
not sure I shall act, because I am not sure " something
else " will happen. I am only sure of the relation of
dependence between two events, the condition and my
consequent action, but not of the happening of either. I
am sure that this relation is the result of my will: I will
this relation of dependence : that is the object and end of
my volition.
Now we have always supposed that in volition we think
of the idea as about to become fact. But in hypothetical
volition, what is this idea? " If he continue in his present
behaviour, I shall leave." It is not the continuance of his
present behaviour that I will shall become fact, nor yet the
idea of my leaving. What I will is that the one event shall
produce the other. Yet we cannot eliminate the unique
hypothetical character of the volition ; for it is only on the
supposition that the first event occurs that I will it to produce
the second event. And this causal relation cannot occur
without the happening of the first event ; but, as I do not
will the happening of the first event, I cannot even will the
occurrence of this causal relation. I will that nothing shall,
in point of fact, take place ; but as before my volition oc-
curred the continuance of his present behaviour might have
produced any one of several consequences, the end of my
volition is that it shall produce definitely one of them,
namely, the fact of my leaving, and yet shall produce this
one result only on the supposition that his conduct be not
changed. This hypothetical form of the volition is irresolv-
able ; we can neither analyse it into a categorical volition,
nor interpret it by this type of will. Categorical volitions
affirm that I am going or not going to do something : hypo-
thetical volitions do not affirm that I am going to do any-
thing.
It has been maintained by some logicians that the hypo-
thetical may be reduced to a categorical judgment ; and here,
as in the treatment of negative volition, we must be careful
298 ALEXANDER F. SHAND :
not to confuse what a content of thought logically involves
with what an occurring thought actually contains. It is true
that the hypothetical judgment involves a categorical. " If
he persist in his present behaviour, I shall leave" involves a
categorical judgment as to his objectionable conduct. Nay
more, this judgment has actually occurred, and its occurrence
has been a psychical condition of the volitional attitude which
succeeds to it. But, as categorical, it does not make a
definite action in the future conditional on the persistence
of his objectionable conduct. The categorical judgment
contains no supposal ; and the hypothetical cannot therefore
be resolved into it. The hypothetical psychologically contains
a supposal, but contains no judgment. If the categorical
judgment persist, it is co-presented with the hypothetical,
but not contained in it, as, " His conduct is objectionable ; I
shall leave if it continue ". We must therefore conclude that
although the hypothetical logically involves, it neither con-
tains nor can be analysed into a categorical judgment,
but is, in respect of its supposal, a distinctive attitude of
thought.
If we take next the disjunctive type of will, "I shall go
either to Calais or Boulogne," it may be said that this does
contain a categorical volition. It is certain that we are
going to travel, but we are in doubt w'hether our temporary
destination shall be Calais or Boulogne. We may say that
the only volition is this categorical judgment that we are
going to travel, and that in the undecided thought that we
shall go either to Calais or Boulogne there is no will. But
suppose that we have excluded other alternatives, that we
have settled not to go to Havre or Dieppe, and have de-
finitely confined ourselves to the alternative of Calais or
Boulogne, then over and above a vague resolution to travel,
there is the more definite resolution that we shall travel
either to Calais or Boulogne. Instead of containing more
doubt, this disjunctive volition contains less ; and you cannot
reduce it to the vaguer categorical volition which may have
preceded it. But we may ask : Is it our previous type of
hypothetical will differently expressed ? for, if I do not go to
Calais, I shall go to Boulogne, and if not to Boulogne, to
Calais. But neither of these hypothetical taken separately
commits me to the alternative of one or the other. " If I do
not go to Calais I shall go to Boulogne," does not tell me what
must happen if I do go to Calais. Neither of these hypo-
theticals taken separately is then a disjunctive volition.
Each tells me what will follow from a given supposal.
Neither tells me that this supposal must become fact, nor
TYPES OF WILL. 299
what will follow from the alternative supposal. But is the
disjunctive volition the combination of both hypotheticals ?
If we think of both together " Suppose I do not go to Calais,
I shall go to Boulogne," and " Suppose I do not go to Boulogne,
I shall go to Calais " and become conscious of their mutual
relations, we reach the conclusion, whether logically valid
or not, that I shall go to Boulogne or Calais. Our two
judgments have been succeeded by a single judgment ; and
do we suppose that its psychosis gathers up and contains
them as psychical facts ? Their " Suppose I go to Calais " and
"Suppose I go to Boulogne" have given place to a definite "I
shall go to the one town or the other ". They are only the
psychical conditions on which this new disjunctive judgment
is dependent. And assuming what is certainly not the psy-
chical fact, that we always reach a disjunctive volition
through first reflecting on two or more such hypothetical
volitions, none the less it is not a combination, nor a putting
of them side by side. Before it can occur their attitude of
supposal must give place to a single assertorial attitude.
Hypothetical volition does not assure me that anything will
become fact : disjunctive volition assures me that, so far at
least as I am concerned in its production, something will
become fact. The judgment of hypothetical volition does
not affirm that I am going to do anything ; the judgment of
disjunctive volition affirms that I am going to do one thing
or another.
Our bias for analysing one form of thought into another
will receive a good many checks of this sort before we
recognise that the forms of thought and conation are unique
differentiations.
In distinguishing will from mere conations, we have
been led to emphasise the judgment into which some
conations develop as that which is distinctive of will.
But the form of this judgment is not exclusively cate-
gorical, disjunctive or hypothetical, affirmative or nega-
tive ; and if we rely on the form alone and expect to find
the qualitative difference of will within this form, we shall
be disappointed. For we can easily construct hypothetical
and disjunctive judgments similar to those we have just
considered, which we can see at a glance are not volitions.
"If he is there I shall see him," has the same form as the judg-
ment "If he is there I will see him," yet the one is a mere
judgment, the other also a volition. Nor is it that in the
one the conation of desire is absent, in the other, present.
For I may desire to see him in both cases ; but in the one this
leads to a state of expectancy, in the other, to a state of will.
300 ALEXANDER F. SHAND :
Propositions of the same form and in the same person ex-
press both. They differ in only a single word, and the use
of the word " shall" in the context of the one indicates that
the meaning is a mere judgment, and the word " will " in the
other, that the judgment contains also a volition. So also
the disjunctive judgment, " I shall go either to Calais or
Boulogne," contains a volition, while the -similar judgment,
" I shall go or I shall not," is so pervaded by doubt as to
exclude the possibility of will.
We cannot then rely on the form of these judgments ; all
depends on what they actually contain. And we can vaguely
recognise two essential characters of this content. " If you
are there I shall see you " is not will ; " If you are there
I shall make a point of seeing you " is. In the one judg-
ment there is an emphasis laid on the agency of the self
which is wholly absent from the other. Yet, in other
cases which also in a sense concern the self's agency, the
hypothetical judgment expresses no more than expectation.
" If I am tempted in that way I shall succumb " does not
imply a present volition on my part to yield to temptation,
but a mere expectation based on an experience of my
own weakness. Yet in both judgments I affirm that I
shall act in a certain way on the supposition of some event
occurring.
The other essential character of will has been brought out
by our study of the disjunctive judgment. That judgment
is always affected by doubt at a point, and is, in this sense,
problematic : but where it contains volition there is always a
core of belief. It is difficult to point out this core of belief,
for it is to the fact of volition that it essentially refers ; and
if we cannot point out the volition in the complex psychosis
which contains it, we cannot specify the belief. This belief
is not always that I shall accomplish what I intend ; for I
may be doubtful of success. It is not essentially a belief that
I shall do anything ; for my volition may rest on a supposal ;
nor even that I shall try to do something, for this also may
rest on a supposal. But unless I believe, unless I am aware
for the belief is a judgment that, conditionally or un-
conditionally, I shall try to do something, there can be no
will.
IV. FICTITIOUS CHOICE.
We may draw the line between conation and will where
the former divides into two contrary tendencies, each carrying
an idea of its end. We may maintain that we cannot be said to
will, and can have no sense of freedom where there is not
TYPES OF WILL. 301
present before action a second and alternative idea, even if
it be only the negative idea of not doing that to which the
first idea impels us. Volition or " selective action," says
Prof. Titchener, " arises where we have in consciousness the
materials of two different impulses, where two compound
ideas of object and result are both alike supplemented by the
idea of one's own movement, and the attention oscillates
from the one to the other," accompanied by doubt and the
" mood of indecision ", l In this narrower use of the term,
volition is synonymous with choice ; and what we have taken
to be simple volitions, where only one end is represented
before action, can be no more than conations. As we have
already the term ' choice,' which clearly designates this
complex type, it would seem better and more in consonance
with the common usage to allow the wider term ' will ' to
include our simple varieties.
Complex volition or choice is preceded by doubt and con-
flict. It is "the mental state which emerges when the pro-
cess of conflict ceases because it has worked itself out to a
definite conclusion ". 2 The conflicting desires which in the
state of indecision appeared as motives, now " disappear
or appear only as obstacles" 3 on the same plane with
any other difficulty in the way of achievement. But the
presence of conflicting desires is not the choice between
them. One or both may disappear before any decision is
arrived at. Where there is choice they must culminate
in the definite judgment that, conditionally or uncondi-
tionally, we are going to realise the end of one of them.
The process of attention which persists throughout must
undergo this modification. Choice, like simple volition,
will appear to consist "in a certain kind of judgment or
belief". 4
If you ask a child which of two playthings he would like
to have, he hesitates before he chooses. His doubt may last
an appreciable time or pass in a moment, but in either case
it is abolished by a process of thought. By a comparison of
the two objects, he decides between them. He has to find
an answer to the question suggested to him, "Which do I like
more?" and his judgment that he prefers this and not the
other object is completed in the volition, " I will have this ".
Note that the mind is probably determined at the outset by
1 Outline of Psychology, pp. 254-255.
2 Analytic Psychology, by G. F. Stout, vol. i., p. 131.
3 G. F. Stout, MIND, N.S., vol. v., p. 337.
4 Ibid., p. 356.
302 ALEXANDER F. SHAND :
the idea of the stronger liking, it is only in doubt which this
is. This determination is partly due to the question proposed
to it. If that question had been, "Which plaything will teach
you more?" the idea of utility, in spite of its unattractiveness to
the mind of the child, might have aroused a momentary con-
flict with his inborn tendency to be guided by the stronger
liking. But here the issue is simple and restricted from
the outset. The child's mind is made up before it chooses,
all that is left undecided is on which side its liking is
stronger. When again we are on a journey, and in doubt
which of two routes to choose, yet decided to take the
shorter, a similar process of thought, where evidence is at
hand, develops the selective judgment that abolishes the
conflict, the doubt and the question. And even when in
youth we deliberate what shall be our profession, if we hap-
pen to be either prudently decided to adopt that which
would be most for our interest, or, on the other hand, to
follow our strongest inclination, a process of thought essen-
tially the same, though more complex and prolonged, develops
the decisive judgment which displaces it. In all similar
cases, whether, as in the first, the question is, " Which of two
objects is the better in some respect? " or, as in the second,
" Which is the shorter way to our destination ? " or, as in the
third, "Which end is better in this or that respect?" and
where we are decided at the outset, whether knowingly
or not, to choose the better in the way we have conceived
it, then our choice is the judgment in w T hich the state of
doubt and conflict culminates. Note, however, that this
judgment is not merely an answer to a question asked by
the intellect, but also somewhere implies will " Which
shall I take?" "What shall I do?" "What shall I be?"
And the answer, " This," does not only contain the judg-
ment, " This is better," but, fused into one with it, the
further judgment, "I will take This," "I will do This," "I
will be This".
What this double aspect implies will become clearer to us
if we modify the kind of question to which our choice is the
answer. If instead of asking, "Which shall I take?" "What
shall I do?" "What shall I be?" we ask, "What will be given
to me?" "What will be done to me?" "What shall I become?"
we feel that the answer to these three questions cannot reveal
will, while the answer to the former, in the common mean-
ing of the word, must reveal it. There is a difference be-
tween them. The questions that provoke will have a specific
character distinguishing them from other questions. It is
obvious that the first three concern the agency of the self,
TYPES OF WILL. 303
while the second ask what will be given, done, or happen
to the self. And their answers correspond. The first three
affirm that the self is to be an agent in taking, doing or be-
coming something : the second that the self is to be a
patient, as the recipient of a gift, as suffering some action,
as undergoing some transformation of character. Complex
volition or choice is then a judgment of the self's agency. It
is the outcome of such a doubt and question as must, if it
be answered, result in choice. And it emerges when that
antecedent process " has worked itself out to a definite con-
clusion "- 1
But the three examples we have taken represent different
types : (1) The mind of the traveller is made up at the out-
set. He confines himself to the one question, " Which route
is shortest? " He is determined to take the shortest. Now
this set of his will may have been the outcome on a former
occasion of doubt, question and conflict, in which case it is
choice, according to our provisional definition. On the other
hand, it may not have been. The man may never have
asked, " Shall I take the shorter route or the more beautiful ? "
But his strong practical habits and commercial interests
may have determined his will without doubt or conflict, in
the only way that would seem reasonable to him. He
knows he is going to take the shorter route, and he has
never thought of taking any other. His initial determi-
nation is not choice, it is a simple not a complex voli-
tion. But its subsequent progress is marked by doubt,
question and conflict. The man now asks, "Which route is
shorter?" He is uncertain which. Still this conflict is
merely a conflict of ideas. The question is addressed only
to the intellect. It does not unsettle the will. It does not
mean, " What am I going to will ? " for that is already deter-
mined, but, "What am I going to know?" viz., whether this or
the other route will accomplish my preformed volition.
Where then is there a real choice ? A simple volition con-
trols the subsequent sequence and works out the means to
its own accomplishment. Doubt, question and conflict fol-
low, instead of as in real choice preceding, volition. The
complexity is a complexity of thought merely, and as far as
the will is concerned its choice is fictitious.
Still we may argue, The traveller has reached the conclu-
sion that he is going to take this and not the alternative
route. His judgment is will according to our definition; and
it follows a process of doubt and conflict and is, therefore,
1 MIND, N.S., vol. v., p. 131.
304 ALEXANDER F. SHAND :
choice. Our answer must be that his volition does not
appear for the first time in the conclusion. It has been
present to his mind from the beginning and persists through-
out. And the process of doubt, question and conflict is a
means to its end, because it provokes the knowledge of
which it stands in need. The will is not the outcome of
this conflict, and is therefore not choice, but subordinates
the conflict to the idea of its end.
(2) We have assumed that the traveller knew at the outset
that he would take the shortest route. A single dominant
conation is implied in the question he asked, in the fact that
he confined himself to this question. But he may not have
been conscious of this conation : he may not have known that
he would take the shortest route instead of the most beautiful.
In that case the initial set of his mind is blind conation ; a
set of the character, not a set of the will. Where then does
the will appear, where is there a real choice? As in the
last case, the doubt and question refer to the intellect.
There is a conflict of thoughts, not a conflict of desires.
And this intellectual process controlled by a blind conation
culminates in the judgment that this route is shortest. But
as soon as he reaches this conclusion, his blind conation
is illumined by a consciousness of his end, and the man
knows that he will take this route. Through knowledge,
conation has developed into will, and we realise the truth of
Mr. Stout's maxim that it is "the cognitive side of our
character which gives determinate character to the cona-
tive". 1
Still there is no choice, if choice means the selection be-
tween conflicting conations or motives. It is a simple
volition which coincides with a selection between ideas
controlled by a single motive. It is the fictitious choice of
judgment confused with the real choice of will because it is
fused into one psychosis with a simple volition : " This route
is shortest ; I will take it ". Here the first phrase expresses
the selective judgment, the second the simple and driven
will.
There is this difference between our two types. In the
first, a simple volition precedes and controls the process of
doubt which culminates in fictitious choice. In the second
it succeeds the process of doubt and conflict and coincides
with the moment of fictitious choice. And there is this in
common between them : in neither is there any conflict of
desires or motives.
1 MiND, N.S., vol. v., p. 356.
TYPES OF WILL. 305
(3) The case of the youth in easy circumstances and free
to do as he likes who is resolved to choose that profession for
which his inclination is strongest, yet in doubt as to which
is his strongest inclination, differs in a material respect from
both the preceding types. Here there is a genuine conflict of
desires. Different manners of life alternately appeal to him.
Each awakens a strong desire. He hesitates for long be-
tween them ; for the most intense may not be the most per-
sistent. At length, after many contrary opinions, he reaches
the momentous choice which decides his career. There is
surely nothing fictitious about this choice ! Where could
we find one more real to oppose to it ? Yet, as in the first
type, he starts from a volition, and the conflict of opinion
which follows is instrumental to it. The rival desires are
not motives to his will which is already decided, but motives
to his thought which has to decide which of them is the
stronger. And this decision or choice is obviously a judg-
ment, and the volition to which it is subordinate remains
essentially what it was at the beginning. Its end has indeed
changed, and through the process of thought has become
more definite. At first it was, " I will adopt that profession
which . . . " ; now it is, "I will adopt this profession ". But
if at the beginning it were simple as a volition, it is simple
now ; if it were a choice, it remains a choice. And the
decision between the conflicting desires is the fictitious
choice of judgment.
Conflicting desires are in a right sense only motives to the
will, where the will is the outcome of their conflict. Where
it precedes and subordinates them, they are not its motives.
Our resolutions are sometimes followed by the desire that
we had not made them. But if we remain steadfast the
desire is not a motive, and no more than an "obstacle " or
hindrance. Where it unsettles the will and throws us anew
into the state of doubt from which we had escaped, it is still
not a motive to that volition, but to the new volition which
tends to replace it. If the youth had asked, " After all, is it
not wiser to set aside my inclinations and adopt that pro-
fession which offers me solid advantages?" in that case, if
his resolution had given way, there would have ensued a
genuine conflict of motives. Torn between his preference for
one mode of life and the love of wealth or position directing
him to another, he would have been forced to choose be-
tween these conflicting motives or to remain undecided.
(4) We come next to the fourth type : the case of the child
who is called upon to choose between two playthings. If the
child ask itself which plaything is nicer, and ask itself no
20
306 ALEXANDER F. SHAND :
further question, then this question is witness to the pres-
ence of a conation which will be embodied in the judgment
which answers it, and will determine the action. This
conation is probably blind at the outset a blind set of the
will ; and it is never called in question or doubted. Only a
speculative difficulty remains ; and fixing attention alter-
nately on these two objects, it must let them play upon its
feelings until some difference between their intensities is pro-
duced ; and then, on the first recognition of a superiority on
one side or the other, its impulsive conation rushes into will
and self-consciousness in the judgment which signalises its
discovery, " This is nicer : I will have this ". Now here we
may suppose that both playthings appeal to the child's feel-
ings, that alternately he feels desire for both. There is then,
as in the last case, a conflict of desires ; and the will the
conscious will is the outcome of this conflict, and does not
as in the last case precede it. And these desires are motives
since the will chooses between them. Does it not follow
that this is a genuine and not a fictitious choice that the
choice is a volition and not the mere selective judgment
which fellows a disjunctive question? We must answer
this question in the affirmative if we hold by our definition
of will that it is not a blind but a foreseeing conation cul-
minating in the judgment that the self is going to accomplish
the event foreseen. And yet this result is not satisfactory.
We shall be inclined to reverse it, to apply to all our four
types the same treatment, and say : So far as there is any
will in the process, it is at the commencement, not at the
conclusion. All are types of fictitious choice; no one is real.
For the mind is made up at the commencement, and no-
thing occurs afterwards to alter the blind or conscious set of
its will ; all that follows is the light thrown by the intellect
upon the conflicting thoughts or desires, so that one of them
is seen to represent the object of this pre-existerit will. And
we are often disposed to take this broad view of the will.
Those deep forces within us which work for the most part
unseen, their tendencies unforeseen, whose objects only rise
into clear thought at times, and at the moment of action
are embodied in the judgment that we are going to fulfil
them, seem to us the real and abiding will, and their con-
scious expression an accident or momentary phase, the mere
play of thought upon their upmost surfaces.
We have come to distinguish two kinds of choice, fictitious
and real ; but the former is real as far as judgment is con-
cerned, fictitious only as far as will is concerned. The
weak introspection and analysis of ordinary thought confuses
TYPES OF WILL. 307
them, it applies the same term, 'choice,' to both; and it means
by the term a complex type of will. But one of them is
fictitious choice embodying only a simple volition. Fictitious
choice is not a selection between conflicting motives : it
may deal with desires and decide between them ; but its
decision is a judgment. It has like all judgment the
character of truth or falsity : and like all judgment which
resolves a doubt and disjunctive question, it selects one of
the conflicting ideas of the state of doubt : but it does not
select one of the conflicting motives. It may affirm that
one desire is better, the other worse ; that one is stronger,
the other weaker ; that one road is longer, the other shorter ;
and if the question has been which of them is better or
stronger, or shorter, it decides, selects, banishes doubt and
assumes the externals of a volition ; but its fictitious
character is most clearly exposed where it is followed by
a genuine choice which makes an opposite selection. It
may select the shorter, and the will may select the longer :
it may select the better, and the will may follow the worse :
it may select the stronger, and the will may reinforce the
weaker. The choosing will does not affirm the qualities of
its motives nor their relative strength, nor the best means to
their fulfilment : it simply decides between their rival cona-
tions. The will cannot judge in the sense of affirming what
is true or false. Its " I will do this " is neither true nor false
in the same sense in which a judgment is true or false : it
does not become true when its end is realised, nor false when
it fails. Though we may lie and say, "I will do this," meaning
it not, the lie attaches only to the judgment; and our inward
and hidden intent, though it only becomes self-conscious in
a judgment, is no more a judgment than desire is, and is
neither true nor false. We have seen in former types how
a judgment may assume the character of a simple volition ;
we see in the present type how it may assume the character
of complex volition or choice.
V. INVOLUNTARY ACTION.
An involuntary action is well defined by Mr. Stout to be
" one which takes place in opposition to a voluntary resolu-
tion which exists simultaneously with it and is not displaced
by it". 1 We often do what is contrary to our intention with-
out anticipating the result ; as where a child in trying to help
hinders some one. But the involuntary actions we are to
1 MIND, N.S., vol. v., p. 356.
308 ALEXANDER F. SHAND :
consider are partly produced by the strength of the idea
which represents them. Now when an idea produces the
action by its own strength and without any concurrent reso-
lution on our part, that is called ideo-motor action : when
an idea produces the action it represents not merely without
our concurrence, but in spite of a contrary resolution, that
we shall name involuntary ideo-motor action.
Conflict is of the essence of this type ; we strive to restrain
an idea of abnormal strength : we fail and our volition is
abortive. But as complex volition is also characterised by
conflict, we may perhaps find this type representative of real
choice.
The first sub-types we shall consider are those produced
through fear. A man struggles not to become confused or
dumfoundered through fear, and the idea of this result is
that which produces it ; or he resolves that an anxious idea
shall not interfere with some delicate operation he is con-
ducting which requires calmness and self-control ; or that
he will not attend to a horrible idea that is coming to fasci-
nate him. And this impulse of fear, which, when not too
intense, aids our escape from its object, here, through some
morbid development or excessive intensity, defeats its in-
stinctive end, and draws us to the very object we are striving
to avoid. Ordinarily when we recognise within us the
presence of such an overmastering fear, we at once concen-
trate all the energies of our will in resisting it. We pass
through no intervening state of doubt. We do not first ask
ourselves, " Shall I oppose it or shall I yield ?" and decide after
deliberation. Our action is immediate ; there is no " struggle
so far as regards our own part in the matter V If then the
precedence of such a struggle as this with doubt and question
is essential to complex volition or choice, if choice is the
mental state which arises when such a conflict ceases, then
there is no choice. And there can be no real choice without
a conflict of motives. But here there is only one motive
present, the desire to restrain the action the idea of which
persists. There is indeed another and contrary motive in a
different sense. There is something present which is moving
us to action, but it moves us to an involuntary not to a
voluntary action. It is not a motive to the w r ill but against
it. The conflict is then between a motive which the will
immediately supports and an obstacle to that volition. And
the doubt which so penetrates us at such times is not any
doubt as to what we are going to will, but whether we can
1 Op. cit.
TYPES OF WILL. 309
accomplish our volition. The mental state or psychosis can
then at most be a simple volition. But has it even reached
this stage of development ?
In considering the type of simple volition, we found that
an essential element of it was a judgment, in the common
type, a categorical judgment that we were going to accomplish
a desired end. But it appeared that this judgment only
occurred where a sufficient pause intervened between the desire
and its execution. Some obstacle delays the outrush of
desire, and in the interval we become conscious that we are
doing to satisfy our desire. Here also there is an obstacle,
and our desire finds itself constrained. But we are already
struggling against this obstacle before we recognise that we
are doing so. Our impulse to escape from any object we fear
is instinctive. A conscious volition may support this impulse,
but the impulse precedes it. Now, what we have to inquire
is whether an involuntary action does not sometimes occur
so suddenly through the fear that we have of doing it, that
the only conation that has time to develop for its restraint is
just such an instinctive impulse as fear always involves. In
learning to bicycle, people sometimes find that the mere
terror which seizes them at the thought of running into a
passing vehicle is sufficient to bring about the accident. On
such occasions, the thought which occurs to their minds, often
betrayed by their exclamation, is, "I know I shall run into
it ! " If fear left them time for reflexion before the acci-
dent, the second judgment, " I shall try not to," might also
occur as the revelation of a conscious will antagonistic to
the involuntary impulse. But there is no sufficient interval.
As soon as the first judgment occurs, the collision takes
place. In this strange type common to our experience,
but strange to our preconceptions of will we find an
involuntary tendency that apes the character of volition in
the judgment that we are going to accomplish the object
of that tendency, while the voluntary impulse opposed to
it never attains to this degree of development, but reaches
at most to the idea of not doing the action without culmi-
nating in the definite judgment that we are not going to do
it. Yet we should describe the collision as involuntary, and
we should say that it occurred in spite of our voluntary
effort. For, however unsuccessfully, we tried to avoid it ;
though our momentary effort was confused and overpowered
through fear of the accident. But according to our definition
of will, this effort is not volition, because it is instinctive and
precedes the idea of escape, and because this idea of escape
does not develop into the judgment that we shall try to
310 ALEXANDER F. SHAND :
escape. Were this judgment to occur, it would still succeed
and not precede our effort. It would not determine our
abortive effort : our abortive effort would determine it. It
would, in fact, be a mere recognition of what was actually
taking place, namely, our effort to escape. If, then, our
effort be not a volition, the triumph of the contrary idea and
judgment cannot produce an action involuntary or against
will. Here, again, we feel tempted to broaden our definition
of will. The effort which comes to our succour when some
morbid idea or sudden emotion threatens us with destruction,
however obscure it be, seems to us a genuine propulsion of
the will, and, as we should say, an effort of self-control.
Though it proceed not from the self as conscious thought,
it proceeds from the primitive self as a system of tendencies
instinctively organised for our preservation. And any impulse
that proceeds from this self and is subordinated to its end
seems will to us, so far at least as it gathers some idea of its
end, although the idea be subsequent to the impulse, not the
impulse to the idea. Where, on the other hand, an impulse
is provoked which is not subordinated to the instinctive end
of the organism or the conscious ends of the mind, though it
proceed from this primitive self, yet it is not will, because it
has escaped from the control of this self. The present case
is an example. An emotion of fear, through a too great in-
tensity, has defeated its instinctive end, and driven us to the
very object we should avoid. It has broken apart from that
instinctive organisation of the self, and therefore can be no
longer the will of that self. The fullest consciousness will
no longer make it will. And this we see clearly in the present
example. We have an idea of the accident before it takes
place, and, through the fear that possesses us, a consciousness
that we are about to fulfil this idea ; and yet this express
judgment that we regarded as distinctive of will does not
bring the impulse one degree nearer to volition than it
would have been had it remained a blind tendency.
On the other hand, successfully as this conception of will
interprets the present type, we should meet with many diffi-
culties if we put it forward as the essential character of
volition. Its definition is this : What the self does con-
sciously is will. And " does " means not merely what it out-
wardly accomplishes, but what it is striving to do, as in the
present thwarted impulse. Will then in this sense is the
conation of the self. From which it follows that the striving
of desire is will, whether or not we decide that we shall satisfy
our desire. But at least, in any right sense of the term, there
can only be one volition present at a given moment. Where
TYPES OF WILL. 311
we have contrary desires which then is will ? That which
proceeds from the self? But both proceed from the self,
belong to different sides or interests of that one self. One,
say, is the interest in our profession, the other, interest in
our country ; or, one is the sentiment of pleasure, the other,
the sentiment of duty. In all complex volition the self is
ambiguous, and it is only at the decisive moment when we
reject one desire and welcome its opponent that we know in
which line of tendency the self is henceforth manifest. Then
the self contracts. That which a moment before was one of
its motives has now become an "obstacle" and a not-self.
The volition has negatived it. It is excluded from the new
limits of the self. And, instead of the conation of the self
being ipso facto will, it is the conation which has become
will that constitutes the sentiment from which it precedes
the self. That mental system which has power to develop
will becomes the new self. And the mental system, say of a
fixed idea, though it culminate in the judgment of its pro-
spective triumph and realisation, where it cannot develop a
will, cannot become the self of the moment ; where it is
opposed by the will of another system it becomes a not-self ;
and all that proceeds from it is involuntary action. If we
are then compelled to maintain our former definition as
against this alternative conception of will, we cannot class
the present type with involuntary actions. We must call it
non- voluntary ideo-motor action.
In other cases fear produces genuine involuntary action.
The game of golf furnishes an excellent illustration of this.
It is one of the most deliberate games ever invented. We
are not called upon to face, as in cricket, a sudden situation
to which we must promptly adapt ourselves ; but before each
stroke we may exercise as much thought and deliberation as
we judge necessary. It is therefore peculiarly influenced by
the character and play of our ideas. In all difficult under-
takings confidence aids success ; but in varying degrees.
Here it is of so much importance that if we have an idea
that we shall fail in any particular stroke we commonly
do fail. Unreasonable fears disturb at times even good
players. The sight of a long distance of sand or water
will suggest to one that he will not succeed in driving
his ball across it, though he knows himself capable of the
achievement. And if he fail he will often tell you that he
knew that he was going to fail. This judgment has irresist-
ibly formulated itself in his mind through fear, though he is
conscious of a voluntary resolution opposed to it. His volun-
tary resolution cannot acquire the same degree of confidence.
312 ALEXANDER F. SHAND :
He cannot persuade himself that he knows he is going to
succeed, or ne probably would succeed. He knows only that
he is trying his best, depressed by the influence of an idea
that he cannot exclude. Here in this type we have an un-
doubted volition rendered abortive by a contrary idea and
judgment, and the result is an involuntary ideo-motor
action.
But how do we know that this action is involuntary?
Like the last type, it has aped the character of categorical
volition in the judgment that we are going to realise the
action. But if desire be essential to volition, the action
cannot be voluntary because we had no desire to accom-
plish it, but, on the contrary, a strong aversion.
Again in this type, as in the preceding, there is no choice,
if choice means the decision between rival motives. There
is only one motive present, the desire to succeed ; and the
fear of failure constitutes a mere obstacle to the volition in
which this desire results. Yet there is doubt and conflict
present ; but this concerns, not what we are going to decide,
but whether our resolution will be effective. It is a doubt
which is not a condition precedent of will, but complicates
its progress. Now the only distinction between this and the
preceding type of non-voluntary ideo-motor action is that
here the instinctive tendency to escape from the object we
fear has a sufficient interval to develop into a conscious voli-
tion in the judgment that I shall try to do that which fear
suggests to me I shall fail in doing.
In other cases of involuntary action, there may be a con-
flict of desires present. Thus in struggling to restrain a
reflex tendency, as Mr. Stout has well recognised, the impulse
of that tendency becomes defined as a desire. . To restrain a
yawn or cough is so disagreeable that we long to let it escape
and have done with it. On the other hand there is often an
opposite desire present, and to permit a reflex tendency to
escape may be ill-bred or even disgraceful ; while in other
cases, as where an army is on a march and complete silence
has to be maintained, a fit of coughing may endanger its
safety. And here the difficulty of distinguishing by the
presence of a judgment between will and the involuntary
tendency is at its climax. 1
But we are now prepared for this result. The judgment
that we were going to accomplish some end which, in our
first type, we assumed to be not merely an essential con-
stituent of will, but its distinctive constituent, that assump-
1 See Mr. Stout's article already referred to, p. 360.
TYPES OF WILL. 313
tion we have had to surrender. We have seen hypothetical
and disjunctive judgments which by their form are not to
be distinguished from hypothetical and disjunctive volitions ;
and in our present type we have merely discovered examples
of categorical judgments which ape the character of cate-
gorical volitions. There is indeed no reason why an
involuntary tendency, any less than will, when it is at the
point of accomplishing its end, should not become embodied
in the same kind of judgment, making known to us the
results which it is to bring about. We have to pass from
the judgment to what it actually contains, before we can
tell whether it embody an involuntary impulse or a volition.
If we ask, in the next place, whether, in restrainibg a
reflex tendency which has become a pressing desire, we
are exhibiting choice, it does not follow because there
are opposite desires present that there is any choice between
them. As in the third type of fictitious choice, the decision
between opposite desires was determined by a pre-existing
volition, and the decision itself was no other than a judgment
that decided which desire were stronger ; so here for another
reason there may be no choice, if choice is a volition preceded
by a genuine doubt as to the desire we are going to select.
As in the types of involuntary action due to fear, we decide
without hesitation, so here the escape of the reflex tendency
may be so disgraceful, or fraught with such serious conse-
quences, that we never doubt or ask ourselves whether we
should permit it to escape ; we decide at once to restrain
it. It may be objected that a moment before we decide to
restrain the reflex tendency, there must be some doubt as to
what we are going to decide ; but this objection would ex-
emplify that frequent source of error in our science named
by Prof. James " the psychologist's fallacy ". We, taking up
the standpoint of an external observer, may judge that there
is some uncertainty how the individual in question may act :
he may experience no such uncertainty, but as soon as he
recognises the conflicting tendencies, decide at once between
them. When the order has been given by a military com-
mander that, to surprise an enemy, the march must be
noiseless, it may be difficult and painful for some individual
to repress the tendency to cough, but the habit of military
obedience does not admit of any doubt rising in his mind as
to whether he should obey or satisfy a desire which is
becoming imperious. He at once resists it, and if it escape,
it escapes in spite of him. The volition is after all a simple
volition ; and the disciplined soldier cannot be said to choose
to obey his superior.
314 ALEXANDER F. SHAND :
And, lastly, in involuntary action there may be a genuine
choice rendered abortive by the triumph of the involuntary
impulse. It is, however, difficult to find any unambiguous
example of such a type. There are no doubt cases of morbid
ideas that possess and fascinate attention, which we resist at
times and at other times question whether we should an} 7
longer continue our futile resistance ; yet supposing we
resolved to continue it after such question and doubt, our
resistance is choice, but it does not follow it was persisted
in until the involuntary action escaped. What commonly
happens is that the involuntary impulse gathers fresh
strength and is suddenly realised without our thinking of
resisting it until too late. It is then only involuntary in
the sense of being opposed to a prior volition that we have
never consciousl} 7 revoked, but forgotten at the crucial
moment. Many of our actions that in strictness are non-
voluntary, as containing at that moment neither the volition
to do or not to do them, would in this sense fall w r ithin the
category of involuntary actions. Our good resolutions are
forgotten, but seldom revoked.
VI. WILL AS IMPERATIVE.
At the end of his long and brilliant chapter on the will,
after having shown in vivid illustration that its essential
character is effort of attending, Prof. James comes to recog-
nise that some complex types contain an additional consti-
tuent. This he frankly confesses he cannot analyse. We
may name it a consent, a fiat or imperative, but we can go
no farther : " the indicative and imperative moods are as
much ultimate categories of thinking as they are of gram-
mar ! " l
It is a curious fact that while we frequently use the im-
perative mood where our object is to control the conduct of
another, we seldom if ever use it at the moment of volition,
in the control of our own conduct. But if we listen to the
inward voices at times of stress and doubt, in the conflict
preceding choice, we find that they often address us in the
imperative mood. The moral sentiment so frequently adopts
this attitude that we name it the moral imperative; and
our mutinous desires also call to us through the fight : " Do
it, take it, away with your scruples ! " But the response of
our will is different. It is like the action of a man that
seizes a fellow-creature who is falling and cannot save him-
1 Prin. of Psy., vol. ii. p. 569.
TYPES OF WILL. . 315
self, but does not impotently command him to rise ; or, that
holding an animal which struggles to escape, does not bid it
begone, but, what is more to the purpose, sets it free.
The indicative and imperative moods may be ultimate
categories of thought ; but if we have been tempted to iden-
tify the imperative mood with volition, we must reluctantly
conclude that it is often present in the state of conflict pre-
ceding voluntary choice, and often absent in the decisive
moment which abolishes our doubt and conflict.
Yet where our object is to control the conduct of children,
servants and our subordinates generally, volition assumes the
attitude of an imperative, sometimes politely disguised as a
request, sometimes assuming the peremptory tone of a com-
mand.
Will is not then essentially an imperative, any more than
it is essentially defined in a categorical, a disjunctive or a
hypothetical judgment. It is indicative as well as impera-
tive. And the imperative, like the disjunctive and hypothe-
tical judgments, is ambiguous, and may or may not contain
will. Where it appears in the state of indecision pre-
ceding choice, it is the specific attitude which our rival
conations assume in face of the inward obstacle to their
satisfaction ; where it appears in our external volitions, it is
the specific attitude which these assume in the face of an
external obstacle to their realisation. In the one case, the
obstacle is a rival motive; in the other, it lies in the inertia and
conflicting desires and will of our fellow-men. If we see a
servant bringing us what we want, we do not order him to
bring it ; if a child is doing what he is permitted to do, we
do not order him to desist. Our order is given where with-
out it our wants would not be attended to or our will would
not be obeyed. But where people are angry, they often give
meaningless or inconsistent directions ; they command that
to be brought to them which they see is on the way, or
children to cease doing what they have permitted them to
do. The emotion of anger finds a vent in overcoming the
obstacle of a proper self-respect and dignity in subordinates.
We can now understand why it is that the imperative
does not appear in the volitions that control our own conduct.
Where our end can be obtained independently of the aid or
concurrence of our fellow-men, the imperative is absent,
because its presence would be meaningless. If our volition
has been preceded by a conflict of motives, that conflict has
now ceased, our course is decided, and there is nothing for
an imperative to accomplish. But it appears in this state of
indecision preceding choice, because volition is absent, and
316 ALEXANDER F. SHAND :
may be provoked by an imperative like the will of another
man. And how often these imperatives seem to us to have
an extrinsic source, and to be the echoes within of the will
of the gods or our fellow-men without. We do not at first
identify such inward voices with ourself. As when we
think, the opinions of other men occur to us as not our own
opinions, as not yet affirmed or denied by our judgment, so
before we will the commands of our parents and those
whom we venerate, and the codes of society or religion,
often occur to us, as not commands proceeding from ourself,
and not yet consented to or rejected by our will.
And so the imperative is always a stimulus to our will or
conation, or to the will or conation of other men. But is itself
ever a volition ? Or, in other words, as there are categorical,
disjunctive and hypothetical types of will, are there also im-
perative volitions? If there be, they seem only to occur
where the object of the imperative is to control the conduct
of another person and not our own.
But sometimes the imperative mood is only a short and
abrupt expression of desire. " Come and see me," may mean,
" I desire," not, "I command it". Only the form is imperative ;
the meaning is different. At other times the meaning is im-
perative. An undoubted command is given, and understood as
such both by the person addressing it and the person to whom
it is addressed. And we recognise this as volition. But often
where we give an order, as in our simple categorical volitions,
we are not conscious of any other desire, except the one
which we direct shall be satisfied. We are not think-
ing of the desires of the person we address, and whether
these are antagonistic to our own. From the habit of giving
orders to our subordinates, we give them without thinking
of their feelings, so long as the order belongs to the class
which we are accustomed to give and they to obey. In this
case the imperative is a simple volition. But at other times
we become clearly conscious of a conation in them which
our imperative is meant to restrain. If a child is doing
what he is not permitted to do, he is told to desist. Or if
we anticipate that he is going to do it, we remind him that
the action is forbidden. In such cases there seem to be two
ideas present the idea which we foresee the child is going
to do and the contrary idea of the conduct which we pre-
scribe. The one idea is expressive of a conation in ourselves ;
the other of a conation in the child. Can we ever choose
between two conations, one of which is in ourselves, the
other in the mind of another person ? We should answer
this question in the negative. Only so far as the conation
TYPES OF WILL. 317
of another person becomes ours through sympathy, or
through its harmony with our sentiments, does it become a
motive to the will and an alternative to the desire we feel.
But since the desire of another person often becomes such
a motive in one way or the other, the imperative may be the
result of a complex volition or choice. Thus you both desire
to do what is best for your child, and you desire also through
sympathy to yield to his desire. And where we choose
between these motives, there seems first to be present to
our minds the judgment that we are going to follow one of
these two desires, and only afterwards, as it were a means to
carrying this judgment into effect, does there issue from us
an imperative or order to the child. Thus we are compelled
to ask whether after all the imperative can be a volition, or
only the means by which a preformed volition accomplishes
its end.
If we assume it to be only a means, we shall find it
troublesome to point out in all cases the volition that pre-
cedes it. In the case we have just considered, we deliberate
between the child's desire and what, as responsible for him,
we think he should be allowed to do. There is then that
pause before the issue of our imperative in which we decide
and are conscious of deciding between these alternatives.
But the imperative often issues from us so suddenly that
there is no sufficient interval in which the conscious judgment
of how we are going to act can be formulated. A sudden
want or desire rises in the mind, and we call upon a servant
to fulfil it. The pull of the bell is an imperative, as much
as our express order ; and, as so frequently in involuntary
action, no doubt or question intervenes, still less a judgment
which answers the question. There is a single desire cul-
minating at once in an imperative; as in our simple cate-
gorical volitions, a single desire culminates in a categorical
judgment.
But in the complex type of the imperative, where a
voluntary choice ordinarily precedes its command and is
defined in a judgment, does the imperative lapse from a
volition and become something else? The volition may
precede the imperative, but is not annulled. It is changed,
but persists. It is first embodied in a judgment, afterwards
in an imperative. In the same way a hypothetical volition
often passes into a categorical. " If you are there I shall
make a point of seeing you." " But I shall be there."
' Then I certainly will see you." In this volitional syl-
logism, as it might be called, the hypothetical volition of
the major premiss is transformed into the categorical
318 ALEXANDER F. SHAND :
volition of the conclusion through the judgment of the
minor premiss.
We have seen will disengage itself from one form of judg-
ment after another, and in our present type, it seems to
throw aside every form of judgment and the definitions by
which we have bound it to the judgment and to assume the
distinctive form of an imperative.
But is the imperative a distinctive form, an "ultimate
category"? Is its attitude as unique as negative thought,
as the categorical, disjunctive and hypothetical judgments ?
Is its uniqueness, like theirs, not due to the combination of any
constituents which we can specify ? Does it belong to those
products of mental life which consist in new groupings and
complications of constituents present in other and previously
subsisting groups, or to those products which consist- in a
new differentiation of such constituents ? In the one case
it is analysable in respect of that which is distinctive of it ;
in the other it is not.
There is one explanation of the imperative which readily
suggests itself. When we say, "Do this," we may mean,
" If you refuse, you will be punished". Is the imperative in
reality a hypothetical judgment disguised in a unique gram-
matical form ? We often supplement it by such a judg-
ment where we anticipate that it will not act as an adequate
motive without. And we can explain the influence which it
exercises over us by the many painful consequences which,
in childhood and youth, have followed disobedience to our
superiors. But our question is one of analysis, not of
genesis. We have to ask what the imperative means to the
person who uses it, not how it has become a motive for the
person to whom it is addressed ; and where we anticipate no
disobedience we neither say nor think, " If you do not do this,
I will punish you," or "I shall be offended". This hypo-
thetical judgment is something additional to the command,
and which may or may not be added to it. And further,
such hypothetical propositions essentially express a condi-
tion and its consequence, not a command that the person
spoken to shall so act that the consequence shall not
become due. The command is indirectly conveyed to him
by the tone of your voice, the expression of your fea-
tures, and perhaps by his knowledge that you will be pained
by his disobedience and the necessity of punishing him.
But a vicious schoolmaster might enjoy the prospect of a
boy's disobedience that he might have the pleasure of flog-
ging him ; and his hypothetical proposition, though inter-
preted by the boy as an imperative, might contain no real
TYPES OF WILL. 319
imperative volition, but its essential meaning of a condi-
tion and its consequence, and an ardent hope that the
condition might become tact. In this case we can hardly
suppose there were any real imperative in the schoolmaster's
thought. And so a despot may say, addressing a rebellious
subject, " If you do not submit, I shall forfeit your estates ".
And being confident of success, he may neither will nor
desire his submission, because he covets his property.
Now the interesting point in these examples is that while
they are not mere judgments, but genuine hypothetical
volitions, they are not imperative volitions ; they therefore
demonstrate the distinctiveness of these two types of will.
In the schoolmaster's mind there is a resolution to punish
the boy in the event of his misconduct, and in the despot's,
in a similar event, to seize his subject's estates. Both hope
the event may occur in order to enforce its consequence.
Both simulate an imperative attitude ; but, through their
hope of the event, in neither is there an imperative volition
forbidding it.
We may next attempt to resolve the imperative into the
disjunctive judgment, "You will do this or take the con-
sequences ". Here, as in the previous case, we must make the
answer that this disjunctive judgment, though it sometimes
supplement an imperative, is not its essential meaning ;
and is often neither spoken nor thought of. And again, the
intention may be to inflict the punishment, and the alter-
native to it which is put forward may be chosen because we
are sure it will be rejected, and will therefore of a certainty
promote the end of our real volition.
We may make a more successful attempt than either of
the foregoing to resolve the imperative into the categorical
judgment, " You will do this ". And here, as in the case of the
imperative itself, the proposition is full of ambiguity. Like
the imperative mood it may mean no more than a desire or
entreaty, as where we emphasise the word " will " ; or again,
it may express a question. But where it means Will, it
seems to be the same volition as the imperative. Thus, I
may say to a man, " You will go to this place, and on arriving
there you will leave this letter, and you will bring back the
answer to it " ; and the same volition, with no substantial
alteration of its meaning, may be expressed in the impera-
tive, " Go to this place, leave this letter, and bring back the
answer to it". There is more emphasis in the imperative,
and the emphasis is laid on the volition, while in the pro-
position there is rather a clear and certain anticipation of
the future event, and the volition sinks into the background.
320 ALEXANDEB F. SHAND :
There is sometimes an overpowering assurance about "You
will do this ; " a cool, deliberate determination, so different
from the abrupt " Do this," where it springs impulsively,
suggests a threat and hides a suspicion of failure. But a
more striking difference remains to be pointed out. In " You
will do this " leave this letter and bring back the answer
there is always a clear anticipation of a future event, but
this anticipation like others may be mistaken. The man
may do something else or refuse. In other words, " You will
do this," is a judgment referring to a future event : " Do this,"
is a command referring to a future event. The judgment is
either true or false : the command is neither true nor false.
It is not shown to be false or mistaken, like the judgment,
when the event referred to is not accomplished ; nor does it
become true, like the judgment, when it is. The failure of
the judgment is error, a mistake in its conjecture ; the failure
of the imperative is a thwarted purpose.
But we are not yet at the bottom of the difficulty. The
judgment, " You will do this," may, as we have seen, be more
than a judgment ; it may also contain a volition : in the
same way as the imperative may also imply an anticipation
or judgment. In that case the judgment, " You will do this,"
means, " I command you to do it, therefore you will do it ".
The anticipation or judgment of the future event is the con-
sequence of the implied command or imperative. And
similarly, when we give a command and are also conscious
of anticipating its accomplishment, this judgment only
arises because we are conscious that the command has
been given.
This implication of a command in the judgment, " You will
do this," comes out more clearly if we substitute the word
' shall ' for ' will '. There can then be no mistake about
the presence of volition. But it carries also the meaning
that this imperative has been already partially thwarted or
that at least there are clear signs of disobedience, as when a
nurse having repeatedly used the imperative, " Sit still," to a
restless child without the required result, clenches it in the
judgment, "You shall sit still," and thumps it down on the
seat. "You shall do it," means, "I will make you do it,
and having ordered you to, will use physical force to compel
obedience ".
We have seen that in these alternative phrases which we
may use instead of the imperative mood, though not without
a certain alteration of our meaning, the categorical judg-
ment, which they prominently express, still carries with it
more or less clearly the imperative as its basis ; and that by
TYPES OF WILL. 321
the discovery of these alternative phrases, so far from
having resolved the imperative into a categorical judgment,
it persists as the indispensable basis of that judgment.
From our failure to analyse the imperative as will, we
infer that, like negation and the types of judgment, like the
distinction between pleasure and pain, and the distinctive
varieties of sensation, it is a differentiation of thought, or
more correctly of thought and will, of which we may per-
haps furnish a genetic, but never an analytic explanation.
VII. DESIRE AND WILL.
In all volitions, according to the common opinion of psy-
chologists, we either desire their immediate result or some
remoter consequence. But our situation may be so desperate
that, instead of a choice between desires, we have only a
choice between aversions. A woman may have to choose
between death and dishonour. A man suffering from an
incurable disease may prefer the alternative of suicide ; and
a condemned man has sometimes been permitted to select
the manner of his death. He may have an aversion to
death in every form ; and if we take aversion to mean desire
to escape from an object, he has several such desires. He
desires to escape from death altogether, and each death, as he
imagines it, he shrinks from. But a power that heeds not
his desires holds him fast. Powerless and despairing, he
cannot will to escape from it. There is no good that he can
choose ; he can only avoid the greater evil. Some death
appears to him less horrible than others. His aversion to
it is less strong, and he perforce selects it.
In this type, there is a volition present and even a rational
choice ; but can we find any desire for the death selected ?
We may say that the motive which determines the man's
choice is desire to escape the greater evil. He sees a course
that offers him escape. He therefore desires to follow that
course. But this argument is based on a false simplification
of his state of mind. Desire may indeed be present in the
state anteceding his volition ; but at the moment of will it
is transformed into aversion. He desires to escape the
greater evil : he desires also to escape the less ; and the course
which he represents as an escape from the greater is that
which leads directly to the less. Were it not for the less,
he would desire to follow this course ; but the presence of
this evil at the end of it transforms desire into aversion.
Were it not for the greater evil at the opposite end, he would
desire to retrace his steps ; but the presence of this greater
21
322 ALEXANDER F. SHAND :
evil again transforms desire into aversion. There he stands
between these opposite goals, hemmed in in a course that
inevitably leads from one to the other, with a simultaneous
aversion for both ; and shrinking to the last he is pushed
forward to the one goal by the greater horror behind him.
While in the common types of volition there is desire to do
what we will to do, either for itself or some ulterior con-
sequence, here there is desire not to do what we will to do,
and desire that death, the ultimate consequence of our
action, may not be realised. It is the extreme opposite of
the type which psychologists 1 have described as universal,
and admitting of no exceptions. And we can conceive of a
third that occupies an intermediate position between these
extremes. Volition may stand in three typical relations to
desire : (1) we may will to do what we desire to do ; (2) we
may will to do what we desire to escape from doing ; (3) we
may will to do what we have no desire of doing. In other
words, we may feel either desire or aversion for what we are
going to do, or, conceivably, neither one nor the other.
There is another type familiar to those who have an
experience of self-sacrifice, in which the sacrifice of one of
ourselves is undertaken, not in a mood of warm and exalted
emotion, but in the calm, austere spirit of the northern
Teutonic races, where duty, for duty's sake, ordains the
sacrifice. It is "a dreary resignation," "a desolate and
acrid sort of act, an excursion into a lonesome moral
wilderness". 2 Do you think that at the moment at which
you were to resolve to go out into this "wilderness," you
would feel any desire to be there ? Do you think that in the
heart-rending struggle which precedes, you would be led to
such a self-sacrifice by the pleasant impulse of desire ? Of
course, we know that a soul so high-strung loves duty, and
desires to follow it. But where is the love, and where the
desire, at the moment of a great surrender ? The end is still
desirable, but does desire occur as a psychical fact? The
end is desirable ; it is an end we ought to desire ; it has moral
value ; we do desire it at other times ; nay, more, were only
the burden of this sacrifice lifted, we should desire it anew.
But as when a youth is in love, his favourite occupations and
the books in which he took delight, delight him no more, and
his intellectual ambition is under an eclipse, because all the
desire of his being is absorbed into the system of this over-
1 Mr. Bradley is an exception : see his " Pleasure, Pain, Desire and
Volition," MIND, xiii.
2 William James, Prin. of Psy., vol. ii., p. 634.
TYPES OF WILL. 323
mastering passion ; so when, at the call of duty, we sacrifice
what we most love, the passionate desire of love effaces the
pale intellectual desire of duty.
In this type, desire is no longer present as a motive to
the will. There is desire for the end that we sacrifice, not
for the end we accept. And we can quite well explain the
motive which influences this choice without supposing it to
be formed of an actual present desire. The austere love of
duty, the calm but often steady desires that subserve it,
explain the formation of a habit of acting in harmony with
its dictates ; and this habit, where a sufficient interval occurs
before action, is ordinarily reinforced by desire. Only when
an intense desire competes with it, is it effaced for the time.
Then the " feeling-tone " of the sentiment of duty is effaced,
and the mental system which it qualifies becomes a dry
mental fact. But it does not cease to be a motive ; its
conation is diminished, but not destroyed. It still strives to
exclude those ideas of action that are incompatible with it ;
it thwarts the contrary desire. The habit of our past lives
stands by us. It maintains these ideas within the focus of
attention, so that passion cannot exclude them, or blind us
to their true character. And they persist as an alternative
motive to the will, unloved, undesired at the moment though
they be. And the loss of their affective side, that side which
affects us with pleasure and desire, is not anything exceptional.
It seems to be a general psychological truth that only opposite
desires nearly balanced in point of intensity can both be felt
together. When one is calm and intellectual, and the other
has reached the intensity of passion, the first disappears.
But when the state of indecision is prolonged, amid the
fluctuations of intensity of the contrary desire, the first may
find an opportunity, and be reinstated. But at the moment
we make those calm but steadfast resolves, when at the same
moment that we see all the allurements of passion we reject
them, then we feel only the desire that we will not to follow
and not the desire to follow that we will. And were this
not the case, did we in a moment see the beauty of self-
sacrifice, and on the impulse achieve it, then we should not
feel that terrible effort in our resolution. It would form
easily, and, with the subsidence of emotion, as easily, perhaps,
be forgotten or repented of.
This effort that we feel in forming a resolution must be
carefully distinguished from the effort felt in carrying it into
effect. Great undertakings are hard to achieve ; but we will
to achieve them in youth with facility. There may be little
effort felt in going out into the cold, but the resolve may
324 ALEXANDEK F. SHAND :
cost us much. It is the first and antecedent, not the
subsequent effort, that is often witness to the fact that our
resolution is contrary to our desire. And yet not always ;
for where two contrary desires persist, and prolong indecision,
we feel often a considerable effort in making any choice
between them.
There are, then, three types due to the relation of will to
desire : the common type in which desire is the motive se-
lected ; the type in which desire is effaced from the motive ;
the type in which desire is replaced by aversion. The
second type is exemplified more frequently than we think.
The little words "ought " and " must," with their impalpable
meanings, have come to acquire considerable force with
civilised men. When the desire opposed to them is not too
strong, they are often sufficient of themselves to overcome
it. We do little disagreeable things because, as we say, we
must. We go to see people that we dislike, we write letters
that we hate, because we have to. It is an artificial explan-
ation, sought after in the interests of a theory, to suppose
that we always think of the consequences of these disagreeable
actions, and that these awaken an actual desire to do them.
The idea that we have to do them moves us. We are going to
delay no longer, and this idea culminating in the prospective
judgment of our action suffices. When we hesitate we
are apt to feel aversion, and the third type is exemplified.
When we act quickly, through a settled habit, there is no
interval sufficient for desire or aversion ; we have simply the
idea that we must, followed sometimes by the judgment that
we will.
There are two arguments that may still be advanced in
support of the usual theory. We may urge that desire is
not altogether absent from these cases, only that it is so
faint as to pass undetected. But if we cannot sometimes
detect it, we cannot verify the theory that it is essential.
The theory or hypothesis, while it interprets the common
types, finds others which are, to say the least, ambiguous,
and rather lend support to an opposite hypothesis. But
what shall we say where it is not merely a question of desire
being extinguished, concerning which we can always allege
that it still flickers, but where it is a question of desire being
replaced by the contrary fact of aversion instead of desire
to do the action, desire to escape doing it? And this is
sometimes sufficiently intense to be unmistakable. Shall
we urge that in the very core of this aversion there is a
hidden and contrary desire that the man who has chosen
the death for which he feels the least aversion, also secretly
TYPES OF WILL. 325
and unknown to himself in some degree desires this death ?
Who with an open mind would be convinced by that argu-
ment ? And we may ask further : Is a desire that is unfelt
and unrecognised any longer a desire? For when we desire,
we know that we desire ; as when we will, we know that we
will. Sometimes, indeed, we try to blind ourselves to the
fact of desire ; but the effort shows that we have first recog-
nised it. An unfelt desire is a blind conation a tendency
only interpretable by its result. But the cases we have
considered are not blind conations ; we foresee their results,
only we feel no desire for them. In our first example, choice
lay between two actions which were neither desired nor for
most men desirable, their common end, death, being likewise
neither desired nor in most men's opinion desirable. In our
second example, choice lay between two actions one of which
was desired and the other recognised as desirable, but for
which there was no actual desire. In the one case we
cannot choose anything that we desire : in the other what
is desirable but not desired.
The study of the types of will is the indispensable basis of
a scientific theory of its essential character. Because such a
preliminary study has never been made, or because we have
contented ourselves with the portrayal of a few subordinate
types, our theories of volition have one after another appeared
one-sided and inadequate. A theory formed in unconscious-
ness of any distinctive type of will, or without a clear insight
into its peculiarities, is liable to be overthrown by any one
to whom this type is familiar in his own experience. And
the more closely the typical forms of will are studied, the
more we shall appreciate the difficulty of embracing them in
any one supreme type. We have already felt something of
this difficulty, as well in pursuing the character of simple
as of complex volitions. The general theory of will we can
only put forward as a scientific hypothesis for interpreting
its distinctive types : and when a new type is brought for-
ward that we have not anticipated we may have to modify
our hypothesis. Better evidence than this we cannot pretend
to, and the profoundest introspection will not show us the
universal character of will.
II. ON THE RELATIONS OF NUMBER AND
QUANTITY. 1
BY B. EUSSELL.
I WISH, in this paper, to discuss one of the most fundamental
questions of mathematical philosophy. On the view we take of
this relation must depend our interpretation of the Infinitesimal
Calculus and all its consequences in a word, of all higher
mathematics. The very idea of the continuum an idea
which, in philosophy as in mathematics, has become gradu-
ally more and more prominent, and has, of late especially,
ousted the atomic views which were shared by Hume and
Kant must stand or fall, I think, with the relative justifica-
tion of quantity in mathematics as against number. It will
not be necessary, however, to deal with mathematical con-
siderations here ; it will be sufficient to consider number and
quantity in their purely logical aspects. I shall use quantity,
always, as equivalent to continuous quantity, and I shall en-
deavour, in the course of the paper, to make clear the mean-
ing of the word continuous.
My argument will be as follows : First, I shall discuss
number, and show that its extensions beyond the positive
integers result from a gradual absorption of the properties
of the unit, and give a gradually diminishing information as
to the whole. Then I shall discuss the application of
number to continua, and shall endeavour to show that number
per se gives no information as to quantity, but only compari-
son with an already quantitative unit. It will appear, there-
fore, that quantity must be sought in an analysis of the unit.
Assuming quantity to be an intrinsic property of quantities,
I shall discuss two hypotheses. The first regards quantity
as an irreducible category, the second regards it as an im-
mediate sense-datum. On the first hypothesis, we shall see
that extensive quantities are rendered contradictory by their
divisibility, and must be taken as really indivisible, and so
1 Read before the Aristotelian Society.
ON THE EELATIONS OF NUMBER AND QUANTITY. 327
intensive. But intensive quantity too, it will appear, must,
if it be an intrinsic property of intensive quantities, be also
a mere relation between them. The hypothesis that quantity
is a category giving an intrinsic property will therefore have
to be rejected. The hypothesis that quantity is a datum in
sense will also be found to lead to contradictions. We shall
be forced, therefore, to reject the view that quantity is an
intrinsic property of quantities. We shall regard it, instead,
as a category of comparison ; there is no common property,
we shall say, among things that can be treated quantitatively,
except what is involved in the extraneous property that there
are other qualitatively similar things with which they can
be quantitatively compared. This will turn quantity into
measure, in the broadest sense, and with this, I think, our
previous difficulties will cease. But at the same time, every
connexion with number will cease quantity or measure, we
shall say, is a wholly independent conception of comparison.
But a discussion of the kind of comparison involved in
measure will bring back our previous difficulties in a new
form ; we shall find that the terms compared, though we no
longer regard them as quantitative, are infected with contra-
dictions similar to those which, in the first part of the paper,
will have belonged to quantity itself. I shall conclude that
quantity is only applicable to classes of actual and possible
immediate data, and not to any fully understood material.
In the ordinary procedure of mathematics, quantity ap-
pears as a limit in the extension of number. Let us
therefore examine, to begin with, how far this view of
quantity is tenable.
Number, throughout the following discussion, will be used
only of discreta ; it will be taken as always the result, not
of comparison as to the more or less, but of acts of synthesis
(or analysis) of things whose qualitative or quantitative
differences are disregarded. Pure number will denote the
merely formal result of acts of synthesis, so far as any
result can be known in total abstraction from the matter
synthesised and from the specific qualities of the objects of
the synthesis. Since a unit must be defined by some quality,
pure number will thus have no reference to a unit, or rather
its unit is the abstract object of any act of attention, of
whatever kind this may be. Such an operation can only
give rise to the natural numbers, the series of positive in-
tegers. Fractions, negative numbers and imaginary numbers,
I shall speak of as qualified numbers, for here we have
always some more explicit reference to the specific qualities
of the unit. Such numbers, unlike the positive integers,
328 B. EUSSELL :
absorb, into an apparently numerical expression, some pro-
perties which the unit does not share with all thinkable
contents. In order that a fraction with any given denom-
inator may be applicable to a collection of objects, these
objects must be capable of division into parts equal in num-
ber to the denominator. If they are not so divisible, the
fraction cannot be applied to these objects. For example,
a fractional number of pounds sterling has a meaning if the
denominator is a factor of 960, which is the number of
farthings in a pound. If the denominator is not a factor
of 960, the fraction neglecting foreign currencies cannot
be taken with arithmetical strictness, but only to the nearest
farthing. Thus a fraction whose denominator is n only has
meaning when applied to a unit which is itself divisible
into n smaller units. 1 From this we derive the important
result, that the graduated infinite series of fractions, called
the number continuum, has meaning only when applied to
a matter divisible ad lib. No fraction has meaning, for ex-
ample, when applied to human beings. The same is true
of negative numbers. The minus sign does not apply to the
number, but to the nature of the unit, which is regarded as the
opposite of some unit previously fixed, i.e., as neutralising
the previous unit when synthesised with it. Thus a debt
and an asset neutralise one another : hence a debt may be
represented as a negative asset, and vice versa. But a
negative number only has meaning in relation to a matter
which is capable of having an opposite, and thus implies
always a certain property of the unit. Imaginary numbers
may be similarly explained. Like the symbol of negative
numbers, the symbol of imaginary numbers, \l - 1, is not to
be regarded as itself a number, nor yet a quantity, but
simply as expressing a qualitative relation of our new unit
to some unit previously fixed. This relation is such that,
when A is so related to B, and B to C, then A is the
opposite of C in the sense explained in dealing with negative
numbers. In this case, B is said to be \/ - 1 x A. Thus if
our original unit be a foot towards the East, -J - 1 multi-
plied by our original unit will give a foot towards the North,
which is a new and qualitatively different unit. Hence the
so-called imaginary numbers are capable of application, but
they agree with fractions and negative numbers in that they
are not applicable, like pure number, to any thinkable con-
1 Cf. Ehrenfels, Zur Philosophic der Mathematik ; Vierteljahrsschrift fiir wiss.
Phil., xv., pp. 308-9.
ON THE RELATIONS OF NUMBER AND QUANTITY. 329
tent, but only to objects having a certain property. This
property is more complex than that required for negative
numbers and fractions, but equally possible. 1 Thus through-
out the extensions of number, the truly numerical element
is nothing but the positive integers everything else arises
from abandoning that complete indifference to the pro-
perties of the unit in which pure number consists. So far,
however, the properties implied remain perfectly abstract,
and our object, being still posited exclusively by thought, is
still subject to the laws of thought alone.
Throughout this abstract development of number, the
unit has become gradually more important and explicit.
When it is quite explicit, we get a third kind of number,
which, outside our arithmetic books, is alone of impor-
tance. This third kind I shall call applied number. In
this, there is a reference to a definite unit, and the ap-
plied number is always to be regarded as the product of
the corresponding pure number with the unit in question.
Here we find the justification, in the properties of particular
units, for the extension of numbers beyond the positive
integers. The unit is some concept, and the number is
formed by instances of the concept. Numeration can, of
course, be applied to concrete things only by abstraction, for
no concrete thing is merely an instance of a concept no man
in a set of statistics, for example, is a mere man. But for
us here, the important point is that the result, even in its
abstraction, can only pretend to accuracy where nature gives
a unit of some sort ; where our concept, in other words,
finds its extension in a ready-made series. But in most
of the applications of number, this is not the case. The
matter to which number is to be applied, wherever this
consists of sense-data as opposed to conceptions, contains
no ready-made divisions, but has to be divided artificially
in order to manufacture a unit. Any portion of such a
matter is called a quantity. The result of applying number
to this quantity I call magnitude, and the operation of apply-
ing number I call numerical measurement ; 2 the matter itself
is a continuum.
But to what extent does number give us information in
1 It is important to observe that irrational numbers do not appear in
this development. They arise only in connexion with quantity, and can-
not be validly treated by Arithmetic, since their relation to the unit
cannot be expressed conceptually.
2 1 shall generally use measure to denote only comparison as to the
more or less.
330 B. KUSSELL :
such a case '? For the ideal application of number, we
require concepts embodied in a series of really diverse in-
stances. Everything relevant must be supposed known
about the instances before numeration begins, for this gives
no fresh information as to any of them. The only connexion
between them implied in numeration is the purely formal
connexion involved in their being thought of simultaneously,
and there is therefore only a purely formal reaction of the
numerical whole on the instances which constitute it. But
though no information is derived, by counting, as to the
instances, complete information is derived as to the whole,
since the numerical whole is nothing but the mere aggregate
of the instances. In order, however, that information as
to the whole may result from numeration, the instances
must be definite and distinct. The ideal, for number, would
be Leibnitzian independent monads. As soon as our unit
ceases to be definite, and ceases to be known independently
of all numerical considerations, counting ceases to give
definite information. To be told that a town consists of
10,000 souls is real information, for a soul is a natural unit,
concerning which most of us profess considerable knowledge ;
but to be told that a foot consists of twelve inches is no in-
formation, for a man might study space for ever without
discovering the inch as a natural unit.
Number, in short, demands a unit not itself numerical, a
unit to whose nature number is wholly external. We require
a subject-matter with real divisions. Where there are several
ways of making these divisions, as e.g. into pounds and
shillings, the number to be applied begins to be arbitrary,
and to give only incomplete information as to the whole.
Where the divisions are wholly fictitious, as with continua,
the number is wholly arbitrary, and the information it gives
is nil. Number is now only available for measurement, i.e.,
for comparison of one quantity with another. The unit of
measurement, the inch or the foot, is already a quantity.
Comparison with another quantity, therefore, which is all
that number can effect, involves, if taken as exhausting the
nature of quantitj 7 , an obvious vicious circle. Quantity
must be investigated so it would seem by analysis of the
unit itself ; it must be an intrinsic property of our arbitrary
unit, and not a particular or extreme case of number. From
this conclusion, if quantity is to have any meaning, there
would seem to be no escape.
But if we adopt this view, new obstacles, no less formid-
able than those which led us to declare quantity independent
of number, bar our further progress. Quantity, we have
ON THE RELATIONS OF NUMBER AND QUANTITY. 331
said, is an intrinsic property of our arbitrary unit. If so we
ought to be able to say something, as regards the quantity
of our unit, which shall not consist merely in comparison
with another quantity. But this, so far as I can see, we
are unable to do. As soon as we begin to make judgments
about quantity, they are always judgments of comparison
the vaguest possible judgments of quantity are : " This is
greater (or smaller) than that ". We seem thus to be landed
in an antinomy. Though every judgment of quantity is
necessarily a comparison, the essence of quantity must not
lie in comparison, but in the terms compared. In other
words, quantities have an intrinsic nature, but this consists
wholly in difference from something else.
Our difficulty may be illustrated by the ordinary definition
of quantity, as that which can be increased or diminished.
Since increase and diminution are themselves quantitative,
this definition involves a vicious circle. But it suggests, as
Hegel points out, an important characteristic of quantity.
Quantity may be altered without producing any other change
in the thing whose quantity is altered. This will give us
some guidance as to the sort of things which can be regarded
as quantitative. It explains why quantity appears as a
purely extrinsic determination. For it places the whole
essence of a quantity in being different from other quanti-
ties : by a quantitative change, a thing is changed in nothing
except quantity, and quantity cannot, therefore, be defined
by reference to the nature of the quantitative thing, since
this nature, apart from quantity, is unaffected by a quantita-
tive change. In this extrinsic reference, quantity is on a par
with space. The whole essence of one part of space is to be
external to another part, just as the whole essence of one
quantity is to differ from some other quantity. This ex-
plains why space is quantity par excellence, and why all
other quantities have to be reduced to spatial equivalents
before they can be quantitatively treated. But just as the
extrinsic reference of space leads to an antinomy which
shows it to be mere relativity, so the extrinsic reference of
quantity leads to an antinomy which forces us, it would
seem, to abandon the position that quantity is an intrinsic
property of quantitative things.
But if we abandon this position, what are we to say of
the terms of quantitative comparison ? We can no longer
say, apparently, that quantitative comparison compares
quantities, or that measurement is measurement of quanti-
ties. Two ways of escape suggest themselves, by which we
can endeavour to rescue the intrinsic nature of quantity.
332 B. RUSSELL :
We may say, with M. Couturat, 1 that quantity is a wholly
independent category, of which, just because it is a category,
no account can be given in terms of other categories. Or
we may say that quantity is an immediate datum in sense,
which, like colours and sounds, can be indicated but not
described. I shall discuss these two views successively.
Taking the view that quantity is an independent category,
we shall say : Quantity is distinct from and independent
of quality ; its changes do not produce changes of quality,
and it must be taken as immediately apprehended, without
reduction to other terms. When we are given a foot-rule,
we apprehend its quantity (length) along with it. All we
can say of this quantity, beyond mere apprehension, con-
sists, it is true, of comparison with other quantities. But
this no longer constitutes an antinomy, since the quantity,
ex hypothesi, is an irreducible property of our foot-rule.
Let us seek, on this basis, for a characterisation of
quantity. This will have to proceed entirely from the
nature of quantitative comparison, since we have admitted
that, apart from comparison, there is nothing to be said
about quantity except that it is quantitative.
We have, at the outset, a fundamental division of quanti-
ties into two kinds, extensive and intensive, according as a
change of quantity is, or is not, a quantity of the same kind
as the quantity changed. A change of length is itself a
length, but a change of temperature or illumination is not
itself hot or bright. Of these two kinds, extensive quantity
is the more important, and I shall consider it first.
A quantity is extensive when a change in it is a quantity
of the same kind. From this definition we can, I think,
construct all the ordinary properties of extensive quantity.
In the first place, we have addition (and subtraction). The
original quantity, together with its change, is equal to the
final quantity. When two quantities together are thus equal
to a third, each of the two is said to be a part of the third.
Thus an extensive quantity is always susceptible of division
into extensive quantities, which are therefore in turn so
divisible. This gives infinite divisibility. Again, since
quantities may be increased as well as diminished, any
extensive quantity may be regarded as part of a larger
extensive quantity, and so on ad infinitum. This gives
infinite quantity, as the negation of a limit to the growth
of quantity. Again, by definition, all quantities of a kind
are qualitatively alike ; therefore our collection of quantities
1 De Vlnfini Mathematique, Paris, Alcan, 1896, passim.
ON THE RELATIONS OF NUMBER AND QUANTITY. 333
is homogeneous. Since all extensive quantities may be re-
garded as parts of larger extensive quantities, this means
that the whole collection may be regarded as parts of an
infinite whole out of which they are divided. It is to be
observed that all these properties belong to space and time.
I have now to prove that extensive quantity contains a
contradiction which is precisely the same as that contained
in space and time, the contradiction, namely, of being at
once a relation or adjective and more than a mere relation
or adjective.
A change of extensive quantity, we said, is itself an ex-
tensive quantity. But a change is an adjective of the thing
changed, which must be supposed to preserve its identity
throughout the change. Hence, either the original quantity
was not a mere adjective, but to some extent a thing, capable
of varying determinations without loss of identity ; to this
alternative there are tw opbjections first, the change of ex-
tensive quantity is a mere adjective of the original quantity,
with which it is thus not homogeneous, and second, the
original quantity, though merely a quantity, is capable of
preserving its identity while becoming merely another
quantity, which is absurd. Or the original and subse-
quent quantities, and the change of quantity, are all
adjectives of something distinct from them ; but in this
case, it becomes absurd to speak of dividing quantities
parts of an adjective are meaningless. Thus extensive
quantity is an adjective, because it is homogeneous with a
change, which is necessarily adjectival ; but it is not a mere
adjective, because it can be divided and has parts. Precisely
the same antinomy may be derived, as is more commonly
done, from infinite divisibility. For since any extensive
quantity is divisible, it is possessed of some thiughood ;
since it has parts, it is a complex thing ; now any complex
thing must be composed of simple things ; but this composi-
tion out of simple things is precisely what infinite divisibility
denies.
An extensive quantity must, therefore, it would seem, be
a hypostatised adjective or relation. When we cease to
hypostatise it, it becomes intensive its divisibility ceases,
and a change of quantity is no longer homogeneous with the
quantity changed. This brings us to the consideration of
the second kind of quantity, the intensive.
At this point, it will be well to consider briefly the funda-
mental similarity and difference between the ideas of number
and quantity. Both depend, to begin with, upon the appli-
cation of the same conception to different contents. In
334 B. EUSSELL :
number, the conception may be any we please, and the con-
tents to which it is applied are regarded as only numerically,
not conceptually, different. They are collected into a whole
of precisely similar contents, and comparison plays only the
preliminary part of showing the same conception to be
applicable to all the contents. In quantity, the common
conception must, as we have just seen, be some quality,
adjective, or relation things as such are not susceptible of
quantitative treatment. Moreover, while number depends
upon the conceptual identity of the contents numbered,
quantity depends essentially upon their differences. A col-
lection of quantities of the same kind, while they must be
identical in quality, must also be susceptible of differences
of quantity, and it is precisely these differences which are
relevant. But with intensive quantities, which we are at
present considering, these differences of quantity are not
themselves quantities. The difference between two inten-
sive quantities, in fact, differs from each as much as the
difference between two horses differs from a horse. With
this, it will be seen, we have lost the last possibility of
numerical treatment : extensive quantities could be divided
into parts, which could be counted, but intensive quantities
cannot be numerically measured in any way. What, then,
can we say about such quantities, and how are they to be
treated ? l
Since intensive quantities are not divisible or numerically
measurable, the quantitative changes in qualities which
have intensive quantity cannot be submitted to any objec-
tive test, but must be judged by immediate comparison of
sensations. Where changes of sensation are found em-
pirically to be correlated with changes of some extensive
quantity, we may agree conventionally, as we do with the
thermometer, to take the magnitude of this correlated ex-
tensive quantity as measuring the magnitude of our inten-
sive quantity. But such an agreement can never be more
than a convention, and the apparent objectivity which
results is fictitious and merely convenient. All that we
really have to go upon is the immediate apprehension of a
change, as revealed by subjective comparison. This ex-
plains why intensive quantity, if it is a category at all, is
mainly a psychological category.
To fix our ideas, let us, since intensive quantity appears
to be really a matter for Psychology, take pleasure as the
1 On the subject of intensive quantity, compare Sigwart's Logic, vol. ii.,
70.
ON THE RELATIONS OF NUMBER AND QUANTITY. 335
type for our discussion. Pleasure is unrelated with any
extensive quantity unless it were the coinage it is wholly
subjective, and it is commonly regarded as a quantity. It
has, therefore, every characteristic required for a type of
intensive quantity.
A measure of pleasures, as Hedonists have to acknowledge,
is unattainable. A sum of pleasures, as their opponents have
urged, is not itself a pleasure. Similarly a difference of
pleasures is not a pleasure, and a "balance of pleasures over
pains " is unmeaning. All these are properties of intensive
quantities generally, and reveal the fundamental impossi-
bility of a Calculus of intensive quantities. For a strict
Hedonist, the problem of weighing two small pleasures
against one big one ought to be meaningless, since an
aggregate of two pleasures does not form a single quantity
of pleasure.
But, further, if we take quantity as a category, applicable
to single quantities, there is, if I am not mistaken, a con-
tradiction in the idea of intensive quantity. Intensive
quantity, while it must be regarded as belonging, in different
measures, to the separate terms of a quantitative comparison,
must also be a mere relation between those terms, and thus
in its essence ratio, or, in the looser sense, measure. The
measurement of intensive quantities is only possible as to the
more or less, and is effected, not by any objective or scientific
test, but by immediate subjective comparison. The kind of
comparison involved can only be indicated, not described,
and the possibility of exhausting the differences of two
quantities by this kind of comparison is what constitutes
them quantities of the same kind. Now two intensive
quantities of the same kind, in all the conceptual pro-
perties which can be assigned to either alone, are completely
identical ; the difference of quantity, therefore, is a difference
in a property which appears not to exist before comparison.
To return to our former example : suppose we have two
pleasures which, so far as they are quantitative, are both
abstract or mere pleasure. Then qud mere pleasure, the
two are conceptually identical ; the quantity of either is not
a thing describable per se, but is simply and solely that which
makes one pleasure greater than the other. This would
seem to reduce intensive quantity to a relation between two
terms, and yet, in asserting that one term is greater than
another, we definitely assert so we agreed at the beginning
of this discussion that each separately has a quantity.
It is impossible, therefore, if quantity be an intrinsic pro-
perty of quantitative things, to content ourselves with the
336 B. RUSSELL:
view that quantity is an independent category. Both in ex-
tensive and in intensive quantity, this view leads to hopeless
contradictious. It remains to adopt the other view, that
quantity is an immediate sense-datum, irreducible, like
colour or sound, to conceptual terms. To this view too, I
fear, we shall find fatal objections.
What, to begin with, does quantity mean on our present
hypothesis ? We have a series of distinguishable psychical
states, all having a certain aspect which we call by a certain
name. But among the instances of this aspect, comparison
discovers differences differences which, though they exist
between the instances of one conception, cannot be used,
like the differences between species of the same genus, for
the formation of fresh and more specialised conceptions.
We are brought back, in fact, to immediate sensible appre-
hension : just as the difference between red and green
remains for ever indescribable in conceptual terms, so the
difference between two quantities of the same kind seems
irreducible and ultimate. We seem at last to have reached
quantity pure and simple, which was not attainable as the
limit of arithmetical development, nor yet as an intrinsic
conceptual property of quantitative things. Nothing can be
said of quantity, in our present sense, except that we have
series of sensations, feelings and emotions, which, while
they are so similar that we apply the same name to all, can
yet, by means of this one irreducible aspect of intensity, be
arranged in a graduated scale of greater and less. But with
the definite, measurable, objective quantities of mathematics,
this purely psychical, non-measurable, indivisible intensity
has nothing whatever to do. For mathematics, therefore,
such a result is utterly barren.
But there are other reasons for not resting content with
this result. M. Poincare, in a very able article on the
mathematical continuum, 1 has satisfactorily proved, I think,
that quantity must be conceptual. Quantities may un-
doubtedly be given in sense, but not quantity. The reason
is this. If quantity be sensational, two quantities which
give indistinguishable sensations must be equal. Now the
smallest perceptible differences of sensation are finite, so
that no ground can exist, if quantity be sensational, for the
creation of the continuum. Nevertheless there is ground
for the continuum. Suppose we have three sensations
1 Revue de M&. et de Morale, January, 1893. I take this opportunity
of calling attention to the splendid work which this review, and the
school it represents, have done on our present question and on the
kindred question of Zeno's arguments against motion.
ON THE EELATIONS OF NUMBEE AND QUANTITY. 337
A, B, C, of which A is indistinguishable from B, and B from
C, but not A from C. Then on a purely sensational basis
we have necessarily
A = B, B = C, A^C.
To avoid this contradiction, we have to assume that B is
not equal to A and C, and with this assumption w r e have
abandoned the purely sensational nature of quantity. Im-
mediate comparison remains the ultimate arbiter as to
differences of quantity, but it may force thought to assume
differences where it cannot discover them itself. The idea
of continuous quantity, of the ordered series proceeding by
infinitesimal gradations, is thus a product of thought.
Quantities may be given in sense, but they become quantity
only by an act of thought.
Quantity, then, is conceptual, but is not an intrinsic
property of quantitative things. What, under these cir-
cumstances, must quantity be ?
There remains one possible view, and this I think is the
truest. We held that quantity must be intrinsic, because
we supposed it to be a common property of quantities. Just
as mass is a common property of masses, discoverable by
abstraction from their individual peculiarities, so, we held,
quantity must be a common property of quantities. This
seemed obvious, but I believe it was the source of all our
difficulties. Quantity is not a common property of quanti-
tative things, any more than similarity is a common property
of similar things. Quantity is a conception of relation, of
comparison ; it expresses the possibility of a certain kind
of comparison with other things. Whether this comparison
is possible or not, depends, primarily at any rate, not on the
nature of the quantitative thing, but on the possible ex-
istence of other things sufficiently similar for quantitative
comparison. With this, our previous difficulties cease. A
quantity is any content whatever, so soon as this content
is capable of a certain kind of comparison with other con-
tents. 1 In a quantity, taken in isolation, we cannot dis-
cover, therefore, any of the properties of quantity. A
quantity is really as improper an expression, for things
which can be quantitatively compared, as " a likeness " for a
photograph. To search for the nature of quantity in
malysis of particular quantities, therefore, is as absurd as to
search for the nature of likeness in a study of photography.
1 Cf. Bosanquet's Logic, vol. i., p. 124.
22
338 B. RUSSELL :
By this solution, quantity becomes essentially measure
using this word to mean any sort of quantitative comparison.
We may now sum up the preceding argument, and give it
a positive form. Seeing that number, as used in measure-
ment, could not exhaust the nature of quantities, we inferred
that this nature was to be found by analysis of the unit.
But when we analysed the unit, we found that any attempt
to give it quantitative attributes led to a contradiction. We
now see that this must be so, for the unit, taken in isolation,
is not quantitative at all. What is quantitative is only the
relation of the unit to a content which differs from it in a
certain manner, and only the possibility of such a relation,
which is external to the unit, leads us to speak of the unit
as a quantity. The truth of quantity, therefore to use a
Hegelian phrase is measure. We no longer have the
contradiction that quantity both is, and is not, a mere rela-
tion, for our refusal to regard it as a mere relation was based
wholly on the view that it must be an intrinsic property of
quantities. We can now see the reason why extensive
quantities are more amenable to measurement than intensive
quantities. For the definition of extensive quantities is, that
a change is homogeneous with the quantity changed. Now
extensive quantities i.e. spaces and times are themselves
relations, and may therefore be homogeneous with that re-
lation of difference in which, as we now see, quantity really
consists. 1 The terms, being already relations, may be homo-
geneous with their difference, which is itself a relatioa.
There is also, I think, another reason why the quantitative
treatment is felt to be more fundamental in the case of
spaces and times. The essential prerequisite for quantity,
-as we now see, is the existence of a continuum of qualitatively
similar objects, for it is this which renders quantitative com-
parison possible. Now in extensive quantities, the con-
tinuum is actually given not indeed as a definite whole,
but as an extent with vanishing boundaries. The continuum
is primarily undivided, and remains indifferent to its divi-
sions, which thus appear as bits of it. The assemblage of
.all possible temperatures or degrees of pleasure is obviously
a, construction of thought ; space and time, on the contrary,
seem like " infinite given wholes," of which particular spaces
and times are limitations. The continuum required for
quantitative treatment is thus more prominent in the case of
extensive than in that of intensive quantities it is given,
instead of being a mere construction of thought.
1 Of. James, Psychology, vol. ii., pp. 148-51.
ON THE RELATIONS OF NUMBER AND QUANTITY. 339
Finally, the reduction of measure to number must, on the
view here taken, appear as extraneous and merely convenient.
Measure, on our theory, is an independent kind of compari-
son, yielding judgments of more or less. The reduction of
extensive to intensive quantities, at an earlier stage of this
paper, still holds good ; the two do not differ logically, but
only in the manner in which they are given. At most they
differ in this, that extensive quantities are relations, while
intensive quantities are adjectives. Relations and adjectives
alike, however, are indivisible, and the division, on which
the application of number is based, is logically a delusion,
and due only to our hypostatising space and time. Even
so, the application of number to spaces and times rests on
equality, which is here a quantitative relation, having no
accurate counterpart in number. 1 Quantity or measure,
therefore, as the mere more or less, should be put among
conceptions of relation, and wholly separated from number.
The connexion of quantity with number so we must con-
clude is due partly to motives of convenience, but mainly
to a confusion between two fundamentally distinct ways of
regarding space and time.
Thus measure removes the contradictions, in the con-
ception of quantity, which appeared in the first part of this
paper. To this extent, it is a real advance upon quantity
regarded as intrinsic. But it must not be supposed that all
contradictions are removed from the conception of measure.
The chief difference is, that these contradictions now appear
in the properties of terms compared. For although quantity,
in our present sense, is not a common property of quantities,
some common properties are involved. When we investigate
these we shall see, I think, that they render measure de-
pendent on the inadequacy of thought to sense, and thus
still logically self-contradictory.
Our result so far is as follows : First, we saw that two
1 It is important to observe that the conception of equality proper
does not occur in the treatment of number. Equality does not occur,
to begin with, in applied number, for here we have no guarantee of the
equality of the units the fact that the number of two collections is the
same is no ground for affirming their equality. Equality therefore, if it
occurs in number at all, must occur in pure number. In pure number,
however, what we get is not equality, but identity. Thus the numerical
measurement of extensive quantities consists of two steps : in the first,
which alone is quantitative, we assure ourselves that we have a collection
of equal quantities ; in the second, we count these equal quantities as we
might count anything else. The single extensive quantity which results
from our counting is thus numerically measured in terms of any one of
our original equal quantities.
340 B. BUSSELL:
things which differ quantitatively do not differ conceptually
in anything except quantity. Secondly, we saw that quantity
is not an inherent conceptual property of quantitative things.
From these two propositions it follows that two things
which only differ quantitatively do not differ in the concep-
tions applicable to them. Nevertheless, since we found that
quantity is not an immediate sense-datum, we were forced
to admit that quantity is a conception, but a conception of
comparison. Hence, in a judgment of more or less, we have
a conception of difference without a difference of conception.
This seems to constitute a contradiction : between two
things which are in all points conceptually alike, there
ought to be no difference, but complete and entire similarity.
From this contradiction, we can derive a definition of the
intensive continuum, and of the kind of things to which
quantity is applicable.
To begin with, though quantitative comparison is con-
ceptual, the terms compared must have no conceptual
differences. They must differ, but not in the conceptions
applicable to them. Thus measure must apply, not to con-
ceptions, but to immediate data as such. These are col-
lected by conception into classes, until this process reaches
its limit in the infimce species of immediate data. If con-
ception were adequate, all the instances of any infima
species ought to be precisely similar, but this, it appears, is
not the case. Although our instances cannot be concep-
tually differentiated, comparison still discovers differences
among them. 1 We have, however, a conception by which
we can express the result of comparison as to their differ-
ences, and this conception is measure, i.e., the more or less.
By means of measure, the whole bundle of instances can be
arranged in an ordered series of increasing or decreasing
magnitude. But if thought were adequate to these data, it
would apply a different conception to each : to confess that
this cannot be done is to confess that the point of difference
is unintelligible. Since every content of consciousness is,
in one aspect, necessarily an immediate datum, quantity is
applicable to every conceivable content, but only qua im-
mediate datum. Thus belief, in Psychology, is subject to
quantity, since I may hold a belief with different degrees
of conviction ; but judgment, in Logic, is not subject to
quantity. It must be maintained, therefore, that quantity
1 This seems to be the point urged by Kant against Mendelssohn's
proof of the indestructibility of the soul. Kant regards the soul as an
intensive quantity. See Krit. d. r. V., 2nd ed., pp. 413-15.
ON THE BELATIONS OF NUMBER AND QUANTITY. 341
applies to contents only when they are regarded as im-
mediate data, and applies then only because such data are
not fully understood. In this it differs from number, for
number can, by abstraction, be applied to a material per-
fectly understood. While things which can be numbered
together must have some conception in common, things
which can be measured against each other must have no
conception not in common, and yet must differ. This is
only possible in a material not wholly mastered by con-
ception. This material, which is the intensive continuum,
may therefore be thus defined : An intensive continuum is
a collection of data all belonging to one and the same infima
species of conception, and all therefore conceptually alike,
but yet differing in some property which conception has
not mastered. The relation of difference is a relation of
measure, of more or less, and constitutes the conception of
quantity. The necessity of such a conception is a standing
reminder of the inadequacy of thought to sense, or, if we
prefer it, of the fundamental irrationality of sense.
III. HEGEL'S TREATMENT OF THE CATE-
GORIES OF THE SUBJECTIVE NOTION. 1 (II.)
BY J. ELLIS MCTAGGART.
JUDGMENT OF SUBSUMPTION.
Singular Judgment.
ALL Judgments of Inherence are, as we have said, Singular.
The Judgment of Subsumption, which is derived from the
Judgment of Inherence, will consequently start as a Singu-
lar Judgment. Its outer form will therefore be exactly the
same as in the Positive Judgment of Inherence, for ex-
ample, "This is red". But the difference is that, in the Judg-
ment of Inherence, the singularity of the Judgment was an
essential part of its nature as a Judgment of Inherence.
Here, on the other hand, it is merely the form with which
we start, which can be modified if it is not found to be a
suitable form.
Particular Judgment.
That it is not a suitable form has been already shown,
and the increasing definiteness of the ideas only makes the
imperfection of the formula more plainly obvious. Again
we find an Individual and a Universal, with no possible
connexion between them except identity, which identity
is impossible by their very definitions. We must pass on.
Instead of taking a single Individual, we must take, as the
form of Subsumption entitles us to do, several Individuals at
once. Thus we reach the Particular Judgment, " Some
roses are red ".
It will be noticed that we have done more than increase
indefinitely the number of the Individuals. Our Singular
Judgment had only one Universal red. But our Particular
Judgment has two rose and red.
1 Read before the Aristotelian Society.
HEGEL'S TREATMENT OP THE SUBJECTIVE NOTION. 343
How, it may be asked, were we entitled to make this ad-
vance ? It implies that whenever two or more things have
one common quality, they will also have another. Now
we are entitled to assume this, because we have seen that
you can always find a common quality for any two things
if only you go high enough. In the last resort there are
qualities common to everything that they are real, that
they have external connexions, and so forth. So, when we
have predicated a Universal of any two or more Individuals,
however dissimilar in other respects those Individuals may
prove to be, we know that some other Universal may
always be found, which they have in common, and we shall
be enabled to put our assertion in the form Some A are B
where A and B are both universals.
Of course, the higher we have to go for our second uni-
versal, the less information we get. " Some judges are cor-
rupt " is a much more interesting and significant proposition
than " Some officials are corrupt," and the latter again is an
improvement on the more general proposition " Some men
are corrupt ". But although the importance of the proposi-
tion which we can obtain may vary, some proposition of this-
form will always be true. Every Universal will have more
than one Individual under it, and these Individuals can
always be stated as coming under yet another Universal.
And this fresh way of stating them is essential. For
merely to take a plurality of isolated Individuals instead of
a single one, would not solve the problem, but leave it as
hopeless as before. The same difficulty would occur* about,
each Individual separately, and the only change would be
that it would be repeated many times over. It is not trans-
cended till we have grouped the Individuals under another
Universal, and so made the Judgment the expression of the
relation between two Universals.
Judgment of Allness,
To make it more definite must be our next step. A
Particular Judgment can never be a full account of the facts
to be explained. It marks out a class and says that some
members have a certain quality, and some have not. This,
taken by itself, is to assert of each member of the class the
same proposition, it may or may not have the quality. But.
this is not the truth. Of some members of the class we must
say, if we are to speak the truth, This has the quality; of
others we must say This has not the quality. Instead of
making the same problematic statement about all of them,
344 J. ELLIS MCTAGGABT :
we must make one of two definite statements about each of
them.
Now we cannot take them one by one, and, pointing
to each in turn, say This has it, This has not it, and so on.
For then we should have got back to predicating Universals
of mere Individuals as such, and this we have seen already
to be inadmissible. Since the Individuals of the subject,
then, are not to be taken as Individuals, they must be united
by a Universal there is no other way. And we have just
seen that it will not do to unite them by a Universal which
covers more Individuals besides them, since this will give
only a Particular Judgment. There is only one course left.
We must group our Individuals by means of a Subject-
Universal which just covers them, so that we can say that
wherever the Subject- Universal is found the Predicate-
Universal will be found too. In other words, we must be
able to make general propositions. We must be able to say
All A are B. All the Individuals, of which the predicate can
be affirmed, need not indeed be brought under the same
Subject-Universal. That would mean that we had discovered
an invariable antecedent to B, and could say, not only that
All A is B, but that All B is A. This is unnecessary. What we
must be able to do is to bring all the Individuals, of which B
is predicated, under some Subject-Universal or another, so
that, whenever we predicate B, we have some Universal
which is invariably accompanied by B.
The advance which is made in this category is evident and
striking. Here, for the first time, w r e become entitled to
assert general propositions. That is to say, for the first time
science becomes possible. However certainly and clearly it
be known that everything stood in relations of reciprocal
causality with everything else, and that nothing happened
without a cause, this would be insufficient for science. Un-
less the results of that determination could be expressed in
general propositions, so that we can say that some are always
or never found in conjunction with others, it would be im-
possible to classify, to predict, or to explain.
The step is important, and it is one at which the sceptic
often stops. He will admit, sometimes, that there really are
general qualities qualities possessed by more than one
Individual, but he will deny that there really are any general
laws connecting one quality with another. He does not
merely assert that the general laws which we have in fact
discovered have much that is subjective and erroneous about
them, which no one could deny to be true in the present
imperfect state of our knowledge. He asserts, further, that
HEGEL'S TREATMENT OF THE SUBJECTIVE NOTION. 345
there are no valid and objective laws to be found, that the
objective truth lies only in the particular Individuals, that
the uniformities we have found, when true, are merely
accidental, and that we have no right to assume that they
do exist in cases where they have not yet been found.
It may be worth while, therefore, to recapitulate the steps
which have led us to our present conclusion. The Indi-
viduals of which a certain Universal can be predicated must
be either isolated or connected. If they are connected it
can only be by a second Universal introduced into the
Subject. Now this Subject-Universal may either include
other Individuals of which the Predicate-Universal is not true,
or it may include only those to which the Predicate-Universal
does apply. We have thus three cases. The first gives the
Singular Judgment, and that we have seen, in the Judgment
of Inherence, to lead to contradictions if we try to take it as
an independent and adequate form. The second gives the
Particular Judgment, which we have also seen to be
inadequate as an independent form, since it only predicates
the same uncertainty about all the members of a class, al-
though the truth is that some of them are certainly one
thing, and some of them certainly the other. There remains
only the third alternative, and this gives what Hegel calls
the Judgment of Allness All things which have the Subject-
Universal have the Predicate-Universal.
That it is by the Judgment of Allness we are to escape
from our difficulty, if we are to escape from it at all, seems
clear, since it is the only alternative left. But can we escape
in this way ? Does the Judgment of Allness avoid the diffi-
culties which made us surrender successively the Singular
and the Particular Judgments?
The defect of the Particular Judgment is obviously re-
moved by it. That defect was that it did not enable us to
say definitely of each Individual included in the Subject,
whether it did or did not possess the Predicate. But with
the Judgment of Allness we can say definitely of each of
those Individuals that it does possess the Predicate.
The defect of the Singular Judgment lay, as we have seen,
in the fact that the Subject and the Predicate could not be
regarded as identical. Nor are they identical in the Judg-
ment of Allness. If we say All lions are mammals, it is
true that there are many mammals which are not lions,
and that lions have many qualities not shared by the rest
of the mammalia. But we have now risen to a point at
which it is no longer necessary to identify the Subject and
the Predicate. We do not require to say here that the
346 J. ELLIS MCTAGGART :
Subject-Universal and the Predicate-Universal are in any
sense identical. Our proposition only means that, wherever
the Subject is found, the Predicate will be found also. This
relation was not possible in the Singular Judgment, because
the Subject there is a mere Individual, and therefore had no
significance apart from the Universal, since, as we had pre-
viously seen, its whole nature was made up of Universals.
It had not enough independence to enter into any relation
with the Universal which required it to be in any way dis-
tinguished from the Universal. Its relation could only be
simple identity if that can be called a relation and that
w r as contradictory. Now, on the other hand, the Subject,
denned by a Universal, has an independent meaning, and
can enter into a different relation with the Predicate. We
speak now, not of identity, but of the co-existence of Uni-
versals. There is therefore no longer any difficulty in the
fact that the two Universals have different connotations and
denotations, and thus the Judgment of Allness has vindi-
cated its right to be considered as a synthesis, since it has
transcended the defects both of thesis and antithesis.
The result gained may be stated from another point of view
that it is impossible to suppose that the only connexion
of the various Universals which are found in any Individual
is its mere abstract Individuality, and that the Universals
have no connexions among themselves. For the abstract
Individuality, as distinct from the Universals, is a mere
nonentity, incapable of bearing this, or any other, burden.
If the Universals are found together and that we saw they
must be there must be some ground of connexion between
Universals themselves.
In thus transcending Singular and Particular Judgments,
we do not, of course, pronounce them to be false, but only
inadequate. It may be quite true to say " This is red ". What
we have gained in this triad is the knowledge that This
(whatever it may be) could not be red, unless it belonged to
some class of things, defined by some other Universal, of
all of which redness might be predicated.
We now leave the Individual for the present. Our Judg-
ment has become a relation between Universals, and the
rest of the Subjective Notion is occupied in developing this
relation. A certain one-sidedness caused by this will be
counterbalanced in the Objective notion and synthesised in
the Idea.
HEGEL'S TEEATMENT OF THE SUBJECTIVE NOTION. 347
JUDGMENT OF NECESSITY.
Categorical Judgment.
The general propositions, such as All A is B, which we
reached in the Judgment of Allness, involve the existence of
some connexion between the Universals A and B. Such a
proposition cannot merely mean that we have enumerated
all the Individuals who have the quality A, and, finding out
that each of them has the quality B, have summed up our
various discoveries. For such Judgments would not be Uni-
versal at all. They would be mere collections of Singular
Judgments, and therefore, of course, unable to perform their
task of transcending the defects of Singular Judgments.
Our Judgments of Allness then mean that the possession of
the one Universal is connected with the possession of the
other, not merely by a uniform accident but by some rela-
tion between the Universals which brings it about as a
necessity. 1 This brings us to the next triad, which Hegel
calls the Judgment of Necessity. The first form of this is
the Categorical Judgment. This, as is to be expected, is
practically identical with the Judgment of Allness. It only
affirms, in so many words, that connexion between the
Universals which formed the essence of the Judgment of
Allness. This slight increase in explicitness is marked by
discarding the form of Subsumption which was still left in
the Judgment of Allness. That is, instead of saying " All
lions are mammals," we now say " The lion is a mammal ".
Or again, instead of " All Privy Councillors are styled Eight
Honourable," we say " The Privy Councillor is styled Right
Honourable ". The last example may serve to remind us
that the Categorical Judgment is not confined to ultimate
truths, nor to propositiona dealing with what Mill calls
Natural Kinds. Any connexion, which can be asserted as
always existing between two Universals, can be expressed
in a Categorical Judgment.
Hypothetical Judgment.
This is only a more explicit way of putting the connexion
between Universals which constitutes the Categorical Judg-
ment. It follows immediately from the Categorical Judg-
ment. If we say " The A is B," this asserts that B is one of
1 Whether this necessity may not be based on a number of Singular
Judgments, although it cannot be those Judgments, is another question.
We shall have to discuss it later on, when we come to deal with the
Syllogism of Reflexion.
J. ELLIS MCTAGGART :
the qualities of every A. A, of course, has other qualities.
Let these other qualities be called X. Then it is at once
clear that, if anything is X, it is B. Here we have the
Hypothetical Judgment. The advance, such as it is, con-
sists in eliminating the slight suggestion of Subsumption,
which remains even in the Categorical Judgment, and so
bringing out more clearly the necessary connexion between
Universals which is the essence of the Judgment of Neces-
sity.
Disjunctive Judgment.
It is clear that Categorical and Hypothetical Judgments
do not admit of simple conversion. It does not follow
because all A is B, that all B will be A. It may be so in
some cases, but we can never logically advance from the one
statement to the other. And we know that in all cases it
cannot be so. For if all Judgments were simply convertible
a Universal could never be connected by them with any
Universal wider than itself. And thus we could never
express by Universals the relation between two Individuals
which resembled one another in some points but not in
others. And since we saw that the nature of Individuals
could only be expressed by Universals, this involves that
such a relation could not be expressed at all. And, as it has
already been shown that every Individual must be like and
unlike every other, it follows that it would be impossible by
such Judgments to express the nature of Individuals at all.
We know, therefore, that in some of our Judgments of
Necessity the Predicate will be wider than the Subject. All
A are B, but there are some B which are not A. Now these
Individuals which are not A cannot be B as simply isolated
Individuals, as was proved above. Each of them must have
some Universal, with which B is invariably connected by
another Categorical Judgment. How many of these there
may be we do not know, but we know that every case of B
must have one of them. Thus we arrive at the conclusion,
all B is either A, or C, or D, where C and D represent an
unknown number of Universals. This is the Disjunctive
Judgment.
The view of the universe which results from the estab-
lishment of the validity of this category can be stated as
follows : The similarities and dissimilarities of Individuals
may be expressed by general propositions concerning the
relations of Universals of different extent, which are such
that the presence of the narrower Universal implies the
HEGEL'S TREATMENT OF THE SUBJECTIVE NOTION. 349
presence of the wider, and that the presence of the wider
Universal implies the presence of one of a certain number
of the narrower.
This, of course, like all the categories to which Hegel has
given the names of Judgment and Syllogism, relates to the
reality which is the object of knowledge, and not to the
mental processes by which we come to know it. The repeti-
tion of this may not be unnecessary, since the constant use
of the terms of formal logic is apt to confuse the student the
moment he is off his guard. In this case the distinction is
clear. From the admission that reality is such that it
cannot be adequately expressed without Categorical Judg-
ments, it has been easy to deduce that it is such that it
cannot be expressed without Disjunctive Judgments. But
if our knowledge entitles us to make a Categorical Judgment
on any subject, it by no means follows that it will entitle us
to make the corresponding Disjunctive. We may know that
the lion is a mammal, and be very far from knowing the com-
plete list of species to one of which every mammal must
belong. 1
SYLLOGISM.
QUALITATIVE SYLLOGISM.
Another question now arises, and compels us to enter the
third and last division of the Subjective Notion. We have
said that two Universals are necessarily connected. How,
and by what, is this necessary connexion made ? It is a
connexion of two Universals which are not identical, for if
they were the proposition would be utterly trivial. On what
can we base this union in difference ?
To the triad in which this point is settled Hegel gives the
name of Syllogism. This seems to me an inappropriate
term. The first of the three divisions does indeed correspond
closely to the Syllogism of Formal Logic. But the second
corresponds to Induction, which is not usually called a
Syllogism. To the third division the name is still more in-
appropriate, since in it the necessity of mediation by a third
term is, as we shall see, transcended altogether. But, in the
absence of a better name, it will perhaps be advisable to
retain this one.
The problem which we have now before us is one which
1 I have omitted Hegel's triad of Judgments of the Notion (see Note C,
which, with the other notes of the series, is here omitted for want of space).
350 J. ELLIS MCTAGGART :
might have presented itself at any point in the Judgment of
Necessity. For as soon as it was realised that the connexion
between the two terms in the Judgment was asserted as
necessary, the question as to the ground of that connexion will
require an answer. It becomes however more imperative
when the Judgment of Necessity has completed its develop-
ment, and assumed the form of the Disjunctive Judgment.
For when we find that B is, in some cases A, in some C, and
in some D, the need for a cause of these varied relations be-
comes more obvious, though not more real, than when we
affirmed the uniform relation All A is B.
Now, if we try to answer this question by inserting a
middle term between the two Universals, this middle term
must either be another Universal or else one or more
Individuals. There is no other alternative. As we have
already established the fact that there is some connexion
between Universals, it will be natural to try and avail our-
selves of this as the middle term. We connect A with M,
and M with B. In this way we should assert that the
manner in which Universals were connected was expressed
by the ordinary Syllogisms of deductive formal logic. The
simplest examples of these are to be found in the mood
Barbara for example, " All men are mortal, all philosophers
are men, therefore all philosophers are mortal ".
Hegel calls the middle term of the Qualitative Syllogism
Particularity. l This does not appear to have any very
definite connexion with the Particular Notion, as it was
described previously. What it seems to signify is that the
Universal does not here manifest its true nature (which
will become evident in the last subdivision of all), by which
it is inherently and ultimately connected with other
Universals, but is, on the contrary, regarded as a hard and
fast unit, which can only be connected with anything else by
external links. But why this should be called Particularity
is not obvious. 2
SYLLOGISM OF EEFLEXION.
To connect two Universals by means of another is often
a perfectly legitimate and indispensable process. But if we
take this method of connexion as a category, and so claim
for it universal validity, we find that it is contradictory.
The problem, to solve which it arose, was How can two
1 Enc., section 182.
2 Hegel divides the Qualitative Syllogism into the First, Second, and
Third figures. But this seems to me to be indefensible (see Note D).
HEGEL'S TREATMENT OF THE SUBJECTIVE NOTION. 351
Universals ever be connected ? The answer here given is By
the connexion of each with a Universal. This answer pre-
supposes the solution of the difficulty it proposes to solve,
and is therefore worthless.
And so, if we ever tried to explain anything by this
principle, we should be involved in a False Infinite. When
to take our former example we have connected philosophers
and mortality, by using man as a middle term, we should
have to find two other middle terms one to connect
philosophers and man, the other to connect man and mortal.
When we had found these, four more would be required to
connect them with the terms which they were to connect,
and thus we should only solve one problem by raising two
more, and so on for ever.
If a Universal will not serve as the middle term, there is
only one alternative left, if we are to have a middle term at
all the Individual. With the attempt to make the Individual
the middle term we reach what Hegel calls the Syllogism of
Reflexion. 1 We have already seen that it is impossible that
the Universal Judgment should be equivalent to a series of
Judgments about mere Individuals. We have now to consider
whether the Universal Judgment can be based upon such a
series.
LAWS OF NATURE.
Categorical Laws.
To do this is impossible. We saw, in dealing with the
Judgments of Inherence and Subsumption, that a Judgment
about an Individual could only be valid when it was depend-
ent upon a Universal Judgment, and that an Individual
Judgment taken by itself is contradictory and inadequate.
Since all Individual Judgments must be based upon Uni-
versal Judgments, it is obviously out of the question that all
Universal Judgments should be based upon Individual Judg-
ments.
W r hat is to be done now ? We have reached the con-
clusion that to demand the mediation of all Universal
Judgments is useless. Whether we attempt to mediate,
then, by Universals or by Individuals, we find that insuper-
able difficulties present themselves. Only one alternative
remains to deny the necessity of mediation, at least as a
universal requirement.
In this way alone shall we be able to escape from our
1 This also is divided by Hegel into three subdivisions (see Note E).
352 J. ELLIS MCTAGGART :
difficulties. We are led to the conclusion that there exist
certain laws certain conjunctions of Universals which do
not require explanation, but are themselves the basis from
which everything else can be explained. These ultimately
valid Judgments I should propose to call Laws of Nature. 1
Not all Judgments of Necessity are Laws of Nature.
Many of them are merely subordinate and derivative, and
can be deduced from others. But the existence of those
Judgments which are not Laws of Nature is only possible
on the supposition that there are others which are Laws of
Nature, and from which the subordinate Judgments can be
deduced.
Nor, again, is it meant that we can know these Laws of
Nature a priori. We know a priori by the dialectic that
there must be such laws, and that all Universal Judgments
must be deducible from them. But what they are can only
be known to us empirically and by induction, and so can
never be known with absolute certainty. This of course
does not make the existence of the category any less certain
a priori. This point is important, as Hegel's assertion, that
we know a priori that there are such Laws, seems sometimes
to have led to the impression that he supposed that we could
deduce the Laws themselves by pure thought. The real
state of the case may be illustrated by the lower categories.
The category of Quantum tells us that everything must have
a definite magnitude. This is certain a priori, although we
can never find out the magnitude of any particular thing
except by an empirical process of measuring, into which it is
always possible that some small inaccuracy has crept.
Our result is, then, that there exist certain laws in the
universe which are not merely analytic, which are not
deducible from others, and which are not mere generalisa-
tions from instances, although they can only become known
to us by generalisation from instances. The first two points
would, I suppose, be almost universally admitted. Few
people would be disposed to deny that it is impossible that
every truth should rest on another without any being ulti-
mate. And, in the present day at least, it would be gener-
ally allowed that it is impossible to reduce all our knowledge
to merely analytic propositions.
But it is sometimes asserted that general laws have no
objective validity at all. All that is really objective, it is said,
is the various Individuals, together with the qualities which
1 See Mill's Logic, book iii., chap, iv., section 1. For Hegel's
nomenclature in this triad see Note F.
HEGEL'S TREATMENT OF THE SUBJECTIVE NOTION. 353
render them like or unlike one another. If we find two
qualities together in several cases, we have a tendency to
expect one whenever we see the other, and we find that this
tendency, when we take certain precautions, is so often right
as to be of great assistance to us. Indeed life would be
impossible except for it. But the general propositions thus
formed are mere creations of our minds, and have nothing
corresponding to them in the objective world, which consists
of nothing but particular facts.
We have seen that this view is untenable, since it in-
volves the ultimate validity of Judgments dealing with
Individuals as such. But it may be worth while to consider
it from another standpoint and to show that the process of
Induction cannot lead to any valid conclusions whatever,
except on the hypothesis that some Universal Judgments
have objective validity, and that the purpose of Induction is
to discover, and not to create, those Judgments.
All Induction can be reduced to this typical formula,
This is A and B, that is A, therefore that is B. All the
elaborate devices of science are based 011 this, that the
presence of one quality in a thing is a ground for expressing
the presence of another quality, which has on other occa-
sions been found in company with the first. Now if we
assume that there are objective Universal Judgments, that
one quality is objectively connected with another then the
presence, in any case, of two qualities in the same thing,
gives some -reason for supposing that they are connected,
and will therefore be found together elsewhere. The mere
occurrence in a single case would, indeed, be a very slight
ground for such a conclusion, but one which might be inde-
finitely strengthened if several other instances were ex-
amined, and also found to possess both qualities, and if
these instances were such as to render a mere chance coin-
cidence improbable. In this way an Induction may be
strengthened till it reaches almost complete certainty.
But on the hypothesis we are now considering there is no
objective connexion of Universals which we can presuppose
only a subjective connexion, which is merely the result of
the Induction, and cannot therefore be assumed in making
the Induction. It 'therefore follows, that, in making the In-
duction, we have not the least right to assume even the
slightest probability of A being really connected with B, in
the first of the two cases. The fact that each of the two
cases is A must be struck out as irrelevant. Our formula
then becomes This is B, therefore that is B, which is
plainly absurd, since, if it had any validity, it would enable
23
354 J. ELLIS MCTAGGAET :
us to predicate any quality, which was possessed by any In-
dividual, of every other Individual in the universe.
It is evident that on this we can found, not only no ap-
proach to certainty, but no probability or presumption, even
of the lightest kind. If two Universals are never connected,
except in our subjective expectations, then the presence of
two Universals in one Individual can never give the least
probability that one of them will be accompanied by the
other in another Individual. If, on the other hand, two Uni-
versals are really connected, then general laws have objective
existence, and are not merely our inferences from particular
cases.
Our antagonist may, however, take up a more definitely
sceptical position. He may admit that the inference which
is made in Induction is perfectly unjustifiable from a logical
point of view, that the conclusion is not made in the
slightest degree probable by the premises. But he may say
that he never put it forward as logically justifiable, but
simply as actually existing. We have, he may say, a
natural tendency to expect B to accompany A in one case,
if we have seen that it accompanies A in another. We may
not be able to justify this impulse, but we cannot deny the
psychological fact that we have it.
This position however involves a contradiction. For it
denies the validity of general propositions by an argument
of which general propositions are essential links. No general
proposition is logically defensible this is itself a general
proposition. If, therefore, we make it, by that very act we
condemn it as logically indefensible. It is impossible to
state this view without denying it, and the result would be,
not merely the rejection of one species of knowledge, but
complete and utter scepticism. And complete scepticism is
in the same plight as self-contradiction. For if you assert
that nothing is certain, you assert, among other things,
that your denial of certainty is not certain.
Besides these general considerations an argument ad
homines may be addressed to those who assert the basis of
inference to be an irrational impulse. They do, in point of
fact, trust to it. And not only do they trust inferences when
they have made them, but they take great trouble to put
themselves in a position to make more. They conduct, or
speak with approval of others who conduct, researches in
physical science. They laboriously accumulate instances,
and examine what general qualities are found in combination
in them, for no other purpose, on their own showing, than
that they may become the victims of an irresistible, though
HEGEL'S TREATMENT OF THE SUBJECTIVE NOTION. 355
indefensible, impulse to believe that in other instances, as
yet untested, the presence of one of these qualities will be a
mark of the presence of the other.
Their answer is that it is found in practice that to trust
to this impulse produces on the whole useful results, and
that, indeed, if we did not trust to it, it would be impossible
to live at all. Now it has, no doubt, been found in the past
that such inferences, if made with certain precautions, will
in many cases be useful. But why should this cause us to
trust them in the future? Only if we make an inference
from the utility of some inferences in the past to the utility
of other inferences in the -future. And thus our attempt to
give a merely practical value to inference breaks down, since
we cannot do it unless we admit one inference at the least to
be logically defensible.
To return from this digression the simplest form which
the Law of Nature can assume will be the Categorical ; for
example, " The lion is a mammal ". The proposition, it will
be noticed, is exactly the same in its external form as that of
any other Categorical Judgment. It differs from the latter
only in the implication that it is one of those Judgments,
which we have now seen must exist, which are true, not as
deductions from any other, but in their own right. As know-
ledge advances many propositions, which were once accepted
as ultimate, and considered to be Laws of Nature, are found
to be deducible from others, and lose that title. Our con-
viction that a certain Judgment deserves to rank among
ultimate Laws is generally only negative i.e. it rests on our
inability, for the present at any rate, to find a more funda-
mental Judgment on which to base it.
Hypothetical Laws.
This transition is exactly the same as the corresponding
one under the head of the Judgment of Necessity. All
Categorical Judgments have their Hypothetical equivalents,
which are true if the Categorical Judgments are true, and
this applies, of course, to those ultimate Judgments which
are called Laws of Nature. If it is an ultimate truth that
the lion is a mammal, it is also an ultimate truth that, if any-
thing possesses the qualities which define a lion, it will be a
mammal.
Disjunctive Laws.
Here, too, the transition is the same as in Judgments of
Necessity. Since the various Universals have between them
356 J. ELLIS MCTAGGAET :
to unite and to differentiate everything in the universe, their
ultimate connexions must, in some cases at least, be between
Universals of different extent. It will happen then with
Categorical Laws, as it did with Categorical Judgments, that
in some cases the Predicate-Universal will be wider than the
Subject-Universal. The Individuals included under this
further extent of the Predicate, must be connected with it by
one or more other Subject- Universals. And so, by enume-
rating all the narrower Universals which come under a wider
one, we get the Disjunctive Law the final form of the
Subjective Notion.
Here we have the essentially Hegelian idea of the self-
differentiating Notion. The phrase is a rather alarming one,
and seems to suggest mysterious and recondite activity. But
the reality is simple. It means nothing but a Universal,
which is always accompanied by one of a certain number of
subordinate Universals which are not deducible from it, but
which are peculiar to it. Thus, if we take the co-existence
of the chief characteristics of animals as an ultimate truth,
we may get the Law All vertebrates are either mammals
or fish (leaving out the other sub -classes for the sake of
brevity). Every vertebrate will have one of these additional
qualifications. They are not deducible from the mere idea
of a vertebrate animal, in which there is nothing which
would prevent all vertebrates from being mammals, or some
of them from belonging to some sub- class which does
not in fact exist. And the sub-classes are peculiar to the
class, for there are no mammals or fish which are not verte-
brate. This is the connexion of Universals which has been
rendered necessary by the conception of Individuals as simi-
lar and dissimilar with which the Subjective Notion started.
The conception of a self-differentiating Notion has been
rather misunderstood. It is sometimes supposed to mean
that a Universal when it is one of the ultimate Universals
which enter into Laws of Nature splits itself up by pure
thought in the same way that the dialectic advances by pure
thought. You have only to take the idea of a class and
examine it with sufficient care, and it will proceed to develop
the ideas of its sub-classes. In fact, the old story of the
German who conducted his zoological studies by endeavour-
ing to evolve the idea of a camel out of his inner conscious-
ness, is scarcely a parody of what is supposed by some people
to be Hegel's theory on this subject.
Such a theory is obviously incorrect, nor do I believe that
there is the slightest evidence for the view that it was
Hegel's. The only case in which Hegel professes to evolve
HEGEL'S TREATMENT OF THE SUBJECTIVE NOTION. 357
anything by pure thought is in the dialectic. He there
evolves only categories, which are themselves forms of pure
thought. The great majority, on the other hand, of the
Universals which appear in Laws of Nature have an empiri-
cal element in them. And there is no evidence whatever
that Hegel imagined that a new empirical idea could ever be
produced by pure thought.
Nor, even in the dialectic, does Hegel give us a Notion
differentiating itself by pure thought. The lower (in the
sense of the less adequate) passes into the higher, but the
higher (in the sense of the more extensive) never divides
itself up into the lower.
The self-differentiation of the Notion, then, does not imply
any inherent dialectic. It only means that it is an ultimate
and inherent characteristic of the Notion that it is always
united with one of several others. What these others are
must be discovered by us through observation and experi-
ment, and, when they are found, the conjunction must be
accepted by us as an ultimate fact.
We have reached now the conception of a regular system
of laws proceeding from the more general to the less general,
embracing at the top the whole of reality in a single unity,
and at the bottom accounting for every quality in every indi-
vidual. This conception did not develop till the Disjunctive
Laws were reached. A Categorical Law connects one Uni-
versal with another wider than itself, and leaves the rest of
the extent of this wider universal undetermined. No Cate-
gorical Law, therefore, can deal with the whole of the field
to which it refers. But in a Disjunctive Law the whole of
the field covered by the Subject-Universal is systematically
divided and determined. And, since all Individuals must
have some common quality, the widest Subject-Universal to
be found in any Disjunctive Law must be one which includes
all reality, and the network of laws will be co-extensive with
the universe.
Let us recapitulate briefly the more striking points in our
advance. We started, in the Universal Notion as Such, with
general qualities. We gained the idea of classification, for
the first time, in the Particular Judgment, where, for the first
time, we were concerned with the relation of two Universals.
In the Categorical Judgment we made the all-important ad-
vance to universal truths, and in the Categorical Laws we
perceived that universal truths were not only true, but ulti-
mate. Finally, in the Disjunctive Laws we find that these
ultimate general truths form a systematic whole.
In this process we see that the element of contingency
358 J. ELLIS MCTAGGAET : HEGEL'S TREATMENT, ETC.
gradually becomes less and less. When we first reached
Categorical Judgments we had no criterion of the importance
of these Judgments. All Categorical Judgments which were
true, were on a level. It was left entirely undetermined what
things should be grouped with what, because it was left en-
tirely undetermined what Universals we should begin by
taking as the bases of our fundamental divisions. But we
begin to transcend this contingency when we reach the
Categorical Laws of Nature. For we know that these are
ultimate, and all other Categorical Judgments can be de-
duced from them, and this gives us a standard of import-
ance. Those relations between Individuals which are
indicated by Laws of Nature are the vital and essential re-
lations, and a classification is natural and significant in so
far as it expresses these. And in the Disjunctive Laws this
becomes more explicit. For there we see that the ultimate
laws form a regular system, extending over all reality, and
accounting, directly or indirectly, for all the qualities of
everything. We have thus a complete classification objec-
tively existing, and our particular classifications will have
value in so far as they approximate to this.
Here the Subjective Notion ends. The question which
will next arise how are some Individual As determined
to be B and not C, and others to be C and not B ? will carry
us on to the Objective Notion.
IV. ARISTOTLE'S THEORY OF INCONTINENCE
A CONTRIBUTION TO PRACTICAL ETHICS. 1
BY W. H. FAIRBEOTHEB.
IN his Introduction to the seventh book of the Nicomachcean
Ethics Grant remarks : " The chief thing we have to com-
plain of in this book is the too vague way in which Incon-
tinence is treated. For the sake of forming a more definite
notion of the standard of Greek morality, we could have
wished a graphic portrait of the continent man, in the style
of Aristotle's fourth book. As it is, we must be content
to know that the continent man yields to temptation less,
and the incontinent man more, than people in general."
This criticism, slight as it is, and of very questionable
value, yet brings out indirectly an important truth, which
cannot be too much before our minds whenever we are
trying to estimate any portion of Aristotle's ethical teaching,
viz., that our test must be practical as well as theoretical
we might almost say practical and not theoretical. Like
the carpenter to whom he compares himself in the first
book of the Ethics, he values truth only so far as it is
' useful in practice,' and he holds that we study Ethical
Science not (like other sciences) that " we may know what
virtue is, but in order that we may become good ". 2 If this
is Aristotle's attitude towards Ethical study as a whole, it is
peculiarly so in dealing with the all-important practical
question of " doing what we know to be wrong". That a
man may sin against a law, of the existence of which he is
ignorant, is comprehensible, and needs no explanation. It
is sufficient to note the fact and pass on. That, again, a
man, of exceptionally strong will, might persuade himself
that what other people (or people generally) think wrong is
really right, or believe that ordinary moral distinctions are
1 Bead before the Aristoteli&n Society.
2 N. E., ii., 2, 1. Cf. i, 3, 6 ; x., 9, 1.
360 W. H. FAIBBROTHER :
a delusive, though highly convenient, refuge for the weak,
and, so believing, deliberately pursue ' vicious ' pleasure as
his true ' end,' is a possibility which requires little demon-
stration intellectually, and may be seen manifest occasionally
in actual life. These cases exist, they are ethically and
practically interesting, they are worthy of careful portrayal
both in themselves and in the effects they may be expected
to produce upon the well-being of the community ; but they
admit of little dispute, they require little in the way of ex-
planation, and they are comparatively infrequent. The
greater proportion of the wrong-doing we see falls under
neither of these categories. The average citizen, when
brought to book for offences committed, often pleads ex-
tenuating circumstances may sometimes urge that circum-
stances "were too much for him" but he does not plead
ignorance of that ' Morality formulated in Law,' TO ^6/u/ioi/
Sifcaiov, which as a citizen he knows he ought to obey ; still
less does he glory in striving after an ' end' abhorrent to the
popular conscience. He ' knew it was wrong but he did it '
is what he admits when honest with himself, and the truth
of the admission is accepted without question by his fellow-
citizens. To this general belief the whole institution of
legal courts and sanctions is due, nor have they any other
justification but the fact that by due punishment by
'making an example' they may help both the offender
and his fellow-citizens to choose the right, and resist the
temptation to wrong, in daily practice.
Here then is a fact of social life, not only interesting but
puzzling, and so widespread that it becomes of the utmost
practical importance to get a clear explanation of its nature
and cause. Such explanation is far from obvious it will
demand lengthy and thorough investigation. But, to begin
with, it is imperative to note that the so-called ' fact ' is not
one but two. Wrong-doingeven in the limited meaning
we are now attaching to the word falls into two distinct
divisions : (1) acts of wrong, in the ordinary sense of the term ;
(2) acts of Incontinence. In the former case the offender
not only 'does wrong,' he is also a 'wrong-doer'; in the
latter, he does indeed ' do wrong,' but he is not a ' wrong-
doer'. 1 This distinction is fundamental, necessitating for
each case a separate, possibly an independent, explanation.
The first of these two cases, fortunately, is, in its essential
nature, easy of comprehension and needs but a short ex-
1 Of. N. E. passim, e.g., vii., 8, 3, 01 aKpareis adiKoi fitv OVK fla-lv, adtKovcri 8e.
ARISTOTLE'S THEORY OF INCONTINENCE. 361
amination. Plato, 1 in his Republic, has explained, once and
for all, the nature and origin of Moral Virtue and Vice in
their ordinary forms. It is a question of training. By
continually doing right things we get a habit of right-doing.
Virtue is not ' born in us,' it arises from constant habitua-
tion (e#eo-i /cat do-fcrfo-ecri) from infancy upwards, by which is
gradually produced a ' power of preservation,' of ' holding to '
that which we know to be right, which, when fully developed,
it is beyond the capacity of any ' Chalestrsean lye,' whether
in the shape of pleasure or pain, fear or stress, to dissolve
out of us. Conversely, absence of this training, or positive
training of a different kind, makes us prone to wrong-doing,
exactly as the doing of unhealthy things produces a diseased
'habit of body'.
So far the matter is intelligible and straightforward. The
disease admits of easy diagnosis and the remedy is not far
to seek. Both Plato in his unpractical dreaming and
Lycurgus in sober fact have manifested the true method
of dealing with it, viz. : a proper, thorough system of State
education, of State training. We must avoid the errors
into which they fell and work strictly upon the lines human
nature affords us not crediting it with an impossible un-
selfishness on the one hand, nor unduly limiting it by a
merely ' physical ' training on the other. The one takes us
from solid earth into regions of empty fancy, the other
reduces us almost to the level of the brute. Let us give full
recognition to the true epyov rov avQpanrov, to all the ele-
ments which make up the nature of this very ' composite '
creature man ; let us formulate our results into a definite
body of Law, which shall be taught by a ' State education,'
enforced by the impersonal but irresistible State power, and
Vice will practically disappear from among us.
But how are we to deal with the man whom no ' Edu-
cation ' can teach, better than he already knows, that a
given action is wrong, in whom no training seems able to
produce a ' Habit ' which will resist any, beyond the
slightest, temptation, and whom no power short of physical
compulsion at the moment can, apparently, keep in the
straight path? There are such men. They are common
1 It is most curious to note how commentators have overlooked
Aristotle's indebtedness to Plato here. Misled probably (but surely
unpardonably ?) by a few words of Aristotle himself, they generally re-
presented him as the inventor of the ' Theory of Habit ' (ei-is) in Ethics
as of the Syllogism hi Logic. The latter point is indisputable, but the
' Theory of Habit ' is identical verbatim with that found in the Republic.
Cf., e.g., 51 SD, 444c, 429c, etc., etc.
362 w. H. FAIRBEOTHER:
enough to possess a well-recognised class name the In-
continent, ol cucpareis : in regard to them we despairingly
cry, " When water sticks in a man's throat what can he drink
to wash it down?" 1 But we ought not to despair. Their
case must admit of that intelligible explanation which is the
preliminary step to a practical remedy. One fact, indeed,
which theoretically adds to our difficulties, gives us practi-
cally a hope of solution, viz. : that not only does the incon-
tinent man know what is right in the given case, he (in
some sense at least) proposes to do it. He does not, it is
true, carry out this purpose, he acts Trapa rrjv Trpoaipe&iv, but
at least, until he falls actually into the temporary abnormal
condition called Incontinence, both his intellectual conviction
and moral purpose are on the right side. How comes it
then that a man can do something which, at the time, he
knows to be wrong and, in fact, would rather not do ?
The problem, Aristotle sees clearly, is mainly a psycho-
logical one. Before, however, attempting to estimate his
answer to this puzzling question it will be well to put
clearly before our minds one or two considerations which
will help us to understand the exact shape it took in Aris-
totle's own mind. In this way we shall not only clear the
ground but definitely limit the discussion to the exact point
at issue an advantage which no one who has ever sought
for assistance among Aristotelian commentators will regard
lightly.
In the first place, all difficulties arising from the modern
question of the ' Freedom of the Will ' may be ignored.
Quite generally, it is obvious that the Incontinent man has
no ' Will ' to speak of, and that all explanation (which is
not purely negative) must be sought for in positive psycho-
logical, or physiological, elements which he admittedly
possesses. More particularly it is clear that the ' Will,'
as we understand it, was not an Aristotelian conception at
all. He has no word for it and does not use it in Moral or
Psychological problems. His material consists of elements
called ' Reason ' and ' Feeling,' and these are conceived of
in a simple, natural manner. Eeason gives us conceptions,
ideas, ' ends ' Feeling affects us pleasantly, or otherwise,
and has kinetic power.
Further, it is important, in view of current writing 2 upon
1 Cf. N. E., vii., 2, 10.
2 1 refer to commentators such as Grant, and more particularly to the
more thorough critical expositions of writers like Eassow, Dr. Stewart
and Prof. Cook Wilson.
ARISTOTLE'S THEORY OF INCONTINENCE. 363
this subject, to beware of the danger lurking in the very
phrase, the Practical Syllogism of limiting our attempt to
understand Aristotle's doctrine too much to purely intel-
lectual considerations. If Aristotle does give us nothing
but an intellectual juggling performed under the sweet
seductiveness of sensuous suggestion, if it is true that he
offers us nothing better than " broken knowledge and moral
obliviousness," it is clear that he stultifies his own teaching,
and forgets the problem he himself formulates. A ' trick of
the intellect,' a ' sophism of the imagination ' these imply
the admission of that Socratic heresy which Aristotle sets
himself to destroy, and, much worse, amount to a denial of
the possibility of Incontinence altogether, with the unendur-
able consequence, man's moral irresponsibility. Throughout
the Nic. Ethics, and the De Anima, nothing is clearer than
Aristotle's insistence upon human responsibility. No actions
are involuntary except those done under ' physical com-
pulsion' or through 'ignorance of the particular fact,'
which, just for these reasons, are not actions at all, pro-
perly speaking, but ' movements '. The incontinent man,
if not (possibly) the ' efficient cause of his actions ' in the
fullest sense, is sufficiently so to be held responsible, and
morally blameworthy, for them. He cannot escape by
pleading ' potential ' versus ' actual ' knowledge, 1 or by urg-
ing some sad ' error of judgment '. To confine, again,
Aristotle's analysis to these intellectual elements is to
ignore that moral ' struggle ' in which the essential nature
of Incontinence consists. Incontinence arises from the fact
that the human mind is composed not only of a ' rational '
part, but also of ' something else which fights and strains
against Eeason'. 2 It would be tedious to enlarge further
upon this point. We must believe, without further parley,
that in his attempt to solve the problem of Incontinence
Aristotle kept clearly before him the convictions (1) that
man is morally responsible for this, as for all other, kind of
wrong-doing ; (2) that Incontinence consists primarily of a
struggle between two different psychical elements Eeason
and Feeling and of the victory of the latter over the
former ; (3) that, consequently, no ' Sophistic ' attempt to
explain the phenomenon as due to fallacious reasoning, to
1 It is interesting to note here that Prof. Cook Wilson, believing that
Nic. Eth., vii., 3, offers us only a subtle analysis of 'kinds of knowledge,'
concludes, legitimately enough on that assumption, that this portion of
bk. vii. is neither Aristotelian nor Eudeuiian.
2 Cf. Nic. Eth., i., 13, 15, et passim.
364 W. H. FAIRBROTHER :
incomplete apprehension of the facts, etc., etc., can be
finally satisfactory. From these convictions it follows that
the problem narrows itself to a single question, viz., TL Kwel
ra fiopia what is the actual efficient cause of that physical
movement in which every action outwardly consists ? The
man, the moment before the act, is, to outward observation,
at rest. " What then is it," asks analytic practical Aristotle,
"which produces that sudden stretching out of the hand,
that hasty raising to the mouth, that passionate suction
of the lips, which together make up the immoral act
called ' tasting the forbidden thing ' ? " Answer this ques-
tion truthfully and the problem is solved. At one stroke
we shall free ourselves from those endless dialectical
subtleties, based upon true but irrelevant distinctions
between ' knowledge,' ' opinion ' and the like, which have
hitherto occupied men's minds. The problem is : ' What
moves the limbs?' These distinctions, important though
they are, all fall within the region of Reason alone, and
Reason alone cannot ' move '.
The question, as thus stated, Aristotle attempts to
answer in the third chapter of the Nic. Eth., bk. vii., and,
more particularly, in 9-11 of that chapter, where he
examines it, in his own phrase, </>ua-t/c&>? according to its
true essential nature. We may summarise this chapter as
follows :
"It is disputed whether the incontinent man sins know-
ingly or not, and in what sense of the word knowing. In
regard to this problem we say :
" (1) In the first place the distinction which some in-
genious reasoners draw between ' true opinion ' and ' know-
ledge ' will not help us here. They argue that the incontinent
man is fully conscious, both of what he is doing and that it
is wrong to do it, but that this consciousness is not that
knowledge which amounts to demonstrated truth not
knowledge proper but merely ' opinion '. In this way they
save the claim of ' knowledge ' to be all-convincing and all-
powerful, without adopting the absurd alternative that the
incontinent man does not know what he is doing. This
distinction is important in itself, and in its application to
science, but irrelevant to the moral problem before us. In
many cases the incontinent man is unaware that the opinion
he holds is merely opinion ; he imagines it to be absolute,
demonstrated truth (a/rpt/Sw? elSevai), and in any case the
question is not whether his opinion be true or not, but how
he comes to act contrary to it. In other words, how is it
possible for him to do what he believes to be wrong ? Such
AKISTOTLE'S THEORY OF INCONTINENCE. 365
belief, though often mere prejudice, may be as strongly held
as scientific knowledge could ever be.
"(2) In the second place we must note that there are
several ways of ' sinning against knowledge ' in a sense (77009)
which do not amount to Incontinence, though they look like
it at first sight and are readily confused with it. Such con-
fusion is easy because the judgment ' This man has done
what he (as an educated citizen) must know to be wrong ' is
true, if the necessary qualifications be added, and it is easy
to forget these qualifications. Let us look at the three
commonest forms of this pseudo-incontinence :
"(a) The man has the knowledge but does not use it.
[Any case of absent-mindedness will illustrate this. The
respectable citizen knows he ought not to carry off in his
pocket the pencil-case lent to him for a moment, but does so
unconsciously while thinking of something else.]
"(b) The man both has and is using the knowledge, i.e.,
he is consciously bearing in mind the moral law, ' Theft is
wrong,' but makes some innocent mistake in application.
He uses the 'major' but not the 'minor'. He remembers,
again, that such and such food is beneficial to man but does
not know that the particular food before him is of that kind.
Such misapplications of knowledge, or deficiencies in know-
ledge, are simply endless, and will easily account for many
actions which seem to us at times so astonishing.
" (c) The man may have the knowledge, as a permanent
mental possession, but not have it available at the moment
owing to physical causes. He may be half asleep, mad, or
drunk, and in this state may gravely give utterance to all
the wisdom of Empedocles without in the least ' knowing '
in the sense required for our present purpose.
" All these and other such cases lend themselves readily to
sophistic puzzles, and have served, and do still serve, to pro-
vide material for profitless discussion, but they are all irrele-
vant to the real question at issue. In regard to none of
them can it be truly said : ' The man has done something
which he knew at the time to be wrong'. But the statement
of them has cleared the ground. We know now exactly
what has to be explained and can proceed to the real root
(<uo-/cw?) of the matter.
" (3) The true nature of Incontinence may be best exhibited
by means of the ' Practical Syllogism '. This form of argu-
ment differs in no respect formally from any other Syllogism,
but it has for its matter something which is not of merely
abstract or scientific interest but which affects us practically
as living and sentient creatures. Hence from the first an
366 W. H. FAIKBROTHER :
element of 'Feeling' (afcr&prt?) necessarily (ri&r)) conies in,
and the ' minor ' premiss remains no mere logical particular
but asserts a concrete ' moving ' fact actually present. To
illustrate :
All sweet things are fitting to be tasted, 1
This particular thing here to my hand is sweet,
ergo, This is fitting to be tasted.
" Here we have a Syllogism the conclusion of which is in-
controvertible logically, but the subject-matter of which re-
mains no mere truth of abstract reasoning. It contains a
concrete physical element affecting the sentient organism,
which prompts ' movement ' in such a way that (assuming
nothing to come in as a hindrance) the reasoner necessarily
both recognises the truth of the conclusion and proceeds to
eat the sweetmeat.
" Bearing this characteristic of the practical syllogism in
mind let us see how it accounts for Incontinence. Suppose
(as is often the case in fact) there are in the mind not one,
but two, universal judgments both equally true and both,
as a rule, equally right to carry out in practical application,
but which, owing to some ' accidental ' cause, are for the
moment in opposition ; i.e., at this moment it is right to
follow out the one, wrong to act according to the other. As
universal judgments they are purely intellectual facts and
neither of them can ' move ' (each of them Xeyet ov xivet),
but, unfortunately for the poor weakling we are thinking of,
the one he ought not to act according to is exemplified in
some concrete sensible thing before him. This ' affects ' him,
not intellectually but physically, it raises a feeling of pleasure
and consequent desire, and the ' opposition ' or ' struggle '
becomes no longer the strife between two, as it were, distant
voices saying respectively ' Come here ' and ' Go there,' but
between one of those voices still appealing, ' Come here/
on the one side, and, on the other, a physical force which
literally ' drags ' him in the opposite direction. ^ /zei> ovv
Xeyei favyeiv TOVTO, ij 8' eTnOv^La aji. The problem, we
remember, is, ' What moves the limbs ? ' and Feeling (excited
by the definite object before him) can move the limbs,
whereas intellectual truths, not exemplified in this manner,
cannot. We have to remember too that what the incontinent
1 The substitution, a few lines infra, of the word f)8i> for the phrase
yfvfo-dcu Set shows that the word 8tl has here the ordinary simple mean-
ing it always bears in Aristotle, and has nothing to do with such a con-
ception as that of ' ought '.
ARISTOTLE'S THEORY OP INCONTINENCE. 367
man does is not in itself wrong, it is only unfitting at the
time. The argument
All sweet things are pleasant to take,
This thing here is sweet,
ergo, This is pleasant to take,
is valid in itself and conflicts with no moral truth whatso-
ever. It is only when, owing to other ' accidental ' con-
siderations, it becomes our duty for the moment to do
something else, that not the major premiss, but the appli-
cation of it, becomes ' opposed to right reason '."
Such, as it seems to me, is Aristotle's natural straight-
forward analysis of the phenomenon in question. The
incontinent man, like every one else, has varied social rela-
tions, each of which may be formulated into a ' rule ' a
' universal '. These moral rules are all true and, in general,
do not conflict with each other, but any two of them may,
Kara o-u/z/Se^/co?, do so at a given moment. For example
(to take the first illustration which occurs to me as I write)
I, as a ' married Don,' have social duties to both College and
wife. We may formulate these as " I ought to dine in Hall
regularly twice in the week" " I ought not to leave my
wife alone unnecessarily". Do these universals conflict?
Assuredly not, as a rule, but if, on one of my College nights,
it (in Aristotelian phrase) ' happens to the wife ' to be ill,
they ' accidentally ' do come into opposition. Such ' opposi-
tions ' are of commonest occurrence and it is needless to
multiply illustrations. Why does the incontinent man ' act
according to' the wrong universal? Because, said many
thinkers at that time, under the influence of desire he per-
forms an intellectual trick he forgets to apply a ' minor ' to
the right universal, he applies a minor to the wrong one, or
forgets the right one altogether, 1 etc., etc., etc. No ! says
Aristotle, he does none of these things because, poor fellow,
they are already done for him. The ' minor ' is already there,
it is thrust upon him, it ' moves ' him, he cannot escape
except by resisting it, and there is no ' moving ' power in
him to enable him to do this. In modern times the power-
lessness of ' good advice ' against temptation is proverbial.
Aristotle explains this simply the one ' speaks,' the other
1 Our leading modern commentators seem to me to fall into similar
mistakes. They talk of " applying a minor premiss to the right moral
principle " and so forth. Much subtle discussion, as to the exact
method of such intellectual sophistry, thus arises, which would be saved
if we remembered steadily that, to Aristotle, the crux of the matter is,
' What moves the limbs ? '
368 W. H. FAIRBROTHEE :
' drags '. The incontinent man is not to blame for this in
the first instance. He does not seek the temptation, he
constructs of his own initiative no misleading syllogism.
Left to himself he would go right, not wrong. He struggles
to go right as it is and rues his fall bitterly afterwards, for
he is a man of good intention, warm heart, and strong feeling.
We might, perhaps, represent Aristotle's doctrine more
clearly by the image of a pair of scales. Then, if our in-
continent man be any ordinary workman, we should have,
hanging at one end, the universal judgment, " Men, after
work, should look after their wives and families," at the
other, the judgment, "A pleasant supper with a mate on his
birthday is most enjoyable ". [These do not, as a rule, con-
flict, but, owing to some ' accidental ' domestic event, do so
on the evening in question.] So far the scales are evenly
balanced and the man, left to himself, would go home. But,
unluckily, to the second, and wrong, universal, is attached
a ' minor ' consisting not of a particular proposition but of
a concrete fact, viz. : the warm pressure of a friendly arm,
the sweet savour of a toothsome dish, the provoking glimpse
of a black bottle, supported by sugar and a lemon, beyond the
half-open cupboard door. These make up a serious addition
to this end of the scale they tickle his nostrils, affect his
muscles, they physically ' move ' him. The universal judg-
ment, at the other end, still ' speaks,' but the desire produced
by the concrete particular ' drags ' (\eyei . . . dyet) ; and
there can be no doubt which end of the scale will kick the
beam. There is a ' struggle ' doubtless its length and
severity depending upon the individual case, for men differ
in degree of incontinence, and temptations differ in strength
but that ' universal ' which is ' active ' (evepyel) in a
concrete fact is bound to win, unless something, equally
practically effective, can be attached to the universal at the
other end of the scale. If the latter happen to be the case
to begin with, no incontinence takes place at all. The man's
heart is in the right place, and the mere presence, on a Bank
Holiday, of ' loving wife or sweetheart kind ' ensures with
ease conduct which, without that physical presence, might
seem impossible.
With what Justice, then, can the incontinent man be held
morally blameworthy for his actions'? The forces which
act upon him are not of his own choosing ; they come upon
him from the outside, and, in default of that ' trained Habit '
which his softer nature prevents his possessing, he is bound
to move, or rather ' be moved,' along the line of least re-
sistance. Does not the explanation just given prove too
ARISTOTLE'S THEORY OF INCONTINENCE. 369
much ? It does away with that touching Socratic delusion
as to the impossibility of sinning against knowledge, but only
at the price of abolishing the ' sin ' itself.
For Aristotle's answer to this question we must look to the
De Anima, not to the Ethics. In the latter his task is to show
that, and how, Incontinence takes place, not to explain or
justify the moral reprobation we attach to it. This justi-
fication, obviously, can only be found in the presence of
some psychol 
