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The Open Court. 



Devoted to the Work of C 

Religion with S 




Vol. IV. 





The Open Court Publishing Company 




Adventures of Two Hymns: "Nearer my God to Thee," and "Lead, 

Kindly Light " Moncure D. Conway 2571 

slAtro-American. The, as he is. T. Thomas Fortune 2335 

Anthropophagy. A chapter on. Richard Andres 2710 

Agnes. The Mythical and the Mystical Shrine of. Moncure D. Conway. 2403 

Agnosticism versus Gnosticism. Paul R. Shipman 2116, 2141, 2189 

"Aleramo," Name and legend of. Giacomo Lignana 2563 

Allen's Millennium, Mr. Grant. John Gardiner 2659 

American Auguries. Felix L. Oswald 2125, 2182, 2264, 2291, 2333, 2392 

American Philosopher, An. Translated from the Revue de Belgigue. 

Madame Climence Royer 2413 

America's Experience of Low Tariffs. F.M.Holland 2573 

American Secular Union, Report of the National Congress of the. No. 167. 2592 

Animals, The Inebriety of Plants and. Carus Sterne 2419, 2459 

Anthony's Day, Saint. Moncure D. Conway 2319 

Bradlaugh, Charles. Moncure D. Conway . 2707 

Brain, The Double, and Double Personality. Th. Ribot 2700 

Ballot Reform. M. M. Trumbull 2703 

Bambino- Worship at Rome. Moncure D.Conway 2236 

Brandt, A Dramatic Poem by Ibsen. Ednah D. Cheney 2557, 2579 

Chemistry of Pleasure, The. J. C. F. Grumbine 2692 

Chivalry, Old. Gen. Trumbull's Reply to Mr. De Gissac 2469 

Cities, The Misgovernment of. M.M.Trumbull 2600 

Civilization. In defence of. F. M. Holland 2661 

Coal, The Problem of the Exhaustion of. L. Sohncke 2375, 2389 

Conduct, A Test of. F, M. Holland 2676 

Confession, A Journalist's. Boston, A. D., 2001. Dyer D. Lum 2201 

Conscience and Sense in the Lower Animals. Wheelbarrow 2410 

Co-operation and Competition. In Reply to Dyer D. Lum. By the Author 

of " Looking Forward." *. . 2259 

Cosmotheism. W. G. Todd 2154 

Current Topics and "Notes." M. M. Trumbull... 2248, 2275, 2302, 2316, 2344 

2372, 2415, 2427, 2441, 2483, 2553, 2577, No. 167,-2592, 2608, 2630, 2647, 2670 

Darwinism, The Ethical Import of. L. J. Vance 2282, 2310 

Decalogue in Politics, No. M. M. Trumbull 2656 

Discovery, Robert Koch's. Hugh Bernheim 2636 

Disorders, Emotional. Th. Ribot 2651 

Double Brain, Double Personality and. Th. Ribot 2700 

Eastern Notes. Mrs. Mary Gunning 2261 

Easter Homily, An. L.J.Vance 2180 

Edda, The Sources of the. A. H. Gunlogsen 2408 

Emotional Disorders. Th. Ribot 2651 

Ethics of Hypnotism, The. George M. Gould 2172 

Ethics, An Introduction to the Study of Philosophy and Social. W. M. 

Sailer 2216 

Ethical Import of Darwinism, The. L. J. Vance 2282, 2310 

Ethical Problem, Dr. Carus on the. Wm. M. Salter 2546 

Ethics, Leading Principles in. F.M.Holland 2627 

Ethical Problem, The. W. M. Salter 2622 

" Ethical Problem, The." A Criticism of. Friedrich Jodl 2653 

Ethnology, The Science of. Th. Achelis 2312 

Ethnological Research, The Aims of. Th. Achelis 2323 

Ethnology, Comparative. Th. ,\chelis 2336 

Ethical Import of Darwinism, The. L. J. Vance 2282, 2310 

Experiment, A Social. Madame E. Fleury Robinson 2474, 2503 

Evolution, Goethe on. Ernst Haeckel 211 1 

Fairies I Away with Ogres and. H. E. Rood 2471 

Fiction, The Scientific Method in. W. R. Thayer 2347 

Fiction, The Bases of. W. R. Thayer 2393 

Fiction, The Fictions of. Helen H. Gardener 2431. 2451 

■ Fire-Worship and Mythology in their Relation to Religion. The Gifford 

Lectures. F. Max MuUer. 2321 


Food, Periodicity and. E. P. Powell 2582 

Foreign Trade and Reciprocity. M. M. Trumbull 2679 

French Philosophical Works, Important. Lucien Arreat 2358 

Generalization. C. P. Cranch 2161 

Gnosticism versus Agnosticism. Paul R. Shipman 2116, 2141, 2189 

God Tenable ? Is the Idea of. A letter from Madame Clemence Royer to 

the Revue de Belgigue 2426 

' God, ' The Derivation of the Word. Calvin Thomas 2306 

Goethe on Evolution. Ernst Haeckel 2111 

Hallucinations and Alienation of Personality. Th. Ribot 2691 

Hell ? Is Nationalism a Sin Against. T. B. Wakeman 2293 

Hidden Self, The. Alice Bodington. . . . : 2604, 2621 

Hypnotism, The Ethics of. George M. Gould 2172 

Hymns, Adventures of Two. Moncure D. Conway 2571 

Ibsen, Brandt, A Dramatic Poem by. Ednah D. Cheney 2557, 2579 

Iceland, The Commonwealth of. A. H. Gunlogsen. 2328 

Iceland, The Historical Data of the Commonwealth of. A. H. Gunlogsen. 2338 
Idea of God, is it tenable? A letter from Madame Clemence Royer to 

the Revue de Belgique 2426 

Idealism, Positive. G. M. McCrie 2531 

Industrial and Reform Schools. M. M. Trumbull 2638 

Individuals, The Importance of. William James 2437 

Inebriate Plants and Animals. Carus Sterne 2419, 2459 

Islands, Wanted— An Assortment of. Joel Benton 2335 

Journalist's Confession A. Boston, A. D., 2001. Dyer D. Lum 2202 

Language, The Origin of. Ludwig Noir^ 2221, 2252, 2266 

Language, Critical Remarks upon Noire's Theory of. F. Max Miiller 2272 

Lavater, A Study of. Anna Olcott Commelin 2364 

Liberty, Is Nationalism a Sin Against. T. B. Wakemaii 2376 

Lockouts and Strikes. M. M. Trumbull 2611 

Logos Theory. The. Ludwig Noire 2194 

Logic of Verification, The. John Dewey 2225 

Manuscript, The Lost. The origin and import of the novel 2628 

" Man, Destiny of "—Some Comments on Mr. Fiske's. Persifor Frazer. . 2218 

Memory and Personality. Th. Ribot 2709 

Micro-Organisms, The Psychic Life of. C. Staniland Wake 2175 

Micro-Organisms, The Psychic Life of. George J. Romanes.- 2238 

Mixing up of Things, The. Mrs. Susan Channing 2669 

Millennium, Mr. Grant Allen's. John Gardiner 2659 

Misgovernment of Cities, The. M. M. Trumbull 2600 

Mohonk Conference and the Education of the Negroes, The. Mrs. Ed- 
nah D. Cheney 2370 

Money, The Uses and Abuses of. William Matthews No. 166. 2591 

Monocular Vision, The Third Dimension in. C. Staniland Wake 2685 

Monism, The— of The Open Court Critically Examined. E. Mont- 
gomery 2461, 2476 

"Monism Untenable ? Is." Concluding Remarks in the Discussion. I. 

E. Montgomery. II. Reply by the Editor 2511 

Must and the Ought, The. John Maddock 2584 

MuUer, F. Max, on Physical Religion. (Gifford Lectures.) ... .2200, 2208, 2249 
Mythical and the Mystical Shrine of Agnes, The. Moncure D. Conway. 2403 

Nationalism, Moderate. Michael Corcoran 2332 

Nationalism a Sin against Hell, Is ? T. B. Wakeman 2293 

Nationalism a Sin against Liberty, Is ? T. B. Wakeman 2376 

Nature and Nurture. Mrs. Susan Channing 2166 

^ Negro, Planetary Statesmanship and the. T. B. Wakeman 2433 

V Negroes, The Mohonk Conference and the Education of the. Mrs. Ed- 
nah D. Cheney 2370 

VNegroes to Africa, The Return of the. E. D. Cope 2331 

Neighbors, Our next. Felix L. Oswald 2417, 2490 

New Reforms. F. M. Holland 2603 

THE OPEN COURT— Index to Volume IV. 



Newman, Cardinal. MoDcure D. Conway 2529. SS^S 

Noire's Theory of Language, Critical Remarks upon. F. Max MuUer. . . 2272 

Notes, Eastern. Mrs. Mary Gunning 2261 

Notes. M. M. Trumbull. [See also Current Topics] 2248, 2275, 2302, 2316, 2344 
Nurture and Nature. Mrs. Susan Channing 2166 

Oaths. Geo. L. Hibbard 2712 

Ogres and Fairies, Away with. H. E. Rood 2471 

Origin of Language, The. Ludwig Noire 2221, 2252, 2266 

Origin of Reason, The. T. Bailey Saunders. . .2405, 2421, 2445, 2487, 2515, 2534 
Open Court, The, The Monism of, 'Critically Examined. E. Mont- 
gomery 2461, 2476 

Official Perquisites. M. M. Trumbull 2114 

Our Next Neighbors. Felix L. Oswald 2417, 2490 

Ought and the Must, The. John Maddock 2584 

Personality, Hallucinations and Alienations of. Th. Ribot 2691 

Personality, Double, and Double Brain. Th. Ribot 2700 

Personality, The Nature of, Illustrated by the Lives of Twins. Th. Ribot 2644 

Personality, The Experimental Method Applied to. Th. Ribot 2663, 2667 

Personality, Memory and. Th. Ribot 2709 

Periodicity and Food. E. P. Powell 2582 

Perquisites, Official. M. M. Trumbull 2114 

Philosophy and Social Ethics, Introduction to the Study of. W. M. Salter 2216 

Philosophical Works, Important French. Lucian Arreat 2358 

Philosophy of the Vedanta. A. H. Gunlogsen 2t3i 

Philosopher, An American. From the Revue de Belgigue by Madame 

Clemence Royer 2413 

Philosophical Study, Helps for. W. M. Salter 2218 

Plants and Animals, Inebriate. Carus Sterne 2419, 2459 

Planetary Statesmanship and the Negro. T. B. Wakeman 2433 

Plasmogeny. Daniel Bright 2615 

Pleasure, The Chemistry of. J. C. F. Grumbine 2692 

Politics, No Decalogue in. M. M. Trumbull 2656 

Positive Idealism. G. M. McCrie 2531 

"Problem, The Ethical" Dr. Carus on. Wm. M. Salter 2546 

Problem, The Ethical. W. M. Salter 2622 

"Problem, The Ethical " A Criticism of. Friedrich Jodl 2653 

Psychic Life of Micro-Organisms. C. Staniland Wake 2175 

Psychic Life of Micro-Organisms. George J. Romanes 2238 

Race Question, The. C. Staniland Wake 2353 

Realism, The Fallacies of. W. R. Thayer 2361 

Reason, The Origin of. T. Baily Saunders 2405, 2421, 2445, 2487, 2515, 2534 

Reciprocity, Foreign Trade and. M. M. Trumbull 2679 

Reforms, New. F.M.Holland 2603 

Reform and Industrial Schools. M. M. Trumbull 2638 

Religion, Max Miiller on Physical. (Gifford Lectures) 2200, 2208, 2219 

Religion Natural. (Gifford Lectures.) F. Max MOller 2350 

Religion, The Future of. J. H. Brown 2127, 2157 

Religion and Science. Edward C. Hegeler 2473 

Religion and Science— Their Incongruity. R. Lewins 2677 

Republics, South American. Felix L. Oswald No. 167, 2587 

Revolution, Do we Want a ? Morrison I. Swift No. 166, 2589 

Revolution, Why we Want a. In Reply to Dr. Paul Carus. Morrison I. 

Swift 26t2 

Rings of Saturn, The. M. Wilhelm Meyer 2595 

Roman Note-Book, From my. Moncure D. Conway 2138 

Roman Journal, A. Moncure D. Conway 2207 

Samaritan on Change, The. Moncure D. Conway 2683 

Sanskrit, The Study of. F. Max Muller 2153 

Saturn, The Rings of. M. Wilhelm Meyer 2595 

Schools, Industrial and Reform, M. M. Trumbull 2638 

Science, Religion and. Edward C. Hegeler 2473 

Science and Religion— Their Incongruity. R. Lewins 2677 

Scientific Method in Fiction, The. W. R. Thayer 2347 

Self, The Hidden. Alice Bodington 2604, 2621 

Secular Union, Report of the National Congress of the American. No. 

167, 2592 

Sense and Conscience in the Lower Animals. Wheelbarrow 2410 

Sheepish Tax, A. F. M. Holland 2502 

Signs of the Times, The. R. W. Hume 2519 

Spirit and Soul. Wilhelm Wundt No. 166, 2587 

Social Experiment, A. Madame E. Fleury Robinson 2474, 2503 

South American Republics. Felix L. Oswald No. 167, 2587 

Strikes and Lockouts. M. M. Trumbull 2611 

St. Anthony's Day. Moncure D. Conway 2319 

Supernatural, The Natural Origin of the. F. Max Miiller 2278 

Tariff. Woman and the. F.M.Holland 2383 

Tariffs, America's Experience of Low. F.M.Holland 2573 

Tax, A Sheepish. F. M. Holland 2502 

Things, The Mixing Up of. Mrs. Susan Channing 2669 

Times, The Signs of the. R.W.Hume 2519 

Trade, Foreign and Reciprocity. M. M. Trumbull 2679 

Twins, The Nature ot Personality Illustrated by the Lives of. Th. Ribot 2644 

Vedanta, The Philosophy of the. A. H. Gunlogsen 2131 

Veda, Discoveries of the by the Chinese, the Persians, Christian Mis- 
sionaries and Scholars. F. Max Miiller 2307 

Verification, The Logic of. John Dewey 2225 

Vision, The Third Dimension in Monocular. C. Staniland Wake 2685 

■Wanted — An Assortment of Islands. Joel Benton 2335 

What Then ? The Problem of the Exhaustion ot Coal. L. Sohncke. 2375, 2389 
" Wheelbarrow." A Review of. From the Newcastle Weekly Chronicle. 

George Julian Harney 2631 

Woman and the Tariff. F. M. Holland 2383 

Wordsworth's Interpretations of Nature. Alvin F. Sanborn 2447 

Word "God," The Derivation of the. Calvin Thomas 2306 


Agnosticism, Positive Science versus Gnosti- 
cism and. In answer to the criticism of 

Mr. Paul R. Shipman 2120, 2145 

Agnosticism, The Questions of 2686 

Agnosticism of Modesty, The 2148 

Agnosticism, Positivism versus. In Reply to 

Mr. Paul R. Shipman 2189 

Anarchists, A Few Words About the 2538 

Basis of Ethics, and the Leading Principle in 

Ethics 2574 

Beam, The Mote and the. A Letter to the Bos- 
ton Investigator 2245 

Brain-Activity, Localisation of 2355, 2365, 2379 

Brain, Comparative Physiology of the 2550 

Brain, The Thalamic Region of the 2269 

Cerebellum and Pons 2255 

Consciousness, The Seat of 2523 

Conscience, The Growth of 2598 

Communism of Soul-Life, The 2398 

Cortex and its Relations, The 2326 

Crowds, The Suggestibility of 2197 

Death a Finality, Is ? 2185 

Design in Nature 2619 

Destroy, To Fulfil Not to 2235 

Do we Want a Revolution ? In Reply to Mor- 
rison I. Swift No. 166, 2590 

Dogmatism, A Reviewer's View of. In Answer 

to Criticisms of " Fundamental Problems." 2371 

Enter into Nirvana. 2635 

Ethics and the Struggle for Life 2137 

Ethics of the New Positivism. The. In Reply 
to the Article " Un Philosophe Amen- 
cain " by C16mence Royer, in the April 

Number of the Revue de Belgigue 2414 

Ethical Problem. Mr. Salter on the 2549 

Ethics a Law of Nature. . . 2440 

Ethical Problem, The. In Reply to Mr. Salter 2564 

Ethics. Science and No. 167, 2590 

Ethical Problem, The. In Answer to Mr. Salter 2624 


Ethics and the Ethical Movement, The Basis 

of 2247 

Ethics and the Leading Principles in Ethics, 

The Basis of 2574 

Ethical Problem, The— Concluding Remarks 

in the Discussion with Mr. Salter 2625 

Ethics, Sexual 2675 

Evil for evil, Render not 2123 

Evolution, Kant on. In Criticism of Mr. Her- 
bert Spencer's Presentation of Kantism. . . 2492 

Fairy Tales and Their Importance 2537 

Feeling and Motion 2424, 2435 

Festival of Resurrection, The , 2179 

Feeling as a Physiological Process 2506 

Finality, Is Death a ? 2185 

Free Love, Monogamy and 2699 

Free-will and Compulsion. Editorial Note on 

a Letter by T. G. Conant. 2332 

Forward, Looking 2151 

Form, Soul-Life and the Preservation of 2285 

Fulfil Not to Destroy, To . . .- 2235 

Gnosticism and Agnosticism, Positive Science 
versus. In Answer to the Criticism of Mr. 

Paul R. Shipman 2120, 2145 

God 2305 

Growth of Conscience, The 2598 

Hemispheric Region, The 2295 

Hunger after Righteousness, The 2165 

Hypnotism, The Dangers of 2160 

Hypnotism, The Significance of 2129 

Jodl, In Answer to Professor. (In Criticism of 

"The Ethical Problem.") 2654 

Joliet, A Visit to. A Few Words About the 

Anarchists 2538 

Joy, The Tidings of 2643 

Kant on Evolution. In Criticism of Herbert 

Spencer's Presentation of Kantism 2492 

Law of Nature, Ethics a , 2440 


Law, The Authority of the Moral 2606 

Liberty and Nationalism 2383 

Life. Ethics and the Struggle for 2137 

Limitations of Our Senses, The 2119 

Localisation of Brain-Activity 2355, 2365, 2379 

Looking Forward 2151 

Lost Manuscript, The. The origin and import 

of the novel 2628 

Living the Truth No. 167, 2589 

Materialism, The Reaction Against 2169 

Medulla Oblongata, The Spinal Cord and 2239 

Modesty, The Agnosticism of 2148 

Mote and the Beam, The. A letter to the Bos- 
ton investigator 2245 

Monism Untenable, Is ? In Reply to the Criti- 
cism of Dr. E. Montgomery 2465, 2479 

Monism and Solipsism. Remarks to W. J. 

Gill's Letter 2610 

Monogamy and Free Love 2699 

Motion, Feeling and 2424, 2435 

Moral Law, The Authority of the 2606 

Must, The Ought and the 2584 

Nature, Ethics a Law of 2440 

Nationalism, Liberty and 2383 

Nature, Design in 2619 

Nervous System, The, of Worms, Radiates, and 

Articulates 2212 

Nervous System of the Vertebrates, The 2228 

Nirvana, Enter into. The Religion of a Fore- 
runner of Christ 2635 

Ontology and Positivism 2143 

Ought and the Must, The 2584 

Physiological Process, Feeling as A 2506 

Physiology of the Brain, Comparative 2550 

Positivism, The Ethics of the New. In Reply 
to the Article Un Philosophe Americain, by 
Clemence Royer in the April number of 

the Revue de Belgiqtte 2414 

Pons, Cerebellum and 2255. 

THE OPEN COURT— Index to Volume IV. 

EDITORIALS— Continued. 


Positive Science versus Gnosticism and Ag- 
nosticism. In Answer to the Criticism of 

Mr. Paul R. Shipman 2120, 2145 

Positivism, Ontology and 2143 

Positivism versus Agnosticism. In Reply to 

Paul R. Shipman 2iSg 

Psychology, The Old and the New 2412 

Psychological Problem and Religion, The 2341 

Preservation of Form, Soul-Life and the 2285 

Pure Reason, The Superscientific and. In Re- 
ply to T/ie N^atiofi's Criticism of "Funda- 
mental Problems." 2509 

Real and Reality. Repiinted from Free f/toug^/it 2316 
Reason, The Superscientific and Pure. In Re- 
ply to T/ie Nafion's Criiicism of " Funda- 
mental Problems." 2509 

Religion, The Psychological Problem and 2341 

Religious Problem, The 2263 

Religion, Science and 2678 

Render not Evil for Evil 2123 

Revelation 2277 

Revolution ? Do we Want a. In Reply to Mor- 
rison I. Swift No. 166, 2590 

Resurrection, The Festival of 2179 

Righteousness, The Hunger After 2165 

Science and Ethics No. 167. 2590 

Science and Religion 2678 

Seat of Consciousness, The 2523 

Sexual Ethics 2675 

Sense, The Spacial 2697 

Senses, The Limitations of Our 2119 

Spacial Sense, The 2697 

Spinal Cord and Medulla Oblongata, The 2239 

Soul-Life, The Communism of 2398 

Struggle for Life, Ethics and the 2137 

Soul-Life and the Preservation of Form 2285 


Suggestibility of Crowds, The 2197 

Superscientific and Pure Reason, The. Reply 
to The J^atioH's Criticism o! "Fundamen- 
tal Problems." 2509 

Tales, Fairy, and their Importance 2537 

Truth, Living the No. 167 2589 

Thalamic Region of the Brain. The 2269 

Truth. The Unity of 2501 

Tidings of Joy, The 264.3 

To Fulfil not to Destroy 2235 

Unity of Truth, The 2501 

Vertebrates, The Nervous System of the 222S 

Wine, New — in Old Bottles 2193 

Worms, The Nervous System of 2212 



•'African in America, The. E. D. Cope 2399 

^.African in America, The. C. Staniland Wake 2454 

v" African in America. The." J. A. Cook 2512 

Anarchy in the Twenty-Fourth Century, The Danger of. By * * * 2245 

Anthony St., Mr. Moncure Conway and. E. Berdoe 2601 

Anarchism, Science and. C. L. James 2568 

Aryans, The Cradle of the. Isaac Taylor 2203 

Beam, The Mote and the. A Letter to the Boston Investigator 2245 

Brain Theorem of Sentient Being, The. R. Lewins 2485 

Chivalry, Old. F. de Gissac ,. 2455 

Chivalry, A Last Word about. F. de Gissac 2539 

Colored Citizens, Our. Mrs. Mary Gunning 2134 

Conway, Mr. Moncure. and St. Anthony, E. Berdoe 2601 

Consciousness, Geo. Henry Lewes on. J. Harrison Ellis 2689 

Conscience. The Growth of. Frank Cantelo 2634 

Correct Premises, But Wrong Conclusions. In Reply to Mr. Wakeman, 
Mr. L. D. A., and Mr. Orchardson. By the author of " Looking For- 
ward. " 2299 

Determinism, Fatalism and. John Maddock 2539, 2633 

Entheism, or Immanence of God, Etc. R. Lewins 2176 

Ethical Problem, The. Raphael J. Moses, Jr 2287 

Evolution of a Life, The. Henry Truro Bray 2456 

Experience, A Word of. Silas D. Wurtz 2416 

Fairies, Away with Ogres and 1 C. Staniland Wake 2497 

France, A Word for. F. de Gissac 2274 

Fatalism and Determinism. John Maddock 2539, 2633 

Free- Will and Compulsion. [With Editorial Note.] T. G. Conant 2332 

" Fundamental Problems." A Criticism of. John Chapellsmith 2640 

" God, The Idea of," A Paralogism. R. Lewins 2401 

God and Immortality. W. Ingham 2526 

God, The Impersonal. Christopher P. Cranch 2680 

Heads or Tails. W. F. Durand 2149 

Idealism, Positive. George M. McCrie 2665 

Immortality, Problem of. Francis C. Russell 2672 

Individualism and Pessimism. C. L. James 2385 

Journalist's Confession, A. Boston, 2001. Dr. Leete's Answer to Julian 

West 2243 

Lewins's Philosophy, The Basis of Dr. R. Lewins 2232 

Looking Upward. Rejoinder to Competition and Co-operation. By L. 

D. A 2299 


Monism, The Scientific Basis of. Franklin Smith - 2569 

Monism and Solipsism. W. J. Gill. With Editorial Remarks 2609 

Mote and the Beam, The. A Letter to the Boston Investigator 2245 

Nationalism, An Anarchist on. C. L. James 2299 

vNegroes, The Banishment of the. F. M. Holland 2133 

V. Negro. The Indo-European and the. Archibald H. Grimlie 2149 

Negro's Appreciation of the Suffrage, The. Mary Gunning 2373 

\"Negro Question, The. Phillip S. Roy 2455 

u Negro Question, The. Jennie Chandler 2567 

Neo-Phrenology— An Explanation. Robert Lewins 2162 

Probabilities and the Multiplication of Denominate Quantities. M.S. 

Franklin 2134 

Production Limited by Competition. C. Orchardson 2258 

Psychological Statistics, Assistance Wanted for. Wra. James 2288 

Real and Reality. Reprinted from Freethought. Editor 2316 

Reply to Mr. Bridge, In. F. M. Holland 2713 

Responsibility, No, In a Religious Sense. John Maddock 2373 

Revolution, Signs of Social. Morrison I. Swift 2527 

Revolution, Do we want a ? George A. Schilling No. 166, 2593 

Science and Zoophily. Moncure D. Conway 2616, 2681 

Science and Zoophily. Edward Berdoe 2672 

Social System a Failure, Is our ? John Ransom Bridge 2712 

Sentient Being, The Brain Theorem of. R. Lewins 2485 

Signs of Social Revolution. Morrison I. Swift 2527 

Social Factors in the Struggle for Existence. C. Orchardson 2384 

Social Revolution, Signs of. Morrison I. Swift 2527 

Soul Form. H. D. Garrison 2601 

Solipsism and Monism. W. J. Gill. With Editorial Remarks 2610 

Upward, Looking. L. D. A 2257 

Villain, The Survival of the. C. Orchardson. 2298 

"Why" of the Moral Ought, The. Dyer D. Lum 2288 

Will and Responsibility. Freedom of. [With Editorial Note.] John Mad- 
dock 2274 

Wine in Old Bottles, New. A Letter from England. V. W. 2316 

Woman, The Proper Work of. Mary Brown 2135 

Zoophily, Science and. Moncure D. Conway 2616 

Zoophily, Science and. Edward Berdoe 2672 

Zoophily and Science. Reply to Dr. E. Berdoe. Moncure D. Conway. . 2681 


Animals, The Convention of the. A Fable 

By * * * 2695 

At "The Blowing Cave": Kennebunkport. 

Maine. Mary Morgan (Gowan Lea) 2704 

At the Organ. Mary Morgan (Gowan Leaj 2586 

Fertilisation. J. H. Temple 2443 

Happiness. Count Leo Tolstoi 2645 

In Touch. Wilbur Larremore 2673 

Knowable, The. J. A. Harris 2304 


Munera Pulveris. Jefferson B. Fletcher 2626 

On Reading the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. 

J. H. Brown 2343 

Sea and Sky. J. H. Temple 2386 

Science and Philosophy. Constance C. W. 

Naden 2232 

Souvenir du ler Mars, 1815. Louis Belrose, Jr 2204 

Life. The Bread of. To C. C. W. N. A. H. 

Chandler 2344 


To the Memory of George W. De Long. Louis 

Belrose, Jr 2148 

To the Poet-Laureate. Louis Belrose, Jr 2286 

Pessimist's Vision, The. Constance C. W. 

Naden 2190 

Undiscerned Perfection. Constance C. W. 2177 

Ut sementem faceris, ita metes. Voltairine de 

Cleyre 2427 

THE OPEN COURT— Index to Volume IV. 



Abbot, Francis EHingwood. The Way Out of Agnosticism 2233 

Acolyte. Hermetic Philosophy 2698 

Afro-American League 2570 

Agnosco. Free thinking and Free Inquiry 2697 

Altgeld, John P. Live Questions, Including our Penal Machinery and Its 

Victims 2527 

American Journal of Psychology 2234 

American Secular Union, Fourteenth Annual Congress of the 2514 

American Quarterly, A New— 77^^ Monist 2541 

Anthology, An Ethical 2234 

Aristotelian Society, The Proceedings of the 2136, 2303 

Atkinson, Edward. The Aladdin Oven 2540 

Balzac's Philosophical Novels 2289 

Barnett, M. J., The Five Redeemers 2698 

Bentivegni, Adolf. Die Hypnose und ihre civilrechtliche Bedeutung 2402 

Bergen, Jr., J. Y.. and Fanny D. Bergen. A Primer of Darwinism and Or- 
ganic Evolution 2555 

Besant, Annie. The Law of Population 2220 

Bissell, Mary T. Household Hygiene 2641 

Blake, James Vila. A Grateful Spirit and Other Sermons 2626 

Bodington, Alice. Studies in Evolution and Biology 2578 

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The majorit)' of us, I am sure, appreciate Goethe 
as a poet and a man only ; there are but few who have 
an idea of the great value of his work done in the nat- 
ural sciences, and of the gigantic progress with which 
he overtook his own age, so that most naturalists of 
that time were unable to keep abreast with him. 

His scientific performances were not recognized by 
his contemporaries, and Goethe painfully felt the 
slight. In several passages of his scientific writings 
he complains bitterly of the narrow-mindedness of 
professional naturalists, who did not know how to ap- 
preciate his labors and who, roaming among the 
trees, search in vain after the forest, not being able 
to rise above the confused mass of single details in 
order to recognize the general laws of nature. Goethe's 
reproach is justified : " The philosopher will soon dis- 
cover that there are but few observers that rise to a 
standpoint from which they can survey so many im- 
portantly related objects." 

Yet it is true at the same time that this want of 
recognition was caused through the errors into which 
Goethe was led by his theory of colors. This theory 
of colors, which he himself designates as the favorite 
production of his leisure, however much that is beauti- 
ful it may contain, is a complete failure with regard to 
its foundations. The exact mathematical method by 
means of which alone it is possible, in inorganic sci- 
ences, but above all in physics, to raise a structure 
step by step on a thoroughly firm basis, was altogether 
repugnant to Goethe. In rejecting it he allowed him- 
self not only to be very unjust towards the most emi- 
nent physicists, but to be led into errors which have 
greatly injured the fame of his other valuable works. 

It is quite different in the organic sciences, in 
which we are but rarely able to proceed, from the be- 
ginning, upon a firm mathematical basis ; we are 
rather compelled, by the infinitely difficult and intri- 
cate nature of the problem, at the first to form induc- 
tions — that is, we are obliged to endeavor to estab- 
lish general laws by numerous individual observations, 
which are not quite complete. A thoughtful compar- 
ison of kindred groups of phenomena, or the method 

♦Translated from the NatUrlicke Schopfungsgeschichte Chapter IV, Eight 
Edition, jSSg. 

of combination, is here the most important instru- 
ment for inquiry, and this method was applied by 
Goethe in his scientific investigation with as much 
success as with conscious knowledge of its import- 

The most celebrated among Goethe's writings con- 
cerning organic nature is his Metamorphosis of Plants, 
which appeared in 1790, a work which distinctly shows 
a grasp of the fundamental idea of the theory of evo- 
lution. Goethe attempted to point out a single fun- 
damental organ, by the infinitely varied development 
and metamorphosis of which the whole of the end- 
less variety of forms in the world of plants might be 
conceived to have arisen ; this fundamental organ he 
found in the leaf. 

If at that time the microscope had been generally 
employed, if Goethe had examined the structure of 
organisms by the means of the microscope, he would 
have gone still further, and would have seen that the 
leaf is itself a compound of individual parts of- a lower 
order, that is, of cells. He would then not have de- 
clared that the leaf, but that the cell is the real funda- 
mental organ by the multiplication, transformation, 
and combination (synthesis) of which, in the first 
place, the leaf is formed ; and that, in the next place, 
by transformation, variation, and combination of 
leaves there arise all the varied beauties in form and 
color which we admire in the green parts, as well as 
in the organs of propagation, or the flowers of plants. 
Goethe here showed that in order to comprehend the 
whole of the phenomenon, we must in the first place 
institute comparisons and, secondly, search for a sim- 
ple type, a simple original form, of which all other 
forms are only so many variations. 

Something similar to that which he had here done 
with regard to the metamorphosis of plants he then 
did for the Vertebrate animals, in his celebrated ver- 
tebral theory of the skull. Goethe was the first to 
show, independently of Oken, who almost simultane- 
ously arrived at the same thought, that the skull of 
man and of all Vertebrate animals, in particular mam- 
mals, is nothing more than a bony case, formed of the 
same bones, — that is, of the foremost vertebrae, — out 
of which the spine also is composed. The vertebrae 
of the skull were originally like those of the spine, 
bony rings lying behind each other, but in the skull 


they are now peculiarly changed and specialized. 
Although this idea has been greatly modified by the 
ingenious discoveries of Gegenbaur, yet in Goethe's 
day it was one of the greatest advances in compara- 
tive anatomy, and was not only one of the first 
advances towards the understanding of the structure 
of Vertebrate animals, but at the same time explained 
many individual phenomena. When two parts of a 
body, such as the skull and spine, which appear at 
first sight so different, were proved to be par^s origi- 
nally the same, developed out of one and the same 
foundation, one of the most difficult problems was 
solved. Here again we meet the notion of a single 
type — the conception of a single principle, which be- 
comes infinitely varied in the different species, and in 
the parts of individual species. 

But Goethe did not merely endeavor to search 
for such far-reaching laws, he also occupied himself 
most actively for a long time with numerous spe- 
cial researches, particularly in comparative anatomy. 
Among these, none is perhaps more interesting than 
his discovery of the mid jawbone in man. As this is, 
in several respects, of importance to the theory of ev- 
olution, I shall briefly explain it. 

There exist in all mammals two little bones in the 
upper jaw, which meet in the centre of the face, be- 
low the nose, and which lie in the middle of the upper 
jawbone proper. These two bones, which hold the four 
upper cutting teeth, are recognized without difficulty in 
most mammals ; in man, however, they were at that 
time unknown, and celebrated comparative anatomists 
even laid great stress upon this want of a mid jaw- 
bone, as they considered it to constitute the principal 
difference between man and ape. The want of a mid 
jawbone was, curiously enough, looked upon as the 
most human of all human characteristics. 

Goethe could not accept the notion that man who, 
bodily considered, in all other respects was clearly a 
mammal of higher development, should lack this mid 
jawbone. By the general law of induction as to the 
mid jawbone he arrived at the special deductive con- 
clusion that it must exist in man also, and Goethe did 
not rest satisfied until, after comparing a great num- 
ber of human skulls, he really found the mid jawbone. 
In some individuals it is preserved throughout a whole 
lifetime, but usually at an early age it coalesces with 
the neighboring upper jawbone, and is therefore only 
to be found as an independent bone in very youthful 
skulls. In human embryos it can now easily be 
pointed out. In man, the mid jawbone actually ex- 
ists, and to Goethe the honor is due of having first 
firmly established this fact, so important in many re- 
spects. This he did while opposed by the celebrated 
anatomist, Peter Camper, one of the highest profes- 
sional authorities. 

The way by which Goethe succeeded in estab- 
lishing this fact is especially interesting ; it is the way 
by which we continually advance in biological science, 
namely, by way of induction and deduction. Induc- 
tion is the inference of a general law from the obser- 
vation of numerous individual cases ; deduction, on the 
other hand, is an inference from this general law ap- 
plied to a single case which has not yet been actuall}^ 
observed. From the collected empirical knowledge of 
those days, the inductive conclusion was arrived at 
that all mammals had mid jawbones. Goethe drew 
from this the deductive conclusion, that man, whose 
organization was in all other respects not essentially 
different from mammals, must also possess this mid 
jawbone; and on close examination it was actually 
found. The deductive conclusion was confirmed and 
verified by experience. 

Even these few remarks may serve to show the 
great value which we must ascribe to Goethe's biolog- 
ical researches. Unfortunately most of his labors de- 
voted to this subject are so hidden in his collected 
works, and the most important observations and re- 
marks so scattered in his numerous various treatises 
— devoted to other subjects — that it is difficult to find 
them out. It also sometimes happens that an excel- 
lent, truly scientific remark is so much interwoven 
with a mass of useless speculation, that the latter 
greatly detract from the former. 

Nothing is perhaps more characteristic of the ex- 
traordinary interest which Goethe took in the investi- 
gation of organic nature than the vivid interest with 
which, even in his last years, he followed the dispute 
which broke out in France between Cuvier and 
Geoffroy de St. Hilaire. Goethe, in a special treatise 
which was only finished a few days before his death, 
in March, 1832, has given an interesting account of 
this remarkable dispute and its general importance, 
as well as an excellent description of the two great 
opponents. This treatise bears the title Principes 
de Philosophie Zoologique par M. Geoffroy de Saint 
Hilaire ; it is Goethe's last work, and forms the con- 
clusion in the edition of his collected works. 

The dispute itself was, in several respects, of the 
highest interest. It turned essentially upon the jus- 
tification of the theory of evolution. It was carried 
on, moreover, in the bosom of the French Academj', 
by both opponents, with a personal vehemence almost 
unheard of in the dignified sessions of that learned 
body. This proved that both naturalists were fight- 
ing for their most sacred and deepest convictions. 
The first conflict began on the 22nd of February, 1830, 
and was followed by several others ; the fiercest combat 
took place on the 19th of July, 1830. Geoffroy, as the 
chief of the French nature-philosophers, represented 
the theory of natural development and the monistic 



conception of nature. He maintained the mutability 
of organic species, the common descent of the indi- 
vidual species from common primary forms, and the 
unity of their organization — or the unity of the plan 
of structure, as it was then called. Cuvier was the 
most decided opponent of these views. He endeav- 
ored to .show that the nature-philosopher had no right 
to arrive at such comprehensive conclusions on the 
basis of the empirical knowledge then possessed, and 
that the unity of organization — or plan of structure of 
organisms — as maintained by them, did not exist. 
He represented the teleological (dualistic) conception 
of nature, and maintained that "the immutability of 
species was a necessary condition of the existence of 
a scientific history of nature." 

Cuvier had the great advantage over his opponent, 
that he was able to bring towards the proof of his as- 
sertions things obvious to the eye ; these, however, 
were only individual facts taken out of their connec- 
tion with others. Geoffroy was not able to prove the 
higher and general connection of individual phenom- 
ena which he maintained, by equall}' tangible details. 
Hence Cuvier, in the eyes of the majority, gained the 
victory, and decided the defeat of the nature-philoso- 
phy and the supremacy of the strictly empiric ten- 
dency for the next thirty years. 

Goethe of course supported Geoffroy's views. How 
deeply interested he was, even in his Sistyear, in this 
great contest is proved by the following anecdote re- 
lated by Soret : — 

"Monday, Aug. and, 1830. — The news of the out- 
break of the July revolution arrived in Weimar to- 
day, and caused great excitement. In the course of 
the afternoon I went to Goethe. ' Well ? ' he ex- 
claimed as I entered, 'what do you think of this great 
event ? The volcano has burst forth, all is in flames, 
and there are no more negotiations behind closed 
doors.' 'A dreadful affair,' I answered; ' but what 
else could be expected under the circumstances, and 
with such a ministrj', except that it would end in the 
expulsion of the present royal family ! ' 'We do not 
seem to understand each other, my dear friend,' re- 
plied Goethe. ' I am not speaking of those people at 
all ; I am interested in something very different, I 
mean the dispute between Cuvier and Geoffroy de 
Saint Hilaire, which has broken out in the Academy, 
and which is of such great importance to science.' 
This remark of Goethe's came upon me so unexpect- 
edly, that I did not know what to say, and my 
thoughts for some minutes seemed to have come to a 
complete standstill. 'The affair is of the utmost im- 
portance,' he continued, 'and you cannot form any 
idea of what I felt on receiving the news of the meet- 
ing on the igth. In Geoffroy de Saint Hilaire we 
have now a mighty ally for a long time to come. But 

I also see how great the sympathy of the French sci- 
entific world must be in this affair, for, in spite of the 
terrible political excitement, the meeting on the 19th 
was attended by a full house. The best of it is, how- 
ever, that the synthetic treatment of nature, intro- 
duced into France by Geoffroy, can now no longer be 
stopped. This matter has now become public through 
the discussions in the Academy, carried on in the 
presence of a large audience ; it can no longer be re- 
ferred to secret committees, or be settled or sup- 
pressed behind closed doors.' " 

In my work on "The General Morphology of Or- 
ganisms " I have placed as headings to the different 
books and chapters a selection of the numerous inter- 
esting and important sentences in which Goethe 
clearly expresses his view of organic nature and its 
constant development. 1 will here quote a passage 
from the poem entitled, "The Metamorphosis of Ani- 
mals " (1819) : 

" Members develop themselves according to laws universal ; 
Even the form that is strange preserveth in secret the image 
of its original type. 'Tis the animal's shape that conditions 
Habits of life ; and the habits again will potently model 
Every different form. There is order in growth, that is steady 
Yet it will change in accordance with causes externally acting." * 

Here, clearly enough, the contrast is indicated be- 
tween the two different forces that form organisms. 
They are opposed to one another, and by their inter- 
action determine the shape of the organism. On the 
one hand, a common inner original type, firmly main- 
taining itself, constitutes the foundation of the most 
different forms; on the other hand, the externally 
active influence of surroundings and habits of life, 
which influence the original type and transform it. 

The same contrast is still more definitely pointed 
out in the following passage: "An inner original 
community forms the foundation of all organization ; 
the variety of forms, on the other hand, arises from 
the necessary relations to the outer world, and we 
may therefore justly assume an original difference of 
conditions, together with an uninterruptedly pro- 
gressive transformation, in order to be able to com- 
prehend the constancy as well as the variations of the 
phenomena of form." 

The " original type " which constitutes the foun- 
dation of every organic form "as the inner original 
community" is the inner constructive force, which re- 
ceives the original direction of form-production — that 
is, the tendency to give rise to a particular form — and 
is propagated by Inheritance. The "uninterruptedly 
progressive transformation," on the other hand, which 
"springs from the necessary relations to the outer 

* Alle Glieder bilden sich aus nach ew'gen Gesetzen, 
Und die seltenste Form bewahrt im Geheimniss das Urbild. 
Also bestimmt die Gestalt die Lebensweise des Thieres, 
Und die Weise zu leben, sie wirkt aut alle Gestalten 
Machtig zuruck. So zeiget sich fest die geordnete Bildung, 
Welche zum Wechsel sich neigt durch ausserlich wirkende Wesen. 

21 14 


world," acting as an external formative force, pro- 
duces, by Adaptation to the surrounding conditions of 
life, the "infinite variety of forms." 

The internal formative tendency of Inheritance, 
which retains the unity of the original type, is called 
by Goethe in another passage the centripetal force of 
the organism, or its tendency to specification. In 
contrast with this he calls the external formative ten- 
dency of Adaptation, which produces the variety of 
organic forms, the centrifugal force of organisms, or 
their tendency to variation. The passage in which he 
clearly indicates the " equilibrium " of these two ex- 
tremely important organic formative tendencies, runs 
as follows : ' ' The idea of metamorphosis resembles the 
vis ceiitrifuga, and would lose itself in the infinite, if 
a counterpoise were not added to it : I mean the ten- 
'dency to specification, the strong power to preserve 
what once has come into being, a vis ce'ntripeta 
which in its deepest foundation cannot be affected by 
anything external." 

Metamorphosis, according to Goethe, consists not 
merely, as the word is now generally understood, in 
the changes of form which the organic individual ex- 
periences during its individual development, but in a 
wider sense, in the transformation of organic forms in 
general. His idea of metamorphosis is almost synony- 
mous with the theory of evolution. This is clear, 
among other things, from the following passage : 
" The triumph of physiological metamorphosis mani- 
fests itself where the whole separates and transforms 
itself into families, the families into genera, the gen- 
era into species, and then again into other varieties 
down to the individual. This operation of nature 
goes on ad infinitum ; she cannot rest inactive, but 
neither can she keep and preserve all that she has 
produced. From seeds there are always developed 
varying plants, exhibiting the relations of their parts 
to one another in an altered manner." 

Goethe had, in truth, discovered the two great 
mechanical forces of nature, which are the active 
causes of organic formations, his two organic forma- 
tive tendencies — on the one hand the conservative, 
centripetal, and internal formative tendency of Inher- 
itance or specification ; and on the other hand the pro- 
gressive, centrifugal, and external formative tendency 
of Adaptation, or metamorphosis. This profound 
biological intuition could not but lead him naturally 
to the fundamental idea of the Doctrine of Filiation, 
that is, to the conception that the organic species re- 
sembling one another in form are actually related by 
blood, and that they are descended from a common 
original type. In regard to the most important of all 
animal groups, namely that of Vertebrate animals, 
Goethe expresses this doctrine in the following pas- 
sage (1796) : "Thus much then we have gained, that 

we may assert without hesitation that all the more 
perfect organic natures, such as fishes, amphibious 
animals, birds, mammals, and man at the head of the 
last, were all formed of one original type, which only 
varies more or less in parts which are none the less 
permanent, and still daily changes and modifies its 
form by propagation." 

This sentence is of interest in more than one way. 
The theory that all " the more perfect organic na- 
tures," that is all Vertebrate animals, are descended 
from one common prototype, that they have arisen 
from it by propagation (Inheritance) and transforma- 
tion (Adaptation), may be distinctly inferred. But it 
is especially interesting to observe that Goethe admits 
no exceptional position for man, but rather expressly 
includes him in the tribe of the other Vertebrate ani- 
mals. The most important special inference of the 
Doctrine of Filiation, that man is descended from 
other Vertebrate animals, may here be recognized in 
the germ. 

This exceedingly important fundamental idea is 
expressed by Goethe still more clearly in another pas- 
sage (1807), in the following words : " If we con- 
sider plants and animals in their most imperfect con- 
dition, they can scarcely be distinguished. But this 
much we can say, that the creatures which by degrees 
emerge as plants and animals out of a common phase, 
where they are barely distinguishable, arrive at per- 
fection in two opposite directions ; so that the plant 
in the end reaches its highest glory in the tree, which 
is immovable and stiff, the animal in man, who pos- 
sesses the greatest elasticity and freedom." This re- 
markable passage not only indicates most explicitly 
the genealogical relationship between the vegetable 
and animal kingdoms, but contains the germ of the 
monophyletic hypothesis of descent, the importance 
of which it would be foreign to our purpose here to 




Here is a comical bit of news just come by tele- 
graph from Paris to the American press : " Buffalo 
Bill feels rather chagrined at President Carnot's refusal 
to accept a handsome lamp that our famous American 
had made in this country for the French President at 
a cost of one thousand dollars. President Carnot refused 
on the ground that he accepts presents from no one." 

The surprise of Buffalo Bill was greater than the 
chagrin. He was dazed and bewildered when he 
"struck the trail " of a great republic whose president 
never condescends to take presents from anybody. In 
some other great republics which he had visited it was 
the habit of the presidents to set the pattern for official 
mendicity by accepting the miscellaneous patronage 
of gifts from everybody. 



The mistake of Buffalo Bill was easy to make. He 
had noticed the European custom of subsidizing 
lackeys, guides, waiters, railway servants, and such 
people, so he innocently thought that the practice pre- 
vailed through all the social and official grades from 
the " garcons " at the caf^ up to the President of the 
Republic. In Europe, anybody whose duty it is to 
perform services of the humbler kind expects to receive 
a gratuity, and this is called a "tip." It operates as 
a vexatious tax, especially upon travelers, who are com- 
pelled to submit to it by force of some unwritten law. 
The habit of taking tips lowers the self-respect of the 
recipients, and gives an abject and shabby appearance 
to the national spirit where the habit prevails. 

The artless child of the Western plains need not 
be "chagrined" because the President of the French 
Republic refused to accept a tip worth a thousand dol- 
lars. Let Buffalo Bill remember Mark Twain's dis- 
appointment and surprise at the politeness of the 
Emperor of Russia, who showed a party of American 
pilgrims all over his palace at St. Petersburg, and 
"made no charge." Besides, there are other republics, 
and other presidents in the world ; let him try them. 
Perhaps amongst them all he may find one at least, 
who will gladly accept his gift. 

Americans who travel in Europe are properly in- 
dignant at the extortion practiced on them under the 
name of tips ; but a similar practice prevalent in their 
own country hardly provokes their censure. In 
Europe, the recipients of tips are the lowly and the 
poor, who have at least the excuse of poverty for their 
action ; while in this country, those recipients are the 
influential and the rich, who have no excuse at all. 
Nearly all our magistrates and public officials of high 
rank are in the habit of taking tips. 

A very good story is told of a witty American, who 
having traveled for several months in Europe, during 
all which time he had been the victim of the tip tariff, 
was about to return home. Going on board the steamer 
at Liverpool he stopped upon the gang plank and thus 
addressed the crowd standing on the shore : "If there 
is any man in this antiquated monarchy to whom I 
have not given ' tuppence, ' let him step up and get it. " 

The irony in that is cutting, and well deserved ; but 
what if some French or English tourist departing from 
our shores should answer with retaliatory sarcasm ! 
Suppose that standing on the gang plank of a steamer 
at New York he should address the Americans on shore 
and say: " If there is in this young and buoyant re- 
public any president, vice-president, cabinet minister, 
senator, judge, governor, mayor, or alderman, who 
does not accept tips from railroad companies, and 
other corporations, let him step up, that I may embrace 
him before I go." In that case the sardonic laugh 
would be on the other side. 

Recently a Chicago newspaper compiled a strange 
catechism, and appointed a father confessor to examine 
all the judges as to their proficiency in that catechism. 
The result was a most humiliating show of moral igno 
ranee. It was a revelation of the fact that nearly all 
the judges of the courts are in the habit of taking tips 
from railroad companies in the shape of passes, euphe- 
mistically called "courtesies." Now a courtesy to a 
judge, if it have any money value, is a bribe to the 
full value of the "courtesy." It may be a paltry tip, 
worth perhaps not more than fifty or a hundred dol- 
lars a year, but to that amount it is a bribe. The 
tender of a pass to a judge is to the value of it an 
offer of payment in advance for judicial courtesies, 
and the acceptance of the pass is in the nature of a due 
bill payable to the railroad by the judge in " courtesies" 
of equal value. 

It is flippantly said by the defenders of judicial 
tips, that no cases can be found in the reports to show 
that the judges are corruptly influenced by railroad 
passes or by courtesies of similar character. This 
may be true in literal statement, and it is also true 
that no specific act of judicial corruption was proved 
against Lord Bacon at his trial. The receipt of " cour- 
tesies " was proved, and he confessed that he had ac- 
cepted presents from persons who had causes in his 
court, but he denied that the courtesies had affected 
his decisions, or corrupted him. He was met by the 
obvious reply that he was corrupted the very moment 
he received the gifts. Judgment was given against him, 
and the greatest man of his time was disgraced forever. 

No man in office, and especially in a judicial office, 
can accept presents and be free. While some of his 
benefactors may offer gifts from disinterested motives, 
others will not, and the recipient cannot distinguish 
the sordid from the unselfish giver. The presump- 
tion is always against the motives of a man who offers 
gifts to a stranger, or to any one to whom he is under 
no obligations. 

In Europe a tip is usually begged for in an abject, 
humble way as a gratuity rather than a payment, but 
in this country it is accepted as the ignominious per- 
quisite of rank, official station, influence, or power ; 
but it is a tip though it be received by senator, judge, 
governor, or even by the president. 

The statement that there is no judicial partiality 
shown by the courts to the railroads that give passes 
to the judges, is not universally true. Obviously the 
"reports" will not show the sinister inspiration of the 
decisions, yet suits against railroads are frequently 
thwarted and delayed by the dilatory methods familiar 
to the courts of law. It has become a proverb that a 
railroad victim will do better to settle with the corpo- 
ration on its own terms, than to prosecute a suit 
against it. 

21 l6 


A railroad pass is not properly a "courtes}'. " It 
is money. What shoemaker having causes in court 
would presume to give the judge an order for shoes? 
What grocer, plaintiff or defendant in a suit, would 
venture to give the judge a free pass for his yearly 
sugar and tea? It is true that a railroad pass transfers 
no corporeal thing, but it amounts to the company's 
check for the price of a ticket to any place on its road. 
If the fare from Chicago to San Francisco be one 
hundred dollars, a pass from one city to the other is a 
check for that amount. 

Here we are met by the well known defiance, What 
are you going to do about it? Nothing ! The vice of 
judicial tip-taking cannot be cured by legislation. 
The remedy against it lies in moral forces. It can be 
restrained up to the level of local public sentiment but 
no farther than that. The moral sense of the people 
must be educated up to the perception and under- 
standing of its corrupting influence, before anything 
effectual can be done against it, and this tuition is 



In No. 94 of The Open Court as some of its 
readers may remember, the Editor did me the honor 
to publish an article of mine, entitled " Of Christianity, 
and Agnosticism," and in the same number did me 
the further honor of replying to the article. As his 
reply, marked by characteristic ability, opens up his 
case against agnosticism, I venture to improve the oc- 
casion in a rejoinder. 

"Every real existence," he declares, " lies within 
the possible grasp of cognition." Lying within the 
grasp of cognition implies not mere apprehension, but 
comprehension. Nothing, then, is unknowable : every- 
thing is knowable. This may be monism, as the 
Editor styles it, but I should call it gnosticism, to 
which at any rate it has a better title than either the 
Hellenic or the Oriental system that bore the name 
in the dawn of our era. I shall take the liberty of 
calling it, with due respect, the New Gnosticism. 
And certainly it could not have an abler or a more ac- 
complished expositor than the Editor of The Open 
Court. Let us compare this doctrine with agnosti- 

There are, it may be well to mention, in the first 
place, two kinds of knowledge — knowledge of the fact, 
and knowledge of the fact and its causes. The former 
knowledge, technically, is called historical, the latter 
philosophical. The knowable is that which is capa- 
ble of being known in its causes — the comprehensible. 
The unknowable is that which not merely is known as 
a fact only, but is incapable of being known other- 
wise — known as existing, but not knowable in its na- 

ture — the incomprehensible. * The recognition of 
something which admits of this knowledge only is ag- 
nosticism. The claim that every real existence lies 
within the limits of the knowable is gnosticism. Ag- 
nosticism denies that whatever is known historically 
may be known philosophically. Gnosticism means, if 
it means anything, that everything may be known 
philosophically that is known at all. It it does not 
mean this, it concedes the truth of agnosticism, and 
means nothing. With this preliminary explanation, 
we will proceed to try the issue between the two doc- 

* * 

I hold in my hand a pencil. In cognizing it, 
what does cognition grasp ? Ultimately, the sensa- 
tions it excites, with their relations: nothing else. But, 
confessedly, sensation is one thing, and the real exist- 
ence which produces it is a different thing. I say 
confessedly, for the Editor, in one of those luminous 
and delightful essays that make' up his book enti- 
tled Fundamental Problems says: "Sensation and 
the phenomena f of the outer world are different. 
Sensations are not the real copies or images proper of 
things. The nervous system is not actually a mir- 
ror to reflect phenomena just as they are. Yet 
we may justly compare it to a mirror. For after all, 
certain features of the phenomena are preserved. 
They are consequently not so entirely different as is 
maintained. A certain form of phenomenon cor- 
responds to a certain form of sensation." Granting 
this, with the understanding that by phenomenon he 
means the real existence which produces sensation, it 
is none the less true that sensation and the real exist- 
ence producing it are not the same thing, but different 
things; for correspondence is not identity. The cor- 
respondence, he confesses, is not so close as that be- 
tween a copy and the original — not so close as that 
between an object and its reflection in a mirror ; it is 
really the correspondence between a sign and the 
thing signified — between .v and the unknown quantity 
it represents. Be this as it may, however, the two 
are confessedly "different." In grasping sensation, 
therefore, cognition does not grasp the real existence 
producing it, which, accordingly, lies beyond the 
grasp of cognition. In cognizing the pencil, cognition 
grasps a form of matter ; but not the matter of the 
form. This, cognition touches but cannot grasp. 

The contents of mind, to generalize this view, are 
resolvable, in the last analysis, into the sensation of 
resistance, as the contents of the outer world are re- 
solvable, in like manner, into that which causes this 

* So far as I am aware, no agnostic has ever used the word itnfcnowablc in 
any other sense than this. 

t Phenomena he here confounds, under stress of theory, with the external 
thing which Rives rise to sensation. Phenomena are subjective, not objective, 
and result from sensation, instead of producing it. 


21 17 

sensation. Here we have subject and object reduced 
to their lowest terms : — on the one hand, the sensa- 
tion of resistance, as the primordial element of intelli- 
gence; on the other hand, the -external something 
causing it, as the fundamental reality of nature. But 
cognition reaches no further than the sensation. " The 
primary condition of knowledge," the Editor admits, 
"is sensation." How, then, can the fundamental re- 
ality, which lies beyond sensation, lie within the grasp 
of cognition ? 

The existence of this external something is implied 
in the sensation which the something excites, the two 
being absolutely inseparable in consciousness, and 
hence of equal validity ; but the nature of the some- 
thing whose existence is thus guaranteed lies beyond 
sensation, and consequently beyond cognition : it is 
what constitutes the acknowledged difference between 
sensation and the thing producing it. If sensation not 
only limits knowledge, as the Editor confesses, but 
differs from the thing which produces it, as he also 
confesses, the difference, be it infinite or infinitesimal, 
is necessarily unknowable ; knowledge, historical or 
philosophical, cannot transcend its limits. 

Whatever is knowable is knowable in conscious 
ness only; but the external thing does not appear in 
consciousness as it exists out of consciousness : it fol- 
lows of necessity that the external thing, as it exists 
out of consciousness, is at once real and unknowable — 
known only as a fact (historically), not knowable in its 
causes (philosophically). And this is to say that every 
real existence, instead of lying within the grasp of 
cognition, stretches beyond it, disappearing behind 
the veil of consciousness ; for, though consciousness 
reveals all we know, it conceals more than it reveals, 
like its emblem light, which, while unveiling the ter- 
restrial landscape, veils the starry hosts. Night lifts 
the veil of light, but what shall lift the veil of con- 

" The subjective aspect of sensation, which we call 
feeling, and the objective aspect of sensation, which is 
a physiological phenomenon, and as such a process of 
motion," he maj' repeat, as he avers in the essay to 
which I have referred, "are actually one and the same 
thing. The}' are two aspects only of one and the same 
indivisible fact." In this case, the two are alike phe- 
nomenal, and neither can be a real copy of the exter- 
nal thing which gives rise to both ; consequently, the 
argument remains undisturbed. In point of fact, the 
combination of molecular motions, whatever that par- 
ticular combination may be, from which sensation im- 
mediately rises, is not an aspect of sensation, but the 
proximate cause of it — the last link in the chain of causa- 
tion which connects the external thing with conscious- 
ness; but a cause and its effect are not "one and the 
same thing. " Besides, an aspect is the appearance of a 

thing from a certain point of view, the different aspects 
of the thing being its different appearances from dif- 
ferent points; but points of view do not affect the con- 
stitution of a thing. An indivisible fact which is mo- 
tion without feeling from one point of view, and feel- 
ing without motion* from another, is no fact at all, 
but simply a logical illusion. An indivisible fact di- 
visible into motion and feeling is the most arrant of 

Here I might safely close my rejoinder, if I were 
addressing the Editor alone, for a trained logician, 
like a trained soldier, knows when the battle is lost 
or won, and rules himself by the knowledge; but in 
addressing the Presiding Judge of The Open Court, it 
should be remembered, one addresses the jury im- 
panelled by that tribunal, and a jury, to be quite 
satisfied, needs in general to see the outworks as well 
as the citadel of a case lying in ruins before them. On 
this account chiefly it may be worth while to examine 
the case against agnosticism a little in detail, picking 
up the details here and there, as one may find them 
scattered throughout the Editor's extremely able 
though somewhat desultory discussions. 

" Existence and its manifestation are not two 
different things," he says; "both are one." He adds, 
as if by way of paraphrase : "Existence and knowabil- 
ity are identical," and, again, "Existence, reality, and 
cognizability are synonymous terms." If existence 
and the manifestation of existence are one, what be- 
comes of his admission that sensation and the outer 
existence which occasions it are "different" — that 
"sensations are not the real copies or images proper 
of things"? If existence, and its manifestation through 
sensation, are "different," they cannot be "one" — if 
the manifestation is not so much as a real copy of the 
thing, much less is it the thing itself. 

The manifestation of existence, let it be noted, is 
subjective — within consciousness ; the existence man- 
ifested is objective — beyond consciousness ; and the 
former is so different from the latter as not to be a real 
copy of it ; yet the two, asserts the philosopher who 
acknowledges all this, are one. If so, the same thing 
at the same time not only is both in consciousness and 
out of consciousness, but differs from its own individ- 
uality in such wise that it is not a decent counterfeit of 

This is not all. The manifestation of existence, in 
kind and degree, depends on the kind and degree of 
the organization in which it takes place, the higher 
the organization is the greater being the manifestation 
or susceptibility of manifestation. Inasmuch, how- 
ever, as man stands at the head of organized beings, 
having consequently the greatest susceptibility of man- 
ifestation, it is a logical necessity that in the case at 

* The Editor e.tpressly refers to " eeling " as " being no motion." 



least of every class of beings inferior to him the man- 
ifestation of existence should fall short of existence, 
and, moreover, that in each of these classes the excess 
of existence should be unknowable to the members of 
the class, the excess standing out of relation to the 
constitution of their powers, and of course beyond 
their grasp. Existence necessarily exceeds its manifes- 
tation or capability of manifestation, therefore, in every 
grade of being from the moner up to man ; whose pre- 
rogative it is to feel the excess of existence which even 
he cannot grasp, his higher consciousness catching, 
first of all in the mounting scale of life, a faint yet in- 
dubitable glimpse of the Overlife, as the loftiest peak 
of earth is the first to glow in the light of morning. 

Nor is this all. According to the law of the con- 
servation of energy, existence is indestructible ; but, if 
existence and its manifestation are one, either exist- 
ence is destructible or its manifestation is indestruc- 
tible, consequences both of which are absurd, but of 
which one or the other is inevitable. Take, for ex- 
ample, if any is needed, the familiar case of allotro- 
pism. When the existence manifested in the form of a 
diamond passes into the form of charcoal, what be- 
comes of the diamond? It must survive or perish. If 
it survives, the existence of which it is a manifestation 
must be in two different states at the same time : if it 
perishes, as it does, it is not one with the existence of 
which it was a manifestation, for that is imperishable. 

No : the manifestation of existence, and the exist- 
ence manifested, are two things ; and it is impossible 
to make out of them only one. The identity of exist- 
ence and its manifestation implies either a manifesta- 
tion that does not manifest or an existence that does 
not exist. The manifestation of existence is a transi- 
tory form symbolized in consciousness* ; existence is 
the indestructible force which constitutes the subject 
of the form: forms may come and forms may go, but 
force abides forever. Only forms are knowable ; that 
of which they are forms, lying outside of consciousness 
though against it, is unknowable. 

"Existence and knowability are identical," we are 
told. Knowability by whom — man or moner ? If 
moner, the assumption, as we have seen, is prepos- 
terously false. If man, what is the warrant for assum- 
ing that his knowing power, more than that of the 
moner or of any intermediate class of organisms, is 
capable of exhausting existence ? Warrant there is 
none ; but there is warrant, complete and authentic, 
for asserting the reality of something that goes beyond 
the utmost reach of his power — something that although 

* Manifestation supposes not only sometbing manifested but somebody to 
whom it is manifested. Existence out of relation with sentiency is not man- 
ifested. " A pebble on the surface of the moon " exists, and is manifestable, 
but not manifested. To say the pebble manifests itself to the moon, and the 
moon to the pebble, is an impropriety of speech, putting it mildly. If man- 
ifestation means no more than contact, philosophy, I submit, has no use for 
the word. But in no conceivable meaning is it identical with existence. 

ever in view he can never seize — something that, when 
his striving faculties sink at length in utter exhaustion, 
passes freshly by. And this warrant is found, in its 
most authoritative form, in this very strain and col- 
lapse of his faculties ; which, by showing that the 
negation of the assertion is absolutely inconceiv- 
able, establishes the certainty of the assertion. The 
warrant, indeed, is given in the primordial element of 
intelligence, and renewed in every act of conscious- 
ness, from birth to death. It is recorded legibly in the 
abstract of our cognitions — wrought in living letters in 
the web of mind. In short, the reality of the unknow- 
able, is not only certified by reason, but attested by 
consciousness : its voucher is signed by common sense 
and countersigned by philosophic sense. Not by any 
means, observe, that it is a determinate object of 
thought, but is cogitated, on the contrary, to use the 
words of Kant, " merely as an unknown something " ; 
it is strictly not an object, but rather a fleeting revela- 
tion of what to us is "the void and formless infinite " 
from which objects are "won" — the whiff and wind, 
if one may so express it, of the transcendent reality 
that passes us in every moment of our conscious life. 
Of all the contents of mind it is the vaguest and most 
subtile, and yet the simplest, for in the crucible of 
analysis all things else dissolve into it. If the unknow- 
able is not real nothing is real. 

* * 

"If we take away from a thing," the Editor says, 
"all the properties that we are accustomed to com- 
prehend by a word, there is left the meaningless word, 
a mere sound, the bare string with which the bundle 
was tied together." What has befallen the thing? Is 
not that left ? A mental act can hardly wipe out a ma- 
terial thing. Or does the thing consist in the sensa- 
tions it excites, being constituted by its own conse- 
quences, which it produces before it exists? So much 
indeed would be required by the identity of existence 
and its manifestation. The properties of a thing, as 
we know them, are nothing more than the sensations 
it occasions in us, and, do or imagine what we may in 
regard to these, the thing itself remains intact — exter- 
nal to us, independent of us, unknowable bj' us; for, 
as sensations are different from the thing which occa- 
sions them, and the properties of a thing are the sen- 
sations which it occasions, the properties of a thing 
are necessarily different from the thing, the difference, 
whatever the existence that measures it, lying beyond 
sensation, and thus beyond the bounds of knowledge. 
Abstracting the properties of the thing is merely con- 
templating separately the transient effects of a transi- 
tory form of an indestructible force ; abstraction cannot 
do away with one jot or tittle of this force. The thing 
in its inexhaustible reality, conjure as we please what 
we call its properties, is left untouched. Mentally 


21 19 

withdrawing its properties no more exhausts it than 
shutting one's eyes extinguishes the sun. 

"Truth," says the Editor, "being a relation be- 
tween subject and object, appears to be relative in its 
nature." This mild and somewhat halting statement 
of the relativity of knowledge answers happily to a 
conception of the relative from which the absolute is 
supposed to be excluded. "Absolute existence (in 
fact everything absolute) is impossible," he says. 
Then how do we arrive at a conception of the relative ? 
A conception of the relative exclusive of the absolute 
is contrary to reason ; for the relative suggests the ab- 
solute as its correlative, apart from which the relative 
itself is inconceivable, the consciousness of a relation 
implying a consciousness of both terms of the relation. 
A conception of the relative without reference to the 
absolute is as impossible as a conception of the cause 
without reference to the effect, or of the father without 
reference to the child. If we take away from the rel- 
ative its relation to the absolute the relative itself turns 
absolute. Hence, a consciousness of the absolute, in- 
definite yet positive, is necessitated by the conditions 
of the thinkable. So far from being impossible, as the 
Editor thinks, it is necessary. For that matter, what 
is the All, on the conception of which his philosophy 
is founded, but the absolute ? The All is conditioned 
by nothing, for it contains everything ; and the un- 
conditioned is the absolute. If the All is not absolute, 
it is relative ; but, if relative, it is not self-dependent, 
but depends on something outside of itself, in which 
case it is not the All, but a part of the All. His posi- 
tion logically engages him to shift the centre of things, 
and keep on shifting it, indefinitely. Archimedes, with 
a natural pride in his demonstration of the principle of 
the lever, boasted that if he had a place to stand on 
he could move the earth wherever he pleased ; but the 
Editor of The Open Court undertakes, standing on 
nothing, to pry the universe from its poise, and to- 
gether with it "spin forever down the ringing grooves 
of change." Even so he could not escape the abso- 
lute, which at every pause would confront him anew. 
He could more easily walk away from his shadow than 
think away from the absolute. 

" The question itself, as to the cause of existence 
in general," he says, "is not admissible, for the law 
of causation is applicable to all phenomena of nature, 
but not to the existence of nature, which must be ac- 
cepted as a fact." True : yet what is this but saying 
that " existence in general " is larger than the forms of 
the knowable — that it transcends them — that it stands 
beyond them, and independently of them — and by 
consequence is unknowable? Why is the question 
not admissible ? Because, as he owns, it is one of 
those questions "which by their very nature admit of 
no answer." Why does it admit of no answer? Be- 

cause the subject of it is unknowable. No other suf- 
ficient reason can be assigned. If the subject were 
knowable, the question self-evidently would admit of 
an answer. If the subject were nothing, the allega- 
tion of that fact would itself be an all-sufficient 
answer. But he avows that the question admits of no 
answer. "The question itself is not admissible," he 
says. And he is right. The something not ourselves 
that weaves ourselves is unknowable ; and to ask its 
cause is to assume that the unknowable is knowable. 
The question cannot be put without defying a funda- 
mental law of thought ; the fortnulation of it is treason 
to the majesty of reason. No question could be less 
admissible. But what subject could be less know- 
able ? And what remains of his case against agnosti- 
cism ? He has surrendered it. 


One of the strongest arguments in favor of agnosti- 
cism is based upon the same principle as that upon 
which positivism stands. We recognize that the ulti- 
mate data of experience and the basis of all knowl- 
edge are sensations. ' Sensations naturally depend 
upon the character of the senses ; and the senses of 
man — indeed those of every possible living being — are 
adapted according to circumstances to special sensa- 
tions only. "Now it is evident," the agnostic de- 
clares, "that our knowledge is limited to those natu- 
ral processes which can affect our senses ; yet it 
is precluded from all the rest. That which cannot af- 
fect our senses will forever remain unknown to us. 
It is unknowable. " 

The fallacy of this syllogism is apparent and can 
be pointed out by the mere statement of innumerable 
discoveries concerning such natural processes as do 
not affect our senses. The truth is that man's knowl- 
edge is not at all limited to his own direct sensations. 
By the power of his mind through reflection he can, 
and he constantly does, transcend that narrow sphere, 
and he gathers new material for his experience through 
indirect observations. 

The senses are affected indirectly, if a thing is per- 
ceived by its effects upon other things. We lack for 
instance an organ to perceive the chemical rays of 
light. They have no perceptible effect upon our eye. 
Nevertheless we can indirectly be affected by them 
when we observe their effects upon the photographer's 
sensitive plate. Thus we bring a process that does 
not affect our senses within their range through 
indirect observation. 

There are innumerable examples of a similar kind, 
and the assertion that a certain thing, this or that nat- 
ural phenomenon, is unknowable has by the progress 
of science again and again been refuted. 



Let me cite one instance only from the later his- 
tory of science. Auguste Comte who, under the 
inappropriate name of positivism, some time before 
the invention of the word agnosticism, propounded 
and defended the agnostic idea of the Unknowable, 
declared that certain things must necessarily remain 
forever hidden from the knowledge of man, and he 
selected as an illustration that we could never know the 
chemical composition of the stars. Comte's assertion 
appeared very plausible ; the limitation of our knowl- 
edge in that line seemed to be beyond the shadow of 
a doubt. For there is no possibility of a chemist's 
ever getting a piece of, or taking a trip to, Sirius or to 
any other one of the stars. And yet such is the 
interconnection of all processes in the universe, that 
means were discovered to state most positively of 
what materials the stars consist. It was a straiige 
irony of fate that while Comte was publishing his as- 
sertion of the agnostic view, two German scholars 
were analyzing the rays of the sun and the stars by a 
new method called spectral analysis, which in ex- 
actitude rather surpasses the cruder method of an 
analysis in the crucible. It is true that our chemists 
cannot journey to the stars, but the light of the stars 
travels to us and gives us information 'concerning the 
substances of which they consist. 

There is nothing in the world which does not pro- 
duce some effect upon something. Imagine that a 
certain something existed that did not in any way 
whatever make its existence manifest — could it be 
said to exist? I think not. The existence of a thing 
and its manifestations are identical. The existence of 
a thing, be it ever so insignificant, is real only by 
manifesting its existence through certain effects. The 
quality of producing effects is its realit)'. 

We may fairly suppose that there are many things 
in the world which have never as yet either directly 
or indirectly affected us in a manner to make their 
reality known to us. Yet all things in the world be- 
ing interconnected, there is always the possibility that 
their effects can somehow be brought to bear upon 
our faculty of observation. Whatever exists is in so 
far as it is real, knowable. There are certain things 
which from a certain standpoint are unknowable, as 
objects may from a certain point of view become in- 
visible. A tree behind a house may be invisible to 
to me but it is not invisible in itself. The Copernican 
conception of the solar system may be incomprehensi- 
ble to a savage, yet it is not incomprehensible per se. 
Incomprehensibility is not a quality of things, not a 
peculiar feature of all or of certain natural processes, 
it does not attach to, it is not a quality of, the reality 
of objects. 

If things or natural processes appear to us as in- 
comprehensible, the fault is not theirs but ours. If 

the whole world is incomprehensible to us, it is no 
proof that the world possesses the quality of being un- 
knowable, but because we lack the quality of compre- 
hending it; we ourselves in that case, are wanting in 
strength to formulate a unitary conception of all the 
natural phenomena which come within the reach 
of our observation. 

Sensations are the effects of surrounding objects 
upon a sentient being. Sensations are the ultimate 
basis of all knowledge ; they are the data of expe- 

The duty of the scientist is to describe the facts of 
natural processes in such a way as to show their reg- 
ularity ; and the duty of the philosopher is to arrange 
all knowledge into one harmonious sj^stem which shall 
be a unitary conception of the world. Man must 
have a conception of the world not only because it be- 
hooves him as a thinking being to have such a con- 
ception, and because the demands of his mind have to 
be satisfied, but also because he is in want of a foun- 
dation for his conduct in life. Brutes follow their im- 
pulses, but man is — or ought to be — a moral being ; 
he can regulate his actions according to certain max- 
ims ; and the maxims of individuals as well as of 
nations depend upon, they are derived from, their re- 
spective conceptions of the world. The various phi- 
losophies of all times and peoples find a practical ex- 
pression in their ethics. 



In a criticism of Fundamental Probleins Mr. Paul R. Shipman 
presents the case of Agnosticism versus Positive Monism which 
he calls Gnosticism, and submits it to the jury of The Open 
Court. Often it seems as if a misconception in the usage of terms 
on the one side or the other were the only obstacle to a concilia- 
tion of both views. But then again such a radical difference ap- 
pears in the principles from which the disputants se%'erally start, 
that all mutual understanding at once vanishes. 

Mr. Shipman 's versatility and logical acumen are well known ; 
and the readers of Tlie Open Court, whether agnostic monists, or 
positive monists, (for Mr. Shipman professes to be a Monist also,) 
will watch with interest the vigorous onslaugh s he makes on our 
position. We shall present the case of the defense in the following 
separate articles : 


By Gnosticism (according to the etymology and the traditional 
use of the word) I understand a philosophy that actually is, or at 
least pretends to be, in possession of the truth. The gnostic 
knows or pretends to know all. The position of The Open Court is 
greatly different from that of gnosticism; itclaims, not that weknow 
all things, but that things and their relations can be known ; nat- 
ural processes can be investigated and the truth concerning them 
ascertained. To call this theory Gnosticism is an honor which I 
would rather decline. 

Agnosticism maintains that things (or at least certain things) 
cannot be known, not merely because the present state of human 



knowledge is insufficient, but because things in themselves are 

Positive monism stands in opposition to both views. It pro- 
tests against the self-assurance of the gnostic who proclaims with 
regard to all problems his confident invenhnus, and it protests 
against the diffidence of the agnostic whose constant refrain is the 
desperate ipwriiliimiis. That principle is indeed true which Pro- 
fessor Huxley declares to be "the essence of science whether 
ancient or modern," and which he strangely identifies with agnos- 
ticism, namely, " that a man shall not say he knows or believes that 
which he has no scientific grounds for professing to know or be- 
lieve" ; and taking my standpoint upon that very principle I reject 
the tenels of agnosticism. There are no scientific grounds, norare 
there in fact any philosophical grounds, for believing in such a 
thing as the Unknowable. 


Cognition is defined in Fiiidaineiilal Pi-ohliniis as the systemati- 
zation of experience, and the data of experience are sensations. 
For instance, suppose I see for the first time in my lite a camel : 
then I am conscious of an unwonted sensation of sight. Let it 
happen that after some time I see the camel again : then I recognize 
the animal. The comparison made between the two sensations, 
their identity being perceived, constitutes an act of cognition. An 
instance like this is the simplest case imaginable. Bat all more 
complicated cases of cognition are at bottom the same process. 
When I recognize the circumstances under which the motion of 
the moon around the earth is the same thing as the fall of a stone, 
so that I am able to formulate the identity of these and all similar 
cases in a statement called a natural law, I have accomplished an 
act of cognition. 

Cognition, therefore, does not go beyond sensations, and it 
need not ; it simply arranges sensations until they are all systema- 
tized into one great system. 

Mr. Shipman calls "causes" what I should call reasons or 
natural laws. By cause I understand that change which produces 
another change. Causes, as I use the word cause, are facts no less 
than are the effects of causes ; yet a statement of the reasons, i.e., 
an explanation why these causes have such or such effects, is a 
formulation of natural laws This Mr. Shipman calls philosoph- 
ical knowledge. 

Mr. Shipman says. " the recognition of something which ad- 
mits of historical knowledge only," (i. e. , a knowledge of facts 
which admits of no philosophical knowledge,) "is agnosticism." 
Very well. But all facts admit of systematization, which is cog- 
nition ; and for this reason we reject agnosticism. The ideal of 
science is a unitary conception of all the data of experience as 
one harmonious system — which would be the realization of mo- 


A sensation and the thing that causes the sensation are dif- 
ferent. The sensation is an effect caused by the thing upon a liv- 
ing sentient being. The sensation reproduces in its way the form 
of the thing ; and certain feelings correspond to certain qualities of 
the thing ; for instance, the sensation of redness to certain vibra- 
tions of ether-waves. Thus, a sensation, or a sum of sensations, 
represents the thing in the brain of a sentient being. 

Mr. Shipman makes too much of my " confession " that things 
and sensations are different. It stands to reason that all feelings 
and all ideas are different from things. In elucidation, I here 
reprint a few additional sentences of my " confession," which are 
not quoted by Mr. Shipman. It is a passage written in answer to 
M. Binet : 

" A certain form of a phenomenon corresponds to a certain 
form of sensation. The phenomena being different among them- 

selves produce sensations that in their turn also are different among 
themselves. And the difference suffices to distinguish them. 

"The electric current in the wire of a telephone is entirely 
different from the air- waves of sound. Nevertheless the form of 
air-waves produced by spoken words can be translated, as it were, 
into the electric current and from the electric current back again 
into air-waves. Both can adapt themselves to the same form and 
thus become messengers of information. Must we declare that all 
communication through the telephone is impossible because elec- 
tricity and sound-waves, wire and air, are entirely different ?" 

The difference between sensation and the thing that causes the 
sensation, affords not the slightest reason why the thing should be 
unknowable or why cognition should be impossible. To illustrate. 
Knowledge is a representation of things and their relations, in the 
mind of a thinking subject. The things need not actually enter 
our brain in order to be represented in our mind. All things and 
their relations being representable, they are knowable. A thing 
and its image reflected in a glass are totally different, but this does 
not make reflection — a representation in the mirror — impossible. 

Sensation does not limit knowledge, as Mr. Shipman pre- 
tends and as he erroneously declares that I have confessed. Sen- 
sation is the basis of all knowledge. It is the building-material 
employed in the structure of all cognition and of all philosophies 
Abstract thoughts are derived from them. Even our dreams and 
errors and illusions have their ultimate origin in sensations. 

The most pregnant and concise answer to Mr. Shipman's 
argument on the unknowability of things would perhaps be a para- 
phrase of his own sentences, comparing the representation of 
cognition to the images of things produced by reflection in a glass : 

" Whatever can be mirrored," our paraphrase runs, " can be 
mirrored in something like a glass only. But the external thing 
does not appear in the glass as it exists outside of the glass. The 
thing and the reflection of the thing are different. It follows of 
necessity that the external thing, as it exists out of the glass is at 
once real and unreflectible. The thing itself cannot be mirrored." 

But why should the thing itself go into the glass ? Is it not 
enough that it is mirrored in the glass ? Why should the thing itself 
be grasped ? Why should the thing itself enter and appear bodily 
in consciousness as it exists ? Is it not enough that it is repre- 
sented in consciousness ? And being represented in conscious- 
ness, that is knowledge ; being correctly and sufliciently repre- 
sented, that is truth. 

Mr. Shipman says, ' ' Consciousness reveals all we know, but 
it conceals more than it reveals ; like its emblem light which while 
unveiling the terrestrial landscape veils the starry hosts " This is 
a very fine comparison but I do not see its application. The real 
existence of things, Mr. Shipman says, disappears behind the veil 
of consciousness. An exquisite simile ! But it proves to me 
nothing. Whatever has affected consciousness as a sensation, is 
represented therein. It is, in that case, thus far known (historical 
knowledge) ; and the knowledge concerning the sensation will be 
complete as soon as it is so arranged among all other sensations 
and all the memories of other sensations that it fits into their sys- 
tem without producing contradiction or discord (philosophical 

The truth that external things remain outside the thinking 
subject, that the things do not enter consciousness, although they 
may be represented in consciousness is, it appears, the substance of 
Mr. Shipman's proof of his doctrine that things are unknowable. 
What does that prove but that Mr. Shipman's view of " knowing " 
and " understanding " and " comprehending, " is totally different 
from ours. In order to understand something we need not eat it, 
so as to get the thing within us ; it is quite sufficient to have it 
represented in our minds, for that is the nature of knowledge — 
that and nothing else. 



A fact that is indivisible in reality can very well b3 divisible 
in our mind. When we speak of the weight of a body we refer to 
its weight and to that alone, not to its volume, not to other proper- 
ties, not even to its mass. We designate thereby a certain property 
of the body, viz., that a certain stress is exerted between it and the 
centre of the earth. This property we separate in our minds from 
all the other properties, although in reality they may be and to a 
great e.xtent are inseparable. Weight for instance is quite insep- 
erable from mass. Yet it is for certain purposes necessary to 
make this distinction. If we speak of feeling, we make reference 
to that subjective process only, and not to motion ; although in 
reality feeling may be and, I believe it is, inseparably connected 
with certain motions, with certain vibrations of nervous substance. 


By " manifestation " I understand the efficacy of natural pro- 
cesses ; for manifestation means their becoming manifest, so as to 
be palpable and observable. The word manifest is derived from 
the Latin manus, hand, and fendere, to dash Against, Thus 
it means palpable, perceivable ; and a manifestation is every act 
of disclosi'ng — a display, a revelation. The manifestation of the 
gravity of a stone is the fall of the stone or its pressure against the 
object upon which it rests. 

Mr. Shipman uses manifestation in a different, and a narrower, 
sense. He understands by manifestation exclusively the manifes- 
tation made upon a sentient being. 

Whether Mr. Shipman's usage of the word or mine is more 
justifiable, I do not care ; in writing I employ words as I expect 
they will be understood. Should I find that a word is used more 
commonly in a different sense than that in which I am accus- 
tomed to use it, I should unhesitatingly give up my usage for 
the benefit of others and, indeed, for my own benefit. For all 
my desire in writing is, to make myself understood. 

I do not propose to dwell at length upon such topics as the 
proper philological meaning of this or that word — provided the 
word in its context cannot be misunderstood. We therefore men- 
tion only incidentally the declaration made in a foot-note by Mr. 
Shipman where it is said : " Phenomena he here confounds, under 
stress of theory, with the external thing which gives rise to sen- 
sation, etc." Readers of my book will recognize the incorrectness 
of this statement ; and I call Mr Shipman's attention to page 135 
where the word phenomenon is explained. The passage quoted 
from my book is a comment on a quotation from M. Binet, in which 
I adopt his usage of the word in the sense of " natural process," 
which does not appear to me objectionable. There is nowhere in 
Fundnvwntal ProbUms any confusion concerning the meaning of 
this word and Mr. Shipman's charge is unjust. 

Words must be construed according to their context. By ex- 
istence we might now understand the abstract and empty idea of 
existence and then again the concrete reality of existing things. 
By matter we might now mean the abstract term comprehending 
those qualities alone which are common to all substances, and 
then again all the material qualities of a special piece of matter. 
Every writer can expect that his readers will interpret words in 
agreement with the connection in which they appear — the only 
condition being that the author's meaning in each case be unmis- 
takable. But ambiguity lurks in every expression separated from 
its context. 


The "existence " of a thing is an abstract concept of greater 
circumscription than is our idea of its special ' ' manifestation, " viz. , 
the form in which it appears at a given moment. That is all Mr. 
Shipman can mean when he says : " Existence necessarily exceeds 
its manifestation." However, existence cannot be said to exceed 

"its capability of manifestation," as Mr, Shipman erroneously 

Note here the danger of pictorial language ! " The excess of 
existence " does not come within the range of sensation ; therefore 
we are told, it is unknowable. This so called " excess of exist- 
ence " is supposed to be something that exceeds or extends beyond 
its present manifestation. Mr. Shipman says : " When the existence 
manifested in the form of a diamond passes into the form of char- 
coal, what becomes of the diamond ? It must survive or perish." 
Manifestation therefore, he concludes is perishable, existence im- 
perishable : existence and manifestation are different. 

This is an example of treating abstract concepts as concrete 
things. Is existence — that something "imperishable" — an es- 
sence behind the diamond ? Is it at the same time diamond and 
charcoal, or is it something unknowable that is neither ? In 
either case it would certainly be as Mr. Shipman declares, incom- 

Existence is not an "imperishable" essence aside from its 
" perishable" manifestation. The abstract idea of existence is a 
wider generalization than the concept of its special manifestation. 
But the (omrcte existence of a given piece of reality is exactly iden- 
tical with its present manifestation. That something " imperish- 
able " of the diamond (which Mr. Shipman calls " existence") is 
full and entire in the diamond and will be present in its entirety in 
any other form into which the substance of the diamond may be 
put. This special form we call a diamond ; in another form we call 
it graphite or charcoal as the case might be. 

That is the simple solution of this profound problem. There 
is nothing mysterious in it, and I cannot detect a place upon 
which agnosticism is to find a foothold. 


Mr Shipman asks : " Knowability by whom— manor moner ? " 
If I declare that a problem is solvable, will you retort the same 
question : by whom — man or moner ? And will you maintain that 
because it is insolvable by the latter, it must be insolvable gener- 
ally ? A mathematical problem is insolvable to a child ; it is 
beyond the understanding of the cleverest dog, but it is therefore 
not insolvable /t'rVc'. Many things, many explanations of natural 
processes were unknowable to former generations ; yet they were 
not unknowable in themselves. 

This is my whole objection to agnosticism : Unknoivnbility is 
not a ijuality inhcient in things. Every thing that exists can 
be represented in the consciousness of a sentient being. That 
which is unknowable to me, is not unknowable to a man who has 
the deeper insight to comprehend it I do not deny the relativity 
of knowledge, I do not deny the inexhaustibility of existence for 
cognition, nor do I deny that with the solution of every problem 
new problems will constantly offer themselves Yet I do deny that 
the Unknown is the Unknowable ; I do deny that legitimate prob- 
lems exist which are insolvable. 


" If Vie take away from a thing all the prdperties that we are 
accustomed to comprehend by a word, there is left " the meaning- 
less word — a mere sound," Mr. Shipman asks, " What has be- 
fallen the thing ? " Why, we have taken away the whole thing, 
of course. 

Mr. Shipman imagines that the thing would remain because 
" a mental act can hardly wipe out a material thing." It seems as 
if Mr. Shipman had overlooked the " if " or supposes that the prop- 
erties are assumed to be taken away mentally, i. e., from the idea 
of the thing only. Therefore the words //and thing are italicized 
in the sentence above-quoted. 

What I mean to say is that the thing is the sura total of all 
its properties and that there is not " a thing in itself" behind its 


properties. The properties of a thing are its qualities. They are 
not like the properties of a person in the sense of his possessions 
and belongings, which if all were taken away, leave the person 
still intact. All the properties of a thing, taken together, are the 
thing. Accordingly, there are no such things as things in them- 

Here appears again a difference in the usage of words Mr. 
Shipman understands by " properties " of a thing " the sensations 
which it occasions," while I would define " property " with Webster 
as " that which is proper to any thing ; a peculiar quality of any 
thing ; that which is inherent in a subject, or naturally essential 
to it." 

" The relative " and " the absolute " are expressions signify- 
ing a certain attitude which we intend to take towards things. If I 
wish to consider a thing not in the relations which in reality it 
bears to other things, I consider it absolutely. Considering 
things absolutely is a mental process, but in reality things never 
possess any such absoluteness, they constantly remain in relations 
to other things. 

If there is anything absolute, it is the Universe or the All ; 
reality considered in its totality is absolute. But here again, the 
absoluteness of the All is an absoluteness in so far only as the All 
has no relations to other Alls or Universes outside of it. Yet the 
Universe has certain relations to its parts, as the solar system in 
its totality comprises certain relations to its different planets. 
Moreover, if the Universe, the sum total of all the celestial bodies, 
may be considered as possessing one common motion, would 
there not be a relation of the All to the direction of its own motion 
— or to express it in popular terms, a relation between the All and 
the empty space outside of it ? Are there not also relations of the 
All as it is in this moment, to the All as it was and as it will be ? 

If the agnostic assumes that there is something beyond 
natural processes, to wit, his Unknowable, he can call absolute 
neither Nature nor the Unknowable. Nature is not absolute, be- 
cause the agnostic believes that it depends upon the unknowable 
something- Mr. Shipman identifies the absolute with the Unknow- 
able ; but the Unknowable has a sense and meaning only in so far 
as it stands in a certain relation to nature. The absolutely absolute 
then must be outside of the world of real and knowable existences, 
it can only be a something that we need not care or bother about, 
and we can safely disbelieve it without committing a sin or involv- 
ing ourselves in a logical fallacy. 

In popular parlance the word absolute is, and we deny not 
that it may be, used in the sense of a relative co:npleteness, mean- 
ing thereby that a thing has no relations in a certain direction 
only. The theorems of mathematics are absolute in so far as their 
authority is intrinsic, they are not laws proclaimed by some legis- 
lative act. Yet they are not absolute in the sense that their validity 
and certainty rest in midair or nowhere. They are not absolutely 
absolute, but may very well be called absolute for the purpose of 
declaring that in a certain way they are independent. 

I repeat : an objectively and absolutely absolute does not exist. 
" Absolute" expresses not a quality of or in things, but a certain 
attitude of the thinking subject only. In reality there are no ab- 
solute objects, no absolute things, no absolute relations. 

Mr. Shiprnan reasons that ' ' the relative suggests the abso- 
lute " as its correlative. But must it therefore, simply because it 
is suggested, have a real existence ? I do not think so. So does 
the possible suggest the impossible as its correlative. Is there- 
fore the impossible a reality ? If it were, then indeed Mr. Ship- 
man's argument that " we could more easily walk away from our 
shadow than think away from the absolute " is no less true of the 


Mr. Shipman uses to a great advantage my concession, as he 

calls it, that there are problems which are insolvable. I declared 
that such problems as are per sj insolvable are not admissible ; 
they are illegitimate and wrongly stated. Mr. Shipman does not 
accept this view of the subject but claims with great plausibility 
that the mere existence of insolvable problems proves agnosticism. 
Indeed, I might define agnosticism as that philosophy which looks 
upon the basic problems of philosophy as insolvable. 

It is true that I concede the existence of insolvable problems ; 
but the existence of insolvable problems proves nothing in favor 
of agnosticism. Let us see what an insolvable problem is. 

Take as an instance the squaring of the circle. Thousands of 
ingenious mathematical minds, Hindu sages, Greek philosophers, 
and modern thinkers, have in vain attempted a solution. Grad- 
ually certain mathematicians came to the conclusion that the prob- 
lem might be insolvable, and recently Professor Lindemann, at 
present of the University of Konigiberg, has taken the immense 
trouble to demonstrate that the problem is insolvable and to ex- 
plain TO/y it is insolvable. (See note on next page.) This settles 
the question. The squaring of the circle being shown to be impos- 
sible, the problem is solved. The solution is negative. 

I might explain the nature of an insolvable problem by the 
following example : 

Problein : Take a rook, which can move in lines parallel to 
the sides of the board only, and, starting from the corner square 
Ai of a chess-board, pass through all the squares once, but never 
more than once, and arrive at the corner of the board diagonally 
opposite (square H, 8). 


F G H 

This problem is insolvable to the extent that the performance 
demanded can never be accomplished. The problem, however, 
is to this extent solvable that we can prove that whenever the num- 
ber of squares in both directions make up an even number, the 
demand is illegitimite. In reducing it to its simplest form, we may 
state the same problem as follows : Take a board divided into 
the four squares A, B, C, D, as the adjoined diagram shows. 
Start with a rook from A, pass through B and 
C only once, and arrive at D. This in other 
words means : go to the left and at the same time to 
the right, and arrive at a place midway between. 
Or you might, demand this : Move in a cir- 
cle and describe one complete revolution (only 
one not one and a half) and arrive at the side op- 
posite to that from which you started. 

Problems that are wrongly stated must not be 


considered as lying beyond our comprehension. They are not 
unknowable, not incomprehensible— they are illegitimate. 

Every rational thinker who, when working out a problem, 
arrives at contradictory statements, would confess at once that he 
must have made a mistake. The agnostic philosopher is an excep- 
tion. He arrives at anon liquet, and it never occurring to him that 
the confusion might be subjective, he declares that the confusion 
is objective. Being taken to task, he makes the same mistakes 
over again, arrives at the same contradictory statements, and 
triumphantly proclaims his quod ernl liemons/nuuium ! 

The agnostic attitude changes the whole character of philos- 
ophy. The philosopher's duty is to present a clear conception of 
the world. The agnostic's problem is to prove that things are in 
complete confusion. Happily it is not so. He can only prove the 
confusion of his conception of things. P. c. 

NB. Prof. Lindemann's essay appeared first in the Bcrlchte der Berliner 
Akademie, (June 1S82,) then in the Comptcs rendus of the French Academy (Vol. 
115, p. 72-74), and in the Mathematische Annalen (Vol. 20, p. 213-225). For a 
popular discussion of the subject see Dr. Hermann Schubert, Die Quadratur 
des Ziriels, published among the Wissenschaftliche Vortrage by R. Virchow 
and Fr. v. HoltzendorSE, No. 67. 



I slept and in my sleep there came to me 
A perfect vision of my soul's desire : 
Peace, born of Truth that lit the world like fire 

And set all hearts aglow with sympathy. 

And then there came a sound that seemed to be 

The distant murmur of a golden lyre ; 

I woke and near my window heard a wire 
In low vibration turned to melody. 

land of petty striving, loud with praise 

Of heedless change and haste and wealth we store. 
May softening time make music in your ways. 

And school our young conceit to bow before 
The simple dignity of older days 

When things were less and man himself was more. 
Washington, D. C, 1889. 



To the Editor of The Open Court : — 

Sir : — In your number 113, Azotes, it is announced that Wheel- 
barrow has closed the debate re The Single Tax. I hope you will find 
room for this letter, especially as I live in so far away a country as 
New Zealand, and as I hope to interest your readers on the ' ' Land- 
Question " as it is being administered in this country. About six 
years ago the government adopted what we call the "perpetual 
lease system," together with two other methods, " Freehold ten- 
ure " and "the Homestead tenure." As in America, the govern- 
ment acquired by various means, sometimes by confiscation, but 
mostly by purchase, large tracts of land from the natives. These 
lands have been dealt with from the earliest time by different 
methods. A large portion has been set out for various purposes in 
the shape of endowments, and the remainder dealt with as before 

1 am not going to attempt to answer " Wheelbarrow " or his 
critics or say which of them has the best of the arguments re The 
Single Tax, but will state some facts. Last year out of a total area 
of land disposed of by the government, consisting of 200,000 acres, 

170,000 acres was let under the "perpetual lease." The conditions 
are that the tenant shall pay to the State five per cent, on the 
capital value of the land so taken up, and the terra of lease 25 
years. At the end of that period a revaluation shall take place on 
the value. All improveihents belong to the tenant, who has the 
first offer of releasing for another term. If he refuses the fresh 
valuation, it passes to the one who will buy. 

With the consent of the State the tenant may sell out at any 
time. The land never passes out of the " hands " of the State. 
Thus you see we, or our children rather, will participate in a large 
State domain eventually. A man with a small capital has no 
need to lay out all his money on the purchase, but can immedi- 
ately start to work. Purchasing the freehold acts as a deterrent. 
Freehold tenure is undoubtedly the best if — mark //—he can re- 
tain the freehold. I djn't know how it is irr .America, but here 
in these colonies the law allows any one to mortgage their free- 
holds. Now a good stiff mortgage generally knocks all the senti- 
ment off a freehold, in fact it is no longer free, but bond, hold. 
Under our perpetual lease the government will not allow, nor will 
any one advance a dollar on what there is no security to offer. 
Ample security of tenure is what I conceive to be all that is re- 
quired, and I would advocate that all tenants should by law be 
remunerated for all improvements they may make on leasehold 
property, subject to certain provisions for the security of the 
landlord, be it individual or State. 

The real evil attending land tenure, is the gambling element ; 
if we can prevent that we shall have solved the problem. 
Yours truly, 

GiSBORNE, New Zealand. W. L. File. 


We have upon our table the following Pamphlets, Reports 
of Proceedings, and Broschures : " Israelite and Indian, A Par- 
allel in Planes of Culture," by Col Garrick Mallery (New York, 
Appleton & Co.); " Proceedings of the Thirty- Seventh Annual 
Meeting of the State Historical Society of Wisconsin'" (Madison, 
Wisconsin) ; " The Control and Care of Pauper Inebriates of 
Towns and Cities," by Lewis D Mason, M. D. (Fort Hamilton, 
N. Y.); " The Voice of Labor," by David Overmyer (Lucifer Pub- 
lishing House, Valley Falls, Kansas); "The Kansas Fight for 
Free Press," (Lucifer Publishing Company, Valley Falls, Kan- 
sas); "Natural Rights, Natural Liberty, and Natural Law," by 
Frank Q. Stuart (Denver, Colorado); "Eleventh Annual Report 
of the State Board of Health of the State of Rhode Island"; 
"Eighth Inaugural .Address of Clark Bell, Esq.," as President of 
the Medico-Legal Society of New York ; " Ninth Inaugural Ad- 
dress of Clark Bell, Esq " ; " Monomania," by Clark Bell, Esq.; 
" Suicide and Legislation," by Clark Bell, Esq.; " The Responsi- 
bilities and Duties of the Medical Profession Regarding Alcoholic 
and Opium Inebriety," an address by C. W. Earle ; "Observa- 
tions in Chiara's Clinic and the Hospital St Maria Nuova, Flor- 
ence, Italy," by C. W. Earle, M. D. (Chicago); " Observations in 
Vienna," by C W. Earle, M. D.; "Infant Feeding," by C. W. 
Earle, M. D.; " The Influence of Sewerage and Water Pollution 
on the Prevalence and Severity of Diphtheria," by Charles War- 
rington Earle, M. D. (Chicago); "Social Ethics," by Ezra H. 
Hey wood ; " A Christian Science Sermon on the Nonentity of a 
Personal Devil," by Joseph Adams; "Will Shakespeare, Tom 
Paine, Bob Ingersoll, and Charley Bradlaugh" (London, R. 
Forder, 28 Stonecutter Street, E. C.) "Report of the Depart- 
ment of Health of the City of Chicago, for 1888," from Commis- 
sioner Oscar De Wolf, M. D. 

Dr. Paul Cams will deliver a lecture in Milwaukee on Sunday 
morning, March 2d, before the Freie Gemeinde. The subject will 
be Tod und Unsterblichkeit (Death and Immortality). 

The Open Court 


Devoted to the Work of Conciliating Religion with Seienee. 

No. 132. (Vol. IV.— 2.) 

CHICAGO, MARCH 6, 1890. 


God is often compared in the Old Testament to a 
shepherd who leads his people in the paths of right- 
eousness ; and those who truthfully obey his com- 
mands, who allow themselves to be guided by him, 
are called his sheep, his lambs, his fiock. Christ 
adopted the same simile and often refers to it. In the 
Acts (viii, 32) Christ himself is compared to a sheep. 
To him is referred the prophesy in Isaiah (liiij 7): 
" He was led as a sheep to the slaughter, and like a 
lamb dumb before his shearers, so opened he not his 

This comparison was sufficient to give the crown of 
glory to the sheep. Christians forgot that similes re- 
main similes ; that they do not cover the truth in all 
respects, but in one or two points only : and thus it 
happened that the weakness of the sheep, its sim- 
plicity, na)', its very stupidity, became an ideal of moral 
goodness and Christian virtue. This misconception 
of the true meaning of goodness received a further 
support in such passages as "Ye resist not evil," and 
' ' Blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the kingdom 
of heaven." Mental and physical weakness, so the 
doctrine of Christianity seemed to say, is a moral merit ; 
and the principle of absolute non-resistance was seri- 
ously defended by many devout believers. 

In recent, times Christ's word "Ye resist not evil" 
has come again into prominence through the teachings 
of Count Tolstoi, who not only adopted it as a prac- 
tical rule of conduct but attempted to show through 
his example that it was possible to live up to it. 

Christ's command,. "Ye resist not evil," contains 
a great moral truth, and Count Tolstoi was taught it 
not through traditional belief in dogmatic Christianity, 
but through the hard facts of life. Having enjoyed a 
good education, hp had become an unbeliever by his 
acquaintance with the so called sciences, and in his 
practical experiences he found himself confronted with 
many anxieties : care and worry for his beloved came 
upon him ; he beheld the pale face of death ; and in the 
moment of despair the unbeliever found comfort and 
strength in words of praj'er. 

Count Tolstoi was converted not by the sermons 
and representations of a subtle apologetic divine, but 
by the overwhelming logic of facts consisting in the 
moral relations between husband and wife, brother 

and brother, friend and friend, man and man. It was 
life that taught the lesson "Ye resist not evil" to 
Tolstoi, and his religion is a religion based upon e.x- 

The myths of the Saviour who came into the world 
from spheres beyond, contain pearls of imperishable 
worth. Having ceased to believe in the sacred legend, 
we may very well preserve the moral truths that like 
valuable kernels are hidden in the useless husks of 
dogmatism. The ethical teacher of the future while 
rejecting the historical fables of Christ's life with an 
uncompromising truthfulness, must extract the gold, 
purified from dross, out of the ores of the old religions. 

Christ's word "Ye resist not evil" must not be 
misinterpreted as if it meant the abolition of all strug- 
gle and a passive submission to everything vile and 
low. A parallel passage, i Peter, iii, 8, reads as fol- 
lows : 

" Be ye all of one mind, having compassion one of another, 
love as brethren, be pitiful, be courteous : not rendering evil for 
evil, or railing for railing ; but contrariwise blessing ; knowing 
that ye are thereunto called, that ye should.inherit a blessing." 

Christ's word " Ye resist not evil" demands the 
suppression of the natural tendency of retaliation. The 
brutish desire in man for vengeance whenever he 
suffers a wrong, should give place to brotherly love 
and forgiveness. This is a divine command. Yet 
divinity, as we understand the term, does not stand in 
contradiction to nature. Divinity is nature ennobled 
elevated, and sanctified. The ethics of love is divine, 
because it is firmly established upon the facts of life ; 
and science, if it be not blind to the moral law that 
pervades nature, will find that it is true. Spinoza, 
whose ethics is n9t that of revelation, says {Ethics, 
III, 43 and 44) : 

"Hatred is increased through hatred yet can be extinguished 
through love. • 

" Hatred if completely conquered by love, changes into love ; 
and this love will be greater than if no hatred had preceded it. " 

The evil of this world cannot be lessened by coun- 
teracting it through new evil. You cannot diminish 
it by committing more evils. The logic of this truth 
is becoming recognized in society now. Suppose that 
some one being in a rage, called you names. Would 
you stoop so low as to answer in the same tone ? Would 
you childishly act like the bad boy saying : "You're 



another ! " Certainly not, unless you lose your temper 
and do things that you will later regret. 

The doctrine "Ye shall not render evil for evil," 
in this sense, will bemore absolutely recognized the 
higher the standard of moral culture is. Yet this doc- 
trine does not at all imply the abolition of all struggle 
and the suppression of combat and fight. We are too 
much accustomed to look upon struggle as the root 
of all evil, and in that case we shall erroneously ex- 
pect that a world of moral life must be without com- 
petition, without war, without fight. The doctrine of 
non-resistance, in the sense of giving up all efforts to 
defend that which is right and just, is practically and 
morally untenable. Life in all its many phases is a 
constant struggle, and the ethics of life demands that 
we shall fight the good fight of faith trusting in the in- 
vincibility of the moral ideal. 

The sentence " Ye resist not evil" is ambiguous 
and it appears preferable to express the truth of this 
doctrine in the words, "Render not evil for evil." 
Evil must be resisted, but not by other evils ; self- 
ishness must be overcome but not by other and 
greater selfishness. Therefore, by the side of the doc- 
trine "Resist not evil with evil," let there appear the 
command : Do your best in the struggle for life and 
conquer evil, not because your own personal interests 
are at stake, but because higher principles are involved 
than the private affairs of your pett}' self. We must 
never lose sight of the truth that our struggle for ex- 
istence, even in commercial competition, is fought for 
the progress of humanity and for an ever higher and 
better realization of human ideals. 

Christ — that is, a moral teacher as described in 
the four gospels — could not possibly have meant by 
his word "Ye resist not evil," that doctrine of passive 
indolence that made of the sheep the ideal of moral 
perfection. For Christ himself fought and struggled, 
he discussed and wrangled with the Scribes and Phar- 
isees. When he stood before Caiaphas, according to 
the account of John, he was smitten in his face, and 
although he was ready to endure another blow, al- 
though he had to endure worse persecutions, and 
although he was not willed, even if he had been able 
to do it, to retaliate : yet he did not suffer it with a 
passive non-resistance ; he turned to the man who beat 
him and took him to account, saying : " If I have 
spoken evil, bear witness of the evil ; but if well, why 
smitest thou me? " 

The doctrine "Render not evil for evil" is ad- 
dressed to every single person as an individual. But it 
does not refer to the government, nor to the magistrate. 
If you are a judge and called upon to pronounce a ver- 
dict, the word has no reference to your judgment. We 
as persons have to renounce all egotism and all vin- 
dictiveness. For egotism and the ill-will of the human 

heart are the roots of all evil. Our egotism and the 
evil wants of petty personal desires must be renounced 
once for all and without reserve, not only where we 
do wrong, but also where we suffer wrong. 

That Christ did not intend to teach the weak morals 
of non-resistence can be learned from his own de- 
meanor. When he and his disciples came to Jeru- 
salem, "Jesus went into the temple, and began to 
cast out them that sold and bought in the temple, and 
overthrew the tables of the moneychangers, and the 
seats of them that sold doves ; and would not suffer 
that any man should carry any vessel through the 
temple. And he taught, saying unto them. Is it not 
written, My house shall be called of all nations the 
house of prayer? but ye have made it a den of 

Christ did not render evil for evil where his per- 
sonal interests were involved, yet if punishment is to 
be called an evil, he did not hesitate to render evil for 
evil in that dominion where he considered himself as 
the representative of Him that — according to his ideals 
of religious life — he felt had sent him. 

Humanity, Christian and non-Christian, is under 
the influence of the sheep allegory still. One of the 
greatest biologists denies the existence of moral facts 
in nature, because the sheep and the deer are eaten by 
the wolves, and because in human society the same 
struggle for existence as in brute creation is fiercely 
fought, although with more refined weapons. The 
struggle for existence will continue, it can not be 
abolished, because it is a natural law, and sheepish- 
ness will never triumph in the world of real life. 
Having proved this, the scientist is satisfied, that na- 
ture is immoral. 

Let us beware of the ethics of ovine morality. 
Morality is not negative, it is not mere submission to 
evil, no pure passivity, no suffering, simply: morality is 
positive. Not by the omission of certain things do we 
do right, but by straining all the faculties of mind and 
body to do our best in the struggle for life which we 
have to fight. We may be weak, and we may feel our 
weakness. The greater should our efforts be, to fight 
the struggle ethically. We may be poor in spirit and 
we may feel our want, but nature will supply us with 
that which we want, if we but earnestly struggle to 
acquire it. He who is strong in spirit and in body, 
he who feels his strength and misuses it, will not be 
the conqueror in the end. It is not the self-sufficient 
that are blessed; but those who are aware of their in- 
sufficiency. This only, in my opinion, can be the 
meaning when Christ says : 

" Blessed are the poor in spirit : for theirs is the kingdom of 

We must be on our guard against unfeeling stern- 
ness, yet on the other hand let us not drop into the 



other extreme. We must be on our guard against 
ethical sentimentality also. There is too much preach- 
ing about the sweetness of religion and the rapturous 
delight of ethics. Yet this saccharine religiosity is just 
as impotent and useless as that ovine morality which 
glorifies in its weakness and does not struggle for 

Austere rigidity in religion and ethics is like a rose 
without odor, it is life without gladness, and obedience 
without loving devotion.- The passivity of a lamb like 
submission is idealized weakness fortified and strength- 
ened by moral vanity and sugared over with senti- 
mental enthusiasm. 

Religion and ethics, we do not deny, are full of 
sweetness and noble joys, yet at the same time they 
are stern ; they are of an unrelenting severity and 
majesty. It is only the unison of both, the strength 
of austerity and the fervor of sentiment, that makes 
morality wholesome, sound, and healthy. 



Many hundred years before Columbus solved the 
secret of the Western Atlantic, the mariners of Spain 
believed in the existence of a Hesperian Garden coun- 
try — a miraculous island that vanished at the approach 
of the explorer, though the outlines of its mountains 
had often been seen on the distant horizon. That 
tradition was of Moorish origin. According to the 
Paradise legend of ancient Araby, Allah has not de- 
stroyed the Garden of Eden, but hides its glories from 
natural ken, lest the war for its possession should 
prove the destruction of the human race. A similar 
providence seems to have watched over the destinies 
of the New World. Two hundred years ago, when 
Spain, France, and England disputed the boundaries 
of their transatlantic possessions, it was already pretty 
well known that the country between Canada and 
Mexico combined a temperate climate with at least a 
million square miles of luxuriant forests, and if the 
political economists of the seventeenth century could 
have recognized the significance of those facts the 
nations of the Old World would have massacred each 
other for the possession of our territory. 

For the true basis of national wealth is not gold 
but wood. Forest-destruction is the sin that has 
cost us our earthly paradise. War, pestilence, storms, 
fanaticism, and intemperance, together with all other 
social mistakes and misfortunes, have not caused half 
as much permanent damage as that one fatal crime 
against the fertility of our Mother Earth. 

The axe has turijed the garden-lands of the East 
into hopeless deserts ; it has destroyed, rather than 
devastated, the fairer half of the habitable earth, for 
the ruin is practically irremediable. There is a the- 

oretical possibility of reclaiming the barren lands of 
the East, but experience has proved that the difficul- 
ties of the task exceed the present and prospective 
resources of the human race. Mehemet Ali covered the 
Thebaid with forest-trees, but at a distance of forty 
yards from a permanent water-course they withered as 
fast as they could be replanted. In Algeria the French 
Government expended millions on artesian wells. 
They have benefited a few tribes of pastoral, nomads, 
but their influence on the surrounding vegetation 
ceases with the activity of the puriipers; a single day 
of rest is apt to undo the work of six week days. In 
Eastern Persia famine has become a chronic com- 
plaint; irrigation-ditches are useless where the brooks 
themselves are apt to fail. 

In East America, on the other hand, the combined 
influence of natural and artificial fertilizers has im- 
proved both the crops and the soil ; we have found 
that "high farming" will pay, in every sense. In 
Persia outraged Nature refuses to be conciliated, while 
in Pennsylvania her bounty has no ascertained limits, 
and even without the influence of climatic contrasts, 
it would be easier to improve a fertile country to a 
tenfold degree of productiveness than to restore a desert 
to the tenth part of its former fertility. 

In other words, the chances are a hundred to one 
that the United States will become the most densely 
populated country of the world, before the ingenuity 
of despair will enable mankind to reclaim the eastern 
sandwastes. The great Mediterranean desert is mov- 
ing westward as fast as our centre of population, and 
has reached the east-shores of Italy and Spain. Africa 
is a dying continent; Australia is a steppe, with a nar- 
row border of farming land. The climate of South 
America, like that of Hindostan, is not compatible 
with the habits (and still less with the vices) of the 
progressive races. 

North America is the land of the future. In the 
United States various circumstances enable us to fore- 
see the manner, as well as the degree, of our national 
development. The laws of Nature which guide the 
march of our progress, are less incalculable than the 
caprices of kings and priests. Time is the test of 
truth, and even in the years of the present generation 
the concurrent "streams of tendency" will show 
whether the following predictions are founded upon 
Peter Bayle's legitimate art of prophecy — the art of 
distinguishing the main current of events from their 
incidental fluctuations. 

The census of A. D. 1900 will show a remarkable 
chaTige in the distribution of our population : before 
the end of the present decade the centre will begin to 
move southward, instead of westward. Two hundred 
years ago when the first settlers of our Atlantic sea- 
board were guided by the comparison of natural ad- 



vantages, most of them preferred the colonies south of 
Chesapeake Bay. The pilgrims of the Ma3'flower in- 
tended to settle in South Virginia, but heavy storms 
drove them out of their course, and their landing at 
Plymouth Rock was purely accidental. The next 
twenty years will modify the results of that accident, 
as well as the after-effects of negro slavery and political 
intolerance. Before long the climatic superiority of 
the " Piedmont Region," the terrace- land of the south- 
ern AlJeghanies, will begin to tell. Georgia, Alabama, 
Tennessee, and the Carolinas will more than double 
their population within the next thirty years. Various 
industries will establish their headquarters in the South. 
Commercial activity in the higher phases of its present 
development seems to require the stimulus of a cold 
climate, but the mechanical industries find a congenial 
home under the isotherms of Lyons and Geneva, and 
will profit by the cheap labor of the old slave States. 
Cotton will be spun where it grows. The coal-fields 
of Tennessee and Alabama, the immense water-power 
of Northern Georgia, will not be much longer neglected, 
and after a few successful investments the rivalry of 
trade will soon stud the South with manufacturing 
towns. The railroad from Atlanta to Lynchburg, via 
Spartanburg, Charlotte and Danville, Va., is destined 
to rival the " Big City road " from Niagara to Lake 
Michigan. These Chicagoes of the South will perhaps 
be more orthodox than their Northern rivals — con- 
servatism being a concomitant of climatic blessings — 
but they will not be Sabbatarian cities ; under the 
latitude of Italy it has never been popular to suppress 
the outdoor amusements of the poor. 

During the last Paris Exhibition many visitors of 
the "pomological department" were astonished at 
the size and beauty of an assortment of apples in a 
plain wooden show-case. They were as mariy-colored 
as a collection of agates and of the same waxy gloss, 
and all of them of an extraordinary size. The three 
largest had been weighed and labelled, i, 1.05, and 
1.35 kilogrammes, i. e., i^ and two pounds a piece. 
Those pomological marvels did not come from Avalon, 
nor from Lombardy, nor Smyrna, but from Macon 
County, in western North Carolina. On the plateau of 
the Southern AUeghanies the summer season is as genial 
as in Southern Switzerland, while its spring is just late 
enough to prevent the premature blossoming of fruit- 
.trees, and thus saves them from the March frosts. 
This apple region comprises all the southern mountain 
States between the thirty-fourth and thirty-seventh 
parallels, and seems to be equally well adapted for 
pears, peaches, andfigs. Immigration and experiments 
will settle those points, and then man-food, par ex- 
.cellence, will cease to be an article of luxury. 

The West, in the meanwhile, will become the gran- 
ary of the world. Factories and uncertain crops have 

burdened Europe with a population of that most un- 
desirable class which Carl Ritter calls the city refugees, 
fugitives from famine, whose means of migration are 
barely sufficient to carry them to the suburbs of the 
next town, where their presence tends to increase the 
rates of the poor-taxes, or at least the excess of food- 
consumers over food-producers. They die early, but 
their multitude turns the balance of trade by battering 
life for coin, and coin for American wheat. They crowd 
the white-slave quarters of all large cities from Lisbon 
to Moscow, and their number will still increase, and 
with it the profits of our western farmers. But after 
the wheat area has spread to the borders of the arid 
central plateau, it will invade the woodlands of the 
Northwest — Michigan and the timber-belt of the north- 
ern lake-region — as well as the forests of the Missis- 
sippi Valley, and the decrease of arboreal vegeta- 
tion will then begin to exert its inevitable climatic 
influence. The total annual rainfall will decrease, 
but the confluence of the winter-rains, unchecked - 
by the moisture-absorbing network of the woods, 
will cause disastrous freshets; Louisiana and Arkan- 
sas will be inundated as regularly as Lower Egypt ; 
and at the mouth of the Mississippi the deposits 
of river-sediment will keep a fleet of dredge boats 
busy. In midsummer the uplands will be visited b}' 
more frequent droughts ; the Rocky Mountain locust 
will establish its headquarters in. Southern Missouri 
and colonize the cotton States. At the same time, 
however, the climate of the Middle and Northern 
States will become more agrreable — dryer, namel)', 
and milder. Excessive clearings have thus modified 
the climate of all southern and central Europe. In the 
time of Xenophon, Greece had harder winters than 
modern Dalmatia ; on the expedition against Corcj'ra, 
Socrates marched barefoot through the deep snow, in 
order to silence the effeminate complaints of hisj'oung 
companions. The harbor of Syracuse was frequently 
ice-bound, and the Tiber froze nearly every year. 
Cyrus used to pass seven months of the year at Babylon, 
in the Euphrates Valley, a "region of perpetual 
spring," as Xenophon calls it, in the same valley where 
the dog-star now seems to rage perpetually. Cyren- 
aica, the modern Tunis, with its superheated drift- 
sands, where 80,000 nomads eke out a precarious ex- 
istence, had once six millions of inhabitants, twenty 
or thirty flourishing cities, surrounded by luxuriant 
valleys, whose climate seems to have resembled that 
of our old colonies, Virginia and North Carolina. Sev- 
eral poets mention the "snowy summit" of Mount 
Soracte, a South-Italian mountain of very moderate 
elevation. Tacitus speaks of frozen lakes in modern 
Italy, and his description of the German woodlands, 
" horrid with frost," would have answered the present 
state of affairs in Northern Canada. 



The average temperature of Eastern Europe must, 
indeed, have risen at least twenty degrees, and the 
disappearance of our Eastern Sylvania has already be- 
gun to produce an analogous effect. The old settlers 
of Northern Georgia remember a time when the Tocoa 
River used to "freeze solid," at least every other year, 
while during the last fifteen years it froze only twice, — 
in February, 1878, and December, 1885. When Penn- 
sylvania was first settled, a winter like the last would 
have been considered miraculous ; thfe heavy snowfall 
of the North counties used to blockade the overland 
roads to New York almost every year. 



Mr. Frederic Harrison's article in the Fortnightly 
Review on 'The Future of Agnosticism,' and Professor 
Huxley's reply thereto in the Nineteenth Century, will 
recall to many the discussion a few years ago in the 
last named Review between Mr. Harrison and Mr. 
Herbert Spencer on the subject of Religion — a discus- 
sion originating with Mr. Spencer's essay, 'Religion 
a Retrospect and Prospect.' 

The interest which that notable controversy excited 
at the time will be remembered, and it will also be re- 
membered that, as is the common fate with discus- 
sions of this subject, no agreement was arrived at, — 
indeed among the respective adherents of Mr. Spencer 
and ■ Mr. Harrison to this day the moot points are 
points in dispute. 

I should like once more to direct attention to the 
standpoints of these distinguished writers, to notice 
their fundamental differences and to suggest a line of 
thought in regard to this, the greatest question of our 
age, which, if it has not been entirely lost sight of, 
does not seem to me to have received the considera- 
tion its importance deserves. 

Religion, I have said, is the greatest question of 
our age, and when we consider the part it has played 
in history, and the interest which anything relating to 
it can arouse even in this iconoclastic time, when, as 
has been observed, the religious novel rivals the sen- 
sational in popularity, I think it will be admitted that 
so to describe it is not to magnify its claim. 

Among the class of thinkers who style themselves 
Agnostics, opinion is varied. There are those who, 
finding the orthodox creeds discredited, take the posi- 
tion that the very idea of Religion is no better than a 
superstitious survival, and those others who hold that 
in essence the thing known in the past as Religion 
will have for the future a meaning and, in modified 
forms, an import as great as was ever attached to it by 
sacerdotal ages. Then there is Agnosticism as repre- 
sented by Professor Huxley, who is the Agnostic pure 

and simple, and Agnosticism as represented by Mr. 
Spencer and by Mr. Harrison, who would be Agnos- 
tics if they were not also something more. 

Assuming for the purposes of this essay, that dog- 
matic Christianity stands discredited at the bar of rea- 
son, assuming that its affirmations in regard to deity, 
to origin, and destiny, to the why, whence, and whither, 
of human life, and to a multitude of other questions 
are set at naught, assuming that we accept the dicta 
of modern Science in regard to such fundamentals of 
Christianity as the Fall of Man, the doctrines of the 
Atonement and of everlasting rewards and punish- 
ments, assuming in fine that we have seen the founda- 
tions of the Christian edifice, philosophy, church, and 
scheme disappear — what will be the result ? Shall 
society remain without a unified, coherent philosophy 
and religion, such as the Christian church for hun- 
dreds of years supplied to its members, or shall there 
arise out of the ashes of the old order a new religion 
based upon the new philosophy, a religion which shall 
be wide enough to receive mankind within its pale, 
which shall do for the modern world what Christianity 
did for our fathers, what every religion in some shape 
has professed to do for its votaries, viz., give men a 
theory of the universe to which all can subscribe, a 
code of morals which all can approve, an ideal to which 
all can aspire, — a common organic bond. 

My own conviction, at the outset, is that the re- 
ligious emotion is a living principle of our nature. 
Whether on the grounds claimed by Mr. Spencer or 
on those set forth by Mr. Harrison, or perhaps on 
both, I shall hereafter attempt to show. The view 
that religion is a thing of priestcraft and superstition, 
a systematized fraud used by the wily and unscrupu- 
lous to dupe the credulous, is not entitled to respect- 
ful attention. For me it is negatived by the univer- 
sality of the religious sentiment. 

Consideration of the purely Agnostic position need 
not detain us long. Agnosticism has nothing con- 
structive or positive about it, unless what there may 
be of positive or constructive in denial and negation. 
Its very claim, as implied by its title, is that it is neg- 
ative, that in regard to certain matters it takes the 
Agnostic position, the position of non- affirmation. It 
does not attempt to construct a religion, it has no 
word to say as to a possible future religion, and if it 
has been destructive of ancient faiths, it has been so 
only incidentally. The Agnostic, as we know him, is 
the philosophic scientist who, finding certain affirma- 
tions of Christianity contradicted by Science, has said 
so with more or less of energy and acumen. The 
scientists think they have said so with extreme mod- 
eration. We know on the other hand what the major- 
ity of Christians think about it. This, then, is the 
Agnostic position — it has rejected the authority of 



Christianity, it has acted as a solvent of the ancient 
dogmas, it does indeed give us its opinion upon those 
questions of deity, origin, and destiny referred to above, 
but it does not pretend to tell us what religion essen- 
tially has been in the past nor what it essentially will 
be in the future. When it undertakes to do the latter. 
Agnosticism goes beyond its appellative and should 
make haste to get itself another name. 

Two writers, one the greatest philosopher of mod- 
ern times, the other one of the most brilliant of Eng- 
lish essayists, have undertaken to tell us specifically 
what Religion has been in the past and what it is 
likely to be in the future; Mr. Spencer speaking for 
himself and the system of thought with which his 
name is identified, Mr. Harrison speaking also for 
himself, but speaking as well for the philosophic, po- 
litical, and religious system of Auguste Comte. 

These two gentlemen have necessarily passed 
through the critical, agnostic stage. They are Agnos- 
tics in Religion, but they are also much more, since 
they have something positive to affirm in regard to the 
future of Religion. Mr. Spencer's position is that the 
true source of the religious emotion is ' the conscious- 
ness of a Mystery that cannot be fathomed, and a Power 
that is omnipresent,'' 'that Unknown Cause of which the 
entire Cosmos is a Manifestation,' and which, though 
it transcend conception, is ever present as our most 
abiding consciousness. This position Mr. Harrison 
ridicules and describes Mr. Spencer's Unknown Cause 
as an ' ever-present conundrum to be everlastingly given 
up'. Persistently ignoring Mr. Spencer's statement 
that 'the power which manifests itself in conscious- 
ness is but a differently conditioned form of the power 
which manifests itself beyond consciousness,' and that 
'our lives alike physical and mental, in common with 
all the activities amid which we live, are but the work- 
ings of this power,' Mr. Harrison describes it as a 
'logical formula begotten in controversy, dwelling 
apart from man and the world.' Replying to this 
Mr. Spencer pertinently observes, "Does Mr. Harri- 
son really think that he represents the facts when he 
describes as 'dwelling apart from man and the world' 
that power of which man and the world are regarded 
products, and which is manifested through man and the 
world from instant to instant?" 

As Mr. Spencer points out Mr. Harrison will do 
anything but meet this issue, and while Mr. Spencer 
adds to what is said above that 'though duty requires 
us neither to affirm nor deny personality of the Un- 
known Cause,' yet ' the choice is not between person- 
ality and something lower than personality, but be- 
tween personality and something higher,' Mr. Harri- 
son asks such pointless questions as 'How does the 
man of science approach the All-Nothingness?' and 
suggests that the mathematical quantity (x") ' would 

be an appropriate symbol for the Religion of the in- 
finite Unknowable.' It will be seen that Mr. Harrison 
could afford to be witty at the expense of the Unknow- 
able, that which was once called God. Mr. Spencer, 
on the contrary, discusses the subject throughout in a 
serious and dignified tone. 

As Mr. Harrison says, the difference between him 
and Mr. Spencer as to what Religion means is vital 
and profound. According to Mr. Spencer it is the 
emotion aroused by the mystery and magnitude of the 
universe, by the thought of eternity, of infinite space; 
by the thought of the stellar worlds, the loveliness of 
sunset, the glory of. the starry firmament, the wonder 
of vegetation, the wonder of humanity : by that en- 
folding mystery which makes existence a continuous 
miracle ; that profound emotion which drew from 
Whitman the exclamation, 

" Swiftly I shrivel at the thought of God." 

The emotion, the source of which Wordsworth de- 
scribes as 

" A presence that disturbs us with a joy 
Of elevated thoughts, a sense sublime 
of something far more deeply interfused, 
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, 
And the round ocean, and the living air, 
And the blue sliy, and in the mind of man ; 
A motion and a spirit that impels 
All thinking things, all objects of all thought. 
And rolls through all things." 

The emotion which inspired the oft-quoted lines 
spoken by Faust to Margaret : 

" Who can name Hira, and, knowing what he says. 
Say ' I believe in Him ? ' And who can feel, ' 
And with self-violence to conscious wrong 
Hardening his heart, say, ' I believe Him not ! ' 
The All-embracing, All-sustaining One. 
Say doth he not embrace, sustain, include 
Thee ?— Me ?— Himself ?— Bends not the sky above ? 
And earth on which we are is it not firm, 
And over us with constant kindly smile 
The sleepless stars keep everlasting watch ; 
Am I not here gazing into thine eyes ? 
And does not All that is, 
Seen and unseen mysterious all — 
Around thee and within. 
Untiring agency. 
Press on thy heart and mind ? 
Fill thy whole heart with it." 

According to Mr. Harrison, ' Religion is mainly a 
thing of feeling and of conduct, and is concerned es- 
sentially with duty.' He agrees that it must have an 
intellectual base, but fte weakness of. the Positivist's 
position is that its intellectual base will not bear the 
obvious and ordinary logical pressure. Here it might 
be well to say squarely that Mr. Harrison's Religion 
leaves out entirely the idea of God. Comte, whom he 
follows in this, professed to re-organize society ^ sans 
dieu ni roi,' — without God or king, — and if the idea of 
the Unknown Cause had any place in the Positivist 
system, it would be impossible for Mr. Harrison to be 
funny about the 'All-Nothingness.' Mr. Harrison 
will have nothing to do with the Unknown Cause. 
He prefers, on the whole, to regard humanity as the 


2 I 29 

uncaused. He will not admit that a Power greater 
than Humanity has produced humanit}'. Humanity, 
according to him, deserves in some way the credit of 
having produced itself, of having sustained itself 
through the ages, and to humanity alone humanity 
must look for its future prosperity and progress. Alas 
for this vain-glorious humanity, if for one hour the sun 
should withdraw his friendly light and heat ! Denying 
that humanity depends upon an unknown Cause for its 
very existence, Mr. Harrison finds that Mr. Spencer, 
in insisting upon this as a truth, is insisting 'on one 
of the most gigantic paradoxes in the history of 
thought.' He is fond of recurring to this paradox. He 
evidently thinks that here Mr. Spencer is very weak 
and he himself is very strong. But so far as Mr. 
Spencer takes his argument there is no weak link in 
his chain. He might have taken it further. 

Had Mr. Spencer set out, as Mr. Harrison has 
done, to found a religion, I have no doubt that he 
would have taken his argument further. For such a 
purpose he could logically have extended it so as to 
include in his religious system Mr. Harrison's Re- 
ligion of Humanity. And the wonder of it is that Mr. 
Harrison, who has set out to found a Religion, did 
not, from his own ground, see this. With Mr. Spen- 
cer humanity is forever connected with the Unknow- 
able Power, being a part and manifestation of that 
Power, and therefore whatever emotions of awe and 
wonder are excited by the contemplation of the uni- 
verse are inseparably linked with those other emo- 
tions of love, compassion, admiration, etc., which the 
thought of humanity stirs in us as members of the hu- 
man family. To Mr. Spencer this course is logically 
possible — to Mr. Harrison it is not. While making 
merry over Mr. Spencer's 'gigantic paradox,' he is 
himself blind to the paradox wherein he attempts to 
make humanity stand alone and unsupported — a house 
in the air, a structure without a foundation, a product 
without a producer, an effect without a cause (for if 
humanity be caused, where is the intellectual base for 
Mr. Harrison's Religion of Humanity, since an Un- 
known Cause is rejected?). And thus, committing in- 
tellectual suicide, Mr. Harrison cuts himself off from 
that source of high emotion which is abundantly shown 
by Mr. Spencer to have an intellectual base. 

It seems to me then that by a union of their forces 
and thus only can the philosophy and feeling of a 
world-religion be developed. Mr. Spencer would find 
it necessary to embrace in his religious system, as he 
has already embraced in his philosoph)', man's hfe 
and the source thereof. The domain of religion will 
ever be co-extensive with that of philosophy ; they 
necessarily supplement each other, philosophy fur- 
nishing the thought-element, religion the element of 
feeling. Mr. Harrison must needs admit the logical 

insufficiency of his Religion of Humanity, and accept 
the intellectual basis and source of religious emotion 
insisted on by Mr. Spencer. 


The entire mass of psychological data furnished 
by modern researches, and especially by hypnotic in- 
vestigations, may be divided into three groups : 

(i) The normal phenomena of soul-life, which can 
be observed in every-day life ; 

(2) Abnormal phenomena of soul-life, which can be 
reproduced under special conditions and thus admit 
of verification by experiment; and 

(3) Abnormal phenomena of soul-life observed by 
certain individuals who are supposed, or claim, to be 
in possession of special gifts (such as second sight and 

The data of the first two classes alone can be con- 
sidered as indubitable facts ; those of the third class 
rest on a very weak authority, considering the in- 
numerable illusions that can take place in individuals 
given to the belief in the miraculous. 

The psychological data of indubitable character, 
i. e., the phenomena of every one's normal soul life, 
and those experiments of psychic research which ad- 
mit of verification by experiment, we have learned, 
exhibit a strong tendency to corroborate the monistic 
view of psychological phenomena. Dualism indeed 
is limited to the third class as a store-house for its 
weapons of attack, and psychologists of a dualistic 
bias have therefore taken pains to gather all attainable 
reports about telepathy and second sight as experienced 
by certain individuals of a specially spiritual nature. 
If dualists wish to convince the world of the truth of 
dualism, they must derive their proofs from the data 
of the two first classes, which are generally acknowl- 
edged as facts by science. These, however, seem to 
exclude a dualistic interpretation ; so strong is their 
evidence in favor of the inseparable unity of psycho- 
logical and physiological phenomena ! 

Ideas are no disembodied ghosts created from 
supersensible or supernatural elements, they are real 
stuctures that live in our brain, possessed of a definite 
form and produced in the nervous substance through 
sensory impressions. In calling them ideas, we do 
not, however, as a rule refer to their physiological 
objectivity, which forms their bodily reality, but to 
their spiritual subjectivity : we refer to that indescrib- 
able phenomenon which every living being experiences 
when he feels und thinks. The whole empire of sub- 
jective experlnces is called the ideal, while the pro- 
cesses of motion that take place in the world of objec- 
tive existences, are called the real. 

Dualism looks upon the real and the ideal as two 
distinct worlds which exist independently of each 


other. In the human body, it is conceded, they are 
united into a wonderful harmony. The ideal inhabits 
the real as a house ; the spirit animates the body for 
some time, but it may leave the body, as a prisoner 
leaves his prison, thenceforth to live as a pure spirit. 

Monism looks upon the ideal and the real as two 
inseparable aspects of one and the same fact, they 
are two abstractions made for different purposes and 
abstracted from one and the same indivisible object. 
Monism considers the world as a living actuality, 
which naturally in an evolution from lower to higher 
forms evolves ever higher souls, thus raising the sub- 
jectivity of atomic life to the intellectualit)' of a human 

When we speak of the ideal in man, {ideal is here 
used in the philosophical sense of the purely subjective,) 
we must bear in mind that the ideal and the real do 
not in actual life exclude one another.* Feelings pure 
and simple without their proper physiological conditions 
do not exist ; thoughts without the thinking brain-struc- 
tures in which they take place, are impossible. We 
might just as well speak of movement without a 
moving body. Therefore the ideal by itself, the 
thinking subject, abstract and absolute, is an absur- 
dit3'. It does not exist. The thinking subject is al- 
ways at the same time a bodily object of actual and 
material reality. Not only the thinking subject upon 
the whole, but every detail of the thinking subject's 
feelings, his sensations and thoughts, — every irritation 
felt, every idea thought, — every emotion taking place 
in the empire of the ideal, mean at the same time a 
special modification of nervous substance in the empire 
of the real. The parallelism between the real and the 
ideal is, so far as science has investigated, uncontra- 
dicted and perfect. 

The ideal therefore is a special kind of reality ; 
and indeed it is the most important part, the most 
real and most actual element of reality. The ideal 
in its highest development, being the empire of feeling 
and thinking subjectivity, is the product of organized 
life. The non-organized elements can be said to con- 
tain the germs only, the mere potentiality to bring forth 
the empire of the ideal. In the sensations and thoughts 
of sentient creatures the different objects of reality are 
depicted ; they are mirrored therein as images, as ideas. 
The literal translation of the Greek word idea (eztJo?) is 
image. The ideal is the realm of representations ; and 
the objects represented in the subjectivity of a sentient 
being, are the objective realities of its own body and 
of the things of the surrounding world. 

The existence of the ideal gives meaning and pur- 

* The word rcai may be used in a limited and in a more extended sense. 
In the former sense, when strictly confined to bodily objectivity, it excludes 
the ideal ; in the latter sense, when signifying all facts that can become objects 
of experience, it includes the ideal also. Thoughts and feelings are ideal : 
and yet they are realities. 

pose to the world of bodily realities. Sentient beings 
can make the objects around them subservient to their 
needs and comforts; and man, the firstborn son of 
nature, will have dominion over the earth in propor- 
tion as his ideas are correct images of things and of 
the relations among things. 

The monistic view is thus corroborated through 
those results of psychology which can be considered 
as indubitable facts. An idea, being a bodily struc- 
ture of nervous substance and being situated in the 
centre of the organism, viz., the brain, must be of par- 
amount importance, even if we consider its activity 
as a mere phj'siological process. The brain is the 
capital of the body ; it is the seat of the government, 
whence orders are issued to, and obeyed in, all the 
various provinces of the different organs and limbs. 

Facts being as they are, can we wonder that ideas 
of fear, of worry and anxiety produce pathological 
conditions in the body? 

It is well known that sudden or extraordinary 
terror may kill a person. Goethe describes in his 
Erlking how a child dies from fright in the arms 
of his father riding on horseback through a stormy 
night. The boy imagines that the Erlking is attempt- 
ing to snatch him away and thus he becomes a prey 
of the phantoms of his own imagination. 

Similarly Gottfried Burger describes the death of 
Leonore with masterly accuracy, as if he had studied 
in hospitals the deliriums of fever-patients. Leonore 
expects her betrothed home from the war, but she does 
not find him among those who return. In despair she 
beats her bosom and tears her hair, but in the hush 
of night she hears him knock at the door, she sees 
him enter, his horse is waiting and he takes her along 
over dale and hill, over rivers and mountains far away 
to be married — in the grave. 

There is an old story about a court-fool (which 
may briefly be told without vouching for its truth) that 
was condemned to death by the sword. The duke, 
however, had pardoned him, but had given the order 
not to let him know. The fool's punishment should 
be, to go through all the terrors of execution. The 
executionqr, then, should strike the blow not with a 
sword but with a sausage. When the fool, so the 
story goes, received the harmless stroke, he fell, dead, 
to the ground. He died from the idea of death.* 

The physiological reality of ideas renders it neces-''* 
sary that the ideas of the central soul influence the 
unconscious activity of the peripheral soul. This is 
especially noticeable in certain functions, for instance 
in the movements of the digestive organs, which are 
not under the control of the will, yet are strongly and 
almost immediately influenced by certain states of mind 
in one or another way. Unusual wrath poisons the 

* The story is told in many different versions. 



milk of a mother ; and great excitement so alters the 
secretion of saliva that the bites of infuriated dog;s or 
or other animals become extremely dangerous. 

Almost all h5'pnotists report cases in which burns 
and blisters have been produced by meansof suggestion. 
A certain part of the skin is touched with a harmless 
instrument or with the finger, and after a while an in- 
flammation appears at the very same spot, reprodu- 
cing the exact form of the contact. This proves that 
the trophic functions of the muscles and the skin, 
those functions that build the wasted tissues up again, 
and nourish them, stand in close connection with the 
nerves and depend upon their activity. We do not 
believe that the burn produced through suggestion is 
a real burn ; it is the perturbation of the trophic func- 
tion of the nerves, caused through the idea that a re- 
action is necessar)' against an imaginary wound. 
Thereby redness is produced which has the appear- 
ance of inflammation. 

The blood perspiration attributed to certain saints 
and the appearance of the holy stigmata on their bodies 
must likewise be explained as the results of sugges- 
•tion : they are produced through the auto-suggestion 
of prayer and a strong concentration of the mind. 

While terror, cares, and worry will have injurious 
effects, joyous and gay ideas may in the same way act 
as a medicine for good. The fjrm confidence of a pa- 
tient in his physician, the strong hope of convalescence 
will under otherwise favorable conditions do a great 
deal in curing, and healing, and soothing. The men- 
tal disposition of a patient is of great and incalcul- 
able importance in the cure. 

Man's imagination is no empty nothing ; nor is it a 
mere psychical and purely subjective illusion. Ever}' 
single act of imagination is a real physiological process 
which can be made available to do a certain amount of 
work. There is some truth in the methods of faith- 
cure, yet we should be wary not to overrate the power 
of imagination. Ideas as physiological processes and 
in their physiological effects have a special and limited 
province; and we cannot expect that they should cure 
a cancer or set aright a broken leg. 

Considering the great effects often produced under 
the spell of a properly directed imagination, several 
physicians in France, Switzerland, and in other coun- 
tries have proposed to use hypnotism and suggestion 
as curative methods for all kinds of diseases. They 
have been successful to some extent, although the ex- 
travagant hopes that hj'pnotism might be a panacea 
were by no means fulfilled. On the contrary, all the 
results hitherto obtained, it seems, are such as might 
also have been produced through the bringing on of 
natural sleep. 

Extravagant reports about cures effected by such 
hypnotizers are not beyond the suspicion of self-de- 

lusion, and cannot be accepted without reserve. Most 
of our hypnotizers — among them even some of great 
name — suffer from the same disease as their patients ; 
namely, from illusions. Many cures are effected on 
individuals who have an imaginary disease, which dis- 
appears under the influence of a counter-imagination. 
In such a case the disease as well as the cure is an hal- 
lucination of the patient in which his physician kindly 

There are other cases in which the patient suffers 
from a real disease, which seems to be overcome under 
the influence of hopeful and elevating hallucinations. 
The cure appears to be perfect for a time ; yet there 
comes a relapse after a while against which no faith- 
cure or hypnotism will avail. 

Natural sleep is undoubtedly one of the strongest 
and best curatives. Perhaps it is the very best med- 
icine that can be employed. Hypnotism, it seems to me, 
should be resorted to by the physician only under such 
circumstances where natural sleep cannot be had. 

The wonderful effects of natural sleep will find their 
explanation, if we bear in mind that in the state of 
rest together with the obliteration of consciousness 
the trophic functions of the nerves seem to increase in 
proportion as other activities cease. Sleep, therefore, 
is the state of re-generation, it is the restoration of the 
vitality expended during the period of activity. It is a 
process of hoarding up again in the tissues of the or- 
ganism that potential energy which affords new life 
and fresh vigor to think and to act. p. c. 


The Open Court has received the following works in the 
English language, classed under the head of the Vedania Series, 
published by the Vedanta Publishing House,* of Heeralal Dhole, 
127 Musjeed Bari Street, Calcutta, India. 

1. A Manual of Adwaita Philosophy : The Vedantasara. 
With Commentary. Translated from the Sanskrit by Dr. J\^n}idala/ 

2. The Vicharsagar ; or Metaphysics of the Upanishads. 
Translated into English by Lala Sree-ram Sahib. 

3. The_ Panchadasi. a Handbook of Hindu Pantheism. 
Translated by Dr. Nandalal Dhole. 

4. ViCHARMALA. Translated into English by Lnla Sreeraiii 

5. Shiva Sanhita. The Esoteric Science and Philosophy of 
the Taiitras.\ From the Sanskrit, with notes and a preliminary 
discourse on Yoga Philosophy. By Babu Srish Chunder Vasu. 

6. On the Road to Self-Knowledge. By Srimiil Sankara- 
charya, translated by Ainritalal Basil. 

The uninitiated European reader, naturally, will be somewhat 
startled at the weird and varied titles and subjects of these many 
exotic flowers of the ancient and modern Hindu intellect ; but, in 
reality each and all of these works, either directly or indirectly, 
will be found to bear upon one and same subject — the Philosophy 
of the Vedanta. 

* Orders for these works will be received by The Opea Court Publishing 
Company, Chicago, 111. 

t Tantras are works containing the rules ani mystic practices of the Yoga 
philosophy, for the attainment of superhuman power. 



Through the strenuous efforts o£ modern comparative phi- 
lology, the nations o£ the West are no longer a'together unfamiliar 
with the languages and literature, or even with the religious and 
philosophical systems of ancient India. On the banks of the In- 
dus and the Ganges, the purely physical traits of the descendants 
o! the Aryas, certainly, might have been obscured, or almost ob- 
literated, but the subtle and versatile Aryju ininJ has liv^d forth 
in the sublime profound thought and original genius revealed in 
all the phas.s of ancient and modern Hindu literature. In fact, 
the results of modern comparative philology have at last firmly 
established, that there cannot be said to exist any impassable in- 
tellectual chasm between the western nations and the Hindus. 

The historical evolution of their religion, and subsequently 
of their several philosophical systems, at each advanced step, 
affords exceptionally striking analogies to the corresponding de- 
vilopment of Europe. A few explanatory philological remarks 
may possibly facilitate to the reader the understanding of the 
above-mentioned highly abstruse works, and convince him of their 
piramount importance for the general history of religious anl 
philosophical thought. 

During a long succession of ages the dogmas and ritual of the 
old Vedic religion held undisputed sway in India. The five 
Vedas— the Rigi'cda, Snmaveda, White Yajurveda, Black Yajuivcda, 
and Alharvaveda embodied all the hymns, dogmas, theogony and 
cosmogony, of the Ve die religion ; and somewhat later the oldest 
orthodox theological schools of Maitlras and B>-aIimaiias exclu- 
sively monopolized the interpretation of the Vedas. But in the 
sixth century before Christ there arose the Buddhistic heresy, 
rhij was the first departure from the teachings of of the orthodox 
thejlogicil schools. Buddhism appealed to reason, and by the 
Brahmans it was stigmatized as heresy, as the science of reason — 
hetusastrn. From this time, as a natural sequel to the endless 
controversies with the followers of Buddha, the Brahmans them- 
selves were compelled to construct orthodox philosophical systems, 
and thereupon there arose six schools of Hindu philosophy. They 
were by no means all of them orthodox ; but they all at least 
professed respect for the Vedas. while the Buddhists openly re- 
j cted them. The Sankhya system, attributed to the philosopher 
Kapila, was materialistic and sceptical. It declared matter to be 
eternal, and coexistent with spirit. 

But the most orthodox of these schools was the Vedanta phi- 
losophy. It was constructed upon the teachings of the Vedas, 
and to this day it remains the traditional national philosophy of 
the Hindus. Vidanta literally means 'conclusion,' — or terminat- 
ing sections of the Vedas. These terminating sections are other- 
wise called Upanisliads, which are orthodox commentaries and in- 
terpretations of the doctrine of the Vedas. The Upanishads, thus, 
are short speculative treatises, appended to each of the Vedas, to 
the prodigious number of about 235 ; but only 13 are considered 
as really important. By native authors the word Upanishad is 
derived from the Sanskrit root shad, to destroy : Upanishads are 
suppo ed to destroy ignorance and illusions. But by Professor 
Max Miiller it is derived from sad, to sit down, denoting the idea 
of a session of pupils listening to their teacher. 

The Upanishads, usually, were written in the form of a 
dialogue, — in prose, with occasional snatches of verse. They are 
destitute of system and of strict philosophical methods. Their 
speculation is disconnected and wayward, and is absolutely con- 
trolled by the impulse of the moment. As the learned Professor 
Cowell remarks, the authors are really poets, without the faintest 
thoughts of harmonizing to-day's feelings with those of yesterday 
or to-morrow. Vedanta philosophy, accordingly, signifies the 
d jctrine derived from the Upanishads, and in this wider sense the 
term Vedanta, of course, denotes the end and scope of the Vedas. 
The gist of the metaphysics of the Upanishads— of works like 
the Vichji-sagar, Panchadasi, Vichanimla, recently published in 

Dhole's " Vedanta Series," — is, preeminently, pure spiritualism, 
as diametrically opposed to the materialistic Sankhya philosophy. 
In this series, however, the treatise entitled the J'edaiilasara is 
decidedly the most important. As the name denotes, the Vedan- 
tasara is the essence of the Vedas, and the purest expression of 
Vedantism. It treats of Atma and Paramatma, that is, of individ- 
ual spirit and the absolute. It is a highly condensed and ingenious 
summary of the Upanishads, and of the entire Vedanta philosophy; 
a master-key to the, doctrine of the nonduality of the son/, — the 
giipta vidya, or hidden science, and itself is a master-piece of ph- 
losophical occultism. The world, according to the Vedantasara, is 
not real, substantial, but is made up of Maya, illusion, and avidya, 
ignorance. Only by the destruction of both can man effect the 
innksha, or liberation of the spirit, and the ultimate absorption in 
Brahma. The old Vedic religion and the Upanishads, certainly, 
from the very beginning contained the abundant germs of a 
"hidden science," and this tendency later culminated in the 
abstrus3 categories of the Vedantasara, — itsalf, in its turn, calling 
forth endless interpretations and commentaries. But, even this 
primitive Hindu philosophy, or rather theosophy, was not altogether 
stationary ; its historical evolution was marked by several succes- 
sive phases. The 'ooiid's reality and Brahma's material causativity 
were certainly maintained by the early authors of the Upanishads, 
namely, the Vedantists of the old school. The distinguished San- 
skrit Scholar, Colebrooke, is actually inclined to believe that the 
world's reality was taught by Sankaracharya himself, who is said 
to have lived in the 8th century of our era, and that the doctrine 
of illusion — Maya — is a graft of a later growth. Sankaracharya, • 
at all events, is still a high authority with modern Hindu theoso- 
phists ; but in his work " On the road to self-knowledge, " also pub- 
lished in this Vedanta series, from the tenor of the chapter entitled 
Paramarthasara, it would be hazardous to conclude that he really 
belonged to the Vedantists of the old school. 

It is superfluous to dwell upon the intrinsic merits of all these 
English versions and their accompanying introductions, notes, and 
commentaries. The translators are highly competent native 
Sanskrit scholars, but several of these works, as the Vicharmala , 
Panchadasi, and Vicharsagar, — all of them more or less compre- 
hensive compendiums of the metaphysics of the Upanishads, — have 
been translated from the Hindi, in which they originally had been 

It seems particularly worthy of -notice, that translators and 
publishers alike claim to have been prompted to their undertaking 
by national and patriotic motives, and by the alarming spread of 
materialism in India. In the interest of both spiritualism and 
Hindu nationalism the translators ardently advocate even that 
hybrid, extravagant theosophy, which long has been associated 
with the names of Col. Olcott and Mrae Blavatsky, and, at the 
same time, they profess their absolute emancipation from the nar- 
row views of the old Hindu schools. " The twice-born," they say, 
' ' has retired from the conspicuous position of his ancestors behind 

the desk of a government office or a merchant's counter 

Materialism has supplanted idealism At this momentous 

conjuncture Olcott, the president founder of the theosophical 
society, and Mme. Blavatsky appeared in India, and by their in- 
cessant efforts stimulated the study of the truths of the ancient 

Hindu religion — in fact, of all ancient religions What is 

theosophy ? It is not a new term, coined by Olcott or Blavatsky." 
The most recent Hindu theosophical brotherhood " includes men 
of all nationalities It is no religion, it has no religious belief. It 
is simply the highest development of a particular system of phi- 
losophy, helping the individual to realize his latent powers hy a par- 
ticular method of study and practice (yoga)." 

In other words, recent Hindu theosophy, admittedly is practic- 
ally a form of occultism, mainly based upon the exaggerated yoga- 
practice of a degenerate Vedantism. 



But, we readily admit, that despite many repellent features, 
the European student of religious philosophies ought ' ' to dive deep 
into all these works, and try to pick up what gems he may find in 
them. Even among those who cannot find, many will be none the 
worse, but considerably better for the diligent search." 




To the Editor of The Open Court : — 

In reply to the letters from Mrs. E. O. Smith and Prof. E. D. 
Cope, in The Open Court for February 20th, I must say that I am 
still opposed to banishing our colored citizens to Africa, 

A good reason why this should not be done is furnished by 
Mrs. Smith when she calls them "a people with civilized in- 
stincts." She is living among them, and I accept her testimony 
gratefully. If we must banish anybody, it should be people with- 
out civilized instincts. She makes this objection to my article of 
February 6th : "The writer is mistaken when he says that the 
negro population of the country were largely opposed to emigra- 
tion." But I never said that they were opposed to emigrating in 
any direction. While slavery existed, they showed so much desire 
and capacity for emigrating to the free North, as form strong evi- 
dence in favor of their fitness for being permitted to remain citizens 
of the United States. They were also strongly in favor, at that 
time, of emigrating to Hayti. As I said, they were unwilling, even 
then, to emigrate to Africa. No sooner was the Colonization So- 
ciety organized for that purpose, by the election of officers, in Jan- 
uary, 1S17, than resolutions of protest were passed, that same 
month, by meetings of the free colored people of Richmond, Vir- 
ginia, as well as by those of Philadelphia, where the opposition 
was repeated that August. These were the "earliest remon- 
strances," and they were made more than ten years before Garri- 
son was -converted from a friend to an enemy of colonization. 
" Some of his colored friends in Baltimore were the first to point 
out to him its dangerous character and tendency." One of these 
negroes published articles against the Society, in 182S, and signed 
himself ' ' A Colored Baltimorean. " This was two years and a half 
before The Liberator began, and four years before the publication 
of Mr. Garrison's Thoughts on African Colonization, a pamphlet 
containing a long series of public protests from colored people 
Mr. Thompson's conversion is of still later date. These facts are 
taken from the first volume of Garrison's life, by his sons (pp. 147, 
297, etc.). 

The Professor takes up most of my objections to his plan, but 
not the serious one of expense. It seems to me the duty of the 
proposer of so vast a scheme to state how much it would cost, and 
then to prove that our government could afford to pay the bill. He 
joins issue with me on the question whether the negro could be 
spared from the South. Mr. Douglass says he could not ; and I 
suspect it would be hard to supply other laborers, who do so much 
good work for so little money. Here again, however, the burden 
of proof lies on my antagonist ; and I leave it for him to say who 
are ready to fill the vacancy he wishes to make. When he an- 
swers this question, I hope he will give particular attention to " the 
black bottoms," and other localities, notoriously unWalthy for 
white men, but extremely productive under negro labor. 

I insist on these points, because I am not ' ' a pure idealist, " but 
am trying to get this question into such a shape that it may be settled 
in a common-sense way. For this reason, I meet what is said 
about the inferiority of the black race to the white, in " mental 
status " and anatomical structure, by asking to be told precisely, 
what provision is made, either by the laws of the land, or by the 

precepts of any system of morality, for the banishment of inferior 
races by superior ones. 

I am glad to see my opponent acknowledge his plan to be un- 
constitutional ; but he does not say how he is going to get round 
this obstacle which seems to me to settle the question. He still 
brings up the dangers of negro rule and race-mixture. He does 
not, however, refer to the fact, that the latter peril is on the de- 
crease, according to the testimony of Dr. Haygood and Mr. Moise. 
What is still more important, from a practical point of view, is 
the restraint imposed on mixed marriages by State laws. There 
has been very little danger of negro rule for the last fifteen years. 
The methods adopted to overthrow it have certainly been suf- 
ficiently effective ; and, bad as they were, they do not seem to me so 
wicked as it would be to treat a whole race of inoffensive citizens 
in the cruel way that England treated felons, until she grew too 
philanthropic. Fortunately, we are not reduced to such a terrible 
choice, as that between intimidation and banishment. The present 
condition of the District of Columbia, where no resident votes, 
whether black or white, shows the just and wise way to govern a 
community, whose inhabitants cannot govern themselves satis- 
factorily. A similar plan has, I think, been adopted in some 
counties of North Carolina, where the officials are appointed by the 
state. These measures were taken expressly to keep negroes out 
of politics ; but it ought to be remembered that a similar step has 
been taken in at least one city where there are but few colored 
people. The Boston police are now iwder Commissioners chosen 
by the Governor. This may not be the best possible plan ; but is 
it not better than it would be to banish the entire population of 
both Boston and Washington to Africa ? 

It would be no more unjust to banish all the people of a city, 
than to banish a whole race. If either proceeding would be worse 
than the other, it would be that proposed against the eight millions. 
To banish all our colored citizens, even the most intellectual, 
enterprising, and patriotic, because some of them are too anxious 
to vote, and others too willing to intermarry, would be like the way 
that Herod adopted in hope of getting rid of a political peril in 
Bethlehem. The loss of life in that little village could not have been 
more than a trifle in comparison with what would be caused by the 
great voyage. If there is any injustice in this comparison, it is 
that of judging poor old Herod by modern standards. The time, 
when there could be any excuse for inflicting wholesale punish- 
ments upon millions of victims, went by long ago. If there is any 
race in this country which has more right than another to protest 
against such an outrage, it is the people whose ancestors were 
brought here by force and then kept in slavery. The greatness of 
the wrongs which were then heaped upon them, ought to protect 
them against all future discriminations to their injury. If it is 
necessary to offer up millions of exiles on the altar of Liberty, let 
us not take the blacks, but the most vicious and degraded of their 

Fortunately, however, the age of human sacrifice closed long 
ago. Our country's altar is not that of Moloch. The only way to 
treat vicious and degraded people, whether white or black, is to 
reform and elevate them. The duty of a superior race to an in- 
ferior one is to educate and develop it, as the mother does the 
child. There may be some doubt as to what should be done with 
races which do not wish to be civilized ; but there should be none 
in the case of a race which has shown an unusual capacity for 
accepting civilization. If the negro has been found more able to 
imitate higher races than to make progress independently, that is 
a strong reason for keeping him under elevating influences, and not 
sending him away to relapse into barbarism. If he is still subject 
to " degrading vices and maddening superstitions, " then this fact 
would make i^ peculiarly wicked for us, to take away his strongest 
restraints, and fling him into the midst of temptation. If "the 
negro has conspicuously failed in all but absolute governments," 

2 134 


we have no right to force him to choose once more between despo- 
tism and anarchy in Africa. All these pretexts for sending the 
negro into exile, are really reasons why he should continue to 
remain among us. If he needs instruction, let him have all he will 
take ; but what he needs most is full liberty to use the opportunities 
of improvement, which our country gives to all her citizens. He 
is not so much our inferior as to be unable to improve himself, if 
he is still allowed a chance to do so in America. He has a " natural 
right," or rather a moral one, to use all the advantages of living 
here, as freely as any other citizen ; and it will not, I hope, be dis- 
courteous for me to say plainly that I cannot help looking at any 
attempt, or threat, to deprive him of this right, as morally wrong. 

F. M. Holland. 
Concord, Mass., Feb. 25th. 


To the Editor of The Open Court :— 

The articles by Dr. Cope and Gen. Trumbull I he Keturii of 
the Negroes to Africa, and Waste of Time in Congress,- are of the 
highest local and present interest. Underneath the ethics of those 
articles lie the universal verities at which your journal is aimed. 
The recent assassination of a United States official in Florida has 
called attention anew to the mass of corruption that festers around 
public and official business in the United States. The Trumbull 
paper would do good issued as a tract to the people. It is impos- 
sible to get at the truth in any secular journal. 

Mrs. E, Oakes Smith's voice on the Negro Question seems 
too much like one out of the past. I have lived twelve years among 
the colored people of Florida since their emancipation. To say 
that Liberty has been thrust upon them and that they receive it 
without dignity, that they utter complaints and make statements 
known to be false, I must dissent from. Personally, I know that 
a thousand colored men in this state were willing during the Civil 
War to spring to arms, the moment the Government was forced to 
take their help. Personally, I know they do their duty by the 
ballot wonderfully well in contrast to the languid indifference of 
many who were born to it. Laboring colored men among my 
neighbors in Florida walk miles to the office of registration to in- 
sure their exercise of the ballot. What white voters do this or 
would be expected to do it ? 

It is interesting to read the two phases of the question pre- 
sented by such able minds as Mr. Holland and Dr. Cope. In the 
' ' broken arcs " of their individual views we shall come very closely 
to seeing the "perfect round" of truth. 

But first the ideal and afterward the physical. We do not 
" bow to the physical fact," and we -loill not, any more than we 
did twenty years ago to the physical fact of the Slave market un- 
der a Government that proclaimed freedom on its flag. The ideal 
then asserted its right to be and made its claim good. Let us trust 
the ideal even though the physical fact oppose it as it usually 
does. The ideal is eternal, the physical fact changes and passes. 
Let justice be done though the heavens fall. 

By what natural right can one or many enter my house and 
tell me to pack up and return to the land of my forefathers, which 
they left but a brief century and a half ago. Who owns the world 
or the people in it, that one dictated by fears can say to them, go 
here or go there. 

The dangers of this question have been carefully discussed 
for half a century and looking on the past we may trust the future, 
if we do our whole duty as a nation. If the nation staggered and 
failed thirty years ago at the proposition to purchase the slaves 
when they were three millions, what can it do now that they are 
six millions, and children of the soil ? The old Hebrew Song, 
"The earth is the Lord's," rings in my ears at th^ thought of 
warning away six million Americans from our fenced-off province. 

We will trust the ideal, and the physical fact will soon be found to 
fall into line with it. Colored Americans will stay in America, 
and we must adjust ourselves to the fact. 

Very truly yours, 
Waltham, Mass. Mary Gunning. 


To the Editor of The Open Court : — 

A SHORT article by Mr. Paul R. Shipman in The Open Court oi 
Feb. 13, contains a mistake so glaring that it were a pity to leave 
it unchallenged. 

The probability of an event is defined as the ratio of the whole 
number of events to the number which satisfy the conditions in 
question, when the whole number is increased without limit. 
Strictly we must not say that, since there are six j*<'j.f((5/(? throws 
with a die, the probability of any given throw is one-sixth unless 
we have previously concluded from considerations of symmetry 
that in a very large number of throws there must be the same 
number of each throw, and consequently that the ratio of the whole 
number of throws to the number of a particular throw must be 
one-sixth. If indeed we should find that this is not the ratio when 
the number of throws is increased without limit, then the proba- 
bility of that throw cannot be one-sixth. If the number of heads 
and tails approach equality when the number of throws with a 
coin is increased without limit, then the probability of either is 
one-half — the heads or tails being half the whole number. 

The criterion of the approximate equality of two numbers 

a and b is not that a — b = nearly zero, but that = nearly unity. 

Indeed two numbers each exceedingly small may differ by an 
exceedingly small quantity ; i. e., « — /' may be very nearly equal 

to zero while - may be as large as we please. Again with very large 

numbers a — /' may be as large as we please, while - is at the same 

time as nearly equal to unity as we please. 

For example if a man promises Sio, and has but $1, we think 
he falls far short of his obligations, but if he were to promise $100 
and have S91, or if he were to promise Ji, 000, 060 and have 
Sggg.ggi we would think much lessof it. 

Of course, in some cases we may -find it more significant to 
judge of an approximate equality by the condition a — /' ^ o 
nearly ; while in other cases it is far more significant to judge by 

means of the condition - = nearly unity. 

And this latter criterion is the only one that retains any sig- 
nificance, when a and b are either very large or very small. Hence 
to say that the number of heads and tails of a symmetrical coin 
approach equality means that their ratio approaches unity. 

Mr. Shipman is decidedly mistaken when he claims the influ- 
ence of antecedents upon probability, and he does an injustice to 
Bernoulli in making him appear to sustain this false position. 

The /('jj//'////i' of multiplying together two denominate num- 
bers rests entirely upon convention as to the interpretation of the 
product. Physicists have discarded the school-boy notion of this 
impossibility and have long since admitted the significance of such 
length mass x (length)z 

expressions as : , (length) 2 , , 

time (time)2 

and many others. The significance of these may be understood, 
when we consider that all physical quantities are conceived to 
depend upon fundamental units of length, mass, and time. 



(length) J2 (mass)'2 


signifies either a quantity of magnetism or a quantity of free elec- 
tricity, according to convention. We would read the above as : 
The square root of a cube of a length multiplied by the square 
root of a mass divided by a time. 

This sounds very wonderful, but the simplicity of it is best 
illustrated by an example. 

If a body is moving at a velocity of 


(read feet per sec.) and if it travels for 10 sec, then it will travel 


150 X 10 sec 


= 1500 feet, since time cancels. Of course one may beat around 

the bush and finally reduce this operation to multiplying by the 

pure number 10, but the convenience of considering a velocity 


is very great. In the case of electrical and magnetic quantities the 
principle is just as simple, and as purely conventional, but of course 
far more complicated. 

That branch of algebra called quaternions is built upon a con- 
ception of the product of complex quantities ; e. g. , a meaning is 
conceived of the product of two lines, or of any two quantities 
which include both size and direction, or indeed any two numer- 
ical specifications whatever. 

University of Kansas. M. S. Franklin. 


To the Editor of The Open Court : — 

Prof. Cope in his otherwise able article commits the error 
men always do when discussing the " Woman question." That of 
supposing clever women desire to be " manish." There is nothing 
in man's nature or condition to make true women wish to give up 
their birthright ; for as a woman advances in intelligence she real- 
ises a sex in mind, and finds that woman is the broader, higher, finer, 
the natural complement of man. Woman having finer mental and 
moral perceptions elevates ; man adds strength, and both are raised 
in tone. Man concentrates bis force in one direction, attains 
knowledge to that end, but cares for nothing outside his trade or 
profession. Woman by nature and environment is many-sided, 
educated in various directions, and if necessity demands concentra- 
tion, can assimilate this knowledge. Mental antagonism between 
the sexes is unwise, a womanly woman is always strong, as is a 
manly man ; they cannot attempt to change places, without be- 
coming a monstrosity repellent to all. The problem for man is to 
overcome a latent jealousy, for woman to emancipate herself and 
lift man, for as the women are so will the men be. The true re- 
lations are side by side each dominant in their own place, neither 
subordinate. And when women recognize but one code of morals 
for both, man will be her fitting companion, and marriage will 
not be a failure. This will come. The start has been made. Mothers 
are the real educators. I hope some abler and more experienced 
pen will take up this matter, for nothing can be trivial that affects 
the good of the race. The mistake of most women's organizations 
is they work for men. This without the ballot is fighting windmills. 
This relic of the dark ages will pass away, and women will see that 
raising the moral status of their own sex elevates all. Man isolated 
from good female influence reverts to savagery, as witness the 
last known Siberian atrocity — against helpless womanhood that 
should rouse Christendom to protest. Mary Brown. 

Greenfield, O. 


The Science of the Christ. By Ursula A'. GestcfelJ. Chicago ; 
i88g. Central Music Hall. 

The title of this book is a new form of expression for the sys- 
tem which has become familiar under the name of "Christian 
Science." It is an attempt to explain in a spiritual sense the oc- 
cult meaning of the Scriptures, and in the language of the author, 
" it is intended to be a key to the true nature of the Bible." 

According to this book, the statements of the Bible "are 
forms or figurative expressions making problems which reveal 
their principle when solved." The author claims that it is no 
more necessary that those statements be true than that the form 
of a mathematical problem should be true. As, for instance, a boy 
had four apples, and gave two of them to his sister, how many did 
he have left ? Whether or not the boy gave any apples to his sis- 
ter, is of no consequence. That statement is merely a form of 
puttirig the mathematical problem ' two from four, how many re- 
main?' In like manner, we are told there is an occult truth in 
every statement of the Bible, no matter whether the statement be 
true or not. This occult meaning may be discovered by those who 
have sufficient spiritual insight to solve the problem. 

All that is ingenious, but it is an easy thing to force upon any 
passage in the Bible a selected meaning. Unfortunately for the 
argument, the Bible is a statement and a record, except in those 
parts of it where a purely spiritual or figurative meaning is evident. 
The Bible cannot be dissolved into metaphysical mist by the exor- 
cism of words. It appears further, that this hidden meaning of 
the Bible can be discerned only by those endowed with the special 
gift of psychological perception, or according to the author's way 
of stating it, "if this perception is not self-evident truth, there is 
no way of proving it true to the one who lacks the perception." 

Mrs. Gestefeld says that "the book called Genesis contains 
in the form of narratives a complete statement in outline of Di- 
vine Science, or the Science of the Christ." On this foundation 
she has built her book. It is rickety and infirm on its pedestal, 
because the author .starts by misunderstanding the bo k of Gan- 
esis, and the titles of the deity expressed therein. The whole 
stream of her argument flows out of a mistake, and it is therefore 
tainted throughout its entire length by the errors at the fountain. 

In this book, God is declared to be " The One Mind," "The 
One Intelligence," " The One Spirit," "The One Life," "The 
One Substance," " The One Soul," " The One I Am." This defi- 
nition is contradicted when the author discovers two Gods in the 
book of Genesis, having allowed herself to be misled by the two 
different expres ions used in that book to describe the one deity. 
Her mistake is like that which might be made by some reader of 
American history in future ages, who should imagine that Pres- 
ident George Washington and General George Washington are 
two persons. 

Some of the spiritual meanings which Mrs, Gestefeld finds in 
the statements made in Genesis are poetical and interesting, al- 
though somewhat fanciful and overstrained ; as, for instance, her 
speculative guess at what the Bible means by the "two great 
lights " mentioned in the first chapter. Mrs. Gestefeld says, " The 
two great lights are Spiritual Perception and Intellect ;" 

"The lesser light— Intellect, with its powers and capabilities, with the 
' stars,' or lesser lights. Reason, Judgment, etc.,— rules the night ; or the dark- 
ness which is seeing — looking at, only." 

This may be a correct metaphysical explanation of the " two 
great lights," but it will hardly displace the obvious meaning of 
the language used in Genesis that they are the visible Sun and 
Moon, and that God made them on the fourth day. We distort 
the meaning of Scripture instead of explaining it, when we say 
that "the two great lights" are anything else than the Sun and 
Moon, and that the " stars " are mere abstract human qualities, 

2 1^6 


" Reason, Judgment, etc., and not the actual stars now shinirif 'n 
the sky.' 

All the confusion grows out of the mistake that Chapters i, ii, 
and iii of Genesis are a continuous narrative by the same writer, 
when it is plainly evident that Chapters ii and iii contain a different 
account of the events recorded in Chapter i. The two composi- 
tions are entirely unlike in statement, style, taste, and idiom. 
They are by two different authors and the writer of one account 
lived in an age remotely distant from that of the other. They use 
a different nomenclature to describe the deity, and this apparent 
duplication of names has involved Mrs. Gestefeld in a labyrinth of 
metaphysical complications out of which she never contrives to 
escape. It will be seen at a glance that what ought to be the three 
last verses of Chapter i in Genesis have been cut off, and prefixed 
to Chapter ii. Restoring these to Chapter i, and skipping over 
to Chapter v, we have a narrative coherent and continuous. 
Chapter i flows naturally and logically into Chapter v, and these 
were undoubtedly written by the same author. Verses 25 and 26 
of Chapter iv are an interpolation made to connect Seth with Cain 
and Abel. The writer of the fifth chapter of Genesis knew nothing 
of Cain and Abel as is plain from his opening statement, " This is 
the book of the generations of Adam." In that book there is no 
mention of either Cain or Abel. 

Chepter i was written when the title of the Creator was sim- 
ply "God." Chapter ii was written when the title was 'Lord 
God." These are merely two different names, not two different 
Gods. In Chapter iv the title is " Lord." They all refer to the one 
supreme deity. It is curious that leaving out Chapters ii and iii, 
we do not find the titles " Lord" and " God " united until Noah's 
benediction, " Blessed be the Lord God of Shem " ; and not again 
until the time of Abraham ; although they are used separately and 
interchangeably, meaning the same deity. This is proved by the 
speech of Abraham, "I have lift up mine hand unto the Lord, the 
most high God." 

Having firmly adopted the mistake about the two Gods, Mrs. 
Gestefeld explains their separate offices, attributes, and powers, 
and thinks that God, or as she terms it "God— Mind," having 
created the Heavens and the Earth, in the Abstract daring the six 
days, the " Lord God" then made them in the Concrete on the 
seventh day. She says ; " And in this seventh day the Lord Crod 
makes the earth and the heavens. Through this process the ab- 
stract earth becomes the concrete earth, and not until then is the 
work finished." Becoming more and more entangled, she con- 
cludes at last that the " Lord God" is man ; "As the product of 
the seventh day's work, Man, or the Lord God, makes the other 
earth for himself." "Man — the Image — the Lord God, has not a 
Mind — a mind of his own, for there is but One ; and that One 
Mind is God." 

The meanings given by Mrs. Gestefeld to Scripture passages, 
are purely fanciful. No evidence is offered that these are the cor- 
rect meanings, and very little argument is presented beyond ihe 
confident assertions of the author. T. 

The Ethics of the Hebrew Scriptures. Arranged and edi.ed 
by Isaac S. Moses and Adolf h Moses. Chicago ; E. Rubo\'its 
and Bro. 

A most meritorious publication ; a book that can be used as a 
text-book for liberal Sunday Schools and excellently adapted for 
ethical instruction. It is, as the title says, a collection of moral 
gems extracted from the Bible. The translation, it appears, is that 
of the King James's edition, with a few alterations, and the division 
of lines according to their poetical structure, makes it very read- 

It is to be regretted that no critical or explanatory remarks 
concerning the different authors have been added. They would 

have brought their sayings and their wisdom so much more home 
to us. 

Why have not Christians brought out a similar book long ago? 
If the reverend Rabbis had added the best gems from the New 
Testament, which in part will certainly remind them of HiLlel and 
others of their own sages, it would have added to the value of the 

It would be difficult to point, in any of the current numbers 
of our special magazines, to a more interesting and varied collection 
of essays on philosophical subjects than is to be found in the last 
number of the Proceedings of the Aristotelian- Society for the Syste- 
matic Study of Philosophy (London : Williams cS: Norgate. Ed- 
itor, Prof. W. R. Dunstan, M. A.). Its contents are as follows: 
"Common Sense Philosophies," by Shadworth H. Hodgson, 
LL. D ; " The Stand-Point and First Conclusions of Scholastic 
Philosophy," by M. H. Dziewicki ; " The Philosophy of Revela- 
tion," by Rev. J. Lightfoot, M. A., D. Sc ; "Do Separate Psy- 
chological Functions require Separate Physiological Organs?" by 
Bernard Hollander ; Symposium : ' ' What Takes Place in Volun- 
tary Action ?" (i) by J. S. Mann, M. A., Fellow and Lecturer of 
Trinity College, Oxford, (2) by Pasco Daphne, LL. B., (3) by 
Bernard Bosanquet ; "The Part Played by .(Esthetic in the 
Growth of Modern Philosophy," by Bernard Bosanquet ; " Proclus 
and the Close of Greek Philosophy," by F. C. Conybeare, Fellow 
of University College, Oxford; " The Psychology of Sport and 
Play," by A. M. Ogilvie ; Symposiiiin : "The Nature of Force," 
(i) by G. Johnstone Stoney, F. R. S., (2) by Professor Alexander 
Bain, LL D., (3) by Professor W. R. Dunstan, M. A. Mr. Bo- 
sanquet's essay on .'Esthetic in the Growth of Modern Philosophy is 
an able piece of work. Although a very minor matter, we are 
glad to see Dr. Stoney divide the word noi/menal iato four syllables 
thus : noiimenal ; our readers will remember the discussion in The 
Open Court with reference to this syllabic distinction. 

The interest of the general reading public is becoming more 
and more aroused to the importance of psychological invettiga- 
tions, and is a pleasing sign that the popular want of scientific ex- 
planations of the isolated facts and phenomena -of soul-life is be- 
ing promptly recognized and responded to by our great magazines. 
Scribner's for March contains a highly instructive and popular re- 
sume of modern researches in the field of plural personality, by Prof 
William James, of Harvard, entitled The Hidden Self. And the 
Century for the same month publishes a concise and lucid little 
monograph by Prof. H. C. Wood, on Memory. Both essays con- 
tain suggestions of value to an understanding of psycho- physiolog- 
ical pioblems. 

The Home Journal, which is undoubtedly familiar to the ma- 
jority of our readers as an exemplar of literary neatness and sim- 
plicity, has shown remarkable good sense in reducing the size of 
its formerly huge pages to the ordinary large folio measure. The 
Home Journal, which was founded in 1846 by Geo. P. Morris and 
N. P. Willis, seems assured of a long continued, and merited, suc- 
cess. (New York, 240 Broadway.) 


Mr. William R. Thayer, of Cambridge, Mass., contributes to 
the March ^/A;k/k a' graphic account of " The Trial, Opinions, 
and Death of Giordano Bruno." Our readers will enjoy the peru- 
sal of this article from Mr. Thayer's pen. 

N. B. — The Open Court will be sent six weeks, free of 
charge, upon application, to persons who, before subscribing, de- 
sire to become thoroughly acquainted with its objects and work. 
It will also be sent to persons whose names may be recommended 
to us for this purpose. Address The Open Court Pub. Co., 
Chicago, 111. 

The Open Court 


Devoted to the ^A/■ork: of Conciliating Religion with Science 

No. 133. (Vol IV.-3. 

CHICAGO, MARCH 13, 1890. 

j Two Dollars per Yea 
I Single Copies, lo Cts 


This world of ours is a world of strife. Wherever 
we turn our eyes, there is war and competition and 
struggle. Battles are fought not only in human so- 
ciety, but in animal society also ; not only in the ani- 
mal kingdom, but in the plant kingdom ; not onl)' in 
the empire of organized life, but in the realm of inor- 
ganic life — between the ocean and the land, between 
water and air, among minerals, and among the dif- 
ferent formations of mineral bodies, among planets 
and planetar)' systems, among suns and clusters of 
suns. Strife is identical with life, and struggle is the 
normal state of actual existence. 

We can easily understand that a superficial ob- 
server of nature will feel inclined to look upon life as 
a chaotic jungle without rhyme or reason, in which 
the wildest hap-hazard and fortuitous chance rule su- 
preme. A closer inspection, however, will show that 
there is after all order in the general turmoil and that a 
wonderful harmon}' results from the conflict of antag- 
onistic principles. Nay, we shall learn that all order 
proceeds from the antagonism of factors that work in 
opposite directions. It is the centrifugal and centrip- 
etal forces that shape our earth and keep it in equilib- 
rium. It is attraction and repulsion that govern the 
changes of chemistry. Gravitation throws all things 
into one centre, and radiation disperses the store of 
energy collected in that centre. And the same antith- 
esis of hostile principles manifests itself in love and 
hate, in surfeit and hunger, in hope and fear. 

There are many people who are not satisfied with 
this state of things. They dream of a paradise where 
there is no strife, no war, no conflict ; where there is 
eternal peace, unmixed happiness, joy without pain, 
and life without struggle. Whenever you try to de- 
pict in your imagination such a condition of things, 
}'ou will find that a world of eternal peace is an im- 
possibility. The world in which life does not signify 
a constant struggle is not a heaven of perfection (as 
is imagined), but the cloudland of Utopia, an impos- 
sible state of fantastical contradictions. Should you 
succeed in realizing in imagination the dream of your 
ideal of peace without inconsistency, it will turn out 
to be the Nirvana of absolute non-existence, the 
silence of the grave, the eternal rest of death. 

Natural science teaches that hate is inversed love 

and repulsion inversed attraction. Annihilate one 
principle and the other vanishes. Both principles are 
one and the same in opposite directions. Thus they 
come into conflict and their conflict is the process of life. 
Science does away with all dualism. The dualistic view 
appears natural to a crude and child-like mind. The 
Indian might say that heat is not cold and cold is 
not heat, yet the man who learns to express tempera- 
ture by the exact measurement of a thermometer must 
abandon the duality of the two principles. Monism is 
established as soon as science commences to weigh 
and to measure. The divergence in the oneness of 
existence creates the two opposed principles, which 
are the factors that shape the world, and the en- 
counter of conflicting factors is the basis from which 
all life arises with its pains and joys, its affliction and 
happiness, with its battles, defeats, and victories. 

The world being a world of struggle, life teaches 
us the lesson that we live in order to fight ; we must 
not blink at this truth, for we cannot shirk the com- 
bat. Ethics, accordingly, if it is true ethics, and prac- 
tical ethics, must above all be an ethics of strife. It 
must teach us how to struggle, how to fight, how to 
aspire. In order to teach us the /low, it must show us 
the goal that is to be striven for, and the ideal which 
we should pursue. 

The progress of civilization changes the weapons 
and abolishes barbaric practices ; yet it will never 
abolish the struggle itself. The struggle will become 
more humane, it will be fought without the unneces- 
sary waste which accompanies the rude warfare of the 
savage, but even a golden era of peace and social 
order will continue to remain an unceasing strife and 
competition. You cannot abolish competition even 
in the most complete co-operative system. There 
will always remain the struggle for occupying this or 
that place, and the competition for proving to be the 
fittest will continue so long as the world lasts ; and 
it is the plan of nature to let the fittest survive. 

There are ethical teachers who imagine that the 
purpose of ethics is the suppression of all struggle, 
who depict a state of society where there is pure 
altruism without conflicting interests, a state of mutual 
love, a heaven of undisturbed happiness. 

The ethics of pure altruism is just as wrong as the 
ethics of pure egotism. For it is our duty to stand 



up manfully in battle and to wage the war of honest 
aspirations. It is the duty of a manufacturer to com- 
pete with his competitors. It is the duty of the 
scholar, the philosopher, and the artist to rival the 
work of his co-laborers ; and the progress of humanity 
is the result of this general warfare. Organized life 
from its lowliest beginnings developed higher and 
higher by a continued struggle ; and it is not the 
victor alone to whom the evolution of ever higher and 
higher organisms is due, but to the vanquished also. 
The victor has gained new virtues in every strife, and 
it is the brave resistance of the vanquished that taught 
him these virtues. 

There is an old saga of a northern hero, to whose 
soul, it is said, were added all the souls of the enemies 
he slew. The strength, the accompHshments, the 
abilities of the conquered became the spoils of the 
conqueror ; and the spirits of the slain continued to 
live in the spirit of the victor, and made him stronger, 
nobler, wiser, better. This myth correctly represents 
the natural state of things, and we learn from it the 
great truth, that our efforts, even if we are the unfor- 
tunate party that is to be vanquished, will not be in 
vain ; our lives are not spent in uselessness, if we but 
struggle bravely and do the best we can in the battle 
of life. Furthermore, we learn to respect our adver- 
saries and to honor their courage. We are one factor 
only on the battlefield, and if our enemies existed not, 
we would not be what we are. We are one part only 
of the process of life and our enemies are the counter- 
part. Any contumely that we put upon them in fool- 
ish narrow-mindedness, debases and degrades our- 
selves ; any dishonesty that we show in fight, falls 
back upon ourselves. It will injure our enemies, as 
was intended, but it will do greater harm to ourselves, 
for it will disgrace us ; and our disgrace in that case 
will outlive the injury of our enemies. 

Ethics teaches us that all struggle must be under- 
taken in the service of a higher and greater cause than 
our egoistic self. He alone will conquer who fights for 
something greater than his personal interests ; and 
even if he be vanquished, he will still have the satis- 
faction that his ideal is not conquered with him. He 
will find successors to continue his work. His ideal, 
if it be a genuine ideal, will rise again in his succes- 
sors and they will accomplish a final victory for his 

The Teutonic nations, — the Anglo-Saxons, the 
Franks, the Germans and their kin, — are, it appears, in 
many respects the most successful peoples in the world, 
because of their stern ethics of undaunted struggle to 
which they have adhered since prehistoric times. It 
was no disgrace for the Teutonic warrior to be slain, no 
dishonor to be vanquished ; but it was infamy worse 
than death to be a coward, it was a disgrace to gain 

a victory by dishonest means. The enemy was re- 
lentlessly combated, may be he was hated, yet it would 
have been a blot on one's escutcheon to treat him with 
meanness. It was not uncommon among these bar- 
barians for the victor to place a laurel wreath upon 
the grave of his foe, whom in life he had combated 
with bitterest hatred. There is an episode told in the 
Nibeiungensaga which characterizes the ethical spirit 
of the combativeness of Teutonic heroes. Markgrave 
Riidiger has to meet the g»im Hagen and to do him 
battle. Seeing, however, that his enemy's shield is 
hacked to pieces, he offers him his own, whereupon 
they proceed to fight. 

The moral teacher must not be blind to the laws of 
life. Ethics must not make us weak in the struggle 
for existence, but it must teach us the way to fight and 
must show us the higher purpose to be realized by 
our struggle. 

Naturalists give us most remarkable reports about 
the degeneration of those organs and their functions 
and abilities which are not used. If man could live 
without reason, without education, language, without 
reason, mankind would soon degenerate into dumb 

T)o not attempt to preach a morality that would de- 
prive man of his backbone. Man acquired his back- 
bone because in the struggle for life he had to stand 
upright, thus to keep his own. If it were possible 
at all to lead a life without struggle, the backbone of 
man would soon become a rudimentary organ. But 
as it is not possible, those men alone will survive that 
are strong characters, that stand upright in the strug- 
gle and fight with manly honesty and noble courage. 
The men with a moral backbone alone are those to 
whom the future belongs. 

Ethics must teach us how to struggle ; it must not 
hinder us in the combat but help us. And ethics will 
help us. Ethics demands that we shall never lose 
sight of the whole to which we belong. It teaches us 
never to forget the aim which humanity attains through 
the efforts of our conflicting interests ; it inculcates the 
lesson to do our duty in the battle of life, not only be- 
cause this is required by our own interests, but be- 
cause it is the law of life that we have to obey. By a 
faithful obedience to the ethics of the struggle for life, 
we shall promote the welfare of mankind and contrib- 
ute to the enhancement of human progress. 



Through a valued friend, a French priest, well ac- 
quainted with my heresies, I received an invitation to 
"assist" at the Consistory in the Vatican, December 
30, 1889. The only conditions imposed were that my 



ladies should appear in black, with veils for bonnets, 
and I in evening dress, with white cravat. I did not 
attend in any antagonistic spirit. On my way to the 
Vatican I almost wondered that no "survival" of the 
horror of "Romanism," in which I was nurtured, gave 
any stir within me. But my cab happening to be 
blocked in front of Hadrian's castellated mausoleum, 
I gazed on the great bronze archangel above it, sheath- 
ing his sword after the plague he was supposed to 
have caused, and found in it a symbol of the sheathed 
sword of papal dominion. The temporal power is for- 
ever sheathed, however compulsory the scabbard. 
When the battle is over the victors may fairly indulge 
themselves in magnanimity. Those who fear that the 
sword may be unsheathed again, may keep their weap- 
ons. Having no such fear I throw mine away. To-day, 
I said, bygones shall be bygones. To-day, freedom is 
even less liable to be harmed by Catholicism than by 
Protestantism ; and apart from political freedom, where 
is the advantage ? Why should I prefer Jehovah to 
Mary, or the bottomless Pit to Purgatory? 

However, I was presently reminded that it was not 
to a manifestation of the religious side of Catholicism 
that I had come, but to a momentary "materializa- 
tion," as the spirits say, of the defunct Temporal 
Power. My sympathetic sentiments were indeed some- 
what chilled as I entered by the "royal stair" into 
that "Royal Hall," between files of soldiers, armed 
with muskets, pikes, and swords. But I presently re- 
covered equanimity on observing that all the weapons 
were antiquarian, and the uniforms antiquarian. They 
did not "mean business." It was a sort of masque- 
rade. Nay, was I not myself in full evening dress, at 
ten in the morning, as if just from a ball? So I exam- 
ined the upheld swords. Some were two yards long, 
or more. They had quaint hilts, crosswise, jeweled, 
and among the curious was a crooked one that seemed 
to represent the Sword of Flame. No doubt each has 
its history, and may have symbolized the submission of 
some proud prince. The pikes had crooked axes a 
half yard from the point, and were upheld by men in 
striped raiment, something like the "beefeaters" who 
make picturesque exhibitions at the Tower of London. 
The "Swiss Guards" are on hand, but very meek as 
contrasted with their old days — which I can remem- 
ber — when they were prompt to handle roughly any 
poor pious wight who might be kneeling in the path of a 
pontifical procession. There was a gallery for the ambas- 
sadors commissioned to the Pope, — Spanish, French, 
Spanish. But they were all behind Sir John Simmons, 
the only protestant representative. He is here because 
England has Catholic dependencies, — Ireland and 
French Canada, — but his office has yet to be passed on 
by the Commons, and he has no establishment; he 
boards at a hotel. The real Ambassador, to the king, 

is on the floor with the rest of us, in evening dress, 
his wife and daughter being in one of the two tiers of 
ladies in black — who appear as if at a funeral. On 
looking and listening around me I perceive that the 
majority of the guests are English and American tour- 
ists, no doubt mainly protestants. We are in the place 
of the princes once received in this "Royal Hall" by 
the mighty Pontiff. 

We stood patiently for nearly an hour. Then the 
papal procession began to enter. The choristers in 
scarlet and white filed into their places. Then there 
were Cardinals in ermine and scarlet, with long pur- 
ple trains borne by pages, and red satin skull-caps ; 
then Bishops in purple and lace. Finally two mighty 
fans of white feathers floating at the top of velvet-cov- 
ered poles are visible ; between them is the throne, 
borne aloft on the shoulders of men, and on it seated 
Leon XIII, the white old man whom the Catholic -world 
calls Holy Father. 

The first thing that impressed me was the pathos 
of it all. This thin man of eighty years, whose life is 
prolonged only by constant precautions, appeared so 
lonely up there in the air ! Him no tender arm of wife 
or daughter awaits, when, exhausted and ill, he re- 
turns to his solitude. He waves his benediction on 
the company beneath him with hands half covered 
with white mittens, and light flashes down from his 
huge seal ring, set round with large diamonds. This 
is the ring of his wedlock, — wedlock of the Church as 
Bride, and the heavenly Bridegroom. Our very even- 
ing dresses and white cravats are now supposed to be 
sanctified. Some pious ladies are said to have carried 
many rosaries, to be afterwards presented to their 
friends as having been blest by the Pope. 

The Cardinals and Bishops have taken their places 
in the reserved enclosure, and bend low as the Pope 
is borne past them. He is let down gently, and sup- 
ported to a larger throne. Then thej' all take their 
seats, like the lords spiritual and temporal in the 
British House of Lords, and the choir breaks out 
with a triumphant anthem. Meanwhile the Pontiff 
sits still, and with his brilliant robes, and his triple 
crown, reminds me of certain Hindu deities that I 
have seen in their temples. The music ended, the 
work of the day proceeds. Three Cardinals are to be 
created — all from the "secular clergy" — that is, be- 
longing to no Order. One of these is Monsignor 
Richard, Archbishop of Paris ; another is Monsignor 
Foullon, Archbishop of Lyons ; the third is the Aus- 
trian, once eminent as General Shoenborn. This 
third one alone is a striking figure, — a tall, handsome, 
Bismark like personage. His air is military, and one 
cannot help wondering that such a man should be- 
come a Cardinal. He was engaged in the mortal 
struggle at Sadowa, and was one of the only two offi- 



cers of his regiment who survived. Then he became 
a priest, and ultimately Archbishop of Prague. 

The Secretary reads some official document ; a 
Cardinal recites a prayer ; the Te Deum is sung. The 
Pope's shoe is removed. The new Cardinal ap- 
proaches, and is presented by the Pope's hand with a 
brimless crown-shaped hat of bright red satin. This 
is held by an attendant over its possessor's head as he 
bends to kiss the Pope's foot, then rises to kiss the 
Pope's hand. The Pope then embraces the new Car- 
dinal, kissing him on both cheeks. This being thrice 
repeated the ceremonies of the Royal Hall are over. 
With some evidence of feebleness the Pope reaches 
the throne on which he entered, and is borne out as 
he came, again waving benedictions on. us with uncon- 
sciously graceful movements of his hand. I had a 
better opportunity of observing his face. He has a 
large' aquiline nose, curving over a sweet but melan- 
choly mouth ; his chin is weak, his eyes are blue and 
frank; his brow is not strong, but there is a scholarly 
look about him, as if he read much. 

As the Pope floated out I remarked on the back of 
his aerial throne the papal arms, richly wrought, and a 
sun with rays worked in gold and silver. This re- 
called the well-known incident which occurred at 
the close of the Convention in Philadelphia, in 
1787, which framed our Constitution. As Washing- 
ton was leaving the chair in which he had presided 
over the Convention, Franklin approached and pointed 
to the image of the sun carved on its back. He said 
that at various junctures of the debates he had won- 
dered whether it were a rising or a setting sun. " But 
now," he added, "I feel certain that it is a rising 

It is a terrible ordeal these prelates have to endure 
in marching beneath critical eyes, without the shield 
of any beard or of any hat. Every line of the shaven 
face comes out ; the thick lip, the sensual touch, the 
double chin, the bovine neck, the corvine nose, are 
visible here and there, contrasted with other faces 
with touches of beauty and spirituality. But I must 
admit that the Cardinals as a body did not impress me 
so favorably as the Bishops. Perhaps it was that 
every expression of humility is lost under the loud- 
ness of such raiment. 

After conducting the Pope to his apartments the 
prelates and cardinals and choir returned, moved 
through the Royal Hall, and we followed them into 
the Sistine Chapel. There was a brief service, which 
included some grand singing, — for a good voice is 
essential for a prelate. I found myself standing im- 
mediately beneath Michael Angelo's great ceiling pic- 
tures, — Eve received by the Almighty as she emerges 
from Adam's side ; Eve and Adam receiving the apple 
offered by the serpent, which has the face and breast 

of a beautiful woman (Lilith) ; Eve and Adam driven 
out of Paradise. The service was carried on at an 
altar on the wall otherwise completely covered by the 
greatest mural painting in the world — Michael An- 
gelo's Last Judgment. In the lower corner is pic- 
tured a Cardinal, girdled by a serpent, — this being the 
artist's punishment of the prurient prudery which 
wished to drape his pictures. The figure of Jesus as 
a ferocious judge, his mother trying to restrain his 
fury, is there witnessing the tremendous terrors which 
led to the worship of Mary. I do not wonder that 
Hawthorne was scandalized by this representation. 
" I fear I am myself among the wicked, " he wrote, 
"for I found myself inevitably taking their part, and 
asking for at least a little pity." In other words^ 
Hawthorne did exactly what Mary is doing in the pic- 
ture ; he touches, without realizing it, the secret of 
Mariolatry. He complains that Jesus should "ever 
be represented in that aspect," forgetting that it is the 
scriptural aspect. The fact is that when the Puritans 
destroyed the idea of the maternal divinity, they ren- 
dered inevitable a feminine evolution of Jesus. Haw- 
thorne's Jesus is really a Madonna. 

While I am gazing on the_ grand picture, to which 
the choir makes a sort of antiphon, the service ends.- 
The three new Cardinals take their stand, in the 
order of age, at the hither end of a reserved space, 
and each is greeted with kisses by all the rest. The 
hand is grasped, and the kiss is on both cheeks. 
Then they disappear from the public, and are received 
in secret consistory. Here the papal Allocution is 
read in Latin. There is also the ceremony, which must 
be curious, of shutting up the Cardinals. The Pope 
with his fingers closes the mouths of the new cardi- 
nals to indicate that as Cardinals, they are not to talk. 
As priests (if such they are, for laymen may be Cardi- 
nals) they may speak, but nothing that they say is in 
any case to carry authority or weight as coming from 
a Cardinal. The kissing of the Pope's foot and hand 
is thus not an idle ceremony ; his Cardinals are to be 
as his silent bodily members obeying the papal brain. 

Leaving the Vatican, I find myself recurring to 
the gold-and-silver Sun on the throne, and asking 
Franklin's question — Is it a rising or a setting sun ? 
So far as the Temporal Supremacy is concerned, it is 
long after Sunset ; what we have seen is Afterglow. 
The Allocution by its very complainings reveals the 
growing sense of hopelessness. Clearly nothing has 
been gained to the Church by its irreconcilable atti- 
tude towards the State, but something has been lost. 
The government having found abuses in the admin- 
istration of charitable foundations, — abuses of a kind 
that invariably grow around endowments from the 
Past, — have had to take them in hand, and we adapt 
them, in harmony with changed circumstances. This 



was done in England not many years ago, where it 
was found that money, bequeathed to the poor in 
parishes where no poor remain, was enjoyed by the 
rich. The English Church resisted change, but, when 
overborne, joined in carrying it out. But now that the 
Pope has denounced the new law, it is difficult to see 
how the Church can have any share in the future 
distribution of these important charities. It wDuld 
appear imprudent to transfer entirely to the secular 
hand the credit for alms and bounties hitherto associ- 
ated by the people with their pastors. If this suicidal 
policy continue the future of the Church in Italy may 
be seriously affected. But probably it will not con- 
tinue. When the present Pope dies — and the hour 
cannot be distant — there will be a crisis. The Church 
will have to decide whether its irreconcilable attitude, 
and a claim of martyrdom that has become stale, are 
worth what they are costing. It may see in England, 
in Germany, what good things state churches possess 
when they consent to temporal subordination, and 
what vast services they may render to the poor. Much 
will depend on the next Pope, and perhaps more on 
these dumb Cardinals. 



This conclusion * gathers force from a further 
scrutiny of the language that involves it. In the 
philosophy of Kant, from which the Editor avowedly 
has drawn the staple of his own philosophy, the phra- 
ses " existence in general " and " things in general " 
mean respectivel}', as indeed their words import, 
existence in itself and ' things in themselves ; they 
refer not to phenomena, but to noumena. And yet the 
Editor, who doubtless knows his Kant by heart, de- 
clares in the citation just made that "existence in 
general," though not subject to the law of causation, 
" must be accepted as a fact "; in other words, he de- 
clares in effect that the unknowable is unquestionable. 

And, again "The question itself, as to the cause 
of existence in general," these are his words, still 
lingering in the reader's mind, "is not admissible, for 
the law of causation is applicable to all phenomena of 
nature, but not to the existence of nature, which must be 
accepted as a fact." Very well, say we all : but, as the 
phenomenaof nature constitute the manifestation of ex- 
istence in general, and as the manifestation is under the 
law of causation and existence in general is above it, 
existence and its manifestation, contrary to his doctrine, 
are not one thing, but inevitably two things ; of which 
existence, as free from causation and absolute in cer- 
tainty, does not admit of being either grasped or 

* Referring to the preceding sentence, which alleges that the case against 
agnosticism is surrendered. 

doubted. If existence in general and its manifestation 
were one, the law of causation obviously would be 
applicable to the former as well as to the latter ; and, 
hence, in declaring that it is not applicable to exist- 
ence in general, which notwithstanding must be ac- 
cepted as a fact, he confesses — nay, proclaims — that 
this unique reality not only differs from its manifesta 
tion, but is an insolvable mystery. 

The conclusion gathers fresh force, out of a crowd 
of other things, from his definition of reality as "the 
sum total of all that is";* for, as Kant affirms, the 
"conception of a sum total of reality is the conception 
of a thing in itself, regarded as completely deter- 
mined "; and the conception of a thing in itself, /lor- 
resco referens, is the conception of the unknowable. 
Can it be that monism is based not simply on nou- 
mena, but on noumena in the positive sense ? Is it 
possible after all that monism is no other than the 
beast dualism ? 

' ' That which is unknowable in substance, " he says, 
" is unreal and non-existent," continuing : "The whole 
of reality, with its inexhaustible wealth of problems, 
lies within the bounds of knowability, while beyond that 
limit is empty nothingness." The question "as to the 
cause of existence in general," it would seem, is ad- 
missible after all, in his opinion ; for, if nothing is 
beyond the bounds of knowability, the existence to 
which he refers must lie within them, and must con- 
sist of phenomena, to which, as such, the "law of causa- 
tion is applicable. " The question as to the cause of ex- 
istence whereof this is true, forsooth, not only is admis- 
sible, but admits of a ready answer — to wit, the familiar 
process of which the product is an abstraction. But 
this is not the kind of existence in question. The 
existence which is independent of sensation, but on 
which sensation depends, is not existence in the ab- 
stract, but in the concrete — not the mere idea of exist- 
ence, but something existing — not an abstraction, but 
a reality : a reality of which the existence is revealed 
in the kaleidoscope of mind, but which in its proper 
nature, be that what it may, is impenetrable to thought,, 
as the objects in a kaleidoscope are impenetrable to 
vision. His averments here, the reader will mark, are 
mutually contradictory. If existence in general is in- 
dependent of causation, as he concedes, it cannot con- 
sist of phenomena, and does not lie within the bounds 
of knowability, but must lie beyond them ; and if,, 
though lying beyond them, it "must be accepted as a 
fact," it cannot be "empty nothingness ": it must be 
something, and must be unknowable. That is to say, 
if the law of causation is not applicable to existence in 
general, existence in general is incapable of being 

*This definition stands at the head of The Open Court, to whose Editor I 
am rejoining ; but in " Fundamental Problems" reality is defined, less aptly, 
I think, though not less consistently with my argument, as "the sum total of 
aU facts that are, or can become, objects of experience." 



known in its causes, and can be known only as a fact ; 
which is the definition of the unknowable. 

' ' We cannot comprehend, " he repeats in another re- 
lation, "why planets materially exist, and why force 
exists inseparably connected with matter. The ma- 
terial existence of planets, that their mass endowed 
with motion exists at all, is a fact." If we cannot 
comprehend "the material existence of planets," we 
of course cannot comprehend "material existence" at 
large ; which, accordingly, apart from its mere actual- 
ity, is unknowable. If, again, we cannot comprehend 
"why force exists inseparably connected with matter," 
we cannot comprehend matter or force ; and both, ex- 
cepting the fact of their existence, are unknowable — 
not the words, mark you, or the conceptions they sig- 
nify (possibly all of which the Editor takes account), 
but the external realities from which the conceptions 
are drawn. These realities are incomprehensible, he 
admits : they lie beyond "the bounds of knowability." 
And yet beyond these bounds, he says, is "empty noth- 
ingness. " Is then "empty nothingness " incomprehen- 
sible ? And can that which is incomprehensible be said 
to lie within the grasp of cognition ? What indeed is "a 
fact" that "we cannot comprehend" but an unknow- 
able reality — a reality known as a fact but not know- 
able in its causes? Nothing. The recognition of it is 
agnosticism pure and simple. It is the vice of the 
Editor's philosophy, as I conceive, that he mistakes 
the products of ideation for the external realities which 
give rise to them, and in turn mistakes these realities 
for nonentities; and this even when, as in the present 
instance, he stands face to face with the realities in 
their sublimest forms, and seems to sweep his eye across 
their measureless breadth, to lift it up to their infinite 
height, to fix it on their impenetrable depth. His phi- 
losophy banishes m}'stery to enthrone delusion. 

The Editor, as befits a good evolutionist, holds 
that man, in common with all other organisms, is the 
product of development, — the result of the action, re- 
action, and interaction of natural forces, which, as the 
factors originating consciousness, are external to con- 
sciousness ; so that, as the outcome of his doctrine, we 
have beyond consciousness an existence which is the 
source of our existence, but which, nevertheless, is 
nothing, while we are som'ething. We have all heard 
of the juggler who climbed a ladder supported by 
nothing, and pulled up the ladder after him ; but none 
of us, I take it, ever suspected that this audacious 
•drollery is a stock piece on the solemn stage of the 
imiverse — the roaring farce that relieves the tragedy 
of things. jEx nihilo nihil fit used to be accounted 
sound philosophy, but our arch-gnostic has changed 
all that ; in his hands the maxim reads Ex nihilo aliquid 
fit. He unwarily has put the new wine of evolution 
into the old bottles of pantheism, with the natural re- 

sult, this novel version of the time-honored aphorism 
marking one of the lines of fracture in the shivered 
bottles. The scriptural warning on this point should 
not have escaped the attention of so alert and lucid a 

The Editor has a good deal to say about the sum 
of things — the totality of existence — the All, with a 
big A ; which, we may be sure, he brings somehow 
(satisfactorily to himself) within the limits of the know- 
able. The steps in this particular instance, it turns 
out, are only two. He assumes, first, that nature has 
nothing in any of its parts, extensive or intensive, that 
is essentially different from the part of it accessible to 
human comprehension — which assumption, by the way, 
begs the question in dispute ; and, secondly, that the 
infinite is another name for the indefinite. Grant these 
two assumptions, and the wide world passes into the 
confines of the knowable, as the huge Afrite in the 
Arabian tale entered the fisherman's bottle. But these 
assumptions cannot be granted. He does not con- 
sistently stand by them himself. In admitting that 
sensation is different from the external reality produc- 
ing it, he admits that every part of nature has some- 
thing not comprehensible by man; and, when he looks 
up at that starry heaven which so kindled and awed 
the imagination of Kant, he must tacitly recognize that 
the indefinite is neither the infinite nor a real copy of 
it. Still, he makes these assumptions, and attempts 
to maintain them. 

"The infinite," he says, "is a symbol for a math- 
ematical process. When I count, I may count up to 
a hundred or two hundred, to a thousand or to a mil- 
lion, or to whatever number I please. If I do not stop for 
other reasons, I may count on without stopping — in a 
word, into infinity. " Here we have both assumptions, 
taken in the airiest manner, the suggestion being that 
what man does not understand is as understandable as 
what he does understand, and that all he has to do to 
comprehend the sum of things is to go on knowing 
and to know, as far as he pleases, and whenever he 
stops, though but from weariness or caprice, he may 
congratulate himself that he sees through the All, or 
as much of it as he likes, which is the same thing ; it 
is as easy as counting, or lying. " This will never do. " 

One may realize the indefinite by stopping when 
he pleases ; but, if he would realize the infinite, he 
must go on forever, which would be likely to put a 
finite being to his shifts. The indefinite admits of 
limit, conditional, though not unconditional ; but the 
infinite admits of no limit, conditional or unconditional. 
Our gnostic's free and easy logic, if he will pardon 
me, misses fire. He aims at the infinite, but brings 
down only the indefinite ; the infinite remains safely 
perched in its cosmic eyrie. 

" Infinitude is never an accomplished process," he 



tells us. It is never a process at all, but always a prop- 
erty, abstracted from infinite things ; it is not a pro- 
cess, but the product of a process, and of a perfectly 
accomplished one. Trying to count "into infinity," 
however, were anybody mad enough to try it, would 
be a "process," and undeniabl}' "never an accom- 
plished process "; seeing that it would take infinite 
time to accomplish it. 

He appears to look down on the infinite as "a 
mathematical term. " Yes, it is a term in mathematics ; 
it is also a term in philosophy; and, what is more to 
the purpose, it has the same meaning in both. Whether 
applied to quantity or being, it means that which is 
greater than any assignable thing of the same kind. 
And surely a thing is not to be made nothing of be- 
cause it is so great as to have no conceivable limits. 
It may be suggested, as Spinoza held, that the infinite 
sua gencre is not the absolutely infinite ; but, in respect 
to existence, this distinction is lost, the infinite suo 
genere, as comprehending all possible modes of infinity, 
being also the absolutely infinite. 

The infinite he also calls an "abstract idea. " It 
is an abstract idea, to be sure ; but it is abstracted 
from realities — infinite space, infinite time, and, above 
all, the infinite existence that fills both. Infinity is an 
abstraction, but infinite existence, the Editor himself 
being judge, is the synonym of reality — the All of 

' ' We look upon the forms of our existence, " he says, 
"as upon a specimen, so to speak, of the forms of ex- 
istence in general." Here, once more, I may note, 
he recognizes, in Kantian phrase, existence in itself, 
taking its reality for granted, and going so far as to 
hint at the possibility of bringing it within the bounds 
of the knowable ; but this in passing. The forms of 
infinite existence, to return, are themselves infinite, if 
we may reason on the matter at all ; for the proper- 
ties of a thing partake of its nature, and to assume 
that the forms of the infinite are finite would be to 
abolish the infinite. A specimen, furthermore, pre- 
supposes a class of things like itself, to which it be- 
longs, and of which it is a representative; but finite 
forms do not belong to the class of infinite forms, and 
for this reason cannot be specimens of them. The 
minutest part of a parabola, indeed, represents the 
whole, though produced to infinity, but only because 
the property of a parabola is assigned by definition, 
and belongs entire to every point in the curve. As, 
however, existence does not receive its properties from 
definition, or pack them in barren points, whose end- 
less iteration develops no new property, we are not at 
liberty to assume that we know all the properties or 
the whole of any property even of finite existence, far 
less that the complex of these properties undergoes no 
change in the forms of infinite existence. The notion 

that infinite existence is merely finite existence infi- 
nitely repeated has no ground in reason. It would be 
equally admissible, saying the least, to hold that infi- 
nite existence is finite existence changed qualitatively, 
as it were, by means of infinite quantification — finite 
existence not infinitely extended but infinitely trans • 
formed. But no particular predication of infinite ex- 
istence is legitimate ; infinite existence is unknowable, 
and that, once ascertained, ends the question. To 
pursue it would be to go astray, without star or com- 
pass, in the night and chaos of self-contradiction. 

Wherefore, infinite existence, unlike tea or wheat, 
cannot be sampled. We know that it is ; but what it 
is we know not, and by the constitution of our facul- 
ties are incapable of knowing. It lies beyond the 
possible grasp of cognition. The simple transcend- 
ency of this awful something — its existence beyond 
consciousness, and independent of consciousness — 
would paralyze comprehension ; but when to its trans- 
cendency we add its infinity, and superadd its abso- 
luteness, the most confirmed gnostic, even of the mo- 
nistic species, must begin to suspect, one would think, 
that there is something in heaven and earth not dreamt 
of in his philosophy. 

It is time to close. But in closing I must do my- 
self and the Editor of The Open Court the justice of 
paying afresh the tribute of my admiration to his rare 
excellence as a writer. The energetic yet easy play 
of his faculties, the massive simplicity of his style, the 
mingled sympathy and reverence of his tone, his im- 
perturbable temper, and his masterly lucidity, are above 
praise. Even his errors, or what I hold to be his 
errors, are more improving than the truths of most 
writers. I must not forget, however, that I am closing. 

My summary shall be short ; and, to this end, parti- 
ally ad hominem. Monism is founded on the oneness 
of the All. As the sum total of reality, the All is trans- 
cendent ; as illimitable in space and time, it is infinite ; 
as dependent on nothing outside of itself, it is ab- 
solute. Transcendent, infinite, absolute, the All, by 
this triple token, is the Unknowable ; on which, such 
being the case, monism rests as its foundation. And 
so the leopard of agnosticism, fulfilhng in a way the 
roseate prophecy of Isaiah, lies down with the kid of 
gnosticism — the latter inside the former. "Let us 
have Peace." 


The basal idea of Positivism or Positive Monism is 
that it takes its stand on facts ; and there is unquestion- 
ably no thinker of the present age, who is imbued with 
the scientific spirit of the time, that would offer any 
objection to this principle. Yet former philosophies 
did not take the same ground. They tried to find a 
footing in empty space ; they attempted to explain 

2 144 


facts by deriving them from some abstract conception 
that they postulated. Their favorite starting-point 
was the idea of abstract existence. Hence their method 
is called ontology, which may be translated as meaning 
" thought-structures of abstract existence. " The vaguer 
the broader, the more general and metaphysical this 
abstract conception was, the deeper and profounder 
an ontological system appeared to be, and the more it 
was appreciated by the astonished public. 

One of the ablest, and certainly the most famous, 
among ontologists was Hegel. Hegel started with the 
abstract idea of being or existence in general, and 
claimed that this concept in its emptiness was iden- 
tical with non-existence. Abstract being, he said, is 
at the same time an absolute negation of concrete 
being ; it is pure nothingness. These two concepts 
accordingly are in one respect absolutely identical, in 
another respect absolutely contradictory. Each one 
disappears immediately into its opposite. The oscil- 
lation between both is the pure becoming, das reine 
Werden, which, if it be a transition from non-existence 
to existence, \s czWeA E?itsiehen, "growing, originating, 
waxing," and if it be a transition from existence to 
non existence, is called Vergehen, "decrease, decay, 
waning." Having arrived, by this ingenious method 
of philosophical sleight of hand at the concept of 
Becoming, Hegel's ontology touched bottom. From 
the Utopia of non-existence, above the clouds, he got 
down to the facts of real life ; and here he applies to 
everything the same method of a thesis, an antithesis, 
and the combination of both. 

We would be obliged to go into detail if we in- 
tended to show how truly grand was the application 
of his method to logic, to history, to natural science, 
to art, to aesthetics, to religion, and to theology. 
Here is not the place for doing this. Yet, while ob- 
jecting to the ontological method, we wish incidentally 
to emphasize the fact, that Hegel was one of the 
greatest, boldest, and most powerful thinkers of all 
times, whatever his mistakes may have been, and from 
whatsoever standpoint we choose to look upon his phi- 

Ontology starts from abstract ideas and comes 
down to facts. Positivism, on the contrary, starts 
from facts and rises to abstract ideas. Abstract ideas, 
according to the positive view, are derived from and 
represent certain general features of facts. Ontology 
is bent upon explaining the existence of facts from non- 
existence, and ontologists therefore regard it as their 
duty to bridge over in their imagination the chasm 
between nothingness and something. Positivism does 
not require such mistaken procedure. It takes the 
facts as data and possesses in their existence the mate- 
rial out of which rise the sciences and philosophy. 
Philosophy is no longer a pure thought-structure of 

abstract being, but a general survey of the sciences as 
a conception of the universe, based upon experience. 

Ontological systems did not disappear and lose their 
influence over mankind suddenly, but dissolved them- 
selves first into a state of philosophical despair. The 
uselessness and sterility of the ontological method 
were more and more recognized and found their philo- 
sophical expression in agnosticism. 

Agnosticism is the most modern form of the ob- 
solete method of ontological philosophy. The agnostic 
philosopher has discovered a concept that is broader 
and vaguer even than that of "existence in general." 
This concept is the Unknowable. Something that is 
real and at the same time absolutely unknowable is a 
self-contradiction. But never mind. That makes the 
idea the vaguer and it will thus be more easily turned 
to advantage. Agnostics are never afraid of arriving at 
self-contradictory statements, at unknowabilities, or 
at insolvable problems — these three terms mean 
the same thing — for they are just the things they be- 
lieve in.* 

Positivism regards the construction of philosophy 
upon abstract ideas as idle effort. Instead of coming 
down from an abstract conception as if it were out of 
a balloon to the solid ground of facts, positivism takes 
facts as its data. It starts from facts and arranges 
them properly in good order. It derives its abstract 
conceptions not by a theological revelation nor by in- 
tuition and metaphysical inspiration, but by the 
method of mental abstraction. And it discards all 
those abstract conceptions which have not been 
derived from facts. Philosophical knowledge is not 
at all a going beyond facts, but it is the proper and 
systematic arrangement of facts, so that they do not 
appear as incoherent single items without rhyme or 
reason, but as one intelligible whole in which every 
part appears in concord with every other. 

* * 

The principle of Positivism, certainly, is very 
simple, but its application is by no means easy. Even 
the mere statement of facts requires much care and 
exactness, while their systematic arrangement as sci- 
entific knowledge is the privilege only of a few ex- 
ceptional thinkers. 

What are facts? Facts are all the events that 
take place ; the thoughts and acts of living beings as 

* Agnosticism blindfolds us in clear daylight. I wish every agnostic would 
read the following passage from our great American Logician, C. S. Peirce : 

" One singular deception, which often occurs, is to mistake the sensation 
produced by our own unclearness of thought for a character of the object we 
are thinking. Instead of perceiving that the obscurity is purely subjactive, 
we fancy that we contemplate a quality of the object which is essentially mys- 
terious ; and if our conception be afterward presented to us in a clear form 
we do not recognize it as the same, owing to the absence of the feeling of un- 
intelligibility. So long as this deception lasts, it obviously puts an impassable 
barrier in the way of perspicuous thinking; so that it equally interests the 
opponents of rational thought to perpetuate it, and its adherents to guard 
against it." — \The Illustrations of ihc Logic of Science, {See Popitiar Science 
Monthly, 1877, p. 291.)] 



well as the motions of not-living things, great and 
small ; the oscillations of atoms and the movements of 
suns ; in short all natural processes that happen. The 
central fact among all other facts is to every one the 
activity of his own consciousness. This central fact, 
however, must not be supposed to be either the ulti- 
mate fact or the simplest fact. To call any fact ulti- 
mate is not justifiable, because if any single fact 
among facts is ultimate, all facts are ultimate. Facts, 
if they are facts at all, are equally real ; their reality 
cannot be regarded as of a greater or less degree. To 
look upon consciousness as a simple fact would imply, 
that it is eternal, which is contrary to our experience. 
Consciousness is a very complicated fact ; it is the 
sum of many smaller facts and must be supposed to 
be the result of a co-operation of innumerable pro- 

This, however, is stated only incidentally in oppo- 
sition to certain philosophers who believe in the sim- 
plicity of consciousness and build upon this hypothe- 
sis a grand philosophical system called idealism. For 
our present purpose, in considering consciousness as 
the central fact among all other facts, it is of no con- 
sequence. It is here sufficient to state that conscious- 
ness being to every one of us the basis of our knowl- 
edge of facts, need not at all be the originator of 
facts; being the centre of our intellectual world, it 
need not at all be an indivisible unit or a mathematical 
point. Facts are stated as facts when they are rep- 
resented in consciousness, and the means by which 
facts are represented in consciousness are sensations. 
This is to say: The philosophical problem according 
to positivism is the arrangement of all knowledge 
into one harmonious system which will be a unitary 
conception of the world and can serve as a basis for 

A unitary conception of the world implies and pre- 
supposes the idea of a continuity of nature, which, 
it is true, has not as yet been proved in all its details. 
Nevertheless, it is more than simply probable. The 
continuity of nature is the indispensable ideal of sci- 
ence; every progress of science is, rightly considered, 
nothing but an additional evidence of the truth that 
nature does not contradict herself ; she is continuous 
and self-consistent. There are no facts, proven to be 
facts, that can overthrovO^ the ideal of a continuity of 
nature. Therefore, the solution of the problem to 
construct a unitary system of knowledge, we most em- 
phatically declare, is not only possible, it is also ne- 
cessary, it is an indispensable duty of man as a think- 
ing being; and its realization is the very life of sci- 
ence. If a systematization of knowledge were im- 
possible, science would become impossible, and phi- 
losophy would be resolved into useless vagaries. 

To sum up. The philosophical problem, accord- 

ing to ontology, is to derive existence from non-exist- 
ence. Agnosticism, finding the problem of deriving 
something from nothing insoluble, declares it to be an 
inscrutable mystery. Positivism maintains that the 
problem is illegitimate. Taking its stands upon facts, 
positivism can dispense with the salto mortale of 
ontology. p. c. 





Facts, we declare, are the data o£ knowledge ; and the ex- 
istence of things, the existence of nature, must be regarded as a 
fact. Here Mr. Shipman thinks that he has got me in a fix. 
Whence do we get the facts ? 

The law of cause and effect applies to things only, i. e., to 
the forms of existence, but not to existence in general, as I admit. 
Ergo, Mr. Shipman declares, existence in general is one thing and 
its manifestation another : existence in general is free from causa- 
tion, is absolute and unknowable, while the manifestations of 
existence, its forms, are knowable. 

The law of cause and effect, as defined and explained in Fund- 
amental Prohlems, is the formula under which we comprise all the 
changes that take place in the world of actual existence. The law 
of cause and effect does not explain why matter exists or why 
energy exists, but it explains how and why one form changes into 
another form. 

The law of cause and effect does not admit of any other ap- 
plication ; for instance, it cannot be applied to the question " Why 
is there any existence at all ? " We can trace the chain of causes 
and effects up to a special, for instance the present, state of things, 
and we can comprehend why things and their arrangements are 
as they are, but to ssarch for a cause of their existence at large, 
why they materially exist at all is illegitimate. To comprehend 
material existence in this way is impossible, because it is inad- 
missible. There is, however, no concession on my part, no ad- 
mission, as Mr. Shipman declares * 

The law of cause and effect applies to changes of form and as 
soon as we apply it otherwise, we must in the end arrive at con- 
tradictions — which in my mihd do not prove the dogma of agnos- 
ticism, but are a sign that there is something wrong in our logic. 
The law of cause and effect is often erroneously applied to abstract 
conceptions. But it is wrong to speak of the cause of ' ' whiteness " 
or the cause of " the existence of the world in general." I can in- 
vestigate the cause that made a thing white ; and I can explain the 
reason why a certain thing now appears to us, for instance, as 
white. But there is no cause of " whiteness in general." I can ex- 
plain the process by which we arrive at the conception of white- 
ness. But the application of the concepts cause and effect to ab- 
stract ideas (as I employ the term cause) is as nonsensical as 
if I should speak of the undulations of goodness, or the heat of 

* Mr. Shipman's quotation that " we cannot comprehend why planets 
materially exist," etc., makes a diflferent impression when considered in its 
context. Six lines above the quoted passage we read, on p. 121: "There is 
nothing to be comprehended in existence in general. It is a matter of e.^- 
perience simply, to be stated as a fact. By the form, for instance, of planets, 
we understand their shape as globes (or rather as spheroids) ; by the form of 
their motions we understand their paths, which are conic sections. We can- 
not comprehend why planets materially exist, and why force exists inseparably 
connected with matter. The material existence of planets, that their mass 
endowed mith motion exists at all, is a fact ; but their existence as planets, 
why they exist as spheroids, and why they travel in paths of conic sections can- 
very well be comprehended." 



straight lines, or the changes of form that mathematical points 
undergo. The question how the different forms of existence came 
about, how they were caused, is legitimaie ; but the question as to 
the cause of existence in general is illegitimate. 

But, given facts as the data from which philosophy and sci- 
ence start, and recognizing that they must come from somewhere, 
the question still remains. How do facts or how did facts originate ? 

This question may be viewed in two different ways ; 

(i) How is the present state of the world to be explained from 
a former state ? Especially, How did its complicated cosmic har- 
mony and manifold variety of form come about ? and 

(2) How is it that things exist at all ? Why is there existence 
instead of non-existence ? Why is there something instead of 
nothing ? 

These are the two interpretations of which the question 
" Whence come facts ? " admits. In the former shape the.question 
has found its scientific answer in the Kant-Laplace hypothesis 
of the origin of the solar system and in the Lamarck-Darwinian 
theory of evolution which was devised to account for the origin 
of species. In the latter shape the question has also found a sci- 
entific answer. The answer is formulated in the law of the con- 
servation of matter and energy. The answer is that matter and 
energy are indestructible and uncreatable; they are eternal. ' ' Eter- 
nal " does not signify anything mysterious or incomprehensible ; 
it simply denotes something that exists, that has existed, and that 
will continue to exist. 

No other answer can be expected to the question " Whence do 
facts come ? " Mr. Shipman does not seem to consider the law of 
the conservation of matter and energy a sufficient solution of the 
problem. He would fain make us believe that the substitution of 
something unknowable is an answer more satisfactory than the 
law of the conservation of matter and energy. But it is not. The 
Unknowable explains nothing ; and if one adopts the positive con- 
ception of philosophy, the Unknowable becomes quite a superflu- 
ous idea, which can most easily be dispensed with — nay more 
easily than it can be accepted. There is no place for it in a 
system of positive philosophy. 


Mr. Shipman says : 
" It is the vice of the Editor's philosophy, as I conceive, that he mistakes 
the products of ideation for the external realities which give rise to them, and 
in turn mistakes these realities for non-entities ;...." 

I do not mistake the products of ideation for external realities. 
On the contrary, I have repeatedly declared that ideas are rep- 
resentations of things. Metaphysical essences and absolute ex- 
istences are all that I have declared to be non-entities. The ban- 
ishment of mystery, in my mind, is the main duty of science and 
philosophy, and I am not at all astonished that a mystic looks upon 
the attempt to expel mystery as a delusion. 
Mr. Shipman sums up the outcome of my doctrine in the fol- 
lowing statement ■. 

" We have beyond consciousness an existence which is tlie source of our 
existence, but which, nevertheless, is nothing, while we are something." 

This is simply a gross misstatement. I never said anything 
like it. I mentioned the word source in one connection only. I 
said there is no source of existeace — no source of the universe. 
The story of "the juggler who climbs a ladder supported by noth- 
ing and pulls the ladder after him," is applicable not to positivism 
but to that class of philosophers who in search for a source of ex- 
istence find themselves urged to search further for a source of the 
source and so od infittitum. 


Mr. Shipman seems to suppose that the thinking subject is 
essentially different from the rest of nature. At least he objects 

to " the assumption " that the thinking subject is a part of nature, 
and that the form of the thinking subject is, as it were, a specimen 
of the form of nature. He does not disprove my position. So I 
need not take the trouble to refute his view, 


The infinite is by no means another name for the indefinite. 
Mr. Shipman, it appears, in declaring that I had said it is, did not 
understand the solution of the question as proposed in Fiincla mental 
Problems. The two conceptions, the infinite and the indefinite, 
are quite distinct. It is not my logic that is " free and easy," but 
Mr. Shipman's presentation of my views 

The infinite is a symbol to signify a process without a limit. 
If I count up to a hundred or to a thousand and stop there, I do 
not reach the infinite. I never said that I reach it by stopping in- 
definitely, as Mr. Shipman declares. Only, if I count on without 
stopping, I call the process infinite. 

Infinitude is not a thing, it is not an object ; it is a process 
without a limit. A process carried on without a limit, is never 
finished, it is never a round, compact, concrete reality, but is 
conceived as being in a course of constant progress. 

Mr. Shipman tells us that the infinite is "a property ab- 
stracted from infinite things." I must confess, (i) that I never met 
with an infinite thing in my life, and (2) that I do not believe in 
the existence of infinite things. Time and Space are infinite to be 
sure ; but time and space are not things ; and infinitude is not ab- 
stracted from Time and Space, but attributed to them. Space is 
not, as metaphysical philosophers imagine, a large box possessing 
the inexplicable property of infinitude, and containing the world 
within it. Space is the possibility of motion in all directions. If 
the point A moves in a straight line, it is possible for it to con- 
tinue to move without stopping. We can imagine the process to 
be continued without a limit. The same holds good for every line 
in every possible direction. This is all we can mean by the idea 
that space is infinite. 

It is the same with Time. Metaphysical philosophers imagine 
that Time is a mysterious something in which all. events and hap- 
penings take place. But Time is not a thing. It is no more a 
thing than Space is. 

We observe changes taking place around us. Time is nothing 
but a measure of these changes. We employ as measures such 
changes as appear most regular, such as days and years. But 
there is no time apart from changes. Since we can imagine that 
some changes will always take place, and, even if they did not 
take place, since we could measure the time of a supposed rest 
by some certain measure, (days, years, millenniums, billenniums, 
etc.), we say that Time is infinite. This is all that we can mean 
by the idea that Time is infinite. 

If Mr. Shipman means by " infinite existence" the truth that 
existence will continue to be existence into infinity, (viz., infinite 
time, or eternity), I gladly adopt the term. If he means that ex- 
istence in its extension is infinite, I must hesitate to adopt it. If 
the infinite extension of existence means something immeasurable 
to us with the means of measurement at our command, I have also 
no objection. But if it means that the amount of energy and of 
matter in the sum total of all the sidereal systems of the universe 
is absolutely infinite, I must ask Mr. Shipman on what ground he 
makes such a bold assumption. 


Mr. Shipman's quotation from Kant proves that the latter 
believed in things in themselves. I know very well that Kant has 
a phase in his development which is thoroughly dualistic. But we 
are not discussing Kant here, so I waive the point. 


Mr. Shipman says: "The existence of reality is revealed in the 
kaleidoscope of mind, but its proper nature, be that what it may, is 



impenetrable to thought, as the objects in a kaleidoscope are im- 
penetrable to vision." 

This simile throws light upon the difference between Mr. 
Shipman's conceptions and mine. I do not want either thought 
or vision to penetrate things. It would be but consistent with 
Mr. Shipman's agnosticism to declare that things are invisible. 
We see the outside of things only, and therefore objects are 
impenetrable to vision. 

If Mr. Shipman's expression, "things are impenetrable to 
thought," is used in a figurative sense, meaning thereby that we 
cannot see in our mind the inside of things and the laws that 
describe* their formation (indeed, it can not be interpreted in any 
other sense), the idea is as untrue as that science is identical with 

We cannot look into the inside of people ; yet a good physician 
who is not an ignorant quack but combines knowledge with ability 
and sound judgment, can and does penetrate with his thought into 
the organs of his patient. What would be the value of science, if 
that were not so ! 

A philosophy that levels all degrees of wisdom to the miser- 
able ignorabiiiiKs, will come to the rescue of quacks and comfort 
their conscience with Solomon's great saw : ' ' All is vanity ! Know- 
ledge is vanity ! Wisdom is vanity ! " 

Does not the botanist see more in a tree than people ignorant 
of the wonders of plant-life ? Do not our thoughts penetrate into 
the ground and do we not know that the roots are there that 
nourish the tree ? Does not the mind of the scientist perceive the 
activity of the solar light which raises every little drop of sap that 
enters the leaves and blossoms to build up their structures ? And 
are not the laws that describe these changes present in the mind 
of a man familiar with the subject so that he can upon the whole 
foretell what will happen, if some of the conditions were altered ? 
If that is no penetration of thought into things, pray what is it ? 

Are those things unknowable also that we made ourselves ? 
Were steam and the laws of steam impenetrable to the thoughts 
of a Watt and to a Stephenson ? Is a watch unknowable to a 
watchmaker ? Is the Eiffel tower and its structure unknowable to 
Mr. Eiffel ? Is the phonograph an unknowable instrument to Mr. 
Edison ? Is he hopelessly ingnorant about the materials and their 
qualities of which its different parts consist ? Must he not have a 
very exact and an exhaustive knowledge of the laws according 
to which the wonderful little machine acts ? 

Mr. Wake in his thoughtful essay God in Evolution {The Open 
Court, No. 121, p. 1998) brings out very strongly this point against 
agnosticism. We quote the following passage : 

"To a philosopher 
phenomena of external 
into states of conscious 
or directs the forces of 

tudy, or even in the presence of the ordinary 

all our knowledge may appear to be resolvable 

, but not to him who uses the qualities of matter 

-e for working out some great useful design. The 

sculptor or artist can give outward form to his thought, and so can the engineer 
who tunnels under mountains or bridges arms of the sea. The discoveries of 
science, and their application in the manufacture and formation of works of 
art, are not consistent with the view that external phenomena are not truly 
represented in consciousness, whatever maybe said of astronomy or any other 
science as the formulation of the laws 

In popular opinion I iind that one of the strongest arguments 
in favor of Agnosticism is the preconceived idea that familiarity 

♦ We purposely use the expression " natural laws dcscrib>f," and purposely 
avoid the term *^ govern ^^ in this connection. The expression "gravitation 
governs the motions of celestial bodies " gives rise to the misconception that 
the law of gravity is a power behind the phenomena of gravity. Thus we 
mystify ourselves by our own language and look upon gravitation as a meta- 
physical something that like a wizard rules the behavior of atoms and planets. 
The so-called natural laws are not laws, properly speaking, but comprehen- 
sive formulas which systematically and methodically describe certain natural 

breeds contempt. If a schoolboy gains a superficial knowledge 
of astronomy, the astronomer loses in his eyes the respect he 
before possessed. The mysterious, the uncomprehended, the un- 
known alone seem to command man's reverence. 

Familiarity with scientific truth breeds contempt in him alone 
whose knowledge is superficial ; all thorough knowledge will raise 
admiration and wonder and awe. Knowledge dispels superstitious 
awe and foolish fear, but the truly religious spirit, the recognition 
of the sublime in nature, is not lost through knowledge; it receives 
its only solid food whereon to live and to grow. 

The savage will cease to worship a thunderer if he knows that 
thunder and lightening are produced through electrical tension. 
In that sense familiarity with a subject will breed contempt. But 
the scientist understanding the laws and the workings of electri- 
city, will be more impressed with the grandeur of natural laws 
than the poor pagan, who bows down in the dust before the flash 
that shoots forth from the clouds. 

It is one of the gravest mistakes of Agnosticism as presented 
by Mr. Herbert Spencer to base religion upon the Unknown, and — 
in order to give to religion a foundation which even the scientist dare 
not touch — to assert the existence of an Unknowable and recom- 
mend it as the basis of the future religion. The worship of the Un- 
known is no religion, but superstition, and the proposed worship of 
a chimera, such as the Unknowable, it seems to me, is no improve- 
ment upon paganism. The pagan indeed does not worship the 
thunder because he does not know what it is, but because he does 
know that it might kill him. He worships the thunder because he 
is afraid of it, because of the known and obvious dangers connected 
with it, which he feels unable to control. He worships that which 
powerfully influences his life and which he cannot alter or fashion 
as it pleases him. Religion, true religion, is the recognition of the 
unalterable laws of nature to which we must adapt ourselves. It 
is above all the recognition of the unalterable moral law which 
builds up human society and made man a moral being— and the 
recognition of these laws implies the lear of breaking them and 
the confidence that a community in which they are obeyed, will 
flourish and grow and prosper, and its citizens shall enjoy the 
benefit thereof. 

Occasionally I meet with the strange expression "reverent 
agnosticism." Reverence for truth is certainly better shown by 
earnest and bold inquiry than by a halting and submissive re- 
spect — as if truth were unapproachable. 


In conclusion I have to state that the difference in the prin- 
ciples from which Agnosticism on the one side, and Positivism on 
the other, start, is so great, that the very meanings of words and 
terms are affected by it. Words like cognition, knowledge, manifes- 
tation, properties of things (i. e., qualities), infinite, etc., have ac- 
quired different shades of meaning. Every one of these terms, 
being definite and clear in Positivism, is overshadowed by the 
dim mystery of the Unknowable in Agnosticism ; every one of 
them partakes of that holiness which Agnostics attach to the ob- 
scure, the vague, the incomprehensible. 

We are informed by Mr. Shipman that the leopard Agnosti- 
cism has swallowed what he believes to be the kid Gnosticism ; and 
he hints that the kid Gnosticism is the positive philosophy pro- 
pounded by The Open Court. The leopard has swallowed some- 
thing, no doubt, that it cannot digest ; for the diagnosis shows 
all the symptoms of the disease of agnosticism. What, indeed, is 
it but a desperate case of philosophical dyspepsia ? p. c. 

" Man must hold firm to the belief that what appears incom- 
prehensible to him is comprehensible, since otherwise he will not 
investigate." — Goethe. 

2 1^ 



Agnosticism is a most praiseworthy position if it signifies 
Socratic modesty concerning all those problems which we have 
not as yet solved. But then, of course, it is a personal attitude, 
not a philosophy ; it is simply a confession of private ignorance, 
which will be of great service in dispelling that ignorance. 

Darwin when urged to state whether he was a theist or not, 
uses the word agnosticism in this sense, saying: "I think that 
generally (and more as I grow older), but not always, that an 
Agnostic would be the more correct description of my state of 
mind,"i. e., more than a theist. And even here Darwin feels 
constrained to add the three little words " hut not always" 

Darwin was no philosopher, and all his utterances concerning 
philosophical and religious problems were made most unwillingly 
and with great reserve. The term agnostic is characteristic of 
this reserve. It was intended as the e.\pression of his personal 
attitude and not as a philosophical dogma. In his own province 
of research Darwin certainly did not adopt the principle that the 
origin of the species was an inscrutable mystery. He showed his 
reverence towards truth not in an overawed reserve but in coura- 
geous investigation. 

Darwin says in his preface to the Descent of Man : 

"It is those who know little and not those who know much, who 
so positively assert that this or that problem will never he solved by 

Who dares to cite Darwin's authority in favor of Agnosticism 
—save the agnosticism of personal modesty — in the face of that 
passage ? 

Professor Ernst Haeckel is again and again erroneously quoted 
as an authority in support of agnosticism. When I visited him in 
Jena last summer, he very warmly expressed his sympathy with 
the attitude of The Open Court for taking such a decided and un- 
mistakable stand against the ignorabimiis of agnosticism. He called 
my attention in this connection to his own controversies with 
Virchow and Du Bois-Reymond (especially Freie IVissenschaft und 
freie Lehre.) 

The first number of The Open Court, p. 17, contains the fol- 
lowing quotation from Haeckel without reference : 

" I believe that my Monistic convictions agree in all essential points with 
that natural philosophy which in England is represented as Agnosticism " 

Professor Haeckel declared that he did not remember ever 
having written a sentence to that purport, and I come to the con- 
clusion that there is something wrong about the quotation. 

The agnosticism of modesty is a great thing, for it gives a 
stimulus to investigation. However, the dogmatic agnosticism 
which establishes a belief in the Unknowable erects a barrier to 
scientific inquiry. Agnosticism is truly, as the French express it, 
a citl de sac. It leads us into a blind alley where no further ad- 
vancement is possible and maintains that there the world is at an 
end. All great enquirers were agnostics of the former class, but 
the agnostics of the latter class are the great mystery-mongers 
of a pseudo-philosophy, such as Plotinus and Jacob Bbhme, 
who may have been very profound dreamers, very original geniuses, 
but not clear thinkers, not true philosophers. p. c. 



Sent from the 'Lena Delta," 
Briefly the message said : 
" Captain De Long and party 
Found by us here ; all dead." 

* Written with reference to several scattered items which appeared of 
e in various liberal journals. 

t Read at the annual dinner of the U S. Naval Academy GraduatesAssocia- 
n. Copyright, rSS/. 

Dead ! and the world that learns it 
Feels, though the story's old, 

A gloom as of night and silence, 
The waste and the bitter cold ; 

Feels for a moment vaguely 

That somewhere, far away, 
Men that were brave lie frozen, 

Then turns to its toil or play. 

For the great WDrld bears of sorrow 

But a feeble, feeble part ; 
To know of all men's grieving 

Would break the great world's heart. 

Dead by the frozen river ! 

Twenty long years ago 
I may have heard him giving 

Its length and course, as though 

This one for him meant nothing 

More than the rest he gave. 
We knew all lands and waters, 

But none could name his grave. 

Poor fellow ! The winds and currents 

Had taken us far apart. 
But the boy's good-will, remembered. 

Told of the man's grgat heart. 

Hail to the dead, that, dying, 

Keep the old cause alive ! 
Score one for the side of honor, 

And the class of " Sixty-five." 

Yea, though the crowd may mock me. 
Though the carping few deride, 

I'll own that a comrade's valor 
Fills my whole soul with pride. 

The lowliest name that's written 
Where the graves lie most obscure, 

Gets light from the golden letter 
On the shaft that shall endure. 

Bring me no canting theories 
To prove that the spirit bred 

Of fellowship and honor 

Should die with the old things dead. 

They well may fear and hate it 
Who, scornful of worth, conspire 

To cover us all with sewage. 
And fish in the common mire. 

For the men that stand united 

In sacrifice and toil. 
Are an insult to the pirates 

Whose only bond is spoil. 

Leaving a sword left idle 

Home in a land at peace. 
He shipped with his brave companions 

For the war that can never cease ; 

War with the waste unconquered, 
War with the depth and height, 

War with the false triumphant. 
War for the fact and light. 

" What is the use ?" men ask us ; 

" What can we hope to know, 
More than that man can conquer 

The storm and the ice and the snow ? ' 



"What is the use ?" 'Twere useful, 

If only to give us an hour 
Of rest from your weary gabble 

Of stocks and of pork and flour ; 

Useful to show the nations 

That still, when honor calls. 
Our flag has stars on azure, 

And not three gilded balls ; 

Useful to teach a lesson 

To the puling dolts who'd wed 
The lily of the liver 

To the laurel of the head. 
But think of the past ; remember 

How much that we are to-day, 
Comes from the strange devotion 

Of lives that were "thrown away." 
Sow, and then reap and garner. 

Hoard and be rich ; but own 
That wisdom has used the folly 

That lives not by bread alone. 
On many a bootless venture 

Many a sail's unfurled ; 
But some that start for India, 

Find on their way a world. 
Heedless of good or evil. 

Something within the soul 
Points to the great unknown 

As a needle to the Pole ; 
Points and impels us onward, 

Seeking what lies beyond 
With courage the " wise " call folly. 

And faith that the fool deems fond. 
Sons of our alma mattei\ 

' Youngest of those who serve. 
Cherish his name forever ; 

So shall you well deserve. 
Trust to the truth and follow. 

Hopeful and strong and brave ; 
For when all faith else is shaken, 

This is the faith shall save. 
Washington, D. C. Louis Belrose, Jr. 

correspondence! ^ 


To the Editor of The Open Court : — 

History repeats itself, and the dictum of chief-justice Taney 
that "the negro has no rights which the white man is bound to 
respect " finds new and striking illustration in the proposition that 
the interests of the white race demand his compulsory emigration 
out of the only country which be has known for two hundred and 
seventy years. Just glance at this page of his history ; To gratify the 
greed of Indo-Europeans the negro was stolen from his African home 
more than two and a half centuries ago and reduced to slavery. 
He was during this time accounted and treated no better than a 
thing, a dog. He was in fact in the eye of the law chattel prop- 
erty. The system of chattel slavery was maintained by the Indo- 
European race until it imperilled the life of the Republic. To 
save the Union the slave was made a soldier, to save a political 
party the former chattel was turned into a citizen. And now on 
the plea of preserving free institutions and the purity of the Indo- 
European race, the right of the negro to live where he was born, 
and where eight generations of his ancestors have lived before 

him, is boldly denied. Forty years ago it was asserted often 
enough that this was a "white man's government." This old as- 
sertion is now bettered. For, translated by Prof. Cope, it reads : 
' ' This is a white man's country." But who made it a white man's 
country rather than a red man's or a yellow man's or a black 
man's country ? The red race was here before and the black race 
came simultaneously with his Indo-European oppressor. What 
but the law of might makes America a white man's country, just 
as the law of might made her government a generation ago a white 
man's government ? In his relations with the negro and the In- 
dian ihe white man's "lean" has always measured the white 
man's "I may." It was this good old principle which planted 
African slavery in America ; it is the same principle invoked by 
Prof. Cope to plant a greater wrong under the ribs of the old. 
Can a race any more than an individual man pursue with impunity 
a career of brutal and calculating selfishness ? Is this the revela- 
tion which science makes " to the student of species-character in 
body and mind ? " It is not possible for a strong race after in- 
flicting the most erroneous miseries and wrongs upon a weak race 
through nearly three centuries, to terminate its relations and re- 
sponsibilities to it by an act of final and transcendent selfishness 
and iniquity and then go on its way as if no wrong were done — 
aye advance the faster and the more for it. Is that a specimen of 
national morality with which the United States are to enlighten 
and lead the world ? Is this a way to preserve its Indo-European 
purity of blood by such a collossal corruption of the resources of 
its moral life ? For the peace of the realm and the purity of the 
holy Catholic worship the Huguenots were driven from France. 
For the peace of the country and the purity of the Indo-European 
race more than seven millions of colored people are to be deported 
to an utterly strange continent, to which for seventy years they 
have strenuously protested they do not wish to be sent. Is this 
the kind of liberty which republics cultivate in common with des- 
potism, the liberty of the strong to execute without check their 
will on the weak ? Let me tell Prof. Cope that an act like the one 
which he advocates would be productive of an amount of moral 
degeneracy on the part of his race, which no mere physical con- 
tact and mingling of whites and blacks could possibly work. Have 
the wrongs, which a superior race visits upon an inferior, no 
adverse effect upon that race's evolution from lower to higher 
levels of race-life. I have yet to learn that the practice of justice, 
the recognition of another's rights, the protection of the weak by 
the powerful have not in themselves virtue to raise races — even 
the Indo-European race to a height which mere flesh and blood 
force cannot attain. An initial wrong has power to taint the soul's 
blood to the remotest issue. It is therefore this contamination of 
the spiritual currents of a people, which even the Indo-European 
race ought above every thing to dread and guard against. The 
wrongs done the negro cannot be redressed by an act of final and 
tremendous enormity such as this country would be guilty of were 
it to do what Prof. Cope urges it to do. Our posterity a hundred 
years hence will, I doubt not, regard us as half barbarian, and as 
proof that we were they, I fancy, will only have to point to the pro- 
position of an accomplished student of science, for the compulsory 
emigration of seven millions of people from their homes and coun- 
try for the preposterous purpose of preserving freedom for the 
white race and the purity of the Indo-European blood in the 
United States ! Archibald H. Grimlie. 

Hyde Park, Mass. 


To t/te Editor of The Open Coitrt : — 

In a recent number of The Open Court there appeared an 
article on the mathematical chances of heads or tails in the succes- 
sive throws of a coin. 



The author would lead one to think that the chances of head 
or tail in any one throw are affected by the results of previous 

This is a mistake, as would in fact appear from the metl^gd of 
explanation lised, had cxj instead of 20 been taken as the illustra- 
tive number within which the number of heads and tails areto be 
equal. Following the method of reasoning there used, wt have 
00 heads and c» tails as the result of co throws. Now suppose five 
heads thrown. Then 00 — 5 heads and co tails yet remain to be 
thrown, and the chance of a head on the sixth throw is expressed 
by c» — 5 divided by c» + c» — 5. This ratio is, of course, ex- 
actly one half, showing the chance of a head to remain unchanged. 

The expression 00 is here used in its ordinary mathematical 
sense of — greater than any number which may be assigned. .That 
OD is the number of throws that must be made before Bernouilli's 
law can be fulfilled will appear on a moment's serious thought. 
That is, if the ratio between heads and tails is to certainly vary 
from unity by a^'imount less than any assignable quantity, then 
the number of throws must be greater than any assignable quan- 
tity. Such being the case, any reasoning based on 20 or any other 
finite number as the number of throws, must be fallacious and 

That the results of previous throws cannot possibly have any 
bearing on the chances of future throws will appear with aJittle 

In the first place, common sense teaches us that once a throw 
executed, it belongs to the past and we pick up the dollar anew to 
all intents and purposes as though the preceding throw had never 
been made. The chances of any individual throw depend solely 
upon the conditions which limit it, and these are wholly contained 
in the present. The past has lost all hold on them. 

If the past could influence the present or future in such mat- 
ters, it would follow that the throwing of our man would influence 
that of another. Suppose, for example, two men, each throwing 
in succession, and suppose one has thrown six heads ; will the 
chances of the other's throwing a head be affected thereby ? As- 
suredly not. Suppose the men to be in opposite parts of the earth 
and throwing independently of each other. Will the chance of A 
in Chicago throwing a head be affected by the fact that just pre- 
viously in Calcutta, B has thrown six heads or six tails ? Most 
certainly not. If A's chances were thus affected, there would be 
no such thing as the calculation of chances or probabilities ; for 
pushing the principle to its logical limit, it would follow, in the 
case of the coin, that no man in any part of the earth couid throw 
a coin and know that he had even chances of head or tail. The 
chances would depend not only on all the throws he had ever 
made before, but also on all that anybody and everybody have ever 

And as with throwing a coin, so with all other events, Involv- 
ing chance or probability. If a man were to shake a die/ for in- 
stance, the chance of an ace would not be one sixth, but one sixth 
plus or minus a certain modification depending on all \he dice- 
throwing that has ever been done. 

But enough- has been said to show that the principlels falla- 
cious. The past, powerful as it is in many ways, cannot effect 
questions of chance or probability. 

As above stated, fhe general and only safe guide in such mat- 
ters is the cardinal principle that the probability of any event is 
determined solely and completely by the irrimediate conditions and 
limitations of its occurrence. 

A failure to understand this principle and a belief that in some 
inconceivable way past results do affect present and fului^e prob- 
abilities, are not unfrequently met with. They appear in the 
schemes of gamblers for so disposing their bets in games of chance 
as to surely win — schemes utterly delusive, of course, ks many 
know to their cost. We find the same idea also in tbewather 

quaint recipe for safety on board ship in time of action ; viz., 
watch where the first shot strikes the ship, and then place your 
head immediately behind that spot. 

A word or two in closing as to the elements which enter into 
the probability of throwing head or tail with a coin. 

The assumption that with an indefinitely great number of 
throws the ratio between the heads and tails will indefinitely ap- 
proach unity, can only be so when either event, //i^m/s or /tn7s, can 
happen with equal readiness, and there is no element resembling 
a personal equation or bias tending to give one a slight prepond- 
erance over the other. 

A slight lack of symmetry in the form or homogeneity in the 
mass of the coin would be such a disturbing influence, and its 
effect would certainly become apparent in a sufficiently great 
number of throws. Granting, however, a perfect coin, it seems 
at least highly probable that if an individual were to sit down and 
make a business of throwing it, that the ratio between heads and 
tails would not indefinitely approach unity, but that a tendency 
toward a preponderance in either heads or tails would become ap- 
parent. The causes of such a tendency would be in the nature of 
a personal equation and would result from his almost certainly 
falling into something in the nature of a routine of operations, 
which routine would affect slightly the results of the throwing. 

If we pass from the case of one individual with one coin to 
that of many individuals with many coins, it is probable that the 
differences from exact fulfillment would be evenly distributed, and 
we might in this case perhaps fairly expect a close agreement with 
the theory. The effect in any case due to this element of personal 
equation is slight, generally inappreciable in the limited range of 
ordinary experiment, and from this cause as well as from the fact 
that it is almost impossible to submit the matter to anything ap- 
proaching careful measurement, its consideration is omitted in the 
mathematical discussion of problems relating to choice, chance, 
and probability. W. F. Durand. 

Agricultural College, Mich. 


We have received a number of copies of T/ie lUustyated Med- 
ical News (London, 48 Queen Victoria Street), a special magazine 
of excellent make-up. Of the articles of interest we may mention 
the series by G. W. Hambleton, L.K.Q.C.P., on the "Sup- 
pression of Consumption," and a contribution by the same author 
on "Physical Development." After an exhaustive review of the 
causes of pulmonary disorders and the unnatural conditions of 
modern civilization, Mr. Hambleton says : "When we look at the 
position such conditions hold in civilization, at the advances that 
are being made by man's increasing knowledge of the operations 
of nature, and his application of that knowledge to his own pur- 
poses, and at the progressive increase of such tendencies, then we 
see that in consumption we have one of the processes by which 
an adjustment is being made between the body and the work it 
has to perform under the changing conditions of advancing civil- 
ization, by the removal of those who have a body in excess of that 
work, and that the survival of the so-called fittest is thereby 
effected." Mr. Hambleton's suggestions regarding the methods by 
which consumption may be prevented and the development of the 
chest effected, are eminently practical and recommendable. Our 
readers will profit much by a perusal of the articles. 

Die Eiliische Bedentung der Frauenbewegung (The Ethical Sig- 
nificance of the Woman's Rights Movement) formed the subject 
of the address of Helene Lange before the General Conference of 
the German Woman's Association at Erfurt in September last. It 
is eloquently and earnestly written. The sources of Miss Lange's 
inspiration are mainly American ; but the Ethics of Hoffding are 
often referred to in support of the general theses. (Berlin : L. 

The Open Court 


Devoted to the "Work of Conciliating Religion w^ith Seienee. 

No. 134. (Vol IV.— 4.) 


1 Two Dollars per Year 
I Single Copies, lo Cts. 


Human progress depends upon the dreams of en- 
thusiasts. The inventor, the discoverer, and the 
reformer are dreamers, who prophet-like see in their 
imagination things that other mortals know not of. 
Every one of such men might very well say : "I had 
a dream which was not all a dream." Their dreams 
become realities and many such dreams are common- 
place facts to us now. Indeed civilization consists 
of such realized dreams. How useful are these 
dreams ! 

We call dreams which are not all dreams, ideals. 
Why is not every dream as useful as a genuine ideal ? 
Because the stuff of which the ideal is made — I mean 
the genuine ideal only — is taken from the actual state 
of things as they exist in reality, and handled accord- 
ing to the laws of nature. 

James Watt took iron and steel and steam, and 
made them act according to their nature. He com- 
bined certain realities. He applied natural laws, and 
lo ! the combination of his thoughts revolutionized the 
world, and lifted all humanity upon a higher level than 
it had occupied before. The genuine ideal is a dream 
that genius shapes out of reality. 

We have become reverent toward the dreamer 
because of the usefulness of certain dreams. Dream- 
ers, it appears, command our respect even if they 
are but dreamers. A certain man once learned at 
school that our atmosphere exercises a constant pres- 
sure of fourteen pounds upon every square inch of our 
body — constituting a total pressure of about forty 
hundred-weights upon the surface of the skin of an 
average adult person. This man had a dream that he 
lived upon a planet without an atmosphere. People 
felt so free and easy, in the absence of all pressure, 
that they moved about like winged angels. He told 
his dream to his neighbors, he wrote it down and pub- 
lished it, and it is the one hundred and ninety-first 
or second edition that is now being sold. Humanity 
builds altars to the dreamer, because he is a dreamer; 
he had a vision. 

Every man that works for the progress of the 
human race has and ought to have our sincerest sym- 
pathy. We, all of us, should know that society in 
many respects, — perhaps in most respects, — is not 
what it ought to be. We have abolished slavery, but 

the laborer is not as yet the free, and independent, and 
intelligent man he ought to be ; not as yet is the em- 
ployer the humane, and intelligent, and well educated 
man he ought to be. The people perish from want 
of knowledge ; it is knowledge that will make the 
laborer free, it is knowledge that will make the em- 
ployer humane. Knowledge, if it is knowledge at all, 
means an acquaintance with facts as they really are, 
with natural laws and sociological laws, which latter 
are just as much laws of nature as gravitation or other 
natural laws are. And it is truth only that can make 
us free. 

There comes a dreamer who flatly proposes to 
abolish the law of gravitation. He explains in a 
marvelously lucid sketch that every man who falls and 
breaks his leg, falls only because of the law of gravi- 
tation. Things are heavy because matter gravitates 
toward the centre of the earth. All the troubles 
of transportation are inconveniences due to gravity. 
There is no misfortune or annoyance that has not its 
root in this vilest of all natural institutions — gravity. 
Come therefore and let us abolish gravitation ! 

A dreamer like that is called an idealist, and great 
respect is paid him by the unkowing many. It is diffi- 
cult to state whether such a dreamer, and all those in- 
fatuated by his dream, are to be envied or to be pitied 
for their illusions. 

Mr. Bellamy depicts a state of society where there 
is no competition. Competition is the struggle for 
life among peaceful human beings. It is the struggle 
for life that created man and human society and all 
progress of the human race. But then there is much 
misery that arises from the struggle for life. The 
lesson that life teaches is, in my opinion, the admo- 
nition to make the struggle for life more humane. Let 
us therefore educate the growing generation better 
than the former generations, let us adapt ourselves 
to nature, let us break down artificial barriers be- 
tween man and man, that the struggle for life may 
become a fair and honest fight for progress, that 
our competition may be an honest endeavor to do 
better and more useful work. Let us be fair to our 
enemies and to our competitors, and we shall soon 
find out, that the abler they are, the stronger and 
fiercer their competition is, the better it will be for us. 
They help us to progress, they force us to progress, 



however much worry they cause, we would certainly 
not be better off without them. 

Why should the relation between employer and 
employee be that of a master to his slave? It is 
partly now, and let us hope that in the future it will 
always be, looked upon as the co- operation of a worker 
with his co-workers, in which the one bears the main 
risk and will get a proportionate share of the profits, 
if there are any, while the others earn their fixed 
wages. Why should we abolish the principle of free 
enterprise, which encourages thrift, and progress, and 
invention, because there are some imperfections in its 
application ? 

In certain branches co-operation may, and I believe 
it will, become more practical than it is to-day. Such 
co-operation will in each case have to be based upon the 
freewill and assent of every independent individual, but 
it cannot — even not by the vote of a majority — be im- 
posed upon the whole nation. And if it could, it 
would not work. It would change all trades into in- 
dustrial armies and a few bosses would have to run 
and regulate the whole co-operative business of the 
nation. It would transform our present life of free en- 
terprise and competition into an enormous peniten- 
tiary, only very humanely instituted — supposing that 
all convicts would willingly submit to the rules of the 
institute. The imperial army as well as the imperial 
post office and railroad service of Germany are a par- 
tial realization of Nationalism. 

We want more chances for labor, more elbow-room 
for the courageous, especially for the poor. It is true, 
we demand that the license of the unprincipled be 
checked, but we do not want the liberty of anybody 
to be curtailed, be he a millionaire or an unskilled 

Mr. Bellamy proposes to abolish the struggle for 
life. He has told us in his little book all the advan- 
tages of the scheme, and they are many. We can dis- 
pense with all the tedious inventions of civilization ; 
we need no more private property, no money, no re- 
wards for industry. Thrift will be abolished, for we 
are told that "the nation is rich" and does not wish to 
encourage economy. Prisons are abolished, but it is 
to be expected that the asylums will be overcrowded, 
for criminals are locked up together with the insane. 
We return to the communism of savage society. We 
shall lose our independence. Some wiseacre of a 
phrenologist will settle the fate of a boy, whether he 
is to be a hodcarrier or a philosopher. With the 
evils of competition we shall abolish the most divine 
blessings : human freedom, independence, responsibil- 
ity, and above all self-reliance. 

We are confident that " the present order may be 
replaced by one distinctly nobler and more humane." 
But the new order of things cannot be established by 

the proposed panacea of Nationalism and the abolition 
of competition. The new order must grow and 
evolve out of the present state of things, not other- 
wise than our present civilization developed out of 
savagery. In the new order of things we hope all un- 
necessary struggle will be avoided ; we shall have less 
waste and a minimum of friction ; yet the law of com- 
petition will remain in a future and better state of so- 
ciety just as powerful as it ever was since time im- 
memorial and as it is to-day. 

Nature has not designed man to live for the mere 
enjoyment of life. Nature under penalty of degenera- 
tion sternly demands and enforces a constant pro- 
gress through struggle and work and sacrifice. And 
those who devote themselves to the pursuit of happi- 
ness, will soon find that they are following an ignis 
fatuus that leads them astray into the imperviable 
marshes of perdition. If a social reformer promises a 
millennium of happiness, be on your guard, for in 
that case he is misleading you. Look at his schemes 
with a critical mind and you will see that his Utopia 
is a fool's paradise. 

* * 

Mr. Bellamy's book and its popularity is one of the 
most ominous symptoms of our time. It is an outcry 
for the satisfaction of material wants and for pleas- 
ures ; a hunger for panem ei circenses to be provided 
by the government, by the nation. The average cit- 
izens of Rome during the Punic wars were by no means 
rich, but they possessed an indomitable love of inde- 
pendence, and the Republic at that time rested upon 
a sound foundation. But when the Romans cried 
for panem et circenses. Liberty died and Caesar ap- 
peared. Caesar gave them panem et circenses, and the 
price they had to pay for the trouble he took, is known 
in history. The people who want to be taken care of 
and catered to with bread and pleasures, have for- 
feited their claim to freedom. 

"Looking Backward" proposes to abolish the 
social law of gravitation which indeed causes many 
troubles in life but which at the same time produced 
and still produces our civilization. Thus the book is 
truly a looking backward to the primeval state of bar- 

Let us cease to dream the useless dreams of abol- 
ishing the laws of nature. Let us rather abolish the 
artificial barriers between the so-called higher and 
lower classes. Give the poorest a chance to acquire 
as good an education as the richest command. Fa- 
cilitate the opportunities of labor so that the indus- 
trious need not go begging for work. Thus we shall 
break down the hindrances that prevent progress, and 
in adapting ourselves to the laws of nature we shall 
better be prepared for a true and useful Looking For- 





It has often been said that no one can know any- 
thing of the Science of Language who does not know 
Sanskrit, and that that is enough to frighten anybody 
awa)' from its study. But, first of all, to learn San- 
skrit in these days is not more difficult than to learn 
Greek or Latin. Secondly, though a knowledge of 
Sanskrit maybe essential to every student who wishes 
to do independent work, and really to advance the 
Science of Language, it is not so for those who 
simply wish to learn what has been hitherto discov- 
ered. It was necessary for those who laid the foun- 
dations of our Science to study as many languages as 
possible, in order to find out their general relation- 
ship. Men like Bopp and Pott had to acquire some 
knowledge of Sanskrit, Zend, Gothic, Lituanian, Old 
Slavonic, Celtic, Armenian, Georgian, Ossetian, He- 
brew, Arabic, and Ethiopian, to say nothing of lan- 
guages outside the pale of the Aryan and the Semitic 
families. Their work in consequence was often rough, 
and it could hardly have been otherwise. When that 
rough work had been done, it was easy enough to 
proceed to more minute and special work. But it 
seems unfair, if not absurd, to find fault with pioneers 
like Bopp and Pott, because some of their views have 
been proved to be mistaken, or because they exagger- 
ated the importance of Sanskrit for a successful study 
of Comparative Philology. Without Sanskrit we 
should never have had a Science of Language ; that 
seems admitted even by the extreme Left. After the 
study of Sanskrit had once led to the discovery of a 
new world, it was but natural that the land should be 
divided and sub-divided, and that each scholar should 
cultivate his own special field. Thus Grimm chose 
the German languages for his special domain, Mick- 
losich the Slavonic, Zeuss the Celtic, Curtius Greek, 
Corssen Latin. There came, in fact, a reaction, and 
we were told at last that Sanskrit had nothing more to 
teach us. Not long ago Manchester, which has taken 
the lead in so many important movements, informed 
the world through the Times that the long-planned 
revolution had at last been successful, that Sanskrit 
was dethroned, that its ministers had been guillotined, 
and a new claimant had been installed, who had been 
in hiding in Finland. The Aryan language was a 
mere bastard of Finnish ! However, when the real 
sources of this information had been discovered, the 
panic soon came to an end, and scholars worked on 
quietly as before, each in his own smaller or larger 
field, unconcerned about the pronunciamentos of the 
Manchester or any other new school. If the rebel- 
lion meant no more than that Sanskrit had been shown 
to be the elder sister only, and not the mother of the 
other Aryan languages, then I am afraid that I myself 

must be counted among the oldest rebels. If it meant 
that the students of Comparative Philology couldhence- 
forth dispense altogether with a knowledge of San- 
skrit, then I feel sure that by this time the mistake 
has been found out, and Sanskrit has been restored to 
its legitimate throne, as prima inter pares among the 
members of the Aryan republic. 

It used to be said for a time that even the ABC 
of Sanskrit was extremely deficient and misleading, 
and that the system of the Aryan vowels in particular 
was far more perfect in Greek and German than in 
Sanskrit. Sanskrit, we were told, has written signs 
for the three short vowels only, a, T, Ti not for short 
? and ~o . It was declared to be a very great blemish 
that the two vowels ~e and o, which existed in the prim- 
itive Ar5'an speech, had been lost in Sanskrit. If, 
however, they were lost in Sanskrit, that, according 
to the laws of logic, would seem to show that Sanskrit 
also formerl)' possessed them, and possibly found 
that it could do without them. The same spirit of a 
wise economy may be observed in the historical pro- 
gress of every language. 

But it has now been recognised that, from a gram- 
matical point of view, the Sanskrit system of vowels 
is really far more true than that of Greek, German, or 
any other Aryan language. It seems to me altogether 
wrong, whatever the highest authorities may say to 
the contrary, to maintain that the Aryan languages 
began with five, and not with four short vowels. 

The Aryan languages possessed from the begin- 
ning no more than the well known four fundamental 
vowels, namely /, u, the invariable a, and the variable 
vowel, which changes between f, o, and rarely a. 
There are ever so many roots which differ from each 
other by having either a, /, u, or that fourtlr variable 
sound ; there are no roots that differ in meaning by 
having either a, £, or o as their radical. Hence (a), 
£, o represent one fundamental vowel only ; the)' are 
grammatical variations of one common type.* 

If we represent roots, as in Hebrew, by their con- 
sonants only, then we have in the Aryan languages a 
root consisting of D and H. With the radical vowel 
/, that root DIH means to knead, with the radical 
vowel !/ the root DUH means to milk. With, the 
third or variable vowel, the root Dfl-H means to burn, 
and it may appear in certain grammatical derivations 
as DaH, DeH, or DoH. We never find a root DaH 
by the side of a root DsH, or a root DsH by the side 
of the root DoH. What we find, and what has not 
yet been explained, is that certain roots show a de- 
cided predilection for f or for o. 

Here then we see how right Sanskrit grammarians 
were in admitting only four, and not five fundamental 
vowels, though it might have been better if they had 

* I use for the invariable a ; ", f , n. for the variable vowel. 



in writing also distinguished between the invariable 
a of AG, and the variable a of BHaR. Whether the 
variable vowel was in Sanskrit also pronounced differ- 
ently in different grammatical forms, we cannot tell, 
because in Sanskrit that variable vowel in the body 
of a word is never written. There are indications, 
however, in the changes produced in preceding con- 
sonants, which seem to speak in favour of such a 

And nowhere has the importance of a knowledge 
of Sanskrit been shown more clearly than in the ex- 
planation of these very vowel-changes, in Greek and 
German. Why the variable vowel appears as a, s, o 
or disappears altogether, why the second and third 
radical vowels are weakened or strengthened in the 
same way, remained a perfect mystery, till the key 
was found in the system of accentuation, preserved in 
the Vedic Sanskrit, and nowhere else.* 

But although in this, as in many other cases, 
Sanskrit betrays more of the ancient secrets of lan- 
guage thai! Greek or Latin or German, there is plenty 
of work, and most important work, to be done in 
every language, nay in every dialect, for which we 
want no direct aid from Sanskrit. Some of the most 
brilliant discoveries in the Science of Language have 
lately been made by students of Teutonic philology. 
The work begun in that sphere by Grimm and Scherer 
has been carried on without an}' flagging by Fick, 
Schmidt, Sievers, Osthoff, Collitz, Brugmann, and 
others in Germany, by De Saussure in France, by 
Ascoli and Merlo in Italy. The same work has been 
taken up with renewed ardour in England, where 
Ellis, Morris, Sweet, Skeat, Napier, Douse, and others 
have done most excellent work, and made valuable 
additions to our inherited stock of knowledge. 

Many more labourers, however, are wanted to cul- 
tivate this field of English scholarship. Thousands, 
as you know, have come forward to gather honey and 
bring it into the beehive at Oxford, where a Dictionary 
of the English Language is prepared which, when 
finished, need not fear comparison with the diction- 
aries of either Grimm or Littre. But there is much 
more work to be done in which other thousands might 
help, such as collecting spoken dialects, watching 
local pronunciation, gathering old proverbs, writing 
down with phonetic accuracy popular stories and 
poems, as repeated by old grannies and young children. 
If among some of my hearers to-day I have succeeded 
in raising an interest in language in general, and in 
kindling a love for their own language in particular, 
and if that interest and love will bear fruit, however 
small, — but nothing is too small in the eyes of a con- 

* U d a 1 1 a in Sanskrit means high, a n u d ft t [ a not-high. Originally the 
u d ft 1 1 a syllable represented what we now call Hochstufe. the a n u d fi 1 1 a 
Tiefsiufe, at least during the period when accent meant as yet musical pitch 

scientious scholar, — then I shall feel amply rewarded 
for having stayed here to attend your Meeting, which, 
I hope, may henceforth become a permanent institu- 
tion in the educational system of our country. 



Granted that truth is the highest aim of the hu- 
man mind, and the pursuit of it that which brings 
greater satisfaction to man than the pursuit of any 
other object ; granted that the deep-sea soundings of 
science in the vast ocean of phenomena, and its daring 
generalizations therefrom mark the steps of a world- 
embracing truth which entrances the imagination and 
feeds the ambitious mind; granted that all this repre- 
sents to man "the pearl of great price for which he 
will sell all that he hath," — still, this truth in its static 
form alone does not truly reveal the goal of man; 
Thought without action is like the beautiful frost- 
nipped blossoms that will not pass on into fruit. Truth 
in its dynamic form is that alone in which man first 
finds freedom for his whole nature, and perfect rest, — 
that rest in onward motion, visible in every atom and 
structure, organic and inorganic that exists in nature. 

I take the ground, therefore, that the form of 'phi- 
losophy called "Monism," so ably presented in The 
Open Court and in Fundamental Problems, is not 
only a system of thought which combines the richest 
fruits of philosophy with the latest significant facts of 
biological science, but that it has a work to perform, — 
that it not only is, but is for something in practical 
utility. Without professing to have grasped, or to be 
able to state, the full scope of its application to life, or 
to have seen aught but some of the minor, possible 
effects its all-embracing principle is capable of pro- 
ducing, I wish to speak of "Monism" as a possible 
working force in one direction, — viz., in its effects upon 
organized forms of religion, particularly at this time 
when something like the scientific form of religion in- 
dicated by its philosophy is everywhere apparent as the 
aim of the coming age. 

It is a fact, patent to whomsoever will open his 
eyes, that the statements of faith and principles in the 
older organizations of the Christian religion (we need 
go no further than these) are not in accordance with the 
later revelations of scientific truth. It is, also, just as 
much a fact that those elements in the psychic nature 
of man which have furnished the subjective grounds 
and immanent necessity for religion are, to-day, as 
active and imperative in their demands for exercise 
as ever. Indeed, the religious necessities of man grow 
greater with the increasing accumulations of scientific 
knowledge, and the increasing magnitude of the moral 
problems of life. 

If the above fact concerning organizations, to any 



of my readers needs confirmation, I would refer them 
to the internal emotions and struggles, permanent as 
well as spasmodic, visible in nearly all church organ- 
izations, especiall}' during the last half century. 

The strain upon the platforms of the churches still 
goes on. Physical science has entered the arena of 
critical strife, and presents solid facts over which the 
doctrines lamely stumble. Unlike speculative phi- 
losophy, science offers no palliative crutches to the 
disabled. Her decisions are like those of the Supreme 
Court ; from them there is no appeal. It is no longer 
the minor doctrines in the chain, "linked and strong," 
that are chiefly called in question ; it is the funda- 
mental statement upon which tliey all rest, — the the- 
ological statement of the being of God. This is the 
doctrine which is now on trial in the crucible of sci- 
entific thought, and it apparently has only one of two 
alternatives, — the being resolved into nothingness, or 
reappearing under a new form. 

Here, then, is presented the opportunit)' of a unitary 
philosophy, or, 1 might say, herein arises its necessity. 
Science has made no malicious attack upon religion. 
She has been simply obedient to the law of unity, that 
la\y which inheres in ^le nature of all known things, 
and her deep-lying facts, brought to view along the lines 
of this unity, have thetnsel_ves opposed dualism. On du- 
alism have every scheme of vicariously-purchased sal- 
vation and the doctrines of nearly every church organ- 
ization rested, and at the door of dualism has nearly 
every system of philosophy ended its labyrinthian 
travels. It has been God and the devil, matter and 
spirit, and the world has waited long for the solvent 
principle that should express the deeper unity. 

As the rough handed pioneer in the search for 
unity, science has gone on in advance. She has made 
many doubters as she has built her cabins beyond the 
line of the formerly known, and has invaded the mys- 
terious realm of the supernatural. She has created 
the materialist, who, dreamer above all mystics, 
dreamed he had at last a solid fact in matter ; and she 
has also given birth to the Agnostic, who, supremely 
cautious, strives to avoid a pit by giving it a negative 
in place of a positive name, and she has called into 
existence scores of others as her temporary compan- 
ions. All these await a unitary philosophy for their 
complete salvation from narrowness of thought. 

But there are those who await Monism with a pro- 
phetic apprehension of its approach. They are in- 
stinctive believers in a higher unity which they have 
seen hinted in their sacred books; they still look for 
the indicative star in the heavens instead of beneath 
the microscope. They even look beyond Christian- 
ity, — even while their hearts warm at its very thought. 
For they have seen Christianity on trial, as well as the 
creeds of its churches. They have seen the whole 

system of religion bearing this sacred name called be- 
fore the judgment seat of those universal principles of 
truth it claimed to represent ; have seen it asked to 
substantiate its claim to a monopoly of them, and 
their minds have been broadened by the verdict. 

"Liberal Christianity," so-called, is, or ought to 
be, a Cosmic religion, or a Cosmotheism, supported 
by and expressing a unitary philosophy. I am not 
sure that this name,. Cosmotheism, will co.ivey to the 
majority of my readers its best meaning. To name 
prematurely is to encumber, if not to endanger the 
child of our thought. I have waited for years for the 
spontaneous appearance of that name which should 
rightly characterize the full aim of this liberalizing 
movement in religion towards its destined goal, but 
have found every name that offered itself to contain 
some objectionable limitation. 

The idea I have had in mind needing this name 
was suggested by surrounding conditions, and points 
clearly to a religion that should not only be a Free Re- 
ligion, —that is, untrammeled by limiting dogmas, but 
so true in its truth-basis as to include freedom, and 
render unnecessary and even offensive the assertion 
of this in its name. It also points to a religion 
thoroughly ethical in its culture, because its funda- 
mental truths include all incentives necessary to that 
harmonious living pictured in the moral ideal, and to 
a religion so broad in its fellowship, that it not only 
welcomes all, but dares to trust thought to build a 
positive platform for all on philosophical convictions, 
broad as the laws of thought themselves, and suscep- 
tible of improvement in harmony with the constant 
increase of scientific knowledge. 

The word Cosmos, with its original idea of order 
and harmony, and in its extended idea, as stated by 
Humboldt, of "the system of law, harmony, and 
truth combined within the universe," together with 
the still broader idea growing upon man of the bound- 
lessness of the universe of mind and matter, furnishes 
the right breadth of field for that fundamental idea in 
religion, wfiich is a soul-melody with the All-Ensouled, 
and for that basic fact in morality, which is a tuneful 
harmony of our lives with life throughout the All. 

The full name, Cosmotheism, states a theology 
that is in harmony with the scientific thought of the 
age. Its God, as a visible presence in the unifying 
laws of every object, and in a similar unity through- 
out nature, is an existence that can not only be seen 
with the intellect, but felt through the emotions, re- 
joiced in as a tangible presence, communed with by 
all thankful hearts, who feel that they partake of 
Nature's life and Nature's gifts, and who aspire to the 
ideal in which it presents itself to us as the type of 
our race. Thus, in a Cosmic religion, none of those 
genuine elements which enter into religion, generically 



considered, such as worship, prayer, aspiration, and 
love, would be dropped out, but each resting upon a 
real foundation in a consciousness of the All, would 
give full religious satisfaction and essential poetic ex- 
pression to that part of our nature which looks be- 
yond all that is partial in human love and human ex- 
cellence, on to that world-embracing form of both 
which knows no bounds, and is ever full of promise to 
the limit-spurning human mind. The statement of 
common human experience in this wide- visioned, 
poetic side of man's nature, and of all known facts 
concerning his relations to the All, would constitute 
a Cosmic theology, having a definite basis in fact with 
a capacity for growth and adaptation commensurate 
with accumulating knowledge. 

1 cherish an interest in the unitary philosophy ad- 
vocated by The Open Court ; and that interest is a 
practical one. I am viewing it, not merely with the 
receptive, sympathetic mind of the lover of a compre- 
hensive theory, but with an eye to its possible effects 
upon the religious thought of the age. I am aware 
that the devotee to philosophical thought must have 
no ulterior aims concerning practical results, — that he 
must, in fact, renounce all but the one purpose of 
finding the truth, yea, sacrifice all in its pursuit, but I 
must accord to higher minds this noble devotion, and 
take the more humble position of welcoming the truth 
in its working garb among the present problems of 
life. Monism, or some unitary philosophy, will meet 
the present wants of men in thought and daily life 
when it can be reduced to their comprehension and 
taught in some form which will touch their lives. I 
know of no better way to do this than through that 
Cosmic religion which is already recognized among 
many liberal clergymen* as the positive form towards 
which the transition stage of liberal religion has ever 
pointed and in which it finds its explanation. 

"Liberal religion " is a significant name. It de- 
nominates a struggle in which religion is liberating 
itself from that which is choking its life. The name is 
not the pure symbol of religious freedom, nor is it the 
unmixed cognomen that pure religion deserves. Re- 
ligion itself includes the freest life of the soul beyond 
which there are no wider opening vistas, and its name 
is dwarfed by any modifying prefix. Liberal religion 
is the belittling name that expresses a want of free- 
dom, — a crippled life struggling with foreign bonds. 
Out of this transition stage there is being evolved a 
positive religion, or, to state it better, simply religion 
in its purity, to be supported by a positive philosophy 
of unity. 

No religion that has drawn to itself a powerful sup- 
port has been without its philosophy. Liberal religion 
kept itself barely upright on what could be exhumed 

* See Unity of Dec. 28, 1889. One of the editors (p. 11). 

from the burial grounds of its opponents in religion, 
with here and there a bone from various systems of 

I welcome therefore a unitary philosophy as a prac- 
tical working power, capable of putting a base under 
the most progressive thought of the age. The thought 
yet floats in the air, with, perchance, here and there a 
pretentious trestle-work of sentimentality which drags 
down rather than supports it. Heavier timbers on a 
solid foundation are needed. "Is your ideal in the 
air?" asked Thoreau, "That is where it ought to be; 
now put a base under it." Thoreau's recommendation 
ought to encourage some of our progressive, religious 
thinkers. They need only the base. That base must 
be a philosophical one, and, in harmony with the age, 
it must be monistic and not dualistic. 

Dualism is a half-way house in thought, at which, 
if a man tarries more than for a night's rest, he loses 
the singleness of his vision. It is a makeshift, a string 
in the harness, which starts the journey well but ends 
it in a pit. It is an externally sanctified dress beneath 
which are the cloven feet ; and science treats this figure 
as Martin Luther treated some of his apparitions, — ■ 
fights it under its true name. 

The unitary philosophy can be taught the masses 
of the people, old and young, through evening school 
and Sunday school instruction, and in Sunday services 
that give free exercise to man's ideal aspirations 
towards moral unity. In the latter could be used all 
the poetry, melody, and beauty found in art and nature, 
and in the former could be employed such modern 
pedagogic methods as are already found to be best in 
the reduction of abstract thought to the comprehen- 
sion of minds, trained only in the one-sided perception 
of concrete forms. 

Philosophy in former days reached down to the 
masses through the mystic thought spoken in the 
symbol. It satisfied the emotions with its poetry, but 
it required the mind to reach first principles through a 
salto mortale, that to the scientific mind was a leap in 
the dark. It worked passably well so long as the im- 
agination furnished the principal entrance into the hu- 
man mind. But the working days of this method are 
past, — past in philosophy, in religion, and in morals; 
and the teachers of truth in a Cosmic religion must 
recognize the change. The present is the day of ob- 
ject lessons. Starting with facts and objects in every 
day experience, all of which are alive with God and 
expressive of universal laws, the mind of the child and 
of the humblest thinker can ascend step b}' step to 
general principles that govern classes of objects, races 
of men, as well as individual morals, and this educa- 
tion can extend itself to include all the poetry and 
beauty that can enter each individual mind as well as 
all the exact knowledge. By this process the legitimate 



symbolism of all forms of beautj' expressive of the 
ideal could be used, and far more effectively used than 
the special sj'mbolism of Oriental lands, already re- 
peatedly made over to fit the out-growing forms of 
younger generations, and for whose antique stjde one 
must cultivate a special taste. 

These closing words briefly indicate a course by 
which the Cosmotheism already existing in potential 
form in every community, could go hand in hand with 
a unitary philosophy in instructing the great mass of 
the unchurched, and independent thinkers generally, 
in those fundamental principles of known truth which 
would bring satisfaction to their minds and a nobler 
and purer tone to their lives. For this work the fields 
are already white with the harvest. 




M-ANv persons however, Mr. Harrison among the 
number, seem to think that the emotion of gratitude 
is the main, the indispensable element of religion. 
This I think is a mistaken idea. Mr. Spencer has 
shown how little of what we call gratitude is due from 
us to our progenitors, men who consciously and right 
ly laboring for themselves, necessarily carried the race 
upward by their efforts towards self-advancement. 
So common is the notion that gratitude is a duty to 
be religiously inculcated, that most persons would be 
shocked by the suggestion that there might be a con- 
trary opinion. 'What others give as duties,' says 
Whitman, ' I give as living impulses. Shall I give 
the heart's action as a duty?' Gratitude, as com- 
monly understood, is supposed to be a resultant union 
of personal affection and the sentiment of justice due 
from one who is benefited towards a benefactor. 

From one view it is an eminently proper sentiment 
which the generosity of a patron is supposed to excite 
in all worthy objects of his bounty ; a humility of the 
heart, which a mean man who is strong wishes to re- 
ceive, and a mean man who is weak is willing to render. 
It is, in fact, a tattered remnant of the feudal, aristo- 
cratic patchwork, which the present age is tearing to 
shreds, with so much besides that is false, flimsy, and 
bad. But, as commonly understood, gratitude is that 
sentimental something which is recognized as due 
where there is no legal or juridical indebtedness. 

Now I submit that this sentimental something is 
a thing which should never be inculcated as a duty, 
which should never be expected by a benefactor, and 
should never be regarded in the light of duty by the 
person benefited. To be so inculcated and so regarded 
is, it seems to me, to make a subject for moral maxims 
of what should be and can only be a spontaneous 
emotion of the heart. It is to trouble the pure spring 

of the affections, and endeavor to make act with the 
regularity of an artificial fountain the one thing above 
all others in human nature which demands untram 
meled freedom. It is gradually coming to be under- 
stood that the affections cannot be constrained. 

I suppose it is no longer taught as a duty that a 
child should love its parent. If a father would be 
loved by his child he now endeavors to win the child's 
affection. Assuming that they are both normal human 
beings, if he fails in this it is either because he has 
not taken the fitting method, or because there is some 
obstacle in his own nature or in that of the child which 
renders affection difficult if not impossible. But love 
cannot be gained by preaching the duty of affection, 
and it is precisely so with gratitude. There may be 
the consciousness of indebtedness, but if this should 
be accompanied by a feeling of dislike or by indiffer- 
ence it would hardly be called gratitude. Gratitude 
then is not a duty any more than love is a duty. 

The propriety of this sentiment is to be regarded 
from two sides, from the side of the person benefited 
and from the side also of the person who confers the 
benefit. Take the case of two friends, one of whom 
has done the other a kindness. What should we think 
of him if he expected his friend to be grateful? What 
should his friend think if he knew that gratitude was 
expected from him ? Would he not hasten to cancel 
the supposed obligation? Does any high-minded man 
do a kindness looking for the gratitude of the recip- 
ient? Would he not do it if he thought he would not 
be so repaid — if Jie knew that his action would be re- 
garded as a friendly matter of course ? Take again 
the relation between parent and child. Does a gen- 
erous father expect gratitude from his children ? Would 
he not be satisfied with love ? Will he give his purest 
affection to his child and then expect jt to be grateful 
from a sense of duty ? Will he give his best affection 
to his child and then, be satisfied with anything less 
than the child's spontaneous regard? And if he finds 
he cannot have this, will he denounce the child for its 
lack of feeling, its lack of gratitude ? If he could do 
so I should not greatly admire him. 

A deity of the moral stature of one of the ancient 
theologies might demand from its subject creatures a 
worshiping gratitude, but can we imagine a deity 
such as is not beyond the conception of an ordinarily 
good man desiring it? Yet Mr. Harrison's object of 
worship, the Great Being, Humanity, would find this 
sort of incense sweet in its nostrils. Does it not occur 
to one that this worshipful gratitude savors very much 
of self-adulation ? It will be said that the Great Being, 
Humanity, being unconscious does not receive this 
flattering incense, but if an unconscious humanity 
does not receive the gratitude of its conscious parts, 
where is the need for offering it? The point is simply 



this, if a benefiting Power be great enough it will de- 
sire no reward of gratitude or aught else from its 
beneficiary, and if the creature benefited be simple 
and good, it will accept the gift as a child from its 
parent without thought of any possible return in the 
way of gratitude. There has been too much preaching 
of gratitude. In a society of free, affectionate, and 
independent 'persons the word would lose its mean- 
ing. It can never be the teaching of any religion of 
the future worthy the name. 

The working value of the religious idea, as it 
seems to me, lies in its power for union, its power for 
organization. From this view Religion might truly 
be termed the social emotion. If it is feeling that 
divides men, it is emphatically feeling that unites 
them. We know what a bond there is in family feel- 
ing, what a bond in the sentiment of patriotism. 
Religion is that comprehensive bond which should in- 
clude all these. The success of Christianity was due 
largel}' to the fact that it was all-embracing. It made 
no distinctions of race or caste. It was intended for 
all mankind. It has been found inadequate, but no 
religion which attempted less than this could displace 
it. In union is strength, in union is happiness. We 
all know what loss results from the divisions and 
acrimonies of parties and sects. There is one charac- 
teristic of the society of the middle ages under Catho- 
licism we well might envy it. It somehow presents an 
aspect of wholeness and totality. Can as much be 
said for our own time? Take France for instance. 
How disorganized society there seems, how near the 
verge of dismemberment. England, at this distance, 
does not appear in much better case. Doubtless the 
causes which contribute to this disorganized condition 
are manifold. But how largely these causes are 
owing to the disintegration of the old religious and 
political order, no one can say. I hope it will not be 
supposed that I am saying anything in defense of the 
old order. No one rejoices more than I that its time 
at last came. But I would that the time were ripe 
for that rounded and more perfect successor, that 
purer and finer organization which I am persuaded 
is destined to succeed it. 

We are in a transition stage, we say. We are torn 
and tosssd between the old and new. All things are 
at question, opinion is in a ferment, mental rest, and 
tranquility are almost unknown. But there will be an 
end to all this. A time will come when father and son 
will not be torn apart by conflicting opinions, when 
friends will no longer be severed by dissenting views 
which are as the breath of life to them. When men 
and women shall not be obliged to build themselves 
separate temples, for the reason that they cannot all 
meet together on a common ground of feeling and 
opinion. A mighty force toward this desired consum- 

mation, as its unsettlement has resulted in disorder, 
will be what men have called Religion. And when 
that time shall arrive, that which shall preserve and 
keep entire peoples happy and united, shall be a com- 
mon religion. To this both the sciences and the arts 
shall contribute. Its purpose shall be to guide men, 
to encourage them : to celebrate the good, the beau- 
tiful, the true ; to teach gentleness, tolerance, progress. 
But its main idea shall be union ; for as the harmonious 
working together of all his organs and faculties is the 
health of the individual, so the harmonious co-opera- 
tion of all the parts of society in a happy union of in- 
terests would be the health and perfection of the social 

In future, then. Religion will mean more than ever, 
what it has always very largely meant in the past, the 
fostering and bringing within one order whatever tends 
to unite and elevate mankind. Every religion, no 
matter what were its supposed relations to the super- 
natural, has aimed to do this, defective though its 
methods may have been. But in rearing the church 
of mankind he would be blind, indeed, who did not see 
that those supposed relations with the supernatural 
of the elder churches held a kernel of truth within 
their husks of superstition. Can any one suppose, for 
example, that the enthusiasm which the name of Jesus 
of Nazareth stirs is stirred simply by the grandeur of 
his human attributes — by the man, Joseph the Carpen- 
ter's son? No, the emotion excited is a profounder 
one than any mere human regard, however powerful, 
could arouse. It is as the son of the living God — the 
connecting link between humanity and the great 
Power on which humanity depends, that the name 
of Jesus is so potent. And when the heart of each 
man goes with its treasures of feeling to human- 
ity, recognizing in it the Human expression of this 
Power, as Christians have recognized its human e.\- 
pression in Jesus, then will a Religion, which may 
well be named the Religion of Humanity, stir large 
and ever larger multitudes, as the name of Jesus has 
been wont to move the assemblages of Christendom. 

Man does not live of himself. Whatever beauty 
there is in human nature is a beauty given, a beauty 
derived, from maternal Nature, as we say, but beneath 
and beyond Nature we recognize that Infinite and 
Eternal Power on which the hopes, the fortunes, and 
the destiny of mankind depend. Let us not evade 
this : either mankind is self-created, self-sustained, or 
it has been created (terms are unimportant) and is 
sustained by a Power greater than itself. This is the 
kernel of truth in the teachings of theologies, and 
this is what men must recognize to the end of time. 
Man is nothing of himself. The suns wax and wane, 
planets speed along their destined paths, they become 
the abode of life, and life grows cold and dies ; and 



on their tiny islet, washed by the ocean of infinite 
space, the generations of men arise and pass. And 
shall this helpless atom, momentarily issuing amid 
the stress and rush of multitudinous forces, pretend 
to cut himself off from the mighty Influence which 
controls him and do himself homage as to a divinity? 
In man is beauty and the perception of beauty, in 
man is goodness, in man is elevation of thought and 
feeling (tried necessarily by human standards) ; yet 
surely we must each admit that man has not made 
these things for himself, but that they are the mani- 
festations through human beings of qualities inherent 
in that Cosmos of which human life forms an in- 
finitesimal part. 

And thus the emotions which the thought of the 
Infinite arouses, and the emotions which belong to us 
as members of the great human family, will inter- 
mingle and supplement each other. If humanity be 
weak and finite, it is supported by the infinite and 
omnipotent of which it is the child. Thrilled by the 
might and magnificence of the universe, we can yet 
feel that we are not aliens on an unknown shore, 
that we have not drifted hither, the sport of chance 
and death and birth, that the Power which produced 
us is greater than we, and that we may with trust- 
ing and faithful hearts take spiritual rest in this house 
of Nature where we dwell. 

And then the human, what Mr. Harrison calls 
the practical side of this Religion, which shall be 
large enough for a citizen of the world, for a patriot 
whose countrymen are all mankind ; all the tender 
relations of husband and wife, parent and child, 
brother and sister ; all the sweetness of love, all 
the sacredness of friendship — these have a part in 
religion. Thej' are religion. Whatever tends to make 
social life whole and sound is religious. All high 
emotion is religious, all earnest and disinterested 
endeavor is religious, constant faith is religious, all 
scientific ardor is religious. The passion for truth of the 
philosopher, the passion for righteousness of the moral 
teacher, the passion for beauty of the poet^these are 
all religious. Whatever lifts to loftier heights of con- 
templation, to sweeter purity of feeling, to a fearless 
faith which believes that if it be ' a lucky thing to be 
born,' it may also be 'a lucky thing to die,' and that 
the only unlucky thing is to falter and be false — this 
is all religious. 

Social devotion, as Mr. Harrison says, is religion, 
but that is also religion which prompts us to lift ever 
and ever further folds of the mysterious veil which 
surrounds us. After all the individual life is little ; 
the life of the race is more, but we can conceive its 
limits. Whether we can or not, we know it to be 
limited and conditioned. Why should we pretend 
that we stand alone. A friend of mine of a somewhat 

intense disposition once said to me, with reference to 
the question of the immortality of the soul, that if this 
span of 60 or 70 years were the end of all, he would 
not consider it worth while. He was young and de- 
sired the infinite. The human mind seems to demand 
the inexhaustible ; it hates the limited and com -non- 
place ; and I almost think that if we could conceive 
the universe as measurable and find out the secret of 
it to-morrow, we should begin to regard it as rather 
a poor affair. Carlyle says somewhere, in illustration 
of this quality of our nature, that if a newsboy were 
given possession of half a universe, he would immedi- 
ately turn eyes of longing toward the other half. I 
suppose he would want more territory. There would 
be no satisfaction in fishing within one's own bound- 

For me the question as to whether primitive men 
worshiped natural objects in themselves, or as the out- 
ward manifestations of inward powers or spirits, is of 
secondar)' importance. If we examine all the more 
important religions known to us, we find them taking 
cognizance of two grand facts, — the Infinite, giving rise 
to the sentiments of wonder, awe, and cognate emotions, 
and the humanly finite, filling us with the related feel- 
ings of love, pity, charity, etc. On the one side human- 
ity, the human expression of the Infinite Power, with 
its strengths and weaknesses, its beauty and deform- 
ity, its joys and sorrows, its great needs; on the other 
side the Cosmic Power, called by whatever name, 
Jove, Jehovah, Allah, the Great Spirit, the Deity, the 
Infinite, and Eternal Energy from which all things 
proceed, which is not less but greater than personal- 
ity, mark : the Power which was in the infinite past 
ere the parent sun from which our earth draws its 
life took form from the void, and which will be in the 
infinite vistas of the future, when our sun and the 
system of suns to which he belongs, will have again 
dissolved 'like the baseless fabric of a vision.' What 
the meaning of the Mystery, and what humanity's 
meaning and purport here, it is not given us to know ; 
but to say that there is no consciousness of 'Mystery 
and Omnipresent Power ' ; or that this consciousness 
does not stir the profoundest emotions of awe, wonder, 
and desire, which in many men have risen to the 
point of ecstatic rapture, is, it seems to me, to admit 
an extremely low condition of spiritual life or to palter 
with one's primary intellectual assurances. Such an ad- 
mission inspires something of the wonder which some 
at least have felt on reading the expression ascribed 
to the great French philosopher — that the heavens 
declare not the glory of God, but the glory of Hip- 
parchos and Newton ! 

The only lasting amaranthine flow'r on earth 

Is virtue; the only lasting treasure, truth. — Cowper. 




In spite of the many astonishing results that have 
been obtained through hypnotic treatment, we never- 
theless must beware of anticipating more than it re- 
ally can be expected to achieve. It is perhaps natu- 
ral that the idea of rest should act soothingly upon 
the nerves, but, still, we must not imagine that the 
illusion that we hear well will cure deafness, or the 
illusion that we possess excellent eyesight will remove 
the blindness of a cataract. A correct view of the 
nature of ideas will guard us from erroneous expecta- 
tions of this kind, and physicians therefore will have 
to limit the application of psychical means (and es- 
pecially of h)'pnotism and suggestion) to such phys- 
iological conditions that can directly or at least in- 
directly be reached and influenced by psychical meth- 
ods. Psychical cures, accordingly, must be restricted 
in the main to nervous diseases. 

We consider it as our duty on this occasion to 
caution against the abuse of hypnotism that is fre- 
quently practiced by half-scientific people and some- 
times even by prominent physicians. Hypnotism, as 
a means of cure, should be employed as little as 
possible, and in such cases only where natural sleep 
cannot be produced ; and even then it must be em- 
ployed with discretion. 

Dr. Luys reports several cases in which patients 
hopelessly ill have been restored to health by the ap- 
plication of hypnotism. He speaks, for example, of a 
man who had been debilitated by insomnia. His di- 
gestion was impaired, his walk tottering, the nervous 
system prostrated, and his entire constitution was un- 
dermined. He had been given up by several physi- 
cians. Dr. Luys treated him several times in vain, 
but finally with success. The patient improved per- 
ceptibly, and soon was perfectly cured. To cure 
nervous diseases that are caused by insomnia, in 
fact, seems to me the main purpose to which h5'pnosis 
can profitably be applied. 

There are also reported cases of inveterate vices 
and evil hdbits, (for instance dipsomania,) that are 
said to have been completely cured by means of hyp- 
notic suggestion. And the applicability of hypnosis 
in certain desperate cases, when all other expedients 
have failed, may under exceptional conditions likewise 
be justified. 

The rotating mirror invented by Dr. Luys seems 
to be the best and least injurious means of producing 
artificial sleep. It is an instrument with two wings 
not unlike the automatic fly- fan, only much smaller 
and studded with small glittering pieces of glass. The 
wings are fixed upon a pin, which when wound up 
sets them into a rapid revolving motion. The patient 
being comfortably seated in an arm-chair, is requested 
to stare at the mirror. The giddily rapid, monotonous 

rotation by and by tires the eyes and produces a feel 
ing of fatigue, so that the patient is soon very likely 
to fall asleep. 

It is more than doubtful whether the anaesthesia 
of the cataleptic condition should be employed in ope- 
rations. Narcotics have hitherto proved by far more 
reliable and less injurious. 

It does not seem advisable to employ the cataleptic 
state in cases of childbirth, as Dr. Luys and other 
French physicians have done. To be prepared for 
the occasion, it is necessary that many weeks pre- 
vious to her confinement, the woman be hypnotized 
daily. If this were not done, the hypnosis would 
most likely not succeed at the critical moment. But 
this exemption from the throes of a few painful hours 
are bought at ari exorbitant price ! We have to con- 
sider that henceforth throughout the whole life the 
woman will remain predisposed to hypnotic states. 
And still worse : a fatal germ of the same predisposi- 
tion is most probabi}' implanted in the infant born. 

A predisposition to hypnotism, at all events, must 
be regarded as one of the most dangerous kinds of 
disease. It is an extremely serious misfortune. A pre- 
disposition to hypnosis is a diseased, abnormal state of 
the nerves. Individuals who either by nature or through 
artificial methods possess a predisposition of this kind, 
are but to a limited degree their own masters. Not 
only the hypnotizer himself has an absolute control 
over them, but every stranger, by skillful manipulation, 
may influence their soul-life, and can render them ser- 
viceable to his private ends. 

It is maintained by some hypnotizers that en- 
croachments of this sort can be prevented, by impart- 
ing to the subject the suggestion, that he should not 
submit to be hypnotized by any one but his own hyp- 
notizer or physician. But, as a matter of fact, every 
suggestion can be counteracted or modified by another 
suggestion. An impostor might easily introduce him - 
self as the physician's deputy, and there are a hundred 
other means at his disposal. Once having been ad- 
mitted into the confidence of the subject, he will 
quickl}' usurp the entire control over his or her soul. 

We certainly should regard it as a national calamity 
if the majority of a people had acquired a predisposi- 
tion to hypnotism. The independence of individuals 
would be destroyed, for that trait consists in the ca- 
pacity to resist obnoxious suggestions. It is generally- 
admitted by all psychologists that hypnotism affords an' 
easy means for criminals safely to commit their crimes 
through unconscious middlemen as instruments of the 
deed. The danger of hypnotism is increased by the 
possibility of "timing" the execution of a post-hyp- 
notic suggestion. Forel says upon the subject : 

" The enormous importince of suggestion at appointed time 
or ' a echeance' is manifest We are able for a definite period of 


time to predetermine the thoughts and resolutions of hypnotized 
subjects when the hypnotizer himself is no longer present : in ad- 
dition one can give to the suggestion the appearance of a free de- 
cision of the will. One is further able to suggest to the hypnotized 
subject the belief that the impulse did not come from the hypno- 
tizer. Nay, with highly suggestible people we are even able suc- 
cessfully to suggest the total amnesia of the hypnotization : ' You 
have never been hypnotized, ' we may say ; ' if you are asked, swear 
before God, that in all your life you have neferonce b^en hypno- 
tized ; I myself have never hypnotized you.' 

" I am perfectly aware, that in this consists, perhaps, the most 
appalling danger of hypnotism in the administration of criminal 

The dangers to which hypnotic subjects are ex- 
posed in the respect that they may become instruments 
of crime in the hands of unscrupulous criminals, great 
though they may be, are trifles compared to the 
dangers rising from their own auto-suggestions. Hyp- 
notic subjects cease to be able to control their own 
ideas. Hallucinations may come to them at any 
moment and lead them to crimes or to follies of all 

Dr. Luys, who, if he is partial, is rather prejudiced 
in favor of hypnotism, says : 

" Hypnotized subjects, by the very fact that they are under 
the influence of a quite special mental state, or even subjects that 
are neuropathic by nature, are apt to present this strange phenom- 
enon, that through the automatic action of the cells of their brains 
they will produce truly autogenetic suggestions, just as insane 
persons are seen to create fixed and spontaneous ideas. At one time 
they will tell jou, that they have met with some extraordinary ex- 
perience, have received certain strange proposals, are acquainted 
with persons of high social standing ; or else, they will accuse some 
acquaintance of their circle of having spread abroad slander, of 
robbing, or of seeking to wrong them. Still, all these denuncia- 
tions are made with a mien of absolute sincerity, and if one did not 
know such subjects from their peculiar psychological point of view, 
one might really be tempted to lend faith to their statements. It is 
precisely mental habits of this kind that frequently cause the 
society of h)pnotic subjects to prove so irksome and well-nigh 
unendurable in the wards of public hospitals. 

" This likewise cnstitutes a point of contact of hypnotism 
with insanity, because these cases of suggestions very frequently 
are produced either by sensorial illusions or by persistent halluci- 
nations, and from this point of view hypnotic subjects present 
the exact state of mind of persons laboring undtr the hallucina- 
tion of persecution." 

The dangers arising from auto-suggestion and self- 
hj'pnotization are confirmed almost by every one who 
is familiar with the subject. Professor Lombroso,* 
of Turin, reports among many other instances the 
following case. 

"An artillery officer, who was hypnotized at a public seance, 
afterwards became almost insane. From time to time he had 
attacks of spontaneous hypnotism at the sight of any shining ob- 
ject. He would follow a carriage lamp in the street, as though 
spell-bound. One evening, if his fellow-officer had not saved him, 
he would have been crushed to death by going directly towards an 
approaching carriage. A violent hysterical crisis followed this 
and the man had to take to his bed." 

The whole purpose of a liberal education consists 
in the freedom, independence, and self-reliance of the 
individual. Accordingly, we can observe that in coun- 
tries where men and women are raised with a love of 
liberty and independence there are comparatively few 
symptoms of hypnotism. In countries in which children 
are brought up to become mere instruments in the 
hands of priests, the inclination to hypnosis is com- 
paratively strong. Let us not increase the natural 
tendency of weak characters to allow themselves to be 
guided blindly ; and therefore let us be careful to avoid 
the dangers of hypnotism. 

The growing generation should learn, neither to 
shut out new ideas nor indiscriminately to accept 
them, but to receive them with critique and to arrange 
them in proper order in the storehouse of general 
knowledge. This is necessary above all in a repub- 
lic in which every citizen is called upon to take part 
in the government of the state, in the election of the 
authorities, and in the framing of the laws. p. c. 

* See Frederik Bj( 

Hypnotism, Humboldt Library, No. 113, p. 123. 


People agree far better when they talk about the concrete 
than the abstract. Abstractions and geneiralizations play the mis- 
chief with clearness and unity of thought. A fog seems suddenly 
to settle down on our minds. Generalizations, when in the hands 
of the uneducated, are snares which fatally entrap many a mind 
that naturally has a clear perception of individual ideas It takes 
a mind of some training to generalize justly — to grasp largely an 
abstract idea. 

When I am asked (as sometimes we are io literary club con- 
versations) if I think ethics or the moral sense by itself and unsup- 
ported by the religious sense, or by the imagination, or by the 
instinct of fraternity among men, is sufficient to sustain society, I 
am led towards a trap into which I have no idea of tumbling. I 
reply, ' ' These are imperfectly abstract ideas ; generalizations 
which are barren of any useful resultant thought until carried 
higher up." And I would rather not answer questions so stated; 
or, if I give an answer, it will only be by asking a counter-ques- 
tion, " What do you mean by ethics or the moral sense ? " And 
if it is answered, " The moral sense is the natural instinct of right 
and wrong," then I say, " Every one has this instinct, but some 
infinitesimally, others in superabundance, " And this brings us right 
down to the individual experience or the concrete fact, and the 
answer should be, "Any given society will be governed by the 
majority of consciences, whatever those consciences may be. If 
the prevailing conscience of a nation, for instance, be sound, full, 
well-balanced, that nation will conduct itself well, if not, ill." Then 
as to the relation of the moral to the religious sense, I must make 
the same statistical form of thought, and say, " Those individuals 
who unite a good conscience with a high and sound religious in- 
stinct are the best specimens of men, as so far defined ; and a ma- 
jority of such will be the best safety for a State," and vice versa. 
But other elements must be recognized, such as the imagination, 
the affections, the sentiment of brotherhood. 

Of course, I know that none of us can think or speak without 
rising into the abstract. It is a natural tendency of the mind, and 
one of the noblest — the true sign of progressive manhood, of the 
wise and philosophic mind But wise men and philosophers of 
the highest grade are exceedingly rare. Individual and unrelated 
ideas come first in the order of mental development; and these 


flow primarily from spontaneous sources. Abstractions and gen- 
eralizations come later. The first correspond to melody in music, 
the second to harmony. The mass of men love melody— the musi- 
cians need the fuller developments of harmony. 

There is a kind of pseudo-conservatism which may sometimes 
come from imperfect generalization or the habit of shaping one's 
opinion or belief outside and off the philosophic centre of gravity. 
And the same might be said of certain kinds of scepticism which 
are often but the protest of uninformed and somewhat crotchety 
minds against half-truths that set up for whole truths, and shams 
that would persuade the world that they are realities. 

Sound generalization becomes more difficult in pr portion to 
the comple.xity of human life. Therefore, the continual need of a 
broader philosophy as we advance from the simple and mere 
homogeneous relations towards the heterogeneous. 

C. P. Cranch. 

either animal, vegetal, or mundane, and with that riddance we 
foreclose, on apodictic data, the whole merely provisional Spiritual 
realm of shadows. R. Lewins, M. D. 

London, February, iSgo. 



" If it be possible to perfect [rationalize] Mankind, the 
means of doing so will be found in the Medical Sciences." 
— Descartes. 

To the Editor of The Open Court .•— 

Very few words seem necessary to clear up the difficulty the 
Editor of The Open Court finds in my usage of the terras Self and 
Ego as f-tated in his note appended to my article "On the Auto- 
plastic Synthesis of the Universe," at page 2098 of this serial for 
February 13th last. I use the two words as synonyms and imply 
by them the complete subjectivity of object— the latter being en 
tirely foreclosed by immersion in the former. So that the subject- 
Self, or Ego, or Solipsismal Monism, is substituted for that ani- 
mistic Dualism, upon which inter alia miil/a, Religion, in its usuil 
sense of Divine Worship, is based. For it is self-evident ihat if 
Self be all in all, no Worship is possible except Self-Worship — a 
position which necessaiily relegates the object of any form of Wor- 
ship to the status of Fetichism, i. e., of a self-created Eidolon. 
Wordsworth's nun, " breathless with adoration," never really gets 
out of .tt'//'-abstraction and j-e-^-absorption and thus an fond of self- 
communion. After all, this is nothing more than Kant's negation 
of Thing, per se, the sole alternative to which being Thing /t'/- me, 
only reasoned out with a completeness impracticable to that su- 
preme thinker, from the state of the physical and natural sciences 
at his epoch, when none had any existence except Newtonian As- 
tronomy. Anatomy, or Somatology, is, as nearest to Self, or rather 
"very Self" itself, the real focus, or burning point of all the 
other more distal ones. And yet, even in our own day, the latter 
receives least attention. It is quite ignored, for instance, in Pro- 
fessor F. Max Miiller's article: "The Cradle of the Aryas," in the 
same issue of The Open Court (page 2087), in which the great phi- 
lologist enumerates, as essential to education, Geology and Ge- 
og aphy, Astronomy, History, Philology, Religion, and Philoso- 
phy, not mentioning that science in which all the others meet, 
and without which, indeed, a^l Science, in the most real and lit- 
eral sense of the nullity, were Nescience. It is Anatomy, and not 
Philology, as he asseris, "that teaches us what we are, " or at 
least lays the only sound foundation for " Self-Knowledge, Self- 
Reverence, and Sslf Control," which alone, as Lord Tennyson 
sings " lead life to Sovereign Power." Leib, which is German for 
Body or Soma really connotes both that word and life. Indeed, 
no words have yet been, or are ever likely to be coined, to express 
meanings which transcend Matter and Life — Psyche, Pneuma, 
God, i. e.. Lord (Khoda), Saint, Spirit, Salvation, etc., are ex- 
amples ; all being ultimately resolvable into anatomical or Medical 
terms. When we define Life "as the sum total (Bichat, tout en- 
semile) of the organic functions," we get rid, at one blow, of soul, 


Inebriety Its Etiology, Pathology, Treatment, and Jurisprudence. 

By Norman Kerr, M. D.. F. L. S. London : H. K. Lewis, 

136 Gower Street, W. C. 

The present work, of which we have the second edition before 
us, is the outcome of a quarter of a century of experience in dealing 
with cases of inebriety and of a careful examination of the results 
of the researches of others. Dr. Kerr claims to have endeavored 
to furnish merely a systematic treatise on the disease of inebriety, 
"avoiding any discussion of the general questions involved in the 
temperance movement as foreign to his purpose " His position 
is that inebriety is " a disease, as curable as most other diseases, 
calling tor medical, mental, and moral treatments " ; reference is 
had only to "those in whom either the habit of drinking or some 
inherited or other cause has manifetly set up the diseased con- 
dition we designate inebriety, the characteristic symptom of which 
is an overpowering impulse to indulge in intoxication at all risks "; 
it belongs to the group of 'diseases of the nervous system,' and its 
nearest ally is ' insanity '. Though Dr. Kerr is a firm believer in 
our responsibility to a higher power for the proper use of our 
faculties, and acknowledges that intemperance has its religious 
and moral aspects, yet he protests ag linst the senseless sentimen- 
talism that regards inebriety as a vice, a sin against God, a breach 
of the moral law ; showing how modern scientific inquiry has de- 
monstrated the fact that the phenomena of this disease are mainly 
physical and the outcome of natural law. 

Five chapters are devoted to an exhaustive classification and 
review of ihe forms of inebriety; four to their etiology ; two to their 
pathology ; five to the treatment of the disease ; and five to its 
medico-legal aspects. The first 'indication' of treatment is the 
withdrawal of the alcoholic poison, immediate and absolute ; the 
second ' indication ' is the removal and counteraction of the excit- 
ing cause ; the third ' indication ' is the reparation of the physical 
damage wrought by the inebriety. But the details of treatment 
are too minute to be entered upon here ; for this the work iiself 
must be consulted ; suffice it to say, that the suggestions and me- 
thods of Dr. Kerr appear to be eminently sound and in wholesome 
accordance with the natural laws and conditions of life. 

The chapters on the medico-legal aspects we commended to 
our legislators and lawyers ; first with regard to the necessity of 
legislation touching the cure of inebriates and the protection of 
the community against the acts of inebriates, and, secondly, with 
regard to the criminal responsibility of persons for acts committed 
in the inebriate condition. With respect to the latter problem, 
Dr. Kerr says : 

' Our present jurisprudence, so far as it relates to inebriates, was framed 
at a time when the physical aspect of inebriety and the diseased condition of 
a large proportion of inebriates were not even suspected, except by a very few 
far-seeing philosophic medical observers. In those days, pains, penalties, 
rebuke and contempt were hurled at drunkards of all degrees and varieties 
indiscriminately. They were regarded but as vicious and depraved sinners. 
Now we know better. Kindness, persuasion, and help, are the weapons which 
we employ to-day in our more judicious warfare with the drunken habit. 
Medical science has revealed to us the existence of a class of inebriates who 
are the subjects of disease, as clearly defined as are neuralgia and nervous 
debility. Let legal luminaries thoroughly understand that in many instances 
inebriety has a pathological origin, takes its rise in a departure from bodily 
and mental health, from a morbid state of some parts of the brain or its mem- 
branes, whereby the function of that organ is perverted, or from other un- 
healthful conditions, and that this inebriate tendency is often implanted as a 
ansmitted property in the body and brain during intra-uterine life. Let it 
also be distinctly understood, at the same time, that there are many drunkards 
who do not appear to be the subjects of a morbid affection, whom no one 
would desire to excuse on the ground either of insanity or disease." 



Dr. Kerr suggests a commission of legal and medicinal experts 
to inquire into the modification of inebriate criminal responsibility 
indicated by modern science. But in giving evidence in a crimi- 
nal trial, the medical witness should testify only to the pathologi- 
cal, psychical, healthy, or diseased condition of the accused : the 
application of the evidence is for the Judge and the Jury. 

Dr. Kerr's book is a comprehensive and scholarly discussion of 
a subject very generally misunderstood. We know of no w rk in 
which the exposition of the nature and attributes of inebriety is so 
popularly and yet so scientifically set forth. " The Proceedings " 
of the Society for the Study of Inebriety, of which Dr. Kerr is 
president, form an appropriate commentary and practical confir- 
mation of the principles laid down in his work. iiKpn. 

Life and Mind ; On the Basis of Modern Science. By Robert 

Lcwins, M. D. London : Watts & Co. 
Hylo-Idealism or AutoCentrism : A Unification of Natural 
and Transcendental Philosophies On the Lines of 
Thought laid down by Robert Leivins, M. D. By H. L. C. 
London ; Watts & Co. 
Humanism vs. Theism ; Or Solipsism (Egoism)=Atheism. A 
Series of letters by Robert Lewins, M. D London ; Free- 
thought Publishing Co 

It is dangerous for philosophers to use words in any other 
than the common usage. If they are obliged to employ terms in a 
new and at the same time in a very definite and very concise sense, 
they should select the most appropriate ones and define them as 
their case may demand. If words be selected that have acquired a 
special meaning and to which a kind of an odium has attached, 
it is not advisable to employ these words to express a great and 
high ideal. We cannot say that they who do so are wrong, but 
they certainly are most likely to be misunderstood. Thus the 
words "soul "and "ego" and "self" are terms that in popular 
speech mean about the same thing, and yet they are different. 
Miss Naden, in an expository preface to certain letters of Dr. 
Lewins, says : "Self, in common parlance, signifies a little pri- 
vate enclosure, jealously 'walled around' : in philosophical lan- 
guage, it is coextensive with the cosmos. Every man is his own 
universe. Ascetics taught self to feel its' meanness ; we teach 
self to feel its greatness. The ideal here set forth is fulness of 
life, gained from conscious unity and solidarity with the lives of 
f.thers." (f/uiiiijiiity vs. Theism, p. 10.) 

A slight alteration in the meaning of a word may alter phi- 
losophies and religions, and vice versa, the alteration of religious 
and philosophical thought will effect the meaning of its terms. 
Take for instance, the words God and Devil. There was once a 
sect that worshipped the devil ; understanding by the term devil 
that p:iwer which produces progress. .And should God come to 
mean conservatism and stagnation in State and in Church, our 
clergy ought not to be astonished to see a new sect of serpent-wor- 
shippers arise and enter the lists against God and the very name 
of God. But after all their opposition would be a mere matter of 
definition. The heathenish gods were turned into devils when 
Christianity succeeded paganism ; not because they were real devils, 
but because their divine attributes had been conferred upon the 
God of the Christians. 

By "self" Dr. Lewins understands the subjective world, viz., 
our conception of the world. Die IVelt ah rorstel/ioix, as Schopen- 
hauer says. This world must be distinguished from the objective 
world, the universe of real existence. But this distinctioii is not 
sufficienily set forth in the little pamphlets above-mentioned. The 
subjective world is a representation of the objective world and 
may be such with a degree of perfection that varies. Indeed, the 
subjective world in every man is constantly changing and we can 
very well imagine our conception of the world to be more exact. 

more truthful, and more correct than it is. Nay, this idea is a part 
of our self; and we feel, naturally, the need of progress, of improve- 
ment, of intellectual growth. Dr. Lewins says; " Higher than 
himself no man can think, his own perceptions and conceptions 
constituting his entire universe" {Life and Mind, p. 27). This is 
s lid to overthrow the beliefs of " all that has been said or sung, in 
pre-scientific ages, of God and Gods " ; and I believe that all that 
Dr. Lewins means by it, is correct. But the statement is certainly 
misleading. In our own self we find conceptions which constantly 
compel man to think " higher than himself." Wecall ihese con- 
ceptions "ideals" and their presence in the human soul is the con- 
dition of ethics. We may widely disagree in terminology from Dr. 
Lewins, yet upon the whole we find many points of contact and 
look upon Hylo-idealism as an honest attempt to establish a unitary 
philosophy. Thus, in the pamphlet Hyto-ldealism, (p ir) by H. L. 
C, we read ; " Matter is comprehended in idea and idea is com- 
prehended in matter, both propositions being^ equally valid — i. e., 
each assumable for momentary purposes c f argument, and neither 
having the slightest precedence over the other. Therefore — All 
hail the One Unity of k\\ Existence." 

Evolution. Popular Lectures and Discussions before the Brook- 
lyn Ethical Association. Boston ; James H. West. 
This volume of 408 pages ($2. 00 postpaid), which forms per- 
haps as good a general introduction to the study of evolution as any 
obtainable, contains the following essays ; " Herbert Spencer, His 
Life, Writings, and Philosophy," by Daniel Greenleaf Thompson ; 
" Charles Robert Darwin, His Life, Works, and Influence," by the 
Rev. John W. Chadwick ; " Solar and Planetary Evolution, How 
Suns and Worlds Come into Being," by Garrett P. Serviss ; 
" Evolution of the Earth, The Story of Geology," by Dr. Lewis 
G. Janes; "Evolution of Vegetal Life," by William Potts; 
"Evolution of Animal Life," by Rossiter W. Raymond, Ph. D. ; 
"The Descent of Man, His Origin, Antiquity, Growth," by E. D. 
Cope, Ph. D. ; "Evolution of Mind, Its Nature, and Develop- 
ment," by Dr. Robert G. Eccles ; " Evolution of Society, Families, 
Tribes, States, Classes," by James A. Skilton ; "Evolution of 
Theology, Development of Religious Beliefs," by Z. Sidney Sam- 
son ; "Evolution of Morals, Egoism, Altruism, UtiHtarianism, 
etc.," by Dr. Lewis G James ; " Proofs of Evolution, The Eighth 
Main Scientific Arguments," by Nelson C. Parshall ; "Evolution 
as Related to Religious Thought," by the Rev. John W. Chadwick ; 
"The Philosophy of Evolution, Its Relation to Prevailing Sys- 
temsj' by Starr H. Nichols; "The Effects of Evolution on the 
Coming Civilization," by the Rev Minot J. Savage. Aglanceatihe 
titles and list of authors furnishes sufficient material for a judg- 
ment of the scope and worth of the book's contents. The pub- 
lisher is to be thanked for placing this collection before the public. 

Beitr.ege zur Experimentellen Psychologie. By Hugo Miin- 
sterberg. Heft I. Freiburg, i. B.: J. C. B. Mohr. 
This little book is the first volume of a series of contributions 
to experimental psychology which Prof. Hugo Miinsterberg in- 
tends to publish in the course of the ensuing years. These publi- 
cations are not intended to constitute a collection after the manner 
of a magazine or a journal, but are to contain descriptions of the 
experiments made by Prof Miinsterberg in the psychological lab- 
oratory at the University of Freiburg. It is stated in the preface 
that the writer is " the author of every single line." The present 
volume contains the introduction "Consciousness and the B ain," 
and experiments on "voluntary and involuntary associition of 

Prof. Miinsterberg is a disciple of Wundt. Like his great 
master, he takes his stand on the basis of a parallelism : viz., that 
the psychical and the physical are not two different provinces 



such Ihal we may pass from the one to the other ; but must be con- 
ceived as two parallel lines of phenomena. The psychical is as it 
were the interior of the physical ; it accompanies it ; and the 
bodily processes are nowhere interrupted in their mechanical 

Professor Miinsterberg uses for his experiments the same in- 
struments and upon the whole follows the same method as his 
master. While the French psychologists cultivate a special taste for 
the investigation of morbid states, Professor Wundt and his school 
prefer the less ostentatious method of experimenting upon 
healthy subjects and arriving at exact data by measuring the time 
required for reactions of variant complexity and other psychical 
processes. Professor Miinsterberg takes exception to Professor 
Wundt's standpoint with regard to the theory of consciousness, yet, 
it appears to us, he fails in proving the superiority of his " Um- 
Jctilii>igs~.u-rsiich " — the attempt to interpret facts in a different way. 
A full explanation would lead us too far into detail. 

A very good distinction is made between two meanings of the 
ego ; viz., (i) "The state of consciousness" is the ego-subject, and 
(2) a combination of those ideas which constitute the personality 
of a man is the ego-object. The ego subject may become conscious 
of the ego object not otherwise than of any other object, yet both 
are entirely different. The ego-subject has nothing in common 
whatev r with the ego-object. 

Professor Miinsterberg's Beitragc certainly belong to that class 
of publications which a psychological specialist cannot pass by 
unnoticed and the first volume, it is to be presumed, will remain 
the m )st important part of the series, since whatever the results 
of future experimentation may be, the first chapter lays down the 
principles from which the experimenter starts 

August Comte, Der Begrunder des Positivismus. Sein Leben 

und Lehre. By Hermann Gruber. Freiburg i. B. : Herder'- 

sche Verlags-Buchhandlung. 

The author regards August Comte as the originator and rep- 
resentative of Positivism. " Historically," he says, " there can be 
no doubt that Comte's system is the true Positivism." The car- 
dinal points of Positivism, we are told, are: (i) The positive 
method, viz , the direct observation of facts ; (2) The rejection of 
everything supersensible and everything absolute, as God, Soul, 
Substance, the Essences of Things, etc.; and (3) The replacement 
of the God-idea by the idea of humanity. In the preface Mr. 
Gruber takes delight in alluding to the controversies between Ag- 
nostics and Positivists and quotes for his own and his readers' 
amusement some of the names they have called each other. Himself 
being in opposition to both parties he stands between them as an 
umpire. Upon the whole he sides with Comte ; at least he states 
the priority of Comte's views over Spencer, and declares that the 
latter differs only in unessential subjects. 

The little book treats of Comte's life and philosophy from the 
standpoint of Roman Catholicism ; all the data are given with sci- 
entific exactness and great impartiality. Considered as an histor- 
ical work, it possesses much merit far its completeness and round- 
ness. Comte's genius as well as his extravagances are neither ex- 
aggerated nor minimized, and new light is thrown by recourse to 
the recent publication of new documents upon Comte's relation to 
his wife. Mr. Gruber claims that even Jodl, being at present the 
most trustworthy authority in the History of Philosophy, is mis- 
taken in following Littre's account too closely, Littre appearing as 
a partisan in these quarrels. 

Comte's philosophy being full of vagaries, the author con- 
cludes that the Catholic doctrine alone has fulfilled its claims and 
still fulfills them ; and that the Saints of the Church are the no- 
blest, the greatest, and most ideal men. However, even if we grant 
that the heroes of the Catholic Church may have been great, we 
cannot see that they alone were the greatest and noblest. The 

world is larger than the pale of the Church ; and in our judgment 
the greatest minds since Luther have been wiihout that pale. Comte 
was the first to attempt the structure of a positive philosophy ; 
but if we concede that his attempt was a failure, how can we de- 
clare that for that reason positivism itself is a failure. Comte's 
failure is partly due to his contempt of other philosophers, whose 
works he did cot take the trouble to study : and partly to his fan- 
tastic views of religion which are a residuum of his Catholic sur- 

Die Psychologische Forschung und ihre Aufgabe in der 
Gegenwart. Akademische Antritlsredn. By Dr. HciiiricJi 
Spina. Freiburg i. B. : J. C. B. Mohr. 

Says Professor Spitta ; "Experimental Psychology proposes 
to disintegrate the content of consciousness into its elements, 
to study them in their quantitative and qualitative properties and 
to discover their conditions of coexistence and sequence in an ex- 
act way." Yet he does not believe that Experimental Psychology 
will ever supersede the "older "the "metaphysical" psychology 
(p. 27. ) ; " experimental psychology at the best will claim one part 
only" In perusing this lecture, which wds delivered upon assum- 
ing the assistant professorship of philosophy at Tiibingen, we are 
constrained to doubt whether the young professor has fully grasped 
the principle and purpose of experimental psychology. Experi- 
mental psychology is not a part of the science of the soul, but a 
new method to be applied to all psychical phenomena It cannot 
constitute one province of it merely. 

Problems in American Society. Some Social Studies. By 

Josep/i Henry Crooker. Boston : George H. Ellis. Chicago : 

Charles H. Kerr & Co. 

The six essays of this volume entitled respectively " The 
Student in American Life," " Scientific Charity," " The Root of 
the Temperance Problem," "The Political Conscience, " "Moral and 
Religious Instruction in cur Public Schools," and " The Religious 
Destitution of Villages," are designated by the author as simply 
suggestive contributions towards a clearer understanding of the 
great problems of modern society. They are pleasantly and sen- 
sibly written. Many points of peril and weakness Mr. Crooker 
touches with a skillful hand. The essay on " The Student in 
American Life " may be profitably pondered by our young men. 
Speaking of the religious destitution of villages the reverend 
gentleman says: "The preaching that will help to remove this 
religious destitution from our villages must ignore the old contro- 
versies, take the great facts of the religious life for granted, and 
affirm them with fresh illustrations and overmastering earnest- 

A list of good bibliographical references is prefixed to each 
essiy. ^ 


Professor Felix Adler, of New York, will lecture this evening, 
Thursday, March 2bth, at Emerson Hall, 45 Randolph Street, 
Chicago, on Is it Possible to Teach Religion to Children ^ (Ad- 
mission 50 cents.) 

The Chatauqua University proposes a system of " University 
Extension Lectures " after the English plan. Prospectuses are 
obtainable from Frederick Starr, New Haven, Conn., Registrar 
Chautauqua University. 

Prof. F. Max Miiller began at Glasgow, on Tuesday, February 
nth, his second course of Gifford lectures; he was greeted, says the 
Christian World, with enthusiastic applause. In the present course, 
the Professor treats of Natural Religion in one only of its "three 
great manifestations," — namely, as physical religion. 

The Open Court 


Devoted to the Work of Conciliating Religion "with Science. 

No. 135. (Vol. IV.— 5.) 

CHICAGO, MARCH 27, 1890. 

I Two Dollars pe 
I Single Copies, i 


There is a most dangerous superstition prevailing 
among great masses of people that morality is a good 
thing as an ideal, but a bad thing for the purposes of 
practical life. A business man who wants to succeed, 
it is imagined, can succeed by immoral means only. 
This is a superstition, for it is not true ; . and it is 
a dangerous superstition, for it leads those who 
believe in it and act accordingly, into ruin,. Morality, 
if it be true morality, will lead to life, it will preserve, 
it will produce prosperity, and afford a noble satis- 
faction never mingled with regret. 

The deep-rooted error that immorality alone can 
insure success, seems to have originated through a 
strange combination of misconceptions, favored by 
special conditions and strengthened by exceptional 
instances of successful impostors. Our very language 
betrays us into grievous blunders. We speak of a 
" smart " business man and understand by "smart" 
now the prudent, industrious, judicious merchant, 
and now the sagacious, deceitful trickster. Prudence 
is indispensable to insure success, but trickery is not. 
Trickery will go but a little way and, like the crooked 
boomerang, it will unexpectedly fl)' back upon its 

Closely connected with this vagueness of speech is 
the vagueness of our views of morality. Morality is 
too often tacitly identified with so-called goodnatured- 
ness and with inability. It_is proverbial to speak 
of incompetent men who are free from other gross 
faults as "good people, but bad musicians"; mean- 
ing thereby that they are morally blameless, yet still 
disqualified for the business or profession in which 
they are engaged. Such men are popularly called 
'good,' i. e., morally good; but they are not good. 
They lack that moral nerve that enables us to adapt 
ourselves to our work ; they lack that moral energy 
of self-discipline by which alone we can train and 
educate ourselves to become competent in our pro- 

The negative morality of doing no harm to any- 
body is not as yet morality; it is, at best, sentimental- 
ity. True morality has positive ideals, and foremost 
among our moral ideals must be the aspiration of 
every individual to become a useful member of so- 
ciety, by contributing something to its weal and wel- 

fare. To do some work which gives us pleasure, 
dilettanteism in art or science, in business or agri- 
culture, etc., is not as yet sufficient; our work must be 
a service to society, it must stand in demand, other- 
wise we cannot and ought not expect any return for it. 

A certain indifference with regard to honesty easily 
arises from an over-prosperous condition of society. 
If men earn money without earnest effort ; if they 
live in plenty, and find the resources of all depart- 
ments of industry practically unlimited, they become 
indulgent towards the depredator who takes more than 
his due, and smile at the thief who nimbly skips away 
with his spoil. He who plunders the public treasury 
is not taken to account, because the loss is not so se- 
riously felt. A country in an unusual state of pros- 
perity is not so much in need of honesty as a poor 
nation, and accordingly the moral instinct, the moral 
sense of that country remains comparatively unde- 
veloped. If man did not stand in need of intelligence, 
if he could live without thought, he certainly would 
never have developed brains, and humanity would 
still lead an unrational existence. The same is true of 
morality : it is developed among mankind because and 
to the extent in which man wants it. And we do want 
it indeed ; we are most intensely in need of it, for so- 
society could not exist without it. 

A prosperous nation, I say, is not so much in need 
of morality as a poor nation, where the struggle for 
existence is hard and competition is fierce. Yet 
the people that are not at present in such great need 
of morality will soon come to that need. History 
teaches that the moral, the industrious, the patient 
poor people will in time most successfully compete 
with the rich and the opulent. As soon as opulency 
has reached that degree in which the need of morality 
is no longer felt, the decline of a nation sets in. A 
crisis in her social life is impending. The down- 
trodden will complain of their oppressors ; they will 
cry out for justice ; and if that justice be not freely 
given, the whole nation will suffer for it, and the coun- 
try once so prosperous will lie deserted and in ruins. 
Let the monuments of the great nations that pros- 
pered before us and passed away be a mene tekel for 
us to-day. 

When the nation of Israel was in a social condition 
similar to that which, to a great extent, prevails among 



us now, the prophet Amos arose and lamented the 
moral depravity of his people. He said : 

T^us saith the Lord ; For three transgressions of Israel, and 
for four, will I not turn away their punishment. For they sell the 
righteous for silver, and the needy for a pair of shoes. And per- 
vert the cause of the afflicted. They lay themselves down upon 
pledged garments near every altar ; and drink wine procured by 
fines, in the house of their gods. 

Amos foresaw that such a state of society could not 
remain as it was. He said : 

And I will turn your feasts into mourning and all your songs 
into lamentation ; and I will bring up sackcloth upon all loins and 
baldness upon every head ; and I will make it as the mourning of 
an only son, and the end thereof as a bitter day. 

The need of morality, its indispensableness for the 
welfare of the nation as well as of every individual, 
must at last be felt, and under the impression of this 
truth the prophet continues : 

Behold the days come, sayeth the Lord Gcd, that I will send 
a famine in the land, not a famine of bread, nor a thirst for water, 
but of hearing the words of the Lord. 

Amos's prophecy is as true to-day — and we repeat 
it in this conviction — as it was about two and a half 
millenniums ago. There will come upon us disorder 
and misery, our feasts will be turned into mourning 
unless we are made aware of the war^t of honesty, of 
justice, of morahty. The expression "the words of 
the Lord" in the prophecy does not signify belief in 
a supernatural revelation ; and if it did, we do not quote 
it in that sense. "The words of the Lord," as we in- 
terpret the term in accordance with its context, mean 
the moral commands that will forever remain the sub- 
stance of religious aspirations. There will arise, as 
Christ said, almost two thousand years ago, "a hunger 
and thirst after righteousness." Those who feel that 
hunger will partake of the blessing that in the nature 
of things is intimately connected with it, that will fol- 
low upon it, as the effect follows upon its cause. 

Says Amos : 

For, lo, I will command, and I will sift the house of Israel 
among the nations ; like as corn is sifted in a sieve, yet shall not 
the least grain fall upon the earth. 

The prophecy of Amos is constantly being fulfilled 
in the process of the survival of the fittest. Among 
all the nations those alone will survive and fill the earth 
that are pervaded with the moral spirit. A society 
based upon justice will be stronger than a society in 
which an aristocracy oppresses the other classes of 
the people. A nation in which the rich devise laws 
to protect themselves against free competition and in 
which the poor are prevented from bettering their 
condition, carries a germ of weakness within itself 
and will in the end have to pay for its errors dearly. 
The strong will conquer and the weak will go to the 
wall — that is the natural law of evolution. But bear 

in mind that there is no strength unless it be sup- 
ported by moralitj'. The social law is a power — a 
power that destroys those who do not conform to it. 
Says the prophet : 

Yet destroyed I the Amorite whose height was like the height 
of the cedars, and he was strong as the oaks. Yet I destroyed Lis 
fruit from above and his roots from beneath. 

Rocks are demolished by silently- working atmos- 
pheric influences. And the strongest nations perish 
as soon as they deviate from the path of righteousness 
and the spirit of progressive morality. A constant 
selection takes place in the struggle for existence, and 
humanity is sifted like as corn is sifted in a sieve. 

Let us learn the truth and act accordingly, and we 
shall live. Let us not waver in the path of righteous- 
ness, but do faithfidly some tiseful work in the service 
of humanity, lest we become like the chaff which the 
wind driveth away. 



Galtox, in his English Men of Science, defines na- 
ture as "all that a man brings with him into this world, 
and nurture as every influence from without that affects 
him after birth," and maintains that when nature and 
nurture compete for supremacy on equal terms, nature 
proves the stronger. 

Helvetius, Condorcet, and their school maintain 
that the infant of genius in no way differs from other 
infants, only that certain surprisingly favorable influ- 
ences accompany him through life. They hold that if 
a statue could be endowed with five senses it would 
become a man ; but as Carlyle said, ".I should as soon 
agree with this as to believe an acorn might by favor- 
able influence of soil and climate be nursed into a 
cabbage or a cabbage into an oak." We do not deny 
that the highest natural gifts may be starved by a de- 
fective education. Plato, who believed that innate 
ideas formed the basis of all our conceptions, ad- 
mitted that those ideas had to be roused into action 
by education and by having the mind made acquainted 
with their copies, with which the external world was 
filled, and Locke, that there can be no thought, no 
ideas, until the mind comes in contact with environ- 
ing agencies, and Leibnitz, that there is nothing in the 
intellect which was not first in the sensation, except 
the intellect itself. Still, the mind, as Kant said, fur- 
nishes an element not found in our sensations, and 
this element we maintain is a congenital endowment, 
and as no one b)' thinking can add one cubit to his 
stature, neither can education do more for a man than 
stimulate his faculties and develop latent ability. 

Every one admits that poets are born not made, but 
efficiency in anything also means that you were born 
with a faculty which enables you to do the thing well, 




otherwise your work would lack finish. Education and 
circumstances do much for us, but they cannot over- 
come an intrinsically weak brain. The pains-taking 
capacit}' is necessary to all great achievement, 3'et it 
does not follow that the oftener a thing is done the 
better it will be done. That depends on a man's 
knowledge and the depth and penetration of his in- 

The power of adverse circumstances to rouse the 
mind into action is very great : Mirabeau enters, ob- 
scure, into a dungeon of Vincennes, to atone for the 
offense of carrying off Madame de Monier from her 
aged husband, and he quits his prison a writer, orator, 
and statesman. Great thoughts are not possible where 
one lives much in excitement. To develop the philo- 
sophical and critical mind one must live in retirement. 
Cervantes and Bunyan in prison did their best work, 
Mahomet had his trance in the mount above Mecca, 
and Christ departed from the crowd to the Mount of 
Olives to endure his agony and receive spiritual ex- 
altation. But to contribute to conditions or accident 
the achievements of these men is to reason from in- 
sufficient data. The man of ability is, as Galton shows 
in his work on Heredity, one whose nature when left 
to itself, will, urged by an inherent stimulus, climb 
the path that leads to eminence; one, who if hindered 
and thwarted, will fret and strive until the obstacles 
are overcome. The lazy and indifferent are always 
saying, "I know that thou art a hard master, reaping 
where thou hast not sown." They like to attribute 
their failures to conditions, for to admit anything else 
is to admit the superiority of their neighbors. It is, 
however, by a wise use of our natural gifts and inborn 
tendencies that success is attained. 

Buckle forfeited his reputation as a careful ob- 
server and profound thinker by attributing too much 
to conditions and not enough to a people's inborn ten- 
dencies. He asserts of the Arabs that they remained 
a rude, uncivilized people because of the aridity of 
their soil and their poverty, but the moment they had 
conquered Persia, Spain, and the Punjab, their whole 
character changed and from a race of shepherds be- 
came founders of empires and patrons of learning and 
art. John Fiske, to show the fallacy of this reasoning, 
says, "We have only to note that the Turks when 
they left their barren steppes and became masters of 
one of the finest geographical positions on the globe, 
never directly aided the progress of civilization." 

The anthropologist in his effort to ascertain why 
some nations advance and others remain stationary, 
must look to the innate qualities of the race and not to 
environment. The serious consideration of the his- 
torian, is the inquiry, in what way Rome so early at- 
tained the prominent political position which she held 
in Latium, so different from that which the physical 

character of the locality would have led us to antici- 
pate; the site of Rome was less healthy and less fertile 
than that of most of the old Latin towns — neither the 
vine nor the fig grew well in the immediate environs, 
and there was a want of springs yielding a good stipply 
of water. Latium was anything but attractive, it was 
an unhealthy and unfruitful spot, but this did not pre- 
vent the inhabitants from developing a rapid and sur- 
prising prosperit)'. Rome's one natural advantage, 
the Tiber, and the clear-sighted genius and energy of 
her people were the cause of her eminence. Holland, 
a sediment, a mere alluvium of the river, with the sea 
ever read}' to engulf her, is a notable example of the 
power of a race to overcome conditions, and to make 
the wilderness bloom like the rose. It was the clear 
grit and sturdy qualities of this race that enabled its 
son, William of Orange, to reply to the Duke of Buck- 
ingham, when that nobleman said to him, "Do you 
not see that the destruction oflhe United Provinces is 
inevitable?" "There is one certain means by which 
I can be sure never to see my country's ruin, I'll die 
in the last ditch." 

It is the element in the two ova which similarly 
exposed in the same pool, makes one a fish and the 
other a reptile. To tell how it happens that a micro- 
scopic portion of a seemingly structureless matter 
should embod)' an influence of such a kind is, accord- 
ing to biologists, impossible. All we know is that 
there is born in man an essence, to use a phrase of the 
schoolmen, which makes him the kind of man he is, 
and which education has but a limited power to modify. 
It is with men as it is with plants and animals, the 
higher they are in mind and structure the less they re- 
semble the habitat or medium in which the)' live. The 
average man or woman cannot entertain ideas repug- 
nant to the atmosphere in which they live, while the 
great man is self-centered and moves along, never 
stopping to see if others are following. Socrates 
showed none of the frivolity of the refined and corrupt 
age to which he belonged. He took for his model the 
abstract idea of a true philosopher, and throughout his 
life exhibited an instance of the perfectibility of hu- 
man nature. He was the instructor of his countrymen 
not for love of lucre or reputation, but from a sense of 
duty. Dr. Channing in his " Remarks on the Character 
of Fenelon, " wrote, ' ' When we think of Fenelon in the 
palace of Louis the Fourteenth, it reminds us of a ser- 
aph sent on a divine commission into the abodes of 
the lost; and when we recall that in that atmosphere 
he composed his Telemachus, we doubt whether the 
records of the world furnish stronger evidence of the 
power of a divine virtue to turn temptation into glory 
and strength, and make even crowned and prosperous 
vice a means of triumph and exaltation." 

We must not look to men's conditions to explain 



their conduct or achievements. Of course, as Mill 
says in his essay on Liberty, "Different persons re- 
quire different conditions for their spiritual develop- 
ment, and can no more exist healthful in the same 
moral, than all variety of plaiits can exist in the same 
physical atmosphere." What is help to one man is a 
hindrance to another. 

Is it not then a pity that parents and all who have 
the care and education of the young, should not en- 
deavor to surround them with the conditions necessary 
to their moral and intellectual growth? To force youths 
into employments and professions for which they have 
no talent, because they are regarded as more honor- 
able or lucrative, is a crime against the individual and 
society. Think what the world of science, poetry, and 
the drama would have lost if nature had not dominated 
over nurture in the case of Darwin, Agassiz, and Schil- 
ler. The worthy parents of these gifted sons used 
their utmost endeavors to force all three into the med- 
ical profession ; and — grand as that profession is — 
could a greater calamity have befallen these men or 
the country to which they belonged than their follow- 
ing the advice of their parents instead of the dictates 
of their nature. 

The sight of genius wasting its strength in menial 
toil or to earn its daily bread is a disgrace to a nation. 
To see the winds grinding corn, when they should be 
marshalling the clouds and fanning the fainting flowers 
and sending the rain to the place where it is most 
needed, is pitiable indeed. A nation needs poets and 
literary men quite as much as she needs farmers and 
merchants, sailors and soldiers, as without these there 
cannot be created a national feeling. It is ideas and 
principles which hold men together in great crises. 
Lycurgus imagined that he could hold a nation to- 
gether by means of drills, games, and public tables, 
and by ignoring the home and family ties, but he soon 
found out his mistake and was obliged to introduce 
the works of Homer to keep up the courage, heroism, 
and patriotism of the Spartans. Man is eminently a 
social animal, but he is also a thinking, reasoning, 
spiritual man, and he requires food for his brain and 
the stimulus that comes from reading of great deeds 
to achieve great things himself. 

Hence the poet and sculptor has utility as well as 
beauty, since without them there is nothing to preserve 
the past in a form which can defy the ravages of time. 
Besides, heroic actions like ideas are not fully appre- 
ciated until embodied in forcible language. As Mill 
=ays in \\\z Lo^ic, "hardly any original thoughts on 
menta or social subjects ever make their way among 
mankind, or assume their proper importance in the 
minds even of their inventors, until aptly selected 
words or phrases have, as it were, nailed them down 
and held them fast," How soon the valor of the 

heroes of Thermopylae might have been forgotten had 
not Greece had a Simonides to write their epitaph ; 

" Go tell the Spartans, thou who passest by, 
That here, obedient to her laws, we lie." 

Or sing their praise in verse : 

" In dark Thermopyl^ they lie. 
O death of glory thus to die ! 
Their tomb an altar is, their name 
.\ mighty heritage of fame : 
Their dirge is triumph ; cankering rust, 
And time that turneth all to dust, 
That tomb shall never waste nor hide,— 
The tomb of warriors true and tried. 
The full-voiced praise of Greece around 
Lies buried in that sacred mound : 
Where Sparta's king, Leonidas. 
In death, eternal glory has." 

To endeavor to utilize our natural gifts should be 
our aim, for no one struggles perpetually and victori- 
ously against his nature. One of the first principles 
of success in life is to regulate our career so as to turn 
our physical and mental endowments to good account. 
Do not bury your one talent in a napkin. The man 
of one talent or one idea is a force quite as difficult to 
overcome as the man of ten talents ; the man with one 
idea and a fixed purpose is not swayed by contending 
ideas and influences which are the cause of the action 
of so many men resulting in nothing definite. Lord 
Derby once said of his gifted son, the translator of 
Homer, that he had so many ideas on every subject, 
that like Mahomet's coffin he was always suspended 
in mid-air. Poor Puss mournfully told Reynard that 
she had but one scratch with which to defend herself 
against her enemies ; he boasted of possessing twelve, 
but when the hounds came in sight. Puss, with her 
one talent, her claws, ran up the tree, while Reynard 
with his twelve means of defence was torn to pieces. 

It is not given to every man to know wherein his 
talent lies. Walter Besant, in his eulogy of Richard 
Jefferies, says of his hero : "He suffered from the 
inability of not knowing the bent of his mind, and 
wasted his life in writing weak novels when he might 
have made himself an authority on agricultural mat- 
ters." Matthew Arnold has a like complaint to make 
of Amiel. The passages of his journal devoted to 
criticism show Amiel to have been a profound and 
capable critic, yet he wasted his talents in giving birth 
to dreams. "Trust not yourself, but your defects to 
know, make use of every friend and every foe." 
Macchiavelli said, there are three kinds of minds, 
those who understand of themselves, those who under- 
stand when others teach them, and those who never 
understand. Inventors and discoverers are minds who 
understand of themselves. Watt, Stephenson, Fulton, 
Newton, Columbus, and Copernicus belong to this 

Education and knowledge take all their value from 
the power of the mind of the individual receiving 



them. " Bookful blockheads, ignorantly read, with 
loads of learned lumbers in their head," are found in 
all professions, blocking the car of progress. Well 
may the enlightened business men whose endowments 
of seats of learning have made the learned blockheads 
possible, exclaim with the ancient Jews: "Behold we 
cast our money into the fire and there cometh forth 
this calf." 

The older one grows the more one values natural 
gifts, "for, by no possibility can they, as Goethe 
says, be procured and stuck on." People, like the 
soil, are of every grade ; some, if cultivated, replace 
the money spent on them ; others, if cultivated up to 
a certain point, prove profitable. If a man, like a 
country, engages in a branch of industry for which he 
has great natural advantages over competitors, he 
reaps an industrial return proportionately great. If 
he insists on doing what he is unfitted by nature to 
do, what is this but biting off his nose to spite his 
face. If each would do only that for which he is 
qualified by nature, there would be less unhappiness 
and the world would be better served. 

"The most useful thing to man, is man," said 
Spinoza. Nothing showed the greatness of Sir Hum- 
phry Davy's mind so much, as his statement, that he 
regarded Michael Faraday as the greatest of his dis- 
coveries. "Be thou the first true merit to befriend, 
his praise is lost who stays till all commend." 

The endeavor of parents and a nation should be to 
develop the least endowed of their children, for Nature 
has armed each man, as Emerson says, "with some 
faculty which enables him to do easily some feat im- 
possible to any other, and this makes him necessary 
to society, and society will be bankrupt until each 
does that which he was created to do." Anacreon 
beautifully expresses in verse the same idea : 

" To all that breathe the air o£ heaven 
Some boon of strength has nature given. 
In forming the majestic bull 
She fenced with wreathed horns his skull, 
A hoof of strength she lent the steed, 
And winged the timorous hare with speed : 
She gave the lion fangs of terror, 
And o'er the ocean's crystal mirror 
Taught the unnumbered scaly throng 
To trace the liquid path along ; 
While for the umbrage of the grove 
She plumed the warbling world of love, 
To man she gave, in that proud hour. 
The boon of intellectual power." 

How DOES it happen that in our days, among large 
classes, not only in America but all over the world, 
there has set in a tendency to Spiritualism which man- 
ifests itself in many ways? A crude belief in spirits 
and spiritual manifestations exists ; mediums infest the 
country, who communicate with the departed and im- 

pose upon the credulous in many ways. New creeds 
are preached, -such as Christian Science and so-called 
Metaphysics. Faith-cure is practiced, and among the 
societies for psychical research scattered throughout 
the world there are some that vie with each other in 
the publication of incredible statements about telepathy 
and wonderful tales of second sight. 

This movement may be called a reaction against 
materialism. Mankind, it seems, is growing tired of 
the crude materialistic philosophy that came to them 
m the name of science, and a reaction is taking place 
which, according to the education of the different peo- 
ple concerned, assumes the shape of a more or less crude 
superstition. It is. noticeable that the reaction is 
strongest among the unchurched, among liberals and 
so-called freethinkers ; it is less marked among the 
adherents of the old creeds, the members of churches 
and religious congregations. 

Science is not, as is so often claimed, materialistic ; 
yet to the unscientific, to the laymen, who are not 
thoroughly versed in its elementary truths, science 
naturally enough appears materialistic. The science 
that is transplanted from the laboratory or the study 
into the streets, rapidly ceases to be science. There 
are very few savants who take the trouble to be pop- 
ular. Most of them confine their publications to men of 
their own class, and it is an exception that now and 
then a scientist addresses the whole of civilized man- 
kind, and speaks or writes in a style that can be un- 
derstood by business people and workingmen. The 
duty of popularizing, to a great extent, thus devolves 
upon men who have not grasped the whole truth of 
scientific discoveries, and who look at them from the 
outside only. They inform themselves about the 
rigid formulas, the exact statements of laws by which 
we can predict the slightest details of the movements 
of molecules and atoms. Perhaps they are also able to 
explain these formulas, and point out the mechanisms 
of action discovered through scientific investigation. 
Yet the spirit of science ercapes them, they overlook 
the spiritual that pervades the mechanism. This it is 
that evoked the just sarcasm of Goethe, who says in 
Faust : 

" He who would study organic existence 
First drives out the soul with rigid persistence, 
Then the parts in his hands he may hold and class. 
But the spiritual link is lost, alas ! 
Encheiresin natures this chemistry names. 
Nor knows how herself she banters and blames." 

By materialism I understand that view of the world 
which explains everything from matter, and takes for 
granted that material existence is the only reality. 
Materialism overlooks the importance of the spiritual 
and does not consider it as a reality worth while troub- 
ling about. Spirit is, so materialists cliim, an occa- 
sional function of matter only, the origin of which is 



not yet explained, yet it is certain that its existence is 
verj' fleeting. 

Apres nous le deluge ! was the motto of the French 
materialists of the eighteenth century. "We need not 
trouble," they thought, "about our fate after death, 
for death is a finality ; death ends all. Therefore, let 
us enjoy the present, let us eat and drink, for to-mor- 
row we shall be no more. And if a deluge is to sweep 
over our graves, let the deluge come." We need not 
here repeat historical facts; they are too well known. 
This view of things induced the classes in power to give 
themselves up exclusively to the enjoyment of life, 
and to oppress their fellow-citizens in order to attain 
the means for their wasteful pleasures. The deluge 
came indeed as a natural consequence and swept away 
with merciless justice the guilty, the frivolous, and the 
foolish, and together with the guilty the innocent also. 

We shall not dwell here on the mistakes that prac- 
tical materialism makes when as an ethical theory its 
doctrines are applied to real life. We shall limit our- 
selves to a consideration of its theoretical mistakes 
only. There are plenty honest materialists who do 
not see at all the consequences to which their doctrines 
naturally lead, and it would be unfair to make them per- 
sonally answerable for results, and to charge them with 
having wilfully poisoned the public mind. There are 
very few materialistic philosophers who are to be stigma- 
tized as frivolous or immoral ; on the contrary, most of 
them are indubitably honest men, who have devoted their 
lives to the search for truth and who speak out boldly 
that which they regard as truth. They should not be 
blamed for that ; in that they should be encouraged, 
for it is only by boldly speaking out that which we be- 
lieve to be the truth, that truth can be discovered. Nor 
should other thinkers who are of a contrary opinion 
doubt their honesty or ever make insinuations respect- 
ing their personal character, simply on the ground that 
their doctrines might in their application lead in the 
end to immoral practices and thus undermine public 
welfare. The only remedy against errors is to point 
out errors without personal malice or imputation, and 
it is this that we shall try to do in the case of mate- 

Matter is an abstract, made in the same way as all 
other abstracts. Abstraction is a mental process. We 
abstract (we take away) in our thoughts from a num- 
ber of things certain properties which perhaps in reality 
are inseparably connected with other properties ; but 
in our thoughts we exclude all the other properties. 
We need not explain here the advantage of this method, 
which is undeniable, for abstract thought is the con- 
dition of all exact discriminations, and science would 
be impossible without it. Matter is generally defined 
as "anything which can affect one or more of our five 

It is understood that all other properties, such as 
spirit, are excluded from the term matter. There are 
two properties which in reality are always inseparably 
connected with material things, yet in the term " mat- 
ter" they are not included ; viz., (i) motion, and (2) 
form. If I speak of the matter of an object, I limit my 
attention to the bodily particles of which it consists 
and take no notice of their forms or of the relations that 
obtain among the particles, or of their motions. It 
is their quantity in mass, without reference to any one 
of their many other qualities. I cannot in reality sep- 
arate matter from all form or from all motion. I can 
perhaps impart to a piece of matter more or less mo- 
tion, I can destroy its present form. But it is impos- 
sible to take away every motion and every form. There 
is no such a thing in reality that would be matter alone : 
abstract matter, matter void of all motion and 
without any shape or form. A stone may be in a 
state of relative rest ; for instance, it lies quietly on the 
ground. Yet it moves with the earth through the space 
of the solar system with an average speed of nineteen 
miles per second. There is relative rest, yet there is 
no absolute rest, and there is matter without regular 
form, yet there is no matter without any form what- 

Materialism contains one great truth ; and it is this 
truth that gave materialism its strength and its 
prominence. Materialism rose in opposition to su- 
pernaturalism. Certainly, materialism went too far 
when it tried to explain everything from matter, when 
it identified matter with reality ; yet it stands on solid 
ground when it maintains that every reality is mate- 
rial. There are no pure forms : the forms of reality are 
forms of matter. There are no mere motions : real 
motions are changes of place among material particles. 
Yet matter is only one aspect of reality; matter does not 
cover all and the whole of reality. Besides the mate- 
rial there is the formal, and there is the life displayed 
in the spontaneous motion of all things. Materialism is 
right as opposed to idealism, when idealism claims 
that abstract forms are entities by themselves. Plato 
proposed the theory that ideas, or abstract forms, are 
the only true realities, and that the things from which 
we have abstracted these forms are mere shams, mere 
transient appearances. Materialism is right also as 
opposed to spiritualism, when spiritualism claims 
that spirits exist or can exist apart from material bod- 
ies, that the spiritual has an empire of its own in ab- 
stract independence, and that ghosts can walk about 
in bodiless nudity. 

The reaction which, as we can everywhere observe, 
is taking place against the errors of materialism is 
based upon a great truth, and it is this truth that 
will survive the crudities of the movement. There can 
be no doubt about the fact that this world is spiritual 



in its inmost nature. The spiritual animates every 
particle of matter and appears in its most beautiful 
and grandest development in the human soul. The 
spiritual is no incidental feature of reality, but an 
intrinsic quality of its existence, which will surely 
blaze out in the course of the evolution of worlds. It 
is, as it were, the revelation of the secret concealed in 
the potentialities of the elementary conditions of the 

We do not maintain that a spirit resides in every 
atom, but we maintain that the elements of feeling are 
a property that is inseparably connected with matter. 
Feeling originates when a certain configuration of mol- 
ecules produces a definite interaction among' the par- 
ticles of organized substance. The motions of every par- 
ticle take place according to the laws of mechanics, 
and are accompanied not with feeling but with ele- 
ments of feeling. The feeling that takes place in or- 
ganized substance during its activity is not a product 
of its mechanical motion (i. e., motion is not changed 
into feeling), but it is a phenomenon that accom- 
panies its mechanical motions. Mechanical motions 
and the elements of feeling are not interchange- 
able, but run parallel to each other ; and special com- 
binations of these elements form the phenomena we 
call feelings. Thus together with the evolution of the 
mechanism progresses the development of feeling 
which reaches in man the height of conscious thought. 

The elements of the spiritual we consider accord- 
ingly, as a universal property of matter. Nature is not 
dead, it is alive ; it bears in its bosom the germs of 
life and will develop them in the course of the nat- 
ural process of evolution. Spirit is a special com- 
bination, a certain form, the mechanical parallelism 
of which is found in the activity of living sub- 
stance ; and the growth of the spiritual depends upon 
and accompanies the perfectionment of organism. 

As an instance how greatly people of a spiritualis- 
tic turn of mind appreciate the importance of form, 
we quote a poem by Clementine A. Perkins, published 
in the November number of the Esoteric : 

" There's poetry in life and its motion, 
There's rhythm and rhyme in its tune. 
There's principle to prove to our notion, 
That all is rule upon rule. 

There's harmony in sweet flow'rets chiming. 
There's color, and form, and there's thoGght ; 

There's beautiful speech to the timinji, 
For all is rule upon rule. 

There's symphony grand in the planets. 

With minor and major chords both ; 
There's certainly life in the granites, 

For all is rule upon rule. 

There are pages spelled out for our reading. 
With crooked and straight lines and points ; 

There's purity gained by those heeding. 
For all is rule upon rule. 

There are glorious hues soft in blending. 
There's music and life in the light ; 

Infinite Love o'er 
is rule upon rule 

There's the wonderful work of creation, 

There's spirit and matter in one ; 
There's godliness born of each nation. 

For all is rule upon rule." 

Materialism overlooks the importance of form. 
Materialists by identifying the material with the 
real, imagine that they have exhausted the reality of ob- 
jects when they consider their material existence alone. 
Without the material, of which it consists, a thmg 
would disappear ; the material element in it, it is true, 
makes the thing real, in so far as it gives substantiality 
to it. Yet the form is no mere nothing, as material- 
ists are too apt to say. The form is exactly that which 
makes the thing such as it is. Without its present 
form a watch might be anything ; it might be a lump 
of metal, or any other thing, but it would be no watch. 
The form of things, therefore, is the most important 
part of reality. It is the form only, be it in motion or 
in matter, that excites the interest of the scientist ; 
form arouses the imagination of the artist and the 
industry of the inventor. 

Spiritualists, in a certain sense, ought to be called 
materialists, for they have one error in common with 
materialists. They cannot see that the formal and the 
relational are non-material realities. But while ma- 
terialists consider forms as mere nothings, spiritualists 
are prone to look upon forms as if they were substances, 
and thus materialize spirit. They conceive spirit as a 
substance like matter, only much more subtile, and not 
perceptible by our senses. Thus they lack in the 
properly spiritual conception of form, and become 
blind to the irrefragibility of the mechanical law. 
They dream of a realm of life in which a different and 
a higher kind of mechanics, a hypermechanics, will 
supersede the usual mechanical laws that prevail in 
the realm of material existences. 

Science traces the laws of form everywhere. The 
laws of form are our guides and the instruments of 
research. No scientific problem, whether it concerns 
matter or motion, is fully solved until it is shown to 
be a problem of form. Thus the motions of the ce- 
lestial bodies are reduced to simple arithmetical for- 
mulas, being mere applications of purely formal laws, 
and in this astronomy has reached a certain stage of 
perfection. Similarly, the problem of the chemical 
elements would be solved, if chemistry could demon- 
strate that the different kinds of matter, as oxygen, 
carbon, iron, etc., are special forms of one and the 
same substance only, and that their different prop- 
erties are natural consequences of their difference in 
configuration as well as density. 

There is no absolutely dead matter. But every 
atom is freighted with the potentialities of life. 
The living spontaneity of the world is the condition 

21 72 


of the spiritual ; but it is not as yet the spiritual in its 
development, and in its full importance. The spirit- 
ual grows in and with the forms of life ; it would be 
nothing without the forms of organization. The spir- 
itual, therefore, appears in its glory in organized life, 
and has reached upon earth the highest stage of its 
evolution in the intelligence of the spirit of man. 

p. c. 



It has become quite fashionable to amuse an evening party 
with the remarkable plaything that goes under the name of Hyp- 
notism. The malodorous and lethal qualities of the poison that 
kid-gloved dilettanteism thus daintily toys with may excuse a few 
plain words of explanation and warning. I have always marvelled 
that the spectacle seemed to please. To me, pain and disgust 
were not only logical but unavoidable emotions. I felt as if I had 
assisted at a vivisection-experiment whereat, if scientific curiosity 
had been stilled, shame and regret had been stirred. It is not to 
be denied that to the trained investigator of psychopathy there 
may be an absorbing interest in the phenomenon, but the psychol- 
ogist seeks truth, not relaxation, and the ordinary spectator would 
hardly claim any knowledge of or interest in the study of morbid 
mental function. 

We are told that there are three forms or types of the hyp- 
notic state : the lethargic, the cataleptic, and the somnambulic 
It is also admitted that they are all most intimately related, being 
in fact but different phases of the same essential phrenopathy, and 
at the gesture of the operator are quickly metamorphosed, the one 
into the other. The somnambulic or sleep-walking state has been 
considered harmless and to be played with ad Ubititm, and the 
above relationship with its more vicious allies, lethargy and cata- 
lepsy, is alluded to as illustrative of the community existing 
between all. In those more profound derangements, the whole 
organism is in a state of the deepest stupor, the muscles may be- 
come plastic and wax-like, the mind lying in a deathlike trance, the 
external world as if non-existent, — the entire condition one of 
frightful abnormalism. None but the hardiest operators dare in- 
duce these conditions, and in the more amateurish art of playing 
stage-tricks with captive minds, called somnambulism, the manip- 
ulator must remember that he runs hard by the sheer precipice 
of catalepsy. But in the popular conception hypnotism means 
somnambulism and our consideration of the subject must be limited 
to this aspect. 

Wonder at the uncanny interest excited by the spectacle is 
partially explained by the fact, that what takes place issupposably 
of a mysterious and semi-supernaturalistic nature. There is al- 
ways a strange fascination about psychological evil and morbidity, 
and the awesome shudder of the audience at the creepy spectacle 
shows the witchery. The supposed mystery, however, is a myth, 
and fascination gives prompt way to disgust when it is seert that 
what really takes place is only the most brutalizing of crudities — 
a relapse to the mental and social conditions of animalism and 

Stripped of verbiage the essential nature of the somnambulic 
state consists in the focalization of consciousness upon vacuity, 
and supplying the usual content of the same with exotic idea and 
ah extra domination. A glance at the analogous phenomena ot 
dreams and sleep may serve to make the matter more clear, 
have elsewhere tried to show that our common dreams prove that 
the highest unifying centre of the mind we call consciousness 
may have direct relations with the lowest or primary organs of the 
senses without the ordinary intermediation of the subordinate 

centres. We know it is not the eye that sees or the ear that hears, 
but that the crude messages from the eye and ear must be made 
into sight and sound by the so-called visual and auditory centres. 
In the real world of waking-life it is from these higher visual and 
auditory centres that the highest, all-correlating centre we call 
consciousness, or " I," gains all its data; it is they that make re- 
ality and distinguish dream from waking-life. Sleep is simply 
the sleep of these intermediate centres, their period of rest. They 
require rest because they compose the bulk, if one may so speak, 
of mind-stuff, and do the great part of mental work. Their crea- 
tion and perfection has been the work of humanization and civili- 
zation. The consciousness-centre above, and the peripheral sense- 
organs of the body below, are small parts of the nervous system. 
But during sleep, and especially in the animal and semi-barbarous 
life of earlier times, the organism was unarmed and exposed to in- 
numerable enemies from without and within. These had to be 
guarded against. Cold, heat, malposition of the body, danger 
from a thousand external sources, had to be watched for, and as a 
response to this need there was developed what I have called the 
sentinel-function of consciousness, or the dream-person, to be on 
the alert and protect the sleeping organism. This seems to me the 
only reason for the origin of dream-life, — and we know that no 
such noticeable function could have arisen without its yaisoii d'etre 
in utility. Nature is no spendthrift in such matters. Life was too 
serious a work, and the author of life had too much at stake, to 
create the mechanism and phantasmagoria of dream-land for the 
sleeper's pleasure and had the function not subserved a stringent 
need. The means whereby this sentinel-function is effected conr 
sists in linking the consciousness or supreme correlation-centre by 
commissural fibres directly with the primary sense-organs, to the 
exclusion of the large intermediate centres that in real life re-work 
into sensations the crude stimuli of the peripheral end-organs. 
When in sleep these last, the eye, ear, skin, etc., acting as advance 
pickets, are undisturbed, the vacuous consciousness of dream-life 
has only the flitting fancies of illogic and ghostly memories where- 
with to busy itself. But when the out-posts are in danger their 
messages direct to consciousness are woven into the dream, finally 
dominate it, spur the centre to action, and when it has called ve- 
hemently enough upon the intermediate sub-centres, these spring 
into function — and we are awake I 

Hypnotism is a diseased sleep with a mechanism, not dissiqii- 
lar in essentials from that of normal sleep, except in the addition 
of morbid exaggeration and factitious creation. Instead of normal 
healthful rest an artificial constraint and an external will ruth- 
Ifessly and abnormally shut out the intermediating centres, and 
speaking direct through the primary automatic sense-organs, com- 
mand the mechanical obedience of the enslaved consciousness. 
It is the nature of consciousness to respond to the most powerful 
stimulus, and consent, or passive obedience, of the subject, is a 
prerequisite of successful hypnotic experiment. The tone of com- 
mand and mastery are needed to keep the tyrannized attention true 
toils unnatural work. Judgment, comparison, reality, logic, etc., 
etc., are the functions of the great composite groups of the subor- 
dinate centres. Hence, when these are functionless, we have the 
slavish obedience, the acceptance of the most astounding nonsense, 
the likeness of the hypnotic dream to that of the ordinary dream, 
the inability to distinguish between subjective and objective fact. 
In this forceful wrenching of the attention of consciousness 
from its normal sources of supply, and in the persistent automatic 
obedience to an external will or fi.xed idea, we gain another stand- 
point of observation in which a nearer approach to the truth con- 
sists in viewing the hypnotic sleep as a disease of the attention. 
In our customary avocations when we are engrossed by some ab- 
sorbing work or object of interest, it requires an unusually strong 
stimulus to make itself noticed by the " abstracted " consciousness. 
When excited or absorbed we do not hear ordinary sounds or see 



customary things, may not even know of a considerable injury to 
the skin, — as a cut, an abrasion, etc. In other words, the messages 
are sent to consciousness but are shut out from a hearing and ig- 
nored. This is a symptom of the many varied forms of insanity, 
and is preeminently a symptom of hypnotism. 

The normal and healthful activity of consciousness depends 
upon its impartiality in listening and responding to all orders of 
stimuli, and not in disregarding some altogether. Exclusive de- 
votion to one becomes monomania, fixed idea, insanity. Hypno- 
tism goes a step further in idiotization and shuts out all except 
those that come by secret routes from the external tyrant. A sound 
consciousness depends upon the data furnished by its subordinate 
centres, which it re-works into general concepts and resolves into 
volitions The safety of the organism depends upon such normal 
action. In disconnecting or disallowing the subordinate centres 
the hypnotizer deprives the mind of any data but such as he 
chooses to supply direct, the organism is at the mercy of his whim, 
whilst his suggestions and implanted ideas fill the vacant and en- 
slaved consciousness with abnormal and illogical data, and direct 
its energies with mechanical rigidity. 

Evolutionally, hypnotism is an atavistic return to primitive 
and savage mental processes. All barbarous and semi-civilized 
peoples exemplify an hypnotic state of mind. Every African 
tribesman offers an example, mentally, of the same mechanical 
dependence of the subject or slave upon the tyrant chief, male 
lord, or master. Civilization, psychologically, consists in creating, 
developing, and educating the great body of the cerebral centres 
placed between the peripheral end-organs and consciousness, and 
allowing the latter to react to these natural sources and data, in- 
stead of to the outside tyrant. The more a mind approaches the 
savage type the more it seeks an outside master, the easier it falls 
under the domination of an external will. And the lower in the 
evolutionary scale, the greater the automatism and mechanicalism 
of mind that offers itself as the readiest tool of the hypnotizer. 
Hystericall, weak, disordered, or undeveloped brains are the most 
pliant. Preexistent intellectual disintegration and atavism is ne- 
cessary as an initial preparation before plunging yet deeper into 
the artificial hypnotic barbarism. Parenthetically it may not be 
superfluous to hint that hypnotism offers a clue if not a rational 
explanation of the manifold and monotonous mob of chronicled 
delusions, tyrannies, manias, and inexplicable aberrations that 
largely make up the subject-matter of history. Is it far from the 
mark to say that Napoleon was a kind of national hypnotizer ? 

Thus and again we are brought face to face with the patent 
fact that the hypnotic state, both in preparation and execution, is 
a diseased state. It is no mere innocuous bit of psychological 
legerdemain, but downright morbidity. It has been asserted that 
there is a disease of the human prostate consisting in the deposit 
of calcareous formations, — a far-away cell-memory of the egg-shell 
forming age. The latest theory of the etiology of Bright's Disease 
is that it is a reversionary tendency toward that preanthropic 
type of the hepatic function in which the liver performed 
the additional office of "excreting uric acid. Whether proved or 
not, such analogies offer us illustrations of the constant struggle 
of the upward-building forces against the vicious inclmation of the 
organism to revert to primitive modes of function. But speaking 
medically, such reversions are always pathological, demanding 
cure, not culture. Charcot's experiments are confessedly upon 
■ neurotic and diseased subjects, and the implication is everywhere 
manifest that the state itself is a yet greater morbid abnormalism 
always trenching close upon danger. Even though a Frenchman, 
he has had the sane conservatism to operate only upon those al- 
ready more than half-hypnotized by preexisting mental disease, 
wisely shrinking from generating the neurosis in sound or balanced 

And if all this be true, what a lesson it constitutes for reck 

less operators who have with foolhardiness produced mental 
disease, and played jugglei^s tricks with the most sacred mysteries 
of mind and the hardest-won conquests of civilization's battle ! 
Theirs is a responsibility and a possible accountability that I 
shudder to contemplate. Disguise it as one may. the hour's 
amusement has been at the expense of nothing less than the Dis- 
integration of a Soul, and the Dissolution of Personality. The 
satisfied smile of the " Master " or of his " subject, " that nobody 
is the worse for the experiment, is gruesome. It must not be for- 
gotten that we are but at the beginning. A suggestion of the in- 
gravescent nature of the malady is gained from Charcot's admis- 
sion that ' ' sleep comes the quicker the oftener the subject has been 
put to sleep." I see no escape from the conclusion that, medi- 
cally, hypnotism is the production, not the cure of disease, and 
that if it is wrong, dangerous, or criticizable, to put the sound 
mind into this morbid state, it is yet more emphatically wrong to 
plunge the already unsound into a still deeper slough of mental 
and moral wreckage. 

There are two possible answers to this. First, that hypnotism 
may be made a therapeutic measure, and to this a sufficient reply 
is that no one seriously believes it, or has proved it. In the second 
place it may be said that the production and study of these phe- 
nomena have been carried on with the purpose of learning if the 
power or condition may not become methods of cure and help in 
medicine. No genuine lover of medicine would willingly let slip a 
possible therapeutic measure of promising value, but the cure of 
slight disease by the preparatory production of severe disease is a 
new plan of treatment, not to be understood, except perhaps by 
the mystical knights of similin simililnis, or some like-minded ex- 
ponent of metaphysical medicine. Moreover, it can scarcely slip 
attention that the laboratory argument is the first frank admission 
of the righteousness of human vivisection. Not a few intimations 
point plainly to such a coming demand, and, may it not be said, 
that the frankest truth, the vraie virile, about this whole hypnotic 
pother is that it is human vivisection, pure and simple : — and of a 
peculiarly repellant type — mental vivisection — like unto the con- 
secutive slicing, layer by layer, of the brain-tissue of some luckless 
animal — of all that morality and civilization and human endeavor 
have to show for a million years of effort. 

There can be no question that the physician not only goes 
beyond, but contradicts his office, in the willful production of a 
pathological condition. Whether, for purposes of investigation 
the student of morbid psychology has such a right, must be left to 
public opinion and legislatures for answering. After all possible al- 
lowances and reservations have been made, it must be admitted 
that this frightful power should be lodged only in trained hands, 
and not for the satisfaction of dilettanteism, display, or ennui, but 
solely for the benefit of humanity and suffering minds. 

Because patient, sick is every "subject." This truth must 
not be blinked. That a mind should willingly permit its own re- 
duction to a pitiful automatonism and atavistic relapse, is itself 
disease, requiring, not encouragement, but moral tonics and psy- 
chological therapy. Is thy servant a dog that he should do this 
thing' I have no desire to wound any one who has proved "a 
good subject," but plain speech is best ; and, too, one must speak 
for the mass and average. There may perhaps be exceptional 
cases where increased abnormalism of mind is not detected, and 
where, apparently, no harm is done. It cannot be so in the long 
and with the many. What contradicts the normal course of men- 
tal development, and the healthful ideal of mental unity and in- 
tegrity, what is manifestly a return to the virtues of the dog and 
the slave, what is retrogression, not progression, devolution, not 
evolution, — all this is incontestably wrong, personally or socially. 
To consent to it, whether publicly or privately, is psychological 
sin and vice. 

And this public or social aspect of the question cannot be 

2 174 


shirked. There is no longer any doubt as to the fact — the ability 
of a strong will thus to enslave another's weaker mind and reduce 
it to a canine automatonism. It has, indeed, been repeatedly 
proved that this astounding power may be exercised without, 
and even against, the consent of the subject. Behold the appalling 
possibility ! It is contended by none that the possession of this 
power, in the remotest degree implies also concurrent scientific 
love or moral purpose. The ability to hypnotize does not argue 
desire to use the power unselfishly. -■? piiori, it would argue the 
reverse. The essence of all sin is the selfish use of another's per- 
sonality. It did not need slavery to prove that domination of 
another is not motived by love or respect for that other. There is 
little doubt that many a secret crime and wrong has been pre- 
pared and executed by means of this Mephistophelean weapon. 
Some time since, the French papers were filled with the nausea- 
ting details of the crimes of a tramp hypnotizer : chief among them 
was the abduction and ruin of a beautiful girl who by means of 
this infamous charm was made to follow the villain about the 
country like a dog. Whenever the "post-hypnotic suggestion" 
began to fade out and the girl showed evidences of returning san- 
ity, she was at once thrown into the somnambulic sleep and the 
suggestion or command again burned into her brain, that she was 
to remain his pliant tool. When brought up for trial the ifnpu- 
dent scoundrel boasted of his power, and offered to hypnotize the 
judge in open court. His Honor, sincerely frightened, promptly 
turned his back, and refused to become a "subject." There is 
hardly a day that there does not come to light some inexplicable 
infatuation, some illogical and motiveless crime, some unaccount- 
able slavery to a fixed idea, or to another's will, in otherwise ap- 
parently healthy minds, and all leading to bewildering wrong, 
misery, or ruin. Is it not possible that hypnotism may lie at the 
root of some of it ? It is reported that a few months ago a thief 
traveled all over England hypnotizing every cashier with whom he 
had any dealings. He could make any man believe a shilling was 
a sovereign and promptly give him change for the hypnotic 
image. In a Western city last year a jail-bird walked into a bank 
and compelled the president, surrounded by his clerks, tellers, and 
book-keepers, to hand him $20,000. The " post-hypnotic sugges- 
tion " lasted until the scamp had escaped. These are adduced as 
illustrations of the fact that this power exists, and that its pos- 
sessor is not necessarily a fine type of the genus homo. It is com- 
monly said that consent and even much of what might be called 
subconscious collusion is necessary on the part of the subject. 
But even granting this as a general statement, it can hardly be 
afifirmed that it is always so. Besides this, all agree that the willing 
subject can be made to do motiveless and unconscious things by 
post-hypnotic suggestion, and this is assuredly a dangerous power. 
For these and like reasons the public exhibition of these experi- 
ments has by several European legislatures been branded as crim- 
inal, and English medical men are now advocating the same 
measure. Have we not already enough and more, of dangerous 
pruriency and vicious crankery without adding a semi-scientific 
branch ? Is it not nauseating to find in the full blaze of our latest 
civilization a spawning of every variety of debauching mental ab- 
normalism that furious fancy can imagine or shamelessness ex- 
emplify ? Every honest physician is daily brought into competi- 
tion with a thousand forms of quackery, but whether secret and 
disguised, or proud and successful, always foul, and always feed- 
ing upon the crassest ignorance and neurotic abnormalism. Every- 
where the niaiseries of spiritism, clairvoyance. Christian science, 
crankery, occultism, aristocratic voodoism, and all the rest, peer- 
ing at you out of the eyes of befogged mediasvalism, impuberal 
sentimentalism, or specious imbecility. It is to be hoped that 
American clear-headedness and high-heartedness will return with 

freezing politeness this hypnotic perversion, this latest French 
theatrical disease, to the native land of life-elixirs, hydrophobia, 
and extravagant paradox. , 

Summarizing these objections to the scenic or amusement 
type of hypnotism, the following criticisms seem to me to obtain : — 

1. Physiologically, the hypnotic state of the somnambulic type 
is the pathological analogue of normal sleep. It is a diseased sleep, 
effected by an inhibition or disregard of the mind's subordinate 
centres, a morbid perversion of attention, and an enslavement of 
the highest correlating centre of consciousness by an unnatural 
and external domination, either of will or of idea, suggested or 

2. Psychologically it is a disease of the attention, a ruthless 
interruption of the normal activities of the mind, and a forced di- 
vorce of the consciousness from its natural sources of supply. The 
distinctive qualitity of civilized mentality, — true psychogenesis, — 
the systematization and perfection of the crude data of the senses, is 
reversed and extinguished, and no psychic contributions of the 
centres concerned in this work are admitted to consciousness, ex- 
cept they come with the secret passport of the external tyrant. 

3. Evolutionally, it is an atavis ic reversion to a primitive 
type ; the dissolution and extinction of the intellectual results of 
civilization's long battle for personal independence and mental 
autonomy. There is no mystery or supernaturalism in it. It is 
not a transcending of the natural but a descending to the bestial, 
— a return to the psychic, or preferably unpsychic, relations and 
activities of the slave and the savage. 

4. Medically, as in all reversions or abnormal survivals, hyp- 
notism is simply disease. Its two principal forms are the very 
culmination of dangerously morbid nervous derangement, its 
lighter phase presents all the marks of neurotic and psychic disturb- 
ance. Since the duty of the physician is to cure, not cause, dis- 
ease, it follows that the creation of this neurosis for purposes of 
amusement, or even for scientific experiment, runs squarely counter 
to therapeutic ideals. Whatever experimentation goes beyond the 
aim of therapeutics is, in a word, human vivisection, about which 
question, abstractly considered, humanity may have a word to say. 
That allied and pre-existing diseases may be cured by hypnotic 
methods, is a wholly unproved allegation, and an illogical sub- 

5. Individually, and so far as the operator is concerned, hyp- 
notization ■ is a wanton playing upon the already diseased person- 
ality of another by one who has no right to the power. No man 
in this age and country has any valid authority for reducing 
another's mind to a condition of canine automatomism and sub- 
serviency. Looked at from the subject's side, it is of the very 
essence of vice to willingly undergo mental degradation and ani- 
malization. It is the most pitiful of answers to say one feels no 
injury. Neither does one feel injury in any form of anaesthetiza- 
tion, or in loss of sanity. 

6. Socially, it must be candidly admitted that hypnotism is a 
weapon of all too dangerous powers and possibilities to be put in- 
dfscriminately into ignorant hands. Possession of hypnotic power 
does not logically imply possession of moral purpose, but would 
seemingly imply the reverse. It is certain that the power has 
often been made the instrument of heinous criminality, and it is 
extremely probable that this has been far more frequent than is 
supposed or can be known. The very secrecy and subtlety of its 
possible and suggested use makes one shudder with horror. Lastly, 
the allurement it exercises upon the weak, neurotic, and mentally 
diseased, encouraging such to infinite mimicries and self-idiotiza- 
tions, forms an aSded proof that, as in foreign countries, we must 
also prohibit all public exhibitions of its phenomena. 





M. BiNET, in his remarks on Mr. Romanes's recent article on 
this subject, says : " I do not know, and no one, in my judgment, 
can know, whether the Micro- Organisms are conscious or not of 
the highly complex physiological acts, pertaining to their life of 
relation, that they execute under certain conditions." If they are 
not conscious of those acts in any sense, and if the rule laid down 
by Mr. Romanes is correct, then we must say that their action is 
simply reilex. He affirms that "it is the element of conscious- 
ness, and the element of consciousness alone, which can be taken 
to differentiate the phenomena of instinct from those of purely 
non-mental adjustment." The criterion of consciousness is "the 
power of learning by individual experience," which "is not rig- 
idly exclusive either, on the one hand, of a possible mental char- 
acter, in apparently non-mental adjustments, or, conversely, of a 
possibly non-mental character in apparently mental adjustments." 
In explanation of this statement, Mr. Romanes adds, " it is clear 
that long before mind has advanced sufficiently far in the scale of 
organization to become amenable to the test in question, it has prob- 
ably begun to dawn as nascent subjectivity. In other words, 
because a lowly organized animal does not learn by its own indi- 
vidual experience, we may not therefore conclude that in perform- 
ing its natural or ancestral adaptations to appropriate stimuli, 
consciousness, or the mind element, is wholly absent ; we can 
only say that this element, if present, reveals no evidence of the 
fact. But, on the other hand, if a lowly organized animal does 
learn by its own individual experience, we are in possession of the 
best available evidence of conscious memory leading to intentional 
adaptation. Therefore, our criterion applies to the upper limit 
of non-mental action, not to the lower limit of mental." Accord- 
ing to this reasoning, in the absence of the power of learning by 
experience, there can be no consciousness, and yet long before 
consciousness becomes amenable to this test, it may have begun as 
"nascent subjectivity," although it reveals no evidence of its 

But is it true that the "subjectivity" which thus exists be- 
fore becoming revealed as consciousness, does not give evidence of 
its presence ? Some light may perhaps be thrown on this point 
by a consideration of the nature of instinct. Mr. Romanes 
speaks of an action being instinctive when there is consciousness 
of its performance. What does this refer to ? In every such ac- 
tion the agent stands in a double relation ; that is, to the enJ de- 
sired and to the ineiins used to attain it. The latter answers to the 
act performed, and it is what Mr. Romanes intends, judging from 
his definition of instinct, as "the power to react in the same 
manner under the same conditions for all the animals of the same 
species." It is evident, however, that the above explanation of 
an instinctive action has reference only to the means employed, 
and properly or improperly leaves entirely out of view the end to 
be attained. To illustrate this point by example. Apart from the 
movements of escape from danger, it may be broadly asserted that 
all the actions of a vast proportion of the lower animajs are di- 
rected tov/ards one of two ends, the preservation of the life of the 
individual or its continuance in other individuals by propagation. 
The former class of actions are usually referred (o the instinct of 
self-preservation, which leads to (a) the performance of particular 
actions for, (b) the purpose of obtaining food for, the support of 
life. Now, according to Mr. Romanes's definition, no such action 
is instinctive unless it is accompanied by consciousness of (a); that 
is, of the means used to attain the desired result. 

This conclusion is weakened, however, by further considera- 
tion of the definition of instinct given above. If instinct is the 
power to react in the same manner, under the same conditions, for 
all the animals of the same species, the power of learning by in- 

dividual experience, which constitutes the criterion of conscious- 
ness, would seem to be excluded. If so, M. Binet is justified in 
asserting that a contradiction is involved in admitting conscious- 
ness as an index of instinct. As a fact, the similarity of condi- 
tions renders the inodns operandi unchangeable, and it is only when 
these conditions vary that there is the possibility of learning by 
individual experience, which is required by consciousness. If this 
is admitted where there is a similarity of conditions, it must have 
relation to the object of the action and not to the performance 

Such being the case, the question arises whether all actions 
which are performed with a purpose external to the agent, are not 
instinctive,' notwithstanding the absence of consciousness in rela- 
tion to the action employed. Surely, there may be a simple 
recognition of " end " without intentional adaptation of "means." 
In this case there would be no consciousness in Mr. Romanes's 
sense of this term. The presence of his criterion of conscious- 
ness would seem to be evidence, however, that an action is not 
purely instinctive. Mr. Romanes in his article in the Enevchpedia 
Brilannica, defines instinct as "the generic term comprising all 
those faculties of mind which lead to the conscious performance 
of actions, that are adaptive in character, but pursued without 
necessary knowledge of the relation between the means employed 
and the ends attained." When there is a slight blending of rea- 
son with instinct, as is often the case, the former "only acts upon 
a definite and often laboriously acquired knowledge of the relation 
between means and ends." It is the knowledge of this relation 
which renders possible the learning by experience, the power of 
doing which is said to be the criterion of consciousness. The ex- 
ercise of this power is necessarily attended with deliberation, and 
it has to do, therefore, with reason Yather than with instinct. But 
instinctive action is itself often founded in reason, as appears 
from Mr. Darwin's explanation of the origin of instincts. The 
first mode of origin is by what is called the " lapsing of intelli- 
gence ; " that is, " by the effects of habit in successive generations, 
mental activities which were originally intelligent become, as 
it were, stereotyped into permanent instinct." Here the knowl- 
edge of the relation between means and ends, which constitutes the 
intelligence, has ceased to be recognized, but it nevertheless con- 
tinues to exist in the consciousness. All such actions, therefore, 
are not purely instinctive, although they have become so habitual 
as to appear to be governed solely by instinct. 

It is consistent with Mr. Romanes's definition of instinct that, 
although there is no consciousness of the relation between the 
means employed and the end attained, there may be a recognition 
of both the means and the end, and not merely of the former as 
supposed above. The conscious performance of particular actions 
adapted to certain ends, would seem to require a consciousness of 
the latter. If both are absent, there would probably be no mental 
action, but may there not be a phase of instinct in which the rec- 
ognition of the means is excluded without that of the end being 
affected ? Certain instincts are said to be due to " natural selec- 
tion, a survival of the fittest, continuously preserving actions 
which, although never intelligent, yet happen to have been of ben- 
efit to the animals which at first chanced to perform them." Mr. 
Romanes cites in illustration of this principle the instinct of incu- 
bation, which he traces ultimately to the action of some cold- 
blooded animals in carrying about their eggs for the purpose of 
protecting them. It must be admitted that it is not probable any 
animal can ever have kept its eggs warm with the intelligent pur- 
pose of hatching out their contents ; yet it may have at first sat on 
its nest with the conscious purpose of protecting them. It does 
not follow that the object for which an action is performed is un- 
recognized, because the action is the result of chance ; even where 
the animal acting is too low in the scale to display intelligence, or 



too young to learn by personal experience. The chance in any 
particular case has relation to a certain mode of action, that has 
been adopted in lieu of another mode of action which would have 
been pursued if the conditions had remained the same. The ob- 
ject in view is the same whatever the conditions. 

But can instincts really be originated by natural selection ? 
Mr. Darwin says, " it will be universally admitted that instincts 
are as important as corporeal structure for the welfare of each 
species under its present conditions of life." He adds, "under 
changed conditions of life it is at least possible that slight modifi- 
cations of instincts might be profitable to a species, and if it can 
be shown that instinct is variable ever so little, then I can see no 
difiSculty in natural section preserving and continually accumulat- 
ing variations of instinct to any extent that was justifiable. It is 
thus, I believe, that all the most complex and useful instincts were 
originated." Reference is here made to special instincts, such as 
Mr. Romanes describes as " the conscious performance of actions 
that are adaptive in character," and which he affirms are " emi- 
nently variable, and therefore admit of being modified as modify- 
ing circumstances may require." It seems to me, however, that a 
sufficient distinction is not made between the instinct and the act 
in which it expresses itself. Mr. Romanes refers to several cases 
of misdirected instinctive action, where hens have been led to rear 
chickens not their own, as modifications of instinct. In one case 
a hen brought up a family of young ferrets. She quickly learned 
to understand their cries, and when milk was brought for them 
she would call them if they were not near the nest. But in such 
cases as this, there is no real variation of instinct ; it is merely a 
modification of action consequent on change of circumstances. 
The maternal instinct remains unchanged, although the acts per- 
formed in pursuance of it are altered. 

This distinction would seem to throw light on the nature of 
instinct itself. It is a subjective tendency which seeks objective 
satisfaction, or realization in act, for the purpose of attaining a 
particular result. At any particular time, it represents the expe- 
rience of past generations become hereditary. In each successive 
generation there may be some modification in its external expres- 
sion, as the result of individual experience, but the instinct always 
remains as the same hereditary tendency. It may be said that in 
course of many generations the multiplied modifications will have 
resulted in the formation of a fresh instinct, but all animal in- 
stincts may be ultimately reduced to one or other of the three fun- 
damental instincts of self-preservation, reproduction, and sym- 
pathy. The so-called originated instincts are merely modifica- 
tions of the modes of giving them objective expression. It is to 
these modifications reference is really made, when it is said that 
natural selection continually preserves beneficial actions, and not 
to the instinct itself. This remains the same hereditary subjective 
tendency, which always operates in the same direction, although 
the change of conditions which necessitates a modification of the 
mode of action may cause a variation in the objective result. 

The question still remains whether or not the purpose for 
which instinctive actions are performed is recognized where there 
is no consciousness of the actions themselves. That animals are 
conscious of the ultimate aim of their actions — for example, the 
satisfaction of the instinct of self-preservation, will hardly be as- 
serted. To suppose that they are so conscious, would be to give 
them a subjective faculty which belongs to man alone. They may 
be cognizant, however, of the objective aim, that is of the obtain- 
ing of food, while unconscious of the relation between the end and 
the means of obtaining it. This may be true as well of the micro- 
organisms as of higher animals. The food has an objective re- 
ality which they may become cognizant of visually or tactilely. No 
one can have watched those organisms under the microscope 
without being struck with the appearance of intention in their 

movements. That the action in relation to the object is not cofl- 
sciously performed, is true in the ordinary sense attached to those 
words, but none the less it cannot properly be called reflex, if this 
requires an entire absence of consciousness, as a purely non-men- 
tal adjustment. Dr. Dessoir describes consciousness as the defect 
of habit, "the subjective expression of the work of acquisition 
which the min^d is carrying on." If this explanation is correct, 
the absence of consciousness may be the perfection of habit. The 
subjective activity of the micro-organisms is, however, on a lower 
level. It cannot be called instinct in the sense of " lapsed intelli- 
gence, because intelligence was always wanting. But such instinct 
is secondary rather than primitive, and it is this primitive instinct, 
which the unconscious intelligence resulting from the continuous 
repetition intelligent action simulates under the name of habit, 
that the micro-organisms possess. It would seem to answer to the 
"direct and simple reflex-motion of conscious will," which is gov- 
erned by an impulse " so overwhelmingly strong that it gives no 
time or opportunity for deliberation."* The will has here an ex- 
ternal expression, unlike simple reflex-motions, and the impulse 
which governs it is the tendency to satisfy one of the fundamental 
instincts of the being, the consciousness having relation to the ob- 
ject required for this purpose. While it is true, therefore, that 
micro-organisms are not "conscious," according to Mr. Romanes's 
criterion of mind, they must be declared to be instinctive, as pos- 
sessing the feieling of which consciousness is the concentration, 
and thus to be conscious in a limited, although strictly accurate, 


■ ■ Audi alteram partem . ' ' 
To the Editor of The Open Court : — 

In an editorial minute on a paper in The Open Court of Feb- 
ruary 13th, entitled "The Autoplastic Synthesis of the Universe," 
Hylo-Idealism, or Autoplasticism, is liberally judged as not "ne- 
cessarily opposed " to the views of TIte Open Court. Now, I most 
willingly allow the extremely enlightened, comprehensive, and 
truly scientific spirit and methods of this serial, but yet must sub- 
mit that so long as "its pronounced object is to harmonize Re- 
ligion with Science," like the " London Victoria Institute," a wide, 
but not necessarily other than provisional, gulf yawns between 
the two Cosmologies. My object — an object as yet very imper- 
fectly grasped by scientific experts and professorsf — is entirely 
to eliminate, at our present standpoint of Thought, all Non- Ego- 
ism and to include all human knowledge or nescience strictly 
within the limits of each sentient Ego. So that the venerated idea 
of God is — as ultra -ires — in the domain of Teratology and Thauma- 
turgy — an anachronism doubtless not without its use in former ages 
as a workable hypothesis, but now quite superseded by Egoistic 
Monism, which makes of the Ego, centre radius and periphery of 
all sentient existence. In this respect Religion, like all other Ani- 
mism, is quite on a level with the Ptolemaic system of Astronomy, 
Circular orbits of the spheres, or the corpuscular theory of Light. 
If all "things "are really only "thinks, "i. e., visions or ideas, 
and we can never reach true ^Etiology and Absolutism, it seems 
only a corollary, or rather parallelism to assert that these thoughts 
or visions are not traceable further than our own organ of thought. 
" Quod super, vel extra, nos nihil ad nos" and " De non existetiLihus et 
non apparentibus cadeiis est i-atio," surely indisputable axioms 
in the minds of all possessed of valid abstract thought. And that 
position is equivalent to the syntax I propound under the term of 
Hylo-Idealism and many aliases. Physical Science and Mysticism 

*Ed. The Open Court, No. 12S, p. 20S4. 

+ To exemplify the confusion still pervading the minds of the most dis- 
tinguished savants— a confusion quite removed by the acceptance ' of Auto- 
centricism— it may be noted that Professor Stokes. P. R. Soc. is a convinced 
Christian theist. 



must both combine to reach achromatic reality. Either alone is 
insufficient for the Herculean labor. The former ends where sen- 
tience begins, and the latter has no solid factual anchorage unless 
based on the concrete foundation of exact Rt'al-SluJifn. The late 
Miss Constance Naden, a convinced convert to Solipsism, always 
assured me that her schoolmaster to that end was, during her sci- 
entific curriculum at Mason Science College, her earnest studies 
of James Hinton, Angelus Silesius, Vaughan's ' ' Hours with the Mys- 
tics, " Madame Guyon, not to mention the mystic obscurantism 
of the precursors of the Reformation, and indeed of Vedantism or 
Biblicism itself. No doubt I myself owe, in some measure, my 
attraction for this course of thought to the influence of the Mora- 
vian Brethren, at whose institution in Neuwied on the Rhine I 
spent two years— from my fourteenth to sixteenth years for edu- 
cational and linguistic purposes, previous to my matriculation at 
the University of Heidelberg. 

It is not my intention, on this occasion, to dwell at large on 
all the arguments in favor of Hylo-Idealism I have treated of else- 
where, and in documents now in Dr. Carus's possession. I shall 
here only illustrate my contention by a most significant morpho- 
logical fact drawn from the phenomenon of optical vision — a fact 
which seems unmistakably to point out to sceptical critics and 
gainsayers the assurance that all cognizance of the visible universe 
is esoteric, not exoteric, and that we really cognize not the outer 
object, but only its semblance, as "reflected" or "mirrored" in 
the optical organism itself. The short sentence I quote from the 
article "Eye," in Chambers's new edition of The Encyclopidia or 
Dictionary of Universal A'noui/cdgc, Vol. IV, Page 508,. may be sup- 
plemented by perusal of other sentences of the text by all seriously 
interested- in the solution of this immemorial problem, which, as 
long as abstract synthetic principles have been possible for human 
nature, has divided, and de facto maddened mankind in all ages 
and climes. The true method for this solution is now, in this last 
decade of the nineteenth century, for the first time in history, pa- 
tent even to the least instructed minds, willing to throw off tradi- 
tional and inherited prejudices. It is a trite truism of microscop- 
ical research that the essential element in vision is the retinal 
Jacob's membrane, a layer of rods and cones present by millions in 
the cup-shaped expansion of the optic nerve. Now these vis- 
ional factors do not look outwards at the actual object or at the 
cosmical Light, but inwards, so that we only see that light or that 
object, as subjectived at the bottom of our own eye — a certainty, 
since the percipient factors are thus directed from, and not to- 
wards, the Light. If eye and brain thus make Light, surely we 
make all light senders visible, and object can only be perceived 
after complete immersion in the Subject-Self. " Gefiihl ist nlles 
and Ding is but Sc/iall und Ranch," and indeed, strictly speaking, 
not even so much. Thus is the truth of Kant's negation of Ding 
an .«V/i vindicated on other than involved metaphysical data. In 
the phenomenal sphere to which man is restricted, the noumenal 
has no part or lot, and thus, as Protagoras adumbrated, man is to 
himself the measure, standard, and it may be added, origin of all 
existing things— the real pseudo-Deus-homo (Herr or Vir) of Chris- 
tianity and Hegelianism. R. Lewins, M. D. 

[We call Dr. Lewins's attention to the fact that we under- 
stand by Religion not a special kind of " animism " but a concep- 
tion of the world which will serve as a basis for ethics. By ego we 
do not understand the whole soul of man but the continuity of 
his states of consciousness. That the brain produces objects, in 
so far as they are our perceptions, i. e. , in so far as they are 
parts of the Welt ah Vorstcllung, is undeniable. Yet this does not 
demonstrate that things are mere " Schall und Ranch." The brain 
is one factor and the objective reality outside of man is the other 
factor. Both united produce the world of our perceptions. — Ed.] 



Beyond the realms of dull and slumberous ni-^ht 

I long have wandered with unwearied feet ; 

The land where Poetry and Science meet 
Streaks the far distance with a magic light ; 
Fair visions glide before my dazzled sight. 

And shine, and change, and pass with motion fleet 

But never clear, and steadfast, and complete 
In one transcendent brilliancy unite. 
I know, the seeming discord is but mine ; 

The glory is too great for mortal eyes, 
All powerless to discover the divine 

And perfect harmony of earth and skies : 
I know that each confused and tortuous line. 

To fuller sight, in true perspective lies. 


The Proceedings of the Society for Psychical Research, Part A' r 
(London: Triibner & Co. ), contain eight special articles as fol- 
lows: "Address by the President, Professor Sidgwick on The 
Canons of Evidence in Psychical Research" ; "Address by the 
President on The Census of Hallucinations"; " On Recognised 
Apparitions Occurring more than a year after Death," by F. W. 
H. Myers ; " Further Experiments in Hypnotic Lucidity or Clair- 
voyance," by Professor Charles Richet ; "Duplex Personality: 
an Essay on the Analogy between Hypnotic Phenomena and 
certain Experiences of the Normal Consciousness," by Thomas 
Barkworth ; "Notes of Seances with D. D. Home," by William 
Crookes, F. R. S. ; "Experiments in Thought-Transference, " by 
Professor and Mrs. H. Sidgwick, and Mr. G. A. Smith ; "Inter- 
national Congress of Experimental Psychology," by A. T. Myers, 
M. D. ; " .Ad Interim Report on the Census of Hallucinations " ; 
Professor Pierre Janet's " Automatisme Psychologique, " by Fre- 
deric W. H. Myers; " Binet on the Consciousness of Hysterical 
Subjects," by F. W. H. Myers; "Das Doppel-Ich," by F. W. 
H- Myers ; ' ' Dr. Jules Janet on Hysteria and Double Personality, " 
by F. W. H. Myers; "Professor Liegeois on Suggestion and 
Somnambulism in Relation to Jurisprudence," by Walter Leaf ; 
"Two Books on Hypnotism" (Forel & Baierlacher), by Walter 
Leaf. " What any one has to do," says Professor Sidgwick, "who 
is convinced himself of the reality of any alleged marvel, is first 
to try, if he can, to diminish the improbability of the marvel by 
offering an explanation which harmonises it with other parts of 
our experience ; and, secondly, to increase the improbability on 
the side of the testimony, by accumulating experiences and varying 
conditions and witnesses." 


We differ from Dr. Gould with respect to the physiology of 
hypnotism. Hypnotism is not a " shutting out of the interme- 
diate centres," but of the centralizing organ, consciousness. For 
full explanation of our views see the articles, "Lethargy, Cata- 
lepsy, and Somnambulism," "Dreams and Hallucinations," 
"What is Hypnotism?" and "Suggestion and Suggestibility." 
Nos. 119, 123, 118, 124. 

We have received from Dr. Lewins, of London, three son- 
nets by the late Miss Constance C. W. Naden. They are of a 
very elevating and suggestive character, and, as Dr. Lewins 
says, "are quite in the line of the Neo-Philosophy advocated in 
Fundamental Problems." They will appear in separate numbers 
of The Open Court. 


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No. 136. (Vol. IV.— 6.) 

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Spring comes again ; and Eastertide reminds us of 
nature's immortalit}'. There is no death ! What seems 
so is transition. When in wintry weather the sun hides 
his face, northern blasts tear the leaves from our trees ; 
but now the sun is returned and new life grows on 
every branch, the verdure reappears in the fields and 
man's heart believes with strengthened confidence in 
the realization of human ideals. 

Easter day is the festival of Christ's resurrection, 
and the question has often been raised whether Easter 
day can with any consistency be celebrated by those 
who have ceased to believe in the sacred legend that 
Jesus Christ who died on the cross rose on the third 
day from the dead. We firmly maintain that it can 
and that it ought to be celebrated by all those who be- 
lieve in the revival of spring, in the constant resurrec- 
tion of human life, and in the immortality of our ideals. 

Eastertime is not at all exclusively a Christian 
festival; Eastertime is a festival of natural religion. 
Its very name is pagan, for Ostara was the goddess, of 
the returning light ; and light brings life. She was the 
Aurora, the Eos, of the Germans, the deity of the 
morning dawn in the East ; and the egg was the holy 
symbol that represented her mysterious powers. 

An egg is a wonderful thing; it has been the object 
of repeated investigations by our greatest naturalists; 
and our profoundest philosophers have pondered over 
the revelations of its marvelous secrets. The egg rep- 
resents the potentialities of life. Mere warmth is 
needed to change the apparently homogeneous and 
insensible yolk into a most complicated animal en- 
dowed with a certain degree of intelligence. The 
egg represents, as we now know, the actual mem- 
ories of chicken-life up to date. Its memories are 
not conscious memories, but the preservations of 
certain structures in living matter. They are motions 
of a certain form, which under favorable conditions 
and proper temperature will repeat all those motions, 
those vital activities, which its innumerable ancestors 
went through in uncounted ages past. 

How wonderful are the secrets of form, and, in 
spite of the complex applications of which the laws 
of form admit, how simple is the basic idea that ex- 
plains their mysteries 1 The artillerist, who aims his 
cannon, knows that a hair-breadth's difference in the 

angle of elevation will give another course to the mis- 
sile ; the curve of its motion will be changed with the 
variation of its determining factors. 

The egg contains the determining and formative 
factors of certain motions of living substance, not 
otherwise than three points represent the potentiality 
of a special kind of curve. The determining factors 
of the egg have, in their turn, been determined by the 
parental activities of its predecessors ; and thus the 
egg becomes a symbol of resurrection. 

Life is not extinct with the dissolution of individ- 
ual existence, for even the individual features are pre- 
served in coming generations. And, if this be true 
in the chicken, how much more is it true in man. 
Man's intellectual life has still other channels to be 
preserved in and transmitted to the souls of other 
men. These channels are human speech. The 
spoken word, and perhaps more so, the written or 
printed word, make it possible for the valuable 
thoughts of great thinkers and the enthusiastic as- 
pirations of poets to live among us as if their authors 
had never died. Indeed, they have not died, they 
live still. Their souls are, and will remain, active 
presences in mankind to shape the destinies, and to 
guide the future development of our race. 

Whether any given one of the heroes of mankind 
rose bodily from the dead or not, especially whether 
Christ rose bodily from the dead or not, is quite in- 
different for the truth of the constant resurrection 
which, as science teaches, continuously takes place in 
nature and in the evolution of humanity. Let us 
not say, because there is no truth in the fables of re- 
ligious mythology, that there is no resurrection what- 
ever. Let us not say that we do not care for such a re- 
surrection as can be observed around us in nature, and 
as can be experienced in human soul life ; that unless 
we rise as bodiless spirits, as taught by supernatural- 
istic religions, we do not care for any resurrection in 
which the continuity of our individual consciousness 
is interrupted. Let us not speak like spoiled children, 
who want their caprices fulfilled, and if they cannot 
have their whims satisfied, want nothing at all. Let 
us rather become familiar with the real facts of life, 
and we shall learn that truth is grander than fiction, 
and real nature is better than an imaginary super- 



We are told by men that aspire to be radical free- 
thinkers, that this conception of immortality is a re- 
vival of old superstitions. What a strange miscon- 
ception ! Man will die, they say, and if man is dead, 
all is over with him; death is an absolute finality; 
and no one, so they maintain, will care for any other 
than a personal immortality, in which the continuity 
of consciousness is preserved. 

Men of this class are not familiar with the facts of 
life. Not only is it true that life continues after the 
death of the individual, and that the work of every 
individual continues as one of the factors in the for- 
mation of the destinies of future generations, but also 
the care for what will be the state of things after our 
death is a most important motive in all our actions. 
We do care for what will take place after our death. 
We do care for the fates of our children, of our nation, 
of our country, of our ideals and hopes, and how our 
soul-life will affect the future development of man- 
kind. We do care for such a continuance after death, 
we do care for an immortality of ourselves, even if 
the continuity of our consciousness be broken. The 
fact that we care for such things is th^ basis of ethics ; 
it makes of man a moral being. This is the motive 
that compels even those who do not believe in per- 
sonal immortality, to sacrifice their lives for their be- 
loved ones, for their convictions, and for their ideals. 

Let us celebrate Eastertime as one of the most 
prominent festivals of natural religion. It is the feast 
of resurrection, it proclaims the immortality of life, 
and preaches the moral command, not to live for this 
limited life of our individual existence only, but to 
aspire to the beyond. Beyond the grave there is 
more life, and it is in our power to form and to 
shape that life for good or for evil. 



Of the many bits of folk-lore which cluster round 
Eastertide may be mentioned the ancient custom of 
"clacking." This folk usage still obtains in those 
European countries where beggars carry a wooden 
dish with a movable cover which they clack and clat- 
ter, to show that it is empty. Into this clack or clap- 
dish people drop their offerings or alms. For, on 
Easter Day, we are expected to be full of charity and 
kindly deeds. 

Indeed, we are continually reminded at Eastertide 
that the Master's words, " The poor ye have always 
with you," are freighted with a deep meaning. Forth- 
with an appeal is' made for money. We are told to 
'• Give ! Give freely to the poor." On the other hand, 
there is a strange tendency in certain writers and 
speakers to exaggerate the social evils of the present, 
either overlooking or forgetting those of the past. 

These people take up the cry that the rich are grow- 
ing richer, and the poor, poorer ; and then, Ichabod ! 
Ichabod ! .the glory will depart from our people. 
Thus, if Christian countries are less happy than Pa- 
gan lands, it is because the gulf between Dives and 
Lazarus is now wider, deeper and more impassable 
than ever it was in the time of Christ. But, after all, 
we cannot shut our eyes to the fact that the ' poor ' 
( ' the defective classes ' of the Tenth Census Report), 
ye have with you in increasing numbers. The greater 
part of the alarming increase of ' defectives ' between 
1870 and 1880 was found to have taken place in 
our cities. 

The fact is that, in our crowded centres, there is a 
mass of mixed and struggling population called ' 'the 
poor " — the unfit, the feeble, the scrofulous, the reck- 
less, the intemperate, and the improvident. The 
destitute classes are often the victims of inherited 
taints. They are born into harsh environments. 
They are preternaturally inclined to passion and wick- 
edness. They are apt to be short-lived, though their 
numbers remain about the same, from year to year, 
on account of recruits from the outside. The fecun- 
dity of these people comes up to the examples of the 
Old Testament, while their improvidence surpasses 
those of the New. For them, sufficient for the day is 
the evil thereof. They herd in dark dens and in great 
tenements, where family above family are packed in 
tiers. They share about as much in the amenities of 
our vaunted civilization as if they were in the wilds 
of Alaska. These 'poor' people, forsooth, ye have 
always with you — a constant reminder of that fash- 
ionable charity which has talked so much and accom- 
plished so little. Besides, the multiplication of the 
reckless, degraded, and vicious, usuallj' the result of a 
crapulous charity, brings both danger and duty — dan- 
ger to be averted only by strict performance of duty. 

And now the question is. Has " society " done its 
duty by the "poor"? Our fashionable philanthro- 
pists may tell you that there is hardly a decent want 
or a form of wretchedness for which provision has not 
been made ; that every pain and ache of the body 
politic finds some sweet oblivious antidote. They 
may point to the motley throng of organized charities 
which struggle for existence in our great cities. They 
may also show you that modern charity is now a regu- 
larly organized business, with paid officials, with large 
forces of clerks, and with proper esprit de corps. 

It is only too true that the charities of New York 
and Chicago, for example, are enormous, whether we 
consider the millions of dollars spent or wasted, as 
the case maybe. The poor in New York may be born 
in a public home ; they may be suckled and nursed in 
a public hospital ; they may be doctored in a public 
dispensary ; they may have their fuel and their neces- 


saries furnished by public officials ; they may be kept 
in prison, or in a reformatory, at the public cost ; they 
may be placed in old age in a public hospital, and 
when they die, the public sees that they have a decent 
burial. Thus, the poor in New York can be born, 
nursed, fed, clothed, schooled, physicked, and cared 
for, all at the cost of the public. In a single sentence, 
metropolitan charity comes in at every step and fully 
provides for every want from the cradle to the grave. 

For the purposes of this discussion, we may divide 
all our public measures of relief into two classes — 
those directed to out- door relief, and those directed 
to in-door relief. 

As to the out relief it is hard to understand why 
methods, which were condemned and abandoned in 
England after the Poor Law Reform in 1834, should 
be supposed to work with beneficial results in the 
United States. It is now urged that the present sys- 
tem of out-relief in our great cities should be done 
away with, in whole or in part. The argument is that 
this kind of relief weakens individual self-reliance ; 
that it stimulates fraudulent begging and imposture; 
that it thus leads to hereditary pauperism ; that it 
brings the idle poor into competition with the indus- 
trious poor ; that, finally, it is a great waste of money 
and good energy. 

"But surely," cry out our tender-hearted folk in 
alarm, "you would not inflict such hardship and suf- 
fering on the poor, as cutting off out-relief in our 
cities?" Yes, I would ; why not? Those who talk 
about inflicting pain and punishment on the " poor," 
by abolishing out-relief in cities, evidently do not 
know what they are talking about. The opponents of 
the present methods make a direct appeal to expe- 
rience, and to the tests of facts. 

Mark carefully the experience of one or two of 
our large cities. Previous to 1879 the city of Brook- 
lyn expended yearly about Sioo,ooo for out-relief. 
Suddenly, in the dead of winter, without any warn- 
ing, without any substitute, without any mercy, the 
city cut off all such relief. Of course, there was ter- 
rible suffering that winter ? The answer may be found 
in the official report. " In fact," says the report, 
" except for the saving of money, and the stopping of 
petty political corruption which has been carried on, 
and the cessation of the spectacle of hundreds of 
people passing through the streets with baskets of 
provisions furnished by the public, it would have been 
impossible to discover that the relief had been 

To this experience may be added the facts, as they 
appeared, in Philadelphia. In 1880 the Board of Vis- 
itors cut down the §70,000 of the year before to — 
well, nothing. But the suffering of the poor must 
have been very great, and the extra strain upon pri- 

vate charities must have been enormous ? It seems 
not. " For a few weeks," writes Dr. Walk, the Sec- 
retary of the Board — " for a few weeks we felt the in- 
creased pressure upon the private charities ; but that 
was only temporary." Since then, comparatively 
small amount of out-relief has been given in Phila- 

Again, the Boards of Charities in the differer.t 
states call attention, year after year, to the evils of this 
kind of relief. I cite the official language of State 
Commissioners in two western states. In their Report 
for 1886, the Illinois Commissioners say that, "under 
a wise system of relief the ratio of expenditure for aid, 
outside the almshouses, to that inside, ought to di- 
minish ; but the reverse is true."* The Ohio Com- 
missioners bluntly declare that out-relief in cities 
"should be abolished altogether." 

Once more, I would ask. Who are the philanthro- 
pists who spend the tax-payers' money ? Economists, 
penologists, students of sociology — men who have 
shown ability to care for the poor, men who are recog- 
nized for their aptitude in dealing with the "social 
problem " ? No, they are men (so the New York Com- 
missioners of State Charities say), who are selected 
in party strife, and whose success depends upon the 
activity and zeal of those who share in the public 
bounty. (Report for 1884, p. 34.) They are men 
(so the Ohio Commissioners declare), without culture 
or special training for dealing with insane, helpless, 
and destitute human beings. They are (to quote the 
language of the Ohio Report), "an insuperable bar- 
rier to reform of abuses, or progress towards a com- 
petent management." In fine, the root of the de- 
fects of the administration of public relief lies in par- 
tisan politics, and the evils that flow therefrom. 

Before going further, two plain propositions may 
here be advanced. 

1. We must go into the inquiry how paupers are 

2. We must base our charitable methods upon 
fundamental principles of common sense and ethics. 

Referring to the first proposition, I venture to 
affirm that most people have only a vague idea how 
paupers are made. Nay, I am sure that our tender- 
hearted people would start back in surprise at being 
told that they generally aid in the multiplication of 
the reckless, the degraded, and the vicious. It is 
simply a matter of experience that giving alms to all 
who ask it tends to encourage idleness, improvidence, 
or imposture. Thus, it has recently been found out 
that, where public and private charities cover the 
same field, they often co-operate to subsidize scores of 
families in idleness and ignorance. That is to say, 
clear-sighted philanthropists discovered at last that 

» Page 122. 


different societies often gave relief to the same peo- 
ple at the same time. 

Therefore, Charity Organization Societies have 
been established in the principal cities of the United 
States. Societies of this kind were first organized by 
Von der Heydt in Elberfeld, Germany, in 1853. The 
methods of charity organization are: first, the estab- 
lishment of a central bureau or clearing-house through 
which all charitable agencies can work in co opera- 
tion ; secondly, the creation of an agency for investi- 
gation and registration of those to whom relief has 
been given ; thirdly, the division of a town or city into 
wards, and each ward under the supervision of four, 
five or half a dozen visitors. Such a scheme of charity 
organization has the merit of doing away with two 
evils of long standing — overlapping and mendicant im- 

There is a beautiful notion afloat that the "poor" 
are to take from " society " all the bread that they can 
induce society to give. Now, paupers will be made 
as long as people think that, if bread comes it makes 
no difference how it comes. To give immediately to 
the individual case of suffering before us is one thing ; 
but, to track out the various and hidden courses of 
want and suffering, to make comprehensive plans for 
the prevention or the curing of vice and improvidence 
is another and entirely different thing. 

Again, has it never occurred to fashionable phi- 
lanthropists that their methods of relief when not cruel 
are clearly immoral ? Witness the guise in which 
charity often comes to relieve the poor. In the dead 
of winter, a cry not infrequently goes up from the 
"outcast" of great cities. Plainly speaking, those 
who get up a magnificent Charity Ball do not investi- 
gate, nor do they mean to be cruel. The sparkling 
diamonds, the rich dresses, and the glittering scene 
at the Ball are all described in the same paper that 
chronicles the direst poverty and the meanest suffer- 
ing. Once more the pains of Lazarus are narcotized 
till the glorious springtime. Then come May flowers, 
Coney Island, Cappa's Band in Central Park, chasing 
the ugly phantoms of winter across High Bridge till 
the snow flies again. 

Let us not lose sight of the ethics of charity. We 
all admit that we can no more escape the wages of sin 
than we can from the sickness and pain flowing from 
a violation of the laws of health. We all believe that 
a lack of self-reliance and prudence is followed by pri- 
vation and want. But a certain kind of Easter charity 
would overturn or neutralize this expiatory principle 
in the moral world. It is time to protest against a 
certain kind of fashionable philanthropy which pam- 
pers and coddles people who are the victims of their 
own wrong doing. 

Let us ask ourselves. Is this practice of confound- 

ing right and wrong likely to prove beneficial in the 
long run? To aid the bad in multiplying, says Mr. 
Spencer, is the same as maliciously providing for our 
descendants a multitude of enemies. We must take 
into account what is unseen as well as what is seen. 
For, what is seen, I am told, is History. What is not 
seen is — Mystery. The seen may be Margaret Jukes, 
a gutter child ; the unseen may be six generations of 
her worthless descendants — thieves, drunkards, pros- 
titutes, and paupers. 

According to the late Prof. Clifford, science i& 
nothing but organized common sense. Our modern 
philanthropy should become scientific.and our Easter 
charities should be based on organized common sense. 



The geological surveys of the Pacific Slope have 
verified the Spanish tradition of the Veta Madre — the 
existence of a trunk vein of precious ore running along 
the backbone of our continent from Chili to British 
North America. Within the next fifty years the de- 
velopment of the western mining industries will lead 
to one certain change in the monetary system of the 
commercial nations, viz., the depreciation of silver. 
Nevada alone contains fairly accessible silver ore 
enough to plate the surface of the state an inch thick, 
and the constant improvement of blasting and mining 
contrivances will soon make the material of our silver 
coins as common as copper and lead. " Bimetallism " 
may continue, but it will probably be changed to a 
basis of gold and platina. 

The gold-fever of '49 will repeat itself at various 
points of the Pacific coast-lands, in the Tulare Basin, 
and probably in the Contra Costa Range ; but inde- 
pendently of such bonanzas California will continue 
her career of increasing prosperity. Her orchards 
and vineyards will enable us to dispense with Smyrna ; 
and with tree-plantations enough to counteract the 
excessive aridity, the eternal summer of the southern 
counties will make their climate the most desirable in 
the world, and San Diego an international sanitarium. 

In 1950 the United States will have 200,000,000 
inhabitants, including a few million Spanish mestizos, 
for the southern frontier of our republic will then 
probably coincide with the southern boundary of the 
Tierra templada, the temperate tableland that stretches 
to the Isthmus of Tehuantepec, but which further 
south becomes too low to counteract the neighborhood 
of the equator. The frugivorous Indians do not deal 
in politics, and the hidalgos will not trouble us much 
more than in California, but their language will main- 
tain a brave struggle for existence, and will long sur- 

* Copyrighted under "American Auguries." 



vive as the vernacular of the peasant population. 
That Trans-Rio Grande Department with its ollas and 
pepper-sauces, will be the Hindostan of Anglo- 
America, and enrich many a New England nabob, as 
well as his physician; but in its highlands our land- 
scape gardeners will reproduce the Elysian fields of 
the classic mountain-countries. There the amateurs 
of climatic beatitude will pass the winter months till 
March, then recross the Rio Grande, enjoy the spring 
of the southern AUeghanies, spend the midsummer 
weeks in the White Mountains, and use their return- 
tickets in time to eat their Thanksgiving dinner with a 
dessert of fresh bananas. 

When the Gulf States shall be studded with south- 
ern Chicagos the increase of the passenger traffic will 
make it worth while to build railroads on the Eads- 
Garrison plan, roads with a ten foot gauge, and pro- 
portionate engines, that will make the trip from 
Maine to Oaxaca in forty-eight hours. Steamboats, 
too, will manage to combine safety with greater speed, 
and the perils of transatlantic travel will, before long, 
be diminished by the adoption of Captain Sommer- 
ing's system of "companion-steamers." Captain 
Sommering proposes to let steamers start pairwise 
and keep in sight of each other by means of fog- bells 
and electric lights. If one of the boat-; should meet 
with an accident, its companion will pounce to the 
rescue, and, as it is extremely improbable that both 
of them should founder at the same time, the perils 
of the sea will thus be reduced to a minimum. 

Transatlantic steamers will leave and arrive every 
few hours, and not in New York only, for by that time 
Baltimore, and probably Norfolk and Savannah, will 
have Castle Gardens of their own. Worn-out nations 
cease to colonize ; in the immigration statistics of the 
twentieth centur}' the Italians and French will be out- 
numbered by the North-Austrians, the Hungarians, 
and the manful natives of the Danubian principalities. 
And even before that time the inevitable crisis of the 
Eastern Question may flood our mountain states with 
a host of turbaned refugees — not too honest, perhaps, 
for the safety of stray sheep, but far too proud to beg. 
In Adrianople the Circassian fugitives began by pawn- 
ing their children, and were just going to raffle their 
pistols, when the arrival of a government commis- 
sioner enabled them to redeem their pledges. The 
current of Chinese immigration will be deflected to- 
ward Polynesia, and the black man and brother will 
wane apace and dissolve in the tide of the Caucasian 
influx; but the Mormon grievance, at the present rate 
of progress, will so speedily outgrow control that the 
chance of its abatement will soon depend upon the 
influence of schisms. How unavailing repressive le- 
gislation and political stratagems are for that purpose 
was strikingly illustrated by the effect of the recent 

elections, which aroused, instead of depressing, the 
defiant zeal of the "western Moslem." "Clouds have 
arisen on the People's horizon," says the Deserei News 
of February 11, i8go, "but behind them the sun of 
truth and freedom shines as brightly as ever. After a 
brief period of prevailing shadows, the mists of wrong 
will be dispelled, and the rights of the community, 
which have been shamefully invaded, will be re-estab- 
lished, nevermore to be trodden upon, under the 
machinations of the worst class of political thieves 
that ever disgraced the free government of America," 
etc., etc. 

The religion of the future may profess ulterior 
aims that cannot be inferred from the tendencies of 
the present transition period, but the promotion of 
earthly happiness will be recognized as one of its ob- 
jects, and that principle will assert its influence in the 
management of the North American cities. Every 
large town will have a system of free public baths. Of 
all the physical disabilities of our laboring classes, 
the want of free bathing facilities is probably the 
most severely felt, though often, perhaps, in the form 
of a vague and undefined discomfort. The summer- 
temperature of our Atlantic Slope, from Boston to 
Savannah, often equals that of Asiatic Turkey, and 
in twenty cities of more than 50,000 inhabitants the 
midsummer martyrdom of the poor is surpassed only 
by the dog-days misery of the British residents of 
Bomba)' and Singapore. Some of our eastern cities 
are surrounded by watering-places, which are not only 
cheaper, but more agreeable than those of western 
Europe, and which may be reached in two to three 
hours by any gentleman who has two dollars a day to 
spare. We have surf-baths, cheap bath houses, de- 
lightfully lonely beaches, and seaside swimming-schools 
within an hour's ride of Brooklyn and Baltimore, ac- 
cessible at excursion rates ten or twelve times each 
summer day. But how many of our working men can 
avail themselves of those liberal terms ? How many 
even of our small shopkeepers and trade-masters can 
afford to visit Atlantic City and Cape May as the hod- 
carrier of Buda Pesth visits his Raizen Bad, and the 
Lyons silk- weaker the Bains de Belief ontaine ? The 
neighborhood of a large river or lake only makes the 
deprivation more tantalizing, for, not to mention the 
defilement of their waters by factories and fat-render- 
ing establishments, the action of our municipal legis- 
lators upon the subject of public bathing is directly 
obstructive. All our lakeshore cities, and the principal 
towns along the Ohio and Mississippi have an elab- 
orate code of by-laws against bathing and swimming 
within the corporate limits, and in Chicago, St. Louis, 
and Cincinnati not a summer-day passes without the 
indictment of some poor lad who has become entan- 
gled in the contradictions between the physical laws 

2 1 84 


of God and the ethics of his native city. The visible 
violation of such statutes can hardly be more demor- 
alizing than the constant temptation to evade them, 
for the instinct which guides the gamin waterwards 
is as natural as the craving after fruit and cool drink- 
ing-water in warm weather, or after warm clothing in 
winter- time. 

Cold water is a tonic and antiseptic, and its fre- 
quent external application would almost counteract 
the sickening effects of our calorific diet, our woolen 
garments, our kitchen and workshop fires, and other 
heat-producing artifices which make us dread the ad- 
vent of the warm season as an annual instalment of 
purgatory. All our domestic habits tend to make win- 
ter more comfortable, and summer as uncomfortable 
as possible, and that we have actually succeeded in 
reversing the order of Nature is proved b)' the yearly 
exodus of our clergymen and merchant-princes, arid 
the epidemic hegiras to Europe at the approach of 
the summer-solstice, and the recommencement of the 
" gay season " at the beginning of winter. We return 
to enjoy our native clime when our migratory birds es- 
cape to foreign parts, and take to our heels when they 
return to celebrate the season of song and sunshine. 
There is no doubt that the municipal enactments re- 
ferred to have been dictated by an honest sense of 
duty, but it is equally certain that the beneficial effect 
of a legislative effort in the opposite direction could 
not be surpassed by the repeal of an ordinance against 
open windows in July, or the use of fuel in January. 
Thus far our mid-summer misery has been systemat- 
icallj' aggravated, and we may be sure that its natural 
remedies will be systematically improved as soon as 
the prevention of moral corruption and the promo- 
tion of physical health have been recognized as equiv- 
alent duties. 

Perfect health, however, depends upon sound and 
frequent bodily exercise, and in fifty years from now 
there will be a gymnasium in every American school, 
as there is a drug- shop in every Buddhist temple. 
The education of the body and of the mind will go 
hand in hand. Health is wealth, and the shrewdness 
of the " Eclectic Nation " will not fail to profit by the 
most useful lesson which the experience of the Old 
World could have imparted : the regenerative in- 
fluence of the Turnbund, and the unmistakable proof 
that physical debility is sure either to prevent or to 
delay success in every human enterprise. Since the 
invention of gunpowder the implements of warfare 
have become more and more automatic, but the 
chance of victory is still biased by the vigor, steadi- 
ness and power of endurance of the human hands 
that serve, and the human feet that carry those imple- 
ments. How else shall we explain the fact that in 
nine out of ten international contests the men of the 

North have prevailed against their southern adversa- 
ries ? Justice, superiority of numbers, of intelligence, 
and even of weapons, were often on the other side, 
but the Northmen, thanks to their hardy climate, were 
favored by superior physical strength. The same 
holds good of the contests of rival merchants, manu- 
facturers, and founders of rival sects, we might add, 
for health is the basis of all moral energy. Brilliant 
talents may be inherited in conjunction with wretched 
health, but their effective value will always depend 
upon physical conditions which physical exercise 
rarely fails to improve. Goethe, living in the ante- 
Turnbund era, used to recommend wood-chopping as 
a specific for mental exhaustion, "because," he said, 
"every physical effort exercises an invigorating in- 
fluence on the organ of the soul." 

That the effeminating effects of city-life have already 
begun to manifest themselves in East America cannot 
be doubted by the most superficial observer. The 
eastern half of our continent will soon be European- 
ized ; millions of our young men will follow occupa- 
tions involving indoor life and brain-work, or manual 
labor as unprofitable from a hygienic point of view, 
for drudgery is not exercise, and the lost opportunity 
and necessity for physical development must, before 
long, be compensated by adequate substitutes. 

Gymnastics supply that want in the cheapest and 
most effective way — but, as the Rev. Sidne}' Smith 
reminds us: " Communities, like children, generally 
make wry faces at what is to do them good, and it is 
necessary sometimes to hold the nose and force the 
medicine down the throat." Physical education, there- 
fore, ought to be gratuitous, and to a certain degree 
compulsory. In private colleges the adoption of the 
plan would, of course, remain optional with the man- 
agers ; but public patronage would soon discriminate 
in favor of institutions having provided some safeguard 
against a contingency not unfrequent in the chronicle 
of a modern alma mater: the physical collapse of 
students undergoing a forcing process of intellectual 

The sports of our children, like our national game, 
are trials of skill, rather than of strength, and if we 
should stick to baseball while our European cousins 
renew the games of the Olympic arena, the West might 
have cause to dread the issue of an intercontinental 
war. The victors of Xeres de la Frontera would have 
smiled at the idea of a defensive war against the de- 
spised Giaours, but when they introduced Mauritanian 
dances, and cock-fights, and left tournaments to their 
Christian rivals, their power in the peninsula began to 
decline, in spite of their temperance, their frugality, 
and superior scientific attainments. 

Not luxury, hot gluttony or intemperance, but 
physical indolence, is the name of the disease that has 



prostrated the descendants of the preux chevaliers and 
the haughty countrj'men of the Cid. The tough con- 
stitution of the Spanish hidalgos resisted the introduc- 
tion of Oriental wines and vices, and would have re- 
sisted the influx of the American-silver deluge ; but 
the invention of gunpowder was the turning-point of 
their prosperity. Not when they commenced to cul- 
tivate their minds, as Jean Jacques Rousseau fancied, 
but when they ceased to exercise their bodies, they be- 
gan to lose ground against their northern rivals, who 
loved athletic sports for their own sake and whose 
manhood refused to abdicate in favor of saltpetre. 
Nations have not been ruined by abandoning them- 
selves to luxurious habits but by abandoning those 
habits which enabled them to resist the effects of lux- 
ury. Milo of Crotona, the Emperor Maximin, the 
heroes of the Iliad, and the iron-fisted followers of 
Alaric exceeded other mortals in gluttony as much as 
in martial prowess, and were as fond of wine as of war. 
Italy does not owe the loss of her prestige to the vices 
of Crotona, but to the vices of Sybaris. 


It is a well known fact to which scientists and 
thinkers have more than once called our attention, 
that there is no natural death among the lowly organ- 
ized animals that stand at the bottom of the ladder of 
evolution. Moners and amoebas grow and divide ; and 
if they are not starved or crushed to death, they will 
live and multiply into eternity. The moner which we 
fish out of a pond of stagnant water for observation 
to-da}', is the same individual or part of the same in- 
dividual that lived aeons ago, long long before man ap- 
peared upon earth. 

Is not man a part of animal life, and indeed the 
highest part? How is it that he must die? If immor- 
tality is the natural state of those creatures of which 
all higher animate beings are but complex and dif- 
ferentiated forms, how did it happen that death came 
into this world of life ? 


Death is the twin of birth. It seems natural to say 
that all that lives must die. This, however, is a wrong 
statement of facts. It is more correct to say that every 
creature that is born will die. Birth is the beginning 
of a new being and death is its end. Yet we shall 
easily recognize the truth that neither birth is an ab- 
solutely new beginning nor death an absolute finality. 
Beginning and end of individual life are relative. 

When we investigate the problem of the origin of 
death, we must at the same time answer the ques- 
tion, " How did birth come into the world? " 

The moner knows of no birth ; it grows and di- 

vides, thus passing beyond the limits of its individual 
existence. There is not a mother-moner, and its child ; 
there are only the results of a division. The same 
moner is before us, not in one coherent lump, but 
in two parts. 

The propagation of moners, the lowliest organized of beings, occurs by 
spontaneous division, A. The complete moner— a Protamceba. B. Splitting 
up of the same by a median contraction, into two halves. C Each of the two 
halves has separated from its companion and makes up an independent in- 
dividual. (After Haeckel.) 

The process is a little more complicated in such 
unicellular organisms as the amaba sphaerococcus 
for instance. This amoeba contains a nucleus {A, b), 
with a nucleolus (^A, a) ; and its plasma (A, e) is 
encased in a membrane {A, if). When the amoeba 
grows the nucleolus doubles, and the plasma bursts 
its membrane (as seen in B). Each nucleolus forms 
its own nucleus, and the plasma gathering round each 
nucleus begins to separate into two parts, until the 
division is perfect. 



The propagation of this unicellular organism takes place by spontaneous 
division. A. Encased amceba, a simple spherical cell, consisting of a lump of 
protoplasm (<r), which contains a nucleus (*) and a nucleolus [a), and is en- 
closed in a membrane. B. The released amceba that has burst its cyst or 
membranous pouch and left it. Its nucleus contains two nucleoli. C The 
amceba begins to divide, its nucleus splitting up into two nuclei and the plasma 
between the two contracting. D, The division is completed, the plasma also 
having been completely divided intotwo parts {Da and D/'). (After Haeckel. 
Natiirliche Schopfungsgeschichte.) 

The next step in the evolution of a ' growth be- 
yond the limits of individual existence ' is gemmation. 
Gemmation is a process that can be observed in spring 
in all trees and flowers. A bud appears, and grows 
rapidly to maturity. Many worms, some medusas, 
and some corals multiply by gemmation. In gemma- 
tion the parts are not equal at the start. There is a 
mother, and a child ; for the division is only partial, 
and the child begins as a germ. 

Sporogony is not much different from gemmation ; 
it is the secretion of germinal cells, called spores. 


The spores possess the faculty of developing the same 
structures of which its mother organism consists. 

Sporogony is the connecting link leading to sex- 
ual generation, which for all higher stages of life is 
destined to become the sole method of procreation. 
Among that order of beings whose nature is not yet 
so defined that they can be classed either with animals 
or with plants, and which Professor Haeckel calls 
protists, many instances are to be found where the 
procreation of spores results from a union of two in- 
dividual cells. These cells may, in many cases, yet 
not always, be of a homogeneous nature. And in the 
course of further advancement the two cells become 
distinct ; they commence to disintegrate into two dif- 
ferent and complementary elements, which show an 
affinity for one another, similar to that between chem- 
ical alkalis and bases which tend to unite into salts. 
As soon as this differentiation takes place we have ex- 
amples of sexual generation. 

A shows the two individuals in immediate contact ; 3, mouth ; z\ c, con- 
tractile vesicle ; », nucleus ; «M, nucleolus or attendant nucleus, i. e., new for- 
mation of a smaller nucleus. 

S. The attendant nucleus divides into two segments, ««' and njt\ The 
old nucleus ?/ shows signs of regression. 

C. After the division of the segments has been completely effected, one 
segment of each individual is exchanged for one of the other individual, when 
a union of both as thus exchanged takes place. 

D shows an unequal breaking up of the newly formed mixed nucleus into 
a larger (««' and a smaller {nun) segment. 

E. The o'd nucleus dries up, and the larger segment of the new-formed 
nucleus assumes its function in the individual ; the smaller segment forms the 
new attendant nucleus. 

Many details of this process, the investigations regarding which have. been 
carried on particularly by Butschli, Maupas, and Balbiani, have not as yet 
been satisfactorily established. Whether the exchange of the differentiated 
parts takes pUce through the mouth or through a special orifice, could not, 
owing to the small size of the creatures, be determined. Still, whatever ob- 
scurity may prevail in matters of particular process, it is firmly settled that 
we have to deal in such cases with a fertilization constituting the beginning 
of sexual generation. 

Multiplication by division is not entirely limited 
to the very lowest creatures ; we find it also among 
animals that stand comparatively high in the scale 

of evolution, much higher at least than the moner 
Some polyps, and among them corals, multiply by di- 
vision. Their mouths, having the appearance of a 
flower, grow broader in size ; the opposite edges ap- 
proach each other at the median line, until they unite. 
Thus the two corners of the mouth are separated for 
good and form two corals upon one stalk. 

There is, for the individual animals that come into 
existence, a great advantage in the process of multi- 
plication b}' division. Every moner, every polyp thus 
produced starts in life as a full-fledged creature. 
There is no state of infancy with all its troubles and 
dangers to be passed through, for these creatures make 
their first appearance in a state of maturity. It is 
natural that the form and soul of the original organism 
should thus be preserved in all the details of their 
parts. The heredity of these animals is no similarity, 
but absolute identit}'. 

These advantages are lost in the measure that the 
procreation of new individuals approaches the system 
of sexual generation. Buds are at first very tender 
and may easily be injured before they are as strong as 
their mother organism. Spores are helpless and may 
be devoured as food by the many hungry animals that 
swarm about them. And the higher we rise in the 
scale of evolution the greater become the difficulties 
of a germ to reach maturity. These disadvantages to 
the individual, however, are richly overbalanced by 
the higher advantages afforded through greater possi- 
bilities of development and progress. The struggle 
for life grows fiercer, yet in and through the struggle 
the organisms grow stronger ; they adapt themselves 
to conditions, first unconsciously, then consciously, and 
in man they acquire that foresight and circumspec- 
tion which make him the lord of creation. 

Those animals that survive can upon the whole sur- 
vive only by great efforts ; they were not strong at the 
start, so they had to learn to be strong ; they were un- 
mindful in the presence of dangers, so they had to 
learn to be on their guard in perilous situations. In 
every respect they had to pass through a severe school 
and every single virtue that can lead them onwards, 
they had to acquire themselves. 

Innumerable individuals, it is true, are sacrificed 
in the struggle for existence ; yet their lives are not 
mere waste in the household of nature : they are the 
martyrs of progress ; and the generation of to-day lives 
upon the fruits of their sacrifice. 

In sexual generation there is a blending of two in- 
dividuals which affords greater possibilities for im- 
provement. The conditions under which the com- 
plementary germs unite, and the proportions of their 
mixture may be different. Thus a variety is produced 
which admits of a selection of the best, the strongest, 
and the most adapted for survival. The original con- 



servatisni of life that tended to reproduce itself ex- 
actly, down to the minutest details, is in this way not 
abolished, but modified or checked by the possibility 
of changes. Life becomes more plastic ; and the se- 
vere teacher of life, nature, takes care that bad qual- 
ities unfit for preservation will soon discontinue. 


There is a moral in the victory of sexual genera- 
tion over the multiplication by division. Sexual or 
amphigonous generation is less egotistical than non- 
sexual or monogonous generation. It is no mere re- 
production of self, but the reproduction of a unison of 
two selves. Sexual generation, propagation by birth, 
and the helplessness of offspring in infancy impose 
heavy duties, as of nursing and education, upon parent- 
individuals; yet the performance of these duties is 
richly rewarded in the progress of the race. These 
duties teach even creatures of lower rank to care 
for the preservation of their kind more in their chil- 
dren than in their individual selves. The rise to 
higher planes in evolution is conditioned by the de- 
velopment of moral faculties. 

The sacrifice that creatures have to bring for the 
amelioration of their offspring is greater still : they 
have to sacrifice their individual immortalitj'. It ap- 
pears that the regenerative faculty of an amceba de- 
pends upon the function of its nucleus, perhaps even 
of the nucleolus. The ingenious experiments of Gruber, 
Nussbaum, and Ehrenberg, prove, that if we cut out 
the nucleus from one of the lowly organisms the 
animal will continue to live, but that it has lost the 
power of renewing its form.* Balbiani, who repeated 
the experiments of Gruber upon Stentor caruleus, 
shows in the adjoined diagram the renewal of the 
whole individual from any part if but one nucleus be 


The nucleus of Stentor cteritUus consists of a chain of nuclear beads. 
The prefixed figure shows the restoration of the middle section which con- 
tains only a single nucleus. After M. Balbiani. t 

It is the nucleus that in lower animals represents 
the inner organs of reproduction, which, as we have 

* Biologisches Centralblati, 1885, p. yi ; Encyclopedia Britannica, Pro- 

t From Alfred Binet's monograph, The Psychic Life of Micro-Organisms- 
Open Court Pub. Co., Chicago, 111. 

seen, in the two sexes are differentiated into two com- 
plementary parts. In a child the differentiation of 
the nucleus into either a male or a female germ has 
begun but is not yet perfect. The child, still pos- 
sessing a re-formative nucleus, thus grows ; and in 
many respects its tender system possesses more vital- 
ity than an adult person. But as soon as the child 
has reached the state of maturity, when the differen- 
tiation of the nucleus has become perfect, its growth 
ceases. The nucleus in each individual of the two 
sexes no longer being complete loses its re form- 
ative power with regard to the individual and can 
temporarily regain it only through fecundation. Prop- 
erly speaking neither man nor woman is a perfect and 
independent being. Separately they are mortals, they 
are doomed to die. They will live for a while like a 
micro organism whose nucleus is imperfect. Yet in 
their unison, man and woman together, are as im- 
mortal as the moner. 

Upon this fact is based the holiness of matrimony. 
Matrimony is a union not for this life only, but for our 
life after death in the coming generations. This makes 
of wedlock an act of religious sanctity ; and it is ap- 
parent that it should not be entered upon merely from 
personal considerations, for the benefit, the pleasure, 
or happiness of either or both parties. The future 
of humanit}' depends upon the sacredness of matri- 

Birth, we have learned, is a special kind of multi- 
plication ; and, as such, it is a growth beyond the limits 
of individual existence. Before the life of a child 
commenced, it was a part of its parents ; and its ex- 
istence is nothing but an outgrowth and a continua- 
tion of their lives. Thus the immortality of the 
moner is not lost in the higher stages of organized 
life, it only becomes more spiritual. It ceases more 
and more to be an identity of the body, and becomes 
a preservation of the soul. The soul of an animal, 
however, is not its mere shape, not its present form 
alone, but its formative principle also : the form of 
special motions, and the form to which these motions 
in a further evolution will lead. The soul of an as- 
piring man is not only the faculties he possesses at 
present, but the ideals also which he aspires to ; it is 
the direction of his energy and the goal of his en- 
deavors. This preservation of human souls, admit- 
ting of development, is therefore greatly superior to 
the conservatism of the soul-life in moners ; it is the 
preservation, not of the present form, but of an up- 
ward movement, of the soul of soul, and this leads 
to a realization of ever higher possibilities. 

Is the immortality of soul-life not more valuable 
than individual existence? If the death of ourselves, 
as individuals, is the price thereof, let Death have 
his prey, and let him teach us the earnestness of life, 


so that we may regulate our conduct, not from the 
standpoint of narrow egotism, not according to the 
view that death is a finality, but from the ethical stand- 
point of immortality. 


Death is no finality, and we must not form our rules 
of conduct to accord with the idea that the exit of 
our individual life is the end of all. People who have 
no interests, no hopes or fears, no cares or ideals that 
reach beyond the grave, may enjoy themselves better 
than others who live their lives with a constant pros- 
pect of immortality ; yet, in the long run of many 
generations they will go to the wall. Nature does 
not preserve the individual that cares for itself alone. 
But nature preserves those individual features of 
great men who conquer egotism, and lead moral lives 
of self-discipline and ideal aspirations. 

The immortality of the soul was instinctively felt 
even before man could have a distinct and clear idea 
about its possibility. The moral teachers of mankind 
found it necessary to build their ethics upon this 
truth, and it is not at all to be wondered at that the 
opinions of the churches survived in the struggle for 
existence against those people who looked upon death 
as an absolute finality. The belief in the immor- 
tality of soul life is a marvelous preservative among 
the many dangers and temptations of the world, and 
the ethics that are derived therefrom are innervating 
and refreshing and strengthening. 

The immortality of the soul was taught to be 
the migration of a disembodied ghost, who was sup- 
posed to wander through unknown haunts, or to soar 
upward to some distant star. We now know that this 
view is, upon scientific grounds, untenable. But this 
erroneous conception was, after all, truer than the 
flat denial of any immortality. The truth that lives 
in the error keeps it alive, to the great astonishment 
of those who look upon the immortality of the soul as 
a mere superstition. 

The ethics that Sophocles taught in his time was a 
rule of conduct dictated by a regard for our state after 
death. There was nothing higher, nothing greater 
to a Greek citizen than obedience to the laws of his 
country. Yet the regard for our state after death, 
the poet declared, is holier still ; it is an unwritten 
law graven in our hearts, and it rules supreme over 
all the written laws of states. The ruler of a city 
may impiously deny the rite of burial to his enemy ; 
he may, by the written law of state authority, inflict 
capital punishment upon the transgressor. But a 
woman like Antigone will disobey the royal authority, 
because of the higher authority of the unwritten law 
in her heart. An offence like that is a righteous of- 

Sophocles makes her declare to Creon the motive 
of her deed in the following lines : 

"Thus have I righteously offended here. 
For longer time, methinks, have I to please 
The dwellers in that world than those in this ; 
For I shall rest forever there ; but thou 
Dishonor, if thou wilt, the laws divine." 

The whole gist of ethics — if it be real ethics, and 
not mere worldly prudence — is the regulation of life 
from the standpoint of eternity. The attempt has 
been made by philosophers who look upon death as 
a finality, to construct a new kind of ethics which 
should have nothing to do with any aspirations that 
reach beyond the grave. They succeeded to a cer- 
tain extent ; they succeeded in so far as they showed 
that all egotism will necessarily fail to accomplish its 
ends, and that those who yearn for happiness will be 
sure never to gain it. Therefore, they said, if you want 
happiness, do not seek it, do not long for it, for if 
you do, you will miss it. * This is the negative result 
of an attempt to base ethics on man's yearning for 
happiness ; and this result is most valuable, in so far 
as it proves that our yearning for happiness is just 
that instinct which must be checked by the behests 
of ethics. 

Ethics must be based on facts, and must be applied 
to facts. The facts of soul life and its relations to 
the surrounding world, do not make it likely that liv- 
ing creatures exist for the mere enjoyment of life. 
Happiness is one important component of life. But 
so is work, so is recreation, so is the endeavor to 
progress, and so is the satisfaction of having accom- 
plished something useful for humanity. Happiness is 
not the end and purpose of life. If it were, the great 
pessimist, Schopenhauer, would be right, that life is 
not worth its own troubles. Life is the denouement, 
the development, the evolution of the cosmos. If 
life can be said, at all, to have a purpose, it is its own 
evolution. And the evolution of life is no mere blind 
struggle for existence, but a race in an arena for ethi- 
cal aspirations. 

Let us not look for ease in this world unless it be 
on the eve of a life that has been full of aspirations 
and labor. There is no ease for those who wish to pro- 
gress. And let us find satisfaction not in the pleasures 
of life, but in the noble struggle for advancement and 

Facts being as they are, we must adapt ourselves 
to facts. If we do, we shall master them and govern 
the course of nature. But our adaptation to facts must 
not be from to-day to to-morrow, but so far as we can 
see. It must be made from the standpoint of immor- 

^ Mr. Herbert Spen 

I the Popular Scientijic Monthly for August, 

compares happiness to the bull's eye of a target which must not be directly 
aimed at. " If you do," the instructor in archery says, "you will inevitably 
miss it." Happiness, we agree with Mr. Spencer, is generally desired ; but 
says Mr. Spencer, " happiness will not be found if it is directly sought." 



tality, and with due regard for the unity of all life upou 
earth and in consideration of the grand possibilities 
and noble ideals of mankind. Here lies the basis of 
ethical aspirations. p. c. 



The Editor of The Open Court, in his reply to my rejoinder, 
has made, I doubt not, the ablest argument of which his case ad- 
mits ; yet he has said nothing as to any point of mine, I think, 
which a simple reference to my presentation of the point will not 
effectually rebut With his permission, however, I will add a 
word in conclusion. Nothing would suit me better, if the circum- 
stances warranted it, than to take up all the articles of his reply, 
in their order, and give to each a distinct commentary ; but this 
would be trifling with the space of The Open Court, if not with the 
time of the jury. It would be "wasteful, and ridiculous excess. " 
But a closing word may not be out of place. 

In opening my rejoinder, I defined agnosticism in the follow- 
ing terms : " The unknowable is that which not merely is known 
as a fact only, but is incapable of being known otherwise — known 
as existing, but not knovvable in its nature — the incomprehensible. 
The recognition of something which admits of this knowledge 
only is agnosticism." Bearing in mind this definition, the jury of 
The Open Court will please turn their attention again to these 
words of the Presiding Judge, among others of the same tenor : 
"The question itself, as to the cause of existence in general, is 
not admissible, for the law of causation is applicable to all phe- 
nomena of nature, but not to the existence of nature, which must 
be accepted as a fact. " This is saying that existence in general 
not merely is known as a fact only, but is incapable of being 
known otherwise ; and this, in turn, is admitting that existence in 
general is unknowable. The admission, it will be observed, is di- 
rect, distinct, definitive ; it is as clear as noonday. Nevertheless, 
the Editor denies it. What does his denial mean ? It is evidently 
absurd, yet it comes from a mind of high culture, and of uncom- 
mon gifts — richly endowed and admirably trained. What does it 
all mean ? 

To the gratification of the jury, in a double sense, perhaps, 
I shall close the pending discussion, so far as I am concerned, by 
answering this knotty question, which, to say the truth, I have 
been putting to myself at every stage of the discussion. In real- 
ity, yie sole purpose of the discussion, on my part, has been to 
get an answer to this question. Thanks to my chivalrous and ac- 
complished adversary, the key of the riddle is now in my hands. 
" It is true," he says, " that I concede the existence of insolvable 
problems ; but the existence of insolvable problems proves noth- 
ing in favor of agnosticism. Let us see what an insolvable 
problem is. Take, as an instance, the squaring of the circle." 
He then mentions the fact that Prof. Lindemann, of the University 
of Konigsberg, has recently "taken the immense trouble to 
demonstrate that the problem is insolvable, and to explain why it 
is insolvable," and proceeds: " This settles the question. The 
squaring of the circle being shown to be impossible, the problem 
is solved. The solution is negative. " Exactly. All is now plain. 

An insolvable problem, in the Editor's vocabulary, it seems, 
is a problem that is solved by proving that it can never be solved : 
from which it follows that there is after all no such thing as an 
insolvable problem If a problem does not admit of a positive 
solution, it admits of a negative one, and either way the problem 
is solved. Applying this short and easy method to the question in 
hand, he asserts, with the true hardihood of the theorist, that ex- 
istence in general is knowable, because it is demonstrably un- 
knowable : the comprehension of it being shown to be impossible. 

it is comprehended— the question is solved The solution, to be 
sure, is negative, demonstrating that existence in general is un- 
knowable ; but, in cases of necessity, a solution is a solution, 
whether negative or positive. The gnostic must have his pound 
of knowability. The theory give; it ; and he stands ready, with 
his long knife of a negative solution, to cut it from the heart of 
reason— out- Shylocking Shylock. A positive solution, indeed, is 
required to solve a solvable problem ; but, when we come to an 
insolvable problem, no solution is as good as a solution, and 
equally entitles us to speak of the problem as solved. Conse- 
quently, he reasons, with delicious but systematic inconsequence, 
existence in general, being an insolvable problem, is ipso facto 
solved — is not incomprehensible for the reason that it is incompre- 
hensible ; and to affirm (in the face of its demonstrated incompre- 
hensibility) that it is incomprehensible is agnosticism. 

As the clown says of Sir Toby Belch, this is " admir.ible fool- 
ing" ; but. gentlemen of the jury, I submit to you whether or not 
it is philosophy. One thing is certain. It unties all the knots of 
my question : it unlocks the riddle. In admitting that existence in 
general comes under the definition of the unknowable, and yet 
denying that it is unknowable, he means, simply and soberly, that 
a thing is not unknoioable 7vhen it is shown to be unknoivable : noth- 
ing more, nothing — I was about to say less, but that goes without 
saying, for there is nothing less. And this is monism — positive 
monism ! I hope no one will accuse me of being wise after the 
fact, if I say that from the first I have suspected as much, But 
it seemed incredible. Who could have felt sure that the smoke- 
begotten genie, whose feet were on the earth and whose head was 
in the clouds, could be put snugly, by a little shaking, into the 
vial of this verbal quirk ? Well, asking his pardon, and everybody 
else's, I am glad that he is vialled at last, and, if I were his dis- 
coverer, I can but think that I should instantly replace the stop- 
per, and seal it very close ; but one can never tell with certainty 
what one might do in a dire extremity. 

Gentlemen, I shall not tax your patience further. You of 
course will listen to the final instructions of His Honor, with the 
interest which their ability cannot fail to command, and with the 
respect and sympathy that so well become not only your relation 
to his high office, but the solid merits of his character : be it so. 
I have no fear for the result. To your judgments, enlightened 
certainly if not quite unbiased, I confidently entrust the case. 


We should have no objection to Mr. Shipman's agnosticism if 
he were to say : " Facts are the basis of all knowledge ; knowledge 
cannot and must not go beyond facts, for knowledge is nothing else 
than a systematized representation of facts" In such a case, only 
the name of agnosticism would appear objectionable. However, 
Mr. Shipman again and again speaks of a fact the existence of which 
alone is knowable, but which otherwise is said to be incapable of 
being known. Such a thing is a nonentity, an impossibility ; it is 
not a fact. Facts are always knowable, not only in their general 
existence but in their concrete individual manifestations also. 
Facts are knowable, classifiable, and comprehensible. 

In affirmation of his position (i) Mr. Shipman again quotes 
from Fundamental Problems the sentence that " the law of causa- 
tion is not applicable to existence in general," and maintains this 
to be tantamount to a concession on my part that " existence in 
general " is unknowable ; and (2), he relies on the existence of 
insolvable problems.* 

Mr. Shipman's chief mistake is his lack of accuracy in dis- 
tinction. If I speak of " insolvable problems," he substitutes for 

*The two questions must not be confounded — as they are by Mr. Shipman 
who speaks as if I had declared that the nature of existence in general were 
an insolvable problem. 

2 190 


" insolvable " the expression "incomprehensible"; if I speak of 
the "inadmissibility of causation to existence in general," he sub- 
stitutes " unknowabiliiy of existence in general" and then most 
positively affirms that I had conceded, I had admitted, all he wants. 
He introduces by such phrases as "he asserts " and " he reasons " 
certain sentences which, if the quotation-marks were not missing, 
I would call pseudo-quotations. These quasi-quotations are ren- 
dered nonsensical by the substitution of the very ideas between 
which IVtr. Shipman has proved himself unable to discriminate ; 
and he then ingenuously applauds his imaginary victory. Mr. 
Shipman acts in conformity with the principle that "a bold asser- 
tion is half the proof " ; but he merely demonstrates by his triumph- 
ant attitude that he has utterly failed to understand my arguments. 
I submit the following explanations to Mr. Shipman's new, or 
rather re-newed, misapprehensions. 


' "Existence in general" is an abstraction. What is an ab- 
straction ? An abstraction is a word-symbol by which we compre- 
hend a special quality observed in several things. Redness is an 
abstraction ; it is a certain quality by virtue of which the luminous 
ether-p articles vibrate in such a way as to produce in an eye the 
special sensation which we call red. Redness is not a thing but 
a quality which we notice in many objects around us ; viz., in a 
drop of blood, in red roses, in the brilliant light of a sunset, etc. 
We have abstracted, i. e., we have taken away in our mind, this 
quality from the various red objects, omitting all their other 

"Existence in general" denotes the quality that all things 
that exist have in common ; and it omits all those qualities that 
they have not in common. " Existence in general" excludes time, 
it excludes change, it thus excludes also causation. The law of 
cause and effect is applicable to all phenomena of nature, but of 
course it is not applicable to existence in general, if the latter 
means that quality which has no reference to time, to change, and 
to causation, and which in the diamond, forin'tance, would remain 
in case the diamond were transformed into other forms of carbon. 

If changes were to be iocluded in the term "existence in gen- 
eral," the law of cause and effect would be applic.ible to "ex- 
istence in general " just as much as to any natural phenomenon. 
In that case the present state of existence Would have to be con- 
sidered as the effect of its past state and the cause of its future 
state ; and these changes are observable, classifiable, knowable, 

Does Mr. Shipman seriously maintain that "existence in gen- 
eral" is an unknowable something, whi'e the existing things from 
which this idea has been abstracted are, as he confesses, know- 
able ? 

The vice of Mr. Shipman's logic is that he considers abstrac- 
tions as facts, and treats them as if they were things. Hence his 
error that existence in general, like a metaphysical essence, is 
supposed to be something outside of, and distinct from, the mani- 
festations of existence. No wonder that it appears to him incom- 


Insolvable problems, such as squaring the circle, are prob- 
lems that are wrongly stated. The problem to construct a plane 
equilateral triangle, the angles of which are all right angles, is 
such an insolvable problem. It is insolvable, because it contains 
contradictory demands of which the one is inconsistent with the 
other. Both cannot be realized at the same time. Insolvable prob- 
lems are illegitimate ; they are based upon errors : they are 
errors. Is the existence of errors, or of inconsistent and unreal- 
izable demands any evidence of agnosticism ? Mr. Shipman 
strangely enough affirms that it is. 

Hebbel tells a story about a company on a steamer, in which, 

for the sake of pastime, riddles were proposed. Every one who 
guessed right received a sixpence from and every one who had to 
give up had to pay the same amount to, the person who had pro- 
posed the riddle A poor Jew, Hebbel tells us, had made good 
guesses and thus earned several sixpences. When his turn came 
he asked ; " How can you put three fishes in three pans, so as 
to have two fishes in each pan, and none left ?" Everyone of 
the passengers had to give it up, and paid his sixpence. After the 
smart Jew had collected the money all round, he was urged to give 
his solution, and he said : "I don't know it myself ; here is my 
sixpence ! " 

The insolvabili:y of illegitimate problems is the argument 
with which Mr. Shipman confidently imagines he refutes posi- 
tive philosophy, and this is the shaky ground upon which agnos- 
ticism stands. Agnosticism has wrongly formulated the philoso- 
phic problem and consequently finds it as insolvable as the Jew's 

The agnostic plays with his own errors as the kitten does with 
its tail. He moves in a vicious circle ; regarding the fallacies of his 
own argument, which make the world incomprehensible to him, 
as proofs that the w. rid is really incomprehensible. 

What we demand of a philoiophy is not a confounding of all 
issues, so that we are hopelessly benighted by our own confusion ; 
what we demand is clearness, exactness, and discrimination ; posi- 
tive issues and positive answers ! p. c. 



I DREAMED, and saw a modern Hell, more dread 
Than Dante's pageant ; not with gloom and glare. 
But all new forms of madness and despair 

Filled it with complex tortures, some Earth-bred, 

Some born in Hell ; eternally full fed. 

Ghosts of all foul disease-germs thronged the air ; 
And as with trembling feet I entered there, 

A Demon barred the way, and mocking said — 

" Through our dim vales and gulfs thou needs not rove ; 

From thine own Earth and from its happiest lot 
Thy lust for pain may draw full nourishment. 

With poignant spice of passion ; knowest thou not 
Fiends wed for hate as mortals wed for love 

Yet find not much more anguish ? Be content." 


Problems of the Future, and Essays. By i'. Laiiig. London : 

1889. Chapman and Hall. 

This is a useful and interesting book. It contains not the 
original theories of the author himself but rather a criticism and 
comparison of current speculations, dogmas, and opinions. It is 
written in a sceptical spirit but is none the worse for that This 
is a critical age, and any views on any subject which are afraid of 
the hot crucible deserve suspicion. 

Mr. Laing has done for us what few of us are able to do for 
ourselves ; he has gathered the opinions of the great authorities on 
the " Problems, "and compared them. It would take the ordinary 
reader a very long time to find out for himself what has been pre- 
sented to him here in easy and interesting lessons. 

The subjects treated of are scientific, social, political, and 
religious, beginning with the problem of ' ■ Solar Heat, " and ending 
with that ominous and eternal puzzle about "Population and 
Food." From a comparison of the numerous guesses made by men 
of science as to the heat of the sun, and what causes it, the author 
passes to a discussion of "What the Universe is Made of," the 
laws of ' ' Climate, " the Time and Duration of the "Glacial Period, " 



the evidence for the existence of the "Tertiary Man," and the 
place of the " Missing Link " 

Passing from the physical sciences, Mr. Laing explains the 
" Religion of the Future," and compares " Agnosticism and Chris- 
tianity," much to the disadvantage of the latter ; then he analyzes 
the " Historical Element in the Gospels, " and pronounces it worth- 
less. After that come essays on "Scepticism and Pessimism," 
" Creeds of the great Poets," "Armed Europe," "Taxation and 
Finance," closing with a study of the food question, the most ur- 
gent and troublesome of all. 

This is a wide range of subjects, and we ought not to expect 
Mr. Laing to handle them all equally well. He modestly says 
that the advanced student of science will find little in the book 
which he does not already know, but it is written for that large 
and increasing class, who have already acquired some elementary 
ideas of science and who desire to know more. To this class the 
book will be of great assistance. 

Leaving the interesting speculations about the heat of the sun 
and what the universe is made of, as problems of the future, we 
refer for a moment to the political, social, and religious questions 
discussed by Mr. Laing ; for these are problems of the present, and 
some of them are very impatient for solution. 

In his plea for Agnosticism as the true solution of the great 
religious problem, Mr. Laing makes the range of inquiry end at 
the threshold of the " Unknowable." But he has no more right to 
limit our investigations than the churches have. The human mind 
refuses to be imprisoned by the Dontknowstics who declare that 
on this point nothing can ba known, or by the Doknowstics, who 
tell us that on that same subject all is known, and that further in- 
vestigation of it is a sin. 

Mr. Laing is willing to compromise, and make things pleasant, 
by grafting grapes on thorns, and calling the curious hybrid " Ag- 
nostic Christianity." Christianity is a miraculous religion, or it is 
nothing, and it cannot be blended with Agnosticism. Christitnity 
will not be coaxed into the arrangement by the seductive contra- 
diction that ' ' Agnosticism comes in as a powerful auxiliary to those 
emotions and aspirations which constitute what is called religion." 
It is not to be wheedled into partnership, by the assurance that 
" Agnosticism is the best of all arguments against Atheism and 
Materialism." It is very friendly and patronising in Mr. Laing to 
say to the churches, ' ' May we not all shake hands in the near fu- 
ture and be Christian Agnostics " ? He will discover that the 
churches will not shake. They give the hand of religious fellow- 
ship to believers only. 

Mr. Laing does not estimate great men with wise .discrimina- 
tion, and in his Hero-worship he is rather inclined to gush and 
glorify. Desiring to make up a quartette of great men in the do- 
main of statesmanship and government, he finds them in Glad- 
stone. Bismarck, .\braham Lincoln, and Mr. Parnell. Of Mr. 

Lincoln's mental stature he has no conception, and he patronizes 
him in exasperating commonplace 

Mr. Laing's reflections on " Armed Europe " are excellent, 
and well supported by the facts of the situation. They almost 
make us despair of either disarmament or peace. Mr. Laing 
throws uprn France the responsibility for this unhappy state of 
affairs, and he supports his accusation with convincing reasons. 
He sums up "by saying, ' No general disarmament is possible, un- 
less France sets the example " As France will do nothing of the 
kind, all Europe, and especially Germany, must continue armed. 

M. M. T. 

Origin and Formation of the Hebrew Scriptures. Reciting 
when, where, under what circumstances, for what purpose 
and by whom they were written, as obtained from the writings 
of that eminent Persian nobleman and historian Nehemiah, 
who was appointed Governor of Palestine, B. C. 445. . . . 

With an appendix containing prophecy sustained in the his- 
tories of Egypt, Assyria, and Babylon ; and a review of radical 
views of the Bible. By Lorenzo Binge. Boston : Lee & 
Shepard. Chicago : A. C. McClurg & Co. 
Judging from the exhaustive and encyclopaedic title of this 
work one would expect to meet a voluminous and ponderous 
treatise. But not so. It is a small, typographically modest, and 
well-printed little volume of one hundred and thirty two pages. 

Mr. Burge's history of the origin and formation of the Hebrew 
Scriptures is, so he himself says, " until now unknown " ; his ac- 
count is taken wholly from the pages of the Bible ; and he marvels 
that it has so long escaped the eye of critical research. But as a 
matter of fact, far from being " until now unknown," the evidence 
Mr. Burge adduces in support of his theory is the common prop- 
erty of every Biblical student 

The author's position is that the most important part of the 
Old Testament was written and compiled by one pe son, and that 
that person was Nehemiah. To sustain so important an assertion 
we confess we think that more ma'.erial should have been alleged, 
the sources more critically examined, and the investigation con- 
ducted less dogmatically. Not that we care very much whether 
Nehemiah or somebody else wrote " the most important part of the 
Old Testament " — for that work will lose naneof its value, whoever 
its author. Nor do we condemn Mr. Burge's praiseworthy attitude 
with regard to his contention that the Old Testament is subject of 
criticism (though why not, then, the Ne.v?). We protest merely 
against confident assertions on insufficient grounds. jiKpK. 

Si. .Vicho/as for this month opens with a Central African story 
by "One of Stanley's Pioneer Officers," Mr. E, J. Glave 

A Volaplik magazine is published in St. Louis (314 Locust 
street). It bears the uncommon name of Cased Beviiiieiik. 

"The Begum's Daughter" is still running in the .■itiantic. 
To the April number James B. 1 hayer contributes an interesting 
article on "Trial by Jury of Things Sijpernatural." 

7 he Cosmopolitnn seems to have hit the happ)' mean of modern 
illustrated magazine work. Its articles are popular and short, and 
deal with subjects of universal interest and great variety Its 
success seems assured. 

The Current Literature Publishing Company of New York 
will issue this month a new periodical, to be called Short Stories : 
A Monthly Magazine of Select Fiction. It will cost twenty-five 
cents and contain twenty-five short stories. 

Dr. Martineau's forthcoming book, "The Seat of Aulhoiily in 
Religion" will be published almost immediately by Longmans, 
Green & Co. The work is addressed not to philosophers or 
scholars, but to educated persons interested in the results of modern 

The True Commonwealth is the name of a new sixteen page 
monthly periodical published in Washington, D. C. It is a mag- 
azine of reform, which latter means in the opinion of its editors a 
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partments of Germany — and the abolition of monopolies. 

The April Seribner's contains a beautiful frontispiece by J R. 
Weguelin and Henry Wolf, "Now Chaplets Bind" — an accom- 
paniment (o Archdeacon Wrangham's translation of Horace's 
Ode to Sestius (Bk. I, IV). This is the first of a series of illus- 
trations by the same artists for selected Odes of Horace 

Dr. Charcot writes in the April Forum upon " Hypno ism and 
Crime" ; Mr. Richard Hodgson on "Truth and Fraud in Spirit- 
ualism" ; and Dr. Lyman Abbott on "No Theology and New 
Theology." ■ The Forum in turning its attention to these a''d kin- 
dred topics has shown a deep insight into the needs of the time. 


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Devoted to the Work of Conciliating Religion ^A7•ith Science. 

No. 137. (Vol IV.— 7.) 

CHICAGO, APRIL 10, 1890 

per Year 


Christ said : "No man soweth a piece of new cloth 
on an old garment : else the new piece that filleth it 
up taketh away from the old and the rent is made 
worse. And no man putteth new wine into old bot- 
tles, else the new wine doth burst the bottles, and the 
wine is spilled and the bottles will be marred ; but 
new wine must be put into new bottles." 

What Christ's meaning was when he spoke these 
words we can hardly guess, for the context in Mat- 
thew (ix, 16, 17) as well as in Mark (ii, 21, 22) appears 
to be corrupted. Christ, as reported in these pas- 
sages, said these words in answer to the question : 
" Why do we and the Pharisees fast oft, but thy dis- 
ciples fast not?" This part of Christ's answer does 
not fit to the question. But, whatever Christ meant, 
it is certain that, if these allegories mean the renewal 
of old ideas, the rejuvenescence of a dying faith, he 
himself did pour new wine into old bottles. He did 
not reject the truths of the Old Testament, but he 
adopted them, he perfected them, he brought out 
their moral purport, and showed the spirit of their 
meaning. If the simile is to be interpreted in this 
sense, evolution is a perpetual repetition of putting 
new wine into old bottles. 

What is the progress of science but a constant re- 
modeling of our scientific conceptions and terms and 
formulas ? What is the progress of national and so- 
cial life but a constant alteration and improvement of 
old institutions and laws ? 

What enormous changes has our conception of 
God passed through ! How great they are is scarcely 
apparent to us now, at least our orthodox brethren 
are not much aware of it. It is known to the historian ; 
and we can give an idea of these changes by pointing to 
the fact that the idea of evil passed through the same 
phases. The crude anthropomorphism displayed in 
the history of the idea of the devil is fresher in our 
minds, and is better preserved in legends. 

How often have the orthodox on the one hand, 
and infidels on the other, declared that if the word 
God means anything, it means and can mean only 
some one thing. How often did the former conclude 
from such a premise that everyone who did not hold 
their opinion was an atheist, and the latter maintain 
that this conception being wrong, there was no God at 

all. How often was the conception of God changed, 
and how often had the dogmatic believer to shift his 

There is a point of strange agreement between the 
old orthodox believers and their infidel antagonists. 
Believers, as a rule, declare that religion means noth- 
ing, unless it means the worship of a supernatural 
divine personality ; and atheists, accepting the latter 
definition of religion, conclude that religion, there- 
fore, should be rejected as a superstition. 

This agreement between believers and infidels is 
at first startling. In my childhood I sided with the 
former, in my youth with the latter ; but, when I be- 
came a man, I freed myself from the narrowness of 
both. I now know that some errors they have in 

Opponents have always something in common, 
else they could not be antagonistic to one another. 
Thus the orthodox believer and the infidel disbeliever 
stand upon the same ground, and this ground is their 
common error. The infidel speaker on the platform, 
appears to me, in principle as well as in method, like 
an inverted orthodox clergyman. He agrees with his 
adversaries in the principle — and he always falls back 
upon the dogmatic assertion — that there is no one who 
can know : no one who can solve the religious prob- 
lem, no one who can prove or disprove whether there 
is a God and an immortality of the soul or not. But 
the infidel inverts the argument of the orthodox be- 
liever. While the latter argues, "I must believe, be- 
cause I cannot know, I must have faith, because it is 
beyond the ken of human reason;" the infidel con- 
cludes, "because I cannot know, I must not believe; 
and I must reject any solution of the problems of God 
and the soul because the subject is beyond the ken of 
human reason." 

Weighing the pros and the cons of the question, I 
became convinced that both parties were one-sided, 
that, misguided by a narrow definition, both had be- 
come so ossified as to allow of no evolution to a higher 
standpoint. Therefore, I discarded all scruples about 
using the words Religion, God, and Soul in a new 
sense, which would be in conformity with science. It 
was, perhaps, a new path that I was traveling, and 
there are few that find it, but it is, nevertheless, I am 
fully convinced, the only true way that leadeth unto life. 



The adherents of the new religious conception are 
in the minority ; and there are the theists on the one 
side, and the agnostics on the other, both uniting their 
objection to a widening of ideas that have become too 
narrow for us now, both declaring that old definitions 
should not be used in a new sense. 

Strange! is it not? It seems so, but it is not. 
The agreement between believers and unbelievers is 
easily explainable from the law of inertia. The law 
of inertia holds good in the empire of thought just as 
much as in the empire of matter. 

When Lavoisier discovered that fire was a process 
of oxidation, he met with much opposition among 
his co-workers. It was plainly told him that fire, if it 
meant anything, meant a certain substance, scientifi- 
cally called phlogisticum ; the qualities of which could 
be perceived b)' our senses. This phlogisticum, it 
was maintained, possessed, among other properties, 
the strange property of a negative weight, and the 
argument seemed so evident, since all flames tend 
upwards. If fire meant a mere mode of motion, 
would not that be equivalent of denying the real 
existence of fire altogether? 

We now all know that the definition and the mean- 
ing of the words fire and heat have changed. Neither 
have the words been discarded, nor have we ceased to 
believe in the real existence of fire, since we have 
given up our wrong notion of the materiality of fire. 
On the contrary, we now know better what fire is, and 
in what consists the reality of a fiame. 

Concerning religion let us follow the example of 
Christ, and break the fetters that antiquated definitions 
impose upon us. Not the letter giveth life, but the 
spirit ; and let us preserve the spirit of religious truth, 
if need be, at the sacrifice of the letter, in which the 
spirit is threatened to be choked. 

Christ's words about the new cloth, and the new 
wine, it seems to me, meant that certain religious 
institutions, that ceremonies and forms will wear 
out like old garments, and like old bottles. Anti- 
quated institutions, which have lost their sense, should 
not be preserved. For instance, the sacrifices of 
lambs and goats, which were offered by the Jews, as 
well as by the Greeks and the Romans, were aban- 
doned in Christianity : they had lost their meaning, 
and Christ's religion would have been an old garment 
with a new piece of cloth on it, if the old cult had 
been preserved. Indeed, even the Jews are so much 
imbued with the new spirit that they have given up 
their sacrifices forever. 

It will be the same with the new religion that is 
now dawning upon mankind. Some of the old cere- 
monies have lost their meaning, they will have to be 
dropped. But the whole purport of religion, the 
ideal of religion and its mission will not be gone. 

Man will always want a guide in life, a moral teacher 
and instructor. Man must not allow himself to drift 
about on the ocean of life, he must have something to 
regulate his conduct. Who shall do that? Shall man 
follow his natural impulse to get as much pleasure out 
of his life as he can ? Shall he follow science ? Or 
shall he follow religion ? 

Man might follow science, if every man could be- 
come a scientist ; and in some sense, this is possible. 
We cannot, all of us, become specialists in the different 
sciences, but we can, all of us, to some extent become 
specialists in ethics. What is religion but a popularized 
system of ethics ? And this religion of ethics will be 
the religion of the future. All of us who aspire after 
progress, work for the realization of this religion. 

Let the religion of the future be a religion of science, 
let religion not be in conflict with science, but let the 
science of moral conduct be so popularized that the 
simplest mind can obey its behests, not only because 
he knows that disobedience will ruin him, but also be- 
cause he has learned to appreciate the moral com- 
mands, so as to love them, and follow them because 
he loves them. 



This is the designation I wish to give to my theory 
of the origin of language. Two other designations, 
the Sympathy Theory, and the Causality Theory, 
may, perhaps, also be suitable ; but they are in- 
complete, for they only embrace certain single parts 
of the entire organic analysis with which we have to 
deal. The Logos Theory, on the contrary, fixes the 
true centre of gravity of the question at a point where 
it must be sought for — in the origin of the concept 
and in the union of the various contrary things that 
had to meet and organically combine together, in or- 
der that human speech and thought — that greatest of 
miracles, and pride of creation — might arise and be de- 
veloped. The Mimetic and Interjectional theories of 
language are explanations of thought that can be to 
the taste of such people only as do not think. 

I shall set out, in the present disquisition, from a 
comparison of language with poetry. 

Poetry, even at the present day, is virtually a cre- 
ation of language, that is, a creation of concepts. And, 
so, too, all primitive creation of language was poetry 
— lofty, ideal poetry. When, amidst the discordant, 
noisy, many-voiced choir of utterances indicative of 
will and sensation, there was heard, for the first time 
on earth, a sound that conveyed a clear, intelligible 
sense, an objective meaning, that sound signalized a 
moment replete with sublimest poetry — for then dawned 
the sixth day of the creation of the world. 

Examining the method of poetical utterance we find 



that external acts upon external. This relation, which 
is one of cause and effect, is the fundamental rule of all 
our cognition and conception of the perceptible world. 
Everything must be referred to this principle, through it 
all must be expressed, without it no utterance is possible. 
In all the following instances, therefore, it must be tacitly 
assumed ; because, manifestly, whatever is internal 
as regards speech and thinking, actually exists only 
when it attains to expression, that is, when an exter- 
nal phenomenon is offered that strikes the senses. 
This first category, accordingly, is distinguished from 
the three following* in this, that here the purely me- 
chanical process is regarded, while the inner factor, 
the Will, apparently is not taken into account. This 
is the source of intuitive perception, the highest ex- 
cellence of all poetry. 

Says Horace: "Thou seest how mount Soracte 
stands forth, white, with a mantle of deep snow — the 
groaning branches bend beneath its weight — rivers and 
brooks, rigid with frost, are arrested in their course." 
All of which is external causality, external alteration, 
highly characteristic from its contrast to the previous 
natural state of things, when mount Soracte is clothed 
in green, when the trees spread forth their branches, 
and brooks restlessly speed along. 

The converse of the last condition is illustrated in 
the following, German and Latin, parallel form of 
statement : 

" Dijfugsre nives, redeunt jam gratnina cainpis, 

Arboribusque coinae.^^ 
■ • Vom Else be/reit sind Strom und Bdcke 
Durch des Friihlings holden beUbenden Blick,'' 
" Es lackt der Mai, 
Der IVald istfrei 
Von Rei/und EisgeMnge; 
Der Schtiee ist fort. 
Am griinen Ort 
Erschallen Lustgesange.^^ 

[The snows have flown, returned is the grass to the fields, 
And the foliage to the trees.] 

[Released from ice are brook and river 

By the quickening glance of the gracious Spring. j 

[May laughs- in joy 

For forest free 

Of frost and icy lacings ; 

The snow is gone, 

On the green sward 

Resound the joyous carols.] 

All these, again, are external changes, conceived 
as causality — the more effective and the more expres- 
sive, the stronger the contrasts that connect them. In 
this passage, however, as it ever is in poetry, the inter- 
nal, the animate, is revealed in utterances like "holden, 
helebenden Blick," " Es lachte der Mai, " Lustgesange," 
and "Vom Else befreii." Grand and sublime poet- 
ical passages frequently owe their beauty to the 
manifest disproportion between cause and effect, 

♦ The "three following categories" of the chapter of the original from 
which this extract has been taken, are omitted. They are as follows : the 
e^Qci ot external on internal j'oi internal on external : and of internal on 

wherein a trifling external cause produces some enor- 
mous effect, which brightly illuminates and sets in re- 
lief the power and might of the author and originator. 
To this class belongs pre-eminently that celebrated pas- 
sage : " And God said. Let there be light : and there 
was light." 

The simple word is here the cause. Haydn has 
musically interpreted the last word of this passage by 
an endless strain of widely diverging accords, illus 
trating the immensity of effect in contrast to the sim- 
ple motive word of command. Handel has expressed 
the opposite effect in his wonderful work Israel in 
Egypt: "And he commanded the sea. And the 
sea became dry, ",by introducing the command as over- 
powering and omnipotent, while representing the 
effect pianissimo — the sea humbly obeying. Both 
composers strove to express the same by opposite 
methods. Haydn depicts the majesty of the creator 
by the greatness of the effect ; Handel, through the 
audible diminution of the result, that nevertheless is 
conceived 2.S immense. 

Here belongs also that sublime passage in Homer, 
in which Zeus, by the mere movement of his dark 
eye brows, and by a nod of the head, causes great 
Olympus to tremble — a passage, the beauties of which 
three Roman poets have imitated : — 

Horace : Citncta supercilio inoventis. 

Virgil : Annuit et totum nutu tremefecit Olyinpicm. 

Ovid : Concussit terque qitaterque 

Ctisariem cum qua terras, mare, sidera movlt. 

Here, in order that the soul may vividly apprehend 
the overpowering might of the thunderer, a mechani- 
cal effect is throughout to be assumed, — the effect of 
external upon external, — while I certainly do not deny, 
that in the humbly obedient sea we may also assume 
an ethical effect, and, at the same time, a mythologi- 
cal manner of expression. Here is portrayed the 
living God, who has created all things, whose voice, 
therefore, is listened to with trembling and awe, and 
is forthwith obeyed by every created being. 

* * 

What the Logos is, how many contrarieties it must 
reconcile, in order to become what its name purports, 
will have been revealed from my work. Independ- 
ence, the self-dependent existence of our percepts, 
by their having assumed in the mind definite lines 
of demarcation, and by their having been placed at 
the disposal of the intellect in that they may be sum- 
moned forth at any time by the word and the gen- 
eral concept — such is the highest achievement of the 
Logos. With this performance the Logos entered into 
existence. This characterof combining and distinguish- 
ing it still preserves in all its functions, as from the 
beginning so to the present day, when infinitely com- 
plicated mental operations are performed with instinct- 


ive certainty and lightning rapiditj', so that it seems 
almost impossible to follow the paths of the individual 
threads. For the sake of greater clearness I shall at 
tempt to show, by means of the accompanying cut, 
what elements of thought of a simpler order, and like- 
wise concepts, may be contained in a single concept, 
and how through the reciprocal interaction of these 
concepts and of the percepts which they control, 
a concatenation of ideas converges in that concept, 
and likewise again radiates from it. The concept 
Bread is chosen. In our cut the concept is developed 
genetically towards the left side, and teleologically to- 
wards the right. From the left and right extremities, re- 
spectively, the concept becomes ever more special, 
that is, it takes in more definitions ; eradiating from 
the middle, it passes into ever more general concepts, 
that by reason of their more general character can be 
collectivel}' predicated of the notion Bread, or be re- 
ferred to the same. 

By an illustration of this kind it can be graphically 
shown, how ideas may represent for man the role of 
things real ; how man has acquired the power of com- 
bining in his representative faculty the most remote 
objects, and thereby has been able to accomplish the 
great miracles of human industry and commerce. But 
all this would be utterly inconceivable without con- 
cepts, which impart to percepts their unity and 
self-dependence, bring about and multiply their rational 
connection. Hence also, no animal can ever advance a 
single step heyond /resent perceptive representation, 
can never escape from the constraint with which Na- 
ture circumscribes the narrow sphere of its wants. 
Unfortunately, however, in apparent contravention of 
this rule, ants to the present day carry on a regular 
and methodical species of agriculture, keep live-stock 
and domestics like we ! Nay, they have been caught 
in conversations and social entertainments of a quarter 
of an hour's duration — Heaven save the mark ! 

The perception of causality subsisting between things .' 
Verily, this constitutes such a simple, plain, and at the 
same time, such an obvious and convincing distinction 
of the Logos, of human reason, from all animal intelli- 
gence, that it seems inconceivable how this manifest 
and clear boundary-line should not long ago have 
been noted and established as such. For this causalit}' 
to be grasped by the mind, one of the two causal mem- 

bers must at the start necessarily have existed as 
percept, as representation only, and the connection 
with the others been effected by thinking, that is through 
the concept. In "dug here" the present aspect of 
the phenomenon refers to a past activity as cause ; in 
"thing for digging" reference is made to a future 
activity as aim. In both cases ttuo representations or 
percepts must be simultaneously present — the one 
accordingly, only by representatio ; this, however, is to 
be attained only through the concept, the word. There- 
fore, man only, and the animal never, will be found in 
the possession of tools. 

The acts of cognizant man, by virtue of the per- 
cepts that illuminate consciousness, seem to be con- 
nected with one another, that is governed by an inner 
necessity. Yet who could remain blind to the truth, 
that the series of percepts connected with the will and 
arranged by close relations with regard to the same, 
must have been the most natural, the most primitive of 
all ? that practical thinking, if I may use this expression 
— that is, thinking constantly guided by interest and 
founded on the subjective basis of will — must alone and 
exclusively be placed at the beginning, as it even to-day 
certainly forms the life-material of the majority of 
men ? The emancipation of our thought from our de- 
sires and wants constitutes every advance towards 
theoretical knowledge, and it certainly follows thence, 
that originally thought was wholly coalesced with will ; 
that percepts, accordingly, in the consciousness of 
primitive men, were not arranged in any causal, genetic, 
and intellectual connection, but simply disposed in 
the order in which by reason of instinctive impulses 
and emotions they had entered into their various in- 
cidental or natural connections. The will for a long 
time remained absolute autocrat; all speech aimed at 
practical effects, sympathetical agreement, and incita- 
tion to common action. From the earliest instinctive 
utterances of will, which in the shape of sounds di- 
rectly and simultaneously uttered by a body of men 
encouraged to the primitive acts of digging, plaiting, 
etc., to the kindling eloquence of a popular orator who 
fired the souls of men with martial enthusiasm, by his 
vivid picture of desecrated graves and temples, of 
cities laid waste, of women and children dragged awa}- 
into captivity — throughout the same law unceasingly 
operates, the action of will upon will through the syni- 



patlu-tic frame of mind and its attendant percepts. 
Everywhere we find imitation, everywhere will, every- 
where activity. And for this reason my theory, which 
upon this very basis erects all else there is, has justly 
received the name of the Sympathy Theory. 

We see the active causality of our will produce 
effects, and, as it were in a dream, create forms that 
upon being taken up by the senses (passive causality), 
are converted into percepts, and then as the reflected 
activity of volition again enter our consciousness. 
This, however, is not a successive series, although it 
may appear to us as such, but actual simultaneousness, 
uriiiv, the essence of causality and reason. One of the 
most important aspects of my theory is therefore aptly 
expressed by the designation Causality Theory. 

But the most important element is still lacking — 
the free, regular, and well-arranged combination of the 
percepts, as entirely guided and irradiated by the 
light of cognition, in a word the Logos. For, notwith- 
standing all unity of causality in the cases hitherto ex- 
hibited, the percept still strongly cleaves to will, sen- 
sation, and direct-sensory intuition. To release it (the 
percept) from this bondage of coarse, empirical re- 
ality, to elevate it irrevocably into the ideal sphere in 
which with perfect mental freedom it can enter into in- 
numerable other combinations — to achieve this miracle, 
causality must emancipate itself, and become a power- 
ful and ever ready instrument of the human mind. 

Causality gained freedom only with the rise of con- 
cepts and words. The oldest words, dig, plait, bind, 
separate, have no other content than that of causal rela- 
tion — the connection of tv/o sensually perceptible per- 
cepts that constitute their causal members, the 

The causal relation contained in all concepts and 
words, that is their verbal fluidity, which has its true 
basis in the fact of its derivation from activity, taken 
together with the substantiality of the percepts them- 
selves, renders possible their union and junction with 
one another. In this manner words and concepts are 
brought together into unity in the human judgment, 
and therewith we have reached abstract thought, and 
its ultimate principle, the ' ground of cognition,' repre- 
senting the second class in the Schopenhauerian dis- 
tribution. Butalljudgments, of whatever kind they may 
be, have as their final condition merely intuitive per- 
cepts from which they proceed, to which they rede- 
scend from their abstract altitude, and with reference 
to which, perforce, they must find their application. 

The joinder of percepts with percepts, of concepts 
with concepts, of judgments with judgments consti- 
tutes, accordingly, the essential character of thought. 
But all this is Logos, and, consequently, my theory of 
language is most fittingly and properly designated the 
Locos Theory. 


The intelligence of an aggregate of people repre- 
sents by no means the sum of their intellectual ability, 
but only their average capacity ; and if we could get 
the exact measure of the understanding of crowds, we 
would find that in most cases, it does not even reach 
the average. One reason for this deficit in the intel- 
ligence of masses of people will be found in the fact 
that nobody, if seriously taken to task, cares to identify 
himself with the whole crowd. Thus many help to give 
expression to an opinion for which they do not feel a 
personal responsibility. 

Great masses of people are for several reasons ex- 
tremely suggestible. First, great masses are likely to 
be composed of many men below the average of educa- 
tion, and people who are in possession of little knowl- 
edge are easily influenced by any opinion that is 
offered with great self-assertion. A lack of knowledge 
is alwaj's accompanied with a lack of critical power. 
Thus, secondl}^ great masses are not likely to show 
much opposition to new ideas, unless a new idea directly 
and unequivocally threatens some one of their firmly 
established prejudices. Thirdly, even where great 
masses consist of learned men, of professors, doctors, 
or other people who are generally accustomed to think 
independently, it is not likely that the majority is thor- 
oughly familiar with that line of thought in which the 
speaker's argument moves. They may have been 
partly indifferent to the subject before he commences 
to speak ; or if they chanced to be interested in the sub- 
ject, they had not as yet formed an opinion of their 
own. An opinion is now presented to them ready made, 
and the simplest thing in the world is to accept that 
opinion just as it is offered. 

Schiller in one of his Xenions expresses a similar 
idea ; he says of some board of trustworthy men : 

" Every one of them, singly considered, is sensible, doubtless, 
But in a body they all act and behave like an ass." 

Large bodies are always more likely to make mis- 
takes than single individuals. Many cooks spoil the 
broth ; not only because there are too many opinions, 
but also because if they form one mass, all their 
knowledge together does not make up the sum but the 
mere average of their wisdom. 

As a means of bringing the combined intelligence 
of a number of persons to bear on a special point, 
rules of discussion have been invented which make 
it possible for every opinion to be heard before the 
association as a whole decides upon the acceptance of 
a special idea or plan of action. And this is the only 
way any meeting can be conducted in which the crit- 
ical power of the individual members is not to be 
suppressed, but the minds of all are allowed to co- 



There is a special art of suggesting ideas to large 
masses and we call it oratory. The art is very valu- 
able ; and most valuable is it in a republic. It can be 
used for good and for evil purposes. An orator may 
suggest base ideas perhaps, with the same cleverness 
as noble aspirations. 

We shall explain the different methods employed, 
for two reasons: first, to shed light upon the art of 
oratory as a method of suggestion for its practical use 
in serving honest and legitimate purposes ; and, sec- 
ondly, to guard against the tricks of impostors, who 
know how to gain the ears of an audience and lead 
their hearers astray. 

A suggester of ideas, i. e., an orator (be he teacher, 
attorney at law, preacher, or drummer — the latter has 
generally to be an orator to two ears only) must always 
speak in the language of his audience ; viz., his pupils, 
his clients or the jury, his congregation, his customer. 
He has — to use the expression of Experimental Psy- 
chology — to adapt himself to his "subject." It is 
useless to talk Greek to an audience of farmers and it 
would be absurd to speak in stilted phrases to a crowd 
of sailors. The orator must place himself on the same 
level with the intellect ot his subject ; he must find a 
common ground from which he may start; therefore it 
is advisable to introduce first ideas that are familiar. 
These first ideas being admitted as old friends, he can 
gradually introduce others. Stump orators who flourish 
and operate among the vulgar classes find it most con- 
venient to gain entrance by flattery. An honest man 
whose ideas will speak for themselves need not stoop 
to such means. A drummer whose goods are worth- 
less, commences to praise the taste of his subject and 
adds that everybody of good taste gives the preference 
to his merchandise. A wirepuller in a political cam- 
paign extols the intelligence of the American nation 
until everyone of his audience feels elated and proud 
of being so intelligent. Then he ventures one step 
further, declaring that no one but a fool can believe in 
principles such as those of the other party. 

The communication of ideas is an art. Yet the sub- 
jects to whom ideas are communicated should under- 
stand the mechanical laws of that art. Knowledge is 
a preservative, a protection against evil suggestions, 
because it affords a means to discriminate between 
good and evil. 

An excellent example of the method how under most 
difficult circumstances certain ideas can be suggested 
to a mass of people that are not willing to accept them, 
is the famous scene on the Roman forum in Shake- 
speare's Julius CcEsar. Brutus is demanded to give 
an account of the murder of Caesar, and he justifies 
himself to the general satisfaction of his audience. 
"Who is here so base," he asks, "that would be a 
bondman?" Of course, every one wants to be a free 

man, a Roman citizen. To the question "Why Brutus 
rose against Caesar?" he answers : "Not that I loved 
Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more. ... As Caesar 
loved me, I weep for him ; as he was fortunate, I re- 
joice at it; as he was valiant, I honor him; but as he 
was ambitious, I slew him." 

Brutus's oratory is natural and it is grand in its 
simpHcity. Its fallacies are believed in by himself. 
He committed a noble crime when he stabbed his 
fatherly friend ; and his speech is convincing because 
it shows the nobility of his motive. 

Mark Antony has a more difficult position ; he is 
looked upon as the defendant of an ambitious tyrant, 
and it appears as specially objectionable to say any- 
thing derogatory of such honest men as Brutus, Cas- 
sius, and the other conspirators. He therefore, de- 
clares it his intention only to perform the burial, which 
none of the proud and free Roman citizens would deny 
the meanest man in Italy. He praises the honesty of 
Brutus and the conspirators, by whose kind permis- 
sion he is allowed to speak. Here is the trick of his 
oratory, and Mark Antony is fully conscious of it. 
He does not start from a common ground ; but he 
starts from an idea strongly supported by his hearers, 
which is the v.ery same idea that he is about to give 
battle to, and to destroy. Mark Antony is open to the 
charge of equivocation. He is not honest and square 
like Brutus. He deliberately and cautiously instills 
one drop of venom after another into the souls of 
his " subjects " until they are full to the brim and cry 
for vengeance on the murderers of Caesar. It is true 
he prosecutes a crnninal, and the criminal ought to be 
punished. But his prosecution is not dictated by the 
love of justice but by the desires of a robber to de- 
prive his successful brother-robbers of their spoil. 
After having stirred the free citizens, the proud Ro- 
mans and masters of the world into a furious excite- 
ment, he says : 

" Now let it work. Mischief, tliou art afoci, 
Take thou what course thou wilt," 

This masterpiece of Shakespeare's dramatic genius 
faithfully depicts the type of crowds. The conquerors 
of the world had in Caesar's time ceased to be free men, 
they lacked the backbone of the contemporaries of 
the Scipios, of a Cincinnatus, and of a Fabricius. They 
allowed their sympathies and their votes to be turned 
by any demagogue in whatever direction he pleased, 
all the while imagining that they were free men, and 
that they acted of their own accord. If the citizens 
of a republic cease to be independent, if they are of a 
suggestible nature, they are not worth their freedom, 
and they will become the prey of unscrupulous wire- 
pullers, or their government will soon cease to be a 

There is a lesson for America 1 Our politicians 



even to-day use the basest flattery. They tell us that 
we are the greatest and most intelligent nation ; we 
are wise and independent. Having hypnotized their 
audience with such cheap and vile phrases, they instill 
their suggestions into the souls of the brave and the 
free with impunity. 

Let every American citizen be war}'. Whenever 
a stump-speaker begins to flatter, be on your guard, 
for it is almost certain that he is about to deceive you. 
Our people should do less shouting and more thinking 
in election campaigns, and every single individual who 
attends a meeting should feel himself responsible 
for the expressions of indignation or enthusiasm of 
the whole assembl}'. 

A republic needs independent citizens, quick in 
comprehension, but slow in judgment, and tenacious 
in that which they have recognized as right.' Every 
honest thinker must endeavor to counteract the sug- 
gestibility of the masses by the proper education of 
our people. 


One of the most effective methods of suggesting 
ideas, or plans, or propositions, is the employment of 
sentimental arguments. The results of a certain ac- 
tion is described, and the suggester (be he orator, or 
author, or politician, or demagogue, or preacher, or 
teacher, or a fantastic dreamer) dwells at length upon 
the details of his description, taking for granted that 
these must be the natural consequences of his scheme. 
He excites the sentiment, the sympathy, the hopes 
and fears of his "subject." And his subject whose 
critical powers are lulled asleep under the influence of 
some delightful dream, becomes an enthusiast for his 
scheme. Being anxious about the result, he forgets to 
examine whether the proposed scheme really leads to 
that result ; and if he really makes an attempt to ex- 
amine the validity and soundness' of the plan, he 
has, in the meantime, become so infatuated and intox- 
icated with the beautiful vision depicted to him, that 
he has ceased to be impartial ; he is no longer unbiased, 
and has become unable to examine the issue without a 

Sentimental arguments are dangerous, because 
they come to us like friends : they appear most inno- 
cent and harmless in sheep's clothes. The fleece of a 
sheep may hide a wolf or a real sheep, and which 
of the two would be the worse is sometimes difficult to 
tell. Ideas comparable to wolves make the man in 
whose brain they dwell, appear most dangerous, but 
those ideas that resemble the ovine species, I am in- 
clined to regard as the greatest of all evils, for the 
heads in which they live and for society also. 

A man whose opinion is founded upon sentimental 
arguments usually considers those fellow-mortals of his 

who are of a different opinion as rascals, for men who 
oppose this or that pet scheme must have, so it ap- 
pears, a different sentiment. The}' seem to stand in 
opposition to the result of the scheme, and thus they 
must be, and are often declared to be, villainous rogues. 
The fallacy of a sentimental logic is apparent to 
every clear-minded person, and we must accordingly 
be on our guard against it. Every man should make 
it a rule for his thinking, never to form an opinion 
on mere sentimental grounds. 


The most insidious method of hypnotizers is what 
we may call "suggestion by insinuation." For in- 
stance : The hypnotizer introduces his ideas by hints 
rather than by a direct communication. He puts a 
question which implies the supposition of a certain fact. 
And the unwary 'subject, ' while bothering about an 
answer, gets accustomed to the fictitious fact ; his 
imagination is set at work to depict certain details of 
the occurrence. Amid these details, worked out in his 
imagination, he forgets the main thing : namely, to in- 
vestigate whether the fact is true itself. His account 
of the event is now based upon a fact. This fact is the 
memory of his imagination. The idea of such an event 
has become by insinuation a reality in his brain, he re- 
members it plainly, and being unable to discriminate 
between the memory of a real experience and a com- 
mon report of an occurrence, he will, in best faith, 
take an oath upon the truth of his statement. 

How dangerous suggestibility by insinuation is, 
our lawyers have ample opportunity to ascertain. 
From my own experience I know of a case where, in 
a trial for alleged murder, a Polish woman presented, 
upon the questions proposed, her evidence against the 
defendant in such a way that her whole testimony be- 
came a tangle of improbable and impossible state- 
ments. It was a dream, incidentally suggested in pre- 
liminary examinations by questions which intimated 
to her how it might have been. Her vivid imagination 
made her suppositions appear to her as real happenings, 
and in court she gave her evidence on oath. 

There were questions like these. 

"What time was it ? " 

" It was half past four in the morning." 

"Did you not yesterday say it was a quarter to 
seven ?" 

"No, I did not. I said it was exactly half past 

In a preliminary examination she had said it was 
a quarter to seven, but in the meantime it had become 
manifest, that if it had been a quarter to seven all her 
testimony would be irrelevant. 

"How do you know that it was exactly half pist 
four? " 


"When I saw this man, I looked at the clock to 
see what time it was, and the clock was exactly half 
past four." 

It was not difficult to prove that from the window 
at which she was, it was impossible to see the spot where 
she fancied to have seen the man against whom she 
gave evidence. So it must have been a case of self- 

The worst insinuations are those devised from per- 
sonal malice. Some villain, for instance, writes a letter 
to a man with the intention to throw suspicion upon 
his character. The tone of the letter is friendly ; he 
writes with a pretense of kindness and frankness, yet 
among the sentences there are phrases like this : " You 
showed some anxiety about the matter and I am glad 
that I can be of service to you." Thus a statement 
is introduced together with an insinuation that the per- 
son addressed had some reason to be anxious about it. 
Whether this is true or not, the letter if read by 
others, or if perhaps later on presented in court, will 
throw suspicion upon the person addressed. 

The method of insinuation is the more surreptitious, 
the more trivial the details are that are introduced in 
connection therewith. The details may be true, while 
the fact insinuated is perhaps absolutely false. If the 
truth of the details can be proved, the insinuation is 
most likely to find credit. 

Villains who employ such means are liable to do 
great harm. There is one antidote only against the 
refined venom of such knaves, and that is independ- 
ence of judgment. A man who is able to discriminate 
between true facts that are proved, and fictitious facts 
that are insinuated; will be able to see through the 
schemes of a trickster, and take his statements for 
exactly what they are — insinuations. They are not 
proved simply by being suggested, but require to be 
proved ; and if they can be proved to be false they are 
evidences of villan\-. 

The lesson of this is that Psychology is a study too 
much neglected ; it is indispensable for every one who 
has to deal with people ; and who has not ? the physi- 
cian, the clergyman, the employer of labor, the officer 
in the army, the professor, the merchant, the banker, 
almost every one has to deal with people, and, above 
all, the lawyer. Self-knowledge is not sufficient to 
make us free, it must be self-knowledge ami the 
knowledge of other people ; it must be self-knowledge 
in the broadest sense, knowledge of the soul, of the 
motives that work upon, and can be employed to af- 
fect, man's sentiments. It is only knowledge that can 
make us free ; and knowledge will make us free. And 
because it makes us free, knowledge, and chiefly so 
psychological knowledge, is power. p. c. 



N-ATUR.\L Religion manifested itself under three 
different aspects, according as its object, or what is 
called the Divine, is discovered either in nature, or in 
man, or in the self. 

The Infinite has been discovered, not only behind 
the phenomena of nature, but likewise behind man, 
taking man as an objective realitj', and as the repre- 
sentative of all that we comprehend under the name of 
mankind. Something not merely human or something 
j-///ifrhuman, was discovered at a very early time in 
parents and ancestors, particularly after they had de- 
parted this life. This sphere of thought might be com- 
prehended under the name of anthropological re- 

The psychological sphere of religious thought was 
filled with endeavors to discover what lies hidden in 
man, considered not merely as a creature, or as a part 
of nature, but as a self-conscious subject. That self 
of which man became conscious, as different from his 
merely phenomenal or even his personal being, had 
been called by many names in the different languages 
of the'Vorld. It was called breath, spirit, ghost, soul, 
mind, genius, and many more names, which consti- 
tute a sort of psychological mytholog)', full of interest 
to the student of religion, as well as to the student of 
language and thought. It was afterwards called the 
Ego, or the person, but even these names did not sat- 
isfy man as he became more and more conscious of a 
higher self. At last the consciousness of self arose 
from out the clouds of psychological mythology, and 
became the consciousness of the Infinite or the Divine 
within us ; the individual self found itself again in the 
Divine self — not absorbed in it, but hidden in it, and 
at one with it by a half-human and half-divine sonship. 
The earliest name for the Infinite as discovered by 
man within himself, was found in the ancient Upani- 
shads. There it was called Aima, self, or the self, that 
lies behind, looking and longing for the Highest Self — 
and yet it is not far from every one of us. Socrates 
knew the same self, but he called it Daimonion, the in- 
dwelling God. The early Christian philosophers called 
it the Holy Ghost, a name which has received many 
interpretations and misinterpretations in different 
schools of theology, but which ought to become again 
what it was meant for in the beginning, the spirit 
which unites all that is holy within man with the Holy 
of Holies or the Infinite behind the veil of the Ego, or 
of the merely personal and phenomenal self. 

It must not be supposed that the three phases of 

* From a report in the London Christum 11 'ar/J, copies of which were 
kindly sent us by Prof. F. Max MilUer. 



natural religion, the physical, the anthropological, and 
the psychological, existed each by themselves, that 
one race worshipped the powers of nature only, while 
another venerated the spirits of human ancestors, and 
the third meditated on the Divine, as discovered in 
the deepest depth of the human heart. Nor did his- 
tory lend any support to the theory that physical re- 
ligion everywhere came first, and was succeeded by 
anthropological, and lastly by psychological religion. 
All that could be said was that in different countries and 
among different nations sometimes the one, sometimes 
the other phase of religion became more prominent, 
though seldom was any religion met with which did 
not contain the germs of all. 

The ancient Vedic religion was pre-eminently a 
physical religion, but to maintain, as some philoso- 
phers had done, that it contained no traces of ancestor- 
worship, shows simply an ignorance of facts. Even 
the third phase, the psychological, that in its fully 
elaborated form belongs to a later age and assumes 
the character of a philosophy rather than of a religion, 
was never entirely absent in any religion. The very 
recognition of superior beings implied some kind of 
perception of man's own being, some recognition of 
what really constituted his own self. Though these 
three roads were found, on which a belief in the 
Infinite was reached b}' different nations, running 
closely parallel, or even crossing each other, yet it was 
almost indispensable that each should be explored by 
itself. At present we shall devote ourselves to a study 
of ph}'sical religion. 

There is but one method of carrying out that ex- 
ploration — the historical. We must try to discover 
the historical vestiges of that long pilgrimage which 
the human race had performed, not once, but many 
times, in search of what lies beyond the horizon of our 
senses, in search of the Infinite, in search of a true 
religion ; and this the enquirer could only achieve by 
a careful study of all truly historical documents in which 
that pilgrimage had been recorded. There is an un- 
broken continuity in the religions, as there was in the 
languages, of the world. We know that the language 
spoken by Hume and Kant is substantially the same as 
that which was spoken by the poets of the Veda in 
India 4,000 years ago. And we see that the problem 
of causality which occupied the powerful minds of 
Hume and Kant was substantially the same as that 
which occupied the earliest framers of Aryan language 
and Aryan thought. Physical religion owes its origin 
to the categor}' of causality, or, in other words, to the 
predicating of roots expressive of agency and causality 
as applied to the phenomena of nature. 

For practical purposes it is best to study the origin 
and growth of physical religion in one country only, 
and then to turn our eyes to other countries where the 

same ideas, though under varying outward conditions, 
have found expression in mythology or religion. In 
no country do we find physical religion in its simplest 
form so completely developed as in India. Not in 
India, as it is popularly known, not in modern India, 
not in media;\al India, not even in the ancient India, 
as represented in the epic poems of the Mahabharata 
and Ramayana, least of all in the India of the Buddhists, 
whose religion, old as it was — for Buddha died 477 
B. c. — was built up on the very ruins of that religion 
which interests us at present. The pure, original, 
and intelligible religion of India is to be found in the 
Vedic period onl}', which preceded the rise of Buddhism, 
just as the religion of the Old Testament preceded 
that of the New. There and there only can we see 
physical religion in all its fulness, in all its simplicity, 
in all its necessity. Suppose we knew Christianity 
only as it appeared after the Council of Nic£ea, after 
it had become a state religion, and had once for all 
settled its dogmas and ceremonial, and then we had 
suddenly discovered a manuscript of the Gospels — the 
new insight into the true nature of Christianity would 
not have been more startling and surprising than has 
been the new light which the discovery of the Veda 
throws on the origin and growth of religion, not only 
in India, but in every part of the world. 

The discovery of the Veda laid bare the primitive 
stratum of language and thought, the very possibility 
of which had before been so keenly contested. Yet 
while a study of .the Veda was the best preparation for 
the study of physical religion, it did not claim to teach 
all that could be known about the gods of nature. If 
historians called the Veda primitive, they meant that 
it was more primitive than any other literary work they 
were acquainted with, and that it contained many 
thoughts which required no antecedents. But it would 
be the greatest mistake to imagine that everything in 
the Veda was primitive, intelligible, or without antece- 
dents. The collection of hymns which scholars chiefly 
meant when they spoke of the Veda in general, was a 
collection of various collections, and in each of them 
there were relics of different ages, mixed up together. 
They had to search carefully for what was really prim- 
ary in thought, for the later rubbish was much more 
abundant than the original gold. And yet, for all that, 
they possessed in the whole world no literary relics 
intellectually older than the oldest hymns of the Rig- 
Veda, and I doubt whether we possess any literary relics 
chronologically older, at all events in their own, the 
Aryan world. 

The Veda has become the foundation of all linguis- 
tic, mythological, and. religious studies. The accents 
of the Veda supplied our philologians with the final 
explanation of the minutest changes of vowels in 
Greek, and even in English. The names of Greek and 

■ ■ T i ■ . 



Roman gods and goddesses found their explanation in 
the common phraseology of the Vedic Rishis ; and reli- 
gion itself, which seemed to some scholars so irrational 
and unnatural a creation 'that it could have been in- 
vented by one man only, and he probably a madman,' 
assumed a character so perfectly natural and rational 
that they might boldly call it an inevitable phase in 
the growth of the human mind. 

[communicated through dyer d. lum.] 

You will be surprised, my dear Dr. Leete, to learn that I 
have severed my connection with the " Trumpet of Liberty," but 
such is the fact. Your kindness in the past, your earnest zeal in 
laboring to secure sufficient subscribers to reimburse the executive 
power for expense incurred, as well as your unfailing optimism 
even when circumstances looked dark, all alike convince me that 
I would be derelict to favors received were I not to lay before you 
the reasons which have actuated me in this final step. Nor are 
the reasons purely sentimental, though I know that if I should 
place them upon that ground I could at once command the tender 
sympathies of your generous and trusting heart. And if my pri- 
vate criticisms herein as to the wisdom of our mode of conducting 
newspapers should seem to lean toward treason, I can but simply 
throw myself upon your good nature. 

The imperative necessity of first securing enough subscribers 
to guarantee cost before permission to publish could be obtained, 
necessarily made the venture in a large degree local. To the cir- 
culars sent out the replies from a distance were, as we expected, 
not very encouraging ; the utter lack of advertising, if I may be 
permitted that antique word, prevented the fact from being widely 
known, as well as the character and scope of our work, and at the 
same time deprived us of means to collect names. In fact, my 
dear doctor, while in no wise depreciating the calm security we 
now possess of knowing that our material wants will be easily 
gratified, it still seems to me, but without indorsing Carlyle's allu- 
sion to "pig's wash," that this security of the stomach tends to 
confine our efforts within narrower circles and restrict our intel- 
lectual horizon within the boundaries of personal intercourse. 
Without means to reach unknown inquirers, our work and pro- 
gress has been largely retarded. 

But the "Trumpet," fortunately, having a goodly subscrip- 
tion list, and I being elected editor, these difficulties were sur- 
mounted, even if it prevented a material reduction in terms or in- 
crease of attractions. But here a greater difficulty arose. You re- 
member the biting sarcasms in works of a former age in which 
the clergy were assailed for being necessarily subservient to the 
pews whence arose their support. I fancy I can put myself in the 
place of a clergyman under those semi-barbarous conditions pre- 
vailing before government kindly relieved us of the care of over- 
looking our own morals. For even under our resplendent liberty, 
which I have done so much to trumpet, I have found myself con- 
tinually treading on tender corns and drawing forth indignant pro- 
tests from my constituency. Our beloved institutions have not 
fostered criticism ; on the contrary, the tendency is plainly toward 
its repression. Though our presses continually issue books, they, 
like papers, find great difficulty in reaching beyond a merely local 
market, which while heightening cost necessarily limits circula- 
tion. To write for the "pews" only, so to speak, restricts inde- 
pendence ; while independence either curtails my list of readers or 
changes its personnel, in either case depriving the paper of an 
assured and solid basis. 

To antagonize those within immedia'e reach, whom every- 

thing tends to render extremely conservative toward speculations 
relative to wider personal liberty, and without means to reach 
others at a distance to whom such thoughts might be welcome, is 
but one of the many difficulties I have encountered. Individual 
initiative having long since gone out of fashion, in the collapse of 
the ancient system of political economy, it becomes more and more 
difficult to assert it in the economy of intellect. I am aware that 
the field of journalism is regarded as exempted from the general 
rule of authoritative direction and, like the clergy, left to personal 
merit to win success ; still the universal tendency of all our institu- 
tions to militant measures and direction largely invalidates the 
theory. This tendency to centralization, which has become the 
crowning glory of our civilization, is strikingly manifest even in 
journalism, despite its theoretical exemption. 

The subscribers being, so to speak, stockholders, and persons 
whose everyday occupations and mode of living tend to disparage 
individual initiative, the first effect of anything blasphemous to 
the sacred shrine of the commonplace is the appointment of a 
committee, or board of directors, by the subscribers whose chief 
functions consist in promoting solidarity among the enrolled sub- 
scribers. Theoretically, I had become convinced that this was the 
flower of our civilization and frequently elucidated its philosophy 
at Shawmut College, but my later experience has not led me to be 
enraptured with its fragrance. Each one, in so far as individuality 
has survived, to however slight a degree, feels not only competent 
but authorized to express himself editorially ; for those most fervent 
in presenting the superiority of collective wisdom are equally con- 
vinced that they are its organs. 

When I accepted the position as editor, I believed that this 
reservation of journalism from collective control was wise, but 
what was excluded in theory reappears in practice. If you could 
but look over the articles I have received from the stockholders 
whom I represent, the " pews " to whom I preach, you might be 
tempted to change the name of the paper to the " Scrap Book," 
or face the problem of reducing material cost without increasing 
intellectual costiveness. You see my dilemma : if I insert them I 
am publishing contradictory principles, if I exclude them I am fly- 
ing in the face of our great and glorious institutions by looking 
backward to outgrown conditions, wherein some of your semi- 
barbarous forefathers were wont to prate of the inseparableness 
of personal initiative and responsibility. 

That our social system can be criticised by writers for its 
compulsory enlistment for three years to secure ample supply for 
social demand for sewer-ditchers, night scavengers, domestic ser- 
vice, etc., you would undoubtedly agree with me in regarding as 
only coming from those in whom our beneficent institutions had 
not eradicated as yet the hereditary taint of being "born tired," 
a complaint of which we read in some ancient authors. Yet, 
whatever its source, such criticisms are received, though generally 
ccncealed in allegory. Thus, recently, I had to reject a story of 
considerable literary excellence, wherein was described a fancied 
society where parity of conditions rendered free competition 
equitable, and remuneration for work was determined in open 
market by intensity and degree of repugnance overcome, thus un- 
socially offering the highest inducements to disagreeable labor. I 
saw at once the anarchistic character of the work, and promptly 
suppressed it as treasonous. 

I have also come to the conclusion, my dear Dr. Leete, that 
the newspaper is obsolete. For current gossip and small talk we 
already have abundant vehicles ; for criticism on public polity 
there is no room, even if there were need, nor would it be wise 
to tolerate it in a community where individuality is subordinated 
to general welfare and protection constitutes the genius of all in- 
stitutions. Our general news we receive officially, all alike, as it is 
given to us, and the official bulletins meet all demands that may 



arise which public safety and morality deem wisdom to publish. 
Titles of heavier treatises than the ephemeral requirements of 
newspapers may always be found in the official record of publica- 
tions distributed among our purchasing agencies, to those who 
have time to search through their voluminous bulk, and even if a 
title should prove misleading, a common misfortune for which I 
can suggest no adequate remedy, our material prosperity is so well 
assured that credit so wasted will not injure anj'one. 

Finding, therefore, that our present legally instituted scheme 
of journalism is incompatible with our social constitution, to pre- 
serve which all else must be sacrificed, in that it cannot be suc- 
cessfully conducted without individual initiative, control, and re- 
sponsibility, I gladly cease the struggle to return to my chair of 
philosophy of history at Shawmut College. My own opinion is 
that the collective direction now so simplified over production and 
exchange in material fabrics, should be logically extended to the 
production and exchange of the more subtle fabrics of the brain if 
our glorious institutions are to permanently remain on a solid and 
immovable basis. To admit anarchy in thought, and insist on 
artificial regulation of relations which are born of thought, is 
plainly illogical and dangerous to collective liberty. A social sys- 
tem once instituted must be preserved at all hazards ; to preserve 
is as essential as to create ; and this is the more evident when we 
are the creators and know the result to be to our social well-being. 

Happily, the compulsory solidarity to which civilization has 
now attained in material wealth, and the moralization of militancy 
a century ago. effected by political high-priests, already gives 
every indication of being dominant in the intellectual sphere be- 
fore the close of this newly-opened century. Having organized 
liberty, having brought the spirit of freedom down from abstract 
heights to add a local habitation to its name, by excluding individ- 
ual initiative and personal respcnsibility in economics, having sub- 
stituted the kind fraternalism of direction for the wild freedom of 
competition, let us hasten the rapidly nearing day when intellect 
will also reject these survivals of a ruder age — a day wherein we 
will reach the culminating point of our civilization, where looking 
forward will be synonymous with looking backward ! 

Yours for organized and instituted liberty. 

Julian West. 

P. S. — Edith sends love ; the baby is well. J. W. 



To the Editor of The Open Court : — 

Prof. Max Muller's article, which appeared in The Open 
Court of February 13th, cannot be suffered to pass without a few 
words of protest. 

His line of argument is hardly ingenuous. In discussing the 
question of a European or an Asiatic origin of the Aryan race, he 
selects for attack the Scandinavian hypothesis of Penka, the 
weakest of all the European theories which have been broached ; 
and when this unfortunate theory has been overwhelmed with 
easy ridicule, he seems to imagine that the European theory has 
been demolished. He does not even allude to the most probable 
Aryan cradle which has hitherto been suggested, the great central 
plain of Europe, which has secured the suffrages of such weighty 
authorities as Latham, Benfey, Spiegel, Cuno, Friederich Miiller, 
Von Loher, Lindenschmit, and Tomaschek. Nor is it fair to say 
that "Latham first started" the Scandinavian theory. Latham 
never suggested so wild a solution of the problem. He urged that 
the cradle of the Aryans should rather be sought in the former re- 
gion of Lithuanian occupancy, extending, as he thought, from the 
Baltic to the Euxine, and including a portion of the valley of the 

Danube ; an hypothesis to which Prof. Max MUlIer's objections 
do not apply. 

Again, he attacks at considerable length, an observation of 
Prof. Sayce about the birch, which was a mere verbal slip, forth- 
with corrected, but he leaves unanswered the very cogent argu- 
ment from the distribution of the beach which Prof. Sayce had 
actually in his mind, an argument which has induced so cautious 
a scholar as Dr. Schrader to abandon his former advocacy of an 
Asiatic cradle for the Aryan race. 

Although myself unable to accept Penka's Scandinavian the- 
ory, I do not think it will be very greatly damaged by some of the 
arguments with which Prof. Max Miiller assails it. " We know," 
he says, "of no traces of human life " in Sweden much before the 
date of the Persian war, i. e., about 500 B, C. Not to speak of 
the fact that skulls of the present Swedish type are found in an- 
cient graves, which go back, all through the ages of iron and of 
bronze, far into the neolithic period, it has been calculated by 
Prof. Steenstrup, the highest authority on the subject, that the 
accumulation of those vast mounds of refuse called the kitchen 
middens, which line portions of the Swedish and Danish coasts, 
must have occupied from 10,000 to 12,000 years. These mounds 
are of neolithic date, so that in any case the "traces of human 
life " in Sweden must be extended back for several thousand years 
beyond the date selected by Prof. Max Miiller. 

Weak as are Penka's arguments in favor of his Scandinavian 
hypothesis, they are, at all events, not so weak as those which Prof . 
Max Miiller brings forward in support of his own selection, the 
lofty and almost uninhabitable plateau of the Pamir, the roof of 
the world, which he believes to be one of " the highest points in 
Asia." The argument is as follows ; " Geology tells us that the 
first regions inhabitable by human beings " were the Pamir and 
the Caucasus. "No geologist would ever think of any part of 
Europe as inhabited, or inhabitable, at the same period of time as 
these two highest points of Asia." Leaving this very remarkable 
statement to be discussed by the geologists, I would venture to 
suggest that Prof. Max Miiller seems to be confusing two things 
perfectly distinct, namely, the origin of the Aryans, and the ori- 
gin of the human race. Even if he could prove that the first man 
first made his appearance on "thereof of the world," and that 
the Pamir was well peopled when the whole of Europe was, for 
some unassigned reason, uninhabitable, this very singular fact 
would have no bearing whatever on the question. For the Pro- 
fessor himself demands no more than 4,000, or at most, 7,000 
years for the origin of the Aryan race and the separation of the 
Aryan languages, a period not one-tenth of that during which, ac- 
cording to the geologists. Dr. Croll and Prof. Geike, for instance. 
Europe has been the seat of human habitation The earliest 
proofs of the existence of man upon the earth, come, not from 
Babylonia or Egypt, far less from the wild and sparsely peopled 
wastes of the Pamir, but from Western Europe, which was not 
only habitable, but actually inhabited as far back as the Phisto- 
cene age, before England had become an island by the formation 
of the Channel, and when the Somme flowed 300 feet above 
its present level, pouring its waters, mingled with those of 
the Rhine and the Thames, into some remote northern ocean. 
We also know that in France and Britain man was the contem- 
porary of the woolly rhinoceros, the mammoth, and the hippo- 
potamus. The "highest points of Asia" must have been cov- 
ered bv the ice-sheet of the last glacial epoch at the time when 
the mammoth and the reindeer formed the food of paljeolithic 
hunters in Western Europe. 

The Eguisheim skull, the Neanderthal skull, the Engis skull, 
the Canstadt skull, the Olmo skull, the Grenelle skulls, and the 
Cro-Magnon skulls, must be older by untold miileniums than the 
utmost period demanded by Prof. Max Miiller for the Aryan sep- 

2 204 


aratioQ, older also, in all probability, than the time when glaciers 
were the sole occupants of the region which, he maintains, was 
the first habitable spot on earth. 

Prof. Max Miiller also puts forward the curious theory that 
since the Indus rises in the Pamir, it "would have served as a 
guide to the South-East," thus " leading the Indo-European race 
to India." A very dangerous guide it would have been, since the 
Indus, which, as it happens, does not rise in the Pamir, but is 
separated from it by some of the loftiest mountains in the world, 
foams through the Himalaya by an unexplored and impassable 
chasm, which is believed to be some 14,000 feet in depth. Through 
this terrific gorge the Indians, with their families and their flocks, 
must have marched to the Punjab after they had separated from 
their Iranian kinsmen ! 

Prof. Max Miiller concludes by affirming that he has " always 
confined himself to the statement " that the Aryan home was 
"somewhere in Asia." I am tolerably familiar with his works, 
but I have been unable to verify this assertion. I discover it, for 
the first time, in a magazine article written only three years ago. 
In his best known work, the " Lectures on the Science of Lan- 
guage," delivered in 1861, he selected as the probable cradle of 
the Aryan race, "the highest elevation of central Asia," that 
same " highest point of Asia" to which he now returns, "the 
region drained," he now tells us, " by the feeders of the Indus, 
the Oxus, and the Yaxartes." The only important difference that 
I can see between the two statements is that he now includes the 
Indus, judiciously omitted in the Lectures, as one of the rivers 
which watered the Aryan home. 

Prof. Max Miiller hopes "we shall hear no more of Sweden 
as the cradle of the Aryas." I hope so, too; and I also venture 
to hope, though I do not expect, that we shall hear no more of 
that still more impossible cradle, the Pamir, well called " the roof 
of the world," or of any of the " highest points " in any of the 
continents. Isaac Taylor, Litt.D., L L. D. 

Settrington Rectory, York. 





'Twas here the landing ? here they pitched the tent 
Till midnight, when the fatal march began 
That yet once more, despite the nations' ban, 

Shook earth a hundred days ? and such event 

Marked like a petty road -side accident ! — 
Not thus, not thus, O giant Corsican, 
Uprose the shaft in that ambitious plan 

Which I had formed for such a monument. 

Not thus, but glittering with all the gold 

Thy glory cost the Gaul, and thy disgrace ; 
While mounting toward thine image, as of old, 

The burnished mass was fashioned to enchase 
A million skulls — thy legend briefly told ; 
And all the sea was blood about the base. 

O Tyrant, w.e are small as thou art great, 
But mid the rabble thou didst so despise 
Be some that look the gods between the eyes 

And fear not. Yea, be some that dare to rate 

* Composed before a small column bearing this inscript'on 
by the road near the spot where Napoleon landed. 

Their halo but a mask ; and when in state 
I raised thy cursed genius to the skies, 
'Twas there to strip thee of thine old disguise 

And join to endless fame eternal ha'e. 

But all was done that I had hoped to do. 

By him who reigned thine heir and blood-in-law. 
Late Prussia's high Purveyor to the Maw, 

When, with himself and mighty retinue, 

He left the lion's skin beneath her paw. 
And made Sedan a bastard Waterloo. 
Gjlfe Jouan (near Cannes, France), 1874. 


The Life of Albert R. Parsons. With a brief History of the 

Labor Movement in America. By Mrs. Lucy E, Parsons. 

Chicago : 1889. 
The Light of Persia ; or. The Death of Mammon. And other 

Poems of Prophesy, Profit, and Peace. By George P. Mclntyre. 

Chicago: 1890. The Wage Workers' Publishing Company. 

We review these books together, not because they are of equal 
interest or value, but because they are both echoes of the Labor 
cry, the new De Profundis, the passionate psalm of the workers 
appealing out of the depths of misery and degradation for more 
wages and less hours of daily toil. To understand the Labor 
question it is not enough to learn the laws of social and political 
economy ; we must also know what the laborers think and feel ; and 
this knowledge must be obtained from their own books 

There is a weird fascination about this " Life of Albert R. 
Parsons." Few stories in our literature are told with such dra- 
matic power as this. No book of 1889 will live so long as this 
vivid biography. It is a tale of chivalry so exalted, with an ending 
so tragical and pathetic, that it reads like a romance by Stevenson 
or Haggard. In all the ideal knighthood of Sir Walter Scott, there 
is not a high-born Templar or Crusader whose heroism can be 
compared to the self-devotion and chivalry of this indomitable 
puritan, who was merely a Knight of Labor without crest, coat of 
arms, or any other heraldry of barbarian aristocracy. Americans 
cannot study the character of Parsons without admiring his integ- 
rity and courage, however much they may condemn the doctrines 
for which he forfeited his life. Out of this admiration for his per- 
sonal qualities will spring the question which sooner or later must 
be answered by every American conscience. Was it necessary to 
put this man to death ? Was it wise ? Was it merciful ? Was it re- 
ligious ? Was it just ? Was it legal ? To every one of these ques- 
tions the answer must be. No. The sacrifice of Parsons was a 
political tragedy casting over the Labor question a storm-cloud, 
which grows darker and more ominous as time adds to the glamor 
of the catastrophe. 

That tke death of Parsons should become an epoch in the 
Labor movement and pass into history as a part of it, is due to the 
mad vengeance of the men who hanged him. By this blunder they. 
exalted him to the rank of a representative, not of anarchy, but of 
labor. On the morning of the execution a laborer was riding on 
the front platform of a North State Street car. Passing the jail, 
he said to the driver, " What is anarchy " ? "I don't know," was 
the answer. " I understand it means more wages and less hours of 
labor for the working man " It is easy to show that anarchy does 
not mean anything of the kind ; but by hanging Parsons, the classes 
taught the masses to give that meaning to the word. A grotesque 
horror is added to the drama by the concession that Parsons was 
entirely innocent of any knowledge of the crime for which he was 
condemned, and of all participation in it, excepting that he had 
preached the gospel of anarchy, whereby he had become indirectly, 
inferentially, psychologically, and metaphysically responsible for 



the bomb-throwing in the Haymarket. Under the circumstances, 
it is not inappropriate that the history of Parsons and the history 
of the Labor movement should be blended in one book. 

The book itself is a curious compound of articles and opinions 
contributed by different persons. Its lack of all art, method, plan, 
or unity of construction adds to its interest by variety of treatment. 
It contains a History of the Labor Movement in America, by 
Joseph Gruenhut ; a History of the Labor Movement in Chicago, 
by George A. Schilling ; an AutoBiography of Parsons ; his ad- 
ventures, travels, and speeches, Capt. Black's account of him, in- 
cidents of his trial, extracts from the pamphlet called "The Trial 
of the Judgment," an account of the Haymarket meeting. Echoes 
from the prison cell, and other matters concerning Parsons and 
bis work. The gorgeous and stately romance Ivanhoe is not more 
exciting nor so full of incident. 

Parsons was an enthusiast, cherishing the ideal of a perfect 
social system which mankind will never see until human nature 
itself shall experience the " new birth," and change its character. 
He was a man of genius, refined in manner, and possessed of rare 
poetical and oratorical powers. His eloquence was magnetic, and 
his argument clear. He could use sarcasm with fine effect, and 
in denunciation he was forcible and keen. There was no cruelty 
iri his nature, and his private life was pure. Some of his writings 
in the " Alarm " cannot be justified. They were not only incen- 
diary in the dangerous meaning of the word, but they were irra- 
tional and useless for anything but mischief. It is curious, how- 
ever, that the same sentiments and the same language were uttered 
at the same time in the National House of Representatives, by the 
Chaplain of the House, in public prayers offered in the hearing of 
Congress, and paid for out of the treasury. He was not put to 
death for his extravagant speaking, but he was re-elected to his 
office, to pray the like prayers over again. Parsons was hanged 
for preaching anarchy, but the chaplain was rewarded for praying 
it. It is a feeble excuse for either of them that they only intended 
to sound an alarm as the prophet thundered against Nineveh. 

Few braver things are found either in fact or fiction than the 
manly act of Parsons, who, out of a place of safety in Wisconsin, 
came to Chicago, and walking into the court room, quietly said to 
the judge, "I present myself for trial with my comrades, your 
honor." This magnanimity was answered by a sentence of death, 
executed with ceremonial cruelty in the state of Abraham Lincoln, 
whose immortal glory is written in the inspired words "With 
charity for all, with malice towards none " ; a sentiment harshly 
reversed in the Anarchist case where judgment was executed with 
malice towards all, with charity for none. 

As to the " Light of Persia, and other Poems," the bock bears 
the imprint of the " Wage Workers' Publishing Company," and 
therefore brings with it some apparent credentials from the labor 
element. For this reason it may receive some notice which it 
might not otherwise obtain. The book should be judged kindly, 
for, no doubt, the author means well, and wishes to see the labor- 
er's condition improved, but he contributes very little towards the 
desired result. The book consists of 220 pages, of which about one 
third is given to " The Light of Persia, and other Poems," and 
the other two thirds are the author's scrap-book, a collection of 
clippings on all manner of subjects, by all manner of men. Of 
course any man has a right to print bis scrap-book, but it would 
be more candid to call it that, than to advertise it under the at- 
tractive title of "The Light of Persia." 

Desiring to give a generous and indulgent hearing to anything 
on the working man's side, we can see very little in this book to 
be commended, and much to be condemned. Railing and scolding 
in lame and feeble verses is not poetry ; nor are the passionate ex- 
pressions of a morbid egotism worthy the attention of working men. 
It is disappointing to find that the verses called "The Light 
of Persia," are a hysterical hymn to some tremendous chemical 

explosive compound which is to regenerate mankind. Enough of 
it can be concealed in the palm of the hand to crumble the great 
pyramid of Egypt. The effect of a pinch of it thrown among a 
flock of sheep is thus tenderly described : 

.\nd had that flock be 
now in hell." 

iwer hovered o'er the flock and then it fell ; 
I Bankers, Lawyers, they had been ■ pleading ' 

A trial is going on, and the judge, jury, prisoner, lawyers, and 
spectators are all playfully blown up in the same way by this 
" limpid quintessence of light." There is nothing better or more 
enlightened in Mr. Mclntyre's poetry than the couplet quoted 
above, although there are some poems and bits of prose by other 
people in the scrap-book part of the volume which are well worth 
reading. When the doctrines of the ' ' Light of Persia " are pro- 
mulgated with ability they injure the cause of Labor, when advo- 
cated without ability, they bring it into contempt. t. 


We have cut out certain portions from the article by Ludwig 
Noire in this number, and refer those readers who wish to inform 
themselves about further details to the original work "Logos," 
Chapter xiv. We have omitted those paragraphs which intro- 
duce Schopenhauer's views of causality, first, because what N lire 
means cannot be very well understood without an acquaintance 
with Schopenhauer's dissertation on the quadruple root of the 
principle of sufficient reason ( Uber die vUrfache Wurzel des Salses 
vom zureichenden Grunde) ; and, secondly, because this pamphlet 
contains some radical errors which Ludwig Noire not only did not 
overcome but allowed himself to be influenced by. Our criticism of 
Schopenhauer may be briefly sketched thus : Schopenhauer says the 
proposition of sufficient reason has four roots, which are of radical 
difference ; and he distinguishes between the priHcipiuiit nitionis 
suffuienlis fiendi, cogitoscendi, agendi, and dssendi. It thus appears 
as if different kinds of causation could exist, which would be ab- 
surd. The causa agendi is a special kind of cajisa fiendi ; and the 
cauSiC cognoscendi as well as essendi are not causes at all but rea- 
sons. Schopenhauer was one of the boldest thinkers, yet he had 
not freed himself from the metaphysicism of former centuries. 
His "Will" is not only a natural phenomenon, such as is the will 
of man and animals, the growth of plants, the falling of stones, 
but also a supernatural phenomenon that can produce effects of 
telepathy and might create worlds. It is Kant's thing in itself 
endowed with all the attributes of mysticism. The results of Ludwig 
Noire's most important investigations, however, remain un- 

Mr. Henry C. Badger is an agnostic, and in an article pub- 
lished in The Unitarian Revie'o,he calls the editor of The Open Court 
simply because the latter is not an agnostic, " an Hegelian." In 
connection with this odd statement, he objects to "the assump- 
tion " that " whatever is known to God may be known by man," 
and continues : "Human conceit has before soared as high, but, 
its wings of wax soared toward humiliation." 

Hegelianism is characterized, in a quotation from Dr. Hedge, 
as "self-sufficiency combined with moral indifference." The pas- 
sage quoted from Dr. Hedge refers to Heine and alludes to one of 
Heine's most famous yet flippant l>on mots regarding Hegelianism 
and Heine's course of study with Hegel in Berlin. Mr. Badger is 
apparently ignorant of the source of Dr. Hedge's quotation or he 
would never have used it to characterize Hegel's philosophy. 
There is an ethical side to the forming of an opinion about a man, 
and of that Mr. Badger seems to have little conception. We are 
strongly opposed to Hegel, but he is too great a giant in the em- 
pire of philosophic thought to be dealt with so slightingly. 

Mr. Badger must know little of Hegel and still less of the 
views propounded in The Open Court. Strange that modest agnostics 
of this stamp so rarely retain their modesty for home-consump- 
tion ! Who gave them the authority to limit investigation whenever 
they happen to be benighted themselves ? Mr. Badger is leading 
Unitarianism upon slippery ground and certainly not on a road 
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Hedge's answer to the question ' ' What do Unitarians most lack ? " 
"Humility !" Mr. Badger, we judge, is a Unitarian. 

2 206 



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Beneath the ancient church of the Capucins is a 
crj'pt-cemetery, where the medieval monks were buried 
in earth brought from Jerusalem. It was for some 
time believed that the flesh of Christians would not 
decay, if buried in soil of the Holy Land, and a cem- 
etery was made of it at Pisa, in which Princes, and 
dignitaries able to pay for the privilege, were interred. 
The walls enclosing the Pisa cemetery are frescoed 
with pictures, one of which shows the graves there 
opening, at the last day, and revealing forms fresh as 
if just buried, beside the skeletons of those buried 
elsewhere. But the Capucins found their predecessors 
turned to dry bones long ago, and had the fancy to ar- 
range these bones in architectural order. They built 
up with them a series of rooms, with arched roofs, 
the partitions being entirely of bones. There are six 
or seven of these rooms. There are arched alcoves 
of bones, bordered with skulls, and with skull key- 
stones ; there are spandrels of bones ; and even floral 
traceries over the ceiling neatly made of fingers and 
toes. In one of the rooms a skeleton has been placed 
in the centre of the ceiling to represent Death, the 
scythe being made of small bones. This Death grins 
in a ghastly way over the heaps of those who have 
fallen beneath his scythe. Around each room are 
niches in which, seated or reclining, are skeletons, 
presumably of eminent monks, clad in the brown 
Capucin garb. In the half-light, which prevents the 
scene from being simply horrible, these particular fig- 
ures appear as if fallen asleep ; indeed, they might 
easil}' suggest such legends as that of the Seven 
Sleepers — a legend which, as filtered into the secular 
mind, took the shape of Barbarossa, Arthur, and 
other immortal slumberers, and, in America, was re- 
duced to ragged Rip Van Winkle. 

The whole bone-crypt is a monumental witness to 
the material character of the future life for which 
these old monks made such sacrifices. The ideal 
paradise of those who, with much cost and labor, 
brought this soil from Jerusalem, was one in which 
their flesh was to be preserved eternally, undecayed, 
and to enjoy pleasures of the flesh. What was it to 

give up pleasure for a few years, to suffer a brief life- 
time, for such payment as an eternity of pleasure? 
And as for martyrdom, that was in living so miserably, 
not in dying — which but opened the portal of the eter- 
nal palace more speedily. In fact the old crucifiers 
of the flesh naturally courted death, and even com- 
mitted suicide — nuns especially — until, in the absence 
of an}' scriptural text against suicide, the Church had 
to issue a decree against self-slaughter. 

It is, no doubt, a survival of this materialistic con- 
ception of immortality which to day impedes the 
adoption of Cremation. An English Bishop once ex- 
pressed his belief that the general practice of crema- 
tion would prove fatal to Christianity. He may be 
right. Were the masses to familiarize their senses 
with the dissipation of human forms, it would be be- 
yond their average imagination to believe that such 
bodies would be created again from dust in order to 
be punished or rewarded. It is said that Prometheus, 
who brought fire from heaven, took away human be- 
lief in immortality. He brought the fire that men 
might fuse, and forge, and refashion the world by va- 
rious arts, but he found that they would never do this 
so long as they believed that a perfect world was al- 
ready created, and could be reached by the near and 
simple means of death. 

Heine says that he once met the Devil, and said 
to him : " How is it that I have always seen you rep- 
resented as hideous ? I find you decidedl}' good- 
looking." "Ah," replied the Devil, "man lost his 
earthly paradise by me, and has always painted me 
ugly." But, if a spiritual heaven, in the presence of 
God, be happier than a terrestial paradise apart from 
that presence, Satan ought not to be vilified. Eden, 
in which was everything pleasant to the taste, and to 
the senses, was — according to the legend — given by 
Eve in exchange for divine wisdom. "Ye shall be 
as Gods," said Satan; and sure enough, after the 
fruit was eaten, the Elohim confessed, " Man has be- 
come as one of us." Death was then bestowed as a 
portal through which man might find with God a par- 
adise, not like that of the senses which knowledge 
lost him, but one worthy of a being who had become 
" as one of us " — the Elohim. That Satan, who thus 
opened to man a higher paradise, should be hated and 
blackened, suggests that, after all, it was — to some ex- 



tent still is — the sensual paradise which mainly ani- 
mates the ardor of man for a future world. 

Just above the bone-crypt, in this same old church 
of the Capucins, there is a painting by Guido, con- 
taining the ugliest known representation of him who 
is said to have brought death into the world. It is 
by Guido Reni. It is often said to be the expulsion 
of Satan from heaven, but this is a mistake. When 
Satan was expelled he was a leading angel, according 
to the legend, and his wicked works on earth had not 
begun. Guido meant to paint the millennial angel, for 
he bears a heavy chain with which the demon is to be 
bound. The most chivalrous sympathizer with " the 
under dog in a fight" could hardly feel any pity for 
this prostrate fiend. His countenance is, first of all, 
cruel ; the mouth and teeth seem made to bite. The 
complexion is that of dirty copper ; the eyes are crafty 
and hard. Those who have read Nathaniel Haw- 
thorne's beautiful romance. The Marble Faun, may 
remember that it was in this demon that he found the 
semblance of the evil being who dogged poor Miriam's 
footsteps everywhere until her lover threw him over 
the Tarpeian Rock. He proved to be aCapucin friar. 
In this wretch Hawthorne drew a figure representing 
motiveless wickedness — a creature evil for the love of 
evil ; for he does not seek Miriam's love or money, 
but merely wields a torturing power he happens to 
have over her. And it is this cold, passionless vil- 
lainy and cruelty which Guido has painted. The 
angel points his sword at the prostrate demon, but of 
course it is a sham gesture. He does not mean to 
kill him*. Satan is too useful an executioner, as a ter- 
ror, to be slain. I do not like this attitudinising angel 
for several reasons. He is larger than Satan ; he is 
armed, as Satan is not ; and has wings with which he 
could pounce on his adversary from above. It sug- 
gests a superiority of animal force. There is a copy 
of the picture which led Hawthorne to say that the 
angel was too dainty ; the sandaled feet were those 
of a celestial coxcomb, fearing that they would be 
soiled by contact with Lucifer. This he did not find 
in the original, but I did. But Hawthorne does not 
retract another criticism of his; namely, that there 
ought to be some signs of a struggle — a loosed san- 
dal, a ruffled wing. To my own mind this is the ne- 
cessity of the angel's having brought carnal weapons 
to the struggle — a larger frame and a sword. The 
daintiness and the easy victory would be appropriate 
only if the angel had dispensed with his military char- 
acter, and were representing simply the superiority 
of purity over baseness, or of good over evil. He is 
fighting the devil with the devil's own weapons, and 
it is not to be supposed that a victory of that kind is 
won so easily. 

There is a picture of a similar subject, by Sanga- 

relli, in an old church at Sorrento, of which I have 
seen no mention, but which impressed me as more true 
and beautiful than Guide's. The prostrate demon — 
also too hideous for pity — has eyes expanded with sur- 
prise ; and well they may be, for the angel that has 
subdued him is not of heroic size, but slight as a girl 
of sixteen; moreover, this small angel bears no 
weapon whatever. The foot here planted on the fiend 
is here rightly made tiny and dainty, for on the small 
shield borne on her left arm are the words Quis ut 
deus ? She stands there for the infinite strength of the 
Dove, to which her weaponless right hand points. 
The Almighty is pictured there pointing to his son, 
and the son, pointing to his wound ; but the central 
object is the Dove — type of the apparent weakness of 
innocency — whose visibly descending spirit, or breath, 
has proved too mighty for the personification of chaos, 
as, in the older legend, its brooding was for chaos 
itself. It is the picture of good subduing evil with 
good, of beauty and wisdom triumphant over darkness 
and monstrosity by their own superiority — not by iron 
or brute force of warriors. A fallacious proverb says, 
one must fight the devil with fire ; but the devil is 
sure to get the better, in the end, where the weapons 
of combat are his own. In Guido's picture, Satan 
smiles slightly, even under the angel's foot ; as if he 
knew that his conqueror, in consecrating the sword, is 
doing his — Satan's — own work. But Sangarelli is 
wiser ; his Satan is genuinely frightened ; this kind of 
power, which wields no blood-stained sword, is just 
the one force he knows not how to meet. 



No DOUBT the ruins of Carnac in Egypt look grander, 
the palaces of Nineveh are more magnificent, the 
streets and houses and temples at Pompeii are more 
imposing than a hundred volumes of Vedic literature. 
But what is it that gives life to the colossal ruins of 
Carnac, what allows us a real insight into the palaces 
of Nineveh, what imparts to the streets and houses and 
temples of Pompeii a meaning and a real human in- 
terest, if not the inscriptions on their walls and the 
rolls of papyrus and parchment which tell us of the 
thoughts of the ancient Egyptians, or Assyrians, or 
Romans? Mere monuments, mere lists of kings, mere 
names of battles, what do they teach us? But give us 
one thought, one truly human sentiment, and we feel 
at home among those ancient ruins : the Babylonian 
statues begin to live, the Egyptian mummies begin 
to speak, and "the streets of the ancient Pompeii 

* From a report in the London Christian Worlds copies of which were 
kindly sent us by Prof. F. Max MUller, 



swarm once more with senators, with philosophers, 
and the gay society of ancient Italy. Here it is 
where the discoveries in India assert their superiority 
over all other discoveries in ancient history. It is true 
we have no ancient temples or palaces in that country. 
The Indian mind had no faith in that small im- 
mortality which the kings of Egypt and Babylon valued 
so much, and strove to secure for themselves by their 
stupendous edifices. The Hindu always felt himself 
a mere stranger on earth, a sojourner in a foreign land, 
and the idea of perpetuating his name and fame for a 
few thousand years by brick and mortar, never entered 
his mind, till he had learnt it from outsiders. But if 
the Aryans in India have left us no stones, they have 
left us bread — thoughts to feed on, riddles to solve, 
lessons to learn, such as we find nowhere else. 

Here is the place to ask what this Veda really is. 
The Veda has become such a power not only in lin- 
guistic research, but in all antiquarian, religious, and 
philosophical studies, that no honest student can be 
satisfied with a vague idea of what the Veda is. It 
has been usual to speak of three or even of four Vedas ; 
namely, th.e.Rig-veJa, Yagur-veda, Sdma-veda, to which 
the Atharva-veda has been added as the fourth. Now, 
although from an Indian point of view this is perfectly 
correct, nothing can be more misleading from an his- 
torical point of view. From an historical point of view 
there is but one real Veda, the Rig-veda, and when we 
say the Rig-veda, what we mean is the Rig-veda- 
samhita only, the collection of hymns, and nothing 

The Samhita of the Rig-veda is a large collection 
of hymns, chiefly but not exclusively, of a religious 
character. This collection, as we now possess it, 
handed down in the school of the Sakalas, consists of 
1,017 hymns, while in the school of Bashkalas their 
number amounts to 1,025. If we take into account the 
length of the Vedic verses — of which there are said to 
be 10,402 — as compared with the Greek hexametre, 
the Rig-veda may be said to contain nearly as much 
as the Iliad and Odyssey together. This is all we have, 
and ever shall have, for studying that ancient period 
in the history of the Aryan race, which precedes in 
language, mythology, and religion the Homeric period, 
hitherto the most ancient period in the history of our 

According to Hindu authorities, every Veda con- 
sists of a collection of hymns, Samhitds, and prose com- 
positions, Brdhmanas. These Brahmanas are the 
earliest specimens of prose literature in India which 
we possess, and their object was to describe the elab- 
orate system of sacrifices which had grown up among 
the Brahmans, and to show how the hymns or por- 
tions of the hymns should be used at each sacrifice. 

For the performance of these sacrifices particularly 

of the great sacrifices, three distinct classes of priests 
were required. One class had to perform the manual 
work, which was very considerable, the clearing of the 
sacrificial ground, the erection of altars, the lighting 
of the fire, the preparation of the offerings, etc. They 
were called Adhvaryiis, the laboring priests, and their 
duties, mixed up with endless speculations, were de- 
scribed in the Brahmanas of the Adhvaryus. Another 
class of priests had to sing. They were called Udgdtris, 
and their respective duties were in the same way de- 
scribed in the Brahmanas of the Udgatris. A third 
class of priests had to recite certain hymns with the 
utmost correctness of articulation. They were called 
Hotris, the reciting priests, and their duties were de- 
scribed in the Brahmanas of the Hotri priests. 

Now mark the difference. The collections of Vedic 
hymns, called the Samhitas of the Yagur-veda and 
Sama-veda, are mere prayer-books for the use of the 
laboring and singing priests, and they follow the order 
of the sacrifices at which they had to be recited. For- 
tunately, no such selection was made for the reciting 
priests, but they had to know all the ancient hymns 
by heart, and learn from the Brahmanas, which verses 
had to be recited at certain sacrifices. This complete 
collection of Vedic hymns is the Rig-veda-samhita. 
It is the only historical collection of hymns. It alone 
represents the earliest period of Indian language, my- 
thology, and religion. It is to us the only true Veda. 

Between the period represented by these hymns, 
the duration of which may have been many centuries, 
and the period which gave rise to the prose works called 
Brahmanas, there is a complete break. How it came 
about we cannot tell, but it is a fact that the authors of 
the Brahmanas had completely lost the true meaning of 
the \'edic hymns. Their interpretations, or rather 
misinterpretations, of these ancient hymns are perfectly 
astounding. Their one idea is the sacrifice, which had 
assumed such proportions, and had been elaborated 
with such hair-splitting minuteness that we may well 
understand how the Brahmans had no thoughts left for 
anything else. The hymns had now become a merely 
subordinate portion of the sacrifice. The proper po- 
sition of a log of wood or of a blade of grass round the 
sacrificial fire, seemed of more consequence than the 
expressions of gratitude, the prayers for forgiveness of 
sin, the praises of the mighty deeds of the gods, con- 
tained in the hymns of their ancestors. 

It ought not to be supposed, however, that what 
we call the Brahmana period represents to us the 
whole of the intellectual, or even of the religious, life 
of India. It would be fearful to think that millions of 
people should for generations have fed on such stuff 
as we find in the Brahmanas, and on nothing else. 
All we can say is that these Brahmanas represent to us 
the only pillars left standing in a vast field of ruins, 


but that they need not have been the pillars of the 
only temples which once existed there. Besides, every 
temple presupposes a vast surrounding of busy life 
without which a priesthood would find itself stranded 
high and dry. 

Even in the hymns of the Rig-veda we find a great 
deal more than merely religious sentiments. We find 
in them traces of a busy life in all its phases, peace 
and war, study and trade. Thus we read in hymn ix. 
112 : 

' Different indeed are our desires, different the 
works of men. The carpenter looks for something 
that is broken, the leach for something that is sprained, 

the priest for one who offers oblations The 

smith with his dry sticks, with his wings of birds (in 
place of bellows), and his stones (anvil) looks day 

after day for a man who possesses gold I am a 

poet, my father is a leach, my mother works the mill ; 
with different desires, all striving for wealth, we are 
as if running after cows.' 

We find in the Veda many of the virtues and many 
of the vices of modern times. It was thought that 
gambling was a modern vice, but nothing could be 
more mistaken. The whole of the epic poetry of 
India rested on gambling. As an illustration, may be 
quoted the following verses from the Rig-veda, x. 34. 
The dice used were nuts. 

1. ' These dice that have grown in the air on the great (Vib- 
hidal<a) tree drive me wild when they roll about on the board. This 
Vibhidaka seems to me exciting like a draught of Soma that has 
grown on Mount Magavat. 

2. ' She (my wife) never troubled or chid me, she was kind 
to me and to my friends. But I, for the sake of this only beloved 
dice, have spurned my devoted wife. 

3. ' My mother-in-law hates me, my wife avoids me, the 
miserable finds no one to pity him ; nor do I see what is the use of 
a gambler, as little as of an old horse oifered for sale. 

4. ' Others pet his wife, while his war-horse, the dice, thirsts 
for booty. Father, mother, and brothers say of him, "We do 
not know him, lead him away bound." 

5. ' And when I think I shall not play with them again, then 
I am left by my friends, who run away. But when the brown dice 
are thrown down and utter speech, then I rush to their rendezvous 
like a love-sick maiden. 

6. ' The gambler goes to the assembly, his body glowing ; 
asking : " Shall I win ? " Alas, the dice cross his desires, handing 
over to his opponent all that he has made. 

7. 'These dice hook, prick, undo, burn, and inflame. After 
giving childish playthings they ruin the winner ; but to the gamb- 
ler they are all covered with honey. 

8. ' Their company of fifty-three plays about, like the bright 
Savitri whose laws are never broken. They do not bend before 
the anger of the mighty, even the king bends down before them. 

9. ' They roll down, they jump up, though having no hand 
themselves they resist him who has hands. These playing coals, 
though cold, when thrown on the board, burn the heart through 
and through. 

10. ' The wife of the gambler mourns forsaken, so does the 
mother of the son gone away ; she knows not whither. In debt, 

trembling, longing for money, the gambler goes to the house of 
others by night. 

11. ' It grieves the gambler when he sees his wife, and the 
wives of others, and their well-ordered house. In the forenoon he 
has harnessed his brown horses (the dice) ; and when the fire is 
out, the wretch sinks down. 

12. ' He who is the general of your large company, the king 
of the troop, the first, to him I stretch my ten fingers to swear — 
I do not refuse my stake — I speak now the truth : 

13. '"Do not play with dice, plow thy field, enjoy what 
thou hast, consider it much. There are thy cows, O gambler ! 
there thy wife — this is what the noble Savitri has told me. 

14. ' " Make friends, O dice ! have mercy on us, do not be- 
witch us with powerful enchantment. May your wrath abate, and 
your enmity ; let some one else be held in the snare of the brown 
dice,' " 

There were three periods of Sanskrit literature, 
embracing the Mantras, Brahmanas and Siitras. If 
now we ask how we can fix the date of these three 
periods, it is quite clear that we cannot hope to fix a 
terminus a quo. Whether the Vedic hymns were com- 
posed 1,000, or 1,500, or 2,'ooo, or 3,000 years b. c, 
no power on earth will ever determine. 

The question then arises, can we fix a terminus ad 
quem, can we determine the date of the last Vedic pe- 
riod, that of the Sutras, and then work our way back 
to the two preceding literary periods? I believe this 
is possible. You know that the sheet-anchor of an- 
cient Indian chronology is the date of the contempo- 
rary of Alexander the Great, Sandrocottus, who is the 
Chandragupta of Indian history. This Sandrocottus, 
who died 291 b. c, was the grandfather of Asoka, 
who reigned from 259 to 222 b. c, and whose in- 
scriptions we possess engraved on rocks and pillars 
in numerous places in India. This Asoka tolerated, 
or even accepted, the religion founded by Buddha, and 
it was during his reign that the second great Buddhist 
council was held at Pataliputra. On the strength of 
the information contained in the Buddhist canon, as 
settled at the council under Asoka, we are enabled to 
place the rise of Buddhism at about 500 b. c, and the 
death of its founder at 477 b. c. These are dates as 
certain in the eyes of the general historian as we can 
ever expect to extract from the extant literature of 

Now Buddhism is not a completely new religion. 
On the contrary, it represents a reaction against some 
of the extravagant theories of the Brahmans, and in 
one sense it may be said to be a practical carrying out 
of the theories proclaimed for the first time in the 
Aranyakas and Upanishads. While the Brahmans 
allowed the members of the three upper castes to re- 
tire from the world after they had performed all the 
duties of their youth and manhood, the Buddhists 
allowed everybody to become a mendicant, whether he 
had passed this previous apprenticeship or not. Again, 
while the Brahmans reserved the right of teaching to 


themselves, Buddha, who belonged to the caste of the 
nobles, claimed that right for himself and for all who 
were 'enlightened.' 

These are the two essential points of difference be- 
tween Brahmans and Buddhists. But we can show 
that not only was Buddhism a kind of Protestantism, 
as compared with Brahmanism, but we can point out a 
number of thoughts and words the growth of which we 
can watch in the periods of Vedic literature, and which 
were taken over bodily by the Buddhists, though 
sometimes with a change of meaning. Nor must we 
forget that though Buddhism, as a religious, social, 
and philosophical system, is a reaction against Brah- 
manism, there is an unbroken continuity between the 
two. We could not understand the antagonism be- 
tween Buddhism and the ancient religion of India, un- 
less the Vedic religion had first reached that artificial and 
currupt stage in which we find it in the Brahmanas. 

Buddha himself, as represented to us in the ca- 
nonical writings of the Buddhists, shows no hostility 
to the Brahmans in general, nor does he seem to have 
been fond of arguing against Brahmanism. If the pre- 
vailing religion of India at his time had consisted of 
the simple Vedic hymns only, Buddha's position would 
become quite unintelligible. If, then, the very origin 
of the Buddhistic reform in India would be unintelli- 
gible without the latest phase of the Vedic religion, 
if Upanishads and Sutras must have existed, if the 
word Upanishad must have come to mean 'secret 
doctrine' before it could be used in the sense of secret 
and cause, and if the word Sutra must have assumed 
the general meaning of teaching, before it could have 
been applied to Buddha's sermons, we have found a 
terminus ad quern for our Vedic literature. It must 
have reached its final shape before the birth of Buddha, 
that is about 600 b. c. Before that date we must make 
room for three whole periods of literature, each pre- 
supposing the other. If, then, we place the rise of 
Buddhism between 500 and 600 b. c, and assign 200 
years to the Sutra-period and another 200 years to the 
Brahmana period, we should arrive at about 1000 b. c. 
as the date when the collection of the ten books of the 
ancient hymns might have taken place. How long a 
time it took for these hymns, some of them very 
ancient, some of them very modern in character, to 
grow up, we shall never be able to determine. Some 
scholars postulate 500, others 1000, or even 2000 
years. These are all vague guesses and cannot be 
anj'thing else. 

I should like to give you an idea of what the gen- 
eral character of the Vedic hymns is, but this is ex- 
tremely difficult, partly on account of the long period 
of time during which these hymns were composed, 
partly on account of the different families or localities 
where they were collected. 

The Vedic hymns have often been characterized 
as simple and primitive. It may be that this simple 
and primitive character of the Vedic hymns has some- 
times been exaggerated, not so much by Vedic scholars 
as by outsiders, who were led to imagine that what 
was called simple and primitive meant really what 
psychologists imagined to have been the very first 
manifestations of human thought and language. They 
thought that the Veda would give them what Adam 
said to Eve, or, as we should say now, what the first 
anthropoid ape confided to his mate, when his self- 
consciousness had been roused by discovering that he 
differed from other apes by the absence of a tail, or 
when he sighed over the premature falling off of his 
hair, which left him at last hairless and naked, as the 
first Homo sapiens. These expectations have no doubt 
been disappointed by the publication of the Rig-veda. 
But the reaction that set in has gone much too far. 
We are now told that there is nothing simple and 
primitive in the Vedic hymns. Nay, that these verses 
are no more than the fabrications of priests, who 
wished to accompany certain acts of their complicated 
sacrifices with sacred hymns. 

These charges, however, are utterly unfounded, 
and in no other literature do we find a record of the 
world's real childhood to be compared with that of 
the Veda. 

Another view of the Veda has of late been defended 
with great ingenuity by a French scholar, M. Ber- 
gaigne, a man whose death has been a serious loss to 
our studies. He held that all, or nearly all, the Vedic 
hymns were modern, artificial, and chiefly composed 
for the sake of the sacrifice. Other scholars have fol- 
lowed his lead, till at last it has almost become a new 
doctrine that everywhere in the world sacrifice pre- 
ceded sacred poetry. 

Here again we find truth and untruth mixed up 
together. That many Vedic hymns contain allusions 
to what may be called sacrificial customs, no one who 
has ever looked into the Veda can deny. Some of the 
hymns, and generally those which for other reasons 
also would be treated as comparatively late, presuppose 
what we should call a highly developed system of sac- 
rificial technicalities. The distinction, for instance, 
between a hymn and a song and a sacrificial formula, 
the distinction on which rests the division of the Veda, 
into Rig-veda, Sama-veda, and Yagur-veda, is found 
in one of. the hymns (x. 90) and there only. But 
curiously enough, this very hymn is one of those that 
occur at the end of an Anuvaka, and contains several 
other indications of its relatively modern character. 
Many similar passages, full of sacrificial technicalities, 
have been pointed out in the Rig-veda, and they cer- 
tainly show that when these passages were composed, 
the sacrifice in India had already assumed what seems 


to us a very advanced, or a very degraded and artifi- 
cial character. 

This whole question, so hotly discussed of late, 
whether sacrifice comes first or prayer, whether the 
Vedic poets waited till the ceremonial was fully de- 
veloped before they invoked the Dawn, and the Sun, 
and the Storm to bless them, or whether, on the con- 
trary, their spontaneous prayers suggested the per- 
formance of sacrificial acts, repeated at certain times 
of the day, of the month, of the year, is impossible 
to solve, because, as it seems to me, it is wrongly put. 
We nowhere hear of a mute sacrifice ; what we call 
sacrifice the ancients called simply karma, an act. 
Prayer and sacrifice may have been originally insepa- 
rable, but in human nature I should say that prayer 
always comes first, sacrifice second. 

That the idea of sacrifice did not exist at a very 
early period, we may gather from the fact that in the 
common dictionary of the Aryan nations there is no 
word for it, while Sanskrit and Zend have not only 
the same name for sacrifice, but share a great many 
words together which refer to minute technicalities of 
the ancient ceremonial. Nothing justifies us in sup- 
posing that the idea of a sacrifice, in our sense of the 
word, existed among the Aryans before they sepa- 

In spite of the preponderance which the sacrifice 
assumed in India, it is important to observe that the 
Vedic poets were strongly impressed with the feeling 
that, after all, prayer was better than sacrifice. Thus 
we read : 

Utter a powerful speech to Judra, which is sweeter than but- 
ter or honey. 

We offer to thee, O Agni, an oblation made by the heart with 
a verse, let this be thy oxen, thy bulls, and thy cows. 

I looked about in my mind, wishing for wealth, among ac- 
quaintances and kinsfolk. But there is no guardian for me but 
you, therefore did I compose this song for you. 

The gods are quite as frequently invoked in the 
hymns to hear as to eat and to drink, and hymns of 
praise are among the most precious offerings presented 
to the gods. But sacrifices also occupy a very prom- 
inent part in the Vedic hymns. Only we must distin- 
guish. When we hear of sacrifices, we cannot help 
thinking at once of sacred and solemn acts. But the 
very names and concepts of sacred and solemn are 
secondary names and concepts, and presuppose a long 
development. We must never forget that many of 
the ancient sacrifices were indeed nothing but the 
most natural acts, and that some of them are found 
with slight variations in the most distant parts of the 
world, and among people entirely unrelated and un- 
connected. A morning and evening offering, for in- 
stance, is met with among Semitic quite as much as 
among Aryan nations. It was originally the morning 

and evening meal, to which in many places, a third 
offering was added, connected with the mid-day meal. 


The simplest nervous system consists of a single 
ganglion with afferent and efferent fibres. Its action 
is represented in the adjoined diagram. The sensory 
irritation is transmitted as a primitive reflex motion 
from the skin, or the sensory organs in the 
skin .S'/, through the ganglion to the muscles, ® 

thus starting from and returning to the A 

periphery ; and we have reason to suppose / \ 

that the transmission of this nervous irrita- ^•'O Wv 
tion is accompanied in the ganglion by an extremely 
vague kind of feeling. 

A ganglion constituting the centre of so simple a 
nervous system as is for instance that of the whirl- 
worm, is called a primitive brain. 

Not much more complicated are the nervous sys- 
tems of Radiates, whose organs are arranged in a circle 
like the parts of a flower. The starfishes belong to 
this class ; they may be regarded as five worms having 
a mouth and a digestive 
organ in common. Each 
arm possesses a small 
ganglion (i) near the 
mouth. The five gang- 
ilions are interconnected 
by a ring (2) around the 
mouth ; and a nervous 
fibre passes along on the 
lower or ven t r a 1 side 
from each gang lion to 
the end of each of the 
several arms. 

Mollusk life is char- 
acterized by a strong de- 
velopment of the vege- 
tative functions. Mol- 
lusks are mere bags 



{The rays arecutotf. ) 
/. Ganglions. 

2. Connecting fibres, encircling 
the mouth and establishing a com- 
munication among the five gang- 

3. Nervous fibres running along 
lower surface t3 the ends of the rays 



containing organs of digestion, respiration, circu- 
lation, and generation. Ascidians (or pouch-creatures) 
and Conchs (or shells) have no head whatever ; they 
lead a mere vegetative life. Conchs are now regarded 
as degenerated snails.* Snails are in possession of a 
feebly developed head with eyes, tentacles, mouth, 
jaws, and a tongue. The ventral part of the body, 
the foot of the snail, is its sole organ of locomotion ; 
it consists of a contractile layer of muscular fibres. 

l. Cerebral ganglion, situated 
above the oesophagus, receiving 
nerves from the tentacles. (After 

a. Small tentacle withdrawn. 

b. Large tentacle with eyes (ocelli). 

c. Large tentacle withdrawn. 

d. Small I 
/ Ne 

t. Ce 

e fibre of large tentacle, 
e fibre of small tentacle, 
;bral ganglion situated 

nerves from tentacles. 

in. Sub-oesophagean ganglion, a 
double mass, representing a pair of 
pedal and a pair of branchial 

The highest developed mollusks are the Cephalopods, 
or head-footed creatures, possessing a circle of organs 
of locomotion (we may call them arms or feet) about 
their mouth. Such creatures are the cuttle-fish, or 
Sepia, and the Nautilus. 

The most characteristic feature of the nervous sys- 
tem of Mollusks (as represented in the snail) is the 
oesophagean ring, surrounding the gullet. There are 
ganglionic knots at the upper and at the lower part of 
the ring. The upper part is a primitive brain, receiv- 
ing sensory fibres from the tentacles, etc., while the 
lower part acts as the centre of the respiratory and lo- 
comotive functions. The lower ganglion is often dif- 
ferentiated into two distinct parts, and in that case the 
oesophagean ring appears double; the anterior ring 
connecting the brain with the pedal ganglion for loco- 
motion, the posterior with the branchial ganglion for 

The nervous system of Articulates consists of a 
series of ganglions, situated below the intestinal canal 
and interconnected by a nervous fibre. In addition to 
this series of ganglions the front segment or head pos- 
sesses an oesophagean ring, similar to that of Mollusks, 
bearing at its upper part the head-ganglion or primi- 
tive brain. 

The single ganglions of Articulates, being situated 
in the various separate segments, are endowed with an 
extraordinary independence. They act not so much 
in subordination to as in co-operation with the front 
ganglion. For instance. If the head of a centipede 
be quickly cut off while the creature is in motion, the 

* See Haeckel, Natlirliche Schdp/ungs^eschichte , 8th Ed., p. 543, et seq. 


I Sandhopper. ( Tatitrtts tocusta.) Showing (on the right side) 
two separate cerebral ganglia, each about the same size as the other ganglia 
situated below it on the separate ventral chords. (After Grant.) 

B. Cymothoa. (Fish-louse.) Cerebral ganglia (on the right side) almost 
wholly absent from oesophagean ring. 

C Crab. [Palinitrus vulgaris.) The cerebral ganglia fon the right side) 
receiving the optic, tactile, and other nerves, are fused into one. The oesoph- 
agean ring elongated ; the ventral ganglion strongly developed. 


HOPPER. (After Newport.) 

A. Cerebral ganglion. 

B. Optic nen'es.' 
D. Antennal nerves. 

d. Motor nerves of mandible, from sub-oeso- 
phagean ganglion. 

e. Fibres connecting the sub-oesophagean 
with the first thoracic ganglion. 


LEECH. (After Owen.) 

a Double supra-oeso- 
phagean ganglion con- 
nected with : 

bb nerves ending in rudi- 
mentary ocelli : 

c infra - oesophagean 
ganglion, continuous with a 
double ventral chord bear- 
ing at intervals distinct com- 
pound ganglia. 

g. Fit 


h. Commissures connecting thoracic gang- 



(From Gegenb; 
gs. Supra-cesophagean ganglion (brain). 
gi. Infra-oesophagean ganglion. 
i*r., g2, gj. Thoracic ganglions (partly fused 
o. Optic nerves. - 

After Blanchard.) 

(After 0« 

Reproduced fr 

1. Cerebral ganglion. 

2. Optic nerve. 

3. Anterior sub-cesophagean gang- 

4. Posterior sub-cesophagean gang- 

5. Digital tentacles. 

6. Nerves of exteri 

7. Commissural libr 
and 3. 

lal labial ten- 
3S between 8 

Leuret and P. Gratiolet.) 

8. Labial ganglion, 
g. Nerves of internal labial ten- 
10. Olfactive nerves. 

Infundibular nerves. 

Lingual and maxillary nerve. 

13. Motor nerves. 

14. Visceral nerves. 
Iranchial nerves. 

6. Visceral ganglions. 

TH {Sphinx igustyi). 

The first figure shows the full grown caterpillar about two days before 
changing to a chrysalis. It resembles much the nervous system of the Centipede. 
The two cerebral ganglions are small, and the ganglions in the ventral cord 
(i-io) are almost uniform. The nerves of the head iab) are weakly, those of 
the other fibres {c-71) fairly, developed. 

The middle figure represents the chrysalis of the same creature 30 days 
after the change from a caterpillar. The abdominal chords are much short- 
ened, some of its ganglia fuse. 

The third figure shows the perfected insect. 

A, Cerebral ganglion. 

B. Optic ganglion. 

Note the increased size of the cerebral ganglion and of some parts of the 
ventral cord; while some parts are concentrated or even suppressed. 
O. Respiratory nerves. 


(Todd. After Garner.) 
ta. Anterior ganglia ; being 
uated on each side of the 
)Uth, interconnected by a fibre 
sr-arching the mouth. 
/. Labial fibres. 
'>. Posterior or branchial 
nglion (double, for respira- 

i\ \' 



. Branchial nerves going to 
gills {gg.) 

. Commissures between lab- 
,nd branchial ganglia. 


The naked common garden 

snail ; one of the nudi- 

brancb mollusks.) 

A, A. Cerebral ganglia. 

B, B. Branchial ganglia. 
D. Pharyngeal ganglia. 




The skin of both creatures being transparent, tlieir inner organi; 
plainly visible. 

The Ascidian A G is firmly attached to the soil by root-like proce; 

IS if it were a plant. The adult Amphioxus howe 

a. Mouth. 

b. Porus abdominalis. 

c. Chorda dorsalis (appears only in the Lanceolate.) 

d. Intestinal canal. 

e. Ovary I ,-,.•■,- 

. ^ , .appears only in the Ascidian. 

f. Ovareanduct* 

g. Spinal cord (medulla dorsalis.) 
h. Heart. 

i. Verniiforni appendix, 
k. Gills. 

1. Cavity of the body, 
m. Muscles 

n. Testicles (the Ascidian being hermaphroditic, the 
'ith the ovary), 
o. Anus. 

p. Sexual aperture, 
q. Mature embryos of the Ascidian. 
r. Dorsal fins. 
s. Tail of the Lanceolate. 
w. Roots of the Ascidian. 

about like 


on is 

A. The egg of the Ascidian. 

B. The egg of the Lanceolate. 


2. Protoplasma of the egg. 


)■. Nucleus. 

■ -V. Nucleolus. 

A2, B2, A3, B3, etc., the successive stages in the development of the eggs. 

After a repeated division, the germ forms a globule of many cells (called 

Morula) the surface of which in one part sinks down so as to present almost 

the shape of an india-rubber ball from which the air is removed. Thus a 

gastruta is formed (A4, B4). 

df. Primitive abdomen. 

>/4. Primitive mouth. 

ii2. Entoderm, inner membrane or abdominal wall. 

/. Cavity of the germ. 


/. ectoderm, outside skin. 

As. The Larva of the Ascidian. 

Bs. The Larva of the Amphioxus. 

dr. The abdomen is closed. 

d2. The dorsal part is concave. 

dj. The ventral part is convex. 

g/. The medullar cavity (in the Amphioxus the primitive S] 

g2. The orifice of the medullar cavity, not as yet closed. 

d. Chorda dorsalis, in the Amphioxus the axis of the prin 

In the Larva of the Ascidian the chorda dorsalis forms a ta 
n off during its metamorphosis. Those .\scidians which do r 
nary, retain their tails. 



legs will mechanically continue to run on until they are 
brought to a stop by some interposed obstacle. The 
ganglions of the various segments, it appears, have 
not as yet received information respecting the loss of 
their leader. Similarly, flies, after decapitation, will 
fly about and execute all kinds of motions, like their 
uninjured companions. 

The Articulates (according to Haeckel) consist of 
three classes : (i) Annellata, or ringed worms — for 
instance, earth worms and leeches ; (2) Crustacea, or 
crust-animals — for instance, crabs and lobsters ; and 
(3) Tracheata, or wind-pipe animals, so called by 
Haeckel because they breathe through small tubes. 
The most important Tracheates are the myriapods, or 
thousand-legs, the spiders, and the insects. The ner- 
vous systems of the best known specimens of these 
three classes may be studied in the prefixed diagrams. 



Philosophy may possibly have a technical, far-away sound to 
some of us. Let me indicate briefly how ethics itself leads us to 
a consideration of its problems. Ethics, of course, deals with 
what "we ought to do. And yet when weaskTO/;a^ ought we to do — 
the most satisfactory answer I can find is we ought to develop the 
capacities of our nature, to become all we can become. -j- But the 
mind is one of the capacities of our nature ; and the mind is the 
power of thinking, of forming notions or ideas. 

Now philosophy does not differ from our ordinary notions, 
save in the fact that these notions have been rid of vagueness, in- 
accuracy, and inconsistency with one another and have been re- 
duced to some sort of intelligible system. For example, I, like 
most persons brought up amid books and without business 
experience, have had, until recently, at least, very shadowy 
notions about banking, and, particularly, about the operations on 
the Board of Trade ; I knew this and that, but I could not put 
things together and I knew almost nothing clearly. This is tanta- 
mount to saying that I did not have the philosophy of these sub- 
jects — I am not sure that I have it yet. Perhaps if some of you 
were confronted with the question, what is meant by life as dis- 
tinguished from what is not living, or what is the meaning of mat- 
ter, you would find your own ideas rather hazy and confused — and 
so would have to make a similar confession. Now a problem, 
generally speaking, is any subject about which our ideas are in a 
disorderly condition, and yet in relation to which, we want to have 
clear and systematic ideas. Philosophy is thus always related to 
problems, — it is indeed nothing but the attempt to clear them up 
or the finished result of the attempt. Our ideas, as a rule, are not 
naturally clear and consistent — we have to make them so ; phi- 
losophy means effort — it involves discontent with our existing 
mental stock-in-trade and the will to turn it over and see how much 
is sound and how much is rubbish in it ; our ideas thus criticized, 
purified, which stand out luminously clear and make a harmonious 
whole — that is our philosophy as related to any subject. 

The trouble with most of us is that while we clear up some 
of our ideas, to a certain extent, we leave a great many in as 
nebulous a state as ever. The man on the Board of Trade must 

*The substance of an address given to the Young Men's Club of the 
Chicago Society for Ethical Culture. 

t It scarcely needs to be explained that since each has this aim, the ends 
of each must be respected by all others. 

have some clear idea of what is doing there, else he may lose 
more than he gains in buying and selling. So the banker must have 
a sound understanding of banking. But beyond our practical ne- 
cessities, we are apt to let the clarification of our ideas go. We 
have philosophy enough to serve us in getting a living, and for 
more than that we scarcely care. The ethical motive urges our 
thought to take a wider range. The full development of the mind 
implies the clarification of its ideas in every realm ; not only 
should each set of ideas be clear and coherent in itself, but any 
one set should harmonize with any other set, so that all together 
they should make up a clear and consistent view of the universe. A 
subordinate official in some business house might do what he was 
told to do ; but he would not iindersland vi\i3t he was doing save as 
he knew its relation to the business as a whole. So each single 
business-house, or line of business, is a part of the larger busi- 
ness-world, and cannot really be understood save as its relations to 
the larger whole are grasped. The business world itself is a part 
of the greater world of man — it is simply one sphere of human ac- 
tivity ; and that it may be really understood, its plan must be seen 
and its purpose grasped in relation to the ends of human existence 
as a whole. Yes, man himself is but a part, and the most difficult 
problem is, what is his relation to that totality we call nature, or 
the universe ? So, while there may be, properly speaking, a phi- 
losophy of banking, a philosophy of business, a philosophy of 
man, and a philosophy of the universe — it is this last philosophy 
which is more eminently philosophy, not only because it is the 
most comprehensive set of ideas, but because we cannot tell 
whether any subordinate set is really valid until we have compared 
it with other sets and found that it could be harmonized with 
them, i. e., until we have found that all together they make up a 
consistent system of the universe itself. Hence philosophy, in 
the higher and stricter sense, (and. it must be added, in the sense, 
to a great degree, customary), relates to the most abstract and 
comprehensive and fundamental conceptions ; and the problems of 
philosophy are such as these, What is man, what is the meaning of 
matter, what is life, what is mind, what is nature — and how can 
we bring all our ideas on these subjects into one consistent sys- 
tem ? Remember, let me say, that abstract as they may sound, 
we all have these ideas — philosophy does not invent them, it is 
simply the eff'ort to clarify them ; we say such a person is a human 
being — what do we mean by that ? we say, such an object is purely 
material — what do we mean by matter ? we say, the tree is alive, 
or it is dead, what do we mean by life ? we speak of natural and 
supernatural, what definite ideas do we attach to those words ? — 
and universe or God, those most comprehensive and ultimate of 
all conceptions, what do they signify or mean to us ? Philosophy, 
in the higher and stricter sense, is simply the effort to clear up our 
minds on these and similar "fundamental problems" (as Dr 
Carus has called them) ; it does not mean, necessarily, that we 
know, but that we want to know — that we are "lovers of wis- 
dom " ; it implies that we do not wish to go on using words with- 
out being sure what we mean by them, that we determine to wake 
up, and examine and test our thoughts, and see how far they are 
defensible. Yet, in the deeper and more fundamental work we use 
the same powers of thought, and follow the same methods, as 
in attempting to clear up our minds on any subject whatever, no 
matter how trivial, on which we are misty. If we can get clear 
ideas about any branch of business we are interested in, it is not 
beyond our power to attack the problems of what matter is, what 
life is, what mind is, and of the meaning of the universe itself. 
I have said that we should face these problems of philosophy, 
as a part of the general task which ethics gives us of developing 
the capacities of our nature ; but there is one experience in life 
which almost forces us to think — and that is death. No one can 
lose a friend, with whom he held converse from day to day, and 
who seemed as real as himself ; no one can, when the time comes. 



face the thought of his own death, without being made intensely 
curious as to what death really is. and what it involves. Yet we 
cannot possibly have clear notions on this point, without having 
clear notions of what life is, of what man is, of what matter is. 
Or rather, we may say, every one's notion of death shows what his 
other notions are — though, of course, they may be uncertain, con- 
fused, contradictory, just as one's notion of death may be. It is 
death, we may say, that makes us all philosophers — or wish to be, 
so that we may have some clear idea of what that great change 
really means. 

But there are other problems — problems not as to the real 
nature of existing things, but as to what we ought to do, how we 
should act. 'We want clear ideas in both realms. This latter realm 
we call that of ethics. In the broad sense of the word philosophy, 
we want a philosophy of ethics — i. e , a set of ideas, clear and 
mutually consistent, as to what we ought to do. Yet as philosophy 
is commonly used in the stricter sense, (as bearing on those funda- 
mental problems I have just mentioned) we may speak of ethics as 
something additional thereto ; philosophy being concerned with the 
ultimate constitution of things and ethics with rules of human 
action — or, we might equally well call the former theoretical phi- 
losophy, and the latter practical philosophy. Now ethics, or 
practical philosophy, has two divisions, according as we consider 
man as an individual or as a member of a group ; that is, there is 
personal ethics and there is social ethics. It is of social ethics that 
I am now to say a few words. 

The first problem is, of course, what is the supreme principle 
in social ethics ? From this we have to start. According as we 
have one view or another here, we shall have varying views as to 
any special problem. For example,* suppose one holds that the 
supreme aim is to advance one's interest as much as possible, 
regardless of others — then, whether the family is considered or in- 
dustrial society, or the state, the supreme rule will dictate corre- 
sponding minor rules in each of these relations ; marriage, industry, 
government will be regarded as so many means of contributing to 
one's individual interests. True, if every one has this as a su- 
preme aim, there must necessarily be more or less of a conflict 
between individuals — each one trying to make others contribute to 
his own ends ; and the result may be either a compromise of some 
sort, or, if some are stronger than the others, a victory and rule of 
the stronger — or there may be in some degree an unceasing battle. 
A different supreme principle would, of course, so far as acted on, 
bring different results and necessitate different minor rules. If one 
holds that others are entitled to equal regard with himself — if the 
supreme aim is to serve others equally with himself, then the 
family will be shaped differently, the industrial order and the 
political order will be shaped differently (so far, of course, as this 
aim rules) from what they otherwise would be. In the family, 
since according to this principle each member aims at the good of 
the rebt as well as his own good, there would be a harmony of in- 
terests instead of an antagonism — and in the industrial order and 
the state, the rule would be not to take advantage of one another, 
but for each to contribute to the common good ; so that no one 
would have a victory over others simply because he was stronger, 
nor would there be an occasion for compromise — nor could there 
be an uncea ing battle. The question is, what is the correct first 
principle ? If we take up the problems of social ethics in a phi- 
losophical spirit, we must answer this before any other question. 
It is true that the former of the two principles I have referred to 
is the one that has had most practical acceptance in the world thus 
far ; but this does not oblige us to say that it is the correct prin- 
ciple — the world may have (so far) gone wrong. As to what is the 
true principle — this is not for me to say now ; I simply point out 
the problem. 

*It is not implied that there may not be other first principles than those 
here referred to. 

And now, as to the special problems. The first is naturally 
that of the family. Here a number of questions have to be an- 
swered. First, why should there be a family at all ? — for the mere 
reproduction of the species may be carried on v,'ithout this distinct 
social institution. Persons are being constantly born into the 
world outside of what we call the family relation. In the eftrly 
ages of the world there was scarcely more faithfulness between 
the father and mother of a child than between parents in the ani- 
mal world. 'Why should there be any limitation and regulation of 
the sexual appetite at all ? Our instincts are not a sufficient an- 
swer to this question. We must justify them, if we desire a rea- 
sonable conviction on the matter — unless we take the broad ground 
that our instincts are infallible, or, at least, the only guide we 
have. But if it is granted that some kind of family institution is 
necessary, why must there be that peculiar tjtpe of the family 
with which we are acquainted to-day ? Why should not a hus- 
band have many wives, or a wife have many husbands ? Why is 
monogamy better than polygamy or polyandry ? Authorities can- 
not settle this question for us, even "sacred " authorities cannot ; 
" sacred " authorities differ — there is no other course than for us 
to find out the reasons for ourselves. 

Second, there is the problem of the industrial order. Next to 
the birth and nurture of human beings, is the question how they 
shall subsist ? There have been many industrial systems. The 
greater part of the labor of the world has often been done by 
slaves. Why was slavery wrong, or was it wrong ? We may 
have our instincts here, too ; but what reason lies behind them ? 
According to what principle do we judge slavery ? We have a 
system of industry now based upon freedom. Is it satisfactory ? 
If not, why not ? On what grounds do we call it unsatisfactory ? 
Is the trouble with the system, or with the men who compose it - 
or does the trouble exist only in our minds, because we have un- 
reasonable expectations ? It is evident that we have got to know 
just where the wrong lies (if there is anything wrong), and we 
must have some idea of what the right would be, before we can 
intelligently propose any method of curing the wrong, or take any 
real steps in the direction of what is right. But granted some- 
thing wrong does exist, there may be more than one way of set- 
ting things right. And here the different special reform schemes 
come in — the Henry George scheme, the socialistic scheme, the 
anarchistic scheme. Yet, after we have thoroughly understood 
each plan, as it is proposed by those who advocate it, the question 
remains, which one shall we adopt ourselves ? — or shall we adopt 
more than one, or shall we adopt none at all, trusting to less radi- 
cal changes to bring about the improvement we may feel is 
needed ? 

Thirdly, there is the problem of the State ? Why should 
there be a slate at all ? The state, of course, rests ultimately 
upon force ; a law is different from any proposition or measure 
voluntarily put forth or suggested, in that every one must heed it, 
whether willing or unwilling (unless, of course, it becomes a dead 
letter). Now, why should there be this restriction on individual 
liberty ? Is the law simply something that exists, and we mu;t 
submit to, under penalty of losing our property or our lives — or is 
there some reason why it should exist, and why we, as reasonable 
things, should comply with its demands ? Is there any one thing 
that the organized force of the community has the right to prohibit 
or command, with penalty for non-obedience ? And if there is 
any one thing, where is the line to be drawn as between this and 
other things ? Suppose we grant the state has the right to enforce 
respect for human life, has it the right to compel us to pay for the 
cost of making streets, or for the cost of maintaining parks or 
hospitals or schools ? If the basis of taxation for street purposes 
is the common convenience, why has not the state the right, on 
the same basis, to establish railroads, and manage them ? If it 
taxes us to support parks for the public health and every one's re- 



creation, why not to support bath-houses ? Where shall the lines 
be drawn, and on what principles shall we draw them ? It will 
not do to say we will let things be as they are ; for things are con- 
tinually changing — and moreover, we, by our ignorance and ab- 
sence of convictions, may allow them to be changed for the 
worse ; we, all of us, whether by our voices, or our failure to 
make them known, are factors in political change — and it is im- 
possible for us to escape responsibility by saying, we don't know 
or djn't care. 

There are other problems of social ethics — but these that I 
have mentioned will serve as illustrations of the nature of the field. 
It seems to me of the greatest importance that we have clear, 
well-grounded convictions on these matters. I have not, in the 
least, sought to indicate what these convictions should be, but only 
to show something of what the problems are, and something of 
the spirit in which we should approach them. 


The members of the Young Men's Club, at a recent meeting 
of which the above paper was read, are all in active business or 
employment of some kind, and have little time for intellectual pur- 
suits. Three questions were, however, proposed to them (the 
answers to be given subsequently), and it is hoped that to the first 
all will say Yes, that many will give the same answer to the second, 
and a few to the third. 

1. Will you agree to read one serious hook durmg the year — to 
be approved by the management of the club ? 

2. Will you agree to ''f/o'V sometime during the year what you 
have learned from the book ? 

3. Will you agree io present a paper sometime during the year, 
(to take not less than twenty minutes in reading), giving the results 
of your thinking on some problem of Philosophy or Social Ethics ? 

The following books or chapters were recommended, under 
the separate headings. The list nowise pretends to be complete ; 
indeed, it is felt to be very imperfect. From time to time new 
recommendations will be added. Mr. Salter (516 North Avenue, 
Chicago) will be grateful for any suggestions or criticisms that may 
be sent to him. Only books of recognized standing are desired ; 
and of these the more simple and popular and accessible are to be 
Philosophy in General. 

Mansel's Metaphysics, Appleton, 351 pages. * 

W. T. Harris's Introduction to the Study of Philosophy [really 

Harris's philosophy in brief], Appleton, 287 pages. 
Carus's Fundamental Prolileins, Open Court Publishing Co., Chi- 
cago, 258 pages. 
Spencer's First Principles, Appleton, 559 pages. 
Lotze, Outline of Metaphysics, translated by Ladd. Ginn & Co 
Kant's Critical Philosophy for English Readers, by Mahafly and 
Bernard. MacMillan. Vol I. Critique of Pure Reason, 389 
pages ; 'Vol. II. Prologomena to any Future Metaphysic, 239 
Nature of Matter. 

Huxley, single chapters. On the Physical Basis of Lite, and 
On Descartes's "Discourse," in Lay Sermons; on Bishop 
Berkeley, in Critiques and Adilresses; on Sensation and the 
Sensiferous Organs, in Science and Culture, Appleton. (no 
pages in all.) 
Herbert Spencer, Psychology, Vol. II. Part VII (pp. 305 to 503), 
The Meaning of Life. 

Huxley, on The Physical Basis of Life and Spontaneous Gener- 
ation, in Lay Sermons; on The Border Territory between the 
Animal and the Vegetable Kingdoms, and on The Hypothesis 

that Animals are Automata in Science and Culture. (136 pages 

in all.) 
Tyndall, on Scientific Materialism, The Scientific Use of the 

Imagination, Vitality, The Belfast Address, in Fragments of 

Science. Appleton. (149 pages in all.) 
Carus, on Is Nature Alive ? in Fundamental Problems . (24 pages.) 
Man's Nature. 

Darwin, Descent of Man, Appleton, 619 pages. 
Ladd, Physiological Psychology, Scribner. 
Principles OF Ethics. 

Kant, Theory of Ethics (comprising the Critique of Practical 

Reason, and other ethical writings), translated by T. K. Abbot, 

Longmans, Green & Co., N. Y., 43S pages. 
Spencer, Data of Ethics, Appleton, 288 pages. 
S. Mill, Utilitarianism. 
Gizycki. A Student's Manual of Ethical Philosophy (translated 

by S. Coit), Swan, Sonnenschein & Co., London, 304 pages. 
Sidgwick, Outlines of the History of Ethics, MacMillan & Co., 

271 pages. 
Sidgwick, The Methods of Ethics, MacMillan (3rd Edition) 503 

Lotze, Outline of Practical Philosophy, translated by Ladd, Ginn 

& Co. 
The Family. 

Spencer, Sociology, Vol. I, Part III, "The Domestic Relations," 

176 pages. 
The State. 

Spencer, Sociology, Vol. II, Part V, "Political Institutions," 

438 pages. 
John Stuart Mill, On Liberty, Osgood & Co., Boston, 223 pages. 

John Stuart Mill, Principles of Political Economy (recent edition 

in I vol., edited by Laughlin), Appleton, 628 pages. Or, 
Henry Fawcett, A Manual of Political Economy, MacMillan, 623 

Thomas Kirkup, An Inquiry Into Socialism, Longmans, Green & 

Co., 1 88 pages. 
John Rae, Contemporary Socialism, Scribner, 455 pages. 
Laurence Gronlund, The Co-operative Commonwealth, Lee & 

Shepard, or, Lovell's Library, 278 pages. 
Henry George, Progress and Pover/y. w m. s. 



This author's style is always charming ; his English pure and 
clear, yet with all emphasis conceding that, one must confess to a 
feeling of great disappointment when one lays this book down. 
He seems to have followed in the beaten track of all the logicians, 
and rhetoricians who have preceded him ; Paley, Archbishop 
Butler, and the host of moderns. He keeps on the solid ground 
according to the conditions of heel-and-toe logic until just as the 
critical point is reached, then leaps in the air whither his readers 
are asked to follow him. But just before this point is reached, a 
good deal of argumentum ad hominem lash is laid on, the excite- 
ment increases, and there you are ! 

It may be charged that there is more criticism than argument in 
this and I will therefore state a little more specifically some of my 
objections. Page sixteen, when speaking of the Suns as ' servants' of 
the little planets he appears to conclude that life and consciousness 
only exist where we have observed them. Nothing seems more in- 
credible than this. All ' organic' bodies, i.e., those which we endow 

*The Destiny of Man. 'Viewed in the Light of his Origin. By John Fisice 
Fifteenth Edition. Boston : Houghton, Mifflin, 1890. 



with life, consist mainly of carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, oxygen, 
with a little sulphur and minute traces of almost every element if 
the search for them is careful enough. Is it an accident that these 
are just the elements which bathe all objects on the earth's surface, 
and which are most easily arrived at to repair waste ? Moreover 
these are bodies whose compounds at a slightly elevated tempera- 
ture would be destroyed. At the temperature of the surface of 
the Sun they would be volatilized. But is there any good reason 
why consciousness should clothe certain few elements alone, and 
only one of the three familiar states of matter ? As consciousness 
and life are found at the earth's surface adapted to the conditions 
there, why not at the Sun's surface or in inter-stellar space ? (See 
on this subject "Speculations on Protoplasm " by the writer. 
American Naturalist, July, 1879 ) But one of the chief weaknesses 
of Mr. Fiske's argument begins bn page 30, and permeates his 
essay to the end. His contention is that when variation, with sur- 
vival it adapted to environment, began to increase the size and 
functions of the brain, then this homo was finally elected as the 
riiler of the world, and it became impossible for any other animal 
to supplant him here. In the first place he is clearly in error as to 
the fact that "zoological change " has ceased and that psychical 
(or mental) change has taken its place in man. Whatever may be 
the mental superiority of man, the change in his structure will 
follow change of the conditions of his environment just as fast as 
in the lowest and least specialized creatures. If our planet should 
perceptibly chill, the mechanism of man must be altered to sup- 
port life with less heat or he will perish ; no matter how highly 
specialized his brain is. In fact it is the universal testimony of 
the rocks that the more highly specialized the animal, the more 
quickly it succumbs to any change of its outward conditions 
The error of Dr. Fiske here is in comparing the infinitesimal time 
during which man has developed into what we know him to be, 
with the countless aeons which must pass before external condi- 
tions are sufficiently altered to put a severe strain on existing 
types. It is entirely unjustifiable to say (page 31, line 11,) that 
Darwin represents man as a permanent or indeed any kind of a 
goal toward which Evolution was striving 

The crustacean, the fish, the bird, and the mammal have each 
in its turn been such a temporary "goal." None has been a 
resting place, nor is it likely that man will be. On the same page 
we indeed "suddenly arrive at the conclusion that Man seems now 
. more clearly than ever the chief among God's creatures. Whence 
this very unceremonious introduction of Creator and creature into 
an argument professing to be evolutionary and inductive ? 

On page 32 Mr. Fiske makes most unwarranted use of what 
he is pleased to call " mastering the Darwinian theory," reaching 
a climax of undistributed middle at the close of the paragraph. 

In Chapter V, page 42, his statement of what we know of the 
correlation of physicaj forces is as wild as any utterance of the 
Rev. Jasper. We cannot know what the state of consciousness 
uinnot be the product of, any more than we know what it is the 
product of. We know nothing about it at all ; but it is more 
probable, on the doctrine of chances, to be the result of the inter- 
action of material particles in connection with which we always 
observe it, than "effluence from Godhood " (whatever that may 
be) which we have never experienced, or observed. 

It seems almost ridiculous to add that this collocation of words 
" is a view most consonant with the present state of our knowl- 
edge," or even of our ignorance. 

It is unworthy of so profound a thinker to coolly assert that 
one .generation of dumb beasts is after all very like another 
(page 52, 2d •[, ) and most highly improbable besides. He con- 
cedes that step by step from the amoeba through the myriads of 
forms of "dumb beasts" nature was approaching her goal "Man," 
yet all these generations he would have very much alike. 

I pass over the hyperbole at the close of Chapter VI as a rhe- 

torical finish like the rhymed couplets of Shakspere. It must not 
be taken too seriously. In Chapter VII and further Mr. Fiske 
continually repeats the error of natural selection confining its oper- 
ations to the surface of the cerebrum in man. It never did, and it 
probably never can or will do this. 

His view of the perfection of the eye as an optical instrument 
differs entirely from that of the specialists who are the world's 
authorities on this subject. He exclaims (page 60), " In a very 
deep sense all human science is but the increment of the power of 
the eye, and all human art is but the increment of the power of 
the hand." Consider mathematics and logic for the first ; aild 
poetry for the second. * 

The concluding phrase of Chapter IX is a dwarfing of one of 
the most magnificent of conceptions to a lame and impotent conclu- 
sion. It is very ingenious to suppose that altruism was the result 
of the tender care of their young by animals, but it is not an es- 
tablished fact. Many animals and among them certain anthro- 
poids eat their young. Still the case might be as stated in spite of 
this, but how shall we prove it ? On page 92 he points to the 
growing power of the principle of federation, and instances Eng- 
land, Switzerland, and the United States as examples of it, ex- 
plaining the ill success of French colonization by the fact that 
France 'incorporates.' But this is not the case with France's fully 
secured colonies, to wit, Algeria, which is duly represented in the 
French Chamber. It is singular in this connection that not a word 
is said of the greatest "incorporator" the world has ever seen — 
Russia, though her progress in absorbing territory exceeds that of 
any other, — indeed all other nations. 

In Chapter XIV, page 97, the operation of natural selection is 
said to have diminished in the case of Man by the operation of 
social conditions. But this operation is nothing more than a va- 
riation of Natural Selection through the wants and tastes which 
have been engendered by civilization. " Natural Selection always 
works through death " (page 97) On the contrary, it always works 
through new forms of life, and it is by no means always the case 
that the outstripped species is extirpated. It simply cedes its place 
to the more favored and continues its career with more or less pro- 
gress, retrogression, or stability according to circumstances. 

Some fishes which p'ayed so prominent a part in Devonian 
time exist to the present day. In fact every form of animal life 
which exists is closely related to one of the many stages through 
which the progenitors of Man have passed. The manly protest 
(page 102) against the detractors of the Freethinker does the author 
credit Chapter XVI, page 109, he again makes the error of spe- 
cifying what the study of molecular physics teaches us that thought 
and feeling "cannot possibly be." The study of molecular physics 
is, like all other studies of the effects of Nature's laws, an inductive 
science ; and the establishment of a general negation by an induc- 
tive science is a contradiction in terms. And now for the final 
step for which we have been impatiently waiting ; the link which 
is to bind any kind of human philosophy with a belief in a here- 
after ! On this subject the author (page lit) "has no doubt that 
men will continue in the future as in the past to cherish faith in a 
life beyond the grave." Very likely they will ; for a long time at 
east : but on what grounds ? This is what concerns us most. A 
" broad common-sense view" (i. e., his view) has to be called in. 
The remainder of this work will not bear any dispassionate analy- 
sis. "The doctrine of evolution does not allow us to take the 
Atheistic view." Why not ' It is conceded that it does not teach 
it, but neither does it teach any -other. " We have an irresistible 
belief " (page 115), "because otherwise we would be put to perma- 
nent intellectual confusion" And what then? "What we call 
death may be," etc., etc So it may, but then again it may not be. 
If this is the outcome of the essay why not stop here and confess 
that the author is an unknower (or agnostic) ? "I can see no in- 
superable obstacle in the notion that " . . " this divine spark " 



(the soul) " may have acquired sufficient concentration and steadi- 
ness " (?) "to survive the wreck of material forms and endure for- 
ever." Neither can I, provided that there is a scintilla of evidence 
for it, but is there ? In this connection it is pertinent to inquire 
what has become of the ancestors of our race who were otherwise 
human but in whom this spark had not become quite sufficiently 
"concentrated" and "steady"? It is most true (page ii8) that 
there are "many minds inaccessible to the class of considerations 
here alleged " and the trouble is that the number is continually 

March 29, 1890. 


The Signs of the Times. By M. J. Savage, Boston : Geo. H. 

Ellis & Co., 1889. 
Helps for Daily Living. By M. J. Savage, Boston : Geo. H. 

Ellis & Co., 1889. 

The Rev. Mr. Savage has dedicated the two works whose tit le 
appear above, respectively to " the increasing number in all sects 
who are coming to discern the signs of the times more and more 
clearly," and to "all those who knowing they can help but little 
are still ready to help all they can." The collection called "Signs 
of the Times," is made up of the following discourses : "Break- 
up of the Old Orthodoxy " ; " The Roman Church " ; " Liberal 
Orthodoxy " ; " Unitarianism " ; " Free Religion and Ethical Cul- 
ture " ; "Scientific Materialism"; " Ingersollism " ; "Religious 
Reaction"; "Mind Cure"; "Spiritualism"; "Break-ups that 
Mean Advance " ; and " The New City of God." They are sermons 
— homiletic in form and sentiment. And ihey possess many of 
the merits and many of the faults of that species of discourse. 
There is an indefiniteness, a perplexing hesitancy at times in the 
formulation of problems ; so much so that we are often in doubt 
what really is the exact view that the author takes. There is a 
whole-souled and frank liberalism in the treatment of every topic, 
which often, we think, leads to the acceptance of that which 
should be rejected. Mr. Savage, however, is not writing a text- 
book, nor an encyclopedia of social and religious philosophy, but 
a work that appeals chiefly to the heart and the sentiment, and, in- 
directly, to the understanding ; it is in this direction that his power 
is best, and in this that he exhibits such commendable earnestness, 
hopefulness, and faith in humanity. " Science, philosophy, liter- 
ature, poetry, painting, sculpture, music," he says, " all these 
things were once ministers and servants of the Church. They 
shall be again ; for, when humanity has grasped the idea that re- 
ligion is the grandest concern of the human brain as well as of the 
human heart, that it means the science of all life in this world and 
forevermore, then the church will organize itself round these 
magnificent ideas, and will call into its service once more all 
science, all literature, all art, all music, all poetry, and so assert 
and make good its claim to the utmost reverence and love of all 
mankind." That is his view of the new religion. And, again, in 
the ' ' New City of God " : "No one any longer believes that this 
new condition of humanity is to come by any divine interposition, 
suddenly wrought among us, from without. We all now believe 
in evolution, in human growth, in the possibility of a development 
from our present condition into something that is higher and bet- 
ter Where, then, are we to look for our ideal city ? Not in 

the heavens, but growing, by processes of natural development 
here upon the earth." That is his view of practical ethics. 

The book " Helps for Daily Living," contains many practical, 
consolatory, and enlightened suggestions for our conduct in life. 

The ' Works and Days ' of Moses : Or a Critical Dissertation on 
the first chapter of Genesis. By Sir Philip Perring, Bart. 

London : Longmans, Green cS: Co. Chicago : A. C. McClurg 

cS: Co. 

The task which Sir Philip Perring has set himself, in this 
modest little volume, is the proof that the Mosaic account of cre- 
ation is not at variance with the handiwork of God, as discover- 
able by science in the phenomenal universe. The author says 
there is a scriptural law of interpretation, which is different from 
the secular law of interpretation ; this scriptural law must alone 
be applied to books that are revealed, and the Pentateuch, the au- 
thor says, was revealed. This is the assumption ; and here lies 
the test that gives or takes from the book its value. In the exami- 
nation of that point — or rather, in the reference to it, for it is not 
examined — Sir Philip is not so strong as he is in the employment 
of his spiritual law of interpretation, in which work he displays 
much good sense and penetration. Is it a proof of the divine in- 
spiration of the Pentateuch that the Mosaic cosmogony surpasses 
all others in simplicity, consistency, tone, and wisdom ? Sir Philip 
thinks so. iinpn. 

The Law of Population. Its Consequences and its Bearing upon 
Human Conduct and Morals. By Annie Besant. Fair Play 
Publishing Co. : Valley Falls, Kansas. Price 15 and 30 cents. 
The pamphlet of Mrs. Besant has had a very large sale. The 
present American edition is printed from the thirty-fifth thousand, 
English edition. It is a clear and convincing presentation of the 
facts of over-population, the causes that lead to it, and the reme- 
dies that are to prevent it. Especially in the chapter " Its (the 
law of population's) Bearing upon Human Conduct and Morals," 
does the value of the book lie ; where Mrs. Besant proposes the 
exercise of conjugal prudence as a check upon the increase of fam- 
ilies. In the statement of certain abstract principles we are at 
variance with Mrs. Besant; as, for example, that mora'ity is "the 
greatest good of the greatest number " — a principle that even if 
philosophically unobjectionable could at best be but a criterion of 
political expediency, and not of individual conduct. But these 
questions are foreign to our present purpose. The pamphlet should 
be widely read. jiupK.. 

For March the Revue Philosophique opens with an article by 
E. de Roberty, V Evolution de la Philosophie, following which are : 
L Evolutionnisme des Idees-Forces (Part II, Les Etats de Conscience 
Comme Factetirs de I' evolution), by A. Fouillee ; and Reclierches sur 
les Mouvements chez quelques Jeunes Enfant s, by M. Alfred Binet. * 
The usual critical and exhaustive reviews close the number. 
(Alcan, 108 Boulevard Street, Germain, Paris.) 


The American Academy of Political and Social Science was 
formed in Philadelphia, December 14, 1889, for the purpose of 
promoting the Political and Social Sciences. Its chief object will 
be the development of those aspects of the Political and Social 
Sciences which are either entirely omitted from the programmes 
of other societies, or which do not at present receive the attention 
they deserve. A special effort will be made to collect and publish 
material which will be of use to students and which does not now 
reach the public in any systematic way, as, for example, the texts 
in English of the constitutions of leading foreign countries ; reg- 
ular accounts of current instruction in Political and Social topics 
at home and abroad ; descriptive bibliographies ; discussions of 
Municipal Government, etc. Any one may become a member on 
being approved by the Council and paying the Annual or Life 
Membership Fee. ($5.00, and $100 respectively.) Members are 
entitled to receive the regular publications of the Academy, sub- 
mit papers and communications, and attend and take part in all 
scientific meetings. (Address, Station B., Phila.) 

The Open Court 


Devoted to the "Work of Conciliating Religion with Science. 

No. 139. (Vol.. IV.-9.) 


J Two Dollar! 
( Single Copi( 



"The progression of variety from unity," says 
Geiger, " seems to be the great fundamental law of 
all development of nature and of mind. This law, in 
language also, leads us back to a very insignificant 
germ, to a primitive sound, which expressed the in- 
finitesimall}' limited and exclusive subject-matter that 
man then took notice of or beheld with interest, and 
out of which the whole wealth of language, nay — 
as I am unhesitatingly convinced — of all languages, 
through a series of untold millenniums, has been 
slowly unfolded." 

The great merit of L. Geiger — who unfortunately 
was too early lost to science — is that of having shown 
how human reason and language were originally con- 
tained in one and the same germ ; that, we cannot say 
that reason created language, but that the contrary is 
true, that reason was gradually matured and strength- 
ened through the instrumentality of the representa- 
tive signs of sensory perception ; that, accordingly, 
the word was beyond question the element first in 
point of time, and that more universal, more correct, 
more clear, and more conscious ideas were first at- 
tained and formed through words, and after a long 
course of development led through words to the pres- 
ent state of mature rational thought. 

The childish and anthropomorphic view, that God 
had said to Adam, "This is a dog, This is an ele- 
phant," still held the minds of men captive in the 
eighteenth century, with the single difference, that the 
philosophers of that day put. human reason in the 
place of God, and imagined that men by a kind of 
conventional agreement or pact had given names 
to things — in short, that they had invented language. 
As if an inventive act of this character did not de- 
mand aprodigious power of mind — a degree of intellect 
and wisdom that must have been infinitely greater than 
thatat present possessed by the whole human race ! 
It is a fundamental error of human thinking, that we 
are naturally predisposed to attribute conscious pur- 
pose, reflection, and knowledge, which now mainly 
guide us in our daily affairs, universally to human 
acts, and that we attempt to explain the latter bj' the 

• From Die IVelt ,i/s Ent-Mickiliing des Geistes, by Ludwig Noire. Chap. 
IX, Part III, Leipzig : Veil ,Si Comp. Translated by /">; >'. 

former. Ceres alone foresaw the stupendous results 
that were to follow the insignificant beginnings of ag- 
riculture. Copernicus did not think of the dangerous 
consequences that his new doctrine involved for Chris- 
tianity. And the historical Luther,^if he were to 
return at the present day to earth, — would break out 
in violent anger at the constantly extending emanci- 
pation of the human mind that has sprung from his 
original reformatory ideas, and at the progress of ra- 
tional thought, subversive of all positive creed. The 
result of a course of development is frequently as dif- 
ferent from its point of origination as the flowering 
plant from the seed out of which it has grown. 

herder's theory. 

The first to rise well above this anthropomorphic 
view was Herder, whose divinatory genius in so many 
other fields discerned truths that science only later de- 
monstrated by the help of accumulations of mate- 
rial, and who, even where he erred, never failed to 
cast forth the most pregnant suggestions. The fun- 
damental idea of his prize-essay Ueber den Ursprung 
der Sprache (Upon the Origin of Language), is sub- 
stantially this : " Man," says he, "supplies proof of 
reflection, when, from out of the hovering dream of 
images that flit before his senses he has the power to 
collect himself into a moment of wakefulness, to dwell 
voluntarily upon some particular image, to survey it 
in a brighter and steadier light, and to abstract from 
it certain characteristics that establish that this is this 
object and no other." This he illustrates by the fol- 
lowing example : " A man sees, for instance, a lamb. 
It passes, as an image, differently before his vision 
than it does before that of other animals. Whenever 
man is placed so that he must know a sheep, he 
is not disturbed by any instinct (as the wolf or the 
lion); the sheep stands there exactly and entirely as 
represented by his senses. White, smooth, woolly. 
His thoughtfully operating mind seeks for a charac- 
teristic. The sheep bleats. The characteristic is 
found. The inner sense is at work. The bleating — 
that which produced the strongest impression upon 
the mind, that which sprang forth and disengaged it- 
self from all other qualities accessible by sight and 
touch — that remains with the mind. The sheep, let 
us say, returns. White, smooth, woolly. Our man 


looks, touches, meditates, seeks characteristics. The 
sheep bleats ; and now he recognizes it. ' Thou art 
the Bleating One ! ' he feels inwardly; he has humanly 
recognized it, for he has distinctly recognized it ; that 
is, recognized it by, and called it by a characteristic. 
By a characteristic, a mark! And what else is this 
than an inner mark-vford, a verbal cue ? He recog- 
nized the sheep by its bleating. This was the compre- 
hended token by which the mind clearly hit upon an 
idea. What else is this than a word ? And what is 
all human language but a collection of such words ? " 

This theory Max Miiller has called the Bow-wow 
theory, and rejected it. 

It cannot be" denied that as an hypothesis of the 
origin of language there is a good deal of truth con- 
tained in Herder's statement of things. The most 
important points to be noted are, that it (i) explains 
how a visual image or percept is transformed into the 
phonetic word ; and that (2) it makes the creation of 
language first appear as attached primarily to single 
characteristic marks. 

The weak points of this view lie in the facts, (i) 
that Herder leaves the origin of the word as depend- 
ent upon the necessity of communication, entirely un- 
noticed : and it is surely to be assumed that impulse 
of feeling and the necessity of communication both 
potently influenced the origin of the first word ; and 
(2) that the so-called onomatopoetic creation of lan- 
guage, that is, the designation of things after the 
sounds they make, has not as yet been confirmed by 
any extant language. Single words, like cuckoo, and 
the like, prove nothing ; and many that appear to us 
as imitations can be traced back to other roots that 
show no imitational origin whatsoever. All the lan- 
guages we know reveal, on the contrary, an inner con- 
ceptual connection between words that denote some 
crying, sounding object, and primitive roots designat- 
ing some human activity. Herder himself, at a later 
period, gave up his theory of imitations of sound, 
and again adopted that of the revelation of language. 
His work on the "Origin of Language," however, 
still remains the earliest really philosophical work on 
the subject, and may claim the merit of having pointed 
out the true road upon which an explanation is to 
be sought. 


Another attempt at explanation is that which 
sought to derive language from interjections, and 
which Max Miiller therefore calls the Pooh-pooh the- 
ory. This also possesses a certain degree of proba- 
bility, for account is taken herein of the necessity of 
giving vent to inner emotion by sounds and ejacula- 
tions, as also of the endeavor to communicate with 
others, and above all, of the example of animals. 

whose neighing, barking, roaring, crowing might seem 
to represent a prototype — an abortive effort to acquire 
phonetic speech. But in the investigation of known 
human languages this principle, unfortunately, does 
not find any kind of confirmation ; no more so than 
does the attempt to regard the separate letters or 
sounds of a word as symbolical vehicles of its mean- 
ing — as the w in wind and ware, the lva.fluo, light, 
love, and so forth. Serious philological science re- 
gards all these attempts as failures, and at best as 
ingenious diversions. 


The theory propounded by Max Miiller* himself, 
which has been jocosely called the Ding-dong theorj', 
is even less tenable. This distinguished scholar 
thinks, that to every being was granted a peculiar 
typical sound, that in man originally there existed a 
most copious phonetic world — a real spring-time of 
speech — that tunefully responded to the impressions of 
the outside world. This is aiirneJ>etitio Jiriiicipii, and 
explains really nothing. For we are still compelled to 
ask how and when this world of sound passed into 
man, and how man came to apply it to things ; and 
we should be obliged constantly to fall back to the 
stage at which the first sound burst forth. And then 
we should be no farther ahead than before. 

Still it is quite easy to understand why so eminent 
a scholar as Max Miiller should have hit upon this sin- 
gular idea. He was probablj' led astray by his obser- 
vation of children, to whom we usually turn when in 
search of information concerning anything primitively' 
human. Now, it is true, daily experience teaches that 
there exists in children an impulse to speech, an inci- 
tation to language, and that they early strive to call 
objects by the names they have heard. And it has 
frequently been my experience that highly intelligent 
men, to whom I had propounded Geiger's theory of 
the priority of words to concepts, at once resorted to 
the following counter-argument : " But look at chil- 
dren. No sooner do they perceive things than they 
designate them by words of their own creation, which 
bear scarcely any similarity to those which have been 
taught them. What is that but an awakening of the 
instinct of speech?" This, it must be admitted, is 
true. But the genuine science of to-day is no longer 
satisfied with reasoning of this kind. It demands an 
explanation of the word ; it demands an account of 
the origin of the affair. 

The speech-instinct of the child is the repetition 
of that long line of development which we must as- 
sume proceeded from the origin of language up to the 
present day. So long as the child does not feel this 
instinct, so long as it merely contemplates, touches, 

* We shall also publish, at the close of this series of translations, some 
extracts from Max Miiller's works in criticism of Noir6. 



cries, asks for food, and so on, up to that time it rep- 
resents the period of speechless humanity, — the time 
at which human nature had not as yet separated from 
animal nature. And the fact, too, that the child even 
during this period, before it begins to form concepts, 
actuallj' evinces an interest in objects, grasps at them, 
and throws them awa}^, this fact might seem to sug- 
gest that even speechless humanity handled certain 
working-tools of its own. But the language-instinct 
is a thing ingrafted in the child during a long succes- 
sion of generations. Our scientific curiosity, how- 
ever, asks for information concerning a time shrouded 
in the deepest darkness, when the -''word was made 
flesh, and dwelt among us," when instinctive life first 
began to pass into the clear consciousness of speaking 

geiger's researches. 

To Geiger the further honor is due of having shown 
that the oldest root-words, at least as far as they can 
be traced back, express a human act, a human gesture, 
and he justly observes that this must probably have 
been that which was the most iuieresiitig to man, that 
of which he first had knowledge, which most strongly 
riveted his attention, and syinpathetically reechoed in his 
breast. The last-mentioned fact is to be particularly 
noted. In our intercourse with our fellow-beings our 
countenance gradually assumes an expression like that 
of the human counterpart before us; tears and laugh- 
ter are contagious; when we see a person in imminent 
danger of life, we ourselves anxiously go through the 
very movements which the person would have to make 
to escape from the danger he is in : the imitation of 
human action is so natural to us that we immediately 
feel and reproduce the cheerful expression of joy, the 
convulsion and depression of pain, as well as scorn 
and menace. In view of this Geiger believes that the 
first cry of language must have been an aping reflex 
of the face of another accompanied — from the fact that 
it was the result of emotion — by sound. (Here, of 
course, we would have had visual percept and speech- 
sound in one.) And he held that a sound of this 
kind, periodical!}' repeated, must have recalled to mind 
a definite perception, sensation, or visual image, and 
that thus the first word, of whose contents, of course, 
we can have no idea, might have originated. 

Be this as it may, it remains indisputable that 
everywhere in the designations of things we meet with 
human action as that which first made the object in 
question interesting. This human activity, is, of course, 
as yet entirely identical with animal activity. The 
Greek dipoo, to flay, counts among its descendants 
dipixa, skin, dopv, wood, Spij?, tree, and the English 
tree. Skin is that which is pulled off ; wood that which 
is stripped of bark ; and so tree. This same law, with 

wonderful consistency, appears also in a number of 
words that, judging them by their meaning at the 
present day, scarcely seem to present any connection 
whatsoever. Night, through the notion dark, black, 
is carried back to the Sanskrit root ang, Latin ungo, 
to dye, to smear; ground asiA. terra to a root denoting 
to grind, to crumble ; corn denotes something that has 
been husked ; thunder (a word that certainly sounds 
onomatopoetic) must be referred, according to Max 
Miiller, to the Sanskrit root tan, to stretch, and is akin 
to tone or the sound peculiar to a stretched cord. In 
the same manner iener, tender, must be derived from 
thin, and the latter again from the fact of tension. 
Schreiben, ypaq)oo, and scribere, as well as the English 
write and the German Riss, are identical with a root 
denoting ritzen, to scratch. From the root da, to bind, 
are derived words of the following meanings : yoke, 
gird, husband, twins, sister, house, and innumerable 
others. Tools, language designates bywords that cor- 
respond to the human acts which they promote; they 
are symbolized, so to speak, actively. Scissors, hatchets, 
and saws are things that shear (Swedish skdra, sickel), 
hack, and saw. Everywhere, in all the formations of 
words with which we are familiar, the conceptual 
element is seen to prevail, but nowhere do we find 
direct imitation of the sounds of nature. The names 
of the majority of animals and plants designate the 
creatures and things to which they refer, by color ; 
and almost in all languages we recognize as the most 
primitive roots, human and animal acts symbolized in 
the form of some characteristic gesture or posture; 
and even in historical times we find, that the develop- 
ment and growth of language follow exactly the same 
course. The abstract yf^//;*' is traceable to a word that 
denotes to knead a soft clay. The beautiful German 
word Dichter (poet) suggests the primitive untutored 
bard, who was originally wont to dictate to a scribe the 
words of his own invention. And, moreover, if the 
imitation of the sounds of nature had originally been 
the principle according to which words were formed, 
it certainly would have occupied an extensive place in 
languages, and would have long remained perceptible 
and continued perhaps up to the present day in active 

It is unmistakable that we have approached through 
this explanation considerably nearer to the dark depths 
from which the fountain of speech first bubbled forth. 
The question further, — previously touched upon, — as 
to whether man first possessed tools or speech, Geiger 
decides in favor of the latter; and he bases his proof 
upon the fact, that the names of tools and of the re- 
sults they bring about, are expressed by roots that de- 
note human physical acts ; hence, that all words de- 
noting grinding (niahlen), milling, and the like, were 
originally connected with ^nal, mar {jnordeo), which 



meant to bruise, to crush with the fingers, and probably 
also to crush with the teeth. Sculpo to cut out with a 
chisel, is a collateral form of scalpo, which originally 
meant to scratch with the nails. The root vc, the basis 
of our weave, is traced back by Geiger, with a reference 
to vivien, withe (willow), to the oldest practiced art ; 
namely, the twisting of branches into lodge-nests for 
primitive man, which afterwards led to weaving or 
plaiting, an art possessed by all savage tribes. 

But I must confess that to my mind this last 
argument possesses very little weight. Man, it is true, 
did not have complicated, or even perfect, tools before 
the possession of speech, — perhaps not even mill- 
stones ; but I am inclined to doubt, whether, notwith- 
standing this fact, he might not have designated 
crushing with stones and teeth interchangeably by the 
same root, as well as all scraping with the hands and a 
stone, which latter in this case would merely be a part 
of the hand. 

There is also something far-fetched about Geiger's 
hypothesis respecting the origin of the first word. 
His sympathetic aping reflection of a gesture with 
accompanying speech-sound, I must admit, seems a 
rather bold abstraction, in which Geiger manifestly 
wished to comprise the three factors met with in the 
oldest roots : which are (i) the phonetic word, (2) the 
visual percept, and (3) human posture or gesture as 
the expression of an act. 

noire's conception. 

Now I take it that man, who like the ape and 
other animals is a social being, very early acquired a 
power of communication, that is, a language of gesture 
or attitude. Nothing stands in the way of such an as- 
sumption, since we find this faculty very distinctly 
marked and extensively represented throughout the 
entire animal kingdom. Animals are trained to the 
expression of significant gestures, as birds are to song, 
which is at the same time the expression of an inner 
emotion and a kind of communication, being intended 
either to allure the female, or to entertain the brood- 
ing bird. It is therefore not at all impossible, that in 
the case of primeval men, living gregariously, gestures 
might have been developed with a definite conceptual 
content, established as such, and transmitted by course 
of training to after generations. We must, of course, 
conceive these gestures as a summons to some ap- 
pointed act or task, as we find to be actually the case 
with ants, termites, bees, etc. It would suffice now 
for some vehement animated gesticulatory action of 
this kind to be accompanied in every instance by a 
peculiar sound (let us call to mind, for example, the 
many different sounds by which a dog accompanies his 
signs of joy, grief, submission, repentance, and im- 
patience) — and in consequence thereof this gesture 

could very well be recalled to mind by the sound ; 
while, following the law of development, the former 
would gradually recede, and the latter ultimately attain 
absolute supremacy. As stated this is \\\^\y possible, 
and it increases in probability when we take note of 
the fact that savage nations, ignorant persons, and 
people who do not perfectly understand a language, 
are always wont to emphasize their words by lively 

A possible origin of this kind ought to satisfy com- 
pletely our inquisitiveness ; agreeably to what Dugald 
Stewart, also quoted by M. Miiller, justly maintains : 
"In examining the history of mankind, as well as in 
"examining the phenomena of the material world, 
"when we cannot trace the process by which an event 
^' has been produced, it is often of importance to be 
"able to show how it may have been produced by 
"natural causes. Thus, although it is impossible to 
"determine with certainty what the steps were by 
"which any particular language was formed, yet if 
"we can show, from the known principles of human 
"nature, how all its various parts might gradually 
" have arisen, the mind is not only to a certain degree 
"satisfied, but a check is given to that indolent phi- 
" losophy which refers to a miracle whatever appear- 
" ances, both in the natural and moral worlds, it is un- 
" able to explain." 

Any one who will survey the successive develop- 
ment of things as they start from the simplest ele- 
ments, and through continued combinations effected 
by the influence of the external world, early deviate 
so much from their origin that the latter is scarcely 
longer recognizable, will surely admit that the most 
cutting sneer to be levelled at speculative philosophy, 
in its confidence of victory, would be to demand it 
to construct a camel a prio)-i. But empiric historical 
science has also cause to be modest, notwithstanding 
that it follows the much surer road, constantly con- 
trolled by present events, of inference from that which 
now exists to what before existed ; in which process 
it employs as basis the solid foundation of innumerable 
facts, upon which it constructs ever narrowing stages 
reaching up to an apex of unity, while the speculative 
method endeavors to rest its complete structure upon 
that apex. 

I shall try to show by an example, how abundantly 
also inductive science has cause to be satisfied with 
the possibility of explanation. I shall suppose that 
after the lapse of a few thousand years literary tradi- 
tion had suffered an interruption, and that the world 
was entirely left in the dark concerning the scientific 
researches of our present epoch. Electricity will, by 
that time, have become of enormous importance, and 
found a wide application in all the relations of life. 
Let us suppose now that some historian starts the 



question (as the case is in our own time with the 
question of fire) of how and in what manner hu- 
manity at first obtained possession and knowledge of 
this wonderful natural agency. Does anybody really 
fancy that the historian by continuous and successive 
inferences would ultimately light upon the fact that 
once upon a time a certain physicist had hung up frogs- 
legs by iron hooks upon copper railings 1 Certainly 
not. But a thousand possibilities will occur to him, 
and with these he will rest satisfied. 

I shall now, in addition to those above set forth, 
submit another hypothesis, which also conforms to ex- 
perience as deduced from animal life, and the pos- 
sibility of which will hardly be contested by any one. 

If we examine the phonetic utterances of the ani- 
mal world, we shall find underlying the same a variety 
of inner impulses, but always the endeavor to make 
these impulses intelligible to others. We find, princip- 
ally, three kinds of sounds; viz. — 

1. Calls of Allurement or Summons. These are 
an expression of emotion, accompanied by an obscure 
percept, and they aim at influencing the will and acts of 
a kindred being. 

2. War-Cries. Also the expression of emotion. 
They endeavor to arouse fear and dismay in an enemy. 

3. Calls of JVarning. Only among social ani- 
mals. Emotion cooperates. The percept prevails. 
Endeavor to work upon the will of others by arousing 
a similar percept. 

It is not difficult to discern in these three catego- 
ries the sub-soil of human speech. All three have 
this in common with one another, that they spring 
from the inner world of emotion, and strive in turn to 
awaken emotion — the first and third a kindred, and 
the second an opposite emotion. In the first there is 
present also either an obscure percept, as, for instance, 
that of a female, or a still clearer one, as when the 
hen calls her brood to newly-discovered food. So 
too, in the third, is the percept of impending danger, 
which by the cry is also excited in distant or dispersed 

The first human sound that deserved the name of 
word, could not have differed from these animal sounds 
except by a higher degree of luminousness in the per- 
cepts or images which accompanied it and were 
awakened by it. Discipline must have helped to 
bring it about that such a sound — just as the notes of 
a bird — upon being often repeated, became a kind of 
representative sign, which along with the sensation 
also excited the faint image. Such sounds are inter- 
jections. But interjections are not adapted to the 
formation of language, because the emotional element 
still prevails in them to such an extent that clear and 
tranquil percepts cannot form, and, therefore, cannot 
originate from the same. On the other hand, we are 

able to imagine many possible ways in which a sound 
as yet involved in the animal stage of development 
could become the representative of a definite, inde- 
pendent percept. 

Should any one interpose, that for such a huge edi- 
fice my hypothesis assumes a much too narrow basis, 
let him call to mind the example I cited above, in 
which, from the twitching of a frog's leg through con- 
tinuous combinations and mental efforts the myste- 
rious, hardly dreamed of domain of electricity was 
drawn within the reach of human knowledge and 
power. What we call chance has demonstrably played 
a principal role at the beginning of the most impor- 
tant and difficult advances of human civilization. 
Such is the case with the acquisition of the agency of 
fire, which, like tools, language, and religion, consti- 
tutes a truly distinctive characteristic of man ; how 
variously may we not imagine its origin to have been, 
and how many accidents may not have borne an ac- 
tive share in that origin ! At all events, the task re- 
quired human energy, and, as Geiger says, we have 
reason to admire the boldness that accomplished that 
feat, never before achieved, when man, for the first 
time, approached the dreaded flame and carried aloft 
over the earth the burning log of wood — an inspired 
act without precedent in the animal world, and of im- 
measurable consequence to the development of hu- 
man civilization. And if we compare the oldest form 
of implement for the production of fire by friction — 
as it is still found among savage tribes, and even 
among civilized nations in certain religious practices 
— which was a simple piece of wood bored into a 
softer piece and set on fire by continuous twirling, 
when we compare such an implement with the holes 
that are found bored in the same way in stone-axes, 
we are readily led to assume that accident was the ori- 
gin of this acquisition, and that from this single thing 
and its further retention and application all the rest 



In a recent article in The Open Court having the 
title "Is Logic a Dualistic Science?" I attempted 
to show as against Mr. Venn's recent work that logical 
processes do not deal with the comparison of ideas, 
on the one hand, with perceptions on the other ; the 
reason, in general, being that logical processes enter 
into the structure of perceptions as well as of ideas, 
and that, therefore, such processes could not be con- 
sidered as beginning with the comparison of ready- 
made perceptions and conceptions. The opinion was 
then advanced that there is but one world of knowl- 
edge, whether in the form of perceptions or of ideas, 
and that this world is logical all the way through. 



To this doctrine an objection somewhat after this 
fashion might be raised : Such a conception makes the 
process of verification impossible. If there is but one 
realm of knowledge, what is the standard of truth ? 
with what shall we compare our ideas in order to verify 
them ? If logic has a dualistic basis, the question is 
easily answered; on one hand, there is the world of 
conceptions of ideas, on the other, the world of percep- 
tions, of facts. And we test our ideas by comparing 
them with facts. But upon the theory of a single realm 
of knowledge, logical throughout, no such comparison 
and testing is possible. It seems upon this theory that 
the only criterion of truth is the consistency of ideas 
with themselves, and every one knows that ideas may 
be self-consistent, and yet untrue, or even highly 

Undoubtedly the objection points to a serious diffi- 
culty, one which must be reckoned with. I shall not 
attempt to evade it by denying that there is a relative 
distinction at least, between idea and fact. I shall 
rather ask what does this distinction of idea and fact 
(speaking always from the logical point of view) mean 
and how does it arise? If an objection lies against the 
unitary theory advanced, a still stronger objection lies 
against the dualistic theory. This objection I may 
state as follows : What is this world of facts by com- 
parison with which we test our ideas? Is it the real, 
the true world ? This supposes that this real world, 
the actual facts, are known. But if they are known, 
so that they can afford the standard of verification, 
why do we go to the trouble of forming a theorj', of 
making a hypothesis? If we already know the facts, 
it certainly seems a waste of energy and of time to 
frame guesses, to elaborate ideas simply for the sake 
of going through the meaningless process of seeing 
whether or not they agree with a truth already per- 
fectly known. It is evident that we only form a theory, 
or entertain ideas, as distinguished from facts, when 
we are not in possession of the truth, when we are in 
search of it. Per xontra, if the facts by which we are 
to test our theory are not the real facts but the facts 
as they seem to be, the facts as previously known, 
there is another difficulty. It is just because we sus- 
pected these apparent facts of not being real, that we 
framed a theory which should get nearer to the reality 
of the case. It would certainly be a curious operation 
to test our theory by a standard whose discrediting 
had led to the formation of the theory. This then 
is the dilemma with which I would confront the dua- 
listic notion. If the standard by which we are to test 
our ideas is the real fact, the actual truth, then, by 
the necessity of the case, the standard is unknown ; 
if the standard is facts as they seem to be, as already 
apprehended, it is worthless. The only standard of 
value is out of reach; the attainable standard is no 

standard at all. In either case, verification would 
seem to be an impossible process. 

I hope this result may at least induce us to con- 
sider the other point of view ; the notion that we do 
not have ideas separate from facts, which we proceed 
to compare one with the other, but that the (un- 
doubted) distinction between idea and fact is itself 
logical, brought about by and within logical processes. 

Let me begin with a well-known psychological fact 
— that which Bain calls "primitive credulity." So 
far as we can judge, early childhood makes no differ- 
ence between ideas and facts. It does not recognize 
its ideas as ideas, but it at once projects them into the 
outer realm. Suggest an idea to a baby, by saying 
some word which he recognizes, the name of a known 
object or person, and the baby looks around him to 
see that object. A child's mind is like an animal's ; 
it is intensely practical. Ideas, as such, do not ap- 
peal to it. The thing, the action, is what the child is 
after. A baby's inability to entertain a question, or 
even after it can answer questions relating directly to 
fact, its inability to consider questions involving a 
' whether this or that,' testify to its incapacity to hold 
an idea in its ideal aspect. What is it that breaks up 
this primitive intellectual innocency ; this immediate 
transformation of idea into fact ? Apparently, it is the 
disappointment of expectation, at first, and then as a 
further development of this, the dim perception of 
contradictions. The baby, when he hears the word 
' Papa,' looks about him and does not see his father ; 
probably, at first, the new idea, what he actually sees, 
simply expels the other idea. The idea of father is 
not retained before the mind long enough for the con- 
tradiction to be perceived. But there is at least the 
shock of unrealized expectation, and the feeling of the 
necessary adjustment to the new idea. As the mind's 
power of holding its ideas fixed becomes greater-, the 
new idea will not simply drive out the other, substi- 
tuting itself for it, but will struggle with it for pos- 
session of the mind. Now the actual idea contradicts 
the idea which the mind is endeavoring to project 
into actuality ; it prevents this projection. It is, as it 
seems to me, this two-fold process : on one hand, the 
retaining of an idea before the mind, on the other, its 
repulsion from actual fact through a stronger contra- 
dictory idea, which leads the mind to the hitherto un- 
entertained recognition of an idea as only ideal, as a 
mere idea. 

This analysis seems to me to be verified by the 
phenomena of illiterate and savage life, of dreams, 
and of hypnotism, so far as we can appeal to that un- 
settled sphere. The difficulty savages have of dis- 
criminating ideas from facts is a commonplace of 
ethnology. The absence of contradictory facts re- 
tained in the mind leads us to take everything we 



dream as real, while we dream it. The savage con- 
tinues to think of it as real when he awakes ; it is 
only something that happened in another region of 
experience, when the soul sallied forth from the body. 
And while I would not speak dogmatically regarding 
hypnotism, Janet and others seem to have made it 
probable that its essential phenomenon is dissociation, 
the severing of the connections between groups of 
ideas united in ordinary sense-perception and thought. 
These connections being broken down, the mind ex- 
periences no contradiction on being told while in a 
room of a house that it is in a boat upon the ocean. 
The idea, having no other body of ideas over against 
which it is set, is taken, as in childhood, for a fact. 

But to return to the argument. The mind learns 
through the contradictions existing between its ideas 
that not all can be projected as facts ; some must be 
dismissed as false, or, at least, retained only tentatively 
as possible facts. It is this tentative holding of an 
idea which constitutes the logical distinction of idea 
and fact. The fact is the idea which nothing contra- 
dicts, which harmonizes with other ideas, which al- 
lows the mind free play and economical movement. 
The idea is at first the fact about which difficulties are 
felt, which opposes a barrier to the mind's movement, 
and which, if not in opposition to other facts, is, at 
least, in opposition to apparent facts. In a word, the 
distinction between 'idea' and 'fact ' arises along with 
the distinction between real and apparent fact. 

Let us test this result by considering scientific hy- 
pothesis. The mind frames a hypothesis or theory, 
because it is dissatisfied with its present (or rather 
former) judgments. The ideas which it has formerly 
taken to be facts, it has come to look upon with sus- 
picion. The hypothesis is an idea Avhich is supposed 
to be fact, or at least, to be nearer fact than previous 
ideas. But, till it can be verified, it is held only ten- 
tatively, and this holding may be of all degrees of 
comparative assurance, from a mere suggestion or 
question to a well-defined theory. The process of 
transforming the hypothesis, or idea entertained ten- 
tatively, into a fact, or idea held definitely, is verifi- 
cation. We saw at the outset the difficulties which 
beset the ordinary crude notion of verification, that 
which considers it as a process of comparing ready- 
made ideas with ready-made facts ; let us see how our 
present notion meets these difficulties. 

In the first place, what are the facts in contrast 
with which the hypothesis is regarded as merely an 
idea ? They are not a fixed something ; fixed either 
in amount, or in quality. If the idea, the hypothesis 
needs extension, transformation and verification, the 
'facts' in their turn, are in need of enlargement, al- 
teration and significance. Take, for example, the 
hypothesis of evolution. The facts by which this 

theory is to be verified or disproved are not a fixed, 
unchangeable body ; if the theory gets its verification 
through the facts, the facts get a transformed and en- 
larged meaning through the theory. I do not mean 
simply that the theory leads to the discovery of new 
facts, though this is noteworthy, and, I think, inex- 
plicable on the dualistic assumption. But suppose 
there is some animal of which absolutely no new ob- 
servation has been made since the formation of the 
theory of evolution ; our knowledge of that animal, 
t\ie. facts oi the animal have been, none the less, trans- 
formed, even revolutionized, l^et this instance illus- 
trate the relation of the facts to the idea ; if the idea, 
the theory, is tentative, if it is pliable and must be 
bent to fit the facts, it should not be forgotten that the 
'facts' are not rigid, but are elastic to the touch of 
the theory. 

In other words, the distinction between the idea 
and the facts is not between a mere mental state, on 
one side, and a hard and rigid body on the other. 
Both idea and 'facts' are flexible, and verification is 
the process of mutual adjustment, of organic interac- 
tion. It is just because the 'facts' are not final, set- 
tled facts that the mind frames its hypothesis or idea; 
the idea is the tentative transformation of these seem- 
ing facts into more real facts. 

More in detail, we may consider the process as fol- 
lows : The mind attacks the mass of facts which it 
suspects not to be facts piece-meal. It picks out some 
one aspect or relation of these 'facts,' isolates it, 
(technically the process of abstraction) and of this 
isolated relation it forms a h}'pothesis, which it then 
sets over against the facts from which this relation has 
been isolated. The isolated relation constitutes, tech- 
nically, the universal ; the background of mass of facts 
is the particular. The verification is the bringing to- 
gether of this universal and particular : if the univer- 
sal confronted with the particulars succeeds in filling 
out its own abstract or empty character by absorbing 
the particulars into itself as its own details, it is verified. 
And there is no other test of a theory than this, its 
ability to work, to organize 'facts' into itself as speci- 
fications of its own nature. But on the other side, the 
particulars attacked by the universal do not remain 
indifferent ; through it they are placed in a new light, 
and as facts gain a new quality. Organized into the 
theory, they become more significant ; what had pre- 
viously been oppositions and even contradictions among 
them is removed, and we get a harmonious system. 
The important point then is to see that verification is 
a two-edged sword. It does not test and transform 
the 'idea,' the theory, any more than it tries and 
moulds the 'facts.' In other words, if the idea is ten- 
tative, needing to be brought before the court of the 
facts, so also the 'facts' are inadequate and more or 



less contradictory — that is, they are only apparently 
facts. They need therefore to be harmonized and ren- 
dered significant through the idea, the hypothesis. 
We may indifferently describe the process as a move- 
ment of the theory upon the facts whereby the latter 
are rendered more rational, i. e. , more significant and 
harmonious, or as a confronting of the theory by the 
facts, whereby it is verified. The actual result is the 
same in either case; we simply describe it from two 
points of view. 

To recapitulate the whole matter : the distinction 
between idea and fact fs a relative one, not an absolute 
separation; it is made for the sake of what we may 
term either a more real and more complete fact, or a 
more adequate and certain idea. There is a period, 
not only in childhood, but in every science, and as to 
every subject-matter in every science, when idea and 
fact are at one. But contradictions arise ; the mind 
therefore holds idea and fact apart, regarding the 
idea as tentative and the fact as apparent. To this 
stage, there supervenes a period in which the mind 
attempts to get a definitive idea — or, from the other 
side, a real fact. It therefore by observation, experi- 
ment, and all other means at its disposal, makes its 
idea as definite and coherent as possible, and thus 
frames a hypothesis or theory. This theory it brings 
to the apparent facts, in order to organize them, to 
give them new and additional significance. So far as 
this is accomplished, idea and fact again become one, 
to remain one until further contradictions are discov- 
ered when the process must again be gone through 
with. And this is the description of the actual pro- 
cess of knowledge, of science. We have first an un- 
conscious identification of idea and fact, and on this 
basis the universe, the realm of experience, is built up. 
But this universe lays itself open somewhere to sus- 
picion ; this suspected aspect is held apart from the 
rest, as an idea, the remainder being left undisturbed 
as 'fact.' The idea is wrought over as an idea into a 
scientific hypothesis, and is then projected again into 
the facts. As verified it becomes an essential part of 
the facts, changing to some degree or other the char- 
acter of these facts. But this new universe again be- 
iiaves suspiciously: the suspicious 'fact' is again ar- 
rested and condemned as a tnere idea, but passing 
through the reformatory of thought issues as an hy- 
pothesis, and is turned out again into the free world of 

This continued process of breaking up and re- 
combination by which knowledge detects, condemns, 
and transforms itself is verification. Thus the analy- 
sis of this process confirms the former contention that 
the logical sphere is integral and unitary. 

Ann Arbor. 


Professor Ernst H^ckel* in explaining the evolu- 
tion of Vertebrates calls our attention to the import- 
ance of Amphioxus lanceolatus, a little fish about 
two inches long, shaped like a lancet, and living, 
mostly hidden in the sand, in shallow places of the 
Mediterranean, the Baltic, and the North Sea. It has 
no head, no cranium, no brain. The front part is dis- 
tinguishable from the hind part almost solely by the 
presence of the mouth surrounded by a number of 
cilia ; and yet the Lanceolate belongs to the aristocratic 
class of Vertebrates : it possesses a spinal cord. The 
Lanceolate, accordingly, is the last surviving represen- 
tative of the lowliest family among the Vertebrates. 

Pallas, the first discovefer of the Lanceolate, did 
not at once recognize the importance of his find. He 
considered it as a kind of imperfect snail. Yet the pre- 
sence of a chorda dorsalis, i. e. of a cartilaginous string 
forming the axis of the skeleton, and the medulla spinalis 
(spinal cord), fix the relation of this little fish beyond 
all doubt. Kowalewsky and Kupffer, moreover, have 
proved, that to a certain degree the ontogeny of the 
Lanceolate corresponds in all particulars on the one 
hand with that of the lower Vertebrates and on the 
other with that of the Ascidians. Thus we can con- 
sider it as an established truth that the Lanceolate is 
the connecting link between the Invertebrates and the 

Leuckart and Pagenstecher discovered in the front 
part of the spinal cord of the Amphioxus (see MiJller's 
Archiv, 1858, p. 561) a small vesicle, which represents 
a primitive brain — if brain it can be called. However, 
whether this vesicle represents the initial state of 
all three bulbs that appear in a higher development 
(as W. Miiller says), or whether it represents the 
third bulb only (as Mihalkovics says), or whether it 
corresponds (as Huxley says) to the thalamencephalon, 
i. e. , the second bulb, is still an unsettled question. 
It is not improbable that the Amphioxus which we are 
acquainted with, is a degenerated form of that creature 
from which the higher vertebrates have descended. 

In the plates published in the last number (No. 138, 
page 2215) of The Open Court Professor Haeckel com- 
pares the development of a mollusk, like the Ascidian 
(A), with Amphioxus lanceolatus (B). How small are the 
differences in the beginning ! Andyet they were destined 
to keep the one creature in its humble condition of a 
mere vegetative existence, while the other in the course 

* NatUrliche Sckop/ungsgesckichte^ Chap. 24. 



of further evolution was enabled to gain dominion 
over the whole creation of earth. 

There are several differences of radical importance 
between Amphioxus lanccolatus and the higher Ver- 
tebrates ; yet besides that of the absence of brain 
and cranium in the former, there is no greater disparity 
than in the arterial system of blood-circulation. The 
Acrania (the Vertebrates without cranium, represented 
by the Lanceolate) have no proper hearts ; their hearts 
are mere arterial tubes, while the Craniata (the Ver- 
tebrates with a cranium) are throughout endowed with 
a regular heart, which, engine-like, drives the arterial 
blood through the whole system. 

The nervous systems of all the Vertebrates are 
greatly different from those of the Invertebrates. There 
is no oesophagean ring encircling the gullet ; and in- 
stead of isolated ganglia, we have one continuous 
column which is no longer below but far above the in- 
testinal canal. This column is protected by bony 
covers (the vertebrae) which constitute a flexible yet 
strong backbone. The foremost ganglia together with 
their vertebral cases are transformed into brain and 
cranium ; but the hemispheres and their bony cover, 


(After Ecker.) 

H. Hemispheres. 
Lop. Optic Lobes. 
M. Medulla. 
Ml.-Mio. Spinal 

5. Sympathetic 

Sr.-Sio. Ganglia of 

the Sympathetic. 
MS. Branches c n- 

necting spina! cord 

and sympathetic. 
No. Femoral nerve. 
Ni. Sciatic nerve. 
I-X. Cranial nerves. 
/. Olfactory. 
//. Optic nerve with. 

{0} eye. 
///. Oculo-motor. 

IV. Trochlear. 

V. Trigeminal. 

VI. Abducent. 

VII. and F. Facial. 

VIII. Auditory. 

IX. Glossopharyn- 

X. Vagus. 

V^. Gasserian Gang- 
lion (of fifth nerve). 

V}. Connect ion £ 
Gasserian ganglion 
with the S y m p a- 

F. Facial nerve. 

G. Ganglion of the 

X1-X4. Branches of 
the Vagus. 

the top of the head, are an additional growth, which 
has developed out of the first vertebra.* 

As the most representative examples of the various 
Vertebrates we select a number of diagrams of the 
brains of fishes, amphibians, birds, and mammals. 

Squale -Renaid. 


BRAIN OF A PIKE AND OF A SHARK, (.^fter Leuret and Gratiolet.) 
tc. Cerebral tubercles (lobes I. 
to. Optic tubercles (lobes). 
te. Ethmoid or olfactory tubercle. 
tv. Vagus tubercle. The ganglion of the vagus nerve. 

i'. Cerebellum. 

e. Olfactory nerves. 

0. Optic nerves. 
p. Pathetic nerve. 

w. Oculo-mctor nerve. 
a. Abducent nerve. 

/. Trifacial nerve. 
f. Facial nerve. 

/. Labyrinthic nerve. 

V. Vagus or branchial nerve. 

The most prominent divisions of the nervous sys- 
tem in the Vertebrates, i. e. , in Fishes, Reptiles, Birds, 
and Mammals, are : 

1. The Spinal Cord; 

2. The Bulb {Medulla Oblongata); 

3. The Small Brain (^Cerebellum); 

4. The Bridge (^pons Varolii); 

5. The Optic Lobes ; and 

6. The Thalami Optici. 

(The Optic Lobes are of greater importance in the 
lower Vertebrates ; they are called in the physiology 
of man the Four Hills {corpora quadrigemina). The 
Thalamus remains entirely undeveloped in the lower 

7. The Striped Body {Corpus Siriatum). 

8. The Hemispheres, or brain proper {Cerebrum). 

♦Gegenbauer, Untersuchungen zur VergUichenden Anatomie der UTir- 
beUhiere. Part. Ill, das KopfskeUtt der Selachier als Grundlagl zur Beurthti- 
liing der Gertese des Kop/skeletts der WirheUhiere. Leipzig: 1872. 




eproduced from Bastian.) 


. Cerebral lobes. 

. Optic lobes. 

. Cerebellum. 

, Membrane of the nose, 

Olfactory ni 

Optic nerve 


BRAIN OF A PERCH. (Gcgenbauer, after Cuvii 

A. Cranial lobe with olfactory ganglion (/). 

B. Optic lobe. 

C. Cerebellum. 

D. Medulla oblongata. 

/. Olfactory nerve. 
a. Nasal sac. 
//. Optic nerve, severed. 

///. Oculo-motor nerve. ■ 

IK Trochlear nerve. 

V. Trigeminal. 
y/i. Auditory. 
V///. Vagus with its ganglion ^. 
ki. Branches of vagus. 

;«. Dorsal branch of trigeminus in connectic 
n. Dorsal branch of vagus. 
afty. The three branches of the trigeminus K 
6e. Facial nerve. 
Jl. Branches of the vagus. 


Cliouette . 




The nervous system originates as a hollow tube 
formed by a very thin film. At an early stage of its 
development, the upper end (as seen in the adjoined 
figure) bulges out into three continuous bulbs. The 
first is to be the fore brain, the second the mid brain, 
and the third the hind brain. 


EMBRYO. (From Wiedersheira.) 



(BD.) Blastoderm. 

y*^wm «)tf* 

(KS.) Germinal 

Early stage, representing 


fcetal brain of a chick. 
(After Mihalkovics.) 

■^,KA.) Wail of the 

psc/. Primitive fore brain. 


opi. Primitive eye. 

[R.) Medullary 

msc. Midbrain. 


(■A--r. Hind brain. 

(G.) Brain. 

?>-.». After brain. 
s^j:. Spinal cord. 

Later stage, representing in a diagram the 
fcetal brain of a mammal. (McAllister.) 

J^. Hemispheres (secondary forebrain), 
representing the excrescences of the prim- 
itiveofore brain. 

J='B. Primitive forebrain. 

TV/. Thalamic region or intermediate 

MB'^cq. Mid brain = Corpora quadri- 

HB=cb. Hind br; 
AB. After brain= 
cs. Corpus striati] 
It. Lateral ventrii 
mvt. Foramen Mi 
3 3. Third ventri 
s. Aquaductus sil 
4. Fourth Ventric 

Medulla oblongata. 

In the further evolution of the embryo we observe 
excrescences on each side of the fore brain. The pas- 
sage to the mid brain is elongated and we call it the 
intermediate brain. The hind brain shows a new. di- 
vision which makes it slope by degrees into the spinal 
cord. This part is called the after brain. 

The excrescences of the fore brain are to become 
the hemispheres ; they constitute the cerebral region 
of the brain. The fore brain will shrink so as to dis- 
appear almost entirely. The intermediate brain will 
develop the Thalami. The mid brain the Four Hills. 
The hind brain the Cerebellum and pons, while the 
after brain will change into the Medulla Oblongata. 

The cavities of the tube will remain also, although 
much modified. The cavities in the hemispheres are 
called the lateral ventricles. Through the growth of 
the walls they become straightened into three narrow 
caves called the anterior, posterior, and lateral horns. 
The cavity of the original fore brain fuses with the 
cavity of the intermediate brain into the so-called 
"third ventricle." The passage from the two lateral 
ventricles into the third ventricle is very much re- 
duced ; it has the shape of a Y, and is called Foramen 

The adjoined figures and diagrams show the growth 
of the different parts of the brain from its simplest 

The similarity of arrangement and the difference 
of development in the various parts of the brain among 
fishes, birds, reptiles, and mammals may be studied in 
the diagrams on page 2232, reproduced from Edinger. 


F. Fore brain. 

/. Intermediate brain. 

M. Mid brain. 

H. Hind brain. 

A. After brain. 

/(. Hemispheres. 
hp. Hypophysis. 
p.gL Pineal gland or epiphysis. 
inf. InfuDdibulum. 

th. Thalamus (represented by a dotted line, because growing out f 
the side walls it does not appear in a sagittal section). 
mo. Medulla oblongata. 
Ct>. Cerebellum. 

P. Pons. 
CQ. Corpora Quadrigemina. 
Cr. Crus Cerebri. 

F. (in No. V) Fornix (the hind part of the hemispheric excrescenc 

cs. Corpus striatum. 

ill. Foramen Monro. 

3. Third ventricle. 

4. Fourth ventricle. 
/. Lateral ventricle. 
s. Aquaductus Sylvii. 

In a further development m sinks down to . 
e ;«, m2. Thus the corpus striatum is place 
; latter (th) is overarched by the Fornix (F) 

, as indicated by the dotted 
longside the thalamus and 




We went a-begging for a nobler creed, 

We craved the living bread and wine of thought, 
That Eucharist which is not sold or bought 

But freely given ; yet, did any heed 

'Twas but to offer pence, or bid us feed 
From empty sacramental vessels, wrought 
Of gold or brass ; we spent our prayers for nought. 

Faint and athirst with spiritual need. 

Then some brought grapes, and some brought corn and yeast 
Plenteous and good ; yet still we murmured " Give ! 
This is scant fare when thirst and hunger cry ; 
Teach us to change our garner for a feast, 
Preparing food by which the mind may live, 
Perennial loaves and flagons never dry." 



•'Omnia vtea, vtecu}n porta.'' — Bias. 
To the Editor of The Open Court : — 

I SHOULD be glad, with your permission, to make a very brief 
minute on the fair and' enlightened criticism of Hylo-idealism, at 
page 2163 of T/ie Open Court, March 20. Surely, to begin with, 
the terms Ego and Self, or I, are identical, and not as stated by 
my critic, only similar. The term Soul is etymologically one with 
Life (Leib), and can only be a function of the vital organism, not 
a separate substance or entity. In fact, if we define Life, as we 
must do now-a-days, and for ninety years past, on the principle of 
general or structural anatomy (Somatology), as the sum of the or- 
.ganic (corporeal) functions, and Death as their extinction, the whole 
question drops by elimination of the whole imposing (in all senses 
of the ambiguous term) "spiritual imposture" — using the latter 
word in no invidious sense, but only as synonym for pre- and anti- 
scientific illusion and delusion. And if God be a spirit— a word 
which only means breath — that immemorial spectre vanishes as 
only the Archimagus of provisional spiritualism (Animism). Ma- 
terialism, or Somatism, upon which all true science rests, is clearly 
hylo-zoic, and therefore Atheos, as independent of any immate- 
rial principles or Anima Mundi to perform offices Matter performs 
by its own J'is Insita. Monism seems thus, on the first princi- 
ciples of logic, an Entelechy or assured demonstration, two ef- 
ficient motives or (y«(7.r/-causes being inadmissible, when one is 
sufficient. Miss Constance Naden's sentence, quoted in the cri. 
tique, that Self, in hylo-ideal phraseology, is co-extensive with the 
Cosmos — seems a root-idea quite incontrovertible. Objection is 
also taken to my basal argument "that the human mind cannot 
transcend its own percepts and concepts (consciousness), which con- 



stitute its entire universe." But surely my position here is quite 
self-evident. Quod siij>ia, rv/ e.xlrii uos, nihil ad nos, i. e., non- 
existent for us, is, if ever there was one, a simple and indisputable 
axiom. It seems entirely to traverse my candid and able critic's 
assertion "that in our own self we find conceptions [or ideals] 
which constantly compel man to think higher than himself. For, 
how can that be, if these conceptions and ideals are his very own ? 
As my critic himself allows in the three words I have italicized in 
the preceding sentence. Surely out of -S'c'^-consciousness all 
is blank nihility. Indeed, there is an ambiguity in my critic's own 
expression of belief in the correctness of Dr. Lewins's meaning, 
while insisting, at the sarne time, on its being "misleading." 
My reviewer quote?, with approval, a passage from the pamphlet, 
" Hylo-Idealism, or Autocentricism," by H. L. C, to the effect 
"that neither Matter nor Idea has the slightest preference over the 
other." But that is a metaphysical compromise which I disclaim, 
and which I may mention, was ultimately disclaimed by H. L. C. 
himself, prior to his lamentable premature death by suicide, as the 
consequence of over-strained brain and nerves while pursuing his 
undergraduate studies at Cambridge. My position is that Matter 
or Body is all in all, and that mind, idea, soul or spirit — i. e. Anim- 
ism in every form — is only material or bodily eject, project, or ex- 
hibit. " In the beginning" was not exactly Die That, as Goethe 
makes Faust propound when translating the Neo-Platonic Fourth 
Gospel, but Das Ding. And yet this "thing" only manifests 
itself to us as a " Think. " 

In conclusion, I may remark, as elsewhere I have done, that 
Professor Max Miiller, even on philological, which are less con- 
clusive than anatomical data, is compelled to bear witness, in his 
recent Science of Thought, that I have quite made out my conten- 
tion that " thing" to us can be only "think." And on that con- 
tention hangs the whole gist of my syntax. On that postulate I 
base the whole truth or falsehood of Hylo-Idealism, which combines 
Neo-Protagorism, the Lutheran doctrine of Private [individual] 
Judgment, and the right of personal conscience, with the Kantian 
negation of " Thing in itself." Religion (Divine worship), thus 
expires, its substitute being Hygiene, defined not as mere sanitary 
science, but, as Dr. Parkes in his manual of that ullimus partus 
tcmporis has it, supreme culture of body, including brain — a sub- 
stitution which at once transforms as by the Palingenesia fabled 
of the Christian pseudo-revelation, the thought, conduct and destiny 
of past and present derelict humanity. R. Lewins, M. D. 

London, April 1890. 

nly possible data o£ philosophy 

The result of his philosophy is summed up in these words : 


and infinite /f: 


The Way Out of Agnosticism ; or, the Philosophy of Free 

Religion. By Francis Ellingwood Abbot, Ph. D. Boston : 

Little, Brown, & Co. 

This little volume of seventy-five pages contains Dr. Abbot's 
philosophy in a more popular form than his larger work. Scientific 
Theism. It is a collection of essays based on notes of forty-one 
lectures delivered in 1888 in the " Advanced Course, Philosophy 
13," at Harvard University. Agnosticism is characterized in the 
preface as that philo ophical opinion according to which "no 
theory of the universe is possible" and the most vital questions, 
such as "whether the phenomenal universe is the product of in- 
telligence or unintelligence .... whether conscious existence 
ceases at death or continues beyond the grave, are necessarily and 
absolutely unanswerable." Dr. Abbot fully recognizes the weak- 
ness of this position, which has become the philosophy of the age, 
and shows a way out of it by proposing a philosophy of free re- 
ligion, such as he conceives to be the onlv possible one. 

The basis on which Dr. Abbot takes his stand are the facts of 
experience, critically sifted by science. He says : 

" The universal results of the special sciences, including the method 

known as at once infinite machine, infinite organism, 
■ mechanical in its apparent form and action, organic in 
its essential constitution, and personal in its innermost being : it is the eternally 
self-evolving and self-involving unity of the Absolute Real and the Absolute 
Ideal in God." 

We must call the reader's attention to the fact that Dr. Ab- 
bot uses the words organic and personal not in their precise scien- 
tific meaning. The Universe is maintained to be personal, because 
it makes morality passible : it is the objective ground and founda- 
tion of moral action, or, as Dr. Abbot says, it is "moral." The 
Universe being moral. Dr. Abbot calls it an infinite person. We 
have in a former number * stated our dissent from this presentation, 
and can accordingly be brief here. We use the words " organism 
and person " in their usual and more limited sense, and must ac- 
cordingly refrain from calling the Universe an organism or a per- 
son. But granting the use of the word person in the sense of 
affording an objective ground for our moral ideal, there would be 
no objection to Dr. Abbot's conclusion. 

To present, with brevity, the evolution of thought in great out- 
lines. Dr. Abbot characterizes the three great phases of philosophy, 
as (i) the Greek, (2) the German, and (3) the American. General- 
izations of this kind are often useful, but easily lead the student 
astray who is not sufficiently familiar with the particulars. We 
believe that Dr. Abbot would better have characterized the differ- 
ent views by their respective representatives, viz., by Aristotle and 
by Kant. Kant being the leader of German philosophy, Kantian 
philosophy is a special phase of, but can by no means be consid- 
ered as the German theory. 

Dr. Abbot says : 

" In this German theory of Universals lies the deep, secret, and generally 
unsuspected source of all modern Agnosticism, a result which was uncriti- 
cally accepted, ready-made, by Spencer and Huxley from Hamilton and Man- 
sel, borrowed by Hamilton and Mansel from Kant and the post-Kantian Ideal- 
ists, and originally developed by Kant out of Hume and other adherents of 
Scholastic Nominalism." 

Kant's agnosticism (viz., the idea that things in themselves 
are unknowable) was, after all, only a phase in his own develop- 
ment, the traces of which were left in his chief work. The Critique 
of Pure Reason. The Critique of Pure Reason stands as a land- 
mark in the evolution of philosophic thought, and, like mountain- 
ranges, the great landmarks of nature, this book owes its existence 
to a revolution that threw up the differeiit strata of a long course 
of development, and sometimes left the most recent thought, indi- 
cating a new era, standing beside the most reverent, yet antiquated 
ideas which Kant's genius had in vain endeavored to modernize. 
Kant's Critique of Pure Reason is by no means a work that is of 
one harmonious cast. It shows (as Windelband explained in an 
article on the subject*) at least four phases in his conception of 
noumena, some of which are radically contradictory to one 
another. It is fortunate that the old and agnostic Kant did not 
wipe out of later editions those passages which let us recognize the 
younger and positive Kant. 

However different Dr. Abbot's method and the sphere of his 
activity are from ours, we recognize in his works the same goal 
and the same ideal. We cannot agree with his terminology, nor can 
we always consider his manner of systematizing thought a success. 
The repetition of his three stages, the machine, the organism, the 
person, appears to our conception artificial. Nevertheless we read 
the book with pleasure and satisfaction, and believe that it will fulfil 
its mission. The spirit of Dr. Abbot's philosophy is character- 
ized in the concluding sentence : 

* Pages 2050-51. 

t Philosophische Monatshefte. 



"Said Ralph Waldo Emerson, America's greatest prophet; 'There is a 
statement of religion possible which makes all scepticism absurd.' Is there 
not such a statement lying latent and implicit in the Philosophy of Free 

All Open Letter to the Hon. Edivard M. Paxson, the Chief Jus- 
tice of Pennsylvania, is the title of a little pamphlet by Mr. 
Richard B. Westbrook, of the Philadelphia bar, wherein two as- 
sertions of the Chief Justice before the Law School of the Univer- 
sity of Pennsylvania in October last — namely, (i) that the law of 
Sinai was " the first of which we have knowledge, " and (2) that 
Moses was the greatest statesman and lawgiver the world has ever 
produced " — are severely animadverted upon. Dr. Westbrook has 
written a learned letter, and presented the facts of his argument 
in a formidable shape. 

We have received the second number of the new Russian 
philosophical quarterly Vcprosy filosLifii i psichologiiii (Questions of 
Philosophy and Psychology), published by the Psychological So- 
ciety of Moscow, and edited by the well-known Moscow savant, 
Prof. Dr. N. Grote. In the prefatory remarks to the first volume 
of this periodical. Professor Grote declared that it was the inten- 
tion of the new quarterly to respond to an actual social need in 
Russian life, and not merely to the cultured wants of a few philo- 
sophically-inclined individuals. Russian philosophy, and conse- 
quently the Russian conception of life and ethics, has been until 
very recently the ideal embodiment of confusion and inconsis- 
tency, never with an object of its own in view, but constantly and 
servilely taking to itself the newest tendencies of occidental 
thought. But within the last ten years there has been a notable 
resuscitation of Russian original research, which has taken a dis- 
tinctly national turn ; new life has appeared in the universities ; 
authors like Solovieff, Tchitcherine, Strahoft, and Kozlof have 
arisen ; a psychological society was founded in 1885, by Professor 
Troitsky, in Moscow ; and finally the movement has exhibited an 
ethico-social aspect in the renowned works of Count Leo Tolstoi. 
To make the new review the e.xpoaent of this new tendency, is the 
intention of its founders. It will eschew the preponderantly 
special character that so many magazines of its kind affect, and 
its pages will be open to the expression of every opinion. The 
contents of the present number are as follows : " The Relations 
of Voltaire to Rousseau," by I. L. Radlow ; " The Relations of 
Philosophy to Science," by H. A. Ivanzow ; "Ethical Problems 
in Contemporaneous Philosophy," by L. M. Lopatine ; "Con- 
cerning the Question of Free- Will," by H. A. Zverev ; " What is 
Metaphysics," by Prof, ferote ; " Psychophysical and Mechanical 
Theories," by H. I. Tchitchine ; "Historical," by H. H. 
Ovcianniko-Kulikowsky ; Reports, Reviews, Notes, etc. 

The following are the chief contents of No. 2, of Vol. Ill, of 
the American Journal of Psychology (January Quarter) ; " The In- 
sanity of Doubt," by Philip Coombs Knapp ; "The Effect of 
Fatigue on Voluntary Muscular Contractions," by Warren P. Lom- 
bard ; " Studies from the Laboratory of Experimental Psychology 
of the University of Wisconsin," by Joseph Jastrow ; "Children's 
Lies"; " A Sketch of the History of Reflex Action." The first 
results of the experimental work of the psychological laboratory of 
the University of Wisconsin, under the direction of Prof. J. Jas- 
trow, are here published ; they bear principally upon the establish- 
ment and verification of the psycho-physic law. Dr. Lombards 
researches on Voluntary Muscular Contractions are suggestive, 
and Mr. Knapp 's article on the Insanity of Doubt is a fair resume 
of his subject. The department of " psychological literature " is 
especially rich and well worth the subscription to this quarterly. 
(Editor, G. Stanley Hall, Clark University, Worcester, Mass.) 

Neuroses Due to Eye-Strain." Dr. Gould's practical conclusions 
are: (i) In headache rtfeiyj- suspect eye-strain, and especially in 
women in the years between puberty and middle age (2) In func- 
tional gastric derangements, not quickly to be explained otherwise, 
suspect eye-strain, and especially if headache coexist (3) In other 
functional derangements such as chorea, nervous heart, extreme 
irritability of temper, hysteria, etc., that do not yield to treatment, 
or that are not idiopathically or otherwise explainable, exhaust the 
possibility of a reflex neurosis from eye-strain or other peripheral 
irritation. (4) Have the refraction estimated, under a mydriatic, 
and the coordination of the external ocular muscles proved, by a 
scientific authority, in the case of every child, before or by the age of 


The eight-hour movement has in view the procuring o€ greater 
leisure to workingmen, so that they can devote more time to in- 
tellectual culture and self-education. We are in full sympathy 
with this endeavor and we recognize the right of laborers to do all 
they can to improve their condition and to fight for their ends by 
the help of all the legal means that our constitution and laws afford 
It is to be hoped that the scheme will, at least to some extent, prove 
successful, and we should count it a great step forward if the em- 
ployees of the government were to be engaged throughout the 
United States on the eight-hour plan. 

The eight-hour movement involves, however, , many problems 
concerning which it is almost impossible to foretell how they will 
or can be solved. Will our capital be able to bear the loss of a 
reduction in work without a reduction of wages ? Moreover, there 
are workingmen who do not work by time, but by the piece. Fur- 
ther, there are farmers, teachers, clergymen, editors, agents, 
cabmen, railway-men, servants, and the like : how will they be 
benefitted by the movement unless their salaries rise in the same 
proportion ? And if thus a general increase of wages in all pro- 
fessions be effected, would not necessarily everything become more 
expensive in the same ratio ? Our gain, in that case, would be in 
statistical figures only, but not in reality ; on the contrary we 
would lose in an inverse ratio, since we would become that much 
weaker in competing in the world-market with foreign nations. 

Without considering all these difficulties we see a great danger 
to the independent man of little means, the small employer, ai:d 
to him who is about to start a business of his own. Is not the 
preservation of this middle class universally considered as of great 
concern in republican states ? and will not the consequences of the 
eight-hour movement fall most heavily upon them ? It is scarcely 
to be doubted that to many of them it will be fatal. Let us hope, 
however, the best for the future. We trust that the leaders of 
the movement will consider the problem from all sides, p. c. 

Dr. George M. Gould has sent us copies of two pamphlets : 
' Clinical Illustrations of Reflex Ocular Neuroses " ; and " Reflex 


In a pleasant article "A Help to Moral Life" in the last 
Ethical Record Mr. W. M. Salter, the leader of the Ethical Culture 
Society of Chicago, proposes that a collection be made of the 
ethically inspired passages of the literature of the world, which 
shall " serve in the midst of our busy lives to remind us of higher 
things, to freshen our aspirations and nerve our will." Such an 
ethical anthology should be drawn from all the sacred and profane 
writers. M. Aurelius, Plato, the Bible, Emerson, Newman, and 
many others are suggested. But this work is to be the out- 
come of the reading and experiences of many individuals, and all 
accordingly are requested to send such appropriate passages and 
selections as they come across, to Mr. W. M. Salter, of No. 516 
North Avenue, Chicago, who probably may undertake their pub- 

The Open Court 


Devoted to the Work of Conciliating Religion with Science. 

No. 140. (Vol. IV.— 10 ) 

CHICAGO, MAY i, 1890. 

J Two Dollars 
I Single Copii 


The greatest religious revolution which the world 
has ever seen was that of Christianity. From the 
standpoint of an impartial umpire, it must be con- 
fessed that the triumph of the Christian Faith has 
been the grandest in history. The founder of Chris- 
tianity, who died on the cross as an outlawed criminal, 
led the van of a new civilization. In his name kings 
and emperors reverently bowed and yielded to the de- 
mands of humaner ideals ; while the greatest philoso- 
phers, the princes of thought, brooded over his ethical 

How can we explain the unparalleled success of 
Christianity? It is due, undoubtedly, to the sublimity 
of Christ's ethics, to the gentleness and nobility of his 
person, to the kindness of his heart, to the wealth of 
his spiritual treasures, and to the poverty of his ap- 
pearance. But that is not all. Every business man 
knows that for success, not only ability is required, not 
only the solidity of one's goods, but the merchandise 
offered must also be in demand. 

No movement in history can be successful unless 
it is based upon a solid ethical basis, having in view 
the elevation and amelioration, not of a single class or 
nation, but of the human kind. Yet this is not all. 
A revolution must be needed; it must stand in de- 
mand. No revolution will endure unless the ethical 
idea by which it is animated lies deeply rooted in the 

A successful revolution must be the result of evolu- 
tion ; and a successful revolutionist must combine two 
rare qualities, an unflinching radicalism and a strong 
conservativism. The ideal of a successful movement 
must open new and grand vistas for progress, but at 
the same time it must be the fulfillment of a hope, 
the realization of a prophecy. Thus it will shed its 
light on the ages past, which will now be understood 
as preliminary and preparatory endeavors to effect and 
tD realize this ideal. 

We stand on the eve of another great religious 
revolution. Humanity has outgrown the old dogma- 
tism of the churches, and a new faith is bursting forth 
in the hearts of men, which promises to be broader 
and humaner than the narrow bigotry of old creeds. 
It promises to accord with science, for it is the very 
outcome of science ! It will teach men a new ethics 

— an ethics not founded on the authority of a power 
foreign to humanity, but upon nature, upon the basis 
from which humanity grew ; it will rest upon a more 
correct understanding of man and man's natural ten- 
dency to progress and to raise himself to a higher 
plane of work, and to a nobler activity. 

Science has undermined our religious belief, and 
beneath its critical investigations dogmas crumble 
away. But whatever science may undermine of ec- 
clesiastical creeds, it does not, and will not, prove 
subversive of the moral commandments of religion. 
Science will, after all, only purify the religious ideals 
of mankind, and will show them in their moral im- 
portance. The most radical criticism of science will 
always remain in concord with the reverent regard for 
the moral ideal. 

We believe in progress, and trust that man lives 
not in vain, that man's labor, if rightly done, will fur- 
ther the cause of humanity and make the world better 
— be it ever so little better — than it was. We aspire 
to a nobler future — and let me point out one import- 
ant subject which is too often overlooked, and which 
is indispensable to success. The success of ideals is 
impossible without a due respect for the ideas which 
are to be displaced. The triumph of a better future 
depends upon a due reverence for the merits of the 
past, or, in other words, we must know that the new 
view is the outcome of the old view. The ethical re- 
ligion of the future springs from the seed of past 
ecclesiastical religions. And if the latter appear to 
us as superstitious notions of a crude and strangely 
materialistic imagination, they nevertheless contain 
the germs of purer and more spiritual conceptions. 
And there is no doubt that the founder of Christianity 
is more in accord with the new rising movement than 
with the doctrines of his followers, who worship his 
name, but neglect the truth and spirit of his teachings. 

When Christ preached the sermon on the mount, 
which contains, so to say, the programme of his doc- 
trines, he expressly stated : " Think not that I am 
come to destroy the law or the prophets ; I am not 
come to destroy, but to fulfil." This sentence con 
tains the clue to his grand success. Christ was a con- 
servative revolutionist. The new movement which ho 
introduced in the history of mankind, was the result 
of the past ; the New Testament was the fulfillment 



of the Old. And so every successful movement has 
been, not a mere destruction of old errors, not the in- 
troduction of some absolutely new idea, but the ful- 
fillment of the past, and the realization of long cher- 
ished aspirations and hopes. 

Let us learn a lesson from Christ, and like him, let 
us " not come to destroy, but to fulfil." 





On the 15th of October, 1754, the historian Gibbon 
sat musing in the Ara Coeli Church at Rome. This 
ancient church — thirteen centuries old — occupies the 
site of the Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus ; one of its 
columns came from the palace of the Caesars ; the one 
hundred and twenty-four marble steps in front are from 
the ruins of the Temple of Quirinus. Here, then, amid 
these relics of imperial Rome, sat Gibbon, "while the 
barefooted friars were singing vespers"; and in his 
mind arose " the idea of writing the Decline and Fall 
of the City." Probably one chapter in that book did 
more to awaken the spirit of historical scepticism than 
any that had appeared. 

To-day — Twelfth Day — I sat musing where Gibbon 
sat, and a strange masquerade of antiquity passed be- 
fore me. For it was the high festival of the Bambino — 
an image of the infant Jesus said to have been carved 
by a pilgrim from a tree on the Mount of Olives, and 
painted by St. Luke while the pilgrim was sleeping. 
Years ago I saw this doll at a private 'interview' given 
to Gen. Sherman. We were then told that this image 
was carried about in its coach to houses of the sick, to 
work 'faith-cures,' and that its fees were larger than 
those of all the physicians in Rome combined. Some 
one suggested that it would be a capital practitioner 
to follow an army with the ambulances. To-day I had 
a strong impression that the Bambino had been re- 
painted since I saw it before, but must be mistaken, 
for of course pigments of St. Luke would not rust. 
On Christmas day the Bambino was taken from his 
closet and borne in procession to a large illuminated 
grotto, where he has received the adoration of thou- 
sands until to day, when, after culminant ceremonies, 
he was borne again to his cloister. In the grotto were 
figures, life-size, of Mary on her knees, holding the 
Bambino, Joseph near by, and the adoring shepherd- 
kings. The ceiling was radiant with cherubs and 
large angels. Mary is youthful, Joseph venerable, — 
to heighten the improbability of his being the infant's 
father. The substitution of a cave for the scriptural 
stable, as the holy babe's birth-place, associates him 
with Dionysos and Hermes and other cave-born deities, 

but all the circumstances of this Babe-worship carry 
me back to the banks of the Jumna, and the infant 
Krishna. There the Hindus pressed on me little 
pictures of Krishna, — the word means 'tinged,' — as 
here they sell me penny pictures of the 'tinged' Bam- 
bino. But I must not go into comparative mythology. 
Across the church, in front of the grotto, a little stage 
is erected. Here, not so many years ago, children 
were wont to perform little dramas, showing forth the 
miraculous works of the Bambino ; now they only make 
little speeches, the most dramatic exercise being an 
occasional dialogue between two. The children's ages 
range from five to twelve. They are children of the 
poor, and repeat speeches put into them like phono- 
graphs. One describes the splendid jewels with which 
the Bambino is decorated from head to foot ; there is 
no intimation that these jewels — presented by the 
wealthy in more credulous times — might save his pau- 
per-worshippers from more suffering than his medical 
potency can heal. A little boy threw kisses at the 
Bambino; a little girl told how happy his mother must 
be. Now and then when the small speakers lost the 
thread of their discourse, or spoke the wrong word, 
there were bursts of merriment in the crowd, making 
a strange antiphone for the Franciscans singing at the 
altar. However, merriment was the order of the day, 
and tin-trumpets were sounding on the great stairway 

Around the arch of the grotto are many small 
pictures — daubs rather — put there by worshippers who 
believed themselves healed by the Bambino. These 
represent varieties of accidents from which they were 
saved, — men under cart-wheels, women falling down 
stairs, children pitching out of windows. In the corner 
of each picture is seen the Babe and his mother, sug- 
gesting to the incredulous' that with such proximity 
they might as well have prevented the accident. But 
then how could the Bambino be supported and en- 
riched ? And, by the way, I found in an adjoining 
altar a curious suggestion of antiquity. This is an 
altar under the special patronage of St. Anthony. In 
front of it is written, St giiccris miracula — to which one 
naturally adds circumspice. Over the remains of Sir 
Christopher Wren in St. Paul's, London, is written Si 
monumeiitum qiiceris, circumspice — if you seek his monu- 
ment, look around, that is, at the cathedral he built. 
This altar inscription invites us to find St. Anthony's 
miracles by looking at the votive pictures reporting 
them — pictures resembling those around the grotto, 
except that, instead of the Bambino, in the corner of 
each appears St. Anthony bearing a lily (symbol of his 
chastity.) Now, I could not help suspecting that in 
this most ancient and plebeian church, there was here 
a survival of the time when these altars were com- 
petitive. Here again my memory went back to India, 



where, at religious festivals, I saw worshippers of dif- 
ferent gods and goddesses clamorously soliciting pat- 
ronage for their own shrine. I have been pulled one 
way towards Jaganathand another towards Krishna, — 
being expected to buy a token at the one I went to. 
Thirteen centuries ago these saints and images were 
not so harmonious as now. The festival day witnessed 
a grand bazaar, in which each priest vociferated the 
miraculous advantages of his own altar. Between the 
St. Anthony altar and the Bambino is set the throned 
marble figure of Pope Paul III, to remind us of the all- 
comprehending sway under which these competing 
stalls of the Holy Fair were made cooperative. 

This old mitred Pope looked very grandfatherly 
with the children climbing all over him to get a better 
.ook at the grotto ceremonies. There was wild ex- 
citement when, at about a quarter past four, the long 
procession in blue gowns, bearing yard-long candles, 
moved slowly through the church, chanting. When 
the grotto was reached a priest in richly embroidered 
robes ascended and took the Bambino from Mary, 
whose upheld hand with stretched out fingers remained 
rigidly where the Babe's head had been supported. I 
noticed that the Bambino was preceded by a white- 
and-gold banner in the centre of which was a picture, 
apparently of St. Anthony — this precedence possibly 
the result of an ancient compromise between the rival 
altars. In the procession moved hundreds of priests, 
and it was wonderful to see these gray men, with 
spectacled eyes, some with scholarly faces, following 
this decorated half-yard of painted wood. The Bam- 
bino passed under my eyes. Its smooth painted face, 
staring eyes, golden crown ; its white swathing cloth- 
ing, enclosing the legs and feet in one mass — as is the 
custom among Italian peasants ; impressed me as make- 
up in a solemn comedy. I could not help thinking of 
Tieck's tale of the leather effigy vitalized by a shooting 
star, and wondering what story this staring wood would 
have to tell should it suddenly be animated, and made 
more advanced in years. Now it appeared amused 
with what was going on. The procession marched 
with it out of doors, where the last splendors of the 
sun were shining on a thousand bowed heads, and 
marched round the church again. And now I noted 
something that may have been mere coincidence, 
though I suspect not. When they came in from the 
open air the last time, — by a door facing the west, — 
it was exactly as the sun was disappearing. I will not 
say the sun was setting — it might only have gone be- 
hind houses — but the Bambino was held up outside 
the door in its last apparent ray, and at that moment 
the long file of processionists in advance, knelt along 
the middle aisle, turned their faces toward the Bam- 
bino and the fading light, and crossed themselves. 
Here again I resist the temptation to enter on solar 

m3'thology, and pass on to my story. Which indeed 
is nearly ended. The Bambino was borne from the 
fading sunlight at the west to the high altar at the 
east, and there, amid waltz-like music of the organ, 
and alternate singing of priests and people, shone for 
a moment, then disappeared in clouds of incense, — to 
be seen no more until next Christmas. 

As the tall altar candles were extinguished, I turned 
to leave. It was slow work — so vast was the throng, — 
and I had opportunity to observe the crowd. The 
mass was of poor Italians, but a large majority of the 
well-dressed were English, Germans, and Americans 
They bowed to no altar as they passed, nor crossed 
themselves, nor touched themselves with holy water. 
Is this old Bambino festival, like the Oberammergau 
Passion Play, kept up by and for protestant tourists? 
At our hotel there are a few wealthy Catholics, and I 
observe that they rarely go to these antiquated church- 
spectacles, and some even betray a certain irritation 
at our interest in them. Are they growing to be 
ashamed of them ? 

I found I had lost a little package of pictures, — of 
the Bambino, St. Michael with Satan underfoot, etc., — 
and returned into Ara Coeli to find them. The grotto 
was dark, the altar candles extinguished, but by the 
light of one ever-burning lamp I distinguished a person 
leaning against the famous pillar from Caesar's palace, 
marked Ex ciihiculo Augusionim. He was a quaint 
figure, in knee-breeches and powdered wig, and seemed 
to have been making notes in a little book. He said 
tome in good English, 'Have you lost something?' 
'Yes,' I replied, describing the little package. 'Ah, 
give me your address, and if I find your lost pictures 
you will receive them.' 'Thanks,' I said, giving my 
card, 'and will you give me yours?' I glanced at his 
card — could my eyes deceive me? 'What means this,' 
I cried, 'are you a descendant of the historian Gibbon ?' 
' I am the historian himself. You see when I got to 
the gate of heaven St. Peter said he didn't entirely 
like my views of Roman history, and directed that I 
should return to this church, where my work was be- 
gun, and spend a hundred years studying it over 
again.' 'But is it not a dreadful Wandering Jew kind 
of doom?' 'Why no, I rather like it; and in truth I 
find St. Peter wasn't far wrong in wishing me to revise 
my impressions.' 'If it isn't boring you,' I said, 'I 
would be glad to learn your later opinion.' 'Well, to 
give it briefly, I find that what I called a Decline and 
Fall was really a moral ascent. The Capitol had been 
superb, but founded in cruelty, the proud palace of 
the Caesars in oppression, the Temple of Jupiter in the 
principle of arbitrary authority. Their crumbled walls — 
symbolizing the Fall of Rome — went to build this 
church, which was dedicated to Santa Maria in Capi- 
tolio. In other words a woman's heart was conse- 

2 2 -.8 


crated in the citadel of heartlessness. T4ien there was 
an ancient dream of the lowl}' that the hon would lie 
down with the lamb, and a little child should lead 
them. The Bambino is a rude memorial of that little 
child, who led captive the lion of Roman power which 
had fed on the lamb — on the weak and innocent. 
These things have petrified now — they are fossils — but 
a student must not despise fossils. That was my 
error. And these superstitions, — are they not better 
than the gladiatorial combats in yonder grim Colis- 
seum, and the victims that once bled on altars where 
we stand?' 

At this moment the Sacristan, who did not appear 
to see my interlocutor, pointed me to the door, and 
my interview with the historian ended just as I was 
about to argue with him concerning the cruelties of 
the Holy Empire. 

Rome, i8qo. 



I WILL add a few words to this correspondence, be- 
cause, from what M. Binet has now supplied, it ap- 
pears to me that his "point of view" has been fully 
cleared up. 

Briefly put, he expressly abolishes distinction be- 
tween physiology and psychology. Therefore, as he 
tells us, while writing his book on the ''Psychic Life 
of Micro-Organisms," he "set aside the question of 
consciousness"; and adds, "I do not know, and no 
one in my judgment, can know, whether the Micro- 
Organisms are conscious or not of their highly com- 
plex physiological acts." In other words, the Micro- 
Organisms do not fall within my " Criterion of Mind " : 
they yield no objective evidence of consciousness, and 
hence M. Binet and I appear to be in full agreement 
on all points, save that of the appropriateness of using 
psychological terms while dealing with physiological 
facts. If he does not know, and does not believe he 
can ever know, whether his Micro-Organisms possess 
even the faintest rudiment of consciousness (and, a 
fortiori, of emotion or intelligence), it becomes but a 
meaningless — though a most misleading — performance 
to write a book which professes to show that the Micro- 
Organisms present "the majority" of the emotional 
and intellectual faculties which characterize the higher 
mammalia. No doubt it is most desirable ever to re- 
member that psychological states are correlated with 
physiological, but hopeless confusion must result if we 
expressly confound the two things. If, for example, 
we say, as M. Binet now says, "Fear is an especial 
physiological state, which may or may not be accom- 
panied with consciousness," we are merely discharg- 
ing from the word "Fear" every vestige of its dis- 
tinctive meaning. Fear is not a physiological state. 

even though it be true that it is always expressive of a 
physiological state. We might as well say that a high 
sea is an especial aerial state, because it never occurs 
without an aerial tempest. 

By thus intentionally confounding the subject- 
matter of one science with the subject-matter of an- 
other, we should merely be obstructing progress in 
both, and I cannot help thinking that if M. Binet had 
occupied himself more with purely physiological re- 
search, and less with his investigations into compara- 
tively abnormal psychology, he would have seen this 
for himself. 

For example, when, as now, he speaks of so-called 
"unconscious judgments" as if the term were not 
metaphorical, but really "scientific," see what it leads 
to. "Plainly, this is a psychological terminology ap- 
plied to phenomena that are (perhaps) purely physio- 
logical. But what is the harm ?" The "harm " is that 
the "terminology" involves a contradiction in terms. 
In as far as judgment is judgment it cannot be uncon- 
scious — any more than shadow can be sunshine, or a 
living body a dead one. We cannot indeed have 
shadow without light, or life without a body ; but this 
does not prove that shadow is light, or that life is a 
corpse. And the contrast between consciousness and 
no-consciousness is even greater than that between 
light and shadow, or that between life and death. For 
it involves the difference between existence as extended 
and not extended, as physical and not physical, as ma- 
terial and not material. Therefore, I say, to confound 
the subject-matter of psychology with the subject- 
matter of physiology, is to invite "harm " even greater 
than could arise by similarly confounding the subject- 
matter of any other two sciences whatsoever. There- 
fore, also, the very difficulty which unfortunately arises 
in determining the boundaries between these two sci- 
ences, — or in assigning the place at which physics be- 
gin to become associated with psychics, — appears to 
me to constitute the best of reasons why we should 
clearly recognize the great distinction that there be- 
gins to emerge, since it is unquestionably the greatest 
distinction that falls within the range of human expe- 
rience. And, in my opinion, no better illustration 
could be given of the "harm " which arises by refus- 
ing to entertain this great distinction, than is furnished 
by M. Binet's book. For this book really serves to 
emphasize the impossibility of studying the phenom- 
ena of mind on their physiological side. Take, for ex- 
ample, the following statement of his position. "I 
do not allow the contention of Mr. Romanes, that such 
an employment [i. e., transposition] of terms is not a 
scientific one ; for everybody is competent to translate 
the words 'unconscious judgment ' into their equivalent 
which is this : 'the material process that accompanies 
judgment when judgment is conscious.' This point 



postulated and thoroughly grasped, it is conceivable 
how we may undertake the same task with regard to 
all psycho physiological functions. This is the work 
I sought to accomplish in the case of the Micro-Organ- 
isms." Well, observe the result of this attempt. On ac- 
count of their performing certain adjustive movements, 
M. Binet, as we have seen, ascribes to these creatures 
the majority of emotional and other psychical processes 
which occur in the higher animals. Yet these Micro- 
organisms present no observable nervous system ; and, 
in view of their methods of multiplication by fission etc. , 
we must conclude that they cannot possess any such 
system. On the other hand, we know that the mate- 
rial processes which accompany judgment, or any of 
the other mental processes which M. Binet ascribes 
to the Micro- Organisms, are elsewhere material 
processes which take place in the nervous system. 
Therefore, even if we allow (for the sake of argument) 
that all these mental processes do occur in these or- 
ganisms, it is perfectly certain that the material pro- 
cesses which accompan}' them cannot resemble those 
which accompany the same mental processes as these 
occur in the higher animals. So that here, at all events, 
nobody "is competent to translate the words 'uncon- 
scious judgment' into their equivalent" : the equiva- 
lent (supposing that there be an equivalent) must be 
totally different in the two cases, even from the purely 
"objective point of view. " 

I cannot see that M. Binet's recapitulation of his 
objection to my definition of instinct invalidates the 
answer which I previously gave, if only the whole defi- 
nition be quoted (he only quotes the half). Briefly 
stated, I regard instinct as reflex action which is con- 
scious of its own perfortnance. From this it follows, as 
previously stated, that in particular cases we are often 
unable to say whether a given action is reflex only, or 
likewise instinctive. But it does not follow, as M. 
Binet's objection asserts, that instinct, when it is 
present, "is incompatible with the idea of conscious- 
ness" ; for the fact that in any particular case we have 
not the means of proving the presence of conscious- 
ness, is no proof that consciousness is not present. 

London, Feb. 16, i8go. 

which in outward appearance resemble heaps of burs 
thickly crowded about the ganglionic cells and nerves, 
and filling the spaces between them. 

The nervous system is built up of (i) nervous sub- 
stance and (2) neuroglia. Nervous substance consists 
either of ganglionic cells or of nerve- fibres, the latter 
being processes rising out of ganglionic cells. Neu- 
roglia, the nervous bindweb, is as it were the framework 
which supports the nervous substance. The mem- 
branes which envelop the ganglionic cells and the 
sheaths which encase the nerve-fibres and nerve-bun- 
dles are neuroglia ; and besides these comparatively 
strong ligaments there are most delicate neuroglia-cells 


A. and B. Ganglionic cells. 

C. Neuroglia cells. 

D. Axis cylinder. 

p. Protoplasmic process 

The spinal cord is a long tube of nervous substance 
supported by neuroglia, having comparatively thick 
walls. Its cavity has almost disappeared. The gray 

Posterior part. 


A'. Columns of Tiirck (direct pyratnjdal). 

A. A. Crossed pyramidal tracts. 

B. B. Posterior root zone (Burdach's column). 

C. C. Posterior horns. 

D. D. Anterior horns. 
E. Column of Goll. 

F. F. Anterior root zone. 

ed from Charcot. 

matter of the spinal cord appears when viewed in a 
horizontal section to be arranged in the shape of cres- 



called the anterior and posterior horns. These parts 
contain the ganglionic nerve-cells. The white matter 
consists of fibres which stand in connection with the 
gray matter of the horns. These fibres lead up to, and 
arrive from, the different parts of the brain. The 
nerve bundles coming out of the spinal cord are called 
radices or roots. 

Posterior Part. 


r Part. 


section aft 


Radix anterior. 


Radix posterior. 


Inner part of Radix posterior 



Commissura posterior (gray s 
Commissura anterior. 



Central canal. 

The nutrition of nervous substance takes place in 
the direction of its functional activity. Accordingly, 
if we cut a nerve, it will degenerate, in case it be mo- 
tory, below, in case it be sensory, above the cut. With 
the aid of this law, named after the English physiol- 
ogist Waller, experiments have been made (especially 
on dogs) with a view to tracing the directions of the 
different nerves. The results of the experiments were 
then compared with and corroborated by pathological 

The posterior roots have by this method been proved 
to be sensory. Peripherally they originate in the Pa- 
cinian corpuscles which are embedded in the mucous 
membrane of the skin. Shortly before entering the 
spinal cord they pass through a ganglion which makes 
the sensory fibres easily distinguishable from the 
motor fibres of the anterior roots. The anterior roots, 
or motory fibres, terminate directly in their respective 
muscles. The most important sensory tracts in the 

spinal cord to which the posterior roots lead, are 
Goll's bundles, situated between the posterior horns, 
and the cerebellar bundles situated on both sides. 
The most important motory centres lie (i) between 
the posterior horns : they are called Turk's bundles or 
the direct pyramidal bundles ; and (2) on both sides 
underneath the cerebellar bundles. This motor tract 
is called the indirect pyramidal bundle. 

S^injjl GoAgPir.n. 

Sensor ij j>o.rt- 


With anterior and posterior roots. (After Edinger.J 

All further details are best studied by an inspection 
of the adjoined diagrams. 

the posterior horns and lead 

lis of the cerebellum. 

being (like i) paths for centres 

Showing the different bundles of nervous fibres in two cervical 
a pectoral, and a lumbar section of the spinal cord. 

1. Anterior bundle of mixed nerves, paths to and from reflex cen 
medulla oblongata. 

2. Burdach's bundles receive fibres froi 
them through the corpus restiforme to the ve 

3 and \. Lateral bundles of mixed nervt 
of reflex motions in the medulla oblongata. 3 ; 
fibres, originating in the posterior horns. 

5. Goll's bundle, ascending nerves, which can 
in the funiculus gracilis of the medulla oblongata. 

6. Cerebellar fibres, pass through the corpus restiform 
posterior horns with the cerebellum. 

7. Pyramidal bundles. Indirect or decussated trac'. 
7. I. Direct pyramidal bundles. 
V, Anterior roots. 

nd 4 

some sensory 

traced to the gray r 



Posterior Part 


The diagram represents the course of various fibres : sensory n 

(i, 2, 3, 4) entering the posterior horns; motory nerves passing out from the 

anterior horns ; and commissural fibres, bringing certain gray centres into rela- 

sory cells are of globular, the motory cells of pyramidal form. 
Imbedded in the posterior horns is Clark's Column (columna vescicularis) 
which can be traced from the lumbar region up to the cervical region and 
reaches most probably into the medulla oblongata. 

The mechanism of the sensory or posterior horns is apparently much more 
complicatedthan that of the anterior or motory horns. Between the gray cells 
and the marginal layer, (called by Lissauer zona terminalis,) there is a gelat- 
inous substance {substantia gelatinosa Rolandi). Moreover all the nervous 
irritations transmitted through sensory fibres, have to pass through a net-work 
{zona spongiosa)\ns^\v\c\\. the connection between the processes of the gray 
cells and their respective fibres ceases to be visible. The continuation of 
fibres to their cells is solely inferred from processes of degen 



CORD (After Striimpell). 
The spinal cord was 

quence thereof we find 
after the lapse of a few 
w-eeks an ascending de- 
generation of sensory 
nerves (as seen in A and 
B), and a descending 
degeneration of motor 
nerves (as seen in D and 

NERVE (Reproduced from Edinger). 

The diagram shows how different situations of diseased portions will pro- 
duce different effects. 

A tumor in the left capsule {A) will produce paralysis in the muscles of the 
right portion of the body. A tumor in B will affect the facial nerve of the left 
side and some of the muscles in the right extremities. A tumor in (Twill affect, 
part of the right facial nerve of the right pyramidal bundles. 


(Reproduced from Edinger.) 

Showing the degeneration of the direct fibres 
on the left, and of the indirect on the right 
side, in consequence of a tumor in the left 
capsula interna. 

The adjoined sections (After Erb) of the 
spinal cord show the same process viewed 



The bulb or medulla oblongata, the continuation of 
the spinal cord, is, as the seat of the most vital reflex 
centres, of extraordinary importance. It is here that, 
with two exceptions, the most important higher nerves 
originate. These two exceptions are the First and 
Second nerves. The First Nerve (the olfactory) stands 
in close connection with the cerebrum or hemispheric 
part of the brain; the Second or Optic Nerve with the 
thalamus opticus and the optic lobes {^corpora quadri- 
gemina). All other nerves that are higher developed 
and more differentiated than the spinal nerves, have 
their roots in the medulla. 

(Reproduced from Landois). 

c. Conariuin 

pv. Pulvinart 

and/. Four hills 

• cuslii< 

.1 gland. 

n, i. e., lower p 

a Qaadrigemin; 

conjunctivum anticum, 


'thalamus optic 
;. Anterior hill. 

The following reflex centres are situated in the 
medulla, viz. : those that effect — 
(i) The closing of the eye-lids; 

(2) Sneezing; 

(3) Coughing; 

(4) Sucking and chewing; 

(5) Secretion of saliva; 

(6) Swallowing; 

(7) \^omiting ; and 

(8) Contraction of the iris. 

There is in addition to these reflex centres asuper- 
ordinated centre, which combines the different centres 
among themselves so as to make complicated reflex 
motions possible without interference of cerebral ac- 
tivity. This superordinated centre is situated in the 
rabbit about 6 mm above the calamus scriptorius. Its 
presence is proved by experiments on decapitated 
frogs, lizards, eels, and also on mammals in which the 
medulla has been severed by dissection from the up- 
per parts of the nervous system. (Proved by the ex- 
periments of Sig. Mayer, Luchsinger andOwsjanikow.) 

The reflex centres of breathing seem to be of a 
complex nature. There are two centres in the medulla, 
one for inspiration, the other for expiration, and both 
are automatic. They continue to work even after the 
section of all sensory nerves, and depend upon the blood 
circulation ; venous blood operating as an irritation for 

Flourens has localized the noeud vital or centre of 
breathing, on both sides between the nuclei of theacces- 
sorius and the vagus nerves. But further researches 

/. Posterior 
tracts of nerve-fibres leading 
., tracts of nerve-fibres lead- 

ha. Brachial 
) the anterior hill. 

b p. Brachium conjunct: 
ig to the posterior hill. 

pc. Pedunculus Cerebri, nerve-tracts to the hemispheres. 
There are three pairs of Peduncles on which the small brain hangs : 
ad p. Ad pontem. Connection with the bridge. 

ad III. Ad raeduUam oblongatam. Connection with the Medulla oblongata, 
nd further down with the spinal cord. 

ad If. Ad corpora quadrigemina. Connection with the posterior hill. 
/ c. Locus coeruleus, bluish spot. 
cl. Clava, a club-shaped bundle. 
/. c. Funiculus cuneiformis, being a part of anerve-bundle called " the 
.ope " or corpus resttfoyine . 

; gracili! 

, the continuation of the clava. 
e t. Eminentia teres. A tubercle covering the nuclei 5, 6, 7. 

t, Funiculus teres. 
n a. Nucleus accessorius. 

ob. obex. The bolt, crescent-shaped oblique fibres. 
a c, Ala cinerea, a layer of gray substance of triangular shape. 



from its fancied 

d the Arabian numbers their 
f the medulla, where the nerves 

nters t,he hemispheric part of the 

vhich stands i 

•ith th( 

portion of the fourth ventricle is called calamus 
resemblance to a pen. 

The Roman numbers represent th 
respective nuclei in the deeper lay 

The first nerve is the olfactory, 
brain through several roots. 

The second nerve is the Optic nei 
thalamus opticus and the Four hills. 

These two nerves do not appear in the adjoined figi 

3. Nucleus of the oculo-motor or third nerve is the 
innervation in the most important muscles of the eye. 
the front between the two crura ; accordingly the nervi 
the adjoined cut. Other ocular nerves are the fourth and the sixth. 

4. IV. Trochlear nucleus and nerve. A motory nerve going to thetrochl 
the hollow of the eye innervating the muscle which makes the eye roll. 

V. Trigeminus nuclei and nerve. A nerve rising from 
'iree branches, going to the face, 
reception of sensory impression 

□lain source of mo 
The nerve passes 
; (///) is not visible 

notory i 

well as for th 

6. Adducens nucleus. The nerve, because passing out in front 
third nerve, is not visible in the cut It is a motory i 
muscle that moves the eye toward the side. 

7. ;■//. Facial nerve. A motor nerve for the muscles of the faC( 

8. V'lII. Acusticus nucleus and nerve, the sensory nerve of hear: 

9. IX. Glossopharyngeal nucleus and nerve, a sensory nerve, 
mainly the impressions of taste. 

10. X. Vagus nucleus and nerve, a mixed nerve of motor ai 
fibres innervating the heart and the lungs. 

11. XI. Accessory nucleus and nerve, 
nerves, having mainly a motory characte 

12. XII. Hypoglossus nucleus and ne 
being of special importance in man bee 

pulses as 
, like the 


rve of motor and sensory 

communicating with other 

motor nerve for the tongue, 
?ulates the mechanism of 



have proved that the mechanism of breathing is more 
complex still, for there are some subordinated spinal 
centres which even after the section of the medulla 
keep up certain motions in the thorax. (Proved by Bra- 
chet, Lautenbach, Langendorff, and Landois.) Be- 
sides some superordinated centres have been dis- 
covered in the posterior hill of the corpora quadrige- 
mina (by Martin and Booker) and in the thalamus on 
the bottom of the third ventricle (by Christiani). 


Vaiir.^ISi juart. ~~ ^ . '■^^.yS-^'y--^-" ", ' . '.' .' ! . ' . "!^ VeiUr. , 


NERVES. (Half diagramatic, after Edinger.) 
Showing the complexity of the mechanism in the origin of nerve?. 
a and b are two gray hook-shaped nuclei, the connection of which with the 
oculo-motor is as yet uncertain. 

The action of the heart is regulated chiefly through 
the iiervus vagus and nervus sympathicus. There are 
inhibitory as well as accelerating fibres. An irritation 
of the vagus produces a decrease of the activity of the 
heart, while an irritation of the first pectoral sj'mpa- 
thetic ganglion produces an acceleration. This part of 
the nerve was accordingly called Nervus accelerans 

The reflex motions of the medulla ob- 
longata may, but need not be connected 
with consciousness ; they are of a higher 
and more complex order than the direct 
reflex motions of a simple ganglionic me- 
chanism and are represented in the ad- 
3"-''' joined diagram. 
The medulla oblongata may be considered as the 
seat of the vegetative soul; since a destruction of its 
most important centres will always cause instantaneous 

The medulla oblongata possesses to some degree the 
faculty of adaptation to circumstances as has been 
proved by the famous frog-experiment. A decapitated 
frog in which the spinal cord and medulla oblongata are 
preserved, all higher centres being severed, will scratch 
itself with its right leg, if irritated on the right side of 
its back. When the right leg is amputated, it will 
after a few vain attempts with the stump, try to remove 
the irritant by means of its left leg. 

This experiment proves that the soul does not dwell 
in one part of the nervous system alone ; but that every 
part is endowed with soul-life. Every ganglion is a 

seat of soul-life. The activity of every reflex centre 
is no mere physiological phenomenon. The lowest 
reflex centres of irritable substance possess the power 
of adaptation to circumstances ; the medulla oblongata 
being a higher, a superordinated and more complex 
centre, possesses this in a greater degree than simple 
ganglions. Yet there is one further step needed for 
changing irritability into distinct and definite feeling. 
This is created through the possibility of comparing 
the present irritation with the memories of former irri- 
tations — not only of the same kind, but of all kinds. 
Such a possibility is established in the brain, which is 
the coordinative organ of soul-activity. 

The brain is a storehouse of all kinds of memories. 
All irritations received in the peripheral sense-organs 
are, as it were (to use Meynert's expression) projected 
into the hemispheres. There they leave traces or ves- 
tiges : every different impression leaves a vestige of its 
own ; and these vestiges are living memories, pictures 
of impressions, i. e., structures of a special form pro- 
duced through irritations of a special form. These 
memories are so to say deposited in the brain and 
represent the outside objects through contact with 
which they have been produced. Being representative 
of things or of natural phenomena they are symbols of 
the surrounding world and make cognition possible. 

The mechanism of the brain is so arranged that all 
the different memories are properly interconnected 
thus making a comparison among them easily pos- 
sible. P. c. 



(communicated through s. schindler.) 
My Dear Julian : — Your last letter, although I noticed therein 
your ill-hidden feeling of disappointment and the pain which the 
failure in your journalistic enterprise has caused you, made me 
rather smile than grieve for you. I hope, dear Julian, that you 
will pardon my apparent lack of sympathy, and if you will accept 
from me a fatherly word, there may be a chance that the wound 
which your pride has received may soon heal. The short and long 
of your letter is that, although at your time you had never re- 
ceived a journalistic training, you have ventured to enter upon a 
journalistic enterprise even before you had made yourself thor- 
oughly familiar with our present conditions, and that you have 
failed. Owing to your marvelous appearance among us, we gave 
you something to do which we thought would meet with your 
taste. We thought that as a teacher of ancient history and espe- 
cially of the history of the nineteenth century, you might do some 
good to the community and thus give an equivalent for the support 
the community grants to you. Yet, before hardly a year has 
passed by, before you could have hardly familiarized yourself with 
the needs and wants of our present time you have had the pre- 
sumption — pardon the harshness of my expression— to criticize U5 
and to teach us what we ought to do. Again, owing to the sensa- 
tion which your sudden appearance among us had created, quite a 
number of good-natured people were found ready to subscribe for 



the Trumpet, as you pleased to call your paper. Good-naturedly 
they were satisfied to give you a chance and to hear what you had 
to say to them. If you had ever considered it worth your while to 
ask me about it, I would have told you to leave well enough alone ; 
I would have told you that as little as an Indian, at your time, 
could have been made a member of your civilized society by merely 
taking him from the prairies and dropping him into the streets of 
Boston, so little can a person that has been reared in different 
conditions and under the former system of individualism at once 
comprehend our social conditions, sympathize with them, and ap- 
preciate them ; I would have told you that first of all you ought to 
learn the A B C of journalism ; I would have told you that, although 
every one of us has indeed the right of expressing his opinion, no- 
body must think that his opinion is the nc plus ultra of human 
wisdom or that after he has expressed it the whole world must at 
once become convinced of it. If you then had heeded my advice, 
you would have escaped the ridicule that always attaches to failure 
and the consequent pain caused by the disappointment. You did 
not ask me, but you went to work, got up a subscription-list and 
began to issue the paper. What kind of a paper ? A journal after 
the fashion of the last century and not after the fashion of ours. 
Would you have expected in the year i8go a paper to flourish that 
was issued in the style of the year 1790 ? This misplacement of 
time which we all find quite natural in you has been the sole cause 
of your failure. I do not wonder that the journals as we have 
them do not suit you, and that therefore you desired to establish 
one that would suit your taste better ; but you forgot that the style 
which would suit you because you had become accustomed to it 
must not necessarily suit everybody else. 

At your time, a paper contained four distinct departments. 

1 . The department most interesting to the public was the news 
department. People wanted and needed to know what has happened 
all over the world ; and many more things did happen then than 
do to-day. At your time, columns of a newspaper were filled with 
the description of crimes that had been committed, of wars that 
were waged ; to-day nothing of the kind occurs. At your time, 
people wished to be informed what the members of the aristocracy 
or the plutocracy were doing, how they amused themselves, what 
dresses the rich ladies wore, what summer resorts they were seek- 
ing, etc. Who would care for such trash to-day ? At your time, 
the quotations of the market, the rising and the falling of stocks 
had an all absorbing interest. It was necessary for every business 
man, for every manufacturer, for every capitalist to know whether 
gold has gone down one point or silver has risen ; to-day we have 
no exchange, money has ceased to be the pendulum on the clock 
work of human society and such events do not occur. Whatever 
remains as " News " and what is of interest to the public is sup- 
plied by the " National Bulletin." 

2. The second department of your newspapers and the one 
which interested the editors and the stockholders most was the ad- 
vertising department. Your pronounced individualism and the 
spirit of competition which arose in consequence of it made it a 
necessity to push oneself before the eye of the public ; ' ' Don't 
care for anybody else but buy from John Jones," was the tenor of 
all your advertisements. If people had something to sell or if they 
wanted to buy an article ; if they were seeking help or were want- 
ing employment they had to make use of the advertising columns 
of your newspapers. This, of course, does not apply to us. What- 
ever articles a person wishes to purchase, he can find in our dis- 
tributing department and whatever help is to be employed, can be 
obtained at the National Employment Bureau. There being no 
demand for advertising columns the supply of course has ceased. 

3. The third department of your newspapers was the belle- 
tristic department. It reached its highest development at the close 
of the last century. There was not a newspaper in the land that 
would not supply its readers with stories of all kinds, mostly of a 

sensational nature. The novelists who wrote for a journal were 
told that they must not write stories that contain more than about 
40,000 to 50,000 words, that after every 2,000 words the reader 
must be kept in in order that he may be induced to buy 
the next paper, which was to contain the continuation. This kind 
of newspaper literature flourished because people had absolutely 
no time to sit down and read a book. If they intended to feed 
their imagination they had to snatch away a moment here and a 
moment there; this want the newspaper supplied. People could 
read such a story while they were riding in the street cars, or while 
they were eating their luncheon. As every person was obliged to 
buy a newspaper anyway, if he wished to be informed of the occur- 
rences of the day, the novel which he bought with the paper did 
not cost him anything extra. All this is changed to-day. We 
have our comfortable libraries, we have sufficient means to buy a 
book that we wish to own, and what is more, we have the time to 
read it carefully. Your newspapers struggling for existence were 
obliged to cater to the public taste and to embody in their columns 
all that might induce people to patronize them. In our days, it 
would be considered absurd to cut up a story into a number of 
daily or weekly installments. You complain that you were obliged 
to reject a story that was sent to you for publication on account of 
the tendencies which it contained and which ran counter to the 
supposed sentiments of your patrons. I am astonished that a per- 
son was found indeed who would endeavor to publish a literary 
production in this way and I am rather inclined to think that the 
writer, knowing your antiquated ideas of newspapers, merely 
wished to pass a good .joke on you. 

4. The fourth department of your newspapers was finally the 
editorial department. The editor made use of his opportunities 
and offered to his readers his comments and opinions on all mat- 
ters of public interest. You were accustomed to be awed by 
authority and the editorial of a newspaper of large circulation was 
not taken as the opinion of the one man who wrote it, but as the 
expression of the public itself. Again, because you had no time 
to consider carefully a topic, the editorials, at your time, had to be 
short and brisk. The government, furthermore, was always sup- 
posed to stand in opposition to the public will, even when chosen 
by an overwhelming majority of the people; the administration 
was always looked upon with suspicion, and fault was found with 
almost every step which a president or a governor took. If offi- 
cials pleased a certain party, they could be sure to displease the 
other, and thus as each party had its organ, the editorial columns 
were devoted to a constant warfare for or against the government. 
At your time, this was not more than natural, because every act of 
the government needed careful watching, inasmuch as individual 
interests were at stake. The suspicion was always near that the 
motives of an administration were sordid, and that having come in 
possession of power he would use it to enrich himself at the ex- 
pense of others. All this has been changed, our officials are not 
suspected, they are rather honored, admired, and their work appre- 
ciated by the public. They need not to be watched, because al- 
though the wealth of the whole country is in their hands, they can- 
not make more use of it for themselves than you can or I. The 
trouble with you, my dear Julian, is that your ingrained individual- 
istic tendencies are still blinding you and that on account of your 
early education you cannot understand how a government should not 
need the watching or the criticism of the press. What was a ne- 
cessity and a very good thing at your age has ceased to be so in 
ours. If some of us think that he has a suggestion to make he can 
do so by bringing it to the notice of the superior officer, through 
whom it will reach headquarters, or if he thinks that his proposi- 
tions have not received the proper attention he can publish what 
he has to say in pamphlet form. If it is good it will spread with- 
out much advertising; one will tell the other, and in a short time 
the people will see to it that his proposed reforms are brought 




about. If, on the other hand, his propositions seem good only to 
him and to a few others and will not strike the people as founded 
upon common sense, they will fall flat and be ignored. 

Now, in fact, we have not got newspapers or a press as you 
had them, nor do we need t-hem. We are satisfied to let you have 
your way, but if you have failed in your enterprise, please do not 
lay the blame before our doors, but see to it first whether it does 
not lie with you. 

One more point of your letter I cannot help touching. You 
say, somewhat sneeringly, that a social system once instituted must 
be preserved at all hazards, merely because some time ago it has 
been created. As soon as we shall find that the social order which 
surrounds us ceases to be beneficial to us; as soon as we shall find 
that any individual or any class of individuals is unduly benefitted 
by it while another individual or another class of individuals is un- 
duly debarred by it from happiness, we shall surely change it and 
not hesitate a moment. No, no, my dear Julian, do not borrow 
troubles. Behold what a glorious institution ours is! Learn by 
your own experience! Supposing a person would have come to 
you in the igth century as you came to us, could he have found 
at once a place in which to make himself useful? Or, supposing 
that you, at your time, should have been infected with the ambi- 
tion of becoming an editor, how would you have succeeded at your 
time without a thorough knowledge of the work ? You might have 
undertaken the task, as did many of your contemporaries. As 
you were rich you could have pushed the enterprise with money, 
but supposing you had failed to strike the right chord, supposing 
that your editorials would not have met with public approbation, 
you would have become beggared. With the loss of your fortune 
you would have lost your seat on the top of the coach, you would 
have been compelled to take your turn on the rope and your for- 
mer friends would have had no sympathy with you; at best they 
might have thrown to you a gift of charity. Now, although un- 
successful, you can return to the work tor which you have some 
fitness, and after a time, you may try again to climb upon an edi- 
torial chair. Yours truly, 

Leete, M. D. 

P. S. Mother and myself send love to Edith and the baby. 


Hon. Edward Bellamy, 

Master- Workman of the Labor Army of the United States 
of America 

Glorious great-great-great-great grandson of tlie Legendary 
Author of "Looking Backioard" .' 

Please do not drop this letter into the waste-basket because it 
is anonymous. It calls your attention to an urgent need of the 
time, which if not attended to speedily may undermine our whole 
system of civilization. 

I abhor the barbarism of former centuries and fear nothing 
more than a return to the wolfish state of competition which, if the 
report of our historians be true, prevailed during the reign of 
anarchy upto the end of the nineteenth century. I am anxious for 
the general welfare of humanity which you so generously try to 
promote. Yet I write this letter anonymously because I fear to be 
sent to an asylum for atavism, as so often happens to men who 
venture an opinion that happens to disagree with that of the re- 
presentative men of our glorious nation. 

One of my brothers committed suicide a few days ago in the 
asylum where he had been confined for over thirty years, after the 
physicians had proclaimed him a hopeless case of atavism. His 
ailment was the belief that our nation made rapid regresses in 
civilization. He had been careless enough to declare publicly that 
the state was run by a few bosses in Washington, who proved 

worse tyrants than the legendary Czar of Russia, of whom we read 
in our Readers. He said that he would prefer to live under a form 
of government such as we possessed a century ago. 

The physician said that my poor brother had committed sui- 
cide from mere weariness of life. He used to say that a state of 
perfection like that in which we live is the most monotonous and 
intolerable existence possible. Nothing happens ; there is no pro- 
gress imaginable ; there are no aims for the ambitions of a man 
and he would prefer the Hell of a competitive Society to the 
heaven of a cooperative system where there is no elbow room for 
individual exertion. 

I pity my poor brother. No doubt he was grievously sick. 
But the worst of it is that the disease is dangerously spreading, 
even among the physicians. It must be contagious. The asylum 
of Chicago alone confines 124,783 patients suffering from this par- 
ticular kind of atavism. The figures will soon reach fifty per cent. 
in our State. Happily they are excluded by law from the little 
voting that is done. If that were not so, our government under 
your glorious Presidency would soon be overturned. Yet be on 
your guard ! Matters are growing worse every year. There is an 
annual decrease of the returns in the harvest, and I do not know 
what would become of things, if in this peaceful era our labor 
army were not possessed of a real ovine patience. 

Congress has not met for over thirty years ; and when it met 
last time, it decided in the truly conservative spirit that distin- 
guishes our age, not to meet again during the next fifty years, 
" lest anything be done hastily." 

I propose, dear sir, that Congress be convened before that 
time, and that a bill be passed to allow all those who suffer from 
atavism to emigrate into another country, for, here among us, they 
are a most dangerous element. They will soon form themselves 
into a party, and as soon as we have parties the old barbarism of 
party-strife will begin over again as of yore. Is not party-strife 
one kind of competition ? Now imagine that instead of the present 
order of cooperation, where every man is put in his place, we 
should compete for our places, what a general anarchy would pre- 
vail ! What would be the result, if a farmer allowed his oxen to 
compete as to who should draw the plow and who the dung cart ; 
how could his farm prosper? It cannot be so among civilized human- 
ity. Like the oxen of the farmer every man should be allotted his 
place and should receive as a compensation for his work food and 
shelter. So let it be and so let the state of cooperative humanity 
remain. But be on your guard lest anarchy overturn our civ- 

I remain, dear sir, your obedient servant, 

Chicago, 111., April, 2352. * * * 

[These letters, dating from the twenty-first and twenty-fourth centuries, 
that have been received at The Open Court and now appear in its columns, 
are a decided progress in the mediumistic science. Our spiritualistic con- 
temporaries have hitherto published letters from the departed only. 77;,? 
0/>en Court publishes letters from the generations unborn. Very well ! It is a 
satisfactory proof that The Open Court is a medium through which the Spirit 
of the Future speaks.— Ed.j 



Mr. H. L. Green, in his last letter to the Investigator, says : 
" And 1 here request Mr. Carus, as a ' true Liberal,' as he claims to be. to 
inform the world, first, what he had reference to when he declared that ' the 
mote in Mr. Gladstone's eye was insignificant in comparison to the beam in 
Col. Ingersoll's eye.' Second, to state what he is doing as a 'true Liberal' in 
the ' positive and constructive' line of Liberalism that he would like to see 
Col. IngersoU engaged in." 

These are two square questions, and at once bring us to a 
definite issue. I shall answer both as briefly as possible, and it 
may be that after all we shall come to a mutual understanding. 

First, the negative side of our issue. The remark about the 



mote and the beam was not made in depreciation of Col. Ingersoll, 
whose intellectual and moral qualities I appreciate perhaps no less 
highly than his most enthusiastic admirers. The expression was 
not intended as an insult, but as a criticism ; and no impartial 
reader, unless, like Mr, Green, he had been in a state of excite- 
ment, could have taken the remark in a different sense. 

And now the positive side of my answer. All theologians are 
agreed upon this— that the purpose of religion is and always will 
remain morality. However, there are many among them (we call 
them dogmatic theologians) who deny the possibility of establish- 
ing the moral ought upon a scientific basis. Thus, they believe 
that a supernatural revelation is needed for the support of ethics. 
In this we declare they are mistaken, and their error is the mote 
in their eye. 

Col. Ingersoll has accomplished a great work in exposing the 
superstitions of dogmatic religion. He has advanced the cause of 
humanity by clearing the ground for a purer religion. But if he 
goes so far as to tear down the very basis of society, if he repu- 
diates the necessity of the moral ought, obedience to which is the 
indispensable condition of order, liberty, development of individ- 
uality, and the progress of humanity, we must declare that he 
blindly overlooks the most important factor in the evolution and 
formation of human life. Col. Ingersoll, in his love of freedom, 
goes too far when he proposes to sever every tie that binds us to 
the fulfillment of certain moral rules. As an example of the error 
which I criticize, I quote from Col. Ingersoll's last contribution to 
the Truthseeker on "Destructive and Constructive Liberalism" (a 
reprint of which appeared in the Boston Investigator) the following 
passage : 

" All religious systems enslave the mind. Certain things are demandeti, 
certain things must be believed, certain things must be done, and the man 
who becomes the subject or servant of this superstition must give up all idea 
of individuality, of hope, and growth, and progress." 

Col. Ingersoll has put his thought into words which, as they 
stand, would convert liberty into license, for they establish the 
most unbounded individualism, and deny the existence of any 
moral authority. That "certain things must be done," that "cer- 
tain things are demanded," Col. Ingersoll declares to be a "super- 
stition," "and the man who becomes the subject or servant of 
this superstition," he says, " must give up all idea of individuality 
or hope of intellectual growth and progress." 

It is this error which I call the beam in Mr. Ingersoll's eye. 
It appears to me so gross an error that I cannot believe that Col. 
Ingersoll, when writing this sentence, comprehended its sweeping 
significance. Moreover, it does not agree with many other utter- 
ances of his in which he unmistakably acknowledges the supremacy 
of a moral law that governs the growth of human society. 

The moral law that governs the development of human 
society is a natural law, and we know by experience that when- 
ever it is disobeyed it will cause disorder, and consequent there- 
upon, misery, affliction, unhappiness, and ruin. The moral law is 
a thing, obedience to which is demanded. We maintain that its 
truth can scientifically be proved, and those who cannot grasp it 
must needs believe in it. We cannot disregard it, we cannot ig- 
nore it, but we have to conform to it. Upon a rigorous obedience 
to this law all individuality, all intellectual gro.vth, all social 
growth, the realization of our ideals, and the progress of mankind, 

The recognition of the moral law as an inflexible factor, in 
the nature of things, is the sum total of all that is meant by the 
words "Natural Religion." You may call it, also, the " Religion 
of Sc'ence." It is a religion without dogmas, not based upon a 
special revelation, but upon the facts of natural laws, ascertainable 
and verifiable by science. The presence of the moral law is not a 
new dogma ; it is a scientific truth, as undeniable as the law of 

What I mean by " Constructive Libera'ism " is expressed in 
the two words : Ethical Liberalism . That Liberalism alone which 
teaches us the proper way to live, can be said to be constructive. 
And the rules of right living cannot be derived from our individual 
likes or dislikes ; it is not a matter of private pleasure. The rules 
of conduct must be established upon the unalterable natural law 
that shapes human society — which being the power that enforces 
morality, we may very aptly call the moral law. 

The clergy remain deaf to the demands of Liberalism, mainly 
because they are under the impression that Liberalism intends to 
subvert morality. And can they otherwise interpret Liberalism 
when they are told that no authority whatever ought to bind us, 
and that the pleasure of the individual should rule supreme ? 

Mr. Green asks me what /am doing as a "true Liberal " in 
the " positive and constructive " line of Liberalism. Every num- 
ber of The Open Court is an answer to this question, and in every 
number he will find the truth emphasized that there is but one 
religion, and that is the Religion of Science. And particularly 
what I mean by the mote and the beam is fully explained in No. 


The tenets of The Open Court are firceely attacked by dog- 
matic believers on the one side, and dogmatic unbelievers on the 
other side ; but neither party has as yet succeeded in bringing 
forth any tenable argument against the propositions of The Open 
Court . When I declare that God, if the word God means any- 
thing, means the moral law to which we have to conform, the 
dogmatic believer calls me an Atheist, and imagines that this set- 
tles the question. On the other hand, when I say that the moral 
law (the immanent God) is an abstract idea which, being abstracted 
from reality, represents something real in exactly the same way as 
do all the natural laws, the so-called Liberal declares that I pro- 
pound a mediaeval creed, and attempt to reinstate the antiquated 
superstitions of past ages. 

The abstract idea of gravitation represents something real, 
and we have to adjust the movements of our body accordingly. 
So the abstract idea of the natural conditions in which man 
stands to Nature, and of the sociological law that underlies all the 
relations between man and man, is something real ; and we hsve 
to adjust our behaviour accordingly. 

What humanity wants is a practical, i. e., a purely moral re- 
ligion, based upon facts stated with scientific accuracy and philo- 
sophical breadth. This is the constructive work needed, which, if 
the churches refuse to do it, devolves upon Liberalism. This is 
the constructive work in which I should like to see Mr. Ingersoll 
join hands. Slaying dead ogres and ridiculing stories which no 
man of education — be he ever so Orthodox — any longer believes, 
is a very amusing pastime, but a man of great talents can, in my 
opinion, do better and more useful work. I feel confident that 
Col. Ingersoll is called to greater tasks. 

Let me add one remark in answer to another attack made 
upon me in your columns. 

Some so-called Christians, and also some so-called Liberals 
imagine that they promote the interest of their party by misrep- 
resentations of all views which are not congenial to theirs, and 
they try to support their denunciations by quoting disconnected 
passages, the meaning of which, by a slight turn, becomes easily 
distorted into absurdity. Thus, one of your correspondents ridi- 
cules the idea that form is the soul of thing', and that the soul of 
man is the form of his organism. He adds that roundness ac- 
cordingly would be the soul of an apple. 

In way of explanation, let me add that the form of an apple 
does not mean merely the outside shape, but also the inner struc- 
ture, all the delicate tissues and the arrangement of its substance. 
Form, in this sense, is that which makes a thing the thing it is. 
Indeed, it is a very old truth that the soul of man is the form of 
the human organism. Old Edmund Spenser, the poet, says : — 



"For soul is form and doth the body make." 
But this truth has been overlooked and ignored, and there are 
even to-day many Freethinkers who have no idea of the import- 
ance of form and formal thought. 

Any one who misrepresents the views of those who hold a dif- 
ferent opinion may be a good partisan, but he does not work for 
the progress of mankind, and he will not enhance Liberalism. 
Liberalism, in my mind, is not a party, but a principle,. If the 
Liberals are a sect I do not belong to them. The true Liberal is 
no partisan, but a disciple of truth. Paul Carus. 

Chicago, 111., March i, i8go. 


We are strongly in sympathy with the Societies for Ethical 
Culture, because among all the liberal movements of ethical as- 
pirations they show the greatest sincerity and earnestness with re- 
gard to moral ideals. Yet there is a point of fundamental im- 
portance in which we have not as yet been able to ascertain 
whether we agree or disagree with them. It is the problem as to 
what is the basis of ethics. The solution of (his problem is for 
every one of greatest importance, it must become the corner-stone 
of the ethical movement, and it is concerning this problem and 
its solution that we are anxious to come to a mutual understanding. 

The Ethical Record says; "We think there is some lack of 
clearness as to what a basis of ethics means." 

The basis of ethics is the ' reason why ' man must regulate his 
actions in a certain way, and thus it is the philosophical founda- 
tion upon which ethics rests. The moral ' ought,' which involves 
that which we call good, depends upon the basis of ethics. Our de- 
finition of ' good ' will be different according to the different an- 
swers given to the question, Why must I feel bound by any ' ought ' 
or ' moral law ' ? 

It might be maintained that a philosophical foundation of ethics 
is of secondary importance; the first demand is to obey the moral 
'ought. ' And certainly we admit that action is more than knowledge. 
But let us not forget that ethics if it means anything is the regula- 
tion of action conformablj' to some principle or maxim. The ethical 
man is first of all a thinking man. He acts in a certain way because 
he considers this kind of action as good and another as bad. What 
would ethical action be without the ethical principle by which we 
have to regulate it ? 

Man " considers " something as good, we say. But the question 
is not what a man considers as good. The question is. What are 
good, and what bad, actions? Professor Adler says ; "Concerning 
them (the facts of moral obligation) there is a general agreement 
among good men and women everywhere." This is an ethics of 
mere conventionalism. Moreover, that general agreement is an 
error ; for while the Spartan thought stealing without being caught 
was a virtue the Athenian considered it a shame. Yet Prof. Adler 
limits the agreement concerning these facts as obtaining 'among 
^ood men and women.' This would stamp everybody who disagrees 
from Prof. Adler, as bad ; and that can scarcely be his meaning. 

The answer given by The Ethical Record to the question. 
Why we should act morally ? is ; "We conceive that the ob- 
ligaiion of justice and love is self-evident to rational beings " 
This conception of ethics would be intuitianalism, a theory which 
we thought belonged to the dead past. 

Justice and love are admirable words, but they are too general to 
giv^e a clear idea regarding what they mean. We all agree that justice 
and love must be the impulses of our actions. In the name of 
justice and love the anarchists demand the abolition of all law, the 
nationalists demand the removal of ' wolfish ' competition, thesingle- 
taxer asks for the confiscation of land, and for justice and love 
charitable people feed paupers. How widely different must their 
conceptions of justice and love be ! 

The very same question as to what the basis of ethics in the 
ethical movement may be, is asked by every one who takes an in- 
terest in the ethical societies; and there are many outsid -rs be- 
sides Dr. Abbot who are deeply interested in the matter. If 
the ethical societies do not increase as they ought to, it is, it appears 
to me, because they have no definite opinion, they lack a founda- 
tion upon which to stand, they try to be broad and become vague. 

The Xiitioii in a long and most appreciative review of Mr. 
Salter's book " Ethical Religion," has made, from quite a different 
standpoint, the same complaint that Dr. Abbot presented. The 
reviewer says, after a discussion of not less than three columns ; 

"After all, however, the unsatisfactory thing about these excellent lec- 
tures, even regarded from the practical point of view, is just the vagueness of 
the author's moral theory. 

"To be all things to all men is, indeed, the privilege of an apostle ; but 
to appeal to anything and everything plausible except theology as a support 
to morality — is this enough ? If one leaves behind what one takes to be super- 
stitions in tradition, may not one end in making one's morality itself a super- 
stition ? And if the laymen of the Ethical Societies should chance to note 
such an outcome, what result could be more lamentable ? " 

There is no doubt that the future religion will be an ethical 
religion ; and that which humanity wants is a new basis of ethics, 
viz., the why of the moral ought. Schopenhauer says " to preach 
morals is easy but to place it upon a philosophical foundation is 
diflScult." Moral predigen ist leicht. A/oral begriinden schwer. 

The Ethical Record says ; "The ethical movement has taken 
special pains not to commit itself to the philosophical views of its 
lecturers." The ethical lecturers represent the ethical movement 
and if the ethical movement has taken particular pains not to com- 
mit itself to their views, this is equivalent to saying that it has no 
views whatsoever. The ethical movement, we are informed, "made 
a statement of its aim (in the constitution of the ' Union ' ) after 
mature consideration, and expressly welcomes to its fellowship 
those who sympathize with its aim (the elevation of the moral 
life) li'hatever their theological or philosophical opinions." How can 
we have a common aim in the "elevation of the moral life," if we 
are not agreed upon what a moral life is, if our philosophical 
opinions about good and bad differ ? If the ethical movement 
welcomes people of any creed and of no creed, they cannot expect 
that its members will have the same or even a similar and harmo- 
nious ethical ideal. 

To have an opinion and to dare to be of one's opinion ; to stand 
up for it bravely ; and in case we have not as yet an opinion of our 
own, to search for it and have no rest until we have found it, — 
this is the very first step in ethics, the most indispensable con- 
dition of ethics. The man who has a wrong opinion and holds 
it in good faith is more ethical than he who waives the question. 
How can we, when building a good house adapted to our needs, in- 
vite a'l our neighbors to assist us, whatever be their opinions with 
regard to the plan of the house, with regard to what must be under- 
stood by a good house ? 

Before we commence building let us have a plan. Philosoph- ' 
ical views and also theologies are by no means mere theories hav- 
ing no practical value. They are, or rather they have to become, 
the maxims and regulative principles of our actions ; and any ethics 
without a philosophical view back of it is no ethics, but ethical 
sentimentality. It is like a wanderer in search of a goal, who has 
lost his way and does not care to be informed about the right 

We maintain that dogmatic religion can no longer serve as a 
basis for ethics. In the old religion the "why" of the moral 
ought is explained by the will of God. We are told that God has 
spoken through the mouths of his prophets ; he has revealed him- 
self. We no longer believe in the possibility of a supernatural 
revelation and search for another and a natural reason why we 
should live morally. If the ethical teacher preaches the moral 
ought, every body in his audience has the right to ask the ques- 



tion : " By what authority dost thou sustain this command ? " If 
the moral ought of the ethical teacher is merely an expression of 
his individual opinion, he has no right to preach it to others. If 
he no longer believes in the supernatural God, he must give ac- 
count of that God who gave him the authority to preach. 

The ethical movement, as I understand it, is started because 
dogmatic religion no longer suffices as a basis of ethics ; accord- 
ingly it must lay a new basis that will suffice. If the ethical 
movement refuses to do this, it has no meaning. The leaders 
of the ethical society should not hesitate to commit themselves to 
definite opinions. They should speak out boldly and with no un- 
certain voice. A non-committal policy in the face of other views, 
religious as well as philosophical, is just as good as giving up the 
attempt altogether. 

I find that many clergymen and many Rabbis are very clear- 
sighted on this matter ; they seem to know the needs of the time ; 
they earnestly and judiciously work for a purification of religion. And 
we wish that those who profess to carry out the ideal of the present 
age, namely, the foundation of a purely ethical religion, should not 
remain behind ; they should know, and if they do not know they 
should search for, the ground upon which we are to stand. The 
question, What is the basis of ethics ? is of paramount impor- 
tance to all of us, to the religious dogmatist, to the freethinker, 
and above all to the members of the societies for ethical culture. 
The success of the ethical movement will in the end depend upon 
how their leaders solve this question. 

We should be very much obliged to The Ethical Record if it 
would give us a simple, plain, and unmistakable definition of what 
the leaders of the Ethical Movement understand by good i. e., 
morally good. p. c. 


Among the humorous traits of the American character is our 
affected reverence for law, especially if "order" be coupled with 
it. And yet no other civilized people are so disloyal to " law and 
order " whenever those elements of government become inconve- 
nient or expensive to our own particular selves, our party, or our 
clan. While vehemently proclaiming the duty of all others to re- 
spect the law, we reserve to ourselves the right of disobedience. 
We exempt ourselves by dispensation from the law whenever it 
conflicts with our own interests or inclinations. This indulgence 
we jealously deny to all our neighbors. The American maxim is ; 
" The law was made for you, but not for me," 

When a man declares by word or action that the laws of this 
land are not binding on him, we reprobate him as an anarchist 
and it is astonishing how many laws we ourselves may break, if 
we severely stigmatize as "anarchists" all others who do the 
same thing. When a magistrate, sworn to enforce the law pro- 
claims by his official action that it is not binding on him, and when 
he throws police protection over those who violate the law, is that 
anarchy ? And if not, would it be anarchy if practiced by an 
anarchist ? 

For instance, is this a phase of -anarchy ? April the first was 
election day in Chicago, and the laws of Illinois declare that whisky 
shops and beer saloons must not be open on that day. Under 
sanction of the Mayor this law was ostentatiously defied, by the 
connivance of all police authority in the city. It may be that the 
law is wrong, but that is not the question here. It is enough that 
it was repudiated by the magistrates who have sworn to enforce it. 
There are other laws on. the statute books which are contempt- 
uously overthrown in the same way. 

This calm and dignified abdication of duty presents to us a 
few puzzling paradoxes not easy to explain, as for instance these : 
If a candidate for Mayor should in absolute sincerity declare that 
if elected he would not enforce the law, could he be elected ? 
Surely not. And if on the contrary, he should say earnestly and 
be believed, that he would enforce the laws, could he be elected 
then ? Surely not. In either case he would be defeated by any 
opponent who would promise to enforce the laws with a mental 
reservation understood by certain voting elements that in their be- 
half he would suspend the laws. He must promise one thing and 
mean another, or have no chance at all. He must recognize with 
due solemnity that the beer saloon is the unit of the American 
political system. 

A few days ago the habit of official disrespect for law was 
brought to the notice of Congress. An honorable member offered 
a resolution to the effect that whereas it was reported that in cer- 
tain of the United States courts the judges were in the habit of 
suspending sentences passed on prisoners, and whereas such sus- 
pensions were in violation of law, therefore that a committee of 
investigation be appointed, etc. The humorous feature of this 
resolution is that those unsuspecting innocents known as the Amer- 
ican Congress have just discovered a vicious and illegal practice 
which has prevailed in' the National courts for more than twenty 
years. This usurpation of the pardoning power has become a 
dangerous abuse of law. It is often employed as an element of 
tyranny and corruption. The illegal habit of suspending sentences 
has spread beyond the National courts to many of the State courts, 
and even those cold, hard, and sordid men who preside in the po- 
lice courts, claim the suspending power as part of their preroga- 
tive, a perquisite which they make profitable in many ways. 

M. M. Trumbull. 


We shall publish in our next number two criticisms, from the 
nationalistic point of view, of "Looking Forward," the leading 
article of No. 134 of Tlie Open Court. 

We shall publish in the course of the ensuing week a little 
book entitled " Epitomes of Three Sciences," containing the series 
of essays contributed during the last two years to the columns of 
The Open Court by Professors Oldenberg, Jastrow, and Cornill. 
They are resumes of the three sciences of Comparative Philology, 
Comparative Psychology, and Old Testament History. Professors 
Cornill and Oldenberg have written especial introductions to their 
treatises, and the editor of The Open Court has supplied a preface 
discussing the bearings of these three departments of investigation 
on the intellectual and religious problems of our day. The price 
of the book will be seventy-five cents. (The Open Court Pub. Co.) 

La Revue Francaise, a monthly magazine of literature, art, 
and science, published in New York (39 W. 14th St.), and de- 
signed to meet the demand among American teachers and students 
of French for good French literature, has reached with March its 
third number. It resembles, although much more comprehensive 
in the scope of its selections and less didactic in its methods of 
exposition, a similar periodical in German, Germania, a magazine 
that has been noticed in our columns. We think the Reznie would 
more competently serve the purpose announced in its editorial 
introduction by instituting a separate department devoted to in- 
struction in French grammar and rhetoric. It might also be 
suggested in a spirit of friendly criticism that the sources from 
which the selections are taken be acknowledged, both for the ben- 
efit of the readers as well as by way of recognition to the journals 
in which the articles were originall)' published. But the Revue is 
excellent in its way ; it responds to a legitimate demand, and we 
wish it a large circulation. 

The Open Court 


Devoted to the "Work of Conciliating Religion -with Seienee. 

No. 141. (Vol. IV.— II. 

CHICAGO, MAY 8, 1890. 

j Two Dollar! 
"/ Single Copi< 



Phv.sical religion is generally defined as a worship 
of the powers of nature. We hear it said of ancient 
as well as modern nations that their gods were the sun 
and the moon, the sky with its thunder and lightning, 
the rivers and the sea, the earth, and even the powers 
under the earth. As Aaron said to the Israelites, the 
poets and prophets of the heathens are supposed to 
have said to their people, ' ' These be thy gods. "■ There 
are some well-known philosophers who go even further, 
and who maintain that the earliest phase of all religion 
is represented by people believing in stones and bones 
and fetiches of all kinds as their gods. 

As their gods .' Does it never strike these theorisers 
that the whole secret of the origin of religion lies in 
that predicate (ZJ their gods? Where did the human 
mind find that concept and that name? That is the 
problem which has to be solved : everything else is 
mere child's play. We ourselves, the heirs of so many 
centuries of toil and thought, possess, of course, the 
name and concept of God, and we can hardly imagine 
a human mind without that name and concept. But, 
as a matter of fact, the child's mind is without that 
name and concept, and such is the difference of mean- 
ing assigned by different religions, nay, even by mem- 
bers of the same religion, to the name of God, that a 
general definition of it has almost become an impossi- 
bility. It has led to the greatest confusion of thought 
that our modern languages had to take the singular of 
the Greek plural (^toi, the gods, and use it for 0£o?, 
God. It is quite true historically that the idea of 0£Ob, 
God, was evolved from the idea of 06o/, gods; but in 
passing through that process of intellectual evolution 
the meaning of the word became changed as completely 
as the most insignificant seed when it has blossomed 
into a full-blown rose. Oeos, God, admits of no plu- 
ral ; &soi always implies plurality. 

The problem of physical religion has now assumed 
a totally different aspect as treated by the historical 
school. Instead of endeavoring to explain how human 
beings could ever worship the sky as a god, we ask, 

* From a Report in the London Christian World, copies of which were 
kindly sent us by Prof. Max Mailer. 

How did any human being come into possession of 
the predicate god? and we then try to discover what 
that predicate meant when applied to the sky, or the 
sun, or the dawn, or the fire. Our present concept of 
God e.xcludes fire, the dawn, the sun, and the sky. 
The two concepts no longer cover each other. What 
we want to study, therefore, is that ever-varying cir- 
cumference of the predicate god, becoming wider or 
narrower from century to century, according to the 
objects which it was made to include, and after a time 
to exclude again. 

This problem — and a most difficult problem it is — 
can be studied nowhere but in the Veda, that is, in 
the ancient hymns of the Rig-Veda. I doubt whether 
we should ever have understood the real nature of the 
problem with which we have to deal, unless we had be- 
come acquainted with the Rig-Veda. It is quite clear 
that other nations also passed through the same phases 
of thought as the Aryan conquerors of India. We see 
the results of that process everywhere. In Africa, in 
America, in the Polynesian islands, — everywhere we 
catch glimpses of the process of deification. But the 
whole of that process is nowhere laid open before our 
eyes in such fullness and with such perspicuity as in 
the Veda. 

Deification, as we can watch it in the Veda, does 
not mean the application of the name and concept of 
God to certain phenomena of nature. No ; it means 
the slow and inevitable development of the concept 
and name of God out of these very phenomena of na- 
ture — it means the primitive theogony that takes place 
in the human mind as living in human language. It 
has always been perfectly well known that Zeus, for in- 
stance, had something to do with the sky, Poseidon 
with the sea, Hades with the lower regions. It might 
have been guessed that Apollo, like Phcehos and Helios, 
had a solar Artemis, like Mcne, a lunar character. But 
all this remained vague, the divine epithet applied to 
them all remained uninteUigible, till the Veda opened 
to us a stratum of thought and language in which the 
growth of that predicate could be watched, and its ap- 
plication to various phenomena of nature be clearly 

As illustrating the development of the predicate 
God from out the simplest perceptions and conceptions 
which the human mind gained from objective nature. 



we will take from the Pantheon of the Veda the Deva, 
or god, called Agni, the god of fire. In the Veda they 
could watch that god of fire long before he was a god 
at all; and, on the other hand, they could trace his 
further growth till he was no longer a god of fire 
merely, but a supreme god, a god above all other gods, 
a creator and ruler of the world. 

If you can for a moment, transfer yourselves to 
that early stage of life to which we must refer not only 
the origin, but likewise the early phases of Physical 
Religion, you can easily understand what an impres- 
sion the first appearance of Fire must have made on 
the human mind. Fire was not given as something 
permanent or eternal, like the sky, or the earth, or the 
water. In whatever way it first appeared, whether 
through lightning or through the friction of the branches 
of trees, or through the sparks of flints, it came and 
went, it had to be guarded, it brought destruction, but 
at the same time it made life possible in winter, it 
served as a protection during the night, it became a 
weapon of defense and offense, and last, but not least, it 
changed man from a devourer of raw flesh into an eater 
of cooked meat. At a later time it became the means 
of working metal, of making tools and weapons, it be- 
came an indispensable factor in all mechanical and 
artistic progress, and has remained so ever since. 
What should we be without fire even now ? 

We can well understand how, after the senses had 
once taken note of this luminous apparition in its ever 
varying aspects, a desire arose in the human mind to 
know it ; to know it, not merely in the sense of seeing 
or feeling it, but to know it in the sense of conceiving 
it, which is a very different thing. By calling the fire 
Agni, or the quick mover, the ancient people knew no 
more who or what that quick mover was, than we do 
when speaking of fire as an element, or as a force of 
nature, or as we do now, as a form of motion. 

When the word Agni, fire, had once been coined, 
the temptation was great, almost irresistible, as Agni 
was conceived as an agent, to conceive him also as 
something like an animal or human agent. We may 
now advance a step further, and ask how it was that 
Agni in the Veda is not conceived as an agent only, 
but as a god, or, if not as yet as a god in the Greek 
sense of the word, at least as a Deva ? 

Here we touch at once the most vital point of our 
analysis. Certainly in the Veda Agni was called tieva, 
perhaps more frequently than any other god. But, 
fortunately in the Veda we can still discover the orig- 
inal meaning of the word deva. It did not mean di- 
vine, for how should such a concept have been sud- 
denly called into being ? Deva is derived from the 
root D/V, and meant, originally, bright. In many 
passages where Agni, or the Dawn, or the Sky, or the 
Sun, are called deva, it is far better to translate devahy 

bright than by divine, the former conveying a neutral 
meaning in harmony with the whole tenor of the \e- 
dic hymns, the latter conveying hardly any meaning 
at all. But it is true, nevertheless, that this epithet, 
deva, meaning originally bright, became in time the 
recognized name of those natural agents whom we 
have been accustomed to call gods. We can watch 
the evolutionary process before our very eyes. When 
the different phenomena of nature representing light 
had been invoked, each by its own name, they could 
all be spoken of by the one epithet which they shared 
in common, namely deva, bright. In this general con- 
cept of those bright ones, all that was special and pe- 
culiar to each was dropped, and there remained only 
the one epithet deva to embrace them all. 

Here then there arose, as if by necessity, a new 
concept, in which the distinctive features of the various 
bright beings had all been merged in that of bright- 
ness, and in which even the original meaning of bright- 
ness had been considerably dimmed. 

You will now perceive the difference between our 
saying that the ancient Aryas applied the name of 
gods to the fire, the sun, and the sky, or our watch 
ing the process by which these Aryas were brought to 
abstract, from the concepts of fire, sun, or sky, the 
general concept of Devahood. But though we cannot 
help ourselves translating deva by god, you will easily 
understand what a difference there is from Devaliood 
to Godhood. A deva is as yet no more than a bright 
agent, then a kind agent, then a powerful agent, a 
more than human agent, a super-human agent; and 
then, only by another step, by what may be called a 
step in the dark, a divine agent. 

We must not suppose that the evolution of the 
word deva was the only evolution which gave us in the 
end the idea of divine. That idea was evolved in 
many different ways, but nowhere can we watch every 
stage in the evolution so well as in the history of the 
word deva. Our own word God must have passed 
through a similar evolution, provided it be an old 
word. But, unfortunately, nearly all its antecedents 
are lost, and its etymology is quite unknown. 

Some people maintain that the idea of God is in- 
herent in the human mind, that it is an innate idea, or 
a "precept," as it has lately been'called. Others as- 
sert that it could have come to men by a special 
revelation only. Others, again, maintain that it is a 
mere hallucination that took possession of one man, 
and was then disseminated through well-known chan- 
nels over the whole world. We do not want any of 
these guesses. We have a guide that does not leave 
us in the dark when we are searching for the first 
germs of the idea of God. Guided by language we 
can see as clearly as possible how, in the case of deva, 
the idea of God grew out of the idea of Light, of act- 



ive light, of an awakening, shining, illuminating, and 
warming light. We are apt to despise the decayed 
seed when the majestic oak stands before our eyes, 
and it may cause a certain dismay in the hearts of 
some philosophers that the voice of God should first 
have spoken to man from out the fire. Still as there is 
no break between dcva, bright, as applied to Agni, the 
fire, and many other powers of nature, and the Deus 
Optimus Maxiinus of the Romans, nay, as the god 
whom the Greeks ignorantly worshipped was the same 
God whom St. Paul declared unto them, we must 
learn the lesson — and a most valuable lesson it will 
turn out to be — that the idea of God is the result of an 
unbroken historical evolution, call it a development, 
an unveiling, or a purification, and not of a sudden 

Is it for us to find fault with the manner in which 
the divine revealed itself, first to the eyes and then to 
the mind of men ? And is the revelation in nature 
really so contemptible a thing that we can afford to 
despise it, or at the utmost treat it as good enough for 
the heathen world ? Our eyes must have grown very 
dim, our mind very dull, if we can no longer perceive 
how the heavens declare the glory of God. 

We have now named and classified the whole of 
nature, and nothing seems able any longer to surprise, 
to terrify, to overwhelm us. But if the mind of man 
had to be roused for the first time, and to be lifted up 
to the conception of something beyond itself, what 
language could have been more powerful than that 
which spoke in mountains and torrents, in clouds and 
thunder-storms, in skies and dawns, in sun and moon, 
in day and night, in life and death? Is there no 
voice, no meaning, is there no revelation in all this ? 
Was it possible to contemplate the movements of the 
heavenly bodies, the regular return of day and night, 
of spring and winter, of birth and death without the 
deepest emotion ? Of course, people may say now. 
We know all this, we can account for it all, and phi- 
losophy has taught us. Nil admirari, to admire noth- 
ing. If that is so, then it may be that the time has 
come for a more than natural revelation. But in the 
early days of the world, the world was too full of 
wonders to require any other miracles — the whole 
world was a revelation, there was no need for any 
special disclosure. At that time the heavens, the 
waters, the sun and moon, the stars of heaven, the 
showers and dew, the winds of God, fire and heat, 
winter and summer, ice and snow, nights and days, 
lightnings and cloiids, the earth, the mountains and 
hills, the green things upon the earth, the wells, and 
seas, and floods — all blessed the Lord, praised him, 
and magnified him forever. Can we imagine a more 
powerful revelation ? Is it for us to say that for the 
children of men to join in praising and magnifying 

Him who revealed Himself in His own way in all the 
magnificence, the wisdom, and order of nature, is 
mere paganism, polytheism, pantheism, and abomi- 
nable idolatry ? I have heard many blasphemies, 
none greater than this. 

It has been argued again and again that Natural 
Religion is impossible, that the human mind, with 
nothing but Nature for its guide and teacher, cannot 
arrive at the idea of God. That idea — it is held even 
now by the most eminent divines — must be considered 
either as innate, or as communicated by a special 
revelation. Instead of attempting to controvert these 
two prevalent theories — for, it is clear, that they can 
be no more than theories — the historical school appeals 
to facts. I wish to show that in the ancient records of 
religion we still possess evidence, however fragment- 
ary, that the human mind was able by its own inhe- 
rent powers to ascend from nature to nature's God, 
and, in the end, to the God of nature. If we can 
prove this the final issue cannot be doubtful, for even 
in theological discussions facts are still stronger than 

In answer to those who have recourse to what they 
call innate faculties, or special revelation, we appeal 
to the facts, preserved in the Veda, if nowhere else, 
which show how in India, at all events, the evolution 
of the concept of God is a matter of history, and can 
be watched by us, step by step, from the first naming 
of an agent behind the fire, to the highest expression 
of a God above all gods, a creator, a ruler of the 
world, a judge, and yet a compassionate father. 
When so much is at stake, you will understand that 
we must be extremely careful not to leave any posi- 
tion in our onward march exposed to attack. We 
have many and powerful enemies. For some reason 
or other our opponents claim for their own theories 
the character of orthodoxy, while they try to prejudge 
the whole question by stigmatizing our own argument 
as heterodox. Now, I should like to ask our oppo- 
nents first of all, by what authority such metaphysical 
theories as that of innate ideas can possibly claim the 
name of orthodox, or where they can point to chapter 
and verse in support of what they call either a special 
or a universal primeval revelation, imparting to hu- 
man beings the first concept and name of God. I 
must say that to a student of the religions of the 
world in their immense variety and their constant di- 
visions, the names of orthodox and heterodox, so 
freely used at all times and on all sides, have lost 
much both of their charm and their terror. One learns 
to appreciate, not what for the time being was called 
orthodox by Popes and Councils, but what each hon- 
est man in his heart of hearts believed to be true, and, 
if necessary, asserted to be true in the face of Popes 
and Councils. Anyhow, with all proper respect for 



theories, or confessions, or articles of faith, one learns 
reverence for facts, and it is this true reverence for 
facts which makes accuracy and fullness of statement 
almost a sacred duty to the student of the history of 

It has been shown how the Dawn coming, no 
one knew whence, and opening every morning the 
everlasting gates of the East, called forth in the minds 
of the Vedic poets the first vague intimation of an in- 
finite, of a world beyond this world, nay, of an im- 
mortal life. Under the name of Aditi, the un-bounded, 
she is implored by many poets, by none more touch- 
ingly than by him who expresses a hope that in that 
distant dawn ' he may see again his father and his 
mother.' The storm-wind also, and the hero of the 
.'.-.under-storm, Indra, have been shown to contain the 
same theogonic seeds which in the poetry of the ancient 
world developed slowly, but safely, into the concept 
of a supreme god, the ruler of the world, to be feared, 
to be believed in, to be worshipped by men. But all 
these cases — those of Jupiter, Ouranos, etc. — have 
been so often and so fully discussed by others and by 
myself, that I preferred to unroll before your eyes a new 
picture, showing the history of the Fire from its simple 
beginnings of the burning on the hearth to its final 
apotheosis as the god of light, as an all-powerful, all- 
wise, yet compassionate, god. This one evolution will 
have to serve as a specimen and illustration of all 
other evolutions in Physical Religion. They all land 
us in the end at what I call the henotheistic stage, the 
belief in single, but supreme, gods. That stage is 
often followed by what I call \!a& polytheistic stage, in 
which these single gods are arranged in some kind of 
order, mostly under the sway of one god more powerful 
than the rest, till at last, during the monotheistic stage 
the idea of god is seen to exclude the possibility of 
multiplicity, and the name of God, used in the singular, 
and in the singular only, assumes a meaning which it 
never had before. 

When the light of Agni is spoken of as immortal, 
that need not mean any more than that it lasts forever, 
if properly kept up. We read, for instance, " See this 
light immortal among mortals." (Rig-Veda VI., g, 4), 
This need not mean as yet more than this never-dying 
light. But the fire, as a masculine, or rather as an 
agent, was likewise called amartya, not dying, or im- 
mortal, and the Vedic poets dwelt again and again on 
the contrast between the immortal Agni and his mortal 
friends. Of other Devas also it was said that they 
were not, like human beings, subject to decay and 
death. But while the ancient poets brought them- 
selves to think of an impassable gulf between the 
mortals on one side, and the immortals on the other, 
this gulf vanished again in the case of Agni. He, im- 
mortal as he was, dwelt among men. He was the 

guest of men, often called the immortal among 

Now this expression, 'immortal among mortals,' 
seems at first sight of no great consequence. But like 
many of these ancient phrases, it contains germs wait- 
ing for a most important development in the future. 
We may recognize in that simple expression of an im- 
mortal dwelling among mortals, being the guest, the 
friend, the benefactor of mortals, the first attempt of 
bridging over the gulf which human language and hu- 
man thought had themselves created between the 
mortal and the immortal, between the visible and the 
invisible, between the finite and the infinite. 

Such ideas appear at first sight in a very simple 
and almost unconscious form, they present themselves 
without being looked for, but they remain fixed in the 
mind, they gain from year to year in strength and 
depth, and they form at last a fertile soil from which, 
in later ages, may spring the most sublime concep- 
tions of the unity between the mortal and the im- 
mortal, between the visible and the invisible, between 
the finite and the infinite. 

There is a continuity in all our thoughts, and there 
is nothing more important for a true appreciation of 
our intellectual organization than the discovery of the 
coarse threads that form the woof of our most abstract 



I ASSUME that antecedent to the rise of language, 
social life held men together in herds or tribes. War, 
at that time, was the universal natural state; war 
against animals of other species, as well as against 
neighboring tribes of the same species. It is not im- 
probable that a peculiar sound or call united the mem- 
bers of each single tribe, so that by setting up their 
cry they could call together those who were distant, 
dispersed, or had lost their way, or could mutually 
encourage one another when engaged in battle with a 
neighboring tribe. Let us suppose now that once a 
member of one tribe warned his companions of the 
approach of another tribe, by imitating the call or cry 
of the latter ; we would have here the origin of the 
first human word, for this would be an instance where 
consciously and intentionally an idea had been excited 
in the minds of like and kindred creatures. 

We have thus, in the most natural manner, conduct- 
ed into the province of the human word that which we 
found in the animal state — namely, the call of allure- 
ment, the war-cry, and the call of warning. 

Geiger truly observes that ' ' the thing of greatest in- 
terest to man has ever been man," and seeks, accord- 

* Translated by UKyX from Noir^'s Die Welt ah Entwickclun^ ties Geistes, 
(Leipzig, Veil & Co.) 



ingly, for the oldest designation of language in the 
expression of human acts. But I should be greatly 
surprised if man as an entirety was not earlier obvious 
and noticeable than his single acts, than even his 
most expressive pantomime or gesture. This latter is 
always an abstraction, and it seems to me that, not its 
immediate perceptive knowledge of course, but its 
being comprehended and designated by a word, must 
have involved an enormous antecedent development. 
Man entire, on the other hand, is a perfectly concrete, 
known, and ever recurring fact. Look at the animal 
world. Animals, aside from that which interests and 
affects their sensual life, wherein they are guided by- 
instinct, first of all acquire intelligent knowledge re- 
garding individuals of their own species, their friends 
and their foes, other animals and men. The marmot 
knows his enemies, attacks the dog, assails man and 
tries to disable him. The dog knows his master : the 
dog of Ulysses recognized his master when no one 
else knew him. 

* * 

I now ask the reader to accompany me in the fol- 
lowing course of observation. 

In addition to the instincts of nutrition, movement, 
and the like, which find their immediate expression 
through the life of the senses, there are further pres- 
ent in young animals and men, born in them, certain 
obscure ideas or percepts, and among these ideas is 
found, because it is the most natural of all, the idea or 
percept of beings that are. exactly like themselves. 
Just as the bird builds its nest, so does the infant 
know its mother, who from the beginning constitutes 
its entire world. It conceives, at the very outset, the 
entire external world as constituted like itself (Will 
Over Against Will).* 

The child cries, it gets angry, it has desires, it is 
amiable. Its most natural perceptual idea, therefore, 
is that of a being like itself, the representation of a 
distinct personality, which appears to it as a 
mother administering nutrition, love, and care, is in- 
deed the most important and the most interesting 
of all things about it. The first word that a child 
learns is that which denotes its mother ; that word 

*Asa characteristic instance let me quote the following passage from 
Weitzel's Autobiography. This man, the son of a turbulent period, — that pre- 
ceding the French Revolution,— describes his youthful impressions, in which, 
only as a boy six years old, he indignantly vents his rage against the existing 
social injustices, bewails his own sufferings and his mother's wretchedness. 
He says: " In this frame of mind many a time I went out into the open air, 
and shook my clenched fists at the heavens, uttering imprecations and curses. 
' May God be punished for thi-,* I exclaimed, 'may the Holy Mother of God 
be punished for this! ' Under the impression that the abused divinities were 
incensed at my conduct, I challenged them to destroy me by a blast of light- 
ning: ' Do me some harm,' I frantically eiclaimed, ' kill me if you dare! ' — 
This nai've anthropomorphism brings back to my mind the touching reply of 
Lafontaine's old maid servant to the harsh words of the ecclesiastical zealot, 
who had embittered the last days of the poet's life by sanctimonious austeri- 
ties, but who still expressed his apprehension that the departed one miglit 
after all have gone to hell: " Dieu n'aura jamais Ic courage de Ic damficr." 

bursts forth from its emotional life, from the im- 
pulse of its will, and is accompanied by an actual rep- 
resented image. 

Are we not, accordingly, justified in the inference, 
that the primum cognitum was also the primum appel- 
lafum ? That is, that the most natural, the most intelli- 
gible, and the most interesting percept first and before 
all gave birth to the first word ? 

Among philosophers who have given their attention 
to this subject, this view has been both rejected (Leib- 
nitz) and accepted (Condillac, Locke, Adam Smith). 
Some maintain that the earliest words were proper 
names ; others, that they were nouns appellative. 
Max Miiller decides the question in this way. He 
assumes three stages: the first is where the object is 
designated after some quality or attribute {cavea, cave, 
from Sanskrit root ku, to hide), where, accordingly, a 
general idea is applied to a particular object and be- 
comes its proper name, just as in the case in which a 
man first received the name of Great Head; secondly, 
that this proper name is thereupon transferred to all 
or to many things like it ; and, thirdly, that these 
names are thereby raised to the rank of appellatives 
or names of a genus. 

This solution suffers from the drawback that it is 
not a solution. When Max Miiller says, "The first 
thing really known is the general," we are entitled to 
ask. How came man by the knowledge and the desig- 
nation of this 'general '? To be sure, at a time when 
men were already in the possession of a couple of hun- 
dred words by which they designated acts, qualities, 
and characteristics, they may very naturally have ap- 
plied such roots to the characterization of things — 
called their river, for example, Ach (water) or Rhine 
(the flowing), their sea Saivs (the agitated), their lake 
Meer (originally : a soft, marshy mass). A name of 
this kind might then continue a proper name, or be- 
come an appellative. Even at the present day we 
may understand sea both as proper name and general 
concept, specialized by adjectives : as "the White Sea," 
" the Black Sea. " Permutations of this kind have taken 
place at all times, and are being continually employed 
up to the present day. The " Red one " the "Black 
one " in this sense become proper names ; Tartuffe and 
Eulenspiegel in French are names appellative. The 
magnet (derived from the city of Magnesia) has given 
the designation of " magnetic " to one of the most gen- 
erally diffused forces, qualities — that is attributes — of 

Of this problem I myself shall now attempt a solu- 
tion, and, as I trust, with somewhat better success. 
By two examples I shall briefly illustrate the subject 
as conceived by the eminent men referred to : 
Adam Smith, Condillac, and Locke say: A child calls 
every man papa, every young man uncle or Char- 



ley, or something similar ; hence proper names 

were the original ones. 
Leibnitz says : Children call every person tiian, and 

use most frequently such words as thing, plant, 

animal; hence general terms were the original 

But how easily this contradiction is dissipated 
when we take into consideration the fact that from 
the start there is presented to the child, on the one 
hand, only a limited number of words, and on 
the other, an equally limited number of sensory 
perceptions. Both these classes, now, are mixed up 
with one another; that is, with some one certain word the 
child associates a number of similar sensory percepts, 
which it confounds and interchanges, because as yet it 
does not know their differences. And the words which 
the child most frequently hears from its parents are 
cither very special in character, denoting beings that 
it meets oftenest, as papa, uncle, and the like, or 
words of a very general significance ; which stands to 
reason, since one cannot at once teach a child words 
like "forget-me-not," "rhinoceros," "shoe-maker," 
and so forth. Naturally, therefore, the child arranges 
all the facts of its experience under the head of words 
like those above cited, and since it soon learns 
to distinguish "papa" and "uncle" from all other 
beings, the general terms at the second stage of its de- 
velopment alone remain to it. But no inference can 
properly be dravyn from facts of this kind, because 
we are not concerned here with words invented 
by the child itself, but with others that have been 
communicated to it from a higher stage of culture. 
The child's activity is at first one of generalization ; 
that is, of connecting phenomena that repeatedly 
occur, with some one word that stands at its disposal. 
Only later does it learn to classify and subdivide cor- 
rectly, as when it hears that "the Rhine is a river," 
"the Hudson is a river," "the Mississippi is a river." 
From observations of this sort but one thing can 
inferentially be estabhshed. Namely, this: that lan- 
guage at its origin designated by its first words those 
objects that were the most striking and the most in- 
teresting to man, and proceeded then, by the help of 
these words, to generalize — that is, to attach similar 
things to some single word. The marked importance 
of some object which constantly occurred in some 
particular isolated form, naturally must have led to 
the attribution of some particular name to that object, 
and proper names, accordingly, very probably be- 
long to the oldest words of humanity. 

The science of language has proved that the roots 
from which the words of to-day have risen, originally 
denoted definite acts. But considering the endless 
flux of the meanings of words and of the contents of 
concepts it is very difficult to assert that those mean- 

ings — which are the furthermost limits that science by 
retrogressive inference has reached — were their orig- 
inal primitive meanings; in other words, that the root 
da at its origin meant to bind, gd to go, mar to grind. 
Even Geiger's ingenious hypothesis, that the first 
word originated from the imitation of a facial gesture 
accompanied by the simultaneous utterance of sound, 
is somewhat forced ; for here we miss the element of 
communication, which even in the animal world was 
considerably developed, and from which, doubtless, 
also human speech sprung. 

The single and individual acts of man, as we have 
remarked, are also abstractions, the representation and 
connection o{ which by means of the word cannot be 
put at the beginning, for the cogent reason that in in- 
fant development we observe that the child fixes by 
words only that which is personal and thus of frequent 
recurrence, whereas flitting and transient acts and 
gestures only affect its sensory life, make the child 
cry or laugh, but do not produce calm reflection. We 
are much inclined, therefore, to assign such roots as 
"biting," "grinning," "rubbing," "smearing," and 
so forth, to the second stage of the evolution of lan- 
guage We cannot regard them as the original 

starting-point of language. 

On the contrary, for reasons that have been partly 
alleged, we should rather assume that the names of 
individual men, the names by which they were called, 
and proper names were the earliest words. This, 
moreover, explains a problem that has long occupied 
the attention of the most eminent thinkers ; namely, 
how man, amid the universal fiight of phenomena and 
the concourse of the things of the external world, was 
able to fix and retain the particular, and, at once by 
the aid of the word, to raise it to the general concept. 
This is a faculty so genuinely and purely human ; one 
which we must endeavor to bring home to ourselves 
as distinctly as possible. We listen to the human 
words so naturally imitated by the parrot, or to a dog 
that barks at us and manifestly tries to tell us some- 
thing in his own language ; and all this affords us great 
satisfaction, for we perceive in it, distinctly drawn, 
the line of demarcation between man and beast. But 
to hear an animal (■(7«.f(:/Vz/j/)' utter even a singlch.\xm2X\. 
word, would fill us with dismay. 


* * 

As we have stated, the creation of language, the 
greatest miracle of which consists in the phenomenon 
that amid the universal dissolution and flux of intui- 
tions it isolates by the phonetic word a single percept, 
and by degrees condenses that percept into a mental 
image, as something subsisting by itself, — this crea- 
tion of language can only owe its existence to some 
natural and immediate contingency. It must originally 
have operated with regard to objects whose duration 



stability, and isolation from other natural phenomena 
had been discovered and established beyond the 
shadow of a doubt; whose mental representation, as 
well by means of inner capacity of comprehension 
(innate representative power of things like us) as by 
the constant recurrence of the real object itself, be- 
came so clear, so fixed, and unequivocal, that it could 
be said that like Pallas the representation of this ob- 
ject sprang with the word from the head of man in full 
and complete panoply! But this object must have 
been our companion and homologue man, and hence 
the names by which men were called, their appella- 
tions, were tlie first words* 

But are we able to conceive of a way in which these 
proper names have become actual general names, and 
general concepts thus begun their silent yet continuous 
operations ? I do not believe that this can prove 
so difficult a task. It would suffice that a number of 
such sounds be given, and that the images of the indi- 
viduals thus denoted be constantly called to mind by 
the utterance of the sound ; in such a case, in time, 
some peculiar feature of someone of these objects might 
at the utterance of the word gradually become excited 
in the mind of the hearer and become attached to the 
word itself. I intentionally leave this exposition in 
its present vague and general form, because a person 
cannot be too cautious in speaking of that primeval 
time of transition from animality to humanity, and 
because every advanced step must be made with the 
utmost circumspection. I merely recall to mind, that 
in the case even of people of the present day, bap- 
tismal names are during early childhood usually not 
employed as appellations or names by which children 
are called, but that some name is invented, suggestive 
of some striking peculiarity of the child, or often in 
imitation of some favorite sound uttered by the child 
itself. We might, accordingly, merely reverse the 
process we are considering, by supposing in a given 
individual the presence of some peculiar movement 
of the mouth with a showing of the teeth, and to fancy 
this peculiarity also present in another person, and 
finally, to imagine that the name of ther former (pho- 
netically, perhaps, connected with the peculiarity in 
question) be transferred to the latter individual. In 

* I recently read an observation by Spielhagen in the Gegenwart, which 
harmonizes clearly with my view: "The uninterrupted, rushing stream of 
impressions will change a d widen the old channel that the impressions of 
youth have dug in our thouglit and sensation, and will obliterate the images 
that apparently no longer possess any meaning or interest for us. I say appar- 
ently, for, in reality, such is not the case. Even those who have traveled far- 
thest, those who have been most buffeted about by fate, even those who have, 
risen to the highest pinnacle of fortune, despite their broad range of vision 
and exalted station, will constantly surprise themselves in the act of uncon- 
sciously comparing their present great world with the limited one of their 
childhood and youth, and that they will always class new men and people un- 
der the head of a few categories, based upon a limited number of prototypes, 
which they regard as normal — the few men, namely, who have decisively 
influenced their early lives, or at least have witnessed with interest the evolu- 
tion of their youthful years." 

an hypothesis of this kind we should have the first be- 
ginning of the formation of the concept. What a 
feeble beginning ! the reader will exclaim. But let him 
bear in mind, how faint, upon the whole, are all begin- 
nings in the organic world. It is an unquestionable 
result of modern linguistic research, that the names of 
most animals are derived from colors. The variety 
and heterogeneousness of colors were circumstances 
that very early interested man. Hence may it not be 
legitimate to infer that the appellation of some cer- 
tain man who was distinguished by a certain color and 
thus necessarily brought to mind that color, was in the 
lapse of time conferred upon others who were conspic- 
uous by reason of the same characteristic, and that by 
degress it was transferred to animals, and finally be- 
came a generic name ? 

The Small Brain (or Cerebelluni) together with the 
Bridge {Pons Varolii') encircles the medulla oblongata 
like a thick ring, being thickest at the posterior part. 


Bottom of Fourth Ve 

DORSAL VIEW. (After Sappey.) 

icle, the root of wliich is formed by the cere- 




ots of the auditory nerve, 
■ising from the medulla 

and overlapping in 
right side, 
igs of the clavae are 

: acustica 

3. Left lower Peduncle 
its further progress the uppe • peduncl ?, 

4. Clavae funiculi gracilis, the Clu 
caused through nuclei imbedded in their fibres. 

5. Upper Peduncles, connecting the cerebellum through the red nucleus 
with the posterior hill, the thalamus, and most likely also with the hemis- 

6. Laqueus or fillet, a tract of nervous fibres, originating on the dorsal side 
below the Four Hills. It passes slantingly to a lower part of the ventral side. 
The fillet consists of fibres from the auditory nerve, the trigeminus and the 
spinal cord, the latter part being motory. The others connect the activity of 
their respective nerves with the thalamic region. 

7. Brachia ad pontem, the thickest among the three pairs of bands which 
pass into the cerebellum. It connects the Small Brain with the Bridge. 

The dotted line at the top represents the corpora quadrigemina or Four 

The left and middle part of the cerebellum is cutoff. The gray and whit j 
substance in the interior of the cerebellum is so arranged as to produce the 
figure of a tree, called arbor vilae, the tree of life. 



The Pons overarches, bridge-like (hence its name), 
the medulla in front. It receives in the nuclei of gray 
substance embedded in its fibres, many nerves from 
the pyramidal tracts and thus forms an intermediate 
station between the cerebrum and the lower motor}' 

Some of the nerves that originate here stand in 
relation to the Pons. Thus, the fifth nerve {ti-ige?ni- 
nus') breaks with its motory as well as sensory fibres 
through the Pons ; and a disease in either arch of the 
Pons always affects to a greater or less extent the sen- 
sibility and motility of the opposite part of the body. 

Between the two lobes of the Cerebellum there is a 
narrow central portion which, because of its worm-like 
appearance, is called vermis or worm. The upper 
worm culminates in the monticiilus (mountain), the 
lower worm in the uvula (or grape). 

The names of the different parts of the Small Brain 
may be studied in the adjoined diagrams. 

The functions of the different parts of the Cere- 
bellum are little explored. We know however that 
irritations produce vertigo and rolling motions. Ani- 
mals in which the Cerebellum is injured, show an un- 
certainty in their movements similar to that observable 
in a drunkard. The adjoined pictures (reproduced 
from the Encyclopedia Britannica) show two pigeons; 

Yet all movements are executed apparently without 
consciousness and without the faintest sign of intelli- 


from the one the Small Brain and from the other the 
Hemispheres have been removed. The former shows 
all signs of intelligence : its motor apparatus are in all 
their details uninjured ; yet the power of properly co- 
ordinating the various motions is entirely gone. Thus 
the pigeon lies helplessly sprawled on the ground. 
The other pigeon stands firmly on its feet; it flies if 
thrown into the air ; it walks steadily if through some 
irritation it is made to move ; in a word the power of 
co-ordinating the most complex motions is preserved. 


tReproduced from Edinger.) 
It represents the most important results obtained by Benedict Stilling 
with regard to the paths of the various fibres in the cerebellum. The me- 
dulla has been severed and pulled out of place in order to show the Bridge and 
Small Brain at once. Thus the upper peduncles ^bracliia cerebelti anteriora) 
appear in the wrong place. They must be conceived as belonging much lower. 
They enter the cerebellum at the hole in the middle. (Compare for a cor- 
rection of this displacement the other drawings of the cerebellum.) Little 
additional knowledge upon this subject has been gained since Stilling. 




The Roman numbers i 
The fifth nerve {trige). 

ndicate the nerves in their order. 
iiniis) divides in the Gasserian ganglion (marked s) 
into three sensory branches : 

1. The ophthalmic branch ; 

2. The supra-maxillary branch ; 

3. The infra-maxillary branch ; 
V?n. Motory branch of the fifth nerve. 

C. Lobes of the cerebrum. Hemispheric region. 

The gray layer between the roots into which the first (olfactory) nerve 
divides is called substantia perforata (marked x s). 

Tk, Thalamus opticus. 

h. Hypophysis. Here the optic nerve decussates. Its decussation is called 
chiasma, having the shape of a Greek Chi, 1^. 

a. Corpora candicantia or mammillaria. 

i. Corpus geniculatum interius. 

e. Corpus geniculatum exterius, being the ganglions of the second, or optic 
nerve. The optic nerve divides into two parts, the exterior stands in close 
connection through the corpus geniculatum exterius with the thalamus and 
passes into the anterior Hill of the corpora quadrigemina. The interior passes 
into the posterior Hill. 

tc. Tuber cinereum. 

P. Peduncles of the brain or crura cerebri. 

P. V, Pons Varolii. 

/ a. Anterior pyramid of medulla. The decussation of the pyramidal 
tracts below the pyramids is plainly visible. 

0. Olivary body. 

C. N. First cervical nerve. 

c. I. Lateral column of spinal cord. 

c.a. Anterior column. 

C. e. Lobus lunatus anterior of cerebellum. 

C e'. Digastric lobe of cerebellum. 

Jl. Flocculus or tuft, a small lobe of cerebellum. 



To tlu Editor of The Open Court : — 

In T/:e Open Court of the 20th ult. there appeared a very 
lucid, strong article to a great extent in annihilation of Mr. Bel- 
lamy's social dream. As a well constructed fortalice of conserva- 
tism it was doubtless widely admired, and its sharp-cut lines must 
have assured many of its inherent strength. Beauty of form is 
always attractive, and when combined with good material is often 
taken as a guarantee of intrinsic worth. 

But new buildings, however externally fair, must before occu- 
pancy be tested. " It is truth only," justly declares the article 
referred to, "that can make us free." What avails height of in- 
tellectuality, breadth of purpose, and beauty of execution, if the 
foundations be unsound ? 

' ' There comes a dreamer who flatly proposes to abolish the 
law of gravitation." This assertion regarding Mr. Bellamy's pur- 
pose constitutes the key of the whole article, and, if it be true, 
then were Mr. Bellamy indeed an idle dreamer. But it is not 
true. Illustrations, symbols, form perhaps the most convincing of 
all arguments, but they must have more than a mere specious re- 
semblance to their prototypes in order to abide. 

In other words, competition, which it is true Mr. Bellamy 
wishes to see abolished in its cruder form, is here taken to have an 
exact parallel in gravitation ! In what way can " the force which 
aggregates masses and resists the separation of masses," or gravi- 
tation, be compared with competition, which is defined as "a 
common strife for the same object "? Gravitation is an aggregat- 
ing force, competition is a separating force. To use Grant Allen's 



terminology : the first is a force, the second an energy. Competi- 
tion cannot for a moment be compared with gravitation, except 
in so far as both are laws of nature. 

Thus, in trying to do away with competition, Mr. Bellamy 
does not propose to abolish gravitation, and the arguments founded 
on this rash illustration fall to the ground. But neither does he 
seek to "abolish " competition as an energy or as any law of na- 
ture, which is probably what was meant by the illustration. Very 
sacred to science is that basic struggle for existence in which com- 
petitive energy is the chief factor, but Mr. Bellamy would not 
disturb the sanctity of the principle ; he would only carry its pro- 
cess — its mode of action — a little further. 

The Open Court has always been an ardent champion of scien- 
tific progress. No later than No. 135 an admirable article on " Na- 
ture and Nurture" contained a complete vindication of Mr. Bel- 
lamy's theory. Yes : competition is, indeed, the method of nature, 
but nurture transforms competition into co-operation. The two 
methods are not, evolutionally, opposed — but sequent. When com- 
petition by nature has done its work in evolution, then its energy 
is commuted by nurture, and becomes known as co-operation. 

That this is so will be granted from everyday experience. The 
large "trusts" of the hour, the public school and kindergarten 
systems, the concentration of wealth in the form of syndicates, of 
labor in the form of unions, and so forth, are all so many proofs of 
the irresistible tendency of developed competition to co-operate. 
Energy is a constant quantity. The scientist's "struggle for life" 
goes on, but gradually, the meaning of " life " expands. From mere 
"material existence" it becomes "soul-existence" through the 
medium of " mind-existence." The article, which, has called out 
this rejoinder, well remarks: " The people perish from want of 
knowledge." But how can they acquire knowledge absorbed in 
the slavery of material acquisition ? Without prejudice to the 
more sublime fruits of the " mind-existence " and " soul-existence," 
Mr. Bellamy would seem to be both scientific and logical in first 
endeavoring to ameliorate the present "physical existence" or 
brute struggle for life. 

"Mr. Bellamy depicts a state of society where there is no 
competition." No competition ! It is a hard saying. But again 
an illustration may help us. Consider the case of a man who has 
worked hard and successfully for a competence. He has brought 
all his competing forces under control — organized them to cooper- 
ate — to this end, and at fifty retires from business. Supposing him 
not to have become developed ' ' one-sidedly " he nqw begins to 
enjoy life. All material cares for the future have vanished, but 
does he stagnate and die, i. e., is existence impossible now the 
material struggle is past ? Luckily we have many examples to the 
contrary. The physical nature relieved, the man's force is now 
directed toward the further development of his intellectual and 
moral nature. He pursues knowledge and wisdom unfettered, and 
the race is proportionately benefitted by the amount and quality of 
that emancipated and concentrated force. Millionairism only 
compiles material for executive wisdom, which will be content 
with a simple competence as "the wages of going on " with its 
work for humanity. 

But the writer of the paper " Looking Forward " is really, if 
he knew it, on the same side with Mr. Bellamy. He says : " Give 
the poorest a citance to acquire as good an education as the richest 
commands," How can he get a chance when his barriers are mate- 
rial wealth ? Thanks to partial co-operation the poorest can now 
acquire a common school-education, but can he go to college, can 
he mix with cultivated society, travel, study ? No, he must work 
for material subsistence ; any leisure goes to recuperate force ex- 
pended in that direction. Yet when some future day announces 
that sufiicient material has been extorted for "mere life," then a 
sufficient proportion of intelligence will have become developed to 
remove this common barrier of progress. 

To sum up : It would rather seem that competition corresponds 
scientifically to natural selection, but natural selection becomes in 
time nurtured selection. The parallel of nurtured selection is co- 

One last word as to Mr. Bellamy's social scheme. National- 
ism's role would appear to be the wide introduction of the prin- 
ciple of co-operation ; but the first work of co-operation will doubt- 
less be the establishment of a thorough scientific, liberal education 
for one and all. Thus will the value of that at present unknown 
instrument, leisure, be appreciated — utilized for progress — instead 
of being wasted or misused. Only the truly educated can properly 
use leisure which is the first fruit of co-operation. L. d. a. 


To the Editor of The Open Court .— 

Dear Sir : Your article entitled " Looking Forward," which 
by the way is of the same name as a pamphlet of mine, is positively 
marked in the number sent me March 20th, I presume to attract 
my attention, as the article is in direct antagonism to my views on 
Social problems. I take the pencil mark in the spirit that a bull 
does when a red flag is flaunted before his eyes Because I am 
under the impression that it was intended that I should. I pre- 
sume that one of the main points on which we differ is this : You 
are under the impression that life must be a battle, in which the 
race is improved by the survival of the fittest. The fittest, of 
course, at present, is the one best adapted to succeed in the com- 
petitive struggle. The meaner the man engaged in production the 
cheaper he can put goods on the market. Such a man will hire 
women and children instead of men, will invent fines to rob them, 
use shoddy and evade liabilities, and put goods on the market 
cheaper than an upright honest man who did not grind the face of 
his employees. We all know that following the golden rule in the 
competitive system would lead you directly to the poor house. 
I claim that the kind spirit of emulation substituted for wolfish 
competition would make the nobleman (instead of the villain) the 
fittest to survive. But when you come to realize the tremendous 
productive power that inventions have given to humanity and 
know for a certainty that all might have the necessaries and luxu- 
ries of lite with no more labor than is healthful exercise (if the 
dead-lock on production was removed and all were to assume 
their share of the burden of society), then we become convinced 
that life need not be a battle, and the race would be no better if it 
were developed as high in that direction as a bull-dog. The Open 
Court says, " let us be fair to our enemies." There is no need for 
having industrial enemies. Also " let us adapt ourselves to nature, 
let us break down artificial barriers between man and man." I 
am so sorry that he does not undertake to say what the artificial 
barriers are. We socialists do, we say, private ownership in land, 
and competitive system ; we say that the machinery of production 
must belong to society, because there are hundreds of factories 
shut down, and hundreds of thousands of idle men anxious to run 
the machinery in those factories to produce the wealth they need. 
But Private Enterprise says : you must not produce the things the 
people need, because they have not any money with which to buy 
them, and it will cause an overproduction. For at present produc- 
tion is limited not to needs of the people but to their purchasing 
power, and as long as they are kept idle and receive no wages they 
will not have purchasing power. And this is the short-sighted im- 
becility that is the cause of undeserved and unnecessary destitu- 
tion right in the midst of a possible deluge of abundance ; for it 
can be demonstrated that we have the power and the will to pro- 
duce a great many times more of the things we need than we can 
consume, and as long as production is limited to the purchasing 
power, more men will be thrown into idleness, and the purchasing 
power diminished, until destitution is the lot of all who are not 
drawing rent and interest. 



The temperate and industrious man who cannot find employ- 
ment is in an awful position. So-called civilization is his des- 
perate enemy, it has placed him at a far greater disadvantage 
than the savage in the wildwood. The savage is not dependent on 
his fellow-man for the privilege to live, for the land and all na- 
ture's bounties are free and open to him, and stand securely be- 
tween him and starvation. Whereas the so-called civilized man 
finds the land all pre-empted, and is robbed of these opportunities, 
and has nothing between him and starvation but cold humiliating 
charity or suicide. There are thousands of willing workers travel- 
ing the streets for thousands of miles pleading for the privilege 
to toil. When their clothes are good they get refused, when they 
are worn out they get refused and abused. If hunger compels 
them to steal, they are not the enemies of society. But society is 
their desperate enemy. C. Orchardson. 


[in reply to the two foregoing letters.] 

A Clergyman who preaches in any one of our dogmatic 
churches is responsible to his superiors, to the Council, the Synod, 
or perhaps to a Bishop ; but no one of his audience would be 
allowed to rise after he had spoken and criticize his sermon. How 
different it is with the religion of science ! As a preacher of the 
religion of science I have no superior, there is no bishop above 
me, no council, no synod ; but every one of my audience has the 
right to ask, " Is it the truth which thou propoundest, and are the 
commands which thou teachest founded in the nature of things ? " 

In conformity with this right a few among my audience have 
risen and have sent in their protests against my doctrines. I am 
arraigned for having taught wrong ideas that will lead astray, 
and here I am to defend myself ; and if it be found that I am 
wrong, I shall abandon my case and join him who teaches the 

The letters of both my accusers are different in character, 
and they present their arguments differently. They cannot be 
disposed of with the same answer. So let me treat their objec- 
tions separately. 

Mr. L. D. A. is a man of lofty aspirations. He has a warm 
heart and fights like a brave soldier for the ideals of humanity. 
Yet he does not understand why competition can be compared to 
the law of gravitation. He says : 

" Gravitation is an aggregating force and competition is a separating 
force. To use Grant Allen's terminology : the first is a force, the second an 

Mr. L. D. A. should have left Grant Allen's theory out of 
our discussion. By chance I happen to know Grant Allen's theory, 
which is one of the most ingenious devices I have ever met with it 
has only one fault and that is, it does not agree with facts. Mr. 
Allen confesses in a prefatory ' ' Apology " that he had sent his book 
"Force and Energy," before it appeared in print, to several spe- 
cialists. He continues ; 

at my lucubrations: those 
itly contradictory criticisms, 
lat was already known, and 
it was diametrically opposed 
lementary ignorance of the 
ill candidly plead guilty." 

'■ Not many of the specialists, I fear. lookec 
who did returned me one or other of two appare 
Some of them said my theory was only just w 
universally acknowledged. Others of them said 
to what was already known, and betrayed an t 
entire matter. To the ignorance thus imputed I 1 

Gravitation, I am told by L. D. A., is an aggregative force 
and competition is a separative force. This is not correct. The 
very name competition means "a striving together." Is it not 
competition that builds our great cities ? and in the cities is it not 
again competition that crowds the competitors together in especi- 
ally favored quarters ? Mr. L. D. A defines competition as " a 
common strife fcr the same object." Very well ! Is that not an 
aggregative force just as much as gravitation ? Every gravitating 

particle upon the earth gravitates towards the very same point in 
the centre of our globe. This, however, is only part of the com- 
parison. The most important resemblance is that both are natural 
laws which can never be abolished and if they could be abolished, 
they would throw the whole world into chaos. Gravitation shaped 
our earth and competition produced our civilization. 

I do not intend to be one-sided ; so I will confess right here, 
that competition alone is nothing without its twin brother co5pera- 
tion. Both have grown simultaneously and we may fairly expect 
that in future times also they will increase and decrease with 01 e 
another. In a state of society where there is little co-operation, there 
is little competition. Competition grows in intensity with coop- 
eration, and supposing we lived in Mr. BelUmy's state of com- 
plete co-operation, competition would be scandalously fierce. Sup- 
posing there were in the na'ional carpenters' shop the position 
of a carpenters' boss vacant, how many do you suppose would com- 
pete for the place ? Perhaps several thousand, and one only could 
be appointed. 

A friend of mine once held a position in the German govern- 
ment. But he was noted for his liberal views. The German gov- 
ernment is such a complete co-operative machine that the competi- 
tion for advancement is simply frightful ; and if it happen that a 
man trained in a certain branch of governmental service be for 
some reason discredited with those who run the machine, he must 
despair of ever getting along, for there is no " free" competition 
which would allow him to look for an engagement in a similar 
establishment and still less would he have a chance of making 
himself independent. 

Competition, it is true, forces the price of manufactured ar- 
ticles down to its lowest level, but it keeps us awake and urges us 
to progress with our times. 

I remember that on a visit to a friend of mine who was em- 
ployed in a large chemical manufactory, a great excitement arose 
because a rival establishment had thrown goods on the market for 
eight dollars which had cost one hundred and two dollars before. 
There was no doubt that a new and important invention had been 
made to manufacture the very same article that much cheaper. 
There was but one alternative, either to make the same or perhaps 
a similar invention, or to give up that branch of manufacturing for 
good. I was later oil informed that they had succeeded in their 
work, and humanity was benefited thereby. 

Co-operative manufacturing which has not to look out for ri- 
vals does not progress — a fact sufficiently proved by the stationary 
methods of production in all state monopolies. The manufacture 
of tobacco in France is carried on in exactly the same way year 
after year, and the cigars made to-day are in shape and qualitj' 
exactly the same as they were before. Every smoker of re- 
fined taste gladly pays a royalty to get American or German ci- 
gars. If we change all the manufacturies of a country into state 
monopolies, if we annihilate competition, we nip progress in the 
bud, and while business might become — a consequence still to be 
doubted — as easy-going and as comfortable as a well endowed mi- 
nastery of yore, it is certain that the whole country would sink in:o 
a state of general stagnation. 

Competition is at present the bugbear of social politics. It 
depicted as the Moloch that devours our children, and its usual 
epitlielon ornans is " wolfish." 

Wolfish competition ! How savage that sounds. The word 
reminds me of a prominent professor whose name was Wolf. He 
was known as a just but severe examiner, and whenever a student 
failed it was said that the wolf had eaten him. When Professor 
Wolf heard of this saying, he said: "Never mind, I eat the 
sheep only." 

I knew a lady who, some years ago, determined to make a 
living by teaching foreign languages, with which she was well ac- 
quainted. Yet she was greatly afraid of competition, and es 

2 26o 


tablished herself as a teacher in a small town o£ Western America. 
There was no competitor within perhaps a hundred miles around, 
and there were many desirous of studying French and German. 
But the pay she received was only twenty-five cents a lesson. 

Let me adduce another instance of a different character. A 
professor of Italian came to one of our eastern cities where an old 
Italian music teacher had monopolized all the Italian, that, as he 
thought, could possibly be studied. The arrival of the young pro- 
fess3r aroused the indignation of the old gentleman, for there 
was no room for both Abraham and Lot : one of them had to 
leave. The young professor gave lectures on Dante and Petrarch, 
and excited so much interest in the language of these poets that the 
old gentleman became busier than he ever had been before and 
both teachers could scarcely satisfy the demand 

I learned a lesson from these experiences, and it is this ; An 
able man or woman should not be afraid of competition, for after 
all wolfish competition like Professor Wolf eats the sheep only. 

Let us not be frightened by wolfish competition. It is better 
and nobler than it appears For what does it mean else than the 
right to work and to try one's best among other workers ? 

I believe in co-operation as much as in competition. Society is so 
complicated an organism that I can only sustain myself by coope- 
ration. I perform some special work in order to help others, and in 
my turn I am again helped by them. Yet the co-operation in which 
I believe, is radically different from Mr. Bellamy's co-operative 
ideal. The co-operation in which I believe does not exclude free 
competition ; but Mr. Bellamy's co-operation is expressly proposed 
to suppress, to supersede competition. Annihilate the right of com- 
petition, which means that every one may freely exert his abilities 
and earn the rewards of his industry — abolish the right of compe- 
tition and you destroy freedom. Let us have more co-operation of 
any kind, if you please, but may a gracious fate preserve us from 
the Bellamitic state of a co-operative labor army, where we shall be 
ordered about like a Prussian Grenadier and where the foundation 
of our independence will be gone— the liberty of work and the free- 
dom of enterprise. The fate of humanity, whether gracious or not, 
will indeed preserve us from the realization of a Bellamitic Utopia, 
for Mr. Bellamy's theory is a beautiful picture, beautiful to the 
taste of Nationalists ; but it has the same little fault as Grant Allen's 
most ingenious theory : it does not agree with facts. 

Mr. L. D. A. says that competition corresponds scientifically 
to natural selection, but natural selection becomes in turn nur- 
tured selection — " nature is changed into nurture," into an artificial 
culture, and "the parallel of nurtured selection is co-operation." 
If natural selection changes into artificial selection, the natural 
law is by no means altered, nor can competition, if Mr. Bellamy 
' ' carries its process — its mode of action — a little farther " be 
changed into its contrary. Artificial selection is nothing but nat- 
ural selection guided by a special purpose ; it is a selection in 
which the natural forces can work in one direction much quicker 
than they would do if not interfered with. Artificial selection is no 
abolition of natural selection or turning its process into its con- 
trary ; it is rather a more concentrated and fiercer kind of selec- 
tion. In a similar way competition will be more and more con- 
centrated, it will in the further progress of mankind become rather 
more concentrated than it ever was. 

But now I must prepare for a dangerous attack ; Mr. Orchard- 
son says he takes my article " in the spirit that a bull does when 
a red flag is flaunted before his eyes." The bull raises his horns, 
and if I am not on my guard he will gore me and trample my 
body under foot, 

Mr. Orchardson speaks about hundreds of factories that are 
shut down, because private enterprise says : "you must not pro- 
duce the things the people need, because they have not the money 

to buy them, and it will cause an over-production. " "At present, " 
Mr. Orchardson says with emphasis, "production is limited not to 
the needs of the people, but to their purchasing power." Did Mr. 
Orchardson ever consider that the purchasing power represents 
the amount of energy that humanity can devote to the production 
of a special article ? 

Mr. Orchardson wants production regulated according to the 
needs of the people. That is a magnificent idea, the extent and 
grandeur of which Mr. Orchardson does not seem to be conscious 
of. The enviable savage, he tells us, "is not dependent on his fel- 
low-man for the privilege to live, for the land and all nature's 
bounties are free and open to him, and stand securely between 
him and starvation." Who would not like to be a savage on these 
terms ! Yet it is a pity that this ideal savage life is nowhere to be 
found. Does Mr. Orchardson not know that the wretched Indians 
who constituted the sparse population of this country not so many 
decades ago, suffered from famine every third or fourth year and 
several of their tribes actually perished from starvation ? I read, in 
an account of the Amazon Indians, that among ten children scarcely 
one will live to maturity— in spite of all the bounties of nature 
that surround them. Production is there not limited by competi- 
tion to the purchasing power of the people. Why do the savages 
in their enviable state not regulate production to their needs ? 
Simply because production is naturally always limited to the power 
of production which in a civilized state is represented by the pur- 
chasing power. 

The needs of people are unlimited, and to regulate production 
according to the needs of people would be an extremely difficult 
task. Do not the Amazon Indians need all the things which we 
enjoy now, and do we not need many more things, which we cannot 
under present circumstances produce. 

" An industrious man who cannot find employment is in an 
awful position," says Mr. Orchardson. Certainly he is. Yet a man 
who is unable to work because he is unable to adapt himself to 
some useful work that is wanted, is in a worse condition still. The 
former may ard probably will find employment after some time, 
but the latter il he find a hundred employments, will be fitted for 
none of them. Such a man will think that the world uses him 
badly, while it is he who does not understand how to use the 

It is not true, as Mr. Orchardson contends, that the villain only 
can survive in the struggle for existence. I admit that many a 
noble-hearted man may fail in his endeavors by imprudence or 
misfortune, but it is certain that the villain will always go to the 
wall. The man " who grinds the face of his employees," "who 
evades liabilities, uses shoddy," and does other mean things, will 
not succeed in the competitive struggle. Let an employer try to 
run his business according to these principles, which as Mr. Or- 
chardson supposes will ensure his success, and we shall see how 
long he can stand it. The business man who never " evades lia- 
bilities, never uses shoddy, never grinds his employees " — except 
when they do not attend to their duties — I am sure will best succeed 
in life. 

It is true that some employers try to get as much work for as 
little pay as possible from their working men. They are mistaken. 
It is much wiser to pay them duly, punctually, and rather a little 
above the market price of their labor than below. Thus the em- 
ployer will be able to select the best men for his work. And a 
good man for twenty dollars a week is much cheaper than a bad 
man for fifteen dollars. 

On the other hand there are working men who think that they 
ought to give as little and as bad work as possible for wages that 
ought to be as high as possible. They are also mistaken. A working 
man should receive and must demand fair wages ; if he shirks 
work, he cannot expect to advance in life or gain credit inthe eyes 
of his employer, so as to make his employment permanent. 



I should advise him rather to give higher returns in vifork than 
his wages are worth. At least I have always tried to act according 
to this principle and I do not think that I have fared the worse 
for it. 

There are many things that ought to be different in this world 
and I can distinguish two kinds. First, there are evils and incon- 
veniences which can be altered and to alter which is our duty. 
But there is another class of evils, i. e., the things which appear 
most unpleasant to many of us, and this other class is conditioned 
by the natural state of things. Such things are death and birth, 
the necessity of work in order to live, and many other contin- 

A very pious farmer used regularly to pray in the following strain 
whenever a child was born to him : " God, my Lord, you know 
that I admire all your work, and that I find no fault with crea- 
tion. But permit me to take one exception to an ordinance of yours : 
the way in which man is born. Why could you not have babes 
brought by the storks as was customary in the age of fairy- 
tales ? Or why couldn't you make them giowon trees like apples, 
or have them hatched from eggs like little chickens. Good Lord if 
these thoughts are sinful, please forgive me. I cannot help them ! 

We may find fault with the nature of things, but there is no 
use praying for a change. We cannot alter natural laws. Of 
course we can better adapt ourselves to natural laws. Civilization 
is nothing but a better adaptation to nature ; it is not the abolition 
of nature ; it is not a superseding of her ordinances, but a pru- 
dent and wise accomodation to the inalterable conditions of na- 
ture. The form of competition ma"y be altered ; competition will 
vary according to circumstances, but it will be as little superseded 
as the law of gravitation. 

Mr. Orchardson prays that production should be regulated 
not in accordance with our power to produce but with our needs. 
So would I pray if the prayer were not mere loss of time, and I 
can assure Mr. Orchardson that I have more needs than Mr. Bel- 
lamy can satisfy in his loftiest imagination. But I have thought 
it best not to hanker after mirages but to attend to mj' most urgent 
needs and try to do some work that might have a selling value 
so as to keep myself and my family alive with the compensation I 
receive for it. 

We all agree that society can be better than it is. Therefore 
it is my most favorite enjoyment, a kind of high luxury, to work for 
human progress. But while I aspire for progress I observe that 
the worst among the many barriers that have to be removed be- 
fore we can progress is the tendency to dream. Any one who 
expects relief through the hope of a fool's paradise, will never rid 
himself of his ailments. 

Mr. Orchardson asks what I mean by the artificial barriers that 
are to be removed. Artificial barriers are those that prevent free 
competition. Institutions that create monopolies, or conditions 
that limit education to the rich classes prevent free competition. 
If these barriers are removed, competition will be fiercer and will 
make it impossible for an aristocracy of wealth to maintain their 
advantages without being worthy of them. 

The very nature of life is strife. Strife appears in the savage 
state as a sanguinary warfare, and in civilized society during times 
of peace as competition. Even children animated with the kindest 
and tenderest feelings cannot even in mere play go along without 
some kind of strife or emulation. 

It is not the abolition of strife that we can hope for, it is only 
its humanization. And indeed it is good that we cannot abolish 
strife, for striving means living for some purpose, and living with- 
out some purpose, higher than the mere enjoyment of life, would 
render existence worthless. Competition is the cornerstone of 
free enterprise and free enterprise is the condition of progress. 


To THOSE who are learning the things which are behind,' and 
pressing forward to things which are before, the moral atmosphere 
is full of new and exciting elements. 

The winter in this section has had its usual polite diversions. 
Emerson-Browning clubs, Greek plays, enacted by the demoiselles 
of our modern Athens, gropings in the dust of Egyptian tombs, 
centuries old, here engaged the dilettante. 

The votaries of reform in civil government have been constant 
and earnest in their public efforts, to maintain their cause, in the 
face of insults from the U. S. Congress, and the indifference of large 
numbers of the American people. 

The young people are learning how to play their part in so- 
ciety by practice in the management of Lend-a-Hand, Good- Will. 
and Good-Work, — Christian-Endeavor, Kings-daughter, Kings- 
lamb, and other juvenile clubs. 

The churches have passed again through the annual peniten- 
tial season, and are entered on Easter days, the gladdest of the 
year. The call for change of creed-statement, whether voiced in 
conventions, or only as yet a mental cry, is still felt. 

The ferment in Presbyterian synods has not yet made a, 
breach in the walls of that sect. The hope of reforming from 
within is well sustained. 

Dr. Martineau's words in England, "I am no more a Unita- 
rian than I am a Trinitarian," would abolish the lines between all 
Christian sects outside of the state church. So far, in this country, 
his words have had small circulation. 

There is evidence that the Episcopal sect is moving more 
generally than any other, on " the new works of new days." One 
of its ministry, tired of the formal prayer " for all sorts and con- 
ditions of men," singles out the Czar of the Russias for his pray- 
ers and efforts. He questions whether this nation is not justified 
in withdrawing diplomatic relations from a man who tramples on 
every human right, not only in the face of the laws of enlightened 
humanity, but of the laws of his own land. 

Another, the founder of the Brotherhood of the Carpenters, 
joined the call of the mass meeting for Russian sympathy in 
Faneuil Hall, March 31st. He was the only Christian minister 
of Boston present. The Rev. John Brown, missionary to the 
Spinners of Fall River, was the only other representative of the 
Christian ministry present. 

The several rectors of the churches in and about Boston have 
formed an association for the scientific study of the Hebrew and 
Christian Scriptures. Not many months ago, Dr. Phillips Brooks 
of Trinity Church, in his service to the students of Harvard Uni- 
versity, expounded the twenty-third Psalm after the old fashion, 
i. e., how, under the soft influences of sky and cloud, and the re- 
poseful occupation of a shepherd, David developed the devout feel- 
ing and expression of the twenty-third Psalm. Had Dr. Brooks first 
visited the sheep ranches and shepherds of South California, in 
their dreary monotony and silence so terrible that to continue long 
in the occupation is to efface the capacity for speech, it might have 
occurred to him that like conditions produce like results. He might 
have seen in the shepherd of California the shepherd of the Beth- 
lehem hills. Sheep herding does not produce poetry of any kind. 
Does war and bloody rapine produce it ? No man, adulterous, de- 
ceitful, and bloodthirsty as David was, could have written any of 
the Psalms. The scientific study of the claims of David to be the 
Sweet Psalmist of Israel leaves nothing of them. They are 
Israel's psalms, not David's. 

Andrew White in the Popular Science Monthly, in his ' ' Pro- 
gress of Science" papers, perpetuates the error concerning the 
" Psalms of David." Such indifference to error shows that the 
Bible has not yet, neither with the theologian nor the scientist, 
come under the laws of literary criticism, but is still treated as 
sacred even in its errors. 



In the Unitarian sect, while the error treated of here is ac- 
knowledged by the scholars, it is taught at least until a recent 
date, in the papers distributed in the Sunday-schools. The elimi- 
nation of error, so important to the astronomer, has some im- 
portance when it concerns the text-book of the Christian religion. 
This club for the scientific study of the Bible is a considerable 
straw, which indicates a change in the use of the book. It will 
indicate a still greater change when the clergy can publish the 
full results of iheir study to the people. 

A recent translator of the psalms, one of a liberal faith, de- 
clared that he dared not use the corrected spelling of the word 
Jehovah — Jahveh — in his work. He feared the people would not 
accept the change as they had invested the incorrect form, Jeho- 
vah, with so much religious awe. So he made a note to his work, 
in fine print, in which he wrote the correction. Secular school 
boards are less timid. The Wisconsin School Board rules that 
the Bible, as a text-book of history, is entitled to a place in the 
public schools. Now, if a revision can be had, containing, with- 
out exception, every well established emendation of it, its presence 
in the common schools will prove an advantage to society. A 
common knowledge of it will in time remove the unreasonable 
prejudice against those who are accustomed to read it, and teach 
it from the latest and most honest versions. The principle of the 
Roman Catholic Church, that the people cannot safely b'e trusted 
with the common and incorrect version of the book has a ground 
of reason. 

A dominant note now heard is that of the organization of 
Labor. " Dinna ye hear the pibroch, Donald "? Pipes at Luck- 
now, or call of Sumter were child's play compared to the great 
Labor demonstration throughout the world in behalf of the eight- 
hour working day. 

The World's Socialist Labor Party by nightly lectures and 
discussions in its local sections, bears a large part in the work, 
which is directly educational. Nationalists for the nation, Chris- 
tian Socialists for Christendom, and the Socialists for the world, 
are working in full accord toward a better condition for wage- 

Eighty thousand working men in New York City, two hun- 
dred thousand in Paris, the hives of Belgium, one million and a 
half of Socialists voting at the recent German elections, thousands 
in Austria, Italy, and Spain are moving. Even the Russian peas- 
ants are not yet so crushed that they do not respond to the spirit 
of the movement. 

American working men, in convention at St. Louis, developed 
the plan. French working men celebrating the centennial of the 
fall of the Bastile, embraced it, and it has now circled the globe. 
We will trust that like the storming of the Bastile, it is no 
mere revolt against bad conditions, but that it will move a revolu- 
tion toward better ones. 

According to Carlyle the Bastile like the walls of Jericho 
succumbed to sound. May the sound of the tread of the world- 
army on the march, by its rythmic vibrations, bring down the 
Bastile which Might has built about Right ! It is possible that 
the Socialist's ideal of society may come in the Old World first. 
When Herbert Spencer visited America, one of his surprises was, 
the light esteem in which the average American holds his liberty. 
The foreign worker has sought eagerly to emigrate to this country 
only to reap disappointment at witnessing the crimes here com- 
mitted in the name of liberty. His warning and his protest have 
been ungraciously thrown back upon him, by all whose ease and 
security were threatened by any change for the better. 

Would it not silence forever the boast of American freedom, 
if France or Germany should be the first of the nations to achieve 
the emancipation of her wage-serfs ? Mary Gunning. 

Waltham, April 22, 1890. 

[Mrs. Gunning, it seems to us, is mistaken in her opinion re- 
garding David. We shall not discuss the problem whether the 
twenty-third psalm is a hymn dedicated to, or composed by David. 
Nor shall we enter into a disquisition a prnpos of the comparison 
of the life of a shepherd nation, such as Israel was to a great ex- 
tent in David's time, and the life of a California cowboy. We 
shall here confine ourselves to a few remarks concerning the pas- 
toral poet of Israel. 

In spite of all his faults, David was a man of moral aspira- 
tions. We must not forget the barbarous age in which he lived, . 
illustrated by the atrocities committed by his enemies as well as 
by his friends. David always tries to be just towards his enemies, 
and never takes advantage of a situation that would stamp his 
action as cowardly or mean. He spared the sleeping Saul who 
had gone forth to seek his life. He does not prosecute the house 
of Saul, and he punishes those who hope for a reward for the 
commission of murder. When Abner was slain by Joab, David 
made amends as well as he was able, and gained the confidence of 
Israel by his spirit of impartiality and justice. The sins of David 
were bad enough, but they were no worse than those that any 
other person of his time in his position would have committed 
Yet his good qualities were rare, and it is his virtues that secured 
his success in peace and in war. If Israel had had more Davids 
and no Solomon, the fruit of one of his sins, the house of Judah, 
would have met with a nobler fate in history than it did. — Ed.] 


Archdeacon F. W. Farrar writes an entertaining essay on 
" Literary Criticism " in the May Forum. 

Dr. Schoenfeld has begun in the Revue Belgique a series of 
excellent articles on " The Spain of the Arabs." (C. Marquardt, 
Brussels ) 

From the Huuiboldl Lihiary of New York (28 La Fayette 
Place), we have received the following reprints: "Modern 
Science and Modern Thought," in two parts, by S. Laing, price 
forty-five cents ; " The Modern Theory of Heat, and the Sun as 
a Storehouse of Energy," illustrated, by Gerald Molloy, price 
fifteen cents ; and " Utilitarianism," by John Stuart Mill. 

In the Ameriian Naturalist for the few past months Mr. P. 
E. Stearns has presented an interesting collection of instances 
of " The Effect of Musical Sounds on Animals." The American 
Naturalist constantly demonstrates by the variety of its contents 
that its " devotion to the natural sciences in their widest sense " is 
a fact. (Ferris Bros., Publishers, Phila.) 

A new biological magazine has appeared : Zoe, oublished 
monthly, in San Francisco. It will deal particularly with the nat- 
ural history of Western North America, and will afford a medium 
of communication between the world and the activity of profes- 
sional and amateur naturalists. We judge and hope that its ca- 
reer will be a successful one (Zoe Pub. Co., P. O. Box 2114, 
San Francisco ; Subscription Price $2 00 a year.) 

The debate between Mr. Charles Watts and the Editor of th : 
Halifax Evening Mail, entitled " Sscularism — Is it founded on 
Reason, and is it Sufficient to Meet the Needs of Mankind ?" has 
been printed in pamphlet form (price twenty-five cents) by the 
Secular Thought Publishing Co., of Toronto. The pamphlet is 
prefaced by introductory letters from George Jacob Holyoake and 
Col. R G. Ingersoll, in which Mr. Watts's presentation is char- 
acterized as the best statement of the subject obtainable. Mr. 
Watts is to be congratulated upon his able and lucid exposition of 
the cause of Secularism. (Toronto, Canada.) 


The Western Unitarian Conference is now in session at Chi- 
cago : during the day, in All Souh Church ; during the evening, in 
the Oakland M. E. Church. 

The Open Court 


Devoted to the "Work of Conciliating Religion "with Science. 

No. 142. (Vol. IV.— 12 ) 

CHICAGO, MAY 15, 1890. 

J Two Dollars per Year. 
I Single Copies, lo Cts. 


The political, religious, and intellectual growth of 
humanity constantly produces changes in the condi- 
tions of society, and in times of rapid progress these 
changes may become so great as to demand the read- 
justment of our institutions of government, the refor- 
mation of church and school, and the reconstruction 
of our fundamental conceptions of the world and life. 
When the necessity, therefore, for readjustment and 
reformation becomes keenly felt, problems arise. 
Thus we speak of the social problem, the educa- 
tional problem, the religious problem, and many 

The religious problem results from the rapid ad- 
vances made by science. Our religious conceptions, 
it is now generally acknowledged, can possess value 
only if they are recognized in their moral importance. 
Their dogmatic features are coming more and more to 
be considered as accessory elements, which can, and 
indeed often do, become injurious to the properly re- 
ligious spirit. 

The moral rules which we accept as our maxims 
of conduct in life, must have some basis to rest upon. 
We demand to know why and to what end the single 
individual has to obey certain commands, to observe 
which may sometimes cost great self-sacrifice. The 
old orthodox systems of religion cannot answer this 
question at the present daj' with the authority which 
the blind and unasking faith of their adherents for- 
merly attributed to their utterances; and we are there- 
fore brought to the task of remodeling our religious 
conceptions, in order to make them harmonize with 
the present altered situation. 

The religious problem has been solved differently 
by men of different stamp. The orthodox theologian, 
of course, denies the existence of a religious problem. 
Being stationary he has not progressed with his time ; 
he knows nothing of evolution, and looks upon the 
advances of science as steps towards depravation. 
He would solve the problem by checking all further 
progress, and would keep humanity down to the level 
of his own littleness. 

The iconoclast, on the other hand, solves the prob- 
lem by extirpating religion altogether. Like Dr. 
Ironbeard, in the German legend, he frees his patient 
from pain by a plentiful dose of opium, that lulls him 

to eternal rest. It is a radical cure. Kill the patient 
and he will cease to complain. 

The religious problem of to-day does not mean 
that we doubt the ten commandments. We do not 
object to the behests: "Thou shalt not steal," 
"Thou shalt not kill," "Thou shalt not bear false 
witness against thy neighbor." Nor do we object to 
the Christian ideals of Faith, Hope, and Charity ; we 
do not oppose the rule, " Love thy neighbor as th) - 
self." The religious problem means that we have 
ceased to believe the dogmas of the church. We 
have ceased to look upon God as a person who made 
the world out of nothing, and governs it at his pleas- 
ure. We have ceased to believe in miracles ; we 
have ceased to believe in the supernatural and in the 
fairj'land which, according to the dreams of former 
ages, existed in heaven beyond the skies. 

So many illusions fell to the ground when the light 
of science was thrown upon them ; but the moral 
command, " Love thy neighbor as thyself," did not. 
Science has destroyed the mythology of religion, but 
it has left its moral faith intact ; indeed, it has jus- 
tified it ; it proves its truth, and places it upon a solid 
basis, showing it in its simple and yet majestic 

Science teaches that harmony prevails everywhere, 
although to our blunted senses it often may be diffi- 
cult to discover it. Science teaches that truth is one 
and the same. One truth cannot contradict another 
truth, and when it seems so it is because we have not 
found, but will find, the common law that embraces these 
different aspects of truth which to a superficial in- 
spection appear as contradictory. Science further 
teaches that the individual is a part of the whole. 
The individual must conform to the laws of the All, 
not only to live at all, but also to live well — to live a 
life that is worth living. 

The properly religious truths are not the dogmatic 
creeds, but the moral commands ; and it is their scien- 
tific and philosophical justification which is demanded 
by the religious problem of the present age. The so- 
lution of the religious problem must give us a clear 
and popular conception of the world, based upon the 
broadest and most indubitable facts of science so ar- 
ranged that every one can understand the necessity of 
conforming to those laws which have built human so- 



ciety, and make it possible for us to live as human be- 
ings a noble and worthy life. The solution of the 
religious problem will most likely do away with many 
sectarian ceremonies and customs, it will enable us to 
dispense with certain narrow views and antiquated 
rites, which many, up to this hour, look upon as the 
essentials of religion. But it will not do away with the 
moral law; for we know that that will never pass 
away. It is the moral law which Christ and the 
Apo-stles again and again declare contains the essence 
of all their injunctions : for the whole law is fulfilled 
in one word, even in this, "Thou shalt love thy 
neighbor as thyself," and "This is the love of God 
that we keep his commandments, and his command- 
ments are not grievous." 



The evils of intemperance can hardly be exag- 
gerated, but intemperance is a relative term. If we 
could persuade our bibulous fellow-citizens to devote 
the early morning hours of their holidays to gymnas- 
tics, we might rely upon it that the evil effect of their 
evening amusements would be confined chiefly to their 
purses. Till we can diminish the vice itself, it might 
do no harm to diminish its power. 

But we could even strike at the root of the evil if 
we should succeed in rekindling that gymnastic enthu- 
siasm which in the time of Xenophon was the master- 
passion of a refined and high-minded nation. For, at 
bottom, the foolish resort to intoxicating drinks is 
nothing but an attempt to pacify the demands of an 
instinct which neither advanced civilization nor far- 
gone wretchedness can ever suppress in the human 
soul : the craving for excitement. Man is an emo- 
tional animal, and in all ages and under all circum- 
stances the human spirit has yearned for a diversion 
from the everlasting sameness of daily drudgery, and 
that yearning must be either satisfied or stupefied. 
The Greeks satisfied it with athletic games the Phoe- 
nicians with commercial adventures, the Romans by 
conquests, the Scythians by bear-hunts, and the Tartars 
by man-hunts. The modern Orientals stupefy it with 
opium and their western neighbors with alcohol. Our 
estimable reformers have tried to cure the evil in their 
own way and the quietistic effect of their prescriptions 
is not wholly lost, but there are moments when the 
elder instincts of our soul awake : spirits that refuse to 
be exorcised with homilies; and in such moments our 
necessitous brethren go to the rum- shop, to palliate a 
pang that defies the panaceas of our physical and 
metaphysical pharmacies. 

' American Aug 

The demand for moral prophylactics will compel 
our children to cultivate the art of making virtue more 
attractive than vice : of superseding evil by harmless 
amusements. The home missions of the twentieth 
century will encourage out-door amusements. Some 
of our wealthiest cities have parks, but they are too 
circumscribed in area and regulations. Seventy or 
eighty towns which forty years ago were satisfied with 
lard-oil lamps and a weekly gazette, have grown into 
cities in the West-European sense of the word ; but 
their interior development is trifling in comparison 
with the metamorphosis of their environs. For every 
acre of ground covered with the handiwork of the 
brick-layer and stone-paver hundreds of square miles 
have been deruralized. Jungles and forests have be- 
come farms, the hillsides are occupied by orchards and 
the riversides by factories, lumber yards and fenced 
pastures. Within a large circuit of every great city 
land is money-; there are no playgrounds left. 

The Peabodys of the future will vie in the endow- 
ment of city parks, where our children can recreate 
their limbs, as well as their lungs, climb trees, jump 
ditches and chase each other through the underbrush 
without fear of being chased by the park-police, and 
where bowling greens, free music, botanical and zo- 
ological curiosities and competitive gymnastics shall 
counteract the attractions of the gin-shop. 

Mountain-ranges are the archaeological deposito- 
ries of nature. Botanical and ethnological curiosities 
which have long vanished from the lowlands are still 
found in the mountain countries of the old world ; 
cedars on Lebanon, Numidian oaks on Mount Atlas, 
tribes of a primeval hero-race in the Caucasus, abo- 
riginal Basques in the Pyrenees, and mediaeval repub- 
lics in the Apennines. In the New World, too, a few 
tribes of the Autochthones will survive in the high- 
lands. At the headwaters of the Hiawassee River a 
few hundred Cherokees monopolize an out-of-the-way 
corner of the State of North Carolina, where there is 
no arable land to speak of, and where their next 
neighbors do not envy them the emoluments derived 
from such sources of income as berry-picking and 
basket-weaving. In Oregon a tribe of the Bannocks 
has a similar reservation in the solitude of the Siski- 
you Mountains, and in New Mexico a few dozen fam- 
ilies of the Pueblo Indians cultivate their maize on a 
lonely plateau of the Sierra de los Mimbres. 

With such exceptions, the race of North American 
aborigines will have disappeared before the end of the 
twentieth century. By that time game will be rather 
scarce. Squaw-power will have no chance against 
ten-horse power steam-plows ; in the lowlands every 
square mile of arable land will be tilled and improved 
by the picked agriculturists of the progressive nations 
— Teutons, North-French, Hungarians, Scandina- 



vians, and a few West Slavonians. The agricultural 
states of North America will be as thickly populated 
as the best farming-lands of the Old World ; but im- 
migration will continue till the population of the two 
continents has reached its practical equilibrium, i. e., 
till the larger resources of the New World have 
ceased to outweigh the larger number of inhabitants. 
After that a further influx of Eastern refugees will re- 
sult in a reflux, or in an overflow toward the reclaim- 
able portion of the South- American swamp-lands. 
The restored fertility (by tree-culture, etc.) of the 
great central plateau may for a while revive the cur- 
rent of westward emigration. But before that time 
the climatic influences of our different states will ex- 
ert their ethnological effect. The Anglo-Saxons of 
Dixie will lose their ancestral characteristics, as the 
Lombards did in Italy, and the Visigoths in Spain. 

They will become more eclectic in politics, and in 
morals more tolerant, in manners free, but aesthetic, 
in religion conservative — in a word, more easy-going. 
Belief is easier than inquiry. Political explosions, in 
Mexico, are easier than law-abiding consistency, easier 
than moderation and self-denial for the sake of prin- 
ciple. Even now the family-feuds of Kentucky and 
South Carolina seem to inaugurate the vendetta of an 
American Italy. Cool rationalism already gravitates 
towards the cooler latitudes. Boston and Chicago 
will remain the headquarters of speculative free- 
thought, but the chief pontiff of an American hie- 
rarchy will probably establish his court at New Orleans. 
The fine arts, too, produce their best fruits in a genial 
climate. The "Mother of Presidents" will add a 
Vancluse to her Monticellos ; her sons will preside in 
the art-schools and musical academies of the future. 
Historical analogies would justify the prediction that 
the founder of a romantic school of American poetry 
will emanate from the Southwest — Nevada or Cali- 
fornia, where an Italian climate unites its inspirations 
with the grand scenic influence of the American Alps. 
The age predicted by F. G. Halleck, when 

" We shall export our poetry and wine," 

will probably harvest both crops on the same soil. 
That soil may also produce the germs of some new 
form of fanaticism. Nearly all emotional creeds have 
originated in the South, the founders of northern 
sects having generally contented themselves with 
pruning the exuberant branches of such tropical 
plants. The "Latter Day Gnostics, " as Karl Vogt 
calls our spiritualists, will transfer their dark cabinets 
to the selvas oscuras of the Magnolia states, and rely 
on the perennial summer of the South to attract the 
spirits of Summerland, and on Southern chivalry to 
overlook the impersonations of an occasional Katie 

The romance of the Jesse Jameses should flourish 

chiefly in the neighboring deserts of the Rio Grande 
basin. There is somehow a causal connection between 
treeless countries and brigandage ; deserts seem to 
develop stilletto-bristling picaroons as naturally as 
thorns and thistles. Syria, Greece, and Northern 
Italy have produced the finest varieties, and the seed 
seems to adapt itself to the climate of Texas and 
Northern Mexico. The Rinaldinis of the twentieth 
century will date their manifestoes from the Staked 

But the North will remain the chosen home of po- 
litical and speculative freedom, of inventive skill, of 
the mechanical sciences and the " faculty of reform." 
And there will be need of the latter talent. The time 
is not far when the products of our Mother Earth will 
cease to suffice for the wants of her children with 
their present household system. We waste about as 
much as we use. Our fields are full of weeds. Four- 
tenths of our tilled fields are devoted to the produc- 
tion of worse than useless stimulants. The sparrows 
on the housetops are the chief beneficiaries of our 
fire places, since four-fifths of the caloric escapes 
through the chimney. Our clothes benefit the weaver 
more than the wearer. We shift with annuals where 
we could have perennials. Few cultivators develop 
half the possible resources of their soil. 

When the world's population per square mile of 
arable ground shall have reached its apparent maxi- 
mum, famine will teach us a lesson or two, and the 
most important amendment in the agriculture of the 
future will be the substitution of arborescent food- 
plants for herbs. Cereals and hundreds of herbs have 
to be re-planted, re-cultivated and re-fertilized, year 
after year, and nearly all the products of that infinite 
labor could be derived from trees that take care of 
themselves, and improve with every season, while 
yearly crops exhaust the soil unless its productiveness 
is preserved by crop-rotation and artificial fertilizers 
that involve additional toil and expense. The Corsican 
farmers make very good bread of chestnut-flour. South 
of the Alps a chestnut tree will outlive three human 
generations, and a grove of those trees (bearing nuts 
as large as pigeon-eggs) will produce 3000 bushels of 
farinaceous material where the best Illinois corn- 
farmers could not produce one thousand. Chestnut- 
flour might be improved both by chemical and horti- 
cultural means, and the castanea vera is not the only 
bread-yielding tree. Asia Minor produces several 
varieties of sweet-acorn oaks and one nut-bearing coni- 
fer : the pistachio-pine that furnishes palatable surro- 
gates for cereal breadstuffs. In pleasantness of flavor 
no cane-sugar or syrup can compare with the saccha- 
rine products of the Turkish sugar-plum. The finest 
rock-candy can be made out of oranges, sugar-pears, 
dates, figs, and Spanish cherries. The maple thrives 



in the coldest latitudes of our northwestern territories, 
and in the Californian Sierras they have a sugar-pine 
that will yield as much as forty gallons of thick syrup 
per tree. Olive-oil might take the place of all other 
vegetable fats. In ancient Athens they used to sell 
it at two drachmas (about 30 cents) per amfhora of 
four or five gallons, and the California plantations 
might make it cheaper than butter. A cow has to be 
milked twice a day and fed the year round on the pro- 
duce of at least two acres of pasture land, while one 
acre of Sicihan olives yields a ton of their sweet oil in 
one harvest day and take care of themselves even on 
poor land in all but the dryest seasons. The seed of 
oil-producing annuals has to be sown every spring. 
A cow isn't worth much after the twentieth year, but 
an olive tree will live two centuries, and according to 
Prof. Marchetti, occasionally even half a thousand 
years. In the North beech-trees could be cultivated, 
and perhaps improved, for the same purpose. With 
the same amount of artificial selection that developed 
a Delaware peach from the small almond-like fruit of 
the eastern persico-trees, the beech could be made to 
bear nuts as large as a plum. Bauvi-7volle, the Ger- 
man word for cotton, means literally tree-wool, and 
several tropical trees, especially the Bombacea, could 
furnish that material in every desired quantity. Bom- 
bax-wool is almost as fine and strong as silk, and the 
length of the fibre might be improved by cultivation. 
If we must befuddle ourselves, Kirsch-wasser is as 
effective as rum, and less expensive. In the fiower 
season cherries, chestnuts, and the perennial jessamine 
make better bee food than clover. The pods of the 
carob-bean, or St. John's bread {^Miviosa silica), are 
more nutritive to cattle than turnips, and the tree is 
as productive as our honey-locust. Orchard-trees that 
hardly require any cultivation could keep every family 
in fruit the year round. Several varieties of Scandi- 
navian apple-trees will thrive in northernmost Canada. 
On a square mile of ground planted with such trees 
five hundred persons could live at ease where one 
hundred subsist now only by the hardest labor. By 
tree destruction man has forfeited his earthly paradise ; 
tree culture will reconcile him to nature. A time will 
come when the great secret of this earth, the genesis 
of the desert — almost equivalent to the exegesis of 
evil — will become a familiar fact. That time will form 
a turning-point in the physical history of our planet. 




We have spoken of the part that appellations and 
proper names very probably plaj'ed in the formation 

* Translated by yluK from Noire's Die IVelt ah Entwiclielung: des Getstes. 
(Leipzig, Veit & Co.) 

of language. I leave it to the reader to follow out 
the hypothesis I have advanced, and shall only com- 
pare my theory with those that other philosophers 
have propounded, to point out wherein it differs from 
theirs and wherein it may be justified in opposition to 

(i ) In Herder's otherwise ingenious theory the 
element that occasions and forcibly produces speech- 
utterance is entirely relegated to the background. 
We cannot see what could have induced man to imi- 
tate the bleating of the lamb, and to attach the concept 
of the lamb to that imitation. According to this the- 
ory, primitive man must have been a meditative philo- 
sopher, an embryonic scientist; but this, surel}', he 
was not. 

(2) The theory of proper names upheld by Con- 
dillac, Adam Smith, and the rest, bears throughout 
the stamp of the eighteenth century, which with its 
customary subjective bias attributed to primitive man 
the reflective powers and intelligent purpose of later 
eras. According to Adam Smith two savages are sup- 
posed to agree in denoting a pond, a tree, and a cave 
by a given peculiar sound, and later to have con- 
ferred these proper names upon other objects. But 
even a tacit agreement of this character, the very per- 
ception, in fact, of the pond or tree as independent 
beings, required a capacity of thought that could be 
the result only of centuries of employment of speech. 

(3) Geiger's theory — incontestably the profound- 
est of all that have hitherto been advanced — is based 
on the fact of science that in all languages the object 
is never immediately translated into the word, but 
that concept is in every case evolved from concept, 
and sound from sound. "Even proper names," says 
Geiger, "were all originally words that had a mean- 
ing." As far back as the science of language leads us 
to the most primitive meanings of roots, from which 
all words have been formed, these roots denote some 
human act plainly exhibited in gesture or attitude. 

When we take into consideration the fact that lan- 
guage unquestionably originated in the necessity of 
communication (the parent of speech), it does not seem 
impossible that a sound summoning men to some 
work or other may have been the first word, as yet of 
very indefinite content, but which afterwards through 
various similar sounds became differentiated. But just 
the most important element of the soul of language 
is here lacking — that tranquility which is so necessary 
to reflection and the incipient fixation of percepts. 
Cries of this kind are and will remain interjections, the 
essential office of which is to bring about an immedi- 
ate effect without the help of any further representa- 
tion, especially as they are enforced by perfectly sig- 
nificant gestures, which in themselves constitute a suf- 
ficient language. 



Proper names are, to be sure, words of a meaning. 
But if we recall to mind the particular occasions upon 
which at the present day we are led to designate a 
being by a name — to repeat, as it were, the primitive 
process of creation — we shall find that it is upon the 
occasion of the millions of cases in which we bestow a 
proper name upon a man or animal. The fact that 
among the thousands of proper names from certain 
plausible motives we should pick out just this or that 
name ; that the Indian should call his offspring Sleeper, 
Runner, or Cat — this does not in the least detract 
from the importance of the fact. Thus, when for a 
long time we call a child by some endearing name, 
like Da-da, Be-be, or Ja-ja, we actually bestow upon 
the child a new name, suggested by some correspond- 
ent peculiarity. We have, therefore, thing and name, 
and not concept from concept. This point must not 
be underrated. It clearly speaks, in addition to the 
reasons previously adduced, in favor of the primitive- 
ness of appellations, or names by which individuals 
were called. Once again let me repeat that the rep- 
resentation or percept of a congeneric being is the clear- 
est of all perceptual representations : the calling bird 
possesses it as distinctly as it does the innate percept 
of its nest. The perception of limbs, of parts, or of acts, 
is an advanced abstraction. But the percept and 
recognition of congeneric man was so natural to the 
primeval human being that he applied it to everything 
and believed that every force acting upon him eman- 
ated from a will like his own — just as a dog will bark 
at the wind because he believes that it blows inten- 
tionally against him. And the most natural, simplest, 
innate, and, at the same time, the most interesting 
percept must have been earliest fix.ed by a sound, and 
have shaped itself into the first word. 

I revert again, in conclusion, to the hypothetical 
example before adduced, in which the war-cry of a tribe 
was supposed to become, among neighboring tribes, 
the designation of that tribe. If it is true, as it cer- 
tainly must be, that the tribal community during the 
earliest periods of social life wholly absorbs and subor- 
dinates the individual so that he can scarcely as yet be 
conceived as individualized, the hypothesis which I 
advanced as the possible origin of speech obtains a 
certain degree of probability; and granting that at 
any time but a single representation became connected 
with the word, it follows that the hitherto dormant pow- 
er of creation of language must have been thereby stim- 
ulated, and have begun its at first hidden and humble 
activity, until at last the day dawned when the orig- 
inal springlets broadened into a river, and the rivers 
into the boundless ocean of the human mind as 
evolved through language. 

Let the reader but endeavor to recall to mind when 
and under what circumstances the most immediate 

and hardly controllable impulse to utter a sound 
arises, and he will be obliged to admit that it is at 
the moment of the highest exultation of happiness 
(the huzza of the mountaineers), or of deepest sorrow. 
This impulse is not granted insociable beings. Beasts 
of prey have only decoy-calls and sounds that excite 
fear. Cold-blooded animals possess no utterance of 
the kind whatsoever. Hence the most primitive im- 
pulse to the utterance of sound originated first of all 
in the feeling of sympathy, and had the power, also, 
to awaken sympathy. 

But there is a fact of observation far more import- 
ant still, to the effect that whenever a common feeling 
becomes very intense, particularly when a common 
sensation, or the consciousness and impulse of com- 
mon action, takes possession of men, sound spon- 
taneously and involuntarily awakes in the vibratory 
organs of our body and bursts irresistibly forth. Any- 
one, who as a boy, has been caught with the enthus- 
iasm of juvenile combat, or anyone who on some im- 
portant emergency has lent a hand in common to some 
urgent work, for example, to pull ashore a ship in 
distress — will at once understand the truth of this 
remark. The howl of the baboon, in putting a pack 
of dogs to flight, is the prototype of this impulse 
within the animal world. 

Sounds like these, accordingly, must have been es- 
tablished and developed with certain pecularities dur- 
ing that pre-linguistic period when man still lived as 
an associate member of a tribe or a herd, and it is a 
perfectly consistent inference to assume that the diver- 
sities and contrasts of the separate tribes were attached 
and clung to these highly characteristic sounds. 

In this way I have accepted and fully utilized 
in my hypothesis all that is undoubtedly true in the 
theory propounded by Max Miiller, which, we will re- 
member, was, that a certain sound is peculiar to every 
being, and that the spontaneous utterance of this 
sound is the most immediate expression of its nature. 
What I regard as the chief excellence of my 
hypothesis is this : that it alone can explain how man, 
amidst the fleeting, ever dissolving world of phenom- 
ena, acquired the faculty to isolate a thing, to retain 
it and to unite it with the word as a permanent percept- 
ual existence ; a faculty denied all animals, and which 
in the course of natural development has led to gen- 
eral concepts and to the origin of human reason. 

The first words were appellations of tribes or indi- 
vidual men ; and their perceptual content comprised 
all that was known or observed of these tribes and 

Even at the present day these words are of all words 
the most significant. Let the reader only ask him- 
self whether he knows of any word replete with greater 
significance than that representing a beloved being, 



or than words like : The Romans, Shakespeare, Bee- 

But to close. In the statements above presented, 
I have endeavored, by the aid of the established re- 
sults of modern linguistic research, to construct the 
lines by which a point is to be approximately deter- 
mined that to further research must have remained 

The reader must not forget that I have merely 
sought, in my hypothesis, to disclose the possible 
origin of language. In this obscure province, of 
course, certainty can never be attained. In conclu- 
sion, therefore, I shall propound another hypothesis,