Volume 2 — THE MONIST. (continued 3)

If Prof. Max Müller’s protest against the continuity of evolution is not based upon the dualism of natural and extra-natural mona, what can it mean when he says that evolution does not hold good for the Self?

If the Self is conceived as a monon, i. e. something “alone” like an atomic unit, it can have no evolution. Evolution is change of form through the production of new configurations. A monon or an isolated unit considered by itself cannot evolve. It is as it ever has been and will be—a monon.

If this is Prof. Max Müller’s meaning, we must ask, How does he know that the self is a monon and that objects are mona? Do they not, if so conceived, become highly mysterious entities? New mona are constantly born into this World. Whence do they come? Is every birth of a child the new creation of another monon by the creator, who so distributes the babes in the world that like babes are given to like parents thus producing the wrong impression of heredity as well as of a continuity of evolution? The idea of explaining all the activities of the mind by the postulate of a conscious monon is very simple indeed, but the problems which would arise from this postulate are extremely complex, and it seems to us that after all the proposition of evolution is by far the simplest solution of all the difficulties.⁠[20]

Mind as we conceive it is the product of evolution. Mind has been evolved in a world which (judging from its product) must be conceived as being freighted not only with energy but also with the potentiality of feeling. Mind, as we know it in experience, is no monon, no indivisible unit, but a unitary system of feelings and thoughts produced through external impressions upon one part of the world by the rest of the world which surrounds it. Mind is an abstract term; it does not denote a part of the world, but a certain quality of a part of the world, viz. the feelings and thoughts of special kinds of organisms. Mind is produced through external impressions, but it does not consist merely of external impressions. Mind, as we have stated before, is not passive; it is active. It consists of the reactions which take place in response to impressions and also of the accumulated products of these reactions. Thus every mind is the concentrated effect of the whole cosmos upon one special part of the cosmos, not as it takes place in one moment, but as it has taken place in a definite and continuous period up to date. The accumulation of these effects makes the mind grow and expand and the system of the growth constitutes its specific character. We can as little think of the mind as appearing suddenly by an act of special creation as we can think that an oak tree can be created out of nothing or that it can exist without previous growth. The law of continuity holds good as much in the realm of the human mind as in the domain of animal and plant-life.

So far we have borne in mind the philosophical and scientific aspect only of the continuity of evolution. There is another aspect however of no less importance, that is the religious view of the subject. We do not believe that science and religion are two different spheres of thought and that something may be true in science which is not true in religion. Since the theory of evolution has revolutionised almost all our sciences, we ask, what influence must this change of thought exercise upon religion? Is not the religious idea of God destroyed and the whole system of religion overturned?

We think not. An old and very powerful system of theology which has been considered as orthodox for centuries will become untenable as soon as the idea of evolution and the continuity of evolution are recognised in their sweeping importance; but religion itself will enter into a new phase of evolution and the idea of God will not be cast aside as a mere superstition of the Dark Ages, it will be purified and appear in a greater and sublimer, in a nobler, higher, and in a truer conception than ever before.

The idea of God is an historical heirloom of past ages. The religious man and the philosopher of all times have tried to put into it their highest, their best, their grandest, and their purest emotions as well as thoughts. And these thoughts were not meaningless, they were not mere fancies. They contained the quintessence of their conception concerning that feature of reality which has produced us as living, thinking, and aspiring beings, and which still prompts us to aspire to higher aims. The world which has produced other beings and ourselves, cannot be and is not a meaningless congeries of material particles in motion. It is a living cosmos. It is a grand harmonious universe pregnant with mind, and nothing in it is suffered to exist for any length of time but that which conforms to its laws; and that which conforms to its laws we call moral.

The idea of God, however, as it is commonly taught in our schools is full of pagan notions, and the very paganism of the present God-idea is often supposed to be its deepest and holiest meaning. No wonder that atheism increases with the progress of science! And why should not atheism increase, if it is truer than a superstitious theism? Atheism I believe will increase more and more until theism is cleansed of its pagan notions. But atheism will not come to stay, for atheism is a mere negative view and negations have no strength to live. They have power to criticise and they will serve as a leaven in the dough. Their purpose is the purification of the positive views. Negations will pass away as soon as their purpose is fulfilled.

The old pagan conception (now considered as orthodox) places God in the dark nooks and crevices of our knowledge. Wherever science fails and wherever our inquiring mind is entangled in problems which we cannot hope to solve, wherever the continuity of nature and of the order of nature is hidden from our intellectual sight, the so-called orthodox believer comes forth and declares: “This is a holy place. Here is the finger of God’s special interference!” Consider what a degrading view of God this is! The place of darkness is conceived as an actual break in the order of the world and this break is supposed to be a special revelation of God! If we trust in truth, we need not shun the light of science and the God of science—in contradistinction to the pagan notion of God—reveals himself in the discoveries of science. God lives not in darkness but in light, and his existence is proved not through the breaks in nature (which we can be sure do not exist, and wherever they appear are due to our ignorance) but through the order of nature, for God is the order of nature. God is that power through which we exist as living, thinking, and aspiring beings, and to which we have to conform in order to live.

When Darwin speaks of “life as having been originally breathed into a few forms or into one by the Creator,” he either uses allegorical language or he means that the beginning of life was an act of special creation. He apparently means the latter and is in this respect not a consistent evolutionist. Darwin was great as a reformer of natural science, but in theology he still stood upon the old standpoint. He calls God to rescue where science fails. The Creator did not originally breathe life into the organism, but his breath is constantly ensouling all living beings. Now suppose there were or there could be exceptions to the law of causation, to the conservation of matter and energy, or to the continuity of evolution, would that not rather be a drawback in nature? Are the patches on a coat better proof that it was made by a tailor than the whole coat? Any kind of theology which still recognises special-creation acts, or miracles, or breaks in evolution, we do not hesitate to say, is not yet free from paganism, for it still sticks to the religious conception of the medicine-man that God is a great magician. The God of the medicine-man lives in the realm of the unknown and he appears in man’s imagination where the light of science fails. The God of science however is the God of truth, and evidence of his existence is not found in the darkness of ignorance but in the light of knowledge. God’s being is not recognised in the seeming exceptions to natural laws, but in the natural laws themselves. God’s existence is not proved by our inability to trace here or there the order of cause and effect, as if a disorder in the world made it divine; on the contrary the only rational ground of a faith in God is the irrefragable cosmic order of the universe. It is true that we have to give up the idea of a personal God, but is not a superpersonal God greater than the idol which we have made unto our own likeness?

The God of science is perhaps more in agreement with the biblical God than the God of dogmatic theology. The interpretations of biblical passages which are at present generally considered as orthodox are (merely from the standpoint of impartial exegetics) untenable. The first chapter of Genesis has not one word about special-creation acts. Neither the Elohim nor the Jahveh-Adonai account declares that in the beginning there had been Nothing. Both accounts (Gen. Chap. I. 1 to II. 3, and II. 3 et seqq.) agree that God “shaped” the world. The word barah (to shape, to form, to make) is nowhere used in the sense of creating out of nothing. The Psalmist says, “By the word of the Lord were the heavens made,” which was so interpreted in the New Testament that it meant “by the logos,” and the gospel of St. John adds καὶ θεὸς ἦν ὁ λόγος, i. e. and the word was God. Logos means rational speech or reason, and the world-reason through which the heavens were made can mean only the cosmic order of the universe. This idea of St. John’s thought out to its ultimate conclusions means monism.

There is a common error that scientific progress is dangerous to religion. Scientific progress is dangerous to superstition only. Religion (i. e. true religion) is not based upon our ignorance, but upon our knowledge; it is not a child of the darkness but of the light, and faith far from being a mere belief, i. e. the imperfect knowledge of an opinion for which no proof is forthcoming, is applied knowledge, it is knowledge plus the confidence that this knowledge can be made the basis of ethics and the supreme rule for regulating our conduct in life. The history of religion has been and is still a constant purification of our religious ideas, and the crucible in which the religious ideas are purified is science. We are slowly but constantly progressing toward a high religious ideal and this ideal is a cosmical religion free from the pagan notions so severely criticised by Christ and yet so carefully preserved by the Christian churches. This cosmical religion will be the religion of science. It will not consist of religious indifference nor of a toleration of any and every opinion as is so often erroneously proclaimed as the ideal of liberalism. On the contrary it will be in a certain sense the most orthodox religion, for its maxim will be to stand on the truth and nothing but the truth. And the truth is not at all indifferent or tolerant. The truth is extremely intolerant and suffers no error beside it, although, as a matter of course, the truth is very tolerant in so far as it sanctions no violence but employs only the spiritual sword of conviction by argument and logical proof.

We have given up the idea of special acts of creation as the calling forth disconnectedly of something out of nothing. We conceive the whole world as an orderly cosmos, well regulated by laws and evolving the forms of life in agreement with its laws. Is there less divinity in a cosmos than in a half chaotic world in which God makes exceptions and counteracts his own ordinances? Is the idea of creation less religious if it ceases to mean an origination of something out of nothing? Is not man at least just as wonderful if evolved step by step out of the dust of the earth through innumerable stages in the long process of evolution as if he were made directly out of clay? And is there less divinity in his soul, is he any less shaped unto the image of God because his growth took place according to natural laws? Natural laws, in the conception of purified religion, of the religion of science, are nothing but the ideas of God, eternal and immutable, and formulated by scientists not on the ground of special revelations but on the ground of the universal and unchangeable, and throughout consistent revelation of God in his works.

The science of language and the science of life are two important highroads to the cognition of truth. That both sciences will be consistent with each other, that their results will finally be seen to harmonise perfectly is beyond all doubt and also that their bearing upon religious ideas will contribute much to their purification. Prof. F. Max Müller and Prof. George John Romanes are two great scholars, each one is a leader in his own branch of knowledge, and where they come in conflict, it appears to us, that they rather complement than refute each other. Both are strong Monists, although emphasising different sides of Monistic truth and we feel convinced that their very differences will help us to elaborate more fully and clearly and more comprehensively the great truth of Monism—of that Monism which will more and more be recognised as the corner-stone of science and also of the religion of science.

Editor.

FOOTNOTES:

LITERARY CORRESPONDENCE

I. FRANCE.—THE INTELLECTUAL AWAKENING OF THE LANGUE D’OC.

I have never seen mentioned in your periodical publications the Revue des Pyrénées; and perhaps I should never have heard of the periodical myself if I had not been in this interesting old city, and if my eye had not chanced on the title of one of the articles of a recent number advertised in a local journal. “Un Ariégeois sénateur des Etats-Unis d’Amérique: Pierre Soulé” was the title that attracted my attention and caused me to procure a copy, which I have found interesting in more ways than one.

The publication is a well-printed quarterly of 150 pages, and has completed some time since the second year of its existence. Its full title is as follows: Revue des Pyrénées et de la France meridionale, Organe de l’Association Pyrénéenne et de l’union des Sociétés Savantes du Midi. The founders of the periodical are the late Julien Sacaze, a savant much venerated in these parts, and Dr. F. Garrigou, its present editor.

The Association Pyrénéenne, of which, as we have just seen, the Revue is the organ, is an active and significant organisation. Here are some of its aims. While it recognises the greatness of the Capital, Paris, it advocates decentralisation, by “showing that workers living in the provinces are as capable as others, though enjoying less support and funds, to aid in the building up of the great scientific edifice of France.” The importance and boldness of this declaration can scarcely be appreciated by those who have not breathed for some time the excessively monopolistic atmosphere of the French capital, which has been so baneful to so many national interests. The Association would also act as a means of union between the various learned societies of the South, the Midi, and thus render it possible to organise an annual Congress “for the discussion and defense of the grand scientific, industrial, and commercial questions which concern Southern France.”

Here we see brought out still more precisely that rivalry between the South and North, characteristic of most nations, and which presents such curious aspects in the past and present history of France.

I never weary of quietly noting, while in the South, the delightful contempt which the méridionaux show for their Parisian fellow countrymen. The other day at dinner, for instance, I heard a learned professor of one of the Southern Universities defending the Southern accent and preferring it to “the Parisian accent,” as he put it. But I would need pages of your space to develop this line of thought. Suffice it to say here that the Association Pyrénéenne and its organ the Revue des Pyrénées intend to prove, and have succeeded in proving, if we may judge by this number of the Revue and by the account of the proceedings of the first Congress of the Association, placed at the head of the number, that there are creditable savants and sound learning outside of the walls of Victor Hugo’s “Ville Lumière.”

Another object of the Association would be dear to Castelar’s heart. I give it in full: “To remove morally the grand Pyreneean curtain and to offer the hand of friendship to a nation justly proud of its past, whose interests touch our own, and which has the right, because of the illustrious sons of Catalonia, Aragon, and Navarre, to take part in an intellectual and Pyreneean association based on science.” This is a paraphrase of Louis XIV’s famous remark concerning the Pyrenees, when he placed his grandson on the throne of Spain. Nor can one be surprised at the strong affection which binds Southern France to the Iberian peninsula. The grand mountains, the “Pyreneean curtain,” which separate the two countries, are always in sight, their snow-capped peaks glittering in the sun; the various patois, especially the dialect of Pau, resemble the Spanish more than they do the French tongue; Spanish money is foisted on you at the shops, and picturesque Spanish mountaineers lend a peculiar charm to the country fairs, while the nation is ever on the eve of a pronunciamento, destined to give to Spain the republican institutions of France.

But to return to Pierre Soulé who is the cause and starting point of this letter. Commandant Trespaillé’s eulogistic biographical sketch is of slight interest to American readers, who can find elsewhere a fuller and more exact account of the brilliant but rather disappointing career of the once famous Franco-Louisiana statesman. M. Trespaillé’s reference to “Old Hickory” as “the immortal Jackson,” his statement that the American people is full of prejudices against the French race, his metamorphosing New Hampshire’s only President into Pierre Francklin, and some other similar slips can be overlooked, for this essay offers a striking example of the dominant idea of the Revue, the Association and patriotic Southerners generally,—the glorification of the great men and great actions of the sunny South, the “Midi ensoleillé.”

And I must admit, foreigner though I am, that I share much of this enthusiasm for persons and things meridional, and especially for the latter. What a land this is for historical and archæological study! Take this number of the Revue des Pyrénées, for instance; it is full of it. Here, for example, are the titles of three of the papers read at the first Congress of the Association Pyrénéenne, to which Congress I referred above: “The Domitian Road from Narbonne to Perpignan,” “The Third Century School of Sculpture in Southern Gaul,” and “The Roman Road from Narbonne to Carcassonne.” There are several articles in the Revue about the University of Toulouse, which is stated to be the oldest in France after that of Paris, having been founded in 1229, more than two hundred and fifty years before the discovery of America. The law school even antedates 1229 and its foundation is lost in the obscurity of the early centuries of the Christian era. Another article begins the publication of a list of the professors at the law school. The first recorded name dates from 1251. When one finds such themes as these on every hand, Rome, Gaul, the Middle Ages, and feudalism become almost living realities. And how inexhaustibly rich Languedoc is in these reminders of the distant past.

And the patois or dialects of this part of France are not the least ancient and interesting subjects for study. Wonder is often expressed that the English of America differs so slightly from the English of England, with three thousand miles of ocean separating the two countries. The wonder increases when you find that here in Languedoc the same patois differs in some particulars from town to town. Let me first mention some big differences and then touch upon some minor ones. If you take the train which leaves Toulouse at about half past eleven in the morning, you will arrive at Pau at half past four. During these five hours on a pretty slow train you have passed from one patois to another. The lower classes of Toulouse cannot understand the lower classes of Pau. And if you continue in the same train, at about half past eight you reach Mauléon, in the French Basque Provinces, where the populace of neither Toulouse nor Pau could carry on a conversation with the populace of Mauléon. Thus a nine hours’ ride of about 175 miles on an accommodation train carries you through a region where French is the vernacular of the educated classes and is the official language, but where the great mass of the population is divided into three groups, each speaking a different dialect.

The modifications which the same patois undergoes in neighboring localities is not less curious though of course not so radical. Roughly speaking it may be said that the same patois is spoken from Montpellier to Bordeaux and from Toulouse well up into the centre of France, which embraces the region where prevailed the Langue d’oc from which the present patois is derived. But, while a peasant could make himself understood throughout this wide territory, his ear would often be perplexed by more than one strange word and phrase. I was once told on the Riviera that the patois of Menton differed considerably from that of Nice and that this was particularly the case before the construction of the Corniche road and the railway, when a denizen of the former place could reach the latter city only by doubling Cape Martin under sail. I do not know how true this statement is, but I believe it to be correct, after a superficial study on these same lines which I have just made in the Department of the Tarn, one of the most isolated portions of Upper Languedoc. I find that the patois of towns as near together, as are New York, Newark, Patterson, Nyack and Tarrytown, for example, differs, not, perhaps, in its construction but in its vocabulary. Let me give some examples. Thus, potato, which is truffet at Cordes, becomes truffo at Castres. Patano, the word employed in the South East end of the Department is also heard at Castres, but never at Cordes, which is in the North West end of the Department, Castres being about in the centre. Dog is cagnot and cô at Cordes, and gous at Castres. (At Montpellier, in a contiguous Department it is tschi, while at Pau they say can, which approaches very near the Latin.) Pig is pourcel at Castres and tessou at Cordes. Broom engranicro at Castres and balatso at Cordes. I have also noted the following difference between the Tarn patois and that of Pau. The f of the former always becomes an aspirated h in the latter. Thus, femo, woman (Castres) is henno at Pau; fourco, pitchfork (Castres) hourco (Pau); foun fountain (Castres) houn (Pau).

A comparison of this patois with the French as regards the spelling of geographical names reveals a fact that would somewhat dampen the ardor of our friend Colonel Shephard, of New York, in his effort to force the gazeteers to give geographical names as they are written in the countries where they are found. One might have thought that such near neighbors as the Langue d’oil and the Langue d’oc would have come to some rational understanding on this point and that the Ile-de-France would have accepted the spelling of Languedoc. But not so. The towns and rivers of this part of France look as different in French and patois printed pages and sound as differently when pronounced by educated and peasant mouths, as do the towns and rivers of Italy when seen in Italian and English books or when spoken by Americans and Italians. Thus Toulouso became Toulouse; Castros, Castres; Dourgnos, Dourgne; Carcassouno, Carcassonne; Narbouno, Narbonne; Billofranco, Villefranche; Labaou, Lavaur; Bibiers, Viviers; Boou, Vour; Abrayrou, Aveyron; Cordos, Cordes, etc.

These patois, these dialects of the old Langue d’oc, are awakening just now increasing interest in the literary circles of the Midi, for it is only within recent years that the French has appeared to threaten their extinction. The spread of the railroad system and especially the wide development of the primary school since the advent of the Third Republic, are dealing deadly blows at these popular dialects. But they are still far from moribund. I have frequently been told that even to-day one stumbles now and then on old peasants living up in the isolated Black Mountain, a spur of the Cévennes, and which divides Upper from Lower Languedoc, who cling to oc, although obe or ope, or the French oui and si, are the common affirmative particles of the patois.

It has often happened to me when taking a constitutional to ask my way and discover that I am addressing a person who neither understands nor speaks French, though, as a rule, all peasants understand French and the vast majority can speak the language too, but after a rather sorry fashion. A foreigner finds at least one comfort in all this: in Languedoc he uses the national tongue more correctly than thousands of native born Frenchmen! Nor is the knowledge of patois confined to the peasantry or the working classes of the towns. The bourgeoisie, with exceedingly rare exceptions, are quite at home in it, and the children of the nobility often prattle with their peasant nurse more easily in patois than in the polished speech of their parents. During a political campaign, it is a very common thing for a would-be deputy to address country voters in their familiar dialect, thereby gaining the favor not alone of the félibres; while, during this same period of electoral excitement, the local papers publish almost daily editorials written in patois. In hundreds of rural churches the short sermon after early mass is preached in patois, and many a time I have found myself turning with surprise when I heard French spoken in the streets of Languedocian towns of considerable size.

There was a time when the government and the ruling classes of Languedoc itself strove to eradicate these dialects and to substitute French for them. The aim was a patriotic one; greater national unity, it was believed, would thus be secured. But that period has gone by, and at present there is a strong tendency to preserve from destruction these linguistic souvenirs of a rapidly fading past. What the enthusiastic félibres would do for Provençal, they and their disciples and imitators in Languedoc would do for the dialects of South Western France. At the Congrès d’Etudes Languedociennes, held recently at Montpellier, one of the members proposed that the French language should be taught in the primary schools through the medium of the langue d’oc. The suggestion is not so chimerical as it appears to be at first blush, for one of the greatest and never-ending difficulties of the country schoolmaster in this part of France is to teach his scholars the three R’s by means of the French, which is a foreign tongue to ninety-nine out of a hundred of them. One is not surprised, therefore, to find that one of the resolutions passed by this same Congress takes up the plan proposed in the paper just referred to, and declares in favor of “the utilisation of the langue d’oc for teaching French in the primary schools.”

At a recent sitting of the General Council of the Bordeaux University a resolution was passed calling for the creation of a chair of “Southern languages.” In explanation of this term, the Gironde, the leading Bordeaux newspaper, says: “Besides giving instruction in Spanish, one of the labors of the professor would be to teach our South Western dialects in which the most important historical documents of this part of the country were drawn up during several centuries.” The editor then goes on to say: “If the State does not feel able to found this chair, will not some private individual come forward and imitate the example of James E. Clark, who recently established at Worcester, Mass., a university endowed with a capital of $12,500,000?”

Speaking of primary schools reminds me of a curious fact which has frequently attracted my attention in Languedoc this winter. In no other part of France perhaps was it so common for a town to grow up around a castle; for this region was terribly harried by the Wars of Religion, and the poor peasants were forced to seek the protection of some lord. In order to render them more impregnable, these castles were generally built on some high hill. So now one sees on every hand decaying hamlets surrounding ruined castles left almost deserted on the very crown of some pyramidal mount, while the busy town of to-day has descended to the more accessible base of the hill. But since the advent of the Third Republic and the grand impetus given to primary instruction, these abandoned castles have taken a new lease of life, and been converted into school buildings. The other day during an hour’s drive in Upper Languedoc I saw two of these old useless feudal piles consecrated to popular nineteenth century education. What a train of reflections is thus suggested! Within the very same walls where some proud ignorant seignior once lorded it over his humble vassals, the descendants of these serfs, still speaking the tongue of their oppressed ancestors, but enjoying all the liberties then usurped by their masters, are now being instructed in branches of knowledge of which the feudal knight had scarcely an inkling. What a revolution was that of ’89!

Theodore Stanton.

II. GERMANY.—RECENT PUBLICATIONS IN THE DOMAIN OF PATHOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY.

The science of anthropology claims, as we know, to have discovered, that the various epochs of history are marked not only by characteristic religious, political, social, and literary conditions, but not unfrequently also by particular forms of disease; and it is the opinion of eminent medical authorities that nervous and mental diseases constitute the “pathological feature” of modern civilisation. This, of course, is not to be understood as meaning that diseases of this character have not appeared in previous epochs, but simply that they occur with unusual frequency at the present day and in unusually grave forms.

A book treating of the affliction of the age ought to count on a large circle of readers, and it will be all the more deserving of such if it thoroughly and skilfully fulfils its purpose of holding up the mirror to the time and of imparting the light and advice required in this matter. This has been done in an excellent manner by the work of the Bremen alienist Dr. Scholz, entitled Die Diätetik des Geistes—Ein Führer zu praktischer Lebensweisheit, which has just appeared in its second and enlarged edition, Leipsic, E. H. Mayer. This book is distinguished from the majority of similar recent publications intended for a greater public by its relative thoroughness. It must be characterised as thorough and comprehensive, also, in comparison with the older and more celebrated work, which its title at once suggests, Feuchterleben’s Diätetik der Seele. The character of the book is not “purely psychological,” overlooking the high importance of the influence of the body, as was the case with Beneke; nor does it lean towards the moralising of a Heinroth and Ideler; nor does the author treat his subject from an exclusively medical point of view: the work, in fact, is anthropological in character. Its contents possess chiefly in two respects great interest: (1) from a universal human point of view, in that it affords us a glance into the awful abysses of life, in the company of an expert guide who tells us how these depths are to be avoided, or at least gives consolation to those whose way leads necessarily through them; and (2) from a pedagogical point of view, in that it directs attention to the heredity of the morbid constitutions and abnormalities that oppose obstacles to education or may become such if improperly treated.

It is obvious that morbid mental dispositions must be taken into account in all work of education and instruction, if we wish to avoid an egregious violation of the universally recognised requirement to regard individuality. And from this point of view the book of Dr. Scholz will awaken in readers who have anything to do at all with education, the desire to learn more about the nature of morbid mental life in the young than is presented in this treatise destined for a large public.

Such a wish would have had to remain unsatisfied six years ago, when the Diätetik des Geistes first appeared. It is true, English physicians particularly, like West, Conolly, Maudsley, and others, had a long time previously directed attention to the morbid phenomena of infant psychic life, but their work, like that of their French and German professional associates, lies buried in medical magazines and volumes not easily accessible. The first to apply himself to the work needed in this condition of affairs was Professor Emminghaus, who digested and collected all the material, thus supplied, in a compendious work bearing the title Die psychischen Störungen des Kindesalters, Tübingen, Laupp, 1887. The fact indeed is not to be left unrecognised that the book, in so far as it may be used by those who have not had a medical training, possesses two defects,—defects, however, for which the author cannot be censured. In the first place, it is intended for physicians only, and is therefore, on account of the many technical terms it uses, at times not uniformly intelligible. To the serious student, however, who possesses the previous psychological and physiological knowledge most indispensable, it presents no difficulties of too great magnitude. The second defect likewise springs from the purpose of the work. It consists in the fact that, excepting a few occasional references and hints, the pedagogical aspect of the question is not considered. Pedagogists, here, are confronted with a problem which must be solved, and of which the solution will certainly not be a thankless task. The writer of these lines has approached one aspect of this question in a treatise of his entitled Nervosität and Mädchenerziehung, Wiesbaden, 1890, in the course of which study he has arrived at the conviction that an important factor is lacking in modern pedagogics and the training of teachers. This conviction he has put into words in another treatise, Geistesstörungen in der Schule, Wiesbaden, 1891, with what success it remains for the future to say.

Two years after the appearance of Emminghaus’s work a translation was published in Germany of a French book of a similar character. Der Irrsin im Kindesalter, by Dr. Paul Moreau, authorised edition by Dr. Demetrio Galatti, Stuttgart, 1889, Ferdinand Enke, publisher. Unfortunately, Moreau, as his own preface reveals, did not know, when he wrote his book, of the existence of the German work,—a circumstance that has not been without regrettable consequences. Taken in conjunction with the work of Emminghaus, however, Moreau’s book possesses, on account of the numerous morbid cases it gives, a high value; although it cannot bear comparison with the former work in richness of material and familiarity with the literature of the subject, and much less so in the psychological treatment of the subject, where Emminghaus is incomparably subtler and more profound.

A treatise that is closely related, in point of subject-matter, on the one hand to the works of Emminghaus and Moreau, and on the other to the books of Preyer (Die Seele des Kindes) and Pérez (Les trois premières années de l’enfant and L’enfant de trois à sept ans) on the development of children, has just been published by a Leipsic teacher under the title of Die Periodicität in der Entwickelung der Kindesnatur, Neue Gesichtspunkte für Kinderforschung und Jugenderziehung, by Gustav Siegert, Leipsic, 1891, R. Voigtländer. The author endeavors, in a very interesting manner we must admit, to show that, in the development of the child, lasting states in regular alternate succession occur of mental and physical buoyancy on the one hand and depression on the other, of moral exaltation, likewise, and moral subsidence. The fundamental cause of this periodical alternation, of the general existence of which numerous proofs are adduced, is supposed to lie in the alternate strengthening and relaxation of the individual’s forces of action, brought on by the expenditure and reproduction of energy; additional determinative causes, accelerative as well as retardatory, are found in intercourse with the world and with other human beings. We may call the former the individual and the latter the social cause of the phenomena of periodicity. In the application of his results to juvenile education the author arrives at some far-reaching propositions of reform, the consideration of which, however, we shall have to leave to the pedagogical press.

We shall have to preserve the same attitude with regard to a new work of the well-known Leipsic professor Dr. Strumpell—Die pädogogische Pathologie oder die Lehre von den Fehlern der Kinder, Leipsic, 1890, Verlag von Georg Böhme Nachfolger. We must refer here to this otherwise highly deserving book only in one respect, where we have occasion for censure. The author does not in his expositions sufficiently take account of the intimate connection between physical and mental phenomena, and the consequence of this is among other things that he excludes pathological mental conditions (the physical causes of which he is forced to admit) as a matter of principle from the pedagogic system and consigns them entirely into the charge of the physician. In our treatise mentioned we have explained why this is not allowable, as well as, in addition, what portion of duty devolves on the teacher in the consideration of these pathological mental conditions. Strumpell’s mistake springs from the fact that he conceives with Herbart the essential object of education to be intellectual culture. Allowing that Herbart cannot be taken to task for entertaining this conception, we may yet demand of Strumpell the recognition of the results of recent physiological psychology to the extent at least of perceiving that psychical and physical phenomena are one if not the same. Even the opponents of Monism dare not overlook this truth,—a truth moreover that admits very well of reconciliation with the Herbartian pluralism to which Strumpell is devoted.

We might cite here numerous pathological conditions of mind that very plainly spring from physical causes and to which the instructor has to give attention just as much as the physician. Instead, however, of citing particular cases, we will refer to three little treatises that are in the highest degree instructive on this point, not only for teachers exclusively but also for all who have to do with children. Dr. Maximilian Bresgen, specialist in diseases of the nose and throat at Frankfort on the Main, has published at the house of Leopold Voss in Hamburg (1890) a brochure entitled Ueber die Bedeutung behinderter Nasenathmung nebst besonderer Berücksichtigung der daraus hervorgehenden Gedächtniss- und Geistesschwäche. A treatise of like character is that of Dr. med. Lenzmann of Duisburg, entitled Ueber den schädlichen Einfluss der behinderten Nasenathmung auf die körperliche und geistige Entwickelung des Kindes, Bielefeld, 1890, Anders Verlag. Both treatises contain, among other things not to be considered here, instructive examples of the rise and disappearance of that morbid mental condition to which Hack first directed notice in Germany but which elsewhere became known through the researches of the Dutch physician Guye by the name of Aprosesia nasalis. The third treatise is by Dr. med. Ralf Wiechmann, specialist for nervous diseases at Brunswick, and bears the title Eine sogenannte Veitstanzepidemie in Wildbad, Leipsic, 1890, Verlag von Georg Thieme. By St. Vitus’s dance (Ger. Veitstanz) we understand the disease of which the well-known symptoms are involuntary muscular twitchings usually accompanied by severe or light psychical disturbances, known in medicine by the name of chorea minor and chorea rhythmica, and sometimes occurring in epidemics. At the school in Wildbad the number of the afflicted children rose in the course of time to twenty-six. Wiechmann expatiates at length in his book on the character of the contagion, and arrives through an exhaustive use of the existing literature on the subject at the result, that there was present in the individual children attacked substantially a physical predisposition, an unstable nervous system. As the first children attacked were not removed, the convulsive motions were seen and perceptually taken up by the other children, who were just approaching the period of puberty and labored under hereditary predispositions. “Once these images had entered perceptually into the unstable brain, they became competent to operate as stimuli and to be translated into involuntary muscular motions.”

The conclusion of my letter may be taken up with the discussion of a treatise that deserves a somewhat more detailed consideration. The director of the Royal Würtembergian State Insane Asylum at Zwiefalten, Dr. F. L. A. Koch, who already possesses eminent repute in the domain of psychiatry, has just published the first part of a new work called Die psychopathischen Minderwertigkeiten—Erste; Abteilung: Einleitung, Die angeborenen andauernden psychopathischen Minderwertigkeiten, Ravensburg, 1891, Verlag von Otto Maier. In this work the author extends the development of the ideas he some time previously outlined in his Rudiments of Psychiatry, second edition, 1889. In the expression “psychopathische Minderwertigkeiten” (psychopathical secondary factors) Koch embraces all those psychical irregularities, be they natural or acquired, affecting the life of the human personality, which though in the severest cases even not amounting to actual mental disorders, yet in the most favorable instances so affect the persons afflicted with them that they appear as lacking the full possession of mental normality and capacity. Primarily, of course, the treatise is intended for physicians, and the author counts on the gratitude of this profession in so far as he has undertaken to put in independent form the separate facts formerly scattered over the whole domain of psychiatry, to free them from other neuro- and psycho-pathological subjects, and to unite them into one special group of pathological states. But the author also counts on his book being used by the representatives of other professions, by pastors, tutors, teachers, jurists, sociologists, historians, and the like, and indeed with perfect justice.

The savers of souls, if they had mastered to a slight degree even the comprehension of the psychopathical secondary factors, would be astonished to see how many people there are in the case of whom medicine is more effective against “spiritual” vexations than pastoral advice, and that often such advice, being one-sided and starting from false assumptions, does harm only. They would see in the peculiarity of the religious needs and tribulations of many a man a psycho-pathological abnormality; they would come to understand how the otherwise unintelligible badness of many another has its source in a pathological basis: they would not regard and hail as absolutely good, moreover, many “good impulses”;—all this they would find out if they had learned to note and comprehend what the import is of such persons being descended from neurotic ancestors, of their exhibiting palpable indications of degeneration, and having also perhaps insane, idiotic, whimsical, and epileptical brothers and sisters. They would furthermore perfectly comprehend, that in the case of people who are descended from healthy parents, but who from being in times past happy and joyful Christians are now struggling with distractions of soul, it were often better first to inquire after the state of their organs of digestion. And they would be able to deal quite differently from formerly with many a soul entrusted to their care, perhaps also more easily to conquer, or at least to endure, some secret burden of their own lives. The import of the book for the educator is easily inferrible from the remarks made. For the jurist, who has to deal with the problems of accountability and the administering of punishment, its importance is manifest. Sociology, too, the deeper it enters into its problems, will not be able to dispense with psychopathology, and in this field it is precisely the psychopathical secondary factors that eminently demand attention. In that which concerns its connection with history we need only mention the names of Lombroso, Emminghaus (Allgemeine Psychopathologie) and Möbius (Rousseaus Krankheitsgeschichte), to point out the importance of a work like that before us. We recommend it without reserve to all whom it touches.

Chr. Ufer.

Altenburg, July, 1891.

ÉMILE LITTRÉ.

Louis Belrose, Jr.

DIVERSE TOPICS.

THE ORIGIN OF THOUGHT-FORMS.

Dr. H. Potonié, the editor of the Naturwissenschaftliche Wochenschrift, Berlin, advances in one of its recent numbers (Vol. vi. 15) the following proposition concerning the origin of the forms of thought: “All the forms of thought have originated in the struggle for life not otherwise than the forms of organisms.” This is further explained in the following sentence: “Those conceptions which are called a priori, are inherited; they have been necessarily used by the primitive thinking organisms and are now in their disposition immediately present. Yet they have been gained by experience. Without any knowledge, for instance, of space and time, no action is possible; accordingly their conception is perhaps the oldest and therefore it appears aprioristic.”

I. THOUGHT-FORMS AND THE FORMS OF EXISTENCE.

We agree with Dr. Potonié that thought-forms grow naturally and that they grow such as they are, of necessity. In our opinion formal thought, with its so-called a priori theorems, is derived from the thought-forms by abstraction. (See “Fundamental Problems” pp. 26-60, the chapter Form and Formal Thought.) If it had been possible for other thought-forms to have originated together with those which we possess at present, and it may be parenthetically remarked that we do not consider it as possible; but if it had been possible, we do not deny that all the other thought-forms would have gone to the wall, they would have perished in the struggle for existence and our present thought-forms alone would have survived. In this we agree with Dr. Potonié, and a naturalist may be satisfied with this statement, because it suffices for his purposes. The recognition of the objective validity of the laws of formal thought is all that the specialist wants for this or that branch of science. But this recognition is not sufficient for the philosopher. He has to understand the problem why the subjective laws of purely formal thought possess an absolute and an objective validity for the world of real existences. He must understand not only how thought-forms originated, but also why and on what ground the laws of formal thought are considered as necessary and universal truths. The question of their origin and growth is of secondary importance compared with the question of their rigidity and apriority.

Mr. Herbert Spencer has made the same proposition as Dr. Potonié and his view briefly expressed is this: “The laws of formal thought are a priori to the individual, but a posteriori to the race.” In other words apriority must be explained by heredity. A dog cannot count, because none of his ancestors have ever counted, but a child has the faculty to learn counting because innumerable ancestors of his have counted and his brain possesses a predisposition to learn counting easily. Concerning our apprehension of space-relations which expressed as mathematical theorems appear to us necessary and are called a priori, Mr. Spencer says:

“We cannot think otherwise because during that adjustment between the organism and the environment which evolution has established, the inner relations have been so moulded upon the outer relations that they cannot by any effort be made not to fit them. Just in the same way that an infant’s hand, constructed so as to grasp by bending the fingers inwards, implies ancestral hands which have thus grasped, and implies objects in the environment to be thus grasped by this infantine hand when it is developed, so the various structures fitting the infant for apprehension of space-relations, imply such apprehensions in the past by its ancestors and in the future by itself.”

Man’s ability to learn counting is inherited, and there may be more or less of it in different people. Mathematical talent is inherited just as much as musical talent or other faculties. But the philosophical question concerning the apriority of mathematical theorems has nothing whatever to do with the origin of mathematical talent. When Mr. Spencer declares that apriority is but an inherited aposteriority, this is equivalent and is intended to be equivalent to an actual denial of all apriority. His very explanation proves that he does not see the real problem, and in the same way Dr. Potonié overlooks it entirely. The philosophical problem of the apriority is not an historical problem, it cannot be solved by tracing the evolution of thought-forms. The philosopher does not ask how did thought-forms originate, but why do we attribute to the laws of formal thought necessity and universality and on what ground can we justify our assumption?

Mr. Spencer compares our apprehension of space-relations to our inherited habit to grasp with our hands and to walk with our feet. This comparison is misleading and inappropriate. That we grasp with our hands and walk with our feet is incidental. There are animals who have developed other limbs for the same purposes. There are monkeys who grasp with their tails and the elephant grasps with his nose. There is no necessity and no universality in our predisposition of grasping with our hands. Yet there resides necessity and universality in the laws of formal thought so that wherever animals develop rational thought we are sure that to them twice two will always equal four just as much as it does to us. However they may be different in other respects: they may be winged creatures or may be somewhat like our ants, they may have developed other bodily structures than we can dream of, nevertheless their arithmetic, their logic, and their mathematics will in all essentials be exactly the same as ours. There are animals whose thought-forms are not as highly developed as in man, but there are no animals in whom they are developed differently. We must consider it as impossible even that on other stars rational creatures can be found whose reason differs from ours. To them also twice two will be four.

II. THE PROBLEM OF APRIORITY.

Kant did not call the formal laws a priori in order to characterise them as innate ideas, but simply to denote that their validity is necessary and universal. If I have to walk twice a distance of two miles, I know “beforehand” (i. e. a priori) that I shall have to walk four miles—even before I have made the actual experience. And this wonderful quality of giving information beforehand is characteristic of all the laws of formal thought. It is certain that our ability of applying the laws of formal thought has been acquired by experience in the race as well as in the individual. But their necessity has to do with experience in so far only as its recognition is the indispensable condition of all methodical experience—i. e. of science. The laws of formal thought and our recognition of their necessity and universality (alias, “apriority”) are the organ of any and all scientific cognition. The methods of the sciences are exact measuring and counting based upon the faith that the laws of measuring and counting are unalterable and unfailingly reliable. We know beforehand that they will hold good for all possible cases.

Our experience of millenniums suffices to prove that the laws of formal thought agree with the laws of actual existence, and Kant’s view to consider them as merely subjective and not objective appears to me untenable. We may fairly consider Kant’s subjectivism as a thing of the past. And the agreement of the forms of objectivity with the forms of subjectivity is easily explained when we bear in mind that the thinking subject is a part of the objective world. It is but natural that the forms of existence are impressed upon the thinking subject as forms of thought.

Yet the question of the necessity and universality of the laws of form remains. Can we comprehend why the form of objective reality as well as of subjective thought must be such as they are, and might they not just as well be different? Is this question legitimate and can it be answered? We say Yes, the question is legitimate and can be answered.

All the laws of formal thought are products of thought-operations which are based on no other principle than that of identity (A = A). As soon as thinking beings have developed to that degree of thought-ability in which they are able to deal with the abstract idea of pure form, they can make constructions of pure forms. So long as these constructions of pure forms are made consistently and correctly (i. e. in strict agreement with the principle of identity), they will be found to hold good in reality and we can a priori—before we have made the actual experience—rely on their applicability.

The laws of pure forms (forms of thought as well as forms of existence) can satisfactorily be proved to anyone who acknowledges the principle of identity. The principle of identity is not an assumption but it is the generalised statement of the simplest thought-operation, which, if employed with consistency, can serve as a rule for other and more complex thought-operations. Consistency is the condition of thought. Consistency produces order, and order is the most characteristic feature of thought. We create some pure form in some definite way, for instance in counting we posit a unit (we call it “one”). Now we create in the same definite way again a pure form, we again posit a unit (we again call it “one”). In so far as these two “ones” are the product of the same operation they will be the same and we express this truth in the sentence 1 = 1 or A = A.

When, for the sake of assistance in the process of abstract thought, we use real objects to represent our pure forms, similarly as an abacus is employed for assisting the young mind of a child in learning arithmetic, the dissimilarity of the objects is of no account. The proposition of their identity has no reference to the material objects, but to the operation. Two operations being according to some special and definite method exactly the same, their products are also exactly the same, and the rest is not to be minded, because we have in our abstraction purposely excluded everything else.

Here is not the place to show the palpable advantages of the methods of abstract thought and especially of the abstract thought-operations with pure forms. It is sufficient to characterise its main principle of procedure. We may also parenthetically remark that from our position we are no longer in need of axioms either in mathematics or in any other formal science. The data of formal sciences are certain mental operations, viz. positing pure forms, and combining, separating, and recombining them. The subject matter of formal sciences consists in the products of these operations. To formulate some of the simplest products in axioms is a mistake which has been pointed out by Hermann Grassmann in his Ausdehnungslehre.

We are struck and overawed with the cosmic order of all natural phenomena which, as science teaches, is produced through the rigidity of the formal laws of existence. The planetary system with its regularity of motion which in spite of its many complications has been formulated by Kepler in most simple laws is an object of wonder to us. This order of nature is the same order as the grand harmony that prevails in mathematics and all the other formal sciences. The most complicated laws of both, forms of nature and forms of thought, are nothing but generalisations of special applications of the principle of identity in some kind of action that takes place. While the order of the objective world excites our wonder we can understand the order of the subjective world of thought-forms and know that, being the product of certain mental operations according to the principle of identity, it must be a matter of course. Thus the intrinsic necessity of the laws of our thought-forms gives us a clue to the intrinsic necessity of the laws of nature.

III. CONSERVATION OF MATTER AND ENERGY, AND CAUSATION.

The law of the conservation of matter and energy is nothing but an application of the principle of identity to nature as a whole. And the law of cause and effect is again a corollary only of the law of the conservation of matter and energy. The law of causation is a formula which maintains that there is identity in difference. Some motion produces a change of form. There is accordingly a different state after the motion than before. Yet the total amount of matter and energy remains the same. This is the identity in the change. David Hume and with him John Stuart Mill and the empiricists misunderstood the problem of causation. Instead of considering cause and effect as one continuous process that should be analysed, they considered cause and effect separately and attempted a synthesis. In addition to this mistake, causes as well as effects were defined to be objects. Hume says cause and effect are objects following one another. Cause however is a process; it is a motion, a change that takes place, an event that happens; it is not a thing. And effect is the product of such a process. Effect is a special form, a special state of things, a special configuration, but not the material of which this configuration consists. A certain poison introduced into the stomach of a living being produces certain motions in the bowels, called cramps, which may finally prove fatal. One change produces other changes and their product is a new state of things which is accompanied with pain and ends in death. It is wrong to call strychnine the cause and a dead mouse the effect. But if we call strychnine the cause and a dead mouse the effect, we must forever despair of solving the problem of causation by a reduction to the principle of identity, for strychnine is not at all identical with a dead mouse. No cause is the same thing as its effect, and we can by no means identify cause and effect. And yet the principle of identity holds good. The identity in causation is the conservation of matter and energy in a change of form.

It has been maintained that the law of cause and effect could never be proved; it is either an innate idea prior to experience (Schopenhauer and Schopenhauer’s interpretation of Kant) or it is an assumption derived from experience of which (since experience is not as yet exhausted) we cannot know whether it will hold good forever (J. S. Mill). In contradistinction to these views we maintain, that the law of cause and effect can satisfactorily be proved to anyone who accepts the principle of identity. So far as the principle of identity is recognised, all the formal laws are unequivocally determined, or popularly expressed they are as they are, they will remain so and cannot be otherwise, they are necessary. All the determining factors and also the procedure of an operation are set forth, no unforeseen events are possible, for the non-formal elements are excluded, and therefore the result will be in one case just as it is in any other. Thus it can a priori be stated that formal laws will always hold good.

The question has been raised: Whether or not our knowledge of the apriority of formal laws is independent of experience. We answer: In a certain sense it is dependent upon experience, in another it is not. Historically and evolutionarily it is dependent upon experience. A store of innumerable experiences has to be gained before a rational creature will be able to make the abstraction of pure forms. As soon as this stage is attained, man possesses a world in himself. He can now experiment within himself with mental images, for instance with numbers: he can calculate. His mental operations with pure form are called “pure thought” and “pure thought” is now opposed to “experience through the senses.” The word “experience” accordingly is used in two ways; it has a broad and a narrow meaning. In its broad sense it means any acquisition of knowledge generally, in its narrow sense it means knowledge acquired through the sense-activity alone. Our knowledge of the apriority of formal laws rests upon experience in its broad sense, but not upon experience in its narrow sense. We can never derive the idea of necessity from sense-impressions. John Stuart Mill in rejecting innate ideas saw no other way than to derive the formal laws from experience (taking here experience in the broad sense). Yet he did not make a distinction between formal thought and sense-experience. He considered the nature of sense-experience as typical for all experience. And thus, again, taking experience in the narrow sense of the term, he was from his premises perfectly justified in rejecting the idea of necessity. If the process of cause and effect is really a synthesis of two things represented in two different sense-impressions following each other, then indeed we have no guarantee that the same sequences will always be observed; and there may be worlds in which the law of causality does not operate. Mill saw all the consequences of his mistake, he conceded freely that we are not justified in assuming that twice two will always be four: many thousands of experiences are in its favor, but we cannot be at all sure that no case will ever happen in which twice two makes five.

The ideas of causality and of the conservation of matter and energy are not derived from experience in the narrow sense of the word, not from sense-experience, but from experience in the wider sense of the word, i. e. from sense-experience arranged with the assistance of formal laws. We should not forget that mere sense-experience exists only in our abstract thought. In reality all sense-experience is relational, it is inseparable from its form. Form and the laws of form are not something purely mental which is transferred to the world of reality, form is something real, it is objective, it is a quality of the facts and the thought-forms of mind are a part and a product of the formal structure of the universe.

The ideas of causation and of the conservation of matter and energy are not prior to experience, they are a part of experience, i. e. experience in the wider sense. They are not part of the sense-experience, but the results of our experiments with purely formal thought-operations, and being the vital instrument or organ of cognition they are the condition of all methodical experience.

IV. WHY IS MR. MILL’S PROPOSITION UNTENABLE?

In practical life we all expect that 2 × 2 will under all circumstances make 4, and not 5. We reject Mr. Mill’s idea that there may be even a possibility of the latter. Is our expectancy really due to a posteriori experience which having been repeated so often in the lives of our ancestors is now so firmly rooted in our minds that we imagine it to be necessary and a priori? No! certainly not. The experiences of our race in the struggle for life has produced our ability of thought, but it has nothing to do with the apriority of the products of formal thought-operations. A statement of formal thought such as “twice two makes four,” cannot be compared to statements of sense-experience such as that sugar has a sweet taste. There may be a moment in which the taste of sugar will be bitter to our tongue. This is quite possible. But to say that twice two might in the future or in any other world, as Mr. Mill maintains, make five is nonsensical, and the possibility of this assumption cannot be placed in one line with the possibilities of extraordinary and exceptional sense-experiences.

What does “twice two makes four” mean? Two means 1 + 1, and twice two means 1 + 1 plus 1 + 1. This sum is called “four”; and what we call five is 4 + 1. To maintain that the operation 2 × 2 might produce the result 5, is to admit conditions which have been excluded. Pure forms are not like animals which multiply; they are and remain such as they have been posited. When we put two amœbas into a glass and then add two other amœbas, it is quite possible that in the mean time one of the first set has divided into two. In that case we would have five amœbas. But the operation 2 × 2 cannot breed any additional units, so as to produce a greater number than the sum of 1 + 1 + 1 + 1. Nor can we let any of these units disappear into naught, so as to produce the result 3, without committing some inconsistency in our thought-operations, for the products of our thought-operations are rigid and must remain such as they have been posited. They are not animals blessed with fertility but pure forms and nothing but pure forms.

How could Mr. John Stuart Mill overlook so palpable a contrast as that between formal knowledge and sense-experience? He was apparently prejudiced against the term “a priori,” which as we freely confess is a very poor and inadequate expression. Mr. Mill himself states the cause of his prejudice in his autobiography. He says:

“There is not any idea, feeling, or power, in the human mind, which, in order to account for it, requires that its origin should be referred to any other source than experience.”

Mr. Mill was justly exasperated against anything a priori, for in his time, it had become customary among certain philosophers to classify all pet superstitions which could not be proved by experience as a priori. Mr. Mill continues:

“Whatever may be the practical value of a true philosophy of these matters, it is hardly possible to exaggerate the mischiefs of a false one. The notion that truths external to the mind may be known by intuition or consciousness, independently of observation and experience, is, I am persuaded, in these times the great intellectual support of false doctrines and bad institutions. By the aid of this theory every inveterate belief and every intense feeling, of which the origin is not remembered, is enabled to dispense with the obligation of justifying itself by reason, and is erected into its own all-sufficient voucher and justification. There never was such an instrument devised for consecrating all deep-seated prejudices.”

We appreciate the cause of Mr. Mill’s prejudice, but we cannot agree with him. And Mr. Mill is mistaken when he imagines that a rejection of apriority will abolish false doctrines and superstitions. On the contrary. The recognition of absolute necessity based upon the universality of formal thought will alone be a safe basis of science through which we can reject prima facie the wrong pretensions of superstitions and pseudo-science. If we assume with Mr. Mill that all formal knowledge partakes of the nature of sense-experience, that there is no difference between the two, no general judgment would be allowable and the idea of necessity would be inadmissible. These consequences are accepted by Mill. In that case science would lose its value and philosophy would be without foundation. The most absurd superstition could not be rejected off-hand on the ground of being contrary to that which through logic and other formal sciences has been found to be necessary and a condemnation of any superstition on the part of science would be mere arrogance. Pseudo-science would have the same right with true science.

It is obvious that without being obliged to consider the apriority of formal laws as innate, we need not accept the consequence of Mr. Mill’s philosophy. We can and we do retain the idea of necessity and we consider it as the corner-stone of all science.

V. THE MEANING OF “NECESSARY.”

We have to be on our guard lest we introduce some mystical element into the idea of necessity. There is nothing mystical about necessity. Necessary means that a certain operation, if it is exactly the same operation as another one, will produce exactly the same result. When we posit two units twice, we shall have the same result as when we posit one unit four times; and we call this result four. We shall reach the same product whenever we repeat the same operation. Knowing that we shall always reach the same result, we can, a priori (or beforehand) and with certainty, determine the result of certain operations after we have mentally gone through the same operations for all possible cases and under any imaginable conditions. That a perfect apriority with an unfailing certainty is possible only in the domain of formal thought is natural. The reason is that we know our thought-forms exhaustively. They contain nothing but that which has been predicated about them. Our sense-experience however is always piecemeal and never exhaustive.

Comprehension is actually a tracing of form relations and a formulating them in concise statements. The scientist’s work is based upon the methods of measuring and counting (i. e. the methods of formal sciences) and he undertakes to show that certain phenomena, different in some respects, are the same in other respects, that their sameness can be stated in a comprehensive and exact formula. In this way he marks out their determining factors in terms of formal thought (for instance in numbers), so that we can compute them and predict them according to their determining factors, so that we can know, according to their conditions, that they will be always as they are.

The importance of formal thought is paramount in science and the problem about the necessity which attaches to the laws of formal thought is the fundamental problem of philosophy.

There are many philosophers, still, troubling themselves to solve the problem in the fashion of Schopenhauer or of Mill or looking upon the problem as insolvable. We do not doubt that the solution here presented is the only possible solution which as soon as it is understood will find a general acceptance.

Must it be added that the solution of this fundamental problem does not involve the ready solutions of all other minor problems? Oh no! We all know that the solution of one problem is only a stepping-stone for attacking other problems. The possibilities of progress are as unlimited as the scope of cognition. Light on this general subject gives us hope that we shall succeed in throwing light also upon other subjects which are still shrouded to the philosophical inquirer in impenetrable darkness.

VI. MODERN LOGIC.

The problem of modern logic is at bottom no other problem than that of formal thought and of the origin of thought-forms. Professor Dewey in the excellent essay which appears as the leading article of this number says: “Any book of logic will tell us what this conception of thought is: that thought is a faculty or an entity existing in the mind apart from facts and that it has its own fixed forms with which facts have nothing to do—except in so far as they pass under the yoke.” This is the old conception of thought, rightly criticised by Professor Dewey, for, closely considered, it turns out to be dualistic. However, as soon as a proposition is recognised to contain or to rest upon dualism, it becomes a problem. The problem of modern logic is, How can we arrive at a monistic conception of logic, how can we rid ourselves of the dualism on the one side of facts not yet rationalised by the method of thought-forms and on the other side of mind with its empty thought-forms assimilating facts to its own nature.

Our solution of the difficulty has been proposed, in the sense outlined by Professor Dewey, in “Fundamental Problems.” Professor Dewey, according to our opinion, is right when he says there is no such a thing as transcendental thought, or pure thought, thought by itself. And there is no such a thing either as fact, crude irrational chaotic fact. The world of fact, indeed, is a cosmos and no chaos; there never was a chaos and never will be a chaos, for the laws of form are an essential and the most characteristic feature of the world.

Can there be any question how the order found in thought-forms originates in a world in which the inorganic and unfeeling mineral crystallises in a regular shape according to strict mathematical laws, i. e. the laws of form? A world in which the plant grows not otherwise than according to strict mathematical laws building up roots and stem and leaves and petals and stamens and all other organs obedient to a certain plan which will vary according to circumstances, but throughout consistent with the principles of formal laws? Can there be any question that in this world of cosmic harmony thought-forms will develop in feeling beings as a microcosm exhibiting the same regularity and conformity to law as do in this world all other things animate and inanimate? Our pure, i. e. merely formal, thought is an abstraction which serves the purpose of comprehension. And so is the concept “matter,” being that which produces sense-impressions. There are no such ghosts as pure matter or pure thoughts in reality.

Modern logic, so far as we conceive it to be right, is by no means an overthrow of the old formal Logic, generally called Aristotelian. It is simply an amendment made in order to exclude an erroneous interpretation. And so is modern mathematics not so much a revolution as an extension of the old Euclidian system. It is a revolution only against a certain unclear conception of mathematics according to which this science is said to rest upon axioms, these axioms representing absolute truth—unprovable, incomprehensible, and mysterious.⁠[21]

The main truth of monism is that reality forms one indivisible whole and all our concepts are mere abstractions representing certain parts or certain features of the whole. As soon as we try to think of any of them as things in themselves we become involved in inextricable contradictions. It appears as if the formal sciences contained some truths which were absolute and independent of actual reality. But let any one think of any number, of 2 or 3, and he will soon find that conceived as absolute beings they are meaningless and unthinkable.

This is not to say that numbers are phantoms, but that conceived as absolute beings they are phantoms. Numbers and all formal concepts represent something real, they represent pure forms. And form is as much a part and feature of reality as is matter and energy.

P. C.

FOOTNOTES:

BOOK REVIEWS.

Belief in God. Its Origin, Nature, and Basis. Being the Winkley Lectures of the Andover Theological Seminary for the Year 1890. By Jacob Gould Schurmann. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons. 1890.

The learned Sage Professor of Philosophy in Cornell University, after tracing the historical origin and development of the belief in God, expresses his conviction that the problem of the modern theist consists in the union of the Aryan and Semitic modes of interpreting existence. We shall then have “a synthesis of the Father of all spirits with the ground of all nature.” This is the hypothesis developed in the course of the lectures delivered by Professor Schurmann last year before the Andover Theological Seminary on the Winkley foundation, that form the contents of the present volume. The theism embodied in that hypothesis is called by the author anthropocosmic, because, while it is based on the facts of the universe and those of human nature, the universe must be interpreted in the terms of man, and not man in the terms of the universe. The key to the universe is the self-conscious spirituality which makes us selves and persons. Hence anthropocosmic theism is the doctrine of a Supreme Being “who is ground both of nature and of man, but whose essence is not natural but spiritual.”

Before considering the evidence for this hypothesis, let us see what the author has to say with reference to the logical character of the belief in God. He shows that agnosticism—of which he treats under its three significations as referring to the method of knowledge, the object of knowledge, and the subject of knowledge—is not consistent with the insight into nature and the constitution of knowledge gained by the Newtonian method of hypotheses and verifications. Science, as opposed to pure phenomenalism, assumes that what has not originated in the percipient subject is objectively real, and it postulates the universality of law in nature, a postulate which is the expression of a conviction of “the unity and universal inner connection of all reality.” The objective world cannot be understood without reference to our own conscious experience, and as the only reality we know from the inside is a spiritual ego, self-conscious spirit must be ascribed to the one ultimate reality whose existence science assumes, as that which will alone satisfy the requirement of unity in the midst of change.

It might be objected here, that the existence in man of a spiritual ego requires proof before that of a universal spirit or world-soul can be inferred from it. The author takes the existence of the ego for granted, a course which is quite allowable from the theistic standpoint, although, in the face of what is now known as to the dissolution of the ego under abnormal conditions of the organism, not scientific. Having made that assumption and inferred the existence of God from that of the human spirit, the author explains the nature of the one by reference to that of the other. He tells us, that the finite spirit is identical, within the limits of its range, with the infinite spirit, because it is an ego, and that in the ego we have, not merely a mode of the divine activity, but a part of the divine essence. Such being the case, the author has no difficulty in inferring the attributes of God from the phenomena exhibited by man. Thus God is a God of righteousness because the moral capacity in the human spirit must have its ground in the infinite Spirit. Again universal benevolence or love is the ideal of which human morality is the realisation; hence we must conceive of the Spirit of the universe as a God of love.

We do not think the author’s final conclusion, that “the phenomena both of the universe and of human life require the thinking mind to postulate a Supreme Ground of things which we are entitled to describe as self-conscious Spirit and loving Father,” is warranted by his premises. But we can accept the statement that our knowledge of God must continue to grow with our knowledge of man and nature. Through these alone can we know Him, but the difficulty is to interpret the revelation. Let it be admitted also that the end of nature is the production of man, and that what is referred to by the author as the human spirit is “the organ of that communication of God which is the end of the universe.” This does not in reality throw any light on the nature of God. The utmost that can be said is that, as man is an organism possessing certain functions, the universe, viewed as God, must have an organic existence with functions corresponding to those exhibited by the human organism.

The author’s reasoning in support of the belief in God as cause or ground of the world, and as realising purpose in the world is very ingenious. He affirms that the creational form of the argument from causality is insufficient. It satisfies the devotional needs of a certain class of worshipers, but what the religious, as well as the scientific, consciousness demands is a God “here in the world, not there outside of it or making it.” It has not yet been shown that the universe has had a beginning in time, and the argument in favor of the eternity of matter ends with an assurance of the eternity of spirit alone. Spirit is the eternal reality, and nature its eternal manifestation, the latter being no more separable from the former “than the spoken word from the thought it symbolises.” The causal relation is, however, absolutely necessary for our apprehension of the facts of the universe, and as it cannot be interpreted without contradiction as an action between independent beings, it must be explained as the eternal dependence of the world upon God. This implies that God must be volitional as well as self-conscious; “for without will there could be no activity, no efficient causation, no material universe.” The universe is thus the eternal expression of the divine will. But what is the purpose realised in creation? The activity of the divine will precludes the notion of a blindly working nature. As creation is the eternal self-revelation of God, the supreme and preconceived end of all things must be the glory of God. But man is indispensable for the attainment of God’s glory, and therefore the end of nature as a realised scheme of divine ideas is the production of man. The volitional and teleological arguments as thus stated by the author are consistent with the theory of evolution developed by Darwin, but they may be combatted on other grounds connected with the conditions of the existence of God as one with Nature. With this observation, we must leave Professor Schurmann’s very thoughtful book which, although for the reasons we have stated, not conclusive, presents the theistic argument with great clearness and in its strongest form.

Ω.

Judaism and Christianity. A Sketch of the Progress of Thought from Old Testament to New Testament. By Crawford Howell Toy. Boston: Little, Brown & Co. 1890.

This work is another contribution to that genuine history which is alone competent to impart any true instruction. In it the author undertakes to give an account of the genesis of Christianity as a child of Judaism.

It seems to be the thesis of the author that those conceptions and beliefs that characterise any form of religion are rather determined by the social evolution than that the social progress and its features are determined by the evolution of ideas among which the religious ideas are specially influential. In his introduction the author sketches out his view of the general laws of social progress as the same are related to religious thought. He notices in history the tendency of ethnic religions to give way to or to develop into universal religions, and argues that Christianity is destined to overcome all its rivals and prevail universally. This kind of a conclusion is a natural one to follow from the theory that the character of thought is determined by social circumstances and progress. But if it be true that the special course of the evolution of thought and its characteristic form at any epoch is determined by causes that are uncontrolled by social conditions, that as between thought and society thought is the masterful factor, then quite another conclusion may ensue. But the dubitable nature of the main thesis of the work does not much detract from the great excellence of the work in general. As a history of the evolution of Jewish religious conceptions and beliefs from the very first until the establishment of Christianity, it is in the highest degree interesting and instructive.

After a discussion of the literature of the Jews and the formation of the canon, the author proceeds to describe in full detail the nature genesis and mutations of the cardinal religious doctrines as they revealed themselves to the Israelite, Jewish, and early Christian insight. The entire body of the data are interpreted in consonance with the modern scientific idea of the organic nature of society. Jesus is regarded as the master spirit that created the Christian Church, and Paul whom many would install as the real author of the same is accordingly given only a second place. Altogether it may be said that Professor Toy has given us a most valuable contribution to religious history and to the scientific interpretation of the same.

ρσλ.

Pronaos to Holy Writ. Establishing, on Documentary Evidence, the Authorship, Date, Form, and Contents of each of its Books, and the Authenticity of the Pentateuch. By Isaac M. Wise. Cincinnati: Robert Clarke & Co. 1891.

Rabbi Isaac Wise, the president of the Hebrew Union College of Cincinnati and the Nestor of Orthodox Judaism in America, presents in the “Pronaos to Holy Writ” a review of the Biblical books with comments as to their authenticity and the times in which they were written. Having read these “books and every word thereof in the original for a term of sixty-six years, i. e. from boyhood up to his seventy-second birthday,” and having “acquainted himself with all the ancient versions and commentaries and a large portion of the modern translations and commentaries of the Bible,” the author is entitled to be heard. Rabbi Wise is a stern monotheist and he declares: “God only did create light out of darkness; man cannot produce truth out of fiction, unless in his self-delusion problematic truth satisfies him. All so-called gems of truth buried under the quicksand of fiction and deception are problematic at best, if not supported by authoritative corroborants.” This is true. All truth depends upon verification. We cannot make truth, but must find it, we must be able to corroborate it, and the corroborants of truth are its authority. Dr. Wise’s idea of a corroborant is different from ours, he says: “No one can speak conscientiously of Bible truth before he knows that the Bible is true, and especially in its historical data.” This seems to indicate that we must have a belief in the truth of the Bible before we investigate it and that moral truths, the ethics, the philosophy of the Bible depend upon its historical data. We cannot go so far with the author of the Pronaos. Dr. Wise says: “The science commonly called Modern Biblical Criticism, actually Negative Criticism which maintains on the strength of unscientific methods that the Pentateuch is not composed of original Mosaic material, no Psalms are Davidian, no Proverbs Solomonic, the historical books are unhistorical, the prophecies were written post festum, there was no revelation, inspiration, or prophecy, must also maintain that the Bible is a compendium of pious or even impious frauds, wilful deceptions, unscrupulous misrepresentations.” Dr. Wise thought it necessary to meet Negative Criticism with the documentary evidence and for this purpose he wrote his Pronaos, which is to be an entrance-hall to the Temple of Biblical Truth. We do not side with the negativism of certain biblical critics, for we believe that historical investigations have proved large portions of the Pentateuch to be Mosaic, several psalms to be Davidian, and the historical books to contain as much history as many old historical books contain. We believe that they have to be judged and searched and commented just as much and in the same spirit of scientific inquiry as our philologists treat Herodotus or Livy. But the value of the Bible, in our opinion, does not depend upon the acceptance or rejection of these or those historical data; nor is it necessary to consider the Hebrew prophets as special revelations of God, in contradistinction to the divine revelation in nature and the history of mankind in general. It may be true enough that the orthodox God-idea of Monotheism depends upon the belief in special revelation and prophecies, and it is also true that most of the Biblical criticism has been destructive and negative. But there is a way possible between both standpoints which may be called positive criticism. This positive criticism attempts to understand the very life and meaning of the old religion, it attempts to comprehend the belief of the orthodox and construe it in the terms of science—i. e. of rational and clear thought. Religion is certainly not a mere fraud or a vain illusion, it is an ideal which developed naturally out of certain needs of man and the conditions of society. That religious ideas, especially the idea of God as the cosmic power which represents the moral authority, are no mere fictions, is proved by their survival, and those who believe in evolution should not be blind to the fact that there is something good, something true, something well adapted to surroundings in religion. To find these elements of truth and goodness which constitute the life of religion is not mere negative criticism, but positive criticism, and it is not at all necessary for those who aspire in this direction, to believe in any historical data, or in special revelations, or in prophecies, or in the personality of God, but simply to trust in truth. Truth is the only way of salvation even though it may shatter the most sacred idols of a venerable orthodoxy.

The contents of the book show that the standpoint of the author does not blind him to the finer traits of the natural development of his religion. So, for instance, Solomon’s rationalism is excellently contrasted with the spirit which manifested itself in the Judges as well as the Prophets. The author of the Judges was an outspoken theocratic democrat. “He literally pours out his abhorrence of the monarchical anti-theocratic institution in narrating the story of the first usurper Abimelech, the son of Gideon.... Entirely different are the language and tendency of the two appendices, evidently written by another author, who evinces his animosity to the democratic form of government by saying four times: ‘In those days there was no king in Israel,’ to which he adds twice ‘every man did what seemed right in his sight’” (p. 46). “The Solomonic ethics is a commentary on the Mosaic ethics, as by reason understood.... Man’s knowledge of ethical doctrine is identical with his knowledge of God’s moral attributes, and all moral obligation has its root in the Mosaic God-idea....” According to Solomon “wisdom based upon and rooted in the fear of Jehovah with the revealed material before them was all-sufficient, without any further special oracles of any prophets. This peculiar rationalism brought upon him the ire of prophets and rabbis” (p. 111).

Some reviewers of Dr. Wise’s book will probably find fault with him that he has taken little if any account of the results of modern biblical investigations. And this is a grievous fault in our times where it seems to be essential for a scholar and author to have read the very latest things published on a subject while an acquaintance with the views of the classical old authorities is considered unnecessary. It appears that Dr. Wise did not intend to present his views or criticisms of and his answers to the latest biblical investigations. It may even be that he is not familiar with many of them. Granting this to be a fault of his book it is, nevertheless, refreshing to us to find an author who has actually read and is excellently familiar with all the old sources of the subject he is writing upon.

κρς.

The Foundations of Geometry. By Edward T. Dixon. Cambridge (Eng.): Deighton, Bell & Co. 1891.

This work is divided into three parts, the first containing such doctrines of psychology and logic as the author deems sound and useful for his purposes, the second exhibiting the author’s “subjective theory of geometry deduced from the two fundamental concepts position and direction,” and the third “on the applicability of the foregoing subjective geometry to the geometry of material space.”

In his preface the author expresses his desire that those who criticise his work shall “consider categorically” certain questions relating to his theory of definition, to the definitions and axioms prescribed by him, to his proofs of propositions and to the “objective applications” of his three axioms.

Geometry may be studied for two distinct purposes, neither of which necessarily involves the other. Unless the aim is mainly the discipline of the logical faculty, it is plainly a poor method of study to pore over the definitions, axioms, postulates, theorems, problems, and demonstrations of Euclid or any similar text-book. Practical resources and geometrical information can be acquired much better and more rapidly by a course of mechanical drawing with here and there a more or less loose explanation of the grounds and reasons that warrant the geometrical doctrines, than by means of the Euclidian course. Under such a method of instruction the student would rarely feel any real doubt as to the truth of his geometrical knowledge.

But where the paramount aim is the training of the reason the Euclidian rigor is all important. Hence the perfection of that method by the discovery and certification of the ultimate grounds on which, and the principles by which, it may be unfolded systematically and in necessary and sufficient sequence without presumption or fallacy, is an object of the most momentous concern to science, to philosophy, and to culture in general. For it is well known that however good an account elementary geometry may give of its superstructure the reports given of its foundations are all very far from satisfactory.

Repeated and strenuous efforts have been made, and by the most competent of our race, to discover and certify the true state of the case in respect to the geometrical foundations, in order that the whole edifice of that science shall display throughout the same thorough-going necessity and sufficiency that distinguishes it in general.

The author of the work under review is persuaded that he is now able to perform this so desirable service. He avers his belief that the system of geometry he “has set forth in this book is logically sound and that consequently the more it is discussed and criticised, the more firmly will it become established.” He takes his stand upon two fundamental concepts, position and direction, which he defines not explicitly but “implicitly.” This leads us to consider his first question and his theory of definition.