II.

GERMANY.

One of our foremost psychiatrists, Professor v. Krafft-Ebing of Vienna, says in his celebrated text-book on psychiatry: “If Pedagogy made a more serious study of the character of man in his psychopathological relations, many of the mistakes and severities of our system of education would be removed, many an unsuitable choice of vocation would be left unmade, and thus many a psychical existence rescued.”

Any one who is at all familiar with the most important doctrines of the diseased phenomena of mental life, and who knows how frequently psychical disturbances of a more or less serious nature occur during childhood, will fully agree with Krafft-Ebing, and will only regret that pedagogy, in this important direction, has completely neglected its task.

Although lately the necessity of psychiatric knowledge for the pedagogue has been insisted upon in professional circles, for instance, by Professor STRUEMPELL in his _Pedagogic Pathology_ (comp. _The Monist_ II, 106), yet instruction in this department occupies a wholly subsidiary place in pedagogic education, and has not been made as it should have been, an organic part of the same. The writer of these lines has accordingly discussed this subject in a special treatise, maintaining that the most important diseased phenomena of mental life might be treated as a part of pedagogic psychology (comp. _The Monist_ I, 619).

The demands made were met in different ways. While the English and American press accepted these demands without reserve (for instance, in HALL’S _Pedagogical Seminary_, I, 297), in Germany there has been more caution displayed, inasmuch as the opposing difficulties were regarded as greater than they probably were (Professor REIN’S _Pädagogische Studien_, 1892, Heft I).

We have, however, simply to call to mind the doctrine which more than twenty years ago Maudsley in his “Physiology and Pathology of the Mind” laid such special emphasis upon, that psychic laws are the same in healthy and diseased phenomena, only that they do not operate under the same conditions and therefore produce different symptoms. Far from its being true, therefore, that the introduction of psychopathology into psychology can be opposed by any especially well-founded objections, such a procedure will, on the contrary, be found to be, just as Maudsley said, an appropriate and absolutely indispensable auxiliary of the study of this science. And that which was emphasised by Maudsley, and lately also by MUENSTERBERG in the treatise already discussed in _The Monist_ (II, 289), _On the Problems and Methods of Psychology_ (Leipsic, 1891, Abel), Ziehen has done in his “Outlines of Physiological Psychology” in a manner which will be full of suggestions for the pedagogue (comp. _The Monist_ I, 598).

To be sure, the work of Ziehen is very far from supplying all that the pedagogue needs. We have in this work a vast mass of valuable observations, which will have to be elaborated in a manner that accords with the needs of pedagogy, if this science is to derive any material profit from psychiatry. For the bibliography of this subject we shall refer the reader to a former correspondence of ours (_The Monist_ II, 103), and select at present for examination one province only,—a province which is deserving of especial consideration, inasmuch as the phenomena which occur in it are phenomena which most frequently confront the pedagogist, and are most likely to be overlooked by the untrained eye. We refer to the _psychopathic subsidiary phenomena_ of DR. KOCH, by which expression this author comprises all the psychical irregularities, be they natural or acquired, affecting the life of the human personality, which, though not even in the severest cases amounting to actual mental disorders, yet in the most favorable instances so affect the persons afflicted that they appear as lacking the full possession of mental normality and capacity. The second part of Koch’s work, mentioned in _The Monist_ in the place above cited, has just now appeared. (Ratisbon, 1892, Otto Maier). Having discussed in the first part of his work inherited and chronic psychopathic subsidiary phenomena, the author now proceeds to discuss acquired subsidiary factors, and holds out the prospect of a third part, on the appearance of which we shall have occasion again to discuss the entire work from a different point of view. For the present, only the pedagogic aspect of the question interests us. On many readers, Koch’s book must have made the impression,—to judge from his concluding remarks,—that the author shares Lombroso’s point of view, and to very many pedagogues such a position would be, from the very outset, a bad recommendation, for it would necessarily, in the very nature of the case, involve the pedagogue in great embarrassment, in the same way as it has involved the philosophical jurist. But embarrassment is no reason why we should close our ears to the truth, and if Lombroso should be right in all his teachings, pedagogy would also be obliged to accommodate its doctrines to his. Upon the whole, however, Koch is opposed to him. Thus when he says: “What I commend Lombroso for is that he has observed much, has collected rich materials, and has been the source of great incentives in many directions, and has worked suggestively in many ways; what I reproach him with is that he has confounded the healthy with the diseased, and has brought under one and the same category without sufficient and appropriate tests, psychotic phenomena and phenomena which are psychopathically merely of a subsidiary order; what I reject is his theory of degeneration and his peculiar views of philosophy.”

Material, such as Koch and others offer, must first be elaborated into a pedagogic psychopathology—or better still into a pedagogic pathopsychology—before pedagogy, as a whole, can assume in this direction the proper form. Though we consider, now, this preparatory work as indispensable, we can, nevertheless, not think of denying the value of works which, without any profession of far-reaching psychological analysis, put in effective and available form for pedagogy the diseased phenomena of the mental life of children. The first German work of this kind, so far as we know, is from the pen of a Leipsic teacher, GUSTAV SIEGERT, and bears the title _Problematische Kindesnaturen_.[48] This little work is now followed by a more comprehensive treatise, published by a Bremen alienist, Dr. SCHOLZ, already known to the readers of _The Monist_ (II, 104), and bearing the title _Die Characterfehler des Kindes, eine Erziehungslehre für Schule und Haus_.[49] Such books are valuable not only for the observations they offer and the isolated explanations and pedagogic advice they present, but also for the suggestions which the attentive and psychologically cultivated reader can always receive from them.

Like Siegert, Scholz principally shows us isolated child-types wherein diseased qualities play a more or less pronounced rôle. But while the former’s presentation is somewhat journalistic in style, that of the latter is more didactic; although this tendency is not an absolutely rigid one, as the author counts mothers as readers of his book. But if the form of presentation leads one to infer greater profundity in Scholz than in Siegert, this is in still higher degree the case with the arrangement of the material. While Siegert strings his child-pictures loosely together, Scholz arranges them according to real psychological points of view, so that (remarkable to say) the faults of children are discussed, first, in the province of feeling and sentiment, then in that of representation, and finally in that of volition and action. The introductory and concluding chapters show, also, that Scholz attempts to enter more profoundly into the subject than Siegert proposes, and we cherish the hope that, now that this popular work has appeared, Scholz will very soon present us with a strictly scientific book, in which he shall have occasion to deal with some particular points, such as, for instance, falsehood and unchastity, more comprehensively than was perhaps possible in a book intended for his present circle of readers.

With respect, now, to all systematic presentations of pedagogy, psychopathology can, as we have before indicated, never attain in them its proper position, until the above-mentioned preparatory work has been completed. But this fact should not preclude one’s calling especial attention to the importance of this province, at least in some incidental manner.

In such a work as the _Allgemeine Pädagogik_ of ZILLER,[50] for instance, the third edition of which has just been published by F. Mattes of Leipsic, there surely was abundant opportunity to do this—an opportunity which one might say almost amounted to obligation. For Ziller treats hereditary and acquired characteristics in great detail, and such treatment remains necessarily a one-sided one, if abnormal traits are not considered in it. Ziller, with Herbart, demands that individuality always be taken as the starting-point. But how many child-individualities are there, which, in the different periods of their development, may be regarded as fully normal!

The reason of this omission must be looked for partly in the circumstance, that Ziller, as well as the new editor of this otherwise valuable work, belongs to the Herbartian school. If, namely, we compare the psychological literature of the Herbartian school with the publications of French, English, and American writers, or even with the works which in recent times have issued from other philosophical quarters of Germany, it will be unmistakably seen that the pathological conditions of the mind have been little considered by the followers of Herbart. Nor have voices been wanting, that would make Herbart himself responsible for this error. He did not, they say, sufficiently appreciate the importance of the pathological phenomena of mind, and his pupils were in this respect influenced by him. But this reproach will be found, on close examination, to be untenable. Herbart, it is true, did express himself repeatedly against the overestimation of “rare and curious phenomena,” unusual mental states and such things,[51] and his warning is applicable also to our epoch, which produces many psychological works in which remarkable things are to be read but which contribute nothing worth mentioning towards the explanation of even comparatively simple events. Herbart holds, that the psychology of the normal and ordinary states should be the first and principal object of scientific attention; the explanation of much that is extraordinary will then follow. With regard to this latter point, he remarks very positively: “I do not, however, wish by this, to gainsay the value of any real psychological observation. There must be a welcome place in science for every experience.” It will be seen, therefore, that Herbart is not at all far from the point of view of Maudsley and other investigators. We find, in fact, that he mentions repeatedly abnormal mental conditions, and also systematically treats them, even quoting such celebrated alienists as Reil and Pinel (_Text-book of Psychology_, §§ 142-149). The probability is, therefore, that psychopathology would have been properly employed in Herbart’s psychology, if it had been at all elaborated in his day, and its influence would through Herbart have been directly felt in pedagogy, as no pedagogist has made better or more careful use of psychology than he.

But Herbart’s pupils have done no further work in the province pointed out by him. It is true, his psychology has been made use of by physicians like Griesinger and Spielmann, and recently also to some extent by Krafft-Ebing, but the works of these men have had no influence on the psychological text-books of the Herbartian school, and consequently the science has up to the present day exerted no noticeable influence on pedagogy, either in Waitz, in Stoy, or in Ziller. In other pedagogic schools, this has, it is true, also been the case; but in these, who make no pretensions of relying on the teachings of psychology, the sin is more easily pardoned. But this is not the only respect in which Ziller’s _Pedagogy_ is not up to the times. Ziller defined pedagogy as the influences, formed according to ethical points of view, which are brought to bear on the mind of the pupil, and would not admit influences brought to bear on the body, in so far as such should enter into the pedagogic system. This misconception also springs from Ziller’s adherence to the Herbartian school, which represents, as we well know, a metaphysical pluralism; but it is in a still higher degree due to the fact, that in Ziller’s day both the intimate relation between physiological and psychological processes had not been satisfactorily established, and also were not sufficiently known to him. If it were otherwise, his pluralism need by no means have necessarily led him into such one-sidedness, for this metaphysical pluralism does not exclude a monistic conception of _phenomena_; even assuming this doctrine, one may say that motion and feeling are two different but inseparable sides of the same phenomenon. The “real things” produce by their interaction, simultaneously and of necessity, both an inner side and an outer; for which reason one of our foremost psychologists, Volkmann of Volkmar, explicitly terms Herbart’s psychology monistic (_Text-book of Psychology_, second edition, I, 63).

A psychologico-physiological work, from which the new editor of Ziller’s _Pedagogy_ might have extracted many valuable things, is the book of the Italian MOSSO, _On Fatigue_, which has just been translated into German,[52] and which will excite much attention owing to the present active discussion of the question of overwork.

Supplementary to this work I will also mention a little tract by DR. BURGERSTEIN of Vienna, entitled _Die Arbeitskurve einer Schulstunde_.[53] This tract is a lecture, which the author gave at the Seventh International Congress for Hygiene and Demography at London, and in which he seeks to find by statistical methods, the duration of a “school-period”—a very laboriously composed treatise and one difficult to read, but possessed of high interest in psychological and pedagogic respects.

From pedagogy to evolution is but a step, at least it is in Ziller’s development of Herbart’s ideas. It is true, Ziller has taken a decided stand against Darwinism, for Ziller works with two contradictory ideas; but his theory of education possesses points of resemblance and analogy to the Darwin-Haeckel theory of development. According to Ziller, each individual passes, also intellectually, through all the stages of development that mankind at large has passed through, only in a shorter time; and it is in conformity with such succession that the order of the various courses of a pedagogical system is to be arranged. Following Ziller’s precedent, PROFESSOR VAIHINGER, of Halle, in his treatise _Naturforschung und Schule_ (Science and the Schools), has taken up the school-reform initiated by Professor Preyer, and has expressly transferred the fundamental law of biogenesis to pedagogy. How instruction is to be arranged under this point of view, cannot be explained in this letter, which is already long enough. We shall simply remark that the idea has found in Germany a large number of both friends and opponents.

The opponents have recently been joined by a natural scientist, DR. HAMANN, professor of zoology in Göttingen, who has just published a book under the title _Entwicklungslehre und Darwinismus_ (Evolution and Darwinism),[54] in which he does not combat the theory of evolution itself, but simply the Darwin-Haeckelian form of that theory, placing himself in the ranks of His and Hensen. The book appeared almost simultaneously with the fourth edition of HAECKEL’S _Anthropogeny_,[55] but the author, nevertheless, in his supplementary remarks, discusses the “apology” which Haeckel subjoined to his work. Haeckel’s book needs no recommendation in scientific circles; it will be sufficient to state that the work has been subjected to essential alterations, but that its fundamental features have remained the same.

A new psychology, on the Darwinian basis, by Prof. FRITZ SCHULTZE of Dresden, is now in course of publication, entitled _Vergleichende Seelenkunde_ (Comparative Psychology[56]). The first part, which treats of the fundamental principles of physiological psychology, has already appeared. On the completion of the work we shall have occasion to return to it.

CHR. UFER.

FOOTNOTES:

[48] _Problematic Child-natures._ Leipsic, 1890, Robert Vogtländer.

[49] _Faults of Character in Children, A System of Instruction for School and Home._ Leipsic. Eduard Heinrich Mayer.

[50] Compare also, _The Educational Review_ (New York), Vol. II, page 30.

[51] _Psychologie als Wissenschaft_, § 5.

[52] Salomon Hirzel, Leipsic.

[53] Hamburg, 1891, Leopold Voss.

[54] Jena, 1892, Hermann Costenoble.

[55] Leipsic, 1892, Engelmann.

[56] Leipsic, 1892.

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS.

A LETTER FROM MR. HERBERT SPENCER.

_To the Editor of The Monist_:

As I feel it a duty to reserve, for other purposes, the very small power of work now left to me, I am obliged to decline entering upon a controversy. I must leave readers to examine for themselves—little hoping, however, that they will do so.

One point only I wish to note. The use of the expression “forms of thought,” instead of “forms of intuition,” was simply an inadvertence; as will be manifest on observing that though I have used the wrong expression in the note, I have used the right expression in the text (p. 203), as also throughout my criticism of Kant’s doctrine in _The Principles of Psychology_, Part VII, Chapter IV, “The Reasonings of Metaphysicians,” § 399.

HERBERT SPENCER.

LOGIC AS RELATION-LORE.

In the French _Revue Philosophique_, in the August and September 1891 numbers of the same, M. George Mouret has an essay entitled “Mathematical Equality” in the course of which and as though subsidiary to his ostensible purpose he discourses upon the topics of relations and concepts and upon the fundamental elements of logic in general. His essay is really more important as a contribution to logical doctrine than as a treatment of mathematical equality.

The scope of his discourse will be seen by reference to his closing paragraphs in which he sums up what he considers to be the results achieved by him in his essay. Therein, he says that he has “treated of the general theory of the composition of concepts and relations and set the foundations of the logic of analysis and the logic of definition.”

I. THE SPENCERIAN AXIOM.

The determining factor of every philosophical dissertation is of course some very general supposition which is taken as established and which exercises a controlling influence over all the observations of its author.

In this case this determining supposition is found in what M. Mouret calls his “_axiom_ of _symmetry_.” The same is thus stated by him “_Two things which have the same symmetrical relations to a third thing have between them that same relation._”

M. Mouret is not one of those scholars that lack hospitality for other writings than those of their own nationality. From this fault so noticeable in the work of so many of the French scholars M. Mouret himself seems to be free. Indeed so far as regards the previous work done in the domain he sets himself to examine, he accords almost exclusive esteem to the writings of English thinkers. In fact he declares himself so far as regards his present topic a disciple of Mr. Herbert Spencer and puts his “axiom of symmetry” as an adaptation of that maxim of his said master which is of the tenor as follows, viz: “_Things which have a definite relation to the same thing have a definite relation to one another._” This maxim, as Mr. Spencer tells us, was suggested to him by a remark of the late eminent author who is known to the world under the pseudonym of George Eliot, who herself stated it under the form “_Things that have a constant relation to the same thing have a constant relation to each other._”

Those who are well acquainted with the psychology of Mr. Spencer will recognise that this maxim of his is made by him the very backbone of all his observations upon reasoning. If it has the validity which he imputes to it, it has an importance which it will be hard to overestimate, but if on the contrary, and as we shall submit, it is in every form in which it has been stated, certainly unsound and misleading, it is high time that its virtue should be brought into question.

The _dicta_ of the masters whether they first enounce the same or whether they only give currency thereto by their ratification are always proper subjects for special scrutiny. There is always found a disposition to accept them on their mere _ipse dixit_ without any attempt at criticism or independent observation. This is decisively _not_ the scientific mood or mode. The spirit of that modern leaven that is currently referred to under the name of Science is characteristically a critical one, and one that is considerably irreverent in regard to the authority of mere personality. In this it is happily distinguished from the spirit that has marked the past history of what may be called the “regular” schools of philosophy.

M. Mouret is not alone in his inadvertent esteem for the maxim in question. In the issue of _Mind_ for October 1891 Mr. L. T. Hobhouse publishes an article entitled “Induction and Deduction,” in which he gives an undue appraisal to the worth of the maxim under consideration, even though the author of the article seems to be well aware that said maxim stands in much need of qualification.

We venture to say that this maxim in all its forms has gained whatever currency it has enjoyed in virtue alone of the incompetent comprehension that too generally prevails in regard to the nature and characteristics of that sort of things that are relations.

A notable example of this lack of comprehension is supplied in the logical treatise of Mr. Carveth Read, a work ostensibly founded upon the significance of the category of relation and yet in which at the very start the author tells us that a relation is something which is indefinable.

II. IMPORTANCE OF RELATION-LORE.

This topic of relations is one that is neglected in a degree that reflects no credit upon the pretensions of those who undertake to instruct others in matters logical and philosophical. The thing itself is in the thinking of every one and the term and its derivations are in universal use. They are used as though they imported an idea that no one was liable to misapply or to misunderstand. The truth, however, is that of all the stock terms in our graver discourse this very word “relation” and its derivatives are the ones that are oftenest heard and read without any lucidity of mind concerning their proper intent as a part of their context. They are used with an assortment of meanings and non-meanings that are quite distracting to try to follow and quite vain to try and reconcile. In particular the difference between _relationship_ and _relation_, between the _ground_ or _foundation_ of the relation and the relation itself, between the plural fact, whether of tendency, interaction, transition, or _status_, that is a co-condition with the relations, and the relations that co-condition that same plural fact, is constantly ignored in thinking and in the expression thereof, to the more or less confusion in, and inconsequence of, the whole discourse delivered.

It is no slight commendation of the perspicacity of M. Mouret to observe that he has discovered that the way towards a resolution of the problems he sets himself to work out lies through what to him appears the altogether unexplored regions of relation-lore, for it is evident that he regards himself as a pioneer in this field.

III. WORKS ON RELATION-LORE IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.

In observing this we cannot but hold M. Mouret unfortunate in not having been put upon better lines of inquiry. He seems to have been wholly unaware of the treasures of investigation in this domain that exist in the English language and that for many years have been available for the student. His case in this respect is seen in the exaltation which he gives to the semi-popular discourses of Mr. Spencer and Mr. Read, as contrasted with the profound researches of DeMorgan and Boole and their disciples. It is evident that he has judged concerning the comparative quality of the various lines of English research not after an examination of his own, but after the current popular renown. For example, he speaks of the work of DeMorgan and Boole as presenting “only a simple mode of representing some of the logical laws” and as being “surrounded with a formidable and complicated apparel which disguises the value of their tentatives.”

Since M. Mouret is manifestly an earnest student of the topic of relation-lore this language shows that he has at best only a second or third-hand knowledge of what DeMorgan and Boole really did. He ought to have known that in the recondite field of research in question all really competent treatment of the same would be very far from having any “popular” quality. For a man to discourse of relation-lore in ignorance of what DeMorgan, the very father of the “Logic of Relatives,” accomplished is like discoursing of Darwinism in ignorance of “The Origin of Species.”

We opine that when M. Mouret shall have consulted the great memoir of DeMorgan in the tenth volume of the “Cambridge Philosophical Transactions” or better, when he shall have become acquainted with the more developed work of Mr. C. S. Peirce, to whom beyond question relation-lore is most indebted for its present state of progress, he will have a better esteem for the value of the “tentatives” of DeMorgan and Boole and their disciples. Mr. Peirce has published three principal papers on the subject in question. The first of these was published in 1870 in the ninth volume of the “Memoirs of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences.” Then in 1880 and in 1884, while Mr. Peirce was lecturer on logic at Johns Hopkins University, he published in the _American Journal of Mathematics_ two papers dealing more or less extensively with relation-lore. One of these his “_Hauptwerk_” as it is called by Professor Schroeder of Carlsruhe, appears in the third volume of the journal mentioned and the other in the seventh volume of the same. Mr. Peirce was one of the contributors to our new American “Century Dictionary,” and in that work under the definitions of Relation and Relativity there appears a summary treatment of the subject which is as we take it the work of Mr. Peirce and which might have given to M. Mouret hints which he would have appreciated. Also the editor of this magazine in his article “Are there Things in Themselves?” in the January 1892 number thereof incidentally touches upon the topic under consideration in such a way as to correct some of the more inveterate misconceptions.

IV. M. MOURET’S THEORY OF RELATIONS.

The article of M. Mouret is in so many points so excellent a discourse that the chief reflection one is inclined to make is that upon its own principles it ought to have been better. He seems to have been widely awake to the primordial nature of relations as philosophical data. He says: “Every notion or relation is a _function_ of relations more directly known and enters as a relational element into other relations less proximate to the common sources,” and also that “every concept or notion ought to resolve into a group of relations.”

By such tokens as these we naturally look to see M. Mouret making it his very first concern to explain fully the nature of those primordial data that are relations. Indeed he seems himself to be fully aware of this natural expectation for he says: “What then is a relation; what is a concept or notion? To this double question an answer is necessary and a precise answer not consisting in the substitution of one form of words for another form of words bearing the same meaning or no meaning at all.”

We cannot however find that he has done this. Instead of it and almost while saying that every concept and notion ought to resolve in a group of relations he announces, “What I have to examine is the constitution, the structure of these _relation-generating groups_.” Thus he starts with a synthesis when what is needed is analysis. He starts with supposing a group of relational elements indeterminate in number and proceeds to inquire as to the conditions that must subsist with regard to them, respectively and in combination, in order that a _definite_ relation may subsist as to a pair of the relational elements. These conditions he finds to be four in number. First, he finds that—

“It is necessary that every one of the terms of the group should be connected one to the other by _definite relations_; that between any two terms there must always be intermediate terms that connect them in a continuous way.” This he calls the condition of “Solidarity.” Secondly, he finds that there must obtain the condition of _Co-Existence_. By co-existence he intends—

“Not a definite co-existence in time, that is to say, a relation of simultaneity or concomitance, nor yet that established co-existence which constitutes the causal relation, but an indefinite co-existence independent of the order of its terms and of all consideration of time or duration.”

Having thus supposed his group all well stocked with relations, he proceeds to relegate most of them to the limbo of inconsequence by invoking a _principle_ which he calls the principle of _indetermination_. By virtue of this principle in every particular case the _particular determinations_ of all the terms become indeterminate and those of the intermediate terms doubly so. Thus the supposed facts of the case become fit for the existence of the _Third_ condition, that of _Abstraction_, and for the arising of a general concept or notion.

But corresponding to every concept or notion is its negative or opposite concept or notion. As this negative depends necessarily upon certain _particular determinations_ of the same terms that bear the _particular determinations_ and which being singly indeterminate admit of the positive concept or notion, there necessarily must obtain two systems of singly indeterminate _particular determinations_ relative to but incompatible with one another, and so relative that the negation of one set entails the obtaining of the other set, or in other words either set being negated entails the obtaining of the other set. These facts constitute what M. Mouret calls the _principle_ of _incompatibility_ and involve his _Fourth_ condition of _Relativity_ stated by him as follows:

“All the particular determinations of the extreme terms must not be compatible with the system and the negation of certain relations of the system must entail the negation of the relation which they make between the extreme terms.”

V. REFLECTIONS ON M. MOURET’S THEORY.

Now we cannot regard this as a successful attempt to explain the nature and characteristics of relations, or to unfold the involutions of relation-lore.

We fully realise that if every concept or relation resolves into a group of relations we must in some form or other take what are relations in reality as data to begin with, but this does not prevent us from taking our datum terms for our turn of explanation as not requiring at present any recognition other than as relational elements. What is needful as a prime requisite on the very start of any research in relation-lore is to obtain a clear idea of what is meant by a relation. Meanings are primarily matters of mental status. We have to determine the relation that subsists between the mind and the object through the mediating interpretation of a word, and the mental affection lies nearest and logically comes first. It may very well be that the mental affection requires correction, but this cannot take place until its faults are observed, and these cannot become evident until the mental affection is itself duly understood.

The disciples of that school of logic in which DeMorgan and Boole, both eminent mathematicians, hold so exalted a rank as discoverers, regard cognition as arising in consequence of brain functioning or _mental operation_ and study the results of this operation as yielding their import in dependence upon and only in dependence upon the proper operation in virtue of which they arise.

Now no cognition whatever, even of the most elementary sort, arises except in connection with and in consequence of that operation of the sensibility which is _distinction_. Distinction is of multitudinous and manifold aspects. In all its phases whether it be passive or active it is naught else than the arising or the assigning of relations. The attempt to posit an unqualifiedly absolute—that is, an unqualifiedly unrelated—universe of discourse must be futile and blank, necessarily and insuperably. Any form of notation that pretends to express such a universe of discourse, is only saved, if at all, from being unqualifiedly nonsensical, by standing as antithetical—that is, by being _related_ to forms of notation that express relation and nothing else than relation. This rigorously prime operation of distinction is not only pure relation-ing but it is of that sort of relation-ing that is at once a distinguishing and a conjoining. The “One and the Many” are insuperably implicit therein. Distinction having operated to various extents, and thereby various relations having come into view, we become aware of those items of experience that are objects or facts. Each and every one of these objects or facts are in truth distinguished and are therefore in no strict sense _indiscernible_ from each other, but since no science can possibly obtain in relation to mere particulars we find it useful to disregard various points of distinction that obtain in respect to various objects and facts and to converge our regard upon the points wherein distinction, not absolutely vanishes, but _tends to vanish_.

By this operation, which is _abstraction_, various objects and facts become in mental regard fit and useful to be taken as copies of one another and as indifferent for use in most of the turns of mental life.

There are indeed various relations, objects, and facts, with respect to which no further operation or operations of distinction than the mere distinctions of the time, the place, or the occasion of their various manifestations have been applied nor can without great difficulty be applied. But we are therefore by no means entitled to say that such are in truth irresolvable. Contrarily, and reasoning inductively we are justified in concluding that every relation, object, and fact will under analysis of adequate power resolve without limit into other relations, objects, and facts.

We are not yet prepared to see that the ultimate components of relations, objects, and facts resolve into relations, and nothing but relations, because we are not yet prepared with an explicit idea of the nature and characteristics of these elementary objects.

The study of M. Mouret since it starts with relations combining them under the conditions of Solidarity Co-Existence, Abstraction and Relativity, (which are nothing else than other relations or compounds of relations,) does not seem to us to advance us at all in the most fundamental requisite. He says no more than to say that in order for the groups of relations to generate further definite relations the relations thus grouped together must be related to one another and then that most of these relations must be disregarded.

M. Mouret distinguishes, with respect to a relation three factors, the _Matter_, or the relational elements grouped together, the _Form_, or the order in which the relational elements are arrayed, and the _Foundation_.

As his study of the topic of relations is professedly for the purpose of enabling him the better to solve the nature of the relation of mathematical equality, his success may be estimated by reference to his conclusions in regard to that relation. These are as follows: “The relation of equality is formed of undetermined matter, it possesses a binary form, and has for a condition a relation of indiscernibility between the two elements.”

Such conclusions appear to us to be impotent not to say erroneous. If two things obtain at all, they obtain as two and not one, in very virtue of being distinguished the one from the other. Except with regard to some more or less arbitrary distinctions, like the distinction between coincident points, all distinctions obtain only in virtue of some relation that can be nothing else than a point of _discernibility_. Numbers and other mathematical things are taken as not-different not because they are in truth indiscernible but because for the turn in hand their points of difference are irrelevant.

Concerning the much mooted question of the proper field of logic as a science M. Mouret holds it to be the “science of relations and general concepts.” Although we hold that logic is particularly concerned with the lore that is more directly related to the phenomena of erroneous thinking and its correction, the view of M. Mouret is not unacceptable. “Reasoning consists in the observation that where certain relations subsist certain others are found,” as Mr. Peirce has remarked.

VI. CONCERNING MEANINGS AND EXPLANATIONS.

As preliminary to our account of relations we will make an observation which seems to us of considerable use in connection therewith. It is not without its bearing on the theory of definition or rather upon the broader theory of explanation. With M. Mouret we hold that every concept and relation resolves into a compound of relations. Since relations are data that are absolutely elementary at least so far as we are at present instructed they are of course not subsumable under any other sort of data that are better known. Moreover, whatever explanation we here make must needs be made by means of written words. Thus an important question arises as to what method is to be pursued in this special exigency. The theory of definition leads us to the same difficulty, for although the meanings of many words can be defined in terms that are more proximate to the elementary relations, we will always come at last to terms that admit of no improved explanation by such a method. There is no device of words that can evade or supersede the ultimate recourse to things. Now the significations of words are learned in most cases not so much by definitions and verbal descriptions as by _the observation of the various applications of the words_. Indeed this is the primitive way in which the meanings of words are found out. The child knows nothing of what, say, the word _horse_ means until some one shows it an actual horse and may be pointing to it says repeatedly, _horse_, in such a way as to excite the observation of the child to the intended application of the word to the thing. This is because the relation of every general sign to its object subsists only in consequence of a mental association, and until this mental association is created the sign has no meaning. The methods of evoking these mental associations are at present quite unmethodical and do not receive the attention which their importance merits. One feasible method is to present or to state a number of scenes that shall present the object in various ways in connection with the sign thereof, and thus to excite attention to the proper application of the sign. The geometer does this by means of his diagrams without which or their mental counterparts all his mere words would be in vain.

Mr. Edward T. Dixon has lately published a work on the “Foundations of Geometry” in which he would introduce as a fundamental datum what is really an altogether new and exceedingly abstract conception which he calls by an old name, that of _direction_. The old term has never been as yet taken in any abstract universal sense because apart from definite right lines showing it as an attribute any abstract universal meaning is wholly unassignable. But the conception that Mr. Dixon would instal is removed in abstractness from such a universal yet one more step in universality. A three-fold infinity of right lines differing in direction can be drawn in ordinary space to each of which pertain two corresponding universals of direction, one converse to the other. Now the conception of direction that Mr. Dixon proposes for service as an elementary geometrical datum is the universal that subsumes all these lower ranking universals as particulars. Of course he has difficulty in even trying to explain what he means. Realising the impossibility of subsuming it in any way he takes a method which if it were more thoroughly applied, and wholly emancipated from the lingering notion of definition, might have been more successful. As he actually left the matter his real meaning can only be drawn from close study of the way in which he applies the term in his discourse in general.

Owing to its excessive abstractness his conception is wholly unfit for service in elementary geometry. One has to become a good geometer before the conception can even be approached.

VII. ANOTHER THEORY OF RELATIONS.

We shall proceed to explain what we regard as a true and adequate notion of a relation by stating some scenes that display the same. We do not regard it as needful to state many of them and we take for our first one, the common transaction of making a donation. We have here for relational elements or terms as they are usually called a set of three. Separately, or as not yet brought into relation in virtue of the giving, there may be, say _G_ an owner of _W_ a watch and _R_ the intended beneficiary. The plural fact of the giving is the _relationship_ or the _foundation_ of the _relations_ that arise in virtue of said giving. This _foundation_ becomes to be in virtue of the creation of such relations by the giving. Either one of the set of three may be taken as the datum of reference and according to the election in this respect, the relations may differ and the technical names we are about to give will vary in their application. Since simplicity will be gained thereby and also our present turn fully subserved we will take _G_ as the datum term of reference. So taking it _G_ is called the _relate_ and both _W_ and _R_ are called the _correlates_. For this present turn and in very virtue of the giving and only in virtue thereof _G_ becomes related to _W_ and _R_ in a certain relation one of the names of which is giver. When _W_ or _R_ are taken as relates certain other relations appear, some of the names of which are respectively _present_ and _recipient_. In relation to the relation of giver the relations of present and recipient are named _converse_ relations, as are likewise the relations of present and giver to the relation of recipient and the relations of giver and recipient to the relation of present. Here are three distinct relations growing out of the same relationship or foundation. As each relational element has its corresponding negation, the true logical system of a set of three terms involves not less than eight relations.

We take for our second scene the case of a boundary. This might be a surface or a point but we will take the special case of a line on a surface. Here we have again a set of three, the spread on one side, _A_, the opposite spread, _B_, and the line _L_. _A_ has a certain relation, say above, to _L_ and _B_, _B_ has the certain relation, below, to _A_ and _L_, which relation is converse to the relation above: and _L_ has the certain relation, boundary, to _A_ and _B_ which relation is converse to the relations above and below.

The two examples now given are cases of the _conjugative_ kind. The relationship is a conjugative one and the relations are conjugative relations. The distinguishing characteristic of a conjugative case is the fact essentially involved of the mediation between relational elements by another certain element, or in other words the bringing of diverse relational elements into relation by the function of another relational element. Without the mediation or function of this conjugating element neither the relationship nor the conjugative relations can exist. There is reason to believe that all conjugative cases can be certified as cases of three relational elements or as compounds of a number of such sets of three. To ordinary uncritical thought which is largely constrained by the trammels of ordinary language the most abundant sort of relations appears to be of that sort that are taken to involve only two relational elements. These are cases of what are called _dual_ relationships and the relations that arise out of them are called _dual_ relations. Such are those like father, son, husband, wife, etc. Strictly viewed they ought to be regarded as _degenerate_ relationships and relations just as a pair of lines is regarded as a degenerate conic.

VIII. CAUTIONS AND APPLICATIONS.

Now besides the error of confounding relations with relationship, it is a very common fault to think and speak of a relation as being _between_ two or more terms. This imports into thought the thoroughly misleading idea of an intervening independent existence for relations. Relations are attributive predicates of terms and each one of them pertains strictly to its proper term or combination of terms, in the same sense for this turn (_pro hac vice_) that qualities are held to pertain to their so-called substances. And yet relations so pertain to their proper terms not in virtue of such terms separately but in virtue of their membership in the plural fact which obtains as the _relationship_ or _foundation_. The notion of a relation as a “betweenness” has perhaps been fostered by the exact coincidence of relations pertaining to the several members of the same relationship. When on contemplating the connection, say of two points, we observe that the distance of one from the other is apparently indistinguishable from the distance of the other from the one, we naturally overlook the fact that we are truly to regard the connection as the coincidence of two really distinct relations, and regarding the pair of relations as one thing and finding it not attributable to one point more than to the other we dissociate it from both. But when we consider a pair of relations that are converse to one another and that arise out of a dual relationship like that of husband and wife we may see that there is _no_ betweenness, no single relation that interlies, but two relations, one the relation of husband and the other the converse relation of wife.

An interaction, say like that of approach under the influence of gravitation, is a relationship. Each body stands in the relation of a _puller_ of the other and the mediating term which we find impossible to argue out of the account we call the attraction of gravitation. In this case the relation of action of the one body is not usually distinguished from the relation of action of the other one. Indeed this is the case in all cases of mechanical action and we lay it down as a maxim that action and reaction are equal but they are not alike since their directions are opposite. Sensation is a relationship, since it is our interaction. The object interacts with the brain. As to the conjugating term we are as yet in the dark and so we are in the habit of regarding this case as a dual relation. The relation of the brain to the object is that of a _knower_ and that of the object to the brain that of a _stimulater_. Each character or mark of the object that becomes apparent gives rise to relations and their respective converses each correlative pair of which are respectively so many distinct interactions of detail in the entire interaction. Whatever an object as known to us is, it is in virtue of those relations of brain action and detailed object stimulation, which are relations and always relations. Since consciousness exists only by the arising of relations of distinction, supposably in consequence of internal brain interaction, is it presumptuous to allege that consciousness consists of relations or a complex of relations?

IX. NATURE OF OBJECTS.

With regard to the object no one can prevent whoever may be so disposed, from imputing to it various points of possession that do not and cannot interact with the brain. So far as such imputed points are regarded as merely not yet interacting but possible to interact with knowing substance such points in no wise differ in essential nature from the known attributes. They are potential relations and nothing else. But in so far as they are regarded as essentially impossible of ever interacting with knowing substance in any possible stage of its development such regard is pure nonsense and utterly without any assignable meaning. There is no occasion whatever for such an imputation, for the existence of interaction actual or potential is fully adequate to explain all that will ever present itself to be explained.

At this point let us instruct ourselves with an example of the reasonings of a much and deservedly honored philosopher. He says:

“In the most general predicate which is determined Being or existence—for all things in the universe are determined beings—we have an evident two-foldness (a composite nature) which allows of a further analysis into pure Being and determination.”

We will parallel this analysis. For the sake of simplicity we will take a limited right line. It has the determinations straight and long, not length in the sense of measure, for length is ambiguous in its intent, but length in its qualitative sense—its linearity so to speak. Now separate from it first its straightness without however giving to it any other determination, and then its quality of longness. We have then a _pure_ line, that is neither straight, nor long, nor anything else. Such is an example of “Pure Being.” _We_ say however that its very being as a line is absolutely dependent on its determination as a long line; that such a determination alone constitutes it a line, is at once its determination and its being, that there is no two-foldness at all but only two names, and that as one-fold its determination as long and its being vanish together. What is true of a line is true of all relations and compounds of relations whatever.

Thus not only all knowledge but all existence so far as that term can ever have any meaning is relative; relative to all intents and for every possible turn.

To those who accept the essentials of this account of relations it will be easy to see what is the nature of an object and that of a concept or notion. An object is a relation or some congeries of relations that usually present themselves as a coherent whole to our sensibility or to consciousness. This is primarily effected in virtue of some efficacy which we cannot appropriate to ourselves, and so we distinguish our own personality from that manifold that we call the objective world. It is pure self-stultification after having made this most useful distinction to try and abolish it. Nothing but an utter abolition of all useful thought can result from so taking the data of experience.

X. NATURE OF A CONCEPT.

But objects are individual and generally found with various points of distinction some of which are irrelevant to most of the turns of mental life. We therefore neglect the irrelevant points and take many objects as copies of one another. This process is _not_ the formation of the concept or notion but it suggests and prompts that formation. We cannot but regard it as an error to take a conception as a _sum_ of individuals. It seems to us to be rather in the nature of a _locus_. A curve contains an infinity of points and yet the curve is not any sum of points even though it is often allowable to speak of it as the sum of all its points. So any concept, say, man, is not all the men that now live nor yet all the men that eternity both backwards and forwards has contained and will contain. A concept is a manifold and strictly universal and infinite in respect to the particulars it subsumes. We speak of the infinitive mood of a verb because the meaning of the word as thus taken is not put under any modification. In like manner the meaning of any concept though subject to various limitations in its applications is as a concept merely to be regarded as obtaining in a purely infinitive sense. Professor Jevons found a difficulty in classifying what he called _material_ terms, such as stone, sand, water, etc. Other logicians have put such terms as singular terms, while still others have classed them as general terms. There is a great variety of such terms. Potatoes, wheat, butter, ice, cattle, water, hydrogen, the names of all the elements, ether, electricity, time, space, love, virtue, etc., are instances. It seems to us that such terms are the normal types of general terms and that the canonical forms of our universal propositions ought to be unquantified not only as regards the predicates but also as regards the subjects. Why not “man is animal” just as “lard is grease” or “man is mortal” just as “butter is cheap”?

Moreover the distinction between a general concept and one that is called singular is only one of degree and not of kind. Every so-called singular term is potentially at least only an individual instance under a possible general or universal concept. A striking example of this potentiality is furnished by the modern generalisations of that formerly singular term, space. If these observations are well founded, the universals of thought even though arising out of the facts of experience and rigidly beholden to experience for every last element out of which they are constructed, form nevertheless a Formal-Thought-World, and the mind of man in virtue of its powers of imaginative construction and generalisation has a constitution that enables it to subsume the actual objective universe as only one particular of a universality of a higher rank.

Under such a conception of the objective world and the world of thought and their relations the old dispute of realism versus nominalism would take a new aspect. _Universals in re_ even though they were admitted to exist would become universals no longer in the higher universe of thought. True universals would only subsist as universals of the world of mind. The laws of Form and Formal Thought would thus become of chief moment in philosophy and no one could be recognised as properly laying claim to the title of philosopher without proficiency therein.

XI. FALLACY OF THE SPENCERIAN AXIOM.

Concerning the “axiom of symmetry” only a few examples of its fallacy are needful. Mutual friendship is certainly a “symmetrical” relation, but _A_ and _C_ may be mutual friends and _B_ and _C_ mutual friends also, but it in no wise follows that _A_ and _B_ are friends. They may be decidedly unfriendly as we often see the case. Take a case of equilibrium the cases of which seem to be favorite ones with M. Mouret. We suppose that planets may be regarded as in a relation of equilibrium with the sun and yet these mere equilibrations with the sun do not make any equilibrium between them. They do not knock together it is true but this is due to their own direct relations and not their relations of equilibrium with the sun.

The distances of points from each other is a “symmetrical” relation and yet point _A_ may be from point _C_ the very same distance that point _B_ is from _C_, but the distance of points _A_ and _B_ from one another may vary from coincidence to double the distance _A C_-_B C_.

XII. NATURE OF ARITHMETICAL EQUALITY.

Concerning the relation of “mathematical equality” there is no single relation that obtains throughout mathematics as such. There is numerical equality upon which the equality in service in numeric algebra is founded, and there is geometric equality, the equality of vectors, etc., all different from one another. M. Mouret seems to have only numeric equality in view. He claims this relation to be not only of a very simple nature but that it is the very foundation of the notions of magnitude and quantity. He even declares that mathematics could not exist without this relation. Did he lose sight of the usual proof of Fourier’s celebrated theorem?

As we have explained, things that are distinguished are not really alike but only for certain turns taken to be so. This assimilation of things is of various grades. In arithmetic, meaning arithmetic in its most general sense, the only logical comprehension that the various numbers possess is respectively their greater or less partitionability; _m_ is the same as _n_ means in arithmetic that whatever has the numerical rank of _m_ has also precisely the numerical rank of _n_ no matter what summations or other numerical operations _m_ or _n_ may represent. Identity of this sort is arithmetical equality. It seems a simple relation for the reason that its intervention very decisively simplifies our arithmetical comprehensions. It is however a coincidence of two relations that are converse to one another. These relations are “not less than” and “not greater than.” It is universally admitted that the more inclusive a notion or concept is in extension, the more simple and primary it is than any other notion or concept included as an instance under it. Now all equality is “not less than” but not all “not less than” is necessarily equality; hence, “not less than” is a wider and more primary notion than equality. On the same considerations “not more than” is in the same case. Equality is the limiting case between the variable and logically more simple cases of “not less than” and “not more than.” The notion of quantity emerges on comparison however vague between any two objects that have size, independently of the notion of equality. If this were not true how could we have the notions of infinitely large and infinitely small.

It is indeed true that without the notion of equality the theory of numbers and the mathematical analysis could subsist in a rudimentary state only, but to say that they would not exist at all is rash and not maintainable. The relations “not less than” “not more than” would still allow of some truly mathematical propositions, operations, and calculations. In that essentially qualitative notation that is ordinary language the relation that corresponds to equality is of very limited range but a relation that is analogous to “not less than,” viz., supersumption, is very efficient.

With a theory of numbers and a mathematical analysis using only the relations “not less than” “not more than” in lieu of the relation of equality the fundamental operations, addition and substitution, would find some scope of application and hence the derivative operations, multiplication, powering, etc., and their inversions, subtraction, division, etc., would obtain in some fashion and to some extent. This can readily be seen by any one who is familiar with the way in which expressions of inequality are used in modern mathematical analysis.

FRANCIS C. RUSSELL.

OBSERVATIONS ON SOME POINTS IN JAMES’S PSYCHOLOGY.

II. EMOTION.

Nothing in Professor James’s work will be likely to strike the average reader as more paradoxical than his views on the subject of Emotion, which he must be allowed to state in his own words. After premising that he will limit his discussion, in the first instance, to what may be called the coarser emotions, as fear, grief, rage, love, in which every one recognises a strong organic reverberation, he goes on to say:

“Our natural way of thinking about these coarser emotions is that the mental perception of some fact excites the mental affection called the emotion, and that this latter state of mind gives rise to the bodily expression. My theory, on the contrary, _is that the bodily changes follow directly the perception of the existing fact, and that our feeling of the same changes, as they occur, is the emotion_. Common sense says, we lose our fortune, are sorry and weep; we meet a bear, are frightened and run; we are insulted by a rival, are angry and strike. The hypothesis here to be defended says that this order of sequence is incorrect, that the one mental state is not immediately induced by the other, that the bodily manifestations must first be interposed between, and that the more rational statement is that we feel sorry because we cry, angry because we strike, afraid because we tremble, and not that we strike, cry, or tremble, because we are sorry, angry or fearful, as the case may be. Without the bodily state following on the perception, the latter would be purely cognitive in form, pale, colorless, destitute of emotional warmth. We might then see the bear and judge it best to run, receive the insult and deem it right to strike, but we should not actually _feel_ afraid or angry.

“Stated in this crude way, the hypothesis is pretty sure to meet with immediate disbelief. And yet neither many nor far-fetched considerations are required to mitigate its paradoxical character, and possibly to produce conviction of its truth.

“To begin with, no reader of the last two chapters will be inclined to doubt the fact that _objects do excite bodily changes_ by a preorganised mechanism, or the farther fact _that the changes are so indefinitely numerous and subtle that the entire organism may be called a sounding-board_ which every change of consciousness, however slight, may make reverberate....

“The next thing to be noticed is this, that _every one of the bodily changes, whatsoever it be, is FELT, acutely or obscurely, the moment it occurs_....

“I now proceed to urge the vital point of my whole theory, which is this: _If we fancy some strong emotion, and then try to abstract from our consciousness of it all the feelings of its bodily symptoms, we find we have nothing left behind_, no ‘mind-stuff’ out of which the emotion can be constituted, and that a cold and neutral state of intellectual perception is all that remains. It is true that, although most people when asked say that their introspection verifies this statement, some persist in saying that it does not. Many cannot be made to understand the question. When you beg them to imagine away every feeling of laughter and of tendency to laugh from their consciousness of the ludicrousness of an object, and then to tell you what the feeling of its ludicrousness would be like, whether it be anything more than the perception that the object belongs to the class ‘funny,’ they persist in replying that the thing proposed is a physical impossibility and that they always _must_ laugh if they see a funny object. Of course the task proposed is not the practical one of seeing a ludicrous object and annihilating one’s tendency to laugh. It is the purely speculative one of subtracting certain elements of feeling from an emotional state supposed to exist in all its fulness, and saying what the residual elements are. I cannot help thinking that all who rightly apprehend this problem will agree with the proposition above laid down. What kind of an emotion of fear would be left if the feeling neither of quickened heart-beats nor of shallow breathing, neither of trembling lip nor of weakened limbs, neither of goose-flesh nor of visceral stirrings, were present, it is quite impossible for me to think. Can one fancy the state of rage and picture no ebullition in the chest, no flushing of the face, no dilatation of the nostrils, no clenching of the teeth, no impulse to vigorous action, but in their stead limp muscles, calm breathing and a placid face? The present writer, for one, certainly cannot. The rage is as completely evaporated as the sensation of its so-called manifestations, and the only thing that can be supposed to take its place is some cold-blooded and dispassionate sentence, confined entirely to the judicial realm, to the effect that a certain person or persons merit chastisement for their sins. In like manner of grief: what would it be without its tears, its sobs, its suffocation of the heart, its pang in the breast-bone? A feelingless recognition that certain circumstances are deplorable, and nothing more. Every passion in turn tells the same story. A purely disembodied human emotion is a non-entity.” (P. 449 seq.)

It is, of course, impossible for me to give all the arguments by which Professor James attempts to establish his position; the above quotations will make it clear what it is—namely, that all our “feelings” are sensations.

Before proceeding to consider some of the objections to this view of the matter, it may be well to notice briefly what seems to be a gap in the author’s treatment of it. In adult human beings, very few, comparatively, of what are ordinarily recognised as emotions follow directly upon the perception of their objects, in the ordinary sense of the word. His theory might perhaps suffice, without further explanation for such cases as the “spitting” of blind kittens at the smell of a dog, or the rage of a bull at the sight of a red cloth, or the startled feeling that we experience at a loud and unexpected sound, if the latter should be called an emotion. But in the immense majority of instances the emotions of which he treats arise in a very different way.

Some of his own illustrations will serve as well as any to show this. For instance, neither running nor any other of the symptoms of fear which he enumerates is the necessary result of seeing a bear. A chained or caged bear may excite only feelings of curiosity, and a well armed hunter might experience only pleasurable feelings at meeting one loose in the woods. It is not, then, the perception of the bear that excites the movements of fear. We do not run from the bear unless we suppose him capable of doing us bodily injury. Why should the expectation of being eaten, for instance, set the muscles of our legs in motion? “Common sense” would be likely to say it was because we object to being eaten, but according to Professor James, the reason we dislike to be eaten is because we run away. So, again, striking is not a reflex act, following on the hearing of an insult as sneezing does on taking snuff. Whether the muscular movements or the emotions are the primary thing, what both shall be depends on many things besides the words that are spoken. To be accused of drunkenness or unchastity, for instance, would dispose some persons to violence, but others might feel only the stirrings of pride at what they would consider a tribute to their manhood. In those who considered such a charge opprobrious, it might excite feelings of amusement, contempt, pity, or grief towards the one making it, according to the estimation in which he was held. To say that if it makes us strike we shall be angry, if it makes us laugh we shall be amused, if it makes us weep we shall be grieved, does not go to the bottom of the matter. According to the theory, the thought of the estimation in which we are held by others is, in itself, entirely indifferent to us, and only affects our feelings through the muscular movements it excites.

In view of the variety of these movements in response to the same physical stimulus in a case like this, the statement that objects excite bodily changes by a preorganised mechanism explains nothing. We want to know why in one case a given perception excites one set of movements, and in another an entirely different set. Without attempting to decide whether or not a satisfactory explanation can be given on Professor James’s hypothesis, I will only say, that, so far as I can see, he nowhere attempts it. In his section on “The Genesis of the Various Emotions,” (pp. 477 seq.), he only discusses the question how the various feelings come to be associated with their respective movements. How the movements come to be associated with the perceptions, he does not discuss at all.

Turning now to the considerations which Professor James urges in support of his theory, quoted above, the first two—that objects excite bodily changes and that these changes are more or less distinctly felt—may pass unchallenged. I am disposed to go as far with him as to admit that these feelings, in the cases which he describes, may properly be considered components of the emotional state. But when he affirms that there is nothing else—that if we subtract our consciousness of peripheral sensations there would be no emotion left—it seems to me that he is going very much too far. I should have no hesitation in saying that such a statement of the case is contradicted by my consciousness, but as that would be merely setting up my consciousness against his, without the possibility of an umpire, I will call attention to some other considerations which seem to me to render it improbable.

In the first place, it is to be noticed that the cases he instances in illustration of his position are all of violent emotions. Admitting that we cannot have these emotions, in such degree, without movements such as he describes, nor even imagine how they would feel if such a thing were possible, it does not follow because they cannot be separated that they are identical. We do not reason in this way in regard to those feelings which are not commonly called emotions. I can no more imagine myself in intense bodily pain without a tendency to groan and writhe than deeply grieved without a tendency to weep, and yet no one, probably, would say that the pain consisted solely in my consciousness of the groaning and writhing. If grief is a kind of pain, it is to be expected that, in a high degree, it will produce bodily movements more or less similar to those excited by other sorts of pain. All these emotions, however, are capable of infinite gradations in intensity. The fear of losing one’s pocket handkerchief is an emotion of the same kind as the fear of losing one’s fortune. In Professor James’s description of fear, it is evident that he has abject terror in mind; I hardly think it probable that he has any such sensations, when he fears, for instance, that he will be late to dinner, and yet he must be differently constituted from many of his fellow-men if his state of mind in such a case is merely a cold, intellectual cognition of the fact that such a state of affairs would be undesirable.

The same is true of the other emotions he mentions. The feeling of the ludicrous is, perhaps, the strongest case he cites, but in my own case slight degrees of amusement do not excite laughter, or even any conscious disposition to laugh. There is, at the most, in such cases, a tendency to smile, which may be overpowered by some other emotion, without in the least impairing my feeling of amusement. It seems to me certain that slight degrees of all the emotions mentioned may be unaccompanied by any distinct consciousness of reflex movements. In such cases it is only by a pretty strong effort of attention that we are able, if at all, to determine what the bodily changes are, although we are distinctly aware of the emotion.

Again, it is to be noticed that many actions, similar in character to those we have been considering, are not associated with what are commonly called emotions. Laughing and sobbing, for instance, are spasmodic movements of the muscles of respiration, not strikingly different from hiccuping, and there seems no good reason why the consciousness of the former two should usually be felt as strong emotional excitement, while the latter is not. In some cases, movements identical with those accompanying particular emotions may occur entirely independently of them. Shivering from cold, for instance, is the same sort of a movement as may occur in violent fright, but it does not make us feel frightened. The laughter excited in children and sensitive persons by tickling of the skin is not necessarily accompanied by any mirthful feelings. The act of vomiting may be the accompaniment of the most extreme disgust, or it may occur without a trace of such emotion. Professor James himself gives an instance of this sort that can hardly be bettered:

“The writer well remembers his astonishment, when a boy of seven or eight, at fainting when he saw a horse bled. The blood was in a bucket, with a stick in it, and if memory does not deceive him, he stirred it round and saw it drip from the stick with no feeling save that of childish curiosity. Suddenly the world grew black before his eyes, his ears began to buzz, and he knew no more. He had never heard of the sight of blood producing faintness or sickness, and he had little repugnance to it, and so little apprehension of any other sort of danger from it, that even at that tender age, as he well remembers, he could not help wondering how the mere physical presence of a pailful of crimson fluid could occasion in him such formidable bodily effects” (p. 457).

Here we have a condition such as is sometimes experienced in connection with the most extreme degree of fear or grief unaccompanied by any emotion except astonishment at its occurrence. I presume that if a person should faint on hearing bad news, Professor James would consider that one of the causes of his intense emotion. Why did it have no such effect in this case?

Assuming that the emotions are the effects and not the causes of what are usually reckoned as their “expression,” it seems evident that a given movement or set of movements must uniformly, at least in the same subject, give rise to the same feeling, and that in the case of opposite emotions such as joy and grief, hope and fear, the more intense the emotion, the more unlike must be the actions from which it arises. Neither of these is the case. On the contrary, it would seem to be the fact that the actions accompanying emotion tend to become more alike in proportion to its intensity. It is not at all uncommon for people to weep from excess of joy as well as of grief. Pallor and trembling are frequent accompaniments of the extremes of hope as well as fear. The naturalist Wallace gives an account of his feelings on capturing a rare and beautiful butterfly, which is worth quoting in this connection:

“The beauty and brilliancy of this insect are indescribable, and none but a naturalist can understand the intense excitement I experienced when I at length captured it. On taking it out of the net and opening the glorious wings, my heart began to beat violently, the blood rushed to my head, and I felt more like fainting than I have done when in prospect of immediate death. I had a headache the rest of the day, so great was the excitement produced by what will appear to most people a very inadequate cause” (“Malay Archipelago,” p. 342).

Here it is evident that a feeling of intense exultation gave rise to sensations very similar, to say the least, to those of extreme fear.

One other argument brought forward by the author deserves special notice in this connection:

“The best proof that the immediate cause of emotion is a physical effect on the nerves is furnished by _those pathological states in which the emotion is objectless_. One of the chief merits, in fact, of the view which I propose, seems to be that we can so easily formulate by its means pathological cases and normal cases under a common scheme. In every asylum we find examples of absolutely unmotived fear, anger, melancholy, or conceit, and others of an equally unmotived apathy, which persists in spite of the best of outward reasons why it should give way. In the former cases we must suppose the nervous machinery to be so ‘labile’ in some one emotional direction that almost every stimulus (however inappropriate) causes it to upset in that way, and to engender the particular complex of feelings of which the psychic body of that emotion consists. Thus, to take one special instance, if inability to draw deep breath, fluttering of the heart, and that peculiar epigastric change felt as ‘precordial anxiety,’ with an irresistible tendency to take a somewhat crouching attitude and to sit still, and with perhaps other visceral processes not now known, all spontaneously occur together in a certain person; his feeling of their combination is the emotion of dread, and he is the victim of what is known as morbid fear” (p. 458).

Now, it is evident, of course, in such a case as this, that such a combination of feelings as is here described is not a fortuitous coincidence of so many independent sensations. They must have a common starting-point, which cannot well be elsewhere than in the brain. But if this is the case, it seems to me to be begging the question to assume that the sensations and not the emotion are the primary thing. On the assumption that fear, in the normal condition, is the cause of the disturbances of respiration, circulation, and the like, which accompany it, it is as easy to formulate normal and pathological cases under a common scheme, by supposing it to be the cause of the like disturbances in cases of morbid fear, as on the theory of Professor James.

It seems to me, then, that the theory does not satisfactorily account for the facts, so far as the involuntary, reflex accompaniments of motion are concerned.

The difficulty is greatly increased when we consider the relations of emotion to voluntary action. We have seen that reflex acts, similar to, or identical with those in which Professor James believes emotion to consist, may occur independently of emotion, in the ordinary acceptation of the term, at least. Strictly voluntary acts, on the contrary, are always the concomitants of emotion of some sort. In the great majority of the ordinary actions of life, they are the only motor phenomena of which we are aware in this connection. Our whole daily conduct, in our business and pleasure, our incomings and our outgoings, our downsittings and uprisings, is inseparably associated with our likings and dislikings, our hopes and fears. What is the nature of this association?

Under the theory we are considering, two relations of voluntary acts to emotion are possible. They may, like the involuntary reactions, constitute the emotion, or unlike them, result from it. Professor James does not express himself on the general question, but some of his illustrations seem to favor the former view. If the man who meets a bear is frightened because he runs, or the one who is insulted, angry because he strikes, the voluntary acts of running and striking must, in part, at least, constitute the emotions of fear and anger in these cases. Let us, then, consider this case first.

If I see a shower coming up, and run for a shelter, the emotion is evidently of the same kind, though perhaps less in degree, as in the case of the man who runs from the bear. According to Professor James, I am afraid of getting wet because I run. But supposing that, instead of running, I step into a shop and buy an umbrella. The emotion is still the same. I am afraid of getting wet. Consequently, so far as I can see, the fear, in this case, consists in buying the umbrella. Fear of hunger, in like manner, might consist in laying in a store of provisions; fear of poverty, in shoveling dirt at a dollar a day, and so on indefinitely. Anger, again, may be associated with many other actions than striking. Shylock’s anger at Antonio’s insults induced him to lend him money. Did the anger, or revengefulness, or whatever we may call the passion, consist in the act of lending the money? I hardly think it necessary to multiply instances in illustration of the fact that the same act is often associated with the most contradictory emotions, and acts which are ordinarily indifferent with the most intense feeling; that, in fact, there is no such uniformity in the associations of emotion with voluntary conduct as the hypothesis would seem to require. I incline to think that most people will believe, in the cases cited by Professor James, that the running and the striking are the results, not the causes of the fear and anger.

If we assume such to be the case, we are no better off under the hypothesis we are considering. Excluding voluntary movements, there is nothing left of the emotion, according to Professor James, but the consciousness of involuntary, reflex acts resulting from perception. The voluntary acts must, then, be directly caused by these. Now, in the first place, it is often difficult, if not impossible, to tell what these actions are. What are the involuntary muscular contractions that impel a day-laborer to go to the place of his work, and keep his voluntary muscular system in strenuous activity all day, enduring fatigue and all the discomforts of the summer’s heat or winter’s cold? It would probably puzzle him very much to tell, although he has a very clear idea of why he does it. I doubt if, on his own hypothesis, Professor James himself would find it easy to explain the constituents of the emotions which impel him to go to the class-room at the appointed hour and conduct a recitation. But even in cases in which we are distinctly conscious of involuntary action, there seems to be no connection between it and the voluntary acts accompanying the emotion. In the case of the man running from the bear, for instance, trembling lips, weakened limbs, goose-flesh and visceral stirrings have nothing to do with running, but, on the contrary, would rather tend to prevent it. In fact, it may be said, in general, that the two classes of emotional activities are mutually antagonistic. The more involuntary the action, the less efficient the voluntary activity is apt to be, as any one knows who has had an attack of the “buck ague.” We should have, therefore, diminution of the effect with increase of the cause.

It seems, then, on the hypothesis, impracticable to account for the association of voluntary action with emotion either on the supposition that the former is the cause or the result of the latter. A third alternative—that there is no relation of cause and effect in the case, and that the phenomena of emotion and action, although constantly associated, are really independent, I will not discuss, as it does not commend itself to my mind, and Professor James, elsewhere, expressly repudiates it. It seems to me that the only reasonable conclusion is that emotion is something different from either involuntary or voluntary muscular activity, and which may be the cause of either or both.

Professor James, after admitting that the view of the subject which he advocates is only a hypothesis, and that much is lacking to its definitive proof, goes on to say:

“The only way coercively to _dis_prove it, however, would be to take some emotion and then exhibit qualities of feeling in it which should be _demonstrably_ additional to all those which could possibly be derived from the organs affected at the time. But to detect with certainty such purely spiritual qualities of feeling would obviously be a task beyond human power....

“A positive proof of the theory would, on the other hand, be given, if we could find a subject absolutely anæsthetic inside and out, but not paralytic, so that emotion-inspiring objects might evoke the usual bodily expressions from him, but who, on being consulted, should say that no subjective emotional affection was felt. Such a man would be like one who, because he eats, appears to bystanders to be hungry, but who afterwards confesses that he had no appetite at all.” (P. 455.)

Whether the truth of the first of the above paragraphs is to be conceded or not, depends, I suppose, on the strength of proof necessary for coercion. The only way, for instance, coercively to disprove the once prevalent theory that “lunacy” is due to the influence of the moon would be to abolish the moon. Most intelligent people, however, at the present day, accept the fact that there seems to be no coincidence between the moon’s phases and the phenomena of insanity as sufficient proof for practical purposes of the incorrectness of that theory. It seems to me that the facts to which I have called attention show a somewhat similar lack of correspondence in the case we have been considering. I am, however, unable to see why a case of complete anæsthesia, such as is supposed in the second paragraph, would not answer nearly as well for one side of the question as the other, according to the presence or absence of emotion. To suppose that cutaneous and visceral sensations are preserved unimpaired for purposes of emotion, while absolutely abolished for all other purposes, would be putting a pretty severe strain on the faculty of belief.

Such cases, as Professor James says, are hard to find. He refers to one, reported by Strümpell, in which a boy, anæsthetic within and without, with the exception of one eye and one ear, was stated to have manifested shame, grief, surprise, fear, and anger. He goes on, however, to say: “In observing him, however, no such theory as the present one seems to have been thought of; and it always remains possible that, just as he satisfied his natural appetites and necessities in cold blood, with no inward feeling, so his emotional expressions may have been accompanied by a quite cold heart.”

Since Professor James’s work was published, two cases have been reported by Berkley,[57] which, although not, perhaps, conclusive, are of interest in this connection. In the first, the patient, a woman of English birth, age not stated, had complete loss of sense of pain, heat and cold, pressure and equilibrium, of smell, taste, and sight. The sense of touch, although not completely abolished, was very greatly impaired. She recognised a hat, for instance, only after feeling of it for a long time and then seemed doubtful about it. Her sense of the position of the extremities was also very imperfect, although not entirely abolished; and there was some deafness, although not enough to render her incapable of conversation. With regard to her mental state, Dr. Berkley says:

“The psychical condition has undergone but slight change, she is possibly a little apathetic, with some slight tendency towards a melancholic tone, but when aroused and induced to converse for some time, this in great measure passes away. The memory is quite good.”

Dr. Berkley was kind enough to give me the following additional information about this patient, who, at the time of writing, was still under observation:

“Since the coming on of the dullness in hearing there has been a considerable degree of apathy manifest. She is no longer conscious of the smaller noises that occur around her, but is very readily aroused by the voice, and then takes a lively interest in what is said to her: for instance a few days ago the resident physician remarked to her that he was going to obtain a pair of crutches for her use; she laughed heartily at the idea, and said she would fall and break her leg at the first step.”

In response to further inquiries, he writes as follows:

“1) Visceral sensations. The clearest evidence of visceral sensation I have noted in my article,” [warning of the necessity of evacuating the bowels and bladder by a pricking pain in the lower part of the abdomen,] “no others were sufficiently definite to be described. For two years there has been no feeling of hunger or thirst, and as the diet has only been a few mouthfuls of milk at a time for nearly that period, there has been no feeling of repletion.

“2) When the patient laughs at a joke, there is a slight flushing of the face, besides the ordinary contraction of the facial muscles; she is aware that she is laughing, but besides acknowledging that she perceives no difference between the act now, and some years ago, she is unable to describe the sensation further.

“3) Anger. As I think I mentioned in my last letter, the patient has been a person of unusually equal temper; an outbreak of real passion has never been observed with her. When annoyed or teased by some of the other women, there is a distinct corrugation of the forehead, accompanied by an exceedingly slight general movement as if of aversion, no words, movement of the chest, clenching of the hands, etc. She describes the sensation as one of repulsion.

“Like Strümpell’s case she shows definitely shame, grief, surprise, fear, and substituting for anger, repulsion.

“My own impression derived from observation of the patient is, that all mental emotional sensibilities are present and only a little less vivid than in the unanæsthetic state; and that emotions are approximately natural, and not at all coldly dispassionate.”

In the second case, that of a Russian woman, aged thirty-five, there was complete loss of cutaneous sensibility in all its qualities: the sense of position (“muscular sense”) was almost completely abolished; the sense of taste was absent in the anterior two-thirds of the tongue. Smell, sight, and hearing were preserved. She had left the hospital before the article was written. In regard to her case, Dr. Berkley writes:

“While in the most absolute state of anæsthesia (auditory and visual excepted) there was no departure from a normal psyche; the woman would sometimes be angered when she did not understand a question, at others would smile or shake her head, and would frequently laugh and talk with another Russian woman in the same ward. There was never the slightest apathy manifest after the first few days of febrile movement.”

I give these cases for what they are worth. In the first, it is evidently impossible to entirely exclude the presence of sensations caused by the reflex acts, and the second, not having, apparently, been examined with special reference to the subjective side of her emotional manifestations, may be open to the same objection which Professor James makes against Strümpell’s case. To me it seems extremely unlikely that, if the theory under discussion is correct, such an amount of anæsthesia as existed in these cases would have produced no obvious effect on the emotions. The fact that voluntary acts were performed by both these patients as well as by Strümpell’s case, seems to me conclusive as to the existence of emotions of some sort in all of them.

It seems clear to me, from the foregoing considerations, that there are serious difficulties in the way of accepting Professor James’s theory as an adequate explanation of all the phenomena of emotion. On the other hand, I think it contains an important truth, and that, by calling attention to it, he has rendered a real service to psychology. In order to make it clear how far I agree with him, it will be necessary to consider just what feelings are to be classed together under the head of emotion.

If we touch our fingers to a live coal, we are conscious of a sensation of heat, and also of pain. If we take quinine into our mouths, it tastes bitter, and also disagreeable. So in regard to a very large proportion of our sensations, we recognise two elements—one which has to do with the qualities of the object, and, another consisting of the pleasurable or painful way in which those qualities affect us. The former may be called the objective element in sensation. We think of the heat as residing in the coal, whether we are touching it or not, but it never occurs to us to think of the coal as in pain. The pain is in us—an entirely subjective feeling. Doubtless there is no more reason to think of heat, as it is appreciated by our senses, as a property of the coal, than pain, but that is the way in which we naturally think of it. That these two elements are really distinct is evident from the fact that the different senses furnish them in different proportions. Comparatively few sights, for instance, give any such sensuous pain to the eye as the sensation produced by getting a grain of sand under the lid, which gives us very little information in regard to the qualities of the offending substance. In fact, it is generally true that intensity of pleasurable or painful sensation is a hindrance to exact knowledge of its object. It is further evident from the fact that, in disease, one form of sensibility may be abolished while the other is retained. A person may be able to feel the slightest touch, and to recognise perfectly the size, shape, and texture of the objects he handles, and yet feel no pain when cut, struck, nor burned, or he may have even heightened sensibility to painful impressions with loss of the power to recognise the sensible qualities of objects.

Now, although we are accustomed to distinguish between emotions and purely sensuous pleasures and pains, there are some points, at least, at which it is not easy to draw the line. My pleasure in the anticipation of a good dinner is undoubtedly an emotion. Is not my pleasure in eating it entitled to the same name, and does not the latter consist in the reality of the sensations which in the former case were enjoyed in imagination? Is not the enjoyment we feel in the smell of mignonette, the tone of a sweet voice, the color and form of the rainbow, emotion? Yet it consists largely, if not entirely, in the agreeableness of the sensations. Most people would probably think it strange to hear hunger and thirst spoken of as emotions but would readily agree that desire of food or drink is as much an emotion as any other desire. Is the desire in this case anything more than the hunger or thirst?

I am inclined to think that it is proper to call such pleasures and pains as I have instanced above emotions, and if so, I see no reason for denying the name to any sensuous pleasures and pains. If Professor James’s view is that all feeling is sensation, I should say that all feeling is emotion. Whether this view is correct or not, I do not see how Professor James can consistently refuse to accept it. On his theory, the emotions which he discusses must owe their pleasurable or painful quality to the pleasurable or painful nature of the sensations in which they consist. I can see no valid ground for saying that some such feelings are emotions and others are not. But the essence of emotion is pleasure or pain. Abstracting these qualities, it would be an indifferent emotion, which, I think all would agree, is a contradiction in terms. Possibly he might wish to limit the use of the term to those pleasurable and painful feelings, which arise not directly, but in a reflex way. He might say, for instance, that the disagreeableness to the ear of the creaking of an ungreased axle is not, but the shudder which it gives a sensitive person is, emotion. In that case, it must be admitted that a sneeze is emotion. His contention is that we have no other pleasures or pains than those of sensation. If this be true, a setting off of some sensations as emotions is, if not an arbitrary, a comparatively useless procedure.

My own view, then, is that the elements of sensation which I have spoken of as objective and subjective might, with equal propriety, be characterised respectively as intellectual and emotional, and that in this direction the theory under discussion, although true as far as it goes, does not go far enough.

However this may be, the admission or denial that these feelings are emotions does not necessarily affect the question whether or not this is the only origin, of pleasure and pain. As has already been said, those feelings to which no one will deny the name of emotions are not usually, in adult human beings, at least, direct reactions on sensation. If it be true that the start we give at the unexpected slamming of a door is a sort of fright, it is a very rudimentary sort compared with that which one feels when the cry of fire is raised in a crowded theatre. “A burnt child dreads the fire.” It is not the sight of the fire, but the thought of the burning, that arouses the emotion. When a man reads in the newspaper of the death of a friend, or a rise in the value of property in which he is interested, it is not the sight of the black marks on the white paper, but the beliefs which, through a long and intricate series of associations they call up, which move his feelings. If he could not read, he would see the same announcement without any emotion. The usual origin of the emotions _par excellence_ is by way of association.

Suppose that I have taken a nauseous dose, and made a wry face over it. No one, I presume, would question that the disagreeableness lay in the unpleasant taste, and not in the distortion of the countenance. Now, suppose I have to repeat the dose, and my face takes on a similar expression at the anticipation to that which it wore when I took it originally. How does this come about? If I can trust my own consciousness, it is because the vivid reproduction, in memory, of the unpleasant taste is itself unpleasant. I do not see how it can well be otherwise. Professor James says (p. 649) that “the first element of memory is the revival in the mind of an image or copy of the original event.” How can I have a copy in my mind of a pain if it is not painful? Take away the painfulness of it and there would be nothing left. I might remember the circumstances under which it occurred, and judge from them that I must have suffered pain, but I could not, it seems to me, remember the pain itself. Whether that is possible or not, I feel sure that the fact, in my own case, is, that my memory of a pain resembles it in the same way that my memory of the circumstances in which it occurred resembles them. If this be the fact, what can be more natural than that it should excite the same sort of associated movements that were excited by the original sensation? I cannot make it seem any more credible, to return to the example mentioned above, that my repugnance to a repetition of the dose is due to my involuntary movements than that my discomfort in taking it originally was due to the similar movements that occurred then.

Suppose that a child who has eaten and enjoyed an orange is offered another. The sight of it calls up the recollection of the agreeable taste, and the expectation of a repetition of the pleasant experience excites expressions of pleasure. If the fruit is snatched away, the disappointment at the loss of the expected pleasure is distressing, and very probably may result in his weeping. I hardly think that any one who will consult his own consciousness will say that the reason he likes the taste of an orange is that it makes him laugh or smile to get it. He likes it because it tastes good, and is sorry to lose it for the same reason. The laughing or weeping is, I think, unquestionably the result of the pleasure or grief, not of the mere perception of an object in itself indifferent.

It is true that emotions of this sort do not always arise by way of personal association. Young children are apt to be afraid of strangers, of large animals, and of loud noises. I can remember being frightened at my first sight of a locomotive. Here we come upon the questions of inherited experience and natural selection, which can hardly be discussed in an article like this. The objects of which young children are instinctively afraid, as a rule, are either dangerous themselves, or more or less similar to dangerous objects. I see no more difficulty in supposing that mental pleasure and pain, on the sight of special objects, may be a matter of organisation than in the case of the analogous physical sensations.

My view of the matter, then, is that emotion in the sense in which the word is commonly used bears the same relation to perceptions or beliefs that feelings of physical pleasure or pain do to the objective or intellectual quality of sensations. I am inclined to think it proper to class all pleasurable and painful feelings together as emotions. If this view is correct, it would, of course, include those feelings to which Professor James would confine the term. I should not at all hesitate to admit that the emotional state of a person who trembles and turns pale with fear is different from that of one who preserves his self-possession in the presence of a danger that he realises and dreads. I think it is true that the voluntary actions prompted by an emotion have some tendency to intensify it. But, so far as I can analyse my own feelings, the pleasures and pains of memory and imagination seem to me just as real as those of sensation, and not at all to be confounded with them. When I try to subtract all motor reactions and resulting sensations from the feeling of fear, for instance, there remains not merely the intellectual perception that the event dreaded is not desirable, but the perfectly distinct emotional consciousness that I do not desire it.

This view seems to be favored by the analogy between the relations of sensation to reflex movement on the one hand, and of perception to voluntary movement on the other, which will, I think, be found to be very complete. We have reflex acts which are useful, such as breathing, the beating of the heart, swallowing and coughing; and others, like groaning, weeping, and trembling, which seem to be useless. In like manner, emotions of hope or fear may give rise to voluntary acts calculated to enable the subject of the emotion to secure or avoid its object. If I burn my fingers, my hand is involuntarily snatched away. Such would not be the case if the burn caused no pain. If I see that the house is on fire, I try to escape, either by extinguishing the fire or by getting out of the house. It seems to me evident that I should not do so if the thought of being burned were not painful. Such emotions may also occasion useless acts, more or less similar to those mentioned above. A person who saw no way of escape from a burning house might tremble, weep, or groan from fear.

On the evolutionary hypothesis, it seems easy to understand how the reproduction, by memory or imagination, of certain feelings might bring about movements like those excited by the original feelings. Professor James would have us believe that this reproduction is always, in itself, indifferent, that is, merely intellectual; but that it is, nevertheless, capable of setting up the movements which, in the case of peripheral stimuli, are the results of pleasure and pain, and that the consciousness of these movements is, in such cases, the sole cause of the emotional condition. Such a reversal of relations seems to me highly improbable. Each one must decide for himself which view is more in accordance with the facts of his own consciousness.

W. L. WORCESTER.

FOOTNOTES:

[57] _Two Cases of General Cutaneous and Sensory Anæsthesia, without Marked Psychical Implication._ By Henry J. Berkley, M. D., Baltimore. [Brain, Part IV. 1891.]

PROFESSOR ERNST MACH’S TERM SENSATION.

SUPPLEMENTARY TO HIS CONTROVERSY WITH THE EDITOR.

_The Monist_, Vol. I, No. 3, contains a controversy between Prof. Ernst Mach and myself on some questions of psycho-physics in which Professor Mach, having reference to an editorial article on “Feeling and Motion,” regards sensations as the “elements of reality,” “while motion,” he says, “is a mere mental auxiliary, an artificial expedient.” “Physicists,” we are told, “have accustomed us to regard the motions of atoms as more real than the green of trees. In the latter I see a (sensory) fact, in the former a _Gedankending_, a thing of thought.”

In contradistinction to Professor Mach I maintained that our scientific terms, although abstract concepts and things of thought, or noumena, are after all descriptive of actual facts; they are symbols representing features of reality. Motions, i. e., that which is meant by the term motion, is a reality, and what the chemist calls atoms is a definite quality of certain facts of experience. Atoms are not things in themselves, as the name seems to suggest, but rather proportional relations conveniently so expressed as if they were ultimate units or concrete little bodies of a definite mass or weight. What atoms are, aside from representing the proportions in which elements combine, we do not know. We may define “atom” as the minimal weight in which an element enters into chemical combinations, but such atoms have never been an object of observation. For aught we know, they may as little be discrete bodies as a curve consists of discrete straight lines, which, as such, would be unobservable only because infinitesimally small. The infinitely small straight line into which a curve is analysed by mathematicians is a fiction, wisely devised for calculating the path of the curve. This fiction is as Professor Mach says, an artifice only, not a reality, or as I say, an allegoric expression to characterise not whole concrete realities, but certain features of reality in their abstractness.

Scientific terms are comparable to myths that contain deep religious truths. The fiction of the myth is only the vehicle of its meaning. The naked meaning in its abstract purity may be difficult to grasp. Thus our imagination steps in and completes the picture so as to render it concrete and easily thinkable.

Now, when several months ago I met Professor Mach at Prague, our conversation naturally touched upon the problems which had formed the subject of our discussion. Professor Mach assented to my speaking of scientific terms as abstracts. That, accordingly, must be considered as the point of agreement. But when I proposed that the term sensation also was according to my terminology an abstract term representing one feature of reality only and excluding other features, Professor Mach took exception to it, saying that he understands by sensation reality itself. Very well then, this is the difference; and this difference is after all a difference of terms only. I understand by sensation the psychical feature of the data of experience only, to the exclusion of what may be called its physical aspect. Sensation accordingly, as I use the term, is not the whole of the given reality but only one of its qualities. If, as Professor Mach uses the term, sensation is another name for reality, the main difference between our views appears to be removed.

P. CARUS.

BOOK REVIEWS.

VORLESUNGEN ÜBER DIE MENSCHEN- UND THIERSEELE. By _Wilhelm Wundt_. Zweite umgearbeitete Auflage. Hamburg and Leipsic: Leopold Voss. 1892.

The new edition of Wundt’s _Menschen- und Thierseele_ is one of the best existing general introductions to psychology. It preserves nearly the just mean between the purely introspective and abstract treatment and the substitution of physiology for psychology with which recent treatises have familiarised us. The author has completely rewritten the edition of 1863, which he regards as a youthful indiscretion (_Jugendsünde_)—retaining only such chapters as could be brought into harmony with his maturer views and with the developed science of psycho-physics that has taken the place of the _Zukunftsprogramm_ of thirty years ago. He has wisely omitted all the superficial and diffuse chapters on comparative psychology and ethnology which cumbered the original work; has silently ignored the fantastic speculations as to the identity of electricity and nerve-force (one of the worst of the aforesaid youthful sins); and practically abandoned (perhaps as too esoteric for popular exposition) the elaborate reduction of sensations and perceptions to unconscious judgments and inferences.

The first thirteen or fourteen chapters offer a very clear and interesting résumé of the chief doctrines of the _Physiologische Psychologie_ in regard to sensations generally, their measurements and qualities, Weber’s and Fechner’s laws, the special sensations of color, hearing, and the muscular sense, and the problem of space perception. Following the plan of the original work in these chapters, the author aims less at completeness of statement than to present clearly the distinctive doctrines of modern psychology. In the treatment of certain themes, e. g. Fechner’s law, and the perception of space, he neglects, for the sake of clearness, qualifications of detail which the special student must look for in the larger work. The last sixteen chapters deal with the feelings, the will, consciousness, attention, association and apperception, conception, abnormal and animal psychology and instinct, concluding with two notable lectures on the “Freedom of the Will” and the “Immortality of the Soul.” It is to these chapters that we must look for Wundt’s general psychological and philosophical system. Profiting by recent criticisms he has here set forth his characteristic doctrines in so clear and definite a final statement that further misconception of them is hardly permissible. The remainder of this notice will be devoted to what is perhaps the most interesting question thus suggested: Wundt’s relation to the associationist psychology of Spencer on the one side, and to the younger German school of experimental psychologists on the other. Wundt ignores the Spencerian form of the associationist psychology, and the young psychologists do injustice to Wundt, neither side apparently condescending to read with attention the writings of the other. The debate, so far as it is not merely verbal, springs from two real differences of method: (1) Wundt in his psychological analysis habitually takes account of the problems of the theory of knowledge (_Erkenntnisstheorie_), or ultimate metaphysics, which the young psychologists endeavor (not always with success) systematically to exclude. (2) Wundt, gifted with superior powers of introspection, is more aware than the young psychologists of the infinite complexity and subtlety of mental states. He prefers, therefore, to a schematic simplification of the phenomena a terminology and descriptive analysis that reflect in some measure their manifold diversity. And thus while Wundt finds the pure associationist psychology barren and tautologous, the young psychologists see in Wundt’s complicated terminology only a shamefaced reversion to the discarded psychology of a substantial soul endowed with autonomous “faculties.” But the analysis of our mental states which Wundt gives by means of this terminology is really only a subtler restatement of the analysis of Mill, Spencer, and Taine, to which the new psychology has not been able to add anything of moment. It is true that he proclaims the inadequacy of association, even when translated into the diagrams of a hypothetical cerebral anatomy, to “explain” fully our conscious active mental life. But in this he is at one with Spencer (ultimate scientific ideas), J. S. Mill (Examination of Hamilton), and Schopenhauer (_Epiphilosophie_). It is gross injustice to stigmatise as an abandonment of the scientific attitude of mind this occasional passing recognition of the seeming ultimate inexplicability of things. In no single concrete instance can it be shown that Wundt now sacrifices the recognised methods and postulates of modern scientific investigation to the psychological hypostisations which his opponents detect in his terminology.

In confirmation of these statements I will give a brief summary of Wundt’s doctrine of association and apperception with an occasional indication of its relation to the psychology of Spencer. Wundt distinguishes the totality of mental states which are perceived from the presentation at the focus of consciousness which is apperceived. In this way (substituting everywhere _dunkel bewusst_ for _unbewusst_) he avoids the metaphysics of the unconscious, while getting the benefit of the entire analysis of its advocates. I do not think the ultimate difficulty can be evaded in this way, but will not stop to argue the point. A further advantage of this distinction is that it makes possible a dynamic treatment of mental states as “events” in place of the crude psychology that deals with the conditions of any mental state as so many ready-made parts externally dovetailed into the completed product. The active side of consciousness is taken into account from the outset. The mental state at any moment is described by indicating the presentation which is then at the focus of consciousness (apperceived) and the accompanying faintly conscious presentations that qualify its tone and total effect. The given mental state is “explained” by tracing out the dynamic readjustments that brought this particular presentation to the focus, and grouped the faintly conscious presentations about it. Now the bringing of a presentation to the focus of conscious attention is the primitive psychical activity, the elementary act of will,[58] and since Wundt places this at the beginning he rejects all evolution of will or instinct from reflex action, and thus, it will be said, here at least puts himself in distinct opposition to advanced scientific thought. Let us distinguish. So far as we are dealing with the developed minds we know, Wundt’s distinction is merely the expression of an observed psychological fact. External volition does go back to internal voluntary attention and this to a focussing of consciousness for which apperception is as good a term as another. Such focussing of the attention is for us now the primary reaction of the “self” on its received impressions. Out of a given group of presentations I apperceive by preference one and you another, because at the time my “self,” my mind, differs from yours. This self may be only a convenient shorthand expression for a passive product of external forces. The feeling of the reaction of the self may be an illusion, and its activity may be merely the mechanical action of a relatively coherent group of presentations when a new presentation is introduced among them, and the whole process may be explicable in terms of associations. But the feeling exists, and Wundt has described and analysed it better than any of his critics.

On the other hand, if the question is of the hypothetical origin of mind, we are at once brought face to face with an ultimate metaphysical problem which the new psychology impatiently ignores, which Spencer grudgingly acknowledges, but which Wundt and Kantians like Riehl find confronting them at every stage of their analysis. Conscious mind cannot conceive of its own origin, and therefore all psychological theories of development must postulate in some form the elements of consciousness and will. Nothing that I could add to the dialectics of this question would influence those who feel no difficulty here. They require a long course of Kantian criticism or its equivalent. At any rate it is not fair polemic to class a thinker as unscientific merely because he recognises this difficulty and gives it expression in his psychology, instead of contemptuously relegating it to metaphysics.

After thus laying the foundations in the doctrine of apperception for the psychology both of cognition and of the will, Wundt proceeds to restate the associationist analysis of Mill and Spencer in a more elaborate terminology but in substantial agreement with Spencer till he reaches the “concept,” when the introduction of apperception gives rise to a seeming difference. Spencer distinguishes simultaneous from successive association as carefully as Wundt. What Wundt, after Herbart calls “complications,” namely the joint reference to one object of a number of disparate presentations of sense, is clearly described by Spencer (“Principles of Psychology,” §§ 315-355); and Wundt’s “assimilations” do not differ appreciably from Spencer’s “still less conscious” processes of “organic classification” (“Principles of Psychology,” § 320). Into the metaphysics of the ultimate relations of contiguity and similarity as laws of association I cannot enter here. Similarity will always be recognised as ultimate by those who, like Spencer, approach the problem first from the psychical side, while a purely materialistic treatment in terms of nervous currents, such as we find in James, will endeavor to do away altogether with similarity, which simply cannot be expressed in terms of nerve-structure without reasoning in a circle. Wundt retains similarity but endeavors to coördinate it with contiguity. The problem is really identical with the final question of the relations of “mind” and “body,” and cannot be profitably discussed apart from that question.

Coming now to the concept and the judgment, we find Wundt affirming that the different forms of simultaneous and successive association (as he has defined them) are not an exhaustive classification of mental processes—that they do not include the concept. Well, he is at liberty to define his own terms, and before we accuse him of hypostasising a new faculty to account for the concept, let us scrutinise his meaning. We shall find that he merely repeats, in a subtler terminology of his own, the analysis of Berkeley, Mill, Taine, Spencer, and Romanes. These writers treat the concept as a complicated associational group held together by the word. Now Wundt, while conceding the theoretic admissibility of this form of statement, holds that such groups present so many distinct characteristics that all delicacy of psychological discrimination is sacrificed by confounding them under one denomination with other associational complexes. He does not, like Professor James, bid introspective psychology “throw up the sponge” here, but wishes to carry his analysis into recesses which the instruments of the associationists are too clumsy to explore. In the interests of this analysis he limits the term association to combinations mediated by a limited number of elements. The (apperceived) concept, on the other hand, is the product of the reaction of the total mind. This distinction (whatever we may think of its absolute validity) expresses a finely observed psychological truth. The distinctive quality of a concept consists, Wundt says, “_in dem begleitenden Bewusstsein, dass die einzelne Vorstellung einen bloss stellvertretenden Werth besitze_.” This feeling he calls the _Begriffsgefühl_, meaning thereby exactly what Professor James means when he says that “the thoughts by which we know that we mean the same thing are apt to be very different indeed from each other,” and that “a polyp would be a conceptual thinker if a feeling of ‘Hollo! thingumbob again!’ ever flitted through its mind.” Only, instead of “throwing up the sponge,” Wundt goes on to give a very interesting account of this feeling in its various degrees of clearness between the conceptual polyp and the conceiving man. Apperception is invoked only to name and emphasise the feeling of activity of the self that enters into the _Begriffsgefühl_, distinguishing it as a reaction of the total consciousness from the relatively passive associations of what Romanes would call “recepts.” Psychologists, however, will continue their fruitless debates on questions of terminology and will still imagine that Wundt is a belated reactionist.

PAUL SHOREY.

BEITRÄGE ZUR EXPERIMENTELLEN PSYCHOLOGIE. By _Hugo Münsterberg_. Heft 4. Freiburg i. B. 1892.

Münsterberg’s fourth _Heft_ begins with studies in association. If _a_ and _b_ have been independently associated with _m_, can _a_ call up _b_ without the appearance in consciousness of _m_? The affirmative answer of common experience was confirmed by Scripture’s experiments. Associating five Japanese symbols with two series of five German words, he found that a word of one series tended (without conscious recollection of the Japanese symbol) to revive the particular word in the other series that had been associated with the same symbol. Münsterberg, after repeating and varying the experiment in a number of fields, denies that any such relation can be observed. He may very well be right on the question of facts. It is _a priori_ improbable that a transitory and arbitrary association of a meaningless symbol could modify appreciably the independent and accidental associative attractions of familiar words and presentations. The philosophic interpretation is another question. For our real knowledge it is a matter of indifference whether we fill out “missing links” with “_dunkel bewusst_,” “_unbewusst_,” or “cerebral processes that have no psychical correlates.” And yet how much of contemporary psychologising is a logomachy raging around just this question.

Münsterberg’s second series of experiments show clearly the part played by such missing links in perception. A word is called out just before a complicated picture is exhibited to the subject. He will usually perceive first in the picture some object naturally associated with the word, even though the word has aroused no conscious associations.

Similarly (III) a hastily seen misprinted word will be interpreted variously according to the associations of another word called out to the subject in advance.

Another series of experiments has for result that even the most commonly associated word-couples, as table and chair, have no fixed, unconditional associative attraction for each other in the same or in different minds, but that the unit of attraction is the “associative constellation.” This is only common sense, and artificial experiments will never reveal anything in this field that we cannot learn quite as well in the class room. “Table” will suggest “logarithm” if the boy is fresh from the class in trigonometry.

“The difference between men is in their principle of association” said Emerson long ago. Münsterberg, who has in his archives records of fifty thousand experiments in verbal associations, presents a table of the comparative frequency with which substantives are associated with superior (more general) or inferior class names, with adjectives or with verbs to which they stand in the relation of subject or of object. His chief result is that minds which associate a noun with its higher class name (_Ueberordner_) think of it as the subject of a verb and do not associate it with an adjective. The _Unterordner_ thinks of the noun as object of a verb and associates it with an adjective. The adjective, then, is not the higher class to which the substantive belongs, but a limitation of the substantive. The French, if they please, may use this conclusion to refute Spencer’s contention that “white horse” is a more natural order than _cheval blanc_.

The first topic in “memory studies” is the persistence in the psycho-physical mechanism of the disposition to an acquired automatic movement, even after the memory of the nerve has been seemingly displaced by the habit of its contrary. The experiments were trivial, such as shifting the position of an inkstand from right to left in alternate months, or wearing a watch alternately in the right or left fob. The result, a progressive diminution of the mistakes made after every change, may plausibly be explained by the stimulated attention and consequent care of the experimenter. The second topic treats of the effect of a time interval on the exactness of our memory of sensations of movement in eyes and limbs. The section on “chain reactions” is a methodological study of the various applications of this experimental method. “The influence of nervous stimulants on psychic activities” is rather interesting reading, but yields no important results. Alcohol depresses, tea and coffee heighten the powers of memory and perception for an hour or two after absorption. But the harmful effect of the alcohol sometimes passes away after the first hour. _Grössenschätzung_ is a study of our estimates of distances on a surface, made by passing the hand over it at arm’s length, at half arm’s length, etc. From experiments as to the estimate of absolute tone-distances (as distinguished from musical intervals) Münsterberg concludes that pure measurements are not possible with three tones only. Experiments with four tones do not, he says, confirm the law that distances corresponding to equal differences of vibration are felt as equal.

Physiologists have assumed that the symmetrical movement of the limbs as in swimming or rowing is the natural one; and the alternating or independent movements, as in walking or writing, are an acquisition involving inhibitions of the natural innervations. “Even in adult life,” says Professor James, “there is an instinctive tendency to revert to the bilateral movements of childhood.” Professor Münsterberg was led to doubt this view by observing the unsymmetrical motions of a baby in a warm bath, and experiment has confirmed his scepticism. Complicated joint motions of both hands (tracing circles or other geometrical figures on a surface) do not exhibit any tendency, when the attention is distracted, to assume the symmetrical form. They rather tend to compensate each other in such a way as to preserve equilibrium with the minimum strain on the other muscles of the body, and this law leads as often to alternating as to symmetrical movements of the arms or legs. The case is different of course with the muscles of the trunk, and may be different in birds, as it would in us if we spent our lives in swimming or rowing.

A new method of attacking the problem of localisation is to observe the effect of altering the circulation in different parts of the brain. Tentative experiments on one subject seem to show that verbal associations are readiest when the victim lies on his left side, which is a happy coincidence with the localisation of the speech centres in the left frontal convolutions. If these statistics can be trusted, it is inadvisable to undertake hard mental labor with the head hanging back over the edge of a chair!

In the last chapter, certain simple experiments in our estimates of voluntary movements in varying conditions of mind and body are made the basis of a far-reaching theory of pleasure, pain, and judgment, the elements of which can be found in Aristotle, Herbert Spencer, and James. Münsterberg found by repeated experiments that the accuracy of attempted reproduction of a fixed and familiar amount of centripetal or centrifugal movement of finger and thumb along a rod perpendicular to his waistcoat varied with his condition of fatigue, pleasure, or pain. In a pleasurable state of consciousness the centrifugal movement was exaggerated while the centripetal fell short. In pain the reverse relation obtained. Hence he infers a connection between pain and muscular flexion and pleasure and muscular extension, or rather, he distinguishes the mere sensation of pain (_Schmerz_) and pleasure (_Lust_) which may depend on integrations and disintegrations in the nerve-tissue, from the accompanying feelings of agreeableness (_Wollust_) or disagreeableness (_Unlust_) which are due to sensations aroused at the centres by movements of flexion and extension throughout the body. He thus attaches his special theory of pleasure and pain to Lange’s and James’s theory of the identity of the emotions with their bodily concomitants—though he protests against the metaphysical implications of the doctrine. The origin of the existing coördination of muscular flexions and extensions with pleasure and pain, he explains teleologically on the principles of the Spencerian psychology of evolution. He then proceeds, after Sigwart and Brentano, to revive the old idea of Aristotle (whom he does not mention) that the judgment (affirmative or negative) is rather the assumption of an attitude toward a presentation (_Stellungsnehmende Akte_) than a mere conjunction of presentations. The affirmative judgment is a faint incipient represented movement of the self towards a suggested conjunction of presentations. The negative judgment is a similar movement in the opposite direction. Ontogenetically these inchoate movements are later than the movements of acceptance or rejection called forth by a painful or pleasurable stimulus, and must therefore be treated as derivative phenomena. But the Kantians may derive some comfort from Münsterberg’s final assurance that he too believes that “_Erkenntnisstheoretisch das Urtheil primär ist_.”

PAUL SHOREY.

THE SPIRIT OF MODERN PHILOSOPHY. By _Josiah Royce_, Ph. D. Boston and New York: Houghton, Mifflin & Co.

We are told by Professor Royce in the preface to this book, that we are indebted for it to the lady friend to whom it is gracefully dedicated, who asked him “for some account of the more significant spiritual possessions of a few prominent modern thinkers,” to be related “in comparatively brief and untechnical fashion.” The larger portion of the work is taken up with that subject, exhibiting the general growth of modern philosophical thought beginning with Spinozism, and terminating with Monism as the outcome of the doctrine of Evolution. The author’s purpose is constructive, however, as well as expository. He has his own philosophical creed, suggested by what he knows of the progress and outcome of modern thought, and the second portion of the work is the expression of his thoughts on the world-conception which he regards as embodying the true spirit of modern philosophy. Professor Royce justly lays stress on the fact that the theory of evolution is the product of a genuine and continuous growth. He dwells particularly, moreover, on the distinction between the _epistemological_ sense of idealism, which “involves a theory of the nature of our human knowledge,” and its _metaphysical_ sense, in which it is “a theory as to the nature of the real world, however we may come to know that nature.” It is in accord with the latter sense that Fichte, Schelling, Hegel, and their allies, as believing matter to be an expression of the world-spirit, are referred to as the idealistic school; and it is in the metaphysical and not the epistemological sense that the term idealism has been used since Hegel. The opposite of a metaphysical idealist is “one who maintains the ultimate existence of wholly unspiritual realities at the basis of experience and as the genuine truth of the world—such unspiritual realities for instance as an absolute ‘Unknowable,’ or, again, as what Hobbes meant by ‘Body.’” This is not, however, the view of the author, who thinks that the metaphysical idealist alone is in possession of a successful solution for the epistemological problem.

Professor Royce divides modern philosophy into three great periods, of which the first was one of pure and simple naturalism. The supernatural had then only a secondary interest, and thought was governed by three ideas—“that nature is a mechanism, that human reason is competent to grasp the truth of nature, and that, since nature’s truth is essentially mathematical, geometry is the model science, whose precision and necessity philosophy, too, must imitate.” During the second period of modern philosophy there was a gradual change of thought objectivity. Reason was still the instrument, but it was employed on the mind itself. It came to be recognised that if man is part of nature’s mechanism, he is a knowing mechanism. The age was, however, more than one of self-analysis. Rousseau introduced a sentimental tendency from which came “a revival of passion, of poetry, and of enthusiasm, whose influence we shall never outgrow.” To it is traceable the French Revolution which overthrew all the mechanical restraints of civilisation, and “demonstrated afresh to the world’s outer sense the central importance of passion in the whole life of humanity.”

The period of modern philosophy, which still continues, began with the publication of Kant’s “Critique of Pure Reason,” the essential doctrine of which is that man’s nature is the real creator of man’s world, that visible nature is the expression of the human spirit, the inner structure of which is therefore the deepest truth for us. This idea is “as old as deeper spiritual faith itself,” and yet it is the very soul of all our modern life because it is “the essentially humane view of reality.” For fifty years Kant’s ideas ruled philosophic thought, and then, through the progress of science, the doctrine of evolution received formulation, and confirmation and “external nature has once more gained for us an imposing authority which makes us in many ways sympathise afresh with the pure naturalism of the seventeenth century.” We are compelled to omit any account of the author’s study of the philosophies of Spinoza, Locke, and Berkeley, or the philosophic systems of Kant and his successors of the German School of Idealists. Nor can we say anything as to the doctrine of Evolution, which Professor Royce rightly regards as having had its rise long before Darwin or Herbert Spencer. Before proceeding to state his own views, the author takes a cursory glance at modern empirical monism which he affirms to be rather a suggestion than a philosophy. It is not surprising, therefore, that he is not content with it although he makes use of its ideas.

Let us now see what are the “Suggestions” which Professor Royce offers as his contribution towards the formation of a world-conception. These occupy the last four chapters of the work, which are supplemented by a general summary in the appendix, to the book. For the sake of conciseness we will make use of this summary, according to which there are two phases of idealistic doctrine, the Analytic Idealism of Berkeley and the Synthetic Idealism of Kant and his successors. The former shows that if the world is to be knowable at all, it must be, in its deepest nature, a world of ideas, that is, it exists “only in so far as beings with minds actually _know it to be_.” The objection that nobody can _know_ any reality beyond his own self, is met by the synthetic phase of idealism which shows us that “there is but one self in the world, the logos or world-mind. The _finite_ self knows truth beyond its own limitations, just because it is an organic part of the complete Self.” What are the demands of idealism as thus stated? They have relation, first, to the interpretation of the facts of experience, which must be in terms of the doctrine of the world-mind, and, secondly, to experience itself, on which we depend “for the revelation of that truth which, for us finite beings, must remain a fast ‘outer’ truth, just because it is the content of other mind than our own bits of selfhood, and is universally true for all intelligences.” The philosophy of experience having to do with facts and with the interpretation of facts, it is necessary to distinguish between what is really “outer” and what is “inner” about our finite experience. The former embraces the world of facts, and a fact is something which must be describable in some sort of universal terms. The principle of ordinary realism, “that you must not be sentimental or otherwise emotional in your account of the truth of things, but rather _exact in your descriptions of what things are_,” has a thoroughly idealistic justification. Not appreciation, but description gives us outer truth, and this is the characteristic presupposition of all natural science, which is concerned with the universal aspects of things, as opposed to momentary and transient aspects. That presupposition involves the assumption that the world is _essentially describable_. But as only the well-knit, the orderly, that which conforms to law, can be described science assumes the universality and rigidity of the laws of nature. It assumes further, since the most exact descriptions are possible only in the case of processes in Space and Time, of a mechanical type, that everything including man himself, is a part of nature’s mechanism. A closer analysis, however, shows that, as one can only describe what has been first appreciated, there must be universal types of appreciation, and therefore, that “Ideals must be deeper than Mechanism, so that, in order to be relatively describable, nature must embody purposes, and so be possessed of worth.” The author’s conclusion is that the natural order is also a moral order, and that therefore “the world of absolute self must appear to us as having two aspects, one a temporal, the other an eternal aspect, one of law and one of worth. Man then turns out to be at once a part of nature’s mechanism, and a part of the moral order; at once temporally determined and morally free.”

The final lecture presents the author’s views as to the solution of the problem of evil. Professor Royce believes that all evil is part of a good order, and hence he agrees with Hegel, who declared that life, however good, will always be restless, longing, suffering, and who gloried in the paradox as the very essence of spirituality; rather than with Schopenhauer, whose recognition, in another light, of the universality of the same truth led him to abandon all hope in life. The justification of the existence of an evil impulse comes just at the instant when it is hated and condemned. Thus “condemning and conquering the evil will, makes it part of a good will”; as pain and suffering have their compensation in their chastening effect on the spirit. But to the enlightened soul it is not so much the painfulness as “the blind irrationality of fortune that seems to drive God out of our thoughts when we look at our world.” It is the capriciousness of life, arising from human stupidity, that really makes it seem like an evil dream. What is the explanation of this caprice given by the author? It is to be found in the creed of his idealism, “This world is the world of the Logos.” It is “the suffering God, who is just our own true self, who actually and in our flesh bears the sins of the world, and whose natural body is pierced by the capricious wounds that hateful fools inflict upon him.” And as our defeats are his, so his triumph and his eternal peace are ours also.

Prof. Royce in making “only one more effort to define a ‘double-aspect’ theory of the relations of the physical and the moral and æsthetic worlds,” affirms that our philosophic insight teaches us that the world of matter in motion is simply an external aspect of the appreciable world, that is, of the world of the Logos. Of this, it is such an aspect “as can be expressed by finite consciousness in terms of the space and time forms, and of the categories of empirical science.... Consequently all its laws, all its necessity, its causation, its uniformity, belong, not to its inner nature as such, but to the external show of this nature.” That which actually appears to us is matter in motion, which furnishes the fact of the double aspect, the inner intelligibility of which fact is problematical to us, but not so for the Logos, who is our true Self, and who “completes the insight that for us is so fragmentary.” This true Self, the Logos, is the only Self, and with it the deeper self of man is identical. That this deeper self is “the self that knows in unity all truth,” is declared to be no hypothesis, and therefore the existence of the Infinite Self is perfectly sure. This Self “infinitely and reflectively transcends our consciousness, and therefore, since it includes us, it is at the very least a person, and more definitely conscious than we are; for what it possesses is self-reflecting knowledge.” Finally, the true world, that is the world of appreciation, is the system of the thoughts of the Logos, whose unity we know, just so far as we ourselves consciously and rationally enter into it and form part of it. Therefore “in so far as we have inner unity of thinking, in so far as we commune with our fellows, and in so far as we rightly see significance in the outer universe, we are in and of the world of appreciation that embodies the thought of the Logos.”

Ingenious as this theory is, and notwithstanding the elements of truth it possesses, we cannot accept it as conclusive. Its weakness is revealed in the last line of the paragraph just quoted. If only the world of appreciation embodies the thought of the Logos, what becomes of the world of fact? The latter is said to be the outer aspect of the former, a notion which is apparently derived from the association with man of body and mind. But the existence of mind, which we must understand by the term Logos, in nature, although declared by Professor Royce to be the only thing certain, is a mere inference, and even if the analogy of the human organism justifies such an inference; it would require that if priority has to be given to mind or matter in the universe it must be allowed to the latter. At birth a human being has no mind, properly so-called, since it is the result of the activity after birth of the organism, through the agency of the brain. It is true that the human body possesses from the first the elements of the mind, or rather of the feeling which thus exhibits itself; or, better still, the organic structure of which feeling is the general function. The utmost that can be properly asserted of the universe, therefore, is that it possesses a certain organic arrangement of its parts, and therewith such a condition of feeling, or, what in this relation would be a better term, sensitiveness, as is required by its organic character. In relation to such a state of things the terms thought, consciousness, reflection, have no meaning so far as we can judge. That organic aspect of the universe, moreover, leaves no room for duality. Just as the human organism constitutes a perfect unity, although it is made up of various organs and exhibits the properties attributed to both mind and matter, so must the universe be such a perfect unity whatever its nature and attributes. The human organism may, however, be strictly described as matter under organic conditions, a description which is equally applicable to the universe, without determining what those conditions are. Professor Royce objects to the Unknowable of Herbert Spencer, but there is very little practical difference between it and his own true Self, which, as the Absolute, is unknowable, although he is known in the inner self of man, as Spencer’s Unknowable is known in the human consciousness. Both Absolute and Unknowable are, however, merely names for Organic Nature, which is seen in all things visible and is known by all her operations. These are governed by the laws of her very existence, and it is the uniformity of which those laws are the expression which constitutes the moral law of the universe, the breach of whose eternal order, whether this is established in the world of matter or in the human mind, must be attended with consequences that are designated by man as evil. We find only a world of description, which is nevertheless one of moral order.

Widely as we disagree on the grounds stated with the conclusions of Professor Royce’s work, it is undoubtedly a valuable contribution to the discussion of the world-problem. Its description of the characteristics of the philosophy of Kant and of the German idealists is clear, though not intended to do more than exhibit the spirit of their teaching, and it is written in a style which renders it easy reading. It is a pity, therefore, that it is disfigured with such colloquialisms as _you’ll_, _isn’t_, _can’t_, _don’t_, words which neither sound well, nor look well in print.

Ω.

DIE ARISTOTELISCHE AUFFASSUNG VOM VERHÄLTNISSE GOTTES ZUR WELT UND ZUM MENSCHEN. By _Dr. Eugen Rolfes_. Berlin: Mayer & Müller. 1892.

This book is a scholastic “survival.” The author believes that Zeller’s interpretation of Aristotle is wrong, and in five formal theses he endeavors to prove _secundum artem_ that the philosopher was a theist who taught the creation of the world from nothing, and the immortality of the soul. In the defence of his theses he manifests some ingenuity and industry, but no criticism. The work has no scientific significance.

P. S.

MAX STIRNER UND FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE. Erscheinungen des modernen Geistes und das Wesen des Menschen. By _Robert Schellwien_. Leipsic: C. E. M. Pfeffer, 1892. Price 2 m 60 pf.

Individualism is the spirit of the age, and among all the champions of individualism the most original, the most consistent, the boldest, are perhaps Max Stirner and Friedrich Nietzsche. Robert Schellwien, in sketching their views in great outlines, partly admires these courageous thinkers who dare to draw the consequences of their principles to the very last even though they will appear absurd to the world, partly censures the rashness with which they arrive at, and the superciliousness with which they sometimes state, their opinions. Upon the whole the author succeeds in impressing the reader that there is in these two peculiar geniuses a gigantic strength, and that their views of truth, morality, and justice deserve a greater attention than they have received. The reviewer is no admirer of either Stirner or Nietzsche; he believes nevertheless that a careful analysis of their erratic minds and lives will be very instructive. It will be first of pathological and then even of more than pathological interest. The actual objective value of the ideals truth, morality, and justice, will be best illustrated by showing all the consequences of a consistent individualism. We hope that this pamphlet will grow into a more comprehensive work; and in that case we should advise the author to add short biographies of his heroes.

κρς.

THE SOURCES AND DEVELOPMENT OF KANT’S TELEOLOGY. By _James Hayden Tufts_. Chicago: University Press. 1892.

This little tract is an inaugural dissertation presented by Mr. Tufts to the University of Freiburg for the attainment of the doctorate of philosophy. It is written in English. Mr. Tuft’s dissertation is wholly historical. He simply seeks to expound Kant’s true views. In this respect the work bears the marks of much research and of a thorough exploitation of Kant’s works. Mr. Tuft’s concluding words are that “with every new discovery of science, every advance in the ideals of art and of the conduct of life, every development in religious faiths, comes anew the task for philosophy to criticise, and through criticism to make a fresh attempt to interpret from the unity of reason the manifold of life.”

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DISTINCTION AND THE CRITICISM OF BELIEFS. By _Alfred Sidgwick_. London: Longmans, Green, & Co. 1892.

This work might be described as an inquiry into the conflict between philosophy and common sense, and its central idea as the continuity of nature. What bearing this idea has on the inquiry is shown by the statement, that the distinction between philosophy and common sense is only one of degree. And yet, regarded as methods, or attempts to follow ideals, they may be sharply contrasted. This implies the existence of distinctions, and hence arises the question how far distinction is consistent with continuity in nature. The recognition of such a continuity requires the admission of the unreality of distinctness, but this fact is not inconsistent with the use of rough distinctions, which give rise to what the author terms effective ambiguity. Here we have the field of the operation of common sense, which exhibits itself as tact in the use of rough distinctions, while, on the other hand, philosophy may be said to be concerned with the continuity which, from a superficial glance, might be supposed to stand in opposition to distinction.

The ultimate result which Mr. Sidgwick has in view is the reconciliation of philosophy and common sense, although it is incidental to his main purpose, which is the discussion of the best way of dealing with ambiguity, that is, of using rough distinctions. The improvement suggested is the substitution of “reasoned discrimination” for “haphazard tact,” and it is based on the doctrine that “the validity of all distinctions is relative to the purpose for which they are used at the time.” This cannot mean that distinction is merely relative, as it is said that there is no distinction which is quite safe against being broken down. The implication is that a safe distinction is possible, although difficult to find, and consistently with that view, the doctrine has the double aim of repressing excessive belief in distinctions which are, at least for the moment, invalid, and, on the other hand, of “enabling us to justify for a passing purpose, distinctions which are faulty on the whole.” The justification here arises from the use, and not from the distinctions themselves, although it is evident there must be some basis for them, or they would be invalid. The element of truth is derived from the continuity of nature, with which philosophy is concerned, and hence the improvement in the method of common sense is to be effected through its regulation by the method of philosophy.

The justice of this view may be tested by its consequences, which are stated by the author in reviewing the chief incidental aims of his book, as being those which have to do with controversy, the faults of language, and the conflict between the rival ideals, faith and doubt. “Philosophy,” we are told, “is doubt, just as science is knowledge,” (a description which like many other things in this book we cannot endorse,) and the true centre of philosophical interest in regard to rival ideals is “to harmonise the dispute by seeking how to limit each ideal by its opposite.” This is the aim of all real philosophy, which recognises that every ideal has an element of truth. Philosophy is thus explanation, and Mr. Sidgwick avers one of the great dividing forces in philosophy has always been “the rivalry between two opposite methods of general explanation—that which explains small things by great ones, the part by the whole, the many by the one (e. g. all earthly facts as related to their one cause and substance); and that which explains great things by small ones, the whole by its parts, the one by the many (e. g. the system of nature as a ‘concourse of atoms’).” Thus regarded, the distinction between philosophy and common sense is simply one of method; and it may be said to consist in the use by the former of rational doubt based on scientific knowledge, as distinguished from the belief founded on popular wisdom which distinguishes the latter. Both alike, however, are the fruit of observation, pushed further, nevertheless, in the one case than in the other, which is practically the view expressed by the author.

In considering the nature of philosophy, we have given the gist of Mr. Sidgwick’s reflections on controversy, which is treated as the opposition of ideals. This conflict is kept alive chiefly by doubt as to how abstract notions should be applied in concrete cases, and largely owing to “the absence of that kind of sharp distinction which is applicable, not only to the notions themselves, but to the actual facts to which they pretend to refer.” This view is ably enforced, as well as the necessity of applying to the conflict between ideals the rule laid down as to the purposive validity of distinctions. The operation of this rule would be attended with concession instead of assumption, there being, however, the admission, which is equivalent to an assumption, that neither side of any ideal dispute is devoid of some truth as well as some error. This is really required, if not by the continuity of nature, yet by continuity in our interpretation of nature. This is continuity in thought, and hence arises the difficulties connected with language which it is one of the author’s incidental aims to point out. He supposes that language acts as a drag on the progress of knowledge, owing to the _clumsiness_ of words arising from the fact that “things spoken of are always more full of change and movement than the words we can use in speaking of them.”

Mr. Sidgwick insists upon continuity, yet change itself may be evidence of at least partial discontinuity. Our author remarks, in an appendix note on the continuity of nature, that every change, as such, is a _saltus_, however small it may be, and that the same is true of any gap between the two extremes of nature and the intermediate region. That such an intermediate region exists, is required by the continuity of nature, which again is evidence of change, on the principle that every chain is made up of a series of links. But as in the chain there is no real gap between the links, so there is no actual discontinuity consequent on change in nature. The two extremes may be regarded as prolongations of the intermediate region, and the changes to which such prolongation is due may so occur that there may be discontinuity between certain parts, as between the fibres of which a hempen rope is made, and yet there be a perfectly continuous whole. We have an example of such a discontinuous _continuum_ in a beam of ordinary light, which presents not the slightest gap, and which yet is made up of numberless undulations in different ratios representing the six spectrum colors, each of which is, moreover, spread throughout the whole of the beam. Here we see that continuity is quite consistent with distinction. The latter may be regarded as discrimination of the various phases of the former, and the distinction remains valid or otherwise according to the accuracy of the discrimination or not. But constant change of distinction is required by progress in knowledge which may be regarded as a thought representation, by discontinuous steps, of the continuity of nature.

As to the conflict between faith and doubt, the author considers the function of scepticism as the search for grounds of belief, and thus doubt is said to be “rather a friend than an enemy to those who remember that there is still some truth, on any subject, for fallible men to learn,” as well as to those who are more interested in the discovery of truth than in supporting their own beliefs.

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VORLESUNGEN ÜBER GEOMETRIE, unter besonderer Benutzung der Vorträge von Alfred Clebsch. By _Dr. Ferdinand Lindemann_. Leipsic: B. G. Teubner. 1891.

This first part of the second volume of Alfred Clebsch’s Lectures has been arranged and treated by Professor Lindemann in the same way as the first, except perhaps that the editor has extended his independent investigations rather further than before, owing mainly to the fact that he had in addition to his own notes when attending Professor Clebsch’s lectures in 1871-1872, only five folio pages of the late master’s manuscript at his disposal. The present volume is divided into three parts. I. The Point, Plane, and Straight Line. II. Surfaces of the Second Order and of the Second Class. III. Fundamental Conceptions of Projective and Metrical Geometry. Historical notices and references are added in foot-notes. Considering the prominence of the editor as a mathematician, it would be a presumption on our part to praise his work.

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AN INTRODUCTION TO GENERAL LOGIC. By _E. E. Constance Jones_. London: Longmans, Green, & Co. 1892.

This work is another witness of the great interest now being taken in all that pertains to the methods of knowledge.

Miss Jones, the author, is lecturer on logic at Girton College, Cambridge. During an experience of several years in teaching, certain difficulties have very forcibly pressed themselves upon her attention. She hopes by her book to aid in removing these difficulties.

It is certainly a good augury for women when their intellectual representatives begin to show the disposition to turn towards the “dry light.” Logic and mathematics are “dry” to be sure; that is, they are very apt to be _found_ dry, very dry, by beginners, and always by those who lack that real intellectual robustness which is alone fit to meddle with fundamental problems. Hence these sober and severe disciplines find little favor among those who seek merely for “showy” attainments, those to whom whatever is “uninteresting” is intolerable, and those who regard obscurity as inseparable from profundity. When then we find scholarly women manifesting a real relish for this “dry light,” it gives promise of a coming day when the intellectual appetite will rise above the level of mere entertainment, the level of the playhouse and the circus, and take kindly, and perhaps zealously, to real edification.

Miss Jones makes but very modest claims on behalf of her treatise. She has not undertaken to innovate to any great extent upon the regular scheme. If in her changes there is that which might especially provoke criticism, it is perhaps in the nomenclature which she adopts. The traditional logic forms a system which has its own proper merits and defects. It is of great historical interest, and its regular terminology is almost indispensable for the proper illustration of its doctrines.

We think also that the author fails to state the case in all its amplitude, when, she lays it down as one of the most absolute and ultimate of all logical principles that the self-evident ought to be believed. The truth is, as we conceive it, that the self-evident is sure to be believed, and that in the face of any proposition that truly bears its own justification along with it, any doctrine of logic is either useless or impertinent.

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HYPNOTISMUS UND SUGGESTION. By _W. Wundt_. Leipsic: Wilhelm Engelmann. 1892.

A Greek student translates κλεινός ‘small’; “You are thinking of the German _klein_,” says the teacher quickly. Another renders ἡμείς γὰρ ἁγνοί, ‘we are lambs,’ misled by a chance cross association with the Latin _agni_. Every careful self-observer knows that there is no combination of memories, images, and resultant incipient acts too absurd for some moments of confusion and mental fatigue. We account for such confusions of thought by citing parallel cases and adding generally that normal associations are liable to disintegration and abnormal recombination in fatigued or excited conditions of the brain. If we seek a causal scientific explanation, two methods are open to us: (1) we may attempt to map out in detail and describe for all similar cases the pathways of association, or (2) we may endeavor to define their physiological conditions and accompaniments in the nervous system. The first leads us at once into the metaphysics of the unconscious. The second method, when we attempt to pass from a general to a specific correspondence, leads to a hypothetical restatement of the observed psychological facts in terms of the latest cerebral anatomy and physiology Now all serious scientific thinkers are fast coming to the conclusion (on which Wundt’s book is based) that the phenomena of dreams and of hypnotism are to be explained by the general laws of association as revealed especially in the confused and obstructed associations of the normal state. The critical and destructive part of Wundt’s sensible and timely work has two aims: (1) to discriminate the attested phenomena of hypnotism from the alleged phenomena of thought-transference, telepathy, and “possession” on which no serious student will waste his words; and (2) to point out the confusions of thought in current explanations of hypnotic phenomena, which either confine themselves to restatements of the observed facts in terms of a hypothetical anatomy, or at any rate in Wundt’s opinion base their physiological hypotheses on an inadequate psychological analysis. His own constructive work is an attempt to supply the missing analysis and accompany it with the most plausible physiological theory that our imperfect science allows. Dreams and the illusions of the hypnotic subject are doubtless explicable generally as derangements of the associative machinery. But they are specific forms of abnormal association, the special characteristics of which we wish to define. Suggestion, Wundt says (with James), is association accompanied by a “limitation of consciousness to the images aroused by the association.” The scientific problem is: _Wie entsteht die Einengung des Bewusstseins?_ This narrowing of consciousness manifests itself in a diminished sensibility to all impressions outside of the suggestions. Dreams show the same features, accidental impressions of sense or changes in the nutritive processes here taking the place of direct suggestions from without. But in sleep and dreams the limitation of consciousness is conditioned by general fatigue of the nervous system. In the hypnotic state it results not from fatigue, but from neuro-dynamic and vaso-motor changes in the distribution of tensions in the brain. Hence the superior intensity and vividness of the presentations that are allowed to develop themselves. This altered equilibrium of the forces of the brain is brought about by the suggestions of the operator, which are generally guided by him to a more or less definite end. The resulting derangements of normal associations are consequently less lawless than is the case in dreams. On these principles Wundt explains the chief facts of hypnotism as follows: Automatic obedience to the commands of the operator results simply from the fact that every idea tends to realise itself in action, is an incipient act; and in the narrowed consciousness of the hypnotic subject the idea suggested by the operator finds no competitors in the struggle for existence as a reality. This explanation (which is really as old as Spinoza) accounts also for positive hallucinations—there are no reductors, as Taine would say. Negative hallucinations (the non-existence of an existing door) may be explained sometimes by a contradictory positive hallucination (as of a curtain covering the door) more often in the same way as hypnotic analgesia by the familiar analogy of our insensibility to the toothache when the attention is elsewhere strongly engaged. This is favored by the generally diminished sensibility of the hypnotic subject. Post-hypnotic suggestions are associations depending on partial memories, such as we have in the normal state when we merely recall an image or an object without time-and-circumstance localisation. The subject who is to execute a post-hypnotic suggestion at 7 o’clock is reminded by the striking of the clock of an image of a thing to be done which the original command of the operator associated with the stroke of seven. All else is forgotten. When the time limit is not thus definitely marked, the process must be analogous to that whereby some persons are able to waken at a predetermined hour in the morning. A latent association is aroused into full activity by naturally recurring conditions of internal physiological processes or external surroundings. Courtesy or prudence are perhaps all that prevent the best explanation of certain extreme cases being the old one: “the boy lied.” Wundt rejects the claim that suggestion is the experimental method in psychology _par excellence_, for the very sufficient reason that the phenomena experimented with are only very partially in the control of the operator and are furthermore mainly pathological. He is far from disputing the practical efficacy of hypnotic therapeutics in functional disorders, but he regards the hypnotic sleep as a dangerous remedy, the employment of which should be limited to trained practitioners. The subjection of the hypnotic subject to the will of the hypnotiser is _a priori_ an immoral relation to obtain between man and man unless justified by superior medical necessities, but, quite apart from _a priori_ ethics, indiscriminate hypnotisation is to be discouraged as a direct cause of nervous degeneration. The book closes as it began With a dignified but severe reprobation of those thinkers who in the interests of occultism magnify the psychological significance of hypnotism and disseminate superstition in the name of science.

PAUL SHOREY.

DER HYPNOTISMUS IN GEMEINFASSLICHER DARSTELLUNG. By _Dr. Hans Schmidkunz_. Stuttgart: A. Zimmer (E. Mohrmann). 1892.

This book (266 pp.) is a popular compendium of hypnotism. The author, beginning (I) with the hypnosis of common life, goes over the whole field as follows: (II) the phenomena of hypnosis, (III) its application, (IV) the “beyond” of hypnotism, (V) the conceptions of hypnotism, and (VI) its dangers. The seventh and last chapter is a short history of the subject.

Dr. Schmidkunz, Docent of philosophy at the University of Munich, is one of the few who believe that there is a “beyond” in hypnotism. He says on p. 65: “A hypnotised person was led through a room while sleeping. The experimenter made a few passes over his head and then violently whirled his arm around in a vertical direction before his subject. When the subject approached the marked place, he recoiled from it crying with pain.” Our author asks, “what is this magnetic wall to be regarded as? As a charm, as an obstacle of occult power, from which the body recoils as from a wall of stone? If not, was it the subject’s soul that recoiled? Was it the hypnotised person’s belief which created the wall?” etc. The two interpretations, the one attributing the effect to a magnetic power, the other to suggestion are typical. The former is bolder: he goes “beyond” hypnotism.

Our author is one of those who go beyond hypnotism, and is not satisfied with the theory that suggestion explains all. We may add that he regards telepathy as a sufficiently established fact. Telepathy finds little support among scientists in Germany, and Dr. Schmidkunz complains, in a circular letter to “Professor Wundt’s and other Savants’ Critical Saltomortales” of the cool and depreciative treatment which his book _Psychologie der Suggestion_ received at the hands of men of science.

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L’HYPNOTISME DEVANT LES CHAMBRES LEGISLATIVES BELGES. Par _J. Delbœuf_. Paris: Félix Alcan. Pp. 80.

In a recent number of _The Monist_ Prof. J. Delbœuf gave the reasons which have induced him to come to the conclusion that “persons in an hypnotic condition preserve at least a sufficient portion of their intelligence, their reason, together with freedom of action, to prevent them from committing deeds that neither their conscience nor their habits approve of.” This opinion is entertained by many other hypnotists, but the more general opinion is that “suggestion” may be made use of for criminal purposes: Such is the case especially in France and in Belgium; and acting on that supposition the medical faculty of the latter country promoted in the legislative Chamber a law interdicting public hypnotic séances, and reserving the practice of hypnotism as a therapeutic measure exclusively to medical men, as well as the treatment of insane persons and those under twenty-one years of age. Professor Delbœuf, who is not a medical man, naturally objects when those who but a few years ago would have classed him and his fellow hypnotists as charlatans, seek without reason to reserve for themselves the promising field of labor opened up by the researches of others. He maintains that men are born hypnotisers as they are born artists, and therefore to exclude all but medical men from the application of the hypnotic power will often prevent its use for curative purposes. Moreover it is a serious question for those who possess this natural gift. They might perform the most praiseworthy actions and yet be subjected to a legal penalty. Professor Delbœuf states that by hypnotism he cured a youth eighteen years of age of a mania for stealing (_la manie du vol_), and thus saved him from unmerited dishonor. On another occasion he had charge of a young wife who was possessed with the idea of murdering her children, and after all other means had failed he was able to remove the idea by suggestion extending over a period of eight days. He properly asks whether the performance of such actions ought to be treated as criminal.

The real question to be considered, however, is whether the practice of hypnotism is likely to be made use of for criminal purposes if it is permitted to every one. We much doubt whether any actual case of such an abuse has been legally established, or whether suggestion could lead to the perpetration of a criminal act unless there was a predisposition in that direction. Professor Delbœuf makes use, however, of an apparent paradox which would seem to render abortive any such law of prevention as that above referred to. It is that there is in reality no such thing as hypnotism. M. Bernheim writes in a letter given in the present work, “for my part, in the thousands of hypnotisations I have practised, I have never seen the least inconvenience result. Undoubtedly very impressionable subjects can, under the emotional influence of auto-suggestion, present certain nervous troubles; but these a prudent operator can always calm by suggestion.” Professor Delbœuf relates several cases of this kind within his own experience, which shows that severe nervous pain can be removed by simple assertion that it does not exist. He affirms that “the so-called hypnotic sleep is only a sign of suggestibility, and that it is not at all necessary to suggestive therapeutics.”

We may conclude this notice of a very interesting contribution to the discussion as to the true nature and operation of hypnotism, by quoting the conclusions arrived at by the author as to the proper mode of regulating its practice. He suggests that representations of hypnotism should be permitted subject to the measures which regulate public spectacles; that any one should be allowed to become a hypnotiser, as he can become a shampooer or a truss-maker; that the hypnotist who gives remedies should be punishable, since he exercises the art of curing without a diploma; that he should not be allowed to hypnotise minors without the consent of the family; and that he should be forbidden to treat a sick person without the written authorisation of a medical man and under his direction. This rule Professor Delbœuf, although he disapproves of the law which forbids the practice of medicine to those who have not a diploma, has always acted on. He thinks that if medical men then studied hypnotism and practised it themselves, hypnotisers who had no diplomas would soon have nothing to do. This spirited defence by Professor Delbœuf of his views will be widely read. Not the least interesting portion of it is the criticism, with which it ends, of “the affair of the brothers Vandevoir,” where we read that he is designated by his opponent M. Masoin “_doux et bon vieillard_” and “_l’homme cheveu_”!

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UEBER DEN HAUTSINN. By _Dr. phil. et med. Max Dessoir_, Privatdocenten an der Universität zu Berlin. Separat-Abzug aus Archiv für Anatomie und Physiologie. Physiologische Abtheilung. 1892.

This pamphlet, a reprint from the _Archiv für Anatomie und Physiologie_ of 1892, is an elaborate and careful investigation into the _modus operandi_ of skin sensations. The first part is a discussion of the theory of sensation in general containing (1) an analysis of the ideas _Gefühl_, _Empfindung_, and _Wahrnehmung_, (2) a critique of Johannes Müller’s doctrine of specific energies, (3) an exposition of the objectification of sensations. Feeling (_Empfindung_), according to the author, is, no magnitude, its main feature is intensity, quality becomes important only in sensation (_Wahrnehmung_). For the psychology of skin-sensations, we have to note the great influence of accompanying feelings (_Mitempfindungen_). The second part is devoted to the author’s investigations of the sense of temperature. Dr. Dessoir rejects Blix’s point theory; he regards the idea of two different end-apparatuses for warm and cold sensations as an unfounded assumption, and claims that the temperature sense is one mode of sensation possessing two qualities. The intensity of temperature sensations depends not only upon the _vis viva_ of the heat in the stimulus; but also upon five other factors (1) the size of the surface affected, (2) the duration of the affect, (3) the thickness of the epidermis, (4) its conductibility, and (5), last not least, its temperature.

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RECHERCHES D’OPTIQUE PHYSIOLOGIQUE ET PHYSIQUE. By _Clémence Royer_. Brussels Imprimerie Veuve Monnom. 1892.

The first part of this brochure consists chiefly of an examination of the theories of M. M. Hirth and Chauveau on chromatic sensation. The talented authoress disagrees with the view entertained by M. Chauveau, that the sensations of contrast which are fused cerebrally, so as to give, when viewed with both eyes, a white image, are subjective in an intellectual sense. The result is purely physico-physiological, as it is even assuming the intervention of M. Hirth’s _interior eye_. Mad. Royer regards the eyes organised so as to effect a fusion of the colors and forms depicted on the two retinas, and she accepts the conclusion of M. Hirth, that they lessen the real polychromism of objects, the inability to perceive the infra-red and the ultra-violet rays concealing from us a considerable part “of the palette of nature and of its chromatic scale.” The authoress refers with approval to the theory of M. Charpentier that the complementary colors correspond to inverse undulatory phases, which are destroyed by interference in the field of vision.

The second part of Mad. Royer’s pamphlet is devoted to a consideration of the photography of colors, and the theory of light. It points out that the photography of colors, which has been effected to some extent by M. Lippmann, must be a physical and not a chemical process. It is the result of the periodic compressions of the sensitised silver-surface, due to the shocks it receives from the light undulations of the ether, which so modify the surfaces of the silver atoms that they reflect colored rays identical with those received from the object photographed. With reference to the propagation of light, the authoress affirms that the atoms of matter, as well as those of the ether, which differs from matter only in being imponderable and without inertia, are centres of emanation of a continuous and impenetrable fluid, which is however indefinitely expansible or compressible. The size and form of atoms will thus depend on the compressions they receive, and they will be able to accommodate themselves to the spaces to which they are confined by the resistance of the atomic groups by which they are surrounded. But the world may be regarded as consisting of three sorts of atoms: (1) those of the ether which possess their primordial unity of expansive force and are endowed with perfect elasticity; (2) those of ponderable matter, which have lost a portion of their expansive force and elasticity; (3) those which are called vitaliferous, because they have regained their expansive force, and are thus capable of autonomous movements necessary to resist the compressions of the ether and to oppose the inertia of matter. They thus answer to the cell-souls of Haeckel.

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DIE BEWEGUNG DER LEBENDIGEN SUBSTANZ. Eine vergleichend-physiologische Untersuchung der Contractionserscheinungen. By _Max Verworn_, Dr. med., Privatdocent der Physiologie an der Universität Jena. Mit 19 Abbildungen. Jena: Gustav Fischer, 1892.

The mechanism of muscle contraction and expansion and the motions of amœboid substance have been recognised as one and the same problem; and several naturalists, foremost among them Hofmeister, Engelmann, and Edmund Montgomery have investigated it, fully aware of the enormous importance of the subject. The present pamphlet is small, it contains only 103 pages, but it contains the statement of the problem, a description of the author’s experiments, and his solution so lucidly that one cannot read it without great satisfaction. Both processes, expansion as well as contraction, are, according to Verworn, spontaneous motions, and both are to be explained by chemotropy. Expansion, i. e., in amœba the protrusion of pseudopodia, is due to the plasma’s hunger for the oxygen, which is contained in the surrounding medium. Every irritation (electric shocks, concussions, injuries etc.) causes a chemical decomposition of the oxygenised plasma; it loses carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen, (as we know from the waste products, carbonic acid, creatine, lactic acid,) and these substances are exactly those which are most prominent in building up living substance. Irritations without exception cause the plasma to return to the nucleus. The chemical change in the plasma makes it hungry for the nuclear substances. The vital process, accordingly, is an interaction between the nucleus, the plasma, and the medium, so that in the constant exchange of materials the old structure is preserved; and the fundamental features of the vital process are first the plasma’s chemotropy for oxygen, causing centrifugal motions, and then its chemotropy for nuclear substance, causing centripetal motions. The plasma saturated with nuclear substances, shows a chemotropy for the oxygen of the medium; it moves in a centrifugal direction, and the oxygenised plasma has become so unstable that it breaks down on the slightest provocation. The decomposed plasma exhibits a chemotropy for nuclear substance and thus returns in contripetal motions to the centre. Without entering into details we may mention that this accounts also for the fact that dying protoplasm always assumes a globular shape, until it crumbles to pieces. The _rigor mortis_ is the last vital action of living substance. The plasma seeks once more the nuclear substance, but not finding sufficient material for being built up again into a substance endowed with a chemotropy for oxygen remains rigid until it decays.

The author finds his theory to hold good for the actions of the striated and nonstriated muscles, and also of ciliated tissues. Having shown that the vital functions are due to the same forces that are observable in the retort of the chemist, he adds: “The savage accordingly was not quite wrong when he drew no distinct line, considering everything moving as alive. Life is motion. That old poetical view of all nature being animated with life throughout was in possession of a germ of truth, and our proud civilisation has actually made a retrogressive step in abandoning this view.”

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GRABER’S LEITFADEN DER ZOOLOGIE FÜR DIE OBEREN CLASSEN DER MITTELSCHULEN. Vienna and Prague: F. Tempsky. 1892. Price 1 fl. 60 kr.

We had occasion in a recent number of _The Monist_ to review an excellent text-book of physics published by this same house. The present work on zoology is in its second edition, and is intended, like the above-mentioned work of Professor Mach’s, for high-school instruction. Professor Graber, its author, died before the completion of the second edition, and the work was finished by J. Mik.

Graber’s Zoology is unique in its class; it covers, within the restricted limits of two hundred and sixty-one pages, the whole field of elementary biology, human physiology, and zoology, as it is usually exploited in such books, and thus combines in a single volume what is usually contained in two or three. The human organism (Part 1) is made the starting-point of study in the work, and the explication of the physiological and mechanical functions of animals are thus all grouped about this central figure. In a concise form (55 pages) this book contains about all of human anatomy and physiology that is usually learned in high-schools. Part 1 also contains, at the end of the discussions, brief dietetic suggestions. “Systematic Zoology” is taken up in the Second Part. This part is well analysed and arranged. The cuts are also excellent. Attached to the book is a “Picture-Atlas.” This atlas contains a number of colored plates, which depict various physiological and anatomical organs, and also four beautiful representations of scenes from the Naples Aquarium. Although this book will not be used by English school-students, it may be recommended to students of scientific German who wish a good introduction into the technical vocabulary of German biology and zoology, which to the foreigner is very difficult.

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L’ANTHROPOLOGIE DU BENGALE. By _Paul Topinard_. Extracted from _L’Anthropologie_ for May-June, 1892. Paris: G. Masson.

The present contribution to the science of Anthropology by the Editor of _L’Anthropologie_, is based on the anthropometric inquiries of Mr. H. H. Risley made under instructions from the government of Bengal. The conclusions deduced by Dr. Topinard from the large mass of material brought together by Mr. Risley, and which relates to members of all the castes to be met with in Bengal, are of great interest. He finds that the populations are much mixed, but that they may be divided into three types, one tall and dolichocephalic, that of the Aryans; another short and brachycephalic, derived from northern Asiatics; and the third short and dolichocephalic, or that of the native blacks. India is a world by itself, and most of its inhabitants belong to races of which there is no specimen in Europe. Dr. Topinard naturally attaches more importance to physical than to ethnographical characters as evidence of anthropological descent, and he is justified by Mr. Risley’s researches, of which he speaks very highly; although he thinks they would have been more fruitful if the anthropometrical instructions prepared by the French Anthropologist had been more strictly adhered to. That they were not so is the more surprising as Mr. Risley’s work is dedicated to Dr. Topinard himself.

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UEBER SITTLICHE DISPOSITIONEN. By _Dr. Anton Oelzelt-Newin_, Privatdocent an der Universität in Bern. Graz: Leuschner & Lubensky. 1892. Price Mk. 2 70 Pf.

The main idea of this book is to prove that there are certain innate dispositions forming the elements of morality. The elements of morality are according to Dr. Oelzelt-Newin the attitudes of fear, anger, love, sympathy, shame, and pride. Conscience is a complex which has developed from these six dispositions. Having stated sufficient evidences for the heredity of moral dispositions and illustrated the parallel phenomena of bodily states in their reference to moral alienation, the author treats the six elements of morality in single chapters, explaining their causes and the influence of conditions under which they develop either into virtues or crimes. The essay (92 pp.) is a contribution to that ethical determinism which regards evil as the necessary result of given factors. “Religious people should say: Not Only the stone which falls from the roof and kills a just man, but also the will of a criminal and the punishment of the judge are inscrutable ordinances of God. That alone is a true theodicy.” As an optimist the author trusts that the evil of the world will be conquered with legal means and enjoins priests to revise in this sense their creed, jurists their law, and all men their love of mankind.

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THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE. And the Wonders of the World We live in. By Sir _John Lubbock_. New York: Macmillan & Co. 1892. 429 pages. Price $1.50.

NATUR UND KUNST. Studien zur Entwicklungsgeschichte der Kunst. By _Carus Sterne_. Berlin: Verein für deutsche Literatur. 1892.

The first of these two books is a delightful compilation by Sir John Lubbock. It is another addition to that series of popular works which this well-known naturalist is now giving to English-speaking peoples. It makes no pretension of being scientific: it simply takes the world which science has revealed and shows us its wonders and its beauties. Yet it insinuates many a scientific fact and inculcates many a moral lesson. No one will regret the few hours that can be spent in its perusal, and the stimulus derived from it will heighten the pleasure which every religiously-minded heart takes in the contemplation of natural grandeur and truth. In the main, it is intended for unscientific readers. It requires hardly any preparatory knowledge to be understood; yet it sometimes touches on a truth that even great thinkers overlook. Thus, _à propos_ of the capacity for intact divisibility which some life-forms possess, Sir John remarks that these considerations introduce “much difficulty into our conception of the idea of an Individual.” “In fact,” he says, “the realisation of the idea of an individual gradually becomes more and more difficult, and the continuity of existence, even among the highest animals, gradually forces itself upon us. I believe that as we become more rational, as we realise more fully the conditions of existence, this consideration is likely to have important moral results.” The work is divided into the following chapters: “Animal Life,” “Plant Life;” “Woods and Fields,” “Mountains,” “Water,” “Rivers and Lakes,” “The Sea,” “The Starry Heavens.”

The second of the two books that head this review is by Carus Sterne. Few men possess the wide technical knowledge and the same command of the historical literature of his subject, that this investigator and writer possesses. Carus Sterne unites with a rigorous scientific training the rare qualities of philosophical insight and sound erudition. He possesses the scientific facts on which to base valid judgments, and he deduces from these facts the inferences that affect the most important problems of life—its culture and morality. We have had occasion before, to refer to these phases of Carus Sterne’s activity as an author.

In the present work the author of _Werden und Vergehen_ discusses the relations which obtain between nature and art. Here is not the place to give even a synopsis of the great wealth of material which this book of 395 pages contains; we are allowed simply to hint at its purport and methods. Carus Sterne defines the artistic impulse in man to be a longing of the mind to rise above the ordinary routine of physical existence. It is a lifting ourselves out of our every-day life. This cannot be accomplished by the simple reproduction of the things of nature; such reproductions have not in themselves an elevating effect. Art is not imitative, art is creative. It uses color, form, space, merely as a means to give “local habitation” to an idea. The imitation of actually existing things is the beginning of art; but it is its lowest stage. Nature must be our guide, our norm, not our model. Here the middle road is taken between the old and the new idea of art. That was ultra-idealistic, this is ultra-realistic. The author then proceeds to discuss the notion of beauty in art and nature (Part I) and finally takes up generally (Part II) the subject of the artistic contemplation and reproduction of the world. All these topics, with their many subdivisions, are treated in Carus Sterne’s best and most fascinating style. The work is well illustrated, and all interested in the natural history of art will find in it a storehouse of valuable material.

μκρκ.

FOOTNOTES:

[58] Cf. Ward, _Encyclopædia Britannica_, Vol. XX, p. 44.

PERIODICALS.

ZEITSCHRIFT FÜR PSYCHOLOGIE UND PHYSIOLOGIE DER SINNESORGANE.

CONTENTS: Vol. IV. No. 3.

UEBER DIE SOGENANNTE CONSCIENCE MUSCULAIRE (DUCHENNE). By _A. Pick_.

EINE NEUE THEORIE DER LICHTEMPFINDUNGEN. By _Christine Ladd-Franklin_.

LITTERATURBERICHT. (Hamburg and Leipsic: Leopold Voss.)

Mrs. Christine Ladd Franklin (a contributor to this number of _The Monist_) is one of those few women who have actually won a well deserved reputation as a thinker and scientific worker. She is an American by birth and the wife of an American savant. It is pleasant to find her name in a German periodical among whose editorial writers are men so prominent as Ebbinghaus, König, Exner, Helmholtz, Hering, Kries, Lipps, G. E. Müller, Pelman, Preyer, and Stumpf. Mrs. Ladd criticises Helmholtz and Hering, and thinks that the theories of Donders (in Gräfe’s “Archiv,” 1884) and Göller (in Du Bois-Reymond’s “Archiv,” 1888) have not received sufficient attention. In accord with their propositions, she sets forth an exceedingly simple hypothesis which attempts an explanation of the three main colors by atomic motions in the three different dimensions of space.

PHILOSOPHISCHE MONATSHEFTE.

CONTENTS: Vol. XXVIII. Nos. 9 and 10.

UEBER DIE GRUNDFORMEN DER VORSTELLUNGSVERBINDUNG. Psychologische Studie. (Concluded.) By _M. Offner_.

DER BEGRIFF DER VERSCHMELZUNG UND DAMIT ZUSAMMENHÄNGENDES IN STUMPF’S “TONPSYCHOLOGIE,” BAND II. By _Th. Lipps_.

WERKE ZUR PHILOSOPHIE DER GESCHICHTE UND DES SOCIALEN LEBENS (Third Article: _J. S. Mackenzie_, An Introduction to Social Philosophy; _J. H. Ferguson_, The Philosophy of Civilisation; _W. A. Macdonald_, Humanitism). By _F. Tönnies_.

CONTENTS: Vol. XXIX. No. 1 and 2.

DIE MODERNE ENERGETIK IN IHRER BEDEUTUNG FÜR DIE ERKENNTNISSKRITIK. By _K. Lasswitz_.

DIE SITTLICHE FRAGE EINE SOCIALE FRAGE (I). By _F. Staudinger_.

RELIGIONSPHILOSOPHISCHE THESEN. By _E. von Hartmann_.

LITTERATURBERICHT. (Berlin: Dr. R. Salinger.)

ZEITSCHRIFT FÜR PHILOSOPHIE UND PHILOSOPHISCHE KRITIK. Vol. 101. No. 1.

CONTENTS:

PSYCHOLOGISCHE APHORISMEN. By _Otto Liebmann_.

UNTERHALB UND OBERHALB VON GUT UND BÖSE. By _Eduard von Hartmann_.

JAHRESBERICHT ÜBER ERSCHEINUNGEN DER ANGLO-AMERIKANISCHEN LITTERATUR AUS DER ZEIT VON 1890-1891. By _Friedrich Jodl_.

ZUR BEGRÜSSUNG DES ZWEITEN HUNDERTS DER BÄNDE DIESER ZEITSCHRIFT. By _Prof. Dr. Rud. Seydel_.

RECENSIONEN. (Leipsic: C. E. M. Pfeffer.)

THE AMERICAN JOURNAL OF PSYCHOLOGY. October, 1892. Vol. V. No. 1.

CONTENTS:

DISTURBANCE OF THE ATTENTION DURING SIMPLE MENTAL PROCESSES. By _Edgar James Swift_.

PSEUDO-CHROMESTHESIA, OR THE ASSOCIATION OF COLORS WITH WORDS, LETTERS, AND SOUNDS. By _William O. Krohn_, Ph. D.

REPORT ON AN EXPERIMENTAL TEST OF MUSICAL EXPRESSIVENESS. (Part II.) By _Benjamin Ives Gilman_.

The present investigation made by Mr. Edgar James Swift shows that a disturbance of the attention through sight is more effective in lengthening the reaction time than when the disturbance comes through the sense of hearing; but whenever the reaction follows a slight sensation, the time of choice is less affected by disturbances of the attention than if the excitation is a sound. Dr. William O. Krohn concludes, after carefully studying several hundred cases of pseudo-chromesthesia, that a greater per cent. of them arise from some sort of cerebral work due to the close relation of the cortical centres. Mr. Gilman concludes from experiments made with various persons, that musical expressiveness has been overestimated, and that on the emotional theory of its nature the importance of the art has also been overestimated. (Worcester: J. H. Orpha.)

MIND. New Series. No. 4. October, 1892.

CONTENTS:

THE FIELD OF ÆSTHETICS PSYCHOLOGICALLY CONSIDERED, II. By _Henry Rutgers Marshall_.

LOTZE’S ANTITHESIS BETWEEN THOUGHT AND THINGS, II. By _A. Eastwood_.

THE STUDY OF CRIME. By _Rev. W. D. Morrison_.

ON THE PROPERTIES OF A ONE-DIMENSIONAL MANIFOLD. By _Benj. Ives Gilman_.

In his present article Mr. H. R. Marshall finds a basis for the differentiation of Æsthetics from Hedonics, in “pleasure permanency in revival” as belonging particularly to the former. Mr. Eastwood criticises Lotze’s antithesis between thoughts and things which is closely connected with his erroneous opinion that time is a property of things in themselves. The study of crime by Mr. W. D. Morrison discusses crime under the three heads of the movement of crime, its causes, and its repression, of which the last deals with the theory, the methods, and the efficacy of punishment. In his discussion of the properties of a one-dimensional manifold, examples of which are time, the straight line, quantity, intensity, number, and pitch, Mr. B. I. Gilman, who was a pupil of Mr. C. S. Peirce, seeks to give a formulation of one-dimensionality in which the general notion of relation and converse relation is substituted for that of greater and less difference. This number of _Mind_ contains a voluminous note on the blind deaf-mute child, Helen Keller, by Prof G. C. Robertson, the late editor, whose death is announced in the same number. (London: Williams & Norgate.)

Ω.

INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF ETHICS. October, 1892. Vol. III. No. 1.

CONTENTS:

THE NATIONAL TRAITS OF THE GERMANS AS SEEN IN THEIR RELIGION. By _Prof. Otto Pfleiderer_, D. D., University of Berlin.

PHILANTHROPY AND MORALITY. By _Father Huntington_.

INTERNATIONAL QUARRELS AND THEIR SETTLEMENT. By _Leonard H. West_, LL. D., London University.

1792.—YEAR 1. By _David G. Ritchie_, Jesus College. Oxford.

UTILITARIANISM. By _A. L. Hodder_.

BOOK REVIEWS.

(Philadelphia: _International Journal of Ethics_, 118 S. Twelfth Street.)

THE PHILOSOPHICAL REVIEW.

CONTENTS: Vol. I. No. 5.

PSYCHOGENESIS. By _President David J. Hill_.

THE PROBLEM OF EPISTEMOLOGY. By _Professor Andrew Seth_.

THE ORIGIN OF PLEASURE AND PAIN, (II.) By _Dr. Herbert Nichols_.

DISCUSSIONS: REALITY AND “IDEALISM.” By _F. C. S. Schiller_.

REVIEWS OF BOOKS.

SUMMARIES OF ARTICLES.

CONTENTS: Vol. I. No. 6.

GREEN’S THEORY OF THE MORAL MOTIVE. By _Prof. John Dewey_.

THOUGHT BEFORE LANGUAGE. By _Prof. William James_.

PLEASURE-PAIN, AND SENSATION. By _Henry Rutgers Marshall_.

REVIEWS OF BOOKS.

SUMMARIES OF ARTICLES.

(Boston. New York, Chicago: Ginn & Company.)

THE NEW WORLD. December, 1892. Vol. I. No. 4.

CONTENTS:

THE BRAHMO SOMAJ. By _Protap Chunder Mozoomdar_.

THE FUTURE OF CHRISTIANITY. By _William M. Salter_.

PROGRESSIVE ORTHODOXY. By _Egbert C. Smyth_.

MICHAEL SERVETUS. By _Joseph Henry Allen_.

THE PRESENT POSITION OF THE ROMAN CATHOLIC CHURCH. By _G. Santayana_.

THE CHURCH IN GERMANY AND THE SOCIAL QUESTION. By _John Graham Brooks_.

A WORLD OUTSIDE OF SCIENCE. By _Thomas Wentworth Higginson_.

THE BIRTH AND INFANCY OF JESUS. By _Albert Réville_.

THE MONISTIC THEORY OF THE SOUL. By _James T. Bixby_.

The last article is a criticism to the point, discriminating and fair. The author takes special notice of Dr. Carus’s position, whose views are recapitulated with accuracy, but not accepted as convincing. (Boston: Houghton, Mifflin, & Co.)

REVUE PHILOSOPHIQUE.

CONTENTS: September, 1892. No. 201.

LA PERSONNALITÉ DANS LES RÊVES. By _J.-.M. Guardia_.

HISTOIRE ET PHILOSOPHIE RELIGIEUSES. By _M. Vernes_.

SUR LA TERMINOLOGIE PHILOSOPHIQUE. By _Durand (de Gros)_.

COMPTES RENDUS ET NOTICES BIBLIOGRAPHIQUES.

CONTENTS: October, 1892. No. 202.

DU TROUBLE DES FACULTÉS MUSICALES DANS L’APHASIE. By _Dr. Brazier_.

LE DÉVELOPPEMENT DE LA VOLONTÉ. (Concluded.) By _A. Fouillée_.

LE MOUVEMENT PÉDAGOGIQUE. By _E. Blum_.

ANALYSES ET COMPTES RENDUS.

REVUES DES PÉRIODIQUES ÉTRANGERS.

CONTENTS: November, 1892. No. 203.

LA PSYCHOLOGIE DE W. JAMES. By _L. Marillier_.

DE L’UNITÉ DE LA SCIENCE: LES GRANDES SYNTHÈSES DU SAVOIR. By _E. de Roberty_.

SUR LES DIVERSES FORMES DU CARACTÈRE. By _Th. Ribot_.

VARIÉTÉS.

ANALYSES ET COMPTES RENDUS.

REVUE DES PÉRIODIQUES ÉTRANGERS. (Paris: Félix Alcan.)

PHILOSOPHISCHES JAHRBUCH. Vol. V. No. 4.

CONTENTS:

DIE NEUESTE PHASE DES SCHOPENHAUERIANISMUS. (Concluded.) _Bäumker._

DIE SPECULATIVEN GRUNDLAGEN DER OPTISCHEN WELLENTHEORIE. (Concluded.) _S. J. Linsmeier._

RELIGION UND ENTWICKELUNGSTHEORIE. (Concluded.) _Schanz._

DER SUBSTANZBEGRIFF BEI CARTESIUS IM ZUSAMMENHANG MIT DER SCHOLASTISCHEN UND NEUEREN PHILOSOPHIE. (Continued.) _S. J. (C.) Ludewig._

RECENSIONEN UND REFERATE. (Fulda: Fuldaer Actien-Druckerei.)

VOL. III. APRIL, 1893. NO. 3.

THE MONIST.

RELIGION AND MODERN SCIENCE.