Chapter XIII: Part 13

I accept all the arguments of Professor Mach that our ideas are artificial products; and I am also anxious to distinguish in our ideas between that which describes facts and that which has been added to the description of facts in shape of theories or conjectures.

The sense-pictures of objects and ideas also are not things but images and symbols of things created for the purpose of representing things; they are as Prof. Lloyd Morgan says, “constructs.” But these constructs are not mere fancy, they are not air-castles. They are constructed in order to imitate certain realities. Now, in building these constructs as an imitation or a copy of reality, we are often at a loss how to build them. There is for instance in the objective reality observed, a something somewhere high in the air, the basis of which is invisible, and being limited in our means of acquiring information we are ignorant of the real state of things. So in reconstructing or imitating the facts, we build scaffolds to support it, and we are too apt to forget that these scaffolds do not represent objective facts but are artifices to make certain facts, which we know in parts only, thinkable, i. e. representable without breaks in mental constructs.

XI. TRUTH IN MYTHOLOGY.

There is one point which I have emphasised and which it appears to me Professor Mach neglects, namely that our noumenal world of ideas has an objective meaning. The ideal constructs represent realities. They do not consist of scaffolds alone and there is no scaffold which has not been erected to help in building up representations of facts. Let us call the representation of facts positive science or simply truth and the scaffolding the mythology of science, and we shall see that the road to truth leads everywhere through mythology. Certain facts of the surrounding world impress themselves upon a sentient being and these impressions come to represent facts. These facts are not seen at once in their causal connection, they appear unconnected among themselves, and in the attempt to formulate them, to represent them, to construct them in mental images, we fill out the gaps of our knowledge with such inventions as are supplied by analogy.

Mythology is, in religion as well as in science, the indispensable ladder to truth. We cannot build without scaffolds. So we cannot construct truth without mythology. We have to introduce allegorical expressions in order to fill out gaps with analogies.

Mythology becomes fatal to the building up of truth, as soon as we consider it as truth itself. The scaffold is erected simply as an assistance for building and if the building is finished the scaffold should be torn down. The progress of science which is so much helped by mythology has periods of purification in which the mythology is discarded. This is sometimes a difficult task, because the very terms of science are mostly both at the same time truth and mythology, building-stones and scaffold.

Take, for instance, the term atom. The chemist observes that the elements always combine in certain proportions and formulates the law of the equivalence of their atomic weights. In order to think this process, to reconstruct it in mental images, he imagines that matter consists of infinitely small particles of constant weight. This is a fiction useful for its purpose but it may be just as erroneous as the method employed in the infinitesimal calculus of thinking of a continuous curve as consisting of a broken line of infinitely small parts, or of thinking of a certain force as being composed of a parallelogram of forces. The parallelogram of forces is a scaffold helpful for representing in mental symbols the coexistence of different abstractions of the same kind (e. g. motions of a different velocity and direction). But this scaffold is not a mere scaffold, it is not erected without any purpose, its final aim is the description of facts.

The proposition to consider light as rays traveling in straight lines is a scaffold, it is mythology; but this analogy contains a truth, it contains a real building-stone which should not be torn down with the scaffold. This truth is one-sided; it represents one feature of light and disregards other features. It disregards entirely the transversal oscillations of the ether, yet it describes another feature—viz., the transmission and refraction of light for the comprehension of which we need not take into consideration the undulation theory. The physicist calculates with his formula sinα/sinβ = _n_ the angle of refraction. There is certainly neither a sineα nor a sineβ in reality, but there are certain relations of reality which are described in these expressions and the action of the light has a definite quality which can be determined with the assistance of the formula sinα/sinβ = _n_.

If the scientist succeeds in determining such real qualities of things, even though it be done with the assistance of mythology, he discovers a truth. He has with the help of his scaffolds succeeded in placing a building-stone where it belongs.

Some scaffolds have to be torn down because they hinder further building; other scaffolds must remain because they assist us in modeling, and planning, and predetermining certain processes of nature. They are like staircases which enable us to reach with ease otherwise inaccessible places on towers or domes.

* * * * *

The idea that science is full of mythology appears strange to the non-scientific, and it is often overlooked by scientists themselves. But the idea that religious mythology in spite of its many irrational superstitions and wrong analogies beams with truth is also little heeded by the many. In fact, man’s method of reaching truth is the same in religion as in science.

The religious ideas such as God and soul are mental constructs which copy certain realities; but these very terms, such as they are used, are mythological expressions; they are still surrounded by their scaffolds. Many people know by their own experience the usefulness and indispensability of the scaffold. Without the scaffold they would never have had an inkling of the truth, for the representation of which it was built, and it is natural that they consider the scaffold as the building itself. This is the reason why the narrow-minded orthodox denounce anyone who would lay hand on or tear down any part of the scaffold, which has become a hindrance to the further development of religious ideals.

Positivism, i. e. the representation of facts without any admixture of theory or mythology, is an ideal which in its purity perhaps will never be realised. Nevertheless it is no _ignis fatuus_, no will-o’-the-wisp that leads us astray. Our science is constantly more and more approaching this ideal and the progress of humanity is intimately connected with it.

Science has not merely a theoretic value, its aim and purpose consist in its application to practical life. Science is throughout ethical. Thus ethics has also its mythological phase. In agreement with Professor Mach (p. 204), we should find it ridiculous if one who presumes to be an ethical teacher of mankind would say:

“Man _must_ not be descended from monkeys,” “The earth _shall_
not rotate,” “Matter _ought_ not everywhere to fill space,”
“Energy _must_ be constant,” and so on.

Why is it ridiculous? Because we cannot prescribe a certain deportment to facts. It is however not ridiculous to let a precise and carefully sifted knowledge of facts determine our own deportment.

Science has to teach ethics. But here also we should distinguish between positive facts and mythology. Ethics based upon mere theories, upon our interpretations of nature which we add to facts, is mythological; positive ethics is simply that deportment which is suggested by a comprehension of the facts themselves.

Mythological ethics may be quite correct, just as much so as the application of a mythological theory of science may be within certain limits reliable as a working hypothesis. But it is desirable to understand the nature of mythological ethics in order to distinguish between truth and fiction.

When Professor Mach speaks of sensations as being the elements of the world and of things as being complexes of these elements he apparently does not use the word sensation in its usual sense. It has ceased to be an abstract term which represents one feature only of a process of nature and has become a symbol for an entire reality. And is not such a usage of terms as if they were not abstracts but the things themselves liable to lead to misconceptions?

Professor Mach’s “elements,” it seems to me, are only elements, i. e. ultimate and unanalysable materials, if considered as terms of a psychological view of the world; they are not elements in the domains of other abstractions, such as are made by physiology or physics. Moreover, although this method eliminates the duality of soul and body, mind and matter, feeling and motion, it does not explain the problem.

Professor Mach might answer that the problem as to the duality of mind and matter is a sham problem, just as much as the problem why do we see things upright when the retina picture of the eye shows the things inverted? But a problem is to him who has solved the problem always a sham problem. Every problem disappears as a problem as soon as it is solved. It is true that we see as little with the blind spot of the eye as with the skin of our back. The problem of the blind spot is not why do we not see with the blind spot, (which is simply a matter of fact,) but why do we not notice, when using only one eye, its lack of sight in a spot surrounded with sight-seeing structures? We have to employ artificial means to convince ourselves that we are really blind in that spot!

All problems are merely subjective; they are a conflict between two conceptions and as Professor Mach himself says, the solution of problems consists in the adaptation of thought to facts, i. e. to new facts or new views of facts. By an adaptation of our thought to the enlarged field of vision the problem vanishes; it has ceased to be a problem. In fact it never existed as an objective phenomenon. There are no problems in nature. There are problems only to the investigating mind. But even the formulation of problems is a problem to be solved, and perhaps the most difficult and subtle kind of problems is to discover the flaw in wrongly formulated problems.

The problem of the duality of body and soul, matter and mind, feeling and motion, ceases to be a problem to him who has worked his way through to a monistic conception, but to those who have not as yet succeeded in establishing a unitary view of these ideas, because they take them to be separate and distinct existences, it is a problem of great importance.

XII. THE ONENESS OF SUBJECTIVITY AND OBJECTIVITY.

The world is not rigid being, but activity, not absolute existence but a system of changing relations, not an abstract _Sein_ but a concrete _Wirklichkeit_—a constant working of cause and effect. There is no dualism in this, for the _Wirklichkeit_ is one and undivided.

Yet every relation admits of two standpoints, just as the line _AB_, which may serve to represent a certain and definite relation, is determinable from both ends, _A_ as well as _B_. Let us call _A_ the subject and _B_ the object. Neither _A_ nor _B_ is a reality, a whole complete _Wirklichkeit_. A thing in order to be real must be active, it must work, it must stand in relation to something else. _A_ is a mere mathematical point, but _AB_ representing a process does something, it performs work, it is real. A thing in itself, if it could exist at all, would be tantamount to non-existence, it would represent a _Sein_ without being _Wirklichkeit_. When bearing this in mind, it appears natural that the oneness of existence, representable in such relations as is that of _AB_ = -_BA_ will admit of two standpoints, _BA_ representing subjectivity, and _AB_ representing objectivity. We can consider the relation of the world at large to one special point (which latter may in its turn stand for a whole system of relations) or vice versa the relation of this point to the world at large. The former standpoint is that of the microcosm, or the soul, the latter that of the macrocosm or the universe; the former results in awareness, the latter appears as matter in motion. The former is subjectivity, the latter objectivity.

Reality must not be conceived of as being a compound of the elements of feeling and of motion, of subjectivity and objectivity or of kinesis and metakinesis. I do not think there are atoms one-half of which contains the potentiality of sentience while the other half is freighted with energy. I conceive of reality as being one throughout, but, being throughout resolvable in relations, it will as a matter of course have two sides. What these two sides are like can be known through experience only, and experience teaches that under certain conditions the subjective side develops into feeling and consciousness, while the objective side is represented in the feeling of conscious beings as motions.

This view explains the duality of our conception of psycho-physical facts, but it is certainly not dualism. The duality belongs to the scaffold not to the facts themselves. The facts can only be thought of as being one and undivided, and no conception can stand except it be monistic.

Subjectivity and objectivity are terms that express relations and not things in themselves. There are, however, philosophers who show a great grief unless either the subjectivity of being, or the objectivity of being, or the unities in which things or personalities are gathered up, are considered as things in themselves. All those features of reality which appear to their conception unexplainable, such as the relations that obtain among things and especially the thoughts of thinking beings are supposed to be the effects of some transcendental entity, of a thing in itself. And if a philosophy denies the existence of transcendentalistic thought-entities or of any such things in themselves, which serve as cement to combine the _disjecta membra_ of their world-conception, it is generally declared to lead straight on to nihilism—not because the world itself but because their world-system would thereby be annihilated.

All things that exist, if considered as separate things, will pass away; but if considered as parts of the all-existence of reality, they are eternal. In fact things are not separate things, in the sense of isolated, absolute, or abstract beings, although we may speak of them as such for our ephemeral purposes. All things that exist, the human soul included, are and will remain parts of the One and All.

This destroys their individuality as little as a brick ceases to be a brick because it serves its part in the building of a dome. The soul of a man if his life be well spent, is not annihilated in death, his soul has become a living stone in the temple of humanity. It continues to live and marches on in the general progress of the race.

We are parts of a great whole now, and we shall remain parts of the same great whole forever. We have never been and shall never be transcendental selfhoods or metaphysical egos, or any kind of things in themselves. Our personality is real life, it is actual being. As such it is bound up in the universal life of the One and All and no particle of it will be lost. We need not fear death, for the air we breathe is immortality.

EDITOR.

FOOTNOTES:

[43] Italics are ours. Kant affirms the italicised question.

[44] The problem of “The Origin of the Mind” having been the subject of a former paper need not be discussed here. See _The Monist_, Vol i, No. 1, p. 69-86, and _The Soul of Man_, pp. 23-46.

[45] It is scarcely necessary to mention that mediæval Realism is different from modern Realism.

[46] Aristotle’s idea of matter being potential existence is a fiction. Fictions of that kind are useful for certain purposes, but we must not forget that they are fictions. We might just as well introduce any other system of fictions. For instance we might with certainly not less propriety look upon the idea in the mind of an artist as potential reality while its appearance in a material shape is conceived to produce actual reality.

[47] The term “absolute” is for that reason neither meaningless nor redundant. It denotes a certain method of viewing things, but is not an objective quality of things.

[48] See the chapter “Soul Life and the Preservation of Form” in _The Soul of Man_, p. 418.

[49] The abandonment of the ego as a metaphysical being is not, as it appears to many, a surrender of the soul or of its immortality. That the immortality of the soul from the standpoint of modern psychology is preserved, that it appears in a new light, grander and nobler than before, and that this conception of immortality is of an enormous practical importance, have been the main incentives of Mr. E. C. Hegeler in founding _The Open Court_ and _The Monist_.

LITERARY CORRESPONDENCE

I.

FRANCE.

The recent work of M. F. PAULHAN, _Le Nouveau Mysticisme_, places us in the presence of a feature of modern life, if not extremely important, at least very curious.

We assist at the formation of a new spirit. But what is it? What is its value? A reply to this question would exact a long and minute analysis of all social facts. M. Paulhan does not flatter himself that he has exhausted it, and he offers us only portions, although excellent and instructive, of the required work. He shows us in rapid review, the dissolution of the ancient world, the intellectual and moral anarchy which has to-day reached its highest possible point; he seeks, in the ruins amidst which we tread, the constructive elements of a new order of things, and makes an effort to foresee what it will be.

“The scientific mind,” writes he, “the religious spirit, pity for suffering, the sentiment of justice, social mysticism, the attraction for mysterious perhaps dangerous facts that we begin to have a glimpse of, the kind of new power which the knowledge of them can give us, a general need of universal harmony: such are the principal characters of the spirit which is forming itself.” They are not, he himself says, all new. It is not the presence of these elements which is significant, but rather the singular combination in which they occur, and we could say, the precipitate that they give in the particular chemical solution where they find themselves thrown. In every case, the phenomenon does not affect entirely, it seems to us, the same characters, according to whether we observe it in the philosophic or scientific order, in the practical order, or in that of sentiment, which literature represents. The name of mysticism does not belong to every part of the new spirit equally; or more exactly, the spirit which is produced could well not be truly mysticism, but only a side phenomenon, and the very evident resurrection of the spirit which is disappearing.

M. Paulhan, if I do not deceive myself, sometimes allows himself to be too much influenced by a certain literature, to which I do not allow a very great value, and of which even the sincerity may be suspected. It represents at first, to my mind, individual conditions, and it evidently impeaches some authors of a morbid diathesis. Many of our prophets, as is known in the _Quartier Latin_, have or affect vices which exclude by themselves all generating power. Then, it is very difficult, in our age, to appreciate exactly the relations of literature to the public mind, seeing the diversity of romantic books, and the correlation of one to the other is perhaps not so strict, so profound as it has been in other junctures of history. In short, the modern romance is a document the relative value of which needs to be established by a most severe critic.

Some facts dominate the question, viewed as a whole. It is necessary to show the work of the scientific mind, which has the result of creating new mental habits. It is necessary to consider also that the disorder, _the spirit of evil_, so finely analysed by M. Paulhan, corresponds chiefly to the interpretations of ignorance, to the exaggerations of sentiment, and to the dreams, more or less monstrous, of inventive fantasy. It is necessary, finally, if they wish to augur of the future, to endeavor to disengage the laws of construction, still badly defined, of our political fabrics. The thought of M. Paulhan is good at bottom, and the materials with which he constructs the _possible future_ are taken from the positive conditions of our mental and social life: in the practical order, “co-operation” is added to the social systems already existing, although disturbed, such as the family and the nation; in the ideal order, the conception, beyond that of humanity, of a “cosmical whole,” and a “universe,” which, to repeat it after Comte, will be favorable to man, in a certain sense, seeing that he causes it to exist.

We recommend the reading of this book. One’s time is never lost with a thinker of the stamp of M. Paulhan; he has the merit this time of disclosing to us in a few pages a vast horizon, where some points are delineated with clearness. Logicism has caused much evil in our country. Let us now beware of mysticism!

* * * * *

One of the most curious episodes of this new mysticism is assuredly the Buddhist preaching, begun in France by a small group of writers. M. AUGUSTIN CHABOSEAU, one of the representatives of this religious tendency, publishes a work, _Essai sur la philosophie boudhique_,[50] which it is expedient to mention. M. Chaboseau has thought it would be of interest to sum up in a volume the results of the studies on Buddhism, and to present it “such as science has proved it, that is to say very different from what Christian polemists, worldly amusers, theosophic fanatics, endeavor to disseminate.” He has had the ambition to write this volume, and for my part, I do not refuse him my curiosity.

But that Buddhism truly contains a religious formula capable of attracting to it the souls of our Occident, I have difficulty in believing. This India is very far from us, and its confused philosophy is behind us. I do not think that the nations of to-day will return to a by-gone mode; and then, this doctrine of Sakya-Muni has something against it, that I hesitate to say, as it might seem puerile: its god is too fat. Its god or its sage, as you wish. Yes, that breadth of form, that opulence of flesh, taken as a mark of goodness and power, shocks our artistic taste. Do not forget that every religion which claims our will ought to satisfy our æsthetic sentiment: it is one of the essential factors of the religious sentiment, a compound sentiment where all the emotions of a race ought to find their harmony. The opposition of India to us, so striking in the ideal of the beautiful, still continues in metaphysical speculation. We are too moderate, too sober, for the debauches of imagination in which it delights. Buddhism will be to us only a passing excrescence, and I ask myself if it lives well in the souls where it has sincerely penetrated.

I should have much to do to speak, in the briefest manner, of all the books or treatises, which in a direct or indirect manner relate either to the war of Aryanism against Semitism, and principally against the Christianism in which certain authors see the most disastrous conquest of Semitic genius; or to the reviving of mystic traditions, strange dreams, and monstrous desires; or to a religious restoration, of which the most ordinary prejudice is to assure the immortality of the soul and to reopen the beyond to man. These works are in general of slight value; they are the multiplication of decays, and we are compelled to consider them as social wastes, of which the abundance betrays unquestionably the bad health of the organism, or at least a difficult crisis of its evolution.

* * * * *

But let us return to the works of philosophy properly so-called. What are we to think of that of M. F. RAUH? I deceive myself much if his _Essai sur le fondement métaphysique der la morale_ is considered of much service in his own circles. M. Rauh, who belongs to the philosophic youth, the youth of the age, can be well assured that the partisans of scientific morality will not upbraid him for “the admiration of high metaphysical thoughts” with which he does himself honor, but he can fear lest the metaphysicians accuse him of further compromising metaphysics by the denser obscurities he casts on it. One is stupefied to find again in a modern book a phraseology so made up of abstract words, of substantives with capitals, and logical shadows which affect the posture of realities. Much study, much work, without advancing one step, and still worse, in order to throw us again into the _culs-de-sac_ from whence we have had so much difficulty to disengage ourselves. All the profit one can derive from this dialectic is to contemplate at the end the vague shadow of its own body that is perceived on the wall.

The metaphysicians of a certain school are not only reluctant to have to accept that morality is a natural formation, a social product, an historical fact; they wish further that the existence even of moral society should depend on the intelligence that they have of it, or of the explanation that they give of it. They affirm boldly, and these are the words even of M. Rauh, that “the fate of morality is united to that of metaphysics”—their metaphysics. This is a pretension as exorbitant as would be that of a naturalist who should refer the reality of the animal world to the idea he formed of zoölogical types, or that of a chemist who should subject the value of the positive results of science to a particular hypothesis as to the constitution of bodies.

* * * * *

There are certain difficulties of language to criticise in the work of M. ISIDORE MAUS, barrister in the Court of Appeals at Brussels, _De la justice pénale, étude philosophique sur le droit de punir_. A curious spectator, he tells us, of the battle waged between the new school of anthropology and the ancient penal jurisprudence, he seeks to divine the issue of it. It will probably end, according to him, in the formation of a medium penal jurisprudence, which will accept limited responsibilities, and which, while protecting society, will do its best “to give to punishment all the advantages it can.”

It would be exaggerated no doubt, I willingly grant it, to take away from repression every mark of moral reparation, all weight of “reformative power”; but I am always shocked to hear partial responsibilities spoken of. From the social point of view, the responsibility remains perfect; it is united, indeed, to the very act of having caused injury, beyond all appreciation. From the point of view of the individual, the word responsibility has the grave inconvenience of implying that the quantity of liberty or free-will attributable to the delinquent is measured. It would be less compromising and more exact, to value simply the quality, the worth of the delinquent, according to the totality of his affective, intellectual, voluntary, and pathological character, according to the nature and the conditions of the act of which he is accused, etc. We should thus escape contradictions of words which easily become contradictions of fact; we should no more stumble at this latent difficulty of free-will, in medium cases—for _serious cases_ are never difficult. Words exercise a tyranny which jurists would do well to distrust.

Is not this, moreover, just about what M. Maus means by his favorite formula—that justice ought “to individualise as much as possible”? It is a pity only that he does not present his conclusions with the requisite clearness. His exposition is not distinct and frank. He has mental habitudes, subtilities of reasoning, which are of value at the Palais, but which it is suitable to rid oneself of when writing a book: his would gain much by being entirely remodeled, made clear and disentangled.

* * * * *

M. E. DE LAVELEYE offers to the public a fourth edition, revised and considerably augmented, of his great work, _De la propriété et de ses formes primitives_. We have not to recall the numerous facts which this work contains and the knowledge of which has become sufficiently general; nor to commend M. de Laveleye, who no longer expects fresh praises for it. I have only to express the regret that he should have retained the theory of property expounded in the last chapter of his book, or rather the metaphysical conception of right with which he connects it. It seems as if he wished to excuse himself from reducing property to the simple value of a fact, modifiable in its forms, by indicating as a fixed point an “order” which shall be the best, which shall be _known_ and _wished_ of God, _sought_ and _realised_ by man.

M. de Laveleye knows it as well as any one. Right is only a rule, an expression of the relations of men among themselves, in a determined geographical and historical medium. Its changes depend, in part on external conditions, in part on the characters of man himself, the state and variable equilibrium of his passions and of his mentality. If certain forms of right establish themselves proportionally, in the course of the life of nations, the fact is explained by the constancy and the universality of certain conditions, either physical or mental; the repetition of social arrangements, which produces ultimately a more stable structure and constitutes a sort of axis of development, is somewhat analogous, if we may be permitted this comparison, to the repetition of the essential elements in all architecture, or of the primitive forms in all the products of the ceramic art. What is the good of enveloping with mystery the ideal we create ourselves, and of rendering obscure a notion that we can positively explain? But let us leave here this little quarrel, for it does not touch the solid groundwork of the book.

Still to signalise are: _Premiers principes métaphysiques de la science de la nature_, translated from Kant by M. M. CH. ANDLER and ED. CHAVANNES, who have written an interesting introduction _On the philosophy of nature in Kant_; and _L’Année philosophique, Iʳᵉ année_ 1890, published under the direction of F. PILLON, former manager of _La Critique philosophique_. There will be found in this last volume two profound studies, one by M. Renouvier on the phenomenist method, the other by M. Pillon on the criticism of the infinite, an excellent article by M. L. Dauriac on philosophy and particularly on the æsthetics of Guyau, finally a bibliography of French works which appeared in 1890. I wish good success to this publication; it will become valuable, and it will be still more so, in my opinion, if M. Pillon, will not recoil before the fatigue, no doubt sufficiently great, of adding to the Bibliography a critical sketch of the review articles published in the course of the year.

LUCIEN ARRÉAT.

FOOTNOTES:

[50] Georges Carré, publisher. The other works mentioned in this article belong to the _Librarie Alcan_.

II.

RECENT GERMAN WORKS IN PSYCHOLOGY.

A well-known alienist, Professor Pelman of Bonn, in a recently published work, advanced the assertion that the literary taste of the day pointed to a considerable decline of the intellectual health of the present generation. To him who assumes with Pelman some causal foundation of this state of affairs, it is indeed an alarming sight to pass in review the show windows of our great book centres Leipsic and Berlin and to discover the great number of editions that the products of the literature of a certain class are passing through.

Among the books that are at present all the vogue, Tolstoï’s “Kreutzer Sonata” stands in the front rank. Numberless articles in the newspapers and the magazines have already made this wonderful work the subject of discussion, both from the æsthetical and from the moral point of view. Now comes a physician, who discusses the psychological aspect of the story, and discusses it in a manner which must claim our interest and to which in the main points it emphasises we cannot deny our assent.

Dr. H. BECK has published at the house of Rauert and Rocco of Leipsic, a brochure bearing the title _Des Grafen Leo Tolstoï Kreutzer Sonate vom Standpunkte des Irrenarztes_, and arrives on the basis of a careful analysis at the result that Tosdnischew is a decidedly neuropathical character. Now as Tolstoï, on his own express declaration in his concluding remarks, places his own views in Tosdnischew’s mouth, this judgment respecting the principal character of the story also holds good in great measure of its author. Generally, indeed, Beck is very considerate towards Tolstoï’s person, in the expression of his opinions; but he is nevertheless very plainly outspoken when he says at the conclusion of his little book: “Let us characterise this monstrous product, the ‘Kreutzer Sonata,’ as that which it appears to every person of sound sentiments—as the emanation, namely, of a diseased brain, of a degenerated Psyche.”

The Munich physician Dr. Puschmann, who in the year 1873 in a special treatise represented Richard Wagner, then still alive, as psychically diseased, has thus found, as we see, in a certain sense a successor in Dr. Beck. But while Puschmann’s pamphlet, having been occasioned by certain conditions of affairs in Munich, was written in a hostile spirit, and while the little book of Beck’s makes no secret of its author’s aversion to Tolstoï and his works, a notorious representative of unhealthy “young Germany,” the novelist Wilhelm Walloth, meets at other hands with an uncommonly tender treatment. There is indeed nothing remarkable in this, for if anyone is in need of tender treatment it is a man who is sick. But it is very remarkable that the diseased state of a nervous system should be accredited to the writer Walloth as a great poetic excellence.

G. LUDWIGS, the author of the treatise _Wilhelm Walloth_, Leipsic, 1891, Verlag von Wilhelm Friedrich, had in so far the advantage of Puschmann and Beck, that he was not placed under the necessity of originally demonstrating what the actual state of the nervous system of his hero was, from his works. This condition had already been established by expert physicians in a much talked of trial before the District Court of Leipsic for circulating obscene publications. Ludwigs was able therefore to proceed immediately with his problem of ascertaining the extent to which a diseased state of the nervous system had effect in Walloth’s novels and poems. His discussion of this last question possesses great interest for the psychologist, although the reader will find considerable difficulty in accommodating his thoughts to Ludwigs’s occasionally very singular style. Setting aside the odd expressions of Ludwigs, we may say that there is exhibited in a pre-eminent degree in the writings of Walloth, first, what the physicians call hyperæsthesia, and by this is meant not only an excessive sensitiveness of the senses but also—a condition that is connected with the last—an extraordinary intensity of the emotional activity. Secondly, are found numberless bold associations of ideas which are much better known to the physician than to the æsthetician.

Unfortunately Walloth is not the only one of the representatives of “young Germany,” in whose works the characters of disease appear in such intensity, and the circumstance that books of this class are bought in such numbers and read in still greater, places the tastes and sentiments of a large portion of the educated German public in a questionable light.

If we turn our glance away from the sensational phenomena of literature to the phenomena of ordinary life, which are not uncommonly enacted in the halls of justice, it is in first rank the incorrigible swindlers and sharpers that excite our attention. We have received on this subject from Dr. ANTON DELBRUECK, a physician of a Swiss insane asylum, an interesting little work bearing the title _Die pathologische Lüge und die psychisch abnormen Schwindler_, Stuttgart, 1891, Verlag von Ferdinand Enke. In this book the author makes an investigation of the gradual transition of a normal psychological process into processes exhibiting pathological symptoms, and shows, in so doing, by ample material, that in every kind of intentional deception the consciousness of intention can exhibit very different degrees of intensity and can imperceptibly sink in a succession of cases to zero. As a matter of course, Delbrück’s treatise is primarily of interest to medical experts and lawyers, but it will also be of interest in a secondary degree to all circles that devote their attention to psychological studies generally, particularly so to educators who have not infrequently to do with pathological lies, as G. Stanley Hall quite recently pointed out in a very instructive article in _The America Journal of Psychology_ on the lying of children, and as is developed in the work of Dr. Sollier, before mentioned in _The Monist_, entitled _La psychologie de l’idiot et l’imbécile_, which is also to be had in a very good German edition, translated by Paul Brie, under the title _Der Idiot und der Imbecille_, published by Leopold Voss of Hamburg.

In the German edition of Sollier’s book Professor Pelman, whom we have above mentioned, has written an introduction in which he speaks of the work in words of praise similar to those expressed by Lucien Arréat in _The Monist_. “Sollier,” says he, “has put us into the possession of a psychology of mental imbecility, in a completeness in which hitherto it was not at our disposal.” Then follows another passage which we will also quote, as it forms an important supplement to the remarks of Arréat. It is this: “Imbecility had remained the step-child of the science of psychiatry and has not by any means met with the consideration which in view of its social importance is due to it. If we go through the works, as great in number as they are in voluminousness, which have been published in the style of Lombroso on criminals and their peculiar characteristics, we shall be unable to escape the impression produced in our minds that the characteristics of imbeciles portrayed by Sollier recur point for point in the typical criminal. Here as there, the same insufficiency of all ethical development, the same frivolity, and the same incapacity for being of use in society exist. That which in Sollier’s explanation decides the whole anthropological position of the imbecile—his anti-social, society-hostile attitude—is emphasised by all writers as the characteristic trait common to all criminals, and the description of imbeciles and criminals coincides as completely in this respect as if the same individual had sat for both pictures. The conclusions that follow from this can only enlist new adherents in the ranks of the anthropological school, and this result also I should place to the profit-account of the present book.”

However profitable and necessary employment with the diseased states of the human soul may be, personally at least it is an unpleasant subject for us, and we are glad therefore that we may abandon this domain for the present letter.

The occasion of this is afforded by a valuable gift from Prof. W. PREYER, formerly of Jena, now of Berlin. Professor Preyer has presented us with a rather large volume bearing the title _Wissenschaftliche Briefe von Gustav Theodor Fechner und W. Preyer. Nebst einem Briefweschsel zwischen K. von Vierordt und Fechner sewie mehreren Beilagen. Mit dem Bildnisse Fechner’s und vier Holzschnitten_. Hamburg und Leipsic, 1890. Verlag von Leopold Voss. The work contains a correspondence extending from the year 1873 to the year 1883, in which the two distinguished scientists discuss (chiefly) myo-physical and psycho-physical questions, and will be of great interest to many readers of _The Monist_, especially as it makes its appearance simultaneously with the issuing of a new edition of Fechner’s _Elemente der Psychophysik_ by Wilhelm Wundt.

The much fought over and much disputed province of psycho-physics has also been entered on by a younger psychologist, who has already acquired a considerable name,—by Hugo Münsterberg, docent at the university of Freiburg in Baden. In his _Beiträge zur experimentellen Psychologie_, which are published in parts at indefinite periods by Mohr of Freiburg in Baden—three parts have already been published—Münsterberg raises, in the first place, a vigorous protest against Wundt; repudiating on the basis of the results of independent experiment the apperception hypothesis which has been propounded by the scientist mentioned, and producing proof that all kinds of so-called apperception are reducible to associations of the representative activity. Secondly, he offers us in the third part a new foundation on which to base psycho-physics. It is, of course, impossible, in so difficult a subject, to reproduce briefly yet clearly the developments to which Münsterberg devotes one hundred and twenty-two pages. But we will at least supply a few hints with regard to what this new foundation of psycho-physics is.

In the first place, Münsterberg rejects the notion that prevails with Fechner and his school, that a powerful sensation is a multiple of a weaker one, by which the first can be measured. The stronger sensation is, says he, in comparison with the weaker one something wholly new; for, accurately considered, the intensity of a sensation is also of a qualitative nature. However, we are not by any means at liberty to infer from this that the measurement of psychical quantities is impossible. To appreciate this, it is first requisite that we should get clear ideas with respect to the psychological foundation of our physical measurements. The only foundation of these last is our muscular feeling, to this extent, that all measurement is founded on the measurement of quantities of space, time, and mass, and any estimate of the latter is only possible on the basis of the muscular feeling that enters as a factor in the conceptions involved. All physical measurement rests on the establishment, and therefore reproduction, of _like_ muscular sensations; on exactly the same foundation rests also all measurement of psychical quantities, of intensities of sensation, and since this foundation is the same, for this very reason the same justification is due to the measurement of psychical intensity as is due to physical measurements. This is the foundation on which the psycho-physics of Münsterberg is raised, which for a fuller view must be studied in the third part of the “Beiträge” itself.

CHR. UFER.

Altenburg, November, 1891.

DIVERSE TOPICS.

THE CLERGY’S DUTY OF ALLEGIANCE TO DOGMA AND THE STRUGGLE BETWEEN WORLD-CONCEPTIONS.

A late number of the _Gegenwart_ of Berlin (Vol. xl, No. 30) contained an article by Mr. Eugene Schiffer, a German justice, on the subject “World-Conception and the Office of Judge,” in which attention was called to the fact that the performance of duties, not only in the pulpit but in all the professions, and preëminently in the dispensation of justice through the courts, depends upon and stands in a more or less close connection with some definite world-conception; thus showing that religion of some kind forms and must form the background of the practical life of society. He says:

“The Church demands of its disciples as an indispensable
condition of serving her the confession of a certain
world-conception; she requires that every one who intends to
take upon himself her rights and duties, should in his inmost
heart agree with her concerning the contents of her faith,
especially concerning the dogmas on eschatology, on God and
world, body and soul, the origin and end of things; and this
is but a matter of course, for the essential part and also the
foundation of her activity lie in these very doctrines and in
their propagation. It is a hard and a severe demand. Although
on the one hand the morally free fulfilment of her requests
contains the germ of an harmonious development of life and
promises an extraordinary concentration and elevation of all
faculties, it leads on the other hand to serious conflicts, of
which the pages of history not less than the experiences of our
daily life exhibit innumerable and sad instances. We recollect
the terrible spiritual struggles in the souls of those who
commenced to doubt, and the outcome is generally a pitiful
catastrophe, either submission and hypocrisy with the weak,
or tribulation, renunciation, and ruin with those who thought
higher of truth than of their worldly emoluments.

“Most of the other professions and trades know nothing of the
indispensability of a certain world-conception. The merchant,
the mechanic, the lawyer, the soldier, the teacher, the
laborer, can upon the whole think concerning these highest
problems of life as they please. An inner and ideal conflict
between their views and their calling seems definitely
excluded. Outer and practical conditions—such as administrative
injunctions of a certain kind, the aspiration of progress, the
ambition to be better off, etc.—may sometimes produce conflicts.

“Yet this character of indifference concerning a general
world-conception which is found in the secular professions and
trades does not bear the stamp of permanence. For ultimately
the entire doing and achieving of every thinking man, so far
as it rises above the mere vegetative functions, is intimately
connected with that common world-conception which everywhere
influences and guides him. This is unnoticeable so long as the
harmony of the connection remains undisturbed, but it manifests
itself in consciousness as soon as its harmony is threatened
through some important change of any of its parts. Even to-day
a deep-going change is preparing itself; even now the struggle
about the world-conception is fought more severely and more
bitterly than ever and a new doctrine goes far enough to
uncover the ultimate roots of our civilisation, of our position
in life, of our calling; it attacks and shakes the present
world-conception.

“This implies the possibility of a conflict between the old
and the new faith even outside the pale of the church, and
this conflict may influence the choice of a calling. This
possibility has become an imminent probability concerning the
office of judge, especially the judge of a criminal court.

“The dispensation of justice rests to a great extent upon the
presupposition of guilt and the criminal law of to-day is
almost throughout built upon this idea of guilt. It is true
that this view has not always been taken. The Greek law and
the old Germanic law interfered even in the gravest cases
exclusively on account of the objective state of things without
taking into consideration the criminal intent of the defendant.
But this view was superseded in the former case by the Roman,
in the latter by the canonical law, both requiring the
conception of a moral and a subjective guilt, and at present
the criminal law of every civilised nation (with the sole
exception of the Chinese who threaten with capital punishment
him who accidentally kills no less than the intentional
murderer) rests upon the foundation of a belief in guilt.

“But there is no room for guilt in the materialistic
world-conception. Everything that happens, the activity of the
human soul included is to be explained according to mechanical
principles and thus the view that man’s will is not free is
proposed as one of its fundamental doctrines. While in this
way there is no possibility left that a man might have acted
differently than he actually did, this view takes away his
responsibility. And this movement which either cancels or
weakens the momentum of guilt, has taken hold of the minds of
men far beyond the circle of decided materialists.

“The foundation of our criminal law stands or falls with the
idea of guilt. With it stands and falls also the office of
the judge, whose duty is the dispensation and utilisation of
justice. He who does not believe in the possibility of guilt
cannot without inconsistency pronounce any one guilty. He who
as a matter of principle or at least within certain not well
defined limits denies the freedom of the human will can no
longer serve as a judge, certainly not as a criminal judge.”

Justice Eugene Schiffer is a conservative man. He demands that for the protection of the old world-conception the office of judge should be carefully guarded against such intruders as are not in sympathy with the present world-conception. He says:

“Exactly as the church, in order to preserve herself and
to guard against her theology being diluted into a watery
philosophy of religion, is bound not to separate the conditions
of her life from a definite world-conception, so also justice,
in order to deserve its name, should oblige its servants to
take a definite position toward the ultimate world-problems....
He who does not accept in his conviction the moral foundations
of a certain calling, must not choose it, or if he has chosen
it, he must renounce it—or he must in his profession act
against his conviction—unless he risks being discharged from
his office on account of a neglect of duties.”

We agree with Justice Schiffer in one most important point, viz., the intimate connection of religion with practical life and of our world-conception with all our doing and achieving. But we differ from him in another no less important point, viz., in the proposition to prevent the present world-conception from undergoing a further growth and higher evolution. His proposition is nothing less than to make humanity and all its institutions stationary.

Everything that exists has a natural right to defend its existence, and so has the present world-conception. But that which grows and develops out of the conditions of the present existence has also a natural right to attain existence. The ideal world of the “is to be” is not a non-existence, as it might appear to the unknowing, but a germ existence, and if there is no room for both the actual existence of the present state and the germ existence of a new state, a struggle will ensue. There are at present and always have been many spurious world-conceptions which if they overcame the present world-conception would lead humanity backward to the beginning of civilisation. Indeed most propositions of reform are reversals which would undo the results of evolution and reduce mankind to primitive conditions. The fermenting minds of those who still hope to cure all the ills and woes of society by one stroke, have not yet outgrown the idea of the perfection, nobility, and happiness of the so-called original state of nature,

“When wild in woods the noble savage ran.”

Yet among all the plans of reform there is one which is correct, answering the wants of the time; and among all the world-conceptions which struggle to exist there is also one which is the legitimate outcome of the present world-conception. It is the present world-conception enlarged through additional experience and purified of certain errors. And it is an often repeated occurrence in history that the old and the new, father and son, have to fight with each other. The heir apparent either does not know that he is the child of his antagonist, or the latter the defendant of the present state does not know that he fights with his own son. This often repeated fact has found a mythological expression in the old Teutonic song of Hildebrand meeting in combat his son Hadubrand, a legend which in similar versions appears again in other Aryan sagas, the best known of which is the tale of Rustem’s struggle with Sohrab in Firdus’s great Iranian epic.

Can the struggle between the old and the new world-conception be avoided? No, it cannot and should not, for the new has to prove its legitimacy by showing its intrinsic strength; it must show that it has the power to exist. The struggle cannot be avoided, but the bitterness, the severity, the barbarity of the struggle can be avoided. Let Hildebrand and Hadubrand measure swords in a spiritual encounter, let the vanquished ideas yield to the stronger ideas, and they will prepare the gradual change of an evolution instead of the sudden rupture of a revolution.