Now, we make a mistake if we overlook th_An Introduction to Philosophy

thinker. The history of speculative thought has many times taken a

turn which can only be accounted for by taking into consideration the

genius for reflective thought possessed by some great mind. In the

crucible of such an intellect, old truths take on a new aspect,

familiar facts acquire a new and a richer meaning. But we also make a

mistake if we fail to see in the writings of such a man one of the

stages which has been reached in the gradual evolution of human

thought, if we fail to realize that each philosophy is to a great

extent the product of the past.

When one comes to understand these things, the history of philosophy no

longer presents itself as a mere agglomeration of arbitrary and

independent systems. And an attentive reading gives us a further key

to the interpretation of what seemed inexplicable. We find that there

may be distinct and different streams of thought, which, for a while,

run parallel without commingling their waters. For centuries the

Epicurean followed his own tradition, and walked in the footsteps of

his own master. The Stoic was of sterner stuff, and he chose to travel

another path. To this day there are adherents of the old church

philosophy, Neo-Scholastics, whose ways of thinking can only be

understood when we have some knowledge of Aristotle and of his

influence upon men during the Middle Ages. We ourselves may be

Kantians or Hegelians, and the man at our elbow may recognize as his

spiritual father Comte or Spencer.

It does not follow that, because one system follows another in

chronological order, it is its lineal descendant. But some ancestor a

system always has, and if we have the requisite learning and ingenuity,

we need not find it impossible to explain why this thinker or that was

influenced to give his thought the peculiar turn that characterizes it.

Sometimes many influences have conspired to attain the result, and it

is no small pleasure to address oneself to the task of disentangling

the threads which enter into the fabric.

Moreover, as we read thus with discrimination, we begin to see that the

great men of the past have not spoken without appearing to have

sufficient reason for their utterances in the light of the times in

which they lived. We may make it a rule that, when they seem to be

speaking arbitrarily, to be laying before us reasonings that are not

reasonings, dogmas for which no excuse seems to be offered, the fault

lies in our lack of comprehension. Until we can understand how a man,

living in a certain century, and breathing a certain moral and

intellectual atmosphere, could have said what he did, we should assume

that we have read his words, but not his real thought. For the latter

there is always a psychological, if not a logical, justification.

And this brings me to the question of the language in which the

philosophers have expressed their thoughts. The more attentively one

reads the history of philosophy, the clearer it becomes that the number

of problems with which the philosophers have occupied themselves is not

overwhelmingly great. If each philosophy which confronts us seems to

us quite new and strange, it is because we have not arrived at the

stage at which it is possible for us to recognize old friends with new

faces. The same old problems, the problems which must ever present

themselves to reflective thought, recur again and again. The form is

more or less changed, and the answers which are given to them are not,

of course, always the same. Each age expresses itself in a somewhat

different way. But sometimes the solution proposed for a given problem

is almost the same in substance, even when the two thinkers we are

contrasting belong to centuries which lie far apart. In this case,

only our own inability to strip off the husk and reach the fruit itself

prevents us from seeing that we have before us nothing really new.

Thus, if we read the history of philosophy with patience and with

discrimination, it grows luminous. We come to feel nearer to the men

of the past. We see that we may learn from their successes and from

their failures; and if we are capable of drawing a moral at all, we

apply the lesson to ourselves.

CHAPTER XXIV

SOME PRACTICAL ADMONITIONS

88. BE PREPARED TO ENTER UPON A NEW WAY OF LOOKING AT THINGS.--We have

seen that reflective thought tries to analyze experience and to attain

to a clear view of the elements that make it up--to realize vividly

what is the very texture of the known world, and what is the nature of

knowledge. It is possible to live to old age, as many do, without even

a suspicion that there may be such a knowledge as this, and

nevertheless to possess a large measure of rather vague but very

serviceable information about both minds and bodies.

It is something of a shock to learn that a multitude of questions may

be asked touching the most familiar things in our experience, and that

our comprehension of those things may be so vague that we grope in vain

for an answer. Space, time, matter, minds, realities,--with these

things we have to do every day. Can it be that we do not know what

they are? Then we must be blind, indeed. How shall we set about

enlightening our ignorance?

Not as we have enlightened our ignorance heretofore. We have added

fact to fact; but our task now is to gain a new light on all facts, to

see them from a different point of view; not so much to extend our

knowledge as to deepen it.

It seems scarcely necessary to point out that our world, when looked at

for the first time in this new way, may seem to be a new and strange

world. The real things of our experience may appear to melt away, to

be dissolved by reflection into mere shadows and unrealities. Well do

I remember the consternation with which, when almost a schoolboy, I

first made my acquaintance with John Stuart Mill's doctrine that the

things about us are "permanent possibilities of sensation." To Mill,

of course, chairs and tables were still chairs and tables, but to me

they became ghosts, inhabitants of a phantom world, to find oneself in

which was a matter of the gravest concern.

I suspect that this sense of the unreality of things comes often to

those who have entered upon the path of reflection, It may be a comfort

to such to realize that it is rather a thing to be expected. How can

one feel at home in a world which one has entered for the first time?

One cannot become a philosopher and remain exactly the man that one was

before. Men have tried to do it,--Thomas Reid is a notable instance

(section 50); but the result is that one simply does not become a

philosopher. It is not possible to gain a new and a deeper insight

into the nature of things, and yet to see things just as one saw them

before one attained to this.

If, then, we are willing to study philosophy at all, we must be willing

to embrace new views of the world, if there seem to be good reasons for

so doing. And if at first we suffer from a sense of bewilderment, we

must have patience, and must wait to see whether time and practice may

not do something toward removing our distress. It may be that we have

only half understood what has been revealed to us.

89. BE WILLING TO CONSIDER POSSIBILITIES WHICH AT FIRST STRIKE ONE AS

ABSURD.--It must be confessed that the philosophers have sometimes

brought forward doctrines which seem repellent to good sense, and

little in harmony with the experience of the world which we have all

our lives enjoyed. Shall we on this account turn our backs upon them

and refuse them an impartial hearing?

Thus, the idealist maintains that there is no existence save psychical

existence; that the material things about us are really mental things.

One of the forms taken by this doctrine is that alluded to above, that

things are permanent possibilities of sensation.

I think it can hardly be denied that this sounds out of harmony with

the common opinion of mankind. Men do not hesitate to distinguish

between minds and material things, nor do they believe that material

things exist only in minds. That dreams and hallucinations exist only

in minds they are very willing to admit; but they will not admit that

this is true of such things as real chairs and tables. And if we ask

them why they take such a position, they fall back upon what seems

given in experience.

Now, as the reader of the earlier chapters has seen, I think that the

plain man is more nearly right in his opinion touching the existence of

a world of non-mental things than is the idealistic philosopher. The

latter has seen a truth and misconceived it, thus losing some truth

that he had before he began to reflect. The former has not seen the

truth which has impressed the idealist, and he has held on to that

vague recognition that there are two orders of things given in our

experience, the physical and the mental, which seems to us so

unmistakable a fact until we fall into the hands of the philosophers.

But all this does not prove that we have a right simply to fall back

upon "common sense," and refuse to listen to the idealist. The

deliverances of unreflective common sense are vague in the extreme; and

though it may seem to assure us that there is a world of things

non-mental, its account of that world is confused and incoherent. He

who must depend on common sense alone can find no answer to the

idealists; he refuses to follow them, but he cannot refute them. He is

reduced to dogmatic denial.

This is in itself an uncomfortable position. And when we add to this

the reflection that such a man loses the truth which the idealist

emphasizes, the truth that the external world of which we speak must

be, if we are to know it at all, a world revealed to our senses, a

world given in our experience, we see that he who stops his ears

remains in ignorance. The fact is that the man who has never weighed

the evidence that impresses the idealist is not able to see clearly

what is meant by that external world in which we all incline to put

such faith. We may say that he _feels_ a truth blindly, but does not

see it.

Let us take another illustration. If there is one thing that we feel

to be as sure as the existence of the external world, it is that there

are other minds more or less resembling our own. The solipsist may try

to persuade us that the evidence for such minds is untrustworthy. We

may see no flaw in his argument, but he cannot convince us. May we

ignore him, and refuse to consider the matter at all?

Surely not, if we wish to substitute clear thinking for vague and

indefinite opinion. We should listen with attention, strive to

understand all the reasonings laid before us, and then, if they seem to

lead to conclusions really not in harmony with our experience, go

carefully over the ground and try to discover the flaw in them. It is

only by doing something like this that we can come to see clearly what

is meant when we speak of two or more minds and the relation between

them. The solipsist can help us, and we should let him do it.

We should, therefore, be willing to consider seriously all sorts of

doctrines which may at first strike us as unreasonable. I have chosen

two which I believe to contain error. But the man who approaches a

doctrine which impresses him as strange has no right to assume at the

outset that it contains error. We have seen again and again how easy

it is to misapprehend what is given in experience. The philosopher may

be in the right, and what he says may repel us because we have become

accustomed to certain erroneous notions, and they have come to seem

self-evident truths.

90. DO NOT HAVE TOO MUCH RESPECT FOR AUTHORITY.--But if it is an error

to refuse to listen to the philosopher, it is surely no less an error

to accord him an authority above what he has a right to demand. Bear

in mind what was said in the last chapter about the difference between

the special sciences and philosophy. There is in the latter field no

body of doctrine that we may justly regard as authoritative. There are

"schools" of philosophy, and their adherents fall into the very human

error of feeling very sure that they and those who agree with them are

right; and the emphasis with which they speak is apt to mislead those

who are not well informed. I shall say a few words about the dangers

of the "school."

If we look about us, we are impressed by the fact that there are

"schools" of philosophy, somewhat as there are religious sects and

political parties. An impressive teacher sets the mark of his

personality and of his preferences upon those who come under his

influence. They are not at an age to be very critical, and, indeed,

they have not as yet the requisite learning to enable them to be

critical. They keep the trend which has been given them early in life,

and, when they become teachers, they pass on the type of thought with

which they have been inoculated, and the circle widens. "Schools" may

arise, of course, in a different way. An epoch-making book may sweep

men off of their feet and make of them passionate adherents. But he

who has watched the development of the American universities during the

last twenty-five years must be impressed with the enormous influence

which certain teachers have had in giving a direction to the

philosophic thought of those who have come in contact with them. We

expect the pupils of a given master to have a given shade of opinion,

and very often we are not disappointed in our guess.

It is entirely natural that this should be so. Those who betake

themselves to the study of philosophy are men like other men. They

have the same feelings, and the bending of the twig has the same

significance in their case that it has in that of others. It is no

small compliment to a teacher that he can thus spread his influence,

and leave his proxies even when he passes away.

But, when we strive to "put off humanity" and to look at the whole

matter under the cold light of reason, we may well ask ourselves,

whether he who unconsciously accepts his philosophy, in whole or in

part, because it has been the philosophy of his teacher, is not doing

what is done by those persons whose politics and whose religion take

their color from such accidental circumstances as birth in a given

class or family traditions?

I am far from saying that it is, in general, a bad thing for the world

that men should be influenced in this way by one another. I say only

that, when we look at the facts of the case, we must admit that even

our teachers of philosophy do not always become representatives of the

peculiar type of thought for which they stand, merely through a

deliberate choice from the wealth of material which the history of

speculative thought lays before them. They are influenced by others to

take what they do take, and the traces of this influence are apt to

remain with them through life. He who wishes to be entirely impartial

must be on his guard against such influences as these, and must

distrust prejudices for or against certain doctrines, when he finds

that he imbibed them at an uncritical age and has remained under their

influence ever since. Some do appear to be able to emancipate

themselves, and to outgrow what they first learned.

It is, as I have said, natural that there should be a tendency to form

"schools" in philosophy. And there are certain things that make this

somewhat uncritical acceptance of a doctrine very attractive.

In the first place, if we are willing to take a system of any sort as a

whole, it saves us a vast amount of trouble. We seem to have a

citadel, a point of vantage from which we can look out upon life and

interpret it. If the house we live in is not in all respects ideal, at

least it is a house, and we are not homeless. There is nothing more

intolerable to most men than the having of no opinions. They will

change one opinion for another, but they will rarely consent to do

without altogether. It is something to have an answer to offer to

those who persist in asking questions; and it is something to have some

sort of ground under one's feet, even if it be not very solid ground.

Again. Man is a social creature, and he is greatly fortified in his

opinions by the consciousness that others share them with him. If we

become adherents of a "school," we have the agreeable consciousness

that we are not walking alone through the maze of speculations that

confronts those who reflect. There appears to be a traveled way in

which we may have some confidence. Are we not following the crowd, or,

at least, a goodly number of the pilgrims who are seeking the same goal

with ourselves? Under such circumstances we are not so often impelled

to inquire anxiously whether we are after all upon the right road. We

assume that we have made no mistake.

Under such circumstances we are apt to forget that there are many such

roads, and that these have been traveled in ages past by troops very

much like our own, who also cherished the hope that they were upon the

one and only highway. In other words, we are apt to forget the lesson

of the history of philosophy. This is a serious mistake.

And what intensifies our danger, if we belong to a school which happens

to be dominant and to have active representatives, is that we get very

little real criticism. The books that we write are usually criticised

by those who view our positions sympathetically, and who are more

inclined to praise than to blame. He who looks back upon the past is

struck with the fact that books which have been lauded to the skies in

one age have often been subjected to searching criticism and to a good

deal of condemnation in the next. Something very like this is to be

expected of books written in our own time. It is, however, a pity that

we should have to wait so long for impartial criticism.

This leads me to say a word of the reviews which fill our philosophical

journals, and which we must read, for it is impossible to read all the

books that come out, and yet we wish to know something about them.

To the novice it is something of a surprise to find that books by men

whom he knows to be eminent for their ingenuity and their learning are

condemned in very offhand fashion by quite young men, who as yet have

attained to little learning and to no eminence at all. One sometimes

is tempted to wonder that men admittedly remarkable should have

fathered such poor productions as we are given to understand them to

be, and should have offered them to a public that has a right to be

indignant.

Now, there can be no doubt that, in philosophy, a cat has the right to

look at a king, and has also a right to point out his misdoings, if

such there be. But it seems just to indicate that, in this matter,

certain cautions should be observed.

If a great man has been guilty of an error in reasoning, there is no

reason why it should not be pointed out by any one who is capable of

detecting it. The authority of the critic is a matter of no moment

where the evidence is given. In such a case, we take a suggestion and

we do the criticising for ourselves. But where the evidence is not

given, where the justice of the criticism is not proved, the case is

different. Here we must take into consideration the authority of the

critic, and, if we follow him at all, we must follow him blindly. Is

it safe to do this?

It is never safe in philosophy, or, at any rate, it is safe so seldom

that the exceptions are not worth taking into account. Men write from

the standpoint of some school of opinion; and, until we know their

prepossessions, their statements that this is good, that is bad, the

third thing is profound, are of no significance whatever. We should

simply set them aside, and try to find out from our reviewer what is

contained in the book under criticism.

One of the evils arising out of the bias I am discussing is, that books

and authors are praised or condemned indiscriminately because of their

point of view, and little discrimination is made between good books and

poor books. There is all the difference in the world between a work

which can be condemned only on the ground that it is realistic or

idealistic in its standpoint, and those feeble productions which are to

be condemned from every point of view. If we consistently carry out

the principle that we may condemn all those who are not of our party,

we must give short shrift to a majority of the great men of the past.

So I say, beware of authority in philosophy, and, above all, beware of

that most insidious form of authority, the spirit of the "school." It

cannot but narrow our sympathies and restrict our outlook.

91. REMEMBER THAT ORDINARY RULES OF EVIDENCE APPLY.--What I am going to

say in this section is closely related to what has been said just

above. To the disinterested observer it may seem rather amusing that

one should think it worth while to try to show that we have not the

right to use a special set of weights and measures when we are dealing

with things philosophical. There was a time when men held that a given

doctrine could be philosophically false, and, at the same time,

theologically true; but surely the day of such twists and turnings is

past!

I am by no means sure that it is past. With the lapse of time, old

doctrines take on new aspects, and come to be couched in a language

that suits the temper of the later age. Sometimes the doctrine is

veiled and rendered less startling, but remains essentially what it was

before, and may be criticised in much the same way.

I suppose we may say that every one who is animated by the party spirit

discussed above, and who holds to a group of philosophical tenets with

a warmth of conviction out of proportion to the authority of the actual

evidence which may be claimed for them, is tacitly assuming that the

truth or falsity of philosophical dogmas is not wholly a matter of

evidence, but that the desires of the philosopher may also be taken

into account.

This position is often taken unconsciously. Thus, when, instead of

proving to others that a given doctrine is false, we try to show them

that it is a dangerous doctrine, and leads to unpalatable consequences,

we assume that what seems distasteful cannot be true, and we count on

the fact that men incline to believe what they like to believe.

May we give this position the dignity of a philosophical doctrine and

hold that, in the somewhat nebulous realm inhabited by the philosopher,

men are not bound by the same rules of evidence that obtain elsewhere?

That this is actually done, those who read much in the field of modern

philosophy are well aware. Several excellent writers have maintained

that we need not, even if there seems to be evidence for them, accept

views of the universe which do not satisfy "our whole nature."

We should not confuse with this position the very different one which

maintains that we have a right to hold tentatively, and with a

willingness to abandon them should evidence against them be

forthcoming, views which we are not able completely to establish, but

which seem reasonable. One may do this with perfect sincerity, and

without holding that philosophical truth is in any way different from

scientific truth. But the other position goes beyond this; it assumes

that man must be satisfied, and that only that can be true which

satisfies him.

I ask, is it not significant that such an assumption should be made

only in the realm of the unverifiable? No man dreams of maintaining

that the rise and fall of stocks will be such as to satisfy the whole

nature even of the elect, or that the future history of man on this

planet is a thing to be determined by some philosopher who decides for

us what would or would not be desirable.

Surely all truths of election--those truths that we simply choose to

have true--are something much less august than that Truth of Evidence

which sometimes seems little to fall in with our desires, and in the

face of which we are humble listeners, not dictators. Before the

latter we are modest; we obey, lest we be confounded. And if, in the

philosophic realm, we believe that we may order Truth about, and make

her our slave, is it not because we have a secret consciousness that we

are not dealing with Truth at all, but with Opinion, and with Opinion

that has grown insolent because she cannot be drawn from her obscurity

and be shown to be what she is?

Sometimes it is suddenly revealed to a man that he has been accepting

two orders of truth. I once walked and talked with a good scholar who

discoursed of high themes and defended warmly certain theses. I said

to him: If you could go into the house opposite, and discover

unmistakably whether you are in the right or in the wrong,--discover it

as unmistakably as you can discover whether there is or is not

furniture in the drawing-room,--would you go? He thought over the

matter for a while, and then answered frankly; No! I should not go; I

should stay out here and argue it out.

92. AIM AT CLEARNESS AND SIMPLICITY.--There is no department of

investigation in which it is not desirable to cultivate clearness and

simplicity in thinking, speaking, and writing. But there are certain

reasons why we should be especially on our guard in philosophy against

the danger of employing a tongue "not understanded of the people."

There are dangerous pitfalls concealed under the use of technical words

and phrases.

The value of technical expressions in the special sciences must be

conceded. They are supposed to be more exact and less ambiguous than

terms in ordinary use, and they mark an advance in our knowledge of the

subject. The distinctions which they indicate have been carefully

drawn, and appear to be of such authority that they should be generally

accepted. Sometimes, as, for example, in mathematics, a conventional

set of symbols may quite usurp the function of ordinary language, and

may enormously curtail the labor of setting forth the processes and

results of investigation.

But we must never forget that we have not in philosophy an

authoritative body of truth which we have the right to impose upon all

who enter that field. A multitude of distinctions have been made and

are made; but the representatives of different schools of thought are

not at one touching the value and significance of these distinctions.

If we coin a word or a phrase to mark such, there is some danger that

we fall into the habit of using such words or phrases, as we use the

coins in our purse, without closely examining them, and with the ready

assumption that they must pass current everywhere.

Thus, there is always a possibility that our technical expressions may

be nothing less than crystallized error. Against this we should surely

be on our guard.

Again. When we translate the language of common life into the dialect

of the learned, there is danger that we may fall into the error of

supposing that we are adding to our knowledge, even though we are doing

nothing save to exchange one set of words for another. Thus, we all

know very well that one mind can communicate with another. One does

not have to be a scholar to be aware of this. If we choose to call

this "intersubjective intercourse," we have given the thing a sounding

name; but we know no more about it than we did before. The problem of

the relation between minds, and the way in which they are to be

conceived as influencing each other, remains just what it was. So,

also, we recognize the everyday fact that we know both ourselves and

what is not ourselves. Shall we call this knowledge of something not

ourselves "self-transcendence"? We may do so if we wish, but we ought

to realize that this bestowal of a title makes no whit clearer what is

meant by knowledge.

Unhappily, men too often believe that, when they have come into the

possession of a new word or phrase, they have gained a new thought.

The danger is great in proportion to the breadth of the gulf which

separates the new dialect from the old language of common life in which

we are accustomed to estimate things. Many a philosopher would be

bereft, indeed, were he robbed of his vocabulary and compelled to

express his thoughts in ordinary speech. The theories which are

implicit in certain recurring expressions would be forced to come out

into the open, and stand criticism without disguise.

But can one write philosophical books without using words which are not

in common use among the unphilosophic? I doubt it. Some such words it

seems impossible to avoid. However, it does seem possible to bear in

mind the dangers of a special philosophical terminology and to reduce

such words to a minimum.

Finally, we may appeal to the humanity of the philosopher. The path to

reflection is a sufficiently difficult one as it is; why should he roll

rocks upon it and compel those who come after him to climb over them?

If truths are no truer for being expressed in a repellent form, why

should he trick them out in a fantastic garb? What we want is the

naked truth, and we lose time and patience in freeing our mummy from

the wrappings in which learned men have seen fit to encase it.

93. DO NOT HASTILY ACCEPT A DOCTRINE.--This brings me to the last of

the maxims which I urge upon the attention of the reader. All that has

been said so far may be regarded as leading up to it.

The difficulty that confronts us is this: On the one hand, we must

recognize the uncertainty that reigns in this field of investigation.

We must ever weigh probabilities and possibilities; we do not find

ourselves in the presence of indubitable truths which all competent

persons stand ready to admit. This seems to argue that we should learn

to suspend judgment, and should be most wary in our acceptance of one

philosophical doctrine and our rejection of another.

On the other hand, philosophy is not a mere matter of intellectual

curiosity. It has an intimate connection with life. As a man thinks,

so is he, to a great extent, at least. How, then, can one afford to

remain critical and negative? To counsel this seems equivalent to

advising that one abandon the helm and consent to float at the mercy of

wind and tide.

The difficulty is a very real one. It presents itself insistently to

those who have attained to that degree of intellectual development at

which one begins to ask oneself questions and to reflect upon the worth

and meaning of life. An unreflective adherence to tradition no longer

satisfies such persons. They wish to know why they should believe in

this or that doctrine, and why they should rule their lives in harmony

with this or that maxim. Shall we advise them to lay hold without

delay of a set of philosophical tenets, as we might advise a disabled

man to aid himself with any staff that happens to come to hand? Or

shall we urge them to close their eyes to the light, and to go back

again to the old unreflective life?

Neither of these counsels seems satisfactory, for both assume tacitly

that it does not much matter what the _truth_ is, and that we can

afford to disregard it.

Perhaps we may take a suggestion from that prudent man and acute

philosopher, Descartes. Discontented with the teachings of the schools

as they had been presented to him, he resolved to set out upon an

independent voyage of discovery, and to look for a philosophy of his

own. It seemed necessary to him to doubt, provisionally at least, all

that he had received from the past. But in what house should he live

while he was reconstructing his old habitation? Without principles of

some sort he could not live, and without reasonable principles he could

not live well. So he framed a set of provisional rules, which should

guide his life until he had new ground beneath his feet.

When we examine these rules, we find that, on the whole, they are such

as the experience of mankind has found prudent and serviceable. In

other words, we discover that Descartes, until he was in a position to

see clearly for himself, was willing to be led by others. He was a

unit in the social order, and he recognized that truth.

It does not seem out of place to recall this fact to the consciousness

of those who are entering upon the reflective life. Those who are

rather new to reflection upon philosophical matters are apt to seize

single truths, which are too often half-truths, and to deduce their

consequences remorselessly. They do not always realize the extreme

complexity of society, or see the full meaning of the relations in

which they stand to the state and to the church. Breadth of view can

only come with an increase of knowledge and with the exercise of

reflection.

For this reason I advise patience, and a willingness to accept the

established order of things until one is very sure that one has

attained to some truth--some real truth, not a mere truth of

election--which may serve as the basis of a reconstruction. The first

glimpses of truth cannot be depended upon to furnish such a foundation.

Thus, we may suspend judgment, and, nevertheless, be ready to act. But

is not this a mere compromise? Certainly. All life is a compromise;

and in the present instance it means only that we should keep our eyes

open to the light, whatever its source, and yet should nourish that

wholesome self-distrust that prevents a man from being an erratic and

revolutionary creature, unmindful of his own limitations. Prudent men

in all walks in life make this compromise, and the world is the better

for it.

NOTES

CHAPTER I, sections 1-5. If the student will take a good history of

philosophy, and look over the accounts of the different systems

referred to, he will see the justice of the position taken in the text,

namely, that philosophy was formerly synonymous with universal

knowledge. It is not necessary, of course, to read the whole history

of philosophy to attain this end. One may take such a text-book as

Ueberweg's "History of Philosophy," and run over the summaries

contained in the large print. To see how the conception of what

constitutes universal knowledge changed in successive ages, compare

Thales, the Sophists, Aristotle, the Schoolmen, Bacon, and Descartes.

For the ancient philosophy one may consult Windelband's "History of the

Ancient Philosophy," a clear and entertaining little work (English

translation, N.Y., 1899).

In Professor Paulsen's "Introduction to Philosophy" (English

translation, N.Y., 1895), there is an interesting introductory chapter

on "The Nature and Import of Philosophy" (pp. 1-41). The author pleads

for the old notion of philosophy as universal knowledge, though he does

not, of course, mean that the philosopher must be familiar with all the

details of all the sciences.

Section 6. In justification of the meaning given to the word

"philosophy" in this section, I ask the reader to look over the list of

courses in philosophy advertised in the catalogues of our leading

universities at home and abroad. There is a certain consensus of

opinion as to what properly comes under the title, even among those who

differ widely as to what is the proper definition of philosophy.

CHAPTER II, sections 7-10. Read the chapter on "The Mind and the World

in Common Thought and in Science" (Chapter I) in my "System of

Metaphysics," N.Y., 1904.

One can be brought to a vivid realization of the fact that the sciences

proceed upon a basis of assumptions which they do not attempt to

analyze and justify, if one will take some elementary work on

arithmetic or geometry or psychology and examine the first few

chapters, bearing in mind what philosophical problems may be drawn from

the materials there treated. Section 11. The task of reflective

thought and its difficulties are treated in the chapter entitled "How

Things are Given in Consciousness" (Chapter III), in my "System of

Metaphysics."

CHAPTER III, sections 12-13. Read "The Inadequacy of the Psychological

Standpoint," "System of Metaphysics," Chapter II. I call especial

attention to the illustration of "the man in the cell" (pp. 18 ff.).

It would be a good thing to read these pages with the class, and to

impress upon the students the fact that those who have doubted or

denied the existence of the external material world have, if they have

fallen into error, fallen into a very natural error, and are not

without some excuse.

Section 14. See "The Metaphysics of the Telephone Exchange," "System

of Metaphysics," Chapter XXII, where Professor Pearson's doctrine is

examined at length, with quotations and references.

It is interesting to notice that a doubt of the external world has

always rested upon some sort of a "telephone exchange" argument;

naturally, it could not pass by that name before the invention of the

telephone, but the reasoning is the same. It puts the world at one

remove, shutting the mind up to the circle of its ideas; and then it

doubts or denies the world, or, at least, holds that its existence must

be proved in some roundabout way. Compare Descartes, "Of the Existence

of Material Things," "Meditations," VI.

CHAPTER IV, sections 15-18. See Chapters VI and VII, "What we mean by

the External World," and "Sensations and 'Things,'" in my "System of

Metaphysics." In that work the discussion of the distinction between

the objective order of experience and the subjective order is completed

in Chapter XXIII, "The Distinction between the World and the Mind."

This was done that the subjective order might be treated in the part of

the book which discusses the mind and its relation to matter.

As it is possible that the reader may be puzzled by differences of

expression which obtain in the two books, a word of explanation is not

out of place.

In the "Metaphysics," for example, it is said that sensations so

connect themselves together as to form what we call the system of

material things (p. 105). It is intimated in a footnote that this is a

provisional statement and the reader is referred to later chapters.

Now, in the present book (sections 16-17), it is taught that we may not

call material things groups of sensations.

The apparent contradiction is due to the fact that, in this volume, the

full meaning of the word "sensation" is exhibited at the outset, and

sensations, as phenomena of the subjective order, are distinguished

from the phenomena of the objective order which constitute the external

world. In the earlier work the word "sensation" was for a while used

loosely to cover all our experiences that do not belong to the class

called imaginary, and the distinction between the subjective and

objective in this realm was drawn later (Chapter XXIII).

I think the present arrangement is the better one, as it avoids from

the outset the suggestion that the real world is something

subjective--our sensations or ideas--and thus escapes the idealistic

flavor which almost inevitably attaches to the other treatment, until

the discussion is completed, at least.

CHAPTER V, sections 10-21. See Chapters VIII and IX, "System of

Metaphysics," "The Distinction between Appearance and Reality" and "The

Significance of the Distinction."

Section 22. See Chapter XXVI, "The World as Unperceived, and the

'Unknowable,'" where Spencer's doctrine is examined at length, and

references are given. I think it is very important that the student

should realize that the "Unknowable" is a perfectly useless assumption

in philosophy, and can serve no purpose whatever.

CHAPTER VI, sections 23-25. See Chapters X and XI, "System of

Metaphysics," "The Kantian Doctrine of Space" and "Difficulties

connected with the Kantian Doctrine of Space."

It would be an excellent thing for the student, after he has read the

above chapters, to take up Kant's "Critique of Pure Reason," and read

and analyze the argument of Antinomies I and II, with the Observations

appended. One can understand these arguments without being familiar

with the "Critique" as a whole; at any rate, the account of Kant's

philosophy contained in section 51 of this book will serve to explain

his use of certain terms, such as "the laws of our sensibility."

Kant's reasonings are very curious and interesting in this part of his

book. It seems to be proved that the world must be endless in space

and without a beginning or end in time, and just as plausibly proved

that it cannot be either. It seems to be proved that finite spaces and

times are infinitely divisible, and at the same time that they cannot

be infinitely divisible. The situation is an amusing one, and rendered

not the less amusing by the seriousness with which the mutually

destructive arguments are taken.

When the student meets such a tangle in the writings of any

philosopher, I ask him to believe that it is not the human reason that

is at fault--at least, let him not assume that it is. The fault

probably lies with a human reason.

Section 26. See Chapter XII, "The Berkeleian Doctrine of Space," in my

"System of Metaphysics." The argument ought not to be difficult to one

who has mastered Chapter V of this volume.

CHAPTER VII, sections 27-29. Compare Chapter XIII, "System of

Metaphysics," "Of Time."

With the chapters on Space and Time it would be well for the student to

read Chapter XIV, "The Real World in Space and Time," where it is made

clear why we have no hesitation in declaring space and time to be

infinite, although we recognize that it seems to be an assumption of

knowledge to declare the material world infinite.

CHAPTER VIII, sections 30-32. Read, in the "System of Metaphysics,"

Chapters V and XVII, "The Self or Knower" and "The Atomic Self."

Section 33. The suggestions, touching the attitude of the psychologist

toward the mind, contained in the preface to Professor William James's

"Psychology" are very interesting and instructive.

CHAPTER IX, sections 35-36. For a strong argument in favor of

interactionism see James's "Psychology," Chapter V. I wish the student

would, in reading it, bear in mind what is said in my chapter on "The

Atomic Self," above referred to. The subject should be approached with

an open mind, and one should suspend judgment until both sides have

been heard from.

Section 37. Descartes held that the lower animals are automata and

that their actions are not indicative of consciousness; he regarded

their bodies as machines lacking the soul in the "little pineal gland."

Professor Huxley revived the doctrine of animal automatism and extended

it so as to include man. He regarded consciousness as a "collateral

product" of the working of the body, related to it somewhat as is the

steam-whistle of a locomotive engine to the working of the machine. He

made it an effect, but not a cause, of motions. See "System of

Metaphysics," Chapter XVIII, "The Automaton Theory: its Genesis."

We owe the doctrine of parallelism, in its original form, to Spinoza.

It was elaborated by W. K. Clifford, and to him the modern interest in

the subject is largely due. The whole subject is discussed at length

in my "System of Metaphysics," Chapters XIX-XXI. The titles are: "The

Automaton Theory: Parallelism," "What is Parallelism?" and "The Man and

the Candlestick." Clifford's doctrine is presented in a new form in

Professor Strong's recent brilliant work, "Why the Mind has a Body"

N.Y., 1903.

Section 38. See "System of Metaphysics," Chapter XXIV, "The Time and

Place of Sensations and Ideas."

CHAPTER X, sections 40-42. See "System of Metaphysics," Chapters XXVII

and XXVIII, "The Existence of Other Minds," and "The Distribution of

Minds."

Writers seem to be divided into three camps on this question of other

minds.

(1) I have treated our knowledge of other minds as due to an inference.

This is the position usually taken.

(2) We have seen that Huxley and Clifford cast doubts upon the validity

of the inference, but, nevertheless, made it. Professor Strong, in the

work mentioned in the notes to the previous chapter, maintains that it

is not an inference, and that we do not directly perceive other minds,

but that we are assured of their existence just the same. He makes our

knowledge an "intuition" in the old-fashioned sense of the word, a

something to be accepted but not to be accounted for.

(3) Writers who have been influenced more or less by the Neo-Kantian or

Neo-Hegelian doctrine are apt to speak as though we had the same direct

evidence of the existence of other minds that we have of the existence

of our own. I have never seen a systematic and detailed exposition of

this doctrine. It appears rather in the form of hints dropped in

passing. A number of such are to be found in Taylor's "Elements of

Metaphysics."

Section 43. The "Mind-stuff" doctrine is examined at length and its

origin discussed in Chapter XXXI of the "System of Metaphysics,"

"Mental Phenomena and the Causal Nexus." It is well worth while for

the student to read the whole of Clifford's essay "On the Nature of

Things-in-themselves," even if he is pressed for time.

CHAPTER XI, section 44. See "System of Metaphysics," Chapter XV, "The

World as Mechanism."

Section 45. See Chapter XXXI, "The Place of Mind in Nature."

Section 46. For a definition of Fatalism, and a description of its

difference from the scientific doctrine of Determinism, see Chapter

XXXIII, "Fatalism, 'Freewill' and Determinism." For a vigorous defense

of "Freewill" (which is not, in my opinion, free will at all, in the

common acceptation of the word) see Professor James's Essay on "The

Dilemma of the Determinist," in his volume, "The Will to Believe."

Fatalism and Determinism are constantly confused, and much of the

opposition to Determinism is attributable to this confusion.

Section 47. See Chapter XXXII, "Mechanism and Teleology."

CHAPTER XII, section 48. The notes to Chapter III (see above) are in

point here. It is well worth the student's while to read the whole of

Chapter XI, Book IV, of Locke's "Essay." It is entitled "Of our

Knowledge of the Existence of Other Things." Notice the headings of

some of his sections:--

Section 1. "It is to be had only by sensation."

Section 2. "Instance whiteness of this paper."

Section 3. "This, though not so certain as demonstration, yet may be

called 'Knowledge,' and proves the existence of things without us."

Locke's argument proceeds, as we have seen, on the assumption that we

perceive external things directly,--an assumption into which he slips

unawares,--and yet he cannot allow that we really do perceive directly

what is external. This makes him uncomfortably conscious that he has

not absolute proof, after all. The section that closes the discussion

is entitled: "Folly to expect demonstration in everything."

Section 49. I wish that I could believe that every one of my readers

would sometime give himself the pleasure of reading through Berkeley's

"Principles of Human Knowledge" and his "Three Dialogues between Hylas

and Philonous." Clearness of thought, beauty of style, and elevation

of sentiment characterize them throughout.

The "Principles" is a systematic treatise. If one has not time to read

it all, one can get a good idea of the doctrine by running through the

first forty-one sections. For brief readings in class, to illustrate

Berkeley's reasoning, one may take sections 1-3, 14, 18-20, and 38.

The "Dialogues" is a more popular work. As the etymology of the names

in the title suggests, we have in it a dispute between a man who pins

his faith to matter and an idealist. The aim of the book is to confute

skeptics and atheists from the standpoint of idealism.

For Hume's treatment of the external world, see his "Treatise of Human

Nature," Part IV, section 2. For his treatment of the mind, see Part

IV, section 6.

Section 50. Reid repeats himself a great deal, for he gives us

asseveration rather than proof. One can get the gist of his argument

by reading carefully a few of his sections. It would be a good

exercise to read in class, if time permitted, the two sections of his

"Inquiry" entitled "Of Extension" (Chapter V, section 5), and "Of

Perception in General" (Chapter VI, section 20).

Section 51. For an account of the critical Philosophy, see

Falckenberg's "History of Modern Philosophy" (English translation,

N.Y., 1893). Compare with this the accounts in the histories of

philosophy by Ueberweg and Höffding (English translation of the latter,

London, 1900). Full bibliographies are to be found especially in

Ueberweg.

It is well to look at the philosophy of Kant through more than one pair

of eyes. Thus, if one reads Morris's "Kant's Critique of Pure Reason"

(Chicago, 1882), one should read also Sidgwick's "Lectures on the

Philosophy of Kant" (N.Y., 1905).

CHAPTER XIII, section 52. It is difficult to see how Hamilton could

regard himself as a "natural" realist (the word is employed by him).

See his "Lectures on Metaphysics," VIII, where he develops his

doctrine. He seems to teach, in spite of himself, that we can know

directly only the impressions that things make on us, and must infer

all else: "Our whole knowledge of mind and matter is, thus, only

relative; of existence, absolutely and in itself, we know nothing."

Whom may we regard as representing the three kinds of "hypothetical

realism" described in the text? Perhaps we may put the plain man, who

has not begun to reflect, in the first class. John Locke is a good

representative of the second; see the "Essay concerning Human

Understanding," Book II, Chapter VIII. Herbert Spencer belonged to the

third while he wrote Chapter V of his "First Principles of Philosophy."

Section 53. I have said enough of the Berkeleian idealism in the notes

on Chapter XII. As a good illustration of objective idealism in one of

its forms I may take the doctrine of Professor Royce; see his address,

"The Conception of God" (N.Y., 1902).

Mr. Bradley's doctrine is criticised in Chapter XXXIV (entitled "Of

God"), "System of Metaphysics."

CHAPTER XIV, section 55. See "System of Metaphysics," Chapter XVI,

"The Insufficiency of Materialism."

Section 56. Professor Strong's volume, "Why the Mind has a Body"

(N.Y., 1903), advocates a panpsychism much like that of Clifford. It

is very clearly written, and with Clifford's essay on "The Nature of

Things-in-themselves," ought to give one a good idea of the

considerations that impel some able men to become panpsychists.

Section 57. The pantheistic monism of Spinoza is of such importance

historically that it is desirable to obtain a clear notion of its

meaning. I have discussed this at length in two earlier works: "The

Philosophy of Spinoza" (N.Y., 1894) and "On Spinozistic Immortality."

The student is referred to the account of Spinoza's "God or Substance"

contained in these. See, especially, the "Introductory Note" in the

back of the first-mentioned volume.

Professor Royce is a good illustration of the idealistic monist; see

the volume referred to in the note above (section 53). His "Absolute,"

or God, is conceived to be an all-inclusive mind of which our finite

minds are parts.

Section 58. Sir William Hamilton's dualism is developed in his

"Lectures on Metaphysics," VIII. He writes: "Mind and matter, as known

or knowable, are only two different series of phenomena or qualities;

as unknown and unknowable, they are the two substances in which these

two different series of phenomena or qualities are supposed to inhere.

The existence of an unknown substance is only an inference we are

compelled to make, from the existence of known phenomena; and the

distinction of two substances is only inferred from the seeming

incompatibility of the two series of phenomena to coinhere in one."

CHAPTER XV, section 60. The reader will find Descartes's path traced

in the "Meditations." In I, we have his sweeping doubt; in II, his

doctrine as to the mind; in III, the existence of God is established;

in VI, he gets around to the existence of the external world. We find

a good deal of the "natural light" in the first part of his "Principles

of Philosophy."

Section 61. We have an excellent illustration of Locke's inconsistency

in violating his own principles and going beyond experience, in his

treatment of "Substance." Read, in his "Essay," Book I, Chapter IV,

section 18, and Book II, Chapter XXIII, section 4. These sections are

not long, and might well be read and analyzed in class.

Section 62. See the note to section 51.

Section 64. I write this note (in 1908) to give the reader some idea

of later developments of the doctrine called pragmatism. There has

been a vast amount printed upon the subject in the last two or three

years, but I am not able to say even yet that we have to do with "a

clear-cut doctrine, the limits and consequences of which have been

worked out in detail." Hence, I prefer to leave section 64 as I first

wrote it, merely supplementing it here.

We may fairly consider the three leaders of the pragmatic movement to

be Professor William James, Dr. F. C. S. Schiller, and Professor John

Dewey. The first has developed his doctrine at length in his volume

entitled "Pragmatism" (London, 1907); the second, who calls his

doctrine "Humanism," but declares himself a pragmatist, and in

essential agreement with Professor James, has published two volumes of

philosophical essays entitled "Humanism" (London, 1903) and "Studies in

Humanism" (London, 1907); the third has developed his position in the

first four chapters of the "Studies in Logical Theory" (Chicago, 1903).

Professor James, in his "Pragmatism" (Lecture II), says that

pragmatism, at the outset, at least, stands for no particular results.

It has no dogmas, and no doctrines save its method. This method means:

"The attitude of looking away from first things, principles,

'categories,' supposed necessities; and of looking towards last things,

fruits, consequences, facts." He remarks further, however, that

pragmatism has come to be used also in a wider sense, as signifying a

certain theory of truth (pp. 54-55). This theory is brought forward in

Lecture VI.

The theory maintains that: "True ideas are those that we can

assimilate, validate, corroborate, and verify. False ideas are those

that we can not" (p. 201). This sounds as though Professor James

abandoned his doctrine touching the Turk and the Christian mentioned in

section 64.

But what do the words "verification" and "validation" pragmatically

mean? We are told that they signify certain practical consequences of

the verified and validated idea. Our ideas may be said to "agree" with

reality when they lead us, through acts and other ideas which they

instigate, up to or towards other parts of experience with which we

feel that the original ideas remain in agreement. "The connections and

transitions come to us from point to point as being progressive,

harmonious, satisfactory. This function of agreeable leading is what

we mean by an idea's verification" (p. 202).

Thus, we do not seem to be concerned with verification in the sense in

which the word has usually been employed heretofore. The tendency to

take as true what is useful or serviceable has not been abandoned.

That Professor James does not really leave his Turk in the lurch

becomes clear to any one who will read his book attentively and note

his reasons for taking the various pragmatic attitudes which he does

take. See, for example, his pragmatic argument for "free-will." The

doctrine is simply assumed as a doctrine of "relief" (pp. 110-121).

Briefly stated, Dr. Schiller's doctrine is that truths are man-made,

and that it is right for man to consult his desires in making them. It

is in substantial harmony with the pragmatism of Professor James, and I

shall not dwell upon it. Dr. Schiller's essays are very entertainingly

written.

Professor Dewey's pragmatism seems to me sufficiently different from

the above to merit another title. In the "Journal of Philosophy,

Psychology, and Scientific Methods," Volume IV, No. 4, Professor Dewey

brings out the distinction between his own position and that of

Professor James.

To the periodical literature on pragmatism I cannot refer in detail.

Professor James defends his position against misconceptions in the

"Philosophical Review," Volume XVII, No. 1. See, on the other side,

Professor Perry, in the "Journal of Philosophy, Psychology, and

Scientific Methods," Volume IV, pp. 365 and 421; Professor Hibben,

"Philosophical Review," XVII, 4; and Dr. Carus, "The Monist," July,

1908.

CHAPTER XVI, sections 65-68. To see how the logicians have regarded

their science and its relation to philosophy, see; Keynes's "Formal

Logic" (London, 1894), Introduction; Hobhouse's "Theory of Knowledge"

(London, 1896), Introduction; Aikins's "The Principles of Logic" (N.Y.,

1902), Introduction; and Creighton's "Introductory Logic" (N.Y., 1898),

Preface.

Professor Aikins writes: "Thus, in so far as logic tries to make us

reason correctly by giving us correct conceptions of things and the way

in which their relations involve each other, it is a kind of simple

metaphysics studied for a practical end."

Professor Creighton says, "Although in treating the syllogistic logic I

have followed to a large extent the ordinary mode of presentation, I

have both here, and when dealing with the inductive methods, endeavored

to interpret the traditional doctrines in a philosophical way, and to

prepare for the theoretical discussions of the third part of the book."

John Stuart Mill tried not to be metaphysical; but let the reader

examine, say, his third chapter, "Of the Things denoted by Names," or

look over Book VI, in his "System of Logic."

Professor Sigwart's great work, "Logik" (Freiburg, 2d edition, Volume

I, 1889, Volume II, 1893), may almost be called a philosophy of logic.

CHAPTER XVII, section 69. Compare with Professor James's account of

the scope of psychology the following from Professor Baldwin: "The

question of the relation of psychology to metaphysics, over which a

fierce warfare has been waged in recent years, is now fairly settled by

the adjustment of mutual claims. . . . The terms of the adjustment of

which I speak are briefly these: on the one hand, empirical

investigation must precede rational interpretation, and this empirical

investigation must be absolutely unhampered by fetters of dogmatism and

preconception; on the other hand, rational interpretation must be

equally free in its own province, since progress from the individual to

the general, from the detached fact to its universal meaning, can be

secured only by the judicious use of hypotheses, both metaphysical and

speculative. Starting from the empirical we run out at every step into

the metempirical." "Handbook of Psychology," Preface, pp. iii and iv.

CHAPTER XVIII, section 71. The teacher might very profitably take

extracts from the two chapters of Whewell's "Elements of Morality"

referred to in the text, and read them with the class. It is

significant of the weakness of Whewell's position that he can give us

advice as long as we do not need it, but, when we come to the

cross-roads, he is compelled to leave the matter to the individual

conscience, and gives us no hint of a general principle that may guide

us.

Section 72. Wundt, in his volume "The Facts of the Moral Life" (N.Y.,

1897), tries to develop an empirical science of ethics independent of

metaphysics; see the Preface.

Compare with this: Martineau's "Types of Ethical Theory" (London,

1885), Preface; T. H. Green's "Prolegomena to Ethics," Introduction;

Muirhead's "The Elements of Ethics" (N.Y., 1892); Mackenzie's "A Manual

of Ethics" (London, 1893); Jodl's "Gesduchte der Ethik" (Stuttgart,

1882), Preface. I give but a few references, but they will serve to

illustrate how close, in the opinion of ethical writers, is the

relation between ethics and philosophy.

CHAPTER XIX, section 74. The student who turns over the pages of

several works on metaphysics may be misled by a certain superficial

similarity that is apt to obtain among them. One sees the field mapped

out into Ontology (the science of Being or Reality), Rational

Cosmology, and Rational Psychology. These titles are mediaeval

landmarks which have been left standing. I may as well warn the reader

that two men who discourse of Ontology may not be talking about the

same thing at all. Bear in mind what was said in section 57 of the

different ways of conceiving the "One Substance"; and bear in mind also

what was said in Chapter V of the proper meaning of the word "reality."

I have discarded the above titles in my "System of Metaphysics,"

because I think it is better and less misleading to use plain and

unambiguous language.

Section 75. See the note to Chapter XVI.

CHAPTER XX, sections 76-77. One can get an idea of the problems with

which the philosophy of religion has to deal by turning to my "System

of Metaphysics" and reading the two chapters entitled "Of God," at the

close of the book. It would be interesting to read and criticise in

class some of the theistic arguments that philosophers have brought

forward. Quotations and references are given in Chapter XXXIV.

CHAPTER XXI, sections 78-79. What is said of the science of logic, in

Chapter XVI, has, of course, a bearing upon these sections. I suggest

that the student examine a few chapters of "The Grammar of Science";

the book is very readable.

CHAPTER XXII, sections 80-82. The reader will find in lectures I and

II in Sir William Hamilton's "Lectures on Metaphysics" a discussion of

the utility of philosophy. It has a pleasant, old-fashioned flavor,

and contains some good thoughts. What is said in Chapters XVI-XXI of

the present volume has a good deal of bearing upon the subject. See

especially what is said in the chapters on logic, ethics, and the

philosophy of religion.

CHAPTER XXIII, sections 83-87. There is a rather brief but good and

thoughtful discussion of the importance of historical study to the

comprehension of philosophical doctrines in Falckenberg's "History of

Modern Philosophy" (English translation, N.Y., 1893); see the

Introduction.

We have a good illustration of the fact that there may be parallel

streams of philosophic thought (section 87) when we turn to the Stoics

and the Epicureans. Zeno and Epicurus were contemporaries, but they

were men of very dissimilar character, and the schools they founded

differed widely in spirit. Zeno went back for his view of the physical

world to Heraclitus, and for his ethics to the Cynics. Epicurus

borrowed his fundamental thoughts from Democritus.

On the other hand, philosophers may sometimes be regarded as links in

the one chain. Witness the series of German thinkers: Kant, Fichte,

Schelling, Hegel, Schopenhauer; or the series of British thinkers:

Locke, Berkeley, Hume, Mill. Herbert Spencer represents a confluence

of the streams. The spirit of his doctrine is predominantly British;

but he got his "Unknowable" from Kant, through Hamilton and Mansel.

At any point in a given stream there may be a division. Thus, Kant was

awakened to his creative effort by Hume. But Mill is also the

successor of Hume, and more truly the successor, for he carries on the

traditional way of approaching philosophical problems, while Kant

rebels against it, and heads a new line.

CHAPTER XXIV, sections 88-93. I hardly think it is necessary for me to

comment upon this chapter. The recommendations amount to this: that a

man should be fair-minded and reasonable, free from partisanship,

cautious, and able to suspend judgment where the evidence is not clear;

also that where the light of reason does not seem to him to shine

brightly and to illumine his path as he could wish, he should be

influenced in his actions by the reflection that he has his place in

the social order, and must meet the obligations laid upon him by this

fact. When the pragmatist emphasizes the necessity of accepting ideals

and living by them, he is doing us a service. But we must see to it

that he does not lead us into making arbitrary decisions and feeling

that we are released from the duty of seeking for evidence. Read

together sections 64, 91, and 93.

INDEX

Absolute, The: Spencer's doctrine of, 70;

Bradley's, 191-192;

meanings of the word, 201;

reference, 312.

Activity and Passivity: meaning of, 159-161;

confused with cause and effect, 159-161;

activity of mind, 162-163.

Aesthetics: a philosophical discipline, 242-243.

Agnosticism: 202.

Aikins: 314.

Albert the Great: scope of his labors, 9.

Analytical Judgments: defined, 178.

Anaxagoras: his doctrine, 4; on the soul, 101.

Anaximander: his doctrine, 3.

Anaximenes: his doctrine, 3; on the soul, 101.

Appearances: doubt of their objectivity, 35;

realities and, 59 ff.;

apparent and real space, 80-87;

apparent and real time, 93-99;

apparent and real extension, 113;

measurement of apparent time, 128;

appearance and reality, Bradley's doctrine, 191-192.

Aristotle: reference to Thales, 3;

scope of his philosophy, 7;

authority in the Middle Ages, 9;

on the soul, 102-103.

Arithmetic: compared with logic, 225-226.

Atoms: nature of our knowledge of, 22-23; also, 65-67;

doctrine of Democritus, 194-195.

Augustine: on time as past, present, and future, 90 ff.;

on soul and body, 104;

as scientist and as philosopher, 278.

Authority: in philosophy, 291-296.

Automatism: the automaton theory, 129-130;

animal automatism, 141-142;

activity of mind and automatism, 162;

references, 308-309.

Automaton: see Automatism.

Bacon, Francis: his conception of philosophy, 10.

Baldwin: on psychology and metaphysics, 314.

Berkeley: referred to, 56;

on appearance and reality, 61-63;

his idealism, 168-170;

his theism, 190-191;

references to his works, 310.

Body and Mind: see Mind and Body.

Bosanquet: his logic, 235.

Bradley: his "Absolute," 191-192; reference given, 311.

Breath: mind conceived to be, 101.

Cassiodorus: on soul and body, 103-104.

Cause and Effect; meaning of words, 118-120;

relation of mental and material not causal, 121-126;

Now, we make a mistake if we overlook the genius of the individual