F. C. S. SCHILLER
A BRITISH PRAGMATIST
The world knows nothing of its greatest men, because by the
time it knows something about them they have ceased to be
the greatest. F. C. S. Schiller.
A dozen years ago I happened upon the word "pragmatism", as it was
printed, rather inappropriately,[1] upon the slip cover of Santayana's
"Life of Reason." Being a queer looking word and unknown to me, I
started to find out what it meant and that led me on a long chase. The
farther I went the more interested I became, for I soon discovered
that I had been a pragmatist all my life without knowing it. I
was as delighted as M. Jourdain when he was told that he had been
unconsciously talking prose all his life. I felt as relieved as
Huxley when he invented "agnostic" as a tag for himself.
I had come by my pragmatism honestly enough, for I had got my training
as a journalist through the study of chemistry, and in science the
pragmatic mode of thinking is universal and unquestioned. So when I
went to writing about other things,--politics, law, ethics, history,
religion, and the like,--I naturally used my brains in the same way
as in science, that is, I persisted in the valuation of all acts by
their consequences instead of their causes and in the validation of
all truths by practicality instead of precedent. But when I found
how this way of thinking shocked, annoyed, or amused people I began
to fear that I should have to drop it as I had other evidences of my
buried past, such as the habit of using words like "catalysis" and
"parachlorbenzamidine" in casual conversation.
But when I heard of the pragmatists I knew that I was no longer alone
in the world. There were others, it seemed, even men of standing in
philosophical circles, whose minds ran in this way and who were not
ashamed to own it. I got their names and started to find them wherever
they might be. I ran down Dewey in the Adirondacks and Bergson in
the Alps. Poincaré I unearthed in a Paris flat, James I heard in a
Columbia lecture room; Ostwald I found in a Saxon village; Schiller
I caught in an Oxford quad. I was thinking of going to China to see
Wang Yang-ming, but fortunately before I had bought my steamer ticket
or learned Chinese I discovered that he had been dead for three
centuries.[2]
Some who have read or tried to read what I said about Bergson and
Poincaré[3] have complained that I used too many big words, and one
man wrote me to say that if I would define pragmatism in words of one
syllable perhaps he might understand what I was talking about. I could
not guarantee that, of course, but I had no hesitation about complying
with his request. Confucius wrote his immortal works in words of one
syllable, and I would not be beaten by a Chinaman. Even Herbert Spencer
once condescended to translate his famous definition of evolution into
Anglo-Saxon. Since I am obliged to use the word "pragmatism" more than
once in this book I may forestall criticism by putting here my
Monosyllabic Definition of Pragmatism
The one way to find out if a thing is true is to try it
and see how it works. If it works well for a long time and
for all folks, it must have some truth in it. If it works
wrong it is false, at least in part. If there is no way to
test it, then it has no sense. It means naught to us when
we cannot tell what odds it makes if we hold to it or not.
A creed is just a guide to life. We must live to learn. If
a man would know what is right he must try to do what is
right. Then he can find out. Prove all things and hold fast
to that which is good. The will to have faith in a thing oft
makes the faith come true. So it can be said in a way that
we make truth for our own use. What we think must be of use
to us in some way, else why should we think it? The truth is
what is good for us, what helps us, what gives us joy and
strength, what shows us how to act, what ties up fact to
fact, so the chain will hold, what makes us see all things
clear and straight, and what keeps us from stray paths that
turn out wrong in the end. Thought is a tool, a means to an
end. Man has to act, and so he must think. In this way he
asks the world what it means to him. The need for thought
first comes when man asks "Why?" or "Which?" so that he may
know what to do to gain his end. The mind as it thinks makes
such facts as it can to best serve its use. Out of the facts
so come by is made a law, and this law in turn serves as a
rule to guide one's acts.
But the reader should be warned that no two pragmatists can be got to
agree upon any definition of pragmatism, and that the opponents of
pragmatism differ still more widely in their conception of it. Schiller
says that the most serious drawback in the name is that "it condemns
every exponent of pragmatism to consume at least half an hour of his
limited time in explaining the word." Schiller himself employs the term
"humanism" instead which being less novel is less disturbing to the
conventional mind but on the other hand has the serious disadvantage of
having been applied to a very different thing, namely, the spirit of
the Renaissance. Since C. S. Peirce who invented the term "pragmatism"
and William James who popularized it are both dead, the word finds
few defenders, although the mode of reasoning it tried to stand for
is obviously permeating all fields of thought. Like many other things
pragmatism seems likely to conquer the world incognito.[4]
A man in the act of dismounting from a bicycle is temporarily
incapacitated from the effective use of either mode of locomotion, and
it was at this psychological moment that I caught Doctor Schiller at
the gate of Corpus Christi College. Otherwise I might have missed him,
for he is as alert and agile physically as he is mentally. He usually
spends his summers mountain climbing in the Alps, though I suppose
he has suspended this pastime during the last three years while the
Tyrolean Alps are being used for other purposes than tourism.
Mr. Schiller wears the pointed beard that was the distinguishing mark
of the radical of the nineties. He has a Shakespearean-shaped forehead,
but wears un-Shakespearean glasses. He is as interesting to converse
with as he is to read, which is more than you can say of many authors.
He talks best while in motion, a real peripatetic philosopher. I
wondered why he did not take his students out of the old gloomy lecture
room and walk with them as he did with me, up and down the lawn between
the trees and the ivy-clad walls of the college garden. Curious turf it
was, close-cut and springy; I never felt anything like it under my feet
except an asphalt pavement on a hot summer day.
But I suppose it would be against the Oxford customs to adopt the Greek
method in teaching Greek philosophy. At any rate when I went to Mr.
Schiller's lecture on logic I found it as conventional in form as it
was revolutionary in spirit. One would have thought that printing
had never been invented, nor even the mimeograph. The lecture was
delivered slowly, and necessarily without feeling, clause by clause,
with frequent repetitions, so every word could be taken down. It was
really a brilliant lecture as I discovered afterwards when I read over
my notes, but at the time it sounded as dull as proof-reading, for
the lecturer dictated even the punctuation marks, as he went along:
"colon", "Italics", "inverted commas", etc. The English leave out the
punctuation marks in legal documents where they are needed and put them
into lectures where they do not belong.
The students, in short black gowns, were seated uncomfortably on
benches carved with the names of many generations, and were writing
awkwardly on long boards. These were furnished with ink-wells and quill
pens, although the students sensibly used fountain pens. I suppose it
is somebody's perquisite to supply such things as quills and snuff to
the college even if nobody uses them. An American college president
told me that he thought there was more graft at Oxford than anywhere
else in the world.
[Illustration: F. C. S. Schiller.]
If Mr. Schiller had remained in America he would now be lecturing to
one or two hundred at a time, largely teachers who had come from
all parts of the country expressly to hear his ideas and who would in
turn transmit them to their students. But in that room there were only
these fifteen boys, many of whom doubtless had no special interest in
logic or in Schiller's views of logic and who took his lectures simply
because they were required for examination, after which they could be
forgotten. I could not help contrasting this scene with the big lecture
room at Jena, modern yet satisfying to the esthetic and historic taste,
where Eucken's fiery eloquence held men and women gathered from five
continents, or with the Collège de France, where Bergson had attracted
an even larger and equally cosmopolitan audience. A man in Schiller's
position must gain his disciples chiefly through his books, and for a
man of Schiller's attractive personality this is a great disadvantage.
Print can never take the place of "the spoken word", but to have its
effect the spoken word must be widely heard.
The American visitor to Oxford meets a double mystery: how it is
that Oxford accomplishes so much with a poor and antiquated plant
and how it is that American universities do not accomplish more
with their modern and convenient plants. One hates to conclude that
plumbing and ventilation are incompatible with high thinking. But
if Spencer is right in defining life as the power of adaptation to
environment, the Oxford dons are most alive of any human beings. They
have shown the adaptability of hermit crabs in fitting themselves into
their awkward environment. They somehow manage to make themselves
comfortable in buildings that a New York tenement house inspector--who
is never regarded as unduly particular--would order torn down. They
work contentedly under conditions that would cause a strike in any
well-regulated union.
Oxford is the favorite resort of American tourists because it is
the most satisfactory of all the sights of Great Britain. The Tower
of London and Stratford-on-Avon do not compare with it. They are as
disappointing as an extinct volcano. But Oxford is an antiquity in
action. Our common feeling in regard to it was best expressed by a lady
tourist who was being personally conducted through one of the college
quadrangles when a student stuck his head out of a dormer window. "Oh,
my! Are these ruins inhabited?" was her delighted exclamation.
That is a characteristic trait of the English, the economical
utilization of antiquated buildings and institutions. The House
of Lords actually does something, even though what it does is wrong.
Westminster Abbey is not a mere mausoleum, like the Paris Panthéon.
It is a church where one may worship and hear sermons of decidedly
modernistic tone. The French, when they made up their minds that they
did not need a King any longer, cut his head off, which was a waste.
The English keep their King and make use of him for spectacular and
advertising purposes. Oxford is Cluny and Sorbonne in one, a curious
combination of old and new, useful and superfluous, progress and
reaction, that puzzles and fascinates every American visitor.
Ferdinand Canning Scott Schiller, M. A., D. Sc., Fellow and Senior
Tutor of Corpus Christi College, Oxford--to give for once his full
name and titles--was born in 1864. While at Rugby he showed decided
symptoms of intelligence, so he was picked as a probable winner in the
scholastic race and put in training for the classical scholarships.
The British turn all things into sport, even war and education, and
since public opinion does not allow headmasters to keep racehorses they
indulge their sporting instincts by backing their boys for the Blue
Ribbon, the Balliol Scholarships. These boys are then given daily doses
of classical verse competition; I infer for the same reason that
jockeys are fed on gin.
It is curious to see how widely educators differ as to the fundamental
principles of their business. The British system is built upon
competitions, prizes, and examinations. The American state universities
in the days of their pristine purity--I mean by that of course,
when I was a student--regarded competition as vicious, prizes as
demoralizing, and examinations as an evil to be eliminated if possible.
But it ill becomes a pragmatist to condemn a system that works so well
as the British, whatever theoretical objections may occur.
Much as Schiller detested making verses in a dead language, he did it
so well that he got a Major Exhibition. This gave him three hundred and
fifty dollars for five years as well as four hundred and fifty dollars
in Exhibitions from Rugby. But it also meant that he had sold himself
to run in harness for another four years at Balliol and was obliged to
master a philosophy which he already felt to be a fraud. T. H. Green
had died just before Schiller came up and had been sainted for the
greater glory of Balliol, and it seemed to the tutors good pedagogy
to set their pupils to begin the study of philosophy with Green's
"Prolegomena to Ethics." Most of the boys confronted with this
abstruse introduction came to the conclusion that it was wonderful, but
that they had no head for metaphysics because they could not see any
sense in it. Schiller very curiously came to the opposite conclusion
from the same premise.
Orthodox Oxford was at that time under the sway of the great
philosophic Trinity of Plato, Aristotle, and Hegel, which was supposed
somehow to be concordant with or at least allied to the theological
Trinity, and therefore fit food for the souls of innocent young men.
The third person of the philosophic Trinity was kept much in the dark,
because the tutors generally were not fond of reading German. They knew
still less of science and apparently did not suspect that Darwin and
his evolution might prove to have some bearing upon philosophy.
Schiller took his First Classes at Oxford, although he was given to
asking awkward questions and was known to be reading "out of bounds."
One of his examiners complained that he used such queer terms in his
papers, "solipsism" and "epistemology" for instance.
The years 1893-1897 Schiller spent as instructor at Cornell University,
and at the end of that period an amusing incident occurred, though
what it was and how it came about I don't know; possibly because I
never thought it best to inquire of any of the few who were in the
room at the time. The bare fact is interesting enough, that a young
man who had written one of the most brilliant volumes of the times on
metaphysics, "Riddles of the Sphinx", and who carried in his pocket a
call to teach philosophy at a leading college of Oxford, was flunked
in Cornell on his oral examination for Ph.D. in philosophy! Anybody
who is curious can pick up half a dozen inconsistent versions of this
famous episode on almost any campus. One is, that being fortified by
the crinkle of the above mentioned letter over his heart and knowing
that an American degree would have no value in England, Schiller
did not take the examination seriously and neglected the necessary
cramming. Another version of the story is that he turned tables upon
his examiners by bringing into action for the first time the pragmatic
arguments so much to their discomfiture and bewilderment that he was
penalized for these foul blows. But probably the details, if one knew
them, would prove to be quite commonplace compared with either of these
versions or the more picturesque legends that are in circulation, so it
is better to remain in ignorance and file it in the envelope with
such cases as John Henry Newman, who got only a Third Class; F. H.
Bradley, who got a Second; Gustave Doré, who failed in drawing; Darwin
who was called a stupid student, Grant who was graduated in the lower
half of his class, Mendel who was never allowed to graduate at Vienna,
and the like, good material all for some one who wants to investigate
the psychology of students--and examiners.
The chief benefit that Schiller got out of his American sojourn was an
acquaintance with William James. It was a case of love at first sight
and of lifelong devotion. Schiller dedicated his "Humanism" "To my dear
friend, the humanest of philosophers, William James, without whose
example and unfailing encouragement this book would never have been
written."
In 1897 Schiller was called back to England to become tutor in Corpus
Christi College. The president of that college, the late Thomas
Fowler, belonged rather to the pre-Hegelian Oxford generation of the
Mill-British-empiricism school of thought: He liked things to be made
intelligible, and he was so much struck by the lucidity of Schiller's
"Riddles of the Sphinx" that he called him from Cornell to Oxford.
Here then he has for twenty years lived the quiet, sheltered,
contemplative life of the Oxford don, varied only by such daring
adventures as his hunt for the hidden fallacies of formal logic, his
single combats with Mr. Bradley, and his ascent of the bleak heights
of speculative philosophy, where the Absolute is supposed to dwell
in solitude. Our American universities are putting up some very fair
imitations of Oxford architecture now. Some have transplanted ivy and
it is growing. Some have transplanted tutors and they are growing. But
one Oxford custom has not yet been introduced into our universities,
the custom of giving the professors time to think. In Oxford all the
men have time to think and some of them do. In America if a man shows a
tendency to become absorbed in thought he is made a dean or put on the
committee of accredited high schools, which cures him.
In the British "Who's Who" Mr. Schiller's recreations are ordinarily
put down as "mountaineering, golf, etc." But in one edition of that
handy volume of contemporary autobiography it is stated that his chief
recreation is "editing _Mind!_" Thus was revealed the secret of the
mysterious appearance at Christmas, 1901, of a periodical which in
looks resembled one of the regular numbers of that staid blue-covered
review of philosophy, _Mind_, but with most startling contents.
The frontispiece is a "Portrait of Its Immanence, the Absolute." This
is followed by an article on "The Place of Humour in the Absolute, by
F. H. Badley"; "The Critique of Pure Rot, by I. Cant"; "A Commentary
on the Snark"; "More Riddles from Worse Sphinxes", and the like.
The advertisements were likewise unusual--"A Dictionary of Oxford
Mythology, in six volumes, containing a complete account of the stories
told in the Common Rooms and the men to whom they have from time to
time been attached"; "A fine consignment of assorted Weltanschauungen
just received from Germany"; phonograms of all the lectures, jokes
extra, with colored cinematographs of the most famous professors in
action, for armchair study, etc. The history of philosophy in fifty-one
limericks, covering all systems from Thales to Nietzsche, would be
useful on examination time by students of "Philosophy Four."
We hedonists, said Aristippus,
Discomforts detest when they grip us,
So wealth we adore,
The moment live for
And take what the rich 'Arries tip us.
The infinite self-absorbed Brahma
Was dreaming the World-Panorama:
He groaned and he snored,
Till at length he grew bored,
And woke up, and broke up the Drama.
"To multiply beings", said Occam,
"Is needless, 'tis better to dock 'em."
So he seized on his razor,
This pestilent phraser,
And ran out to bloodily block 'em.
A pessimist, great Schopenhauer,
Found living exceedingly sour,
At Hegel he cursed,
His grievances nursed,
And poured forth his wrath by the hour.
As will be seen from the above, _Mind!_ reads much like the Junior
Annual of an American college, but at Oxford the students are deficient
in journalistic enterprise, so the duty of keeping things cheerful
devolves upon their betters. According to its cover _Mind!_ was "edited
by a Troglodyte" but as there was only one philosopher in England who
would have the cheek to do it and who could parody the style and expose
the weak points of the regular contributors to _Mind_, the troglodyte
was soon tracked to his cave. The author of a similar _jeu d'esprit_,
"The Joysome History of Education", which surreptitiously circulates
about Columbia University, has so far as I know never been disclosed to
the public.
But Schiller has not been able to confine his humor to that
uniquity, _Mind!_ He allows it to creep into his contributions to
_Mind_-without-the-exclamation-point and other serious journals. He is
a keen debater and does not follow the ordinary rules of fencing, but
frequently disconcerts his antagonists by parrying their thrusts with a
pun or a personality. He is, so far as I know, the first philosopher to
find room for jokes in his formal philosophy, as the following passage
shows:
When we map out the whole region of Truth-claim or Formal
Truth, we find that it contains (1) lies, (2) errors, (3)
methodological fictions, (4) methodological assumptions, (5)
postulates, (6) validated truths, (7) axioms, and (8) jokes.
Most philosophers in fact would not only ignore his eighth category,
but would neglect his first and second, accepting any statement that
claimed to be true and devoting themselves to the study of its logical
implications. But the pragmatist is more interested in finding out how
and in what way an assertion comes to be called true and how it _makes
good_ its claim after it has been asserted. As Schiller puts it:[5]
What then is common to all sorts of Truth and Error, and
renders them species of a common genus? Nothing but their
psychological side; "truth" is the proper term for what
satisfies, "error" for what thwarts, a human purpose in
cognitive activity.
The difference between Truth and Error, therefore, is
ultimately one in value. The "true" way of conceiving
an object or judging a situation is simply the way most
valuable for our purpose; the "false" way is one which is,
at least relatively, worthless. "Truth" is a eulogistic,
"error" a dyslogistic, way of valuing a cognitive situation.
Truth and Error therefore are continuous, as history shows.
Either may develop out of the other, and both are rooted
in the same problems of knowing, which are ultimately
problems of living. The "truths" of one generation become
the "errors" of the next, when it has achieved more valuable
and efficient modes of interpreting and manipulating the
apparent "facts", which the new "truths" are continuously
transforming. And conversely, what is now scouted as "error"
may hereafter become the fruitful parent of a long progeny
of "truths."
It follows also that (as every examiner who marks a paper
knows) Truth and Error admit of quantitative differences.
Both can vary in importance, and can attain (or fail of)
their purpose to a greater or a less degree. But neither
is absolute. An answer to a question is in general called
true, if it is true enough for the purpose in hand. But this
does not preclude a greater exactitude if (for a different
purpose) it should be required. It is a true answer to the
question--"when do you leave?" to reply "to-morrow"; but if
necessary I can specify the train I go by. Thus the demand
for absolute exactness is both humanly unnecessary and
scientifically unmeaning. Indeed a degree of accuracy higher
than the situation demands would be irrational. No one wants
to know the height of a mountain in millimeters, and if he
did, he could not ascertain it, because his methods would
not measure fine enough. Scientific truths are infinitely
perfectible, but never absolute.[6]
Now if philosophers are wise, they will accept this sort of
truth, and admit that any truth is "absolute" enough so soon
as it is equal to the demands made upon it, while none must
ever be so absolute as to become incorrigible and incapable
of further growth.
A human factor, an element of personal desire, enters into all
our thinking; otherwise why should we bother to think? Even our
most abstract and general theorems have a hidden _Hinterland_ of
subconscious motives, limitations, and conditions.
The abstract statement that "two and two make four" is
always incomplete. We need to know to what "twos" and
"fours" the dictum is applied. It would not be true of lions
and lambs, nor of drops of water, nor of pleasures and
pains.[7]
This suppressed context of thought is of course largely personal,
and with it is suppressed the human interest of philosophy. Hence
the endeavor to drag it to light was very properly called Humanism.
Schiller conceives every thought as some one's experiment for which he
is responsible.
"Every thought", he says, "is an act and even the most 'theoretical'
assertions are made to gratify an interest." He finds in the present
war a most unpleasant confirmation of his theory that thought is
subordinate to action and never free from human volitional influence:[8]
If only philosophers could be got to face the facts of
actual life, could any of them fail to observe the enormous
object-lesson in the truth of pragmatism which the world
has been exhibiting in the present crisis? Everywhere the
"truths" believed in are relative to the nationality and
sympathies of their believers. It is, indeed, lamentable
that such an orgy of the will to believe should have been
needed to illustrate the pragmatic nature of truth, but
who will dispute that for months say 999 persons out of
1000 have been believing what they please, and consciously
or unconsciously making it "true" with a fervor rarely
bestowed even by the most ardent philosophers on the most
self-evident truths? No improbability, no absurdity, no
atrocity has been too great to win credence, and the
uniformity of human nature has been signally attested by the
way in which the same stories (_mutatis mutandis_) have
been credited on both sides.
Since the controversy over pragmatism hinges on this theory of truth, I
will quote in condensed form what Schiller says in his discussion with
Miss Stebbing:[9]
It is an inevitable corollary of the belief in absolute
truth that absolute truth cannot find lodgment in human
mind, nor be attained by way of human science. We were
led, therefore, to examine how in fact belief in the
accepted "truths" grew up. We found that every thought was
essentially a _personal experiment_ that might succeed
or fail, and that whether it did or not depended on its
consequences. But it seemed clear that "true" was the term
appropriated by language to the success, as false was to
failure, of such experiments. Of course both "success" and
"truth" are relative terms. _Absolute_ "success" is found
as little as absolute "truth" and for the same reason. All
"truths" remain (preferred) truth-claims and retain an
infinite appetite for assimilating further confirmation.
But there does come a point, alike in the individual's
experience and in social opinion at any time, at which it
seems that certain truth-claims have received confirmation
enough to make them _pragmatically_ certain. These form the
reigning truths. But they never form a closed oligarchy or
an immutable system. Merit can force its way into their
ranks, and inefficiency entails degradation. Thus, though
their position is (psychologically) unchallenged, it
is never (logically) unchallenged. So it can not be said
that because they work they are _absolutely_ true. They are
_called_ true because they work, and there is no sense in
calling anything true for any other reason; but the progress
of knowledge may nevertheless supersede them at the next
step.
Since Schiller indignantly repudiates the formula often ascribed to
pragmatism that "All that works is true", and since Mr. Bradley has
come to say[10] "I agree that any idea which in any way 'works' has in
some degree truth", it would seem that these old antagonists are really
not so far apart in their opinions as their words would indicate.
For classical authority for his Humanism Schiller goes back to the
famous dictum of Protagoras: "Man is the measure of all things." In
Plato's "Dialogues", Protagoras is represented as having been argued
quite out of court by Socrates, but Schiller appeals to posterity
against this decision, and he has written several supplemental
dialogues of his own to prove that Protagoras was really in the
right.[11]
Schiller's most serious work so far is his destructive criticism
of the Aristotelian logic. Since my own study of logic came to
an abrupt end as soon as I had secured a passing mark on Jevons, I
shall not attempt to express an opinion upon the value of Schiller's
"Formal Logic", but will instead quote from the review of the volume by
Professor Dewey of Columbia.[12]
In substance, the volume (a large octavo of about four
hundred pages) is an unrelenting, dogged pursuit of the
traditional logic, chapter by chapter, section by section.
Not a single doctrine, nor, I think, a single distinction
of the official textbooks escapes Schiller's demolishing
hand.... A vital and wholesome sense of the realities of
actual thinking pervades the whole book; it supplies the
background against which the criticisms of formal doctrine
are projected. Mr. Schiller brings out, in case after case,
with a cumulative effect which is fairly deadly, that at the
crucial point each formal distinction is saved from complete
meaninglessness only by an unacknowledged and surreptitious
appeal to some matter of context, need, aim, and use. Why
not, then, frankly recognize the indispensableness of such
volitional and emotional factors, and instead of pretending
to a logic that excludes them, build up a logic that
corresponds to human intellectual endeavor and achievement.
It is difficult to see how even the most hardened devotee of
a purely theoretical intellectualism can lay down the book
without such questions haunting him....
While traditional logic has much to say about truth, the
truth it talks about is mere formal consistency, since
it declines to consider the material application of its
premises. Relevance--a fundamental conception of concrete
thought--is excluded because it goes with selection, with
selection of the part that is useful, while formal logic
professes an all-inclusive ideal. Selection, moreover, is a
voluntary and hence arbitrary act, and so is shut out from a
doctrine that acknowledges only what is purely theoretical.
Finally, formal logic, with its creed of absolute certitude,
abhors the very mention of adventure and risk, the life
blood of actual human thinking, which is aroused by doubts
and questions, and proceeds by guesses, hypotheses, and
experiments, to a decision which is always somewhat
arbitrary and subject to the risk of later revision.
Much of the criticism of "Formal Logic" contained in this large
volume is too technical for any save professionals to follow, but at
my request Mr. Schiller was kind enough to write an article for _The
Independent_ putting the main points of it in a form "understanded of
the common people." From this I quote the passage in which he shows
that the syllogism cannot lead unerringly to new truth:
The peculiar aim of logic hitherto has been to discover
a form of "valid inference." By this was meant a form of
words so _fool-proof_ that it could not be _misapplied_,
and that the use of it would absolutely guarantee the
soundness of the conclusion if only the reasoning had been
fortunate enough to start from true premises. In the
syllogism it was supposed that such a form had been found.
From _all swans are white_ and _this bird is a swan_ it was
to follow inevitably that _this bird is white_, and the
course of nature would eternally conform to the prophetic
demonstrations of logic.
Yet logicians also had soon to note that even formally there
was something wrong about this syllogistic form. It seemed
to "prove" what was either nothing new or nothing known. To
justify the "major premise" "_all_ swans are white", must
not its assert or have already seen _this_ swan and know
that _it_ is white? Or, if he did _not_ know this, is he not
_risking_ an assertion about some "swans" on the strength of
what he knows about others? And what right had he thus to
argue from the known to the unknown? Can an "inference" be
"valid" if it involves a _risk_?
When therefore _black_ swans arrive from Australia to upset
his dogmatizing, what is he to do? Will he say his major
premise was a definition, and no bird, however swan-like,
shall be _called_ a "swan" if it cannot pass his color-test?
If so, his reasoning is still caught in the old dilemma,
that he either "proves" nothing _new_ or begs the question
in another way. For he then had no right to assert his
"minor premise", _this bird is a swan_, if he knew not
it was white. Or will he, desperately, say "in both of
these interpretations the syllogistic form is fatuous; but
kindly understand it as asserting a _law of nature_ which
is immutable, and applied to the particular case in the
minor premise." But, if so, how does he know that his "law"
applies to the "case"? that the "case" is such as he takes
it to be? that he has picked out the right "law" to deal
with the case and formulated it correctly? If it is quite
certain that the "law" applies to the "case", his conclusion
proves nothing new; if it is not, he runs the risk that
the case of which he is trying to predict the behavior may
be so exceptional as to break or modify his law. And if he
runs that risk, is he not renouncing his ideal of reaching
fool-proof certainty?
There seems to be _no_ way, therefore, of saving "valid
inference", of so interpreting the syllogism that it is
both formally valid and humanly instructive. If it is to be
instructive, it can only enlighten human ignorance, and then
its premises _cannot_ be _certainly_ true.[13]
Some critics, having in mind how little attention is paid to formal
logic in American schools, have expressed the opinion that Schiller
was wasting his powder on dead game. But however little it may be used
in reasoning, formal logic is still the object of formal reverence
everywhere, and in Oxford it is strongly entrenched and heavily
subsidized as Schiller says in the passage:
That the same doctrine, in perfect verbal continuity, should
have been taught and examined on for over two thousand years
would be the most stupendous fact in education, were it not
surpassed by the still more surprising fact that during all
this time no one has arisen to call it nonsense through and
through, and that every would-be improvement has been
countered by the retort that it was "not in Aristotle." ...
The great mass of logicians have always been true to their
salt. For Aristotle is still very heavily endowed.
In the University of Oxford alone three philosophy
professors, twenty-eight _literae humaniores_ tutors, and
about 460 classical scholars and exhibitioners are paid, at
an annual cost of over £50,000, to believe that the theory
of thought has stood still, or stumbled into error when it
tried to move, ever since the composition of the "Organon",
and that all modern science may be read into and out of
the obscurities of the "Posterior Analytics." The Secret
Doctrine in which this is taught has never been divulged in
print, but examiners know that there are passages in the
ordinary Oxford Logic Lecture which must have been copied
down by two hundred generations of students ever since the
twelfth century.
Like James and Bergson and unlike Dewey, Schiller has interested
himself in psychical research as a possible way of proving personal
immortality.[14] He does not seem from his published work to have yet
obtained any satisfactory experimental evidence of a future life,
but he regards immortality as an ethical postulate, necessary to the
conceptions of a moral universe, for if we reject it "we should be
plunged in that unfathomable abyss where Scepticism fraternizes with
Pessimism and they hug their miseries in chaos undisguised."
But in his earliest work "Riddles of the Sphinx" he expressed the
opinion that nowadays few people took a real interest in the question
of immortality and that it had little influence upon conduct. This
unconventional opinion was confirmed many years later when the Society
for Psychical Research conducted a _questionnaire_ on the subject and
found that of the many thousand persons interrogated a large proportion
did not regard a future life as of practical importance to them.[15]
Within the last few years Schiller has entered a new field, the
eugenics movement, where his keen wit and power of analysis are doing
good service. In his review of Nietzsche's work[16] he recognizes
that Nietzsche is not without reason when he asserts that the moral
qualities he dislikes, such as pity and sympathy, may lead to
decadence, for, as Schiller elsewhere shows, social reform, unless it
is eugenically directed, may lead to the growth of the evils it aims
to alleviate. In a very remarkable article published shortly before
the outbreak of the war,[17] he foretold the collapse of European
civilization and suggested that the Japanese or Chinese, through the
greater importance they attach to the family, might be found more
worthy of preeminence.
If the ancestor-worship of the animist can be developed into
the descendant-worship of the eugenist, I can see no reason
why one should not prognosticate for both of them a rosier
future and a more assured continuance than for our European
societies, if these latter yield to the pressure of those,
whether called individualists, socialists, or militarists,
who tempt them to destruction.
The danger to European culture lies, he says, in that "our Hellenistic
political philosophy exhibits all the marks of senile dementia and
progressive paranoia."
The evidence goes to show that throughout the most valuable
part of the nation, not only in the upper classes but also
in the middle classes and in the best parts of the working
classes, the birth-rate per marriage has in a generation
sunk from four and a half to two, and is now only half the
size required to keep up the numbers in those classes.
In other words, society is now so ordered that in every
generation it sheds one-half of the classes it itself
values most highly, and supplies their places with the
offspring of the feeble-minded and casual-labourer classes,
whose families still average more than seven. What
seriously aggravates the evil is the whole trend of social
legislation. Social reform costs money, and the money is
raised by taxation, which bears very hardly on the middle
classes, who cannot curtail luxuries like the rich, and
will not lower their standard of comfort. They meet the
extra expense, therefore, by further postponing the age of
marriage, and further reducing their output of children. One
of the chief effects, therefore, of our present methods of
improving social conditions is to deteriorate the race. And
this in a twofold manner: they eliminate the middle class,
and they promote the survival of the unfit and defective.
It is perfectly possible, therefore, to tax the middle
classes out of existence. Indeed, it has been done.
History exhibits a great object-lesson in the decline of
the Roman empire. This appears to have been mainly due
to an unscientific system of taxation which crushed the
middle class and left no breeding ground for ability and
ambition between the millionaire nobles, who had nothing to
rise to, and the pauperised masses, who had no chance of
rising. Consequently, the empire had to take from without
its borders the men it needed to conduct its military and
civil administration. The barbarians alone could furnish
the men to run the empire, and consequently the barbarians
inevitably came to overrun the empire.
The Great War which he could not foresee has immeasurably accelerated
the degenerative process which he foretold. The death roll of
university students and graduates, representing, however inadequate
the examination system, a selected class of young men of superior
intellectual ability, is probably higher than in any other class.
When I visited Oxford a few years before the war the students were
already drilling for the impending conflict and practically all who
were eligible enlisted at the first call. Raising an army by appeals
to patriotism as was done in England means sending to the front
to bear the brunt of battle longest those who are most energetic,
self-sacrificing, and intelligent, while the slackers, the incompetent,
the weaklings, the selfish, and the dull were left to the last or not
taken at all.
Besides this the burden of taxation resting upon the middle classes
that Schiller thought unbearable in 1914 has been multiplied and will
act as a deterrent to large families more strongly than ever in the
future. A Royal Commission has been appointed to consider methods for
checking the alarming decline in the birth-rate.
One anti-eugenic agency which Schiller fails to mention but which
strikes an outsider as very serious is Labanism. It was formerly
the custom to require all Oxford fellows to remain celibate. Later
they were allowed to marry after serving seven years, whence the
name. Recently this prohibition has been removed, but the antiquated
social organization of the colleges acts as a practical deterrent
of marriage. So by this elaborate and expensive system of examination,
competitions, and promotions--which unfortunately is not so
inefficient as its occasional mistakes might lead us to think--the
university prevents those whom it deems to have the brightest minds
from transmitting their mental endowments to posterity. The devil
could not have devised a more ingenious scheme for the promotion of
mediocrity. Since Oxford has been in existence for about eight hundred
years it must have had a considerable influence on the reduction of
British genius.
As Schiller points out, any measures to be eugenically effective must
apply to the young. The rewards bestowed upon ability are not only
frequently misapplied but they are invariably too long delayed. The
youthful genius is too often forced to give up having a family or
compelled to support it on faith, hope and charity. To this defect
in our civilization Schiller has given the apt name of "social
hysteresis."[18]
In all the professions (except, perhaps, that of the
actress) the young are underpaid, and established
reputations are overpaid. It would be eugenically
preferable to do the opposite. Yet the existing practice
is largely due to unintentional stupidity, and failure
to discover ability soon enough. Now to the individual
this system brings compensation, if he lives long enough,
because he continues to be rewarded for work he has done
long ago, and even is no longer capable of doing, and
is eventually raised to the status of a "grand old man"
whom ancient institutions delight to honour, by dint of
sheer longevity. But eugenically this social _hysteresis_,
this delay in recompensing merit, has a fatal effect. It
renders the capable, ambitious and rising members of the
professional classes unduly sterile, owing to compulsory
celibacy, postponement of marriage, overwork, etc. Thus a
large proportion of the ability which rises to the top of
the social ladder lasts only for one generation, and does
not permanently benefit the race.
From this passage it will be seen that Schiller does not fall into the
common fallacy of unconsciously assuming that the upper classes of our
present social system necessarily consist of superior individuals.
But he does lay stress upon something often overlooked, that this
assumption is more justified as society becomes more democratic:
Precisely in proportion as a society improves the
opportunities of the able to rise, it must accelerate the
elimination of fitness in the racial stock. So long as a
relatively rigid social order rendered it almost impossible
for ability to rise from the ranks, reservoirs of ability
could accumulate unseen in the lower social strata, and
burst forth in times of need, as in the French Revolution:
but the more successfully a _carrière ouverte aux talents_
is instituted, the more surely are these strata _kept
drained_, and incapacitated from retrieving the waste of
ability in the upper layers of society. Now it is doubtless
true that the _primary_ need of society is to find persons
capable of conducting its affairs ably, and that a social
order which does not allow ability to rise is therefore bad:
but nations cannot with impunity so order themselves as to
eliminate the very qualities they most admire and desire,
and must husband their resources in men as in the other
sources of their wealth and welfare.[19]
That is to say, it did not matter much if in former times the nobility
did tend to die out in a few generations, for in hereditable ability
they were not much above the average. But in the more just regime
that we are trying to introduce, especially in America, when the
opportunities for higher education and advancement are extended to
the gifted of all classes, it will be disastrous if the professional
and well-to-do classes fail to contribute their share to the future
population, for it means a continuous reversal of the method of the
survival of the fittest by which evolution has been accomplished. This
is not a law that man can repeal however he may disregard it. So it
happens that civilized societies tend to die at the top and the
human race makes little or no progress in native ability. As Schiller
says:
The inventor of the wheel or even of a new mode of chipping
flints may well have been as great a genius as the human
race has produced, and it accords well with this that the
early paleolithic races seem to have possessed a cranial
capacity, not less, but greater than our own. For in the dim
red dawn of man the fool-killing apparatus of nature was
terribly effective, and society could do little to mitigate
its horrors and to protect its inefficient members.
The injustice, and what is more important, the injurious effects of the
present distribution of honors and emoluments he exposes in his article
on "National Self-Selection":
Is it not nonsense to say that the Archbishop of Canterbury
is paid £15,000 a year and Prof. J. J. Thomson seven or
eight hundred, because the persons fitted to perform the
latter's functions are twenty times as common as those
suited to the former's? Is not the real reason plainly that
the former is the beneficiary of a long social development
which has liberally endowed the Church, while the social
appreciation of the value of science is only just beginning,
and has not yet raised the makers of new truths to a par
with the custodians of time-honoured revelations? Our
example, however, draws attention to a very general fact,
viz., that the social position of various functions is
very largely the product of past valuations which have
persisted from mere habit. Hence their present salaries
do not really prove that an Archbishop is twenty times as
valuable to a nation as a scientific genius, or thrice as
precious as a Premier, nor even that men now think so.
How many of us, for example, really now believe that mere
descent from an illiterate medieval baron attests sufficient
merit to entitle a man to a hereditary seat in the House of
Lords? If we continued to value fighting qualities as highly
as of yore, we should promote our actual fighting men. When
we want really to defend the House of Lords, we point to
its sagacity in gauging the will of the people and to the
economic value of its attractiveness for foreign heiresses.
Hence one of the chief needs of a society which desires
to reconstitute itself on eugenical principles is a
thorough revision of social status. It must bring the
social position of various services into closer agreement
with their present value. And it must induce a greater
feeling of responsibility about the popular valuations and
transvaluations of functions, which are constantly exalting
the position of the caterers to individual pleasures above
the consolidators of man's permanent welfare. It is _not_
good for a society that a cricketer or a prize-fighter or a
dancer should be esteemed and rewarded more highly than the
man who discovers a cure for malaria or cancer.[20]
The humanistic view of metaphysics Schiller expresses in the preface to
the 1910 edition of his earliest work "Riddles of the Sphinx."
Practically a system of metaphysics, with whatever
pretensions to pure thought and absolute rationality it may
start is always in the end one man's personal vision about
the universe, and the "metaphysical craving" often so strong
in the young is nothing but the desire to tell the universe
what one thinks of it. Of course, the tale may be worth
telling if told well.
This describes the "Riddles of the Sphinx" exactly. In it the youthful
Schiller tells the universe what he thinks of it and it is told well.
But his thoughts have changed in the twenty-five years since this
volume was published so that even in its revised form it does not so
well express his views as do his later volumes, "Humanism" and "Studies
in Humanism", of which revised editions were brought out in 1912.
The doctrine known as Absolute Idealism was, Schiller explains,
imported from Germany, "soon after its demise in its native country",
for the purpose of counteracting the anti-religious developments
of science. But the abstract conception of the Absolute is, in his
opinion, of no value to religion or anything else. The pragmatic demand
for God is, first, as "a human _moral_ principle of help and justice",
and second, as "an aid to the _intellectual_ comprehension of the
universe", but the metaphysical Absolute satisfies neither of these
cravings, for it is too impersonal to help anybody and too general to
explain anything.
In his chapter on "Absolutism and the Dissociation of Personality"[21]
he generously offers his aid to the idealistic monists who have
difficulty in conceiving how the One became the Many and why the
individualistic minds included in the Universal Mind should be so
antagonistic. Schiller suggests that it is an analogous case to the
dissociation of that celebrated Boston lady "Miss Beauchamp" into
several secondary personalities. But he admits that it is "a little
startling at first to think of the Absolute as morbidly dissociated or
even as downright mad", especially since in the case of the Absolute
there is no outsider, like Doctor Morton Prince, to put the parts
together again.
Many years before he had said[22]
The conception of a Deity absorbed in perfect, unchanging
and eternal bliss is a blasphemy upon the Divine energy
which might be permitted to the heathen ignorance of
Aristotle, but which should be abhorred by all who have
learnt the lesson of the Crucifixion. A theology which
denies that the imperfection of the world must be reflected
in the sorrows of the Deity simply shows itself blind to
the deepest and truest meaning of the figure of Him that
was "a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief" and deaf
to the gospel of Divine sympathy with the world. Thus the
world-process is the process of the _redemption_ alike of
God, of the world and of our own selves.
The conception of a struggling and self-developing God which Schiller
adduced from Christian principles is remarkably like that to which
Bergson was led by other lines of reasoning.[23]
The value of the pragmatic method to religion is discussed by Schiller
in his article on "Faith, Reason and Religion",[24] where he shows that
even the most rigorous scientific reasoning involves the element of
faith, and on the other hand that faith is devoid of value unless it is
verified in the only way by which anything can be verified, that is, by
works. He says:
Christianity is an essentially human and thoroughly
pragmatic religion, hampered throughout its history and at
times almost strangled by an alien theology, based upon
the intellectualistic speculations of Greek philosophers.
Fortunately the Greek metaphysic embodied (mainly) in the
"Athanasian" creed is too obscure to have ever been
really functional; its chief mischief has always been to
give theological support to "philosophic" criticisms, which
by identifying God with "the One" have aimed at eliminating
the human elements from the Christian religion. As against
all such attempts, however, we must hold fast to the
principle that the truest religion is that which issues in
and fosters the best life.
The pragmatic criterion of truth, that all truths must work, is not
a lax one as its opponents assert but the most stringent that can be
applied. It means--"You shall back your beliefs with your acts and
shall not assert the truth of whatever suits you without any testing at
all." It eliminates as meaningless all theories that make no difference
whether they are believed or disbelieved. It demands constant
confirmation of all beliefs by their consequences. It insists upon
the unity of theory and practice, of faith and works. This point was
plainly put by Schiller in his address before the Pan-Anglican Church
Congress of 1908:
For any theory to work, it must be believed in, e.g.,
believed to be _true_. It is impossible, e.g., to practice
prayer merely as a piece of spiritual hygiene, and in order
to get the strengthening which is said to result from the
practice. The practice need not, of course, start with a
firm belief in the reality of its object. But unless it
engenders a real belief, it will become inefficacious.
Hence, to conceive of Pragmatism as ultimately sanctioning
an "act-as-if" attitude of religious make-believe is a
misapprehension; it is to confound it with the discredited
and ineffectual dualism of Kant's antithesis of practical
and theoretic "reason." Lastly, it should be noted that
any theory which works must evoke some response from the
objective nature of things. If there were no "God", i.e.,
nothing that could afford any satisfaction to any religious
emotion, the whole religious attitude would be futile.
If it is not, it must contain essential truth, though it
may remain to be determined what is the objective fact
corresponding to the postulate.
HOW TO READ SCHILLER
"Humanism" (1903, new edition 1912) and "Studies in Humanism"
(1907, new edition 1912) are both collections of papers presenting
various phases of Schiller's philosophy. Either one may serve as an
introduction to the author. "Riddles of the Sphinx" (1891), though
also revised (1910), represents an earlier mode of thought. "Formal
Logic" (1912) is too technical for any but well prepared students. All
Schiller's works are published by The Macmillan Company.
The reader who loves a fight and does not faint at the sight of inkshed
will find what he wants in almost any volume of the Oxford Mind or the
Columbia _Journal of Philosophy, Psychology and Scientific Methods_.
Where the conflict rages most fiercely there Schiller will be seen in
the midst of the combatants, thrusting in all directions at the
weak points in their armor. To enumerate all of his controversial and
fugitive writings would be impossible here, but the following articles
at least must be mentioned:
"Do Men Desire Immortality?" (_Fortnightly_, vol. 76, p. 430).
"The Desire for a Future Life" (_Independent_, September 15, 1904).
"Psychical Research" (_Fortnightly_, vol. 83, p. 60). Presidential
Address (Proceedings Society for Psychical Research, 1914-1915).
Miss Beauchamp (_Journal Philosophy, Psychology and Scientific
Methods_, vol. 4, p. 20; and _Mind_, No. 70, p. 183).
"The Philosophy of Friedrich Nietzsche" (_Quarterly Review_, 1913).
"Choice" and "Infallibility" (_Hibbert Journal_, 1909).
"Plato" (_Quarterly Review_, vol. 204, p. 62). "Pluralism"
(_Proceedings of Aristotelian Society_, 1908-1909).
"The Rational Conception of Truth" (_Proceedings Aristotelian Society_,
1906).
"Oxford of the Workingman" (_Fortnightly_, February, 1913).
"Cosmopolitan Oxford" (_Fortnightly_, May, 1902). "War Prophecies"
(_Journal Society Psychical Research_, June, 1916).
"Criticism of Perry's Realism" (_Mind_, 1914).
Discussions of pragmatism (_Mind_, 1913, 1915). "New Developments of
Mr. Bradley's Philosophy" (_Mind_, 1915).
"Present Phase of Idealistic Philosophy" (_Mind_, January and October,
1910). __
"Realism, Pragmatism, and William James" (_Mind_, 1915)
"The Humanism of Protagoras" (Mind, April, 1911).
"Logic _versus_ Life" (_Independent_, vol. 73, p. 375). "Aristotle's
Refutation of the Aristotelian Logic" (_Mind_, vol. 23, pp. 1, 395,
558).
"The Working of Truths and Their Criterion" (_Mind_, vol. 22, No. 88).
"Error" (IV Congresso internazionale di filosofia, Bologna, 1911).
"Relevance" (_Mind_, vol. 21, No. 82).
"The Working of Truths" (_Mind_, vol. 21, No. 84). "National
Self-Selection" (_Eugenics Review_, April, 1914)
"Our Critic Criticized" (_Eugenics Review_, January, 1914). Criticism
of Schiller and other pragmatists may be found in the controversies
referred to, but I may also add the following references:
"Vital Lies" by Vernon Lee (John Lane Company, 1913).
"Pragmatism" (_Quarterly Review_, April, 1909).
"British Exponents of Pragmatism" by Professor M'Gilvary (_Hibbert
Journal_, April, 1908).
"Der Pragmatismus von James und Schiller," by Doctor Werner Bloch
(1913).
[1] Schiller says that "Professor Santayana, though a pragmatist in
epistemology is a materialist in metaphysics."
[2] The Philosophy of Wang Yang-ming is now accessible in English,
through the translation of Doctor Henke (Open Court Publishing Company,
Chicago, 1916).
[3] "Major Prophets of To-day," First Series, 1914. Little, Brown, and
Company, Boston.
[4] Of course any one who wants to find out at first hand what
pragmatism is will not bother with what I say but will turn to
William James's "Pragmatism" or invest fifty cents in the briefer and
more comprehensive survey of the movement in D. L. Murray's primer
of "Pragmatism." A definition of pragmatism that is anything but
monosyllabic may be found in the chapter on Dewey. The story is told
of a college woman who was asked what Professor James's lecture on
pragmatism was going to be about and replied that she thought it had
something to do with the royal succession in Austria. Schiller's own
definition is to be found in his "Studies in Humanism:"
Pragmatism is the doctrine (i) that truths are logical values; (2)
that the "truth" of an assertion depends on its application; (3) that
the meaning of a rule lies in its application; (4) that ultimately all
meaning depends on purpose; (5) that all mental life is purposive.
Pragmatism is (6) a systematic protest against all ignoring of the
purposiveness of actual knowing, and it is (7) a conscious application
to epistemology (or logic) of a teleological psychology, which implies,
ultimately, a voluntaristic metaphysic.
[5] Address on "Error" before the Congresso Internazionale di
Filosofia, Bologna, 1911.
[6] I find the following incident reported of a Boston school which
would indicate that the philosophy of William James is influencing the
younger generation in his home city:
"Well, Waldo," said the professor of geometry, "can you prove any of
to-day's theorems?"
"No, sir, I'm afraid I can't," said Waldo hopefully; "but I can render
several of them highly probable."
[7] "Studies in Humanism."
[8] "Realism, Pragmatism and William James." _Mind_, 1915.
[9] _Mind_, vol. 22, p. 534, 1913.
[10] "Essays on Truth and Reality" by F. H. Bradley. See Schiller's
"New Developments of Mr. Bradley's Philosophy" in _Mind_, 1915.
[11] See "Protagoras the Humanist", and "Gods and Priests" in "Studies
in Humanism", and "Useless Knowledge" and "Plato or Protagoras" in
"Humanism."
[12] _The Independent_. Schiller's "Formal Logic" gave rise to much
controversy. See for instance _Mind_, vol. 23, p. 1, 398, 558. One
critic called it "a sympathetic appreciation of all known logical
fallacies."
[13] "Logic _versus_ Life" in _The Independent_, vol. 73, p. 375.
[14] The latter part of "Humanism" and of "Riddles of the Sphinx" is
devoted to this topic. Schiller succeeded Bergson as President of the
Society for Psychical Research in 1914.
[15] See Schiller's article on this in _The Independent_ of September
15, 1904, or in _Fortnightly Review_, vol. 76, p. 430.
[16] _Quarterly Review_, 1913.
[17] "Eugenics and Politics" in _The Hibbert Journal_, January, 1914.
[18] "Practical Eugenics in Education."
[19] "Practical Eugenics in Education."
[20] _Eugenics Review_, April, 1910.
[21] In "Studies in Humanism."
[22] "Riddles of the Sphinx," p. 431.
[23] See "Creative Evolution" and Chapter II of "Major Prophets of
To-day"; also Wells and Shaw in this volume.
[24] In "Studies in Humanism" and _Hibbert Journal_, January, 1906. See
also "Science and Religion" in "Riddles of the Sphinx", new edition.