LIBRARY UKHVta^TY 9f OALitKWVTA SA* CMBGO ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY BY THE SAME AUTHOR LECTURES ON HUMANISM, with special reference to its bearing on Sociology. London : George Allen & Unwin Ltd. 1907. Pp. vi, 243. OUTLINES OF METAPHYSICS. Second Edition. London : Macmillan & Co., 1906. Pp. xv, 175. A MANUAL OF ETHICS. Fifth Edition. London : W. B. Cliye, 1915. Pp. xxii, 500. AN INTRODUCTION TO SOCIAL PHI- LOSOPHY. Second Edition. Glasgow : MacLehose & Sons, 1895. Pp. xv, 454. [Owf of print. BY MRS. MACKENZIE, M.A., formerly Professor of Education in University College, Cardiff. HEGEL'S EDUCATIONAL THEORY AND PRACTICE. With an Introductory Note by J. S. MACKENZIE. London : George Allen & Unwin Ltd. 1909. Pp. xxi, 192. ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY BY J. S. MACKENZIE, UTT.D. (CAMB.), HON. LL.D. (GLASGOW); EMKKITL'S PROFESSOR OF LOGIC AND PHILOSOPHY IN UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, CARDIFF; FORMERLY FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE LONDON : GEORGE ALLEN & UNWIN LTD. NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY TO THE PAST AND PRESENT MEMBERS OF THE PHILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY IN UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, CARDIFF, -WITH PLEASANT MEMORIES AND HEARTY GOOD WISHES. (All rights reserved] PREFACE THIS book was undertaken more than a quarter of a century ago, and I have had it pretty constantly in mind during the period that has elapsed ; but difficulties of various kinds perhaps not all to be regretted have delayed its production. My primary object in writing it has been to clear up my own ideas on a number of fundamental problems. On many of them I still feel a good deal of uncertainty, but I can scarcely hope that that will ever be wholly removed ; and it is possible that the attempt that has here been made may be of some service to others, especially to those who are more nearly at the beginning of their studies. I have tried to meet the needs of such students by giving a considerable number of references to other books and articles in which particular topics are more fully discussed. In the course of the work I have sought to take account of all the important contributions that have been made to the subject, from what- ever quarter they might proceed ; but it is probable that there may be some degree of arbitrariness in my selection both of the problems to be considered and of the writers who have dealt with them. Believing as I do that some of the most fundamental problems are of interest to many who are not specialists in philosophy, I have endeavoured to avoid tech- nicalities, as far as possible, and to give a considerable number 'of simple illustrations ; and I have not hesitated, especially in the more speculative parts of the work, to refer to writers who cannot, in any strict sense, be described as philosophers. If this is an offence against the dignity of the subject, I must crave the indulgence of the more purely scientific reader. It will be observed that my treatment has been a good deal influenced by the writings of those who are commonly referred to as the New Realists. They have undoubtedly 2 PREFACE rendered a very valuable service in clearing away the last remains of the subjective bias by which modern philosophy, especially in our own country, has been so greatly perverted. It does not appear to me that their main contentions are in any way opposed to such an idealism as that of Plato ; and I doubt whether they are really opposed to that of Hegel, at least as interpreted by Edward Caird and Dr. Bosanquet. I think it is true, however, that almost all idealists have tended to express their meaning in language that lends itself too readily to a subjective interpretation. It has been one of my chief aims to guard against this tendency in my own statements ; but it is very possible that I may not have wholly succeeded. It has always seemed to me to be very difficult to deal satisfactorily with any special problems in philosophy without considering their bearings upon all the others ; and I have thus been forced, somewhat against my inclination, to attempt a survey of the subject as a whole. The problems to which I have given most attention are those that bear upon ethical conceptions and those that are connected with the subject of infinity, especially in its application to time. The general problem of time seems to me to be the most difficult in the whole range of philosophy, and I can hardly expect that my method of dealing with it will commend 1 itself to many minds ; but I trust it may at least help to stimulate others to more successful efforts. It is only by the co-operative thought of many that we may hope to reach the truth. The earlier parts of the book are introductory to the main subjects, and are somewhat more lightly handled. I have felt it to be necessary to deal, to some extent, with the fundamental conceptions of logic ; chiefly because they seem to me to have been a little obscured by a too psychological method of treatment. This applies, I think, even to the very careful and thorough work of Dr. Bosanquet, as well as to the thoughtful studies of Professor Dewey and his disciples. I have endeavoured to indicate the way in which the treatment of these conceptions is affected by a more realistic method of study. In connection with this I have laid special emphasis on the conception of objective order, which appears to me to be of the greatest importance. But my exposition of this, as well as of some PREFACE 3 other aspects of the subject, is necessarily of a somewhat sketchy character. It could only be fully dealt with in a. treatise specially devoted to logic. In view of the close approximation that is made by some recent philosophers in this country to the leading conceptions of Oriental speculation, I have thought it desirable to take some account of the relations between these different modes of thought. In doing this I have been greatly helped by a number of interesting communications that I have received from V. Subramanza Iyer, of Bangalore. I take this oppor- tunity of expressing to him my most hearty thanks. To another friend, also in India, my former student, Mr. G. H. Geach, now Principal of the Training College at Peshawar, I am indebted for many useful and stimulating comments on several of the problems that are dealt with. What I owe to other writers on philosophical subjects is probably sufficiently apparent and sufficiently acknowledged in the course of the work. My deepest thanks, however, are due to the Editor of the Library of Philosophy, Professor J. H. Muirhead, of Birming- ham, for his most valuable encouragement and help, both while the work has been passing through the press and pre- viously. He undertook the laborious task of reading it both before and after it appeared in proof, and his suggestions and criticisms have been of the greatest assistance. Whatever the defects of the book may be, they would have been very considerably greater without his generous co-operation. It should be added that some portions of this book have already been printed in Mind, the Encyclopedia of Religion and Ethics, and the Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society. I have to thank the respective Editors for permission to repro- duce the material, which has been considerably altered. Circumstances connected with the war have made it difficult for me to introduce as many improvements! as I could have wished while the book was passing through the press ; but I am conscious that it has many defects which it would hardly have been possible, in any case, to remove completely. August, 1917. CONTENTS INTRODUCTION PACK WHAT IS PHILOSOPHY ? . . . . .II i. General Definition. 2. Relations of Philosophy to Poetry and Religion. 3. Relations of Philosophy to the Special Sciences. 4. Relations to Psychology. 5. Relations to Logic. 6. Relations to Ethics. 7. Relations to Metaphysics. 8. General Aims of Philo- sophy. BOOK I GENERAL PROBLEMS OF KNOWLEDGE FROM DOUBT TO BELIEF CHAPTER I HOW TO BEGIN . . . . . . 2 7 I. Difficulty in making a Beginning. 2. Doubt as a Starting-point. De omnibus dubitandum est. 3. Consciousness as the First Certainty. 4. The Problem of Judgment. 5. Value of the Method of Descartes. CHAPTER II THE PROBLEM OF BELIEF .... -34 I. General Statement of the Problem. 2. Belief as Force ol Con- viction. 3. Belief and Action. 4. Belief and Apprehension. 5. Brentano's View of Belief. 6. Belief and Judgment. 7. Subjec- tive and Objective Aspects of Belief. CHAPTER III THE GENERAL NATURE OF CHOICE . . . 48 i. The Meaning of Choice. 2. Choice and Attention. 3. Interest 4. Valuation. 5. Choice and Belief. 5 6 CONTENTS CHAPTER IV PAOI THE PRIMARY IMPLICATIONS OF BELIEF . . . 56 I. The General Problem. 2. Existence of Independent Centres of Consciousness. 3. Cognition. 4. Subject and Object. 5. Subjective Order. 6. The Fact of Judgment. 7. Meanings. 8. Categories. 9. Valuation. 10. Laws of Thought. n. Implication. 12. Objective Order. 13. Truth and Reality. 14. Transition to Following Chapters. CHAPTER V THE IMPORT OF JUDGMENT . . . . .64 I. General Statement of the Problem. 2. The Meaning of Thought. 3. Universals. 4. Concepts and Judgments. 5. Relation between Language and Thought. 6. Explicit and Implicit Meaning. 7. Types of Judgment. 8. The Modality of Judgments. 9. Judgment and Inference. 10. Objective Order implied in Thought. CHAPTER VI LAWS OF THOUGHT . . . . . 80 I. Meaning of Laws of Thought. 2. Implications of Conception. 3. Implications of Judgment. 4. Implications of Inference. 5. Impli- cations of Belief. 6. Axioms. 7. Postulates. 8. Intuitive Belief. 9. Foundations of Logic. CHAPTER VII THE CONCEPTION OF OBJECTIVE ORDER .... Io6 I. The Meaning of Order. 2. Modes of Order : (i) Numerical Order ; (2) Temporal JOrder ; (3) Spatial Order ; (4) Order of Degrees ; (5) Qualitative Order ; (6) Order of Kinds ; (7) Causal Order ; (8) Order of Growth ; (9) Order of Consciousness ; (10) Order of Value ; (n) Moral Order ; (12) Logical Order. 3. Relations within Orders. 4. Relations between Orders. 5. Implications of Orders. 6. The Conception of a Cosmos. 7. The Conception of Chaos. 8. The Order of Experience or Existence. CHAPTER VIII TRUTH AND REALITY . . . . . . Il6 i. The Meaning of Truth and Falsehood. i. The Meaning of Correct- ness and Error. 3. Truth as Correspondence. 4. Degrees of Truth. 5. Truth as Coherence. 6. The Meaning of Reality : (i) Reality as Truth ; (2) Reality as Existence ; (3) Reality as Perfection ; (4) Reality as the Absolute or Eternal. 7. Possibility, Probability, and Necessity. 8. Non-being. 9. Degrees of Reality. CONTENTS 7 CHAPTER IX FAGB THE GENERAL NATURE OF KNOWLEDGE .... 128 i. The Meaning of Knowledge. 2. Explicit and Implicit Knowledge. 3. Individual and General Knowledge. 4. Intuitive Elements in Knowledge. 5. Elements of Intellectual Construction. 6. Elements of Faith. 7. General Structure of the World as Known. 8. Limits of Reasonable Doubt. 9. Absolute Knowledge and Knowledge of the Absolute. 10. Idealism and Realism. n. Pluralism and Cosmism. CHAPTER X THEORIES OF KNOWLEDGE ..... 144 I. Introductory Remarks. 2. The Doctrine of Representative Ideas. 3. The Cartesian Dualism. 4. Objective Idealism. 5. The Attitude of Locke. 6. Subjective Idealism. 7. The Scepticism of Hume. 8. Dualistic Realism. 9. The Critical Philosophy. 10. Agnosticism. ii. Pragmatism. 12. Intuitional Idealism. 13. The New Realism. 14. Absolute Idealism or Cosmism. 15. General Summary. BOOK II SPECIAL ASPECTS OF THE UNIVERSE AS KNOWN FROM NATURE TO SPIRIT CHAPTER I CATEGORIES . . . . . . .167 i. General Meaning of Categories. 2. Plato's Ideas or Forms. 3. Aristotle's Categories. 4. Kant's Categories. 5. Hegel's Dialectic. 6. More Recent Treatments of the Categories. 7. Summary about Categories. 8. Plan of the Succeeding Chapters. CHAPTER II QUALITATIVE CONCEPTIONS . . . . . .184 I. Quality and Kind. 2. Quality and Substance. 3. Primary and Secondary Qualities. 4. Tertiary Qualities. 5. Qualitative Continuity. CHAPTER III QUANTITATIVE CONCEPTIONS . . . . ^94 i. General Conception of Quantity. 2. Numerical Magnitude. 3. Numerical Expressions. 4. Qualitative Magnitude. 5. Intensive Magnitude. 6. Extensive Magnitude. 7. Protensive Magnitude. 8. Comparative View of Modes of Magnitude. 9. Finite and Infinite Magnitudes. 8 CONTENTS CHAPTER IV PAOX CAUSATION ........ 210 i. General Conception of Causation. 2. Aristotle's Four Causes. 3. Attractive and Repulsive Force. 4. Descartes' Theory of Causa- tion. 5. Berkeley's Theory of Causation. 6. Hume's Theory of Causation. 7. Kant's Theory of Causation. 8. Causation as Formal. 9. Chief Modes of Causal Relation. 10. Distinction between Cause and Effect. n. The Conception of the Self-caused. 12. Causation as a Mode of Unity in Difference. CHAPTER V MODES OF UNITY ....... 23! i. General Meaning of Unity. 2. The Meaning of " In." 3. The Unity of Members in a Class. 4. The Unity of Relations in an Order. 5. The Unity of Qualities in an Individual Object. 6. Mechanical Unity. 7. Chemical Unity. 8. Organic Unity. 9. The Unity of the Material System. 10. The Unity of Consciousness. u. Social Unity. 12. Spiritual Unity. 13. Cosmic Unity. 14. Relations between Modes of Unity. CHAPTER VI THE UNITY OF CONSCIOUSNESS ..... 246 I. General Nature of Consciousness. 2. Sense in which Things are in Consciousness. 3. Contemplation and Enjoyment. 4. Conscious- ness of Self. 5. Immediate and Mediate Apprehension. 6. Quantita- tive Aspects in Consciousness. 7. Attention. 8. The Nature of Feeling. 9. The Meaning of Interest. 10. Mental Activity. u. Faculties of Mind. 12. Stages of Conscious Growth. 13. Genetic Treatment of Psychology. 14. Mind and Body. 15. Personality. CHAPTER VII SOCIAL UNITY ....... 263 i. General Significance of Social Unity. 2. Egoism. 3. The Escape from Solipsism. 4. Consciousness of a World of Things. 5. Con- sciousness of other Conscious Beings. 6. Consciousness of a Group. 7. Social Psychology. 8. Social Significance of Education. 9. Mechanical, Organic, and Spiritual Aspects of Social Unity. 10. The Foundations of Sociology. CHAPTER VIII THE CONCEPTION OF VALUE ..... 277 I. Feeling as Valuation. 2. Qualities of Feeling. 3. Feeling-tone and Feeling-attitude. 4. The Social Element in Valuation. 5. The Transvaluation of Values. 6. Grounds of Valuation. 7. Objective Value. 8. Instrumental Value. 9. The Conception of Intrinsic Value. 10. The Unity of Values. n. Norms or Standards. 12. Normative Sciences. CONTENTS 9 CHAPTER IX PAGE THE PROBLEM OF FREEDOM ..... 295 i. The Connection of Choice with Value. 2. Implicate and Free Ideas. 3. The Meaning of Free Choice. 4. Contingency. 5. Self- determination. 6. Lower and Higher Selves. 7. The Subjectively Good and the Objectively Good. 8. Rational Choice. 9. The Possi- bility of Prediction. 10. The Relation of the Moral Judgment to Free Choice. ii. Causality and Freedom. 12. Freedom as an Ideal. CHAPTER X THE NATURE OF PERSONALITY . . . . -312 I. The Development of Individuality. 2. The Continuity of the Individual Self. 3. Individual Character. 4. Individual Self-assertion. 5. The Value of the Individual. 6. The Self and its Embodiment. 7. Embodiment in Extra-organic Objects. 8. Personal Immortality. 9. The Conception of the Super-personal. 10. The Personal Signi- ficance of Education. CHAPTER XI SPIRITUAL UNITY ....... 326 i. Universality of the Self. 2. Love. 3. Human Ideals. 4. The Conception of the Superhuman. 5. The General Will. 6. The Inter- pretation of Progress. 7. The Source of Moral Obligation. 8. The Significance of the Individual Life. 9. Corporate Immortality. 10. The Spiritual Significance of Education. ir. The Foundations of Ethics and Social Philosophy. BOOK III THE UNIVERSE AS A WHOLE-FROM CHAOS TO COSMOS CHAPTER I THE GENERAL STRUCTURE OF OUR UNIVERSE . . . 347 i. Transition to Cosmic Unity. 2. The Human Universe. 3. Uni- versals, Orders, and Particular Things. 4. A priori and a posteriori Aspects of the Phenomenal World. 5. The World in Space and Time. 6. General Characteristics of Space. 7. General Character- istics of Time. 8. The Physical System. 9. The Relations of Objects in the Physical System. 10. The Vital System. n. Teleology. 12. Is our Universe a Cosmos ? 13. The Province of the Empirical Sciences. 14. Alternatives to Cosmism. io CONTENTS CHAPTER II MM SOME ULTIMATE PROBLEMS ..... 372 I. General Survey. 2. The Problem of Contingency. 3. The Problem of Change. 4. The Problem of Evil. 5. The Good of Evil. 6. Tentative Solutions. Note on the Problem of Immortality. CHAPTER III THE FINITE AND THE INFINITE ..... 399 I. General Statement. 2. The Incompleteness of Universals. 3. The Indefiniteness of Instances. 4. The Infinity of Orders. 5. The Im- perfection of Individuals. 6. Mathematical Infinity. 7. Spatial Infinity. 8. Temporal Infinity. 9. Infinite Division. io. Infinite Approximations. n. Infinite Thought. 12. Infinite Attributes. 13. The Finitude of Existent Things. 14. Infinity and Freedom. 15. The Conception of Perfection. CHAPTER IV THE CONCEPTION OF A COSMOS ..... 429 i. The Possibility of a Self-explanatory System. 2. The Teleological Interpretation. 3. The Conception of God. 4. The Conception of the Absolute. 5. How the Perfect may Include the Imperfect. 6. Beyond Good and Evil. 7. The Relation of our Universe to the Cosmos. 8. The Interpretation of Human Life. 9. The Conception of Eternity. io. Solution of Some Ultimate Problems. Note on the Absolute and the Time Process. CONCLUSION GENERAL RESULTS ....... 464 I. Summary of Argument. 2. Hypothetical Character of the Results. 3. The Limits of Agnosticism. 4. The Right to Hope. 5. The Duty to Strive. 6. The Religious Aspect of Philosophy. 7. General Value of a Philosophical Construction. Note on Religions. INDEX .... 481 INTRODUCTION WHAT IS PHILOSOPHY? i . General Definition. To attempt to define Philosophy would be a somewhat futile undertaking. The term, like so many others, has been and still is used in a variety of senses, wider and narrower. ,We must content ourselves here with a brief explanation of the sense in which it seems most con- venient to understand it, having regard both to general usage and to the special purpose of the present book. As often happens, the original meaning of the name is not without significance, and may at least furnish us with a useful starting- point. Love of wisdom, or devotion to the pursuit of wisdom, seems to have been understood from the outset whoever may have been the first to use the term in this sense ' as imply- ing a certain distinction, on the one hand, from the claim to the possession of wisdom, and, on the other hand, from the cultivation of special forms of knowledge and skill. Even in the Homeric poems we find a contrast drawn between skill in the particular arts of life and that general insight into its most important problems which appears to be what we most properly understand by wisdom. If we ask more precisely what is to be understood by wisdom, .we find that it is com- monly taken to include certain kinds of knowledge, certain habits of action, and perhaps also certain dispositions of feeling ; and the term " philosophy " has been frequently employed in a sense that corresponds closely to this usage. The inclusion of action and feeling, as well as a certain kind of knowledge, in the implications of the word is probably due, to a large extent, to the influence of the Stoics, and especially the Roman Stoics, whose " wise man " was in general more eager for the cultivation of character and the control of passion and emotion than for the advancement of Pythagoras is generally supposed to have been the first who used it in this way. Cicero, who is perhaps not a very reliable authority, ascribes it to him. 12 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY science ; but the usage can be traced, in some degree, to Socrates and Plato, and probably a good deal farther back. 1 In popular discourse, to be philosophical often means little more than to have the feelings properly controlled by reason. Sometimes, indeed, it may even mean a kind of subjugation of the feelings that can hardly be described as rational. In technical treatises, however, philosophy is generally under- stood to mean a certain kind of more or less completely systematized knowledge or science ; and it may be well to make some attempt to determine at this point what that kind of knowledge is, though on the whole it is only through the actual work of philosophizing that we can hope to understand its essential nature. The kind of knowledge that we call scientific seems to have been acquired from the outset, and still is acquired, by two somewhat different types of people on the one hand, those who pursue it for the purpose of employing it to bring about certain definite results other than knowledge itself, and, on the other hand, those who value knowledge for its own sake, or at least whose interest in results is in those of a general and often remote kind, rather than in any particular things that can be immediately achieved. It is probably true that in early times there was a greater preponderance of the former type of inquirer than there is in our own time ; and those of the latter type formed, in consequence, a more select and homogeneous group. They tended to be all classed together as " wise men " or " lovers of wisdom," though the former at least of these designations may sometimes have been applied to people who belonged rather to the other type. At such a stage the distinction between ' philosophy and other kinds of theoretical knowledge could hardly be said to exist. The only important distinction was that between the theoretical sciences and the practical arts, and even this was not very finely drawn. Hence it is customary to reckon many early thinkers as philosophers whose main interests were rather in 1 With the Pythagoreans themselves philosophy seems to have been thought of as a way of life, no less than a way of thought. According to Liddell and Scott, however, it was only in the writings of the early Christians that this use of the term became definitely established. But, of course, they were largely influenced by the Stoics, especially Seneca. See Professor E. V. Arnold's Roman Stoicism, especially chapters xvi and xvii. WHAT IS PHILOSOPHY? 13 what we should now call mathematics, physics, chemistry, biology, astronomy, economics, or philology. The distinction between such sciences and philosophy is of later growth ; and it can hardly be said that even now the distinction has been quite definitely established. Hegel cast ridicule on the English usage which permitted such phrases as " dyeing the hair on philosophical principles," " philosophical instruments," and " the philosophical theory of free trade " ; and such a usage has now very largely disappeared among us, though we still have " Philosophical Transactions " and Chairs of " Natural Philosophy," where 'the term is used to describe work in the department of physics or in that of some of the other sciences of nature. But even when such specia 1 sciences have been excluded, it is not altogether easy to decename what properly belongs to the domain of philosophy. It is still generally regarded as including a number of special studies, such as Logic, Psychology, Metaphysics, Ethics, and Esthetics ; while some others, such as Sociology, Politics, Economics, and Paeda- gogics, are thought of as lying on its borders. Often, indeed, it is believed to consist simply in the sum of the first four or five of these studies ; while at other times it tends to be identified more particularly with metaphysics and ethics, or even to be confined to the former of these. What the exact claim of any of these sciences is to be regarded as specially philosophical, it would not be altogether easy to say. Some- times they are referred to as " subject-sciences," in contrast with those that are concerned with the objective world ; but it is not evident that logic or even metaphysics have much more to do with the subject than mathematics or physiology. What seems to be true is rather that the special sciences have been gradually separated off from philosophy, the last to leave being in general those whose exact province it is most difficult to determine and whose fundamental principles are most in need of discussion. The mathematical science? found their feet at a comparatively early stage ; and, thougi from time to time they have come into close contact with philosophy, their province has been generally recognized as distinct. The more purely observational or experimental sciences have also been separated off from a comparatively early stage. Those that call, like physics, for careful analysis i 4 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY of general principles have been later in gaining recognition as separate sciences ; and some other subjects, such as those that have already been referred to, continue to struggle, more or less acquiescently, under the aegis of philosophy. Reflec- tion on this line of development leads us to inquire what would be left for philosophy if all the special subjects of study were established on as independent a basis as that which has been gained by mathematics or astronomy. A partial answer is found in the fact that the special sciences are not altogether independent, and indeed that their inter- dependence becomes more apparent as they develop. The biological sciences could not make much progress without chemistry ; chemistry needs the help of physics ; astronomy calls for the assistance of them both ; and physics and astronomy are in the highest degree dependent on mathe- matics. It would seem, therefore, that some study of the co-ordination of the sciences and of the general principles on which they rest is called for, in addition to the special sciences themselves. This is no doubt even more emphatically true of those sciences that are commonly classed as philosophical than of those that are concerned with particular departments of what is called nature. Thus a provisional answer may be given to the question that has been 'suggested by saying that, even if each of the special departments of knowledge were established on an independent basis, there would still be a place left for the study of the general principles upon which they rest and their points of contact with one another. But there is another consideration that has now to be taken into account. We have already noticed that wisdom is generally regarded as something more than knowledge, and that philosophy, as the pursuit of wisdom, has tended to be understood in a similarly extended meaning. The reason of this is not hard to see. It is probably true to say that all knowledge was at first valued for the guidance of action and, in a less degree, for the satisfaction of feeling ; and it continues to be valued, though in a more indirect way, for the same reasons. The saying that " knowledge is power " specially associated with the names of Bacon and Hobbes has sometimes been pressed in a rather narrow way, as if WHAT IS PHILOSOPHY? 15 knowledge were only to be valued for its immediate practical results. Macaulay commended the philosophy of Bacon, in this sense, as contrasted with that of Plato. Against any such contention it is rightly urged that knowledge is valued for its own sake. At the same time, the view that knowledge is for the sake of knowledge, like the similar view that art is for the sake of art, is subject to some qualification. Some kinds of knowledge are valued more than others, just as some kinds of art are valued more than others ; and the reason is not simply the degree in which the one is cognitive and the other artistic. Both are valued, to some extent, on account of their general bearings on life. These bearings are, however, often of a very indirect kind ; and those who are pursuing knowledge or art are generally well advised to forget, or at least not to think in any very definite way about, any other object than that of gaining knowledge or pro- ducing a work of art. But there are limits to such forget - fulness ; and these appear, in general, most clearly just when the nature of the work is most unlimited. It is chiefly in the pursuit of the smaller details of knowledge and the more trivial forms of art that it is well not to raise the question whether the objects have any use beyond the satisfaction of discovering or creating them. The larger gains of know- ledge and the larger creations of art have nearly always a very obvious value in the help that they give or the light that they throw upon the general conduct of life. Now, the kind of knowledge at which philosophy 'aims, however imper- fectly it may be achieved, belongs essentially to this larger type. It is not with the ascertainment of particular facts that it is concerned, but with the gaining of a true insight into the general structure of the universe and man's relations to it. Such knowledge is difficult to gain ; and the results of the pursuit of it, regarded simply as knowledge, must often be described as very meagre and imperfect. Its value is often to be found, not so much in any actual discovery that is made as in the general outlook upon human life that is gained in its pursuit. 2. Relations of Philosophy to Poetry and Religion. It is for this reason that philosophy is sometimes specially 16 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY associated with poetry and religion. The great religions of the world express, in general, the efforts of the human spirit to grasp the nature of the universe, to understand man's true place in it, to realize the kind of conduct and the general attitude of thought and feeling that befits that place, and to find the most suitable means for the cultivation of such modes of thought, feeling, and action. The knowledge that is summed up in creeds is often vague, figurative, and im- perfect. Its value is rather in what it suggests than in what it definitely conveys. But it is one of the means by which men gain an outlook on life, by which they can feel that they are citizens of the universe, not aliens or outlaws in the world in which they have to carry on their being. The higher kinds of poetry also serve a similar purpose. They do not, like religion, crystallize their insight into definite creeds, or apply it directly to the guidance of conduct. But they also try, in their own special way, to enable us to " see life steadily and see it whole," in its complex relations to the universe that we inhabit. They may, then, be said to aim at the same kind of insight as that which philosophy seeks to gain. But philosophy pursues this kind of insight in a different way. The suggestions both of poetry and of religion are commonly described by the term " inspiration." They are felt to be true, rather than definitely thought out or rigorously established. And, in being thus conveyed and accepted, they are well within their rights. One impulse from a vernal wood May teach you more of man, Of moral evil and of t .">od, Than all the sages can. " Wisdom is justified of all her children " ; but the " sages " also have their place. They seek for definite knowledge and exact methods of proof. They seek to know, as we say, in a " scientific " way. They suspect everything that is only a vague suggestion as being probably only half true ; and they are anxious to know the whole truth, in so far as it is dis- coverable. But the truth that they seek is the same kind of truth as that which is aimed at by the higher forms of poetry and religion. It is truth about the general structure WHAT IS PHILOSOPHY? 17 of the universe and man's relations to it ; and hence it is a kind of truth that has a very direct bearing upon life. It is truth about what man is, and about the way in which he ought to act and feel. It should, no doubt, be added that, just because poetry, religion, and philosophy, in their highest expressions, are essen- tially aiming at the same thing in different ways, they are rather apt to come into conflict with one another. Plato refers, in the Republic, 1 to an " old feud between poetry and philosophy." It would seem, however, that the feud to which he refers was primarily one between the religious ideas expressed in the early Greek poetry and the somewhat materialistic tendencies of the scientific thinkers of Greece, before any very definite distinction had been drawn between science and philosophy. In the writings of Plato himself one is seldom conscious of any such antagonism ; and there are probably few modern poets and few modern religious teachers who would not confess that they owe some of their deepest convictions and happiest inspirations to the writings of Plato. And probably what they owe to him unconsciously is even greater than what they are aware of. How far there is any ultimate antagonism between poetry, religion, and philosophy, will, it is hoped, become more apparent as we proceed. 3. Relations of Philosophy to the Special Sciences. If we accept this view of the general nature of philosophy, we shall be better able to understand how it is related to the particular sciences, including those that are commonly re- garded as specially philosophical sciences. The distinctions between the sciences are, to a certain extent, artificial. All knowledge is knowledge about the universe ; but the universe is so vast that we can only learn about it bit by bit. And the bits that it is found convenient to break off are not all of the same size. Some of the sciences, such as geology, 1 Book X. Many writers on Plato have dealt instructively with this subject. Perhaps the books by J. Adam on The Religious Teachers of Greece (especially Lecture I, but also pp. 401-4) and by Professor J. A. Stewart on The Myths of Plato may be more particularly referred to. It seems probable that the "feud" was one of which Plato was conscious within himself, as no doubt many people at the present time are. 2 i8 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY are concerned with a definitely limited range of objects : others, such as mathematics, deal with principles that can be applied to almost any object. Again, some of them, such as astronomy, have to do with objects that have very little direct bearing upon the conduct of human life : others, such as physiology or economics, are much more directly concerned with it. Now, it would seem that, in general, the wider the range of any subject is, and the more directly it bears upon life, the more nearly is it allied to philosophy. Hence some sciences are rightly regarded as more philosophical than others . Yet it is probably desirable to distinguish philosophy even from those sciences that are most closely related to it ; and it will be well to try to make this distinction clear. The subjects that are most commonly regarded as specially philosophical are Psychology, Logic, Ethics, and Metaphysics ; and it may suffice for our present purpose to make a few remarks about these. 4. Relations to Psychology. The consideration of psychology is specially valuable as an indication of the distinction between a particular science and philosophy. Psychology has a definite subject-matter, just as physics and mathematics have. In each case there are some problems involved that bear upon the general structure of the universe. In mathematics there are the problems of space and of the general significance of number and quantity. In physics there are the problems of matter and energy. In psychology there are the general problems of the relations between mind and body, the nature and validity of various forms of cognition, the significance of activity and feeling. What entitles us to regard psychology as a more definitely philosophical science than mathematics or physics is, on the one hand, that the fundamental problems that arise in it are more numerous, that they raise on the whole issues of a more far-reaching kind, that the whole treatment of the subject is more directly dependent on their solution ; and, on the other hand, that it has a more distinct bearing on the nature and conduct of human life. For these reasons, it can hardly be separated altogether from philosophy. Yet the detailed facts with which it is concerned e.g. the analysis of the emotions, the [WHAT IS PHILOSOPHY? 19 different stages of mental development, the growth of the apprehension of space and time, the inter-actions of the various elements in conscious life form the subject-matter of a science as definitely marked off as physics, and not much more intimately concerned with those larger problems that belong properly to philosophy. 1 5. Relations to Logic. The case of logic is different. Its exact province is not as clearly defined. It is some- times treated as if it were concerned with the general theory of knowledge. The logical and the psychological treatments of the theory of judgment, and some other questions that arise in its study, are not always definitely distinguished. Sometimes it is regarded as being mainly concerned with the various methods by which truth is sought, and sometimes as having to do mainly with the implications of conceptions and judgments. The last is probably the most definite province that can be assigned to it. It includes all that is commonly dealt with in treatises on the subject, with the exception of scientific methods and of those problems that belong pretty obviously to psychology or the general theory of knowledge. Methodology is perhaps best regarded as one of its pendants. Now, the general problem of implication seems to be clearly philosophical. The discussion, for instance, in Hegel's Logic of the ways in which such con- ceptions as those of Being, Number, Substance, etc., imply others, and the exhibition of the whole network of implica- tions that is there given as being involved in our conceptual view of the world, are in a high degree philosophical. Such a treatment forms the basis for a general theory of the universe. Such a consideration of ultimate conceptions, how- ever, is perhaps rather to be described as metaphysical than as logical, in the more specific sense of the term. The implications of ordinary discourse and of the terms used in the particular sciences can be dealt with in an instructive way without raising issues of so far-reaching a character ; and to do this seems to be the appropriate province of logic, so far as it can be regarded as a special science. On the whole, however, it must be recognized that such a science 1 For further remarks on Psychology, see Book II, Chapter VI. 20 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY would be even harder to separate from philosophy than psychology is. 1 6. Relations to Ethics. The case of ethics is, in the main, similar to that of logic. These two subjects are frequently grouped along with aesthetics as being, in a special sense, normative. What is meant by this is that they are concerned with certain large guiding conceptions. Logic has to do with the validity of implications ; and ethics and aesthetics with the types of value that are expressed by the terms Good and Beautiful. How far it is right to regard these three subjects as marked off in this way from other sciences, we cannot at present discuss. But, at any rate, it seems clear that they are more directly concerned with the consideration of ideal standards than other sciences are. Now, just as the general problem of implication belongs to philosophy, it is no less apparent that the general considera- tion of the significance of the conceptions of goodness and beauty is of a philosophical character. Ethics may, indeed, be said to be the most definitely philosophical of the three. This would of course be more particularly the case if we were to hold, with Plato, that the Good is the most funda- mental conception for the interpretation of the universe. But, without at present raising that question, it seems clear at least that the study of ethics has a more direct bearing than either of the others on the general conduct of life ; and is, in that sense, more philosophical, in the sense in which we are here interpreting the term. Here also, however, it is true that a number of detailed problems arise in the study of the subject which make it convenient to treat it as a special science, and which can to some extent be discussed without definitely deciding those larger issues that belong properly to philosophy. But the greater part of the study of ethics must be regarded as distinctly philosophical. 2 7. Relations to Metaphysics. And now, what are we to say of metaphysics? Is it also to be regarded as a special 1 The general nature of Logic is dealt vvithjn subsequent chapters, especially Book I, Chapters V and VI. 3 On the general foundations of Ethics, see Book II, especially Chapters VIII and IX. WHAT IS PHILOSOPHY? 21 science, or is it only another name for philosophy in general? It would seem that the special problems of metaphysics are those relating to the general nature of knowledge, the funda- mental conceptions that are involved in it, and especially the theory of reality. All these problems are philosophical. Yet, if the meaning of philosophy has been rightly indicated, there appears to be a certain distinction between the two subjects. Many of the problems of metaphysics can be dis- cussed without forming any definite theory of the nature of the universe as a whole or of man's place in it. It might, indeed, be held that philosophy, as here understood, forms the last part of metaphysics. It might be said that we have to deal, in metaphysics, first of all with the general problem of knowledge and its fundamental conceptions, then with the special problem of reality in its various applications, and finally with the structure of the universe as a whole and man's relations to it. But metaphysics tends to be regarded as more particularly concerned with the second of these problems. There are some grounds for regarding the general theory of knowledge as a distinct subject. Kant, who despaired of metaphysics, did not despair of the doctrine of knowledge. There are some grounds also for regarding philosophy, as here understood, as being distinguishable from metaphysics. There have been philosophers who could hardly be called metaphysicians, such as Socrates and Comte. It would hardly be possible to find a metaphysician who was not a philosopher ; yet a pure dialectician, such as Zeno, might be said to approximate to this anomaly. 1 1 The term Metaphysics does not, by itself, convey any definite meaning. Originally it referred simply to the order of some of the writings of Aristotle. Afterwards it was taken to denote those considerations that follow naturally upon the treatment of the physical sciences. As studied in modern times, especially in Germany, it includes the general doctrine of knowledge, commonly known as Epistemology or Erkenntntstheorie ; the discussion of fundamental concepts, as in Kant's Transcendental Logic, the Logic of Hegel, Meinong's Gegcnstandstheorie, or Driesch's Ordnungslehre ; the consideration of the meaning of Truth and Reality, and especially of the distinction between Appearance and Reality, as in Mr. Bradley's Appearance and Reality and Essays on Truth and Reality ; and the attempt to deal with the general structure of the Universe. Many of the following chapters are metaphysical, especially the later ones in Book I, the earlier in Book II, and the whole of Book III. On the general problems of Metaphysics, reference may be made to Professor Taylor's Elements of Metaphysics and to the article " Metaphysics" by Edward Caird in the ninth edition of the Encyclopedia Britannica (reprinted in his 22 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY These remarks may at least serve to indicate the sense in which philosophy is here understood. If it is not the sense in which it is always taken, it is at least one that includes most of what is generally understood by the term. It includes, for instance, all the work of Plato, who is generally recognized as the most representative among philosophers. Most of the work of Aristotle is concerned with particular sciences, including those that are commonly grouped as philosophical, but including also several that are not so regarded. In the work of Plato also there are parts that may be said to be specially psychological, specially logical, specially metaphysical, specially ethical, specially cosmological, specially political, specially educational ; but, with the possible exceptions of the Parmenides and the Laws, and perhaps one or two others, it can hardly be said that he is ever concerned exclusively with any of these subjects. His subject is nearly always the universe and man's place in it, and so he is nearly always dealing with philosophy as here understood. The same is on the whole true of another typical philosopher, Spinoza. He called his chief work Ethica ; but it is not concerned with ethics, in the sense in which ethics is a special science. It also, like most of the work of Plato, is concerned with the universe and man's place in it. This is not so conspicuously true of many other philosophers. Many are more akin to Aristotle than to Plato. But Aristotle, though philosophical in comprehensiveness and depth, is on the whole a type of the scientific man, rather than of the philosopher. This distinction is one that is pretty clearly marked, and indeed pretty generally recognized. The use of the term " philosophy " that is here suggested would thus appear to be well supported. 8. General 'Aims of Philosophy. Regarded in the way that has now been indicated, philosophy has to take account of the general results of the investigations of all the other sciences, but especially of those sciences that are concerned Essays in Philosophy). Philosophy is sometimes understood to mean simply the discussion of purely metaphysical problems. The term seems to be so used, for instance, in Mr. Russell's Problems of Philosophy and in his book on Our Knowledge of the External World. Thus regarded, philosophy becomes one of the special sciences, or perhaps even two or three distinguishable sciences. WHAT IS PHILOSOPHY? 23 with the most fundamental issues ; and, on the basis of these results, it is its special task to endeavour to construct a general theory of the universe, and especially of the place of human life in it. In this enterprise, it is mainly dependent on metaphysics, but to a considerable extent also on logic and psychology ; while, on the other hand, ethics and aesthetics are largely dependent on it. Philosophy, thus conceived, is certainly in some respects the most difficult of all subjects to deal with in an adequate way ; for it is nothing if not complete, and yet it can hardly be completed without a considerable degree of completion in many other subjects as well. To some extent, no doubt, there is a similar difficulty in other subjects e.g. in astronomy ; but it is certainly most acute in the case of philosophy. Other subjects, even when they are very im- perfectly developed, have at least accumulated a certain amount of material ; but the accumulation of material could hardly be of any value for philosophy. It is chiefly for this reason that philosophy is naturally studied in a historical way. There is, no doubt, some interest in the historical study of all the sciences. The methods by which discoveries have been made throw light on the possibilities of future advance ; and there is often a personal interest in the labours of scientific workers. But, on the whole, it is true in most subjects that the results can be seen without their historical setting ; and this is true of the philosophical sciences almost as fully as of any others. But it is not in the same degree true of philosophy, in the sense in which the term is here understood. This is one of the respects in which philosophy has to be classed with poetry, rather than with the sciences. As poetry is only to be found in the works of the poets, so philosophy is only to be found in those of the philosophers . It is not a result that can be extracted and stored : it is rather a fine essence that evaporates as soon as it is separated from the process by which it is produced. Hence there is a certain individuality in philosophic work. Philosophy means the insight of Plato or Aristotle, Spinoza or Hegel, into the general structure of the universe and the significance of human life ; and it can only be properly appreciated in relation to the whole way of thinking of these individuals, This is not 24 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY really a defect in it. It is involved in the essential nature of the subject. Hegel said that the complaint that there is no philosophy, but only philosophies, is like the complaint that there is no fruit, but only fruits. Apples, pears, and plums are all fruit, though they are all somewhat different. This, however, is not an analogy that should be pressed too far. Philosophic fruits are not altogether isolated. Philo- sophers take account of one another as, indeed, poets and artists also do and the subject grows through their inter- actions. But it is mainly in this way that it develops. Other subjects may be built up like a house, stone upon stone. Philosophy can only grow like a tree, or like a state ; and perhaps the ideal philosophy, like the ideal state, must always remain a Utopia. But yet it moves. It is my object in what follows to try to indicate what appear to be the main problems that are definitely philosophical, and the methods by which they can be investigated with most hope of success. In doing this, I shall consider myself entitled to make use of any results that have been achieved by other sciences, and to deal with problems that may belong properly to other sciences, when- ever this appears to be necessary for the purpose in view. There are no absolute boundaries in human knowledge. The little god Terminus is not here in power. At the same time, it is of considerable importance that we should proceed in an orderly manner. Hence it seems desirable to consider, first of all, what is the proper starting-point in philosophy. 1 ' Further remarks on the general aims and value of philosophy will be found in the concluding chapter ; and those who wish to pursue the subject farther may be referred to such works as that of Professor Hoffding on The Problems of Philosophy, the Outlines of Philosophy by Professor J. Watson, or the Introductions to Philosophy by Paulsen, Kiilpe, and others. Mr. Russell, in The Problems of Philosophy, deals with the subject in a more limited way. He seems practically to identify it with what Aristotle called first philosophy, i.e. with pure metaphysics ; but he would not agree with Aristotle's identification of this with theology. BOOK I GENERAL PROBLEMS OF KNOWLEDGE- FROM DOUBT TO BELIEF CHAPTER I HOW TO BEGIN i. Difficulty in making a Beginning. Beginnings are pro- verbially hard ; and it is obvious that there must be a special difficulty in opening up a subject that aims at nothing less than insight into the general structure of the universe. But we are not without guidance from methods that have been adopted in the past. Probably the most enlightening attempts in this direction are those that were made by Descartes and by Hegel respectively. The Hegelian philosophy sets out with the simple conception of Being, and proceeds to deduce dialectically from this the other fundamental conceptions that are involved in our knowledge of the world. The value of this dialectic method we cannot at present consider. Jt seems clear, however, that the adoption of such a. method requires a good deal of previous justification. It might even be said that it can only be justified by a consideration of the whole course of development of philosophic thought up to the time of Hegel. The starting-point of Descartes is very much simpler ; and some discussion of it may help us to get into the heart of our subject. 1 2. Doubt as a Starting-point. De omnibus dubitandum est. It is of course true in philosophy, as in other -things, that progress in knowledge depends on our doubting the validity or sufficiency of what is already known. To realize our ignorance is the first step towards knowledge ; and, the more .comprehensive is the kind of knowledge that we seek, the greater must be our initial consciousness of ignorance. In 1 On the relation between Hegel's starting-point and that of Descartes, reference may be made to Dr. McTaggart's Studies in Hegelian Dialectic, p. 21 ; though I believe the relation is not quite as close as he seems to suggest. See also below, Book I, Chapter X, and Book II, Chapter I. vj 28 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY setting out to know about the universe, we must at first be in uncertainty whether there is any universe that is or can be known. A certain scepticism or agnosticism must be the beginning of philosophy, though we may hope that it need not be its end. Descartes did a great service in emphasizing this. At the same time, there is some exaggeration in the extreme emphasis that Descartes laid upon doubt ; just as there was also some exaggeration perhaps in both cases an intentional exaggeration in the profession of ignorance on the part of Socrates. To know one's own ignorance is already to know a good deal ; and to be sure what can be doubted is to have a pretty large assurance. Doubt, as is now generally recognized, is a form of belief. 1 It is the belief that some assertion is not certainly true ; and this belief, like any other, may turn out to be erroneous. To determine the legitimacy of any form of doubt, we must have some criterion of certainty, some ideal of perfect knowledge. Some forms of scepticism and agnosticism are distinctly dogmatic : Ephecticus acatalepsian dogmatizavit. Accord- ingly, we find that the attitude of Descartes was conditioned by his ideal of knowledge, just as that of Socrates was ; and in both cases, it would seem, the ideal was of a somewhat mathematical type. Descartes at least sought to have the same kind of certainty with regard to the fundamental problems of reality that he might have with regard to a simple mathematical proposition, such as that 2 -f- 2 = 4, or that a three -sided figure has three angles. Whatever is 1 Mill, in his Examination of Sir William Hamilton (p. 133), denied this ; contending that doubt is a purely negative attitude. But it seems clear that doubt is not properly regarded as meaning simply abstinence from belief. We may apprehend the meaning of a proposition, such as that Sir Philip Francis was " Junius," or that there are inhabitants on the planet Mars, without either believing, disbelieving, or doubting it. Our attitude is then a quite negative or colourless one, so far as belief is concerned. There may be an absence of belief, just as there may be an absence of colour ; but, just as grey is not absence of light experience, so doubt is not absence of the believing attitude. It arises when we have enough interest in a suggested judgment to lead us to wish to know whether it is to be believed or disbelieved, but have not sufficient ground for determining whether it is to be believed or disbelieved. Similarly, between the attitudes of choosing or rejecting a particular line of action, there is the attitude of hesitancy, which is different from the purely negative one of indifference. The man who is in doubt whether to vote for or against a motion is in a different position from one who does not care to vote at all. HOW TO BEGIN 29 not evident in this way, is to be treated as doubtful, or even provisionally set aside as false. Now, one may doubt the validity of such a doubt. That red is different from blue, is no more doubtful than that 2-4-2 = 4; but it is a truth of a different kind, and rests on a different kind of evidence. It is too sweeping to set aside everything that is not clear in the same sense in which a mathematical proposi- tion is clear ; and the whole procedure of Descartes was somewhat vitiated by this assumption. It is noteworthy that the theoretical doubt of Descartes perhaps again not unlike that of Socrates was associated with a certain absence of doubt in matters of practice. This was partly of the nature of a temporary expedient ; but it had also a deeper significance. As a temporary expedient, it is of course little more than a dictate of common sense. It is no doubt true on the whole that we must, eat bread and drink water, and even pay our taxes, however uncertain we may be about the composition of the former or the justice of the latter, or the essential value of any of them ; whereas we need not accept mathematical propositions unless and until they can be rigorously proved. But the pragma tists have done some service in urging that the distinction between theory and practice is not of so sharp a kind as this might seem to imply. Even with bread and water, so long as we are uncertain about their composition, it is well to be sparing in their use ; and if the principles of taxation are not clear, it is at least open to us to grumble. On the other hand, it would be somewhat absurd to doubt that there was such a person as Napoleon, though we might find it hard to give any rigorous proof of his existence. Beliefs, whether of a purely theoretical kind or of the kind that serves as a founda- tion for action, have often to be accepted in a tentative way ; and this may be true even about beliefs with regard to the universe. They should no doubt, in that case, be somewhat lightly held ; and we should try to find some firmer founda- tion for them. But it would be rash to assume that we can find a method that will bring us at once to any full assurance ; and, short of this, it would seem to be unwise to regard every opinion as equally doubtful. It seems right to recognize at least that there are degrees of belief. But this is a 30 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY question that we shall have to discuss later. 1 In the mean- time, we have only to note that Descartes, at any rate, guided by a quasi-mathematical method, was eager to proceed at once to some ultimate certainties about the universe. It is almost inevitable that this should be a besetting sin in philosophy. The earliest thinkers among the Greeks fixed on certain principles, such as water or air, or, at a later time, permanence or change or number ; and sought to find the key to everything by means of these conceptions. The doubt of Socrates was largely occasioned by their haste. Others, in later times, have been hardly less hasty in their assumption of principles ; and it can hardly be denied that, in modern times, Descartes was one of the first offenders in this direction. His extreme doubt passed rather suddenly to an extreme dogmatism ; and we have now to notice what was the foundation of his constructive effort. 3. Consciousness as the First Certainty. Cogito ergo sum. This is the statement that we have to try to interpret. The general meaning of it is obvious enough. .What Descartes found was that, however far he might press his doubts, it was at least impossible for him to doubt that he doubted ; and, as soon as I am certain that I doubt, I am certain also that I who doubt exist. The point is that this is a truth which I am bound to entertain, not merely with a certain degree of belief, but with the same kind of absolute certainty as that which belongs to the most simple and self-evident of mathematical propositions. Now, it is of great importance to see quite clearly what it is that is, in this absolute sense, certain. It certainly seems obvious that I cannot doubt the general fact of my individual cognition the fact that some object is apprehended by some being that I refer to as "I." But Descartes at once proceeds farther to the statement that this " I " exists as a " thinking thing," which persists, which is more clearly and certainly apprehended than any- thing else, and which may consequently be taken as the basis for a general doctrine of reality. It is here that he seems to proceed too fast, as his own followers especially Male- ' See Chapters VIII and IX. HOW TO BEGIN 31 branche and Spinoza 'recognized. When I apprehend that this flower is blue, I cannot really doubt either the " I " or the " apprehension " or the " this " or the " flower " or the " blueness," but what exactly any of these is, and how far any of them persists as a separate existence, is not yet determined. Hence, instead of following the thought of Descartes any farther from this point, it will be best to turn back and try to ascertain what is the real significance of the affirmation that I cannot doubt that I doubt. 4. The Problem of Judgment. The first thing that has to be noted here, is, that what it is affirmed that I cannot doubt is a judgment. Now, it is well to recognize at once that the only things that we can doubt are judgments. Any simple experience that we have, such as pain or joy or a colour or a sound or a tree, cannot really be doubted. We can only doubt some judgments that we form with reference to these experiences such' as : This pain is severe, This joy persists, This colour is green, This is the sound of thunder, This is an apple-tree. Any judgment may be either true or false ; and it seems clear that a judgment is the only thing that can be either true or false, in the strictest sense of these terms. Now, what may be either true or false can, in general, be either believed or disbelieved, or regarded as more or less doubtful. The contention of Descartes, however, is that there is one kind of judgment that can only be believed, not disbelieved or doubted viz. the judgment " I am thinking " ; and this appears to involve three things : '* I," " thinking," and " am," which are here bound together in essential unity. What is the exact signifi- cance of this analysis and this unity? And in what sense is this judgment incapable of being doubted? Obviously, there is no particular point in laying emphasis on the particular statement, that I cannot doubt that I doubt ; for, if I believed, instead of doubting, it would be equally impossible 1 Malebranche denied that we have any clear idea of Self ; and Spinoza urged that the Self is not to be regarded as an independently existent Substance. The more sweeping doubts of Hume need not be considered at this point. For some discussion of the substantiality of the individual Self, see below, especially Book II, Chapters VI, X, and XI. For further reference to the followers of Descartes, see Chapter X. 2 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY for me to doubt that I believed. It is best, therefore, to concentrate our attention upon the believing attitude in general, which may be taken as including belief, disbelief, and doubt. The contention then is, that what cannot be doubted is the existence of a certain believing attitude at a certain moment in an individual experience. 5. Value of the 'Method of Descartes. Now, whatever we may think of the subsequent speculations of Descartes, 1 it certainly does appear that he brings out at this point something that has fundamental importance, and that may very well serve as a starting-point in philosophical inquiry. For, however we may interpret the ultimate problems of philosophy, it is evident at least that they all circle round the question of belief. We desire to ascertain what we are entitled to believe with regard to the general structure of the universe, and especially with regard to the place of human life in it. Nothing could well be more fundamental for this purpose than to find out what is the essential nature of belief, what are the grounds on which it rests, and what are its implications. That the general fact of believing is certain, gives us a firm basis to begin with ; and we may take this as being the primary contribution that Descartes made to our study. Accordingly, we now proceed to ask, What is the general nature of the believing attitude? In view of what has already been stated, we need not much concern ourselves with the question, whether this inquiry belongs most properly to psychology, or logic, or theory of knowledge, or metaphysics. It is enough for our purpose that it is one of the most fundamental problems that we have to consider, and that it is the one that naturally presents itself at the very outset. It may very well be that, in discussing it, we shall be led into other problems that are no less fundamental. If so, we must try to take them up in the order in which they present themselves, and to deal with' them by any methods that are available. We are dealing with the most fundamental ' For further criticism of the procedure of Descartes, reference may be made to Caird's article " Cartesianism " in the ninth edition of the Encyclopedia Britannica (reproduced in his Essays in Literature and Philosophy, vol. ii) ; also to Kuno Fischer's book on Descartes and his School and to the Histories of Modern Philosophy by Adamson, Hoffding, and others. HOW TO BEGIN 33 problems, and we can hardly hope for any extraneous guidance as to the best methods of procedure. We must go, as Plato used to say, where the argument leads. It will be well, however, to bear in mind, from point to point, any relevant considerations that can be gleaned from the historical development of philosophic thought, whether they come to us in the guise of psychology or logic or theory of know- ledge or metaphysics, or In any other way. CHAPTER II THE PROBLEM OF BELIEF i. General Statement of the Problem. The first writer who laid definite emphasis on the problem of belief was David Hume. It presented special difficulties to him, on account of his atomic theory of die facts of consciousness. 1 If the mind is simply a collection of separate impressions arid ideas, how are we to account for the difference between believing and disbelieving them? This was the way in which the problem presented itself to him ; and, though this is no longer the way in which it naturally presents itself to us, it is still worth while to take note of the manner in which he attempted to solve it. By presenting the difficulty in an extreme form, we may be better able to see the real nature of the problem. Accordingly, I will begin by quoting some of Hume's statements. 14 This operation of the mind," he says, " which forms the belief of any matter of fact, seems hitherto to have been one of the greatest mysteries of philosophy, tho' no one has so much as suspected, that there was any difficulty in explaining it. For my part I must own, that I find a consider- able difficulty in the case ; and that even when I think I understand the subject perfectly, I am at a loss for terms to express my meaning. I conclude, by an induction which seems to me very evident, that an opinion or belief is nothing but an idea, that is different from a fiction, not in the nature, or the order of its parts, but in the manner of its being con- ceived. But when I would explain this manner, I scarce find any word that fully answers the case, but am obliged to have recourse to every one's feeling, in order to give him a perfect notion of this operation of the mind. An idea ' See below, Chapter X, 7, and Book II Chapter II, 5. 34 THE PROBLEM OF BELIEF 35 assented to feels different from a fictitious idea, that the fancy alone presents to us : and this different feeling I endeavour to explain by calling it a superior force, or vivacity, or solidity, or firmness, or steadiness. This variety of terms, which may seem so unphilosophical, is intended only to express that act of the mind, which renders realities more present to us than fictions, causes them to weigh more in the thought, and gives them a superior influence on the passions and imagination. Provided we agree about the thing, 'tis needless to dispute about the terms. The imagina- tion has the command over all its ideas, and can join, and mix, and vary them in all the ways possible. It may conceive objects with all the circumstances of place and time. It may set them, in a manner, before our eyes in their true colours, just as they might have existed. But as it is im- possible that that faculty can ever, of itself, reach belief, 'tis evident, that belief consists not in the nature and order of our ideas, but in the manner of their conception, and in their feeling to the mind. I confess, that 'tis impossible to explain perfectly this feeling or manner of conception. We may make use of words, that express something near it. But its true and proper name is belief, which is a term that every one sufficiently understands in common life. And in philosophy we can go no farther, than assert, that it is something felt by the mind, which distinguishes the ideas of the judgment from the fictions of the imagination. It gives them more force and influence ; makes them appear of greater importance ; infixes them in the mind ; and renders them the governing principles of all our actions." " An opinion, therefore," he concludes, " or belief may be most accurately defined : A lively idea related to or associated with a present impression." This definition," he proceeds, " will also be found to be entirely conformable to every one's feeling and experience. Nothing is more evident, than that those ideas, to which we assent, are more strong, firm and vivid, than the loose reveries of a castle-builder. If one person sits down to read a book as a romance, and another as a true history, they plainly receive the same ideas, and in the same order ; nor does the incredulity of the one, and the belief of the other hinder 36 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY them from putting the very same sense upon their author. His words produce the same ideas in both ; tho' his testimony has not the same influence on them. The latter has a more lively conception of all the incidents. He enters deeper into the concerns of the persons : represents to him- self their actions, and characters, and friendships, and enmities : he even goes so far as to form a notion of their features, and air, and person. While the former, who gives no credit to the testimony of the author, has a more faint and languid conception of all these particulars ; and except on account of the style and ingenuity of the composition, can receive little entertainment from it." * It is noteworthy that the terms employed by Hume to characterize belief fall into three distinct groups. The first group consists of terms expressive simply of intensity or strength force, vivacity. The second consists of expressions relating to a certain tendency to action influence, importance, governing principles. The third consists of expressions con- taining some reference to persistence solidity, firmness, steadiness, infixing in the mind. These three methods of characterization are very different ; and perhaps some con- sideration of each of them may help us to gain a better insight into the difficulties of the problem. 2. Belief as Force of Conviction. It is on the first mode of characterization that Hume himself appears to lay most stress ; and indeed his reason for this is obvious enough. " All the perceptions of the mind," he tells us, " are of two kinds, viz. impressions and ideas, which differ from each other only in their different degrees of force and vivacity. Our ideas are copied from our impressions, and represent them in all their parts. When you would any way vary the idea of a particular object, you can only increase or diminish its force and vivacity. If you make any other change on it, it represents a different object or impression. The case is the same as in colours. A particular shade of any colour may acquire a new degree of liveliness or bright- ness without any other variation. But when you produce any other variation, 'tis no longer the same shade or colour. 1 Treatise of Human Nature^ Part III, vii. THE PROBLEM OF BELIEF 37 So that as belief does nothing but vary the manner, in which we conceive any object, it can only bestow on our ideas an additional force and vivacity." l This appears to be sufficiently explicit ; but subsequent reflection evidently con- vinced Hume that it was erroneous. In his Appendix he states definitely that it is a mistake to say " that two ideas of the same object can only be different by their different degrees of force and vivacity. I believe there are other differences among ideas which cannot properly be compre- hended under these terms. Had I said, that two ideas of the same object can only be different by their different feeling, I should have been nearer the truth." Thus we are thrown back into vagueness again. Now, it is not of any great importance for our present purpose to know what Hume's view really was. It is enough to state that it seems to be quite clearly erroneous to suppose that a mere difference in force or vivacity can account for the presence or absence of belief. The illustration that he gives from the distinction between fiction and history is even ludicrously untrue. Most people have a more vivid apprehension of Othello, Falstaff, Don Quixote, Sam Weller, or Sherlock Holmes, than they have of the majority of historical personages. It is true that this vivid apprehension makes it somewhat difficult to realize that these characters arc purely fictitious ; but it seems clear that this difficulty can be overcome. It seems clear also that we can believe in the real existence of personages, such as Homer or Epi- menides, of whom it is impossible to gain any vivid repre- sentation. All that can reasonably be maintained, therefore, is that vividness of presentation is one of the grounds that tend to produce belief ; not that it is its essential character- istic. Accordingly, in more recent times, it is not on this aspect of belief that emphasis has been chiefly laid. 3. Belief and Action. The view that belief is specially connected with a tendency to action has met with much more support. Bain, in particular, contended quite definitely that belief means essentially a tendency to act. The pragrnatists, somewhat less definitely, have urged that belief is ultimately 1 Treatise of Unman Nut/ire. See also below, Book II, Chapter II, 5. 38 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY based on the needs involved in action. Now, it seems evident enough both that belief tends to lead to action, and that action tends to create and strengthen belief. 1 " We all believe many things," as Mr. Russell remarks, 2 " which we have no good ground for believing, because, subconsciously, our nature craves certain kinds of action which these beliefs would render reasonable if they were true." Sometimes, on the other hand, we are apt to think that things that would be pleasant and that would further our activities are " too good to be true." These psychological connections between belief and action depend largely on temperament, and on the degree of success or failure of our previous active experi- ences. That they have considerable influence with most people, cannot be doubted ; but it is easy to exaggerate their importance. There appear to be pretty obvious limita- tions on both sides. It is quite possible to act vigorously say, in a " forlorn hope " without any belief in the success of the action. No doubt some kind of belief is involved even in such a case the belief, for instance, that the action is right ; but in the case of what is sometimes called " incon- tinence " action brought about by " temptation," against our better judgment or in any action that approximates to the instinctive type, even this element of belief may at least be evanescent. How many of those who avoid the number 13 can be supposed really to believe that it has any power for evil? In purely animal action there is probably nothing that can be properly called belief, though there may be some of the germs out of which beliefs might be formed. It would seem, therefore, that definite actions are not neces- sarily dependent on definite beliefs. Nor does it appear to be the case that definite beliefs necessarily lead to definite actions. We may believe in the existence of molecules, of electrons, of nebulae, of a Glacial Epoch, of a Golden Age, without any definite influence on action, except the act of belief itself, and the thoughts that are immediately connected with it. Even the belief in Heaven and Hell has not always proved in any high degree influential in action. " Every one knows," as Bryce has observed, 3 " how little a man's 1 This is very well brought out in I' ^tout's Manual of Psychol^y, Hook IV, chapter viii. 3 Principles of Social Reconstruction, p. n. 3 Holy Rowan Empire, p. 1.13. THE PROBLEM OF BELIEF 39 actions conform to the general maxims which he would lay down for himself, and how many things there are which he believes without realizing : believes sufficiently to be influ- enced, yet not sufficiently to be governed by them." To say that, in such cases, it is not a genuine belief, is only to beg the question. It seems clear, therefore, that, though the relation between belief and action is a close one, it cannot be fairly maintained that the essential nature of belief is to be found in its influence on action. 4. Belief and Apprehension. Such expressions as " firm- ness " or " solidity " seem to bring us somewhat nearer to what is specially characteristic of the believing attitude. What we regard as fictitious floats vaguely before us, like a cloud ; whereas what we definitely believe is relatively fixed, like a star in the firmament. Fictitious narratives are of events that happened " once upon a time." If they are definitely localized and dated, as in the tales of Defoe and others, the result is to induce at least a momentary belief ; and this is a result that is often aimed at by writers of fiction. But in what is purely fictitious the fixing fails at some point or other. The events refuse to fit in with other events that we connect with the same time and place, or are incom- patible with what we know of the general conditions of human life. It is indeed noteworthy that Hume himself, while appearing to lay stress on the vividness of the presentation, does in fact call attention to the definite determination of the content as what is specially characteristic of belief. The reason why he did not more definitely emphasize this aspect is of course obvious enough. To do so would have involved the abandonment of his atomic theory of our ideas or presenta- tions. It would have involved the recognition that to judge is something essentially different from the simple apprehen- sion of an idea. That this is the point at issue, he was indeed pretty fully aware. " We may here take occasion," he says in a Note, " to observe a very remarkable error, which being frequently inculcated in the schools, has become a kind of established maxim, and is universally received by all logicians. This error consists in the vulgar division of the acts of the understanding, into conception, judgment, and 40 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY reasoning, and in the definitions we give of them. Conception is defined to be the simple survey of one or more ideas : judgment to be the separating or uniting of different ideas : reasoning to be the separating or uniting of different ideas by the interposition of others, which show the relation they bear to each other. But these distinctions and definitions are faulty in very considerable articles. For first, 'tis far from being true, that in every judgment, which we form, we unite two different ideas ; since in that proposition, God is, or indeed any other, which regards existence, the idea of existence is no distinct idea, which we unite with that of the object, and which is capable of forming a compound idea by the union. Secondly, as we can thus form a proposi- tion, which contains only one idea, so we may exert our reason without employing more than two ideas, and without having recourse to a third to serve as a medium betwixt them. We infer a cause immediately from its effect ; and this infer- ence is not only a true species of reasoning, but the strongest of all others, and more convincing than when we interpose another idea to connect the two extremes. What we may in general affirm concerning these three acts of the understand- ing is, that taking them in a proper light, they all resolve themselves into the first, and are nothing but particular ways of conceiving our objects. Whether we consider a single object, or several ; whether we dwell on these objects, or run from them to others , and in whatever form or order we survey them, the act of the mind exceeds not a simple conception ; and the only remarkable difference, which occurs on this occasion is, when we join belief to the conception, and are persuaded of the truth of what we conceive. This act of the mind has never yet been explained by any philosopher ; and therefore I am at liberty to propose my hypothesis con- cerning it ; which is that it is only a strong and steady conception of any idea, and such as approaches in some measure to an immediate impression." ' Parts of this state- ment do not at present concern us ; but we see in it that Hume seeks to break down the distinction between apprehen- sion and judgment, by reducing it to a difference in the degree of strength in our presentations. An impression, 1 Treatise, as above. THE PROBLEM OF BELIEF 41 according to him, is not merely believed : it is certainly known. A belief is a feebler kind of presentation ; and an idea, apprehended as fictitious, is feebler still. Such a view would now be almost universally regarded as a heresy that is long since dead. But we have to try to see clearly what is the view that is to be put in its place. For the doctrine, to which Hume here refers, of distinct faculties of apprehension, judgment, and reasoning, has become even more definitely extinct than his own. But it may be well to notice here a way in which something rather like it has been revived. 5. Brentano's View of Belief. The view of Brentano on this subject has attracted a good deal of attention. According to him, belief or judgment is to be regarded as an attitude of consciousness that is fundamentally distinct from appre- hension. His doctrine is most ' definitely summed up in the following passage: "When we say, 'Presentation and Judgment are fundamentally different classes of psychical phenomena, we mean by this, in accordance with what has been previously remarked, that they are two entirely different ways in which we are conscious ^of an object. In saying this, we are not denying that all judgment presupposes a presenta- tion. We maintain rather, that every object with reference to which a judgment is formed, is apprehended by our con- sciousness in two distinct ways, as simply presented and as affirmed or denied. The relation is thus similar to that which, as we saw, is rightly recognized by the great majority of philosophers by Kant no less than by Aristotle as existing between presentation and conation. Nothing is desired which is not presented ; nevertheless desiring is a second, a quite new and peculiar mode of relation to the object, a second and quite new way in which it is apprehended in consciousness. So too, nothing is judged which is not presented ; but we maintain that, as soon as an object of presentation becomes the object of an affirmative or negative judgment, our con- sciousness enters into a totally new mode of relation to it. It is then doubly apprehended in consciousness, as presented and as affirmed or denied ; just as, when desire is directed to such an object, it exists in consciousness both as presented 42 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY and as desired." ' Here again, there are some things in these statements that do not at present concern us ; but the con- tention that belief or judgment is to be regarded as a distinct mode or attitude of consciousness, puts definitely before us a view of a very different type from that suggested by Hume, and one that is now much more 'widely accepted. In order, however, that we may see exactly what is involved in it, it seems important at this point to distinguish between the logical and the psychological aspects of the question. In other words, we have to try to distinguish between a judgment or proposition and a belief. Evidently it would be quite possible to recognize that a judgment is a complex object, and yet to hold, with Hume, that to believe a judgment or proposition is not a distinct attitude of consciousness, but only a distinct degree of it. 6. Belief and Judgment. The theory of judgment involves some difficult problems ; and we can only touch upon it briefly at this point. What it is specially important to bear in mind for our present purpose, is, that a judgment or proposition is the expression of a meaning. A distinction is indeed sometimes drawn between the judgment as meaning and the proposition as expression. But it is doubtful whether much can be made of this distinction, though it is a con- venient one for certain purposes. A proposition can hardly be treated as purely verbal. The same proposition can be expressed in different languages, and in varying forms in the same language. It would certainly be paradoxical to say that, with every such modification, it becomes a different proposition. On the other hand, we can hardly think of a judgment that is not expressed in some form of words. It is usual, however, in logic to state judgments in certain definite forms, which are not always those adopted in ordinary dis- course. It might be convenient to refer to an assertion as a proposition when it is not reduced to any such definite form ; and to call it a judgment only when it is expressed in the form of words that most definitely conveys the meaning that is intended. It must be left, however, to special treatises on logic to determine what that form is, or rather what 1 /' v< /;,./,>;>; ruin emfiriv-fii-ii St\r\ at the bottom of the scale ; and this would be Matter without Form. But he admits that this can only be conceived in a negative way, as the absolutely unformed. It seems impossible to attach any definite mean- ing to such a conception. It is the thought of mere nonentity, and it is hard to see how a Form can be imposed upon nothing. There is a similar difficulty in the philosophy of Kant. The primitive material, according to Kant, is that which is 1 See especially the concluding chapter, 2, 3, 4. 136 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY simply sensed a colour, a sound, and so forth. This receives form by being placed in the order of time. It may be further formed by being referred to a position in space. It is given a still more definite form by the application of the categories of quantity, quality, relation, and modality. Though, however, quality appears as one of these categories, Kant explains that this is only to be interpreted as meaning degree. The quality, it would seem, is to be regarded as an aspect of the given material. But surely the quality and, indeed, also the kind of any sense material is of the nature of form. A red colour is distinguished from a blue one by its place in the colour scale, just as it may be dis- tinguished from another red colour by its intensity or degree. And, as it seems clear that a sense datum is never pre- sented without some quality and degree, it can hardly be said to be formless. Thus for Kant, as for Aristotle, it does not appear to be possible to point to anything definite that could be characterized as an unformed material. 1 The latest way in which a distinction of this kind has been set forth is that adopted by Mr. Bradley, who expresses the antithesis as that between the " that " and the " what." This puts it in a more definite way, and a way that it is not easy to set aside ; and yet the antithesis, even in this form, seems to disappear on reflection, as it does in those that have been previously referred to. For what is a " that "? The very question suffices to indicate that, in order to have any intelligible meaning at all, it must be a " what." Like the irpwTti V\YI of Aristotle, it would seem to be a negative conception, the conception of a " what " that is as yet un- determined, an irreducible surd of particularity. But is there any real reason for the recognition of such a surd? Take the case of a particular experience of colour. It is, let us suppose, a particular shade of red, with a certain intensity, 1 The opposition between Form and Matter has been well discussed by Green in his Prolegomena to Ethics. See especially 43-5 and the adjoining sections. But there appears to be a certain lack of clearness in the doctrine of relations which he uses in this connection. This doctrine tends to make it seem as if a certain irreducible residuum were left over of elements between which the relations hold. If this point is preyed, it naturally leads to some form of pluralism. The con- ception of orders as forming the basis for relations appears to me to avoid this difficulty ; and it is perhaps implicit in some of Green's own statements. See above, Chapter VII, 3 and 4. THE GENERAL NATURE OF KNOWLEDGE 137 a certain degree of saturation, lasting for a certain time, apprehended by a certain conscious centre, in relation to certain physical objects and to a certain nervous structure having certain positions in space. All this can be described, and means the placing of it either within or in relation to certain specific orders. What is there left? Simply, it would seem, the fact that it is a colour i.e. that it belongs to a certain kind. Now, it may be admitted for the present that kinds do not constitute a definite order. There is a problem here that will have to be considered at a later stage. But it is surely clear at least that a kind is a " what." Kinds are at least universals, though they may be universals that do not fall within any order. They may be separated from one another by an impassable gulf. If so, we have here a foundation for a pluralistic conception of the universe, but not for a distinction between " that " and " what," or between Matter and Form. And, as it thus appears that all such dis- tinctions break down (for what is stated about colour is clearly applicable to any other object of experience), we seem to be entitled to reject this ancient antithesis, and to maintain that everything is essentially Form ; and that the particular the Matter or the " that " is simply a point at which certain universals or orders meet or intersect one another. If this is granted, we have got a considerable way towards the determination of the essential nature of the world as known . ' 8. Limits of Reasonable Doubt. We are, of course, still far from the establishment of the view that the universe can be regarded as a completely intelligible system, which is the goal at which all science, and especially all philosophy, must be regarded as aiming. The relations between distinct kinds may be unintelligible. The universals and orders that constitute the structure of the world that we know may be cut off from one another by impassable gulfs ; and they 1 Some further difficulties connected with the subject here referred to, are dealt with in Book III, Chapter II, i and 2. It should be added that the above paragraph is not intended as a criticism on the special doctrine of Mr. Bradley ; since 1 do not understand that he regards the antithesis to which reference has been made as an ultimate one. But, if the antithesis is pressed, it seems to me to be open to the objections that I have sought to indicate. 138 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY may not even be completely coherent within themselves. There is thus considerable room left for certain forms of Scepticism and Agnosticism. But at least it would appear that certain definite limitations can be set to these. We cannot, without manifest absurdity, doubt that there are universals and orders in the world that we experience. Such a scepticism as that of Hume, which rests on the supposition that all our percep- tions are distinct and separate, is as, indeed, he was himself pretty clearly aware essentially unreasonable. Such an agnosticism as that of Kant, however, which rests on the view that the attempt to view the world as a completely intelligible system breaks down, is still a possible attitude. It can only be refuted by showing that there is some inter- pretation of the world as a completely intelligible system that does not break down ; and this we are certainly as yet far from having shown. It may very well be even that we shall never succeed in showing it with any completeness. It may be that the pursuit of truth is the ultimate human attitude, rather than its attainment. But this would not jusify agnosticism, in the sense of a definite belief that the con- ception of the world as an intelligible system is intrinsically impossible. We may at least hope to give grounds for believing that the difficulties in the way of the interpretation of our world are not such as to force us to adopt any such conclusion. If we cannot establish a dogmatic theory of the structure of the universe, we may at least hope to prevent the establishment of the dogmatic theory that it has no in- telligible structure, and perhaps even to give some grounds for thinking that the supposition that it has an intelligible structure in other words, that it forms a perfect Cosmos is the more probable hypothesis. 1 9. Absolute Knowledge and Knowledge of the Absolute. What is indicated in the previous section may be made some- what more definite by means of the distinction between absolute knowledge and knowledge of the Absolute. Scepticism, in its most extreme form, is the denial or doubt of the possibility of any absolute knowledge ; while Agnosticism, in its most definite sense, is the denial or doubt 1 See Book III, especially Chapter IV and the concluding Chapter. THE GENERAL NATURE OF KNOWLEDGE 139 of the possibility of any knowledge of the Absolute. By absolute knowledge I understand a belief that is known with complete certainty to be correct. By knowledge of the Abso- lute I understand a correct belief with regard to the structure of the universe as a whole. Now, scepticism, as thus under- stood, appears to be unreasonable. There are some things of which our knowledge seems to be absolute. That 2 -|- 2 4, that red is different from blue, that colour is different from sound and both from pain, that our experiences change, that some experiences are more pleasant than others, that if something is true of a class it is true of each member of the class, are statements that it is hardly possible to doubt. Descartes suggested that even in things so evident as these we might suppose that there is some powerful and malignant being who is leading us astray. But obviously, if the state- ments are doubtful at all, a powerful and malignant being would not be necessary to make them so. It may certainly be admitted that, as soon as we proceed to interpret even the most self-evident of our beliefs, we are liable to fall into error. But, in this sense, we may even doubt that we doubt. We may be misinterpreting our attitude. To press doubt in this way is perhaps not absolutely impossible. It is not impossible to become mad. But, so long as we retain our reason, it seems clear that there are some things that cannot be doubted. Doubt is a mode of belief : it is the belief that something is uncertain. Now, we can only believe that something is uncertain by distinguishing it from things that are certain. To doubt whether anything is certain is also to doubt whether anything is uncertain. Scepticism, in this sense, is "a medicine that purges out itself along with the disease." What it leaves is the recognition that, while a few things are certain, a much larger number are only probable i.e. we have some grounds for believing them, but not grounds that are absolutely conclusive. To this class belong most, if not all, of our scientific theories. It is pretty certain, for instance, that the relation expressed by the law of Gravitation holds between material bodies ; but it is doubtful whether it holds between all things that occupy space. Already some limits to its application appear to have been discovered. The principle of conservation of energy I 4 o ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY does not hold in some of the forms in which it was first conceived ; and it may be doubted whether it has, even now, been formulated in a way that is quite final. The doctrine of evolution probably waits for many fresh discoveries before we can have even a moderate degree of certainty with regard to the precise way in which it works. The general principle of causation is less open to question ; but, even with regard to this, it can hardly be said to be absolutely absurd how- ever improbable it may be to suppose that there is some element of Chance or Contingency at some point in the Universe. Similar remarks may be made about the prin- ciples of association and continuity as applied to the development of our conscious life. All such theories are subject to revision. Now, it would certainly be strange if our knowledge of the Universe as a whole were less open to doubt than our knowledge of particular aspects of it. Our knowledge begins with the parts ; and the more we extend its scope, the more room there is for error. Hence a certain degree of doubt with regard to the ultimate structure of the Universe is not unreasonable. Dogmatic assertion or denial would seem to be equally out of place. But the recognition of this does not imply that we may not form probable hypotheses. The possibility of this, however, we must reserve for future consideration. 10. Idealism and Realism. We have now reached a point at which it may be profitable to make some remarks upon those interpretations of the world that are commonly described as idealistic and realistic respectively. These terms are highly ambiguous ; and indeed, in themselves, they are almost meaningless. But they have been used to describe certain tendencies of thought that are worth noticing. The term idealism has been used to characterize two very different points of view, one of which is most conspicuously repre- sented by Plato, the other by Berkeley. The view of Plato may be briefly expressed by saying that he held that what is really known is a system of Universals, constituting an Order, the interpretation of which is to be found in the supreme Universal, which he called the Form of Good. THE GENERAL NATURE OF KNOWLEDGE 141 Berkeley's view, on the other hand, may be briefly expressed by saying that reality consists of conscious centres, together with what they apprehend at the moment at which it is apprehended. These views, which (as we have already noticed) are almost the opposites of one another, have both been called idealism in consequence of a change of meaning in the word Idea. At first it meant a Form, 1 then it came to mean a Universal, then the Universal as apprehended by some conscious centre, and finally anything that is apprehended by a conscious centre. The term Realism has undergone somewhat similar transformations. At first it was applied to the doctrine that universals and orders are real, and are not dependent for their reality on their apprehension by conscious centres. In this sense Plato is the most con- spicuous representative of Realism, just as he is of Idealism in its older sense. But Realism has since come to mean any doctrine that asserts the reality of anything as being independent of its apprehension by conscious centres. In this sense even Berkeley is a Realist, in so far as he held that conscious centres themselves are real independently of their apprehension by one another. Hume came nearer to complete opposition to Realism in this, or indeed in any, sense. What Berkeley chiefly denied was the reality of material substance ; and this was one of the few points that he had in common with Plato. Hence Realism has sometimes been understood to mean the doctrine of the independent reality of material substance. When understood in this sense, Realism may be fairly said to be opposed to the Idealism both of Plato and of Berkeley. But in recent times the term has been applied to the views of certain writers who are mainly concerned with the affirmation of the reality of universals and orders. Some at least of these writers do not affirm the independent reality of material substance. Some even agree with Berkeley in thinking that certain things that we apprehend are real only in so far as they are apprehended by conscious centres. Thus it has become very difficult to distinguish between idealists and realists. It may, however, be urged at least that the Berkeleyan type of idealism can hardly be supported. What we have now seen with regard 1 Or a Figure, thus connecting with the Pythagorean Numbers. 142 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY to the meaning of knowledge and reality leads us to recognize that it is fundamentally erroneous. Berkeley's view rested, as Reid pointed out, on the doctrine of representative perception, which is traceable to Descartes. Descartes, as we have already noted, affirmed that the only thing that could not be doubted was the reality of the conscious centre at the moment at which it is aware of itself. Other things, he contended, are not known directly, but only through their representations, which he called ideas. Berkeley sought to improve on this, by holding that the representations alone are real ; and that we have no real ground for maintaining the reality of that which they repre- sent or picture. This he urged chiefly as an argument against the reality of material substance ; and on that particular point he may have been right. We shall have occasion to consider this at a later stage. But it seems obvious that the general doctrine of representative perception is erroneous. We do not apprehend pictures of numbers or colours or sounds or degrees of heat or time or extension. What we appre- hend is numbers themselves, colours, and so forth. And it seems clear that the meaning of what is thus apprehended is not dependent on the fact that a particular conscious centre apprehends it. Whether it is in any way dependent on the existence of conscious centres in general may be more open to doubt ; but with that question we need not at present concern ourselves. It appears from these considerations that there is no very definite opposition between Idealism, at least in its Platonic sense, and Realism, at least in the sense in which it has been most recently urged. There is, however, one point of difference which it is well to notice. Plato did not merely maintain the reality of universals or orders. He urged also that they are to be interpreted as forming part of one order, in which the central principle is the Form of Good. Modern Realism, in general, does not recognize any such principle of unity. Now, this constitutes a fundamental difference, on which it may be well to make some observations. i i .Pluralism and Cosmism. A much more definite and fundamental antithesis than that between Idealism and Realism THE GENERAL NATURE OF KNOWLEDGE 143 is that between Pluralism and Cosmism. The independent reality of particular things may be understood to mean, not merely their independence of conscious centres, but their inde- pendence of the whole to which they belong. It may even be denied or questioned, that there is any real whole. Views of this kind seem to be best described as pluralistic ; and most of those who are called Realists seem to be Pluralists. 1 They think of real things, whether particular or universal, as independent of one another. Most forms of Idealism, on the other hand, are, more or less definitely, connected with a view of the Universe as a Cosmos. Now, we are hardly yet in a position to discuss this antithesis. We have seen that kinds appear to be cut off from one another, in the phrase of Anaxagoras, as if " with a hatchet." So far, there is some ground for maintaining at least a partial Pluralism. On the other hand, our constant discovery of fresh modes of order in the Universe makes it difficult for us to rest content With any apparent lack of order. A cosmic conception always presents itself as an ideal for thought. But how far we are justified in accepting this conception as a guiding principle with reference to the Universe in general, is a problem that must be deferred for con- sideration at a later stage. In the meantime, it will be well to notice more definitely at this point some of the chief views that have been held on the general subject of knowledge. 1 For some further comments on the views of the New Realists, see Chapter X, 13 and 14, Book II, Chapter V, 5, and Book III, Chapter I, 9. Professor D. C. Macintosh, in his recent book on The Problem of Knowledge (George Allen & Unwin Ltd.), deals very fully and sympathetically with their leading doctrines, and gives useful references to contemporary discussions on the whole subject. CHAPTER X THEORIES OF KNOWLEDGE' i . Introductory Remarks. Although it is no part of our present design to deal expressly with the historical develop- ment of philosophical theories, yet it seems important at this point to notice some of the chief ways in which the theory of knowledge has been conceived, especially in modern times. While it is true that some Greek views on the subject, and even some Oriental views, and indeed some Medieval views as well, are of great interest and lasting value, yet the dis- cussion of the subject at the present time turns mainly on conceptions that have been brought into prominence since the time of Descartes. The early Greek philosophers began on the whole 2 with the assumption of the general validity of ordinary knowledge, and were only gradually led, by the emergence of dialectical problems, to realize the difficulties that are involved in it. As a result of this realization, a general doctrine of knowledge was developed, especially by Plato and Aristotle, which is still a source of enlighten- ment, and to which modern writers tend perpetually to recur. These philosophers, however, were animated by a sturdy faith in the power of rational reflection to solve all the difficulties that it raises a faith which they only partially succeeded in justifying. Hence a time of scepticism gradually supervened ; and it is only through the labours of many generations, initiated in the main by the constructive efforts of Descartes, 1 A few passages in this chapter have been reproduced from the article " Metaphysics " in the Encyclopedia of Religion and Ethics. 2 Perhaps this requires some qualification, especially in the case of the Pythagoreans ; but such an account of the teaching of Pythagoras as is given, for instance, by Schure in his interesting book on Lcs Grands Initics seems to have but little historical justification. See Professor Burnet's Greek Philosophy, Thales to Plato, chapter ii, and Early Greek Philosophy, 2nd edition, pp. o,i-*I24. 144 THEORIES OF KNOWLEDGE 145 that it has been possible to restore something that at least approximates to the confidence by which the work of Plato and Aristotle was inspired. 2. The Doctrine of Representative Ideas. The general attitude of Descartes has already been noticed, and its value has been emphasized as a starting-point for a philosophical construction. It has also been indicated that, on its more positive side, it had serious deficiencies. The nature of these has now to be more precisely stated. .We have seen that he set out with the affirmation of the indisputable reality of the individual self, as the centre at which thoughts or beliefs are entertained. The validity of the objects of these beliefs, other than that of the reality of the individual centre, remained to be considered. This problem presented itself to Descartes mainly in the form of the two questions, as to the reality of the being of God, and as to that of the material world. The former he sought to establish chiefly by the argument (partly reproduced from Plato) that the reality of the finite or imperfect implies that of the infinite or perfect. This we shall have occasion to consider more definitely at a later stage. 1 The reality of the material world was estab- lished in a more indirect way ; and the conception of know- ledge that was developed in this attempt is what chiefly concerns us at present. He based his argument for the reality of the material world primarily on the fact that we have a clear and distinct idea of it ; and this leads us at once to notice the ' doctrine of representative ideas, which was thus made prominent in the theory of knowledge. The doctrine can hardly be said to have been introduced by him. It is implied in some previous theories, notably in the Stoical doctrine of the criterion of truth. But it was the emphasis laid upon it by Descartes that gave it the currency and pervading influence that it long retained in modern specula- tion, and from which even now we have hardly been able to free ourselves completely. The doctrine of representative ideas, as understood by Descartes, can be pretty easily explained. Having adopted 1 See especially Book III, Chapter III, i, Chapter IV, 2, and concluding chapter, 4 and 5. 10 146 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY the view that the only things of which we are immediately certain are the self and its ideas, he conceived that the latter could be rightly described as being " in the mind." This implies a kind of metaphor, the full significance of which will call for some further discussion. 1 It involves, as it has been put, the comparison of the individual mind to a picture- gallery, the pictures being characterized as ideas. One of the pictures is that of the gallery itself i.e. the idea of the individual mind as a thinking substance ; and this picture must be supposed to have been always in it, so that the idea may be said to be " innate." Some others, notably that of God, must also be supposed to have been always there, being more or less definitely implied in the idea of the self. Some, such as the ideas of centaurs or chimeras, may be regarded as pictures that have been painted or con- structed by the self. Some, such as emotional experiences and purely sensible qualities, not being clear and distinct, may be held to be mere daubs, of no special significance for knowledge, though of some practical value. But there are some that appear to be elaborate portraits ; and these may be supposed to be the portraits of beings external to the mind, and to have been, as it were, handed in by them presented, as Mr. Bradley has put it, with their compli- ments. This is, no doubt, a somewhat crude way of stating the doctrine ; but it appears to be substantially what Descartes sought to maintain ; and, with some modifications, it reappears in the writings of several other philosophers. The objections to such a theory are fairly obvious. When I am conscious of myself, what I am conscious of is pretty clearly not an idea or picture of myself it is myself. When I am conscious of pain or hunger, of a sound or colour, or of a particular degree of heat, it is a certain kind of pain, a certain feeling of hunger, some specific sound or colour, some degree of warmth, that I apprehend, not ideas or pictures of them ; and they are, in general, quite clear and distinct. A complex object, such as a house or mountain, is no doubt apprehended in a more partial manner ; and what is partially or imperfectly apprehended may be contrasted with the whole that is meant or intended or guessed at, as a mere idea or 1 See below, Book II, Chapters V and VI. THEORIES OF KNOWLEDGE 147 picture of it. How far any of the objects that are thus apprehended can properly be said to be " in the mind," is a matter for further consideration. But it seems clear at least that it is only in special cases that the metaphor of a picture can, with any real propriety, be applied to it. But, before raising any further objections, it may be well to notice some of the consequences to which this way of thinking led. 3. TJie Cartesian Dualism. From the view that Descartes was thus led to take, the Universe was naturally regarded as falling into two distinct parts. On the one hand, there is the mind, with its ideas or pictures ; on the other hand, there is the world that is pictured, distinct from the indi- vidual mind. The world thus conceived, however, is very different from the world as it is commonly supposed to exist. It contains God, the infinite or perfect intelligence, a large number of other finite minds, and the system of the material universe. The material is to be conceived as containing only that which can be clearly and distinctly pictured as existing independently of any mind. This would clearly not apply to such an object as a particular pain or hunger or emotion ; and further reflection leads to the conviction that it does not apply to taste, smell, sound, or colour, or even to such qualities as hardness or softness. Hence it is reduced finally to those characteristics that are purely spatial. But if the material world is simply space or extension, it seems clear that it cannot even contain motion : there is nothing in it to move. Yet Descartes continues to assume that it does contain motion, and that this motion is constant in amount (estimated by reference to volume and velocity). But, as pure space has no distinguishable modes, it is not easy to see what could be meant by saying that its parts move. The modes that might move in it would need to have some dis- tinguishable characteristics, such as hardness or softness, colour, heat, etc. ; i.e. they would be qualities that are experienced, or at least that have the potentiality of giving rise to particular experiences. 1 Space in itself can only, it 1 We should thus be led to the doctrine of "permanent possibilities of sen- sation," as set forth by Mill in his Examination of Sir William Hamilton, chapter xi. But, as it has been said, " a naked possibility is nothing." 148 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY would seem, be regarded as a receptacle (a v7roSox';> as Plato ' called it) in which qualities (the cicnowa *at t^iovra) are dis- tributed. But Descartes has eliminated all such qualities. His material universe is, to all intents, a vacuum. The question would then remain, how these qualities, or potentialities of experience, which must somehow be conceded, are to be regarded. Are they to be described as modes of mind? Even this hardly seems to be possible, from the point of view of Descartes. Mind, according to him, is simply a thinking substance. Now, it would appear that no amount of pure thinking could ever generate heat or colour or smell or any other of those qualities of which the poten- tialities may be supposed to constitute the modes that belong to particular parts of space. Hence Descartes was forced to regard these modes, not as properly belonging either to mind or matter as such, but as relations between them, arising from a certain union of the two. But this amounts to the confession that all the specific features of the world as we know it all that gives colour and warmth either to the mental or to the material system belong neither to the thinking nor to the extended substance ; and that the assumption of these two substances is wholly futile as an explanation of the world of our experience. The subsequent history of the Cartesian school may be said to consist of little else than the gradual recognition of this futility. 2 4. Objective Idealism. As soon as the futility of the two -substance theory is fully recognized, the whole weight of the Cartesian philosophy has to be thrown upon the third substance, which was from the first kept in reserve behind the other two God, the being absolutely infinite and perfect. The general conception of the infinite and perfect will have to be discussed in a later chapter. 3 In the meantime, we have only to notice the general way in which this conception came into prominence in the development of the Cartesian philosophy. The doctrine of occasional causes meant essen- tially the recognition that all explanation of particular occurrences i.e. the changes that take place in the modes 1 Tiwa-us, 50 C. * For some further discussion of the Cartesian Dualism, see below, Book II, Chapter VI, 14. 3 Book III, Chapters III and IV. THEORIES OF KNOWLEDGE 149 of the two finite types of substance has to be sought in the infinite. But, as the infinite was primarily thought of as being of the nature of mind, to seek an explanation there was little more than an admission that no explanation was to be found. The doctrine of Malebranche, that " we see all things in God," was a considerable step in advance ; for it was nearly, if not quite, an abandonment of the theory of representative ideas. It involved the denial that ideas are properly to be regarded as "in the mind," and are rather to be treated as objects that the mind apprehends as existing in something distinguishable from itself. The full conse- quences of this were, however, not realized by Malebranche. These consequences were made much more apparent by Spinoza, who acknowledged only a single substance, having the two main attributes of thought and extension. But, while this change made the Cartesian philosophy more coherent, it did not help materially to explain the particular modes of existence. Leibniz sought to supply this deficiency by his doctrine of monads. But the finite monads are dis- tinguished from the infinite and perfect being only by a certain element of negativity ; and it is pretty evident that mere negation can never explain the existence of particular positive qualities, such as colour or pleasantness. Leibniz sought for the explanation of the particular characteristics of the universe that we know by the conception of the " best of possible worlds " ; but if God is absolutely perfect, as all the Cartesians supposed, and were bound to suppose, it seems clear that there can be no need of any finite beings external to himself ; and it is hard to see how there can be any explanation of the existence of such beings within him. In general, however, it may be said that the final out- come of Cartesianism was not a dualism, but what may perhaps be best characterized as a form of objective idealism i.e. the conception of the universe as a spiritual whole, of which the existence of finite beings is either a passing mode or an imperfect emanation. How such modes or emana- tions can be reconciled with the perfection of the whole, is an unsolved problem ; but it is a problem that presents con- siderable difficulties to other types of idealism as well. But it is at least important to observe that this form of idealism ISO ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY is to be distinguished from the more purely subjective idealism of Berkeley and from the absolute idealism of some later philosophers ; though it is true that the distinction is one that tends at certain points to become evanescent. 5. The Attitude of Locke. The chief line of British specu- lation, of which Locke may be regarded as the founder, 1 is closely connected with the Cartesian position, but mainly in its more critical, as distinguished from its more constructive, aspects. 2 He adopted the general theory of representative ideas, but was not as confident as Descartes Avas of the possi- bility of passing from the representation to the thing that is represented. Hence he confined himself more purely to the psychological aspects of knowledge, as being essentially an apprehension of relations between ideas ; and indeed it seems to have been only by a truly magnificent inconsistency 3 that he ever conceived himself to be entitled to pass from ideas in the mind to qualities in things, and to the knowledge of the reality of substance. Apart from the comprehensiveness of his survey, and some useful contributions to psychological analysis, the value of his work lay almost entirely in preparing the way for the subjective idealism of Berkeley and the scepticism of Hume. He did this chiefly by emphasizing the difficulty of forming any positive conception of substance, any intelligible idea of power or causal efficacy, and any coherent theory of the apprehension of uni versa Is, as dis- tinguished from the ideas of particular things. 6. Subjective idealism. The subjective idealism of Berkeley grew immediately out of the position of Locke ; 1 Of course, Locke owed much to Hobbcs and to the Cambridge Platonists ; ami his general attitude of radical empiricism, which contributed so much to set the tone of subsequent British philosophy, may even be traced back to the two Bacons. But with such purely historical relations we are not here concerned. 2 He adopted some constructive ideas from Descartes, notably the argument for the reality of the self, but without their full logical justification. On the other hand, his argument against innate ideas seems to be directed against Herbert, rather than against Descartes. 3 This phrase is not meant to be altogether sarcastic. Locke had, in an eminent degree, the characteristic which is sometimes believed to be specially English, of caring more for truth than for consistency. One is sometimes tempted to admire this quality, in contrast with the readiness to accept the wildest paradoxes for the sake of logical consistency. THEORIES OF KNOWLEDGE 151 but it may also be connected pretty directly with that of Descartes. Kant, in his Refutation of Idealism, deals with the views of Descartes and Berkeley together, distinguishing their attitudes, with regard to this particular problem, as problematical and dogmatic respectively. 1 Referring back to our account of Descartes' manner of thinking of the mind and its ideas as a picture-gallery containing portraits, we may say that what Berkeley urges is 'that, if we only see pictures in a gallery, we have no real reason for thinking that they ever exist in any other way than in a gallery. If we did not paint them ourselves, the most reasonable supposi- tion is that they were brought in from some other gallery, in which they were painted by a productive activity similar to that which we find 'in our own. The chief difficulty about this is that it does not account for those pictures that were in the gallery from the first i.e. for the ideas of self and God and those that represent permanent conditions of all experience, such as time, space, number, causal sequence, and other forms of relation in general, for those fundamental determinations that are commonly referred to as categories. Berkeley was forced to deny that these are properly to be regarded as ideas at all : he describes them as Notions. We have notions, he says, of the self, of other selves, of activity, and, in general, of all modes of relation i.e. as he explains, we know what we mean by these conceptions, though we cannot be said to picture mem, and though their reality does not consist in our apprehension of them. He does not appear, however, to have sufficiently observed that, when we consider what we mean by them, we find that we mean something that is not essentially dependent on any appre- hension of them, but is rather an objective condition of all experience. Number, for instance, seems clearly to apply not only to the ideas that may, in a certain sense, be said 1 Kant's argument is more effective against Descartes than against Berkeley, with whose works he does not appear to have been very well acquainted. Dr. G. E. Moore's interesting Refutation of Idealism (Mind, October 1903) is directed mainly against the position of Berkeley, but is effective also against some later theories of a subjective type. Dr. Moore, however, is somewhat unfortunate in selecting cups and saucers as examples of things that exist independently of the life of spirit. These are clearly formed by conscious activity, and to serve conscious ends, 152 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY to be in an individual mind, but also to spirits, which Berkeley does not suppose to exist in that way. The same is true of time. The ideas in one mind are before or after those in another mind, to which they may be communicated, or from which they may be received ; and this relation of before and after means something which is not dependent on either of the minds between whose ideas it subsists. If Berkeley had followed out this implication of his notions, he would probably have been led to a point of view similar to that which was afterwards adopted by Kant. But his notions were an afterthought, and hence his general attitude continued to be a subjective one. He continued at least to think of the esse of material things as consisting simply in their percipi, and of the esse of individual minds as consisting in percipere. It is in this way chiefly that his idealism is distinguished from that of Malebranche and others, who recognized the objectivity of the content of our knowledge. It should be borne in mind, however, that even Berkeley distinguished between the sense in which ideas are " in the mind " and that in which the characteristics of the mind itself e.g. its attitude of choice may be rightly so described ; and, indeed, in acknowledging that the same idea may be transferred or communicated from one mind to another, he was almost admitting that ideas have a certain in- dependence of the particular mind by which they are apprehended. It would seem necessary at least to think of the process of transference as distinguishable from either of the two minds with reference to which it takes place. Still, it remains true that his main position is a subjec- tive one. 1 1 Sidgwick suggested that subjective idealism should be called Mentalism (Philosophy, its Scope and Relations, p. 60, and The Philosophy of Kant, p. 238). In view of the frequent confusion between different senses of Idealism, it might be well to adopt this suggestion. Caird protested vigorously many years ago (Mind, October 1879) against the application of the term Idealism to Berkeley's point of view. I think it must be admitted, however, that the supporters of Idealism, as well as its critics, have a share of the blame for the confusion that has resulted. It should be added that, in some of his later writings, Berkeley himself was evidently advancing towards an Idealism of a different type. The term Mentalism has recently been adopted by several writers notably by Professor Pringle-Pattison in his book.on The Idea of God, THEORIES OF KNOWLEDGE 153 7. The Scepticism of Wume. The point of view of Berkeley, when not modified by his somewhat tardy and hesitating admissions, leads directly to scepticism ; and this was very clearly brought out by Hume. Recurring to the Cartesian metaphor of the picture-gallery, we may say that Hume's argument was that, if we only see the pictures, the supposition that they hang in a gallery is gratuitous and unwarranted. They may be taken to be nothing more than dream -pictures ; and the dreamer may be supposed to be only an aspect of the dream. His own image a Jess con- vincing one is that of actors on a stage. We see only the actors, and have no real ground for the supposition that the stage or theatre within which we place them is anything more than the sum of their movements. This is a reductio ad absafdiim of the doctrine of representative ideas ; and Hume was weir aware that he was not propounding a positive theory, but only calling attention to a sceptical conclusion. What he essentially urged was that, according to the doctrine that was then in vogue, and which he provisionally adopted in default of a better, there could be no real knowledge of anything but a series of individual perceptions whether the lively ones that are called impressions and beliefs, or the fainter ones that are called ideas and fancies " succeeding one another with inconceivable rapidity, and in perpetual flux and movement." He 'saw, indeed, that such a view made even the appearance of definite knowledge incomprehensible ; but he did not see how any better doctrine could be devised. He stated his difficulty very clearly thus : " There are two principles which I cannot render consistent ; nor is it in my power to renounce either of them viz. that all our dis- tinct perceptions are distinct existences, and that the mind never perceives any real connection among distinct existences. Did our perceptions either inhere in something simple and individual, or did the mind perceive some real connection among them, there would be no difficulty in the case. For my part, I must plead the privilege of a sceptic, and confess, that this difficulty is too hard for my understanding. I pre- tend not, however, to pronounce it absolutely insuperable. Others, perhaps, or myself, upon more mature reflectionSv may discover some hypothesis, that will reconcile those con- 154 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY tradictions." ' In these words he stated quite definitely the problem that was afterwards dealt with by Kant. 8. Dualistic Realism. Reid, writing somewhat earlier than Kant, attempted to 'meet the scepticism of Hume by setting forth a new doctrine of dualistic realism, based on the denial of the theory of representative ideas. His attack on the latter doctrine was of considerable value, and anticipated some of the later criticisms to which it has been subjected ; but what he had to set in its place was not very clearly explained ; and some of his comments notably those on Hume's diffi- culty about causation were distinctly irrelevant. In the light of subsequent speculation it is easy to see that what he was chiefly aiming at was the affirmation of the essentially objec- tive character of our experience. He does not seem, however, to have explained at all clearly what it is that is objectively apprehended ; and his most notable disciple Sir William Hamilton in trying to make the position clearer, destroyed its chief value by maintaining that sensation is essentially subjective a view by which a good deal of later psychology has been adversely affected. 2 The main result of Reid's work was to restore the dualism of Descartes and Locke, without the purely subjective conception of knowledge which was really inconsistent with the affirmation of that dual ism. 3 9. The Critical Philosophy. A more hopeful method of dealing with the scepticism of Hume was introduced by Kant ; but his treatment is so technical and complicated that it cannot be easily summarized without the omission of some 1 Appendix to vol. i of .1 Tirntiac of Human Nature. It is for ever to be regretted that Kant seems not to have been acquainted with Hume's complete statement of his problem in this Treatise. Green's Introduction to Hume's Treatise is still the best critical account that \vv have of the whole movement of thought of which Hume marked the culmination. The more recent Hiunc-Slndicn by Professor Mcinong (now republished in his Gesainnicltc Abhtitutlmigcn, vols. i and ii) may also be consulted with advantage. 3 It is probable that Hamilton was a good deal influenced by Kant, in empha- sizing the purely subjective character of sensation. Among recent psycholi even Professor Stout, seems to me to have followed them too closely in this respect. 3 On the general significance of Reid's work, Professor Pringle-Pattison's book on The Scottish Philosophy should be consulted, THEORIES OF KNOWLEDGE 155 aspects that are of considerable importance. In the main, what he did was to bring out the significance of what Berkeley had described as Notions. He urged that we cannot, with- out absurdity, regard our knowledge as being confined to the separate perceptions that are apprehended by us at any particular time. We have to recognize certain fundamental orders, such as those of space, time, and causal succession, which carry us beyond our immediate data, and necessarily imply a coherent system of connections. He thus denied both the fundamental principles which Hume found it so difficult to reconcile. Unfortunately he continued to regard the immediate data that we apprehend by way of sensation as purely subjective. He followed Hume in beginning with what he described as a " manifold of sense," and only pro- ceeded afterwards to introduce the various modes of con- nection by which the manifold is reduced to systematic order. Later writers, such as Professor Ward, have emphasized the fact that even the rudest beginnings of experience must be regarded as containing a continuum. Kant's method of treat- ment in this respect gave to his work a somewhat delusive appearance of being similar to the psychological construc- tion of Locke. 1 Even the fundamental forms of time, space, and the categories are treated too much as belonging to the peculiar structure of the human intelligence, and so as lacking any thoroughly objective validity. This is partly corrected as he proceeds. In his Refutation of Idealism (by which he means Subjective Idealism) he urges, as we have already noticed, against both Descartes and Berkeley, that the recog- nition of coherent order (especially in the form of what is called substantiality) is more directly involved in the appre- hension of objects distinct from the self than in the awareness of the subject ; and that our knowledge of the persistent reality of the self must, consequently, be regarded as com- 1 Even Hegel seems to have regarded the point of view of Kant as very similar to that of Locke. The essential difference between them is well explained by Caird in his Critical Philosophy of Kant (chapter i), in which indeed he seeks throughout to remove or minimixe the apparently subjective implications in Kant's modes of statement. But he cannot be wholly defended from the charge of suggesting such implications ; and indeed he showed, in the later editions of his Critique, that he had become conscious of this defect. See also Adamson's Development of Modern Philosophy, vol. i, pp. 284-6. 156 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY paratively secondary and derivative, rather than as what is most immediately apprehended. He contends, moreover, that the order which we are bound to recognize in the connection of the objects that we apprehend, is an order that can never be reduced to a completely systematic form; and 'must, con- sequently, be treated as only " phenomenal," and distinguished from the real order, which may be supposed to belong to the relations between " things -in -themselves," and which we are led to postulate chiefly on moral grounds. But Kant's doctrine carried conviction, at least with regard to the neces- sity of recognizing that some kind of reality belongs to the more mediate forms of apprehension, as well as to those that are more immediate. When the significance of this is fully realized, it leads to the doctrine that may be charac- terized as that of epistemological realism i.e. the doctrine that everything that we in any way cognize has a kind of reality, which is not simply to be identified with the fact that it is immediately apprehended at any particular time. The subjectivism that continued to permeate Kant's philosophy is largely to be traced to that somewhat unfor- tunate process which he described as his Copernican revolu- tion. As Professor Alexander has pointed out, it was, on the whole, rather the reverse of the revolution that Copernicus effected ; and, indeed, it was not much of a revolution at all. Copernicus substituted a heliocentric for the old geocentric reference ; whereas Kant sought to substitute an egocentric for a cosmocentric attitude. Happily he did not altogether carry out his purpose. He was more and more led to recog- nize an objective order e.g. in the passage in which he states that the unity of experience is to be regarded rather as a synopsis than as a synthesis, and, still more definitely, in his refutation of subjective idealism, 1 and in most of the changes that he introduced into the later editions of his first Critique. But these modifications came too late to enable him to reconstruct his system ; and it remains, in conse- quence, little more than a splendid ruin but the ruin out of which most of the subsequent philosophical constructions have 1 It is to he regretted thnt this is not included in Professor Watson's very useful Selections from Kant, THEORIES OF KNOWLEDGE 157 been built. It is at least his merit that, if he could not quite definitely recognize an objective order, he did very fully recognize a subjective one. 1 The view of Kant, that ultimate reality (the noumenon, or thing -in -itself) cannot be known, but only apprehended by faith and feeling, led to several fresh developments in philosophy. His doctrine of positive knowledge is contained in the earlier part of the Critique of Pure Reason. The later part (the Dialectic) contains the grounds for holding that ultimate reality (whether that of the self, the world, or God) is unknowable. In the Critique of Practical Reason he gives his exposition of the rational basis for a moral faith in the reality of the three main forms in which ultimate reality is naturally conceived. In the Critique of Judgment he shows how this faith is further supported by certain forms of feeling or intuition. Many of the subsequent developments of philosophy have arisen by laying special emphasis on one or other of these main aspects of the Kantian system. His more positive doctrine of knowledge has been made the basis for certain forms of Absolute Idealism. His more negative attitude towards the apprehension of ultimate reality has given rise to what is commonly described as Agnosticism. His emphasis on moral faith led to various forms of volitional theory, such as those of Fichte and Schopenhauer, and may also be regarded as furnishing the basis for Pragmatism. His emphasis on feeling or intuition 2 led, among others, to such philosophies as that of Schelling and the more recent speculations of M. Bergson. These developments can be only very briefly touched upon. 3 10. Agnosticism. The philosophical doctrine of Agnos- ticism is the view that absolute reality is unknowable. It has its 1 It may be well to remark at this point that the phrase " The Understanding makes Nature, but does not create it," which is given by Green (Prolegomena to Ethics, n) as a general summary of Kant's doctrine, does not appear to have been used by Kant himself ; and it must be regarded as somewhat misleading. See the Notes by Professor Sorley in Mind, July 1904 and April 1908. a His conception of a "perceptive understanding" should also be connected with this development. 3 Further references to Kant's philosophy will be found in several of the succeeding chapters; especially Book II, Chapters I-V, and Book III, Chapters I and III. 158 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY chief foundation in the Kantian distinction between phenomena and noumena ; but, in Kant's statement, it was somewhat qualified by the recognition of the justification of a rational belief. The more modern form of Agnosticism was developed chiefly by Comte, on the one hand, and by Hamilton, Mansel, and Spencer, on the other. The last-named conceived that we can only have definite knowledge of mind in relation to matter and of matter in relation to mind ; and that the dualism in which we are thus involved can only be over- come by the supposition of an Absolute beyond experience, in which the antithesis is annulled. The Absolute which is thus postulated has to be conceived as super -persona I, 1 and as such it is to be regarded as worthy of worship. Some other forms of Agnosticism admit a much more complete ignorance ; and indeed it would seem that, if we admit as much knowledge as is conceded by Spencer, it ought to be possible to advance somewhat farther. Perhaps the most logical form of Agnosticism is that represented by Comte and the Positivists. According to them, the attempts that men have made to understand the universe that they apprehend, fall into three main stages. We begin with the interpreta- tion of things in an animistic way, as caused by the operation of superhuman agencies ; we advance from this to an inter- pretation by metaphysical conception of substances or forms ; and finally we learn that we are only able to study the laws or orders in which the objects of our experience occur. The view of Comte, however, like most other forms of Agnosticism, is accompanied by the recognition of an order of development in the universe that we apprehend ; and the highest that we know in this order of development is found in the life and aspirations of Humanity. This, rather than an unknowable Absolute, should be taken as the object of our worship and devotion. This kind of Humanism connects somewhat closely with the more recent theory of Pragmatism. 1 See First Principles, p. 109 : " The choice is rather between personality and something higher." What Spencer meant hy this is not very clear ; but it may be interpreted in the light of the conception of the Absolute that has been developed by Mr. Bradley though probably the association of these two writers would not be much approved by either. See also below, Book II, Chapter XI, and the Note at the end of Book III ; also the concluding chapter, 3. THEORIES OF KNOWLEDGE 159 ii. Pragmatism. The eloquent and genial writings of William James have given much currency to this point of view in recent times ; and, like Agnosticism, it may be con- nected closely with the doctrines of Kant. The contention of Kant, that it is by a kind of moral faith that we are able to extend our justifiable beliefs beyond the region of the phenomenal, leads very naturally to the recognition that, even within that region, what we call our knowledge is largely based on faith. It is pointed out that the fundamental pre- suppositions on which science is based are, to a large extent, working hypotheses. Their justification lies in the fact that they enable us to deal in a connected and coherent way with objects that would otherwise present themselves as chaotic. The Pragmatists press this contention to the extent of claim- ing that truth means essentially what is found to work. When stated in this extreme form, the doctrine seems clearly to be erroneous. It omits to recognize the objective conditions of experience, which it is our aim, as far as possible, to ascer- tain. In view of what has already been urged, it seems right to maintain that we mean by truth or correctness the forma- tion of judgments that are in accordance with this objective system. It may be admitted, however, that, in many cases, the only available test of such accordance is to be found in the smooth working of the hypotheses that we form, when applied to the interpretation of particular classes of objects. A theory that fits in with all the known facts to which it is relevant may be seriously false ; it may even be, in Mr. Bradley 's phrase, nothing better than " useful nonsense " ; but at least it has established some claim to be provisionally accepted ; and certainly a theory that does not work in this sense, has to be rejected or modified. It may be admitted also that we have some right to hope that theories or prin- ciples of action that have been found to work satisfactorily over a wide area, may turn out to be approximately or com- pletely true. At any rate, it may certainly be granted that the pragmatists have rendered valuable service in a twofold way, both by shaking men's confidence in dogmas that are at best only working hypotheses, and by encouraging the formation of working hypotheses, even when they are some- what speculative. Newton's saying, hypotheses non fingo, 160 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY has sometimes been interpreted in a wider sense than he appears to have intended, and has been used for the crushing out of speculative enterprise. For this reason William James has been not unjustly praised as a great liberator of human thought. 1 12. Intuitional Idealism. The recent writer who has laid most stress on the intuitional element in knowledge is Pro- fessor Bergson, whose views have gained wide acceptance through his eloquence, his admirable gift of lucid exposition, and his great illustrative power. In some respects he is closely related to the pragmatists. Both schools are opposed to pure " intellectualism " ; but, while the pragmatists appeal against it to a kind of faith, M. Bergson appeals rather to intuition. The justification for such an appeal seems to rest mainly on the fact that intellectual activities are dependent on objective conditions, which are not apprehended by thought at least in the narrower sense of that term. We can think about colours, or about numbers, or about knowledge itself ; but the presuppositions of such thought are not reached by thinking, but by the presence of certain ultimate forms in the structure of our universe, of which even unthinking beings are more or less aware. Professor Bergson, however, as well as some others, appear to mean a good deal more than this in their criticism of the intellect. They mean, not only that intellectual activities involve reference to conditions that are not reached by thinking, but that the exercise of what Wordsworth called the " meddling intellect " tends to distort our apprehension of the structure of reality to cause us to miss what Goethe described as the " geistige Band." It may certainly be admitted that some forms of intellectual activity do have this tendency. We do sometimes " murder to dis- sect." We omit important elements in particular objects 1 James himself put forth some very interesting speculations on the interpretation of the universe as essentially pluralistic speculations which do not seem to have any necessary connection with pragmatism. Dr. Schiller has connected it with a wider view which he calls Humanism. But this term would seem properly to cover positivism and some types of idealism. Mr. Balfour's point of view is some- what akin to pragmatism ; but he does not appear to accept the pragmatic con- ception of truth. Hence his attitude is one of "philosophic doubt," modified by the recognition of " inevitable beliefs." It should be added that the pragmatism of Professor Dewey appears to be considerably different from that of William James. See Macintosh's Problem of Knowledge, pp. 420-1. THEORIES OF KNOWLEDGE 161 especially in objects that are of the nature of organic wholes in order to concentrate bur attention on special aspects. But this is a defect that thought is able to correct. Hegel sought to correct it by a Dialectic, in which the insufficiency of abstract ways of thinking is brought to light. It is true that this is a difficult process ; but it does not appear that there is any real justification for an opposition between intuition and intellectual activity. 13. The New Realism. In recent times there has been a considerable group of writers ! who have laid special stress on the objective aspects of knowledge, as distinguished from the attitude of the individual mind in apprehending its objects. As we have seen, there is apt to be a good deal of confusion with regard to this. Such terms as Sensation, Perception, Imagination, Conception, Thought, may be used either with reference to the attitude of the mind towards an object, or with reference to the object that is apprehended with reference, as Professor Lloyd Morgan puts it, to the appre- hendmg- or the apprehend^. We may say that we get a smell by sensation, or that a smell is a sensation ; that we apprehend a distant object by perception, or that the object thus apprehended is a perception ; that we follow a fairy-tale by imagination, or mat a fairy-tale is an imagina- tion ; that we are aware of a number by conception, or that a number is a conception ; that we interpret the mean- ing of a judgment by thought, or that a judgment is a thought. Professor Meinong has helped very much to make such distinctions clear ; and Mr. Russell, by insisting on the use of such a term as " sense-datum," instead of sensa- tion, as well as in other ways, has rendered valuable service. Others, such as Professors Alexander and Lloyd Morgan and Dr. G. E. Moore, have also done much in the same direction. The general result is to destroy the attitude of pure sub- jectivism ; and this is certainly a result that is of great importance, especially in our own country, where the influence 1 These writers do not all represent quite the same position, and it is conse- quently not very easy to summarize their views. The most complete indication of their general altitude is perhaps to be found in the American volume The New Realism, by Mr. E. R. Holt and others. The general point of view is closely connected with that of Meinong, who may almost be regarded as its founder. I I 162 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY of Berkeley and Hume has been very far-reaching, and often perverts speculative thought in most insidious ways. The New Realists, by insisting on the objectivity of what is appre- hended, have also done much to revive Realism in its older or Platonic sense i.e. in the sense of the recognition of the reality of universals. But they have tended to oppose them- selves to other forms of " idealism," as well as to those that are of a subjective type. Even this is not without justifica- tion ; for the taint of subjectivity runs through a good many idealistic theories. Yet the insistence on the reality of universals brings the New Realism pretty close to such an idealism as that of Plato ; and there are some modern theories, commonly described as idealistic, that are not far removed from this. 1 These we must now very briefly refer to. 14. Absolute Idealism or Cosmlsm. Absolute Idealism is best represented by Hegel ; but there is some ambiguity in his position, which makes it liable to different interpretations. Hence anything that is said about it here can only be taken as my individual way of regarding it. I interpret it as a restatement, in a more systematic form, and with reference to the developments of modern thought, of the position that was so brilliantly sketched and, in its main features, so pro- foundly anticipated by Plato. Thus conceived it is not, simply as a doctrine of knowledge, very far removed from the atti- tude of the New Realists, at least as expounded by some of its interpreters. It differs chiefly in its more decided emphasis on the reality of universals, in its attempt to arrange these in a systematic order, and in its conviction that, when they are so arranged, it becomes apparent that the ultimate interpretation of reality must be spiritual. This is shown by bringing out the implications of the more material concep- tions, and attempting to show that they lead us inevitably to those that have a more spiritual character. The signifi- cance of this is perhaps, to some extent, concealed by the characterization of the fundamental concept as thought - 1 Royce has urged that the point of view of the Vedantists is, in one sense, the extreme opposite of Realism. See The World and the Individual, vol. i, Lecture IV. But even the Vedantists, if I understand them rightly, were Realists in the sense referred to above. They were not snbjcctivists, but upholders of the Absolute One. Even what they call the world of Maya, though characterized as illusory, is regarded as essentially objective. See Note at the end of Book III. THEORIES OF KNOWLEDGE 163 determinations (Denkbcstimmungeri) . This suggests a sub- jective interpretation ; but I understand Hegel to use the term Thought in an essentially objective sense. What he calls the Subjective Notion is only one of the stages in the interpretation of the Universe. The significance of the position that he takes up will, it is hoped, become more apparent as we proceed. The point of view of Mr. Bradley is to some extent akin to that of Hegel ; but he makes a certain opposition between Appearance and Reality, which is rather nearer to the point of view of Kant ; and, by regarding the ultimate apprehension of reality as akin to feeling, rather than to thought, he brings himself into close relation to certain forms of what we have described as intuitional idealism. The chief value of his work, however, lies rather in the searching dialectic that he applies to particular conceptions than in his constructive results. It should be added that his opposi- tion between Appearance and Reality is considerably softened by the recognition of Degrees of Reality, and by the conten- tion that " Reality lives in its Appearances." Other writers, who are largely in sympathy with the Hegelian position, have either interpreted it in ways that are essentially different from that which is here indicated, or have modified it in certain important respects. But these we cannot here consider. 15. General Summary. In the account of different views that has now been given, I have made considerable use of the terms Realism and Idealism. This I have done, as I have previously indicated, somewhat under protest. They are terms that are in common use, but do not very well express the differences that are really fundamental ; and they suggest a general antithesis that can hardly be said to exist. If the term Spiritualism were used, instead of Idealism, it would be more apparent that Realism is not its proper antithesis. Realism is not necessarily Materialism. More often those who are called Realists are Dualists. Sometimes they are essentially Agnostics. Sometimes they are hardly distinguish- able from Idealists, except by their tendency towards Pluralism. Their most general characteristic is their opposition to subjectivism ; but this they share with many who are called 1 64 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY Idealists. No doubt the reason why the term Idealism con- tinues to be used, rather than Spiritualism, is that the latter term has been appropriated to a very different meaning. On the whole, it seems to be hardly possible to find terms that are in all respects suitable to express the most fundamental differences ; but it certainly seems to me that the term " Cosmism " serves the purpose sufficiently well. " A thoroughgoing Idealism," as Caird maintains, 1 "will not fear to admit the reality of that which is other than mind, and even, in a sense, diametrically opposed to it ; for it rests on a perception that these opposites are yet necessarily related, and that both are different and correlated aspects of one whole." It seems clear that the emphasis here is on the conception of the unity of me Cosmos. Compare also the statement in Adamson's Development of Modern Philosophy, vol. ii, pp. 17-18. Surely the treatment of the relation between mind and body in Dr. Bosanquet's Principle of Individuality and Value, Lecture V, ought to make it clear that those who are commonly called idealists do not necessarily disregard or minimize the material aspect of reality. 1 6. Transition to the Following Chapter. It has, of course, not been my object, in this brief sketch, to deal definitely with the special views of individual writers, 2 but rather to indicate the general characteristics of different atti- tudes towards the fundamental problems of knowledge, in order to make more apparent the significance of the position that has been led up to in the foregoing chapters. What is chiefly important is to emphasize the objectivity of know- ledge, on the one hand ; and, on the other hand, the fact that it is not simply the apprehension of individual objects, but of objects that fall into connected orders. What we have now to do is to notice more definitely the chief orders, or modes of systematic unity, that it is necessary to recognize in the apprehension of our Universe. The most fundamental of these are generally referred to as Categories ; and it is to the consideration of these that we now pass. 1 The Evolution of Theology in the Greek Philos 'filters, vol. ii, p. 27. 2 Mr. L. J. Walker's book on Theories of Knowledge may be referred to with advantage, especially on 'Pragmatism and Realism. The recent book on The Problem oj Knowledge, JDV Professor D. C. Macintosh, is more comprehensive. BOOK II SPECIAL ASPECTS OF THE UNIVERSE AS KNOWN FROM NATURE TO SPIRIT CHAPTER I CATEGORIES i. General Meaning of Categories. We have seen that know- ledge means correct belief, together with its grounds ; and that belief means the reference of a judgment to its place in some order. We have now to inquire more definitely what kinds of assertion are made in judgments. Obviously there are considerable differences in the assertions that may be made. If we take the case of dog, for instance, we may assert that it is an animal, that it is large or small, that it is black or some other colour, that it is beautiful or ugly, that it is whole, containing distinguishable parts, that it is an organic being subject to growth and decay, that it resembles some other beings and is very different from others, that it exists at a certain time and place, that it moves or is at rest, that it is conscious, that it barks and bites, that it stands upright or is lying down, that it may be struck and injured, that it may be angry or pleased, that it may possess a bone and be possessed by a master, that it is descended from some other dogs and may be the ancestor of others, that it is a good watchdog, and so forth. Aristotle, reflecting on such assertions, enumerated what he called the categories i.e. the various kinds of assertion that may be made about any object. Other lists of categories have since been made, but not always from the same point of view as that adopted by Aristotle. Categories are sometimes under- stood to mean distinct kinds or classes of things. It was in this sense that the term was used by J. S. Mill. Kant used it in a sense more nearly approximating to that of Aristotle, but excluding certain kinds of relation that may be asserted, such as those of space and time. I intend to use it in a sense that is more nearly that of Aristotle than that of 167 1 68 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY Mill ; but, before proceeding further, it may be well to notice some of the most important ways in which categories have been dealt with. Two distinguishable types of treatment seem to be specially important, that which concerns itself primarily with special aspects of our universe, and that which is con- cerned rather with the universe as a whole. The general considerations about knowledge and reality which have engaged our attention in the last Book have led us to the conception of the Universe that we know, or partly know, as an objective order, or at least a colnbination of objective orders that more or less definitely cohere in a single whole. We have thus to think of it as a many in one,; and, if we fcre to form any intelligible view of it, we must try to see, as clearly as we may, what is to be understood both by its manifoldness and by its unity. There are thus two main problems before us the survey of the manifoldness of the known world and the attempt to discover in what sense it forms a Unity. Both these problems are very difficult, and, in order to deal with them at all, we must try to limit their scope. Obviously, we cannot deal with all the aspects of the world that we know ; and it is perhaps equally obvious that we cannot hope to determine, with any completeness, how its unity is to be characterized. But reflection seems to show that the most fundamental distinctions and relations among the objects that we know can be singled out. Even to do this, however, is rather more than can be attempted here with any thoroughness. What we may hope to do is to indicate the chief ways in which attempts in this direction have been made, and then to try to deal with those aspects of the general problem that appear to be of most fundamental importance. This problem is that which has been commonly described as an inquiry into categories ; and categories may be considered either as conceptions that can be applied to particular objects or as conceptions by which the general structure of the Universe as a whole may be characterized. Different writers have tended to devote their attention mainly to one or other of these ways of regarding categories. We can only very briefly indicate some of the chief methods that have been adopted. On the whole, it seems true to say that the earliest attempts CA TEGORIES 169 were directed mainly to the interpretation of the Universe as a whole. This is not so unnatural as it may at first appear. Special aspects tend to be confusing, and have to wait for the laborious investigations of many inquirers devoting their atten- tion to particular details. The more pressing need is for some general point of view from which the whole may be regarded. There is necessarily some crudity in the earliest attempts to secure this ; though often the crudity is due more to the lack of an adequate language for technical ex- pression than to lack of penetration in the underlying ideas. It is much easier to underrate than to overrate the contribu- tions of the Pythagoreans, Heraclitus, Parmenides, and others to the solution of this problem. But it may suffice for our purpose to begin with a reference to Plato. 2. Plato's Ideas or Forms. It is not obvious that Plato's conception of Ideas or Forms, which appears to have been suggested by the Pythagorean doctrine of Numbers or mathematical determinations, is always clear and consistent. Attempts 'have been made to distinguish different stages in the development of his conception, and also to distinguish those phases of the general theory that are purely Platonic from those that are rather to be referred to Socrates ; but with these problems, which are still 1 highly controversial, we need not here concern ourselves. 1 It is enough for our present purpose to notice that the Forms on which he appears to lay special emphasis are such as Being, Unity, Plurality, Likeness, Rest, Motion, Life, Mind, Beauty, Goodness. These are evidently conceptions of a very general kind that may be predicated of objects, and consequently categories in the sense in which that term is here understood. But Plato does not seem to have made any attempt to give a complete enumeration of them. His interest in them was mainly that of discovering their place in ultimate reality, and the sense in which they could be regarded as capable of being com- bined with one another and entering into the composition of particular things. It is noteworthy that he omits purely sensible qualities, such as colours, apparently regarding these 1 For the latest views about Plato, reference should be made to Professor Burnet's Greek Philosophy (Thales to Plato), Part I, Book III. 170 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY as relatively unreal. Much of his work is dialectical, bring- ing out the difficulties that are involved in the application of particular conceptions, such as unity and plurality, to individual objects ; and showing how reflection on these difficulties leads us to modify our first view of the conceptions themselves. On the whole, it is clear that he does not quite provide what is wanted for our present purpose. But his dialectical method has been of great service in subsequent speculations ; in some of his later dialogues the dialectical method of Hegel is pretty definitely anticipated ; and the special emphasis that he laid on the Form of Good, as furnishing the ultimate inter- pretation of the others, retains a high degree of interest, and will have to be referred to again at a later stage. 1 3. Aristotle's Categories. Aristotle seems to have been the first who attempted to make a definite list of categories. In drawing up this list, he set aside his more purely meta- physical conceptions, such as Form and Matter, Potentiality and Actuality, and his four Causes. 2 These would apply to all objects, regarded in certain aspects, and are consequently not distinct assertions that can be made about particular objects. The categories that he enumerated were Substance, Quantity, .Quality, Relation, Time, Place, Position, Posses- sion, Action, Passion. When we are dealing with any particular object, we have first to inquire what it is. This would be answered by naming the species to which it belongs ; and this Aristotle called its ovaia or Substance, which is thus to be taken as the first of the categories. 3 This use of the term " Substance " is somewhat peculiar. " Kind " would perhaps better express what is intended. The other categories give the properties and accidents of the object in question. They have been a good deal criticized on the ground of redundancy. " Relation " might be taken to include several of the others. On the other hand, if we admit that it is desirable to enumerate different kinds of relation, it might 1 Especially in Book III, Chapter IV. a See Zeller's Aristotle, vol. i, chapter vi, and Mr. Joseph's Introduction to Logic, chapter iii. 3 Aristotle distinguished two senses of oi>ma, applying it both to universal and to individual things ; hut it is not necessary for our present purpose to take par- ticular account of this distinction. CA TEGORIES 171 be urged that we ought also to enumerate different kinds of quantity and quality. It is noteworthy that the list omits such characteristics as beauty and goodness, unless these may be held to be covered by " quality." A difficulty presents itself also in determining what may properly be regarded as an object i.e. as a logical subject to which predicates may be attached. It would seem that the subject spoken about might be a quality or relation, and might have other qualities, quantities, or relations ascribed to it ; and so with some of the other categories. A colour, for instance, might be said to be pure, beautiful, intense, and so forth. One of Aristotle's objections to Plato seems to depend on a failure to recognize this. He objects to the treatment of goodness as a single fundamental conception, on the ground that it may be predicated in any of the categories. 1 A substance, a quantity, a quality, or a relation may be good ; and so with the other categories. This objection would apply to many of the Platonic Forms, such as Being, Unity, Likeness, etc. But this seems only to mean that one conception may be predicated of another ; and there does not appear to be any reason against this. There may be more or less of a quality and of an action. On the whole, it may be doubted whether Aristotle's list of categories has much permanent value, though it was no doubt useful as a first attempt. 4. Kant's Categories. Kant criticized the categories of Aristotle as being redundant and not arranged on any definite principle, and also on some other grounds that are less con- vincing. He took, however, as the basis for his own list another aspect of Aristotle's philosophy viz. his analysis of the logical judgment, as developed in more modern Formal Logic. He was thus led to recognize Quantity, Quality, Relation, and Modality as his chief classes ; and under each of these he distinguished three categories, making a list of twelve in all. He regarded these as the modes in which a finite or discursive understanding introduces unity into the disconnected manifold of sense -material. Time and space he excluded, as being the fundamental 'forms of sense -perception, rather than modes of thought. He conceived, however, that 1 Nicomachean Ethics, Book I, chapter vi. i;2 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY the categories have to be schematized i.e. interpreted in terms of space and time, especially the latter before they can be used in dealing with the material that is supplied by the senses. This schematization he considered to be the work of the constructive imagination. The categories of quantity become schematized as Njumber the kind of magnitude that is reached by the successive counting of units ; and those of quality as Degree or intensive magnitude. Thus, in effect, both these sets of categories come to be regarded as quantita- tive ; and Kant characterizes them both as mathematical categories. Quality, in the proper sense, is not recognized as a category at all, but treated as one of the characteristics of our sense-material. Causation (which is derived from the form of the hypothetical judgment if A, then B) becomes schematized as a uniform mode of sequence. The others we need not here notice ; but these three are of some im- portance for our purpose, as we shall have occasion to refer to them in the following chapters. 1 It seems clear that Kant's method of deriving the categories is highly artificial. The antithesis between sense and thought, on which it is based, is open to serious objection ; and the attempt to bridge the gulf between them by the constructive imagination only serves to betray the weakness of the antithesis. He describes the imagination as a blind faculty working in the depths of the soul, 2 and meditating between sense and thought. Imagination is, in fact, the Cinderella of the Kantian philosophy, doing all the real work in obscurity, while her more dignified sisters Perception and Conception stand aloof in helpless idleness. He fails to recognize the objective order in our universe, which underlies 1 Kant's treatment of reciprocal action as connected with the disjunctive judg- ment lias already been noticed in Book I, Chapter V, 8. 2 Compare this with Hume's "magical faculty," referred to above in Book I, Chapter IX, 2 ; and on the place of imagination in Kant's system, sec Caird's I'liilosofhy of Kant, Book I, chapter v. The recognition of imagination as antici- pating the work of conception points to the conclusion that categories may be regarded as being implied in the apprehension of objects by animals, as well as by the thinking consciousness. Hut it remains true that it is only in conception that UK- categories as such are apprehended. On the sense in which categoi ies are involved in the animal consciousness, reference may be made to Stout's Mmnuil <>/ Psychology, Book III, Part II, chapter i, and to Lloyd Morgan's Animal Life and Intelligence, chapter ix. CATEGORIES 173 alike all our apprehensions by sense -perception, imagination, and thought ; and hence he is perpetually led into unreal antitheses, which he can only solve by artificial modes of mediation. If these objections arc sound, it is not surprising that his list of categories is very imperfect. The omission of quality, in the proper sense of the word, must surely be regarded as a grave defect. Number and Degree seem to have as good a right to be regarded as fundamental concep- tions as any of those that he describes as categories. 1 Such conceptions as Value and End, Beauty and Organic Unity, are dealt with by Kant in his Critiques of Practical Reason and Judgment, but are not regarded as categories. There are grounds for these distinctions in tke Kantian system ; but there do not appear to be any in the nature of things. 5. Hegel's Dialectic. Hegel's point of view is to a con- siderable extent similar to that of Plato, whose dialectic method he seeks to develop farther. Plato applied his dialectic in the main (except in some of his later dialogues) for the purpose of leading up to certain fundamental conceptions. Hegel, in his Logic, rather assumes that we know certain fundamental conceptions ; and seeks mainly to show how, by a dialectical method, we may pass from one conception to another, and so arrange them all in a definite order. His interest in the categories is rather as modes of characterizing the Absolute, or the universe as a whole, than as predicates of particular objects. Several philosophers have tried to define reality in general by some one conception. Parmcnides, for instance, took Being, the Pythagoreans Number (understood in a somewhat wide sense for mathematical determinations), Spinoza Substance, and some others Mechanical Action. Hegel's main object seems to have been to show that no one of these conceptions, taken by itself, can be regarded as an adequate characterization of the whole. He shows this by urging that each of these conceptions implies another which is distinct from it and, to some extent, opposed to it. By 1 See, on this point, Caird's Critical Philosophy of Kant, Book I, chapter v, and compare what is said below in Chapter III, 4. Professor Alexander (Mind, January 1913, p. 20) defends Kant's view, but on grounds that seem to me insufficient. 174 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY beginning with the simplest of them mere existence we may thus be led, by observing their implications, to more and more complex conceptions, and at last to one that of self- revealing Spirit which is sufficiently comprehensive to define the whole. This is evidently a very large undertaking ; and, whatever view we may take of the success with which it has been carried out, it can hardly be denied that it is one of the most remarkable achievements in the whole history of philosophy. To attempt to examine it in detail would be far beyond our present scope ; but we may notice briefly some general criticisms that have been made upon it. One of the most interesting criticisms is that of Dr. B. Croce, 1 who objects to the emphasis that is laid by Hegel on antithesis as the instrument for unfolding the implications of conceptions. He points out that, in many cases, it is the counterpart, rather than the opposite, that is implied in the meaning of a particular conception. 2 This appears to be true. Being may be said to imply Non -being ; Order may be said to imply Disorder ; in the sense that no definite meaning can be assigned to these conceptions without refer- ence to their opposites. On the other hand, Unity implies Plurality, which can hardly be described as its opposite. Still less can Priority be held to be the opposite of Posteriority, which it implies. Dr. McTaggart, in his very acute and sympathetic exposition of Hegel's dialectic, has noted that, as the process advances, the aspect of simple opposition becomes less and less pronounced. 3 It is probably true that Hegel laid undue stress on negativity as the chief factor in the development of implications. But, as Dr. McTaggart urges, this does not appear to invalidate his general method. The essential point is that our fundamental conceptions, when clearly defined, are seen to carry implications that lead us beyond themselves. It is important to remember that it was not his object to throw discredit on any fundamental concep- ' What is Living and what is Dead in the Philosophy of Hegel, especially chapter v. z Similar objections have often been urged from a less sympathetic point of view. See, for instance, Hobhouse's Theory of Knowledge, pp. 200-2. 3 Studies in the Hegelian Dialectic, especially chapter iv. See also his Com- mentary on Hegel's Logic, where the statements in the earlier work are somewhat modified. CATEGORIES 17$ tions, but only to bring out their inadequacy as complete characterizations of the Universe. 1 He did not reject any of the fundamental conceptions, but only sought to confine them to their proper places within the system of reality. Again, Hegel's system has often been criticized e.g. by William James and Dr. Ward as being too purely intel- lectual. It is said to be a Panlogism. Even Mr. Bradley referred to the " unearthly ballet of bloodless categories." 2 Categories must of course, in a sense, be bloodless. They are pure imiversals ; and life comes into them only when they are embodied in individual objects. But the embodiment of the tmiversals is described by Hegel in his Philosophies of Nature and Spirit. The former of these seems highly un- satisfactory ; but the Philosophy of Spirit at least has been found enlightening even by many who attach little importance to the Logic. I believe, however, that what is meant by some of those who complain of Hegel's method as being too purely intel- lectual, is that he does not give a sufficiently definite place to Feeling and Value. Mr. Bradley considers that the ultimate interpretation of the Universe can only be apprehended by a kind of Feeling. Dr. McTaggart agrees with this at least to the extent of representing Feeling, especially the feeling of Love, as the most ultimate conception that can be used in the characterization of the Absolute. 3 Dr. Bosanquet also, in his exposition of the conception of the Absolute, 4 has laid special emphasis on the idea of Value, which certainly is closely connected with Feeling. It is possible that Hegel did not sufficiently recognize this at least if we consider only the purely logical part of his work. Certainly, if this conception were made more prominent, it would bring the 1 It should be borne in mind that conceptions, not in themselves contradictory, may become contradictory when regarded as characterizations of the whole. This appears to be Hegel's point. He is regarding them primarily as definitions of the Absolute. 3 Principles of Logic, p. 533. The whole passage in which this phrase occurs is highly significant. 3 See Studies in the Hegelian Dialectic, chapter vi, Studies in Hegelian Cosmology, chapter ix, and A Commentary on Hegel's Logic, p. 310. 4 See his two volumes on The Principle of Individuality and Value and The Value and Destiny of the Individual. 1 76 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY Hegelian system more fully into harmony with that of Plato, in which the conception of Good holds the highest place. In any case, it is pretty clear that it would be a mistake to regard Hegel's treatment of the categories as a closed system, into which no modifications can be introduced. The categories are not to be thought of as unfolding themselves in a purely mechanical fashion. 1 Their evolution is rather, in M. Bergson's phrase, a " creative evolution." They are unfolded by the discovery of fresh implications ; and the discovery of these depends on the fact that the whole is a connected order, in which each element implies many others perhaps, in the Mid, all others. Hegel himself did not rigidly adhere to one unchangeable arrangement in his exposi- tion of the categories ; but it is perhaps true that his general method gives the impression of a more 'mechanical movement than he really intended. It is probably the case, as Green said, that " it will all have to be done over again." It would indeed be surprising if one man, however great his genius, had succeeded all at once in achieving finality in so vast an undertaking. 6. More Recent Treatments of the Categories. Since the time of Hegel no one has attempted any exposition of the categories that is comparable with his in systematic thorough- ness and completeness. Mill's account of categories as kinds, which has already been referred to, does not appear to be of sufficient importance to require any further notice. A few words ought, however, to be given to Mr. Bradley 's method of treatment, which is probably the most remarkable since that of Hegel. His method, like that of Hegel, is dialectical ; but he has not attempted to deal systematically with all the categories, and his results are, in general, more purely negative than those of Hegel. His dialectic may, in this respect, be com- pared with that of Zcno in ancient times. His object, as I understand it, is to show the imperfections that attach to all fundamental conceptions, except that of the Absolute, and the unsatisfactoriness of all attempts at a purely intellectual 1 See, on this"ipoint, the remarks by W. Wallace in Lectures and Essays on Natural Theology and Ethics, p. 549. CATEGORIES 17? construction. Ultimate consistency is to be found only in the Absolute, which could be supposed to be apprehended only by Feeling or Intuition. This rather negative conclu- sion is somewhat modified by the view that " Reality lives in its Appearances," and that, though Appearance cannot be made self-consistent, a certain degree of reality may yet be ascribed to it. Hence, instead of saying, with Hegel, that " what is actual is rational," he prefers to state his conviction that what is most spiritual is most real. His arguments in support of this position, if not wholly convincing, are certainly urged with a great deal of force. This much, I think, may be conceded, that the attempt to apply ultimate conceptions in the interpretation of experience becomes in- creasingly difficult as we advance from the simpler concep- tions to those that are more complex. Being is a very simple conception ; and, as it is applicable to everything to which any kind of existence or reality can be ascribed, it does not present much difficulty. But, just for this reason, it throws no real light on any particular object. Number is a more complex conception, and it is more difficult to see in what ways it can be rightly applied. On the other hand, when it is rightly applied, it may enable us to discover a good deal about the objects to which it is applied. 1 Spiritual Unity is a conception that is still more complex and difficult to apply properly ; but, if we could apply it rightly, it would perhaps give us the key to the general structure of the universe. I think it is true to say that conceptions of this kind are so difficult, that we have to acknowledge that we never have any full apprehension of their significance. And 1 The extent to which it can do this was no doubt grossly exaggerated by the Pythagoreans ; and perhaps it tends also to be a good deal exaggerated in the statements of some of our modern mathematical physicists such as that which is quoted from Lord Kelvin by M. L. Poincare (The New Physics, p. 19) : " I often say that if you can measure that of which you are speaking and express it by a number you know something of your subject ; but if you cannot measure it nor express it by a number, your knowledge is of a sorry kind. . . . You are hardly advanced towards science, whatever the subject may he." Another of Lord Kelvin's sayings that has been quoted is that "mathematics is the only true metaphysics." Great is the daring of mathematicians ! For further observations on the extent to which purely mathematical determinations may be used in the interpretation of reality, see below, Chapter III, 3, Chapter V, 8, Book III, Chapter III, 5. 6, 8, and Chapter IV, 2. See also Macintosh's Problem of Knowledge, p. 464. 12 1 78 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY it may be true that the kind of knowledge that would enable us to apprehend the full meaning of such conceptions would be best characterized as Intuition, or perhaps even as Feeling. I am not sure that even Hegel would have denied this. It does not appear, however, that the recognition of this need interfere with the definite application of other conceptions to objects that are appropriate to them, or need be taken to imply that such objects are properly to be called unreal. But this is a point on which something further will have to be stated in a later chapter. As we have already noticed, the conception of Value is closely connected with that of Feeling. Values are primarily felt ; or, at least, feeling may be said to anticipate the judgment of value ; ' and it is doubtful whether what has ultimate value can be fully apprehended at all. This also will have to be considered later. The emphasis laid on Value by Dr. Bosanquet has already been noticed. Lotze also attached very special importance to it ; 2 and it has a prominent place in the discussion of fundamental conceptions by Meinong and his school, as well as by several other writers. What Meinong calls Gcgenstandstheorie has a consider- able bearing on the discovery of ultimate conceptions. It may be regarded, to some extent, as an attempt to discover categories in the sense understood by Mill i.e. the different kinds of objects ; but it is a much more elaborate and satisfactory attempt ; and when such an attempt is thoroughly carried out, it is not far removed from other ways of regarding the categories. Driesch's Ordnungslehre is an attempt of a somewhat similar kind, and has the merit of giving special promincnoe to the important conception of Order. 7. Summary about Categories. It appears from this general survey that there are different ways in which funda- mental categories may be conceived, or at least different ways in which the study of them may be approached. The simplest 1 See below, Chapter VIII, 1-3. 2 For some criticism of his use of it, reference may be made to Jones's Philosophy of Lotze, especially chapter ii. See also the article on Lotze by Dr. J. T. Merz in the Encydopcedia\Britannica. Among recent writers who, have attached special importance to the conception of value, Professors Eucken and Hoffding may be mentioned. CATEGORIES 179 way would seem to be that from which Aristotle set out, according to which they are regarded primarily as predicates that can be attached to distinguishable objects. The categories that present themselves as most definitely applicable, from this point of view, are those of Kind, Quality, and Quantity ; for, though the consideration of these involves comparison of one object with others, yet the comparison is primarily with the view of distinction rather than of connec- tion. From these categories we may then proceed to those that involve more direct and positive modes of relation. The chief of these would seem to be spatial, temporal, and causal relations. These are somewhat secondary in the Aristotelian mode of treatment, but become fundamental in the Kantian system. Causation is, however, the one that stands out as specially calling for consideration ; since time and space may be treated rather as modes of unity that are applied to the universe as a whole except in so far as they are merely regarded as particular forms of magnitude. Next to these we have to notice categories which may be characterized rather as modes of unity than as modes of relation i.e. ways in which complex objects may be characterized. Organic unity, for instance, and the kind of unity that belongs to conscious life are obvious instances of this. These might no doubt be described as Kinds ; but this would only be a first attempt to characterize them. They have a certain complexity which has to be specially considered. Aristotle separated the con- sideration of this from the treatment of the categories, re- garding it rather as belonging to the problem of fundamental forms ; just as he dealt with the general subject of causation also as not properly belonging to the study of categories. This is largely a question of methodology ; and it must suffice for our present purpose to urge that all the con- ceptions here referred to appear to be of fundamental im- portance. Whether they are rightly to be called categories or not, would depend on the exact interpretation that is to be given to that term ; and it is hardly possible to decide that question satisfactorily until we have given some attention to the significance of these fundamental conceptions. Finally, the consideration of modes of unity leads us to the problem with regard to the kind of unity that can be ascribed to the i8o ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY universe as a whole. It seems true to say that it was primarily with this question that Plato and Hegel were concerned. The consideration of the universe as a whole may lead to some modification of the way in which the characterization of particular parts of it is to be interpreted. Hegel, in particular, in urging the insufficiency of special categories, as applied to the whole, is at the same time criticizing their application to special aspects of the whole. He does not deny, however, that those that cannot properly be applied to the whole (the conception of a " whole," indeed, being itself one of these) may yet be applied to special aspects of the universe. Now, if it were the object of the present work to con- struct a complete system of metaphysics, it would evidently be necessary to discuss fully all the fundamental conceptions that can be applied either to particular objects as such, to the relations between objects, to their modes of unity, and to the whole within which they are included. But that is not our design. The attempt to discuss and arrange the categories has to be regarded by us here as one of those special sciences that we have to take account of, in the light of what has been brought out by those who have made it their special study ; not as a subject that we can hope to deal with thoroughly in this work. I conceive that philosophy, like other forms of human knowledge, is built up by a co- operative process. What is being attempted here is a general survey of results, rather than the thorough discussion of any single question. Reference must be made to other works for the complete examination and ordering of the categories, just as it must with regard to particular points in psychology and other special sciences. Some further observations, however, may here be in place with regard to the method in which it seems most suitable for us to consider it here. 8. Plan of the Succeeding Chapters. From all that has now been stated, it is evident that the discussion of categories is a very difficult subject, which could only be satisfactorily dealt with in a treatise devoted entirely to itself. For our present purpose, it does not appear to be necessary to attempt anything quite so elaborate. It must at least, for the present, CATEGORIES 181 suffice to call attention to some fundamental conceptions that are recognized, in some form or other, in almost all lists of categories, and that are generally acknowledged to be among the most important. Certain fundamental conceptions have already been considered, such as Order, Truth, Reality, Possi- bility, and the like. These are conceptions of a very general kind. What we have now to notice are certain determinations of a more specific kind. As it was determinations of this kind that Aristotle described as categories, we may approach the subject in a manner somewhat similar to that which he appears to have adopted. Some comparatively simple considerations may enable us to single out the conceptions that are most important from this point of view ; and we may then try to deal with them in a more detailed way. We may begin with the predication of Uriiversals. " This is a dog " is a judgment referring a particular object to a general class. It is what Aristotle would call a predica- tion of substance. " This is a colour," " This is a pain," ' This is a judgment," " This is a nation," are judgments of the same type ; and such judgments may be taken as the beginning of definite predication. In Mr. Bradley 's language, they refer a " what " to a " that." Following Aristotle, we may proceed next to judgments of quantity : " This dog is large," " This colour is bright," " This pain is intense," " This judgment is particular/' " This nation is small." Quantity, however, is of different types. We may distinguish number, degree, and extensive and protensive magnitude. Quality also may be taken to cover several different things. In a wide sense, even quantitative deter- minations are often called qualities. In a somewhat narrower sense, it may be taken to include distinct kinds and also the smaller shades of difference that exist within kinds. It is probably best to confine it to the latter. Illustrations of qualitative judgments would be such as the following : " This dog is ugly," " This colour is pink," " This pain is dis- agreeable," " This judgment is hypothetical," " This nation is courageous." Next we come to relation, which covers an even greater variety of modes of predication. The following may be taken as instances : " This dog is chasing a cat," " This colour is reflected from a precious stone," " This pain 1 82 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY is caused by a bruise/' " This judgment is based upon a series of experiments," ' This nation is struggling for inde- pendence." The characteristic of these is that they express some mode of determining or being determined i.e. they contain some conception of ground or cause. The relation, however, might also be that of inclusion within some group or unity e.g. " This dog belongs to a pack of hounds," " This colour is only found in stones of a particular kind," " This pain is one of the symptoms of a dangerous disease," " This judgment is one of a series connected with the properties of gases," " This nation is one of the Allies." Reflecting on such instances, I am led to believe that predication may be said to consist either in (a) simply referring an object to a kind or universal, or (6) ascribing to it more or less of some characteristic, or (c) noting some charac- teristic which distinguishes it from other objects of the same kind, or (rf) connecting it with other objects by some relation of a more or less definitely causal kind, or (e) grouping it with some other objects in a way that is not explicitly causal. Hence I take as the most fundamental categories for our present purpose, Kind, Quality, Quantity, Causation, Syste- matic Unity. It may be objected to this at once that it omits one of the large classes given by Kant viz. that of Modality. But Modality seems to belong either to the copula of a judgment, or to some condition or hypothesis on which it depends, rather than to its predicate. 1 It may be illustrated by the following instances : " This dog is probably fierce," " This colour might be called purple," " This pain may be lasting," " This judgment must be false," " This nation is certainly enterprising." Now, the meaning of possibility, probability, necessity, certainty, and the like, has already been sufficiently indicated. 3 They do not appear to be properly regarded as categories, in the sense in which we are here interpreting that term. But it may be objected further that our categories do not include some of those that were previously referred to, such as rest and motion, standing and lying, possessing and 1 See Book I, Chapter V, 8. ' Especially in Book I, Chapter VIII, 7. CATEGORIES 183 being possessed, goodness, beauty, value, and possibly some others, such as change and growth, and even being itself. To this I should answer that goodness, beauty, and the more general conception of value may, in a wide sense, be regarded as qualities ; that rest and motion, standing and lying, express complex spatial relations, and are sufficiently covered by the general conception of space (which appears to be a mode of extensive magnitude), together with that of grouping ; that change and growth involve causation, together with quality ; that possessing and being possessed may be regarded as modes of grouping ; that being, as has been already noted, means reference to some specific order, and has been already dealt with. Now, kinds may, in a wide sense, be included under quality ; and, in so far as they serve as a basis of classifica- tion, they may be included under the general conception of grouping. Hence I take as the fundamental categories Quali- tative Conceptions, Quantitative Conceptions, Causation, and Systematic Unity. All of these, however, include concep- tions of very diverse kinds. These we must now endeavour to deal with in order. The justification for this particular selection, if it can be justified, will, it is hoped, become more apparent in the course of their treatment than it could well be made by any further discussion of a general kind at this stage. But I have thought it well to indicate beforehand the more general aspects of the subject, and to acknow- ledge that its more thorough treatment is being evaded. The fundamental conceptions involved in the structure of our universe have to be gradually spelt out, just as scholars have discovered the alphabet in the Hieroglyphics and other obscure writings ; and it is probably well 1 to recognize that we are not yet in possession of the complete alphabet. 1 1 The article by Adamson on " Categories " in the Encyclopaedia Britaunica may be consulted with advantage on this subject. CHAPTER II QUALITATIVE CONCEPTIONS i . Quality and Kind. The objects that we apprehend are very different in kind. Colours, sounds, smells, etc., have indeed in common the general mode in which they are appre- hended, the physical conditions on which they depend, and certain characteristics of intensity, duration, and feeling tone. Otherwise they are quite different ; and it does not seem possible to give any account of the ways in which they differ. They do not form members in a continuous order, with refer- ence to their place in which they could be arranged and described. The differences between complex objects material things, plants, animals, human beings, social unities, and the like are not of quite so sharp a kind. They can be analysed ; and some of the parts into which they can be resolved are identical in nature. Yet it does not seem possible to give an account of the life and growth of organisms by means of any principles that are found in purely material objects ; nor can consciousness be described in any terms that relate to the unconscious. The transition from the merely animal to the human may be more continuous ; but even in this case there is a gulf which it is not easy to bridge. Hence we have to recognize that there are differences in the world that we know that are of such a nature that it is difficult, if not impossible, to express them in any common terms. We have to say that some objects have characteristics which other objects lack ; and that no account of the objects that lack these characteristics would yield any definite anticipation of the characteristics that are missing. Other qualities, however, are not so sharply marked off. White is very different from black ; but, by taking the series QUALITATIVE CONCEPTIONS 185 of greys, we may pass from white to black without any appre- ciable break. Similarly, red is very different from blue ; but we can pass from one to the other, through the various shades of yellow and green, without coming upon any gulf. Even in this case, however, the progress is not quite straight- forward. There seems to be a change of direction when we come to yellow. If we did not already know what green and blue are, we should not be able to anticipate them from our knowledge of red and yellow. But, so long as we are proceeding in a single direction, it seems possible to antici- pate the different shades. Even Hume, who maintained that all perceptions are distinct, admitted that it might be possible to anticipate different shades of colour. 1 In this case there is a 'definite and almost continuous order. Reflection on such cases seems to show that we may make a distinction between differences of kind and differences that are purely qualitative. It might, no doubt, be urged that the latter partake of the nature of quantity. We may say that a colour is more or less red or more or less blue ; and thus it might be said that the difference is rather one of degree than of quality. It may even be contended that a shade of colour that lies between red and yellow should be regarded as a compound, containing certain degrees of red and certain degrees of yellow. But it is not altogether easy to justify such a contention. All shades of colour seem to present themselves to us as simple. If we knew no other colours than pink, green, purple, and grey, it would hardly occur to us that they are not simple colours. If they are not simple, white, black, red, and blue, which are the most obviously simple, may not really be unanalysable. At any rate, the possibility of continuous transition seems to differen- tiate such distinctions from that between distinct kinds of sense material. We cannot make any similar transition from scarlet to the sound of a trumpet or the smell of a rose. It must be admitted, however, that, even in some cases in which the difference appears to be one of quality rather than of kind, a continuous transition is not easy. In passing from a sweet taste to a sour one, or from a hot temperature to a cold one, we do not seem to pass through a continuous ' See below, 5, and Chapter III, 4. 1 86 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY series of positive experiences, but rather to descend to a zero -point, in which there is no specific experience of taste or temperature, and then to advance from zero in a new direction. Hence it might be urged that we class these experiences together as tastes and temperatures respectively, not because they are members of continuous scales, but only because they are apprehended in similar ways, and have similar physical conditions. Thus there is some ground for doubting whether all distinctions between sensible qualities may not be essentially differences of kind. This doubt might, however, be equally well turned in the opposite direction. It might be urged that, with fuller knowledge, the differences between the sensible qualities that we apprehend might no longer appear to be abrupt. It is obvious that there is no reason for supposing that the sensible qualities that we appre- hend are the only ones that might be apprehended by means of more fully developed organs ; and, if we had a more complete apprehension of sensible qualities, they might very well present themselves to us as a more continuous order. In the meantime, it seems best to recognize that some of the sensible qualities that we apprehend form continuous orders, while others are abruptly marked off from one another. 1 When we pass from sensible qualities to objects of a more complex kind, we encounter somewhat similar problems. The distinction between a Shakespeare and a Caliban seems to be essentially qualitative, in the sense in which the term is here employed. Great as the difference is, there appears to be nothing that the former knows and feels which might not be known and felt by the latter ; and there are many grades of human life between the two, differing from one another in ways that are almost imperceptible. When, on the other hand, we pass from human life to that of the lower animals, the difference strikes us as being rather one of kind. A parrot can be taught to utter words, but not to use them as instruments of thought. A monkey can imitate almost any human action, but it does not appear that it can carry on any process of reasoning. A plant, so far as we know, does not even feel. A rock does not even grow. 1 Mill's treatment of differences of kind is still worth referring to. See his System of Logic, Book I, chapter vii, 4, and Book III, chapter xiv. QUALITATIVE CONCEPTIONS 187 Grains of sand do not even cohere together. Yet the doctrine of evolution has gone some way to break down distinctions that were once thought to be abrupt ; and further knowledge might very well enable us to see that the transitions from one type to another are more continuous than is even now commonly supposed. This is a problem of very fundamental importance, and we shall have to refer to it again later. The abrupt separa- tion of kinds is the principal obstacle in the way of regarding the world that we know as a complete order. But with that problem we are not at present concerned. 2. Quality and Substance. Qualities (using the term in its widest sense) are commonly referred to substances. Colours are referred to things in space, growth to organic beings, psychical conditions to conscious centres, and so on. According to Descartes, there are two fundamental types of substance to which qualities may be referred, the material (i.e. the spatial) and the conscious. Berkeley, on the other hand, contended that all qualities might simply be referred to conscious centres. Hume denied the legitimacy of the reference to substance at all. Much turns on what is to be understood by a substance. Some further reference will have to be made to this at a later stage ; z but a few observations seem to be called for at this point. It is very obvious that there is some sense in which quali- ties may be referred to things. 2 A fire is a source of colour and warmth ; and we apprehend the fire as existing at a certain place and time, and standing in various relations to surrounding objects. This may be expressed by saying, in the phraseology previously adopted, that the spatial and temporal orders intersect ; and that at one of their points of intersection, the qualitative orders of colour and tempera- ture also meet. If we simply understand by a substance such a focusing of the content of various orders, it is then 1 See Chapter V, 5. a Anaxagoras seems to have been the first who definitely laid emphasis on qualities, as distinguished from substances. See Burnet's Early Greek Philosophy, pp. 304-8. If it is right to interpret him in this way, it is probable that this aspect of his philosophy marked as great an advance as his introduction of the conception of order or his somewhat vague reference to vovg. 1 88 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY to be regarded as a special mode of unity ; and it is in that connection that it will have to be considered. If it is taken to mean more than this, it is certainly not easy to see what more it can be supposed to mean. The notion of substance in any other sense was sufficiently exploded by Locke. Kant indeed reintroduced it in the sense of persistence in the midst of change ; and in that sense also we shall have to consider it later. As regards the view of Berkeley, it is no doubt true that qualities are apprehended at conscious centres ; and that distinguishable modes of apprehension have to be recog- nized at those centres ; and also that there is a certain per- sistence throughout change at these centres. This will have to be dealt with at a later stage in the discussion of consciousness and personality. Substantiality of a res cogitans, in the sense understood by Descartes and Berkeley, seems illegitimate, and was sufficiently refuted by Hume and Kant. What we have to recognize is that there is an order of apprehension which intersects the more objective orders. For the present, at least, this appears to be a sufficient account of the way in which qualities are referred to things and to minds. 3. Primary and Secondary Quatities. Attempts have fre- quently been made to distinguish between the primary and secondary qualities that may be referred to particular objects. The primary qualities are generally understood to be mainly spatial, modes of extension and movement ; and consequently they do not at present concern us. 1 The secondary qualities are such as colour, sound, smell, taste, temperature, and the like. These are conceived as being subjective, in a sense in which the primary are not. How far this view is justi- fied, we shall have occasion to consider at a later stage. In the meantime, we may notice that die distinction turns 1 See Hook III, Chapter I, 9. Hamilton recognized also secundo-primary qualities, using this term as an equivalent for what Locke called Powers. See N'ote D in his edition of Re-id's Works. These are the properties by which one body affects another, as when wax is melted by a flame. The consideration of these seems to belong properly to causation. The use of the term Qualities as including primary, secundo-primary, secondary, and tertiary characteristics of objects is misleading. It would be better to call them Attributes or Properties. But this Use of the term Qualities is perhaps too well established to be readily abandoned., QUALITATIVE CONCEPTIONS 189 largely on the relative permanence of the one kind of quality and the relative variability of the other. The spatial extent of the objects that we apprehend, changes much less readily than their colour or temperature. Tastes, smells, and sounds are, on the whole, still less permanent characteristics of com- plex objects. Colours vary to a considerable extent with different persons, different conditions of light, different points of view from which the objects are regarded, and other circumstances. Hence they have been supposed to be purely subjective. This view has been recently met by the supposi- tion that all the colours that can under any circumstances be apprehended in connection with any object may be actually contained in it and that it is only due to subjective limitations that they are not always apprehended. In what sense any qualities can be properly said to be contained in an object, we shall have to consider in a later chapter. 1 In the mean- time, it may suffice to note that the method of interpreta- tion here suggested, makes any such supposition unnecessary. If the presence of characteristics in an object means only that certain orders intersect at a particular point, it is obvious that there may be great variations in the relative permanence of any particular association of qualities. 4. Tertiary Qualities. It has recently been suggested that there are other qualities connected with particular objects which present themselves as even more subjective than those that are called secondary, and which might consequently be fittingly described as tertiary. These are the qualities that are, more or less definitely, connected with the fact of valua- tion, pleasantness, beauty, goodness, and the like. A fire, for instance, may have a definite position in space, which it maintains for a considerable time. The characteristics involved directly in that spatial position would be its primary quali- ties. Its temperature and the brightness of its flames would be regarded as secondary. The pleasantness of its warmth, the beauty of its form, its exhilarating power, and its value for various human purposes, would constitute its tertiary qualities. It is certainly more difficult to regard such characteristics as inhering in the fire than it is in the case 1 Chapter V. 190 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY of either the primary or the secondary qualities ; but it is not more difficult to interpret them in the way that has already been suggested. But the discussion of this subject belongs properly to the part in which we have to consider the significance of various modes of unity. 1 5. Qualitative Continuity. What it is chiefly important to emphasize at this point with regard to quality is its con- tinuity. It is in the case of colour that this characteristic is specially apparent ; and it may be well to refer here to Hume's treatment of this subject. Hume's recognition of the continuity of colours is specially remarkable, inasmuch as the fact forced itself upon his attention in direct opposi- tion to his general theory. His general view, as we have already noticed, was that all our perceptions arc separate and distinct ; and that we cannot form any idea except on the basis of some direct impression, in which it is presented to us in a more lively form. Yet he admits that this is not the case with respect to colour ; and it is worth while to notice the exact terms of his admission. " There is, however," he says, 2 " one contradictory phenomenon, which may prove, that 'tis not absolutely im- possible for ideas to go before their correspondent impres- sions. I believe it will readily be allowed that the several distinct ideas of colours, which enter by the eyes, or those of sounds, which are conveyed by the hearing, are really different from each other, tho' at the same time resembling. Now if this be true of different colours, it must be no less so of the different shades of the same colour, that each of them produces a distinct idea, independent of the rest. For if this should be denied, 'tis possible, by the continual grada- tion of shades, to run a colour insensibly into what is most remote from it ; and if you will not allow any of the means to be different, you cannot without absurdity deny the extremes to be the same. Suppose therefore a person to have enjoyed his sight for thirty years, and to have become perfectly well acquainted with colours of all kinds, excepting one particular shade of blue, for instance, which it never has been his * Chapter V. On tertiary qualities, see also Chapter VIII, 10. * Treatise of Human Nature, Book I, Part I, chapter i. QUALITATIVE CONCEPTIONS 191 fortune to meet with. Let all the different shades of that colour, except that single one, be placed before him, descend- ing gradually from the deepest to the lightest ; 'tis plain, that he will perceive a blank, where that shade is wanting, and will be sensible that there is a greater distance in that place between the contiguous colours, than in any other. Now I ask, whether 'tis possible for him, from his own imagina- tion, to supply this deficiency, and raise up to himself the idea of that particular shade, tho' it had never been con- veyed to him by his senses? I believe there are few but will be of opinion that he can ; and this may serve as a proof, that the simple ideas are not always derived from the correspondent impressions, tho' the instance is so par- ticular and singular, that 'tis scarce worth our observing, and does not merit that for it alone we should alter our general maxim." If Hume had not been an inveterate sceptic, believing that no theory could be made wholly satisfactory, it is evident that he could not have treated this contradiction so lightly. For further reflection would surely have convinced him that the instance is not altogether " particular and singular " ; and that, even if it were, it would still be necessary to reconcile it with the general theory. But, though the fact to which Hume refers is no doubt most apparent in the case of colours, it seems clear that similar remarks might be made about sounds, tastes, degrees of heat or pain, and probably about all our sense experiences. It might perhaps be urged that it relates, in reality, rather to degrees than to qualities ; and this is a point that will have to be further considered. But at least, on the face of it, it seems to concern quality. If it does not, this would mean that the distinction between qualities and kinds disappears. In any case, the continuity of degrees would seem to be as difficult to account for, on Hume's principles, as the continuity of qualities. In connection with this subject, there are some further observations that it is important to make at this point. It can hardly be doubted that the treatment of sensible quali- ties in general has suffered considerably from the fact that they may be regarded from very different points of view ; and this is perhaps more emphatically true of colours than 192 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY of any others. From the point of view of physics, they are naturally considered with reference to the motions with which they are connected, and on which their apprehension is normally dependent. It was thus that they were regarded by Newton and by the supporters of the more modern doctrine of undulations. Physiologists, on the other hand, such as Hering, naturally look at them rather from the point of view of the structure of the eye and the nervous system, with which their apprehension is still more universally connected. Painters, again, have some tendency to think of them in connection with particular pigments and other physical objects with which they are associated. It is only the psychologist, it would seem, who is directly concerned with colour as such, in the form in which we actually apprehend it. But psychologists have too often been content to deal with the views that are put forward by the representatives of other sciences ; or at least not to make much effort to distinguish clearly between the different ways in which they may be regarded. If we consider colours (including white, black, and grey) simply as they are directly presented, it seems clear that they form a connected system, capable of being fully represented as a cone or perhaps rather as a slightly irregular pyramid. The theory of colours that was put forward by Goethe, and in the main adopted by Hegel, 1 'was at least partly an attempt to bring out the relations of colours simply as such ; but their polemic against other methods of treatment seems to have been due to an imperfect recognition of the different ways in which colours may be considered ; and their own treat- ment appears to suffer from the introduction of some irrelevant material. Their main contention, however, that white and black are simple colours, and that all others may be placed in definite relations between them, appears to be sound. As, however, the question of degree has to be dealt with in con- nection with this, it will be well to reserve the further consideration of it for the next chapter. Remarks of a somewhat similar kind might be made about other sensible qualities ; but we are not here con- cerned with the detailed treatment of them. Colour has only 1 Goethe wrote pretty extensively on Farbenlehre. Hegel's treatment is to be found in his Natur-philosofhic, Zweiter Abschnitt. QUALITATIVE CONCEPTIONS 193 been selected as an illustration of what is meant by qualita- tive continuity, and by a qualitative system. It may suffice to add here that the tendency to exclude secondary and tertiary qualities from the objective system, and to treat them as merely subjective, is one of the circumstances that have tended to make a good deal of science and philosophy send a chill to men's hearts, and that have led people to say that " all charms fly at the mere touch of cold philosophy." It seems to ask us to think of a universe that is essentially without warmth or colour or beauty. As Dr. Bosanquet says, 1 "If the world apart from knowledge has no secondary qualities, it has hardly anything of what we care for. It is not recognizable as our world at all." But there is no real reason for supposing that secondary and tertiary qualities have a less real place in the structure of the universe than those that are called primary, though it may be somewhat less true to refer them to individual objects, and though their existence may imply more directly that of sentient beings. It is not a question of more or less reality, but rather of the exact place of particular aspects within the whole. 2 " Natur hat weder Kern noch Schale " : all its aspects are real, when seen in their proper place .3 1 Logic, vol. ii, p. 308. Compare also what is said by Professor 1'ringle-Pattison in The Idea of God, pp. 126-7. 2 See Chapter V, 5, Chapter VIII, 10, and Book III, Chapter I, 9. 3 It will be seen that my main object throughout has been to emphasize qualities as such, as distinguished from their physical conditions on the one hand and the conditions of their apprehension by an individual consciousness on the other. In the case of such qualities as colours it is not easy to make this distinction. We are so much accustomed to the study of their physical and physiological conditions and of the way in which individual minds apprehend them, that we do not readily attend to the qualities as such. I consider it to be one of the chief services that have been rendered by the New Realists, that they have helped to make these distinctions clear. The recent discussions on sensible qualities in the Aristotelian Society (Proceedings, vol. xvii), though somewhat inconclusive, may be worth referring to in this connection. CHAPTER III QUANTITATIVE CONCEPTIONS i . General Conception of Quantity. The general conception of quantity appears to be most simply expressed by the terms More and Less. It thus implies comparison, and suggests the limits that are expressed by Most and Least. In some cases, however, the Most is indeterminate, and may even be regarded as positively infinite. The Least may always be characterized as Zero. Even the " least of the apostles " is a greater apostle than one who is not an apostle at all ; and so even the least magnitude of any kind is greater than zero ; so that zero may always be regarded as the absolutely least. Taking zero as our starting-point, how- ever, there appear to be several different ways in which objects may be more than one another. When we are con- cerned with objects of the same kind, and that do not present any obvious points of difference, quantity becomes simply a matter of numbering. One is more than zero, and we may advance indefinitely from one by successive additions of unity. In the case of objects that are qualitatively different, another variety of more and less may be introduced. One colour may be more red than another, and colours may be arranged in a definite order on this basis. The zero point would be found in a colour that had no perceptible trace of redness, and from this there would be a gradual advance to pure red. In this case the quantitative scale would appear to have two ends : it proceeds from zero to a definite type. This kind of more and less may be called qualitative magni- tude. Again, a red may be more or less bright ; and a sound of a specific quality may be more or less loud. Here the difference is one of degree ; and this kind of more and less may be called intensive magnitude. In this case there does not appear to be any definitely assignable limit to the 194 QUANTITATIVE CONCEPTIONS 195 advance that may be made. Besides these, there appear to be other two kinds of magnitude, which are called extensive and protensive ; but there is somewhat more doubt in these cases as to whether they are properly to be regarded as distinct kinds of magnitude. Some general remarks seem to be called for here on all these varieties, or apparent varieties, of quantity. 2. Numerical Magnitude. Number, as has been already indicated, seems to connect primarily with the fact that a Universal is applicable to a multitude of particulars. It is, indeed, not necessarily the case that such a multitude of particulars should be discoverable. Such conceptions as God, the Universe, a perfect Cosmos, Space, Time, may only be applicable to single individual objects. Some conceptions also, such as that of a perfect being, or that of the snakes in Ireland or the nightingales in Wales, may not be applicable to any particular thing. Zero and unity are, however, numbers ; and the belief that there is any definite limitation in the number of objects to which a conception is applicable has to be supported by grounds. We may at least say that it is seldom or never the case that any general conception implies directly a limitation to a single object. Considered purely in itself, it nearly always suggests at least the possi- bility of a class ; and, so far as that class is regarded as being determined purely by the Universal in question, it is a class of homogeneous objects. It may be urged, as it has been by Leibniz and others, that individual objects are never absolutely homogeneous. The leaves in a forest, the sheep in a flock, even the most minute constituents of material things, may all have their individual differences. But, at any rate, such differences may, for many purposes, be regarded as negligible. Even human beings may, in certain circum- stances, be taken simply as capite censi. They are then merely counted. This appears to be the simplest way in which quantity can enter in. Its lowest limit is zero. A possible class may have no members. If " there is none righteous," the conception of a class of righteous men is still possible. If there is no such thing as a perfect Cosmos or a perfect Chaos, we may still think of such a conception. 196 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY If there is no God, we may still understand what we mean by God. Or, again, there may be only one God, one Cosmos, one Chaos, one righteous man. When a conception is quali- tative it may, from the nature of the conception, be limited to one, as " the brightest of the stars," " the last of the Romans," " the middle course," " the supreme power," " the centre of the Solar System " ; but these imply a number of parts or members in the classes that are referred to. In general, all our conceptions suggest the possibility of an indefinite number of objects. Numerical magnitude conse- quently presents itself as applicable to every kind of object. Hence it is tempting to take number, as the Pythagorean did, as the most fundamental of all determinations. Even in modern times knowledge is commonly regarded as being exact only when it can be expressed numerically. The attempt to apply numerical determinations indiscriminately may, however, lead to serious error or to speculations of a highly problematical character. It is apt to lead, for instance, to the attempt to reduce other kinds of quantity to purely numerical magnitude. This we shall have to notice more definitely in the succeeding sections. It is apt also to lead to the supposition that all the characteristics of number can be applied to the objects that are numbered. When, for instance, we are considering any number, without special refer- ence to the nature of the object with which we are dealing, it is always possible to add one or to subtract one. It is convenient, for some purposes, to regard such subtraction as being possible even when the number is zero ; and thus zero comes to be regarded as not necessarily the smallest number. This way of thinking has significance owing to the fact that some conceptions can be regarded as the opposites of others. The lowest 'temperature, for instance, is not the absence of warmth but the presence of cold. This may be expressed by a negative quantity. Similarly, one direction may be regarded as negative with reference to the opposite direction. This is a convenient device in mathematics, by which distinctions that are not in themselves numerical may be treated numerically. The fact that it is possible to increase numbers indefinitely leads also to the conception of an infinite number ; and this can be applied conveniently to objects QUANTITATIVE CONCEPTIONS 197 that cannot be numbered at all. If, for instance, it is not possible to make any transition from a plant to an animal, we may say that the one is infinitely removed from the other. Or, again, if in the motion from one point to another, it is not possible to state the number of possible intermediate positions, it is convenient to say that there is an infinite number of them. Such mathematical conventions may become seriously misleading when they are interpreted as being directly applicable to particular objects. A more obvious case is that of division. Any number may be regarded as divisible into parts, and the process of subdivision may be carried on in- definitely. Sometimes this process is applicable to particular objects, but in other cases it is not. A flock of 20 sheep can be divided into two parts, each consisting of 10. Each of these parts may be divided into other two, each con- sisting of 5. If we try to carry the process farther, the parts would cease to be composed entirely of sheep, and eventually would cease to be so composed at all. Hence it is necessary to exercise some caution in applying numerical determinations to concrete objects. We are not entitled to assume that all the characteristics that are applicable to pure number are applicable, without qualification, to all the objects that can be numbered. The bearing of this may become more apparent as we proceed. 1 3. Numerical Expressions. If it is right to regard numbers as referring primarily to the individuals in a class or group, it would seem that what are called the cardinal 1 The definition of number that is given by Fregc and Mr. Russell " the class of all classes that are similar to a given class " (" similar " being taken to mean a one-one relation between the members of a class) is perhaps open to some of the rather too sweeping objections that have been urged by Messrs. Richardson and Laiidis (Niimhcrs, Varinblcs, ami Mr. Russell's Philosophy, pp. 5-14) ; but it has at least the merit of calling attention at once to the objectivity of numbers, and to the fact that they cannot be ascribed to objects as such, but only to objects viewed from certain standpoints. It thus enables us to remove finally the difficulties that were raised by Plato's preliminary dialectic. I doubt, however, whether, properly speaking, number can be defined, except by indicating its relations to other funda- mental concepts. Whether this is to be done by such a method as Hegel's dialectic, or in some other way, I prefer to leave undetermined. For a general statement of Mr. Russell's view of number, see his book on Our Knowledge of the External World. For some criticism of his views, reference may be made to the book mentioned above, and also to Driesch's Onhnttigslclirc, p. 97. 198 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY numbers are the only numbers, in the most definite sense of the term. It has been customary, however, to apply the term, not merely to the system that serves for the enumera- tion of the members of a class, but also to that which serves for their arrangement, as first, second, third, etc. Thus we get what are called the ordinal numbers, in which zero is omitted. Fractions are also frequently referred to as numbers ; and this is a very natural extension of the meaning of the term, as some groups contain fragments. It might be less misleading, however, to call them numerical expressions, rather than numbers ; and the same term would seem to be applicable to particular arrangements of numbers, as in various forms of series, and to expressions that represent special ways of treating numbers, such as powers, roots, etc. Still more does it seem desirable to describe what are called " transfinite numbers " as numerical expressions, rather than as numbers in the stricter sense. It is obvious that, for certain mathematical purposes, it is often desirable, and even neces- sary, to deal with numbers in ways that have no definite reference to numerable things. A simple illustration is found in the computation of averages. If, for instance, there are seven members on a Committee, and the attendances at six successive meetings are 6, 4, 3, 3, 2 respectively, it is con- venient to say that the average number present was 3-^ ; though of course there never could be a time at which 3-^- members were present. Such expressions have a real signifi- cance, though they are not directly applicable to any group of existing things. The same appears to be true of many of the expressions that are used by mathematicians ; and serious errors may be committed in the attempt to apply such expressions to existent objects. Some further refer- ence will have to be made to this r in considering the way in which the conception of infinity has been used by some recent mathematicians. It is of course for mathematicians to consider what methods of treating numbers are most suit- able for their purposes ; but the question always remains, how such methods of treatment apply to particular objects ; and here those who are not specialists in mathematics have some right to form a judgment. The protests of Berkeley 1 In Book 1 1 1, Chapter III. QUANTITATIVE CONCEPTIONS 199 and Hume against hasty attempts to give metaphysical significance to mathematical processes may not have been wholly wise ; but at least such attempts require to be some- what carefully watched. It is at least noteworthy that so eminent a mathematician as M. Poincare" regarded some of the recent ventures of mathematicians in this direction with considerable suspicion. 1 It is important to bear in mind, however,, that nothing that is here stated affects the general truth, that the system of numbers has objective reality ; and that the relations that can be discovered within it, are valid with reference to all objects to which they can properly be applied. There have, indeed, been very few philosophers who have seriously ques- tioned this. According to Berkeley's view of number, 2 it is perhaps true that it would only be applicable to " ideas," not to " spirits " or " relations." Hume's theory also makes it difficult to establish the objective validity of number. 3 Mill, again, did certainly maintain that there might be some world in which it would not be true that 2 + 2 = 4. Of course there is a sense in which this may be maintained. Even in our own world, two things combined with other two may yield a result that is very different from two pairs in separation e.g. when two pairs of men co-operate in action, or when there is a case of chemical combination, or even of marriage ; and it is perhaps abstractly conceivable that there might be a world in which every synthesis of numerable objects even when it was only a mental synthesis gave rise to such, or to still more remarkable, complications. In such a world, the counting of objects might be wholly useless. But it would still remain true that, with reference simply to number as such, the relation in question holds good ; only it would be impossible to apply it in any direct way to objects, so as to yield any useful information at least until some definite law governing the complications could be discovered. In general, it seems to be true, as has been said,4 that " mathematical symbols depend for their meaning 1 See, for instance, his hook on Science, and Method, II, iii. y See Principles of Hitman Knmvlalge, 12. Fraser called attention to this difficulty in a note to his Selections from Hcrkelcy, 5th edition, p. 41. 3 See Green's Ititrodnclii>n, i.So-S. * The Metaphysics of Nature, by Professor Carveth Read, p. 305. 200 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY upon what is being reasoned about." They " economize " thought ; but they have to be interpreted by thinking. Mr. Russell whose references to Kant are seldom very happy has contended that the Kantian theory of number makes it purely subjective. "It might happen," he says, 1 " if Kant is right, that to-morrow our nature would so change as to make two and two become five. This possi- bility seems never to have occurred to him." But surely such an interpretation of the Kantian doctrine is a very gross misrepresentation. According to Kant, number is the schema of the category of quantity, and is valid in all cases in which categories are applied to a sensuous material. It is not dependent on our nature, but on the nature of synthesis. The distinction that Kant draws in this case between the schema and the category is open to question ; but that does not affect the present point, and we need not discuss it. What seems clear is that, according to Kant, numerical relations are valid wherever they can be applied. He does, indeed, think that there may be modes of intelligence that do not and cannot apply them. And this is probably true. A bird seems to recognize some difference between one egg and a larger number, and certainly between one egg and none ; but there is very little reason for supposing that it discovers the difference by counting. Similarly, Kant con- ceived that an intuitive intelligence might apprehend all reality, without ever requiring to count it, or to apply any other category or schema ; and indeed he seems to have thought that ultimate reality must be of such a kind that no categories could properly be applied to it. But this does not make them any the less valid where they are applicable ; nor does it allow of any variability in the relations that they contain, such as would permit 2 -j- 2 ever to become = 5. Mr. Russell seems to have failed to distinguish between the special nature of an individual and the general nature of a synthetic intelligence. I admit, however, that the Kantian doctrine is open to criticisms of a different kind. 2 1 The Problems of Philosophy, p. 135. 2 It seems to be true, for instance, that number as such can be considered apart from the act of comilint*. On thb, I think, Mr. Russell is right. See Our A'm>;.'- Icdgc of tli c External World, pp. QUANTITATIVE CONCEPTIONS 201 4. Qualitative Magnitude. The conception of a definite quality, such as redness, sweetness, beauty, wisdom, and the like, is not only applicable to a number of objects, which may be more or less, but also admits of more or less in approximation to the type. Pure redness seems to be a quite definite quality, but we seldom see a red that is not somewhat yellowish or whitish, or that in some other way falls short of the pure type. Similarly, sweetness is seldom quite pure ; absolute beauty is an ideal after which artists strive in vain ; and perfect wisdom hardly seems to be attainable by man. But there appears to be a quite definite meaning in the perfection at which we aim in all these cases ; it is not indefinitely remote, like the end that may be said to be implied in the successive addition of numbers. Perfection may even be said to be implied, as Descartes urged (and, indeed, as Plato urged before him), in any kind of imperfec- tion that we definitely recognize. Now, it may be urged that the kind of more and less that is involved in this case is capable of a certain numerical determination. Between a pure red and the complete absence of redness, it is possible to insert a number of cases in which redness is more or less present : the same may be true in the case of pure wisdom and absolute folly, and in other cases of qualitative distinc- tions. But it does not appear to be possible to regard the gradations in this advance from zero to a certain type as additions of units. If it were simply this, it would be possible to go on adding units after perfection had been achieved. It would be more plausible to urge that, when a definite quality is present at all, it is present completely ; and that imperfection means only the admixture of something different. Every red, it might be urged, is pure in itself ; but some- times it is mixed with yellow or other colours. So also sweet- ness is sometimes mixed with bitterness or sourness or saltness or with qualities of smell or temperature or pressure ; and wisdom may be mixed with folly, and beauty with ugli- ness. It would be difficult, however, to maintain this in all cases of approximation to a type. If a straight line be taken as such a type, a crooked line might be said to be straight in all its distinguishable parts ; but the parts are not all in the same direction. Hence it is partly straight and 202 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY partly not. But a curve may approximate more or less to straightness, without being straight in any of its parts. Simi- larly, yellow appears to be closer to red than blue is ; and yet it hardly seems to be the case that a pure yellow contains any degree of redness. Perhaps we ought to distinguish in this case between a red that is not pure red and a colour that is not red at all and yet .approximates to red. So also a man may be more or less rational, while an animal which cannot be said to be rational at all may yet approximate more closely to rationality than another. It is not altogether easy to determine how such facts are to be interpreted. In the case of colours, for instance, it might be contended that the approximation of red to yellow means that they both belong to the lighter end of the colour scale, while blue belongs to the darker end. It might be urged that red and yellow contain an element of whiteness, and that blue contains an element of blackness. According to the theory of colour which is specially associated with the name of Goethe, all colours are to be regarded as intermediate between white and black. As we have already indicated, there seems to be a sense in which this is true ; but it is obvious that they cannot be regarded simply as combinations of white and black. There are qualitative differences, as well as differ- ences in degree. It would seem at least that a red and blue (or perhaps green) element has to be recognized. Perhaps the fundamental colours might be arranged in some such order as this : Red White Yellow < \ Blue Black- Green White Grey Ul:u-k. However the scale may be simplified, it would seem that at least four distinct qualities have to be recognized ; and that other shades of colour involve certain approximations to those. Hence I am inclined to think that there really is such a thing as a qualitative more or less in this case. And something of QUANTITATIVE CONCEPTIONS 203 the same sort seems to hold in other cases. But I admit that it is open to some doubt. The term " Degree " is often used with reference to quali- tative magnitude, though it seems to be rather more appropriate to that which is properly intensive. Degrees of truth or correctness appear to mean approximations to truth or correctness ; and degrees of reality or actuality, in the only sense in which such an expression is intelligible, seem to mean approximations to reality or actuality ; though perhaps the expression is sometimes used to refer rather to distinguish- able senses, in which reality or actuality may be spoken of, or to more or less completeness in its apprehension. 5. Intensive Magnitude. Degree is more properly used with reference to more or less of intensive magnitude. This kind of magnitude is less open to dispute than qualitative magnitude. It differs from the latter in having no definite limit at the upper end of the scale. There are of course limits to the degrees of heat and cold, brightness of colours, loudness of sound, intensity of pleasure and pain, etc., that we are capable of experiencing ; but there does not appear to be any point in the increase of such intensities at which it could be said that more is inconceivable. In the case of pleasure, indeed, this may be doubtful. There is perhaps such a thing as complete satisfaction. Perhaps, indeed, differ- ences of pleasantness and unpleasantness should be regarded as rather qualitative than intensive. This is a question that we may have a later opportunity of considering. It has sometimes been contended that differences of degree can be regarded as reducible to numerical magnitude. Even Kant, after emphasizing the distinction, seems to have admitted that such a reduction is possible. In a certain sense, no doubt, it is. The number of distinguishable degrees between one intensity and another can be counted ; but it does not appear to be the case that these differences can properly be treated as units. A bright light does not consist of a certain number of dim ones, though the sources of such light (so many candles, etc.) may be counted. This is a question of some importance with regard to the calculability of pleasures ; but this is a special problem which it may be well to post- 204 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY pone for the present. 1 The interpretation of Weber's law given by Meinong, 2 which appears to be the most satisfac- tory interpretation that has been given of it, calls attention to the essential difference between intensive and extensive magnitude. Sometimes, it is true, a magnitude may be regarded in either way. A crowd of people may be regarded either as a certain number or as a unity having a certain intensity. When it is regarded as a number the addition of 10 to a group of 1,000 is the same increment as the addition of 10 to a group of 100. When it is regarded as a single whole the increment in the former case is only one-tenth of what it is in the latter. A crowd viewed as a sum of units is essentially a different object from a crowd viewed as an intensive whole. 6. Extensive Magnitude. The illustration that has just been given enables us to see that extensive magnitude (i.e. side-by-side-ness) may be regarded numerically or intensively. But in itself it appears to be distinguishable from either. A number of peas in a row may be counted ; but the fact that they are in a row is not revealed by the counting of them. They might be successive, instead of side by side. A line, again, may be regarded as intensive ; but the stretch- ing of the line in a particular direction is distinct from its intensive magnitude. A bar of iron might be cold at one end and hot at the other ; and have a continuous succession 1 It may he well to note here, however, that this question is very much affected by the distinction previously drawn hrlvvec-n pleasant sensation and liking. Pleasant sensation seems to have intensive magnitude, like other sensations. Liking, on the other hand, is a mode of valuation ; and values can be calculated. When Dr. Kashdall urges that feeling is, in this respect, different from temperature, it semi clear that it is the fact of liking to which he is ivferring. Sec his 7V/rn/ ;v <'/ "(u><>/ of Mn lliciiui lies (p. 177), has, I think, indicated the only sen-,c in which feeling tone can be measured; but, as he says, it has "no pr.icli, al unpoi tan. e." See also below, Chapter VIII, 3. 2 Ut-hfr die Hcrit-iilinig tit s HW>lo,i\; Hook II, chapter vii. QUANTITATIVE CONCEPTIONS 205 of temperatures, increasing gradually from the first end to the second. The magnitudes of the temperatures would be intensive, but their arrangement along the bar would be exten- sive. Degrees of merit, in like manner, are intensive ; but a list of people arranged in order of merit is extensive. If they were arranged alphabetically, the order might be different, while the number would be the same. Yet in both cases the order has a quantitative aspect, since there is more or less of distance between the members that are contained in it. Side-by-side-ness is generally thought of in connection with what is called space, which is commonly thought of as a three-dimensional form within which all physical objects may be placed. But it should be noted that we are not at present concerned with this particular form. Bohemia has, for the geographer, a particular place within this form. Shake- speare's Bohemia in the Winter's Tale, with its sea-coast, is evidently not the Bohemia known to the geographer ; but it also has extensive magnitude ; and so has the world that Alice discovered " through the looking-glass." It may be also that objects have a certain arrangement in a fourth dimension of space. This we shall have occasion to notice later. 1 All that we are at present concerned with is distance in a side-by-side arrangement. There may be more or less of this, and so it seems to be a special kind of magnitude. 7. Protcnsivc Magnitude. Similar remarks may be made about the relation of before and after, which also involves a kind of distance. Here, again, we are not to think of the continuous order of time, in which events are dated. The letters of the alphabet are arranged in an order of before and after. So are the propositions in a chain of reasoning. So are the persons in an arrangement of ceremonial prece- dence. But such objects have no definite dates. Nor has a fairy-tale of events that happened " once upon a time." But the events have a protensive order, which is different from the order of side-by-side-ness, but resembles the latter in involving the element of distance, which is its quantitative aspect. 1 Book III, Chapter I, 6. 206 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY Protensive magnitude has sometimes been specially con- nected with number. In the act of counting we take objects one after the other ; and, even apart from the act of count- ing, the numbers, like the letters of the alphabet, are naturally regarded as a successive series. But the magnitude of numbers does not appear to be successive. All magnitudes may be regarded as successive, if zero be taken as the starting- point ; and, if we count the successive steps, we are using numbers as ordinal. But the magnitude of numbers has no reference to the order in which they are counted. Counting is a subjective process, in which there is the relation of before and after ; but the things that are enumerated may be homogeneous units (or units capable of being regarded as homogeneous) forming a sum, or stages of approximation to a definite quality, or degrees of intensity, or objects that are side by side or before and after. These modes of more and less are themselves five in number, and we have taken them in a successive order ; but they do not appear to be necessarily arranged in this order. 8. Comparative View of Modes of Magnitude. It would seem, then, that there are five distinct modes of more and less ; and there do not appear to be any others. Now, on comparing these different modes of Magnitude, we find certain points of resemblance and contrast. Extensive and proten- sive magnitude have a certain similarity, while numerical and qualitative magnitude are somewhat sharply contrasted. Intensive magnitude may in some respects be regarded as a link between numerical and qualitative magnitude. It may be well here to begin by bringing out the points of contrast between numerical and qualitative magnitude. The most obvious difference consists in the homogeneity of the increments in the case of number and the heterogeneity in the case of quality. Another difference is the indefinite extensibility of the numerical series on its upper side, in contrast with the definite limitation .of the qualitative scale at both ends. On the other hand, between any two points in the numerical scale, the intervening numbers are definite and limited ; whereas between any two points in a qualitative scale there seems to be no definite limitation to the qualities that QUANTITATIVE CONCEPTIONS 207 may intervene. Both these statements might, no doubt, be questioned. By introducing fractions the numerical series can be indefinitely extended ; but, when this is done, we are no longer dealing with units. Again, it may be urged that the series of actually distinguishable qualities between any two points is limited. But this seems to depend on the fineness of discrimination in sense -apprehension, and might possibly be altered by an improvement in this respect. Intensive magnitude has in common with qualitative magnitude the heterogeneity of its increments and the lack of definite limitation in the possible distinctions between any two points ; but it resembles numerical magnitude in the absence of any definite limitation at its upper end. Extensive and protensive magnitude seem to resemble numerical magnitude in the homogeneity of their increments, which can consequently be treated as units ; and in their lack of limitation at the upper end. In the other charac- teristic to which reference has been made, they resemble qualitative and intensive magnitudes. Whether distinguish- able parts of an extensive or protensive magnitude should really be regarded as homogeneous may, no doubt, be questioned. It has been questioned, more particularly with regard to pro- tensive magnitude, by Professor Bergson and others. But the doubt here raised has reference to what has been called " real duration " ; with that we are not at present concerned. When we arc simply concerned with the relation of before and after as in the letters of the alphabet there seems to be nothing to distinguish the distance between any two suc- cessive numbers from that between any other two. This may not be the case when we are dealing with special cases of succession, such as states of consciousness ; but there we are concerned with variations in quality or degree. Similar differences might be introduced in the case of extension. 9. Finite and Infinite Magnitudes. One of the distinc- tions to which attention has been called in the previous section is specially important viz. that between series that are definitely limited and those that stretch out indefinitely. We have noticed two distinct ways in which such indefiniteness appears. A scale may either be endless, or it may contain 208 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY an indefinite series of approximations to a definite end. It is on these characteristics of series that the general concep- tion of infinity is based. Whenever there is a continuous series of relations of a definite kind, one or other type of infinity presents itself. The addition of unit to unit can be carried on indefinitely. Increments of intensity have also no definite limitation ; and the relations of side-by-side-ness and before and after can also be repeated without any assign- able limit. Similarly, where a definite quality is conceived, we may suppose an indefinite series of approximations to it. The conception of infinity that is thus reached is of great value in mathematics. It enables things which are in them- selves indefinite to be definitely treated. Things that are qualitatively different may in this way be brought into relation to one another. A regular polygon, for instance, by increase in the number and diminution in the length of its sides may approximate more and more nearly to a circle without actually becoming one. When the sides became very numerous and very small, it would hardly be possible to distinguish it from a circle. This may be expressed by saying that, if they became infinitely numerous, it would become a circle. As a matter of fact, it is probably true that any circle that can actually be drawn is a many-sided figure. Other applica- tions of this mode of statement could easily be found. When, however, such mathematical conceptions are applied to concrete objects, they are apt to become misleading. Many puzzles have been based upon applications of this conception of infinity. The paradoxes of Zcno, for instance, are largely based upon it. The famous puzzle about Achilles and the Tortoise turns largely on the supposition that the movements of beings that walk or run can be regarded as strictly con- tinuous, and so as consisting of an infinite number of distinct movements. This is clearly not the case. Movements in walking or running are made up of a limited number of steps or leaps. In the case of a flying arrow or cannon-ball, it might seem that the movement is more strictly continuous. But probably this is not the case. Whenever we are dealing with an immense number of things, they may be conveniently treated as infinite. The number of stars may be regarded as infinite ; but, apart from any metaphysical theories, there QUANTITATIVE CONCEPTIONS 209 appear to be physical grounds for regarding the material universe as a limited system. From an abstract point of view, it seems that there might be an indefinite number of dimensions in space ; but three suffice to deal with almost all the relations 'between spatial objects that can be definitely ascertained. There might conceivably be an indefinite number of qualitative differences in colours ; but it is possible to ascertain the number that can actually be discriminated. Instances of this kind serve to show that the conception of infinity has to be applied with caution. The same remark applies to approximations to a type. Perfect redness, perfect purity, perfect truth, perfect wisdom, perfect goodness, perfect power, all represent ideals which it is difficult perhaps in some cases impossible to realize completely. Hence we are apt to think of them as infinitely removed, and as admitting of an infinite number of approximations. But it may be doubted whether we are entitled to make such an assumption. Such problems, however, 'will have to be further considered at a later stage. 1 ' Book III, Chapter III, especially 10 and 15. It may be well to note here that the expression " side-by-side-ness " which is used in this chapter, as well as elsewhere, is not wholly satisfactory. It is the best equivalent I can find for the German Ncbeneinander. I use it for spatiality, in its most general aspect, as dis- tinguished from what is sometimes called " physical space." The importance of this distinction may become more apparent in the sequel. See especially Book III, Chapter I, 5. Aristotle's TTOU, as I understand it, refers definitely to position in physical space, not to the simple relation of partes extra partcs, which is all that is here in view. On the oilier hand, (he undiffcrentiated continuum which recent psychologists call " extensity " would seem to be characterized only by degree, though it contains the potentiality of a distinction of parts existing side by side. i. General Conception of Causation. We have noticed already that we do not believe anything without some ground that seems to us sufficient. In general, the ground for the accept- ance of any judgment as true is found in some other judgment or set of judgments on which it depends in accordance with some recognized order. The hypothetical judgment, in the form If A then B, expresses this relation of dependence. Now, any of the orders to which we have already referred, may serve as a basis for such an inference. If man, then rational, depends on the recognition of the kind of being to which the term man is applicable. If green, then between yellow and blue, depends on the recognition of relations between colours in a qualitative scale. If 4, then 2 -}- 2, depends on the recognition of numerical relations. If equilateral, then equiangular, depends on the recognition of certain spatial relations. If good, then desirable, expresses certain conscious relations. Sometimes, however, one thing depends upon another in virtue of relations that cannot be definitely referred to any of these orders. It is chiefly, though not exclusively, in such cases, that we make use of the conception of causation. Consequently, it has its applica- tion chiefly with reference to objects that are different in kind. It may be well to bring this out by means of a few illustrations. A simple illustration would be that of the flight of an arrow. If an arrow is flying in a particular direction, it will eventually come to rest at a definite point. Its arrival at that point may be said to be an effect which is caused by the various antecedent positions in its movement. Now, these positions form a continuous spatial and temporal order. Such CAUSATION 211 continuous movement would not usually be described as causal, any more than we should usually say that one point in the motion of a swinging pendulum is the cause of the next. On the other hand, when we trace back the motion of the flying arrow to its origin, we find that it starts from a certain position in relation to a bow ; and we are led to ascribe its flight to the tension of a string, and the movements of some person's hands. These facts are quite different from the flight of the arrow ; and it is the relation between such different facts that we most commonly describe as causal. A more complex case would be found in such an event as the French Revolution or the present great War. When we ask for the causes of such events, we should find them for the most part in circumstances that are not homogeneous with the effects. The facts are seen in such circumstances as those that are vividly related by Carlyle or reported in the daily papers meetings of parliament or councils of war, movements of troops, processions of enraged people, destruc- tion of buildings, killing of men by shot, bomb, guillotine, and so forth. Such events have a certain continuity : one leads on swiftly or slowly to another : but they are not the circumstances in which we should commonly seek for causes. We should look for these rather in such facts as the economic conditions of the people, their views of life as expressed by some of their prominent teachers, such as the encyclopedists or the German philosophers, theories of government, such as those of Rousseau or Treitschke, the characters of monarchs, the ambitions of public men, the fears and jealousies of various individuals, their understandings and misunderstandings of one another ; all things very different from the events that we describe as their effects. Reflection on such instances leads us to surmise that causa- tion may properly be regarded as a mode of order that connects things that are different in kind. If so, it may supply an important link in the general view of the world that we know, as being an orderly system. It may help to bridge over the gulf between kinds, which appears to be one of the chief obstacles in the way of such a view. This, however, is not an aspect of the subject with which we are at present con- cerned ; since we are trying to deal with special features of 212 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY our universe, rather than with the universe as a whole. Still, it must be confessed that we here reach a point at which it is not altogether easy to adhere strictly to this limitation. The consideration tends to lead us to the thought of the whole. But we must try to set aside these larger considera- tions ; and in order to see more precisely what is to be understood by the causal order, it may be well to notice some of the chief theories that have been held with regard to it. 2. Aristotle's Four Causes. Aristotle was the first who made a definite attempt to set forth the different ways in which causation may be conceived. He distinguished, as is well known, between material, formal, efficient, and final causes. That in some sense these can be distinguished is clear enough ; but, if causation is to have a quite definite meaning, it would seem to be necessary either to reduce them to one or to find some general principle under which they may be included. .We have already seen how a first step may be taken in this direction by breaking down the distinction between matter and form. A typical illustration may now help us to proceed farther. If we take the case of a house, it is evident that we may give a sort of explanation of it by calling attention to the stones, bricks, wood, iron, and so forth, out of which it is composed. To do this is to give its material cause ; and, if it were the ruins of a house, instead of a house in being, it might be all the explanation mat was wanted. In dealing with a heap of rubbish, we might be content to know what kinds of rubbish are there. Early accounts of the world as consisting of fire, air, water, and earth were somewhat of this character. In explaining a house, however, it is evident that we are carried much farther by giving an account of its form i.e. of the order in which the various things of which it is composed are arranged. This gives the how, instead of the whereof. But even the how is not much of an explanation without the why. This we get, in the case of the house, by an account of the purposes that are served by doors, windows, chimneys, etc., and of the advantages of using particular materials in their construction, of placing CAUSATION 213 them in particular positions, etc. This supplies us with reasons, but hardly yet with causes. We still want to know whereby. To answer this at all fully, we have to make use of the other three modes of explanation. It would be natural to begin with the final cause. We might begin by stating that some individual recognized the value of having a house at a particular place, and ascertained that he had the means of employing an architect and a builder. The architect, having understood what was wanted, thought out and prepared his plans. The builder, having understood the plans (i.e. having become aware of the form), instructed a number of people to secure the necessary materials, to bring them to the place where they were wanted, and to put them together. The owner, the architect, the builder, and the various workers who are employed, are the efficient causes ; but they become efficient by apprehending and making use of the final cause, the formal cause, and the material cause. If, however, the house, after being built, were to be wrecked by an earthquake, it would be difficult to point to any final 1 cause for this result ; there would only be certain materials in certain forms, and certain forces working in accordance with certain laws. Now, when we consider these four causes, it seems clear that the material cause is not what we understand by cause, in any ordinary acceptation of the term. We have already given some ground for believing that matter cannot be, in any ultimate sense, distinguished from form. The stones that enter into the constitution of a house have already a form of their own. This form may be, in some degree, modified by the workmen, before the stones are placed together to form part of the house. The house itself might come to form part of a city ; and its structure might have to be in some degree modified for this purpose. What is formed may be re-formed, and may become part of a larger whole that has a different form. Throughout such transformations, it is always forms with which we are concerned ; and it does not appear to be really possible to distinguish matter as anything essentially different. Hence we may set aside the material cause. The final cause may also be set aside for the present, 2i 4 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY though it may be necessary to return to it afterwards. In our ordinary use of the term, it 'does not constitute a cause. The mere fact that something would serve a purpose or have a value does not, in our ordinary experience, bring it into being. The purpose becomes a cause only by becoming efficient. Some one has to apprehend its value or importance and then seek for the means whereby it can be brought into being. The good seems, on the face of it, to be powerless until some one recognizes it as good and uses the means to secure it. We shall have to consider later whether this state- ment requires any qualification. In the meantime, final causes simply as such may be set aside. The formal cause might also seem to be hardly what we understand by a cause. The plan of a house does not bring a house into being until some one adopts the plan and sets about building the house in accordance with it. But in some other cases this is not so obvious. A plant seems to form itself without any builder. Even a work of art seems some- times to grow almost unconsciously. And some scientific explanations appear to be almost purely formal. When it is said that a stone falls to the ground by the force of gravitation, it is difficult to interpret the force of gravitation in any but a formal way. Hence it is by no means certain that the formal interpretation can be set aside. On the contrary, it is probably the truest interpretation ; and we shall have to return to it shortly. But for the present we have to note that it does not, on a first view, appear to be satisfactory. It is not so in the case of the house ; and in the case of the plant or of gravitation it is natural to try to find some explanation that is not simply formal. People try to explain the growth of plants by mechanical concep- tions ; and in the case of gravitation they often think that the motion can be accounted for by some attractive or repulsive force ; and this force is thought to be somehow an efficient agent. Hence it will probably be best to set out with the conception of efficiency. But what are we to understand by efficiency? The most obvious way of thinking of it is that which has just been indicated attractive or repulsive force. The plan attracts the architect or the owner, and leads him to take steps to CAUSATION 215 embody it. The materials are pulled or pushed into their places ; and either of these processes seems to depend on repulsion. We may begin, then, by considering causation as meaning attraction or repulsion. 3. Attractive and Repulsive Force. The most obvious meaning of these expressions is that in which they are applied to human choice. What is pleasant or beautiful or good appears in general to attract us ; while we are repelled by what is unpleasant or ugly or evil. It is in this way that final causes become efficient ; and this we shall have to consider at a later stage. In the meantime, it does not appear that this is what is meant by attraction or repulsion when these terms are used with reference to the fall of a stone or the pushing of it into its place in a building ; and it is certainly not easy to explain what they are to be taken to mean in such a connection. Attraction, in particular, appears to have no definite meaning. What is to be under- stood by saying that when two bodies are placed close together, they attract one another? It seems clear that we do not mean that they like one another or desire one another's company ; but it is hard to see -what else we do mean, except that they tend to move towards one another ; and that they tend to do so does not appear to mean anything more than that, in certain circumstances, they do so. But this would be a purely formal explanation. Repulsion appears to be somewhat more intelligible. That one thing, when it moves towards another, pushes the second away, seems to be explained by saying that two different things cannot be in the same part of space at the same time. Hence attempts have been made to explain all mechanical action as dependent on repulsion. The Leibnizians recognized only repulsive force. It is obvious that what is commonly called a pull, as distinguished from a push, really involves a push. A stone can be pulled by a rope only if the rope passes round it, so as to push it from behind. Hence some seek to explain gravitation as really due to pressure from outside ; but it seems to be very difficult to find any explanation of this kind. Even in the case of pulling the stone, the cohesion of the parts of the rope cannot easily be explained as a 216 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY push. Kant argued with some force that the material system cannot be understood without both attractive and repulsive force. Without entering into this, it may be asked whether a repulsive force is really more intelligible than an attractive one. It is easy to say that two bodies cannot be in the same place at the same time ; but is it any more obvious than that two persons cannot have the same thought at the same time, which appears to be false? It would seem that a colour and a shape can be at the same place at the same time. It is not obvious (though it may be true) that purple does not contain a red and a blue aspect at the same point. Can any real reason be given for believing that two things cannot be at the same place at the same time, except that we find that things of a particular kind, which we call material bodies, decline to share the same place? If this is all, efficiency in this case means only that there is a certain formal rule by which the movements of bodies are governed. Why, then, may we not equally well suppose a similar rule in the cases that we describe by the term attraction? If so, both cases would be cases of formal causation, rather than of anything in which efficiency appears to have any definite meaning. If it is to have any definite meaning, it would seem to be necessary to find some other way of inter- preting it. This appears so obvious that it is not worth while to dwell upon it further. 4. Descartes' Theory of Causation. Descartes sought to give more definiteness to the conception of efficient causa- tion. He urged that a cause can only be supposed to be capable of producing an effect when the effect is already contained, " formally or eminently," in the cause. This appears to mean that the cause must either contain some- thing identical with the effect or something intrinsically greater. His general principle may be briefly expressed by saying that nothing can come of nothing, and that what is greater cannot come from what is less. These statements no doubt commend themselves to common sense ; but do they throw any light on what is to be understood by efficiency? First it will be well to inquire what is to be understood by greater and less. If we take it in the sense CAUSATION 21 7 of numerical magnitude, it is evident that the greater con- tains the less : 2, for instance, is i -f- i . In this case, therefore, it would seem that when the cause is greater than the effect, it contains something identical with the effect. Here " eminently " is not really distinguished from " formally." The same would seem to apply to extensive and protensive magnitude. In the case of intensive magnitude, however, it does not appear to be true. A bright light does not contain a number of dim ones. Yet some of the conditions on which brightness and dimness depend are numerical. A bright light may be dependent on the presence of a number of candles ; and it may be reduced to a dim one by removing some of the candles. Apart from this, is there any real reason for supposing that a dim light could be more readily produced from a bright one than a bright from a dim one? It is not obvious that there is. Nor is it obvious that the imperfect can more readily be got from the perfect than vice versa. No doubt it is in general more difficult to produce what is perfect than what is imperfect. Any one can produce an ugly picture ; but only a skilled artist can produce a beautiful one. But the reason for this seems to be mainly that there are an indefinite number of ways in which ugliness can be produced and only a limited number of ways in which beauty can be achieved. If a definite kind of grotesqueness were aimed at, it might be as difficult to secure this as to secure beauty. Hence it is by no means apparent that it is more difficult to produce the perfect than the im- perfect. But it is on this supposition that the contention of Descartes rests, when he speaks of the effect being con- tained " eminently " in the cause. If we drop " eminently," we are then left with the theory that the cause must be in some way identical with the effect. This would seem to mean that motion may be produced by motion, colour by colour, life by life, consciousness by consciousness, and so forth ; but that nothing can ever give rise to anything different from itself. Yet so little confidence 'had Descartes in this doctrine that he actually held it as being axiomatic that the existence of a living being at one moment could not be the cause of the existence of the same being at the next moment. It would seem, therefore, that his view really amounts to 218 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY saying that the cause must be absolutely identical with the effect. But this surely means that there is no such thing as efficient causation. This conclusion appears to have been drawn by Spinoza, who holds that every existing thing or mode must be regarded as being deducible from i.e. eternally contained in the structure of the whole. This seems to be the logical outcome of the doctrine of Descartes ; and it makes causation purely formal. 5. Berkeley's Theory of Causation. We may now notice another method of seeking to give an interpretation to efficiency, of which Berkeley may be taken as the most con- spicuous representative. According to Berkeley, the only case in which we find any direct evidence of efficiency, and the only case in which we are really entitled to assume it, is in the activity of will. There is an obvious plausibility in this. In other cases, when we try to discover efficiency, we are led back from point to point. But in an act of choice, we seem to reach an ultimate, source of action. In the building of a house, the placing of the materials is explained by the movements of workmen. They are directed by their over- seers, and these by the master builder. He is under the direction of the architect, and the architect is set to work by the owner. But when we come to the choice of the owner, we seem to have reached something ultimate. Here, if anywhere, we may expect to find efficiency. Obviously we are here brought back to the consideration of the final cause. When something is chosen, it is selected as being in some way good ; so that the question now is, In what way can the apprehension of something as good be seen to be efficient? Obviously there are some limitations to its power. The choice of something e.g. a house as a desirable end leads to a series of movements directed towards its realiza- tion. It is clear that these are not all under the direct control of the will. Hence Berkeley, like the Cartesians before him, supposes them to be guided by another will the will of God. With that we need not at present concern ourselves. The question at present is, What part of the action can be said to be controlled by the will of the agent, and in what sense is it so controlled? This is a problem that we shall have CAUSATION 219 to consider more fully at a later stage. In the meantime, what appears to be urged by those who support this doctrine is that choice i.e. the apprehension of something as good- gives a certain dominance in consciousness to the object that is chosen, and that this dominance leads to a series of move- ments. It would seem, however, that choice is seldom, if ever, the selection of something as absolutely good. It is rather its selection as better or more valuable than possible alternatives. Hence what is meant appears to be that the occurrence of an object in a relatively high position in a scale of values gives it a relatively high place in the scale of intensive apprehension. It would seem, however, that what is apprehended as evil gets a similar dominance, but leads to actions of a different kind. It would appear that the kind of causation here involved is largely formal. Position in a scale of values leads to special kinds of movement, just as relative positions in space lead to other kinds of movement. Is efficiency any more apparent or more intelligible in the one case than in the other? Do we not simply apprehend in both cases certain regular ways in which changes follow upon positions in particular forms or scales? It is at least not obvious that we can discover anything more. But, as already noted, we shall have to return to this problem. 6. Hume's Theory cf Causation. Reflection on the un- satisfactoriness of these theories led Hume to deny that the element of efficiency could ever be discovered in any case of apparent causation. Hence he urged that all that we are entitled to state is that we discover certain regular ways in which things in themselves different are connected especially a certain regularity in the sequence of similars and that we are thus led to expect that such regularity will be continued. Experience justifies this expectation ; but we know of no real ground for believing that it will always justify it. We are in the same position in which we may suppose the lower animals. A fowl that has frequently been fed by a particular person at a particular time of day seems to get into the habit of expecting to be fed by that person at that time. This expectation may continue to be justified for many days ; but a day may come at last when that person, instead of 220 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY feeding it, will wring its neck. So it may be with us. The orderly system of our ordinary experience may at any time lapse into chaos. We do not apprehend any efficiency in the causal order, but only a certain regularity of sequence, which contains no absolute guarantee of permanence. 1 Hume's treatment of this aspect of the subject is so clear and con- vincing that he may be said to have achieved in it one of the very few decisive victories in philosophy. 7. Kant's Theory of Causation. Kant criticized Hume's view in a highly elaborate way, the exact point of which is largely dependent on special peculiarities of his philosophy, which we cannot at present discuss. But his main contention may be briefly stated. He urges that the doubts raised by Hume with regard to the persistence of the causal order may be equally well raised with regard to other objective orders 2 especially those of space and time. He argued that we could not assign objects to definite positions in space and time without assuming that they are connected with one another by regular causal relations. I may think of the French Revolution as occurring at any time and place, and may take the events in that Revolution in any order I please. But I assign them to a particular time and place and believe that they happened in a particular order in virtue of my general conviction that the facts of geography and history are related to one another in certain regular ways. But for this we should have an endless variety of times and spaces instead of the one time and the 'one space that we recognize as objectively real. Thus Kant contends that the persistent 1 Hume has been so often charged with inconsistency (e.g. by Reid and by Mr. Balfour) in combining a practical recognition of the causal order with douht as to the necessary connection that is supposed to be involved in it, that it may be worth while to state here, that he does not appear to be chargeable with any such inconsistency. He found, as the lower animals do, that there is a certain regularity in experience ; and, like them, he adopted the modes of behaviour that were found to work. He never conceived himself to be more ignorant than the brutes ; but only that, in this particular respect, he was not more knowing. a Hume's Inquiry concerning Human Understanding, in which his view about causation is most fully and clearly stated, contains hardly anything else ; and, as this seems to have been the only part of Hume's definitely metaphysical work with which Kant was directly acquainted, he assumed that it contained the whole substance of Hume's philosophy an unfortunate mistake. Hume had dealt with other orders though hardly with equal clearness in his Treatise. CAUSATION 221 reality of the causal order is as necessary an assumption for our knowledge of the objective world as that of time and space. Kant, however, did not believe, ' that time and space have any absolute reality ; and hence it cannot be said that he wholly disagrees with Hume. Some of the questions that are here involved will have to 'be dealt with later. In the meantime, it seems clear (though perhaps it was not quite clear to Kant himself) that he does not, any more than Hume, provide us with any conception of efficiency. He only urges that we have to recognize an objective order of connection ; and that this order extends as far as objective time and space do. 1 8. Causation as For'mat. Reflection on these discussions about causation leads us to see that the conception of the formal cause is more fundamental than the others that, in fact, it is hardly possible to give any definite meaning to the other conceptions of causation without interpreting them in a formal way. Aristotle himself seems to have recognized that ultimately the efficient and final 'cause cannot be dis- tinguished from the formal. Form and Matter are his only ultimate antitheses ; and we have urged that this antithesis does not hold as ultimate, though it has some value in dealing with particular cases. According to the view to which we are thus led, such a conception as that of gravitation may be taken as a type of the meaning of causation. Here there is no temporal antecedent; or at least the conception of antecedence and sequence has no real significance. There is no need to ask whether the sun was before or after the earth ; or whether these bodies existed before the tendency to move towards one another in a certain definite way began to operate. The general mode of operation is the funda- mental point ; and of this general mode the movements of sun and earth are particular instances. It is an orderly way in which things otherwise different are connected together. No doubt this orderly connection does sometimes show itself in the form of sequence. Even in the case of the sun and the earth it results in a sequence of positions 1 On the relation of causality to time, Bosanquet's Logic (Book I, chapter vi) may be consulted with advantage. 222 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY and movements. In the case of volition the element of sequence is more marked. The house ' comes after the volitions of the original owner, the architect, the builder, and the workers. But here also the essential point is that the conception of something as good 'tends to lead in an orderly way to the existence of the object that is so regarded. It is evident, of course, that the singling out of the formal aspect of causation as the most fundamental need not prevent us from recognizing the other aspects that were referred to by Aristotle as being of considerable importance in the treat- ment of particular cases. In human actions, such as the building of a house, the final cause is rightly brought into prominence ; because human choice is an order of such a kind as to involve some reference to ends. But, unless we are entitled to apply teleology in the general interpretation of nature a question with which we are not at present con- cerned we are not justified in regarding this aspect of causa- tion as one that can be universally used. In human actions also, and in other cases in which one object may be regarded as relatively active and another as relatively passive, we may properly speak of efficiency ; provided we remember that we do not seem to be entitled to mean by this anything more than that, in such cases, the causal order involves a certain sequence of the states of one 'distinguishable object upon those of another. But it is hardly possible to apply this to such instances as that of the mutual attraction of physical bodies ; though here also the extent to which the concep- tion might be used may be affected .by the view of the universe as a whole to which we are ultimately led. Similarly, it remains true that we have to take some account of the material cause, in the sense that, when there is a formal principle of connection, the mode of its operation depends on the structure of the particular objects that are affected by it e.g. in the case of building a house, by the nroperties of the materials that are employed. 1 But it is the organizing 1 As an illustration of the general way in which form may be influenced by matter, Professor Muirheacl makes the following suggestion : "A good instance is the form of art in a particular material, e.g. painting of a wooden statue, which might be inappropriate for a marble one. (The Greek painting of marble was, CA USA TION 223 principle that seems to be most properly regarded as the essential element in all causation. 1 9. Chief Modes of Causal Relation. The discovery of particular modes of causal action belongs rather to the special sciences than to philosophy ; but, for the sake of illustra- tion, it may be well to refer here to what seem to be the most important modes that have so far been ascertained. We may notice two that apply mainly to the material system and two that apply mainly to living beings. The first two are the conceptions of attraction and repulsion and the con- servation and dissipation of energy ; the second two are the conceptions of growth and decay and of desire and aversion. It is noteworthy that in all the four cases there is a positive and a negative aspect. With regard to attraction and repulsion, there is not much to add to what has been already noted. It does not appear that any real explanation can be given of the facts indicated by these expressions ; except in so far as they may be held to be explained by Kant's contention 2 that without them a material system would be inconceivable. If this can be shown, it means that the general conception of a material system implies the kind of relation that is implied in these expressions. It would then be the existence of a material system that calls for explanation. Perhaps the same might be said about the general doctrine of energy ; but this doctrine seems to be still in some I believe, a survival of wooden painted statues.) Another is the treatment of mosaics. When it approximates to fresco, owing to the fineness of the mosaics, it seems inappropriate." In art, however, it is sometimes difficult to determine what is form and what is matter. In poetry, for instance, the metrical structure would generally he called the form, and the ideas or sentiments that are expressed the matter ; hut it might be better to regard the latter as the formative principle, seeking expression in an appropriate material. In music the distinction between form and matter almost disappears. Yet even there the particular instrument counts for something. The emotions that may be 'uttered on the banjo or the Jew's-harp can hardly be the same as those that find expression through the violin or the organ. See also A. C. Bradley's Oxford Lectures on Poetry, p. 24. 1 This point seems to me to be very well brought out by Dr. McTaggart in his article on Causality in Mind (July 1915) ; though his method of approaching the subject is very different from that which is here adopted. * In his Melapliysictil Rudiments of Physics. See Caird's Critical Philosophy of Kant, vol. i, pp. 464-6. 224 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY respects lacking in clearness. 1 At first it was interpreted as meaning the permanence of the amount of movement in the material system. Now it seems to mean little more than that when the amount of movement, estimated in a certain way, is increased or diminished, the balance can, under certain circumstances, be restored. Hence it is said that whatever is lost may be regarded as still 'existing potentially. This may be a convenient way of speaking ; but essentially it seems only to mean that there is an orderly way in which changes in the total amount of movement in any system take place. According to the doctrine of dissipation of energy, it would seem that eventually the amount of motion in any finite system would be reduced to zero. So far as this goes, it seems to mean that the material system cannot be regarded as permanent. This we may have to notice further at a later stage. In the meantime, it seems clear that the conception of causation involved in this doctrine is essentially formal. It is simply a general statement with regard to the quantitative aspect of motion in the material system. Perhaps such a conception, like those of attraction and repulsion, may be implied in the existence of a material system ; but it does not appear that this has, as yet, been shown. The general fact of growth seems, in like manner, to be involved in the existence of what we call living beings ; and it would seem that everything that grows is also liable to decay. The conception of growth has been greatly extended by its application, not only to individual organisms, but to species and communities. It has sometimes been thought that growth might be regarded as the simple unfolding or evolution of what is already there. This connects with the Cartesian view that the effect contains nothing but what is already present in the cause. Professor Bergson has done valuable service by contending against this view, and re- introducing the conception of cpigcnesis or " creative evolu- tion." But it seems clear that the clan vital of which he 1 For some discussions hearing upon it, reference may be made to Ward's Naturalism uml Agnosticism, vol. i, lecture vi, and to Driescli's Science and Philosophy of the Organism, vol. ii, pp. 162-200. See also the statements in the following chapter, especially 9. CAUSATION 225 speaks is a purely formal conception. It means simply that there are certain directions in which growth takes place. To this we may have to refer again later. Choice, in its positive and negative aspects (appetition and aversion), has already been noticed ; and we have urged that no explanation of its causal efficacy can be found in any definite conception of efficiency. It simply means that in conscious beings the apprehension of value i.e. of degrees of good and evil is connected in certain regular ways with the initiation or change of movements of special kinds. Thus all the important modes of causal action appear to be essentially formal. 10. Distinction between Cause and Effect. The causal relation, as we have already noted, is conveniently expressed in the form of the hypothetical judgment, If A, then B. This is generally taken to mean that, if a particular cause exists, it is followed (not necessarily in the temporal sense) by a particular effect. Now, it is evident that we are not entitled to convert a hypothetical judgment simply. We are not entitled to say, If B, then A. It is on this fact that the doctrine of " plurality of causes " rests. This doctrine has a certain plausibility. Death may be brought about by various diseases, by various accidents, by various acts of violence ; and sometimes (e.g. in cases of poisoning) it may not be easy to determine to which class a particular instance should be referred. Similarly, a picture may have been produced by photography or by the work of a skilled artist. It has been urged, 1 however, that if the effect is examined with sufficient care, it would always be possible to ascertain in what way it has been produced. This is probably true, though in some cases it would be extremely difficult to verify it. A nest, for instance, might be con- structed by a human being in such a way as to be indis- tinguishable from what is normally the work of a particular species of bird. What is more obvious is that plurality of effects can be as readily detected as plurality of causes. A disease may produce death or it may result in the strengthen- ing of the system. A well-laid scheme may succeed or fail. 1 See especially Dr. Venn's Empirical Logic, chapter xvii. 15 226 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY In fact, it is in general very evident that it is at least as easy to reconstruct the past as to foretell the future, to infer causes as to infer effects. On seeing a watch, we may readily infer that it has been made by some human being ; whereas we cannot infer from the sight of a human being that he will ever make a watch. In the case of a bird and its nest, on the other hand, we may pass with almost equal confidence in either direction. Hence it would seem that the hypothetical judgment that expresses causal relation- ship, if valid at all, may equally well be inverted. But, if so, what becomes of the distinction between cause and effect? Unless we can give some meaning to efficiency, it would seem that the so-called cause is just as dependent on the so-called effect as the effect is dependent on the cause. This leads to somewhat paradoxical conclusions. Are we to say, for instance, that the building of a house is no more dependent on human volition than human volition is on the building of a house? The view of causation that has now been indicated enables us to answer this question. The real cause, From this point of view, is not a particular event but a general principle. When any particular result occurs, it can be connected with other occurrences before and after and simultaneous ; but the real cause, in the most significant sense of the word, is not to be found in any of these, but in the method of their connection. Death is not the result of disease or accident or violence in themselves, but of these as connected in certain definite ways with vital structure. The building of a house is not the direct result of an act of will (which might easily fail to carry itself out), but of the general way in which choice leads on to a series of movements. Now, it seems clear that without choice there would be no such thing as a house. But it cannot be said that without houses there would be no such thing as choice. Men might choose to live in caves or tents or in ships or balloons. Hence it seems truer to speak of plurality of effects than of plurality of causes. The principle of gravitation serves 'as the explana- tion of an indefinite number of very different occurrences. So does the principle of conservation, so does the principle of growth, and so does the principle of choice. CAUSATION 227 It must be remembered, of course, that we are here referring to the way in which objects of a particular kind are connected with objects of a different kind. If we inquire how it comes that a definite individual thing exists in the precise way in which it does, or how a definite event occurs exactly as it happens, we have to take account of an indefinite number of circumstances perhaps even of the structure of the universe as a whole. The hyssop, as it has been said, grows in the wall, because the whole universe cannot prevent it from growing ; or, as it has otherwise been put, because the whole universe helps it to grow. From this point of view, it may be held that the cause of anything is everything else. But this raises the general problem of the order of the universe, with which we are not yet prepared to deal. It seems clear at least that, within that general order, we can distinguish special orders of connection ; and it is only with these that we are at present concerned. It may be well to add that, though we are sometimes more readily able to infer from the effect to the cause than from the cause to the effect, yet a certain priority attaches to the latter mode of inference. From the sight of a watch we can infer the action of a man, but only because we already know that human beings are in the way of trying to measure the lapse of time and of devising mechanical means of doing it ; and we do not know of any other beings who do this. We cannot infer that a particular man will .produce a watch ; because there are many ways in which the lapse of time may be measured, and many ways in which men may employ their time ; and any one man may depend on others for the production of suitable means for this particular end. Nevertheless, it is primarily the structure of the human intel- ligence that leads us to recognize the watch as one of its manifestations. If there were a number of men on a remote island, we could confidently predict that they would devise some means of measuring time in a more or less accurate fashion ; whereas, however many watches there might be on such an island, we could not predict that human beings would be there hardly even affirm that human beings had been there ; for the watches might have been carried by birds. In general, it seems to be true that it is the organizing 228 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY principle that gives us confidence in determining what follows from it. No doubt the organizing principle itself may be only a hypothesis suggested by the study of particular occur- rences ; but until we have formed the conception of such a principle we have no ground for any confident inference. 1 1 . The Conception of the Self -caused. Spinoza, who was one of the first to give definite expression to the formal conception of causation, introduced, in connection with it, the conception which he indicated by the phrase causa sui. It may be well to consider at this point, how this phrase is to be interpreted. If the interpretation that has now been put upon causation is correct, it seems clear that we do not really get any explanation of it. Attraction and repulsion, conservation, growth, choice, arc principles that may be used to connect a great number of diverse things, but they are not themselves explained. It may be asked whether it is conceivable that we should be able to find anything that would explain them more fully. It does seem to be at least conceivable. For instance, if Kant is right in thinking that a material system cannot be made intelligible without definite laws of attraction and repulsion, this would seem to furnish a further explanation of the existence of these laws. But the existence of a material system would still call for explanation. Hence we are led to ask whether any system can be conceived which should be, in the full sense of the word, self-explanatory. Such a system would be, in Spinoza's language, causa sui. Now, it seems possible at least to point to certain approximations. They are to be found especially in the region that was specially familiar and attractive to Spinoza, and to the Cartesians in general viz. mathematics. The system of numbers may almost be said to be self-explanatory. Once we know what the conception of number means, all the relations between numbers can be deduced, without appealing to anything that lies outside of that particular order. All that it seems to presuppose is a manifold of distinguishable elements ; and, as we cannot think even of a complete chaos without supposing such a manifold, the conception hardly seems to call for any explanation. The relation of before and after is almost equally simple and CAUSATION 229 that of side -by -side -ness hardly less so. It is when we pass to differences of degree and quality that the need for further explanation begins to become apparent ; and, when we come to differences of kind, the gulf between them seems so im- passable that it is hardly possible even to conceive of any means by which the existence of those particular distinctions could be made intelligible. Causation enables us to connect things different in kind e.g. colour and heat as both involving certain quantities of energy, and giving place to one another in accordance with definite laws but it does not in the slightest degree help us to explain the differences themselves. Huxley urged that the appearance of a colbur, following on a particular mode of motion, is as mysterious as the appearance of the Djin on the rubbing of Aladdin's lamp. But the growth of a plant or (as Lord Kelvin sug- gested) the behaviour of a spring, or of a magnet, is, in reality, hardly less mysterious. Is it conceivable that there should be any explanation of such occurrences? Even Kant, it should be remembered, did not profess to explain particular cases of causation, but only contended that some definite order is necessarily implied in a system of nature. Plato thought though not without some hesitation that the conception of Good might furnish us with the explanation that is wanted. Certainly, if it could be shown that dis- tinctions of certain kinds are required to constitute a perfect Cosmos say, in a way more or less analogous to that in which Kant sought to show that attraction and repulsion are neces- sary for the existence of a material system it does not appear that we should want any further explanation. The possi- bility of this will have to be considered later. In the meantime, it seemed right to notice the problem at this point, as being raised by the attempt to carry out fully the conception of causal explanation. 12. Causation as a Mode of Unity in Difference. Apart from the possibility of such a complete explanation as that now referred to, it would seem that what the principle of causation does for us is to enable us to bring together things that are in themselves different, as being connected by relations that have a certain regularity. Bodies that are 230 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY otherwise different may attract or repel one another in a uniform way. Modes of motion that are very different those, for instance, that serve as the conditions for the appear- ance of sound, light, and heat may be connected together by the general principle of conservation of energy. Qualities that are different may be connected by quantitative relations in the conditions of their origin. Changes in an organism may be connected by general laws of growth, and species of plants and animals by general conditions of evolution. The very varied actions of conscious beings may all be con- nected by the general conception of valuation as a source of movement. These modes of explanation do not annul the differences ; nor do they exhibit them as growing out of one another by such a uniform series of relations as we find in number and those other systems that may properly be described as orders. Yet they do furnish us with modes by which differences can be brought within a certain unity. Hence it seems desirable at this point to consider more definitely what is to be understood by such a unity. 1 1 So far as I can judge, the view of causation that I have tried to set forth in this chapter is not fundamentally different from that which is adopted by Mr. Russell ; though he has been able to give it a good deal more definiteness, by the use of mathematical conceptions. See especially his paper in the Proceedings oj the Aristotelian Society, vol. xiii. The treatment of causation by Mr. C. D. Broad in Perception, Physffs, and Reality, chapter ii, may also be referred to with advantage. See also Ostwald's Natural Philosophy, pp. 109-18. It should be noted that Mr. Russell seems to be of opinion that the acceptance of a formal conception of causation involves the renunciation of any real distinction between cause and effect. I think it involves a change in the way in which this distinction is commonly con- ceived. But in a typical case, such as that of volition, the distinction between the principle on which changes depend and the particular changes that follow from it retains its value. See below, Chapter VI, 14, and Chapter IX, n. CHAPTER V MODES OF UNITY i. General Meaning of Unity. The term, as Kant noted, is somewhat ambiguous. It is used in a numerical sense and in the sense of a whole or system. A planet, for instance, is a unit among planets ; and it is a unity with reference to the parts of which it is composed, each one of which may be treated as a unit. Hence Kant distinguished between the category of unity and what he called the objective unity of apperception, which involves a synthesis of distinguishable elements. It would seem to be necessary, however, to dis- tinguish the latter not only from the category of unity, but also from what Kant called the category of totality. In reality, it does not appear that any absolute difference is to be found between these conceptions. Anything that can be regarded as self-contained or complete in itself may be called a unity. A mathematical point may be taken as a unity when it is thought of by itself. A number of points arranged in a definite order may also be taken as a unity ; but it is then also a totality. A living being, in like manner, may be regarded as a unity and as a totality ; but, unlike the arrangement of mathematical points, it is not a totality of units standing side by side, but a combination of parts related to one another in a variety of ways, spatial, temporal, motor, causal, and in the specific manner that is called organic. If we think of the material universe as a whole, that is a totality of a still more complex kind ; and it also may be regarded as a unit in relation to any other type of universe of which we may be able to think e.g. the universe described in Dante's Divine Comedy. If it is possible to think of a comprehensive universe in which everything that has any kind of reality is included, that would be a totality of a very 231 232 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY complex kind, and it would not be a unit in relation to anything outside of itself. To describe such a unity as a totality would, however, be somewhat misleading ; since a totality is generally understood to mean a unity of parts which are themselves units ; and it is at least not certain that either an organism or a universe can be properly so regarded. Kant's term " synthetic unity " is open to a similar objection ; since synthesis is naturally taken to mean that the objects put together have a being that can be regarded as independent of their combination. This is not necessarily implied in the conception of a unity or system. A unity, when it is not a mere unit, such as a mathematical point, is thought of as containing distinguishable, but not neces- sarily separable, parts or numbers or aspects. There are objects in some sense " in " it, which can be to some extent distinguished from the more comprehensive object in which they are included. Some reference to the meaning of the word " in " may help to make this clearer. 2. The Meaning of " In." The use of this term has given rise to a good deal of confusion in philosophical dis- cussions. Its primary meaning appears to be spatial, as when we speak of something being in a room or in a bottle ; but its meaning is extended very widely to include relations of the most varied kind. A few illustrations may help to bring this out. Consider the following : in a field, in a triangle, in a row, in succession, in relation, in combination, in the Cabinet, in logical order, in the mind, in a book, in fact, in theory, in consequence, in a certain sense, in respect of, in the negative, in imagination, in the highest degree, in proportion, in possession, in itself, in being, in perpetuity, in exchange, in anger. What seems to be involved in all these is that some- thing is referred to something else which is in some respect more comprehensive. 1 Even in the phrase " in itself " this may be said to hold. When we say that an action " is not in itself wrong," we are distinguishing between different points of view from which the action may be regarded. It may 1 When a person is said to be " in a rage " or " in sorrow," I suppose the rage or sorrow is regarded as a more comprehensive atmosphere in which the person is involved. MODES OF UNITY 233 be looked at in isolation or in relation to special circum- stances ; but the use of the term " wrong " indicates that, even in its isolation, we are considering it in relation to some moral standard. When we say " in itself," we only mean that we are excluding a certain mode of connection which might, and perhaps ought to, be taken into account. The phrase may be regarded as essentially negative. " In itself " means " out of relation to other things " i.e. not in certain relations. Thus it would seem that to consider the various modes of unity with reference to which particular objects may be regarded, is to consider the various ways in which the term " in " may be used. It is difficult to make such considerations exhaustive ; but it may be hoped that the following are at least the most important ways for our present purpose. 3. The Unity of Members in a Class. The unity of the homogeneous appears to be the simplest mode. A flock of sheep is bound together by the common characteristic of sheepishness, quite apart from the herd instinct which also serves to unite it. Now, there is no doubt some difficulty in understanding the relation of the common characteristic to the particular objects that are grouped together by means of it. Plato, who appears to have been the first to think seriously about this problem, evidently felt great difficulty with regard to it. He hesitated whether to express the relation by saying that the universal is contained in the par- ticular, that the particular is contained in the universal, or that there is a copy of the universal in the particular. The difficulty, however, seems to be largely due to our inveterate tendency to interpret " in " in a spatial sense. As soon as we overcome this tendency, we see that there is no real con- tradiction in saying both that the universal is in the particular and that the particular is in the universal. The universal is in one way more comprehensive than the particu- lars, since it covers them all. In another way the particulars are more comprehensive than the universal, since they are many, while it is one ; and also since they have a number of characteristics, in addition to the one in virtue of which they are grouped together. To seek for spatial analogies, as 234 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY Socrates is represented as doing in Plato's Parmenides, is evidently futile. If there is a mystery in the presence of the one in the many, it is at any rate a mystery that is co- extensive with the universe. We can only make it appear less mysterious by appealing to innumerable instances of it. To say that it is the most fundamental characteristic of all reality is hardly to say too much. Some have tried to remove the difficulty by saying that the common characteristic which enables one thing to be grouped with others is not the same in the several instances, but only alike. This is the Platonic conception of copying. But, as Plato perceived, likeness is itself a universal. That many things should be alike is not less mysterious than that they should have any other charac- teristic in common. Nor are we helped by saying that the particulars are called by the same name ; for sameness in name is no less mysterious than sameness in colour or in any other respect. The kind of unity, then, which is found in the grouping of particular instances under a universal con- ception, appears to be one that we simply have to accept and recognize. 4. The Unity of Relations in an Order. It is evident that the objects that are grouped together under universals are not absolutely homogeneous, except in so far as they are simply apprehended as a many i.e. as numerical units. Even mathematical points differ in position. In general, objects that are the same in kind are distinguished by those qualitative and quantitative differences that have been referred to in previous chapters, and they are connected with one another by causal relations. In a wide sense of the word, all these characteristics may be called the qualities of the objects. These, as we have seen, fall into orders of a more or less definite kind. They are connected with one another by relations that have a certain continuity. Universals are not entirely discontinuous. They have, in Plato's language, a certain community, which may, however, be more or less definitely marked. Things that differ in kind appear, as Anaxagoras would say, to be cut off from one another, as if with a hatchet. But they are at least connected by continuous causal relations. Sounds and colours, which seem to differ MODES OF UNITY 235 in kind, may be compared in respect of their intensities, as well as by the conditions on which their appearance is dependent. Thus the fact that objects are different does not prevent them from entering into certain kinds of unity. 5. The Unity of Qualities in an Individual Object. What we commonly call things may be regarded, as we have seen, as meeting points of universals. Sometimes such meeting points are evanescent. A flash of lightning has form and colour and some other characteristics ; but the combination has hardly any persistence. Other objects, such as rocks, are combinations of qualities that persist, though not without slight changes, throughout a considerable extent of time ; and they maintain also a more or less definite spatial 1 relation to other objects of a similar kind. The persistent spatial relations of such objects are, as we have already noted, commonly referred to as their primary qualities. Other characteristics, such as colour, are more variable, and are commonly referred to as secondary. It has often been said that the latter exist " in the mind " of the being by whom they are apprehended, and that their relation to the particular object is only causal. Berkeley extended this way of speaking to the primary qualities as well. If we rightly understand what is meant by "in," this way of speaking may be justified. When a combination of qualities is appre- hended as belonging to the unity of an object, the apprehen- sion belongs to a particular conscious centre ; and the qualities cannot properly be said to exist except in the sense that they occur in certain connections. Hence they are rightly referred to the particular mind as well as to the particular object. This will have to be considered further in connec- tion with the unity of consciousness. In the meantime, it is enough to note that it is highly misleading to say that colours and other sensible qualities are either in a mind or in an object. An object need not be supposed to carry all the qualities that are rightly referred to it always about with it, any more thaa a man has all his possessions in his pocket. The answer of Horatio, when he is asked whether he is there " a piece of him " may very well be applicable to all per- 236 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY sistent objects. Many of their characteristics may be latent till occasion calls for them. This at least is the view of qualities to which we have been led by the previous discussions. It may be distinguished from that which is held by some (though, I believe, not by all), the representatives of the New Realism, and which seems to me to be the only alternative to the view here maintained. It is the view that has been most definitely urged by Professor Percy Nunn. 1 According to this, qualities are to be referred to things ; and all the qualities that are, at any time, appre- hended in connection with a particular object, are to be referred to that object. A particular thing is to be supposed, for instance, to have in it all the colours that, in any particular light, or by any particularly constituted form of eye, are apprehended as contained in it ; and likewise all the shapes that, from any point of view, it presents. This may be said to be the converse of the Berkeleyan doctrine. Per dpi is esse. In a sense, the doctrine here set forth does not disagree with this. Colours and forms are rightly referred to objects, but only to objects in relation to subjects. The view of Professor Nunn may be criticized from the point of view of Occam's razor. It certainly involves a " pluralitas " ; it " multiplies entities " to an enormous extent. It is some- what like holding that all the commodities that can be purchased by a pound note are wrapped up in that note ; or that all the knowledge of which any one has possession is packed up in the cells of his brain ; or that, because a dog barks at strangers and fawns upon its friends, barking and fawning are to be supposed always to exist in it. It is surely more reasonable to believe that all these charac- teristics exist only in the circumstances in which they are evoked ; though, when they are evoked, they are rightly referred to particular objects, occupying particular positions in space and time, and not merely to the subjects by whom they are apprehended. 2 This seems to apply to what have 1 Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, vol. x. Some of the new realists appear definitely to repudiate any view of this kind. See, for instance, the article on " Illusory Experience " by Mr. E. B. Holt in the American volume on Tim New Realism, especially p. 358. See also Macintosh's Problem of Knowledge, pp. 240-58. 2 Mr. Broad, in his Perception, Physics, and Reality, has some good remarks on this subject. See especially p. 71. MODES OF UNITY 237 been called tertiary qualities, such as pleasantness or beauty, as well as to primary and secondary qualities. 1 All this is well brought out by Dr. Bosanquet in his Adamson Lecture ; though I think he rather overstates the dependence of quali- ties on the mind by which they are apprehended. I may add that I am not sure that 'Professor Nunn really seeks to maintain anything essentially different from the view that I have been trying to set forth. 6. Mechanical Unity. Things, as we have noted, are in causal relation with one another ; and the simplest form of such relation would appear to be that which is described as mechanical. The parts of a mechanical unity retain their characteristics as separate and persistent objects, while changing their relative positions. When, however, such move- ments affect the relations of minute parts of an object as when a solid is transformed into a liquid or a gas its general aspect may be so much transformed as to make it hardly recognizable as the same object. Such transforma- tions make the transition seem easy to others of a more com- plicated kind so easy that the early Greek philosophers were tempted to regard all transformations as being of this relatively simple character. 7. Chemical Unity. The kind of unity that is called chemical appears to involve changes of a more complex character. Here two or more objects, differing in kind, become in combination a new object differing in kind from any one of them. The parts do not, at least in appearance, persist as separate objects, and can only be with difficulty recovered in their original form. It does not appear to be altogether easy to say when changes that take place in the properties of objects are rightly to be described as chemical. In changing from the solid to the liquid or gaseous state, bodies often undergo considerable alterations in some of their properties. Hence the early Greek philosophers were tempted to treat all changes as essentially mechanical. What are called the allotropic forms of some elements (such as oxygen and ozone) seem to present similar 1 But see what is said below, Chapter VIII, 10, and Book III, Chapter I, 9. 238 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY difficulties. But the consideration of such problems is rather beyond our scope. 8. Organic Unity. An organic unity, such as that of a plant, is still more complex. Some of the changes that take place in it appear to be capable of mechanical and others of chemical explanation. But the facts expressed by the terms growth and reproduction seem to be of a different order. At the same time, it is pretty clear that they do constitute orders. Growth is so continuous that the process of change is, in general, quite imperceptible ; and in re- production one type of organism gives rise to others of approximately the same type in continuous succession. 1 The doctrine of evolution has, however, led to the recognition that the succeeding members of this series are not of exactly the same type ; and attempts have been made (especially by Mendel) to ascertain the laws by which these transforma- tions are governed. With this we need not here concern ourselves. The essential point to be noticed in an organic unity is that we have here a system which cannot be explained in a purely mechanical or chemical fashion. Kant appears to have been the first who made a clear distinction between such a unity and a unity of a merely mechanical type. He brought this out in his Critique of Judgment, where he urged that even so simple a thing as a blade of grass could not be adequately dealt with on purely mechanical principles. 2 We can only interpret organic beings by recognizing a certain vital unity by which the parts are bound together, and sub- ordinated to the perpetuation of the individual and the species. 3 What has been stated in the preceding chapter with regard to the conservation of energy may help to show that the tecognition of this does not really imply any violation of that ' The uniqueness of life in these respects has been well emphasized, among others, by Count Keyserling. Sec his Prolegomena znr Nalnrfhilosophie, V. 3 Kant's doctrine on this subject is elaborate and perhaps not altogether clear. For a full discussion of it, reference may be made to Mr. R. A. C. MacMillan's hook on The Crowning Phase of the Critical Philosophy. See especially p. 256. 3 We shall have to notice later (in Chapter VII) the way in which the con- ception of organic unity may be applied to human societies. Another interesting use of the conception in recent times is its application to values by Dr. G. E. Moore, in his Principia Ethica, especially chapter i, 18-20. See below, Chapter VIII, 10. MODES OF UNITY 239 principle. Even Professor Ostwald, who is generally regarded as one of the most uncompromising upholders of that doctrine, states ' that " there are undoubtedly a great number of special uniformities, with reference to which the principle of energy has no demand to make, except that they shall not contradict it." Such an admission seems to be all that is really neces- sary for the recognition of special modes of unity, the peculiar nature of which is not explained by mechanical principles, but in which these principles are not violated. It is all that is demanded, for instance, by such a statement as that of Professor Driesch : 2 " The actual organism, as it offers itself to observation, is certainly a combination of singularities, each of which may be described in terms of physics and chemistry, like a machine, and also all changes in these singularities lead to results which may be so described, but the reason of the origin of the combination and of all its changes is not a law or any combination of laws taught us by physics and chemistry." It would seem that, just as pure mathematics cannot explain physical changes, and just as pure physics cannot explain chemical combinations, so pure chemistry cannot explain the behaviour of plants and animals ; nor can pure biology explain human thought and choice. But there does not appear to be any ground for saying that what takes place in the modes of unity involved in the higher existences contradicts any of the principles that are contained in the lower. 3 All that can rightly be maintained is that the higher is not explained by the lower ; that it can neither be resolved into the lower nor anticipated from the study of the lower ; and that, if we are to recognize an evolution from the lower to the higher, we must admit that it is, in M. Bergson's sense, " creative " ; or, as Dr. Bosanquet is fond of putting it, that the stream rises higher than its source. 1 Die Philosophic dcr Wertc, p. 67. See also what is said by Professor Hoffding on the "concentration and organization of energy," as distinguished from its increase (Modern Philosophers, p. 13). * Science and Philosophy of the Organism, pp. 137-8. Some of the other state- ments of Professor Driesch are more open to question. For some criticisms on them, reference may be made to Professor Pringle-Pattison's Idea of God, pp. 77-8o. 3 See also Taylor's Elements of Metaphysics, pp. 291-2. 240 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY 9. The Unity of the Material System. Mechanical, chemical, and organic unities may all be called material, at least if we confine the term " organic unity " to plants. The presence of consciousness in men and animals, though closely connected with the material system, introduces an element so different from the others, and of such fundamental im- portance, that it has to be regarded as raising us to a different plane. Now, what has to be observed of the material system in general is that, though it may be regarded as consisting of a vast number of distinguishable objects, it yet presents itself to us as a single whole, in which each distinguishable object has a definite temporal and spatial position relatively to others. Thus we are led to think, as Kant so strongly insisted, of a single all-embracing time and space, in which changes take place. It seems clear that pro tensive and ex- tensive magnitude are not necessarily thought of in this way. A spiritual object, such as a poem, has a before and after in its parts, and may refer to objects having extensive magni- tude, such as figures of gods and heroes ; but the before and after and the side-by-side-ness here involved are not necessarily placed in any definite position relatively to the objects in the material system. The causal relations, how- ever, that subsist between material things, lead us to place them all in definite temporal and spatial relations. On this point Kant appears to be right. It would seem further that most, if not all, of the changes that take place in the material system can be connected with movements in a uniform three- dimensional space. Hence, although there does not appear to be any definitely assignable reason for regarding exten- sive magnitude as being limited to three dimensions, yet it is only in three dimensions that we place material tilings, and we appear to be hardly capable of thinking definitely of any further dimensions. It should be added, however, that our apprehension even of a third dimension presents con- siderable difficulty, and tends to be somewhat vague. To this we may have occasion to refer further at a later stage. 1 10. The Unity of Consciousness. The modes of unity that have so far been noticed require, for their fuller treat - 1 See Book III, Chapter I, 6, MODES OF UNITY 241 ment, the study of the special sciences, especially mathe- matics, physics, chemistry, and biology. When we pass to the facts of conscious life, we come more definitely to the province that falls within the scope of philosophy. Psychology and sociology are, indeed, also special sciences ; but they are sciences in which the problems can hardly be discussed without reference to the general conception of the universe. Hence a more detailed consideration of these modes of unity is called for here, quite apart from the fact that their greater complexity, necessitates a more extended survey. For the present, therefore, a few general observations must suffice. An animal, like a plant, is an organic structure ; but it is a structure that has a more or less definitely developed centre of reference, at which the unity of its life is focused and in some degree controlled. Now, it is from such a centre that we necessarily set out, not only in the study of philosophy, but in all other studies as well. It is objects as apprehended at such a centre that supply us with all the materials of our knowledge ; and it is by pro- cesses at such a centre that these materials become organized into systems of science and philosophy. Hence the question presents itself here, how far the facts already considered, and any other facts that we apprehend, are to be regarded as dependent upon or affected by the general character of the focus at which they are apprehended. It is chiefly for this reason that the larger problems of philosophy are inevitably introduced at this point. 1 1 . Social Unity. It has further to be noted here that the unity of the individual consciousness leads very directly to a social unity. Even in plant life, as we have noted, the individual organism is not separate from a larger whole. There are many organisms forming a more or less continuous order of beings similar in structure but gradually changing. Conscious beings become gradually aware of their relations to this larger system. Most animals are aware of one another. They are in some degree conscious of their relations to the special group with which they are most intimately connected, and their behaviour is to a large extent guided by this con- 16 242 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY sciousness. In human beings the consciousness of the group, and the control of the individual by it, become still more conspicuous. This will have to be considered with some detail, though the fuller study of it belongs to the special science of sociology. \ 12. Spiritual Unity. In human beings, however, the group consciousness leads to more intimate forms of unity. The consciousness of their relation to a larger whole enables them to realize more fully their own individual nature, and to apprehend themselves as persons among other persons, having a certain community of interests, and moving towards the accomplishment of common ends. In connection with this the important conception of value becomes prominent. They become aware of final causes. The ideals of truth, beauty, and goodness begin to dominate their consciousness. They seek to understand the universe within which they find themselves, to discover meaning and purpose in it, and to interpret it as a whole. They are thus led to the conception of a unity to which they belong, larger than that of the group with which they are most closely connected. They pass from the family and tribe to the State, from that to humanity, and from that to the universe in general. 13. Cosmic Unity. We are thus led to the final form of unity that of the universe regarded as a system. Here the problem presents itself, how far the universe that we apprehend can be regarded as a Cosmos or perfect order. In connection with this many difficulties present themselves, which, however, we need not here anticipate. We have first to consider the unity of consciousness, passing on from that to social unity, and from that to spiritual unity, in connection with which the general conceptions of value and freedom will have to be discussed. It is only after these have been dealt with that we shall be in a position to consider the conception of a Cosmos. Before proceeding to the con- sideration of these, however, it seems desirable to add some remarks on the general relations between different modes of unity. MODES OF UNITY 243 14. Relations between Modes of Unity. It would evidently be a mistake to think of the various modes of unity to which reference has now been made as being quite separate and independent of one another. The objects, for instance, that are comprised in a mechanical system are themselves unities of distinguishable qualities. In a chemical unity also some of the characteristics of the separable elements especially their quantitative aspects retain their full force in the combina- tion. Similarly, in an organic unity, though the parts are bound together by their vital relations to the whole, the operation of mechanical and chemical laws is not entirely superseded. Conscious life, in like manner, while it brings the purely organic functions under a new system of control, does not interfere with the operation of these functions. Nor does the social unity of conscious beings annul the mental operations of the individuals who are comprised in it. And, if it is possible to think of the universe as an interconnected whole, we may expect to find that, within that whole, the various subordinate modes of unity retain their full signifi- cance. Hence we shall naturally be somewhat suspicious of any doctrine of the cosmic unity which represents it as a supersensuous Absolute that, like Saturn, devours its off- spring. The consideration of spiritual unity, however, and of the unity of the cosmos must be deferred to later chapters. In the meantime, a few further remarks about organic unity may be serviceable. While it seems to be true that an organic unity is rightly contrasted with the lower forms of mechanical and chemical unity that are absorbed in its constitution, it is easy to exaggerate the extent to which these modes of unity may be held to disappear or to be transformed in its constitu- tion. The following statement by Green, for instance, seems to contain such an exaggeration. " The constituent elements in an organism," he urges, 1 " can only be truly and adequately conceived as rendered what they are by the end realized through the organism. The mechanical structure organic to life is not adequately conceived as a machine, though, for the purpose of more accurate examination of the structure in detail, it may be convenient to treat it as such. And, for 1 Prolegomena to Ethics., Book I, chapter iii, 79. 244 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY a like reason, the state of the case in regard to a man is not fairly represented by saying that, though not merely an animal or natural, he is so in respect of the processes of physical change through which an intelligent consciousness is realized in him. In strict truth the man who knows, so far from being an animal altogether, is not an animal at all, or even in part. The functions which would be those of a natural or animal life if they were not organic to the end consisting in knowledge, just because they are so organic, are not in their full reality natural functions, though the purposes of detailed investigation of them perhaps the purpose of improving man's estate may be best served by so treating them. For one who could comprehend the whole state of the case, even the digestion that served to nourish a brain, which was in turn organic to knowledge, would be essentially different from digestion in an animal incapable of know- ledge, even if it were not the case that the digestive process is itself affected by the end to which it is mediately relative." That the digestive process, as well as other animal functions, can be to some extent influenced and controlled, both directly and indirectly, by consciousness, seems clear enough ; but surely, in itself, it is essentially the same process in the man as in the animal, in the sage as in the savage. The conscious or spiritual does not appear to transform entirely the material or natural, but only to control and guide it. The recognition of this becomes perhaps especially important when the conception of organic unity is applied to the relations between human beings in a society. It would seem, as we shall have to notice shortly, that such an applica- tion is legitimate ; but it is important to bear in mind that, wlien it is applied in this way, it does not mean that nothing that is simply mechanical is to be recognized within the social unity. The very word " mechanical " has reference primarily to structures that exist only within human societies. In its original sense it applies to objects that are used as means or instruments for the attainment of some specific end ; and it has been subsequently applied to the movements of any objects that appear to be externally controlled by other objects, or to find their explanation in some purely external relation. MODES OF UNITY 245 Machines are, in general, mechanical in their operations both in the original and in the derived sense ; though, as distinguished from tools, they are capable of carrying on certain kinds of movement without the continuous exercise of external control. They are means for the realization of particular human purposes, on the one hand ; and, on the other hand, they operate in accordance with mechanical and sometimes chemical principles, and illustrate the working of such principles in very definite ways, though they are constructed and controlled by thinking beings, and adapted to serve the ends of individual and social life. Similarly, in the opera- tions of war, and other activities of the State, it is only the subordination to social ends that prevents us from re- garding what takes place as simply mechanical. But we are anticipating in referring to this subject at the present point. 1 It is now time for us to pass to the more definite consideration of the unity of consciousness. 1 See Chapter VII, 9. CHAPTER VI THE UNITY OF CONSCIOUSNESS i. General Nature of Consciousness. Consciousness, or the awareness of objects, can hardly be defined or described in terms of anything with which we are more fully acquainted than itself ; yet something may profitably be said about it in relation to other modes in which objects are combined. When objects, such as colours, are consciously apprehended by a particular individual, their distinctive features are pre- served, but they are combined with one another in ways that are not simply spatial or temporal or causal or vital, but in relation to an individual focus. The following characteristics appear to be specially noteworthy in this mode of unity : (i) Consciousness admits of degree : we may be more or less aware. This degree has to be distinguished from the intensity of the particular object that is apprehended, such as the brightness of a colour or the loudness of a sound. (2) Consciousness has a place in the time order, and is also connected with a special position in space. (3) In its relation to time it has real duration. The " specious present " is not a mere point ; and what belongs to a past mode of consciousness is not, in general, altogether lost. This aspect of consciousness also admits of degree. The range of the present may be more or less wide. (4) The element of valuation enters in. We like certain objects and dislike others ; and this also admits of more and less. (5) The final cause becomes efficient. The valuation of objects leads to changes in our relations to them. The significance of these characteristics will, it is hoped, become more apparent as we proceed. 2. Sense In which Things are in Consciousness. We have already called attention to the ambiguity in the word 246 THE UNITY OF CONSCIOUSNESS 247 " in." That in a certain sense the objects that we appre- hend are in consciousness is clear viz. the sense in which to be " in " means to be apprehended. In this sense every object and relation and mode of unity of which we have any direct knowledge may be said to be in consciousness. The objects that we apprehend can, however, be distinguished from the fact that we apprehend them. But if we go on to ask whether such objects can be regarded as wholly separable from the fact that they are apprehended, it is not so easy to find a satisfactory answer. If the universe as a whole is a connected order, it would seem that no object can be regarded as wholly separable from the whole to which it belongs ; and the more comprehensive the unity with which we are dealing, the less can what enters into it be separated from it. An eye is a part of an organism ; and it can hardly be said to be an eye when it is removed from the organism, though some of its characteristics may still remain. All the things that we know are known by being in some way consciously apprehended ; and it is hard to say what would be left of them if they were not thus apprehended. What is specially characteristic of conscious apprehension as such valuation and all that connects with that could hardly be supposed to remain unaffected if the object were separated from every form of conscious apprehension. On the other hand, space, time, and number can hardly be supposed to belong specially to any particular consciousness. Sensible qualities, such as colours and sounds, fall between these groups. Hence there is some real ground for distinguishing between primary, secondary, and tertiary qualities in this respect. This is, however, a subject to which we may have to return later. In the meantime, it may at least be stated that the sense in which space or sound is contained in a particular consciousness is very different from the sense in which intensity or pleasure is contained in it. 3. Contemplation and Enjoyment. Reflection on the dis- tinction between what is rightly referred to the conscious centre and what is rightly referred to particular objects that are apprehended, has sometimes led (as, most notably, with Descartes) to a definite philosophical dualism, The latest 248 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY form in which the distinction has been emphasized is that adopted by Professor Alexander, 1 who describes the appre- hension of distinct objects as the contemplation of them, while that which is properly referred to the conscious centre is said to be enjoyed. It is difficult, however, to regard such a distinction as absolute. What seems specially to belong to the conscious centre is simply the fact of apprehension, with its various degrees. Other things are more or less definitely contemplated and referred to objects. Even pleasantness and unpleasantness seem to involve the contem- plation of particular objects and the valuation of them a valuation which, on reflection, becomes more and more objec- tive. Organic pain, in like manner, is referred to certain parts of the organism, and may be said to be contemplated as belonging to these parts. So with ' temperature, strain, taste, smell, sound, colour, and similar experiences. They are all enjoyed, in the sense that they are apprehended as belonging at a particular moment to the conscious centre. But they are also contemplated, in the sense of being given an objective reference. Pure universals and orders would seem to be the only things that are not, in any way, appre- hended as belonging to particular conscious centres ; and the pure characteristics of awareness as such seem to be the only things that belong simply to a conscious centre as such. All other objects of apprehension seem to be properly referred both to a conscious centre and to an object distinguishable from it. 4. Consciousness of Self. The question, in what sense we can properly be said to be conscious of the centre of consciousness itself, is one that presents some difficulty. In general, what we apprehend is particular objects ; but it is certainly true that, as reflection develops, we become aware of these objects as belonging to a unity which is distinguish- able from them, and which has a certain continuity and per- sistence. How the subject thus apprehended is properly to be thought of, we shall have to consider in a following chapter. 5. Immediate and Mediate Apprelicnsion. Our apprehen- sion of an object may be more or less direct. When we 1 $ee his article in Mind, January 1913. THE UNITY OF CONSCIOUSNESS 249 actually experience pain, the pain is so definitely there that it cannot be doubted. Similarly, a sound, a colour, a smell, etc., may be directly and indubitably apprehended. On the other hand, the reference of a particular object to a universal or order is more indirect. Even to recognize that this particular experience is a pain, is to group it with others that are not directly present. Similarly, to regard a colour as having a definite place in the colour scale, as belonging to a particular coloured body, as caused by special modes of vibration affecting the eye, the optic nerve, etc., all these processes carry us somewhat away from what is directly present. Most of our knowledge is of this indirect kind. Here also we have to recognize degrees. Though something is not directly present, it may be something with which we are acquainted ; or it may be something that is implied in what we directly apprehend or are acquainted with ; or, on the other hand, we may only know it by description. Thus, we directly apprehend sensible qualities ; we are acquainted with persons ; causal relations are implied ; the existence of people whom we have never met, especially those in remote times and places, is only known to us by description. 6. Quantitative Aspects in Consciousness. It appears, from what has now been noted, that there are several ways in which there may be more and less in the facts of our conscious experience. The quantitative aspects of the objects of which we are conscious have already been referred to. The process of consciousness itself seems to have extensive, protensive, and intensive magnitude, and perhaps also degrees of approximation to a perfect type. The intensive magnitude of consciousness is the most obvious. It is what we express by saying that we are wide awake or half -asleep. It is prob- able that the consciousness of an oyster, in comparison with ours, is always in this sense less : it lacks vividness of appre- hension. There does not appear to be any definite limit to this kind of magnitude. However wide awake we may be, it seems possible that we might be stilj more vividly awake. It would seem to be this kind of magnitude that Descartes meant by " clearness." It is quite different from the intensity of the object. We may be vividly aware of a dim light, a 250 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY faint sound, or a slight pain ; and we may have only a feeble consciousness of a bright light, a loud sound, or an intense pain. The more purely subjective our experience is, however, the more does this distinction disappear. The intensity of a pleasure seems to mean simply the vividness with which it is apprehended except when it is a remem- bered or anticipated pleasure, in which case we have to distinguish between the pleasure that we remember or antici- pate and our present enjoyment of it. What Descartes calls " distinctness " seems to be different from this. We may be vividly aware of ten purple points arranged in a certain order, and yet not be definitely aware either that they are ten or that they are purple or that they are in that particular order. This is a qualitative difference. It is chiefly in this respect that the human consciousness is in general superior to that of the lower animals. But there may be more or less of this qualitative difference. It represents relative superiority in the power of discrimination. Besides these two modes of more and less, it seems clear that conscious- ness has protensive magnitude. A conscious process goes on throughout a certain time. The extensive magnitude is hardly less apparent ; but it has to be borne in mind that it does not mean spatial magnitude. What is called the " span " of consciousness is largely temporal i.e. the objects apprehended in it are before or after one another. But they are apprehended together in what has been called ' the " specious present." The range of this may be greater or less. A man who is blind would have less range in one respect than a man who can see ; one with little retentive- ness or little imagination would have less than one who was more fully endowed in these particulars. Thus it would seem that there are several ways in which consciousness may be more or less. 7. Attention. The fact expressed by the term "atten- tion " appears to be closely connected with the quantitative aspect of consciousness. What is vividly present to con- sciousness is said, in the widest sense of the word, to be 1 James, Principles of Psychology, vol. i, p. 609. See also Royce, The World and the Individual, vol. i, pp. 420-2 ; vol. ii, passim, especially pp. 123-6. THE UNITY OF CONSCIOUSNESS 251 attended to. One who is nearly asleep is not attending to anything. But one may be awake to certain things and not to others. One may be awakened by a loud noise or by becoming aware that it is time to rise. In the former case it would seem that the intensity of the object leads to vivid- ness of consciousness : in the latter case the vividness of consciousness is due rather to a subjective interest. The primary meaning of attention, then, would seem to be simply that certain objects are vividly apprehended ; but we generally mean also that the objects become not only vivid, but distinct ; and this will at least usually involve a definite process of consciousness directed in a particular way. In order to under- stand this, it is necessary to inquire what is to be understood by feeling, interest, and activity. 8. The Nature of Feeling. The term " feeling," like so many others that we have to use in philosophy, is somewhat ambiguous. It is applied generally to modes of apprehension that lack distinctness. It is thus contrasted with definite knowledge. We feel that something is true when we vaguely apprehend it, without being able to prove it. Those modes of sense -apprehension that are least perceptual are often referred to as feeling e.g. temperature, smell, pressure. They are contrasted with the definitely perceptual apprehen- sion that we get by means of sight. Even the vague knowledge that we get of things around us by pressure or contact is often called feeling. But the term is specially applied to those experiences that are most purely subjective, of which the sense of agreeableness or disagreeableness is the most conspicuous. This is, more definitely than anything else, an " inner sense," an apprehension of our own attitude towards things, rather than of anything that we can properly refer to objects. Yet it is not without objective reference. It is particular objects that we regard as agreeable or dis- agreeable, and in so regarding them we are applying a standard that is not purely subjective. This standard is best described as that of value ; but in pure feeling we apply the standard without any distinct apprehension of it. Any other standard may be applied in a similar way. We may feel that a large number of objects are before us without 252 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY counting them : probably many animals are aware of numbers in this way. Similarly, we may feel that a temperature is high without giving it any definite place in a scale. We may feel that an argument is convincing, without being able to set it forth in a definite logical form. And so in many other cases. The reason why valuation stands out as in a very special sense the sphere of feeling seems to be that the ultimate standard of value is peculiarly difficult to appre- hend, so that it is always felt rather than known. 1 This we shall have to notice more definitely in a following chapter. 2 In the meantime, we simply note that what is specially meant by feeling, as the term is used by most modern psychologists, is the simple attitude of liking or disliking, in those cases in which we cannot say " I like this because of that," but rather, as in the case of the celebrated Dr. Fell, when we have to confess " The reason why I cannot tell." 9. The Meaning of Interest. Interest is closely con- nected with feeling, in the sense that has just been referred to. It is a mode of valuation in which the ground is partly apparent. When we are interested in things, we like them ; but, to some extent, we know why we like them. We are at least able to express our liking in general terms. We like this or that thing ; we are interested in things of this or that kind. It follows also that interest is not a merely momentary experience, as the simplest forms of liking are : it is a persistent attitude of valuation. This also will have to be considered more fully in a later chapter. 10. Mental Activity. We now come to a subject of great importance, and one that has been a source of much con- fusion. Mr. Bradley has rightly said that the treatment of activity has been a scandal in philosophy. His own attempt to explain it, however, is not very satisfying. The " expan- sion of self " is a vague and not very intelligible phrase. 1 The objective aspects of feeling have been well brought out by Professor J. A. Smith in a paper published in the Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, vol. xiv. I cannot, however, agree with his paradoxical contention that painful feeling is properly absence of feeling. Just as Black and Cold are experienced as positive, though connected with physical facts that may be called negative, so I think, the experience of what is painful is as truly to be called feeling as the experience of what is pleasant. 3 Chapter VIII. THE UNITY OF CONSCIOUSNESS 253 Activity in general has already been referred to in connection with causation. To be active is to be efficient ; but we saw that it is difficult to give any definite meaning to efficiency ; and that those who attempt to give such a meaning are generally led to mental activity as that in which the meaning can be most definitely seen. Now, when the mind is active we certainly do find something that may be called efficiency ; but we have to try to discover exactly what it is. In order to see this it will be well to return to the subject of attention, in which recent psychologists have sought to discover what is most definitely characteristic of mental activity. ,Wc have noticed that attention means primarily intensity of consciousness, which may mean either degree of clearness or degree of distinctness or both. Now, degree of clearness seems to depend on general wakefulness ; and this, as we shall note more fully later, seems to depend largely on organic conditions. Degree of distinctness is more dependent on the attitude of consciousness itself. But the fact that any par- ticular object becomes distinct may be partly due to its objective character. A loud sound or a bright light or a sharp pain becomes distinct much more readily than a faint, dim, or dull one. In so far as distinctness is dependent on such purely objective conditions, it is generally said to be involuntary ; and this kind of attention does not involve much that can be called activity in any special sense. But usually attention is dependent on interest i.e. on valuation ; and it is in such cases that it seems to involve mental activity. Voluntary attention seems to mean distinctness brought about by valuation. If our interest is purely cognitive, it is atten- tion and nothing more. But usually our interest is in things that are not immediately present, but have to be brought about by a causal process. Valuation is then the first step in a series of changes. In other words, we have a case of change brought about by the apprehension of a final cause ; and this appears to be what is properly to be understood by mental activity. This point, however, will have to be further considered in connection with the question of freedom. 1 1 Chapter IX, I. See also above, Book I, Chapter III. 254 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY 1 1 . Faculties of Mind. That in a certain sense there are distinguishable faculties in our conscious life, is too obvious to need insisting on. It is especially apparent when any of them chances to be lacking. The lower animals appear to be incapable of definite processes of reasoning and the kind of conscious choice that is connected with this. It is probable that most of them have not the power of retaining and calling up free imagery. There are also great differ- ences among human beings in these respects. Some have little power of consecutive reasoning : some lack strength of volition : some are deficient in visual imagery : and so forth. Again, some are incapable of apprehending colours : others are inaccessible to sounds or smells : others are more or less defective in other respects. Most of these deficiencies are connected with defects in the organs of sense or the nervous system or with imperfect development of portions of the brain. It is clear, then, that there are many faculties in respect of which conscious beings may be more or less fully endowed. The objections that have been made to the recognition of this have come mainly from psychologists who have sought to reduce all consciousness to one level usually sensation or feeling. Sometimes, however, the objection is only an exaggerated protest such as we find in the writings of Carlyle against the attempt to split up the unity of conscious life into a number of separate elements. That this has sometimes been done is not to be denied. The earlier forms at least of phrenology seem to have been guilty of it ; and some forms of common -sense psychology are open to the charge. Aristotle cannot, I think, be fairly criticized on this ground. Plato, who recognizes a smaller number of faculties, is perhaps justly to be charged with having cut them off too sharply from one another. A similar charge may also be made against many recent psychologists, who have distinguished different aspects of consciousness in a way that seems to place an impassable gulf between them. The threefold division into knowing, feeling, and willing is the best known. It was not invented by Kant ; but it was he who first gave it currency. Yet Kant himself recog- nized that knowing involves selective activity, and so cannot be altogether separated from choice ; and the relation THE UNITY OF CONSCIOUSNESS 255 between feeling and willing is so obvious that they have recently been grouped together under the conception of interest. What seems to be mainly responsible for the separation of these faculties is the unique position occupied by the apprehension of value. 1 To value seems to be an attitude of mind towards what it apprehends, and so seems to be distinct from the simple fact of apprehending. But, as Brentano urged, to believe is also a distinct attitude of mind, and yet seems clearly to be a mode of knowing. To apprehend objects as having value is surely a mode of appre- hension. It is a very important mode, especially in view of the fact that it plays a conspicuous part in the formation of interests, and through them on the concentration of atten- tion and the carrying out of movements. But it seems clear that every fact of consciousness is a mode of awareness or apprehension. Feeling and activity cannot really be regarded as something essentially different. The account of activity given in the preceding section ought to help to make this clear. 12. Stages of Conscious Growth. It remains true that the modes of our conscious experience are highly complex ; and that we can distinguish conscious centres as more or less fully developed, and more or less fully equipped. Even among human beings it seems clear that a highly civilized and cultivated person has certain powers more fully developed than an uncultivated savage, though the latter may also be superior in certain respects. In general it would probably be true to say that the savage has more vividness in some of his apprehensions of sensible qualities, but less completeness in the power of intellectual discrimination, especially in the definite apprehension of universals and orders. A similar difference is still more conspicuous when we pass from the human consciousness to that of various types of animals. The doctrine of evolution naturally leads us to view the relations between these different types as an ascend- ing scale. Looking at them in this way, it seems to be true to say that the lower forms of conscious life are without any definite apprehension of universals and perhaps apprehend nothing but sensible qualities very vaguely related to one 1 For the discussion of this, see Chapter VIII, especially 6. 256 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY another. This may be called the stage of mere sensation. It is pretty certain, however, that all the higher animals apprehend sense qualities as connected together in the unity of more or less permanent objects i.e. they have not merely sensation, but sense -percept ion as well. The power of re- calling and anticipating such perceptions by means of free imagery is probably of later growth ; and the power of using such imagery as a means of singling out and relating universals appears to be a specially human faculty. Thus it seems right to distinguish four main stages in conscious growth. 13. Genetic Treatment of Psychology. The recognition of such stages in conscious growth as succeeding one another in the process of evolution, has naturally led to the attempt to study psychology genetically a method that was to a certain extent anticipated by Aristotle. It has to be borne in mind, however, that the possibility of such a mode of treatment is dependent on the knowledge that we have of the somewhat fully developed modes of apprehension that we ourselves possess. Lower stages of conscious life become intelligible to us only by the omission of some of the charac- teristics of our own consciousness. We can in some measure understand the peculiarities of animal life by supposing that they lack some of the modes of apprehension that we have more particularly the definite discrimination of universals. Sometimes, it is true, it may also be necessary to suppose that they excel us in certain respects e.g. in the vividness with which certain sensible qualities are apprehended and possibly even in the possession of certain forms of sensi- bility that we lack. Yet it remains true that we have, on the whole, to start from the higher level and go down to the lower. It is also true, however, that the attempt to go down to the lowest stages helps us to analyse the distinguish- able elements in our own apprehension more completely than might readily be possible without such a descent. It helps us to recognize that some of the aspects of consciousness with which we are familiar might be lacking without the total disappearance of consciousness ; and this enables us to see more clearly what it is that is contributed by these THE UNITY OF CONSCIOUSNESS 257 aspects to the development of our mental life. It helps us to distinguish, more clearly than we otherwise could, between the lower and the higher aspects of our conscious life, and so to recognize the essential nature of what was described by Heraclitus as the " upward path." But there is a danger that, in thus going back to the simpler stages, we may be led to suppose that the more highly developed can be explained by the lower. This was the error into which Herbart and those who are commonly described as Associationists appear to have fallen ; and it may be doubted whether more recent treatments of genetic psychology are wholly free front it. It is an error to which the theory of evolution in general is liable ; and, as we have already noted, Professor Bergson has done valuable service in pro- testing against it, and maintaining that evolution is really " creative," in the sense that the later stages cannot be said to be contained in the earlier. They do, however, develop from the earlier in a more or less definite order. 14. Mind and Body. It has been noted at various points that our conscious life is closely related to the organism in connection with which it grows up. Our modes of sensible perception seem to be clearly dependent on the presence of definitely formed organs, including an elaborate nervous system and brain structure. Mental activity also leads to various forms of bodily movement. It is now time that we should consider more definitely how we are to under- stand the connection between modes of conscious process and modes of bodily movement. We may first notice the ambiguity that is involved in speaking of consciousness as "in the body." All that we seem to be entitled to say, as Descartes rightly emphasized, is that consciousness is properly referred to certain parts of the bodily organism. His attempt to connect it with a certain point in the brain is now known to be erroneous ; but there is a sense in which pain is rightly referred to a tooth or foot or other parts of the organism, in which the apprehen- sion of colour is rightly referred to the eye, of sound to the ear, and in which consciousness in general is rightly referred to the structure of the brain and nervous system. Any injury 17 258 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY to these parts of the organism or any deficiency in them deprives us of some element in our apprehension of objects or seriously vitiates it ; and with the actual loss of any im- portant organ wisdom may be "by one entrance quite shut out." It seems right, therefore, to say that there is a causal relation between changes in the organism and conscious pro- cesses. Nor is it less clear that conscious processes react upon the organism. The strenuous activities of a Napoleon, the more restrained movements of a Newton, as well as the more commonplace motions of ordinary human beings in their everyday life, cannot be accounted for without reference to conscious purposes. Napoleon, indeed, is said to have declared, " People speak of me as if I were a person : I am not a person, I am a thing " ; but this is a pretty obvious exaggeration. His actions have to be partly accounted for by the pressure of circumstance, but that pressure would not be effective without the intervention of his own choice. All this is so apparent that it is only by some sort of sophistry that it can be questioned. It has, however, been questioned, and we have to notice the reason. Here, again, we can discover the reason most definitely by referring once more to Descartes. It was the dualism of Descartes, together with his peculiar view of causation, that led to the denial of any definite causal relations between mind and body. He conceived, as we have seen, that causa- tion could only be definitely understood by supposing that the effect is already contained in the cause. Now, in the material system it seemed possible to interpret causation in this way, by maintaining that it is simply to be understood as continuity of motion. There is always, he thought, the same amount of motion, estimated in a particular way, in the physical system ; so that it may be held that in physical causation there is never anything new ; and this applies to organic structures as well as to other material things. But clearly conscious process is not spatial movement. Hence we cannot regard any physical change as the cause of a conscious process, or any conscious process as the cause of a physical change. The conscious system and the material system have to be regarded as two different worlds, between which there cannot be any causal relations. THE UNITY OF CONSCIOUSNESS 259 But this doctrine of Descartes is really a reductio ad absur'dum. The essential nature of the conscious system, according to him, is thought : that of the material system is extension. But, if this were so, and if these were the only two systems in being, there would be nothing to be extended and nothing to think about. Colours, sounds, smells, and so forth, are neither space nor thought. There is no room for them in Descartes' philosophy. Nor is there any room for the consciousness of animals, which do not think. Hence the animals have to be regarded as automata ; and colours, sounds, smells, etc., have to be regarded as some- how arising from the union of consciousness with a part of space. The latter view at least is clearly unintelligible. It seems clear that in the philosophy of Descartes nothing exists but pure thought and pure space. But space as such cannot be supposed to move. What moves must be some- thing that changes its position in space. Similarly, there is, it would seem, nothing to think about except the pure self, which also cannot be supposed to change. Hence there cannot be either a material process or a conscious process. This is evidently a reductio ad absurdum ; yet it is really on this view that all the supposed difficulties about causal relations between mind and body appear to rest. It is often said that the modern doctrine of conserva- tion of energy presents the same difficulty as that suggested by Descartes ; but this seems to be entirely erroneous. It only appears to do so when it is interpreted after the Cartesian fashion. For the modern doctrine does not involve either that there is nothing but pure space in the material system or that the quantity of motion in that system is always the same. According to that doctrine, actual motion has to be distinguished from potential motion, and qualitative differ- ences in the things that move are not denied. A physical organism, according to this theory, contains a certain amount of potential energy. So does a machine. So does one of the heavenly bodies. But the organism or the machine may be at rest ; and the heavenly body might 'also come to rest. All that is maintained is that, when they are at rest, there is the possibility that they might be set in motion again under certain circumstances ; and that the amount of motion, 260 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY estimated in a certain way, that might then be produced, is an amount that can be definitely calculated. The heavenly body might be set in motion by the impact of another body. The machine might be set in motion by the accidental (i.e. non -purposeful) turning of a valve. The organism might be set in motion by an act of choice leading to nervous change. What happens in all these cases is that the possi- bility of movement becomes actualized. When this happens, not only is there a definite amount of movement generated, but the kind of movement is also that for which the par- ticular body is adapted. How any of them takes place, we cannot explain except by saying that it is in accordance with the general structure of the material universe. 1 If the view of causation that has been already set forth is correct, there is no more difficulty about the causal rela- tions between mind and body than about any other case of causal relation. The only circumstance that distinguishes it from other cases is that here the particular fact which we call consciousness is definitely present, whereas in describing other cases we have only to refer to other facts, such as attraction or repulsion, vibratory movements, electrical dis- turbances, chemical transformations, vital functions, and so forth. Whether any of these imply consciousness, is another question. In dealing with thinking beings, at any rate, we have to recognize the definite presence of consciousness, and, with that, the presence of the final cause i.e. choice or valuation. To this we must refer further in succeeding chapters (VIII and IX). It might be thought that the view of causation that has been here adopted rendered it of no importance whether we characterize the relation between mind and body as one of interaction or of parallelism. For, it may be said, all inter- action, according to our view, means no more than parallelism. 1 The various theories of the relation between mind and body are well set forth in Dr. McDougall's Body and Mind. Dr. Ward's Naturalism and Agnosticism may be referred to on the theory of Energy (vol. i, Lecture VI), and for a searching criticism of psycho-physical parallelism (vol. ii, Lecture XI). My own view is somewhat more fully explained in an article in Mind (October 1911). The treat- ment of the whole subject in Dr. Bosanquet's Principle of Individuality and Vnlnc (especially Lecture V) is highly instructive. Professor Strong's book, Why (he Mind has a Body, is also worth referring to. So is Ostwald's Natural Philosophy^ pp. 143-4. THE UNITY OF CONSCIOUSNESS 261 It seems to me, however, that this is not quite true. According to the view that I have tried to explain, a cause is an organizing principle ; and, in considering the relation between mind and body, we have to ask whether any such principles can be discovered. It seems clear that in any case of volition there is such a principle. Our volitions depend on our valua- tions ; and these constitute a pretty definite system. Some one (was it Cardinal Manning?) is said to have once men- tioned to Huxley that, while he was walking along the street, he suddenly remembered that he wanted a pair of boots, and turned in another direction to get them. He asked Huxley whether he believed that this change took place inde- pendently of conscious choice ; and Huxley is said to have replied that he did. But surely it is true to say that the explanation of the change is to be found in the valuation of boots. There are many intermediate links ; but it is here that we find the moving principle. On the other hand, if I suddenly hear a clap of thunder, it seems clear that the moving principle implied in this change is to be found primarily in certain physical transformations not apprehended by me and remote from my organism. Hence we seem justified in agreeing with common sense (not an infallible guide, but one that should not be lightly disregarded) in thinking that in volition the essential causal 1 principle is within our own conscious structure, while in sensation it is rather to be sought outside. Of course, in both cases there are many complications ; but if we look for the main organizing principles that are concerned in the changes that take place in the two cases, we appear to be led to the conclusion that has been indicated. i 5 . Personality. A conscious being, then at least such as we are familiar with in our ordinary experience may be thought of as a physical organism partly affecting and partly controlled by certain modes of apprehension and valuation. Such organisms have a considerable degree of persistence, and undergo changes of a more or less complex character. The physical organism passes through various stages similar to, but much more complex than, those that can be studied in the lives of plants ; but these changes are to a con- 262 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY siderable extent affected by the processes of apprehension and valuation with which they are associated, and these are themselves subject to more or less extensive transformations. In the case of the lowest forms of animal life the latter changes are comparatively slight. They go on apprehend- ing the same kinds of objects in regular succession, and reacting upon them in accordance with their inherited instincts. In the higher animals there is a certain amount of learning by experience and acquiring habits which sometimes over- rule the instincts with which they start. But it is only in human life that there is anything that can properly be called history. What a human being apprehends is to a large extent retained, and he is able to a considerable extent to antici- pate what is coming and to adjust his activities to it. His valuations also become modified by his accumulated experi- ence. These changes react to some extent on the physical organism itself, especially in its more vital parts and those that are most directly related to his conscious life. He thus both persists and changes in much more complex ways than any other form of individual existence ; and both his persistence and his changes are related to other beings around him in ways that are increasingly complex, so that his indi- vidual organism becomes a less and less prominent element in his life. This is what we understand by calling him a person. A person has interests that carry him far beyond his life as an organism. But they depend so much on inter- personal intercourse that we cannot properly deal with them until we have given some attention to the nature of the social unity to which the life of the individual is more and more closely related, and by which it is more and more profoundly affected. CHAPTER VII SOCIAL UNITY i . General Significance of Social Unity. In the general study of psychology, as Dr. Ward has urged, our point of view is primarily individualistic. It is the way in which apprehen- sion and valuation develop at individual centres with which we are mainly concerned. The foundations of the modern study of the subject, in this sense, were laid by the line of indi- vidualists from Hobbes through Locke, Berkeley, and Hume. But if we were to end with the individual consciousness, our knowledge even of that would be extremely limited. The developed consciousness of the individual is essentially social. Our knowledge has been gained by co-operation ; our tastes are moulded by social intercourse ; our actions are directed to social ends. That this is true in human life is so obvious as hardly to be worth insisting on. The slightest reflection shows that, if we emptied our lives of all that is not simply our own, the residuum would be poor indeed. The self- centred individual would be indeed in knowledge a private person, an " idiot," or, as Goethe put it, " ein Narr auf eigener Hand " : and, in action, all the higher values which are apprehended in self-devotion to large ends, to country, to humanity, to beauty, to ideal perfection, would be absent. On every side we see, without much philosophical investigation, Unless above himself he can Erect himself, how mean a thing is man. But to see the precise significance of this is not so easy ; and it is now our problem to inquire into it. 2. Egoism. Many have tried to put themselves, tempo- rarily or permanently, at the point of view of pure 263 264 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY individualism. In pure theory the position is shown by Plato in the person of Protagoras ; in its practical application, in Thrasymachus . The Cynics and Cyrenaics illustrate it a little later. Descartes tried to adopt a purely individualistic position as his starting-point, and, as we have just noted, it was more consistently adopted by the line of thinkers from Hobbes to Hume. Rousseau adopted it very largely in his earlier writings. The earlier English economists were a good deal infected by it. In Germany it is represented, in an extreme form, by Stirner and Nietzsche. Such a position is not without value. Though the individual grows through his relations to the social unity, he also reacts upon these rela- tions ; and it is, in the end, important that he should be himself, as well as the child of his society. But it is with the latter aspect that we are at present concerned. The following considerations may help us to escape from the purely egoistic standpoint. 3. The Escape from Solipsism. Here, as in so many other cases, we can hardly do better than set out from Descartes. We have already had occasion to notice his contention that our first certainty is that of our own conscious experience. From this he was led to affirm the reality of self ; and he conceived that other kinds of reality are only indirectly de- rived from this. Berkeley, from the same point of view, urged that a thinking substance is the only kind of sub- stantial existence that we know, or that we have a right to assume. It was against these views that Kant's " Refutation of Idealism " was directed. Kant urged that we become aware of persistent objects distinct from ourselves before we have any definite apprehension of the persistence of the think- ing subject ; and that our conviction of the latter is really based upon our apprehension of the former. Hume had already urged, in a clear and cogent way, that, if we observe our own conscious states, what we are primarily aware of is their incessant change, rather than their persistent unity. Kant pointed out that the apprehension of change implies the recognition of something that persists throughout the change ; but he agreed with Hume in maintaining that we do not directly apprehend what it is that thus persists in our conscious SOCIAL UNITY 265 states ; and that we have a much more direct apprehension of persistence in the case of objects that we distinguish from ourselves. We watch a moving body, for instance, and are directly aware that, in changing its position, it maintains its self -identity. The persistence of a cannon-ball, a bird, or another human being, is much more obvious than the per- sistence of ourselves as conscious beings ; and it is by reflec- tion on the former that we are able to think of something that persists in the latter. Kant emphasized this further in his treatment of what he called the " Paralogisms of Rational Psychology," where he urged that we have no sufficient ground for maintaining the persistent substantiality of the self. We might quite well suppose that the continuity of consciousness passes from one substance to another. Indeed, even Descartes did not really maintain the persistence of the thinking sub- stance. He thought, as we have already noticed, that the thinking being is created afresh at every moment ; so that it is, in reality, always a fresh substance, though maintaining a certain continuity with the previous one. With these particular doctrines we are not at present concerned. We have only to note that the possibility of them shows the fallacy of Solipsism the fallacy, that is, of the view that we have a greater certainty of the persistence of ourselves than of the persistence of objects distinct from ourselves. Later philosophers have emphasized the same point. In particular, those who are commonly called the " New Realists," though not denying a certain persistence of the conscious self, have helped to bring home to us that our apprehension of the persistence of other things is quite as direct. The genetic treatment of psychology tends power- fully in the same direction. It is natural enough for a highly developed reflective consciousness to believe that it is more fully aware of itself than of anything else ; but when we ask what sort of apprehension can be supposed to belong to more primitive intelligences, we see more clearly that consciousness of self can hardly be regarded as the kind of consciousness that is most direct and certain. An oyster, as Hume urged, can hardly be supposed to have much consciousness of itself ; and even beings a good deal higher in the scale are pretty obviously more vividly aware of the 266 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY objects with Which they have to deal than of their own conscious states. Some reflections on this may help us to see more clearly the part that is played by the apprehension of the social unity in the development of the individual consciousness. 4. Consciousness of a World of Things. It seems probable that some of the lowest forms of animal life are not able to apprehend anything more than some simple sense impressions, such as pressure, temperature, pain, and the like ; but it is pretty certain that all the higher animals apprehend persistent objects. Birds seem to recognize their nests and the materials that are necessary for their construction, as well as objects suitable for their food. The ox and the ass know their master's crib. Dogs and other intelligent animals seem clearly to recognize a great variety of things and various relations among them such as size, nearness or distance, intervals of time between their recurring phases, etc. Among human beings also it is probably true to say that the appre- hension of things distinct from themselves and persisting in definitely recognizable forms precedes any definite awareness of themselves, except that which is simply organic such as the experience of hunger, thirst, pain, etc. Certainly most children display at a very early age an eager curiosity with regard to surrounding objects. The attitude expressed by R. L. Stevenson is probably characteristic of healthy childhood in general : The world is so full of a number of things, I am sure we should all be as happy as kings. But this obviously involves a social consciousness as well ; and I should suspect that the reflective touch is the most doubtful element in the expression. A very young child would probably enjoy the many objects around it without thinking much of its own happiness, and still less of that of others. Still, the social consciousness follows very readily upon the consciousness of a multitude of persistent objects. 5. Consciousness of other Conscious Beings. How the consciousness of other conscious beings first arises, it is not altogether easy to determine ; but it would seem to be vaguely SOCIAL UNITY 267 present at very low stages of animal life. Perhaps it may at first mean little more than the apprehension of persistent sources of reaction. Things in general are simply acted upon. Food is eaten, nests are built, eggs are deposited and sat upon. But sometimes the objects apprehended by an animal are apprehended as reacting upon it. The young for which it instinctively cares cannot be simply handled. They them- selves act in definite ways, responding to or resisting the activities of the parent. In the case of carnivorous animals the prey resists or attempts to escape. Those animals that are not carnivorous are, in general, preyed upon by others. Similarly, in mating, fighting, and other activities, the animal comes in contact with definite and persistent modes of re- action. Objects of this type must soon be pretty definitely discriminated from those of a more passive kind ; and the animal's complex relations to them in various modes of action must serve to give it a more definite apprehension of its own organic being than it would otherwise have. In human life, at any rate, such modes of interaction become a very prominent part of the general conduct of life, and give rise to those complex modes of the apprehension of ourselves and others which are described by such terms as projection of self, introjection, and the like. We ascribe to others organic experiences such as we ourselves feel pain, strain, hunger, thirst, emotional disturbances, etc. and we go on to interpret their modes of activity and expression by ascribing to them various likes and dislikes, opinions, trains of thought, similar to, but in some respects different from, those that we appre- hend in connection with our own activities. Having thus apprehended other beings as persistent sources of complex movements and centres of complex modes of apprehension, we are led to reflect more definitely on our own individuality, and to realize more clearly than we otherwise could that we also are such persistent centres. At first, it would seem, we take ourselves for granted, without reflection, and only through the apprehension of others become aware of our- selves as objects. Our pain simply pains us : the pain of others is apprehended as the experience of a particular persistent object. Our opinions are simply what we think : the opinions of others present themselves to us 268 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY as the more or less heterodox and peculiar attitudes of particular beings. Reflection on others enables us gradu- ally to realize that we also are particular and more or less peculiar, and that this particularity has a certain persistence. 1 6. Consciousness of a Group. Our consciousness of others, however, is not simply the consciousness of a number of particular beings. It is also the consciousness of a group, to which we in some ways belong. Most of the higher animals are gregarious ; and in most of them the care of the young involves continuous relationships with a definite number of individuals. In connection with this, imitation plays an important part. Young animals observe and copy the actions of their parents. This is especially noticeable in some birds, among which it seems to be almost an essen- 1 The account of the growth of the idea of personality in the peculiar case of Mr. Hanna, given by Messrs. Sidis and Goodhart in their hook on Multiple Personality (pp. 103-4), bears so closely on this that it may be well to quote it here. Mr. Hanna was gradually recovering from his loss of consciousness, and building up anew his apprehension of the world. " When he acquired knowledge of the existence of living beings, it was still hard for him to realize what persons really were in contradistinction to other living beings, and when he learned to differentiate the two, it was difficult for him to realize that he, too, was a person. Persons, he thought, moved about, while he was lying in bed ; then, too, they were dressed, while he was not. The manner in which he learned that he, too, was a being like other people is interesting. Mr. Hanna, pointing to himself, asked an attendant, ' People ? people ? ' meaning to inquire whether he himself belonged to the same beings, and receiving an affirmative reply, he understood that he, too, was ' people.' Here again his imitative proclivity manifested itself in that he wished to be dressed and appear like other people. He was anxious to feel that he also was a person. To emphasize the fact to himself and others, and at the same time thinking this condition indispensable for personality, he was desirous of appearing dressed like those about him. " It was difficult for Mr. Hanna to realize that, although he was a person, still his personality differed from that of others. It was hard to convey to him the different shades of meaning of words that indicate consciousness of individuality. The ego or self-consciousness came rather late in his present mental development. He was certainly conscious, and the activity of that consciousness was very intense. He was most eagerly taking in and elaborating impressions coming from the external world, impressions that were to him entirely new ; still, the consciousness of self was for some time absent. It was only after prolonged efforts on the part of his teachers that he could grasp the meaning of words conveying the idea of personal relations." See also, in connection with this subject, Stout's Manual of Psychology, Book IV, chapter vii, and Groundwork of Psychology, chapter xiv ; and compare what is said on personality below, Chapters X and XI. The work of Avenarius may also be referred to with advantage. SOCIAL UNITY 269 tial element in the preservation of their lives. Various expressive sounds and movements also serve for the guidance of the young, and in many cases continue to guide the move- ments of adult members of the species. The way in which sheep follow the movements of their leaders has become proverbial. Thus even the lower animals become aware of themselves as belonging to a persistent group of partly com- peting and partly co-operating individuals. In human beings this becomes more definitely developed. They imitate one another, they communicate with one another, guide one another, compete with one another, co-operate with one another, are conscious of common ends to which they adapt common means, and in many ways learn to think of their group or groups as a more comprehensive unity of which they are parts, and from which they are not entirely separable. 7. Social Psychology. In consequence of these inter- personal relations, it becomes necessary, in some respects, to treat the group, rather than the individual, as a psycho- logical unit. Much has been written in recent times, by Lc Bon and others, on the psychology of a crowd. When the mind of an individual is at work, in close co-operation with those of others, it tends to lose its individuality to a certain extent, and to identify itself with the dominant spirit of the mass. A skilful demagogue evokes passions that would other- wise lie dormant ; but, in general, he also is stimulated by the responsiveness of his audience to a degree of enthusiasm which, but for that response, he would hardly feel. Beliefs, which would be questioned in private, get the force of objec- tive certainties when they are known to be shared by a multitude. " My belief gains infinitely," said Novalis, " as soon as it is shared by another." " Infinitely " is too strong a word ; but a belief does hi this way lose some of the doubtfulness that attaches to purely subjective impressions ; and, when it is not merely another individual, but a whole group or a " compact majority," by whom the belief is shared, it is hardly too much to say that the difference is " infinite " in other words, it is qualitative, and cannot be expressed in terms of pure quantity. It is thus that the " hue of resolution," which, in private reflection, is " sicklied 270 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY o'er with the pale cast of thought," gains new vigour in co-operative effort. Those who lead great undertakings come to feel that they are the instruments of an almost irresistible force. It was this, no doubt, that Napoleon had in mind, when he said that he was not a person but a thing. Tolstoy exaggerates it in his contention that in war a general counts for almost nothing, and that it is by the driving power of the mass that results are brought about. But, in a qualified way, the view is probably not without truth. Hence, in a purely psychological sense, a group or society cannot be regarded as simply the sum of its members, but has almost to be treated as a fresh personality in which the separate individuals are to a large extent merged. It is such considerations that justify us in speaking of a common or tribal Self. In a very large community, where there are a great variety of different interests and tendencies of thought, this kind of unity becomes less impressive, unless it is somewhat artificially stimulated, or brought into prominence by a national crisis. In smaller groups, such as a tribe, it can be more readily observed. Here the common consciousness is sometimes ' so strongly marked that the separate members seem to have hardly any individuality at all. They have hardly any private opinions or private taste or conscience or private modes of action. Byron said that orthodoxy tends to mean " my doxy," and heterodoxy that of some one else. It may be so in a community in which individual liberty is strongly developed ; but in a simpler state of society orthodoxy means rather the beliefs of the group to which I belong ; and this is to some extent the case even in more advanced societies. And if our thought is thus affected by the whole of which we are parts, our feelings and actions are still more strongly influenced by it. It is probably true to say that what we call conscience begins as the recognition of the restraining power of the group to which we belong. Conventional morality has its origin in the sense of the binding force of the customs of our people ; and even in ages of reflection it has been noted that custom lies upon us with a weight, Heavy as frost and deep almost as life. SOCIAL UNITY 271 When the social consciousness is intensely developed in a relatively unreflective way, it tends to oppose itself to every- thing that tends towards change. People cling to their old traditions. If there are any prophets, they are stoned. Reformers, if any venture to come forward, are regarded as " cranks." Those who try to set up higher ideals are described as " prigs," or by some other opprobrious epithet. Still stronger is the opposition to what lies outside the group. Other peoples are not merely heterodox, but heathens or barbarians. The " Kultur " of the particular community, as the Germans call it, is thought of as the highest and best. Efforts are made to crush out other forms, or reduce them to subjection. Thus the struggle between groups tends to take the place of the struggle between individuals, which is prominent in some of the lower forms of animal life. 8. Social Significance of Education. In a group of the kind that has now been referred to, education necessarily plays a considerable part, in the sense in which education means the initiation of the individual into the spirit of his society. It is here that human life is most definitely marked off from that of the lower animals. Even in the most gregarious species, the instincts that are inherited seem to be in all cases nearly sufficient for the carrying on of their lives. A little may have to be acquired, in some cases, by imitation, and a little has to be perfected by experience ; but, in general, such acquisitions appear to be almost negligible. In human life, on the other hand, each new generation has to be initiated into the traditions of its pre- decessors, especially those that have become embodied in language and other methods of symbolic representation. The world of meaning becomes, for human beings, increasingly more extensive than the world of fact. Hence some sociologists, notably Durkheim, 1 have described education as 1 " All education," he says, " consists in a continuous effort to impose on the child ways of seeing, feeling, and acting to which it would not spontaneously come." See Les Regies de la Mcthode sociologiquc, p. II : also his article on " Pcdagogie et sociologie " in the Rcvuc de Mclaphvsique ct de Morale, vol. xi. This aspect of education is well emphasized also in Mr. Lester F. Ward's Applied Sociology. " In the administration of the social estate," he says (p. 307), " the first and principal task is to hunt up all the heirs and give to each his share. But every member of society is equally the heir to the entire social heritage, and ... all may possess it without depriving'any of any part of it." 272 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY a " new birth " the birth of the social man out of the embryo of the individual. There are other aspects of education, which will have to be noticed at a later stage. These, however, do not always form a prominent element in the life of the community. The making of the citizen, in some form or other, is the aspect of it that can never be wholly absent. Where the social unity is intensely developed, as in the Greek city-states, it becomes specially prominent. In the work of Plato and Aristotle, the study of politics or social theory is almost coincident with the study of education in this sense. It is mainly the study of the way in which the individual can find his right place in the community, and be fitted for the fulfilment of his function in it. In most modern communities the social bond, though more comprehensive, tends to be somewhat looser and less intense ; and the independent life of the individual counts for more. Hence the civic function of education is relatively less conspicuous ; but in Germany at least, where the consciousness of national unity has become exceptionally strong, the function of education in the making of the citizen has again been very fully recognized ; and in other nations also there has been a somewhat more tardy recognition of it. In connection with this, the antithesis which is commonly expressed as that between nature and nurture has become somewhat prominent. Most animals are what they are simply by nature. Man, on the other hand, " partly is and wholly hopes to be " ; and the relative importance of nature and nurture becomes an important subject of inquiry. 1 Plato emphasized the importance not only of the right placing of his citizens, and of providing the right education to fit them for their purpose, but also of a kind of antenatal selection by which the best natures might be secured. The modern study of Eugenics aims at a similar result. Selection of this kind is practised in the breeding of animals to serve human purposes ; but the purposes of human life itself are so much more complicated, and in some respects so incalculable, that it hardly seems possible to accomplish much in this direc- tion. At any rate, the study of Eugenics is not as yet 1 One of the best general discussions of this is that contained in Ward's Applied Sociology, especially Parts II and III. SOCIAL UNITY 273 sufficiently advanced to call for more than this slight allusion at the present point. 1 9. Mechanical, Organic, and Spiritual Aspects of Social Unity. It has become common in recent times to charac- terize the social unity as organic ; and for general purposes of social study this way of regarding it is not altogether inadequate. The life of a society may certainly be com- pared to that of an individual organism. It grows, and it may also decay. Its members have a life which loses its significance when cut off altogether from that of the com- munity ; and it works for ends which are not simply those of its individual members. But, while its general life may be regarded in this way, it is important to notice that a conception of this kind is not equally applicable to all the aspects of its life. This is true even in the case of an individual organism. The bones, joints, and muscles of a living being have a different kind of relation to its life from that which may be ascribed to the brain and nervous system, or to the organs that are directly concerned with the assimila- tion of food and the circulation of the blood. Some organs are more vital than others. Some may be fairly regarded merely as instruments that are used by others. Some may be removed without serious injury to the life of the whole, and might even be transferred as in the engrafting of plants from one organism to another. There is something similar in the life of peoples. Many of the institutions of national life serve purposes that are almost purely mechanical. Par- ticular laws are framed for particular occasions. Machines themselves and various kinds of tools become a more and more prominent aspect in the life of communities. Most of these might be destroyed or altered without any very serious change in a nation's general outlook on life ; and they can readily be transferred from one community to another. The general structure of a language is more vital ; and scientific, moral, and religious beliefs are more vital still. But it would not be easy to draw any sharp distinction between those aspects that are mechanical and those that are vital. Hardly any- thing that is used in the life of a society can be regarded 1 See also below, Chapter XI, 6. 18 274 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY as merely an instrument. Almost everything that is used in this way reacts to some extent upon the habits, feelings, and beliefs of those by whom it is used ; so that it is, in general, true to say that all the aspects of a people's life are as truly organic as those of an individual being. Of course, the extent to which this is true depends a good deal upon the structure of the society. In a despotically governed society, or one in which there is a large slave population, many of the members may be said to be little more than instruments that are used by their rulers. But such instru- ments at least can hardly fail to react in a vital way on those who use them sometimes, as in the case of Greek slaves under Roman rule, in a way that is profoundly influential. But there is another point that it is important to notice. If we take plant life as the type of a pure organism, it is evident that the introduction of a conscious centre, which becomes a more and more conspicuous aspect as we advance in the scale of animal life, differentiates the latter in a very important respect from the former. When the conscious centre is highly developed, the rest of the organism may be regarded, more and more, as an instrument under its direction. Hence we were led to distinguish the unity of consciousness from a simple organic unity. Now, a society contains consciousness, and so its life can at least hardly be assimilated to that of a plant. In a despotically governed State, it may be said to bear more semblance to that of an animal, the ruler or rulers corresponding to the guidance of the conscious centre. But even this analogy is very im- perfect. Even in the most despotic State, the rulers are largely influenced by conceptions that belong almost as much to those over whom they rule as to themselves ; and in free communities it becomes more and more apparent that the guiding principle is not to be found in any one conscious centre. What really guides, in such a case, is to a large extent traditions and beliefs that have grown up in an almost unconscious way. So far as this is true, the society may be said to revert somewhat to the plant type, and so to become more purely organic. But this, again, is only partially the case. As the life of a society advances, it becomes more and more clearly conscious of the principles by which it is SOCIAL UNITY 275 guided, and of the grounds on which they rest. Its life thus becomes, more and more, one in which conscious centres are related to one another, and consciously influence one another. It is a unity in which persons are related to persons. If this is to be called an organic unity, it must at least be borne in mind that it bears but little resemblance to the unity either of a plant or of an animal. It is best, therefore, to dis- tinguish it 'from these by calling it by a different name. The most appropriate name for this purpose would seem to be that of " spiritual unity." What we have to recognize, then, is that in the unity of a society we have to distinguish certain aspects which are not much more than mechanical, others that are somewhat akin to the unconscious growth of a plant, others that may be compared to the conscious guidance of an animal, and others that carry us beyond any such analogies. Those of the last type become increasingly important as human life advances ; and it is with these that we >shall be concerned in the chapters that immediately follow. The conceptions that are chiefly important in connection with them are those of choice, valuation, freedom, and personality. 1 10. The Foundations of Sociology. The complexity that we have now noticed in the structure of society makes it possible to study it in different ways. When we direct our attention to the conscious ends that are involved in its life as a spiritual unity, we are led to those studies that were called by Aristotle Ethics and Politics, and that are still often known by the same names. The foundations of these studies will have to be considered later. Aristotle, however, had already noted that societies are first formed with reference to little more than the necessities of life, and that it is only after- wards that they are led to realize that they exist for the 1 Dr. McTaggart, in his Studies in Hegelian Cosmology, chapter vii, has made some interesting criticisms on my mode of characterizing the social unity as organic. It would be somewhat out of place to discuss his criticisms here. I may state, however, that with a good deal of what he urges I do not substantially disagree ; and I hope that the explanations given in this chapter and in Chapter XI will at least remove some of his objections. In his Commentary on Hegel's Logic he appears to have less objection to the application of the conception of "organic unity" to human society than he had when the earlier book was written. 2 ;6 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY sake of good life ; and his study of Ethics and Politics is to some extent a study of origins and existing conditions, as well as of ultimate ends. In recent times it has been found convenient to make a more definite separation between these two methods of study ; and the study of society, with reference rather to its origin and growth than to its ultimate ends, is now usually described as Sociology. It is not concerned directly with final causes, but rather with efficient or formal causes in the sense already explained i.e. with the relation of social unity to the causal order that is discovered in the processes of vital and psychological development, as these are exhibited in connection with various physical environ- ments. Its special object of study is the group consciousness as affecting the activities of individuals. It traces this back to its humblest beginnings in the gregarious species of animal life, and notes its growth and influence at different stages and in different circumstances throughout the history of man- kind. It is the natural history of human life in its definitely social aspect, and is most closely connected with biology, anthropology, and psychology. Final causes can hardly be neglected altogether in such a study ; but they are only incidentally referred to, so far as they can be shown to be actually efficient or formative in the development of human life at particular stages. It is thus mainly concerned with the more mechanical and organic aspects of society, and only prepares the way for the study of its more distinctly spiritual aspects. 1 What it now remains for us to do is to pass from this somewhat matter-of-fact way of regarding the life of self- conscious beings, and to enter upon the consideration of the way in which their lives are affected by the definite intro- duction of final causes i.e. by the recognition of ultimate values. The general significance of value is, accordingly, the next subject that calls for our attention. 1 For an account of the limited way in which the science of Sociology tends to be conceived, reference may be made to Professor Durkheim's book on sociological method : also to an article by Dr. Rivers in the Sociological Review, vol. ix, no. i. CHAPTER VIII THE CONCEPTION OF VALUE i . Feeling as Valuation. The recognition of one thing as being better than another is, to some extent, involved in all conscious life ; but, in its earlier stages, the recognition is of a very vague kind. Even in plant life there is a selection of what is suitable and a rejection of what is prejudicial. This might be called organic valuation ; and, in our own conscious life, there are some valuations to which this term might be very well applied. When we like what is sweet, or dislike what is painful, the choice that is implied would seem to be essentially that of the organism. The organism makes unconscious selections ; and a conscious being, having taken over his organism as a going concern, begins by accepting its selections, just as a ruler may accept the wishes of his people. The obvious pleasantness or unpleasantness of some tastes and smells, in particular, does not appear to be explicable in any other way. We do not know why we are pleased or displeased by them. We simply find that they arc pleasing or displeasing to us ; nor can we, by taking thought, make them otherwise, except indirectly and in a slight degree. 1 ; ' The expulsive power of a new affection " may enable us to ignore them, or habit may weaken them, but there they still remain. This is the most rudimentary form of valuation. When, on the other hand, we like to have power or wisdom, our valuation is of a much more reflective kind, and can much more easily be modified by changing our point of view. This has often been explained by saying that pleasures differ in quality ; and it may be well to consider how this is to be understood. 1 It is experiences of this kind that Brentano, if I understand him rightly, would call Gcfithlscmpjindungcn. See above, Book I, Chapter III, I, 277 2;8 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY 2. Qualities of Feeling. The emphasis on different quali- ties of feeling, as representing higher and lower modes of valuation, is to be found most definitely in the works of Plato and Aristotle. It was also brought out, though in a much less clear and consistent form, by J. S. Mill, who urged that some forms of pleasure are intrinsically prefer- able to others. The truth, however, seems to be, not that certain modes of feeling are preferable to others, but rather that the preferences implied in some modes of feeling are better grounded than those implied in others. Pleasure is commonly taken to mean a mode of preference that is rela- tively passive. We do not choose to be pleased, but simply are pleased. Different terms are generally used for those modes of satisfaction in which the grounds of valuation are more apparent, and in which the element of active choice is consequently, in some degree, present. Joy, for instance, expresses an attitude that is not purely passive. It generally implies the attainment of some object that has been more or less consciously pursued. .We are pleased by certain tastes, smells, sounds, colours, etc., whether we have been seeking them or not ; but joy comes to us only when we achieve some object that we have, in some more or less definite way, desired. It is in connection with this that what has been called " the paradox of Hedonism " appears. We cannot get joy unless we are interested in some object the attainment of which yields satisfaction. This is not necessary, as Sidgwick pointed out, in the case of sensuous pleasure. The interest in this case is organic, and comes to us without choice. Happiness means a kind of satisfaction of a still more complex kind than joy. The lower animals are, in general, capable of joy, but probably not of happiness. To have happiness we must have some conception of life as a connected whole, involving a variety of co-ordinated aims. All these modes of satisfaction are primarily ego-centric. A man may have pleasure, joy, and happiness without reference to any other consciousness than his own. There are other modes of satisfaction that are more definitely social, or that imply the adoption of a point of view that is not simply that of the individual. Love is a mode of valuation that is in general concerned with other persons. It may be directed THE CONCEPTION OF VALUE 279 towards a single person, or, as in the love of country, rather towards a group. It may also be directed towards objects that are not directly personal, but to which a kind of personality is ascribed, as in the love of nature, of freedom, of justice, of beauty, of truth, of goodness, and the like. In all such cases the object is valued for its own sake, rather than for any direct relation that it has to ourselves. The satisfaction resulting from the contemplation of such objects is sometimes called bliss or blessedness. It would be somewhat misleading to say that these higher modes of satisfaction are necessarily in themselves prefer- able to the lower. The joy of battle is not necessarily to be preferred to the pleasure that is derived from sounds or colours. The happiness of an egoist is not necessarily higher than the pleasure of an epicure. Even love may be as foolish and as degrading as appetite ; and the bliss of a drunkard may have no more lasting value than the organic pleasure by which it is largely conditioned. What is true is rather that the capacity for adopting a higher point of view opens up the possibility of developing interests in objects that have more intrinsic value. In all cases it is important to bear in mind that it is not the valuing that is valued, but the object to which value is attached. There is such a thing as the enjoyment of pleasure or the love of love ; but these are secondary sentiments, which presuppose the pleasantness of something other than pleasure and the love of persons or things other than love itself. 1 3. Feeling-tone and Feeling-attitude. We have now reached a point at which it seems both possible and desirable to explain more definitely the exact significance of the distinction that has been referred to more than once before, between feeling-tone and feeling-attitude, or between Gefiihtsempfindungen and Gefiihle, or between simple feeling and liking, or however else it may be best to phrase it. 2 It 1 One of the best discussions of emotional states is that in Dr. McDougall's Social Psychology. See especially chapter v, in which the distinction between Joy and Pleasure is well brought out. 2 There are many ways in which the distinction may be expressed. I think, for instance/.that the contrast drawn by Goldscheid (Zur Ethik dcs Gesamiwillcns, PP- 73-4) between originate and ubertragene Gcfuhlc calls attention to what is essentially the same point, 280 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY is largely, I believe, in consequence of the ignoring or im- perfect apprehension of this distinction, that the whole treatment of feeling has presented so much difficulty in psychology. It seems clear that feeling -tone has many of the characteristics of sensation. This has been strongly emphasized by Adamson, 1 and is also very well brought out by Professor Kiilpe. 2 In view of this, it is very naturally placed among the sensations, though it is without a special sense-organ, and may be characterized as an " inner sense," in contrast with those that can be traced either to sources external to the organism or to special parts of the organism itself. Liking or feeling-attitude, on the other hand, appears to be rather an incipient choice, and hence has been classed by some (especially by Brentano) along with volition. Dr. Ward and others have felt the unsatisfactoriness of either mode of classification, and hence have tended to give it a rather anomalous position by itself. The difficulty is a real one, and I cannot pretend to deal at all fully with it here. I can only indicate what appear to be the main considera- tions that bear upon it. Even feeling -tone may be said to be an incipient valuation ; but it is a valuation that has to be ascribed to the organism or to the subconscious work- ing of the mind, rather than to the conscious self. Liking, again, even when it is the result of reflective choice, tends to pass into simple feeling-tone. We more or less forget the grounds of our valuation, and simply retain the sense of value. This process may be compared with that by which deliberate actions tend to pass into habits that, in the end, are hardly distinguishable from instincts. Again, the dis- tinction is apt to become a little blurred, owing to the fact that we may value the feeling -tone itself. We may, for instance, like the pleasantness of a taste, sound, or colour. It seems possible even to like what is in itself disagreeable, as, for instance, in what is called the " luxury of grief " such an attitude as that of Lady Constance, " Grief fills the place up of my absent child." But see below, 10. It is in this sense, I think, that it is rightly maintained by 1 Development of Modern Philosophy, vol. i, pp. 175-9. 7 Outlines of Psychology, Part I, 2, THE CONCEPTION OF VALUE 281 Dr. McTaggart, 1 Dr. Rashdall, 2 and others, that we may attach quantitative estimates to pleasures. We may value the sense of value, just as we may love love. This is, I suppose, what is done by the pure pleasure -seeker ; and, though he cannot really measure his sense of value as such, he can yet give it a place in his general scale of values. It may be noted also that the sense of value, like other sense -experiences, may be distinguished, as Dr. Moore has urged,3 from the consciousness of it. This hardly appears to be true of definite liking ; but the transition from the one to the other is often gradual and almost imperceptible. It seems to me that many of the most puzzling problems about feeling are removed by this distinction ; but to dwell on it farther at this point would carry us too far away from our special problem. It is enough to urge here that reflection on the considerations that have now been in- dicated may enable us to realize that the distinctions between the different aspects of our conscious life are by no means as sharp as has often been supposed ; and especially not as sharp as Dr. Ward has represented them as being. 4 But what specially concerns us here is the fact that, just as we can advance from feeling-tone to liking, so we may advance from liking to choice, and from that to the con- sideration of intrinsic value, which is independent of our individual preferences. 4. The Social Element in Valuation. It has been noted in the previous section that our valuations are not always made from a purely individual point of view. Of course, the object that we value must in some way interest or appeal to us ; but the interest may be one that carries us away from our own individuality. It has sometimes been said that love 1 Si/idles in Hegelian Cosmology, chapter iv. 2 Theory of Good and Evil, at the beginning of the second volume. 3 Principia Ethica, pp. 87-9. Plato seems to have been substantially right about this. See especially his treatment of pleasure in the Philcbus. * The whole subject, however, bristles with difficulties. Some of the most important of these, and the chief theories by which they may be met, are well brought out by Professor Titchener in his Psychology of Feeling and Attention. See especially p. 291. On different qualities of pleasure, there are some interesting remarks in Dauriac's Essai sur I'cspril musical, chapter x, 282 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY is selfishness for two ; but, at any rate, it is very different from selfishness for one, and it is seldom confined to the simple dualism that is thus suggested. It involves the appreciation of qualities that have a certain universality. At any rate, when love is extended to a larger group, such as a country, the element of selfishness becomes more and more evanescent ; and, in the love of liberty or truth, the object is clearly of a universal kind. In the interest of such objects an individual may have to sacrifice not only his life, but also his prejudices or idola. He puts himself at a point of view that commands a larger survey than he has merely from his own centre, and he corrects his own outlook by reference to the other. He may even be led in this way to value what he dislikes. Things for which he has no natural taste may be seen to be intrinsically good. He may choose what as a private individual he detests. Valuation thus comes to be a much more complex process than it is when it is guided simply by our passive impressions or by our natural instincts or impulses. 5. The Transvaluation of Values. We thus come to a point that has been specially dwelt upon in recent times by Nietzsche. Our valuations are not constant, but arc subject to change and development. The most obvious illustration of this is found in the transition from the lower forms of satisfaction to the higher. Sensuous pleasure and the joy of physical action and expression bulk more largely in the early stages of human life than they do in the more reflective consciousness that is developed later. Little is valued at first but what is an immediate source of pleasure or joy. The pursuit of happiness leads to a considerable transforma- tion of these earlier valuations. It may even, as with the reflective Epicureans in ancient times, lead to an almost com- plete disregard of what was at first most highly valued, or to a (tendency to treat such objects as having rather a negative than a positive value. Some of the Epicureans taught that our attitude towards sensuous gratification should be one of such indifference that even the tortures of the rack, viewed as an episode in a well-conducted life, might be regarded as pleasant. A similar transformation takes place when we THE CONCEPTION OF VALUE 283 pass from the point of view of individual happiness to that which is implied in the love of others. Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori ; and for the sake of a friend also it is sometimes felt to be more blessed to give than to receive. The friend, as Aristotle put it, gets the gift ; but the giver gets TO KaXvv, which he values more. Here, however, we are passing from the attitude of simple love to the conception of intrinsic good. But the latter conception itself is one that tends to undergo transformation. What is best has been differently conceived in different ages and by different schools of philosophic thought ; and the value attached to particular objects is affected by such transformations. Some, for instance, value liberty more than social order ; others tend to arrange these goods in the opposite way. There are similar differences in the valuation of truth, courage, temper- ance, art, and almost all the objects, either personal or impersonal, that men tend to pursue or cultivate. 6. Grounds of Valuation. These considerations lead us to notice, more 'definitely, that, at the higher levels of conscious choice, things are not valued without ground. The recognition of the grounds of valuation tends to become more and more distinct as choice becomes more conscious. In simple pleasure and joy, and often even in love, the grounds of preference are hardly apparent ; and the same is of course true of their opposites. It would be somewhat absurd to inquire why any one dislikes toothache or debility. The same is no longer the case when we are concerned with happiness. Most people know pretty well why they value health, wealth, or power. Their valuation may be partly instinctive, but, in general, it is largely based on the know- ledge that the chief ends of life (of which, however, they may not have any very clear conception) are subserved by the possession of these goods. Other things, again, are valued with reference to these goods food for health, efficiency for wealth, popularity for power, and so on. In such cases the feeling of satisfaction, which is the prominent feature in purely sensuous valuation, tends to fall somewhat into abey- ance. It does not wholly disappear, but often it becomes so faint that it. can hardly be described as pleasure. Thr 284 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY man who values knowledge, because knowledge is power, may even have a certain distaste for knowledge which, as pure unpleasant feeling, is more marked than his appreciation of it. His valuation of it is then little more than the intellectual recognition that it is a thing to be chosen. We are thus led to notice that the apprehension of value, which in its earlier and more immediate phases is highly subjective, may become almost purely objective. 7. Objective Value. Our simplest valuations, as we have already noted, are simply individual likes and dislikes. We are not aware of any ground for them. The organism, how- ever, has a ground, and on reflection we become aware of that ground. The organism selects what is wholesome, in preference to what is unwholesome ; and, in general, we like what the organism selects, and dislike what it rejects. But this is only roughly true. We make a good many mistakes in our likings and dislikings. On reflection, we correct these mistakes, and begin to choose what we believe to be wholesome, even if we dislike it. Our ground of valuation thus becomes an objective one. We recognize that the value of food and drink does not consist in their being pleasant, though this is to some extent an indication of their value : but that it consists in their being means for the maintenance of life and health. Having discovered this, we go on to inquire into the value of life and health. Now, life is primarily valued for the joy of living, and health because disease is painful. But we gradually learn to value health rather as a means to efficiency, and life for the interests that it enables us to pursue. Thus, an objective ground is continually being substituted for the purely subjective prefer- ence ; and, in general, the objective ground is the recognition that the thing that we value is a means to something else. The more this is recognized, the more does the fact of sub- jective appreciation sink into the background. A banker, in counting his cash, is aware of the relative values of the pieces with which he deals, but probably does not feel any more emotional thrill at the sight of a sovereign than at that of a penny. His valuation has become almost purely objective, THE CONCEPTION OF VALUE 285 8. Instrumental Value. When things are valued in this objective way, almost everything is regarded as good for something else, rather than in its own intrinsic nature. Spencer has illustrated this use of the term " good " with his usual profusion of instances, from umbrellas to human conduct. The things that are most commonly valued in this way, however, are, in general, impersonal. Hence a sharp distinction has sometimes been drawn notably by the Stoics between things and persons. It can hardly be made quite sharp, however, since some of the qualities that belong to persons e.g. their skill in particular kinds of work are naturally regarded as means. Kant distinguished between those things that have a market value, those that have a fancy value, and those that have an intrinsic dignity or worth. A fancy value is essentially subjective, and does not here concern us. The important distinction for our present purpose is that which seems to be best expressed as the distinction between instrumental and intrinsic value. The former, it would seem, may or may not correspond to a market value. The objects that have instrumental value are, for the most part, things that are separable from persons, but that are capable of being used by them. They are generally " fungible " i.e. capable of being treated as classes, the units of which may be substituted for one another and regarded as equivalent for particular purposes. Most 'things of this kind can be passed from one 'person to another, and can be exchanged for other things of equal or comparable value. It is chiefly with such things that the science of economics is concerned, though it has also to take some account of certain things that are not directly exchangeable, but the use of which can be paid for such as personal services. It is customary in the study of economics to consider these objects mainly, if not exclusively, from the point of view of their market value ; and it is explained that this is de- pendent on demand and supply i.e. on human desires, on the one hand, and the difficulty of satisfying them on the other. The former is evidently a subjective factor ; and the latter is partly so, inasmuch as one of the difficulties in procuring things is the aversion of human beings to certain 286 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY forms of labour. Hence this kind of value, though partly objective, in the sense that it is not simply dependent on individual likes and dislikes, is also 'largely subjective. It depends on the interaction of individual likes and dislikes, and on those collective likes and dislikes which are expressed in changing fashions. 1 Ruskin, in his criticism of the usual methods of dealing with economic questions, sought to eliminate this subjective element. He contended that " the only wealth is life," and that the value of all objects should be determined by reference to their serviceableness in the promotion of life. He seems to have thought that, in this way, a definite and constant value could be assigned to all the objects of which human beings make use. But this is surely erroneous. The serviceableness of objects for the purposes of life varies very much according to circumstances affecting both the objects and the persons who use them, and would probably be as difficult to determine in this way as it is by reference to men's fluctuating desires and aversions. It may be objected also that there is some misuse of language in the statement that wealth is life. What is meant seems to be rather that wealth consists of objects that are used for the support or promotion of life. It remains true, however, that, when wealth is regarded in this way, a considerable transvaluation of economic values is brought about. An objective standard is substituted for the standard that is set up by the inter- action of individual desires and aversions. Much that is regarded as wealth from the latter point of view becomes what Ruskin calls " illth," or at least has its value greatly reduced, and several things to which many people arc averse come to be regarded as possessing a positive value. Alcohol, for instance, may have its value reduced, and some forms of labour, instead of being treated simply as cost, may have to be treated as positively valuable. The essential point is that the standard of valuation becomes the conception of a definite objective end, instead of being based merely on subjective preference. 1 It is to be regretted that the purely hedonistic interpretation of valuations (now abandoned bv almost all philosophical writers) is still to a very large extent adopted by writers on economics e.g. by Professor Marshall. THE CONCEPTION OF VALUE 287 If, however, the promotion of life is regarded as the end, we are led not merely to a trans valuation of economic values, but also to the valuation of objects that can hardly be treated economically at all. Things that are not fungible or ex- changeable or separable from the lives of persons have to be regarded as possessing value. This is especially brought out by the modern doctrine of evolution. Spencer, for instance, regarded the promotion of life as the end ; and, in a different way, a similar doctrine was emphasized by Nietzsche. The chief difference is that Spencer thought of the promotion of life as meaning the production of an ideal form of social unity, whereas Nietzsche thought of it in a more purely individual way. In whichever way it is re- garded, those things that contribute to the advancement of life, whether individual or social, have 'to be regarded as possessing positive value ; and those things that tend to impede its advancement, as having negative value. If we think of the advancement of life simply as a struggle, in which the fittest survive, the kind of value that has to be ascribed things is that which is commonly characterized as " survival value." Horns, spurs, talons, teeth, muscular force, the power of nervous endurance, ability to assimilate and retain objects as food, length and pliancy of limb, quickness of perception, and many other objects and qualities, would, from this point of view, have great value in the struggle for existence among animals. Some of them would retain considerable value in human life ; but here we should have to add knowledge, foresight, tact, resourcefulness, adaptability, readiness to co- operate, etc. ; and, on the more definitely social side, organiza- tion, technical skill, diplomatic resources, armies, fleets, fortresses, and the like. But it is hardly possible, on reflec- tion, to regard the mere maintenance of life, whether of individuals or of communities, as the end for which we have to strive. Most evolutionists recognize that what we have to aim at is not the survival of the fittest, but the survival of the best. Spencer thinks of a free co-operative community ; Nietzsche thinks of the Superman. Thus it is not merely life that is taken as the end, but a particular type of life ; and things are estimated, not simply by reference to their survival value (though that would still have some weight), 288 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY but with reference to their tendency to further the develop- ments of what is regarded as the highest type. It is generally recognized at least that it is not ultimately wise propter vitam vivendi perdere causas. But this raises the question, What is to be regarded as the highest type, and why? Spencer ultimately takes pleasure as the test ; Nietzsche apparently regards the Superman, as conceived by him, as having intrinsic value or worth, without reference to any other end. On either view, however, it seems clear that something has to be recognized as having intrinsic value in itself, and that it is with reference to this that the objective valuation of all other things has to be made. We are thus led to the recognition of a kind of objective value that is not merely instrumental, but intrinsic. 9. The Cottception of Intrinsic Value. It seems clear that life, simply as such, can hardly be taken as that which is intrinsically good, but only some particular type of life, either individual or social. If we say that " more life and fuller " is what we seek, we have still to inquire what is meant by " more " and " fuller," or, as Spencer puts it, by the " length and breadth " of life. A merely vegetative life, or even a merely sentient life, could hardly be supposed to be a complete expression of what is intrinsically good. It would seem that it must be at least some form of self- conscious life. Spencer, as we have noticed, took pleasure or complete happiness as the ultimate test of its realization. Sidgwick put forward a clearer and more definite argument in support of this view (which, in itself, is of course a very old one). He urged that what is regarded as ultimately good must be something that can be consciously apprehended ; and that we see, on reflection, that the only thing that we consciously value for itself is pleasantness. The plausibility of this lies in the fact that whatever we consciously value is, in the widest sense of the word, pleasant or agreeable or satisfying. But it seems clear that what satisfies us is always something that is distinguishable from the fact that it satisfies. Even if we are satisfied with pleasure, the pleasure that satisfies can be distinguished from the satisfaction that we experience in having it ; and, if we are satisfied with know- THE CONCEPTION OF VALUE 289 ledge or power or freedom or order or beauty or justice, the object that satisfies is still more obviously distinct from the satisfaction that it yields. The question is, What kind of object, when consciously apprehended, yields an immediate satisfaction which is not simply due to our recognition of it as a means to something distinguishable from itself? This is not an easy question to answer ; but the objects that most obviously present themselves to us as having this charac- teristic are Truth, Beauty, and Goodness. It would seem, however, that no one of these could be accepted as satis- factory, if the others were absent. If what is real were ugly and bad, the apprehension of what is true with regard to it would not satisfy. Yet the saying " Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise " seems to put this too strongly. Conscious ignorance could hardly be bliss, though uncon- scious ignorance might be pleasant or joyful. Goodness, again, is apt to present itself rather as a means than as an end. The will to realize what is best seems to presuppose something that is best at which it aims, and which can be distinguished from itself. The effort after what is best, with- out its achievement, could hardly yield satisfaction. Beauty appears to be more nearly an object that yields pure satis- faction, when clearly apprehended. Yet, if it were appre- hended only as an ideal to be sought, not as something that can be known as real, it does not appear that it could yield any complete satisfaction. Reality apprehended as completely beautiful would yield satisfaction ; but it would seem that the satisfaction would be more perfect, if it were also appre- hended as being consciously chosen i.e. if the element of goodness were added. This much seems clear ; but it is not so easy to explain what is properly to be understood by beauty. It seems to mean a unity of diverse elements, arranged in perfect order, without external compulsion, but determined by its own essential nature. We may be able, at a later stage, to consider this more definitely. The con- ception of spiritual unity and cosmic unity may throw some light upon it. In the meantime, we must be content with the statement that, for any complete conception of intrinsic value, it seems to be necessary to have a certain combination of Truth, Beauty, and Goodness. A universe apprehended as 19 290 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY truly beautiful, and consciously chosen as such, seems to be the nearest that we can get to what would finally satisfy us. ! 10. The Unity of Values. Reference has already been made to Dr. Moore's use of the conception of organic unity in connection with value. His point is that the value of a complex object is not simply the sum of the values of its constituent parts. I think, however, that the term " organic unity " is here somewhat misapplied. Even in a mechanical system the whole can hardly be treated as simply the sum of its parts. A pair of scissors, regarded as a mechanical com- bination, is more than the sum of its two limbs ; its efficiency depends on the possibility of co-operation due to the manner in which the two blades are united. The truth seems to be rather that it is a mistake to speak of the value of any single object as such. According to Emerson, " nothing is fair or good alone." Its value is always dependent on its place within some system to which it belongs ; and, as it may be included within a number of different systems, its value has to be treated as a variable magnitude. This is no doubt specially apparent when we are dealing with instrumental values. It is the ignoring of it that seems, for instance, to vitiate the treatment of value in Ruskin's Munera Pulverise But I think it applies, in some degree, to every kind of value or worth. The value, positive or negative, that we attach to a war depends largely on the question whether we are regard- ing it from the point of view of the devastation, destruction of life, pain and embittennent of feeling which it occasions, or from that of the heroism and self-devotion that are displayed in it or the promotion of national and international ideals that it may subserve. The value of an individual, regarded as a soldier, as a statesman, as the father of a family, as a good neighbour, as a teacher, and so forth, may be a very variable 1 It is greatly to be regretted that Green did not develop the hints that he gave in his Prolegomena ( 289, 370, and 381) as to the relations of Goodness to Beauty and Truth. It seems clear that, in the wider sense of the word, they are all good. For some further considerations bearing upon this subject, I may refer to my Manual of Ethics (5th edition), book ii, chapter vi, 3-60. a See especially chapter i, 13. He states there that " intrinsic value is the absolute power of anything to support life." Such value may be called objective. but it seems clear that it is essentially instrumental. It may be questioned also whether any particular thing can rightly be said to have such an absolute power. THE CONCEPTION OF VALUE 291 value ; and the values that are assigned to him in these respects may all be distinguishable from his intrinsic worth as a man. Again, it may be that, from the point of view of the universe, even his worth as a man among men is subject to qualification. This is a view at least that is familiar to religious thought as expressed, for instance, in the lines of Tennyson : Forgive what seemed my sin in me ; What seemed my worth since I began : For merit lives from man to man, And not from man, O Lord, to thee. It is certainly doubtful whether anything can properly be said to have intrinsic value, in the full sense of the word, except the Cosmos, regarded as a perfectly coherent and beautiful whole ; ' and, if it can be so regarded, it may be even that every part of it, viewed in its proper place, has absolute worth. But this is a conception with which we are not yet in a position to deal. 2 In the meantime, Truth, Beauty, and Goodness may be regarded provisionally as having intrinsic value ; 3 and all other things as having value or worth in the degree in which they are parts of such ultimate ends, or instruments that serve to promote their realization. 4 For this reason it does not seem legitimate to ascribe what are called tertiary qualities to particular objects in quite the same sense in which either primary or secondary qualities 1 I understand this to be the view that is taken by Dr. Bosanquet. See his Principle of Individuality and Value, especially p. 310. He suggests that the whole should be regarded as the standard of value, but not as having value. I understand him to mean by this that the worth, or intrinsic value, of the perfect whole, is to be distinguished from the relative or instrumental values of its parts. 3 See Chapter IV. 3 Miinsterberg's book on The Eternal Values may be referred to in this connection. 4 Failure to recognize the dependence of values on the whole to which' they are referred, seems to me to vitiate much of what is stated in Dr. McTaggart's paper on "The Individualism of Value" (International Journal of Ethics, July 1908). Professor Hoffding's axiom of the conservation of value (which is surely, in any case, rather a postulate than an axiom) " the conviction that no value perishes out of the world" has to be taken, I think, with a similar qualification. If the values do not perish, they may at least be transmuted. See his Philosophy of Religion, p. 6. The fact that in valuing things we are regarding them within a whole may also be taken as modifying what is stated above ( 3) about the possibility of liking what is in itself disagreeable. 292 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY may be properly so ascribed. Tertiary qualities are modes of value ; and the values that belong to things belong to them as contained within a system of valuations. The dis- tinction, however, is perhaps only one of degree. Primary qualities belong to objects as occupying definite places in a spatial system ; secundo -primary qualities, 1 as implying corresponding modifications in surrounding objects ; secondary qualities, as co-operating with sentient beings in the genera- tion of sense -data ; tertiary qualities, as occupying variable places in certain systems of values. 1 1 . Norms or Standards. The three aspects that seem to be contained in what is intrinsically valuable, furnish us with three standards for the estimation of value, which are in themselves distinct, though for complete value it is neces- sary that they should be combined. The combination of them in their completeness is best described as the ideal of perfection, and is sometimes called the Absolute. How far we can legitimately set up such an ideal, and make it fully intelligible, we shall have to consider later. In the mean- time, it may be noted that it is apt to appear that when the three standards are thought of as being combined in a perfect whole, they lose some of the essential significance that they have for us in their separation. Truth, taken by itself, seems to mean judgment that can be correctly ascribed to reality. But a whole, apprehended as beautiful and good, could hardly be expressed either as a single judgment or as a collection of judgments. Judgments, it would seem, could only express certain aspects of it ; and the truth, thus fragmentarily ex- pressed, would be neither beautiful nor good. Similarly, it might seem that a Cosmos apprehended as beautiful, would not be beautiful quite in the sense in which beauty is ascribed to particular objects. Beautiful objects are, in general, sensuously apprehended ; whereas what the Greeks called TO caXov is rather an intellectual conception. Goodness, in like manner, as we apprehend it, means essentially the love of what is true and beautiful, and the effort, in various particular directions, to realize them in some degree. A truth that cannot be expressed in judgments, a beauty that 1 See above, p. 188. THE CONCEPTION OF VALUE 293 is not sensuous, a goodness that does not contain the element of effort or aspiration, are apt to appear to be neither truth, beauty, nor goodness, as these terms are commonly under- stood. Such terms as Kant's " intellectual intuition " or Spinoza's " intellectual love of God," may be thought to destroy the specific meaning of " intellectual," " intuition," and " love." But it may be doubted whether such an objec- tion is valid. Truth, even in a limited sense, is not always expressible in separate judgments. The apprehension of any fundamental concept, such as Space, Time, Number, Quality, etc., is not a judgment or collection of judgments, but rather the foundation on which particular judgments rest. Nor is the beauty of a poem or of a chain of reasoning sensuous, though sensuous elements may be contained in it. Nor is the goodness of a saint simply or necessarily effort, though it will probably lead to and express itself in particular efforts. Hence it does not appear to be altogether impossible to think of a perfect whole in which what is essential in the three standards should be combined, without the limitations that belong to them in their separation. Hence it may be doubted whether it is right to make such an opposition as Kant makes and as Mr. Bradley and others seem also to make between intellectual intuition and human knowledge ; or, again, to say, as Spinoza does, that he who loves God does not desire to be loved in return. The knowledge that God has, and the love that God exercises, if we have a right to postulate them at all, would no doubt be, in many ways, different from any knowledge or love that can belong to us ; but it is not apparent that they must be so different as not to be rightly called by the same name. Still more, I think, must we question the contention of Dr. Bosanquet, that the ultimate standard of value does not itself contain value, that the supreme Good is not rightly described as good at all. 1 But these questions will have to be more definitely considered in a later chapter. 12. Normative Sciences. The three standards that have now been referred to furnish the foundation of what are often described as the normative sciences. Logic is said to 1 But see note i on p. 291. 294 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY be concerned with the standard of truth, aesthetics with the standard of beauty, and ethics with the standard of goodness. Logic, however, as we have already noted, is perhaps better regarded as the science of implication than as the science of truth. The science of truth may be better described as Epistemology ; but Logic is sometimes understood as being equivalent to this ; at least the distinction between the two subjects is not, in general, very sharply drawn. It seems true to say, however, that aesthetics and ethics are primarily concerned with the standards of beauty and goodness. The difficulty of all these sciences is that they are concerned with ideals i.e. with standards that we are not able to apply with any completeness. We are free, however, to aim at such completeness, and to approximate more and more nearly to their realization. And this leads us to notice the signifi- cance of the conception of human freedom, which is very closely related to that of value. 1 1 The general subject of Value is one that the Austrians have made peculiarly their own. Reference may be made, in particular, to the important writings on the subject by Meinong (Psychologisch-ethische Untersuchungen znr Wcrththcorie) and Ehrenfels (System der Wert-Thcorie). These writings have the defect of being too purely psychological (dealing more with valuation than with value as such). I passed some criticism on them, from this point of view, in some " Notes on the Theory of Value" that were published in Mind (October 1895) ; and they have since been more fully discussed by Dr. Urban in his book on Valuation, its Xainir timl Lines. Meinong himself, however, has adopted in his later writings a mote objective and metaphysical method of treatment. On the more economic aspects of the subject, the works of Menger, Wisser, and Bohm-Bawerk are specially important. The leading ideas of these writers have been well summarized by \V. Smart in his little book on The Theory of Value. The exposition of Intrinsic Value in Dr. Moore's Ethics (chapter vii) is very good. On the meaning and application of the term "Good," his Princi/tia Ethica (chapter vi) should be consulted. See also the b.olc-. by Mr. Dickinson (The Meaning of Good) and Professor G. H. Palmer (The Nature of Goodness). The treatment in Dr. Rashdall's Theory of Good and Evil is elaborate ; but I think it is somewhat confusing, owing to a lack of sufficient defmiteness in his attitude towards Hedonism. It gives, however, a very comprehensive view of the subject. CHAPTER IX THE PROBLEM OF FREEDOM i. The Connection of Choice with Value. It has already been urged that volition means essentially a mode of action in which the final cause becomes efficient. What this means has become somewhat more apparent in the light of the considerations that have been set forth in the last chapter. In all conation the element of valuation seems to be in some degree present ; but in its simpler stages this element is, to a large extent, implicit. Animal action implies prefer- ence, but the preference may be almost purely organic. In what is properly called choice there is a definite apprehen- sion of some good at which we aim, and the recognition of this good leads to movements directed towards its realization. The valuations that are thus involved may, however, as we have noticed, be based on grounds of very different kinds ; and it is mainly in connection with these differences that the significance of what is called freedom comes into prominence. Even simple animal action may be more or less spontaneous. The movements that are gone through in the working out of a complex instinct, such as those involved in a bird's con- struction of its nest, are, in a certain sense, more spontaneous than those involved in a futile struggle to escape from a cage or trap. In the former case there is an end to which a series of movements is definitely adjusted. In the latter case the movements are relatively spasmodic and ineffective. It may be doubted, however, whether, in either case, there is any distinct apprehension of the relation between end and means. This is sometimes the case in human action also. Cromwell said that a man never goes so far as when he does not know where he is going ; and Napoleon's saying, that 295 296 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY he was not a person but a thing, seems to be another way of expressing the same conception. In so far as this is the case, men can hardly be said to be free in their actions. They are free only in so far as they select a definite end, which they value, and are able to select suitable means for its attainment. The use of the term " free " with reference to ideas, which has become common in recent psychology, may help to bring out the significance of this. 2. Implicate and Free Ideas. Professor Hoffding, in par- ticular, has referred to ideas as being " bound " or free ; and Professors Ward and Stout have laid much emphasis on this distinction. It has also been strikingly illustrated by Professor Lloyd Morgan with reference to animal instinct. The point is that an idea may be more or less effectively present without being disentangled from its connections with other ideas. We may, for instance, be differently affected by objects of different colours without clearly knowing what the colours are ; or we may act differently in dealing with objects of different sizes and weights without having any definite apprehension of size or weight. Similarly, things may have value for us without any conscious process of valuation. It is common to use the term Instinct in con- nection with this. We say that we instinctively prefer one thing to another, or that we have an instinctive aversion from certain modes of action. There is some objection to this mode of expression ; but it serves at least to bring out a certain affinity that such valuations have with those modes of behaviour that are most properly described as instinctive. Instinctive actions seem to be best understood as actions that involve a definite adjustment of means to end, but in which the relation of means to end is either not clearly or not at all conceived. Now, in what is called an instinctive prefer- ence, we are generally pretty definitely aware of the relation of means to end. What we are not definitely aware of is the ground on which the end is selected. Sometimes this may mean that we are not clearly aware of a more remote end ; but it may sometimes be the case that the ground is not properly to be described as an end at all. The real ground for the selection of a particular end may rather be THE PROBLEM OF FREEDOM 297 that it is an instance of something that is intrinsically good. What we are not clearly aware of may be the relation of the particular to the universal, rather than that of the means to the end. Still, such a lack of clearness is akin to that which is found in instinct, and is an instance of the presence of an idea which is rather implicate than free. 3. The Meaning of Free Choice. When we say that human beings have free choice, we do not mean that they can bring about whatever they like, or whatever they regard as best, or whatever they think right. Even those who hold most strongly that Right is Might, would hardly go so far as this. They mean, however, at least that valuation is a force to be reckoned with. And it seems clear that this much has to be recognized. The fact that there is that tendency which is called gravitation, and the fact that there is that tendency which is called evolution, render the move- ments that take place in our world different from what they would be without those tendencies ; and the same is true of the tendency to appreciate values. The fact that people in general regard some actions as right and others as wrong has some influence in giving rise to the former actions rather than the latter. Similarly, the fact that a certain individual regards a particular object as better than another has some influence in .procuring or retaining the former rather than the latter. Even a purely animal preference has such an influence. There would be no nests if birds did not like to make them, and select suitable places and materials for them. But their preferences are, in general, fixed for them by their organic constitution ; whereas human preferences are determined by the more or less reflective apprehension of grounds. The ground may be the mere fact of liking ; but at least it is hardly ever the mere liking of the organism. Usually it is the recognition of something as being, in some more or less definite sense, the best among a number of possible alternatives. Now, it is at this point that some difficulties have been raised. It has been thought that to recognize possible alternatives is to deny the universality of the causal order, and so to introduce an element of contingency into the universe. This we must now consider. 298 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY 4. Contingency. It has been urged by some not always with special reference to the problem of freedom that the general laws or uniformities that are generally accepted as holding in the universe, as we commonly apprehend it, should all be regarded as subject to some exceptions. Poincare, for instance, maintained this with particular reference to the conservation of energy, especially in connection with the closely related problem of the interaction of mind and body. We have already seen ground to doubt whether it is neces- sary to suppose that there is any such exception in that case. It is true, however, that there are very few general principles that may not be supposed to be liable to exception. There seems to be some doubt, for instance, 'whether the law of gravitation applies to all objects that can properly be re- garded as occupying space. With that we need not concern ourselves at present. It is enough at this point to urge that there does not appear to be any real ground for supposing that the general principle of causation is violated by the fact of choice. The fact of choice rather supplies us with a fresh illustration of the significance of the causal order. There are, as we have seen, several different tendencies summed up in the general conception of causation ; and they are all liable to be interfered with by other tendencies, with- out any violation of the general principle. The fact that plants, in general, grow upwards does not violate the law of gravitation, any more than the eruption of a volcano violates it. But the tendency downwards is counterbalanced by the opposite tendency involved in organic growth ; just as two purely mechanical tendencies to movement in opposite direc- tions may counteract one another, and give rise to rest. The principle of conservation of energy, in like manner, is not violated by the transformation, as it is commonly expressed, of actual into potential energy i.e. by the cessation of par- ticular types of motion, or even of motion in general. So also the tendencies in the world to various kinds of move- ment, or tendencies that would lead to rest, may be counter- acted by the power of choice. But choice acts in an orderly way ; just as gravitation or evolution means an orderly way in which certain tendencies to change are discovered. A world in which there is choice is a very different thing THE PROBLEM OF FREEDOM 299 from a world without it ; just as a world without gravitation or evolution would be very different from a world in which these tendencies are to be found. But none of these is a violation of causal order : they are all illustrations of what causal order means. It is apt to be thought, however, in this particular case, that to recognize orderliness is to deny freedom. Dr. Ward, in particular, has recently maintained this, holding that human freedom implies contingency, in a sense that is incompatible with the general principle of causal sequence ; and many others appear to incline to the same opinion. In order to deal with this contention, it is necessary to consider the meaning of self-determination, and the way in which it is to be distinguished from other modes of deter- mination. This may enable us to see more clearly what is implied in freedom of choice. 5. Self-determination. Everything may be said to be, in a certain sense, self-determined. Causation does not mean that one thing is crushed or enforced by another, but only that there is a regular order by which the changing phases of distinguishable objects are related to one another. But, as Kant put it, while other beings are determined by law, human beings are determined by the idea of law, or at least are capable of being so determined. There are grounds, or at least general conditions, for all things that happen ; but human beings know, to some extent, what the grounds are. The knowledge of good and evil, in particular, becomes for them a guiding principle. It may be, as some have thought, that evolution is really guided towards the better that the elan vital, as Bergson calls it, is a struggle towards more and more perfect forms. But, if it is so, we may at least say with some confidence that most of the individuals that are concerned in this struggle are unaware of the principle by which they are guided. In this sense, they are not self- determined. If they are guided towards the better, at least they are not guided by any conscious choice of the better. Now, it is no doubt true that this is, to a large extent, the case with human beings also. They do not always very definitely choose the ends towards which they move ; and, even when they do choose, it is pretty obvious that their choice 300 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY is sometimes a wrong one. The important point, however, is that they can choose, and that they can, by taking thought, make their choice more and more nearly right. If the general view that we have taken of choice is correct, it depends on valuation ; and valuation, as we have seen, undergoes de- velopment. Hence the kind of choice that an individual makes is dependent on the stage at which he stands in the develop- ment of his valuations. Now, the attitude of conscious valuation is so essential an aspect of human life, that it is not unfairly regarded as constituting the true nature or self of an individual especially when his nature is being regarded from the point of view adopted in moral judgments upon character. What a man likes is a pretty good indication of what he essentially is ; but what he chooses, whether he likes it or not (on grounds, that is to say, which may be rather objective than subjective), gives a still more definite indication of what he is, at least at the particular moment when the choice is made. Whether this can rightly be regarded as his total or permanent self, is another question, which we shall have to consider in dealing with the problem of personality. In the meantime, it may suffice to state that, as human beings develop, the attitude of valuation at any particular time can hardly be taken as any final indication of the potentialities of the self. But it is an indication, so far as it goes ; and, so far as this is the case, the choice of the individual is a free expression of what he intrinsically is. The quality of valuation is not strained. It is not deter- mined by any principle more comprehensive than itself. It is in this sense that it seems to be rightly described as self- determined. But it is desirable, even at this point, to make some further reference to the element of growth that is involved in valuation, which prevents it from having any absolute finality at a particular time, and makes it difficult for us to say what a person, in his deepest essence, really is. 6. Lower and Higher Selves. The appeal from Philip drunk to Philip sober may be taken as typical of human judgments in general. 1 The point of view from which our 1 Freud's conception of a Censor is interesting in this connection. See, for instance, his book On Dreams, pp. 88-9. Also Morton Prince, The Unconscious, pp. 509-14. Plato's comparison of the unity of the individual life to a kingdom has a similar significance. The higher authority has a Veto on the lower. THE PROBLEM OF FREEDOM 301 valuations are made, is constantly liable to transformation ; and such a transformation is sometimes almost equivalent to a new birth. A thorough education may give rise to a quite new outlook on life ; so may a change from poverty to riches, or from riches to poverty ; so may a fresh discovery in science, or the sudden illumination of a new idea, or a new vision of beauty, or the influ- ence of a forceful personality, or a great national crisis. What, in religious language, is commonly referred to as conversion, is a striking illustration of such a change. Changes of this kind are sometimes so great that it is hardly an exaggeration to describe them as the creation of a new heaven and a new earth. The general structure of our world remains though our view even of that may be greatly modi- fied ; but at least our valuations may be almost completely altered. Now, the kind of change that may be thus effected on a large scale, is continually taking place in a smaller and more gradual way. The changes from childhood to youth, and from that to maturity and old age, even when no remark- able crisis occurs at any particular point, nearly always involve great transformations in our modes of valuation and choice. Even Wordsworth, who seems to have been specially anxious that his days should be " bound each to each," seems to have been a distinctly different person in his age from what he was in his youth. Thus the point of view of an individual self, though containing a certain element of persistence, can- not be regarded as a fixed standpoint. And what is specially important for our present purpose, is that the point of view may be a lower or a higher one. This depends clearly on the extent to which our valuations are in accordance with what is intrinsically good. They are probably never entirely so. To determine what is intrinsically best is extremely diffi- cult, but one may be more or less definitely on the way to it. Our choice may be less and less determined simply by individual liking, and more and more by the conception of what is objectively best. In a sense, no doubt, we may be said to be less purely self-determined as we advance to the higher standpoint. The sense of moral obligation, or even of aesthetic or scientific standards, may present itself to us as an external constraint. But the more fully we are able 302 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY to apprehend and appreciate such standards, the more do we recognize them as being implied in our less reflective valuations ; and so as not being in reality foreign to our- selves. The distinction between the more purely subjective and the more objective standards is, however, of so much importance, that some further consideration of it seems to be called for here. 7. The Subjectively Good and the Objectively Good. When Socrates said that " no man is willingly deprived of the Good," he stated what is in one sense a truism, in another a paradox. To choose is, no doubt, always to choose some- thing that appears to us relatively good ; but the point of view from which the estimation is made, may be a very inadequate one. The valuation that is involved in our choice, may be based simply on individual liking, or on a calculation of individual happiness ; or it may be founded on a definite attempt to consider what is best on the whole. What Socrates appears to have meant, was that any one with a complete insight into the true meaning of value would inevitably place himself at the latter point of view. This does appear to be the case. No one whose taste is highly cultivated continues to be satisfied with what is not really beautiful. No one with a genuine insight into the results of scientific investiga- tion continues to entertain opinions that are at variance with these results. And the same seems to be true with reference to moral valuations. But it may be said, with some con- fidence, that no human being has an infallible taste or perfect knowledge or a thorough insight into what is absolutely right ; and many are not even particularly eager in the pursuit of such perfection. Hence some, though they may be said to be " not willingly " deprived of the good, are nevertheless " willingly wicked," in the sense that they are not anxious to bring their subjective likings into harmony with what is best, or to subordinate the former to the latter. Even if they do recognize what is objectively best, and have some desire to secure it, they may fail to strive for it in any really effective way. In such a case, they would be generally described as rather " weak " than " wicked " ; but such weak- ness seems also to imply the absence of a sufficiently definite THE PROBLEM OF FREEDOM 303 adoption of the higher point of view. If we interpret will as meaning a thoroughly rational choice, the saying of Socrates may still be held to be true ; but on the right interpretation of this some further explanation may here be in place. 8. Rational Choice. A choice may, in a limited sense, be called rational when it is the selection of means definitely adapted to the realization of some particular end. A Sardanapalus (if he is rightly regarded as having been of such a type) may subordinate everything to his personal enjoy- ment, and yet be thoroughly rational in the choice of his means. But such an attitude could hardly be regarded as completely rational. Reason, as Sidgwick has urged, would lead him to see that the enjoyment of other rational beings, if not even of all beings, has the same claim to be taken as an ultimate end as his own has. Even to aim at the maximum sensuous enjoyment of all could hardly be com- pletely rational ; for, from a rational point of view, it would surely be clear that other things, besides sensuous enjoy- ment, have intrinsic worth. A thoroughly rational being could not, at least, be indifferent to the apprehension of truth, and hardly of beauty or perfect order. A completely rational choice must, it would seem, be the choice of right ends as well as right means. The point of view of reason is that of universality ; it is the point of view from which intrinsic value is apprehended ; and, as rational beings, we cannot be satisfied with less. What satisfies us, what we value, what appears to us to be in the fullest sense beautiful, when we look at it from this point of view (or, as Spinoza would say, sub specie (Eteniitatis), would seem to be the best way indeed the only way in which we can define what is ulti- mately good. This we may be in a better position to consider fully at a later stage. In the meantime, it seems clear at least that, if it is in such a way as this that we are to understand what is meant by a rational choice, all or almost all human choice must be, in some degree, irrational. We have always to assume that something is good, or the means to what is good, without being able to see with perfect clearness that it is so. But, from a human point of view, choice may fairly be characterized as rational when it is the 304 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY nearest that we can get to such a complete apprehension of what is best. Such a choice may at least be properly described as being subjectively right. And it seems clear that, in this sense, it cannot be maintained that every one chooses what is best, or even what seems to him to be best. Some are wicked, some are weak, and some err from defective vision. A recent writer, in a very interesting book, 1 has stated that " men are generally willing to do what is right not merely for themselves, but for their group or even for all humanity, but they do not know what it is right to do." It is prob- ably true that no one would, in the abstract, prefer what is wrong to what is right. No one would definitely say, like Milton's Satan, " Evil, be thou my good," or even, with Richard III, " I am determined to prove a villain." 2 But it is to be feared that there are many who are less eager to secure what is right than to secure what is pleasant, or who hunger and thirst for wealth or power rather than for righteousness or justice ; and perhaps a still larger number who are guided by instinct or impulse or by custom or tradition, rather than by any serious effort to discover what is best. It can hardly be denied that such people are, in varying degrees, " willingly wicked," or at least not very unwillingly. Indeed, it seems probable that this is to some extent true of us all. " Virtue," as Hamlet said, " cannot so inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of it." There always remains some distinction between what we value and what is intrinsically valuable. Even the saying that " we needs must love the highest when we see it," is probably true only in the sense that we could not really see it till we were prepared to love it. In this sense it seems to remain true that all moral failure is due to defective vision. 1 C. D. Burns, The Morality of Nations, p. 105. 2 It is perhaps worth noting that even Satan and the Duke of Gloucester are represc-nted as having tried methods that were at least a little better before their final plunge. Even the most disreputable criminals generally excuse their actions by referring to the conditions of their lot which have made a really good way of life almost hopeless. Sometimes they add that their actions arc not intrinsically worse than those of many others whose reputations are comparatively unsullied. Still, it remains true that they have not chosen as well as they might have done ; and that, by repeated failures in this respect, it has become more and more difficult to choose rightly. But there remains always a good deal of force in the old saying, " There, but for the grace of God, goes ," Certainly our scale of valuations is a delicate instrument, easily disturbed. THE PROBLEM OF FREEDOM 305 9. The Possibility of Prediction. It is sometimes urged that, if a man is free in his choice, his choice cannot be predicted. 1 Theoretically, this contention does not appear to be sound, without some qualification. One thoroughly rational being, it may be contended, could predict the action of another thoroughly rational being in any circumstances that were fully known. With beings who are not thoroughly rational, the case is of course somewhat 'different ; and there is at least one sense in which prediction, in such a case, is not even theoretically possible. When Laplace spoke of the possibility of calculating the future states of the universe, he appears to have ignored the emergence of qualitative differences. Only what is purely quantitative can be calcu- lated. If we suppose a state of the universe in which there was as yet no apprehension of sound or colour, no one in such circumstances could predict what sound or colour would be like. Similarly, in a universe without valuations, no one could predict what valuations would be made. And to predict the valuations of any particular person, it would be necessary, not merely to have a thorough apprehension of his present point of view and of the future circumstances in which he would be placed, but also of the way in which his valuations would be modified by the new conditions. Such a prediction does not appear to be even theoretically possible, except for omniscience. If, however, there is a definite causal order in which events occur, and a definite order in the evolution of human valuations, it would seem that it would be theoretic- ally possible for any one who thoroughly understood these orders to foretell the choice that would be made by any person at any time. But this is only to say that omniscience would be omniscient. And of course it rests on the supposi- tion that there is perfect order, and no real contingency. How far we are justified in making this supposition, we shall have to consider later. In any case, it seems clear that, for a being who is not omniscient, prediction is not possible. For such a being, every real choice takes place in a new situation ; and the being who chooses has himself been developing in the meantime. This has been very brilliantly brought out by M. Bergson, who, however, does 1 See, on this subject, Bradley's Ethical Studies, note to Essay I. 2O 306 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY not, I think, lay sufficient emphasis on the place of value in the determination of choice. He thus makes it appear as if it were largely blind. 1 10. The Relation of the Moral Judgment to Free Choice The interpretation that has now been put upon free choice may help us to see in what sense it is that moral judgments are concerned with it. The moral end, we may here assume, is the realization of what is intrinsically good. The right - ness of actions and the goodness of persons is ultimately estimated by their direction towards this end. It is generally recognized, however, that what is intrinsically good is not fully known either by the person who judges or by the person who is judged. Hence, on careful reflection, we tend to pass judgments rather with reference to the effort to secure what is best than to the actual securing of it, or even to the clear apprehension of what it is. If this is admitted, we are able to set aside certain paradoxes that have, from time to time, been current. The view of Socrates, in particular, that virtue is knowledge, can hardly be accepted, even when it is understood, as in any case it must be, to mean that virtue consists in the apprehension of what is intrinsically good. It seems clear, as Aristotle urged, that human virtue does not consist in its apprehension, but in its pursuit. This no doubt implies some degree of apprehension of it ; but it does not imply any thorough knowledge ; nor does it appear that its excellence is strictly in proportion to the clearness of its apprehension. Philosophers are not necessarily better than other people. Still more do we seem bound to reject the favourite doctrine of Carry le, that all intellectual excel- lence is based on moral excellence ; though this contention is, to some extent, instructive. A fool (unless he is only a " gooseberry fool," like Goldsmith) is perhaps always some- thing of a knave as well. His folly will generally include some lack of appreciation of the importance of right action. 1 Bergson's view of freedom has often been criticized on this ground. His doctrine is most fully given in Time and Free Will, especially chapters ii and iii. For discussions relating to it, reference may be made to Jevons's Personality, pp. 109-15, Russell's Our Knowledge of the External World, pp. 229-33, Pringle- Pattison's Idea of God, Lecture XIX ; as well as to several works dealing expressly with Bergson's philosophy. THE PROBLEM OF FREEDOM 307 A knave also is generally something of a fool. A sin is essentially a blunder ; and the man who blunders into sin is rather likely to blunder in other ways as well. But he may apprehend many important truths, and reason skilfully with regard to them, though he lacks the one thing that is needful for the moral life. What Carlyle meant was prob- ably that cleverness does not deserve any high esteem when it is not guided by an appreciation of ultimate values. And no doubt this is worth emphasizing. In judging the work of poets or statesmen, and especially in judging their personali- ties, we rightly place their appreciation of values, and the extent to which they are guided by such appreciation, in the highest place. But this would hardly be true of our judgment of the work of a mathematician, though even there a lack of appreciation of the value of truth might tend to weaken his work. Thus it would seem that there is some exaggeration in the view of Carlyle ; and there is a still more extreme exaggeration in the Stoical attribution of every kind of excellence to their Wise Man. Moral excellence seems to be one specific kind of excellence, though it is one that is rightly regarded as being of the highest importance in human life. It may be well to add, however, that we are rather apt to exaggerate the distinction between those qualities in human life that involve choice and those that do not. I think there is some exaggeration of this kind in the otherwise excellent treatment of Free Will by Dr. McTaggart. " A man," he contends, 1 " who gives water to a thirsty dog has willed rightly. If that man were Shakespeare, or Newton, or Kant, should we be prepared to say that that volition had more value than anything in his nature except some other volition? Surely most people would regard the intellect which was capable of producing Hamlet, or the Principia, or the three Critiques, as of greater value." But the man who gives water to a thirsty dog (if this is all that can be said of him) acts rightly only in the sense in which a man acts rightly when, in trying to find his way out of a wood, he happens to choose a path that takes him where he wants to go. There is certainly not much to value in such a volition. It 1 Some Dogmas of Religion, chapter v, 129. The whole chapter is very good. becomes good only when it is not only right, but known to be right, and chosen with the view of bringing about a good result. This involves intellectual insight, as well as volition. On the other hand, no intellect, simply as such, would be " capable of producing Hamlet," without the exer- cise of a very strenuous volition, guided by moral concep- tions. Apart from such a volition, it is not quite so obvious that the intellect would be very highly valued, or at least that its valuation would not depend on its being regarded as furnishing the means for a voluntary action. In this sense, as even Kant would allow, wealth, health, station, etc., may have very high value. I ought to add, however, that, even if this criticism is just, it does not invalidate the essential point in Dr. McTaggart's argument. It is sometimes suggested that we have no right to judge moral excellence in any other way than that in which other modes of excellence are judged. We have no right, it is contended, to blame people for deficiencies in their choice, any more than for any other kind of defect, such as colour- blindness, weakness of memory, lack of imagination, or slow- ness of perception. For, it is urged, though we may be said to be free in choosing, yet We do not really choose our choice. We choose in accordance with the point of view that we happen to occupy ; and this may be traced back to some influence of heredity or nurture. This may be partly met by urging that we do, to a certain extent, choose our mode of choosing. Our choice at a particular moment is largely conditioned by habits of choice that have been previously formed. 1 But it still remains true that these habits can be traced back to influences that were not wholly, or even mainly, dependent on our choice. The general answer to this seems to be that, from the point of view of the universe, it may very well be that no one has any ultimate responsibility for his choice. But the point of view of human judgments is not that of the universe. There may be a point of view that is, in this particular sense, " beyond Good and Evil " ; but for us at least the realization of what is good is that which is supremely important ; and, though 1 This point is very well brought out by Dr. G. E. Moore in his very lucid treatment of Free Will in chapter vi of his Ethics. THE PROBLEM OF FREEDOM 309 no one can completely realize it, or even be quite sure that he is on the right road, yet every one can, to the best of his ability, place himself in the attitude of pursuing it. When any one fails to do so, he is, from a human point of view, rightly blamed both by others and by himself ; for, as a .being potentially rational, he is not essentially limited by this kind of defect, and he may, by taking thought, gradually remove it. He cannot, in any similar way, add a cubit to his stature, or remedy his colour-blindness or defective memory or lack of special aptitudes in other directions. It is always open to every one to do his best ; and both self- criticism and the criticism of others are excellent incentives to this. Hence, even allowing that it may not be right to blame or to commend any one from the point of view of the universe, it seems clear that such an attitude can be thoroughly justified in human beings. No definite limits can be set to the possibility of choosing rightly ; and we may always strive after improvement in this respect, both in our- selves and in others. This, it may be objected, is only a practical justification ; but then it has reference to a practical thing. 1 1 1 . Causality and Freedom. The view of causation that has been previously set forth may now be brought into more definite connection with the problem of freedom. Hume rightly emphasized the fact that there is no real opposition between necessity and freedom. The difference lies merely in the different structures of the organizing principles that are involved. " A prisoner," as Hume says, 2 " who has neither money nor interest, discovers the impossibility of his escape, as well when he considers the obstinacy of the gaoler, as the walls and bars with which he is surrounded ; and, in all attempts for his freedom, chooses rather to work upon 1 The substance of this section is, I think, simply a repetition of the doctrine that is stated by Aristotle in Book III of his Ethics ; but it seemed necessary to reproduce it at this point in order to make clear the conception of free choice that is here adopted. For further discussion reference may be made to the statements already noticed, by Drs. McTaggart and Moore, to the more purely psychological treatment in Professor Stout's Manual, and to the summing up in Professor Mitchell's Structure and Growth of the Mind, pp. 407-17. 2 Inquiry concerning Human Understanding, viii. 3 io ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY the stone and iron of the one, than upon the inflexible nature of the other." " Were a man, whom I know to be honest and opulent, and with whom I lived in intimate friendship, to come into my house, where I am surrounded with my servants, I rest assured, that he is not to stab me before he leaves it, in order to rob me of my silver standish ; and I no more suspect this event than the falling of the house itself, which is new and solidly built and founded." " A man who at noon leaves his purse full of gold on the pave- ment at Charing Cross, may as well expect that it will fly away like a feather, as that he will find it untouched an hour after." Such illustrations, however, serve to bring out the difference as well as the identity. The prisoner would be much more surprised to find that the iron bars had sud- denly melted than that he had suddenly received a pardon. Hume himself would probably have been less surprised by a change in his friend's attitude than by one in his house's position. And, though it is pretty certain that the purse would not be untouched, there are different ways of touching it : it might be appropriated by the finder, or it might be returned to its owner. Human actions, which depend on valuations, are much less rigidly determined than physical events, which depend on more purely mechanical principles. But the difference is one of degree. There is a progressive advance in the flexibility of the modes of determination, and in the extent to which they can be explained from the inner working of the system, as we pass from the lower to the higher modes of unity. Hence, instead of speaking of an opposition between necessity and freedom, it seems better to recognize degrees of freedom in the operations of different modes of being. We may even add, with Hegel, that " the truth of necessity is freedom," in the sense that necessity means simply that each mode of being behaves in accord- ance with its own inherent structure. But that structure may be more or less self-contained and self-explanatory. 12. Freedom as an Ideal. It seems to follow from what has now been stated that it is better to regard freedom as an ideal that is aimed at in human life, and that is gradually realized in it, rather than as an actual possession. M. Bergson THE PROBLEM OF FREEDOM 311 has urged that it is only on comparatively rare occasions that we can properly be said to exercise freedom. 1 In general, our actions are habitual and comparatively mechanical. Even our valuations tend to be accepted, to a considerable extent, on trust and from tradition. We only become, in the fullest sense, free when we have a clear apprehension of what is best and determine our action by it. Nothing, it would seem, can be completely self-determined except what is also completely self-explanatory. Sidgwiclj: tried to empha- size the distinction between that kind of freedom which he described as " neutral " and that which he characterized as " good." He urged this distinction chiefly in his criticism of the doctrine of Kant, according to which it would appear that only " good " freedom is intelligible. 2 The freedom of the man who chooses wrong is limited by his lack of insight, or by the insufficient degree in which his insight has become the dominant principle in the control of his behaviour. As there appears to be always some degree of such limitation in human choice, we can only say that human beings are partly free and may hope to become more so. What prevents them from being wholly free is a defect in their nature which can be gradually removed. Hence the significance of moral educa- tion, and of all the efforts that are made throughout life to strengthen our vision of what is best and to co-ordinate it more closely with our modes of action. But the general significance of this may become clearer after we have con- sidered the nature of personality and the spiritual unity of mankind. 1 See Time and Free Will, pp. 167-70. He does not appear, however, to explain very clearly what the occasions are and how they arise. 2 It was with reference to " neutral " freedom that Kant maintained that we can only " comprehend its incomprehensibility." For Sidgwick's criticisms, see the appendix to the 6th edition of his Methods of Ethics ; also Ethics of Green, Spencer, and Martinean, Lecture II. CHAPTER X THE NATURE OF PERSONALITY i. The Development of Individuality. The consciousness of free choice gives to human beings a kind of individuality which is not possible to beings who lack that consciousness. This consciousness, however, is one that is only gradually developed. Hegel said that in early societies only one the supreme ruler was recognized as free ; and that gradually the recognition of freedom became extended to larger and larger numbers, until at last it is acknowledged that all human beings can lay claim to freedom. Human history is thus regarded as the process by which freedom is gradually acquired ; by which, that is to say, individuals learn by degrees that they are individuals beings who have a certain power and right to shape their own destinies. The recog- nition of this involves some breaking away from the simple consciousness of the group, and may very well lead even to a violent rupture with it. When man first realizes that he is born free, he realizes at the same time, as Rousseau expressed it, that he is everywhere in chains. There are times at which such a consciousness becomes specially acute. The time of the Sophists in ancient Greece was such a time ; that of the Reformation was a second ; and that of the French Revolution was a third ; and each of these move- ments had far-reaching consequences throughout many suc- ceeding generations. At such times the individual becomes keenly conscious of himself. He tends to withdraw, as far as possible, from the social order in which he has been living. He goes to his tub, like Diogenes ; or contents him- self with private friendship, like the Epicureans ; or doubts everything but his own existence, like Descartes ; or cultj- THE NATURE OF PERSONALITY 313 vates his garden, like the Voltairean hero ; or preaches the will to power, like Nietzsche ; or loafs and invites his soul, like Whitman. In some way or other, he seeks to live his own life, rather than the life of the herd. He feels himself to be a person, with a certain completeness and self-suffi- ciency of his own. It is probably true that it is usually in comparatively small communities, where the individual is not too much overwhelmed by the crowd, that this develop- ment of individuality takes place most readily. " Large, massive, social organisms," it has been said, 1 " produce, as a rule, very small persons. Great men are not to be found in ancient Egypt, Babylon, Assyria, Persia, but rather in the diminutive communities of ancient Greece and Judea." Even in our modern large democracies, it has often been noted that " the individual withers, and the world is more and more." But this is only partly true. It is in some respects easier to have a certain self-completeness in a large society than in a small one, when the conception of individual liberty has been well developed. It is this completeness of the individual life that we have now to consider. 2. The Continuity of the Individual Self. Descartes, as we have already noted, emphasized the substantiality of the individual thinking being, though allowing that its persistence requires a special act of conservation at each successive moment. Hume, on the other hand, denied that we have any consciousness of a permanent or self-identical element in our experience. Kant represented the individual self as having a certain persistence, but not such as to warrant the attribution to it of any permanent substantiality. This last view would seem to be the most 'correct. It is clear that some kind of persistence is involved in our conscious life. It is obviously not like a rope of sand, made up of isolated particles. Every moment in our conscious life is a transi- tion, a change ; and change, as Kant contended, implies persistence. Both the objects that we apprehend and our attitude towards them continue to be, in many respects, the same ; though both are almost constantly undergoing change, 1 Sidis, The Psychology of Suggestion, p. 299, 3H ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY Certain forms at least remain, as in the flowing of a river. 1 And this is true, not only of the stream of our conscious experience, but also of the organic structure to which that stream is closely related. It also changes ; but, for con- siderable periods of time, the changes are hardly perceptible. It is only after a long interval that it becomes difficult to detect the identity ; but certainly there are stages at which, both in our organic and in our conscious life, such a difficulty is liable to present itself. The child is not always, in any very definite way, the father of the man, either in bodily structure or in attitude of mind. 2 The grave senator, or anxious man of business, may be as complete a contrast to the light-hearted schoolboy in his valuations and modes of apperception as in his bodily appearance and habits. Some- thing he does carry on with him from his past experience some memories, probably some regrets and some self- criticism, and a certain summing up of die general results of what he has learned ; but, in many cases, if he could be transported back to a definite apprehension of his former existence, he might have a considerable difficulty in recog- nizing it as his own. He is not perhaps as widely different as the butterfly is from the caterpillar, yet it is not easy to regard him as being quite the same person. Even those who dwell with most interest on their past, like Rousseau, are apt to call up the external circumstances, the things and persons that they have known, with more distinctness than 1 Compare the last of the series of Wordsworth's sonnets on the River Duddon: Still glides the stream, and shall forever glide. The form remains ; the function never dies, etc. 2 Mr. Roosevelt (who surely is not lacking in individuality) suggests in his Autobiography that the saying of Wordsworth should be interpreted rather more literally than is commonly done in the sense, namely, that the child is an ancestor of the man, rather than the same person. It may be noted that Wordsworth himself, in describing his early life in the Prelude, indicates a similar sense of the absence of complete identity. "So wide," he says, "appears The vacancy between me and those days Which yet have such self-presence in my mind, That, musing on them, often do I seem Two consciousnesses, conscious of myself And of some other being." In the Lines aborc Tinlcrn Abbey there is a somewhat similar expression of divorce from self. THE NATURE OF PERSONALITY 315 what they themselves were. Most people's interest in them- selves is rather forward-looking than backward-looking, though no doubt this tends to become less true as life advances. Still, except in some extremely morbid cases, every one does, in some degree, regard his own life as a continuous whole, and is prepared to recognize in the lives of other persons sometimes rather more readily in the lives of others than in his own a similar continuity. Such a continuity may no doubt be ascribed also to rivers or moun- tains or to plants and animals ; but 'what gives it special significance in human beings, is that it is not a mere per- sistence of objects, but of attitudes, and especially of attitudes in which conscious valuations are present. So important is this felt to be that, even when we ascribe persistence to inanimate things, we tend, in some degree, to personify them. What gives special interest to a person is the fact that he has persistent modes of choice in other words, that he has or is a character. " A man's Ego," as Royce urges, 1 " exists as one Ego, only in so far as he has a plan in life, a coherent and conscious ideal, and in so far as his experience means for him the approach to this ideal. Whoever has not yet conceived of such an ideal is no one Ego at all, whether you view him empirically or metaphysically, but is a series of chance empirical selves, more or less accidentally bound together by the processes of memory. . . . The empirical ego, apart from the unity of life-plan, can be as truly called a thousand selves, as one Self." Of course these many selves are bound together, not only by the processes of memory, but also by the continuity of the physical organism. 2 3. Individual Character. The interest in individual character has developed slowly, growing along with the 1 The Conception of God, pp. 291-2. 2 In some cases of " multiple personality," however, we have two different attitudes of consciousness connected with the same organism, with little or no continuity of memory between the two. For examples of these, reference may be made to Multiple Personality by Sidis and Goodhart, The Dissociation of a Per- sonality, by Morton Prince. Binet's Alterations of Personality, Diseases of Personality (especially chapter iv) by Ribot, and others. Some interesting illustrations of changes of personality are given by Count Keyserling in his book on Unsterbliclikeit, chapter iv. Ribot's account of the relations between the personalities of twins (especially pp. 43-4, 49-50) is interesting. 3i6 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY recognition of individual freedom. " A character," c.ccord- ing to the famous saying of Novalis, "is a completely fashioned will " ; that is, it is not merely an attitude of choice, but an attitude that has a certain persistence, a mode of affective and practical apperception. If we contrast ancient and modern literatures, it becomes pretty obvious that the interest in individuals is immensely greater in the latter than in the former. In Jewish history, for example, the characters of the individuals are strictly subordinated to the destiny of the race. The comparative coldness of classical art seems to be due largely to the fact that its characters are rather types than individuals. Even Plutarch's Lives were arranged as types, somewhat like the Characters of Theophrastus. It was probably not altogether by accident that the English drama of individuality, of " every man in his humour," was developed so soon after the individualistic movement of the Reformation, and that the modern novel took shape in the age of Rousseau. His Confessions, or the pageant of Byron's bleeding heart, or the meticulous probing of the heart of the individual in the writings of Henry James, would hardly have been possible in an earlier age, though no doubt some partial anticipations of them may be found (but nearly always at times when there was some general tendency for individuals to break away from the bondage of their social environment). 4. Individual Self -assertion. The consciousness of indi- viduality, which may be said to grow out of the conscious- ness of freedom, tends to give a fresh emphasis to the latter. The individual, who is aware of himself and others as persistent persons, is not merely conscious of the fact of free choice, but tends to emphasize the right to exercise it freely. He is apt to become a lover of paradox, and to seek to display his originality in various unusual modes of action. He may even dislike to be too consistent, lest he should seem to be bound by an external rule. But such eccentricities tend to be somewhat restrained by the recognition of the personali- ties of others. The conception of liberty is checked by that of equality ; but both are apt to oppose themselves to the rule of custom. The conception of laws based on the general THE NATURE OF PERSONALITY 317 will, and recognizing rights in every human being, tends to be substituted for the traditions of the group. 5. The Value of the Individual. Individuals, who recog- nize themselves as centres of valuation, are naturally led to attach a peculiar value to themselves. Other things have value for them, but they have value for themselves and for one another. This was specially emphasized by Kant, in his conception of a kingdom of ends. Each individual, he contended, has to regard himself .at once as a lawgiver i.e. as an ultimate authority on what has supreme value and as subject to the law which he himself sets up. Hence he can never regard himself as merely a means to an end that is foreign to himself. The end that he pursues is essentially his own end, a good that he himself recognizes as such. It would seem, however, that this contention has to be qualified by what has been already urged with regard to the lower and the higher self. The self that is law- giver is the self that apprehends what is ultimately good ; and, as we have seen, this point of view is always for us an aspiration rather than an achievement. Still, the fact that this aspiration is involved in the consciousness of every rational being, and that it is only for such a consciousness that any apprehension of what is ultimately good appears to be conceivable, does enable every such individual to think of himself as an ultimate arbiter of good and evil, and so as a standard of value rather than merely one of the par- ticular things that are valued. The higher religions notably Christianity and Buddhism have laid stress on this. " What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul?" "The Son of Man shall judge the quick and the dead." For the Buddhist also it would seem that the highest end is thought of as a personal attitude. It is doubtful, however, whether such an end can be properly described as purely individual. This will have to be more fully considered shortly. In the meantime, it must suffice to note here that the fact that every rational individual can, and even must, regard himself as being on the way to such a point of view, prevents him from thinking of himself as merely a means to something that has a value wholly apart 3i8 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY from himself. On the other hand, he has also to recognize that he is only on the way to the point of view from which absolute value can be apprehended, and that consequently, as this particular individual, he cannot properly claim to be either an absolute standard or an absolute end. 6. The Self and its Embodiment. We have to recognize further, that the individual, as we know him and as he knows himself, is not a pure spirit, but an embodied personality ; and it is hardly possible for him to treat his existence, as such a personality, as a thing that possesses any absolute worth. Bagehot said that " we are souls in the disguise of animals " ; but sometimes the disguise is a pretty complete one. Some degree of self-sacrifice is inevitably called for in such an existence ; and such sacrifice, when voluntarily endured for the sake of something that has great value, has always been regarded as one of the finest expressions of human personality. It is recognized that there are conditions in which he who loses his life saves what is best in it. Indeed, the very development of an individual's life is a continual losing of what he was for the sake of what he hopes to be. But, so long as he retains any recognizable individuality, the development is one that goes on in a con- tinuous stream of conscious experience, and in constant con- nection with an organism that has a similar continuity. Whether the stream of consciousness could be separated from the continuous life of the organism, without loss of individuality, is not easy to determine. Transmigrations of souls from one organism to another were a favourite subject of speculation in several schools of ancient thought ; and there has been a marked tendency to revive such specula- tions in recent times. This is at least partly due to the decay of purely materialistic interpretations of human existence. It is more and more recognized that the activity of consciousness cannot be regarded simply as a function of the brain, or its content as being something that is stored up in that organ. How subconsciousness is to be interpreted, is still an unsolved problem ; but at least that solution does not appear to be a tenable one. Even when this is granted, however, the connection of a particular THE NATURE OF PERSONALITY 319 stream of conscious experience with the continuous existence of a particular organism is still too intimate to make it easily intelligible that the one could be separated from the other without the loss of a large part of what constitutes the essence of individual personality. The bodily organism is at least the mechanism with which we have learned to work. As already noted, we have taken over in our conscious life a large part of its unconscious preferences ; and our more definitely conscious valuations are to a considerable extent conditioned by these. 1 Again, our thought processes can hardly be carried on without the instrumentality of language ; and, whether words are spoken, written, or conveyed by gestures, whether they are apprehended by sight, hearing, touch, or motor sensations, they are in any case known to us in some way that is conditioned throughout by our bodily structure. Our general habits of action are similarly con- ditioned : there appears to be no mode of behaviour that does not involve bodily movement. Hence the whole personality of a conscious being, as we know it, is intimately bound up with its organic existence. Even so extreme a dualist as Descartes had to admit that in a human being soul and body seem to form an indissoluble unity. Thus the conception of the transference of a soul from one body to another presents great difficulty. It would not carry with it the instruments in connection with which its personality has been developed, and through which it has been expressed. If the souls and bodies of Falstaff and Don Quixote could be interchanged, could either of them be supposed still to exist as the same person that he was before? No doubt, such a sudden transformation would hardly be contemplated by those who think of transmigrations ; but, in a less degree, it would seem that any transference would involve the same kind of difficulty. However carefully the soul might select its new abode, it would have so much to learn and so much to unlearn that it could hardly be regarded as being, in any 1 The extent to which this is the case has been much emphasized by recent psychologists and sociologists. See, for instance, Dr. McDougall's Social Psychology, the chapter on Instinct in James's Principles of Psychology, Professor Graham Wallas's Human Nature in Politics, Mr. Russell's Principles oj Social Reconstruction, chapter i, etc. 320 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY effective sense, the same person. It may be urged that at least gradual transformations do take place in the course of our ordinary experience. Even Falstaff had not always the big belly round which so much of his personality turned. He is represented as having had a very different configura- tion in his early life. Again, many are deprived of the use of particular organs by accident or decay ; and yet we still think of them as the same persons. Milton, with " wisdom by one entrance quite shut out," was still the same Milton as before. But can we always recognize the persistence of a personality under such conditions? .When the change is of a more extreme kind, as in senile decay or when the brain has been so injured as to give rise to insanity, can we properly say that the person remains the same? Some traces of his previous experiences and attitudes of mind do, no doubt, persist ; but, in some extreme cases at least, every- thing that constituted the essential character of the person seems to have completely vanished. He is only like a bad actor mimicking an unreal person whom he does not under- stand, and whose part he only vaguely remembers. Even if all the men and women are merely players, we can, at any rate, think of them as persons only when the parts that they play have a certain inner coherence, the significance of which is more or less clearly apprehended by the player. If an infant is only a person in potentiality, 1 it would seem that a madman, a dotard, or a gibbering ghost could only be re- garded as the pathetic ruins of what was once a person ; and that a changeling would have to be thought of as, to all intents, a new person, though he might inherit (as perhaps we all do) some elements of the experience of another who existed before. However little we may incline to materialism, the divorce of soul and body can with difficulty be con- ceived as other than the destruction of the particular individuality that existed in their association. 7. Embodiment in Extra-organic Objects. Nor is it only the bodily life that is thus intimately associated with a 1 Stirner remarks that the boy tends to think that he will only be properly a person when he becomes a man ; and that the man tends sometimes to think that he will only be properly a person in a future life (The Ego and his Own, p. 295). So far as this is true, it carries the suggestion that, in each case, he recognizes that he is to become a somewhat different person from what he now is. THE NATURE OF PERSONALITY 321 particular personality. The continuity of our conscious life grows up, not only in connection with the mechanism of our bodies, but also with all those things with; which we habitually work, with the objects in which we are interested, the persons to whom we are related, the material and the spiritual atmospheres that we have learned to breathe. 1 All of these may, no doubt, be gradually changed without destroying or seriously disturbing the continuity of our existence. We may change our profession, alter our habits, form new friendships and forget the old ones, interest ourselves in new ideas, transfer our habitation, our allegiance, and our language from one country to another, and still be conscious that we have not ceased to be the same persons as before. But, if all these changes took place at once, it would be almost as difficult to acknowledge our identity as if we had passed from one body to another. The severance of husband from wife, of a citizen from his country, even of an artist from his voca- tion, is sometimes felt to be almost as complete an extinguish- ment of life as the separation of soul and body. The body, remains, and some sporadic memories and valuations may also linger ; but the general meaning of the individual's existence seems to have almost totally disappeared. He has nothing left to live for ; and sometimes he declines to live, or is unable to live, on such terms. 2 8. Personal Immortality. Notwithstanding such con- siderations, which have always been more or less obvious, the conception of personal immortality has nearly always had a considerable hold on the human race ; and it would seem that, in recent times, its hold has been in some respects rather strengthened than weakened. The difficulties at least those particular difficulties have sometimes been avoided, by 1 " In its widest possible sense," says William James (Principles of Psychology, vol. i, p. 291), "a man's Self is the sum total of all that we can call his, not only his body and his psychic powers, but his clothes and his house, his wife and children, his ancestors and friends, his reputation and works, his land and horses, and yacht, and bank account." Of course, these different elements in a man's personality are not all equally important ; just as all organs in a living body are not equally vital. 2 It is perhaps hardly necessary to give a reference for this ; but the Odyssey might be mentioned as a work in which this attitude of mind is specially prominent. Even the dog of Ulysses seems to participate in the prevailing sentiment. 21 322 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY thinking of it as involving a resurrection of the body, as well as a continuity of the soul. People have imagined them- selves as rejoining their friends sometimes even their animal friends in another state of being, better and more perma- nent than that which is lived on earth, but not in other respects intrinsically different ; as rinding themselves in a happy hunting-ground or in a beautiful city, where men and women would still be substantially the same men and women whom we know. Probably there are hardly any educated people who now retain such conceptions, though the recent book by Sir Oliver Lodge has tended to revive them. What is known of the growth and decay of organisms has made it almost inconceivable that they should be reconstructed in such a fashion. The view of immortality that appears now to be most in favour is that of reincarnation. Among recent philosophical writers, its chief exponent is Dr. McTaggart, 1 and perhaps its best critic is Dr. Bosanquet. 2 Dr. McTaggart bases his belief on the substantiality of the individual soul a doctrine that it is not easy to maintain, in view of the objections that have already been noted. In any case, if this substantiality means simply the persistence of some entity with which our conscious life is connected, it does not appear that such persistence could be regarded as sufficing to con- stitute personal immortality, any more than the persistence of a house in which we might happen to have lived. .What seems to constitute our specific individuality as persons is the compact system of our conscious possessions, and especially our valuations. These may, no doubt, be in abeyance for a time as they are in profound sleep, or in our ordinary dream experiences, or even throughout considerable tracts of our waking life without any loss of personal identity ; but only on condition that they are recoverable. Now, it is certainly conceivable that a person might pass through a series of successive incarnations, in which the consciousness of his previous existences remained latent ; and might at 1 Studies in Hegelian Cosmology, chapter ii, and Dogmas of Religion, chapter iii. The emphasis on substance is to be found chiefly in the Studies, p. 37, and in the Dogmas, p. 129. See also Ward's Realm of Ends, pp. 387-408. 3 The Value and Destiny of the Individual, Lecture IX. See also Bradley's Appearance and Reality, chapter xxvi, Essays on Truth and Reality, pp. 439-40, 451-9, 467, etc., and Guyau's Non-Religion of the Future, p. 522, etc. THE NATURE OF PERSONALITY 323 last reach a stage in which his successive experiences would appear as a continuous development. In a small way, some- thing of the kind does happen in our everyday existence. We pass, for instance, from one set of interests to another ; and, while we are absorbed in the second, we may be quite oblivious of the first. Sometimes the change may be almost as great as that from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde. 1 Yet we may return again to the previous interest, and bring it into connection with that by which it was interrupted ; and, in the end, we may realize that there has been no essential change in our personal attitude, but only that our conscious- ness has been enlarged and enriched by the double set of experiences. To suppose that our personal existence may be prolonged throughout a number of successive lives, in some such way as this, has undoubtedly a certain fascina- tion ; and, as it allows for breaches of continuity at the points at which the transition is made from one embodiment to another, it does not appear to be open to those objections that have been so far brought forward. It is felt that a view of this kind serves to remove the sense of incomplete- ness and frustration that we so constantly experience in the contemplation of the lives of those in whom we are interested. Even one whose life was so comprehensive as that of Goethe had, up to the end, a keen sense of the need for further expansion ; and Kant urged that a continuous personal de- velopment is a necessary postulate for the realization of that perfection which is a demand of man's rational nature. Against such a contention, however, it may be urged that to think of such a perfect realization of the demands of our nature is to think ultimately of the removal of those limitations that serve to distinguish one personality from another. To recur to a previous instance, a perfectly good Falstaff or a perfectly wise Don Quixote would hardly be Falstaff or Don Quixote any longer. Hence some have tried to think of immortality rather as the gradual approximation to a condition that is essentially super-personal. This leads us to another conception that calls for some consideration. 1 Mr. Morton Prince refers to the case of William Sharp with his own normal personality and that of "Fiona Macleod" as an illustration of this (The Unconscious, pp. 296-9). 324 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY The general subject of immortality will have to be further dealt with in succeeding chapters. 1 9. The Conception of the Super -personal. Can we attach any definite meaning to the conception of a mode of existence that is super-personal? The term " Superman " has been a good deal used in recent times ; and certainly it is possible to think of beings to whom such a term is not wholly in- applicable. Some men seem to be so deficient in any fixed and distinctive character that they are hardly to be described as persons at all. Others have characters so richly developed that we tend to think of them rather as types of humanity at its highest than as particular individuals. Even such a man as Napoleon, as we have already noted, spoke of himself as being " not a person, but a thing " and others also, observing his career, might very well think of him almost as if he were one of the forces of nature, rather than a particular individuality. In more primitive times, such men were apt to be deified. They are thought of as being, at least in certain respects, free from the limitations by which ordinary humanity is characterized. A better example than Napoleon would be such a man as Shakespeare, whose life as a particular individual seems hardly to count for any- thing, and who yet in his art seemed to be able to place himself at the point of view of almost every one else, so as to comprehend their individual attitudes in his own. Still more emphatically, the founders of the great religions the Buddha and the Christ have tended to be thought of as standing above humanity, and representing rather the per- fection at which it aims than a special form of individuality. The latter in particular, according to some accounts of his teaching, seems to have thought of a kind of unity in which many persons should be included. The conception of God as a Trinity points to the possibility of thinking of a being who is not merely one particular person ; and some recent conceptions of the Absolute notably that of Dr. McTaggart seem to be of a similar character. A less striking instance, but one that is perhaps deserving of consideration, is to be found in the way in which Plato seems to have contrived 1 See especially the summing up in the Note at the end of Book II, Chapter II. THE NATURE OF PERSONALITY 325 to mix up the personality of Socrates with' his own, so that it is difficult to disentangle them. But the subject that is thus opened up can only be satisfactorily dealt with by considering what is to be understood by a spiritual unity the conception that is to be discussed in the following chapter. 10. The Personal Significance of Education. In the meantime, it may be well to note at this point that the con- ception of personality leads to a view of education somewhat different from that to which we previously had occasion to refer. It is the view that is specially connected with what appears to have been the original meaning of the term, as the drawing out or unfolding of the potentialities that are contained or implied in the individual consciousness. This was the view of education that was more particularly empha- sized by Socrates and, at a later time, by Rousseau ; and it lies at the basis of the doctrines of many recent theorists and educational reformers. Education, from this point of view, is a natural growth, which can only be very partially assisted by external cultivation ; and the education of the individual, in this sense, may be regarded as going on throughout the whole of his life. Goethe thought of his self -culture in some such way as this. He was seeking, as he put it, to " raise the pyramid of his being as high as possible." It seems to have been in a similar sense that Keats spoke of the world as " the vale of soul-making." ! The conception of reincarnation would of course give an enlarged meaning to this conception of education. It would be thought of as being carried on throughout a succession of lives, in each one of which the results of the one that went before would be at least implicit, and would be gradually brought to a fuller fruition. This also is a conception to which we may have occasion to return at a later point. 2 ' See Mr. A. C. Bradley's Oxford Lectures on Poetry, p. 222, where the following is quoted from one of Keats' letters : " Do you not see how necessary a world of pain and trouble is to school an intelligence and make it a soul ? ... As various as the lives of men are, so various become their souls, and thus does God make individual beings, sparks of his own essence." The chapter on education in Mr. Russell's Principles of Social Reconstruction may also be referred to, as laying special emphasis on the development of individuality. See also Bosanquet's Value and Destiny, pp. 63-4, and Pringle-Pattison's Idea of God, p. 29. 2 Especially in Book III, Chapters II and IV. CHAPTER XI SPIRITUAL UNITY I. Universality of the Self. We. have seen that there is a sense in which the ultimate human point of view may be characterized as super-personal. The significance of this has now to be more definitely considered. It is generally recog- nized that a nation, and still more humanity as a whole, cannot be regarded as simply a collection of individuals. Nor does it seem to be enough to say that they are individuals with the apprehension of a group superadded. Gregarious animals might be not unfairly described in this way. Their gregarious instincts may be regarded as simply an addition to those instincts that are concerned with the maintenance of their individual lives. But in human life at least the consciousness of a larger unity is too fundamental to be treated in this way. If there is any one in human 'form whose chief interest is in the preservation and assertion of his own individuality, it would, at any rate, be almost universally felt that such a person is essentially inhuman. The more typically human a man is, the more does his attitude cease to be a purely individual one. This is seen even in those prominent personalities who are often thought of as being specially self-assertive. Napoleon among men of action, Byron among men of letters, Fichte among philosophers, might be taken as representing a certain emphasis on the ego, at a time when the unsettled state of society in Europe made indi- vidualism specially prominent. Yet it is very evident that none of these can be fairly regarded as individualistic. They all represent points of view that are readily adopted by many others, and that have a distinctly social significance. Napoleon may have been actuated by personal ambition ; but it is certainly to a large extent true, that he was working 326 SPIRITUAL UNITY 327 for the ideas of the French Revolution, for the liberation of mankind from despotism and the establishment of social justice. As has been already noted, he regarded himself as an instrument for this purpose, rather than as a private indi- vidual. 1 The egoism of Fichte became the basis for a new theory of the State. That of Byron became a sentiment of human liberty by which almost the whole educated human race was affected, and which tends to provide a fresh bond of union among them. Something similar would be true of Alexander, of Nietzsche, and of Hobbes, who might perhaps be better representatives of individual self-assertion than those previously referred to. The attitudes of all such conspicuous personalities are typical of human aims in general, and are dependent on the larger movements of history. The Hero, in Carlyle's language, is never one who fights for his own hand, but one who has a better grasp than others of some principles that have a general significance for human life. His strength lies in his universality ; what is specially indi- vidual in him is the source of his weakness. And, if this is true even of those whose individual personality stands out conspicuously in a somewhat self-assertive way, it is still more emphatically true of others who are not less notable as individuals, but in whom the aspect of self-assertion is more definitely absent. If Byron represents something that is not simply individual, what is to be said of Homer or Shakespeare men so little self-assertive as individuals, that their very existence has been questioned? If Fichte was not simply an individual, what shall we say of Plato, who veiled his own personality behind that of others, or of Pythagoras, whose specific doctrines were merged in those of his school or brotherhood? If Napoleon was more than a person, what of the Buddha or the Christ? It would appear, from such instances, that the more powerful a man's individuality is, the less is he simply a person ; the more does he become a type of humanity in general. And the reason of this seems clear enough. It is of the very essence of the human consciousness to be universal in its outlook. Our ordinary consciousness is, indeed, largely concerned with particular things and events, cut off to a considerable extent from the whole to which 1 How far he was sincere in this, may no doubt be open to question. 328 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY they belong. But the reflective mind cannot rest in such an attitude. The development of our consciousness carries us away, by degrees, from such particular objects to the apprehension of the general laws by which they are related to one another, and to the universals of which they are instances. The point of view that is thus reached is not one that is peculiar to any individual, but common to all who are capable of attaining it. The highest good for human beings seems to be necessarily thought of, as Spinoza urged, as one that is common to all and that all may equally enjoy. And it would seem that every human being is essentially aiming at this highest good, and cannot conceive himself as fully reaching it without the participation of all others. This is pretty fully recognized in the higher forms of religion. The Christ, in particular, proclaims a universal kingdom. In poetry also, the almost universal sympathy of Shakespeare is generally felt to be his chief title to supremacy. It is in this sense that we may accept the dictum of Comte, that the individual is an abstraction ; and that humanity as a whole is the only complete reality. From this point of view, the social unity acquires a deeper significance than that which belongs to it when it is merely regarded as the unity of a herd, a group, or a nation. 1 2. Love. Love is perhaps the best term that we can use to express the kind of unity that binds persons together in a larger whole love or the sense of brotherhood. It is true that we may speak of love as existing below the human 1 In connection with this, the statement of Professor Pringle-Pattison (Hegcliaiiisw and Personality, p. 216) may be noticed. "Each self," he says, "is a unique existence, which is perfectly impervious, if I may so speak, to other selves impervious in a fashion of which the impenetrability of matter is a faint analogue. The self, accordingly, resists invasion ; in its character of self it refuses to admit another self within itself." The self here spoken of would seem to be the self of an egoist or purely private individual. No doubt it is true that " the heart knoweth its own bitterness" ; and there is such a thing as "impenetrable atomic subjectivity" (a phrase of Hegel's) ; but, on the whole, the things that we cannot share with others are things that we are somewhat ashamed to share with ourselves. For some further discussion of this subject, reference may be made to the book on Personality by Dr. F. B. Jevons (especially pp. 135-57). Professor Pringle-P.illison's more recent work on The Idea of God may also be referred to, in which some of his earlier statements have been greatly toned down. See especially Lectures XIV, XV, and XX, and more particularly the Note on p. 389. SPIRITUAL UNITY 329 level ; and even in human life the term is sometimes applied to modes of relation that are not of the kind here in view. Various forms of affection notably maternal affection seem to be almost universal in the animal world. But a relation between persons, as persons, has a somewhat different character. Aristotle distinguished three main types of friend- ship or love ; and it is possible that an even larger number might properly be recognized. But the most definitely human form of it is that in which one person apprehends another as an absolute end, an ultimate standard of valuations, in the same sense in which he apprehends himself as such. This seems to be what is implied in loving one's neighbour as oneself. Human beings seldom quite adopt this attitude towards their neighbours in general ; but it is at least more often approximated to in the relations between two or a small number of individuals. It has sometimes been said that such a relationship may be described as " selfishness for two," or for some larger number ; and it is no doubt occasionally true that the attachment between the members of a family or other social groups has this somewhat negative and exclusive aspect. But, in general, it is probably truer to say that one who has learned to appreciate another as an end similar to himself, an equally authoritative source of valuations, is well on the way to recognize all others as having the right to be so regarded. It seems to be the chief glory of Christianity to have brought out this aspect of human life with a power never previously known. It has not always been very prominent among the upholders of that religion, who, as Swift said, have sometimes only had enough religion to make them hate, not enough to make them love one another ; but the festival of Christmas has at least been adopted as a lasting symbol of this attitude ; and it lies at the basis of the modern conception of Democracy, which is thus distinguished from the type of Democracy that was criticized by Plato. Plato thought of Democracy as based on the ideas of Liberty and Equality ; whereas most of its modern supporters would rest it rather on that of Fraternity. Now, it may be urged that what is chiefly emphasized in such conceptions is the intrinsic value of persons ; but the recognition of a brotherhood of persons 330 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY seems to point to a kind of unity that may fairly be called super-personal. The conceptions of Liberty and Equality may be said to represent the purely individual aspects of human life : that of Fraternity leads us to recognize that individuals have an intrinsic unity as persons. " Individuality," as Dr. Bosanquet has very finely expressed it, 1 " the principle of reality and the consistent whole, takes us on beyond personality in the strict sense, beyond the consciousness of self which is mediated by an opposing not-self, into the region where we go out of the self and into it by the same movement, in the quasi-religion of social unity, in knowledge, art, and in religion proper. And in all these experiences, as the repellent self -consciousness diminishes, and the sense of unity with the world and with man becomes pre-eminent in all these individuality is strengthened, and the self, though less in opposition to a not-self, is more itself, and is more at home. And when freedom and spontaneity reach their climax in religion the self no longer insists on its exclusive claim, and the whole being goes out together into the service which is perfect freedom." Of course, it seems clear that the super- personal in this sense includes the personal. This also seems to be represented in Christianity by the conception of the Divine as including three Persons. 2 With this may be com- pared Dr. McTaggart's conception of the Absolute, as con- sisting of a number of immortal persons, bound together by love .3 3. Human Ideals. Human beings may try to satisfy themselves for a time with a good that is purely individual, or limited to a few with whom they are specially connected ; but, as rational beings, they cannot in the end be content with this. Reason constantly holds up before us the con- ception of universality ; and this becomes for us a conscience, forbidding us to be satisfied with anything that is not common to humanity, or, as Walt Whitman put it, with anything for which others do not have the equivalent. The conception of Fraternity is inseparable from rationality ; and the con- 1 Principle of Individuality anil Value, pp. 270-1. 3 For an interpretation of this, see the X<>k- at the end of Book III. 3 Stuilifs in Hegelian Cosmology, chapter ix. SPIRITUAL UNITY 331 ception of Fraternity leads to the demand that all should have the utmost Liberty that is attainable, and that Equality of conditions and opportunities should be, as far as possible, secured. Reason leads us to see, further, that the goods that it is specially important to secure for all mankind are those that have intrinsic value Truth, Beauty, and Goodness. These aims are personal, in the sense that they have to be con- sciously realized ; but they are super-personal, in the sense that they are thought of as belonging to a community of persons, rather than to separate individuals. Truth, for instance, in any complete sense of the term, can hardly be attained by any one human being. The torch is passed from hand to hand, and by degrees there is an illumination in which all can participate. Things of beauty are " a joy for ever," and are gradually made accessible to a larger and larger number. Goodness is cultivated by suitable education, and the opportunities for its exercise are made more and more abundant by improvements in social con- ditions. The ideals that are thus set before us are ideals for man, rather than for men ; but to say that they are for man is to say that they are continuously to be made accessible to all men. This conception of a developing humanity, if taken by itself, represents in the main the point of view of Positivism. Mankind is, from this point of view, thought of as a single whole, pressing forward to the realiza- tion of his supreme good, through the gradual control of surrounding conditions, which he conquers by understanding them. Nouc learns by degrees to steer the course of the objects with which it has to deal ; so that man becomes, as it were, the god of the world in which he lives. Glory to Man in the highest ! for Man is the master of things. Unhappily, however, reflection seems to show that man is not altogether the master of things ; nor is it easy to see any definite prospect of his becoming so. At any rate, the thought of an ultimate good as something, in Aristotle's phrase, that can be done and achieved by man, seems to postulate a general conception of the universe that we inhabit as presenting conditions that arc more or less amenable to the control of human choice. This will have to be more 332 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY fully considered in the next chapter ; but in the meantime, some points bearing upon it may be noticed here. 4. The Conception of the Superhuman. The thought of a spiritual unity seems to carry us inevitably beyond what is purely human. The struggle to achieve the human good would be a futile one if it were perpetually thwarted by the conditions of the universe in which human life is carried on ; and it would not be a very hopeful one if it were not, in some degree, helped by these conditions. The possibility of attaining truth, for instance, seems to presuppose that the universe that we inhabit is one that is essentially intel- ligible. If it is a chaos, the end that we seek may be expected for ever to elude us. Any truth that we could hope to reach would, in that case, be only truth in the pragmatic sense i.e. beliefs that serve our practical purposes for the time. The causal order, for instance, would have to be interpreted, as it was by Hume, not as a definitely objec- tive condition of our universe, but as essentially signifying merely a habit that we form, as the brutes do, of expecting a certain regularity, which, within certain limits, turns out to be justified by results. Similarly, the effort after the realization of what is beautiful would be a futile one if the universe that we inhabit did not lend itself to the production and preservation of beautiful objects. Beauty would, in that case, have to be regarded as little more than a subjective aspiration. Goodness, being more purely a human attitude, might be thought to be less dependent on the structure of our universe. But if goodness is rightly regarded as con- sisting essentially in the love or choice of what is true and beautiful, its value would seem to be dependent on the reality of these. If there is any truth in Browning's summary O world as God has made it ! All is beauty ; And knowing this is love ; and love is duty, it would seem that, if we could not " know this," duty would be foolishness. Thus it appears, on the whole, that to recog- nize a reality in the spiritual unity of mankind is also to recognize that the universe in which we live is essentially a spiritual whole ; or at least a whole that is somehow in SPIRITUAL UNITY 333 harmony with our spiritual demands. We can hardly have a real love of humanity without some appreciation of the con- ditions in which human life is carried on. If we do not love nature, as well as man, a large part of human life must seem unlovable, and the remainder must appear to be some- what futile. Hence the conception of a spiritual unity of mankind leads us almost inevitably to a religious conception of the universe, and not merely to a religion of humanity. The consideration of this, however, must be deferred to the following chapters. For the present it must suffice to notice that the human attitude is one of pursuit and gradual progress, rather than of any complete attainment of the good that we have in view. A few remarks on the significance of human pro- gress may here be in place. But first we must refer briefly to the conception of a General Will. 5. The General Will. Rousseau expressed the solidarity of a community by the conception of a general will, and his statements on this subject are in a high degree enlightening. 1 This is certainly a very convenient way of summing up certain important aspects of human life ; but it is apt to be some- what misleading. Strictly speaking, will or choice would seem to be an attitude that belongs to individuals, though their choice may be directed to objects that are of social importance, rather than of individual importance, and may be influenced by considerations that, simply as individuals, they would hardly feel. What is meant by a general will is essentially similar to what has been previously referred to as general knowledge. 2 Just as an individual does not always know the grounds for that choice which is expressed in his beliefs, so he does not always know the grounds for the choice that is expressed in overt action. His more purely individual acts depend on the values that he attaches to the objects that he chooses ; but in very many cases he accepts his valuations from the community to which he belongs. Even in economic transactions we do not, in general, give for the 1 Reference should be made to Professor C. E. Vaughan's very valuable In- troduction to his edition of Rousseau's political writings, and to the Appendix in which he contrasts the views of Rousseau with those of Fichte. * Book I, Chapter IX, 3. 334 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY articles that we purchase what they are worth to us, but rather the price that is determined by the state of the market. Something similar is true in actions of a different kind. A statesman is moved by considerations which, as a private individual, might not greatly appeal to him. A soldier is ready to give his life for causes which, as an individual, he may scarcely value at all. An architect may build better than he knows, through the influence of aesthetic demands that have grown up within his community, though the grounds for them may not be clearly apprehended by any one indi- vidual. A writer, even when his utterances have an interest for all time, expresses to a large extent the ideas of his age. There is a system of valuations built up in any com- munity, by influences that it would be difficult to analyse with any completeness ; and the choice of individuals, especially when they are acting on behalf of the community, is often determined by these in ways of which they are hardly conscious. The presence of such a system is recog- nized in such phrases as " the soul of a people," " the conscience of the civilized world," and other similar expres- sions. Indeed, even our more purely individual valuations grow up by processes that could not easily be explained. Cupid is not the only blind god who moves men to ends that are rather felt than known. But it is not altogether satisfactory to treat such facts as implying a general will ; since it is only as focussed in some individual consciousness that they give rise to choice. Rousseau, I think, did not really intend to lay any special emphasis on volonte. He was himself much more a man of feeling than of will ; and I think he meant mainly to emphasize a community of sentiment, rather than of volition. This applies also to Schiller, who did much to emphasize the spirit of national unity. It was Fichte and some of his followers, rather than Rousseau, who laid the emphasis on will, and thus treated the community as if it were an individual entity. When this is done, it is no longer the community that is regarded as the embodiment of the spiritual unity of mankind, but rather the State as expressing in action the community's valuations. But, as Green has urged, 1 we 1 Prolegomena to Ethics, Book III, chapter ii, 184. SPIRITUAL UNITY 335 cannot " suppose a national spirit and will to exist except as the spirit and will of individuals, affected in a certain way by intercourse with each other and by the history of the nation." The action of the State is either that of a monarch or that of a number of persons who decide things by their votes. Of course, the monarch has his advisers ; and, if the governing body is a number of persons, they discuss their policy with one another, and have an eye to the opinions and wishes of others as well as themselves. In this sense, it is no doubt true that their wills have a certain generality ; but this is true of the will of any indi- vidual unless he is extremely " wilful " even in his most private affairs. The danger of applying the conception specially to the State is that it tends to represent it as a sort of divinity ; whether this takes the form of a recognition of the divine right of a monarch or of that of the vox populi. Such a will would seem to have individuality without responsibility ; and this way of thinking of it leads naturally to its enthronement as an unaccountable power, after the manner of Treitschke. Against this it is important to urge that the State does indeed embody a certain power. It is a powerful mechanism designed to maintain justice and human welfare. In so far as its legislative and executive actions are based upon the system of valuations that has been built up within the life of the community, it may be said to express certain general purposes ; but only in the sense in which we might make a similar predication of a cathedral or a railway train, or even of fashions in dress. The State, of course, has much larger functions than any of these things, and much more deliberation is generally devoted to its work. It is the greatest of all the servants of the community ; but it may very well prove a bad master. It makes laws and roads for us the two great legacies of the Roman Empire to the modern world and it is capable of many other forms of organization. But free peoples are constantly mending their laws and their roads, and even the general organization of the State itself. As Walt Whitman said, they " think lightly of the laws "not in the sense that they do not obey them, but that they recognize their pro- visional character, and are always ready to adjust them to 336 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY new conditions. 1 They recognize also that they are citizens of the universe, and not merely of the particular State to which they happen to belong. With these cautions, we may still accept the conception of a general will as a useful one. 2 6. The Interpretation of Progress. In order to attach any definite meaning to progress, it is necessary to have a clear conception of the end to which it is directed. This we find in the view of human life as aiming at the ideals of Truth, Beauty, and Goodness. It is evident that what is commonly called progress is not always, in any definite way, an advance towards these ultimate aims. Rousseau ques- tioned whether the advancement of the arts and sciences in his time involved any real improvement in the essentials of human life ; and a similar doubt has often been raised with regard to the highly materialized civilization of our own age. It may be asked whether we have made any real advance on the type of life that was to be found in ancient Athens or in the best times of the Catholic organization of Europe. Some would even point back to much more primitive con- ditions of human life. Hence there has arisen some doubt whether there is any real progress in the life of humanity at all. One thing at least must be allowed. It could not easily be shown that there is any inevitable tendency to 1 The statement of Adamson is, I think, worth quoting here. "A State as it exists at any moment may be a noble product of human effort, potent for good in innumerable ways, but never is it to be regarded as final, as an end in itself, as other than a way in which the general spirit of humanity has expressed itself under particular conditions. And the changes of a State or system of States seem to me to have significance only when regarded in relation to the movements of human thinking and feeling from which they spring and to which in turn they communicate impulse and direction" (Development of Modern Philosophy, vol. ii, pp. 117-18). 2 The best recent treatment of the general will is that contained in Dr. Bosanquet's Philosophical Theory of the State. There is hardly anything to be objected to in his manner of dealing with it ; but I think it is important to dis- tinguish, more definitely than he has done, between the State as such and other modes of spiritual unity. Some recent books are worth referring to in this connection especially perhaps the Lectures on Nationality by Dr. Holland Rose. " The nation," he says (p. 139), " needs the State to endow it with hands and feet. But the nation remains the directing agency vitalizing and directing the body politic. But behind the nation again there is the growing spirit of humanity, expressing itself in literature, religion, art, and many other ways." See also Mr. Russell's Principles of Social Reconstruction, chapter ii. SPIRITUAL UNITY 337 advancement in human life. Progress is, in general, only brought about by the conscious choice of the good by individuals, and by the concentration of effort on its attain- ment. It may, however, be urged that the effort after such a good is never wholly absent from the human consciousness. It is chiefly obscured by the fact that it has often to be pursued indirectly ; and that the end may be concealed by the means that have to be adopted in the search for it. It is no doubt true, particularly in our own time, that the instruments used for the ordering of human life have some tendency to overwhelm the life itself. " Things are in the saddle, and ride mankind." This opposition between the machinery of life and life itself has been much emphasized by M. Bergson. 1 It is probably right to add, however, that most of the subsidiary ends to which human beings devote themselves can be used as means for the attainment of the higher ends. The pursuit of individual pleasure is probably the most serious obstacle ; but the fact that individuals are free to pursue pleasure implies that they have a certain free- dom to pursue other ends if they choose. The advance of the special sciences may have somewhat blunted the religious sense ; but the co-ordination of the sciences must at least expand our outlook on the universe. The develop- ment of the mechanical arts may have destroyed some forms of beauty ; but, when we learn to use the mechanical arts for their proper purposes, we may be freer to devote ourselves to objects of beauty once more. At any rate, it is in general true that little of what was valuable in the past is destroyed beyond the possibility of recall. We still learn from the Greeks and from many other older civilizations ; and there is nothing to prevent us from appropriating everything that was best in them. The highest ends are not dependent, in any direct way, on external conditions. By taking thought, we can make steady progress towards them. The chief doubts with regard to the reality of progress in recent times are due to that theory of evolution, of which 1 One of his most striking illustrations is in his recent little book on The Meaning of the War, which is traced to the dominance of State-machinery in Germany. How far this particular application is just, we are probably not at present in a position to judge quite fairly. 22 338 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY Weismann is the most prominent representative, according to which acquired characteristics are not inherited. It is doubtful whether that doctrine has been fully established ; but at least it seems to have been so far proved as to render impossible the kind of optimism that was based by Herbert Spencer upon the Lamarckian theory ; and has led to the kind of despair of human progress that has been eloquently set forth by Mr. Bernard Shaw in Man and Superman. The only refuge, it would seem, is to be found in the somewhat desperate attempt at artificial selection (desperate at least in the present state of our knowledge) ' with a view to the breeding of the Superman. But this view rests on a too individualistic conception of human progress. The modern individual may not in himself be in any way superior to his fathers, and yet may have a spiritual inheritance that raises him above them. Talbot was not the only man whose indi- viduality was but the shadow of himself. A modern school- boy has access to knowledge that was unattainable by Aristotle ; and it is not only to knowledge that such access is provided. There is also access to new possibilities of feeling and action, to finer valuations and more adequate means of expression, and these are by no means confined to supermen. Benjamin Kidd's Social Evolution, crude as in many respects it was, had at least the merit of calling atten- tion to this more social conception of progress, in opposition to the doctrine of Spencer. The achievements of great men would indeed be somewhat futile if the fruits of their labours did not, in some degree, live on in the common consciousness of mankind. Even Carlyle, who was no great believer in progress, recognized this much. 2 1 I do not mean to deny that much might be learned and accomplished by a careful study of eugenics. Hut the difficulties in the way of its immediate applica- tion that were urged by Huxley in the Prolegomena to his Evolution and Ethics (Collected Essays, vol. ix, pp. 22-3) appear still to retain their force against such proposals as are here referred to. Mr. Bradley's "ethical surgery" appears to me to be open to similar objections. See International Journal of Ethics, vol. iv. Mr. Russell's suggestions (Principles of Social Reconstruction, chapter vi) may be more practicable, but would need to be very carefully thought out. 3 The conception of progress cannot be adequately considered without reference to the sense in which the reality of the time-process is to be recognized. For further remarks bearing upon it in this connection, see Book III, Chapter IV, $37, 8, and 9. SPIRITUAL UNITY 339 7. The Source of Moral Obligation. The conception of spiritual unity that has now been indicated furnishes us with the ultimate source of moral obligation. This has to be distinguished from the kind of obligation that is supplied by custom or law. The most primitive conception of moral obligation is no doubt based on the simple consciousness of the group as a source of customary observances or definite laws. It is this type of morality that is not unfairly described by Nietzsche's phrase "slave morality." When there is a definite distinction in a group between the rulers and the ruled, the latter are simply subject to the " general will " of the former. The proper antithesis to " slave morality," however, would seem to be the morality of freemen, not the morality of masters. The morality of masters, as Nietzsche conceived it, is based on the " Will to Power," whereas the morality of freemen is based on the Will to Truth, Beauty, and Goodness. Such a morality, as Kant urged, is a morality both of master and servant : it is a morality of beings who recognize themselves as belonging to a kingdom of ends, in which they are at once lawgivers and subjects of the law. Its authority is the authority of reason. As rational beings, we recognize that there are conditions under which Truth, Beauty, and Goodness can be most adequately realized. These conditions are not always easy to discover ; but, so far as they can be discovered, they carry with them their own authority for all rational beings. In Butler's language, they have genuine authority, as contrasted with the external force of the group or master. 8. The Significance of the Individual Life. The indi- vidual who recognizes himself as a member of such a spiritual unity has to be thought of in a somewhat different way from the individual who is simply conscious of himself as a member of a group or as a self-assertive personality. Plato's Republic, inspiring as in many respects it is, has the fatal defect that the individual citizens are regarded in it as little more than means to the life of the whole. Each citizen is to have a special function in the life of the State, and is to be trained simply for the fulfilment of that function. When he is, for any considerable time, incapacitated for this, he is to be 340 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY ruthlessly cast aside. He is a wheel in a great mechanism, and has no value, apart from that. This view is adopted by Plato in opposition to what he conceives as the democratic view, the view of Liberty and Equality i.e. the view of individual self-assertion, limited only by the self-assertion of others. Against this assertion of individual rights, Plato urges that the only real right of the individual is his right to the position for which he is fitted in the life of the whole. .What is due to him is simply his duty. He is entitled to secure the place in which he can exercise his special function to the best advantage, and to the education and instruments that are required for the proper discharge of that function. Similar views have been taken by more recent opponents of democracy, such as Carlyle and Ruskin ; and perhaps the organization of modern Germany may be taken as the nearest approximation to the subordination of the individual to the life of the whole. Now, it may be conceded that the only right of the individual is to be allowed to perform his duty ; but what Plato and others seem not to have sufficiently recog- nized is, that, in order to do his duty properly, he must be free to choose it and able to see that it is his duty. He must learn to realize, at least in some degree, that the life of the whole to which he belongs is his own life. In the case of the rulers Plato recognizes this ; but not for the citizens in general. 1 No doubt, even in our modern democracies it is difficult to realize such an ideal, even in an approximate way. Perhaps it cannot be adequately realized without considerable modification in many of our institutions and modes of government. But it is at least more and more recognized that it is only by some tolerable realization of it that a properly human life can be secured. 9. Corporate Immortality. -We may now inquire, how this view of spiritual unity affects the demand for personal immortality. That it must modify it to some extent, seems clear. The individual who recognizes himself as a member of a spiritual unity could at least hardly seek for any con- 1 The doctrine of immortality set forth in the last Book of Plato's Republic may have been intended to serve as a corrective to the conception of the life of the individual as being completely merged in that of the Stale. SPIRITUAL UNITY 341 tinuance of his own life in separation from the whole to which he belongs. Nor would he seek, it would appear, for the continuance of those limitations that are specially charac- teristic of his existence at particular moments. It may be doubted, for instance, whether he would desire the resur- rection of his body ; and yet, as we have noted, it would seem that without this many of the characteristics that we commonly associate with the personality of the individual would disappear. The individual who thinks of himself as a member of a spiritual whole is aiming at the realization of an ideal ; and it is for that ideal that he desires per- sistence, rather than for what belongs more peculiarly to himself. Indeed, even the individual who specially values his own personal existence, would hardly wish for the persistence of every particular aspect of it. The child does not, in general, desire to persist as a child, but rather to become a man ; and yet this involves a considerable change in his personality. Similarly, the individual who has realized, in any considerable degree, the nature of the ultimate aim for which he strives, does not desire the persistence of his limited nature, but rather the attainment of a more perfect mode of being. He thinks of his present life, no doubt, as the child also does, as having a certain continuity with that more perfect life at which he aims ; but the identity may be one that covers a great deal of difference. He thinks of himself as playing a certain part in the development of the higher mode of being at which he aims. He thinks of that higher mode of being as something more comprehensive, in which his present life would be, in some sense, contained. He thinks also of the lives of other persons with whom he co-operates as aiming at a similar realization. Can it properly be said that, in thus thinking of himself and others, he desires personal immortality either for himself or for others? There are some aspects of this question that we must still postpone for further consideration. In the meantime, it may be urged that the desire for immortality is, at any rate, not purely a desire for individual persistence. A parent, conscious of the limitations of his own life, is often chiefly anxious to see the things at which he more or less unsuccessfully aimed, carried out more adequately by his children. A poet 342 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY or artist may value chiefly the immortality of his works, as embodying the finest aspirations of his individual life. Socrates is made immortal in the dialogues of Plato ; and one may wonder whether either of the two would have wished for any better immortality. 1 On the other hand, it may be urged that such immortality as this does not affect the lives of the great majority of mankind. Many have no children, or only children who disappoint their fondest hopes. They are unable also to embody their best thoughts and aspira- tions in enduring work ; nor have they a Plato at hand who will do it for them. Some, again, may feel, like Goethe, that, though they have accomplished something, there is still much that they are impelled to attempt. With reference to this last point, it might of course be asked whether one is fairly entitled to demand that all that he might have done should actually be achieved by himself. In any case, it would seem that, even for a Goethe, there would come a point at which he would have to recognize that he had developed everything that properly belonged to his special individuality. One would suppose that he might then be ready to say " Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace." Hence it may be doubted at least whether more than a limited kind of personal immortality is really demanded immortality up to the point at which the vein is worked out. Reflection on this has led a good many in the Western world to a conception of immortality closely akin to that which has long been current in the East that of successive incarnations terminating at last in the state that is described as Nirvana. On this conception some remarks may have to be made at a later point. 2 10. The Spiritual Significance of Education. We have already noted some different ways in which education may be conceived. It may be regarded as the process of initia- tion into the spirit of the group, or as the process by which 1 George Eliot's lines about joining " the choir invisible " are too familiar to call for special reference. Perhaps the best account of the conception of corporate immortality is that given by Samuel Butler (the author of Ercwhon) in his Essay " How to make the Best of Life." See also J. S. Mill's Three Essays on Religion, especially pp. 118-22. 3 See especially the Note at the end of Book III. SPIRITUAL UNITY 343 an individual personality is unfolded. We have now to notice a conception of culture which may be said to include and harmonize these rival doctrines. If we think of education as the process of initiation into the spiritual heritage of man- kind, we have to regard it as dealing both with what comes from within and with what is imbibed from the surrounding atmosphere. Half of our heritage we bring with us, and half of it we have to win. Even what we inherit is a potentiality that we have still to make our own. Was du ererbt von deinen Vatern hast, Ervvirb cs, um es zu bcsitzen. But part of it lies hidden in our inborn dispositions and tendencies to valuation, part of it in the institutions and customs by which we are surrounded, part of it perhaps the richest part in the treasures of human wisdom which have only been to a small extent embodied in any definite forms, but which may gradually be made accessible to us. Glimpses of them are caught chiefly from the words of the poets and the sages words that do not belong peculiarly to any time or place, but express rather what is essential to the spirit of humanity in all times and places. What is described as moral and religious education is specially concerned with this. Plato gives us glimpses of it throughout his Republic ; and the account of education in Goethe's Witheltn Meister is also concerned with it. It almost requires a genius like that of Plato or Goethe to give an account of it. In ordinary discourse it is apt to be profaned. But fine teachers con- trive to give it, often in a manner that is almost unconscious ; and any education that does not in some way contain it is indeed " secular " and inhuman. 1 1 1 . The Foundations of Ethics and Social Philosophy. The sciences of Ethics and Social Philosophy are the special subjects that are concerned with the spiritual unity of man- kind. Ethics deals with it as the foundation of moral obligation and Social Philosophy as the foundation of the 1 In recent times, the writings of Mr. E. G. A. Holmes and the work of the Civic and Moral Education League are perhaps the most notable contributions, from different points of view, to this aspect of the subject- 344 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY ideal ordering of human communities. It is convenient, as we have already noted, to distinguish the latter from what is now commonly known as Sociology. Sociology is in the main concerned with the actual structure and growth of human societies. The ultimate ends that are involved in such com- munities can hardly be entirely ignored in such a study, but they tend to be relegated to a subordinate place. Even Aristotle separated Ethics from Politics in a way that Plato did not attempt.; and it can hardly be doubted that the separation tended to greater clearness in the treatment of detailed problems. There is a similar advantage in dividing what Aristotle understood by Politics into the part that is mainly historical and descriptive and the part that is con- cerned rather with ideal aims ; though it is no doubt true that all such separations are to some extent artificial. The living soul and the living body can hardly be divided, either in an individual or in a society ; but, in both cases, the study of the structure and growth of the organic unity can be distinguished from the study of the spiritual power that works through it and directs it towards ideal ends. 1 1 The recent book on Community by Professor Maclver has thrown a good deal of fresh light on this subject, especially on the place of institutions in the development of social life. On the distinction between Social Philosophy and Sociology, reference should be made to A Philosophy of Social Progress, by Professor E. J. Urwick. BOOK III THE UNIVERSE AS A WHOLE FROM CHAOS TO COSMOS CHAPTER I THE GENERAL STRUCTURE OF OUR UNIVERSE i . Transition to Cosmic Unity. When xve ipass from the con- ception of a spiritual unity of mankind to the thought of the Universe as a connected whole, we are confronted by problems of very great difficulty, with which we can only hope to deal in a somewhat tentative fashion. There have, indeed, been many brave attempts to deal with it and it cannot be said that they have t>een wholly fruitless, even if none of them has been completely successful. Some of the early attempts that were made in India are highly instruc- tive ; but, in general, they appear to be suggestive rather than logically coherent, resting on intuitions to which it is difficult to give exact form or to provide a basis that can be established by cogent argument. The early Greek specu- lations appear to be partly traceable to Oriental sources. Most of them have a certain clearness, and they helped to give definiteness to mathematical and physical conceptions, and to lay the foundations of logical method ; but they did not furnish any intelligible theory of the Cosmos. Plato, by his doctrine of a system of universal forms, to be interpreted by means of the conception of the Good, sought to represent the whole of reality as being in its essence spiritual ; but he failed to give any intelligible interpretation of the material world and of the particular living beings that we know. Aristotle's theory of a hierarchy of forms, imposed upon a primitive material, gives us a more syste- matic synopsis of the universe, and supplies an excellent basis for the study of the particular sciences, but fails to provide any ultimate explanation. Plotinus was profoundly sugges- tive, but seems to have left his theory somewhat vague. 347 348 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY Aquinas discussed special problems with great acumen, but does not appear to have provided a really fresh construction. Spinoza's system has a great show of logical method and thorough coherence ; but it has the fatal defect of contain- ing a dualism that is at once affirmed and denied. 1 That of Leibniz, though showing great lucidity on particular points, appears to be incoherent as a whole. That of Hegel, though weak in its interpretation of nature, has perhaps a better claim than any other to be regarded as a logically coherent whole ; but it is not easy either to justify it in detail or to understand its final outcome. Among more recent attempts, that of Mr. Bradley is certainly one of the most remarkable ; but it seems to be stronger on the critical than on the con- structive side. On the whole, we cannot appeal to any metaphysical system as claiming absolute validity ; and we must be content to struggle along as best we may. It is evident that it is very difficult to form a coherent view of the universe as a whole ; and this is perhaps not surprising. It may be well to begin by trying to see clearly what we understand by the universe, and what we mean by asking whether it can be regarded as a cosmos. The full implications of the conception of a cosmos will have to be considered later. In the meantime, it seems clear that its primary implication is that of a system that can be re- garded as being, in Spinoza's phrase, causa sui. The modes of unity that have been considered up to this point cannot be so described. Even spiritual unity is not self-explanatory, so long as it has to be regarded as developing in relation to a more or less alien world. What we have now to con- sider 'is whether the universe as a whole can be conceived as a self-explanatory system. But what do we mean by the universe as a whole? Clearly we do not mean the totality of things as at present 'known as existing ; but we do mean something that at least includes that totality of things. Hence it may be well to begin by asking how that totality of things presents itself to us when we view it reflectively. This we 1 A similar remark might be made on the point of view to which the term "Monism" is at present most commonly applied the point of view of which Haeckel is the most prominent representative. It seems, in reality, to contain an unsolved dualism. See the article " Monism," by Professor Euckcn, in the Encyclo- pccdid of Religion and Ethics. GENERAL STRUCTURE OF OUR UNIVERSE 349 may characterize as the human universe i.e. it is the universe as at present apprehended by the human consciousness. How far that universe can properly be regarded as the whole universe, to which the conception of a cosmos might be applied, is another question. But, at any rate, it seems clear that the whole universe must include the universe as human beings apprehend it. 2. The ^Hitman Universe. The universe as known to human beings is evidently a somewhat variable system, though some of its general features may be taken as constant. The universe as known to Empedocles and Anaxagoras was a very different universe from that which was known to Newton and Kant ; and, even since the time of Kant, there have been considerable changes in the way in which it is conceived by instructed and reflective minds, quite apart from any attempts at ultimate philosophical interpretation. Yet even the universe as known to Empedocles and Anaxagoras was very different from that represented in the Homeric poems ; and that again was very different from the universe as it is apprehended by a savage or by a child. To an uninstructed person the universe is little more than the totality of things that can be readily observed within the particular portion of the earth's surface on which his life is passed. For Homer it was a rather more extended surface, surrounded by the ocean stream, and completed by the conjecture of unearthly regions and supernatural powers. To Empedocles and Anaxagoras it pre- sented itself as a more coherent system, with the known portion of the earth's surface as centre, and with a con- ception of the whole as a definite order, arranged in accord- ance with certain intelligible principles. For Newton and Kant, on the other hand, the earth and all that is upon it were but a minute fraction of an immense system, bound together by certain known laws, but as a whole not easily intelligible. Instructed people at the present time think of the universe as an even vaster and more complex system than that which was conceived by Newton and Kant ; and they have a much more complete knowledge of the special laws that are involved in the changes both of the material system that is apprehended and of the conscious processes 350 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY of individual minds ; but the explanation of the whole can hardly be said to have become much easier. Nor have we any definite reason to suppose that we have come to the end of the process by which the extent and complexity of the universe, as apprehended by human thought, have been enlarged. Now, it is pretty obvious to every one that the universe, as apprehended by Homer or by Empedocles and Anaxagoras, could not have been conceived as a cosmos ; because their knowledge of the structure of the whole was too inadequate to furnish a basis for any ultimate interpretation of it. That this is true even of the universe as apprehended by Newton and Kant, would probably be generally admitted ; and we may fairly suspect that it is true even of the universe as we now know it. Hence, when we ask whether the universe can be regarded as a cosmos, we must not be supposed to mean the universe as known by human beings, either now or at any other time. This being the case, it may be thought to be a somewhat vain inquiry. But this would not be an altogether fair inference. We may at least be able to deter- mine the exact meaning of the inquiry ; and we may be able to consider whether there are any features in the universe as we know it which make it either necessary or probable that it should be regarded either as in itself a cosmos or as a part of a more comprehensive cosmic unity. The universe, as apprehended by human beings at any time, or its general features as apprehended at all times, may be referred to as the phenomenal world, or the world of appearance. This does not necessarily mean that it is in any way unreal ; but only that we recognize its incom- pleteness, and that, if we could apprehend it in a more complete way, our conception of its general structure might be considerably altered. In order to bring this out, it may be well to call attention to some of the more general features of the universe as we at present know it. Some of these seem to belong to it in all the phases of human experience : others may belong only to the present phase of our apprehension of the universe. When we have noticed these, we shall be in a better position to consider (i) whether the universe as we know it can be regarded as a cosmos ; (2) if not, what GENERAL STRUCTURE OF OUR UNIVERSE 351 changes in our apprehension of it would be necessary in order that the conception of a cosmos might be applied to it ; (3) whether there are any features in the universe as we know it that would justify us in affirming or denying that it is a cosmos or a part of a cosmos. 3. Universals, Orders, and Particular Things. It will be convenient to begin this inquiry by returning to some con- siderations that were put forward at an earlier stage. We may at least say of the human universe, or the phenomenal world, that it consists of a number of particular things that either appear in the conscious experience of particular indi- viduals, or can be inferred as objects that would so appear under assignable conditions. Now, it has already been urged that particular things, in general, may be regarded as the meeting -points of universals in orders. This fire, for instance, seems to contain brightness, redness, warmth, extension, of certain degrees and amounts, all apprehended by me at this moment of time, and recognized as having, in their combina- tion, a certain appreciable value. This unity of different universals is, moreover, apprehended by me as not simply momentary, but as having a certain persistence ; and I regard it as being causally dependent on certain assignable con- ditions. Similar statements, it would seem, might be made about all the objects in the phenomenal world ; but, though the statements would be similar, they would all be in some respects different. If we ask whether there are any definite statements that could be made about them all, a few state- ments of that kind do appear to present themselves. All particular things that we apprehend would seem to be numerable. What we apprehend at any particular time may be one thing or many things ; but, in either case, the con- ception of number is applicable to it. Again, all such things appear to have an assignable position in space and time. They are all capable of being apprehended and valued. And they are all subject to certain general causal conditions, though the special conditions that are applicable to them may vary. On the other hand, they do not all have colour or temperature ; and it is doubtful whether they can all be said to have intensity or extent, or to persist throughout an appreciable 352 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY time. Setting aside these variable characteristics, and fixing our attention on those that are always present, we seem to find that some of them are such that we cannot, by any effort of thought, suppose them to be absent ; while others might conceivably be eliminated. It is customary to express this difference by saying that some of them are known a priori and others a posteriori ; and, though these expres- sions are apt to be misleading, it may be convenient to use them for our present purpose. Let us try to see how this distinction can be applied. 4. A Priori and a Posteriori Aspects of the Phenomenal World. That particular things in the phenomenal world are numerable, may be said to be known a priori. The instances of the presence of any universal must, it would seem, be some assignable number of instances. It may be that of some conceivable universals such as perfection there is no instance. Of others such as God there may be only one instance. Of some such as number itself there may be an infinite number of instances. But, at any rate, taking the cardinal numbers from zero to infinity, it would seem that the instances of the presence of any universal must be expressible by one of these numbers. Indeed, it would seem that the universals themselves must also be numerable ; but with that we need not at present concern ourselves. It is enough for our present purpose to recognize, that the general characteristic of numer- ability can be assigned a priori to all the particular objects that appear in the phenomenal world. It would not be easy to show that there is any other characteristic that is a priori in the same absolute sense. It might, no doubt, be urged that every object that can be assigned to the phenomenal world must be capable of being known and valued. Otherwise, it may be said, it could not be placed in the human universe. But it seems necessary to add the qualification, that they must be capable of being known and valued under certain conceivable! conditions ; and, as these conditions may never occur, the capability may be a mere potentiality. To take a simple instance, there may be grounds for believing that there are certain colours that might be apprehended by beings with more finely developed GENERAL STRUCTURE OF OUR UNIVERSE 353 senses than ours ; and we may have a right to say that such colours have a place in the phenomenal world ; but, if there are no beings with such senses, these colours may never be known and appreciated. This case is not the same as that of a flower that is " born to blush unseen " ; for such a flower may be pictured and appreciated. It is clear, however, that nothing can be said to belong to the human universe which might not, under certain definite conditions, be known and appreciated by human beings. But to say this is only to explain what we mean by the human universe. The statement may be said, in Kantian language, to be a priori, but not synthetic. What are we say about causation? We have seen that causation appears to mean certain definite orders in which things different in kind are related. Now, it certainly seems, as Kant urged, that, without the recognition of such orders, we could not have any definite human universe at all ; and, in that sense, the recognition of causal connections may be said to be a necessary a priori assumption. But it is not a priori quite in the sense in which number is so. It is abstractly conceivable that there might be no such orders of connection, or that they might only have a limited application. It is probably true to say that human beings have generally believed that only some things are related in such definite orders ; and that a considerable number of occurrences happen by chance. Even at the present time, there are some philosophers l who maintain the doctrine of contingency. We shall have to refer to this more particularly in the next chapter. In the meantime, it may suffice to state that such a doctrine cannot be refuted in any abstract way. The confidence that is generally felt in the universal applicability of some form of causation is due to the success 1 Notably Professors E. Boutroux (The Contingency of the Laws of Nature) and James Ward (The Realm of Ends, Lecture IV and pp. 454-5). The former seems to be mainly occupied in contending that all things are not determined in a purely mechanical way. This is only to say that there are different modes of determination that qualify each other. The sense in which this may be maintained has been already considered, especially in Book II, Chapter V. Dr. Ward seeks to distinguish between Contingency and Chance ; but it is not easy to see how such a distinction can be upheld. For some criticisms on the conception of Contingency, reference may be made to Pringle-Pattison's Idea of God, pp. 183-8. See also Dr. Bosan- quet's Principle of Individuality and Value, p. 94. 23 354 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY which has attended the efforts that have been made to dis- cover such orders in various departments of scientific inquiry. Things that were once thought to occur by chance have been found to be connected with one another by definite laws ; and we have thus been led to expect that all things might ultimately be found to be so connected. But there are still many things in which no such connections are apparent ; and there is no absurdity in supposing that there are no connections to be found. We do not know how it comes that the human universe has the particular structure that we discover in it how it comes, for instance, that there are a certain number of chemical elements, and that they may be combined with one another in certain ways, and not in others. Even Kant had to recognize that such laws are purely empirical. Hence it seems clear that the modes of causal connection are not known a priori. If the universe is to be regarded as a cosmos, there must be definite orders of connection ; but we are not yet in a position to consider whether the universe can be so regarded. The human universe at least, the phenomenal world, is not obviously a cosmos. Indeed, it is very difficult to suppose that it could ever be regarded as a cosmos. ; What about space and time? It would certainly be diffi- cult to think of particular instances of universals as occurring without some relations of side-by-side-ness and before and after. Even if we try to think of an absolute chaos, we can hardly help thinking of its content as consisting of things, some of which are side by side and others before and after. But it does not appear that we are bound to think of them as occupying a single all-embracing space and a single all- embracing time. Even in the ordinary exercise of human imagination, we do not seem to be limited to such a con- ception. The adventures of Alice " through the looking- glass " need not be supposed to occur in the same spatial systems as that in which our ordinary life is carried on ; nor need we suppose that the adventures of Don Quixote occurred either before or after those that are recorded in the Arabian Nights or those that are told by Hans Andersen. Within these special universes we have to think of side -by- side -ness and before and after, but we need not give them GENERAL STRUCTURE OF OUR UNIVERSE 355 a local habitation within our everyday human universe. The latter, however, has to be thought of as a series of occurrences that can be placed in a continuous time order ; and that, at any particular time, have definite positions in a continuous system of space. Reflection on all this may enable us to see that the essential features of our human universe i.e. of the universe within which our ordinary waking life is carried on are that it is a world contained within a single system of space and a single system of time, and in which things are connected together by definite causal orders. It was perhaps the chief contribution of Kant to philosophical advancement, that he was the first to make this clear. Some further consideration of it may be here in place. 5. The World in Space arid Time. Space and Time were regarded by Kant as the general forms of human perception. This may be accepted as substantially correct, in the sense that has now been indicated ; though his treatment of these forms is open to many criticisms In detail. He appears to have been right also in believing ''that our apprehension of objects as having definite positions in space and time is de- pendent on our recognition of causal orders. Without this recognition, we should still have the apprehension of side-by- side-ness and the relation of before and after, as we have even in. the working of imagination ; but we should not be able to assign to objects a definite order in single systems of Space and Time. On this we need not here enlarge. Those who have followed Kant's arguments will hardly question it ; though it is probably true that they are need- lessly elaborate, and not always clear. But it may be well to ask what we mean by saying that things or events are in particular positions in space and time. When I say, for instance, that this fire occupies a particular place in this room, and that it is burning at this particular moment, but was not burning an hour ago, how are such statements to be interpreted and justified? The fire, as we have noted, means the occurrence of instances of redness, warmth, etc., in certain definite connections. Is it right to say that this particular colour and temperature are at a particular place at 356 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY a particular time? Obviously, there is a sense in which they are not confined to the particular position to which I refer them. The apprehension of the redness, for instance, depends on the use of my eyes ; and it 'may be said to be in my eyes, or in my brain, or in my mind, as well as in the fireplace. What I mean by saying that it is in the fireplace, is that its being in my apprehension is dependent primarily on certain causal conditions that are traceable to the fireplace as their most definite starting-point. A certain spatial extent is connected in a special way with certain qualities of colour and certain degrees of temperature which, under certain assignable conditions, are apprehended by me. The portion of spatial extent which is specially connected with these qualities has certain relations of side-by-side-ness to other portions of space, with which the qualities have no particular connection. The time at which the apprehension takes place is similarly related to other times that are before or after it ; and my general knowledge of causal relations leads me to believe that at certain previous or subsequent times the special qualities of colour and temperature that are now apprehended in relation to that portion of space would not be so apprehended. The explanation that is thus given is, in the main, the explanation that would have been given by Berkeley. His error seems to have lain only in attri- buting to the mind a kind of substantiality different from that which belongs to other meeting-points of universals. It was in this sense that his position was refuted by Hume and Kant. Conscious processes are connected with particular posi- tions in space and time, just as colours and temperatures are ; and hence were rightly regarded by Kant as belonging to the phenomenal world. What we have to recognize is that the whole universe of human experience is a system of things and events specially connected with particular positions in a spatial and temporal order, and bound together by regular causal relations. But on the general characteristics of Space and Time some further remarks may be worth making here. 6. General Cfiaracteristics of Space. It is important to distinguish the empirical or phenomenal existence of the spatial world from the fact of side -by -side -ness in general. GENERAL STRUCTURE OF OUR UNIVERSE 357 The latter is essentially conceptual, and is not necessarily limited to the particular form in which spatial existence is presented to us in perception. The world as we perceive it, whether visually or tactually, consists of groups of qualities arranged in a three-dimensional system which can be regarded as homogeneous in all directions. Kant thought that these characteristics were known a priori ; but it seems clear that this is not the case. It is possible to think of a spatial system which should have less or more 'than three dimensions, and in which different directions should not be homogeneous. 1 It is quite conceivable also that the dimensions of objects as apprehended by sight should not correspond to those appre- hended by touch. As a matter of fact, it is very obvious that there is some 'lack of correspondence, not only in this respect, but in the appearance of objects apprehended by the same sense under different conditions. Distant objects seem smaller to sight than those that are near to us ; and the same object in contact with different parts of the body appears to have different dimensions. But we habitually make allowance for these differences, and do not regard them as due to differences in the spatial system. We are justified in this by empirical considerations. An object that seems small may become larger in appearance by moving towards us or by our moving towards it ; and it thus becomes obvious ' Caird supported Kant's view of the necessary limitation of our conception of space to one that is three-dimensional and homogeneous (Critical Pliilosophy of Kant, vol. i, p. 165, note) ; but I cannot follow his argument, unless it refers merely to the difficulty of conceiving a world in a space of a different type. I confess, I find it difficult to conceive how a fourth dimension would he placed. The nearest I can get to it is to think of the time-order, and then try to suppose that the things that exist at different times are coexistent, instead of successive. A fifth dimension might then be conceived as a different time-order. But perhaps more expert mathematicians are able to interpret other dimensions of space in a more satisfactory manner. At any rate, it is not easy to see how, as Caird maintained, the definition of space can limit it to three dimensions. To suppose it to be non-homogeneous seems easier ; just as we may suppose all observable events to succeed one another more rapidly at one time than at another. For some remarks on the general problem, sec Husserl's Logischc Uutersuchungen, vol. i, p. 251. Lotze made an elaborate attempt to show, by mathematical reasoning, that it was not possible to have more than three dimen- sions in space. See his Metaphysics, Book II, chapter ii, 135. But it must be left to mathematicians to decide this question. Lotze himself seems to have felt some doubt with regard to the cogency of his argument. A recent article in Mind (October 1915) on Euclidean Space by Mr. C. D. Broad seems to me to contain the clearest statement on the whole subject with which I am acquainted. See also D. C. Macintosh's Problem of Knowledge, pp. 466-7. 358 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY that the alterations in its apparent magnitude are not due to its actual position in space, but only to its position in relation to us. But it is quite conceivable that the structure of the spatial system might be such that objects should actually become smaller in some parts of it than in others i.e. that they should still appear smaller when we moved towards them. It would seem, therefore, that the structure of the spatial system, as we learn to know it in our ordinary waking experience, is essentially empirical. To some extent, the general characteristics of this spatial system cling to us even in imagination. We can hardly imagine ourselves as living in a two-dimensional space ; and it is doubtful whether we can imagine ourselves as living in a four- dimensional one. In dreams, however, and under the influ- ence of opium or other drugs, the spatial system that is presented is apt to seem considerably different from what it is in our ordinary waking experience. But we regard the spatial system of our active waking life as its normal appearance. In that system objects are regarded as occupy- ing definite positions and having definite forms at any particular moment, even when those positions and forms are not those that they appear to have. We learn, for instance, to assign positions, forms, and magnitudes to the sun, moon, and stars, very different from those that they appear to have. For empirical purposes we seem to be justified in doing this ; though it is probably true to say that it is in some respects misleading. When we regard the sun as being at an immense distance from the earth, it becomes difficult to believe that there is an attractive force between them. Probably it would be truer to say that most of the characteristics that we ascribe to the sun are rightly referred to a position very remote from the earth, but that some of them have to be regarded as extending beyond that position. Similar state- ments could probably be made about all existing objects. Human beings, for instance, may be remote from one another in space, and yet their mutual influence on one another may be strongly felt. It has been commonly said that a thing can only act where it is. It might be truer to say that wherever it acts, there it in some sense is. But it seems to be true at least that the more remote things are from GENERAL STRUCTURE OF OUR UNIVERSE 359 one another in space, the less conspicuous in general are their interactions. Hence there is a partial justification for our regarding their existence as belonging specially to particular spatial positions. We can assign no definite limits to space, conceived simply as the possibility of side-by-side-ness in a homogeneous three- dimensional order. It does not follow from this that the objects that can rightly be regarded as occupying positions in such an order are not limited in number. But this is a question to which we shall have to return later. 7. General Characteristics of Time. Time was charac- terized by Kant as the form of inner sense. This is certainly misleading. The distinction between outer and inner sense, or, in Locke's language, between sensation and reflection, has only a relative validity. Everything that we apprehend is necessarily apprehended as standing in a certain relation to the focus of our individual consciousness, and may be said to belong to the inner sense. Some things, however, are specially referred to objects distinct from ourselves ; and some of these are definitely placed in the spatial order. Others are regarded as 'belonging to some system that is not definitely spatial ; and some of these are referred specially to our own individual personality. All have some temporal reference, in the sense that they are apprehended at some particular moment ; and all have some spatial refer- ence, in the sense that, at the time when we apprehend them, our consciousness is related to an organism standing in spatial relations to other objects. Apart from this, it seems clear that some of the objects especially universals are not re- garded as belonging specially either to space or to time ; some are specially regarded as belonging to space, some to time, and some to both. It is true that when we attend specially to ,the subjective aspect of our experience, time is more prominent than space ; and that when we attend specially to the objective aspect, space tends to become rela- tively prominent. But it does not appear that the distinction ought to be made more emphatic than this. It is doubtful whether it is even right to say that time is more universal than space, though there is certainly some ground for such 360 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY an affirmation. But we may say, in general, that all things that we commonly describe as existing have both a temporal and spatial reference. In fact, we commonly mean by existence the occurrence of something at some time and place. As in the case of space, we have to distinguish between the temporal system and the general relation of before and after. Priority and posteriority are general conceptions that can be applied to objects of imagination as well as to things that we regard as occurring as existing phenomena in time. They can be applied also to logical relations. The premises of a reasoning may be said to be prior to the conclusion, i may be said to be prior to 2, and there is a natural priority and posteriority in the methodical treatment of any subject. It was this kind of priority that Descartes referred to when he said that the consciousness of God is prior to the consciousness of self ; and it is this that we have in mind when we speak of presuppositions or of a priori and a posteriori aspects of experience. Such priority and posteriority readily become temporal ; but at least they do not refer to any particular date. Temporal priority and posteriority, on the other hand, refer to the placing of things or events in definite positions within a continuous order of happenings. Our justification for so placing them is similar to that which we have with reference to the ordering of things in space. The moment of our present conscious experience exists for us in a sense in which past or future moments do not exist ; and we regard a large number of sj>atial objects as existing at the present moment. We either apprehend them at the present moment or recognize that we might under certain conditions, in accordance with known orders of causal connection, apprehend them as at present existing. What is past or future is, in general, not capable of being, in any similar way, apprehended at the present moment. Here, however, as in the case of space, we have to recognize certain qualifications. We have to remember, as William James urged, 1 that the " specious present " can never be regarded as a simple point. It has to be noted also that much of what is past is apprehended by us in memory, and is con- 1 Principles of Psychology, vol. i, p. 609. See also Royce, The World ami the Individual, vol. i, pp. 420-2, vol. ii, pp. 113-26 and 130-42. GENERAL STRUCTURE OF OUR UNIVERSE 361 sequent ly present as well as past. We know it now, though we refer it to a previous time. Our activities, moreover, are constantly directed towards the future ; and we can often anticipate what is future with quite as much certainty as we can know what is present. We are often in error about the past, and still more often about the future ; but errors about the present are almost as common even errors about what is involved in our own present experience, our feelings, our motives, our valuations. It would seem, therefore, that all that we are entitled to say is that present things have a more direct existence for us than those that are past, and still more than those that are future. Even this varies a good deal with different attitudes of mind. Those who are young and hopeful are apt to live largely in the future ; while the old and despondent are rightly said to live mainly in the past. 1 It remains true, however, that the present has always a certain dominance. We see and hear, we eat and drink, in the present. Our sensuous life is necessarily limited in that way ; and animals that do not " look before and after " are, no doubt, much more definitely limited in that respect. And, even when the past and the future are most real to us, it is still in the present that we apprehend them ; and, above all, it is in the present that we choose and act. 2 But there are some special problems connected with the existence of the past and future that must be held over for consideration in the following chapters. Time, like space, has to be thought of as indefinitely extensible order ; and it is more difficult in the case of time, than in that of space, to suppose that any limits could 1 In some abnormal cases the tendency to live in the past becomes strikingly conspicuous. See, for instance, the account of Mr. Hanna's return to his " primary personality " in Multiple Personality, by Sidis and Goodhart. It may be worth noting here that it used to be a common fancy, as Sir T. Browne expressed it, that " departed spirits know things past and to come ; yet are ignorant of things present." Dante, in the Inferno, Canto X, represents some of the souls in Hades as foretelling the future, but unable to see what is present. There seems to be a somewhat similar view in Homer. Of course, such ideas have no scientific- value, but they may serve to illustrate what is meant by detachment from the present, and to show that it is a conception that naturally suggests itself to the human mind. 2 " To call up the past in the form of an image, we must be able to withdraw ourselves from the action of the moment, we must have the power to value the useless, we must have the will to dream." Bergson's Matter and Memory, 362 be assigned to the series of occurrences that have to be placed in it, owing to the apparent demands of the principle of causation that every event should follow upon an ante- cedent event and lead on to a subsequent one. It would appear from this that we cannot suppose that there is either a beginning or an end to the series of occurrences that take place in time. But this difficulty, as well as some others that are connected with the conception of change, will have to be dealt with in the succeeding chapters. 8. The Physical System. The most extensive part of the objects that we apprehend in our ordinary experience con- stitutes what may be called the physical system the system that can, to a large extent, be interpreted by such principles as those of dynamics, gravitation, and the conservation of energy. This system is generally believed to be limited in spatial extent ; ' and recent theories of the degradation of energy point to the view that its existence in the form in which we commonly know it may have to be regarded as limited in time also, though some competent physicists 2 appear to think that there is a possibility that the higher manifestations of energy might be recoverable. If the latter view is a tenable one, it would probably be right to regard the physical system as going through a series of cycles, such as were conceived by Heraclitus and Empcdocles and such as Virgil poetically described. It seems to be pretty well estab- lished that there is a " downward path," whether or not there is also an upward one. This it must be left to physicists to determine. Some of its more purely philosophical bearings will have to be referred to later. Meantime, what it is chiefly important for us to remember here, is, that the state- ment of these physical principles, however fully and firmly they may be established, does not afford any explanation of 1 Lord Kelvin at least appears to have been fully convinced of this. See his Life, by S. P. Thompson, p. 1162. Arrhenius and others, however, have supported the opposite opinion. See Arrhenius, Life of the Universe, p. 223. I understand, however, that the views of physicists with regard to the quantity of " energy " in the material universe have been greatly modified by recent discoveries. a Notably Sir Oliver Lodge. But it seems doubtful whether his view can be maintained on purely physical grounds. See also what is stated on this subject by M. L. Poincare in The New Physics, p. 81. GENERAL STRUCTURE OF OUR UNIVERSE 363 the particular qualities that we discover in the objects that we apprehend as belonging to the physical system. The general 'phenomena of light, heat, sound, etc., as distinguished from the conditions on which they depend, are not explained by any physical laws ; nor can it for a moment be main- tained that there is any psychological explanation of them. Some special points with reference to colour combinations, contrast effects, may perhaps be capable of explanation by means of recognized laws of physics, physiology, or psychology ; but the general facts remain purely empirical. The same seems to be true, for the present, of the existence of chemical elements, the modes of their combinations, and the qualities that result from these combinations ; though it is possible that some of these facts may be capable of physical explanation. Sense-qualities at least have to be recognized as independent universals, a/ litnla, p. 353 ; and compare Pringle-Pattison's Idea <>/ God, p. 404. THE FINITE AND THE INFINITE 423 bility of accomplishing whatever is chosen. It would then be limited by the condition that what is chosen is not evil or absurd i.e. it would be taken in conjunction with the conceptions of infinite goodness and wisdom. 1 Infinite power, thus interpreted, would be boundless, if there is an endless number of things to be chosen. But its essential feature would seem to consist, not in its boundlessness, but in its freedom. This is a point to which we shall have to return shortly. Infinite goodness, again, interpreted as boundless, would seem to mean the choice of what is best in every conceivable case. If the number of cases is endless, the acts of choice would be innumerable. In dealing with goodness, however, it seems clearly to be better to regard the attribute as being essentially qualitative. The attitude of always choosing the best, though it may be applicable to an indefinite number of cases, seems to be in itself a simple determination of will or character. It does not really consist of a number of distinct things. The endlessness lies only in the number of cases to which the single principle of choice may be applied. Hence it seems best to speak of complete or perfect or inexhaustible goodness, rather than of infinite goodness. It is perhaps partly the difficulties involved in the applica- tion of the conception of boundlessness to such attributes that have led some recent writers to postulate the existence 1 I think Dr. McTaggart's contention (Some Dogmas of Religion, 166) is largely dependent on the view that the principles of Identity, Contradiction, and Excluded Middle arc laws. Once it is seen that they are simply the implications of intelligible meaning, it is surely evident that they do not limit an intelligent being. The question (p. 204), " Could God create a being of such a nature that he could not subsequently destroy it ? " is on a par with some of the old Megaric puzzles. It seems enough to say that such an act would be both evil and self- contradictory. It may be, however, that this puzzle is intended as an argnmenlitni ad homincin. If so, I think there ought to be a reference to the particular Iwino against whom it is directed. Aquinas, for instance (Summa contra Gentiles, especially II, xxv), recognized plenty of qualifications with which the conception of omnipotence must be understood. See Jourdain's Philosophic de Saint-Thomas, p. 220. It seems clear enough that a wise and good God could not do what is wicked or absurd. Moreover, if we are to play with the conception of omni- potence, it might surely be urged that a being A, who created another omnipotent being B, would not by so doing derogate from his own omnipotence. The omnipotence of A would be limited by that of B ; but such self-limitation would not be an evidence of lack of power. But I think the essential point is that such a conception as that of omnipotence, if it is to have any meaning at all, must be interpreted in relation to other conceptions with which it is connected. 424 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY of a " finite God." If an infinite God exists, it seems clear that such a being must be thought of as completely actualized, not merely as containing endless possibilities ; yet it is dilii- cult if not actually self -contradictory to think of any concrete thing as being both boundless and complete. It is, however, partly from the point of view of perfection that the con- ception of a finite God has been brought forward. It is urged that what we know about the imperfections of our Universe forces us to believe that, if there is a God at all, he is either not perfect in goodness or not perfect in power or knowledge. " In a being all-powerful," as Guyau says, 1 " patience of evil would be a crime." But the con- sideration of this problem must be reserved for the following chapter. 13. The Finitude of Existent Things. So far, in referring to particular existences, we have been content to urge that there is no positive ground for regarding any of them as infinite in number. 2 I believe, however, that it is possible to go farther than this ; and to state definitely that there is a positive ground for holding that they are all limited in number. The general ground for this belief has been partly indicated with reference to the particular case of suc- cessive events in time ; but it appears to be applicable to other cases as well. To say that any existing things are infinite in number is to say that, in the process of counting them, we should find one that corresponds to every possible number from i to infinity. Now, although infinity is a definite conception as applied to the series of numbers, it does not appear to be possible to apply it positively, in the same sense, to existing things. As applied to such things, what it must be taken to mean is that, however many there might be of them, there would always be the abstract possibility of adding more. But the things that exist must be definite in number. Hence, however many of them there are, there might from the point of view of pure number be an endless 1 Non-religion of the Future, p. 507. See also Father Payne, pp. 96-8. 2 Professor Ostwald in his Philosophic dcr Wcrte (p. 150) gives some interesting instances of physical conditions that necessitate finitude ; but I am unable to form any judgment on the cogency of the considerations that he adduces. THE FINITE AND THE INFINITE 425 number more added. Hence those that actually exist cannot be infinite in number. In short, the fact that the series of ordinal numbers is infinite prevents anything else from being infinite in the same sense. Even Universals and ultimate Categories can hardly, it would seem, be regarded as infinite in number, if they are to be supposed to be capable of any exact determination. 14. Infinity and Freedom. In its bearings upon human life and aspiration, the conception of Infinity is very closely related to that of Freedom. When we think of our finitude as an imperfection, we are, in general, chafing against certain restraints. The modern man, with his keen appreciation of liberty, tends to be more fully conscious of such restraints than the ancients were. The primitive man, when his sense of obligation was at all awakened, accepted his station and its duties almost as a matter of course ; and the Greeks, as we have already noted, tended to regard limitation as a necessary mark of perfection. They were willing to allow that slaves and private persons (i&ojrcu) might be allowed a certain licence; but the free citizen was restricted by definite laws. Plato regarded it as the very essence of a perfect State, that every one in it confines himself to his own special and limited functions. Aristotle's High-minded Man is well satisfied with himself, because he feels that he has completely realized all the definite and limited charac- teristics of a perfect citizen. Eastern thought has been more prone to think of perfection as requiring infinity ; but it has generally treated it as a remote ideal, only to be attained through the negation of the individual life. It was probably Christ, more than any. one else, who familiarized us with the ideal of being perfect as our Father in Heaven is perfect ; and so made us dissatisfied with any limited form of development. Kant's conception of immortality as an infinite progress required for the attainment of perfect holiness, is perhaps the most definite illustration of the way. in which modem thought has been affected by mis concep- tion. Kant thought of this process as an endless one, but conceived that, from the divine point of view, it might be regarded as completed. Royce, if I understand him rightly, 426 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY considered it to be a process with a definite end, but involving an unlimited number of stages. Even Greek thought was not wholly without appreciation of the limitless, as in the avfipt&futv yAao/td of /Eschylus, but their artistic sense led them, in general, to prefer what is definite and limited, as in sculpture. Medieval art prefers to have at least some suggestion of transcendence ; and modern poetry and music especially perhaps such music as that of Wagner (" music yearning like a god in pain ") is full of such suggestion. On the whole, we tend to think that the Sublime is finer than the Beautiful, because it frees us more completely from " was uns alle bandigt das Gemeine." It is in this sense of release from all limitations that Carlyle, for instance, speaks of the infinite Shoeblack, who " for his permanent satisfaction and saturation " would require " God's infinite Universe altogether to himself, therein to enjoy infinitely and satisfy every wish as fast as it rose." With this may be compared the saying of Wordsworth Our destiny, our being's heart and home, Is with infinitude, and only there; With hope it is, hope that can never die, Effort, and expectation, and desire, And something evermore about to be. This attitude of mind ' has its dangers, as leading us out into vague ideals, instead of to that which, in Aristotle's phrase, " can be done and achieved by man." Mr. W. B. Yeats records 2 how once, as a boy, he was called on to write an essay on the theme that " Men may rise by stepping- stones of their dead selves to higher things " ; and how his father indignantly denounced the choice of such a subject, as tending to destroy dcfiniteness and fixity of purpose suggesting that a much better subject would be "To thine own self be true." Most of what is objectionable in the writings of Nietzsche seems to arise from a vague discon- tent with all things established and conventional, and the 1 A good illustration of the manner in which tin's way of thinking tends to persist, even in minds that arc not apt to dwell much on transcendent conceptions, may be found in J. M. Ouyau's \\>/t-irli^ioti t>f tl/r Falun 1 , pp. 500-6. 2 Reveries of Childhood and Youth, pp. 108-9. THE FINITE AND THE INFINITE 427 apprehension of an indefinite and far-off goal whither " stormier than the sea storms our great longing." Even the purely mathematical conception of infinity should serve as a corrective to such a tendency as this ; for there is at least nothing vague in the mathematical conception. It is the thought of a determinate result, reached by a definite method, though involving a process that is essentially without limit. It was against such vague aspirations as those here referred to that Goethe insisted that " he who would accomplish anything must learn to limit himself." The Chris- tian conception of " dying to live " may also be interpreted as meaning that some sacrifice or limitation is necessary for the achievement of the complete or perfect. The idea of the infinite is thus contrasted with that of the boundless. Free- dom, as Spinoza put it, is recognized as meaning, not absolute independence of law, but rather an understanding of the conditions by which we are bound, and acceptance of them as the law of the Universe of which we are spiritual members, and hence as essentially our own law. The conception of infinity, as being closely connected with that of freedom, and as meaning essentially what is self-bounded, as con- trasted with that which is limited from without, was still more definitely emphasized by Hegel. 1 This leads us to notice more definitely what is to be understood by the conception of perfection. 1 5 . The Conception of Perfection. The conception of perfection, as we have already noticed, has often been identi- fied especially in the Cartesian school with that of infinity. In ordinary discourse it is common enough to use such expres- sions as " infinitely pure," " infinitely wise," " infinitely just." But such conceptions do not necessarily imply anything of the nature of an infinite series, but at most of an indefinite number of approximations. What they do imply is a certain completeness in the realization of a type. For absolute per- fection something more than this would seem to be wanted. However completely any type may be realized, it is still a limited type, and has to be explained by reference to other types. The conception of perfection appears to demand some- 1 See McTaggart's Commentary, p. 34. 428 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY thing that is self-explanatory causa sui, in the language of Spinoza. It seems clear that we cannot find any existing thing within our Universe to which this conception can be applied ; nor does it seem to be found in any universal or ultimate category, except the category of perfection itself. The nearest that we can find to it is in human life, in so far as human beings are capable of taking up that attitude, which is best described by Spinoza that of complete under- standing of the whole, and acceptance of its conditions as the essential law of our own being. Such an attitude, how- ever, is possible only if we can regard the whole as a self-explanatory Cosmos. It is with this conception that we have to deal in the following chapter. CHAPTER IV THE CONCEPTION OF A COSMOS i . The Possibility of a Self-explanatory System. The con- ception of Perfection would seem to be the only one in which there is any hope of finding an ultimate explana- tion. If a system is seen to be perfect, no further explanation need be sought. It is then apprehended as .causa sui. On the other hand, in dealing with anything that displays imperfection, we 'are always led to inquire, Why is it thus, rather than otherwise? Now, it is no doubt quite possible to harden our hearts against this demand for explana- tion, and to say that we must rest satisfied with the descrip- tion of what we actually find in the universe of our experience, without any attempt at ultimate explanation. This is the attitude of Positivism ; and, indeed, it is also the attitude of that land of Agnosticism which is represented by Kant and some of his followers. According to these views, we can only know what is phenomenal, and the phenomenal never contains any explanation of itself. It has simply to be accepted. Now, it is of course true that we have to accept the phenomenal Universe. William James reported ' the saying of Margaret Fuller, that she " accepted the Universe," and Carlyle's comment, " Gad ! she'd better." In a sense, it may even be admitted that we have to accept it without any hope of a completely satisfactory explanation. Yet it is hardly possible to inhibit altogether the demand of our nature for some sort of explanation of what we know. If we cannot find a complete one, we must at least try to see in what direction an explanation is to be sought. Now, there are two main directions in which in almost all ages of reflective thought men have been led to look for a self- * Varieties of Religious Experience, p. 41. 429 430 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY explanatory system. Mathematical science seems to be, in a sense, self-explanatory, and so does human choice. A brief consideration of the sense in which this is true in each case may bring us to the heart of our problem. Mathematical science is self-explanatory in the sense that, so long as we confine ourselves strictly 'to the conceptions of number and extensive magnitude, everything that can be discovered about them is discovered by the direct implications of the systems with which we are concerned. Nothing has to be called in from the outside. Hence it is not surprising that many, in almost all ages, have taken mathematics as the type of a self-explanatory system, and have sought to use its methods in the interpretation of the universe in general. The Pythagoreans and the Cartesians are the most conspicuous instances of such attempts. These attempts, however, have served to bring out the inevitable limitations of the methods. These limitations would seem to be mainly two. In the first place, while mathematical systems may be said to be self-explanatory within the orders that are constituted by their fundamental conceptions, these conceptions themselves call for interpretation by reference to their place in relation to other fundamental conceptions, and thus can hardly be treated as completely self-explanatory. In the second place, however self-explanatory the systems of pure mathematics may be, they do not contain the explanation of anything outside of themselves, and consequently cannot furnish any complete in- terpretation of the existent universe. In view of the previous discussions of mathematical conceptions, it is hardly neces- sary to dwell further at this point on these limitations. To meet the first defect, it would be necessary to consider all the fundamental conceptions that are implied in the structure of a knowable universe. As we have already noted, Hegel's Logic is the most thorough attempt in this direction. If such an attempt can be successfully carried out, it provides us with a system of conceptions that may be said to be self-explanatory ; and mathematical conceptions would have a definite place among these. But this would still be a system of pure universals, and would not of itself contain an explanation of the existent universe. In Hegel's phrase, it would only give us " God before the creation of the world." THE CONCEPTION OF A COSMOS 431 It would, consequently, be necessary to supplement it with some sort of philosophy of nature and spirit. Thus we are, at any rate, led away from pure mathematics. In human life, on the other hand, we find something that also presents itself as being, in a certain sense, a self- explanatory system. The most fundamental conception in human life, as we have seen, is that of value. Human action is explained by the effort after the realization of that which has supreme value, whether this is best to be described as the Good, the Beautiful, or the Perfect. When we see, or think that we see, that a human being has acted simply and solely with a view to the realization of what appeared to him to be best, we do not feel that we stand in need of any further explanation J ; and it would seem, in like manner, that, if the universe as a whole could be regarded as realizing what is best or most perfect, this might be taken as a com- plete explanation of its existence. This was the contention of the Platonic Socrates, and it was essentially repeated by Descartes, Spinoza, and Leibniz ; and it seems to be involved also in the more modern systems of Hegel, Mr. Bradley, and others. We cannot here discuss any of these systems in detail ; but some further considerations may help us to understand their fundamental implications. We may note, to begin with, that this method of inter- pretation really includes the one that was previously referred to. If the universe is to be thought of as a perfect whole, it would seem that this perfection must show itself in the fundamental conceptions by which its structure is determined. Hence the deduction of an orderly system of categories seems to be an essential element in any such interpretation. But, on this interpretation, the most fundamental conception is that of a perfect whole ; that is to say, it is, in a certain sense, a teleological explanation. In what sense it is so, we must try to consider a little 'farther. 2. The Teleological Interpretation. In the general con- sideration of explanatory methods contained in our treatment of causation, it was urged that the formal conception is the most fundamental i.e. the conception of certain organizing 1 I.e. any further reason or ground. 432 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY principles. But, in the further consideration of modes of unity, it appeared that the most self-explanatory of these modes is to be found in the life of spirit, guided by the idea of perfection. Here the formal principle is found in a final cause. There are different ways, however, in which this may be conceived. The most obvious way is that of the relation of means and end. We think of the Good or Perfect as that at which human beings aim ; and we regard them as subordinating everything to this end as means to its realization or as obstacles that have to be removed. To some extent this way of regarding human life is adequate ; but it is hardly a way that could be applied to the universe as a whole. It is only applicable to a system that is not completely self-explanatory. Human life, taken by itself, does not contain the explanation of the circumstances in which it grows up and the conditions with which it has to deal. Hence the end to which it strives may be treated as external to these circumstances or conditions ; and it has to be con- ceived as striving to adapt itself to them, and at the same time to adapt them to the achievement of its purpose. Here the conception of means and end has some applicability. But, if the universe is to be regarded as a perfect whole, there is nothing external to which it has to adapt itself, or which could be used as means for the furtherance of its ends. Hence, if we are to apply a teleological conception, it must be in a somewhat different sense. The " finality " that we conceive must be supposed to be " immanent " in the system. A work of art may 'serve, to some extent, as an illustration of what is meant. Such a work is a significant whole ; and its end may be said to lie in the perfection with which this significance is expressed. Every part of the whole may be described as means for the realization of this end ; but the means in this case cannot be treated as external to the end. Rather what serves as means is also an essential aspect of the end itself. It would seem that it is only in a somewhat similar sense that the conception of end could be applied to the universe as a whole. Its end is its own perfection ; and, if this end is achieved, it must be achieved within itself. Nothing can be supposed to be merely means, though no doubt some parts may be nearer to the whole, an(? THE CONCEPTION OF A COSMOS 433 in that sense nearer to the end than others. This I under- stand to be what is in the minds of all those who take per- fection as the explanatory principle ; and it is evidently, to some extent, a method 'of explanation that is primarily derived from the consideration of human life as guided by the choice of the best. It thus leads us to the conception of the universe as essentially a spiritual unity, the guiding principle in which may be described as God. On the whole, it seems to be true that the conception of a teleological system, in this sense, still is for us, as it was for the Platonic Socrates, in the Phcedo, the type that we naturally have in our minds when we look for an ultimate explanation of the Universe. The Cartesian idea of 'Perfection, especially as developed by Spinoza and Leibniz, has a similar foundation ; though in the work of the former at least it is somewhat concealed, as Hegel put it, by the substitution of Substance for Subject a characteristic which gives to the whole con- struction a certain air of Naturalism, rather than Humanism. When we speak of deus sive natura, the latter phrase is apt to remove a good deal of the significance of the former. In general, however, we may affirm that all attempts at ultimate explanation tend to become, in some degree, an- thropomorphic. We see this tendency at work, from the times of primitive animism, through the polytheistic religions, to almost all the leading types of philosophical construction. But, in constructive philosophy, the demand for cosmic unity in any explanation that can be ultimately satisfactory, leads us away from the thought of gods to that of some all- embracing divine personality. Even the gods of Greece, as Hegel said, were " not anthropomorphic enough " ; for the human is not the purely individual. If we are to have a God, He must be one who is at least as human as Shake- speare ; and that means one who is super-personal, in the sense at least of being all -comprehensive. He must be thought of as a God who is not aloof from the world, letting it, in Goethe's phrase, " run round his finger," but one who is like the Dreamer of whom we previously spoke involved in the life of the Universe. We are led, however, by such reflections, to a general consideration of the conception of God. 28 434 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY 3. The Conception of God. The conception of God as a Creator or Demiurge is beset by many difficulties. If such a being is thought of as distinct from the world that he creates, and from what he aims at achieving through its creation, he is inevitably reduced to the position of one par- ticular person among others ; and this seems to imply that he is finite, not merely in the sense of having a definite purpose and working with a definite material which, as we have already urged, would be no real objection but in the sense of having some real imperfection in his power of dealing with that material. This is quite definitely represented in Plato's treatment of the subject ; and it is recognized in the modern conception of a finite God, suggested by J. S. Mill ' and adopted by William James, 2 Dean Rashdall,3 and several others. Such a God, it would seem, could not be supposed to contain within himself any complete explana- tion either of his own existence or of the existence of the beings whom he creates. Instead of solving the central problem of the Universe, he would only present a fresh problem for solution. Nor is this the only difficulty. The evil that is apparent in the world, being regarded as something separated off from the being who creates it, would be some- thing for which he was accountable, except on the Manichean hypothesis or on the hypothesis of some ultimate form of Chance or Contingency. These hypotheses clearly involve the abandonment of any real attempt to conceive the Universe as a Cosmos ; and yet it is only with a view to this that the hypothesis of a God is introduced at all. Hence it is hard to see how a finite God could be absolved from the blame of the evil that appears in the world, even if it could be supposed that he works out some good by means of it. It is vain to suggest, as Leibniz does, that some evil is 1 See Three Essays on Religion, especially pp. 28-41 and 176-83. Mill's state- ments are, I think, much better worth reading than anything that has since been written on this subject. The conception is perhaps primarily derived from Hume. See his Dialogues concerning Natural Religion. a In A Pluralistic Universe. See his Theorv of Good and Evil, vol. ii, p. 237. I understand, however, that Dr. Rashdall has modified his view since this was written. Reference may U - made also to Dr. Schiller's Riddles of the Spliinv, chapter x, and Dr. Ward's Realm of Ends, pp. 443-4. The conception is discussed at various points in Professor Pringle-Pattison's lectures on The Idea of God. THE CONCEPTION OF A COSMOS 435 involved in the existence of any finite world ; for, in that case, it seems clear that such a world ought not to be created at all by a being supposed to be in himself good and stand- ing apart from the world. The problem of evil, as we have already noted, does not seem to be soluble except on the supposition that it is somehow involved in the being of God himself. Hence the great mystic Novalis urged that, if we are to think of a God at all, he must be conceived as a suffering God ; and, in somewhat the same spirit, Goethe maintained that the .Worship of Sorrow and Evil (in general terms, the Worship of all that is Beneath us) is a necessary element in the development of the highest reverence. Indeed, this is recognized even in popular expressions of the spirit of Christianity, in which God is represented as somehow bearing the sins and sorrows of the world. In every pang that rends the heart The Man of Sorrows had a part. It seems clear that there can be no intelligible theory of a perfect Cosmos which does not contain some equivalent of this. It may be contrasted with the view of the divine nature set forth by Lucretius Semota a nostris rebus, sejunctaque longe. But, as Mr. Bradley says, 1 " banish all that is meant by the indwelling Spirit of God, in its harmony and discord with the finite soul, and what death and desolation has taken the place of living religion." But, if we adopt a point of view of this kind, there remains an apparent dis- tinction between the Perfect God, the Suffering God, and the growing consciousness of the world, which it is not easy to bridge over. This difficulty may be partly met, as we have already tried to indicate, by the thought of an eternal Dreamer, in whom the life of the world is in reality included. But the life of the Dreamer itself calls for explana- tion ; and such explanation can hardly be found without the introduction of conceptions that transcend personality. The thought of a Trinity is one attempt to effect such a transcen- 1 Essays on Truth and Reality, p. 437. 436 ELEMENTS OF CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY dence the conception of three distinct persons composing the unity of the divine being. 1 Some recent philosophies tend to represent the divine being as containing many more than three distinct persons ; the most definite of these views being perhaps the one that has been set forth by Dr. McTaggart. He has chosen, like Shelley, to describe himself as an Atheist ; but it seems more correct to characterize him as a polytheist, or at least as one who maintains that the divine being has to be thought of rather as a plurality of persons than simply as one. 2 But of course this plurality of persons has to be regarded as somehow constituting a spiritual unity. The Greek conception of a Fate that overrules the gods may be regarded as another attempt to transcend personality. But perhaps the Indian conception of Brahman comes rather nearer to what is required. The philosophical conception of the Absolute has a certain kinship with this ; and, in general, when the ultimate unity is conceived in any way that definitely transcends personality, it is probably less misleading to describe it as the Absolute rather than as God, though the former term also is not wholly free from objection. Now, if even the best human beings may be said to transcend the limita- tions of a merely individual personality, it certainly seems reasonable to suppose that the unity of the Cosmos must involve at least a similar transcendence. Accordingly, we must now try to see a little more definitely how such a transcendence is to be conceived. 4. The Conception of the Absolute. Plato's Demiurge was supposed to look to the form of a perfect life (the uro wov) in his effort to construct a world ; 3 and it 1 Hegel laid much emphasis on the conception of a Trinity. See McTaggart's Hegelian Cosmology, chapter viii. Among recent writers, Soloviev seems t> have- laid a similar emphasis on it. See the account of his philosophy in Min 3 68 . 428-9 Extension, 204-5, 2O 9. 354~9 Faculties, 254-5 Faith, 133-5, 157, 471-2 Fall, 445 Falstaff, 319, 320, 323, 388 Fate, 436, 472-4 Feeling, 37, 50, 157, 175-8, 204, 251-2, 277-81, 458-60 Fichte, 157, 326-7, 333-4 Finite God, 424, 434-5, 463 Finitude, 373, 424-5 Fischer, 32 Form and matter, 135-7, 214, 221-3 FrankI, 104 Fraser, 199 Fraternity, 329-30 Frazer, 480 Freedom, 295-311, 425-7, 478 Frege, 197 Fuller, Margaret, 122, 429 Geddes, 473 General will, 333-6 Germans, 337, 340, 388, 475 God, 87, 145-9, 293, 324, 352, 360, 367, 382, 391, 402, 421-4, 433-5, 462, 478 Goethe, 65, 88, 99, 160, 192, 202, 263, 323, 325 342-3, 426-7, 435, 477, 479 Goldscheid, 279 Goldsmith, 306 Good, 20, 53, 112, 169-71, 176, 229, 283, 288-93, 302-3, 331-2, 347, 374, 387-92, 402, 423, 442, 406, 469, 477-8 Gorgias, 82, 124 Greek thought, 17, 113, 144, 237, 292, 312, 337, 347, 401, 425-6, 436 Green, 113, 127, 136, 154, 199, 243-4, 290, 334-5, 380, 396-7, 452, 459, 475 Grote, J., 130 Ground, 47, 76, 95-7, 128, 283-4, 297 Growth, no, 224, 238 Guyan, 322, 386-7, 424, 426 Haeckel, 348 Haldane, 409 Hamilton, 43, 71, 154, 158, 188 Hanna, Mr., 268, 361 Happiness, 278-9 Hastings, 474 Heaven, 463 Hedonism, 278, 294 Hegel, 13, 19, 2 3, 27, 59, 65, 66, 82, 87, 104, 161-3, 173-8, 180, 192, 197, 312, 328, 348, 374, 3*3-4, 396, 403, 7, 430-1, 433, 436-7, 441, 453, 458, 472, 479 Hell, 463 Heraclitus, 66, 82, 83, 87, 169, 257, 362, 379, 454, 461 Herbart, 257 Herbert, 150 Hobbes, 14, 150, 263, 327, 389 Hobhouse, 174, 375 Hoffding, 24, 32, 104, 178, 239, 291, 296, 375, 396 Holmes, 343, 476 Holt, 161, 236 Homer, n, 321, 327, 349-50, 361, 382 Hope, 380, 468-72, 479 Howison, 395 Humanism, 158, 160, 433 Hume, 31, 34-41, 65, 66, no, 130, 132, 138, 141, 150, 153-5, 162, 172, 185, 187, 188, 190-1, 199, 219-20, 263, 264, 309-10, 313, 332, 397, 417, 434, 456 Husserl, 50, 60, 105, 357 Huxley, 229, 261, 338 Hypothesis, 73, 100, 116, 138, 140, 465 Idealism, 65, 141, 148-52, 155, 162-4 Identity, 85-8, 91, 92, 314, 320-1 Illusion, 457 Imagination, 172 Immortality, 321-4, 340-2, 392-8, 448-9 478 Implication, 61, 78, 102-5, IJ 3> 2 94, 46 4 8 4 INDEX In, 232-3 Individuality, 312-18, 330, 339-40, 39; Inference, 77-9, 93-5 Infinity, 145, 148, 207-9, 269, 399-428 Innate ideas, 146 Inner sense, 49, 251, 359 Instinct, 102, 295-6 Intellect, 160, 293, 306-8 Intensity, 51, 203-5 Interest, 52, 53, 252 Intuition, 82, 83, 100-2, 293 James, Henry, 316 James, William, 96, 159-60, 175, 250, 319, 321, 360, 369, 370, 391, 395. 413, 429, 434, 469 Jevons, F. B., 306, 328, 381 Jews, 316, 395, 480 Joachim, 123 Jones, Miss Constance, 91 Jones, Sir Henry, 178, 385, 474 Jourdain, 423 Joy, 278-9 Judgment, 31, 39-46, 59, 64-79, 87-93, 95, 167, 292 KoAov, 283, 292 Kant, 21, 45, 66, 71, 73-4, 82, 83, 99, no, in, 132, 135-8, 151, 152, 154-7, 150, 167, 171-3, 179, 182, 188, 200, 203, 220-1, 223, 228, 229, 231-2, 238, 240, 254, 264-5, 285, 293, 299, 308, 311, 313, 317, 323, 339, 349-5. 353-62, 367-8, 379, 380, 388, 397, 411-17, 425, 429, 466-8 Keats, 325, 33i, 387,463 Kelvin, 177, 229, 362 Keynes, 73, 74, 77, 92, 410 Keyserling, 238, 315, 395, 398 Kidd, 338 Kind, 109, 137, 184, 186 Kipling, 390 Knowledge, 57, 128-64, 249, 289, 2<.)3, 304, 420-2, 466-8 Krishnaswamy, K. A., 459 Kiilpe, 280, 369 Lamarck, 338 Lamb, 389 Language, 68 Laplace, 305, 375-6 Laws of thought, 80-105, 423 Le Bon, 269 Leibniz, 65, 93, 149, 105, 215, 348, 374, 377, 384, 420, 433 Leone, H., 456 Lewis, C. I., 122 Liberty, 329 Liking, 49, 62, 81, 204, 252, 279-81 Locke, 150, 154, 188, 263, 359 Lodge, 322, 362 Logic, 19, 61, 102-5, 294, 406 London, J., 390 Lotze, 75, 178, 357, 37i, 396, 452 Love, 279, 293, 328-30, 446 Lucretius, 411, 413, 435 Macaulay, 15 . Macdonald, 455 McDougall, 260, 279, 319, 393 Mach, 104, 414 Macintosh, D. C., 105, 143, 160, 164 177, 236 aclvcr, 344 MacMillan, 238 McTaggart, 27, 174-5,204, 223, 275, 281, 291, 307-9, 322, 324, 330, 370, 383-4, 385, 391, 395-6, 422-3, 427, 430, 438, 452, 475 Malebranche, 31, 47, 149, 152 Malevolence, 388 Manicheism, 434 Manning, 261 Mansel, 158 t Marshall, 286 Marvin, 104 Materialism, 163, 318, 320 Material system, 240, 25^, 355-64 Mathematics, 18, 103-5, 177, 228, 404-1 , 430, 450 Maya, 162, 379, 457 Meaning, 59, 60, 66, 69, 71, 85, 88,95, I0 3 Means and end, 296, 317, 432 Mechanism, 237, 244-5, 273 Megarics, 91, 410, 423 Meinong, 21, 60, 75, 79, 104, 107, 154, 161, 178, 204, 294 Mendel, 238 Menger, 294 Mentalism, 152 Meredith, 391 Merit, 291 Men, 178 Metaphysics, 21 Mill, 28, 81, 90, 147, 107, rjo, 178, 186, 278, 342, 386, 434, 470-1 INDEX . 485 Milton, 304, 320, 385 Mitchell, 309 Modality, 75-7, 182 Monism, 348, 369 Moore, G. E., 151, 161, 238, 281, 290,294, 308-9 Morality, in Morgan, Lloyd, 102, 161, 172, 296 Muirhead, 84, 222-3, 370 Miinsterberg, 291 Music, 223, 426, 452 Myers, 394 Napoleon, 99, 258, 270, 295, 324, 326-7 Nature, 193, 374-5, 386, 460 Negation, 49, 90, 384, 399 New birth, 272, 301 Newton, 159, 192, 258, 349-50 Nietzsche, 80, 87, 264, 282, 287-8, 313, 327, 339, 390, 426 Nirvana, 342, 384 Non-being, 126 Norms, 292 Notions, 151-2 Noumena, 157 Novalis, 269, 316, 435, 478 Number, 108, 151, 195-200, 352, 404, 407-8, 453 Nunn, 236-7, 363-4 Object, 57 Objective, 59, 65, 81, 284, 302 Occam, 236 Omnipotence, 422-3 Omniscience, 305, 421-2 Optimism, 384 Order, 58, 62, 79, 93, 106-15, 137, 168, 242, 247, 351-2, 104-6, 439, 479 Organic unity, no, 238-9, 243-4 Oriental speculations, 384, 394, 401, 425, 449, 456-61, 472, 475, 480 Ormuzd, 367 Ostwald, 115, 230, 239, 260, 424 Palmer, 294 Parmenides, 65, 81, 82, 85, 169, 173, 370, 378, 395, 401, 441, 461 Paolsen, 24 Perfection, 149, 372-3, 385, 401, 427-8, 429, 433, 438-41, 442, 455-6, 464 Personality, 261-2, 312-25, 393, 433, 438 Pessimism, 384, 459 Phenomena, 156, 352-3, 368, 379, 380-1, 429, 457-61 Physics, 192, 223-4, 237, 238-9, 362-4 Plato, 12, 17, 20, 22, 23, 33, 64-7, 85-8, 106, 113-14, 128-9, 135, 140-5, 152, 169-71, 173, 180, 197, 201, 229, 233-4, 254, 264, 272, 278, 281, 300, 324, 327, 329, 339-40, 342-3, 347, 3^3, 365, 367, 371, 374, 379, 381, 393-6, 402-3, 405, 425, 434, 436, 438, 440, 442, 443, 450, 453, 456, 461, 466, 472, 474, 476 Pleasure and pain, sec Feeling and Hedonism Plotinus, 82, 347, 452 Pluralism, 142-3, 160, 369-70, 458 Plutarch, 316 Poetry, 16 Poincare, H., 199 Poincare, L., 177, 362, 414 Points, 417 Positivism, 158, 331, 429, 463 Possibility, 125-6 Postulates, 99-100, 135 Pragmatism, 29, 37, 55, 87, 135, 157, 159-60, 453 Prediction, 305, 361, 375 Primary qualities, 188, 291, 363-4 Prince, 300, 315, 323 Pringle-Pattison, 86, 152, 154, 193, 239, 306, 325, 328, 353, 370, 374, 381, 398, 434, 452 Progress, 336-8, 447, 462 Prometheus, 388 Proposition, 74, 95 Protagoras, 264 Protensive magnitude, 205-6 Psychology, 18, 256-7 Purgatory, 463 Pythagoras, n, 144, 327 Pythagoreans, 141, 169, 173, 177, 406, 430, 453 Quality, 109, 184-93, 269, 278, 305 Quantity, 194-209, 249 Quixote, 323 Radakrishnan, 8., 461 Rashdall, 204, 281, 294, 434 Rau, M. 8., 459 Read, C., 199 Realism, 66, 141-3, 154, 156, 161-4, 236-7, 265, 363-4, 369 Reality, 62, 65, 123-5, 163, 177, 444 4 86 INDEX Reason, 212-13, 33 Reformation, 312, 316 Reid, 142, 154, 220 Reincarnation, 323-3, 325, 394, 449, 458, 475 Relations, 59, 112, 151, 243 Religion, 16, 333, 455, 472-3 Renan, 388 Representative ideas, 145-7 Ribot, 315, 393 Richardson and Landis, 197 Ritchie, 389 Rivers, 276 Rome, 335 Roosevelt, 314 Rose, Holland, 336 Rousseau, 211, 264, 312, 314, 316, 325, 333-4 Royce, 60, 105, 115, 124, 162, 250, 315, 360, 398, 409, 414, 425-6, 453 Ruikin, 286, 290, 340 Russell, 22, 24, 38, 59, 75, 79, 81, 92, 103-4, 113, 115, 121-2, 161, 197, 200, 204, 230, 306, 319, 325, 336, 338, 379, 410, 413, 415, 417, 469, 470 Sardanapalus, 303 Satan, 304, 388 Saunders, L. P., 115 Scepticism, 28, 66, 82, 137-40, 144, 153-4 Schadenfreude, 388 Schelling, 157 Schiller, 334 Schiller, F. C. S., 99, 160, 381, 434 Schopenhauer, 74, 157, 412, 459, 475 Schure, 144 Secondary qualities, 188, 291 Secundo-primary, 188, 292 Self, 31, 57, 248, 270, 300-2,315, 321, 326, 457 Self-determination, 299-300 Seneca, 12 Shakespeare, 123, 205, 235, 280, 304, 324, 327-8, 380, 382, 433 Sharp, 323 Shaw, 338, 365 Shelley, 436, 454 Sidc-by-sideness, 205, 209, 240, 411 Sidgwick, 152, 278, 288, 303, 311 Sidis, 313 Sidis and Goodhart, 268, 315, 361 Sigwart, 90 Sin, 47, 291 Singularism, 369-70 Sleep, 458 Smart, 294 Smith, J. A., 252 Social philosophy, 343-4 Social unity, 241-2, 263-76 Sociology, 276, 344 Socrates, 12, 28, 29, 30, 47, 106, 129, 169, 302-3, 325, 342, 395, 431-3 Solipsism, 264-6 Soloviev, 436 Sophists, 312 Sophocles, 384 Sorley, 157 Soul, 393 Soul-making, 325, 387, 463 Space, 98, 109, 147, 209, 240, 356-9, 411-12 Specious present, 246, 250, 360 Spencer, in, 158, 285, 287-8, 338, 365, 469 Spinoza, 23, 31, 65, 114, 128-9, 149, 173, 228, 293, 328, 348, 370, 383, 395, 399, 401, 428, 431, 433 Spiritualism, 163 Spiritual unity, 242, 326-44 Spontaneity, 295 State, 245, 274, 334-5, 339 Stebbing, Hiss L. S., 123 Stevenson, 266, 323 Stewart, J. A., 17 Stirner, 264, 320, 389, 390 Stoics, ii, 12, 145,307,473 Stout, 38, 46, 92, 123, 172, 204, 268, 296, 309 Strange, E. H., 79 Strong, 260 Subconsciousness, 318, 394, 448 Subject, 30-1, 57, 248, 313-15, 433 Subjective, 58, 81, 150-2, 155, 161, 251, 302 Subject sciences, 13 Substance, 155, 170, 187-8, 433 Superman, 287-8, 324, 338, 401 Super-personal, 324 Surd of particularity, 376 Swift, 329 Synthetic, 72, 231 Taylor, 21, 239, 370, 396 Teleology, 367, 431-3 Tennyson, 134, 291, 313, 386, 420 Tertiary qualities, 188, 292 That and what, 64, 135-7 Theognis, 384 INDEX 487 Theology, 24, 474 Theophrastas, 316 Thermodynamics, 373 Thing-in-itself, 156 Thompson, S. P., 362 Thought, 61, 64-6, 420-1 Thought, laws of, 80-105, 423 Time, 108, 240, 354, 359-62, 378-82, 412-16, 440, 455, 456-63] Titchener, 281 Totality, 231 Transience, 383, 437, 478 Transvaluation, 282-3 Treitschke, 87, 211, 335 Trinity, 324, 330, 435-6, 454, 463 Truth, 62, 116-23, 289, 292, 331-2, 371 Unity, 231-45, 247 Universal, 60, 66, 140, 141, 233-4, 33. 351-2, 359, 38o, 403-4, 425, 437, 450 Universe, 347-71, 372-3, 429, 444 Upward path, 257, 364, 445, 454 Urban, 50, 294 Urwick, 344 Utopia, 24, 470 Value, 52-4, 61, in, 178, 204, 247, 251, 253, 277-94, 296, 305, 314, 3I7-I8, 377 Yaughan, C. E., 333 Vedantists, 162, 381, 396, 456-61, 480 Venn, 225 Yirgil, 362, 463 Vital force, 365 Volition, 51-2, 54, 222,230,261,295,297, 303-11, 366, 430-3, 456 Voltaire, 313 Wagner, 426 Walker, 164 Wallace, 176, 390 Wallas, 319 Ward, J., 155, 175, 224, 260, 263, 280-1, 296, 299,322, 353, 369-71,374,376,380, 396, 434 Ward, L. 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